Wake me up

Say enough is enough

I'm dying to live

Something's gotta give

Pull me out

Of this sinking town

I'm dying to live

Something's gotta give

Something's Gotta Give – All Time Low


Walking into school a day or two later, I definitely wasn't expecting to see one of the buses with it's back door ripped open, blood covering the tacky yellow paint. I couldn't get too close without arousing suspicion, but I knew I'd have to look into it. I figured Stiles would know something about it, what with having a sheriff as a father.

So I made my way to class like usual, stepping through the door to chemistry, taught by class-a douche bag – Mr Harris. I strode past him, glaring at the back of his head as I moved down through the tables, into my seat at the back of the class. I shared this period with Scott and Stiles, and though I could usually tune them out, this particular time I couldn't help but listen in on their hushed conversation.

"Maybe it was my blood on the door," Scott muttered to his best friend anxiously, twisting a pen in his hands.

"Could have been animal blood," Stiles suggested. "You know? Maybe you caught a rabbit or something."

"And did what?" he asked worriedly and I tucked a piece of my raven hair behind my ear, turning so I could hear slightly better.

"Ate it."

"Raw?" the young wolf gasped, horrified at the thought.

"No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven." A laugh bubbled up from my chest, spilling out of my lips before I could do anything to stop it. The sound was louder than I anticipated, making the whole class, teacher included, turn to look at me. I clicked my tongue awkwardly, then cleared my throat and turned to stare at the board resolutely, acting like nothing had happened. I caught a glimpse of Stiles grinning in my peripheral vision and pressed my lips together firmly.

"Mr Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper then you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr McCall would benefit from a little distance."

"No," Stiles argued, only to be shut down by our dragon of a teacher immediately.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," he drawled, pointing at them to move to opposite sides of the room. They sighed, picking up their things and walking over to their new desks. Scott wandered up to the front of the room, while Stiles moved back towards me. I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping he wouldn't chose the spare seat beside me.

Unfortunately, I wasn't a very lucky vampire.

"Hey partner!" Stiles chirped as he slid into the seat, dropping his things on the table in front of him. I blinked up at him passively, deciding it best not to respond. I turned back to the page in front of me, picking my pen back up and going back to my idle drawing. "Wow," he breathed, scooting his chair closer to mine and bending his neck to look at my work. "That's amazing. Have you had art lessons?"

Yeah, a hundred and fifty years ago.

I kept my mouth shut, studiously ignoring him as I continued to sketch the mane of a mighty lion. "Do you think you could draw me?" he asked loudly, leaning so far over in his seat that he nearly toppled over, and would have fallen flat on his face if I hadn't shot out an arm to steady him.

"Mr Stilinski," mr Harris sighed, turning back around the face the class and crossing his arms. "Do I need to move you again?"

"No sir," he responded, ducking his head and focusing his attention on the textbook in front of him.

A minute of tense silence past, them some girl in the front row shouted, "Hey! I think they found something!"

Everyone leapt from their seats and ran over to the windows, peering out of the glass curiously. I rolled my eyes, propping my feet up on Stiles' vacated chair and continuing my sketching. "That's not a rabbit," Scott muttered worriedly. I wasn't concerned, chances were it was the alpha that made such a mess, not Scott. Even if the boy was a werewolf, he was new at it and barely knew his head from his ass. I knew I could take him in a fight, no question, so I didn't let it bother me. If I needed to know, I'd find out from one of the deputies later on. For now I just needed to focus on getting the tail of my lion just right.

Whatever they saw scared them, because everyone in the group jumped back, letting pathetic little screams out of their pathetic little mouths. I didn't so much as flinch, rolling my eyes and ignoring everything they were muttering about, focusing my hearing on Scott and Stiles, who'd broken away from the group and were mumbling between themselves in a corner. "So this is good. He's not dead! Dead guys can't do that."

"Stiles," Scott breathed, staring out the window with a stricken look on his face. "I did that."

Interesting. The boy seemed to be under the impression he was the one to do it. And by the look Stiles shot me, I knew they were going to come to me for answers.

They took longer than I expected to corner me, taking seats at the empty lunch table I'd scored myself, glaring away anyone who tried to take the seat opposite me. Scott slid into the spot in front of me and Stiles appeared beside me, placing his tray on the table with a rattling thud.

"What?" I asked, though I already knew what they were going to say.

"Scott seems to be under the impression he was the one to attack that guy on the bus last night, because he had a dream that something like it happened to him. Can you tell him he's wrong please?" Stiles asked in one breath, turning in his seat to face me fully.

