A/N: I want to thank 'Hardlight' who read my whole story in a few days and reviewed every other chapter, giving me feedback on the whole thing. I enjoy reading your reviews, and I'm glad you like the story!
Enjoy!
Said you'd always be my white blood
Circulate the right love
Giving me your white blood
I need you right here with me
Said you'd always be my white blood
Elevate my soul above
Giving me your white blood
I need you right here with me
White Blood – Oh Wonder
"We have to be gentle," Scott was whispering as we climbed the stairs to the loft, Stiles looking over his shoulder every few seconds, paranoid we were being followed. His eyes were glassy and vacant; he didn't even have a sarcastic comment in response. "We can't be cruel when we tell him."
"You got it," I mumbled to him distractedly, not really taking in what he was saying. It was because of my inattentiveness that I shoved open the thick but practically weightless door to the loft and strode into the room, shouting, "hey, alpha-of-the-century! As always, your choice in lovers is top notch!"
"Excuse me?" Derek asked dangerously, looking up from the book he'd been immersed in and glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
"You're surprisingly good at discovering our enemies by dating them," I commented offhandedly, reaching into my pocket and pulling a cigarette out, popping it between my teeth and using my other hand to light it.
"What is she talking about?" he asked flatly, turning to Scott and Stiles for answers. His brow furrowed when he took in the shellshocked expression Stiles was wearing and the panicked and worried one of the teen wolf. "What's wrong?" he demanded stonily, staring at the pair apprehensively.
I opened my mouth to fill him in, but Scott shot me a severe look, clearly ordering me to stay silent. Though not usually one to follow orders, I did so out of respect for the boy I considered a somewhat of a leader. "It's Ms Blake – Jennifer," Scott began quietly. I sucked in a lungful of smoke, enjoying the way it singed my throat.
Derek's heart stuttered, but he covered the slip quickly, heartbeat steadying moments later and stern mask falling into place over his face. His steely expression didn't waver as Scott continued to talk, and his heartbeat didn't falter even once.
Not having a heartbeat myself, I couldn't fathom how difficult it must be to control something so internal.
Though, he didn't react so intensely, that by the time the words had stopped pouring from Scott's lips, he was merely staring at the other wolf blankly, an indescribable expression on his face.
I felt sympathy for the alpha, more than I usually did, showing me exactly how much I'd grown since I'd moved to this town. I felt a deep sadness for Stiles; the only person on earth who could evoke such strong emotions from me. He'd lost his dad, the most important person in his life; the only family he had left.
I swore to myself that I would do absolutely everything in my power to bring him back. And if I put my mind to it, the Darach didn't stand a fucking chance.
The sound of heels clicking on the concrete stairs echoed around the room, audible to all but Stiles, who was uncharacteristically silent. "Boys," I murmured softly, grasping them gently but firmly by the shoulders. Getting the hint, they allowed me to push them from where they stood, gently guiding them around the corner, out of sight.
Once the boys were hidden, I glanced back at Derek, silently offering my assistance with nothing but a glance. He shook his head immediately, eerily blank expression turned towards the doors, preparing for the confrontation.
"Derek?" the Darach's saccharine voice floated through the loft, and I pressed myself back against the wall, staying out of sight. "Derek, where are you?!" she continued, sounding desperate and innocent – though we knew she was anything but.
"I'm here," the alpha made his presence known, standing in the centre of the room with his arms folded behind his back.
"Oh, thank God," the Darach breathed in false relief, and I heard her heels click against the floor as she darted to her lover's side, throwing herself into his arms and clinging to him like she was seeking comfort and hadn't done anything wrong. "Something happened at the recital, at the school, and I need to tell you before you hear it – any of it – from them."
"Who?"
"Scott; Stiles; Juliet," she listed breathlessly, fully playing the part, only slightly impressing me with her dedication. "They're going to tell you things; things you can't believe." I snorted, but the sound was quiet enough that it went unheard. "You have to trust me, okay?"
"What is it?"
"Promise you'll listen to me?"
"Promise."
The sound of halfhearted kissing filled the loft, and I grimaced at the thought of kissing that bloody werewolf. Stiles sucked in a breath from beside me, the air shuddering from his lips. My hand moved of it's own accord, fingers curling around Stiles' shaking hand. As soon as our skin touched he gripped my hand like it was the only thing holding him to the earth. I clutched back, attention only half on what was happening in the middle of the loft, my mind much more focused on a barely coping Stiles.
"They're already here, aren't they?"
