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

8. really

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Track 01 - The Mother We Share by CHVRCHES

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{Wednesday: Late Afternoon – Martin's House, Aires East}

The plan seemed like a good idea at the time. Although he had no idea why it seemed like a good idea at the time. Scott assumed Stiles would be at the Sheriff's department with his Dad for the rest of the day. Seeing as how things like the Sheriff's long-lost -son-returning -from -the-dead isn't the sort of gossip that would stay quiet for long, which would mean being asked a lot of questions by classmates so going to school to use the computers there wouldn't be an option. For the sake of both privacy and not wanting confrontation Scott made a bee-line home. Melissa McCall had a scheduled morning nurses' shift and wouldn't be back for hours which gave him free reign; he would have access to the home computer (because he didn't want to corrupt up his laptop in case anything went wrong, not that anything would cross his fingers), where there was also access to a bedroom where he can shower and can powernap before his Mom would see the state of him, all bedraggled, shirt doubly-torn and muddied up.

Except he barely got the thumb-drive attached when his Mom walked in, startling him with how stridently she came at him and yanked him into a hug. She asked him if the reason he had cut school was because of the whole 'Stiles' event. Silently in shock he nodded, and she replied with a light smack to the back of the head followed by another bone-crushing hug.

"Mom," he had to repeat a half-dozen times before she would relent. Her expression was pinched with distress that he needed to diffuse. "How did you know?" he asked although what he really wanted to ask was, 'is this really how we're going to say hello all the time?'

"I learned it at the hospital when they brought him in," Melissa eased off for a beat to suss out if Scott was, okay? "When I should have learned it from you first."

The "oh" from his lips was tiny but poignant.

Earlier, Lydia instructed everyone to keep away from Stiles' 'discovery' story but IF someone asked them directly to stick to a brief believable story. Tell them she'd received an e-mail from Stiles weeks earlier and she was unsure of its credibility, so she reached out to Scott to go with her to see if it was a prank. It also reasonably explained their recent spontaneous socializing because you know that was always weird.

Finally, Scott quietly asked how his Mom found out, she explained of course the Sheriff called her first to be ready at the hospital when Stiles was brought in for a full-physical. She had half expected Scott to turn up with them or at least pick up his phone when she called his cell. That's when Scott realized his phone died while in the Preserve, the dead zones there zapped up all its battery strength.

In detail she described meeting the Stilinski's at a hospital side-entrance and escorting them privately to a Doctor she personally arranged, someone who would be discreet. When Stiles had his vitals taken, she had been the nurse to do it. How he thanked her profusely for making the act of taking his blood quick and painless and away from his sight because it made him queasy. She had only come home to grab Stiles clean clothes and home-cooked food. He'd nearly wept at the idea, well he said as much amongst the way he babbled thanks for 5 minutes, but it had been Melissa who teared up with relief and amusement.

But when she asked Stiles if Scott knew he had come back home, and Stiles suddenly clammed up. She took that to mean yes. So, she asked if Scott had anything to do with sneaking Stiles back into Beacon Hills and Stiles firmly said 'no'.

"You know he still gets that intense look in his eyes when he's lying for you," she grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said as she rummaged through the refrigerator for leftovers.

Scott laughed.

While Melissa spoke, she tossed him Tupperware container after container which he fumbled to catch. After he settled them on the counter and turned to say something, but she caught him up in another hug. She called him so stupid and noble and brave and stupid again. She kissed him on both cheeks before she eased back and held him at arm's length. She analyzed him, her eyes traced over his appearance his bedraggled clothes, tousled hair and shining eyes. While all he saw in her was tiredness, but she smiled brighter than the sun.

"Get some rest," she sighed, "that's an order. Unless there's some other magical stunt you plan on pulling off, I expect you at school tomorrow."

Scott tensed at her wording, but her humor wasn't lost on him. "I promise, I'll be there unless something magical comes up," he quipped.

"Funny," she smacked him lightly on the arm as she turned to leave. She piled the food into a duffel bag on top of clothes, a few thermal tops, t-shirts, and an extra pair of his Nikes. Scott tossed her his red hoodie from the back of the kitchen stool to add to the bunch.

"And Scott," Melissa added at the door, "I'm serious. Don't ever disappear like that again; we don't want any more missing kids." She ducked away before he could respond, which was good because he had no idea how to respond that one.

Relieved his Mom hadn't asked how he helped bring Stiles back he let out a deep breath. Scott never liked to lie, especially to his Mom but when he thought about what he and Allison talked about in the car it felt necessary. He didn't want any more kids missing either. If this Monster kept targeting kids, there would more hunted or missing and even dead. He went to the computer and detached the thumb-drive on Allison's talisman. It was up to them. They were the first line of defense and were extraordinarily little by way of defense.

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Track 02 - At Home by Crystal Fighters

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Mrs. Martin stood in the vestibule and pulled the door open before Lydia could put the key in the lock. They looked each other up and down. Lydia wore the same clothes from the morning before and looked bedraggled. Her Mom still wore her jogging outfit from earlier that morning, no make-up, and a layer of sweat dried on the layer of Lycra against her skin.

"I've been waiting a while, the Sheriff caught up with me on my morning jog," Natalie said, looking terribly sad and not relieved at all.

"Well, I had a Deputy to escort me home. What a pair we make." Lydia said, sounding leaden. Then they stood in the hall unmoving for a long time.

"He asked me if I knew where you were; I told him she's not a lost little sheep, she's a snake in the grass. She'll pop-up when you least expect it."

"You were right," Lydia laughed weakly slipping out of her wool coat.

"I often am," her Mom came to stand beside her, took the coat and hung it up. "They called less than an hour later to tell me you showed up at the Station after you helped find someone lost in the woods," they shared a familial gesture of frustration, small hands upturn in feigned dismay. But from her Mom this meant 'explain this to me' "is this another thing like at your Dad's-?"

'please god, do not talk about dead bodies?'

"-or because of your nightmares?"

'right. forgot about that.'

"Maybe," Lydia answered honestly. She closed her eyes and focused on her Mom's voice. "I really don't know yet, Mom."

"Oh." Natalie thought about it for a moment and heled Lydia by the shoulders, her eyes a penetrating blue staring into Lydia's fathomless hazel-green but all she could decipher there was tiredness. "Okay," she smiled pleasantly. "That's alright then."

At a pinch, her Mom would deny anything happened at the Lake House. She changed the topic and rarely brought it up and never admitted any reality behind it. And now? Radical Acceptance. Easy as that and Lydia was speechless; she bit her lower lip then broke into a grin.

"I'm not too gross to hug, am I?"

"Not if I'm not too smelly to cling to?"

Lydia clung to her Mom and breathed in every sweat moistened strand of her hair. Natalie hugged her daughter tight enough she was certain she could have broken a rib.

"Listen, I know with everything that happened the other night, and with the body in the woods, you've gotten pretty shaken. You've been stronger than anyone should be."

"Thanks, Mom," Lydia lay her head on her Mom's shoulder into the crook of her collar. She felt like she could fall asleep where they were standing.

"No, I mean it," her Mom said softly, moving her arm around to reach and stroke Lydia's hair. "Take a minute to be proud of yourself. When anyone else would have called it quits you threw yourself back into schoolwork. And when that wasn't enough you gave answers to the families of those bodies you uncovered. Not just once but three times."

"You knew about the others?" Lydia flinched.

Natalie squeezed tighter. "You're a hero."

Lydia closed her eyes. She thought about how helpless she felt each time she found a dead body, how she only screamed so hard it left her feeling empty inside. She thought about running through the forest away from Allison when they should have stayed together. She thought about going to Scott for help but feeling mad at him instead, when she resented him for adjusting to all this supernatural stuff while she just wanted to cry into her Mom's arms. "No, I'm not a hero, Mom."

"Say that to missing kid you found last night or the family who were probably crazy with worry."

"I'm not-" Lydia's negation died on her lips. The Department hadn't told her Mom about Stiles. She thought about how determined she was heading into the woods to find Stiles and how determined she felt now to not see him again. She was not up for that conversation. She might not be up to that for hours, if not days. "I'm just tired," she finished lamely. Her Mom nodded, kissed her on the cheek, said she loved her and gave her another squeeze before letting go.

As Lydia ambled up the steps and she could hear her Mom threaten to check in on her every hour on the hour. The thought warmed her.

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Track 03 - Of Moons, Birds and Monsters by MGMT

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{Evening – Argent' House, Westwood Neighborhood}

Summoned up from the ether Kate clung to the kitchen doorway, popped her head in and greeted her family with a big smile. "Hey, big Brother!"

"Littler Sister?" Chris grinned from over the kitchen counter where he stole food from the containers he unpacked.

Kate winked, slinking further into the room, "Victoria and my favorite niece."

"Kate," Victoria Argent looked up as she placed her freshly cut Herbaceous Peonies as a centerpiece.

"I'm your only niece," Allison smiled while she counted plates for guests and attempted to pile them up without having them tip.

"Alrighty, so what's the plan?" Kate came forward, smacked her brother's hands away only to stick her fingers under the lid and taste-test dinner. "We've got 5 extra heads," she licked at her fingertips "and I'm fairly sure you don't have 5 extra beds." She lifted a few of the containers her brother left behind and followed the trail Victoria led to the dinner table.

"Tyhurst has been staying in town," Victoria settled down the centerpiece and started to lay out the silverware.

"Figures," Kate snorted. She had enough trouble keeping him in line when he was underfoot. "That guy doesn't play well with others."

"Do you think JR would want to stay in the Main House with Roman here or is the Father and Son dynamic still strained?" Victoria's concerned was the most deeply dire tone so far.

Kate chuckled, "Roman's Father/Son dynamic is perfectly healthy, only it's with his Uncle Norman. I don't think he and JR would play well under the same roof. Argents grudges can last generations, as you well know."

"Roman and Norm can head out to the bunk house-garage and tuck-in with Axel," Chris offered blithely. He had finished settling all the aluminum trays on the table and a beer materialized in his hand. "Leveque and Ulrich have been switching off between there and the main house." He explained between sips until Victoria took the bottle away and encouraged him to try again. He sighed and started to rearrange the trays like a Tetris champion. "Axel can get a real sausage fest going on out there if everyone doubles up. He has made a project of converted the garage into a Lodge."

"Oh man, Axel must love having that many people around. Seriously, how many times has he threatened to burn the place down while they slept?" Kate laughed and opened a beer bottle herself.

"Every morning, noon and night. Rumy and Bennet are already in one guestroom. Upstairs, you and Livy can have the other," Chris concluded. After taking a draught from her husband's beer Victoria returned it to him as his just reward for a job well-done.

"Yeah, no." Kate nearly choked than readjusted to lean on the wall nearest Allison, "Have you ever tried to share a room with Livy? I can bunk with Allison. Is that okay." It wasn't even stated as a question.

"Sure." Saying 'No' at that point would have been way too obvious. "Of course," Allison shrugged and gave her Aunt the sweetest smile she could manage, "I mean, your stuff is already there, why not?"

"So, that sorts it out. Livy gets the second guestroom," Chris clinked the top of his beer bottle against his Sister's, "It's going to be interesting having a full house again. I don't think we've had this full of a house since we teamed up with the Calavera's over that borderline Berserker infestation 3 years ago."

