Let me live without this
Empty bliss, selfishness
I'm so sick
I'm so sick
Hear it, I'm screaming it
You're heeding to it now
Hear it, I'm screaming it
You tremble at this sound
I'm So Sick – Flyleaf
It all happened fairly quickly after that, or, I assumed it did; I didn't really have any experience with outbreaks of viruses or encounters with the Centre for Disease Control. It didn't come up much in a vampire's day-to-day life, as you'd probably imagine.
The CDC were already on their way, in town by the one hour mark after the outbreak was called in by a terrified Ms Martin.
"Do you think it's bad?" Stiles asked me, voice hopeful, like my answer would be 'oh, it's fine, and we'll be out of here and home by dinner'.
It wasn't.
"I think, if the CDC are on their way, it's bad."
Thankfully, I wasn't the one to say it, instead it was Malia, who had a grumpy frown sitting on her face, arms crossed as she glared at anyone who came close. "They'll let us take the test again," Kira assured her quietly, but Malia gave no indication she was listening, and the kitsune looked vaguely disheartened.
"We're missing the biggest, most glaringly obvious issue here, people," I muttered, sounding as bitter as I felt.
"What's that?" Scott asked, sounding tired, like this whole thing rested solely on his broad shoulders.
"Doctors are coming," I said slowly, feeling like I may as well have been talking to a bunch of toddlers. "Doctor's with their blood tests, and their stethoscopes." There was silence as the others processed this information. "How long do you think it'll take them to spot your animal DNA?" I asked Scott and Malia, who both frowned. "Or, worse still-"
"That you have no pulse," Stiles finished for me, a look of horror falling over his features for the first time since this whole debacle began.
"I can't imagine they're going to be letting any of us walk out of here once they spot these little symptoms," I said, my voice a snarl.
"Can't you just compel them?" Kira asked hopefully, her heart slamming against her ribcage in terribly masked fear.
"I can't compel a whole legion of CDC officers!" I hissed at her furiously, and she shifted away from me warily. Realising the reaction may have been a tad harsh, and perhaps unnecessary, I sighed deeply through my mouth, exhaling noisily in an attempt to calm myself. "Sorry," I apologised once I once again had control of my actions.
Kira shot me a shaky smile, and I realised that, whatever this was, as a vampire, I had no chance of contracting it. I couldn't get sick, so it wouldn't affect me. Unless by some small chance this virus was of supernatural origin, and therefore targeted the supernatural specifically, I highly doubted it would matter.
I mean, what were the odds of that, right?
A hand pressed to the small of my back, and I knew it was Stiles from the way my body reacted to his touch, my skin beginning to tingle where we were connected, my lower back exposed by the midriff top I'd stupidly put on that morning.
I tried not to sigh at the contact, but couldn't help but lean into his warmth. His heart leapt in his chest in that familiar way that it seemed to only do for me.
"We're going to be okay, you guys," Scott assured us, ever the optimist.
"Really now?" I sneered doubtfully, hands balled into irritated fists.
"Now isn't the time to be sardonic, Jules," Malia said, and I turned to her with raised eyebrows.
"Sardonic?" I echoed, and she nodded, only to lose her confidence halfway through.
"Did I not use it right?" she questioned, looking self-conscious.
I smiled at her, my own irritations soothed by the chatter that had begun. "You really did study for this test, didn't you?" I murmured, leaning further into Stiles' touch, addicted to the warmth he seemed to radiate.
"I had a lot of catching up to do," Malia muttered back with a hint of bitterness that made me smirk.
The front doors of the school banged open, and I perked my head up, along with Scott. Malia and Kira, who still weren't as in-tune with their senses as we were, both looked confused, though Stiles caught on quickly, as always.
"They're here?" he asked, and I nodded, casting the door a long glance until I saw yellow-covered heads bob along through the corridor.
We were all silent, each of us processing the gravity of the situation in our own way.
"I'm going to go see what's happening," Scott said, standing to his feet rather abruptly, turning to leave the room.
"I'll go with you!" I insisted immediately, hating the thought of sitting in this classroom doing absolutely nothing to help.
"No," Scott said calmly, shaking his head. "You've got to stay here with them."
"What? They're fine," I replied confusedly.
"But they might not stay fine," he told me seriously, keeping his voice low.
He was right, and I cast a glance back at them, feeling my stomach almost drop out from under me. None of them could die. Not today. I wouldn't survive it.
"I'll watch them," I swore, and Scott nodded, exchanging a longing look with Kira before he turned and left the room. The creepy teacher's eyes followed him as he left, but he saw me watched and quickly focused his attention back on the stack of papers in front of him.
