A/N: Thanks to everyone who favourites and follows, ESPICALLY those who review. Your words are what drives me and fuels me. I love you all!

Warning! There is explicit content in this chapter, if that's not your thing you can just stop reading when things get too much. I've never really written sex scenes before, and Juliet has quite a different view of the whole thing than I do, so sorry if it comes across as crass (she's doesn't have a very delicate vocabulary). Hope you enjoy :)


Oh boy, have you seen my hands?

I can't hold on, I don't understand why

Dear boy, have you seen my soul?

It's under the ground, I'm out of control

Only you can bring me back to life

Only you can put me into right

Tell me when I can breathe again

Only You – Pretty Reckless


"You need to have sex with me."

I looked up from the textbook in my hands, eyeing Stiles where he sat in the driver's seat of the jeep, hands tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. "Never been hit on like that before," I commented blandly, turning back to the words on the page and beginning to read about contemporary literature versus classic Bronte.

"I'm serious," he whined, hands clenching around the wheel.

"The first time we have sex is not going to be because you're avoiding being used as a sacrificial virgin," I dead-panned, flipping the page, eyes scanning the paper idly.

"I-I mean that's not..." he tried to defend himself, but we both knew he was full of shit. "I just mean-"

"I know what you mean," I rolled my eyes, giving up on reading and slamming the book shut, dropping it in my lap and turning to give my boyfriend my full attention. "Your first time isn't going to be out of desperation to stay alive."

He groaned, shooting me a sour look. "It doesn't need to be special," he muttered. "I'm not a girl."

I clenched my teeth, irritation rising within me. "We've been over this, the sanctity of female virginity is a social construct-"

"This is not the time for one of your feminist rants!" he interrupted me sternly, and I fell silent. Clearly he was more worried than I thought he would be. I felt bad, feeling my walls crumbling. If he was really that terrified, would it be so bad to just give in? "My status as a virgin is literally a threat to my life!"

"I'll protect you," I shrugged, though I knew it was weak at best.

He groaned again, thumping his forehead against the wheel once he'd pulled into one of the few empty spaces in the parking lot. "I'm going to die, all because my vampire girlfriend won't jump my bones," he mumbled forlornly, hitting his head against the wheel to punctuate the sentence.

"You're right," I rolled my eyes again. "Your life is so hard."

"Your sarcasm is neither wanted nor appreciated," he grumbled back. I chuckled softly, throwing my textbook into my shoulder bag and reaching across to run a hand through Stiles' hair.

"You're going to be okay," I assured him, my nails scraping his scalp gently. "I'll see you at track."

With that I opened the door and slid out onto the road, my heeled boots clicking against the asphalt. I ran a hand through my own hair, pushing it from my face as I made my way through the students arriving at school, heading for the main entrance.

I knew who I had to speak to, I just hoped they wanted to speak back.

"Hello."

Allison jumped where she sat in her favourite seat at the front of the geography class, hands slapping against the wood of her desk. "Jesus!" she cursed, turning in her chair to glare at me.

"Sorry," I said unapologetically, scooting my chair closer so she could hear me when I spoke quietly. "We need to talk."

A crease appeared between her perfect brows. "About what?" she asked, voice heavy with caution.

"Stiles wants me to have sex with him."

Those eyebrows of hers hit her hairline and her lips parted, probably taken aback by my straightforwardness. She slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle a guffaw, making me scowl at her unhappily.

"This is serious," I hissed in irritation, sending her my most intimidating death glare. She sobered after a moment, coughing to get rid of the last giggles in her throat.

"Okay, your boyfriend wants to have sex with you?" she worded it like a question, eyeing my skeptically. "You don't exactly strike me as a prude, so what's the problem?"

I frowned, wondering how best to word my concerns. "I'm worried he wants it...for the wrong reasons," I muttered, idly picking at my nails just so I had somewhere to look.

"The wrong reasons being...?" she trailed off.

"He just wants to lose his virginity," I mumbled with a wince at the thought. "And that he doesn't really care who it's with."

"You're an idiot."

My head snapped up and I looked at Allison in surprise, shocked she'd been so harsh. "Excuse me?" I asked, frowning as I stared at her, wondering what the hell was going on in that pretty head of hers.

"I called you an idiot."

I waited for an explanation, but after a long minute of silence, I started to think that maybe I wasn't getting one.

Finally, she smiled, the expression open and relaxed. "Look, Stiles is completely, totally and unconditionally in love with you," she told me, heartbeat intimidatingly steady. I sucked in a breath. Stiles and I hadn't talked about what he'd said on the phone. In fact, we hadn't even mentioned it. I wasn't even sure if he knew what he'd said, or even remembered it.

A part of me was hoping he'd forgotten, and another part was desperate for him to bring it up so I could spill everything and fall into him like I so fiercely wanted to.

"And don't even try to convince me you don't feel the same," Allison continued knowingly.

I lifted one shoulder, letting it drop in a shrug, "I deny nothing."

"So, I ask again, the problem is...?"

I had to admit, now that I thought about it logically, there wasn't really a problem. Why was I so desperate to get out of having sex with Stiles? If anything, I was desperate for the opposite. I hadn't been so pathetically attracted to someone since Damon in the late 1800's. And fuck did I miss sex. For so many years, lust fuelled everything I did. Lust for sex, lust for power, bloodlust. God knew I never went a day without satisfying at least one of those needs.

And what had I become?

Kol was right, I was boring.

Narrowing my eyes at Allison, I said, "I don't appreciate the attitude, but you helped."

She smiled again. "Is that your way of saying thank you?" she teased.

I grunted and turned back to face the front of the room just as the elderly teacher hobbled into the space, beginning to ramble about tectonic plates.

