You better run like the devil,

'Cause they're never gonna leave you alone!

You better hide up in the alley,

'Cause they're never gonna find you a home!

And as the blood runs down the walls,

You see me creepin' up these halls.

I've been a bad motherfucker

Tell your sister I'm another

House Of Wolves – My Chemical Romance


Our feet hitting the pavement and Derek's heaving pants were the only sounds I could hear as we raced through the streets after Jackson. I was plenty ahead of the alpha, but not quite up with the kanima. The last thing I wanted was to get into a fight alone, especially one I wasn't sure I could win.

I watched as it climbed a fence, slipping into an industrial lot. I didn't pause for a second, grabbing onto the metal mesh and hoisting myself over it. I hit the ground running, listening distractedly as Derek also catapulted himself over the fence.

I decided it was time to stop playing tag.

I sped up, slipping around so I stood in front of the kanima, a vicious snarl escaping my lips. It screeched back, exposing rows and rows of glistening, pointy white teeth. I ran at it, slamming into it and sending it flying back into a concrete column. In moments Derek was at my side, landing a hit to it's slimy face. It snarled but the alpha wasn't fazed, merely spin kicking it onto it's ass. I was impressed, but refused to show it, dodging an attack and landing a kick of my own to it's spine – if it even had one.

It flipped back into an upright position, and Derek picked up an old, discarded piece of metal, holding it up as a shield which the kanima continued to hit, sparks flying off where it's nails connected with the dulled material. I grabbed it around the neck, pulling it back and then slamming it's face into the column behind Derek, who darted out of the way just in time. I dropped it, letting it collapse to the ground, momentarily stunned.

I slid back into place on the other side of it, prepared to end this. Before either Derek or I could make a move, it was climbing up the column beside us. We snarled at it as it sneered down at us, almost taunting us. It seemed like something that Jackson prick would do.

Suddenly the area exploded with blinding sparks, and the kanima fell from it's place, landing with a dull thud on the pavement. Gunshots sounded, and we spun around to glare at papa-Argent, who'd appeared, gun in hand as he shot at the creature.

Derek and I had the same idea: to get the hell out of there.

We ran in opposite directions, but I couldn't have cared less. I hoisted myself over the fence again, this time coming to a dead stop when I saw a familiar looking Jeep parked on the other side, a familiar kid gaping at me through the windscreen.

I rolled my eyes and slipped into the passenger seat, hissing, "Turn off your damn lights." Stiles did as he was told, bright headlights flickering off. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Scott and I couldn't let you do this alone," he murmured back, sitting straighter in his seat, trying to see what was happening beyond the fence.

"I managed two hundred years without you, Stiles," I snapped, the hurt from earlier resurfacing as I looked at him again. "I'll manage two hundred after you're gone, too." He winced like he'd been struck, and part of me wished I could take it back. I didn't though, staying firm and scowling out the window.

"I guess I never thought of it that way," he said thoughtfully, tone hollow. I didn't look at him, continuing to watch the darkness outside, watching for any hint of anyone, making sure the hunters didn't come close enough to realise Stiles was involved. "I sometimes forget you're not normal; that you'll be here forever."

I spotted Scott jogging through the darkness, heading for the corner on the other side of the road. "Come on," I said before I could change my mind, not in the mood for chick-flick moments or anything of the sort. "We need to catch up with Scott."

I clicked open the door, jumping to the ground and slamming it shut behind me, listening as Stiles did the same.

"Keep to the shadows," I told him lightly, refusing to meet his eyes and instead focusing on keeping an eye on the hunters on the edge of the lot. We walked around the area, making sure we didn't step into the light. By the third time Stiles had tripped over a cinderblock I'd had enough, pushing away any irritation I might have had and reaching down to grasp his hand in my own. I held his hand, pulling him along a safe path, ensuring he wouldn't trip and hurt himself. His heart sped up in his chest, and after a moment his fingers intertwined with my own. His palm was slightly sweaty, but I made no comment on it, or his racing heart.

Finally we made it through to the corner, slipping around onto the street and making our way towards the direction Scott had fled. I didn't take my hand from his, but neither of us said anything, and I was happy to keep it that way. I led him towards where the beta's scent was emanating from: a corner he was crouched behind, staring at the entrance to a club.

Stiles reached forwards first, tapping him on the back with the hand not clutched to my own, making the distracted wolf practically jump out of his skin. He pressed a hand over his heart, whirling around to glare at the pair of us. "Sorry, sorry," Stiles hissed apologetically, stepping back, giving the beta his space. "Did you see where he went?"

"I lost him."

"What? You couldn't catch his scent?"

"I don't think he has one," Scott responded dubiously.

