A/N: This is honestly one of my favourite songs, you should definitely go listen to it (it was practically written about Stiliet!)


You are, you are the proof

that love is beautiful

You are, you are the truth

something unusual

You are, you are my fire

you're burning like the sun

You are, you are, you are

you are the only one

The Only One – Hot Chelle Rae


I was woken from my slumber by a weight on the other side of my bed. My hand instantly flew to the knife I kept under my pillow, slipping it out and leaping on the intruder, blade pressed to their throat.

"Whoa, Jules?!" Stiles' familiar voice filtered through my brain, and a moment later my hand slackened, the knife hitting the carpet of my room with a dull thud.

"Sorry," I apologised breathlessly, immediately feeling sick at the thought that I could have hurt him.

"It's fine," he said right away, shuffling closer to me on the mattress. "We're all a bit on edge at the moment."

"Understatement of the year," I muttered, rubbing my eyes roughly, trying to snap myself out of it. I opened my eyes again, pausing to press my lips to Stiles' prickly cheek before glancing at the clock hanging on the far wall. "It's midday," I noticed, looking back at him curiously. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"I'm taking a sick day," I shrugged.

"Well if you're not going, then I'm definitely not going," he said simply, sliding down on the bed until his head hit the pillow (his pillow, which he carted between my place and his dad's house, unable to sleep without it).

"You have to go," I tried to argue, but he refused to move, merely shutting his eyes and pretending to doze. "Stiles," I prompted, shoving him gently. "You can't just skip school because your girlfriend didn't show up." He merely faked a loud snore. I could tell he was putting extra effort into being lighthearted, trying to counteract the darkness that seemed to encase all of us at the moment. "Stiles," I said again, shaking him softly.

One of his eyes popped open, swivelling around to peer at me. "I don't think I could handle it right now. Scott's dad was there, asking me all these questions, and I just can't deal with that anymore," he finally admitted to me, eye sliding shut so he didn't have to look at me while he spoke. "Let's just stay here until we hear news. I can't go sit in some pointless class and pretend that nothing's wrong."

I hesitated, but ultimately I knew I had to do what was best for him, which was definitely taking a mental health day, so I relented. "Okay," I told him, laying back down and curling myself around him happily, inhaling his scent. "Sounds good to me; I am recovering from being shot four times, after all."

Everything was silent, then suddenly Stiles shot up, accidentally shoving me off of him. "You're what?" he asked incredulously, staring at me with wide, panicked eyes.

I sighed as I realised he knew nothing that had happened in the vault. I'd been dropped off straight away, and had had a shower before eating an early breakfast and heading to bed, I'd meant to call Stiles and fill him in, but I was too distracted by healing from the attack to think of it.

"Juliet!" he squawked, looking like he was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

Again, I relented, but not before getting my priorities straight. "Would you like some tea?"

He glared at me, wondering how I dared ask such a mundane question.

"I'm going to make some tea," I told him, tone making it clear there was to be no arguments. I slipped from the bed, pulling my favourite silk robe over my sleepwear and moving from the room. After a beat, Stiles followed me.

"Where's the devil's brother?" he asked me as we made our way down the stairs.

"No idea," I responded honestly, thinking back, trying to remember if Kol had said anything about going anywhere. "Probably screwing someone over."

Once in the kitchen, I moved over to the kettle. I'd always heated water up on the stove before recently, when Stiles had commented on my 'archaic' method of making tea, buying me the gift of a flashy new kettle, even going as far as to teach me how to use it in a series of short but serious classes.

I began to speak, telling him what had happened in short, clipped sentences. I didn't want to look at him, too scared I'd see disappointment, or anger, so I kept my eyes on the task at hand.

By the time I was finished, Stiles looked about halfway into that mental breakdown.

A moment later I realised I shouldn't joke, because he began hyperventilating, eyelids fluttering, hands shaking uncontrollably. Eyes wide, I abandoned my task and moved to his side, pressing my palms to his shoulders. "Stiles?" I asked gently, listening as his heart began to beat violently in his chest.

"J-Jules," Stiles stammered, voice shaky as he stared at me in panic. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

I wasn't exactly going to win carer-of-the-year, but I had been to nursing school, and I knew enough about the basics of the human body to have a rough idea of what the best move was.

