As I look out my bedroom window

I see all the chaos that's calling me

So the wind blows wherever it will go

It's all too much for me

All of this emptiness I've been sharing

It never comes when I want it to

I can be anything I've forgiven

Me and you, me and you

Bedroom Window – The Pretty Reckless


Stiles offered to drive me home, which was unnecessary, but highly welcomed. I tried not to seem too eager as I accepted, hopping into his Jeep and letting the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar fill the space between us as it drifted from the radio.

"Listen," he began, surprising me. I'd had my face turned away, half buried in the plaid shirt I'd borrowed from him, inconspicuously basking in his intoxicating scent. I spun around to look at him, trying not to look guilty. He was staring at the road, not seeming to have noticed. "Tomorrow's the full moon, and Malia...well, she could use a hand with it."

I paused, waiting for him to continue, but he seemed to be finished. "What does that have to do with me?" I asked in confusion.

"Well, I thought you could spend the day with her, let her know she isn't alone."

"Why me?"

"Because you're a girl," he said, and my curious expression morphed into a glare. "All I mean is, she could use a female friend, and you guys are scarily similar sometimes. I think it would be good for the two of you to...bond," he told me, seeming perfectly sincere.

"I don't know how much use a vampire will be to a were-coyote..." I trailed off.

"You've experienced similar things," he admitted, his voice dropping to a quiet hum, his heart speeding up in his chest. "You've both...killed before," he seemed to have trouble saying it, and though the mention made me grimace, I knew he had a point. "Look," he said, trying a new tactic. "She's coming over in the morning to grab a ride to school, we're gonna go over the preparations then." I was silent, waiting for more. "You could...come?"

I considered it. I wanted to spend time with Stiles, and Malia seemed like someone I could end up liking, I supposed. The two of them seemed to have become close friends in the time I'd been away, and if I wanted to catch up, I knew I had to get to work.

"Okay," I agreed easily. "I'll come over in the morning."

"Great," he nodded, looking abruptly uncomfortable. "Good."

He pulled up outside my house, and I shot him a gentle smile. "Until then, Stiles," I said softly, staring at him, noting the way his eyes shone in the moonlight.

"U-until then," he parroted, and with a final smile I climbed from the Jeep, deciding that I would keep his shirt until he asked me to give it back – a day I hoped would never come.

I didn't sleep that night, too wired from the day before to bother trying. I went through five blood bags before I took an hour long bath and read two novels, listening to jazz until the sun came up, and then laying into my punching bag until it was time to get to Stiles'.

I still had time to kill, so I stopped off at the local coffeeshop, ordering three piping hot coffees (plus an empty one which I then filled with blood) and collecting them before strolling to the Stilinski household. Someone was in the shower when I arrived, another in the kitchen. Clearing my throat for no real reason and running a self-conscious hand through my hair, I knocked on the door, waiting impatiently until the Sheriff pulled it open, blinking down at me in shock.

"Juliet?" he asked like he didn't quite believe it was me.

"Howdy, Sheriff," I greeted him pleasantly, shooting him my most convincing smile, hoping that if I acted like I didn't feel awkward, eventually the sensation might go away. "I brought coffee," I said, brandishing my tray of beverages. He eyed them like he was pondering whether I'd dosed them with something, and I took one out, holding it out to him enticingly. "Black and strong, just how you like it," I said sweetly, pretending like my whole sense of self-worth didn't depend on how he reacted.

He finally took the cup, sniffing it cautiously before taking a sip, nodding to himself then pausing. "I don't know whether I should invite you in, or..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

"You only have to do it the once," I told him, the conversation starkly reminiscent of when he'd first discovered what I was.

"Right," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee, the look in his eyes suggesting he was deep in thought. Finally he stepped aside, gesturing my inside his home. I stepped over the threshold, stopping in the entryway and letting him close the door after me. He turned to face me, and we were silent for a few long moments, both watching each other, wondering what to say. "You were gone," he eventually said, staring at me closely from over his coffee cup.

