I sat in the counselor's office, the sound of turning pages filling the room as Ms. Morrell flipped through the large packet detailing the restraining order Jackson had placed against me. I cleared my throat and sighed, my eyes glancing up at the ticking clock for the seventh time since sitting down.

We'd been in this position for about… fifteen minutes. Every now and then, a thoughtful hum would emit from Ms. Morrell as she read a particular line. She would highlight it, study it some more, and then turn the page again.

My patience was wearing extremely thin. Here I am, stuck in some office while my guidance counselor looked over a useless packet of paper detailing rules I had no intention of following, meanwhile Allison is out confronting the boy in question, and Stiles is out imploring Lydia to give us some answers! This is a waste of my time!

I cleared my throat again and pressed my palm into my chin. Ms. Morrell shook her head and turned another page. Sitting up, I peeked at the packet to see which page she was on. Only two more to go. She hummed and raised her eyebrows, running the yellow highlighter across the page for an entire paragraph.

Seriously. What could she possibly find so interesting? I sighed loudly enough to make my point, sinking down in the seat and making as much noise as I could in the process.

Ms. Morrell paused in her thorough analysis, her gaze focusing on me. "Almost finished," She said, for the tenth time. I smiled fakely at her and she returned to the packet.

Twenty minutes later, she finally, mercifully, closed the packet and put the highlighter down. Weaving her fingers together, she rested her hands on top the restraining order and focused on me with a smile. I drew in a deep breath and sat up straight.

"Let's talk about this… crush." She pursed her lips and fixed me with a knowing stare.

I licked my lips and uncomfortably cleared my throat, glancing at the clock again. "Oh… no."

Ms. Morrell raised her eyebrows. "No?"

"Yeah, nope, I don't think that sounds like something I want to discuss," I simply said, tilting my head almost challengingly at her.

"Well, Savannah, I understand that, but you know that this is something we're going to have to discuss, don't you?" She placed her hand on top of the restraining order with her eyebrows raised.

"Sure, let's discuss that then." I gestured to the packet and pulled my lips into a fake smirk. "I thought page thirteen was particularly restrictive. Wouldn't you say?"

Ms. Morrell stared at me for a beat more before finally bringing her hands back together and smiling again. Her expression actually made me uncomfortable because she seemed… unfazed by my usual tactics. She spoke slowly and clearly, pausing on a word every now and then for emphasis. "You told Sheriff Stilinski that the reason you and your friends kidnapped and restrained Jackson in the Beacon Hills Preserve in the middle of the night is because you have a crush on him. Is that… correct?"

I was desperately fighting back a laugh, the corners of my mouth twitching as I struggled to remain stoic. "Uh," I said, clearing my throat and swallowing another laugh. "W-When you say it out loud it sounds… crazy."

"Why are you lying?" Ms. Morrell prompted, apparently choosing the direct line of questioning.

I was careful to keep my face straight as I drew in a deep breath. "Well, you know, I wish I was." I swallowed roughly and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. "It's been… hard." I tried, arranging my features into some sort of emotional display I hoped translated to love-sick-teenager. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please." She sat back with slightly narrowed eyes.

"The whole thing just really got out of hand." It wasn't exactly a lie, per se. Ms. Morrell perked up, sensing the honesty in that, and sat forward a bit to silently bid me to go on. "It started out with trying to get him alone, you know? I guess—I guess we thought if we could get him alone, if we could get him away from everyone else, maybe I had a better chance of getting through to him." I shrugged a shoulder. "The van was actually just… a bad plan."

She seemed conflicted. On the one hand, in a sense I was being honest. On the other hand, this whole story we'd fabricated made absolutely no sense and was totally out of character for me. I don't get crushes. And when I do, I doubt I'd put two of my friends up to helping me kidnap him—especially since it's highly unusual for me to even have friends in the first place.

The truth of the matter is that the first time I told Sheriff I had a crush on Jackson, I'd been thinking on my feet. I knew I needed an excuse that would answer questions Sheriff didn't even know to ask, while also scaring him off of wanting to pursue the topic further. At the time it made the most sense. Now it's just a pain in my ass.

"Okay, clearly we aren't getting anywhere today." She shook her head and picked up the papers to stack them neatly.

I sat up in my seat, cautiously hopeful as she began to put her things away. "So… can I go?"

"Yes, I'll tell Sheriff Stilinski that you're holding your end of the bargain and attending the sessions."

I swiped up my bag and nearly leapt out of the seat, but Ms. Morrell put her hand up. I froze and looked back at her in annoyance.

"On one condition," she amended.

I sighed and blew my hair out of my face, collapsing back on the chair with a loud huff. "I knew that was too easy."

"Tell me the color of Jackson's eyes."

I blinked. She stared back at me with her head tilted, waiting patiently for my answer. My eyes narrowed and I lifted my chin at her. "…This is a test, isn't it?"

"It's a simple question. If you really do like Jackson, this should be an easy one."

I scoffed and rolled my jaw, looking at the clock again. What color are his eyes? Um, I think they're yellow with little black slits like a goddamn snake with arms and legs!