"You're okay Stiles," I told him in my most soothingly hypnotic tone, hoping it would calm him. "Stiles, love, you need to slow your breathing," I said as he gripped his chest. His knees were shaking fiercely, and I put pressure on his shoulder, carefully bringing him to the ground.

Despite my best efforts to be gentle, he still collapsed roughly on my tiled floor, sucking in air at a too fast pace, beginning to turn red.

"Love," I cooed softly, moving one hand into his hair. "It's okay," I assured him. "You're okay."

"I can't-I can't stop," he stuttered, panicking about how much he was panicking.

"It's alright," I told him, meeting his watery, glassy gaze. A tear slipped over his lid, trickling down his cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb, soothing him in low tones. "Stiles, you're going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

His breathing wouldn't slow, and I was beginning to get concerned by the colour he was turning.

Deciding to try a different tactic, I crawled closer until I was close enough to wrap myself around him like a monkey. He was curled up into a ball in my arms, panting and shaking as he tried to regain control. "Breathe with me, love," I told him, sucking in a long, deep breath of air, then letting it out slowly. My chest pressed against him with each breath, coaxing him to mirror the pattern. I did it again, and again and again and again and again, until finally Stiles' breathing began to match mine.

It was stilted and shaky, but eventually his breathing got back under control. I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp in a way I hoped was soothing. "You're alright, love," I assured him again gently, and though he wasn't hyperventilating anymore, he was still shaking like a leaf. "I'm here."

He began to clutch at me, long deft fingers that I loved so very much clawing at me like he was drowning. I began to hum under my breath, an old song, one I didn't even think I still knew. I had vague memories of my mother singing it to me back when I was a little girl; on stormy nights or days when I had a fever. I had always associated the tune with safety, and it was more instinct than anything else that had me humming it quietly to Stiles on my kitchen floor.

"How are you, love?" I asked him gently after a long time, the song coming to a close.

"Better," he told me, voice barely a whisper.

Trying my best to be humorous, I murmured, "I guess you could use a few more sessions with the guidance councillor."

Stiles let out a breathy laugh and was quiet for a long few moment, before he seemed to freeze under my grip.

Concerned, I pulled back, looking down at him in worry. "Stiles?" I asked cautiously, watching him closely.

"Morrell," was all he said.


In a stroke of characteristic genius, Stiles had figured out where his dad and the other guardians were being held. It was the Nemetong, or in other words, the root cellar from Derek's tragic backstory.

The problem was, absolutely none of us knew how to get there. And on top of that, none of us knew what to do if we did somehow find it. I was partial to the 'run-in-guns-blazing-snap-necks-first-ask-questions-later' method, but my suggestion was vetoed pretty much instantly by a stern and exasperated looking Lydia.

We weren't sure what to do, struggling for direction and wasting time dealing with Agent McDouchebag, when finally someone who actually had some idea about what the fuck was going on showed up.

Deaton was silent as he moved from the parking lot and towards his clinic, just as silent as he'd been for the entire trip downtown.

I glanced to the left, spotting a familiar dark car parked by the entrance. "Allison's here?" I asked, looking curiously at the veterinarian. I caught the scent of dog on the breeze, and cocked my head at the man. "And Isaac?" I questioned, and he didn't answer but for a slight nod of his head. "You got the whole gang together," I murmured, glancing back at Stiles with an arched brow.

Unfortunately my hope that Deaton was at least in-the-know, was quickly squashed.

"So you have no idea where the Nemetong is?" Stiles asked, voice shaky with hopelessness. Lydia twisted her hands in front of her stomach, nervous and unaccustomed to gathering at the veterinary clinic like we were.

"I'm afraid I don't," the good doctor responded, something like remorse in his expression.

Allison sighed, running a finger over a strong eyebrow tiredly, and Isaac huffed, looking vaguely annoyed.

"Well, it has to be on a telluric current, maybe even at the axes of two or where they all intersect," Stiles said, appearing to know more that the ex-emissary, not that I was surprised. "I just know it's where Derek took Paige to die."

"My dad and Gerard were there once, but Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was," Allison added, stepping forwards, pretty face cold and clinical. "And my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now."

