[3x13; Anchors]

"Okay, so, you go like this," Stiles instructed Olivia, a nimble string of blue yarn twisted between his fingertips. He flipped one bit of the yarn over the other and made a loop, quickly tying it into a knot.

Olivia copied him, rolling her own yarn, a deep emerald green, into a knot.

"Now you slip the needle in like so," Stiles demonstrated with Olivia following his movements. "Good and then you do this," he slipped the yarn through the fingers of his other hand and looped it through his first loop. "No, not like that. Like this…"

Olivia sighed in frustration. "Why do I even have to learn how to crochet, Stiles?"

"Because I know how to crochet."

"Why do you know how to crochet?"

"Because it keeps my hands busy," Stiles informed her as he kept working at his yarn. "Plus, you know we have to get these mittens ready for Cornelius before winter comes otherwise his toes will get cold."

Olivia turned away from Stiles, where he was sitting on his couch, and looked out the window. Out in the backyard, sat the T-Rex that had imprinted on Stiles like a baby duck, knocking around a soccer ball with his tail. Cornelius was gentle for his species, but when Olivia told Stiles that he should get a pet, she had expected him to pick out a dog so Sirius could have a friend to play with.

Unfortunately, all Cornelius wanted to do with Sirius was eat him.

"Don't let them in."

Olivia turned back to Stiles. "What?"

"Don't let them in. Don't let them in!"

Before Olivia could even begin deciphering Stiles' words, the doorbell rung.

Giving Stiles a bewildered look, Olivia stood from the couch and wandered into the Stilinski's foyer in order to answer the door. She was pleased to see that it was Allison.

"Al, come on in," she said happily.

"Thanks, Liv," Allison grinned back at her. "Do you mind if Kate comes in, too?"

Dark storm clouds rolled in over the horizon as Allison walked into the house, revealing Kate Argent behind her. The older blonde smirked evilly at Olivia as lighting crackled just a few hundred feet in front of the house, followed quickly by a deep roll of thunder.

"Goody," Kate wrinkled her nose in delight. "Another Hale."

Heart racing, Olivia quickly slammed the door shut in Kate's face. She stumbled away from the door, pivoting so she could run and tell Stiles about Kate, when the door rang once again.

"Don't let them in, Olivia!"

For whatever reason, Olivia didn't listen to Stiles. She turned back to the door, as if forgetting about Kate's presence behind it, and opened it. This time, it wasn't Kate at the door, but, instead, Scott. Crimson red eyes gleamed at her while the true alpha waited to be let into the house, a dribble of thick blood falling from his lips.

"Hi, Liv," Scott greeted her innocently; when he went to wave at her, she saw that his sharp claws had replaced his blunt nails and his palms were covered in more blood.

Olivia stared at him wide-eyed, her eyes darting behind him. On the sidewalk leading up to the Stilinski's house, laid Kate Argent. She was dead; her throat had been ripped out, along with most of her intestines. Her blue eyes were wide open and glazed over, staring at Olivia as if she was still alive and begging for the anchoram to help her.

"Scott, what did you do?"

Thwack!

Scott didn't get to answer her; an arrow sank into his chest from behind Olivia. Scott roared, his werewolf features blinking into appearance. She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she turned and spotted Allison, her crossbow gripped tightly in her grasp, pointing the tip of a new arrow straight at Scott.

"Get away from him, Olivia," Allison commanded, voice controlled and calm. "he's a monster."

"Olivia!"

Olivia's head whipped toward the living room, where she heard Stiles scream. She wanted to go to him, to run and get him out of there, but she couldn't. It was like her feet were glued into place.

Scott's growl caught her attention. He leapt at Allison, but didn't get far. Practiced and precise, Allison let go of her arrow; as soon as the sharp tip impaled itself into Scott's forehead, she was passing out.

