"Sadie? S-Sadie? Wake up. Please, wake up."
It took my brain a couple of seconds to respond to the request. I couldn't remember falling asleep, and my head felt heavy and disoriented. I couldn't place the unfamiliar sheets against my skin. But that voice? That I could recognize from a mile away.
"Lydia?"
I rubbed my eyes, batting my hair out of my face. I blinked the walls of Stiles's room into focus, and I rolled onto my back. Lydia was perched on the edge of the bed. Her hazel-green eyes were wide, rimmed with red and brimming with tears. But she didn't seem to have enough left to cry. She almost pulled her hand back from my shoulder, but her hands were gripping the blanket someone had draped over me.
"I-I'm sorry," she said shakily. "Stiles told me not to wake you up, but…"
"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it." I pulled the blanket off, shuddering as I sat up. I crossed my legs underneath me, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Lydia actually laughed. She shook her head, turning away from me and clasping her hands in her lap and avoiding my eyes.
"Okay," I conceded. "Stupid question."
She didn't say anything for a while, staring down at her white knuckles in her lap. When she did speak, her voice was small. "They won't let me see him."
"Maybe that's not a bad idea, Lydia."
"No, you—you don't understand. I have to see him. He's been asking for it back over and over again, and I have to give it back to him. I have to give it back."
Lydia shifted her fingers, letting a small strip of gold slip between them. It was just a peek, but I didn't need to see anymore. I hadn't lived with Lydia very long, but I'd seen that flash of gold enough times to know what it was. It was always peeking out of the neck of Lydia's shirts, just out of sight, like my dog tags. My silver dog tags, and Lydia's golden key—the key she wore on a necklace in case she ever had to go to Jackson's house.
She rubbed a thumb over the base, and I could feel my heart breaking for her all over again.
"Oh, Lyd…"
Lydia held the key up to the light. "He wanted it back. He didn't want me to have it anymore."
"Of course he did." I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, scooting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. I pulled her to my side and leaned my head against her. "I know the past few months have been hard for you, and for Jackson. For all of us really. And a lot of things changed. But I know that Jackson would want you to keep that. He gave it to you for a reason. And, if nothing else, you know he wouldn't want to take the chance he'd ever be forgotten."
Lydia snorted, weakly slapping my leg with the back of her hand. I grinned.
"Come here. Let me help you."
Gently, I pried the key loose from her hands. I pushed her hair to the side to reveal the gold chain I knew she would still be wearing on her neck. After a little fumbling, the clasp came undone, and I was able to slide the key back to its rightful place.
Lydia reached up and grabbed it again, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. The tension began to leave her shoulders, and for the first time in hours, she actually looked calm. She smiled. "Is it stupid if this actually makes me feel better?"
"No. That's what you're used to. Not…any of this other stuff."
She kept her grip on Jackson's house key, but one hand reached over to grab one of mine. I weaved our fingers together and gave a soft squeeze. It felt like a stupidly tiny motion of support, but I wasn't sure what else to do. Lydia just squeezed my hand back, and for a few minutes, we stayed that way in silence. Until…
"Do—Do you think that he…he ever really…?"
"Yeah."
I had my answer prepared. I'd been waiting for her to ask that question for a while. Really, it had been a few months, ever since Jackson had broken up with her before formal. But back then, Lydia hadn't been able to talk about Jackson because she was still pretending she was too strong to care, too strong to have let him hurt her feelings. After that, I'd gotten caught up in fighting the Alpha in Beacon Hills. After that, Lydia had gotten caught up fighting the Alpha in her head. Something always seemed to be interrupting us. But this time, I was ready.
"Jackson had a real messed up way of showing his feelings, to anyone. He was always trying to show everyone that he was perfect, he was worth it, he was unstoppable. I think you're one of the only people that every really understood that it wasn't just because he was an asshole, but…he was scared. And I don't think that's an excuse, necessarily. I mean, he definitely had a lot of issues he had to work on, otherwise he wouldn't have become the kanima. But you guys understood each other, you know? And as much as I joked around about hating being around you guys, I think you were good for him. You saw a lot in him that the rest of us didn't, and…I know he loved you. Every way he could."
Lydia nodded. She seemed to accept my answer, but she still had a far off look in her eyes. "I was talking to Allison, that night everyone tried to break into Scott's house. She was talking about Scott, and how hard it was to be away from him. Like she couldn't breathe until they were together, and she couldn't wait to get down the next hall to see him. And I remember thinking…I—I don't know if I've ever felt like that. Not with Jackson…not with anyone. We—We were never like Scott and Allison. We were never like you and Stiles."
"No. You guys were you." I smiled, nudging her in the ribs with my elbow. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Jackson would be relieved to hear that he never acted like Stiles."
"Shut up," she laughed. She ran a finger under her eyes, wiping away some more of her smudged eyeliner. "Besides, your boyfriend is a complete freak, but I guess his heart is in the right place. Exhibit A…" She gestured vaguely to the pile of gifts by Stiles's dresser.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure at least a third of that is yours. You could go browsing if you wanted a distraction."
"That depends. Which one of us did he buy the television for?"
"Um, no. I call dibs on the flat screen."
We both giggled, momentarily safe from all the destruction outside. It was good to see her smile after such a stressful day. But the day wasn't over yet.
"Hey, I couldn't find any tissues, but…" Stiles closed the door behind him, holding up a roll of toilet paper, and then stopping short. He stared at us in shock. "Oh, you're—you're up."
"It's fine," I said, waving off his concern. I untangled my hand from Lydia's, pushing my hair back and beginning to search the sheets for my phone.
"I know you said not to wake her up, but I was so worried when she didn't answer her phone."
"No, I'm sorry, Lydia. I shouldn't have fallen asleep. I mean, I had my sound turned on so if anything happened I would wake up. I don't know what's…" I paused, finally spotting my phone on the shelf at the head of the bed. I tapped the screen a few times, but nothing happened. No matter how hard I jabbed my finger, the screen stayed resolutely black. "Um…my phone's off."
"Your phone's dead?" Lydia asked incredulously. "Now?"
"No, it can't be. It was charging right until we left for the game." I grabbed my phone, holding down the power button resolutely. Sure enough, the screen came to life. "No, it was just off. I—I don't know how that happened."
Lydia peeked over my shoulder, watching as my phone finished booting up. And then it started ringing. Three missed calls from Lydia, two unread messages from Lydia, seven unread messages from Scott, two missed calls from Isaac, three missed calls from Scott, another missed call from Lydia…
"What the hell?"
My phone continued to ring incessantly, and I almost missed the second beeping. Stiles took a step toward the bed, but Lydia had beaten him to it. She swiped his phone off his side of the bed, glancing at the screen. "You've got 17 missed messages from Scott."
But Stiles didn't say anything. His shoulders sagged a bit, and he dropped his chin down to his chest.
