were (you)

by bhanesidhe

• question everything • Bestfriends Scott, Stiles & Lydia were struck by tragedy when trapped in a car accident that took Claudia Stilinski's life. Scott & Lydia were rescued from the crash, Stiles body was never recovered. Traumatized & grief-stricken, Scott & Lydia drift apart until 6yrs later when a Monster descends on Beacon Hills. [AU]Were!Stiles Playlists @ 8tracks/bhanesidhe

7. staying

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Track 01 - Everlasting Light by The Black Keys

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{Wednesday: Dawn - The Beacon Hills Preserve to The Styx}

As ATV's went the KingQuad didn't have much reverb, not on the asphalt and not until they were right on top of you. Especially not when they were customized but not all of the Argent household ATV bikes were special edition. In fact, there was only the one in their arsenal and it was first-come first-serve with regards to who got which.

"It's not fair man! Favoritism gets you everywhere," Bennett yelped as he pulled on the brake when Rumy came alongside him, virtually stealth-like.

"No junior, my ATV gets me everywhere. Not 'sleeping in' just got me there quicker," Rumy sped up and crossed Bennett's lane before slowing onto the left of him.

Bennett laughed or at least allowed himself the indulgence of it since Rumy couldn't well hear him over the sound of his crappier ATV.

"What extent parameter are we meant to run?" Bennett asked when Rumy finished gloating.

"Don't know. Axel didn't say," Rumy shrugged.

They had been assigned grunt work. Everyone else would be in the woods 'cleaning' the murder scene while they would be running the parameter. Meanwhile the Preserve had their very own Park Patrol, not to mention Rumy had enough ride-alongs on recent experience they could just outsource this sort of work. But he wasn't the head of this Hunting party, Axel Argent was, and it also wasn't a bad morning for a ride around a park.

"Of course, he wouldn't. Because it isn't a long-ass run of woods connecting straight back into a National Forest at any point at all," Bennett grumbled and made certain his dripping sarcasm could be heard over both bikes.

After grinning for a half-minute Rumy revved his beast to head into the foliage, reminding Bennett to follow because despite their insignificance to the case they should still get some sort of move on. They weaved between low slopes and trees that lead from dirt paths back and forth to the main road. There was nothing of note although Rumy stopped time and time again to do things like observe the sunrise, watch a passing robin, feel some strange bark or rock, all the things mountain men were prone to do.

When Bennett opened his mouth to complain while Rumy would just smirk and nod. When Bennett ignored and drove ahead, he knew the boredom of riding alone would turn him back. So, he took to riding a little further off so that he could observe the observer while testing capabilities of this particular bike.

"How's our Boss in the making?" Rumy asked suddenly breaking a sort of silence, walking up behind him.

Bennett sniffed the air and thought about it. Sunday's family meeting was a weird one. Monday's wasn't made any better considering every time Allison spoke up of late, she had more investigatory work to show and less explanation to how she'd worked things out. It may have gotten them results as a group, but it wasn't getting her brownie points of trust for a future team leader.

"Pretty impressive," Bennett answered and spit on the ground. When he looked up again Rumy had that face, the one that implied Rumy was psychic. Okay, Rumy was in no way psychic, but he had an unnerving knack at being right a lot of the time and a tendency of staring people down until they confessed their sins. "She's been up to some things but they're the usual teenage things. Secret boyfriend. Sneaking off to hang out with her best-friend."

"That is how she got into the Sheriff's place?" Rumy replied, his gaze was steady. Bennett nodded his concession under that look. "If it's the same friend than this is a marriage of convenience all of this-" he made a face of discomfort and waved his hand around like he could wave away the smoke of it "-stuff she's getting involved with. This stuff with the body and stuff with the Sheriff. That same girl found it." Rumy squinted and took in the scenic view again. He seemed to never tire of it.

Bennett shrugged. He wasn't always on Rumy's wavelength, the fact is few realities could exist on that plane, but he did want to learn to be a better Hunter. Rumy was one of the best he's met. Strike that, Rumy was by far the most efficient he's ever met but also the weirdest. It helped that Rumy had Chris' unquestioning trust and was closer than kin, it promised what Bennett could learn from him the sort of thing he couldn't pick up from books. It meant their field work was ideal, but it also kept getting him grunt work by a resentful and jealous Axel Argent and doing things like baby-sitting a park.

"Her friends are weird, I think," Rumy said then laughed. He ambled his way back to the bike and as he passed Bennett, slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise, "Not that I would know, aside from Chris, I've never had any friends."

"Surprising no one," Bennett called out after him while he drove to catch up. This time laughter could definitely be heard over the sound of the crappier bike.

After they rounded a bend and came over the Jogger's Trail that crossed a thin bridge with a creek running under it, and Rumy pulled over to take more pictures. When Bennett asked 'why?' again Rumy explained he was interested in the way the light bent. When Bennett reasoned the light bent the same way several minutes ago, why is it so different over here; Rumy looked straight-faced with grey penetrating eyes until Bennett backed off. Eventually Rumy said something along the lines of it's different over here because over here is different.

Bennett's jaw dropped open, his brows crushed together in absolute incredulity, and his hands clenched. But by that point Rumy had already moved on "the students use this to practice," he observed and took a picture of the bridge and then a picture of Bennett leaning on the bridge, "you're young enough. You could have still enrolled in the high school. You would have been a senior right? Why didn't you?"

"Why? To spy on Allison full time? No thanks," Bennett smirked, and put up a peace sign as Rumy took a selfie with him, "There is nothing I can learn there that is going to further my future career." He didn't sound enthusiastic about it, he sounded embittered. "I mean being a Hunter is where I'm headed, right. So, just get out there and home-school like the rest, am I right?"

"No, you're Bennett," Rumy smiled briefly at his own Dad joke humor. He managed to somehow mumble louder to be heard over the water. "And that's alright. Allison will probably go to an Ivy League. That will be alright too."

Bennett had a Father. He reminded himself he had a Father, a proud beautiful black man who had a lot of things to say about a lot of things, but they never had talks together about his future? Or when he had tried these talks with his Father, why were they always at high volume and filled with anger? Bennett liked where his career was headed, because he had earned his placement on Victoria Argent's team, and at a young age too. Except, aside from Alison and Rumy no one seemed to like him there. It left Bennet unsure if he liked it their either.

After taking so many pictures, it sure seemed that Rumy liked where he was, but Rumy seemed like the sort of person to like where he was 24/7. Maybe that was a skill set Bennett was meant to learn.

"You know, Vickie went to some swanky-ass Uni, too." Rumy pointed out as he turned the bike on and pushed it slowly onto the path. "That's where she met Chris. And me, but then I wasn't student there. Not in the academic sense," he grinned such a wide grin, proud of his scheming past as he launched along the road. Bennett rushed to keep up. "To each their own, we've all got paths man, like that one right there!"

"What is that?"

"It's a path," Rumy stopped short. Bennett didn't bother turning his off if he intended to catch up with Rumy. "Someone made that," Rumy said from about 10-15 feet up a steep slope. Obscured behind the bushes was patched-up greenery that had been pushed and bruised darker from fresh tread embeddings. "And they made it recently."

"How did you see that?" Bennett tried but saw no sign among the greenery leading up to the bush. But the wheel treads could be recognized as ATV tires. If it belonged to the Parks department, why would they hide tracks? If it belonged to the Argents, Rumy having sorted through all of their bikes earlier, he would have damn well known about this.

Rumy pointed to the pavement off of the green. The bike had been parked and re-parked behind the large bush often enough for the exhaust to have left grease stains on the crummy SoCal' asphalt.

"What do we do? Report back? Track them?"

After a pause, Rumy shrugged casually and returned the bush back where it had been. He ambled toward his bike, sniffed toward the horizon but hadn't bothered to take one photo of evidence. Confusing Bennet utterly.

"Right, so they won't know we were here. Are we going to stake it out?" Bennett brought his bike over beside Rumy's ready to follow any lead.

"What?" Rumy blinked in surprise almost as if he barely recognized Bennett. After a brief hesitation he leaned over Bennett and turned off the kids' bike.

"No. Listen little man, there are things home-school, no-school and high-school can't teach you. That is family."

"I don't get it," Bennett groaned.

Rumy rubbed Bennett's shaved head and grinned the roguish smile that made him look disarmingly young. He answered "you will m'lad" with an exaggerated accent of Bennett didn't recognize. As he walked away, he offered to get them late breakfast. When Bennett asked about continuing their duty, Rumy shrugged again, probably his 2nd most common response his 3rd being an inarticulate mumble. The 1st being that cheeky grin.

However disobedient to Axel's instructions, Bennett eagerly followed. Back on their vehicles he was led off-road over the Industry Bridge and into a rundown gas station where Rumy pulled up too close to a Silver SUV with out-of-state plates and 1 ATV rack strapped to its tailgate. From the rear end of the SUV Bennett noted the carrier rack was meant to carry 2 bikes. Bennett turned off his bike and when he opened his mouth to ask a question Rumy gestured for him to stop.

The doors to the store attached to the gas pumps swung open, from within stepped out a statuesque woman in a floor length white coat with dark sunglasses and inky-dark hair. From the angle she exited from their bikes couldn't be seen. They might even have had a proper surprise reveal if she hadn't sensed something off and stopped mid-stride across the walk. She edged back, her posture turned deceptively easy, and her hands dug deep into her coat pockets to reach for a weapon. When she started to walk again it was slower, ready for confrontation.

"Cousin Livy," Rumy cleared his throat while he walked around the front of her SUV with his arms spread wide. His joy was feigned and for a normally jovial guy Bennett was made uncomfortable by the fact.

"Christ," she stopped short. She heaved a sighed and looked around as if she were ashamed to be seen with him. When she spotted Bennett, she gave a nod of acknowledgment that left a chill.

"We're not cousins Rumy," she started again toward the SUV.

"But we are related," he added smugly.

