Hope everyone had a good Pride Month!

"Hope that you spend your days

But they all add up

And when that sun goes down

Hope you raise your cup

I wish that I could witness

All your joy and all your pain"

I Lived by OneRepublic

Annoying Batman-Wannabe: Hurry your scary ass up before I knock down your door :(

I rolled my eyes at the messaged that popped up on my phone screen. Honestly, boys claimed girls were dramatic, but I had never met anyone more dramatic than the human male that was Stiles Stilinski, and it was hard to out-drama Broody McBrooderson, Derek Hale.

My phone dinged again.

Annoying Batman-Wannabe: Scratch that- before I have Scott knock down your door

That was more like it. Before he could start bombarding my phone, I pulled on a bomber jacket over my red button-up, laced up my boots over my dark blue jeans, put on a beanie, and climbed out my window, dropping from my second-story window onto the grass below. Scott waved from the blue Jeep parked on the curb while Stiles impatiently drummed on his steering wheel.

Scott got out of the Jeep to let me climb into the back. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" I asked as I got comfortable.

Nodding his head as he sat back down in the passenger seat, Scott said, "Yeah, definitely."

"Well, I still hate this idea," Stiles pitched in, pulling back onto the street. He glanced in the rearview mirror to look at me with a sly grin. "Speaking of hating things: how's Isaac?"

I let out an involuntary growl. Scott reached between the seats, not even looking back at me, holding out his hand for me to take. I leaned forward on my knees and happily placed my hand in his. For whatever reason, Scott could calm me down which made him invaluable over the summer every time my anger seemed to get the better of me.

"That bad, huh?" Scott wondered, squeezing my hand once.

The warmth was comforting, as was his thumb idly brushing over my fingers. "I haven't heard from him in at least a week." He had gotten a new phone, too, courtesy of me stealing my parent's money. Not like they'd notice anyway. And if they did, they'd assume I broke mine and still wouldn't bother to bring it up. I sighed and ran my free hand through my hair. "I wouldn't mind him disappearing for a few days as long as he gave me a heads-up, you know? Or didn't disappear when we had set plans."

Scott looked back at me, his eyes softening. "How many dates?"

I almost didn't want to answer him. "Four out of seven." Not including ones canceled prior, but Scott already knew that.

"I've never liked him," Stiles said helpfully.

"Yeah, we know, Stiles," Scott said in return. A small smile cracked my stoic expression.

Stiles simply shrugged and continued driving. He asked about Isaac's flakiness and Houdini acts every time I hung out with him, so the human was definitely unsurprised while Scott kept his questions to only when it was visibly bugging me. Half the time, it seemed like Stiles wanted to say more but held his tongue. I couldn't tell if my unpredictable reaction was what held him back or something else. I sincerely hoped it wasn't my reaction because if Stiles was worried about my reaction then it seemed bad.

Eventually, Stiles pulled up outside of a tattoo parlor and we went inside, meeting with the artist and filling out the necessary paperwork. Our Scotty boy was getting inked up. But due to California's laws against tattooing minors, it was one of the sketchier places. I had once entertained the idea of getting a tattoo when I was younger, but I didn't know how it would mix with supernatural healing abilities. I knew Derek had one on his back, so it was definitely possible, but I wasn't sure about how he went about it. I had tried asking him for Scott, but surprise, surprise, Derek hadn't answered my calls or texts, just like his beta.

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture," the tall, gruff, bearded tattoo artist said sarcastically as he looked at the paper Scott had given him for reference. Scott gave him his standard boyish grin from the tattoo chair, and I snorted, flipping through one of the books of artwork as I leaned against the side of the chair.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles asked, turning around the piece of artwork he was looking at. I looked up from the book in my hands to see a drawing that looked like a kanima. Scott gave him an exasperated look. "Too soon?"

"I'd get that," I spoke up.

Stiles looked at me strangely, not registering my sarcasm. "Really?"

"Yeah," I continued, tucking the artbook under my arm. "Right here." With a straight expression, I placed both of my hands on my boobs. Stiles sputtered and shook his head, finally realizing I was completely kidding. Scott ducked his head, but I didn't miss the smirk and blush. Stiles continued going through the book as the tattoo artist readied the ink and equipment.

The artist pointed at a nearby stool. "You can pull that over," he told me. "Don't wanna bump the chair once I get started."

