About time for anyone telling you off for all your deeds

No sign the roaring thunder stopped in cold to read

No time

I get mine and make no excuses; waste of precious breath

- I'm So Sorry, by Imagine Dragons


Being a werewolf has a number of perks. Enhanced… well, everything. Bigger, better, faster—stronger. This is both a blessing and a curse. I'm still fairly new to the whole deal, but there are perks to it that I feel I've mastered.

I can hear over absurdly great distances. I can see things that I'd never even thought to look for, feel things I'd never noticed. The way grass bends in the breeze; the skid of shoes across pavement; the reverberation of the bass in a car stereo on the windows of buildings as they pass by. Greenberg's stomach growling like a grizzly bear being poked with a stick—six halls away from me. The vibrations from the springs in a pen being pressed tightly together before its abrupt release. The pressure change of a room as a door is opened and cold air rushes in, forcing the heat to flood outside.

Of course, one thing I'd failed to consider was how my emotions can pinpoint all of these enhancements onto one single track. Right now, that track is headed straight for Derek Hale.

I didn't care what it took. I didn't care that I'd miss school; I didn't care that I'd miss another therapy session (I'd planned to actually stop by her office sometime today), and I definitely didn't care that I'd miss a detention—none of it mattered. It all fell into background noise.

I didn't even pause to explain myself to Scott and Stiles. I turned away, eyes blazing, focusing on the exit as I stormed down the hallway.

I took my time getting there, at first stopping in the woods to reason it all out before I confronted him. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Obviously, they planned to do something about the Kanima. But what? And why wouldn't they tell me? Are they honestly worried I'd interfere? They think it's Jackson! I hate Jackson! Why would I stop them from hurting him?

All that pitstop did is psych me up even more. I left the woods more pissed and confused than ever, speeding through the trees to the warehouse.

I pushed the door open so hard that the rusted thing bashed into the railing of the stairs. The noise was deafening, and if there was ever any doubt of my heightened strength, it had just vanished.

Derek came tearing out of the cart, ready for whatever enemy dared to come his way, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dank warehouse. Seeing him only fanned the flames of my fury, and I felt the fire swelling in my throat like dragon. I wanted to see him burn. There was a fleeting expression of confusion that crossed his face when he saw me, but it disappeared even faster than it'd appeared. Still, I saw it, and it only mad me madder. "Savannah?"

Quietly, calculatingly, I descended the steps. He glanced over my shoulder, as if waiting for someone else to follow me down the steps.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Funny, I was going to ask the same thing." I snarled, stopping at the foot of the steps to cross my arms at him. He stood in front of the cart, unapologetic and knowing full well what this was about. I took a deep breath and focused on the ground momentarily before slowly looking up to lock gazes with him. "What's Isaac doing back at school?"

"I thought he'd have told you." Derek tilted his head at me like some smug politician, and I cracked my knuckles. If he were just about anyone else I would've attacked him by now.

"I thought you'd have told me," I spat. "Isn't that our deal? Total honesty? You said you wanted me to stay, Derek! Why?"

"Because you—"

"Shut up!" I screeched, my voice suddenly echoing in the warehouse. Derek looked a little surprised at my outburst, understanding slowly coloring his features. "I didn't come here to get answers. The truth is, I don't want to know anymore."

He frowned, his jaw clenching. "You're overreacting."

"Fuck you," I ground out. "You're so sure that I'm ready to sabotage whatever plan you have that you lied to me. You're hiding something from me! The last thing you've wanted for weeks is Isaac to go back to school. You want him close by. And now, he shows up in the halls this morning?" I shook my head and bitterly smiled, clenching my fists tightly. "And it's not something that would set me off, not like this—except—why? Why would he suddenly show up at school? Because you want as many people there as possible to handle this Kanima thing, but apparently that plan can't include me anymore." I shook my head and looked down, resignation settling inside me. My eyes burned with the sting of betrayal.

