Run boy be a man

With legs too weak to make a stand

We're all crucified in the end

Can you hear a voice

Decipher it through all this noise

You'll be left with nothing again

Absolution – The Pretty Reckless


It was ironic that my most and least favourite colour was blood red.

Despite my mixed feelings on the shade, I painted it onto my lips, rubbing them together to make an even texture. I heard the tyres on the asphalt and the familiar creak of the brakes of Stiles' Jeep, and made a mental note to remind him to check the brake pads. I threw my leather jacket over a short, strapless mint dress that I'd dug out from the depths of my closet and shoved some dangly gold earrings in my pierced ears in an attempt at classing up my outfit. I slipped my feet into the black heeled boots I loved so much, eternally grateful for my enhanced sense of balance.

I figured that I wouldn't need anything, so I merely shoved my phone in the breast pocket of my jacket and made my way downstairs, slipping out the front door, locking it behind me and appearing in the passenger seat of the Jeep just as Stiles was preparing to get out to come fetch me.

"Jesus," he shrieked when the sound of the door clicking shut met his ears and he noticed me sitting beside him.

"I prefer to go by Juliet," I responded cheekily, tilting my head and smirking widely.

His heart was racing from the shock, but I was surprised when it didn't immediately slow to a regular speed, instead only speeding up more as he stared at me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously, smirk melting into a concerned frown.

He cleared his throat, blinking quickly before his gaze darted to my still lawn. "Nothing," he lied, but I was willing to let it go, doubting it was anything serious. He took my silence as disapproval, and sighed, wincing as he elaborated. "You've just never worn your hair like that," he said, toying with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of his flannel as he referred to the way all my hair except my bangs was pinned in an artfully messy bun at the back of my head.

"Allison said the attire was smart-casual," I said, eyeing his wardrobe choice. Was this one of those practical joke things the kids these days loved so much?

"It looks good," his voice broke slightly on the last word, and I charitably ignored it. His words were obviously meant to reassure me, and I let it, shrugging as he pulled out of the drive, heading onto the main road, out of the slumps and towards the fancy side of town. "So they brought Harris in for questioning," he told me after a beat, heart rate slowly returning to normal.

"Why?"

"Because they found evidence that put him at the scene of three of the murders," he replied.

I paused. "I don't think it's him."

"Me either."

"I'm not going to help him out though."

"Me neither," he was silent for a moment, turning up the heat and holding his hand in front of the vent for a moment. "There's more."

"Oh boy," I muttered, turning more in the seat to look at him, giving him my full attention.

"We figured out how all the victims are connected."

I grimaced when he didn't elaborate. "And?" I prompted eagerly.

"They were all on the swim team."

I didn't say anything for a moment, processing his words. "What about Lahey?"

"He was the coach," he told me.

I considered his words, something occurring to me. "It's awfully ironic that whoever is controlling the kanima has a fear of water and everyone they're killing was on the swim team," I said, and he nodded in agreement.

"It can't be a coincidence."

We were quiet, the only sounds filling the cab of the Jeep were Stiles' heartbeat and the soft tinkling of the jazz coming from the speakers. I did a double-take, eyes narrowing at the sound system thoughtfully. "Is this Sonny Rollins?" I asked a moment later, head tilting as I listened with consideration. "Since when do you listen to smooth jazz?"

I glanced at Stiles curiously, only to see familiar red blotches appear on his pale, freckle-splattered skin. "I know it's your one of your favourites, so I've been researching a bit. I found this great local station that plays jazz 24/7, I figured you'd enjoy it," he shrugged like it was no big deal.

But it was.

He'd noticed something about me, then he'd found out everything he could about my interest and went to the trouble of changing his daily routine to do something nice for me. His blotchy patches hadn't faded yet, so I decided a change of subject would be the best course of action, lest things get uncomfortable.

"Are we going to mention the elephant in the room?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Stiles jerked the wheel to the left, sending us into the opposite lane for a moment before he regained control and veered back into the correct side, the car behind him honking loudly. "What?" he asked sketchily, glancing over at me with wide eyes and pretending the entire thing didn't just happened.

To my credit, I didn't show how alarmed I felt, merely raising an eyebrow in question. I hesitated before speaking up, wondering what the hell exactly was going on. "The massive box in the backseat?" I prompted cautiously, wondering if he was going to have yet another overdramatic reaction.

"Oh!" he breathed, seeming relieved by my words. I frowned, filing that away for later. "It's Lydia's birthday present. What'd you get her?"

"Nothing," I replied simply, giving a careless shrug.

