CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE SERPENT UNDERNEATH

A hoard of students crowded the doorway of a classroom as Scott walked down the hall. He stared at the growling crowd confused when he saw Ethan standing in the front and heard Lydia's voice say, "I don't get why no one's calling the police."

He pushed to the front of the crowd and saw Lydia facing off with Ms. Blake with Aiden at her side, in his arms.

Ms. Blake surveyed the red head like a baby animal, "They're gonna make an announcement over the P.A-"

"That's not gonna do anything!" Lydia cut her off in a shrill voice, "I told you—he's gone. Like the others, taken."

Ms. Blake obviously didn't believe her, "Look, we're just trying to understand, okay? All we know is that Mr. Westover didn't show up for class."

Lydia stared at the English teacher, "And the last time that happened was Mr. Harris." She crossed her arms and asked smugly, "Any one heard from him lately?" At Ms. Blake's dumb look she added, "He's gone."

The girl turned and stabbed the chalk board where she'd written the number two down in the Celtic symbol, "And he's going to be the second murder."

"Lydia, you wrote that number," Ms. Blake pointed out patiently.

"Okay, fine," Lydia sighed, "I'm psychic."

Ms. Blake gave her a skeptical look now, almost locking, "You're psychic?"

Frustration built in Lydia's face under she snapped loudly, "I'm something!"

"What's going on?" Scott and Ethan heard Emily's voice behind them as she pushed her way through to the front of the crowd.

"Mr. Westover's been taken," Scott told her quietly.

"A Sheriff's Deputy and a history teacher?" Emily listed off, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Exactly," Ethan agreed, "What's the pattern?"

"I don't know," Scott answered.

Stiles paced back and froth in front of his father the Sheriff, muttering to himself, trying to figure out how to reveal the supernatural world to the older man. Cora watched him with sore eyes from his bed.

"Stiles?" Alec asked impatiently.

Stiles jolted at the interruption to his musings, trying not to spazz out, "Dad, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just—I'm trying to to figure out how to start here."

The Sheriff wanted to stay but he was literally against a clock, "Hey, I don't have this kind of time."

Stiles took a short breath, calming himself down, "Um, for the last year, you've had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right?" At his father's unknowing look he continued, "I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who drowned him, and all these murders now. It's like—it's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review form my own son," his father warned him.

Stiles wavered, realizing what that sounded like, "I know." His eyes fell on something on his shelf, "Okay, see, but that's—that's just it," he grabbed the chess board, "The reason that you're losing the game is 'cause you've never been able to see the whole board," he set the chess board down on his desk, "I need to show you the whole board."

Allison and Jessie stared at their phones respectively at their texts from Scott that Mr. Westover disappeared. Jessie looked over to Allison, "You got the text?"

"Yes," Allison whispered, "You?"

"Yeah," Jessie breathed, "Along with the little tidbit that Deucalion wants me in his pack as well as Scott."

Allison stared at her father's desk, "I have to stop him."

Jessie sighed, "Allison—it's not your dad, it can't be."

"Look at this," Allison waved her hands over the map, "He knows everything. He's—He's planned everything." Then something occurred to her, her hands flashing to her pocket to take out the folded up map she's taken. "There's gotta be another point on the telluric current from the school."

"Where Mr. Westover will be sacrificed before he's dumped," Jessie realized, helping her smooth out the map and run the dark light over it until the found matching points on the map, "These are new."

"That's where he is," Allison held her phone over the mark and snapped a picture to send to Scott.

The Sheriff stared at the chess board where Stiles had labeled the pieces with names, color coded and everything. "So... Scott and Derek are werewolves?"

"Yes," Stiles nodded.

"And Jessie is a werewolf?" Alec guessed.

"Uh, no," Stiles shook his head, "Jessie is a vampire—well not yet—but her dad was a vampire. And now she's the only one left but she doesn't have her full powers yet."