"Oh, right, sorry," I told him. Probably shouldn't mess up Scott's tattoo. Grabbing the stool after setting the book on the nearby counter, I pulled the stool closer, sitting by Scott's side.

"I don't know, man. Are you sure about this?" Stiles asked. "I mean these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

"Sara already asked earlier," Scott said. "I'm not changing my mind."

Stiles closed the artbook. "Okay, but why two bands?"

"I just like it."

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something."

"Getting a tattoo means something."

"I don't think that's-"

"He's right," the artist spoke up, interrupting Stiles. All three of us turned to him. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark.'" Stiles folded his arms. "Like a rite of passage."

Scott turned back to his best friend. "Yeah, you see? He gets it."

Stiles wasn't amused. "He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally."

"I've always kinda wanted to learn tebori," I revealed, crossing my legs on the stool. Scott looked at me confused, so I explained. "It's the ancient Japanese tattooing technique." The werewolf made an interested 'oh' expression.

"I thought Japanese people had this stigma or something against tattoos?" Stiles asked.

"Not unlike Americans," I pointed out. Stiles huffed in his spot, his longer hair moving with his head.

"Okay, you ready?" the tattoo artist asked Scott, holding up the needle gun. Scott hesitantly nodded his head, his nerves finally showing. I held out my hand, just like he had done for me in the Jeep, and he took it with a grateful smile. The artist noticed his nerves. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

Scott shook his head, gripping my hand. "Nope."

The tattoo gun starting up and the man began working on the tattoo around Scott's bicep. Stiles looked on, scratching his chin. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so. . . " Stiles trailed off.

Scott's grip tightened on my hand. "Oh, man," I heard him mutter then Stiles fainted. Scott, the tattoo artist, and I looked over, finding the spastic boy unconscious on the floor. The artist simply looked amused and continued his work. Scott grimaced in pain but turned to me. "Can you check on him, please?"

I shrugged. "It's what he gets for looking."

Scott tilted his head, unamused. "Sara, please."

"Only for you, Scotty." My hand left his as I stood, walking around the area to check on the unconscious human. Nudging him with my foot, Stiles didn't wake up or move, so I pulled him up by his underarms and began dragging him away over to the windows where a waiting bench was located. Barely any of my strength was needed to pick him up and set him on the bench, he was seriously light. The boy began mumbling as he regained consciousness and groaned. "Welcome to the land of the living, Stilinski."

"Hey, there's a fridge just around the corner if you wanna grab him a cold pack," the artist called out, not looking up. "It happens quite often."

"Thanks," I replied and went to grab one, returning with a rectangular, white, cold pack and giving it to a grumpy Stiles. I then returned to Scott, the werewolf trying not to show he was in pain. I held out my hand again and he grabbed it. "What would you two do without me?"

Scott chuckled. "Whatever the result, it wouldn't be good. . . So, you want to learn an ancient tattooing technique?" I raised an eyebrow at his question. "Talking helps distract me."

"Ah." I nodded slowly, biting my lip and looking away. "It's always seemed like a silly dream."

"Why?" I could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"My mother frowns on any non-academic pursuit," I stated simply. It wasn't the whole reason, but it was a good chunk. Mildly hypocritical of her due to the fact she married a painter.

"But you don't get along with her anyway." Scott immediately winced at his own words and I smirked. "I did not mean it to sound as insensitive as it did." I laughed a little, getting him to laugh, too. I wasn't offended. "I just meant, why are you letting her affect this one thing about you when you don't let her affect other things?"

"Your way with words never fails to amaze me, Scotty." A blush and a bashful smile crept up on him again. It was too easy to bring out the dopey puppy in him. "Ask me again another time." He nodded earnestly, understanding my hidden meaning. Ask again when no one else was around.

After Scott was bandaged up and paid, we got back into Stiles' Jeep. Stiles was incredibly grumpy because of his bump on the head, but he and I both noticed Scott groan and stare down at his bandage with a frown.

"You okay?" I asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Kinda burns," Scott answered.

"Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred-thousand times with a needle," Stiles said.

I shook my head, knowing something was off about Scott's behavior compared to earlier. "No, he seems in more pain now than when he was getting the tattoo. That isn't normal."

Scott tugged his shirt sleeve up more. "I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to feel like this." He then jumped, groaning more. "Oh, god, no, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this."

"Take off the bandage," I told him concerned. "Let me look at it."

