You, got me caught in all this mess.
I guess, we can blame it on the rain.
My pain is knowing I can't have you,
I can't have you.
Blame It On The Rain – He Is We
Stiles wasn't coping.
I could see it in the way he stared into space, his heart always racing like he was in a state of constant terror. It was the third time in as many days that he'd come around to my house, preferring to spend the days in the aftermath of that night at the station with me (though God only knew why my presence helped him). He even skipped school to do so, asking me to compel the missing days off his record once I'd healed enough to be seen in public.
I was drinking about five blood bags a day, trying to push my body to heal the gory gashes running from my temple to my chin. They were finally starting to close up, though every time Stiles looked at me I could see him struggling not to gag.
Most days passed without conversation, I could tell Stiles wasn't ready to talk about everything. He would perch on the ground next to my coffee table, scribbling away at the homework his teachers had been emailing him while I reclined on my couch, sipping blood and reading books, pausing only to change the record in the player.
It was exceptionally peaceful, if not a little disconcerting. I wasn't used to spending time with Stiles when we didn't talk, the kid always had something to say; a question to ask, a snarky comment to make. He had been even more quiet after it was revealed that Matt had died the same night everything had happened; he was drowned in a river. Ironic, really.
Now, on the fourth day after the 'incident', I sat beside Stiles at his lunch table, watching as he absentmindedly chewed on the disgusting looking mac and cheese that was being served that day. I numbly rubbed a hand over the newly healed skin of my left cheek, annoyed with the fact that I no longer had an excuse to stay away from school.
I glanced to the far corner, where Allison sat next to Lydia, frowning at the textbook in front of her, focusing on her work while the redhead stared into space in a similar manner to Stiles. Scott was nowhere to be found, in fact I hadn't even spoken to him since that night, only spotting him briefly in the hall earlier that day.
I still didn't know why Stiles chose to spend time with me instead of his best friend. I wondered if something had happened that I didn't know about, but Stiles insisted that they were just busy dealing with their own lives.
I looked at Stiles again, emerald eyes tracking over the constellations of moles on his handsome face. "I think you should see the guidance officer," I said bluntly, and he paused his chewing for a moment, turning his head to the side to look at me.
"No thank you," he responded, surprisingly politely.
"Well, you've barely said a word in days," I argued softly, unthinkingly curling my fingers around his bicep, hoping the contact would help get through to him. "If you won't talk to me, you need to at least talk to someone."
"You're preaching to me about emotional availability?" he asked sharply, putting down his plastic fork and turning slightly on the bench to frown directly at me. "I'm not even sure you have emotions."
My jaw clicked as I ground my teeth together. I wasn't sure why his accusation hurt so much. He was right, on a level. I didn't have emotions, not in the beautifully human way he did. I suppose that's what it came down to; my lack of humanity. It hadn't really been brought up in the few short months that we'd been friends, it was like there was an invisible line that neither of us wanted to cross, neither of us wanting to acknowledge how very inhuman I was.
I knew the dig was a tactic meant to push me away, keep himself at a safe distance. I was all too familiar with the move, considering I practically invented it, and I wasn't about to let him pull it on me. "I'm worried about you," I pressed on, refusing to let him win.
Something in his eyes softened as he looked at me, and I pursed my lips, leaning in closer and resting my chin on his shoulder. He didn't tense like most humans did upon contact with me, instead leaning closer as though he couldn't help it. I had to repress a smug smirk at the movement.
"Please go see the guidance officer?" I tried again, meeting his coffee eyes.
"It's not like I can talk about anything with her," he replied grouchily, narrowing his eyes at the spongey looking mac and cheese in front of him. "I can't talk about my real problems."
"It'll be better than nothing."
He sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. Finally, after a long minute of intense deliberation, he nodded, and I pulled back from his shoulder, smiling gently. "Okay," he agreed. "Only if you see her too."
