Don't lie, bright eyes
Is it me that you see when you fall asleep?
'Cause I know it's you I dream about every night
Giving me a feeling like
Love in the summer
Way I've never felt with another
Don't lie, bright eyes
Is it me that you see?
Tell me I'm not dreaming alone
The story starts lying in the dark broken and bruised
I count the scars left in my heart from losing you
And I was wrong but let's be honest you were too
I miss the part where I was falling hard for you
Dreaming Alone – Against The Current
School. I loathed it.
Not only was I surrounded by idiot children and teachers who all knew far, far less than me, but I was surrounded by humans.
Blood-filled, delicious smelling, tasty looking humans.
I felt like a thirsty alcoholic at a shitty bar during happy hour. It was torture. Look, but don't touch; as the righteous bastards say.
"Would you quit staring like you're imagining what herbs would go best with their cooked bodies?" Lydia hissed at me from where she sat at the end of the table in the cafeteria, a scowl on her pretty face. "We're two days into the week," she added. "Keep your fangs in your mouth."
Glaring right back, I lifted my metal drink bottle, taking a deep sip of cool, sloppy, donated blood. It wasn't as satisfying, but at least the freshmen I'd been eyeing had stopped whimpering in terror when they passed me.
"Is Jules staring at humans like they're on the menu again?" Malia asked absently as she slid into place beside the banshee, a trigonometry book placed before her, a couple of highlighters clutched tightly in her hand.
"You could at least act human," Lydia murmured, clearly in a bad mood. I knew it was because she still hadn't been able to find the remaining cipher keys even after two whole weekends of trying, so I decided not to hold it against her. I knew it was tearing her up inside, that she felt like people's lives rested on her perfectly proportioned shoulders.
"Didn't you have class with Stiles just now?" I asked Malia, spinning around to do another sweep of the room, searching for the spastic, human pack member.
"Mhm," the were-coyote hummed in affirmation, uncapping one of her highlighters and running it over the page.
"Well where is he?"
"Will you loosen up?" she huffed, glancing up at me in clear irritation. "He's not going to get offed between classes. Besides, he's human. He's probably safe."
"Probably," I echoed sourly and even Lydia sighed at my snappy attitude.
"If you watch him any more closely, it'll start to look obsessive," Malia told me apathetically, and I shot her a sharp look that was completely and totally ignored. "You're already stuck to him like glue," she muttered, more so to herself, once more highlighting an important chunk of text in her book.
"Excuse me for being concerned about his safety," I grumbled, trying not to pout.
"You're not even together anymore," she retorted moodily, clearly getting sick of my attitude. I grit my teeth against the unwelcome reminder, exhaling sharply and chewing on my tongue in an effort to keep from snapping back.
"What Malia's trying to say," Lydia murmured softly and placatingly. "Is that maybe you should just give him some space. You don't want to be too clingy," she added like I might relate.
I snapped my jaw at her threateningly, and she flinched briefly, whirling around to shoot me a severely unimpressed glower.
We fell back into silence, Malia furiously studying and Lydia absentmindedly stabbing at her mystery meat with a plastic fork. "There haven't been any other killings since the Carrie girl," I commented abruptly, breaking the quiet that had settled over us like a blanket. "And that was nearly two weeks ago."
"Maybe they've left town," Lydia suggested, looking up from her skewered lunch and pursing her lips as she scanned the cafeteria, looking for something only a banshee had any hope of finding. "Or maybe they've given up."
"They'd only be replaced by another and then another," I muttered, sipping at my meal again, licking away the blood lingering on my lips. "There's always going to be racist, money hungry murderers out there eagerly waiting to slit our throats and stick our heads on pikes as a warning to the innocent supernatural masses..."
My bitter speech was met with deafening silence, and I looked up, blinking at Malia and Lydia, both of whom stared back at me with varying degrees of bewilderment.
"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Does your natural vampiric pessimism have an off switch?" Lydia asked, leaning forwards so the 'V' word wouldn't be overheard.
I grinned back wolfishly. "It's called murderous violence, sweetheart," I told her cheekily, and she huffed out a surprised laugh, leaning back and tossing one of her soggy fries passed her red painted lips.
I breathed in, catching Stiles' chocolate-and-mint scent on the air. I spun around, watching as he and Scott made a beeline for our table. Kira trailed behind them, hands folded in front of her, heart beating anxiously from beneath her chest. I cocked my head, meeting her eyes with my most least threatening smile, but she still flinched away from my gaze.
The past two weeks had been interesting, to say the least. Coming home and immersing myself back into the pack hadn't been an easy feat. The only person who seemed unaffected by my presence was Malia, who was awfully like me in the sense that she just didn't let things get to her. She remained apathetic in the face of grave emotion, something I highly identified with.
If only I could do that without turning into a bloodthirsty animal, that would be oh so sweet.
Lydia was wary of me, constantly watching me like a hawk, as though at any moment I might break out into a murderous rage and begin draining every human in sight. Scott didn't seem too concerned about my control, but was rather wary of my interactions with his best friend, eyes fixed onto me every time I stood in Stiles' vicinity. Kira was downright terrified. To be fair, she had only really seen me as 'soulless Juliet', which I knew was enough to frighten adult men, let alone a shy sixteen year old girl.
Stiles was relatively normal, though I had to admit our dynamic was peculiarly different. It was like he was afraid of me and in awe of me at the same time. His heart beat hurriedly every time we got close, and he was always watching me like he were afraid it would be the last time he ever saw me.
His fears weren't completely unfounded, so I tried not to be too upset by this development.
