Are you guys surprised I'm updating so soon? Me too. There I was, sitting in my three hour government lecture when I just decided my professor was full of shit and stopped taking notes. My mind drifted and this chapter just slapped me in the face. Honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. Part of it makes me super happy. And yet at the same time it kinda makes me wanna cry.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I promised to respond to the reviews and I will. I've already gotten a few of you but I still have some left; if you haven't heard from me, don't worry. I'm getting there!

Anyway, I guess now I'll just let this chapter speak for itself. Enjoy.

p.s. I didn't really have time to edit this. I would wait to post it so I could edit it later, but I'm really itching to see your reaction. So I'm just going to apologize now.

NOTE: I changed quite a bit about the episode "Party Guessed". I needed to manipulate Lydia's party to fit my own evil plan. So now harping, mmkay? It's different with purpose.

PART NUEVE:

"Are you sure you don't need a ride?" asked Stiles for the twelfth time.

I clutched the phone using my shoulder as I struggled to conquer the wrapping paper. "Yeah, I'm sure. Olivia's giving me a ride. But I'll…um, see you there?"

There came a brief, awkward pause before Stiles sighed, "Okay, yeah. See ya there. Just be careful. Wear your seatbelt." His words were meant humorously. Yet, the immensely depressed tone sort of sucked all the humor right out. I said goodbye and tossed my cell aside. Glaring at Lydia's present – a scarf I impulsively bought on sale at Charlotte Russe and never wore – I rubbed my temple. All this crap was giving me a headache.

Suddenly, our doorbell rang. My father shouted from his study, telling me to answer it. I trudged downstairs, unlocked the dead bolt, and was greeted with a glaring Livy. "Why was your door locked?"

"Um…cause like, people are getting murdered left and right around here. Why didn't you use your key?"

"It's in my nightstand at home. What? Don't look at me like that. Your mom never locks the door. I've never needed it." She shuffled her feet indifferently. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Let me run upstairs and grab her gift."

Livy's eyes widened. "You got her a gift?"

Rolling my eyes, I grinned. "You're awful. And I love it."

When we arrived at the Martins' estate, the driveway was virtually deserted. Only Stiles' Jeep and Mrs. McCall's car were visible. My best friend and I exchanged confused glances. "I thought Lydia said this was-"

Olivia joined me, "The biggest party of the year."

We peered around. I chewed my cheek, "So where is everyone?"

"Maybe they're pulling a prank on us," she mumbled. "Oh! Or Stiles is proposing!"

"You're an idiot."

She frowned. "Words hurt, Sam."

Lydia answered after one knock. There was a punch bowl in her hand, an anxious, wide eyed stare on her face. Her lips spread into a broad grin and she began gushing before either of us could so much as say 'Happy Birthday'. "Hello! Please, come in! Come in. Everyone's out back on the patio."

Everyone?

Stiles, Scott, and Allison uncomfortably loitered on the Martin's pool deck. When we approached Allison happily chirped a greeting causing the boys' heads to snap up. "Well," Lydia chimed as she set the punch bowl on a buffet-style table. "Why is everyone just standing around? Drink! Eat! Be merry and all that. The food isn't going to eat itself. Oh, was that the door? I'll be right back."

"She's been checking the door every three seconds," murmured Scott apathetically.

"About that, where is everyone?" snorted Olivia. Scott looked about hopefully, "Maybe it's just early?"

His best friend licked his lips. "Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job."

"We have to do something," I said pitifully. As far as parties went this was pretty much the shittiest one yet. Olivia yawned, "I'm sorry. Why is our responsibility?"

"We have completely ignored her for the past two weeks," Allison pointed out. Her not-so-secret boyfriend frowned, "She's completely ignored us for the past ten years."

"Guys," Allison whined. The boys looked at each other and resigned with sighs. Scott nodded, "I can call…the lacrosse team? They're always down to…party, I guess."

