Hello friends! Look at me, updating within a month. Maybe. Finals were hard, I'm not sure where I am. Or who I am. Huzzah.

Chapter 7: Smoke and Mirrors


"Whew, you weren't kidding when you said a couple spirits were here," Abigail said, pulling off her sunglasses and stepping across the threshold of the Hale house.

"Nope," Derek replied, unsure of what to say to that. Of course he knew there were spirits here, he had seen them. Multiple times.

"Hm. I'm sensing two groups here. There's one big group - a collective - that all died the same way," she said, taking a hand and putting it against the charred bannister.

"The fire," Derek supplied, unimpressed. Anyone who had been in Beacon Hills the past few years knew about all the people that died in the Hale fire.

"But there's more," she said airily, slowly making her way into the parlor room where Laura had first appeared.

"Who is she, Derek?" Laura whispered. Derek tried not to flinch as his sister's spirit appeared behind him. Alana shyly posted herself behind Laura's knees, the woman's hand on the little girl's head.

"A medium. I'm trying to help," Derek replied out of the corner of his mouth, soft enough so that Abigail wouldn't hear him.

"This isn't going to help. I'm not a ghost with unfinished business here. If everything you've told me is true, then my business is very much finished and I would like to move on with my afterlife," Laura hissed, clearly not impressed with Derek's efforts.

"You never know," he replied back. Apparently, the darker side of his sister had decided to show up today.

"You can tell your sister she can reveal herself to me," Abigail called from the sitting room, her hands running over the burnt rocking chair in the corner. "Her presence is quite blatant."

Derek turned to his sister, raising his eyebrows and Laura shook her head, the same angry look on her face as she appeared in the kitchen. Alana, however, stayed put, staring at the blonde woman. Abigail came forward, looking like she was going to say something to Derek before stopping and changing her gaze to a child height.

"Hello there, little one. Alana, right?" she asked softly, bending down so she was sitting on her heels. Alana nodded, moving to where she was in front of the woman, though Derek didn't see her actually walk. He could get used to seeing ghosts, that was fine, but the glitchy way they moved continued to throw him off. "Well Alana, my name is Abigail."

"Hi Abigail," Alana said quietly, covering her face with her hands in shyness. "Are you lost too?"

"Lost?" Abigail asked, looking to Derek. Derek stood completely still - he had no idea where this was going. "Are you lost, Alana?"

"Kind of," she replied, putting her hands down and twirling around. "I was all wet, and then I tried to find my way out of the tunnel, and then I was in the woods. But now I'm here and Auntie Laura is taking care of me," she explained, giving a toothy grin with a few gaps.

"Oh really? Sounds like quite the adventure," the medium said. "What tunnel were you in?" she asked.

"I dunno," Alana answered, twirling around a bit. "Have you met Auntie Laura?"

"Once, a very long time ago. I haven't seen her since she was a little baby," she responded, making Derek's blood run cold.

"Who are you?" Laura said, appearing behind Derek again, making the werewolf startle slightly.

"Abigail Prism. I was a friend of your mother's, a long long time ago," she said, not nearly as surprised as Derek, raising from her crouched position to stand again. Laura turned her eyes to Derek.

"How did you find her?" she demanded. Derek hesitated for a moment, confused by the renewed heat in his sister's attitude.

"Uncle Peter," he finally admitted. Fire burned behind Laura's eyes, and lights long gone dead began flickering around him.

"I told you not to trust him. You can't trust him," she said.

"Laura Elisabeth, however your uncle has wronged you, I assure you it has nothing to do with me," Abigail said in a stern tone of voice. Laura's eyes flashed again, and in a moment she had Alana's hand in hers. With one last look at Derek, the two of them disappeared.

"How did you know Laura's middle name?" Derek asked darkly.

Abigail sighed. "I was there, the day she was born. I was very young then, just beginning to learn about the world around me. Your mother taught me things about the wolves. I wanted to be an emissary, but unfortunately my talents lie more towards the paranormal end of the spectrum rather than the supernatural. Your uncle was the first to see that, taking me to the abandoned asylum in order to realize my gifts," she explained.

"So you've known me this whole time," he said shortly.