"Mine either," Stiles murmured, frowning at the metal tabletop and biting his lip. I refrained from offering comfort, not wanting to show such softness in front of the gathered group.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac asked, arms crossed as he leant back against the bench.

I hadn't really expected anyone to answer, so I was slightly surprised when Deaton spoke up. "There might be a way," he admitted quietly, eyes glazed as he stared off into the distance. "But it's dangerous." He paused, turning away from whatever memory he was seeing that we weren't, and looking directly at us. "We're gonna need Scott."

"How about you tell us exactly what it is, first," I suggested – more like commanded – eyeing the veterinarian with suspicious eyes.

He hesitated, and instantly I knew that I wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "It involves Stiles, Allison and Scott," he began, and I narrowed my eyes at him, not wanting him to beat around the bush. He took a breath, but met my eyes without even a hint of fear. "We need to submerge them in ice water, slow their heartbeats, let them act as sacrifices in place of their guardians." He must have noticed the rage in my eyes. "There is a chance they wouldn't, but if everything goes according to plan, they should wake up."

I wanted to argue, tell him that there was no way in hell he was getting his hands on Stiles and killing him for any length of time. I glanced back at my boyfriend as I opened my mouth, and noticed the expression on his face. His eyes were pleading, and his mouth was set in a stubborn frown that I recognised all too well.

"I'll be here the whole time," I said, making it clear it wasn't up for discussion.

"I wouldn't expect anything different." Deaton paused, seeming to consider something before turning to Stiles. "This is very important, Stiles," he said seriously, taking a step closer to my human. "Have you, at any point in the last 48 hours, ingested Juliet's blood?"

It was kind of a personal question, but I could understand the reasoning behind it. Stiles, however, took a little longer to catch on. "What?" he squeaked, cheeks covered in familiar blotchy red spots as he glanced uncomfortably at the others, who all pretended like they weren't listening to spare him the embarrassment.

"You will be dying tonight, if only for a few seconds – but it will still be enough to trigger the change should you have any of her blood in your system," Deaton explained patiently, and Stiles swallowed thickly, glancing at me worriedly.

"Anything he ingested is long out of his system by now," I said, seeing that Stiles was struggling for words.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes," I bit out, staring back at him cooly, and after only a brief hesitation, he nodded acceptingly.

"Well then, let's begin."

Getting ahold Scott was easier than I had thought it would be. All it took was one phone call from Stiles to arrange a meeting. I wanted to go with them to meet him, but Deaton told me he wanted me to use the time setting up the clinic, preparing the ice baths and checking the medical equipment in case – heaven forbid – it be needed.

Lydia, Allison and Isaac stayed with me, helping me fill the baths with ice and mistletoe. "Are you worried?" Lydia asked me as the other two left the room, fetching the last of the ice bags.

"No," I lied instantly, more out of instinct than anything else.

She didn't argue, even though I had a feeling she knew I was full of shit. We were silent for a moment, both of us focused on our respective tasks. "Did you know?" she questioned softly after a minute, not looking up from where she was scattering mistletoe into the icy water.

"Know what?" I responded, tone kept carefully bored, revealing absolutely nothing.

"Did you know that I was a banshee?"

I paused where I was lifting another bag of ice, waiting only a moment before tipping it into the bath. The loud noise gave me an excuse not to talk, but she saw right through me.

"You just, you didn't seem surprised when I mentioned it to Stiles," she said, moving to the next bath, keeping her eyes on her task.

Deciding it was cruel to lie, I nodded my head. "I had a suspicion," I admitted through clenched teeth.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, voice surprisingly lacking the anger I expected.

I shrugged, even though she probably wasn't watching. "I didn't want to go around telling people my theory. You already hate me enough, I figured starting a rumour that you were a banshee probably wouldn't win me any brownie points."

She was silent for a long time. "I don't hate you," she said, sounding perplexed. "You hate me."

I sighed, finally turning away from my work to look up at her, only to see she was already staring at me. "I don't hate you, Lydia," I told her honestly. "I'm not saying it isn't my fault that we don't get along, because it is, and I know that." I rubbed my temples, wishing I could go home and burrow under my blankets by the fire while I listened to smooth jazz and sipped a Bloody Mary – emphasis on the bloody. "I don't work well with others."

