A/N: All right guys, this is where things get complicated.

So my timeline for the Vampire Diaries (for those of you who watch it and care, anyway) is severely off. For you guys keeping track, the 'summer' section of this story coincided with the 'summer' after season 2 of TVD. Now, the problem is that there's a certain character I'm introducing in this chapter who won't be, shall we say, 'revived' for a few months in the TVD verse. However, I'm speeding things up. I'm sure you guys don't care anyway, since you've all made it clear you want this character to show up very badly.

Enjoy you devious monkeys.


I'm a wanderess,

I'm a one night stand,

Don't belong to no city,

Don't belong to no man.

I'm the violence in the pouring rain,

I'm a hurricane

Hurricane - Halsey


"This is stupid."

Scott rolled his eyes, tilting his head to raise an eyebrow at his best friend. "You're just saying that because you're afraid of the pain," he replied with a smile.

"Rightly so," he retorted as he pulled into a spot on the side of the road, pushing my legs off the back of his chair with a stern frown. I smirked through the dark at him, and he just tutted in annoyance.

"It can't be any worse than getting bitten by a vampire," he responded smugly, mischief dancing in his chocolate eyes as we both saw Stiles flush.

"That-that's different," he muttered, pulling the keys from the ignition and unplugging his phone from the centre console. I snorted from the back, and he shot me a sour look before cracking open his door and all but tripping out onto the empty road, the surface wet from the recent rain.

I shared a smirk with Scott as we both slid from the jeep with far more grace, doors clicking shut behind us. Despite his indignation, the first thing Stiles did when I reached him was wrap his hand around mine, threading our fingers together and tugging me close to his side. I grinned in the dull glow of the overhead streetlight, bumping my hip against him gently as we let Scott lead to way down the street, heading for the big glowing letters clearly spelling out tattoo.

The large man in the shop gave us a doubtful look over his glasses, a piece of red fluff caught in his messy beard. "ID?" he asked Scott, and the kid passed over the correct one. The artist looked over it with careful eyes before grunting and giving it back.

"You sterilise the needles first, right?" Stiles asked in clear worry, and the man shot him a severely annoyed look. I rolled my eyes, tugging my boyfriend away from the intimidating figure, letting Scott begin to sort out details while I pulled Stiles from earshot, stopping in front of the wall of art, gazing at it thoughtfully.

"You know, I nearly got a tattoo once," I told my human conversationally, squeezing his hand, my eyes drifting over the words.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his best friend distractedly.

I shrugged, "I guess when you're facing eternity, committing to something like a tattoo is a big deal."

Interest peaked, he looked back at me. "What were you going to get?"

"The tree of life," I admitted, lips twitching up as he raised his eyebrows, only half listening as the man went through all the health, safety and maintenance information with an eager Scott. "It was going to be an ironic gesture, more than anything. But I couldn't go through with it. That and at the time Klaus said he didn't think it was classy for a woman to have one, so I let it go."

Stiles frowned down at me as I absently scuffed the sole of my converse against the ground. Before he could say anything, Scott and the artist interrupted. "Just take a seat in that chair," the imposing man said, pointing to a reclining chair in the middle of the room. I let go of Stiles' hand, bumping him lightly once more before wandering over to Scott's side while my boyfriend distractedly flipped through one of the art books.

"Nervous?" I asked him pleasantly.

"Excited," he corrected, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What do you want and where do you want it?" the artist asked, and Scott pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "Boy," the man snarked sarcastically from over his glasses. "It's a good thing you drew me a picture."

Scott grinned in amusement at the man, who walked around to his side and began preparing his tools. "Hey Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles spoke up, holding out the image of a monster that looked uncannily like the kanima. I snorted from my place by Scott, rolling my eyes at the kid. "Too soon?" he asked with pursed lips, glancing down at the art. "Yeah..." he huffed, going back to idly flipping through the large book. "I don't know man, are you sure about this? It's pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott replied strongly, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Okay but why two bands?"

"Yeah, that's a good question," I interjected, taking a seat by the wolf's side and watching the man with the needles carefully. "Why, out of everything, this design?"

"I like it," he responded simply.

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning?"

They continued to squabble about it, but I tuned it out, crossing one leg over the other and staring across the room, assessing each piece and considering them. Maybe I should have gotten one. Well, I figured I could come back any time and get one, and maybe it wasn't that permanent for a vampire. If I really hated it I could just take a knife to the area; gorge out the chunk of skin and let it heal over. I doubted the tattoo would grow back with it.

"See, he gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos Scott," Stiles muttered snidely, throwing a glance at the artist as I realised I completely missed the last half of the conversation. "Literally."

"You ready?" the man asked Scott, wisely ignoring the disparaging kid. The werewolf nodded with false confidence, his thundering heart the only give away of his nervousness. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope," he breathed, wincing heavily when the sharp pain began on his upper arm.

"I tend to get a little squeamish..." Stiles trailed off, grimacing as he stared at the needles penetrating Scott's skin. His face turned somewhat green and he began to fall. I could have gotten to his side in plenty of time to catch him, but there was no way the tattoo artist wouldn't notice my supernatural speed, so with a cringe I let my boyfriend fall ungracefully to the floor, clicking my tongue regretfully when he didn't immediately get up.

"You good?" I asked Scott casually, the wolf having barely noticed his friend's fall.

"Yeah," he nodded distractedly, clearly trying to stay strong. "Go."

With a nod I slid from the chair and made my way over to an unconscious Stiles. I knelt on the ground beside him, reaching over to poke him in the cheek. His heart was beating calmly in his chest and his breathing was even, so I wasn't too worried. I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair, wincing when they ran over a small bump. "You got a first aid kit?" I asked the man over my shoulder.

"Cupboard under the register," he grunted, focused on his task.

Within a minute I was back at Stiles' side, pressing the ice pack to his no doubt aching head.

"Stiles," I sang, placing a gentle hand on his chest and leaning over him, my dark hair falling around us like a curtain. Slowly but surely, the pale human blinked awake, staring up at me with bleary eyes.

"Wha-?" he asked, gazing up at me foggily.

"You passed out," I told him with a wicked smirk, and his nose crinkled adorably.