"Well, then how are we supposed to know what the hell he's doing?" I asked sharply, glancing around the corner at the lineup of people.

"Planning to kill someone."

"Oh," Stiles chirped with false brightness. "That explains the claws and the fangs and all that. Good, makes perfect sense now." Scott shot his best friend an unimpressed glare that held no real bite to it. "What, Scott? Come on, I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone; sarcasm is my only defence," he threw both hands in the air, and since ours were connected, mine went up with him, shoving our intertwined fingers in the beta's face.

He frowned, taking a moment to process what he'd just seen. He looked between Stiles and I with a thoughtful frown. "Are you guys holding hands?" he asked, cocking his head at an angle much like an actual dog. Instantly Stiles dropped my hand like it had burned him, going as far as to take a step away from me, his cheeks covered with embarrassed red blotches. "Whatever," Scott sighed, deciding there were more important things to be focused on, but no doubt storing the information away for later. "Just help me find it."

"Not it," Stiles corrected, shoving his hands into his pockets. I noticed that, although I couldn't feel the cold, my hands felt particularly numb and cool without his warm skin pressed to mine. "Jackson."

"I know," Scott breathed, glancing at the line of people around the corner, "I know."

"The real question is, does he know it?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes down the street.

"And did anybody else see him back at your house?" Stiles jumped in.

"I mean, I don't think so. But he already passed Derek's test anyway."

"Yeah, but that's just the thing," he said with a confused frown. "How did he pass the test?"

"I don't know," Scott replied, before snapping his head around to peer at me through the darkness. "Do you know?"

"Why would I know?" I asked with genuine confusion.

"Uh, let's see," Stiles began sarcastically, and I sighed internally, preparing for his rant. "Maybe because Scott's only been a part of the supernatural community for a few short months while you have nearly two hundred years under your belt?"

I rolled my eyes and bit my tongue to prevent myself from sassing him back. It wouldn't help matters. "I'm not all-knowing," I told him calmly, tapping my fingers in an uneven beat against my arm.

"Well, do you think it's like an either-or thing?" he asked, changing tactics. "Derek said a snake can't be poisoned by it's own venom, right? When's the kanima not the kanima?"

There was a beat. "When it's Jackson."

It irked me that these two teenage boys had managed to put it together before me, but I let go of my annoyance almost instantly, it helped nobody. I heard the creaking of metal from above me and glanced up, eyes narrowing at the sight of the kanima crawling through a window. "Guys," I hissed, tapping Stiles on the arm.

He looked up, alarmed, then followed my gaze. Scott caught on after a long moment, doing the same. "You see that?" Stiles asked his friend, peering up at the disappearing tail.

"He's inside," Scott pointed out needlessly.

"What's he going to do in there?"

It was quiet for a moment as we contemplated his question, then Scott exclaimed, "I know who he's after."

"What? How? Did you smell something?"

"Armani."

We stared at the teen wolf blankly, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Danny," he explained, looking frustrated when we didn't immediately understand. "Danny wears Armani cologne, and I just saw him going inside. Who else could Jackson be going after?"

"Why would he go after his best friend?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know," he replied frantically. "But we have to stop him." He paused, glancing around the small alleyway we were couped in. "How the hell are we going to get in? Is there like, a window we can go through or something..."

"Uh..." Stiles trailed, pointing obviously at me.

I rolled my eyes once more. "Oh sure, go right ahead and volunteer me," I drawled sardonically, and Stiles huffed at me, clearly less than pleased with my attitude.

"Will you compel the bouncer or not?" he asked directly.

I wanted to say no just to spite him, but I decided that was too much of a dick move. "Fine," I grumbled. I'd do it, but I didn't have to be happy about it. I strode forwards, head held high, my usual walk transforming in an instant to the confident, self-assured one I used when pretending to be physically older than I was.

Scott and Stiles scrambled after me, staying close behind me as I padded up to the large, scowling bouncer. "Back of the line, sweetheart," he said gruffly.

"No," I said flatly, making his eyes snap to me. As soon as his baby blues met my emerald green, he was gone. His expression dropped away, leaving only a hollow stare as he waited for my instructions. I ignored the confused stares I was getting from the men in the line, focusing instead on the task at hand. "You're going to let my friends and I inside now, and you're not going to check our ID's."

I blinked, breaking the hold and the guy shook his head, frowning for a split second before a peaceful smile appeared on his thin lips. "Right this way, ma'am," he said unclipping the velvet rope and waving the boys and I through.

"That's seriously my favourite thing," Stiles shouted to me giddily as we stepped into the club, the music so loud it made my ears ache. I held back a retort about how if he loved it so much he wouldn't be wearing vervain, but I held my tongue. We waded into the crowd, coming to a stop on the edge of the dance floor. I suddenly realised why I'd been the recipient of those stares.