I huffed out a sigh and shrugged petulantly. "Blue."

She narrowed her eyes and watched me. I kept my face straight and eyebrows raised. I mean, they're probably blue, right? He's got that golden, all-American-apple-pie vibe going, so that usually means neat hair and blue eyes… right? Did I get it wrong?

"I'll see you next week," She said tightly, frustration clear on her face as she turned away to file the papers back into my folder. I smirked triumphantly and stood with a flourish, all but strutting out of her office.

I stepped into the hallway with my shoulders back and a satisfied, smug expression on my face. Now for my next order of business…

I closed my eyes and sifted through everything I could hear. There was the hall, filled with sounds of lockers and people laughing and yelling at each other. Farther down, I could hear printers running in the library and cafeteria ladies preparing lunch. Past that were sounds of shoes squeaking on the gym floors, and past that were sounds of…

"I have a restraining order!" Jackson bellowed somewhere deep in the locker rooms, followed by the frantic interception of Allison's higher pitched voice. It was tough for me to make out what was said, but I definitely heard Scott's voice and a resounding crash following closely after that.

My eyes snapped open and I bolted down the hall, dodging kids as I ran. I didn't have time to worry about being polite, or even the cameras that followed me as I sprinted down the steps and around corners. I pushed into a mass of kids gathered in the hall that led to the locker rooms.

"Move," I snapped, shoving someone to the side. They cursed at me as I stepped in front of them just as Mr. Harris was waving Allison's tablet around. Pushed against a wall of the hall was Erica, who still had her hands on Jackson's shirtless, wet arms as she seemed to barely hold him at bay. Beside Jackson stood Stiles. On the opposite wall leaned Scott, who had Allison lingering close by, and in the middle of it all was Mr. Harris. I looked back at Stiles and dashed up to him and threw him a questioning look, glancing briefly back at the scene in front of us.

He gave me a grim expression and shrugged a shoulder, smacking my arm as if to ask where I'd been. I shrugged and tried not to snap at Mr. Harris when he waved Allison's tablet in my face. "You," He exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," I said with my hands up innocently, sneaking a peek at Scott and Allison who were standing near the door of the locker room. Scott was panting just as heavily as Jackson was, and it wasn't difficult to fill in the blanks from there. Something had gone very wrong when Allison tried questioning Jackson, and Scott must have… intervened.

"You're involved in this somehow." Mr. Harris abruptly decided, wagging the tablet at me.

My jaw dropped and I threw my hands out, but before I could so much as protest he'd turned to Jackson and Scott and pointed at them too. "You two—no…" He swiveled around to look at all of us. "All of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

"But I didn't do anything!" I yelled.

"Yeah, and neither did I!" Said a guy I'd hardly noticed standing near us. He was the same one I met the other day in the library; the one who kept his journal from 2008 and left it on the table I'd sat at. I threw him a confused look, which he returned wholeheartedly, but before we could confront each other Mr. Harris jabbed the tablet in my face to get my attention.

"You are supposed have detention anyways!" He hissed, and I sighed loudly, running a hand over my hair. "This is not a request." He turned to look at each of us in the face to drive his point him. "You're all going to show up, on time, to the library. Or else risk earning yourself a regular scheduled detention, like Ms. Carmichael here."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, letting my head fall against the wall in exasperation.

He fixed all of us with a lingering glare, daring us to speak one more word out of line. When we all brooded silently at him, but didn't offer another complaint, he tucked Allison's tablet into his bag. "You can get this back when you show up today." And with that, he strode away.

"Well that can't be good," I muttered. He has the information we needed now. I looked back at Allison with an apologetic shrug, and she shook her head before turning her attention onto Scott.

"Hey," Stiles whispered, and I took a moment to squint at the guy from the library (he pretended not to notice as he pulled his own tablet out of his lame book bag that looked more like a purse slung across his shoulders) as Stiles continued to whisper to me. "Bad news…"

"Who's he?" I jerked my chin at his retreating form, crossing my arms. "I don't like him."

Stiles glanced back to see the retreating form of Mr. Purse and whirled back around with his eyes wide. He took me by the shoulders, fixing me with a serious expression. "You are the answer to my prayers."

I snorted and scowled at him, shrugging his hands off. "Ew," I grinned. "What the hell?"

"Seriously!" He shook his head and sighed. "I thought I was the only one who got bad vibes from him! He's…" He squinted his eyes and watched the guy disappear as he rounded a corner. "There's something about him."

"He's hiding something," I nodded and crossed my arms. "You know he keeps journals from 2008?"

"What?" Stiles face scrunched up and he looked over at Scott almost in instinct, as if to ask him if he was hearing this, but Scott was preoccupied by a quietly whispering Allison.

I watched with a scowl as Erica pointed two fingers at her eyes and then turned them to point at me. She smirked as she backed away like she'd done something bad ass, and I clenched my teeth and focused on Stiles, trying to push her from my mind.

Stiles looked back at me and leaned in. "How do you know?"

"Because he just left one lying around in the library!"

"Oh, so you picked it up and read it?" Stiles flatly asked, crossing his arms in disapproval.