I turned back to the others, moving over and taking a seat in the empty chair. We were quiet, pensive as we listened to everything happening around us.
"They think it's smallpox," Stiles murmured to Kira, Malia and I, perched up on top of a desk, his hands twisted together in front of him. I groaned aloud, dropping my head from where I was reclined in the chair of the desk Stiles was on, my knees bent as my feet were propped up on the lip of the wooden desk.
"Not likely," the test moderator said from the front of the room before I could make a comment about the 60s, and how much of a bitch the virus had been back then. Humans tasted awful with smallpox. "Smallpox was eradicated worldwide in 1979." The others paused, and Malia shot me a look with raised eyebrows, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn't wrong. "We've only managed to completely eradicate two viruses in history – the other was rinderpest...it killed cows."
There was a pregnant pause.
"So we should be comforted by that, right?" Stiles asked, twisted away from me to look at the teacher, though I could imagine the smirk sitting on his face.
"This is something worse," the man responded darkly.
"Okay Mr Dramatist," I muttered, rocking onto the back two legs of my chair, looking up at the ceiling and smiling internally as I listened to Stiles chuckle.
"Whatever it is, they're taking it pretty seriously," Malia murmured to us, glancing out the far windows with thoughtful eyes. "There's a lot of cars and trucks out there," she said, though this I already knew. "Your dad's with them," she added, looking at Stiles closely.
The human's heart leapt, and he clamoured off the desk, stumbling over to the box of cell phones that sat on the edge of the teacher's desk. "Alright, I should probably call him," he said to himself, beginning to sift through the bags of phones.
"Don't bother," the moderator drawled, and I looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "They would have shut off any access to all outside communication by now. No cell service, no wifi, no starting a panic. Looks like we're all just going to have to wait here and see what happens..." he licked his finger, turning his attention back to the pages of the book he was perusing.
"Fucking creepy," I muttered to Malia.
"And coming from you, that's saying something," she murmured back, shooting the guy a narrow-eyed stare. Unable to help it, my lips twitched upwards.
There was a pause before Stiles came back to perch in his vacated spot. After a moment he began talking, muttering to the girls in undertones, but suddenly I couldn't hear. It was like everything was underwater. My vision unfocused and refocused, like the lens of a camera, and I caught my breath as the changes made me feel dizzy.
"Jules."
I spun around in my chair, glancing out the empty hallway.
"Juliet!"
It said again, and I knew it was Scott, I'd know his voice anywhere. I climbed to my feet, pushing the chair back and stepping towards the door. Stiles' hand caught my wrist, and I pulled myself together long enough to shoot him a smile.
"I'll be right back," I assured him, but he didn't seem calmed by the vague excuse. "Trust me," I said, meeting his eyes but stopping myself from smiling. I could feel my gums tingling, which was never a good sign.
He didn't look convinced, but I ripped my arm from his grip and strode towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" the moderator asked in a slimy tone.
"Bathroom," I snapped back, giving him no time to argue before I slipped out into the hallway and disappeared from view. Scott's voice was coming from the boy's locker room, and I began to run once I was sure nobody was watching.
But my legs suddenly felt like weights, each step heavier and heavier, until I found I couldn't run, stopping against the lockers to catch my breath, which was abruptly not such an easy task.
"What the fuck is happening to me?" I asked aloud, receiving nothing but silence from the empty hall. Pulling myself together once more, I began to walk back towards where Scott was still muttering my name, over and over, like a chant.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I burst into the locker room. "Scott?" I asked, getting a pained grunt in reply.
Two rows of lockers over, Scott was collapsed between them.
"Scott!" I exclaimed, gladly dropping to my knees, my entire body beginning to ache. The wolf looked up, and I spotted the massive fangs jutting from his mouth and the glowing ruby of his eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked, reaching out a pressing a hand to his forehead, his skin sticky with sweat.
"Was hoping you could tell me," he groaned, leaning his weight against the bay of lockers and panting. "But it's happening to you, too," he said with a pained sigh. Gasping quietly, I lifted a hand to my cheeks, my fingertips brushing the inky veins crawling over my smooth skin like deadly the black vines of a poisonous rose bush.
I still felt unwell, but I reached out to grasp Scott once more. "You need to calm down," I said softly, rubbing my thumbs against his shoulders in a way I imagined would in some way hopefully be soothing. "If someone sees you like this..." I trailed off, because finishing the statement wasn't necessary.