"The Berserkers! Dark days, big Brother," they took a long swig together. Even Victoria made a pained face at the mention of it. She went to pour herself a glass of red wine.

"In case he hasn't thanked you-" Victoria lifted her glass.

"I was getting to it," Chris sputtered and glowered toward his wife.

"We're grateful you could instantly turn up. These are strange days." And she took a long sip. What a strange cheer, Allison thought to herself, but everyone drank to it. She held up a glass of water and did the same. Her Mother smiled and winked at her, unnoticed by the others.

"Yeah, really thanks," Chris walked closer to Kate, the discomfort made her drink a little faster, "considering the criminal threat you're under just entering Beacon Hills. I just figured if there is an expert on this it's going to be you."

"So, how soon can I see the body?" Kate finished the bottle, nodded, and put it down on the table just a little too hard.

"Tyhurst says he can get you in as soon as tomorrow," said Victoria.

"Aunt Kate is banned from Beacon Hills?" which right after she said it Allison realized she probably maybe should have asked Aunt Kate in private. And she definitely should not have asked about it in such a scandalized gossipy tone.

"Banned isn't exactly the word, exiled might be closer to it-" when Chris gave her a warning look Kate changed her demeanor and hugged Allison, squeezed her just a little too tightly, "-but if you want to hear about why I'm banned from Boca Raton sometime that might be a sit-down conversation worth recording."

In turn Victoria cast Chris, a warning glance paired with that Motherly tone that warned everyone in the room to let the topic die. "We should probably have a real 'Argent' meeting first thing in the morning, tonight what's say we catch up?"

"Come on little Sister," Chris finished his beer and settled it down just beside her empty bottle. "They're already setting up long range targets."

"Are you challenging me?" she cackled. She didn't get one foot before she eyed her fellow challengers, "You 2 coming or what?"

Victoria polished off her glass, Allison left hers behind.

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Following in their 'Pick and Choose' traditionalism the Argents held a family meal for every home coming, once Kate's Team rejoining their household doubled in size.

There was Tyhurst whom Allison had heard from earlier with his uppity reports from the Sheriff's Station. Tyhurst was a tryhard and thanks to his CIA background gave them easier access to government services but made his attitude impossible.

Livy, an Amazonian Queen, and Kate's 2nd in command. She held expertise in practically everything and rarely carried a weapon because she made an arsenal of whatever's on hand. Livy taught great hand-to-hand but had the personality of a bloodthirsty wet blanket.

Uncle & Nephew partners, Norm and Roman Argent, who seemed closer to Father and Son worked expertly together as Longbowman and Marksman. Their medical training benefited their rough-and-tumble nature.

Partners Leveque and Ulrich were soldiers of fortune and were ideal to work with because the left often to other Hunter Teams. They were engineers, mechanics, infantry, trainers, teachers, trackers, and were well-versed in the basics.

Although Fry was traded off often, he wasn't a soldier of fortune. He was a brilliant Tactician and many Hunter Teams fought to keep him close. He seemed like an intense person but the moment he was off the clock it was all stories and jokes except being in such high demand meant he was always working.

(Uncle) Axel, didn't have a partner anymore, probably because he was too grumpy for anyone to want to work with him. But beside rarely coming up from the converted Lodge on the edge of the grounds, Axel was a staple in Chris' team. Always available to hunt or train, but that's all. Not just because he was because he was disciplined, but because he was lousy company.

The upstairs guestroom was shared by Bennett, (Allison's partner) and Rumy, (Chris' partner). It seemed they had their own ideas for welcome home plans. Other than a family meal. They came clomped downstair and brought out more customized artillery than Allison even knew they owned.

It went nearly 12 hours before anyone brought up Allison had snuck out. It took somewhere near to 7 hours to even get everyone into the main house, another 3 hours for them to stop racing their ATV's back at the Preserve and showing off their shooting techniques, another 2 hours for them to settle down for their actual meal. Then finally Tyhurst opened his big fat mouth.

Happy to have their BH Liaison on site, he went at it with both barrels; Tyhurst asked Kate if she would come into the Sheriff's Station in the morning to get appraised on the Preserve killing.

"It's dissimilar from the deaths. There's staged violence. Looks like there's feigned mutilation intended mimic other scenes, but this scene was disturbed partway through setting it up. There's brutality but no real violence."

Unsurprisingly as he went into detailed descriptions it did little to curb Hunters' appetites. He added as a point of interest, it would be easy for Kate to pass into the Sheriff's Station without examining her paperwork too closely; the department would be distracted with return of the Sheriff's long-lost son.

"I didn't know he had a son," Tyhurst probed, looking insistently across the table between the two Team leaders, Kate and Victoria.

Allison nearly gagged on her lettuce. "Uhm, yes. I don't know his full name, but his nickname is Stiles."

"So, you know him?" her Father looked doubtful, under his harsh gaze she readjusted her seat.

Bennett laughed a little, "are you practicing your interrogation techniques before dessert been served?"

"Yeah, come on Chris. Are you holding it against the girl that she's doing better recon than you?" Kate leaned forward onto elbows.

"Is that why you skipped school today?" Victoria added primly, wiping her upper lip of red wine in a manner that made it look like blood.

"What?" Allison blinked at the illusion; she didn't know how but she was certain her Mother did that on purpose.

"Don't think it went unnoticed, Allison."

"Yeah, kid. They've been pouring in since 9am," agreed Norm.

"You've been here all school-day, running around underfoot just like when you were little." Fry took that Fatherly tone that was factually Fatherlier than her own. It was too endearing and impossible to argue.

"Traitor," she stuck her tongue out.

"Did you help find the Sheriff's lost son?" Livy asked and her voice weighed down any levity the conversation might have had. Allison nodded. "That's good." She looked to Chris and Victoria for confirmation, and then around to Kate. "That's smart."

"I wasn'-" she began to explain to a table full of Hunters that she wanted to find Stiles for personal reasons, for a reason not having anything to do with leverage over the Sheriff, but she knew they wouldn't get it. "I was just trying to help."

Rumy clapped a hand onto her shoulder with pride, she liked when he did that. Norm and Roman raised their beers to her, in teasing cheers. Kate gave her a wink and urged the conversation onto greener pastures.

Later, when they were clearing dishes together, Bennett patted her twice on the arm in condolences.

"Hey, if we're not grilling each other over big Family meal than we wouldn't know it was a Family meal."

"You're comparing my 'cutting class for bringing in a missing person', to your 'weapons misappropriations for impressing a townie'?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. And I think we did well."

Bennett always did make Allison laugh. They cleared the rest of the dining room together while the older (e.g., inebriated) adults hung out in the living room. The familiar faces, sounds and smells brought a coziness that pressed up against her sleepless-night and made it impossible for her to keep her eyes open. Allison felt like a child again and grinned happily when Aunt Kate tugged her arm and brought her up to bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow despite it being 8pm. It would have been restful under any other circumstance, except for the moment she realized by agreeing to share a room with beloved Aunt Kate she'd kissed goodbye any chance of sneaking in and out of her bedroom window ever again.

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Track 04 - Wolf Like Me by TV On The Radio

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{Wednesday/Thursday: Midnight - Stilinski's House, 2nd Floor, Stiles' Bedroom}

While he laid awake Stiles stared at the shapes in the ceiling. When he was younger, he would make stories out of out the outlines of the staccato; from the corner of the ceiling where it turned to swirls, he concocted into adventures of pirates versus aliens versus Ninja Turtles. (Didn't matter how EPIC the sleepless stories they told each other about the ceiling, Batman always won.) Not once had it occurred to him the ceiling swirls were mostly shaped like boobs. Years later, sleepless, and antsy and trying to reacclimatize he didn't see epic adventures. He only saw boobs. He wondered if growing up under this ceiling the observation would have been gradual or a snappishly quick. Would he have shouted it out at Scott or vice versa? Either way it was not helping him sleep. He lay atop the bedspread; he couldn't fake sleep enough to get under the sheets. He stopped unpacking all the gear his Dad had bought for him throughout day because it made him feel guilty; guilty because his Dad felt like he had to spend so much to make up for lost time, guilty because he owned many things they were just far away in the Mountains. But he still wanted them, and he wasn't sure he was supposed to. Also felt guilty his restlessness might keep the house up and someone deserved to sleep even if he couldn't.

Yep. Boobs. He wished Scott was around so he could tell him about the boobs. Everything was the same but just strange.

He sensed a shift in the house. More than just his Father's restlessness. Something ominous. He shot out of bed and feared his Father would be exposed to something supernatural. He skidded over to the bedroom door and listened to the house. A noise came from the window instead, so he grabbed the nearest object as a weapon and flew toward it. Scott threw his hands in the air and yelled in surprise. Stiles waved the bat aimlessly in the air and yelled in return.

"Scott, what the hell are you doing?!"

"I don't have your phone number." Scott's voice winced, then he lowered his hands slowly. "Why do you have your little league bat?"

Stiles looked at the bat in dismay then back to Scott in confusion, "I thought you were a predator!"

"Why would you need a bat? You're a freakin' Werewolf!" Scott whisper-shouted while gesturing at him.

"Oh." Stiles placed the bat gingerly on the bed as if it would explode. "Right. Why are you here?" he whisper-shouted back.

"Better question; why haven't you asked me in already?"

"Ah, right. Scott, would you get inside already before my Dad sees you."

"Totally. Cool. Thanks." Scott grinned and scrambled in the window.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles shook his head and took a seat beside him on the sill.

"I came to bring you this," Scott shrugged off Stiles' backpack and handed it over.

Although delighted, genuinely bouncy excited to get something 100% his back he doubted Scott's sincerity. His squinty-eyed expression said as much.

"Plus, I couldn't sleep," he admitted sheepishly. "I wanted to see if you were awake."

"Definitely awake now," after clutching his backpack to his chest he then tossed it aside. "Wanna go for a walk so we don't wake up my Pop?"

"Sure." Scott paused climbing up onto the sill, "by walk you mean run?"

"-by run you mean last one to the river is a big fat smelly loser- dude, you didn't even let me finish the sentence. Not cool."

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The Mad River ran south from a mountain range, from Fairvale into Beacon Hills and splintered into several running creeks through their area of the Preserve. But whenever kids in Beacon Hills referred to 'The River' they specifically meant where the Mad River turned just after a bend of the 101 where it was widest. It's where all the kids snuck off to dare their daringest dares, dive their highest dives and leap their farthest leaps. Of course, it would be the first place they would race.

They sped through urban greenery; skirting backyards, jumping over pools, and skidding around hedges until they made it from pavement to soil. The game wasn't just to get there fastest but who could be unseen. Aside from cataract riddled Mrs. Catrina on her late-night dog walk, when after a loud yelp from both Stiles and the dog they went pretty much unnoticed. At the topmost part of town, they soon ran out of path, while they stood on a rock face over the river and the starless sky swayed above them.

They hadn't kept track of who was fastest which hardly mattered with the view and the company.

"Do you ever just look out on a crazy view like this," Scott gestured to the puffs of clouds encapsulating the pale waning moon. "Out here where almost no one ever gets to and think 'nah man, I just see boobs.'"

