Chapter 11: Battlefield
AN: Okay, only one more chapter after this until the revisions of Carry On Wayward Winchester will be complete! Whoo-hoo! After the book is all wrapped up, I will reupload the revised summer stories in collection called Wayward Summer. This collection will only be for short stories that happened the summer before Team Tiny Wolf Brain's junior year.
~Carry On~
Cas's Perspective:
She had called out to me, so confident that I would come and aide her. I wanted to, but I couldn't I was too ashamed. I couldn't let her see me, she would know what I have done. She would tell Dean, and I couldn't have them interfering. I needed to do what I had to in order to save heaven and the world from Raphael. Now her prayers come with curses, she feels like I have abandoned her. She feels like she had no one left.
I am sorry Jameson Winchester, I have failed you.
~Carry On~
Stiles' Perspective:
"You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out," I explained as I laced my lacrosse stick, "It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But when you finally do let it in that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful."
"Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?" Ms. Morell, the guidance counselor, asked. And for a moment all I can picture is Jameson snorting and saying something like how the only thing she felt sorry about was the fact she didn't get to shoot him in the dick. God, I hope she doesn't say it when it's her turn. But in a way she's right, why feel sorry for him or wish him peace. He was killing people.
"I don't feel sorry for him." I ended up telling her.
"Can you feel sorry for the 9 year-old Matt who drowned?"
"Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one." I responded, "And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of picture of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean he Photo-Shopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train."
Ms. Morell gave me a weird smile, before starting to speak, "One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?"
"Yeah," I answered referencing my father's return to the force, "but I still feel like there's something wrong between us. I don't know. It's just, like, tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott?"
"Have you talked to him since that night?"
"No, not really." I said as I tugged one of the laces tighter, "I mean, he's got his own problem to deal with, though. I don't think he's talked to Allison, either. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. It seems like it brought her and her dad closer.
"What about your friend Jackson?"
"Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is that right now Lydia is the one who seems the most normal."
"And what about your foster sister…. Jameson Winchester." She asked looking down at some of her papers, "She was there that night, correct? How is she dealing with all of this?"
Like she's preparing for battle, retreating more into herself, yelling at some guy name Castiel, sneaking in werewolves in the middle of the night.
"Jameson? She's…acting like Jameson."
"How so?"
"Like she's seen this all before, like nothing fazes her."
"Do you believe her?"
"No."
Morell nods.
"And what about you, Stiles?" Ms. Morell asked, "Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?"
"Why would you ask me that?" I asked around the lace in my mouth. I then noticed what I was doing. "Oh. Uh,no, I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another's missing, who knows right?"
"You mean Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?"
"How come you're not taking any notes on this?" I asked deflecting the question.
"I do my notes after the session."
"Your memory is that good?"
"How about we get back to you?" She redirected the conversation. I looked down, "Stiles?"
"I'm fine." I answered, "Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen."
"It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat."
"But it's not just a feeling, though. It's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe."
"Like you're drowning." Ms. Morell said, and I got the feeling this is what she was looking for the whole time.
"Yeah."
"So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?"
"Well, you do anyway it's a reflex."
"But if you hold off until the reflex kicks in, you have more time right?"
"Not much time."
"But more time to fight your way to the surface?"
"I guess."
"More time to be rescued?"
"More time to be in agonizing pain. And did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding?"
"If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?"
"And what if it just gets worse?" I asked, "What if it's agony now, and then…it's just hell later on?"
"Then think about something Winston Churchill once said, 'If you're going through hell, keep going.'"
~Carry On~
Jameson's Perspective:
After what happened over Spring Break the Sheriff decided that Stiles and I needed counseling. So, he set up appointments for us with the counselor at school, Ms. Moore…no, Morell. Apparently, she was also the French teacher or something. Frankly, I was against the whole thing. I was a firm believer in the Winchester method of suppressing emotion through alcohol, but ah…something told me the Sheriff wouldn't be down for that.
Stiles offered for me to go first, thinking I would flee the school the moment he let me out of his sight. He was really pushing this therapy to help regain his father's trust and apparently part of that rebuilding was making me toe the line too. Luckily for me Stilinski comes before Winchester in the alphabet, and he got to meet with Ms. Morell first. I shot him a smug look as he followed her into her office. He made a face at me, before the door closed. Even though I really didn't want to, I ended up staying. I figured at least one of us deserved not to be a disappointment to our fathers. Well that and the prospect of making her crack. I wonder where a shrink goes when they need therapy.
I hear the click of a door, and look up to see Ms. Morell opening the door to her office.
"Thank-you, Stiles, for coming in. Good luck with your game tomorrow." She said. Stiles gave her a tight smile before moving around her. He walks over to me.
"Do you want me to wait here or out in the Jeep for you?"
"Out in the car is fine; you look like you need air anyway." I told him. He nodded, and started to walk off but stopped short of the exit. He turned around and looked at me.
"I think I better stay here, you got that look on your face. I have nightmares about that face."
"Ooh, what a smooth talker you are. I hope you don't say things like that to the future Mrs. Stilinski."
He rolled his eyes and took the seat next to me.
"Jameson?" Ms. Morell said. I turned to look at her, "Would you like to come in?"
I turned back to Stiles. He narrowed his eyes at me and pointed towards her door.
"Apparently I would." I said as I stood up. She smiled and opened her door wider. I walked through the evil doorway and took a seat in front of her desk.
"Jameson Winchester," she said as she sat down, "That's quite an interesting name."
