Creating chaos just to prove we're alive
Demolition of a delicate kind
Midnight confessions keep on blurring the line
Say you're here on my side
Want you here on my side
You keep my heart under the cover of night
Could be the devil in a clever disguise
Temptation leads us, it's too late for goodbye
State Of Seduction – Digital Daggers
I was woken from my slumber by the sound of a door slamming, and I grunted irritably, snuggling deeper into Stiles' unfortunately (for me at least) covered chest.
"Stiles? Have you – oh!" the sheriff cut himself off in surprise, and I peeked my eyes open, trying not to glare at my...at Stiles' father for interrupting my bliss. Stiles woke up a tad more violently, shooting into a sitting position and staring at his dad with wide eyes. "I didn't know you had...company," John said uncomfortably.
"Yeah, well I do, so...?" he replied with bleary eyes, gesturing vaguely at the door.
"Right," he nodded, avoiding my eyes. "Well breakfast is ready," he told his son. "There's plenty for all of us." He turned around, striding back through the doorway, calling over his shoulder, "and the door stays open, Stiles!"
We were silent for a long moment, listening as to the sound of his father making his way down the stairs. Stiles turned to me, looking adorably nervous. I rolled my eyes at him and leaned in, gently brushing my lips over his before pulling back and smiling. "I should go," I said regretfully, sliding out from under the covers and pushing myself to my feet, shoving my hands into the pockets of my borrowed hoodie.
"No!"
I turned back to Stiles in surprise, raising an eyebrow as the kid blushed.
"I mean – it'd be weirder if you left now. Just-just stay for breakfast," he said, trying not to sound like he was begging.
I smiled again, glancing sheepishly at the floor when his heart stuttered before glancing back up. "If you wish it," I mumbled lightly.
"I wish it," he responded, a grin overtaking his face. I beamed back at the reference to one of my all time favourite books, watching as he stood, running a hand over his short hair and heading for the door. "Do you want to take a shower?" he asked innocently, though I couldn't help but smirk at the implication. He flushed again, and I held my breath so I wouldn't catch his scent. "Not-not with me," he stuttered nervously, pulling at the neckline of his shirt as though it were choking him.
"I'll be okay, thank you," I responded gently, and he nodded, pulling a handful of clothes from his drawers before smiling once and disappearing out into the hall.
Unsure what to do, I merely stood in the centre of his room for a long few minutes, unwilling to go face what was sure to be an awkward breakfast alone. I ignored the sound of Stiles fumbling in the shower, padding with bare feet over to his desk, smiling down at the pictures of his family and friends lining the back of it.
I reached into the jeans I hadn't taken off, pulling out a cigarette. I wasn't sure if smoking in the house was okay, but I couldn't leave to do it, and I sure as hell needed one to calm my nerves and my cravings.
Sleeping next to Stiles, being immersed in his scent, it was maddening. I hadn't been lying when I'd told him I'd always lust for his blood. All I could do was hope it became easier with time. I took a seat at his desk chair, bare feet kicked up on the wooden desk as I lit the smoke, breathing in the chemicals, sighing happily as it took the edge off my hunger.
I'd almost finished it when Stiles came back into the room, dressed in jeans and a fresh flannel shirt. "Are you smoking?" he asked instantly, and I cringed sheepishly. "You really need to quit, you know," he said like I hadn't heard it from him a billion times already. "If my dad catches you smoking in the house you'll be dead."
"Too late," I chirped in good humour, and he rolled his eyes, plucking the cigarette from my fingers and tossing it into the waste basket beside his desk.
"Then I'll be dead," he tried again, and I slid to my feet, arms wrapping comfortably around his neck.
"Well we can't have that," I mumbled coyly, leaning in so my lips brushed his ear. "If you died, who would I have to kiss?"
"Fair point," he replied before pulling back only to slam his lips to mine. I sighed contently, leaning into him, struggling to take things slow but knowing it was what the human needed. He pulled back to breathe and I paused, brow furrowing as I caught a familiar scent.
"Something's burning..." I muttered with a frown.
"Probably my dad attempting to cook bacon," he responded, tugging me back to meet his lips. I let him kiss me for one long moment before I heard the tell-tale crackling of fire coming from below us.
