The bus ride seemed to quiet down as the night grew denser. The cross country meet had been rescheduled due to weather issues in that particular county. It wasn't that Riley minded at all, but she much would have preferred sleeping in her own bed tonight. The chatter around her continued, low voices discussing frivolous topics. Scott had fallen asleep hours ago, and his surrounding friends had silenced themselves to ensure he'd get a few hours of rest. Stiles drummed his fingers against the back of Riley's seat, the vibration easing away the tense muscles that had become locked away in her own small frame.

A muted growl echoed inside her stomach, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast, but she didn't feel much like eating with the reminder of Jared's puke fest from earlier. She sat up once the bus turned onto an unpaved road. The shift from pavement to gravel shook the bus, awaking the few teenagers who had managed to find sleep. "All right," Coach yawned, grabbing his own belongings. "Pick a sleeping buddy, and no, I don't mean that kind of sleeping buddy." Coach clarified. "You sexual deviants. Off the bus! Let's go! Let's go! Move it, Greenberg!"

Riley ignored the coaches banter as she grabbed her duffel bag. Her legs were numb from sitting for six hours, groggily following behind the other students as she made her way off the bus steps. She squinted against the neon sign flashing Glen Capri. She stopped, waiting for the others as she took in the rusted and peeling walls of the hotel. The stucco texture made her wince, feeling a tight knot form in her core.

"I've seen worse." She heard a voice murmur. She turned to see Scott, a small smirk on his lips as he seemed to be feeling much better.

"Where have you seen worse?" Stiles scoffed.

"Again," Coach's voice buzzed over the crowd. "The meet has been pushed back until tomorrow. This was the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to allowing a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. Pair up! Choose wisely!"

Riley paused, her memory finding history repeating in the sway of students before her. Her legs moved on their own accord as people behind her continued walking. The coach held his hand out, each pair of students grabbing at something within his palm. No, no, no, no, no, no, Riley screamed internally. She reached Finstock, his hand dropping a silver key into her palm. Please don't be one-ninety-eight, she plead.

She opened it slowly, carefully as she peaked at the numbers on the key card. She felt the blood drain from her face, her skin ice over and her knees buckle. One-ninety-eight. "You look a little sick there, Haven." Coach taunted. "Were at an odd number so you'll be pairing up with Argent and Martin." He turned then, blowing his whistle to the crowd. "Sleep tight! Don't let the bed-bugs bite," he frowned at the poor quality of the hotel. "Because they just might!"

Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Scott and Stiles walk past her, heading for the room without much of a second thought. Allison grasped the key from Riley's numb fingers. "You okay?"

"I don't like this place." Riley confessed, eying the bad vibes she could sense within the dirty, paint chipped walls. "I really don't."

"I agree." Lydia took a stance beside Riley, her own feelings of uncertainty weighing her down. "It gives me the creeps."

"It's just for a night." Allison noted, nudging her head for the other girls to follow.

"A lot can happen in one night." Lydia murmured, walking in long strides with Riley as they followed Allison up the stairs.

Riley kept her dream to herself, hoping that the key cards number was the only coincidence. She ignored the hairs on the back of her neck. Just like she ignored the constant tugging of the knot that had coiled in the cavity of her chest. She let Allison remain in control of the key, not liking the way it made her feel. She stood a few feet back as she unlocked their door, just in case. It was a standard, double-occupacy room, with two beds and a bathroom.

Riley followed Lydia inside, placing her duffel on the floor. Lydia took the bed to the left, and Allison claimed the one on the right. She stood there, awkward and unsure as she scratched the back of her neck. "I should go see if the front office has an extra cot or someth-" She began.

"You can bunk with me." Lydia offered, a friendly smile on her mauve lips. "I don't mind." She continued as Allison headed for the restroom.

"I don't know, Lydia." Riley gave a sheepish smirk. "I'm kind of a cuddler."

"Hmph." Lydia scoffed. "Please, I'd be more offended if you weren't a cuddler."

She patted Riley's shoulder, an offering of a friendship as she paced the room. Her slender finger running along the bed side table, frowning in disgust at the clump of dirt that had accumulated on her single digit. "These towels smell disgusting." Allison groaned, coming back from the bathroom. She'd removed her top layer of clothing, a sign that she'd been about to shower. "They smell like cigarette smoke."

"Hm." Lydia rose a brow, holding up a card from the desk. "It says it's a non-smoking room." She grabbed the towel from Allison's arms, heading for the bathroom as she collected the rest. "I'll see if we can get fresh ones."

Riley headed out as well, heading for Scott and Stiles' room a few doors down. She didn't bother knocking, hoping neither one were indecent. Her prayers answered as she walked inside, shutting the door behind her before hopping onto the bed opposite of Scott. "Sup?" Riley sighed, yawning into her fist.

"Nothing much," Stiles noted. "Just trying to figure out the pattern between the human sacrifices."

"The usual." Scott followed up.

"Any luck?" Riley asked, her finger twining around a knotted section of hair.

"Yes!" Stiles barked. "Well, no. Not really. I have four suspects." He ignored the slight brow raise of both Riley and Scott. "It was originally ten, okay? Well, nine. . . I had Derek on there twice."

"Derek?" Riley rolled her eyes. "You really think Derek's slitting people's throats?"

"Whose number one?" Scott interrupted. "Harris?"

"Just because he's missing, doesn't mean he's dead!" Stiles defended.

"So, if he's not dead. . ." Riley shook her head in disbelief. "He's supposedly running around slitting throats too?"

"You know, you're kind of on the defensive tonight. Sheesh. Well, what if it's somebody else from the school? Remember Matt?"

"Kind of hard not to." Riley muttered.

"We had no idea he was the one killing people." Scott noted.

"Excuse me?" Stiles scoffed, continuously pacing the room before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "I called that from day one actually! I was serious. Deadly serious."

"Who are the other three?" Riley pressed, picking at her chipped nail polish as she silently continued to ignore the way the bad feelings rubbed the inside of her chest raw.