He shot me an appalled look. "You're going to her birthday party, and you're not even taking her a gift?"

"So sue me," I muttered offendedly, crossing my arms and staring out the window into the dark night.

"I don't get it," he said suddenly, checking over his shoulder before switching lanes. "Why do you hate her so much?"

I was reminded of our conversation about Erica only days before, and I found myself annoyed that I had to keep defending my opinions about the people around me. "Uh, she's shallow and vapid," I said easily, lip curling at the mere thought of the girl.

"Yeah, at first glance," he said defensively, hands tightening on the wheel. "But on first impression, you're not very likeable either." I glared irritably, but he barrelled on, oblivious as always. "I mean, completely unlikeable. You don't seem to have any redeemable qualities other than your looks. Seriously, you just come across as plain awful-"

"I get it," I snapped, hands balling into angry fists, crossing one bare leg over the other, sending him a death glare through the dark cab.

"My point is," he continued seriously, glancing at me for no more than a second before returning his gaze to the road. "You seem like that at first, but then you get to know you and you're full of compassion. I mean, sure, you have a weird kink for torture and you get this weird smile every time someone mentions being in pain, but you're only like that with people who – kind of – deserve it. When it comes to friends, and innocents, you have this incredible compassion that's like nothing I've ever seen. And you're loyal, I've never met anyone so loyal. You're a vampire who's part of a werewolf pack, because you formed a friendship with a beta, and you're protecting your friends and all the things they hold dear.

"It's crazily brave, everything you do. I mean, one bite from one of them and you're gone, but you still stay. And you're strong. I mean, a vampire on a diet? I can't imagine how hard it is to resist blood, to resist killing people when every instinct in you is screaming to do the opposite..."

He trailed off, staring at the road in front of us with a far-off look in his eyes. I wondered whether it was safe for him to be so distracted, but he seemed to be driving in a straight line well enough, so I let it go.

Now that I had a second to process, I had to stop myself from panicking.

What the fuck just happened?

One minute we were talking about Lydia and how much I disliked her, the next he was listing all the things he...admired about me? It was a strange direction for the conversation to go, and I couldn't help the warm glow I felt in my gut at it. He really noticed things about me, picked up on things I didn't even know I was putting out. I stared down at my hands, a small smile growing on my lips. I could have stopped it and forced my usual impassive stare onto my face. But I decided to allow myself the small pleasure of a smile for once.

Although Stiles was clearly distracted, he managed to drive us to Lydia's house without incident, pulling up on the curb outside her house and turning off the ignition, hands going limp in his lap.

"Stiles?" I asked hesitantly, reaching across the cab to lightly touch his shoulder. His head snapped towards me, and he blinked, eyes alight with despair and confusion. I frowned worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"What?" he asked dumbly, caramel eyes focused on me.

"We're at Lydia's house," I said, and he glanced back out the windscreen, seeming surprised that we were at our destination.

"Lydia!" he said suddenly, eyes wide. He tried to rip off his seatbelt, but it got stuck, and he tugged at it frantically, trying to get free. Still frowning, I reached across and hit the button calmly, watching as it clicked open smoothly. He didn't stop or even thank me, merely tripping from the car and moving to the back, taking the large present from the backseat and hoisting it up in his arms. "Are you coming or what, Juliet?" he asked loudly, and I cringed at the way he said my name.

I slipped from the Jeep gracefully, heels clicking on the pavement as I made my way up to the front door, following the path Stiles had taken.

He stopped at the door, realising he didn't have enough hands to ring the doorbell and hold the oversized wrapped gift. "Can-can you?" he asked, bobbing his head towards the bell.

I sighed, rolling my eyes and pressing the button, listening as the sound echoed through the house.

"Happy birthday," he sang the moment the door was pulled open, lowering the box just enough so you could spot his face, a bright grin on his face, though I felt like it was covering something heavier. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but we were in neither the right time or place. "I'm coming in," he announced, stepping forwards, only to be blocked, the door being narrower than the present in his arms. "Uh-hang on," he muttered with a concentrated frown, shoving the box through the doorway, the wrapping crinkling as he forced it.

Lydia closed her eyes, clearly praying for patience. Maybe we weren't so different after all. "Don't forget to try the punch!" she called, turning around and strutting from the room, leaving Stiles to struggle all by his lonesome.

I stepped forwards, pressing my hand to the side next to his face and giving it a hard shove. Stiles, still attached to the box, stumbled through the door, dropping it on the ground. He pushed it out of the way, dusted his hands off with a satisfied smile then turned to walk into the house.

"Stiles?" I asked, he paused then turned around, seeming almost reluctant to do so.