"You work well with Stiles, and Scott, and Allison – to some degree," she contended, perfect brows furrowing. "Why not me? You never even gave me a chance."

I sighed again, wishing I wasn't having this conversation. "I don't know," I lied once more, turning away and leaning down to pick up another bag.

"I think you do know," she argued, and I couldn't fault her for it – she was right. "Why won't you tell me?" I stayed silent, not in the mood for a heart-to-heart. "Well? Do you think I'm mean? Am I too much of a bitch? - because let me tell you something, you're not much of a saint yourself-"

"Holy fuck, just shut up!" I snapped, whirling around to glare at her angrily. "I was threatened by you, okay?"

She blinked at me confusedly, and I sucked in a sharp breath, pressing my thumb to the spot between my eyes as I felt a headache coming on. "What?" she asked, voice breathy.

I felt like it would be way worse if I didn't explain myself, so I began talking again. "At first it was because I thought you were just another ditsy high school girl whose main concern was dating the quarterback-"

"There is no quarterback in lacrosse," she interrupted me, but I refrained from getting angry. I knew she was just struggling to understand what I was telling her, trying to regain control of the situation. I should know, it was the tactic that had gotten me through the better half of the last two centuries. "Sorry," she apologised uncomfortably, wincing at herself.

"Then, after a while, I realised you were a lot more than that, but I couldn't just change my mind about you."

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "It's a matter of principle. My vampire pride wouldn't let me." I hesitated, but decided: in for a penny, in for a pound. "Then, I found a new reason to hate you." She looked even more confused, like all I was doing was giving her more questions. "Stiles was enamoured with you, and it wasn't like I could compete."

She looked downright shocked, trying to understand what I was saying. "Are you kidding?" she asked, tone shrill. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? Your hair is always perfect, it defies the laws of nature!"

My lips twitched up in amusement but I still waved away her words with my hand. "That's a vampiric quality. I'm like a venus-fly trap, pretty only to draw in prey." I breathed deeply, meeting her eyes and tilting my head. "But my heart doesn't beat, and I don't grow old. I can't change or evolve, I'm stuck as an nineteen year old for all of eternity, and I have to drink blood to stay alive. Not very attractive qualities, wouldn't you agree? Not to mention that, like you, I can be a massive bitch."

She was silent, processing what I'd said. I continued to watch her, observing the cogs turning in her head. "Stiles loves you," she finally told me, and I smiled at the words and the sincerity with which she said them. "You have no reason to feel threatened."

"Yeah," I nodded affirmatively, a small, genuine smile on my lips. "I know."

We both went back to our tasks, and I noticed Isaac and Allison hadn't returned. I assumed they'd overheard us conversing and given us space, which was thoughtful of them. "Can I ask you something else?" Lydia asked suddenly as I absently wiped down a bench, needing the busy work to keep my mind occupied.

"Why not?" I replied only slightly sarcastically.

She wasn't deterred. "Stiles was telling me...something about a...'humanity switch'?"

I froze, not having expected that question. "What about it?" I asked, forcing my arms to move again as I went about my task.

"It just got me thinking, what would happen, should you turn it off?" she questioned softly, like she was sure I was going to hit her for asking. "What would you do?"

I shrugged, jaw clicking as I ground my teeth together. "Hard to say," I answered her flatly.

"Could you still feel things? Like...love and...compassion?"

It was a fair enough question, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss it. Still, the last thing I wanted to do was destroy the newfound peace we'd achieved, so I swallowed my annoyance and responded politely. "In a way. I suppose it's still there – buried. Other things just take precedence. Hunger, lust, pride."

"It sounds terrible," she murmured honestly, and my lips twitched in grim amusement.

"It's not all bad," I told her. "For the person going through it, it's actually a lot of...fun." I paused. "But for the people around us? It's hell."

She didn't reply for a few moments, then cleared her throat. "I really hope you don't ever flick that switch," she told me sincerely.

It would mean that every fragile relationship I'd spent so long forming in this God-forsaken town would crumble to dust, shattering under the weight of my actions – who knew what they would be.

I shuddered at the mere thought, but covered the action with a click of my tongue. "Don't we all?"