Finally, my phone became silent. I glanced down at all of the missed calls and texts—from Lydia, from Scott, from Isaac, even from Derek—and then looked at the defeated Stiles in front of me.
"Stiles…what did you do?"
"Sadie…"
He looked up at me, his face torn with desperation. But even if he was desperate, his tone was the same cautious placating Deaton had used on Lydia's birthday. It was the voice of someone talking down an angry animal, someone asking for them to calm down. I wasn't going to stay calm.
"No. Stiles, did you turn my phone off?"
Stiles deflated as I stood up, and started shaking his head. "There's nothing you can do for them."
"Oh my God. Oh my God, I can't believe you!"
"Sadie, they don't need us, okay? They don't need you."
"Really?" I asked, holding up my phone. "Cause that's not the story I'm getting."
"Look, Scott has a plan. He's gonna be fine."
"Right, cause our plans have always worked so well in the past. He needs back up."
"You realize we're human, right?" He was actually glaring at me now, obviously furious even as he tried to keep his voice down. "Okay, you know what we're up against? A family of completely psycho murder-killers, armed to teeth, and you can't heal. Neither of us can. It's too dangerous out there for us."
"We've dealt with hunters before."
"Sadie, look at my face!" Stiles rushed forward. He jabbed a finger at his cheek, leaning in until it was almost impossible for me to focus on anything else. "You see this? Gerard did this without a single hesitation, and that's without all—all the weapons and the guns and the crossbows. If we go out there, he's not gonna hold back again. I'm not letting that happen to you."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment. I knew what he was trying to do. I knew how scared he was, how scared we both were. He was just trying to protect me. But I couldn't just sit back and wait for something terrible to happen.
Slowly, I took a deliberate step back from him. "You don't get to decide that, Stiles."
He stared at me, shocked for a moment, heartbroken, and then the anger broke through to the surface. He let out a hollow laugh.
"I don't get to…? Ha! Alright! Okay! Remember how scared you were an hour ago? Two hours ago? When I was the one that went missing? That's what you want me to feel? While you're—you're off playing the hero, fighting the good fight?"
"No, of course not! I want you to come fight with me! Just like we always have! Together!"
"Right, so Gerard can kill me this time? Just to teach you and Scott a lesson?" Stiles shook his head, pursing his lips. He took a few steps back toward the door. "Nah, I'm not doing that. I'm not doing that to my dad again. I wasn't gonna do that to you."
I glared. "So what? You want to stay here? While—While Scott and Isaac and Derek go up against them alone?"
"They're all werewolves! Okay? What don't you get about that? They have super-speed, and super-strength, and super-healing, and we don't! They don't need our help!"
"Like Jackson didn't need our help?"
Stiles stopped, glancing at Lydia who was still sitting on the bed. He went to wipe a hand down his face, and winced as he touched his own tender injury. "Look, Jack—Jackson's different."
"No, he's not. He had super-speed, and super-strength, and super-healing, and he didn't have backup. And it got him killed. I'm not gonna stand by and let Gerard kill someone else tonight."
"And I'm not gonna let you walk out of here to get yourself killed."
We stared at each other, now on opposite sides of the room. I knew he was prepared to do anything to stop me from leaving. We were both stubborn that way. But which each passing second, Gerard got closer to Scott and Isaac. I couldn't stay here and wait while they were in danger.
I decided to give Stiles sixty seconds. If he didn't, I was just going to have to fight my way out. I hadn't gotten very far in my self-defense classes with Allison, but I knew enough to take down an untrained human that got in my way. Or I could take the easy route and make just enough of a racket to send Mom and Mr. Stilinski running upstairs. That was probably the safer option.
Before I could open my mouth to call my mom, another trilling rang through the room. Lydia jumped a bit on the bed, staring down at Stiles's phone in her hand. She seemed surprised to find that she was still holding it. But any surprise quickly changed to utter shock. She hesitantly held out her hand.
"Uh, I…I don't mean to break this up, but…I think you're gonna want to read this."
Stiles and I both grabbed for the phone. Thankfully, I was closer.
I grabbed it out of her hand and quickly turned my back in case Stiles tried to wrestle it from me. The screen had lit up with another text from Scott. I opened the message without waiting for permission, scanning the few messages Stiles hadn't read. And then I stopped breathing.
"Stiles, please answer me. We think we know how to save Jackson. Derek says that Jackson's losing his identity, but Lydia can help him find it again. We have to do it before he finishes transforming. Call me ASAP!"
I felt the phone being snatched from my hands, but at that point I was too shocked to care. Lydia was up on her feet, grabbing my hands and practically vibrating with barely contained hope.
"He's—He's not dead? Jackson's not dead?"
"I don't know, I don't…No. He's fine. Jackson's—Jackson's okay."
Lydia's legs nearly collapsed underneath her. She threw herself forward, hugging me tightly and resting her forehead on my shoulder. After all our tears, all our worrying, Miraculous Jackson Whittemore had found a way to cheat death. I would have laughed if I wasn't so relieved. He wasn't dead. He wasn't gone. We still had a chance to save him.
"No, he's not 'okay,'" Stiles corrected sourly. "I don't know if you got a chance to look at the rest of these messages, but he's not just not dead. He's evolving like a goddamn Pokémon into something at least ten times worse."
Lydia pulled back from out hug, looking over at Stiles in surprise. "Worse?"
"Yeah, worse. And I don't know about you two, but I'm not exactly looking forward to finding out what's the next level up from personal hitman were-lizard."
"But we still have time." Lydia's head whipped around, her eyes wild but hyper focused. "Scott said that it has to be before he's done transforming. But if he hasn't evolved yet, that means we still have time, right?"
I nodded. "We have time. But we have to hurry."
"How much do you know about this stuff?"
Lydia and I looked over at Stiles. He seemed calm enough, his tone casual, but the stark change made me leery. He raised his eyebrows at Lydia, waiting for her to answer.
"Everything," she said quickly. "Sadie told me everything last week."
"No, not what has she told you. What do you know, Lydia? What do you understand about any of this?"
"Don't talk to her like that," I growled, but Lydia didn't seem bothered by his response.
"Pieces. Everything makes a lot more sense now than it did before. But everything that happened between Peter…half of it just feels like a dream."
"Yeah, well, guess what? The other half is like a freaking nightmare."
"I don't care. I can help him. That's all I need to know."
Stiles stared at the two of us, momentarily speechless with exasperation. He seemed almost betrayed that Lydia wasn't trying to stop me from leaving—Lydia, who everyone had believed was too fragile to handle the truth, who had only been let into the loop a few days ago and was already ready to jump in and help. She wasn't going to lose Jackson a second time.
"Stiles, if he's not dead, then we have time to save him," I said gently.
Stiles shook his head. "If he's not dead, it means he's back to being Gerard's puppet. And now he's even more dangerous. If anything, Jackson being alive is the number one reason you should not go out there."
