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

21. certain

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Track 01 - Paradise Circus by Massive Attack

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{Saturday: Late Night – Central City}

There was a significant lack of bars in the center of the city within Beacon Hill. On the outskirts, along the county lines near Fairvale, there were seedier ones. Intown some there were a handful of family friendly sports pubs that closed early. Then there's the cop bar. It was less a bar, nearer to half-bars attached to a late-night café' located equal distance between the Sheriff's Station and Memorial hospital, which served a handful of appetizers at all hours for the overnighter shifters.

Semi-professionals stumbled in, sleep-deprived, looking for something stronger than what the Hospital/Sheriff's dept. breakroom offered. Nik didn't have to try awfully hard to fit in. Standing tall, but not standing out, with stylishly tousled short cropped tawny hair and wearing a casual deep V-neck tee. Even if eyes drifted toward her, they would question more 'what was her phone-number' than 'why was she there'.

As Werewolf packs were screaming bloody war, it wasn't like they were going to get reliable Intel form Hunters as violence spurred on. Other Packs, like Ennis would be too rash be reasonable, and Kali was too conning to be trustworthy. Which led Deucalion's pack to send their thief, Nik, in at short notice. The easy assignment to "seduce up an officer and steal their keys" routine was the easiest option. Nik didn't like it, it was beneath her level of expertise. It was not only the simplest but the one with the most flaws, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Staking out the ideal place, the cop bar, would get the ideal mark. Deputy Parrish was out of the question. Parrish had access to the information she wanted but he was Sheriff Stilinski's shadow which made him impossible to get a hold of. Deputy Clarke's home obligations and made a ritual of her routine and practically unapproachable. Deputy Graeme had a boyfriend who worked at the hospital, which meant her attention was in all the wrong places. Which left the less than ideal Deputy Haigh. He was a wild card; his eagerness meant he was hyper-aware at times, but his vanity meant he bragged about every case he was involved with.

The jukebox played classic rock and Nik pretended she couldn't make up her mind. Man, what a shame she had an extra selection left and how fortunate Deputy Haigh came along to help her figure it out. What a gentleman! First, they talk about music, what a coincidence they liked all the same bands! Then they shared a few beers and Nik challenged to out drink him, which of course she could with her Werewolf metabolism. Haigh grew louder and prouder the more he drank and remembered the perfect song. Man, she would love this one. Wow, everything he said was so fascinating, Nik said as she leaned in close, her blue-green eyes intent on his dark-dark brown as she ran her hand down the Deputy's arm, wanting to hear another heroic story. Another round?

"I- I think I should get some air," Nik said, hopping of the bar stool with a wobble. "I guess I don't have the tolerance I thought I did."

Haigh looked concerned but foggy-eyed with inebriation.

"It's alright," she insisted, "pick another song." She swayed a little to the music. Her height made it seem airy and angelic, not drunken at all. "Get us another round while you're at it."

Outside Nik clutched at the doorframe and tilted into it with a giggle. Never having felt drunk before, she could only process slowly while her head spun that the music felt delightful, until someone caught her off her guard. Being vulnerable in the middle of town and without back up had been a possibility, but Nik hadn't realized that feeling drunk meant she wouldn't care less.

Someone sabotaged the bar, Damn! She'd been so focused on the mark that she let her guard down. In the middle of a county wide warzone, the City Central left her vulnerable in all directions, but she couldn't lose sight of her objective.

Small mercy: the Deputy had been too drunk to notice when Nik stole his keys. After a little fumbling she managed to unlock the car door and collapse into the driver's seat. She searched in the dark and saw no one following but then her senses were starting to fail her. She couldn't feel much more than the gross belchy smell of beer and pretzels threatening to come up. After figuring out how to turn on the vehicle's siren, Nik plowed through Main Street she nearly made it the long drive back to Deucalion's house in The Hills. Nearly.

After turning off a service road a motorcycle cut her off, and Nik nearly spun out. As familiar lines of Echo Lane called her home, she thought she was safe until that same motorcycle stood in the center of the Lane, with two figures stood on either side. Had she been sober, she might have been able to navigate around them, but her vision made twin blurs of them. She hit the brakes violently, the rear wheels spun out and into a ditch at the side. After a few seconds she regained her breath, trembling in shock.

The two figures followed from the road, slowly climbing over the rocks and through branches. Nik touched where her arm pinched between the door and the chair and marveled that she wasn't healing. Damn that sabotage!

Once she shoved open the door relief and pain washed over her. She tucked her armed tight to her side as she went along. Through her blurry vision she recognized the men coming toward her.

"Kali sent you? Really?!" Nik asked incredulously and limped clear of the vehicle. "Guys, I'm a thief. I'm not even a threat to her!"

"Don't take offense," Santos explained frankly, "it's a strategy thing."

With his quick swing at her head, she more fell away from his blow then ducked. She stumbled to her knees, twisted at the waist, and punched upward. She had aimed for his balls, missing that she uppercut him in the gut. He stumbled backward onto his ass ruining his smart suit.

"It's just that Deucalion has a thief. We need a thief," Huntington circled around the hood of the car, cutting off their graceless dance.

"Come on, we're loyalist," Nik spun around and faced him. She stood tall, even on her bad leg, while she kept her chin high, "I won't be turned or tortured."

"I know that Nik," Santos said harshly, his claws came out as he grabbed her from behind. He dug his claws into her side, she cried out in pain, jerking hard away from the throbbing agony in her bad arm.

"In the end it's about numbers," Huntington explained. "Kali will be satisfied knowing there is one less nuisance around." Pulling her away from Santos, Huntington yanked her forward by her good arm and pulled her towards the motorcycle, climbing up to the edge road.

"That's a lie, Huntington," her mouth trembled from pain more than fear, "you're not that simple." She figured if she kept them talking her sobriety would return to her soon-ish, but she never felt intoxicated before. She could only guess what came next. From Huntington she got the impression he didn't like getting his answers via physical pain. Santos however, had an unstable reputation she remembered mumbled through her friend Meyers' dislocated jaw after their last altercation.

"We'd rather take this thief off the board," Santos shrugged. He marched on her right side, ensuring she moved along the rocky ground.

"You won't kill me," Nik repeated low. She shoved off his hold, tripping forward and caught balance before her face hit the ground.

"How do you know that?" Santos scowled and pulled her upright by the jacket collar.

"It's why you sabotaged the jukebox," her words slurred, and her steps slowed. "You could have just attacked me. Instead, you used a subsonic weapon to weaken me yet keep your distance. You want to know what I know."

Huntington looked to Santos, silent questioning if they should interrogate right away or get back to The Ponds. Then he responded, "you would say anything to stay alive."

"Which is it? Taking me off the board or a numbers game?" she swung around to test her theory. Grinning, she watched them and waited for the first one to try and put another hand on her. "I would never betray my pack."

"Then what good are you to us?" Santos tsked and threw another wide right to get her off balance.

Nik ducked low, not noticing Huntington and circling behind her back yet again. One a second attempt, she dropped faster under Santos' reach and followed through with another upper cut to his gut. She connected with an elbow into the rib. As Santos tripped forward, she came around behind him and used momentum to throw him into Huntington. She kicked Huntington's shins to ensure they both fell to the ground giving her a running chance to make it back up to the road.

As a limping Nik made headway, Santos wrapped his arms like a vice around her, pinning both arms to her sides. She screamed against the flood of pain, the spasm of shock threw back her head and smacked him flat in the nose. For good measure, she elbowed Santos in the throat with her good arm.

But when Nik turned back to the road she was met with Huntington's fist to the face, at a downward arch that sent her skidding to her knees. Even blocked, the blows bluntness sent her back a pace. She aimed for another gut shot and this time nailed him in the groin. It was shocking how often men left that area unguarded. Huntington didn't crumble, he did wobble backward for a few feet while she wobbled up onto hers. She towered over him and made the same arching blow downward to send him to the ground. His face had turned livid, colored with pain and fury. The growls she heard come from said he would heal faster and come after her like a beast. Nik lifted a nearby stone high overhead and dropped it onto Huntington's head, knocking him out briefly.

If they were going to get all Wolfed out on her, she was going to have to beast out on them to survive. She turned to see if Santos had regained ground and barely missed another punch to the face. Ducking under it she used the open advantage and tried to elbow him in the head. When her misbalance pushed her too far, she went with kneeing him in the stomach. Santos shoved back off her feet, throwing hard enough she hit the side of the Deputy's car. Feeling like she had been whipped, Nik had the wind knocked out of her once more. She slid along the side of the car landing half in and out of the door, her eyes squeezed shut, but heard clearly as Santos slammed it closed on her bad leg. She fell further onto the ground clutching onto the driver's seat. Nik opened her eyes in time to watch as Santos loomed over, with gleaming eyes as he swung the door toward her head.

"Stop!" Nik managed to cry out, while throwing her hands over her face. Desperately she gasped, "I know where Mars is!"

"Wait!" Huntington grabbed hold of Santos' arm. She stayed trembling, curled into the crevice of the car door as above her they communicated in silent glares. Finally, Huntington won out and stepped forward, opening the door a bit further. Nik slid further onto the pavement, nearly to lay flat on her back.

"What did you say?" asked Huntington, his normally boyish faced turned impassive like carved from stone and while blood poured on the right side from crown to collar bone. He spoke with carefully clenched teeth. "You know where Marsten is?"

"Yes," Nik answered crawling up on her knees. Evidently her adrenaline sped up her clear-headedness. If she kept them talking long enough, she might even heal enough to take them a second round. "He's being kept alive somewhere in Fairvale. For now."

"She's lying," Santos protested, wiping at his bloody nose. Nik grinned again, which was a mistake because it only antagonized him.

"No. No!" she climbed to her feet, her good arm outstretched desperately. "I'm a thief. Wouldn't it just be bad business ethics if all I sold were lies?"

Evidently this wasn't good enough. Even if Huntington believed her, Santos wasn't satisfied with this answer, he yanked her forward and threw her to the pavement by Huntington's feet. "How long have you known?"

Nik groaned and rolled onto her back but was met with a kicked to her side. She stayed on her stomach and tried to climb up onto her knees.

"Since the first night back in Beacon Hills," she mumbled over her pain. She was healing a bit quicker, but it didn't help that he had broken her ribs. "That night, the Monster killed my... Mac. Mars was supposed to meet her to sell her a rare Hunter's weapon. She missed check in, I figured her car crapped out again. But the next morning Mars called scared that she disappeared."

"Why would he call you?" Huntington shoved her lightly back against the car, just out of Santos reach. His frustration growing, "they're not a members of your pack."

"Honor among thieves maybe," she coughed around a laugh as she shrugged, clutching her bad arm to her chest, more to shield her injured ribs than to anything else. "Or maybe because she's my Mom. Why else would he feel obligated to call? When the Sheriff found her car, they thought it carjacking gone wrong because all her gear was gone. When I claimed her, I showed up to investigate what could be valuable enough to kill her over, but Mars always had a better idea of what was going on in Mac's head than she ever let me know. What I do know is the Monster wouldn't have wanted gear. It wouldn't have needed it, only Mars would have taken it if he were going to ground. After that, of course I had to look for him myself."

Half-truths.

But Mars contacted Nik instead of Kali (his Alpha), instead of Ennis (Mac's Alpha), instead of Deuc (Mac's Ex/Nik's Alpha) and before the Sheriff's Dept. (you know, the Authorities) and with a terrified stillness he warned her that her worse nightmare had come true. Her Mom's schemes finally caught up with her.