Finally Allison and Isaac returned, and I was glad to have them back, meaning my heart-to-heart with the banshee was over with. Stiles, Scott and Deaton reappeared some minutes later, the wolf looking almost ashamed as he met my eyes, but we both said nothing.

Stiles moved to my side, and I leant into him the moment his skin touched mine. We didn't speak, just enjoyed being in each other's company once more. Being with Stiles was the easiest thing I'd ever experienced. His scent, his voice and his laugh; it was like coming home.

"Alright," Deaton began once everyone was gathered, getting straight down to business. "What did you bring?"

The doctor had instructed them to bring an item that connected them to their stolen guardian.

"Um, I got my dad's badge," my human boyfriend murmured, holding up the dented star of metal. "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand...I tired hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't need to look good if it has meaning," Deaton told him, tone stern but clearly trying to be comforting. I reached out, gently curling my fingers around his. He squeezed back, heart missing a beat in his chest.

We were quiet as we waited for the next person to speak up. "Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac, surprisingly, was the one to speak, glancing at what Allison held in her hand.

"My dad made it; it's kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code." It was new information for me – I wasn't in the habit of reading up on the traditions of hunters.

"Scott?" Deaton prompted.

"My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital," he told us, opening his curled fist to reveal a sleek gold watch in his palm. "She used to say that it was the only thing in her marriage that ever worked."

"Okay, the three of you will get in and each of us will hold you down until you're essentially...well...dead." He paused, watching each of us closely. I stopped myself from stiffening at the mental image of Stiles, no life in him. "But it's not just someone to hold you under, it needs to be someone who can pull you back. Someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."

I immediately shifted closer to Stiles, and the hand that wasn't holding his father's badge found mine but instead locked with mine, squeezed tightly, no words needed.

"Lydia," Deaton said suddenly, eyeing us with sharp, intelligent eyes. "You'll go with Stiles."

"What?" Stiles argued instantly, looking up at Deaton with shock as his heart stuttered in his chest. I wanted to argue, snarl at the doctor in anger, but he shot me a look laced with heavy meaning, and I knew it wasn't a matter to argue over; it was Stiles' life at stake. "If anyone can pull me back, it's gonna be Jules," he told the doctor, voice thick with conviction.

"It's okay Stiles," I said soothingly, understanding instantly what the man meant.

"What? No."

"Stiles," I calmed him, squeezing his hand tightly as I looked up at him sadly. "What he means is, a vampire can't do this for you."

"Why not?" he asked, stubborn as always.

"Because the dead can't pull you back from the dead," Deaton said bluntly, though not unkindly. "It has to be someone with both feet in the land of the living, not someone with one in the land of the dead."

Stiles looked like he still wanted to argue, but I nudged him gently, shaking my head. He pressed his lips together unhappily. "Are you sure? I mean Scott and I both have to go under..." Allison said, surprising me as she was the one to speak up, looking around the group with wide eyes.

"It's okay," Scott told her soothingly, a small, pained smile on his puppy-dog face.

"I'll let you all get ready," Deaton continued once he was sure we were all on the same page. I knew he meant 'say goodbye, just in case' but just didn't want to say it.

Scott wandered closer to the doctor, murmuring to him in soft tones that I didn't care to listen in on, Allison and Lydia began to talk between themselves, with Isaac hovering close by, but I had a more important person to focus on.

I turned to Stiles, unable to conceal the worry clearly spread across my face. He said nothing, eyes watery as he stared down at me. I forced a smile onto my lips, much like Scott had done. I took his lapels in my hands, barely registering the noises behind us as each person began to strip, going down to just their underclothes.

I pushed the flannel from his shoulders, peeling it off of him and then gently folding it up, laying it out of the way on a bench to the side. He robotically toed off his shoes, then bent down to peel off his socks, shoving them in his converse and putting them under the bench.

Once he was prepared, I reached up and took his face in my hands, meeting his chocolate eyes dead on. "You're going to be okay," I told him, not sure who I was trying to convince: him or me.

"Maybe..." he hesitated, licking his lips and swallowing nervously. "Maybe I should drink some of your blood."

I started, glancing up at him in pure surprise. "What?" I asked, eyes wide with shock.