"By marriage," she hissed.

"That's beside the point," Rumy's grin started to turn genuine, all teeth, he even had a bounce to his step as he placed himself strategically between Livy and the driver's side door.

"And it was annulled," she pushed back the oversized sunglasses, her dark coal eyes had a stare so oppressive it was any wonder Rumy didn't lose height beneath it.

"Is that why I don't get invites to family reunions?" instead Rumy stood straighter. It helped that his hair never seemed to stay out of his eyes.

"Darling," her demeanor changed entirely, she turned from hazardous material to a honey trap "I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon enough."

"Oh, issat right? You know the 24-Hour Diner right across the intersection, we're just headed for breakfast right now," Rumy persuaded, he never sounded so cool and in control for as long as Bennett had known him. When he stepped aside to open the door for Livy there was no room for argument on her part. Now if he could learn that as part of his interrogation skill set, Bennett knew he would have leveled up.

"I'd be delighted to join you," her brow arched elegantly, she sounded anything but delighted.

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Track 02 - 15 steps by Radiohead

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{Towards the SW edge of Beacon Hills Preserve}

The niceties of life began to trickle into the Preserve with the dawn, robins swooping in to catch up worms, brown hooded beetles making their paths above ground, while Werewolves and Hunters came to a head.

Isaac Lahey, 16-years young Werewolf waved off any attempt to rush forward on his behalf when he fell to his knees, all while Allison Argent 17-year-old Hunter never took the aim of her weapon from him.

"Well, I'm delighted to join the club here but if anyone has cared to notice Allison is a freakin' paranormal Hunter," Isaac growled. Blood seeped through his right pant leg from his calf to his ankle.

For the 1st time since Lydia said she would 'trust him', she second-guessed looking for Stiles when he made an unsettling noise at the back of his throat. It was the sort of sound her Papillion puppy made when the mail carrier came up the walk and she really didn't like it. And like she would with her dog Prada, she snapped at Stiles to stop it. When he looked on reprimanded, unsettled and vulnerable, she wouldn't second-guess coming to get him ever again.

"First, let's just let everyone speak," Scott hadn't liked the noise either and it showed in his face, in display of stern disapproval and pure concern.

"It's not like a chosen profession or anything." Allison's hands were steady, but her words were less so. "'Hunter' is just a title like a sort of traditional Matriarchy, which it is kind of."

"Oh" Scott and Stiles said in unison both impressed and confused.

"Well," Lydia interrupted mildly, "while we're here confessing, turns out I sometimes scream when people die."

"Oh," Scott, Stiles and Isaac added. Allison lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't exactly know how all of it ties together but it's definitely supernatural," Lydia said with building authority, "and with the looks of things we should probably get more familiar with the idea of it."

"Like X-Men?" Scott supposed. The building tension hit a pause button.

"No! Be more realistic, come on," Stiles corrected irritably. "Like Avengers; less mutation, more average people rising to greatness."

"God, it's like nothing's changed!" Lydia threw her hands up in exasperation.

"God," Stiles sighed dreamily, "it's like nothing's changed." Scott grinned.

Lydia moved past them and knelt beside Isaac. She pulled aside the torn fabric from his calf and revealed the wounded area. She recognized the signs of a coil trap, same serrated teeth that would have snapped through her calf. Her expression darkened when she noticed the punctures still bled openly. She saw none of the same sort of healing like in her kitchen the way Scott's wound melted away within seconds.

"This is getting worse," she observed.

"It's not healing?" Scott moved instinctively to kneel behind her. He quickly removed his jacket, pulled off his over-shirt and handed it to her to stifle the bleeding.

"What were you even doing here?" complained Lydia, her usual objections. He practically grinned to hear it while she tore the sleeves and ripped them into halves creating bandages to stave off the bleeding.

After a pause "that's my fault," Stiles conceded from just over Isaac's shoulders toward Lydia's left, far out of sight from the wound.

"Yours?" asked Allison. She lowered her weapon when Scott made a pleading gesture for her to.

"Back at the Sheriff's house," Isaac grunted against Lydia twisting a bandage in place, "I thought I heard you say the name Stiles. I wasn't sure if you were tracking the same Stiles from my pack."

Scott stepped back and he thought about the word 'Pack'. He wondered exactly what that meant for months, he knew it was something like family, but had no idea what that could have meant to him. He never put it in the perspective what that must have meant to someone else. Watching the way Isaac looked at Stiles, there was annoyed familiarity in it, a different sort of look of pinning and mistrust in the way Lydia looked towards Stiles. And Scott wondered in a Pack how everyone was meant fit because in his mind there wasn't a question of "IF" everyone fit only how and possibly when... preferably soon. And the feelings it brought up in him, 'was that what pack meant'?

"You thought there would be another 'Stiles' Stilinski?" derided Lydia, she leaned in close to scrutinize Isaac. He had to back off an inch for fear of her.

"One and only me, man. You though, I can't tell you from a lunchmeat. Suppose it's a step up from thinking you were dead," Stiles tried for levity. It was met with the most severe eyeroll he had ever received from Lydia. Scott shook his head and smirked, ill-timed indeed. Stiles would not look in the direction of the Hunter who put down a member of his pack, no matter how much it seemed his friends trusted her. And Isaac, well Isaac never appreciated his humor anyway. Sure enough, in that direction he was met with a glare.

"Gratitude, man," Isaac tried to glare toward Stiles, his eyes were unfocused, his words came at a slur. "I saw your hideout. I tried to throw them off your trail."

"Thanks," Stiles gently squeezed his shoulder in a show of support.

"You didn't want us you find you?" murmured Scott in disbelief.

Stiles glanced from Isaac's glazed over expression to Scott's wounded one toward Lydia's tight one then to Allison's firm one. Then back again. He opened his mouth a few times before he could muster up an honest answer.

"This was just supposed to be a couple of days. I was looking for some people. It wouldn't have been fair to seem like I was sticking around," Stiles sounded tired, when he tried to pull together a more confident expression that seemed to tire him further.

"After all this time, if you were just passing through, why not meet somewhere else? Why come back to Beacon Hills at all?" In Lydia's fury she yanked harder at the bandages and caused Isaac to wince several times.

"These people, my pack have gone missing! Come on, try to understand, I'm just trying to find missing friends, Lydia," a pleading in Stiles' voice bent the ears of everyone involved, and had he chosen his words more carefully it might even have chipped away at Lydia's soul instead of her shoulder.

"No!" she lashed out at him. "I'm a raving lunatic in the middle of the woods, nearly getting my leg snapped off because I don't understand that impulse."

His face crumbled a little, as if her words were a direct blow. Of course, Lydia knew the loss of friends. Of course, she knew what it was to search for them when all seemed hopeless. Of course, it was impossible to argue with Lydia Martin especially when you weren't exactly in the right.

"Guys," Scott interrupted because he was one of the few who would dare to..."this should really be healing by now."

"That's my fault. I, a little bit, poisoned him," Allison explained.

"Poison?" Stiles recoiled, wide-eyed. He stepped widely around Isaac's prone body to stand behind Scott and Lydia, to put as much distance between him and Allison.

"I say poison. Not 'poison' poison, just a very mild diluted paralytic I've been working on. See, I've been experimenting with this material-"

"Allison!" sternly Scott warned but he didn't know where to go from there. As often since the day he met Allison, Scott wasn't certain whether he should be frightened or impressed by her.

"Scott, he was tracking my friends. He's half a foot taller than me and a Werewolf. I'm a Hunter. This is what I'm trained to do…" she brought her tone down from haughty and became the Allison that he knew again, not meek but hesitant. She nervously tapped her weapon against her thigh as though she weren't sure what to do with it anymore despite her experience. Her brows came together in a small pinch and her mouth pressed in a timid smile, "Plus, it wears off."

After a moment, "can I get some?" Lydia asked delicately.

"Does it?" Stiles ignored Lydia as his temper snapped "Does it really? When will that be?"

"When... it does," Allison bolstered her conviction. She readjusted her quiver and posture for assurance. "He'll be fine."

"Can we do something about the bleeding?" Scott leaned over further. Lydia waved off his offer of more fabric and pushed him to put his jacket back on.

"It's not like, open or anything? Is it?" Stiles sounded like he could hardly keep down his lunch.

"It's braced and tied off but-" Lydia shook her head in exasperation.

"Screw it, shove over!" Stiles took a big gulp of air and averted his eyes.

Everyone yelled in a panic when Stiles shoved over, gripped his leg above and below the wound and twisted until the bone snapped. Isaac sobered with a roar and quickly collapsed. Without hesitation, Lydia jumped forward to grab him before he crashed to the ground only to get half-pinned under him. Allison shouted 2nd loudest after Isaac as she dropped her weapons to race around and help Lydia. She pulled Lydia out from under Isaac's full weight and re-assessed the damage, only to discover the bones had already retaken their natural shape. Aside from being knocked unconscious Isaac was healing.

Meanwhile Stiles swooned. He reached out for support and after stumbling he wiped his hands onto Scott's jacket instead.

"Why did you almost rip off Isaac's leg?" asked Scott while he propped Stiles up.

Stiles blinked back in reply, he looked too green to even acknowledge the present tense.

From the ground below Allison waved off Scott's questions. The girls pointed out Isaac's leg, the abrasions from the trap had already closed over.

"Can we be done with the fucking dramatics," Lydia interjected in a tone that wasn't a question at all and left no room to argue.

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Track 03 - Keep The Car Running by The Arcade Fire

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Allison dug a hole a foot deep, while Lydia tore up leaves. Together they pressed down the evidence of Isaac's patch up job, the blood covered leaves, sticks and stones, and buried it all. When the new dirt was dumped into it, they covered it up with the newly torn leaves and obscured all proof. Lydia stood still while Allison dusted dirt off her skirt, until finally reached down and steadied her best-friends' anxious hands.

"I'm okay now," she smiled stiff-lipped with confidence.

