Thank you AshleyMarieD for another wonderful review! I'm glad I'm keeping you on your toes. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.

Okay, so maybe I was being a little dramatic. After all, I had only been without my magic for, maybe, a couple of hours. But when I had realized I had it back, I think I cried a little. It was like I'd lost a part of myself for a while, a part of who I was, who I was supposed to be, and I finally felt whole again. I think Stiles even felt it, if his quick exhale of a laugh was anything to go by. He shook his head, falling back from his crouch until he was sat beside me on the floor of the ambulance, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, that's one victory we've managed tonight," he sighed.

"I can find your dad now," I reminded him, trying to catch his eye as he stared at the floor. "I can do a locator spell, I can find him."

"Have you forgotten the last time you tried a locator spell?" he asked me, finally looking up. "She wouldn't have given you your magic back if you could find him right after; she knows something is up with your magic."

"I can still try. I ain't gonna sit and wait around for something to happen while I could be trying to find him." Stiles ignored me, frowning at the unconscious Cora who lay in front of us. I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Stiles, I can try."

"Is she breathing?"

"What?"

"Cora," Stiles clarified, and I turned to where he was staring, his eyes wide now, to see what he was talking about. Cora's still body. Completely still. Not even the usual rising of her chest. "She's not breathing."

"Oh," I breathed, my mouth gaping open. "God. What do we do?"

"I don't..." Stiles stood up, dropping back down onto the bench beside the gurney. He took a deep breath, and shook his head. "Okay, you can do this," he said quietly, leaning over Cora and tilting her head back, mumbling to himself. He pried her mouth open and paused for a second, taking another deep breath before ducking his head and blowing into her mouth. I saw her chest rise once, falling again immediately after Stiles' head came back up.

"Do it again," I ordered him, louder than I probably should have, given that we were hiding from rabid werewolves. He muttered some more, much more aggravated this time, before repeating his actions, again, and again. "Oh, God, Derek's going to kill us."

"Shut up, Amber," Stiles hissed at me, dropping the side of his head to her chest and listening for a second, before groaning and blowing into her mouth again. I held a hand over my mouth to keep me from saying anything else, and I just watched as Stiles grew more and more frustrate. Worried. Until, eventually, finally, Stiles blew a breath into her mouth and she sucked it in, choking a little as Stiles fell back against his seat, his mouth wide open.

"Oh my God, you did it," I blew out, a short laugh following close behind as I stared at his equally shocked face.

He laughed a little, watching for a second as Cora breathed, before turning to shrug at me nonchalantly. "Always the tone of surprise."

Stiles and I had been sitting in complete silence, the only sound between us being the three of us breathing - three, thank the lord - for what felt like hours, and we hadn't heard a peep out of anyone. No one had come back, no one had text us. We had no clue what was going on outside of this ambulance. The only saving grace we had was that if Scott was seriously injured, I would've known about it by now. I hope.

"So you're teaming up with a vampire now?" Stiles asked me suddenly, breaking through both the silence and my thoughts. I sighed, hearing the judgement in his tone.

"A month ago you didn't believe me, despite how much I begged you to take me seriously," I pointed out, staring at the wall opposite us. "And now you're judging me for accepting her help when there was no one else to help me?"

Stiles scoffed. "It's not like we wanted to leave you stranded in the woods. We didn't even realize you were missing until Scott and I went looking for Lydia, and I found your phone on the floor outside the school. And by that point-"

"Y'all realized Miss Blake was trying to kill Lydia, yeah, I get it." I huffed, pulling my feet to rest on the bench with me, wrapping my arms around my legs. "I'm not blaming you for not finding me, but Rebekah actually did. And she helped me."

"After she got bored of threatening everybody you love," Stiles sighed, and when I turned to him with an eyebrow raised, he just shrugged. "Are you kidding me?"

"She could have left me in that hole, Stiles," I argued. He just rolled his eyes angrily. "But she didn't. She got me out, she healed me-"

"What do you mean, she healed you?" Stiles asked me, his eyes narrow slits. I shrugged, a little self-conscious.

"With her blood," I said quietly, but Stiles definitely heard it. His eyes widened, hardened. "I... drank it."

"You drank vampire blood?"

