Chapter 53

Stiles stared straight ahead at the blackboard. Ms. Martin's words faded away as his gaze drifted away from the class and its lesson. All of his focus was directed towards the darach now more than ever. His jaw twitched as he forced a yawn back down his throat.

"Now, I know that graduation is coming up and all you are looking forward to summer, but we still have one final test in this class."

Scott grumbled to himself. The table ahead of them was empty. Isaac didn't show up.

At the end of the day, the two made their way to the parking lot.

"Have you talked with Derek?" Stiles asked.

"No, and I don't plan on it. What happens from here on out doesn't include him," Scott said.

"What?"

"This is Derek's fault. You do know that, right?" Scott said. "He brought all of this here and he got everyone thinking that they could fight. You, Danny, Lydia…"

"Melanie," Stiles said.

"None of you are invincible and I can't stand that he made you all think you could be."

Stiles was taken aback. Scott had been angry at Derek before for assuming certain things, but never like this.

"Scott, he did the right thing in teaching us to defend ourselves," he said. "If it wasn't for that training we would've been dead long before now."

"Some of us are already dead, Stiles! None of us are working together. Isaac hasn't talked to any of us. Danny has an endless amount of rage. The twins have left town. Lydia is seeing a therapist. Chris and Allison are out searching for this thing, trying join Melanie in the graveyard! What is Derek doing, huh? Nothing!" Scott yelled. "He's up in his loft doing nothing."

"He didn't kill her." Stile's voice was quiet.

"He didn't save her either." Scott said.

"Neither did we," Stiles countered.

Scott shook his head. They'd been arguing about this a lot. Stiles was defending every little thing. He used to agree that Derek was the asshole.

"Are you on my side or his?" Scott asked sharply.

The fatal question left Stiles dumbstruck. His mouth hung agape for a few moments. They reached the jeep but Stiles didn't get in. He stopped mid step and turned to Scott who already knew.

"Scott."

Derek leaned against his SUV parked nearby. He uncrossed his arms and took a couple cautious steps toward them.

"Whatever you want, the answer is no," Scott said.

"We have to talk."

Stiles looked between the two nervously. Tension was thick and itchy uncomfortable. It would take nothing for a fight to breakout. His hold on the strap of his bookbag tightened. Their shadows stretched across the pavement similar to how they all felt. Tired and pulled to the end of their wits. Would it ever end?

"No, we don't," Scott said coldly.

Derek's composure unhinged suddenly. Scott's eyes were a piercing red like Derek's usually were. Stiles gulped and looked from Scott to Derek who shook his head at the anomaly.

"Impossible," Derek breathed. "How?"

Scott didn't reply, keeping his composure.

"I'm not in your pack," Scott said. His rage faded to his normal self. "I don't answer to you."

Stiles jumped from Isaac's sudden appearance beside Scott. He didn't even hear him. Derek looked to Stiles for help but was only faced with a reflection of mortification. There was no readable expression on Isaac's face. A shadow loomed over him, tainting him from his old self. He'd become the person he was before becoming a werewolf-quiet, solemn, defensive, dangerous, alone.

"Scott," Derek said, his voice cracking, "you're upset. We're all upset."

"Upset?" Scott scowled. "We're risking our lives to get this thing. What are you doing?!"

"I found the darach!" Stiles shouted quickly and regretfully.

All three heads spun to him. Shit, he thought. He let out a shaky breath.

"I was going over Melanie's notes and comparing them to mine. I know who it is," he said again for verification.

He looked toward the school. The place had taken on memories that a high school student shouldn't have to remember. It wasn't the games, parties or friends they were going to remember, not positively anyway. It was the horrors on the field, the nightmares from the locker room and the dark hallways that were blistered with screams. Those are the memories that would stay.

"Let's go," Stiles said.

Scott didn't move at first. Stiles jostled his shoulder.

"Scott, let's go or I'm leaving you here."

