It was both a blessing and a curse that the Beacon Hills lacrosse team was one of the most interesting things in town. On the one hand, they were great at what they did. They'd won three championships in a row, which gave the town a little bit of a claim to fame—beyond gruesome and mysterious murders—and rallied a proud spirit in every student, teacher, and parent alike. Which was sweet, if it weren't for the downside. Every lacrosse game was absolutely packed. It almost always felt as if the entire town had shown up, especially at such an important semi-final game. That meant there was no parking, hardly any seats, and it was nearly impossible to move without bumping into someone who'd come to support one team or the other.
I was already on edge, and the crowd wasn't making me feel any better. The best I could hope for was that they would be consistently loud and distracting. That was our best chance at stealing a trained hunter's keys, breaking into his office, obtaining top secret information and getting out without getting ourselves executed. Really, that was our only chance.
I had to elbow my way through an endless stream of people, fighting my way toward the player bench on Beacon Hill's side of the field. The game was barely a few minutes away from starting, and most of the players were already padded up and heading for their pre-game huddle. Luckily, the person I was looking for wasn't on first line, or even in uniform.
"Sadie! Geez, there you are!" Stiles jumped off and over the bench, reaching out to grab my hand and pull me towards the team, out of the way of the spectators fighting to find seats in time. "Are you okay? The game literally starts in like sixty seconds. What held you up?"
"Lydia," I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest and bouncing a little bit as the wind blew. "I tried to get her to come out, get some air, but she's pretty determined. She didn't want to deal with the crowds or having to see Jackson, so she wouldn't drive me. Mom went out shopping because she though Lyd was driving me, and basically we're all just really lucky that Mrs. McCall was running a little late too. What are you wearing?"
Stiles raised his eyebrows, glancing down at his attire and then back up at me. "It's a track suit. I thought that was pretty clear."
"And you play lacrosse, Stiles. I thought that was pretty clear. Or did you think the lacrosse sticks were pole vault equipment?"
"Very funny," he grumbled, making me smirk. "Well I know I'm not playing today, so I didn't bother."
"You could play. If everything goes well you'll be in and out of the school with the book in a couple minutes. That's plenty of time for some key players to get injured and you to have your time to shine."
"Yeah, that's if everything goes well, which happens approximately zero percent of the time. Besides, I'm the last person Coach would put on the field. He hasn't even noticed I'm not in my gear. He doesn't care."
I scrunched up my nose, sending a short glare to the Coach—who was screaming his lungs out in the middle of the huddle of first line players—before gently grabbing Stiles's face and forcing him to look at me. "This is Finstock we're talking about, Stiles. So what if he doesn't believe you're going out there. This is the same guy who thinks athlete's foot is God's way for rewarding team players and not an excusable medical condition."
Stiles snorted and ducked his head, nodding slightly into my hands. "Valid. Still unlikely though."
"You want me to ask Scott to accidentally break Jackson's arm?" I asked with a smirk. "I might be able to get him to do it if I ask nicely. Jackson in pain, you on the field. I think that's a win for everyone."
"Not in front of Gerard," he chuckled, finally lifting his head to meet my eye with a small smile. But the expression slowly slipped away as he thought his words over. He licked his lips nervously. "You really think we're gonna be able to pull this off?"
"Of course I do. I believe in you."
I smiled as I ran a thumb over his cheek, but he just stared at me for a few seconds. Before he could say anything, a whistle blew in the distance, making us both jump as the crowd roared for the start of the game.
"I better go find Mrs. McCall," I said, patting his cheek and taking a step back. "Keep an eye on your phone. I'll text you when we're a go. Good luck." I winked at him, then ran back through the crowd, looping my way around to the opposite side of the field.
It was normal for games to be crowded, but to have bleachers set up on both sides of the field, it was absolutely packed. Never the less, Mrs. McCall had managed to grab a front row seat, her coat and purse laid out next to her so I'd have a place to sit when I found her again. I grinned widely at the gesture, squeezing into the seat with hurried thanks as the whistle blew. The game was officially on.
I managed to cheer on the team even when Jackson walked to the center of the field. He was an asshole, and frankly a poor excuse for a human being, but he was good at lacrosse. I wasn't blinded enough to pretend that Beacon Hills didn't need him to get to the finals. So I clapped along with everyone else when he snatched up the ball. Whittemore pass to Heifer, Heifer pass to Peter and…
There was a chorus of groans and gasps from both sides of the field as Dylan Peter's body fell to the ground. Or really, it wasn't so much a fall as it was a collapse, even a plummet. He'd tried to weave around one of the players, but number 42 of the Winstone Beavers was apparently not one to back down. Or stumble. Or flinch in the slightest. Dylan bounced off him like a tennis ball and crumpled to the ground while the other player towered above him, still as stone.
His wall like qualities seemed to keep up for the rest of the game, allowing him to topple player after player out of his way. It was horrifying to watch, really. I was almost glad I had an elaborate theft planned to steal an old book from a murderous hunter so I didn't have to watch. As it was, I spent most of the game checking my phone and scanning the crowd opposite us until I spotted Allison and Gerard. I had to react along with the rest of the spectators and keep up mild conversation with Scott's mom, but my gaze kept flicking back to the Argents on the other side of the field. I got a few frantic texts from Stiles as well, each of which I had to return with a calm reassurance that I'd text him when Allison was clear. To be honest though, I was beginning to feel the nerves myself.
I immediately sat up straight when I saw Gerard stand up after one particularly harsh play. For a moment I was worried he was leaving, but then he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Allison's shoulders. She smiled at him, pulling it tight around her torso and perching herself back down on the bench. I caught her eye from across the way and immediately diverted my attention, but my grip on my phone tightened in anticipation.
A few seconds later, my phone went off and I pounced on the short message.
"Here!"
I nodded down at the singular word, inconspicuous enough that if Allison's parents checked the message, they wouldn't think anything of it. And if they did, Allison could simply say she was letting me know she was at the lacrosse game. I opened a new message to Stiles, letting him know that Allison had the keys and was ready to pass them off. He nodded at me from the bench, and I watched as he slid away and into his own position. I waited a moment, and then jumped to my feet, waving my arms over my head and jumping up and down.
"You alright there?" Mrs. McCall laughed from beside me, but I just grinned.
"Trying to get Allison's attention. She's over there with her grandpa."
On cue, she waved back to me, leaning over to say something to Gerard before pointing at me across the field. I stopped jumping but kept the smile on my face, waving a bit more politely at our principal. He smirked back at me, lifting a hand in a mock salute before turning his attention back to the carnage on the field.
It was quick, but it was enough. Stiles had quickly sped between the bleachers, snatching the keys from Allison's waiting hand in the moment of distraction. I watched as he twirled around, trying and failing to inconspicuously sneak away from the game. I had to smirk. He was terrible, and I loved every second of it.
I sat back down on the bleachers as another player was crushed to the ground. With the major part of my task complete, I was free to groan in disappointment and concern with the rest of the crowd as the paramedics swarmed the field. Number forty-two certainly seemed to be an unstoppable force, and I didn't see anyone being able to take him down except Scott. But I also knew that Scott was smart enough to not try to break out any of his super agility with Gerard around. That was annoying, of course, but I still got a small smirk out of it. Jackson had to be livid.
There was a smattering of supportive applause as the player was carried off the field, moaning about the lack of feeling in his legs. I shared a worried look with Mrs. McCall. The championship was looking a lot farther away at the moment.
I jumped a bit in my seat as a loud click went off in my ear. I spun around, face to face with the bright red of a Beacon Hills lacrosse jersey. My eyes flicked to the camera in his hands, then his face, and I almost did a double take. It was the boy who'd elbowed me at Kate's funeral. The boy who had very angrily glared at me and then shoved off without a proper apology.
Only now he wasn't glowering. He grinned, holding up a hand and chuckling a little. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He lifted the camera a little higher, as if I wouldn't have realized the source of the clicking noise without an explanation. "Enjoying the game?"
I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to give him any sort of concrete answer. If he thought I wouldn't remember our not-so-friendly interaction at Kate's funeral, he was very, sorely mistaken. First impressions can be a mistake sometimes, but I wasn't willing to let it go just yet.