"Of course," the Sheriff muttered, "So Kate Argent was a werewolf."

"Hunter," Stiles corrected, holding up her purple name tag, "Purple's hunter."

"Along with Allison and her father," Cora jumped in with the explanation.

"Yeah, and my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a kanima?" the skin above and between Alec's eyes scrunched up in utter confusion.

"Well, no, no," Stiles countered, "He's a druid, okay?"

"Well, we think," Cora allowed.

"So who's the kanima?" Alec asked frustratedly.

"Jackson was," Stiles told him.

"And being the kanima killed him," Alec frowned.

"Jackson was the Kanima but in our effort to turn him back, he died," Stiles explained, "Peter and Derek killed him, trying to save him."

"Who's the Darack?" the Sheriff asked in broken English.

"It's Darach," Stiles corrected, "We don't know yet."

"But he was killed by werewolves?" his father clarified.

"Slashed up and left for dead," Stiles illustrated.

"We think," Cora emphasized.

"We think," Stiles repeated for her.

The Sheriff sighed through his nose, leaning back as Stiles watched him closely. "Why was Jackson the Kanima?"

Stiles thought about it, "'Cause sometimes, the shape that you take reflects the person that you are."

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier-by-the-second father take?" he stared at his son.

Stiles deflated, "Uh, that would be more of an expression like the one you're currently wearing."

"Yeah," the Sheriff stood up, ready to leave.

Stiles jumped up from his seat, "Dad—Dad would you—I can prove it, okay?" He pointed at Cora, "Look, she's one of them. A werewolf."

"Stiles!" his father yelled, "That's enough."

He went for the door but Stiles interrupted him, "Dad, can you please just hold on?" He looked down at Cora, who seemed to be getting woozy, "You ready?"

"I don't think so," Cora sighed, feeling dizzy, "You gotta call Georgie."

"What?" Stiles snapped, getting angry at the mention of his girlfriend. Or... ex-girlfriend. He really didn't know right now.

"She's a witch, and if you are what I think you are to her, then she'll hear you and she'll come here and that'll be your proof," Cora explained, "Just call out her name. Now."

Stiles let out a breath through his nose before angrily saying, "Fine." He took a quick breath to calm down before stating calmly, "Georgie?... Georgie—can you hear me?"

The wind shifted in his room—though the window was closed—and smoke began to sift down from the ceiling, swirling like a mini-twister to the ground. It condensed and darkened as it started forming a figure in the room, color and form taking shape gradually and quickly until all the smoke dissipated and left the form of Georgie in it's place, "Stiles?"

"What the hell was that!?" Sheriff Stilinski shouted, breaking the stunned silence.

Georgie's attention snapped over to the older man, "Mr. Stilinski? I'm sorry if I scared you—don't freak out!"

"Now do you believe me, Dad?" Stiles turned to his father, "I'm telling the truth—I swear."

Cora stood up, "He is," and then promptly fell to the ground, fainting. The Sheriff rushed over to the girl, as Stiles and Georgie bent over her, "Oh my god."

"I can get her to the hospital," Georgie told them, grabbing Cora's arm and Stile's hand. The boy thought about pushing her off but instead took hold of his father's shoulder before he felt a light-headed feeling overwhelm him, watching smoke rise off his own body until it all went black.

Allison and Jessie drove in the huntress' car to the point on the map—the current taking them to an abandoned warehouse. "We should have called Scott," Jessie pointed out.

Allison gripped her ring dagger in her fist and hopped out of the car. The girls walked into the warehouse, looking around the wide open space illuminated only by the light of the moon.

"I heard something," Jessie whispered, "Clinking metal."

"Where?" Allison's head whipped behind her to look at the only girl, her brown curls dangling around her shoulders from the movement.

Jessie listened carefully, her head tilting her ears towards the sounds. Clink—clink—clink. Her eyes moved forward, "There." Allison followed her pointed finger, seeing a male body chained up against a metal fence, writhing weakly. Allison gasped when she saw the hooded figure behind the body thrust it's head from behind the man and reveal it's horribly scarred and disfigured face, screeching upon being interrupted.