Stiles barked with laughter. 'Scott McCall, ladies and gents. Keen observer of nature and his best-friend.' He'd never been prouder, and he would have said as much if he could have caught his breath. Scott's laughter died sooner, and he watched Stiles with something close to concern.

Stiles smacked away Scott's offered hand of help to stand upright. Scott smacked his arm back. Back and forth they smacked at each other for a few minutes before the realized how close was exactly too close to be horsing around at the edge of a cliff.

"Remember when we were too scared to even get a third of the way up this hill?"

Scott nodded. "After you left, I was frightened of hills man, 'til I got my bike." He didn't say Cliffside, but it felt implied.

"What changed?" Stiles grinned over and shook his legs out one at a time.

"I don't know." Scott glanced at the horizon for a moment then watched Stiles move around. "I guess I thought speeding past the edges made me less likely to stop and look. You know and just keep looking."

Stiles knew Scott meant 'searching'. After a moment Stiles squinted at Scott in disbelief. "I can see that."

"What?" Scott laughed.

"Without someone to show you the ropes, somehow you got great control." They thought on supernatural things.

"I had Allison," Scott grinned back and moved around like talking about her made his inside writhe. "She brings me back, she's been my anchor."

"That's great," Stiles adjusted his neck, somehow this made Stiles uncomfortable.

"That is great" Scott asserted.

Stiles took a deep breath, but a deliberation, "I'm really sorry I couldn't be here for you. Can I ask how'd it happen?"

Confused, Scott simply shrugged, "isn't always the same, with a bite?"

"-nah, it's always different even when it's a bite. You've got to be very healthy to be bitten but sometimes very near to death. You can drink rainwater from the puddle of a Werewolf's print or sometimes ingesting the blood of a natural born Werewolf. You can be born into a pack, even than you might never change-"

Stiles droned on ticking items off of his fingers and Scott eyes widened with each example.

"That's a lot," he interrupted when a particular item piqued his interest. "You can be born a Werewolf? That sounds a lot easier than attacked and left at the side of the road."

"shit."

"Hey, at least I had Allison." Scott hadn't meant to upset Stiles only it seemed once he started, he couldn't stop. "When Lydia was attacked, she was left alone for days."

"Lydia?" the breath Stiles took in earlier left him, whatever bolstered him on went out. His eyes turned small and intent.

They said little after that. They took in the view and shared each other's restlessness. Finally, Stiles burst to his feet and suggested a run home in hopes of burning away some anxiety. It didn't.

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"Hey, Dad how you doin'?" Stiles barely made it under his covers.

His Dad (the now Sheriff, Stiles reminded himself) leaned in through the bedroom door grinning sheepishly as he knocked after having slipped in.

"Great, just checking in. Making sure you're comfortable. Getting a good night sleep your first night back."

"Yes. Excellent." Stiles words were clipped. "Still here. Brilliant. Just dead leg you know how it is... then off to dreamland." To exhibit as much, he kicked around under the blanket and smacked his leg over the bedspread and tried to make it sound anywhere similar to the ruckus they'd made climbing through the window.

"Sure, it isn't too warm in there? I can adjust the heat," his Dad made a step toward the heater.

"No! Not too warm or too cold. The temperature is just right! So, goodnight."

"Goodnight, oh and son. Can you tell your friend to use the front door? He doesn't always have to break in."

"But we lock the front door," Stiles whined and threw off the covers along with the guise. "He wouldn't be able to get in!"

"Yeah, exactly" his Dad walked off with a grin and shut the door behind him.

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From beneath the bed Scott rolled out, his lungs burst from the breath he held. The sight of him caused Stiles to nearly swallow his lower lip to keep from choking on his laughter.

"You're not underwater, Scott" Stiles scrambled to the edge of the bed. Scott crawled nearer and when he could breathe again, he laughed too. "Dude, you broke into my house before?" Stiles leaned over Scott's shoulder.

"Technically, I had a key the last time..." Scott disputed while he wiped moisture from his eyes.

"Last time?" Stiles grinned.

"The time before that Lydia let me in. You know, this is just making me look bad." Scott struggled not to laugh again.

Stiles settled and stared around the room. He had trouble imagining what sort of reason made Lydia come into his childhood 'no girls allowed' room until he remembered what it is his best-friends had grown up to do; Scott's hyper-sensitivity and abilities to run faster than the fastest animal while Lydia weird sensing of places and people.

"Sooooo," Stiles failed at casual, "Lydia was bitten?"

Scott shook his head, while he pulled himself to sit further up, "I know she was hurt and changed but I'm not sure bitten for certain. Not that she would talk to me anyway. We're not exactly friends."

With a look of great offence, Stiles plummeted the 1½ ft to the floor to sit beside Scott, "How the hell did you let that happen? I mean she was always a bit 'Aloof', 'Unavailable'" he changed the pitch of his voice as he said so and batted his eyes to boot "but now it's more 'Ice-Queen.'" He pouted his lips and raised his chin in mimicry.

"We grew apart I guess," Scott sat up and leaned his head against the bed. He wanted to assure Stiles it wasn't as terrible as it seemed, but he wasn't certain how one night camped out on the bedroom floor would cover the social climate of 6 years. "She started hanging out with the cool crowd. After a while we only had one thing in common. You."

"What a fail," Stiles buried his face in his hands, "Totally not doing your job, man." He groaned and rubbed his face hard enough to practically scrub off a layer of skin. "You were supposed to help keep her happy but humble, dragging her down to our nerd depths. Scarlet-nerded by us."

"I don't know. She looks pretty happy up there herding together with the beautiful people."

"Seriously? Seriously! Seriously! I'm going to have to do some learning on you people. This is no way for best-friends to be acting."

"And you would know because?"

"Because your space needs invading by the mighty that is my person, that's all I'm sayin'." Stiles proclaimed, kneeling, and getting into Scott's face. After a pause he realized how close their noses were and he added. "In the non-porn variety."

Scott smiled. "I'm pretty okay with this."

Stiles smiled "Alright?"

Scott then grinned "Alright!"

"First my digits," Stiles hopped up and grabbed his cell phone off his computer desk.

"That's pretty wise," Scott stood and pulled out his phone as well.

"Second, I've got to say. Us both being Werewolves together, pretty bad-ass. Amiright?"

"Hell, yes!" They simultaneous jumped up, around and tried to shush the other.

"Third, you gotta be okay with Isaac being around."

"What?" Scott fumbled putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Come on don't 'what' me with those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of yours. They kill me, I mean they're working some voodoo and I can see why Allison couldn't resist your wolfie charms, but this is important to me. The guy's like a brother. Admittedly a brother who I a-little-bit can't stand, maybe I served him an Alpo-filled cake on his birthday, but," he shrugged catching a breath mid ramble, "he's got his claws into me in a pack-like way. I don't need you guys to be in love, but I need you guys to be in a congenial way."

Scott struggled to follow along. "Okay, but I do have a girlfriend. I think she'd something to say about prison visitations-"

"Congenial, not conjugal, Scott." Stiles rubbed at his temple. "Just try and get along. I know a guy who can score us Scooby treats," he bribed. Scott laughed at that.

"He's a pain to me, but he did want to keep you safe. Plus, he's cares about Lydia. I respect that."

"cool." Stiles sounded less convinced of his own argument.

"and it will be easy to do that since you'll be trying just as hard to get along with Allison."

"right." and less convinced.

"exactly."

"totally."

"uh-huh."

"of course."

"awesome."

"not a problem."

"Can't wait," they both said.

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Track 05 - When I'm Small by Phantogram

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{Thursday: Morning – BHHS, City Central}

The BHHS school day moved along like a well-oiled machine.

Isaac turned up for practice early, anticipating a confrontation with Scott, only to find that their attempt at nicety almost came across as flirty. Isaac had no clue how to deal with Scott's newfound fondness; abandonment, vulnerability, and bitterness at being drugged didn't wear well the next day. Isaac didn't have to use words to say so.

Scott rushed late to his 1st period class Human Anatomy, which he shared with Allison. To their benefit Mr. Harris had separated everyone into groups for drill testing and they were forced to sit in absolute silence. Scott could hand the talisman back unseen and spend the next 42 minutes in the company of the one person he wanted most to share words with and if that had to be denied. They held hands between their seats for the better part of the class.

During Homeroom Allison used all the time afforded to transfer data from the flash drive onto her tablet.

Lydia managed to slip from room to room unmarred, surrounded by an entourage of popular kids. Isaac tried to catch her eye during Homeroom but could barely get within 30 feet. Lydia waited for Algebra2 to begin before she slipped into her assigned seat beside Scott. He grasped for words to say before deciding on "Hi!" When partnered up they were grateful she took on all the work, leaving her too busy for them to talk.

On their way to Chemistry Isaac had had enough. When Lydia closed her locker and he stood behind it, while a few lockers down Madison shrugged in meek apology at not being able to hold up as Lydia's blockade.

Lydia rolled her eyes and continued to swap out her Algebra2 book for Chemistry.

"I woke up in a garage," he griped.

"Yes, you did," she slipped the textbook into her purse without making eye contact.

"It was humiliating."

"Count yourself lucky," Lydia slammed closed the locker, "You didn't wake up on woodland floor, Lupin."

"You are mad?" his face got nearer, voice lower. He hardly recognized this girl from the memory of the Lydia who rushed to catch him when he fell in the woods. Only he certainly believed her to be the girl who was most likely to push him out of a moving car.

"I think so, yes." Lydia turned sharply and she stalked off.

"Why are YOU mad?" he caught up to her in two strides. He continued to have to walk in reverse to keep eye contact with her while storming off.

"Because while we were whatever we were, you were a Werewolf," she did not whisper but she wasn't shouting either, just pointed. "You knew things but were perfectly content keeping me in the dark."

"Lydia," he stopped short, he kept his expression cocky. She would have to slam into him if she continued her stride, "everything we did was in the dark. You preferred it that way."

Her stare radiated and her smile became tight. "Don't try to be witty. You're not good at it. For your information I'm having trouble reconciling that we were hooking up for a while before I got attacked by one of your kind."

"Yeah, So?" an edge grew to his voice.

Her tone became haunted, "I have questions that need answering. Like 'who can I trust'?"

Isaac stood back, he felt hurt. Lydia sincerely felt he took an active part in setting up her attack. It's true he hadn't warned her off the supernatural and her nearness to Scott was so attractive at the time, but he never considered she might be in danger. And he never had any malicious intent toward her. "Do you even want to trust me?"

Lydia looked down and away, hesitant in her conviction. "You are so far down the list Isaac."

"But I'm on the list?"

"But you're on that list," without looking up she conceded with a nod. She saw Allison from the corner of her eye, Isaac followed the line of sight and got the hint he should move on. She looked at Allison critically, "It's a pretty long list."

Allison slid up alongside her and Lydia smiled brightly. Isaac opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing came out, instead he backed away without taking his eyes off the Hunter until he got to the end of the corridor.

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Track 06 - String by MsMr

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{BHHS, 1st Floor, Hallways}

"I don't think he likes me anymore," said Allison.