I smiled, no longer feeling like there was something holding me back. It was Stiles, and we were both getting to the stage in our relationship where we needed more from each other physically. If I – a 200 year old female vampire – was struggling, then Stiles – a sixteen year old guy – was probably about ready to explode from the tension.

The only thing stopping me was my bloodlust. Since I'd never had sex with a human that I hadn't fed from, I had no idea how I was going to go having sex without doing it. I had to have confidence in myself. If there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I would never under any circumstances, do something that would hurt Stiles.

So, with my mind made up, I settled into the seat with a pleased grin, excited for things to come.


I greeted Stiles with a kiss when I saw him.

It was unusual for me to do so in public, and he gasped as our lips made contact. Allison had somehow convinced Lydia to lend me her bike shorts, so I wore those and a tank top with a bra that made my chest ridiculously attractive.

I wanted to tease Stiles.

We were coming into a new phase in our relationship, one where we were going to explore one another like we had yet to, like Stiles had yet to ever. I wanted to give him everything, show him everything. And I wanted to make him sweat.

I deepened the kiss, tugging at his hair and stroking his tongue with my own. People around us started to wolf whistle, but I ignored them, hooking my leg around my boyfriend's hip for a brief second before finally pulling away, grinning wickedly at the groan he gave when we parted.

"Stilinski! Cooper!" Coach yelled in that irritated voice we were so accustomed to. "Save it for the bedroom." I wasn't sure he was legally allowed to make that comment, but I couldn't have cared less. "Everyone else, be ready to start at my whistle!"

Everyone did some last minute stretches, while I kept my eyes on Stiles, smirk firmly in place. "You okay?" I asked him smugly.

"What was-" he stuttered, lips slightly swollen and glistening from the kiss. "Um-I don't...why...?"

I shrugged, grinning up at him cheekily. "No reason," I told him, tongue caught between my teeth. "I just love you."

The whistle blew and everyone started running but Stiles, who stood stock still, frozen in shock. I threw him a wink, pecking him once more on the cheek before darting off, melting into the crowd and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I kept towards the front of the group, but let Isaac and the twin-alpha-wolves get far ahead. Whatever kind of battle they had going on, I sure as hell didn't want to be a part of it.

I smelt the blood before I saw anything, and I was glad I'd fed that morning so I could handle it. I was used to seeing dead bodies, so it didn't faze me. The girl behind me, however, wasn't quite so nonchalant. She let out a piercing scream, taking a quick step back and tripping over a fallen branch. Murmurs followed as the crowd slowed, all gathering around the tree the corpse was tied to.

A hand slipped into mine, and I looked over at Stiles, who was staring at the body with regret. "Do you need to leave?" he asked me from the corner of his mouth, and I found his concern eternally sweet.

"I can handle it," I whispered back, squeezing his hand tightly.

There were mutters through the group of kids, everyone standing around staring at the gruesome sight. Somebody must have called ahead, because only five minutes later the Sheriff was pushing his way through the surrounding kids. "Get out of the way! Get back!" he snapped sternly. "Get this cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence. Get these kids out of here!"

"Dad, look," Stiles spoke up, hand slipping from mine as he moved over to his father, gesturing at the body. "It's the same as the others, you see?"

"I see it," he nodded. "Do me a favour, go back to school. Coach, give us a hand here?" he asked when nobody moved.

"You heard the man!" the teacher shouted. "Nothing to see here! Probably just some homeless kid!"

"Coach," Scott said sadly. "He was a senior."

Coach sighed heavily, hand going to his mouth. "He wasn't on the team, was he?" he asked indelicately, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Another scream rocked the area, a blonde girl trying to fight her way through the deputies to get to the boy who was no doubt her significant other. "See the way the twins looked at each other?"

"Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?" Stiles countered.

"Nah," Isaac shook his head. "They knew."

"The kid was strangled with a lead, alright? Am I the only one recognising the lack of werewolf-itude in these murders?"

"You think it's a coincidence that they turn up and people start dying?!"

"Well, no, but I still don't think it's them."

"I'm with Stiles," I said bluntly.

Isaac snorted derisively, "Big surprise."

I shot him a steely glare. "I don't think it's a coincidence they show up in town and people start getting murdered. But, come on, what kind of self-respecting werewolf strangles their victims? No, if it was as cut and dry as the alpha pack doing it, it wouldn't be a three-fold death, and it sure as hell wouldn't just be virgins."

"Scott?" Isaac turned to the other beta expectantly, eyebrows raised as he awaited an answer. Stiles crossed his arms, curious who his best friend was going to side with.

"I don't know yet," the wolf answered diplomatically.

"You don't know yet?" Stiles echoed.

"Well, he's got a point," he responded, nodding his head at Isaac. Stiles stared at puppy-dog eyes incredulously. "Seriously dude, human sacrifices?"

"Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, if I were to stab you right now it would just magically heal – and let's not forget that my girlfriend can hypnotise people with eye contact, doesn't have a heartbeat and drinks blood to stay alive, but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices?"

Scott sighed tiredly. "That's a good point too."

"I don't care," Isaac grunted. "They killed that kid, they killed the girl that saved me, and I'm going to kill them too."

"Ruthless," I smirked at him degradingly. "I like it."

"I thought you said you were on Stiles' side?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to kick some werewolf ass."


"Jules?"

"Hm?" I hummed, looking up from my book to Stiles, who sounded far meeker than usual. I blew a strand of raven hair from my eyes, focusing on my boyfriend's face, worry shooting through me as I saw the angry red mark on his cheek. "What they hell happened?" I asked, dropping what I was doing and shooting to my feet. I pressed my palm to his uninjured cheek, turning his head so I could get a better look at the mark.

"I asked Kyle's girlfriend if he was a virgin and she slapped me," he admitted with a wince.

"Well was he?" I asked, brushing my cool fingertips over the bruise.

"Nope," he shook his head.

