seven.

(Jacob)

He feels as if he's barely closed his eyes when a hand shakes his arm. He groans, twisting his face into the worn back pillows of the couch which smell of wolf and boy and pack. It's reassuring, familiar, and more than likely the only reason he managed to fall asleep at all.

There's only one other place in the world he would have managed such a feat.

Sam pushes at his shoulder. "Wake up."

"No."

The long-suffering sigh that follows is one only ever used when he's around — not even Paul manages to give Sam as much trouble as he does — and Jacob thinks that if he opens his eyes he will see Sam pinching the bridge of his nose for added effect. He might even possibly be silently throwing up a prayer for help from Taha Aki himself.

Jacob ignores it and turns away again, burrowing into the mixed scents of his brothers. He doesn't care.

"It's almost sundown. Get up."

"No."

"Jacob." Sam draws out his name with frustration. And Jacob, damn him, feels a chill run up his spine, his body unable to do anything else in response to the order which threatens in his Alpha's throat.

Fine. Fine, he thinks, slowly uncurling himself. Every inch of him aches. The familiarity of the couch might have sent him quickly to sleep but it hadn't stopped him from being plagued with dreams he's never had before. He can feel just how fitful, how restless his sleep has been. Those dreams had been so real, so vivid . . .

"Any time today, Jacob."

"C'mon, Jake!" Seth calls, his voice far too close for Jacob's liking. It yanks uncomfortably at the new thread which has latched around his heart and recognises Seth for who he is. Family. Brother. Something more. "Time to go!"

Jacob reluctantly cracks an eye open to the light. And sure enough, there is Sam holding his nose and there is Seth bouncing on his feet, both looking prepared to tip him onto Emily's carpet without apologies.

Jacob groans again, and though he knows the answer, can feel it wickedly taunting him, he asks, "Where are we going?"

Seth grins. "Patrol!"

Of course.

"Kill me," he tells them, tone entirely devoid of any kind of humour, but his bad luck seems to be on a running streak because they only roll their eyes at him, not able to take him seriously. "I mean it."

Seth just turns his grin to Sam. "Now?" he asks.

"Now," Sam agrees, and they pull him off the couch.

Assholes.

The redhead must have caught wind of Bella's tiny, psychic leech, Sam tells them, because she hasn't come anywhere near their lands since. He's keeping the pack on red alert, of course, but he seems so certain that she won't appear again until Bella does that he's given everyone the night off.

Everyone except for Jacob and Seth, that is.

"You're in charge," Sam says, "so we'll wake up and be right there if you call. Have fun."

The bastard has the nerve to smile at them before he shuts the door, but Seth only laughs before he turns to Jacob. Expectant, waiting, all too eager to get going.

He can't pull a face at the door when Seth's looking at him like that. So instead he takes a deep breath and trudges off the porch, setting off towards the forest which encompasses the house. Sam won't be smiling for much longer when he finds out — and neither will Seth, whose own smile seems to be splitting his face as he bounds after him.

He bounds. Damn kid is going to drive him to drink.

Well, he would if they could get drunk. Paul took one for the team a few weeks back to find out how much it would take for their senses to be impaired, but he'd had to guzzle two crates of beer at an alarming rate before he felt so much as a buzz. And that had only lasted ten minutes before his body had burnt it straight off.

It had been a solid attempt. Even Jacob was willing to admit that, while Embry had been so impressed that he'd hurried right back to the store to buy three more crates so he could try the same thing himself, scraping quarters out of Emily's swear jar before he went.

He'd belched for hours and hours afterwards, but it had proved a point: they couldn't get drunk. Which was probably a good thing, considering, but Paul had been annoyed all the same.

He and Embry were both probably doing something just as stupid with the night off they'd been given. Jacob tries not to think too much about what he would have done with his.

Not this, that's for sure.

Seth's arms are swinging, his strides long when he catches up. Jacob suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"You seem . . . happier."

"I like Emily," is all Seth offers as an explanation. He kicks out his right foot, and Jacob sees the bit of leather cord hanging from the kid's ankle to be used for tying his clothes up before he phases. His smile is still a mile wide. "She made me this — just like the one you have."

"Yeah, we all have one. It saves a lot of time."

Time which Jacob does not have. It has run out, stretched as far as it can go, and has left him stranded. He'd tried to give himself a little more by stalking around Emily's kitchen and grabbing all the food he could find, chewing slowly as he made painful conversation with everyone until Sam had pushed them out of the door.

