And all the kids cried out "please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

Goddamn right you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

Control - Halsey


"Okay," Stiles muttered bracingly, wandering across the room, absently patting his pockets. "Wallet, wallet, wallet," he mumbled, caramel eyes sweeping his desk.

"In the jeans in your hamper," I supplied from where I was lounged across his bed, halfheartedly completing the homework set by the new English teacher. I would usually compel my way out of it, but I knew Stiles had to do high school properly at least once – or for the first time, as it were – and it was only fair that I did the work with him.

"What are you now?" he sputtered once he'd dug the wallet out from under his old clothes. "Psychic?"

"Observant," I corrected, throwing a spare pen in his direction, purposefully missing by a few inches but enjoying the way he flinched. "Are you sure you want to go to a party?" I asked after a beat, peering at him through the soft glow of his lamp. "You could stay here and make out with me." His heart stuttered, and a heart-wrenchingly torn expression appeared on his face. I grinned up at him impishly. "Maybe more."

He swallowed, pupils blown as he stared at me.

"No," I told him with a laugh, rolling my eyes at his eagerness. "I know Scott needs to get out, and to be brutally honest, so do you."

"But your idea sounded so much better," he muttered with a frown. I smiled, my attitude switching to something more encouraging.

"Go," I insisted. "Have fun, be a teenager while you still can; make terrible choices."

His face scrunched up as he processed my words. "Shouldn't you be telling me to make good choices?"

I snorted indelicately, rolling my eyes at him fondly. "I'm not your mother. Have fun. Go wild. Just know that if you come back smelling intimately like someone else's perfume, I'll track the bitch down and rip her – or his – heart out of their ass."

"Or his-what?" he asked in a high pitch, sounding alarmed.

I looked up at him flatly. "You know I don't discriminate," I reminded him with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, but-come on," he squeaked indignantly.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find Derek even the slightest bit attractive." Stiles flushed and refused to answer, spluttering helplessly while I merely smirked knowingly, pleased with the reaction I'd gotten. "Go," I insisted, having had enough of teasing him.

"You'll just stay here?" he asked with a worried frown.

"I'll probably go for a run to the hospital, stock up on blood," I told him with a reassuring nod. "I'll survive a few hours without you, I promise."

He seemed reluctant, but I knew how he was looking forward to the party. He hadn't really done anything except spend time with Scott and I all summer. He needed human interaction, even I could tell. With a final groan he stepped forwards, leaning down to press his lips against mine, pecking me sweetly before turning and heading for the door. "I'll text you," he swore over his shoulder.

"Don't you dare," I called back playfully, and he grumbled unintelligently under his breath as he descended the stairs, the front door clicking shut quietly and his Jeep starting up in the driveway.

I couldn't be bothered going all the way to my house to change, so I had a quick shower in Stiles' bathroom, using the bottle of shampoo I kept in there for times such as these, and a bar of his soap, enjoying the faint smell of cinnamon that drifted to my nose. I dried using a fresh towel, changing into last night's jeans, one of Stiles' band shirts and one of his comfortable, worn flannels. I borrowed a pair of his socks, slipping my feet into my boots and quickly braiding my hair so it was out of my way for the run.

I locked the door behind me, using the key Stiles had given me, telling me that he knew I'd be able to get in anyway, but he didn't want me picking and/or breaking the locks of his house. I kept to the backroads, heading towards the west, where the hospital sat upwind.

I was only three blocks away when my phone rang. Assuming it was Stiles, I pulled it free of my pocket and held it to my ear, smiling exasperatedly as I answered, "darling, it really is sad that you can't go an hour without speaking to me. Sweet, but sad."

"Gross," the familiar voice of Isaac Lahey rang through the speaker, and I cringed, wishing I'd looked at the caller ID before opening my mouth. "I'm not your spastic boyfriend."

"Good, you wouldn't last two minutes with me," I growled back with a scowl, wishing he could see the lethal glint in my green eyes.

"Ooh," he responded cheekily. "Challenge accepted."

"Go suck Derek's dick," I snapped in reply, then frowned, wondering why I'd sexualised Derek twice in one night. In the end I decided I didn't care, I may not have liked the asshole, but I wasn't so ignorant to admit he wasn't slightly attractive. Then again, every reference I'd made had had gay connotation. Bloody hell, I'd be a psychiatrist's wet dream.

"Speaking of Derek," Isaac deflected smoothly. "He wants you to take the north-west."

"And do what with it?" I asked, irritated. I didn't like being told what to do.