"Whiskey and rifles, what's not to like." I said with a shrug. She smiled at me in a way that told me she predicted my answer and that I didn't disappoint her. I didn't like that.
"Now Jameson, why don't you tell me about a little about yourself."
"Well, I'm an Aquarius. My favorite actor is Clint Eastwood. I love all things Dirty Harry. And my life goals include owning a garage that restores classic cars. And I do not like long walks on the beach."
"Quite a list there." She commented, "What about your family?"
"I'm sorry, but how are they relevant to the trauma I experienced?" I asked. She indicated, she meant no offense and held up a slim file.
"Just asking some basic information questions, your file is a little light." She replied. Yeah right lady, "The Sheriff mentioned that you were in foster care, how long have you been in the system?"
"About four years." I lied, using my dad's death as reference.
"And none of them stuck?"
"Nope, I kept trying to go home. But the state didn't believe that my uncle was a suitable guardian."
"And your last home, what made you leave and come here instead of going home?"
"Don't get me wrong my foster mom was okay, she was a lying whore, but I've had worse." I twisted my few days with Lisa, "She had a kid of her own and she had just started seeing this guy and they were already talking about starting their own family and stuff. What place did a sixteen year old girl have? I liked the kid though; he's probably the only one I miss."
"What was his name?"
"Ben." I said with a smile, I had liked Ben he was a cool kid, "He was some years younger than me but we got along well, we were both way into classic cars and stuff."
"And have you contacted him since you left?"
"I left in the middle of the night for a reason lady."
"And what made you choose Beacon Hills?"
"I just picked a spot on the map."
She nodded her head again.
"And now the Sheriff has taken you in."
"Yeah, it's not official or anything yet, but apparently my social worker is thrilled that I actually made friends and is working to get everything set up for me here."
"The Sheriff as well it seems. He came in earlier this week and put himself down as your emergency contact and I heard he was asking about how to file for legal guardianship."
"I didn't know he did that," I said softly. I was surprised to be sure, I mean he talked to me about staying on a more permanent basis, but I didn't know he was serious.
"Looks like things might be looking up for you after all," Ms. Morell said. I just nodded, picking at the strings of my torn jeans, "Now why don't you tell me what happened the other night."
"Well, Stiles and Scott like to think they are the Hardy Boys or something. They had been following the case for a while and doing a little investigating of their own, and somehow I got dragged into being their Nancy Drew." I said with an amused smile, "We actually came up with some really good theories, or what we though were good theories until we came across something about Matt. It was pretty damning and we took it straight to the Sheriff. He got us in to the station and we were able to connect Matt to four of the murders. Somehow Matt knew what we were up to, I don't know how maybe he was watching us or the station to see what they knew or whatever. But he found us and decided pointing a gun at us was his only way out. He handcuffed the Sheriff in the backroom, had us destroy all the evidence before locking me and Stiles in the office, he took Scott somewhere else because his mom was coming to identify Matt. There was a gunshot and then all the lights went out and even more gunshots. I got separated from everybody in the confusion."
"The Sheriff said you got out and you ran." Ms. Morell said.
Derek gave me a weird look before slipping his arm under me and picking me up.
"What about the Sheriff?" I asked.
"He's better off staying out of this." Derek answered, "Now get ready to shoot our way out of here."
"Let's roll," I said prepping the gun. Derek nodded and headed out the room. We headed out deeper in the back and found a back exit and Derek barged through it. He kept heading towards the woods, but something caught his attention and he moved off course. He walked over to we reached a small creek and let my legs down, holding the rest of me up. I looked to see what had caught his attention and see Matt. He's dead, and to make it even better he had been drowned.
"Well there's one down." I said to Derek, "Kind of disappointed I didn't get to shoot him in the dick."
Derek smirked before growing serious.
"Now where's number two?
"I ran to find a phone so I could call the state police." I told her after a beat.
"Are you sure?" she asked, "The Sheriff didn't go in to much detail, but he mentioned how the station was a similar situation to the one that took your mother's life. "
I just clenched my jaw.
"It's okay to say you were afraid, Jameson, anyone would have been." She said, her tone expressing she expected an answer. When I remained silent she tried again, "Jameson, did this remind you of your mother's death? If you keep things buried you'll never heal."
"This may not be the right time, kid, but I got to know," the Sheriff started a few days after the incident at the station, "Why did you lie to me about the foster care?"
I refused to look at him. If I was going to sell this I had to really go for it.
"Okay," he said after he realized I wasn't talking, "I'll just call the state tomorrow and see about getting you a good placement."
He got up with expectant look on his face like he thought this would be the thing to make me crack. I just looked away while biting my lip.
"Okay, then," He said before walking towards my door. I waited to he had put one foot out before speaking.
"The Cole Compound." I said softly. He stopped and turned around.
"What?"
"The Cole Compound Massacre."
"I heard about, it was that militia compound out in Mon…tana."
I nodded.
"I was three years old. My mom was a Cole but my Dad was from outside the Compound. Because of my family's position, my father and my brothers were given special privileges and could come and go as they please. One weekend, my D-dad dropped off my brothers to stay for the weekend…" I stumbled over my story for a moment, because in order to sell this lie, I had to tell part of the truth, "I was so excited-my big brothers were coming to stay with me. I made a whole of things for us to do. I wore myself out more than I did them. I was asleep when the fire started, Mom had but me to bed, then she came rushing in and shoved me in my oldest brethren's arms and told him to take his brother and sister and run. So, he did."
"Oh, God. I'm so so-"
I hold my hand up to stop him I don't want his pity.