Every second I didn't answer seemed to tell me that was a good idea. The boy fidgeted a bit, not quite sure how to receive without a response, until I caught that anger flare again. He kept it in check, only letting his frustration flash over his face for a second before he plastered that smile back on. Instead of waiting on me, he turned to Mrs. McCall.
"He belong to you?" he asked, lifting the camera to gesture toward the boy being carried away on the stretcher.
Mrs. McCall gave him a nervous smile, shaking her head. "No, mine is still on the field. While I'm here really wishing he would have stuck with tennis." The boy chuckled politely, lifting his camera to take another shot and inspecting the picture. "Are you the yearbook photographer?"
"No, I uh… I just take pictures."
"Just lacrosse, or other things?"
He smiled, glancing down at his camera again and tapping a few buttons. "Whatever catches my eye."
Mrs. McCall nodded a little awkwardly, clearly at a loss for how to reply to such a vague answer. She nudged me a little, wide eyes comically desperate as she smiled once more. "Um, introductions?"
"I don't know him," I said, shaking my head a bit. Then I pursed my lips, turning back to him with narrowed eyes. "I actually have no idea who you are."
It took a second for my sentence to register, he was so intent on analyzing the photo he'd taken. But eventually reality seemed to catch up with him again. He lifted his head with wide eyes. "Sorry, what?"
My eyes narrowed to annoyed slits as he hurriedly hung the camera around his neck. I knew I wasn't being polite, but something about him honestly just bothered me.
Mrs. McCall took it upon herself to lean around me, offering her hand. "Melissa McCall. I'm Scott's mom."
"Oh, uh, nice to meet you. Matt Daehler." He shook her hand with a grin, trying to smother his expectant glance my way.
I bit back a sigh, giving him a small nod. "Sadie Bennet."
And then he did something very strange. He flinched. It was as if I'd suddenly jumped up and made to smack him in the face. It was gone in a moment, replaced by grin again, but I was positive that it hadn't been my imagination.
"Right, right. You're friends with Allison Argent, right?" he asked. I cocked an eyebrow again, and he hurried to explain. "Uh, her locker is a couple down from mine. I see you talking a lot."
"That's funny. I haven't seen you."
I was granted with a small sense of pride as his jaw clenched, obviously not seeming too pleased with the response. I knew Mrs. McCall was probably sitting next to me confused and a little aghast, but thankfully I was saved from any sort of reprimand by the rest of the crowd.
Everyone jumped up with a cheer, screaming about Cyclones and scores and number thirty-seven. I glanced down at the end of the field, unsurprised to find Jackson being swarmed by his teammates. Apparently he'd managed to weave around the Beavers' giant and scored a goal. Well, that was something.
"Finally," Matt chuckled, snapping a picture of the happy players at the end of the field. "Thank God for Jackson Whittemore, right?"
I pursed my lips and crossed my arms over my chest. Yeah, that about settled it. I did not like Matt Daehler in the slightest.
My stomach lurched as my phone went off in my pocket. I scrambled to answer it, hoping for good news but expecting the worst. But the text from Stiles wasn't at either extreme. Not about Gerard, anyway.
"Lydia's crying in the parking lot. Needs you."
My heart sank, and I picked up my things without another thought. "Mrs. McCall, I actually have to run. Not sure if I'll be back, but thank you so, so much for driving me."
"Oh, not a problem. Is everything okay?"
"Um… I'm not sure. Lydia's in a bit of a rough spot right now and…well, she needs me more than Scott does."
She nodded, a small smile of understanding crossing her face. "Okay, well I hope she's alright. I'll tell Scott what happened."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll find out one way or another."
I smiled, waving goodbye and rushing off toward the parking lot. Moving was a lot easier now that the game was on, since most people were sitting down focused on the players, but it still took a little finagling to get to the parking lot. It was another matter entirely to actually find Lydia, seeing as the lot was literally overflowing with cars. I tried to retrace the general path that Stiles would have taken to get to the school, glancing back and forth for any sign of life. Eventually, I spotted a car with the lights on, and rushed over to the shiny new silver car Lydia's dad had gotten her after the attack. I'd gotten a card with my last name spelt wrong, but I guess that's beside the point.
I hiked my bag up on my shoulder, walking up to the passenger door and knocking lightly. I could hear her groan through the glass, and she shoved her face into the tissue in her hand. "I told him not to call you!"
"Well, technically he texted me, so…"
"Sadie, I'm fine. Just go back to your stupid semi-final lacrosse game."
"If it's so stupid, why'd you decide to come?"
Lydia didn't answer me. I heard her sniffle again, and she clutched her hand to her mouth as her chest began to shake again. She held out for a few moments, but eventually she gave into the tears, leaning forward to rest her head on the steering wheel as the tears rolled down her face once more.
I gently tried the handle, finding it was already open and hopping into the passenger seat. I dropped my bag on the floor, shutting the door behind me and immediately reaching over the seats to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Come on, you don't want to put your head there. You'll get a mark on your forehead."
She let me tug her to my chest as best I could at the awkward angle, and buried her head in my shoulder. I rested my head on top of hers, rubbing my hand up and down her arm. Normally I would have gone to grab one of her hands as well, but when I looked down I saw the hot pink gloves she was using to hide her bloody knuckles. I bit my lip, trying to push the memory down. I didn't want to call any attention to the painful memory when Lydia was already crying, so I settled for grabbing the package of tissues, holding them in my lap and offering them to her every time she needed a new one.
We sat there for a long time, listening to the sounds of the game in the background. We sat there as we heard the cheers from the end of the game, loud enough to assure us that Beacon Hills was going to the finals. We sat there as people started pouring out from the field, heading back to their cars and headed home for the night. We sat there until we were some of the last people left, the lights going off in the stadium and leaving Lydia's car the only sign of life around.
She finally pulled back, wiping at her face even though she hadn't actually been crying for quite a while. She took a deep breath and held her hands over her face. "God, I'm a wreck."
"Don't worry, you look a lot better than I usually do. Besides, if I remember correctly, you've walked in on me crying one or twice yourself."
She let out a small, watery breath of laughter, shaking her head. She looked over at me with teary eyes. "How are you doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Joking. Not crying. Being… Being okay after everything that's happened."
I wrapped my arms around my stomach, leaning back on the seat and staring out the windshield. "Trust me, I'm not okay either."
"Shut up."
I lifted my head in surprise, turning back to her with wide eyes. "What?"
"Just shut up!" She smacked her hands on the steering wheel. "I—I can't take this anymore. I can't take you pretending like your falling apart just to make me feel better about myself! You're not! Okay?! We were both attacked, and I seem to be the only one in this town who can't make sense of anything happening in my life! You're still going to school! You're still getting good grades! You're smiling and laughing and hanging out with people and sleeping okay! There hasn't been a single night since I got out of the hospital that I didn't have a nightmare, okay?! I—I have nightmares when I'm sleeping, I can't focus when I'm awake! I feel like I am literally unraveling and then I look at you and you're fine! You're absolutely fine, Sadie! How… How are you fine?"
The car subsided into silence. Lydia's gaze quickly dropped to her gloves, her fingers weaving in and out of each other anxiously. She winced every now and again, like the gloves were tugging at the skin of her knuckles and causing her pain. But she didn't stop. She didn't take the gloves off. She just kept fiddling with her hands, dealing with it, accepting it, and not bothering to try and stop it.
I watched her with my mouth hanging slightly open. I usually knew how to handle Lydia. She was different, but I understood her. I knew what I was supposed to do to help her feel better. But I know idea what to say to this. How was I supposed to help her feel better when she felt like she was losing herself and I was still on even ground? How was I supposed to help her see that I wasn't okay, that I was losing myself too, without giving her so much more to worry about that she just gave up? I couldn't tell her that I'd failed to save someone and had to listen to them die. I couldn't tell her that I was hearing Allison's dead aunt in my head telling me that I wasn't brave enough to shoot anyone. I couldn't tell her that I was constantly in a state of worry because Derek Hale was turning innocent teenagers into werewolves, or because there was a giant lizard killing people left and right, or because Allison's family wanted my friends dead, wanted her dead. I couldn't be responsible for giving her any more to worry about, especially when I didn't currently have Scott or Allison around to help me prove it. She might think I was joking again, or worse, making fun of her. But at the same time, I couldn't make sense of anything for her if I never told her. Would that be any better?
