Oh well I never cared if you were there

But I loved you more than I could say

But I was scared of the repercussions I would face if you had left

But I guess it doesn't matter now, it doesn't matter now

Your nights spent shouting at the stars and moon

I never could sleep tight with them watching over you

Oh but you never were a lonely lover holding on to me

And now you're all alone

Yeah you can't stray from what you are

You're the closest thing to hell I've seen so far

Yeah you can't stray from what you are

You're the closest thing to hell I've seen so far

Death Rattle – Mallory Knox


I wasn't sure who I was more angry at; Stiles or myself.

I didn't sleep at all, not able to get a minute of rest in after everything that had happened. Besides, school started mere hours after the events in the loft, and though Scott and Allison asked me to go speak to papa-hunter with them, I needed time to calm down and blow off steam.

I was furious and resentful, hating everyone and everything around me; it was better for everyone if I just stayed away from all living creatures in general.

Two bags of blood and a broken punching bag later, I was walking towards the school. It was November now, and I reluctantly let go of my penchant for costumes, instead going back to my trusty leather jeans, bulky old boots and plain white shirt. I wanted to throw one of Stiles' flannels over the top, but I didn't want to be surrounded by his scent all day; it would only be a reminder of all the bad happening around us at the moment.

I knew I had to face him, knew we had to talk. I was waiting on an explanation about the kiss he shared with some slag during the party, and though I was hurt and betrayed that it had happened, I was willing to hear him out before I jumped to any conclusions.

So despite the fact that I was irritated and my pride was bruised, I still stood tall as I stood outside the entrance to the school, cigarette in hand as I waited for my human boyfriend to arrive.

He didn't notice me when he walked passed, I had to step out in front of him to get his attention. His heart leapt and he flinched violently, placing a hand on his chest. "Someone's jumpy," I commented lightly, hoping to ease his tension.

Instead of scoffing or rolling his eyes, he frowned, a severe expression on his features. His heart didn't calm, continuing to race from under his sternum. He said nothing, eyeing me in something like panic, like he wasn't sure what to say. It made me sad, because conversation with Stiles had always come so easily.

What had changed?

"Wanna skip first period?" I suggested softly, dropping what remained of my cigarette to the concrete and stepping on it with the thick sole of my boot. "We can go across the road for coffee and talk?"

"I can't," he said the instant I was done speaking, like he'd been thinking of his response the whole time, not even listening to what I'd been saying. "I'm busy."

"Stiles," I said his name with a frown, stepping closer, only to be hurt when he shifted away from me. "What's wrong?"

He winced like my question caused him physical pain. "I have to go," he told me hurriedly, keeping his head down, his heart rate not calming but instead, if anything, speeding up.

He tried to step around me, but I refused to let him leave, stepping in front of him and blocking his exit. "We need to talk, Stiles," my tone was deadly serious.

"And we will, later," he said quickly, like he was distracted. He tried stepping around me again, and this time I didn't stop him, letting him brush passed me and disappear into the building, leaving me feeling painfully hollow and full of self-loathing.

I wasn't completely sure what was wrong, but I had a feeling it was my fault. I'd been lying to him about my resistance to blood, lied by omission when I didn't tell him about the people I'd recently slaughtered. Stiles had good instincts, of course he was picking up on my dishonesty. He knew I was keeping something from him, and it was pushing him away.

I resolved to give him some space, deciding that once he'd calmed down enough to talk to me, I'd sit him down and tell him absolutely everything.

Maybe then he could help me to heal whatever damage Kol had inflicted.

I had a feeling he might have been my only hope.


I was at lunch, halfway through a crappy cheese sandwich from the cafeteria as I lounged on the bleachers, staring out over the empty lacrosse field, when somebody came into my line of sight, a cocky grin spread across his face.

"Julie, right?" the newcomer asked, feigning confusion.

"Juliet," I corrected him with a scowl, less than pleased by his approach, still bitter from what had happened with Stiles that morning. "Are you lost?"

The guy laughed like I'd cracked the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "I've been watching you," he said, dopey grin fixed on his face.

"You probably shouldn't lead with that," I replied flatly, arching one sharp brow at him judgementally. "It sounds creepy."