"It was a library." I smartly said. "Of course I read it. Dude, you're missing the point!" I smacked his shoulder and gave him a dirty look. "Besides, you would've snooped, too." Stiles shrugged to allow that, and I waved him off. "The point is, the only people who carry journals from that long ago when they're our age are stalkers and serial killers."

"Classic case of a psychopath." Stiles nodded nonchalantly, as if we had just casually decided where to eat for lunch. "I never trusted that guy."

"Mm." I nodded, jerking my chin toward a sopping wet Scott as he and Allison finally approached us. "You broke the restraining order, didn't you?"

Scott's feet were practically dragging the ground with shame, and Allison rubbed a soothing hand on his back. "It wasn't on purpose," He said.

"That's good," I winked, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "You should stick with that."

"He didn't mean to," Allison defended, her arms crossed uncomfortably. "Jackson provoked him."

"What happened?" Stiles asked, a concerned frown on his face as he looked at his best friend. "Did you find out about his parents?"

Scott sighed and ran a hand over his hair as we all turned to walk down the hall. "Not exactly… All I know is I was in the middle of trying to finish that test, and I heard Allison's heart beating like crazy." Allison ducked her head and I looked between them. "Next thing I know, I'm in the locker room and Jackson is standing over her without any clothes on."

My eyebrows rocketed and I paused mid-step, just before we ascended the stairs to go back into the hallway, and Allison quickly shook her head. "It wasn't like that. I was fine!"

"Hate to say I told you so," I muttered, earning a smack on the back of my head from Stiles. I snarled at him and he pointed a scolding finger at me.

"That doesn't matter," Scott growled. "I was wrong about him. He needs to be stopped."

I tilted my head incredulously at him. "Oh—so—now you want to go running to Derek?"

"He didn't say that!" Allison cried, and shook her head and looked at her boyfriend. "No one is suggesting that, right?"

Scott grumbled to himself and Stiles put his hand up. "Hey now," He said to Scott, his voice low in warning. "Let's not be rash, here—"

"Oh, my god," I covered my eyes with my hand and shook my head. "This is a disaster."

"Wait a minute!" Allison exclaimed. "No one is going to Derek!"

"I know that!" Scott finally sighed, practically pulling his hair out. "I just—I'm not sure what to do anymore!"

"The plan is still the same," Allison decided, leading the way up the stairs. "We have to find a way to stop him without…" She looked around the hall in paranoia before taking his hand in hers. "You know. It's the right thing to do," she insisted, her eyes frantically searching Scott's for any sign of hesitation. "Anyways, I should go," She turned to meet Scott's gaze. "My mom is going to be even more suspicious."

"I don't know how you're going to explain this one," I bluntly pointed out, earning another glare from Stiles that I promptly ignored.

Scott sighed and Allison shook her head again. "We'll figure something out. Let me handle my mom, you guys just—lay low for the rest of the day. And stay away from Jackson!"

Stiles' head whipped around to glare at me before I could even open my mouth. I broke into a grin and put my hands up, and he narrowed his eyes and finally looked away.

Allison did the thing where she held Scott's hand for as long as possible before letting go as she stepped away, and I rolled my eyes and gagged to myself at their 'subtle' display of affection as she left.

I sighed and turned to the boys with my arms crossed. "Well," I tilted my head at Scott. "I think we all learned something from this experience."

"Nope," Stiles futilely tried, shaking his head at Scott. "Don't take the bait—"

Scott tilted his head questioningly at me and I sighed smugly. "Never send a human to do a werewolf's job—"

"Oh no," Stiles rubbed at his eyes impatiently as Scott snorted, partly in surprise, partly in disgust.

He watched me for a few beats more before finally asking. "You're joking… right?"

"Yeah," I said unconvincingly. "Look, Allison's great. She's super sweet," I continued, the words sounding weird coming from my mouth as Scott threw Stiles a questioning look. "Her heart's in the right place. But we all knew Jackson was never gonna tell her what she needed to know. And now that we're finished with that exercise in futility, we should come up with a real plan about what to do."

"Allison isn't some incapable little girl," Scott frowned, crossing his arms at me.

"I didn't say that," My mouth tugged down at the corners and I raised my eyebrows as I looked at Stiles. "Did I say that?"

"Ya kinda did."

"Okay, well what I meant was Allison—" I shrugged my shoulders. "She tried to fight fire with rationality… and diplomacy, when what she needed was an extinguisher."

"That—didn't really clear anything up." Stiles shook his head at me and I sighed.

"You guys think the way to stop him is to—like—go back to the root of his problems. But what if that's not the answer?"

Scott shrugged at me. "What are you saying?"

"The fire has already started, okay? It started a long time ago, back before any of us were even around. It's too late to go back and move the candle away from the curtain."

"Stop with the flame analogy," Stiles said, gesturing to Scott's extremely confused face.

"We can't fix whatever happened to his parents," I finally clarified. "You guys know what I mean—we all have our issues with our parents." Scott and Stiles blinked, looking either down at the ground or down the hallway as they reflected on their own issues. "I mean, you said Erica told you that they died, right? Do you really think talking to someone who has no idea what you're going through is gonna magically take all that hurt and anger away?"