"Are you really, okay?" Allison struggled to keep eye contact.

The last time Allison had seen Lydia before running into the clearing with Isaac, Lydia had been reaching out to her for help.

"Of course, I'm okay," Lydia said pertly. She pushed Allison's dark hair back and dusted off her shoulder, while doing so she admired her quiver. She made sure her friend noted that she noted it. Hunter, indeed. "Are you okay, Allison?"

"mm-hmm," she smiled softly, when she stood to leave, she reached out for Lydia's hand to lead her away. Her family would flood these woods soon and it would be best not to be tangled between them.

"Thanks," Lydia said a bit further along the way, "for protecting me from the big evil Isaac." Her voice was thick with irony. Allison didn't answer but her grin translated in the air. "You have been keeping an eye on him, don't think I haven't noticed, and you shot him."

Allison focused on not tripping, on following the boys trail and on not saying 'but I left you alone'.

"He would have kept me from finding my friend," a little levity left her voice. "Thank you for keeping your promise." Lydia gently yanked back on her hand, intent on getting a response.

"Always," Allison looked back and found it easier to smile. "Come on" she rushed them to catch up.

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"How far is the car?" Stiles complained.

"How are you possibly tired?" Scott asked. He tried to shift Isaac's dead weight further onto his shoulder to relieve Stiles.

"I'm not tired," Stiles mumbled, "I just don't want to carry him s'all."

"Half-a-mile maybe," Scott smirked.

"Why would you park so far?" Stiles whined a little.

"Why would you hide so far in the woods?" Scott rebutted.

Stiles quieted after that. Scott hadn't meant to upset him but between the two of them there weren't many topics that didn't weigh.

"You broke his knee to heal him?" Scott finally burst out with.

"Pain," Stiles replied in quick defense. "It triggers the healing process. It's something our Alpha, our pack leader taught us."

"Your pack leader..." that was as far as Scott got. He had so many questions about his own Alpha he wasn't sure where to start asking Stiles about his.

But Stiles offered up some insight, "it wasn't like everything was running from Hunters or fixing gashes by breaking bones."

"I wasn't going to ask that actually," although it now had begun to pique his interest. It was worth noting, "Isaac looks healed but he's still asleep."

"I don't know," Stiles stumbled while trying to step forward to look at Isaac while still carrying him. Scott stopped still to keep from falling. "I think it's the poison."

"If she said it's not poison, it's not poison," Scott assured and he didn't come off as preachy. "Trust me."

"I do trust you, Scott" Stiles looked at him in doubt for a moment which gradually turned into a smirk.

"He just doesn't trust me," Allison piped up from behind them. Without the added weight of an Isaac, she moved quicker and with her training she moved quieter, even weighed with her weapons. Stiles turned up his nose at that. She added, "which is totally understandable."

"No, it's not," Lydia followed behind her. "If we trust you, he should too."

"Really Lydia, how does that work," Stiles snapped. Not angrily, their rapport between the two was stilted but familiar.

"Because if she doesn't get us out of here in the next few minutes before her Hunter family shows up to investigate last nights' murder then we're all screwed, especially her," Lydia said the obvious. Scott looked to the ground and did not hide his amusement. With her chin held high, Allison looked to her best-friend with amusement. "Now if you focused more on where you put your feet, you might not find them in your mouth so much."

Stiles mouth dropped open wide as if he were truly pained. He continued onward for several minutes with that expression stuck on his face. Finally, it was Allison who came to his defense.

"Lydia it isn't always that simple, people are just wired differently. He's just the sort of person who can't get past me being a trained Hunter trying to protect my friends, that's cool. I don't hold it against him that he's been hiding out here for weeks spying on his friends with no intention of bringing them peace of mind, but whatever. To each their own," she walked further "I'm going ahead and shift the car toward the road. And if I don't leave without you, it must mean I'm a more evolved person. Probably." She winked at Scott and hurried on.

They stopped in their steps and stared after her, Lydia was the first to move and she turned to look at the guys, with Isaac dangling in-between. She shook her head the way disappointed teacher stared at a failing student "don't you know better than to mess with the designated driver." With that Lydia darted after Allison.

Scott looked on and seemed very confused. Stiles shared that sentiment and then had to ask, "let me guess, you're dating the Hunter?"

"Oh, yes!" Scott said with a mixture of pride and awe.

"Cool," Stiles nodded and pulled for them to move along (at a faster pace).

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After a few minutes, when they had enough distance between no one could overhear unless through supernatural means, Stiles asked if they could take a break. He said he was out of breath and Scott smirked his disbelief but gave him the break anyway. They lay Isaac on the ground between them, and Stiles made a show of stretching his legs, rotating his arms and neck.

"There was a murder here last night?" Stiles finally asked.

"You didn't know?" Scott stood from where he leaned against a tree.

"No," Stiles paused mid-stretch, "I should have known. It's this strange forest."

"Something is wrong with it." Scott looked around as if there were something physical, they could find that would explain away the phenomenon. "I kept getting lost going moving in a straight line. If Allison wasn't here with her maps to leads us in and out, I don't know how we'd manage-"

"But you found us." Stiles bounded nearer. "When Lydia called to you, you found her." His voice sounded concerned if nothing else, "How?"

Scott shook his head, "I don't know. I guess I can always find Lydia." He smiled slowly and put an arm around his friend's shoulder, "And she finds you."

"Yeah," Stiles smile lengthened. He breathed in the scent of his friend. Yes, all these years it was as though nothing changed, even to have their sweaty foreheads pressed together and say nothing. To take a minute and not worry about Hunters, killers, missing people, being hopeless, or lost because in Scott's presence there were none of those things. He could just be Stiles.

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"Allison, what will your family do if they find us?" Lydia sucked her finger where she tore out a splinter.

"I'm not sure." Allison didn't slow down as she used a long branch with large swooping leaves to wipe their footprints far back along the Jogger's Trail until it hit the grassy green patches.

"I didn't get to the crime scene in time, so I don't know what they found," she sighed in aggravation and stomped back with the branch. She laid it flat on the trunk of the car and started to remove the covering bushes and leaves from the windshield. Lydia did the same for the front windshield, only with more delicacy.

"Lydia for what it's worth," Allison said over the length of the Beetle, "I don't believe there is anything they could find incriminating your friend Stiles." Lydia smiled her gratitude, she was never afraid for herself, only her friends. Allison nodded and went back to work. Once she finished, she yanked out the stone wedge from behind the front wheels she had used to keep the car from rolling back downhill. She came up beside Lydia opened the driver's side door, they assessed the damage. Superficial scratches were fairly obvious but as for damage to the frame, Allison hopped inside and turned on the car. It came to life easily and when she put it in reverse it moved further up the hill with a jerk. Lydia gasped and jumped back a foot, but Allison gave her the thumbs up and put on the parking brake.

"But you were right," continued Allison, she dusted off her hands as she climbed out of the car. "About getting him out of here," she clarified before Lydia let it get to her head, "This might be traumatic for all of you but it's for the best," Allison reassured Lydia with a half-smile.

"That is not what I mean," Lydia shook her head. She looked nearly pained, "Allison, this Hunter thing... if your family finds you with them, what will they do?"

"I don't know," she hadn't actually thought about it. With all her concern of how to care for everyone else it was a question she had yet to ask. Of course, Lydia would be the first to do so. "It's never happened before."

"I'm sorry you're in this predicament," Lydia leaned toward her. She looked unsure of whether Allison might want to be left alone or held.

"I'm not," Allison breathed in deeply. She wasn't lying, she wasn't sorry about her predicament, but she would need time to process the rest. Something she'd soon have to take off the shelf. "You want to drive?"

Lydia closed her eyes and groaned "yes!" as if she were the more tormented of the two. Allison laughed.

This time with Lydia in the drivers' seat, the morning supplied sufficient light where to move over the hedges onto the road, Allison gave her what insights mirrors couldn't. When they hit the asphalt, Allison doubled-back to erase any evidence leading in and out of the Preserve.

It took a great deal longer for the guys to get to the car then they had expected, and Allison had to leave Lydia alone on the side of the road while she went to find and bring them back. Before she left, Allison went around to the driver's side and quietly reminded Lydia of their promise.

"I want to keep you safe, that means if I'm not back in 5 minutes you leave."

Lydia rolled her eyes and flicked the tip of one of Allison's arrows. "Of course, you'll keep your promise that's why you'll be back. With our boys."

Lydia tapped out the seconds on the steering wheel and with more than a minute to spare Allison returned with three struggling Werewolves, stumbling through the forest like the most warped modern fairy tale ever written.

After an uneasy time, they passed Isaac's unconscious body through the cars small doors and it became a balancing act to prop him upright, without sliding or snagging in the back seat. Allison and Lydia would not give up the front seats, so Scott and Stiles eventually figured out how to prop Isaac's body between them in the back.

Stiles sat behind the driver's seat, behind Lydia to watch the direction, to keep an eye on the Hunter. Scott sat behind the passenger seat, where he could reach through the crevice between the door and the chair and squeeze Allison's hand for calm. With Isaac unconscious and smooshed in the backseat of tiny Volkswagen Beetle they scraped along. And so, began their second most awkward car ride of the day.

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Track 04 - Flaws by Bastille

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Once comfortably back on the main road, Scott built up the nerve to ask about being in a pack because Stiles didn't seem to have one anymore. "So, you came here to find your pack?"

"What? Yeah," Stiles blinked back his attention from wandering over the speeding landscape.

"But you said you thought Isaac was dead. And he didn't know you were here," Allison connected facts.

"And Isaac has been here for weeks," Scott added. He didn't mention the growing sense of betrayal because he had just begun to really like that guy.

"If members of your family and your pack member weren't enough, why were you sticking around then? Who are you here to meet?" asked Lydia, with her eyes on the road her words came across cold, but had she been more focused they would have just come across as probing.