"My brother took us into town and called Dad, he was nearby and got there in a couple of hours. After he checked on us, he goes up to the Compound to see what can be done. But it had been turned to ash. He found a few members of the militia, they had been out for the day getting supplies, and had just gotten back to see...Anyway, Dad wasn't thrilled with having to take me on the road with him and tried to get one of the survivors to take me in but none of them could so I travelled around the country with my Dad and some of my brothers until I was twelve. That's when he dropped me off at Uncle Bobby's place, and I spent three years there until the other shoe dropped. I probably waited most of my life for that shoe and when it happened I was actually relieved. Strange as that is. About a year ago, two of the Coles showed up at my house, someone was finishing the job they started 12 years ago and was taking out the survivors one by one. They wanted me to come with them, something about a moving target being harder to kill or something like that," I said with a bitter smirk, "Bobby told me I should go, he wasn't as young as he used to be and what was a bottle of whiskey going to do against a gun. So I travelled with them for a few months, but then they found us. We were in Chicago, it got really dicey and one of the Coles was killed. The other one told me to run as far as I could and not to look back, so I did. And I haven't stopped running ever since. When I told Stiles that I ran away from my foster parents it was just because it was easier, safer to do so. I wasn't just lying for the hell of it."
"Why haven't you gone to the FBI or the police about this?"
I raised an eyebrow at him, implying with a look that one of those groups couldn't be trusted.
"Oh." He said. "Well you're not running now, what made you stop?"
I shrug.
"I guess I felt safe here."
"And your paperwork with the school, how did you forge it?"
"You learn a few things on the run."
He nodded.
"Well, you're not going to have to run anymore." The Sheriff said, "You are safe here."
I nodded, and gave him what I hoped was a hopeful smile. He nodded awkwardly and left my room. Barely a beat later, Stiles came into my room.
"Dude, where did you come up with that story?" He asked sounding impressed, "Because that…that was awesome."
"Didn't you ever see Pirates of the Caribbean?" I asked softly getting up and heading to the door, "You lie by telling the truth, or well atleast, telling part of the truth."
I wanted to run; this was not how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to break her.
"I'm only afraid when things seem like they are going to well, because I never know where the hits are coming from." I told her darkly, "That night I knew where the hits where coming from, violence is something I'm very familiar with. I ran to find a phone to get help."
"Okay," Ms. Morell said with that knowing look of hers I was beginning to really hate.
"Are we done here?" I asked. When she didn't answer I stood up and said, "Good, thanks. Nice talk I feel so much better."
Ms. Morell smiled again.
"Just remember, Jameson, I'm here for you when you're ready to talk about what's really bothering you." She said as I touched the door handle.
"Well, I wouldn't hold your breath about that," I told her sarcastically, "I think I'll stick with the old family remedy for psychological problems."
"Which is?"
"Drink away the demons you can't kill." I said with a smirk, before throwing the door open and leaving her office. I stalked past Stiles and headed for the exit. I heard him quickly scramble for his stuff and then scramble after me.
"James, wait up!" I heard him call after me, but I ignored him and continued to walk in direction of where he had parked his Jeep, "Come on, James."
I huffed and slowed down enough for him to catch up.
"What happened in there?" he asked.
"What happened in there was she was a nosy bitch." I said bitingly. I may have gained some ground with my exit, but the truth was she made me run. She was asking questions I didn't want to answer. It was also like she was implying she already knew the answers. And I really didn't like it when people to seem know more about me than I did. They usually ended up trying to kill me later on.
"She's a therapist, Jameson it's her job to be a nosy bitch."
"Well, I'm not a fan." I shot back, "Next time you want back in your Dad's good graces leave me out of it. I had a shitty relationship with my father, and I survived."
"Well Jameson what else was I supposed to do? He doesn't trust me anymore." Stiles yelled at me, "And you've been weird the past few days, I thought it…"
"Would be good for me? Next time you want to help me, just give me a bottle." I told him, "And as for my behavior, Stiles, I'm preparing for battle, like you should be. It's them or us this time Stiles, and I can't afford to sit down and worry about some stupid game or some domestic shit. You don't go home until the war is over, Stiles."
"We're not soldiers, Jameson, we're just a bunch of teenagers."
"Not anymore." I said jerking open the passenger door and climbing in. I slammed the door shut, and sat there staring out the windshield. I heard Stiles mumble something and kick his tire before coming around the front of the Jeep to his door. He started the car and took off for his house. And we didn't say a word to each other for the rest of the day.
~Carry On~
Scott's Perspective:
Time was ticking. I could hear it, I could feel it. Any moment Gerard could decide my time was up and kill my mom, my friends-anyone he wanted. All he had to do was think it and Jackson would kill them without hesitation. My mom wanted me to give Gerard what he wants, but I don't….I don't know if I can. I never asked for any of this. And if I give Gerard Derek and his pack, who's to say he'll stop there.
Deaton could tell I was distracted when I came into work today. He gave me some small jobs to do around the office that didn't require me to think much. I want to ask him what he thought but got evasive when I tried to talk to him about what he knows.
Maybe I should talk to Jameson, her whole life has been seeped in the supernatural. She tends to be on the more violent side, but she's dealt with Gerard and Kanimas before. I haven't really talked to her since that night; it might be a good time to start.
The bells over the door go off distracting me from my thoughts.
"Would you mind seeing who that is?" Deaton asked me. I nodded and put down my stuff and started walking to the front, when all the dogs in the back started barking like crazy. They only did that when…a werewolf was nearby. Deaton's head snapped up and he put his stuff away and we both headed to the lobby. Isaac was standing there uncomfortably with his hands in his pocket. Deaton smiled and walked past me.