Stiles slid into the place beside me, his hip brushing mine and making his heart leap as he settled onto the bench. Scott settled on his other side, and I quickly leaned backwards to see around the human, meeting Scott's warm brown eyes.
"How'd it go?" I asked him in an undertone, and the wolf lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug.
"Derek thinks his anger will make him strong," he murmured, casting a glance to the right where Liam sat at a table with some other freshman. The new pup stared gloomily down at his lunch while the children around him laughed boisterously. The contrast was stark.
"And dangerous," I added thoughtfully, watching the way the kid's jaw clenched angrily as his mood shifted.
"Definitely," Scott nodded.
"Will Derek help?"
The alpha shook his head slowly. "My beta, my responsibility."
"You know I'm here, right?" I asked, feeling awkward even as I said it, keeping my tone to a bare whisper so the majority of the rest of the pack couldn't hear. "If you need...you know..." I cleared my throat, not doing well with this kind of thing, staring resolutely at a piece of gum squished into the concrete.
Scott gave an amused laugh. "I know," he agreed, reaching around Stiles to place a large, warm hand on my shoulder, squeezing in a move I would almost call affectionate.
"What's going on?" Stiles asked loudly, and with a final grin Scott let go, turning to his tray of food and beginning to devour the cheap, undercooked burger with gusto.
"Scott was giving me hair tips," I muttered with a sly smirk, shaking off the sweet moment and picking up one of Stiles' fries, popping it into my mouth and trying not to grimace at the texture.
"Good luck," the human snorted, and I smiled back, taking another deep sip of O+ and halfheartedly focusing on what Lydia was explaining to Kira, just trying to enjoy once more being part of a pack, something few vampires can truthfully say they've experienced.
She was saying something about mathematics, but I was more interested in the scent coming from across the room.
"Dammit!" a voice cried out, but it was barely heard over the dull buzz already filling the cafeteria. I tensed, the grip on my drink bottle becoming so tight that I could feel my fingers making dents in the otherwise smooth metal.
"Jules?" Stiles was the first one to notice, as he always was. His eyes followed my line of sight, taking in the kid who'd fallen flat on his ass across the room, a sizeable gash spread from his elbow to his forearm.
All I could see was the red dripping from his arm, collecting in a puddle on the concrete. I stopped breathing, knowing one whiff of the good stuff would be enough to shatter was little control remained intact within me.
"Scott," Stiles barked hurriedly, and suddenly there were arms around my middle, holding me in place. Warm hands pressed against my cheeks, and a face swam into my vision, blocking my view of the blood. Caramel eyes stared back at me, concern stretched across his freckled face. "Shh," he hushed me softly, voice like a lullaby. "Jules, shh..."
I realised I'd begun to growl, the force behind the action making my chest vibrate, the sound reaching the ears of those at tables nearby, beginning to frighten the humans.
"Out," I hissed at Scott with what little air I had left. "Now."
He seemed to get the message, and next thing I knew I was being manhandled across the room. I went limp, still holding my drink bottle in a too-tight grip. People stared after us, but I figured they'd seen enough weird shit throughout town to know not to go asking too many questions.
Once we were out of the cafeteria and away from the source of the smell, I wriggled from Scott's tight grip, landing catlike on the ground, hands braced on my legs as I took in a deep breath of clean, uncontaminated air. I could still smell the blood, but it seemed far away, less tempting than it had a mere moment ago.
A hand pressed against my back, and I looked up in surprise to note it was Malia rather that Stiles. Brow furrowing, I scanned the corridor for him, only to find him standing behind Scott, the alpha's chest puffed out in a subtle warning.
It stung more than it probably should have. Although it did make sense; having the human close to me wouldn't exactly do wonders for my remaining semblance of self-control. "You okay, Jules?" Lydia asked, and I realised with a blink that they'd all followed us out of the cafeteria, surprised to find Kira even holding my bag in one dainty hand.
"I'm fine," I sighed, standing up straight and trying not to feel embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Don't apologise!" Stiles practically barked from where he was stood, unapologetically pushing his way passed Scott and approaching me with careful, cautious steps. I met his eyes, confusion radiating from my expression. Why was he so irritatingly perfect? How could he act like a boy hadn't just nearly been murdered by a vampire right in front of his eyes. "I don't think you should go to class," he said gently, like I was an easily spooked animal.
"What did you have next?" Lydia asked, her voice soft and placating, as though she were talking to a child. I felt briefly miffed, but immediately scolded myself for it. They were doing their best, I could put up with a hint of patronisation for the sake of a human life.
"English," I responded, pressing my arms around my middle in a way they was subtly comforting.
"Skip it," she said, and I blinked in surprise, trying to process the strange order from the usually-studious girl.
"Pardon?" I asked, not seeing the logic.
"Malia and I have a free period," she told me quickly, hefting her designer bag higher up on her shoulder. "Come with us, I'm going to work on getting the other codes."
"How?"
"Automatic writing," she replied flatly, casting Stiles a look that made it obvious it was his idea. He huffed, and she rolled her eyes. "If I can draw a tree, I should be able to write a few names," she added somewhat sourly, and I felt like she were merely repeating his words.
From above us, the bell rang. Scott turned to Kira, who nodded. He looked back at me. "You sure you're okay?" he confirmed warily.
"All good, teen wolf," I assured him softly. "Get to class."
He pursed his lips but nodded, turning with his little kitsune to leave. "I'll meet you guys there!" Stiles called after them, and they tossed him nods of acknowledgement before continuing on their way. "Come on," he said, holding onto the straps of his backpack and staring off in the other direction.