Half her mouth quirked in a smile. "I've known of you. I kept in contact with your mother for a short while, but lost contact with her a few years before her death. Unfortunately, the first time I spoke with your uncle was also the last, so you could imagine my surprise when you contacted me with his name," Abigail said.

"Laura doesn't trust you," was all Derek said in response.

"That piece of Laura doesn't trust me. It's the same piece that also probably doesn't trust those that she did not know in life," Abigail replied. "Whatever is holding them here, I can find it."

Derek stilled for a moment. "What if I told you I maybe knew what was holding her here?"

"Then I would say loosen your tongue, Derek Hale, because the longer those spirits are trapped, the harder it's going to be to release them," she said sternly. Derek nodded, turning towards the stairs and beginning his ascent, Abigail following him.

"How much do you know of the occult?" he asked.

"The bare minimum required of me. Spirits are more my game," she answered, perching perilously on the steps in her high heels as they gingerly made their way up the old stairs. He led her to the master bedroom, the blood signs still boldly staring at them from the floorboards.

"What do you make of this, then?" he questioned.

Abigail clicked her tongue, her heels making a matching sound as she slowly made her way around the room, examining at the symbols. "This isn't the occult," she said, shaking her head after minute of scrutiny. "This is something entirely different. Something that I barely recognize."

"But you do recognize it," he stated.

"In a way. I know I've seen it before, but I don't know where or when or what it means," she answered, pulling out her phone and snapping pictures of it. She then walked with a purpose out of the room and back down the stairs, Derek now following after her as they exited the house. "I'll do research on this and find the answers you need," she said, standing by the door to her car.

"What can I do in the mean time?" Derek asked.

Abigail bit her lip. "Unfortunately, it's a waiting game for you. But it seems you have another tenant," she said, jutting her chin back towards the front door. There, an old woman stood, looking rather confused. Derek let out a breath.

"So it seems," he muttered.

"I'll contact you as soon as I know anything," Abigail said. She paused, looking to the woods surrounding the house as if she had heard something. Derek stood, confused. If there was anything to hear, he definitely would have heard it. He looked to see some lights far in the distance. Was it possible that that was what Abigail was looking at? There was definitely something off about the lights, but would it be something within her realm of practice? She shook her head, turning back to him. "There's a strange sort of power in this town, Derek Hale. One which I have not felt for a long time. Be careful what you look for," she said, nodding and getting into her car before driving away without another word. Derek watched her until the tail lights disappeared, turning back to the house where his new friend was waiting for him.

Across town, Stiles was sitting in his room reading the book he had gotten from Jamie a couple days before, looking for any sorts of clues about the symbol on the front. He was dutifully ignoring the twenty page packet sitting on his desk that Dr. Nott had emailed out, expecting his students to have the take home exam finished by the following Monday when the school reopened. After finding the school trashed (probably by the fairies that were lurking in the trees the night before) and closed, Stiles and Scott had gone to visit the animal clinic to see if Deaton had any advice on Lydia's current predicament, but the veterinarian was nowhere to be found. A quick call later they found that he was out on an errand, and would be returning later that afternoon. He asked that they came back after closing time in order to discuss whatever it was that they needed. They agreed, and for the moment went their separate ways.

And so he found himself at home for once, hanging out in his bedroom and waiting for Scott to call him, just like the good old days. Sure he had homework he could be doing, but it was a Friday afternoon and everyone had the day off from school, so why not just relax for a moment?

His phone buzzed next to him, alerting him to a new text message from Jamie. He had texted her earlier, asking how she was feeling. After all, sometimes a brush with the supernatural could leave one feeling a little bit less than their best. She had replied that she was actually feeling really great that day, but had still gone to the doctor to make sure everything was in order. They then began a slow but steady conversation, keeping it going through the afternoon. They had decided, to Stiles' delight, that they could split up the massive packet for history and work on it together the next afternoon, thus only having to do half of the actual work. After all, one of Stiles' favorite quotes was 'work smart, not hard'.

He turned back to the book, which turns out had a wonderfully cheesy title of The Darker Side of Beacon Hills, Volume 1. He was only a few pages in, but he understood what Jamie had been saying a couple weeks ago when she said that even if it was supposed to be fiction, it was presented very much as nonfiction. The first chapter was the establishment of the town and the arrival of witches, and he could have sworn that he was reading a much more interesting version of a history textbook. Thus far though, there was nothing about the symbol on front. Stiles had a feeling that would come later in the book.

