Behind my eyelids are islands of violence,
My mind's ship-wrecked,
This is the only land my mind could find,
I did not know it was such a violent island,
Full of tidal waves, suicidal crazed lions,
They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chin,
And I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win,
I begin to assemble what weapons I can find,
'Cause sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind.
Migraine – Twenty One Pilots
The door opened with a creak, the sound reverberating around the tiny, damp room like a bullet. Stiles flinched at the noise, but I stared at the man standing in the doorway, his gun held in steady, unflinching hands.
"You're free to go," he said flatly, like a warden telling a legal prisoner they'd made bail, not like a psychotic hunter holding a bunch of teenage kids captive just because they had extra pointy teeth.
I was the first to stand, my hands held in front of me, prepared to dive in front of a bullet should anyone aim their weapon at Stiles; the only person present without the supernatural ability to heal. "Is that so?" I asked defensively, eyes flickering past him, trying to decide whether or not it was some kind of ruse to get ourselves killed.
"Get out before we change our minds," the hunter snapped, sneering in my direction, showing off his missing front tooth.
I turned around, seeing Malia and Stiles already standing, watching the exchange warily. "Go," I prompted, gesturing for them to leave first. I wanted to keep them in my sights and make sure I could see every person so much as breathing in Stiles' direction.
We filed from the stale little room. I was glad to leave the white, cracked tiles behind. They led us to the exit, a gun placed to the tail of my spine, and I instinctively touched the ring sitting on my middle finger, making sure it was securely in place just as we were roughly shoved out into the blinding sun, lest I go up in flames (again).
"What the actual hell is going on right now?" Stiles murmured to us, though I was sure he knew that neither of us had an accurate answer.
"Go," the biggest of the brutes spat, his accent thick with the word, gun held up to his lazy eye threateningly.
"Or what?" I countered instinctively.
"Are you seriously arguing with them about us being released?" Stiles hissed in my ear, and though the close contact made me tingle with pleasure, I flinched away with a wince.
"Force of habit," I explained, shooting the oaf a final warning snarl.
"Where's Scott?" Stiles asked, the only one of us to realise exactly what was missing. I cursed silently, berating myself for being a selfish bitch once again.
Malia sniffed, the sound loud as she glanced to our left. "Over there," she said stonily, jerking her head in the direction of Scott, who stood with a familiar looking woman under the shade of some slightly torn sails. They were murmuring back and forth, but I was too drained to bother listening in, figuring the were-coyote had it handled.
Lydia was standing by the Jeep, along with the fox, Kira. Both glanced over at me uneasily, but I ignored it with only minimal grimacing, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the Jeep. Unthinking, I ran my fingertips down the side of the vehicle, skin sliding over smooth blue paint. In a weird way, it was like coming home.
I stepped back with a scowl before I could let those thoughts consume me.
Lydia looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't get the chance as Stiles stepped forwards, making his way over to Scott, who was heading towards us, hand held up to block the glare of the Mexican sun.
"So what now?"
"She thinks she knows where we can find Derek," the alpha responded with a helpless shrug.
"Is she gonna tell us where?" Malia asked cynically, and I had to bite my lip to hide a smirk.
"Actually, she's giving us a guide."
The perfectly timed sound of an engine rumbled across the square we were stood in, and we all spun around to peer over at the figure heading towards us on a pristine motorcycle, their long hair peeking out form under their helmet. They came to a stop, legs shooting out to steady their ride, and reached up to pull off the headgear, revealing a pretty but scarred face.
"You know her?" Stiles asked his best friend warily.
"Braeden," the werewolf answered with a nod.
"Who's Braeden?" Kira asked confusedly.
"She's a mercenary," Lydia replied, eyeing the newcomer through narrowed eyes.
"Right now, I'm the only one who's going to take you to La Iglesia," she responded flatly, turning her beady eyes onto Scott.
"The church?" Lydia continued confusedly.
"What's the Church?" Stiles spoke up.
"It's not a place you'll find God," Braeden said honestly, and I could only imagine the sort of shit-storm we were willingly walking into.
"Is it more than a day's ride?" I asked, deciding to move things along.
She looked over at me, eyes narrowed as she assessed me carefully. "We should make it there just before dark," she eventually said, her voice steady and apathetic. "If we leave now."
"And this is definitely where we'll find Derek?" Stiles cut in skeptically.
"I guarantee it."
There was a beat of silence, then the group leapt into action.
"Follow behind me," she continued, swinging a leg up and over the seat of her bike, settling down onto it with practised ease.
"Problem," Lydia spoke up, glancing over at the idle car warily.