"What are we going to do?" Scott seemed scared, more scared than I could remember seeing him, and I sighed, pressing my forehead to his affectionately.
"We're going to be okay, little wolf," I promised him gently, even though such promises weren't mine to make. He panted, his claws, which were fully protruded from his fingertips, scratched unforgivingly at the floor.
The door opened from across the room, and I pulled away from my friend, holding a finger to my lips clearly, and he held his breath so the newcomer wouldn't overhear his pained panting.
"Scott?!" it was Mr Yukimura, Kira's dad, the human in the know.
"Over here," I called to the history teacher. I wasn't feeling great, not by any definition of the word, but my priority was Scott. I'd be fine, I probably just needed a good run and some fresh blood. The thought made my throat burn with thirst, but I swallowed it down, gritting my teeth to try and stop my fangs from appearing.
"Scott?" Mr Yukimura asked, stepping into view, shocked by what he was seeing. "Juliet?" he sounded so confused. I understood, wasn't often you saw a two-hundred year old vampire curled on the floor next to an alpha werewolf, running a hand against his back in soothing comfort.
"Get Stiles," Scott growled at the teacher, who hesitated only a beat before deciding that listening to the wolf was in his best interests. He scurried from the room, on a mission to find the pack.
"Is that such a good idea?" I asked lowly, watching as his eyes glowed again.
"Afraid I'll hurt him?"
"Afraid I will," I muttered bitterly, pulling away from Scott as what I could only describe as nausea filled me. I ducked away, pressing myself against the lockers and tucking my head between my legs like humans told other humans to do when they felt ill.
"You'd never...you'd never hurt Stiles," Scott murmured to me as firmly as he could.
"Sh," I shushed him, not in the mood for one of his speeches on redemption. "Just focus on the shift," I instructed him from where I was curled, and he broke off with a huff, groaning with pain from whatever was happening to us.
It was silent for one long, blissful minute, then the sound of feet slapping against the linoleum floor met my ears, and the door burst open, the room flooding with a mixture of scents that only made me feel sicker.
"Jules?! Scott?!" Stiles tripped into sight, all but collapsing in his haste to get down to our level.
"Stay back!" Mr Yukimura barked in an uncharacteristic outburst, and I looked up sharply, giving them all a great look at my bloody eyes and protruding, deadly fangs.
"It's fine," Stiles snapped back at the teacher, but I shook my head at him. I remained blessedly calm, reaching out a hand to nudge him away from us.
"Stay back," I echoed the teacher, relaxed but firm and I pushed him away. He climbed back to his feet just as Kira and Malia came into view, having followed at a much slower pace.
"What's happening?" Stiles asked, his voice anxious.
"Good question," I murmured, resting my head against my knees, staring up at them, unable to make the red of my vampire eyes recede.
"Scott, can you focus on staying human?" Mr Yukimura asked, looking down at the wolf who was still crouched, skin caked with tangy sweat that made my nose crinkle in disgust. I couldn't sweat, thank God, it just wasn't something vampires could do. Something about the levels of water in our bodies or something.
"I'm trying," Scott insisted, head tipped up, eyes fading from red to brown and back again.
"It's still happening," Kira's dad sighed, sounding defeated already, which irritated me.
Scott exhaled, swallowing thickly as he glanced over at me. Shutting my eyes, I focused on forcing my vampiric features from my face. When I opened them again, the blood and veins were gone, but my fangs remained poking out from between my lips. "Best I can do," I said around the fangs, and with a sigh the wolf turned to the coyote.
"I can't make them go back," Malia admitted with a huff, holding up both hands, revealing a full set of gruesome, glinting claws.
Mr Yukimura sighed, like a doctor might before delivering bad news. "Obviously the virus is affecting the three of you in a way it won't hit any human being," he told us slowly, a weary look on his face.
"You guys have to stay out of sight," Stiles said instantly, looking between the three of us carefully. "We have to quarantine you...from the quarantine."
There was a paused, then Kira spoke up, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah, but where?" she asked, posing an interesting question. "I mean what if they get violent, like on a full moon?"
"We shouldn't stay in here," Scott said immediately. "Not in a locker room."
"A classroom is not gonna hold us," Malia interjected with a shake of her head.
"Neither is any storage closet," I added, running my hands down my face and ignoring the way my body was screaming with the need to feed.
"What about the basement?" Kira suggested quickly.
"Too many ways out," Scott said. "We need somewhere secure, somewhere nobody could find us."
There was a lengthy pause as we all considered this. I couldn't think of anywhere, at least, nowhere in the school, but then Stiles spoke up; always the one to figure it out. "The vault," he said stonily, and we all looked up at him in surprise. "The Hale vault."