The sun had already set and it was well into the night (and the wolves arrived in Beacon Hills in his book) when Scott called him. Stiles quickly gathered his things, heading out the door to his Jeep and driving over to the vet clinic. Scott was already there, waiting for him on his motorbike. The door to the clinic said 'Closed' but wasn't locked when they went to open it.

"Back here, guys!" Deaton called from the exam room. Scott and Stiles followed the sound of his voice, turning the corner to find him organizing some herbs and powders that probably had nothing to do with veterinary medicine.

"You left the door unlocked, how did you know it was us?" Scott asked.

"Probably his magic emissary powers. He can sense things," Stiles replied in a low voice.

"Or I just saw you through the security cameras," Deaton replied, pointing to where a few screens were situated.

"It's just a cover. Don't believe him," Stiles muttered to Scott.

Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his friend in the shoulder. "Dr. Deaton, we were hoping to talk to you about Lydia," he said.

"And what's going on with Lydia?" Deaton asked.

"Well, she's seeing people die in her dreams," he replied.

"I wouldn't say that's a cause for alarm, especially for a banshee," Deaton said, giving them a look.

"But then they die in real life," Stiles finished.

Deaton stopped what he was doing, turning to give them his full attention. "Now, that's different," he said.

"Have you heard of something like this before?" Scott asked. "'Cause it seems like it was really stressing Lydia out, so if there's a way to control it…"

Deaton paused, looking like he was thinking for a moment. He turned, opening one of the lower metal cabinets in the room. The cabinet wasn't full of veterinary supplies like Stiles thought they would be, but instead was stuffed with leather-bound books of various sizes. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for the one he wanted. He eventually found it, a thick, heavy, dark thing that let loose a cloud of dust when he tossed it on the metal table in front of them. The pages were yellow and the ink fading, and they crackled ominously as he carefully turned them, trying to find a specific passage.

"Here we go," Deaton said once he found the page he was looking for. "'The Wailing Woman's powers, once manifested, have a tendency to change over time as her spirit attempts to reconcile the powers. These changes can be brought on by change in environment, physical change, deep emotional trauma, or by a strong internal force.'"

"But none of that has happened, that we know of at least," Scott said.

"That's not exactly true. She did technically have to kill me, then watch you and her best friend die, and then wait for an agonizingly long time for us to come back to life," Stiles pointed out. "If that's not deep emotional trauma, I don't know what is."

"But that was two months ago. Why would it just be happening now?" Scott asked. Stiles pursed his lips in thought.

"That one I can't argue," he replied.

"That night gave her emotional trauma, yes, but perhaps not enough," Deaton said from where he was still reading. "It seems that these changes can definitely come about if one large event occurs. But other events are cumulative. Going through that night may have pushed her to the brink of change, but something recent may have been just enough to push her over the edge and cause this new development."

Stiles looked to Scott, but their faces said that neither one of them could think of something that would have led to this push for Lydia. Stiles pulled out his phone, going to dial Allison's number before stopping with a sudden thought, turning back to Deaton.

"Wait, but you said a 'strong internal force' could bring about this change? Does that mean, like, her will power or something? Cause Lydia's pretty hard headed and can do pretty much anything she puts her mind to," he said. He was hoping that this would be a way to help her - maybe they couldn't get rid of her banshee powers, but they could help her change them.

"Her will power is part of it, yes," Deaton said, acknowledging the chance. "But it's also much more than that. A strong internal force means your conscious self has to agree with your unconscious self, and those two have to agree with your body. So all three forces that are constantly at work internally have to align and work together to make the change," he explained.

"Well that's fine, I'm sure every bit of her wants this change in power," Stiles said, raising his eyebrows and looking to Scott. Scott looked like he wanted to agree, but something was nagging him.

"It sounds easy, yes," Deaton said. "But in reality, it's very difficult. People spend years meditating and working to align body, mind, and spirit. This isn't something that Lydia can do just by wanting it really badly."

"I dunno, have you met Lydia?" Stiles said pointedly.

