All those times we looked up at the sky

Looking out so far, it felt like we could fly

And now I'm all alone in the dark of night

And the moon is shining, but I can't see the light.

Stars – Grace Potter


"I don't wanna know."

Stiles shot out of the seat, blinking his eyes open and searching wildly for the source of the sentence. His gaze fixed on where I sat on the seat beside him, one leg crossed over the other, face clear of emotion. I was thrown back to several weeks ago, when we'd sat in the exact same place, back before I'd considered him a friend. "What?" he asked me innocently, not-so-subtly wiping drool from his lip and straightening his shirt, the balloon tied to his wrist bobbing in the air near his face, bumping him in the nose.

"Please," I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare. "I can smell your arousal."

He grunted indignantly, nose crinkling in my direction. "No using your supernatural abilities to find ways to embarrass me," he said in a way I'm sure he meant to come across as stern. "We've been over this, it isn't fair." I was quiet, staring back at him impassively. "What are you doing here anyway?"

I lifted one shoulder, the soft green wool of my sweater sliding down to reveal my bra strap, though I couldn't be bothered fixing it. I nodded to the ground, where my duffel bag full of blood lay at my feet. "Snack run," I told him, one corner of my lips twitching up into a smirk as he grimaced, rolling his eyes in my direction.

Suddenly a loud grumble broke the calm of the nearly empty waiting room, and we both looked at his stomach accusingly. "Looks like I could go for one of those right about now," he said before frowning in disgust. "A snack run, not a blood bag."

"Thank God you made that distinction, otherwise I would have been so confused," I said scathingly, and he snorted, patting his hungry stomach and frowning at the door to Lydia's room, clearly torn between searching for sustenance and being there for his long-time obsession. I huffed, unable to believe it had gotten to the point where I was considering being helpful, digging in my pocket until I pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and some loose change. "Will vending machine food tide you over?"

His face brightened considerably, and he shot me a smile so bright it hurt to look directly at it. I slid to my feet. "Come on," I told him, kicking the duffel full of blood under the seat, making sure it was properly zipped up. "You can pick something."

He untied the balloon from his wrist, attaching it to the armrest of his chair before springing to his feet and following along after me. I moved through the halls, turning the corner and heading for the vending machines. I leant against the wall, watching with minimal curiosity as he yawned loudly, staring at the options behind the glass in front of him.

"Why don't you go home?" I asked, trying not to sound as curious as I felt. "I mean, you being here isn't exactly helping her in any way, you haven't even seen her all weekend."

He winced, continuing to stare at his options like they were the most interesting thing in the room. "I just needed to be here," he said with a shrug. "I'm sure you'd do the same if it was someone you really cared about."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that one. Was there anyone I cared enough about to stay in an uncomfortable hospital chair and sniff the sterile scent of the building all day? No names came to mind.

"Reese's," he said finally, tapping on the glass, leaving a dirty fingerprint behind. I fed the correct money into the machine, gesturing for him to key in the coordinates for his desired treat. He did so with an eager smile, watching in anticipation as the spiral holding back the treat uncurled, before it suddenly stopped, the bar of candy getting stuck before it fell. Stiles' face fell and his shoulders slumped. "Seriously?" he mumbled exasperatedly, violently pressing the button as though it would fix the problem. He turned to me, shooting me a pointed look.

"What do you expect me to do?" I asked with a frown. "Break the glass?" His expression picked up again, a spark lighting up his eyes. "I'm not breaking the glass," I deadpanned, staring at him, entirely unimpressed. He shot me an irritated look, succeeding only in making me roll my eyes. I didn't move, watching as he turned his attention back to the machine. He scowled, bracing himself and grasping either side of it, taking a deep breath and lifting.

Nothing happened except he made a pained noise and the metal creaked. He huffed loudly, stepping back to assess the situation. He looked at me, eyes wide and pleading, "can't you just-"

"But it's just so much more fun to watch you struggle," I chirped, tilting my head to the side and smirking at him teasingly.

"Evil," he muttered bitterly, eyes back on the task at hand. I chuckled under my breath, if not helping him break a vending machine was his biggest problem with me, maybe this whole 'friendship' thing wasn't such a terrible idea. He surged forwards suddenly, grasping the top of the machine and violently shaking it. I cackled loudly as it tipped forwards, Stiles scrambling out of the way, gasping in shock when it fell to the ground, the sound of smashing glass echoing through the halls. Stiles stared at the scene with wide eyes, and I clapped him playfully on the back, giddy from the humour.

