I've been the strong one for so long

But, I was wrong

Doesn't make you weak cause you needed someone

I'm not holding back and I know what I want

Beautiful With You – Halestorm


"Are you going to the dance?"

I looked up from my book, pulling the cigarette from between my lips and looking up at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "No," I said, flicking the ash from the tip before looking back down at the words on the page.

"Why not?" he asked me, sliding down the brick wall I was leaning against until he was sitting beside me, his bag next to him.

"Because I don't care?"

"Is that your answer for everything? That's not a very good attitude to have towards life."

"I don't care."

He groaned in annoyance, and I could feel him roll his eyes. "What if I told you I needed you to go to that dance?"

I slipped the bookmark back between the pages of my novel, snapping it shut and shoving it into my bag, taking another drag before looking over at him with a frown. "Please tell me this isn't you asking to be my date."

He cringed immediately, practically recoiling at the thought. I was kidding, but his reaction stung a little bit, not that I would ever admit it. "Of course not," he said. "Listen, Scott needs to get into that dance, and I figure if he runs into any trouble then having compulsion-capable vampire on hand would make things run a bit smoother."

I considered his words as I blew smoke rings. It wasn't like I actually had any plans for that night, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if I did go, I might even enjoy myself. I doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

"Fine," I said, crushing the butt of my cigarette in my hand, singeing my skin before I dropped it to the ground, the minor wound healing instantly.

"Great!" he chirped happily, looking like he was holding himself back from fist pumping the air. "Okay, so I already bought you a ticket," he said, digging in his bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of paper.

I took it with a frown. "How'd you know I'd say yes?"

"I have some faith in you, you know?" he replied with a smirk, clapping his hands together. "Now, next on the agenda. A date."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Jules-yes!"

I didn't reply, I knew that if I did we'd just end up going round in circles. I glared at him, but it didn't seem to put him off. He merely turned to scan the quad, looking for a potential candidate.

"Look, you can't show up alone, it's pathetic."

"You're pathetic," I grumbled sourly, but he didn't take it to heart.

"Would you just pick someone? I'd do it for you, but the only person I know of that doesn't have a date yet is Greenburg," he said, still searching the crowd.

"I'd rather carve my eyes out with a butter knife."

"Thought so," he hummed before gesturing for me to move forwards. "Would you just go ask someone already? Worse comes to worst you could just compel yourself a date."

I looked at him, affronted by the suggestion. "I don't need to compel anyone to get a date," I hissed in annoyance.

"Prove it," he said with a smug grin, and I knew he was baiting me, playing me like a fiddle. But I found I didn't really mind. I shoved my bag into his arms, sliding to my feet and marching across the quad. I paused in the centre, my eyes scanning the gathered groups, looking for a victim.

Mostly everyone was in groups, giggling amongst themselves or shoving each other playfully. I didn't feel like approaching any of the clusters, so when I spotted a boy sitting on a bench off to the side with his head in a book, I jumped at the opportunity.

"Hello," I said, appearing in the spot next to him. He jumped a mile high, a high pitched yelp escaping his lips as he dropped his book, it landing with a thud to the cement. I reached down and scooped it up, brushing the dirt off of it before handing it back, listening to the sound of his heart slamming against his sternum.

"Uh, h-hello," he stuttered awkwardly, looking incredibly confused as to why I'd approached him.

I decided to just get it over with. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" I asked casually, lips curving up as his heartbeat sped up even further at my words.

"Do I-what?"

"Want to go? To the dance? With me?" I said again, slowly in case he wasn't all there in the head. He seemed intelligent enough though, and I hated to make assumptions.

He was silent for a long time, watching me. "Do you even know my name?" he asked finally, brow furrowed.

"No," I admitted easily. I stuck out my hand, knowing it was the polite thing to do. "I'm Juliet."

