Back from the edge

Back from the dead

Back before demons took control of my head

Back to the start

Back to my heart

Back to the boy who would reach for the stars

Back From the Edge – James Arthur


Compared to the fresh stuff, bagged blood might as well have been liquid dirt. Still, it kept me alive, and it was definitely better than nothing; so though I loathed it, I still drank it down like a champ.

Once I'd been on it for a few months my tastebuds would adjust and it would be more bearable. Until then I just had to hold my breath and drink until I felt more myself.

I returned to my old hobbies, reading endless novels and listening to smooth, comforting jazz. It wasn't as fun as sex, drugs and rock & roll, but it kept me calm and sane, making the hours pass slightly quicker than they otherwise might.

That particular night, the night after my tedious first day back at the high school, I decided to reread Frankenstein. It was a classic, and one of my many favourites. I sipped blood that I'd poured into a wine glass in an attempt to feel normal and classy (it wasn't working).

I was only up to chapter three before my cell phone began to ring, the tone sharp and unwelcome. I grimaced but answered it, tipping my head back against the armrest of my couch and staring up at my cracked ceiling.

"Hello?" I asked dully, licking my lips free of any stray blood.

"Jules?!" It was Lydia, and she sounded more than a little bit terrified; and when a Banshee sounded scared, that was when you began to panic.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, shooting up into a sitting position, relaxing my grip on the wineglass so I didn't shatter it and stain my rug with the blood it held. "Lydia, what's happening?"

"Where are you?" the girl asked in a rush.

"Home," I answered carefully. "Why? Where should I be?"

"The hospital," she responded shrilly. "You know the triple homicide?"

"Yeah?"

"The survivor, the son, he's at the hospital."

I paused, not understanding. "And?"

"And we – the deputy and I – found bodies in their house," she revealed in a panicked whisper, like she didn't want someone overhearing. "Jules, they aren't human."

I was already climbing to my feet, depositing my half drained glass on the coffee table flitting to the other side of the room, shoving my feet into a pair of comfortable boots that were sitting idle by the door. "Anyone else at the hospital?" I asked quickly, looking down to make sure I was properly dressed before yanking open my door and stepping out into the frosty night air. I could drive, but realistically, it would be faster just to run. I could do triple what my beaten up, stolen, vandalised car could handle in my sleep.

"Scott," she said worriedly.

"I'm on my way now," I replied, hanging up the phone and disappearing into the night. It felt amazing to be running at full speed, the soles of my shoes slapping against the concrete rhythmically, the sound almost a lullaby. The hospital was busy when I arrived, but nobody paid me any attention as I jogged into the reception area.

I sniffed, hoping to pick up on a scent, but I was overwhelmed by the sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with bagged, muted blood. I couldn't identify any scents at all, so I switched my focus to my ears, taking in the different sounds around me, trying to pinpoint Scott's unique heartbeat.

It wasn't easy to locate, I couldn't hear over the buzzing of activity flooding the hospital. It wasn't until I heard a familiar alpha's roar that I knew I'd found my target.

The elevators were too slow for my tastes, so I legged it up the stairs, bursting out onto the third floor, immediately accosted with the intoxicating scent of fresh blood.

I paused, blindsided and snarling with hunger.

Somebody had been hurt, but I knew I couldn't focus on that now. A woman was screaming, and I rounded the corner at full speed, coming to a screeching stop as I realised it was Melissa, sprawled across the floor, her scrubs caked red with blood.

"Melissa!" I yelled, appearing next to her abruptly enough to make her flinch.

Scott was fighting with a bloodied teen, but I was confident he had it handled. "Jules," his mom breathed, taking my offered hand, letting me pull her gently to her feet. "I'm alright," she insisted at my anxious expression. "Scott!" she exclaimed, and I turned around in time to see Scott slam into the wall and the other supernatural disappear around the corner.

I debated going after him, but Scott was my priority. "You good?" I yelled, shifting in front of the mother and son on the off chance it came back for more.