"Did not," he grumbled, lifting up a clumsy arm and halfheartedly trying to shove me away. I giggled, ignoring the movement and reaching behind him, easily lifting him into a sitting position. He pressed his palm to his sore head, blinking into space dazedly as he recuperated from his fall. I pressed the cold pack to the growing bump on his skull, and he winced but didn't complain, hand lifting to cover my own.

Once I was sure he wasn't going to keel over again, I pecked him on the forehead affectionately before sliding to my feet, letting him sit on the hard ground to slowly recover his wits. "How are you handling it Scott?" I asked casually, moving back to my vacated seat. "Coping with the pain?"

"It's not so bad," he told me with only a slight wince.

"How's it looking?" Stiles asked curiously, pushing himself onto his knees once again to peer at the needles puncturing the werewolf's skin. I realised what was going to happen, but again didn't do anything about it, watching as his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the cold ground.

Sometimes I found it hard to believe this was the kid I was in love with.


"You okay?" Stiles asked as he pulled the door shut behind him. I slid into the backseat, shuffling forwards to peer over the seat at them, resting my chin on my folded hands.

"It burns," the werewolf responded with a confused frown.

I snorted and he shot me an irritated look. "Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred-thousand times with a needle," he snarked back.

"Yeah but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this." Stiles shrugged, taking the ice pack off his head and turning to face the wheel. Suddenly Scott let out a loud, pained grunt, jumping in his seat and holding his bandaged arm out in pain. "Oh God, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this! I've gotta take this thing off!"

Stiles shook his head, cringing and looking away, clearly it was the last thing he wanted to see in that moment.

Scott pulled off the bandage, and we all peered at the black inked and red skin. Like water dripping over the tattoo, the ink began to disappear, leaving smooth, tan, unblemished skin behind. Scott looked devastated, Stiles cringing while I stared with thinly veiled interest. "It healed," the wolf stated miserably.

"Thank God," Stiles sighed with relief. "I hated it." Scott turned to look at his best friend in obvious irritation. "Sorry," he apologised as an afterthought before putting the jeep into drive and pulling out of the street. "I know you have a kink for power, but you could have told him it would heal," he said over his shoulder, and I glared at him dangerously.

"I didn't know," I said to Scott, ignoring the human completely. "Vampires can get them with no problems, I didn't think it would be any different for a werewolf."

"Why do you think you can get them and not me?" he asked curiously, disappointment in his puppy-dog eyes.

"We can heal our wounds, but we're still technically dead," I explained, not even sure if what I was saying was scientifically sound. "My best guess is that our system doesn't see a tattoo as a threat to our safety or ability to function, so it doesn't heal itself." My explanation didn't seem to make him feel any better, and he merely pouted sadly and slumped in his seat, making me feel oddly guilty. "You should see Derek," I suggested quietly, clicking my tongue idly and peering at him through the soft glow of the streetlight. "He has tattoos. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

"Yeah," the wolf mumbled, tipping his head back and huffing.

"If we're taking votes I say it's a bad idea including him," Stiles spoke up.

"Well we're not, so shut up," I snapped back with little bite. He grumbled under his breath which I politely ignored.

"Have you heard from Allison?" Scott asked suddenly, making me frown at him through the gloom.

"You ask me every time I see you," I grumbled with displeasure, and he had the decency to appear ashamed.

"And every time you say no, when I know for a fact that isn't true."

My head whipped around to glare at Stiles accusingly, glad when he winced in discomfort. "I refuse to get in the middle of this one," he said quickly, switching lanes to serve as a distraction.

"Look, what happens between us girls, stays between us girls," I repeated, irritated by the way Stiles snorted with thinly veiled amusement. My palm smacked into the back of his head, and he grunted in pain at the blow. "If she didn't ask me not to say anything, you know that you'd already know."

"I know, we agreed to give each other the summer," Scott explained for the hundredth time with a sigh. "No texts, no calls."

"So how do you know she won't be back at school then?" Stiles interjected curiously.

"After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all," Scott murmured dejectedly, and I clicked my tongue in a strange show of sympathy. My gaze snapped to Stiles, alarmed when his pulse spiked.

"I think she is," he told his best friend tightly. "I'd say pretty definite, you know? Like 100 percent."

Scott cocked his head confusedly, and the pale human pointed passed him to something out the window. Both of us turned to look, Scott's heart rate jumping when he caught sight of the girl in the car next to us, chatting to Lydia Martin with a wide grin. "Hm," I hummed with interest, dropping my head back onto my folded hands and watching the scene playing out before me.

Things were peaceful for a long moment as he stared at his lady love, but the peace was broken mere moments later when the dark haired beauty caught his gaze through the glass. "Oh my God," they both exclaimed in sheer horror, both ducking in their seats like it would make a difference. "Can you just drive, please Stiles?" Scott snapped irritatedly, gesturing desperately to the empty stretch of road.

"It's a red light," the human responded helplessly.

"Take pity on the guy," I mumbled to my boyfriend, smirking with amusement in the flustered wolf's direction. "I'll get you out of a ticket," I promised him, not that it did any good, because the kid winced reluctantly.

"I think we should talk to them. I think we should say something," he powered on cluelessly, and I snorted quietly behind my hand, pressing my lips together and biting down on the seam to keep a rather inappropriate chuckle in.

"No."

"I'm just going to say hi," he continued and, much to the werewolf's horror, leaned over, rolling down the window and grinning out ignorantly at the pair of girls in the car beside us.

"Oh my God, dude, no!"

"Hey...!" Stiles shouted out the partially opened window, not a second before the screeching of rubber on the road filled the air, smoke appearing at the other car's wheels as they took off, speeding directly through the red light.

I leaned back and sighed, exasperated by the dramatics of it all. Petty. That was the word. Humans were so petty.

"You know, they probably didn't see us," my freckled human reasoned after a thick pause.

I couldn't help but reach forwards and flick the back of Stiles' ear. The kid yelped but wisely didn't object, merely grumbling under his breath as the light turned green, pressing his foot to the gas and heading along the road behind the other car. "What are you doing?" Scott asked in sheer alarm.

"...Driving?" he asked, strong brows pulling together.

"We're right behind them."

"Well do you see any turns?"

"I don't want it to look like we're following them."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Anything!"

In a desperate move bred from lack of options, Stiles slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the Jeep to a skidding stop. I caught myself on the back of the front seat, cussing under my breath as I righted myself, leaning over the back to peer at the heavily breathing children in the front. "Take a second," I told them both, barely restrained annoyance in my tone. "And ask yourselves, 'was that really necessary'?"