I tapped my hands on the empty metal table in front of me, not having bothered to keep up the charade of eating food. "How the hell should I know?" I asked rudely, frowning at the pair of boys.

"Um, because you're also a werewolf?!" Stiles practically yelled, making the people a table over look at us weirdly.

I cringed, crossing my arms and glancing over at the short-haired boy with a scowl. "Say it louder, why don't you? I don't think they heard you in Connecticut."

He pressed his lips together like he was holding back a retort and I bit my lip to cover a smirk. "Look, is there anything I can do? Something to help me remember what happened?"

I slid my green eyes past Stiles, fixing my unnerving stare on the young wolf. I might have been old and admittedly, a little wise, but that didn't mean I knew all the tricks and tips of being a werewolf. "You want my advice?" I asked, cocking my head.

"Yes!"

"Talk to Derek Hale."

Neither of them liked my answer, both of them making annoyed groans. It was silent for a moment as Stiles cracked open his yogurt and Scott bit into an apple. "You aren't hungry?" Stiles asked after he'd swallowed a mouthful, gesturing to the empty table in front of me.

"Why?" I asked, unable to stop a smirk as it spread across my lips this time. "Are you offering?"

His face twisted into a confused frown but before he could comment a somewhat familiar red-headed girl slammed her tray on the table, plopping into a seat beside Scott. People began to flood the table, and I scowled, scooping up my bag and sliding from my seat and letting a good looking younger boy take it, moving over to the doors and stepping out into the sun before the boy had even noticed I'd gone.


I wasn't expecting anyone to knock at my door at nine at night. Nobody even knew I lived here, except Stiles. As I opened the door I remembered the only other person I'd given my address to.

"Hello Derek," I sighed, leaning in the doorway and watching as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"We've got to go question the driver who was attacked," he dead-panned, expression not even twitching. He turned away, hopping down my porch steps and making his way back to his car which was parked in front of my house. After a beat he realised I wasn't following him, turning around to stare at me exasperatedly. "What are you doing?" he asked in annoyance, staring at me with a scowl through the darkness.

"Waiting for you to grow some manners," I responded tightly, crossing my arms and returning his stare with a stubborn one of mine.

He blinked at me, eyes narrowing. "You want me to say please?"

"Yes."

He huffed, tipping back his head and closing his eyes as though he were praying for patience. "Please come with me to question the driver," he muttered, so quietly I wouldn't have heard it if I wasn't a vampire.

I grinned with false brightness, reaching my hand inside my door to pull my old Harvard hoodie from where it hung on the back of the door handle. I wasn't cold, but I knew it was meant to be a cold night, and walking around without a jacket on would be stupid. I shrugged it on over my t-shirt and closed the door, shoving my hands in the pocket at the front and meeting Derek at his car.

We drove towards the hospital, Derek telling me that he expected me to compel the man to tell us everything he'd seen the night he was attacked. On our way the little fuel light on his dashboard started to blink. He sighed heavily but pulled into the next gas station we came across. He slid out of the car, moving to the pump and sliding the trigger into the correct place.

I was just messing with his radio, looking for something good and trying not to break it accidentally when a car pulled in opposite me. I frowned at the car, the expression deepening when I heard the sound of tyres on gravel from behind me too. We were surrounded. I assumed they were probably part of a gang that Derek owed money to or something, but my still heart clenched as the hunter – Allison's father – from the other night slid out of the car. Derek looked between the older male hunter and the ones getting out of the other car, slowly and deliberately putting away the gas trigger.

I cracked open the passenger side door, setting my converse-clad feet on the hard ground and slipping out, shutting it quietly behind me and glancing between the hunters, fists clenched in anticipation of a fight.

"Nice ride," Argent said with a smug smirk, stepping closer to Derek's sleek black car. "Black cars though, very hard to keep clean." He slowly ran his hand up the side of the car as he strolled closer to the irritated wolf. "I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance. You have something this nice, you wanna take care of it, right? Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love." I watched with crossed arms as he picked up the window washer from the bucket, running the wet side over the glass of the windshield. "That's something I learned from my family, and you don't have much of that these days. Do you?"

I heard Derek growl under his breath, his body tensing as he prepared for a fight. "Derek," I said tightly, a warning. All of their eyes snapped to me, and I winced internally. Externally I was expressionless, stony faced with my chin held high.

"Juliet Cooper, right?" Argent said, pausing the cleaning job he was undertaking to look at me fully. "Haven't heard much about you. But I'm sure you too can understand what I'm saying."

