The next morning, I expected to feel guilty about putting off my explanation of the supernatural for Lydia. What with the hunters gearing up for war, the three baby werewolves strutting around town with orders from Derek, Jackson on the lose and in denial, and half the people willing and able to help him forced to remain fifty feet away from him at all times, life wasn't exactly safe. But I truly believed that Lydia and I both needed that one night pretending everything was alright, like it was back to normal. It didn't change the awful situation we were in, but in a way it was a reminder of what we were fighting for. Even if the world was full of supernatural threats, we could have a semi-normal life. We just had to keep going.

Fortunately, I didn't have any time to feel bad for not telling Lydia earlier. Our girls' night sleepover had kept us up way later than we should have been on a school night, and we both ended up sleeping through our alarms. We weren't even Lydia-late, which basically means being late enough that you don't have time to get coffee but you're not worried about getting to school on time. We were properly run-to-your-locker-and-slide-into-your-seat-as-the-bell-rings late.

Unfortunately, that meant that I didn't have any time to talk to Stiles and Scott before class, to get the full story on the restraining orders that had been issued against them. I had no idea how much Jackson had told everyone, or what the boys might have said as any poor attempt at explanation. But the faster we got our story straight, the better off we'd be. With the surveillance cameras, nowhere was safe anymore. We could be interrogated by the police, or worse—the Argents, at any time with no warning. If we didn't have a matching story, we were toast.

The one good thing that came out of being late was that I didn't have to explain to Stiles, Scott and Allison that I'd promised to tell Lydia about the supernatural. I was sure that was going to lead to a fight and a half, and that wouldn't have been a good thing for the hunters to have on camera. But I didn't care if my friends didn't agree with me. Lydia needed to know what was going on, because not knowing was destroying her before my eyes. I refused to let it go on just because no one else could see it.

I texted the boys good morning and a brief apology, and got the short story of the restraining order between classes. There hadn't been too much to say, apparently. They'd shown up to the station ready to explain the situation to Sheriff Stilinski, and found Jackson and his father waiting for them. Jackson had already explained how the boys had jumped him the previous night, and he'd woken up in the prison transport van in the middle of the forest. Stiles and Scott had kept him there all day, laughing and bumming around outside while they talked about him. He had no idea why they'd done it, and he didn't care. He just wanted a restraining order so the freaks couldn't do it again.

Needless to say, the sheriff wasn't pleased. The best defense the boys could come up with was that it had been a practical joke. It was a practical joke that broke several laws, but at that point no one felt confident enough in Mr. Stilinski's patience to even attempt taking him into the other room and showing him how Scott could transform into a werewolf.

They didn't know how Jackson was planning to explain his escape, since it was highly unlikely that a normal teenage boy would be able to escape professional-grade handcuffs, but it didn't really matter. With Mr. Whittemore as his attorney, Jackson couldn't be stopped, and the sheriff was willing to consent to the restraining order just to keep from a lawsuit. Stiles and Scott had both been grounded for an eternity, but that was unavoidable. At least, Scott pointed out, they weren't paying Jackson loads of money for trying to protect him.

There was also another bright side to the situation, at least the way the boys saw it. Allison and I had not been brought into the conversation once. Jackson had to have known we were there—I'd spoken to him, and if he could hear half as well as he said he could, he'd known Allison was there too. But somehow, our presence seemed to have slipped his mind when he'd been filing a report with the sheriff. Or it'd be very clearly on his mind.

Stiles and Scott weren't too bothered by it, were actually happy. If Allison and I weren't in trouble with the law, that was less risks we'd have to take and less trouble we were dealing with. Neither of us were grounded, Allison didn't have to explain to her family why she'd helped kidnap Jackson with her friends and the ex-boyfriend she wasn't meant to be seeing, and I didn't have to explain to Lydia why I'd been talking to her ex-boyfriend while he was in captivity. Yet.

But I felt a lot less easy about it. Sure, I was glad that I didn't have something like that going down on a permanent record with the police, and I was super happy I didn't have to explain to my mother why I'd broken the law so vigorously. But I wasn't quite ready to see the lack-of-punishment as a blessing. Regardless of whatever heart-to-some-semblance-of-a-heart we'd had, I didn't trust Jackson. At the moment, I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I didn't have to wait all that long. I walked into my math class with my head high—a precautionary measure I'd learned to take so I didn't have to look at Erica. She was always either sneering at me or snarling at me, and I hated giving her the satisfaction of a reaction, even to gloat about how Allison had beaten her at Scott's house. I realized that it was much more effective to not give her any attention at all. That was one of the things she'd tried to fix with the bite, wasn't it?

But in my effort to overlook Erica, I'd also overlooked another fairly large detail. I sat down in my usual seat only to find that the desk in front of me, usually unoccupied until the last second as the poor girl who's previous class was on the other side of the building rushed in, already had an occupant. A very smug occupant with a crisp gray button down and annoyingly strong cheekbones.

"Hey," Jackson said with a nod, turning halfway around in his desk to look at me.

