A/N: Huge response to the last chapter, thank you so much! There seems to be a hint of confusion about the end of the last chapter, and just to clear it up for those of you who don't watch the other shows: Original vampires can compel all other vampires. That's what happened at the end of chapter 47. For more answers, you're just going to have to keep reading, huh? :)

I hope you all enjoy this one, it's where everything begins to go downhill *Insert evil laughter here*.


It's hiding in the dark

Its teeth are razor sharp

There's no escape for me

It wants my soul,

It wants my heart

No one can hear me scream

Maybe it's just a dream

Or maybe it's inside of me

Stop this monster!

Monster – Skillet


I woke up in a pool of blood.

This wasn't entirely unusual, only slightly surprising, so I sat up calmly, surveying my immediate surroundings. I was in an alley, again not an uncommon place to find a vampire such as myself. There were lanterns hung up across the top of the bricks.

I hoped I hadn't woken up in China again, the first three times were exhausting enough.

I looked down at myself, glancing over the once-blue-now-dark-red dress that wasn't mine, and the sparkling six inch stilettos my feet were squished into. I pressed a hand to my hair, frowning as I felt the thick knots, covered with dry blood. It was then that I took notice of the scent.

Vampire blood had a scent entirely of it's own. It was old and dusty, usually reeking of death. The blood I was surrounded by? It gave off the familiar delicious and salty aroma of human blood.

I forced myself to my feet as I tried not to throw up, feeling extra tall in my hopefully-borrowed heels. The next thing I noticed was how powerful I felt. I felt warmer than usual, and my skin felt soft and strong, my muscles felt tensed and ready, and I felt a coil of power in my stomach, one I hadn't felt for such a very long time.

Next, I took in the bodies piled to my left. Grief speared in my gut, and my eyes watered with shame. I felt panic rise within me, and I wasn't sure how it was about to manifest, so I shoved it deep down, refusing to focus on the feeling, even though on the inside it felt like everything I had so tirelessly built was slipping out from under me.

But I was no stranger to this sort of situation, so I quickly checked the area for witnesses or surveillance cameras, before clicking my way over to the massacre. I knelt down, gravel digging into my knees as I rummaged through the clothes donning the bodies. There were three in total. Two older men and one young woman. I slipped the wallets from their pockets robotically, barely even registering what I was doing.

I took great care not to look at the names on their identifications, merely snatching them and the money inside before throwing them back onto the pile. The oldest corpse had a lighter in his suit pocket, and I took a minute to light each body on fire, getting rid of the evidence of vampirism.

I had to get out of there quickly. Thankfully it was late at night, I could tell from the smell in the air and the number of people on the street. Judging by the somewhat familiar surroundings – a long street, stretching for what seemed like forever, with bright, glowing lights – I determined I was in Vegas.

I'd woken up in worse places (see: China – it was always a bitch to find my way off of that particular continent), and at least it wasn't that far from home.

The thought of home made me want to throw up again, but I held it down and continued walking. It was late enough that nobody really gave me a second look along the street. I kept my head down, and those of them that weren't blind drunk knew well enough to mind their own Goddamn business.

Stealing clothes was easy enough. I didn't bother using the money I'd scavenged, instead just compelling a bundle of clothes out of a souvenir shop and walking out wearing an 'I heart Vegas' sweatshirt, a pair of ugly men's camo-print swimming trunks and some five dollar flip-flops. I robotically washed the blood off my skin in a public restroom located behind a shady convenience store run by a family of horrorstruck, and no doubt underpaid, workers.

My phone was missing in action, and though I knew Stiles' number by heart, I needed time to figure out what had happened and what to tell him before I spoke to him.

Who knew how long I'd been gone for? Where did he think I'd gone? And most importantly, what had happened with the Darach and Deucalion? Had the kids woken up? Were their guardians safe?

One person I did feel capable of calling was a particular Original vampire whom I could easily say I now loathed with everything I had in me. "Kol!" I hissed into the public phone box sitting outside a questionable looking motel where you paid by the hour. I'd gotten his voicemail, and though I was unsurprised, I was definitely pissed the fuck off. "What the fuck did you do?" I was furious, and the old lady waiting behind me to use the phone looked terrified by my deadly tone, but I was wholly unconcerned. "How could you do this, you shit-brained jackass? What the hell am I supposed to tell my friends?"

