What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down
What's going on in that beautiful mind
I'm on your magical mystery ride
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright
All of Me – John Legend
I took a drag of the chemicals from my cigarette, holding it in my lungs for a long moment before blowing it out in perfect smoke rings. With my free hand I pulled my dated cell phone from my back pocket, turning it on and scrolling through my limited number of contacts until I found Stiles' name.
"Hey," the kid answered, and I heard the sound of machinery in the background.
"Hey," I responded, flicking the ash from the tip of my smoke. "Where are you? Did you make it home?"
"I got towed to the nearest garage," he told me, sounding tired. "I'm still here, the jackass in there is totally screwing me over," he paused, "is it still screwing me over if I know it's happening?"
"He's over charging you?" I asked with a frown. I only got a frustrated sigh in response. "Want me to come compel the price down?" I offered, nodding politely to an older businessman walking into the station I was stood outside of to pay for his gas.
"Would you?" he replied hopefully, and I couldn't help the twitch of my lips.
"Where are you?"
"The garage on the corner of Elizabeth and Burke."
"I'll be there soon," I told him, and he muttered his thanks a moment before I hung up. I took my time finishing off my cigarette, glancing up at the sky, annoyed that I couldn't see any stars thanks to the harsh fluorescent lights of the station.
I wandered into the building, purchasing a new pack of smokes since I'd just had my last one. The hell with it, I thought as I lit up another one, walking through the back streets until I got to the address Stiles had given me. I took my time, strolling along the footpath as I got closer to my destination, puffing on my smoke.
I hadn't been expecting a parade of officers and paramedics stationed outside of the garage, and when I caught sight of two men wheeling a covered corpse out on a gurney, my unbeating heart dropped into my stomach. Being what I was, I couldn't feel the cold, but I could have sworn I felt ice cold terror trickle through my veins. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes began to burn.
"Stiles?" I said, my voice coming out as barely more than a choked whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Stiles?!" I yelled, desperation colouring my tone. People turned to look at me, but I shoved through the small gathered crowd and passed the policeman guarding the barricade, ignoring his indignant cries. "Stiles?!"
"Jules?"
I spun around, eyes searching wildly until my green irises locked with his brown ones. Relief flooded me so strongly that I had to bite my tongue to stop the stinging in my eyes.
Uncaring that I could have exposed myself, I rushed forwards at my top speed, all but slamming into the kid where he stood with his father beside the back of an open ambulance. I breathed in his minty/coco-y scent, burrowing my face in his collarbone and throwing my arms around his neck. His heart stuttered in his chest and his arms came up to wrap around my waist, squeezing me tightly. "I thought..." I trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.
"I'm fine," he assured me quietly, chin resting on the crown of my head.
I didn't let go, staying exactly where I was, not wanting to leave his side for even a second. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, breathing in his scent once again. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the dull ache in the back of my throat, but I was easily able to ignore the hunger; my relief at seeing him safe overshadowing my need for blood.
Finally, after an eternity that was far too short, I pulled back, my hands slipping up to cup the warm back of his neck, my eyes assessing him carefully, looking for any hint of damage.
"What the hell happened?" I asked softly once I was sure he was unharmed, meeting his chocolate gaze.
He opened his mouth to reply, then turned to look at his father, who was watching us with curious eyes. I awkwardly let go of my hold on his son, the kid's hands slipping from their place at my waist. Stiles cleared his throat, looking at his dad pointedly. "Can I go now, please?"
"Sure," his father nodded, crossing his arms. "But not your Jeep. I'm gonna have to impound it." Stiles protested, but the sheriff was having none of it. "Sorry kid, evidence." He looked up at me, smiling politely, "Nice seeing you Juliet, make sure he gets home safe?" Stiles didn't look happy with his words, but I felt a warm glow at them, nodding happily. "See you at home," he nodded to his son, turning to head back to the building.
"Right, well at least make sure they wash it," Stiles called after him loudly.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his short hair. I grabbed his arm gently, moving him out of the rain and under the cover of an overhang, away from curious ears. "So what happened?"
"It was the lizard thing," he replied quietly.
My eyes widened and I stared at him worriedly. "And it left you alive?" I asked, looking over him once again, just to be sure nothing was broken.
"Clearly."
I shot him an unimpressed glare, but he merely rolled his eyes back at me. "Details," I commanded darkly, crossing my arms and clicking my jaw.
He sighed but complied, running me through what had happened, telling me how he'd been drugged or something, temporarily rendering him paralysed, forcing him to watch as the car crushed the mechanic. I reached out a touched his arm when his eyes dropped to the floor, obviously reliving the experience. I was reminded then of how very young and innocent he was, so very pure, untouched by the horrors of the world.