"Well there goes your virgin sacrifice theory."

"Not necessarily," he muttered, stepping closer to make sure we weren't overheard. "What if it's sacrifices in threes? Three virgins, then maybe, I don't know, three people who own little dogs?" I narrowed my eyes at the kid, wondering if he was for real. "Oh God," he breathed, a far away look in his eye. "Lydia has a little dog!"

My eyes rolled before I could stop them, but luckily he didn't catch the movement. "Go on," I waved him off, knowing there was probably no stopping him. "Go find her."

"You're literally the best," he said in a rush, leaning down to peck my cheek affectionately before disappearing into the throng of students.

I smiled after him, shaking my head fondly. That's when a familiar boy rushed passed me, heart hammering in his chest. "Scott?" I asked in confusion, instantly changing directions and following after the wolf. As I jogged, the closer I got to the source, the more I could hear a werewolf growling and Allison pleading Isaac's name.

Worry gripped my chest, and I sped up, following close on Scott's heels. We traced the sounds to a janitors closet in the East wing of the school, and it was obviously correct, a vending machine pushed in front of the door, locking the pair inside.

"Help me!" Scott groaned, already working on pushing it out of the way. I pressed my palms to the machine and shoved, my strength combined with his had us forcing the object away from the door. Scott wasted no time in ripping it open, darting inside and tossing Isaac out by his collar.

The beta slid across the floor, ending up at my feet. His arm snapped up and caught me around the ankle, claws digging into my flesh. With a pained grunt I kicked him in the face, but the glowing eyed wolf only snarled in response.

Scott reappeared, wrapping his fingers tightly around the younger wolf's throat. "Isaac!" he all but roared, the sound making Isaac instantly stand down, and even making a shiver run down my spine. If I wasn't mistaken, he almost sounded...like an alpha.

Scott's first priority was Allison, so once he was sure Isaac was himself once again, he leapt to her side. Breathing in, I flinched at a smell of fresh human blood, eyes snapping to Allison who was holding her bleeding arm in pain. "I'm okay. I'm fine," she assured us, meeting my eyes briefly and nodding to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," Isaac muttered distraughtly from his place on the ground by my side.

"It's not his fault," she said to Scott, who looked absolutely ropeable.

"I know," he told her calmly. "I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt."

"So are we going to do something?" Isaac asked in a steely voice.

"We sure as hell better be," I growled with barely restrained anger, hands clenched into fists at my side. "Because I can't handle this 'high road' shit any longer."

"Yeah, we are going to do something," Scott nodded with a deep frown on his face. "We're gonna get them angry. Really angry."

The plan was simple, and it soon found me out in the daylight, standing guard over Allison while she hot wired one of the twin's bikes. It was an interesting idea, and I wasn't entirely sure how it would pay off. The others said something about boys loving their vehicles like children, but it sounded weird, so I stopped listening after that.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" a young teacher asked, approaching us with an infuriated look on her already lined face.

I caught the authority figure by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks the moment our eyes met. "You're going to go inside and forget you saw anything," I instructed her, pupils dilating as I worked my magic.

"I'll forget I saw anything," she echoed lifelessly. I blinked and she spun around, marching back the way she'd come.

"Handy," Isaac spoke up once she was out of sight, arms crossed over his sweater. The bell rang from inside the building and Isaac jumped nervously. "How long is this going to take?" he asked Allison impatiently.

She smirked coyly, and not a second later the bike started up, motor rumbling in the warm air. The hunter began telling the werewolf exactly how to ride the thing as he straddled it. I had to admit, the motorbike definitely did something for him. Something good.

I wondered what Stiles looked like on a motorbike.

Before I could explore that fantasy any further, Isaac was heading straight for the front doors, helmet securely over his face. "Wanna take a shortcut to the action?" I asked Allison, and she turned to me with a confused frown.

"What does that-"

I didn't bother waiting for her consent. Something told me she ultimately wouldn't mind. I just hoped she didn't get motion sickness. I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her with ease and legging it into the school. I passed Isaac on the bike with ease, only coming to a stop once I found a large enough crowd, allowing us to go unnoticed.

Allison took a deep breath when we stopped, stepping away from me on shaky legs. "Do that often?" she asked lightly.

"I live for it," I told her jokingly (and slightly honestly) and she giggled breathlessly.

"You have got to be kidding me!" that English teacher barked in sheer disbelief, heels clicking on the floor as she strode towards the twin now holding the bike. Allison and I stepped to the front of the crowd, meeting with Scott and Isaac who were watching the scene with smug smirks. "You realise this is going to result in a suspension?"

When the twin turned to glare at us, Allison muffled a giggle in her hand, Isaac smirked widely, Scott wagged his eyebrows and I poked my tongue out childishly. He growled so quietly only us supernaturals could hear, and the sound made my smirk widen.

It felt good to be king.


I munched on one of Stiles' twizzlers, having swiped them from his locker. They weren't totally terrible, and I figured the kid wouldn't mind me eating them; he always seemed pleased to find me eating at all.

"What are you doing on my Jeep?"

I looked up from the tattoo magazine I was scanning, idly searching for something that caught my eye. I glanced down to where I was perched on the hood of his precious car before looking back up and shrugging at the owner helplessly. "The ground wasn't as comfortable," I responded, letting the magazine slide shut before slipping off the vehicle, shoving the reading material into my shoulder bag and stepping closer to Stiles, pecking him once on the lips before holding up the jar of twizzlers. "Want one?"

"Are you offering me my own candy?" he asked incredulously, though I could see the amusement shining through.

I grinned at him mischievously, spinning around on my feet and wandering over to the passenger side door. Stiles huffed jokingly, walking around to the driver's side and unlocking it, both of us sliding into the car. "So, how are we spending our free period? My place or yours?" I asked with a smirk as he turned on the radio, fiddling with the buttons for a minute before settling on a soft rock station.

