A/N: Hope you guys like this chapter, ends with kind of a cliffhanger, but I think you'll forgive me...eventually.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor do I make any form of profit from this.


I'll face my fear of the sunrise

when I wake up with your hand inside mine.

It's hard to say "good morning"

when it's followed with "goodbye".

Eyelids – PVRIS


"I've seen worse."

Had he, though? The glowing lights of the sign for the motel were flickering on and off, mostly off more than anything. The whole place reeked of death and bad decisions. "Where have you seen worse?" Stiles asked incredulously, shouldering his bag as he stepped from the bus, turning back to intertwine his hand with me and pull me out after him.

I stepped onto the hard ground, gravel crunching under the thick soles of my boots.

The sound of Coach's whistle cut through the warm night air. "Listen up!" he shouted to the group of less-than-enthusiastic kids. "The meet's been pushed to tomorrow. This is the closest hotel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves." He held out a handful of keys, "You're pairing up. Choose wisely."

"I've done the math, and I'm the odd one out," I muttered to Stiles. "I have to go with a pair."

"Come with Scott and I," he replied instantly. "Obviously."

"Juliet!" Coach barked, clearly realising the same thing I had. "You'll be bunking with those girls," he said, gesturing vaguely at Allison and Lydia.

My eyes locked onto his, expression dropping into a blank one as my pupils dilated. "I'll be staying with Stiles," I compelled him, voice like honey.

He blinked then snorted, making me blink back in surprise. That shouldn't have happened. "Nice try," he sneered, shaking his head at me amusedly. "You'll be with your own gender for the night." He turned around to face the loitering crowd, speaking loudly so they (and more specifically, I) could hear him. "And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves."

I made a face at the teacher, and he made one right back, turning around and heading straight for the room closest to the reception desk. Before he slipped into the door, he looked over his shoulder, gesturing pointedly between our eyes, clearly trying to convey that he would be watching me.

"Did you give him vervain?" I asked Stiles once the mentally disturbed man was behind closed doors.

"Coach?" he asked incredulously, snorting at the mere thought.

"Yeah," I muttered, eyeing the closed door suspiciously. "You have a point."

"Come on," he said, squeezing our connected hands briefly before beginning to drag me towards the stairs. "I could seriously use a shower-"

"Oh, no you don't," Lydia piped up, stepping in our path, arms crossed over her chest. Her heart was pounding wildly under her sweater, and her fingers were tapping out an uneven beat on her arm.

"What's wrong?" I asked in concern, eyes sweeping the parking lot, looking for any hint of a threat.

"You're coming with us," she said, forcing a weirdly cheery tone to her voice. "It's girl's night."

I stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Girl's night?" I echoed blankly, blinking twice as I waited for the punchline.

"Yep," she nodded her head, giving a shaky breath. I continued to stare suspiciously. Finally her expression turned pleading, those big eyes of hers turning to liquid. "Please," she asked sincerely, and between her shaky limbs and racing heart, I got the feeling she was afraid of something. She hadn't been wrong about this sort of thing before, and that only made me want to stay with Stiles more.

"That sounds great!" Stiles injected before I could say anything. I turned to stare at him dubiously, eyebrows nearly hitting my hairline. "Girl bonding time. Get in some good...nail painting, and...pillow fighting..."

I reached up under the pretence of bringing him down to my level for a kiss, only to roughly grab his collar to yank him towards me, eyeing him dangerously. "What game are you playing, sweetheart?" I asked, my voice sickly sweet.

He gulped before whispering back to me in a rush, "Look, this is the perfect time for you to spend some time with Lydia and see what a great person she is. Maybe you two can get over this weird thing you have against each other and learn to be friends."

I grimaced. "But I don't want to," I whined quietly, this time really cupping my palms around the back of his neck. I pushed myself onto my toes, our noses lightly brushing. "I'd rather stay with you, maybe help you in the shower..."