My eyes watered strongly, and I shut them before the tears could spill over.

"Whatever," I finally said into the phone after a long minute of nothing but harsh breathing. "I'm done with you. If you come back to Beacon Hills, I'll kill you. The debt is paid. We're even. I'm done."

I hung up, slamming the phone back into place with enough force to crack the plastic of the receiver. Uncaring, I spun around, all but shoving passed the shocked looking old lady and taking off down the street.

The first bus I could catch didn't leave until well after sunrise, so I bought a ticket and curled up in a chair at the back of the station. I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn't shut down – I was still wired from the insane amount of blood I'd consumed.

There was a TV mounted on the far wall, and as a news story splashed across the screen – a fire killing what they assumed to be homeless people in a back alley along the strip; shocker – I caught sight of the date.

September 23rd.

I groaned loudly, the back of my head cracking against the drywall behind me. I shut my eyes, hoping to block everything out, but all it did was make my thoughts louder.

I couldn't remember the last week of my life. This was unsurprising, since Kol was involved, but I was left with a lot of feelings. It was like I couldn't remember any names or faces or details of any kind, yet I could remember the taste of fresh blood as it pooled on my tongue. I could remember human screams as bones snapped under my hands. I could remember people crying, begging me for their life as the scent of their mixed tears and blood filled the room.

I could remember loving it.

With an alarmed gasp, I mentally felt around for that little switch inside myself that I was oh so familiar with. I was immensely relieved when I found it to be firmly switched on, meaning my humanity was intact, at least for the moment.

Time had never moved so slowly, it seemed like an entire day later that I was finally on the bus and slowly but surely heading towards California. I managed to doze for some of the ride, the rocking of the large vehicle lulling me to sleep. I woke up about an hour before we reached the nearest city.

I contemplated taking another bus directly to Beacon Hills, but decided it wasn't that long of a run and that the fresh air would help clear my head.

Less than a half hour later I was jogging through familiar forest. I leapt over logs and ducked low hanging branches, the actions so familiar they were almost muscle-memory. I was heading through a spot only a few short minutes from my house when the ground seemed to drop out from under me.

With a sharp intake of breath I stopped short, preventing myself from falling face first into some kind of crater that I was certain hadn't been there when I'd left.

"What the...?" I trailed off, brow furrowing as I stared at the imploded forest floor. The destruction surrounded the stump of a massive old tree, the roots gnarled and twisted amongst the dirt. The whole clearing crackled with dark magic. I could feel it in the air, in the wind as it blew across my face.

Something had happened here, and it hadn't been anything good.

It had been days ago now, and all the scents were marred by that of animals, so it was useless trying to figure out who had been there. I could only hope none of my friends or their families were hurt. I turned to go around the new hole, only to stop short once more, surprised when my green eyes fell upon a small, glowing firefly.

This shouldn't have been alarming, but something about the way it hovered in front of my face made me wary. Animals of all kinds – insects included – tended to stay as far away from my kind as they could, and even stranger – they usually didn't come out until after sunrise.

Shaking my head, I pulled myself from my ridiculous stupor, turning the other way and slipping from the eerie atmosphere that clung to the clearing like a stench.

As much as I wanted to see Stiles, I figured it was best to get home, have a proper shower and change into clothes that didn't scream 'I just spent the week in Las Vegas'. Stiles however, as usual, took the decision out of my hands. When I broke through the line of trees on the edge of my lawn, I caught the sounds of someone pacing the length of my living room floor.

Wary at first, it only took a moment for me to realise the heartbeat pumping from within was achingly familiar.

The back door was unlocked, and I twisted the handle with little care, pushing my way into my house and making my way through to my human, deliberately making as much sound as I could so he knew someone was coming.

"Hello?" Stiles called cautiously, heart stuttering nervously as he turned to face me. He froze when he met my eyes and the knife in his hand dropped to the floor as he realised who was standing opposite him. "Jules?" he asked, like he could barely believe it was me.

"Stiles?" I responded in kind, equally as perplexed. Why was he pacing my living room with a knife in his hand? What had I missed whilst I was MIA?