"The Hale's always have an escape route, like their house," Scott agreed. "There has to be another way in."
I could only hope, for the safety of everyone, that he was right.
"Okay, this is where the school sign is, so the vault's gotta be right about here," Stiles was saying, leaning over the blueprints of the school that he'd found in the office, but I was having trouble concentrating, everything flowing and ebbing in and out of focus. I swallowed around the dryness of my throat, closing my eyes as the lights above began to give me a headache.
"If there was a second entrance, it would probably be accessible from the basement," Mr Yukimura said, his voice like an annoying buzzing in the back of my head, making me want to lash out. I bit back against the urge, focusing on breathing in and out through my mouth, hoping it would calm me some.
"It's probably somewhere in this hallway," my human was saying. "This corridor..." he leaned over, and I opened my eyes just as he collapsed into the teacher.
"Stiles," I gasped, materialising at his side, holding him up but finding him to almost be too heavy for me to sustain.
"Whoa," he breathed, blinking open his eyes and swallowing loudly, before looking down at his wrist, which I now saw was covered in the horrid welts and rash that had plagued the other humans.
"It's happening to you too," Mr Yukimura murmured gravely, and I clutched at Stiles tighter. He could now hold himself up, but I wasn't about to let go for anything. "You're getting sick," he said. "You all are."
He began to speak with his daughter, but I was more focused on Stiles. "Are you okay?" I asked him gently, reaching up to press and hand to his head. His skin was hotter than usual, and very clammy, but my mind was everywhere at once, and I was struggling to figure out what to do to help him.
Was there anything I could do?
"I'm alright," he assured me in an undertone. "Are you?" He reached out a hand, covering mind with his own. I was drawn closer by his warmth and smell. I leant in closer, inhaling deeply, only to rip myself away when my eyes filled with blood against my will.
"We've got to get away from the humans," I snapped to the group, struggling to get the words out around my mouthful of fangs. "Now," I hissed, and the history teacher gulped, nodding for us to head in the direction of the basement. I left first, shoving my way out into the brightly lit corridor. I grunted against the light, lifting a hand to cover my eyes, which had begun to sting.
"This way," Stiles said quickly, jogging in the direction of the stairs leading to the basement. I followed, my movements feeling sluggish and heavy, but I soldiered on, knowing I needed to get out of sight before somebody got a look at my face and ran through the town-centre screaming 'vampire'.
The stairs were particularly difficult to tackle, but I kept a tight grip on the railing, forcing myself to get to the bottom, deciding to stop breathing altogether when the burn of thirst in my throat got too much to handle.
We filed into the corridor next to the basement, and I came up in the rear, trying not to stagger like a drunken idiot. Everything was so bright, my head felt like it was going to explode.
"Hey, guys," it felt like only seconds later, though it was actually more like minutes, Stiles was speaking, drawing out attention to a wall on the far end of the hall, "over here." The boys pushed the weak shelving out of the way, revealing a wall with a giant triskelion etched into it's surface. "Look at the cracks on the wall," Stiles said quickly. "It's like the entrance outside, it only opens with claws." There was a long, pregnant pause as I realised there was no way we were going to get in. The only person who could open it was a Hale, and we were fresh out of those.
I cussed under my breath, lifting a hand to my pounding head.
"Anyone's claws, right?" Stiles continued hurriedly, and I looked up in confusion. I opened my mouth to argue, but as though sensing my coming words, Stiles turned and fixed me with a pointed glare that instantly shut me up. I felt too sick to talk, anyhow.
"Malia, can you try?" Scott asked abruptly, and the were-coyote looked bewildered.
"Why me?" she asked cynically.
"I don't have control," the alpha murmured back, and because I felt woozy in the head, I desperately wanted to call 'bullshit', but a look from Stile stopped me again. Confused, I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Okay, I'll do it," she agreed after a long, tense pause. "But first tell me what you've been hiding from me."
This time, the pause was longer, and far more awkward. Keeping from her? What did she mean? We weren't keeping anything from her. Not that I knew of, anyway.
"I know you think you're trying to protect me," the coyote said blithely. "But I can handle it."
The boys looked properly chastised, and their hearts were racing in their chests. Beyond confused, I stared at them, trying to work out what the fuck was happening. They didn't make eye contact, with either of us, and I scowled, feeling too sick to be in the mood to deal with shit like this.
"I know I'm on the list!" Malia finally blurted, exasperated with having to say it herself.