"Stiles, you're gonna be late for class," I murmured in confusion, watching as Lydia began to drag Malia ahead of us as though she'd received some kind of order to do so, leaving Stiles and I to trail behind them by ourselves, dodging hurrying freshman and undisciplined seniors as they shoved their way passed us obliviously.
"So what?" he shrugged. "Better that than you have a slip in control," he added, casting his eyes to his shoes, and my stomach clenched unhappily.
"Coach won't be happy," I muttered, not really concerned but at a loss for what else to say.
"He'll live," he said, perhaps a poor choice of words, as we winced simultaneously. "Uh, I'm probably just going to spend class pouring over those crime scene pictures anyway," he was clearly trying to steer the conversation back into safer waters, and I appreciated the effort.
"You stare at them any longer, you're gonna burn holes in the paper," I stated lightly, and he took a beat to roll his eyes at my terrible attempt at a joke.
"I just feel like we're missing something," he exhaled loudly, coming to a stop outside the art classroom, which was blessedly free of human life. Malia and Lydia slipped inside, leaving the door ajar for me to head in when I was ready.
"You'll figure it out, Stiles," I assured him gently. "You always do."
The halls were empty now, everybody in class, doors closed tightly behind them. We were quiet, Stiles staring at a distant wall of lockers while I stared at him, silently trying to decode the subtle twitches in his expression.
His heart beat wildly in his chest, and my eyes trailed the movement of his muscles under his shirt as he tensed. "I'll see you after?" I finally asked, not wanting him to be any later to class than necessary.
"Right," he nodded, still looking distracted. Eventually he turned to me, a hesitant look on his face as he suddenly and unexpectedly swooped in. I eyed his movement, staying perfectly still as his hot lips pressed gently to my cold cheek. He didn't linger tenderly like I dearly wished he would, instead pulling back with a sharp inhale, tossing me a less-than-confident smile and darting back down the hall and away from me like his life depended on it.
I stared after him pensively until he disappeared around the corner. My cheek was still tingling from where he'd kissed me, and I just barely resisted the urge to press a hand against the spot like some kind of pathetic, lovestruck idiot.
"Juliet!" Malia's voice was annoyed as she yelled out to me from inside the art room, clearly forgetting about the whole super-enhanced-hearing thing.
I rolled my eyes, turning and pushing my way into the room. It was relatively dark, but I assumed it was that way on purpose. Lydia was halfway through assembling an easel, while Malia was rustling through her backpack for something or other.
I reappeared at Lydia's side, but she didn't flinch at my sudden materialisation, merely smiling tightly as a thanks for the help. In one flick of my wrist the easel was upright and steady, and she huffed lightly, though not unkindly.
"How does this work?" Malia asked from behind us, and I walked around to the table off to the side, collapsing in an available chair and swiping up my previous discarded drink bottle, taking a deep sip of the cool blood inside.
"Well, with any luck, I'll just...write something," Lydia attempted to explain, but Malia seemed hardly enlightened.
"Hm," she hummed skeptically, nodding nonetheless.
Content not to be in class, and away from fragile humans, I breathed deeply. The only scents in the room were that of a were-coyote and a banshee, one forest-y and animalistic, the other too sweet with a hint of overpowering death. I would feed from them in a pinch, but they weren't inherently appetising.
"Should I not say anything?" Malia was questioning, and Lydia's lips were pulled into a tight line as she held a pencil just inches above the blank slate of paper. "Will that help?"
"This isn't going to work," I all but sang from where I was reclined, my feet tossed up onto the chair opposite me in a comfortable, casual move.
Lydia's lips only thinned out some more. "Why not?" Malia asked with a blink.
"Well, last time it was absentminded," I told her factually. "This time she'd forcing it – these things rarely work that way."
"Will you be quiet?" the banshee hissed, teeth grit in frustration. Apparently neither of us was helping.
The room once more fell quiet, this time the silence was almost tangible, like I could reach out and grasp it in both hands. It was actually rather uncomfortable.
"Please stop hovering," Lydia abruptly begged of Malia, who was perched over her shoulder, staring at the still-blank canvas with wide, expectant eyes.
"I'm not hovering, I'm...waiting," the were-coyote replied softly, crease appearing between her brows as she stayed where she was. "Draw something; write something. We need to know who else is on that list."
"You mean you need to know if you're on the list," Lydia snapped back, quickly losing patience.
Malia sighed, spinning around to meet my eyes with a hint of exasperation that she, for some reason, believed I shared. Unsure how to proceed, I pursed my lips and nodded, and she turned back to the banshee with a huff. "If someone's coming to take my head off, then yeah, I'd like to know."
We fell back into silence, all except for Malia's breathing as she continued to stare at the paper and Lydia like she was waiting for them to reveal everything.
"Can you please just sit down?" the banshee finally hissed, voice aggravated and stern. "You're making me nervous," she finished as Malia held her hands up in surrender and stepped away. The were-coyote ripped the chair out from under my feet rather uncaringly, collapsing down in it and reluctantly burying her head in her borrowed library book, flipping the pages with an air of apathy that I appreciated.
Bored, I tipped my head back to stare at the ceiling, noting the buzzing sound the air conditioner was making and tossing it an irritated glare.
"Lydia!" Malia exclaimed abruptly, and the other girl flinched.
"What?" she asked with very little patience. "Oh my God, what?" she hissed when the were-coyote continued to say nothing.
"Maybe we need help," she told her bluntly, slamming the book down for the older girl to see. "From another banshee."
"...Meredith," Lydia murmured knowingly, staring down at the drawing of the Wailing Woman with consternation.
"Who the fuck is Meredith?" I questioned, and both turned to look at me in surprise.