"Neither." I raised an eyebrow expectantly. "We need to make a stop first."

Stiles talked on the drive to the animal clinic. He talked about how he wished his father knew everything, but that he knew he didn't – and couldn't – so he was going to someone he knew did know everything.

We joined hands as we made our way into the building, the bell tinkling as we pushed open the door.

"You two are out of school early," the good doctor commented, appearing behind the counter, watching us with interest.

"Free period, actually," Stiles replied, squeezing my hand once more before letting go and shoving his own hands into his pockets. "I was heading home to see my dad, and – well, I guess you heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out."

"I gathered as much from the 'Sheriff' title," he responded in a way I would almost describe as sassy.

"Yeah...but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information – and we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right? So, then I started thinking and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information; someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here," Stiles paused, taking a breath as he met the older man's eyes. "You."

After that it seemed like it would be impossible to shut the kid up. He rambled, talking more at the vet than to him. He tripped over words about other three-fold deaths throughout history, pulling out facts that not even I was aware of.

"...they also found pollen-grains in his stomach – guess what favourite druid plant that was," he continued, and the doctor pulled a familiar looking plant out of a nearby jar.

"Mistletoe," he answered holding out the offending sprout.

"I'm just telling you everything you already know, aren't I?" Stiles sighed tiredly before a rare expression of anger overcame his handsome face. "Then why aren't you telling us?!"

"Maybe because when you've spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away, denying it, lying about it, becomes a pretty powerful habit," he told us sadly.

Stiles looked momentarily regretful. "You have the heart and knowledge of a warlock," I spoke up, eyeing him thoughtfully.

His lips twitched, but his expression remained mostly blank. "It's not the first time I've been told so."

"Alright, so this guy, is he a druid?" Stiles spoke up, leaning further across the table as he awaited an answer.

"No," he shook his head. "It's someone copying the centuries-old practise of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word 'druid' means in Gaelic?"

I frowned, memories from years upon years ago beginning to resurface. "Wise oak," I said gently, folding my hands together on the cool metal of the table and watching the doctor closely. "I know many druids, they're a peaceful people. I can't image any scenario in which one would resort to murder."

Deaton nodded his head. "The Celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers, and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is." A phone buzzed, and Stiles pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the screen for a moment before answering. "Hey, I can't talk right now," he said to whoever was on the other end, sounding as impatient as he felt.

"The music teacher – he's gone." It was Lydia's voice on the other end, making me pause at how hysterical she sounded.

"Wait-what?" Stiles asked confusedly.

"He never showed up for class."

"Okay, are you sure he's missing?"

"Not just missing," she responded shakily. "Taken."

"We'll be there in ten minutes," I called loud enough for her to hear, and with a mutter of reassurance, Stiles hung up, turning to the doctor with concerned eyes. "Can you follow us in your car?" I asked him before my boyfriend could say anything. "We think we've found the next victim."

He nodded, "I'll lock up the clinic and be right behind you."

Stiles and I filed from the room, stepping out into the sun and making our way to the car, waiting just beside it until he finished closing his business, heading over to where his modest sedan was parked a few spaces down from the Jeep. With a nod of acknowledgement we all slid into our vehicles, Stiles pulling out first, the doctor following.

"So you know druids, huh?" Stiles asked conversationally once we were on the main road. "Like, real-living-actual-proper-druids?"

"They're not as uncommon as you think," I replied, knowing he was grateful for the small distraction. "Though most do live regular lives, so few live as they once did; living off the land, keeping to the forests. All my druid friends are modern as they come. One even owns an internet cafe."

"Huh," he hummed interestedly. "And how do you meet them? Is there some kind of meet-up club or a website or something? How do you supernaturals find each other?"

"Through people," I shrugged, idly staring out the window, watching the sky as it slowly darkened with thick clouds, wondering when it would give way to rain. "It's a community. Somebody always knows somebody, no matter which species you're brought into."

"I'd love to meet a witch one day," he admitted after a moment, glancing over at me sheepishly. "To see magic done firsthand, and know it isn't an illusion."

"That can certainly be arranged," I told him with a smile, reaching across to lightly run my fingertips along the back of his hand where it hung lazily from the gearshift. I watched his face for a minute, unable to help grinning when his heart fluttered. I would never tire of the sound, and it would be the thing I missed most when I eventually turned him. "You're strong."

He turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. "You're saying this why?"

I smiled over at him softly. "I just wanted you to know that you're the strongest person I know. The strongest person that I've ever known. Stronger than me, at any rate."

He snorted like what I'd said was ludicrous. "A sixteen year old boy is stronger than a two hundred year old vampire?" he asked dubiously.

"Okay, so maybe I'd beat you in an arm wrestle," I allowed with a smirk. "But if I'd been in the same situation as you when I was human," I shook my head, dreading to even think of how that would have gone down. "Surrounded by so much...of this. I don't think I could do it. But you do it beautifully."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Jules," he grinned playfully and things were quiet for the next three minutes as we made our way down the street the school was on. "For what it's worth," he added as he pulled into an empty parking space. "You're the strongest person I know too."

I smiled at him, reaching up to brush my knuckles down his face affectionately before cracking open my door and dropping onto the warm pavement.

"Lead the way," Deaton told us gently once he'd parked and gotten out, gesturing for us to move in front of him.

We led him through the back of the school, lessening the chance of somebody seeing him and asking questions. "Lydia," Stiles said as soon as we stepped into the music room, crossing the space to stand next to her, eyes sweeping her form, looking for any hint of an injury. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, nodding politely at Deaton and I as we filed in after him.

"What did you find?" the doctor asked her, moving to her side and eyeing the blood smeared on the top of the piano. She said nothing, picking up a palm-sized phone and tapping on the screen twice, some kind of chant beginning to fill the room. "Can we get a copy of this?" he requested, frowning as he listened to the tribal sounds.