Neither boy replied, staring out into the night where I caught the glow of the girls' car's brake lights lighting up, signalling their hurried stop. The boys cast confused looks at each other, bewilderment in their eyes.

"You should go talk to them," Stiles muttered after a moment, eyes on the car ahead of us on the otherwise deserted road.

I nodded absently, assuming he was speaking to Scott until I glanced to my left to see him staring at me expectantly. "Excuse me?" I asked, raising incredulous eyebrows. "How would that even slightly help this situation?"

"You're a girl, they're girls," he listed like it meant something, gesturing uselessly to punctuate his words.

"Don't pull the gender card-"

My scathing words were abruptly cut off by the sound of shattering glass and terrified screams. Jumping in alarm, within a second I was out of the Jeep and in front of the other car, hands balled into fists, preparing to defend my female friends – and I used that term loosely.

It became clear a beat later that there was, in fact, no threat. The corpse of a buck was hanging from the windscreen, blood dripping to the dirty ground. I looked up at the girls, who had hastily climbed from the vehicle, still reeling. I met Lydia's eyes, and she flinched.

I realised that I hadn't spoken to her all summer – or, in other words – since she found out I was one of the undead. I hadn't really given her much thought to be completely honest, she wasn't exactly on my radar, especially once I didn't have to see her at school every day. By the way her already frantic heart sped up, I got the feeling she was still somewhat coming to terms with what I was. But I figured that moment wasn't the time to have a Q&A session with the redhead.

"Are you okay?!" Scott asked worriedly, skidding to a stop by Allison's side, Stiles on his heels.

"It came out of nowhere," Lydia panted, moving her attention from me to Stiles, who looked over her in concern.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her in worry.

"He ran right into us." They seemed to be taking it rather well, neither particularly spiralling into shock. Until, that is, Lydia cracked, shouting into the night, eyes watering as she pressed her hands to her head.

"You good Allison?" I asked softly over the top of the car, and though she didn't respond verbally, she nodded gently, attempting a smile that fell flat.

I took a breath in, jaw clicking when the scent of undoubtedly human blood met me. "I saw it's eyes right before it hit us. It was like it was crazy," Lydia continued, and I frowned with concealed worry.

"No, it was scared," Scott corrected gently, stepping closer to the dead animal and laying a hand on it's rapidly cooling coat. "Actually, terrified."

He looked up at me, a question I'd already anticipated in his chocolate eyes. "I'm already on it," I assured him, stepping closer to Stiles and ignoring the way Lydia instinctively shifted away from me. "Clean their wounds as soon as possible," I told my boyfriend seriously, leaning into him as he stepped closer to me. "Who knows what terrors the scent of their blood will draw out?"

"What?" Lydia asked shakily, peering into the shadows. "What's out there?"

"That's what I'm going to find out," I told her calmly, and for a moment she didn't look as afraid.

"Are you sure you should be-?"

I grabbed Stiles' hand, tugging him to me and silencing him by pressing my lips to his. He hummed into my mouth, but didn't have time to reciprocate as I pulled back almost instantly. "I'm a big girl," I told him with a smirk, squeezing his hand once before moving away, already heading down the road. "And call somebody!" I called back to them seriously. "The bigger the group, the less likely an attack."

"An attack from what?"

I decided it was better not to answer.

The forest was empty. I didn't know what I was expecting, but the complete and total lack of life within it's gloomy depths had even my hair on end. I walked at a human pace, my footsteps silent on the still-wet grass. I sniffed every few steps, smelling nothing but dew and the fading scents of animals.

About a half hour into my patrol of the area, I felt eyes on me. Unsettling though it may have been, I hadn't been kidding when I'd told Stiles I could take care of myself. I glared into the shadows, daring whatever was watching to come at me; I was ready. The smell of wolf was thick, so thick it nearly choked me. Wet dog, and blood. Something had happened there, something involving werewolves, I just wasn't sure what.

There was a crack, one too loud and too deliberate to be an accident. I spun around, fist already formed and swinging, only to be caught by a strong, lean and equally cool hand.

I stared.

It had been a long time since I'd stared into such dark eyes. A brown that bordered on black in the shadows, but glinted like fire in the sunlight. The mischievous smirk was firmly in place, sending a twisted form of nostalgia shuddering through me. I was the person I was today because of the Original family. I got my studiousness from time spent around Elijah, my apathy and corresponding passion from the influence of Klaus, my womanly charms from the devious Rebekah.

My worst trait by far, however, came from the vampire standing before me.

It was this handsome, dark-eyed man who'd taught me to crave chaos. He'd taught me to desire destruction and pain, to lust after anguish and mayhem, to live off the torture of others. From the moment I was turned, he had been the devil on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, teaching me where to bite to inflict the most pain; which bones to break to make escape impossible; how to tear someone apart and piece them back together so I could do it all over again; how to revel in the chase, and savour the kill.

"Kol."

The Original-bad-influence grinned, flattening out my fist and threading our fingers together with a cheeky grin. I pulled away instantly, scowling up at the taller vampire with distaste. "Come now darling," he said jovially, blinking at me with false innocence. "I've been daggered for over a century, I deserve at the very least a kiss."

"What are you doing here?" I questioned coldly.

"Well, you can't blame me for not sticking around to play with old 'holier-then-thou' when I got undaggered," he jeered in antipathy at his – blessedly not present – older brother.

"So you came to me?" I asked incredulously, eyebrows raising in pure disbelief.

"I thought to myself, 'who knows how to have fun, and won't rat me out to my family first chance they get?" he told me in that smooth accent of his. "And, sweetheart, your name was at the top of the list."

"Lucky me," I sneered, only serving to make his grin widen. "Hate to break it to you," I muttered unapologetically, crossing my arms over my chest and frowning at him through the shadows. "But I'm no longer a crazy, impressionable newborn. I've got my own shit to deal with, and you, sweetheart, are at the bottom of the list."

"Ouch," he muttered sarcastically, placing a hand over his still heart. "What are you saying?"

"Look, I'm on a diet. I don't eat anything that isn't in a bag," I told him simply.

He frowned disappointedly. "So no brilliant, beautiful benders will be had this day?"