"How don't you know who Meredith is?" Malia questioned without tact.
"She was...indisposed...during the whole end of the year," Lydia murmured carefully. "Remember?"
"Like I could forget," Malia snorted, gesturing vaguely to her eyes in a way that was certainly meant to mean my vamp-face, and I shot her sarcastic smile in bitter irritation.
"Meredith's a banshee that Stiles met in Eichen House," Lydia explained, curbing any oncoming squabble that may have appeared.
"Sounds promising," I scoffed in sour amusement.
Lydia shot me an irritated expression. "She helped find me when you and the Nogitsune kidnapped me," she shot back, and instantly I was shut down, the lazy grin dropping from my face and my teeth gritting together in an attempt to keep my own emotions at bay. A glint of regret appeared her expression, and she swallowed loudly, though made no move to take her words back.
"Alright, then," I nodded, trying to retain as much dignity as I possibly could. "We'll need to-"
My phone beeped, interrupting what I'd been about to say. I glanced down at it, somewhat pleased by the intrusion. The text was from Stiles.
Need you. Locker room.
My dead heart seemed to flutter, and I breathed deeply and slowly, trying not to let my glee show on my face. "Duty calls," I muttered, climbing to my feet and shouldering my old, tattered bag. "Keep working on the writing," I prompted Lydia without looking at her. "There's a small chance it might actually work." Though I doubted it.
"You going to be okay, alone?" Malia asked through a deep frown, glancing from me to the doorway warily.
"I'll be fine," I told her flippantly, shooting her a small, convincing smile before stalking towards the door. I'd just yanked it open when Lydia's sweet, soft voice stopped me from leaving.
"Jules," she said, and I reluctantly turned to look at her, one eyebrow cocked expectantly. "Sorry," she apologised sincerely, I could see the remorse for her offhanded comment swimming in her eyes.
I breathed deeply, telling myself to not be such a stubborn bitch. "It's okay," I replied quietly, forcing something of a smile. "I'd hold it over my head, too."
With that I turned and disappeared, heading directly for the locker room, telling myself not to be so eager. Who knew what Stiles needed me for? It probably wasn't for a shag against Coach's desk.
A girl could dream.
Nobody was there when I arrived. Though confused, I leant casually against the wall, impatiently waiting for the cavalry to appear. It was approximately seven minutes and one subtly smoked cigarette later, but soon enough Scott, Kira and Stiles were hurrying towards me, concerned looks glinting in their eyes.
"Where's the fire?" I questioned as they approached, and Stiles made it to me first, pressing a gentle hand to the small of my back and urging me deeper into the room.
"We know the murder weapon," the human told me in an undertone. "Would you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the door handle of Coach's office. Shrugging, I lifting a leg to kick it in. Stiles stop me with a strangled yelp. "I meant the less damaging method," he sounded exasperated.
Rolling my eyes, I turned to Kira. "You got a bobby pin hiding somewhere on your person?" I asked her politely, and though she looked like a frightened gerbil at the attention, she still fished out a pin from her hair, handing it over to me, being very careful to drop it into my hand without touching my skin – which I had to admit, was a tad insulting.
I knelt down on the hard floor, slipping the small pin into the lock and beginning to wriggle it around, trying to find the perfect grip.
"Where did you even learn to do this?" Scott muttered to me under his breath, and I smirked up at him from where I worked.
"Amsterdam," I replied cheekily and completely honestly, taking pleasure in the wolf's surprised expression just as the door clicked open. I slid to my feet smoothly, holding the door open and waving the others through. "You were saying?" I asked Stiles, watching from off to the side as they immediately began to grab any lacrosse stick they could get their hands on, tearing off the little plastic ends and peering into the centre.
"We know the murder weapon," Stiles continued distractedly.
"I thought they were stabbed, not bludgeoned to death," I said, and he shot me a exasperated look, which I enjoyed immensely.
"The killer used a dagger inside the end of a lacrosse stick," he told me quickly, tearing off another end and glancing inside before throwing it to the floor with a frustrated huff.
"So the killer is on the team?" I deduced.
"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, you are," he murmured back dryly.
"Oh, I understood that reference!" I cheered abruptly, a smile lighting up my face before I could stop it. Stiles paused his searching, turning to look at me with unadulterated fondness, so unbridled that the air whooshed from my lungs.
"This is pointless!" Scott had apparently been paying no attention, and we both broke our stare, turning to look at him as he tossed the last of the sticks to the desk in defeat. "Most of the team plays with their own gear."
"Maybe, instead of trying to find a lacrosse stick with a hidden dagger in it, we should be trying to get the game cancelled?" Kira suggested carefully, dark eyes flitting between us all quickly.
"The game is the best way to catch him redhanded," Scott argued gently.
"But what if he'd redhanded because his hands are covered in the blood of the person he just stabbed to death?" Stiles countered quickly. "Which, by the way, could be either of you guys," he said, gesturing between them.
"...or Liam," the alpha murmured solemnly. "We don't have the whole list, and he could be on it."
"We don't know anything about that list!" Stiles hissed back. "How it's made? How it's updated? I mean, who's been out taking a supernatural census, anyway?"
"How do they even know about me?" Kira posed an interesting question.
"They know about everyone," Scott murmured to himself, a look of abject horror on his puppy-dog features.
"And they know about me," I muttered through a frown.
Stiles huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Love, you haven't exactly been subtle." I blinked in surprise at both the pet name and the words. If Stiles noticed the slip, he didn't show it. "I think Scott's right," he announced assuredly. "I think we should stop the game."
Scott seemed to shake his head. "...I'm not afraid," he told us bravely.