I moved with Stiles, both of us heading over to the teacher's desk. The human began rummaging through the draws while I speed-read the documents sitting on top of the wood piece. "Hey, doc," Stiles piped up. "Any help would be – uh – helpful."

"Each grouping of three would have it's own purpose," the older man began. "Gives some type of power; virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors..."

"Wait," he cut him off, apparently finding something within the drawers. "Could that also be like a soldier?"

"Absolutely."

Stiles held up a photograph, showing a man who I assumed was the music teacher standing with his bride, wearing a full armed forces uniform. "Kyle was is ROTC with Boyd," he added, slapping the photo down on the desk.

"That's gotta be it," he replied seriously. "That's the pattern. Where's Boyd?"

"He's probably home by now, I'm going to try and get him on the phone," he responded, digging his phone from his pocket and moving to the other side of the room.

"Look, I hate to be the wet blanket, but wouldn't this guy need a human warrior?" I asked with a confused frown. "Why would they take Boyd – a werewolf – when it wouldn't do them any good as far as sacrificial power goes?"

"Lydia," Deaton spoke up, and I glanced at the girl, whose face was contorted in concern. "Something wrong?"

"No, I mean...I just thought of someone else with a military connection," she told us, painted lips pulled into a heavy frown.

Stiles looked up from where he was standing, "Who?"

"Mr Harris."

"Oh," I sighed, thoroughly relieved. "Good. I thought you were going to say it was someone important."

Lydia's worried expression hardened into a fierce glare. "Come on," Stiles stepped between us before any unnecessary drama could start. "Let's go to the chemistry room, see if we can't find him before jumping to any conclusions."

The walk to the second floor was tense, even Stiles wasn't stupid enough to try and spark a conversation. Lydia was the one who knocked on the door, calling out the teacher's name cautiously. There was no answer, and the girl's heart sped nervously in her chest.

"This is just one of many possibilities," Deaton commented as we slid into the empty room. "He could have simply left for the day."

"Not without this," Stiles argued, holding up a laptop case. I moved to his side, pulling open a drawer and rustling through it absently, not even sure what I was looking for. "This test is graded 'R'," he added after a beat, holding up the paper with the large red letter written on the front.

My eyes swept over the desk, eyes narrowing as I caught another odd letter in the pile. "And I've been through high school enough times to know 'H' also isn't a typical letter grade," I mentioned, snatching the test and holding it up for the others to see.

Deaton took the pages from us, eyeing them thoughtfully for a second before looking back at the messy pile of graded papers. He sorted through them, laying them out until the red letters spelt out a familiar word, one I'd heard more than once over my many years in Europe.

"Stiles, you remember that I told you 'druid' is the gaelic word for 'wise oak'?" he said, staring almost unseeingly across the room.

"Yeah," my boyfriend muttered cautiously.

"If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a 'dark oak'. There's a Gaelic word for that as well."

I blinked down at the offending word, feeling sick to my stomach. Life in this town would never be easy, would it?

"Darach."


The phone rang out once, but I wasn't letting him get out of it that easily. I rang again, and this time he picked up, sounding more irritated than anything. "What?" Kol snapped through the line.

"I need you to leave the house."

"What?" he asked again, this time in surprise rather than annoyance. "I thought you said-"

"Not permanently," I growled back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see. "Just for the night. Go to a bar, go back to some girl's place; I don't give a shit. But if you're there when I get home, I'll make your life a living hell."

"Ah – I see," he muttered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "How long should I stay out? Would an hour suffice? I doubt your little pet would last even a fraction of that time anyway-"

"Kol," I snapped angrily, glancing out the window of the jeep where Stiles was standing by his front door, talking to his dad in low tones. "I swear to God-"

"Yeah, yeah," he hummed, clearly less than interested in my threats.

"Don't come back until the sun's up," I instructed him quickly as Stiles bid his father a goodnight, holding his backpack over his head as he ran through the rain to the car. "You hear me?"

"Don't think you don't owe me," he said right before I hung up, but I couldn't have cared less, rolling my eyes again and pocketing my phone just as Stiles all but dove into his seat, door slamming shut behind him.

"Everything good?" I asked conversationally as he started the car, engine rumbling beneath us, heat softly blowing on our faces and soft jazz filling the cab.

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling out onto the road and heading towards the main road, on the way to my house. "How do you think Lydia's handling everything?"

The last person I wanted to talk about was Lydia, but I didn't want to make him feel bad for bringing her up. "She's had all summer to grow accustomed to the supernatural," I told him reassuringly. "I think she's okay."

He nodded silently, lips pursed as he thought. "Do you know what she is?" he eventually asked, crease appearing between his brows.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I think it's obvious to everyone that she's something," he responded blatantly. "I just wish I could figure out what it is."

I had some ideas, but the last thing I wanted was for it to get back to the girl that I was going around calling her 'psychic' or 'banshee' behind her back. It was best to wait until I had some definitive evidence before I went blabbing about my theories.

Things were quiet once again until he finally pulled into my driveway, taking the keys from the ignition, cutting off the music and plunging us into darkness. "Think we should wait for the rain to die down, or should we make a run for it?" he asked softly, leaning forwards to eye the water hitting the windshield.

"Run for it," I answered him with an impish grin, not hesitating to crack open my door and step out into the torrential downpour. I figured a little water wouldn't hurt, so I stayed where I was, waiting for Stiles to slip from his side, locking the Jeep behind him as he ran around the vehicle to meet me. I smiled at him, though he probably couldn't tell with his eyes full of water. I took his hand, tugging him through the rain and up my front steps, finally coming to a stop on my porch where the wet couldn't reach us.