I knew my attention couldn't be divided any more, we couldn't afford it. I brought Stiles' hand up to my lips quickly, pressing my lips to the cold skin of his palm before letting go, my focus now solely on the evil druid in the room, knowing I might have to protect the boys at a moment's notice.
I stepped around the corner, arms crossed over my chest and my most lethal glare fixed onto my sharp features, a silent warning not to fuck with us.
"So they told you it was me?" she asked, glancing over her shoulders, cold eyes narrowing at me as she clearly saw the unspoken threat. "That I'm the one taking people?"
"That you're the one killing people," Scott cut her off, a rare sneer on his boyish face.
"Oh, that's right," she said, voice layered with forced sarcasm. "Committing human sacrifices? Cutting their throats? I probably do it on my lunch hour, that way I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day," she laughed, but the sound was weak at best. "That makes perfect sense."
I didn't say anything, continuing to glare darkly. "Where's my dad?" Stiles spoke up, voice shaky as he tried not to let too much emotion show.
"How should I know?" she asked, staring at him imploringly before turning back to her werewolf boyfriend. "Derek, tell me you don't believe this," she begged, and though I couldn't see her face, I knew it would look irritatingly innocent.
Derek's forest green eyes looked up at us, trailing over each of our faces, taking in Scott's serious frown, Stiles' teary eyes and my grievous glare. "Do you know what happened to Stiles' father?" he demanded tensely, and I was almost surprised he seemed to believe us. If it came down to Derek or Stiles for me, I would always, without a doubt, trust Stiles. I could only hope Derek wouldn't do the same.
"No," the teacher insisted beseechingly.
"Ask her why she almost killed Lydia," Scott added sombrely.
"Lydia Martin? I don't know anything about that!" she said, eyes darting around, clearly looking for an escape route. Her gaze zeroed in on me, and I internally sighed, knowing what was about to come. "Why don't you ask the murderous vampire who's had it in for Lydia Martin since day one?"
I didn't say anything, just rolling my eyes at her desperate attempt to get the focus off of herself. "Why am I always the scapegoat?" I asked myself more than anyone else, genuinely curious.
"What do you know?" Derek interrupted, expression severe.
"I know that these children, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story." I wanted to snap that I was the furthest thing from a child, but figured it just wasn't the time to be petty. "And one they can't prove by the way," she continued, sending us a dark and almost smug look.
My lips twitched up into a smirk, and I dug my hand into the deep pocket of my leather jacket, fishing out a jar and holding it up in the light for show before throwing it to Scott, who plucked it from the air with ease. "What if we can?" he asked knowingly.
"...what is that?" she asked hesitantly, brow furrowing in worry.
"My boss told me it's a poison and a cure," Scott told her, tone void of triumph as he gently unscrewed the lid, clutching it in his fist. "Which means you can use it, and it can be used against you."
The Darach froze, eyeing the group of us with contempt. "Mistletoe?" she growled, edging away from us, but Scott gave her no time to escape, angling the jar in her direction and allowing the powder inside to pour from it's glass container, spilling over the woman and exposing her true form.
It wasn't a pretty sight. Her skin was pale and waxy, deep slashes cutting across her face, and her eyes were a clouded blue and sunken into her skull. Her lips were non-existent, just a rim of scabbing, and she had a row of disgusting, blackened teeth hiding a cracked tongue.
Derek couldn't help the stutter his heart gave that time, he took a step back as the teacher appeared as herself once more, gasping for air as she recovered from the attack. I cocked my head, eyeing the glamour she was wearing with a critical eye.
She must have realised she was done for, and that if I wouldn't kill her then Derek most certainly would, so with a grunt she pushed herself forwards, trying to flee to safety.
Derek grabbed her around the throat with ease, yanking her back in front of him and glaring down at her in disgust and betrayal.
"Derek, wait! Wait!" she begged as the wolf's claws slid from his nails, digging into her soft (and false) skin. "You need me."
The alpha wasn't having any of it. "What are you?" he demanded furiously.
"The only person who can save your sister," she gasped out, clawing desperately at his wrist, trying to suck air into her lungs. Derek continued to glare at her, stuck between doubt and hope. "Call Peter!" she pleaded with him, and I wondered why she was letting him hold her. I'd experienced her strength firsthand earlier that night, I knew she was strong enough to land me on my ass in a matter of seconds if she had the element of surprise, yet she allowed Derek to catch her by the throat.