Stiles sighed and Scott shoved his hands in his pockets. "So what do we do?" Scott asked.

"I think we need to find whoever is controlling the Kanima." I said, a grim expression on my face.

"Extinguish the fire," Stiles realized, and I nodded at him.

"Great." Scott said, shrugging at me. "That sounds great. How do we do that though?"

I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "Investigate," I said, gesturing to Stiles. "This is your department, right? This should be right up your alley." I looked back at Scott. "We should watch him. See where he goes, who he talks to."

"We have a restraining order," Stiles frowned, crossing his arms. "What do you suggest we do about that?"

"Well I was just going to ignore it, but…" I admitted, earning identical reactions of exasperation from them.

"Of course you were," Stiles nodded. "That sounds about right."

"Look, we can discuss how to handle it later. For now, let's try to get through the rest of the day so we can reconvene at someone's house and come up with a new plan."

"Yeah," Scott sighed. "I should get to class. I don't want to give Allison's mom any more reason to hate me by flunking my classes."

"Well, it's good to have your priorities straight," I dryly quipped, but my sarcasm flew straight over Scott's head as he nodded and took off down the hall for his locker. Stiles and I exchanged an amused shake of our heads as we turned away and started towards English class.

"I'm gonna kill him," Scott grunted, practically frothing at the mouth as he threw another hateful glance back at Jackson. I think he's feeling particularly agitated because Jackson was seated so close to Allison, meanwhile the three of us are being forced to sit across the library at a separate table from everyone else because Jackson whined about his stupid restraining order. Again.

"No you're not," Stiles whispered, glancing briefly at me as if to implore me to chime in.

But I just found the whole thing extremely amusing. I mean, Scott McCall? Cool, compassionate, levelheaded Scott McCall practically jumping to rip a guy's head off? It's hilarious! I grinned mischievously and brought a thumb to my mouth, offering no help whatsoever to Stiles.

"Yes, I am," Scott growled, throwing some more shade at Jackson who was just sitting casually at his table. Actually, if anything Jackson was sitting as far away from Allison as possible, his chair pulled out from the table slightly as he slouched in the opposite direction.

"No, you're not." Stiles insisted, waving his hand in Scott's face to catch his attention. "You're going to find whoever's controlling him, and you're going to stop him. Without killing him."

I threw up an approving thumb and winked at them, and Scott shook his head.

"Nope, I changed my mind. You were right, let's kill him."

I snickered and Stiles sighed tiredly, sitting back in seat and muttering under his breath. Scratching my cheek, I looked over at their table again and focused on that guy from earlier.

He sat at the table with a tablet in his hand, examining something on the screen closely. He whispered something that I didn't catch and Allison's head snapped up to give him a disturbed look. I raised my eyebrows at her reaction and tilted my head, studying his body language.

He seemed to tilt his tablet away from Allison after that, almost as if protecting whatever was on his screen from her sight. Probably more journal entries. I snorted bitterly to myself and Stiles looked down at me.

"What?" He whispered, and I squinted my eyes at the kid.

"Look at him," I murmured, and Stiles followed my gaze. "What do you think he's reading?"

Scott perked up and turned too see who I was talking about. "Who, Matt?"

I drew in a breath and narrowed my eyes even more. "Matt?" I scoffed. "His name is Matt?"

The kid turned at the sound of his name and looked around with a frown on his face, trying to spot whoever said it. His eyes stilled on me and his eyebrows drew together when he caught me staring at him.

"What's wrong with his name?"

I shook my head with a sneer, "Nothing, I just hate him."

Scott snorted in surprise and couldn't help but grin in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Look at him," I murmured, as I narrowed my eyes at Matt. He frowned deeper and looked back down at his tablet, glancing up at me every now and then. "He can't be trusted," I said dramatically, only half joking.

"Wow," Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "This is where you get that reputation for hating everyone, isn't it?"

"I don't hate everyone." I rolled my eyes and looked back at Scott. "Just most people."

"Oh, good," Stiles smartly quipped with a nod. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Careful," I slid my eyes over to him and raised my eyebrows. "You don't wanna be hated by me."

Stiles sighed and sat back with his arms crossed, his eyes now on Matt. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't trust him either."

"What? Why?" Scott asked again, though with less amusement.

"I don't know…" Stiles murmured, watching as Matt opened a bag of potato chips and popped one in his mouth. "There's something about him, you know?"

"He gets it." I jerked a thumb at Stiles from the side and Scott threw both of us weird looks.

"You guys are too paranoid."

"What if it's him?" Stiles suddenly suggested.

"Ooooh, that's good," I snapped my fingers at Stiles and nodded enthusiastically. "I like it, I say we run with it."

"Wait, slow down you guys," Scott cautioned, leaning forward to talk quieter. "What proof do you have?"

"He still keeps his diary from 2008," I nodded gravely at Scott, who just shook his head at me like I was crazy. "He keeps it on him." I continued. "Like, always."

Scott frowned and lifted his chin thoughtfully, glancing back at Matt.

