"Erica, shut up. You don't know anything." Stiles spat at her.

A... what?

"Why are you acting like this? What am I not the right kind of monster for you?"

Ah, quoting Twilight I see.. but seriously, did she just call me a-

"Erica, this isn't about us!"

"Oh, so is there an us?"

"Erica!" Stiles growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No!" She snarled. "We kissed. I'm not going to ignore that."

Stiles sighed. "I'm not ignoring it, Erica. There is just something more important right now."

Erica laughed, no amusement to her eyes. "It just so conveniently has to do with her."

And with that, she walked away.

A witch? A freaking witch?

Like the spell casting, black cat having, a warty nose witch.

I rubbed my nose, completely smooth. It sent a little relief through me.

"I'm not a-" I started, dizzy. "I-I mean, I would know if I was a-"

I couldn't conclude a sentence. Nothing made sense.

Too much had happened today, too much to take in.

"The Bestiary talks of witches." Allison sighed.

"It does?" Scott gaped.

Allison nodded, looking at me, only at me.

"It was one word, Lamia, it kept coming up in a section." She had a hand on her forehead.

"I didn't think anything of it." Allison was shaking.

"Do you know what it said?" Stiles asked, pleaded.

Allison looked at Stiles who moved closer to her, he had a hand on her arm, he was rubbing circles into her sweater. Trying to calm her down, trying to make her breathe.

She nodded harshly.

"The Lamia is the rememdium, the cure." She whispered.

I was a cure, a cure to what?

"What the hell does that mean?" Stiles groaned.

"Witches have been used for centuries to fix supernatural problems." Derek explained.

He walked back into the empty space with another large text, this one even older.

"Seriously, man, where are you getting these things from?" Stiles combed a hand through his hair.

I nudged Stiles roughly in the stomach and smiled when he grunted.

Derek smirked before turning his attention back to the book.

"Peter wants you to mix our blood, it's something I only thought was a myth."

"Really? A myth?" Stiles scoffed. "You're a werewolf!"

Derek ignored him, continuing.

"Mixing our blood will bind us, it will make us equal." He sighed.

"If it works, he can come back and kill me."

"Kill you?" Allison mumbled weakly.

"There's a chance he could overpower me then."

There was something I didn't like about his eyes, like he was imagining just that happening.

"So we kill him first." Scott declared.

Allison shook her head, looking towards the cold ground.

"Scott, he's already dead." Stiles glared. "How can we kill a dead guy?"

Everyone looked to Derek, he seemed to be the one with all the answers, but looking at the older werwolf now just made me realize how alone and over his head he really was. He had no clue what he was doing and I felt somewhat bad for him. I doubt he asked for this either.

"Cut out his heart." I croaked. I had no idea where it came from.

There was no cynical bite to it that I knew would come out of Stiles' mouth if he had the chance.

Something in me just knew.

"He's dead, Lydia. What's that going to do?" Scott asked, waiting for appeasement.

I sighed. "I don't know!" I snapped. "Think of a better idea." I threw my hands up.

"No, no." Stiles mumbled, "I read something about that!"

"Google again?" Derek quipped.

Stiles' eyes narrowed.

"No, you either cut off a werewolves head or tear out his heart to kill him."

"But since he's already dead-" I started.
"Then taking out his heart would take away-" Stiles paused, searching for a word.
"His soul, I guess." His eyes stared into mine. I smiled. This teamwork thing, it could work.

"This sounds fun, really guys it does. But how the hell are we going to do that?"

Erica's voice came from the shadows, it was dark and angry.

"We'll think of a way." Stiles shrugged. "Derek, where is the body."

"Under the Hale house." I answered for him, it's where my mind kept sending me to.

Where he kept sending me to. It had to be there.

"Real-lyyyy" Stiles exaggerated.

Derek clenched his jaw.

Before anyone else could say anything there was a crash, the large door smashing into its locks and footsteps pounding the cement below us, it shook everything. Out of the dim lighting came Issac and the larger than life Boyd who I never actually spoke to before. He started at everyone, surprised.

"Derek, we found him." Issac panted.

"Where?" He demanded.

"Jackson?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah. He's human at the moment and shooting lacrosse balls on the field at school."

"I don't know how much time we have, we should go now-" Boyd's deep voice rang.

Derek nodded, shutting the old book and leading the way out.

"Scott, you come with me. Erica, you stay here with them, figure out a way to do this."

Erica nodded, already at the table opening books again. Stiles ran over immediately helping her.