My lip curled at his mocking, and he grinned cheekily. "Just do the world a favour and dagger yourself again," I sneered with disdain.

"Why must you hurt me so?" he asked playfully, and I pointedly ignored the curl of pleasure I felt in my gut at the familiar banter. "Look," he said, suddenly becoming serious. "I just need somewhere to – how do they say it now days? – lay low."

"I have rules," I began pointlessly.

He threw his head back and groaned dramatically. "Darling, don't fool yourself. You know any rules you set I'll have to break purely on principle."

"Requests then," I corrected with a growl.

"Request away," he allowed with a wave of his hand, grinding on my nerves more than I'd wish to admit.

"Please don't kill anyone in town," I said, cracking my knuckles absentmindedly. "By all means, have your fun, compel to your heart's content and sample everyone you meet if you so wish it. But, for the love of God, just don't kill anyone."

He peered at my through dark, narrowed eyes. "Why should I?"

"Call it a favour to an old friend?"

He pouted excessively. "I used to know this bird, Juliet Adams she was called," he began, gesturing theatrically, and I stepped away, rolling my eyes in exasperation. "She was ever so fun. The best at inflicting torture that I'd ever seen, bar the members of my own family, of course. Oh how she enjoyed the chaos, the turmoil, the sheer pandemonium. You wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?"

"Clever," I sneered through the dark, the moonlight lighting up his pale face as he grinned cheekily. "I grew up, I suggest you do the same. You are, after all, a good eight centuries my senior."

"Play nice," he chastised impishly. That was Kol, always playful, always flirty. He was exactly the kind of person one would think a gal like me would be perfect with. But the thing was, it didn't work. Sure, Klaus was probably the main reason we never went there, but I felt like even if we had it wouldn't have panned out. We were too alike, far too alike, for it to work. We were the identical ends of a magnet, so alike that we repelled each other. "Well?" he prompted expectantly, pulling me abruptly from my thoughts. "Lead the way."

I blinked. "To where?" I asked with honest confusion.

He sighed tiredly, like he was trying to teach physics to a toddler. "Your lodgings."

"Uh, where to even begin," I wandered aloud. "Firstly, I'm not passing through, I live here, so I have a house. And secondly, you're not staying with me."

"I beg to differ."

"Excuse me?" I asked so coldly that, were it anyone else I was having the conversation with, they would back down instantly. I wasn't so lucky.

"I've decided I shall be staying with you," he said simply, grinning like he knew exactly how big of a pain he was. "Show me to your accommodations."

"Again, it's a house that I own," I bit out, only serving to widen his smirk. "Can't you just get a hotel room? Your family has more cash than the Queen. Hell, why don't you just buy a hotel."

"Well, considering I've been daggered for the last century, I'm not exactly the family account holder. And since brother and I aren't on speaking terms, looks like I'll be leeching off you for the foreseeable future."

I stared at him, scrutinising cautiously. "There's no one else you'd rather bunk down with?" I asked in a roundabout way of asking if I was really all my old friend had left.

His smirk faltered for the briefest of seconds, before it was back in place at full force. "I'll keep out of your hair," he swore, though I couldn't help but doubt it. "I just want to enjoy being amongst the living once more."

"Fine," I relented with a grimace. "But I mean it, Kol, one dead body and your brother will have your exact coordinates."

"Juliet, darling, you're brilliant," he grinned brightly, taking a moment to sober. "And I assume that, past county lines, all bets are off and everything with a pulse is fair game?"

"I don't care where, when or who you hunt, as long as this town is exempt."

"You drive a hard bargain, my love," he responded cheekily. "But you have yourself a deal."


"Where the bloody hell are you going at this hour?"

I looked into the lounge, raising an eyebrow at the dishevelled looking Kol, who was half propped up on the couch, squinting at what little light there was in the room. "I have school," I informed him, eyeing the empty bottles and equally empty blood bags surrounding the Original, partly impressed and partly disgusted.

"You're joking," he stated, staring at me blearily.

"I'm not," I mumbled back, adjusting the strap of my bag and reaching down to slip my feet into my favourite black boots.

Apparently deciding that was a discussion for another time, he changed the subject. "Why does it reek of human in here?" he asked, nose scrunching in distaste.

I didn't want to tell him, I wasn't sure why. Maybe I didn't want him to laugh at me, but I shook that one off. I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed by Stiles, and I wasn't going to start now. "My boyfriend spent most of the summer here," I clipped, and he took a moment to process my words before his eyes shot open wider and a devious smirk spread across his lips.

"No," his tone was one of mixed amusement and disbelief.

"Yes," I countered with a stern glare.

"A human?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," I repeated.

His snickered gleefully. "Oh, how the mighty fall."

"Suck a dick, Kol," I growled, throwing up my middle finger aggressively. He continued to chuckle even as I turned to leave. I opened my front door, glaring irritatedly into the sunlight. First Damon, now Kol. I'd never be rid of these idiots. "Try not to burn my house down while I'm out," I snapped back over me shoulder, and he only sniggered louder in response.

I'd left early enough to catch Stiles before he came to get me, decreasing the chances of him coming face to face with Kol. I was going to tell him, I really was, I just had to find the right time. Letting myself into the house as Stiles insisted I do, I followed the sounds of human bickering up the stairs and into my boyfriends room, where the sheriff was standing over his son, scowling down at him and groaning about wishing he'd had a daughter instead.

"Everything okay?" I asked evenly, propping myself up against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow at the pair who hadn't noticed me.

They shot up, John's hands leaving his son and Stiles' face flushing with embarrassment. Clearing their throats simultaneously, they straightened themselves up, pretending I hadn't caught them squabbling like children. "We were just – ah," Stiles stopped himself, clearly not having a good answer for me.

"Come on," I prompted him with a relaxed smile, his mere presence calming me more than even my smokes could. "Don't want to be late for your first day as a Junior."

"Yes," he nodded, darting to his bed and slipping his bag onto his back before moving to my side. "See you after school, dad."

The sheriff stared at him incredulously. "So she asks you to go and you get up no questions asked?" he asked his son with raised brows. "Unbelievable."

"You're not a gorgeous vamp-girl," he corrected himself with a wince as I snorted discretely. "Girl. Human. Gorgeous human girl. I mean, of course she's human, why wouldn't she be-"

"This is getting weird," John muttered to me as Stiles continued to babble. I smirked, reaching out and pressing my palm to his moving lips.