"Derek's sister, Cora." Stiles said confidently as he ignored another eye roll from Riley. "We know nothing about her, and she's Derek's sister. . ." He trailed off, figuring that was enough of an incentive. "Third one is your boss."

"Deaton?" Scott scoffed.

"Yeah, your boss. I don't like the whole Obi-Won thing he's got going on." Stiles shrugged. "And my last one is Lydia." Stiles leaned back onto the bed, resting his head on Riley's knee. "She was completely possessed by Derek's uncle and she had no idea."

Scott nodded his head, leaning back onto his bed as he calculated which of those four could possibly be the one killing people. It was a long silence as they thought it out. "What's your opinion on Mrs. Blake?" Riley wondered aloud, knowing she hadn't spoken to the boys about her bad feelings quite yet.

"My honest opinion?" Stiles asked, looking up to Riley from her lap. She nodded in return. "She's hot."

"No." Riley shook her head, flicking the soft pad of his cheek. "Like, do you guys get a bad feeling about her?"

"Oh, I get a feeling about her." Stiles winked, silencing when Riley glared at him un-amused. "But other than pure attraction, no, I don't get any bad feelings about her."

"Why do you ask?" Scott asked, his eyes soft and his voice concerned.

She ran a frazzled hand through her hair, raising a timid shoulder. She didn't want to inform them of her feelings, just to be on the safe side. She already had Derek snooping for her, she didn't find it necessary to add another person to their watch out list. "Whose to say Harris is the only psychotic teacher at Beacon Hills?"

Scott nodded along with Stiles. "Point taken."

Another moment of prolonged silence coursed its way through the room. Each one individually coming up with their own list of people they thought had hidden agendas. Neither Derek, Cora, or Lydia were on Riley's.

Stiles continued lying in her lap, his face twisted in a disconcerting manner when he suddenly frowned. Hearing the slight gurgle of Riley's stomach, he stood up. "I'm going to get something to eat, you in?" He asked, grabbing his wallet from his duffel. "Want anything?" Stiles turned to Scott, who shook his head appreciatively.

Riley followed behind him silently, wrapping her arms around her torso as they headed down the flight of stairs. They passed by a room that Riley knew was Isaac's and Boyd's. "Actually," Riley paused. "I should probably see if they're okay." She pointed to the door behind her. "The fight and everything." She explained.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "I'll get you a Reese's." He promised, continuing down towards the vending machine.

She watched Stiles turn the corner, disappearing in search of food. She headed for the door, clenching her fist into a tight ball as she softly tapped her knuckles against the door frame. "It's me." Riley called. "Just checking up on you." She knocked again, and this time the door opened slightly, revealing a small crack between the frame and the wood stained door. "Isaac?" She asked, pushing the door open slightly. "Boyd?"

It creaked, a dull sound against the slight background noise that sounded like static. Riley peaked through, her eyes scanning the dimly lit room. She spotted Isaac, his slender frame perched on the edge of his bed as he surfed through the channels on the T.V. They all came in fuzzy, each one noised with static. "Isaac?" Riley murmured, entering the room fully as she approached him. "Where's Boyd?" The bathroom light was turned off, the door open and the other bed was vacant. She stood beside him, her eyes watching him as he continued to flip through static. "Isaac?" Riley sighed, waving a hand in front of his face. His eyes strained forward, his features expressionless as his thumb repeatedly hit next channel on the remote. "Isaac." Riley tried again, her palm collecting his rigid fingers in her own. She gently pulled the remote from his cold hands, her throat gulping down the knot lodged in her mouth.

He flinched suddenly, looking up at her with a dazed expression as she turned the T.V. off. "When did you get here?" He asked, his eyes scanning the darkened room. His eyes were wild, unsure, and fearful as he shivered slightly.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked, her voice laced with concern as she put the back of her hand to his forehead. He didn't feel hot to her, just unmanageably cold. "You should sleep." Riley suggested, pushing his shoulder down as she pulled the covers back for him.

"I should-I should sleep." Isaac repeated, his lips parting as his teeth chattered. "I should sleep." He nodded.

Riley frowned at him, pulling the blanket up to his chin before patting his cheek. Hoping he'd feel better in the morning. She ran her hands along her arms as she headed back to her room, slightly on edge with worry about how Isaac was feeling. She debated even going back to her room, not sure if she wanted to spend the rest of the night listening to the girls bicker instead of sleep. She could go back to Scott and Stiles room, but a present feeling made her feel guilty.

She was already living with Stiles, and spending the majority of her time with him these days. She figured he'd want space. She figured he'd want his bro-time with Scott. She passed their door, heading for her own as she seeked comfort in the warm hotel room. "-but who commemorates with a framed number?" Riley heard Allison ask as she locked the door behind her. Riley eyed the two girls cautiously as Lydia ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"What's going on?" Riley asked, changing from her t-shirt into a sweater.

"I just went down to the office to get fresh towels and the older woman working is freaky as hell-that's what!" Lydia paced the room, her lower lip trembling with chaos. "There was a framed number on the wall, and when I asked about it, she told me it was the number of suicides that had been accomplished at this very hotel."

"Well, Lydia." Riley sat down, scratching her head nervously. "Everyone has different hobbies." She joked, trying to find humor after the long, stressful day they'd had. She could see the fear and pleading within Lydia's eyes as she sighed. "Really though? All suicides?"

"Yes." Lydia choked. "Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both barrels of a shotgun suicides." She shook her head, her lips clenched between her teeth as she took a steady breath. "I don't know about you guys, but me-" Lydia paused, her eyes widening and her joints locking. "Did you guys hear that?"

Riley looked to Allison, her brow furrowing as they both shook their heads. "Hear what?" Allison asked. Both her and Riley followed Lydia's line of eye-sight as she stared at the vent in the wall above Allisons bed.

"I don't know." Lydia whispered, stepping onto the mattress as she got closer to the vent. "You don't hear them talking?"

"Lydia, I don't hear anything." Riley stood up, standing at the foot of the bed as Lydia continued to narrow her eyes at the vent in the wall. She concentrated, hearing the faint whispers of a young man and woman in the room next door. I'll chamber the round, the young man assured. One. Two. Three. Lydia flinched suddenly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as tears gathered in her eyes. "Lydia, what is it?" Riley asked, her hands catching her shoulders to still her shaking frame.