Deaton gave a dry laugh, but shook his head. "This isn't something that's going away overnight. She needs to know that," he said, carefully closing the book. Scott and Stiles deflated. "I'll do some more research, but what she really needs is someone who can teach her about her powers and how to use them."

"Okay cool, so do you know how to teach her about her powers?" Scott asked with a hopeful look on his face.

Deaton gave a sad smile. "I know a lot of things, but unfortunately how to train a banshee is not one of them," he said, taking the book and easing it back into its spot in the cabinet. "What I do have is a lot of sources. I'll ask around and see if I can't find someone who can help."

"Thanks, Dr. Deaton," Scott said.

The veterinarian nodded in response. "In the mean time, tell Lydia to be careful. Whatever happened that pushed her into this new aspect of her power is probably bad news," he said cryptically.

"Uh, yea. Will do," Stiles said, tapping his hand on the table.

"And how are you two?" Deaton asked.

The boys paused - it had been a while since they'd thought about themselves. "We're making it," Scott answered, his tone brighter than what he felt.

"That warning goes for you as well. That Darkness around your heart may very well respond to whatever's affecting Lydia. So be careful," Deaton said.

"Thanks, Deaton," Stiles said, biting his lip. He looked to Scott, a question in his eyes - should they tell him about the spirits? And the weird symbols in the Hale house? They looked to Deaton and for the first time, Stiles wondered what sort of toll all this took on the man. He had always been their source of help and information, and never asked for anything in return. Stiles suddenly felt guilty for continuously asking for things from him, noticing how tired Deaton looked. Scott pursed his lips before shaking his head, apparently having the same thoughts. Whatever was going on, they could figure it out.

"No problem, boys. I'll keep in touch," he said with a smile. They said their goodbyes and then turned to leave.

"So we still need to find out what happened with Lydia," Stiles said as the door closed behind them.

"Yep," Scott said. "And apparently, we need to find her a teacher."

"Well no, Deaton said he could do that. Champion," Stiles said, pulling out his phone.

"Who're you calling?" Scott asked, a slightly mischievous glint in his eye.

"Lydia," Stiles said, giving him an odd look. "We need to find out what's different, right?"

"Right," Scott said, nodding his head.

"Why do you ask?" Stiles continued, perking an eyebrow and holding his phone up to his ear.

"Just curious," Scott replied, shrugging and sitting astride his motorbike. Stiles continued to give him a suspicious look as the phone rang, giving up as it went to voicemail.

"She didn't answer. I'll call Allison," Stiles said, pressing a few buttons and holding his phone up to his ear.

"There's no need to bother her at this time of night-," Scott started to say, but Stiles promptly ignored him as Allison picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she answered, sounding a little sleepy.

"Hey, Allison, it's Stiles," he said, not paying attention to Scott's ramblings about bothering her.

"I know, Stiles, I have caller ID," Allison replied. He heard the sound of a door closing on her end. He also could practically hear her smirk in her voice.

"Well yeah, but you never know. Someone could have stolen my phone and called you. What if you had assumed it was me and divulged all your deepest darkest secrets to a stranger?" he retorted.

"Even knowing it's you, I still probably wouldn't divulge all my deepest darkest secrets," she replied.

"Ouch," Stiles said dramatically. "That was cold."

"What's up, Stiles?" Allison asked, laughing quietly.

"We went and saw Deaton and got some information for Lydia. I was wondering if you happened to know her whereabouts, seeing as she didn't pick up her phone," Stiles replied.

"She's actually here with me right now, but she just fell asleep a little while ago," Allison said.

"Is that an excuse or the truth?" Stiles asked.

"The truth!" Allison said, appalled.

"Hey, just making sure. How is she asleep already? It's not that late," Stiles said, confused.

"It's past midnight," she pointed out.

"What?" he said, shocked. He turned to Scott. "What time is it?"

Scott pulled out his phone, clicking the lock screen. "12:15," he answered.

"Damn. Well, sleep tight Allison, we'll talk to you and Lydia tomorrow," he said.

"Bye, Stiles," she said, hanging up the phone.

"Shit dude, why didn't you stop me from calling them so late?" he asked Scott. Scott's jaw dropped.

"Are you - I told you - but you-!" he floundered for a response.