He replied tightly, sounding just as irritated. "Try and catch the scent of the alpha pack," he responded. "He thinks he caught a weird scent near the old well a few miles north of town, but he needs more feet on the ground. Unless you're too busy romancing your human lover."

"I'll be there in two minutes," I responded with a snarl of annoyance. He laughed snidely as he hung up, and with a growl I changed directions, heading further north to complete my task.

The woods were comforting. I liked the way the shadows clung to everything, and how the world felt like it was standing still. I didn't run, keeping my hands behind my back so I wouldn't rub my scent on anything. I stepped over logs, keeping my eyes on the ground in case I found any hint of prints in the soft earth.

After only five minutes, I found the scent they'd described, and it wasn't what I'd been hoping it would be. "Goddammit Kol," I hissed under my breath, eyeing the expensive boot print in the dirt and the accompanying smell of liquor and blood that was stained onto him and would probably never fade.

"Find anything?"

I spun around, narrowing my eyes at Derek, who'd managed to sneak up on me while I was distracted. I inconspicuously stepped onto the print, destroying the evidence of my vampire friend (I use that term loosely). "No," I lied easily. "I can smell something, but I don't think it's the pack."

"Yeah," the alpha nodded, green eyes scanning the shadows. "Smells more vampire than anything."

"Nomad?" I suggested, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an indifferent eyebrow.

"Maybe."

I assessed him through the dark, peering at him closely. "How's the nose?" I asked with a mean smirk, making him glare at me amusingly.

"Healed," he responded curtly.

"That's too bad."

He looked like he wanted to make a snarky comment back, but my phone rang, the sound piercing the quiet of the still forest. Not keen to make the same mistake twice, I checked the caller ID, once again disappointed as I found my boyfriend was not the one on the other end.

I didn't answer Kol's call, instead pocketing my phone and turning back to Derek. "Ordinarily I'd love to stay and chat," I told him falsely, sending him a sneer that he too happily returned. "But I have matters to attend to."

He didn't bother responding, merely sending me a final sneer and watching me as I left, blending into the shadows with practised, or perhaps instinctual, ease.

Kol was lounging in the kitchen, feet kicked up on the bench, wine glass full of heated O-positive in his hand, swirling the ruby liquid like a pretentious asshole. "What?" I asked in a clipped tone as soon as I was fully in the room, the light above us the only light in the house.

"That's a strange way to say hello," he chirped, leaning his head backwards over the back of the chair, smirking broadly at me like he knew something I didn't. I'd be worried that he did know something I didn't, if it wasn't for the fact that he always looked that way. My lip curled as I strode passed them, my hip purposefully bumping into his skull with a loud crack, making him flinch but otherwise not react. I opened the fridge, picking out my own bag and biting off the stopper, wrapping my lips around the 'straw' and drinking deeply. "And I'm well, since you didn't ask."

"You rang?" I prompted him coldly, and he shot me an unimpressed expression that rolled off my back with ease.

"Yes, we need more whiskey," he told me, taking a long, irritating pause to sip at his drink. "The good stuff, none of that modern-day watered down shit. And a few bottles of wine would do nicely also. Anything from 1820 or before."

"You're giving me the grocery list, why?" I asked dangerously, my tone like ice.

"You're the woman of the house, yes?" he replied in pure condescension.

My eyebrows raised as I stared at him incredulously, marvelling at his sheer nerve. "First of all," I began darkly, stepped forwards to violently knock his feet off the bench, glaring down at him angrily. "Never call me woman again. Secondly, you can buy your own fucking alcohol. And Thirdly," I stopped, not having a third point. "You're a fucking dip-shit," I finally settled with a furious glare.

Kol snorted in vague amusement, lips twisting in what I supposed could be called a smirk. "You're grasping at straws, woman."

Deciding the broken bones and internal bleeding a fight with him would entail weren't worth the slight satisfaction of pointlessly striking the handsome vampire in the nose, I took the higher road, merely knocking his glass from his hand, watching apathetically as it smashed to the tiled floor, blood splashing across the white surface.

"What were you doing in the woods?" I asked curtly, leaning back against the counter and picking up my own snack, sipping on it nonchalantly as he gazed forlornly down at his dropped meal.

"I wasn't aware I was on house arrest," he countered smartly, and I rolled my eyes at his cheek. "If you must know, I took a lovely young lady out for a stroll in the moonlight."

"And will I be finding this lovely young lady's corpse halfheartedly buried in a mulch pile sometime in the morning?"

He had the audacity to look affronted. "I may not have many good qualities, but let it never be said I don't uphold my end of agreements." He crossed his arms over his chest, peering up at me with intelligent eyes. "You will not find any blood-drained bodies during my stay here."