Scott didn't answer, more worried about his mom. "Are you okay?" he asked in concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she said again, breathing heavily as she held herself up on the bannister with shaky hands. "Go get that son of a bitch," she growled, and I smirked, shooting her a playful salute before shifting aside, letting Scott take point, jogging behind him, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the new supernatural.

"What is it?" I asked him loudly, pushing my way passed a startled looking nurse, keeping my lips sealed to hide my growing fangs.

"I thought you knew!" he called back, coming to a sudden stop, sniffing the air before bursting his way into the stairwell. I followed without hesitation, hurrying up the stairs after him, taking in the bloodied handprints lining the off-yellow walls. I held my breath, refusing to let myself get distracted.

"No idea!" I told him loudly, grasping onto the railing above me and using it to propel myself up, I landed catlike on the landing, lifting a leg and slamming the heel of my foot into the door, watching with unbridled satisfaction as the wood cracked and the whole thing burst outwards. There was a rush of chilled air, and Scott brushed passed me, diving out onto the roof and whirling around, looking for the unidentified supernatural.

"Stay back!" a voice yelled, and I leapt back, spinning to get a good look at the creature, blood coating his face and chest, a human kid struggling desperately in his too-tight grip.

"Put him down!" I demanded furiously, unrestrained as I let my eyes flood with blood, veins turning black as I curled my lips back, revealing pearly white, deadly sharp fangs.

"You don't need to do this!" Scott yelled, his own faced 'wolfed-out', as Stiles had once called it. His eyes glowed a luminescent red, and his fangs protruded indelicately from his mouth. "Whatever it is; whatever you are, we can help you!"

"No you can't!" the kid yelled back, multiple rows of yellowed, sharklike teeth glinting in the lights above. The human in his grip grunted, struggling harder in an attempt to get free. I stepped forwards slightly, edging closer, but he noticed, choking the human tighter, making him gasp for air, tearing at the creature's hand with desperation to get free; to get air into his lungs.

"Let us help you," Scott was begging now, so desperate to save the boy, who was only here in the first place because of him.

"Wendigos don't need help," he spoke through pained sobs, I could only imagine what he'd gone through, losing his family in the way he had. Maybe he wasn't the bad guy...maybe he was like me, and just couldn't control it. "We need food!" he cried, holding the human tighter.

"Listen to me!" I shouted desperately. "I know what it's like!"

"No you don't!" he snarled as he cried. "You can't!"

"I do," I insisted, my voice loud but at the same time calm, trying to keep him steady. "You can't control it, the need to feed overrides everything else, until all you can see is red. I get it." He sobbed again, and the human in his grip was beginning to turn a concerning shade of purple. "I can help," I told him despairingly. "More than anyone else here, I can help."

The Wendigo paused, head tilting and watery eyes shining as he seemed to briefly consider my offer. Hope hit me, hope that maybe this wouldn't end in tragedy. Maybe somebody else like me could find redemption.

Unfortunately, the human took this opportunity to act, rearing back enough to get a good angle, then digging his teeth into the Wendigo's arm. It let him go with an enraged shout, and Scott moved impressively quickly, leaping up onto the risen block of concrete they stood on, but not before the Wendigo threw the human across the space, sending him catapulting over the edge.

Like Scott, I knew I had to move quickly. While the teen wolf went for the human in an attempt to keep him from plummeting to his death, I leapt at the Wendigo, aiming a kick at it's legs, taking them out from under him.

He hit the ground with a heavy thud, but that didn't stop him. He was fast, faster than a werewolf at any rate, and in an instant he was back on his feet, throwing himself at me with everything he had, eyes glinting like a maddened animal, jaws snapping dangerously.

I ducked his sloppy hits, but while I had clarity and logic on my side, he had pure, animalistic instinct, and he managed to clamp his teeth down on my shoulder.

"Mother-" I began to curse, wrenching myself back and landing a kick to his middle. He was in a frenzy, switching his attack from me to Scott in an instant.

"Jules!" Scott cried out from where he was half hung over the ledge.