"There are six of us, but only five seats in the Jeep."
As one, the group turned to stare at me, and I squashed down the sting of rejection I felt at the action.
"I didn't plan on sticking around anyway," I said flippantly, not sure whether or not that was a lie. I hadn't thought much beyond getting them out safely. Was I planning to stay with them? Was that even a good idea? I decided to roll with nonchalance, like the whole situation wasn't ripping me to shreds on the inside.
"You could run behind the car?" Scott suggested, ever the kind one of the group. "We might need you."
The words stirred something in me, and I had to fight to keep the emotions from appearing on my face. I grit my teeth and forced my expression to remain neutral, pointedly not looking at Stiles, who was staring at me from next to the Jeep.
"I doubt you'll need me," I said, glad it only sounded slightly bitter. I crossed my arms, looking away and tipping my head back to glance up at the sky like it was in any way intriguing.
"Where will you go?" Kira spoke up, and I was surprised she was the one to ask.
I shrugged, genuinely not knowing but scrambling to come up with an answer that didn't sound terribly pathetic. "I've got commitments here," I said, letting my eyes sweep the bustling square, the ground dusty and dry, the scent of hot sweat irritating my nose. "Suppose I'll stick around. Don't want the big bad Original on my back for not following through with a deal."
Kira and Malia looked confused, but the boys grimaced at the mention of Klaus, while Lydia frowned, considering me with those irritatingly intelligent eyes.
"Can you guys give us a minute, guys?" Stiles surprised me my speaking up, his words sending a wave of nauseas terror rolling through my stomach. I cringed as though expecting a physical blow, and the rest of the group turned and shuffled away to the other side of the Jeep, no doubt intending to pretend not to listen in. I faced Stiles, schooling my features into an expression of perfect nonchalance and awaiting the words that might either make me or break me.
He said nothing, his honey eyes flickering over my face like he'd forgotten what I looked like in the time we'd been away from one another.
"Don't worry," I said before he could say anything. I knew I was speaking out of fear, but I couldn't make myself stop. I had to protect myself, whatever the cost. "I won't be around to screw things up any more. You should go, save Derek and get home to your dad."
Stiles looked stricken by my words, but I couldn't bring myself to take the words back. Besides, being around him, without being with him, would just be too painful.
"What if I don't want you to go?"
His words blindsided me, and I looked up from the dirty ground, meeting his eyes in surprise. He was wearing an expression I hadn't thought I'd see from him ever again, one I knew I didn't deserve to receive. I said nothing, leaving the ball in his court, as it were.
Like a door was slammed over his expression, the look of enraptured reverence disappeared, hidden behind a scowling, awkward mask.
"Scott's right," he said, the frown on his face audible. "You might come in handy. I like knowing we have an extra set of hands – especially ones as skilled as yours."
Unable to help it, my lips flickered up into a sly, amused smile. Stiles grinned back, and I had to wonder whether he'd made the suspicious comment on purpose. "You would know," mumbled Malia slyly from the other side of the Jeep, and I couldn't help but smile wider.
"I really do have an obligation to stay," I told Stiles, realising that I had been right about one thing, I really did have an agreement to keep with Klaus.
"Come with us, then come right back," he said, a air of desperation in his tone. "He won't even know you've gone."
"It isn't that simple," I said grievously, a pained grimace resting on my face. "If he finds out I broke the deal..."
"He won't find out," Stiles insisted, stepping closer. His scent swirled around in my head like smoke, and I leaned in, lusting for more than just his blood. "Please, just come with us."
I contemplated the request for one long, silent minute. Did I want to risk it? Did I want to go with him, knowing that every second I spent in his presence made it harder and harder not to give into temptation? But really, I knew I didn't have a choice. He asked, and I said yes, that was just how it worked.
I didn't think I could deny him anything, not even after the events of last month.
"Okay," I agreed blindly. "I'm in."
Unfortunately, being that we were low on space and I wasn't the most popular of group members, I drew the short straw and found myself squashed into the trunk of the Jeep, my legs folded awkwardly in an attempt to fit.
At least I was above average in the flexibility department. Point: vampirism.
"Couldn't I have just sat on Scott's lap?" I complained quietly, shifting uncomfortably, trying to dislodge a door handle from my lower back.
"No," Stiles said tonelessly from the driver's seat, and I scowled, shifting again and turning to glare out the back window, ignoring the scent of the girls' blood that wafted through from the seat in front of me. I'd considered hitching a ride on Braeden's bike, but something told me she wouldn't have agreed anyhow.