"Technically this person has preferential treatment," answered Stiles. He tried to catch Lydia's eyes through the mirror, but she kept them pinned on the road. "I think we're still on the lookout for the same person. Our Alpha." If she tried to understand that he couldn't tell. If she were still angry about his neglect, he couldn't tell that either. The car had too many heart rates going 'jumpy' including his own it was impossible to gauge any one person's temperament. He would have to take them at face value and that just made him nervous.

"That is a pretty important person to misplace," Allison half-turned to get a better look at Stiles. She had no humor in her voice and when she spoke again, she made sure to keep her eyes intent and kind, "I'm sorry for your pains."

Stiles swallowed, looked away and wondered exactly how a Hunter could come to care about something so foreign.

"Oh. Your whole pack-" Scott had the good sense not to finish that particular sentence.

"We needed to come to Beacon Hills," Stiles spoke to the horizon, "we needed to find Derek." From the tone with which he said needed, the desperation devoid of want and how intently he gnawed his thumb nail it seemed obvious Stiles became trapped in a guilt-trauma he was not ready to confront.

Afterward things went into an awkward silence again, which Scott again interrupted.

"So, you like know things?"

"Things?" Stiles turned his neck toward Scott (leaning around Isaac as he slumped forward) as far as he could manage.

"Werewolf- Supernatural things?" Scott shrugged.

"Yeah man. You don't?" Stiles nodded.

"No," Scott and Lydia said in unison.

"But you do," Stiles whipped his head around to look at Allison and said it as clear as an accusation.

Allison nodded uncomfortably.

Stiles examined her for a moment then nodded slowly, he pitied her.

"That sucks," he said sourly and turned his attention back to Isaac. "I mean where do you even make something strong enough to put someone like us down?"

"Probably from someone like you," Allison's lips twitched into a smile that disappeared just as quickly.

Scott ignored their one upmanship, "when you mean someone like us, you mean like a pack? What's that like to have an Alpha?"

"I don't know. An Alpha is more than someone who turns you, transforms you. If you're lucky they're more than just a leader. We were a family," Stiles jostled Isaac in a display of affinity "and it stems from the head. But losing a pack member isn't like losing family. It's like losing a limb."

Scott focused on him, this wasn't the sort of lesson that could be taught. Sure, his friends had experienced loss, but not like Stiles had. And as much as Stiles wanted understanding he would never wish something like this... well, maybe on his enemy because they deserve bad things.

"I can sense him here somewhere out there, either by choice or by force. I know he used to have property on the Preserve, and I've been looking for it for days. Either way I need to find him because everyone of our pack is in danger without him," the severity in his voice betrayed his character, even Isaac stirred a little at the rise in it.

"We can help you?" Scott offered.

"Yeah?" Stiles said in a voice of disbelief, he went back to look through the window.

"Yeah," Scott insisted and pressed a hand against Stiles' knee.

Stiles smiled half-heartedly and when he looked up again Lydia watched him through the rearview then quickly glanced away.

In the following awkward silence Scott felt the need to fill it but instead of prying questions they caught up with town gossip.

Yeah, high school is great. Scott's grades can use some work, but he just made first line. Pretty soon after being bit, couldn't be helped. Yeah, he's totally into lacrosse the whole town is into it, even Lydia is a big observer. She is really into the stats apparently. Allison is catching up after all she just moved to town. Coincidence. Change the subject. Stiles' Dad made Sheriff a few years back. The town elected him in because he's really reliable, seriously well liked. Always on task, it's like he lives for his work and nothing else. Anyway, he looks great. Pretty fit, going salt and peppery a bit but you know if I were like twenty years older don't you think Scott. Yeah. I mean you know what I mean. He's awesome. I mean he's a great guy still. You should see him. Change the subject. Mrs. Martin's divorced now though. God, Change the subject, so what did you do for winter break, change the subject, change the subject.

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Track 05 - Halfway Home by TV On The Radio

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{Wednesday: Morning – Stilinski's House, Beacon Garden Community}

After they'd reached town roads, they had separated cars: Allison and Scott went off together but didn't make further conversation. It was as if they had so many subjects swimming in their heads' they could decide of nothing at all to talk about.

While at the Stilinski's house, by the light of day everything seemed changed. Of course, Lydia had seen their house at night 2 days ago and Stiles several years but there were adjustments to be made in daylight with the mind's eyes toward the present tense. Even when the morning sky turned from grey to yellow and blue, while the neighborhood became awash in human traffic and nature noises, there was still an oppressive realness of yesteryear. Only observed by Lydia and Stiles parked in the driveway.

Isaac also remained silent, blissfully unconscious in the backseat of Lydia's Beetle.

Along the drive there, Stiles babbled reminiscing of everything they passed by up until they were parked out front. Lydia said nothing in reply.

After the engine turned off, they waited in the silence and watched the sun drag rays across the Stilinski rooftop and listened until Thrush birds became the loudest sound in the world. When Stiles spoke again it startled Lydia so much, she swore.

"There's no one at home."

Sighing, she released her death grip on the steering wheel. "How do you know?"

"No heartbeat in the house," Stiles tapped by his earlobe, implying his heightened hearing.

Lydia took a measuring glance of the distance from the car to the house. That was the sort of thing that might have impressed her a few many minutes ago before her butt had gone numb.

"Great!" she announced, frustrated with their stillness she pulled the keys from the ignition. "So, then the Sheriff's probably at the Station." She stepped hastily out of the car, yanked forward her seat for best access and ordered Stiles to come around and help pull Isaac out.

Between the 2 they awkwardly dragged Isaac around to the back of the house. Stiles commented wistfully on every creaking board and dusty window ledge. After he retrieved the key from his Dad's secret place above a backyard window frame, they slipped through the garage and dropped Isaac onto a discarded lawn chair (not quite long enough to catch all of his legs).

In dimness they skulked through the kitchen, down the hall by the family room and along toward the front door. Lydia walked with the ease of native while Stiles showed the stilted awkwardness of a visitor at a museum. He hesitated at the investigation board in the kitchen, but she ushered him along, reminding that this was neither the time nor was that his business. It was easier to get him away from the gruesome than the nostalgic. He commented on virtually every object, about what had changed and what hadn't.

From beside the front door she waited, silhouetted by the morning light with her hip on the door jamb and eyes carefully focused on him. She looked troubled then softly reminded whatever stayed the same probably would have changed had Stiles stuck around.

Stiles shut up after that and came up beside her. His mouth worked around several words at once but eventually chose not to reply and agreed to lock up. It was impossible to argue with her when she was right.

"Lydia- the hell," he prepared a statement but once he turned to face her, she cut him when she snatched his hand, forced it open and dropped her car keys into it.

"Stiles, I have not slept in so long..." Lydia marched off and called over her shoulder, "and after all of this I am not driving us into a ditch."

"So, Ma'am, where to?" he tried to mutter a joke, while he walked over shuffling through her keys until he found the car key.

Stiles tried to read her expression, but Lydia instead looked away and made tsking noises while she inspected the damage to her car. He opened the passenger-side door for her, but she didn't follow, he turned to see she had started to inspect him with the same critical eye. They stared across the divide, still getting accustomed to the presence of this person, this very familiar foreign missing present person.

"Were you having Isaac spy for you?" she asked in a steady voice, but she struggled to keep an even temper.

The air left his lungs, and he was grateful that they hadn't gotten in the car to drive yet, or he might have definitely driven them into a ditch. Stiles rushed to her side, a thousand words filled up his head, but his throat went dry by the time he got to her.

"The whole time, the whole time he didn't drop the slightest hint that you- that he even knew- that the two of you even-" her voice gained speed but her words no direction. Stiles reached out and caught her nervous hands.

"Isaac never knew about this place, or any of you being here," Stiles whispered, he tried to guide her to calm, steadying his hands by clinging to hers.

Lydia dragged her eyes from where their hands clasped up to his face and narrowed them. "Can he hear us?"

Stiles paused, "No, he's still passed out."

"Good," she yanked her hands from his, clutched the fabric of his hoodie, her face colored and grew intimidating as she drew their faces nearer. "I could punch you in the throat."

"Is that it? Okay," he grinned nervously, stunned by her fierceness.

Her tone turned icy "It? Did you want more?!"

Stiles stood straighter, stiffer and ran a hand frustratingly through his hair, "Kinda yeah. Yell at me. Hit me, just-"

"-Just what?"

"Just don't keep ignoring me," he put his hands on her arms, not shoving her off, just lightly steadying. Lydia shook off his hold once again.

"Ignore you! I want to scream this house down around your ears!" despite trying not to she was shouting.

"Great!" he shouted back in her face, then quieted. "I was afraid (deep breath) if I ever came back, you'd be so disappointed in me (another deep breath) you'd all turn your backs on me. You'd just shut me out. (and another deep breath) That scared me the most about coming back."

Lydia titled her head and biting her lip she measured him with a look, suspicious at his sincerity. He was a goddamn supernatural being but having a childhood playmate 'ignore' you threw him? It sounded too stupid to be a lie. She rolled her eyes. "That did?"

He chuckled, relieved, "Well, that and seeing my Dad."

"Yeah. That's understandable," she ran out of steam.

"Well," Stiles decided to test the water, determined to keep her talking. "It rotated day to day. If you'd ignore me or you become a conceited social pariah or liberal arts major or some combination."

"Okay enough," she cut him off and tried not to laugh at his lameness. "Let's get on with it."

"With what?" Stiles grinned, pleased with himself.

"What you're avoiding asking?" her eyes seemed larger or to shimmer unblinking, when they stared at him in a way that made whatever she said next an unarguable truth, "Yes, I will help you go and face your Dad." She snatched the keys out of his hand and walked back toward the driver's side.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles skidded in front of her in an attempt to prevent her from getting into the car. "I never decided that's I want-"

"Of course, you did." Lydia insisted smugly. "It was written all over your face the moment you stepped into that clearing."