"I'm working on it," I grumbled furiously, throwing myself at the Wendigo. The kid was in a frenzy, running on pure instinct and frenzy. He was incredibly strong, but that was no doubt because of the extra adrenaline in his system. I had focus on him, a human kid's life was at stake, I knew that, but when I heard footsteps from behind us and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, I had no choice but to whirl around, just in time to get stabbed through the gut.

I blinked in shock, tilting my head down to stare at the weapon imbedded in my abdomen. It was a pickaxe, rusted but sharp, though luckily not coated with any vervain.

I look up, the man behind the attack was what threw me. He was tall, bald, and completely lacking a mouth; smooth, unbroken skin covered the spot where his lips should have been. He reminded me of something, but with an axe in my stomach it was a little hard to recall from where.

He stepped forwards, grabbing the handle of the axe and yanking it unceremoniously from my gut, blood spilling out after it like water from a water gun. I dropped to my knees, cursing loudly as I reached up to cover the hole, my own blood trickling down over my fingers.

There were loud sounds from behind me, a few agonised screams, a werewolf's roar and a wet thud before more blood – this time not my own – drifted on the air.

I leaned down, collecting my strength slowly but surely. Finally, when the world stopped spinning, I looked up, blurry eyes catching sight of the mouthless man pressing a finger to the spot where his lips ought to have been, then stepping around the corner and disappearing from sight.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked myself, pressing my forehead to the ground.

"You alright Jules?" Scott asked, appearing beside me, crouched low to the ground so we were level with one another.

"Give it a minute and we'll reassess," I grunted, the stream of blood from my gut slowly beginning to die off, the skin tediously knitting itself back together. "Think the human would mind if I tapped a vein?" I asked, half kidding as I groaned, taking Scott's offered hand and allowing him to gently drag me to my feet. I glanced over at the Wendigo, realising with a blow to the heart that he was dead, an axe wound left, clear as day, in the middle of his back.

"That might be a problem," the alpha murmured quietly, and I put my emotions aside with a pained wince and looked over at the kid, now collapsed against the wall, gripping a bleeding arm in pain, staring up at the pair of us like we were aliens. "I'm not so sure he is human anymore." He was swimming with guilt, I could tell, watching him as he stared down at his new beta in with regret.

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed, whirling around to slap the teen wolf in the chest, exasperated outrage painted across my face.

"What was I supposed to do? Let him die?" he asked, sounding stressed out of his mind. I sighed heavily, reaching up to rub at my eyes before remembering my hands were coated with blood. "Jules, what are we supposed to do?" he sounded meek, for once actually appearing to be his age.

"We can't stay here, this place will be crawling with cops in no time," I murmured, something of a plan forming in my head. "But we can't let him leave, either."

"So...what, then?"

"Meet me at your house," I told him quietly, watching the young boy closely as he stared up at us in terror. I realised my fangs were still out and quickly retracted them, turning back to Scott.

"We need Stiles," Scott insisted, and I had to admit that I agreed. "The people inside can't see you like this," he added, gesturing to my bloodied clothes and the gaping wound on my shoulder from where the Wendigo bite had yet to heal. "Go to the back of the hospital; I need to go check on my mom first, but I'll meet you there," he said gently, keeping his voice low so as to not alert the kid to our plans. "Hold him until I get there, then you run and find Stiles and bring him to mine."

"What are you going to do with him in the meantime?" I asked quietly.

Scott looked weary. "Occupy him," he answered vaguely. Sirens pierced the night air, heading this way – somebody had no doubt seen the bloodied Melissa and called the police.

"We need to move," I prompted the alpha, who swallowed but nodded quickly.

He shot the kid I knew to be Liam a worried stare, the kid's heart racing from within his chest, his scent tinged with obvious terror. With a final glance at me, Scott disappeared into the hospital, leaving Liam to stare up at me in panic, probably wondering if I was about to murder him.