"And how long will that be?" I asked, swallowing a mouthful of blood and loving the way it made my body simply hum with energy.

"A few weeks, give or take."

I watched him carefully. "You're only agreeing to this because you know a spike in disappearances will alert Klaus to your location," I accused, practically grinding my teeth together as I watched his smirk widen.

"Catch on quick, don't you love?" he jested, and with a final snarl of annoyance I flung my almost empty blood bag at him, heading for the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind me in a small act of defiance.


I was just rubbing on body lotion when I heard the familiar rumble of the Jeep's engine heading down my street. I glanced at the clock, frowning as I saw it was well past two in the morning. We had school the next day, and while I could function on little-to-no sleep, my boyfriend wasn't of the same breed, as it were.

"Stiles?" I asked, appearing at the door and pulling it open, raising an eyebrow at him as he all but leaped up my front stairs. "You should be in bed. Human teenagers need at least nine hours of sleep to-"

"Stop talking."

His mouth crashed onto mine, his palms cupping my face. I gasped in surprise at the contact, but didn't for a moment recoil, instead leaning in to the kiss, moaning quietly as his tongue flicked out to brush against the seam of my lips. I was all too happy to let him in, and he barely had to nudge me before I was walking backwards, vaguely hearing the sound of the front door click closed, leaving us scrambling in the dark, not able to get enough of each other.

His hands slid down from my face, running over my neck and just barely skimming my chest, making me lean into him desperately as he continued on to my lower back, running down over my ass and digging in at my thighs, using the leverage to lift me up.

I was shocked by his strength, but it only made me more breathless, as I happily wrapped my legs around his back. His hands trailed back to the front of my thighs, and my robe fell open, leaving me covered by nothing more than my soft cotton lingerie. When Stiles discovered this he moaned loudly, tongue stroking mine with renewed fire, fingers trailing down the smooth expanse of pale skin.

I ran my own hands through his hair, nipping at his lower lip and rocking my hips into his, swallowing his groan when I brushed up against the hard outline in the front of his jeans. "Stiles," I all but whined, rocking into him again, loving the way he practically whimpered into my lips as I tugged at his roots.

The lights flicked on, and the spell was broken.

"Well, well, well," that familiar British accent sang as Stiles pulled away from me to stare at the newcomer in sheer bewilderment, but not moving from the way he was pressed against me but wincing as the light hurt his unadjusted eyes. "What do we have here? Beauty and his beast?"

I growled over Stiles' shoulder, making a rude gesture with my hand as I pressed my forehead to the human's collarbones. "Stiles," I began with a growl, eyes slid shut as though it would reverse time. "This is Kol; Klaus' younger brother."

Stiles' heart, although already hammering, stuttered and he looked at Kol with raised eyebrows. "Um-hi," he muttered, breathing uneven and heavy, lips gloriously swollen. I could tell he was confused, the surprise slowly breaking through the haze of lust.

"I know I've been daggered for over a century, but surely it's not socially acceptable to fuck your sixteen year old boyfriend in the foyer of your house," Kol said bluntly, and Stiles winced. Finally realising I was still wrapped around the kid like a pretzel, I unwound my legs from his waist, dropping gracefully to the floor. Instantly Stiles' hands came to my robe, moving it so it covered my lingerie, tying the sash to secure it.

"Go away," I ordered the Original through clenched teeth.

"What's the magic word?"

I was angry, but I wasn't stupid enough not to go along with his pathetic games. "Please," I spat the word as though it tasted like acid.

He smirked contently, turning around and wandering back into the dark depths of my house, off to do God knows what.

"Hold on tight," I murmured to Stiles.

"What?" he asked, but we were moving before I could answer. In the blink of an eye we were in my room, Stiles stepping away from me on shaky legs, holding a palm to his head. "That was a lot to process in a three minute window," he muttered with a grimace, pressing his free palm to his chest where his heart continued to thump.

"I was going to tell you," I told him as soon as he'd recovered. "He's only here for a short time, laying low, keeping off Klaus' radar. If there's anything I can relate to, it's that. So I couldn't say no. Also of course I was terrified he was decapitate me – literally – if I did. I'm sorry."

He still seemed reeling from it all, and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Did you guys ever...?"

I stared at him blankly for a long time until I finally understood what he wasn't saying. "God no," I hissed, grimacing like the very idea disgusted me, which it sort of did. "No, absolutely not. Our relationship has been, and always will be, strictly platonic." I froze, a terrible idea dripping over me. "You don't actually think I'd ever-"

"No," he shook his head instantly, denying the thought I'd only gotten half out. "Of course not."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you immediately," I said meekly, eyes dropping to my feet ashamedly.