"It was that or struggle with all the pain," I said defensively, pursing my lips and daring him to argue with me. "I don't know what the hell Miss Blake did to me, but it definitely resulted in some serious damage to both my arm and my ankle. Maybe a concussion, too." I looked away again, shrugging. "She got me out of there, she got me to where I needed to be, and, right now, she's up there helping your best friend fight an abomination of a werewolf, because I asked her to."

"So you trust her now?"

I scoffed. "Oddly, I trust her a hell of a lot more that I trust Peter."

"Peter isn't exactly the model of trustworthy allies, though, is he?" I had to give him that. "I just... You need to be careful."

"I know that, Stiles," I said, letting my head loll to the side as it leaned against the side of the ambulance to look at him. "Despite popular opinion, I ain't stupid."

"I'd like to say that I know you're not stupid," Stiles started, shrugging a shoulder. "Because, usually, you're not. But this is just off the chart stupidity."

"Stiles-"

"No, Am, you're putting your trust in an immortal creature that feeds off human blood," he pointed out, and, okay, when he put it like that, it did sound a little ridiculous.

"It ain't like I'm putting my life in her hands, Stiles," I tried quietly, trying to make him see this from my point of view. Sure, Rebekah had her flaws. But nobody was perfect. And she could have left me in that hole, could have gotten rid of one of her snooping problems, but she didn't. Surely that proved she wasn't all bad. "I am being careful. I promise."

Stiles watched me for a long moment, his eyes flicking between mine, before he finally sighed, shrugging again. "Fine. But it you go missing, or we find your dead body, she'll be my number one suspect."

I smiled, tipping my head. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Stilinski."

We fell into silence again. I didn't know how Stiles' felt, but I was too tired from the day's events to focus on holding up another conversation like the one we'd just had, and Stiles and I weren't exactly the type for small talk, so the silence was welcomed.

"What if Cora was right?" Stiles asked suddenly, staring at the wall. I wasn't completely sure he wasn't talking to himself.

"What are you talking about?"

Stiles was quiet for a second, a thoughtful frown on his face. "We're not helping anyone. People are dying, and we can't do anything about it. All we do is show up in time to find the bodies." I struggled to find something to say, something to ease that crease between his eyebrows. Nothing came to mind. "I don't want to find my father's body." Again, no helpful, soothing words came to mind. Stiles was right; all we had been able to do was find the dead bodies first. There was no easier way to put it. We sucked at saving people. No matter how hard we had tried, Erica and Boyd and Heather... they were all still dead. We hadn't been able to save them, and now Stiles' dad was missing. No, he wasn't missing. Missing implied that nobody knew where he was. Miss Blake knew exactly where he was, and was keeping stored away, ready to make him one of her final sacrifices. That's if she wasn't lying, and he hadn't met that fate already.

I couldn't lie to Stiles, couldn't make him any false promises. So, instead, I did the only other thing I could think to do in that moment; I reached out my hand and laid it softly over his own where it was clenched into a fist against the edge of the bench, his knuckled white with the pressure. He looked down at our hands, sagging back against the side of the ambulance with a loud sigh, before he twisted his hand around just a little, enough to slide our hands together, squeezing my fingers tightly for a second.

I had nothing else to say, no other way to comfort him. But, for now, that seemed like enough.

Even when we heard a growling outside the ambulance, followed by the sight of a large, terrifying shadow against the wall of the basement we were waiting in, Stiles and I didn't move. We sat exactly where we were, both of us too petrified to even let go of each other's hands. I think the contact actually helped to keep me at least semi-rational, though. Not that I'd admit it.

The next time either of us did anything other than breathe, it was a minute or so after the twins had passed, as Stiles sat bolt upright, his startled eyes spinning to me.

"Did you hear that?"

And aren't those the four words that absolutely nobody wants to hear while there's a pack of rabid alpha werewolves hunting down your friends while you hide in an enclosed space?

"Hear what?" I asked him, my voice trembling a little at the thought of his answer. He didn't get a chance to, however, before I caught the sound of footsteps against concrete. My eyes fluttered shut as I let out a slow, controlled breath. "That I can hear."

Neither of us spoke, neither of us moved, as we listened to the footsteps growing louder, closer, until they slowed just outside the ambulance doors. I held my breath, waiting for blood red eyes to pop up at the window, and I think Stiles reached out a hand to the door, as if he could some how keep it closed if one of the werewolves with the super strength tried to pry it open from the outside. But then we both jumped in our seats when Scott's bloody head popped up instead.