She had ulterior motives, but I didn't have the time nor the patience to worry about it. The priority was Stiles' father, and – though much less important to me – saving Cora.
"Juliet," Derek said darkly, never taking his eyes off the woman before him.
Taking the hint, I stepped forwards, moving to them and wrapping one hand around the Darach's arm and the other winding around her neck, prepared to snap it at a moment's notice. Once he was sure she was restrained, he pulled his cell from his pocket, bringing it up to his ear and calling his uncle.
"Derek," Peter answered the call, and I could hear the sounds of the storm raging in the background, adding to the sound of the rain beating against the loft's large windows.
"How's Cora?" was all the alpha said in response, cutting straight to the point.
"It's not good, she's in and out of consciousness, she's vomiting up black blood along with one other alarming substance."
"Mistletoe."
"How did you know that?" Peter questioned suspiciously.
Derek didn't reply, hanging up the call and slipping his phone back into his pocket. He moved back over to me, rudely knocking my hand out of the way and taking the Darach's neck in his own while I kept hold of her arm, just as extra insurance.
"Derek," Scott said warningly as the wolf's hand began to tighten, squeezing the woman's neck with only a fraction of his possible strength. "Derek! What are you doing?"
"Oh, lay off, teen wolf," I snarled unthinkingly, rolling my head round to peer at him with exasperated eyes. "He's not doing anything she doesn't deserve."
"Juliet," he responded reproachfully, sounding shocked at my tone. Realising how much bite had been in my voice, a hint of remorse filled me, and I winced. Instead of apologising as I should have, I merely turned back to the woman in my grasp, focusing my attention on holding her as she and Derek spoke.
"Her life; it's in my hands," the teacher was gasping desperately.
The alpha growled, lifting her off the ground by her throat, baring his teeth up at her. "Stop Derek, stop," Stiles begged, and instantly all the fight drained from me. This wasn't what Stiles wanted, and I wasn't about to do anything to harm him or his father. I let go, taking a step backwards to make sure I wouldn't accidentally do anything I couldn't take back.
"Stilinski, you'll never find him," she choked in Stiles' direction, and I grit my teeth, hands balling into angry fists.
"Derek," Scott growled, but the alpha didn't seem to hear. "Derek!"
Finally he let go of her throat, and she sank to the floor, wheezing in an attempt to get her breath back. For a long moment she seemed to shake, and I assumed she was in shock or upset, but then she lifted her head, and there was a large, triumphant smirk spread across her stolen face. "That's right, you need me," she grinned victoriously. "All of you."
"Oh, just shut the fuck up," I rolled my eyes as I stepped forwards, using a good chunk of strength to send my boot into her side. She grunted in pain, flying back a few feet and landing hard on the ground. I crouched down beside her, scrunching her hair in my fist and yanking her head up to mine. "Where. Is. The sheriff?" I asked her slowly, making sure there was zero miscommunication.
"One thing at a time, Miss Adams," she sneered, the expression twisted and ugly on her face.
I tore at her hair again and she yelped, unable to stop the pained sound from escaping her lips. "How do you know that name?" I demanded, nails biting into the skin at my palm.
She smirked again, but before she could answer Derek was hauling her to her feet and shoving her in the direction of the door. "We don't have time for this," he barked, leaving the room. "We're going to the hospital to heal Cora, then we'll deal with the rest."
Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, and to be honest, so did I. We both kept our mouths shut, however, when Scott sent us a pleading look. We may not have gone by Derek's orders, but one look from Scott was all it took for us to shut up and knuckle down.
I allowed Scott to sit in the front, instead sliding into the backseat, thankful for the room to breathe, allowing myself to calm down slightly.
"Something's wrong," I broke the tense silence, staring out into the stormy night, spotting a flicker of lightning in the distance. Stiles let out a shuttering breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
"I know," he replied, sniffling uncertainly as he sped up. We were the only cars on the road, the Jeep following close behind Derek's own sleek, modern car.
"What do you mean?" Scott asked worriedly, peering at me worriedly over his shoulder.
"Something just feels wrong about this. We proved it to Derek, but she still had this look, like it was all still going according to plan," Stiles explained in low tones. I shuffled forwards, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind and nuzzling my face into his neck, breathing in his scent to calm my own worries. "You saw it, didn't you?" he asked his best friend, one hand coming up to touch mine, squeezing extra tight, like I was keeping him afloat.
"It's more than that," I murmured into Stiles' skin, knowing the wolf could hear me just fine. "She didn't look concerned when I was attacking her. Like she knew I wouldn't hurt her."