"You didn't hear that?" Lydia cried out, still in disbelief. "The people in the room next door just shot one another."

Riley looked to Allison, her eyes wide and cautious as Lydia suddenly bolted out onto the front porch. "Lydia!" Riley and Allison called after her, following her as she headed towards the room next door.

"Hello?" Lydia cried, trying to see if one of the couples would respond. She reached for the door handle, not bothering to knock as she hurried into the darkened room. "Hello?"

Riley found the light switch, turning it on slowly, squinting her eyes just in case a body were found. She didn't want to see anymore blood today than she already had. The light filled the room, her eyes scanning every inch as they came up empty. The only things to be seen were a cans of paint a plastic sheets covering the floor.

"Lydia?" Riley whispered, trying to be sensitive.

"It had to be here." Lydia stomped her foot, her head shaking with confusion. "It had to be right here. It was a guy and a girl, I mean-they sounded younger, but they were here!"

"I believe you." Allison assured her as Riley nodded in agreement.

"I swear I heard it. I heard everything they said, I promise!" Lydia ran her hands over her face, desperate and scared as she turned around. Defeated. "I think we need to leave."

"Okay," Allison agreed. "Lets go back to our roo-"

"No." Lydia corrected. "We need to leave this hotel."

"I agree." Riley rose a hand.

"But they were suicides." Allison noted. "Not murders. It's not like this place is haunted, right?" They headed back outside, standing there with disbelief as Riley shut the door to the room.

"Maybe it is." Lydia whispered to herself. "I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room."

"Maybe that's why they're renovating it." Riley sided with Lydia. "Maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the walls."

"Maybe we should find out the whole story," Allison suggested, heading for the staircase. "Before we make assumptions."

Riley walked beside Lydia, keeping her hand on her as a sign of comfort as they followed Allison down to the first level of the hotel. She could feel the tremors rolling through her shoulders, a mix between her own gruesome knot forming in her chest, as well as Lydia's undeniable hatred for this place as well. She side glanced her friend, wondering how Lydia was hearing things that no one else could hear. Just like how Lydia was the one to find the dead bodies. . . She hugged her friend closer as they arrived at the front desk, frowning when a closed-sign clung to the window. "Well," Riley sighed. "There goes that plan."

Allison stared at the front desk, her eyes finding the framed number that Lydia had been speaking about. "Didn't you say it said one-ninety-eight?" She asked, turning to raise a brow to the increasingly confused red-head.

"It did." Lydia explained, taking a step forward with Riley in toe.

Riley found the framed number hanging on the back wall, a set of chills weaving through her bloodstream as she read a new number plastered to the wall. "Two-oh-one" Riley breathed.

"Does that mean there's been three more suicides?" Allison breathed, her face contorted into fear and uncertainty.

"Or three more are about to happen." Lydia sniffled, gulping down the lodge in her throat. Riley took an unsteady breath, looking to the two girls before her as they stared in shock at the ground.

"There's something I should tell you." Riley murmured. The girls looked to her, their suspicion ebbing as they watched her twirl the pearl ring on her finger over and over again. "Over the last few months I've been able to. . . sense things."

"You're a precognitive dreamer." Allison noted.

"Yeah-wait! What? You guys know?" Riley demanded, her eyes wide and confused. She knew for a fact that she hadn't told them.

"Scott told me." Allison shrugged.

"And Stiles told me. . ." Lydia pursed her lips.

She rolled her eyes, of course the boys couldn't keep a secret. "That wasn't what you were going to tell us, was it?" Allison gathered, seeing the way her weight shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I had a dream on the way here." Riley gulped. "Usually when I have dreams like this, they have a tendency to end badly."

"What was the dream?" Lydia pressed, wondering if she wasn't the only one that heard voices. She took a step closer to Riley when she could sense the hesitation. "What was it?" She asked again.

"The number one-ninety-eight was significant," Riley noted. "But I'm more bothered by what Coach said to me in the dream." She shook her head, trying to remember it word for word. "Something like. . . what doesn't kill us makes us kill ourselves."

"What do you think it means?" Allison pressed.

"I don't know," Riley shrugged. "The bad feeling I keep getting is like something is. . . lurking. Like someone is waiting for things to go wrong. Like maybe they're trying to get inside people's minds so that they sacrifice themselves. It's a long-shot, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me."

"I knew I wasn't the only one who felt weird." Lydia breathed, grasping Riley's hand. "We need to leave."

They headed back for their room, still deliberately shaken by the three numbers that had seemed to appear within the lonesome hour. Riley's hands shook, her breathing harsh from each breath she took as the knot grew bigger and tighter in the cavity of her chest. It was dark, a glooming feeling that orbited around her heart. A signal to her that there was something more wrong than she could ever imagine.

"I'll see if Stiles can meet us at our room." Lydia mumbled as she stood silently in the middle of the hotel room. She texted him with numb fingers, her lip caught between her teeth with anxiety.

"Now that I think about it," Allison sat herself on her bed. "Scott was acting strange earlier. I mean-he wasn't himself." She shook her head as she recalled the memory. "When I was taking a shower, he showed up in the bathroom. He tried-he tried pulling the curtain back and then he snapped out of it. He didn't know where he was. . ." She trailed off.

The goosebumps trailing across her collarbone suggested that maybe Riley's incident with Isaac was not just a coincidence. "Same with Isaac," Riley murmured. "He kept flipping through static on the T.V. and wouldn't answer when I called his name. When he did snap out of it he was so. . . so confused."

"Hey!" A voice boomed, breaking through the door frame a little out of breath. "I came as fast as I could, whats up?" Stiles closed the door behind him, wary of the worried expressions the girls before him wore.

"Has Scott been acting weird with you at all?" Allison asked. "Or said anything? He was acting strange earlier, and I've only seen him act like that on a full moon."