My gums tingled, itching to flash my fangs at him. I swallowed the urge. As far as I knew they were operating under the assumption that I was a werewolf, which for me, was definitely a good thing. "There you go then," he smiled when I nodded, dropping the window washer into the bucket and dusting off his hands. "You can actually look through your windshield now. Doesn't that make everything so much clearer?"

He turned to leave and I felt anger swell up within. Who gave him the right?

"Forgot to check the oil," Derek said.

I smirked wickedly, "And the tyres."

He paused, turning back around with a smirk. "Check the man's oil and tyres."

A man from behind us nodded, moving forward and without warning slamming the but of his gun into the window, smashing it to pieces. I didn't flinch, I never flinched, I just stared back at him, wishing I had the guts to snap his worthless little neck. "Looks good to me."

"Drive safely."

They all slid back into their cars and left us there. Derek growled, loudly this time, slamming his hand against the back of his car so hard I was surprised it didn't dent it. "Where the fuck do they get off?" he hissed angrily. I wasn't very good at handling people's emotions, so I just shrugged and cracked open the passenger side door, leaning over to brush off the glass of the seat.

"Go pay for your gas," I told him, barely wincing as the glass cut into the palm of my hand.

He muttered more profanities under his breath, turning on his heel and marching into the gas station. I finally got the majority of the glass off the seat, turning my hands palm-up so I could stare at my bloody hands. Slowly but surely the cuts healed themselves, though left blood smeared on my skin. I wiped it off on my dark jeans, jumping back into the seat and kicking my feet up onto the dash, waiting for Derek to come back out.

"No," he dead-panned when he slid back into the car. "Feet off dash."

"Killjoy," I muttered sardonically, sliding my feet down and crossing my legs. The rest of the ride to the hospital was done in silence, Derek trying to control his rage and me trying to ignore Derek's rage.

By the time we got to the hospital I was already wishing I'd stayed home, but I knew it was important we did this. I needed to find out who the alpha was and kill him if I ever wanted some peace and quiet in this God forsaken town. We strolled passed the desk like we owned the place, not making eye contact with anyone as we slipped into the man's room.

"Quickly," Derek urged, keeping watch by the door.

I crept towards where the bloodied man lay in the bed, eyes clenched shut tightly. I stared at him, letting my voice fall flat as my power of persuasion did it's magic. "Open your eyes." His eyes snapped open and he stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. "What do you remember?" I asked, and instead of answering his eyes slid past me to where Derek stood at the door.

"Hale," he wheezed, staring at Derek with a horrorstruck gaze.

"How do you know me?" the beta asked, surging forward to stare at the injured man properly.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered, sounding like it pained him to talk. "I'm sorry."

I frowned, leaning back over his face to make our eyes meet. Some people could resist if we, say, did it over the phone. Once they looked in our eyes, however, there was no chance. "What do you remember?" I asked slowly, watching his pupils dilate rapidly.

"Red eyes," he breathed. "Bright red eyes. And blood. So much blood."

"What else?" I continued, drawing him even further into my hold.

"He-he," the man stuttered, then a wheezing, choking noise came from his throat, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks and he began seizing.

"We need to get out of here," I hissed, pinning around and grabbing Derek by the collar of his jacket. "Now."

We were gone before anyone could see us, escaping into the night, no remorse on our hearts, only anger at the alpha that caused all of this.


"They don't know you're a vampire," he said, breaking the tense silence that had filled his car. "They think you're a werewolf."

"I know," I responded curtly.

"It gives us an advantage if they don't know," he told me, and I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"I guess," I shrugged, blinking up at the cloud-covered moon. "At least if they come after me with wolfsbane and mistletoe, I'll be okay."

"And that's the most important thing," he spat, but I chose to ignore him. "We have to find this thing," Derek said after a long moment as we pulled up outside my house, hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel as he stared out into the darkness ahead of him.

"Since when is it we?" I countered with a disgusted cringe, not liking the idea of teaming up with the werewolf any more than I already was.

"Since it killed that man," he insisted passionately, rearing around to stare at me. "Since we know it'll kill again."

"I'm a vampire," I hissed through clenched teeth. "What do I care if people die?"

"If that were true you wouldn't be helping me in the first place," he responded bluntly.

I pursed my lips, deciding not to snap back at him and instead turning and opening the car door, swinging around until my feet hit the road. "Come get me if you find anything," I muttered over my shoulder, sliding out of his car and slamming the door shut behind me. I stormed my way up the path to my porch, making a stray cat on my lawn hiss at me and run away. Once I was safely inside I toed off my shoes and slipped off my hoodie, making my way up the stairs and turning on music loud enough to drown out my own thoughts.