"Oh shit," I hissed, jumping back and staring down at the flaming waste basket helplessly. Stiles yelped loudly, staring in horror as the flames grew. "Why would you throw a lit cigarette into a bin full of paper?" I asked him, turning to look at him with wide eyes, wondering if he was really as smart as I'd given him credit for.
"I wasn't thinking!" he shouted back, glancing between me and the fire forlornly. "I was distracted by your lips!"
"And that's an excuse to set the house on fire?"
"Okay, now you're just being over-dramatic-"
He was cut off as the smoke alarm above us began to shriek, and he slammed his hands over his ears. "Oh, great," I sneered, gesturing to the wailing device. "Very smooth," I complimented falsely.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and a moment later Stiles' dad burst into the room, staring at the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. When neither of us moved, he groaned, snatching an empty glass off the desk, rushing into the next room to fill it with water from the sink before darting back in and dousing the small waste basket with the liquid, instantly stopping the flames.
Stiles and I, neither having moved an inch, glanced at him sheepishly. He groaned again, running a hand down his face and staring at us with a glare. He opened his mouth, paused then shut it again. "You know what?" he finally said with an eerily calm expression. "I don't even want to know."
"That's probably for the best," Stiles nodded acceptingly, and John sighed before turning around and leaving the room.
Two weeks in to dating Stiles, I realised something.
I was laughing at something he'd said, laying back on his bed, my head tipped over the edge so I was staring at him upside-down as he rambled on about some stupid thing he'd done with Scott a few years back, sitting on the floor in front of me, a half-empty cup of Ramen in his lap.
I stopped giggling abruptly, blinking at him in shock. "What?" he asked, frowning suddenly.
"Nothing," I assured him with a small smile. "I just realised that it's been a long time since I've laughed this much."
He grinned happily, and I copied the action, my grin only widening as he leaned forwards to capture my lips with his own. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, since I was upside-down, but it was our own little brand of perfect.
ONE MONTH LATER
"Do you want chocolate or strawberry ice cream?" I called to Stiles in the other room, listening distractedly as he shuffled through the case of DVDs he'd brought over, trying to decide on one.
"Is that a trick question?" he yelled back, forgetting I'd be able to hear him even if he whispered. I smiled, rolling my eyes and scooping out a spoonful of each, tapping them into the waiting bowl.
I hadn't needed to be worried about what it would be like; being with Stiles came as easy as breathing. We'd slotted into each other's lives like we'd been there all along. He spent most of his days at my house where we'd spend time reading, or he'd try (unsuccessfully) to teach me how to cook. Some days he'd take me out, he'd get sick of Ramen or pizza and drive us to the local ice rink where he pigged out on hotdogs while watching me spin in circles on the ice. Sometimes we'd go to the cinema, he'd force me to eat the popcorn while I mumbled to him about the wonders of modern animation abilities.
I spent some time at his house too. He formally introduced me to his father as his girlfriend, which was about as sweet as it was awkward. The Sheriff had shook my hand and invited me in for dinner, which I accepted politely, finding that the gluten-and-fat-free pasta they were having wasn't as disgusting as it looked.
Together we spent a lot of time with Scott, either he'd come 'hang out' at my house, or we'd meet him somewhere, like at the lacrosse field where both boys were going every few days to keep their skills sharp. I'd sit on the sidelines, usually reading, and encouraging Stiles every time he got frustrated when he couldn't get a ball past Scott.
We'd been kissing a lot.
Stiles was, not only a teenager, but very much a human male. He was also, very awkward and unable to verbally communicate his request for the next level of intimacy. So far I hadn't relented, keeping things very PG-13. There were lots of reasons for it, him being a virgin at the top of the list. He was inexperienced, and in comparison I felt like kind of a slut.
He deserved more than me, in every way possible. I didn't want someone so...tainted, to take anything from him. Mostly though, I didn't want to take the next step only for him to regret it.
There was a knock at my front door that I heard over the sound of the jazz playing from the lounge room, pulling me from my reflection. "Can you get that Stiles?" I asked him loudly, and I heard my boyfriend stumble into something on his way to the door.
I hummed along to the jazz as I scooped another bowl for myself, half paying attention to the conversation happening at the door.
"Uh, hi?" Stiles asked whoever was there.
"Juliet Adams live here?" a curt and painfully familiar voice asked, and my eyes widened as I dropped the ice cream scoop, rushing to the front door in a blur of colour.
"Damon Salvatore," I drawled, appearing behind Stiles, making the kid jump while Damon merely smirked widely.