He swallowed too much air and when his words came out, they were a squeak, "You don't know that?"

Lydia's eyebrows lifted, condescending in the slightness of it. "If you want to stand around and argue what I do and don't know about you Stilinski it would be a real waste of it."

"Waste of what?!"

Lydia ducked under his arm, through the driver's side door turned on the ignition and stood back up.

"Waste of the 8 minutes you and I have between here and the Station." Lydia jingled the car keys like bait for him to jump at. Stiles groaned in defeat and snatched them. Lydia smirked, spun around and slid over the driver's seat into the passenger's with ease.

"What about Isaac?"

"What about him?" she shrugged.

Stiles struggled inwardly; he looked around and fidgeted. Lydia sat with a look of determination on her face, the tilt to her head that said, 'get a move on'. He erased the destination from his mind for the time being, trusted his co-pilot and launched himself into the car. Werewolf or not, his cockiness was never exhibited so brilliantly as his wink and grin when they peeled onto the road. Lydia failed to hide her smile when she rolled her eyes. Even as she turned her head away, his finely tuned ears heard her laughter in the wind.

They hopped over the curb at the end of the driveway and headed down to the Station, quickly at first then slower. But where Stiles' confidence grew Lydia's slipped away in a shaky breath, without anger to bolster her she lost conviction. Lydia reached out at the first red light and touched Stiles forearm, settling just below his elbow. He glanced at her sidelong and followed her lead, dropping his arm from the wheel. He caught hold of her hand before she could pull away. They clasped hands the way children do when they followed one after another through the dark.

"Alright," said a more relaxed Stiles, "I know you have questions. Where do you want me to start?"

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Track 06 - In The Woods (feat. Sky Ferreira) by White Arrows

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{Somewhere in the Lakewood Neighborhood}

"Alright," said a more anxious Allison, "I know you have questions. Where do you want me to start?"

As much as he hated to admit it, whatever anyone said, even if they said nothing someone would be upset, and Scott didn't know how to fix that. Before tonight, he thought finding Stiles would resolve all their problems, but it only served to create layers of different ones. Allison glanced over at him and gnawed on her lip while Scott struggled with how to begin, so simplest seemed best.

"So, what does 'Hunter' mean exactly if you're not, you know HUNTING?" Scott tried to sound light about it, but his face carried a wounded confusion. Allison's brows knit, she looked injured already and she had yet to clear her mind to think of a reply.

"I think you're inferring killing," Allison said tightly from the driver's seat. After a pause she sighed and glanced again at Scott. "It's just a thing we're raised up to be, kind of like being Amish," she reached for a thought process. "Then there's rumspringa and you know; freedom to choose how to use the skills we've learned. Which path to follow; there's a new code and an old code. Questions?"

"Everything you just said, just about everything. You uhm said," he smiled out of nervousness. He kept glancing over his to shoulder toward her weapons in the backseat.

"I'm sorry okay, I'm sorry!" she gripped the wheel. "I don't know what to say! I screwed up! I feel like I screwed up, but I don't know for what!" Her eyes teared up and her voice hitched. "For being what I am! I'm good at who I am, Scott! I've saved lives, I'm a good person! So, what's happening, what am I sorry for?!"

"Pull over." Scott said calmly and put a hand over hers to steady her swerving. "Allison, pull over before you get us both killed."

She swore when she noticed they were nearly 10 miles over the speed limit, she slammed her feet on the brake. It sent them skidding into the shoulder of the road and jolting to a halt.

"I'm not like this," she muttered to herself. "I'm not this- this-" she used both hands to swipe at the tears sliding down her cheeks. She could not stop thinking about the woods, the sound of the traps resonating, the panic in Lydia's voice when she reached out, or how she feared her family might hunt her boyfriend if they hadn't gotten out before dawn and her tears wouldn't subside. The shelf of worries was beginning to weigh heavily, maybe even soon break.

Scott leaned over, turned the car off and pulled her into a hug that was clumsier then tender but still intense. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she muffled into his shoulder, "for lying."

Scott considered all the times she went out of her way to care for him, to rescue him from an outburst, from his disorientation and she never feared or questioned him, "you never lied Allison."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

He leaned back enough to press their foreheads together. "You knew I was a Werewolf and you loved me." With the slightest tilt of his head hers moved with him, when he looked into her eyes, she wavered.

"I did, I do!" she tightened her hold.

"So," he drew out a pause, grinning and goaded, "maybe it's just you were waiting for the right times to tell me both those things."

Allison blinked slowly, her stared turn wide-eyed and her smile was a newest one he'd seen, "Scott McCall! Did you just steal my first I love you? "

"I love you, too?" he offered lamely.

"You bastard," she leaned forward and stole a kiss. "You jerk" stole another deeper one "you animal!" and stole another one, deeper still.

"But you love it-" he tried but she cut him off with another kiss.

"I do, I do," she said more forcefully, snapped her seatbelt off and crawled across the divide. "Scott, seriously, though." She whispered as if the car were bugged, which she doubted but it wasn't outside of the realm of possibility. "Hunters have sort of a 'don't ask don't tell' policy when it comes to our identities."

Scott slid an arm around her, pulled her onto his lap and shifted around to make enough space for them both, legs tangling until they settled into warm knots. He looked at her face, deep into her eyes and over her mouth for signs of ease and drew a breath seeing the edges of a softer smile settle in. He said to her "didn't you hear, that's been repealed."

She glared but the smile didn't wither. "What I mean is you can't tell anyone what I am. Ever."

He nodded "Ok."

She squeezed him, "Promise me."

Despite her death lock, he managed another nod. "I promise."

She let go a little, ducked her head to the side as she looked him over, her eyes lingering on his lips. She felt conflicted as she pleaded, "Scott, it can put us in a lot of danger."

"More danger?" he doubted things could possibly get worse.

"Yes. A lot more," she tried to convey seriousness, but it came off as amused. "My family came here because there is something wrong with this town. But we didn't know, I didn't know it would affect kids."

That struck a nerve with him. "D'you mean infect?"

She sensed she said the wrong thing and struggled to walk the line cautiously. "I didn't know about you if that's what you're asking..." she stroked the side of his face and admiring the way the muscles move along his jaw. She thought about him attacked, alone in the woods that night last August; if she had driven along the road moments earlier, she might have prevented Scott from being bitten. Had she driven along moments later Scott might be dead. All her skills were wasteful when an act of chance could turn Scott from being victim to Werewolf. "But if I had known earlier, I would have come running," she swore and kissed him to seal it. "Whatever's going on we've got dumb luck on our side. Stiles and Isaac are right about needing a pack. Someone unaligned like you are exposed. But from what I've seen with you, you've never had an Alpha... you have never known who bit you?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. That's crappy, Scott." she apologized and considered all the options. "And Lydia doesn't know who attacked her."

Each statement brought him sobriety. "You know, when I hoped not to be alone- I never meant I wanted her to go through something like this."

She moved almost astride him, settled her weight against him. "It's okay, Scott. There are worse things to happen. Some people don't survive being bitten. They die when their bodies reject it, or they can change into another transitional form that isn't wolf and lose their sense of self altogether. I've seen someone transform who didn't even know he'd turned into a monster...Jackson."

"Jackson!" Scott eyes widened. Another secret dropped. He didn't know whether to feel privileged or pressured. "He's never been exactly stable. What is he now then?"

"Dangerous." She shook her head slightly, the look in her eye uncertain. "This stray Alpha is creating an army of children. They aren't given a choice or time for conversion-healing. There's no sense of selection... it's like a chessboard of only pawns. It doesn't appear to be slowing down either so it's up to us to stop him."

"Us?" he gulped.

"What?" she caught herself and squirmed a little, "no. not 'US' my family's us. Us."

"Really?" his face brightened. Her conviction fired him up. He wasn't a coward but having her with him he felt limitless.

"Really. That is if you want to-"

"Your parent's will be distracted by those strange killings-" Scott felt a certainty build in him for the first time in a long time. He couldn't answer for the others, but he imagined if they were as affected how could they not want to get involved? And he was tired of sitting around and waiting for the next side-effect to come along and knock him down.

"Killings."

"Right. While you and I get this S.O.B. who is trying to use us like dingy jock straps."

She cocked an eyebrow "Ew, not the analogy I'd go for."

"Have you checked to see if it is Coach?" he whispered, dramatically.

"Yes, all the Coaches actually, and don't make that face. They're AGRO-personalities. Of course, I checked them."

He admired her. "You're really smart."

"Yeah?" she half-grinned.

"Queen of the Chess Board. I bet you know all the moves," he smirked.

"Scott, when Lydia was on vacation, I knew something was wrong and not just because she stopped instagramming her outfits. I wanted to do something, but I couldn't go to you, I couldn't go to my parents. Just like when you were attacked, I felt incapable."

He wished he could convey, even without his supernatural strength that he could be strong, strong enough so that she didn't need to worry. "Allison that was a long time ago."

"No, it was just 20 and 1/2 weeks," since he had been bitten, like a calibration point from which to spiral outward she had it locked in place.

"It isn't your job to save everyone Allison," he stroked her hair, trying to sooth away that sound of hurt from her voice.

"Maybe not," she said obstinately, "but don't we become a little more monstrous if we stop believing there can be saviors?"

There were no arguing certain facts. "Holy Crap, I love you."

Drawn together, eyes closed they found the easy motion of mouths and tongues sliding along each other. The earth moved for them. She pulled herself closer between his legs, creating friction in her wake. He dragged his fingers along her flanks, once in a long pressing stride, a second time through the fabric of her dress gripping against her bra.

Allison pulled away abruptly and launched herself back into the driver's side seat. Her eyes heated, she gave him a look of regret and shook her head before she twisted the ignition. The car roared into life blocking out the noise of stray thoughts. "I need to get something."

"Does it need to be now?" Scott shot straight up and readjusted.