I hesitated, my victory suddenly dampened. "Uh, no," I said immediately, grimacing at the thought.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't need to talk to anyone about my problems. Scratch that, I don't even have any problems to talk about," I responded, picking up his lemonade and taking a sip.
"That's bullshit," he countered, shooting me a severely unimpressed look. "There's got to be something that's bothering you."
He wasn't wrong. It just wasn't what he thought.
Stiles thought he was in love with me. Or, at least, he'd said as much at Lydia's train wreck of a birthday party. Just the thought of it made me pull away from him, putting a foot in between us both, ignoring his confused frown when I did so. "I'm not doing it unless you do it first," he said, choosing not to comment on my move.
I wasn't happy, but I was willingly to compromise. Which is exactly how I found myself perched in a chair opposite the pretty guidance councillor, glaring at her standoffishly as Stiles sat in the waiting area outside of the room.
She and I had been sitting in silence for a good five minutes, if I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have been impressed by how unaffected she was by the glare that could melt diamonds.
I wasn't going to be the one to break the stare, refusing to even blink as I sat stonily before her. A throat cleared from out in the hall, and with a frustrated grunt I broke our staring match, glancing out the window at Stiles, who was staring through the glass at me pointedly, clearly noticing I had yet to talk. I thanked my lucky stars that he was human and therefore had pathetic hearing, meaning he wouldn't be able to catch anything uttered between us women.
"So, Juliet," Ms Morrell began, soft brown, doe-like eyes focused on my porcelain doll features. "Why are you here if you don't have anything to say?"
I grit my teeth, almost deciding not to answer just to spite the psychologist, however one glance at Stiles waiting patiently outside had me pausing, an irritating feeling of guilt clawing at my insides. "My friend needs someone to talk to," I said finally, fixing my cold stare back on the woman. "He'd only come to you if I did so first."
"Considering how much you appear to not want to be here, that must have been a difficult sacrifice to make," she said not unkindly. "You must care about him very much."
"I do," I answered quickly, then furrowed my brow at how ridiculous I sounded.
Ms Morrell seemed to take note of my conflicted expression. "Why don't you take pride in admitting that?" she asked in that light and airy tone, still staring. "It's not a bad thing."
"I'm the bad thing."
I silently cursed myself for speaking, but as I grimaced, I came to a realisation. I didn't have anyone to talk to about this, about what was growing between Stiles and I. I couldn't talk to Scott, because anything I said was sure to make it back to his best friend eventually. Allison was out of the question. Her mother had just died, and even if she hadn't she seemed like the kind of girl who told her boyfriend everything. I had plenty of friends all around the globe, but very little I actually trusted or liked enough to talk to about such an awkward thing as a vampire having feelings for a human.
I could always talk to Stefan Salvatore, I supposed. I remembered his brother telling me that he was having a fling of his own with a human over in Mystic Falls. But I was much closer with the older sibling, and I knew Damon wouldn't like me going to his brother before him. I couldn't go straight to him either, because I knew he'd just laugh.
When it came down to it, the only person I wanted to talk to about it was the very boy himself, but that was out of the question. It would only make him – and myself – uncomfortable.
So maybe talking with the guidance councillor, though I really did detest psychologists, was my best bet. She was impartial, and having someone to bounce off might give me some insight into what was happening. The trick would be explaining it all without mentioning the supernatural.
"You don't think you're good enough for him?" she asked, bringing my attention back into the small, cramped, sage-smelling room.
"I know I'm not good enough for him," I replied tensely, glaring at her. Once again she wasn't intimidated.
"You don't think that's for him to decide?" her head tilted delicately to the side, and I winced at the hidden accusation.
"I'm dangerous," I countered seriously. I may not have liked her, but some deep seeded instinct was telling me that I could trust her – at least with this small truth.
Thankfully she didn't ask questions. "Does he know that?"
"He knows," I tried to explain, not quite sure it was going to cut it. "But he doesn't believe it."