"It's not that he doesn't like you, it's just your very presence makes him 'Quiver'."

"Archery puns?" Allison smirked in amusement, "Nice. I think he's out of hearing range now."

They looked to each other, and their smiles faded while they waited for the other to speak first. When that didn't happen, they turned and walked toward the Chemistry class in synchronicity.

They crossed into the lab when Allison finally had to ask, "you're mad at him?"

Lydia hmm-ed passively.

"Because he didn't confess his identity but you're not angry at me?"

"I've got a method to my madness," she said matter-of-factly. She sat primly and tapped the seat beside her with a subtle smile but a forward demand.

Allison hesitated before she sat "you can be scary sometimes."

"Yeah?" Lydia's voice peaked as she smirked, "You texted me that you found something at your parents'?"

Allison whipped out a tablet and swiped through data at blurred speed. She stopped at a page in the bestiary at an image of several women wailing over a field of dead bodies.

"Something you said in the woods reminded me of this."

"Nice," Lydia commented dryly. "Is that meant to put me at ease?"

"Look here. There are some additional notes from my Grandfather on the side. 'Banshee screams before Supernatural related death. As a premonition.'"

"'Not,'" her head tilted to the side with interest.

"I'm sorry?" Allison's eyebrows shot up.

"It says NOT as a premonition. - 'A Banshee screams preceding a supernatural death not as a premonition but to highlight the likelihood of supernatural events that result in deaths.' - It's a bit different. Your Grandfather mistranslated it."

Allison's jaw dropped, "You can read Latin?"

"It's Archaic Latin." Lydia glanced up, sparkle in her eye, as if it were the most common thing. "What? I got bored with regular Latin."

"Exactly how smart are you?"

"Very," she delivered with an insufferable shrug and smirk combination. "So, you think I'm a Banshee?"

Allison nodded and Lydia sat up, propped her chin up on her right hand and considered this. The left hand reached over and restlessly scrolled between the image and the text. BANSHEE.

An identification: Lydia felt a loss move through her, carrying not just burden but a language she could not describe. It somehow brought peace too confusing to say aloud, only it had to be endured and explored further. "Can I make a copy of this?"

She gave her tablet to Lydia, "Sure. Are you looking for something specific?"

Lydia looked sad for a moment and tried to smile. "Yes, people to trust."

"You think you can find it there?"

"Already started," under the table between them, unnoticed she took Allison's hand in her own and held it.

"Thanks, but why me?" Allison's mouth lengthened into an easy smile.

"Because you just handed me an ancestral manifesto on how to track and kill supernatural beings, but you want to use this to save them instead. You didn't blink an eye when you put it in my hands."

"Lydia, what's going on?"

"This describes here how I hear things, things no one can hear. Like with schizophrenia."

Allison squeezed Lydia's hand. "You're not schizophrenic," she added fiercely.

"Allison, sometime-" Lydia considered that, "-I'm not going to know that. I need to believe in something, and it can't be me."

"Sure, you can..."

"No," she bit her lip "I can't." She stopped talking as if a stray thought caught her up, but it hadn't formed a sentence yet. She shook it off and looked to Allison, willing herself not to cry. "It's happening more often. I don't know what's going on. I don't know where I am or what I'm hearing. At least now I know for sure I'm not schizophrenic, so that's a step in the right direction. Thank you for that."

"We'll figure it out Lydia. I promise you."

"I believe you."

Even when Allison lied Lydia sensed an honest to God good reason for it and she needed that. She leaned in and Allison wrapped her arms around her.

"Lydia," she let her go and smiled eagerly, a plan forming in her mind. "We should research more of this after school today?"

"Sure, I'll come to your house." Allison faced forward and Lydia followed, sliding the tablet deep into her purse.

"Ah, no actually. My Aunt Kate is in town visiting. We won't have privacy." The thought of her Aunt caused Allison to stiffen up like a statue.

Lydia leaned over in concern, "isn't that good?"

"Maybe," she clutched her Chem. book, her hands strangling out her anxiety. "I love her. She's my favorite Aunt, my only Aunt but-"

"But?"

"She's part of something bigger I've got to figure out exactly what."

"Oh, isn't that nice," Lydia's tone started as sarcasm drifted into something like curiosity.

Allison followed Lydia's gaze to where Scott lingered by the classroom door.

"Oh, that's great." Allison ducked behind her book.

Curiosity further piqued, "Trouble in paradise?"

Allison shook her head in misery. "No! Everything is good." She sounded very much like it wasn't. "I only tricked my boyfriend into coming out as a Werewolf. He tricked me into saying I love you. We tricked my Aunt into thinking we weren't stealing ancient family secrets by faking a hand job on my Mother's vanity."

Lydia outright laughed. "Well that sounds downright cliché. A Werewolf boy from other side of the tracks and his Hunter girlfriend from a posh family; How will their love survive?"

Allison glared at her.

"In all seriousness Allison, the question that needs to be asked right now; were you pitching or receiving?"

"Lydia! Oh my god oh my god oh my god," and she hit her head with her textbook, repeatedly.

"Asked and answered," she tittered.

"Until I thought of my Aunt I'd forgotten that even happened," her face continued to redden, "I can't see him right now."

"In the afterglow of a successful covert mission?"

"I'll see you later," Allison snapped closed her book and shoved it in her backpack. "I've suddenly remembered I've got to see Ms. Morrell about a Language Art make-up exam. I'll leave you to spend time with your friend." She bolted from her seat, leaving it available for the choosing just as class began.

"No. No, we used to be friends..." Lydia's eyes went wide, then sighed and convinced herself, "used to be. Never mind."

As she suspected Scott had taken note over the distance. He gave that dimpled, knowing smile and Lydia felt mildly responsible for Allison abandoning him, she quickly hid her face behind her textbook.

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Track 07 - Ghosts by Sir Sly

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{BHHS, Courtyard}

In the courtyard of Beacon Hills High School, Sheriff Stilinski marched toward his car with his son behind him. Stiles bounced on the balls of his new Nike's (thanks Dad), and he looked distinctly triumphant. Determined not to leave he prepared to make the perfect argument.

"Nurse McCall and Dr. Geyer helped prove I'm not dead."

The Sheriff shook his head, didn't stop his stride while he clarified the statement. "Melissa did us a favor to rush the hospital's verdict. It's not up to us to abuse it-"

"Exactly!" seemed close enough to Stiles. "So, I'll stay here while you head back to the Station and investigate investigatory things."

The Sheriff stopped and turned to face his hard-headed son. The argument was on. "You're not a student yet. You start tomorrow."

"Although aren't we all students, of life," he gestured vaguely toward the air.

"A 'Registered Student', wise ass." he grimaced, "You may want to think twice about sassing the man with the gun."

"No sass. If you leave me here, I'll stay out of trouble." Stiles' eyes went large, in an attempt to look innocent, but instead he looked a little crazed.

"If I leave you here you will not stay out of trouble," his Dad tried not to laugh.

"If you leave me here Scott will keep me out if trouble."

"If I leave you here you will just get Scott into trouble."

A stalemate: annoyed, the Sheriff intently looked on while his son desperately grappled for logic. Finally, he sped through a monologue "Well, if that's your argument than if you took me back with you to the Station I will probably just get into big trouble. I might even get you into trouble. But here? Half the day is over. I'll just shadow a couple of classes, meet the staff. It's pretty much just lunch and lacrosse practice left. Then Scott can give me a ride back to the Station. You will hardly notice I'm missing."

That was poorly phrased. The Sheriff crossed his arms and frowned at him. "I always notice when you're missing."

It was meant in jest, which was clear as day, but it hurt both of them. His Dad reached out and squeezed his shoulder like he had to make sure Stiles was still real. After a second he smiled. "Hell, with your mouth the whole Station will notice you're missing. Fine, but there's a few rules first."

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Track 08 - Back From The Dead by Sklyar Grey

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· {3rd period, Chemistry with Mr. Harris}

Scott jumped to his feet, "Mr. Harris, can I be excused?

Every student in the class startled upright in their seats. Mr. Harris turned away from the board where he'd been scribing off facts from his brain like a Dictaphone before then pop-quizzing. His patience wore thin on the strained bit of chalk in his hand, so it snapped. "Do you need to go to the restroom?"

"- no," he started with much less conviction but continued anyway. "I just... there's a new guy, not dead guy... I want-he's new-so because."

"McCall, pick a sentence and go with it."

He shouldered his backpack on, assuming 'No' wasn't an option and cleared his throat. "There's a new student; I signed on with Coach Finstock to show him around. I just saw him arrive."

"As always athletics takes precedence over academics, I can understand your neanderthalic intensity," he added bitterly and returned to the board. "I'll allow it since it's unlikely to affect your D average, McCall."

"Thanks for understanding," Scott said sincerely. He made it 2 feet before he swiveled around "Lydia?"

"Huh?" Lydia and Mr. Harris looked over at Scott with identical open-mouthed surprised expressions. Scott stared pleadingly at Lydia. He even made little not-too-subtle waving gestures for her to follow.

"Can she come to represent Academics? Since it's unlikely to affect her A+ average?"

"Ms. Martin?" Mr. Harris tone had a nasal warning edge.

After a 2 second glance shared between them both, Lydia scooped up the tablet and books from her desk and shoved them into the depths of her purse.

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Track 09 - New Theory by Washed Out

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"Try to make a good 1st impression," said the Sheriff with a deep sigh.

"Really?" Stiles surprised him pounced on him with a hug, which was new. He jumped back, and they both looked around awkwardly not commenting on it.

"Just try not to bite anyone," undeterred, his Dad reached over put an arm around Stiles' shoulders and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"What? Right, of course! I'm not 5 anymore Dad."

"No, you're not. So, try not to burn the place down either," the pressure around his kid went from affectionate to threatening.

"Got it. No arson on the 1st day," grinning, Stiles wriggled out of the hold.

"Good," his Dad waved while turning to walk off. "There's Lydia. When in doubt ask her; she smarter than you and less likely to incite a riot."

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Track 10 - You're A Wolf by Sea Wolf

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· {Still 3rd period, 1st Floor North Hallways}

As time went on Lydia lagged behind. Scott led on but he hesitated constantly, stopping to look in different directions before he turned down a hall or went through a door.

"You're being weird," she muttered behind him.

"But this is weird," he whispered excitedly and hurried around another corridor.

"-Obsessive thoughts-" she sighed in a mumble, knowing he could hear her over the distance "-inability to focus, inability to sit still, rapid breathing, hyper awareness. Sounds like you're suffering from GAD."

"Is that bad?" he stopped finally at the doors leading to the courtyard.

"General Anxiety Disorder. Yes, I'm officially diagnosing you as being weird about spending time with Stiles. Why did you pull me out of class? I don't even see him anywhere."

"I didn't see him either, but I heard him with his Dad," he gestured with his head toward the door, "from out there. Except it sounded like they were in the classroom with us."

"Incredible," still not certain what being a Werewolf entailed, Lydia looked on in awe. Only not favorably more analytical. Although they were still on odd terms, when it came to people to trust Scott hadn't lied to her. Not once. Not one annoyingly boisterous well-intentioned overwhelming time. She remained unfamiliar with how to handle that, never mind whatever data he gave her to process next.