Stiles sighed, and didn't say anything for a long time. Eventually I couldn't handle the silence, and I had to glance up in hopes it would tell me what he was thinking. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he asked, sounding vulnerable in a way I wasn't sure I liked. "You don't have to keep anything from me. No matter what it is."

"I know," I whispered, tangling my hands together to distract myself.

"I-" he looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to realise we weren't exactly alone – there was a vampire somewhere in the house who could hear every single word. "I guess we won't be doing anything...like that...tonight," he finally settled on, a small smile lighting up his gorgeous face.

"Unless you're into exhibitionism," I dead-panned, and he choked, making me grin. "Come on," I murmured softly, feeling my brave self again and moving forwards, slipping my hand into his. "Let's get some sleep. You look like you need it. You can tell me all about the party in the morning."

He nodded, eyes suddenly drooping, exhausted at the mention of sleep. I led him across the room, opting to keep my satin robe on, lest I make Stiles uncomfortable. He crawled across the bed, toeing off his shoes before dropping onto the pillows, sighing contently. I smiled at him, flicking off the light before moving directly to his side, curling around him like a starfish.

Everything was as it should be, and with that in mind I drifted off to sleep with ease.


I was pretty sure Derek wasn't really meant to be on school grounds, but I couldn't do anything without getting glared at by the alpha werewolf, and I wasn't in the mood for petty arguments. "I don't see anything," the (physically) oldest member of the group sighed, looking bored with the whole conversation.

I leaned over to look at the bruising on the other girls' arms. I did think it made some kind of pattern, though I had no idea what it could possibly symbolise. "Look again," Scott sighed, and I got the feeling he was so desperate for it to be real because he wanted a connection with Allison again.

"How's a bruise going to tell me where Boyd and Erica are?"

"It's the same on both sides. Exactly the same."

"It's nothing."

Alison rolled her eyes and Lydia's lips pressed into a thin line. "Pareidolia," she muttered. "Seeing patterns that aren't there. It's a subset of apophenia."

The others blinked, her words sounding like gibberish. "They're trying to help," Scott muttered, turning to look Derek square in the eye. I rubbed a hand over my eyebrow, feeling a headache coming on and already wondering if I should just skip the rest of the school day and spend it eating curly fries with Stiles.

"These two?" Derek asked, arms crossed, clearly irritated. "This one, who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle; thank you. And this one, who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack."

"You know you see a pattern, you just don't want to admit it because of the grudge you're holding against them," I grumbled, staring accusingly at the alpha.

Derek rounded on me furiously. "Don't even get me started on you," he growled and I raised my eyebrows, just daring him to continue. "Teen vampire with a past, falling in love with a human kid and killing a string of other innocent humans? You're a fucking head case."

"Okay, alright. Now come on," Stiles interjected calmly, tucking his hands under his chin. His heart sped up slightly as I looked at him, and I got the feeling this was his way of defending me. "No one died, alright?" Derek shot him a flat look and I threw in a wince. Stiles cringed regretfully. "This time," he corrected awkwardly, folding his hands under his chin. "Look, there may have been a little maiming, a little mangling, but no death. That's what I call an important distinction."

"My mother died," Allison mentioned bitterly and I winced again, clicking my tongue uncomfortably.

"Your family's little honour code killed your mother. Not me."

"That girl's looking for Scott. I'm here to help him, not you."

"You wanna help? Find something real."

It was a fair enough ask, and with only a brief hushed conversation with Scott by the door, he was gone. Stiles sighed tiredly, dropping his head into his palms. "I'm sorry," the werewolf murmured, moving back to Allison's side, trying not to wince when she shifted away. "If it helps, I believe you."

"Even if you do, he's right, it doesn't tell us anything real."

They didn't hang around after that, Lydia didn't seem too psyched to be in a room with me, so she made an excuse to leave immediately, Allison close on her heels. It didn't bother me, I was happy to merely hold Stiles' hand until finally I had to let go when we slid into our seats in Economics.

"Cooper!"

The sound of my fake name being snapped from the front of the room made my head snap up from where I was tracing shapes into the front of my textbook out of pure boredom. "Yes, Coach?" I asked, raising a calm eyebrow and awaiting his answer even as all eyes in the class moved to me.