"What, no hug hello?" he asked, head tilted in a way I used to find adorable, now I just felt indifferent.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I questioned snidely, clearly revealing it was anything but.
"We need to talk," he said, eyes darting to a confused looking Stiles before landing back on me. "Alone."
"Hey!" Stiles snapped defiantly. "Anything you have to say to Juliet, you can say in front of me-"
"Stiles, go get started on that ice cream," I instructed him without taking my eyes from a smug looking Damon. I saw Stiles gaping incredulously in my peripheral vision. "Please," I added in a softer tone, and though he grumbled under his breath, he did as I asked, turning and heading for the kitchen. I waited until he was out of the room before nodding to the porch, stepping out beside my old friend, shutting the front door behind me. "So why're you in town?" I asked with narrowed eyes. "You've haven't brought trouble with you, have you?"
"No," he smirked, rolling his pretty blue eyes. "This time the trouble didn't follow me, I followed it."
"Oh?"
His expression of amusement dropped as though it'd never been there at all. He frowned, his strong brow furrowing as he struggled with how to word what he was trying to tell me. I raised my eyebrows, challenging him to speak up. "Klaus," he finally blurted uncomfortably, deciding to just be done with it.
I tensed, mouth suddenly feeling like it was full of cotton. I took a deep, steadying breath, suddenly feeling the irritating urge to kill something. "My Klaus?" I asked cautiously.
"No, the Klaus." I couldn't help the way my eyes dropped to the wooden boards of my porch, frowning uncomfortably. "Unless...holy shit, they're the same person, aren't they?" he asked, sounding a mix between shocked and annoyed. "You were turned by an Original?"
"How close?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"Very," he said, crinkling his nose when I glared, letting him know he wouldn't be getting details today. "Just west of here, on the reserve."
"Why?"
"He's tracking werewolves."
I forced myself to keep breathing, though fear struck deep in my gut at the thought of Klaus getting his hands on Scott, or Isaac, or even Derek, who I could admit I didn't completely hate. "Why?" I repeated seriously, eyes carefully trained on his face, monitoring his reaction.
"Long story short?" he asked and I nodded curtly. "He's a vampire-werewolf hybrid and he's looking for packs, with Stefan along for the ride, trying to make others like him so he has a neat little army all to himself."
"That...is a lot to take in."
"There's someone after Scott?!" Stiles exclaimed in a panic, shoving open the front door he'd been unsuccessfully hiding behind and tripping out onto the porch, staring up at a taller Damon in horror.
"Who?" he asked, shooting my freckled boyfriend an irritated look.
"What the hell's going on?!" Stiles tried again, and I rubbed a hand down my face, already exhausted. "What's an Original, why's it after Scott and who the hell is Klaus?"
I turned to face Stiles, unable to find myself annoyed with him when I saw the worry and concern in his gaze. "This is not a conversation I'm having on the porch," I huffed, herding both men into my house. They went with little argument, Damon scowling as usual, eventually moving into my lounge room. Stiles took a seat on the couch while Damon meandered over to my fireplace, resting against it and surveying his surroundings with mild interest. I took the seat beside the human, folding my legs together on the seat and frowning as I tried to figure out where to start. "Klaus is the vampire who turned me 200 years ago."
"The one who made you into a vampire?" he asked for clarification, coffee eyes wide and focused on me.
"Yes."
"And he's here? In Beacon Hills?"
I glanced up at an indifferent looking Damon. "Apparently."
"And what about Hybrids?" he asked confusedly.
Damon sighed in annoyance, having little patience with humans as always. I couldn't fault him for it, however, until recently I was much the same. "Alright kid, try and keep up," he snapped, crossing his arms over his unzipped leather jacket and Zeppelin shirt. "There's an ancient Aztec curse called the sun and the moon curse-"
"Yeah, I know," Stiles nodded quickly. "The curse says that werewolves can only turn on a full moon and vampires are weakened by the sun," he paused, glancing down at my heavy lapis lazuli ring before spying a similar one on Damon's middle finger. "Well, most are, anyway." He suddenly had a thought, turning to look at me in bewilderment. "But...Scott and Derek can change whenever they want, so I guess that means it can't all be true, right?"
"Werewolves only turning on a full moon is a myth created because werewolves are enslaved by the full moon; they have no choice on those nights," I explained, trying to make it easy to understand.