He looked back up at me gratefully, other hand lifting to cover mine, squeezing gently before we both let go. "Do you need me to walk you home?" I asked, frowning as I suddenly wished I had a car. Perhaps I should have invested in one?
"I called Scott," he told me. "He's picking me up in his mom's car." He paused, tucking his hands into his pocket, glancing out into the light rain. "You could come with me," he suggested with forced casualness.
I tilted my head, confused. Then I understood.
He didn't want to be alone tonight. It made sense, I supposed. He had just seen a man get killed by a giant lizard. If I were human, perhaps I too wouldn't want to go home to a dark house. "Why don't you come to my house?" I said, my hands twisting in front of me. "We could make pancakes for dinner and I could show you those old photos of me from the past few centuries?"
He hesitated, and I was considering taking back the offer before he spoke, "That'd actually be great." I smiled, inexplicably relieved. Before I could say anything else, he nodded to the road, where a black car had just pulled up, a familiar teen wolf sitting in the driver's seat. "Here he is."
I ducked out into the rain, keeping my head down as I strode towards the car. I let Stiles slip into the front seat, moving into the back, smiling politely through the darkness at Scott.
"You okay?" the boy asked his friend, apparently already filled in on the night's events.
"You were right," Stiles replied, pulling his hoodie tighter around him and frowning out the window. "He's not like you. His eyes were almost like, reptilian. There was something about him..."
"What do you mean?" Scott questioned, shifting in the chair to look at him.
"You know like when you see a friend in a halloween mask, but all you can actually see are their eyes, and you feel like you know them, but you can't figure out who it is?"
Scott glanced over at me, and I looked back with a concerned frown. "Are you saying you know who it is?" he asked, looking back at the short haired kid.
"No," Stiles replied tensely. "But I think it knew me."
Scott exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I can't deal with this right now," he said, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and bumping his forehead on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, sitting back up straightly and putting the car into gear, pulling away from the crime scene and out onto the main road. "So straight to your place?"
"No, actually," Stiles replied meekly, leaning forwards to turn up the heat and adjust the vents so it was aimed at him. Scott turned to look at him in confusion. "Uh, Juliet's place."
"Oh?" he said with a furrowed brow before his eyes popped open widely. "Oh!"
Stiles wasn't happy with his reaction, he leant across the cab and smacked his best friend on the back of the head. "Don't," he hissed, cheeks turning a blotchy red.
"What?"
"You know what."
"But-"
"No."
"I just-"
"No!"
"Red light," I said detachedly, staring out the windscreen as Scott hit the brakes, only just realising the lights in front of him had turned red. "You can come over too, you know," I told him once everyone had taken a breath, "I promise not to bite." As I said this I allowed a toothy grin to spread across my lips as I jokingly sneered at him in the mirror.
"I think I'll pass," he responded, chuckling at me and rolling his eyes at my antics. "I have to get home to my mom anyway, she needs the car for work."
Not three minutes later he'd pulled up onto the curb outside my shabby excuse for a house. Stiles patting his friend on the shoulder in thanks and slipped from the car. I mumbled a polite thank you of my own before following the boy, shutting the door behind me and watching Scott drive to the end of the street and turn left.
I walked up the drive, Stiles at my heels, the kid buzzing with nervous energy. I let him into the house, flicking on the light, the front room lighting up with a yellow glow. Stiles made a beeline for the kitchen and I followed, turning on the light in that room too, leaning against the threshold as he helped himself to the contents of my pantry, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes.
I figured I wouldn't be of any help in that department, and instead moved through to the living room, picking out an old jazz record and slipping it onto the turntable, the soft sound of saxophones filling the house. I kicked off my shoes, leaving them beside the couch and padding with sock-clad feet over to the hallway closet, where I dug out three old photo albums.
I wiped the dust off their old leather faces, pursing my lips as I picked them up, sliding to my feet and moving back into the kitchen. I took a seat on a barstool sitting by the bench, placing the albums down in front of me as I watched Stiles whisk the flour, milk and eggs together casually, nodding along to the music flooding the house as he worked.
I watched him silently, my chin propped up in my palm, observing him as he went about pouring the batter into the greased pan. "Quit staring," he murmured after a long moment, refusing to lift his eyes from the bubbling batter in front of him.
I blinked my green eyes, my head tilting naturally as I continued to watch him. He seemed to feel so at home here, and a part of me liked that. In the few short months we'd known each other, he'd become comfortable enough with me to waltz into my kitchen and start making a meal, kicking his own shoes off and leaving them by the door.
"Seriously, it's distracting," he said, flipping the pancake sloppily, some of it ending up on the stove top. "I'll clean that up."
"Tell me something about you," I spoke up, ignoring his pleas to stop staring. I had to watch him, I couldn't help myself, I had to figure him out.