I actually looked behind me. I looked to the right, to the desk where Danny usually sat. I looked behind Jackson to the seat that Erica usually occupied, but she hadn't even gotten there yet. I looked all around the classroom looking for some explanation for…whatever was currently happening…

"Excuse me?"

Jackson repressed a snort, raising an eyebrow at me. "I said 'hey.' It's a sort of greeting? Something you say to people when you start talking to them?"

"Why the fuck are you talking to me?"

"Um, we're in the same class?"

I rolled my eyes, leaning forward to hiss at him. "That doesn't mean jack shit and you know it. We never talk, and we're both perfectly happy with it."

"You were talking to me yesterday," he said, barely hiding a smirk. "And I thought we'd already established that you still sort of care about me. The whole working to save my life thing?"

"I'm sorry, you think that makes us friends?" I asked incredulously. "No. Jackson, I already told you, I don't give a shit about you. I'm keeping you alive because Lydia…"

"And I already told you I know you're lying," Jackson said. He gave me a stern but amused look, like a parent explaining to their four year old how they know they didn't brush their teeth. It might have been funny if it wasn't so goddamn patronizing. "Look, I know I've done a lot of shitty things, and you don't want to admit you still give a shit. That's fine. But as long as you still do, I figure there's no point putting so much effort into hating each other. We've got enough shit to worry about."

For a moment, I actually lost the ability to speak. I couldn't feel any air passing in an out of my lungs, and my mind seemed to have come to a screeching halt. "I-I'm sorry, 'we'?"

"Yeah," he replied in an isn't-that-obvious tone. "Running from the hunters, Derek's pack, figuring out what's going on with me…"

"Jackson we know what's going on with you," I snapped. "You're so emotionally fucked up that you couldn't become a werewolf. You're a kanima, and you're killing people. We tried telling you that, and instead of listening, you started handing out restraining orders."

"Don't be so dramatic. I want Stilinski and McCall away from me because they're weirdos who kidnapped me. So long as there's no more handcuffs involved, I'm nice enough to keep you and Allison out of it."

"Nice?"

The word felt like venom in my throat, burning the tissue it passed over as it crawled out into the air. But Jackson just shrugged with a small smile. The worst part was, it didn't even look like a sneer. It was genuine, if reluctant. He genuinely thought that sparing me from a restraining order when I'd been trying to help him, just because there was some part of me that cared about the person he used to be, was an act of kindness. Criminalizing Scott and Stiles, my closest friends, and leaving me out of it was actually something he thought I was supposed to be thankful for. And it made me sick.

I was about to go into a tirade, one that probably would have led to broken school property as a result of the rage swelling in my chest, when a flash of blonde caught my eye. Erica was finally striding into the room, determined glare set on her face. She didn't look as annoyed as I'd expected her to be, what with Allison paralyzing her over the weekend, but it didn't really matter. Her presence was enough.

I grabbed Jackson's shoulders and forced him to sit forward, digging my nails into his shoulder when he tried to turn back around. My head was down before Erica could notice anything was different, and I burrowed in my purse to pull out my phone.

"Keep your mouth shut around Erica. If she notices that anything is different, your name is gonna go right back to the top of Derek's hit list."

Jackson slumped in his seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. I could almost sense the smugness in the way he typed back, and had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from lunging at him and punching him in the face again.

"Knew you still cared enough to protect me."

I took a slow, deep breath and glanced at the clock. Yeah. I probably had enough time to type out a mini lecture.

"Jackson, let me make one thing clear. You're part human, and I don't want human death on my conscience. Does part of me wish that I could still be friends with you? Yes. Life was so much easier when I was friends with you because I didn't know about any of this supernatural shit. But the longer I'm around you, the more I'm glad we're not friends. Not filing a restraining order against me when you throw my friends under the bus is not 'nice.' Don't pretend like you did it for old time's sake or because you actually give a shit. It's just you leaving another option open so you can get what you want, cause you're smart enough to know that you don't have a clue what's going on with you. You're not nice. You're manipulative, selfish, and deluded. And the sooner you figure that out, the sooner you'll stop fucking everything up."

Part of me regretted pressing send. It was a harsh thing to say, but I didn't have the patience or energy to deal with Jackson at the moment. My fury about the way he'd treated Scott and Stiles after he'd been explained the situation outweighed any pity I had for him at the moment. And it was true. The sooner Jackson could come to terms with whatever made him the cold-blooded person he was, the faster he could stop being a kanima, and our problems would be solved.

Well, we'd still have to deal with Jackson as a werewolf. But at least that sounded like a more manageable problem.

It'd taken me enough time to lecture Jackson that class was already starting by the time he finished reading the message. I could tell that it wasn't the reaction he'd wanted or expected—his shoulders were stiff and I could see his knuckles going white as he gripped the desk angrily—but he didn't turn around to look at me. He didn't text me back and didn't attempt to say a word. When math was over, he stormed out of the classroom without looking back.