"Did you bite Jackson?" I frowned and paused, my vision blurring as I practically begged him to be honest with me. Finally, to tell me everything. "How about Scott? Didja bite him, too? I mean—why not! You bit everyone else!" I laughed bitterly, tearfully, and swiped angrily at my cheek.

Derek simply watched me with his jaw set and shook his head.

A small spark of hope flickered in my chest. "You didn't bite Scott? Who bit him?"

He looked away, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

And then the hope was extinguished with a fizzle. I snorted bitterly and took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling to stave off the tears.

"You think I don't know you." My fingers tightened, my claws digging into my palms. "I do," I nodded, my voice tight. "I know your family died in a fire. Didn't they?" He stepped forward, finally reacting to my obvious jibe. "The people who meant the most to you, burned alive. That's what the papers said. Everyone you love, dead, burned. Gone. I know you're all alone in the world. Or… you were," I turned away and crossed my arms. "You went out and made your own little pack, didn't you Derek? And you started with me. Why'd you pick me?" I turned back and tilted my head at him "Is it because you thought I would be easy to control?"

He kept unsettlingly quiet, and I knew I had hit the nail on the head.

"You took me in, picked me off the streets and gave me this—this gift. You showed me a whole different way of living. You—" I paused, my throat suddenly tightening with emotion. I waited until it passed to start again. "You saw a girl who was struggling just to walk, and you picked her because you knew she had the least to lose. You saw how hard she tried just to forget she wasn't dead, so you gave her another way to live."

I swiped angrily at my eyes and let out a hysterical grumble as I shook my head and tried to get myself together. "I don't know why you lied," I said, my throat aching with the strain of my emotions. "It doesn't matter. I'm done. I'm finished trying to convince you that you can trust me, trying to prove myself to someone who can't stop being suspicious long enough to see me. I don't think you know what it feels like to—" I couldn't finish the sentence, my shaking fingers clenching back into fists. "Christ, Derek! I can't even trust you to tell me when you've found a way to get Isaac back in school. How can you expect me to trust you enough to plot the murder of one of my classmates with you? How can you expect me to hop on board with someone like you? I mean—"

Did he ever feel like he should be honest with me? Did he ever doubt what he was doing when he lied to me? "I can't. I can't do this anymore!" I turned my back to him and headed for the stairs. My steps were quick, as I rushed away before he could say something that would make me want to stay.

I waited, but his voice never came. Despite my better judgment, when I got to the top of the stairs I turned my head and paused without facing the warehouse. Waiting. Listening. Hoping that he would finally speak, finally say something that could make all of this okay.

But it never came, so I left.


The door of the daycare jingled, and the sounds of cars rushing over the wet pavement outside were muted as I stepped inside. A new woman was sitting at the desk. I vaguely wondered if the last one had been fired as I approached slowly, cautiously.

I glanced up into the wall of mirrors behind the desk and froze in my tracks. The face that stared back at me was almost unrecognizable. Life with Derek, down in the warehouse, meant that food was a pretty low hung priority in our lives. Pizza was the main course that we had, but unless I went to get it we usually went without. There was the one time that Boyd had brought back an absurd amount of nachos and corndogs—on his last day at the ice rink. But that's the only other time someone other than me had gone out of their way to find food for the pack.

My hair was still up, but pieces had fallen down. They curled at the ends, framing a gaunt, exhausted face that sort of looked like mine. Except this face was paler than it had been in a very long time… not since I was a human, dependent on drugs. Not since I was broken. Not since I was weak, and scraping the bottom of the barrel and begging for scraps—or, more accurately, stealing them. The brown in my eyes had dulled from a warm chocolate to the hard trunk of a dead lifeless tree. My mouth looked like it was permanently etched with a deep frown—like if I ever smiled again my face might crack right down the middle like a statue.

"Oh, hi there… Can I help you with somethin', hon? You need to sign someone up for daycare?"

I blinked and looked away from the ghost who stared limply back at me. The woman had a black and pink patterned shirt on, and she was a bit heavy-set. She had short brown, badly highlighted hair and bright, curious blue eyes that were currently trailing uncertainly over my form.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and rested my hand on the counter. "No, no I was looking for someone." Her face remained carefully blank, and I realized she would not be nearly so easy to fool. Surprisingly, I found that I didn't have the energy to even try and trick her, so I went for honesty. "I was wondering if my nephew was feeling up for a visitor."

