were (you) Chapter 13: sorry, a teen wolf fanfic

Track 01 - A Wolf at the Door. (It Girl. Rag Doll.) by Radiohead

{Friday: Pre-Dawn - Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Lobby – City Central, BH. CA}

"Let me get this straight, you saw a coyote, but you are certain it wasn't a coyote, so it was an 'animal of interest'?" Sheriff Stilinski rubbed his temple, hoping he could find a pressure point that would blot out the nonsense while syncing up all the random data thrown his way in the last 72 hours.

"I wouldn't exactly phrase it that way," Deputy Parrish huffed in embarrassment, "but I'm just telling you what I saw." Recounting everything on his patrol, Parrish felt a need to meet the Sheriff directly and not the Station. Especially while everything was fresh in mind.

"The 'volunteers' might have seen something or at least they seem to be searching for something, but I hope they don't find it, considering…" he let the sentence hang there. He hadn't meant to be ominous but lately all paths of endless speculation lead back to the Argents. "That animal was located exactly where we expected it to be on the investigation board, only this wasn't some unhinged homicidal Monster." He envisioned the moment in the rain, "this thing came right up to me, Chief, like it knew what I was saying."

"It came to you?" the Sheriff paid closer attention.

Parrish nodded, "no less than a foot. It was intelligent, considerate and it understood exactly what I said."

"So, you're thinking we're possibly talking about a second animal?" he came closer and carried a conspirator's tone.

"Has to be," Parrish's brow creased, "this was close to the same location, but this was different than what you have on record; this was smaller, it was young too, brightly colored, and spry. Definitely a coyote."

"But everything we've had documented before said 'wolf'."

"Exactly," the Deputy nodded emphatically.

"That means at least 2 animals," said the Sheriff with a nod and gave it some thought. "Should we be expecting more?"

Then they stayed quiet and close to one another in the busy hospital hallway. Parrish had to ask, not because he felt like it was his place, but because he wanted to know where he stood with things.

"Chief? If you aren't interested in pursuing your investigation- if you don't want to rock the boat," Parrish paused when Sheriff Stilinski gave him a pointed look. It was the sort of look he recognized when he had hit on a point that the Sheriff hadn't considered yet. Parrish continued, giving him time to adjust, "You've got your son back. You have every reason in the world to consider this closed. Not just closed but resolved."

"No," it looked like the Sheriff hurt to admit it, "this isn't resolved. I got into this to figure out why there were attacks. Why there are murders, and don't get me wrong I am grateful my son is alive. Don't ever mistake that," the Parrish nodded to the conviction in the Sheriff's tone, but the Stilinski only meant to reprimand himself. "But that doesn't leave Claudia any less dead. That doesn't make the attacks un-happen. That doesn't make the savaged lives of now 7 people go unexplained."

"Sir," was the only response Parrish could muster. It was somewhere between a salute and a question.

"Ah, don't do that," Stilinski grinned. He came back to himself, more focused, "Parrish? What are you doing here at the hospital and not at your post?"

"Right," Parrish's eyes lit with amusement, "this is a different matter of some delicacy. Another investigation you tend to like to deal with privately."

"What's that?"

"I brought someone in for impersonating an officer and I thought you would like to reprimand them personally," the Deputy turned and with a gesture encouraged the Sheriff to follow him toward the ICU waiting room.

"Deputy," he warned, "is now the time for special treatment? You can make them wait it out in the cell at the Station until the lights come on like the rest of the trouble-makers." Despite what he said, his feet lead him into the waiting area where Natalie Martin sat, chin propped up on her hand leaning on a tiny coffee table, and despite the slumped discomfort, she managed to fall asleep.

"If you say so, Sir," Deputy Parrish whispered smirking beside him.

The Sheriff glared his annoyance at his subordinate's cockiness, "Oh, shut up. Tell me again, what exactly did she do?"

Parrish didn't bother to pretend he wasn't amused, "she planted a Mars light on the top of her car for traffic to move."

The Sheriff stared blankly for a moment, swore then laughed.

"Sheriff?" said Natalie groggily from across the room, while she unraveled herself.

"Get out of here," the Sheriff lightly shoved Parrish out of the doorway, "and don't think you're not going to report in-full later."

"As soon as things let up here sir," Deputy Parrish added with all seriousness while he stepped away, "I'll be by the house to report."

Track 02 - Monster Hospital (Acoustic) by Metric

{Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Emergency Room}

It had taken every inch of bravery Kira had left in her person, her shell-shocked person to drag herself to the Intensive Care Unit. It helped that she was assured Jackson was unconscious. It didn't help that she felt an insurmountable amount of guilt that he was still unconscious.

She convinced herself that once she set eyes on him, then he wouldn't be in danger. Since the worst of his injuries had been her responsibility, then if she willed him to be well, then he would be. But as she inched along the hall, she thought it might have been her head injury that validated that reasoning. Regardless, she knew she had to lay eyes on him. There had to be an explanation to why they barely survived being struck down by God on the bridge. Alright, maybe there hadn't been Godly vengeance involved, but there was some very striking activity and since the only witness to what had happened lay 2 corridors down, it was only fair that security leave the path open for her.

By the time she stood in front of Jackson's room the biggest obstruction became her fear. Yes, 2 people were on the bridge, but her excuse for not understanding was a concussion. In the time since the library her recollection of events remained foggy at best...

Afterschool, while she waited alone at a desk towards the furthest wall from the entry doors, there was a commotion across the library. As she stood up to try to see what was happening Jackson rushed towards her from around the corner at breakneck speed, he warned her of danger seconds before there were screams and loud crashing from down the aisle. Alarms went off. The lights went out and it seemed he had rescued her but when they reached the locked back exit, she'd gotten halfway through suggesting they turn back when he tore through it like a knife through warm butter. So felt relieved at their escape so then it took a moment to register she should be afraid, up till he clamped a deformed hand around her wrist and yanked her along. His fingers were elongated and discolored, his face looked rotten and while hissing sounds came from his mouth. Kira started to scream but a blow to the solar plexus cut off any sound and they were gone.

They were in his Porsche, speeding along the road before she could breathe again, when her thoughts were clear again and she had been too frightened to look at Jackson directly. She cried softly and begged for Jackson to let her go. When he faced her, his slitted eyes terrified her, and a shudder ran through her. He brought his claws to scratch at her but where they connected static electricity rose and he backed off. In an act of desperation, he tied her hands with laces left over from his lacrosse stick. As he did so, Kira tried to keep in his line of sight but there was a disconnect. He reacted to her touch, but not to her voice, not to her pleas or her tears. Kira dropped her head to the dashboard and cried harder for a moment. Jackson wasn't angry, he wasn't even being mean, he didn't even seem to have an agenda, he simply functioned and that frightened her more.

"Jackson, if you don't tell me where you're going-" her tone of voice was unconvincing.

"Jackson, tell me where you're going-" that got her nowhere.

"Jackson, if you don't stop something bad will happen," it wasn't a threat, it was a gut instinct.

In the walls of the hospital, she didn't feel any safer than she had in the car, but for different reasons. In the car she felt like someone hurt her and used Jackson to do it. In the hospital she felt like she had hurt Jackson and was used to do it. Maybe if he woke up, they could figure out why. Maybe she could then make the guilt go away because she had no more control over what happened on the bridge than he did over what happened in the car.

Plausibly, the worst things that could happen, was that she would go to his room and find him beyond recognition. It didn't matter how much her Dad soothed her, nothing would make that okay. As she neared and touched the curtains, she feared her nearness would make things worse. She placed her hand on the window, it was as near as she could bring herself for a first attempt and maybe next time she would get as far as the doorknob, she thought bravely, when the choice was taken from her as the curtains were yanked apart by Lydia Martin, the second scariest confrontation she could imagine right then.

Track 03 - Sweetest Tongue Has Sharpest Tooth (read) by Sarah Patterson

{Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Intensive Care Unit}

As she passed the sliding doorway, clicked closed behind her and scrutinized Kira from top to bottom. Lydia was accustomed to being where she wasn't supposed to be, doing things she wasn't meant to being doing in the most unconventional times. But she was unaccustomed to being caught in the act and refused to be intimidated by a person wearing a medical bracelet that read 'FALL RISK'. She paused to see if Kira had something relevant to say, even though she reeked of 'Freshman Fresh Meat' syndrome and wasn't likely to be in Jackson's circle of friends.

After a moment passed, Lydia looked down her nose at Kira and walked around her, hoping to avoid a conversation entirely. She would not be drawn in by yelling or the Bambi-eyed tactics. Unlike Lydia, Kira hadn't observed whether she was a patient or a visitor. She hadn't acknowledged her smoke-stained hair, the over-sized bomber jacket that the Sheriff's department provided that covered her tattered clothes. None of that clocked on Kira's radar. The only thing Kira noticed was Lydia Martin's calculated calm.

"You're you?" Kira caught up just as she rounded the corner toward the elevator, just as Lydia had assumed she had gotten away safely.

Lydia didn't think they were off to a particularly good start.

"I mean," Kira was flustered and tried again in a less desperate tone, "I know you, but who are you?"

Lydia didn't think this wasteful dialogue in a place where they weren't meant to be would lead to anything good.

"Obviously, leaving," Lydia kept her chin up, her tone superior but jabbed more adamantly at the elevator button, "and what do they call you?"

"Kira," she breathed deeply and smiled. "I'm Kira Yukimura." They waited side by side in silence for a long moment, "Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

"It is a closed ward," Lydia reminded, hoping that would indicate the end of the conversation when the elevator doors opened. She made it obvious from her briskness and how firmly she pressed the 'Door Closed' button that these things were not up for negotiation.

