Naive minds for naive lives,

We don't have nine lives,

Open your eyes

The only chance you get,

Is here tonight

Listening – Tonight Alive


I walked into the school late that morning, having not woken up on time. I didn't mind, simply moving through the streets on my way toward the school. By the time I reached the looming building I had missed most of chemistry, but I didn't really care. I loathed Mr Harris more than I loathed any of the other pathetic teachers at that ridiculous school. I figured I might as well skip the whole class, sneak in during the gap between classes and make my way to french. So I leant against the wall near the entrance, pulling out a cigarette from my bag and lighting it, taking a long puff.

I was halfway through my stick when secretive giggles came from the doorway behind me, and I watched as Scott and Allison hurried out of the school, hand-in-hand. "Where are you two off to?" I asked loudly, tilting my head against the bricks and smiling in amusement as they jumped, spinning around the face me with sheepish expressions.

"Juliet," Scott greeted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "What're you doing out here?"

"Smoko," I responded flippantly, nonchalantly flicking the ash off the end of my cigarette.

They glanced at each other, deflating as they realised they'd been caught. "We were just heading back inside," Allison sighed disappointedly, shooting me a smile that fell flat. They both turned to head back into the building, heads hung in defeat.

"Or you could just, you know, sneak off to your car and go wherever it is you were planning to go," I suggested with a smirk, taking a drag of smoke and blowing it from my lips in rings that got bigger the further they floated.

"You won't tell?" she asked hopefully, entire face lighting up. She reminded me of somebody, but I couldn't put my finger on who.

"I won't tell," I confirmed with another smirk, dropping what was left of my cigarette to the cement and stepping on it with my combat boot just as the bell rang from inside, signalling the change of period. They smiled gratefully but I waved them off, winking playfully before I disappeared into the school. I wandered through the hallways until I got to my locker, and by the time I got there the bell had rung again and the halls were quickly emptying.

I keyed in the combination – my late sister's birthday – and cracked it open, pulling my french textbook out and slipping it into my bag. Footsteps sounded behind me, and I detected a familiar, wet-dog scent that I now associated with irritation.

"Hello Derek," I drawled, letting my locker slam shut and turning around to face him, shoving my hands into the pockets of my black pea coat, tilting my head and peering at him closely. "Well?" I prompted impatiently when he didn't say anything, raising my eyebrows expectantly. "What do you want?"

"I want you to compel Jackson Whittemore to tell me what he saw during the attack at the video store last night," he told me flatly.

"I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, taking my hands from my pockets to cross my arms, face hardening into a glare. "Last I checked I wasn't your trained monkey."

He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms to mirror my stance, scowling at me darkly, though it didn't so much as make me shiver. To a vampire as old as me, he just wasn't scary. At all. "Can you please," he spat the word like it was a curse, "just compel him?"

I pursed my lips like I was considering his request, though I'd already made up my mind. "No," I finally told him bluntly, hitching my bag up higher on my shoulder and turning to head down the hall.

"What do you mean, no?" he asked with a confused frown.

"I mean, no," I dead-panned back over my shoulder as I kept walking. His footsteps picked up as he followed me down the hall. I rolled my eyes, wishing for patience as I slowed to a stop outside the library. "What?"

"I thought you were going to help me find the alpha."

"I am," I replied simply, turning to face him, letting him see my irritated scowl. "But right now I have French class."

He scoffed, "You hardly seem like the type to care about class. What is this, your fiftieth time going to high school?"

"Twenty-second," I responded sourly, narrowing my eyes at the handsome wolf. And that wasn't even counting my years at college. I'd had enough of talking to him. "Goodbye Derek."

Thankfully he didn't argue this time, just growling in annoyance and turning on his heel, heading for the locker rooms. I rolled my eyes as I walked into french class, that guy was such a tool.

LINEBREAK

I was walking to History when Stiles jumped out in front of me, grasping my shoulders with his large hands and dragging me to the side. I let him, not wanting to draw attention to myself by having him fall on his ass. I glared at him as he spoke. "Have you seen Scott? I've been looking for him all day and I can't find him anywhere. He also isn't answering my texts..." He finally seemed to notice my dangerous look and glanced down at his hands, awkwardly lifting them from my body and clenched them into fists as they dropped to his sides. "So, have you seen him?"

"Yes," I responded, pulling out a cigarette from my bag and lighting it up. I expected him to comment on it, but he just rolled his eyes and surged forwards, continuing to question me.

"Well, where the hell is he?"