"I was," I agreed morosely, nodding my head once, keeping my eyes on him.

"It nearly destroyed him," he stated, and it wasn't hard to guess who he meant. Guilt churned in my gut, heavy and painful, like lead dipped in molten lava. "He didn't always show it – but I could tell, I could see it in his eyes."

"It was what was best," I told him, noting that I was beginning to sound like a broken record. He took another careful sip of coffee, eyeing me contemplatively. "I regret leaving," I admitted gently. "But it had to be done."

"And you're back now?" he questioned sharply. "For good?"

"Yes."

"How can I trust that?"

I didn't have an answer, but I didn't look away, merely staring back as strongly as I could, guiltily wishing I could use compulsion, then hating myself for the urge.

"Why are you back?" he tried a different question this time.

"Because I want to be here, more than anything. This has become my home."

"And you're...better, now?" he asked, referring to my slip in control.

I winced, finally unable to hold his stare, ashamed as I focused my eyes on a scuff in the floor. "I'll always be a vampire, Sheriff," I said boldly, keeping my eyes on our feet, finding it impossible to look up, too afraid of what I might see if I did. "If there was a way to change that, I would."

"Do you want to get back together with my son?"

"I want to be in his life," I responded evenly, reluctantly forcing my eyes up to meet his stare. "Whatever form that takes, so be it."

John nodded, careful and considering. Footsteps sounded on the floor above us, and I looked up at the staircase in time for Stiles to trip into view, hair wet and dressed in jeans and a simple blue shirt. "Dad, who're you talking-" he began, only to cut himself off when he met my gaze.

"Good morning," I greeted him gently. "I brought coffee," I added, holding up the tray of drinks and giving them a little shake, hoping the action didn't seem awkward.

"Right," John murmured, eyes flickering between the two of us thoughtfully. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He turned and marched into the next room, and Stiles was quiet for a beat before waving me after him.

"Come on," he said, and in the blink of his eyes I was waiting by his bedroom door, one of the coffees held out for him. He started in surprise, then swallowed and began forwards, taking the cup from me with a muttered thanks and heading into his room. "Sleep well?" he asked conversationally, leaving the door open as he moved over to his desk.

"No," I answered honestly.

Stiles snorted in bitter amusement. "Yeah," he muttered. "Me neither."

I wanted to ask more; was he having night terrors? Did he feel ill? Was his insomnia back? Was something worrying him? But before I could voice any of these questions, there was a noise in the leaves outside the house, and I froze, listening as someone began to scale the wall.

"Um, somebody's climbing your wall," I said confusedly, wondering if I should have been concerned.

"That'll be Malia," he nodded, and in the next moment the were-coyote was pushing up the window, slipping into the room and landing deftly on the carpet. Although it didn't put me at ease to know Malia had apparently made a habit of this, I still smiled at her as warmly as I could, offering her the remaining coffee.

She took it warily, sipping it tentatively before sniffing the air.

"Why do I smell blood?" she asked bluntly, a suspicious glint in her dark eyes.

I lifted the final coffee cup with a forced smirk. "That'd be my breakfast," I said as lightly as I could, and though Malia gave a disgusted grimace, she thankfully didn't comment. "I hear you're having some trouble with the moon," I began, hoping forced conversation might clear the awkward from the room.

"Yeah," she said sharply. "What's it to you?"

"I know what it's like to not be in control of yourself like that," I said gently, keeping my eyes firmly on her, refusing to look over at Stiles although I could feel the weight of his stare on the side of my face. "I thought that, maybe, you could use a friend."

She only seemed to grow more wary at the prospect.

"Plus, the number of people I can call friends has significantly dropped recently," I admitted, chin tilted up to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I could use a friend, myself."