Allison began to run for the man but Jessie grabbed her and tackled her to a nearby wall with her supernatural speed, "No, Allison!"

Suddenly Chris Argent stepped out from behind a pillar, yelling, "Get down!" his guns raised and aimed for the Darach, who screeched and ducked out of the way of the raining bullets. Chris walked forward, never ceasing in his onslaught as he walked, determined to take out this beast. He paused only to put more bullets into his silver handguns, and proceeded shooting after the disappearing flap of black fabric, "Help him!"

Jessie used her speed to get to the man faster than either Chris or Allison could, deftly unchaining him, "It's Mr. Westover, he's already dead—oh my god!" she had shouted the last bit.

"What is it?" Allison asked her.

But Jessie ignored her, instead pulling out her cell phone and hitting Scott's speed dial, "Scott!"

"Jessie!" Scott's relieved voice answered her, "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"We found Mr. Westover—but it isn't Guardians that are being sacrificed," Jessie rushed the words out frantically, "Mr. Westover is the history teacher. And I remember Stiles mentioned Tara used to teach middle school. It's teachers, Scott—It's Philosophers. And all the teachers we know are gathering at the school tonight at the recital. We've got to be there."

"Okay—got it," Scott told her, "Meet me there, I'll call Stiles."

"Scott?" Jessie's voice stopped him from hanging up.

"Yeah?" He asked dutifully.

Jessie took a deep breath, "Be careful."

She could practically hear Scott's smile over the wire, "I will. You be careful too. I'll see you soon."

She hung up the phone and stood up, facing Allison, who was arguing with her father.

"So it's my fault?" Allison was facing off with her dad, "That you've been lying to me for the past two months?"

"You wanna tally up the lies, Allison?" Her father shot at her, "I don't think you're gonna come out ahead on that one."

"Guys, not now," Jessie warned them, "We've got to stop the Darach from taking the third teacher. And they're all gathering like lambs to the slaughter at the school recital tonight."

"Guess we're going after all," Allison murmured.

In the midst of the rush to get Cora admitted to the hospital, Stiles didn't say anything about Georgie following him and his father in to get her the help she needed. The Sheriff was still dumbstruck about what he saw, but finally admitting to himself that he needed to listen to what his son was trying to tell him.

He sat quietly while Stiles explained the Darach to him. The sacrifices in threes. The end game. As he tried to absorb it all in a hospital hallway he noticed Georgie standing awkwardly off to the side a little ways down from them. She snuck glances at Stiles from behind her hair, shy and sad.

"Do you believe me now?" Stiles asked when he was done energetically and urgently explaining all his dad needed to know in a supernatural crash course.

The Sheriff was quiet for a few moments, trying to let everything sink in, "I... I think so... I'm still confused on some things. You never mentioned what Georgie is in your little chess set."

Stiles' face dropped as he heaved a sigh, knowing Georgie was behind him. He could feel her stare on the back of his neck, just like earlier in English class. "That's a little more complicated. Until recently, I thought she was completely normal."

His father gave him a look as if the idea of normalcy was ridiculous, "Son, if what you've been telling me is true, then I don't think anyone in this town is normal."

Stiles snorted derisively, "You're probably right. Georgie's a witch. It's just—she never told me until we caught her. Now... I don't know what's going to happen with us."

"It's not like she's the only supernatural person you're hanging out with," Alec pointed out, "I say give her a chance." He let out a breath and stood up from the very uncomfortable blue plastic chair, "Now I've got to get out there and stop this Darrack from getting another teacher."

Stiles didn't bother correcting his dad this time—in the grand scheme of things, proper pronunciation didn't really rank high on the list of priorities—and nodded, "Be careful, dad. Please."

The Sheriff smiled gently to his son's concern, "Always am," and turned to walk out to the exit.