I would have preferred saying all of it to Jackson's face. Texting it made me feel anxious, seeing all of it typed out in front of me. But I couldn't have said anything out loud without putting him in more danger. Erica would have heard. Boyd or Isaac could have heard. The security cameras might have picked something up, and the Argents would be suspicious I was talking to someone they probably knew I hated. There was so much surveillance at every turn, it was impossible to have a normal life. I talked to my friends a bit, but it was all superficial things like homework and lacrosse and weather. They were fake conversations, fake smiles we had to put up over our anxiety so no one knew how anxious we were. And to be frank, it was exhausting.

I went through a lot of the day on autopilot. The only times I even felt real were fleeting moments. Scott might give me a bracing smile. Allison might laugh at a teacher's corny joke. Lydia might roll her eyes at a stupid question asked by another student. Stiles might make a funny face at me in the middle of lecture, or hold my hand in the hallway. The rest of the time, we were anxiously waiting for a moment we could talk freely. Even Lydia was a little on edge, staying strong with the promise I'd try and explain everything to her after school. Everyone was living in this suspended state of panic, and it was only the little things that got me through the day.

We finally found a few minutes to address everything towards the end of the day. I walked with Allison to the library, talking about the history test we'd had earlier that week and what questions we might have gotten wrong. We took turns glancing down the aisles of books, neither of us wanting to look too anxious when their was a camera pointed at our back. Then Allison gently pushed me down a row, following me behind the cover of the books and glancing nervously over her shoulder.

"Good afternoon, ladies," a familiar voice whispered, and I grinned at the row of math textbooks in front of my face.

I pushed them aside to reveal Stiles and Scott on the other side of the shelf. "You're such a dweeb."

"Hey, watch it. I'm your dweeb," Stiles said, brandishing a finger at me through the books.

Allison rolled her eyes, but her grin quickly faded as she looked around the room again. She reached into her bag, pulling out her tablet and pushing it over the shelf to the boys. "It's everything Lydia can translate. And trust me, she was very confused."

"Yeah, what'd you tell her?" Scott asked. He slid his fingers over the screen, enlarging the text and narrowing his eyes as they flicked over the worrisome words.

Allison snickered and leaned her shoulder against the bookshelf so she was facing me instead of them. "Sadie told her that we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

She and Scott both laughed, but Stiles simply blinked. "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

Allison raised her eyebrows, glancing between Stiles's earnest face, Scott's nodding, and my amused I-told-you-so look. "O-oh. Great."

"Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling him?" Scott asked, looking back to the tablet.

"Not at all," I sighed. I grabbed one of the textbooks of the shelf, weighing it in my hands to give me something to do. "Just a lot of very unnerving crap about how he gets controlled."

"But Stiles was right about the murderers," Allison added, making Stiles do a small fist pump on the other side of the shelf. "It calls the kanima a weapon of vengeance. There's this story in there about this South American priest who uses the kanima to execute murderers in his village…"

"Alright, see?" Stiles offered. "So maybe it's not all that bad."

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed anyone he wanted it to."

"All bad. All very, very bad."

"Okay, so we can't figure out who the master is," I said, lowering my voice as someone walked past the end of our aisle. "But there might be another way to stop him. The bestiary says that the kanima is actually a mutation. It's supposed to be a werewolf, but it can't…"

"Until it resolves that in its past that manifests it," Scott recited, sliding his finger along with the words on the screen.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Okay, if that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could have told you that myself."

"I don't think it's just because he's a dick though," I sighed. "I mean, how much of a dick was Peter? And he still managed to turn into a normal werewolf."

"Sadie, he looked like a bear that had fallen into radioactive sewage. That's hardly normal."

I gave Stiles a pointed look. "He was still a werewolf."

"What if…?" Allison paused, her eyes shifting back and forth as the wheels turned in her head. "What if it has something to do with his parents? His real parents?"

I held my breath for a moment, but the fact that Jackson was adopted didn't seem to be news to anyone.

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?" Scott asked.

"Lydia might," Stiles offered, and I scoffed.

"Of course she does. It's Lydia. The trick's going to be getting her to tell us."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked. "You're her best friend. She'll tell you anything, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course. Let me just dish out the nitty-gritty details of my ex-boyfriend's adoption to my friend I know hates him and is already lying to me about the day-to-day activities of her life."

Stiles scrunched up his nose and nodded. "Okay. Fair point."

"There's gotta be something you can do," Scott said, his voice tinged with desperation.

I looked between the three of them. Everyone was desperate for help from Lydia, but no one seemed to be jumping at the chance to help her. I sighed. Now was probably as good a time as ever…

"There might be something, but you're not gonna like it."

"Of course we're not," Stiles sighed, letting his head loll back. "I don't think we're allowed to like anything these days."

I put the textbook I was holding back on the shelf, choosing to ignore him. "I promised Lydia that if she still wanted to know what was going on, we would tell her today."

"What?!" Scott said loudly. Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, making him hiss and lower his voice. "Sadie, what—Why would you do that?"

