November 19th, 2004 [Age 9]

The girl tried to be as quiet as she could. She padded softly across the room walking toward the window to look at the outside. There was no way that she could sleep with how loud the thunder was. She pulled herself up onto the windowsill with some difficulty and started to watch the raindrops race down the window. Every time two drops would start to go down at the same time she would try to predict which one would reach the bottom first. She only looked away when she heard some sniffling. She looked over to see a boy in the bed closest to her. He held onto his blanket tightly, his legs kicking restlessly. His eyes were shut tightly and his breathing seemed ragged. She thought that he must be having a bad dream. She knew that this was her chance to prove herself. She could prove to everyone that she wasn't bad; she wasn't a monster to be feared. She just needed to make his nightmare go away.

She hopped off of the windowsill carefully, still being careful to not make any noise. She creeped over to the boy and extended her claws. She placed them on his chest. The moment she did she was bombarded with not only flashes from the nightmares, but his memories, his wishes, his innermost secrets. She didn't have full control of her abilities and she realized that this had been a terrible idea, but she couldn't pull away.

She was standing there in the nightmare as a werewolf clawed at the boy; it dug its claws into his chest and bit down hard on his shoulder. He cried out in pain over and over again. He tried to kick the werewolf off of him, but he was so weak compared to the wolf. The girl wanted to help him, but she wasn't sure how. She wanted to change the dream, but she didn't know how she could do that. Then, in a flash, the dream shifted. Instead of the wolf clawing at the boy, it was her. Her claws dug into his abdomen, and she knew that hers hurt more than the wolf's because her claws were steel; as tough and sharp as a sword. His cries became outright yelling; he was howling in pain and screaming for someone, anyone, to help him. The girl wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She couldn't will herself to stop. The screams hurt her ears. They were loud. She wanted them to stop, and, before she knew it, her fangs were dug into the boy's neck—into his trachea. She wasn't going to rip out his throat; she couldn't move, but she could feel the boy was silent now, except for his wheezing. Oh God, she thought. She was suffocating him. If she could rip his throat out, he would die a quick death, but this way it was going to be slow and painful. She felt the blood seeping into her mouth and dripping down her chin. There were tears falling from her eyes, racing down her chin the way the raindrops had raced down the windowsill. She had to remind herself that this was all just a dream.

She didn't pull out of it until the boy had finally stopped breathing. She opened her eyes and found herself back in the real world. She looked down at the boy to see her claws no longer on the boys chest, but in them. They punctured his chest, and his lungs; he had really suffocated. She had really killed him. She pulled out her claws seeing her hand now covered in blood. She stepped back. She was horrified. She turned back to the window, hopping onto the windowsill once again. She forced the window open, and climbed out of it, jumping down to the wet floor underneath her. She didn't care that the mud was oozing in between her toes or that the rain was drenching her nightgown and washing away the blood. She just knew that she had to get out of here because when everyone woke up and saw the puncture wounds on his chest, they would know that she had been the one that had killed him.

Sunday, January 22nd, 2012

Stiles could feel a slight breeze blowing in through the window. He lay on his bed staring at the wall, hoping that Gabriella really would come. He was scared that she might change her mind—that she might realize that he wasn't worth her time. Stiles suddenly felt a hand on his back causing him to jump and turn around.

"It's only me," she whispered. He sighed letting himself relax again. He hadn't heard her come in at all. He moved over toward the edge of the bed so that she would have enough room to lie down next to him. She sat down on the bed, taking the time to remove her shoes first. She turned around to face him, shifting her body so that she could lie down next to him.

"Are you always the little spoon? I know you always are with Malia," said Gabriella.

"How do you know that?" asked Stiles. He saw her eyes widen. She averted her gaze. She made an expression, as if she was blushing, but he couldn't see if she was because her russet skin wouldn't show any tinges of pink on her face. Stiles put two and two together. She must have watched him before while he was sleeping.

"You're a creep. You know that?" he said. She whined the way a cat does and, for some reason, Stiles found it adorable. "I don't really like being the little spoon, but it's the most comfortable position, I've found."

"Hmm. What have you tried?" Gabriella inquired.

"Being the big spoon and her on my chest while I'm on my back."

"Okay, are you willing to try something different?" Stiles nodded. "Lay down on your side," she said. Stiles did what he was told staring at her with a confused look on his face. She shifted to lay on her side so that they faced each other. She moved so that she was close to him—very close, thought Stiles. She moved his legs with hers so that they intertwined with one another. She turned her right hand slightly so that she could interlock her fingers with his. She set her left hand on his head, burying her hand in his hair, and began to run her fingers across his scalp. Stiles found the gesture soothing. He moved his right hand so that it lay atop the side of her waist, and he slightly pulled her closer to him. Gabriella liked being this close to him. She could see every single one of his freckles and how dark the irises of his eyes were.

"I like this," said Stiles. "I like this a lot." Gabriella smiled.