"He's-"

"Hey!" a voice snapped, and of course it belonged to Mr Harris. I stared at him with a bored expression as he stalked towards me, rage painted on his face. "You can't smoke that in here!" He snatched the stick from my fingers, holding it out of my reach as though I were a child he was confiscating a toy off. "Detention after school, my classroom."

My lips twitched up humorously and he made the mistake of meeting my eyes. His expression fell flat, his pupils dilating and his blinking stopping. "I don't have to go to detention," I told him, my voice as sweet and smooth as honey.

"You don't have to go to detention," he repeated, his voice dull and droning.

"Now," I said, tilting my head and drawing him deeper into my trap. "Give it back." He handed the cigarette over without a word, and I took it from him, taking a deep drag without breaking eye contact. Finally I blinked, releasing him from my hold. He shook his head, looking around confusedly. I leaned back against the lockers, flicking the ash from the tip. "Go away," I told him sternly, and with a befuddled frown he spun on his heel and headed down the hallway.

"That...was...amazing," Stiles gasped, looking between me and the teacher's retreating back. "I didn't know you could do that. Though I suppose it makes sense, I have read lore that says..." he trailed off, eyes glassy as he stared off into the distance, not really seeing anything.

"Yes?" I prompted, taking in another lungful of chemicals.

He blinked back to reality, heart pumping faster in his chest. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter." I shrugged in response, adjusting the strap on my bag. "Can you do that to change my chemistry grade?"

"Yes."

"Will you?"

"No."

He deflated, scrunching his nose up at me childishly. I chortled, rolling my eyes and starting down the hall. He followed me, and surprisingly I didn't find myself irritated by his accompanying footsteps and minty/chocolatey scent. "Did you hear about the attack last night? The one on Lydia and Jackson?" I hummed affirmatively, holding my breath to keep the smoke in for an extra moment before releasing it through pinched lips. "Think it was the alpha?"

"I know it was," I replied as the bell rang overhead and students scurried into classrooms. Neither of us made any hurry to get to our own classes, merely strolling down the hall leisurely.

"How?"

I looked at him like he was stupid. "Well I know it wasn't me, or Scott, or Derek," I said slowly like I was talking to a pre-schooler. "So that leaves..."

"The alpha," he finished, nodding his head. "Have you seen Lydia today?" he asked, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the girl. "Jackson's here but she isn't."

"I barely know what the girl looks like," I retorted with a scoff. "So I definitely wouldn't have noticed seeing her in class."

"Well I was thinking of going to her house, seeing if she's okay."

"Be sure to send her my well-wishes," I said sarcastically, pasting a large – and completely fake – toothy grin on my face. Stiles smirked down at me with amusement, though I don't know what I said that was funny. It was meant to sound scathing. I'd have to work on sounding meaner. "This is my stop," I told him offhandedly as we passed the world history classroom."Try giving Scott a call again. I'm sure if you pester him enough he'll answer."

"Yeah, I will," he nodded. I clicked my tongue, nodding at him once slightly awkwardly before turning around and stepping into my class, not bothering with a farewell. As I moved over to a vacant seat, I listened to the sound of him pause for a moment, before spinning around and heading back down the hall the way we'd come.

The rest of the day was pretty quiet. I barely paid attention in class, and actually decided to work on one of my assignments during lunch out of sheer boredom.

I thought I'd fulfilled my Stiles quota for the day, so when he rang me shortly after school had ended I was surprised. "Yes?" I answered the call, halfway through the forest on my long walk home.

"I need your help," he said seriously, sounding anxious.

"I'm not compelling Mr Harris so he has good things to say at the parent-teacher conference tonight," I told him firmly, stepping up over a fallen tree. "You got your ass in this mess, now buck up and face the music."

"What-no," he responded, sounding slightly offended. "Listen, I found something on Lydia's phone."

I paused mid-step, frowning suspiciously. "If you're about to say something dirty I swear-"

"She has footage of the alpha."

I stopped dead, blinking at the trunk of the tree in front of me. "She what?"

"Listen, you weren't my first call, but Scott isn't answering his phone. So could you please just come over and help me decide what to do?"

I hesitated. I didn't exactly feel like wandering into this kid's house, especially when I knew I'd be completely immersed in his delicious scent. But I knew this was important, and it wasn't like I had any plans other than to watch crappy old science-fiction movies and drink some heated up blood. I sighed, running a hand through my midnight locks. "Where do you live?" I asked, listening as he rattled off his address. "I'll be there in five."