"No. If Gerard's still controlling him, then Scott, Isaac and Derek are in even more danger. They can't take Jackson alone. If it means helping them and saving Jackson, it's a risk we've got to take."
"No, it's not!" Stiles buried his face in his trembling hands, his knuckles rapidly turning white. He paced, turning to round on us every few steps. "See that's—that's the problem. You don't care about getting hurt. Neither of you do! But do you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. I mean, Gerard punched me a couple times just to shake you up. Next time it's gonna be worse. He could—He could kill you, and then—then I'm not gonna know what to do with myself, okay?"
"And you're not gonna feel like that if Scott dies while we're hiding in your bedroom?"
"Sadie, you don't understand!" He practically spit out each word, storming up to me and grabbing my wrists. "Sadie , you're—you're different. I was in the basement, thinking about how I was never gonna see you again, and I am not gonna let you walk out there and get yourself killed. Because if you die, I'm—I'm not gonna be able to function. Do you get that? Because death doesn't happen to you, Sadie. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives without you in it! Why don't you get that?"
I'm not sure how long it took Stiles to realize his mistake. It might have been that the words processed in his brain just a little too slowly. It might have been the fact that I didn't snap back at him. It might have been the fact that all the anger that was welling up inside of me managed to reach my eyes before it reached my mouth.
Stiles dropped my wrists, and took a few quick steps back. "Oh my God, I'm—I'm sorry."
"You think I don't get that? You think that I don't get that?"
"Sadie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"
"I just buried my dad, Stiles! I just lost one—one of the most important people in my life, and you want to tell me that I don't know what it's like to grieve? That I don't know what it's like to worry about someone? I have spent the last year in complete, and total agony, dragging myself through every day trying to figure out how I'm supposed to finish growing up without my dad! I have felt so empty that I wasn't sure I was even really living anymore! Because I don't know how I'm supposed to keep living my life without him! And even after all of that, I have been running around Beacon Hills, trying to help you guys and stop you from getting yourselves killed. How many times have we almost died, Stiles? Hm? And you think I don't worry about what that would do to my mom? Every time I leave the house? It would break her. It would—It would absolutely destroy her, but you know what? I do it anyway. Because if there's one thing my dad taught me, it's that protecting people is worth the risk. Sitting by and staying safe while people are dying isn't good enough. And if you think that's a stupid lesson, then…then you're not the person I thought that you were."
Stiles couldn't meet my eye. He stared at me, his eyes downcast to my waist, full of regret and guilt. But I was beyond the point of caring.
"If you don't want to come, then fine. But Lydia and I are going to go save Jackson. I'll let you know how it all turns out. I'm glad you're okay, and…congratulations on the game."
I grabbed my things, took Lydia's hand, and walked out of Stiles's room. This time, he didn't try and stop us. He didn't even say anything. The only response I got was a dull thunk that came from his room as Lydia and I made our way down the hall. Judging by the resulting breaking sound, he'd hurled his phone at the closed bedroom door.
Mom and Mr. Stilisnki were both sitting at the dining room table when we walked in. The sheriff had cleared two spots at the table by stacking some of his folders into towers of paperwork, and they each had their hands clasped around a pair of mismatched mugs. They were talking lowly, clearly in the middle of a solemn discussion. It ended abruptly as Mom looked up at me in surprise.
"Hey, sweetheart. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I just think Stiles could use some rest. It's been a really long night."
"I think we could all do with some rest," Mr. Stilinski agreed with a rueful smile.
I mirrored him, my expression hollow. "We didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to stay, you can, Mom. I'm gonna ride in Lydia's car."
"Oh, Sadie, I don't know if that's…"
"Neither of us should be driving alone, right?"
Mom hesitated. I knew Lydia and I in the car together was one of the last things she wanted after everything that had happened. But even she knew that both of us in the car was going to be safer than just Lydia driving alone. Since we'd found Stiles, I should have been a bit more level headed. She wasn't about to split us up.
"Um, yeah, that's fine," she said, deflating. "But you call me as soon as you get home. I want to make sure you girls got there safely."
"We will, Miss Claire," Lydia assured her. "Thanks for having us, Mr. Stilinski."
"Not a problem. Thank you for all your help. I don't what I would have… Well, I'm just glad we found him."
"Yeah." I nodded. "Me too."
Lydia squeezed my hand, saying another goodbye before she pulled me toward the door. She walked me all the way to the passenger door, opening it for me and running around to the driver's side. Once she'd shut the door, she turned to me with her sad eyes. "Sadie, I am so sorry. I never meant for you two to…"
"It's not your fault. I would have found out eventually. I wouldn't have stayed here while everyone else was fighting."
Lydia nodded, tightening her hands on the steering wheel. "Did Scott say where we were supposed to meet him?"
"I'm not sure. But go home first. There's some stuff I want to grab."
The car ride was fairly silent. I could hear Lydia occasionally muttering to herself at stop signs, or when we got stuck behind slower cars. I was reading through all the texts Scott had sent me while I was asleep. That he was sorry for not texting me earlier, but Peter was alive. That they had found Stiles, and did I know where he was. That I needed to pick up my phone. That Jackson wasn't dead. That I really needed to pick up my phone. That he was sorry for always telling me I wasn't allowed to tell Lydia the truth but could I please tell her the truth now because we needed her help to save Jackson and he didn't have her phone number.
I sent him a quick response, telling him what had happened to Stiles after the game, and that Lydia and I were on our way to meet them at the warehouse he'd mentioned. Scott replied almost immediately.
"What about Stiles?"
For the moment, I elected to ignore it.
"Great," Lydia groaned as we pulled into her driveway. She glared at the other car. "My mom's back from the hospital."
"It's fine. We'll figure it out. Come on."
There was no way to dodge Mrs. Martin. She swooped down on us as soon as we walked in, all hugs and kisses and how are you's. I had a feeling the only reason she was back from the hospital was because we'd decided to leave the Stilinskis'. Mom wanted us watched. And if there was one thing Natalie Martin was good at, it was watching people like a hawk.
"How's Stiles? Is he okay?" she asked me, patting my shoulder.
"He's gonna be okay. He just got roughed up by some sore losers from the other team."
"God, you know, people are so violent these days. It's just a game. But boys will be boys."
"Mom, stop supporting the limiting ideas of misogyny. Sadie and I are going upstairs. Night!"
Lydia was up the stairs before her mother could ask what she'd said wrong, and I had to hurry after her. She led the way to my room, and I shut my brand new bedroom door behind us.
"Nice job," I said, cracking a grin.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "You just have to know how to shut her down. Honestly, 'boys will be boys'? What are we doing up here, anyway?"
"We have to suit up."
There was a beat as Lydia stared at me blankly. "I can't tell if you're being serious or if you're just being a nerd. Either way, I'm not changing."
"Fine," I huffed. "Ruin the dynamic duo. I am changing though."