"I'm sorry," she sniffled, shaking her head. "That was…God, that was awful…"
"No, it's fine," I said immediately, sitting up and twisting in my seat so I could face her. "I think you needed to say it. It's really okay."
"I'm not mad you're okay, obviously. You're… You're my best friend and I want you to be happy, I just… I want to be happy too…"
"I know. I do too." I stared down at my hands in deliberation for a moment before I reached out, gently taking one of her hands in mine and forcing her to stop playing with her hands—to stop hurting herself. "I think…one of the only reasons I'm…well, I'm definitely not as okay as you think I am, but…the only reason I'm coping is because I know I have my friends to back me up. I have you. I have Scott, Allison, Stiles. And they're all willing to listen to me and tell me it's gonna be okay. Even when I don't want to talk about it." Lydia rolled her eyes at my pointed look, but I didn't let go of her hand. "I know it's hard, Lyd. Especially if you feel like what you're thinking doesn't make any sense. But I promise you that I am not going anywhere. I don't care what it sounds like. If you need to get something off your chest, then I want to listen to you. I want to help you. And so does everyone else."
Lydia gave a short laugh. "Yeah, Stiles looked super willing to listen to me when he was sprinting away from my car calling for backup."
"Well that's Stiles. I think he was more afraid of saying something wrong and making you feel worse. He's a complete idiot, but he means well."
She pulled her hand back, holding it to her head as she sighed. "I'm sorry that I totally ruined your date."
"What? Lydia, you didn't…"
"Yes, I did. You brought me for back up and the only thing I did was bring everything to an early finish cause I…" She trailed off, holding her hands over her face and shaking her head. I waited almost a full minute for her to go on, but she didn't. She just sat in the driver's seat, staring at the dashboard in the gaps between her fingers.
"Lydia. Why did you scream?"
Her hands shook as she pulled them away from her face, turning to look at me with big, fearful eyes once more. Her bottom lip trembled, unsure whether it was meant to form words or hide itself between her teeth to stop her from crying. But finally she managed to choke it out. "I saw him. The… The man who bit me." My face must have showed the immediate alarm that I felt because she jumped forward, waving her hands and shaking her head. "I—I know! I know you told the police that you fainted, and I know that you said you didn't see anything. I know you—you had those claw marks on your shoulder and I know those couldn't come from a person, I just… Every time I think back to that night… I don't see a cougar. I just see this—this guy with black hair, and he's coming toward me and his…his teeth just…! And his eyes…!"
"Lydia! Lydia, breathe!"
I grabbed her shoulders, cupping a hand under her chin and forcing her to look at me as she started to hyperventilate. She nodded shakily, forcing the breaths in and out of her chest and grabbing my wrists for all she was worth, on the point of leaving bruises behind. But her breathing began to slow, and finally she sighed, letting me go and clutching at her chest.
I let her sit like that for a while, taking one of her hands and letting her readjust to reality. But the subject was too important to leave alone. Lydia was already half-way to the right conclusion if someone was willing to help her. All this time, and she hadn't once mentioned to me that she'd actually seen Peter. She'd seen a man with glowing red eyes and long pointed teeth. She'd seen him fully transformed and crashing through the window of the video store. And she was still seeing him now that he was dead. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it couldn't be good. Then again, I was hearing dead people too, right?
"Can you remember…?"
"No," she said forcefully, clearly not wanting to discuss it anymore. "That's all I remember before I woke up in the hospital with you… I… I get flashes sometimes, but I can't tell what I'm remembering and what I'm…imagining to fill in the blanks. You screaming, Jackson…" She stopped again, letting her eyes flicker to the field before falling back in her lap.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, wishing I could say something more constructive. But even if I spun some bullshit about how Jackson could come around and they were better together, we would both know I was lying. Lydia knew exactly how I felt about Jackson, just with less detail.
"Me too," she muttered. She propped her elbow on the car door, resting her head in her hand. "I just… It's not even that I want him back… Okay, it's not just that I want him back," she amended when she saw my unimpressed look. "I just hate seeing him walk around without me like—like he doesn't care. And I can't even come to a lacrosse game anymore because I know he's going to be on the field, and every time I see him I just feel sick. Which is clearly not a problem he's having. I mean, am I…? I've just never felt so…"
"No."
Lydia's head snapped over to me. "I didn't say anything yet."
"I know. But I know that whatever word was about to come out was not nearly as positive as any word worthy to describe you. So you're not gonna say anything, okay?" Lydia rolled her eyes and sniffled, but the corner of her lips pulled up. I smiled. "Listen, you are my best friend. And you know how I feel about Jackson. But honest to God, this whole thing aside, I know him. And I know that he is not nearly as over you as he is pretending to be. Why he's doing it is just as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. He's a stupid, stupid boy, making stupid, stupid choices that only make sense to his stupid, stupid self. But if I know one thing in this world, it is that Lydia Martin leaves a lasting impression, and there is no way anyone on this planet—nay, in this universe—could ever, ever forget you."
"God you're such a dork," she groaned, swatting at me with one hand so I might miss her wiping her eyes with the other.
"Fortunately for me, you keep choosing to hang out with me anyway."
Lydia laughed, and I chuckled along with her for a few seconds. For now the storm had passed. We were at least a little okay. But her next words made my stomach drop.
"I just feel like there's something going on. Like something's happening that everyone just forgot to tell me about," she said quietly, hesitantly turning toward me. "If I… If I asked you a question, would you tell me the tru—…?"
Before she could get that last, fateful word out, my phone went off in my pocket blaring my ringtone through the small car. I jumped, actually letting out a small yelp as I fumbled with the phone. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," I rambled, catching Lydia's look of disappointment and annoyance. "Let me just—Hey, Stiles, I'm—…"
"Sadie! In the pool!"
"Wait, what?"
"Lizard! Help!"
My eyes flashed wide open as I made out a cough and a splash on the other end of the line before it went silent. "What?! Stiles?! Stiles!"
"Sadie? What happened?" Lydia asked, her voice about an octave higher than it had been a few seconds ago.
I could feel my insides twisting into knots as I fought off the panic. Breathe. Keep calm, level head. Save Stiles. Don't worry Lydia.
"God he's a fucking idiot," I grumbled, shoving my phone back in my pocket and fumbling with my purse. "Thinks it's so fun to give me a heart attack. Ha ha , it's so funny. I'm gonna kill him."
"What did he do?"
"He's probably hiding somewhere waiting to jump out at me when I finally get fed up of looking for him. Look, I'm just gonna get a ride home with him. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"
"A-Are you sure? Cause I can…"
"I'm fine! Just get home and take a few deep breaths okay? I'll see you later!"
Before she could say anything else, I jumped out of the car, making for the doors to the school as fast as I could without making Lydia concerned enough to run after me. But the moment I hit the hallway I was sprinting, skidding on the floor as I twisted and turned and jumped my way down to the pool. I had no idea that Stiles was even still here, let alone in the pool. I'd been so worried about Lydia that I hadn't bothered to check whether or not Stiles had sent me an all clear message after he grabbed the bestiary. But obviously, everything was not all clear.
Even though my feeling in my gut told me that I had to get there as soon as possible, I forced myself to slow down as I got closer to the pool. If the lizard was anything like a werewolf, it would be able to hear me coming. The last thing I needed was for it to knock me off my feet two nights in a row. Another hit like last night and I probably wouldn't be able to stop Stiles from checking me into a hospital again. And I was very much done with hospitals.
I pushed a deep breath in and out of my lungs, sliding my hand quietly into my purse and pulling out my gun. I couldn't let this thing go. It had killed an innocent man in front of me, and then it had tried to kill Stiles. I had stopped it for the moment, but now it seemed to be back to finish the job. I wasn't going to let it kill my friends. I wasn't going to let it kill anyone. I had to shoot it.
"Atta girl."