After hopping into the elevator, Kira considered this, but then continued, "I mean you said 'run'" she put her hands up in air quotes. Lydia turned to face her at that. It confused her when people talked about her as if they were more of an authority than she was which was happening too much of late. "I didn't know what it meant at the time".

Kira turned to face Lydia and her face fixed, her voice incredibly quiet as if she expected to be overheard in their empty elevator, "I didn't know from what, or from whom? Then he was there. Now you're here-" the doors opened.

Lydia glared at her for a brief moment then marched off, she really didn't like when people knew more about her friends than her either. Through the reflection of the patient's room windows she could see the girl, Kira, followed, even through the bustle of wandering staff. She stopped on the other side of the Nurses' station, far enough on the safe side of security but not far enough from where people could overhear. Kira took that as a sign to keep a little distance.

"-am I supposed to run from you?" she asked looking as thoroughly confused as Lydia felt.

"Do you even know me?" Lydia wanted to be angry, she even wanted to sound angry but more than that she wanted an answer. They had no other classes together aside from PE and Lunch, plus everyone knew her as 'Queen of the BHHS' or the 'Smartest at BHHS'. This question didn't have that feel to it.

"Do I?" Kira squinted at her to decern a secret meaning.

"Have we met before?" Lydia tried a different tactic; she had a scary feeling it would work.

"Almost 3 weeks ago, I know it was you," Kira answered quietly but looked uncertain. Lydia said nothing, clenched her jaw and paid close attention. "In the woods behind my home. You said I wouldn't be safe here. You told me to 'Run'."

As she calculated, Lydia realized that was during her fugue state. She felt the need to sit and dropped onto a space on a bench against the wall. She looked on, miserable with the weight of her own suspicion.

"Why?" she asked through her hand as she covered her mouth in shock.

"What 'why'?" Kira said in surprise of Lydia's surprise. She had just begun to feel relief at Lydia's interest only to feel shot down by doubt. It seemed the few people who might offer her understanding kept being the ones shutting her out. "I don't understand."

"Why would I come to you?" Lydia shook her head as her bright eyes went unfocused and she stared off in thought. It reoccurred to her that Beacon Hills attracted special types and oddities, which brought with it new challenges. With her disastrous luck, she either dated them or stumbled onto them. "Kira, is there something important about you?"

Kira cringed and stepped backward as Lydia came at her, ignoring the human traffic.

"There is." At the realization Lydia's tiredness washed away replaced by a bone-driven provocation, "as long as there is something important about you, Kira, then there will always be a reason to run."

Then she backpedaled. From the fear on Kira's face, she realized she had overstepped. She wiped at her face as she restrained her emotions, she felt overwhelmed because it seemed every time, she unearthed answers instead she uncovered a dozen more questions. They were each in a blameless predicament, Scott was right about that, but it didn't make them innocent, which she had such trouble reconciling. Lydia got aggravated with herself for getting aggravated with Kira. She recalled storming off on Scott and about Stiles. She wavered a little, swayed back and forth as if to pace but without moving her feet.

"Should I just do that? Is that safest? Leave? Whatever you tell me I'll listen and I'll definitely-" Kira realized this wasn't the waif of a girl that wandered onto her property weeks earlier, instead she pressed for answers from this shrewd person before her. And so, Kira babbled on. And on.

"Lydia, I am Lydia Martin," she cut in. Kira nodded stiffly in acknowledgment, "You don't even really know who I am, but you'd do what I tell you?" She bore down on Kira with her voice lowered as if to test their closeness.

"But you knew what would happen before it would happen, like you're psychic," her breath quickened, and she stood her ground.

"Psychic?" Lydia scoffed, "I'm something but I'm not psychic."

"What are you?" Her eyes darted around memorizing Lydia's face searching for a chink in her armor. In fear of her moving away again Kira reached for Lydia's arm, then bypassed the fleece-encased limb to touch her hand, just a faint tap between the thumb and the forefinger.

At contact electrical power throughout the ward flickered, followed by the hum of the generators stopping. When the lights returned, they were brighter meaning that full power had been restored throughout Beacons Hills Memorial Hospital. Throughout the County power eked from the hospital outward, with their physical contact as its source. Murmurs grew outside as neighborhood streets slowly restored their power.

Together they watched the way people behaved around them, startled with alarm and then elation. The officers in the lobby rushed out to facilitate the needs of the locals. Staff rushed to task, the efforts of people doubled and tripled the shifts, fueled by the access of means to do good.

Lydia took particular note at the way Kira's hand glowed from their contact, not brightly but noticeably. Electrical streams, like strands caught in an invisible breeze spread across Kira's palm until they faded along against the veins on the cup of her overturned clean hand touching Lydia's soot covered ones.

The most shocking thing of all, Kira noticed, was that Lydia hadn't seemed remotely shocked. After the light returned to their humming dim, Kira let out a breath. When Lydia withdrew her hand, it felt a little like static electricity rolled along the surface of her skin and it refused to let up no matter how she rubbed at it.

Finally, she answered Kira's spot-on question.

"What am I? Important," Lydia shook her head and smirked at the irony of this moment.

Kira stepped back and hugged her arms around herself. She kept Lydia in perfect view, but she needed the Nurses' station to lean against. Clarity came like lightning; she felt powerful but an uncertainty of what to do with it. It seemed from Lydia's expression Kira wasn't the only one that felt that way.

Maybe Kira could passably deny her power for a little longer, hold on a little e bit to this fear but for Lydia there was no more denying it, she felt empowered; Lydia understood she affected change. In fact, it was bigger than that; she affected changes in others. She had become some sort of supernatural catalyst. Next step, she intended to understand how to harness that ability.

"Kira," she said firmly and shoved her hands into the depths of her oversized coat, "Two things. Number one; remember the only good advice you'll ever learn from any kid's book." She paused for emphasis and neared Kira before whispering, "Never trust a stranger you meet in the woods."

Kira shuddered as Lydia's brows rose slightly with serious implication, she seemed amused even, "and the Number Two thing."

"What's number two?" Kira let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding onto.

"When you are in the woods, animals will chase you," Lydia said nearly menacingly.

"Why would they chase?" Kira caught on quickly Lydia meant nothing to do with animals. She remembered Jackson upstairs, his face deformed, his finger gnarled around her wrists. She thought about him begging her on the bridge, she wondered if she should tell Lydia about it. She added pathetically, "I haven't done anything."

"It doesn't matter," shrugged Lydia. "It's the natural order."

After a moment's hesitation Kira assumed the worst, "it's not natural to run from that..." she pointed upward, toward the floor above.

"Jackson." Lydia snapped. She withdrew and rubbed her forehead from stress, "Jackson's not a 'that'." She glanced up in annoyance, she'd followed Kira's gesture except when she thought of Jackson lying in a bed above them, it was an image of him attached to a half-dozen machines, frozen in a prone state, neither dead nor healing. She glanced down towards Kira who just seemingly used her to light up the world. "Maybe he should have 'run' from you instead? Maybe he wouldn't have been cooked inside out?" she added nastily.

"He came..." Kira's voice cracked but she persevered. Lydia might not have been nice about it, but she was the only one giving her answers. "He came to me?"

Lydia looked at her intently, and then pursed her lips in thought. "I think he did," she conceded thoughtfully, "I think instead of running he came to you for help."

"Help?" Kira's voice came just shy of laughing in disbelief, "I could have killed him." What Kira couldn't understand was Lydia saw variables. Whatever had been in store for Kira earlier that evening, Jackson being fried on the bridge was by far the better option for her. Lydia knew it. Jackson knew it. Regrettably, the Kanima's Master knew it.

"Run, Stay. The outcome of these consequences are incalculable," Lydia smiled sadly as she turned to walk away. "But whatever you do Kira, don't do it alone. Find someone, one person who will believe your truth and don't leave their side."

"You believe me," Kira called out to her, desperate to not be left behind and Lydia hesitated.

"I meant someone you can trust," she replied passed out through the hospital's double-doors.

Track 04 - My Favorite Game by The Cardigans

{Back Outside – Tony's 24 Diner, Parking Lot}

"Hey!" Stiles skidded to a halt in Kate's path. "Lend me your SUV." It was certainly not a question, so she quirked an eyebrow at his arrogance.

She gave it a thought and acknowledged that the kids needed to get home, she needed to get home without the kids tagging along and they certainly needed to get home without her.

"l promise I'll get it back to you tomorrow, Auntie Kate, but you said to the Sheriff," he grinned, "you know my Dad, that you'd get us back safe. And leaving us stranded at a Diner isn't exactly what I would call-" he let the sentence hang and put his hand out instead, wiggling his fingers impatiently for her to deposit keys into them.

"Is this your way of telling me you don't need an escort?" she smacked them into his hand.

"This is my way of doing you a favor. You don't want to be trapped in a confined space with us," his grin turned canine, "teenage boys can be rambunctious."

Not far off, Isaac was on edge and uncomfortable with Stiles' sudden appearance. Stiles had made a bee-line for Kate the moment he left the Diner as if he had an agenda. Not that Stiles didn't always have an agenda in the back of his mind, but Isaac felt unnerved to have Stiles displace him in Kate's presence. Isaac barely had a chance to step out of the shadows and onto the curb unnoticed.

"I think you're right," Kate rolled her shoulder, stretching out a kink as she turned to half-face where Allison and Scott stood curbside. They watched her, uneasily waiting for their sign to part and leave. Kate didn't want the responsibility of seeing them home. The fact is she'd had enough of seeing them for the night.

The movements of patrons passing through their line of sight like threads moving and stitching through seams reminded them that real life pressed in around them, sewing closed their time shared.