"Yeah?" he asked with forced casualness.

My only reply was to press my hand against the barrier preventing me from entering the home, my skin fanning out like it was being pressed to glass, although it was merely air.

"Oh," he mumbled in realisation.

"Are we going to call her back so she can invite me in, or...?"

His hands shot to his hips as he assessed the situation. "It might make her suspicious," he said with a frown.

"And me standing out in the cold during her party won't?" I countered with raised eyebrows.

"Go around back," he finally suggested, pointing to the edge of the house and the small gate that sat there. "I think it'll mostly be held in the backyard, and you can go there without an invite, right?"

"Should be fine," I nodded, turning around without further comment and walking around the side, pushing open the small metal gate and walking through the damp grass until I made my way into the backyard, hands tucked into the pockets of my leather jacket.

There weren't as many people in attendance as Stiles had made it seem like there would be. I could count the amount of people there on my hands, and the ones I could name on only my left.

Allison.

"Hi," I greeted her politely, walking at an agonisingly slow, human pace to meet her where she stood by the pool.

"Oh thank God," she said upon seeing me, a small, forced smile on her lips. "Finally someone I can stand."

"I know how you feel," I muttered, gazing at the tiny group of strangers with contempt. "The snake here yet?" I asked, instinctively sniffing the air to see if I could pick up his usual overpowering cologne.

"No," she replied. "Not yet, anyway." She sighed tiredly, running a hand over her hair to smooth away any errant strands. "Did you come with Stiles?"

"Yeah."

"I love what you're wearing, by the way. It's classy, but it's still you."

"Are you implying that I'm not inherently classy?" I asked in a tight tone, eyes dark, making her own eyes widen, actually worried she'd offended me. "I'm kidding," I chuckled suddenly, allowing a small smile to grace by blood red lips.

"There're the boys," she said, a small smile on her lips too, though it quickly disappeared from existence. "Uh, Jackson's not here," she muttered to them once we'd gotten within hearing range, both boys nodding.

"No one's here," Stiles commented, and I had to admit he was correct.

"Maybe it's just early," Scott suggested weakly.

"Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia's turning into the town whack-job," he countered scathingly, and I didn't bother hiding the smirk that appeared on my lips.

"Well we have to do something, because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks," Allison, ever the kind one, said, gaze sliding to where the girl stood all alone, a tray full of punch in her palm.

"She's completely ignored Stiles the last ten years," Scott retorted, and my smirk only grew.

"I prefer to think of it as me not having been on her radar yet..."

"We don't owe her a party," he continued, ignoring his best friend, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

"What about the chance to get back to normal?"

"Normal?"

"She wouldn't be the town whack-job if it wasn't for us," she said, a crease appearing on the smooth skin between her brows.

"I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here," he relented with a sigh, cringing at the thought.

"Yeah, I also know some people who could get this thing going. Like, really going," Stiles said, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

"Who?"

"I met them the other night. Let's just say they know how to party."

They all looked at me expectantly, and I raised my eyebrows, confused. "What?" I asked obliviously. Stiles' expression flattened into a pointed frown and I realised what they were waiting for. "Hate to break it to you, but the only places I go are home and school. I don't exactly have a wide network. Or any network. My network is the people on this deck."

"That's so sad," Stiles mumbled sympathetically, and I curled back my lip slightly, exposing the tips of my fangs and shooting him a lethal glare. His heart stuttered and he wandered away, pressing his phone up to his ear, trying to look more busy than he actually was.

Damn kid.


"So anyway, then the lady says to me 'Sir, you can't smoke that in here, not only is it against regulation, it's illegal'."

I didn't bother faking interest, merely sipping my punch and staring across the yard at Stiles, who was talking animatedly to Scott.

I couldn't help but admire the way his cheeks flushed as he gestured dramatically. He was so very...alive. He was the opposite of me in almost every way, so it was odd that I found myself so attracted to him.

Was that what it was? Attraction?

It was good to finally put a word to what I was experiencing.

Sure, I'd been through it before with countless people over the years, but it'd never been like this before. At least, not since Klaus. I suppose there hadn't been anyone in my life since I'd flicked the humanity switch, so now I was experiencing feelings in a way I hadn't since I was human, or even more so, if you took into account the way vampires experienced heightened emotions.

I took another sip of the punch, eyes never leaving Stiles even as I grimaced at the taste. It wasn't exactly appetising, but it gave me something to do, let me get away with not replying to people.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I huffed, turning to face the stoned boy, annoyed. "Leave me alone," I ordered him, meeting his eyes and doing my own little party trick. He immediately shut up, spinning on his heel and striding away, off to bother somebody else. With a relieved sigh I leaned back against the pillar, cocking my head as I thoughtlessly continued to listen in on Stiles and Scott's conversation.