I squeezed my eyes shut, burying the voice under all the other thoughts in my head. I could do it. I was going to do it. I had to do it.
I kicked my shoes off in the hallway, leaving them against the wall with my purse. I needed to be fast and quiet, and they would only slow me down. Then I pushed the door open and crept inside. I tried to close the door quietly, but I knew it was no use. If the thing had any sort of heightened hearing, it would know I was coming, especially since every sound in the room seemed to be amplified twenty times over from the echoing walls. I just needed to hope that it was focused on the sloshing water, the gasping breaths I knew had to belong to Stiles, trapped in the pool.
The sound immediately firmed my resolve. I tightened my grip on the gun. Stiles's life was at stake here, and I was not going to let him die.
I rounded the corner of the seating, twisting my head back and forth, but there wasn't a scale in sight. There was something that caught my attention though. Spluttering in the pool, frantically treading water, was Stiles. Only Stiles wasn't as alone as I'd expected him to be. He was struggling to keep another body above the surface, limp and drenched and dressed in black. It only took a second before I realized who it was.
"Derek?"
The water sloshed around as Stiles fought to turn them in my direction. He let out a heavy gasp, something I assumed was supposed to be a struggled sound of relief. But Derek's eyes widened. "You called Sadie?!" he roared, and if he could have I was sure he would have been strangling the life out of Stiles. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
"That we need help!"
"Sadie, get out of here."
"What?" I asked incredulously, glaring at him. "No! I'm not leaving you here!"
"Sadie! Get out now!"
"No! I can help!"
"Sadie!"
"Derek, I'm not going—…"
"No! Behind you!"
I spun around, arm leveling on instinct and letting a bullet loose without a second thought. The tile on the opposite wall exploded, shattering to the ground. But I barely heard the sound over the almighty screech that followed it. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes dropped, locking onto the slitted, yellow eyes that were staring at me from the floor.
"Are you fucking kidding me? The thing crawls on all fours, you dumb bitch! Why the fuck are you shooting at eye level?!"
"Stop," I muttered, lowering the barrel and leveling it with the creature's face. It hissed at me, creeping forward with its claws clicking on the tile. I tried and failed to stand my ground, instinctively shuffling back but keeping the gun as level as I could manage. It hissed again and my hands trembled.
"God, you are unbelievable, you know that? What is it going to take for you to pull the trigger? Hm? You can't do it for a stranger. You can't do it to save your friends. You can't do it to save yourself. You can't do it at all because you are completely useless. You are so afraid of taking a life that you're gonna let a thousand bodies pile up so long as you can still say it wasn't you."
"Stop."
The creature hissed again and I pulled the trigger, smashing one of the floor tiles at its side. But it barely flinched, drawing its lips back to bare its long fangs. I was almost positive Stiles and Derek were yelling at me, but even though the sound was loud and crystal clear, I could barely hear it.
"Oh, no, hold on a second," Kate's voice chuckled from inside my head. I tried to bury it, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my teeth, but it resolutely pushed its way to the surface. "I know what it is. You're afraid you're gonna like it. You're afraid you're gonna pull that trigger and get that rush of adrenaline you love so much. You're afraid you're gonna kill that thing and you're gonna love it. You think you're gonna be me."
My hands trembled as the gun went off once more, this time hitting the floor on the other side of the lizard. It scrambled to the side, spitting and flicking its tail.
"Come on, Sadie. Pull the trigger. Shoot the fucker in the head and save your friends. It'll feel so good, being the hero. And who knows? Maybe this will be a lesson for you. Today you shoot the lizard, tomorrow you take out the pack."
"STOP!"
I clenched my eyes shut, screwing my face up in desperation as my entire body froze up. Except my finger.
Bang! Crash!
Bang! Crash!
Bang! Screech!
The lizard writhed in front of me, screaming in pain and anger as its tail thrashed back and forth, flecking the floor with blood. But there wasn't any time or cause for celebration, because the creature was making it very clear that I had done nothing but piss it the fuck off. It glared at me, a fire in its eyes as it opened its mouth in an earsplitting roar.
"Sadie!"
"Jump!"
I didn't need to be told twice. I threw the gun to the side and leapt over the ledge into the pool. It was so strange, to hear so much one moment and nothing the next. The screeching, the yelling all disappeared as I sank under the water. My body relaxed, somehow calmed by the steady sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. It meant I was still alive.
Part of me wanted to stay at the bottom of the pool forever. There were no deadly creatures down here. No watching people I loved struggle with their lives. No enemies. No voices in my head. Just my heartbeat, and the easy chill of the water against my skin.
But the calm only lasted a moment. I could make out the splashing, the sounds from the surface as Stiles kicked furiously in an attempt to keep both him and Derek afloat. I couldn't stay down here. Not when they needed me up there.
Remorse quickly ebbing away, I swam back to the surface, gasping for air the moment I could get it. I coughed a bit, blinking the chlorine out of my eyes, and precisely kicking my legs to stay above water. I spun around, spotting the creature hissing at me from the edge of the pool and instinctively paddling back.
"Oh, thank God," Stiles spluttered as I swam up to him. Without pausing to think about it, I clenched my arms around him, too happy to see him alive and breathing to give a thought for the consequences.
"Now?! Are you fucking kidding?!" Derek half-screamed, half-gurgled as all three of us sunk a few inches deeper into the water.
I pushed back, latching onto Derek's free arm and pulling him back to the surface. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm here. Hi."
"Yeah, that was so helpful. Thanks," he spat, coughing the water out of his throat.
"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Stiles panted, narrowing his eyes at his charge.
Derek balked. "I am fucking drowning! I am paralyzed in eight feet of water and two horny teenagers are going to let me fucking drown!"
"Calm down, it's not that deep," I sighed, ignoring the pointed look Derek gave me and twisting to glance over my shoulder at the creature. It had sunk closer to the wall, but was now pacing around the room, circling us until it found a moment to strike. "Why isn't it coming after us?"
"It won't go in the water," Stiles said, following my gaze and shaking his head. "I don't think it can swim." I looked over at him, finally noticing how labored his breathing was. His kicks were sporadic, and he was barely keeping himself above water as it was.
"How long have you been in here?"
"Pretty much since I left. Someone decided to have me kidnapped…"
"Wait, you did what?" I asked, squinting down at Derek in confusion, but all he did was huff.
"Oh yeah! Our well-planned, well-executed mission got crashed because Erica showed up to drag me here. Literally drag, in case you were wondering. I'm gonna have bruises for a week."
"Hold on, Erica? Well what happened? Where is she now?"
"Knocked out," he grumbled, jerking his head toward the opposite wall.
I followed his gaze, spotting the crumpled body and tousled mane of blonde on the floor in the corner. I worried for a moment, but even at this distance her chest was visibly rising and falling. The creature hissed at her as it passed, but didn't pay her any more attention. For the moment, it seemed she was safe, regardless of how impractical those huge, sparkly heels had turned out to be.
"Why would you kidnap Stiles?" I asked, scrunching up my nose at Derek.
Again, it wasn't him who answered. "Oh, just so he could threaten me, as usual. So he could question me about what happened last night."
"Seriously, Derek? Why didn't you just call me?"
He glared at me, bristling and refusing to answer until Stiles let his face slip underwater for a moment. "Stop! I didn't want to push you! You hit your head! You shouldn't even be here!"
I pursed my lips, both touched and annoyed by his concern. "So you decided to kidnap Stiles? Really?"
"You got enough information yet, buddy?" Stiles grumbled, glaring at the lizard as it passed us once more.
Derek went to reply, but all he got out was bubbles as both he and Stiles slipped underwater again. I yanked on Derek's torso for all I was worth, managing to bring them back to the surface once more.
"Stop doing that!" Derek screamed, and I had to reach over to mop his hair out of his face.
"I'm not doing it on purpose!" Stiles yelled back. "I—I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."
"Of course not," I sighed. "Have you been holding him like this the whole time?" The boys shared a look of confusion before silently staring at me, obviously not aware there could be any better way to handle the matter. I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Derek, take a deep breath."
"Oh no, no, no! You are not dropping me again! Enough!"
"Shut up, of course I'm not. I'm trying to make this easier. Just trust me."