He couldn't pretend to be sick, because they didn't get sick. Nobody had caught so much as a damn cold since they'd phased, their immune systems too efficient now, their healing abilities from all things too rapid. And nothing like exhaustion or plain fear was a good enough reason to not patrol in Sam's eyes. They had to be dead or dying to be excused.

Dead or dying . . . or retired. He'd thought about quitting — he had been thinking about it continuously ever since he'd first seen Leah, had really seen her, and had realised that she'll never accept him. He had almost handed in his resignation there and then, in that kitchen. But his temper is still too unpredictable to guarantee he'll never phase again, and he's not sure even that would be enough to stop the inevitable. It might put some sort of dampener on it, maybe, if he stops phasing, but he's pretty sure an imprint is a permanent thing. And control like that, control to stop, will take years. Sam doesn't even have a hope of retiring yet.

He could carry on trying to hide it from them, he supposes. It's a fool's shot, but maybe . . .

No. Definitely a fool's shot. Even if it were possible, what about Sam, who feels and hears and sees everything? It's a miracle he still doesn't know. A miracle that, even if he has felt something, sensed something, he's not asked or pried too deeply about it.

Jacob can't hide that Leah is in his head. All. The. Time. Even now, right this minute, whether she knows it or not she is pulling at his subconscious, calling him, shredding and clawing at every bit of self-control he has fought for over these last weeks.

And Jared and Sam — when they patrol, their imprint is a steady beat in their head, an underlying pulse along the foundations of the pack. Imprints are important — they are sacred, not something to be ignored. Sam and Jared could never have hidden it if they wanted to. Hell, Jared had imprinted during second period and spilled his guts to Kim by the end of the school day.

But Kim, Emily . . . they had both already harboured secret crushes for their wolves. Kim had tacked Jared's name onto hers in her diary, for God's sake, and Emily had always looked at Sam from afar ever since the day he had been introduced to the family.

(That offering of information about Emily was something they'd only found out after Jared brought Kim home for the first time.)

They'd wondered, then, if there was always this predetermined pull. But while Jacob has always thought Leah a force of nature, he hasn't ever wanted her like this before. She is strictly, strictly off-limits; they've grown up together and his sisters would have teased him stupid if he'd ever shown something towards her, because she and Seth are practically family. It would have been weird.

He blows out a breath. He is absolutely done for.

"Kid. Before we do this—"

"I know. Make sure nobody can see, don't hurt anyone and save your clothes, yeah?" Seth says excitedly, already stepping out of his shorts. "I think we're good, though. Nobody's here except for us."

"Hang on a minute. I want to talk to you."

But what he wants to say flies right out his head when Seth smiles like that, and Jacob understands what he has to do.

There can be no mental disorganisation in the pack. Not if the redhead is coming back. Not if they are going to have to fight the Cullens. They have to be one solid, indestructible unit, with no pretences between them. They won't be able to function otherwise.

It's the only reason Jacob hadn't faked death in Emily's kitchen, because he knows this. Deep down, he knows that he will have to come clean because the pack has to be together on everything. Sam will stand for nothing less.

And it's that thought which makes him say, "Seth, you don't have to be okay with this—" he waves his hands about stupidly, a little bit manically "—or anything, you know. I mean, we couldn't even get you to phase back twenty-four hours ago. Twelve hours ago you were barely speaking. And now you're all excited and stuff, and it's . . . well, it's weird, kid."

"So what?"

He's never hated himself as much as he does right now. He's such a fucking hypocrite. "So I'm saying you don't have to be."

Seth frowns. "Why not? You're okay with it. Sam's okay with it. The others seemed fine—"

"I'm not. This is . . . It's insane, Seth, that we have to do this, you know that, right? It might seem fun at first, but it's really anything but. It's real hard, kid."

"I — I know," he says, dropping his shorts. "I know that. But — Jake, what else is there?"

Jacob doesn't have an answer for that. "It shouldn't be this way," he says instead of replying. "You don't have to pretend that it's okay, because it's not. You're not going to be able to keep pretending when you phase. You can't. You're going to throw everyone off, so trust me when I say it's better to stop now. Stop pretending."

"I'm not—" Seth starts, but he can't finish. He gulps, and what composure he has been keeping together finally fractures. Because no — Seth is not okay with this. Seth is just trying to get on with it, because he doesn't want to — can't think about anything else. And he's taking his lead from everybody else because he doesn't know what else to do. Because nobody's shown him a better way.

Seth's throat bobs again. And then he erupts.