"See you later, sheriff," I told him with a smile, using my other hand to take Stiles' arm and pull him from the room.

"Have a good first day!" he called from behind us as we made our way down the hall. "Both of you!"

I felt a warm glow at being included in something so domestic, finally letting go of Stiles' mouth and moving with him to the first floor, watching as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl before continuing through to the front door.

"I thought I was picking you up from your place?" he asked as we slid into the Jeep, him munching loudly on his breakfast. I wondered whether it was good enough for him, didn't humans need more than a piece of fruit to get them through the morning? I decided to look it up in the library later.

"I woke up early," I lied, guilt like battery acid churning in my gut. "Thought I'd come to you." I glanced out the window, peering up at the partially cloudy sky. "Scott taking his new motorbike to school?"

"Yeah. He's so happy that he saved up enough to get it," he replied with a grin. "It's not half bad, for what he paid for it, at least. I mean it could use a paint job, or seven, but it's a start."

"Good for him," I nodded, reaching forwards and pressing the button I knew to be the radio one, smiling gladly when soft music filled the car.

"So what happened last night?" he asked through a mouthful of apple, turning onto the main road and heading towards the school.

"What do you mean?" I countered, hoping I didn't sound defensive.

"Well, a text that says 'didn't find anything. Sleep well' isn't exactly top tier communication," he responded lightly, nodding his head to the beat of the song. "You didn't find anything? No odd scents? Nothing that could have scared the buck?"

I pressed my lips together. Now would be the perfect time to tell him about Kol, but something in me told me to wait. It may have been mere self-preservation, in fact it more than likely was. But above all else, I listened to my instincts. So, whatever the cause, I would obey. "Caught the scent of a pack," I told him, only lying by omission and figuring it would have to do. "It was fresh, so it wasn't the one from a few weeks ago."

"You think there's another pack in town?"

I shrugged. "They were probably just passing through," I told him honestly, running a hand through my midnight locks. "I wouldn't be too concerned."

We were quiet for the rest of the short trip, Stiles humming along to the music while I forced myself not to think about Kol, or the promise he made me that I wasn't sure he would keep, or the fact that I hadn't immediately told Stiles what was happening. Overcome with a sense of despair, I turning to Stiles, mouth open to tell him everything.

But he was already climbing from the car. I blinked at the empty seat, not having even felt us pull up at school. My door cracked open and Stiles' scent washed over me with the breeze. I took his offered hand – something in me from long ago cooing at the sweet gesture – allowing him to tug me a tad too roughly from the car. Stiles was by far my favourite human, and he had many fantastic traits. Being smooth was not one of them.

"How was the drive here, mr responsible vehicle owner?" Stiles asked brightly as we met Scott at the doors to the school, clapping his friend on the back before throwing his arm over my shoulders, tugging me to his side. I let him, pleased by the open display of affection in a way that surprised me.

"The brakes stick a little, but it just needs another service, I think," the wolf replied, stepping out of the way of a frantic looking freshman, leading us down the hall. "So I was thinking about what you said about my tattoo," he told me, lips tipping up as he peered at me and his best friend.

"Huh?" I questioned, trying to remember what I'd suggested.

"About seeing Derek?" he reminded me.

"What?" Stiles asked suddenly, spine straightening. "You wanna ask Derek for help. Why? Why?"

"Jules is right, he's got the triskelion tattooed on his back," he explained rationally. "So there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?"

"Yeah, but still," Stiles replied in a whiny tone that would usually annoy me, but he made it slightly more tolerable. "Doesn't he have his hands a little full?" he asked, gesturing to the notice board to the right of us with Erica and Boyd's photographs pinned to the fabric. A few weeks into the summer, Derek had come to me and asked for help looking for the pair. Something about having a bad feeling. Figuring I might need him to do me a favour somewhere down the track, I agreed, and had been doing scouts every few days since. None of us had found anything as of yet, and with every passing day hope was growing rapidly smaller.

An irritating sounding voice flooded the hallway, and the three of us peered around the corner, eyeing the heavy-set, stern looking principle with a head of bleached hair, holding up what appeared to be a samurai sword.

I just hoped this one wouldn't be as much of a dick as the last one. Or have a prejudice against my friends and I.

As we fled the scene, desperate to stay off the new guy's radar, Scott came to a halt, making Stiles run into his broad shoulders and grunt, taking me with him. "Jules?" the wolf asked sweetly, turning around to meet my eye.

"What do you want?" I asked humourlessly, pursing my blood red lips and narrowing my kohl rimmed eyes.

"I'm not asking you to spy, or anything of the sort," he told me seriously, a touch of desperation to his tone. "But, could you just go make sure Allison's okay?"

My nose scrunched at him. "She's a big girl," I told him, reminding myself of the other night. "She can take care of herself."

"I know she can," he muttered back purely gently, as only Scott McCall could. "But I think she could use a friend."

"She has Lydia," I argued. I hadn't spoken to the hunter's daughter much over the summer, only receiving the odd text or email. They were usually short and to the point, but nonetheless friendly. I wondered all the time why she would contact me of all people, but I let it go, responding back curtly and returning to normal life without giving it much thought.

"Please?" he begged me with those lethal puppy-dog eyes that I loathed so much.

"You're buying me a bottle of Jack," I grunted, leaning into Stiles briefly before spinning around and pushing past Scott, heading for the direction Allison's locker was in.

"Your girlfriend's an alcoholic," I heard the wolf mutter.

"I know," Stiles responded airily, and I could hear the dopey smile in his voice. I bit my lip to contain a grin, shoving a smaller kid out of the way and turning the corner.

The girl's didn't realise I was there for a long time, so I finally cleared my throat to announce my presence. Allison looked up, eyes widening in surprise as she spotted me. "Jules," she said, blinking at me with bewilderment. "What's up?"

Usually I would tell her the real reason I was there, but something made me pause. She probably wouldn't be happy knowing Scott was – as much as he denied it – keeping tabs on her. "How was France?" I asked conversationally, forcing myself to appear casual as I leant up against the cool metal of the lockers.

"Amazing," she said quietly, not quite making me believe she meant it. She surveyed me for a long time, I had no problem standing straight, staring right back at her as she scrutinised me. "Did Scott send you?"