Not that it mattered much, considering we were already soaked to the bone.

I slipped my front door key from my front pocket, sliding it into the lock and pushing it open, tossing the keys and my phone on the table just inside the door before making sure Stiles was inside and closing it tightly, locking it just to be safe.

I paused, still facing the door, my damp palms pressed to the blue surface.

Where did we go from here? Did I say something first? Did I just start things? Fuck, I hadn't been so nervous since I was human, these sort of things usually just...happened. I didn't have to work for men, they came to me, and things just spiralled. It was different with Stiles. Up until this point we had rules, we had lines that we both thought we couldn't cross.

"Jules?" Stiles asked unsurely, and I realised I hadn't turned the light on, leaving us in an encompassing darkness that probably made the human uncomfortable.

I reached my hand out, flicking on the light, a warm glow filling the room that made Stiles blink as his eyes adjusted. "Do you want something?" I asked gently, turning around to face him, forcing a calm smile to spread across my lips.

He knew me too well, suspicion on his face as he observed me closely. "Jules-"

"Tea? Coffee? Cereal?" I continued, striding passed him, flicking on lights as I went, making my way through into the kitchen. "I'd offer you something more, but that's about the extent of my cooking skills – as you well know. I have the things for pasta, if you want to help me cook it. We could also go with a nice salad? Uh, I think I have ingredients for a simple stir-fry..."

Okay, so I rambled when I was nervous.

"Jules, are you okay?" Stiles asked, heart speeding up in his chest. He stayed on the opposite side of the counter to me, and I hated the distance between us but did nothing to get rid of it. "Is something bothering you?" He'd caught on, not surprising since I wasn't usually one to babble under normal circumstances. I pressed my palms to the bench, gathering my thoughts and feelings.

I needed to stop being such a...pussy.

I grit my teeth for one moment, trying to quell my nerves, squeezing my eyes shut tight like it would somehow help me. "You said you loved me."

There, it was out. Only, the anxiety didn't lessen. As the silence stretched on, it only got worse.

Finally, he sucked in a deep breath, heart hammering so fast that in the back of my mind I was genuinely concerned about the possibility of a heart attack. "So did you."

So he'd definitely caught it then. I winced, wondering where to go from there.

"Jules," he said my name so gently, it made me ache. "Jules, look at me." Reluctantly I spun around, my sparkling emerald gaze colliding with his deep caramel stare. His heart stuttered again, and I watched him with vulnerable eyes, wondering how he was going to move. "Did you mean it?" he asked, sounding honestly doubtful.

My eyes widened and I took a step closer to him, stopping myself from reaching out to him. "Of course I meant it," I breathed, incredulous that he would question it at all. Suddenly, a spike of fear stabbed through me and I sucked in a sharp breath. "...Did you mean it?" I asked unsurely, clenching my hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

"Yes!" he blurted without hesitation, taking several steps around the counter, coming to a stop in front of me, just out of touching distance.

I stared at him with pure wonder. "I don't deserve it," I mumbled, simply drinking him in, observing the way his chest moved with his breaths.

"Well, believe it or not, you can be wrong sometimes," he retorted with a hesitant smirk. "And this happens to be one of those times."

My eyes swept over him once more, appreciating the way his white teeshirt clung to his body, still wet from the rain. A droplet of water rolled down his chin, running down his neck and disappearing between those two brilliant collarbones. "I could hurt you," I said, more to myself than to him. "And it could be a mistake..." His face scrunched in adorable confusion, not sure where I was taking the conversation. Bloody hell, who cared about the reasons I couldn't anymore? "Fuck it."

He opened his mouth, probably to ask me what the hell I was on about.

I silenced him with my lips, palms smacking against his cheeks as I pulled him in to me. He floundered for one long moment, not sure where to put his hands, lips still against mine, but eventually he got into the rhythm of things, one set of fingers curling around the back of my neck, the other sliding down to my waist to clutch at my hipbone. His lips pressed against mine more firmly, a soft sigh escaping him as he fell into the embrace.

I wanted more; I was sick of restraining myself.

My hands dragged up into his hair, and I gave a firm tug. He jumped at the feeling, moaning slightly as I licked at the seam of his mouth. I took a step forwards, pushing him backwards until his spine bumped into the edge of the counter, making him grunt as it dug into his back. I practically climbed him, sucking on his tongue for a long moment as I rocked into him. He pulled away quickly, sucking in a deep breath of – unfortunately – necessary air before dipping back down to rejoin our lips.

The second break seemed to ignite something within him, and suddenly he was pushing me, gently forcing me back until I hit the wall. He pressed the length of his body against me, kissing me sloppily – not that I minded – and groaning as his hands found mine. His fingers curled around mine tightly, lifting my arms until they were pinned above my head. Now it was my turn to moan, completely turned on by the way he suddenly took control.

He tilted his head, kissing me harder, instinctively rolling his hips into mine, the zip of his jeans dragging across the zip of my own, making a delicious friction that I instantly wanted more of.

I knew there was only so far we were going to be able to get against the wall of the kitchen, so I begrudgingly pulled my lips from his, slipping my wrists free to curl them around his hips. "Hold on to me," I breathed into his ear, and he barely had time to ask why before we were standing in my bedroom.

I didn't bother giving him time to recover, diving right back into another kiss, licking at his lips gently. He sucked in a breath before pressing back into me, hands running down my sides until they ended up at my hips. Hesitantly, like he wasn't sure it was okay, his fingers dipped up under my shirt, brushing the cool skin of my hips.