"Guys, everyone in here's a dude?" Scott yelled to us, and I looked over at Stiles, a snicker escaping my lips when I saw a handful of beautiful drag queens draped over him, one even stroking his freckled face. "I think we're in a gay club!" Scott continued obliviously.

"Man, nothing gets passed those keen werewolf senses, huh Scott?"

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, still chuckling as I turned around, intent on heading for the bar. I dodged the grinding men, enjoying being in a club without having the men leer at my chest like animals. I ordered a drink from the bartender, then perched at a chair, sipping my scotch and gazing around the room, eyes seeking out Jackson – or rather, the kanima.

"Two beers!" Stiles ordered, slipping into place beside me with Scott a good five minutes later, finally managing to get away from his enamoured admirers.

"ID's?" the bartender asked, eyeing the pair suspiciously. The boys handed over their fake driver's licences. The attractive guy behind the bar peered at them closely for a moment before smirking and shaking his head. "How about two cokes?"

"Rum and coke? Sure!" Stiles grinned, bobbing his head to the music. After a moment he seemed to notice the bartender's hard stare and quickly changed his tune. "Coke's fine actually...I'm driving anyway."

I took another sip of my scotch, smirking at a dejected Stiles.

"Can't you compel me a drink?" he asked in a whiny tone, and I simply shot him an unimpressed look. "This wouldn't be a problem if you would just hook me up with your illegal papers guy!" he all but yelled in an effort to be heard over the thudding music.

"Say it louder, why don't you?" I shouted back, scowling at the brown eyed boy.

"That one's paid for," another bartender, this one gloriously shirtless, said with a sexy smirk, gesturing to Scott's coke.

Scott couldn't contain his grin as he took a sip from his straw. I could faintly see a blush creeping up his tanned cheeks, and I smirked widely, finishing off the rest of my drink. "Shut up," Stiles snarled without any bite, sipping at his own drink.

"I didn't say anything."

"Well your face did."

I chuckled at their banter, spinning around to peer out into the crowd. I was never much of a dancer, at least, not this kind of dancing. Sure, it could be fun in the right setting with the perfect amount of alcohol, but to me, dancing was less about rubbing up against each other and more about the connection you felt to the other person. That's how it was when I grew up, anyway, and I guess those sort of things tended to stick with you.

"Hey, I found Danny," Stiles piped up after a minute, putting down his cup and gesturing into the sweaty crowd.

"I found Jackson," Scott countered, eyes on the ceiling. I followed his gaze, scowling at the overgrown lizard creeping along the piping. "Get Danny," he instructed a moment later, eyes trained on the kanima.

"What are you gonna do?"

Scott flicked open his hand, exposing the sharp claws stemming from each finger. I glanced over at him, veins crawling up my cheeks. "Works for me," Stiles hummed, nodding to himself before hurrying forwards.

Scott and I stalked forwards, keeping an eye on the kanima as we attempted to get under it, so we could stop it if it dropped to the dance floor. A large shirtless man bumped into me, and while ordinarily that would have been the opposite of a problem, it was more than inconvenient in that moment, as I took my eyes off the lizard for a split second, looking back up a moment later to see it had vanished. "Where the hell did it go?" Scott muttered, knowing I could hear him over the booming music easily.

"I don't know," I growled, glaring up at the roof as it began to leak fog, yet another inconvenience.

Suddenly there were screams echoing through the room, so loud they pierced over the music. My chest clenched in worry, I was so concerned for Stiles' wellbeing that I barely noticed Derek, who appeared and slashed the kanima across the chest. I didn't have time to make sure everyone was okay, I had to get to Stiles.

"Stiles?!" I yelled even once the music had died down, roughly shoving through the tightly packed crowd. "Stiles?!"

"Jules?!"

I slipped out from behind a giant, instantly moving to Stiles' side, my hands attaching to his shoulders like magnets. "You're alright?" I asked with a frown, and he was quick to nod.

"What happened?" he questioned quietly, pressing a hand to my back and gently pushing me away from the crowd.

"Derek showed up," I told him, leading him through to the far exit, struggling to keep to human speeds in my worry for Scott and the whereabouts of the kanima. "Scott went this way."

We rushed from the club, the only sounds our footsteps on the ground and Stiles' panting. I led him out into the cool night air and through the parked cars until we finally made it to Scott, who knelt on the ground over an unconscious, injured Jackson.

"What do we do with him now?" the teen wolf asked at a loss, blinking up at us desperately. Stiles turned to stare at me expectantly, and I got the feeling I would have to take the reins on this one.

"Get him in the back of the Jeep," I instructed, glancing around the parking lot to make sure we weren't being watched.