"Neither am I," Kira proclaimed valiantly.
"Well I'm terrified!" Stiles interjected sharply, throwing his arms up in the air in pure exasperation. "And I'm not even on the list! Guys, these are professional killers. It's their profession! One of them's got a thermo-cut wire that cuts heads off! Who knows what else they have?"
"Look, the issue still stands," I said, growing impatient from the banter. "To play, or not to play?"
"That is the question," Stiles joked rather lamely, and I took the time to shoot him an unimpressed stare that made him clear his throat awkwardly.
"How are we supposed to get the game cancelled?" Kira posed the question thoughtfully.
"Coach's dosed with vervain," I murmured rather bitterly. "No way I could compel him." We were quiet for a beat. "I could break someone's arm?" I suggested hopefully.
"No, Juliet," Scott deadpanned with even a moment of hesitation.
"Besides, that wouldn't stop the game," Stiles spoke up. "He'd just bench the player."
"I could break Coach's arm?"
"You're not breaking anyone's arm," Scott looked dangerously close to rolling his eyes. I sighed, biting my lip in an effort not to pout like a child. "We play," the alpha declared suddenly, chin tilted up bravely. "It'll be dangerous, but it may be our only opportunity to catch the killer. Besides, we'll have Jules watch from the sidelines."
"Because she has a great track record when it comes to getting the upper hand in a fight," Stiles practically sneered, and I whirled around to glare at him.
"Those were all alphas, vampires and full-moon-enhanced werewolves," I argued through gritted teeth. "I can take a single teenage human playing dress up."
"Are you sure?" he said condescendingly.
"Don't think I won't hit you, Stilinski," I growled dangerously, but instead of looking irked, he actually looked kind of...turned on. His cheeks flushed and his heart raced, his eyes going a shade darker. Surprised, my irritation dropped and I cocked my head curiously, trying to decode the odd reaction, remembering that spark in his eye.
"Guys," Scott spoke up with awkwardness in his voice, and I realised the human and I had been staring at each other consumingly. I broke the contact, spinning back around to frown at the werewolf.
"If you play, I'll be there," I assured him, shaking off the encounter with only slight difficulty.
"Come on," Stiles' voice was strained, like he was holding his breath. "I can't get skipping more class."
He turned abruptly, striding from the room like a solider at a ceremony, spine straight and shoulders held back. I watched him warily, concerned I'd done something wrong, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it could have been.
Walking to the Biology classroom was slow, listening as Scott murmured something to Stiles about lacrosse, only for us all to come to a sudden stop, the pathway flooded with curious students all crowded together, blocking the way rather rudely. "What's the holdup?" I snapped at the cluster of students, who all flinched at the venom in my voice. Admittedly, I was left unapologetically grumpy from the encounter with Stiles.
"Jules," Scott muttered, jerking his chin in the direction of the buses, where a group of boys stood in the open, one in particular was familiar.
Watching Liam try to bury the hatchet with his old schoolmates was kind of like watching a professional figure skater trip and fall on their face during a routine. Amusing, but it still made you cringe.
An awfully familiar scent carried on the wind, and I tensed before realising it wasn't quite appetising. "Scott," I hissed to the alpha warningly. "Blood."
Stiles and Scott leapt forwards, diving in between Liam and the human boy, holding the new beta back from doing something he'd regret. Stiles floundered, opening his stupid mouth and rambling on at the other team, only serving to make them confused and suspicious. I rolled my eyes and moved forwards, fully prepared to step in should things go south, but a beat later Scott and Stiles were dragging a struggling Liam towards me, and I spun around, immediately clearing a path for the boys.
"Move!" I hissed, swatting at an in-the-way freshman, who paled in terror and leapt away from my violent gesture. The boys didn't even have the time to chastise me for my less than gentle tactics, rushing to get Liam out of sight.
"Where?" Scott asked us in a rush, shoving the hyperventilating werewolf into the school and shooting an innocent smile at a group of suspicious looking seniors.
"Uh – the locker room!" Stiles blurted as Liam tugged his way free, growling warningly at the human, who raised his hands in uneasy surrender. Swooping in, I locked my fingers around the beta's neck, gripping tight enough to regain control, using the leverage to angle him in our desired direction. "That's one way to do it," Stiles muttered to himself from behind me, and I moved away from Liam's snapping jaws long enough to shoot him a wolfish grin. "Nothing to see here!" he hurried to tell a group of passing girls, watching us storm by in horrified concern. "Just a bit of a violent outburst," he laughed weakly, but none of them looked convinced.
Scott held open the door to the locker room, and I manhandled the struggling werewolf into the room. "Showers," the alpha instructed, grasping Liam's arms to assist me. With a grunt I slammed the kid up against the tiles. Scott's hand shot out, grasping the knobs for the water, instantaneously drenching us with water.
Liam writhed in our hold, and I blinked the water from my eyes as I slammed him back up against the wet tiles, expertly dodging his snapping jaws.
"Are you calm yet?" Stiles asked from over my shoulder, but Liam only roared in response.
I shoved him back under the ice cold spray, holding him there and glaring as his eyes glowed amber. "Don't make me knock you unconscious again, pup," I snarled, slamming him against the wall in the most least sexy way ever, and with a shuddering gasp his eyes returned to their natural state.
"Okay," he heaved, flinching away from us, though not as he had before. "Okay!" he insisted, and I exchanged a contemplative look with Scott before the alpha nodded, flicking off the water and letting go of his young beta. Reluctantly, I released him also, stepping back and looking down at myself, my sleeves and front dripping with water.