"It's okay, Isaac," he said opening the swing gate to allow him through, "We're open."
Isaac's face lit up and he stepped around Deaton to enter the exam room. He went straight for the dog that was on the table with a confused expression on his face. Deaton seemed like he was expecting this and continued with what he was doing before Isaac arrived. Isaac took a big sniff, and his eyes started tearing up from the smell.
"Why does it smell like that?" he asked. Deaton and I chuckled, confusing him even more, "What?"
"Scott said almost the same thing to me a few months ago." Deaton said, and I nodded. "One day he could somehow tell the difference between which animals were getting better and which were not."
"He's not getting better, is he?" Isaac asked. Deaton shook his head, "Like cancer?"
"Osteosarcoma." Deaton replied, "It had a very distinct scent, doesn't it? Come here."
Isaac looked up him in surprise before coming around the table to where Deaton was standing.
"I know you're well aware of what your new abilities can do for you. Improved strength, speed, and healing. You ever wonder what it could do for others." Deaton asked Isaac. Isaac gave us both a quizzical look, and Deaton offered his hand, "Give me your hand."
Isaac gave him his hand and Deaton moved it towards Mo.
"Go on," He said when he saw Isaac's hand was just lingering over the sickly dog. Isaac placed his hand on the dog. Black veins began creeping up his arm, surprising him. After a few moments Isaac pulled his hand away from Mo with tears in his eyes.
"What did I do?" he asked.
"You took some of his pain away." I answered,
"Only a little bit," Deaton added, "But sometimes a little can make quite a difference. "
Isaac cradled his hand to his face, and wiped a few tears away.
"It's okay," I assured him, "First time he showed me, I cried, too."
Isaac laughed a bit, and caught a few more tears. Deaton finishes up with Mo, and takes him back to the kennel. Deaton's going to be observing him through the night, since the attack that brought him in was worse than last time.
"They're leaving tonight, during the game." Isaac said once we were alone.
"So, why are you telling me?"
"I'm not telling you. I'm asking you. I'm asking for your advice.'
"From me? Why?" I asked confused. I thought he didn't like me.
"Because I trust you." He answered with a sigh.
"Why?"
"Because you always seem to want to do the right thing," He answered, "And because…Jameson seems to trust you.
"I usually have no idea what I'm doing." I told him truthfully, and then I thought about that for a second and amended it, "Actually, I always have no idea what I'm doing."
"Hmm, do you want to let me know what you're doing right now?"
"I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you mean. I have too many people here who need me."
"Well I guess that means I'm lucky, 'cause I don't have anyone, so…" he said, pushing himself of the exam table. He started headed for the front when I stopped him.
"What about Jameson, I thought you guys were…"
Isaac stopped short and sighed.
"I don't what we are, but I know she doesn't need me. I don't think she really needs anybody."
"That's not true, we all need someone. And you were her first friend here." I told him, "I think you should talk to her before you decide to go with them or not."
"Yeah but how to you tell the invincible girl you like, that you want to run?" Isaac asked bitterly.
"By just telling her, she'll understand. You're new to this."
Isaac nodded.
"Well, I guess I'll go hunt her down," he said with a grin, "Good luck with the game though."
"Well, thanks, but I'm not going either." I replied, "Can't even thing about playing some meaningless game right now."
"You weren't at practice last week were you?"
"No, I skipped it. Why?"
"Then you didn't hear."
"Hear what?"
"Jackson was there."
"What do you mean "there"? Like, he was…"
"As if nothing had happened."
"That means…The game tonight?"
"Yeah." Isaac confirmed, "He's playing."
~Carry On~
Isaac's Perspective:
Her scent it distinctive. A mixture of vanilla, leather, and something…smoky. Her scent was at the vet, old but there, it made it easier to tell the difference if I was close or not. Her scent was strong at the school, but she wasn't there. I followed a trail to Stilinski's house. I figured she must be up in her room.
There was a tree in the yard that grew right up beside her window. I pulled myself up a low hanging branch and climbed up to the big one that grew just a few inches away from the window ledge. She was facing away from the window, her long blonde hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and the loose strands fell around her face hiding it from me at this angle.
With her hair up, something new about Jameson was revealed-another tattoo. I caught sight of the one behind her ear during our math study sessions. It was a star like object with symbols, but I hadn't gotten a good look at it considering her hair covered it.
This new tattoo was just at the point where her neck met her back. It was a W drawn in a fancy script with a few things intertwined in the points. I squinted my eyes to see what they were, it looked like the letters D, S, J, and A. The A look newer though, the ink still looked pretty fresh, it had to be no more than a few months old. I wonder what it means.
A flash of silver caught my attention and I finally noticed what Jameson was doing. She was pulling out weapons from a duffle and placing them on her dresser. And even though I know that she could kill me with every single one of them, I still found it really hot.
I went to tap on the window, but before I could I heard the click of a gun. Jameson spun around quickly and leveled the gun at me head. She had a hard look on her face, but something about her seemed off. When she saw it was me, she rolled her eyes and lowered her gun. She strutted over to her window and raised it for me.
"You know I hear there this great new invention called a door, it lets people in houses without having to climb trees and porches to get in." She teased.
"Where's the fun in that?" I asked as I climbed in. She rolled her eyes with a grin and spun on her heel and resumed her work.
"So what brings you to Casa de la Stilinski?"
"I just wanted to say thanks for letting me crash here the other night." I sort of lied, "Your floor was a lot nicer than that shed Derek has us holed up in."