"Okay, I'll ask. Who's Kate Argent?" Malia questioned abruptly, and I grimaced as an onslaught of memories pelted me like rain. Blonde hair and steely eyes, a sharp jaw and blood that smelled like murder trickling down the smooth, tanned skin of a long neck, graceful neck. "I got a brief answer from the awkward couple, but I need more details," she continued pointedly.
The rest of us were silent, nobody quite knowing what to say – and I decided to let the odd comment about us slide. How did we begin to explain Kate Argent? "Uh, I'd like to know too," Kira murmured softly from in front of me, hesitance in her sweet voice.
"Well, we were at her funeral," Stiles chirped with an air of frustrated bitterness. "So I'd like to know how she got out of a casket that was six feet underground."
"It isn't that special," I added with a grunt. "My kind do it all the time."
"She was never in it," Scott said before anyone else could comment. "The casket I mean," he clarified, turning to look at me with a blank stare.
There was another beat of silence, then Lydia said, "she was Allison's aunt," and the Jeep fell into a hesitant hush. The thought of Allison made me grimace, and I looked up towards the front, inexplicably meeting Stiles' gaze in the rearview mirror. His eyes were filled with pain and regret, and I returned the expression for a brief moment before the guilt overwhelmed me and I had to look away before he saw the shine to my eyes. "And a total sociopath," Lydia added, and I latched onto the comment like it was a life raft, focusing on the situation at hand and struggling not to let myself drown in the other negative emotions swirling around in my head.
"You don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to," Kira said graciously, and I could practically smell her sympathy.
"Um, yes he does," Malia snapped, and I snorted from where I was squashed in the back, shifting again in an attempt to get comfortable.
"No, she's right," Scott said, voice hollow with unhealed grief. "You guys should know. You need to know."
"Okay, Kate was the one who set the fire that killed most of Derek's family," Stiles began, and I knew he was saying it so that Scott didn't have to. A wave of affection crashed through me, and I pressed my lips together against the sensation. I didn't have the right to feel that way. Not anymore.
"Some of them survived, like Cora and Peter," Scott added, probably determined to stay strong.
"A very angry Peter," Lydia interjected tartly.
"Yeah," Scott nodded, "he's the one who bit and turned me."
"He's the one who finally caught up to Kate and killed her."
"I still remember the scent of the blood," I said, sounding unnervingly wistful. "It was bitter, like all of the bitch in her personality had seeped into her veins."
I saw Malia's lips twitch upwards, and I smirked in her direction, pleased with the reaction. "We saw her buried," Stiles continued, oblivious to the exchange, and quite obviously ignoring my sly comment.
"We saw a casket, remember?" Scott corrected patiently. "She wasn't in it. The Calaveras heard that Kate had been killed by an alpha's claws. They wanted to make sure that she was really dead."
I pictured Kate's cold, lifeless corpse – though I supposed, in hindsight, perhaps it hadn't been so 'lifeless'after all. How could I have missed it? If I'd been paying attention, I would have caught it, and been able to snap her neck before she became an issue.
The thought ran through my mind without my permission, and suddenly I felt I might be sick. I turned around so I was facing the window, the disgusted grief in my eyes now impossible for anyone – particularly Stiles – to see.
I'd gotten used to thinking that way, my first option always being murder, because that was a vampire's inherent nature. But thinking that way now would only send me tumbling down the treacherous mountain of progress that I was once again attempting to scale.
"The body was healing, more and more as she got closer to the full moon. She was coming back," Scott continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I remained staring out the rear window, watching where the dirt road disappeared over the hill. "So they switched out the bodies, and they took her. If a hunter's bit, they have to take their own life before they change. The Calaveras treat the code like law. They make it their responsibility to enforce it."
"Good for her," Malia said to fill the pause, an apathetic shrug to her shoulders, reminding me starkly of myself. "I wouldn't do it either."
"Would you kill half a dozen people to get out?" Scott asked darkly. "Because that's what she did."
The Jeep once more filled with silence, the tension thick with the majority of us lost in our memories.
"So...Kate's a werewolf now?" Kira was the one to break the silence, leaning forwards as she spoke directly to Scott.
There was a lengthy pause, and I grimaced at the idea of facing Kate again. I wasn't in the mood to fight anyone, let alone a wolf. "I don't know," the alpha murmured sincerely. "There's this saying: sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are."
"What kind of shape is 'sociopathic bitch'?" Lydia asked bitterly, and I couldn't help the impressed twitch of my lips. I opened my mouth to respond, only for a loud bang to echo through the Jeep as it jerked violently to one side, throwing my head into the back window with a sickening crack.
