Hey guys! Thank you so much for your wonderful notes – I simply love reading them. Since the show starts TONIGHT, I'm gonna have to shut off my direct link with Jeff Davis (serious – Real or Not Realwas a bit of a weird experiment, but I know that he wouldn't do any of the things I plan, I'm not really including Malia, and I don't have 'The Benefactor,' and nor do I intend to).

Kate's plan is revealed in this chapter – plus a lot of Stiles regression. Sorry! It was all a part of the plan… build him up, only to tear him back away. I actually got another idea for a story the other day, but it seems a bit too similar to this one (has to do with the sneak peek of the South America scene they teased, with Stiles going away for a long time and coming back with memory loss – and a nasty injury + therapy dog – but I don't know if people would want that one since I'm already writing one where Stiles has been gone for a while).

Also to Glarinetta: I got the PM which A) LOVED and B) AM writing back, but I'm trying to think everything through! I was simply flattered by everything, but trying to think of how I could do one-shots of it! I will respond soon – promise!

Anywho, here we go!

Chapter 10

It Seems like a Fair Trade

He knew she'd be here.

It's poetic, really. Well, if poetic meant completely deranged and sadistic, than yes, it was totally poetic. Stiles maneuvered his way around the burnt remains of the Hale house, his feet barely making a sound but he knows she hears.

She's there. He's certain of it.

"Still one for the dramatics, are we?" Stiles asks calmly, continuing through the hallways of the tragic building. "Kate, I know you're here. You may as well come out now."

A light clapping resounds in the big house and he feels smaller than usual, if that's even possible. Nowadays, Stiles feels pretty small regardless.

But when Kate Argent walks through a doorway, clapping her hands like he performed the most amazing magic trick there is, he feels positively tiny.

"Did we finally figure it out?" She asks condescendingly, cocking her head in a way that makes Stiles' anger break the surface. "Did you finally remember how to use your brain?"

Stiles clenches his teeth, but refuses to entertain her with a retort.

She steps closer to him, reaching out to stroke of his cheeks. "I can't decide whether I liked you better with your baby cheeks and adorable shaved haircut, or now with all the edges."

Stiles grabs her wrist before she can actually make contact with his cheek. "Can you not?" He snaps, but drops her hand when claws start elongating from her fingernails.

"Not so confident now that your pathetic little pack isn't here to save you, are we Stiles?" Kate laughs, but she does step away from him, pacing around the room. "But I take it you figured it out?"

"There are a few pieces that are missing, but I have a feeling that I'd have to live in your twisted mind to ever connect those." Stiles says, remaining rooted to the spot. He doesn't let the fear get to him. Or, at least tries. His heartbeat is picking up pace. But he's here by his own choice. At least, that's what he tells himself. "Why me? Is it revenge?"

"I would be lying if that wasn't a tinsy bit of it. But you still haven't answered my question, dear lamb."

"Resurrectio." Stiles says softly, know he doesn't need to strain his voice for the present audience. "Resurrection."

The grin on Kate's face stretches. "My wee lamb."

Stiles huffs at his nickname. "And you need a sacrifice. A lamb, if you will."

Kate's smile broadens. "Not just any sacrifice. A sacrifice given, not taken."

This doesn't surprise Stiles in the slightest. He's the one who showed up anyways.

"And who best to be the sacrifice of my dear niece's life than the one who murdered her in the first place?"

Stiles jaw twitches. He wants to scream out, yell, but he remains calm. "You murdered Nathan."

Kate shrugs, as if the act was as normal as breathing. "Some sacrifices need to be pushed." She turns on him, her eyes flashing and intense. "You are a danger to those around you, Stiles. As long as you exist, people are going to die."

Stiles feels a lump rising in his throat, but he can't quell it.

"…I know."

XXX

"I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it," Lydia's muttering to herself, pacing around Stiles' small room, which feels smaller with all the people crowded into it. It feels too similar, to real. She looks at the red string crossed around the room, linking everything up to the three photos in the middle of the wall. It's painful to even look at Allison's face, but she stares at it. There has to be something there.

Lydia pulls a few of the strings, but there's no sound like there was before. She closes her eyes, feeling herself close to tears, but refusing to let them fall. She finally realizes what is worse than hear the voices all the time.

Not hearing them at all.

The Sheriff looks haggard and like he's about to fall over at any moment. In fact, they all do. She wonders if he's struggling with this more, especially since this time, Stiles willingly left. No possession, no darkness around his heart. He simply… left.

"Arg!" Scott shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. His eyes flash red (involuntarily, Lydia guesses), making Isaac, Kira, Malia, and Derek wince a little. The whole werewolf-dynamic is something that will forever puzzle Lydia, much to her consternation. "There has to be something here! If Stiles could figure it all out in an hour, we should be able to do the same!"

"Son," The Sheriff says, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott's eyes fracture from their red state, turning back to their comforting brown at the older man's touch. "We will figure it out. He just… thinks differently than anyone else here. We need to stop trying to figure out from his perspective and start using our own."