"You are one smooth dude, Stiles," I said with the toothy grin that Stiles' had once told me reminded him of the shark from Finding Nemo.

He shot me a look that was a blend between sour and sheepish, opening his mouth to comment when a loud ear piercing scream rang through the hospital. "Lydia?" he said instead, and before he could so much as take a step I was in the injured girl's bathroom, staring at the empty shower and open window with a frown.

Two adults and Stiles ran in to the room an eternity later, and after a silent moment Stiles pulled me aside.

"Where is she?" he asked me, a touch of desperation to his tone as the nurse began ordering for a search of the hospital. I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? I had no idea where she was, and I didn't have the first clue where the mentally damaged girl would wander off to naked in the middle of the night. "Can you track her?" he tried when he seemed to understand that I wasn't going to reply with an answer he'd enjoy.

"Maybe," I allowed with a cautious nod, narrowing my eyes at the window, my keen cat-like eyes slicing through the darkness, looking for any hint of the girl. "You should call Scott though," I admitted reluctantly, keeping my voice low so nobody could overhear. "He's got a stronger sense of smell. Derek would be helpful too."

Stiles scowled at Derek's name. "I'll call Scott," he said, ignoring my other suggestion.

"Okay, make sure you take my bag of blood back to yours, I'll come collect it later. And tell Scott I'll meet him in the woods," I said, spinning around and moving to the open window. I threw one leg over the windowsill, sitting uncomfortably on the cool metal. I glanced back at Stiles, taken aback by the devastated look on his face. I felt like I should say something, but I never was any good at the whole 'comfort' charade. "Stiles," I said before I'd realised I'd made a conscious decision to speak, frowning when his attention snapped to me. Now I had to say something. "It's going to be okay," I told him gently, though I didn't really believe my own words.

He looked grateful for my attempt nonetheless, giving me a sad twitch of his lips, turning around and moving from the room. I sighed, staring out into the shadows for a long moment before shaking my head, forcing myself to get my head back in the right space, and launching myself from the room, following what little tracks the girl had left behind.

I slipped through the trees, my feet barely making an imprint on the soft earth. I paused by an old stump of what I'm sure was once a beautiful oak, sniffing the air. I took a sharp turn left, following at top speeds. As I ran, I began to frown. The forests were beginning to look familiar. After a moment I knew why as I pulled to a stop at the mouth of a clearing, the rickety old burnt down remains of the Hale house looming above me in the darkness.

"Lydia?" I called tentatively, tilting my head to the side as I listened for any hint that there was a human (now, potentially a werewolf) in the darkness. There was nothing, not even a heartbeat. I walked around the house twice, looking to see where the tracks led, only to find they ended at the house. With a heavy sigh I slipped through the broken front door, eyeing the charred walls and dangerously splintered stairs.

I stayed perfectly still, waiting for any sign of life. Bar a squirrel in the tree outside and a family of rats out the back, the house was empty.

"She came here?" Stiles asked loudly as they approached. "Are you sure?"

"This is where the scent leads," the teen wolf responded with a shrug as I slid from the house, appearing on the blackened porch.

"Took you long enough," I said loudly, leaning my weight against the railing, grimacing when it creaked. Allison looked surprised to see me there, the boys obviously hadn't filled her in. I lifted a hand, wiggling my fingers at her in greeting. I heard her heartbeat pick up before she took a deep, calming breath, her heart rate slowing and a small, peaceful smile rested on her lips.

"Alright, now that we're all present and up to date," Stiles said sharply, and I got the feeling he didn't want to be wasting any time with pleasantries. "Does anyone know if Lydia has ever been here before?"

"Not with me," Allison said, shaking her head, pulling her coat tighter around her as Scott shook his head in the negative.

Stiles moved forwards, heading closer to me as Scott and his girlfriend hung back to whisper between themselves. "So this is where the trail ends?" he asked quietly, knowing I could hear him. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and moved down the unstable looking porch stairs, my boots crunching the leaves fallen from the trees. I headed towards him, nodding once I was close enough to him that he could see it. "And she's definitely not in the house?"

"Nope," I told him, coming to a stop beside him.

"Do you think she's turning?" he asked tentatively after a beat, awkwardly balling his fists and shoving them in his own pockets, mirroring my stance.