"Could you at least pretend to pay attention in my class?" he retorted snidely, and my lips twitched up amusedly. I put down my pen, folding my hands together under my chin and giving the teacher my full attention. "Thank you," he sneered, and I merely smiled back pleasantly. "The stock market is based on two principles. What are they?" Coach asked the class, peering out at the sea of students with little expectation for a serious answer. The class was silent, then Scott raised his hand from where he sat in the spot directly in front of me. "Yes McCall, you can go to the bathroom," he dismissed with a shrug.

"No Coach," Scott continued meekly. "I know the answer."

Coach started laughing, a full belly laugh, coming from his gut. I rolled my eyes, slipping down further in my seat and throwing a look across the isle to Stiles, who was covering his lips to conceal a smirk of his own. "Oh, you're serious?" he asked, finally sobering enough to speak.

"Yeah, it's risk and reward," the wolf responded, making the Coach's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"Wow," he yelled, creeping toward the tan boy with a manic grin. "Who are you? And what have you done to McCall? Don't answer that, I like you better." Coach turned back around, heading for the front of the room again. I took the opportunity to quickly scrunch up a piece of paper, forming a ball before throwing it violently at Scott's head.

He spun around, raising a confused eyebrow at me. "Teacher's pet," I whispered once I had his attention, and the kid rolled his eyes exasperatedly before turning back to the front. I thought my comment was hilarious; especially since he was literally a puppy.

"Does anybody have a quarter?" Coach continued, eyes sweeping the class.

Stiles moved, digging in his pocket for the requested change. I wasn't paying much attention, but a moment later the class went deathly silent, and I followed everyone's gaze to the condom packet that sat on the ground in the isle between us.

"Stilinski, I think you, uh, dropped this," he said stiltedly, reaching down to pick up the packet, yellow writing clearly spelling out 'XXL Condom' on the front. I pressed my lips together to keep in a guffaw, my eyes watering with the effort it took to stay serious. I didn't want to embarrass the kid any more than he already was. Those familiar red blotches appeared on his cheeks as he stared at the offending item with pure horror. "And congratulations," the man-child leered, Stiles' heart speeding up in his chest as he sunk in his seat, no doubt wishing to spontaneously combust.

Scott stared at his best friend expectantly, unable to help himself from peeking over his shoulder at me. I smirked back when I caught sight of his eager expression, merely raising my eyebrows at him suggestively until he turned back around.

"Get the quarter in the mug: win the reward," Coach continued, moving to the front of the room again. He placed the mug on the floor, bending down and tossing the quarter into it with what could only be practised ease. The class clapped, and with an eye roll I leaned back in my chair, thoughts on a recovering Stiles. He powered on, lecturing the class on risk and reward, starting with Danny before moving to Scott.

Stiles' eyes slid over to me, and he flushed when he realised I was already looking at him. My lips pulled up into a smirk, and he grumbled unintelligently under his breath as he turned back to face the front, suddenly taking up Coach's offer of the game, as more of a distraction than anything else.

Throwing himself into the challenge, he readied himself to throw the quarter, not noticing when the door opened and the familiar face of his father entered the room.

I could tell something was wrong instantly, the look on his lined face was solemn. "Stiles," the man said grimly.

"Yeah Coach, I got it," he replied confidently.

"Stiles," he repeated, finally getting his son's attention. The whole thing put me on edge, and I leaned up out of my chair. Stiles, noticing my movement, turned to face me, holding out a hand gently. I knew what the gesture meant; he wanted me to stay put. Deciding to listen to the kid, I sat back down in the chair, keeping my ear on the conversation happening out in the hall.

One thing, I found as I listened, was certain.

This couldn't lead to anything good.


Stiles slid into the seat opposite me, hands immediately moving to the table, tapping an uneven beat onto the surface. "Yes?" I asked, looking up from my book to raise an expectant eyebrow.

"I need to ask you something," he told me bluntly, heart racing in his chest as he watched me warily.

Instantly on guard, I peered up at him cautiously. "Is this about Heather?" I asked gently, reaching across the table to wrap my hand around his. That seemed like the right thing to do. Humans found contact comforting, didn't they?

His eyes glazed over for a long minute, before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "Sort of," he admitted with a sigh, moving his hand so our fingers intertwined and held them in front of us, staring down at them like he was expecting them to answer. "You know how she went missing?"

"I heard you talking to your dad," I revealed, though he probably already knew that, he merely nodded and frowned.

"I was thinking maybe, you could talk to – I mean, you don't have to, but you could-"

"You want me to talk to Kol," I cut him off, not pulling away but frowning myself. It hadn't really occurred to me before then. A young girl goes missing from a party? That had 'troublemaker Original' written all over it.