"What?" Stiles interjected, making no move to follow my order. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"He'll get blood on the seats."

I paused. "That's your argument?"

He hesitated. "Well-"

"We don't have time for this," I cut him off, reluctantly reaching down and all but throwing the dead weight of Jackson over my shoulder. "Go inside," I told Scott sternly. "Make sure nobody died, I'll take the lizard to the car and have Stiles bring it around. We'll meet back here in ten."

It was solid enough plan, definitely good enough considering I'd come up with it on the spot. Scott nodded, turning around and rushing back into the club. I could already hear the faint sound of sirens carried on the wind as ambulances and probably policemen made their way to our location.

"Come on," I urged a still Stiles, adjusting Jackson on my shoulder and stalking down the rows of cars, heading straight for the empty industrial lot we were parked behind.

The guy was light as a feather, so I was mildly amused when Stiles said, "Let me help you with that."

I shot him a dubious look. "Trust me, I don't need the help."

"Hey," he snapped, though not unkindly. "I'm trying to be chivalrous here."

I raised an eyebrow in his general direction. "We – a vampire and a human – are heading to your Jeep to hide the unconscious body of a homicidal lizard, all the while fleeing from what by now is probably officially labelled as a crime scene, and you're concerned with chivalry?"

He grumbled unintelligently under his breath, but I paid him no attention as we approached the gate. I had two options: I could throw Jackson over, or I could break the lock on the gate to the right. Deciding I would rather risk breaking and entering charges than waking the reptile in my arms, I gripped the padlock in my fist, giving it one sharp tug and smirking with satisfaction as it snapped.

Stiles didn't comment as he slid through the gap, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking his Jeep. I moved around to the back, watching curiously as Stiles rushed forwards, needlessly opening the door for me, allowing me to carelessly drop Jackson on the backseat.

We both walked around to our respective sides, Stiles sliding into place behind the wheel while I leaned back in the passenger seat, kicking my feet up on the dash and ignoring Stiles' annoyed grimace. We were quiet during the very short drive back around to the front of the club. Stiles' reversed into a parking space, and I slid back out into the cold, pulling a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it up, leaning my weight against the Jeep and puffing in the smoke.

A few moments later Scott jogged up to me, nodding in acknowledgement before he slipped into my freshly vacated seat. I tuned out the sound of their muttering, pulling my phone from my pocket and checking for any new messages. My inbox was empty except for an older text from Stiles about the storm warnings a few day ago and to make sure I kept my windows shut. I smiled at the memory, unable to help myself as I reread his texted words.

Suddenly there were two headlights beaming in my eyes brightly. I winced, my sensitive eyes aching momentarily under the light. I sucked in another lungful of chemicals, pushing my phone back into my pocket and glancing over my shoulder into the car at a panicking Stiles. He exchanged some sharp words with Scott before he was suddenly tumbling from the car, stumbling across the road to meet his father halfway.

"Hey!" he greeted the older man brightly.

The Sheriff wasn't impressed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?'" he asked blankly, and I watched in amusement as I absentmindedly blew smoke rings from my lips. "It's a club. We were clubbing. You know? At the club."

"Not exactly your type of club," he replied skeptically.

"Uh," he muttered, briefly at a loss for what to say. "Well, dad, there's a conversation that we need to-"

"You're not gay."

I snorted quietly, luckily neither man noticed, both too caught up in their conversation to notice me watching them. "I could be," Stiles argued.

"Not dressed like that," he countered, eyeing his son with a critical eye. I barked a sharp laugh, this one heard by the small family. Stiles' heart picked up, but he didn't turn around, while the Sheriff glanced at me, lowering his voice as he looked back at Stiles, "Not with the way you look at her."

Again, Stiles didn't seem to know how to reply.

"This is the second crime scene that you've just happened to show up on," he continued strongly, frowning down at his son. "And at this point, I've been fed so many lies that I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me. Now what the hell is going on?"

I winced, looking away and pretending I couldn't hear every word.

"Dad, I-"

"The truth, Stiles."

"The truth?"

I froze, watching the kid worriedly. He swallowed loudly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I wondered what he'd come up with. If I had to, I could compel him to go away, but something told me that, since Stiles had taken to wearing vervain around his neck, he wouldn't have liked that suggestion.

"The truth is that we were here with Danny," he finally lied, nodding to himself as he spoke. "Yeah, because he just broke up with his boyfriend, so we were just trying to take him out and get his mind off things. That's it."

It was silent for a beat, and I watched the sheriff carefully, hoping he'd believe the lie and save me from having to compel him behind Stiles' back.

"Well that's really good of you guys," he finally said, looking at his son with soft eyes. "You're good friends."