"But you wouldn't have," Scott said surely, like he knew this above all else.
I didn't respond, because I wasn't sure he was even right. Would I have killed her? A year ago, the answer would have been yes. Had I really changed so much that I wouldn't do something as basic as ridding the world of an evil?
Scott was all black and white, while I lived my undead life in shades of grey.
So would I have killed her?
Probably.
Finally Stiles pulled up outside the hospital, parking haphazardly in a disability space. As I slipped from the car, I plucked the bat from the floor of the backseat, stepping out into the rain and handing it to Stiles.
"What's that?" Scott asked confusedly.
"What?" Stiles responded defensively. "You've got claws, she's got fangs and I've got a bat."
We caught up to Derek and the Darach as they strode through the halls, the alpha having a tight grip on the bitch's arm, yanking her after him, leaving no chance to escape. The hospital was crowded, people evacuating the building because of the severe storms. "You want to be useful for once, Juliet?" Derek asked flatly, and I shot him a bitter look as I passed, moving to the front of the group and getting to work shoving a path clear, allowing them to wander through with ease.
There was one small hiccup; Melissa caught us on the way to the elevator, having a hushed discussion with her son in the hall. We had to get Cora on one of the last ambulances out of this hell hole, with a maximum time limit of twenty minutes.
Harder things had been accomplished, I supposed.
I pressed the button for the floor Cora was on, stepping inside and backing up into the corner, crossing my arms and waiting on the others. They filed in one after the other, Stiles first, moving instantly to my side, then Scott and finally Derek, who was holding tightly to the teacher.
"You don't have to keep me on a leash, Derek. I'm going to help," Blake murmured, rolling her eyes exasperatedly at the group of us. We were silent, she glanced at Scott, who was glaring at her stonily; then at Stiles, who was staring at her warily, brandishing his (Melissa's) bat in his hands warningly; and finally me as I parted my lips, letting my fangs slide forwards and baring them at her, a threatening hiss escaping.
She rolled her eyes again, turning back to face the front. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we exited the metal box, stepping out onto the floor and striding instantly down the hallway. The lights flickered, which – if my past was anything to go by – was never a good sign.
I wasn't sure which room was Cora's, but when Derek stopped outside of a particular one, I figured he'd found it. A glance into the room confirmed it, as I saw a pool of black blood splattered on the linoleum floor. "Shit," I muttered, seeing no sign of the sick wolf anywhere in the room.
Before any of us could say anything, the doors at the end of the hall suddenly burst open, a beaten up Peter sliding across the floor, to land right at our feet. "We got a problem," he groaned up at Derek, who was staring down at his uncle in shock. "Big problem."
I followed his gaze, locking eyes with the fucking twins, who were currently joined as one, massive – or as Stiles put it, Voltron – wolf.
"Why can't anything ever be easy?" I murmured out of the corner of my mouth to my shaking boyfriend, who was gripping his stolen bat so tightly that his knuckles were white. From my right Derek shifted, eyes glowing red and claws at the ready. Before any of us could say a word he had taken off, running directly at the wolf and attempting to take it down in a rugby tackle.
The twins barely budged, merely pushed back a few feet, a minor inconvenience to them.
They took Derek down with a series of well-executed blows, and in a matter of seconds our alpha was sprawled across the floor, blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. I glanced to my left, where Scott was standing, now also shifted.
He took off at a run, and with a grunt I allowed my fangs to drop and my eyes to flood with blood. I followed the teen wolf into battle, albeit reluctantly. Scott propelled himself off the wall, dodging the wolves' attack and landing a punch of his own to their gut that went virtually unnoticed.
With a sigh I slid under their spread legs, bringing my knee up and ramming it into their junk. They let go of Scott with a muted groan, turning on me in an instant. I danced out of the way of another attack, flittering around them too fast to be seen. I was faster than them, yes, but this thing had the strength of two fully grown alpha wolves in one body – I didn't have a hope of beating them with strength alone. My punches barely even seemed to affect them, they swatted me away like I was no more than an irritating fly.
I paused, hoping to land another kick to the apex of their legs, but they caught me by the ankle, picking me up and for one blissful moment I felt completely weightless, until I was thrown sideways into the wall. I grunted in pain, feeling my skull crack open and the cement of the wall fracture at the rough contact.
Laying on the ground, I blinked open my eyes, seeing Stiles' familiar Chuck Taylor's as they ran past me, but I didn't have it in me to say anything, merely sliding my eyes shut and waiting for my healing abilities to kick in.