She paused, dark eyes assessing me. "Maybe he sees something in you that you don't."
"It doesn't matter," I shrugged. She didn't say anything, merely staring at me as she waited for me to elaborate. "What if I hurt him?" I asked, eyebrows pulling together at the thought.
"Do you plan to?"
"No!" I answered instantly, eyes blazing with anger at the mere suggestion.
"Juliet," she began, leaning forwards in her seat. I inched back instinctually, glancing at all the exits on the off chance I would need one. "Everyone gets hurt at some point or another. You'll probably hurt him, and he'll no doubt do something to hurt you. No matter how hard you both try not to, it'll happen eventually. It's human nature."
I grit my teeth. But I'm not human, I shouted at her in my head, scowl deepening.
"I have...enemies," I said after a long, silent minute. I watched her closely. That wasn't something the average teenager said, but she didn't seem to be surprised by the admission. Her heartbeat was slow and steady. I decided not to elaborate, instead moving on to one of the many other issues I had. "He can't have a future with me," I told her quietly, looking away from her searching eyes and focusing on a crack in the smooth wood of her desk. "It's impossible."
"How so?" she asked.
I hesitated. How was I supposed to explain that one? "I can't give him what he needs," I huffed, angered by the thought. He deserved someone he could grow old with, someone who could give him children. I couldn't stay in this town forever, people would notice I never aged, and they would ask questions I couldn't answer. What would we do when he was fifty and I was still in the body of a nineteen year old? "Our lives are heading in very different directions," I said carefully, wording my explanation so I didn't give anything away. "I don't want to hold him back."
"You know, most high school relationships only last as long as high school," she said kindly. "That doesn't stop other kids from being with who they love while they can."
I was shaking my head before she'd even finished speaking. "I'm different."
"How so?"
I paused, wincing as I realised I'd backed myself into a corner. "If I'm in it, I'm in it for the long haul," she didn't need to know exactly how long that would be. "I've had flings in the past," I told her, thinking fondly of Damon Salvatore and others I'd been with in my many years, purposefully not adding one very specific Original vampire to the list. "But, it'd be different with him," I admitted, glancing out the glass, seeing Stiles toying with the string of his lacrosse stick, focused on his task. He seemed to sense I was looking, and glanced up, meeting my eyes immediately. I couldn't find the strength to fake a smile, so I merely looked away again, focusing on Ms Morrell once more. "He's not someone I can just...have my wicked way with and be done," I swallowed thickly. "He's better than that."
"Sounds to me like you really love him," she said with a soft, open smile. I suddenly felt hot in the small room, confusing since I didn't typically react to temperature. I took a deep breath, glaring down at my chipped black nails. "You seem to be focusing on the future too much," she said insightfully. She wasn't wrong. I did definitely notice I worried about the future instead of focusing on the present. "I suggest that you just live in the here and now. Life is short," as she said this her lips twitched up in what I would almost call amusement, and I wondered what was funny about that statement to her, nobody else in the room would see the humour in it but me. "Spend the time you can with the people you love. If it's meant to be, it will be."
Deciding that I'd had enough of having my brain picked at, I slid to my feet, shouldering my satchel and nodding at her respectfully. She'd given me a lot to think on.
"Be gentle with him," I told her softly, glancing out at a distracted Stiles. "He's been through a lot the last few months. And if he rambles about something seemingly unrelated, just go with it, it's his way of dealing."
She smiled, inclining her head. "I'll be very careful with your Stiles," she said, and my traitorous stomach fluttered at her wording. "It was nice speaking with you Juliet. Please, feel free to come in any time, you are always welcome here."
Before she could say anything else annoyingly kind I slipped from the room, making my way towards where Stiles sat. "You can go in now," I told him gently, and he looked up, blinking a few times before picking up his things and moving to his feet.
I moved towards the seat he'd just vacated, but his hand on my arm made me pause. "Could you maybe..." he trailed off with a frown, not sure how to say what he was trying to.
