You know I know,

Yes, I've been told I redefine a sin.

I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head.

Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!

Going To Hell – The Pretty Reckless


"Well done Juliet!" Coach boomed unnecessarily loudly as I let go of the wall, allowing myself to float to the ground. "Greenberg, hurry up!" he snapped once my feet were flat on the floor, glancing up at the kid who had only managed to make it halfway up the wall in the time it'd taken me to finish.

I unhooked the harness, stepping out of it and handing it off to Allison who took it with a small smile. I stepped back into the crowd, moving until I stood beside the one kid I could actually stand. "We've talked about this," Stiles murmured from the corner of his lips. "No using your enhanced abilities to make us humans look bad."

"Please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my old Stones shirt. "It was only Greenberg."

He opened his mouth to argue, but paused, not able to come up with anything substantial. "You have a point," he finally replied, clicking his tongue and watching as the guy finally made it to the ground, standing on shaky legs as he handed his harness off to Scott. "Scallison."

My brow lifted, and I looked away from the ascending teens to fix him with a confused look.

"Their ship name," he said like it was obvious. "Scallison."

"That's not a real word," I deadpanned.

"Wha-I know," he huffed, rolling his eyes at me. "It's a combination of their names; their ship name."

"Ship?"

He sighed as though I were sucking the life from his body, which if he wasn't careful, I just might very well do. "As in – relationship," he told me slowly, like he was talking to a child. "It means you want them to be together, sort of."

"But why make up words?"

"That's just what people do these days," he responded, turning to look at me with a smirk on his pale lips. "Which I guess you wouldn't know since you're about a thousand years old."

I curled my lip at him in annoyance at his quip, but he wasn't put off by it, merely grinning back at me toothily. There was a yelp from in front of us, and both of our gazes snapped to stare at the wall as Scott fell to the ground, his harness catching him only a foot above the ground. I sniggered, watching as Coach murmured to him before calling on Stiles and some blonde girl with a skin problem named Erica.

I patted Stiles on the shoulder as he moved forward, a silent encouragement.

He'd made it to the top and back to the ground again before Erica was even five feet off the ground, frozen in fear and shaking like a leaf. I frowned as I listened to her heart pound in her chest as she glanced at the ground, sobbing loudly with terror.

"Erica?" Coach asked worriedly as everyone crowded into the space beneath the girl. "Are you dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

"Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear," Lydia Martin spoke up, glancing at the teacher with distaste. "She's just freaking out." I raised an eyebrow at the remarkably intelligent response but quickly moved past it, not in the mood to ponder the inner workings of the queen bee.

Coach shot her a similar look, but he too had more important things to worry about. "Erica!"

"I'm fine," she insisted shakily, and not one of the people on the ground believed her.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe. You know she's epileptic," Allison spoke up from behind him.

"Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff? Erica, you're fine. Just kick off from the wall, there's a mat to catch you."

With only a bit more coaxing the girl pushed off from the wall, floating gently to the ground. She turned around and made a beeline for the door, head ducking in embarrassment as laughter tittered through the crowd.

"Man, that must have been terrible," Stiles muttered under his breath once he made it to my side.

"Hm," I hummed distractedly, my mind already on my plans for the night. "See you at lunch," I told him, turning around and following the line of girls heading for the woman's locker room.

I didn't bother with a shower, merely pulling my leather pants back on and slipping my feet into my old combat boots, painting on a coat of lipstick in the mirror before turning around and heading back the way I'd come in.


"I'll pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink. Cool?"

"What's at the rink?" I asked innocently, and Stiles jumped violently, wheeling around to stare at me with wide eyes. I was perched on the chair beside him, one leg crossed over the other as I waited for an answer.

His mouth opened as he went to reply, but no sound came out. I raised an eyebrow at him but it didn't seem to help matters, he just continued to splutter incoherently. I rolled my eyes as him before looking to Scott for a reply. "Double date," he explained with a smile.

"Ooh," I teased, leaning forwards and resting my chin in my palm. "Who're the lucky ladies?"