A moment later my broken skin warmed and tingled, and the ache slowly went away. Propping myself up, I shook my head, blinking as I tediously pulled myself to my feet. In the time I was down the alpha twins had disappeared, and so had the Darach.
I was hoping those two problems would just sort of cancel each other out.
Cora had been found laying at the end of the hall, and Peter threw her unconscious body over his shoulder, hightailing it out of there, lest the twins come looking for round two.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" Derek shouted as we pushed our way through surgery theatres and waiting rooms, no real plan and no idea what we were actually doing. I realised too late that Stiles wasn't beside me, spinning back around to glare at him where he stood by the door.
"Stiles," I hissed from the opposite doorway, and the others stopped, turning back to where the boy stood, clearly planning a blitz attack.
The twins barrelled into the room, and Stiles swung the bat.
It was, of course, completely useless. The bat splintered into a thousand pieces, leaving Stiles holding onto nothing but a worthless stub of wood.
I held out my hand and Stiles scurried away, sprinting over to where we were standing and instantly seeking safety behind the line of supernaturals keen on protecting him. I followed after him, figuring that my best bet was to stay by my boyfriend's side and keep him out of trouble.
"Did you see that?" he asked with wide eyes, glancing over his shoulder in sheer disbelief.
"Next time, try aluminium," I murmured to him, grasping his arm and hurrying him along. I found a room with doors that could be easily barricaded, and gently shoved Stiles inside. "Here," I said to Peter, who darted inside the room and instantly put down a still-unconscious Cora.
"Where's the big guy?"
"He's close."
"What about Ms Blake?" Stiles glanced at Scott, who shook his head. "You mean she's gone?" he asked incredulously. "Scott, are you kidding me?!"
"Stiles," I hissed at the human gently, giving him a small, reprimanding shove. He turned to frown at me, heart hammering in his chest. I paid him no mind, head tilted as I listened to the faint sounds of the twins whispering to each other from a few hall away.
"But-" he tried to argue.
"Stiles, shut up!" Derek growled, and Stiles turned to the wolf furiously.
"You're telling me what to do now? When your psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriend – the second one you've dated, by the way – has got my dad somewhere, tied up and waiting to be ritually sacrificed?!" he seethed, staring up at Derek in rage.
"Do you really want to talk about psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriends?" Derek hissed back, pointing his chin at me accusingly.
"You fucking-" before he could finish what I was sure was to be a very colourful sentence, Scott interrupted.
"Stiles, the twins are close," the teen wolf murmured, glancing warily at the doors.
"And they want her, right? Which means now we don't have her either. So my dad and Cora, are both dead!" He was loosing it, and I reached forwards to slip my hand into his, but he ripped away from me like I'd burned him.
I flinched back, crossing my arms and allowing a blank scowl to spread across my features, refusing to let any of these men see my weakness. "Is she really dying?" Scott asked Peter, who was tending to the fallen Cora.
"She's not getting any better," he told the younger wolf sombrely.
"There has to be something that we can do, we have to help her."
I glanced up, hearing the familiar clicking of heels on linoleum. "Someone's coming," I whispered to Derek, who turned to face the door like he was preparing to ride into battle.
"You can't," our (ex) teacher said as she appeared in the doorway, a frown on her face. "Only I can. I can save her and I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is," she declared, a smug look in her usually dead eyes. "There is a pack of alphas in this hospital who want me dead; so I'll help you, but only when I'm out of here and safe. Only then."
Before I'd even had a chance to ponder the offer, there was a loud crash as Derek charged, knocking over a metal table and lunging towards the woman. I reached out instinctively, grasping him by the collar, feeling it tear a little under the strain. Scott did the same, stopping him before he attacked her, knowing, just as I did, that it was the best bet to save Stiles' father.
"She was trying to get out!" Derek shouted, pointing at her accusingly.
"I was trying to keep from getting killed, you can't blame me for that!" she argued.
"If you wanna show that you're one of the good guys, then heal her," Stiles spoke up, gesturing to the unconscious Cora.
"Not until I'm safe," she shrugged carelessly.
"I'd like to volunteer a different method of persuasion, let's torture her," Peter spoke up, igniting a flame of interest in me. Everyone was silent. "I hate to point out the obvious, but we do have someone on our side who's torture methods are known to be quite convincing," he said, and I lifted my head, a wide, proud smirk on my lips.