…

She woke at once when the bed jostled violently and Stiles sat up from his pillow, panting frantically. She rubbed her eyes and blinked for a few seconds, trying to clear the blurriness in her vision, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

"Stiles?" she murmured quietly, worriedly, as she reached for him. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could feel the dampness of his sweat on the bare skin of his pale back. "Are you okay?"

When he didn't answer right away, still trying to catch his breath, she sat up and curled her arm around his waist. His skin was clammy and his face was pale, the usual redness underneath his mole-speckled cheeks absent.

"Sweetcheeks?"

Stiles sighed shakily. "Yeah," he grabbed her free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles gently. "I was just dreaming."

Olivia frowned. "What kind of dream?"

Stiles hesitated as he grimaced, the paleness of his skin stark against the pinkness of his lips. "It was weird," he said finally. "It was like a dream within a dream."

"A bad dream," she assumed.

He let out another shaky breath. "Yeah."

Olivia frowned and leaned forward slightly, kissing his shoulder blade. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Stiles said quietly as he turned toward her. His eyes narrowed at her suddenly, confused. "Wait a second…Livvy, what are you doing here?"

Olivia furrowed her eyes, ready to remind him that this was the bed they shared. It was then that their door creaked open. Stiles was immediately distracted by it, his body stiffening as he nervously glowered at the door.

He let go of her hand and then slipped out of her hold, stumbling off the bed.

"Stiles, where are you going?" now he was confusing Olivia.

"I'm just gonna close the door."

"You should leave it. Come back to bed, Stiles."

"No, no," Stiles brushed off her concern. "I should close it."

"Stiles, don't worry about it."

Stiles kept walking toward the door. "What if someone comes in?"

Olivia shook her head. "Like who? Sweetcheeks, you need sleep."

"No," Stiles denied her vehemently. "What if they get in?"

"What if who gets in? Stiles, just leave it. Please, you're scaring me!" he kept walking. "Stiles, no! Stiles, please don't go in there! Stiles, don't, please!"

He wasn't listening to her and it was maddening. He couldn't go through that door. He couldn't!

"Stiles, don't!" she begged loudly. "Stiles, wake up. Wake up!"

"STILES!"

Olivia's mouth clamped shut, teeth snapping together roughly, when Sirius yipped nervously, rousing her from her nightmare. She inhaled deeply when the hinges of her door quiet squealed open and Lydia rushed into the room

"Something's wrong," she breathed as Lydia crawled into bed with her. She didn't dare look at her cousin's concerned green eyes, she kept her own peeled to the ceiling. "Something's wrong with Stiles, Scott, and Allison."

Olivia wasn't a psychic, she couldn't see the future. However, some part of her, some anchor part of her, knew that something was going on with three of her packmates. Her nightmare had freaked her out to her core, but it was just telling her something that she already knew. Something that she had known for two weeks. Dying, and subsequently coming back to life, had affected Stiles, Scott, and Allison more than they let on.

Their three tethers—Scott's had changed to a deep red, Stiles' stayed his beautiful caramel-whiskey the same color of his eyes, while Allison's glowed a comforting pink—seemed like they were always pulsing. She didn't specifically know what was going on with Scott, but she did know more about the effects on Stiles and Allison. And with the dream she had, more was coming to light.

Seeing Stiles struggle broke Olivia's heart to the core. He was constantly having nightmare after nightmare, and what's more, was his sleep paralysis. She had never gone through sleep paralysis herself, but she had done some research after that first night that Stiles experienced it. It was supposed to be horrible and terrifying, knowing that you're awake but you can't physically move your body. It left Stiles tired and traumatized, though he tried his best not to show it.

Allison, like Stiles, was having terrible visions—just without the sleep paralysis. She would blink and suddenly she'd be in a different place. And what haunted her the most was her aunt, Kate Argent. Allison had told Olivia and Lydia that Kate would appear out of nowhere, stalking, or taunting Allison until she grabbed her nearest weapon to fight back. It was terrifying for her, and the person who would come face-to-face with whatever weapon Allison kept stashed close to her.