She watched me through narrowed eyes before finally grunting and taking a seat on Stiles' bed. I noticed Stiles heft a huge duffel bag from the floor, sitting on the bed next to her and plopping it between them.

"What's in this bag of goodies, then?" I asked, drawing Stiles' desk chair closer to them, straddling it comfortably and holding my cup of blood in one hand, the other reaching into the bag to pull out a thick chain, testing the weight with an impressed hum.

"I hate full moons," Malia muttered sourly, eyeing the shackles with heavy contempt.

"It's gonna get easier, I promise," Stiles assured her, holding a neck restraint in steady hands.

"It better," she said, taking the thing from him and holding it up, assessing it closely. "'Cause this isn't gonna hold much longer," she added, pointing to the tear in the fabric.

"I've got some you can use," I offered, swinging slightly on the chair.

"Why do you have restraints?" Malia asked confusedly. "You're not a werewolf."

"Kind of a funny story-" I began conversationally, twisting one of the chains around my hand, but Stiles cleared his throat and I glanced over, noting his stern look telling me in no uncertain terms to not tell Malia about my days as a BDSM torture mistress in France back in the seventies. "Actually, it's not that funny," I backtracked, dropping the chain and clearing my throat. "But they'll definitely fit you – I'll bring them tonight," I promised her, and she nodded though the curious glint to her eyes remained.

"Yeah, well, we might need them for Liam," Stiles added, gesturing for her to hold out a hand, beginning to wrap the restraint around her wrist as a test.

"You guys sure he's going to turn into a werewolf?" she asked.

"We're not even sure he's going to live," he replied morbidly, yanking at the chains firmly. "Is that too tight?" he asked softly.

"No," she shook her head.

"You'll want them tight," I warned gently. "Trust me, it's gonna be rough-"

I realised there was a heart beating from behind us and turned, blinking innocently at the Sheriff who stood in the doorway, eyeing the three of us in wary disgust. "Hey, um-" Stiles began awkwardly, glancing from between the two of us girls to the thick chains we had wrapped around Malia's wrists. "This-this is not what you think. At all."

"I don't even wanna know," John decided, abruptly turning and leaving the room.

"There's nothing to know!" Stiles called out after his father.

"I don't get it," Malia murmured.

"It's because-" I attempted to explain through an unbridled smirk.

"We-we don't need to go into that," Stiles shook his head, miming a cutting motion at his throat, cheeks a familiar, blotchy red.

Pausing, I turned to Malia. "I'll explain later," I promised with a cheeky wink that Stiles missed, and though still confused, she nodded, allowing the blushing human to tug the restraints from her arm and toss them back into the bag. "So, what's the plan, exactly?" I questioned, leaning back in my chair and cocking a brow at Stiles curiously.

"Lydia's family's lake house," he revealed, snatching the remaining restraints from my hand and stuffing them into the duffel bag, zipping it up loudly. "We've been using it for the last two full moons. It's away from the town, so nobody can overhear the screams."

"That's always a plus," I agreed. We were quiet for a moment, and Stiles took the opportunity to check his bag was properly packed. "Do you think a were-coyote bite is like a werewolf bite? Would it be fatal on a full moon?" I pondered aloud, turning my stare to Malia, who blinked back owlishly.

"I have no idea," he replied, fishing through his backpack. "But I'm not willing to test out the theory, so we'll be taking extra precautions, particularly since Liam will likely be joining us on our little night trip," he added with a sour grimace.

"What do you do with were-coyote over here?" I asked, but Malia only blinked, not seeming to mind that I wasn't directing the question at her.

"Basement," Stiles admitted, and I caught the grimace Malia gave in response to the answer. Clearly she was less than pleased with the arrangements. "Come on," he prompted us, shouldering his backpack and heading for the door. "We're gonna be late, and we have to find Liam and figure out what's happening."

"You mean whether he's dying or not," Malia stated bluntly.