His eyes unfocused for a long few seconds before he physically shook his head in an effort to clear it. "Come on," he urged softly, caramel eyes narrowing pleadingly. I grit my teeth, wanting to say no, but feeling like I should say yes.

For once it wasn't Stiles' unfair puppy-dog eyes making me reconsider. The beef I had with Lydia was childish and petty. She didn't like Stiles; Stiles didn't like her; and she wasn't as shallow as I liked to pretend she was. I was running out of reasons not to be friends with her.

I let go of Stiles, turning to face a waiting Lydia with a blank face. "Girl's night sounds good," I bit out, trying to pretend like the words didn't taste like acid in my mouth.

"Good," she nodded curtly, readjusting the bag on her shoulder before turning around and marching over the stairs where Allison stood at the bottom, patiently waiting for us.

"I'm proud of you," Stiles mumbled with a smile, but I merely rolled my eyes.

"Have fun showering alone," I retorted, and his face fell. I bobbed up, pressing my lips to his cheek once before spinning around and following the path the girl's left to the room we were staying in. "I refuse to paint my nails, have anything put on my face, and I especially refuse to participate in 'gossip'."

Allison looked up at me flatly. "It's not really a slumber party," she told me with a small smile.

"Then why can't I stay with my boyfriend?"

Lydia cleared her throat, looking away uncomfortably. "Don't you feel it?" she asked quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I understood what she meant instantly, though I wasn't sure why I was the one she was coming to with it. "You mean the death?" She looked up at me sharply, eyes wide like she hadn't been expecting me to know what she was on about. "I felt it the moment we pulled up."

"What does it mean?" she asked desperately, eyes glassy as she pulled at the sleeves of her jumper.

I considered lying, but decided if this whole 'friendship' thing was going to sail, honesty was probably a good place to start. "I don't know for sure," I responded with a shrug. "I'm no banshee, but I can tell you one thing; people have died here. A lot of people."

"Can you just...tell?" Lydia asked, and I got the feeling she could.

"Sort of," I told her, moving over to a seat by the window. "More than anything I can smell all the blood."

Instinctively both girls sniffed. "It smells of chemicals," Allison countered with a frown.

I tapped my nose, a light smirk gracing my red lips. "Not to me." I eyed Lydia closely, wishing she wasn't wearing vervain so I could just ask her what I wanted to know. "Why're you asking me?"

She hesitated, and I got the feeling she didn't think I'd like what she had to say next. "The feeling I get from this place," she mumbled uncomfortably, breathing deeply probably to calm herself down. "It's the same feeling I get when I touch you."

That only confirmed my suspicions, but still I decided that voicing them wouldn't be prudent.

Unfortunately, the redhead sensed that I knew more than I was letting on. "Do you know something?!" she asked desperately, and for a moment I felt bad, not being able to imagine being something supernatural and not knowing exactly what it was.

"Nothing concrete," I responded honestly, and she frowned, running a hand through her hair before turning and taking a seat on the bed. She looked irritated, like she had a few choice words she'd love to pull from her intelligent mind.

Allison intervened before things could get any more tense. "So what happened with Stiles?" she asked casually, smiling over at me from her place on the other bed.

"Remember what I just said about my participation in gossip?" I reminded her darkly, eyes flashing blood red. Unfortunately the raven-haired beauty was a hunter, and therefore not easily frightened by my little party trick. I made a face at her, to which she only smiled pleasantly, making my expression deepen.

"Come on," she prompted restlessly. "Give us something."

This was my chance, I knew she was eager for details as well as getting conversation going between Lydia and I. To be completely honest, I was sick of working so hard not to like her, so with a sigh, I relented. "What do you want to know?"

"How is he?" Allison asked under her breath, like the question was taboo.

"Fine, I think?" I responded, confused by how mundane the inquiry was.

She rolled her eyes. "She means in bed," Lydia said, lips twitching up in something I would almost call amusement.

"Oh," I muttered in realisation, clearing my throat at the awkward miscommunication. "Uh, in a word? Indescribable."