His expression didn't falter, remaining ridiculously bright with a hint of sly – like he was trying to come across as sexy. I wasn't unused to male attention, but I most certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with it today. "We should go out some time," he said confidently, as though the chance of me saying no was slim to none. "You, me, a bottle of wine...whaddya say?" He reached out a hand like he was expecting me to take it.

"I think I'd need more than a single bottle of wine to even consider looking at you twice," I said blandly, picking up my apple and biting into it, chewing as I disinterestedly awaited his response.

He seemed thrown by my uninterested words. The sun was beating down on us, and though I didn't sweat, the human boy did. He wiped a hand across his shiny forehead, and I grimaced as I took another bite of my lunch.

He leaned closer to me, and my body froze as his scent wafted over me – he smelt of freshly mown grass and wood chips. Suddenly the only sound I could hear was the wet, gluggy and delicious beating of his heart; the only thing I could see was the blue of his veins, blood coursing so very close to the surface.

My mouth filled with saliva and my hands tensed into fists. The breath left me in a sharp huff that the cocky son-of-a-bitch took as arousal, grinning arrogantly, completely oblivious to the lethal danger that was inches from his throat.

I tried to mentally list all the reasons I had to resist, but as I began, I found that there were very few. I was so hungry, I might as well have been a newborn.

"You need to leave," I spat through clenched teeth, and there was a crunching sound as the apple in my hand got crushed under my grip.

"Don't be like that, baby," he crooned, grin widening, revealing rows of pearly white teeth that made my fangs ache, demanding to be noticed. "Nobody's around, we can have all the fun we want."

I realised he was right. My senses expanded, taking in everything within human hearing distance, and I confirmed that there was indeed nobody in the immediate area.

No witnesses.

I stifled a groan, the list of reasons to resist getting smaller with every passing second. He leaned even closer, encouraged by the ravenous look on my face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but it was the last straw, and a beat later I had his head in my hands, impatiently pushing aside his teeshirt so I could sink my fangs into the smooth skin at his shoulder.

He tried to shout, but my left hand reached around to press against his lips, stifling his cries. He was divine, the metallic blood pooling on my tongue, making me moan into his skin. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful, not bothering to keep up the pretence of breathing.

I didn't break from my stupor until I heard the frantic sound of his heart begin to slow. I was killing him.

I ripped away from him, and he tumbled down the bleachers, coming to a stop in the dirt at the base, head lolling as he lost consciousness, a bloody stain on his shirt.

"Motherfucker," I cursed furiously. If I had a heartbeat, it would have been racing in pure panic.

What had I done?

I had to act quickly, who knew when somebody would walk onto the field and see the evidence of my slip-up? Power coursing flowing through me in a way only a fresh attack could achieve, I was by my victim's side in a blink, leaning over him and gently slapping his face, my unbeating heart in my throat.

"Wake up!" I ordered the boy whose name I didn't know, putting all of my supernatural persuasion into my voice. With a pained groan he blinked open his bright blue eyes, wincing up at me groggily. I couldn't leave him with my bite mark on his shoulder, if it got back to she Sheriff that I'd been chewing on high school students' necks, I was done for.

The thought of blood sharing with this tool bag made me feel physically ill, but there was little I could do. With a disgusted grunt I bit into the skin of my wrist. Blood trickled down my hand but I cared little as I shoved the bloody appendage into his mouth, holding it there until he'd swallowed the absolutely bare minimum he needed to to heal the evidence my fangs had left.

I pulled away as soon as I was able, and his eyes looked more alert as he stared up at me confusedly. "You had a nosebleed," I compelled him, my green eyes meeting his sky blue ones. "You're going to forget you came out to see me, and you're going to forget what happened." He repeated my commands robotically, pupils dilating as my little party trick did it's job. "Go to class."

I blinked, and he stood up without further prompting, straightening his clothes and walking away from the field without looking back.

I stayed on the grass, curling my arms around my legs and holding them to me tightly. I wasn't sure what was worse: that I'd done it at all, or that I was struggling to feel guilty about it.

I tried to tell myself that nobody had been seriously hurt. I'd fed, he had no memory, and nobody had to know, so who cared in the end?

My hands were shaking, and I knew there was something seriously wrong with me, and the only person I wanted to speak to about it was avoiding me. I jumped when my phone cut through the silence, the default ringtone tinkling through the air. I fished it from my pocket, hoping beyond all hope that it was Stiles.