He glanced up at me confusedly. "What do you mean?"
"Tell me something about you that I don't already know," I said, sitting up straighter and curling my hands together in front of me.
"Why?"
"Because it feels like all we ever talk about is me. I wanna know more about you," I answered simply, shrugging my shoulders.
"Like what?"
"Which power ranger is your favourite?"
He looked up at me after placing the first pancake on a plate, immediately moving to make a second one. "All the questions in the world, and that's the one you ask?" I didn't reply, merely cocking my head at him, making him roll his eyes in mock exasperation. "It's the black one, by the way."
"Favourite Spielberg film?"
"Jurassic Park, obviously."
"Bowie song?"
"Tie between Space Oddity and Ziggy Stardust."
I thought for a moment. "Star Wars character?"
He paused before whipping around to fix me with a deadly serious look. "You like Star Wars?"
"As much as the next girl," I shrugged. "It's one of the few modern cinematic pieces I found I could really get into."
"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, turning back to the cooking pancake. "The two hundred year old vampire watches Star Wars, and my sixteen year old best friend doesn't even know who Jabba the Hutt is. Pathetic," he grumbled under his breath, forgetting I could hear every word. I snickered quietly as he dished up a fourth pancake, then turned the stove off, leaving the bowl of batter on the side.
He took the plate, walking around until he sat beside me. "Come on," he said, nudging me and shovelling a lump of syrup soaked pancake into his mouth. "Enough about me, I'm not nearly as interesting as you," he laughed, and although I strongly disagreed, I stayed quiet. He reached forwards and opened the first album, peering down at the old black and white photographs inside. "Holy shit," he muttered, leaning closer to get a better look. "There's no way that's you."
I looked down at the photo with a soft smile. "That's the earliest photograph I have," I told him, eyeing the faded picture, observing the ghastly frills on the dress and the ugly bonnet I'd been wearing.
"From 1927?" he asked, glancing up at me for a brief second before peering at the picture. "That's when the camera was invented."
"1930," I responded, lips twitching up at the random fact he'd pulled rom that crazy brain of his. "I used to own several painted self portraits, but I had to leave them behind when I left Germany." He turned the page, excitedly peering at the other pictures as he distractedly shoved another forkful of food passed his lips. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to a photo of me standing with an older man with shaggy hair and a strong jawline.
Something deep in my gut twisted in a way that was nearly painful. I didn't want to think about him, I didn't want anything to do with him. "An old friend," I said darkly, glaring down at the grey eyes that I knew in reality were a piercing blue.
"Doesn't sound like it," he muttered, but didn't question it, flipping the page again, moving towards the end of the nineteenth century. "Who're the kids?"
I glanced down at the photo of me standing in a field, a baby in my arms and two toddlers by my ankles. "My descendants," I answered him with a fond smile. He looked up at me sharply, blinking in surprise before he turned back to the picture. "They thought I was just a distant cousin, it was the only way I could be part of their lives without compulsion.
"What're their names?"
"The baby is Cecelia, and the twins are Ebony and Jonathan. Cece grew up to be a baroness and the twins both started families in London."
"London?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
I glanced back up at him with a smirk. "That's where I was born," I admitted. "It's where I grew up, and it's where I died." Stiles looked torn between fascination and sympathy. I didn't let him say anything on the subject, not in the mood for pity. "I used to visit all the time, back when I still had family there. Now it's just…too full of painful memories."
"Where's your accent?" he asked, and I got the feeling he was trying to liven my spirits.
"Right here," I responded in my natural accent. It was like slipping into a pair of boots, and reminded me of both simpler and more complicated times. "I got rid of it when I was on the run, had to get used to speaking as in yank, or German, or Greek, or Australian…"
His heart had picked up, and I listened as he swallowed thickly, blinking a fog away from his eyes and shovelling more food into his mouth. "On the run from who?"
I hesitated, but decided I'd already gone this far. "The vampire who turned me."
He was silent for a long moment, probably figuring out how to respond. "You never told me that," he said. "About how you died. About who did this to you."
His words cut me like a knife. He made it sound like there was something wrong with me, something that needed to be fixed. I fought back my irritation though, knowing that wasn't how he meant to come across.
"It's a long story," I told him tiredly, taking it upon myself to flip the page. I decided a change of topic was best. "This is me in Switzerland in 1899," I said, and Stiles gave a frustrated huff but didn't argue. "Beside me is a good friend of mine, Damon Salvatore," I said, pointing at the handsome man to my right in the photograph. "We're still in contact even today. We used to just write letters, but it became a lot easier to keep in touch with the invention of the phone."