"Open the door," he shouted quickly, Peter's face close to his, an arm wrapped over Scott's shoulders. I didn't have time to imagine how terrible that fight must have been to have Peter half dead on his feet, Stiles jumping up to swing the door wide open, allowing Scott to shove Peter into the small space with us.

"Where's Derek and Jennifer?" Stiles asked him as Peter crawled up further and collapsed onto the bench beside me, despite my quiet groans of protest.

Scott huffed. "I have to go back for them, and my mom."

"Okay, well, two problems," Stiles informed him, tipping his head. "Kali's got the keys to this thing, and we just saw the twins, like, thirty seconds ago." Scott turned to look over his shoulder, in the same direction that Stiles had gestured to.

"Stay here," he told us, not leaving much room for argument before he span on his feet and took off again, leaving the eldest and youngest Hales in our care, apparently. Because we're totally qualified for that.

"Okay, so..." I paused, biting my lip in thought for a second, ignoring Peter's grumbling as he snoozed on the bench beside me. "Never have I ever... spied on one of my neighbors from behind a curtain."

"Okay, a) you barely have neighbors," Stiles pointed out, and sure, I had to give him that. "I think the nearest house to your's in Derek's, and you'd never be able to spy on him from your house."

"I had close neighbors in Nashville, and I still never peeped," I told him, despite his eye roll. "What's the b in your defense?"

Stiles shrugged, a little contritely. "I'm the Sheriff's son; I peep for the good of the community."

I shook my head at him in disgust, barely able to suppress the laughter that was bubbling up in my throat.

"Okay, my go," Stiles cut in, forgetting all about his misdemeanors. "Never have I ever fired a gun."

I narrowed my eyes at his innocent look. "Okay, I may have fired a few shots over the summer," I admitted. "My uncle Drew was teaching Josh and I how to shoot."

"You're terrible, aren't you?" I bit my lip and nodded, ignoring Stiles' quiet, and delighted, chuckle.

"I almost shot my brother in the foot, like three times," I told him, smiling at the memory of Josh's childlike screams. "After that, Drew thought I should stick to the magic stuff."

"Probably a good call."

"Also, don't think I believe for a second that you've never fired a gun," I warned Stiles, pointing a finger at his dismissive wave of a hand. "No self-respecting Sheriff would let his son grow up not knowing his way around a gun." I ignored Stiles' small sound of complaintand continued on with the game we'd been playing a little since Scott left us. "Never have I ever had braces."

"Okay, now I know you've seen those god-awful photos of me as a kid in my house, so you already know my answer to that," Stiles said, not even finishing his sentence before I started cackling at the image in my head. I had seen those photos, braces and all. And, not that I'd ever inform Stiles of this, but he'd looked pretty darn cute as a kid. Like, Cindy Lou Who kind of cute. "Never have I ever tee-peed a boy's house because he stood me up."

I glared straight ahead, past Stiles' head and out through the window. "I thought I had told Allison that in confidence."

"Nah," Stiles scoffed, waving a hand again. "You told Allison, Allison told Scott, Scott told me... I told just about everybody that would listen. Nothing stays safe in our circle for long."

"You're very right about that," I murmured, a memory of a conversation about The Evil Dead I'd once had with Scott surfacing. "Never have I ever screamed at a horror movie."

"Damn it, Scott!" he cried, somehow managing to keep his voice to a respectable level in the confines of the ambulance we were still hiding out in. I giggled, watchign Stiles shake his head even as he grinned. "We never should have started playing this game."

"Hey, it was your idea," I countered, laughing harder when he groaned with realization.

"Just, uh, for future reference," Stiles started, sitting up straight and leaning against the side of the ambulance. "Should it ever come up, I actually haven't ever fired a gun." I snorted disbelievingly, but Stiles shrugged. "My mom always hated them; said if I want to learn to shoot when I'm old enough, I could make that choice myself and take a real course in it, but until then, I wasn't to touch a gun."

I pulled my lip in between my teeth for a second, nodding. "And you never decided you wanted to learn?"

Stiles shrugged again. "I guess not. I thought about joining the force for a while, figured I'd learn then if I did. But we live in Beacon Hills, where nothing bad ever happens, and my dad's the sheriff, so why would I ever need to learn?"