Allison huffed, clearly seeing the deflection. "Come on, I'm not asking for a play by play." Still, I said nothing. "Okay, I'd say that after 200 years, you're probably...experienced," she tried again, still attempting to be delicate about it, which was endlessly amusing. "How does he measure up?"

I took a deep breath, allowing the air to calm me. "Let's just say, he's in my top three," I admitted, and Lydia smirked widely at my words.

There was a knock at the door, and we all looked up curiously. "I've got it," I told them, hearing a familiar heartbeat from the other side of the slab of wood. "Hello love," I greeted my boyfriend, leaning in the doorway and smiling at him serenely. The girls giggled under their breaths from behind me, but his dull human hearing didn't pick it up.

"I take it nobody's been staked or eaten yet?" he piped with a shit-eating grin.

I narrowed my green eyes, "Yet." It wasn't completely true, so far Lydia's been more than completely tolerable, but I didn't want him to know I was that easily swayed.

He cleared his throat. "Want to come get something from the vending machine with me?" he asked after a beat.

I frowned, "Is that a euphemism?"

"What-no!" he cried, rolling his eyes. He stuck his hand into his pocket, before cringing and pulling it back out only for it to be empty. "Uh do you have any spare change on you?" he asked meekly, and I patted my pocket, feeling a few crumpled bills under the denim.

"Come on," I tutted, stepping from the room into the fairly warm air of the night. "I'll be back shortly!" I called over my shoulder to the girls, who were murmuring between themselves inside the room. Allison called out an acknowledgement, and I let the door click shut behind me, moving out into the open with Stiles. "What are you-" the world suddenly dipped, like I was in a free fall, and I stumbled, which a vampire never does.

"Whoa," Stiles muttered, wrapping an arm around me to steady me. Something was wrong. "You alright?"

I blinked, turning my attention back to Stiles. "I'm fine," I replied just as his stomach made a loud grumbling sound. "Come on," I used our joined bodies to pull him along. "Let's get some food in you."

"That's not all I want in me." I stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him incredulously. He frowned as he went over what he'd said in his head, then winced as he realised how it sounded. "That came out wrong," he stammered, clearing his throat awkwardly. "It sounded smoother in my head. I meant that I want something in you, not the other way around-"

"Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up." I looked pointedly at Boyd, who was doing a pretty good job of pretending he couldn't hear the train-wreck of a conversation happening before him. Stiles pulled at his collar, clicking his tongue uncomfortably.

"Yo," he greeted the taller wolf awkwardly as I dug out my spare money, handing it to my boyfriend with an eye roll. "Hey, that was the same thing I was gonna get," he commented chattily as he watched Boyd input a sequence of numbers on the keypad. Boyd didn't respond; not even a blink of acknowledgement, only solidifying my suspicions that something was wrong. There was a crank from the machine, then it froze, the food staying lodged in the device. "Oh, hang on, I've got a patented method for this," Stiles began with a friendly smile.

He reached up to grasp the top, preparing to tilt it, reminding me of when he'd done the same thing and caused a disaster in the trauma ward of the hospital. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but Boyd cut me off by throwing his fist into the glass. Stiles' heart jumped in shock at the action while I raised my eyebrows calmly.

The tall and dark kid reached in and took out his snack, eyes sliding right past us as he turned to leave. "Huh," I hummed, watching him go with a frown. Stiles did the same for a long minute, only to quickly turn and try to inconspicuously snatch his own treats from inside the broken machine. "I'm a bad influence on you," I tutted with a fond smile. He grinned at me, reaching in one final time and snatching some kind of chocolate bar, handing it to me proudly. I tucked it into my pocket, turning to leave with him, when a scent caught my attention.

I froze, the smell filling my nostrils, hunger rearing it's ugly head in my gut.

"Jules?" Stiles asked, but it sounded like he was underwater.

Whatever was wrong, it wasn't something I wanted Stiles involved in. "I need to make a phone call," I lied through my teeth, turning away from him so he couldn't see the whites of my eyes slowly fill with blood. "Go back to your room, I think I heard Scott calling for you."