"Allison and Lydia," he told me, a dopey grin on his face as he said his lover's name.

"We'd invite you but..."

"You don't want a 'thousand year old' vampire cramping your style?" I asked, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes, making him wince as I threw his previous words back at him.

He was saved from having to formulate a reply thanks to his best friend. "How old are you, anyway?" the puppy asked curiously.

I raised my eyebrows at him, glancing at Stiles whose cheeks were marred with red blotches. That could only mean that the kid hadn't gone running back to his friend and telling him everything I divulged. I'd been operating under the assumption that everything I told him got back to Scott eventually, but apparently that wasn't the case. Why the hell not?

"I'm 203," I admitted after a lengthy paused.

"Wow," the tan kid huffed, blinking at me like he was seeing a whole new person. "Does that mean you lived through the Civil War?"

I frowned, "That is how math works, yes."

"Then can you help me write my history paper?"

I wanted to say no, but the wolf pulled out his puppy-dog eyes, pleading me to say yes. I glanced at Stiles, hoping for help, but the kid just sent me his own pleading look, making me huff. I could have said no if I'd wanted to, but helping them with their homework was something friends did, and if I was really going to be normal, then there were some sacrifices I had to make.

"Yeah," I grumbled, sliding further down in my chair and avoiding their gazes.

Scott chuckled, but before he could get anything else out he cut himself off with a gasp. I looked up, frowning confusedly at the boy whose eyes were glued to the entrance to the cafeteria. I glanced at Stiles who looked over at me in the same second before we both turned around to see what he was looking at.

"What the holy hell is that?"

It was a fair enough question from Lydia. A girl I identified as Erica by scent swaggered into the room, her leopard print heels clicking against the ground as she moved, hips swaying as she made her way over to a table in the centre of the room. By then all eyes were on her, and she smirked as she stole an apple off a trembling boy's plate, taking a saucy bite before moving across the room.

"It's Erica," Scott answered, blinking at the sight before him.

She took another bite of the apple, turning on her heel and sashaying from the room.

Scott shot to his feet, scooping his backpack up and darting from the room, Stiles tripping over himself in his haste to follow. I rolled my eyes, slipping my bag over my shoulder and walking to keep up with them. Erica clearly had some form of speed, from the bite she'd no doubt received from Derek. I shoved open the door, the boys tumbling out behind me as we watched Erica slide into a familiar black Camaro.

From the driver's seat Derek turned around, Ray Bans in place as he grinned wolfishly at the three of us. I scowled unhappily, raising a single finger in the air at him. He didn't respond, just continued to beam smugly at us before stepping on the gas, peeling out of the school parking lot.

"First Isaac and now Erica?" Scott exclaimed, hands flying up to rake themselves through his hair. "When will it end?"

"How big do alphas usually make their packs?" Stiles asked me, arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at the trail of dust the car left behind.

I shrugged, expression melting into a glare as they shot me irritated looks. "I'm a vampire," I reminded them grouchily. "I haven't exactly spent my free time hanging out with werewolves – at least not until recently – why the hell would I know about their pack habits?" It was silent, and I felt something annoying in my gut, telling me to tell them what little more I knew. "But I have heard that an alpha needs at least three betas to be at the top of their game, so I'd expect at least one more in the near future."

Scott looked stressed, my reply not making him feel any better.

"Look," I continued with a sigh. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Just finish the school day, go to work, then go on your magical double date."

"And then what?" he asked glumly.

"Then in the morning we can figure everything out; put our heads together and come up with a strategy."

Scott looked like he wanted to protest, but Stiles clapped him reassuringly on the back. "She's right, man," he said, and I smiled at him gently before wiping away the expression before Scott could see. "Let's just focus on getting through the day, then we get to spend the evening with our ladies."

I snorted, making the buzz-cut teen look at me with raised eyebrows. "Lydia isn't your lady by any stretch of the imagination," I told him bitingly.

"She could be," he snapped back, affronted.