"Yes, thank you, Malia," Stiles huffed in exasperation, rolling his eyes and holding the door open as he waved us both through. I let Malia go first, trailing behind and sipping my warmed blood, shooting Stiles a tiny, tentative smile as I passed.

The drive to school was made in relative silence. Malia wasn't a particularly talkative individual, and Stiles was too anxious to bother making conversation. I busied myself with listening to the radio and staring up at the sky, which was cloudy, like we were about to get a storm.

"Where is he?" Stiles asked before we'd even fully stepped onto the school grounds. Malia gave a rough grunt of a goodbye, heading off in the other direction with a determined look on her face. I turned to Stiles, raising an eyebrow.

"How should I know?" I asked defensively when he stared at me expectantly, holding onto the strap of my bag tightly.

"We need to find him," he said quickly. "He's either dying or turning, and either way, we're gonna have a mess to clean up."

Had Scott been there, a comment would have been made about Stiles' callousness, as it was, he was stuck with me, so I merely nodding acceptingly, grasping onto the strap of my bag and starting forwards across the quad.

"Are you prepared for that?" I asked curiously, my strides long and lazy while Stiles staggered after me clumsily.

"Prepared for what?" he asked distractedly, dodging out of the way of an oncoming senior.

"For Liam to die," I elaborated, and his steps faltered before picking up their uneven rhythm.

"It isn't like a know the kid," he said, shrugging his shoulders casually, only to grimace immediately after. I longed to know what had crossed his mind, but didn't dare ask, keeping my lips wisely sealed. "Did you catch his scent yet?" he questioned, and I could tell by the nervous stammer of his heart that he was attempting to change the subject.

I allowed it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "This way," I nodded, taking a sharp left into the building and speeding up. "He isn't far," I added, sniffing the air and cringing as I inhaled a new wolf's scent. I was desensitised to the current pack, this new addition would take some getting used to.

"If he does die, you'll know what to do with him?" he asked curiously, glancing over his shoulder warily.

"Depends," I hummed. "Are we talking 'body found' or 'no body found'?"

"For argument's sake, let's say 'body found'."

"Animal attack," I shrugged. "It's the easiest to fake. That or drowning."

"And 'no body found'?"

"Burn it, obviously," I rolled my eyes. "I honestly don't know why more serial killers don't do it," I added thoughtfully, pressing my lips together as I considered. "Great way to get rid of the physical evidence."

"Good thing we're talking in hypotheticals," the human muttered under his breath, and I had just turned around to question him when the sound of a racing, frantic heartbeat met my ears, along with the stench of the new wolf and a wave of reeking anxiety.

"Pup alert," I hissed to Stiles, who shot upright, spinning in a circle in a search for the freshman. "The hall over," I prompted him when he shot me his most helpless look. With a grunt he spun and took off, feet slapping against the floor. I followed at a more leisurely pace, running a hand casually through my hair as I rounded the corner, setting eyes on the two brothers cornering the younger kid between them.

"We need to talk!" Scott was saying sternly, and Liam's heart rate picked up even more.

"You need to back the hell up!" the freshman snapped back. "Both of you!"

"Can you just listen for one second?" Scott implored desperately. "Please?"

"No!" he growled, shoving Stiles out of the way and making a break for it. With an exasperated sigh I caught him by the shoulder, unceremoniously yanking him back into the otherwise empty hallway. He gave a startled yelp but thankfully fell slack in my hold.

"Hear him out, or I'll make your life a living hell," I warned lazily, keeping a supernaturally tight hold on his arm. Though he hesitated, he eventually nodded, a wary look on his boyish features.

"You can let him go," Scott assured me, and I tossed the kid a final warning glare before relaxing my grip. He pulled away, reaching up to rub at the place I'd no doubt bruised. Scott swallowed thickly, clearly struggling with what to say. I'd have offered my services, but I already had a were-coyote on my hands, I didn't feel like taking a wolf under my wing either, besides, if our last three encounters were anything to go by, it would take a lot more than a charming smile and a good pep talk to make him trust me. "Liam..." Scott began, and I stepped back to Stiles' side, being very careful not to let my skin brush his, "...we're brothers now."