A glance down let me down, and I answered the call with a snapped, "What?"

"Whoa," Melissa's familiar voice said over the line. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

I sighed, running a finger along my nose, trying to ease the oncoming headache. I felt a glimmer of regret, but I wasn't about to be caught apologising. "What's up, Melissa?" I asked her in a kinder tone, letting my head tip back against the wall behind me and staring up at the cloudy sky, absolutely refusing to think about what had occurred not two full minutes ago on the bleachers.

"I just thought I'd let you know that Stiles is in the hospital-"

"He's what?" I demanded, shoving my half-finished sandwich from my lap as I clamoured to my feet. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"Take a breath, he's fine," she assured me, and I paused, taking her advice and sucking in a lungful of air. "He was suffering from extreme exhaustion. I gave him a sedative, and he's getting some rest in one of our beds."

"Which room?" I pressed, snatching my bag from the ground and heading out of the school grounds, making a beeline for the main road that would take me in the direction of the hospital.

"Come meet me at the front desk and I'll take you to him," she bargained, and with a reluctant huff I relented, murmuring a farewell and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

Guilt and anxiety swirled around in my gut. How had I not known Stiles was so sleep deprived that he needed to be admitted to hospital? I felt like a failure, I'd been so caught up in my own pathetic problems that I hadn't been paying enough attention to what mattered most.

The hospital wasn't too busy when I arrived, and I found Melissa by the front desk as she said she'd be. "Where is he?" I asked in lieu of a greeting, hands braced on the flat surface of the desk.

"Good to see you too, Jules," Scott's mom replied, shooting me a scolding look that made me feel oddly chastised. "He's in room 115," she continued when it became clear I had nothing more to say. "He won't be waking up any time soon, though."

"Thank you," I told her, making sure my sincerity was clear in my voice. "For telling me."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you when he wakes up," she said with a quiet smile.

I forced my lips into something of a smile back, nodding at her thankfully before slipping away from the desk and following the numbers up until I reached room 115. I hesitated at the door, hand hovering over the handle as I weighed my options.

What if Melissa was wrong? What if he didn't want to see me?

Before I could work myself up over it, I pulled on the handle, slipping into the room and letting the door click shut behind me. Stiles hadn't looked so peaceful in weeks. His face was clear of a frown, absent of worry lines or a furrowed brow. My lips tipped up in response to seeing him so calm, and I wandered over to his beside, dropping my bag onto the floor at my feet before curling into the chair sitting by his side.

As I sat down in the still, quiet room, I was suddenly painfully aware of how exhausted I was. I hadn't slept in days, and I was still recovering from whatever those ghost-ninjas had done to me. The back of my ear itched and I scratched at it irritably.

With a sigh I leaned my forehead down on the bed just beside Stiles' still hand, letting my eyes drift shut as I let the tension fade from my body.

It was amazing how safe this human boy could make me feel, even when he was unconscious.

I hadn't realised that I'd drifted off to sleep until my phone buzzed in my pocket, making me shoot up in shock, chest clenching in surprise as I struggled to fish the device from my pants. It was an unknown number, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a telemarketer, so I declined the call, slipping it back into my pocket and turning to Stiles, who was still unconscious, breathing steady and even.

Doubt and indecision bubbled up form my stomach, burning in my chest as I sat with it. Would he even want to see me? He hadn't even told me he'd been coming to the hospital, so why would he want me there when he woke up?

"Stiles?" I said before I'd even made a conscious decision to speak. His heartbeat remained steady, not a pump out of beat; he was dead to the world.

My eyes began to sting, and I realised that I had to speak to somebody about what was happening to me, and there was nobody I'd rather speak to than Stiles. The fact that he wasn't conscious was just an added bonus.

"I'm not upset about you kissing someone else," I said to him under my breath, my hands tucked between my legs tightly, stopping myself from moving them. "When you wake up, I'm sure I'm going to hear all about how she kissed you and how you pulled away instantly." I attempted a smile, but it fell flat. Luckily nobody was around – or awake – to see it. "Even if you don't say that, I get it. I haven't been a good girlfriend."

It was a hard truth to admit, but there was still harder truths to come.