Stiles frowned nodding his head. "He's was a little off with me too." He admitted, shoving his hands deep into his pockets sheepishly. "But it was Boyd who was really off." Stiles peeked up through his lashes, trying to piece together the pattern. "I watched him put his fist through the vending machine."

"See!" Lydia wailed. "It is the hotel! Now either we get our of here now, or. . ." Lydia turned for the bedside table, digging through the drawers as she retrieved a Bible. "One of you better learn how to do an exorcism."

"That's the pattern." Riley whispered suddenly. The motors in her mind spun, creating a connection with ease. "Three werewolves." She noted. "Scott, Boyd and Isaac. Three sacrifices that pushed the number from one-ninety-eight to two-oh-one."

"Maybe we were meant to come here." Stiles wiped his jaw with a cold hand, his brow furrowing in fear for his friends.

"Exactly!" Lydia cried. "Now can we get the hell out of here now?"

Riley flinched when Stiles' hand suddenly reached out, he grabbed the Bible from Lydia's hands, his nimble fingers pulling out a newspaper clipping. "Hold on," Stiles whispered, reading through the article. "Twenty-eight year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri." Stiles read the title aloud.

"No," Riley's trembling hands grasped the book from Stiles. She held it by it's binding, shaking it as numerous clippings fell from it's pages. They scattered across the desk as Stiles tried to put them in order.

"They all mention room one-ninety-eight." Stiles breathed.

"That's our room number." Riley clarified, biting back the bile that eased it's way up her throat. She glanced around the room, noting how many suicides had taken place in the exact spot she'd been standing. "If every room has a Bible," she noted. "Each room could have the same articles."

"That's a beautiful thing." Stiles choked, taking a step back as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Some Hotels leave a mint under the pillow. . . this ones leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that have happened."

"Lydia," Riley turned to face her. "What if the room next door has one about the couple you heard?" She watched as Lydia's eyes widened, her body tensing as she headed for the porch again, making her way next door to prove that the voices she'd heard were not imaginary.

She gripped the door handle, shoving hard as she tried to open it. "What?" Lydia breathed. "No! This was not locked before!" The others froze behind her, wondering who had locked the door within the small time frame.

"Forget it," Stiles waved his hand. "We need to get Boyd, Scott, and Isaac out of here."

He turned, heading for his room as the Riley and the girls continued to stand before the door. She brought her hand to her lips, biting at her cuticle as the anxiety and fear continued to consume her. A sharp buzzing suddenly sounded behind the door they stood in front of. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who heard that." Lydia prayed.

"It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on." Allison noted.

Riley strained her hearing, her hand grasping the doorknob as the knot in her chest grew denser and darker. It throbbed painfully, beating harshly as it threatened to break the thin bones of her ribs. "Then why is it locked?" Riley growled, thrusting her weight into the door. The feeling she got sent shivers through her body, an ice cold chill burrowing in the pit of her stomach as it reminder her something was happening. The door wouldn't budge, sending her into a frenzy as she pulled back again, thrusting her weight into her side as she shoved the door open. She fell through the threshold, catching herself before hitting the floor as she looked before her. Her joints locked, her lip quivering as she watched the Alpha before her. Ethan stood with his torso exposed, his strong hands holding the saw as he lowered it to his skin.

"No!" Stiles gasped, his lean legs stumbling as he charged at Ethan. He firmly gripped his wrists tugging away the saw as he wrestled him for control. "Ethan! Stop it!" Stiles fought. He managed to rip it away from his grasp, tossing it to the side with a sigh of relief. The Alpha phased, his eyes turning red as he bared his teeth. His hands connected with Stiles chest, shoving him back as Stiles tripped over his own feet. He stumbled, falling face first above the handsaw that still ran face up.

Lydia was quick on her feet, unplugging the machine before Stiles could make contact. A shaky breath escaped his lips, rolling his eyes with relief as he sat up. Riley helped him stand, watching as Ethan's lips snarled, his claws forming as he continued to try an viciously tear away at his stomach. "Stop!" Riley commanded, heading for the Alpha alongside Allison and Stiles. Her delicate hands gripped at his claws, trying desperately to stop him from killing himself. "Ethan!" Riley growled, her footing tangling up with his as Stiles shoved the Alpha forward.

She fell back, narrowly missing the heated work lamp that ignited the room. Ethan wasn't as lucky as his hand shot out to catch himself, burning the soft flesh of his wrist. He yelped, his body weight falling onto of Riley as he phased back to himself. He stared down at the girl he hovered above, his brows furrowing with confusion as he sat up, looking to the others. "What just happened?" He hissed, rubbing away the burn in his hand.

"You tell us." Riley sat up, pushing Ethan off of her as she stood up weakly.

"I don't-I don't know." Ethan mumbled, shaking his head as he headed for the door.

"Wait!" Allison called after him, the group following him down the flight of stairs. "You don't remember going up there?"

He shook his head as he continued heading back to his room. "Ethan!" Riley caught up to him. "You tried to kill yourself, you don't remember?"

He didn't answer as he continued down the stairs. "Ethan!" Lydia tried.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" He growled, facing them with panic-stricken eyes. "I don't know how I ended up there, okay?"

"You could be a little more helpful, you know?" Stiles barked. "We did just save your life."

Ethan frowned, buttoning his shirt as he turned back on his heel, heading for his room. "Maybe you shouldn't have."

He disappeared around the stucco wall, heading back to the safety of his room and Danny. Riley stared in disbelief, wondering if Ethan really felt like that. He was an Alpha that had been a part of team who'd reaped havoc in her town, alongside her sister, and he'd felt that maybe they shouldn't have saved him. Riley bit her lip as she looked back to her friends. "What do we do now?" She voiced.

"I'll find Scott." Allison volunteered. "You guys grab Isaac and Boyd. The best thing we can do is get them out of here." She sauntered up the stairs in search of Scott, leaving Riley, Stiles, and Lydia at the foot of the stairs in the parking lot.

They watched her figure disappear, still debating silently within themselves if what was really happening was real or not. Stiles looked to Lydia, peaking at her through his lashes as he compared their situation to one that had been eerily similar just a few months prior. "What?" Lydia groaned, annoyed with his glances. Her eyes studied him, watching as they turned from sympathetic to accusing. "No." Lydia growled, her feet stomping towards the center of the parking lot. She didn't like how his gaze made her feel guilty.