"Your folks are at the hospital. Head straight there, no joy rides or they'll know," she warned in a maternal way.

Stiles shrugged and headed off eagerly, then spun back in a dramatic flair, "Hey, can I just say one last thing." Again, not a question but it was obvious it was a thing he wondered about, and it ate at him, this thing only she could answer for him.

"You said you loved him," his face went hard and distant the way it did when he talked about Derek, "Why aren't you sad?" He stepped closer to her with each word. The others had played at politeness, but one-on-one, Stiles had no problem playing a challenger and he didn't care if he lost.

With a head tilt, Kate led the way around a container truck. She imagined it was a better place for their conversation, not because of privacy but because of bystanders. Stiles moved readily beside her, the others edged nearer along but not quite on top of each other as they had been in the diner-booth.

"-because my Derek died over 16 years ago," she continued a sentiment she hadn't started aloud, but Stiles shook off her handhold and it was a sign he wanted answers sooner than later. "He wasn't some savior to me. He was pretty great. Competitive, smart-ass. I-I don't hero worship him or see him as some father figure. I saw him as a kid who had a chance of coming out from behind his mother's skirt when shit hit the fan. I saw him as kid who would grow out of validating his bad choices by blaming his angst, but he just grew to validate more bad choices by blaming man-pain. You think he kept you guys together out of some compassion, I think he collected mirrors so he would never have to grow up. I think he did you a disservice. He shouldn't have collected lost boys when he should have called family services. If I met him today, just ran into him, I wouldn't recognize him. My Derek was hopeful. This Derek sounds-"

"If you say one more thing!" growled Stiles, his voice began to turn menacing without raising his tone, "You didn't know him. You don't know how he would sacrifice for us, how he cared, how hard he had it being cut off-"

"You're right," her mouth lifted at the corner, not a smirk but something not quite sad either. Her eyes were holding something back because her heartbeat with the beat of someone who felt anxiety. "I don't. I was just going to say that this Derek sounds sad. He sounded sad. I'm sorry for your loss, Stiles, I really am, but you're going to have to find a way to deal with it. And Stiles, there's already a formal revenge claim rolling through Beacon Hills. I won't tolerate a second. Don't do that in his name. Derek wouldn't want that for you."

"My Derek or your Derek?" Stiles twirled the keys in his hand as a gesture of dismissal.

"You know the answer to that," she shrugged and walked off.

Track 05 - Tether by CHVRCHES

After Kate left the shadow of the truck, Scott made certain to let his presence weigh in. He stood off by a few of the family vehicles, but he heard parts of their conversation. He hadn't meant to, and he said as much. Stiles sighed under the weight of it because these confessions after confessions weren't as unburdening as they were designed to be.

"Did you see anything when you were in the house?" Scott said after Stiles leaned on the car beside him. Stiles looked toward him, confusion read clear on his face.

"What do you mean?" to Stiles what happened at the Hale House felt like a million years ago.

"I mean I asked Allison, she told me about the type of Wolfsbane used," Scott started and finally piqued Stiles' interest, ''Trailing White Monkshood, it's a type that can make you hallucinate. She said if you breathed enough of it in, it could make you go nuts."

Stiles tried to remember his experience. He remembered the clarity with which he experienced the nightmare, his recurring one, and the outcome he felt had changed him.

"Do you think you went nuts?" Stiles shrugged maintaining the semblance of ambivalence.

"A little," Scott admitted, remembering his own hallucinations. "I dreamt about letting go, not just about letting you go off the ledge-"

"Scott," Stiles warned as his back went ramrod straight. The nearness to his phenomenon was bone-chilling. He half-turned to face Scott further, but only moved wrap an arm against himself. He wanted to feel for the claw marks that Scott had left from his earlier handhold. He wanted to see if his brother's grip was still there.

"-but letting go of everything." Scott turned toward Stiles as well. His voice was concentrated low although their nearness made it easy to hear. "Of everyone I loved, everything I felt, every experience I ever had. But I stopped because I didn't want to let go of you again."

"You didn't let go of me the first time, Scotty. I made you," Stiles took his hand away from the marks and placed it on Scott's shoulder instead. He felt as though he could transfer that sense of sureness through touch of finger marks. He didn't use claws, but he dug his hand in.

"I don't see it that way," Scott smiled sadly, "I think the dream told me that for the past 6 years, everything I've been doing I don't hold on to because I'm afraid I'd have to let go again."

"Jesus, Scott I'm sorry!" groaned Stiles.

"No! Man, no that's not what I'm saying," Scott gripped him by the shoulder opposite. They made a circle of security. "What happened that day wasn't our fault, don't you get that? We've been feeling sorry for things that weren't in our control. And you're right, there were things afterward that were in our control. When I let you go, I should have let you go all the way and stopped using you as an excuse to push everyone else away, too. It wasn't fair, I guess. And I'm sorry."

"It's all good," Stiles shrugged. He grinned, too tired to stand properly, and pulled Scott into a half hug. "That is one weird thing to apologize for though."

Track 06 - Golden Skans by Klaxons

"I'll trade you the keys to the kingdom for magic beans," said Isaac tossing Stiles the Zippo case as he neared them.

Stiles snatched it from the air. He turned it over in his hand and after recognizing the Triskele symbol he looked to Isaac with an expression of heated interest.

"What is this supposed to mean?" Stiles confronted Isaac.

"It's not actually a lighter," Isaac explained. The three stood close together in a conspirator's space.

Stiles shook it hard enough to make a rattling sound, "obviously."

"It belonged to Peter Hale, Derek's Uncle," added Isaac.

"Who said that? Kate?" asked Scott in mistrust to which Stiles glanced toward him with a brow raised in appreciation of Scott's keen mind-reading technique.

"It has Derek's claws inside," Isaac pointed at it, his hand a little shaky, "and that's why I agreed to talk to Kate. I asked her for proof of Derek's death. Now, can I get the keys to the SUV?"

In a numb motion Stiles handed over the keys while he stared at the Zippo in alarm, Scott stared at in its confusion. When Isaac started the SUV, Stiles pocketed the Zippo and Scott wondered aloud why any of this would be okay with them.

"Werewolves' claws can be used to share memories," Stiles explained, "even after death" he opened the back of the SUV for Scott and climbed in after him. "The problem here is proving that these are Derek's."

"Is there a way to do that?" Scott asked while he watched Stiles flip open the top of the hollowed out lighter.

Isaac kept the SUV steady as he drove to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He watched through the rearview mirror as Stiles poured the claws out onto his palm. They fluttered like falling leaves from a tree in autumn.

"We need an Alpha for that," Isaac said from the front seat, he tried to watch but his eye kept darting to the road.

"Or possibly an emissary," Stiles continued to stare at them from several different angles as if he could discover a new meaning in their color and shape. "Anyone attuned to a level of the universe normal people can't hear."

"But not us?" Scott added uncertainly.

Something in that statement snapped Stiles out of his curiosity. He poured the claws back into the gold-plated container and snapped it closed.

"Nope," he leaned back into his seat. He stared at Isaac through the mirror and answered "not us. We can't know if it's Derek's without help. So, we're back at square one."

"Can't we just say square two?" said Isaac with annoyance thick in his tone. "At least my solution wasn't camping cluelessly outside my Alpha's childhood home while he was outside getting mercked."

Violently Stiles launched himself at the driver's seat and Scott threw himself in his path knocking them both to ricochet against the passenger side seat to land in the back seat once more. Isaac swerved when he turned the wheel as he dodged Stiles' assault.

"We don't even know if it is his body!" Stiles shouted while Scott held him down. "We just know a Hunter took a Werewolf's claws!"

"How long are you going to fight it, Stiles?" Isaac grumbled with his chin tucked in. He took a long pause and sniffed before he continued. "Derek would have found us by now. You know it! I know it!"

Despite his want to argue Stiles bit his lip and rocked back into his seat, he crossed and re-crossed his feet. He moved as if squirming and fidgeting would afford the blood circulation that would create answers his brain had yet to invent.

"So, you just find someone who can understand if the claws are genuine… but the lighter, that is?" Scott tried to follow along.

"Yes," Stiles and Isaac said in unison.

Stiles gave Isaac a look in the mirror. It wasn't an apology exactly; it was more like a shrug of 'let's deal with this later.' Isaac rolled his eyes and kept along the road, they would be at the hospital in another minute or so if it hadn't been for traffic, but they could make good use of the time. Isaac was relieved at least Stiles was talking.

The first of which, despite his anger Stiles had a lot to work through that he wasn't articulating, and between pack and family he needed to find a way to deal. If tantrums were the how, then Isaac could accept that. For a little while, anyway.

Secondarily, Stiles could easily broach subjects Isaac had wanted to discuss with Scott for weeks but couldn't manage. Stiles might not know how to bond one relation to the other, but he was doing a hell of a job on Isaac's behalf.

"The symbol here," Stiles turned the lighter over and offered it to Scott for studying.

"This is supposed to mean?" Scott tried to remember as he ran his finger along the curve an embossment of a Celtic symbol; 3 interlocking spirals.

"Lots of things," started Isaac, "mother, father child; or alpha, beta, omega."

Stiles nodded along and tacked on the end "but to Derek it meant something more, something at the core of the Hale clan's teachings. He had it tattooed on his back as a way to keep it always with him, to always carry that burden."

"So, even if it doesn't belong to Derek's Uncle there is no doubt it belongs to someone in the Hale family?" Scott suggested. Isaac and Stiles hadn't considered the idea, but they nodded in agreement. "Then we know Kate doesn't always lie. That's something at least."

"Yeah, but I bet if you asked her how she knew where to find us tonight you wouldn't get a straight answer," Isaac reminded.