"No prob, what are friends for?" she said as she looked tested the edges of some ninja looking throwing stars.
"So what's with the weapon show?" I asked her.
"Just prepping for battle." She said lifting up a knife and running her finger across the blade, "Jackson and Gerard have thrown the gauntlet and I plan on throwing down a bigger one."
"Boyd and Erica are leaving tonight." I told her. She paused in her inspection and turned back to me.
"Why?"
"They're scared. Derek promised us a better life, not one like this."
"Idjits." She scoffed, "Haven't they ever seen a movie? Even those crappy Twilight movies showed the downsides."
"Well, I think we all just didn't want to be alone anymore."
"Then join a club." She said callously.
"It isn't always that simple, Jameson." I said through gritted teeth.
"Never said it was, I was just saying there were other ways besides becoming a werewolf."
"And what about me?" I asked her. She looked me up and down confused.
"You?"
"Yeah, am I an "idjit" too?"
She paused. I watched her shoulders turn in on herself.
"No, I would have probably done the same thing." She replied softly.
"They asked me to go with them."
"And you told them no, obviously." She said assuredly, as she looked into the mirror to see me. I just shrugged. She spun around, "You can't be serious?"
I shrugged again.
"You can't leave." She said.
"Why?" I asked, hoping she would say what that she needed me or something.
"Well for one, Derek needs you. If the other two are gone, who's going to take care of him?" She asked. I looked at her confused. Derek needs me?
"Derek doesn't need me; I can't even control myself on a full moon yet."
"He's an Alpha, you make him stronger and he makes you stronger."
"He's still got Scott."
"But Scott's not really part of the pack is he?" She asked. I didn't say anything, and she sighed, "Did it ever occurred to you that maybe Derek doesn't want to be alone anymore either?"
I looked at her confused. It's Derek, he's the big bad Alpha. He doesn't need anybody.
"That's not true, we all need somebody."
Scott's words from earlier come back to me. At the time we were speaking about Jameson, but maybe it does apply to Derek too. Maybe he wanted a family as much as I did.
"Besides," Jameson said intruding upon my thoughts, "strategically we could use the numbers. You can't fight for shit, but we could use you."
I chuckle at her description of my fighting skills.
"I thought you were trying to convince me to stay?"
"It's wartime, kid, I prefer to be blunt. You want kind lies, get a girlfriend."
Well I was hoping that she would eventually be, but I doubt even then Jameson would sugarcoat anything. Wrap it in layers of sarcasm to make it easier to go down, but no sugar coating.
"I don't know if Derek is enough of a reason for me to stay." I told her honestly.
"Well then don't do it for Derek, do it for you." She said, "Do you really want to want to run for the rest of your life?"
She had a point. Did I really want to run for the rest of my life? Would it be safer than staying here? Could I live myself knowing I was too much of a coward to stay and fight?
"Look, you don't have to decide right now." Jameson said softly, "Think about it and when you decide look at yourself in the mirror. And ask yourself if you can live with the person looking back at you."
"Is that what you do?"
"Yeah, most of the time the answers no," She answered, a sly smile appeared on her face, "But that's what alcohol's for."
I chuckled.
"And how's that working out for ya?" I asked her.
"Not good, but then I drink more and I feel a lot better." She replied. I gave her a half smile.
"Well, I guess I'm gonna go." I said. She looked up at me, her eyes flashing between surprise and disappointment, "I just meant I'm going to go think."
Her expression became relieved.
"Okay, let me know what you decide."
I nod. I stood there awkwardly for a minute; I wanted to reach across the distance between us and pulled her into me. I wanted to kiss her again like I had at the rave and run my hands down her body. She wasn't making things any easier, she was looking at me expectantly, just waiting for me to do something, anything. I just didn't know what I wanted or should do.
Before I could decide, her hand shoots out and grabs mine. She squeezes it gently before looking me in the eye.
"It's okay, Isaac." She said, "You can go."
She thought I was leaving. She didn't think I was going to stay. I nodded, and squeezing her hand back before pulling away and slipping out the window. Maybe I should go.
~Carry On~
Jameson's Perspective:
After Isaac left, I got ready for the game. According to Stiles, Jackson had been to practice every single day this week. And with tonight being the big game and practically everybody in town attending, it would be the perfect place for Gerard to put on a show. I was going full on Winchester tonight, armed to the teeth with weapons and sass.
I dug through my duffle and found a pair of dark wash jeans that had the least amount of holes and tears. I paired it with a black tank top and a dusty green cargo button up shirt. Lastly I grabbed my brown military style boots and my brown leather jacket. I release my hair from its bun and let it tumble down my back. I ran my brush through it a few times before fixing it up into a pony tail. I looked at myself in the mirror, and gave myself a once over. I looked battle ready. Happy with my uniform, I went to my weapons stash and pulled out my favorite hand gun and tucked in the back of my jeans, before grabbing several knives and throwing stars and stuffing them in the lining of my jacket. I took my wolfsbane infused silver knife and tucked it in its sheath in my boot. Lastly I pulled out some poppy seed powder and stuffed in in my back pocket.
Armed and ready to go, I grabbed my keys off my bed and headed out to my car. I drove to the school and parked in the front lot far from the field. I by-passed going to the sports ground in favor of heading to the locker room instead, I wanted to check on the boys before the game started.