"I-I know," he said, slipping his hand into mine. His skin was warm and smooth against my own, and he made no comment about my temperature. "I'm Isaac. Isaac Lahey." I shot him my sweetest smile, and he returned it with a shaky one of his own. He was actually quite attractive once I noticed it. He had curly ash blonde hair and a jawline that could cut glass. His eyes were an astonishing baby blue, and I got the feeling he was sort of a loner. Maybe he wasn't such a bad choice then. 'Birds of a feather', and all that. "Is this some sort of joke?"

I tilted my head, letting go of his hand and crossing my arms. "No," I said honestly.

"Why ask me?"

"I need a date, and you were the most appealing option in the quad," I admitted, seeing no point in making anything else up.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said with a slightly more comfortable smile, seeming to warm up to me, which I found odd since it was in human nature to never warm up to us.

"So will you?" I asked, and he tilted his head curiously. I tried not to roll my eyes. "Go to the dance with me?"

"Oh, um," he mumbled, frowning at his shoes for a long moment before speaking up again. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

"Great," I said with an easy smile. "Uh, maybe next lunch I could..."

"We have English together," he said awkwardly, scratching a spot behind his ear. "And Chemistry."

"Oh," I replied with a grimace. "Right. Well I'll see you in one of those and we can go over the details?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, a smile once again growing on his pale lips.

"Great," I smiled, forcing it to light up my eyes. "See you Isaac."

He raised his hand in farewell, but I was already sliding from the bench, striding back towards Stiles, whose eyes followed my every move.

"One date; no compulsion," I said smugly, slipping back into my previously vacated seat and moving my bag back to my lap. Stiles had a sour scowl twisted across his face, and he stared at me with hard eyes. "Who pissed in your cheerios while I was gone?"

All at once the expression cleared and he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and smiling slightly. "Okay, step two completed. Step three: a dress."

"I'll just wear something from home," I said, waving off his words.

"Come on," he whined. "Look, Allison wants me to meet her at the mall after school, she said she has something to tell me. Why don't you come with me and we'll pick out a dress?"

"We?" I asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow at him.

Blotchy red spots appeared on his freckle splattered cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I mean, you can pick one out and I'll just be there for...moral support."

I laughed quietly at his expense, tipping my head back to bump against the bricks. "Whatever you say Stiles."


Stiles looked incredibly out of place in the women's section in the shop we were in, standing with his arms crossed as I sifted through the racks, looking for something that wasn't totally repulsive. I picked out a white cotton dress, holding it up against me and raising a curious eyebrow at him. He frowned and shook his head.

"You're too pale to wear white," he said. I crinkled my nose at him but didn't disagree, slipping it back into place and moving on to the next rack. "Is that like a vampire thing? The paleness?"

He spoke loudly, and a woman a row over shot him a look. I rolled my eyes. "Say it louder, I don't think the cashier behind the register heard you," I told him sarcastically and he winced apologetically. "But yes, it is a trait of vampirism to be extraordinarily pale."

I pulled out another dress, this one dark blue and ankle-length. I appraised it for a long moment before shaking my head, not even bothering to get Stiles' opinion before putting it back and moving on. "Check this out," I heard from behind me, and I turned around to look at Stiles who held up a bright pink poodle skirt that looked straight out of something from an old movie. "Did you ever wear this sort of thing, you know, 'back in the day'?"

I wanted to say no, but I didn't want to lie. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck for a moment before replying. "Yeah," I admitted, forcing my lips up into a smile. Stiles' face lit up excitedly.

"You have pictures, right?" he asked eagerly and before I could stop myself I nodded. He threw his fist into the air in celebration. "Oh man, I can't wait to see them."

I rolled my eyes even though suddenly I didn't have to force my smile anymore.

"You ever meet Elvis?" he asked after a beat as I tugged a lilac dress from the rack. I held it up against myself, then with a smirk moved and held it up against him. He rolled his eyes but struck a pose anyway, and I chuckled before putting it back.

"If I say no will this conversation end?" I asked scathingly, though it lacked any bite. He rolled his eyes, knowing I was just putting on an act.