Whatever scared Marsten enough to make him go into hiding, whatever killed her Mom, she respected but only as long as it serviced her needs. Thieves were good at trading in truths but better at keeping secrets.

"You're going to tell me where he is now!" Santos lifted her by the hair and slammed her against the trunk, the car tittered back and forth on the curb. Dizziness overwhelmed her and kept her from focusing as she leaned onto her side.

"He's safer than in Beacon Hills anyway," she chuckled, grinding her teeth against pain. "That's the thing with sleight of hand. You've all been looking at this disaster while there are Monsters all over this County."

"Tell us where to find him or I'll claw the truth out of you?" Santos leaned his weight into her back, and he dug claws into her bruised ribs.

"Why? So, you can have him fight in a war for you? Don't you get it, if I tell you the whole truth, then what's the point in keeping me alive?" Whimpering, Nik sagged before she could manage to answer, buying herself more time.

With his claws in Nik's side Santos lifted her up and flipped her over onto her back. She stared wide-eyed up as he reached back, claws extracted with that same gesture that would normally leave him vulnerable for an upper cut, but she wasn't up for the task "-Wait! Wait! Not the face!" she cried out.

Huntington laughed at that, it was so uncharacteristic toward her belligerent nature, "you understand Nik, we might have to keep you alive, but we don't have to keep you in one piece."

"I get that," she coughed back a laugh a watched as Santos once more looked to Huntington, silently for permission for continue his barrage. "It's just my Ex really likes my face. You really don't want to piss them off," Nik nodded over Huntington's shoulder toward Herveaux just before they grabbed him by both sides of his back, kneed him in his tailbone, then growling, flipped him backward overhead before swinging him at Santos' face.

Nik took that as a sign to stop, drop and roll beneath the Deputy's car while waiting for the carnage to pass.

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Track 02 - Damn Your Eyes (Etta James cover) by Alex Clare

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Several minutes later the weight of the car rose and began to tug toward the roadside. Nik took that as a sign to crawl out. Aside from a few aches and damage to her clothes, she felt very much better about the evening overall.

Laid out unconscious and bloodied, Santos and Huntington were neatly lined up along the meridian. Blood-splatter and tone in a flimsy tank top, on lean legs cut off at short-shorts Herveaux stood healing, with eyes still colored bright and beaming gold. This was Ennis' spy: normally unseen but Nik grinned to see Herveaux's friendly familiar face. Nik thought she'd sensed Them on the sidelines while at the pub but figured Herveaux felt conflicted about stepping in until now. They always struggled with doing things without Ennis' permission but did it anyway.

That was both the relationships appeal and biggest problem. A spy and a thief could make wealth of everything in their relationship except trust.

"Do you really know where Marsten is?" Herveaux swiped at Their nose, then reached and pulled twigs from Nik's hair. Their expression was soft with relief and a smile came slowly almost unwilling across Their features. It seemed They were instructed to spy and stay uninvolved, Nik smirked in understanding.

"I've never had a reason to lie. It's just no one thought to ask me," Nik quirked a brow. Herveaux knew Nik well enough to figure she could do a lot of questionable things, lying wasn't one of them. Lying was Herveaux's forte and They boasted as much.

"So, you're keeping him captive," Herveaux sounded disapproving. They turned and walked back toward bodies. They jutted Their chin, a gesture for Nik to follow.

"I have no reason to do that either," Nik grunted while she helped lift Santos and carry him to the cruiser. It would be problematic to leave the bodies in the road and while figuring out what next to do it only made sense to keep the bodies in the Deputy's car which had a conveniently gated back seat. After locking the door Nik dusted her hands as if touching the hostages were somehow filthy. "Everyone keeps thinking the worst of it is happening here in Beacon Hills, they forget the whole of Beacon County has gone to shit. We're just in the eye of a storm."

"The eye of the storm is the calm part," Herveaux laughed.

"Mmhm," Nik groaned in acknowledgment, not recanting her statement in the slightest.

"You eventually going to tell Kali?" asked Herveaux, as They walked over to the motorcycle.

In reply, Nik shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and looked to her feet. She felt she still owed something to Marsten, not to mention he owed her since her Mom's car was suspiciously emptied. Until that got sorted out, her lips were sealed.

"So, you're just as bad as Santos?" Herveaux moved to stand in the way. Herveaux stood taller by a mere inch but there was no doubt They were the more intimidating. When They ground out Their words it sent chills down Nik's spine and caused her canines to grind. Their eyes bore into each other's as They demanded to know, "are you just trying to keep another player off the board, too?"

"It's war Herveaux." Nik frowned, she sounded fierce, but Herveaux could sense sadness radiating off of her. "Maybe it is a numbers game or taking players off the board." Suddenly, stepping nearer threw Herveaux's senses out of whack, all They could smell was Nik's sweat and pheromones. When Nik placed a hand on each of Their shoulders and leaned up to place a kiss on Their forehead, she closed Them off and all They could hear was the sighing breath close to Their ear as she pulled away. "Can you do one more thing for me tonight? Kitten, please don't fight."

When she eased back Herveaux's senses came flooding back and then noticed the street filled up with Deucalion's pack. Despite Nik's request as she stepped back, Herveaux's instinct had Them jumping forward, fangs bared and claws out.

At the top of Echo Lane stood in the center was an English man with dark brown hair and the devil's grin known as Deucalion. Stood beside him, with his hand on Deuc's shoulder stood Søren, hair clipped short and looking militant with glowing bright blue eyes lined with charcoal that made his fangs standout like gleaming knives. Flanked on the right side of the road stood Jonsen with dark skin and darker wilder curls, her growls cut through the night's chill. On the left side of the road stood Meyers, looking twitchy with anticipation. When Herveaux looked back to Nik, she stood beside the Deputy's car, shaking her head she mouthed the word 'please' and so she surrendered without a fight.

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Track 03 - About Her by Malcolm McLaren

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{Saturday: Midnight – Deucalion's House, The Hills}

"It's good we ended it your way," Deucalion said gratefully, to his thief with a voice full of pride. "Now we have the Sheriff's Department access, 3 Werewolves, their transports... and the Deputy's car."

"That part was incidental," Nik said meekly, rubbing at her sore healed ribs. "We should probably send that back."

"You are right about thinking small," he said in an undertone, "this was a much better score."

Nik only nodded, tiredness weighed on as she watched Søren and Jonsen drive the cruiser to the main house with Santos, Huntington and Herveaux locked up in the backseat.

"I'll copy the Deputy's keys for now. Then drive the car back into town," Meyers said, popping over into the conversation.

"Take Reíka with you," Deucalion instructed, "she needs something to do."

Meyers nodded and whistled with two fingers to get the blonde's attention. From the tree line, she looked doubtful but after following him to the motorcycle they took off toward town.

"Reíka? So, she uses that name?" Nik strolled with Deucalion through a shortcut on their property back into the main house. If the guys from Kali's pack had attacked any later, just a ½ mile off Echo Lane, the shortcut would have made their trap easier. But her drunk driving cut the chase off early, she just had to distract them with a little fisticuffs until her people caught up. The walk home through the greenway gave her a bit of clarity to process the night's events.

"Remember where you each began," Deucalion looked her over and there was something nostalgic in his candor. "She needs something more than any one person account for," he reminded. Nik nodded once. Deucalion never demanded or promised grand things, he gave them each the space to find potential within the pack. They built loyalty because promises weren't good enough, that kid, 'Reíka' was finding it through reinvention. Nik thought about Marsten hidden away, surrounded by strangers and wondered what Deucalion would think of her if he knew the whole truth. She thought about knowing her Mom, Mac was dead 2 whole days before Deucalion knew and wondered what loyalty that tested: Was it hers to Deucs? Mars or to Macs? Had it really save anyone any grief?

They took their time on the walk back to the house. The silent night gave her the space and time to process, then she asked, "Deuc? If you're going to take Herveaux to the basement- just, not the face?"

"Do you want to be there when we question Them?" Deucalion gave a light-hearted sound that was near laughter, but it was more for her benefit. He waited for her to catch up by the porch. The Deputy's car was already parked around the back, away from any unlikely passerby to see and waiting for Meyers and Reíka to drive it back to town. Deucalion knew Nik's loyalty was stretched between Herveaux and the pack. After all, Herveaux didn't have to come to her rescue, not to mention They were never meant to be tonight's target to begin with.

"When you exchanged my half-brother and his Fiancé for Reíka, I was there, and I didn't question it." Swallowing hard, Nik monologued her internal struggle aloud, "if you're telling me I have to be there when we receive Herveaux, I will be but if I could sleep off this hangover instead?" Her face was blank, but her breath was quick in her chest and her eyes large with heartache.

"My loyal Nikola," Deucalion brushed a hand along her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, uneasiness pressed down heavily on her. "You are free to do whatever you choose, always. I hope you know that." He meant the statement with every burdensome syllable. Nik nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from saying anything foolish.

When the sound of their friends on an incoming motorcycle interrupted them, she escaped into the main house and left her Alpha to teach his lessons to someone else.

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Track 04 - Somewhere by Sanders Bohlke

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

After adding the name 'Quint' to the Argent's victim's list, Tyhurst released the name to the Sheriff's Department, sure enough the kid had been added to a 'registry of missing teens,' but details were still vague. Sheriff Stilinski didn't like vagaries.

When a fully rested Jordan Parrish turned up with a sinister Box' of Joe, gallon coffee from Dunkin Donut, the Sheriff acknowledged 2 things; 1) the missing kid was the same age of his (previously missing) son meant moving the investigation to the garage, and 2) the night's rest was well-timed for a day off to grind at investigating at home. There wasn't a direct correlation from the murdered teen to the events from the last few days, but the timing couldn't be an accident.

"This boy, Quint and Derek Hale's body were the only victims posed," Parrish suggested. He played with the lip of his paper cup. It had been mutilated to the point of being paper mâché.

"Being dumped at the Hale House is obviously a statement." With intent eyes, Stilinski matched new evidence to old locations on the board. His frown deepened as he kept his voice controlled, "but as long as the Argents' man is giving us misinformation, we aren't going to figure out what the message is or to who?"

"You're sure Tyhurst is giving us misinformation?" Parrish leaned forward and his tone turned firmer.

Stilinski shook his head. "All the information he's giving us checks out but I'm certain what he's telling us isn't the whole truth." He sat back down on the lawn chair, dragging it back to the patio table that served as their new base of operation. The County map on the board had filled up with strings like tinsel on a Christmas tree, but this time around he felt as though they were getting somewhere.

"Tyhurst is an asset but relying on him is a liability. I saw the way he looked at the marks on the door. He recognized them. He's playing his cards close to the chest. He said the kid has shown up in a database, but the family won't release the whole name."

"Do you think that bares any relevance to the pattern?" Parrish studied the crude markings Stilinski redrew from memory. They didn't bring anything to mind, but Tyhurst wasn't the only one with connections. He thought about his Military connections and considered if there was anything of value there. If he could think of someone- so, he suggested as much.

Stilinski nodded in gratitude, but the upturn of his lips was short lived. "We're going to have to move forward as if it doesn't." He moved on, like so many times to their core motivation, their growing list of victims.

"Hey Dad," Stiles gave a knock-knock before popping his head into the garage door, he didn't wait for an okay to step in, "I'm headed over to Scott's."

The two leaned towards the door with discerning seriousness, Stiles didn't take offense. They'd accumulated too much to hide it all, so they'd intentionally positioned the board facing away from the doorway, and the folders marked 'CONFIDENTIAL' were off to the side.

"Alright son," he said after an awkward pause but the smile that followed was genuine. It eased his anxiety for his son to checked-in with his old man.