"God dammit," I cursed, reaching up to press a hand to my fractured skull. "What the bloody hell was that?" I demanded, my original accent bleeding through momentarily due to the concussion now clouding my mind.
"Everyone okay?" Stiles confirmed, barely waiting to hear an answer before he dove from the car, spilling out onto the dusty road and into the stifling heat.
"What happened?" Braeden was asking as she swung off her bike and began to march towards us. I grimaced, shoving my weight against the back door until it popped open, and I tripped out onto the road.
"I don't know, it felt like we hit something!" Stiles was saying, an edge of panic in his voice.
"Scott, we need to get there by night," the guide was saying impatiently, casting a wary look up at the setting sun. "It's too dangerous otherwise."
Scott winced in confusion, not knowing what to do. He spun around to look at Stiles, who only waved him away, knowing the dire situation they were in. "Go," he said firmly.
"Not without you," Scott argued gallantly.
"Someone needs to find Derek. We'll think of something, we always do. Just go," Stiles insisted stubbornly. "Take Jules with you, you'll need the backup."
Scott looked like he desperately wanted to argue. "The vampire stays," Braeden said from where she was now perched back on her bike.
"Excuse me?" I asked, a deadly edge to my voice. She stared back evenly. "Didn't take you for a racist," I added stonily.
"It isn't safe out here," she said shortly, apparently not in the mood to bicker. "They'll need all the protection they can get."
Although I longed to argue, the thought of leaving Stiles out here alone made me feel ill, so I curtly nodded my head, exchanging a serious look with Scott, making sure he concurred. With a nod, the teen wolf turned away, only for the kitsune to call out to him, rushing up to meet him and trading quiet words with one another.
"Great, now we're fucking stuck in the middle of the Goddamn desert," Malia was saying harshly, beginning to pace up and down the road beside the broken down Jeep. Stiles had popped the hood, peeking inside and assessing the inner workings of the vehicle with careful eyes. From behind us, Braeden's bike started up, and the pair of warriors sped away.
"Could be worse," I said flatly, my weight leant up against the side of the Jeep, unable to keep my eyes from straying too far from a lightly sweating Stiles.
"How could it possibly be worse?" Malia asked thornily.
"Could be human."
Stiles snorted, the sound irritated but begrudgingly amused. "Great," he huffed, not removing his eyes from the engine, the only human in the group. I longed to make a joking quip, maybe snuggle into his side and press my lips to his cheek – but that wasn't something that could happen...not now. Not after everything.
Malia continued to pace, kicking up dirt with her heavy footfalls. "Stiles," she said suddenly, "I don't think we hit something." I looked over to see her crouched by the wheel, a frown on her face as she reached under the car. "I think something hit us," she finished, producing a massive, dangerous looking spike and holding it up in the fading sunlight.
"What the hell is that?" Stiles demanded, a tinge of fear to his voice that I would have had to have been deaf not to notice. He turned to me, expecting me to know.
"Looks Aztec," I responded, grasping at straws. Stiles shot me a flat, unimpressed look. "What do you want me to say?" I asked sharply, made uncomfortable by the stares surrounding me. "I don't have a fucking clue."
I plucked the spike that was definitely made of bone from his grip, holding it up and examining it more closely.
"What I think we need to focus on is fixing the Jeep," I said, reaching back into the Jeep to toss the spike threw the open window and onto the empty seat.
"But, this means we were sabotaged...we were attacked," Kira said, her voice shaking in worry, though I was gracious enough not to mention it.
"Stiles," I barked, taking the lead. "Work," I pointed sternly at the engine. The human didn't argue, merely fishing another of his tools out and diving back into the engine.
"Haven't you been to college?" Kira asked me suddenly, nervousness apparent in the way she twisted her hands together. "Can't you do something? Help Stiles fix the Jeep?"
I shot her a look of condescension. "I never studied mechanics," I said slowly, like I was explaining it to a child. "If I had, we'd be out of this mess already."
"Play nice," Stiles snapped distractedly from where he was elbows deep in the motor. With a jolt I was thrown back to months previous, when he'd say the same thing, only with a fond smile on his face as he dragged his lips over my bare shoulder in affection...
"Maybe we should just walk?" Lydia suggested, but I was no longer listening, brought out of my painful stupor by the way the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
We were not alone.
"Hey, I will never abandon this Jeep," Stiles growled quickly. I noticed Malia and Kira straighten with me, all of us staring out into the still, silent desert with wary eyes. "Do you understand me? Never!" he continued obliviously.
"Work faster, Stiles," Malia commanded, sensing it as well as I. "There is something out here with us."