"Never mind her. We've got to find someone to figure out if the claws are his? Someone who can tell us what they say? Someone we can trust," Stiles shoved the lighter into his jean jacket pocket.

"Well, that sounds easy," Scott scoffed mildly.

Track 07 - Crystal Ball by Grimes

{Dawn - Martin's House, Aires East}

Shower water replaced the rain, beating a tandem down on her head. Lydia rotated her neck, feeling the lines of liquid create paths along her skin; her senses began to fully come back from the poison that earlier permeated them. Despite how she washed away the ache of the day the spot where Kira touched, that place between her thumb and forefinger stayed a pinpoint of virtual buzz. It didn't feel good or bad. It just buzzed. Just like the idea that Kira carried with her parts of Lydia's missing time, another pinpoint that didn't resolve anything. Another thing she couldn't decide whether she felt good or bad about.

Before she had noticed the water had gone cold and the numbness of her hand compared little to the numbness she felt all over. She watched herself in the mirror analytically as she dressed. While there was no marking where Kira touched, bruises from crawling across the collapsed basement floor were light, scrapes from the woodland pursuit already lifted from her fair skin and the garish scar on her left hip stitched to within an inch of suspicion and read a warning; 'here is one tough cookie.' She covered up artfully under Lounging Pajamas by Betsey Johnson, black satin with pink lace detailing and dove under the cocoon of her bedcovers, she felt her protection complete.

But despite her tiredness the hauntings of earlier conversations kept her up. The hospital was bad enough, but she wondered what would have happened if she stayed in the Diner. She worried if everyone got home safely although she felt no guilt about leaving like she had. More notably she revisited the events of the Hale Estate. She twisted in her sheets, as she vividly remembered it felt as though her moist hair turned into tangles while trying to find a position of handholds or footholds. She wanted to have her friends' voices in her head, but she wanted quiet and stillness too. She looked to her cell phone in its deadness on her bedside table and wondered what she'd say to them if she could.

When she played hypothetical conversations in her mind it calmed her. She played the scenarios out; bickering, catching up, laughing, or worrying together. Tomorrow, she told herself (which was already today) she would go out and fix things. She would learn more, always learn more and she would fix things. She had faith her friends would keep until then.

Little did she know at that moment Allison was being perp-walked across the Argent lawn.

Track 08 - Arrow by Tegan & Sara

{Meanwhile at Argent's House, Westwood Neighborhood}

They came onto the Argent property by way of the Lodge, unseen from the main house and parked the ATV in front of Axel's place, intending to walk the final spread on foot. Although Allison remained quiet, she didn't pretend she was out of the doghouse. Instead, she practiced counter-arguments in her head. Instead of giving her the 3rd degree, Kate let her stew.

Drying out from the rain, Roman skid barefoot through her parent's kitchenette dressed in flimsy t-shirt and jeans that were stretched wide to fit along his long lanky limbs. Roman returned first from his assignment and took it as a privilege to raid the refrigerator. Allison was relieved the house wasn't entirely empty. Despite the unlikelihood that Kate would try to murder her she liked the idea that there would be an in-house witness just in case.

"Breakfast?" Roman offered, warming steak over the stove top. When Allison hesitated and looked to Kate for the go-ahead. "Come on," he insisted, "the only thing better than sirloin steak is day-old sirloin steak." He pressed Allison to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter.

She looked at the spread and back toward him with doubt, "you're making bacon."

"It's a side dish," he explained and rushed back to the stove to flip the bacon. "I insist. You missed dinner yesterday, so you're having breakfast." The moment he mentioned it her stomach turned and growled in reply. Coffee wasn't nearly enough of a meal.

"God, can't I have something besides red-meat?" she leaned up and looked around for any other option but only saw leftover containers of meat. She picked at the one that had some green garnish and gravy included. She used the one to scoop up the other and taste tested the sauce.

Roman looked on with disgust on his face. With speed and exasperation, he hopped over to the opposite counter and snatched a loaf of Italian bread and a decorative bowl of fruit (fortunately not wax).

"There you go Princess," he smiled with a wink and placed it before her before spinning back to grab his frying pan before the bacon burned. The term Princess wasn't demeaning from Roman, he used it for all the girls he liked and Prince for all the guys he liked. Just as he used King and Queen for the men and woman he looked up to, it was odd and left-over brow-beaten manners from his Mom, before she disappeared, and he was left with his Uncle Norm. It was when he didn't use an honorific that you knew he disliked you.

"Thanks," Allison knew her Mom would be furious in the morning to see her display disrupted, but the apple looked too good, so she dug in.

After a moment, a plate appeared before her with steak and bacon on it, "there. It'll put hair on your chest." It had a knife, fork, and napkin on it.

Kate watched on, she kept a cocky smile fastened in place and looked perfectly at ease.

"Queen Kate? Are you going to hover and wait to have left-over leftovers, or would you like to partake?" Roman plopped down beside Allison. At least he acknowledged Kate's presence, which was more than Allison had done in the last 5 minutes.

"I just like to see you so comfortable considering your busy night," she said provocatively.

"Oh Alright," he sarcastically recounted through a mouthful of red meat, "I really uncovered the entrance to a mystical Holt that reveals centuries of secrets because that's the sort of thing that's around every corner in this town. Only I'm not going to tell you because I'm waiting to reveal it to the next angsty hottie townie to get laid just like Bennet does," he said and grinned wide.

"Don't bring that punk into it," Allison laughed, "do you know he told this one girl he's a veteran from the North and South Korean wars, and then took her out on the shooting range to prove it?"

"Because we're at war with every Korea we confront; North, South, East and West?" Roman nodded in awe of Bennet's gumption.

Kate snorted and straddled a stool, "I hate teens."

"Not everything in Beacon Hills is mayhem, my Queen. Once they opened the Southern Highway, I had nothing to do. I came straight home," he stuffed another bite in his mouth and chewed slowly while looking both women over, then swallowed. "The two of you though, you look like you have a story. Tell."

Allison's eyes went big, pulled off the butt end of the loaf and popped it in her mouth and shrugged with an expression of haplessness. Kate and Roman were having none of it. Kate grinned and looked to Allison to answer so Roman followed in suit and Allison's only thought while she chewed.

"We didn't go to help with the black out," she mumbled. It finally was the sort of statement that would have started a massive argument from anyone else. Here is what it meant to be an Argent; she answered to no one and yet she answered to everyone. "There was a fire by the Preserve in Hale House; we went to investigate there instead."

Roman made a 'hmm' sound of interest while he chewed slowly, he glanced at Kate to see if she would expand. When she didn't, he looked back toward Allison swallowed loudly, and asked "Why did you end up there to begin with?"

Allison looked toward Kate for reprieve but saw none, so instead choked down some grapes. Kate's brow rose with amusement, she cleared her throat then explained that Tyhurst said to keep an eye on the Hale House. She expanded, after the Hale body turned, they expected heightened activity around the Hales, but they never expected something like this. He glanced back at Allison for corroboration, but she never found a grape so delicious.

After she swallowed, Allison added "correction; it was an explosion, not a fire. I'm not sure the flames were large enough to spread to the woods, but the rain put it out. We a couple of suspicious things we'll probably follow up once the rain lets up."

"After you catch up with some sleep you mean," Roman lost his joviality. He was only 2 years older, but he knew how easy it was to get overworked when constantly proving yourself to the big boys. "We'll still be here waiting for you after the 30 winks you'll allow yourself."

She sighed with a nod, cut off a bite of steak with a piece of bacon attached and chewed it slowly. "This was good, thanks." She hopped off the stool, "I should sleep before school anyway."

"There is no school today," he gave her a look of surprise that she hadn't known. He glanced at Kate, "didn't you hear? It's been all over the service frequency." He dropped his walkie-talkie onto the counter as emphasis. "You should have heard unless your walkies have been off for some mysterious reason."

"Yeah, sorry. Guess it got switched off by accident," Kate lied poorly; Roman and Allison looked to her in uncertainty.

"Alright, I guess I'll get more than 30 winks. And wash off all this soot," Allison headed toward the stairs.

"From the fire," Roman confirmed.

"Right," Allison paused in the doorway, suspicious at Roman's odd repetition.

"Where you didn't find anyone," Roman continued through a mouthful of steak.

"That's what I said," Allison nodded.

"So, you just observed and came back, right?" Roman turned on the stool to half face her and Kate at the same time.

"Yes, Roman." Allison said a little harsher tapping her foot in annoyance.

"With rope burns on your wrist and radio silence," Roman made it sound like a question, but it wasn't. He didn't expect an answer, but he liked the tension, so he swished his bacon in his Italian salad dressing before chewing it slowly with a grin. "Cool. That's cool. Goodnight Princess," he replied and turned back to play with his food.

Allison looked to Kate for what to do. Kate smirked to Roman, grabbed a piece of his steak before leaving the room by grabbing Allison by her arm.

"Roman is part of my team and he answers first to me. He won't say a thing, now go to bed," she said kindly.

"But what if-"

"Roman won't say anything because there is nothing to say," She kissed her niece on the cheek and gently pushed her up the stairs, "now, get some rest. You're going to need it to come up with better answers, because you have a room full of people to answer to later today."

Track 09 - Bad Habit by Foals

{Meanwhile at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, ER}

The Doctors placed Kira under observation for a concussion and the gash on her head. More interestingly it left her a resident on the same floor as Jackson Whittemore and while she might have gotten her fill of trying to take a peek, others felt differently. Her Dad took the long way back from the soda machine and longer breaks to the bathroom just so he could walk past the unit where Jackson's partition had been left with the curtain open. What luck!