"Honestly. And you call yourself a true alpha," he said, shaking his head.

"You're the worst, you know that?" Scott said, slipping his helmet on.

"Ah, but you love me," Stiles replied with a grin. "Hey, did Derek ever tell you about…whoever it was he saw today?"

"Oh, yeah," Scott said, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. "It was a medium, some old family friend of theirs. Turns out it was a dead end for now, but she's going to look into those symbols. Maybe figure out what's holding these spirits here and what's keeping them at the Hale house."

"Okay cool. I started reading that book, but it hasn't said anything yet about the symbol on the cover. I'll keep scanning and see what I can find out," Stiles replied, unlocking the Jeep and opening the driver's side door.

"Sounds good. See you later, man," Scott said, kicking the bike to life.

"Later," Stiles replied, climbing into the Jeep and starting her up. He pulled out of the parking lot and was halfway home before his phone started ringing again. He expected it to be Scott, or Allison, or even Derek, but instead Jamie's name was across his screen.

"Hello?" he answered, his eyebrows furrowed. Why would she call this late? Did she have another run in with the fairies?

"Hey Stiles, it's Jamie," she said, and he would've chuckled at the similar phone etiquette she pulled on him as he did Allison if he wasn't so concerned about the apologetic tone to her voice.

"Hey Jamie, what's going on?" he asked conversationally. There was a lot of noise in the background, making it hard to hear her. "Where you at?"

"Oh, right. Hold on a sec," she said. Stiles heard the sound of a door closing, then it was quieter. "Sorry about that, got a little distracted."

"It's all good," he said.

"Listen, I'm so sorry to bother you, and call you at this time of night, and I know this is super random, and like, feel free to say no if you want to, it really won't offend me, 'cause I know you're busy and it's late and you're probably at home already and in your pajamas and like super comfy and all-," she rambled on, some of her words coming out easier than others.

"Are you drunk dialing me right now?" Stiles asked, unable to keep the smile off his face and laughter in his voice.

"Drunk is a very strong word," she replied.

"So you're tipsy dialing me right now," he said.

"I'm responsibly tipsily dialing you right now," she answered.

"I don't think 'tipsily' is a word," he pointed out.

"It is now!" she said emphatically. "But whether words are real or not is not the point, good sir."

"And what is the point, fair lady?" he asked.

She paused before letting out a breath and continuing on. "Can I ask a bit of a favor from you?" she said quietly. It seems whatever bravado the alcohol had given her at the beginning of the conversation had faded slightly.

"Yeah, what's up?" he asked.

"I came to this party with a friend, but she left with some guy on the baseball team and I don't know anyone here and while I am definitely not drunk, I definitely don't want to take the chance driving her car and was wondering if maybe you could please please please come pick me up? I wouldn't bother you but my curfew is one o'clock and-," she started rambling again.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Stiles interrupted her. As a talkative drunk himself, he didn't feel bad about cutting her off, knowing that sometimes the words kept coming whether you wanted them to or not. "Text me the address and I'll be there."

"You are a lifesaver. A godsend. I owe you like a hundred favors," she said.

"I will hold you to that when you're sober," he responded with a laugh.

"Duly noted. Thank you so much, Stiles," she said, gratefulness coloring her words.

"No problem. See you in a minute," he said. She replied the same and hung up. He waited till his phone dinged with a text with the address before turning the car around and dialing his dad's number.

"You're going to miss curfew, aren't you," the Sheriff answered.

"Yes, but because I'm being a responsible and helpful friend," Stiles explained.

His dad paused. "Elaborate." he said shortly.

"A lady friend of mine happened to partake in an alcoholic beverage at a gathering tonight and doesn't believe that it would be wise for her to drive home, and her ride has abandoned her. She has called upon me to safely deliver her to her house," Stiles said, being honest with his dad.

"Was the fanciness of that really necessary?" was all the Sheriff said.

"Well you said 'elaborate,' so I took some creative liberties with my explanation," he answered.

His dad sighed. "Okay, I guess I can't fault you for helping a friend be responsible," he said. He may be the Sheriff, and he certainly didn't condone underage drinking, but he also wasn't stupid. He had been a high school student once, and had made a point to teach Stiles that if you were going to make the decision to drink, don't be dumb about it. "But no lolligagging. Get her home, and then you come here. Got it?"