"That's not all!" Stiles insisted. "This whole thing comes back to the video, right?"

"Video…" I prompted, my eyes squinted questioningly.

"Oh," Stiles leaned over to me. "The video that Jackson took of himself on the night of the full moon."

"Oh yeah," I laughed, nodding my head. "Weirdo."

"Well, Danny said that Matt was the one to find two hours of footage missing from the tape."

"Exactly!" Stiles quietly exclaimed. "He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."

I snapped my fingers again and pointed at Stiles, and then back at Scott. "It's a conspiracy."

Scott paused and turned to look at Matt again, and we watched as he shook the bag of potato chips and held it out to Jackson. Jackson snarled his lip up distastefully and gave Matt a dirty look, and Matt shrugged and took another chip.

"So Matt made Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of the Argents' hunters, and the mechanic?" Scott frowned skeptically.

"Hmm," I dubiously hummed, drawing my thumb across my lip at the same time that Stiles proclaimed yes.

"Why?" Scott asked.

"—because…" Stiles grappled, glancing back at Matt. "—he's… evil."

"Psychotic," I corrected, and Stiles snapped his fingers at me and nodded eagerly.

"Psychotic." He nodded at Scott and we turned to look at Matt again, watching as he tipped the bag of potato chips upside down over his mouth and shook it to catch every last crumb, dropping some down his shirt.

"Hmm." I blinked, drawing my lips down into an uncertain grimace and shrugging at Scott. "No?"

"No." He shook his head at us and grinned crookedly. "You guys are psychotic."

"All right," Stiles muttered, crossing his arms as he sat back. "But I still don't like him."

Scott breathed out a laugh and shook his head. Suddenly, Jackson stood from his seat and grabbed his bag. "Are you okay?" Matt asked, and I narrowed my eyes at them as Jackson hurried towards the door without answering.

"Hey, you alright?" Mr. Harris asked a rare display of genuine concern. "You don't look so good…"

"I'm fine," Jackson tightly dismissed, shaking his head as he rushed to the exit. "I just gotta go to the bathroom," he hurriedly explained before leaving the library.

I raised my eyebrows as Mr. Harris came out from around the desk and pointed at all of us. "No one leaves their seats," He warned, and I snorted quietly.

Mr. Harris then left the library. During detention. The door had barely shut behind him and Scott and Stiles were out of their seats. My eyes bulged as they quickly slid into chairs beside Erica, and as Scott spoke to her, Stiles craned his neck to catch my eye and gesture me over.

I quickly shook my head and abruptly stilled as Erica glanced over at me hatefully, my eyes flickering back to Scott and Stiles. Erica turned back to them and said something and Scott exclaimed something unhappily.

I sighed and knocked my knuckles against the desk before standing to walk past them with a quick little salute, winking at the agitated Erica as I strolled up to Allison's table and joined her and Matt.

I narrowed my eyes at Matt briefly, but turned my attention onto Allison and gave her a smile. "What's up, buttercup?"

She smiled cautiously back and me and I saw her gaze flit back to her boyfriend and Stiles. "Mr. Harris never gave me back my tablet."

"Oh, you—" I tilted my chin down and gave her a meaningful look. "You want it back?"

"Well—wait a minute," She hastened to say as she caught onto what I was suggesting. "I'm sure he just forgot—"

"Say no more!" I stood out of my seat and rubbed my hands together, a mischievous grin crossing my face. "That tablet is as good as yours."

"Whoa, what's she doing?" Matt asked Allison, and I snapped my head down to look at him.

"Eat your potato chips, dough boy," I growled.

"Savannah," Allison gasped, and Matt recoiled in embarrassment. Ugh! What a fake.

"Matt, she's joking—" Allison threw me a scolding expression as Matt seemed to consider her words. "She didn't mean that."

I raised an eyebrow and turned back to the desk Mr. Harris had been sitting at. Lifting my boot, I started towards the desk.

"Well I still don't think we should be stealing from the teacher," Matt said, fixing me with an uncomfortable gaze.

I tilted my head and squinted my eyes at him, opening my mouth before Allison could speak. "It's not stealing if it was hers in the first place." I took a step forward and leaned down slightly. "Here's a tip: mind your own business, Matt."

He sighed and looked down at his tablet. "Whatever," He muttered.

Allison seemed tired of dealing with me as I sat back up and gave her my best can you believe this guy, expression. I shook my head and glanced at the door Mr. Harris had disappeared through as I made my way up to his desk.

Stiles tried to catch my attention when I passed, but I waved him off and ignored Erica's hard glare as I passed them, turning back to wave off Scott for good measure. As I approached the desk, I peeked back at Allison and saw her fixing me with a nervous expression.

I took in a breath and frowned down at Mr. Harris's seat. On the desk in front of his chair was a stack of papers, marked up in red. Apparently he was grading last week's lab. My eyebrows raised and I paused, reaching down to leaf through the stack.