Stiles then vehemently refused that order as Scott started taking it off. "No, no, no, no, Scott. Oh, Scott, please stop." Despite shaking his head, Stiles still watched Scott rip off the bandage. All three of us watched as the tattoo began disappearing. "Whoa, whoa."

"Oh, no, what?" Scott muttered, watching intently. "No, no, come on." I stared at his bare arm wide-eyed. Scott dropped his arm, slightly breathless and disappointed. "It healed."

"Ah, thank god," Stiles said. "I hated it." Scott and I turned to him with baffled expressions. Stiles paused as he was about to start his Jeep. "Sorry." Stiles then started his Jeep and drove off.

"We'll figure something out, Scott," I said. He nodded sadly.

As Stiles drove, we talked about the upcoming school year starting the next day. "So, have you talked to Allison?" Stiles asked.

"No, we agreed to give each other the summer," Scott explained as Stiles pulled up to a red light next to a blue car. "No texts, no calls."

"At least yours was mutually agreed upon," I said, leaning forward in my seat.

"So then how do you know she won't be back at school then?" Stiles continued. His face then dropped as he stared past Scott. I peeked my head forward more to see what he was looking at. I spotted two teenage girls in the car beside us. Allison and Lydia.

"After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all." Scott was completely oblivious to the inhabitants of the other car on the road.

"I think she is," I spoke up.

"I'd say pretty definite, you know," Stiles added. "Like one hundred percent."

Scott looked at us confused. Poor, oblivious, Scott McCall. Stiles jutted his chin out to gesture out the window and then pointed when Scott didn't quite get the hint. Scott looked over and his jaw dropped a little. He then freaked out when Allison noticed. He ducked down in his seat. "Oh, my god, oh." Lydia glanced over and Stiles and I both waved. "Can we just drive, please, Stiles?"

"Scott, it's a red light."

I gently hit Scott's shoulder. "Stop acting weird, you're making it worse." I saw Allison having a similar reaction to Scott in Lydia's car.

"I think we should talk to her," Stiles said. "I think we should say something." That'd definitely make it even weirder.

"No," Scott quickly denied. Stiles didn't listen to him and reached over Scott's lap to roll down the window while Scott repeated his objections. "Oh, my god, dude, no."

"Hey!" Stiles greeted. I watched amused as Lydia sped off, merging into our lane. "You know, they probably didn't see us." Once the light turned green, Stiles followed.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"I'm driving."

"We're right behind them."

"Yes, Scott, that's what happens when you're the only people on the road," I stated sarcastically. He glanced at me with a glare.

"I don't want it to look like we're following them," Scott argued. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Boys. Not like Allison and Lydia were doing much better.

Stiles also wasn't amused by his best friend's reaction. "Well, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, anything."

Stiles slammed on the brake, throwing my not-buckled ass forward in the seat. I moaned in pain and sat up, rubbing my arm and forehead. "Seriously, Stiles? Warn a girl."

"I would if you were one," Stiles countered.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

I gave him a smile. While I loved bantering with Stiles, Scott had the top spot for being my favorite of the two. "I'm fine, just kinda annoyed. Thank you, Scotty." Looking out the windshield, I noticed Lydia stopping her car, too. I pointed at it. "What are they doing?" Scott and Stiles looked, and we exchanged confused glances. Shortly after we heard screaming.

Scrambling out of the Jeep, we ran over as the girls got out of their car.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked again as we reached them.

While the boys checked on them, I went directly to the front of the car. Lodged in Lydia's windshield was a stag. Blood and glass were everywhere. I gently placed a hand on it, feeling the last of its heartbeat dwindling.

"It was like it was crazy," I heard Lydia say.

Scott stood next to me, staring down at the animal. "No, it was scared." He set his hand next to mine. While I had checked for life, he was checking for something else. "Actually. . . terrified." Scott turned to look down the empty road.

I pulled my hand away. "Why do I get the feeling this is only the beginning?"

After the eventful night with Scott and Stiles that was gatecrashed by Allison, Lydia, and a startled deer, I got ready the following morning, not looking forward to the school day. I still hadn't heard anything from Isaac, so I had no clue whether he was going to be at school or not. Part of me hoped he wouldn't be because I wanted to strangle him, but the other part of me needed to know he was okay.