"So you have?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah," I shrugged, grinning over at him. "I compelled my way backstage at one of his Vegas gigs, it was pretty cool."

"You've been to Vegas?"

"Many times."

"Man, I'd love to go there. Gotta wait until I'm twenty-one though, otherwise there's really no point in going...unless someone hooked me up with a realistic fake ID-"

"No."

He humphed, but knew to stop pushing. I smirked at him, watching as he picked up a women's fedora sitting on a shelf and tossing it onto his head. He paused, going cross-eyed as he looked up to see it. I snorted into my hand at the sight.

"Uh-uh," I shook my head negatively, wiggling my fingers for him to put it back. "Nope, never put a hat on ever again."

"What?" he asked dubiously, placing a hand to the hat protectively.

"It makes you look like a douche," I told him honestly, and he grimaced before taking it off and setting it back down where he found it.

"How about James Dean?" he asked again after a moment as I eyed a magenta dress.

It wasn't hard to see he was continuing our previous topic, and I winked at him over my shoulder. "Oh yeah."

"Really?" he questioned giddily.

"Nope," I laughed, watching him deflate. "I did meet Marilyn Monroe once though."

"Where?"

"She came and gave a talk at the college I was in at the time," I shrugged. "She wasn't really famous then though, so I didn't think it was a big deal until years later."

"Who else?" he asked eagerly.

"Hung out with Prince at a party once. That was a good night. Billy Crystal is a total dog, and don't even get me started on David Bowie."

"You have literally the coolest life," he gushed, picking out a black dress and holding it up for me to see. I shook my head at it and he slid it back into place.

"Yeah, being one of the undead and a complete social pariah is a real score," I replied sardonically and he tutted quietly, rolling his eyes at my dramatics.

We were quiet for a long time, me sifting through dress options and Stiles waiting patiently, until I'd finally narrowed it down to two dresses. I slipped into the changing room without telling him, not wanting to make a big deal of it.

I put on the green strapless one first. On the rack it looked gorgeous, but on it made me look like I was wrapped in seaweed. I swapped it for the red one, and after a full minute of staring I decided it was acceptable; tight around the bodice, made with delicate lace with long, loose sleeves and a short hemline. "Jules?" Stiles asked loudly from outside, and reluctantly I slipped from the changing room, standing in front of the curtain, my hands curled together awkwardly in front of me, my eyes on my shoes. "Huh," he hummed as he stopped in front of me, and I felt his eyes rake my body.

I realised I was being ridiculous and looked up, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.

He was smiling. "It's not terrible," he said casually, and for his sake I ignored the way his heart was racing. I nodded and went back behind the curtain, pulling it off and tugging on my old ripped jeans and comfortable baggy sweatshirt.

Stiles' text alert went off as I slipped my feet back into my worn combat boots.

"Allison's says to meet her and Lydia at the perfume counter," he told me when I stepped out, red dress thrown over my arm.

Great, Lydia was tagging along. I nodded without complaining, moving over to the counter, placing my items on it and pulling out my wallet.

"That'll be $245.59," the cashier told me, and Stiles sucked in a breath from behind me.

"Jules, are you kidding? Get something cheaper, you don't even want to go to this stupid thing..."

"Stiles, relax," I said, throwing him a reassuring smile over my shoulder.

"No way, seriously," he began, reaching forwards to move the dress off the counter. I slapped his hand away, glaring at him warningly before he could continue.

I handed the confused looking lady my card before leaning back to whisper to him, "I have over a hundred years of interest in my bank account, Stiles. Trust me when I say this won't even put a dent in my hoard."

His face scrunched up as the lady handed me the receipt to sign. I scribbled my signature, taking my bag from her with a nod. "Then why do you live in such a dump?"

"Just because I have money doesn't mean I particularly like spending it," I told him with a shrug. "Come on, perfume counter's this way."

"I thought you didn't know your way around the mall yet?"