"Stiles," the spazzy boy heard Georgie's voice behind him. He inwardly cringed at the sound and stood, turning to see her standing right behind him, a nervous and hopeful expression on her face, "Stiles, please let me explain."

"Why should I?" Stiles countered, not really ready to let go of the hurt he was feeling.

"Because you know I'm not the Darach," Georgie insisted, "You know that Stiles, I know you do."

"You've been spotted with the bodies," Stiles snapped at her, "I saw you at the pool with the first body. We saw you at the hospital when Jessie's dad was taken. Cora and Peter caught sight of you at the mall when we thought Derek was dead!"

Georgie adopting a confused expression asking, "What mall?"

Stiles gave her a look of disbelief, "The abandoned mall the outskirts of town."

Georgie didn't seem to be any less confused, "Why the hell would I be there?"

"Because that's where the fight with the Alpha pack was?" Stiles phrased it like a sarcastic question, not buying her 'confusion' for a minute.

"What big fight?" Georgie asked for clarification.

Stiles full-on scowled at her this time, "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Cora and Peter saw you there."

Georgie sighed, searching for an answer, "When?"

Stiles almost didn't answer, but now he was getting wary as she didn't let up on her act, "While we were helping Scott on the way to cross country meet. He got hurt in the fight."

Georgie paused then, thinking over his time line, before a look of realization overcame her face, "You mean the trip I was on the whole time?"

Stiles was dumb struck now, just realizing that Georige had been on the bus with them the entire trip. He had spent most of the time switching between pushing Scott to get himself help and stealing glances at her while she chatted with her friend. She couldn't just 'teleport' in a bus full of kids. And she was in the crowd during the fight.

Something occurred to Georgie, "That's where Scott's injuries were from?" She stopped, sighing exasperatedly, "Stiles, I'm not a fighter. I'm a healer practitioner. I cast the spell to heal Scott's wounds."

Stiles halted his musing, now the one giving her a confused look, "That was you?"

Georgie nodded, "I saw that he was hurt, I spotted the blood on his shirt and saw you guys go into the bathrooms at the pit stop. So I cast a healing spell."

Stiles thought back to that day, when he saw Jessie walking out with a healed Scott, and remembered that Jessie said they'd just suddenly healed before she even had the chance to poke him with the needle.

"You helped him..." Stiles slowly realized.

"I'm not evil, Stiles," Georgie begged him with her moistened eyes, "It's just that ever since the witch trials there have been strict laws to prevent exposure. And there are harsh punishments if we let the secret out without permission. I couldn't tell you." She paused, letting a lone tear scrape down her pail cheek, "Please—you have to believe me."

Stiles stared at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, weighing the options in his head. To trust her—or to not trust her?

Sonia Mortem rushed into a parking lot in the high school, her heals clicking against the cement as she stepped up to the entrance into the recital, graciously accepting the pamphlets being handed out at the door before she slipped through the crowds of tearful parents and united students. She dodged the tanned boy-wolf Sonia believed Deaton was wasting his time on. She stood in the back far corner, close to the exit door that led into a school hallway. She kept her eyes on the clock above, practically counting the seconds as the big hand ticked ticked ticked.

He black hair in tight curls was pulled back from her face haphazardly, the only purpose of the hairdo simply so she could have a full scope of vision tonight.

She kept her eyes trained for her sister—and the true reason she was here, the Darach. She kept her arms crossed, her nails resting on the black fabric of her simple long sleeved shirt. All she had was her cheap cell phone on her person, but she knew she didn't need anything special to face the monster that was sacrificing innocent lives.

She had her own magic to try out.

Scott stood in the back of the auditorium, his eyes scanning the crowd with Isaac by his side. He looked to his right and saw Lydia coming to stand next to him, "I thought you were going home."