"Do not do anything until I get back." He growled, then left. Scott, Issac and Boyd in tow.

I smiled weakly at Allison who still had her eyes planted on the spot Scott left from. I could see how much this bothered her, not Scott being a werewolf, just Scott putting himself in danger.

"I have to call my dad, tell him I'm at your house. I left so fast he's probably thinking the worse."

I nodded at her as she walked away. Sighing, I turned around, watching them search through books.

Wolf and human.

Girl and boy.

Erica and Stiles.

They had this sort of connection that I envied. They had fought several times tonight, all over me, and here they were, side by side working together, trying their hardest to figure it all out. I sighed. Why didn't I see how great he was? Erica did, and she would never let me forget that. She would never, ever let me live it down if he chooses me over her. I'm not even worthy. I thought we shared at least one thing, I had thought of it the whole way to this abandoned place. I thought of the fact that in all this chaos that our lives became, we were both normal, affected, of course, but human. We had that. Above all else. And now, now Erica was telling me I was a witch. I didn't know the first thing about being a witch. Was it like Harry Potter or Hocus Pocus? I sighed rubbing my eyes. I really was tired. I sat and watched from this huge black chest as they muttered to each other, their eyes barley leaving the ancient pages they were reading. Stiles looked so invested, Erica, satisfyingly challenged. They were enjoying this? I covered my face with my hand. A nap wouldn't kill me.

I yawned and used Stiles' hoodie as a pillow, letting my eyes slip closed and darkness to consume me.

"I'm waiting Lydia." He hissed.

"This isn't going to work. You're not going to get what you want."

He laughed, musically.

"You think you're smarter than me? You are a sixteen year old girl." He spat.

"Maybe, but you need me."

He grimaced.

"You need a witch, what makes you think I can even do it?"

"Every witch knows what to do given the proper context. I have no doubt that you'd do the same."

He smiled coyly.

"You're a bright girl."

"I am a witch then?"

"You tell me?" He breathed and I shivered, immediately jumping up, out of sleep.

I couldn't be a witch. I just couldn't.

Stiles had sat next to me again. Peter was in my dreams, he was waiting behind my eyes. I couldn't go back there, I couldn't fall asleep. Stiles smiled weakly at me, he looked exhausted himself.

"Take a nap." I whispered.

"And miss all the fun?" He teased. "I'm good, but you should."

I shook my head. "No. He's waiting for me."

"He can't hurt you Lydia."

"I did a lot of research on minds and dreams these last few weeks Stiles, our minds are way stronger and vivid than we could even possibly fathom. I'm not sleeping until this is over."

Stiles smiled at me. Looking down first, he reached over and grabbed my hand.

"Then lets go kill a dead werewolf." He grinned, giving my hand a squeeze.

"This! This is it!" Stiles exclaimed, his voice seething with pride.

"What?" Allison stood next to him, reading the section he pointed to.

"A laced silver sword?" Allison asked skeptically. "Stiles, this isn't a movie!"

"Does this book look like a script, Allison?" He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Guys, I've seen that." Erica pointed to something on the page.

"Really?" Stiles' eyes lit up.

"Where?" Allison scoffed.

"Derek has it." She mumbled quietly.

I covered my face with my hands and groaned. We were in over our heads and that takes a lot for me to say. I liked a challenge as much as the next girl, but this was insane. I didn't believe in this stuff. I believed in science and equations and the mall! I didn't believe in werwolves playing lacrosse and my ex boyfriend turning into a huge reptile, and I did not believe in witches or that there was even a sliver of a chance that I was one. Please. But it was real, because Scott was a werewolf and I was channeling a dead one... for god sake I was fighting one over Stiles Stilinski, if this wasn't the craziest dream I ever had, I honestly don't know anything. I watched the three of them hovering over the large leather book, they were giving everything they had for this because they did believe in it, and they were trying to save me, well, along with the rest of Beacon Hills. I thought about everything that I had read, everything I researched, everything that has lead me here, to right now watching my friends...and Erica seriously sit and fight about a big knife. At least I knew I wasn't crazy right? But I'm not sure if I would rather want to be crazy or be a freaking witch. Right now, I couldn't decided what was worse.

"Lydia!" Stiles called. I jumped at his voice.

"Do you think this would work?" He asked, shoving the book into my face.

I pushed it away harshly, glaring. "Sorry." He muttered sheepishly.

I licked my lips and sighed, looking at the hand drawn dagger on the yellowed page.

"How am I supposed to know if it will work, Stiles?" I snapped.