He pushed his way through more pages, observing them quietly, asking me questions every now and again. Soon enough he'd moved on to the next album, this one from further down my personal timeline, most appearing in colour.
I showed him Daisy and Penelope, explaining how my old friends were nurses in the war. I pointed out Gary, telling him about how he once jumped off the empire state building on a dare, and Mark, who refused to eat anything but goat's blood. I showed him pictures of Travis, an old warlock friend of mine who used to make it windy so girl's skirts would fly up. He laughed at my outrageous stories, asking questions, eager to find out more about my unfairly long life.
I didn't let him get away with it though; I asked him just as many questions about him and his life in Beacon Hills. He told me about the time Scott fell out of a tree and broke his arm, and the time he followed Lydia around the mall, trying to work up the courage to speak with her. He laughed as he recounted the first day of seventh grade when tripped on the stairs and gave himself a bloody nose.
It was good, and I felt better than I could remember feeling. It was as natural as breathing to spend time with Stiles, and I never wanted it to end.
"What does a bestiary look like?"
I looked up from my novel, raising an eyebrow at the left field question.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked Stiles cautiously, wondering where he was heading with this.
He took a seat beside me on the bench, glancing down at the book in my hands before meeting my eyes again. "We think the Argents might have one," he told me, "And maybe it'll help us figure out what – and who – this thing is."
It was a solid enough plan. "I don't tend to spend much of my free time hanging around hunters," I said, and he sagged disappointedly. "However, I'd suppose they look a lot like a witch's grimoire," I offered, and he perked up again.
"I read about those," he interjected excitedly.
"Witch's cookbook," I told him with a smirk, recalling an old friend saying the same thing.
"So what should I tell Allison to look out for?"
I paused, considering the question. "It'll be small, something that can be easily transported. It'll be old looking and worn out, having been in their family for generations. It'll most likely be bound in leather, and if she gets a chance to check inside, the bulk of it will probably be written in latin."
"Got it," he said, nodding as he pushed himself to his feet. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"
"I wasn't planning on it," I shrugged, frowning as he pouted dramatically.
"Well, you should," he said decisively.
"Why?"
He hesitated. "I don't have a good answer."
"Well, I'm convinced."
He rolled his eyes, spinning around and heading for the exit. "I'll see you there!" he yelled over his shoulder with a wave, and I couldn't help the way I grinned down at the words on the page in front of me.
Time seemed to pass slowly after that. I didn't pay attention in class, but then again, when did I ever? I hung around school after the final bell rang, staying in the library, re-reading Pride and Prejudice. The room emptied until I was the last person there, curled up in the corner, nearly at the end of the book. Once I figured it had gotten late enough, I shoved the book into my bag, dropped it off at my locker so I wouldn't have to carry it around all night, and made my way out to the field.
"So?" I asked Stiles casually, appearing beside him on the bench where he spent every game. He jumped, turning to glare at me without any real anger behind it. "What's the plan?"
"Plan?"
I shot him an exasperated look, "You do have a plan, don't you?"
"Of course we have a plan," he responded, almost offended.
"Well?" I prompted when he didn't continue.
"Okay, Allison's going to get the keys to her grandfather's office, I'm going to take them, find the bestiary then get the keys back to her before he realises they're missing."
I blinked, "Sounds simple enough."
"Hey, Juliet!" Coach yelled, storming up to me with an angry look on his face. "Lacrosse players only; you can't sit here."
"Yes I can," I told him blankly, tilting my head as my eyes caught his and his expression flattened.
"Yes you can," he repeated. I blinked and the connection broke. He scratched his head, frowning dazedly before shaking it off and moving over to the edge of the field.
"That will never not be awesome," Stiles mumbled with a smirk, and I bumped my shoulder with his in acknowledgement. "Can you sit sideways and keep an eye on the Argents?" he asked me after a long moment, watching the people on the grass scramble for the little white ball. "I'd do it but something tells me that you'll be a lot less conspicuous."
I threw one leg over the bench so I was straddling it, facing Stiles, able to see the old hunter in my peripheral vision clearly. We were quiet for most of the game, him watching the players while I watched the targets diligently. Finally Allison managed to get the jacket off her grandfather, and I watched her slip the keys from her pocket.
"It's a go," I muttered to Stiles under my breath.
He stood up immediately, turning to leave before pausing and leaning back down to murmur to me, "Aren't you coming?"
"It'll look suspicious if we both leave," I hissed back, and he nodded, turning around and slipping passed Allison, quietly taking the keys from her grip.
I watched the game, waiting impatiently for Stiles to get back. Who knew what could go wrong? What if the old man had sensors of cameras or something that would alert him to Stiles' presence in his office. Ten minutes passed, and I couldn't stomach the anxiety. I was too worried, I could barely even focus on breathing properly. With an agitated huff I stood to my feet, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jacket and slipping silently through the crowd.