"And what's his name?" She asked as she turned towards the computer and began pecking away at the keyboard.

I hesitated and frowned. "Uh, Wi—William." Don't call the cops.

"Last name?"

My eye twitched. "Carmichael. William Carmichael."

She hummed, her eyes sliding suspiciously over to me as she abruptly stopped typing. "Oh, I remember him. He was the one with the dinosaurs, wasn't he?"

Something in my chest stirred at the description. "Yes."

"Yes, yes, that's what I thought," She sighed and looked over my shoulder, her eyes unfocused as she noisily tried to remember. "Hmm, well, let's see now—it's been a good bit since I've seen him around here. His momma and him relocated—"

I jerked, ice running through my veins as my grip on the counter tightened to the point of almost breaking it in half. "What?" I managed, my intensity taking the woman aback.

"Relocated. They moved daycares." She blinked but before I could ask, she continued. "To the another one on the other side of Beacon Hills. It caters to older children. Apparently that June recommended a change of pace, but Will was a smart cookie, so it didn't surprise any of us. He'll make their heads spin with all those adorable dino facts!"

A breath I didn't even know I'd been holding whooshed out of my lungs, and I took a moment to slow my racing heart. "…Right." I breathed. "Of course. I'll just call them."

And without waiting for a response, I strode towards the door. She might've continued trying to talk to me, but I ignored her as I stepped back onto the street.

The clouds had gathered some time after I stormed out of the warehouse, and I looked up and down the streets. That daycare was my ace in the hole. I knew if I was going to get into contact with Rex, it had to be through there. It was my only channel. I couldn't go to their house, because Maria had made it clear that she fully intended to call the police on me if I ever showed up unannounced again. I wouldn't put it past her to do something stupid, like get a restraining order.

Well, I guess there's only one thing to do. I turned to stride purposefully down the street, the rain having lightened to a gentle mist, and my hands clenched into fists as I crossed traffic and jogged across the parking lot of the strip mall.

This Best Buy didn't have much of a selection, no more than any other Best Buy—but it had a pay phone. The familiar, unique smell of plastic hit my nostrils. You know the smell, the one that only Best Buys seemed to have—but I didn't go inside. It only hit me when I strode past the entrance and the doors slid open, and the cool air kissed the damp skin of my bare legs.

I looked up when a car door shut, spotting a man getting into a truck, a blue Best Buy bag scrunched tightly in his fist. I could hear him as he stuck the key into his ignition and turned it, and the truck's engine rumbled like a waking beast.

The payphone was old and probably harbored all kinds of diseases, and I almost smacked my head in disbelief when I realized I needed change to use the stupid thing. The truck went past me and I could hear the man singing along to some ho-down-country song, and I rolled my eyes as I tried to think of what to do.

The need to hear Rex's voice was almost overwhelming, so I decided to go ahead and dig in my pockets. Maybe a leprechaun visited—my fingers hit something smooth and plastic, and I slowly pulled out the slender gym membership. Derek's face stared back at me and I almost snapped the thing in half. But then I remembered that a card wasn't the only thing I'd taken from his wallet—I mean, after all. Come on. This is me we're talking about.

I also took two twenties and all of the change he had, which wasn't much. Two nickels, a dime, and a quarter. I rolled my eyes at his lame variety of change and put in the quarter and dime, ignoring the nickel it spat back at me.

The phone rang, and I waited with bated breath. What would I say to her? How could I convince her to let me speak with him? How could I express to her the relief that he brings me, the relief I so desperately need… I didn't have the energy to get angry that she didn't tell me she'd moved daycares. In fact, theres a chance that I'm the reason why, and some small part of me couldn't blame her. Last time I'd seen Rex, I'd dragged him out of daycare and taken him for pizza while I was high as a kite. As much as I absolutely loathe to admit this, I would never want anyone else to take Rex anywhere when they've just swallowed an obscene amount of pills. So… She's not wrong. With every ring, my heart sank deeper and deeper into my toes.