"You don't want me overhearing," I finished for him, forcing myself to smile at his guilty expression. "It's fine, Stiles," I told him reassuringly. "I think I'm just going to skip the rest of the day."
"I'll meet you at your house later tonight?" he asked, something like hope in his gaze. I cocked my head, gazing at him curiously. Familiar red blotches appeared on his cheeks. "I mean, if you want me to... I could bring the stuff for hotdogs? Bet you haven't had one of those in a really long time."
"More like never," I admitted, and a spark of life flashed in his eyes before disappearing once more.
"Well that settles it," he replied in what was meant to be a mischievous tone, but it fell flat.
"Go have your talk," I prompted him, pushing his chest gently in the direction of the office, ignoring the way I felt Ms Morrell eyes on us. "I'll see you later."
He turned, however reluctantly, and made his way into the small room, the door swinging shut after him.
With a sigh I forced myself to move away from the glass, honouring my word and not listening in as I made my way towards my locker, where I dumped all my books, pulling out my spare pack of cigarettes and searching in it's depths for my old lighter.
Heels clicked on the ground beside me, and I took no notice until they suddenly came to a stop next to me. I didn't acknowledge the newcomer, instead continuing to rifle through my things. After a long, tense minute I found it underneath an old sweater, pulling it out and slipping it into my pocket.
"Yes?" I finally addressed the girl, sounding as irritated as I felt.
"What's going on with all of you?" Lydia Martin asked me. It was only about the third time we'd ever spoken to each other, and a small part of me was impressed that she had the guts to come up to me in a deserted hallway and confront me. "I haven't seen Scott all week, this is the first time you and Stiles have shown your face at school this week and Allison hasn't eaten in days."
"Gee, I don't know," I retorted sarcastically. "Might have something to do with her mother dying."
I didn't bother looking at her as I pulled out a cigarette, making my way down the hall and towards the doors. A sniffle from behind me stopped me in my tracks, and I slowly spun around to see Lydia glaring at the ground, stubbornly trying to keep the tears at bay.
"Oh," I said lamely, staring at her uncomfortably. I thought over what I'd said, it hadn't even been that mean. I'd been way worse to her in the past. "There there," I added awkwardly, reaching forwards and patting her arm softly. The second our skin connected she jumped like I'd shot her, flinching back, a small whimper leaving her lips.
She looked like she desperately wanted to scream.
"Bloody hell," I mumbled, toying with the cigarette in my hands idly and staring at her like she was insane. "Um, I guess I'll just leave you to it," I said. I felt like I should have apologised, but I had no idea what for, so I just kept my mouth shut, strolling from the hall and out into the sun, lighting up the cigarette and breathing in the chemicals, something I'd been aching to do since I'd stepped into the guidance councillor's office.
Before I could so much as get around the corner, I heard someone calling my name, and footsteps racing to meet me.
I turned around, raising a curious eyebrow at a tired looking Scott McCall.
"I need a favour."
I knocked on the door to the McCall house, listening to the sounds of Scott's mom as she walked swiftly in from the kitchen. She pulled open the door, a welcoming smile on her face only for it to drop instantly when she realised who it was.
Her heart rate skyrocketed and she gasped, moving to slam the door on me. My hand shot out, grasping the wood and pushing, preventing her from shutting it. She looked like she was going to hyperventilate, which was the last thing I needed.
"Melissa," I said calmly, watching as she desperately struggled to shut the door. "It's okay."
"No!" she snapped back, tears welling in her eyes. "You-you're one of those things!"
"I'm not a werewolf," I told her honestly, staring at her levelly through the gap.
"But your face-"
"The species you're looking for is vampire."
That apparently wasn't the right thing to say. She gasped again, trying with renewed vigour to shut the door.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I told her gently. "I'm just here to talk."
After a long few moments she paused, the fight seeming to drain out of her. She sighed, resting her head against the doorframe and shutting her eyes for a second before looking up at me sadly. "Do I have a choice?"