I pulled on blue jeans, a red, blue, green, and white patterned tank top, a matching beanie, and my black combat boots. I tugged on my bomber jacket when my eyes met my tail dangling from the corner of my mirror. Something about it sitting there unprotected after the previous night and my sense of dread didn't sit right with me. Snatching the thin chain, I put the tail-necklace on and slipped it under my top. The sense of dread didn't end, but it was slightly eased at least.

With my keys and my bag, I left the house, calling, "Goodbye!" I didn't know if anyone was still home.

First, I drove my car to the address Allison had given me. Despite my closeness with the person she had tried to avoid, she had readily accepted my offer at a ride, not wanting to drive after what had happened. Lydia was also grateful since her car was in the shop and had promised to buy me a coffee before school.

Allison slid into the passenger seat. I studied her for a brief moment. "Despite your best efforts at being otherwise," I started, "it's okay to be shaken up."

She nodded and let out a slow breath. "Thanks."

I nudged her with my elbow. "Relax. New year. New experiences."

She raised an eyebrow at me as I began driving to Lydia's. "New experiences like new boyfriends?" she asked.

"Eh." I shrugged. "If that's what you want. Not exactly what I meant." Allison looked like she wanted to ask something but stopped herself. I knew what she wanted to ask. "It's alright to wonder about him. He's doing well. Been studying and training a lot. Tried getting a tattoo."

Her face twisted up. "Tried?"

"It healed. Stiles also fainted."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks, Sara."

We picked up Lydia, got coffee, then headed to school. I waved them off when they looked confused as to why I stayed by my car sipping on my super sugary coffee. I was waiting for Dumb and Dumber.

Scott arrived first on the dirt bike he had bought over the summer. I walked over to him as he parked next to two other motorcycles. Extremely nice, expensive motorcycles. He took off his helmet, looked down proud at having his own vehicle, then looked over to see the better bikes.

I couldn't help but laugh at his facial expression dropping a little. He heard the laugh and looked over at me, seeing me standing nearby. "Performance anxiety?" I asked with a teasing grin.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, but the corners of his mouth still twitched up. He wanted to laugh. Climbing off his bike, Scott joined me and gestured to my coffee. "What's that?"

"If you like coffee with your sugar, you can try it. White chocolate mocha with vanilla and caramel."

Scott looked at the coffee cup skeptically. "That sounds like a lot of sugar."

"Like you'll get fat from it, Werewolf McWerewolf." He laughed at my Harry Potter reference. Over the summer I had brought over the Harry Potter movies and told him it was the most obvious reveal for Remus Lupin being a werewolf if you considered the origins of his name.

The reference which Stiles heard as he joined us. "Oh, so you'll watch Harry Potter, but not Star Wars?" Stiles asked, extremely offended.

Scott shrugged. "She brought over Harry Potter. You've never brought over Star Wars." I gave Stiles a pointed, smug look to aid Scott's point.

Stiles glared at us. "I hate you both."

"Except you don't," I quickly corrected.

Us three then made our way towards the front doors of the school. The halls were bustling with students, old and new, and we weaved through them.

"So, I think I'm going to talk to Derek about my tattoo," Scott revealed.

I spoke up, bitterness seeping into my voice. "Tried that, but maybe you'll have better luck. See if it's just me they're avoiding."

"You wanna ask Derek for help, why, why?" Stiles asked.

"He's got the triskele tattooed on his back." Scott gestured to his own back for emphasis. "So there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?"

"Okay, yeah," Stiles conceded, his eyes drawn to the bulletin board we were passing by. "But still, doesn't he have his hands a little full?" On the board were two Missing Persons posters, one for Boyd and one for Erica. The posters were sad to see since, despite their over-cockiness after the bite, they were still good people, but they had also left willingly. So were they actually missing? Derek hadn't told any of us of his plans to look for them.

Our attention was drawn to the office down the hall next to the bulletin board. "Look, these are the applications for the career advisor," the principal was saying with his British accent. "I need them sorted. And whatever happened to the library while I was gone?" We moved to peek down the hall. "I want it cleared up. And what the hell is this?" He picked up a sword. Gerard's sword.

Stiles, Scott, and I looked at each other. "Go, go, go," Stiles said. The three of us took down the hall, and I began quietly laughing. Stiles reached past Scott to hit my shoulder. "Not funny, Sara."

"It's kinda funny," Scott chimed in.

"Thank you, Scotty. This is why you're my favorite."

Stiles stopped walking at my words. "He's what?" Scott and I simply continued walking, chuckling to ourselves. The human then ran to catch up with us as we reached our lockers, mine right next to theirs since we had been together when they were assigned a week prior.