I rolled my eyes just as the bell rang, nudging Scott when I noticed the teen wolf wasn't breathing. "Breathe, Scott," I instructed, watching as he took a heavy breath. "Just get to class."

The boys nodded and turned to move into the school, pausing when they realised I wasn't following. "What about you?" Stiles asked with a frown.

"Free period," I lied easily. He looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him the chance. "I'll see you later, Stiles. Have a good time tonight," I said sincerely, cringing when Scott shot me a confused look. "Or don't. Whatever," I muttered cooly, spinning on my heel and making my way down the steps of the school, not for a second allowing myself to glance back.

The walk to the old underground station in the middle of town took a while. I could have run it, but I wasn't in the mood.

When Derek had told me where he was staying the night after the showdown with Peter, I hadn't thought much of it. He'd only told me in case of an emergency, and anyway, as if there would be any reason for me to go see him. Ever.

As it turned out, there were a number of reasons.

At the top of the list was, however odd, Isaac Lahey.

The kid had grown on me in the few hours we'd spent together, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't about to throw his life away to be on team Derek. I had to at least offer him another option, make sure he knew he wasn't limited to what was displayed in front of him.

Thankfully Derek wasn't there when I arrived, still out with Erica no doubt.

"Juliet?" Isaac asked confusedly as I descended the stairs, frowning in disgust at the less than comfortable living arrangements. His heart began to pound in his chest, though not enough to set off the change. He was just nervous, and I had a feeling I knew why.

"So Derek told you my dirty little secret, huh?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He swallowed but nodded anyway, crouching into a fighting stance before he'd even realised he was doing it, just as a precaution.

"Are you afraid of me?" I tilted my head, my lips tipping up at the corners. It'd felt like decades since I'd last terrified someone, I didn't want to get rusty. He didn't reply, hands balling into fists at his sides, taking a step forwards as though to prove he wasn't, his foot resting on a discarded coke can, the biting crunch vibrating through the air. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Isaac," I said conversationally, "I just want to talk."

"About what?" he asked, perfect jaw clicking.

"About your options."

He looked hesitant, like he didn't really understand what I was saying.

"What has Derek told you?" I asked gently, trying a different tactic.

"Everything," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "Hunters, full moons, you, giant lizard creatures. I know all of it."

"Hm," I hummed contemplatively, eyes narrowing at him.

"And I'm not afraid of you," he said, recalling my previous statement, and I generously pretended I couldn't hear the terrified stutter of his heart. Nonetheless a bright smirk appeared across his pale lips and he crossed his arms, straightening his shoulders confidently, chin tilting upwards.

I could see in his eyes that he wasn't going to be open to anything I had to say, and I had to think to myself: why did this fall onto my shoulders? Why was it my responsibility to take care of the situation these pups were in?

"So you've been around since forever, then?" he asked.

I ignored his terrible grammar and rolled my eyes, peering down at my blue painted nails, examining them for cracks. "I'm older than you'll ever live to be," I answered bluntly, wondering exactly where he was going with this.

"Do you know what killed my father?"

I met his baby blue eyes, raising an eyebrow at the question. "No," I told him truthfully. "But I'm going to find out."


I looked up from the book in my hands when footsteps on the pavement of my driveway caught my attention. I slid a bookmark into place and pushed myself off the couch and onto my feet. I got to the door the same time as my visitor. Opening the door before they could knock, I raised an eyebrow at a sightly sheepish looking Stiles. "Hello," I greeted him gently, cocking my head curiously, eyes flickering to the Jeep parked on the curb behind him, Scott sitting in the front seat, face lit up by his phone. I glanced up at the sky, wondering when it had gotten dark.

"Hey," Stiles responded lamely, and I focused back on him, watching curiously as he absent-mindedly scratched at his temple. "Uh, so something happened at the rink, and we thought we should tell you about, since maybe you might be able to make more sense of it than we could."

I opened the door wider, stepping back to give him room to come through. He smiled thankfully, spinning around and sticking two fingers in his mouth, letting out a piercing whistle that immediately got his werewolf friend's attention.