"I can smell it," I admitted with a wince.

"Oh," he muttered. "Cool."

We ended up leaning against the counter, people watching as we waited for the girls to show up. "So why's Allison meeting you anyway?"

He lit up at my words. "You'll never believe what she's doing for me." I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me what it was. "She's getting Lydia to go to the formal with me."

My brow touched my hairline for a moment in surprise, before I nodded at the eager boy, smiling unenthusiastically for him. "Great," I said flatly, and his expression dropped.

"Why don't you like her?"

"Because she's shallow and vapid and entirely boring," I said shamelessly, turning around and picking up a small bottle of floral perfume, sniffing the lid curiously before spraying it onto my wrists.

"You're wrong," he said like it was an obvious fact, and I put down the glass bottle, watching him as he struggled to put together the right words. "She's actually really smart. I mean, really smart. She knows more than I probably ever will. And she's kind, underneath the whole 'popular girl' persona. I think she just acts shallow because that's what people expect of her. Kind of like how you act like an uncaring, unfeeling bitch because that's what people expect from you."

He had a point, though the last thing I wanted to do was admit it.

"Would you just give her a chance?"

Then he looked at me with those big, sad, eyes and I couldn't find it in me to say no.

"Sure," I muttered, nose crinkled like I smelled something putrid.

His pleading expression gave way to a satisfied grin and I rolled my eyes again. He picked up a bottle of his own, sniffing it before accidentally pressing the trigger, making it spray in his face. He coughed, dropping the bottle. I picked it from the air, catching it before it could hit the ground and laying it gently on the counter.

"Hey guys," Allison greeted us with a bright smile, waving happily, a scowling Lydia on her tail.

"Hey Allison!" Stiles chirped, standing up straighter, shooting them a dopey grin. "Hey Lydia."

The queen bee didn't stop for a moment, not even acknowledging he'd even spoken as she brushed passed him, heading straight for the dress section we'd just come from. "What do you think about teal, Allison?" she asked her friend, already intent on searching for an outfit.

"I think it's a great colour, it'll really make your eyes pop," the older girl responded dutifully.

Lydia nodded and pulled a dress off the rack, throwing it over onto a surprised Stiles. "What's in the bag?" Allison asked me quietly as we trailed along behind the pair, the boy's arms quickly being piled with more clothing.

"My dress for the formal," I told her.

"Who are you taking?" she asked, leaning closer like I was about to tell her the best gossip ever. Suddenly horror flooded her face, and hands shooting up to cover her glossy lips. "Oh my God, you didn't want to take Stiles did you?!"

I jerked back in shock at her words. "No?" I said immediately, cringing at the very thought. "Of course not."

"So you guys are just friends?" she confirmed, still looking troubled.

"Barely even that," I shrugged carelessly, but she sent me an annoyingly knowing look nonetheless. Okay, so that was a blatant lie; Stiles had the potential to be the best friend I'd had in decades, but that didn't mean I liked admitted my pathetic affection for the kid.

"Ah, okay, so are you just gonna try these on right now?" Stiles asked from ahead of us. "All of them?"

Lydia didn't have the decency to answer, sticking her nose in the air and strutting off towards the changing rooms. I rolled my eyes but didn't comment to keep my word of being a good girl to Stiles. "These are pretty," Allison spoke up again, running her hands over the material of the dresses on the rack.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my fingertips began to tingle and my mouth went dry. The alpha was here. I could sense him.

"That's not your colour," a voice behind us said, and I spun around instantly, slamming my lips closed so nobody could see my exposed fangs. Peter was standing beside Allison, looking between her and the dress she held with a critical eye. "Sorry if that was intrusive but considering your skin tone I'd go lighter."

"Watch a lot of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, do you?" I asked, my tone bitterly cold.

"It's fine, Juliet," Allison said, looking over her shoulder at me with a small smile. "It's because I'm pale?" she said, looking back at the alpha.