And Scott was afraid of himself, his alpha self. While not nearly as terrifying as Stiles and Allison's issues, it was still a big deal to Scott. Scott had learned control fairly quickly for a bitten werewolf and his transition to alpha had screwed with his head. He constantly thought that he would turn into a monster like Peter and that he had no control over his transition. It scarred him; he wouldn't even try to make his wolf features appear in fear of not being able to turn back.

And though Stiles, Allison, and Scott bore the brunt of the sacrifices, Olivia was affected too. Every time Stiles had a nightmare, she'd have one too, and would wake up hearing his screams. Whenever Allison was pulled into one of her hallucinations, her tether would vibrate and Olivia was forced to stop what she was doing to check on her best friend. And while Scott's visions weren't as violent, they made his tether light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July; and when Olivia offered her help, he infuriatingly refused it.

More and more her concern for her boyfriend, best friend, and alpha began to grow. If the darkness that they earned from the sacrifice was this bad now, how much worse would it be in a few months, years?

She had to do something about it. She couldn't just sit by while her friends went certifiable.

"Like this," Olivia held out her left arm, where the plaid sleeve of her blouse was carefully rolled up, and then her right arm, where the fabric stopped prettily on her wrist. "or like this?"

Lydia pursed her lips together, her index finger on her chin, as she seriously contemplated her cousin's fashion choice. "Hmm…you should roll the sleeves," she said finally, eyeing Olivia's bottom half, which was covered by a khaki-colored skirt, dark tights, and heeled ankle boots. "it'll contrast all the business-casual down here."

Olivia glanced at her skirt and then shrugged, knowing what Lydia meant. Carefully, she rolled up her right sleeve until it matched her left and then turned to Lydia expectantly.

Lydia nodded in approval. "Good."

Olivia turned to her locker, a smile quirking her lips. She reached for her textbook for history—where'd they would be introduced to Mr. Westover's replacement—but stopped before her fingers could grip the hard cover.

Allison's tether was glowing brighter than usual, the neon pink blinking on and off. She turned her head, following her instincts (which were, by now, mostly those pesky whispers in her head), toward the set of double doors down the hallway. She was on the move before they swung open and when they did, she was able to catch Allison.

The taller brunette's breathing was frantic as she looked around with wide, confused eyes. It was obvious that she did not remember driving to school, let alone arriving. Olivia squeezed Allison's hands soothingly and pushed some calming effects toward her tether.

"Hey, Al, it's okay," she said softly; she didn't notice as Lydia came over to them, giving Allison a worried look. "You're all right. I've got you."

"I-I was at the morgue," Allison restlessly gestured to the doors. "And Kate, she…she…"

"You're at school and you're safe," Olivia informed her calmly. "Kate's not here. You're okay."

It took a second for Allison to respond, her brown eyes nervously shifting around the hallway. But, finally, she nodded. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Olivia was firm; none of this was Allison's fault so there was no point in apologizing. "We just need to—oh, shit…"

Olivia's gaze tinted violet as Scott's tether caught her attention. It was blazing frighteningly and she saw him moving quickly, right into Stiles' tether.

"It's happening to Stiles and Scott, too," Olivia told Allison as she came back to herself. She glanced at Lydia and added, "We need to find them. They're out front."

The three of them turned and left the school, using the same doors that Allison had stumbled through. With Olivia's abilities, it didn't take long for them to find Stiles and Scott. It seemed that it was Stiles who brought Scott out of his hallucination, as his hands were still gripping his shoulders, holding him into reality.

"I'm okay," they overheard Scott assure Stiles.

"No, you're not," Stiles said knowingly. "It's happening to you, too. You're seeing things, aren't you?"

Scott blinked at Stiles, who had let him go. "How'd you know?"

Olivia, Lydia, and Allison were close enough to the boys now that Olivia felt safe speaking up.

"Because it's happening to all three of you," Stiles and Scott turned at the sound of her voice. "frequently, might I add."