I walked through the swinging doors of the locker room, amidst whistles and boys hastily covering themselves up. I spotted Scott first, sitting on a bench. As I got closer, I noticed something about how his head was angled; it was like he was listening in on a conversation. I felt myself tense up and I began looking around for who he might be listening in on. Then I spot him…Jackson in uniform talking to his friend Denny or Danny. Suddenly Scott's face goes from worried to freaking out and I have to know what's going on. I take a seat on the bench next to him.
"Nice face." I said startling Scott.
"What are you doing in here?" he whispered.
"I came to check on you and Spazway." I told him, "But now I'm more interested in what you overheard."
I nodded my head in Jackson and Danny's direction.
"I'm not really sure, but it's not good. Jackson was just warning Danny to stay in the goal tonight and if he saw Jackson coming at him for him to run as far away as possible."
"He's starting to remember." I said quietly as some other players walked by, "Whatever Gerard's planning it's going to happen tonight."
Scott nodded in agreement.
"Are you ready?" I asked Scott.
"No. Are you?"
I smirked.
"I'm always ready for fight." I answered, "To be honest I don't know what to do with myself when there isn't one."
"We can do this right?" Scott asks. I take his hand, and he looks at me in surprise.
"Don't turn into a girl on me now, McCall," I teased, "Look, we may not have all the answers, or the experience Gerard has but we what we do have is a righteous cause and a "give 'em hell" attitude and together we'll figure the rest out."
The corner of Scott's mouth lifted, giving me half a grin. But at this point I'll take it. I can't have him conking out on me now. As much as I like to think that I could take on the whole world, realistically I couldn't take on Jackson, Gerard, and a horde of Argents by myself. The horde would be a piece of cake, but Jackson and Gerard…not so much.
"Good morning." Coach's voice came over a radio, "In less than an hour, aircraft from here will be joining others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."
"No." I said.
"What?" Scott whispered.
"Mankind, that word should have new meaning for all of us today."
"No." I repeated. Scott gave me another look, "This is Independence Day."
Scott just shrugged.
"We are fighting for our right to live." Coach continued.
"YEAH!" All the players yelled.
"And should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice," Coach quoted pausing for dramatic effect.
"Why not the speech from Remember the Titans or Mighty Ducks even?" I asked.
"It's Coach's favorite movie." Scott replied. I nodded.
"… 'We're going to live on!' 'We're going to survive!' Today we celebrate our Independence Day!" Coach ended his speech rallying his team into frenzy.
"Well spoken, Coach." Gerard said coming up behind Finstock. Scott and I immediately freeze, "I might have chosen something with a little more historical value, but there's no denying your passion. And while I haven't been here long, there's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school. I know you'll all be brilliant tonight even with only one co-captain leading you."
Scott and I both turned to frown at Gerard. One?
"…Now, I'm your principal, but I'm also a fan. So don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team. Get out there and murder them." Gerard says intensely, his eyes land on me and Scott and narrowed into slits.
DANGER! DANGER, Jameson Winchester, DANGER! That's a threat, that's a blatant threat.
"You heard the man." Finstock yelled," Asses on the field."
"Yeah!" The team yelled. They stated moving around and grabbing there stuff to take onto the field. Scott jumps up and runs to the Coach. I watch as Scott speaks frantically to him, but Coach puts him off and retreats into his office. Scott hangs his head and comes back over to me.
"What happened? Are you not playing?"
"I got benched because I'm failing three classes."
"It's got to be Gerard, Coach doesn't give a crap about grades." I told him.
"Why doesn't he want me on the field?" he said.
"Probably for the same reason you want on it."
"So we're right whatever is going to happen is happening during the game."
"Batten down the hatches McCall, its go time."
~Carry On~
Stiles' Perspective:
"Your dad coming?" Scott asked me once we were outside.
"Yeah, he's already here." I told him, pointing to where my Dad was sitting next to his mom. I breath out audibly, I'm so on edge right now.
"You see Allison?" Scott asked.
"No, have you seen Lydia?"
"Not yet." He replied.
"You know what's going on?"
"Not yet," he huffs.
"Does James?"
"She just knows it's something bad."
"Where is she by the way? I thought she came out of the locker room with us."
Scott seemed to snap out of the daze he was in and looked around for her. Okay, that made me a little nervous. I began scanning the stands on both sides for her and couldn't spot her familiar blonde head anywhere.
"Should I be concerned?" I asked agitatedly, "I mean last time we faced off a big bad and our heavy hitter went missing, they were underground being tortured by an Argent."
"I'm sure she's fine," Scott replied, but he was far from convincing. He still searched for her despite his comment. I could tell he was trying to sniff out her scent and if she was in trouble he would go save her, while I sat here and did nothing like I did that night. I can't live like this.
"Scott, the other night seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, while I'm just lying there and I can't even move, it just…I want to help, you know, but I can't do the things you and Jameson do. I can't…"
"It's okay."
"We're losing dude."
"Stiles, shut your whore mouth." Jameson's raspy voice ordered. I whipped my head around and saw Jameson standing there with her hands on her hips glaring at me, "Don't you read comic books, the hero never wins until the Big Boss fight. We're due boys, I can feel it. And I do not want to hear another word about losing."
"What the hell are you three talking about?" Coach asked loudly, "Game hasn't even started. Stilinski put on your helmet and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."
"What?" I asked, "What happened to Greenberg?"
"What happened to Greenberg?" the Coach asked with a laugh, "He sucks. You suck slightly less."
"I'm playing?" I asked, feeling short of breath, "On the field? With the team?"
"Yes, unless you'd rather play with yourself."
"I already did that today, twice."