Was I actually being given permission to torture? Christmas had come early.
It'd been so long since I'd been drenched in blood, I couldn't wait.
"No," Stiles spoke up, but I didn't even bother to glance over at him, too focused on my new play thing.
"Could you?" Peter asked me, paying the human no mind either.
"Of course I could," I smirked, bringing my fists up to crack my knuckles preparedly. "I was trained by the Original. I'll have her singing like a bird in but a minute."
"Jules, you can't-" Scott tried to say, only to be stopped by a voice over the speaker, making everybody freeze as we stared up at the roof like it held the answers.
"Excuse me, could I have your attention? Mr Deucalion...e-excuse me, just Deucalion, requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the ER reception. Do this, and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes."
All of us were silent, none more than Scott, who looked paralysed with shock. I felt a shiver of dread. Melissa was the last person I wanted caught up in this mess, and despite my best efforts, she was smack in the middle of it anyway.
"He's not gonna hurt her," Blake said like she was telling us this week's lottery numbers.
"Shut up," Derek barked.
"He won't," she insisted. "Scott, you know why. Tell them it's true."
"What does she mean?" the alpha asked dangerously, just daring Scott to betray him.
"You're not the only one he wants in his pack," she cut in, seeing the teen wolf wasn't going to speak up. "Deucalion doesn't just want an alpha pack, he wants perfection. That means adding the rarest of alphas to his ranks."
I knew she couldn't have been saying what I thought she was saying. They were rare, so rare that one couldn't possibly be in the same town as me, let alone be one of my closest friends.
"A true alpha," Peter murmured from beside Cora, and I grit my teeth, trying not to let the awe be seen in my expression as I stared at Scott in bewilderment.
Stiles' heart stuttered in fear, not knowing what was happening. "What's that?" he asked tightly.
"A kind that doesn't have to steal his power from another, one that can rise by the force of his own will," the oldest Hale said. "Our little Scott."
"It doesn't matter," the true alpha said dismissively. I couldn't stop my eyes from flickering down his form. If he was a true alpha, his power was bigger than he knew. He turned back to the Darach, heart hammering in his chest. "We still need to get her out of here," he told the group, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was eyeing the teacher with irritation.
I couldn't blame him, I myself was experiencing a feeling of intense contempt towards the bitch.
"Scott, your mom!" Stiles spoke up worriedly.
"My mom said there's one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes and I don't think we've been here that long, so if we can get down to the garage and get to the last ambulance, we can get out of here," the teen wolf told us, and I saw the beginnings of a plan start to come together.
"As great of a plan as that is, little wolf, you're forgetting one important detail," I said to Scott, arms crossed over my chest as I glanced at the doors, sweeping the shadows for any hint of our most immanent threat. "I have a feeling the twins aren't going to offer to escort us down to the basement; quite the opposite, in fact."
"I'll distract them," Scott volunteered instantly, and in the glow of the emergency lighting I could see beads of sweat trickling down his temples.
"You mean fight them," Derek corrected, voice predictably deadpan.
"Whatever I have to do."
"I'll help you."
"Um, sorry," - for the record, the Darach didn't sound sorry at all - "but I'm not going anywhere without you, Derek."
Derek looked like he wanted to strangle her, but I cut in before anyone did anything rash. "It's okay," I said, stepping forwards despite the small sound of protest my human boyfriend made. "He'll have me."
"Because you're the group's best fighter," Peter mumbled sarcastically. I shot him a deadly look, and he seemed to sober for a moment before turning back to Scott. "I guess I'm in too," he said, sounding very much like it was the last thing he thought he'd be offering when he woke up this morning. "But I'd prefer to be out there with an advantage."
"An advantage, like what?" Stiles, who had been uncharacteristically silent, asked. "You mean like a weapon?"
"Something better than a baseball bat."
"This is a bad idea," Stiles murmured breathlessly, glancing at Peter warily, who was holding a needle precariously over his own chest.
"It'll wear off," I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
"Not that," he hissed, though not unkindly. I could tell he was just anxious, and it made me want to build a blanket fort to hide him in while we ate his favourite food – curly fries – and watched his favourite movie – Back to the Future. But alas, we were in the middle of a hospital, our safe escape blocked by a pair of psychotic alpha twins and an evil Darach demanding every bit of our attention. "You shouldn't go out there," he continued, bringing me back to the moment.
"It isn't a full moon," I told him reassuringly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, hoping to bring him some sort of comfort.