I sighed happily at the contact, deciding more of it was a sheer necessity, pulling away from him to take the time to grab the hem of my shirt, lifting it up and over my head in one smooth move. He swallowed loudly, eyes sweeping over my chest, barely covered by the blue material of my lace bra. There wasn't much light in the room, the only source coming from the streetlight shining in through my open window, the colour a blueish glow when combined with the silver of the luminous moon.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't want him to ruin it by opening his mouth, so I dove forwards once more, cupping his face and dragging him to me, hands quickly finding their way down his broad shoulders to the small of his back, where I slipping my hands under the dripping wet white shirt, brushing the soft skin at the base of his spine.

His breath hitched, and I suppressed a smug smile as I nipped at his lower lip, lightly dragging my fingernails down his back. Eventually the urge for more skin-on-skin contact got too much, and I grasped the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and over his wet hair. His arms got tangled in it for a moment, and I pulled back more to giggle. He grumbled something unintelligently under his breath, face flushed with red as he breathed heavily. I laughed again, moving forwards to softly press my forehead against his, and that time he couldn't help but chuckle breathlessly with me.

Finally I managed to get it off of him, and it dropped to the floor. Even though I wanted to look at him, I needed to touch him more, so I jumped back on him, one hand curled around the back of his neck and the other pressed to his chest, right over where his heart was thundering just under the skin.

I kissed him thoroughly, dragging my lips over his firmly, enjoying the way he shivered slightly when I ran a hand through his messy hair.

I pulled away from him, letting him finally breathe for more than a moment, instead making my way down his neck, finally getting my lips on those glorious collarbones. When I got to where I wanted to, I pressed my lips to him and sucked, running my tongue over the smooth skin, softly nibbling it. I kept going, loving the way he groaned with need, one hand combing through my long hair, even going so far as to tug lightly.

I worked my way back up his neck, stopping this time at his pulse-point to suck once again, licking his pinched skin gently, biting it. As I inhaled I got a whiff of his blood, so easily accessible; just under the skin. I pulled back abruptly, snapping my jaw closed resolutely and gritting my teeth, eyes on the hickey beginning to form on his otherwise unblemished skin.

"Jules," he exhaled through heavy breaths, looking at me with large, expressive eyes. "Jules-"

"I'm okay," I whispered as I stared back at him, a small smirk appearing on my no doubt swollen lips. "I'm better than okay."

He leaned closer, once more connecting our foreheads, so close his eyelashes brushed mine when he blinked. "Jules, are you sure-"

"God yes," I sighed eagerly, fingers running lightly over his ears before once again running through his wonderful hair. I surged forwards, pressing our lips together again. He groaned into my mouth as I pressed my chest into his, the lace rubbing against his sensitive skin. Finally he put those brilliant hands of his to good use, running them down to clutch at my ass.

I needed more and I needed it now. I pressed into him for a long moment before putting enough space between us that I could reach for his belt, undoing it with ease, all but ripping it from his pants and throwing it carelessly to the side, hearing it hit a wall and slide to the floor. I raked my fingernails over his hips again, moving my thigh up to nudge between his legs, feeling him straining against his jeans. He groaned at the contact, rocking into me with unadulterated need.

I stepped away from him, curling my hand around his neck and using it to pull him with me, moving backwards until the backs of my knees hit the edge of my king sized bed. I let myself fall back, dragging Stiles down with me. His hands snapped out instinctually, stopping his weight from entirely falling onto me, catching and holding himself over me. I leaned back up to kiss him again, my hands making quick work of his button and zipper, instantly tugging his jeans off his hips. He frantically kicked them off, making me have to stifle a soft giggle.

With a grunt he met my lips again, once hand in my still wet hair, the other brushing from the edge of my jeans before slowly – infuriatingly slowly – slid up to my chest. His fingers stopped just shy of my breast, like he wasn't sure he could do that. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, reaching down to wrap my hand around his, forcefully pulling his hand up to cover my left breast. He groaned loudly, and having a feeling he could handle it from there, I let go, moving to wrap my arms around his back, gently dragging my nails down his back once more, earning another deep groan; he definitely seemed to be a fan of scratching.

I filed that away for later.

His hand was having a blast on my tit, and I was getting sick of the barrier. With a grunt, I rolled over him, so his back was pressed to the sheets. Sitting back on his hips, he stared up at me foggily in the glow of the moon, pupils completely blown with lust. I made sure he was paying attention, before reaching back and unclipping the stupid bra. It fell off my body with ease, and I threw it over my shoulder haphazardly.

He gulped, eyes flickering over every inch of me like he wasn't sure where to look. I bit my lip to smother a smirk as I rocked my hips against the obvious bulge in his boxer-briefs, moaning once more at the friction, though nowhere near as loudly as he did.

I wasn't much of a screamer unless I wanted to be, but I could tell Stiles would definitely a vocal one. Finally, he seemed to get ahold of himself once more, grasping my hips and rolling us over once more so he was on top of me. He leaned down, shakily trying to undo the zipper of my leather pants. My own hands moved down to help him, and noticing that I could handle it better than him, he stopped his task, one hand moving to my bare breast.

His mouth moved down my jaw, he licked fleetingly at where my pulse point would be, before moving down, and down, over my collarbone and along the top of my right breast. Finally his lips closed around my nipple, and I let out a breathy sigh as I held one hand to his head, keeping his mouth exactly where it was as I fought to pull off my pants. They were soaking wet, and therefore sticking to my skin.

Stiles pulled back for a beat to help me pull them off, then he was right back at my tits, kneading one and sucking on the other. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, my head thrown back as I took in the feeling of his mouth on my chest, his hardness pressing against my thigh. He was clearly having fun where he was, but I wanted more.

I ran my hands lightly down his side until I got to his briefs, and I briefly considered getting permission before deciding it was pointless and dipping my hand inside. Stiles crumbled on top of me, whimpering into my flesh.

I slid my hand up his length, and he cried out. Knowing it was a lot for him, I let go, my fingertips trailing over his hip bones teasingly. Gaining control over himself once more, he blinked at me glassily. "I-I don't know-" he tried to say, heart racing with nerves and anticipation.