"Come on, kid," I told him, reaching down to grasp his bitten arm, yanking him none-too-gently to his feet. He cried out in fear, trying to wrench himself away from me, but I was too strong, my grip too tight. Quickly, I began to drag him over to the opposite side of the roof. He struggled, but I slapped a hand over his lips to keep him from screaming.

I leant over the edge, glancing down at the loading dock behind the hospital. It was clear of people, empty as everybody was no doubt busy with the Wendigo's casualties. Satisfied I stepped back, wrapping one arm around Liam who was shaking like a Goddamn leaf.

"Please don't throw up," I begged him softly. His eyes widened in alarm, but he could say nothing as I stepped off the edge, letting us free fall to the ground. The rush of wind made my hair a mess, but I was used to it, and I landed with all the grace of a cat, keeping an arm around Liam to hold him steady.

Thankfully he didn't puke, which I appreciated, and I was quick to yank him into the woods bordering the hospital, slipping behind a tree just as an ambulance pulled up outside the loading bay doors.

"What are you-?" Liam attempted to ask, his voice far too loud, so I once more slapped my hand over his mouth, muffling his cries as I shoved him violently up against a tree, peaking around the trunk and watching the doors closely, impatiently waiting for Scott to appear.

The new wolf continued to struggle, his heart beating so fast that I wondered whether it would fail before he could properly transition. "If I take my hand off, will you keep quiet?" I asked carefully, meeting his blue eyes. He didn't answer, but I figured he got the picture.

I slipped my hand from his mouth, and not a second later he was shouting, "help!"

I covered his mouth again, steadily growing impatient. "Do I need to knock you unconscious?" I asked him with false calm, meeting his eyes again, making my own glint their bloody red. His heart stuttered in terror and he struggled more violently, desperate to escape. "Oh, fuck it," I muttered, giving up and grabbing his head, unceremoniously slamming it into the tree trunk behind him.

His eyes flittered shut and he slumped onto me, unconscious.

Scott appeared not a minute later to find Liam splayed in a rather undignified position on the forest floor, me standing above him, a lazy sort of look to my relaxed features. "What the hell did you do to him?" the alpha demanded in a panic.

"He wouldn't stop struggling," I explained, attention only half on the conversation as I twisted around, trying to get a good look at the bite on my shoulder.

"So you knocked him unconscious?"

"You left me in charge, and I made an executive decision," I snapped irritably. I was sore, tired and hungry, but the night was still far from over. I wasn't in the mood to excuse my completely warranted behaviour to a sixteen year old kid. "Don't tell me it isn't easier this way."

Scott sighed, apparently too overwhelmed to bother arguing. "Go get Stiles," he instructed me, leaning down to pick the new beta up, throwing him over his shoulder as gently as he possibly could. "Fill him in, and then get him to tell his dad about what happened. But whatever happens, John can't know Liam was up there," he said quickly and seriously, telling me how important this detail was. "Meet at my house as soon as you can."

"You're the boss," I muttered. It may have sounded sarcastic, but it was wholly true, and I felt happy saying it. The circumstances may not have been ideal, but I was more than happy for things to be back to their regular ways; bloody clothes, unconscious kidnap victims and all.

We went in separate directions, Scott heading to his house while I went to Stiles'. The run helped clear my head, though it certainly didn't help my hunger. I remained ravenous, though there was little I could do about it. I'd have a chance to feed later, for now, I needed to deal with the new problem that had arisen in Beacon Hills.

The Stilinski household was empty of anyone but Stiles, the Sheriff no doubt out on the call to the hospital. Still, I didn't have a right to go barging inside, not anymore, so I knocked loudly at the front door, hands twisting together anxiously as I waited for Stiles to answer.

His first reaction to seeing me was to widen his eyes, blinking at my face in shock before he stared at the rest of me, a horrified, dejected look on his face. Confused I followed his line of sight, wincing when I realised I hadn't stopped to clean off the blood.