"It's no secret that I don't trust the guy, however it's not my only theory," he told me softly, scooting his metal chair closer to the table, ducking his head to meet mine over the surface. "I think, providing it isn't Kol, maybe the alpha pack took her."

It was also a plausible theory, one that would definitely make life just that little bit easier for me. Still, I had to work all possible angles. "Why would they do that?" I asked gently, making sure I wasn't overheard.

"To turn her, obviously," he shrugged, though there was a sliver of pain in his eyes as he spoke so casually of his missing friend. "Derek said it works best with teenagers."

"Okay," I nodded, my mind racing as I made plans. "Well, I'll go home and talk to Kol, see what he says – or how full of shit he is – and maybe Scott could join Derek's pack to look for-"

"We have a plan," he interjected, and though I shouldn't have been surprised, I raised a shocked eyebrow. "Scott and I are taking Isaac to Deaton, we think he's our best bet at getting him to remember what happened with the pack."

"When's this all happening?"

"Straight after school," he answered quickly. "You could go talk to Kol, then circle back and meet us at the Animal Clinic?"

I hesitated, not really in the mood for either of those things. Still, I knew it was a good plan, and I knew I couldn't tell him no. Not when his old friend's life could be on the line. "If Kol has her," I began seriously, leaning forwards even further as I stared into his caramel eyes, desperate for him to see my sincerity. "I'll get her back."

"And if she's already dead?" he asked, a wince crossing his face as he swallowed thickly.

"Then I'll make him pay," I vowed, leaning forwards and pecking him once on the lips – I never was all about public displays of affection – and throwing him what I hoped was a comforting smile before shoving my book into my bag and pushing my chair back, heading straight for the door.

This was important, but also, if I was honest, any excuse to skip school was a good one.

I got home to find that Kol had a stripper in the living room. Not exactly a prude, this didn't faze me. When I caught sight of the angry red bite marks covering her neck and waist, well, I didn't take it too well.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I asked, not able to help my native accent slipping into my voice.

Kol wasn't bothered by my outburst, and the pretty little half-naked redhead was so heavily compelled that she didn't even flinch. "You said I could play as I pleased," he told me as though the whole subject simply bored him. "This is me playing," he said, gesturing to the girl with a blood covered hand and a wicked grin. "And I am very pleased."

Some kind of terrible music was playing from my modest sound system, and I angrily jabbed the correct button, turning the machine off and making the room deathly silent. "We need to talk," I told him seriously, though he barely batted an eyelid.

"Yes we do," he purred, waving his hand casually, the girl obediently giving him a bloody pat on his bare stomach before turning and disappearing down the hall. "Now Juliet, here we are, world at our fingertips, and you've decided to turn to celibacy and lawfulness. I must say, I'm severely disappointed in you-"

"That's not what I want to talk about," I hissed fiercely, only serving to widen his smirk. I took a deep, calming breath, glaring at him only slightly before I continued. "A girl went missing," I spoke flatly, watching him closely for any hint of remorse, although I knew it was hopeless.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling," he leered, and I suppressed a huff of irritation.

"A few inches shorter than me, blonde hair, pretty face and – oh yeah, she was with my boyfriend when it happened."

He looked to the ceiling, whether he was remembering to rolling his eyes, I wasn't sure. "I feel the strangest sense of deja-vu," he hummed bitterly. "Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"We won't have to keep repeating it if you'd just-"

In an instant I was pinned against the wall, Kol's fingers wrapped around my throat. Reacting on instinct, I placed my palms to his chest and shoved, but it was like trying to tear down the Eiffel Tower for all the good it did. I tried to breathe in, but he only pressed harder, lifting me up with ease so my feet dangled in the air, kicking back uselessly against the wall.

"If I just what?!" he roared, eyes flooded with blood, fangs protruding from his lips.

I'd made a mistake.

I wouldn't exactly call myself a pacifist by any means, but I could tell you what, I sure as hell wasn't going to throw punches at an Original vampire; the thing monsters got nightmares about. I wanted to apologise, simply to get him the hell off me. We'd known each other a long time, I'd even call us friends. But looking into his eyes, I didn't doubt for a second that he'd take off my head without remorse.

"I don't like being told what to do," he growled, squeezing even tighter, making my head feel like it was going to explode.

The line was familiar, it was one I'd used countless times before. I'd forgotten where I'd learned it from, but in that moment I remembered clearly.

Finally, just when black spots began to dance in my usually perfect vision, he let go. I caught myself before I could fall, using the wall as support when my knees shook while I recovered. I sucked in air, because although it was entirely necessary for me to live, it was sure as hell uncomfortable without it.