After putting away what we didn't need, the three of us went to our first class: English Literature. I sat in front of Stiles while Scott sat next to him. As more students filed in, the seats filled up, leaving the one in front of Scott open when Allison needed a seat. She didn't look particularly pleased to sit in front of him but smiled at me when she moved to sit, and Scott, being Scott, was completely awkward when she sat down.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. As I pulled it out, I noticed other phones vibrating and ringing, too. A text from an unknown number had arrived in my inbox.

When I started to read it, a voice spoke up to read it aloud, making me and other students look up. "'The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead in the heart of an immense darkness.'" A brunette woman with her hair pulled back walked to the teacher's desk, her heels clicking against the hard floor. She looked up at the class, lowering her phone. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

Pretty sure you can't demand that, and you can't use our personal phone numbers without our permission, but whatever, not even gonna ask how you got our numbers in the first place, I thought as I put my phone on silent and slipped it into my bag. I didn't care enough. She looked extremely proud of herself which only made me dislike her.

The new teacher, Ms. Blake, gave us a small writing assignment to do after going over the syllabus, and she started writing things on the board.

While everyone in the class was occupied with our assignment, the principal walked in and spoke quietly to Ms. Blake. "Mr. McCall?" Ms. Blake called. Scott looked up abruptly. She then pointed to the door and made a gesture with her head. Scott looked to Stiles and me as he packed up his stuff and tapped his phone. He'd text or call us. Scott followed Ms. Blake out. She was only out there a few moments before rejoining the class.

"Hey, Lydia," I heard Stiles whisper behind me. "What is that? Is that from the accident?" I glanced back to see what he was pointing at to see a bandage on her ankle.

"No," Lydia replied quietly. "Prada bit me."

"Your dog?"

"No, my designer handbag," she snapped. I smirked. "Yes, my dog."

"Has it ever bitten you before?" She shook her head. "Okay, what if it's like the same thing as the deer? You know, like how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just-maybe it means something's coming."

I turned around. "It would make sense," I added, whispering as well. "Animals are the best judges of danger. Could be something bad."

Lydia didn't look particularly convinced. "It was a deer and a dog." She paused. "What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice-" She was cut off by a bird hitting the window. There's the third.

Everyone turned to look at the windows. A huge blot of blood was splattered on the window where the bird hit. Ms. Blake set down the chalk she was using and moved closer to the windows. I could hear birds squawking outside and a large number of crows flying towards us.

"Chikushō," I muttered, watching the flock fly closer.

Another bird hit the window, the glass cracking where it hit. And another. And another, until one smashed through the window followed by more.

"Get down, everyone!" Ms. Blake ordered.

Students ducked beneath desks. I grabbed Allison beside me and shielded her with my body beneath her desk as birds continued to fly into the classroom, some dead and some alive. Students screamed around us and one scratched my back. Pain shot through me, but I didn't move, keeping Allison hidden below me. I'd heal. One scratched my head. I could feel blood dripping down me.

"Get down! Get down!" Ms. Blake continued to scream.

A few minutes later, the squawking and crashing stopped. I hesitantly looked up and saw no more birds flying around. Moving away from Allison, she grabbed my wrist to keep me low. The classroom looked like a massacre. Birds, glass, blood, and feathers were scattered everywhere. Other students began picking themselves up as well.

I put my hand over Allison's. "It's alright. It's over." I stood slowly then helped her up. "Are you okay?"

Allison checked her arms. "Yeah, no scratches thanks to you. But my head hurts, not gonna lie." She then checked out my appearance as I stumbled when taking a step towards my bag. "You're hurt. Sit." Making me sit on the closest desk, she checked my head, looking for the cut, but I could feel it already beginning to heal.

I grabbed her hand, pulling it away from my head. "I'm alright." I lowered my voice so no one else would hear. "It's healing."

The police came as quickly as they could with paramedics, taking statements from us students and making sure no one was hurt.

"Next time you're feeling you wanna stay home, you stay home," Chris Argent told his daughter from beside me.

"I'm okay." Allison gestured towards me with her head. "Sara was covering me. But, Dad, the deer and now this?"

"And Lydia was bitten by her dog," I told them. "Something's wrong."

Chris sighed. "I know, I know."

Mr. Stilinski then joined us, interrupting our conversation. "Mr. Argent," he greeted. "You wouldn't have any insight into this, would you?" Allison and I froze at the Sheriff's question.