"Someone's cranky." Erica snickered.

Stiles didn't even look phased. He held the book up a little higher and smiled at me.

"Just think, really hard, Lydia." He was so sincere, so hopeful. I couldn't let him down.

I thought about that book on witchcraft I mocked in the library, the day I overhead Stiles and Erica talking. I thought of every weird word, odd notion, pathetically random sentence in that book. I didn't even know why we would have that in a school library, but I thought about it, herbs were what I noticed most on the pages, different spices and plants that seemed more appropriate for a vegan cook book. But there was a page, one that talked of weapons. Why would a witch need a weapon when they had magical powers, I remember wondering and laughing at it's inaccuracy when I knew next to little about what a witch even could do. I didn't even believe in them, I still don't know if I can. But there was a knife, it looked nothing like the one before me, but I suppose it was up to interpretation. The one I saw was smooth and sharp, it didn't look like the jagged thing in front of my face, the one in the witch book looked good and this one just looked evil. Definitely up to interpretation.

I could barley get a nod out before the door smashed open again and they all came flooding in, looking much different than before they left.

"Scott!" Allison yelled, running to him.

I smiled, despite the tension in the room. They were in love, and I wanted that.

I fought the urge to look at Stiles when I thought that, mostly because he wasn't looking at me.

"What happened?"

"He's insane. I swear to god I am going to kill him the next time-" Derek growled.

He had this look of murder in his eyes, and I knew he was one hundred percent serious.

"Derek-"

"No Scott!" He bellowed. Derek walked away, smearing blood on his face while he tried to wipe his eye. The room was silent. Erica had walked over to the two other boys asking them quietly if they were okay. Boyd nodded and clapped her on the shoulder. They were all fine, except for Derek. He was the worst. His shirt was ripped and bloody, nail marks, most likely and grass stains on his large hands.

"He's getting even stronger." Issac groaned.

"This friendly game of catch isn't going to work much longer."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I would love him dead as much as you but we can't do that."

I looked at Stiles, he wanted Jackson dead? Sure he wasn't making their lives easier but, it was Jackson.

"Stiles is right." Scott yelled. "We're not killing him. We'll find a way to-"
"When Scott?" Derek demanded. "If you haven't noticed we have a lot to take care of."

He pinched his bridge.

"What did you guys find?"

"Give us your bad ass sword that you probably keep in your sock drawer and we'll be good."

Stiles grinned, walking over to Derek with Erica.

"What sword?"

"The one that I've seen in that chest." Erica answered. "The book says that we need to use that."

"Why do you even have that?" Stiles asked.

"It was my Aunts, she was human. It was just in case any one of us.." Derek's voice died out.

I looked away. My eyes landing on the floor where a small pool of blood laid abandoned. Blood, Derek's blood. There was an unnerving feeling within me, a voice that was not mine telling me to get it. Telling me to get it and run. I had to fight that voice, right? I couldn't do that. I wasn't going to let some evil zombie werewolf resurrect and kill everyone I care about. But he'd kill Stiles if I didn't.

I looked back, everyone now crowding around the chest Erica was talking about, the one I had been sleeping on. I dug through the pockets of Stiles' hoddie and found a water bottle cap. Convenient, I thought. I quickly scraped the plastic cap on the ground in the blackening pool of blood and ran as fast as I could from that place. The thing was, I don't think I had any control of it. I didn't want to actually do it. But Stiles, his face was all I could see, Peter was making me see. He was smiling at me, about to kiss me, and then he was pale, fear in his eyes, then he was bloody on the ground, his throat slashed.

I blinked it all away as I ran through the darkness and street lamps, racing back to the woods.

"Damn it, I'm coming." I hissed to the wind, though I knew he could hear me.

By the time I had reached the woods my lungs felt like they were about to explode. I gasped for air, panting and ignoring the sharp pain that followed. I was here, finally. I crept towards the house, even bigger and mysterious at night and opened the door, it creaked loudly like any good horror movie. I rolled my eyes and walked in.

"Hello?" I called.

"Come." The eery voice hissed. I followed silently.

I was back in that large room, I suppose was once the living room. The fireplace was chard and useless, the floorboards splintered and dusty. I remembered the house from my nightmares, before the fire, before the terrible things that happened. It was beautiful, and I wanted to imagine that now, but I couldn't not with his voice in my head, not when I had a job to do.

"I brought it, now what?" I yelled, aggravated.

"Close your eyes."

I took a deep breathe and licked my lips.

Then I did as I was told.