"Thanks Dad," Stiles flashed grinned. He hesitated at the door as if he wanted to say more but just smiled while practically hopping in place before he darted away, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.

"He's a great kid," Stilinski said abruptly.

"I don't doubt it," Parrish sat upright, with a quickly pressed smile across his face. He hadn't needed to ask how they were adjusting; it was stamped across his forehead and imprinted in the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"A trouble-maker."

"I've noticed."

"It's a little difficult getting back into the groove of things," he grimaced, re-living some bitterness. "The neighbors seem to be having a harder time of it then we are. Staring, excessively waving, and sometimes snapping pictures of him on their phones. It's everything I can do to keep him out of the papers."

Shuffling files in a failed attempt to refocus, he grabbed some notes Parrish handed over. He needed the work, not just because of his devotion to the town but because of his dedication to get his life back on track.

"So, it's everything you hoped it would be and more?" Parrish teased.

"As a Dad there is always more," the Chief grinned at that. He took a moment flipping through the notes of the victims. He no longer hesitated when seeing his wife's name among the dead and knew it was because Stiles was home. He looked up again at Parrish, who had gone back work and appreciated bringing the Deputy on board to his private project.

"As a Sheriff there will always be more as well," he conceded, and Parrish gave a grunt in acknowledgment. "I appreciate your help with balancing everything, but I think I might have to ask you a little more."

The Deputy looked up, acknowledging the stern 'Dad' tone he was now practicing more regularly, and Parrish's eagerness lost a bit of its shine.

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Track 05 - Kids by MGMT

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{Early Morning – Lakewood Neighborhood, on the way to McCall's House}

There were so many 'The Plans' going around Stiles had begun to lose track. But he felt his newest one trumped all, so he wanted an early start. It was a small blessing the guys hadn't stayed over at his house like originally planned. His Dad and Parrish taking up the 1st floor of the house made it evident.

Stiles didn't want to admit it but after their latest cheat with death, with Isaac's new lease on life, he wanted to put a pin in Cora's rescue 'Plan' but was not sure what the others' take on that would be. Not after he'd pushed for it so hard to begin with. He was not giving up, not ever but after Allison presented him the enticing photo of his Dad's investigation board, and the loss of his coveted notebook, Stiles wanted to reassess before proceeding.

Firstly, when he chased a lead right into the Hale House, he almost got his friends blown up, then swore not to get his friends in that situation again. Secondly, when he ran off alone and tried to investigate, he ended up strung up a tree and poisoned after promising he'd stay in town and safe, for a long, long time. So, where was the harm in a fresh perspective and maybe a little more insight from your friendly neighborhood Hunter.

As Stiles raced up the steps to the McCalls', he sensed something off. He caught up with Melissa at the front door as she headed out to an early shift, she met him happily, pleased to see his progress healthwise, but she let him know right away the boys were not home.

"They left before the sun came up," she sounded a little put out. "When I reminded them, the house wasn't a lacrosse field they decided to leave early to field practice." Melissa's eyes went from soft to narrow with discomfort, and Stiles he could hear the strain it took her to keep from complaining about the damage to her property. "You can probably catch up with them at the school."

Well then, that made it a little bit easier to avoid being secretive around the parents.

{Early Morning – BHHS, Lacrosse Field}

It was not the worst thing to catch up with them at the school instead. Stiles did still have to study up for the placement exam, even if they were still waiting on his transcripts. And he heard it from a birdy that a certain Argent and company had volunteered in the tutoring department. There were still a few hours before students would trickling into the library for that.

Until then Stiles easily found his brothers crushing each other on the lacrosse field, something a little more than entertaining. After a brief wave and grin, he settled down on a side bench to watch, occasionally shouting incomprehensible direction.

"Do you even know anything about lacrosse?" said Isaac, hands on his knees, keeled over and panting.

"Sure... like from when I was 7 or 8." He shrugged grinning, "basically, there is putting the ball in the net, and I don't have to be as crap as you two."

Isaac looked to Scott with mild agitation on his face.

"Stiles wants to join the team," Scott looked apologetic and tossed the ball back into the air, smacked it back into the air several times with the end of his lacrosse stick.

Isaac glared at him and stole the ball out of spite.

Stiles never quite explained why he arrived so early; he didn't want to spoil the moment. With their luck, which happened soon anyway when Isaac and Scott explained their sleepless night and early practice. Followed immediately by the request for Stiles to help teach Scott how to survive both with and without any Alpha.

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Track 06 - Is This The End by Brøthers

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"Come on, I only just figured it out," Scott squawked as he dove for cover.

"Simple as that, 'my Alpha's that Monster'," Stiles looked incredulous. He had grabbed up the lacrosse stick and insisted Scott stand as goalie. Ball after ball he swung nearer and nearer to Scott's head with vicious intent. Scott didn't have a hope in hell of catching one; in fact, he barely had a chance at dodging for his life. "Way to bury the lede!"

"This isn't learning maneuvers," Isaac offered lamely from the sidelines. Stiles gave him a silent glare to keep off unless he wanted to be under fire. After a harsh gulp, Isaac remained chastised and stared toward the end field.

"You should have called me, that's," THWHACK "all" THWHACK "I'm" THWHACK "saying!" Stiles grunted and dropped the stick to the ground once he ran out of sports equipment to hit, in a wise attempt to keep from hitting something else.

"I wanted to!" Scott dropped to the ground panting, having caught the last ball between his shoulder and the left edge of his helmet. He lay flat at twisted angle, collapsed under a mountain of sweat and lacrosse supplies. After a second to catch his breath, he leaned up onto his elbow and tore off his helmet to be heard clearer over the distance, "but by the time I could get a hold of you last night, you could barely stand, forget about talking!"

Stiles shook the comment off and tossed Isaac his lacrosse stick, he tried to refocus on his best-friend. Yet again, another milestone in Scott's transition and he had no one to help him through it.

"You're brooding," Isaac grumbled, as he drew alongside him on the bench. "It doesn't look good on you."

"Shut up," Stiles failed at trying not to smile. "What else happened while my back was turned? Any other near-death experiences I should know about?" The shot caught Isaac off guard while his gaze trailed towards the end of the field, where the trees and the running track collided.

"You're a riot, Stilinski." Isaac sniffed. It was kind of funny. Then he leaned forward and frowned remembering the other reasons for their early morning trip to the lacrosse field. "We're trying to work through some stuff, like figuring out if there's another new Alpha how many other Werewolves are in town, other than the ones that attacked us on Northbridge."

Stiles fell silent, a rarity, with a mouth parted slightly and brows knit tight he waited for a follow up.

"And why has this new Alpha decided to put me 6-feet under-"

"Jeez, another one who decides to friggin' announce the coming of the end like they're broadcasting the weather."

"I'm doing just fine," Isaac assured him. "And before you think about arguing, it was better that you stayed behind with your Dad and took care of him. If you came with me, we both would have just ended up pounded into the ground."

"You don'-! You don't know that," as his anxiety spiked, Stiles adamantly shook his head. He hadn't sensed Scott come up beside him until a calming hand clamped on his shoulder.

"Nothing that happened is your fault," Isaac craned his neck to toward Stiles', but the it didn't calm him. Instead, his expression looked like something caught between confusion and anger, he was trying to figure out a complex math equations in heavy traffic. "Tell me you get that."

"Then whose fault is it?" Stiles scoffed.

"Allison is looking into that. But at least we know it isn't someone we know," Isaac explained with surprising care. When did he start to feel comfortable dealing with the Argents? It seemed true what they said about near-death experiences, they did cause permanent damage due to lack of oxygen to the brain.

"You're saying it wasn't Jackson," Stiles didn't seem relieved or disappointed by the revelation. Stiles stared down at the hands clasped between his knees and wondered about his fever the night before. Maybe if he hadn't been so affected, he could have discovered as much- Maybe if their friends worked together they could have learned it before the Hunters?

"Upset?" at times, if there were people closer together physically, or closer to him emotionally, he had troubling sensing them out, and Stiles' stillness was certainly unfathomable to him.

"What? No." Stiles came back to the surface. "You've got Jackson going beast on a whim, a Monster climbing into Scott's dreams and this other Alpha prowling around school campus. There could be any other supernatural wandering around these grounds... I wonder what the Argents have figured out about that?"

At the earlier mention of Allison, Scott strove to remain calm. But the second mention of the Argents didn't fill him with wonder over her. Instead, there were thoughts of Kira, and his responsibility to keep her safe from them. He didn't like keeping secrets from his best-friends, but he also wasn't certain what her truth was yet. He sensed her speed, her strength, and the way she enjoyed feeling super-powered but something about her that was still off. His curiosity drove him to distraction.

"If you're going to suspect just anyone who has supernatural abilities you could throw Lydia into the mix," Isaac pointed out how ludicrous Stiles' speculation was.

Gazing over the racetrack, Scott muttered "there's more things in heaven and earth, Stiles, than you can dream of."

At that both Isaac and Stiles' heads whipped around, curiosity and amusement plastered across their faces. Scott took a moment to come back to attention, he met theirs stares with an impish grin.

"Studying Hamlet for your English Midterms?" asked Stiles.

"Yep," grinned Scott.

"Nice." Stiles considered, nodded his approval, and moved on.

"You're okay with us working with Allison?" asked Isaac. Stiles broke off from his brooding when he realized the question was not directed toward him.

"Yeah," Scott sounded like he had a frog in his throat. After a gulp, he realized he had clamped the head of the lacrosse stick enough to warp the shape, and the lacing sagged loose through it like a hobo's sack. "Yeah, I'll be okay," he insisted despite the evidence to the contrary. Scott worked slowly through the process of reshaping the lacrosse stick, reminding himself (without chastisement) that he couldn't afford to replace it and he couldn't afford to lose his cool at the mention of Allison's name.

"And that's another item on the list," Isaac looked to Stiles, a dark humor in his eyes. "Scott needs our help."

Stiles' eyes darted between the two and though he sensed the same cageyness from the night before, this time it was caked with a stench unfamiliar to Scott, "what's wrong with you? You smell terrible."

"Yeah, it's called heartbreak. About two billion songs written about it," Scott said glumly, after first taking a deep breath, he dropped the sports equipment and then he dropped onto the bench on Stiles' left. "Every time I think about her, I feel like someone is hitting me in the ribs with a hammer." When he spoke, he strained to keep just within the shackles of control.

"Logically," Isaac flipped over a ball on the head of his lacrosse stick, "we figured taking him out to hit a few balls might be smarter than keeping him locked up indoors."

"Alright, that works for right now but," Stiles paused, if his tone didn't convey enough of his worry certainly the gentleness that crept behind his dark eyes nailed it. Scott had been alone with this burden of change long enough, there was no way he would let him alone one second longer, "Scott you've been good without your Alpha for this long- now that we know the identity you've got to keep it together."

"I can't." Scott closed his eyes, the weight of this realization continued press in on him. He never had room for doubt before because someone beside him supported him so thoroughly.

"Of course, you can," Isaac assured him. Then he added with care, "just anchor yourself."

"Allison was my anchor," Scott rejected, his voice strained with agitation. It was obvious from the way while he looked shamefaced between the two, he never meant to come off as bitter. Just as he never meant to take out his hurt on them. He just felt lost in the thick of it.

"Dude, we're going to be here for you." Stiles spoke calmly, easily on behalf of both Isaac and him. Although it was a difficult thing to wrap his brain around 100%.