I shed the few sweaters I had put on for the game, opting for black jeans and a leather jacket. I tried not to think about how I'd done the same thing the night we had killed Peter, putting on Kate's clothes, her mentality, her persona. But the outfit was functional. That was the point. I could wear black without being Kate.
It was hard to keep that in mind as I kneeled in front of my closet. I pushed aside the shoes I had let pile up, unearthing a large black case that was underneath them. I slid it out with some difficulty, plugged in a combo on the handle, and heard the satisfying click as the lock opened. When I lifted the lid, I heard Lydia gasp behind me.
"Oh—Oh my God. That's…Oh my God, Sadie!"
"What? I told you about my gun."
"Sadie, that is not a gun! That is several guns! And bullets and knives and—and oh my God, Sadie! Why do you have all of this?"
"This was Allison's birthday gift for me."
"She got you a bunch of guns for your birthday?"
"Yeah," I answered, pulling two guns out and setting about finding the appropriate magazines. "I know how that sounds, but what with everything that goes on in Beacon Hills, we thought it might be a good idea to be prepared. I've been heavily lectured and thoroughly briefed on the safety and risks entailed."
"So…when you and Allison were talking about 'teaching Stiles a thing or two'…?"
"We were talking about guns, yeah."
"Of course," Lydia sighed in exasperation. She kneeled next to me, peering inside the case with morbid interest. I felt the nervous glance she sent at me. "Who exactly are you planning on shooting tonight?"
"I'm not planning on shooting anyone. But if Jackson gets out of control, I have to try and keep him in check. You don't have to worry. He's stronger now, and I've already seen him take multiple shots to the chest without getting hurt."
"No, I know. That's not…exactly what I'm worried about."
"Well I'm not going to kill anyone."
"I know, but…are you going to hurt her?"
I paused as I was checking over one of the handguns. I didn't have to ask for clarification.
"Only if she tries to hurt someone else. Allison's in a lot of pain, and I get that. But I can't let her kill Derek, or anyone else for that matter." Lydia nodded, but she didn't seem very reassured by my answer. I did my best to smile. "Besides, Allison's the one who trained me. She's a lot better at all of this than I am. I doubt she'll give me the chance to hurt her."
"Yeah, that doesn't make me feel any better."
"I know." I pulled a few small knives out of the case and reached for the lid. I waited a moment, smirking at Lydia. "Did you want to grab anything for yourself?"
"Uh no. I'm fine, thanks."
I locked the case up again, pushing it to the back of my closet and burying it under my shoes once more. Then I grabbed a backpack, carefully stowing the guns inside along with the knives and holsters. Watching me pack everything up, another thought seemed to have suddenly struck Lydia.
"Not that I don't understand the need for this whole G.I. Jane thing, but how exactly do you plan on explaining a bag full of weapons to my mom?"
"I don't."
"Okay? I know I said that you needed to just shut her down and keep walking, but I don't think that logic applies to a backpack full of loaded guns. You can't just say nothing."
"I'm not going to tell her anything because she's not going to know, and she's not going to know because we're not going out the front door."
"We're not?"
I walked around my desk to the window, sliding it open and peeking out into the backyard. I shoved the bag over the window sill, watching as it slid down the short stretch of roof and then tipped over the edge. It landed in the back bushes with a muffled thud, admittedly a little louder than I would have liked. But it was better than the gun going off, anyway.
"Oh no," Lydia said, shaking her head wildly. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I'm down for whatever supernatural craziness we need to deal with to save Jackson, but I am not jumping out the window."
"Come on, Lydia. It'll be fun. Remember that time Ally did it before the game?"
"Yes, I do! And I also remember how she said she had gymnastics training, and how you and I decided to take the stairs!"
"Seriously, how hard can it be?"
Before Lydia could stop me, I grabbed her car keys from her hand. I climbed up onto the window, slipping my feet out onto the roof and sliding the rest of my body after. The roof wasn't at a great angle for supporting my weight after I climbed out. I clutched onto the window behind me, looking down at the grass that suddenly seemed much too far below me. But I didn't exactly have any other choice.
Without any of Allison's grace, I leapt off the roof. I tried to propel myself as far beyond the bushes as I could, and let my legs collapse beneath me to absorb the shock. That didn't really work. Pain shot up my legs as if my shins were splintering on contact, and my knee felt dangerously close to dislocating. I gasped, hoping above everything that the air going into my lungs would stop any sound that was trying to come out. My eyes watered, and I pressed my face into the grass, waiting nervously.
As poorly as the jump had gone, it looked like it had done the job. Miss Natalie hadn't come running out of the house to investigate the noise, and judging by the way I could still wiggle my feet and bend my legs, I hadn't actually broken anything.
Very gingerly, I got to my feet. I grimaced at Lydia, who had her hands clasped over her mouth above me. "See? Piece of cake."
It took her a few seconds to respond. But when she finally managed to unstick her hands from her face, all she managed was, "You are a complete lunatic."
"Don't be so dramatic. Just lock the door, grab Jackson's key, and get down here."
"Sadie, I cannot jump from this window!"
"Fine! Then you can figure out how you're gonna explain your little outing to your mom, and meet me in the front. I'm gonna go start the car."
I snatched her keys from the grass, then headed over to the bushes to grab my bag. I hoisted it onto my back and brushed off my jacket and pants. The added bonus of dressing in all black was that it was impossible to tell whether or not I had any grass stains from wiping out on the lawn. Satisfied that I was put together, I walked across the lawn. I made it to the corner of the house before I heard the soft "oof" behind me.
Lydia landed just about as hard as I had, but she managed to roll out of her squat. Her hair pointed in several different direction as she stood up, glaring and marching defiantly toward me. She adjusted her white sweater and rubbed vigorously at the pale, green spot on her side. I grinned.
"See? This is why you suit up."
"Give me my damn keys."
I sniggered as she ripped the keys from my hand, and followed her around the side of the house to the front yard. We had to run down most of the driveway, and ducked behind Lydia's car in case Natalie happened to be watching the windows. I peered through the car, trying to check if the coast was clear. If I had to guess, Natalie would probably be upstairs at this point, loitering in the hallway and trying to overhear whatever conversations Lydia and I were having in my room. That, or she was calling my mom with a status update.
"Shit," I grumbled, leaning my forehead against the car. "We forgot to call my mom."
"No we didn't," Lydia said. "I called to let her know we were heading to bed right after you swan dived off the roof."
"Lydia, have I mentioned that you're a genius?"
"Thank you. But that's not our only problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Your boyfriend's coming."
I whirled around. Sure enough, a bright pair of headlights was cruising down the street, the blue Jeep materializing behind it a few seconds later. It stopped in front of the next house over, tucked behind the tall hedges that separated the yards. As if that was going to hide him from the two of us. Idiot.
All semblance of discretion forgotten, I stormed down to the street. Stiles was already climbing out, but I grabbed him by the shirt. I ripped him the rest of the way out of the car and slammed him back against the Jeep, too angry to care that he winced.