"What is it?" Stiles asked, an edge of panic to his voice.
"Keep working, Stilinski," I muttered before he could get too distracted. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but I didn't care to listen, instead turning to Malia, who continued to stare out at the dusty earth. "How've your skills been coming along?" I asked her quietly, keeping my eyes on the horizon, noting that the light was disappearing quickly – too quickly for comfort.
"Scott and Stiles have been helping me," she replied tensely, her body rigid. "I have better control now."
"Can you shift?"
"Not entirely."
"Can you fight?"
"Nobody to teach me on that front," she said, suddenly curt. "Not since you went AWOL." The words were quite plainly an accusation, and I felt the sting she'd been hoping to achieve. "Why'd you disappear, anyway?" she asked tightly.
I glanced over my shoulder. Stiles was muttering to Lydia about the engine, the both of them too caught up in their quiet bickering to pay our conversation any attention at all. Kira stood close to us, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn't listening in.
"It was what was best," I answered her curtly, glad Stiles couldn't hear. I longed to look back at him, take in his profile and his intoxicating scent, but I didn't want to be caught staring.
"Well, that's bullshit," Malia deadpanned, and although I wasn't pleased with the comment, I couldn't help but admire her attitude.
"Maybe it is," I allowed, my tone curious. "I don't have answers," I said. "None that will please any of you, anyway."
"They don't give a shit about being pleased," she bit back, amber eyes still focused intently on the horizon. "They just want the truth." Her voice had raised, enough the it finally alerted Lydia and Stiles to our conversation. Their bickering died off, and the sounds of Stiles tinkering with the engine fell silent.
"The truth," I repeated hollowly, keeping my eyes on a dead tree in the distance.
"I know that's a big ask from a pathological lier," she responded harshly.
I could hear Stiles' heart pick up from behind me. Curious, I tilted my head, digging the toe of my boot into the sandy ground. What did I do to her? Sure, I'd been a large part in what had saved her, and sure, we'd had a sort of bond, an understanding from the first moment we met. But that wasn't enough to evoke this sort of reaction, was it?
"I guess...I was scared," I finally answered, deciding that – what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. "I was terrified, more accurately. I don't cope with vulnerability well, and I was more vulnerable than I could ever remember being. So, I did what I always do when the going gets tough, and I ran." I paused, knowing what else I wanted to say but wondering if I was strong enough to say it. Stiles' heart pounded furiously from behind me, giving me all the prompting I needed. "I regret it, but now it's done," I said, tilting my chin up a fraction and moving my gaze to the sun which had just slipped below the horizon, "so let's focus on getting out of this hell hole alive, yeah?"
There was a long, drawn out silence in which I wasn't sure what my companion's reactions would be. I longed to look back and glance at Stiles, but I couldn't force my head to move, instead staring out at the rapidly darkening desert.
A metallic rattling filled the silent air, and a moment later Stiles murmured, "I need light. Hold this?" A beat later the light of a flashlight illuminated the space between us.
Kira began to talk to Lydia about something or rather, more nervous chatter than anything else, but it got the focus off of me, so I was content to remain on vigilant watch, my teeth ground together stubbornly.
Malia stepped up beside me, her tense shoulders never relaxing. "He was pissed," the were-coyote said from the corner of her mouth, this time her voice low enough not to attract attention. There was a dull throb in my heart, like someone had shoved a dagger through it. "Then he was devastated...then he was pissed again...it was hard to keep up with, actually," she murmured quietly. "All I know is I hate you for doing that to him."
There was a heartfelt edge to her words that made me bite my tongue. Had something happened between them in the month I was gone?
"Are you two..." I trailed off, not sure where that sentence was meant to end – not knowing if I even wanted to hear the answer.
Malia snorted like I'd made a joke. She didn't give me a reply, her heart steadily beating in her chest, keeping a careful, watchful eye on the horizon. I wondered whether that was an answer in and of itself, and I felt like somebody had deep-fried my heart. My insides crackled unpleasantly and I had the strongest urge to either throw up or scream.
"Lydia, can you please just hold the flashlight still?" Stiles was complaining from behind us, and the sound of his voice made my eyes sting. "It's really hard to see when you keep shaking it like that."
I refused to go to that place, so I bit the inside of my cheek until my eyes stopped stinging, deciding instead to focus my attention on the hills, expanding my senses as I monitored for any hint of an oncoming attack.
"I'm shaking it like this because we're in the middle of nowhere with your broken-down Jeep about to be attacked by yet another razor-clawed monster," the redhead hissed furiously, and despite everything my lips twitched up in an amused smirk, entertained by her fire. "And I'm terrified," she finished in a rather small voice, and I felt a flash of sympathy for the poor banshee.