"Because it's tearing her apart, Scott. You guys can ignore it cause you don't have to see it, and that's fine. I get it. But she's hardly even Lydia anymore. And it's becoming increasingly obvious that we need her on our side. She can translate the bestiary, she's got information on Jackson, and she's clearly going through something supernatural that none of us know how to identify. I know that we're not exactly in an ideal situation right now, but we can't keep asking her for things when we refuse to tell her what's going on. She's not gonna keep helping us without an explanation. She deserves to know, and she's not gonna give in. Neither am I."

No one wanted to meet my eye after that. They knew that, as inconvenient as it was, I was right. We couldn't keep using Lydia forever and refusing to let her in on the secret. And she'd proven herself to be innocent and useful more than once. It was about time we told her what was happening.

"I'm not shifting at school," Scott said firmly.

"I'm not asking you to," I replied. "Just promise me that we can tell her after school. If I have someone else to tell her that she's getting an explanation, I might be able to talk her into helping us. Please."

It was quiet for a while as I stared pleadingly at Scott. Maybe we'd been hanging out long enough that I'd picked up some tricks from his puppy eyes, but it was only a few seconds before he sighed. He glanced at Allison, who nodded softly. Then he turned to Stiles, who shrugged.

"She's right, man."

"Okay. Okay, tell her we'll explain after school. But we need to know about Jackson as soon as possible. You have to try and talk her into telling you now."

"Okay," I said, nodding firmly. "I'll talk to her."

"What if she doesn't give in, though?" Stiles pointed out. "Shouldn't we try and talk to Jackson?"

"Also a good point," Scott sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm not doing it," I said before anyone could ask. "Whenever someone says 'we' should talk to Jackson, it's me, and I've had enough of him for a lifetime. I'm not going near him."

Scott turned to me with his puppy eyes, but thankfully Allison shut him down. "No, you take Lydia. He doesn't have a restraining order against me either, so I'll talk to him."

"Okay, what do I do?" Scott asked, making her smile.

"You have a make-up exam, remember?"

Scott groaned and let his head fall to his chest. There was another moment where he looked to Stiles and I to back him up, but all he got were resolute nods. As shitty as life was, we were still teenagers. Battling homicidal lizards and hunters didn't mean we didn't have to balance with school. And Scott had been struggling for a while now.

Allison slid her hand across a lower shelf, taking Scott's hand and squeezing it gently. "Promise me."

Scott nodded reluctantly. "But if he does anything, you run the other way."

"I can take care of myself," she whispered, holding her head high. But her confidence didn't seem to reach Scott the way she'd intended it to.

"Allison, if you get hurt while I'm busy with some stupid test, someone's going to need to take care of me. If he does anything…"

"Like?"

"Anything—weird, bizzare…anything…"

Stiles pushed him aside, sticking his head right through the shelf until his face had joined Allison and I in the other aisle. "Anything evil!"

I had to bite back a giggle, but Allison just glared at him and shoved him back through the shelf. He winced and gave her a reproachful look, but she was already moving the books on the shelf back into place. "I'll talk to you guys later." She gave me a small smile and turned on her heel, walking back the way we came and disappearing into the hall.

I exited my row in the opposite direction, meeting Stiles and Scott at the back of the library. Stiles was still rubbing his neck, and Scott remained nervous despite his girlfriend's confidence.

"Scott, she'll be fine," I assured him. "We're in school, and she'll be smart about it. Jackson won't be able to pull anything."

"I hope not," he said softly, shaking his head. "I—What make-up test do I even have?"

"Chemistry, dude," Stiles replied. "You're about two bad grades from failing. You better get to the Satan-lair."

"Will you stop saying that?" I pleaded. "You don't need a detention on top of a restraining order."

"Harsh, but true."

"Look, just talk to Lydia," Scott said, looking between us. "If we can talk to her after school, we will. But Jackson comes first. I'll see you later."

"Good luck on your test!" Stiles called as he walked away.

"Remember! Neutralization means an acid and a base combine to make salt and water!"

Scott waved us off and headed for Harris's classroom, leaving Stiles and I to snicker in the back of the library.

"You think he'll pass?" he asked linking his arm with mine and tugging me towards the hall.

"Not really, but hopefully he'll surprise us. For all the studying we say we do while we're running around, we don't actually have that many study dates."

"You know, you're right. We should fix that. Though I was thinking more along the lines of just you and me instead of you, me and Scott."

I elbowed him in the side with a grin. "Must you make everything about you? We're talking about how Scott will literally get held back if we don't help him get his grade up."

"Great. Scott has his needs, and I have mine."

My cheeks burned as I tried to stop smiling, both at his attitude and the way Stiles himself was blushing at his words. He was still unused to being forward, but it was nice to watch him try.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you could stand to have a higher chemistry grade too, Mr. Stilinski."

He groaned, throwing his head back. "Fine, then come over and we'll do both kinds of studying. But we—we should do that soon. Ish. Maybe."

"Lydia first," I said firmly, but my lips were still pulled into a smirk.

He nodded with a grin. "Lydia first."