It wasn't enough to know that the boy lived and the 'how', but Ken was curious to know 'why'? If history showed him anything, motive and execution rarely added up. His wife insisted she would handle it. The Argents assured they had it under control. But it didn't hurt if he poked his head in when he had nothing else to do. After all, they closed the school Friday due to unsafe conditions in the library and aftereffects of the blackout. As a well-meaning teacher of Beacon Hills, and a concerned parent, earned the right to be a bit of a snoop to, especially under dire circumstances.

"Ms. Blake?" Ken Yukimura walked over to his co-worker's side, surprised at her appearance in the hospital, "were you hurt at the incident at the school? I didn't see you there."

Jennifer Blake leaned against the second floor Nurses' station, fatigued, and sodden from the weather. She turned toward Ken, and it took a moment to place the familiar face in unfamiliar territory. Hugging her arms to her in an attempt for warmth, relief spread across her face and brightened her features.

"No, I was headed home but the roads North were cut off because of power outage," she sounded frustrated but then added with emphasis "once the storm hit, my car didn't stand a chance. What about you? You didn't get hurt at the school? Your daughter?" she tacked the last bit on as if she'd forgotten he had a daughter for a moment.

"Same, it was the storm." He nodded his head along kindly. "Why don't you sit with us while you wait and warm up?"

"I think it might be better if I wait here, just in case-" she reached for the counter of the Nurses' station despite the busy Nurses not exactly enjoying her presence.

"Jennifer, you're freezing," Ken took special note of her trembling hands.

"I'm fine," she smiled with her soft breed of confidence despite being framed by waves of damp dark windswept hair.

"Are your certain you're not in shock?" he reluctantly touched her arm to test whether it was attributed to nerves and not some chill that might need more immediate medical attention. But no, despite her general dampness she was warm, only her hands shook.

"Ken, I'll be fine" she nodded but she clutched onto the edge of the desk as if her frayed nerves would come apart if she let go. "I have Beacon Hills' finest to look after me," she reminded.

"What is it you're waiting for?" he asked. His curiosity had been piqued when he didn't notice an injury on her.

"Is it true they have Jackson in the ICU?" she looked passed him and then turned to look behind her. She continued to swivel back and forth several times. Not getting an answer from him only caused her agitation to rise.

"Yes," Ken answered eventually after a minute when he decided the truth would come out anyway and it could do no harm, "He too was injured on the road."

"I thought he was at the incident at the school?" her mouth dropped open with a sigh of relief.

"I must have been misinformed," Ken had forgotten Jackson had been reported at the library incident by Mr. Harris. Without a logically explained transition, it looked very suspicious to displace Jackson. Worse yet if Jackson woke up and didn't confirm whatever he said next- "It's a real shame what's happened," he tried to sound as sagely as possible, nodded his head and said nothing more.

"Do you know what's happened?" she asked. She released her hold on the counter to wring her hands as her heels clacked along the hall. She made a path toward the ICU where someone had left Jackson's window in full display. All half-dozen of the machines attached to him pumped at full power to keep his vitals, while half of his face look melted down. "That hardly looks like the injuries a kid would get from a few fallen books."

Ken shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her back toward the section where they were allowed before security got on their case.

"I'm not certain," he said kindly "but we're all pulling for him." He aimed her toward a hospital bench, unsurprisingly she resisted.

"I would like to know if he's going to be okay," she insisted and aimed toward the Nurse's station once more. As she continued, her voice rose in agitation, "but no one will speak to me." She noted his concerned expression she elaborated her predicament. "His family lives across the street from me. I think you know how it is Ken. It's difficult not to cross that professional line when you watch over them all day only to see them when you get home."

"It's like you just said Jen, Beacon Hills' finest are looking after him," he assured her with a smile and urged her one last time to join them. He even offered her a portion of their stale hospital food if she happened to be hungry.

"If it's just the same, Ken," she said with one of her more pointed smiles, "I think I'll wait here to talk to someone."

"Alright," he gathered himself up, he gave her a dashing grin before leaving her side. "Take care of yourself. You can't be there to take care of the children if you can't take care of yourself first."

Track 10 - Kettering by The Antlers

"Truer words were never spoken," Noshiko said hanging off the last of Ken's conversation as he reentered Kira's examination room. "Come sit with your daughter; try to manage keeping her in the bed."

"She keeps wandering off?" he asked coming to sit bedside.

"Well, you get to," Kira argued. She gestured towards the door as if she could pull it toward her.

"That's different" he explained, "I'm a rebel." He grinned and took hold of her hand.

Noshiko gave a short laugh and picked up her purse. With her unwinding came weariness and she had to act before tiredness overcame her. She looked to her husband and gave him a nod before she went out to justify herself. She made her way directly through the corridors toward the ambulatory entrance of the emergency room where she was certain to find the most administrative activity. It was the sort of thing to attract Argent interest and where she was likely to find Victoria.

Despite the long night and its heavy activities Victoria cut a fine line amongst the mass, with her short-cropped copper hair. Beside her stood designer clothes on a tall striking dark-haired foreign woman. They worked through the system, logging every call, every new admittance, and every injury, whether it was of marked interest or not. When Victoria caught sight of Noshiko she asked the woman if she could handle the observations alone.

"Rest assured I could handle them easily."

"Handle them, Livy, not murder them," Victoria reminded. The woman rolled her eyes and gave a graceful shrug before she returned to the office where staff parted swiftly as she reentered.

After finally finding a small empty space between two beds, barely enough to be considered private, Victoria and Noshiko came together to speak.

"How is she?" Victoria began. Kira's admission wouldn't have gone unnoticed.

"Better," Noshiko answered on instinct. Victoria looked disbelieving of that sentiment, "she is frightened. She doesn't understand what's happening."

"Has it occurred to you that knowing the truth might put her at ease?" Victoria said a tad too critically. Noshiko gave her a side glare that made her sigh. "Alright, I'll back off, but I can only give you help if you're going to listen."

"Help?" Noshiko snapped, "We did not come here for help. I think you have that reversed don't you, Hunter." She adjusted her position as best she could in their small space and regained her poise.

"When you're right you're right, and you often are," Victoria conceded with a smile. "But things have changed," she turned around the pile of papers she had clenched to her chest and revealed a tablet she hugged close to her. She dropped it to the bed beside them and ran through many layers of password protected protocols to reveal Kira's medical records. "There it is. It's pretty impressive... and removed from the hospital records."

Noshiko stared at the screen in alarm, she sometimes tapped the letters to change positions, but the MRI revealed Kira's electromagnetic waves gave off the shape of something inhuman. Something greater than human.

"Thank you," Noshiko said quickly.

"Just doing my job," Victoria squeezed her arm in warm assurance then moved to grab up the tablet. "Noshiko, the time has come to talk to your daughter about this change."

She laughed, "this isn't like the 'sex talk,' Victoria. This is telling her, 'We've been hiding secrets from you your whole life, so you'll probably question your self-worth.' This is saying 'you're from an ancient and long bloodline with obligations you were born into.' This is telling her 'there are monsters in the world and you're one of them.'"

After a deep breath, Victoria interrupted, "Noshiko, this is telling your daughter you love her, every piece of her whatever they'll be." She didn't move to hug her colleague. Only placed her hand over Noshiko's on the stretcher, "it's better that she knows she has you throughout this process than that she has to go through it alone. It's better than having her afraid."

Noshiko nodded but said nothing. The beeps from the monitors in the beds around them filled up the void nicely.

"I should get back," Victoria withdrew her hand quickly, she thought she heard someone call her name. she started to leave.

"How is your child throughout all of this?" Noshiko made a point of saying, not asking.

With her shoulders tight, turning on a heel Victoria spun back to face her, "my daughter?" Noshiko nodded. Noshiko damn well knew Victoria had a daughter and that her name's Allison. It wasn't vanity to say everyone knew the Argents. "Allison is holding her own during all of this."

"Yes, and Kira said they had classes together. She explained they were supposed to be in the library studying together today," her eyes were intent but tired as she came to her point, "that would be the same time Kira was abducted. Our children are at the center of these things, why?"

Victoria rolled her eyes, "God knows because I don't. That's just how it is." Victoria became distracted for a moment by Livy gesturing for her to come back. Instead, she pulled the curtain closed around them.

"Noshiko, what did you expect? The Argents came here out of duty; it meant bringing our children along. It had nothing to do with being happy or sad about it. That is what duty means. If you want to leave, no one will stop you but that won't prevent what you will go through with Kira. She was always going to mature, and you are always going to be her Mother."

She paused, in part for emphasis, in part to keep her tone in check and in part to acknowledge she wasn't upset with Noshiko. Allison had snuck out, run around in the dark, rainy forest and headlong into an explosion. By Victoria's own argument she was meant in some part to be okay with it. She practically bit her tongue.

"Victoria? That is noble sentiment, but this isn't about sentiment," Noshiko moved forward an inch and pointed to the obscured folder tucked into the space between the tablet and her chest. She didn't need to read it squarely to know the label read 'Jackson Whittemore', "If we stay here there is a threat, and it is aimed directly to the children."

Pursing her lips in thought Victoria replied, "Yes. And if you leave there will still be a threat. And someone else's child will come under fire. Only they won't understand what's happening or how to fight back but we do know they will certainly die."

Noshiko closed her eyes and breathed deeply and listened to the bustle of people just beyond the curtain. It felt alien certainly, like their worlds never touched normality and made it easier to make decisions.

"If we stay-while we stay, you need to let us go about things or own way," Noshiko reminded, "we both aim to do good here, but your family invaded this town while my family was summoned. We will help each other. Agreed?"