"I think you either turn or you die," I said, my voice steely. "And she isn't dead yet."

"So there's no other outcome?" he questioned, desperate for an answer I wasn't sure I could give. "No other way this could turn out?"

I opened my mouth to say no, I was really close to it too, but something flitted across my mind. Years and years ago, a century even, I'd come across someone who hadn't turned after being bitten, and who hadn't died either. But that couldn't be what was happening here, because that person was a-

"Hey, look at this," he exclaimed suddenly, kneeling down to the muddy ground as he caught sight of a long, thin wire spread across two trees. "I think it's a trip wire," he said, completely distracted from our previous conversation. He touched it gently, considering it for a moment before yanking it upwards. There was a yelp behind me and I spun around, chortling at the sight of Scott strung upside down from a rope.

"Stiles?" he said cooly as I chuckled to myself.

"Yeah buddy?" his best friend asked, turning around, stopping short at the sight that he was met with.

"Next time you see a trip wire, don't trip it," Scott told him sternly, swinging softly from side to side. Allison giggled, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, watching her boyfriend fondly.

"Noted."

They both smiled, and it was a brief, peaceful moment before the loud crunch of dried leaves met my sensitive ears. "Wait," I hissed, stepping closer to Scott. The other two could get away, Scott was stuck there for now, unable to defend himself. I figured that was the priority. "Someone's coming."

"Hide," Scott urged them quietly, waving them away. "Go," he prompted when they didn't move.

Allison scrambled away, moving off into the shadows. Stiles made a grab at my wrist, trying to pull me with him. "Stiles," I snapped softly, dropping his hand and giving him a gentle shove in the direction Allison had gone. He shot me a reluctant look but did as he was told. I positioned myself in front of a vulnerable Scott, facing the approaching hunters.

They moved from the darkness, boots squeaking lightly, about as stealthy as humans got. Argent walked forwards, cool stare on his handsome face as he regarded me carefully before turning his attention to Scott.

"Scott," he said cordially, not even bothering to greet me. I wasn't surprised; to hunters, vampires were even lower on the totem pole than werewolves.

"Mr Argent," the boy responded with an awkward nod.

"How are you going?"

"Good, just..." he trailed off, glancing at where the rope held him by the ankle, dangling him from the branch of a large tree. "Is this one of yours? It's ah, it's a good design, very constricting."

I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to face palm at the small talk. "What are you doing out here Scott?" he asked bluntly.

"We're looking for Lydia," I supplied, and he looked at me sharply, loathing overflowing in his expression.

"That's right," he said, glancing at the forest floor contemplatively before looking back at Scott, apparently deciding I wasn't worth speaking to. "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the wolf. "Clique, is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it...part of your pack?" Argent's frown deepened and he turned to look at me, a disgusted glare on his face. "Or maybe the right word is...coven."

I snorted loudly, a gesture he definitely didn't appreciate. "Vampire jokes," I chirped with a smirk, wagging my eyebrows at him. "Classy."

"Actually clique sounds about right to me," Scott said, attempting to defuse the tension.

"I hope so. Because I know she's a friend of Allison's and one or two special circumstances like yourselves? That I can handle," he told us, face stony and voice grave. "But not another." He looked up at me, clearly wishing he could shove a stake through my heart right then and there. "Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" he asked conversationally, apparently changing tactics. I shifted slightly in front of Scott, an action the hunter didn't miss.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," the teen wolf muttered from where he hung.

"It's the medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone and fat," he paused, eyes narrowing into slits. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

He stood to his feet, attention slipping from the wolf to me.

"I'd make a threat, but I think you already get the gist of what I'm going to say," he said, tilting his head, examining me closely.

"Let me guess," I began, crossing my arms over my chest and smirking at him carelessly. "It involves either pointy wooden sticks, decapitation, or maybe even fire if you wanna get really creative." He continued to stare at me, his hard expression not breaking for even a second. "I've been at this a lot longer than you, little boy," I warned him, starting off light, but soon trailing off into darker, more dangerous tones.

"Well, as long as you keep your fangs out of people's necks, I don't see us having to battle it out to really see who would really win in a fight to the death."

I stepped closer to him, and the men behind him shifted, their hands darting to their waists where there was no doubt weapons concealed. "Don't think you are in any way protected just because you're Allison's father," I told him quietly, making sure that Allison (who I had no doubt was doing her best to listen in) wouldn't overhear.