I hadn't even made it to the front doors of the school before I found him. He was leaning into a car, talking with a familiar, sobbing redhead.
"Stiles?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest and shooting him my most annoyed look. He spun around so fast it was like he'd been burned. He winced as he saw me, nodding his head before leaning back through the window to talk to the crying girl within.
"Can you just give me five minutes?" Lydia shot him an annoyed glare that may have even rivalled mine. "I know, I'm sorry...just stay here and continue crying – or not crying, if you want. Whatever works for you. Just stay here and I'll be right back, and then we can talk. About anything, yeah? Okay? Just five minutes-"
I'd had enough of his rambling. I reached forwards, grabbing onto his arm and tugging. He let out a yelp, having no choice but to let me drag him into the building. I let go once we were through the doors, his sneakers squeaking in the hallway.
"Dammit," he grunted as he jogged towards the principle's office. "That was my shot. Right there, that was my window!"
I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. "If it's meant to be, there'll be another window," I told him, ignoring the sour feeling working through my gut.
"Yeah," he huffed, not sounding at all convinced. We reached the office and he immediately lifted the keys, taking three tries until he got the right one, sliding it into the lock and pushing his way into the room.
We instantly set to work. I moved over to the bookshelves along the wall while Stiles rummaged through his desk, muttering to himself as he searched. "There's nothing here," I said after a long few minutes, knowing that with each passing second we were closer to getting caught.
He pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text as I continued searching, though by then I was sure there was nothing there.
I heard footsteps in the hall, approaching the office, but I could tell by the weight of the steps and the click of heels that it was a woman, and definitely not grandpa-Argent. "Incoming," I muttered, pulling out a book, scanning the title then tossing it back on the growing pile.
"What?"
"Hello Stiles."
Even with the warning the kid still jumped, grasping his chest and taking a deep breath. "Erica," he said once he'd calmed down.
"Listen princess," I said condescendingly. "We're completing a time-sensitive task right now, so run along back to your little boy alpha."
"Yeah," Stiles added pointlessly, and I rolled my eyes.
"My 'little boy alpha' would like a word with you," she told us with a smirk.
"And if we don't?" Stiles asked bravely, and her hand snapped out, grabbing the boy by the ear. He yelped in pain, flinching away though she kept a tight hold.
"Then I'll rip your ear off," she said with a saccharine smile.
"But then everyone will be like, 'why's he walking round without an ear?'" Stiles said with a wince as she tugged. "And do you really want to have to answer that question."
"What does he want?" I interrupted before he could say anything even more stupid.
"Just to talk."
I narrowed my eyes at her, but her heartbeat was steady. "Okay," I said, ignoring the sharp look Stiles sent my way. "But let him go, or I'll rip off your ear and shove it so far down your throat that you'll be able to hear your digestion system."
Stiles grinned almost giddily as she let him go, looking incredibly smug. She glared at me but turned around, leading the way out of the office. We followed, however reluctantly.
She led us through the school and into the pool centre, the water giving the room a delightfully creepy aqua glow. The latest alpha stood in front of us, a basketball in his grasp.
"Stiles," Derek greeted us with faux politeness, "Juliet."
"Derek," Stiles muttered with a scowl.
"What'd you see at the mechanic's garage?" he asked, straight to the point.
"Ah, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting," he snarked, and I pressed my lips together to conceal a proud smile.
The wolves chuckled, glancing at each other before Derek sank his claws into the material of the ball, making it instantly deflate.
"Holy God," Stiles shuddered and on instinct I shifted closer to him, an action Derek didn't miss.
"Let's try that again."
"I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms and pasting a sarcastic smirk on my lips. "Was that supposed to be some kind of threat?"
Derek copied the expression, tilting his head and pinning me with a harsh green stare, "You tell me."
"You'd better hope for your sake that it wasn't," I warned. "Because if you think I won't kill you while you sleep, then you've got another thing coming."
"Alright!" Stiles interrupted before the situation could get out of hand. He reached forwards, grabbing my hand in his own and squeezing, pulling me back so I was standing beside him. "Look, the thing was pretty slick looking. It's skin was dark, it had a pattern. I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Because I have somebody I really need to talk to."
I pulled my hand out from his, not in the mood for any contact. Of course his priority was Lydia. Derek shot him an irritated look, and he got the message that he wasn't done just yet.
"Ugh, alright," he groaned, equally irritated. "Eyes...eyes were yellowish and slitted. It has a lot of teeth and, oh, it's got a tail too. Are we good?"
My sensitive hearing picked up the faint sound of what I thought sounded like claws tapping against metal. I froze and took a breath in, cringing at the sour smell I was met with.