"Oh my God," he finally breathed, rushing forwards and slamming into me with as much force as his skinny human body could and wrapping his arms around me and clutching me tightly to him. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, refusing to let go of me for even a second, conspicuously breathing in the scent of my hair. "And why do you reek of smoke and booze?" He didn't give me any time to formulate a reply. "It doesn't even matter, I'm just relieved you're okay." Stiles paused, finally pulling back only to frown at me heavily. "Wait, it does so matter," he argued like I'd been the one to interrupt. "Where the hell were you?" he repeated lividly, hands braced on my shoulders as he stared at me with wide eyes.

I was about to answer when his eyes flickered down my form, taking in the souvenir sweater and the letters plastered across my chest in bright neon letters.

"Vegas?" he hissed dubiously, staring at me in incredulity.

Exhausted, I could only stare back with bleary eyes. A deep sadness twisted in my gut, and I blinked up at him wearily, biting my lip to try and quell the feelings rising within me.

Understanding and fear appeared in his eyes, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at me. "You didn't go willingly, did you?" he asked, though I was sure he already knew.

"I-um," I stammered, forcing myself to take a deep breath and calm down. "I just really want a shower," I told him honestly, struggling to hold his gaze as I averted my eyes to my feet.

"I have to call everyone," he said as we slowly and hesitantly walked to the stairs. "Tell them you're back, call off the search dogs," his lips were tipped up in a smile at his weak joke, but his eyes were hollow. "But I mean, I could do it from the bedroom-"

"No," I spoke too quickly, making him wince at the desperation in my tone. "No," I repeated quieter, forcing myself to meet his honey gaze. "I can handle it. I'll come back down soon."

I turned to leave before he could say anything more, and though his hand snapped out to grasp mine, I easily broke the connection, tugging out of his grip and moving up the stairs at a frustratingly human pace. I could hear Stiles murmuring on the phone as I retrieved a towel, moving into the bathroom and peeling off the tourist outfit I was clothed in.

The water was so hot that it would have given a human burns, but it merely felt lukewarm to my frozen skin. I could still hear Stiles over the running of the water, and I shoved my face into the heavy stream, hoping it would block out the sounds.

The words muted to a dull murmur, and I was able to focus on just scrubbing my skin raw, wishing it was enough to get rid of the stench of death I could still feel clinging to me like a second skin. The door downstairs opened and closed, and though I was irritated by someone else being in the house, I pushed it aside and focused on the feeling of the water beating down on the tense muscles of my back.

I towelled off, slipped into my room and changed into my favourite old t-shirt and sweatpants, before pulling a sweater over my head – that was for comfort rather than warmth – and made my way downstairs where it stank of wet dog.

"Jules," Scott sight in relief as I appeared in the doorway, putting down the glass of water that he'd fetched himself from the fridge. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Sorry," I apologised flatly, gritting my teeth against a slew of unpleasant emotions as they appeared.

"Where were you?"

"Vegas," I admitted, the only answer I did know.

Scott paused, glancing over at Stiles for guidance. My boyfriend stepped forwards, hands held out like he was approaching a baby deer. "What were you doing?"

I looked down at my feet ashamedly. "I don't remember."

Stiles blanched. "You don't remember?"

I sighed, not wanting to admit what I knew to be the truth. "I think Kol compelled me," I admitted reluctantly. "Well, I know he compelled me." I sighed heavily, pressing my fingertips to my temples to ease the oncoming ache.

Stiles looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. "That rat bastard," he seethed, turning around while he battled with his own anger. I wanted to approach, but didn't feel like I deserved to be in the same room as him, let alone touch him. Who knew what had happened on the non-consensual-holiday-from-hell? I had a feeling it went further than just ripping open a few jugulars and causing general mayhem, and the mere thought made me sick to my stomach. Stiles spun back around to face me, uncharacteristic rage on his handsome features. "Where is he now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I shrugged tiredly but honestly. "I woke up in an alley, he was nowhere to be found. Tried calling him, but he didn't answer – not that I'm surprised." I sighed again, allowing myself to drop into the welcoming cushions of my couch and sinking into the foam gladly. "Good riddance, I say," I added with a curl of my lip.