"Fair," he corrected sweetly. "I mean you can't call skin like yours 'pale', not skin that perfect."

My hands curled into fists of stone, my nails digging into the skin, though not hard enough to draw blood. "Okay," Allison giggled, clearly uncomfortable.

"Trust me, I have a unique perspective on the subject," he said, twisting around to pick up a new dress. My jaw clicked, and I glanced back to where Stiles stood just out of sight. He was safe, for now. I wished we weren't in a crowded store with security cameras watching our every move. If this meeting had been set in a secluded place it would be going very differently. "Do you mind?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before grabbing her hand and pulling it to him, pressing it to the fabric of the new dress. "See? Much better."

He put it back where he found it, turning back around to smile at her, completely ignoring me.

"You're not here alone, are you?" he asked lightly. "Shopping for dresses with friends?" I stepped forwards, hesitating only a brief moment before slipping my hand into hers. If she noticed my cooler than average skin she didn't show it, squeezing my hand back gratefully while a scared and vulnerable expression covered her pretty face. "High school dance," he said like he was only just figuring it out.

"Formal," she replied softly, and I bit down on my tongue with my fangs to keep from snapping at him. I might not be willing to risk exposure, but who knew what the psychopathic bastard was willing to do.

"I for one, think the light pink dress would do wonders for your-"

"That's enough," I snapped, squeezing Allison's hand tighter when her heart rate picked up. "I think you need to leave."

"I'm sorry, am I making you...uncomfortable?" he asked, feigning concern. I stepped forwards so Allison couldn't see my face, glaring up at the alpha (which looked ridiculous since he had nearly a foot on me). The blood drained to my eyes, which quickly turned a bloody crimson. His smirk only widened, and Allison desperately tugged me back to stand beside her, apparently scared for my safety.

"Attention shoppers, the owner of a blue Honda licence number: 2IKPL3, your car is being towed."

"Oh crap, that's my car," Allison swore, dropping my hand and moving to dig around in her bag. She turned to go, but paused and looked back at me, "Are you coming?"

"I'll wait for Stiles," I said, not taking my eyes off the alpha.

Allison hesitated. "Are you sure?" She clearly didn't want me alone with the guy.

I glanced away from him to flash her a reassuring smile, fangs hidden back inside my gums. "Go, quickly," I told her lightly, and with a final frown she nodded, turning away and rushing down the isle towards the exit.

"I continue to be impressed with your ingenuity Scott, but remember: you can't be everywhere all the time," Peter said, and I blinked, not having realised Scott was with us. For the first time since seeing him I extended my bubble of awareness out, my senses easily picking up the scent of Scott nearby. "And as for you," he began, shifting his piercing gaze to meet my own. "What's a little nomadic vampire like yourself doing in werewolf territory like Beacon Hills? Surely things would be more convenient for you in say...Mystic Falls?"

"Convenient, yes," I said with a wicked smirk. "But not nearly as fun. I like giving idiotic wolves a run for their money, must be my sense of adventure."

He stepped closer, eyes flashing red for a split second. "I'm stronger than you."

"And I'm faster," I said, staring up at him, my expression ice cold. "So I'd say the winner of a wrestling match would be solely up to chance, and are you really willing to take that risk, Peter?"

He smiled, taking what I'd said with a grain of salt. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, leach."

"Can barely wait, mutt."

With a final wolfish grin he disappeared around the corner. There was a beat, then Scott came tumbling out from his hiding place, heart beating wildly. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course I'm okay," I said with a frown. "You should be keeping an eye on Allison."

"I had to make sure you'd be alright."

For a split second I was almost...touched. Then common sense clicked back into place and I rolled my eyes, gently pushing him back the way Allison had gone. "Go find her," I said. "I'll watch Stiles and the Barbie doll."

He nodded, walking as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself as he made his way to his love.


It was the night.