I didn't want to lie, but who was I kidding? Lying was practically my default setting. "No," I replied flatly, cocking my head, emerald eyes fixed on the dark haired beauty.

"So, you and Stiles, huh?" she asked a moment later, succeeding in breaking the tension. I was reminded of a time so many months ago in the woods, hiding out with a police transport vehicle when she'd said the same thing. At the time I'd had a different answer.

"Yeah," I nodded, idly fingering the material of my bag strap.

"Finally," she said, aiming for humorous but falling short.

Lydia, apparently decided she couldn't handle the walking on glass. "Freshmen," she said abruptly, gazing into the distance. "Tons and tons of fresh-men." I followed her line of sight, peering curiously at the boys lining the hall. They looked a little old to be freshmen, but I'd long since figured that there was probably something in the water supply of this Godforsaken town. I didn't find them particularly attractive, but everyone had a type, I supposed.

To her credit, they did smell amazing. I, not for the first time, deeply wished I hadn't made an oath. Breaking my diet sounded pretty sweet right then.

"You mean fresh boys?" Allison corrected, relaxing slightly. "Lydia, they're fourteen."

"Some are more mature than others," the strawberry blonde shrugged, licking her lips subconsciously.

"You know it's okay to be single. Focus on yourself for a little while; work on becoming a better person," Allison muttered thoughtfully.

"Allison," Lydia began with a laugh. "I love you." Instantly I cringed, wishing I were anywhere but there. "So if you need to do that thing where we talk about me and pretend that we're not actually talking about you, it's totally fine." She paused, assessing the crowd again. "But I don't want a boyfriend."

She eyed a seriously tall teen walking passed, eyes dropping to his ass as he left.

"I want a distraction."

"Lydia," I couldn't help but say with a smirk, head tipping back against the lockers. "You would make a superb vampire."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Was that a compliment or an offer?"

I grinned impishly, a fierceness in the way I flashed my teeth that should have frightened her, but she merely tilted her head. "Both," I told her, wagging my eyebrows playfully.

To my great surprise, a smile spread across her full rose coloured lips, a mirth in her eyes that I hadn't expected.

Before I could comment further, a prickling at my neck caught my attention, and on instinct I looked up, eyes sweeping the crowd, looking for the source of the feeling. Lydia made a pleased humming noise in the back of her throat as she spotted the same thing I had.

"Brothers?" Allison asked.

"Twins," she responded gleefully.

They had strong, striking features, clearly appealing to the redhead, whose heart sped up as she watched them. They also weren't my type physically, but the head to toe leather was a nice touch. As they passed I took an instinctual breath in. I wasn't sure what I had expected them to smell like, something supernatural from the weird vibe they gave me.

When I inhaled nothing but soap, leather and motor oil, I was equal parts surprised and relieved. Maybe I was just over-sensitive, looking for danger in everything. That made sense.

The bell above us rang, the sound echoing through the hall. "Come on," Allison said, pulling both of our attention away from the fresh meat. "We have English."

All the seats around Stiles were taken when I got to the classroom, but that wasn't a problem. Approaching the girl sitting behind my boyfriend, I leaned down, locking eyes with her pointedly. "You're going to switch seats," I commanded her with practised ease.

"I'm switching seats," she repeated mindlessly, gathering her things and pushing herself to her feet, moving to the other end of the room.

"I love it when you do that," Stiles chimed with a pleased grin, and I smirked back, dropping my bag at the leg of my chair and kicking my feet up on the desk.

"I love it when I do that too," I responded cheekily, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

My phone buzzed in the pocket of my dark jeans, and I pulled it out, raising an eyebrow as every other phone in the room lit up with the same message. I glanced to the door, watching warily as a pretty lady in delicate clothes strode into the room, reading aloud the passage that had just been texted to us. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read," she continued softly, smiling at the class. "It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to turn the device off before shoving it back in my pocket.

"And miss Cooper?" the sweet voice said, and it took me a moment to recognise the name as my current alias. I glanced up, peering at her over my boots, sharp eyebrow raised. "Feet off the desk, please."

Although I didn't want to, I didn't see the point in getting in trouble just because I felt like being difficult. So with a rude sneer in her direction I planted my feet flat on the floor.

The class didn't get any more interesting after that, merely copying notes off the board, no discussion necessary. She seemed sweet enough, but there was something about her that I didn't like. Maybe it was the fact that she hacked the class's phones, maybe it was the fact she reeked of too much perfume. Either way, I had a feeling English would soon become my least favourite subject of the year.

Scott got called out of class halfway through, and I whispered a request to keep Stiles and I in the loop, knowing he'd pick it up. He nodded to me as he left the room, and I went back to sketching a skull and crossbones on a blank piece of paper.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles whispered suddenly, only a few moments after Scott had left. I looked up from my doodling to watch the conversation warily. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to a bandage on her ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No," she muttered back under her breath. "Prada bit me."

"Your dog?"

"No my designer handbag." I snorted, the sound loud enough to carry through the room, making several heads turn towards me, including the teacher's. I cleared my throat to cover it and pretended to be completely focused on my work. "Yes, my dog."

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head with a wince. "Okay, what if it's like the same thing as the deer? You know, like how animals start acting weird before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just – maybe it means something's coming," he said with a huff. "Something bad."

I felt guilty again. What if Kol was the 'something bad'? I knew that was ridiculous, so I pushed it from my mind before the thought could completely form.

"It was a deer and a dog," Lydia said slowly, staring at Stiles like he was losing it. "What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice-"

There was a dull thud, and I tensed, preparing to defend my friends in the event of an attack. I realised how silly that was a moment later. What the hell would attack a high school English class in the middle of the day? Glancing to the left, I saw the familiar smear of blood against the glass, a bird having hit the surface.

A chill ran up my spine, and for the third time that morning, I knew something was wrong. Hearing the sound of a murder of crows cawing in the distance, heading right for us, I slid from my desk, moving to Stiles' side. "Get down," I told him softly, hand braced on his shoulder.

"What?"

"Now, Stiles," I hissed, staring at the oncoming wall of crows. He sucked in a sharp breath just as I shoved him none too gently to the ground. He grunted and hit the floor just as one of the windows smashed. I caught the crow that burst into the room, crushing it in my fist and dropping it apathetically to the floor. I was only one person, however, and when they just kept coming, there was little I could do but cover my head and wait for it to be over.