"Most of it's mine," I assured him quickly, the thought that he might think me a murderer again was like acid in my gut.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Get inside, before the neighbours see you and call the cops," he added, reaching out to grab my arm and yank me inside. His touch was like an electric shock, but I caught my breath as he shut the door behind us, quickly letting me go. "Come on," he said with a huff, beginning to head up the stairs. "You need to wash off the blood."

"There's no time," I told him quickly even as I followed him up to his room. "We need to get to Scott's."

"Why?" he asked, stepping into his bedroom and going for his chest of drawers, opening the top one and digging through his for a long minute before resurfacing with a handful of black fabric. I recognised them as my old clothes, a pair of jeans and a simple black tank top. "Go, wash off the blood and change – then you can explain what the hell is going on."

I did as I was told for once, slinking into the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror as the door swung shut behind me. I looked like something from a bad horror movie, a chunk missing from my shoulder and blood covering every inch of my visible skin. I winced, quickly stripping and then picking up the soap bar, wetting and scrubbing at my skin in an attempt to get clean.

The bloody water dripped onto the floor, but I figured I could wipe that off later. Finally I just decided to jump into the shower, keeping the water scolding hot as I finished scrubbing off, drying myself with Stiles' towel, holding my breath and trying not to get lost in his familiar, addictive scent.

I changed into my clothes, thinking with a sad smile that it was rather marvellous that he'd kept them even after I'd disappeared. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

I reappeared in his room, taking a seat on his bed and watching as he stood by the window, staring out at the night with a wistful kind of expression on his face. Realising he didn't know I was there, I cleared my throat, and he jumped violently, whirling around to glare at me in annoyance. He opened his mouth, probably to make a comment about me wearing a bell or something I'd heard him say a thousand times before, but he promptly shut his mouth, instead frowning at me, spying the open wound on my exposed shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, padding across the room on bare feet until he got to me, then took a seat on the bed beside me. The close proximity made my breath hitch, I could feel the heat of his body from where I sat, but I kept my face carefully devoid of emotion, giving nothing away.

This was made more difficult when he reached up, his fingertips gently brushing against the smooth, unblemished skin surrounding the wound. My stomach muscles coiled, and I bit my tongue and closed my eyes, enjoying the way his touch made chills shoot down my spine.

"Does it hurt?" he asked me quietly, his minty breath washing over my face.

"No," I answered numbly, looking up to meet his eyes. He was already staring at me, a look of concern and adoration in his eyes, one I didn't deserve. I didn't know what it meant, and I couldn't handle not having all the information, I couldn't handle not having the upper hand. I shrugged him off, shuffling back on the bed so there was enough space between us for me to be able to breathe.

"What's going on?" he asked, frowning at the way I recoiled, but thankfully not mentioning it. "What happened?"

"It's a very long story," I told him, deciding I was still too close – particularly considering how hungry I was. His scent swam around me like hot air on a summer day. I stood to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and pacing away from him, heading towards the window.

"What's the short version?" he asked, his voice oddly hollow. I didn't look back to see if his face matched.

"The homicides were done by a man without a mouth, the family was actually a den of Wendigos, and the night ended with Scott biting that Liam kid, who is now halfway through transition."

Stiles was absolutely silent, no sound but his racing heart filling the room. Reluctantly I turned around, meeting his bewildered stare. "Explain," he said slowly. "In detail."

I sighed, not particularly wanting to relive it but knowing it was important that Stiles knew. "And Scott thinks your dad should know – but whatever you do, don't mention Liam was there," I finished quickly. "If you do, he'll want to question him, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Stiles nodded, considering everything I'd said. "Where's Liam now?" he asked calmly.

"Scott has him at his house," I told him with a shrug that pulled uncomfortably at my still-healing wound. "Which is where we should be heading right now."

Stiles nodded, the action absent, like he wasn't completely in the room. I understood it was a lot to process, so I remained quiet, waiting for him to come to terms with what I had told him. He suddenly stood, marching over to his drawers and fishing out a green plaid shirt and holding it out to me with a steady hand.

I looked at it uncomprehendingly.