"I don't know what else to do. I can't . . . You saw what I did, Jake! I killed him — killed him, he's dead — I did that, it's my fault! And now everything's so messed up and I can't think anymore and I — I thought it was a bad dream and then it wasn't but there's nothing I can do about it so I have to pretend, Jake, I have to—"

He crumples to the ground, his breathing ragged. But it's not like the hot gasps before a phase takes hold. It's just pure . . . brokenness, and Jacob cannot help but fall with him.

"Seth, you didn't kill Harry. Look at me." He grabs Seth's shoulders, his face which is streaked with tears. "Look at me. Hey. It's not your fault. You know your old man had a bad heart. Billy said he'd been taking pills since he was a kid, that he hadn't been taking care of himself like he should have been. Look at me, Seth."

Seth drags his eyes up, the whole action a struggling effort. And when his eyes — Leah's eyes, Jacob thinks with a pang — meet his own, they are flat. Cold. Empty.

"You didn't kill your dad, Seth," Jacob tells him again, throat tight, "just like I didn't kill my mom after Billy let me help him change the oil two days before, okay? It just . . . happened."

He's never shared that before, not willingly. The reason why he'd holed himself up in the garage and had blamed himself for years and years, why he hadn't faced any of it until his sisters had gotten on that plane to Hawaii without looking back. Leaving him. But not, he'd finally learned, because he had been the reason their mom was dead. It was not his fault.

"My dad knows that. Your mom knows that. And so does your sister, okay?"

Seth's tears pool again, but recognition flares in his face against them. Faintly, but enough of it that Jacob feels a glimmer of hope that he'll be able to get the kid back on his feet.

"I'm sorry," he says after a long moment. God, he's such an asshole. "Just — it's really important. For everyone. I don't want you to fake it, okay? Don't even bother. It'll only make it worse, trust me. Trust us. We're pack."

Seth takes a breath as if he's about to say something, but after a thought swallows it back. He nods, and swipes lamely at his eyes, taking another lungful of air to steady himself as his hands drop in his lap.

He sits like that for a while, and Jacob is content to give him as much time as he needs. Sam's right — the redhead won't come back, not until Bella does. Patrol can wait, and not only because he's frightened to fall on four paws and let everyone see into his mind. He doesn't think Seth particularly wants him listening in right now, either.

Shit. He truly is a hypocrite. Nothing was worth breaking Seth in like that.

Fuck the greater good. Fuck the treaty. He'd thought the same when he had punched Sam, after Sam had pried some of his deepest secrets from him too. And Sam had beaten him right back, all the way into the ground until he was a sobbing mess.

He kind of wants Seth to hit him now. But he knows he won't, even if he asks.

So he waits.

Eventually, when darkness has finally set in, Seth stretches his legs out, his sigh just as long.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Seth rubs at his face and sighs once more. "This really blows."

Jake bumps his shoulder, his smile small. "Attaboy." He stands, his hand offered out, and pulls Seth to his feet who dutifully ties his shorts to his ankle.

When Seth squares his shoulders again, new resolve clearing in his eyes, Jacob can see why Leah had so vehemently refused her little brother to be part of this. He could kill those bloodsuckers — no, he will kill those bloodsuckers for the way this fourteen-year-old has to steel himself. That treaty is going to be torn to shreds when he's done.

"What now?" Seth asks.

"Well—" I don't know, kid, I'm kinda making this up as I go along "—you can go home, if you want. I can take this one."

Seth frowns. "On your own? No. I mean, I gotta start somewhere, right? If this is what we have to do, then . . . let's do it."

"Right."

Silence falls enough as Jacob stares into the depths of the forest, towards something even he can't see, that Seth clears his throat. "Jake? You okay, man?"

"Sure," he says, but he doesn't stop looking, searching, and it's with a faint sort of horror that he realises what exactly it is — who it is he's looking towards. Without even realising. Just like Sam, and just like Jared . . . There is that thread which is reeling him in and in without him even being aware of what's happening until it crashes down on him.

It takes everything he has to not put a step in that direction and go running towards where that thread ends.

Hell.

It's going to disrupt everything. It's going to throw Seth off any kind of training and guidance which Jacob has been appointed to give. Because these first days are the most important, after getting a new wolf back on his feet. It's make or break. If he himself hadn't been put in his place by Sam, he knows he would have been so disorganised that he wouldn't have known which way was up for weeks and weeks. And though he hadn't intended it, he has most certainly become that person for Seth now.

"Jake?"

"Yeah, kid." He shakes himself. "You ready?"

Seth stands to attention. It's almost funny.

"Okay." Jacob shucks off his own shorts, if only so he can give himself something to do. Anything other than having to look at Seth's face as he starts to wrap them up and says, "We've got a lot to go through."

"I can do it."