"Well just be slightly less terrified," Stiles snapped callously before they continued to bicker, but I wasn't paying attention, feeling the eyes of something on us. I said nothing, not wanting to alarm anyone. My hands balled into fists, and my eyes flooded with blood, sweeping the desert, trying to pinpoint the origin of the stare.
"Anything?" Kira asked Malia and I cautiously.
"It's too hard to see," the were-coyote bit out, frustrated with herself. "We should have brought another flashlight."
"What about you, Jules?"
The kitsune hadn't worked her way up to calling me by the nickname, but I wasn't about to argue that right now – there were more important things to be worrying about. "Something's out there," I murmured back from around my fangs. "Watching us," I added, deciding there was no use sugarcoating it.
"Great," Kira mumbled with a sigh.
I was doing another quick sweep when my eyes finally caught sight of something in the distance. "Oh fuck," I hissed, and Malia's heart jumped even though her demeanour remained calm. "Stay here," I commanded the were-coyote and kitsune, taking a step into the darkness.
"Juliet!" Stiles exclaimed from behind me, his voice carrying a note of panic. "Malia!"
The thing, whatever it was, was fast. It had disappeared by the time I got to it, and I could hear the sound of Malia and Kira's heavy footsteps hitting the ground from behind me, albeit at a much slower pace. I didn't have time to stop to coddle them – if they wanted to run into danger they could be my fucking guest. Right now, I had to eliminate the threat to Stiles.
From the deathly, animalistic scent it left in it's wake, I could tell it was headed into the rocks up ahead. I sped up, running like I hadn't in weeks, pushing myself to the limit and catching up to it as quickly as I possibly could.
I didn't have time to assess what it was, just falling into attack mode and leaping at it, tackling it to the ground with a snarl. It let out a hiss and threw it's weight at me. It was fucking strong, forcing me to the ground. My head connected with a sharp rock, and I felt my skin split open, cool blood beginning to pour down my face.
I grunted at the collision, knowing I'd just gained my second concussion of the night.
"Jules!" Malia had caught up to me, and I could hear her barrelling closer at her top speed.
"Stay back!" I yelled as the thing lifted an arm, massive claws protruding from a bear-like hand. Malia was stupid and foolhardy, much like myself, and she dove at it. The scent of shifter blood filled the dusty air, and Malia let out a sharp cry.
I had two options: I could continue to attack, chase it off or kill it (if possible), or I could abandon the fight and look after Malia. I knew which one she'd have rathered me do, but I couldn't make myself do the logical thing, not when I knew it was the wrong thing to do.
I had to be a better person, for myself if not for anyone else.
The thing, whatever it was, saw that I had stopped my advance, turning and hightailing it out of there. I turned my attention to Malia.
"You alright, teen coyote?" I asked, ignoring my own throbbing skull and reaching for her bloodied side.
"Yeah," she hissed, pressing a hand over her wound. "You're not getting the urge to eat me, right?" she asked suddenly, surprising me with the question.
Despite the less than amusing circumstances, I had to snicker in amusement. "Honey, you reek of wet dog," I told her through a smirk. She attempted a smirk in response, but it just came out as more of a grimace as her injury no doubt began to sting.
I could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the rock formation along with the sharp sound of Kira's katana slicing through the cool night air.
"C'mon," I prompted Malia, "let's get back to the others before they get worried and do something stupid, like come after us."
She nodded, still wincing over her wound. We headed back towards the Jeep, coming across Kira as I'd known we would, the poor girl just about taking our heads off with her sword. "It's us!" Malia hissed, flinching away from the blade and shooting me a glance of tired exasperation.
"What's happening?" Kira demanded frantically. "What's out there?"
"Don't know," Malia said back in a hushed voice. "But it is big and fast." I remained facing the shadows, catlike eyes cutting through the dark like it was nothing. "And it cuts deep," she added, drawing attention to her wound.
Kira's already thundering heart kicked up a notch, but before she could say anything the unmistakeable sound of an engine starting up cut through the still night air.
"Let's go," I told them, spinning back around to begin to herd them in the direction of the Jeep.
Stiles was sitting behind the wheel, Lydia standing by his open door, staring out into the darkness with an anxious look on her pretty face. When we appeared from the shadows Stiles just about tumbled out of the Jeep, tripping over nothing in his haste to reach us.
"Oh, God," he retched slightly at the sight of the blood coating half my face.