Another pause, this one different, filled with...relief? With a gasp, I realised exactly what was happening, my stupid, virus-addled brain struggling to put it together. I'd seen Malia's name on the list only the day before.
Malia Hale.
That's what was happening. And that's what was being kept from her. But why?
"Yes," Stiles murmured seriously, his pulse continued to race. It was obvious, now, that he was lying, and doing a very poor job of it too.
"So how much?" Malia asked simply, completely oblivious.
"How much what?"
"How much am I worth?" she bit back impatiently.
"Four million," Scott replied evenly.
Malia turned her gaze down, expression pensive. "Are you okay?" Stiles shifted forwards, a wary, sympathetic look on his face.
"Yeah!" she exclaimed without care. "Scott's worth twenty-five, Jules twenty and Kira six," she said callously. "They'll take you guys out way before me."
She brushed past them, slipping up beside the door and shoving her claws into the slot. "Progress," Stiles muttered, turning to glance at me, catching the lethal scowl overtaking my features. He winced, and I knew that he knew that I knew about Malia.
We're talking about this, I said unmistakeably with my eyes, and he gave a reluctant grimace, knowing exactly what was going through my head.
From ahead of us the vault door creaked open, sliding apart with the grinding sound of stone-on-stone, revealing the large, spacious Hale vault in all it's dusty glory. The others stepped inside, and I started walking too, only to run smack-bang into that fucking invisible barrier that I'd grown so acquainted with.
I cussed, and the others turned from inside to look out at me.
"Malia, you wanna invite me inside?" I asked in nothing more than a grunt, my throat aching to be wet with hot, fresh blood.
"Me?" the were-coyote sounded bewildered. She was a Hale, as I now knew, and as such, the only person in the room able to grant me access.
"You – uh, you opened the door!" Stiles interjected before she could put two and two together. "So you need to invite her in."
Malia looked wary. "That's how it works?" she asked confusedly.
"Apparently," I grit out darkly, and Stiles winced again as Malia spoke.
"Come in, Juliet," she said with a nod, and relieved, I slipped inside the dark, dank room just as the door began to slide shut once more, sealing all of us inside it's large, stone walls.
"What now?" Kira asked, nervously running her sweaty palms down the material of her pants.
"Now we wait," Scott sighed.
Malia was the first to feel weak, and she curled up in a ball on the ground, her head resting in Stiles' lap. Although this made me uncomfortable, I couldn't begrudge her the gift of the comfort that I knew Stiles alone could provide. I sat down next to him, pulling the sick were-coyote's feet onto my lap and gently patting at her hot legs with my cold hands, hoping that it would, in some small way, help.
"You know, this is where it all started," Stiles murmured, breaking the thick, heavy silence that had fallen over all of us, each feeling sicker by the minute. "That's where the money was," he said, pointing to a small safe that sat in the corner, rusted and cracked open. "117 million in bearer bonds."
"How do you even change bearer bonds into cash?" Kira questioned curiously, turning away and idly beginning to lift the jars lining shelving on the walls, peeking inside each and giving a cringe when she didn't like was she saw.
"The bank, I guess," Stiles murmured, casting me a look to elaborate. I shook my head, knowing I had to breathe to speak, and that wasn't a very good idea right now, not with Stiles' scent marinating in the confined room like ribs in an oven. "They just let it sit here the whole time, collecting dust," the human added, and I closed my eyes, tipping my head back and patting Malia's leg in an even rhythm, listening as her heart rate slowed. "You know bearer bonds are basically extinct?"
"Why does it matter?"
"You know how many problems that money could solve?" Stiles asked, heart stuttering in his chest. I looked over at him, curious about the longing in his voice. What did he need money for? What problems did he mean?
"For you?" Kira questioned curiously.
"Me, my dad," he answered, and I noticed with a start that he was avoiding looking at me, keeping his eyes firmly on Scott and Kira, who sat across from us on some overturned boxes. "The Eichen House, and the MRI bills are crushing him."
I didn't know that. I hadn't even considered that, which only reaffirmed the fact that I was a terrible excuse for a person. Stiles was struggling, apparently just barely keeping his head above water, and I'd been so concerned with myself and my own problems that I hadn't stopped to notice him grappling for air.
He still wouldn't look at me, but I took the opportunity to stare at him, watching the emotions of defeat and helplessness wage war across his face.
"Mom does this thing," Scott spoke up, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from Stiles. "She writes down all the items in our budget and how much they cost, and then she adds it all up and figures out how long we have...until we lose the house."