"I know you can, Seth," he assures him, gut twisting as he ties his shorts to his leather cord (he's going to rip those leeches to pieces, burn them until they are ash in the wind), "just . . . keep an open mind, yeah? It's going to be easier because it's only going to be me and you, but that means there's a lot more to hear."

Seth shrugs. "You heard everything already."

"Yeah," he agrees easily, taking four steps back, "but you haven't."

"Like what?"

But Jacob has already summoned the fire in his belly, heat flooding through him within an instant. It's very, very easy — easier now that he's determined and knows what he has to do. The oncoming phase runs up along his spine, pushing out towards his arms, his legs, and within a second he is digging his claws into the earth.

So, so easy.

"Wow," Seth says.

Jacob snorts, shaking out his red fur as he stretches out, dipping low, feeling every joint respond and work together. He is glad for the relief it brings. Like he's been caged, and is now free to roam. But the silence is strange. He's not been alone like this for as long as he can remember, and it's almost like being in his own head again. Safe, private.

Daringly, he casts out a forbidden thought to make sure.

Silence.

It's fantastic.

Jacob sits back on his heels and cocks his head at Seth. Come on, then.

It takes a while. Three scrunches of Seth's face which has lost all the puppy fat he had at Christmas and looks six, seven years old than it really is. Five grunts of struggling effort. But Jacob just waits, because this is another one of those things which Seth has to learn on his own. It's his body, his will alone which invokes the change now rippling over his body and has him standing as tall as a horse.

Phew. Seth shivers. Thought I'd never do it.

It gets easier, he replies, valiantly trying to keep his thoughts clear. Focused. He watches himself through Seth's mind, which never stops being seventeen kinds of freaky, looking a little larger and imposing than normal — but perhaps that's because Seth's the smallest of them, the youngest, a child looking at a grown-up despite the huge growth spurt he's had.

I'm not a child. Seth bristles, his sandy-coloured tail flicking in response. I'm fourteen.

Jacob squishes the memory of Leah standing in front of him at the stove, barefoot and defiant and beautiful with her lopsided ponytail as she had reminded him they're all teenagers, really.

Sure, kid. He huffs. Let's get going.

If Seth has noticed anything, he doesn't comment. He's too wrapped up in himself, staring down at his surprisingly steady feet as they prowl through the woods, marvelling at how huge his paws are, what colour they are, how easily he can retract his dark claws, how sharp they are, how he can feel with them.

Wow, Seth says again, surprise coating his tone now that he has finally taken the time to look at himself this way. Before it had just been running and hiding, trying to escape himself. This here is acceptance, of sorts, learning himself as he goes.

It's a good start.

Jacob begins making for the river, keeping his mind focused on Seth the whole way, and begins to show Seth the boundary lines which define their territory.

As they move, he can feel Seth's suspicion that he's being watched to make sure that he's acting okay, that he's not about to slip up and do something wrong. And Jacob, more than happy to pretend otherwise, doesn't let him think differently.

Here? Seth asks when they get close to the slippery riverbank.

You can smell it? Jacob asks, and Seth nods, thinking about the faint smell of sweetness he has caught and the way that it slightly burns his nose. Good. It doesn't get so bad here, with the water and it being so damp, and what you can smell is all mostly the redhead anyway. With the Cullens gone, they haven't retraced their lines in months.

Seth eyes the invisible border with hesitancy. What happens if you cross here?

You can cross, Jacob tells him, just don't do it on four legs.

But they can't cross into ours? Into La Push? His thoughts instantly fly to his mother and sister, a deep need to protect them seeping into his bones as he comprehends what he has been made for: to keep his tribe safe and defend them until his last breath.

Never. We kill them if they do. We have killed them — one of them, the one I told you about. They knew him, but he wasn't part of their . . . coven. The redhead knew him, too. I think they were together.

Jacob thinks of Bella, and allows the memory of her revelation to play out across his and Seth's shared link. Laurent. Victoria. James. That scar on Bella's—

They bit her? Seth is horrified; his ears flatten against his head as he recoils from the memory in his disgust.

("What's that?" he hears himself say. "This is your funny scar, the cold one."

"Yes, it's what you think it is," Bella's echo whispers. "James bit me.")

Seth growls, unable to stop himself. His teeth, as sharp as his newfound claws, gleam against the moonlit water as the wildlife around them scatters in fright until there's nothing, nobody around but them, not even the fish in the river.

I know, is all Jacob can reply.

How can you stand it? That they got that close to her?

Jacob remembers how he had barely kept himself in his skin as he turns his back and starts heading for the edge which separates La Push and Forks — the one which has more of a distinct smell of them on one side and home on the other: the official treaty line.