"It's also helped along by the fact that a bite from a wolf on a full moon – and only on a full moon – is lethal to vampires," Damon added, and I glanced up at him in surprise.
"What?" I asked in shock.
His bored expression turned smug in an instant. "Do I know something the great Juliet Adams didn't?"
I ignored him, turning back to a frowning Stiles. It was good to know; I'd been so terrified of being bitten by one of the local wolves that, now I knew I need only be worried on full moons. It was definitely a load off. "So, what's the sun and the moon curse got to do with this Klaus guy?"
"Klaus is an Original," I explained, trying not to pay attention to the sick feeling in my stomach as I spoke of him. "It means he was one of the members of the first vampire family in history."
"How-how old is he?"
"A thousand," Damon supplied with a shrug. "Give or take."
"Oh."
"And while we're on the subject, how could you not tell me you dated an Original? More than an Original even, the Original."
"If I went around telling everyone I'd been with the Klaus, I'd have a reputation for being an attention seeking whore at best and a mentally unstable immortal at worst," I snapped.
"Why wouldn't anyone believe you?" Stiles asked innocently from beside me.
"Because up until recently, he was a myth, a legend," Damon told him with a curled lip. "A bedtime story you told children so they'd behave."
"And he's your ex?!" Stiles turned to stare at me incredulously. I breathed deeply, resisting the urge to rub at my aching temples.
"I had a thing for bad boys," I muttered weakly.
"I remember," Damon smirked proudly, flinching away when I hurled a paperweight at his head.
"Besides, it wasn't just a fling," I explained, locking eyes with a suddenly insecure looking Stiles. "He was the vampire who turned me. I was...indebted to him. Connected in a way, if you will."
"You don't have a sire bond to the douche, do you?" the standing vampire asked with a disgusted grimace.
"No," I denied instantly, glaring at him for the mere suggestion. "I was just...young and enamoured."
"And this somehow ties in with the sun and moon curse because..." Stiles trailed off, hoping we'd fill in the blanks. I looked up at Damon for an explanation.
He sighed, clearly when he'd decided to stop by he didn't think he'd be giving a human a vampire history lesson. "The curse is a fake," he revealed, and Stiles eyes widened almost comically. "What the curse really is, is a way of binding Klaus' werewolf side, preventing him from being a true hybrid or making others like him."
"But you said he was here to create hybrids," I interjected. "So that must mean..."
"He broke the curse a few weeks ago," Damon admitted.
"But he'd need-"
"The doppelganger."
"So when you said you had a Katherine look-alike, you really meant-"
"The doppelganger."
"Right." I paused, wondering how to continue. "At least tell me she's nothing like Katherine," I said hopefully, and I was surprised when his eyes lit up almost unnoticeably.
"She's nothing like Katherine." He frowned, considering his words for a moment. "Well, she's a little like Katherine, but she's way more likeable, and not nearly as bitchy."
I noticed the way he talked about her and I rolled my eyes. "Really Damon, a human?"
"You're one to talk," he snapped back, eyeing Stiles with an air of distaste. "I can smell him all over you. Really now, have you no standards?"
"At least I'm not in love with my brother's girlfriend who happens to be identical to the vampire that we both fell in love in love with and then subsequently got us killed back in 1864," I mocked, my tone sharp and cutting.
He winced, "Well, yeah, it sounds bad when you say it like that."
"Dude, your life is an episode of Days of Our Lives," Stiles spoke up, and Damon turned on him, sneering darkly.
"So why come at all, Damon?" I asked, preventing a fight from breaking out, one that Stiles would lose embarrassingly quickly. "Here to save Stefan?"
"More like 'keep an eye on Stefan'," he corrected, pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket and taking a swig.
"Aw, how sweet," I mocked, and he growled at me in annoyance. "Listen," I began after a beat. "I happen to be quite...fond of the local werewolf population," I told him seriously. "What can I do to keep them out of harm's way?"
"Beats me," Damon shrugged carelessly. "He's your ex."
"Whom I haven't seen in 150 years."
"Damon-"
"Look, just tell them to keep out of the woods. With any luck he'll just pass through on his way up north. Heard word of an alpha pack a couple hundred miles up, I'm sure that's way more enticing than a few Californian strays."
I hesitated, unsure how to ask the question I needed to without sounding pathetic or scared. "And does he...does he know I'm here?"