"Touch me Stiles," I whispered to him, meeting his caramel gaze before running my eyes over his freckles and lips, absently noticing how gorgeous he looked.

"W-where?" he stammered, breath hitching when I wrapped my hand around him once more and gave a slow tug.

"Wherever. You. Want." I punctuated each word with a stroke, and a shudder ran down the human's spine. Finally, once he'd regained command of his hands, his free one moved to between my legs, only to pause before touching me, clearly hesitating. I smiled at how sweet he was, arching into him and forcing us to make contact. He gasped, feeling my damp panties and gingerly cupping me, unsure how to proceed.

Lips still tipped up, I reached down with the hand not stroking his length, placing it over his and moving it under the cloth. "Oh fuck," he breathed, panting as his eyes slid shut tightly.

"Like this," I murmured to him, coaxing his fingers into an even stroke. His face was scrunched up, barely able to handle what was happening. I pressed my lips to his, nibbling at his bottom lips then lapping my tongue over the mark affectionately. With an only slightly impatient push, I persuaded his fingers inside of me. Stiles gasped, rutting against my other hand, which had yet to break rhythm on his cock.

I knew he wouldn't last long, he was inexperienced, and I had to take that into account. So I let go of him, and in one smooth move my panties and his boxers were gone, discarded on the floor beside my bed. I rolled us over, forcing him onto his back and straddling him.

He peered up at me with a hooded stare. I frowned, leaning down to kiss him again softly, before pulling back to meet his eyes with concern. "Are you sure-?"

"Please tell me you're not actually asking me that question," he panted, voice low and husky, making the area below my gut tingle.

I smirked, "Fair enough."

I sank onto him, and he gave a startled gasp, head instantly thrown back onto the pillows as he moaned. I bit my lip to contain my own sound of pleasure, lowering myself further onto him until our pelvises touched.

I stayed where I was, lips pressed together as I revelled in the feeling to being full for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I didn't think I'd ever gone that long without sex before. But the wait was worth it, because it was Stiles.

I rocked my hips, and he groaned, eyes clenched tightly as his hands fumbled for a place to settle, eventually finding a home on my hipbones. I rocked again, and this time he better controlled himself, merely sucking in a breath instead of making one of those delicious noises.

That wouldn't do.

I lifted myself up, dropping back onto him and huffing myself at the feeling. He grunted again, lips parting to whisper my name, so quietly that I almost didn't hear it. "Stiles," I murmured back like it was a prayer – my first prayer in centuries. I began to move faster then, more desperately, both of us needed the friction. "Stiles," I said his name again, one hand moving to intertwine our fingers, the other grasping his other one, bringing it down between where we were so intimately joined.

Using soft, coaxing motions, he got the idea that rubbing my clit was something of a cheat, especially when I tightened around him, making him groan.

"Stiles, look at me," I commanded him, slowing my movements for a long moment, giving him enough clarity to peer up at me weakly. "I love you."

He needed to know, I couldn't handle it if he didn't. He nodded, groaning again. "I love you," he responded in kind, affection overflowing in his tone (though that could have been the approaching orgasm).

I swooped down to connect our lips once more, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and running it along his. He tried to move his other hand, the one tangle with mine, but I was having none of it. I needed him, I needed more.

I sped up again, and he threw his head back, rubbing me faster, more desperately.

I came first, making no other sounds than a soft gasp. I fluttered around him, and he let go, unable to take it anymore. His hips bucked several times as he finished, groaning into my mouth. "I love you," I whispered into his lips again, squeezing his hand tightly and waiting for him to ride it out.

Finally he sank into the mattress, completely boneless. He peered up at me through sleepy, hooded eyes. I swung off of him, biting my lip as he slipped out of me. I reached to the end of the bed, picking up the quilt thrown there haphazardly and pulling it up and over us.

I curled into his side. It was uncommon for me to do so, usually Stiles was the one wrapped around me like an octopus. But I felt fond and warm in a way I hadn't felt in far too long. I tucked my head in the spot between his shoulder and ear, pressing my lips to his clammy skin. "I have to call Scott," he muttered, and I snorted a laugh, shaking my head at the human.

"In the morning, Romeo," I rolled my eyes, glancing up at his freckled face with a loving smile. "For now, just enjoy the moment."

Our legs were tangled together, and he snuggled closer to me, sighing contently into my hair.

"At least I can't be a virgin sacrifice anymore," he muttered sleepily into the dark as I trailed my fingertips over his smooth chest.

"You're welcome," I replied cheekily, and his lips twitched up in amusement.

We were silent. Then, "You know I'm in love with you, right?"

So he got sappy after sex. That was good to know.

I was going to comment, but he continued on, beginning to ramble – his default setting. "I just need you to know. I'm in love with you. Like, Twilight in love with you."

"I thought we weren't comparing us to that train-wreck," I mumbled with a smile, gently rubbing my lips over his skin, inhaling his scent, pleased when I didn't feel the urge to bite. The hunger was there, of course, it never wouldn't be; but I was able to control it with relative ease.

"It's the best comparison I can come up with after that...thing."

"What thing?" I asked with a hidden but impish smirk.

"The thing that just happened," he mumbled tiredly, head lulling to the side.

"You mean the sex?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "That."

I chuckled. "Go to sleep, Stiles," I told him, brushing my thumb gently over the skin above his beating heart. "And remember that I love you."


A/N: Hope this was good for you guys, let me know what you thought of it!

Also, I'm getting pretty deep into the workings of that Bellamy/OC (The 100) story I was telling you about. I'm liking what it's looking like so far, and once I feel like I've written far enough into it, I'm gonna start posting. Hope you guys are still interested!

PS, do you like the songs at the beginning of each chapter? I'm thinking I might do that for this new story too. Let me know!