It was a little difficult to figure out how we were going to convince Lydia when we all still had classes. Stiles and I stuck together as best as we could, and ran around trying to catch Lydia in the hall. The first few times, we missed her—just ducking into a classroom, walking too close to Isaac or Erica. We didn't want them to know we were planning on letting Lydia in on the supernatural scoop. The more innocent she seemed, the less of a threat she was, and the less likely it was that someone would make another attempt to hurt her. Also, we could let them know that we were asking around about Jackson without raising their suspicions. As usual, school was posing to be a huge obstacle in our goal to save lives.

Finally, Stiles and I managed to catch her without a werewolf or kanima in sight. I dashed up to her before we could lose her, nearly slamming her locker shut as I skidded to a halt next to her. "Hey, Lyd! What's up?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "No one will tell me, remember?"

"But we're going to," I assured her. "I promised you yesterday, and I don't plan on going back on it. You deserve to know."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, Sadie, and I appreciate it. But no one else seems to care whether or not I'm clued in so…"

"Of course we do," Stiles chimed in, swooping into my side. "And she's right. You're right. You—You should probably know what's going on."

"Seriously?" Lydia asked. Her eyes flicked skeptically between us, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're seriously going to tell me?"

"Yes. I am Stiles Stilinski, and I swear to you that Sadie and I are going to tell you the truth."

"Great. Let's hear it."

Stiles and I looked at each other, and then back to Lydia's expectant face.

"It's not exactly something we can tell you in school," I said weakly. "But—But I promise. We both promise that all of us are going to get together and tell you after school. Me, Stiles, Allison, Scott. All of us."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Then I'll see you all after school." She turned on her heel and began to walk away, and Stiles and I had to scramble to keep up with her.

"Wait!" he said quickly. "That's—We—We actually had something else to ask you!"

"Oh of course," she replied, not even pausing in her stride. "More weird favors you need from me while you keep me in the dark? What do you need now, a broomstick? Unicorn blood? The sword of Gryffindor?"

"Okay, it's not a Harry Potter RPG," Stiles huffed, and I swatted him aside.

"Lydia, we just told you, we're done keeping you in the dark."

"Then tell me what's been going on."

"I—We will! After school!"

"Then I will help you with whatever you need help with after you tell me, after school."

"We need to know about Jackson's parents!" Stiles blurted.

I glared at him, ready to punch him for talking so loudly, but it did make Lydia stop. She turned around slowly, squinting at us in suspicion. "I'm sorry?"

"We need to know about Jackson's parents," Stiles repeated, keeping his voice down this time. "His real parents."

"What does Jackson have to do with any of this?"

"A lot more than he'd care to admit," I said bitterly. "Lydia, I promise that we will explain, but the longer this waits, the more trouble he could be in. We need to know."

She watched me carefully for a few seconds, glancing at Stiles a few times before she pursed her lips. "I can't tell you."

"W-What?" Stiles spluttered. "What do you mean you can't tell us?!"

"Oh I'm sorry, is that annoying?" she asked with a pout. "Does it bother you when people won't tell you things? I can't imagine how frustrated you must be. I'm so sorry."

"Lydia, please," I groaned. "We are going to tell you, but we need Scott…"

"I get it, whatever. You've made promises not to tell me about certain things without other people's consent. Well, so have I. I'm not supposed to tell anyone." She stormed away again, with the two of us hot on her heels.

"Come on," Stiles pleaded. "Anyone who ever says 'I'm not supposed to tell anyone' is always dying to tell someone. So tell me!" Lydia threw him a look over her shoulder and he threw his arms up in the air. "Okay, yes, you don't like me. But tell Sadie, at least."

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, turning her head more toward me.

I bit my lip. "It's…We're trying to protect people."

"Yeah, I got that, Wonder Woman. How is knowing what happened to Jackson's parents going to help you save people?"

"I…can't tell you that…yet!"

She huffed, picking up the pace of her stride. "Then I'm not telling you."

"But you are telling us that you could tell us something if you wanted to tell us?"

Lydia scrunched up her nose at Stiles. "Was that a question?"

"It—It felt like a question…I think…"

"Well, tell me if this feels like an answer. No."

She sped up again, weaving between crowds of people in an effort to make it more difficult for us to keep up with her. It was a very effective plan, but Stiles and I were determined. We didn't really have a choice not to be. So despite all our sighs and groans of frustration, we pushed on, chasing Lydia through hallway after hallway of people and pestering her with questions despite the inevitable "no" that was her response.

"Lydia!" I whined, ducking under the railing on the staircase so I could dart up the opposite side in an attempt to keep up with her.

But she was already disappearing as we reached the landing, waving a hand over her head as a dismissal. I actually stomped a bit, watching her go in frustration. I hoped Allison was doing a lot better than we were. At this point, Jackson might actually have been more agreeable than Lydia.

"Lydia, come on!" Stiles called. "Ly—wait! Ow! Ah!"

For the second time that day, a flash of blonde distracted me from my thoughts. Erica seemed to materialize in front of me, shoving Stiles from my side and smashing him into the wall next to the stairs.

"Hey—Hey, Erica," he said shakily, cowering into the bricks as she leaned much too close to his face.