"Yeah? You think so," Scott looked very uncomfortable under her analytical eye. "To hear things like - like my Mom telling people that she doesn't trust me anymore, my teammates plotting against me and my girlfriend's heart rate every time she lies to me! It's ruined my life." He hadn't noticed his voice get louder.

Leaning away from him, her back pressed against the doorframe, propping open the door towards the sunny courtyard, seemingly to give herself enough air and space to tap her heel with increasing aggravated speed; she had not enjoyed this interaction. The more intently she listened the more her face closed off, her lips pressed into a bitten line, her eyes narrowed. "Scott, it ruined your life? You can heal in seconds. You can see further, hear anything, and run faster than humanly possible. Your change sounds like a real hardship."

"I didn't mean to imply-" Scott started but couldn't finish, her tone brought him down a peg. It hadn't occurred to him these were the first words they had shared privately since their daring rescue. If he had a chance of forethought he might have planned better. Scott was not particularly good at coming up with the plans.

That was not their way of sharing; even when furious, she had a patient way of dealing with him and indebted his trust. Whether she kept his secrets because he really mattered or because he mattered little, either way whatever he said stayed locked away in the secret places they locked everything.

"It's just I can't talk to Allison about how mad all this makes me. It makes her worry I might lose control."

After Lydia considered it, she shrugged, "that makes sense." She wouldn't judge but whether she agreed or not would take her longer to decide.

Scott drew closer, bringing his voice low enough for her alone to hear. "I just thought I need someone to share this with. If we're being honest, I've never sensed anyone as angry as you."

"You're an idiot," at that Lydia smiled tentatively and tilted her head toward him. "It's not all that bad." It was nice to have your asset acknowledged. She had never advocated their shared Supernatural status before. But whenever they stood inside their little bitter bubble it felt like a safe space where anything was bearable, and where they could possibly learn to do good. "We did find Stiles."

Scott grinned, turned, and looked through the glass window of the half-open door, "his Dad is telling him not to burn down the school?"

"That's good advice."

Their bubble burst apart when Stiles barreled through the door.

The bell rang announcing the change of periods; when Lydia turned toward her English Lit class her purse swung heavily, and the tablet stabbed at her side. She could barely handle talking to Scott. She still felt angry toward Stiles for blowing her off the day before and under that she felt an unearthly confusion at having him back. There was no way she was prepared to handle that. When she paused and turned briefly back, she saw the way Stiles clung to Scott, they were already attached at the hip and the warmth of it brought to her made her smile despite her discomfort. She couldn't see a place for herself in their bubble.

"Oh, god, this is freakin' awesome!" Stiles leaned in on Scott.

"Yeah man," Scott pushed back, "I don't even know where to start!"

"Hey Lydia!" Stiles called loudly when he noticed Lydia disappearing among a sea of students "It looks like you're gonna ignore me... Can she just do that? I'll get her back," Stiles insisted.

"Looks like it. Man, maybe you have got to give her some space." Scott laughed and tried to pull him back. It didn't stop him.

"Nope, what we need is a plan."

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Track 11 - Angel (Manila Killa Remix) by The xx

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· {4th period, Lunch}

Allison ate her lunch at the outdoor seated area, near the front of the school because she assumed 1) the weather was brisk enough that students would prefer to eat in the lunchroom, 2) the few strays or PDA-ing couples would want privacy by the tables in the courtyard and 3) whatever rebels who dared to would maybe catch snacks while studying in the library.

Parking lot curb meals were in no way appealing which is why Allison thought she would be safe alone and never anticipated finding herself sandwiched between Stiles and Scott. She nearly choked on her water when Stiles excitedly pointed her out and ran up to plop down on the bench. His attempts at being the 'nice guy' were overt, a little discomforting but better than nothing. Meanwhile Scott's silent-shy guy routine on the opposite side was enough to run her off as well. But she wouldn't.

Stiles asked a lot of questions about their schedule, what classes they had together, she and Scott, she and Lydia, Lydia, and Scott, she and Isaac, Scott, and Isaac. Allison nodded sipping her water patiently and finally handed him her class schedule. She pointed out the periods.

"Zero. First is Human Anatomy with Scott. Homeroom with Scott. No one in Integrated Math. Lydia, Isaac, and Scott in Chem. Lunch then Lydia, Isaac, and Scott in English. Isaac in French. Isaac in Algebra 1. Lydia in Art. Gym. Electives." another sip of water, "those are mine, you have to ask them their schedules," she grinned. He grinned back.

Stiles handed her schedule to her and thought about what to ask next for a moment since his original intent got derailed it would seem. He noted how many classes they had together. "Do you get along with Isaac?"

"I do," she answered before thinking, "I did." She tried another sip but ran out of water. "Do you get along with Lydia?" she tried at an angle.

Stiles made a face, "I will." She smirked and offered him part of her turkey sandwich. He took it as a peace offering.

Allison wasn't opposed to psychoanalysis or interrogation techniques, she was just used to a better form of decorum.

"Hi, by the way" she continued awkwardly, since neither of them had actually started a conversation with a greeting. "It's soon to be integrated don't you think?" She immediately regretted how it came across as less curious than critical.

"Not really. Scott's-" Stiles tried between bites.

Scott finally spoke up, assuming it was his place to keep the peace when it wasn't "My Mom was at the hospital to help check him out." He sounded overly excited, like a dog waiting for a treat.

"I'm in the pink of health!" Stiles stepped forward putting his friend at ease. "Physically. They'll probably be poking for a long while, psych-eval, forensics, personality adapt-"

"Have you considered you may have AD/HD?"

"I did," he beamed at the recognition, "I do."

"Allison."

"What? I've never meet another one of your friends and I've never actually hung out with any Werewolves besides you. I'm curious?"

"I've never met Scott's girlfriends before except he tried to win my friend Heather in a game of cards."

"It was over a game of Uno, we were 5. And I didn't want to win her, I wanted to beat you. You shouldn't have bet her."

Allison laughed into her hand and tried to not interrupt their game of one-upmanship.

"Of course, she beat us both… with a wiffle bat when she found out what we did. Which in retrospect I shouldn't have told her."

"Because you had to brag that you'd won her. This technically makes her your girlfriend, not mine."

"Exactly, that brings me around to the point of how rare this is for me. I've never hung out with one of Scott's girlfriends before. Plus, I've never hung out with a Hunter before."

Things stilled after that, not intense, just still.

"Well," Scott started quietly, "I've never had a chance to introduce my best-friend to my girlfriend before. So that's new."

They both turned to look at him.

"The rest is just stuff," he added, a cheeky grin tugging at the side of his mouth.

Allison took a cue, turned back to Stiles, and nodded. She asked him how it was like to be back at Beacon Hills, how he liked BHHS so far. And when she spoke, she held Scott's hand and sounded more like a girlfriend.

"Weird, cool. They're moving along, pushing through agencies, I've settled on immersion therapy, instead of just waiting around the Station all day for him to get off."

Scott laughed loudly and though she tried not to, Allison followed.

"That came out wrong," Stiles swatted at Scott behind the head, while giving her a judging look as if to say, 'I expected better of you.'

The bell rang. "Listen, you 2 are going to attract attention and make Scott late for English Lit," with that she marched off leaving only the sound of small grey suede boots.

They struggled on the bench to get the other into a headlock until Stiles fell out and onto the floor.

"Did she say English?" he sounded way too eager.

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Track 12 - Eyes Wide Open by Gotye

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· {5th period, English Lit. with Mrs. Blake}

When surrounded by people. Or when arriving to class too late. Or when leaving class too early. Whatever deflection worked in short measure, but Jackson stood closest to getting Lydia's attention when he texted "thank god you're not dead," just before she crossed the threshold to English Lit. She would have ignored him, she meant to ignore him up until he had bribed Danny for the nearer seat behind her.

Talking during Ms. Blake's English Lt. seemed like the worst scenarios. The teacher looked sweet and spoke kindly but glared harshly while taking their cells at the start of every period. She was heavy handed, unyielding, and held more than lacrosse careers in the palm of her hand.

Lydia glared at Jackson as their teacher went past. He gave a sheepish look, and she rolled her eyes, determined to ignore him. Not possible when he scraped the desk closer to hers.

Lydia whipped around quick enough so that her hair hit him in the face. 'What' she mouthed.

Jackson reached forward, lower than desk level but not so low it could be seen. It wasn't suggestive or forceful or intimate even. When he touched her, it was as if he was afraid, she might shatter, a shiver went through them, and Lydia pulled further from him. Jackson expression swung between relieved and afraid.

"There was a girl," Jackson started.

Lydia shook her head. She knew the rest and didn't want him to continue but aside from yelling she wasn't sure how to make him stop.

"Red hair, blue eyes, 5'5. Just like you and-"

"No Jackson!" she found her voice and it was low and certainly angry. "That is not 'just like me'."

"A Deputy came to the school yesterday and you weren't here."

"Well, I'm here now-"

"Yeah," he gulped. After straightening up he seemed more like himself, in every way but the eyes. Through the doorway Isaac had muddled through and went toward their direction. "I figured considering the company you're keeping these days-?"

"Jackson," she groaned a warning and twisted back toward the front.

"How well do you even know these people? Do you even know who to trust?"

Lydia clutched her pencil as one would a knife. Across the aisles, Isaac sensed something wrong and straightened in his seat. She splayed her pencil evenly on the desk before her and smiled at a joke far off in her mind. "It would be easier to trust someone that you'd been with for over a year who knew the difference between 5'5 and 5'3. Or that your eyes are green and not blue or that it's strawberry blonde goddammit," she breathed out, "without having to be told. And it would be easier to trust you, if you didn't ask me why I have to trust them."

When Allison walked in waving at Lydia, Jackson eased back, her expression hardened at the sight of him crowding Lydia. The bell rang and Ms. Blake went to close the door to lock any late comers out permanently just as Scott slid in with Stiles in tow.

.

"We have a full house today," said Ms. Blake after collecting the last of their cell phones. "Try and squeeze in where you can."

A commotion ensued toward the rear where a couple of boys tried to fit into one chair. She snapped her fingers and pointed toward the wall where an additional desk sat unused and festooned with a layer of century-old dust. He looked displeased and displayed it by a sneezing fit as he settled it down, ill-fitting between two other students' desks.

"We're going to jump back into our discussion from last time on comparative writing; when is it derivative, when is it plagiarism, when is it homage or when is it an adaptation of a body of work? Okay guys, if you've been paying attention, you should be able to tell me when these are okay and why?

"Ms. Blake, wouldn't that be subject to taste?" Isaac spoke after she pointed at him. He seemed a bit surprised to be picked.

"That's a good argument Isaac but it isn't an answer. Come on guys, we're only reviewing. This is literally middle school stuff. I know you guys are burnt out, but you should have better answers by now, Allison?"

Allison seemed startled to find herself in a class. She flipped through a few loose pages on her desk that had nothing to do with the topic than remembered "-If you use direct quotes -if you cite them, I mean. It isn't plagiarism. It can be derivative but that's probably intentional... The author might try to hit the same themes but can come up with different results." Stilted but she got there.