It must have been some kind of signal, because Scott instantly climbed out of the Jeep, jogging across the grass of my lawn until he was at Stiles' side, a small smile on his lips. "Hey Jules," he said politely.

"Scott," I greeted him, watching as he waited for Stiles to make the first move, stepping over the threshold and into my house. I shut the door quietly behind them, turning on the lights as I went. Stiles led the way through to the kitchen, immediately opening the cupboard and pulling out a pack of Oreos, ripping open the cardboard packaging and stuffing one into his mouth, holding it out to Scott. The wolf hesitated, apparently thrown that Stiles hadn't asked or anything first, but I smiled and nodded for him to go for it. "So what happened that was so important it warranted a visit into the lion's den?" I asked them as they took seats at the bench, facing me where I leant back against the sink.

"So we were skating, having a great time, I mean Lydia was holding my hand – I mean, sure, it wasn't exactly for romantic reasons, but there was still contact-" Stiles cut himself off when he caught sight of my flat expression, wincing to himself. "Uh, I'm getting off topic. Anyway, everything was fine, then suddenly Lydia was on the ground, screaming at nothing on the ice." He frowned as he chewed thoughtfully on a cookie. "She sounded terrified."

"And you want me to tell you why," I finished, and Scott nodded, dipping his hand into the box for another Oreo. "If I'm being honest," I began with a sigh, "I have no idea." The boys deflated, obviously disappointed I couldn't tell them more. "It probably has something to do with the reason she didn't turn or die from the bite," I offered.

"So no theories?"

I decided to lie. I didn't want to go around accusing the annoying girl of being a succubus or a banshee or a kitsune. No, it was better if I kept my theories to myself until I had something more concrete. "No theories."

The boys sighed defeatedly, simultaneously shoving another Oreo in their respective mouths.


"Do you wanna try making out for a second? Just to see how it feels?"

"What did I just walk into?" I asked lowly, making Stiles whip around to stare at me with wide eyes. Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his friend gently in the side. "Is there something I should know?" I tried again, this time a small teasing smirk finding its way onto my red lips.

"Ha, ha," Stiles laughed sardonically, only making my smirk widen. "Listen," he said, becoming serious suddenly. "Have you seen Boyd?"

"Who the fuck is Boyd?"

He sent me a flat look, unimpressed by my response.

"He's a student here. We think he's going to be Derek's third beta," Scott interjected before I could snap a response. "I'm going to go check out the ice rink and Stiles is going to his house."

"I'll tag along with Jimmy Olsen over here," I said flippantly, gesturing to Stiles over my shoulder.

The kid nodded before my thinly veiled insult sunk in. He blanched, wheeling around to fix me with an incredulous look. "Jimmy Olsen?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "As in Clark Kent's human and entirely unextraordinary friend?"

"That'd be the one," I chirped with a goading smirk.

"How do you even know who he is, I thought you rejected all things modern."

"Modern? Superman's been around since the 30's. And I do not reject all things modern!"

"Is that so?"

"I talk to you, don't I?"

Scott had had enough of our banter. "Enough," he snapped, though not unkindly, each hand coming to press into our respective shoulders. "We're wasting time," he said more gently. "We need to find Boyd, and we need to do it as soon as possible."

"He's right," Stiles said then, almost as an afterthought, reached down and grabbed my hand, using it to tug me down the hall in the direction of the main exit. "Call when you find something!" he yelled back over his shoulder, making a passing elderly teacher scowl in disapproval.

We burst out into the daylight, and Stiles pulled me over to his Jeep immediately, letting go of my skin to scramble for his keys. We slid into the car and Stiles peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of rubber on asphalt. "What are we going to do?" I asked after a pause as I watched him concentrate on driving from the corner of my eye. "If we find him in time," I clarified when he didn't answer. "What can we possibly say to convince him he doesn't want to be a werewolf?"

Stiles clicked his tongue, pondering my words.