Deciding I couldn't look at any of them, I turned back to face the wall and closed my eyes tight. I'd been selfish, forgetting these kids had real world problems too, instead of just supernatural ones. Sometimes it was easy to forget that every action had a reaction, and that every choice had a consequence.
I took in a deep breath, forcing myself not to take note of the delicious scents in the air. I was hungry enough that even the wolves' were starting to smell appetising.
"You okay, Jules?" Stiles asked, having heard my heavy breaths. I turned to look at him, eyes glinting bloody red in the low lighting of the vault.
"I'm managing," I told him. From his lap, Malia groaned, pushing herself upright with a pained grunt. "You alright there, coyote?" I asked her, reaching out a hand so it hovered over her shoulder. She radiated heat, the fever running through her body was stifling.
"Hm," she groaned vaguely, using a hand to fan herself as she rocked back so she was leant up against the box behind us, eyes drooping shut.
"Jules," Scott said quickly, standing to his feet as Kira wandered over to us, crouching down near Malia and watching her closely. She nodded to me, a silent promise that she would look after her, and I was relieved as I climbed to my feet, shuffling over to where Scott stood by the large stone door. "You hear that?" he asked me, and I cocked my head, focusing in on the faint sounds coming from the floor above us.
I nodded, meeting his eyes as I listened to them call our names, trepidation filling my gut. There was a hushed conversation from behind us, before Stiles was padding over, looking even more pale than usual.
"What's going on?" Stiles whispered, coming to a stop beside me.
"They're looking for us," Scott revealed, glancing up at the ceiling with concern. He looked between the two of us wearily. "Someone's gonna have to go out there."
It couldn't be Scott or Malia, there was every chance they'd go rabid. It couldn't be me, for similar reasons. That left Stiles and Kira, and if we were taking a vote, I was gonna go with the kitsune. She was the one least likely to kill someone on her way out. Stiles also stood a chance, but like hell was I letting him out of my sight.
The boys turned to look at where Kira and Malia now sat, both clammy and weary. I glanced too, my brow furrowing deeply as I took in the quick thudding of Malia's racing pulse.
"We need to tell her the truth about Peter," Scott said suddenly, his voice a whisper that I was sure the were-coyote wasn't going to be able to hear in her condition. "She's gonna see the rest of the dead pool eventually," he murmured when Stiles shot him a reluctant look.
I tipped my head back against the cool stone of the entrance, the bump sending a jolt through my bloodlust addled brain.
From the far right, a cockroach scurried up the wall, the sound of it's little legs moving like beats on a drum. Scott's breathing was low and steady, but to me it could have been the terrifying winds of a monsoon. Stiles' human heart pumped in his chest, each thump like a gunshot to my ears.
"Try to remember that Peter's the one name missing on that list," Stiles was saying, a point I had yet to take note of. I wanted to consider this, think on it more, but the way my skin seemed to burn made it difficult to concentrate. "Which either makes him incredibly lucky, or the Benefactor." There was a lengthy pause, and I subtly shifted away from the boys as I felt my gums ache, my fangs aching to be revealed."She finds out about him, she's gonna go to him, you know she is. And then he's going to twist his way into her head like he does with everyone – including us."
He kept talking, but his voice had become nothing but a hum that wouldn't go away. My stomach ached, raw and pulsing with the need for the only thing that would ever truly satiate me.
"Jules?"
The call of my name from Stiles' lips broke through the haze of incessant buzzing around me. I tilted my head in reaction but kept myself angled away, staring at the far wall with eyes that just wouldn't focus. I could see the tiny indents in the concrete slab, see each particle of dust like they were some kind of grotesque snowflakes.
"Jules?" This time the call came from Scott, but I didn't move. I felt like turning at this point would only make me throw up what little blood I had left in my system.
"Something's wrong," I could hear Stiles muttering, and I grit my teeth together as my ears once more tuned into the wet thudding on his heart. "Juliet?!"
A hand dropped onto my shoulder and I spun around, a kind of animalistic snarl ripping from my mouth, unlike any I'd heard myself make before. Scott was standing before me, and he'd flinched back at the sound of the roar.
"Jules," Stiles said softly, and I blinked rapidly, desperately trying to make my eyes focus on him, though he was nothing more than a hazy shape in the shadows. A hand reached out, and I knew it was human from the pulse that beat beneath the skin, but I forced my jaws to seal tightly, keeping them safely shut even if my lips did peel back so my deadly fangs were on proud display. "What's happening to you?" Stiles whispered, the outstretched digits brushing my face.