There was a pregnant pause.

"What?"

"Oh God, that's..." Stiles groaned, hanging his head, probably giving up hope. I sucked in an exhausted breath, reaching up to press my fingers to my temples, hoping it would ease the impending headache of exasperation.

"What are you talking about?" Liam demanded impatiently. "We just met, and you bit me!"

"The bite...the bite is a gift," the alpha told him stiltedly, an awkward, pained sort of look on his face.

"Scott, stop." Clearly Stiles couldn't handle it any more than I could. "You," he said, pointing an angry finger at a scowling, confused Liam, "we are trying to help you, you little runt."

"By kidnapping me?" the youngster asked sarcastically.

"Just to clarify – Scott kidnapped you," Stiles murmured to the budding wolf, reaching up to awkwardly scratch at his face. "I...aided and abetted."

"Now's when you shut up," I hissed at him, and he nodded with a wince, knowing he was only making things worse.

"Liam," Scott said, distracting the infuriated looking kid. "I've gone through this before. Something's happening to you...something big."

"Nothing's happening to me," Liam insisted darkly. He held up his bitten arm, ruthlessly ripping off his bandage, revealing nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. "Nothing," he growled, but our eyes were drawn to his healed bite.

He turned to leave, but once again my arm snapped out, blocking his exit. He turned to me, no fear in his expression, but rather a daring, seething anger. I met his gaze unflinchingly, teeth grit together in frustration. I felt the urge to flash my bloody eyes, but Scott's voice stopped me.

"It's okay, Juliet," he said, his eyes focused on the new beta. "Let him go."

Although I didn't believe that to be the right call, I respected Scott's judgement and reluctantly removed my arm. With a dark glower Liam turned and strode away, hands balled into tight fists, held at his sides.

He disappeared around the corner, storming off like a child throwing a tantrum. "Great," Stiles sighed, running a hand through his brilliant hair. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?" he asked. "Full moon's in eight hours," he added, as though we needed reminding.

"Get the others," Scott instructed, still staring off after the kid, a worried look in his brown eyes. "We need to come up with a plan."

"I'll get Malia and Kira, they have Bio together," Stiles said quickly, turning and beginning to head away. "Jules, go get Lydia in study hall."

I didn't get a chance to accept or decline the task, both boys disappearing from the corridor where we were stood. In a way, it was almost like nothing had ever happened – the only difference was, now, Stiles didn't glance back at me lovingly as he walked away.

Study hall wasn't that busy, the room in the library only half full of students. Lydia was easy to find, her head of familiar strawberry-blonde hair stood out from the rest. I dropped into the empty chair beside her, kicking my feet up on the chair opposite her and leaning back, watching as she didn't so much as flinch at my abrupt appearance, pretty green eyes remaining focused on the pages in front of her.

"You've been summoned," I said casually, picking up one of the red pens decorating the desk and twirling it absently around my fingers.

"By who?" she asked, sounding distracted as she copied something down on her notepaper.

"The alpha," I said ominously, but she knew I merely meant Scott, and gave no other reply than a gentle roll of her eyes, continuing to write in soft, looping letters. "Come on," I prompted her, nudging her pointedly. "It's about tonight," I added in a whisper, and finally she looked away from her work only to immediately begin packing up her belongings.

"You'd better go 'convince' Mrs Snyder to let me out of class," she murmured back delicately, and with a triumphant grin I slid to my feet, tossing my bag back over my shoulder and heading up to the front desk.

Once the deed was done, I met her at the door, the other students watching in envy as I led her from the room.

"Did they end up catching up to Liam?" the banshee asked as we walked, and I lifted my shoulders in a lazy shrug, my hands shoved into my pockets.