"I didn't want to say anything." Stiles assured her, his strides matching Riley's as they followed after her. "But lydia, everything were going through. . . we've kind of gone through something like this before."

"What do you mean?" Riley asked, backing away to stand beside Lydia. Her hand hovering over her shoulder to ensure she felt comforted and not accused.

"Your birthday party," Stiles recalled, looking to Lydia. "The night you poisoned everyone with Wolfsbane."

"We all hallucinated." Riley remembered. It felt like so long ago. A time when her and Derek hadn't even acknowledged their feelings for one another. She looked to Lydia, her eyes apologetic as she sadly sided with Stiles.

Lydia bit her lip, the weight of guilt bowing her head as she fumed. She turned away from them, heading deeper into the parking lot. "Lydia!" Stiles called, chasing after her. "I'm sorry, okay? Were not trying to say you're the one trying to kill people. I just mean that maybe you're involved with making people want to kill themselves." Even Stiles flinched at his own comment, frowning at the way the words bittered his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that either."

"Lydia," Riley tried. "Were not against-"

"Sssh." Lydia suddenly turned to them, her slender finger held to her lips. "Do you hear that?"

"Not this again." Riley put her hands on her hips, raising a brow. "We don't hear anything."

Lydia froze, her eyes circulating the parking lot as she tried to find the source of noise. She took a step to her right, the noise growing louder. I don't know what you want, the voice cried.

"What do you hear?" Stiles asked, cautiously approaching the red-head.

Lydia gulped, taking another step until she hovered above a sewage drain. She frowned at the grate, shaking her head as she strained her ears. "I hear a bay crying." She confessed. She kneeled down above the grate, feeling the tears gather in her eyes. "I hear water running now." It's time to sleep, the voice cooed. "No," Lydia whispered, her hands shaking as they covered her trembling lips. The crying began to die down, the voices of the mother continuing to soothe. "She's drowning the baby!" Lydia wailed, standing up suddenly. She wiped the tears from her eyes, turning to her friends as she connected the dots. "Someone's drowning!"

"Someone-who?" Riley choked. Her hands trembling with panic as Lydia brushed past her. She kept pace with her, Stiles on their heels as she stopped in front of a door. "This is Isaac's room." She noted. Stiles pushed the girls to the side, tilting his heel as he kicked in the door. His eyes scanned the room, finding the bathroom light on. Riley saw it first, pushing her way past Stiles as she headed for the bathtub, the tears gathering in her eyes before she even knew who was submerged. "Boyd!" Riley cried, noticing the safe that layed across his chest. It held him firmly and securely underwater. Stiles and Lydia's hands grasped at the safe, trying desperately to push it off of his stilled body. Riley's hands dove below the water, searching for the drain. "It's blocked." She whimpered, her fingers skimming over Boyd's expressionless features. Small air bubbles escaped his parted lips, his brown eyes still peeled back at the lids.

"What do we do?" Lydia wailed, pulling Stiles to his feet. The safe had been too heavy from them to move on their own. "How long can a werewolf hold their breath underwater?"

Riley continued to run her hands comfortingly over Boyd's cheek, remembering when she had drowned herself. Derek had once told her a werewolf could portion their air supply if they need to, and she hoped that Boyd was still breathing. "The heater." Riley suddenly whispered. "Remember Ethan snapped out of it when he fell on the heating lamp? It's heat. Fire."

"Heat does it." Stiles agreed. "We need fire."

"He's underwater." Lydia reminded, her hand tangled in her red locks viciously. "Wait!" She remembered. "The bus! It should have emergency road flares! They have their own oxidizer and they work underwater!"

Stiles legs carried him quickly, heading for the buses with long strides.

"Boyd." Riley breathed, cradling his face beneath the surface of the tub. She felt the tears gather, collecting on the tip of her chin as she stared into his lifeless eyes. "C'mon, Boyd." She pleaded, running her nails along his neck to urge him to wake up.

"I got em'!" Stiles called, his hands carrying a red stick. "What do I do?" He begged. "How do I do this?"

"The caps a match." Lydia instructed.

His shaking hands pried off the cap, grinding the tip of the flare against it furiously. It didn't spark. "C'mon!" Stiles groaned, his hands continuing to ignite it.

"Stiles, hurry!" Lydia instructed, looking back to Boyd's body.

"I'm trying!" He croaked, his voice still trembling as Riley took notice of what was really happening. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His breaths short and quick. She knew he had a history with panic attacks.

"Stiles," Riley whispered, standing up as her hands cradled his. "Breathe." He shook his head, trying to spark the flare.

"I can't-It wont light!" He cried, wiping his cheek on his hoodie.

Riley took the flare and cap from his trembling hands, her eyes sincere as she tried it herself. It didn't spark as she tried it over and over. Please, Riley begged. Please, please, please, please. She skimmed the cap once more, flinching at the sudden blaze that ignited at the tip of the flare. She froze, shocked by the heat as Stiles ripped it from her hands, submerging it beneath the water.

It bubbled, Boyd's feet twitched as the water became hot. unbearably hot. His hands gripped the safe, flinging it from his chest as he sat up from the tub. His teeth bare as he took in a much needed breath. Riley choked on her own sob as he phased back to himself, standing up from the tub as his body dripped hot water onto the tile floor. She grasped a towel from the hanger, wrapping it around his shoulders as she soothed his quivering frame. "Wha-what happened?" His fingers rubbing at his temples.

She guided him from the bathroom, sitting him on the bed as she used the towel to wipe away the dripping water that continued to seep from his skin. "We have to get them out of here." Riley gritted her teeth.

They nodded in unison as Stiles pulled out his phone. "We just need to find Scott and -"

"Did you hear that?" Lydia asked, her eyes wide once more.

A light whimper echoed off the wood paneled walls. Riley nodded. "I heard it." She assured. She left Boyd's side, gathering beside Stiles and Lydia as their eyes scanned the room.