Scott deflated slightly. "You can feel it?"

"Every time," Olivia confirmed while slipping her arm around Stiles' waist; it was against their PDA rules, but she didn't care as long as it calmed him down. It did; he pressed a grateful kiss to the top of her head. "There's the nightmares and the visions, of course, the periods of lack of self-control."

Lydia smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, well, look who's no longer the crazy one."

"We are not crazy," Allison disagreed firmly while Olivia shook her head at her cousin.

"Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis?" Lydia listed as evidence to the contrary. "Yeah, you guys are fine."

She readily ignored the glare that Stiles was sending her, in order to give Scott and Allison an I-told-you-so look.

Scott sighed, agreeing with her slightly. "We did die and come back to life," he admitted. "That's gotta have some side effects, right?"

The bell rang; they had five minutes to get class or they'd be counted tardy.

"We keep an eye on each other," Stiles spoke up, his tone final. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much."

Ignoring Lydia's offended look, Stiles and Olivia walked away. Olivia's grip on his slipped from his waist to his hand as they walked and it was taking all of her self-control not to keep staring at Stiles. She couldn't help it; she was worried about him.

"You know, Livvy, I like when you stare at me, I really do, but only when it's, like, the sexy kind of stare, you know?" Stiles joked, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Or when it looks like you're daydreaming about me. Honestly, when those are combined, that's when I'm happiest—"

"You're such a perv," Olivia laughed but then sobered up. "But, okay, I get it. I'm sorry for staring."

They entered the school once more and walked through the hallway, heading to their history class.

"I just don't want you to worry about me," Stiles sighed. "It's just a couple of nightmares."

"It's not just nightmares, and you know it," Olivia disagreed as they entered Mr. Westover's old classroom. "and I'm gonna worry about you, even when you have your happiest days. You know why?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her while sitting in his seat. "Because you've turned into a worry-wart?"

Olivia sat in the seat behind him. "No," she rolled her eyes, sending Scott a smile as he sat in the seat next to Stiles, before looking back at her boyfriend. "it's because I love you, sweetcheeks."

Stiles made a show of rolling his eyes and muttering unhappily, but the way he gripped her jaw and pulled her close for a kiss told her that he appreciated her and the way she cared about him. The tip of his tongue brushed against her lower lip, nibbling on it gently, and when she opened her mouth to receive him, he pulled away with a beautiful smile.

"Love you, baby," he gave her a quick but searing kiss on her flushed cheek. "and another point for Stiles."

A huff came from Olivia's lips as she took in his words. They had been playing a game recently, because Stiles loved games—especially games that annoyed the pants off of Olivia. It all came down to his hate of their PDA rules and he was being so pathetic about it (pathetically cute, much to her chagrin) that she agreed to make a game out of it. If Stiles got her to break one of her rules, he got a point. The more points he got, the better the prize—a prize in which they had yet to set.

Damn him!

"I hate you," Olivia scowled at him, though she had to fight to keep the expression on her face.

"No, you don't!" Stiles sang with a chuckle.

Rather than stroke his ego, Olivia gave her attention to the front of the class. Their new teacher, Mr. Yukimura, had entered the room and had just finished writing FDR's famous Pearl Harbor quote on the board. She had high hopes for Mr. Yukimura, as she had met his daughter, Kira, in her free period and she seemed quite nice.

The bell rang once more as Mr. Yukimura set his piece of chalk down and clapped the dust off of his hands.

"Good morning, everyone," he greeted the class pleasantly. "My name is Mr. Yukimura and I'll be taking over for your previous history teacher. My family and I moved here three weeks ago. I'm sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira…or you might not, since she's never actually mentioned anyone from school…Or brought home a friend for that matter."

A loud sigh came from a couple seats behind Olivia. The whole class turned to look as Kira, dressed in a black crop-top with her hair in beautiful waves, slammed her head against her desk. Olivia smiled slightly as the new girl looked up and gave everyone a sheepish smile.