"Hello,"

I gasped and opened my mouth.

"You've reached the Carmichaels." My eyes slid shut and I felt another little piece of my heart whither into itself. But still, I held out hope—maybe Rex found his way into the message somehow? "Please leave your name and number, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks! Byyye."

The harsh beep screeched through my ear, and I bashed the phone down onto the receiver again and again, focusing all of my frustration into the stupid plastic. Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I whirled on my heels to spot an old man, raising his eyebrows at me expectantly. He wanted the phone.

Knuckles white, I slowly turned back to the booth and hung the phone up. I indulged a moment to take a deep, slow breath before exiting and shoving my hands down into my pockets as I strode away.


The last place I wanted to go was back to school, but my options were limited. I suppose I could've turned to the streets again, but to be honest they'd basically used up all of their usefulness for me. And besides that I knew that I might have to return to them tonight because… well, I couldn't imagine going back to the warehouse. And I had no other place to stay, so…

I was in the courtyard, twirling a cigarette between my fingers. To light, or not to light?

"Hey," Stiles called from behind me. "There you are! We've been looking for you everywhere!" I sighed and lifted my eyes to the sky as he quickly approached me. Currently, I was perched on my usual windowsill, and he seemed a little more frantic than usual. "What the hell happened?!"

I lifted the cigarette, holding it between two fingers and twirling it slowly so he could see. "I found this, smushed in a pack at the bottom of my locker." He frowned, gesturing as if to ask me who gave a crap. I pursed my lips and considered the small, seemingly harmless roll of cancer. "I wonder what would happen if I smoked this? I mean—I can't get sick, right? I already know pills are useless. But what about this?" I paused. "Or alcohol, for that matter. Do you think I can get drunk?"

When I looked at Stiles, he seemed to be restraining himself from snapping at me. He stared at me for a moment, clearly at war with himself, but when I didn't budge he finally caved and sighed. "O-Okay," He grudgingly obliged, moving forward. He put his hand out slowly, his fingers splayed as if to tell me he wasn't going to try anything rash, and I simply watched him as he slowly lowered his hand to mine and plucked the cigarette from between my fingers. I let him, watching as he quickly flicked it on the ground and stomped it.

"Well that was uncalled for," I quipped, and he scrunched his face and shook his head.

"Agree to disagree. I don't know what that crap would do to you, but I hear it's not good—so, I think that's one question better left unanswered." We both paused as we let that thought soak in, and I silently expanded on the question of whether alcohol would affect me or not in my mind. "Hey," Stiles suddenly chirped, dragging my attention back to him. "You know what question should be answered?" I blinked at him. "Where the hell have you been!?" He lifted his hands as if to impress upon me the significance of his question.

I sighed. "I yelled at Derek."

Whatever he'd been expecting me to say, that clearly wasn't it. He froze and gawked at me, his mouth hanging open, as his brain slowly worked to decode the meaning of my words. "You… what?"

I rubbed my nose and looked away. "Yeah, I mean… I'm pretty sure I'm not in his pack anymore." Clenching my jaw angrily, I looked down and put whatever emotions welled up at that thought on lockdown.

Stiles seemed at a loss for words. I could feel his incredulous stare on me as I picked at the sleeve of my new shirt, and he suddenly shifted. "Well… how? What happened?"

I puffed a breath through my lips, blowing a raspberry as I lifted my eyes to the sky again. "Let's—I mean, can we not talk about that?"

I tried to force some venom into it, and I know that the sentiment was implied because it's my modus operandi, but it sounded flat even to my ears. Stiles watched me for another minute before finally, he quietly agreed and neither of us spoke for a breath.

I looked back up at him. "They tested Lydia," he said, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up.

"Hmm," I thoughtfully hummed. I considered it for half a second. "…Nah."