"I just-" he began, but cut himself off with a pained choking noise. I raised an eyebrow, slightly alarmed by his behaviour. He shuffled closer, leaning his head into mine, trying to pretend everyone else in the room couldn't hear what he was saying anyway. "I just lost my dad. I can't lose you too."
My hard exterior melted, and I stared back at him with knowing, sad eyes. I slipped even closer, so that our chests were pressed against each other, and I wound my arms around his neck, leaning up on my toes to whisper into his ear. "I'm doing this, so you can find him." I pulled back, meeting his chocolate eyes, "don't worry about me, I can handle the twins, plus I'll have Creepy Uncle and Teen Wolf to cover me. I'll be back by your side before you even know I'm gone."
"Who're you calling creepy, you undead, gothic, cradle-robbing savage?" Peter called from across the room, only to hiss in pain a moment later when he finally jammed the needle into his own chest.
"Okay," Stiles said acceptingly, completely ignoring the oldest Hale and focusing his attention back on me. "But on one condition."
"Name it."
He brought his hand up, pushing back his sleeve and offering me his wrist. "Drink."
I hesitated. Blood sharing in this way was usually a private affair, not something I wanted any occupant of the room to ever witness.
"It'll make you stronger," he continued when he noticed my collected expression falter. He stared at me pleadingly, which was completely unfair, considering how he knew I loathed those damn puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Juliet."
I glared at him, but the look held no real anger or malice. I sighed, rolling my eyes but taking his hand in my own and tilting his wrist up to my face. As I met his eyes, my own filled with blood, but he didn't stare back in horror, instead a rare serious expression on his face as he watched me.
My fangs descended and with a huff I slid them into his inner wrist, my teeth slicing through the delicate skin like it was melted butter.
I drank deeply, feasting on the blood like I hadn't fed for weeks, a euphoric feeling filling me as the liquid trickled over my tongue.
"Ugh," Peter's familiar voice echoed through the now silent room as I drank. "Must you do that here?"
Finally, once I knew I had taken more than enough, I pulled back, only to look up and hiss at Peter, bloody fangs and all.
"Well that's just rude," he snarked, then gasped as the drug hit his system. "Oh wow," he murmured, and even standing where I was, I could see his pupils were completely blown.
I turned to Stiles as I bit into my own wrist, offering it up to him quickly. "No," he shook his head, and I frowned confusedly. "It's dangerous here, I don't want to risk..." he trailed off, but I knew what he was trying to say.
I felt the bite mark I had made begin to close up, and I glanced up as Scott cleared his throat. "We have to do this now," he prompted us, and I pushed myself up quickly to press my lips to Stiles' cheek.
The kiss smeared blood onto his skin, and I brushed it away with my thumb, sending him one final grin that was filled with false confidence before turning to Scott and Peter, cracking my knuckles eagerly. "Been a while since I've had a fight to the death."
"It's not to the death," Scott muttered exasperatedly as we faced the double doors, sounding very much like he longed to roll his eyes.
I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders in preparation. "We'll see."
The hall stank of wolf, and I glanced to the end of the long corridor to see the twins standing in the shadows. "Alright boys," Peter said restlessly, eyes glowing blue. "Let's rumble."
The fight went better than I thought it would. None of us died, which was always a plus. I did get a blow to the face that was particularly nasty, smashing my entire cheekbone. I grunted in pain, thrown back against the wall as I blinked – even that small action causing severe pain – trying to recover.
Luckily, we didn't have to beat them – we only had to distract them. As soon as I knew Stiles and the others were clear, my first priority was to get Scott out of there, and even though my entire face felt like it was on fire, I was able to sidestep another attack, grasping Scott by the arm and yanking him away from the twins.
"But-" he tried to argue, but I was having none of it.
"Run," I hissed at him, shoving him none-too-gently in the direction of the door, reaching down to scoop Peter up from where he was all but melted into a puddle on the floor, the severe adrenaline rush leaving him as quickly as it had come. "Dammit, you irritating son of a bitch," I growled in his ear as I tugged him to his feet.
The knowledge that I could leave him there to die hung tightly to the back of my mind, but I couldn't force myself to do it. I didn't want him to die. Did he deserve it? Probably. But I sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to pull the plug.
Which led to me throwing him over my shoulders with but a small huff of exertion, taking off down the hall after Scott before the combined twins knew where we'd gone.