On top was Greenberg's—it'd been marked with a bright red D minus. I clicked my tongue and flipped through the stack, blowing past the unfamiliar names. When Lydia's came up I noticed she had a perfect score and rolled my eyes. I sighed and continued through, spotting Scott's. C minus. I glanced over to the door, which seemed firmly closed, and then briefly back at the boy in question. He was hunched down and speaking with Erica and Stiles, and I felt a surge of unbidden affection swell through my chest when he scrubbed his hand over his hair.

I sighed and reached down to pick up the bright red marker that still lay uncapped near the papers, quickly swiping a line down the middle of the grade and turning it to a C plus. I pursed my lips and tilted my head. Oh well. It'll have to do.

I flipped through some more and changed a few more grades, making some worse, and some better. If it was someone who'd recently been a dick to me, I kicked them down a letter grade. When I saw Isaac's I actually marked him up a couple letter grades, turning a D into a B. Stiles' was changed from a C minus to a B plus, and I glanced up and caught Allison furiously motioning me to hurry up.

I smirked and dropped the papers, trying to rearrange them in the exact position they'd been when I got here. I grimaced and hesitated with the marker, trying to recall if it'd been tilted to the left or to the right when I picked it up.

I quickly decided on one and threw a glance back at the door before reaching down to root through his bag.

Since I'd done quite a bit of damage to his graded labs already, I decided to skip sabotaging any of his other folders he had in his bag and just snatched Allison's tablet out. I held it up and wagged it triumphantly at her and she flapped her hand violently, silently willing me to get out of there.

I was going around the side of the desk when the door opened and a sweaty, completely wrecked Jackson pushed through, followed quickly by Mr. Harris, and I abruptly dropped to the ground with a hissing curse.

Scrambling back, I clutched Allison's tablet to my chest and huddled, hidden by the corner of the desk when he looked over the room and strode forward.

"Well, let's see here," Mr. Harris said, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I mentally cursed myself as he paused and I peeked over the desk. His back was to me, his hands on his hips as he faced the rest of the room. I took the opportunity to swipe a book off one of the nearby carts and jammed Allison's tablet inside. "By my count, we seemed to have lost one of you."

I growled lowly and tried to figure out how to play this.

"I'd like to say I'm surprised, but given who it is I'm really not."

Still crouching on the ground, I peeked around the corner of the desk and waited until he was facing the complete opposite direction until I scrambled out from behind the desk to duck within the shelves of books.

"There's no sense in defending her," He was saying as I quickly and quietly moved along. "You're only making it worse for yourselves. So give it up. Where is she?"

In my head, I was screaming at Erica and Matt to keep their filthy mouths shut. I knew they'd be the first to rat me out, given the chance, and I peeked through the shelves to take a scan around the room.

Erica was smirking delightfully, reveling in my apparent failure, and Matt seemed to glance periodically between Allison and Mr. Harris. Otherwise, they both kept quiet, and I frowned in confusion. Weren't they going to rat me out?

"Come on." Mr. Harris said. "She left, didn't she?" No one said a word. Mr. Harris shifted in agitation. "It would be wise for you to tell me now, so that you don't suffer any repercussions when she's found." They all stared at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"You know," Stiles suddenly spoke up, and I whipped my head around to glare at him. "I think I might have heard something about—"

"Ah, yes!" I came strolling out from the stacks and waved the book in my hand around. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." I paused and pointed at him. "And then you came back, and it was the worst of times."

"Ms. Carmichael," Mr. Harris all but grumbled. "You're still here."

"I was just reading up on my boy Charles Dickens," I said, waving the book around. "He uses a shocking amount of parallelism. Sort of how you use a shocking amount of sarcasm."

"Take a seat, Ms. Carmichael." He pointed to the seat at the table where I'd been sitting. Scott and Stiles were no longer there, but honestly I think Mr. Harris just really has it out for me and he could care less if they're sitting with Erica now. "You've had your fun."

I smirked to myself as I sat down at the table and patted the cover of the book secretively. He has no idea.

About fifteen minutes later, Mr. Harris was flipping through the labs, and Scott had been called to the office. I sighed and shifted in my seat, listening to Stiles and Erica as they quietly deduced more about Jackson's parents.

Jackson himself looked like a train wreck. He sat in his chair, hunched over, arms crossed and jaw clenched, with sweat coating every inch of his exposed skin. It was the most out of sorts I'd seen him since… since ever.

I turned around as Mr. Harris zipped up his bag and seemed ready to leave. Sighing in relief, I stood from my seat and stretched my cramped muscles. Everyone else took note and followed suit, gathering their things to leave.

"Oh," Mr. Harris laughed as he came out from behind the desk and stopped by some of the large carts of books. I froze because the only time Mr. Harris has ever laughed is at the expense of his students. "No, no… Yes, I'm leaving. But you are all staying here until every one of these books is shelved." He patted two of the carts that were nearly overflowing with stacks and stacks of novels, a smug expression on his face.

I threw my head back and groaned, and Mr. Harris laughed some more. He wagged his finger at me with a large smile as he turned to leave, shaking his head and chuckling as he pushed out of the library and told us to enjoy the rest of our evening.

"God," I growled. "That guy is the worst. Seriously, what crawled up his ass and died!?"