"Keep making threats like that and you might just wake up dead," he said, voice just as dark.

I chortled, an amused smirk spreading across my lips, "I'm already dead." He grimaced like he was disgusted I had reminded him. A hand grabbed mine and tugged, I knew without looking it was Scott, warning me to play this smart. "It was nice chatting with you Chris," I said pleasantly, fluttering my eyelashes and forcing my lips to turn up at the corners.

He didn't rise to my bait, merely glaring at me hostilely for a long moment before turning around, and leisurely making his way back into the shadows, his minions following close at his heels. Everything was still for a beat before the sound of hurried footsteps made their way to where we stood. "You okay?" Allison asked us worriedly, though focusing mostly on her boy toy.

"Just another life threatening conversation with your dad," he answered, aiming for funny but definitely falling short.

"Stiles, help me with this," she said, jogging over to where the rope was pulled taught by his weight.

"Thanks," Scott said, cutting the wire with his claw, landing on solid ground not a moment later. "But I think I got it."

"Come on," Stiles said with a weak laugh. "Another sweep of the house won't hurt."

We all nodded, following him up the small hill the Hale house sat on.


I smirked amusedly as Stiles got himself in trouble with Harris, chuckling under my breath as I discretely carved a pentagram into the wood of the desk I was sitting at. "Jackson," a voice behind me said, and I looked up as I heard the boy's heart rate skyrocket. What I saw floored me. Black was dripping from the asshole's nose, but I knew it wasn't blood. I knew what it really was, and that wasn't anything good. I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocking it under the desk and typing out a quick, concise text to everyone's favourite alpha.

I stopped worrying after I heard Derek talking with Jackson in the bathroom down the hall, ignoring Stiles' urgent whispers wondering what the hell was going on.

I stayed behind after school, reading in the library for a lack of anything better to do. I was just on my way through to the front doors when I heard Stiles arguing with Harris about leaving detention on time. I weighed my options, ultimately deciding that getting Stiles out of the situation he was in was something a friend would do. So I sighed, grabbing the handle and twisting it, sliding into the room. "Ms Cooper," Harris greeted me coldly, barely looking up from the papers he was grading. "How can I help you?"

Stiles perked up hopefully at the sight of me, practically screaming at me with his eyes to get him the hell out of there. "Stiles is leaving now," I said simply, my features schooled. Harris paused, his pen hovering in the air as he turned to look at me, one sharp brow raised.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I said," I began, placing one hand on his desk, the other on the back of his chair so I could lean in, catching his cold, beady eyes with my own. "Stiles is leaving now." There was a beat as I held his gaze, before I blinked and broke my hold over him. "Come on," I said to Stiles, pushing myself back up into a standing position and looking at the boy who appeared downright giddy. He all but leapt from his seat, bouncing to his feet and scurrying over to me.

"You're literally a life saver," he said as I led him from the room. "Which is ironic, considering you're a v-"

"Yeah, I see the irony," I said, cutting him off, rolling my eyes and turning down a hallway to the right, heading for the front door.

"Are you going to Kate's funeral?" he asked conversationally as I pushed open the heavy doors, stepping out into the overcast day before making a beeline for the pavement, intent on getting home, having some dinner and watching shitty sci-fi movies until I fell asleep.

"Re-assess that statement Stilinski," I told him, glancing at him over my shoulder as he walked with me. "Why the hell would I go to that bitch's funeral? Last I knew, you don't go to people's funerals if you wanted them dead. You only go if you're actually mourning."

He was quiet for a second, contemplating my words. "Scott and I will be there for Allison," he said as he shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder. "I thought you might be too."

"Nope," I responded guiltlessly, tugging my coat closer around me, though it had little to do with the temperature.

"Well it's at the cemetery if you change your mind," he told me, something like hope in his eyes.

"That's generally where funerals are held, yeah," I said, pausing on the pavement next to his jeep. He chuckled lightly, fiddling with his keys.

"Want a ride home? It's on my way," he said with forced casualness.

I pondered the option for a moment before shaking my head. "Nah," I said, "I was gonna take a detour home through the woods; see if I can catch Lydia's scent or something." He smiled, but this time it wasn't amused or sarcastic, it was purely...happy. It rattled me. "What?" I asked self-consciously, my brows pulling together as I glanced down at my purple top and trench coat, wondering if I'd spilt something on myself.