Scott spoke up and she encouraged speaking up, but Scott was a reluctant speaker. It was obvious he felt most comfortable speaking over Allison. Allison over Scott. Peas of a pod "-my Dad once told me that there are no original stories left. He gave me his old Superman comics when he said that." There was some tittering.

A new voice added "I think I remember that!" Ms. Blake looked up from her notations. A dark horse in the running. "Wasn't he also trying to get you to go to Sunday school?"

"Oh, god." Lydia cut him off, "Stiles, that's because you two wouldn't stop talking. Still won't stop talking."

Undeterred Scott caught onto Stiles' thought, "and then Mom told me Superman was a retelling of Moses."

Followed by a doubtful pause in the air.

"I can see that." Danny added, "The last of his people. Prophesied savior, bundled, sent adrift until he became of age. Then he would rise up and save the people. All people."

Under the thoughtful murmuring was the not so thoughtful bragging, "I totally stole his comics every Sunday-"

To which Scott replied "-which Mom would only give me if we were quiet."

"So, at one point," Isaac started critically, "you were capable of quiet? The two of you? Together?"

Ms. Blake laughed and knew it was a good time to rein it in. She moved along the aisle and cut a physical line across their tensions, "they bring up a good point though. There is a finite number of words. Stories are going to be retold."

Stiles asked, "What if it's meant ironically?"

"Why did I get the feeling that would be your soapbox?" Ms. Blake smirked at him from where she stopped. She leaned against her desk, "I'll up you one, what if it's self-referential? Can you be witty without being sarcastic?"

Scott hid behind his hands, "Don't make a comeback, Stiles. Please, don't make a comeback."

Lydia leaned forward and spoke up, "And it's cross-referential or out of its original contexts. Does it then lose validity?"

That caught Ms. Blake's eye, "Ooh, care to expand?"

Lydia tapped her pencil in tandem, faster as she caught momentum, "added influences can obscure the original source material, jumping off point for secondary work."

Allison caught her meaning, "Like music remixes?"

Lydia squinted and nodded, "like with Mozart, when his mentor tried to pervert his work for personal benefit." She hesitated when there was an obvious lull that no one followed, "Salieri, I think his name was." That had not helped.

Ms. Blake stood and started pacing again, listing their example on the blackboard "Yes, but only to gain lesser recognition. To create lesser works."

Scott suggested, "Evil remixes?"

Stiles concluded, "Like Conan O'Brien!"

The class erupted with laughter.

Ms. Blake smiled, her hands waving at people to calm themselves. She sensed somehow, he was in earnest. "Pardon?"

Stiles rushed forth, "He does this skit, where you have to guess the song, but they don't have the rights to the tune. So, the band plays the song but up a key and the singer sings the lyrics just slightly off key and off topic."

Ms. Blake dismissed him and went back to the board to write. "I think we've gotten a bit off topic. We've talked about Parodies and Plagiarism. We began to talk about adaptation. There is no end to adaptations available out there, but can any outstrip their Originals?"

Stiles piped up, "Like the Lion King versus Sons of Anarchy; that is one serious showdown."

Lydia rolled her eyes. Scott scooted further down into his seat.

Ms. Blake grinned, "I have got to hear this one out."

"Well," Stiles continued, "Lion King; you got Simba - golden maned, prince to inherit the kingdom. Then his Dad is murdered by his Uncle and his driven away by guilt or something while his Uncle has everything. Then Simba has to get it together and Hakunamatata it up to make with the Nala and save pride."

Jackson snapped, his tone beyond displeased, annoyed, put out, any combination of the three "save 'The Pride'," he corrected, correctly.

Scott tried to put together, "save 'The Pride' because of having same sex parent and being raised vegetarian?"

Danny looked a bit annoyed that Scott turned to him to answer that. "Not exactly. And with Sons of Anarchy?"

Isaac looked at Danny with a look of betrayal, "please. Please, don't encourage him."

Stiles preened, "well, SoA; you have Jax - golden maned, prince to inherit the biker club, after his Dad also died but was really murdered by Hellboy. See, so you can't mess with him. After he killed Jax's Dad he married his Mom and ran the club. That drove Jax away for a year, but he came back for his kid and Tara, then they made with the "Nala" but then the NRA stole the baby and Mexicans ran the guns and Jax got it all sorted but he wasn't able to keep it cool. Cost him his kids his Mom. Tara. So, he took out Hellboy. He even tried to give up the club, but he can't, the club is the kingdom, man. The club is the kingdom. No Hakuna, No matata."

Ms. Blake watched mouth gaped. "Well," she had to take a moment to blink and take that deep breath Stiles had not for the past three minutes "by that statement you're arguing Lion King is the better adaptation of Hamlet then Sons of Anarchy?"

Stiles shrugged and plopped back into his seat, "who said anything about Hamlet?"

Allison chuckled and took her hand away from her concealed grin, "both of your examples were adaptation of Shakespeare's 'Hamlet'. Really good examples."

Ms. Blake's brows drew together in thought, "Young man, are you even in my class?"

Stiles looked around, pantomiming deep thought. "I seem to be. Right?"

Lydia glared at him until he had the decency to turn away from her, "Please. Do not look at me. We are not friends."

Scott genuinely asked, "Which is the better one then?"

Stiles whipped around to look at him "What?"

Scott looked around the room, as though since there was a class discussion going on someone might know the answer to his question, "Between Lion King and SoA?"

"Oh," Stiles shrugged indifferently, "s'what Isaac said. It's your taste. More singing mountain lions. More bloody drug cartels. Take your pick. It's an adaptation you know."

Ms. Blake came up beside him, "No, we're trying to explore that. So why don't you explain it clearly?"

Stiles jumped and grabbed his chest. "Christ, are you a witch? Did you just teleport? Would you consider investing in cowbell ornamental jewelry or something-"

Ms. Blake smiled, clearly amused but unflappable nevertheless, "you can answer the question, or you can leave."

Stiles fumbled, discomforted by her sudden nearness, however charming "Adaptation; only takes the good stuff it wants. Nala and Tara are versions of Hamlet's Ophelia. She spurs him on while making sexy eyes. Except Nala lives because it's a kid's happy cartoon and Tara gets martyred like in the play."

Scott harsh-whispered at him, "Dude, spoilers."

Stiles felt genuinely bad, "aw, sorry man. We can totally Netflix later."

Scott said, "No, I meant Hamlet. I haven't gotten that far."

The room got so still as to hear a pin drop. Ms. Blake stopped mid pace and spun around to openly stare at him in bafflement.

Stiles exhaled "Whoa" which was as close to stunned silent as you would get from him.

Isaac was moved from utter dismay, "I don't think," he stammered "you can call 'Hamlet Spoilers'. And not in the middle of your English class. In front of your English teacher."

Stiles leaned back into his chair "I-I agree with what Lydia said earlier." he dramatically mouthed the words 'Don't look at me. We are not friends'.

Ms. Blake snickered, trying to keep things light, "Okay, but how is Sons of Anarchy for example not derivative of The Warriors or say the Untouchables. Or any other organized crime movie or TV show made before."

Stiles said snidely "because it isn't."

Allison said just as snidely, "isn't it though?"

Stiles' voice lost all humor, "you really need to take that back though."

Ms. Blake came back to the board and wrote down the sentence she spoke, "So if you were the author of your life's story would you consider it derivative?"

An awkward lull settled over the classroom; a room full up with people on the cusp of rewriting their life stories.

From the way she paced, Ms. Blake acknowledged each and every insecure head in the classroom to see what they would consider, "because of the clothes you wear or the quotes you use? The music you listen to? Would you choose instead to write an adaptation, where suddenly everyone is musical or magical?"

The room was a low buzz of thoughtful nothing. With Allison's tablet tucked low against her elbow Lydia finally raised her hand with an answer, her voice lacked levity; she looked around before answering less as an apology more by way of warning.

"The outcome is always affected. The moral of the story remains but what was a lighthearted comedy, now a tragedy. It's just become influenced by the desire of an audience. Everything is subject to external forces."

Allison looked at her consideringly then sounding put off she cut in sharply "or the story can be affected by what you want to get out of it."

Scott realized it had become something of an argument and felt on the losing side, he attached onto Allison's argument "okay, maybe in your version everyone is turned into monsters, but you can still get the happy ending."

Danny answered, "Simba" tired of the pretense. He was certain they all lived fruitful and fully fleshed out three dimensional lives outside of his English Lit class, but sometimes when you're asked an opinion just give your opinion. "The answer is The Lion King I mean. In my humble opinion, Charlie Hunnam is pretty great, but vengeance is a dark enough theme already. We need Hakuna. We need Matata."

Ms. Blake started to laugh. For the time being, whatever tension there was in the room broke. "Food for thought," Ms. Blake called out before someone, surprisingly not Stiles started to hum the song rather loudly.

.

Track 13 - Sinister Kid by the Black Keys

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· {onto 6th period; Physics with Ms. Ramsey}

"Do you ever feel like your school experience is just not the same one everyone else is attending?" Danny said shaking his head.

Danny Māhealani may have walked alongside Jackson but Jackson walked someplace else altogether. Upset and unfocused, he thought the knowledge of her alive and safe would have calmed his nerves. It hadn't. Instead, it brought into focus how vividly he saw her death in his mind's eye.

"Do you ever think you have no business telling other people how to feel, Danny?" Jackson restrained himself, trying not to growl.

"That's not what I'm saying, Jackson." Danny watched the distraught way Jackson sifted through his locker contents rough enough to tear a notebook in half. Danny took hold of Jackson's hands and pulled them close together, "Alright man, I'll give you, my notes! Don't worry about it. It's not that serious." He reached over and handed Jackson the World History book he wanted.

"I'm headed to Physics, but at practice later you can tell me what's going on," Danny smiled, assuming Jackson would like the idea of getting his aggression out on the field.

However well intentioned, what cut through Jackson's distress wasn't the kind words or the soothing tone but the trickle of black blood he felt sliding from his ear down along his neck. He wiped it away before Danny noticed. When he looked back, he locked eyes on Danny with a fierceness that knocked Danny back a step.

"You know what sounds like more fun? Stabbing myself with a lacrosse stick." He slammed the locker and marched off.

While Danny watched him go, Lydia came up beside him and closed the locker gently until it locked. They shared a look of shock and kept each other company on their way to Physics.

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Track 14 - Taking Chances by Sharon Van Etten

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· {6th period, World History with Mr. Yukimura}

For World History, they had Mr. Yukimura, who happened to be laid back enough to let students trickle in minutes after the bell. Normally. During dead week, he paced from his desk to the door like a mother hen, panicked his students might not find their way in. It seemed he didn't have a prepared stance for someone to turn up early begging to bring even more people in despite having a full roster.

"Mr. McCall," and again calmer, "Scott, I appreciate your enthusiasm," he stepped back to deflect their eager begging bouncing faces, "but it's World History. The class will be here when your friend attends as an official student and we have the time to get him not only a desk, but a seat and even a textbook."