She usually didn't like people—her friends obviously excluded—but when she met Kira, she instantly felt a connection with her. Kira was bubbly but shy and awkward and it made Olivia want to take her under her wing and into her group of friends. They had an awkward friend—Stiles—but now they needed a shy one and Kira fit that bill.

Olivia waved at her and smiled in satisfaction when Kira returned her action shyly.

"Now, let's begin with American History at the turn of the twentieth century…"

"Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal."

Stiles quietly scoffed at Scott's words. Leave it to Scott McCall to be optimistic even when they were going crazy. He grabbed his combo lock and started fiddling with the knob, reciting his memorized combination as he twisted and turned it to the right marks.

"Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures," he frowned and narrowed his eyes when his lock did not open. He tried his combination again, though the numbers on the lock were far from normal. "There's a pretty good chance things are never going back to normal."

He tugged on his lock, frustrated. Long gone were the usual numbers; in their places were symbols. Symbols that he had never seen before. His skin prickled with irritation and fear as he stared them down, trying to make sense of them.

"Yeah," Scott sighed in agreement, missing out on Stiles' frustration.

With a grunt, Stiles let go of the lock and turned to Scott, ready to rant about his sudden inability to read. However, he stopped point blank when he saw that Scott's eyes were his alpha-red, not his normal chestnut-brown.

"Oh, dude, your eyes."

Scott gave him an alarmed look. "What about them?"

"They're glowing," Stiles said hurriedly and Scott ducked his head. "Like, right now. Stop, Scott. Stop it."

Scott's breathing picked up as a wheeze as he raised his hand over his red eyes. "I can't," he panted, panicked. "I can't control it."

Stiles grimaced, wondering where Olivia was, and grabbed Scott. "All right, just keep your head down," he advised, looking around at the classrooms on either side of the hall, trying to remember which one was empty during third period. "Okay, come on. Keep your head down."

He led Scott into freshman history classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Scott ripped away from him, grunting loudly as he tried to gain control, and tore out of his jacket.

"Get away from me," he growled at Stiles when he tried to help him. "Stay back."

"Scott, it's okay."

"I don't know what's going to happen," Scott insisted thickly, through his fangs.

Though Stiles wanted to ignore his friend's warning and just grab him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, he didn't. He stayed back, not only for his safety, but to respect Scott's wishes. After all, what if Scott couldn't control himself and ripped Stiles into pieces? That'd be a disaster, for both of them.

The door swung open and Olivia rushed into the room only a second after Scott started digging his claws into the flesh of his palms. Stiles stayed back and let her do her thing, watching as she kneeled in front of his best friend and grabbed his forearms.

"Scott, Scott, listen to me," her eyes were glowing purple under her ministrations. "You're going to get control now, all right?"

"Pain—"

"Pain makes you human, I know," Olivia agreed with Scott, nodding empathetically. "All right, so focus on that pain. Let it ground you. That pain is an anchor."

Stiles knew that this was serious, he really did. But between his fear and anger at the situation he, Scott, and Allison were in, his heart couldn't help but melt. Olivia had really come into her own as an Anchor. She was empathetic and gentle and though he loved her as she was previously—self-deemed the Ice Queen—he only grew more and more in love with her with each passing day.

God, I'm so fucking lucky to have her.

Olivia and Scott were sitting on the floor now, blood covering the alpha's arms and the Anchor's hands. Scott was back to his human self, back in control, but Olivia continued to give her support, holding onto Scott until she felt he no longer needed her. Stiles plopped down next to them and handed them the tissues he snagged from the teacher's desk.

"This isn't just in our heads," he admitted as Olivia let go of Scott and started wiping her hands of his blood. "This is real and it's starting to get bad for me, too. I'm not just having nightmares. I'm having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake…And sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up."

Olivia swallowed thickly, giving her boyfriend a concerned look. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know how you can tell if you're dreaming?" Stiles looked between Olivia and Scott, watching as the latter shook his head. "You can't read in dreams. More and more, the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words. I can't put the letters in order."