I snorted after a beat of silence. "Jeez, how stupid were you?"

His responding laugh was cut short when we heard the squeak of tires breaking just outside the ambulance, signalling Isaac's arrival. I shook Peter, jerking him awake from his nap, and he jumped into action, shoving past me and throwing the doors open, Stiles helping him lower Cora down from the gurney and into Peter's arms. Stiles held the door open for me as I hopped down after them, running for the car and ready to get the hell out of dodge, when Stiles stilled, staring at the door. I groaned, spinning around and throwing my arms out.

"Stiles," I said, trying to draw his attention from whatever it was that had caught his attention.

"Come on," Isaac shouted, running back around to the driver's side of the car. "Stiles! Let's go!" Stiles glanced at Isaac and I for a second, his eyes spinning from us to whatever else was so important right now, before he seemed to come to a decision, and darted off in the opposite direction, back into the hospital.

"Stiles!" I called after him, watching him disappear with my mouth open. "Shit. Go," I told Isaac, waving off his complaints as I took off after Stiles. "Get Cora out of here."

I was going to kill that boy when I caught up to him.

The only reason I did actually manage to catch up to him was by following the sound of his voice as he called out to Scott, his voice twisted with worry. And then, as I rounded a corner and bolted out into the hallway, I skidded to a stop just behind him as he stared down at an unconscious Derek, crumpled on the floor of the elevator.

"What happened?" I asked him, a little breathless from both the run and the fear. "Why'd you run off? We could have gotten the hell out of here."

"Stay with Derek," he ordered, still for a second before he moved to run again. I grabbed at his arm to stop him from going far, and he growled. "We don't have time for this?"

"What is going on?"

"It's not Guardians like the police force," Stiles said, raising his eyebrows. "It's Guardians, like parents." My breath hitched a little, dropping my hand from Stiles' sleeve.

"Scott's mom."

Stiles nodded. "Stay with Derek," he said again, quieter this time, less urgent, before he span and disappeared from my sight again, leaving me alone with the unconscious alpha. I blew out a breath and dropped to my knees beside Derek, figuring I could find something at least semi-useful to do with my time and try to wake Derek.

Turns out, it's easier said than done.

I tried just about everything that I could think to try; I shook him, I screamed at him, and I slapped him a couple of times, too. And while it was incredibly therapeutic, it definitely wasn't successful. So I sat back on my legs and grumbled to myself, glaring at Derek's sleeping form. And then I resorted to pounding angrily at his chest a few times, which did nothing but wiggle his body around on the floor, eyes still firmly shut.

"Maybe you should hit him," Stiles said suddenly from behind me, causing me to jump about a foot in the air and choke a little. He huffed a small laugh while I glared some more.

"I already tried that," I told him, turning back to Derek with a sigh. "He ain't budging."

"We need to get him out of here. Like, now; I'm pretty sure I heard police sirens."

"Well, what the hell do you expect us to do?" I asked him, shrugging my shoulders and deflating. "We could barely carry his weight in eight feet of water, what makes you think we'll be able to do it now?"

"I don't know, how about desperation?" Stiles suggested, his eyes widening in frustration for a second. "Just punch him or someth-"

"Shh," I said sharply, sitting up a little straighter and closing my eyes, resting a hand on Derek's outstretched arm. Stiles quietened, huffing a little as he began to pace, and let me focus. I breathed out slowly, muttering a small "osox", grinning and ignoring the sharp stabbing in my temples when I heard Derek's responding cry of pain.

"What the hell was that for?" he cried, bringing his arm up to his chest even as the bone started to mend itself. Then he glanced around the metal box, taking in his surroundings, and his face grew hard. "Where is she?"

"Jennifer?" Stiles asked, running a hand down his face. "Gone, with Scott's mom."

"She took her?" Derek asked, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, and if that'd not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion," Stiles said, my head spinning back to him in shock.

"He what?" I asked him, my voice quiet and breathy. Scott would never.

"He thinks it's the only way to find his mom," Stiles tried to explain, shaking his head as he said it, and then moving his hands from his hips to his hair to pull at it. "We gotta get the hell out of here, okay?" He leaned forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet, moving to Derek the second I was stable.