"I met some lovely ladies, err, pretend ladies at The Jungle the other night. I can give them a call," muttered Stiles. Livy's eyebrows rose, "Picking up trannies, now? Should we be worried?"

"Ha, ha."

The boys made their calls while Allison, Olivia, and I hit up the buffet. We sampled a few of the little pastries but overlooked the mini sandwiches on account of we couldn't honestly tell what was in them. Tuna fish? Mutated chicken, maybe. All pretty gross. "Dude, try the little chocolate thing," Allison insisted, Olivia declaring the exact opposite. As they entered a minor debate over the dessert, I drifted to the edge of the pool. Plopping down by the ladder, I slipped off my shoes and stuck my feet in the water.

"Hey."

Stiles was looming over me. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Scuffing his Vans on the concrete patio, he sheepishly asked, "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead."

"How've you been?" he asked. The question 'Where have you been?' lingered unspoken between us. I swayed my feet in the water and felt a very eerie sense of déjà vu. Like we were at the dock again on his mother's secret pond. I half shrugged, "Eh. Been better."

Stiles gazed at me with those ever gorgeous honey eyes. He frowned. "Can I hug you?"

My brow itched together. "What? Why would you ask?"

"I just…I don't know where we stand anymore, Sam," he admitted with a sigh. And then, he tentatively slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. My hands slithered up his arms to wrap around his neck. Our cheeks pressed together and I could feel our hearts beating between us. God, I missed him so much. His lips brushed my cheek, sweeping up to press several little kisses across my temple and in my hair. He rested his forehead on mine. We didn't speak and yet so much was said. Finally, he gingerly captured my lips in a breathtaking yet chaste kiss. "Sam-"

"There he is!" A falsely high pitched voice squealed with delight. We broke apart to see an extremely tall cross dresser traipsing across Lydia's patio, his/her heels clacking on the concrete. A parade of men and women followed him/her. "We were wondering when we'd see you again! Ooh, Marla, look, boo got himself a girl. Hmm, and she cute too!"

"Where do you find these people?" I whispered. Bashfully, he shrugged, "They kinda find me."

With the party in full swing I found it hard to get Stiles alone. I tried to keep up with him. There was still so much to be said but was Lydia's birthday party really the place to hash this out? So I sort of gave up and stalked Olivia the whole night. Unfortunately, she got wrapped up with some bench warmer on the lacrosse team and disappeared into a coat closet. Pointlessly roaming the Martins' home, I wound up in the den, skimming the bookshelves. "Someone doesn't look like they're having fun," the birthday girl herself appeared.

"Oh, no. The party's great. Really. Quite impressive. Stiles and I are, well…" I spoke. Then, thankfully, my brain kicked in and I realized I was talking to Lydia. Friggin' Lydia, of all people. I mean, I know I'm having problems but Lydia? I'd rather talk to that hobo who sleeps under the water tower. "Sorry! Man, you don't wanna hear this. It's your birthday!"

"That's right! It is my birthday," she beamed. The fashionista looped her arm through mine guiding me through the packed halls of her home. "And since it is my day I want everyone to have as much as I am! You don't look like you're having fun at all. You know what you need? A drink." She halted her steps as we came to the buffet table. Perched on the end was the large, glass punch bowl. Lydia picked up the ladle and poured the punch into a matching glass cup. I studied the light pink liquid bringing the cup to my nose. The scent was strange. Almost fruity but not quite. "Is it pink lemonade?"

Lydia's nose wrinkled as she smiled, "Something like that. Please, drink. I made it myself."

Lifting the glass to my mouth, I paused. I don't know why but something about the excited glimmer in her eyes made me think of the Grimm Tale 'Hansel and Gretel'. She nudged my elbow, "Drink." So I did. And it was fucking delicious. I giggled, embarrassed that I'd practically slammed the punch like a shot. "Lydia, that was really good! Like, damn good."