"I'm scared, Stiles," I whispered, unbelieving that I was admitting this to his unconscious form. Again, his eyelids didn't so much as flutter. I didn't dare reach out to touch his hand, even though I wanted nothing more than to feel his skin on mine. "I'm losing my grip on my humanity," I confessed, lip trembling in shame as I leant closer, breathing in his mint-and-chocolate scent. "I can feel my control slipping with every passing breath." My eyes were watering so much that my vision went blurry, and I bit my lip harshly, only succeeding in making the tears spill out over my lids, trickling down my cheeks and dripping from my jaw onto the crisp white hospital sheets.

I sniffled, glad he wasn't awake to see me fall apart.

"I want to give in so bad," I revealed, my throat closing around my words. "I want nothing more than to give in and let it all end." I sniffled, letting my forehead drop to the bed at his hips. "But that would mean losing you," my lip trembled again, a shudder running through me at the mere thought. "Help me," I begged his slumbering form. "I can't keep suffering like this, sooner or later my instincts will take over and I'll have no choice but to revert back to pre-Stiles-Juliet. All I can do is hope you don't hate me when that happens. Because I won't be able to survive you hating me, I can barely even handle you being upset with me now."

I sighed, lifting my head and running my hands over my face.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that...I feel like our time is limited, and I want you to know how sorry I am for when I inevitably ruin everything with nothing but the flick of a switch."

I sucked in a deep breath, letting the air and Stiles' scent calm me before I exhaled strongly, the air leaving my lips with a hissing sound.

"I'll leave you alone now," I murmured regretfully, the last thing I wanted to do was leave him here to wake up alone, but I wasn't sure I could look into his eyes when he did so. "I'll see you soon," I promised him, leaning up to gently press my lips to his forehead. His skin wasn't as warm as usual, instead cooler to the touch, but still just as smooth and soft. "I love you," they were my favourite words to say, and I wasn't sure whether or not I imagined the way he seemed to shift closer to me, an unconscious but instinctual movement.

Finally, incredibly reluctantly, I pulled myself away, forcing myself to keep my eyes from his dozing form and barrelling towards the door, quietly slipping back into the hallway and letting it click shut behind me.

I was glad nobody interrupted me on the way out of the hospital, I wouldn't have been able to predict what my reaction would have been had someone gotten in my way.


It was early the next morning when Stiles let himself into my house. I hadn't gotten much rest, too wound up and disturbed from what had happened on the bleachers to get any shuteye. Every time I closed my eyes I could taste the boy's blood on my tongue, feel his thrashing from under my hands.

And I still struggled to feel any semblance of guilt over it.

I was listening to old records in my room when I heard him enter, catching the familiar thrumming of his heart and a whiff of his minty scent. I didn't want him to feel crowded, so I let him come find me. His footsteps were steady and sure on the stairs as he climbed them, heading to my bedroom without hesitation.

I slid to my feet from where I was reclined on window seat, smoothing my hands over my dark blue night-slip, the satin running lusciously against my skin.

Eventually he slipped into my room, letting the door shut behind him, the only light in the room coming from the small reading lamp I had left on by my bed. "Stiles," I greeted him, forcing myself not to be pathetically nervous. It was Stiles after all. "How are you feeling?" I asked him in concern, letting my eyes roam over his form, noting that he was holding himself assuredly, standing tall and proud.

The rings under his eyes were darker than ever, and he tilted his head in a way that reminded me of myself, eyes assessing me like he'd never seen me clearly before this moment. "I'm fine now," he finally answered me, a sexy smirk flickering at his lips.

"Good," I murmured, relaxing slightly. "It's a bit early to have that talk, maybe we could-"

His footsteps were surprisingly quiet on the carpet as he padded over to me. He didn't look contemplative or sombre, knowing that we needed to have a serious conversation, instead he looked impish, smirking at me widely, eyes fluttering over my form hungrily, like he hadn't seen a woman half-naked in decades.

He didn't look tired at all, suddenly his entire face was lit up in a mischievous, gleeful smirk and his eyes were lit with lust. I'd seen lust in his expression before, of course, but this was different. It was...colder than I was ever used to seeing from him.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, and though I didn't mind the term of endearment, it wasn't one we'd ever really used before.

Something about it set off alarm bells in my head, but I couldn't put my finger on why. As I met his eyes, the bells went away, replaced by a burning hunger that claimed my thoughts and desires.