"You can't walk around town with a chunk missing from your shoulder," he told me with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "Cover it up before someone thinks it's the start of the zombie apocalypse," he added, pale lips quirked up in a small smirk that didn't match the haunted look in his eyes. Tentatively, like I was afraid he would rescind the offer, I took the shirt from his hand, resisting the urge to bury my nose in it and instead threading my arms through the sleeves. It was big, falling around my small, thin frame like a blanket. It was warm and soft, and I subtly burrowed into it, letting it's comfort encase me.

I glanced up, looking at Stiles closely. His face was scrunched up, and I would have given anything in that moment to be able to read his mind.

"Come on," he said unexpectedly, spinning around and swiping his keys from where they lay at the top of his dresser. "We need to get to Scott's before he panics and does something stupid. Again."

I followed him down the stairs, slipping out into the night and watching as he locked the house behind him. He pulled out his phone, already dialling his dad as he moved over to his Jeep and unlocked it. I paused, noting that he was on the wrong side of the car, over by the passenger side – did he expect me to drive?

My questions were answered when he cracked open the passenger door, stepping aside and motioning me to sit inside. Bemused by the action, I couldn't help but smile faintly, my lips tipped upwards in affection as I slipped past him, climbing up onto the seat and watching as he gently closed the door after me, walking around to the other side and getting in behind the wheel.

We remained idle as he spoke to his dad, relaying the (mostly true) story to the Sheriff, who, from what I could hear, sounded relieved to know what had really happened. He hung up, conveniently not mentioning he was heading over to Scott's, or that I was with him.

The Jeep started with a familiar rumble, and for one blissful moment it was like nothing had ever happened, like everything was as it was two months ago, like our world and our relationship hadn't dropped out from under us so violently that we were still painstakingly gluing ourselves back together.

The moment ended all too soon, an unwelcome awkwardness creeping between us in the silence. Stiles reached forwards, turning on the stereo so that some kind of music filled the car, all drums and ukuleles, and I let the music wash over me as I dove.

I wasn't sure where we stood, but it was nice not to have the pressure of figuring it out, instead I could bask in Stiles' company, inhaling his scent, once more getting desensitised to it's appeal. It got harder the longer we sat, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"Mind if I put the window down?" I asked gently, my only words since getting in. He didn't answer, seeming to instantly understand as he flicked a button and my window rolled down, blissfully fresh air smashing into my face. I inhaled the clean air with relief.

When he pulled up outside the McCall residence, Scott was already waiting on the porch, the front door wide open, his silhouette glowing in the light from the inside. He reeked of anxiety, and even Stiles noticed his worry as we climbed from the Jeep and met him at the door.

"Are the police at the hospital yet?" Scott asked anxiously, heavy brow knitted together in concern. "Does your dad know?"

"I told him everything I could," Stiles replied as he followed his best friend into the house. I entered after, closing the door softly behind me, making sure it was locked, just because recent events had me somewhat paranoid.

"But you didn't tell him about Liam?"

"I was barely told about Liam," he retorted with little patience. "What'd you do with him, anyway?"

"...he's upstairs," Scott said awkwardly, pausing at the foot of the staircase.

"Doing what?"

"Um..." the werewolf trailed off, his heart stuttering in his chest. "Lying down?" It definitely sounded more like a question than an answer.

"C'mon teen wolf," I prompted Scott impatiently. "Fess up, is the kid still knocked out?"

Stiles whirled around to pin me with a glare. "You knocked him unconscious?" he demanded with narrowed, frustrated eyes. Clearly he disapproved.

"He wouldn't stop screaming for help," I explained through a frown, and Stiles face-palmed, turning the action into another as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

"So?" he finally asked a restless Scott, sighing as he dropped his hands. "Where is he?"

"Uh..." Scott hummed, looking anxious. I tilted my head, listening for other sounds in the house, easily picking up the new werewolf's racing heart from where he was located somewhere upstairs. "It's probably easier if I just show you," the alpha finally murmured, turning around and marching up the staircase, leaving Stiles and I with nothing to do but follow.