"I mean, he's kind of a loner, right?" I continued, absently toying with the daylight ring on my middle finger. "Something tells me he could use super senses and advanced strength as much as the next pathetic kid."

He was quiet still, I could tell he was considering my words. "If you had the chance to do it all over again," he began softly, the sound contradicting to the way he frantically flew across the road in a rush to get to Boyd's house. For a moment I was concerned. If we were in a crash, I'd walk away without a scratch. The kid, however? Who knew what kind of damage he could inflict on himself. I kept my mouth shut despite my worries. Stiles was usually a safe driver, I'd seen it. So I wouldn't bring it up unless the recklessness became something of a habit. "Would you?" he asked, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. "Would you still become a vampire?"

Now it was I who was quiet. I wondered what to tell him; what he wanted to hear, or the truth.

"It wasn't exactly my choice in the first place," I finally said, staring out the window, pushing images of soulless, clear blue eyes. Stiles' heart stuttered loudly and my gaze snapped to him in alarm. His fists were curled so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles had turned white and his features had rearranged into a furious glare.

I wasn't sure what was wrong.

Perhaps admitting I hadn't chosen this life had reminded him of his brother found in Scott, and I felt bad for opening up healing wounds. I tentatively reached out until my fingers brushed the fabric of the sleeve of the red jumper he was wearing. "Sorry," I muttered with a self-loathing frown.

"Don't apologise," he said darkly, engine revving angrily below him. He was quiet for a long minute, but I left him to his thoughts, my hand on his arm staying in place so he knew I was there. "What was their name?"

I tilted my head, increasing the pressure of my hold on him, conveying my confusion. "Whose name?"

"The person who turned you," he elaborated. "What was their name?"

I hesitated. It wasn't a name that was meant to be uttered aloud, at least, not without consequences. "It doesn't matter," I told him, hand slipping from his bicep and moving so my arms were folded across my chest.

"Of course it matters," he spluttered, but was prevented from saying anymore when he pulled up outside an old, taken care of, one-storey house. Stiles frowned. "This conversation isn't over," he told me seriously, heart slamming away in his chest as he slid from the car, all but sprinting to the front door of the modest home.

I sighed, rubbing my temples like it was possible to get a headache (when a witch wasn't involved, anyway). I cracked open the door, stepping out and disappearing from view, reappearing by Stiles' side.

"Boyd?" Stiles shouted, banging at the door anxiously. "Hey Boyd, it's Stiles." The kid ran his palms over his short hair, spinning around to pin me with a desperate look. "Isn't there something you could do?"

"Even if I was in the mood for breaking and entering," I said, leaning against the rough bricks and tilting my head at him. "It's not like I could get inside without an invitation. Besides, I can't hear a heartbeat anywhere in the house. It's empty."

"Come on," he begged, apparently not happy with my response. "We have to be sure. Besides, maybe we'll find a clue or something that can tell us where he is."

I considered him for a beat, taking in the wide, sad, chocolate puppy dog eyes and the blotchy red skin that shouldn't have been as attractive as it was. With a defeated huff I slipped the bobby pin that was holding my bangs from my face out of my hair, dropping to my knees in front of the door.

"Are you seriously picking the lock?" he asked, and I could hear the raised eyebrow in his tone.

I tossed a frustrated scowl over my shoulder at him. "Would you rather I did nothing?"

He tossed his hands up, taking a step back as though giving me room to work, "Carry on."

It was quiet for a few moments before suddenly the sound of footsteps hitting the soft grass of the yard behind me met my ears, and a small sniff confirmed that it was indeed a bitch, in the most literal sense. "We have company," I grunted, tipping my heads forwards until my forehead tapped against the metal grate over the door.

"What-ahh!" Stiles yelped as he spun around, startling at the sight of Erica standing directly in front of him.

She giggled, eyes glued to the kid, not for a moment flicking down to glance at me. "What are you doing here Stiles?" the blonde asked sweetly.

"Noth-I-uh," Stiles stammered, swallowing loudly. I sighed, slipping the bobby pin into my pocket and sliding to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and staring impassively at the beta. "I'm just looking for...uh..."