Raised without his Dad around, Stiles grew up among Werewolves and had no lack of Alpha presence in his life. He had no earthly experience where Scott was coming from. Even so, Stiles moved nearer and spoke calmer to his friend, undeterred by his agitated state. Because even if he was not 100% sure what was going to happen next, he 100% knew how to be Scott's best-friend. Although his breaths were still harsh, Scott didn't jump when Stiles slung an arm over his shoulder bringing them close together, butting their heads slightly.

"You're gonna get your heart broke, man." Stiles promised smugly which made Scott groan half in dismay, half in amusement as Stiles continued, "and then you are gonna be a better man because of it. We're going to help you see that because we're stronger together but, in the end, you gotta be your own anchor."

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Track 07 - Help Me Close My Eyes by Those Dancing Days

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{Early Morning – BHHS, Lacrosse Field, Stadium Seats}

The only time special exceptions had been made for Liam Dunbar they came with negative exemptions. When he transferred into BHHS it was because he had been kicked out of Devenford Prep for violent outbursts, but those same violent outbursts brought him to Coach Flinstock's attention. Sure, Liam really liked lacrosse, but he didn't like the fact that he hadn't scored a place on the team because of talent. And Liam definitely didn't like that he sat on second line.

Every spare breath, muscle and moment he dedicated to lacrosse in hopes of earning the approval from senior members of the team, in hopes of getting their support and maybe impressing Coach enough to get called into a game because of talent, not because they needed a ringer.

After the usual 3 mile run on Jogger's Trail nearby the Preserve, behind the University, Liam headed into the field extra-early to work on this aim playing 'Wall Ball' against the closed goal cage. Pretty much what he did every Sunday except this around, despite however improbable, 2 of his teammates made it onto the field earlier than he had. Out of both of the Cyclones Co-Captains, Liam responded better to Scott McCall's easygoing natural than to Jackson Whittemore's brutishness. Liam was already pretty demanding of himself as it were, so it helped to have someone taper his temper. But turning up and discovering someone had swallowed up Liam's opportune moment at the opportune place with the opportune mentor sat raw with him.

After struggling with his anger issues since the beginning of the term, Liam aimed to catch the interest of any senior player to practice up with him, but no one had the patience. McCall's even temper would have made an ideal match but whenever Liam mentioned something like it, Scott sheepishly explained home life never left room for something like training together. Then Scott would make a vague promise for a future time there could be something else they might do, like spot each other when they weight-train or maybe speak up for him to Coach. With that, Scott would backpedal out of the conversation before he finished the sentence.

Yet, Isaac Lahey had been on the lacrosse team barely 2 months when Co-Captain McCall took him under his wing. Soon they would disappear from endurance runs, just the 2 of them, and turn up like human tumbleweed 20 minutes later. Then they would get into fights at school they would be inseparable the next day. They were practically double-dating with Allison and Lydia from what everyone in the lunchroom gossiped about. It was like something out of a buddy sitcom. He tried to sit well with all of it because Isaac did have natural talent at lacrosse (that all Liam's sleepless nights of practice couldn't match up to), and to add to that Isaac was a sophomore, seniority simply got you places and Liam wanted to get to those places on his own merit. So, he repeated tried to convince himself to accept it, all while he trained even harder to sweat the bitterness out.

From under the bleachers, he watched the wiry sporadic technique the Sheriff's estranged son brought to the sport he obviously didn't understand, and Liam choked down an intense feelings of envy. He couldn't tear his eyes away from witnessing Co-Captain McCall and Midfielder Lahey take some non-teammate under their wing effortlessly. Liam wanted to wreck something, but he couldn't even look away.

An hour in, the team's goalie chanced upon him, when walking from student parking to the team's entrance after his boyfriend dropped him off. While leading him away from his obsession and toward the locker rooms, Danny offered words of insight; he told Liam there were plenty of worse things to deal with than feeling overlooked, like being the center of attention. They watched Jackson's truck swerving into two spaces in student parking after narrowly missing a Kawasaki speeding out toward the road. Danny looked particularly perturbed, but Liam felt utterly unconvinced.

Overhearing this, Coach Finstock had entirely different outlook and felt a crushing need to remind Liam that crazed intensity is what got a freshman on the team to begin with. The incident at Liam's old school that nearly destroyed his old Coach's career, his new Coach considered a tryout for the team. Not to mention karmic retribution for an old grudge between Coaches. The intensity of Coach Finstock's spite surprised even Liam, who understood bitterness all too well.

With that, Liam replaced his choking feelings of jealousy with ambitious pounding thoughts, to prove his worth as more than token of anger, added to the last quarter or as a sidekick to a mentor. The next time all eyes were on Liam Dunbar, it would be because of greatness he achieved on his own terms.

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Track 08 - What You Need by Flume

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{Early Morning – BHHS, Natatorium, Pool Side}

It could only be assumed Allison and Scott were one of those couples who texted each other good morning and 'god bless you' when they sneezed. At least it seemed that way from how Allison kept checking her phone. Eventually, Lydia texted Scott and Isaac, explaining they should head into 'STUDY' just in case there was anything they'd like to go over before class, in case they wanted to speak with the Hunter. After everything, she and Allison had talked about the night before, she wanted to be close enough to help but not to push an agenda. Lydia sent a second message alone to Scott, concerned with his break with Allison.

· "ttyl. I'd make a bad buffer anyway."

From her cloistered attire, her hair back, curl up in her favorite flannel, transport into the quiet normalcy of her tablet, it was obvious Allison didn't particularly want to talk. She wanted to work. Lydia could respect that.

After dropping Allison off in front of the school she drove around to student parking, waited long enough for the turnover between athletics using the field, to slip into the field entrance. The fickle winter weather made every Coach eager to get their teams onto the field every spare moment. It meant players were going through often enough locking up was not a practical habit. She had anticipated Coach Helisek's lapse in judgment and found the swimming pool area shut down but not locked down.

At the place where her life blinked out half a day ago, Lydia examined the scene for an answer. She wasn't the sort of person who believed in a bigger purpose or grand destiny. From her perspective, didn't feel lucky to be alive, she felt like whoever was trying to hurt the people she cared about was damn unlucky she was still around to ruin their plans.

While Lydia slowed toward the corner where she woke bruised and spewing chlorine water, she felt her chest tighten. As if she were once again underwater, starting to lose her steadiness along with her breath. If she intended to get to the bottom of her mystery savior, she couldn't afford to run away and let anxiety overpower her now, could she? When she dropped her cross-body purse to the ground beside her, it sent an eerie echoing sound throughout the room. When the far away sounds of lacrosse practice mixed with sounds of her heels clanging on the deck, the echo reminded her vaguely of the sounds of Isaac running through the woods.

After sitting on the edge of the pool, Lydia considered recent clues; there'd been sightings of new Alpha and some more supernaturals bold enough to come onto the school grounds. There was still her working theory of threatening and Monstrous Alpha out there with influence over her Beta friends, she'd tabled that a while ago. Maybe it was time to bring that back to light. Maybe someone wasn't even in control of their actions yesterday. Before she knew it her bare feet slipped soundlessly beneath the surface of the water, swaying back and forth. The soothing optical illusion of being close and far made her think clearer for the first time in a while. The altercation in the woods couldn't have been an attack, not in the way everyone perceived it. Even if Isaac's assault was what she sensed and saw in her vision, it didn't seem like a murder she was witnessing. With everyone's heightened emotions and her inexperience as a Banshee who would believe her? In fact, with only a weird watery idea, she hardly believed it herself.

Disrupting her peace of mind, causing her to kick out and sit back, Lydia reached over to see who else texted her this morning.

· I heard if you add an excuse with an apology than you're probably just going to do it again, so I'm sorry about this.

· But then, you DID say I needed practice apologizing so here goes nothing.

Stiles. Typical.

Lydia considered replying that 'discussing the dynamics of an apology was not, in fact, an apology for trying to manipulate her'. Not that it didn't make her chuckle, vaguely. She was not ready to deal with Stiles just yet, because in truth he could mess with her perpetually and 99% she would let him. (The 1% it would just be to keep him on his toes.) That realization hurt more than the act of manipulation, so maybe a little distance could be good for now. Remembering Allison's expression when they talked of Stiles the night before, and a flicker of concern bloomed in her chest. She told herself it was pity.

When Lydia climbed to her feet and tugged her purse strap over her sore shoulder, she remembered there were still things she wanted to look into while everyone was preoccupied with studies or practice. As long as her Beta friends' reliability was in question and her Hunter loyalty towards to her family, she wanted to keep her self-scrutiny secret for a little while.

When her phone buzzed again, (and again and again) she managed to walk without tripping as she read each text but replied to none of them. She couldn't imagine how to explain (without coming across as a hypocrite) things had to be this way.

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Track 09 - Ffunny Ffrends (Naked and Famous Remix) by Unknown Orchestra

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{Morning – BHHS, Top Floor, Library}

The library reeked of desperation, the repairs prevented any study sessions on Saturday, which doubled the expected attendance for a Sunday cram session. The stress of having midterms begin the next morning made it all that much easier for Stiles to slip in among the masses.

Mr. Harris insisted Stiles sign-in of course, which he did without fuss. It wasn't a deceit since Stiles had to study up for a placement exam later that week but when he flustered to be assigned a tutor, even his fast-talking didn't get him around Mr. Harris' dour disposition (especially since the first impression he had left on the man was Friday's detention).

Of course, just as she finished her first Starbuck of the day, Allison spotted his bumbling entrance before he could catch her removed seating on the balcony. So, she offered to tutor, and waved him up toward her. His attempt at finding Lydia had been thwarted by Allison's presence. A thousand questions danced through his mind (of course one of them being where he could find Lydia, but he could get to that) he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.

"Sweet," Stiles said dropped into the seat across from her. He flipped through the notebooks she had on the table while she continued to poke at her tablet. He commented on the great view, observing access to every entry point while at the same time keeping the wall behind them to reduce a chance at surprise attacks.

"It's not surveillance. This is Lydia's reserved seating. Don't look too disappointed you only found me," Allison half-jested after putting her tablet to sleep. When Stiles stared at her startled, she smiled lightly and then pushed a Human Anatomy textbook towards him. She told him sincerely, she was there to study, "so go on quiz me."

Stiles flipped through pages she had marked, divided with lined paper and desperate markings. After a few Q&A's Stiles grew upset. "This is what you're up to?" her marked frustration with the material frustrated him. "How am I supposed to catch up to this material in a day?"

Allison covered her mouth to keep from laughing, "and this is why we study."

Stiles shook his head, as someone trained to keep her emotions in check, she did a damn good job of reflecting one thing. Disappointment.

He analyzed her then after a long pause, sighed, "you're doing a good job."

It was obvious their topic of conversation had changed without her knowing. Allison stared at him unblinking, her eyes went tender, and she gnawed on her lip to keep it still.

Stiles looked around, not because he imagined someone would overhear them, but because he felt uncomfortable. He imagined that she had a million things to say. He certainly felt he had a million things to say, but without any feedback this was going to be a weird conversation. Not only had he never become friends with a Hunter before, but he had never had a sit-down heart-to-heart with his best-friend's ex before and he was not sure he was doing this right. He scooted his chair closer under the desk, tucked his hands between his knees, and hunched further into himself to keep his voice low.

"I get why you called it off with Scott. It was a bold choice and the right thing to do."

"fuck you," she whispered like it was a secret. Allison didn't say it with any anger, she said it like he had hurt her, but he sensed the relief coming off of her like a wave.

"Yeah, okay." He breathed out and nodded, accepting that. "Now your turn."

Allison tilted her head and folded her arms across her chest while she considered the prospect.