Stiles focused on Scott, so he didn't have to see the heartbroken look on Olivia's face.

"Like even now?"

Stiles looked around the room, focusing on the posters taped to the brick walls. They were history posters, obviously, but he couldn't make out the words. All the letters on each and every one were mixed around, like he was suddenly dyslexic. The only thing he could make out was a picture of Lincoln's memorial—but there weren't words on that one. He couldn't read.

"I can't read a thing."

Things had not approved overnight. Allison in particular was having difficulties, so Olivia stuck to her side like glue. After she left art class, where Allison was having trouble holding her brush still, to help with Scott's control, things had not gotten better for the hunter. According to Lydia, Allison spaced out after getting red paint on her canvas and was close to a panic attack.

Lydia, being the strategist she was, suggested that Allison practice with her bow after school. The three of them went out to the woods behind Olivia and Lydia's house and set up a target for Allison to shoot. However, Allison's shaky grip on the paintbrush was much like her grip on her bow. She couldn't stay still, no matter which way she held the string and launched the arrow.

In the end, their little experiment had been a disaster. Allison ended up having a hallucination of Kate—one that Olivia could not bring her out of, no matter how hard she tried—and tried to shoot Lydia. She would have killed the redhead if it wasn't for Isaac's newfound crush on the hunter. If he hadn't been following them and hadn't caught the arrow heading right for Lydia's head, she would be dead.

It had been a restless night of sleep for Olivia, courtesy of the nightmares keeping Stiles awake, and things only got worse when she went back to school the next day. After sleeping through the first two periods in the nurse's office—Olivia was her favorite student and she was often able to escape there during class if she already knew the lesson for that day—it had been Coach's class.

Having gotten a nap in, Olivia felt fine. She was taking notes along with Coach's lecture and had answered a question or two when she was called on, when she felt it. Stiles tether almost ached as it lit up the map of her pack. In the desk in front of her, Stiles was still awake and writing furiously in his notebook but he wasn't reacting to anything she sent to his tether to calm him down. It was like he was asleep, but he wasn't—his eyes were wide open and he kept writing the same phrase over and over again in his notes.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Coach, who had been trying to get his attention, had enough of his ignorance. He blew sharply into the whistle, causing Stiles to jump high in his seat, completely shocked.

"Stilinski!" Stiles glared at Coach, wide-eyed. "I asked you a question."

"Uh, sorry, Coach," Stiles apologized, centering himself. "What was it?

"It was, 'Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?'"

Stiles grimaced. "Oh…Well, I am now."

Coach pressed his lips together unhappily. "Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink every night," he turned away from Stiles. "Does anybody else want to try the question on the board?"

Stiles sighed in relief now that Coach had turned his attention to someone else, and turned to Scott and Olivia. She knew that her face must have shown how worried she was, because Stiles was quick to assure them that he was okay.

"I'm okay, I just fell asleep for a second."

Olivia glanced at Scott and then at Stiles' notebook, looking over his handwriting. He was writing to himself, telling himself to wake up, and he hadn't. Not until Coach used his whistle to get his attention. So, physically, he wasn't asleep, but he thought he was?

What the hell is going on with him? Olivia worried to herself.

"Dude," Scott nodded at Stiles' notebook. "You weren't asleep."

Stiles glanced at his notebook, his eyes growing wide with confusion. At once, he grabbed it and slammed it upside down so he didn't have his own handwriting haunting him.

Soon, class ended with the ring of the lunch bell. Olivia, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia—who also had economics class with them, but sat on the other side of the classroom with Danny—went to the courtyard to eat. Allison and Isaac met up with them and though they all had brought food, eating was the last thing on their minds.

They compared stories about what was going on with Stiles, Scott, and Allison. The more they heard, the more they knew that they had to do something. They just didn't know what.

"Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" Scott asked, bringing them back to the start of the conversation.