"I'm glad you think so," she said. Stiles' eyes closed as they lay in silence. Gabriella's hands never left from his hair, and Stiles' did not move from her waist. Thought, at one point, she did move slightly to readjust herself and, in the process, her shirt lifted up slightly causing Stiles' hand to touch skin instead of fabric. Her skin felt so soft under his hands; she appeared to him so hardened to the world, but he knew that she was softer than she seemed. And like that, her skin was softer than he had expected. He opened his eyes to see Gabriella's staring right back at him.

"Have you been staring at me this entire time?" asked Stiles.

"No," she said scoffing, but he could tell that she was lying.

"You're a creep, you know that?"

"So I've heard," she said. She looked away at him and they stayed in silence for a few more minutes. Time seemed to be ticking by slowly and Stiles was glad for that. He was enjoying this and wanted it to last for more than just a couple of hours. Her eyes were no longer staring at him, observing his features, and he was slightly saddened that she wasn't. He loved that she seemed to be so fascinated by him. No one had ever taken as much interest in him as she seemed to be doing—not even Malia.

Her eyes shifted back up to his face and he felt a little happier, a little warmer, on the inside.

"I like watching you," she said to him. "I like observing you. You have such perfect features. Your eyes are much lighter than they appear at first; and, though I can see some pain hidden behind them, your curiosity, your gentle nature—those are the qualities that shine through the most." She pulled her fingers out of his hair to trace them under his eyes. "And your freckles; they sprinkle across your face like stars in the night sky; scattered across like paint on a canvas. She was now tracing her fingers across his cheeks. "And your lips," she stopped, letting her fingers rest on the lower edge of his sleeps. Stiles was breathless; he felt so winded that he wasn't sure how he got out the next words that he spoke.

"What about my lips?" he asked.

"They're soft. They curve in the right places; and such a wonderful shade of pink." She traced her fingers across his lower lip now. Stiles looked down at her lips; he's never wanted to kiss anyone in his life as much as he wanted to kiss her in this moment. Their eyes met and he could tell that she felt the same way.

"They look so kissable," she whispered. If Stiles hadn't been paying as much attention to her as he was now, he would have missed what she had said. And God was he glad that he hadn't. His moved his head forward, as her fingers moved to his cheek, and pressed his lips against hers. He didn't feel any sparks; there was no fiery passion burning inside of him. What he felt was a need to bring her closer; he wanted her pressed as closely to him as he could get her. He pulled him against her, legs still entwined, hands on cheeks and hairs and hips, and their chests touching, breathing in sync. What he wanted was to feel her skin under his fingertips, her eyelashes brushing against his face. There weren't any sparks, but there was a connection—one that he had never felt before, but one that he adored. He was worried that it was an ephemeral feeling. He didn't want it to ever go away.

Gabriella felt bliss when Stiles had pressed his lips against hers. She wanted this time to be different; she wanted him to make the first move. This time was different, though, it felt less superficial—more intimate. She didn't feel any butterflies in her stomach, though. Her hearts didn't do any flips or skip any beats. But she felt a primal instinct stir within her. Her predatory nature wanted to come out. Not in the sense that he was her prey, but in the sense that he was hers. And God, did she want that. She didn't understand how it had gotten to this point. He was just a boy so far removed from her life—from what she was; but somehow he had made a huge impact in her life, and she never wanted to let him go. He had become a light to her darkness, the beauty to her beast.

Their kisses grew rougher before they grew softer; her hands eventually drifted to his chest as their lips molded together. And neither of them were sure when, but at some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Once again, Gabriella found herself in that white room with the bright lights. It was just as blinding as it had been before. She looked around, spotting a door like she had last time, but it wasn't the same door. As she walked toward it, she noticed that this door had leaves engraved on it, running across the border of the door. She gripped onto the doorknob and twisted it, pulling it toward her. On the other side of it she saw lush grass. It seemed to extend for forever. She stepped in, shutting the door softly behind her. She caught side of something ahead. It was too far for her to see exactly what it was, though. As she walked toward it she notice that it was a park. There were seesaws and monkey bars and slides all set on a square of concrete only large enough to allow these constructions to sit upon it. . It seemed out of place in this vast, never-ending field. She spotted Stiles ahead, seated on a swing. The swing set held four swings, two of which were for toddlers. She made to sit on the only available regular swing.

"So what is this place?" asked Gabriella. "Because I know this is definitely not of my making."

"It's a park I used to go to as a kid. My mom used to take me here."

"Hmm. I find it interesting that it's in the middle of nowhere. I mean, I'm assuming that this park is in Beacon Hills with houses and sidewalks and streets surrounding it. Yet here we are encircled by nothing but grass. Tell me Stiles, do you like isolation?" Stiles appeared to be deep in thought before answering.

"I don't think so, but it's something that I've had to grown used to."

"Why?"