Lydia blinks at the wisdom of the Sheriff, marveling how such simple words ease the tension in the room almost immediately. It's easy to see the resemblance of Sheriff and Stiles through their mannerisms and appearance, but it's moments like these that she genuinely is envious of the two's relationship. Stiles is the Sheriff's son, to be put simply.

She absently pulls the strings around the room, her fingers brushing against them.

"Wee lamb."

"Everybody shut up." Lydia snaps, whispers taunting her ears. She pulls the string again, but…

Nothing.

Everyone remains silent for a while, but Scott tentatively asks, "Did you hear something, Lydia?"

"I thought, I did," Lydia says softly, eyeing the Sheriff with apprehension from the last time she led everyone astray with her banshee powers. The Sheriff seems to recognize the hesitation because he gives her an encouraging nod. "But it didn't happen again."

Scott doesn't seem to register her uncertainty. "What did you hear?"

Lydia pulls more strings, the silence more infuriating each time. "Something about a lamb?"

Scott stiffens. "That's what Kate started calling Stiles."

Everyone looks at each other for a moment.

Finally, the Sheriff clears his throat, his eyes shining with tears, but never falling. "S-So what we n-ned to do," he clears his throat, making the catches of emotion sweep away, replaced with his stern authority. "Is assume that Kate has my son. We need to embrace the worst case scenario and prepare for such."

"But why Stiles?" Lydia asks, frustration lacing her voice. "She could've killed him at any time – why would she have done all of this to him? Why Nathan? Why attacking him, but never killing him?"

"Revenge?" Isaac whispers.

Derek clears his throat. "That would require having emotions. Keep in mind Kate was trained by Gerard – a man who was willing to murder his own family to get what he needed. Don't question whether Kate would do the same."

"Then why taunt him with Allison?" Isaac pushes back, his voice angry. Derek's eyes are soft and gentle, like he welcomes an attack from the hurt Isaac, but that he isn't going to back down.

"How else will she convince Stiles to do what she wants?"

Scott whirls toward Derek. "What do you mean by that?"

Derek sighs. "As someone who was personally manipulated by the woman, I know certain things to be true. And that would be that she knows how to read people to get them to do what she wants. Kate Argent wants something and she's using her niece's death to get it."

XXX

Stiles follows her through the house, his footsteps hesitant, but deliberate. She waves him forward, but he maintains his pace, his fingers wrapped around the pistol holstered at his back. Kate seems to know what he's doing because she smirks at him, but doesn't say anything about it.

They enter the room, a rickety table set up in the middle, surrounded by plastic gutters, encasing the edge of the wood. There are metal cuffs screwed in where someone's wrists and ankles would go, the entire set-up hooked to a tub in the middle of the room.

"I see that you have still retained your morbid sense of interior decorating – even after dying once."

Kate barks a laugh, startling Stiles a bit. "You know, I always liked you best, lamb. It's true. I sincerely will miss your sense of humor. You're far more entertained to speak with than your friend."

"That's because Scott is a good person," Stiles says distantly. "and I am not."

"That, my lamb, is also true."

Stiles runs his fingers along the edge of the wooden table. "So explain everything to me. You do this, this ritual thingy, and it brings Allison back to life?"

Kate's grin is too broad for anyone sane, but Stiles remains. It's better than the alternative. "You sound so mistrustful! I, in case you haven't noticed, happen to be a resident expert in resurrection."

"You and Peter Hale."

A low growl emits from her throat. "Do not test me, Stilinski."

Stiles can't help but be unfazed by her brazen aggression. It's simply hard to care about much when you're considering your final breaths. "What's the catch?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The catch," Stiles repeats, his voice carrying an edge. "Have you never read Harry Potter? Resurrection comes with a price. Peter Hale never regained his powers. You turned into… whatever you are. A vicious Smurf?" He offers casually and she laughs in return.

"I sorta want to keep you."

"Yeah, I'm good." Stiles drawls. "What I'm saying is – nothing ever returns the same way. What's the catch with Allison?"

"Are you really in a position to be bartering with me?" Kate asks venomously. "If it weren't for you, Allison would be alive. The deputies who practically raised you would be alive. Nathan. Would. Be. Alive. For someone so clever, you are so dense at this trend. There's only one connecting thread here Stiles. You."

Stiles doesn't argue.

XXX

"I still don't get why you're so certain it has nothing to do with Allison. I mean, Stiles even put her photo up on the wall!" Isaac exclaims, his eyes flashing a bright gold.

"Isaac," Scott warns and his eyes return to their original color.

"Scott, it's fine." Derek sighs. "Because I know how she works personally and you don't."

"None of this conversation is productive," Lydia pipes up. "While we're here arguing whether Kate is more deranged than most Bond villains, Stiles is out there, probably doing something incredibly stupid. We need to stop him."

Isaac purses his lips. "Do you mean just this time or every time he does something incredibly stupid. Because we have like, lives. That would be beyond a full-time job."

"Isaac!" Scott bellows, a growl echoing with it. All the wolves bow their heads to his snarl and he doesn't apologize.

"Sorry," he mutters, moving to the corner of the room.

Lydia uses the sudden silence to pull the strings around the room again, but to no avail. With tears in her eyes, she places her fingertips lightly on Stiles' own photo, whispering, "Where are you?"