"It eliminates the chance that I won't come back."

"It eliminates the chance that you won't come back human," I hissed back, keeping my tone low and hoping none of the wolves were listening in. Seeing the distraught look on his face, I pulled back, sighing as I ran and hand through my raven hair. "Do you want to wake up as a vampire right now?" He looked torn, and I felt a twinge of pain. "I mean, ignoring the looming threat of actual, real death, if it was any other day, are you really ready for that now?"

He breathed out sharply through his nose, closing his eyes as he spoke. "No," he said honestly, and I nodded even though he couldn't see.

"Then I'm not going to do it," I replied, taking the decision out of his hands.

His eyes snapped open, only to glare at me in something like betrayal. "You'd rather I die?"

Refusing to allow him to take his anxiety out on me, I took his chin in my hand and forced him to meet my eyes. "I'd rather you didn't spend the next century resenting me for changing you before you were ready," I responded calmly, pain in my eyes at the mere thought, and immediately all the fight drained from him.

He sagged, breath leaving his lips in a huff as he dropped his forehead to mine hard enough that it made a loud sound, but neither of us were affected.

"Sorry," he apologised under his breath, and I smiled, though the expression was hollow.

"I'll be right here," I told him, reaching up to loop my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to me and burying my face in his neck, an action we'd done a thousand times before, yet somehow felt entirely new.

I breathed in his scent, enjoying the feeling of his warm neck against my cold skin. A terrible thought hit me, one I instantly wanted to shove away. The worst part was that I knew it was more than just a thought. It was an instinct.

Nothing was ever going to be the same after they did this.

"I hate to break this up, but we're on a bit of a clock," Deaton's deep voice broke through the terrified haze that had filled me, and with a press of my lips to his neck, I reluctantly pulled away from my human.

I forced a calm smile onto my lips, looking up at him with as light of an expression as I could manage, running my hands through his hair.

I wished it didn't feel like I was saying goodbye.

"It's important to remember not to interfere in any way," Deaton told me quietly as each of my friends lined themselves up along the row of ice baths I'd prepared. "There's no telling what your mere touch would do to any one of them."

"Understood," I nodded stoically, but he didn't seem offended by my iciness.

"By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should know something," Stiles said suddenly, half submerged in the freezing water. I stayed where I was, eyes flickering over each of them as I clenched my fists hard enough that my bones cracked under the pressure. "Your dad's in town."

Scott seemed floored by the knowledge, but didn't have time to process it.

Stiles looked up and met my eyes. I had the irritating urge to mouth some heartfelt words to him, or place a hand over my heart, but ultimately, I couldn't be so ridiculous. I merely inclined my head, gazing into his caramel eyes with a worry I couldn't hide.

He nodded back, saying everything he needed to with just his eyes.

Then he was under the water, and I felt instantly and inexplicably, alone.


I wasn't happy, and you didn't need to be a mind reader to know it (mostly because I was extremely vocal about this fact).

"It's been thirteen fucking hours," I hissed at Deaton furiously, the aging man merely staring back blankly, the picture of perfect calmness. "You said it would be minutes."

"I can't control how long the process takes," he countered cooly, hands held out to placate me.

"What can you control, you glorified veterinarian?" I spat, seething in my panic, terrified something had gone wrong. Deaton said nothing, continuing to watch me with an infuriatingly serene look on his face. "The full moon rises in seven hours," I reminded him, as though he needed reminding. "What if they're stuck in this bullshit ice-coma for longer than that?"

"You need to calm down," he finally spoke, watching me with dark, intelligent eyes.

"Jules, it'll take as long as it takes," Lydia spoke up, only to press her lips shut tightly when I whirled around to glare at her.

I snarled, fingers twitching with the need to punch something. With a grunt I spun around, snatching my jacket from where it hung off the back of a chair and shoving my arms violently through the sleeves. "Where are you going?" Isaac asked from where he sat in the corner, head tilted back against the wall.

"Out," I snapped, not in the mood. "Is that a problem?" I added sarcastically, glaring over at the wolf, daring him to say yes.

"You're not going to wait for them to wake up?" It was Lydia who spoke this time, staring over at me with wide, expressive eyes.