"Hey!" I stormed forward, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her back, but she easily swatted me off. I made a grab for her hair, but her free hand snatched my wrist out of the air, squeezing hard enough to bruise. I tried my best not to wince. "Get off him!"

"Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson's real parents?" she asked quietly, leaning closer yet to Stiles's face.

He glanced at the hand she had around my wrist, and down to the one she had on his chest. "Why are you bringing out the claws on camera, huh?"

Erica backed up an inch, turning around to stare reproachfully at the surveillance camera mounted on the wall behind her. The claws were gone in an instant, and she dropped her hands back to her sides. She was violent and a bit overly-confident since the bite, but she wasn't stupid enough to hurt either of us with the hunter-principal watching her every move.

Stiles rolled his shoulders and stood up proudly. "Yeah, that's right. You wanna play Catwoman? I'll be your Batman."

He pushed past her to walk away, missing the raised eyebrows and smirk that was on her face. He was so pleased with himself that he missed her expression. But I didn't.

"You know what? No."

Before she could blink, I'd shoved Erica back into the wall. She laughed in surprise, even when I'd pinned her arms to the bricks behind her. Stiles let out a yelp of surprise and alarm, but I barely heard it. I was not in the mood to deal with her coy bullshit today. I was done dealing with her. I was done dealing with Jackson. I was done dealing with the hunters, and I was seeing red.

"I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish with all of your little games. Creeping on people and listening in and smirking and pushing your new supernatural boob job in guys' faces, but I'm done dealing with it."

"Oh I'm sorry," she said quietly, still grinning widely. "Am I making you jealous?"

"Jealous?" The word actually hurt in my stomach, like acid working at the walls. But just because the word felt right on my tongue didn't mean that she had to know it. "Why would I be jealous?"

"You wouldn't be," she said innocently. "Unless…you were afraid I might actually be able to take something you wanted."

Stiles appeared to my right, looking back and forth between Erica and I with concern, but too much fear to try and push us apart. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, completely oblivious to the fact that the 'something' Erica was referring to was him. She snickered at him, enjoying her private joke.

I took a deep breath, pushing down my anger and trying to control my heart rate. I would not give Erica the satisfaction of thinking she could take Stiles from me. Not for a second.

"Listen, I got my friends without giving up my humanity to join a murder-conceding cult. But to each his own. You've got your pack, and I've got mine. Just stay the fuck away from us."

"Hey," she said with a shrug, her smirk still firmly in place. "He's the one who made the Catwoman analogy. Not me, sweetheart."

"A-Analogy?" Stiles stuttered. "I didn't—I mean, yes, there was a—a comparison but that—that was very, very basic. You're a villain, I'm a good guy, I'm gonna stop you stuff. Not—Not like other Batman and Catwoman—I didn't mean like…"

"Stiles, shut up," I snapped, and he quickly nodded and took a step back.

I turned back to Erica, who was still smiling away. It made me momentarily wish I'd taken up Peter's offer for the bite. I would have loved to intimidate her with my claws at the moment, take that infuriating smirk right off her stupid face. As it was, I didn't have any physical weapons. I had to stick with words.

"Look, if you want to go on playing up this forbidden Catwoman and Batman relationship to piss me off, that's fine. You can be Selina. But you don't get to be Rachel."

Erica raised her eyebrows with a playful pout. "Ooh, very clever. But, remind me. Isn't Rachel the one who gets, uh…blown up?" She laughed to herself for a few seconds, only pausing when she noticed my smile.

"That's real cute. You want to base your argument on a comic book reference and then only use the movie-verse as your source of canon? That's—That's actually adorable."

Her eyebrows sunk down past their natural place, furrowing in confusion as she felt her advantage in the situation slipping away.

"Do some research, sweetheart. Rachel Caspian is one of the few love interests Bruce Wayne had where he was actually prepared to give up his mask and spend the rest of his life with her. You want to do a little flirting while you go around killing people? That's fine. But stop pretending you're something that you're not."

Erica shoved my hands off her arms, something I realized she could have done a long time ago before she realized she was losing her game. She made a conscious effort to keep herself from snarling, but her eyes were bordering on golden rather than brown.

I grinned, holding up my hands and taking a few steps back. "Come on, Stiles. Let's go find Lydia."

He cautiously looked back and forth between Erica and I, then scurried to my side. I couldn't tell which one of us he was more afraid of at the moment, but he looked almost awed as he fell into step beside me. "I—I honestly don't think I've ever been more attracted to you."

I rolled my eyes, but was unable to keep the proud grin off my face. Was it the best analogy? No, and I knew it. Had I been fighting with myself, I would have been able to poke a thousand holes in my own argument. But this was Erica, and she didn't know enough to know how thin my so-called snappy retort had been. But it'd been enough for Stiles. I had to remind myself that I didn't have to be jealous of Erica, no matter how close she got to Stiles's face. She was dangerous, and she was gorgeous, but she wasn't what he wanted. I didn't have supernaturally good looks and superpowers. All I had was nerdy knowledge about fictional people with supernaturally good looks and superpowers. But that was all I needed.