"Resurrection comes with a price."

Stiles voice is as clear as if she's standing right next to him. She yelps and pulls her hand back as if the page burned her, staring at his light eyes. "What is it?" The Sheriff asks hotly, noticing her change.

"It was Stiles. His voice… it felt like he was right here." She breathes, touching his picture again. He doesn't say anything, but she feels a cold draft waft through her bones.

"Are they saying that Stiles is dying?"

The Nogitsune's voice plays in the back of her head, as the chill increases. Her heartbeat spikes and she can hear echoing footsteps behind her. She whirls around and it sounds like they're coming from Derek. Derek returns her gaze with a quizzical look, stilling in a way that only a werewolf could.

"He is, you know."

The footsteps are getting louder, increasing as she peers at Derek. She takes a few tentative steps forward, the drumming in her ears growing to the point that she can't hear the questions from those around her. She reaches a hand out, Derek flinching slightly.

As soon as she touches his shoulder, she feels it. Electricity shocks her fingertips and she cries out, pulling back once she touches him. Derek's eyes widen, as if he felt the sudden surge, but doesn't step away. "What was that?" He breathes.

"Electricity," Lydia mutters to herself. "Did Kate ever electrocute you?"

Derek's jaw flinches. "Yes."

Lydia feels like she wants to punch him for not getting it right away. "Where Derek? Where did she do that?"

Derek blinks, but she can see the realization spilling on his face.

"My parent's house."

"Let's go, then!" Scott shouts.

Malia, who'd been leaning against a wall, trying to stay out of the way for a while now, cries, "Why? Why are we listening to a small redhead who claims to hear voices?"

Lydia's eyes narrows. "Because sweetheart, this is what I do and, unlike some people in the room, I can actually control my powers. And for the record," she continues, her voice sharp. "My hair's strawberry blonde."

XXX

Stiles stares at the metal cuffs. He runs his thin fingers and flinches, but doesn't pull back. "So if you do this, Allison is back. Everything goes back to normal."

Kate's behind him, her hot breath on his neck, making the hair stand on end. "Not just normal, Stiles. Better than normal. Everyone gets what they want. Nancy gets her justice for her son. Scott gets the love of his life back. Lydia gets her best friend. And their lives are safer. You won't be able to hurt anyone anymore."

Stiles feels his tears threaten to spill. It makes sense. After everything, it makes sense.

But he can't help but have a voice in the back of his mind. An annoying voice that won't shut up.

Death doesn't happen to you, it happens to everyone around you.

He shakes his head, trying to ignore the picture of all his friends and family in his mind. That he'll never see them again.

Ever.

Again.

His last act being a broken promise to Scott. That he wouldn't leave.

But if he gets Allison back, does it matter?

Stiles turns around, facing Kate with a stony face, his resolve set.

"Okay. I'll do it."

XXX

After the initial shock of actually figuring something out shimmers away, Lydia claps her hands together. "Let's get going!"

She stills, the first signs of a scream tickling the back of her throat. "No," she whispers, her eyes widening. She bites her lip, refusing to let the scream get the best of her. It settles in her throat, but it's present.

Drip, drip, drip.

"Do you hear that?" Lydia asks, whirling around.

Drip, drip, drip.

"We can't hear what you hear." Scott says quietly.

Drip, drip, drip.

"The dripping." Lydia whispers. "You can't hear the dripping?"

"Dripping?" The Sheriff asks. "Like a faucet?"

Lydia closes her eyes. She hears the splatter of the drips. "No," she murmurs, her eyes widening. "Blood. The dripping is blood."

Scott's face pales. He sprints out of the room, everyone following him, but stopping dead when they hear a crash and a yell.

"Scott!" The Sheriff cries, pushing his way past everyone to run down the stairs, but halts when he sees the source of Scott's distress.

Standing at the foot of the stairs next to a crumple Scott, Allison stares at them all. Her skin is pale and sallow, dark rings ensnaring her eyes. She's still wearing the same clothes from the night she died, the dried blood splattering the floral print.

No one speaks.

No one breathes.

Allison gazes pitifully at Scott's frozen form. "Scott, you need to get up," she says forcefully, although it sounds as if she hasn't used her voice in ages, like mud coats her throat. "You need to stop him."

Scott squeaks, moving backward from the girl he once loved. "A-Allison—"

"Scott, get up!" She shouts and he flinches. "You have to stop him!"

"Stop who?" He finally manages.

"Stiles," she says sorrowfully. "He's giving Kate exactly what she wants. And if she gets what she wants, everyone will die. She will be too powerful to stop."

"What is she doing?" Lydia asks, trying to ignore the horrid dripping and the sight of her best friend standing there. She wants nothing more than to run to her, but she's afraid. Afraid of what this means and afraid of Allison. So, instead, she keeps a level head. Ignoring the breaking of her heart.

"Stiles is dying." Allison says bluntly. "And if he dies and I come back… let's just say I won't be back for long."

A/N: Ta-da! Anyone else excited for the premiere tonight besides me?

Please leave a note if you have a moment! I will squeal – promise!