Scott scowled at Derek then got in the jeep, slamming the door. Stiles followed hesitantly. Isaac watched as they pulled out of the parking lot and drove off, kicking gravel up in their exit.

"Isaac, if he is truly an alpha-" Derek started.

"Don't worry, Derek. I've got his back which is more than I can say for you," Isaac cut him off.

He stalked off toward the black Camaro that he laid claim over now. Derek watched as he drove off. The parking lot was nearly empty. A few cars of teachers remained.

A headache began to throb at the front of his head. The double doors of the school banged as they swung open. Danny came storming out with Miss Blake in tow. She struggled to keep up with the athlete.

"Danny, I understand that you lost your best friend. In these last weeks of school you shouldn't be letting your grades slide like this."

"My grades are fine," Danny snapped.

Danny caught sight of Derek and trotted towards him.

"Danny," Miss Blake called after me.

"Can I get a ride?" he asked Derek.

Miss Blake stopped as Derek flashed his alpha status at the teacher. Her eyes widened, terrified as he revealed that he knew who she was. Danny wasn't paying attention and was getting into the car. Derek glanced back to be sure. Spinning back around, the English teacher was gone.

Allison set down her crossbow. A yawn fogged over her senses and she opened her mouth letting out the sound of a dying wookie.

"You should get some sleep," her dad said, also tired.

"I'm okay," she told him.

"Allison, we've been searching for a week. You have school to worry about," he said.

"I'll call Lydia. She can get me caught up. It's not that big of a deal. All seniors are skipping these last few weeks." She shrugged.

None of the teachers were really paying attention. The teachers wanted to leave as much as everyone else did. Senoritus had kicked into high gear, infecting everyone in one way or another. Some wanted to skip and party down at the lake. Others were going to colleges that had granted early acceptance and getting tours of the place. Then there was them who were on a hunting trip.

Her dad sighed restlessly.

"I'll be in my office."

Allison nodded, making her way to the kitchen. She pulled out a blue ceramic bowl from the cupboard. She was craving Fruity Pebbles. A few of the rainbow pieces bounced out of the bowl and to the floor as she poured until the bowl was ¾ full then showered it in milk but not too much. It tasted terrible when the cereal lost its crunch and color.

Each bite made her mouth rumble and filled her ears with a loud crunch that dulled out the silence. Afterward, she went to her room, closing the door quietly.

Falling onto her bed, its plushness threatened to swallow her. She kicked off her boots and tossed them to the floor. The tight tension spread over her body seeped into the bed. Her eyes were heavy.

Everywhere they searched was a dead end. There were no traces of the darach. She hoped that Stiles found something. Lydia stood on egg shells lately. She jumped and flinched constantly. The dark circles under her eyes increased. Not even make-up was covering it up. Allison rubbed her face then pulled her cell phone out from her pocket, calling Lydia. She'd been real quiet lately.

She didn't pick up right away.

"Hello?"

Lydia's voice was gravelly with sleep.

"I'm sorry. I woke you up," Allison said quickly.

"No, it's okay. I'd rather be awake."

They sat in silence for a while and though it was only over the phone, Allison was glad that Lydia was there. She didn't want to be alone. Scott hadn't been around much since he and Stiles were also searching for the darach. As much as it sucked, it was understandable. They could be together after all of this was over.

She sniffled a little. The pack they were was disintegrating and quickly .

"How is the search," Lydia asked.

"We've come up with nothing. I'm going to talk to Scott and Stiles about it tomorrow." She hadn't spoken to them very much since the funeral. Everybody had sought out some weird version of alone time. It was weird because none of them really wanted to be alone. None of them should be alone. Even in a crowd or together…they were alone.

"You mean you're actually going to show up at school?" Lydia said.