I glanced up at Kol, who was staring down at me apathetically, a small smirk on his lips like nothing had even happened. I clenched my teeth, seething, though I knew it was pointless. I wasn't going to get sympathy, let alone an apology.

"I trust our previous agreement stands?" he said, in a tone that made it perfectly clear he wasn't asking.

I knew it was stupid to say anything but yes, but I had to do something. I had to be sure, for Stiles' sake. "Did you take the girl?"

His eyes hardened and, not able to help myself, I flinched. Something in his gaze looked both pleased and displeased, and he took a step back, giving me some space. "I didn't take the girl," he assured me, turning around and not casting another look over his shoulder as he disappeared after his new stripper friend.


"What's happening?" I asked tonelessly, Stiles jumping violently as I startled him while the present wolves merely threw me glances of acknowledgment. "An ice bath?" I continued, my eyes shooting to the good doctor, who stood in the doorway with Isaac, speaking with him in low tones. Was he doing what I thought he was doing?

"It's like being hypnotised?" Isaac spoke, nodding at me halfheartedly, too focused on the conversation to bother with a proper greeting.

"Exactly," the dark skinned man answered, stepping out into the sterile light of the room. "You'll be half transformed," the man told him quietly. "It'll let us access your unconscious mind."

Isaac crouched beside the bath full to the brim with ice, peering at it hesitantly. "How slow does his heart rate need to be?" Scott asked with a concerned frown.

"Very slow."

"How slow is very slow?" Derek asked with the usual unhappy grimace.

"Nearly dead," he admitted, making everyone stare at him in something akin to horror.

"We could be coffin buddies," I chimed from my place, enjoying the way everyone, especially Stiles, frowned at the thought. He automatically stepped closer to me, leaning up against the bench I was sat on, my jean-clad leg brushing his arm. He made an enthused humming noise as he spotted the box of elbow-length gloves sitting beside me, eagerly pulling one out and rolling it down his arm.

"It's safe though, right?" Isaac questioned, looking up at the doctor wearily.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

"No," he muttered, turning back to his awaiting bath. "Not really."

The material of the glove smacked loudly, making everyone's heads turn to face the pair of us. "What?" Stiles ask defensively, one gloved arm held in the air. All it took was raised eyebrows from an irritated Derek, and he was grumbling under his breath exasperatedly, pulling off the glove and tossing it carelessly in the corner.

"Look, if it feels too risky you don't have to do this," Derek said in a surprising show of care.

Isaac hesitated before reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. My eyes raked the boy's physique, appreciating the hard lines of his body.

A hand slapped against my shoulder, and my head snapped to Stiles, who was glaring at me in annoyance. "What?" I asked, though I knew the answer. "I may be dead," I muttered to him, eyes flicking to the shirtless wolf. "But I'm not blind."

"I trust you know the process," the vet said to me, pulling my attention from Stiles.

Raising an eyebrow, I nodded. "Yeah, done this a few times over the years," I admitted, "but usually the compulsion thing worked enough on it's own."

"Good," he told me, face turning serious. "You'll be the one communicating with him."

"What?" Stiles spoke up, frowning at the doctor.

"Her powers of persuasion can be used purely vocally."

"But it doesn't work on werewolves," Scott spoke, glancing at Isaac who looked wary to say the least. "Right?"

"True, but even without her abilities, she's hypnotic. I'm sure Stiles can attest to that," he told them with something I would almost describe as a smirk, and the freckle-faced kid flushed, pulling uncomfortably at his collar. Rolling my eyes, I watched intently as Isaac readied himself, taking a deep breath before lowering himself into the ice bath.

Scott and Derek appeared on either side of him, gripping his broad shoulders with strong hands.

Without further fanfare, the wolf was shoved under the water. Isaac was barely able to handle more than a minute under the ice before he burst back out, both Derek and Scott straining to hold him still. "Hold him." I peeled off my leather jacket, tossing it onto a bench and reaching into the water to help them. "Hold him," Deaton repeated, and I glared at him, palms pressed to the werewolf's icy chest. Easy for him to say, considering he wasn't doing any of the work.

"We're trying," Derek snapped back, meaning I didn't have to.

Finally, after a long few minutes, Isaac went still. I pulled my arms from the water, crouching down beside the tub, watching the wolf closely. The doctor tapped my shoulder, and I leant forward, leaning over slightly so he didn't have to strain to hear me.

"Isaac," I began, staring at the unconscious boy, my voice saccharine with the compulsion. "Isaac, can you hear me?"