"I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you hadn't noticed. People are dying, I got my dad fired, you're getting held back in school, after ten years of being infatuated with Lydia I think I might have fallen in love with a vampire, and if on top of all that I've gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, then I'm going to stab myself in the face."

The sound of breaking glass met my ears and the chatter around me instantly came to a halt. I noticed an irritating stinging sensation in my palm and I glanced down to see the glass of punch I'd been holding in shards, some cutting into my skin. I stared, unable to process anything that had just happened.

"Are you okay darling?" A Queen asked me, appearing at my side, taking my hand in hers and peering at the gashes. I numbly unclenched my hand, letting the shards fall to the concrete.

"I'm fine," I assured her tonelessly.

She started to protest, but I merely ignored her, spinning around and striding towards the house. I was surprised when I hit an invisible barrier, and hissed in anger when I realised what the problem was. I took a deep, steadying breath, walking over to the pool, uncaring that I was getting strange looks as I dipped it in the water, letting it cleanse my wounds.

Once the gashes were free of glass they started healing, but I doubted anyone would come close enough to notice. Besides, I had more important things on my mind to worry about something so small.

Stiles thought he was in love with me?

My first thought was one of pleasure. I was happy that he loved me. But then the harsh reality kicked in, and I felt merely numb and void. It didn't matter in the end, nothing could ever happen. Sure, I'd had flings with humans in the past, most sexual and based on bloodlust and manipulation, but I knew it was possible. But Stiles didn't deserve that, he needed more out of life than a girl forever frozen in her teens, whose heart didn't even beat.

I was still crouched by the water, lost in my thoughts when a hand dropped onto my shoulder. I jumped, startled by the touch, pushing myself to my feet and gazing at Stiles cooly. "Jackson's here," he said, unaffected by my stare.

Instantly I switched gears. Priorities, Juliet.

"What do we do?"

"There's nothing we can do," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. "Just keep an eye out, see if the master makes an appearance, I guess." I nodded, eyes sweeping the crowd cautiously. "Anyway, I need to find Scott, just wanted to warn you."

"Okay," I said, moving past him, heading for the punch.

"Jules!" he called to me before I could escape, and I looked to him expectantly. "Are you okay?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, but I wasn't in the right headspace to care. "Yes Stiles," I replied robotically, forcing my lips into a hollow grin before turning around and making a beeline for the punch.

I ladled myself another cupful, drinking it down, grimacing at the strange bite it had. There was alcohol, obviously, but there was something else, something sickly sweet.

"Juliet."

I looked up, heart dropping into my stomach as I took in the familiar way my voice was whispered. That voice...

"Juliet."

It was coming from the corner of the yard. It was impossible, I knew that, but I couldn't stop myself from putting down the glass still half full of punch and cautiously making my way towards where the voice was coming from.

"Juliet."

Then he was there, standing in the shadows, suit perfectly unwrinkled, devious smirk in place. My eyes filled with tears and my hands balled into fists. It was all I could do to say his name through dry, parted lips. "Klaus."

"Hello Juliet," he greeted me calmly, handsome, if not more, as he ever was.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked furiously, unwilling to look away, not trusting him not to run. I had to check that Stiles was okay. I had to know he was safe. Against my better judgement, I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the crowd for my pale friend. I could see people in all directions, but they were fuzzy and out of focus. I couldn't hear anything but the murmurs of my maker.

"Looking for Stiles?"

My head snapped back to face him, teary glare firmly in place. "How do you-?"

"Know about Stiles?" he asked with that familiar smirk. "I know everything about you Juliet. I always have, and I always will. You know that." He tilted his head in a predatory way. It took a lot to spook me. Not even murderous alphas could do it. But this one Original? Every cell in me was terrified. "Not to worry, your little human boyfriend is perfectly fine. I haven't hurt a hair on his head...yet."

"If you touch him-"

"You'll...what?" he questioned, blue eyes narrowing. "You'll kill me? You know I can't be killed."

"I'll find a way."

"Now now Juliet, it's been so long since we last spoke. Let's not spend our time together fighting."

"Go fuck yourself." My hands were shaking, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make them stop. Klaus' smirk only widened, like he was enjoying this. He probably was.

Dick.

I couldn't help myself. My arm moved without my consent. All I knew was that a second later I was swinging, only instead of meeting cheekbone I met thin air. I steadied myself, frowning at the space Klaus had only just been occupying. He was fast, but he wasn't that fast.