"What part of 'you can't stop us' don't you understand, Stiles?"
"Look—whoa, hey! I'm—I'm not here to stop you!"
"Right. And you're hiding in the bushes because…?"
"Because I didn't want Lydia's mom to see my car. Is that okay?"
I frowned, slowly releasing my grip on his shirt. He brushed himself off as Lydia caught up with me, looking slightly alarmed.
"Stiles, what are you doing here?"
"Well, as far as our parents are concerned, I'm giving Sadie her sweatshirt." He held up a worn lacrosse jersey, his name and number emblazoned in white on the back.
I cocked an eyebrow. "That's not mine."
"It is now," he said with a shrug. He pushed it into my hands. Then he took a deep breath, the kind he always did before he rattled off a well-practiced speech. "Look, you were right. About everything. Scott's my friend, and I can't let my fear of losing you stop me from supporting you. Cause you're always there to support me. I know—I know that a lacrosse game isn't exactly the same thing as a supernatural shoot out, but… You deserve someone who had your back. I was being a huge dick before, everything I said, everything I did, and…I'm sorry, Sadie. I don't want to lose you, because you're pretty incredible. You know you're human, and you still keep putting yourself on the line to protect people. You're probably the bravest person I know, and I know I'm not even close to deserving you. And…if I'm lucky enough to have a hero for a girlfriend, the least I can do is give her backup."
I frowned at him, kneading the sweatshirt between my hands. I was still mad at him. Turning off my phone had been crossing a huge boundary, especially since there was so much at stake. But at the same time, I'd forgiven people for things just as bad. But my anger wasn't the only thing that bothered me. It was the fact that Stiles thought he didn't deserve me. After everything we'd done together, he still felt beneath the rest of us, like he would never be as good as anyone else. My anger and sympathy were wrestling back and forth—one side wanting to comfort him while the other felt pretty justified in saying that after all the shit he pulled he had a right to feel that way. But even thinking that thought made me feel sick.
I must have stayed silent for too long, because Stiles cleared his throat. "Uh, that all sounded a lot better in my head. The sweatshirt was supposed to tie in with the whole support and lacrosse thing, but I got mixed up because I gave it to you at the beginning. I could—I could start over if you…"
"Okay, we don't have time for this," Lydia huffed. She waved a hand frantically between our faces. "All good, okay? Tension broken. More important things to worry about. Stiles, are you coming with us, or not?"
"Uh…uh, yeah. I was gonna ask if you guys needed a lift."
"Great. Sadie, get in the car so that we can save Jackson."
Lydia didn't wait for a response. She hopped right up into the Jeep, climbing into the back without complaint. That in itself was a miracle.
Stiles turned back to me, still looking hesitant. "You ready?"
"Yeah. Uh…Thanks for coming back."
"Thanks for letting me."
I nodded, and did my best to give him a small smile. Then I gripped my backpack, and hurried around to the passenger side of the Jeep. Stiles jumped into the driver's seat, threw the car in reverse, and rocketed off the same way he'd come.
"Okay," he said, taking a shaky breath. "Okay, he said to meet them in the industrial district, right?"
"Yeah. You know where you're going."
"I know where I'm going. I'm just really hoping that there aren't any cops around looking to pull me over."
He gritted his teeth as he sped through a stop sign, driving about twice the legal limit. I heard Lydia whimper in the back seat.
"You talk to Scott?" I asked Stiles.
"Uh, yeah. Status update, I guess Allison's dad is working with us now?"
"What?"
"Yeah. He showed up at the hospital when Scott and Isaac where trying to make a getaway with Jackson. I guess he's starting to realize what a psychopath his dad is, cause he's driving the three of them to meet up with Derek."
"And they're just…okay with this?"
"They'd be able to tell is he was lying, right?" Stiles asked. He glanced over at my skeptical face, and nodded. "Or their family trains them how to control their heartrate, yeah. I thought the same thing. If there's one Argent there, I'm willing to bet it's not gonna be long before another one shows up."
"Good," I said, pulling one of the guns out of my bag and securing it in my thigh-holster. "We'll be ready."
"Sadie, you cannot kill our principal!" Lydia cried from the back seat.
"Look, no one's gonna kill anyone!" Stiles said, waving a hand. "Scott's got it under control. Let him worry about Gerard."
"You said he had a plan?" I asked.
"Yeah. You know how Gerard's always popping those old man pills? Well Scott switched them out the night we were at the police station. Filled em with mountain ash, so his blood's full of it."
"Okay…and this helps us how?"
"Scott thinks he wants the bite."
"The bite?" I repeated incredulously. "He thinks that the hunter who's spent his whole life chopping werewolves in half suddenly wants to see how the other side lives?"
Stiles snorted. "Not exactly. Scott said that Gerard was sick. He can smell it or something, I don't know. It was all pretty gross."
"And we just figured this out now?"
"Well, no. Scott said he's known for a couple months. Ever since Gerard stabbed him and threatened to kill his mom… I—I only found out recently though, yeah," he added quickly, catching the look on my face.
"Why the fuck didn't he tell us any of this sooner?"
"I don't know! He just—I don't think he had a plan until a couple weeks ago. Look, the point is that if Gerard does show up tonight, he's gonna make Scott make Derek give him the bite. Only it's not gonna work, because Gerard's full of mountain ash, so…problem solved. Now we just have to worry about Jackson."
I pursed my lips. There was a screech building up in my chest, clawing to be let out. I flexed my hands, and tried to push down the urge to punch something. Stiles was right. We had to worry about Jackson. But I wasn't sure how much more I could handle being lied to.
"When this is all over, we seriously need to sit down and talk about the basics of communication. All of us."
"Yes, you're—you're absolutely right. You're so right. We will."
The houses started to thin out the closer we got to the warehouse, lawns and homes replaced by dead grass and abandoned buildings. I finished locking on my holsters, keeping myself distracted by flipping one of the daggers in my hands. But it was impossible not to think about where we were going. Finally, Lydia asked the question we were all thinking.
"Do we actually have a plan?"
Stiles and I shared a worried glance. He probably had a better grip on the situation than I did, seeing as I had no idea what the full breadth of Scott's plan for Gerard was. But at his panicked look, I took the lead.
"Derek said that Jackson's struggling with his identity. It's part of the reason that he turned into the kanima instead of a regular werewolf. Is he Jackson or is he the kanima? Is Jackson the guy he is with the rest of the lacrosse players or the guy he is when he's with you? As long as he's still trying to figure that out, he's gonna keep turning into the kanima."
"Okay. And how am I supposed to help him remember who he is?"
"Because he's in love with you," I said simply. "When Scott first got the bite, he was always drawn to Allison. Being around her, hearing her, even thinking about her—it all helped him keep control. She was his anchor. And you're Jackson's."