I listened to Stiles' heart race with what was no doubt guilt, but as always, kept quiet. He clicked his tongue, forcing a carefree smile onto his face. With a pat on his dad's back, he'd turned around and retreated to the safety of his Jeep. I nodded politely at the sheriff, dropping my cigarette to the ground once he'd turned away, crushing it with my boot as I walked around to the back of the car. I tugged open the door, cringing at the sight of a naked, sweaty Jackson curled up in the backseat.

"What are you doing?!" Stiles exclaimed as I roughly shoved aside the unconscious kid's legs, preparing to settle into the seat.

I glanced up at him confusedly. "Getting in the car?"

"You-you can't sit there," he argued, shaking his head, glancing at the naked boy with a look of disgust.

"Why not?" I asked slowly.

"Because-well-because he's naked," he said, cringing as he realised how weak his argument was.

I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. I was exasperated when he didn't. "So?" I questioned sharply. "We've all seen a dick."

Stiles flushed. This time it wasn't all blotchy patches of red, but rather a wave that crawled up from under his collar. "Would-would you just swap with Scott?" he stuttered, and though it was worded like a question, it was clear there was only one correct answer.

Mumbling unintelligently under my breath, I walked back around to the passenger seat, slipping past a sheepish Scott and making myself comfortable in the front seat. Once Stiles was satisfied with the seating arrangements he pulled out of the parking lot, steering us out onto the main road.

"Stiles?" Scott spoke up a good few minutes down the road, clearly at a loss as he watched his best friend scowl out the window like he smelt something bad. "What the hell are we going to do with him now?"

"Take him somewhere he can't do any damage, obviously," Stiles said, finally breaking out of his thoughts.

"Like?"

"Uh, what about your house?" he suggested.

"Not with my mom there!" Scott countered, glancing down distastefully at Jackson's naked form. "We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. Or long enough to convince him that he's dangerous."

There was a beat. "I still say we just kill him."

I snapped my head around to stare at Stiles with wide eyes, my mouth forming into a sly smile. This boy surprised me every minute of every day. Who knew he could be so gloriously ruthless? "I'll take this one for the team," I said almost giddily, raising my hand for consideration. Sure, I'd sworn not to kill anyone, but I figured I could bend the rule for a psychopathic killer lizard.

"We're not killing him," Scott barked sternly. I turned around to pout at him dramatically.

"God," Stiles hissed back in annoyance. "Fine. Okay..." he trailed off, watching the road for a long moment before proclaiming, "I have an idea."

"Does it involve breaking the law?"

"By now don't you think that's a given?"

"I was just trying to be optimistic."

"Don't bother."

"So?" I asked happily, ready and excited to cause chaos. "What's the plan?"


"This is the plan?"

Scott wasn't happy. I, on the other hand, was ecstatic. "As far as plans go, it could be worse," I offered with a cheshire cat grin, hoping he would find some sense of comfort in my words.

He didn't.

"Are we doing this the vampire way or the good old fashioned human way?" I asked conversationally, crossing my arms over my chest and cocking my head at Stiles. The kid sent me a befuddled look. "Compulsion or hot-wiring?" I simplified, gesturing to the police transport vehicle sitting idle by the back entrance to the police station across the road from us, two officers standing outside of it, talking in low voices.

"Considering none of us can hot-wire a car..." he trailed off, eyes widening at my smug expression. "Let me get this straight, you don't know how to turn on a laptop but you can hot-wire a car?" My lips quirked up in a smirk. "Where the hell do your priorities lie?" he muttered to himself, running his palm down his face.

"Are we doing this or what?" Scott interjected, glancing uneasily at the policemen by the van.

"Is the little teen wolf afraid of getting caught?" I goaded him, and he sent me a sour glare that held no real malice in it. I smirked back widely, feeling more alive with each second. This was my element, this was where I excelled: the illegal and the immoral. This was my playground.

"Look, just go compel the drivers to give up the keys and make them think that they looked away for a moment and when they looked back it was gone, so when people do figure out it's missing there's a plausible reason," Stiles instructed me, and I nodded, hands automatically going to the buttons of my shirt as I undid the top few, working my was down my chest. "What the hell are you doing?" he squeaked, turning around to stare at me with wide eyes.

"On the off chance they have vervain, I need to act like I have a reason to be going up to them, especially if there are any cameras around here," I told him, glancing down at my chest and the exposed edges of my lilac bra.

The air seemed to leave Stiles in a puff, then there was another squeaky noise as he tried to breathe in. I raised an eyebrow at him and Scott, who was politely staring at a lamppost across the street. Stiles was still wheezing a moment later, and I glanced up at him worriedly. He was staring resolutely at his shoes, that wave of colour once again creeping up from below his collar.