"And is unable to tell what's real or not," Stiles added grumpily.

Allison nodded, "And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?"

"They're all locked up because they're insane," Isaac answered, idly throwing a potato chip into his mouth.

"Ha," Stiles laughed sarcastically and sneered at him. "Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

"For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer," Isaac reminded him. "So, being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

"Hey, dude, are you still milking that?"

"Yeah, maybe I am still milking that."

"Guys, I mean this in the nicest way, but shut up," Olivia interrupted them, grabbing Stiles' hand that rested on her thigh and squeezing to the point he winced. "Turning on each other is not gonna help us."

"Hi!" a new voice chirped and Olivia looked up to see Kira standing at the end of their table. "Hi, sorry. I couldn't help but overhearing what you guys were talking about and I think I actually might now what you're talking about."

They all stared at her expectantly.

"There's a Tibetan word for it," she explained as she took the empty seat next to Scott and across from Lydia. "It's called Bardo. It literally means in-between state."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at the newcomer. "And what do they call you?"

Scott gave Lydia a reproachful look as Olivia spoke up, "Her name's Kira. I told you about her, remember, Lyds?"

"Right," Lydia nodded, giving Kira a once-over. Olivia didn't know if her cousin felt threatened by the fact that Kira knew something she didn't, or because Kira was sitting close to Scott. "the new girl."

"Yeah. So, Kira," Olivia caught their new friend's attention. "are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?"

Kira shrugged. "Either I guess. But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo," she nodded confidently. "There are different progressive states where you can hallucinate. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful or wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities?" Isaac repeated skeptically. "And what are those?"

"Like demons," Kira grinned. Olivia knew that if Kira knew they weren't just talking hypotheticals, there wouldn't be a smile on her face.

"Demons," Stiles scoffed, frowning at Olivia, who smiled sympathetically. "Why not?"

"Hold on," Allison spoke up. "if there are different progressive states, then what's the last one?"

"Death," Kira answered casually. "You die."

Olivia, Stiles, and the rest of the pack shared at look, one thought on each of their minds.

Shit.

The crackle of electricity was unmistakable, especially when they were being held in such a small room. Olivia found herself chained to a fence, her toes unable to reach the rough wooden floors, and between two familiar men. Derek was on her left with a stubborn expression on his face and Peter was on her right, scowling in pain. Both of them were shirtless, but Olivia was still fully clothed in the pajamas she changed into at Allison's apartment while they studied.

Derek glared past her, his pale-green eyes spewing hate at Peter.

Peter noticed. "Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?"

"Because it is your fault."

Derek's statement was followed by a sharp shock rocking through their bodies. Olivia gasped in pain and clenched at the metal fence, her fingers practically molding the material around them.

"It's all your fault," she added when the electricity cleared.

"Yeah," Peter sighed. "you're probably right."

There was another crackle and Olivia's body shook from current that ran through her. She knew that she should have been dead by now, that she should have died from electric shock and from the sheer pain that came with it, but she wasn't. For whatever reason, she was still alive and held captive with her father and cousin.

"You see this equipment?" the man who had been controlling the electric current spoke up from where he sat by an old, rusty transmitter. "Very old. The settings are not quite accurate anymore. So, it's hard to tell just how far to turn the dial."

Olivia's teeth rattled together in her mouth as Peter grunted, "I think it's a little high."

The man didn't like the way Peter spoke to him. He grabbed the knob that controlled the strength of the current and turned it higher. A scream forced its way out of Olivia at the fresh wave of electricity and Peter growled, but Derek merely grunted.

"I've seen some crack their teeth, others? They just shake and shake even after their heart stops," the man laughed as he looked back on Olivia, Peter, and Derek. "Sometimes we don't even know they're dead," he cut the electricity and laughed again. "but nobody wants to play a guessing game. So, why don't you just tell us. Where is la loba?"

The man walked away from his station and took root in front of Olivia, Peter, and Derek.

"We don't know where la loba is," Derek answered strictly, trying to catch his breath.