"You just-you like to put on this act that you don't care," he explained with that stupid smile, and before he'd even finished the sentence I'd tensed up. "But you care a lot, underneath the punk rock getup and nasty attitude."

I pursed my lips, fixing him with a sharp look. "Okay Doctor Phil," I said harshly, tone leaving no room for interpretation. "Are we done?"

"We're done," he confirmed with a nod, that grin of his just refusing to fade. I opened my mouth to say something but he beat me to the punch. "Call you if we need anything?"

"What?"

"That's what you usually say," he replied, grinning toothily. "'Call if you need anything'," he said again, voice light. "That's how you say goodbye."

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if I was just imagining the fond tone he spoke with. "I'm leaving now," I said flatly, shooting him an unimpressed look. It did nothing to dampen his spirits.

"Talk later," he said, unlocking his Jeep and climbing into the drivers seat. I shoved down the urge to look back over my shoulder as he drove passed me, taking a sharp left into the line of trees that marked the start of the woods.


I had almost finished an old B-grade science fiction flick I'd picked up when I got the call. "Route 5 and post," said the familiar voice on the other end. I'd been at this for long enough to know to stop asking questions, particularly when Stiles was involved.

"Be there in five," I said in reply before hanging up and pulling an old college sweater over my tank top, slipping my feet into a pair of boots and leaving the house. It didn't take long to run there, especially since I'd had my fill of A-positive only an hour before.

I came to a stop at the edge of the forest, staring at the ambulance interior covered in human blood where it sat on the edge of the deserted road. I knew this was the boys' most recent lead on Lydia, but something about the whole thing didn't add up, not to mention I couldn't catch a hint of her scent anywhere on the vehicle. I didn't have to wait long for the boys to show up, hearing them stomping their way through the forest floor to the left of the ambulance. "What the hell is Lydia doing?" Stiles asked, clearly disgusted as I silently approached them from behind.

"I have no idea," Scott replied, glancing at me over his shoulder, the only one of the pair able to hear me approach.

"Took you boys long enough," I said offhandedly, for the second time in two days, crossing my arms and leaning against a tree beside me.

Stiles jumped violently, yelping loudly and spinning around, hand pressed to his heart. "Well not all of us can run at the speed of light," he replied scathingly, once he'd regained control of his vocal chords.

I frowned, wondering if he was serious. "I don't run at the speed of-"

"Maybe we could focus on the task at hand?" Scott interjected exasperatedly, moving our attention back to the conversation.

"Right," Stiles said, nodding to himself and looking back at the bloody vehicle. "So what kept you from doing that? Was it Allison?" he asked, squinting at the body laying in the back.

"I hope so."

"Do you need get closer?"

"No, I got it," Scott told him after a beat, shifting back to try and catch the scent.

"Just..." Stiles began, grabbing his best friend's arm, stopping him from moving any further. "I just need you to find her," he said seriously, focus on the wolf as I watched on with only a vague interest. "Alright? Please just-just find her."

"I will," Scott vowed. He slid to his feet, turning to look at me intently, clearly awaiting my input.

"The scent leads west," I told him, though I was sure he already knew. "It doesn't smell right though, so be careful."

"You're not coming?" he asked with a frown.

"Natural instinct to a werewolf is to run away from a vampire. The last thing we want is her getting spooked. I'll wait here in case she comes back."

"Right," he nodded, seeing sense in my argument. He looked back at his friend, patting his shoulder reassuringly before taking a sharp left and disappearing into the shadows.

"Did you get a look at what she did to the body?" Stiles asked me after a moment.

"No," I said with a shrug. "Didn't think it was important." He shot me an exasperated look, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I grumbled, forcing myself to sound more irritated than I felt. I reached out and grabbed his hand, using it to pull him along. A tense croak left his lips, but I ignored it, dragging him through the trees towards the flashing lights of the ambulance. "Keep a look out," I hissed to him, letting go of his hand when we pulled up beside the broken doors. I glanced around the side of the vehicle where three officers and two paramedics stood talking in low tones.

I grabbed the handle, pulling myself up into the back of the ambulance with ease. The smell of the blood hit me like a truck and I grit my teeth to counter the urge to let my fangs slide free. I stepped closer to the pale body laying on the gurney, picking up the sheet covering its wounds and sliding it across so I could see everything. "Quickly," Stiles hissed from behind me as I stared stonily at the scene before me. "What?" he asked when I didn't respond, sounding closer than before. "What is it?"