Lydia, wide-eyed and downtrodden, shook her head, "I can't." She faced Scott with a hint of fear and doubt in her eyes, "I don't know why I'm the one that keeps finding the bodies. But maybe... if I just stopped trying to fight it—I'd find them before it happens. Maybe with enough time for someone like you to do something about it."

"You get me the time, and I'll do something about it," Scott promised her fiercely, "I swear to God, I will."

Lydia gave him a weak smiled, nodding as their hands cupped each others in friendly consolation.

Derek sat, a worried expression set deeply within his features as he looked at his comatose sister. Her lips were chapped and her skin was pail. He heard footsteps and the thud of the door opening and closing, looking up to see Marissa stepping back into the room with two cardboard cups of coffee.

"Still not awake?" Marissa asked concerned.

She came to sit next to Derek, handing him a cup as he shook his head, "No."

"She'll wake up, Derek," she promised, "And she'll be fine."

"How do you know?" he asked her, vulnerability evident in his broken whisper.

"Because I have faith," Marissa leaned in to kiss his cheek.

They heard a quiet groan then. Derek's eyes snapped over to Cora, seeing her eyelids fluttering as they revealed her brown eyes, "Derek?"

The Alpha stood quickly over her body, "Hey... Hey, I'm here."

Cora frowned up at him, the skin of her forehead fidgeting under the itchy head wrap, "What's happening to me?"

Derek wished he could give her a simple answer with a clear and easy solution. He had just gotten her back, and now it looked like he was losing her all over again. But he couldn't give her such solace as he whispered, "I don't know," but at least he could promise her one thing, "But I'm not leaving, okay? Not again." He leaned forward to give her a kiss on the forehead, swearing to himself that this was one promise he'd keep.

Somber faces of the audience matched the somber tones of the bands first number. Lydia felt her phone buzz in her pocket, reaching for it to read a message from Aiden, 'Need to talk to you right now'

The red head looked around, spotting Aiden sitting with his brother, before she quietly snuck off to the doors to step inside a hallway. It was dark in the hallway, and she could no longer hear the music. But the silence was deafening in her ears. She felt an ice cold grip on her chest and weight on her shoulders as she quietly stalked through the halls, her feet involuntarily bringing her to her English class.

Aiden sat beside his twin brother in the crowd, his hands searching his jacket pockets as his face seemed worried.

Ethan noticed the change in his brother's demeanor, "What's up?"

Aiden felt his jeans pockets, "I just think I lost my phone."

Jessie and Allison rushed into the auditorium, Chris right behind them. Scott recognized Jessie's breathing and turned around to see her, sighing, "Thank god," and rushing over to hug her. Jessie readily accepted the gesture, "It's okay—I'm fine."

Stiles and Georgie made their way into the room after them, Stiles stealing a hug from Jessie after Scott let her go, "My Dad's been let in on this town's secret identity now."

"He believes?" Jessie asked, slightly shocked.

Georgie looked sheepish, "I kinda appeared in a cloud of smoke in front of him."

The other four teenagers were wary in her presence. But Stiles sighed and stood up for her, "She's clear guys. We know the Darach is an druid and she's a witch, so..."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell any of you, it's just—it's just complicated," Georgie frowned.

"We get it," Jessie nodded.

"Did you get a feeling off the Darach when you faced it?" Scott asked quietly.

"It's someone we know," Jessie sighed, "Not very well. But they're angry—they're really, really angry and believe that justifies their actions."

"Well we're going to stop them," Scott promised her, taking her hand in his. Jessie's eyes flipped over to Isaac, giving him a small smile that he graciously returned. Her smile dropped when she noticed one thing, "Did Lydia go home?"

"No, she's right-" Scott turned to see Lydia had disappeared from his side, "Lydia?"

Lydia was about to call out for Aiden when the silence was broken by the eerie chanting she heard whenever she felt someone being taken. Her eyes widened in fear and dread as the chanting grew louder and louder in her ears.

A voice sounded behind her, asking, "You recognize it, don't you?"