Derek glared at me for a few seconds, clearly not comfortable with the idea of trusting anyone. But then he grudgingly took a deep breath, and I dived down beneath him. I grabbed him by his ankles, kicking back above water and leveling his body on the surface. Stiles and I shifted around him so he could keep his legs up while I took the bulk of his weight hooking my arms under his and resting his head on my shoulder.
"Okay, just keep breathing, okay? If you keep air in your chest it should make it a little easier for you to stay up."
"Thanks for using your fucking brain," he grumbled, making Stiles's jaw drop.
"Hey!"
"Yeah, you got it," I replied, unable to keep the small, nervous smirk off my face. "How you feeling? I mean, is it wearing off or…?"
"Starting to," he grunted, twitching his leg forcefully into Stiles's shoulder as proof.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
"Being an idiot!"
I rolled my eyes, letting Derek's face dip under the water for a fraction of a second and ignoring his spluttering protests. "Play nice."
"Are you serious?! Sadie, I'm drowning!"
"Yeah, you've been saying that for like an hour," Stiles spat. "And you're still not dead. So obviously you're not drowning."
"No thanks to you."
"No—…? I'm sorry, who was it who was treading his ass off holding your stupid werewolf head above water, huh?!"
"Dropping me to the bottom of the pool without warning for two minutes so you can call your girlfriend does not count as above water!"
"Um, excuse me, girlfriend who is currently holding you, asshole," I grumbled, but neither of them seemed to pay me any attention.
"Oh yeah?! Well how about I drop you again, huh? Let's see how long your werewolf superhealing helps you stay alive underwater, huh?"
"A hell of a lot longer than you'd last."
"E-Excuse me?!" he spluttered, sending a hurried look my way. "I would last just fine!"
"Oh my God. Both of you, stop it."
"He started it!" they yelled in unison.
"I cannot believe I'm saying this right now. I don't care who started it! I'm ending it! Both of you conserve your energy and shut up. It doesn't look like we're leaving any time soon." Stiles opened his mouth to say something but I glared at him, and after a few moments of particularly angry treading, he shut his mouth once more.
We stayed silent for a decent amount of time. It was hard to keep track, especially with most of our attention focused on trying to keep out heads above water and conserving our energy. Changing position had helped, but it wasn't enough. Derek, tall, hulking mass of brooding werewolf that he was, was extremely heavy, and I hadn't been holding him for half as long as Stiles had. He was gaining his feeling back slowly, though it still took too much effort for him to move to even think about climbing out. He was rapidly getting even angrier, and I was rapidly getting tired. But Stiles was well past his limits on both of those fronts. He kept his jaw locked, concentrating on his breathing and minimizing his kicks. Even the few breaks he took from holding Derek to float didn't seem to help. He was fading fast, and there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop it.
The lizard seemed to be able to sense that we'd reached our breaking point. It started circling the pool even faster, eyes locked on us as it swept around the pool, flicking its tail and screeching in anticipation. It had all the time in the world. But we were running out.
"I—I can't stay up any longer! I—I—I need something to hold onto," Stiles spluttered as his head sunk under the surface for what felt like the hundredth time since I'd arrived. He thrashed a little in the water, but it was feeble at best.
I could feel my heart sinking. Either we took our chances with the giant lizard at the edge of the room, or we were going to drown. I wasn't willing to watch Stiles die just yet.
"Do you think you can make it to the diving boards?"
Stiles glanced over and nodded weakly. I hoisted Derek up a little higher and took a deep breath, then began kicking toward the edge of the pool. It was slow progress, and absolutely exhausting. I let Stiles pull ahead, trying to keep Derek between us as he reached desperately for the diving board.
"Stiles," I called in a warning voice. "It's coming."
The creature had noticed our travel from the side, but didn't seem to be in much of a rush. We were essentially trapped, and it knew it as well as we did. It just crept along the edge, keeping even with us with its eyes locked on its prey.
I heard Stiles sputter, heard him fumbling with the diving board as the creature sped up. I went to call again, but before I could, there was a splash. Derek's body sank, threatening to pull me with him, and I frantically looked down. Stiles was sinking, still grabbing hold of Derek's leg but not with enough energy to paddle his way to the surface.
"No, no, no! No! Stiles!" I kicked as hard as I could, but even lifting Derek a few inches wasn't enough to get Stiles back to the top. "No! Help! Stiles! Stil—ahhh!"
I screamed as a set of claws grabbed at my shoulders, ripping me up and out of the water before I could think to fight back. I just screamed, holding onto Derek for all that I was worth and tugging him out of the water with me. Another shriek echoed through the room and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the fangs to sink into my flesh, for the pain to go shooting through my body, or to lose control completely as it paralyzed me. But nothing happened. Instead, another sound rang through the pool, bouncing off the walls and making the floor shake—a deep, ferocious roar.
I lifted my head, spotting the blue of Scott's sweatshirt just before he was knocked to the side, sent flying by a mass of blurred scales. It took a second for my brain to catch up with the reality around me. The lizard was attacking Scott. Scott had been the one pulling me out of the water. I had been floundering in the water because—…
I immediately sprang into a sitting position, ignoring the way the world tilted swirled around me as I shoved the stiff, heavy body off my legs. I pushed myself onto my knees, kneeling over Derek in concern.
"Derek?! Derek! Are you—…?"
"Fine," he grunted, rolling his head to try and keep an eye on Scott while he coaxed his body into motion. "Go!"
I spun on my knees, twisting back and forth until I spotted the red tracksuit and leapt forward. "Stiles! Stiles, are you okay?! Stiles?!" I leaned over him, grabbing his face and letting my hands graze over his chest. But he was limp and motionless.
Water seeped into my eyes, but I was too frantic to notice whether they were tears or pool water rolling down from my hair. I yelled his name a few more times, holding his head and willing those maple eyes to flutter open. I choked back a sob, shaking out my hands and trying to force myself to focus. Finally I managed to lace my fingers together, lining them up and forcing them down onto his chest. I clenched my teeth in determination, one and two and three and four and...
But thankfully, it was only a few seconds before his body spasmed back into motion. His chest jolted up and his eyes flew open, coughing violently to get the water out of his throat. A strangled noise of panic and relief forced its way out of my throat as I gripped the fabric of his sweatshirt to help him on his side. He grabbed for my hands in search for some kind of anchor, and I let him grip my wrists tightly, over the marks where Lydia had done the same in the car.
I frantically looked up, checking to make sure that Scott and the lizard were still fighting a safe distance away before turning back to him. He was panting, air coming more easily to him now, but I couldn't seem to release my hold on his chest. "A-Are you okay? Stiles? Are you—…?"
"Did you just do CPR?" he wheezed.
"Wha…? Um, just the chest compressions. You woke up. You're okay."
"Damnit," he sighed, letting his head fall back to rest against the tile. "Should've stayed unconscious longer."
I wanted to glare at him. I wanted to smack him for making such a stupid joke while we were still essentially trapped in the school with two werewolves and a homicidal lizard. Instead my face pulled into teary smile, and I collapsed forward, burying my face in his chest and digging my fingers into the fabric of his sweatshirt, as if I could hold him there and nothing bad would happen to us ever again.
We both jumped as a particularly loud screech echoed over the pool, and my head snapped up just in time to watch as the lizard scaled the wall and burst through the glass ceiling. Shards twisted and fell in the air, splashing into the pool and then leaving us in complete silence.
Scott collapsed onto his knees, and Derek pushed himself up on the end of the diving board. Now that he was out of the water, the feeling seemed to be returning to his limbs pretty quickly, though his legs weren't cooperating enough to let him stand. He settled for propping himself up on the diving board, watching Scott in concern. "Scott?"
"I'm fine." Scott tossed aside the shard of mirror he'd been holding in his hand and pushed himself back onto his feet. He hurried forward to help Derek up, the hair on his cheeks receding with every step, fangs sinking back into his gums. And by the time he reached us, he was back to normal. He dropped to his knees as Derek slowly made his way towards Erica's body, looking between Stiles and I with worry. "Are you alright?"