"Oh please, like you've never seen breasts before," I said casually, rolling my eyes and prodding the edges of the mounds, making them bounce slightly. I had to admit, for my age, they were pretty damn good. I smirked at my own pathetic joke. Scott sniggered awkwardly and Stiles flushed an even darker shade, glaring at his best friend in betrayal. "Oh," I mumbled, blinking at Stiles in surprise.

Stiles was a virgin.

Suddenly I understood why he got so uncomfortable when I stripped down or referred to it. I'd always known he was pure, I just hadn't known it was this much.

"Look, are you going to compel the guards or what?" Stiles snapped irritably, crossing his arms over his chest.

"On it," I nodded, suddenly feeling lighter than usual. There was a fluttering in my chest that I knew couldn't possibly be my unbeating heart. I spun around, striding across the road, forcing myself not to look back at the staring boys.

I approached the policemen slowly, a wide, breathtaking smile pasted forcibly on my lips. Purposefully making my shoes slap against the pavement, they looked up as I neared them. "Hello boys," I greeted with a saccharine smile. "Could I have your help with something?"

"Ma'am?" the stockier one on the left said questioningly, tilting his head and fixing me with a dull hazel stare.

"I need to borrow your vehicle," I told him, drawing him in easily, feeling the faint connection slap into place. The skinnier one to the right stepped forwards, but with a glance I had him under my control too. "If you'd be so kind as to hand over the keys?" I asked, holding out my hand, keeping the grin on my lips. Skinny pulled out a simple black leather keyring from his pocket, handing it over without a word. "Forget I was here," I ordered them. "All you know is that the van went missing, and you don't know who took it."

"We don't know who took it," the heavier one parroted, and I blinked, instantly releasing them from my hold.

"Good boys," I smirked, lifting my hand to shoe them away. "Now run along."

They turned around, striding back into the building with dazed expressions on their stupid faces.

I spun back to face the boys who had clamoured out of the shadows, grinning at me widely. My lips twitched up and I couldn't be bothered forcing my smile down as I held up the keys to them, and they glinted in the streetlight. "Wanna go for a ride?" I asked cheekily, and the two glanced at each other with human smirks. Stiles reached out to take the keys, but I pulled my hand back, taking them with me. "I'm driving."


"You could have gone to school, you know," Stiles told me casually as he jumped out of the back of the transport vehicle. I flashed a wide smirk at Jackson just before the doors shut in his face, enjoying the rage displayed on his chiselled features.

"And leave you out here all on your lonesome?" I asked rhetorically, letting my head bump against the tree trunk I was leaning against and puffing idly on my cigarette. He shot me an exasperated look. "I've been to high school a dozen times," I told him softly, changing tactics. "It's not like I'm missing out on anything crucial. And it's not exactly like I have a future I can fuck up."

He winced like he'd been stung but the expression dropped before I could ponder it further. "You know, smoking is a disgusting habit," he said, grimacing pointedly at the cigarette I had pinned between two fingers. "It's not very good for you either."

"Says the boy who once ate seven cups of chilli-cheese fries in one sitting," I drawled teasingly. He looked like he wanted to argue, but I continued before he had the chance. "It's not doing me any harm. The damage from the smoke heals instantly."

"Why do you do it then?" he asked curiously. "Surely it can't be the taste."

I chuckled, "No, definitely not the taste. It's the chemicals, they calm me down, help with the cravings."

It was quiet for a moment, Stiles tapping his fingers against the side of the van, passing the time with as little insanity as he could. "Why doesn't Jackson's venom work on you?"

I glanced up at him in surprise. I hadn't really thought about it, but from what little I did know about vampiric biology, I was able to piece together a somewhat coherent explanation. "Because our heart doesn't pump blood, the venom didn't move around my body, therefore not giving it the chance to paralyse me," I explained. "After a while, of course, it sinks into the pores, slowing the healing process." He tilted his head, frowning as he tried to understand my words.

"But the cigarettes...?"

"Airborne and edible substances affect us. Injections and venoms don't."

He seemed to take that in, nodding slowly as he thought it over. "That makes sense," he finally decided but continued to frown.

"What?" I asked hesitantly, crushing the smoke in my hand and letting it drop to the earth.

"Why didn't you offer your blood to heal me?" he asked after a long moment, and I stilled, peering through the daylight at him. "A few days ago, after everything that happened at the pool," he elaborated needlessly. "It heals wounds, that's what you said; that your blood heals all wounds."

"Come on," I sighed, forcing a carefree smile onto my lips, no matter how difficult it was to do so. "Since when are you one for chick-flick-bare-your-soul-and-deep-and-meaningful-conversations?"

"Juliet."

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. I met his brown eyes, and I watched him worriedly. I could go forty-eight hours without sleep no problem, but Stiles had deep, dark circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted. I decided not to comment on it, however, I knew he wouldn't take it well.