The birds pecked at my arms and exposed skin, but the pain didn't really affect me. I shoved the bloody crows off me with a grunt, feeling blood trickle down my cheek.

It only lasted maybe a minute, then everything fell eerily silent, bodies of the dead crows littering the ground. I hope that meant we could go home.

Stiles was fine, I pulled him up from the ground, looking him over carefully. He was scratch free, but I didn't for a second not see that he had been using himself to shield Lydia. I didn't know how I felt about that at first, but I decided not to care. Stiles was sweet, he'd have done it for any of his friends. And Lydia was just that; a friend.

"I guess that makes three," the kid himself mumbled to me, and I nodded, idly nudging a dead crow with my foot.


"Derek's house," Stiles muttered under his breath in agitation, reversing out of his parking space and pulling out onto the road. "Why don't we all go to Derek's house?" he continued sarcastically. "Doesn't that seem like a spectacular idea?"

"Oh, Derek's harmless," I rolled my eyes, picking up the bottle of coke he had sitting beside him, taking a mouthful.

"Harmless?" he swung around to stare at me incredulously, even though he really should have been watching the road. "Harmless?"

"Calm down," I told him with a loud exhale.

"The stress that idiotic alpha has given me has probably shaved a good ten years off my life," he growled, angrily changing gears and speeding up.

I snorted loudly. "Considering you're most likely going to become immortal some time in the next few years, I'd say you're pretty safe."

Stiles knew I had a point, but wasn't in the mood to admit it. "Well at the very least I'll go prematurely grey," he grumbled childishly.

"I happen to think you'd make a rather dashing silver fox," I hummed, reaching across the gearshift to run my fingers through his soft hair.

"Good thing we'll never have to find out," he replied, still sounding rather put out. I smiled at him, once again marvelling at his sureness to be like me.

I wondered, briefly, about his motives. Did he want me for me, or did he want me to turn him? I brushed off the troubling thoughts before they could fully form, not in the mood for doubts.

"Please tell me you're not still squatting in the burnt down remains of your childhood home," I drawled, stepping over a chipped hunk of wood in the entryway and wandering further into the house carcass. "I bet the psychiatrist's would have a field day with you."

Derek looked up at me from where he was tending to Isaac, an unimpressed scowl on his striking features. "I'm not squatting here," he grunted, turning back to his work.

"So where're you living then, since I didn't get the memo about your change in address – oh wait," I paused suddenly like I'd remembered something. "I don'tcare."

Stiles snorted from behind me, sniggering as he followed me into the charred room, idly glancing at the unconscious beta on the table. "You know, since I'm doing your friend a favour, you could at least be civil," the alpha muttered under his breath.

"This is her being civil," Stiles responded, moving to Scott's side.

"So what happened at the school that was so important?" the wolf asked with a frown, jaw clicking as he waited.

Stiles launched into the story animatedly, gesturing wildly as he described the crows showering through the windows, feathers everywhere.

"So, you wanna revisit that thing where I told you to keep me in the loop or you'd lose a testicle?" I asked under my breath, going unnoticed by the teen boys who were wrapped up in their conversation. "Anything you feel like sharing?"

Derek looked up at me with barely concealed contempt, but I kept my features easily schooled. "Come on Scott," he said abruptly, stepping away from Isaac and pointing to a trunk, gesturing for the beta to take a seat. "Yeah, I see it," he told him quietly, eyes flashing momentarily red. "It's two bands, right?"

"Yeah."

"What does it mean?" the alpha asked, sitting back up properly. I stepped around the wolves, moving, as though it was instinct, to Stiles' side. Not feeling like being overly affectionate, and therefore vulnerable, in Derek's presence, I settled for merely threading my arm through his, leaning my weight against him gently. The small gesture made his heart race, and I turned to press my mouth against his shoulder to hide a pleased smirk.

"I don't know," Scott replied softly, absently reaching out to trace the symbol in the dust on the box beside him. "It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Do you know what the word tattoo means?"

"To mark something," Stiles interjected smugly, and with an exasperated but fond eye roll, I nudged him with my hip.

"That's in Tahitian," Scott corrected gently. "In Samoan in means open wound. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen, I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now to make it kind of a reward."

"A reward for what?" I asked lightly, gripping on to Stiles slightly tighter as I awaited his answer, something in me feeling moved by the tenderness in his tone.

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to. Even when it was so hard not to sometimes... I was just trying to give her the space she wants."

I wanted to groan at his answer when I first heard it. The kid was so completely consumed by the girl, it couldn't have been at all healthy. Then Stiles squeezed my hand, and I realised I was probably no better. I tried to imagine going three months without having any contact with Stiles. Even it being a hypothetical situation wasn't enough to keep the stab of hurt at bay. I grit my teeth, wincing as I tried to put it from my mind how pathetically dependant I'd become on the human.

"And four months later it still hurts. It still feel like a – um..."

"Like an open wound," Stiles nodded understandingly, and I caught him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I could have sworn my still heart jumped, and I wondered whether he was thinking the same thing I was. It was pitiful if he were, though I couldn't help but admit it pleased me.

"The pain's going to be worse than anything you've ever felt," Derek told the boy simply, apparently satisfied with the answers he'd received. Stiles winced in sympathy, not even knowing what was going to happen. The alpha reached behind him, pulling out what looked like a blow torch.

"Do it."

Derek lit the torch, fire spitting from the end. Stiles jumped, exclaiming his severe dislike for the entire situation. "I'll take that as my cue," he mumbled, detaching himself from me and all but running around the pair of dogs to get to the door.

"I think you should stay," I called out as I caught the terrified expression on Scott's face. Stiles paused, grimacing back at the three of us in distaste. "Scott needs a friend with him."

Scott neither confirmed nor denied this, merely pressing his lips together and staring wide eyed at the blow torch. With a reluctant but accepting sigh, Stiles moved to Scott's side, patting him comfortingly on the back. "You got him?" Derek asked me after a moment.

My hands wrapped themselves around Scott's broad shoulders, and he flinched at the feeling of my cold temperature against his naturally warm skin. "I've got him," I confirmed, pressing the wolf into the box he was sitting on, arms tensed as I prepared to hold him down.