"Don't worry," I assured him quickly, for one brief moment remembering the last time he'd seen me covered in blood. "It's mine."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!" he exclaimed furiously, clearly distraught. I winced, genuinely having thought that it would. "Get in the car," he snapped anxiously, eyes leaving mine to trail over Malia and Kira, who both scrambled to get into the car. As though it were some unspoken decision, all the other girls took places in the back, leaving the passenger seat the only available option for me to take.
The Jeep was still running, and he slipped back into place, pulling out of park and beginning down the road as quickly as he safely could.
We travelled in silence for a long few minutes, the lack of sound only making everybody more anxious. I could hear Stiles' heart thundering away in his chest, and a small part of me was pleased I could still evoke such a strong reaction from him in any way. "What the hell were you thinking?" Stiles demanded abruptly, pulling me from my thoughts sharply.
I blinked in surprise, realising my hand had drifted up so my fingers could prod at my now-healed wound. I wiped at the blood there self-consciously. "What was I meant to do? Sit there and let it stare at us?" I asked, trying to sound indignant but only sounding sadly pathetic.
"I'll tell you what you aren't meant to do," he growled, grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. "You aren't meant to go charging after it, alone, in the middle of the Goddamn night!"
"I had backup," I defended my actions, disgruntled.
"A kitsune with two months of experience and a were-coyote who's only been human for half of that?" he hissed back, but I glared back defiantly. "You're reckless," he said the words like they were an insult, and I couldn't help but rear back like he'd hit me, feeling strangely chastised. "And you!" he tossed a look over his shoulder at Malia, who looked shocked to have been called out. "Please, don't ever do that again!"
"What?" she demanded indignantly.
"I thought you just took off," he replied, losing some of his anger, which bemused me. "I thought you were running."
"I was running," she said impatiently, confused.
"No, like, I thought you were leaving."
There was a long, pregnant pause. "I wouldn't leave without you," Malia finally said, her voice innocently honest. I felt my heart squeeze as though it were still alive, quickly snapping my head around to the window, staring out into the inky blackness with a blank expression.
"Really?" Stiles sounded bemused.
"I would never leave without you." There was another pregnant pause, nobody quite knowing what to say, probably because of me. Just another reason I had to get the hell out of here. "Them, I would leave," Malia added casually, and the tension broke.
"It's progress," Stiles murmured, but he sounded distracted. I felt his eyes on me, but I stubbornly refused to look, not knowing what he'd see in my gaze. Was I hurt? Was I betrayed? I didn't know, I couldn't feel passed the buzzing numbness that had filled my body. They clearly had a connection, though to what extent, I couldn't tell.
The silence that followed was unbearable, and I had the inexplicable urge to slam my head against the glass of the window I was staring out of.
"That doesn't look so good," Lydia was the first to speak, but I didn't move my vacant stare from the dark horizon.
"It's okay," Malia said casually, and I knew they must have been referring to the were-coyote's wound. The smell of her blood wafted around the car, and though it wasn't in any way appetising, it made my stomach twist with hunger.
"Are you sure?" Kira questioned warily. "It looks deep."
"Yeah, I can feel it healing," she responded curtly.
"You didn't see anything?" Lydia asked, and I thought back to the encounter. I'd been a little preoccupied with keeping myself in one piece, and I had no idea what it had been, but there was one thing I had noticed.
"It wore an animal skull as a mask," I told them flatly, trying to remember more, but my memory was fuzzy after the blow to the head.
"That sounds creepy," Lydia murmured, and I hummed in agreement.
"It had a strong scent, though," Malia picked up, sounding thoughtful.
"Like what?" Stiles questioned.
"Like death."
"Are you sure you weren't picking up Juliet's scent?" he asked, and I finally looked away from the window to shoot him an annoyed scowl.
"This was different," she told him. "This was stronger. More potent."
"Whatever it was," I said, my voice stale. "It was strong and it was fast." There was a beat. "Do you even know where you're going?" I asked Stiles, noticing that he was driving rather confidently towards the East.
"There's only one road," he replied defensively. "How could I possibly be screwing it up?"
I decided it was best not to respond. The town wasn't far, and the others seemed, like me, content to travel in silence. Stiles' heart continued to race, so much so that I wondered whether he was alright. He tossed me a look every now and again, but I expertly avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes fixed on the black desert.
Roughly fifteen minutes later we had arrived, the silence getting more tense with every moment it stretched on. Thankfully the restless energy filling the car broke when the Jeep's headlights hit Scott and Braeden, both climbing from the church ruins, a body held between them.
We spilled from the car, rushing to meet them in the glow from the Jeep.'s headlights
I came to an abrupt stop before I reached them, my eyes shooting open wide as I took in the boy they were holding up.