She seemed like the sort of person who valued the truth. "No."
She stepped back, allowing me to slip through the gap, letting the door click shut behind me. "I need a coffee to deal with this," she muttered, turning and making her way into the kitchen. I followed her, propping myself up on a seat at the counter as I watched her prepare her drink. "Why are you here?" she asked, not meeting my eyes as she filled up the kettle.
"Scott asked me to come."
She nodded for a moment. "Have you killed people?"
My lips twitched briefly. "You don't want to start with small talk? Work our way up to the big ones?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. She wasn't having any of it, merely staring at me expectantly. I sighed, reluctant to answer, though I knew I had to. "Yes, I have."
Her hands shook as she pulled out the coffee while the water boiled.
"Has Scott-has he..." she struggled to find the words.
"Scott's never taken a life," I admitted sincerely. "To be honest, I don't think he could if he tried."
Her lips twitched but the expression died as quickly as it appeared.
I didn't know if it was overstepping my bounds, but Scott had thought I would be the best person to explain everything to her, to explain why she had to keep it a secret. I figured I'd appeal to her heart first and foremost. "He's still your son, you know?" I told her genuinely, listening as her heart stuttered. She didn't respond, though I caught her eyes welling up again before she turned around. I sighed again, trying to find the words. I decided that if she wanted to cut to the chase, well then I could do the same. "You can't tell anyone, Melissa."
"Not Ms McCall or ma'am?" she asked with a pained grimace.
"Considering how old I am, you should be the one calling me ma'am," I responded with a mischievous smirk. She looked up at me and through the tears I could see curiosity. "I'm a little over 200," I supplied with prompting, my smirk widening as her breath got caught in her throat.
She was silent for a long time as she poured the water into a mug. I noticed she was making a second one, and for a moment I admired her kindness. She was making an extra drink for someone who'd forced their way into her home. I took the mug from her with a thankful smile.
"So, Scott's a...werewolf," she began with difficulty, swallowing thickly. "You're a vampire and Stiles is...?"
"100% Human."
She seemed relieved by my answer, shoulders sagging slightly as she sipped her drink. "I know I can't tell anyone," she whispered after a beat, eyes on the dark liquid in her mug. "They'd capture you; do experiments on you."
"They'd have to catch us first," I replied lightly, sipping at my own drink, pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the taste. We were quiet for a long time, her lost in her thoughts and me monitoring her reaction, making sure she wasn't going to have a panic attack and pass out. Once again her eyes watered and she sniffed sadly. There was one other thing Scott had asked me to do, or rather, ask me to give her the choice have done. "I can make you forget."
She looked up at me in surprise, silently asking me to elaborate.
"Vampires have an ability, I suppose you'd call it a form of mind control," I explained, cold hands cupped around the warmth of the mug. As soon as the words left my mouth she panicked, looking up at me in alarm. "It's okay," I assured her quietly. "That bracelet you're wearing? It's filled with vervain – it's an herb – it prevent my abilities from working on you." My words seemed to calm her slightly as she softly fingered the interwoven metal. "But if you want me too, I can make you forget everything you saw the other night. You won't know about any of this and things will go back to the way they were before."
"Did Scott ask you to do that?" she sniffled.
"He asked me to give you the option."
She seemed to consider it seriously for a minute. "But Scott – he'll be alone," she whimpered, looking distraught at the idea.
"He has us," I replied honestly, and she looked up in surprise. "Me, Stiles, Allison. He won't be alone."
She was quiet again, swallowing three mouthfuls of coffee before she spoke. "Do you think I should do it?"
It was a surprising question. She wanted my opinion? I didn't pretend to understand the inner workings of the human mind, it was pure madness. "No," I told her sincerely, and she seemed surprised by the answer. "As long as you can be trusted to keep it a secret, there's no reason for you to lose the memories."