"It's coming from the bed." Boyd croaked, pulling the towel tighter to his shivering body.

Lydia approached the vacant bed beside Boyd's, dropping to her knees slowly as she lifted the blanket the covered the bed frame. She gasped, yanking the sheet down as she scooted awat from the bed quickly. "It's Isaac." She whispered. Stiles, still holding the flare in his hand kneeled to the bed, Riley by his side as they pulled back the cover. He was huddled in the darkest corner, his face pale and slick as he cradled himself. His breathing was slow, his eyes void.

"Hey, Isaac." Stiles smiled. "I've got something for you."

He stuck his flared fist under the bed, stretching until he felt it come in contact with Isaac's chest. He yanked it back once the bed shook, a cry escaping the boys lips. Stiles stood, heading for the tub as he disposed of the flare. Riley took a deep breath, pulling the sheet back as she peeked into the darkness below it. She could see his frame, still trembling as he glared at her with heated yellow eyes. His lips parted, showing his fangs as he defended himself. "It's okay, Isaac." Riley whispered, her voice tender and soft. She stretched a hand out into the darkness, palm up in an offering. "It's okay." She repeated. Isaac shut his eyes, opening them to reveal the precious blue color she'd come to love. His hand slowly grasped hers as she helped him from beneath the bed. "You're okay." She assured him, sitting him down on the floor. Her hands cradled his, running her free hand through his hair.

"I don't-I don't know what happened." He cried, and Riley nodded. Shushing him as Allison finally appeared, shutting the door behind her.

"I couldn't find Scott." She murmured. "It's happening to him, isn't it? It has to be."

Stiles violently pulled up Scott's number on his phone, desperately trying to reach his best friend. Where was he? What was happening to him? "He won't answer." Stiles groaned, pacing the room as he continued to call and text his best friend.

"Riley," Lydia suddenly looked to her. "How does your gift work again?"

She shrugged. "It only happens when I'm asleep." Stiles paused, his eyes blankly staring at Riley as he calculated their next option.

"Couldn't you just. . ." Lydia waved her hands, frazzled as she tried to word her thoughts right. "Dream about where he is? Help us find him?"

"You expect me to fall asleep under this much pressure?" Riley hissed, standing up to face the expectant eyes of her friends. "It doesn't work like that. I can't choose my dreams."

"No," Stiles noted. He grasped her shoulder tightly. "But remember at Deaton's office, when he was testing his theory on Lucid Dreaming?" Riley nodded. "I doubt it can be that hard."

"I can't just fall asleep-" Riley's sentence was cut short when a sudden arm wrapped around her throat from behind. She choked, grasping at the slender wrist that tightened with each breath she took. They stood there, stunned and fearful as Allison put Riley in a sleep hold, restricting her breath until she passed out. Allison layed Riley's still body on the floor beside Isaac.

"What?" She asked, taking in everyone's accusing glare. "My father taught me."

"You realize she'll hate you more after this?" Isaac noted, pushing the hair from Riley's eyes. He checked her pulse, just to be sure. His finger curved at the edge of her throat, nodding to himself when he found the light, rhythmic thump of her heart.

"She'll thank me if this works." Allison challenged.

"How does this work, by the way?" Boyd asked from his perch on the bed.

"I'm-I don't know for sure." Stiles kneeled to the floor, straightening out her body with numb hands. Lydia bent to her knees, lifting Riley's head carefully as she placed it in her lap. "Deaton just told her to imagine things, so-"

"Well, the clocks ticking." Allison urged, waving her hands for him to hurry.

"Okay, okay!" Stiles acknowledged. "I have to be the only one who speaks, got it?" His eyes met everyone's in the room, each one nodding as they pressed their lips together silently. He took a deep breath, placing his hand on Riley's as he began. "Can you hear me?" He asked, his voice low and flat. Yes, Riley whispered internally. She couldn't move her limbs, signaling to him that she was there. She was present. She sat in a white room. No doors. No windows. She huddled into herself, raising her head momentarily to glance into the bright light that was Stiles' voice.

"Okay, Riley." He pressed. "We need to find Scott. We need to find him fast, can you help me out with that?" Again, his eyes skimmed the length of her body, but couldn't see the signal she was giving him. Yes, Riley agreed internally. She rose to her feet, still trapped in that white room as she began to pace, her hands always keeping a steady holding on the stark white walls.

"I want you to imagine Scott." Stiles instructed. "Imagine his face. Imagine the feeling he gives you when you see him. I want you to get a lock on that feeling. I need you to concentrate on it." Riley nodded, continuing to pace as she closed her eyes, concentrating on the brightness. The happiness. The sunlight that seemed to travel with Scott McCall everywhere he went. She paused at the end of the room, turning to face the blue haze the seemed to hover above the floor behind her.

She greeted it with a firm smile, knowing this was the aura that had embodied her friend. She took a step forward, her eyes sincere as she reached a hand out to it. It stayed in it's place, the blue haze tinting a shade darker. "I need you to find him." Stiles repeated. Her brow furrowed, taking another step towards the haze, only for it to darken again. She continued to walk forward, the color changing with each step she took, until finally, she stood before it. She reached her skeptical hand out, touching the cloudy mist that was now a midnight blue. It was gritty and light, cupping her hands as she continued to feel the brightness of the aura fade.

The haze seemed to collect in her fingertips, seeping into her own skin until she could feel the embodiment thrive within her. She felt as if she could combust from the pureness and beauty that seemed to gather within her veins. It faded, leaving a wound that seemed too dark to be anything associated with Scott. It was a painful ebbing as it pulsed in darkened streaks throughout her core. She closed her eyes, only to open them when the bright room beneath her feet seemed to disappear. She found the black pavement threatening as her joints locked in place. Her eyes scanned the darkness, her face turning away at the strong smell that swirled in the air.