"What? Have you seen it?" Stiles asked eagerly. "You have this look on your face like you know exactly what I'm talking about."
I spun around, getting my first glance at the beast. "Stiles," I gasped, fearing for the kid's life. He jumped, spinning around and scrambling backwards in an effort to get away from the thing. I was close on his heels, making sure to stay in front of him, ready to fend off an attack at a moment's notice.
"Run!" Derek yelled as the thing attacked, shoving Stiles in the chest, the boy stumbling back a few steps as the alpha ducked into a defensive crouch. I slid into one of my own, my lips curling back to expose my glistening fangs.
"Derek, your neck," Stiles said breathlessly, pointing to the cut just below his hairline. Why would it cut him there? And why so surgically? It seemed like a calculated move, almost too calculated.
"Stiles, get him out of here," I growled as the lizard reared back, exposing it's own set of pointy teeth. The kid rushed forwards, slipping an arm around Derek for support as he started to sag, losing control of his body.
"Where is it?!" Stiles asked worriedly, struggling to pull a quickly deteriorating Derek across the room, avoiding the pools of water.
"I've got eyes on it," I said, meeting it's yellow, reptilian gaze. It suddenly darted to the left, and I was shocked to see how fast it moved. I wasn't too worried though, because it still had nothing on me. I didn't want to get too close, however, if it's venom worked on humans and werewolves, who knew the affect it could have on me.
"Call Scott!" Derek urged him as they hurried towards the door.
I heard Stiles scrambling for his phone, then a loud splash as someone hit the water. I spun around, stupidly taking my eyes off the creature, worried Stiles was the one in trouble. I was relieved to see it was only Derek, and moved back into position in front of Stiles. I caught the boy looking between his dropped phone and a drowning Derek. "Don't you dare," I warned him with a hiss, but he didn't listen, diving face first into the water.
I huffed, watching the creature from the corner of my eyes while I made sure the kid could at least swim. Once he and a barely conscious Derek broke the surface, I knew I was safe to go back to fighting this thing. I was just about to throw a punch when I felt a knick at the back of my neck. I spun around and landed a kick to it's side, sending it flying back a few feet.
"Bad news," I called to Stiles. "I've been cut."
"Oh God," he moaned, sounding on the verge of a panic attack. "Whatever you do don't fall in the water."
I stared back at the thing as it righted itself, hissing at me warningly. "I don't need air to survive, so that won't be a problem," I called back to him before letting out a feral snarl, making the creature flinch back. A smirk spread across my lips and I took a step forwards, preparing to attack, only to spin around in alarm when I heard the sound of somebody choking on water.
I was relieved, once again, to discover that it was only Derek, and not the more important boy bobbing in the pool.
By the time I'd turned back around, the giant lizard was gone. It had one hell of a stealth ability if it could slip away without my knowledge.
"Where is it? Do you see it?"
"No."
"Maybe it took off."
I shushed the floating boys, tilting my head to listen in to the sound of an animalistic roar as it echoed around the room.
"Can you get me out of here before I drown?" Derek grumbled from behind me.
"You're worried about drowning?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"
"Did you notice that I'm paralysed from the neck down in eight feet of water?!" he shouted back irritably. I didn't have the time to roll my eyes outwardly, but I sure as hell did on the inside.
With a tired huff Stiles began to drag the wolf through the water towards the edge. "Stop!" I yelled in a panic as the creature appeared in my vision, stalking around the edge of the pool.
"What's it waiting for?" I ignored Stiles' question, whether it was aimed at me or not. I dipped lower into my defensive crouch, watching it carefully. "Jules!" he yelled. "Don't attack it unless it attacks you!"
I straightened, however reluctantly.
"Shouldn't you be paralysed by now?!" he asked, and I absently clenched my hands into fists and wiggled my toes.
"Everything's working just fine," I shouted back, weight shifting from foot to foot in eager anticipation of a fight.
We watched as the lizard approached the edge of the pool, dipping a foot in the water before flinching back and scurrying away from the edge.
"I don't think it can swim," Stiles said in shock. The creature snarled, suddenly rearing forward, heading right for me, a thirst for blood in it's eyes that I was all too familiar with. "Jules, get in the water," he ordered, though I took no notice. "Don't try and fight it, who knows what a bite could do to you?!"
Again, I ignored him. "Come on," I hissed with an excited grin, crooking a finger at it. "Closer," I purred, and it roared, beginning to almost gallop towards me. I snarled, eyes turning black and blood red as I ducked it's attack, slipping under it's arm and landing a punch to it's side. It didn't make a sound, merely swinging around and digging it's claws into my arm. I grunted but otherwise didn't react. I managed to kick it hard in the leg, but then it's claws came down across my thigh, and I felt it cut deep, nearly to the bone.