I hadn't been looking forward to it, and now that it was here, I was, if possible, even less enthusiastic about the whole thing. I leaned against the entrance, cigarette in hand as I scanned the crowd for my date. Neither of us had a car, and he said walking to either of our houses would be too far out of each others way or some lame excuse like that. Either way we hadn't arrived together, so now I was just waiting for him to show up.

I tapped the heel of my boot on the ground to the beat of the music coming from inside. I didn't know the song so I couldn't hum along, I just nodded my head and took long, relaxing drags of smoke.

"That'll kill you, you know?" a somewhat familiar voice asked, and I looked up at Isaac as he approached.

He looked good, apart from the split lip and slight limp he was sporting. His suit was a few sizes too big and his shoes squeaked as he walked. "Who kicked your ass?" I asked teasingly, not expecting the question to make him wince like he was in more pain. "You clean up nice," I tried again, and this time he smiled shyly, hands twisting in front of him.

"You too."

I raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, referring to my minimal makeup and third-day hair.

He smiled wider, "Seriously, you do."

That was just the hormones and my unnatural vampiric pull talking, but I let it be, dropping my half finished cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of my boot. "Shall we?" I asked, inclining my head towards the entrance. He nodded, eager but still shy, and didn't move until I did first, having me lead the way.

The music was louder once we were inside, but I still didn't recognise the song. I walked over to the punch bowl, hoping somebody had spiked it already. I poured a cup, took a long sip and grinned when it had the bite that came with tequila.

"Want some spiked punch?" I called to Isaac over to music, and he nodded, looking a little nervous and red, as though his tie was choking him. I handed one over anyway, something in the back of my mind telling me that it should have been part of my new code of conduct not to supply minors with alcohol, but I couldn't find it in me to care. "Do you want to dance?" I asked after a beat, both of us pressed up against the far wall.

"Uh," he hesitated, glancing down at his leg with a frustrated look. "I-I don't think I should..."

"That's fine," I replied with what I hoped was my softest smile. I reached out and grabbed his elbow, tugging him away from the wall and over to the bleachers. It was the furthest away from the source of the music, therefore the easiest place to talk.

We sat down somewhere towards the top, overlooking the sizeable crowd. "So where're you from?" Isaac asked me, sipping his drink, trying to hide his wince at the taste.

"New York," I said dishonestly, sticking with the same story I'd been using in this God forsaken town. "You?"

"Beacon Hills, born and raised," he said with a sour smile.

"Any siblings?" I asked to be polite, but once again I'd said the wrong thing, as he cringed like I'd kicked him.

"I had a brother," he answered reluctantly.

I was quiet for a time, considering how to reply. Eventually I bumped his shoulder lightly with mine and he looked down at me with hesitant eyes. "I had a sister," I told him, for once not having to lie.

His expression was sombre, but he lit up slightly when I spoke. Happy I could empathise, perhaps?

"McCall!" Coach's familiar voice yelled through the hall, bouncing off the walls and clearly audible over the music. Isaac jumped, while I merely looked calmly across the room, eyes instantly locking onto Scott pushing through the crowd in a desperate attempt to escape Coach.

I practically fell off my chair laughing when he darted into Danny's arms, making it impossible for Coach to yell at him, especially when all eyes turned to them, the music stopping and everything going silent, leaving the Coach to awkwardly back-peddle out of there.

Isaac was chuckling beside me, clearly more of an introvert than an extravert, but I didn't mind. It was a nice change of pace from Stiles' constant fifth-gear presence. "So what's the deal with you and Stilinski?" Isaac asked after a pause as we both recovered from the spectacle.

"We're friends," I shrugged, for once not minding that I was admitting that. "He's a good guy."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I haven't talked to him much, even though we've been on the team together all year."

I started, draining the last of the spiked punch from my cup before throwing him a surprised look. "You're on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah," he nodded, cracking a small smile. "I don't have many friends, so I kind of go unnoticed. I'm not surprised you didn't know."

It was quiet for a moment as both of us watched everyone dance below us.