I realised with a start that my cheeks were wet, and I pulled away, narrowing my eyes as I peered down at his fingers with difficulty. Staining his fingertips weren't tears, or even blood, instead it was a thick, black substance that made my stomach crawl.
"Sit down," Scott instructed me, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my mouth, collapsing to the ground without hesitation.
"Chains," I murmured to the werewolf, not knowing how many minutes of clarity I had left.
"What?" he asked, bewildered.
"Chain me," I ordered in a bark. "Now."
"Jules, I can't-"
"If you don't, somebody will die," I responded without hesitation. It made me feel worse, admitting as much, but I had to be honest.
There was a weighty silence, and I could feel my pupils begin expanding and retracting uncontrollably. I was completely losing control of myself; if this wasn't dealt with soon, I wouldn't be me anymore.
The demon would take charge.
"There aren't any chains," Kira was muttering, and I wasn't sure how much time had passed, though it had obviously been enough to search the room for restraints.
I blinked intently, my eyes continuing to leak black fluid, the stench of it rotten, like I had a cancer growing within me that was slowly seeping out.
The human in the room crouched down in front of me where I was pressed up against the wall. "Jules," Stiles' voice was soft and concerned, but I couldn't focus my eyes on him to see his expression. The room spun, and I began to scratch at the floor, like I might be able to anchor myself in one place and stop the spinning.
"What's happening?" I asked, my voice surprisingly clear, like I was perfectly healthy and didn't feel like I was about to keel over and die.
"We think it's an attack from the assassins," Stiles revealed quietly, and I nodded, cringing when it only made me more nauseas. "We don't have any chains, so we can't tie you up."
"No," I gasped, hands leaving the concrete floor to grasp onto the lapels of his shirt, clutching at them like a lifeline. "That's bad," I hissed in a whisper, tugging him closer. "I don't want to hurt anybody, Stiles," I told him emphatically. "Not again. Never again."
"I know, love," he murmured, and warm skin pressed to my hands, covering them with his own. "You've just gotta hold on."
"Until what?" I asked, a hint of bitterness in my tone that I cared little to disguise. "Until we die down here, each of us, from this fucking supernatural disease?"
Stiles let out a huff that wasn't quite a laugh, reaching a hand up to my hair, stroking down the long inky strands until his hand gripped at my arm. "We have a plan," he admitted. "But it involves me leaving."
"No," I hissed immediately, clutching tighter at his lapels, enough that I heard the material begin to rip ever so slightly. "Out of the question."
"Jules, it's the only way," he said. "I'll be right back."
"I'd rather die together than apart," I murmured sullenly, and again, he let out a laugh that sounded painfully fond, and though I couldn't yet see anything, I knew he was smiling at me in a way that made even my frozen heart leap.
"When did you become such a pessimist?"
"Roughly 1942," I answered with a surprising amount of wit.
Stiles chuckled again, and once more I felt his hand stroke down the length of my hair. "Nobody's going to die," he assured me. "But only if I go, and now."
More wetness spilled out over my cheeks, which I found odd, because I didn't feel like I was crying. "For the record, I'm against it," I told him reluctantly. He let out a huff, then reached to where I still held him by his lapels, gently prying my hands from the material.
In a move almost too tender for me to comprehend, he brought my hands to his face, pressing his lips lightly against my unnaturally cool and clammy skin. I closed my eyes and leant back against the wall.
"Check on Malia," I ordered him drowsily, breathing stubbornly through my mouth in an effort to not be tempted by the scents swimming through the air.
"Already have, she's fine," Stiles assured me.
"And Kira?" I pressed anxiously, keeping my eyes shut tight, knowing the chances of my being able to make anything out were low anyhow. "She's okay, right?"
"Kira's fine," Stiles voice sounded further away, though it was still comfortingly clear. "Scott too."
"Scott can take care of himself," I muttered, curling in on myself as the acid in my stomach seemed to burn. There was one final, adoring chuckle, then the sound of stone against stone as the heavy door rumbled shut, and we were once again left in darkness.
It seemed like an eternity, as it always did when I was faced with unbearable hunger. My insides screamed at me, intestines rubbing together like sandpaper. I swallowed around an impossibly dry throat, lifting a hand to my neck and scratching, like I might be able to reach inside and rub it better.
"I can't see," someone was suddenly saying, and I felt dread pool in my burning gut like lead. My only hope was that Stiles had gotten out, gotten to safety and acquired the cure.