"Boyd?" she supplied.

"Yeah. Yes. Boyd."

"You know what you're doing right now that's kind of funny?" Stiles shook his head. "You're only looking in my eyes."

"...That's funny?"

"Yeah," she grinned wolfishly. "Because it's that kinda look, that you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes. But you want to, don't you? You want a nice long, hard, look."

Before I'd even really registered the anger I suddenly felt, I noticed the slight sting as my own nails dug into the flesh of my palms. I stopped before I could draw blood, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to relax the tense expression I knew had come over my face.

"Not really, no," Stiles muttered stiltedly.

"Oh, so it's just my eyes?"

"Yes. You have beautiful eyes."

"I have beautiful everything."

"New found self confidence," Stiles smiled unconvincingly. "Congratulations Erica. I should get going."

He moved to step around her, but before he could take so much as a step her hand smacked out and shoved him back several paces. "You're not going anywhere," she growled, and fury crashed through me like a tidal wave.

"Why not?"

She held up what was unmistakably a piece of engine from the Jeep, a triumphant smirk on her glossy lips. "You're having car trouble," she replied simply, rearing back her hand, preparing to smack it into Stiles' face.

I, of course, was having none of that.

I caught the hand with ease, stopping it inches from his skin and using her own momentum to shove her backwards. The metal object slipped from her hand as she sailed backwards, ending up sprawled across the grass, blinking dazedly at the sky.

I smirked, stepping around the kid and rolling my neck in preparation. I knew this wouldn't be hard. She was new, barely a couple of days old, and therefore painfully easy to beat. "Jules," Stiles said from behind me, but I paid him no mind.

A cruel, indulgent, cheshire cat grin spread across my lips as I strolled down the few steps leading to the yard, floating over to Erica, who glared up at me. I tilted my head innocently, blinking at her with wide, excited eyes. "This is going to be fun," I beamed, something akin to joy filling me as I practically ached to get my fingers under her flesh and elicit agonised screams from her pretty little mouth.

"Jules," Stiles repeated, rushing forwards to wrap his hands around my upper arms, spinning me around to face him. "Stop," he said, meeting my gaze with a serious stare of his own. It was like I was suddenly swept up in his eyes, unable to help myself from staring back. I could feel the heat of his hands through the sheer sleeves of my top, and it felt like he was boiling my blood from the inside.

If my heart could beat, it would have been racing.

I heard Erica scramble to her feet behind me, her shoes clicking against the ground as she fled, and I flinched, preparing to spin around and stop her. "Jules," Stiles said again, a small calming smile on his pale lips. "Come on, I'm fine, you're fine, everyone's fine. Now put those fangs away."

I hadn't even realised they'd slipped out. I blinked at him, finally taking my eyes from his, only for them to drift over his freckles.

"What's going on with you?"

It was a fair enough question, one that actually had a simple answer.

I didn't like people touching what was mine.

But that response posed the question: since when was Stiles Stilinski mine? I took a deep breath, stopping myself from thinking too intently on that one. Instead I focused on my senses to bring me back from the boiling and confusing rage I'd felt.

I sniffed, taking in the scent on mint and chocolate that always clung to Stiles, as well as the fresh earth from Boyd's yard. I could hear birds chirping in a tree to my right, and bees buzzing in the garden. I traced constellations in Stiles' freckles. I could feel his hands on me still, and I focused on their warmth.

Stiles was my best friend; of course I was protective of him.

His hands clenched tighter around my arms, and I blinked again, noticing the frown on his face.

"Sorry," I apologised immediately, already regretting what I didn't know I'd done wrong.

"What?" he said with a raised brow. "No, I was just thinking..." he trailed off, glancing down at where his fingers were curled around my upper arms. Those adorable red blotches appeared on his cheeks and he cleared his throat, pulling his hands away like I'd burned him. I raised an eyebrow impassively, and he tugged at his collar awkwardly. "Why would Erica run?" he continued, clearly eager to keep the subject off of him. "Unless she had somewhere to be..."

