Chapter 36

Skye didn't sleep that night.

Instead, she lay awake for hours, feeling terribly alone and empty. The bed felt too big without Derek's warm body next to her, without his reassuring presence and the calming sound of his breathing, but also too small as his scent was still lingering in the pillows where he had slept the night before, filling out the room and almost suffocating Skye with its intensity.

At last, just short of five o'clock, she gave up trying to sleep entirely and instead downed two cups of pitch-black coffee before starting to clean and double-check all of her weapons, something she always did when she was restless. It was repetitive and dull but it kept her busy and that was all she wanted, because otherwise she was sure she would go mad.

By the time there was nothing left to possibly be done, it was only half past eight and Skye was itching to shoot something. Not necessarily to wound or even kill, just to feel the satisfying power of the shot echo through her body as the bullet left the gun. She had half made up her mind to go to the forest and just randomly shoot at trees when someone knocked on her door.

Skye instinctively let a few sparkles flare up between her fingers before heading toward the door and taking a look through the peephole. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw a familiar lanky kid, accompanied by an also familiar redhead, standing outside the door. She wasn't sure if she could've handled a visit by Derek right now.

As soon as she opened the door, Stiles raised one eyebrow. "Woah, you look like shit." he said instead of a greeting.

Skye couldn't find it in herself to be offended. "I feel like it too." she only said dryly before opening the door completely. "Come in."

Stiles marched in as if he had been in her apartment in dozen times, followed by Lydia, who looked rather uncomfortable. Skye didn't bother asking how they had found out where she lived. She had the impression that Stiles was pretty resourceful, and having a sheriff for a father probably came in handy as well.

"What can I do for you?" she asked as soon as she had led them into the sparsely furnished living room.

To her surprise, it was Lydia who answered. "We – well, I actually need to tell you something."

Skye raised one eyebrow. She had a bad feeling about this. When a banshee announced that she needed to tell you something with that kind of look on her face, it couldn't be good news. Honestly though, she couldn't think of a lot that would be worse than what she was already facing.

Lydia cleared her throat. "When I had the vision about the Scavengers coming here, I saw something else too. I saw you."

Skye suddenly felt numb. She knew where this was going, she knew it without a doubt – banshees weren't called messengers of death for no reason – but still she forced herself to smile and ask sarcastically: "What did I do, totally save the day? Because that would be the kind of prediction I could really use right now."

The redhead slowly shook her head. There was sincere sympathy in her eyes and also a hint of frustration when she said quietly: "No. You died."

Her chest felt too tight and she had to fight for breath. Of course, she had known perfectly well what Lydia was going to say next, but hearing it said out loud suddenly made it frighteningly real. A banshee had seen her die. Skye hadn't had a lot to do with banshees so far, but the few she'd had contact with because of their ties to the Gifted had never been wrong in their predictions.

She felt weirdly detached from what was happening around her when she said: "Well, that certainly complicates things. Did you see how it will happen?"

Lydia seemed completely taken aback by her reaction. She had probably expected her to cry, to freak out and frantically try to find a way to avoid her fate, and part of Skye wanted to do exactly that, but she wouldn't – couldn't – panic now. It wouldn't do her or the pack any good. She could feel Stiles' eyes on her as she looked at Lydia expectantly, but she avoided looking at him. She was afraid that the worry in his eyes might shatter her already fragile composure.

The banshee shook her head again. "No. I saw your face and then I just knew you were going to die. It's hard to explain."

"There has to be something we can do!" Stiles chimed in before Skye had the chance to reply. "We can't just wait what's going to happen. Just because you saw it doesn't mean it has to happen. We can still change it."

Skye felt a sharp twang of pain at Stiles' determination to find a way to save her life. It took all her self-control to focus on breathing and keep calm, to remain in the state where this all seemed like a dream, like it was happening to someone else. She gave a dry, joyless chuckle.

"Predicting death is usually the one thing banshees are exceptionally good at, Stiles." she said. "I'm afraid the only thing I can do is to try my hardest not to get myself killed. I've been pretty good at that so far, so maybe we don't have to worry." She didn't believe her own words for a second.

Stiles looked as if he didn't believe her either when he said: "But…" Skye interrupted him, forcing herself to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "There is no but, Stiles. We don't have a choice. I can't sit this fight out, because I'm the only one who can face Raina. I'll be fine."

For a few moments, Stiles stared at her defiantly, then the look on his face turned resigned. "Alright, I guess." he murmured. "We just… thought you should know." Lydia added, her eyes filled with a mess of emotions Skye couldn't quite read.

Skye almost scoffed. What good did knowing about her impending death do her? How did it make anything better that she now had hours to wonder how she would die? But of course, they had only meant to do the right thing, and so she pushed her frustration down and gave them another forced smile.

"I'll see you in the evening in the warehouse then." she said, her stomach filling with dread when she thought of it. "Be safe."

It was an obvious signal for them to leave, and Lydia turned towards the door immediately, but Stiles lingered for a while. He gave her a strange look and she had the feeling he was going to say something. When he did, his question took her completely by surprise. "Will you tell Derek?"

Skye's breath caught in her throat. She clenched her fists so tight she could feel her nail digging into her palms, and the pain helped her to stay calm. Would she tell Derek? It was probably best if she didn't. There was nothing he could do to change it, and she didn't want to put him through those extra hours of agony. Besides, they weren't exactly on the best terms right now.

"No." she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't either."

Stiles sighed. "You know, I'm pretty sure he's head over heels in love with you." he said. "He deserves to know." And then, before she even had a chance to answer, he was gone and the apartment door fell shut behind him.

Skye felt like she was going to throw up. Her chest was too tight, making gasp for air desperately, and her heart was beating so loud she could practically hear it. She knew what was happening. She was having a panic attack – she'd had quite a few after her family had died – but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

When she pressed her eyes shut, she could see Derek's face like it was burned into the insides of her eyelids. She remembered the pain on his face when he had told her about Paige and Kate and Jennifer and suddenly she realized that she would become another name on that list. She would break his heart once again and there was nothing she could do about it.

Skye wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, she sat crouched on the floor of her living room gasping for air, knowing that her breaths were numbered.