"Did you know that Coach lost a testicle to exposure a few years back?"

I started once again. This guy had a knack for keeping me on my toes. "He what?"

"Yeah, he talks about it all the time," Isaac laughed.

"So he only has one-?"

"Yeah."

I threw my head back and laughed loudly. I elbowed Isaac gently, running a hand through my ebony hair to keep it off my face, taking a deep breath as I stopped laughing. I was about to ask for more details when I felt the heavy weight of eyes on me. I sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as I stared out into the crowd, looking for any hint of the alpha.

I couldn't see the older werewolf anywhere, so I put it down to one of the creepier students and turned back to my conversation with Isaac.

Soon enough the music slowed, and I looked to my date with mischievous eyes. "Can we dance now?" I asked, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically. "We could get away with standing still and swaying for a few songs."

He looked like he wanted to say no, but he changed his mind at the last second. "Sure," he said, standing to his feet, wobbling only minimally, and holding out his arm for me to take. I did so with a smile, leading him down the stairs, being careful not to take a suspicious amount of his weight.

We made our way to the edge of the dance floor. He was more than a head taller than me, so the angle I had to tilt myself to probably looked humorous, but we didn't care.

"Check out Lindsey Farrowfield's neck," he leant down to mumble in my ear. I didn't know who that was, and my pointed look said as much. He laughed again. "The one in the pink floral dress, six-o'clock."

I gently spun us around, pushing myself to my toes to look over his shoulder at the girl. She had several red hickeys spread across the pale skin of her neck, and the guy she was dancing with had a good handful of her ass. I sniggered into Isaac's shoulder, feeling him rumble as he chuckled along with me.

"You know," I began, tightening my arms around his neck. "You turned out not to be such a bad date, Isaac."

He didn't answer, just ducking his head and smiling. We danced for a long time, so long I was sure his hurt leg was starting to ache, but he didn't complain, apparently happy to continue dancing with me. I felt happy; maybe I'd made another friend in the werewolf-ridden hellhole.

He pulled back, opening his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a hand slamming down on my shoulder. I stepped back from him, turning to look at Jackson, irritated and expectant. "What?"

"They're here for Scott," he said, sounding breathless, eyes glancing at Isaac before focusing back on me. "And Stiles needs you outside."

He had to speak in code since Isaac was listening in, but I got the message loud and clear. I pulled away from my date, frowning apologetically. "Sorry, I need to go Isaac," I said quickly. "I'll see you later okay?"

I didn't wait for his reply, it didn't matter. I took off at my fastest human pace, my small and sensible heals clicking against the floor. As soon as I was out of the gym I pushed myself faster, disappearing to the human eye as I sped through the halls. I all but fell out of the front doors, looking around wildly for my friend and his stupid date.

"Stiles?!" I yelled, anxiety creeping through me. I took a sniff of the cool night air, biting my tongue when I noticed one that stood out from all the rest. Blood.

I booked it, rounding the school, dashing onto the field where two figures were kneeling over an unconscious form. I rematerialised at their side, my fist slamming into Peter's jaw, sending him flying back several feet. He climbed back up after only a split second, growling furiously at me.

My fangs slipped free, blood filling my eyes, the white turning red, and I let out a purely animalistic snarl, crouching defensively in front of Stiles and Lydia. He ran at me but I easily dodged out of the way, landing a painful kick to his abdomen. He grunted but swung around, slamming his own fist into my jaw. My head snapped to the side as I spat out a mouthful of blood. I went to kick him between the legs, but he caught my ankle and used my own momentum against me, slamming me into the ground. My head cracked against the ground and spots danced in my vision for a long moment.

Next thing I knew I was being picked up by my throat and held in the air. I couldn't breath, but that wouldn't kill me. My feet kicked, looking for any sort of traction, any hint of ground.

"Asshole," I chocked, desperately pulling at his hand.