"No?" the man didn't look convinced. "Maybe you need a different method of persuasion? Maybe, we cut one of you in half, the other talks?"

Olivia grimaced, just at the thought of a hemicorporectomy. Those reminded her of Gerard Argent and she couldn't stand that old asshole.

"I would love to be the volunteer, but we really don't know what you're talking about," Peter spoke up. And then, just because he was Peter, he barbed, "And honestly, isn't bisecting people with a broad sword a little medieval?"

The man chuckled. "Broad sword? We're not savages," he nodded at one of his men and the man picked up a chainsaw, revving the engine. "We all wonder how far your little healing trick goes."

Olivia saw the man with the chainsaw position the rapidly-moving blade at Derek's arm before she clenched her eyes tightly shut.

"What do you think?" the main man asked. "Can you grow back an arm? We're pretty sure you can't grow back your head."

"Boys," a sharp, feminine voice cut through the buzz of the chainsaw.

The electric tool's power was cut immediately and when Olivia opened her eyes, she saw a tiny woman enter the room. She, like the men they were with, was Latino in heritage and spoke with a heavy accent when using the English language.

The woman spoke to her men in her native language as she walked further into the room. Both men rescinded away from Olivia, Derek, and Peter and stopped to watch the woman do her work.

She stopped in front of the three Hales, giving them a once-over.

"No hablo Espanol," Derek said curtly, lying through his teeth. While Olivia only had two years on Spanish on her belt and wasn't quick to the take when people spoke it around her, Derek was. It was one of his best subjects in school.

The woman clicked her tongue. "You speak many languages, Derek Hale," the woman spoke in her native language, though this happened to be a statement Olivia could translate. "You know exactly what I'm saying and you know who we want."

The woman pulled something out of the pocket of her cute old-lady sweater. Olivia could see that it was a blade of some sort, maybe curved to cutting something specific. The woman took slow steps toward them, holding the blade out threateningly.

"Where is the she-wolf?"

Was she talking about Cora? That was the only female werewolf that they knew now. But what did these people, these hunters, want with Cora? She hadn't done anything wrong.

Even if they were asking about Cora, Derek wasn't going to give his sister away.

"We don't know any she-wolf."

The woman pressed her lips together and nodded. "I know you won't talk, lobito," she turned, completely bypassing Olivia, and stood in front of Peter. "This one will talk. This one loves the sound of his own voice."

"You should hear me sing," Peter said sarcastically.

The man, the main one who was in change of the electrical current, smirked viciously. "We want to hear you scream."

Peter shook his head and glanced at Derek. "No one ever wants to hear me sing."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Peter."

Peter faced the woman again as she spoke, "What could we do to persuade you, hmm?" she lifted the blade against Peter's temple and drew it down his face; Peter winced as his fingernails sharpened into claws and blood dripped from his chin. "Where is the she-wolf?

This time, Peter kept his mouth shut.

The woman didn't like that. Quickly, she whipped the blade away from his face and brought it down on his hand. Peter's ring finger on his left hand was chopped off swiftly, blood bursting out all over his chest as he screamed.

"Oh, my God," Olivia breathed, her stomach turning.

"Think about it," the woman called, from where she had turned around. She studied the severed finger in her hand. "I'm only going to ask you nine more times."

And with that, she dropped the finger, and walked out of the room.

Olivia inhaled deeply as she sat up, her palm sloped against her racing heart. The dream—no, the nightmare—she had been having felt so real. Much more so than the dream she had of Stiles, Scott, and Allison the other night. No, what had happened in her dream had really happened, though it was obvious that she wasn't there. Derek and Peter were in trouble, trapped by hunters in Mexico, and she had to do something about it.

A sharp gasp came from next to her. Olivia watched as Allison jumped awake from her restless sleep. Placing a calming hand on her friend's shoulder, she tried not to panic as Allison pulled a ring dagger out from under her pillow.

Yeah, none of this was okay.