"Got it. See you later, daddy-o," Stiles said.

"Whatever," his dad replied, trying to hide his amusement and hanging up.

Stiles put his phone down, checking the address one more time before turning onto the last street. The house Jamie was at was actually not too far from Allison's, so he knew the area relatively well. Plus he had memorized most neighborhoods in Beacon Hills in order to track down the police calls he heard over the radio when he wasn't supposed to be listening. He pulled up to a big house with lots of cars parked in front of it, putting the Jeep in park. He was just about to call Jamie when he saw the blonde walking down the front lawn. She waved enthusiastically as he reached across to unlock the passenger door, and he gave a smile in return.

"Thank you so so so much," she said after opening the door. "You are super awesome, you know that?"

"Yes, but it's always nice to hear," Stiles replied as she climbed in.

"Seriously, you are the best," she said, squeezing his hand.

"I know," he replied, trying to play it cool as she continued to hold his hand with both of hers. "How was the party?"

"Eh, it was okay," she said, seemingly unaware of her affectionate contact. "Parties kind of make me nervous, but my friend didn't want to go alone so I went with her and then of course she ended up leaving me alone and that wasn't cool. I didn't even intend to drink anything but they had Redd's Strawberry Ale and that stuff is just super fresh and I only had one, but I always forget that I'm a super lightweight and pretty much just smelling alcohol gets to me and…" she paused, noticing Stiles was trying to hold in some laughter. "What?"

"Huh? Nothing," he said, turning the wheel and looking at the road.

"You're laughing at me. Oh God, I was rambling wasn't I?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"No, no, you were just telling me a story. Very fast. And without breathing," he responded, making a purposefully suspicious face.

"Sorry. I get a little talkative sometimes," she said quietly.

"Trust me, I understand that one," he said, noticing her embarrassment. "This one time, Scott and I decided to try some of the stuff out of my dad's liquor cabinet, and apparently after one shot I spent an hour detailing my perfect professional baseball team."

Jamie laughed. "How young were you?" she asked.

"Oh, that was last week," he said, smiling at her and making her laugh more. Drunk Jamie was doing wonders for his self confidence right then.

"So who was on the team?" she questioned.

"You know, that's the worst part. I spent all that time telling it to him, and he didn't even remember it or write it down or anything for me!" Stiles said, appalled.

"Bastard," Jamie said, shaking her head and trying to keep a serious look on her face.

"Bastard indeed," Stiles replied, shifting his hand in hers. Her eyes shot down and it seemed like she just realized she was holding it.

"Oh. I also get really over affectionate apparently," she said, though she made no move to let go.

"I noticed," Stiles said, quirking his mouth up in a lopsided smile.

"I would apologize, but I really like holding hands with people. So unless this weirds you out, I've got enough liquid courage in me to not care and do whatever I want."

"Doesn't bother me a bit," Stiles said with a shrug, pulling into the parking lot of a late night drive through burger place.

"Good," she said with a nod. "What are we doing here?"

"Well you're hungry all the time when you're sober, I figured it would be escalated in your current state," he said with a cheeky grin.

"I love you," she said, gawking at him. "Is that weird to say? I don't care. I love you. You're awesome."

"Can I get that in writing?" he asked as they pulled up to the speaker.

"In ink, with a signature, and notarized," she replied, squinting her eyes to see the menu. She told him what she wanted, and he passed that along to the depressed sounding man in the box, adding on his own order.

"How much was mine? I have dollars," Jamie said, digging through her bag and grabbing her wallet.

"Don't worry about it," Stiles waved her off.

"Stiles. You already picked me up in the middle of the night. You can't buy me food too," she said, holding out a ten dollar bill.

"Why not? Your mom already fed me the other night. Now we can be even," he said.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still holding the money out to him.

"Positive," he said, pushing her hand back towards her wallet.

She looked at him suspiciously, but put the bill back in anyways."Are you a saint or something?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied, finally taking his hand from hers so he could give some cash to the drive-thru guy and grab their food from him.

"You should be. Saint Stiles…has a nice ring to it. You'd be the patron saint of safe driving and hamburgers."