More voices, more noises that I couldn't place. I felt like I was mummifying, my body drying even as I hacked up mouthful after mouthful of that thick, disgusting substance that told me my body was dying. I wondered if a virus could kill me permanently. I didn't think it could, I was pretty sure I was just going to go into hibernation, my body drying; for all intents and purposes, dead, until somebody came with the kiss of true love – or, more accurately, blood – to wake me up again. I supposed that was an alright fate, I just wished it didn't hurt so damn much.
A shattering sound, like glass had broken, then an odd scent carried on the dusty air of the vault, like something wild and tangy. I breathed it in, tasting it on my tongue.
My insides warmed again, but this time not so much from pain as it was pleasure. Instead of a hot poker, it was like warm coals, and I felt the sensation spread throughout my entire body, running along every nerve ending, until my skin was buzzing pleasantly with energy.
Slowly but surely, the unfocused shadows in my vision began to fade, and my lungs didn't scream in protest every time I took a breath. I shuddered, shakily sitting upright and lifting my hands, more than shocked to find them not shaking.
The feeling like I was underwater began to recede, the sounds ceasing to be muted and hard to process. Instead everything was crystal clear, a million times better than mere moments ago, and I blinked, feeling wetness at my cheeks. Reaching up, I ran the backs of my hands under my eyes, wiping at the thick, congealed substance that had accumulated there like some kind of rotting blood.
I spun around, catching sight of Kira slowly but surely pulling herself upright, and Malia groaning as she pressed a hand to her head. The door was rumbling open again, and I slowly stood to my feet. The world tipped like I was on a cheap carnival ride, but I pressed a hand against the wall and stopped moving, waiting for the nausea to pass.
I needed blood, and I needed it now.
All thoughts of feeding fled my mind, however, when hurried footsteps slammed against the concrete, heading unwaveringly in my direction. I turned slowly so as to not upset my still spinning head, in time to see Stiles come to an abrupt stop just inches from me.
"Are you okay?" I asked without letting him speak, catching the scent of blood and staring at him with wide, concerned eyes, taking in the blood splatters coating his face and shirt.
"I'm fine," he murmured impatiently, clearly the last thing he wanted was to talk about himself. He reached out thoughtlessly, hands coming up to cup delicately at my face. The movement was tender, and I felt my still heart give a mutinous squeeze inside my chest. "Please tell me that you're alright," he begged, swallowing hard as his eyes stared into mine, brown meeting green in a motion that was so achingly familiar. Gently, his thumbs brushed at the apples of my cheeks, no doubt swiping at some of the leakage I'd missed.
"I'm alright," I murmured to him, reaching up myself, the cold skin of my hands pressing against his own, brilliantly warm skin. I leaned into his touch, trying not to make the way I nuzzled at his hands too obvious. His heart stuttered wetly in his chest. "I am starving, though," I joked with a forced laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm before gently pulling his hands away.
He seemed to understand what I was doing: putting distance between us so I wouldn't be as tortured by his scent or the pulse of his blood under his skin.
A shadow passed over us, and I turned to see Malia stalking from the room, in some sort of daze.
"Malia?" I called warily, listening to the way her heart was slamming against her ribs. She reeked of devastation. "Malia!" I yelled, stepping around a confused Stiles and reaching out, pressing a hand to the were-coyote's shoulder.
She spun around with a hiss, shoving my hand from her shoulder, a furious snarl in place on her pretty face. Frowning, I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong. Was she still feeling sick? Had the cure not worked for her?
She turned, stalking from the room, hands balled into fists.
"Jules," Stiles said from behind me, and though I was still concerned, I looked back at him. He was holding a slip of paper in his hand, a look of dismay pasted across his features. Taking three large steps forwards, he handed me the paper, and wary, I peeked down at it, noticing with perturbation that it was the final third of the dead pool.
There, in simple black lettering, read the one thing we'd all been keeping from the were-coyote. One look at the paper, and she'd known everything.
Malia Hale.
A/N: Hey guys! Another chapter for you all – and I have news!
I've decided that I'm not going to be writing season 6 into this story, and at this point, I'm not sure I'll be doing season 5 either. Instead, I'll be writing an entirely original season, based mostly on Stiles, Jules, and the pros and cons of vampirism...that's all I'll say on it for now! ;)
Please let me know if you desperately want season 5, and if there's enough outcry, I'll do it, but season 6 is definitely completely out.
I'm working intensely on my new story, which I'm excited to announce is going to be a Fred Weasley/OC. It will span every year at Hogwarts and beyond, but my biggest question is, is that something you'd like to be rated M or not? Should I keep things G-rated, or take things to a darker, more realistic level? A lot of it's already written, but I'm still working tirelessly and editing constantly, so please let me know your thoughts!
I love you all! xoxo