"Yeah, except Jackson's not gonna know that," Stiles pointed out. "I don't think Matt or Gerard got a chance to sit him down and explain the whole anchor thing to him. We can't just push her out of the car and hope he can lock it down."
"I know, but… There's a myth that the given name of a werewolf can turn them human again. If you can recognize them in their transformed state and name them, then you're giving them their identity back. So the rest of us will hold him off, and Lydia will try and remind him of everything he meant to her. I think that's our best chance. Does that make sense?"
I turned around to look at her. She still looked frightened, maybe even more now that we were getting so close to the action. Still, her nod was solid. She pulled the chain off her neck again, sliding Jackson's house key into her hand. I watched as she flipped it between her fingers, just as I had been playing with the knife. I hoped it was giving her a little more comfort than the dagger was giving me.
A screech ripped through the air, and I spun back around in my seat. We were in the middle of the industrial buildings now, only a few turns away from the warehouse. I glanced over at Stiles. "Did you hear that?"
"What do you mean did I hear that? How on earth could I possibly not have heard that?"
A set of roars followed, and Stiles slammed his foot on the gas. We lurched around the last few corners, Lydia and I holding on for dear life. When the warehouse finally came into view, the Jeep skidded to a halt.
Everything had gone very quiet. That was either very, very good, or more likely very, very bad. Jackson was the only person I knew that screeched like that when he was transformed, and if he had already woken up, then our window of opportunity was closing rapidly. If Jackson had already taken down Scott, Isaac, and Derek, it might have already closed. I tried to push that thought aside, only to notice something much worse.
"Who's car is that?" I asked, squinting through the window.
There was a large black car hiding in the shadows of the building. At first, I'd thought that it was Mr. Argent's, but I had been over Allison's house enough to know what his car looked like. This car was bigger, with a sliding side door rather than the regular four-door that Mr. Argent drove. Still, it held the same formidable air around it. It wasn't hard to guess who it belonged to.
"Guess Gerard beat us here," Stiles answered darkly.
"You think the plan worked?" I asked.
"Who knows? I mean, if Jackson already woke up… Still, it's four against two."
"Three against three," I said. "If Gerard's here for Derek, then he brought Allison with him. She's the one calling the shots now. If they're both here, I'm not sure how long we can count on Chris being on our side. And Jackson's worth at least three in a fight."
Lydia looked cautiously between the two of us. "So what do we do?"
"We stick to the plan. Scott can worry about Gerard. We're here to worry about Jackson. If we don't get between the Argents and Derek, then Allison doesn't have any reason to shoot us…hopefully."
I slid one of my guns out of its holster, but before I could open the door, Stiles grabbed my arm.
"Wait…Do you trust me?"
I looked back at him. His eyes were earnest beneath all the bruising, and no matter how many times I'd answered that question before, he still looked nervous.
"Yeah. Of course I do."
"Okay. Then hold on tight."
"Why?" Lydia squeaked from the back.
But Stiles had already floored it. The Jeep went hurtling toward the warehouse, straight for the wall, straight for the thin exterior around the loading bay.
We crashed through the metal with a deafening crash, followed by a loud thud as we collided with something inside. There was another familiar screech, and all three of us were jerked forward in our seats. I held my breath, waiting for the car to explode or catch fire. But all I could hear was Stiles and Lydia panting next to me.
I pried my eyes open. We were certainly inside the warehouse, and for the most part, unharmed. I could see a few people dotting the room—Scott and Isaac near the opposite wall, Derek on the floor at their feet. They all looked as shocked as we were.
"Did I hit him?" Stiles asked, peeking over at me with one squinted eye.
I wanted to tell him that yes, he did manage to hit Jackson. But I was still so shocked that all I managed to say was, "Stiles…what the fuck?"
There was another bang, and all three of us screamed as Jackson jumped up on the hood of the Jeep. I threw the door open, jumping out gun-first and shooting Jackson in the shoulder. He screeched again, but seemed even less phased by bullets than he had before. Either his healing was almost instantaneous in this form, or his scaly skin was so hard that the bullets were bouncing right off. I didn't have time to observe which it was.
I continued to shoot at him, spacing the bullets to last while keeping them fast enough to keep him occupied. Lydia scrambled out after me, and then Stiles, still screaming all the way. I could hear his feet pounding across the floor behind me as he sprinted for the other side of the room. Lydia stayed behind me as I shot, both of us moving out into the open toward the front of the Jeep. The moment I heard my gun click, I dropped it. "Lydia, now!"
"Jackson!"
Lydia sidestepped me, moving in front so she could face Jackson on her own. Every fiber of me screamed in protest, and I had to fight the urge to pull her behind me again. Instead, I grabbed my second gun, pointing it at Jackson's head over Lydia's shoulder. He lunged forward, and I clicked off the safety.
"No! Sadie, don't! Jackson!"
She threw up her hands, holding the key out in front of her like a shield. And even though she was trembling head to toe, shaking so bad it was a wonder she was still standing, Jackson skidded to a hold.
I held my breath, keeping my finger on the trigger as Jackson's slitted eyes flicked from Lydia's face to the key in her hand. Everything seemed to have frozen. And still we waited. Jackson looked back at Lydia and blinked, and his eyes looked slightly less yellow. I thought I was imagining it, was sure that at any second he was going to change his mind and jump forward. But Jackson stayed still.
"S-Sadie, look," Lydia breathed. "It's—Is it working? Jackson?"
For the first time that night, something did seem to be working. Even as I watched, Jackson's dark green scales were fading, rippled plates disappearing into smooth skin. In a few seconds, half of his face had returned to normal, and after another blink, his eyes returned to their natural blue. The talon-laden hand that was poised to strike slowly dropped, and he plucked the key from her fingers with his claws.
Jackson's body was quickly shrinking back to its normal size. His tail disappeared, and the light scales that made up his underbelly morphed back into his muscular chest. He looked at Lydia again, and this time I was sure that it was the real Jackson underneath. He looked surprised, frightened, hurt. He looked over her tear-stained face and shaking body, and then he looked over at me, right down the barrel of my gun.
I stared at him, knowing all too well the guilt that was plain in his eyes. I could only imagine what he was feeling, coming to his senses and realizing everything he'd done. And as much as I wanted to help him, my fear held onto me. With Lydia standing between us, I wasn't going to take the chance of lowering my gun.
Jackson took a step back, and then another. I think we were all so shocked that the plan had worked that none of us wanted to speak. Not until Jackson spoke first. But Jackson never said anything. Instead, he stared at the gun I was pointing at his chest and held his arms out to the sides. I lowered the gun slightly, recognizing the sign of compliance. I just didn't recognize that the sign wasn't meant for me.
He looked over my shoulder and nodded slightly, and before I could understand what was happening, the world leapt back into motion.
Two dark shapes flew past me, pouncing on Jackson where he stood. With a sickening squelch, two sets of claws dug into his torso—Derek stabbing Jackson's stomach while Peter stabbed him in the back. They lifted him up in the air, letting him hang there as the claws sunk deeper, even as a grotesque gurgling noise was forced out of Jackson's throat.