"Me?" Chris wondered.

"Yeah," the Sheriff continued. Chris glanced at his daughter. "All this bizarre animal behavior, it's-You must've seen something like this before, right?"

"I'm not sure why I would or why you would think I would."

"I'm sorry. I-I could've sworn I overheard my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter." Sheriff Stilinski jutted his thumb towards Stiles who sat nearby.

Allison and I smirked. "Ah, right," Chris said. He looked at Allison for a beat. "Well, not anymore."

Stilinski nodded and looked to Allison and I. "You two alright?"

"Yeah," Allison told him while I nodded.

I raised an eyebrow at the Argents when Stilinski walked away. "Not anymore?" I asked.

"Retired," Chris said quickly.

"Well, that's disappointing. I was just starting to like you." Allison let out a sharp laugh.

The whole class was excused for the rest of the day because of the incident. Allison and Lydia were getting rides from Mr. Argent, so I ran out with Stiles. I hopped into his passenger seat while he called Scott with his phone on speaker. "We got a serious problem at the school. Ms. Blake's class-" Stiles stopped talking when Scott cut him off.

"Hey, can you tell me about it later?" Scott requested.

Stiles glanced at me incredulously. "Uh, well, nope, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion."

"Scott, please," I pleaded. "Where are you?"

"Derek's," Scott answered.

"Derek's house? What the hell are you doing at Derek's house?" Stiles questioned.

Scott didn't answer directly. "Just meet us here, okay?"

"We're on our way," I told him.

Stiles begrudgingly hung up his phone and put it in his pocket. Starting up his Jeep, he asked, "Why can't we have one normal school year?"

I buckled my seatbelt. "No idea." As Stiles pulled out of the parking lot, I continued talking. "You know, this all technically started because of Peter. I propose killing him again."

"Thank you! At least someone agrees!"

For the rest of the drive to Derek's ruined house, Stiles and I bounced ideas off each other for why the animals of Beacon Hills were acting strangely. Natural disaster, a new big bad like an alpha or something worse, something in the water. We were betting on a new big bad, but neither of us had any true ideas as to what it could be, especially when I told him I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that was making me want to run, similar to how the natural animals were acting.

When we pulled up to Derek's house, Stiles and I entered to see Derek bent over a table with someone laying on it. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was Isaac. An unconscious Isaac.

My eyes bugged out of my head. "What the hell, Derek?" I hurried over to the alpha's side, staring down at my boyfriend. He had on a sheet covering his lower half that looked like it was from the hospital. "What happened?"

"Go home," Derek stated simply.

"What? No. Absolutely not."

Scott came up behind me, placing a gentle hand on my elbow. "Sara-"

I wrenched my arm away. "No, I don't need to be calm, Scott. I need answers." I turned back to Derek, my jaw set and eyes narrowed. "What the hell is going on, and what have you gotten him into?" Derek didn't reply, grabbing something from beside the table. I grabbed his arm, making him look at me. "Everything is going to shit, and we all need to be honest with each other. We were attacked by fucking birds in our English Lit class like twenty minutes ago. You've been avoiding me, and Isaac's been lying and hiding shit all summer, and I'm sick of it. Tell me what you've really been up to because I know damn well it's not training."

"A rival pack, but it's our problem, not yours," he answered harshly. "There's nothing we can do for Isaac right now besides letting him rest." The alpha turned to Scott. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" Stiles asked.

"Derek's helping me with my tattoo," Scott answered.

I huffed as Derek and Scott moved to sit on some rubble close by. Even though I was angry, I knew Derek was right in more ways than one. A rival pack was his problem, and I couldn't help Isaac right then, so I leaned against the table Isaac laid on while watching the two conscious werewolves.

Scott stripped off his jacket and shirt, sitting in his tank, and Derek shifted his eyes to look at Scott's arm. "Yeah, I see it," Derek said. "It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers." Scott traced the symbol on the dusty surface next to them.

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?" Scott asked him.

"'To mark something,'" Stiles cut in and winked at Derek with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Well, that's in Tahitian," Scott continued. "In Samoan, it means 'open wound.' I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I've always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

Derek listened intently to the explanation and asked, "For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer." Oh, the woes of a broken heart, but despite my pessimism, there were few things sadder than a depressed Scott McCall. "Even when I really wanted to, even when it was hard not to, sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants." Scott sighed. "Going four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh. . ."