Her lips pursed cockily. "I know."

She left me then, disappearing with several glasses of punch. I had two more cups of the punch before refilling the glass one last time and going off in search of Olivia. She had to try this shit. Only, I never found her and I ended up drinking it myself. Having drank too much, I abruptly had to pee. Stumbling inside, I began to question whether Lydia spiked the punch when Stiles collided with me, nearly knocking me over. "What the hell, Stiles?!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, watch where you're going," I snapped, scrambling to my feet. My estranged boyfriend shook his head, "No, you don't get it. I'm sorry for the lies and confusion. You have to know, I didn't want to scare you. I won't hurt you, Sam. Not like them."

"Like who?"

The beautiful boy blinked. "The ones I murdered."

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Absolute terror consumed me. My pulse sped up, my heart thumping wildly. The room began to spin as blood rushed to my ears and my stomach plummeted to the floor. I couldn't hear the music or the raucous party goers. My vision blurred and I had to clamp my eyes shut as I fought the overwhelming urge to vomit. No! Just, no! Legs turning to Jell-O, I fell back into the wall, my head smashing painfully into the corner of a picture frame. "Shit!" I hissed, hand flying to the back of my skull. "Stiles, wh-"

But he wasn't there. Like a ghost, he had vanished. "Stiles? Stiles?!"

"He's out back, honey!" A passing man/woman wearing a blue boa shouted.

What the hell? I began to panic, my chest squeezing tightly. I placed my hand over my heart and dug the heel of my palm into my chest. The dueling pains helped to calm the pain and I was able to catch my breath. Climbing the stairs frantically, I locked myself in the bathroom. Hunting the cabinets, I found a wash cloth and dampened it. Wetting my face and chest, I glared at my reflection. What the fuck just happened? Was I hallucinating? He had seemed so real! Suddenly, dread filled my gut as I realized what happened.

My first instinct was to find Stiles. He was lounging beside the pool, propped up on a pillar. His eyes were hazy as they stared off into the distance. He looked high. 'The ones I murdered.'

"Stiles?" I croaked, my insides twisting and turning painfully.

He immediately sobered and scrambled to stand. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

"I-I think I've been drugged."

"What?" he gasped. Cupping my face, Stiles guided my eyes toward the light. "Are you feeling any dizziness? Difficulty walking?"

"I've been drinking. Isn't that like, standard?" I asked, gripping his arms for support. I could barely stand on my own. Stiles nodded, "Yeah, this isn't good. Are you sleepy at all? Having trouble keeping your eyes open?"

"Not really. I don't think…I don't. I mean, I'm kinda tired but…" I mumbled.

"Shit, baby. Come on, let's get you home." Leaning into his side, I reveled in the comfort Stiles provided as he dragged me to his Jeep. Stiles opened the passenger door and lifted me into the seat. Blinking, I ran my hand down his arm. "Does anyone know how strong you really are?"

He shook his head. "Not really. The whole dork factor kinda makes that get overlooked. Hey, baby, keep your eyes open, okay? Don't fall asleep. Sam, you can't fall asleep."

"Stiles!" Scott burst through the Martins' front door. "Hey, uh, can we talk for a second?"

"Not really. I gotta get Sam outta here. Something's wrong. She…she looks like she's been drugged."

"That's sort of the problem. I think there's something wrong with everyone. Like…like at the bar," Scott emphasized. His eyes growing wide, he gestured to Stiles. I snorted, my head resting against the Jeep's door frame, "Your friend is not very covert. Smooth, Scoot. Smooth."

"Did you just call him Scoot?"

I scoffed, "Did I?"

"Stiles!" Scott called once again. Growling, Stiles spun, "What, Scott? In case you haven't noticed my girlfriend is kind of out of her fucking mind right now? She needs me, Scott! And you know what? I'm sick and tired of helping everyone else and my family suffering for it! For once the people I care about are going to be a priority! So you go in there and play hero, Scott. Everyone knows you're Batman, anyway. I'm just Robin."