She felt a thick wetness drip from her skin, pulling her hand to her face as she investigated the brown liquid. It burned her nostrils, hindered her breathing as she coughed out. "Where is he?" Stiles' voice echoed. She felt a flame gather in her hands, the burning sensation setting her a blaze. It engulfed her, the embers traveling through the liquid as it reached her chest, closing her eyes as she saw the school bus in the distance. A greedy breath collected in her lungs as Riley sat up suddenly. Her surrounding friends flinched from her jolt, their eyes curious as she continued to breathe in enough air to calm herself.

"Did you see him?"

"What happened?"

"Where is he?"

The voices all jumbled together as she rubbed at her temples, slowing her breathing enough to speak. She coughed, the gasoline smell following her into her conscious state. "I was on fire." Riley blurted, silencing the questions echoing in the room. She coughed again as Stiles reached a hand out to her, helping her up as he tried to shield his emotions. "I saw the bus."

"Isn't there another flare on the bus?" Lydia pegged, looking between Stiles and Riley.

"Yeah." He nodded, letting go of Riley's frame. "There is."

Riley steadied herself, looking to Boyd and Isaac. "Stay here," she warned. "Keep an eye out for each other."

She didn't have to tell them twice, nodding at her as she followed Stiles, Lydia, and Allison back to the parking lot. Her mind was still hazed with a thick casing, making it hard to think properly. "Keep calling him," Stiles encouraged Lydia. "I'll get the second flare for when we finally find-"

"Scott." Riley whispered, her eyes scanning the parking lot as a single figure slumped heavily over a puddle. He rose to his feet, his steady hands igniting the second flare Stiles had needed. Scott's expression was saddened, his muscles lazy as he held the flare to his side. The familiar burn of the gasoline filled her lungs as she stumbled forward. Stiles was on her heel, his eyes gathering wetness as he watched his friend stand in the puddle of gas, a fire ignited in his own palm.

"Scott." Allison whispered, trying to snap him out of it.

"There's no hope." Scott's voice shook, tainted with complete and udder loss.

"What do you mean?" Allison begged. They had all gathered before their friend, their eyes bloodshot and hopeless as they watched on. "There's always hope."

"Not for me." Scott whispered hoarsely. "Not for Derek."

Riley's brows furrowed, taking a step toward Scott in confusion. Lydia placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from edging any closer. She didn't understand why Scott had called him out of all people. "Derek is not your fault." Allison spoke cautiously. "You know that."

Scott held the flare a little closer, his body soaked with the dripping gasoline as he shook his head. "Everytime I try an fight back, it just keeps getting worse." He peeked at his friends through wet lashes. "People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

"Scott," Riley tried. Her own eyes welled up, the tears dripping from her cheeks as she broke away from Lydia's grasp. "You're a hero. You're not a murderer. It isn't your fault."

"You don't understand." Scott whispered, feeling comfort in the way the gas suffocated him slowly. He let the guilt eat at him, allowing the flame in his hand to burn his fingertips. "I killed him."

"Scott, listen to me, okay?" Stiles stepped forward, standing beside Riley at the edge of the gasoline puddle. "This isn't you. This is someone in your head telling you to do this."

A humorless laugh escaped Scott's gutted throat. He shook his head, "What if it isn't? What if it's just me? What if doing this is the best thing I could possibly do for everyone else?"

"That's not true-" Stiles silenced Riley, grasping her hand with a firm squeeze.

"It all started that night," Scott croaked. "The night I got bitten." He looked up to Stiles with saddened eyes. "You remember how it use to be? You and me? We were-we were nothing." Scott hissed. "We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one." He bit his lip, tasting the gasoline as it seeped into a hot flame inside the roof of his mouth. "Maybe I should just be no one again."

"Scott," Stiles silenced him. "Just listen to me, okay?" Riley could feel his body tremble. She could see the wetness in his eyes as he watched his best friend degrade himself. "You're not no one. Okay? You're someone." Stiles choked on his own words, edging closer to the gas puddle. "Scott, you're my best friend. I need you. You're my brother. Stiles released Riley's hand, his body quaking with uncertainty and devotion as he looked into the eyes of the only brother he'd ever had. The only friend he'd had growing up. He squared his jaw as he stepped into the puddle with Scott. If he were to drop the flare, they'd both be set a blaze.

But for Stiles, it would have been worth it. He would die for the boy before him. He'd sacrifice everything in himself to save his friends, and he would face death with a smile if he knew for certain the ones he cared about wouldn't parish. "If you're-if were going to do this," Stiles walked towards his friend, letting the soles of his shoes soak in the gasoline as he peered into Scott's eyes. "Then you're just going to have to take me with you."

He watched as the tears fell from Scott's eyes, mirroring him with his own as he sacrificed himself as well. Stiles' hand reach up, grasping the flare in Scott's hand with slow and deliberate movements. Scott choked, releasing it as Stiles held the flare away from them both, tossing it to the side as he reassuringly comforted his brother. Riley sighed with relief, wiping away her tears on her sleeve as she watched the exchange. A gust of wind blew, cleansing the impurity in the air as her hair whipped at her cheeks. Lydia grasped Riley's hand suddenly, squeezing it with rigid fingers as she watched the flare roll towards the gas."No!" Lydia hissed, running through the gas as she propelled herself onto Scott and Stiles. She took them down, sheltering their bodies with her own. Riley caught on, pinning herself ontop of an unsuspecting Allison as they collided with the pavement.

The gas caught flame momentarily, the heat brushing against Riley's feet. Tempted to travel further, hungry for the taste of burnt flesh as the flames raged, burning higher and brighter until they dissolved into angry embers. Dying out before hitting the cold pavement below. Riley peaked through the hair covering her face, submerged in darkness as the flames disappeared as if nothing had happened at all. She could hear the faint steps of someone approaching, looking up into the eyes of Isaac as he helped her off the ground. She looked to her friends, standing up without a scratch on them.

Allison's appreciative eyes as she silently thanked her for saving her life. Her eyes scanned the hotel, the night silent and continuous as if no one had heard the explosion. She wiped the smudged blood from her chin, having skinned it against the pavement. "We shouldn't go back inside." Allison noted.

They made a pact, quickly grabbing their things from their rooms as they promised to meet back at the bus in ten minutes. Scott showered, grabbing his bag as he and Stiles were the last to join the returning teens.