Damon paused, baby blues narrowing at me as he considered my question. "I have no idea," he finally admitted. "I'd stay inside until he's gone though, unless you feel like having a reunion."
"Noted," I nodded. "How will I know he's gone?"
"Because I will be too."
I frowned, it took a moment for his words to sink in. "No," I growled, glaring at him irritatedly.
"Come on, Adams," he whined annoyingly. "It'll be like, a week tops."
"You have the money for a hotel room."
"Really, you're going to kick your dear, old friend out on the streets, in weather like this nonetheless?" he asked, gesturing to the window where the sun shone through from the cloudless sky. I grit my teeth, glare only hardening. "Either you let me stay willingly, or I'm going to annoy you until you don't have a choice. So why don't you take the easier option and save us all the trouble?"
I took a deep, calming breath, forcing myself not to attack.
"Besides, your new boy toy and I can compare notes," he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Stiles' usual red blotches appeared on his handsome face and he cleared his throat, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Unless...no way," he muttered, smirking like it was Christmas. "Really? Juliet Adams hasn't sealed the deal yet? Are you kidding?"
I stood from the couch, stepping forwards and slamming my fist into Damon's gut. With a dignified hum I spun around, marching from the room and heading for the kitchen, intent on getting myself more ice cream.
"Dude, it's going to change your life. Seriously, vamp sex? It's like nothing you can even imagine..."
I stopped listening, spooning the frozen treat harder than necessary as I grumbled angrily under my breath.
Living with Damon wasn't so bad. He was gone most of the time, inconspicuously trailing his brother. I kept my head low, staying at home with Stiles more often than not, not wanting to risk being seen by Klaus on the off chance he rolled into town. It was a few days after Damon's arrival when my boyfriend finally plucked up the courage to ask me what the deal was with Klaus.
"It's complicated," I told him honestly, and he grimaced at the word.
"Simplify it?"
I walked away from the radio I was trying to tune, making my way over to where he sat on my couch, his laptop propped in his lap. He pushed it away as I sat beside him, turning to give me his full attention.
"When I was eighteen – this was in 1826 – a family swept through my town in England. They were noble and wealthy, but there was little else we knew about them. They kept to themselves, until one night they had a ball. There were a few of them there, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah and, of course, Klaus. My father accompanied me to the event, hoping I'd catch the eye of one of the allusive family members. It was very strange for me not to have been married yet; my sister married at fifteen. So we drank wine that I hated and ate grapes that were too sour, all the while parading me round like a prized stallion. I danced with a fair few men that night. None left an impression, except him."
I paused, glancing at Stiles, who appeared to be hanging on my every word.
"He was handsome and powerful and witty, everything one hoped for in a suitor. Unfortunately, as I saw something attractive in him, he saw something attractive in me. See, I didn't know who he was at the time, nor did I know of the games he liked to play with the young women in the towns he swept through. And that's what it was to him; a game. He didn't court me like a regular boy, he merely took me to the stables and ravished me," the blood looked caught between leaving and flooding his face, not sure how to react by my blunt statement. "And I was young and foolish and caught up in the excitement of it all. He would come by every few days, it wasn't until he turned me that I got my compelled memories back and learned he'd been drinking from me the whole time, feeding me his blood to heal the wounds and making me forget."
"So, what? One day he just...changed you?" Stiles asked quietly, still enraptured by my story.
"One day he told me what he was, gave me a rather gruesome demonstration and then...he offered to change me."
The human's eyes widened in something like horror, and I had to stop myself from flinching away. "You chose this?"
I pushed myself to my feet, interlocking my fingers in front of me and pacing the length of the room, torn between the past and present. "He made it sound so...magical," I told him, trying not to appear as distraught as I felt. "He told I would be better; that I'd be stronger, more confident, more beautiful than I could imagine. He told me of the wonderful existence I would gain, how it would solve all my problems." I hesitated, glowering at the carpet. "He failed to mention what it would take."
"So...you just agreed to let him turn you into a vampire?"
I winced again, turning away, unable to stand the look in his coffee eyes. "I was in love. He convinced me that the only way we could be together was if I was turned."
"Obviously it didn't work out..."
"Obviously," I nodded, reluctant to continue. He didn't say anything, waiting for me to elaborated. I sighed tiredly, not in the mood to relive it all over again. "He turned me and for a while it was simply...euphoric. I was better in every way."