"I know!" He cried, throwing his hands at me. "That's what I said!" I watched him practically hop around with enthusiasm, and for a moment I was distracted from my intense brooding pity-party I'd been throwing myself. "Holy crap, where have you been!? Everyone keeps saying that she's cold, so clearly she's the only candidate left—"

"Well, did she pass?" I interrupted, bringing a thumb up to my lips. A strangled noise left his throat and I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Words, Stiles. I know you but I don't know you that well."

He looked over at a bush and casually stepped away, mumbling something into his shoulder.

"What was that?" I tilted my head as if I needed to hear him better, but we both knew that was crap. I heard him. I just wanted to make a point.

His eyes narrowed at me and he crossed his arms. "It doesn't prove anything, right?"

My eyebrows scrunched together. "It proves that she's Diablo." He snorted in surprise. "You ever get close enough to check the back of her skull when you were sniffing her hair?" He practically turned pink on the spot, choking on his own words. "Betcha there's a six-six-six somewhere in those red locks—"

"Strawberry blonde," He managed, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "The only thing on her perfect head is strawberry blonde hair!"

I scoffed. "Whoa, Stiles. Dial the fangirl back a few notches—please, I can't deal with you when you're like this—"

"Shut up," He snapped, and my eyes narrowed and he hesitated.

A beat passed. "So who are they?"

He exhaled briefly before frowning in confusion. "Who is who?"

I smirked. "Who am I? No, who are you?"

"What?"

I swallowed a laugh and waved him off. "You said they tested Lydia. Who's they?"

Understanding dawned on his face. "Ohhh… Um." His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and I felt my face harden—any trace of ease it'd gained since we started speaking completely drying up.

"Oh." I said lowly, and he grimaced.

"Yeah. That's what they lied to you about, huh?" I scrunched my eyes and nodded bitterly, and Stiles paused. "You don't want to…" He trailed off, looking at me expectantly, but I only frowned at him. "I mean, you don't still want to…"

"Oh," I looked away and mockingly smirked. "You're asking if I still think we should kill the Kanima now that there's a chance that it's your childhood crush?" He put his hand out to silently confirm my words, and I sighed. "I guess Derek was about one thing." Stiles started to take my words the wrong way, immediately bristeling and gearing up to argue, but I put my hand up to silence him. "He said that he thought I would back out."

Stiles' mouth popped open, but no words came out.

I looked away and ran a hand over my hair. "Lydia isn't the Kanima." I said, without a shadow of a doubt in my voice. "She might be spoiled, but that's the worst part of her. She's not…" I trailed off and shook my head, unable to finish my thought.

"Evil," Stiles interjected, and though I felt the word might be a tad dramatic, I accepted it. "Well… in that case… Er, I don't have to tell you that Derek isn't gonna give up."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "He's a dog with a bone," I dryly commented, and Stiles winced at the pun. "Sorry—I couldn't resist… but I guess you're right. He didn't lie to me so he could have a sudden question of morality. He's going to try to kill the Kanima, no matter who it is, and right now it seems like Lydia is the strongest contender. She's the only one who wasn't effected by the poison. To Derek, that's as good as a death sentence."

Stiles nodded. "And you know we can't let that happen."

For the hundredth time, I rolled my eyes to the sky. "Oh no, is this how it's gonna be? Now that I'm not with Derek, you and Scott—"

"Do you want them to kill her?" Stiles suddenly interrupted, his tone more passionate than I'd expected. My eyes snapped back down at him, and he took a step forward. "Is that what you want? To look the other way when your pack—when Isaac is dragged into do something like—committing murder?"

My eyes narrowed. "Isaac's chosen his side."

"Really? You of all people know it's not that easy," Stiles reasoned, and I clamped my mouth shut. He had a point. "So… what do you say?"

I looked up at him. He stared back at me, his eyes determined, with maybe just a hint of desperation wafting from him. I sighed. "Are you asking me if I want to help make Derek's life difficult?" I let a smirk that I didn't truly feel tug my lips up. "Stiles, look at who you're talking to. Of course I'm in," I reached out and pushed him, and he let out a relieved groan.