"We'll sleep on the bus," Stiles announced. "Everyone keeps and eye on everyone, got it?"

Riley found herself nod, making eye contact with Scott as she wrapped her arms around him. Thankful she still had the option to feel the warmth and brightness of his aura engulf her as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She didn't have to say anything as she kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair like the annoying and lovable older sister Scott envisioned her to be. Isaac pried the bus doors open, heading inside as they made a single file line. Lydia was the last one, oddly quite as they shuffled onto the bus. "Are you okay?" Riley whispered to her, raking her fingertips along her shoulder blade in a comforting manner.

"I-I saw-I saw something." Lydia whispered back, her brows bridging as she gulped. "I saw something in the flames."

Riley nodded, too exhausted to believe her in that moment. She lead Lydia to the seat Allison rested in, making sure she felt safe and secure before heading a few rows back. She passed Scott and Stiles as they stretched themselves across the seats, eyes slipping closed with the days exhaustion. Isaac sat behind Stiles, huddled into himself in the corner of the seat, his eyes wide open as he glared out the darkened window. She sat beside him, easing him into a more comfortable position as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Everyone's okay." She whispered into his neck. He nodded, leaning his head onto hers as he allowed himself to rest as well.

Their friendship with one another was comforting throughout the cold and restless night.


The building was darkened, a light blue hue reflected off the walls. . . the only source of light. It was cold, unbearably chilly as chaos broke out all around. The voices. The scrapping. The growls. The hissing. It all echoed, overlapping each noise as it buzzed like a live wire through the soul. The bodies around her continued fighting, the faces of the Alpha's blurring in and out as the focus grew harder to handle. She could see her sister, her bare feet grinding into the neck of Derek's little sister. "Stop," Riley wanted to yell.

Her voice lodged in her throat, creating a bubble of fear that grew denser and darker with each passing minute. The fighting continued, everyone's face becoming a blur as blood began covering the cement floors. She peeked over her shoulder, still unable to move as she spotted a beloved face. His features were contorted into an animatistic snarl, his eyes red and threatening as he defended himself against the bigger Alpha. Riley blinked her eyes momentarily, the skin across her body breaking out into chills as she opened them again. She watched as Scott came into view, his rigid claw skimming against Ennis' calf, throwing him off balance as he stumbled towards the edge of a platform. She didn't feel sympathy for the Alpha. . . not until he grabbed ahold of Derek's shirt.

Bringing him down with him.

"No! she tried to cry out. Her lips parted as her eyes welled up. She watched as both of the men tipped over the platform, falling into the darkness the swallowed them whole.

"He's dead," she heard them whispering. "He's dead."

Riley awoke in a sweat, the sound of a whistle echoing in her ears. Her hands clamped over her head, trying to drown out the sound as Isaac sat up beside her. "I don't wanna know," Coach sighed after dropping the whistle to his chest. "I'm not interested in knowing what kind of sick and twisted sins you all accomplished, okay?" Coach eyed the teenagers who had slept on the bus. "So, shut it! And in case you missed the announcement. . . the meets been cancelled. Were heading home!"

Riley rubbed at her eyes as the other kids filed onto the bus. She squinted against the late morning sunlight. She looked to the boy beside her as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. The dream she'd had still playing in the back of her mind. "Hey, Coach!" She looked to see Lydia stand up from her seat. "Can I see this for a second?" She watched in confusion, leaning over the aisle as Lydia grabbed the whistle from around his neck. She covered the blow-hole, a muted ring echoing in the palm of her hand as she blew into it. Lydia pulled her hand away, her lips trembling as she revealed the purple dust inside her palm. "Wolfsbane." She whispered.

"Everytime the Coach blew the whistle," Stiles commented. "You, Boyd, and Isaac were all inhaling it."

"You were all poisoned by it." Riley took note, her voice groggy. "But who put it in there?"

She watched as Stiles gripped the whistle from Lydia's hands, tossing it out the window as the bus began to pull away. She drowned out the yelling as Finstock yelled at him, turning to look at Isaac as he continued on with his uncomfortable expression. "You okay?" She asked, and he simply nodded. She replayed the dream, connecting the dots as to what it really meant. "You dreamed it too, didn't you?" She accused. Her throat closed up, her chest constricting as she acknowledged his sheepish expression. "It wasn't a dream." She hissed. "It was a memory, wasn't it?" He nodded, looking to her when he could sense the tears gathering in her eyes. She was able to piece it together, the way everyone hid everything from her. The way Scott mentioned no hope for Derek. "He's not dead." Riley choked, her frame quivering as she clenched his shirt. "Tell me he isn't dead."

"He's not dead." A voice in front of her assured. She looked through clouded vision to Scott, his eyes honest and sincere as he nodded. "He's not dead. Ethan just confirmed that for me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She begged, still unsure if she was still dreaming or not.

He shrugged, unable to say for certain why he'd withheld the information from her. He knew how it'd effect her, and maybe he wanted to shield her away from the pain it would have undoubtedly caused her. She wiped away her eyes, turning to peek over her shoulder as she spotted Ethan sitting in the back of the bus with Danny. She stood, ignoring Isaac's protest as she took a seat beside him. Ethan seemed surprised and confused, turning his back on Danny as he faced her.

"He's alive?" Riley questioned, her eyes pleading for honesty. Ethan knew who she meant as he nodded, a sigh of relief from Riley's lips fanned his face.

"For how long, I can't tell you." Ethan stubbed. "He killed Ennis, which means either Derek has to join our pack, or Kali is going to go after him until he kills each and every one of his own." Riley squared her jaw, looking to Ethan glassy eyes.

"Did Kali-did Kali ever tell you guys about me?" She asked, her own curiousity ebbing.

Ethan's lips pressed into a firm line, his brows nudging together as he shook his head. "No." He murmured in a hushed whisper. "Why would she?"

"Because she's my sister." She whispered, heading back for her seat. The relief that overwhelmed her for Derek's safety pulsed rapidly though her bloodstream.

The anger for her sisters intentions set her chest a blaze.