Lydia whipped around, gasping at the sight of Ms. Blake, their English teacher, staring menacingly at her. She wasn't the nervous, scared little skeptic now. She was something entirely different. But before Lydia could even react to this truth, Ms. Blake hit her across the face—and everything went black.

Stiles and Scott burst out of the auditorium doors, Scott shouting, "Lydia!"

They paused in the absence of an answer and looked around the empty campus. Scott scanned the grounds with his super-vision.

Stiles looked at him, "Anything?"

Scott shook his head solemnly.

Stiles looked at his phone, "She's not answering texts. What do we do?"

The school band's playing started to grow more aggressive, jagged and quick as the tone of the music turned form slow and sad to dark and ominous.

Whispers broke out into the crowd between bewildered glances as the choir started chanting foreign words, their faces possessed by a darkness coming over them.

Jessie, Allison, Isaac and Georgie exchanged glances. Jessie adopted a serious tone, "You three stay here and watch all the teachers. I'll help the guys." She didn't wait for an answer before she rushed out of the room.

Lydia whimpered as her vision came too, slowly but surely. Her blurry eyes fell on her English teacher, all dressed in black, kneeling in front of her. "What are you doing?"

Jennifer's hands gripped the thick rope she was preparing, "What's necessary. I'm still surprised none of you seem to get that. You call them sacrifices, but you're not understanding the word." Gone was the patient teacher tone that hid years of insecurities. To be replaced by a malevolent and almost psychotic calmness, "It's derived from the Latin sacrificium, an offering to a deity, a sacred rite. A necessary evil."

"Stop," Lydia whispered, still blinking away the blurriness that she now realized was tears.

"Oh, I wish I could," Jennifer cooed, "But you don't know the alphas like I do."

"Please stop," Lydia begged.

Jennifer stood on her haunches, gripping the garrote and stepping over to stand behind Lydia's body in the desk chair, "But you, Lydia, you're not a sacrifice. You're just a girl who knows too much." She paused, a slight mocking in her voice as she corrected herself, "Actually, a girl who knew too much."

Lydia gasped as Jennifer reached to wrap the the rope around her throat, her hand just barely interrupting it's path. She opened her mouth, prepared to take a breath, ignoring Jennifer's warning, "Lydia, don't," before she let out a powerful scream.

Scott and Jessie flinched outside the auditorium as a shrill scream filled their ears, both reaching their hands up to block out the sound. They fell to their knees under the weight of the scream, not hearing Stiles calling their names.

Isaac gasped as quietly as her could, covering his ears inside the auditorium. Georgie and Allison peered at him, as did Chris. Georige asked him, "What is it?" looking around before she noticed Ethan and Aiden reacting much the same way.

Derek's ears perked up as he heard the echo of a scream at Cora's bedside. His head whipped jerkingly to the window, prompting Marissa to ask him, "What's wrong?"

Lydia was left with a gasping breath when she could no longer scream, dissolving into muted sobs as Jennifer dropped the rope limply against her neck and stared at her in awe, "Unbelievable."

The two-faced teacher stood in front of her, a look of disbelief on her face, "You have no idea what you are, do you? The wailing woman. A banshee, right before my eyes." A sinister grin enveloped her lips, "You're just like me, Lydia. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it." She pursed her lips in faux regret, "It's too bad, though. And too late."

Lydia opened her lips to beg once more but she was interrupted by another feminine voice that cut in coldly, "I don't think so, Julia."

Jennifer dropped the duck tape she had grabbed, her mouth gaping at the sight of Sonia Mortem in the classroom doorway. "You-" Jennifer cut herself off, not wanting to show fear.

Sonia grinned, "Me," as she reached her hand behind her to swiftly lock the classroom door. Her face slipped into a cold mask, "You know—when I used the power of the Nemeton to save your life—I wasn't giving you permission to go on a murder spree."

"You don't know what the alphas are capable of," Jennifer glared at her.