Allison started to drive, hitting just above the speed limit and hoped the early hour kept them off any police radar. They wavered in their seats as she turned corners. "Yes. It needs to be now while my family is in the woods. There is something about Lydia I need to figure out. She said she screams when people die."

Scott gave it some thought. "You didn't hear her scream during the game?"

"No. You did?" she swerved slightly when her focus was on him.

Scott noticed and buckled her seat belt for her. "Yes, and Isaac. Probably Jackson. This explains why we lost-"

"And Lydia swears she doesn't know why or how she ended up in the woods."

"That's just like after she was bitten. She swears she can't remember that time wandering in the same woods."

"A fugue state. I read up on this, but I know it has to mean something more," in her frustration she hit the wheel.

Scott placed a hand over hers. "- and we'll find out what it is. We'll do it together."

She slowed when she neared her home, edging around corners. She double and triple checked to see if any familiar Argent related faces around. "How? How exactly is this something that we do together? How? I mean how?"

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Track 07 - A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kelly

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{Morning - Sheriff's Station, Parking Lot}

"How? How exactly is this something that we do together? How? I mean how?" He leaned his head back into the headrest and stared at the roof of the car as if it held the answer to the world's problems.

"Stiles," Lydia scoffed "if you're going to keep sniping-"

Sarcasm dripped from his every word and his hands flittered through air as if her were miming the scene before him. "'Hi. Heey, Dad. We wanted to catch up on how I've been living on the road with a Werewolf pack. Dad, we should also periodically take turns reminiscing, hugging, and crying. Also, if you weren't an alcoholic already you might be one by the end of this conversation!"

Lydia steadfastly ignored his tirade "-then I'm going to hop out of my car and speak to the Sheriff without you."

"Lydia, how-"

"Well, that settles it." she swung open the car door, whipped out her cell phone and started to dial. "Hello, this is Lydia Martin can I speak to Sheriff Stilinski?"

"Oh Man!" Stiles panicked, kicked opened the driver's side door and stumbled out of the car. He rushed to double-back after he realized he'd forgotten to close it behind him.

While Lydia strutted along diverging Stiles swinging arms, she kept her tone firm. "Hello Sheriff, I've been very good, thank you. Can I ask you something for a personal assignment it'll be brief and you're the only person I can ask? Actually, I'm in front of the Station if you have a minute?" When she turned the corner, Stiles didn't follow. He dove behind a police car, dropped the pavement, and shifted sideways to overhear their conversation. She looked back, eyes wide and mouth pressed in an insistent line that said silently, 'get your ass out here.' Stiles answered in almost the exact expression but his meant 'are you freaking crazy?' When the glass doors opened, Stiles dipped back and vanished from sight.

"Hello Sheriff," Lydia swung around and flashed him a trademark grin.

"Hey, Hi Dear," Sheriff Stilinski had a look of concern in his eye she hadn't expected. He spoke stilted after a second of hesitation he leaned in for a hug. "It's really nice to see you."

"Is it?" Lydia patted him on the back in return, grateful that he was at least in a receptive mood.

"It is. It is. What can I help you with?"

Suddenly the task felt so much bigger than her. "This is a bit sensitive and I'm sorry, but I think you can understand why I'd come to some with your experience-"

"-law enforcement?"

She went to something she feared tapping into. "It has to do with when I went missing, and how you handled my Mom?" she cleared her throat to keep her voice stable. He nodded for her to continue; she smiled and took that as permission to cross a line into uncharted territory.

"My Mom must not have made it easy on you," she began to wring her hands, she wished she hadn't. "And you were good with her Sheriff. But I need to know how you did- how do you discuss missing persons with the family? Specifically, say when missing person been found without causing the family more trauma?"

"Oh, wow, Lydia." He rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture. She wondered if it was hereditary.

"I'm sorry if this is sensitive-" she stepped forward, hesitated. A terrible rock lodged in her throat when she realized there was nothing else, she could think to do to help, and she stepped back. She made a concentrated effort not to pace.

"Lydia, do you think someone is going to come after-?"

She vehemently shook her head and waved her hand in negation. She opened her mouth again to try another attempt but still nothing came, she took a step further back. A step towards Stiles, praying he'd pop out and fix this.

After a mindful pause, the Sheriff's unreadable expression flickered from suspicious to something tender. He stepped towards her and put one stabilizing hand on her shoulder. It was quite likely she wanted to know simply about how her Mom had been holding up.

"No, I think I understand-" he rubbed a hand over his face and started. "Take them somewhere private and let them know there is news. Share loved one status straight away, don't overwhelm them with detail likes physicality because you don't want to make empty promises. Just let them know, alive, dead or unknown. And say you will reunite them as soon as humanely possible and follow that up."

Lydia took a deep breath and looked at him sidelong, "is that what you did in my case?"

Stiles had changed which vehicle to stand behind, from her VW Beetle to a large van, so that he might edge along closer. Not just to hear better, which of course he could hear fine but because he wanted to see them, to note all the changed details of his Dad's face. He watched them the way he'd spent hours admiring their house at dawn. Time just brought amazing new things to light. But they weren't still life, and what they spoke about was real life and it was troubling. Barely catching sight of him just over his Dad's shoulder didn't surprise Lydia very much, it was practically expected, and she made certain to not get distracted and focus on the Sheriff's face as he spoke. In the back of her mind a voice wondered what must be going through Stiles' mind listening to her tragic backstory, second hand as it were. But then she figured he's probably not listening at all. Not with the mesmerizing nearness of his Dad standing older, wiser and just a on the other side of the van.

Sheriff nodded in thought, "something like that but in addition to a few late-night coffees and sometimes a ride along."

"I like the sound of that," she imagined her Mom sleepless, but at least not cooped up in the house. Instead, she sat in the Chief's car, talking through the night and it eased something in her. Her body language changed, she edged toward the police van, placing herself between the two like a string pulling them closer and tied onto the topic. "That sounds simple."

"It isn't."

"Why?"

"Because when you're talking to the next of kin, you're a conduit of information; it's massive, emotional but not your experience. Your emotions are not meant to get caught up in it."

"Not even a little?"

"No, because you're coloring can change the truth of it. In that moment, they need your support and clarity of thinking. Not your affection."

"I see," Lydia tilted her head to catch where Stiles hid. She couldn't imagine not being emotionally invested. She'd spent a few roller-coaster hours driving with Stiles, letting Stiles' drive her car around, meanwhile the Sheriff drove her Mom around for days. It was a comfort. No emotional attachment, who were they kidding? Still had to try her best!

"So, if I got this right." Lydia straightened herself to her highest height and watched Stiles standing still, no longer hiding, just over his shoulder as he failed to keep back tears. She shook the Sheriff's hand firmly and she placed a second over it to keep it steady. "Sheriff, thanks for coming out to meet me privately. I really just wanted to tell you Stiles is alive. I promise you he is well, I'm going to prove if you would just turn around."

Lydia watched the color drain from his face, felt his fingers tense and his pulse quicken against her wrist. She could not imagine how he had done this for her Mom, she pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out anything else or asking what he must be thinking. She rubbed the back of his hand mostly to keep her own trembling in check, she only broke eye contact when the Sheriff cheated and used the reflection in window of her VW to look behind.

The Sheriff made out the shape of a man behind him but took his time to turn around. She glanced over the Sheriffs shoulder and caught Stiles' eye, the perfect wondrous expression of awe and gratitude gave Lydia permission breath again. She allowed herself permission to smile back.

Finally, the Sheriff spun around and caught his son up in his arms. Lydia understood exactly why this wasn't her moment but how fortunate she was to be a conduit.

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Track 08 - Tightrope by CHVRCHES

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{Noon – BHHS, 2nd Floor Hallways}

Jackson understood why this wasn't his moment and how fortunate he was not to be involved because his temper would have overtaken him for sure. He reminded himself, over and over, just because he heard it from as far as 2 floors away, that wasn't like it was important.

He watched as Deputy Do-Gooder walked from the Main Office down through the front steps and out of the school like he owned the property and Jackson assured himself that was fine, let it be that guys responsibility. Let him do his job.

It wasn't like he wanted to get involved, he reminded as he moved along through the hallway to the locker rooms for an after-practice shower. The officer hadn't said they were certain. It wasn't like they said the mutilated teenage girl was confirmed to be Lydia Martin. It wasn't like it was Jackson's job to find out; it was just the officer's job to check if she had been in attendance today. Just because she wasn't didn't mean she would put herself in danger, again. It wasn't like he was actually worried. These days it wasn't like an extra-long shower was uncommon. And it wasn't like it was becoming uncommon to demand of himself "Come on, don't lose it!"

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Track 09 - This Isn't Control by MSMR

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{Still Noon - The heart of Beacon Hills Preserve}

"Come on, don't lose it," Chris comforted. His cheery disposition might have been born of frustration but that didn't make it any less authentic or his eyes any less clear. He was simply a morning person and investigatory work had always been the sort of thing to get him bright. Sure, conclusive results would make him positively bubbly, but Axel's grumbling would not ruin this perfectly pleasant morning traipse through the woods.

Axel gave him a glare that would have scared children, but it only made Chris' grin lengthen. That wasn't to say he didn't share the man's concerns.

Despite their best efforts and the shared resources with the Sheriff's department they couldn't get ahead of the Monster. The Sheriff's department were either incompetent or willfully obstructing and it was holding up Argent Arms assignments. The murders not only increased but escalated in brutality.

The best that Argent's team could figure out was victimology and a few identities, before the Sheriff's department started sealing up investigations. The newest killing sights were far off and supplied impressive triangulation, although the Preserve was still too broad a site to investigate even for his team. This meant of course, calling in for reinforcement, which Axel saw as a failure on his part.

Well, it's a good thing it was Victoria's call and not up to Axel. Plus, they needed an expert for the Beacon Hills area and there was one person everyone knew to be an expert there, even though they hated to admit it.