"Is that him?" Malia asked, never having met Derek before now. My eyebrows shot up to my hairline, and I stared at the boy in shock. "Is that Derek?"
"Uh, sort of," Stiles replied hesitantly, and with a quiet groan the boy lifted his head, revealing himself to be Derek Hale – give or take a decade or so. He stared at us through clouded, confused green eyes, before they rolled back into his head and he went limp. His heart continued to beat steadily from within his chest, so that was something. "How the hell is this possible?"Stiles demanded in shock.
"Dark magic, ancient ritual, demon deal," I murmured back flatly. "Take your pick."
"It isn't safe out here," Braeden said sharply, dark eyes scanning the shadows suspiciously. "You need to leave. Now."
"Get him in the car," Scott instructed, and the others all rushed to do as they were told. I remained back, watching everything with careful eyes. Braeden remained by me, a wary sort of look on her face as we stared at the others feeding baby-Derek into the backseat of the Jeep.
"What're your plans?" I asked her quietly.
She threw her shotgun over her shoulder, holding it there like it were a staff. "I was paid to kill something," she said darkly, scanning the darkness again like she'd suddenly find what she was looking for. "I can't leave until it's done."
"Need a hand?" I offered lightly, though my stomach may as well have been filled with lead.
"From a vampire?" she asked with a scowl. "Definitely not."
"Don't be racist," I said for the second time that night, but she didn't react. "I've got night vision and time to kill," I told her shortly. "You could use me." She didn't say anything, peering back at me through narrowed eyes, so I shot her a cheeky smile which only made her glare intensify.
"Come on, Jules!" Stiles called from where he was stood by the driver's side door. The others were all piled in the car, squished together thanks to the extra body. "We've gotta go."
The lead in my stomach seemed to triple in weight, and I grimaced. I glanced over at Braeden, who looked like the last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with me, but she gave a curt nod and spun around, marching back towards the church.
I sighed, squaring my shoulders and crossing the distance between Stiles and I. My mouth was open before I'd chosen words to say, as a result no sound came out, so I promptly shut it again.
Pain glittered in the human's eyes. "You're not coming with us," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I have a debt to honour," I said quietly, creating the illusion of privacy, as though every supernatural piled into the Jeep couldn't hear what we were saying anyway. I grit my teeth against the predictable onslaught of pain at my own words. "I can't just run back to Beacon Hills with you," I told him regretfully. "No matter how much I might want to," I added quietly, my eyes focused on the dusty ground, not wanting him to see the honesty in my gaze.
"I want you to."
My eyes burned, and I bit down on my tongue until the sting disappeared. His heart raced, the sound nervous and familiar. I wanted to curl into him, press my ear to his chest and feel it beat under his skin, so very much alive.
"You're making the wrong choice," he said as strongly as he could manage.
"I know," I replied with a nod of pained acceptance. "But this is the way it has to be. For both of our sakes."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
I laughed, but the sound was borderline hysterical. "I'm not saying I'll never come back," I told him in a whisper, looking up from the ground and meeting his shining caramel eyes. "I'm just saying not right now." He nodded, and my insides twinged as I caught the wet sheen to his gaze.
"I hate goodbyes," he said thickly, hands balled into fists.
"How do you feel about 'see you laters'?"
He chuckled, the sound broken. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly before opening them and meeting my gaze. "If you don't show up soon, I'll come looking," he swore suddenly. He wouldn't be able to find me if I didn't want to be found, but the sentiment was sweet.
"I don't doubt you will."
"Juliet!" Braeden prompted me impatiently, but I didn't glance back.
"I'll see you later, Stiles," I said sincerely, the words hurting like a bitch.
His jaw twitched, and he looked to be struggling to keep control of himself. "I'll see you later, Jules."
I longed to close the gap between us and press my lips to his, but I wasn't sure that could ever happen again. With a look of agony in his wonderful eyes, Stiles forced himself to spin around and march back to the Jeep, yanking open the door and sliding into the driver's seat, staring the engine and sharply swinging the car around.
And if I thought facing him had been bad, it was nothing compared to watching him drive away.
A/N: Hello to all my beautiful, wonderful readers. I know it's been a long time; I was experiencing some personal crises, and have also been putting a lot of my time and energy into other projects which will, eventually, make their way to you. But now I'm back with renewed passion and vigour, ready to make you cry, laugh, and then cry again.
I hope you liked this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. I know things seem bleak, but have hope that Jules and Stiles will always find their way back to each other, no matter the circumstance.
I love you all, let me know what you want to see from Season 4! xx