"Whoa, wait," Derek said, frowning for a second. Stiles huffed again. "What about Cora?"

"She's with Isaac and Peter," I told him as Stiles helped him upright, then backing away and leading us back down the hallways that led to the front of the hospital. "I think she's okay."

"You think?" Derek snapped. I rolled my eyes.

"I ain't a professional werewolf physician, so yeah, I think." I ignored Derek's low grumbling, instead turning to the long list of problems we were facing right now. "So, this place is a mess, there's blood everywhere, and Ms McCall is missing. What are we going to tell the cops?"

"I'll figure it out," Stiles said distractedly as we reached the front desk, Derek rushing past us to the front doors. "Just, go with Derek and make sure Cora's okay. Explain everything to the rest of them."

"Derek can explain everything," I argued, shaking my head. "I'm staying here."

"The cops will be here any minute," Stiles warned, sighing as his hands rested on his hips. "You ca't be here."

"Why not?" I asked, shrugging a shoulder. "We're just two teenagers who were visiting a hospitalized friend, and who happened to get stuck in the elevator during the evacuation when the power went out."

"Am-"

"Not leaving, I said, smiling firmly as I dropped down into one of the seats lining the wall across from the main desk. "Besides, I haven't seen Rebekah since she left to help Scott and Peter."

"Oh, sure," Stiles drew out, dropping down beside me. "You're not staying for me, your friend. You're staying for the blood-sucking blonde that you barely know."

"Exactly," I nodded, smiling. "I'm glad you understand." Stiles hummed, raising his eyebrows for a second before he blew out a long, distressed breath, and sagged against the back of the seat. I watched him stare at his feet for a second, something ticking away in his jaw. He was quiet for a long time. "Scott knows what he's doing." Stiles scoffed. "He's doing what he thinks is best, Stiles."

"He left me," Stiles said quietly, still staring at the floor. "He just left."

"Because he wants to find his mom, and your dad, and he doesn't know any other way to do it." Stiles still refused to look up from the floor, so I huffed. "Maybe I can give it a go."

"You'll hurt yourself," Stiles murmured, frowning. "Jennifer isn't just going to hand your their location on a silver platter."

"I can at least try, Stiles," I argued, getting up and rounding the desk, opening any unlocked drawers and cabinets that I could. "It's a much better idea than sitting on my ass and wallowing." Stiles didn't respond as I searched the desk, mumbling to myself as I tried to find a map. I know, the likelihood of finding a map in a hospital desk was slim, but I couldn't sit next to Stiles and watch him mope about the best friend that ditched him to join the rabid alpha pack any longer. I slammed another draw shut when I found it void of anything even remotely resembling a map of Beacon Hills, and Stiles raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say your search isn't going so well," he said, watching me as I narrowed my eyes at him, twisting my lips in an irritated pout.

"Shut it, Stilinski."

A loud crash from down the hall sounded, and I stepped out from behind the desk to peer around the corner, seeing uniformed deputies filing in one by one, torches out and scanning the room. When they spotted us, Stiles smiled and waved at them, like there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, this is Beacon Hills. This is the ordinary.

I abandoned my search in fear of looking more than a little suspicious, and returned to my seat beside Stiles, pulling one of my legs under me and hooking my other leg over my knee. I figured we'd be here for a while, so I might as well try to get as comfortable as possible in the horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, and we sat there in horribly uncomfortable silence, Stiles' knee bouncing the entire time.

"He's gonna come back," I promised him, surprisingly sure of myself and the statement as I said it. "We're gonna figure this out, and he's gonna come back."

It took a moment, but Stiles finally nodded, shooting me a smile out of the corner of his eye, before it instantly dropped as he looked behind me. I frowned, spinning my head to look over my shoulder, to find what Stiles had seen, but I could see nothing that should cause that kind of reaction. I turned back to Stiles, the look on my face asking what was wrong, but he didn't have a chance to answer me before a tall man in a suit approached us, looking all sorts of official and disappointed.

"A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess," the man said, looking down his crooked nose at Stiles, who he apparently knew well enough to use that condescending tone with. I didn't know this man, and yet something about him had me instantly disliking him. "What a shocker. Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

Stiles glared a little, rolling his head along the wall behind us. "If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid."

"Is it safe to assume that y'all know each other?" I asked the both of them, my eyes glancing from one to the other. Stiles sighed.