"Hey!"

I paused in my stride, my smile growing stony as Erica's voice pushed its way into my consciousness again. Stiles and I turned around reluctantly, watching as she crossed her arms over her chest and stood unapologetically in the middle of the hallway.

"If you two are wondering about Jackson's parents, they're about half a mile from here. In Beacon Hills cemetery." She smiled and, without another word, turned around and started making her way down the stairs.

We watched her for a moment, stunned. But my shock quickly faded into annoyance. "Do we really have to talk to her?"

"You got a better idea?" Stiles asked, resigned.

I didn't.

He grabbed my hand, tugging me along after him and lacing his fingers with mine as we started up our game again. Running down a hallway trying to keep up with someone who refused to give us the answers we needed, but was totally okay with dangling the information in front of our faces to remind us that they had it. Only this time, we were chasing Erica, which made the entire charade that much more annoying. I decided to let Stiles do most of the talking, afraid that if I snapped again, Erica might have an actual reason to withhold the information we so desperately needed.

"Okay! Wait! Wait, wait, wait. Do you know how they died?"

"Maybe. If you tell me why you're so interested."

He paused, immediately looking to me for help. I started to think of an excuse, deciding that staying closer to the truth would be best. Jackson was an asshole who I hated, and I wanted dirt on him. That'd be good enough to get her off our backs, even if she didn't tell us.

But before I could open my mouth, she'd slowed to a halt. Her eyes dragged back and forth across the floor, piecing together the one thing we'd spent the last two days fighting and breaking the law to make sure no one could piece together.

"It's him, isn't it?"

"What?" Stiles asked quickly. "Who? Him who?"

"The test didn't work, but it's still him. It's Jackson."

Erica started off down the hallway again, each stride with more determination than the last. Her confidence in her answer—confidence in herself now that she had an answer—seeped out of her every pore, seemingly splashing over the floor from the tips of her hair as her curls bounced behind her. Stiles and I exchanged a look, equally horrified and disgusted, and took off after her.

"Great, so you finally figured it out," I snapped before I could stop myself. "You want a prize or something?"

"I wouldn't mind a little respect, bitch," she replied, but there wasn't any of the expected, mocking laughter in her voice. "Unless you have some claws that you're hiding, I'm the one about to dispatch your problem and save the town. You couldn't do that between the four of you, could you?"

"What? D-Do you have a glory death wish or something? Are you seriously stupid enough to try and take on Jackson on your own?" Stiles asked.

"No. But I bet three betas and an Alpha are going to do a better job than an Omega and three humans."

I scoffed, and started taking longer strides to draw level with her. "Erica, cut the crap. The Argents have information going back decades and they don't know how to kill him. What makes you think you guys will?"

"Because the Argents are human, and we have an Alpha," she said, laughing at the simplicity of it.

I laughed too, but with a sharp edge that cut the amusement right off her face. "If you're actually not scared of the Argents because they're human, you're stupider than I thought you were. And Derek being an Alpha doesn't mean he's some all-powerful leader. There are loads of Alphas. All it means is that he killed one of them."

"Doesn't that prove his strength?" Erica asked, trying to out-stride me but not quite managing it.

"If you're blind and innocent, sure. But you seem to keep forgetting that we've all known about this a hell of a lot longer than you have. We were there, okay? We watched Derek kill his uncle to become the Alpha. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be hero-worshipping him."

If she tried to hide the stutter in her step, she failed. She was shaken. Clearly, there were some things about his past Derek had decided not to share with his pack. It was probably a good idea too, since he was looking for some unwavering loyalty that was rare to find in teenagers. I trusted him on some things, but I wasn't about to leave the kanima problem to him. It would just end up with more people getting killed.

But Erica recovered from her shock pretty quickly, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and continuing down the hall. "You won't kill him, and Derek doesn't trust the Argents to. From where I'm standing, he looks like the best option to stop the kanima."

"You can't tell Derek, okay?" Stiles called. I could hear him tripping over himself in an effort to keep up with us, and he tried as best as he could to stick his head between us as he glared at the blonde. "There's a lot more to this that you don't know about. And just because you got the Alpha-bite makeover doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

"Why not?" she demanded. She stopped short and whirled around, glaring at Stiles as he slid to a halt. "That's all anyone ever used to do to me."

"Erica," I sighed, but all it did was give her a target for her rage.

"No! No, you don't get to tell me what to do, Sadie! You don't get to tell me the way they destroyed me was different! I still could have died, okay? Their methods are just a lot crueler and slower."

"I'm not saying they were right! I'm just saying that you're not either."

Erica snarled. In the blink of an eye she was shoving me back, sending me stumbling into the wall and stepping forward to push me again, or worse. Before she could, Stiles was between us, herding her back and glaring. "Hey! Sadie never did anything to you! Back off!"