He led us through to the bathroom which was built adjoined to his room. I was confused as I listened to the terrified sounds of heavy breathing got louder and louder the closer we got to the tub. Finally Stiles could hear it too, throwing me a bewildered look as he reached out, pulling back the shower curtain and revealing Liam, eyes wide in fright, bound with an excessive amount of duct tape. He tried to talk, but the words were muffled and unintelligible from under the piece of tape sitting firmly over his lips.

Stiles sighed heavily, the sound somewhere in the middle of defeated and exasperated. He shook his head like he was disappointed in Scott, closing his eyes as though praying for strength before reaching up and slowly drawing the curtain closed again. I stepped back into Scott's room, making space for the boys to follow through, each taking a seat on the end of the alpha's bed while I perched myself on his desk, crossing one leg over the other and resting my chin in my palm, watching them and quietly pondering the predicament we found ourselves in.

"...so you bit him," Stiles stated flatly, hands twisted together as he stared at the wall, lost in thought.

"Yeah," Scott breathed, still kind of in shock.

"...and you kidnapped him."

"Yeah."

"And you brought him here."

"I panicked."

"...this isn't going to end with us burying the pieces of his body out in the desert, is it?"

I smirked widely, bringing my hand up to subtly cover the movement, listening with amusement as Liam protested as much as he currently could from within the bathroom, bound and gagged as he was.

"As a reminder, this is why I always come up with the plans," Stiles said sternly, no doubt irritated by how difficult Scott had made things. If the kid wasn't a supernatural, I'd offer to compel him and we'd all be on our way to tea, but instead we were stuck with a transitioning werewolf bound by duct tape in Scott's tub, no way of making him forget this had ever happened. "Your plans suck."

"I know," Scott whispered back. "That's why I got Jules to get you." There was a pause, Stiles frowning irritably and Scott staring back hopefully. "So, what do we do?" he asked tentatively.

Stiles was quiet for a few long moments, no doubt piecing together something of a plan in that beautiful brain of his. "I think we need to just set him down and lay it all out for him," the Sheriff's son said confidently, nodding his head like he was agreeing with his own statement.

"How do we do that?" Scott asked carefully.

"We tell him the truth."

Scott looked surprised at the seemingly simple solution. "The truth," he repeated, like the concept was a foreign one.

"I think the wolf needs a pep talk," I said, heading towards the bathroom, swiping the roll of duct tape from the dresser as I went. "I'll secure him to a chair," I added, using my free hand to grab Scott's desk chair, dragging it behind me.

"You could at least act a little freaked out by the whole 'kidnapping' thing, you know!" Stiles called after me, sounding annoyed. Despite this, I couldn't help but smile, the whole thing feeling brilliantly normal.

I drew open the curtain, revealing Liam who grunted from behind his gag, glaring up at me angrily.

"I'm gonna tape you to this chair," I warned him, and his glare got more venomous. "Alrighty," I muttered, reaching down and picking him up by the lapels of his shirt, lifting him with a single arm and placing him gently as I could in the chair. Liam seemed momentarily stunned by the display of strength, but obviously couldn't comment on it.

With deft hands I secured his wrists to the armrests, then his body to the back of the chair. He squirmed, apparently not keen to go down without a fight.

"Calm down," I ordered him with an irritated roll of my eyes. "It's for your own good, pup."

He seemed bewildered by the nickname, but again, couldn't say a word. Once I was done I hefted up the chair, carrying it over to the middle of Scott's bedroom and placing it down in front of the boys, who both looked different degrees of awkward.

"Okay," Stiles began, clapping his hands together like a preschool teacher, making Scott grimace. "Liam, we're going to take the tape off your mouth," he warned sternly. "If you scream, it goes right back on; you talk quietly, it stays off – got it?" The kid glared with his eyes, and the phrase 'if looks could kill' drifted through my mind before he reluctantly nodded, and with an unenthusiastic wince Stiles reached out and ripped the piece of tape from his mouth. Liam gave a painful grunt, his blue eyes flickering between each of us warily. "Okay Liam...now, you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight, and more confusing things are going to happen because of the confusing things that happened tonight," Stiles attempted to explain. "You understand?"