Scowling, I shot Liam an unimpressed look that he didn't acknowledge. Gasping for breath, the kid slid to the floor, hanging his head as he collected himself.
"That car you smashed?" Scott began carefully, tone confused but patient. "I thought you said that it was your teachers."
"He was also my coach," the beta responded grimly. "He benched me for the entire season."
"That's...rough," I murmured awkwardly, feeling like the comment warranted a response, but not knowing what to say. Liam shot me a somewhat irritated frown that I happily ignored.
"What did you do?" the alpha demanded, beginning to grow anxious.
Liam cringed, shrugging his shoulders. "I got a couple red cards," he admitted.
"What's a red card mean?" I whispered to Stiles who shot me the blankest look I'd ever seen in my life. Deciding to ask later, I pursed my lips and turned back to the conversation at hand. Wasn't my fucking fault I didn't know anything about sports.
"Just a couple?" Stiles asked the kid sarcastically.
Scott crouched down by the beta's side, heart steady in his chest as he murmured to him. "You've gotta be honest with us," he said gently, like Liam was fragile. The kid looked up, a hesitance in his eyes that clashed with Scott's knowing stare. "What else happened?" the alpha pressed firmly.
"Nothing!" Liam insisted, too quickly to be anything but a lie.
"Tell the truth, you little-" I began in an irritated snarl, but a gentle hand on my arm held me back. I took a deep, calming breath, immersing myself in Stiles' comforting, familiar scent. Liam stared up at me, eyes wide and vulnerable, and I felt something in me twitch, like a long since buried maternal instinct that had been hidden for so long I'd forgotten it was even there. I sighed, reaching up to rub at my brow. "We can't help you if you don't tell the truth, Liam," I said with as much patience as I was physically able to handle.
His heart stuttered, and he swallowed loudly. "I got kicked out of school," he admitted after a long, hesitant pause. "They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation," he revealed with a scowl, unable to meet our eyes.
"What'd they call it?" Scott asked gently.
"Intermittent Explosive Disorder," he told us reluctantly.
"IED?" Stiles exclaimed, and I glanced over my shoulders to see his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You're literally an IED? That's great!" Turning to Scott with a sarcastic grin, he added, "you gave superpowers to a walking time bomb."
"They must have given you something for it," I murmured knowingly, and both boys turned to look at me perplexedly. "Risperdal?" I guessed, and the boys' looks of bemusement only deepened. "I did more at college than play beer pong and eat people, you know," I murmured to Stiles defensively, and despite everything, the kid actually snorted with dark amusement.
"Yeah, it was Risperdal," Liam was the least surprised by my knowledge, and he confirmed my suspicions. "It's an anti-psychotic," he explained to Scott lowly, and the alpha looked away from me, focusing his attention back on Liam.
"This just gets better," Stiles muttered sardonically, and this time I was the one to smirk in dark amusement.
"But I don't take it."
"Obviously."
"I can't play lacrosse on it; it makes me too tired," the beta explained, sounding stricken.
"Okay," Scott murmured, and I could practically see his mind whirring over as he took everything in. "I think you shouldn't play the game tonight. Tell coach your leg's still hurting."
"No!" Liam argued without hesitation, unsteadily climbing to his feet. On instinct my hand shot out to help him, but he shrugged me off, and I pulled back with a grimace. "I can do this!" he insisted hurriedly. "Especially if you're there," he added hopefully, and from behind me, Stiles sighed and dropped his face into his palms.
"Liam, it's not just about the game," Scott replied patiently. "We think, whoever killed Demarco, might be on our team," he told him gently, and but Liam gave no sign that this concerned him.
"Who's Demarco?" he asked a beat later, and I huffed, hating it when people were uninformed, wasting valuable time playing catch-up.
"The one who brought the beer to the party?" Stiles supplied impatiently. "Remember? The guy who was beheaded?"
"What we do know, is whoever ordered that keg, they killed Demarco," I told him, keeping myself from growling in annoyance at the rehash of information.
This time Liam did react, he dropped eye contact, his heart beginning to race in his chest. I raised an eyebrow, shifting subtly closer to the kid. "Liam?" Scott asked, picking up on it too. "You know something?"
"I don't know who ordered the keg," the beta replied hollowly. "But I know who paid for it."
"Who?" Stiles interjected eagerly, shoving himself away from the wall and stepping closer to the recovering kid.
"Garrett," Liam revealed with a blink.
"Garrett what?" Stiles barked impatiently.
"I don't know his last name," he insisted quickly. "All I know is that he's a freshman, like me."
"Can you point him out if you see him?" Scott asked hopefully.
Liam didn't hesitate this time. "Yeah," he assured us confidently. "Yeah, I can."
"Liam really shouldn't be playing," Scott was muttering to us heavily, staring across the field at the beta, who was bouncing on his toes and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the game.
"What are you gonna do about it, then, teen wolf?" I asked impatiently, reclined on the bench beside Kira. The fox was angled ever-so-slightly away from me, not able to meet my eyes, probably for fear I'd turn her to stone, or something equally ridiculous.
"What can I do?" he responded sullenly, keen eyes sweeping the field, watching every player meandering across the grass, on the look out for anything even slightly suspicious.
"I don't know, talk to Coach," I replied unhelpfully, but Scott seemed to take the idea seriously, nodding to himself and climbing to his feet. "I was kidding!" I murmured after him, turning to look at Stiles, who was propped up with his lacrosse stick, watching with raised brows. "This isn't gonna work," I muttered to him, and he grunted in complete agreement.
"Juliet?" Kira's voice was meek, but when I turned to look, there was a brave spark in her eyes, one that made me intrigued. "You...you'll be keeping an eye on everything, right?" she murmured, hopeful but wary as she spoke.