"Ew," Jameson said incredibly grossed out, "Is that what those weird noises were today? Bleh, I'm never stepping a foot near your room again."
"Well at least I'm not sneaking people into my room at night, God, knows what was going on in there." I shot back. Scott was covering his mouth with his glove trying and failing to hide the fact he was laughing at us.
"GET THE HELL OUT THERE!" Coach yelled at me.
"All right." I shot back grabbing my stuff and heading for the field.
"Heaven help us." I heard Jameson murmer behind me. I shot her the bird before pulling my helmet on. I ran to my positon near the goal.
"My son is on the field!" my Dad yell from the stands. I looked down at the ground and then back up. Holy shit I'm on the field. I'm on the actual field on game night, it's the state championship and I'm on the field, and people are going to die.
"Oh, dear God."
~Carry On~
Scott's Perspective:
"Heaven help us." Jameson muttered as Stiles took the field. I snorted. They were sounding more and more like brother and sister as the days went on.
"My son is on the field!" I heard the Sheriff yell from the stands. I turned to look at him. He looked so proud, but after a moment he noticed everyone was staring at him and sat down. As I was turning my head back to the field, I caught a glimpse of Jameson face as she watched the Sheriff. She was wearing a small fond smile. I guess it wasn't just Stiles who was growing on her.
"Scott. Can you hear me?" I heard Gerard's voice call to me from a distance. I pick my head up trying to figure out where he is, "Ah, you can good. Then listen closely because the game is about to get interesting. Let's put a real clock on this game, Scott. I'll give you until the last 30 seconds. When that scoreboard clock begins counting down from 30, if you haven't give me Derek, then Jackson is gonna kill someone. "
"Scott?" Jameson asked. I held my hand up.
"So tell me, Scott, who's gonna die tonight?' Gerard asked, "Should it be your mother, who so bravely came out to support you? Or the sheriff, your best friend's father? Or how about the pretty little redhead who survived who managed to survive the bite of an Alpha? Or maybe one of these innocent teenagers with their whole life ahead of them? Or should I do everyone a favor and kill that ridiculous coach? Or maybe I'll do the whole world a favor and eradicate the Winchester girl, she's nothing but a thorn in my side anyway. It's up to you Scott, but you are going to help me take Derek down. Because if you don't…I'll have Jackson rip someone's head off right in the middle of the field and drench everyone you love and care about in blood."
My fingers curled around the seat of the bench and tighten around it with every word Gerard spoke. I could feel myself growing angrier; the wolf inside of me was clawing to the surface.
"Scott? Scott?" a voice called to me. A light hand rested on my shoulder and shook me. I caught a whiff of the person's scent…leather mixed with vanilla…Jameson. I shook off my haze and looked up at her.
"It's Gerard," I told her, "If I don't turn over Derek to him by the end of the game, he's gonna start killing people."
Jameson's eyes narrowed and to slits as she glared at the old man.
"So much for their little code."
~Carry On~
Jameson's Perspective:
After Gerard's bomb of a message, the game started. I was seething, who does that bastard think he is? I was one step away from going over there and breaking his nose. But if I did that, Jackson would kill someone earlier than expected and probably me.
I watch as Stiles screws up again and gets tackled in the process. Scott jumps up like he was going on to the field, but the Coach pushed back down next to me.
"Sit down, McCall."
"But, Coach, we're dying out there."
"I'm aware of that." Coach told him, "Now sit. And you boy name, hit the stands."
He walked off and I saluted his retreating form. However, despite the show of respect I stayed where I was, and kept an eye on Jackson. I didn't even look up when someone sat next to me on the bench.
"Well this all looks horrible." A familiar voice spoke. I turned my head to see Isaac suited up. I grinned.
"You came to help." Scott said, he sounded like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Well I was going to leave but then I looked a mirror and remember how good I looked in a uniform." Isaac replied, winking at me. I rolled my eyes at him. Scott looked relieved and then looked down the line to look at Gerard.
"You two got a plan yet," Isaac asked as he started prepping his gear.
"No, right now it's pretty much just keep Jackson from killing anyone." Scott answered. I pursed my lips and nodded. That was the broad plan anyway.
"Well, that might be easier if you're actually in the game." Isaac plotted, "We have to make it so coach has no choice but to play you."
"How do we do that?" Scott asks, "He's got a bench full of guys he can use before he ever puts me on the field. "
The boys share a look, one that I totally don't get.
"Can you do it without putting anyone in the hospital?" Scott asked and I started catching on. Isaac's gonna go open a door.
Isaac exhales like Scott was taking all the fun out of his plan.
"I can try." He says putting his helmet on.
"Well what am I supposed to, while you two play knock out?" I asked.
"You?" Isaac asked amused, "You're supposed to sit here and look pretty."
With that he turned and ran on the field.
"Is it too late to send him away with Erica and Boyd?" I asked Scott. Scott grinned. Isaac turned his head and gave me a cocky smile.
"I hate you, Lahey." I whispered to him. I could see his shoulders shaking with laughter. He took the field, on the way to his spot he stood and looked at one of his teammates for a moment before moving on. The whistle blew and one of the Beacon Hills players scooped up the ball and ran with it only to be met with Isaac's stick. He flips over it head first.
"Damn, that one is going to hurt." I said.
"Lahey!" The Coach yelled from the side of the field. He sends another player in and Isaac takes him out too. He keeps going knocking player after player out.
"Lahey! Seriously, what the hell is your problem?" Finstock screeched. Isaac just shrugged. The whistle blows again, and Isaac goes to tackle another player when he's side swiped by Jackson. He falls to the ground and when the other player got up I noticed Isaac wasn't.