Everyone began putting their things back on the desks and I quickly looked to Stiles.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, my hand out. "What are you doing?"

"You heard him," Stiles unhappily said, gesturing to where Mr. Harris had gone. "We've got books to shelve."

"Seriously?" I whined, and turned to look at all the people who were still here. Jackson, surprisingly, didn't have much to say on the matter as he stood over a desk and gripped his bag, and Matt shook his head at me as he started towards one of the carts.

"Look, I already covered for you once today. Okay?"

I narrowed my eyes at him as he went to wheel a cart towards some shelves.

"None of us are leaving until these books are shelved." He finished.

I helplessly turned back to Stiles, my hands up as I waited for him to back me up, and then Erica spoke up.

"I'm not getting stuck in another detention with you losers." She grumbled. "I have more important things to spend my time on."

I rolled my eyes and her and sighed in defeat as Stiles and Allison also grabbed a cart to push towards the shelves. "Sorry," Allison said, and I waved her off.

Ugh. I approached Stiles as he picked up a book off the shelf and began to flip through its pages. "It feels wrong to be doing the right thing," I complained, and Stiles glanced up at me.

"Yeah?" He mused. "Well you should get used to it. You're with the good guys now. And that means we have a chronic addiction to doing the right thing."

"Crap," I muttered, drawing an amused smirk from him. Allison came back to retrieve more books to shelve, and I held the one in my hand out to her. "Here. It better be worth it, I almost got another week of detention over this stupid thing."

"Thank you," Allison earnestly said, fixing me with a genuine smile. "You didn't have to do that."

"Eh," I waved her off and sighed as I slapped the book shut and tilted my head at the cover. "It gave me an excuse to drive Mr. Harris a little more crazy. At this rate, I'll have him checked into Eichen House in no time." I gave her a tiny smile and she blinked at me like I was disturbed.

"That's the spirit," Stiles dryly commented, patting my back.

As we went to shelve some books and bantered, Scott finally returned from the office. When we asked him what they wanted, his face turned red and he glanced over at Allison before quickly telling us it was nothing and not to worry about it. I exchanged a strange look with Stiles and we shrugged at each other.

We gathered in our second huddle of the day, and as Stiles began to whisper about what he'd managed to find about Jackson's parents, I realized that this is what a pack is meant to be. This is what Stiles meant all those times he called it a democracy.

It's always been difficult for me to imagine, and impossible for me to even understand, but now that I'm here and I'm participating, it's amazing to me that there was ever any other way of doing things. Derek ruled his back with an iron fist. He made sure that we were doing exactly what he wanted—even if he had no idea what he actually wanted to do.

Scott is the opposite sort of leader. If he's unsure, he isn't afraid to ask for our opinions. As we find more things, he keeps all of us informed on what's going on. He doesn't simply spin in a circle until his finger lands on something and pretend that he's making the right choice, as it sometimes felt like Derek was doing. He takes the time to ask us what we think, and he listens to what we have to say. It really feels like I'm working with a team here.

Because even though I've made my opinion perfectly clear on what I think of trying to find out more on Jackson's parents, the others seem to think its important. And whether it's the right move or a waste of time, Scott is giving it the attention that he thinks it deserves. And who knows? Maybe it'll turn out to be useful information after all.

"So was it an accident or not?" Allison whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Stiles shrugged and shook his head. "The word all over the report is inconclusive."

Stiles sighed and nodded and Scott leaned in. "His parents could've been murdered?"

"Well if they were then it falls in line with the Kanima myth." Allison frowned at him in confusion. "You know? Seeks out and kills murderers."

I took a deep breath and sighed, and Allison paused with her eyes scrunched. "But for Jackson, or for whoever's controlling him?"

I raised an eyebrow at that particularly ominous question, and Stiles nodded to me. "What do you think? You've been disturbingly quiet."

I looked away and tried not to grin. "Well… you guys know how I feel about Jackson's parents."

"So you think this whole thing is a waste of time?" Stiles concluded, as if waiting for me to refute that.

I made a face and shrugged awkwardly, and Allison frowned and shifted. "If we can find out what happened to Jackson's parents, we might be able to help him."

I glanced over at Scott and was about to become brutally honest with Allison when Scott suddenly turned to maneuver around the cart. "What are you doing?" I asked, and Scott shrugged his shoulders at me.

"We have to talk to him."

"What?" I hissed, and turned to Stiles for help.

"Wait—dude—hold on,"

"We have to tell him," Scott insisted, and I clenched my hands into fists to keep from swiping at him to physically stop him.

"What makes you think he doesn't already know?" I hissed, and he ignored me as he rounded the corner of the bookcase.

I turned back to Stiles and threw my hands up, and Stiles reached out to grab my arm before I could follow Scott and drag his ass back over here. "Let him go," He said, and I was about to argue when there was a loud crash and the lights flickered overhead.

Stiles and I locked gazes moments before books went flying off the shelves and sparks came raining down from the lights. Stiles threw me down just as hunks of plaster fell to the ground and the bookcases wobbled dangerously. An entire shelf of books fell out of the bookcase over top Stiles and I, and came sailing straight for my legs, and they crashed into my knees as Stiles tried to drag me away a beat too late. I let out a gasp of pain and Stiles and Scott hollered my name.