I cocked my head, curiosity spiked. "What are you really trying to ask me, vixen?" I asked instead of answering, my eyes narrowed in her direction.
She winced, probably upset she was so transparent. "You'll make sure nobody hurts Scott, won't you?" she finally questioned me honestly.
I couldn't help the smile that quirked at my lips. "I think, out of all of us, Scott's the one who can actually take care of himself," I told her confidently, casting a glance over to the alpha, who was stood in front of Coach, pleading with him to make Liam sit out of the game.
"I know," the kitsune murmured, eyes aimed in the same direction. "I just..." she didn't seem to know how to word what she was trying to say.
"Worry," I finished with a knowing nod, casting a glance back at Stiles who was talking on the phone to his father in hushed undertones, a frown pulling at his brows. "I get it," I revealed in a move of surprising honesty, and Kira looked surprised by the show of sentimentality. Stiles hung up his phone, huffing as he slid it into his bag and zipped it up, tossing it carelessly onto the damp grass.
"Hey Liam! Think fast!"
All of our heads swung around in time to see the new beta pluck the ball from the air with his supernatural reflexes. The whistle blew, and all of the players began to flow onto the field. I shot Kira a rare smile, the action somewhat of an olive branch, and she attempted one back before sliding her helmet over her head and climbing warily to her feet.
Stiles stepped passed me, moving to follow her, but before I realised what I was doing my hand shot out, grasping at his wrist and yanking him to a stop. Pausing, the kid looked down at me, pulling the helmet from his head and peering at me through confused eyes.
"Please be careful," I begged him quietly, meeting his caramel gaze firmly, hoping he understood how much my sanity rested on this request.
"I'm not on the dead pool," he said as though it was meant to comfort me. His eyes bore into mine, and his heart rate picked up, whether from anticipation or nerves, I couldn't tell. "I'll be fine."
"Still," I murmured, squeezing his wrist tighter, idly thinking that I wished he wasn't covered by his uniform, so I could feel comforted by his warm skin pressed bare against mine. "Please."
"I'll be fine," he repeated emphatically, bending slightly, bringing our faces torturously closer together. "I have you watching me," he added with a quirk of his lips, and I exhaled sharply, holding him tighter. "I couldn't be safer."
"Stilinski!" Coach shouted in a snap, and we both looked up, realising the entire field was in limbo, waiting for Stiles to join the game. Coach looked less than pleased, eyebrows raised at us in incredulity, like he couldn't believe we could be so rude as to hold up the game.
"Go," I prompted Stiles, letting him go with a reluctant wince.
He stared at me for one long second before leaping into action, slipping his helmet back on and jogging out onto the field. I watched him go with a frown, suddenly wishing I had joined lacrosse, if only so I could stay by his side.
The game began quickly, but my attention was on anything but where the ball was. I kept my eyes on Stiles, even though I knew they really should have been on Liam. It wasn't until two of the other team's members violently and illegally shoved Liam to the ground that I realised I had to be keeping a closer eye on him. He tore off his helmet and gloves, diving at the opposing members with an animalistic snarl that thankfully went unheard over the cheers of the crowd.
I stood to my feet, shifting my weight as I prepared to intervene. Scott, however, seemed to sense my indecision, and without even looking up at me held out a hand in my direction that I knew instinctively was for my benefit. I reluctantly sat back down on the bench, grumbling under my breath unhappily as I watched the others get a handle on Liam.
The kid calmed with a command from his alpha, and I relaxed again, glancing idly at the scoreboard. I knew very little about sports, but I understood the basics of the game – you got the ball into the net, you won a point. So far the away team was on 2, while we sat at an inconvenient 0.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reluctantly looked away from the game to fish it out, blinking down at the text I'd received.
Meredith at Station. Meet you there?
It was from Lydia, and I really shouldn't have been surprised that the escaped mental patient had somehow known we were looking for her. Bloody Banshees.
At game, won't leave them, I responded concisely, but Lydia seemed to understand without any further explanation.
Keep you updated, she promised, and I felt a warm sort of glow. It was almost like we were real friends, and I realised with a start that that was something I now wanted. I was over my petty dislike of the banshee. Who cared that Stiles once had a thing for her? Who cared that she acted ditzy and superficial in the beginning? I knew that, in reality, she was anything but, and that was what mattered.
With a decisive nod, I pocketed my phone and turned my attention back to the game and Stiles, watching as he scooped up the ball, darting around the other players and tossing it perfectly to Kira, who seemed more than a little bewildered that she'd caught it.
I watched with surprisingly bated breath as she twirled around the other players with a grace that could only come from the supernatural.
"Pass the ball!" Coach was yelling at her furiously, but by the way her heart was hammering in her chest, I doubted she could hear him. With an almost expert throw the ball was sent flying into the net, the guy meant to be guarding it missing my a long shot.
I grinned widely, oddly proud as I clapped my hands in support, never one to cheer in an undignified manner like the others. Kira was more than ecstatic, leaping for joy as she celebrated the point she'd earned.
"Yukimura!" Coach snapped sharply, and the kitsune spun around from where she was beaming happily at Scott. "Get over here!" he ordered, and she began to jog in his direction. She tore off her helmet, a wide grin on her pretty face. "Take a seat, you're benched for the rest of the game," Coach barked without preamble, and the excited smile promptly melted from her face.
"What? Why?" she asked, bewildered. Irritation clawed at my insides, and felt my own face pull into a displeased scowl.
"You didn't pass," the Coach deadpanned.
"I had an open shot!" she argued.