They had spent hours tearing up the crime scene, strike that 'scenes' plural, and there were too many ear marks of packs running the woods. Seemed like a turf war in progress; if Werewolves were trying to clean up a mess, they were doing a piss poor job of it. They had easily verified 'a gored and mutilated victim was not only a Werewolf, but they figured they've been tortured elsewhere then brought to the kill site' which while essential, wasn't much more than what they started with.

In his frustration, Axel kicked a tree, and it left a noticeable crack. Both of them stood back, Axel alarmed at the intensity Chris in a startled pause. After a beat Chris took out his phone and took a photo of it, then sent it. Everyone knew the point of clean-up was to leave the place erased of any sign of affect, even their own.

"Tell me you didn't send that to Rumy," Axel groaned. His annoyance cut through his fury. Chris figured the best way to deal with Axel's over-seriousness was to remind him there was humanity under that blood-thirsty Hunter façade.

"No," Chris Argent scoffed, "I sent it to Vickie and Rumy." He shrugged and moved passed, toward the road. He gestured for the rest of the cleanup team to move with him. "Oh, and my sister."

"God damn it, Chris! Shouldn't you take this seriously," Axel walked up beside him. In a rare state of affairs, Axel hair fell out of place and into his eyes rather than its formatted slicked back position. Despite his sense of failure, they were able to uncover the scene had been infused with Trailing White Monkshood, an entrapment particular toward that caused hallucination in Supernaturals and in small doses disorientation. Unlike with the other murdered bodies this was obviously a staged scene. Either that, or the Monster had an accomplice or there had a second murder on their hands.

"I'm taking this very seriously Axel," Chris called back over his shoulder while he gave a more insistent gesture for his friend to keep up. "There is a way these things are done," he said smiling but he had changed his tone into one that meant things were inarguable. The day had come on fully bringing their cleaning to its close; the Hunters had collected the last of the traps the Sheriff's department laid down and defused the remnant of the Trailing White Monkshood. Next, they would have to attend to the body in the city morgue. They needed someone the Sheriff's department wouldn't recognize to gain access to the corpse, claim it and clean the mess, Chris was right, an expert was necessary. Which meant more people to deal with and Axel hated that fact.

"We need to keep moving!" Axel turned and snapped at the stragglers.

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Track 10 - Heats Like Ours by Naked and Famous

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{Back at the Lakewood Neighborhood}

"We need to keep moving," whispered Allison.

Only Scott stared down at his phone instead. Allison inched to his side across the study, peered over and looked at a text he received from Lydia. There was a photo of Stiles and his Dad together, grinning like goons.

Allison smiled and kissed Scott's cheek. "I'm really happy you found your friend alive. He seems... he seems nice."

With a bend of delicate disbelief to eyebrow Scott leaned into the crook of her neck. After he sighed, "Lydia knew. She hash-tagged it "#Magical" but it's not. She's known for 6 years."

Without trying to make it look obvious she looked at the clock on the wall and took a moment that they might spare, "Is that why you've been arguing all this time?"

"It's complicated." Scott continued to stare, "She never believed he was dead."

"And you did?"

"I never said that" he looked a little offended and she looked a little contrite, "I just needed an answer. There was no hope."

"Scott, that's not true, you went out there," she slipped her hand into his and slid herself alongside him onto the one seat. "You've always hoped," she beamed at him.

"I see that now," he nodded, trying to convince himself, "I just- I didn't want us to hurt anymore, I shouldn't have given up."

She sighed deeply, with time fueling a little she took to her feet again and stood front and center. She cupped his face and reminded kindly but determinedly "You were 10. And you didn't know any better."

"She did," his eyes penetrated "she never forgave me."

"What are you talking about?" she pleaded mildly, "There is nothing to forgive."

"No, she was right." he leaned forward, coming nearly to stand but mostly to lean into her, to wrap himself in the sense of her and the strength he pulled from her solidarity "Lydia is always right. I need to forgive myself for giving up on Stiles."

"You brought him back safely," she snaked her arms around his neck and smiled with a tilt of coyness, the time limit forgotten for the moment, "plus Scott. Everyone is safe now. Anyway, Lydia has an advantage over us there."

Closing his eyes, he tried to move past it, he shook his head but there was little room for it, "I know that. I mean I get it I also don't get it, why didn't he try to come home?"

"Scott, you'll figure it all out." Allison assured in a hushed tone.

"Right" but he didn't sound convinced.

"We will," her face became hard in that way it did when she was conniving. Her focus returned to her. "I just need one more thing. I need a copy of my family's bestiary."

"I think you mean bestiality-"

Her hand went to her mouth as if she could physically restrain her laughter. "I really, really don't. It's a book, like an encyclopedia of Supernatural Creatures and occurrences because we need to be ready. I need to be ready."

"Hey, we will be," he stroked her hair to calm her.

In a renewed sense of hurry Scott and Allison searched the room for the Bestiary but after going through all the books, they came up empty handed. An idea came to her, and she pulled him upstairs to her parents' bedroom.

"I realized something," she said shifting through her Mother's borough drawers. "My parents aren't traditionalist. They wouldn't have a book that can be damaged or lost. They're going to have the data on the private server. Which means somewhere in here they're going to have something, a laptop or a tablet, some personal device they wouldn't carry around with them."

Running his hand along shelves, along counters he passed over the vanity and felt warmth, warmer than it should have been which meant something had been concealed. He 'psst' for Allison's attention and she rushed over. They found a tablet secured strapped into a compartment underneath. She grinned excitedly as she slid her fingers along the screen.

"Now Father isn't always the best resource but Mother however," the password and username pop through easily, "it'll be her baby girl's birthday." It lit up and opened easily Allison grinned in that contagious way she does. Then she froze up, "of course it's admin access. We need to remember to submit the password logging in and logging out or it's going to send an alert."

"Your Mother has administrative access to the whole bestiary?" Scott concerned.

"I told you," she answered, "Matriarchal. My Father trains us up but my Mother leads. Everything goes through her especially our secrets."

"Oh," Scott sounded impressed, especially moved at how proud Allison sounded.

"Oh, is right" she conceded with less enthusiasm when she refocused onto her task. It seemed gaining access to the information needed was not as straight forward as anticipated. Her fingers slid around the interface with sleek speed, but the screen gave several options over directories and verifications, time consuming agitations that caused Allison's face to pinch in concentration.

"Double-oh" his entire demeanor changed, he stood upright and tense.

"Hmm?" she did not look up. She barely registered his existence from where she sat cross legged on the carpeted floor.

"Do the right-side brakes on your Father's car squeak a little bit?"

"Yes," she clung to the tablet, barely having gained access she slid through archives contents as quickly as possible but not fast enough.

Scott urged her toward the door, "then we have a problem."

"I can't leave yet. This is a massive amount of data. I can't upload all of it. The best I can do is assign myself 'privileged access' and hope no one notices the activity." She paused and that expression came into her face again when she was conniving. "I have an idea. Scott, can you sew? Like thread a needle?"

"Sure," he answered feeling very uncertain as she ran a finger along his collar. He had already ruined one shirt tonight, but he expected the demise of another one. However, he assured her anyway "my Mom taught me."

"Good," she tore open his shirt, split it through the center half-way to his naval and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry'. She placed the tablet precariously on the edge of the vanity running a profile re-assignment protocol. She hefted herself atop the vanity, the tablet settled gently framed by her thighs and her skirt veiled it perfectly from sight. "Just remember I love you. When it pings, sign out," she ordered then yanked him close to her, placed one of his hands on her hip and the other between her legs before she locked her ankles around his waist. "Be brave."

Throwing her arms around his neck, Allison kissed him deeply and swayed with the force of it. She hoped her fear would turn into enough conviction to carry them both. It took less than a second for Scott to catch up with her and kissed her back with fervor while all thought lifted from their minds; so, caught up in their misdirection they became distracted from her arriving family.

"Well, Damn. I'll just leave you to it stud."

"Oh My God!" shouted Allison in not at all feigned surprise, she practically jumped onto Scott.

Ping.

"Aunt Kate?!"Allison's hands flew to her mouth; Scott's hands went to her waist to keep her from falling off the vanity or crushing the tablet. Not that he wasn't traumatized.

Password '10-16'. Scott would never forget Allison birthday after this.

"Surprise!" Kate Argent's grin was devilish if not a little unsettling.

.

Track 11 - Tomorrow Never Knows by Carla Azar

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{Back at Sheriff's Station, Bull Pen}

"Surprise!" Lydia's grin was devilish if not a little unsettlingly. From his expression, eyes wide and mouth gapped, she could tell her presence was indeed that. "I'm not dead."

"I am not exactly sure what to say next," Deputy Parrish hadn't meant to make a big deal of it but his astonishment had gotten the best of him. He could blame the dehydration from over-caffeination that lead toward jumpiness coupled with a general lack of sleep the night before. But somehow his relief was the best reason for his red-faced surprise.

"Well, I'm not going to say I'm sorry to have startled you by being alive," she paused and considered her location. The Sheriff's Station, again, surrounded by uneasy officers. She might as well get a time-share there. "But that seems to be going around a lot today."

"That's not it. I just-" Parrish rubbed a hand along his face. "It's been a long night."

"Yes, it has," Lydia noticed the civi clothes and the 5 o'clock shadow as he had come in. She nodded thoughtfully; she didn't know where this was going.

The Sheriff had bustled Stiles off to the medic station in the rear offices for the basics, temperature, pulse, etc. She wanted to stick around but hadn't wanted to infringe on family time. Instead, she found an empty desk in the bullpen, amongst all the officers made disquieted by her presence, whom she pointedly ignored while instead reread the 'Service' pamphlets on the desk. The pamphlets weren't interesting but whosever desk this was used it as scrap paper and that made an interesting read, as well as fascinating little monster doodles in the margins. Parrish, however, came into the Station and looked like he had seen a ghost. And looked relieved for it.