"Is he coming back?" Scott asked warily from where he stood across the room.

"He's not welcome back." I paused, taking the time to look over them both, as though checking for injuries from a fight I knew had to have happened days ago. "What happened here? Did anyone die?" They were silent for a beat, glancing at each other as they prepared to answer me. "Well?" I prompted impatiently when neither said anything.

"Jennifer," Scott finally spoke, eyes glazed over as he was clearly seeing something I couldn't. "She's gone."

"Gone as in dead?" I confirmed. They nodded sombrely. Ignoring the sad cloud that hung over the room, I grinned. "Ding dong," I sang, and Stiles rolled his eyes as I continued, "The witch is dead."

"That's real mature," the human said with a scowl, but I could tell it was forced.

"And your parents?" I asked quickly, thoughts flying to Melissa, John and Chris.

"Safe and sound," he assured me, tone showing his relief.

"Well then-" I cut myself off, suddenly becoming aware of a force in the room, a powerful pull coming from our resident teen wolf. "What's that?" I asked seriously, eyeing the wolf suspiciously. "What did you do?" I demanded, slipping from the couch I was seated on and wandering over to Scott, who shuffled away from me uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" he asked confusedly, glancing down at his t-shirt and jeans combo self-consciously.

I leaned closer to him, pressing my face into his neck and sniffing obviously. "Jules?" Stiles asked awkwardly from behind me, but I paid him zero mind.

I pulled away from the wolf, eyeing him in disbelief. "You're an alpha now?!" I exclaimed, part thrilled and part infuriated. "You don't think you should have led with that little fact?!"

Scott pulled at his collar, looking more uncomfortable by the minute.

I whirled around on Stiles, glaring at him accusingly. "Hey," he cried indignantly, glaring right back. "We're not the ones who disappeared off the face of the Earth for a whole week. We should be questioning you!"

"I told you, Kol compelled me," I grumbled, brow furrowed in irritation. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"Convenient," he murmured, and my eyebrows hit my hairline.

"Excuse me?" I asked dangerously, and he blinked in surprise at himself, frowning confusedly as he looked down at his shoes. "Hey Scott, you wanna make us some tea?" I told the wolf, my gaze fixed on a sheepish looking Stiles.

"Uh – not really," Scott replied honestly, clearly not taking the hint. I slid my eyes across to him, narrowing them in a glower that made it click into place. "Oh!" he said obviously, blinking in surprise himself. He cleared his throat. "Right. Sure." With that he turned and wandered into the kitchen and began preparing tea none of us would drink, extra loudly to make sure we knew he wasn't listening in (though I knew he probably was).

"You okay?" I eventually asked Stiles, eyeing him with concern.

My boyfriend sighed exhaustedly, dropping down into the seat I'd just vacated and holding his head in his hands. Not sure how to proceed, I slowly sat in the space next to him, one of my small hands coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, my thumb rubbing small and hopefully soothing circles on his cotton-covered skin.

"I've just been...on edge lately. Like there's this irritation, this...darkness inside of me," he admitted after a beat. "Deaton said it's just aftereffects of the ritual," he assured me once he noticed my motions freeze. "He said it was normal." I wanted to say something, but had no idea where to even begin. "I was terrified," he said softly, beating me to it. "When I realised you were gone, I thought you were...well...gone."

I understood what he was saying, and shock gripped me. "You thought I'd left you?" I asked disbelievingly. "All of you?"

His lips quirked up in a self-deprecating smirk. "The thought crossed our minds."

Bitterness curdled in my gut. "Oh," I murmured, dropping my hand from his back and inching myself away from him on the couch cushions. My lungs suddenly felt like they were full of glue, and my silent heart felt as though it had turned to lead.

Stiles glanced up, regret splashed across his face. "I didn't – I didn't really believe that," he stammered desperately, shuffling closer to me, refusing to allow the distance I'd put between us. "I just...it was just a thought."

"I understand," I replied mechanically, the hurt still buzzing around wildly deep in my gut.

"No, Jules-"

"Scott!" I called loudly, even though there was no need. The wolf appeared in the doorway, eyeing us cautiously. "I think it's time you told me the story; everything I missed," I said, ignoring the way Stiles was staring at the side of my face imploringly. "From the start, if you would."