"Juliet!" Stiles yelled desperately as I swung my fist into it's face, making it hiss. "Please," he begged, and for the millionth time I found I simply couldn't deny him.
With an aggravated growl I leapt off the side of the pool, diving into the water, the temperature not bothering me in the slightest. I stayed under the water for a long minute, letting the adrenaline that had flooded my body leave.
Finally I broke the surface, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. "Dammit Juliet, don't you ever do that again," he growled in a way that wasn't at all frightening.
"Sure," I told him placatingly, shoving my wet hair out of my face and swimming over to his side, taking Derek's weight off of him, holding the paralysed wolf's head above water.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep treading water, Jules," he said breathlessly, clearly struggling to stay afloat. Before I could reply, I noticed his eyes light up with an idea. I followed his gaze, frowning when I saw the phone lying on the side of the pool.
I was about to tell him how foolish and dangerous his plan was, when I felt a serious fatigue wash over me. "Stiles," I said, and my tone of voice gave me away, because Stiles' attention instantly snapped to me.
"Jules?"
"Something's wrong," I told him tiredly, and I glanced to my throbbing arm, where I hadn't noticed it was still bleeding excessively, blood turning the water red. Worse than that was the wound on my thigh, so close to my artery, it was one of the worst possible places I could have been cut. "The venom must...slow...the healing process," I told him stiltedly.
"Oh God, you're losing a lot of blood," he said, swimming over to me and wrapping an arm around my waist. Black spots appeared in my vision. "What happens when a vampire bleeds out?"
"Derek," I said, nodding lethargically to the alpha and completely ignoring his question.
"What?" Stiles asked, struggling to hold me up as I struggled to hold Derek up.
"I can't...hold him," I panted, energy draining quicker than ever. "I'll survive," I murmured weakly. "Just...fish me...out later..."
"No," Stiles snapped, though he did as he was told, grabbing on to Derek's dead weight. "Come on," he urged desperately. "Stay conscious."
Breathing was getting harder. It didn't hurt, bar the aching at my wounds, but rather, it was like I was falling asleep. I reached forwards, just barely able to hear Stiles' racing heart. I pressed a hand to his cheek, forcing my lips into a smile before my eyes slipped shut and I slipped under the water.
I was floating.
I wondered if I was dead, permanently this time. However, through the haze of the floating feeling, I could feel a dull ache. Slowly it grew, like my veins were on fire. I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even open my eyes.
Blood.
I felt it on my tongue, the warm, rich taste of fresh blood. I could barely swallow, so it merely trickled down my throat. It took an eternity that was really only several moments, before I was able to move again. My hands immediately snapped up to grasp onto whatever body part that was supplying the blood, holding it tightly in fear it would slip away. I began to suck, the blood pooling in my mouth in torrents, so quickly I could barely swallow it all in time. I sighed, my fangs slipping from my gums and digging into the flesh, making even more blood spill out.
Suddenly the source was ripped from me, and my eyes snapped open as I let out a feral, animalistic snarl.
"Juliet!" a familiar voice yelled.
Scott.
Stiles.
Friends.
I looked up, horror dawning on me as I peered as a crouched Scott, standing protectively over a doubled over Stiles, gripping his wrist in pain. I coughed, the blood in my system feeling disgusting, the taste it left in my mouth going from sugar to ash. I flipped over, bracing my hands on the cement as I retched, my mind struggling with my body.
Nothing came out, my system refusing to let go of the precious substance.
Finally I still, leaning on my elbows and breathing heavily even though I had no need to. I glanced up, we were still in the pool room, the water still giving off that eery glow that I found so calming.
"Jules?" another voice said as I felt tears sting my eyes. I looked up, catching Stiles' gaze.
He didn't look disgusted, nor did he look terrified. He simply look, worried, as though I hadn't been the one to nearly drain him dry of blood. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, feeling disgusted with myself. I raised a hand to my mouth, wiping away the blood that was still left on my lips, refusing to taste even another drop, no matter how much I might have wanted to.
"Jules-" he began, but I didn't let him finish.
I stumbled to my feet, turning around even as my joints and muscles protested, staggering from the room like a zombie, my body still waking up.
I went through the forest to get home, staying off the roads in case either of the boys were looking for me. I vaguely wondered what happened with the creature, but I didn't have much room in my head to worry about it, my thoughts too occupied with the events that had just happened with Stiles.
Sometimes it was easy to forget what I was, especially when I was surrounded with so many human friends. But the bliss never lasted long, somehow or other I always got reminded of what a monster I truly was.