"6 years. Where have you been?" with that her expression went from introspective to haughty with a smirk. "I'm talking location, not metaphysical."

"New Mexico," Stiles said after a beat. Shaking his head, he leaned back a bit, narrowed his eyes, and wondered not for the first time how it was she went undetected for so long when everything about her screamed crafty little witch. "Why was it you took the photo of my Father's investigation board in the kitchen?"

Allison shrugged, "instinct." She leaned upright and pulled her Android out of her back pocket, making a gesture of goodwill to text him the photo straight away. He yanked out his Samsung and stared at the phone, willing his service to work quicker.

The moment he got the photo he zoomed up on it and started to analyze it, memorize it. He knew he wouldn't delete this and there would be no gesture of throwing it into the fire, not this time.

"Has Scott seen this?" he asked without looking up.

"I'm not sure," she said, frankly. With her Android out as well, Allison decided to follow Stiles' example and look through her copy of the picture. She was not sure what he was catching on first glance, possibly not the same things she had seen after staring at it dozens of times. She wanted to question him, but it didn't feel like the right time. "It's not likely. He avoided your house and even when we went through the kitchen, he didn't like looking at documentation of the attacks. He wouldn't have looked at it for more than a second. He definitely would have tried to forget about it. I think it reminds him too much of, you know, his own incident."

Finally, Stiles looked up, all stillness and seriousness on his face, "did you show this to your family?"

Allison gave it a split second's thought, then shook her head no. It honestly never occurred to her to share it with them.

He let out a soft breath that sounded like a scoff, it was more in disbelief than relief, "thanks."

Allison wanted to say 'anytime' but knew she couldn't promise that to him even though she wanted to. Instead, she shrugged and shoved her phone back into her jeans.

"You spent 6 years in New Mexico, you left everything behind and say you never planned on coming home. It must have been pretty comfortable where you were," Allison said questioningly.

Stiles looked amused and put his phone down on the table, the line once again being blurred between this family and that family. "It was home."

"Derek couldn't have raised you," Allison implied.

"Nope," Stiles scoffed. "Not in a million-million years. Let me ask you something, Allison. Why are you asking this now? Why not when you were attached to Scott's hip?"

"I don't know. I guess because I'm not like Scott or Lydia, and I don't doubt you are going to stick around," she considered the question. For a moment she went back to flipping through the notebooks on the desk and Lydia's genius notes on how to get through Mr. Harris' Human Sciences went flying by. "But we don't have a past between us to rely on and I'm not a very trusting person to begin with, but I think we're the same like that." Her eyes flicked up to catch the way he angrily glared at her, knowing she said was true. "We are surprisingly good liars. And I think we're the same in other ways too. But when it comes to caring about those two... there's nothing we wouldn't do."

"Yeah, you'd kill for them, wouldn't you?" he tried to sound easy, but his voice came across gruff. He looked out over the balcony, eyeing the exits out of anxiety before he looked back to her.

Allison nodded. She suspected his answer if she were to ask the same of him, but she wouldn't. She had questioned Werewolves before, but she had had the benefit of a 'Meeting Room' built with Hecatolite in the walls.

"You were really young when the Hales took you in. Isaac and the rest of them wouldn't bond with the Pack for at least for another 4 or 5 years, so you must have been really happy with the Hales until then. Or else you would have tried to come home no matter what the circumstances. Why can't you just tell Scott and Lydia that?" Allison knew enough of Shapeshifting that during the first transformative experiences, the craving to go home, to go someplace safe is so strong, young Werewolves had been known to terrorize entire towns.

Stiles couldn't get used to a Hunter knowing him better than his Werewolf best-friend. He sucked his teeth, "and you? You must have kept Scott really happy during his first time? That... that sounded a lot less smutty in my head."

"It was tough with Scott," Allison chuckled. "He was scared so that made it worse, but we found an abandoned old subway station at the edge of town to lock ourselves up in for the night. After the first time he trusted himself more, we had worked it out and it became less intense." Stiles looked skeptical but nodded anyway, "see. I just mean don't you think it would bring you some sort of relief, or them to know you weren't in unhappy or in danger?"

"Every once in a while," Stiles said subconsciously rocking in his seat, "we heard about other Hales out there. Their stories weren't always great, some of them only found out they could change because of puberty hit. Some were lost in the system because no one knew how to deal with them. Or maybe threatened and in hiding, terrified at being discovered as a Werewolf and everyone in the Homestead were crazed to bring them back safely. There was supposed to be a system but if everyone feels anxious about being there, I never got how that meant safe. If that meant safe than why were there still Hales in hiding, you know? I don't know, after all this time growing up in their pack I still don't know much." He scratched his jaw in thought and realized he had rambled and not really answered the question at all, "was I happy? Yeah. Safe? After you are run off a cliff, suspended pinned in a car and left for dead when you are 10, safe is relative."

"I've killed once," Allison spoke honestly. Stiles shuddered and snapped to look at her with a startled expression. She gulped thickly as she clarified. "Actually, I had helped kill them. It was a Berserker. Once someone's been turned into a Berserker, they're not a person anymore. When you realize they cannot be brought back from being a mindless monster threatening to kill their own family, threatening to kill my partner, it makes me a defender not a murder. It's about perspective." Allison leaned forward onto her elbows and when she did, a necklace came loose from her flannel and knocked against the tabletop. She picked at the ordinate emblem nervously with her fingernails while she looked at him her voice steady, "telling the people close to you does take the burden off of you."

After a long moment Stiles let out a tense breath in a low whistle. "That is a helluva game changer Allison," he said lightly and came to lean forward on the table. She shrugged trying to seem light about it, but her mood felt heavy.

"Fine. The truth is the pack didn't want me to come home. They were afraid for my safety," Stiles gave a weak smile and folded his shaky hands on the tabletop to steady them. "I would get these flashes of anger at the idea of coming back and finding out my Dad might have, you know re-married or even made a new kid, and that I was just a distant memory. Maybe I wanted to come back sometimes, but I couldn't hold my anger in and the Hales could take the hits my family here couldn't. She was teaching me to keep it together and then it was too late. Talia got sick, my second Mom died just like that, cancer. Fucking hilarious."

Allison reached over and squeezed his hands. As a trained soldier she had prepared herself for violent deaths, but sickness was not something she considered. Stiles looked to where their hands joined and stared at it like it was a strange phenomenon.

"It's alright. It was a while ago," he assured her, although he squeezed back with a tenderness that seemed to say otherwise. "It just bothers me that everything she taught me about family made me realize I keep being crappy to both of my families."

"You know, you really are good at bullshitting," Allison said after a moment and smiled softly.

Stiles took a moment to look artfully offended. "Which part?"

"For one," her shoulder lifted in an awkward narrow gesture of apology, "playing up the comparison to Peter Pan. You might as well have said you flew up to your house, there was a new boy, and the window was locked closed on you."

"Damn, I didn't think I laid it on that thick," Stiles suppressed a smile. It was Aunt Kate's crappy comment comparing his pack members to 'Lost Boys' that gave him the idea. There was sincerity behind his anxiety and anger over coming home, but he had hoped Allison would have read it as something pitiable instead of something principled.

"You're a Werewolf who bailed on his family because you wanted to protect them," she grinned briefly but petted his hand a tad roughly. "Try to remember you're talking to a Hunter who just broke up with her Werewolf boyfriend to protect him from her lethal family. I'm not judging. I promise."

"Fine," he laughed a little, finding himself in a rare moment in short supply of words.

"I know they didn't keep you there. You were terrified and thought you'd grow out of being a coward," she bit her lip in consideration before launching onward in supposition. "Being a Werewolf doesn't change your emotions it just made you feel them stronger. Becoming braver never happened for you, did it? This whole incident with Derek getting kidnapped in Beacon Hills forced your hand, didn't it?"

Stiles nodded, this was something he had gone over in his head a million times before. "I should have been helping bring other Hales home and I should have been helping bring my Dad peace. I was just too afraid to know how to do any of that until the moment this chance came up."

"But none of that is why you didn't tell Isaac about Beacon Hills?" She realized.

"Nope," his mouth made a pop with the letter P at the end of the word.

"Did you tell anyone in your Hale pack about your family in Beacon Hills?" her face pinched with curiosity.

Stiles' mouth turned crooked as he chewed in display his discomfort. There was no way in hell he wanted to talk about it then, not that he felt comfortable talking about it now. Either Hunters were incredibly good at extrapolating information, or maybe Allison's trust was invaluable.

"Not even Talia. She died thinking I was a failure, too, I'm sure," he admitted.

Crushed by his admission, she kept her fingers pressed into the pulse of his hand. Werewolves might have their abilities to sense the emotions of another, but Hunters could read others in another way. She could feel his pulse jumped with the talk of Mothers which only made sense.

"You know, parents tend to let their kids off for a lot of stupidity," Allison said gently patting his hand as she released her hold. She fondled her necklace before she tucked it back under her shirt. She couldn't help remembering the theft of her Mother's access to the Argent bestiary. She could only hope her Mother forgave her for the act if she ever found out.

"No kidding," Stiles scoffed, a little too loud. He received a dirty glare from nearly everyone in the library. It didn't help that Allison laughed at his laugh. For that alone Stiles brought her back near to him across the tabletop. "Look at how my Dad accepts that Isaac is my foster-brother. No question, no documentation, no problem."

Allison hadn't actually thought of that.

His face scrunched up in a stray thought, "actually I'm beginning to think he even likes him a little better than me."

"Really", she scoffed. "Then why is Isaac staying at Scott's?"

Stiles had given this a lot of thought when he woke up without his foster-brother under his roof. He didn't want to admit it made him feel insecure but instead gave it the theory it deserved. Scott needed all the post-break up support he could get. It almost seemed hilarious that Allison hadn't considered that.

But there was another reason.

"I guess," Stiles shrugged affably "because Isaac wants to give my Dad and me some time getting to know each other again. To know how we fit as a family. Without Mom. Plus, it's good for Scott and Isaac."

She looked doubtful, it didn't help that Stiles kept making faces because he didn't seem to know how to hold down an expression of sincerity. "I think they just like it", Allison added.

"I think they're feeling each other out", Stiles sniffed.

"I think they're feeling out how they fit as a family around you," Allison gave it some thought. Stiles nodded.

"Like I said," Stiles shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "I think it's good for them."

"Like this is good for us?" she looked on amused, crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "You're just as interested in me as I'm in you. You are not just anyone. You are Scott's best-friend. He trusts 2 people in the world. His Mom and a guy he hasn't seen since he was 10."

"He trusts Lydia," Stiles challenged.

"I'm not sure," Allison wished she felt otherwise, but she had heard Scott deny it more than once. Too many times she'd seen the way Scott reacted when she suggested they talk to believe otherwise.

"He does," Stiles insisted in a low irritable tone. He took on a stance identical to her to the effect stubbornness. "He just doesn't know that he does. And he trusts you, too. He told me he felt..." Stiles struggled for a way of rephrasing the things Scott said in private without betraying Scott's trust, "sensitive to the effects of the Moon and he has on-"

"Scott doesn't have menses," Allison groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Please stop talking like a tampon ad."

"Right," Stiles leaned back in his chair with enough force to cause it to scrape the ground. "I'll do that back in time, where I will now travel so I can scrub my mind clean that this ever happened."

"I knew, from the beginning not that we talked about it. I'm not sure about now," she sighed and felt her inside deflate. Since the breakup she tried not to reflect on their more intimate moments. Nothing of a sexual nature but those quiet, shared moments like when they lay on the roof of her car and they talked about nothing and everything and he wasn't the wolf, and she wasn't a hunter, but they were unafraid and in love.