Allison laughed softly at her friend's sarcasm. They chatted some more about rearranging a meeting. Allison got Lydia to fess up about why sleeping had been so difficult. She was having nightmares about the darach killing others. They kept her from feeling like she'd slept at all. A few quips and jokes about them made her laugh though. After the call, Allison climbed under the covers, not bothering to change into her pajamas and fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

Derek paced back and forth as he thought about the heated conversation from earlier. Cora was taking out some much needed aggression out on the punching bag. Just like Stiles, she was occupying herself in the best way she knew how. It was hard to tell who was rubbing off on whom between the two of them.

"Somebody is pensive."

Peter crept out of the corner of the room toward his nephew. Cora made no effort to notice his presence. He hadn't been around at all. His sudden appearance was grating on Derek's nerves.

"Scott is an alpha," he told him.

"Impossible." Peter replied snottily. Derek struggled with the urge to rip out his insides and replied with shortness.

"Not really. I saw it myself."

"Interesting." Peter's eyebrows rose curiously as he scratched his scruffy cheek. "Have you talked with everyone's favorite vet?"

"He says that it's Scott becoming a true alpha."

"And so the darach is no longer the only threat."

"Scott isn't a threat." Derek's eyes narrowed at what his uncle was trying to get at. Scott was just a kid.

"No, this is just Scott going through a phase," Peter retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Would you two quit?" Cora chimed in. Her skin gleamed with sweat and her ponytail was a frizzy mess. She peeled the velcro straps of her UFC gloves and pulled the gloves off. "This isn't helping anybody. People are still coming up dead. Stiles says that he found out who the darach is, but why is it doing this sacrifice? Who is she getting revenge on? Knowing who it is is just one part of the puzzle."

Peter stared subtly dumbfounded, a smirk creeping over his husky features.

"Look at who's all grown up," he chuckled. His brows furrowed and he looked around, expectantly. "Where's Melanie? She is usually ripping out my throat, figuratively of course."

Neither Cora nor Derek said anything. Derek turned away and walked toward the wide window. The street below was bare.

"What? Did the twit run away again?"

Still there were no replies. Cora looked down at her gloves, slapping them in her palm.

"She's dead isn't she?"

He broke out in laughter right then. He held his side, dramatizing the hilarity he found in the news.

Cora's stomach twisted with disgust.

"Looks like I don't have to deal with that childish death threat anymore. I mean, I would've liked to deal with her myself…" he said, his contemplative voice stretching across the room.

Derek shot Cora a warning look. Her claws were elongated and her teeth sharp.

"My my niece, what sharp teeth you have," he cackled, unfazed.

"Get out," Derek growled, turning on him with an urge to rip out his throat.

Peter laughed some more, holding his side. Laughing at the death of yet another family member. Why wasn't he dead yet?

"God, you guys act like she's family," Peter continued.

"GET OUT!" Derek roared.

Cora advanced on him slowly, predatory like. Both wolves' eyes were ablaze in fury. It was beyond hate.. Derek regretted letting him live for so long. Melanie was right to want to kill him. The stupid nagging that the bastard wasn't a complete psycho was only the falsity that Derek wanted to believe.

"I want to kill him," Cora said gravely.

"We will. Just not right now," Derek said, turning to her. She wiped her sweaty forehead. "You're right. We need to know more than just who she is. You said Stiles knows who it is? So do I."

"What?" She looked at him with disbelief now.

"I've known for a little while now."

She threw her hands up angrily and paced a few steps. She seethed, clenching her fists. He watched patiently. Her temper was worse than his sometimes, but he'd never seen her do this before. It was uncharacteristic. Pacing? It was so…human.

"I was hoping everyone would gather their heads about them and that didn't happen. We're on our own."

"Stiles-"

"Stiles chose Scott, Cora. The most we can do right now is watch our backs and be prepared."

"The darach is powerful. Whatever she wants revenge on is also very powerful and we don't know what it is," he said.

Cora rolled her eyes. The lecture was getting tiring.

"You can't see Stiles anymore," he said next.