I left the house dark when I got home, kicking my shoes off at the door and stumbling into the living room. Vampires didn't feel the cold, so I was incredibly confused when I felt myself begin to shiver. I figured it was psychosomatic, but knowing that didn't make it go away. I moved forwards, still so wet I was dripping onto my carpet, and I threw some logs and kindle in the fireplace, lighting it up with a match then plopping in front of it, my arms curled around my knees.
I was all alone, and some days I liked that, other days I didn't. Today? Today I deserved it.
I don't know how long I sat there. It could have been minutes, may have been hours. Either way, the fire was still burning brightly when there was a knock at my front door. I didn't so much as flinch, uncaring that someone was out there. They could wait. Everything could wait.
"Jules," a familiar voice called through the slab of wood, and my gut twisted, my jaw clenched and my heart dropped into my stomach. "Jules, come on!"
It was silent for a few moments, then the sound of the handle squeaking met my ears as somebody turned it. I cursed myself for leaving it unlocked, but I hadn't thought anybody would come looking for me, not after tonight.
Stiles padded into the room after kicking his shoes off at the door, moving around the couch and coming to a stop beside me. I didn't look away from the flames, watching them dance across the wood in the fireplace.
"Hey," he said, the word falling flat. I'd expected the atmosphere to change, become more tense or something, instead I just continued to feel hollow and numb. After a long minute of silence he sat down beside me, his legs folding in front of him as he too watched the flames.
I made the mistake of breathing in, instantly smelling the dried blood clinging to his skin. I couldn't resist a glance down to observe the damage. Someone had patched it up; wrapped a bandage around the wound, but not done much else. He'd still bled through the thin cloth, a large red mark staining the white fabric. I winced, the sight only depressing me further. I pressed my chin to my knees, returning my gaze to the fire.
"I'm not going to say I'm sorry."
I blinked, not having been expecting that sentence to come out of his mouth. "You don't have anything to apologise for," I replied after a beat, my voice barely audible to his dull human hearing.
He, also, wasn't expecting me to say that. "Aren't you angry with me for making you break your feeding rule?" he asked confusedly, and my chest constricted in pain. He thought I was mad at him?
"Of course not," I told him, my tone coming out a little harsher than intended. His heart jumped but quickly calmed again. I sighed, burying my head into the crook of my arm and squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "I should be apologising to you," I muttered softly, listening to the sound of his breathing, hoping it would help centre me.
"What for?" He sounded genuinely confused.
"What for?" I asked incredulously, swinging around to face him properly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd arrived, trying not to get distracted by the way they turned into pools of melted caramel in the firelight.
"I knew what I was doing when I put my bleeding wrist to your lips, Jules," he said in a much calmer tone, like he was simply talking about tomorrow's weather forecast. "So what if you bit me? You got a bit carried away. You should see me with curly fries; man, you just cannot pull me away."
"This isn't a joke, Stiles," I grumbled, refusing to let him lighten the mood.
"I know," he nodded, shuffling even closer to me so out shoulders brushed. "Look, I'm fine. Really, I feel a bit tired, but that's probably just because I was treading water for so long." I was quiet, not sure what he wanted me to say. "I meant what I said, I'm not going to apologise. If I had to do tonight over again, I'd still choose to save you."
I didn't have a good response. Not one that wouldn't scare him, anyway. So I pushed myself to my feet, moving to the window. I heard Stiles sigh in defeat, and despite myself my lips quirked up at the corners. "Have you ever listened to Kind of Blue?" I asked softly, slipping the record out from it's spot on my shelves and moving over to my turntable. "Miles Davis?"
I heard his heart speed up, and he took a deep breath to try and steady it, failing miserably.
"It's a good album," I told him, flicking the switch and sighing as the soft jazz filled the room. "One of my favourites from the 50s."
I moved back across the carpet until I came to a stop beside him, hesitating only a moment before slipping back down to his level, curling up beside him. He was forcing his breath to stay even, but it was obvious he was struggling. I smiled gently, turning back to face the fire and closing my eyes, listening to the music. I felt Stiles' eyes on me as I began to hum along, but I paid him no mind.
I did a terrible thing, biting Stiles, even if it was to heal myself. I wasn't even aware who I'd been feeding from, and I dread to think about what might have happened had I known. Would I have kept going, or would I have stopped sooner.
I fluttered an eye open and peeked at Stiles, who continued to watch me with a dazed look on his face. "This part's my favourite," I whispered, closing my eyes again and nodding my head along with the music as it crescendoed.
We must have looked a sight, sitting in front of a dying fire as we listened to the music, both still in our damp clothes, lost in our own thoughts.
I felt at piece, and I realised that, despite everything, I was happy. This boy and his loud presence made me happy. And I never wanted to be without him.
A/N: Bit of a long one, but I have a feeling you guys don't mind :) Let me know what you thought!