"The ice rink," I finished with a nod, spinning around and taking no more than three steps before realising the flaw in my plan. "How are you going to get home?" I asked Stiles worriedly.

"I'll be fine," he huffed with a casual eye roll. "Hurry up and go," he urged, making a shooing motion with his hands.

I shot him an uneasy smile, turning around and disappearing from sight.


Getting to the ice rink wasn't a problem. It took slightly longer than it should have, since I had no idea where the hell it was. Once I'd asked for directions, feeling awkward and not even slightly heroic, I arrived at the looming building. The front door was unlocked, which I thought may have been almost too convenient.

Either way, I slipped into the chilled entrance silently, my feet making no sound as I padded across the carpet, passed the ticket office and into the rink. The sounds of fighting met my ears; fist hitting flesh, wolves growling. I moved soundlessly through the room, pausing at the entry to the ice rink.

Everyone was too distracted by the fight to notice me, even with their heightened senses; though half the group were unconscious, sprawled pathetically across the ice. Derek was kicking Scott's ass, and I knew I couldn't let him continue. I'd only known Derek for a few months, who knew if he was capable of murdering one of his own?

It wasn't easy to sprint across the ice, but I managed to prevent falling on my face, keeping my footsteps light, barely hitting the ground. Derek still heard me coming and he spun around, arm held back, prepared to slam into my nose.

I ducked the attack with ease, crouching down in front of a dazed Scott, my position defensive as I let out a furious, protective snarl. The alpha's eyes glowed ruby red as he bared his teeth at me. I copied the action, flashing him my own fangs as blood flooded the whites of my eyes, the irises turning an inky black.

Nothing was said, but we both attacked at the same moment, surging forwards. I was surprised when he didn't immediately go in for a bite, and it occurred to me that he wasn't intending to kill me, or anyone for the matter. But I knew I still had to make a point.

Scott was my friend, and nobody hurt my friends.

He swiped at me, fingers curled so his claws were extended. I dodged it, swinging under his arm and landing a kick to his side. He grunted and spun around to hit me but I'd already moved, landing a punch to his throat.

I hadn't been able to fight Peter like this because he was the worst kind of alpha: one who fully shifted into a giant, mutated wolf. Luckily for me, Derek was just a regular werewolf, one who stayed half shifted, making him much easier to take in a fight.

He managed to slam his hand into my gut as I at the same time jammed my fist into his jaw. It clicked and I caught a wince before he covered the expression, a hardened glare taking over. He punched me in the stomach again, this time it hurt. I growled, darting out of the way of his next hit.

I realised it was an exceptionally even fight. He was a whole lot stronger, but I was a hell of a lot faster. I wondered why he didn't just bite me, but I didn't have time to think about it too much as I flipped out of the way of another blow.

Suddenly we stopped, as though there'd been some kind of signal.

It was silent as we stared at each other, but neither of us made a move. Finally his eyes stopped glowing and he began to walk backwards, refusing to turn his back on me.

Smart boy.

The kid who I figured must have been Boyd jumped down from where I'd barely noticed him on the ice machine, and as he walked past me I caught a whiff of blood with a faint trace of dog.

"Don't," Scott grunted, not knowing it was too late. "You don't want to be like them."

"You're right," he replied, pausing beside us. He lifted his jacket, revealing the bloodied bite mark on his side. "I wanna be like you."

I let them leave, waiting until I heard their footsteps disappear before appearing at Scott's side, crouching down next to the teen, my hands held awkwardly above his chest, not sure what to do with them.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, deciding to gently prod his cheek. He hissed in pain and I drew back, regretting the decision.

"We need to get somewhere safe," he murmured, struggling to push himself up onto his elbows. I didn't think he should move, but I moved down to help him up anyway, I doubted he'd listen to my advice. I wrapped an arm around his waist, using my enhanced strength to lift him up and drag him across the ice.

"So where to?" I asked, taking care not to slip.

"The animal clinic," he replied. "There's someone I need to see."