"He'll have all those soon. He just finished registering today-"

"Totally, I just crave knowledge-"

"Plus, I can share my textbook-"

"Scott," Mr. Yukimura put his books down onto his desk forcefully, which caused Stiles to jump back into the doorway and Scott to jump back, landing on Stiles' feet. Mr. Yukimura wasn't angry, he just wanted order. "I appreciate your friend's passion for learning, but he would still have to have a seat. And you can't share that. No!" he cut Stiles off when he started to argue the contrary, "you can't."

"s'fine, s'fine," Stiles shrugged, chewed the inside of his cheek and massaged at Scott's shoulders. "I'll just wait over- over- over there?" it didn't matter how far Stiles gestured along the hallway Mr. Yukimura shook his head in negation.

"He can have my seat," someone mercifully offered up.

Stiles rushed into the grabbed the girl by her shoulders and thank her profusely, "you wonderful human being. You're good people. You were raised right, you know."

"Kira, you can't do that," Mr. Yukimura groaned.

"If you give up your seat, where will you sit?" Scott stared awkwardly from his best-friend to the poor girl still trapped in his best-friend's claws (metaphorical, of course). 'Let her go!' Scott mouthed, his expression pained. Stiles slowly relinquished his hold.

Blinkingly she resettled onto her feet and regained her balance. "I hadn't thought of that." She looked away from the eyes aimed toward her, down to the desks, where hers remained unfilled and nearest to Scott's, an aisle over and row back- "I can sit over there?"

"No, this isn't musical chairs," added Mr. Yukimura. With an even greater groan he decided that was a sign to close the door and start class. As he did so he pushed Stiles toward the only empty seat left, that of Jackson Whittemore.

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Track 15 - Half Moon Run by Full Circle

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· {also 6th period, French with Ms. Morrell}

Although it had been an excuse earlier, it hadn't actually been a lie. Allison had been slacking off in Ms. Morrell's class. She assumed her background in French gave her wiggling room grades-wise, but it had caught up to her. If she brought in an extra credit paper and aced her exams next week, she could bring up her average from a struggling (C+) average into a (B). Maybe (B+) if you squint. After that, she could possibly, maybe find a way to convince her parents that her Hunter's activities weren't distracting from her scholastics. If she toed the line, then they wouldn't have her choose.

-'I've been cutting school and missing exams to help with my boyfriend's super-developmental Werewolf process. I can't study afterschool, at nights or on the weekends because I'm sneaking around solving missing-persons and hooking up. Priorities, really.'-

Argents were built of stronger metal, and she just needed to focus. At first, she thought it was a relief didn't have Scott in French as a distraction. Until hunched over her desk, onto her elbow she settled to the task of schoolwork and only schoolwork, she realized too late she didn't have a pen. If Scott were here, he'd have a pen. Stupid brain.

"God" she groaned repeatedly into her hand; who remembered to pack concealed daggers on their way to school but forgot their basic black or blue ink bic?

"Here," Isaac twisted around in his seat and handed her a pen.

Startled out of her preoccupation Allison's head snapped up and she accepted the pen with a confused grin. She had forgotten they shared 6th Period French. Unsure of how to respond, by the time she opened her mouth he had already faced forward.

Later.

There were 23 other students in the classroom, but he happened to be sat smack-dab in front of the Hunter. Without labels, still the person who 24-hours ago shot him with a magical-sedative while his leg had been clamped up in iron jaws. No, the person who 48-hours ago uncovered the first clues in weeks he might still have a pack. No, Allison a week ago knocked on a car window said hello and invited him to come along with the rest of them to go bowling.

Isaac groaned and twisted half-around again. "Do you mind, I'm trying-" at his voice she bolted upright and nearly dropped the pen from her grip. For a Hunter Allison spooked easily. "I'm trying to pay attention," he pointed toward her heavy-handed doodling out of nervousness.

"Oh," she stared down, surprised to discover she had driven scratchy markings along the margins through several pages. Without apologizing, before he could turn his attention back, she started in. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Do you have to?"

"I guess not," Allison shrugged, lifting the pen to her thoughtfully she glanced over at him. "I'm going to ask anyway. Would you have told anyone you were looking for your 'foster' family it hadn't been for last night?"

It was the sort of question that made you feel like a scab had come half undone because he had already been scratching at that same question for too long, "Wasn't planning on it-" Isaac only sort-of lied.

She wasn't buying it. After a pause, "did you think we wouldn't have helped you look?"

"Well, your sincerity is less convincing since you poisoned me while my leg was crushed in a trap and then aimed a gun at my head," he snapped. When he tried to bring up memories of what happened in the woods, things were a bit nightmarish and less vivid than they should have been. His confrontation with Allison had been in fact the least upsetting thing to happen, all things considered. In fact, if he stopped to think on it, he doubted he would have gotten out of the woods without her, never mind that trap. Not that he wasn't obsessively thinking about these things.

"Sorry, but it was a paralytic actually." Haughtiness crept into her tone, into her spine.

"Is that an apology?" Isaac smirked, he nearly snorted.

"Would you accept an apology?"

Isaac scoffed and dropped back into his chair facing forward.

"Good," Allison snapped the back of his seat with the pen.

"When it's one of your friends out there-" he turned his head and mumbled over his shoulder.

Allison hunched further over her desk "-it was all of my friends out there-" she argued.

"-well, you didn't act like it."

"Swapping silver bullets out for sedatives is acting like it," she breathed, then sat back in her seat before she added, "while you weren't exactly very quick to retract your claws." Knowing she didn't have to sit forward or raise her voice for him to hear.

Ms. Morrell reminded for the second time instead of discussing gossip with one another, they should be working on correcting their oral presentation. Their practiced silence lasted less than 30 seconds.

"Exactly how many weapons did you pack to school today, Hunter?" Isaac attempted to mutter derisively but it came off sounding silly.

To which Allison scoffed, she had more experience at mocking.

"Let me ask you a question," Isaac half-turned to which Allison sat up in her seat. "How soon did you figure me out for a Werewolf?

"Soon," With her eyes alert and her arms up, crossed almost like a shield as she twiddled the pen just under her chin, she seemed to think about it as if it were the most amusing prospect on the planet. "It didn't seem important enough to bring up. Should it have been?"

Then Allison's eyes flicked upward when the teacher walked past and the both of them jumped back but she only kept scratching the pen against the paper. Only harder than before.

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Track 16 - Bros by Wolf Alice

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· {onto 7th period, Algebra1 with Mr. Ramsey}

"You're getting along, that's great!"

Barely out of French, Stiles had pounced on Allison and Isaac.

Allison looked at Isaac and wondered if getting along well-meant passive-aggressive digs towards one another aimed around a borrowed pen. Her smile was so awkward and over exaggerated it only made Isaac uncomfortable.

"Yeah, conjugating verbs and everything," answered Isaac.

Stiles smirked at that then started in on his true purpose. "I bet you get hungry," was the worst segue ever used to invite someone to dinner to meet the folks. At first Isaac was sulky and reluctant, but Stiles was tenacious.

Allison stood between the two, trying to edge out peaceably without saying a word, but that also felt weird. Each time she opened her mouth to say something like "see you later" it felt rude.

"Come on, we need to catch up and don't you want to hang out at my house, not drugged up or breaking in this time?"

"Not the best-selling points," Isaac lightly kicked the tip of one boot against the back of the other.

"Well, I would say let's catch up at your place but you're probably up in a tree outside of Lydia's house," Stiles said after a second's consideration.

"Well, it was either that or a cave in the middle of the woods, but you'd already taken that spot," Isaac smirked.

Stiles answered with a waggling of his eyebrows at first, amused his friend actually made a quip worth acknowledging and then insisted on dinner once more. His Dad would like to meet his foster brother after all. Isaac had trouble saying no after that. Isaac had trouble saying anything after that, so he only nodded.

Meanwhile Scott had come to Allison's rescue and escorted her to her next class. After she thanked him and asked how Stiles was in class if they were managing to stay out of trouble. Scott said everything was going pretty alright, but one thing had stuck out to him was that Jackson hadn't turned up in History. She didn't like it.

"I haven't seen him around either, but Isaac and I have Ms. Ramsey's for Algebra1. You'll probably have a better chance of knowing if Jackson makes it to Econ if you get moving," she said and started to push him toward Coach's classroom just as the bell started to ring.

· {still 7th period, Economics with Coach Finstock}

"Stiles," Isaac warned, "you can't just shadow all of Scott's classes."

"Of course not," Stiles beamed, "I'll go to some of yours too, pal! Plus, I think I'll be taking Lacrosse-"

"Seriously," Allison hurried them along their way, keeping the lead by shoving Scott by the tail of his spine, "it will get the both of you in trouble."

"I am thinking of him," Stiles interceded, throwing an arm over Scott shoulders. Allison stepped back with amusement, happy to give up the load. "I'm not going to let anything happen-" he added "-anything else now that we're together."

"Exactly!" Scott grinned.

The halls held a false calm in their emptiness until a voice came booming.

"McCall, are those your dulcet tones! Because you had better be an angel of death to be haunting these hallways after the bell!"

"Coach," said Scott, worriedly. He tried calculating how quickly he could dodge into the class before crossing paths with Coach approaching from his Office at the end of the hall. He had a few decent seconds to say goodbye. It wasn't THAT big of a deal.

"After your predictable detention," Allison kissed his cheek and slipped out of sight up the stairwell backward on step at a time looking remorsefully at him.

"Why would you even say-" Scott's brow furrowed. Scott looked around to Isaac for backup, but the guy had already disappeared.

"Coach, is it?" Stiles spoke up from just out of Scott's reach, "I think you meant specters."

.

Track 17 - Fourth Dimension by LIGHTS

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· {still 7th period, Genetics/Biotech with Mr. Harris}

Unsurprisingly Mr. Harris took special care to notice when Lydia took her seat. She couldn't tell whether he was being sincere or condescending when he asked her if she needed to leave early or needed extra time, and if she did just to let him know. Although she was his prize student sometimes his sarcasm could be so vague even, he didn't recognize it.

Given Jackson vying to be the center of her attention she was grateful he had cut class again, Lydia wasn't sure she could deal with 2 big-head egomaniacs once. Harris recirculated personalized packets with the labwork of other students, names removed, to prove why they were wrong... because high school wasn't humiliating enough. It was intensive work because half of the class hardly understood the work to begin with. Lydia was excused (and exalted-ostracized) because she would have no problem correcting anyone else's work plus she never made errors.

She had hoped for something to keep her thoughts from obsessing, but classwork wasn't up to snuff. While all the 'little lambs' students went bleating off to the slaughter Lydia could easily sing-song, ~lalala junk DNA or noncoding DNA, ladeeda can transcribe into functional non-coding RNA lalaladeda~~

Unfocused her bright-eyes drifted over the blackboard to her favorite Stephen Hawkings quote that she read often and questioned never; " THE EUREKA MOMENT SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY; I wouldn't compare it to sex, but it lasts longer."

Lydia sat upright and let out a sharp gasp, the classroom took notice.

Excited, she finally had actual academic work to pursue and that Hawkings guy, oh that guy, he sure knew some things. She turned over a fresh page in her notebook and wrote across the top; "Gene Coding Ignition—(bite) infection ≠ deviation stimulate = bonds noncoding DNA..." She then began to sort through the data on Allison tablet and looked for anything that carried the earmarks of turning by way of a "Bite". If she could find the causation, then she might be able to bring about a way to reverse it.