"Don't look, Stiles," I told him, peering at the torn open flesh and exposed insides.

"Why not?" he questioned, his pout audible in his voice.

"Uh, so you ever get another hour of sleep in your life?" I said sarcastically, assessing it one final time before letting the sheet drop, covering the gruesome mess. I spun around, stepping off the edge of the back of the vehicle, dropping gently to the dirt road.

"So, what'd it tell you?" Stiles asked eagerly, keeping his voice low.

"Whoever did this was desperate, and not at all experienced."

"So it was Lydia?"

"Well-" I was cut off by a pair of high beam headlights shining in our faces, the sound of an engine cutting off, a door opening, and footsteps on the gravel making their way to us. Dread spread across Stiles' face before the Sheriff was even by our side, but he quickly schooled his features, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Dad," he said brightly, patting his father on the shoulder. "What a coincidence; seeing you here."

"Stiles," he replied carefully, stern glare sliding from him to me. "Juliet."

"Evening Sheriff," I greeted him with a respectful nod.

"Do I want to know what the hell either of you are doing here?" he asked with a deep frown.

I pursed my lips and glanced to Stiles, who looked back at me, desperation clearly painted across his features. I widened my eyes and shrugged my shoulders minutely, conveying that I had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say. He blinked twice, then turned back to face his father. "We were making out."

I frowned, cocking my head to the side and watching him carefully, wondering exactly what the hell he thought he was doing.

"Yeah," he nodded to himself, overflowing with false confidence. "Yeah, we were making out in the woods and we heard the sirens and we-"

"Stiles," his dad deadpanned, levelling the boy with a serious look. "Don't expect me to believe you were doing that with her."

"I could," he cried indignantly, frowning up at him. My lips pursed, wondering if that was a dig at his son or me.

"Look, the fact of the matter is you've shown up at a crime scene, again. Think about how that looks."

I edged further away from the small family, crossing my arms as though I was cold and looking away awkwardly. They continued to talk in hushed tones, the Sheriff saying something about being elected to his job and not wanting his son to jeopardise that. The wind hit my face, bringing with it the sour smell I'd come to associate with my least favourite red head.

I spun around, narrowing my eyes as I looked through the dark. I quickly caught sight of the figure in the bushes, shivering as she halfheartedly covered her exposed chest.

"Gentlemen?" I said loudly, catching the officer and his son's attention.

The muttering behind me died off, and Stiles' heart rate went off the charts as he spotted his long time obsession now standing in the glow of the headlights, his chin practically on the ground.

"Well?" Lydia asked loudly, throwing her arms up in something like annoyance, only serving to further expose her body to the gathered crowd. "Isn't anybody going to get me a coat?"

I glanced over my shoulder as Stiles tripped over himself in his eagerness to help the dirt-covered naked girl. The Sheriff rolled his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to me, gesturing for me to approach her. I couldn't be bothered arguing, something telling me it would be insensitive to do so; she was a naked girl surrounded by men, I was supposed to be sympathetic.

I took the item of clothing, walking at a human pace over to the girl, standing in front of her, blocking a still gaping Stiles' view.

"Are you okay?" I asked tonelessly, more of a formality than anything. She was shaking like a leaf, tears in her eyes as she responded with a shake of the head. I held out the coat for her, and she slipped her trembling arms into the sleeves, letting me pull it up over her shoulders. She stepped back and attempted to zip it up, but found she couldn't make her shaking hands cooperate.

I held back an irritated sigh, stepping closer and hooking the zip into place for her, dragging it up so it covered her chest. She sagged, probably weary from all the running through the woods. I didn't want her to fall on her face or anything, so I grabbed her arm gently, thankful she couldn't feel the temperature through the material of the thick officer jacket.

The paramedics from the attacked ambulance were there to help, pulling out their equipment and setting to work checking her vitals and whatnot.

I let her go, moving back beside Stiles, who was staring at the girl with a worried look on his face.

"Is she..." he began, stopping before he could finish. "I mean, does she smell like...?"

"I don't think she turned," I said, getting the gist of what he was trying to say. "She smells the same as she did before, and I can't sense the wolf in her like I can others."

"But you either turn or you die," he responded confusedly in a hushed whisper. "How could she not have done either?"

"I don't know," I answered with a frown. "But I'm sure as hell going to find out."