Scott's face crumbled. His shoulders sagged and he stared helplessly as Stiles carefully shut my door and stalked around the front of his Jeep. He slid in behind the steering wheel, started the engine, and, with one last glance back at his gaping best friend, drove off. As he navigated the dark back roads of Beacon Hills, he repeatedly glanced in the review mirror and flexed his grip on the steering wheel. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "Still awake over there?"

"I think I might be dreaming," I grumbled. "You don't ever fight with Scott. And though I only understood about a third of what was said, you're not the type of guy who picks a girl over his lifelong best friend. So I'm just trying to figure out if I'm dreaming or if this is the first sign of the Apocalypse."

Stiles gave a dry chuckle. He reached over and sought my hand. Our fingers laced and he stroked the back of my palm with his thumb. "You misunderstood, Sammy. I'm not choosing you over Scott. I'm choosing me. For months this…this mess has been killing me. It's like…one giant, never ending panic attack. Only no matter how many times I stick my head between my knees it doesn't stop. I keep telling myself that I'm doing the right thing, that we're saving people but it doesn't seem to be enough. No matter how hard we try, we can't save everyone. And I just can't do it anymore. I won't."

"Stiles…you're totally Batman."

Our eyes met and he smiled sadly. "Thanks, Sammy."

Instead of taking me home, Stiles drove to his house. "Given that thrilling speech your father gave when he found out we stayed in the hotel together, I don't really want to hear what he'd come up with if I brought you home drugged. He has a very colorful vocabulary, by the way. I meant to tell you that weeks ago."

The elder Stilinksy was out for the night and Stiles led me straight to his room. He dug around finding a semi-clean hoodie and sweat pants for me to change into. I frowned at the baggy clothing. "As your immune system fights the drug you'll get cold," he explained. "Think you can stay awake long enough for me to run downstairs and grab some food? You need to put something on your stomach."

I assured him I'd been fine. He kissed my forehead and left the room. Curling up against his headboard, I pulled his navy comforter around me and stared at the giant anime character on his wall. He was such a teenage boy. Stiles returned a few moments later with a bowl of cold spaghetti and two forks. He settled next to me and offered a fork. "Bon appetite, my lady."

We munched in silence. The more I ate, the harder it got to fight the oncoming exhaustion. Stabbing my fork into the spaghetti, I pushed the bowl into Stiles' lap and coiled myself around his arm. I snuggled into his shoulder. "Will he be very mad at you?" I asked, absentmindedly.

"I don't care if he is."

"That's such a lie," I pointed out. Then, I added, "This sucks."

"The spaghetti? We have some chicken in the freezer. I can make fajitas."

A laugh bubbled up my throat. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

He sighed and set the bowl aside, pulling me into his lap. Stiles stroked my hair sweetly. "I'm going to make this right. I'm done with it, Sam. I can't keep doing this to you, to my dad. It's not fair. You and my dad mean the world to me. I lost my mom, I losing my father, and I'm about to lose you too. Unless…I've lost you already…?"

Lifting my head, I met his eyes. He looked so scared. So vulnerable. He'd probably hate himself if he knew how much of an open book he was being at the moment. I took hold of his chin, brushing my lips over his own. "You haven't lost me, Stiles. You'll never lose me. I love you."

His eyes fluttered closed. A muscle flexed in his jaw. "God, Sam, I love you, too."

Thoughts?

QUESTION II FOR TEEN WOLF FANS:

What do you guys think of Peter Hale's return? Do you think he's really changed? (I think he's a douche, but…you know, that's me.) Should Derek trust him? Will he be part of Derek's pack now?

Also, do you guys feel I'm still being true to the characters in this story? Particularly Stiles. With manipulating the story arch, I want to make sure I'm being honest to who Stiles is. So just let me know. Thank you all so much!