The house was restored, and beautiful and even though I was still in a nightmare with a monster, it made me feel a little better. Anything was better than that all consuming blackness.

"Lydia." Peter cooed.

I walked over to that black velvet chair.

"Did you bring what I asked for?" But he knew I did.

I sighed and pulled my hand out of the pocket, my thumb stoppering the top.

"Hope it's enough." I sneered.

Peter smiled and I jumped, ready to see fangs.

"Here." I pushed the little plastic cap at him, wanting to be rid of it.

He stood quickly, surprisingly fast.

My brows furrowed.

"Lydia! Lydia!"

"It must be boiled." He cleared his throat, eyes landing on the blood.

"Boiled?" I asked lamely. This was insane.

"Yes." He hissed, moving out of the way for me to see a small table. Besides for the chair and fireplace, it was the only other thing in the whiteness. I sighed and walked over to it. On the table was a Bunsen burner, flasks and a small white bowl filled with a crushed green herb, purple seeds sprinkled into the mixture. I sighed and looked up at him. His face gave away nothing. I felt like I was back in chemistry class, Harris watching me like a Hawks. I placed the plastic cap down, my thumb coming off the top with a pop. A ring of dark blood circled the pad of my finger and I quickly wiped it off on my pants.

"Boil the blood and you will know the rest." He was even and vague.

"Lydia!"

I did not know the rest, how the hell was I supposed to? He disappeared after I started the fire, tapping the cap until all the blood I had collected drained into the glass flask I tried to take deep breaths, appear calmer than I really was. Why was I here? Why didn't I just fight that voice? Why wasn't I still with Stiles holding his hand and letting him tell me it would all be alright? The blood was steaming and it left this metallic stench to the room, it made my stomach lurch and my hands shake. I had to get out of here, I had to think of Stiles. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a good memory, but the fumes of Derek's blood polluted my mind, it started to turn black in it's flask, not just dark, but black, like the night sky, like my nightmares, like the burnt house I knew I was still in. the amount of it increased too, bubbling over, spilling and steaming. I gasped, moving as far away as I could from it.

I heard a crash and a snarl.

"W-what's happening?" I panicked.

Peter was eying me, I felt it. I took my eyes off the black ooze and regretted it.

Stiles. He had Stiles, his claw of a hand covering his mouth, his eyes explaining all the fear he had. I looked at him, helplessly. What the hell was I going to do.

"I am doing what you asked!" I screamed at Peter, irritated and worried. My eyes wouldn't leave him.

"This is just a precaution, Lydia. Now, finish."

"I don't know how!"

"Lydia! Come on! Lydia!"

"Of course you do."

I shook my head harshly watching as the room started to splatter with the black liquid.

"No, I-I don't. Please don't hurt him!"

Peter laughed, his blood red eyes dancing.

"He's expendable." Peter mentioned while a sharp finger traced his neck.

"No, he's not. He's, He's-" I looked at Stiles, he was breathing hard.

"I love him, okay. I love him, and I'm not a witch and we're supposed to be normal."

I yelled at the werewolf. He looked amused and I'd give anything to wipe that off his face.

I looked down, at the black bubbling liquid and grabbed for it before I even knew what I was doing.

I threw it, the flask landed at his feet with a shattering sound. Thick, clogged steam rose up around him, Stiles smothered by it.

"Oh god." I whispered, rushing towards it, letting it consume me.

I heard Peter's growls, his angry, and painful cries. I tried to ignore them.

"NO.." I heard his cry, and Stiles' strained breathes. "No" He yelled again.

"Lydia, wake up, you're killing him!"

My eyes opened then, gasping like I had been swimming to the surface for air. I blinked, past the tears and darkness I saw Stiles, I felt his hands on my wrists trying to pry me off. I felt his pulse jump beneath my hands the ones coiled around his neck. Oh god. I let go instantly, cowering away from him, as far away as I could. Oh god, what the hell did I do? Stiles coughed, rubbing his neck. Scott rushed towards him, Allison to me. Erica came into view, a large silver item in her hand, dead weight. She was panting too, and then with a loud clatter, dropped the sword. I closed my eyes. She did it. She cut his heart out, just like Erica would. When my eyes reopened I saw her at Stiles' side, his head in her lap. He smiled up at her weakly, swatting away her hands. She looked so concerned, was he okay?

"What the hell was that Lydia?" Allison asked, her voice was hard, but scared.

I looked up at her, away from a recovering Stiles and shrugged. "I don't know."

I looked back at him, and he looked at me.

He was okay.