"Are you sure-"

"Now, Stiles," I snapped, still staring resolutely at the wall, refusing to look at him. He swallowed thickly but did as he was told, footsteps echoing on the creaking stairs as he ascended them. I grit my teeth, taking a step forwards once Stiles had disappeared from view.

I took a deep, calming breath, then glanced around the corner. It was empty, nobody there, and no visible blood anywhere visible to the naked eye.

"Jules?" I spun around, blinking in surprise at Lydia. "Everything okay?" she asked warily, peering around me to eye the small alcove I was staring at.

"Everything's fine," I responded robotically.

Something was wrong.

"Come on," she said, waving me over to follow her. "I've gotta tell you and Allison something."

Taking one last look at the alcove, I turned to meet her at the stairs, following her up them and down the hall into our shared room.

"Allison?!" she called to her best friend once we were inside.

"Do you have the towels?!" the brunette responded from the bathroom. Without another word the redhead moved to where the shower was still running. "Thanks," she muttered to Lydia as she took one, switching off the water and hopping out to dry herself.

I sniffed lightly, eyebrows raising as I took an a familiar scent. "Was Scott here?" I asked over my shoulder.

Her heart stuttered, but I didn't react, merely filing the information away for later. "Yeah," she answered me after a beat. I wanted to make a comment about how she'd been in the shower at the time, but I changed my mind, deciding it wasn't my place.

"So, when I was at the reception, they had a counter on the wall," Lydia began, taking a seat on the bed as Allison half closed the door to the bathroom, getting changed back into her clothes. "Guess what it was for."

"Just tell us," I drawled, and she briefly rolled her eyes.

"Suicides in the motel."

Allison and I were silent for a beat. "How many?" she asked seriously as she nudged open the door again, towel-drying her dark hair.

"198."

"198?"

"Yep," Lydia murmured. "And we're talking forty years. On average that's 4.95 a year which is...actually expected – but who commemorates that with a framed number?"

"All suicides?" I asked curiously, arms crossed as I leaned back against the peeling paint of the wall.

"Yes," she replied with a dull grimace. "Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides."

The smell was back.

It ate at me, so strong it burned my nose. I could practically taste it. I knew I needed to figure it out, where had I smelt it before? "I'll be back," I told the girls, but Lydia wasn't listening. I didn't wait for them to pay attention, deciding it was better just to slip from the room quietly.

I made my way along the terrace, hand running along the chipped paint coated thickly onto the metal barrier. I paused outside Stiles and Scott's room, facing the open road and taking a deep breath in.

Something was wrong.

I frowned, not even bothering to scan the area for humans before grasping the rail and pushing myself over it. I landed on my feet with ease, my shoes thumping against the dirt. I straightened, eyes sweeping the area, purely for the source of that smell.

"Hm, I love the smell of fresh blood in the evening," I snapped around, staring at Kol, who stood leaning against the wall. He had a girl held to his chest, several years younger than our physical age. One arm was wrapped around her waist, the other holding her chin in place. A large, bloody bite mark sat on her shoulder, droplets of blood gliding down over her tan skin. "Want a bite?"

"I think I'll pass," I responded with a sneer, turning away. I forgot how fast he moved, because I'd barely turned fully around before he was leaning against the opposite wall, staring at me calmly, like he hadn't just run around me with a struggling victim in his arms.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a vampire, darling," he cooed, ducking down to lick at the gaping wound. Blood smeared on his lips, and he moaned in bliss.

My gums tingles and my fists clenched as I fought the urge to feed.

"Well, if you're not going to partake-" without further fanfare he jerked his hand, easily snapping the girl's neck.

My eyes widened in alarm and I gasped, disappearing from my spot and re-materialising beside the girl's body. I leaned over her, watching her chest, hoping it would move even though I could hear her heart, still and unbeating in her chest. I glared up at Kol with fury; Stiles would never forgive me. "You promised you wouldn't-"

"You're a vampire, Juliet," he growled threateningly, eyes flooding with blood. "Start acting like it."