"Peachy," Stiles scoffed, pushing himself up into a setting position. "And very glad we got the swimming unit done freshman year so that I'm not obligated to come into this room ever again."
Scott laughed weakly, pulling his best friend to his feet and letting him wrap an arm around his shoulders. "What happened?"
"Well, we didn't find the bestiary, so we thought we'd have a pool party instead. Pretty crazy."
"Derek was trying to find out what happened with the mechanic," I said while Scott rolled his eyes. "He and Erica brought Stiles here…"
"Dragged me here, forcefully and painfully."
"…and the thing showed up. Derek got paralyzed, and then Stiles called me because they were trapped in the pool. Obviously I wasn't able to help all that much."
"At least you tried," Stiles grumbled bitterly.
I watched as the shadow of guilt sunk over Scott's face, and Stiles pulled his arm back so he could stand on his own. It suddenly occurred to me that Stiles probably wouldn't have made me his first call, but for one reason or another, Scott must not have answered.
"What were you up to?" I asked, wringing my hair out and sweeping it over my shoulder.
"Um, getting the bestiary." He held up a set of keys, which I assumed must have been Gerard's, flashing a silver thumb drive at us with a hopeful grin. "We won the game and Gerard very forcefully invited me over for dinner. So it was kind of go or die."
"Or go and die," I snorted. "How'd her parents take it?"
"Not well," he sighed. "More death threats, but I'm starting to think it's always gonna be like that."
"You're having sex with their daughter," Stiles shot with a smirk. "There'd be death threats whether you were a werewolf or not."
I smacked him on the shoulder, but Scott chuckled and flushed slightly. I rolled my eyes. Boys.
I shoved Stiles into Scott and padded away, walking around the pool to the place where I'd discarded my gun before jumping ship on my rescue plan. It was still lying at the foot of the wall, untouched and thankfully uncoated with clear, paralysis-inducing slime. I pursed my lips as my fingers ran across the metal. At least I'd managed to fire it today. That was progress, right?
"I've got it."
I looked up quickly, surprised by Derek's appearance looming over me. I opened and closed my mouth once or twice in confusion, but then followed his gaze to the floor. Evidently in my daze it'd looked like I was assessing the damage of the tiles I'd shattered on the floor, and the specks of blood the creature had left behind. It was a valid concern, to be honest. A broken ceiling would be easy enough to dismiss, as would the broken mirror. But bullets and blood generally warranted some sort of investigation.
"Are you sure?" I asked, running a hand through my hair and clicking the safety back on the gun.
"Yeah. Get out of here."
My eyes trailed past him to see Erica walking over, still slightly dazed but regaining her senses quickly. It was the first time I'd seen her since I'd discovered she'd come onto Stiles, assaulted him, and then thrown him in a dumpster. Of course Derek wanted me out of here. We'd just fought a giant lizard. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a catfight.
I patted him on the arm as I passed, and resisted the almost overwhelming urge to knock Erica over by accidentally bumping into her with my shoulder. But that did not stop us from trying to incinerate each other with glares. Apparently the boys found this very amusing, since both of them were doing very terrible jobs at hiding their smirks when I rejoined them. I rolled my eyes, shoving them towards the doors. "Come on. Let's get a look at this nifty book."
The book was, in fact, pretty nifty. We plugged the flash drive into Scott's laptop when we finally got back to the car, resting it on the hood and opening the scans. There were plenty of gorgeous pictures, hand painted and detailed, that looked like they could probably be dated back to medieval times. I was left to marvel at just how old Allison's family was, how long they'd been doing this, just how screwed we were if they ever found out we'd looked at this. The only problem was, of course, that none of us were familiar with how to read words from medieval France.
"Is that even a language?" Stiles groaned, staring at the intricate calligraphy with an overwhelming amount of annoyance.
"Of course it is," I sighed. "Just not one any of us can read."
"How are we supposed to figure out what this thing is?" Scott asked.
I let the cursor hover over one of the paintings and shrugged. "Cross your fingers and hope that Allison's ancestors were really accurate artists."
"It's called a kanima."
All three of us froze, turning with varying degrees of shock and anger to look at Derek. He walked slowly, almost solemn now that he had his conclusion, with Erica in tow.
"You knew the whole time," Stiles snapped, but Derek shook his head.
"No. Only when it was confused by its reflection."
My eyebrows knitted together, lost for a moment until I remembered the large shard of mirror Scott had been wielding as a weapon before the lizard…the kanima had bailed. It must have caught a glimpse of its own scaly face in the glass and been scared off.
"It doesn't know what it is," Scott concluded.
"Or who."
"Well what else do you know?" Stiles demanded.
Derek glared at him, obviously not appreciating the immense amount of sass Stiles was sending his way. He grit his teeth. "Just stories. Rumors."
"But it's like us?" Scott asked.
"A shapeshifter, yes, but it's—it's not right. It's a…"
"An abomination," Stiles finished quietly.
Derek gave a small nod, and there were several seconds of silence. So something had corrupted the kanima's transformation. For one reason or another, it wasn't able to transform into its wolf form, or even the mutated wolf-bear that had been Peter's favored form. Instead, it was reptilian, and none of us seemed to know why. But the reason wasn't important at the moment. Whether it was born that way and had come to Beacon Hills, whether it was created here, why it had scales instead of fur. What it all boiled down to was that that it was a they, a person just like Scott or Derek or Isaac or Boyd or Erica. And they were killing people. Obviously they had to be stopped. But how?
"Derek!" Scott called, stopping him from turning away. "We need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents."
"You trust them?!"
"Nobody trusts anyone! That's the problem! While we're here arguing about who's on what side, there's something scarier, stronger, and faster than any of us, and it's killing people! And we still don't even know anything about it!"
"I know one thing," Derek growled. He turned on his heel, beckoning Erica with a flick of his hand and storming away. "When I find it, I'm gonna kill it."
The three of us stood in silence for a minute, watching as Derek and Erica climbed into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. We were left in the dark, in the dead silence, with nothing more constructive than a name for the thing that had just tried to kill us. We'd barely moved forward on the space that was still square one.
"There's got to be something that can stop it," Scott said desperately, turning back to the laptop and scrolling through a few more pages. "There has to be something, a weakness we can use. Something that's not murder."
"Maybe there is, but I don't think we have time to find it," Stiles sighed, his hands on his hips. "Even if the word 'kanima' is still written the same way, you'd have to scan every word of that book to find it. It's hand written scans, there's no search option. And there are literally hundreds and hundreds of pages. And that's all before you sit back and remember than none of us know how to read whatever the hell language this stupid thing it written in."
"I have an idea."
Scott and Stiles both turned to look at me in surprise. "W-Well? Are you going to share with the class or…?"
"Lydia."
"What about her?" Scott asked, shaking his head slightly.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, knowing what was coming. But I had to try. "Look, I don't know what language they were using to write in medieval France, or if this is even written in the traditional language of medieval France. I do know that Lydia is the smartest person that I know, and that she reads Latin, and I think that she's the best chance we've got."
Stiles shared a dubious look with Scott and licked his lips nervously. "What are you gonna say? 'Hey Lydie, you know how people have been dropping like flies? We're trying to figure out what kind of creature is doing it, so can you look at these hundred of pages of maybe-Latin on medieval mythical creatures? Thanks.' She'll never buy it."
"First of all, I'm her best friend. She's obligated to just roll her eyes and do it anyway. And anyway, she…she knows more than you think…"
The boys blinked at me, expressions distorted with confusion and alarm. Scott raised his eyebrows urgently. "What…? What do you mean?"
"I…I was talking to her before. About the attack. She saw Peter."
"W-What?!"
"What do you mean she saw Peter?" Stiles asked frantically. "Like—Like she saw him inside at the party, like she saw him when he was talking to you on the field...?"
"No, I mean like she saw him with his eyes flashing and his fangs growing out of his skull right before he bit her. She's been having nightmares ever since. It's…It's tearing her apart."
I watched as their alarm softened for a moment. I knew Lydia would hate me for talking about her like that, showing how weak she was. But I knew this would be better in the long run. I couldn't go on watching her like that. I needed my best friend back, and I was going to do whatever it took to get her back.