"Except the part where you drank blood to survive."
"You have to understand, Stiles," I said quietly, wringing my hands together. "To a newborn vampire, killing – it's our basic instinct. Its all we want: the hunt, the chase, the chance to feel the blood run down our throats as we take the life from a-" I cut myself off, hunger suddenly rearing it's ugly head in my gut. I took a deep, calming breath to steady myself. "The...bloodlust eventually dulls, fading until it's easier to control and you're not so completely blinded by it. I suppose it was what you'd call our 'honeymoon phase'.
"We tore through the continent, us and his family, creating chaos just to prove we were alive. I wanted nothing more than blood and Klaus, but I guess I just wasn't enough for him. It was hardly surprising, he was pushing 800 at the time. How could a twenty year old girl hold his interest?" I frowned again, not enjoying retelling the sad little tale. "He wanted a polygamous relationship," I told him, elaborating when he shot me a look of confusion. "He didn't want to be exclusive. I got over it, learned to love what little time I got with him. I faded into the background soon enough, I guess I became a part of his...entourage. Stayed with him and his family – or what was left of it – for about fifty years.
"Eventually I left. Klaus didn't mind me leaving, he had other things on his mind, other toys to keep himself occupied. Elijah – Klaus' brother – had broken away at the point, he was living in South America and when I tracked him down and asked if I could stay with him, he said no." I smiled ruefully at Stiles' confused frown. "I was confused too, but he explained that it was time for me to 'spread my wings' as he put it. He asked me what I'd always wanted to do but never got the chance – being so caught up in Klaus and all.
"The answer was, of course, education. I wanted to learn. I'd been all over the world and I'd never really bothered to learn any languages. So I went to school and studied linguistics, then when that ended I took up medicine, from there I tried my hand at music, did a bachelor of psychology which was fascinating.
"Klaus still found me from time to time, sweeping into town and having his wicked way with me, like I could ever deny him anything," even as I said it I noticed the parallel between my words and how I felt in regards to Stiles, but I refused to compare the two in depth. "I continued to kill, of course. I was a master at covering my tracks. Every city I went to had a long list of serial killers, as most cities tend to do with a vampire in town. I met Damon while I was studying Literature at Yale, I decided not to tell him about who Klaus really was, spinning some lie about him being some guy in the vampire mafia and he was content to believe it."
Stiles was quiet for a moment, digesting my words. "That's it?"
"The simplified, PG-13 version, yeah," I told him honestly.
He ran a hand down his face. "You know when you were talking you slipped into your English accent," he said, a weak smile on his pale lips.
"Did I?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded. "It was cute."
I stared at him, recalling my study in human psychology and wondering if he was showing signs of any mental conditions that would be affecting his reaction. "Your vampire girlfriend just told you she chose to be a serial killer who was part of what these days pretty much equates to supernatural gang activity, and you're calling her cute?" I hissed incredulously.
"Yeah, I guess I am," he responded with a somewhat dopey smirk.
I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temples. "You're fucking crazy," I murmured tiredly, with only a hint of amusement.
"So you're sure this Klaus guy won't drop in while he's close by?" he asked curiously, a flicker of something like nervousness in his eyes.
"As far as I'm aware, he doesn't even know I'm here."
There was a long silence that was only broken by Stiles' stomach making a loud grumbling sound.
"Come on," I said, unable to help my lips curling up at his sheepish expression. "Let me watch you make something to eat."
He grinned, standing and moving over to the kitchen. Before either of us could step into the room, the front door banged open loudly, making Stiles jump. I shifted in front of my boyfriend protectively, but I hadn't needed to, as a moment later Scott burst into the lounge room, breathing heavily as he stared at us in alarm.
"Scott?" Stiles asked worriedly.
"There's been an attack," his best friend told us with wide eyes. "Some kids got mauled down by the river."
"Mauled?" Stiles responded with a frown. "By what? An animal?"
"No," he shook his head. "By a werewolf."
A/N: Super happy you guys liked the last chapter, it was one of my all time favourites to write! Some people have been asking about Juliet and Stiles' ship name, and after a lot of trial and error decision making, I've decided on...Stiliet. (Sti-liet) I kind of love it :) I also think some of you will be pretty happy with the guest appearance in this chapter, I know it's one of your biggest requests :)