I snarled, all but diving at the older vampire...only to run into air.

Startled, I swung around, sweeping the area to find that both Kol and the girl's corpse had vanished. I swallowed thickly, running my hands through my already messy hair. Was I going insane? Had I finally snapped?

"Jules!"

I swung around, fist clenched tight and ready to attack, only for me to freeze inches from Stiles' face.

"Jules, something's happening to the wolves, we think it's..." my boyfriend trailed off, noticing the terrified expression on my face. "Oh shit, it's happening to you too."

"What?" I asked, my face instantly clearing of worry. His own scrunched in suspicion. "No, Stiles, everything's fine," I assured him, only half lying. Whatever was wrong, I could handle it. "Something's wrong with the wolves?" I asked, changing the topic, trying to distract him. "Is Scott okay?"

"Yeah, Allison's gone to find him now," he nodded, eyes still narrowed but thankfully dropping it for the moment. "I'm going to go get Boyd, can you find Isaac, make sure he's okay? Keep him from killing himself?"

"Keep him from what?" I exclaimed in alarm. He winced, probably realising he could have been more delicate with that one.

"Look, we think it's the Darach," he revealed softly, taking a step closer. "Somehow they're making the wolves have visions, making them want to hurt themselves – kill themselves."

I quickly nodded, concern settling heavily in my gut. "I'll find Isaac."

He looked reluctant to let me go, but after a long pause nodded, turning around and rushing back across the lot. "I have to speak to Lydia," he called over his shoulder. "Meet you back here soon."

He ran off, disappearing around the corner. There was a whimper from the left, and since I didn't knew which room Isaac was in, I figured that was a start. With a frown I wandered around the side of the motel, glancing up for a brief moment at the stars before eyeing the person curled into a ball along the wall.

"Hello?" I called, approaching the person, watching as they shook in the moonlight. "Are you okay?"

"Don't come any closer!"

It was a young woman. A familiar one, if the scent was anything to go by. Where had I met her before? "It's okay, I'm here to help you!"

"No!" she shrieked suddenly. "You're one of them!"

She looked up, glowering at me with contempt and fear. My eyes widened as I met her ocean blue eyes. I remembered her. More specifically, I remember the way her blood tasted as it pooled in my mouth only a few short weeks ago in that alley. "You," I mumbled, gritting my teeth against the hunger.

"Is this really what you've become?"

I swung around, staring out into the vast empty desert that surrounded me, the only sign of life the lights from the motel behind me. "Who's there?" I demanded frantically, fingers curled like claws, preparing to attack at a moment's notice.

"It's so sad that you've already forgotten."

With a gasp I spun back to face the back wall of the motel where the innocent girl was curled up. She was still there, only now a familiar face stood in front of her, hands clasped serenely over her white nightgown.

"Myra," I all but choked, stomach swooping unpleasantly.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Aunt Juliet."

There was nothing I could say. What could I possibly tell her? "I'm sorry," I breathed, eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Is that it?" she asked, heavily lined face pulling into a scowl. "You're sorry?"

"I'm trying," I gasped, swallowing thickly as I struggled to keep myself together. "I'm trying so hard."

"And yet there is still so much blood on your hands."

I stared into her light blue eyes, the same eyes that my sister (her great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother) had. "I've made mistakes. I'm working on it, I'm getting better! Stiles-"

"You think falling in love with a human washes away all that blood from your hands?" she asked, words cutting deeper than knives ever could. "You think it makes you a better person? It makes me sick."

"I'm sorry sweetheart-" I tried to say, but the old lady – the last of my bloodline – merely scowled at me in distaste.

"You're going to slip up again," she told me darkly, and I could feel my own hands shaking. "And next time, it won't be a stranger. It'll be the people you care about most."

"No!" I argued as strongly as I could – which wasn't very. "You're wrong. I can fight it."