"Amber, this is FBI Agent McCall," Stiles said, gesturing to the man. My mouth dropped open as I tried to respond to that. My eyes widened as I looked up at him, with his dark hair and darker eyes. I was happy to say that Scott did not resemble his father in the slightest. "Scott's dad."

"Yeah, I got that," I murmured, smiling awkwardly at the man - Agent McCall. He didn't smile back.

"Where's your dad, Stiles?" he asked, looking expectantly back to Stiles, who gritted his teeth. "And why has no one been able to contact him?"

"I don't know," Stiles answered, shrugging. "I haven't seen him in hours."

"Is he drinking again?"

Stiles' face hardened, dropping his head for a second to shake it. "What do you mean, again?" He never had to stop."

"But he did have to slow down," Agent McCall argued, nodding. Yeah, I definitely didn't like him. "Is he drinking like he used to?"

"All right, how about this?" Stiles asked, smiling with more sarcasm than I ever thought he'd be able to muster. And I've seen Stiles muster a lot. "Next time I see him, I'll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We'll do the alphabet, start with f, end with u."

Agent McCall smiled, but didn't look impressed with Stiles' response. "How about the two of you just tell me what the hell happened here?" he decided, pulling out a small notebook and pen and flipping it open, jotting something down. "You and Miss..." he trailed off, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Wilson," I supplied, eyeing him carefully. "Amber Wilson." He nodded, writing in his little book, before looking back up at us with an expectant look on his face.

"We didn't see anything," Stiles answered his earlier question, sighing again. "We came here to visit a friend, and we got stuck in the elevator when the power went out. We were in there the entire time."

Agent McCall looked back at me calculatingly, narrowing his eyes a little. "You're not the ones who put the name on the doors, are you?" he asked, and Stiles' head shot up to stare at me, his eyes as wide as I'm sure mine were. Miss Blake had escaped with Scott's mom, and she needed one more sacrifice to complete her set of three. Whoever's name was on those doors...

"What name?" he asked, sounding like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Agent McCall looked a little put off by the urgency in Stiles' voice, on our faces. "Someone painted a name on the elevator doors. You didn't see it?"

"What name?" I repeated, my voice a little harder than Stiles' had been as I got to my feet, raising my eyebrows at the man when he just stared, his eyes narrowing a little more.

"Argent."

"No, I'm taking you home," Stiles argued, ignoring my complaints completely. "I will meet the Argents back at their apartment after I get you home."

"Are you kidding me?" I cried, shaking my head. "Allison's my friend, and Miss Blake is coming after her dad. What am I gonna do, go home and have a snack?"

"That's exactly what you're gonna do," Stiles agreed, nodding. "You're gonna go home, you're gonna take a nap, have something to eat, then go to school."

"Oh, lord... I can't believe you. You are actually beginning to sound like my daddy."

"Speaking of," Stiles said, raising an eyebrow at me as he shot down the road. I think speeding had become second nature to him now. "When was the last time you saw your dad?"

I thought about it. "Last night."

"Last night?" I nodded. "Before the recital that you never showed up at, because you had been abducted by Jennifer and left in the woods to die?"

My eyes grew a little wide, and I blew out a breath, nodding again. "Yeah, then. Shit, he's gotta be going crazy by now."

"Your phone is in here somewhere," Stiles said after a second. I frowned at him, but he just shrugged, feeling around the dashboard in vain as we sped along the side of the preserve. "I left it in here after we found it outside the auditorium. I meant to give it to you earlier, but..."

"A lot has happened between then and now, it's fine," I told him, smiling and ducking so I could look around on the floor for it as we neared my house. I spotted it under Stiles' seat, reached over and grabbed it, sitting back up and blowing the hair out of my face. I pressed the center button, waiting for the screen to light up, but nothing happened. "It's dead," I muttered, nodding my head, because of course it was dead. "It's dead, and my daddy has probably been calling me all night, and it would have been going straight to voicemail. He probably thinks I've been crazy murdered and left dangling from the side of a tree."

"Number 341 in the list of reasons why you should be at home right now," Stiles said pointedly, and I huffed. "Charge your phone, and I will keep you updated on everything that goes on over at the Argent's place, okay?" I nodded after a long few seconds of pouting, which Stiles absolutely ignored, and Stiles nodded back, pulling into my drive and slowing to a stop a few feet from the porch. "Call me if you need anything."