"Guys, I… I don't want to stand by while she's struggling like this. I can't. She can't make sense of anything, even though it's all sitting right in front of her. She is the only one who doesn't know, and she knows that she doesn't know. She knows she's being lied to, and I think that if we just told her, she could really help. She could stop freaking out and doubting herself and thinking that she's crazy when she's not!"
"Of course she's not crazy," Scott sighed. "We know that."
"Well she doesn't, Scott. She's got no idea that she's not crazy. Someone needs to tell her! I need to tell her!"
"Sadie, we can't," Stiles sighed, and I immediately rounded on him.
"Why?! Why can't we tell her, Stiles?! She got attacked at the video store too! She saw Peter coming at her with claws, red eyes, and fangs and the only reason she doubts herself is because I had to tell the police that I thought I saw a cougar before I passed out! She knows way—way more than I did when you told me! So why can't I tell her?!"
"You're different," he offered feebly. There was a millisecond where his face flashed with an expression of horrified regret, the ultimate "I-should-not-have-said-that" look, just before I stormed forward to jab my finger into his chest.
"So is Lydia! Lydia is different! Lydia was bit by and Alpha, and she's not a werewolf and she's not dying! She is something very, very different! And she deserves to know that about herself! Okay?! She is smart, she is capable, and I know—I know that she will want to help once we tell her and she can finally understand…!"
"Sadie, we don't have time!" Scott burst. I stopped in my tracks, glaring at him with my chest heaving until he sighed. He stepped forward, taking me gently by the shoulders and forcing me to look at him. "I know she's your best friend. She's my friend too. Well, I think. I—I don't want to see her struggle, and I don't want to see her get hurt. I promised you I wouldn't let her get hurt." My eyes sank to the ground, remembering the promise that he'd made me when Lydia was still in the hospital.
"But what if telling her protects her?" I asked feebly. "I mean, right now she doesn't know the risks she's taking. What if she's unprepared, and she goes out and…"
"You already said she isn't going out," he interrupted. "And I know that's kind of…awful. But right now she's at home, with you. And that's the safest place for her. I know you want to tell her, and this thing being on the loose and killing people is scary. It's terrifying. But that's why we need you. We need all the help we can get. I know, you think she'll help," he said quickly, cutting me off before I could get the words out to protest. "I'd like to think so too. But we don't know how long it's gonna take her to accept that. To come to terms with the supernatural and the fact that there are werewolves. That we've all been lying to her. And then you're going to have to explain things and help her and take care of her. And you should. But you can't do it right now. Now we're the ones who need your help. We need to stop the kanima. And then I promise I will help you tell Lydia everything. Okay?"
I pursed my lips and closed my eyes. For a few moments, I was able to maintain my resolution of refusing him an answer. Lydia was my best friend. I wanted to tell her the truth. No, it was not okay. But then Scott squeezed my arms gently, and I could practically feel the sorrow and the guilt and the desperation seeping off him. And I broke.
I gave a small nod, and could hear both Stiles and Scott let out a small breath of relief. My eyes fluttered open to scan Scott's face, pulled into a small, regretful smile. "Come on. I'll drive you guys home."
I might have agreed for the moment, but I was determined to make it well known that I was not happy about the decision I was being forced to make. I didn't talk at all on the drive back to my house. Thankfully, the boys didn't bother trying. I was comforted at least by enjoying the extremely awkward silence in the car. Neither of them knew what to say, what they could say to change the situation. So they didn't say anything at all, not even in an attempt to distract me. And in some twisted, sadistic way, that made me feel a little better.
I did say goodbye to both of them before climbing out of the car, thanking Scott for the lift and promising I'd talk to them both tomorrow. I'd planned to just go inside and sneak to my room as fast as possible—because I did not want to explain to my mother why my clothes had gotten soaked at the lacrosse game—but I paused when I heard another car door close behind me.
"Hi," Stiles said awkwardly, wringing his hands in front of him.
I cocked an eyebrow, wandering back a step or two to face him. "Yeah. Hi."
"So, I should be getting the Jeep back this weekend. Spic and span and in perfect working order. I was just wondering if uh…if you'd like to go out to celebrate."
"Wow, the Jeep's triumphant return. Sounds like a party."
"Actually, it's pretty exclusive. I was thinking just you and me. If, uh…if that's okay." He smirked, as if it was supposed to distract me from the way his cheeks were tinged pink. It didn't work of course, at least not entirely, but it made my stomach twist just the same.
"Yeah. That actually sounds very okay."
"Okay! Good, um…okay!" He chuckled for a moment, pleased to have gotten out the question and received an answer with much less hassle than it'd taken us last time. We were both still blushing, but it was progress. But the grin slowly faded from his face, and after a few seconds he remained staring at me with a hollow, nervous look.
"Stiles? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. You haven't told me yet."
"I think I made my thoughts about Lydia pretty…"
"No, it's not just that. I don't know what it is but…I know it's not just Lydia."
I bit my lip, dropping my eyes to the pavement and frantically searching for a better reason. I was about to make an excuse about being stressed and tired and bolt for it, but Stiles stepped forward and grabbed my hands, effectively freezing me in place.
"Look, I saw you back at the pool. I saw how you froze up when that thing attacked you. It's the same thing that happened at the mechanics, and I don't know what that means. But I want you to know that…I really don't care." I looked up at him in confusion, and he winced. "Sorry. I mean, obviously I care. I care about you, I just… I'm not…good at picking up on shit like Scott is. I'm good at some things, but comforting isn't really on the top of that list. So, I don't know what it is that's bothering you, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say to make it better. But I know you're gonna beat it. And I wanna help. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but… I'm here, and I know that you're gonna get through this. Because I know you, and…Sadie Bennet can do anything."
I really hoped that I hadn't dried off too well from the pool. I had to bite my lip hard, but I could still feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, and I knew I was gonna have a pretty hard time passing them off as pool water.
Sure enough, Stiles blanched, his jaw dropping open in horror. "Oh my God, I'm—Shit, I'm sorry. Should I—Should I just punch myself? Did I say the wrong thing or…?"
"No, no," I assured him, pulling a hand back to wipe at my face. "No that was…that was very much the right thing. Thanks."
He nodded awkwardly, and I rolled my eyes with a smile, wrapping my arms around his torso and pulling him into a tight hug. I buried my face in his sweatshirt enjoying the feeling of his arms squeezing around my waist, the smell of curly fries and cologne corrupted by chlorine. No, but it wasn't corrupted. Stiles smelled like that because he had jumped into a pool to save Derek's life. He'd treaded water for hours to keep him alive. It enhanced him.
"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked quietly, one of his hands smoothing out the hair hanging down my back.
I took a deep breath and leaned back, nodding softly. "Yeah. I think so."
"Good. Now get inside before I start to thinking about the plus side of your wet, white shirt."
"Perv," I shot, but he simply smirked and shrugged. I kissed his cheek and backed away, watching as he climbed back into the passenger seat of Scott's car. They stayed at the end of the driveway until I got up to the front door. I gave them one last wave, and then ducked inside.
I had to be very careful on the stairs, trying with all my power not to make a sound or draw any attention to myself. I knew it was late. Way later than it should have been. Most of the lights were off, so I guessed my mother was in bed. But that could always not be true. And I didn't need to be thinking about something else only to find out that she wasn't asleep and she'd found me sneaking…
"Sadie?"
I stopped dead in my tracks, wincing and raising my head slowly. Lydia was standing in front of me, already dressed in a silky set of pajamas and a very suspicious expression. Her eyes darted over my soaked clothes, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Uh…hi, Lydia…there is a very good explanation for this…um…"
"Just please tell me it wasn't shower sex."
"What?!" I squeaked, snapping upright and shaking my head. "What?! No! No, I didn't…!"
"Then I don't care. Go to sleep, Sadie." Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched toward the bathroom, tugging at the bandages wrapped around her knuckles.
I sighed in relief, darting into my room before she could change her mind about wanting an explanation. I tried not to think too much as I changed my clothes and climbed into bed, avoiding thoughts about what Lydia would say when I finally got around to telling her the truth, if she would be able to handle it. But part of me knew that Scott was right. I had to think about the bigger picture. People were dying, and that had much more extreme, immediate consequences than Lydia not sleeping well at night. I promised myself that I would tell her. But until then, I'd just have to continue doing my best to protect her.