"What?! No. You can't tell me who to date."

"I don't want you getting hurt."

"You're not choosing now to start having an opinion on who I date," she snapped.

"Your boyfriend is very fucking annoying and a complete moron."

"I don't care! You're not the one dating him."

Derek sighed and rubbed his temples. He wasn't going to win this. More than anything he was trying to save her from heartbreak. If this feud goes as far as it could, they'll end up breaking up. Sooner was better than later.

"Let's change the subject," she continued. "Who is our mysterious villain?"

"Jennifer Blake."

"Our English teacher?" Scott said. "How's that even possible?"

"It makes sense," Deaton said.

Stiles, Scott and Deaton stood in exam room 2. Scott's arms were crossed over his chest, making his arm muscles bulge with tension.

"Oh yeah," Stiles agreed. "If I looked that mutilated I'd want revenge too. Have you seen her face? I'm still having nightmares about it while I'm awake."

"The pack she was advising betrayed her. That's what's driven her to this extreme. It has to be. She's abused nature too. That would cause some consequences," Deaton replied, faltering a little from his ridiculous assumption. He bore a concerned look.

"You have one thing right."

All three spun to the doorway. Miss Blake wasn't wearing her usual sundress with a cardigan but black skinny jeans with a black leather jacket to match. It outlined her hourglass figure more obviously. The heels of her boots clicked as she took a few steps toward the three of them. She smirked at their uneasy looks.

"I am sorry that you are caught in the middle of all this, but I needed your help," she said sharply. "The only kind of help that you could've given, or rather the only sacrifice you could've given."

Scott's eyes glowed with his newly embraced status as alpha. Miss Blake just grinned wider. Stiles gulped, looking around for the closest weapon. The tongue depressors in the tin nearby were about it besides the tray on his other side. He snatched up a tray and held it tight, turning it into a weapon of defense. She chuckled, her pale features taking on a sickly nature.

Scott glared at her through narrowed eyes that were slits.

"You're not dead," she commented, focusing on Deaton. He held up his chin, trying show that he wasn't afraid. "Hm."

Scott leapt at her suddenly.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled.

Miss Blake tossed him aside easily then turned on Stiles.

"Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," she hissed, creeping toward him.

He swung the tray out at her. She shot glances between the vet and him. Scott was unconscious.

"Scott?" Stiles called.

"Don't worry Stiles. It'll be painless," Miss Blake said, her mischievously dark smile fading and replaced with a killer.

Stiles shuddered as he backed into the counter.

"Stiles, the vial behind you!" Deaton said.

Stiles looked back and saw four different ones.

"Which one!?" he screeched.

"It's clear," Deaton replied, pained.

There were two clear vials. Unable to choose one, he picked up both. He looked between them. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Wait, what do I do with them?"

"Throw-"

Miss Blake, changed into her more hideously deformed self-hit Deaton, causing him to fly back against the shelves on the other side of the room. Stiles looked back down at them unsure of which to use. The darach roared a deftly noise. Stiles shook from terrifying sound and ended up dropping of the vials.

The darach grabbed a mixed fistful of Stiles's dark grey t-shirt and deep red flannel, pulling him forward so that they were just under an inch away from one another. Stiles's cringed from the smell of sulfur mixed with the bog of eternal stench.

She grabbed his hand, the one that held the vial, and squeezed it shut, causing the vial to break. Glass cut the tender skin of his palm and the liquid poured over his knuckles and down his fingers, dripping from the tip. It went numb immediately. He glanced down alarmed.

"Kanima," he gasped. It was the venom. Deaton must've gotten it from Jackson before he moved out of the country. The tingling sensation, leading to immobility crawled up his arm and over his body. His throat spasmed, closing and opening, causing him to struggle breathing. He went limp in a minute.

When Scott came to, Deaton was still unconscious and bleeding from his forehead. The window was completely shattered. Stiles was gone.