The boundaries aren't so invisible, if you know what to search for, if you press your nose close enough. Sight alone isn't enough, even if they all think their territory is more beautiful and can be defined by its vibrancy — if only because they are in it, because it's theirs no matter what the government or any bloodsuckers might say. Their lands are full of trees and mountains and rivers which flow into the ocean and beat against their cliffs; they are fifty miles of stretching and rolling, plush lands, and far, far too big for a pack of this size to cover so thoroughly on their own.

There will be more of them soon. Quil is so close it's becoming unbearable. But that will only make seven. Still not enough, even if it will put them on a level-playing field with the Cullens when they all come back. Odds which will tip out of their favour again if Bella returns to Forks with crimson eyes and brings her new family's number to eight.

How many more? Two, three, four?

Maybe we won't see them again, Seth says with quiet hope. He doesn't want them anywhere near his family, and Jacob is inclined to feel the same.

They will.

He picks up their speed then; they've got a lot of ground to cover, a lot of markers for Seth to learn and become accustomed to, but he's not worried. The kid's confidence is sky-rocketing and as long as he focuses on now, he'll do okay.

At the treaty line, he has Seth try and pick out the different scents of the bloodsuckers. What is Cullen, and what is the redhead, which is easier with one being more fresh than the other. He has Seth guess at the different sounds around them, and soon realises that whilst he might be the strongest and Jared might have the best eyesight, Seth definitely has the best ears of the pack.

Seth stands taller with the compliment, and starts working even harder. He recognises the next border after only a second, all without help from Jacob's thoughts which he purposefully kept as clear as possible for the test.

Good. Really good, Seth, he says, and Seth's pride washes over him as if it were his own. Okay. Perimeters next. Embry's been digging out a new route a bit closer to home — see if you can find it.

And so they go on, and on and on and on without rest, not even a moment to pause, and towards the end of it Jacob is so drained — mentally drained, from keeping his secrets in favour of giving Seth the guidance he desperately needs — that he finds a spot not too far from the Rez and thinks that even in the mud he could take a decent nap, right there. . .

It's difficult to keep his focus, but he's managing. Barely, but he is, by some blessed miracle. It will be worse when more phase in, providing more tangents of thoughts to pick up and bleed into his own, because he'll be damned the second he feels Sam and Jared's quiet, unrestrained pining for their imprints and he latches onto it with his own wishful thinking. When they want, he wants, and just like that the rest of the pack will want, too. They are one.

Who will be the first to feel exactly what he wants when he looks into Seth's eyes and sees—

What's that? Seth asks, curiosity spiking as if he's heard his name but has been too engrossed in something else and missed part of the conversation.

Jacob shuts down. Nothing. Just thinking about the hive mind thing.

I wondered about that earlier. Before — when Sam was trying to get me out of the cave. Why can he hide most of what he thinks? Like he's got his own private space, or something.

Because he's an ass, Jacob thinks, but he can't do anything about it because he has settled for being second-in-command. Because he's Alpha. Think about it. If he was freaked or something, then the rest of us wouldn't have a chance in hell. It would be pure chaos. What we feel has an effect on everyone else. Him the most.

Huh. Makes sense, I guess. Seth falls into trot beside him. Can you do it? You're in charge, aren't you?

I don't think so. I'm Second. And if neither of us are around, he can leave others in charge like Jared but the orders don't work right. Not so much weight to them.

So you're like . . . Beta?

Yeah, that. Can't switch off the same, though, Jacob says, and he knows the jealousy he feels towards Sam about it slips through whatever barriers he has managed to erect. Would be nice if the rest of us could have some privacy, too.

Seth readily agrees as Jacob silently chokes the life out of another stray thought, fixing his eyes on the thinning trees above. Dawn is not far away. They've been at it all night, and it's becoming harder to shield his lies.

Go home, kid. Get some rest. You did good tonight.

You sure?

We're only a mile out from the Rez. Go. It's fine.

Okay. He can feel how uncertain Seth feels about it, but eventually his exhaustion wins out and he nods his massive head. Are you coming?

His heart leaps, and he knows Seth has heard the skipping beat. Huh?

I thought . . . I dunno, I feel weird. I thought it was you and that you wanted to come, too. You can, if you want. They won't mind.

Maybe I'll swing by later. You go, Seth. Sleep. That's an order.

Thankfully, Seth doesn't need to be told twice, and Jacob collapses the second the kid is on two feet and out of sight. He listens, though, as Seth runs towards the place they both want to be most.

He is the worst person ever.