"But Scott-"
"If you choose to forget, what's that telling him?" I asked her carefully, sipping my drink as I watched her contemplate the question posed. "That you can't handle what or who he really is? That you don't accept him?"
"That's not true."
"He's still exactly the same person," I told her gently. "Just faster, stronger, more agile and confident. See, the bite doesn't change you, it merely amplifies all the good things about. And Scott does have a lot of good things about him."
She smiled a little bit, so apparently I'd said something right.
"Have you had to do it before?" she asked meekly. "Taken away somebody's memories because they couldn't handle it?"
"Oh yeah," I nodded seriously. "All the time. There's no shame in it," I assured her. "Maybe you're just not ready." I hesitated, wondering if I should go on. "You love your son very much. One day you will be ready. I'm sure of it."
Again tears welled in her eyes, but she was strong, refusing to let them fall. "I think I want to be ready now," she whispered honestly, and I couldn't help but smile.
Deciding not to push it, I decided to direct the conversation to a slightly different path. "So, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Consider me your 'supernatural handbook'."
Melissa smiled, and I had a feeling I was doing an okay job for once.
Stiles had offered to drive me to the game, but I'd had something to pick up in town, so I told him I'd meet him there.
I hadn't, however, factored an abduction into the equation. So when a van pulled in front of me while I was walking passed an alley in town, I didn't think too much of it. Until three men dove out, all brandishing guns.
At first I thought they were probably just muggers. Then one shot me.
I expected to feel a sting but nothing more. So I was more than surprised when a deep, burning ache appeared in my stomach where the bullet had burrowed in. I glanced down without thinking about it, taking in the sight of the blood soaking my grey shirt. My knees buckled under me but I caught myself, the vervain lacing the wooden bullet forcing my fangs from their hiding place in my gums. I snarled at the hunters, taking a step forwards only to have another bullet hit me in the leg.
"What the hell?" I growled, trying to move towards them, only for my knees to buckle properly this time, sending me to the concrete. "We had a deal," I spat furiously.
Someone else jumped from the van, and my eyes trailed up the familiar form of one of the few people I would call a friend. "The deal's off," Allison said, knife in hand as she glared down at me like I disgusted her. "Grandfather's orders."
I couldn't help but hiss, even though I knew it dehumanised me, making me seem as much of an animal as I truly was. She didn't step back in fear as I'd hoped, merely nodding at one of the hunters who shot me once more, this time in the head.
I was in and out of consciousness after that as my body worked over time to deal with the wooden, vervain-laced bullet in my brain. Ordinarily I'd be able to spit it out, no problem. Unfortunately, hunters were among the few who knew a vampire's weakness.
I knew I was in the van, and I nearly smirked that they'd had the audacity to abduct me in broad daylight. I heard them muttering about wolves, something about Derek and his pack, but I was too focused to trying to heal myself to pay proper attention.
It could have been hours or minutes later when we came to a stop. My hands were bound with vervain-soaked rope, and with the wood in my system I had trouble staying conscious. I vaguely heard a familiar voice invite me into the home we'd pulled up to, and I hoped I survived the whole thing so I could come back and kill the inhabitants while they slept.
It wasn't my first rodeo. I'd been kidnapped loads of times, more often than not by hunters. Usually I was prepared. I'd gotten soft, so used to having friends and not having to be on my guard all the time that I got sloppy, allowing myself to be caught. I was tied to a chair in some kind of basement, and I glared at the stony faced hunter tying the knots.
His hand brushed against my chest deliberately as he pulled back, and I snarled at him. "Ooh, kitten has some fight in her after all," he said smugly, only to jump back in fright when I snapped my jaws at him. I was angry, angrier than I could remember being since I'd moved to this sad little town; since I'd met Stiles.
The thought of Stiles pushed me on, and I surged forwards again, this time quick enough to sink my fangs into his forearm. I was lucky enough to get only a small mouthful of mouthwatering blood before he pulled a piece of wood from his pocket and jammed it into my stomach.