"Oh no, of course not. Not precious Sadie. No, she could never do anything wrong. She's just so fucking perfect," Erica said, her voice almost sickly sweet. She started to shake as Stiles backed toward me, holding an arm out to keep me behind his back. "You know, I used to have the worst crush in the world on you, Stiles. Ha, yeah. You. You didn't even know who I was, but honestly? I was okay with that. I was okay watching you pine after stupid Lydia Martin, with her little short skirts and her jacked up lacrosse captain boyfriend. She treated you like shit, and you just smiled at her and asked for more. I guess—I guess I thought you'd have to get sick of it eventually. You'd grow up, get over your little grade school crush, and maybe then you'd start to notice me. But then—then you came along."

I actually took a step back as Erica's eyes turned on me. There was so much anger in her voice, I actually expected her eyes to be glowing yellow. But they were just plain brown, actually shining with what looked like unshed tears. I quickly decided I'd rather have her attack me again.

"Perfect Sadie Bennet with your perfect little smile and your perfect little laugh. And you were all the good parts of Lydia with an actual human soul. And I thought nothing could be worse than watching him trail after Lydia. But you know what? I was wrong. You two are—you're so much worse. I just had to watch you two get together from the background. Even after I talked to Sadie at formal, I was just a goddamn set piece. Watching you two together has been one of the worst experiences in my life, and you never even bothered to notice me. Exactly how you're not noticing me right now!"

My eyebrows immediately furrowed on my forehead. I'd certainly been paying attention to her rant, and I had the uneasy knot of guilt and pity in my stomach as proof. But Erica wasn't looking at me. She was staring at Stiles with exasperated eyes, eyes that were still watery despite her rage, or maybe because of it.

I glanced over at him to find him staring at the floor, looking confused. I shared a look with Erica before following his gaze down to the cement ground of the hallway. There was a pool of water forming beneath us, evidently seeping out from underneath one of the doors in the hallway. I had just enough time to look up, to read the words "boys locker room" on the wall, before the door flew open and Scott came tumbling out onto the floor.

I gave a startled yelp of surprise, but it was immediately covered by Scott's groan of pain. Jackson appeared from the depths of the locker room, leaping on top of Scott and trying to throttle him. Erica, Stiles and I immediately jumped into motion, dragging the boys apart. It was easier said than done, since each of them had supernatural strength and a fiery temper. I had to help Stiles hold Scott back, wrapping my arms around his torso while Erica pinned Jackson to the opposite wall.

In seconds the hallway was filled with people coming to watch the commotion. Stiles was trying to talk Scott down, Jackson grunting as he tried to free himself from Erica's grasp. Allison ran out of the boys' locker room, but was smart enough to keep her distance from the fight. Stiles, Erica and I were dodging claws as it was.

"What the hell's going on?! Hey! Enough!"

If I'd had the breath, I would have groaned as the familiar voice pierced through the air. As it was, there was nothing I could do but continue trying to hold Scott down as Mr. Harris stalked down the hallway.

"Enough! What do you idiots think you're doing?! Jackson! Calm down!"

There was another grunt as Jackson finally gave up his attempt to murder Scott, though he was still rigid in Erica's arms. Scott stopped fighting as well, breathing heavily and pushing his wet hair out of his face. Stiles and I sighed in relief, though it was emotion that evaporated the moment Harris started talking again.

"Mr. McCall, you wanna explain yourself? Stilinski?"

We all explained dark looks, unable to come up with a good excuse. Presumably, Allison's trip to talk to Jackson hadn't gone so well, and Scott had come to her rescue. I wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the fact that Jackson was wet and shirtless, but it didn't really matter at this point. There was no way to get Jackson in trouble without throwing Scott, and maybe even Allison under the bus as well. I didn't have any good explanations. Just a long list of snappy remarks about how obvious Harris's favoritism was that I managed to keep to myself. But in reality, I was only delaying the inevitable.

"Uh, you dropped this," a voice somewhere to my left interrupted. I looked up to see Matt, holding Allison's tablet out to Scott. I wanted to leap forward and grab it, but Harris was already snatching it out of his hands. He waved it around as a pointer, picking out the guilty in his fury.

"You and you," he started, gesturing to Jackson and Scott. But then Satan got a better idea, and waved his hand to everyone in the hall, from Matt to Stiles. "Actually, all of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

Matt held his hands up in disbelief, outraged that he was being punished for merely standing in the hallway and attempting to return someone's property. But no one else even had the energy to protest. So much for not getting ourselves detentions on top of restraining orders…

A/N: Wow it has been forever since I updated and I am so sorry. I have a list of excused that would make a hefty paragraph, but the important thing is that it's here and I'm writing, yeah? Awesome.

Thank you so much for the support you guys give me, as always. Welcome to new and old readers, favoriters, and followers, and thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews I got from MsRose91, katiesgotagun, RHatch89, FeatherSun19994, SierraR, smokeandfangs, Ayine, Guest1, Guest2, lste, Guest3, , GetsueiNoYume, Lmv16, Marloweee1856, Thranduil'sWinterCrown, Cheyxo, RK13, and LionHeartMisfit. 3 You keep me going.

Happy Belated Holidays to you all, and and early Happy New Year. Thank you, again!

-Brittney