"He wasn't particularly receptive," I revealed with a grimace, glaring at a group of freshman girls clumped in the middle of the hallway until they parted with soft, terrified squeaks.

"Great," Lydia murmured, reaching up to tug at a strand of long, perfectly curled hair.

The others were already gathered out the back of the school by the buses, away from little, prying ears. "Finally," Stiles rushed out like we'd taken too long. "We need some kind of a plan," he continued on hurriedly, hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack. "Somehow we need to get Liam into the lake house's basement before the moon rises. Any thoughts? Anyone?"

"Um, I'm not sharing my basement," Malia interjected, an irritated scowl on her face.

"Actually, it's my basement," Lydia corrected smoothly. "And my mom noticed how you tore it up last time," she added with a deprecating smile.

"Alright, she's still learning," Stiles cut in with a defensive huff.

"We're gonna use the boat house for Liam. It's got support beams, we can chain him to one of them," Scott said, calming Malia's worries.

There was a pause. "So, how do we get him out to the lake house if he doesn't trust us?" Kira was the one to ask, an anxious look on her face.

"I say, if it keeps him from murdering someone, we just chloroform the little bastard and throw him in the lake," Stiles suggested darkly, and I pressed my lips together tightly in dark amusement.

"I'm in!" Malia said with an apathetic shrug.

"Me too!" I added cheerfully, to absolutely nobody's surprise.

"We're not killing or kidnapping him," the alpha laid down the law.

"Again," I muttered sourly, trying not to make my pout too obvious as I crossed my arms over my chest sulkily. Why could we never do things the easy way?

"Then let's be smarter," Lydia piped up rationally. "We'll tell him there's a party and invite him."

"You're gonna ask out a freshman?" Stiles asked dubiously.

"I'm done with teenage boys," the banshee replied offhandedly. "But, if we're playing a trick on somebody – let's use the Trickster..."

For one heart wrenching moment I was thrown back to the horror show that was the end of last year. My mind was suddenly filled with terrified screams and the intoxicating stench blood and hungry snarls and sexy, breathtaking smirks that made my ache beyond belief.

Somebody's elbow jabbed into my ribs, and I snapped out of my unpleasant stupor with a sharp exhale, turning to lay eyes on Malia, who wasn't giving me a second glance, acting like she hadn't just nudged me from my daze. She must have sensed my panic, and I was silently grateful for the distraction.

"Who, me?" the kitsune was asking from across the space, her heart racing with anxiety. "No way, not me."

"Yes, you," Lydia responded quickly, something of a smirk appearing on her peachy lips. "You know what they call a female fox?" she asked, but Kira could do no more than blink back uncomprehendingly. "A vixen."

There was a pregnant pause. "Me?" the kitsune asked in a small, weak voice.

I let my eyes rake down her form, taking in her conservative clothes and unconfident grimace. "Go on, Kira," Lydia encouraged. "Be a vixen."

"I – I wouldn't even know where to start," she responded nervously, beginning to tug at her clothes like they were choking her.

"Cleavage," I piped up flatly, resting my weight back against the yellow paint of the bus behind me. Kira's eyes went wide in terror at the word. "Seriously, pop a few buttons. Also, try not to look like you're about to throw up – it sends the wrong message," I added callously.

"Jules," Scott snapped at me, shooting me a very strong 'what the hell?' expression.

"Just figured she could use some tips from someone who spent the better half of two hundred years conning humans in order to survive," I muttered sourly, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet.

"Kira isn't like you," Scott said softly, casting his crush a fond look. "She's...sweet."

"Scott's right," Lydia agreed. "But you can use that to your advantage."

"Maybe we should just let Juliet do it," Malia spoke up, a frown covering her face. "She clearly knows what she's doing."

"He already knows I aided Scott in his kidnapping," I said regretfully, casting the alpha an annoyed glance. He had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Also, pretty sure he got a good look at my fangs the other night – he's not gonna go to any party I invite him to, that's for sure."