I shouted out in pain, eyes watering as I felt the crudely carved stake splinter inside of me. I tipped my head back, feeling the burn spread up my chest, my head still screaming in pain from the bullet lodged in my brain tissue.
"How do you like that, you little bitch?" the ugly hunter asked with a laugh.
Gathering the blood that had pooled in my mouth, I spat it at him, grinning darkly when he flinched back. "Wrong species, dumbass," I sneered, and he glared, reaching down and pulling out the stake. I screamed as it ripped from my body, sagging in relief when it was gone. I glanced up in horror as he positioned it over my heart.
"Joseph," a creepy baritone voice snapped from the edge of the stairs, and he spun around, revealing Gerard standing there, a twisted smirk on his wrinkled face. Allison stood behind him, stake in hand – probably for protection – and indifferent glare on her face. "We're not killing her yet, remember?" he said with false patience. "Put it back where it came from," he instructed firmly, and with an indulgent grin he leaned down and slammed it into my gut, a few inches to the left from where it had been previously.
I gasped in pain, but refused to cry, merely seething at the hunters. Allison most of all. We were friends, and I didn't take well to being betrayed by my friends.
"Hello again miss Adams," Gerard greeted me almost pleasantly, dragging another chair closer and sitting down on it, his knees cracking loudly.
It had been a long time since anyone had called me by that name; by my real name. I'd gotten so used to the many aliases I'd created over the years that I'd almost forgotten it was my own. I wondered how he knew it, so very few did. But I ultimately decided it didn't matter, I was more focused on getting the hell out of there.
"I had a deal with other Argent," I snarled, once again spitting out the blood that had pooled in my mouth, allowing me to speak more clearly, even though my fangs didn't seem to want to retreat. "I've kept up my end of the bargain," I told him darkly. "Not a single human bitten."
"I don't like being lied to, Juliet," he said, and I hated the way he made my name sound.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The Stilinski boy," he said, and though I'd lost a lot of blood, what remained seemed to drain from my face, my still heart dropping into my stomach. "I have you biting him on tape," he told me smugly.
"It wasn't willingly!" I argued, stretching forwards only for a searing pain to make itself known in my gut where the end of a stake poked out of my flesh. "He did it while I was unconscious! He thought he was saving me!" I growled, remembering that night – it felt so very long ago now – when I'd had a taste of Stiles' glorious blood. I'd wanted more, craved more like some common addict. Thus was the vampiric curse. No matter how much I loved the kid, I would always want one thing more than his presence. I would always lust more for something other than his body. As long as his heart continued beating, that wouldn't change.
The oldest hunter coughed, pulling out a little pill case and swallowing a small handful of them. "Nonetheless," Gerard continued like it hadn't happened. "You violated the terms of the agreement. We are under no obligation to keep our side of the deal."
"So you abducted me?" I asked, wincing as the wood continued to ache in my gut, blood dripping into my lap. "Why not just kill me now?"
He smiled in a way that was the opposite of comforting and shakily stood to his feet, stepping aside to let Allison pass. "We may need you yet, miss Adams," he said, nodding at his granddaughter, who bent down and jabbed yet another vervain-soaked, splinter riddled stake into my side.
I wanted to scream but I resisted, biting my tongue to stop myself, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "That one definitely punctured my liver," I growled, the agony once again spreading through as the vervain circulated.
Allison didn't smile like she enjoyed it, which I supposed was something. Instead she stared down at me apathetically, watching and waiting for her orders like a good little soldier. "Come on darling," he said, patting her on the shoulder and herding her out of the room. "You have some wolves to hunt."
A/N: I've written a few more chapters ahead so I thought I'd just go ahead and post this one. It's one of my favourites, and includes a few little things people suggested in the comments. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thanks for reading. Leave a review and tell me your thoughts. Thinking of starting a Harry Potter story, what do you guys think?