"My friends include werewolves, a banshee, a kitsune, and even my girlfriend is a werecoyote," he said. "They can't really understand my problems anymore; they can't relate to me. They don't understand what it's like to be human; especially what it's like to be a human surrounded by the supernatural. I mean, technically I have my dad, but he's my dad. I can't talk to him about everything."

"Unfortunately, I'm just another person that you can add to that list. I'm not human and I never was, but we're more alike than either of us originally thought. If you talk to me about anything human, I will try my best to relate. Though, I don't have to relate to listen." She paused for a moment letting herself enjoy the feeling of the wind against her skin. "I have also had to get used to being isolated. The people in my life have always cast me out; they've never been able to understand me. I am, after all, a strange creature—one that not even I have met another of. I doubt I ever will. And on top of that, I'm a hunter; but even my hunter acquaintances can't accept me for what I am. So I can understand what it's like to feel secluded, at the least."

"I've felt," began Stiles, "even more cut off since last semester. Something happened to me and it's not really something that I can talk about with other people. I know that the pack thinks of me as a monster for what I did—even Scott. I know that he'll never forgive me except on the surface." Gabriella remained silent letting the sound of the whistling wind engulf them. She continued to swing gently, but noticed that Stiles had suddenly stopped his own swinging. She looked over at him and saw him biting his lip. He shuffled his feet on the floor as his hands played with the hem of his shirt.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" he questioned.

"No," she said. "I can tell that it's a difficult subject for you so I won't pry. I'll let you tell me of your own accord if you choose to share that information." Stiles hesitates for a moment.

"Last semester," he began, "I got possessed by an evil spirit. I hurt a lot of people during that time, and I even killed a dear friend—Scott's first love."

"Wait, do you mean Allison Argent?" Stiles seemed surprised.

"How do you know about that?"

"I was told about it when she died. I knew that someone who had been possessed killed her, but I didn't know that it was you. I knew her, actually; we were friends." Gabriella could smell the guilt radiating off of him. "I don't blame you for what happened though. I understand that it was not you, but the spirit that possessed you that did it. It was called a nogitsune, right?"

"I was possessed," he began, "but it may as well have been me who stabbed her. I wasn't strong enough to fight off the nogitsune. He took over because I was weak."

"You're not weak. Don't you see how strong you are? You're a human surrounded by supernatural creatures. You've been pulled into this supernatural world and have had to deal with a bunch of crazy enemies, but you've survived it all. Any other human would have probably died by now or abandoned their friends to escape the dangers that you've been through. But you've survived and you've stuck by them. And on top of all of that, you've managed to remain human."

"I wonder," said Stiles. Gabriella could tell that he was trying to change the subject, and she decided that she was going to let him. "Why didn't you know all of this information already? You have the ability to slip into my subconscious, right? Can't you access more than my dreams like my memories?"

"Yeah," she said. "I can access thoughts and memories. If I wanted to I could easily find out all of your deepest, darkest secrets, but I respect your privacy. I'll let you tell me whatever information you choose to disclose with me whenever you want.

"Hmm. Are your powers the reason that every time we've kissed I've had flashes of good memories. Well, not the last time, but the other times."

"What?" Gabriella looked taken aback. "That happened? That's never happened before." Gabriella thought back to their kisses. "I did put my hands on your chest when we first kissed. My claws weren't out, though, but maybe the kiss caused a special connection that allowed my powers to surface without my claws." Their conversation ceased for some odd number of minutes. Gabriella didn't mind the silence. She was happy to just enjoy the company of this boy that had somehow wormed his way into her heart. Stiles was lost in his thoughts. There was something about Gabriella that always made him think. If he wasn't thinking about her as a person, he was thinking about something she said or something she did or about how wonderful she smelled. Stiles stopped his thoughts before they could progress any further. He thought back to how she did seem to genuinely care about him. She had comforted him now and had protected him earlier that day. As he thought about the long and crazy day that he had had, he remembered how out of it she had seemed earlier that day.

"You seemed out of it earlier today," he said. "After Kate left. Are you okay now?" Gabriella was actually astonished. She had not expected for Stiles to notice something like that. She felt warm on the inside at the thought; he paid enough attention to her to notice that.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "She just brought up some old feelings is all. She reminded me that I really am a monster—that I'm a black sheep amongst the hunters. And she reminded me of how weak I am. I never seem able to protect the people I care about."

"You're not a monster! You're far from it. You're actually one of the nicest and caring people that I've ever met. Wow, if I told myself that a few weeks ago I would have thought that I was going crazy." Gabriella laughed at the comment. Suddenly, the pair start to hear a ringing noise echoing throughout the area.

"What's that?" asked Stiles.

"That's from outside—probably an alarm or phone. You're starting to wake, Stiles." He notices that she appears as if she's fading away. Her body starting to become a blur and fading into the background. "I'll see you on the other side," she said. And then she was gone.