There was another pregnant pause, and I couldn't help but tune in to her racing pulse.

"Calm your heart before you go into cardiac arrest," I told her quickly, and with a gasp she reached up to press a hand over her heart like it would muffle the sound. I just barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. "You'll be fine, Kira," I assured her, and the mousy little thing looked shocked by my encouraging words. She'd only really known me when I was evil, so I could understand her surprise.

"Come on," Scott said, attracting the kitsune's attention, and I was relieved to be out from under the pressure of everyone's attention. There was a shrill ringing from the main building as the bell sounded, signalling the beginning of the next class.

"Can you text me the address to the lake house?" I asked Lydia quietly before she could run off, and she nodded.

"Do you need a ride?"

"Nah," I shook my head. "I can get there."

With a polite smile she nodded, murmuring something to Malia about math and beginning to lead her away. Though itching for a fix of blood, I instead settled and leaning back against the bus and fishing a cigarette from my bag, holding it up to my lips and lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The sun beat down on me, bright and unforgiving, leaving me feeling weak despite the daylight ring sitting firmly on my finger.

"I thought I convinced you to give that up?" Stiles' voice said from behind me, and I flinched at the sudden sound, shocked that I hadn't realised he was still there. I supposed I was heavily distracted, my mind incredibly loud thanks to the flashbacks that Lydia's words had unknowingly triggered.

I calmed myself, resolutely not looking at him, staring at the bus in front of me, inhaling the chemicals in an effort to silence my brain. "Old habits die hard, I suppose," I murmured back, my free fingers tugging at the loose threads in my old, ripped up jeans.

"It's winter, you know?" he said, and the odd comment threw me.

"I'm aware," I replied flatly, unable to understand the relevance.

"You're wearing a midriff top," he continued, and I glanced down at my attire with a furrowed brow.

"Is the skin I'm showing making you hot?" I teased unthinkingly.

Only, instead of bantering back, he grimaced deeply, his mouth twisted down and his heart stuttering in his chest. "Don't do that," he mumbled, eyes firmly focused on the ground and his jaw clicking with some unnamed emotion.

I'd forgotten myself, forgotten everything I'd done, everything we'd been through, and everything that had changed. "Sorry," I apologised, the word stale on my lips. "What do you need?" I asked, because what other reason could he possibly have for sticking around once everybody else had already left?

"I have a job to do, and I could use your particular set of skills," he told me, confidence creeping back into his tone as he lifted his chin, warm brown eyes meeting cool, detached green.

"Name it," I promised, not for a moment wavering. I wasn't sure there was anything I wouldn't do for him at this this point – I'd even kill, but that much I'd already proven. Somehow I figured this favour wouldn't be as sinful.

"We need to find out more about Liam," he began quickly.

"Why?" I interjected.

"To make sure we didn't just give a mentally-unstable mental patient supernatural abilities," he responded like it was obvious and I was slow for not picking it up sooner.

"Stiles, you just got out of an asylum," I pointed out slowly, something of an ironic smirk growing on my lips.

He shot me a glare that definitely screamed 'you're not helping'. "One: I'm not a newly turned werewolf; and two: I was possessed, not crazy – totally different circumstances," he hissed back irritatedly. I flinched at the mention of Void, and Stiles' expression dropped in something like guilt, which only made me feel guilty. It was a vicious, unhealthy cycle, and one I wasn't in the mood to get stuck in.

"So, why do you need me for this task?" I asked, crossing my arms and tilting my chin up as though completely unaffected.

"Compulsion," he replied in a 'duh' sort of tone.

"Who?"

"The administrative assistant in the office," he said, glancing over his shoulder like he was checking for eavesdroppers. "We need to get Liam's file."

"You've stolen files before," I said confusedly. "Why do you suddenly need me?"

Stiles' face fell. "What? You don't want to work with me?" he asked, sounding defensive and oddly angry.