"You knew from the beginning? It's some Hunter thing, right?" Stiles asked.

"A girlfriend thing," she scoffed lightly, "that's how we learned to trust each other. We just understood each other, before he ever got bit."

"Oh. Right." He remembered at that moment his brother in all-but-blood moped somewhere on the lacrosse field, because this girl did exactly what Stiles wanted her to do since he first set eyes on her. Allison separated herself from his best-friend, for Scott's protection and Stiles could sense how it tore her up inside. Not just that but from the moment they met, he had been watching the slow decline of everything she loved, every delicately constructed thread of her life. "So sorry my foster-brother outted you as being a Hunter." Stiles said quickly but on second thought was unsure if it was true.

"Actually, I'm not." Allison shook her head. Even if it cost her relationship in the long run. It was inevitable and it could have gone so much worse and violent and deadly.

"Good." Stiles added smugly "That's- I like that you said that. First 100% honest thing you've said in this study group."

"Thanks," she snorted delicately, laughing as she flipped over some pages in a notebook, remembering that they were in fact supposed to be studying. She noticed the way his eyes glanced at his phone without touching it, as if expecting it to hop up at him and give off an announcement. "You didn't come here to just study either. You don't have to pretend to be an idiot just to try and get on Lydia's study group."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm not pretending at anything!" he thrust a finger in the air to punctuate his statement. "I just think it's rude to not reply to a guy after he leaves you a few- 30 texts."

"I think I'm not the only one who has to work out their trust issues," Allison didn't look up from the notebook she flipped through, obviously not reading. Stiles looked to her curiously. "I mean if there's anything yesterday taught us, it's that relationships based on secrets only leads to more secrets. And how stable is that? It's horrible, isn't it?" she rolled her eyes to punctuate her point, then gave a gentle smile.

"You... are a jerk." Stiles shook his head and dropped a textbook on top of his cellphone to block it from stay out of sight as he went on to pretend to study along with her. "What is it you're pretending not to know?"

Allison shrugged, handed him notebook and asked him to quiz her. He refused. She insisted if he quizzed her for 10 minutes, she would answer more of his questions.

"Lydia disconnects sometimes," she finally explained sympathetically. "When she's working things out. You guys are just worrying her so much, but you more than most. Now, 10 more minutes," she then insisted. He breathed out a huff in offense.

Stiles mock-gasped in exasperation with the academic blackmail she held over his head, the goddamn useful academic blackmail the horrible Hunter-lady was using. He never knew a lady as sinister as that.

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Track 10 - Leave A Trace by CHVRCHES

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{Early Morning – BHHS, Running Track}

Since the BHHS facilities were open for athletes on the weekend, Kira intended to take full advantage of it. Not just because Coach Helisek felt her growing team spirit was the best kept secret their athletic department had in years (which he was eager to exploit) but because the more awkward her parents were around her since the roadside accident, she was looking for every excuse to get out of the house.

Even though there wasn't a meet on Sunday, Helisek told her she could use the track to practice. That 'team spirit' might not have motivated her to explore her weird new abilities if it hadn't been for the boys' voices drifting through the wall into the rather empty girl's locker room. Their whispers weren't the same as her secretive parents or being blown off by Jackson. The encouraging sounds of jovial, Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey joking around with lowerclassmen, distracted her from the track. She enjoyed running. Like really, REALLY enjoyed running but she had yet to learn restraint. And the moment her eyes drifted towards the Lacrosse team, she sped right off the track and tripped head over heels into the shrubbery at the edge of the field. It figures super speed didn't come with super brakes.

With a bruised ego and a bruised bottom, it just made sense to give up and go over to the field and watch before really getting hurt. She didn't bother to change out of her track suit, only tugged on a hoodie and lightly jogged toward them trying to catch McCall's eye without being too obvious. She wondered if it was too soon to cash in on talking privately. From the bright-eyed grin Scott flashed her before being knocked over by a teammate she could only assume he had. Not only did super speed not come with super brakes, but it did also not come with the super ability to stop being clumsy.

Coach Flinstock was furious at her for being a distraction while Coach Helisek was delighted she turned out. (Under these circumstances, Assistant) Coach Helisek insisted she stay and behind the benches and where players switched off and checked their equipment. Soon enough Scott made an excuse to run over to her, grinning and all.

"Kira, you're here!" he said delightedly.

She froze, then said instead of hello, "you remembered my name."

Scott looked baffled then fumbled onto the bench in front of her and pretended there was something wrong with his shoes, tying and retying them. "Of course, I did. Aside from the couple of classes we have got together there was, you know, the incident in the woods."

"Of course!" she flushed, embarrassed, and shook her head. "This is just really a lot to take in."

Scott froze and read the frustration in her embarrassment. "Did you think I would pretend not to know you? Like-" he made an off-handed gesture to make it seem like something blew away in the breeze.

After a regrettable moment, she nodded in uneasiness.

"Oh," he said then sat a bit upright, forgetting the guise of tying his shoes. Flinstock yelled something about talking to his girlfriend later, which he just didn't hear. "I wouldn't do that," Scott said, frankly.

"Me neither," she agreed quickly to have something to say back before she realized there was not really a need. True to his word he seemed to not mind her presence despite knowing something was deeply wrong with her. Kira's smile slid from shy to tight, "Coach is coming this way."

Scott didn't look away, but his back got stiff as a rod, "can you stick around after practice?"

She nodded briskly and drew further and further back terrified as Coach loomed overhead. Kira definitely saw the advantages to controlling their special abilities with the way Scott dodged the Coach's swing to his head. Kira saw the restraint Scott had when handing off shots to other players when he could very well have made the goal himself.

If she couldn't even run a straight-line at full strength, Kira wondered how it was, he managed to run among so many other players, with so much force and not mess up. Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising. How had she forgotten Jack Whittemore was the other Co-Captain of the Cyclones or that he, like she and McCall were special and not the most reliable when it came to self-control. Having a competitor like that on the team, you'd have to build self-control. As she was rationalizing that, suddenly a skirmish broke out on the field, McCall on one end of it Whittemore on the other. A wild lacrosse ball came flying into the stands.

Kira acted without thinking, relying on innate instincts. She yanked up a lacrosse stick from the heap of equipment beside her, flipped it upright and caught a fly ball one handed before it struck the face of Lydia Martin where she sat two rows back, innocuously taking stats down on her phone.

The reactions all around her were a mixed bag; Coach Helisek cheerfully turned to Flinstock and said "see, I told you! That's my star runner!" To which Coach Flinstock responded by shouting at her, "Hey! Have you ever played Lacrosse before!?" Scott looked grinning with pride. Jackson looked startled to discover her there. Lydia's glare was probably the most telling, it drew her two-rows nearer and then they said nothing at all.

Kira dropped the stick in alarm, shook her head in response to Coach Flinstock's question, gulped thickly and then sat silently onto her bench nest to Lydia. She was determined to will herself back to into the invisibility of just one week earlier.

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Track 11 - Teenage Rhythm by GRMLN

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{Meanwhile – BHHS, Lacrosse Field}

"Hey!" Jackson called to Isaac, despite Isaac's actively expressed attempts to ignore him. "Looks like your boyfriend's cheating on you." The titters around him bothered Isaac more than they should have. Isaac knew Jackson was not involved with his attack in the trees a day earlier. At least his brain knew that.

But his nerves said something else entirely. Isaac wanted very much to be a team player, but their team was becoming fractured. The Cyclones teammates were turning into either bullies or you know, rule followers. But off the lacrosse field there was a split, Werewolves and Non-Werewolves which was weird because Isaac was not 100% where his loyalties lie.

Sure, Isaac grew up with Stiles, but Stiles was pretty much loyal to himself first. Then there was Allison who was a fighter for all the people she loved, and she just happened to love Werewolves. Then there was Scott who was great to him- along with Lydia who could be horrible to him but they both made him feel welcome when no one else did. Not to mention he just died so Isaac didn't exactly have a category onto himself, not to mention his chance at a 2nd chance of life came with the torment of reliving the act of dying every time he tried to sleep. Suffice to say, things were pretty crappy in his head and when they left the McCall's in the early AM's he thought burning out his frustrations on the lacrosse field would be ideal, but he hadn't account for Jackson. Or for all the resentment Isaac carried for the lizard-man even if Jackson didn't remember whatever he did in his Kanima form, he still did bad, bad things.

In Isaac's restless conflicted brain, it confirmed his carnal urge to rip out his throat, even if there were like 20 or so witnesses.

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"Scott!" Lydia screamed, looking toward the field.

Without hesitation Scott swung around in the direction of her eyeline and raced, too late toward where Isaac threw himself at Jackson. Amidst a field filled with lacrosse players. With Jackson's dodging instead Isaac misaimed himself at Danny. At the last moment Jackson grabbed hold of his best-friend's right arm and yanked him, hard out of the line of fire. Jackson turned back to Isaac and jumped him from behind, punching at his still helmeted head, hard enough to leave a dent. Several other teammates tried to stop them but were only thrown back, when Scott arrived, he tackled Jackson and pinned his arms behind his back and screamed at Isaac to stop. He screamed his name with such force everyone around them shuddered.

Lydia and Kira watched on gasping.

"Did you see that?" Lydia asked.

"Lydia," Kira said candidly, "I think everyone saw that."

Lydia gave her an irritated glare, not a hurtful one just a disappointed on before she ran around the bench and onto the field.

Kira watched on, biting her lip. She maintained her ground and even stepped back a few feet. She didn't have the nerve to go nearer, for fear that somehow, she too would be exposed.

.

"I should suspend you!" Flinstock yelled into Isaac's face. "The both of you!"

"Coach!" Scott protested, standing shoulder to shoulder with Isaac, "I wasn't even here!"

"Exactly," he raged, "What sort of Captain takes all the glory but none of the responsibility?"

"Coach," Jackson broke in, he interrupted, his tone surprisingly tenderly, "it was my fault. I goaded him. I injured Danny." He looked over toward where Coach Helisek, their resident expert in sports' injuries tended to Danny's arm and Jackson looked mortified.

Isaac and Scott looked to one another in disbelief. There was no way anyone would believe Jackson's story and yet - "fine."

Coach shook his head in disappointment. In a rare moment of earnestness, "look, I appreciate teammates sticking together but you can't just turn on each other because you've had a tough couple of days. We need each other out there. We need each other's backs because pretty soon we are going to be facing off some real assholes. Can't you save the murderous impulse for them?" after an awkward pause he added, "or at least try?"

"Sure Coach." They agreed in an awkward off-beat almost unison.

"Meanwhile," Flinstock hesitated and looked amongst the three of them, "McCall would you get the hell out of here so I can deal with these two nitwits!"

"Oh," Scott cringed and after casting Isaac a glance of sympathy he ran from the scene.

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"Danny!" Lydia called out as she dropped to her knees beside him. He groaned in pain as he rolled onto his back. The Coach tried to take more of his gear off, but Lydia had much more experience than he did pulling off a player's uniform.

"It's a good thing your friend pulled you out of harm's way when he did," Coach Helisek's examined the situation, he revealed bruising of the arm as well as the ego. "It looked like Lahey would have taken your head off at the speed he was going. I think your shoulders been separated."

"Yeah," Danny said disgruntledly.

"Yeah," Lydia responded reflectively, she had an idea of how to treat it. "Let me help you home. Trust me, you're going to want to keep it immobile and put this on it," she squeezed to activate the instant ice pack she withdrew from her purse. Danny gave her a suspicious look, he'd ask later why she carried medical supplies in her purse, but she ignored the look.