His lips met mine in a furious kiss, one that was all teeth and tongues, so incredibly hot that my frozen chest fluttered in excitement.

I moaned as his lips slid wetly against mine and his tongue caressed me. He was usually passionate, don't get me wrong, but this was at a whole new level. He always kissed me like he loved me, and he rarely kissed me like he wanted to devour me.

I enjoyed the roughness. Stiles was a virgin before we were together, so he was only just getting used to the wide world of sex, and was therefore still a little timid when we were together. But this wasn't timid, it wasn't even hesitant, or careful. It was rough, in a way I'd craved but hadn't known how to ask for.

His fingers, much more deft than I was used to, grasped the hem of my nighty and ripped it up and over my head. He groped me like a starving man, like we'd been apart in such a way for years instead of days. He slipped his palms under my thighs, hiking me up so my knees hooked over his hips, and he pressed against me in the most intimately delicious way.

Stiles was generally quite vocal when we were together, but now he was silent, gripping me like he was frustrated. I felt him move under me, and in the next moment was shoved up against the wall beside the door. I groaned in pure pleasure, reaching down to undo his pants, checking if he was hard.

Before my palm even met his length, he was pushing into me without any kind of foreplay, grunting under his breath. My own breath caught at the feel of being so gloriously filled. Without thinking I grasped at his own shirt, not bothering to take care as I ripped it from his body, exposing his skin to the cool air of my room. "Stiles," I breathed into his ear a mere second before he thrust. It was rough and my back scraped against the wall deliciously. I moaned again as he suckled at my neck, biting down on the skin in a way that had me mewling embarrassingly loudly. "Stiles," I repeated, it felt like a chant on my lips.

He thrust up again, and I scratched at his back desperately, searching for some kind of leverage. My nails dug into his skin, but thankfully not enough to draw blood. He seemed to like it more than ever before. "Fuck," he panted to himself from between my breasts when he thrust up again, my nails mirroring the action on the smooth expanse of skin on his back.

"Stiles," I murmured again, the word like a prayer as his lips closed around my nipple.

He seemed to growl gutturally – a sound I'd never before heard from him that started in his chest and turned me on so intensely that I clenched around him as I came, and with an exhale he followed me over the edge, freezing within me as he climaxed. Everything hazy, and I bit my lip hard as I struggled not to cry out.

He met my eyes, and I was blown away by the intensity in his honey gaze, the lust and the pleasure so powerful, so vivid and severe, that it was almost a glare. I was caught in his eyes like a deer in the headlights, stunned into silence by the force of what I was seeing, by the feeling of him within me.

Then he sagged, eyes drooping shut sleepily.

I was breathless, but I managed a quiet chuckle as I caught him, holding him up as he slipped out of me. "You okay?" I asked gently, and he managed no more than a mumble in response. He didn't usually pass out so heavily once we'd finished – he loved to snuggle – but I assumed he was still exhausted from the events of the last day, so I delicately pulled him over to the bed, pulling the covers over him gently. I changed into one of his shirts, foregoing the underwear as I crawled back into bed with him.

"Jules?" he asked drowsily, blinking over at me blearily as I curled around him like a koala bear.

"Shhh," I shushed him gently, stroking my fingers down his face. "Sleep."

"M'kay," he murmured, eyes sliding shut once more.

My body was humming from the mind-blowing sex, but something was still nagging me. I couldn't figure out what it was, but it was almost like something had been missing during the whole romp.

The guilt from the last few days came back to me hard and painful. How could I lay in bed with this man, leaving him completely in the dark about what I'd recently done? I'd allowed him to sleep with a murderer, and I was lying by omission.

I would tell him what had been happening with me, now just wasn't the right time. As I drifted off to sleep, I realised what had been missing during our earth-shattering moment together.

It had been love.


A/N: I know some of you weren't too happy with the last chapter, but I did it that way for a reason. Things are about to go from bad to worse, and I hope you guys will stick with me for the ride.

IMPORTANT: I kinda wanna move onto other projects, most of which I've already told you guys about – some I haven't – so I'm thinking about ending this story after this season, but I'm not totally sure yet. What do you guys think? Please let me know, your feedback is everything to me.

Next chapter is a very big, very important one that I had to write out probably four different times until I was satisfied. It'll be a game changer. I'll see you lovely readers then (best start preparing yourselves).