It only took a few seconds to inflict the intended damage. Derek was an alpha, after all. Twisted as Jackson's transformation might have been, Derek was still his Alpha. It didn't take much to undo. Then Derek and Peter pulled back, leaving Jackson to stagger, bleeding and coughing, and collapse to the floor.
Lydia rushed forward to catch him, holding him close as he shook in her arms. Derek slowly backed away from them, looking shaking but resolute. It didn't matter that we had managed to save Jackson. Derek was still gripped by the same fear I was—that Lydia might not be enough to make Jackson whole. So he'd decided to kill him anyway. Just to be safe. Regardless of the cost. And Peter…
I saw the dark shadow darting toward the hole the Jeep had made in the mall. All the rage that had been building up inside me suddenly surged to the surface, and I locked eyes on my new target. Thankfully, my gun was already raised.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
There were a few pings and sparks as my bullets hit the walls and the rafters between us. And then the satisfying yelp as one of the bullets met its mark. Peter stumbled, roared, and jerked again as a second bullet hit him in the shoulder. His silhouette fell to the floor, melting to the rest of the shadows. I marched forward, shooting again but hitting only air. But I knew he was still there, hiding.
"Sadie!"
I paused as Lydia yelled behind me, the fear in her voice paralyzing me. There wasn't anything I could do for Jackson. Either he would heal from the wounds or he wouldn't. But Peter was still there, just within my reach. If I got to him before he crawled out…
"Sadie, please! He's—God, Sadie, please help!"
My hand shook as I pointed the gun outside. But I knew I'd already wasted enough time.
I dropped the gun, running back over to Lydia and kneeling by her side. Jackson was still coughing softly, supported completely by Lydia's arms under his own. I grabbed his face, marveling at the way they were still disappearing under my touch, and forced him to look at me.
"Hey, Jackson, no. Just keep breathing, okay? We did not drive all the way across town and bust through a wall just watch you die."
"Just to hit me," he breathed, coughing again.
"Yeah, that's it." I beamed, grabbing one arm and trying to get a better look at the cuts. There were still gaping, still bleeding as much as they had been when he'd fallen. "Okay, just—just keep breathing. The healing should kick in in a couple seconds. You're gonna be okay."
"Sade…no…"
"Come on, Jackass, don't do this to me, alright? Everything's fine. Jackson Whittemore's invincible, right? Right?"
Jackson's lips twitched, a smile marred by the gurgling that was getting louder in his throat. We both knew what was about to happen. I could see the acceptance in his eyes, had seen in even before Derek and Peter had struck. This was Jackson's choice. The only way he could be sure he wouldn't hurt anyone else.
I smiled as supportively as I could as the water welled up in my eyes. I squeezed his arm and then scooted back, trying to give him some space. Jackson's last moments didn't belong to me.
Jackson turned back to Lydia, his eyes following the tear that was rolling down her cheek. He swallowed thickly, trying to speak around the blood that was welling up in his throat. "Do you… Do you still…?"
"I do," Lydia choked out. She nodded frantically, rushing to get the words out. "I do still love you. I do. I do still love you."
I clamped my hands over my mouth as Jackson fell forward, leaning his head on Lydia's shoulder as all the living tension left his body. Lydia let out a clenched sob. She cradled his head, repeating the same words over and over again until they were unintelligible. And then for the second time that day, Lydia laid Jackson's still body back on the ground.
I was afraid to touch her, but Lydia came to me instead. She finally turned away from the body, twisting on her knees until she could fall in turn on me. I pulled her closer, a few of my quiet tears mingling with her hair as she sobbed into my chest. Everything we'd gone through. Everything we'd put Lydia through, explaining and coaching and holding onto our last hope. And in the end, it still hadn't been enough to save him.
I could hear the others talking tin the background, asking where Gerard had gone. I hadn't even noticed that he wasn't there in the middle of everything else. But it seemed like he wasn't something we had to worry about right now. Right now, my only objective was comforting Lydia, and making sure she got out of here safely.
She heard it before I did. Lydia tensed in my arms, lifting her head and turning around so she could see Jackson's body. I followed her gaze, noticing almost at once that all the blood had disappeared from his torso, all the gashes, all the scales. There was a soft scratching noise. And finally, I saw his hand dragging across the pavement, sharp claws creating dust as they moved.
Jackson's eyes popped open, and we all tensed as he sat up. I was terrified, rooted for the spot as I watched his face, waiting for the flash of yellow, the return of the reptilian slits in his eyes. But Jackson's eyes were now blue—brighter and bluer than they'd ever been. The irises were vivid, electric—just like Derek's eyes had been when I first met him.
Lydia and I looked up at him as he stood up, towering above us and silhouetted in the Jeep's bright headlights. He tipped back his head and finally—finally, finally—let out a deep roar that shook the supports of the warehouse. A roar, and not a screech.
The next instant, he was back to normal. He looked just as surprised as the rest of us, standing there and panting in the cold. Lydia rocketed out of my arms, throwing herself at him and grabbing him in a tight hug. He clamped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her hair. He was shaken, but he was breathing.
I let out a disbelieving laugh and flopped back onto the floor. It hurt when my head hit the concrete, but I was too relieved to care. We'd actually done it. Gerard temporarily out of the picture, Jackson redeemed to his rightful state, and everyone standing around the warehouse in shock—very much alive. We had survived.
I stayed on the floor, laughing like an idiot, until Lydia grabbed my arm to pull me up. She was giggling too, and yanked me onto my feet an into a bone crushing hug. When she looked up at me, her eyes were still teary, but she had a smile a mile wide. "Thank you."
"Hey don't thank me. That was all you."
"I know but, if you hadn't told me…"
"Lydia, I should have told you a long time ago. No matter what anyone else told me to do. Then you might have been able to save the day a lot sooner. I'm just glad you're both okay." I hugged her again, grinning at Jackson over her shoulder. "So? How's it feel to come back from the dead twice in one night?"
"Honestly? Really shitty." He walked over to us and laid his hand on Lydia's back. His touch instantly magnetized her, pulling her to his side again as she held onto him for dear life. "It's been a pretty fucked up night."
"Tell me about it," I said with a snort.
"But seriously. Thanks…Thanks for not giving up on me."
"Well…thanks for proving us right."
We smiled awkwardly for a few seconds, until Lydia lifted her head up from his side. She gave me a pointed look. "Sadie. Hug him."
"What?"
"You heard me. Hug him. He's been through a lot today."
"Yeah, you know, I would love to do that, expect Jackson's sort of naked right now, and that's—that's not something I want to be a part of."
"Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about," he said with a smirk. "I know I'm hot."
I rolled my eyes. "See? He's perfectly fine. Completely back to normal. I do not need—Lydia, no!"