"It's going to get pretty bad in the next couple of hours," Helisek put light pressure on the exact location, while placing Danny's hand over the spot. With that he helped Danny to stand as Lydia hovering beside them. With a comforting grin he looked between the two, "you should be thankful to your friends though."

"Yeah," Danny said little above a groan as he shambled along to the benches.

"Not just her." Helisek looked across toward where Flinstock reamed Isaac and Jackson new assholes. "As much as the bruising sucks, in the long run you'll be thankful to Whittemore for saving your life," with that he petted Danny on his good shoulder, asked if Lydia could take care of him for a bit. Sympathetically, she insisted that she would.

"You just love this whole damsel in distress dynamic we have going on," Danny tried to smirk but mostly sneered with pain as she helped him along toward the showers.

"Oh, obviously." She grinned, focusing on his charm and her goodwill. Anything to distract from the disturbing recognition that Jackson had saved her life at the pool. Worse yet, considering Jackson's memory gaps, he probably didn't even know he had done it.

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Track 12 - Human Nature by Gauntlet Hair

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{Morning – BHHS, outside the Boy's Locker Rooms}

"You stayed!" Scott said relieved. He half jogged toward where Kira paced a slow and meandering path toward the locker rooms.

"Yeah," she hugged her arms to her. He looked mostly relieved to see her. The rest of him looked smattered with bruises and blades of grass caked in mud. "I wasn't sure that I should," she said low in secretive tones despite there being no one nearby.

"You didn't have to if you didn't want to," they looked around and then he smiled nervously. "But I'm glad you did."

She sighed with relief, deeply enough to sage a little. Her hands dropped to her side, and she nodded thoughtfully, "I'm glad I stayed. I wanted to ask you if you were okay."

"Sure," he said as if her question were ridiculous. "I heal pretty quickly." Then it was his turn to look around anxiously, then he gestured for her to follow him. A few moments later they reached the equipment shed behind the bleachers that only maintenance accessed to.

It hadn't occurred to him the door would be locked. Kira's disappointment read clear on her face but something inside Scott, something that wanted to both show off and show that he could be trusted convinced himself it was totally cool to use a bit of his extra strength to pull the door open anyway. He hadn't meant to rip the knob off but that's just how it goes sometimes.

"Wow," Kira said in the dark when he closed the door behind them, "do you think I can do that too?"

"Probably," Scott admitted and quickly realized he was in over his head. "That is if you're like me."

"Like you, how?" she stepped back, not exactly afraid but unsure that she needed room to give him space to explain himself.

The shed was small and made of shelf space that carried nets, goalie bars and LED floodlights sandwiching aluminum benches tight enough make sound reverberate around them. It should have been suffocating but somehow, the sounds of them together, cut the world away and made it easier to share.

Scott took a deep breath and steeled himself as best he could. He had only really done this before when things were intense. He had only been able to tap into some primal strength when he lost control of his emotions, when he felt too angry or too excited or just too much. But in the back of Scott's mind, he felt right now it mattered to him and it mattered to this girl, to gain her trust and it mattered to gain control for himself. He reached inside, searched in his core, and imagined every cell in his body circulating and understanding them at once. And maybe, just maybe commanding them instead of having them command him. Where he dug his nails into his palms, from that point of pain outward, he drew himself together where the animal of man was formed and that was perfectly okay.

When Scott opened his eyes again, he felt they had shifted to gold but felt in control, his claws and fangs were subdued, and he saw the world vibrant and bright in the dark.

"Ohh," Kira stared wide-eyed stepping forward instead of further back. "Wow," she said, with a hand outstretched, but then snatched her hand back embarrassed by her impulse.

Exhausted, Scott blinked and shook off the effects of change as though it were smoke filling up the room.

"So cool," Kira smiled brightly over at him. Then suddenly something came to mind, and she reached into her hoodie pocket. "I want you to see something, too" she explained as she took a step forward, fingers clenched even as she handed over her Nokia.

Whatever reaction Scott was expecting to his transformation, he hadn't expected Kira wanting to take a selfie with him. But her smile was shaky just like his confidence, so Scott followed her lead as she turned his hands to point the camera towards her.

"I want you to use the flash," through her shyness, as she stepped back until her back hit the shelves. The flash in the dark left strobes behind his eyelids for a few seconds. When Scott's vision settled her determined expression hardly matched the nervousness she radiated. A dizzying fear of rejection, that familiar sensation that followed conversion.

"I'm going to show you something no one else has ever seen," her fingertips brought up the image on the phone, unfiltered yet she looked wreathed by flames. The benches, like the sound in the room resonated with her presence.

"cool," Scott exhaled. She wasn't just cool, she was remarkable, but Scott didn't know the words to say so.

Kira laughed shakily and explained this started the night of the storm, "I don't know what causes it."

"You were inside the storm when this started?" Scott hid his disappointment as he handed her back the phone. So, she wasn't like him. He felt conflicted after admitting to Stiles that he longed to share his transformative experience, then feeling guilt when he learned of Lydia's terrible experience. In Kira he found someone recently transformed who felt boundless fascination in her change but once more his connection was denied. She was made to cast light in the dark while wolves were made of only shadows.

"What's wrong? I can tell something is wrong. Is something wrong with me?" she asked, her worry ignored his head shake.

Scott laughed then placed a stilling hand on her shoulder to sincerely apologize for laughing at her. "So, you can sense emotion too?"

Kira shrugged uncomfortably, but very minutely to not shake off his hand. "I can tell more and more when people are off if that's what you mean. I just thought it was because everyone around me was... you know, weird."

"Weird?"

Her mouth twitched slowly into a smile, "like half the lacrosse team feels weird to me now. Or is that just me being suspicious?"

Unsure of how to answer, Scott said nothing. He just gave her shoulder another pat while he tried to figure out where to start his story.

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Track 13 - Hold On by Ponderosa

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{Noon – Sheriff's Station, City Central}

Deputy Clarke understood that sometimes the Chief withheld things. She understood that sometimes certain files stood on his desk longer than the average and sometime there were certain files that went home which probably shouldn't. But what she absolutely didn't understand were times when she was expected to file that reported; "Non-specific animal interface affected the lower lay electrical. Leading to the city-wide blackout." Not when she knew for a fact that there were no animal signifiers anywhere near the source site, otherwise there would have been animal corpse or burnt fur or claw marks.

While Sheriff Stilinski circumvented them without even reading them through, in fact he okayed the report over the phone. Then there were eccentricities and there were just outright wrongs, and she was quite sure this was getting to the point where she could no longer take it.

The cockiness of the site cleaner, a man named Axel, offering to stay and clear up the crash site was enough to crack a crown from how hard she grinded her teeth.

"No, thank you," she said, barely keeping her restraint.

"What was that?" Axel sounded deeply unpleasant. His booming voice challenged not just of her station but confronted her small stature against his broad and sturdy one. Behind the counter Deputy Clarke's hand went to her gun on instinct.

"She said, 'no, thank you'," Sheriff Stilinski repeated coming through the double doors into the Station. He looked harried and unshaven and ready for a fight. "Tell your boss we appreciate the offer but leave it to the professionals."

They kept their positions and watched the large-ish man back off and slink away. Even after he had gone Stilinski insisted Clarke file the incorrect report. The Chief moved past the overhead light and only turned on the desk lamp, exposing a whirlwind of paperwork instead of his ready-set file system. He gestured for her to close the door behind her, so she locked out the noise and hardened her resolve. Her expression voicelessly demanded he explain, and he took it with a slow nod. Even through his tiredness he was able to clearly explain he suspected there was a mole in the system.

"See here," he insisted and showed her going back the last two weeks, evidence logged but missing. Photos scanned but stolen. Misreported incident and conflicting evidence.

Deputy Clarke sat motionless, staring across the desk at this man best known for enforcing the law and here he was performing a deliberate unsanctioned act of entrapment.

"Do you think it's someone at this Station?" she asked, eyes darkened with outrage, not directed at the Chief but at someone who would bring him down so low.

"Whoever it is, they have access to this Station. High-level access, that's for certain," he shook his head, eyeing through the misreport now logged into the system and wondered at how it differed from the evidence he already collected onto his board at home. "I want to see what they're up to before I pull the carpet out from under them."

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Track 14 - I Don't Know Why by Valen

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{Noon-ish – BHHS, Top Floor, Library}

Despite the option to leave with the first group of students, unbothered Allison and Stiles sat on for the second cram-sessions skipping lunch.

"Things around here have been a little crazed," anxiety had Allison flipping through her pages a little fast. "Sorry. I'm sure it's not the home-coming you dreamed of."

Stiles shrugged, and with a smirk admitted, "just your average everyday telenovela."

She stopped and propped her chin up on the palm of her hand, her look turned introspective. "Things got carried away. Maybe if we knew ahead of time there could have been a tickertape parade."

"Nah," Stiles barely glanced up from where he continued scrolling through his cellphone, "maybe I might have been smart enough to go undercover before the big Werewolf reveal."

"Well, you've got a smart mouth," Allison pursed her lips mildly annoyed but mostly amused. "Which is much better."

That caught Stiles up short and when he looked up across the table, he saw her expression and matched it. "It's like you've known me forever."

They dragged their chairs, scraping their wood chairs against the tiled floor closing any gap between them, all pretense abandoned.

"I know you enough to know that you're up to something. Mind if I asked-?" she taunted with a cheeky grin. His eyes narrowed in mischief.

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Track 15 - Secret Door by Arctic Monkeys

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"I'm," he said cockily "creating a convincing paper trail to support our backstory." Stiles displayed his cellphone screen with a bit of pride in his voice. Her brow rose with interest before she took the bait and reached for the incriminating item. Stiles waved back and forth in front of her like a baby's rattle until she snatched it from him. "Now, that I've got my Dad's Law enforcement access into the County records it'll be easier than ever before."

After a moment reviewing his notations, while tilting the cellphone for better view Allison stood, and walked around the table to drop down in the seat beside him. Stiles shot upright, startled at her nearness then ducked low to tuck his head beside her to look at the small screen of his Samsung.

"You don't seem to have a problem with messing with the public record," she said critically, handing the item back. "Not your first time?"

"Or even the third," Stiles' itchy fingers still fumbled to grab at the phone. He tried to play it as aloof, she rolled her eyes and messed with her belongings on the table, as he got securely back on the chair. Only then did Stiles explain, "Isaac made a mess of his transcript to get in here. I can't fix that, but I can make it easier for him to land."

"So, that's it," Allison slouched back in the seat, and touched her lower lip in consideration. Her voice sounded steady but with a little more criticism than before. "You just look into everyone's lives like that," it wasn't a question, so Stiles didn't answer. Allison mentioned before that they were too much alike, now it seemed she wanted only to pull on threads of that theory.

After a moment of saying nothing, she nudged over her tablet and flipped it open with the City/State Records website, upended with the CIA access available for their ready use. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his jaw and pretended for a moment he wasn't going to jump at the chance to use her Hunter family's further reaching credentials. This time Allison held the item steady, so his twitchy hands had no chance of fumbling as they went to work rewriting Isaac & Stiles' historic arrival.

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Track 16 - Requiem For Blue Jeans by Bastille

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{Afternoon – BHHS, Boy's Locker Rooms}

Again, Jackson stirred in the shower not clearly remembering how he had gotten there but knowing something troubling had happened. In the very back of his mind he could hear Coach's voice and the indiscernible shouts from teammates. But the only clarity he felt came with the hot stream of shower water that burned back what felt like scales of reptile he knew slithered underneath.