We spent most of the day debriefing, them telling me the story as they knew it. I was relieved all of the important people were okay, and content in the knowledge that Derek and his brat of a sister were out of town for the foreseeable future.

Finally Scott had to leave, and though Stiles protested, I made him leave too, telling them both that I desperately needed some time to myself after travelling from Vegas to California on a tiny and terrible smelling bus whose driver only seemed to want to listen to show-tunes and shitty talk-back radio.

"I love you," Stiles had said as I'd all but pushed him out the door.

At least I didn't have to lie in my response. "I love you," I'd told him truthfully before I'd smiled to conceal my inner pain and shut the door firmly after him.

I spent my time at home after that, listening to jazz and staying firmly away from my blood supply, still feeling uncomfortably full from my week in Sin City. I started a fire and curled up next to it, sketching absent-mindedly on blank pieces of paper and only stopping when a particularly good saxophone solo stole my attention.

I knew I had to face the music some time, I couldn't hide from my problem forever, and that was how the next day I found myself standing on the Stilinski's front porch, staring irritatedly at the doorbell that seemed to be mocking me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, steeling myself and pressing the smug little Godforsaken button, stepping back and listening to the sounds coming from inside as the two men headed for the door.

Though I could hear John's heavier footsteps moving towards me, a lighter and quicker pair that I knew belonged to Stiles hit the ground running, overtaking his father and beating him to the door. The slab of wood was tugged open, and Stiles was pressed up against the doorframe in what I assumed was meant to be a casual position.

"Jules," he greeted me uncertainly, pushing the door open wider, a clear invitation.

"Hello, love," I responded gently, slipping off my leather jacket before he had a chance to help, hanging it up on the hook just inside the foyer.

"Juliet," his father was the one to speak next, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing me cautiously. I realised, remembering back to what Stiles had told me the other day, he knew exactly what I was now. He looked uncomfortable, and the expression on his face was like a stake to the gut. "Why don't you come through?" he offered unsurely. "We were just about to have dinner. Theres plenty for everyone."

"That would be lovely, Sheriff," I inclined my head respectfully, also unsure how I should be acting.

Stiles looked just as uncomfortable as the rest of us, thankfully, and led me through the house, towards the kitchen where his dad was already putting out another set of cutlery for me. I slipped into the spare seat at their small dinner table, taking the glass of water John was offering me with a grateful smile.

We ate in silence for a solid five minutes before John finally broke it. "Do you even eat human food?"

I looked up in surprise, as Stiles hissed, "Dad!"

"Yes," I answered him with blinking, scooping up another forkful of mash potato and eating it to prove the point.

"But you don't need it to survive," he continued, seeming desperate for answers.

"No."

"You need human blood to survive."

"Yes."

He paused, taking a sip of his beer and looking thoughtful. I swallowed another mouthful of food, keeping my eyes on him, not wanting to seem weak.

"I suppose you know what question I'm going to ask next," he said, and I gave up on eating the food, putting down my cutlery and folding my hands together in front of me on the table, giving the man my full attention.

"Yes."

"Do you kill people?"

Stiles choked on his mouthful, but I didn't spare him so much as a glance. I had to answer honestly, even though every single bone in my body was screaming at me to lie. "Not anymore." Okay, so it was still a lie, if what had happened less than 48 hours ago was any measure, but I once more forced myself not to think about it.

His eyebrow twitched. "But you used to?"

I hesitated, struggling to continue spewing the truth. "Yes."

His heart sped up in his chest, and my own ached painfully. "How many?"

That was the question I was dreading above all else, and the worst part was, it was because I didn't even know the answer. "Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to," I responded smoothly, chin tilting up towards the ceiling, lips pressed into a firm line.

He chuckled, but the sound was more bitter than anything else. "You've got me there," he admitted, running his palm over his mouth before taking a sip of his beer. "Maybe it's better I don't know." He put down the bottle, blue eyes focused intently on me. "Arresting you wouldn't do any good, would it?" he seemed to have come to terms with this truth.

"No sir," I replied honestly. "You've thought about it?"