"That's what I hate about vampires," he tutted. "Always so mouthy." He sighed, turning to face Stiles as he brought me to his chest, hand still wrapped painfully tightly around my windpipe. I was glad to have my feet on the ground though; silver lining. "Since the threat of the human's life isn't enough to make you cooperate, maybe the life of this vampire's will be..."

I looked at Stiles, listening to the sound of his heart slamming away in his chest. I could smell the fear on him. Well, I would have, if I'd been able to breathe.

"Do you know what a werewolf bite does to a vampire, Stiles?" Peter asked, watching the boy as he shook, glaring with as much hate as he could muster at the alpha. He was so angry that his eyes were watering, and if anything I felt bad for making him upset. "It kills them, yes. But not instantly. No, it's a slow and painful death. First are the shakes, then the sweats. It's like having the flu. Then comes the hallucinations. Vivid, vivid hallucinations. Then the psychosis, oh, now that's the worst part." There was a pause, and a tear slipped down Stiles' cheek. "Need I continue? Give me what I want, and I won't bite your little undead girlfriend."

"Don't Sti-" he cut me off, tightening his grip on my throat.

"Look," Stiles began shakily, and I shut my eyes in defeat. "I think he knew..."

"Knew what?" Peter asked impatiently.

"Derek, I think he knew he was going to get caught."

"By the Argents? And?"

"And when they were shot, he and Scott...I think he took Scott's phone."

"Why?"

"Stiles-" I tried again, but Peter growled in my ear.

"Say another word and I'll snap your neck. You'll be out of action for a good few hours then, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" he warned me, and I glared at him with every ounce of hate I could muster. Which was a lot more than the kid could.

"All phones have GPS now," he said. "So if he still has it and if it's still on, you can find him."

The alpha was silent for a long time, considering his words. He finally relaxed his hold on my neck, but still held tight enough that I couldn't move; at least I could breathe. He leant forwards, lips brushing my ear as he spoke. "If you run, he dies," he murmured to me, squeezing in warning one final time before letting me go.

And I didn't run.

Of course I didn't run, like I could leave Stiles alone with that creep. I stepped to his side, and the kid's hand instantly wrapped around mine, tugging me behind him like that would in any way protect me. I glanced at the unconscious girl on the ground, noticing Stiles watching her. "You're both coming with me."

"You don't need Juliet," Stiles spoke up immediately. "Just take me."

I rolled my eyes at him, too tense to find him adorable right then. "But you see Stiles, having a vampire on my side could be very beneficial."

"She'd never help you," he spat.

Peter smirked. "I think she will. Especially when your fragile human life hangs in the balance."

Stiles' heart picked up again, and I squeezed his hand once more, letting him know I was still there. "What's to say I don't just take him and run?" I asked, my tone deceivingly light.

"I'll come back the next day. And the next. And the next. And the one after that," he tilted his head to the side, peering at me through beady little eyes. "You can't protect him forever." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, raising it to his lips and dabbing at the blood there, completely aware of the sinking dread in my gut. He was right, eventually I'd slip up and he'd get to Stiles. If we ran, who knew how long it could go on for? Our best bet was to ride this through now, maybe I'd get a chance to catch the alpha unawares, get a chance to end this once and for all. "Come along, children," he said condescendingly, and I cringed, biting back a quip about how many years I had over him.

"No, I'm not just letting you leave her here," Stiles protested, hand slipping from mine as he knelt by a barely breathing Lydia's side.

"You don't have a choice, Stiles. You're coming with me," Peter replied calmly, frowning down at the girl for a moment before nodding to himself. "Okay, call your friend. Tell Jackson to come and get her."

Stiles complied, taking a step away as he called the jock. I peered down at the girl with a frown. Either she'd die, or she'd wake up with a new set of canines. Either way I still didn't like her.


A/N: Hey guys hoping you like this chapter. Almost at the end of the first season, and as we move into the second one things are going to be heating up big time between Stiles and Juliet, can't wait for you all to read it :)

Pop me a review if you enjoyed this one xo