"Jules!" I jumped, sinning around and throwing another punch. Scott caught my fist, frowning at me worriedly. All at once the loud sounds of the party hit me, and I blinked. I swallowed thickly, wincing apologetically. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not real," he told me surely.

Ah, that made more sense.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked carefully, voice overflowing with barely contained anger.

"We'll figure that out, but first I need your help sobering up Stiles," he told me seriously.

"Where is he?"

"By the pool."

I was there in the next moment, crouched beside Stiles who was staring unseeingly into the distance. "Stiles?" I asked hesitantly, leaning into his line of sight. He didn't seem to notice I was there at all. I was still rattled from my Klaus-hallucination, but Stiles was more important than my pesky emotions. I brought my hands up, pressing my palms to his cheeks and tilting his head up. "Stiles?" I was beginning to get worried now.

"What do you think you're doing?" a new voice asked, and I glared at the girl for the interruption. "If you want to sober him up fast, that's not the way to do it."

"You can do better?" Scott asked, preventing me from snapping rudely, which was probably in everyone's best interest.

"I can do best," she responded confidently, ripping Stiles from my gentle hold and shoving him head first in the cold pool water. I wanted to shout at her, but Scott held my arm, silently telling me to allow it. It was difficult to listen, but I knew Scott was probably right. "How do you feel?" she asked once Stiles was back upright, spluttering and dripping wet.

"Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl."

"He's sober," she declared with a nod.

"Thank you," Scott told her, but I wasn't in the mood, taking Stiles by the arm and gently hauling him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, clutching his shoulders, staring up into his caramel eyes worriedly.

"I will be," he said reassuringly, and because we were on a clock, it would just have to do. I nodded, glancing at Scott as he slid to his feet.

"We need to find Lydia," he told us both seriously. "Juliet, you check around the front, Stiles and I will look inside."

"You got it," I responded with a nod, squeezing Stiles' shoulders once more, hoping it was in some way comforting. He shot me an unsteady smile, watching as I spun around and headed for the gate.

Lydia wasn't out the front of her house, and she wasn't in any of the surrounding cars either. I frowned, cocking my head to the side and sniffing the air. I couldn't tell which scent was hers, the whole place stunk of alcohol and perfume. I scowled, darting back around to the backyard, meeting up with Stiles and Scott by the edge of the pool.

"Find her?" I asked, though I could see on their faces that they hadn't.

"She's not anywhere," Stiles said, huffing with frustration. "Can you pick up her scent?"

"Not on top of everything else."

"Guys, anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out," he continued, surveying the surrounding group of crazed teens with narrowed eyes. If whatever it was had affected me, then it sure as hell would have affected the humans, particularly Stiles. I wondered what he hallucinated.

I watched detachedly as people began throwing their friends into the pool, frowning in displeasure as the splash wet my bare legs.

"What the hell do we do?"

Before Scott or I could answer him, there was a loud cry, "I can't swim!"

All of our heads snapped to the source of the scream, eyes sliding to Matt's struggling form, desperately trying to get out of the guy's arms. I watched impassively as they threw him into the water. Stiles was right, looked like Matt wasn't all that innocent after all. None of us moved, watching as the boy struggled to reach the top of the water, gasping for breath.

I contemplated getting him out, but if he really was the kanima's master then I owed him absolutely nothing. Luckily – well, lucky for him I suppose – Jackson crouched beside the water, reaching in nonchalantly and pulling the drowning boy from the depths, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing.

He looked like a drowned rat, water dropping from his soaked clothes. "What are you looking at?" he snapped irritably as everyone from the party stared shamelessly. He glared at anyone who met his eyes, stomping off in what happened to be our direction. We didn't budge, standing right where we were, preventing him from getting through.

I knew I couldn't expose myself, but my lip still curled back as I growled at him warningly under my breath. He swallowed and continued to glower, shoving passed Stiles and Scott rudely, rushing to the doorway.

Before any of us could comment on what we had just seen, a loud siren broke the air. "Cops are here!" an older guy yelled, and all at once everyone was scrambling to get out to escape the police. I sighed with aggravation, my initial instinct to protect Stiles. I grabbed his arm, ignoring the alarmed shout he gave, lifted him up. He shut his eyes for a moment as he felt the earth drop from under him, and when he opened his eyes again, he was sitting in his Jeep, curled up on the drivers seat.

"What?" he asked in confusion as I tugged his keys free from his pocket, handing them to him carefully. "But Scott-"

"Can take care of himself," I said deliberately. "Now drive."

And he did.