"Ditto," I responded, smiling at him again before I jumped out of the Jeep, slamming the door shut behind me. I hopped up the steps and opened the door quietly, headed straight upstairs to my room, avoiding all the creaking steps as I tried not to wake anyone. The sun might have been up, but it was still the early hours of the morning, so no one else was yet. And try as I might to follow Stiles' suggestion, I led back against he pillows as soon as I had plugged my phone in to charge, trying to at least catch a little shut-eye. But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was that horribly scarred face of Miss Blake. So, instead, I curled up on my bed with Poe and waited for Stiles to text, responded as he informed me of all the crazy-ass guns the Argents kept in their study and seeking out the map Daddy had in his, before going to shower and change into some fresh clothes. Then I returned to my post beside my phone.

A little while later, after I'd heard shuffling feet headed downstairs and muffled voices from the kitchen, I managed to work up the courage to follow them, poking my head into the kitchen with a wince and waiting for all hell to break loose. Only, nothing broke loose.

"Morning, Amber," Daddy said after I'd wandered over to the counter, Josh's head perking up from the breakfast table and raising his eyebrows at me in question. "I wasn't expecting you to be home until later."

I frowned, not sure how to respond. I settled on "what?"

"I thought you'd be going straight to school from Lydia's," he said, turning so he could lean against the counter. "Did you forget something?"

I gaped for a minute, before shaking my head and laughing. "Yeah, I needed a change of clothes," I said, smiling at Daddy as he handed me a mug of very welcomed coffee and hoping I was thinking along the right track. "It was a very impromptu sleepover, so..."

"How's she doing?" Daddy asked, a sympathetic look in his eyes. I nodded.

"Yeah, she's okay," I told him, lying my ass off. I'd only just gotten my phone back, and I'd been too preoccupied with Stiles' texts to even check in with her. I was a terrible friend. "A little freaked out, but okay."

"Good," Daddy said, smiling genuinely. "You want pancakes?" I nodded, smiling back at him, and he turned his back to me to face the stove again. That's when I shot Josh a pointed look, followed by a jerk of my head. He got up from his seat, muttering something about using the bathroom, before ever-so-subtly running out of the kitchen.

"Why does he think I was at Lydia's all night?"

"Because that's what I told him," Josh answered, his voice a harsh whisper over Daddy's distracted humming. "When I realized you hadn't followed us into the school, I text Jackson to find out where you were, figuring it was something important. The next thing I know, Stilinski is texting me - don't ask how he got my number; I ain't got a clue, but I'm blaming Jackson - saying that something happened with Lydia and that they couldn't find you, but I should tell dad that you were with her, because we had no other explanation as to where you had disappeared to, and no idea how long you'd be gone."

I raised my eyebrows at Josh. "That's actually kind of impressive," I told him honestly. "Nicely done, all of you." Then a thought struck me. "But of Stiles was the one who text you, telling you to tell Daddy that, then why would he..." He'd pulled the Concerned Father card on me, knowing it wouldn't fail at getting me to agree to go home, all the while knowing that Daddy was none the wiser of my disappearance. "Sneaky bastard."

I told him as much when he swung by to pick me up on his way to Lydia's a little while later.

"Don't hate me?" he tried, wincing a little.

"I'm serious, Stiles," I argued, my arms folded tightly across my chest. "I wanted to go with you, and instead you guilt-tripped me into going home, when I didn't even need to."

"You did need to," he disagreed, nodding his head. "Okay, you were knocked unconscious and abducted by a darach, who stole your power and left you in a hole in the middle of the woods, before we were chased around the hospital for a while by angry werewolves, and then you got your magic back in what sounded like a pretty excruciating experience. You needed to sleep."

"Well, your plan failed," I informed him, my voice tinged with bitterness. "I didn't sleep at all. I just kept seeing her face." I perked up then, a smile lighing up my face as I dug around in my bag. "On the bright side..." I pulled out the map with a flourish, grinning at Stiles, who promptly shook his head with a groan as I laid it out flat on my lap.

"No, no, you're going to hurt yourself," he said. I hissed through my teeth sheepishly.