Track 11 - The Youth by MGMT

{Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, ER Waiting Room}

Once the traffic let up and they pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital easily. They cut the engine and were met with the tap-tap of a magna light flashlight clip harshly against the driver's side window. Their startlement was matched only by the shame in realization the Deputy meant business when she said they were under arrest.

"How do you manage to get arrested twice within 24 hours? No, twice within 12 hours?" Isaac wasn't laughing, and he wasn't even amused really but his weariness made it sound like it.

Stiles must have forgotten he was hand-cuffed because when he brought a hand up to make an emphatic gesture the other flew up with it and seemed to surprise him. That didn't stop him from jabbing an index finger toward Isaac's face.

"Detained," Stiles struggled to keep a low tone, "Technically we've been detained."

"They read our Miranda rights this time Stiles," Scott leaned toward him over the coffee table.

"Detained," Stiles repeated with emphasis, "Right?" he spun back around to look at the arresting officer.

From the waiting room door, the Deputy glanced over her shoulder toward them, and she shook her head in amused sympathy.

"Deputy Clarke," he stood and stumbled around the coffee table. In an obvious attempt to avoid Isaac he stepped onto Scott's feet. "But I thought you liked me?"

"I do like you Stiles," she scoffed and brought her hands down onto her hips, onto the holster of her gun to remind of her authority, "it's why I cuffed your hands in front of you. Deputy Haige said if he found you, he would have brought you in with ankle cuffs."

With that Scott and Isaac cringed and held their hands up in contrition.

"W-why would he do that?" Stiles winced and backed off a few feet.

"The Sheriff wanted you brought back safely. And I had money you would come back on your own," she smiled.

"Wait," he stepped forward once more, "there was a betting pool?"

She tilted her head from side to side noncommittally, "Parrish said you'd head home. Graeme said you would hide out at a friend's. Haige said you'd probably end up at a girlfriend or worse."

"You really do like me," said Stiles with a sighing flair to add playfulness.

Deputy Clarke answered "Ah-ah," by way of a warning.

"Purely out of speculative interest," Stiles asked doubling back, "how much did you win?"

"Let's just say, if there were illegal activity going on which I haven't openly admitted to than it would be something in the triple digits," she smirked.

"Nice," Stiles had a glint in his eyes as he headed back to his seat, where he discovered Isaac and Scott staring at him in twin expressions of disbelief. "What? It's nice to be held in high esteem."

"Alright, what are we supposed to do about this?" Isaac raised his handcuffed wrists and shook them dramatically as if they were manacles. "It isn't the time of month for this and not all of us find them to be fashionable, like a certain someone." Isaac gave his head a tilt to the side and a smirk that infers an inside joke that made Stiles snigger.

But when Scott asked who they meant, Isaac and Stiles were quick to answer 'no one' in unison. While their shared relation was no longer a secret, without meaning to Scott felt a little burnt by it. In fact, he tried not to, part of him even found it endearing because he sensed Isaac had trouble finding someone to get all his nuanced jokes. Just like he sensed how awkward Stiles has felt about being accepted since his return. So, he wasn't jealous, he was grateful they had each other, something he had to remind himself of and not for the first time.

"Do you think we could escape?" Isaac kidded. Isaac held up his hands and twisted them in a way that reminded they could just break the handcuffs if they wanted to.

"What's the point?" Scott moaned low and rubbed his face in defeat.

"Yeah, we should probably lay low at this point," Stiles shrugged awkwardly, his hands clanging together.

"What's the point of not trying to escape?" was Isaac's rebuttal.

"How 'bout keeping out of getting thrown into a holding pen with the rest of the troublemakers," the Sheriff answered from the doorway over Isaac's left shoulder.

"Dad!" Stiles jumped but was too intimidated to stand.

Despite the frustration his Dad smiled at the sight of him. He gestured for him to stand and come forward dangling the handcuff keys like a fishing lure.

As Scott and Isaac hurried towards their liberation, Stiles was slower to his feet. Once he was near enough though, they were pushed out of the way as he was yanked forward into the Sheriff's hug.

"Goddamnit," he said gruffly smothered into Stiles' shoulder. "Nothing short of arresting you is going to keep your sorry butt out of trouble, is it?"

"I'm so sorry, Dad."

With a second swipe the Sheriff pulled Scott over as well, clumsily into the embrace. After a long moment, The Sheriff released them both and kept a grip on Scott's neck. He gave them both a long look over, from tatter top to soot-stained bottom and he made a noise that sounded like a scoff and a grunt. Scott tried not to laugh while Stiles tried not to flinch (and failed).

"Isaac, am I right? The foster brother?" the Sheriff asked to which Isaac nodded stiffly, "Thanks for bringing this idiot back safe."

When he reached over to shake the Sheriff's hand it wasn't the same sort of hug he gave the others, but he was pulled in just the same, their hands clasped and given a clap on the back.

"You're welcome... sir," Isaac stiffened. He was unused to Fatherly displays of affection. Despite Kate's accusations, Isaac's loyalty to Derek wasn't Fatherly at all.

"Now," then the Sheriff gripped one of Stiles' shoulders and one of Isaac's to the point of pinching, turned them around and frog marched them further into the room, "what the hell were you thinking?!"

That was a tone Isaac was more familiar with, Stiles however wasn't, and he felt ashamed for upsetting his Dad.

Uncertain on how much the Sherriff knew Isaac replied in what he assumed was the safest response "thinking about what exactly?"

"Since I can't trust either of you to stay put," he responded thrusting them into the uncomfortable hospital chairs, "even under police supervision the two of you are going to have to stay right here until I can bring the car around, take you to the house, feed you, scold you and put you to bed. You okay with that?"

Stiles' brows went up, grinned, and gave him a nod.

"Good, 'cause it was either that or the drunk-tank," he threatened, turned to leave.

The tactic of staying still and hoping not to be noticed wouldn't work unless the Sheriff could physically walk through him. And as much as he hated himself for asking it, Scott couldn't prevent the tragedy "what about me?"

"Ah," the Sheriff's grinning amusement terrified him. "I almost forgot," he cooed, having clearly not forgotten at all, "your Mom wants you to wait for her at the Nurses' station."

It was all of 20 feet away but from the looks Scott cast his friends it may as well have been the Moon. They reflected his hapless expression but kept their seats for fear of upsetting Stiles' Dad.

Track 12 - Waiting It Out by Imogen Heap

{Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, ER Nurses' Station}

Considering their recent accustomed hug followed by some sort of smack in the arm or whack in the back of his head, it hurt Scott to see his Mom refrain. Her anger clearly made it too much for her to actually stay still. When Scott tried to get her attention, she glared daggers in warning, so he sat back down and waited for her to come along on her own terms. Penitent and impatient in the Nurses' station he waited while she buzzed by him continuing her rounds.

Finally, she dropped her pile of paperwork on the counter between them, she no longer wore her nurses uniform but her coat, and an expression that meant 'Move it!'

"It's not just this," even irritated she moved along the hall with her arm wrapped through his, "although arrested, escaping and evading police custody twice is a new low... now, that I didn't think that you would reach quite this soon. It's everything on top of it."

Her temper had risen to the point where she had to stop to force him to look at her face-to-face, "The completely bizarre behavior, the sneaking around late at night, fighting at school along with your failing grades."

"Midterms aren't until next week though," Scott responded in a way that sounded like a sore excuse. From just over her shoulder, through the doorway of the waiting room nearest Scott could make out the silhouette of Stiles and Isaac eavesdropping.

"Really, Scott? Really?" she took a step back to balk at his audacity. Stiles grimaced in response and Isaac waved him off in his execution of a defense. "I have to ground you." Her intensity rose with her repetition, "I have to ground you. I am grounding you. You are grounded."

"What about school?" he asked before he thought better of tone.

"Fine - Other than school," she rethought her strategy, "then no computer."

"I need the computer for school," he responded instinctively.

"Then no, uh-" Melissa swung around to notice Stiles hovering and he stumbled back into Isaac who in turn fell back behind the door frame. "No Stiles," she added.

"What?" Scott flinched, Stiles rushed forward and was shoved back by Deputy Clarke. "No, Stiles?" he implored, the Deputy looked at him pitiably but kept her footing.

"No Stiles!" she repeated with conviction. Then hesitated when she realized their reuniting, while challenging, it mattered. But she stood her ground. She continued "and no more motorcycle privileges. Give me your motorcycle keys," she continued at a rambling pace and Scott hurried to comply "Give 'em to me! Oh, for the love of God."

"Mom, you want me to-" he offered to unhook the key from his keychain for her. Sensing her frustration, he felt compelled to do more, to try more to make this better. To make amends.

"No," she scolded and snatched her hand away only to fumble at keeping the keys from falling.

"Mom, come on, let me just- Mom!" he insisted. He felt her anxiety rose and soaked through his skin and felt awful that he had caused this in her.

"What is going on with you?" she went still and held onto his hands.

"Do you really wanna know?" he continued low, having little more than an inch over her, he brought her nearer and steadied her hands between his.

"Yeah."

Scott wanted to come clean, about Werewolves and Hunters, about haunted dreams and demolished homes. Not only did he not know where to begin but he didn't know where that story even ended. Over her shoulder Scott saw Stiles and Isaac with their faces shared expressions of uneasiness. Isaac shook his head tightly and Stiles bit his lip intensely, watching him with eyes wide as saucers.

"Is this about your Father?" she asked quietly, and Scott's guilt crushed his ability to speak.