I hung up before he could comment at all, turning no my heel and taking off back the way I'd come. I had no idea where his street was, and my phone was so old it didn't have those fancy GPS systems that everyone had these days, so I headed into a convenience store to ask for directions. I got to Stile's house in just under five minutes, as promised, and I knocked on the front door loudly, not sure what his little human ears could and couldn't hear. I heard clumsy, uneven steps practically run down the stairs inside and race towards the door. He pulled it open, relief spread across his face at the sight of me. Something in my stomach clenched, it'd been a long time since anyone had been relieved to see me. My presence usually evoked the opposite reaction.

"Hey," he greeted me, pulling open the door wider and stepping back, waiting for me to pass through. I paused, pressing my lips together awkwardly. I couldn't get in without an invitation, but if I told him that I'd have to admit to being a vampire, which I wasn't sure I was ready to do.

His brow furrowed with confusion as he watched me, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Uh, can I..."

"Of course." He nodded, stepping back even further, then deliberately saying, "Come in, Juliet."

I pressed my foot against the barrier, trying not to sag with relief when it pushed passed the threshold with zero resistance. I stepped through the doorway, letting him close the door behind me before letting him lead me up to his room. On the way up I peeked at the photo's on the walls, my lips twitching as I caught sight of what could only be a baby-Stiles. One in particular made me smile, Stiles sitting in one of those car rides at the mall, a large grin on his face showing his two front teeth missing.

I stepped into his room, pretending not to notice as he inconspicuously kicked a pile of dirty laundry under his bed. I looked around the room, taking in the organised chaos of his desk and the band posters strung around the room. I liked his taste in music, though I wasn't familiar with most of them. The only music I really enjoyed listening to was from the fifties. He gestured for me to take a seat on the end of his bed and I did so hesitantly, trying to breathe through my mouth without being weird about it so I wouldn't get overwhelmed by his scent. I dropped my bag at my feet, taking the cell phone he offered me then stared at it confusedly. What was I supposed to do with it?

He laughed, though the sound was tense and nervous, and took it back, clicking some buttons with practised ease and then handing it back. I watched the little screen as the video played; the lights flickered and then there was the shattering of glass before a large black shape dove towards the camera, the only discernible features it's glistening white fangs and it's glowing red eyes.

"Hm," I hummed, handing back the phone and folding my hands together, staring down at them thoughtfully.

"Well?" he asked, sounding desperate for my input. "What do we do?"

"Delete it," I said immediately, staring up at him like he was an idiot. "Obviously."

"Are-are you sure?"

I paused, was I sure? I scowled, I didn't like having to reevaluate my answer. "Well, yeah..." I pressed my lips together, then shuffled back on the bed until my back hit the headboard, tapping my head against the wood. "I think so. I mean, what else are we going to do with it?"

"Yeah," he nodded, brows pulled together as he thought.

"And the longer you leave deleting it, the more chance there is for somebody to find it. Then we're all in trouble," I told him seriously, trying not to think about the serious threat the hunters posed to me. One hunter? Two? Not a problem. But if the other week at the gas station was anything to go by, the Argent's had brought some friends into town with them. Not to mention papa-Argent's psychopathic sister was in town. Derek hadn't told me much about her, just that she was ruthless and dangerous. I'd laughed when he'd told me, saying it wouldn't be a problem. Then again, the only real thing keeping me safe was that everyone in town was operating under the assumption I was a werewolf, if that changed who knew which direction things could go.

"I'm calling Scott again," he announced after a long silence, tapping away at his phone then holding it up to his ear. "Hey, it's me again. Look, I found something and I don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on, right now, that'd be great. Or else? I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm going to kill you, but I'm just gonna do it. Okay? Ugh. Goodbye," he grunted into the phone.

I couldn't help the genuine laugh that bubbled up and spilled passed my lips as I listened to his message. Hearing a human so young and harmless threatening somebody's life like that, well to a monster like me it seemed downright hilarious. I tipped my head back, letting myself enjoy the humorous moment for a beat. When I focused my attention back on Stiles, he was staring at me with an odd expression on his face. "What?" I asked self-consciously, blinking at him vulnerably.

"I've just never seen you laugh like that before," he said quietly. "I didn't even know you could laugh like that."

I wanted to be irritated by his words, but something in my chest warmed with the way he was staring at me; like I wasn't a blood-sucking demon.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall as Stiles continued to watch me. I briefly considered compelling him to tell me what he was thinking, but ultimately decided against it when an older man – one from the photos – peeked his head around the corner and knocked on the door. Stiles gasped, jumping in shock and holding a hand to his heart. I stared up at the man passively, he was the sheriff, and obviously his father. "Hello," he said somewhat awkwardly, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smiling welcomingly. "I wasn't expecting Stiles to have company."