"Actually," I said, digging a hand into my jeans pocket and pulling out the safety pin I had stored there. "I'm going to hurt you."

"What?" Stiles exclaimed, batting my hand away when I scooted closer, trying to grab one of his fingers. "Don't come near me with that thing."

"I need your blood," I tried, grabbing for his hand again.

"Yeah, not the most calming thing you can say to a guy," he said, shoving me away.

"Stiles."

"Amber," he mocked, his eyes wide. "You're not poking me with that thing."

"That's what she said," I couldn't stop myself from muttering. Stiles turned to gape at me, and I smiled victoriously when I managed to use his surprise to my advantage and clasp one of Stiles hands in my own, piercing the skin of the very tip of his finger with the pin, blood already beading when I pulled it away again.

"Uh, ow," Stiles complained, even as he let me pull his hand over the map.

"Shut up," I groaned, rolling my eyes at his theatrics as I watched a few droplets fall onto the map. "Ideally, I could use more blood, but since you're being such a baby about it..."

"It's not going to work," he argued, his voice rising a little as he yanked his hand back. "Every time you do any magic, you start bleeding, and she's smart enough to know how to keep you from figuring this out."

"I have to try," I said, muttering the same incantation that I had used to find Deaton under my breath. I ignored Stiles' sighs, even as they grew more angered when I felt the blood begin to drip from my nose.

"Amber, stop it," he tried again, ignoring my quiet chants. When I continued, I felt the car jerk a little, followed by Stiles' hand coming over to whisk the map away from my lap.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. The only answer I got was Stiles ripping the map to shreds and throwing the paper out of his window, slamming it shut with a pointed glare in my direction. "Are you kidding me?"

"It wasn't going to work."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I had a pretty big inkling before you started, but when your nose started bleeding on the second verse, I knew."

"It takes longer than that."

"Why aren't you listening to me?"

"Because you're being stupid."

"I'm being stupid? You're being stupid."

"Good comeback."

"I don't care if it was a good comeback. You are being stupid."

"Stiles, I cannot just sit here and wait for something to happen!" I told him, the hands in my hair pulling a little, just to ease all of the tension. "I have the ability to help, and I'm going to use it."

"Even if it means killing yourself in the process?"

"A location spell is not going to kill me, Stiles."

"Answer the question, Amber," he said slowly, his eyes wide as they stared into mine. "I'm not talking about right now, just in general. You have the ability to help, and you're going to use it. Even if it means killing yourself in the process."

I was quiet for a while, not able to look away.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Hey, wait, so you're a banshee?"

Lydia nodded, her eyes wide. "Apparently."

I shook my head, blowing out a long breath. "That makes total sense," I thought aloud. "You sense death, you appear at the scenes of violent murders, you wail when you find dead bodies. But Miss Blake didn't know that until after she'd already tried to strangle you once?" She nodded again, biting her lip.

"What if that's not why she tried to kill me?" Lydia asked us, asked herself.

"Then why did she?" Stiles asked back, leaning against the back of the chair facing Lydia. "Why you?"

Lydia shrugged. "That's what we need to find you."

"How?" I asked, throwing my arms wide. "She has disappeared, once again, and it ain't like we can just ask her anyway."

"I don't know yet," Lydia admitted, narrowing her eyes in thought. "But we need to get to school; we're late as it is, and maybe Jackson can help figure it out."

Stiles scoffed. "Don't even start," I warned him, holding up a finger. "I ain't in the mood to listen to you moan about Jackson this morning."

"I am sorry about your map, okay?"

"You should be," I growled, spinning on my heel and striding out of Lydia's room, she and Stiles following close behind me. "It was the only one in the house."

"I'll buy you a new one."

"Damn right you will."

"What is going on with you two?" Lydia moaned, stomping down the stairs behind me.

"Amber's being a martyr," Stiles explained, much to my dismay. And then, of course, Lydia asked what he meant, so, of course, Stiles felt it absolutely necessary to inform her of everything that had happened at the hospital last night.

It was the most infuriating car ride of my life, and Lydia now thinks I'm crazy.

My day's going great, thanks for asking.

Okay, so I found this chapter kind of challenging to write. I really struggled to sit down and focus on the story enough to write, which is why it's a little late, so I apologise if it's not too great, or a bit stop-and-start throughout.

Thanks for reading, guys. Stay fetch.