From where they stood, Isaac looked to the floor, he understood that distress too well. As part of a pack in hiding, all Isaac ever did was lie about his family, from his biological to his foster family even to people he cared… especially to the people he cared for. That feeling sucked. Although Stiles' feelings mirrored Scott's his expression glossed with brave-facedness and gave Scott a small nod insisting he could do this. Then Stiles pushed Isaac back into the waiting room to give Scott the semblance of privacy because of course with their enhanced hearing they would know everything anyway.

"It is, isn't it?" in desperate, Melissa grasped for the truth while she stared into her son's eyes. When nothing came of it, "Okay, you know what, um - We'll talk about this at home. I'm gonna go get the car."

"I'm the worst son ever," Scott shook his head and moved toward his friends. Before he could reach them, his pocket buzzed with his cell phone ringing. He stared at them and then at the caller ID. Forbidding transportation and prohibiting contact with friends weren't bad enough, if he didn't take this call before he passed through the hospital double-doors who knew when he would have a chance to talk to Allison again.

Track 13 - Take You Home (Let It Go) by Onyay Pheori

On the floor with her back pressed against the bed Allison faced the bedroom door and pressed her toes into the carpet. With freshly clean hair framing her face as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. The question hovered in her mind, and it now belonged to her though someone else placed it there. What had the others found in the Hale House?

It must have been important. It nearly killed her friends. What could have been that valuable and worthwhile that even afterward they didn't flinch to talk circles around it. None of them heard Lydia scream but she led them, and they went along. What could be worth poison and pain? She rubbed at the wrist of the hand that held her cell phone.

Finally, she decided her curiosity bubbled over her need for sleep and she watched the door to make sure no one peeked in. Scott picked up on the second ring. While he was not asleep, he didn't seem inclined to speak.

"Are you okay?" she said in a tiny voice and the word 'okay' sounded subjective.

"I'm handling things," he said honestly because Scott was always honest.

"Scott... I'm worried. And I can't sleep because I can't stop worrying," she shuddered at her own honesty.

He paused and she could hear the noise of people in the background. He sounded like he was at the hospital still.

"Allison, I'm worried too," he finally admitted. His voice became a small, muffled whisper as he cupped the phone to prevent others from overhearing. "I feel like… we're just kids. We can't handle all of this."

She drew her knees up and wrapped her left arm around them. She imagined him sitting in a hallway. He imagined her pacing the halls of her second floor. Then she imagined him at the Nurse's station. Then he imagined her at her desk taking notes. She imagined him sitting in a waiting room. He imagined her curled up on her windowsill. They closed their eyes and imagined being beside one another. And she leaned her cheek against the hill of her knees and talked carefully and softly against the mouthpiece of her phone.

"Why would you do it then? Why did you go to the Hale House?" she asked quietly.

"Are you asking because you want to know if I'm okay or because you're investigating?" Scott grumbled and she could hear the strain in his voice. Despite his greater attempts to accept the idea of 'Hunters', the acknowledgment that his girlfriend was one of them was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Sorry," she back pedaled. "I just can't sleep, my brain is always in investigation mode," she yawned despite her claim.

Scott smiled into the mouthpiece. "Can't you turn off your Hunter brain for one night just to be a concerned girlfriend?"

"Can't I be a Hunter and a concerned girlfriend?" she asked sounding mildly annoyed.

After a moment's pause he thought about it and how tough it must have been on her from day one and her struggle. "You've never been anything else," he said smilingly, "and I am really lucky for it."

"Damn lucky," she replied smugly.

Realizing the time Scott came to his senses, "Allison, I have to go. My Mom is waiting for me, and she is pissed."

"Alright, I lov-" she stared at her phone. He disconnected before she had gotten a chance to say it again. But she was just getting used to it and now the unrest stayed with her. Not only had he cut her off, but he left her question unanswered.

Track 14 - Weight Of It All by Handsome Ghost

{Still in Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, ER Waiting Room}

The act of trying to remain patient in the waiting room, just waiting for their ride became a punishment onto itself.

"You're Dad's scary," Isaac said rubbing his sore wrists.

"My Dad's great," Stiles replied, he hopped off the uncomfortable hospital chair and took a seat on the coffee table facing Isaac.

"The last thing Kate talked to you about was a 'revenge claim' going on for killing an Alpha," Isaac muttered as he squirmed forward in his seat.

"We didn't kill any-" Stiles scoffed and tried to shake off the idea, "do you think Derek did it?" He didn't add before he died. He didn't squirm in his seat, but it was obvious his skin crawled at the prospect that his Alpha killing another pack's Alpha, it was the sort of unspeakable act that made all of this drama make sense.

"Don't you think he would, if he were trying to escape captivity?" Isaac's brow rose in a way that suggested this was more than obvious.

"-but Derek's body was found first," Stiles cut in.

"-but all this aggression started after Derek's" Isaac stopped himself from saying death, "disappearance, then it wouldn't make sense for it to be a revenge claim."

Stiles gave pause to this statement. Stiles' pauses were louder than anyone else's in the world, they were filled with plot and conspiracy, so that whatever he said, even if it was wrong it gave depth to the conversation. "Unless it's..." he started and when he closed his eyes and pinched his nose, coupled with the still cuffed hand it muffled his words, "Cora."

Isaac scoffed loudly and dropped back loudly against the couch. He shook his head in disbelief, but his eyes were locked on Stiles, waiting for there to be a sign of doubt. There was not.

When Isaac mentioned Cora in the Diner earlier, even then he felt a drop in his stomach. He saw the effort it took for Stiles to say her name and understood he wouldn't have tossed it around frivolously.

"She's the only one I can think of who knows how to formally claim revenge," Stiles nodded in thought and continued. "Who else has the right to?" he leaned forward and dragged Isaac forward by his fistfuls of his jacket and scarf, "Isaac, do you really think she might still be alive?"

Too stunned to talk Isaac closed his eyes and shook his head, not in negation but in nervousness, he reached between them to unclasped Stiles' hands and gripped them hard for a second before letting them fall.

After a beat he dropped his voice, "Isaac? You know there is no way Cora is going to be able to live up to a revenge claim on her own."

"Like that'd stop her from trying," Isaac scoffed. After a moment of staring at each other and calculating how true that statement was he looked back to the instigator friend, "Stiles, I think we're going to need more help. We should ask Scott."

Immediately Stiles shook his head. He could figure out a lot in a moment, but plotting wasn't like compromising someone's safety. Especially someone he had sworn never to put in harm's way hours earlier.

"No way," Stiles waved his hands in a cross as if he waved off a plane landing, "I'm not askin' him. I haven't seen Scott in years." After a pause, "but Cora is like a sister."

"And Scott is like your brother," Isaac understood, maybe not fully. But Isaac was a friend to Scott at this point and knew if presented with the choice what his answer would definitely be. "He'll say yes if you just ask."

Stiles' internal conflict spilled over, and Isaac hadn't seen him this upset before. It wasn't 'punch a wall upset' it wasn't even 'yell illogically snarky rambles' upset. Stiles stared at a spot at the wall and stewed silently.

"Listen," Scott clarified, "I think if she's alive than we need to find her right away. What happened at that place was dangerous. Whatever she's survived, she's going to need help recovering from before things get worse."

Neither had notice Scott had snuck his way back into the waiting room. Isaac swore so loud and flinched, his arms jerked back barely missing smacking Stiles' chin. Stiles looked over with something akin to satisfaction.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked.

"Conjugal visit," Scott explained and pointed toward Deputy Clarke who looked on and pointed toward her wristwatch in warning. "She let me come stop in to say bye to my brothers in crime."

Stiles cracked a smile of relief.

"If Cora is family to you... well, she's family to me. I'll help you find her."

"Scott, I can't ask you to-" Stiles started.

"Moron. You guys should never have to," obviously from the grin on his face and the hand he had placed on Stiles' shoulder he heard more than he'd let on.

"Scott, it's time," Deputy Clarke pulled at his left elbow guiding him away.

When Scott stepped away, he looked unwilling and scraped along in his already scuffed over sneakers.

"Stiles?" Isaac gnawed his finger and considered how much Scott could understand. "What was it you said about Kate's narration?"

Stiles scrunched up his face in momentary confusion, "that she isn't a reliable narrative?"

"Alright, then we've just got to figure out who is?" Isaac suggested.

"Kate's wrong," he said finally in a voice that sounded raw, "We aren't lost boys." He didn't face Isaac all the way only looked at him from the corner of his eye. Isaac made a small noise that said he still listened. Their mind followed the same train of thought, if Cora still lived, her pure-blood passion would have driven her to do crazy things like avenge Derek. It wasn't beyond the realm of reason. It was the same sort of thing that drove Isaac to make a compromising deal with Kate. Maybe Stiles hadn't done the same thing but that wasn't to say he wouldn't have if he had been given the chance.

"Derek wasn't a Father figure to us. He was a leader and a friend, but not what I'd call the most reliable or even stable source for reasoning. Good thing we weren't raised by Derek. We were raised by Talia."

Track 15 - Hounds by Valleys

{Dawn – Beacon Hill State University, City Central, BH. CA}

When the power began to seep outward from the hospital, Beacon Hill University was one of the first places for it to return to. Despite the sun beginning to brighten the town and the power returning, their blackout bonfires burned straight through until noon. It was going to be a hell of a time cleaning up the campus but still it was worth it.

With the recent violent crimes, the Resident Advisors decided, with campus police spread to the thinnest, they enlisted the aid of the 'sober-friends' ride services brought stranglers into RA's room for safe keeping. A sort of inelegant drunk tank, while the rest of the partygoers stuck in large groups to the bonfires.

Because the highway ran along the West Entrance, any stranded drivers looking for a place to wait out the blackout/storm had been welcome to join the biggest lawn party in the history of the University.