For a long minute he said nothing, and we frowned as one. Then, "Yes. I can hear you."

"Isaac, it's Juliet," I said, ignoring the way Stiles leant into me thoughtlessly, driven by pure instinct. He was wearing vervain, so I wouldn't be able to fully compel him, but my intoxicating voice alone was enough to draw him in, like a poisonous flower, beautiful in appearance, but ultimately deadly. "I going to ask you some questions, Isaac," I all but sang, eyes locked onto his unresponsive face. "Can you answer them for me?"

"Yes."

"The night you found Erica and Boyd," I began gently, absently registering that my pupils were dilating out of instinct. "I want you to think back to that night, Isaac. Remember everything vividly. See everything in your mind, as though you were there once more."

"I don't want to do that," he said, trembling in the water, beginning to struggle against the hands holding him. "I don't want to do that."

"Isaac," I breathed calmly, ignoring the way the lights flickered violently. "Isaac, it's okay. Relax little wolf, they're only memories." Finally, he stopped thrashing, becoming still amongst the ice. "Come on Isaac. Remember that night, remember finding Erica and Boyd. Can you tell me what you see?" He was quiet, eyes rolling underneath his lids. "Is there a house? A landmark? Maybe a building?"

"It's not a house," he said blankly. "It's stone. M-marble."

"Good," I hummed, listening closely to his heart as it beat only once every few seconds. "What else, Isaac?"

"It's dusty; empty."

"Abandoned?" I guessed softly, but he began thrashing again, clutching to Scott and Derek like they were going to save him. "Relax little wolf," I sang, voice thick with compulsion and suggestion. He shook even harder but stopped clawing at the alpha's hands. "Relax..." Eventually he fell still once more, breathing deeply through his nose. "Isaac, tell us what you see."

"I hear him. He's talking about the full moon, about being out of control when the moon rises."

"And who's he talking to?" I probed gently. "Erica?"

"I think so, I can't see her...I can't see either of them."

"What else, Isaac?"

"They're worried; worried what they'll do during the moon. They're worried that they're going to hurt each other."

"If they're locked in together on the full moon they're going to tear each other apart," Derek murmured to us under his breath, a rare look of concern on his features.

"Isaac, it's very important that we find them now," I said as thickly as I could, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. "Can you see them?"

"No."

"Do you know what type of room it is? Are there any numbers? Any markers?"

He shot into an upright position with a loud gasp, staring unseeingly at the opposite wall. "They're here!" he shuddered in pure terror. "They're here. They see me, they've found me!"

"Sh..." I hushed him gently, though apparently a certain alpha didn't think my approach was helping (which was honestly rude, because out of the two of us, who really had experience with hypnotism?)

"This isn't working," Derek snapped, shoving hard against the beta and growling down at him. "Tell me where you are!" he demanded roughly as Isaac gasped for breath.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed at him, reaching out and placing a hand firmly against his smooth, wet chest, hoping to anchor him in some way. "Isaac," I tried again, only for Derek to cut me off.

"Where are you?"

"He's going to go into shock," Deaton implored, but Derek was too focused on getting the answers he needed.

"Isaac, where are you? What did you see?!"

"It's a vault!" he shouted desperately, thrashing in our hold. "It's a bank vault!"

"What happened?!" Derek shouted ruthlessly.

"They're dragging me...forcing me into a room," he whimpered sadly, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "And there's a body...on my God, it's Erica!" He was hysterical, arm breaking free and nearly clocking Scott in the mouth.

"Take him out now Juliet," Deaton murmured hurriedly, and I focused all of my energy on Isaac.

"Isaac, I'm going to count to three and you're going to wake up, you'll be with us again," I paused, watching as he nodded jerkily. "One...two...three!"

He snapped up, eyes shooting open as he stared across the room, breathing heavily. "I saw the name," he told us once he'd caught his breath, grasping the sides of the tub and pushing himself up. "It's Beacon Hills First National Bank," he said as they pulled him out, wrapping a blanket around his shivering form. "It's an abandoned bank and they're keeping them locked inside the vault." We were all silent, not knowing what else there was to say. It was clear he didn't remember his last words. "What?" he asked cluelessly.

"You don't remember what you said right before you came out of it, do you?" Stiles asked knowingly, tone painfully defeated. "You said that when they captured you they dragged you into a room and that there was a body in it."

Isaac paused. "What body?"

"You said it was Erica."

A/N: Do you guys think I should change what category this is in? Should I put it in Teen Wolf/Vampire Diaries crossover? Please let me know, it's really bothering me. Hope you enjoyed this :)