"I mean, that's pretty much all I want out of life. To be the patron saint of hamburgers," he said with a laugh, pulling back onto the road.

"And safe driving!" Jamie said pointedly. "But yeah, mainly hamburgers."

"Don't you have to be a martyr to be a saint though?" Stiles asked. She paused, looking deep in thought. Stiles reckoned he could hear the gears turning in her brain.

"I don't think so?" she said, her answer sounding more like another question. "I dunno. Sounds like a question for a priest. Or Google."

"Google does have all the answers to life's questions," Stiles agreed.

"Speaking of, are we still on to do that massive packet for Nott tomorrow? Or…" she checked her watch. "…later today, as it were?"

"Yes ma'am, we are," he replied. "One o'clock, right?"

"Right," she responded with an emphatic nod.

"Cool. Wanna come over to my place?" he asked, pulling up to the curb outside her house.

"That would be perfect, 'cause I think the demon twins have little boy friends coming over," she said with a grimace.

"Gross," he said, grinning.

"Yeah," she said, making a disgusted face for a moment before shaking her head free of the image. "Anyway, thank you so much again for helping me out. And for the food. And for just being awesome."

"No problem. Don't forget those hundred favors," he said.

"I most definitely will," she replied with a smile. She paused, then before she could second guess her actions, leaned over the console and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight Stiles, see you tomorrow!" she said, getting out.

"Later," he replied, raising a hand in a wave and trying not to blush as she closed the door and jogged up the front lawn to the door. He waited until he was sure she was safe in the house, waving again as she turned and waved goodbye to him. He paused for a second before driving off, his fingertips touching the place where she had kissed him. He shook his head, turning the car around and heading towards his house.

"It was just the alcohol, Stilinski," he muttered to himself, even though he was hoping it was a lie. He drove back to his own house, eating his food as he went. He turned the key in the lock extra slowly, closing the door extra softly in an effort to be extra quiet. The light from the TV in his dad's room was flashing, but when Stiles rounded the corner, he found his dad sound asleep, some old Western movie playing. He grabbed a Post-It note from the stack on his nightstand, writing 'HOME' on it in big letters and putting it on the lamp shade where his dad would see it if he woke up in the middle of the night. He carefully pulled his dad's glasses off his face, setting them on the nightstand before turning the TV off and sneaking out of the room. He slowly trudged up the stairs to his own room, stripping down to his boxers before collapsing in bed.

That night, he didn't have nightmares, but instead dreamed of an all-star baseball team and hamburgers.


Whaaaaaaaat!

Thank you all for your favorites and alerts, as well as the wonderful reviewers! As you know by now (if you actually read these comments), this story is dedicated to ahiddenbanshee, the best beta in the world. Without her, I would not survive!

I would also like to extend a special thanks to fanficjackieoh on tumblr, who made a sweeeeeeeeeet trailer for this story! You can find her at .com, where she does awesome things. Also, if you're bored, you can check me out with the username whindsor. But only if you're gonna be nice.

Shadow-wolf78: Ha HA! My record is improving! Hope you enjoy the new chapter! :D

Rachel: I'm so glad you love it! I hope you loved this new chapter too!

Undeniable Weirdness: Scott is like my little beebee! Love that kid. I'd be lying if I said Supernatural wasn't inspiring a lot of this story. Not the story lines or the characters really, but definitely the creatures they encounter! I hope you found this chapter up to par, it had a little more Stamie in there for ya! ;) And I looooooooove Blood in the Water! I'm like 3 chapters behind or something but thank goodness school's out so I can 1) have time to write and 2) catch up on my reading!

charisma26: I'm glad you're liking where this is going! I hope you liked all the stuff that happened in this installment! :)

JackieOh: I mean, I've fangirled over you on tumblr for the past however many weeks. You - I love you. Too soon? No. I really hope that this next chapter was good enough for you to continue loving this story! You're awesome.

xXbriannaXx: Yay I'm glad you like it! Don't worry, slowly but surely you'll get more info about Jamie and her past and family. I'm so happy you think it's realistic, cause I've been freaking out trying to keep it true to life! I hope you liked this new chapter!

As always, feel free (please please please) to leave a review and let me know what you think! Thanks for stopping by!

-XM