"I didn't know what you were capable of either," Sonia pointed out, "And that's a mistake that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. But it's not one I'm going to repeat."

"You can't stop me," Jennifer warned her, "I've already got my last Philosopher."

Movements became blurry and faster and more aggressive as the choir chanting grew louder and more powerful. The crowd was beginning to panic when suddenly one of the piano chords snapped and slid across the pianist's throat.

The middle aged woman choked on her own blood as she fell to the floor when the music and chanting abruptly halted. The students and teachers on the stage blinked confused as if snapping out of a trance.

Allison and Georige rushed to the front of the auditorium towards the stage, Chris calling out his daughter's name as they reached the teacher's body.

They noticed something leaking out of the woman's mouth, Allison voicing their thoughts, "Mistletoe."

Jennifer and Sonia faced off in the classroom, the teacher gripping a dagger, "You know you can't stop me."

"I know that I can," Sonia countered, the ground beginning to quake under their feet. Outside the school walls, strong vines crawled up the brick, breaking in through the weak glass windows and bleeding inside the classroom. Jennifer felt the vines grow larger and wrap around her ankles. She looked down at them in anger, "What do you think you're doing? You know that I need to stop them!"

"We'll manage just fine without you," Sonia muttered, willing the vines to wrap higher up the other woman's legs. "Lydia, come here sweetie." She didn't take her eyes off Jennifer as the young girl frantically stood from the desk chair and stood behind Sonia, grasping her elbow and holding back her tears of fear.

Jennifer glared fiercely at the duo and raised her hand with her dagger in it, prepared to strike when she heard a voice shout, "Drop it!"

She twisted her head to see Sheriff Stilinski standing to her right with his gun poised and aimed at her. She smirked and instead threw the dagger into his shoulder.

Sonia reached for Lydia and quickly pushed her towards the door, "Go outside, get the boy-wolf and half-blood, now!" Lydia gasped and spluttered as she was pushed into the hallway, Sonia slamming the door after her and locking it, willing strong vines to rapidly grow in the crevices of the door so it couldn't be opened.

She rushed to the Sheriff's side as Jennifer broke free of the vines at her feet and the woman's distraction. Alec raised his gun again towards Jennifer, who simply grimaced, and laughed.

Outside the room, Lydia starred inside with tearful eyes until she heard Stiles and Scott's voices, "Lydia!"

Jessie reached her first, "Lydia, are you all right?"

"That woman—she saved me," Lydia whispered.

"What happened?" Stiles asked her, "Where's the Darach?"

"It's Ms. Blake," Lydia gasped out, still in shock, "It's Ms. Blake, she's—she's in there with the woman. And..."

"And what, Lydia?" Scott asked her.

"And the Sheriff," Lydia sobbed, "Stiles—you're dad is in there too."

Dread bled into Stiles' face and he began to pound on the door, peeking inside the small window to see Ms. Blake facing off with his father and another woman. He couldn't see the other woman's face behind her dark hair falling into it from a ponytail but he could see his father aiming a gun at his English Teacher.

The Sheriff panted at the pain in his shoulder from the blade embedded in his body.

Sonia focused all her energy to will the vines and roots from the trees outside to break into the classroom, shattering all the windows and ripping the floor tiles apart as they burst into the room and wrapped around Jennifer's body.

Jennifer simply smirked, and suddenly she wasn't Jennifer anymore. She was the Darach, the ugly, scarred and dark cloaked figure they'd been chasing.

Stiles pounded harder and harder against the door as more wooden roots cracked the small window of the door. Jessie and Scott stood on his sides and used all their strength to shoved the door open passed the roots and vines blocking it, hearing a woman shout, "No!" before they burst into the room.

Stiles pushed in front of Jessie and Scott as they surveyed the room, all windows broken, every broken by large roots that overcame the entire room.

Stiles stared in shock at the absence of anyone inside the room, "Dad?"