I pulled at Stiles' hands where they grasped my waist, gently pushing him towards Allison and crouching over both of them with my claws already out. I growled in my throat, partly because of my pain, and partly because Scott yelling my name could only mean one thing.

He called out for Erica shortly after and I pushed them back when I heard her scream out in surprise. The sharp smell of novocaine reached my nose and I whipped around to look down at Stiles and Allison in concern.

My heart pounded in my chest and adrenaline pumped through my veins as Scott suddenly came into view. He was backing away from a shifting Jackson who was half-covered in scales. His eyes glowed bright yellow and the black slits flashed dangerously as he let out a feral snarl and pushed Scott backwards as hard as he could.

Scott sailed into a cart of books and I leapt to my feet to help him up. He yelled at me to get back, and once he was on his feet again I turned to look at Jackson. He stood by a chalk board I hadn't even noticed was there, facing away from us, and before I could even take a step towards him Scott took me by the elbow and dragged me back to Stiles and Allison.

Stiles grabbed my hand and pulled me down by him and I wanted to protest, but the look in all of their eyes told me not to do anything stupid. So I grit my teeth and turned back to Jackson.

He seemed possessed as he stood in front of the chalkboard, his body turned towards the windows as he lifted his arm and began to scribble out some seriously sloppy letters.

I clenched my fists and inadvertently squeezed Stiles' hand, and he glanced at me briefly and squeezed back. I felt my heart sputter as I pretended not to notice and watched Jackson's every move—just waiting for him to try something.

But he didn't. He finished spelling out redrum on the chalkboard and turned to face us. I frowned and squinted to read the message through the haze of dust and flying sparks.

Stay out of my way

or I'll kill all of you

I sat up straight and was about to get to my feet when Jackson suddenly turned away and took a running leap for the windows, hopping on top of a bookcase that leaned against a wall before crashing through one of the windows and disappearing outside.

We waited for a few breaths to see if he was about to come back, or if anything else was going to happen—you know, like if the library would be flooded with blood or if two twins would ride out of the rubble on tricycles.

But nothing ever happened, so we slowly got to our feet and stepped out from behind the bookcases. Scott and Allison went to take a closer look at the chalkboard, but Stiles turned around and dropped my hand as he rushed forward. "Oh—hey, hey! I think she's having a seizure," He exclaimed, scrambling to crouch over Erica and turn her on her side.

I frowned as I slowly approached a shaking Erica, flailing helplessly on the ground. After seeing all of the sass she has, after experiencing the true force of her fierce attitude when she was turned, it was surprisingly unsettling to watch her seizing on the ground.

Stiles slid his hand under her back and gently lifted her off the ground when she finally grew still. I crouched down beside her and frowned at her sweat-coated skin and Stiles looked up and me and Scott, who had also come to stand next to me.

"We need to get her to the hospital," He said, and Erica grunted out a protest.

"Derek," She managed, and Stiles frowned down at her. We awkwardly paused and I raised an eyebrow as Stiles looked back at Scott. "Only to Derek."

"Uh, when we get her to the hospital—" Scott started, and Erica interrupted him again.

"Derek." She persisted, though it caused her obvious pain to do so. "To Derek," she finished with a whisper, and I rolled my eyes backed away a little.

"Go," Allison said. We turned to see her through the gaps in the bookshelf, crouching over an unconscious Matt. Scott suddenly got to his feet and quickly rushed to join her, and Stiles called out after him in exasperation.

I reached out to take Stiles' shoulder and shook my head at him. He stopped mid-sentence and sighed before relenting, and Allison continued to encourage Scott to leave.

"No, you need to go," She said, though she didn't exactly sound happy about it. In fact, she sounded a bit hysterical, and Scott shook his head stubbornly. "He can't carry her on his own and she needs help. And I have to call an ambulance for Matt."

I took in a breath and before anyone could suggest otherwise, I stood and ignored Stiles as he called out for me. "No, you guys should take her to Derek. I'll stay with Allison and help Matt."

Scott turned to look back and me and then grabbed Allison's arm in concern. "Are you sure?" He whispered as I stepped through the rubble to join Allison's side.

She nodded at him and told him to go.

"I-It doesn't feel right," Scott said. "It doesn't feel right to leave you here, are you sure?"

"I've got her, Scott," I waved him off and nodded at him. "She's going to be okay. Go."

He nodded at me with a thankful expression in his eyes, and I waved him off before he could say anything mushy.

Scott kissed Allison's forehead and I glanced away to see Stiles watching me with a troubled gaze. I nodded and him and he pursed his lips and looked down, nodding briefly back at me.

I sighed and turned my attention down to Matt as Scott stood and went to help Stiles, picking up Erica off the ground and leading the way out of the library.

After they left, Allison and I took a moment to breathe and checked Matt for any obvious signs of injury. We found a bloody spot on his head, and I looked at Allison and told her to go call the ambulance.

Thank you for all the support and reviews last chapter! :) It really encourages me to hurry up and write more.

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