"No. You. Can't." I sobbed aloud, the sound pathetic and broken. I pressed a hand to my empty chest, wishing for the billionth time that my heart would just beat. "You're only going to bring pain and destruction to that boy's life. If you really loved him, you'd end it now."

"How will breaking up with him help?" I asked through my tears.

"Don't end the relationship," she spat venomously. "End your life."

"I've survived this long," I argued with an embarrassing sniffle. "I'm not bowing out from something as pathetic as suicide."

"Even if that's what's best for Stiles?"

She had me there. I was a cancer, and I was actually considering giving Stiles my disease. I was daydreaming about feeding him my blood and snapping his neck. How fucked up can a person get? I took a rough, shuddering breath.

"You're going to slip up again," my descendant told me quietly, something like pity in her eyes, that was almost worse than the disgust. The girl from the other week whimpered in fear, and I glanced at her, watching in sickening fascination as blood began to stain her white top as it poured freely from the bite mark on her neck. "How many times do you think he'll forgive you? How much blood is too much?"

"I'm trying-"

"But it's not enough!" she roared, her voice strong for someone of such an age. I remembered her when she was little, back before she knew who – and what – I was. Little black haired Myra, running in the park with her dog, long pigtails flying behind her in the wind. "I asked you to stop. My dying wish was that you stop the bloodshed. And now look at you."

Confused, I glanced down at my hands, freezing when I saw they were coated with thick, syrupy blood, the substance buried under my nails and dripping from my fingertips. I had the terrifying urge to lick them, to ingest the delicious substance that was worse than any drug manufactured by man. I wanted it. I needed it.

With a sickened cry I left the hotel, running around the side and up the stairs, too fast for the group in the parking lot to see me. Stiles room was the first place I went, somewhere I could be enveloped in his scent. It comforted me, even as I rushed to the bathroom, turning on the tap and thrusting my bloody hands under the water, scrubbing them frantically in an effort to get rid of the blood.

The water ran red with it, swishing down the sink with a sucking noise, but despite that, the blood stayed. No matter how much I rubbed, no matter how desperately I scrubbed, the blood was stained on my hands. The blood of hundreds upon thousands of people, staining my skin.

It hadn't bothered me previously. Some nights when I was drunk I would look down at my bloody hands and laugh. Some nights I'd try to lick it off. Never had it ever sent me into something so pathetically human as a panic attack.

Finally, realising it was a lost cause, I turned off the water, sinking to the floor of the motel's bathroom and tipping my head back so my skull cracked against the tiled wall. The pain felt good, it felt right.

I slammed it back again, wincing as my skull split open only to slowly begin to heal itself. I couldn't even hurt myself without doing it wrong. With an angry cry I reared my arm up and slammed it down into the tiles of the floor. They smashed under my hand, and my ring pressed hard enough into my skin to leave a temporary imprint.

My ring.

That was it. That was the answer.

With a relieved sigh, I slid it off my finger holding it up to the light, watching as the lapis lazuli sparkled prettily. Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet, moving over to the bed on the left of the room. Stiles' bag was still propped beside it, and I crouched beside it, unzipping it and leaning down to get one last whiff of his scent before I dropped the ring into it's depths.

I moved to the door, closing it softly behind me before grasping onto the hanging roof, easily pulling myself up and over the top. I settled myself down on the metal of the roof, leaning back so I was laying back on the diagonal material, legs dangling precariously off the side as I stared up at the starry night sky, filled with nothing but peace.

"Jules?!" Stiles familiar voice called out from below me, and I frowned. I hadn't planned for him to see it. He shouldn't have to watch me burn. "Jules?!"

"Stiles," Allison whispered, her footsteps coming to a stop beside him. "Look."

There was a pause, then, "Jules!? We've been looking for you everywhere!" I didn't respond, merely breathing in the crisp air of the early morning, watching as the final few stars disappeared from view. "What're you doing up there?"

The sun was coming up.

"Jules?!" he sounded worried now, and that was just another thing to add to the growing list of negative things I did to Stiles. "Come down."