"Protecting her, right. You're doing a bang up job at that, babe. You can't even fire a gun anymore."
I glared up at the ceiling, focusing on my breathing and trying to force the voice to the back of my mind.
"I don't think so, Sadie. How long are you gonna run from this? You can't escape me."
That didn't mean I didn't try, of course. I laid in bed for what felt like hours, but must have only been minutes, Kate's voice chipping away at the corners of my brain, making my stomach churn with insecurities and regret. She was right. I couldn't escape. I had to stop running from it. But that didn't mean that I had to give in to what Kate wanted me to be.
Making a snap decision, I jumped out of bed and marched across the room, headed straight for my purse on my desk. I stared at it for a moment, willing myself to take a deep breath before plunging my hand inside. I batted away all my usual items—my wallet, my pens, my gun—forcing my fingers straight to the bottom. It took a minute of searching, but I finally found it, and a shiver went down my spine. I pulled my hand back, holding the little key up to the light.
"Small but, I think Kate would have wanted you to have it."
I'll bet she would have.
I sped back to my bed, picking up my phone and dialing the only number I could think of. I paced while it rang, waiting for the predictably annoyed and gravely voice to pick up on the other end.
"What do you want, Sadie?" Derek asked, not bothering with the traditional convention of saying "hello" or asking how I was.
"I need you to do me a favor. Can you come pick me up? There's something I need to do."
Fifteen minutes later, I was sneaking out of the house once more, creeping down the street and climbing into the black Camaro that was waiting for me at the corner. Derek made me explain everything on the way, just as I promised I would. I told him everything—everything that had happened since the funeral. Everything I'd been feeling. Everything I'd been hearing.
Derek was outraged, of course. Why wouldn't I tell someone? Why hadn't I said something sooner? How often had it been happening? What had she said to me? Why hadn't I told him when we'd come to the abandoned train lot? Why hadn't I told him at all? How could I be so stupid? Why would I ever think anything like that? Hadn't he told me I had nothing to worry about? Wasn't that enough? Why couldn't I just forgive myself and get back to normal?
All it really took was one sharp comment about Derek's own guilt complex before he dropped that request immediately. He was definitely not one to be preaching about self-forgiveness, especially since we were both being haunted by the ghost of Kate, and the things she'd made us think. That's why Derek had been my first call. If anyone knew what to do, how to help me, it would be him.
Derek threw the car into an abrupt park, making both of us jerk forward in our seats a bit. There were several seconds of silence as we looked around. It was already dark out, and the lot behind the hair salon was completely empty. Not that I expected to see any cars in the first place. I'd never seen a single one here.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Derek asked. It was one of those rare times his voice was almost soft. It wasn't a sarcastic jab, but genuine concern. A silent reassurance that I shouldn't push myself too hard and too fast if I wasn't sure if I was ready.
The fact was that I wasn't sure at all. But the world wasn't going to wait on pause for me to get my shit together.
"Yeah. Let's go."
I hoped out of the car, gripping my purse tightly and headed for the creepiest door in the wall. I weighed the key in my hand for a moment, bracing myself before I slid it into the lock and turned the handle. I flicked on the light switch just inside the door, and didn't let myself pause for a moment before I headed down the steps. I heard Derek close the door behind me, but I just kept walking. I knew exactly where I was going. It felt almost natural, which felt almost scary.
I paused in front of the door, waiting until I could feel Derek's presence behind me before I flicked on the lights and stepped inside. The fluorescent bulbs came to life with an annoying hum, lighting the shooting range up lane by lane. Everything looked exactly the same. The benches, the gun locker, the goggles. But I shouldn't have been surprised really. In reality, it had only been a few weeks since I'd been here. But what with everything that had happened, it felt like a lifetime.
"Ah, and the creature of habit returns to her natural habitat. See, this is where you belong, Sadie. And you even brought Derek! I think he would make for some great target practice, don't you? His whole face just screams 'I'm not having fun, please put me out of my were-misery.'"
The grate on the gun locker creaked as I opened it, the lock easily discarded with Kate's master key. I hummed a little to drone out her voice as I carefully selected a firearm and some ammo. Then I walked back to the lanes, sending Derek a weak smile as I tossed him a set of protective gear.
"Okay," he sighed, following me up to the barrier. "Just try and focus. I've seen you shoot. You know what to do. You just have to remember that you do."
"Wow, I forgot how great he was with words. I thought that was a tad unconvincing though. Of course you know how to shoot, Sadie. But so long as you can still hear me, you're not gonna hit a damn thing. Because you're a coward."
I shook my head, planting my feet on the ground and raising my arms. I pulled the trigger three times, but each bullet ripped through paper almost a foot from my target. My heart sank. Useless.
"You're not committing," Derek said firmly. "Keep your arms strong, stop closing your eyes. Focus on the target. If you think you're going to miss it, you will."
"Words of wisdom, Derek. Words of wisdom. Of course, it's utter crap, but…"
I forced my eyes to stay open this time and grit my teeth as I stared down my target. Three pulls on the trigger, three bullets through paper, but none of them were decent shots.
I snarled at the target, nearly growling as I prepped myself for another go, but Derek stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder.
"You need to stop."
"Derek, I don't have time to stop. If the kanima comes at us again…"
"No. You need to stop and think. You need to stop thinking about her and start thinking about people who actually matter."
"Ouch. That hurt like a whiny, werewolf bitch."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about the people you're trying to protect, what they think of you. Those are the thoughts that matter. They need you, and that's why you're gonna hit that target. Go again." He gave me a stern look, nodding at the lane and crossing his arms over his chest once more.
I sighed, turning back to the barrier and letting my eyes flutter shut. I took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly and counting in my head.
"Oh come on, you don't believe this shit, right?"
"Stop talking, Kate. I'm thinking."
I bit my lip, gripping the gun as I took Derek's advice. Who were my friends? Who was I protecting? Who needed me?
Lydia.
"You're my best friend and I want you to be happy."
Allison.
"I'm gonna be right there with you."
Derek.
"I've seen what Kate can do, and trust me, you're not her."
Scott.
"You're not her. And I'm going to do literally everything I can to make sure it stays that way."
Stiles.
"Because I know you, and Sadie Bennet can do anything."
I raised the gun once more, shifting my grip around it and taking another deep breath. I could almost hear Kate's protests from the back of my skull, but I just kept repeating the names in my head, the important ones, the people I needed to protect.
Lydia.
Allison.
Derek.
Scott.
Stiles.
I pulled the trigger again and again, keeping my form still and my eyes locked on the target. I let the gunshots drown out her voice. She wasn't important. She was gone. I had people who needed me, who loved me and believed in me. They believed I was good, and so I had to be good. For them, I could be.
I pushed the headset down to hang around my neck, my hands quaking slightly as I looked down the land at the bullet-strewn target. Derek clapped a hand on my shoulder, and I let a small smile tug at my lips.
Bulls-eye.
A/N: Boom! Slam dunk that, Kate! So there was lots of plot in this. Hopefully it wasn't too heavy. But don't worry. There is a lot of fluff coming up and I'm hoping you guys will really enjoy it!
Thank you all so much for reading and favoriting and following! And thank you for all the beautiful reviews I got from emele807, Sierra R, hinataonicha (I start my job on Friday! Happy fourth of July to me, haha! Thank you for asking!), RHatch89, Daenerys86, lose-your-mind, Jesse, Red Constance, JenRiley16, KennedyRaye, FizzWizz2011, Manon, ShapedLikeStars, Valkerie101, prettyargents, xJenzaFreakx, Janedoee7, SilverAdvenger12, Poppies and Cornflowers, and chaotic eutaxies! They always make me smile.
Also, special thanks to IrisstoneHPfan! You DID write me a novel and I loved every word! I'm so sorry for you confliction, but I hope you continue to enjoy the story, my love!
And welcome to all of the new readers who emerge with the resurgence of Teen Wolf on television! I wish you all the best of luck tonight!
Thank you again! I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say!
-Brittney