Supernatural be damned; she was not crazy, her friends were not victims, and she would make this madness make sense. And it was going to be sooo satisfying.

· {during 7th period, Algebra1 with Mr. Ramsey}

"I recognize you. I think you're the only one who shows up at study period as often as I do," her voice wasn't small at all or soft even, but it carried a steady calm with it that had a rare timidity.

Allison looked up from hunched position, folded over the textbook and pilfered composition notebook full of Lydia's notations. She smiled up into the familiar face of a Japanese girl with the misleading body language of a frightened doe. Sure, she noticed her at the start of the year, daughter of the new World History teacher Mr. Yukimura, not to mention in PE on track where she gave everyone more than a competitive run for their money. Yes, Allison noticed everyone.

"Curse of the new kid, we're always struggling to keep up," Allison gestured to the seat across from her, a lifeline in the storm. Ms. Ramsey had everyone pair into 2's to cross-examine one another to death for the extent of the period. With her late-night dalliances there was no way Allison was prepared enough for this.

"Thanks!" she dove into the seat, dropping her bag and books around her like anchors in a storm, "I'm Kira."

Allison knew better than to say, 'I know'.

"Allison," Ms. Ramsey glared at them for socializing. "We should get started."

Kira groaned softy "ok, don't be too hard on me."

"I won't make it too painful, I promise," she started to settle in, but they were both distracted by Isaac exaggeratingly loud gagging chortle from 3 tables over. No doubt for Allison's benefit. She threw him a glare, but he didn't look up.

After a few harder questions back and forth, it seemed as though Allison had a better grasp of the work, but Kira bemoaned her situation. Allison admitted she only really got ahead because she had her best-friend's notes rely on, and at that Kira begged, "from one New Girl to another, couldn't you stay for a little while after school?"

The bell rang for the change of class. Allison felt a press of compassion and pressed for time.

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Track 18 - atTENTion by MIA

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· {in 8th period, Biology with Mr. Harris}

"I'm getting along with Allison."

Scott looked up from his textbook. He glanced up toward the desk where Harris poured all of his aggravated attention over the edge of his glasses and down at ungraded practice test papers, like he seemed to want to burn rather than to read through.

"Yeah, cool."

Stiles grinned, shuffled his entire desk over a little. Harris looked up to decipher the noise but by then everyone had their nose back into a textbook. Where Stiles had acquired a textbook, Scott wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"She used her family connections in the Sheriff's office to get the maps last night, did you know that?"

Scott nodded without looking up.

Another embarrassing scrape from the movement of desk, Scott dropped his head onto his desk.

"If she's able to get info from the Sheriff's office, do you think she'll be able to give me pointers?"

Scott looked over with a quizzical expression on his face.

"What?" Stiles defended, "as the Sheriffs' son," he said sounding haughty as he propped the book up like a blockade and hid his face behind it, "I think I've earned the privilege."

"Why are you trying to break into the Sheriff's department when you just worked to sneak out of the Sheriff's department?"

"1) 'though this be madness, yet there be method'-"

To which Scott had an even more confused expression.

"2) Read your goddamn Hamlet 3) you should probably learn how to hone your Wolfie skills and not get caught while sneaking in and out of our homes. Seriously, pre-teens have been doing that since before the dawn of Disney channel."

Scott's grin started to widen but his expression remained that of confusion.

"4) This could be quality Hunter-Werewolf bonding time, I mean come on. And finally-"

Stiles slid lower into his seat, lowering his voice, and leaned toward Scott with the intimacy of the matter.

"-5) I've got to get access to that dead body."

· {while at 8th period, Art with Ms. Ramsey}

During Art with Allison, Lydia tried to bring up Jackson as nonchalantly as possible, only it didn't matter how delicate she meant for it to be. The topic genuinely concerned Allison.

"This is the 2nd time in today I've heard his disappearance brought up," she settled down her paint brush.

"It's just that the last time I saw him," Lydia started and stopped talking. Her insistence at stabbing at the canvas said a lot more than her words could.

"Was he doing that bad?"

"Worse," Lydia tried to keep her face straight but the tightness of her expression said a lot. When the bell rang, she dropped her supplies and headed toward the door without as much as making eye contact.

"I haven't seen him since English, Lydia. I'm sorry," Allison called after her but Lydia wouldn't slow. "I can go look for him," Allison offered but Lydia attempted to move around her and in doing so bumped into Isaac hard enough that he doubled back.

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Track 19 - She's Hearing Voices by Bloc Party

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· {9th period, Going to PE (Girls) with Coach Helisek}

"It's alright," Allison assured Isaac, "we have PE next. I'll keep an eye on her there."

Only it never turned out that way. Lydia ditched PE and went to the library to get some privacy. Not to her usual nest of a table but further up into the balcony, into the shelves, into a nook and found a new place to disappear into. She dropped her bag onto the desk and pulled out a notebook with equations that were lyrical in formation. She whipped out Allison's tablet and slid through the bestiary and with the other hand pulled out her iPhone to type up her brainstorming. If she couldn't hunt or track down her subject than she intended to find another means of working things out, permanently.

Determined to help her friend, Allison crept through the locker room only to chance upon an extremely aggressive Jackson with a towel wrapped around his waist instead.

"You shouldn't be here," Jackson's words were a warning but sounded like a threat.

Allison reached into reached into her purse and threaded her fingers through the rings of a Chinese dagger. Threatening tones weren't just suggestions in her playbook.

"You're right and I'm sorry. I just came to see if my friend is okay. Jackson-" he didn't like the sound of his name coming from her voice, but she continued anyway, "are you okay?"

The steam of the hot water flooded the showers in a heavy steam and compromised Allison's field of vision, but the heat and the burning was necessary for Jackson to keep the change in check. And when he turned toward Allison at the sound of her voice and walked from the showers to the lockers the cooling air took away the extreme temperature that had kept him controlled.

"Why're you keeping tabs on me Allison?" he drew slowly toward her, "Shouldn't you be watching out for your idiot-heroic boyfriend off in detention somewhere?" he said snidely.

It wasn't that his barbs were bitter or correct or even that she didn't like someone mocking her boyfriend. What bothered her most was Jackson's awareness of an events he hadn't been anywhere near when they happened.

"Jackson," she snapped before she could think not to, the proximity made her tense. She brought the dagger to her side, it kept her calm, "you don't have to get defensive."

"Alright then," he responded, his eyes turned gold and slit when he blinked, and his hand came up as if to stroke her face. The tops of his fingers were like fat claws, they looked gnarled liked old bones, "then offensive it is!"

Allison shoved the heel of her boot into his barefoot, with one hand knocked back the wrist of by her face and with the other shoved him back holding the dagger to his throat. He stumbled backward till he fell to the floor, and she knelt over him, her knee into his sternum. He gasped for air and gripped at the tiles beneath him. When he blinked up at her in shock, his eyes returned to blue.

"Jackson?" she eased back. He wheezed something that sounded like an apology until the sense of impending danger cut off their exchange.

Allison rolled off only seconds before Isaac intervened and pulled Jackson up from the floor like a rag doll and flung him hard against the lockers, crushing the doors inwards. Allison screamed for Isaac to stop before Jackson's change rose from within him. She had only heard Isaac roar once in the open field but in the echoing confines of the locker room ran chills through her. As they grappled for one another Allison tried again to warn Isaac when she saw Jackson's claws extend, but he couldn't hear her over all the noise of rending metal and growls. Then everything went scarily still as Isaac collapsed to the floor as he felt a familiar paralysis set in. It felt twice as strong but lasted half as long.

· {9th period (cancelled), Comprehensive Reading/Writing with Ms. Blake}

Scott and Stiles' cell phones went off simultaneously with a text from Lydia. It seemed despite her unsociable tendencies she demanded their presence. Mrs. Blake had (yet again) cancelled English and Scott thought he would never be able to make up his 2nd English credit. But hanging out on the lacrosse field with his best-friend and tossing around the ball (before the Coach caught them and reminded them about their detention) was a good enough trade.

They never got a chance to reply, because the sound of Isaac's roar reached Stiles' ears and Scott sensed Allison's distress. After that, Lydia's text went unanswered.

.

When the steam cleared and staff arrived in the locker room, the mess came across as though Isaac and Jackson had a jealous fight over Allison. Because of that the 3 of them also received detention.

"How do you even get detention when you're not a student here?" Isaac muttered into Stiles' ear from the line as they turned in their cell phones at the library door. Detention was just as strict as Ms. Blake it would seem.

"Talent," Stiles dropped his into the box Mr. Harris shoved into the teacher's ribs.

Allison tried to go through the messages on her phone as quickly as possible, but Mr. Harris' face warned that he would only give her a 2nd day if she continued. She made a meek noise of dismay as she dropped it into the box and hurried after Scott.

Jackson walked in last, his hair still wet and his face stone set in disquiet.

"The sooner we begin, the sooner it will end Mr. Whittemore, don't you worry," he assured Jackson with a pat on his back. Jackson tensed up at being touched but didn't respond. He also didn't hand in a phone.

When he sat down, Stiles quickly switched seats to sit beside Jackson.

"Hey, compadre," Stiles started in when he edged his chair nearer, "not sure if you remember me from elementary school but I'm going to make sure you remember me-" he grinned and let his canines extend into fangs "- if you put your hands on one of my friends again."

"Stiles!" Scott quietly called for him to stop from a table away.

"No talking!" Mr. Harris voice boomed with exasperation as he groaned and left toward a stock room.

"Stiles, right. Right," Jackson smirked and eased back into his chair. He barely noticed the fangs, "I remember you, hiding in your little sandbox waiting for McCall to fight your fights and crying to your cop Dad. I bet you still do that, cry to your Dad."

"Yeah, you still think you're something big and flashy, but you were unstable then and you're unstable now-"

"You don't know what you're getting into," Jackson warned Stiles.

"Maybe not, but do you?" Stiles backed off and he watched wide-eyed at the sight of Jackson's hands scaling over and his fingers disjointing, extending into claws.

.

Track 20 - Under The Earth by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

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{Sunset – 2.1 miles away - Martin's House, Aires East}

Time sped faster forward from when school let out while Lydia paced her room unhappily and watched the sun dip under the skyline.

With their equally invested interests in the bestiary, it didn't seem likely for them to stand her up without calling or texting. At least, not without good reason, the idiots. It gave Lydia time to analyze certain unsettled feelings, which only led to her feeling the need to take another Ibuprofen. She sat with her head in her hands and waited, trying desperately not to look at the time.

At the end of her full-size bed, among scattered notes of random observations and a tourist map she picked up at a gas station on the way home, she used a comforter to prop up the tablet beside her Chem. book. After so many scribbled notes over time her steady handwriting became incrementally gibberish. As she struggled to stay awake for her friends to arrive, exhaustion caught up with her. Heavy restful sleep blew her over onto her hill of paperwork, until a somewhere far off a thread cut her off from the universe. Lydia felt it snap through her soul. The force of the violent blowback and the sight of it, the sense of every inch of it burst from her as a scream.

---

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