Deciding that saying nothing would only make things worse, I sat up, staying perched on the edge but leaning over so I could look down at the humans, Lydia and Scott came to a stop next to them, peering up at me.

I smiled sadly down at all my friends. "I'm watching the sunrise," I told them serenely, glancing back up at the horizon, seeing the sky turn a beautiful lilac as the sun began it's ascent.

"Jules!" his voice was like ice now, heart hammering away as he no doubt figured out that something was seriously wrong. "Please, come down," he begged, voice cracking as he pleaded.

"What's going on?" Lydia whispered to him, either forgetting or uncaring that I could hear every word.

"I don't know, but something's wrong," he murmured back, heart racing even faster. "Jules!" he called again. "I just went through this with Scott and I'll be damned if I'm going to go through it with you as well," he snapped firmly, but I could hear pain hidden in his tone.

I smiled sadly again, blinking away tears as I looked up at the sky which was slowly turning a peach colour. "But she'll survive a fall," Scott told him in a hushed voice, clearly confused. I smiled at the sky; Scott, always the optimist.

"I don't think falling is her plan," Allison whispered back, and I glanced down to meet her eyes, lips twitching up as I tilted my head, observing my friend.

"Oh God," Stiles exclaimed, making a retching sound as he glanced over his shoulder at the impending sunrise. "Juliet!" he cried out, more serious and desperate than I had ever heard him. "Tell me you're wearing your daylight ring!"

I smiled again, a single tear dripping down my cheek. I wasn't afraid of dying; hell, I was already dead. I was afraid of leaving Stiles. But Myra was right, I had to do what was best by him, even if that meant getting myself out of the picture. "You're always the one who figures it out, Stiles," I called back, only just loud enough for the humans to hear. "I love that about you."

"Juliet, please," he pleaded, voice cracking once more. I hated that I was causing him pain. But it would all be over soon. "Where is it? Juliet where is it?"

"Do you think you'll be okay?" I asked airily, staring absently at the horizon. "I mean, I'm not that much of a help to the team anyway. Kol's right, I am a pathetic excuse for a vampire."

"Jules, please," he begged from below. "If you love me you'll tell me where the ring is."

"You'll find it soon enough," I called down to him gently. "I know you'll take good care of it."

He turned to Allison, "Go to my room and find my bag. It has to be in there somewhere." I marvelled again at how incredibly well my human boyfriend knew me. It was a gift, to have someone know me so wholly and still like what they saw. Allison raced up the stairs, disappearing from my view though I could hear her rummaging through the room, desperately searching for my trinket.

"Jules, I know you think you're not an asset to us; I know you think you're doing what's best for me. But you're the only thing that keeps me together. Without you, I wouldn't be able to survive this life. And I love you, more than anything. So please, you're only hurting me more by doing this. Please stop. Please come down."

My heart snapped in two, but it wasn't enough to change my mind. Myra was still right. I'd be the death of him in one way or another.

"Juliet Adams what did I tell you about not pulling a Goddamn Twilight?!" he shouted furiously, loud enough that it probably woke someone up.

I remembered that day in the kitchen, talking about the boundaries for our relationship. I swore I wouldn't pull this kind of thing. What did it say about me if I went back on that? If I gave in to the pressure?

Fucking hell, I was stronger than this.

"Juliet, get down here right now!"

The sun broke over the horizon, the sunlight hitting me straight on. For a split second I only felt warm, like a human merely basking in the sunlight on a beach somewhere exotic.

Then I felt the burn.

I screamed as my skin sizzled, smoke rising from my burning flesh as I started to incinerate. I writhed in agony, my hold on the roof slipping as I fell to the ground. I hit the gravel hard, my bones cracking as I landed awkwardly. I continued to shriek, holding my arms over my face to try and stop the pain.

I heard people calling my name, but all I could do was scream and scream, until finally the pain burned hot and bright.

The last thing I thought was that I hoped Stiles forgave me. Everything went dark.