"The play was for you to pass. This is a scrimmage, it's about teamwork, Yukimura," he said with the utmost condescension. "So, you're benched." He glanced over his shoulder, irritated eyes narrowed at me. "Cooper, get off the bench; players only," he snapped.
It was all I could do not to make my eyes flood with blood. "Don't tell me what to do," I seethed back furiously, and his eyebrows raised like he was contemplating arguing with me, but there was a shout from the other team's Coach and with an exasperated huff he turned his attention away.
With a defeated sigh, Kira hung her head and marched back to the bench I was perched on. She collapsed onto the seat, dropping her helmet to the ground.
"Can you believe he benched me?" she murmured in disbelief, and considering I was the only person within earshot, I figured she was talking to me.
"Coach can be a bit of a prick," I replied flatly, shooting him another glare that unfortunately went unnoticed. "But hey, that was one hell of a shot," I added, attempting a friendly sort of tone.
To my surprise, Kira actually smiled, looking up at me for the first time without that hint of fear in her dark eyes. "Thanks, Jules," she said, seeming happy that I was offering somewhat of a friendship. I idly thought that maybe coming back here wasn't such a huge mistake after all, maybe this really was where I belonged.
My existence shouldn't have hinged on whether things with Stiles were good, I realised. I could be fulfilled by friendships just as much as I could a relationship. I smiled at her, deciding once again to work on not being such a bitch. Allison was gone, this I knew, but that didn't mean my opportunity for friends had died with her. Kira, Malia and Lydia were here, and they were willing to accept me for who, and what, I was; murderous tenancies and all.
There was a roar and a sickening crack from the field, and I was pulled from my thought harshly, turning my attention to the figure lying helpless on the grass. I sniffed cautiously, but, luckily for them, there was no hint of blood in the cool, evening air. My eyes darted across the players until they landed on the large 24 pasted across Stiles' chest, more than a little bit relieved he was okay.
People began to run into the field, concerned by the two players laid unmoving on the ground. Their hearts continued to beat in their chests, so I remained unconcerned, my eyes sweeping over the scene, taking in everything I could see, looking for any hint of something suspicious.
"Are they okay?" Kira questioned, standing from the bench in an effort to see what was happening.
"Everyone's alive," I replied quietly, teeth grit together as I tried to see what I was missing. Why wasn't anyone dead? "For now," I added pensively, but Kira didn't seem relieved by my addition.
Coach began to call for everyone to clear the field as the injured player was escorted off the grass and onto the waiting table by the medic. Scott was murmuring to Liam in stern undertones, and whatever he was saying, the beta seemed to be agreeing, nodding his head acceptingly. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but before I could look at it, Stiles appeared at my side, heart still beating wildly from beneath his ribs.
"You alright?" I asked him gently, inquiring more about his mental state than his physical one.
"I will be once this damn night is over," he exhaled sharply, yanking off his helmet and running a hand through his sweaty hair, making it even more unruly than before.
I hummed in agreement, finally fishing out my phone and opening it, peering down at the words on the screen.
Call me, Lydia's text read, the order clear as day.
Immediately I found her number, pressing send and holding the phone up to my ear, waiting impatiently as it rang. She answered on the second ring.
"What is it?" I asked before she could get a word out, and Stiles perked up in worry, leaning closer in an attempt to hear her response. I jerked away, his scent invading my head like smoke, the urge to feed growing stronger. He looked hurt my my slight rejection, but I didn't have the time to worry about his feelings right now.
"We broke the next list," Lydia revealed, her tone hushed, like she didn't want somebody overhearing. I assumed she was still at the police station, probably swarmed by human officers.
"You what?" I blinked in surprise. "With what code?"
"Meredith helped," she told me in clipped tones. "The key was 'Aiden'."
I sucked in a deep breath, processing this carefully. If there was any doubt that the key word 'Allison' had been a coincidence, it was long, long gone.
"Is Liam on the list?" I questioned hurriedly, glancing over at the beta who was stood with Coach, conversing in low tones. Stiles perked up at my response, eyes shooting wide open in shock.
"I'm sending you through an image now," Lydia said instead of an answer.
"Everything okay?" I asked, glancing at Stiles who looked more than a little eager for me to get off the phone and explain things properly.
"We're fine," the Banshee assured me gently. There was a sound on the other end of the line, and I frowned as Lydia mumbled something away from the receiver. "I've got to go. Tell the others."
"Will do," I swore, hanging up the phone and turning to an anxious Stiles.
"Lydia uncovered more of the list?" he asked before I could so much as open my mouth. I decided to say nothing – I didn't exactly have any other news to tell him. Wordlessly I held up my phone so we could both see it, a crystal clear image of yet another list displayed plainly on the small screen.
Stiles ran a finger down the names, looking for anyone we knew.
"Liam isn't on here," he murmured thoughtfully, only to come to a stop at an unfamiliar name. "Oh no," he muttered, and I narrowed my eyes at the name.
"Who's Brett Talbot?" I questioned with a crinkle of my nose.
"The guy who just disappeared into the school," Stiles revealed heavily, a weary, concerned look on his face that made me uneasy. "The one who was just attacked."
A/N: Wow - chapter 70! It's Christmas Eve, 11:15pm, here in Australia, and I figured I'd give you this chapter as a gift! Lots of tension between Stiles and Jules, eventually things are probably going to boil over...
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I hope you're all having a wonderful break, and I hope all you guys on other continents are appreciating the cold, because it's about a billion degrees here! Anyway, I love each and every one of you to bits, and if you felt like giving back this holiday season, the review box is right below ;)
Happy Holidays! xx