A beat, then the screaming started. As the fire melted away Scott's skin, he wailed at the top of his lungs, tears forming in his brown eyes. He thrashed, trying to get away from the source of the agony, but I held him down, nails digging into his skin as I struggled to keep my grip.

He barely handled a full minute before he passed out from the pain, and Stiles gagged, looking in the opposite direction to the bleeding skin. Derek continued for several minutes, and I kept my hands where they were just in case he jumped back to life. It was a rare occasion that I was in a room with someone who was screaming and I didn't enjoy it. A sickening feeling curdled in my gut, knowing Scott was in pain, but I ignored it and a moment later the torch was turned off, the skin already beginning to stitch itself back together.

"Oh God," Stiles muttered sickly, grimacing and turning away from the gruesome sight.

"He'll heal," Derek said with apparent apathy, though I could swear I saw a hint of sympathy in his forest green gaze. "He wanted it bad enough, so he'll be okay." He looked at me then, a rare curiosity in his eyes. "200 years," he said conversationally. "Never got any ink?"

"Never had anything mean enough for me to want to," I responded honestly, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop.

There was a pause, then Scott startled awake, panting heavily as he recovered. "It worked," he said with clear surprise, blinking down at the new mark with happiness. He glanced back up at the alpha, gratitude shining in those puppy-dog eyes. "Thanks."

"Now we're even," Derek responded cooly putting down the blow torch in his hand and moving back to Isaac's side.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles piped up, colour beginning to return to his cheeks as he stood up with the teen wolf, clapping him on the shoulder that hadn't just healed third degree burns.

"I kinda needed something permanent," he told his friend, rolling down his sleeve. "With everything that's happened to us," he continued, and I listened absently as I instinctively followed the pair, winding my arm with Stiles' once more. "Everything just changes so fast. Everything's so...ephemeral." My eyebrows raised in surprise, not having expected the young wolf to have such a vocabulary.

"Studying for the PSAT's?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

That made more sense.

Without further fanfare we turned, Scott reaching for the handle and pulling open the front door, only to stop with it halfway open, staring at the new coat of red paint that shined in the natural light.

"You painted the door," he called to Derek with a confused and apprehensive frown. I realised how odd it was. Why would he bother painting the door to the ruins of his own home. Why now, when he wasn't even squatting there anymore? "Why'd you paint the door?" he asked, tone deadly serious.

"Go home, Scott."

The curt reply instantly had me suspicious, and I peered over my shoulder at the alpha stonily. "And why only one side?" the beta continued skeptically, running a hand over the freshly dried paint. My eyes narrowed as Derek's pulse jumped nervously, immediately putting me on edge.

Scott's hand flicked to the side, animalistic claws appearing from nowhere. With a frown, the boy dragged the claw across the paint, revealing the unmistakable outline of something graffitied onto the wood.

Heart racing, he scratched again, and again, not stopping until most of the paint was gone, revealing the clear shape of a familiar looking spiral. My gaze snapped to Derek accusingly, wondering if it meant what I thought it did.

"The birds at school, and the deer last night," Scott began, swallowing thickly. "Like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the alpha..." He paused, coming to the same conclusion I had. "How many?"

Derek looked extremely reluctant to answer, but seemed to understand that it wasn't really optional. "A pack of them," he admitted with a sigh, eyes carefully trained on Scott. "An alpha pack."

"All of them?" Stiles interjected with a frown as I released his arm, crossing both of mine over my chest as I glared at Derek. "How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader. He's called Deucalion." He paused, purposefully not meeting my lethal gaze. "We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac and I have been looking for them for the last four months." Rage reared it's ugly but familiar head in my gut, and my gums tingled, not with hunger, but with extreme animosity.

In the blink of a human eye, Derek was against the wall, my forearm braced across his throat. His eyes glowed red and he snarled on instinct, but I couldn't have cared less. "You didn't think that was something I might have needed to know?" I snarled at him furiously, and with one almighty shove I was thrust backwards, having to steady myself to stop from tripping.

"I knew if you knew, you'd run straight to your little boyfriend," he defended himself, teeth half their potential size.

"If I'd known, I could have done something."

"Like what?"

"I guess we won't know since you didn't tell me."

"I'm under no obligation to tell you anything."

"Doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it, you pathetic excuse for an alpha."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe if you weren't such an asshole, your little betas would still be here-" I was cut off by a fist slamming into my jaw. Head snapping to the side, I took the hit like a champ, merely spitting out the mouthful of blood, barely paying attention as Stiles exclaimed loudly from behind us. I heard Scott hold him back, but didn't spare a moment to look back. "That wasn't nice," I chastised with barely concealed contempt.

"Maybe if you weren't so reckless and immature, you wouldn't have gotten bitten and murdered those innocent people," he snapped back, and with an indignant roar I flung myself at him, moving fast enough to land one knee to his gut, then grab his head and bring it down on the same place.

The might alpha grunted as darted back, taking a second to regroup before he charged. He swung at my head again, but I ducked it easily, disappearing from sight only to reappear behind him. He'd anticipated this, kicking back and taking my feet out from under me.

I landed on the ground, my brow connecting with the rotted wood of the bottom step, splitting the skin and making blood drip into my eyes. With a growl I threw myself back on my feet, swinging my arm around and grinning viciously as it landing at the wolf's temple. His head snapped to the side, but he was otherwise unaffected. "You hit like a vampire," he growled, throwing a punch at my lower gut.

I sidestepped the attack, slapping him upside the head. "And you move like a werewolf," I said, once again slipping out of his reach, much faster than he could hope to be. "So I'd say we're pretty evenly matched."

"That's enough!"

Both of us stopped, turning to look at Scott who had an uncharacteristically stern look on his face.

"Stop squabbling like children," he snapped, voice like steel. I glanced at Derek, who had an unhappy scowl on his face. I hissed at him warningly before darting to Stiles' side, wiping the blood from my eyes off on the sleeve of my jacket. "Say you do find them Derek, how do you deal with an alpha pack?" he asked once he was sure we weren't going to rip each others jugulars out.

"With all the help I can get," he replied stonily, dabbing at his split lip.

"Where is she?" We all turned to look at Isaac with wide, surprised eyes. "Where's the girl?"

There was a beat.

"What girl?"