But it was too late. She'd already grabbed my hand with a mischievous smile of her own. With one good yank, I went tumbling into their group hug. I squealed in protest, but with Lydia cackling next to me, it was hard to be mad. I hugged them for a moment, reveling in the fact that we even could be hugging. It was like it was the previous summer, before the werewolves, before the hunters, back when everything was normal. Except this time, of course, I had several knives strapped to my legs, and Jackson was a werewolf. And he was also naked.
"Alright, alright, I hugged him. Glad you're okay. I'm gonna give you guys some space."
I took a couple of steps back, putting as much distance between Jackson's body and my own as I could while Lydia started rambling about borrowing gym shorts from Stiles. Almost as soon as I turned away, I locked eyes with Allison.
She was standing on the other side of the room, her crossbow at her side, fumbling with one of the same daggers she'd given me. I could see the conflict written plainly across her face. She wanted to say something, but how did you start after a night like this? After everything you'd done?
Her father stepped up to her side, glancing my way and then shaking his head at her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and gently led her away, back toward his car which he'd parked inside of the building.
Even after everything that she'd done, part of me wanted to hear her out. I wanted to be her friend, and I always had. Another part of me bitterly wanted to hear what she had to say for herself just out of morbid curiosity. How exactly did she plan on apologizing for threatening to kill me?
"Leave it," Derek's voice said as he stepped up behind me. "It's a conversation for another day. She's been through a lot today."
"She's been through a lot today?" I echoed, watching as they climbed into their car. "What exactly happened?"
"Well, Argent drove Scott and Isaac from the hospital, and she showed up with Gerard just before Jackson woke up. Turns out Gerard wanted him dead just as much as we did, but Allison—she just wanted to kill me. Did a pretty good number on Isaac, too, right up until she found out Gerard was planning to kill her if Scott didn't force me to give him the bite."
I nodded. Mr. Argent's car revved to life, and smoothly pulled out of the warehouse. It left no trace behind, and stayed no longer than it needed to clean up any evidence of its presence.
"Yeah. Sounds about right. Is Isaac gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, he'll heal. Probably a lot faster than Peter will."
"Good," I growled. I could hear the disapproval in his voice, and it made me angry enough to start shooting again. "You should have told me he was going to be here."
"You wouldn't have brought Lydia. We didn't have time to argue."
"You didn't plan on using Lydia anyway. If we'd had it your way Jackson would have been dead anyway."
"Hey, it's only because we killed that part of him that Jackson's okay. It's not like love magically healed him from being the kanima."
"You're right. It was choosing to die instead of hurting anyone else. That's because of Jackson. Not you."
Derek deflated. I had a strong suspicion that he was just short of rubbing his temples. "Look, I'll admit I was prepared to kill him. I didn't want anyone else to die. But that doesn't mean I'm not glad he's okay. And as far as Peter's concerned, just leave him to me."
"I don't know. I kinda liked putting a couple bullets in him after everything he messed up in my best friend's head."
He snorted. "Yeah, somehow I'm not surprised. But—I don't know, don't you have finals to worry about or something? Take a week off. I can handle Peter."
"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Cause last I remember it took you, two hunters and a band of misfit teenagers to take him down."
"That's when he was an Alpha," he replied, narrowing his eyes at me. "Like this, I can take care of him. Just do me a favor, and worry about yourself for a little bit. Okay?"
"Sure, whatever, Mr. Alpha Hale."
Derek shoved me, but he was too gentle to really be mad. He looked across the room, calling out to his beta. "I'm going after Peter. Isaac, you know where to find me."
With a last pointed look at me—one that screamed "seriously please take care of yourself and leave the rest of this alone"—Derek ran out of the warehouse, pausing to do a well-executed front flip as he transformed on his way out. I rolled my eyes.
"Where are you supposed to find him?" Stiles asked as I joined their group.
"The old house, I guess," Isaac said. He shrugged feebly, but even the tiny gesture made him wince. I could see the slashes in his shirt from where Allison had cut him. Luckily, they already seemed to be healing, which meant she hadn't gone far enough to poison the blades. Still, Isaac looked at the daggers strapped to my legs with caution. "Just keep those away from me, will you?"
"How are you feeling?"
"Eh, I'll live. I don't know if I plan on getting within five feet of Allison ever again, but that's fine."
"You were incredible," Scott said, beaming unabashedly. "If you hadn't come back to help, we would have been dead for sure."
"Yeah, my pleasure," Isaac groaned.
I bit my lip as he shifted in discomfort. I tried to keep my heart rate level as I shot a side glance at Stiles before looking back at him. "What made you come back?"
Isaac cracked a grin. "Don't get a big head. I didn't come back for you. But…I was thinking about what you said about having a pack. You guys, Derek... Erica and Boyd are great, but I don't want to play third wheel the rest of my life. Plus, I got the bite because I wanted to stand up for myself, stop running from my dad. I didn't want to run anymore."
"You didn't," Scott said bracingly. "How's it feel?"
"Kinda nice," Isaac admittedly. "Still not looking forward to crashing at Derek's though. The Hale house doesn't really have any great amenities."
"You can stay at my place," Scott said. "At least until you heal. I'm gonna need some help explaining everything to my mom, anyway."
Isaac hesitated. "Sure, that…actually sounds kind of nice."
"Great," Stiles said, clapping his hands together. "Awesome. Glad we've got a plan and everything. But I'm not exactly sure how you plan on fitting everyone into the Jeep. Roscoe's not exactly made for a party of six."
"Four." Scott smiled, his eyes flashing a bright gold. He stood up, looking over my shoulder. "Hey Jackson! You up for a run?"
All of us turned to look back toward the Jeep. Lydia and Jackson were still wrapped up in each other, though Lydia seemed to have unearthed Stiles's gym bag from the back of his car. Jackson had on a familiar pair of basketball shorts, and a loosely zipped sweatshirt. He looked up when Scott called him, and it didn't take long for his look of confusion to fade into a wide smile.
"Yeah. I think I am."
"Good." Scott helped Isaac up to his feet, walking him over to the Jeep so he could ride with Lydia, Stiles and I.
Stiles looked over at me, and tentatively grabbed my hand. "Are you good?"
"Yeah." I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Let's go home."
A/N: God, it feels good to get this out. There's one more short chapter to this installment, just to tie up a few loose ends. That's where I'll write my gushy stuff about loving all of you for supporting me and reading this far, and hoping that you're still interested enough to read more of Sadie's adventures. I don't know how you guys are still reading when I've been writing for three years. I commend your attention span.
I'm probably going to wait until I square away the next project before I post the last chapter. I'll be doing a series of one shots to cover the summer between sophomore and junior year. All the chapters will be in other people's point of view, so it will be similar to The Other Side without rehashing things you already know. Otherwise, I might be persuaded to post the last chapter on Christmas, if anyone's interested in getting an extra gift.
Thanks again, and you'll hear from me soon!
-Brittney