"We have mere hours until the moon rises and their guardians are dead," I pointed out harshly. "Sitting here isn't going to help anything."

"So what're you going to do?" Isaac questioned, doubt spread across his face.

I hesitated, "I have no idea. But anything's better than this."

The air was cool as I stepped outside, but as usual it had no affect on me, my core temperature already well below the average human. I walked at a normal pace down the pavement, away from the clinic. My shoes made thumping sounds on the ground as I strode down the road without any real purpose.

I knew what my only option was, but that didn't mean I liked it. With great reluctance I changed directions, heading west into the suburbs, instead of deeper downtown.

The lights were on when I arrived home, and I could hear the sounds of things being moved around inside. With a sigh I prepared myself to deal with the Original I'd come to find, not knowing what mood I'd find him in.

"Ah!" he crowed as I slipped inside, turning the corner into my lounge room and letting the door click shut behind me. "Juliet! Took you long enough; I've been waiting for you."

"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing Kol as he flitted around the room, tossing my things out of his way as he clearly searched for something.

"Looking for something," he didn't tell me anything I hadn't already guessed.

"What?"

"None of your concern," he muttered, pausing his task for a moment to look up at me, familiar impish smirk on his lips. "We're going on a trip."

My eyebrows hit my hairline as I stared across the room at him incredulously. "What?" I repeated, eyes narrowing apprehensively. "Where?"

"The 'where' is not of import," he responded distractedly, waving me off as though I were a fly.

"Says you," I argued childishly, then paused, realising there were far more important things to be arguing about. "Listen, we're in trouble. We need your help."

"No can do," he murmured with a very unsympathetic click of his tongue.

"This is important, Kol," I hissed, taking a step closer.

He looked up at me, something like amusement in his dark brown eyes. "Ordinarily I'd be thrilled to assist you and your little...pack," he said the word with disdain. "But you see, the thing is, I'm going to have to call in that favour."

I froze at his words before frowning, annoyance and impatience gripping me. "This isn't the time for games, Kol," I growled, glancing out the window, taking note of exactly where the sun was positioned in the sky.

"Oh, but you know how I love my games," he all but sang, ignoring my irritation. I remained silent, glaring at him in a way that would intimidate him, had he been anyone else. He rolled his eyes, striding across the room until he stood a mere foot from me. "We're going to go on a little trip," he told me, grin on his face. "And we're going to have a hell of a lot of fun."

I sighed, exhausted from trying to talk with him. "Kol-"

"The favour I'm calling in is simple," he said with a shrug and a smirk. "Pull that stick out of your arse for a week, and we can finally call it even."

This time I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll save my friends by myself," I muttered with a displeased grimace, turning away from my old friend.

"You wouldn't be going back on our deal, would you?" he asked, tone pleasant, though clearly masking an edge of warning. I froze where I stood in the doorway, staring unseeingly at the foot of the stairs. "Besides, I could always...make you."

Realisation filled me and I spun back around to face him, my expression pleading. "Don't do it, Kol," I begged him, grinding my teeth so hard that I heard my jaw bone crunch. "Please."

"Don't worry," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to switch off your humanity."

I sagged, overwhelmingly relieved.

"You're going to spend the week with me, and then you're going to do it yourself." And then I made an absolutely fatal mistake. I met his eyes.

The last thing I saw before it all went dark was a familiar wicked smirk spread across his pale lips.


A/N: wicked of me, I know.

On an unrelated note, I just bought and completely devoured a new book. It's called 'November 9' by Colleen Hoover, and it's fantastic. It's full of romance and witty banter, and it'll leave you crying and laughing at the same time (I know that's how I eventually ended up). It's brilliant, just a really great read. Be sure to send me a message if you pick it up, so we can gush about it together.

Another quick question, I'm struggling with the 3B plot a little and I was hoping you guys could clear something up for me. The Nogitsune was suppressed in Stiles for the first half of the season, right? Like, it really was Stiles saying and doing everything, and the Nogitsune only came out when it's obvious it did, right? I hope that made sense, I'd really appreciate the help! Send me a message if you can help me sort it out (I might even let someone beta read the 3B chapters!)

Hey, hope you enjoyed this one by the way, I'll be seeing you all very soon.