"Not really," Liam responded bitterly.

"I don't understand either," Scott muttered, but Stiles took it in stride.

"Maybe you should tell him," he said, patting his friend encouragingly on the chest.

"Me? Can't Jules tell him?" Scott sounded dangerously close to begging.

"Dude; your species, your problem," I threw in dryly.

"Not helping," Stiles all but sang, and I narrowed my eyes in irritation.

"Tell me what?!" Liam demanded angrily, interrupting the bickering before it could really begin and pulling our focus back to him.

Scott took a deep breath, preparing himself for the conversation to come. "Liam," he began, his heart speeding up anxiously. "What happened to you – what I did to you, which I had to do in order to save you – it's gonna change you."

"Unless it kills you," Stiles interjected, only to wince regretfully. "Shouldn't have said that..."

"Now who's not helping?" I mumbled snidely, and he turned to shoot me an unimpressed glare.

There was sniffle from the chair, and we all swung around to stare at the frightened child who had apparently begun to weep. "Uh-oh," Stiles muttered in horror. "Is he-is he crying?" he stumbled over the word, blinking in shock as we watched the kid tear up. "Juliet, you're a girl," he said, turning around to pin me with a hopeful look.

"No way – I can't deal with tears," I replied sharply. "That's where I draw the fucking line."

Stiles looked like he badly wanted to snap back, but Scott was already kneeling down by the crying kid's side. "Liam, it's okay – you're going to be alright," the alpha assured him soothingly. "You're not gonna die."

"Probably not," Stiles interjected, crouching down to their level.

"Would you stop?"

"Possibly."

"Would you just help me untie him?"

I stood back, uncomfortable as I watched the freshman sniffle pathetically. Scott and Stiles made quick work of the duct tape, and a beat later Liam was standing to his feet, head bowed lowly.

"Liam, are you okay?" Scott asked despairingly.

"We're sorry about...uh, we're really sorry," Stiles stumbled his way through an apology.

"We're only doing what's best," I added gently, though I knew that would be hard to convince him of. The kid turned away, and for a moment I thought it was because he wanted privacy to sob, but suddenly he grabbed the chair I'd tied him to, throwing it at Scott with impressive force, causing the alpha to collapse.

"Liam? What the hell is your prob-"

The pup cut Stiles off with a rough punch to the face, sending him careening to the floor. I stepped away, blinking in surprise at how fast it had all happened. He stared at me with wide eyes, and, bewildered, I raised my hands in surrender. With a relieved sigh he slipped passed me, darting into the hallway.

"What? Jules? Get him!" Stiles complained loudly.

"What am I meant to do? Knock him out again?" I asked with a frown. Something told me that, for once, violence wasn't the answer.

Scott and Stiles tripped out into the hall sloppily. "Get him!" I heard Stiles bellow, and I raised my eyebrows as I followed after them, pausing at the top of the stairs, watching as they tackled him down them, landing with muted thuds on the wooden floor.

There was a scuffle at the foot of the stairs, but Liam was quick, darting out into the night. I sighed, rubbing my temples and taking a seat on the steps, back rested up against the wall.

"Your plan sucked too," Scott muttered to Stiles sourly, both left staring at the open door.

Stiles whirled around to pin me with a glare. "Go get him!" he ordered me, and I shook my head.

"It'll only freak him out more," I said with outstanding patience. "Give him time. Once he starts noticing his new abilities, he'll come to us."

"He'd better," Scott murmured, staring pensively out into the night. "Or we're going to have a serious problem on our hands."


A/N: Hey guys! Hope you like this one, things are beginning to get back to normal. Happiness and fluff is on the horizon!

Also, if you guys could go check out the poll on my profile? That would be awesome! I'd love some feedback. Love you all! xo