"If you die with vampire blood in your system, it triggers the change," I told him, remembering the day so many weeks ago when I'd told him the same thing. "What if you got into a car crash on the way home? What if you slipped and fell? What if one of the hundreds of possible things happened to you while my blood was in your system?"

He didn't reply for a while, frowning uncharacteristically at the ground. "You'd rather me be dead for good than be a vampire?"

I flinched like I'd been struck. The thought of Stiles dead in any way, shape or form absolutely killed me, made me ache deep in my hollow chest. "Of course not," I breathed, taking a step away from the tree, tiptoeing closer to the tired boy. "I assumed that's what you'd rather."

"Why would I want that?" he asked as I came to a stop beside him, blinking up into his eyes.

I shrugged, not having a good answer. "Maybe I was just projecting," I said pathetically, trying to smile, the expression falling flat.

Something like pain crossed his face, and he took a step closer, arms wrapping around my shoulders as he pulled me into a hug. I stayed frozen for a long moment before finally relaxing into the embrace. My face tucked naturally into his neck, and I found that although the ache of hunger was there, it was easily ignorable. I breathed in his scent, moving passed the allure of the blood and focusing instead on the smell of curly fries and mint and chocolate that seemed to cling to him constantly. An odd combination, but not an entirely unpleasant one.

My arms moved up to wrap around his neck and his moved down to my waist. He seemed to press his lips to my crown, and I smiled into his collarbone, listening to his heavy breathing and racing heart.

The sound of footsteps met my ears, but I ignored them, unwilling to pull myself from the warm boy's embrace.

"Hey," Allison said awkwardly, and Stiles jumped a mile high, ripping away from me like he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. My arms dropped uselessly to my sides, and I felt confusingly cold without the contact.

"Oh my God," he hissed, whirling around to glare at the pretty human girl.

"They know."

"What?"

"They know Jackson's missing!"

"No, they can't, I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue."

"My grandfather told me his parents went to the police," she corrected him seriously, glancing over her shoulder as though worried we were somehow being watched. "They know."

Stiles pulled the phone we stole off of Jackson out of his pocket, staring down at the little square of technology in something akin to horror. He dropped it instantly, and I plucked it out of the air, saving it from smashing on the hard ground. He darted into the cab of the van, picking up the radio and turning it on.

We listened in matching winces as the officer on the frequency instructed all units to our approximate location.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Allison asked, tugging her beanie tighter around her head. The two of them turned to look at me expectantly.

"We have to get out of here," I said, already on my way to the driver's side of the car. "I'll take the van with Allison, Stiles, you can drive your Jeep so you don't have to leave it here."

"Do you have any idea where to go? You barely know how to get from school to your house," Stiles said, and I grit my teeth, not appreciating the way he was always underestimating me.

"I may not know the town very well," I responded. "But I spend a hell of a lot of time in the woods. I know all the good hiding spots."

He seemed reluctant, but it didn't take long to convince him to follow my lead. Grumbling under his breath, he moved over to his car, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut after him.

Allison climbed into the passenger seat of the van, glancing into the back anxiously. She was quiet as I steered the car through the trees, heading for the view point in the north. The cops wouldn't expect us to go somewhere so open, so it was probably our best bet.

"So, you and Stiles, huh?"

I didn't bother replying, instead just staring straight ahead into the forest, the lighting orange from the slowly setting sun.

"I definitely approve," she continued lightly, clearly trying to gain a response.

"Oh, thank goodness for that," I drawled flatly, going for mean and scathing, but apparently hitting amusing, as she giggled. "There is no me and Stiles," I said, deciding that I'd better put some effort into denying it. "There never will be."

"You guys are insanely cute though," she told me with a blinding grin. I refused to glance at her, but she wasn't so easily deterred. "He's different around you. Not in a bad way – he's still Stiles, when is he not? – but he's...calmer. He's more at peace. Which I find strange considering you don't exactly give off a calming aura," she chuckled, expecting me to laugh along with her.

I shot her a flat, unimpressed look.

"See, that's what I mean," she said passionately. "Lydia once told me never to frown because 'somebody could be falling in love with your smile'." I looked over at her once more, this time with my sharpest and absolute darkest smirk fixed on my lips. She sighed, shaking her head, though not seeming too annoyed by it. "We'll work on it," she told me reassuringly.

I glanced away, allowing a brief but sincere grin to sit on my lips for a good few seconds before covering it with an indifferent stare. I wouldn't for a second let her know that I actually liked her.


The cab of the Jeep was silent, nothing but the beat of Stiles' heart and the rumbling of the engine meeting my sensitive hearing. I sure as hell wasn't going to be the first one to speak, and every now and then Stiles would open his mouth, freeze, then mumble incoherently before slipping back into silence again.