"I should have driven you home," Parrish said quietly. Apologetically. He pulled over a chair and dropped to sit beside her. Of course, she'd been drawn to his desk, the Deputy had become a reliable port of calm throughout many storms lately.

"What?" his apology pulled her from her thoughts. Her mind kept slipping over to the rear of the Station, where she wanted to listen at the door of the medic station. She tried to shake it off and refocused on Parrish's youthful face, she smiled over vaguely.

"I guess you weren't going home though," whereas Deputy Parrish mind travelled to the night before. He squeezed her shoulder softly and Lydia took pause. She paid close attention when she realized it was her lie from a day earlier that seemingly upset him. He was apologizing for her offense and wanted to accountability for it. "Fairvale sent over that Jane Doe with a similar description about a half hour after you left, and I missed it. I kept doing the math in my head. Could someone have gotten to you from up there? Why didn't I just escort you like I should have?"

"Should have?" Lydia's brows went up mildly, but her tone went stiff in warning. Parrish grinned and sat a little taller.

"We've dealt with some missing cases before, but when you were a missing person the Sheriff had a sort of way," Parrish looked off for a second and pursed his lips as he tried to conjure up the right adjective but there wasn't one in the English language to describe the sort of grief, that guilt, "I think I'm beginning to get that. Like you can't think through anything else until you get this one nagging thing sorted."

"Or maybe you've had a long night and should head home, Deputy," Lydia squinted in thought then yawned, not to be dramatic or fake. She just yawned right on time and tried to cover it with her hand, but it was a fairly big yawn.

It was contagious. He turned his head away and yawned. He shook his head and chuckled.

"I hear there is coffee here," she proposed.

He nodded, "somewhere."

"Thanks, I'll go find some."

"No," he stood and pressed lightly on her shoulder, "let me. I owe you one."

"Deputy Parrish, you seriously don't owe me anything," she dismissed him and pulled herself upright, and lifted her chin in masterful command.

Jordan Parrish briefly looked her over. Quickly he observed the lightly scrapped legs and forearms hardly covered by tall boots and flowing dress, the wind-tousled hair framing an open face with glossy restless eyes. Their intelligence still keenly felt despite her tiredness, just as her free hand clutched her coat closed, her lean against his desk said soon, yes, soon she would topple over despite how hard she fought. And she had fought, though not a soldier she was a fighter who struggled and won.

He insisted softly with a small grin, "no, I owe you this at least."

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Track 12 - Breaking Into Houses by Edmund

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{Afternoon - Argent's House, 2nd Floor, Chris & Victoria' s Bedroom}

"No, I owe you this at least," Kate laughed and edged out through bedroom door, "a minute." She eyed Scott as one would a meal after time of fasting, "make that 5, after all he is gorgeous. Plus, I mean in your parents' room that's kind of hot."

Allison's face started to turn red. "OH MY GOD, Aunt Kate!"

"Hey, you're just lucky your parents let me drive ahead of the gang while they went to pick up supplies for our big family dinner. Can I leave my bags in your room instead?" she asked sliding the door closed.

"Sure! Whatever! I mean yes!" then Allison hopped off the vanity. "We're in trouble."

Scott dropped down and slid the tablet back into the hiding place while Allison ran to the door and listened to hear if her Aunt moved away.

"This is the worst..." she spun around and hurried back to him. He looked equally panicked. "Or the best," she theorized after some consideration. She fell into silence and sat at the edge of the bed obsessing, while Scott paced. 5 minutes was not a lot of time. Scott heard her parents arriving downstairs in separate cars. And there were more cars than just the one Kate insinuated.

"Oh great," Allison finally conceded. "A big family dinner. Remember what I said about women being leaders; if Kate is here, it means more Hunters."

"What does 'more Hunters' mean exactly?"

Allison shook her head miserably and her shoulders slumped under the time sensitive pressure. "There are just too many threatening variables" she clutched her face, she needed to untangle hazards. To take out some of the worst distractions.

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Track 13 - Your Life Your Call by Junip

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{Again, at the Sheriff's Station, Sheriff's Office}

Stiles shook his head and his shoulders slumped under the time sensitive pressure. "There are just too many variables" he muttered and shook his head while he mentally tried to untangle hazards. To take out some of the worst distractions.

Lydia slipped quietly into the Sheriff's office and dropped into the chair beside him. "I brought coffee from the breakroom." She handed him a mug that had stains from excessive use but somehow made him feel comforted. Hers was of course much cleaner which made him smile. He took a big gulp before talking.

"Coffee? Really, not some unpronounceable special flavored tea?"

She shrugged. She smelled it deeply before each sip, like each sip held a new experience. "Studies show," sip, "that coffee decreases risk of depression and improves," sip, "cognitive function. Even special flavored coffees," and sip.

A smirk appeared at the edge of his mouth. "Oh. Thanks." gulp "Lydia, you're really smart." another gulp.

"It's just coffee," she shrugged, another longer sip as she studied him over the edge of her mug.

He squirmed a bit under her gaze, tilted his head and as if a new approach would help. "It's just on top of everything. You're probably missing school for this. You don't have to stay."

"I don't have to do anything I don't want to do," Lydia went rigid. The longer she looked in his direction the more he squirmed away from her at the edge of his seat. "You don't want me to stay?" her voice cut.

"I don't not want you to leave," he contested, feeling very fidgety her gaze. "But it's apparently really time consuming and complicated proving you're not dead after 6 years of being dead. Plus, the department probably isn't going to want to have you stick around," he rambled, his words picked up speed as they lost sincerity.

"You are getting get rid of me?" the steadiness of her voice did not betray her, her expression looked mildly irritated. She would never admit how wounded she felt but her heart rate, the scent she gave off, she was angry. She felt betrayed.

"No!" Stiles shot up in his seat almost as high as his voice.

Lydia calmly leaned toward him, pulled the mug from his hand so he wouldn't break it and placed them on the desk. She used her nearness as advantage to get right up into Stiles face, an unfortunately frequent habit. "Are you lying to me right now?" she muttered.

"That depends on how you define lying," he practically whimpered in return.

"Well," her voice gained a significant heat as did her eyes, "I define it as not telling the truth, how do you define it?"

With a cringe, an uncomfortable smirk appeared followed with nervous hand gestures demonstrating his explanation. "Pfft... reclining your body in a horizontal position."

Lydia pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes; she thought about those moments when she feared his death and tried to remember why that was a bad thing. "I found you in the woods in the middle of the night and I have no clue how. With what you understand of supernatural things, you probably already know more about me than I know about myself. But you don't trust me? Stiles," the way she said his name carried a special tone of intimate exasperation he would grow to be very familiar with, "I haven't even spoken to you in years and you're getting on my nerves."

Stiles gnawed on the side of his lip and squinted in thought; specifically, about the car ride to the Sheriff's Station when he'd been consumed with the idea of driving passed the Station, with Lydia as his co-pilot he could envision driving until they ran out of road. "Lydia, I may not have spoken to you in years, but a noble lie doesn't always feel that way. And you see, right now, I've got to sit in this room with my Dad for I don't know how many hours and explain where I've been. But I don't want to spend another minute lying to you."

It took all the measure of a man he had left in him to stare at the floor, "Thanks. For everything."

"You're blowing me off-not funny." She glared at him, daring him to look her in the eye. He didn't. She gripped the arm of the chair as if she would rip it off. Lydia hissed in disbelief. "What, seriously?!"

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Track 14 - Teenage Crime by Adrian Lux

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{Again, at the Argent's, 2nd Floor, Chris & Victoria' s Bedroom}

Scott hissed in disbelief. "What, seriously?!"

5 minutes later in Allison bedroom, she whipped through her closet with the speed of a demon and pulled on a long sweater over a slip. She stared at her mirror in brief approval, pulled her fingers through her hair then styled it into a braid over her shoulder.

"Yes, I haven't seen her in ages. Plus, I know I can distract her. I'll tell her you're finishing off, but you can just go out through the window-"

"What?!" Scott turned red-faced and Allison blushed as well.

"-and I'll make an excuse. Go home, download everything onto this."

From her dresser top Allison withdrew an item from within a black jewelry box, a pendant. Silver, Old and intricate; it detailed a scene of a distended wolf walking beneath a full beaming moon. Allison flipped it over; soldered onto the back was a thumb drive. She carefully unraveled the chain and placed it over his head. She touched the pendant and pressed onto his chest delicately.

"Take care of this for me," she said gently.

Scott placed his lightly over hers. "I will," he promised.

"Listen, the moment you attach this to a computer, disconnect the internet or else whatever you do next might sign-out my Mother wherever she is. Then copy, don't move the files but copy them someplace safe and text me when everything is done." She pulled closed his jacket over his torn shirt and pushed him toward the nearest window.

"You are lucky you love me," he opened the window and noticed people had started to arrive which left him abandoned to wait out on her roof for God knows how long.

She smirked "I said that did I?"

He grinned in return "Yeah, more than once."

"I do."

"You better go before my irresistibility makes it impossible for you to leave."

"You think you're joking but- I'm going now," she slipped out through the crack in the door. Scott watched her go with a sigh.

After he climbed along the overhang, he waited on roof adjacent and wedged himself into an awkward position to remain unseen. As time rolled and people rolled in, he realized it could be hours yet...

"Unbelievable," he muttered. "You just left me," Scott muttered to no one.

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Track 15 - Buzzcut Season by Lorde

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{Meanwhile at the Stilinski's, Beacon Garden Community}

Barely awake, Isaac stretched, twisted and fell to the ground. Within a moment of recollection, he envisioned Allison, no! The Hunter had drugged him, and about Stiles finding him and about his wounded self and Lydia holding him as he hit the ground, vague recollections of Scott carrying him through the woods then... then this, abandoned in a garage, in the goddamn Sheriff's house falling off a lawn chair that was 2/3's too small for him.

"Unbelievable. They just left me."

---

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