"Isaac!" I called out before rushing on the field, Scott running right beside me. I dropped next to Isaac's head and pulled off his helmet.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"It's not broken. But I can't move it." He told us, as a stretcher came alongside him, "I think Jackson nicked me 'cause I can feel it spreading."
Scott and I both looked over at Gerard knowing he had a hand in this.
"One, two, three," the medics said before lifting Isaac on the stretcher. The Coach came up behind us and pulled Scott into a standing position.
"Aw, crap McCall either you're in or we forfeit." He said shoving Scott's helmet and his stick in his hands, "And Winchester get off my damn field."
I looked to Scott who nodded.
"Go with Isaac, I'll be okay."
"Good luck." I said before following after my friend. The paramedics took Isaac into the locker room and barely made a fuss when I told them I was tagging along. They place the stretcher on the bench.
"We need to grab a few things from the truck, do you mind watching him for a moment?" one of paramedics asked.
"Sure," I said turning my back on them to check on Isaac.
"How you feeling, Champ?"
"Not feeling much of anything."
"Sucks don't it?" I said, "Try triggering your healing factor, it should get the toxic out of your system quicker."
He nodded and unleashed his claws.
"I can't really move my hand." He told me.
"You boys…can't do anything for yourself." I said as I took his hand and pushed his claws into his thigh. He hissed in pain, but I continued to press his claws into him.
I heard the doors swing announcing the returns of the medic. And I released his hand and let fall to his side.
"This should fix you right up kid," one of the medics said.
"Great." Isaac said sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes. When I focused my eyes again, Isaac's eyes were huge. The screamed one word-panic.
"Jameson!" He warns, I turn my head and feel a something slam against the back of my head before everything goes dark.
~Carry On~
I woke up groggily, the pain in the back of my head hurts like a mother trucker. I was definitely going to shoot the guy who hit me in the dick. I didn't get to do it with Matt, so why not this guy. Plus I'm seriously pissed off right now.
"It was a goof effort, Isaac." I heard Gerard say. I lifted my head to see Gerard flanked by the two medics from earlier, "It was."
One of the hunters handed Gerard a sword.
"This would be so much more poetic if it were halftime." Gerard sneered. I clenched my jaw and pushed myself off the ground. He started walking forward dragging his sword along the ground tauntingly. I got up on my knees and stood the rest of the way up. I pulled the gun out of my waistband. And just when Gerard was about to swing his sword at Isaac, Isaac caught sight of me and grinned. Gerard faltered and looked in the mirror behind Isaac and spotted me.
"Hey assholes, haven't you ever heard it's not polite to hit a girl." I said before shooting one of the hunters in the knee cap. He dropped like a fly on the ground clutching his knee. The other came at me and I level my gun at his shoulder. I was about to fire when I felt someone rush past me…Scott. He picked the guy up and tossed him across the room. When the guy didn't get up he looked between me and Isaac.
"Where is he?" Scott asked. What? I looked around and saw that Gerard was gone.
"Son of a Bitch!"
~Carry On~
Scott's Perspective:
I left Jameson and Isaac to clean up the mess in the locker room. Time was ticking and I had to get back on the field before Jackson killed someone. When I made back out to the field I saw the clock was at 30 seconds exactly. I watch as time runs out, and wait with baited breath as the clock strikes zero. I waiting for screaming but instead of sounds of terror I hear cheering.
"Nothing happened. Nothing." I said to myself both surprise and relieved. I soon as I said it, the lights went dark and people started screaming. People started rushing past me, screaming and calling out for family members and friends.
"Scott!" I heard my Mom call over the noise of the crowd, "Scott, where are you?"
I look in the direction of where her voice is coming from.
"Scott!" Mom calls again running in my direction. I catch her and scan over her to see if she is hurt.
"Mom. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. But somebody is hurt. Somebody is down on the field."
"What?" I asked. Then the lights come back on and Coach rushes past me.
"Get out of the way. Move. Back off!" He screams as he runs towards the person on the ground, "Move, move."
Mom and I head over to the body to see what is going on.
"Jackson! Jackson, what's happening?" Lydia cried frantically as she reaches the crowd surrounding the body. Jackson? What?
"Can we get a medic over here?" Coach yells. Mom rushed over to help, "We're gonna need a medic!"
Mom kneels down and lays her head on Jackson's chest.
"He's not breathing." Mom said, "No pulse."
"Nothing?' I asked,
"Nothing." Mom answers. She goes to remove his uniform and reveals a bloodied undershirt, with five distinct claw marks.
"Holy shit!" I hear Jameson's voice exclaim. I turn to see her Isaac standing behind me with the same shocked expression on their faces.
"Oh, my God. There's blood." Lydia hiccups, "There's blood."
I looked closely at Jackson's claw marks and noticed something about their angle. I looked at his hand and saw blood on Jackson's finger tips. I hit Isaac's chest trying to get his attention.
"Look." I said.
"He did it to himself?" Isaac asks.
"What the hell is the old man playing at?" Jameson asked.
"Get down here." I heard my mom say and looked back to her to see her doing compressions and looking at Lydia, "Get down here and hold his head. Tilt it up."
Whimpering Lydia did what my mom told her. Mom continued to try to revive him, but I could tell it wasn't working.
"Where's Stiles?" the Sheriff asked frantically, my head snapped up, "Where's Stiles? Where the hell is my son?"
~Carry On~
Dun..dun..dun….I hope you all liked this chapter. Please review! I would love to hear your thoughts