"Dad, this is Juliet," the boy in question introduced us, collapsing in his desk chair and swinging on it to occupy himself. "She's a...friend from school."

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," I greeted him, bowing my head in respect and arranging my lips into an award-winning smile – the one that dazzled people into giving me what I wanted.

"Please," he said with an easy grin. "When I'm not on duty it's just John."

"John," I repeated, crossing my legs indian-style and sitting up straighter on Stiles' bed.

"Are you new to town?" he asked politely, leaning against the doorframe. "I haven't seen you around before. Who're your parents?"

I paused, pursing my lips, my eyes darting to Stiles as I remembered what he'd assumed the other week in the car. "Oh, I'm emancipated. I live on my own in the old Miller house."

"Wow, emancipated," he said, crossing his arms and frowning as he watched me. "Why is that?"

"Gee dad, don't you think that's a little personal?" Stiles spoke up, and I felt grateful towards him for a moment before I buried it, not in the mood for those kinds of feelings.

"You're right," the older man said, smiling and ducking his head sheepishly before turning his attention to his son. "And you, please tell me I'm going to hear good news at this parent-teacher thing tonight."

"Depends on how you define good news."

"I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioural issues."

"You might wanna rethink that definition," Stiles replied, and I bit my lip to smother another laugh.

"Enough said," John sighed, tapping his legs with a sense of finality. "It was nice to meet you Juliet," he said to me as he turned to me. "Stay out of trouble."

"Will do John!"

We waited until John's footsteps had faded and the front door had clicked shut before either of us spoke. "I wish Scott would just answer his damn phone," he sighed, running a hand over his short hair. I leaned back, staring up at the roof and ignoring the flare of white hot heat in my throat as I breathed in his heavenly scent. I clenched my hands into fists, my sharp nails biting into the skin on my palms as I fought the urge to attack him, or at least do something I'd regret.

"We need to make a decision," I said, mostly just to distract myself. I got to my feet, distancing myself from his bed; the thing his scent clung to most out of the room. "We can't keep wasting time."

"You're right," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut tight. After a long, tense moment his arm shot out and he snatched the phone off the desk. I walked over so I stood behind him, watching over his shoulder as he clicked several buttons, until finally the screen flashed with a notification.

Items deleted.

I nodded, "You made the right call." Stiles sighed, clearly unsure. He seemed to make an internal decision to put it out of his mind, swinging around the face me, his expression curious. "What?" I asked hesitantly, knowing I was about to be bombarded with questions.

"I've been looking into something recently, and I could use your input," he said, pushing himself to his feet and moving over to his bottom desk drawer, which he tugged open, pulling out the papers on top until he dug out a specific folder. He presented it to me, watching my reaction closely. I took it, walking backwards until my legs hit his bed, and I let myself fall back onto it, glancing up at him with raised brows. "You've heard about the Hale fire, right?"

"Everyone in the supernatural community has," I responded immediately, focusing on the feeling of the paper under my skin instead of the mouthwatering aroma coming from where he stood, only feet away from me. He turned and took a seat on the edge of the bed beside me, leaning over me to read the papers as I pulled them out.

"Really?" he asked as I tugged out the top paper, my keen eyes reading it with a simple glance before I moved on to the next one.

"Yeah," I nodded. "The Hale family was a huge deal back when they were still around. They were one of the most powerful packs in North America." I looked away from the papers and up at him, blinking as I realised he was was close I could smell his minty breath. He flinched back when he realised it to. "Why are you so interested?"

"Well, I think the hunters were the ones who burnt the house down," he said with a shrug. "But I can't know for sure. I figured you might see something I didn't."

I didn't reply, continuing to read the report he'd no doubt stolen from his father. He leaned forwards again, his chest brushing my arm. I felt the heat of his body and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric and tensed, hunger surging through me. "I have to leave," I announced suddenly, standing to my feet and dropping the file where I'd been sitting.

"What? Did you find something?" he asked eagerly.

"No, I just have a prior engagement."

"A prior engagement?" he asked with an exasperated frown. "Nobody speaks like that anymore."

I picked up my bag, slung it over my body and headed for the door. "I just really need to leave, Stiles," I said seriously, my voice leaving no room for argument. He opened his mouth, no doubt to try and argue, but I cut him off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded his head reluctantly, then blinked. By the time he'd opened his eyes, I was gone.