The placement of the campus also meant anyone on the East side not partying, watching lightning dance on mountaintops through a wicked storm, (which was hardly anyone) witnessed the snuffing out of the Hale House fire over the woodland horizon. Later, word would get around about it, and when it also became something of legend everyone would claim to have witnessed it but really less than a handful had.

"The storm has been letting up for hours now," Ethan made it sound like the weather had conspired against him. "Can we still call it a storm when we know it's wrong?"

"The ground is still wet," Aiden shrugged. He shook out the water from his hair, amused with the spray it lashed out at those around him. "Why not, we don't know what else to call it."

"But it's backwards," Ethan squinted toward his twin unamused at being sprayed on sideways as well as from above.

They sat with their legs dangling over the pipe-railing of a low-level stairwell, they wore Varsity jackets that suited them but didn't belong to them.

"How do you mean backward," Aiden took a swig of a beer that due to his metabolism wouldn't get him drunk, "it isn't rising up? It isn't 'not' wet?"

Ethan snatched up the can, finished it before tossing it through the air with expert precision, skidding off the side of the building, bouncing off his brother's Kawasaki and into the recycling bin. It so happened with the rainwater fell in a vertical line and didn't respond to the wind and when the lightning followed the thunder his every natural sense went static.

"You know what I mean," he grinned after a deliberately offensive belch.

"Rude!" Aiden snapped at him but returned the grin.

"Hey, do you want another one?" came a voice from just under their stoop.

"Nah, I think we're good," Ethan waved off the offer.

"I meant you might want to let this one lay down in your room," the person suggested with a different lighthearted tone. They carried propped against Them a man of fairly decent build who was so far gone all of his weight fell over onto Them, even when They yanked his arm several times over Their shoulders to keep him up, he still hung like a rag doll.

"I don't know," Aiden looked to his brother, "are we still taking in stragglers?"

"Aiden, that's Gus," Ethan leaned in and whispered against his brother's ear a second before he hopped over the railing and landed on the dewy lawn. "Yeah, why not? Who says the party has to stop here? It's 5pm somewhere, right?"

"Thanks, we got it from here," said Aiden as he dropped alongside Ethan and pulled the other arm of his unconscious Beta over his shoulder. They ambled up the steps together. If they weren't trying to save face one of them might have been able to carry Gus' deadweight alone. Possibly. But it was a marvel Gus had found his way back safely considering what is strong enough to have rendered a Werewolf unconscious to begin with. And then how difficult it would have been to locate Gus' Alphas since they were well camouflaged into their student life at Laurel Hall.

"You're lucky I found him when I did," They explained while They followed through the hall, "he was likely to get flattened or worse."

"Yeah?" Aiden felt a chill go down his spine. Gus was old enough to be his Father and a reckless idiot because the loss of Cooter had driven him to extremes. Loss like that was something Aiden was getting familiar with, so he had empathy that Gus was certainly putting to a stretch.

"While you've been judging co-ed's, wet t-shirt contests the forest has been burning," Their voice went deep and lost all humor.

Ethan and Aiden made it halfway down the length of the hall before the details occurred to them. From the opposite direction They had come forward, from the jogging trail from the East of the University property. The fact that the Twins struggled with Gus, but They alone carried him. Plus, the way They picked the Twins out of every RA on the quad to drag Gus to.

The Twins dropped Gus like the dead weight he was and spun to find that They had followed along and blocked the pathway back. It turned black and smoky around Their eyelids as the color of Their eyes changed from brown to golden, Their dark brown hair streaked white flecked with black. They presented as a shapeshifter unlike a Werewolf, under Their racer-back tank revealed a slender muscular body with dark and light patches that matched Their long hair, while the tips of Their ears and claws extended and went pitch black.

In unison the Twins snapped their fangs free and growled. The Twins began to change with eyes that turned bright Alpha red and claws extended ready to grip.

The bottle neck of the hallway provided only enough space for one to attack at a time. The shapeshifter ducked low and caught onto Ethan's arm when he swung for their head; They allowed for him to smack Them against the wall then used the weight to drag him down with while kicking his face upward dislocating his arm. They rolled out from under him as Aiden aimed a dropping punch at Their head, missing Them by mere centimeters.

The position changed into trapped and They found Themselves ready to pounce. By hesitating the shapeshifter knew that fighting Alphas left little chance at survival despite Their type. They breathed in deep, gave out a growl then climbed up the wall, bounced off it and jumped twisting with Their elbow aimed at Aiden's face. He caught Them mid-air and flung Them with great force into the ceiling slamming the fluorescent light fixture before he smacked Them down into the ground with enough it rattled every bone in Their body.

As he reached back for a dramatic slash at Their face, They pulled Their legs upward to wrap around the arm that pinned Them, to twist and break it at the elbow. They continued to twist and rolled until both turned over and They lay clumsily on top. All growled loudly at one another as they moved to head-butt him but before They made contact, overhead Ethan grabbed Them by the hair and smacked his knee into Their face.

The blow sent Them fumbling backward releasing Aiden. They jumped dizzily to Their feet and used Their sense of hearing rather than sight to navigate as They lashed out. As Ethan swung at Them, he missed, and Aiden got to his feet. As all three began to growl and came to slowly move toward one another, but Gus came to and yelled at them to wait.

"don't kill Herveaux just cause They ain't got the best attitude," Gus explained.

"And?" Ethan expected more.

Gus said nothing but shrugged instead and They laughed.

"Gus, you prick," They flipped him off and withdrew Their claws as They did, then waited for a response.

Ethan and Aiden looked to each other for an explanation, but both looked as lost as the other, instead the shifter moved past Ethan and to Gus' side and helped prop him to sit against the wall. Although awake he looked mostly unresponsive.

"Is he going to be, okay?" Aiden asked coming to stand over Their side.

They glanced up at him "Now you give a crap?" They grumbled. Gus' legs barely helped them as They yanked at his collar to force him to stand. "Who knows? Take him to your suite," They shoved him over into Aiden's arms. Herveaux's features had returned to mostly normal, Their hair stayed salt and pepper by the ears, Their claws went away but Their eyes stayed colored, and the tips of Their ears took longer to return from black to Their natural tan. Gus was right about Their attitude.

The Twins returned to their commons state although the state of the hall wouldn't be the same until the repairmen came.

"What the hell even happened to him?" Ethan asked when Aiden dropped Gus onto a low couch. Gus went back to sleep.

"Packs have been running wild tonight," Herveaux tsked disgruntled, "and you don't even know where your Betas are?"

The Twins shared a look half-shame half-resentful. "You say that like you have any idea what this is like, running a pack," Aiden snapped.

"You're just a Beta," Ethan continued. He knew he sounded like a bitter child, exactly as Kali accused them of being but he couldn't stop the words as they fell from his mouth. "What right do you have to question? Look at you, forced to run errands for your Alpha that could get you dead. Bet you didn't question him, did you?"

"A pack ain't a democracy," They grumbled, Their voice went deep with displeasure. After a sigh They shook Their head, sympathy simmered in Their eyes as they took on Their natural light brown.

"I know what it's like to find yourself after everything is flipped in your pack. I'm in my position it's because I owe a debt." There was no doubt about that fact. It was rare of for a Werewolves to welcome another predator into the pack, at that a Werelynx with shapeshifter properties brought to the party incalculable risk. Herveaux must have been desperate to have come to be inducted into a Werewolf pack, possibly against the pack wishes considering Their shiny personality. To say Herveaux owed a 'debt' was putting it mildly.

They jabbed a finger toward Gus, "it doesn't look like he likes taking orders from you either, but a pack is a pack is a pack." They spoke easily about being part of a pack when it was clear They hardly belong. Their loyalty was strong, and the Twins listened intently hoping to understand how to forge something like that among their ranks. "Keep it together or else."

"Is that a threat?" Ethan looked to Gus, back to the Werelynx and growled. His eyes brightened without meaning to.

"It ain't like that," They nearly laughed. "It's like a saying my old man used to say in the old country 'shit or get off the pot.'" They went across the room and dropped onto seat beside Ethan's seat, "just so you know my Alpha is Ennis and no, he doesn't know I'm here on this death-defying mission. I came 'cause I pity you two."

A silence filled the room and settled heavier than the storm once had only the storm had let up and the day had moved on, but the weight of Their word wouldn't.

"I ain't going to compromise myself again," They dusted off their jeans in a gesture of moving on. "After that explosion tonight and this storm covering it up... my people, Deucalion's people and Kali's people are searching for our missing in the forest. If you were any leaders at all you would be too. Or else it'd look like you're the ones behind it."

"That's insane," Aiden exclaimed and even Ethan made a gesture of frustration coming forward.

"This war is insane," Ethan almost wanted to hit them instead he only stepped forward; chest thrust out but did nothing. All bruised up but looked ready for another round.

"Grief is insane," They lightly kicked at Gus' leg. "I found this guy lame in a field trapped with Carmichael's Monkshood; looking for someone named Naylor in what he swore was a shallow grave. I had to choke him out, break his arms and legs and then drag out him out by the scruff of his neck. Either that or count him as the next corpse."

"He would have died exposed to that much Wolfsbane," Ethan defused and came to Gus' side to see the damage. He understood now exactly how and why his friend would have been brought in unconscious and weak, unable to speak for himself. He didn't have to like the guy to love the guy.

"At least he had the right idea," Herveaux stood and moved smoothly passed, while Aiden and Ethan came to stand in the center of the suite. They hesitated at the door, looked the Twins over with a pitiable shake to Their head and warned again. "War ain't a spectator's sport."

Playlist Available: 8tracksDOTcom / bhanesidhe / 13-were-you-sorry

Playlist: transferred over to youtubeDOTcom / bhanesidhe / playlist