He trailed off so I answered for him. "Like an open wound."

"Yeah," Scott said quietly, staring at the floor.

Derek picked up what he had grabbed earlier. "The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt."

"Ah, that's great," Stiles muttered.

"Do it," Scott said, resolute in his decision.

Derek started up the blow torch. A freaking blow torch. If I wasn't immune to fire, I would've flinched like Scott and Stiles. Stripping off my torn jacket, I knew I was going to be needed. I set it down next to Isaac's legs and moved over to the three boys.

"That's a-that's a lot for me," Stiles said, surprised and eyes wide. "So I'm gonna take that as my cue." He pointed towards the door. "I'm just gonna wait outside."

Derek grabbed him before he could walk very far. "Nope. You can help hold him down."

"Won't Sara be fine doing that?"

"Kitsune aren't nearly as strong as werewolves," I reminded the human. Stiles reluctantly joined me by Scott. I pulled back my hair with a hair tie and put one firm hand on Scott's left shoulder and the other by the crook of his elbow so he couldn't move it. "No going back, you sure?"

Scott nodded and clenched his jaw, ready for the pain. Stiles put his hands on Scott's other shoulder. Derek descended with the blow torch, holding onto Scott's wrist as he went. I could feel the heat close to my face, but it didn't bother me nearly as much as it hurt Scott. He cried out in pain. Stiles and I strained our muscles to keep Scott down. My eyes flashed orange as I used all my strength.

Scott began to shift as a reaction to the unbearable pain as his skin burned and boiled until he passed out from the pain. Stiles and I still had to keep him steady while Derek continued torching Scott's arm.

Eventually, Scott woke up with a gasp, but thankfully after Derek had finished. Stiles looked like he wanted to puke but held it together better than he had at the tattoo parlor. Drenched in sweat, Scott looked down at his arm. "It worked," he said with a smile.

Scott pulled his shirt back on, keeping the left sleeve up to look at it. "Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles said as the three of us took a few steps away from Derek, walking towards the door.

Scott ran his hand over it before pulling down his sleeve. "I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us-everything just changes so fast. Everything's so, uh, ephemeral."

"Studying for the PSAT's?" Stiles asked.

"He better be," I said. "Worked hard this summer to get him caught up." I patted Scott on the shoulder. "Well, it looks good. Don't know why Stiles didn't like it."

Stiles rolled his eyes and Scott chuckled, reaching for the front door of the house. He opened it then paused to look at the red door. I furrowed my eyebrows and tilted my head. It was only painted on one side.

"You painted the door," Scott said, raising his voice for Derek to hear. Scott, Stiles, and I looked over to Derek who was standing over Isaac's unconscious body again. "Why'd you paint the door?"

"Go home, Scott," Derek told him. He had a faraway, sad look in his eyes.

Scott ran his hand up the door. "And why only one side?" Scott flicked out his claws and scratched a line of paint off the door.

"Scott," Derek called out. He started walking over, but Scott continued scratching the door to show what hid beneath. Derek stopped beside me and folded his arms over his chest, all of us looking on as Scott stopped, enough paint scratched away to show the hidden symbol.

A geometric triskele.

My blood ran cold at the sight of it. "No," I muttered, taking a few steps back, my shoulder bumping against Derek's. "It can't be." The Alpha Pack. Everyone in the supernatural community knew of them and the bloodbath left in their wake.

"The birds at school and the deer last night-just like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the alpha." Scott turned to Derek and me. "How many are there?"

Derek sighed. "A pack of 'em. An alpha pack."

"All of them?" Stiles wondered. "How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader," Derek explained to Stiles and Scott. "He's called Deucalion. We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac, and I have been looking for them for the last four months."

I groaned, rubbing my neck. "No wonder you and he didn't tell me." This whole mess was giving me a headache.

Derek looked at me. "If it's any consolation, I told him not to."

Scott took a step forward. "Let's say you find them. How do you deal with an alpha pack?"

"With all the help I can get."

"Where is she?" a voice asked from the other room. All four of us turned to see Isaac sitting up. He still looked a little out of it, but at least he was alright. "Where's the girl?"

Derek glanced at us, but even we were confused, and I, for damn sure, was dying to know what the hell my boyfriend meant. Derek looked back at his beta. "What girl?"

Chikushō - Oh hell, oh shit, damn it