"The opposite," I snapped back, equally defensive. I inhaled deeply, calming myself. This wasn't helping anyone. If Stiles was bewildered by my answer, he didn't show it in any way other than the picking up of his pulse.

"The file's restricted, under lock and key," he revealed quietly, heart still hammering away as he twisted his fingers together absently. "Can't get to it without you."

I nodded, telling myself not to be such a bitch for once and just do as I was asked. "Come on," I nodded towards the main building. "I'll do it now, while everyone's in class."

He nodded back, clutching his bag tighter as he walked, his sneakers hitting the ground with muted slaps. I tried to think of something to say, some comment or question to break the tense silence that had filled the space between us like a bad scent, only I couldn't come up with a damn thing.

The walk to the office continued in silence.

Although it was the middle of winter, the air conditioning was on full blast in the school's administration office, and I noted how Stiles shivered with the drop in temperature.

"Can I help you, students?" the lady behind the desk asked, red hair frizzy and thick spectacles sitting over her eyes like magnifying glasses. Her voice was chipper and friendly, and I could tell she'd been chewing on the end of her pencil.

I smiled back calmingly, pacing forward so I was standing at the desk, leaning over slightly to meet her eyes through her comical glasses. "What's your full name?" I asked her as I enlarged my pupils, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"Angela Janet Kennedy," she responded flatly, unblinking as she stared back, enraptured and caught in my alluring stare.

"What was that?" Stiles asked in surprise from behind me, shooting me a frown of irritation.

"Checking for vervain, Stilinski," I said back without breaking my eye contact with the administrator. "Now, you're going to give me Liam..." I paused with a huff. "What's the kid's last name?" I asked Stiles impatiently.

"Dunbar," he quickly supplied.

"You're going to give me Liam Dunbar's file, and then you're going to forget you saw us here."

I blinked, and in a perfect trance, the middle-aged woman stood to her feet numbly, turning like a zombie and padding over to the door in the back of the room and disappearing behind it. I could hear the clinking of keys and groaning of drawers being opened, and glanced over my shoulder at Stiles, who was looking down at his hands, an odd kind of smile playing at his lips.

I desperately wanted to ask what he was thinking, but stopped myself. It wasn't my place; I didn't deserve to know. His mind was his own, I no longer had any claim to it.

The receptionist wandered back into the room, shutting the door behind her robotically and approaching us slowly, blindly extending the arm holding the thick file. "Thank you," I said unnecessarily, grimacing even as I said it. Without responding, she took a seat on her chair and began to type away at her computer like we weren't even there. "This way," I prompted Stiles, turning and quietly exiting the room, immediately taking a seat on the chairs out in the hall. "Let's see what kind of skeletons this kid has in his closet, shall we?" I asked with a large, eager smirk.

Stiles eagerly collapsed into the seat beside me, all but snatching the file from my hands in his enthusiasm and prying it open, caramel eyes scanning the page thoroughly.

I wasn't sure how close to him I could stand being, but nonetheless I leaned over, opting to hold my breath as my own eyes ran efficiently down the page, taking in the words written much faster than the human could.

"Oh," I muttered, and Stiles looked up sharply, concern splashed across his face.

"What?" he asked warily, head diving back down to the paper.

I reached out, pressing a finger to the correct paragraph. He exhaled loudly as he read what I'd discovered, pulse speeding up, and not in the good way. We continued to read, taking in the words with weary eyes; this didn't bode well for any of us. From above us, the bell rang, and I knew any second students would flood the hall. "We need to go," I said, snatching the file back and disappearing into the office to compel the poor woman to put it back.

We already had everything we needed to know.


A/N: Hey everybody. If you haven't already, I'd love for you to go check out the poll on my profile! Also, I didn't get much response last chapter, just wanna make sure you guys are liking what I'm doing. I love to hear opinions and theories, I thrive off of them!

Love, love, love to you all! x