I felt bad for the kid, in a way. He had no idea why I wasn't talking to him like usual. He'd tried at first, joking about Jackson's genitalia and it's surrounding area. He was only met with stony silence. He hadn't done anything to deserve it either.

It was all Allison's fault.

I was happy living in ignorant bliss, spending time with Stiles without the terrifying pressure of...feelings and attraction. I mean, come on, it was Stiles. Not only was he a spastic, hyperactive, mess of a teenager, he was so very human.

I'd been in love before. 200 plus years, it'd come up once or twice. There was Joshua in the 50's, Alex in the 70's, Christoph in 86' and Logan in 97'. My brief fling with the oldest Salvatore sometime early last century which hadn't lasted long but ended up in something I was kind of confident in calling a friendship. There was also, of course, the very first one. My first love. And, to be honest, the only one I could say was real. The jackass who turned me. He and his bloody family...

I snapped back to reality before the nightmares could take hold, jolting myself back into the familiar Jeep, finding myself glaring out the window with my hands curled into fists. I relaxed, taking a deep breath more for comfort than necessity, inhaling Stiles' mouthwatering scent.

Was there something between Stiles and I?

Sure, vampires had flings with humans all the time, it was all part of the fun, but I didn't plan on sleeping with Stiles multiple times until eventually draining him dry.

I cringed at my mental innuendo.

It would never work, of course I wasn't even sure if I wanted it to work. It was Stiles.

"What do you want?"

My head snapped to the left, blinking with wide eyes at the waiting driver, staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. How had he known? Did I speak aloud?

"From the drive-through," he elaborated when met with my blank expression. I looked past him, eyes focusing on the speaker box we were parked beside, the crackle of the speakers making me twitch.

"Nothing," I answered him simply, wondering why he'd asked at all. He knew I didn't eat human food.

He rolled his eyes, a meek smile appearing on his lips as he pushed through the awkwardness I was causing. "Come on," he prompted. "I know you like Burger King, just pick something." I shot him a look complete with narrowed eyes. "I know you don't need it, would you just pick something already?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said simply, and though he looked exasperated, he leaned back out the window and ordered our meals, as well as extra for Scott and Allison.

I took the bags from him once we drove away, balancing them in my lap as I stared out the window at the darkness, finding comfort in how it pressed around me, keeping me safe and hidden. I guess that was another thing that didn't mix well between Stiles and I.

I was made for darkness, he belonged in the light.

I didn't want to ask, but I knew I didn't really have a choice, it would continue to gnaw at me unless I heard the truth for myself.

"Why are you wearing the vervain?"

Stiles jumped when I spoke, having gotten so used to my silence. He took a moment to process what I'd asked him, and once he did his heart sped up.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No!" I didn't jump, but I did flinch as his desperate yell filled the cab of his Jeep. "Of course I'm not afraid of you Jules," he said with conviction, looking away from the dark road to glace at me, my face barely illuminated by his headlights.

"You just don't trust me."

I couldn't blame him, no matter how much I wanted to. "I trust you more than anyone," he insisted, and though I knew that was a blatant lie, I kept my lips sealed. "It's others of your kind that I don't trust."

I felt relieved by his words, but I couldn't help still feeling somewhat upset. He didn't like my kind, so why would he like me? How would he ever accept me?

He wouldn't. And he shouldn't ever have to.

"You know that, right?" he spoke up when I said nothing. "You know I'm not afraid of you?" I refused to open my mouth. "Hate to break it to you Jules, but you're not actually all that scary-" I cut him off with my most lethal glare, lip curling back as I flashed him my fangs. "-okay, so maybe you're a little scary." I sank back into the seat, turning to glare out the window and putting my fangs away. "But-but it doesn't matter if you're scary, because I trust you, and that's what matters."

I wasn't sure how to reply to his sincere words, already uncomfortable with the heartfelt declaration. "Whatever you say, kid."

It was quiet again, neither of us sure what to say after that mess of a conversation. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the trees fly past as Stiles drove us up the mountain, through the forest. We parked opposite the van, and as soon as I cracked the door I was hit with a face-full of stench.

"Ugh," I blurted in disgust, jumping from the car to glare at Scott's car sitting across the small clearing.

"What?" Stiles asked worriedly.

"It reeks of werewolf sex," I cringed, making a point to breathe through my mouth to avoid getting hit with the scent. I tilted my head, focusing on Jackson, making sure the little prick was okay.

Nothing.

"Stiles," I said, disappearing from view only to reappear in front of the broken back doors of the police transport vehicle, staring at the empty inside with a scowl. "We have a problem."