"Jules," Scott hissed to get my attention as I continued to carry Peter down the hallway. I immediately slid into the supply room the teen was in, shoving the wolf off my shoulder once the door was shut and dropping him apathetically to the hard floor.
He'd woken up somewhat during the journey, staring up at me dazedly as he regained his ability to think clearly. "Whoa, what happened to your face?" he asked the moment he could find the words, staring at me like I was speaking Dutch.
"I got punched in the face by two alpha werewolves combined into one giant alpha werewolf," I spat at him, reaching up to prod at my cheek, wincing as it sent a sharp, intense pain through me.
If it looked as bad as it felt...
"Those twins are really starting to piss me off," Peter grunted, grasping the edge of a desk and using it to pull himself to his feet. I was glad he could walk again, because there was no way in hell I was carrying him to safety.
"How the hell are we supposed to get passed them?" Scott asked in a hushed whisper.
"Personally I think that if we just let them continue beating the living crap out of us, they'll tire and give up," Peter said offhandedly as he huffed, pissing me off considering he hadn't even fucking walked here.
Scott looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped before he did, focused on something behind me. Concerned, I glanced over my shoulder, trying to see what he was looking at before finally I caught notice of the laundry chute sitting on the far wall.
I turned to back Scott with surprised eyes. "Smarter than he looks, folks," I murmured with a halfhearted smirk (because it hurt to move my mouth), but he paid me no mind, slipping passed me and moving towards the chute.
"Ready?" he whispered, pulling open the metal barrier and indicating for me to go first.
"Why do I have to go first?" I asked, affronted.
"Because you're the least breakable," Scott responded like it was obvious.
I narrowed my eyes at my friend, gesturing pointedly to my broken cheek. "Do you see my face right now?" I asked sardonically.
"Would you just jump down the hole already?" Peter snapped from behind me, and I lifted my foot, tilting it to the side then stomping it onto the werewolf's foot, making him grunt in pain as I heard a toe or two break.
I hummed, pleased with the results before I moved forward, grabbing the top of the chute and lifting myself up. "Wait ten seconds, then follow me," I instructed them before nodding at Scott and letting myself drop.
It was like a water slide, except there was no water and my face was in agony and the possibility of death was waiting at the other end.
Thankfully the ride didn't end with death, but instead I found myself with a face full of dirty laundry, most of it smelling of vomit. With a scowl I grasped the edges of the clothes bin, pulling myself over it and onto the floor just as Peter dropped into the spot I'd just vacated, Scott following only seconds after, landing right on top of the older wolf.
"You couldn't have waited like, ten seconds?" Peter asked sourly, but Scott paid him no mind as his phone vibrated in his hand.
"Is that Stiles?" I asked instantly, reaching into the bin and grasping Scott's forearm, tugging him over the edge until his feet hit the concrete floor with a muted thump.
"They didn't get out, did they?" Peter questioned when he didn't answer.
"It's Derek," he finally told us. Peter held out a hand for my help out of the bin, but I pointedly ignored it, turning my back and focusing my attention onto Scott. "They're stuck."
"Tell him we're on our way," I said instantly, and he nodded his head, tapping away at his phone as he followed me through the halls.
"Children?" Peter said as he dropped unsteadily to the ground.
I rolled my eyes barely glancing over my shoulder. "I'm older than you, you self-righteous douche-bag," I murmured, but I frowned when there was no snarky reply. Suddenly there was a crack and Scott was doubling back, staring at Peter in alarm where he'd dropped to the ground, unconscious.
He hesitated only a moment before sighing, reaching down and heaving the dead-weight to his feet. "We need to get him to safety," the teen wolf told me quietly, wrapping an arm around the barely conscious werewolf to support him.
"Safety?" I repeated dubiously, raising incredulous eyebrows.
"Well, as close to it as we can get," he amended with a sigh. "Can you get the door?"
I rushed ahead of the pair, pushing open doors and shoving discarded stretchers out of the way to make room for them. "Where are we heading?" I asked in a hushed tone, ears tuned to every little sound I heard, listening for any sign of approaching danger.
"Basement."
"Surely the last ambulance is gone by now," I said, or at least I hoped, becauseif it was then that meant Stiles was safe, but with our luck, I wouldn't have put money on it.
"It's our best chance."
I didn't have a feeling the night was so much as half over. In fact, we'd probably only just begun.
A/N: Merry Christmas you guys! There's no greater gift for me than just getting the chance to chat with you guys about anything and everything, so don't be afraid to send me a message. I hope you all had the brilliant holidays you deserve! I love you!