"Of course I have," he all but spat back. "All those people that you've murdered, they need justice."

"Do cows get justice when humans slaughter them in the millions for their blood?" I snapped in response, a feeling of deep unease building within me. John looked taken aback, for that matter, so did Stiles, and I instantly slouched, guilt burning like vervain in my chest. "That sounded harsher than I meant for it to sound."

"You just compared people, innocent people, to cattle," the Sheriff looked sick by my words, only intensifying my guilt.

I had done that, and I was completely right in my metaphor. Vampires – and most supernatural creatures, for that matter – were at the top of the food chain. Yes, people were dead, but it was simply natural selection, wasn't it?

That's life; predators eat their prey.

None of this could be said under these circumstances, of course. Humans tended to dislike being told they weren't exempt from the laws of nature, arrogant as they were. He wouldn't ever understand – at least, not without a dose of vampire blood and a snapped neck...but I digress.

"I had better go," I said, pushing back my chair and slipping to my feet. I glanced to Stiles who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, honey brown eyes wide as they could go, frozen in place as he tried to process what was happening in front of him.

The Sheriff noticed the direction of our gazes, and cleared his throat, making me turn to look at him cautiously. "Telling you to stay away from my son won't do any good either, will it?" he said, already knowing full well that was the case.

"I'm afraid, whether you like it or not, I'm going to be around for as long as Stiles wants me," I told him with conviction. I met Stiles' eyes once more. "I'll see you later," I promised him, and he nodded wordlessly. "Sheriff," I finally nodded to my boyfriend's dad, painfully forcing my lips up into something of a polite smile before turning and leaving the house.

It felt like the ground was shaking under my feet with every step I could. Car engines echoed around me, but I paid no attention, continuing on down the road, my hands tucked deep into my pockets.

I hadn't felt so pathetic and ashamed to be what I was since...since I'd moved to this fucking hole of a town.

My eyes were focused on the pavement in front of me, sidestepping the specks of gum in the gravel when I heard someone coming up behind me. I didn't bother to move, assuming the oncoming traffic would see me, but a moment later they bumped into me. The force wasn't enough to knock me off course, but the stranger wasn't as strong as I was, and with an undignified shriek he fell to the concrete.

I rolled my eyes but didn't bother apologising – it was their fault, after all.

"Aw, shit," the man, who I assumed was an avid jogger from the ridiculous shorts and sweatbands he wore, cussed.

A scent reached my nose. Vampires were like sharks, one drop of blood could be smelt from miles away. Unfortunately for this health conscious and competitive human, he was exceptionally close, and even a newborn could have detected the salty and mouthwatering scent of blood that was dripping from the deep graze splayed along his forearm.

"Watch where you're going," the ludicrous looking man growled, but I didn't have it in me to point out that he was the one in the wrong. "Well, are you going to say sorry?" he demanded indignantly.

My eyes followed a drop of ruby red blood as it dribbled from the wound, trickling down his arm and falling from the tip of his elbow. My mouth filled with saliva and my gums ached. I groaned as my hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

I had only just eaten, how could I still be hungry? Why was my body reacting this way? It was like the tolerance I'd painstakingly built up over the last year was crumbling from under me. All the reasons for resisting were becoming quieter and quieter in my head, and I whimpered, my jaw aching under the strain I was using to keep it shut, concealing the fangs that would be visible should I open my mouth.

"Whoa," the jogger murmured warily, eyeing me with suspicion. I wondered vaguely what I must have looked like; body tensed, coiled like a python preparing to strike, eyes no doubt beginning to turn red with blood. His heartbeat picked up in fear as he took a step back, and I couldn't deny the curl of pleasure I felt at his terror. "It's fine, geez," he shrugged it off, turning around and beginning to jog in the other direction, the opposite of where he'd been heading before.

I locked my body down, all but frozen on the side of the road, my muscles cramping as I tensed them so tightly.

I didn't dare to breathe, turning around after what must have been an eternity of convincing myself not to go after the prey, and stalking in the direction of my house.

Something was seriously wrong with me, and I wasn't sure what. All I knew, was that whatever had happened in my missing week was going to cost everyone in this town dearly.

And yet it still wasn't enough incentive to leave.