There was a difference between accountability and guilt, Jackson couldn't feel guilt for something he didn't remember doing but he felt responsibility something that happened to Danny, for whatever gained him the dirty looks from the other players. But he felt only disdain for whatever Lahey threw his way. But his response to it all was a penetrating glare that told them, "Step Off!" with extraordinarily little effort.

Even after everyone left the showers and dressed, he stayed back, went toward doors of the Coaches' office, toward the shape of Helisek and Danny talking terms. Through the window of the dingy office door connected to the locker rooms, Danny's face showed surprise, not upset as he spotted Jackson.

"Hey," he said seeming not at all troubled when he returned to the locker room. Before his best-friend could start stammering an apology, Danny tossed him sneakers and helmet. "Help me get out of the rest of this would you?"

It was obvious from the tiny groan he gave off when reaching to open his locker, that Danny would have trouble changing into his street clothes. He moved stiffly and had a hand to the ice pack on his right shoulder, a placement like the reverse of performing the pledge of allegiance.

"Sure," Jackson nodded and helped pull Danny's Jersey upward from the hem at his waist. He moved with such gentle precision, it became obvious after a moment the slowness was causing more pain. Both in muscle stiffness and in Danny's shrinking patience. After tossing the Jersey to the bottom of the locker and a curious look he got from Danny, Jackson cleared his throat, returned to something nearing his regular cocky tone. "Look, I'm happy to help my friend out of some act of apology but if this is a come on, I've told you before, you're not my type."

Despite his cocky tone, Jackson moved gently to slide Danny's bad arm through the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"Just do it," Danny looked over at him. He gave a small tight-lipped smile, prepared for the pain. Then he added to lighten the mood. "Oh, and FYI: I'm everyone's type."

Jackson gave a dry laugh and pulled Danny's t-shirt overhead faster this time. Getting his jeans on was no less clumsy but somehow easier. Their words came easier as well.

"So, what, you flung me around like a rag doll," Danny went on. His words were lighthearted but between his sore arm and sore feelings he seemed a little off. "If you warned me, I could have moved out of the way. Probably."

Jackson knew what it was like to make excuses for shortcomings on the field. It wasn't just that you didn't want to come off as weak. It was that you didn't want to let down your teammates, you didn't want to let down your Captain... or Co-Captain. Or in this case your best-friend.

"You're being ridiculous," Jackson grabbed up Danny's backpack for him before he could think to ask or argue. "Are you trying to say you let me beat you up for the good of the team? That's a load of shit. And you better not do something like that on the day of a game because it could cost us more than moral." Jackson opened doors for Danny leading the way toward student parking. He knew this wasn't exactly taking accountability, but he wanted to lead Danny to blaming him first, he wanted Danny to be mad.

"If something like this happened on a game day you could have ended up with more than friendly fire," Jackson went on.

"That's a funny way to put it," Danny stopped short. He hovered in the middle of the hallway, letting Jackson hold the door open but with a handout, insisting Jackson give back his backpack. The term felt too true, because Jackson hurt Danny so completely that even trying to make it right felt like making it worse.

When Danny got the bag back, he twisted the strap around his wrist instead of pulling it up onto his shoulder. He continued in a flat voice, "I wasn't afraid if that's what you're worried about. I mean, I'm not mad or anything."

Danny looked up and his eyes were kind, tired but kind and Jackson felt injured by that too.

"Come on, be a little mad," Jackson insisted.

"The ground was a mess man," Danny gave a tired laugh. "And your instincts were just quicker than mine. Yeah, I could have tried to move out of the way, but I wouldn't have made it. This-" he glanced toward his shoulder to keep from gesturing or shrugging and exacerbating the injury "- is a lot better than a concussion or a spinal fracture. Or worse."

Stepping around the kind gesture, Danny made his way outside, this time Jackson followed quietly. He waited to hear Danny tell him exactly what happened when his mind went under the surface and only the lizard-brain took control.

"When you act like a prick, whether it's trying to scare off my man or tear out my arm, you're still you." Danny gave him a once over from top to bottom. He rolled his eyes, amused at something Jackson obviously found daunting and Danny found amusing. "Under all the fitted t-shirts and 5lbs of hair products is a good guy. You just got to figure out how to rein it in."

"Maybe," Jackson grunted, not believing a thing Danny said, despite knowing him not to be a liar. "Or maybe I'm just really good at wearing a disguise."

Danny stopped short with a scoff, and Jackson realized his best-friend meant block the sight of his ex-girlfriend waiting nearby. Lydia leaned against the side of Danny's car, obliviously tapping away on her phone. The sight of her still triggered him, for more reasons he couldn't understand.

"I'm not the only one who thinks it you're not always a prick," Danny glanced towards her, the implication that Jackson could ask for verification if he wanted. Jackson responded with a glare and Danny grinned.

"Look," Jackson said with finality in his voice, "I just mean I can be dangerous. If I'm coming in your direction-" he didn't specify on or off the field, but Danny rolled his eyes at the suggestion he might be in harm's way.

"Look," Danny imitated Jackson's tone, "if you want to keep me safe, just aim for the other team."

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Track 17 - Glad You Came (The Wanted Cover) by Arden Cho and David Kater

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{Afternoon – BHHS, Maintenance Shed, under the Stadium Seats}

While sneaking back out of the shed and noticing the field clearing out, Scott evaluated the state of things. Kira's anxiety and excitement circulated contagiously throughout his cells but the more she asked him not to tell anyone, then it did feel like something was wrong.

"I don't think that that's okay," he said pressing the door closed behind them. It didn't stay no matter how many times he pressed it into place.

The field was empty. They were left behind, no one really cared to scrutinize them. The idea of being isolated during the early transformational days upset him. He had been lucky enough to have Allison to guide him through earlier stages, and it was getting easier to gain focus and control when he needed to. But Scott wasn't sure if he could guide someone else, or if he should do that for someone without an experienced of a group of friends to lean on.

Made evident by their comical tip-toeing across an empty field, they were making themselves feel nervous when there wasn't a need.

"I don't really have all the answers Kira," Scott stressed. "I'm just figuring out what I can do, my friends are helping me. They can help you."

Kira looked uncertain when she nodded. "If you trust them..."

"Absolutely!" he started, envisioning reasons to approach Allison finally revealing itself. Relief seeped through his mind as a smile twice as widespread across his face.

"I mean, if they're just like us," she remembered earlier, all the unique beings she sensed on the field. She tried to convey her confidence with a smile, though she was still uncertain. But she wondered, "they've all got to have something to say, right?"

"I guess you're right. My friends might they have some experience," he hadn't expected that point of view. It was the same subtle exclusion at the Diner, a prejudice when they acknowledged Lydia was only supernatural because she was a Banshee but not a Shapeshifter. It seemed bizarre to him that one of his friends might be iced out for not being strange enough, especially Allison.

But it was definitely too early in their friendship to explain something like Hunters to Kira.

Lost in thought they fell into step along the halls towards the locker rooms, he didn't hear her suggestion or noticed her text him the photos of her Kitsune effects. Once he received them, he still marveled over the image. It snapped him out of his fixation and reminded of the seriousness they were trying to work out.

"So, it's okay if I forward this to my best-friend?" he whispered to her, looking up from his phone.

Kira sat down in the middle of the stairwell; she expected him to say something like that, but it was still hard to hear. She shrugged and struggled to smile, her eyes were somehow unafraid.

· Got Questions? Tell no one.

Scott sent it on to Stiles with the briefest, vaguest message knowing the intrigue would keep Stiles in check. Then dropped to sit beside Kira on the steps. Scott stared at her for a long moment and said nothing before putting an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

"You're brave," he said as a matter-of-fact.

"I'm a freak," Kira gave pause then replied, matter-of-factly.

After a moment of watching her face, Scott nodded and gave her shoulders a squeeze, "let's be freaks together. It'll be great."

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Track 18 - The Listening by LIGHTS

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{Afternoon – BHHS, Student Parking}

"I think this whole damsel in distress thing is your kink," Danny winced, he struggled to keep a cool façade as pain spiked through his arm with each step.

"No, but I definitely think it suits you," Lydia replied. She stood upright, from where she leaned against the side of Danny's car. She knew the difficulty he would have driving, to spare him the pain she insisted on his keys, with an extended hand and cocky expression that wouldn't take no for an answer.

Truth be told, Danny preferred a chauffeured escort after the day he had. Having Lydia as a companion was an extra treat.

"I gotta say it was a surprise to see you out supporting the team, especially at a practice," Danny noticed.

"Go, Go Cyclones. Blow away the competition," she chanted dully helping lock the seatbelt behind him rather than over his bad shoulder. To which Danny laughed dryly.

"I saw you almost had your head knocked off," Danny noted when she leaned back into the driver's seat.

She nodded, but didn't address it, then she started the car without strapping into her seatbelt. It would have hurt her shoulder also, but she didn't want to address that, either.

"You almost had your arm ripped off. I guess you can say it definitely wasn't the most boring practice to show up for," she looked over at him with a playful smirk, even though the car was on she didn't move. Danny glanced down at where her purse lay wedged between them and remembered her readiness for his injury. His brow furrowed, he could make out the bottle of painkiller and another icepack wedge among her belongings.

"Lydia, are you okay?" Danny asked.

After hesitation, she then returned the car to park. "No," Lydia answered finally and quietly added, "are you?"

"No," he answered his smile lengthened carefully, then asked for a painkiller and she didn't hesitate to share. When he asked again why she came to practice, and she admitted she wanted to check in on Jackson. When she twisted further toward Danny, this time she turned her neck and pulled back her shirt's collar to show a bruising similar to his.

Danny leaned back in surprise and regretted it at once. After a moment he looked again, as she shared and edited version of events at the pool the night before. Jackson confronted her at the pool, later when she fell under some unknown savior yanked her to safety then vanished. Danny's remembered Jackson's had another one of his unexplained disappearances around the same time, when he was supposed to be volunteering in the library.

"He's getting worse," she said factually.

"Maybe he needs time," but Danny's expression disagreed. "Because it seems like if he does these dumb disappearing acts, he also does these sudden reappearing acts, too. He'd never means to hurt us. It's like he can't help it. You'd think it's steroids or something?"

The sight of Jackson was something, watching the way he looked around while Danny writhed on the floor like he couldn't focus- it was the same expression Jackson had when she found him in her bedroom the other night, touching her jacket, wondering about her wellbeing the night the game had gone to shit. It seemed Jackson would always be compelled to care for them no matter how far the Kanima's claws dug into him.

"Or something," Lydia answered, the thought didn't give her the relief she thought it would.

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Track 19 - New Skin (Shaking Through) by Torres

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{Still – BHHS, Top Floor, Library}

"You know data isn't people's lives, Allison." Stiles said snappishly, without looking up from a text he got from Scott. But when he did, he looked considerately, a searching expression and faster speech. "Lives are the options, resulting in inevitable action, leading to endless collating data. Just ask my Dad's murder-board."

"That. Sounds. Stimulating," Allison punctuated her sentenced with equal part sarcasm and distraction. She scanned her tablet, reviewing his forgery work as though she were an expert, which she probably was.

There was a little feeling pride that rolled through Stiles at Allison's practice of sarcasm. He leaned back into his seat and gnawed at his thumbnail. Further incited, he took up an invisible challenge and vied for her attention.

"Yeah, it is revealing. Like, how you your family bought the house in the summer after the first Werewolf death but only moved in 1 day after the first Omega died. Like their interest had finally been piqued. In a totally non-suspicious manner."

Allison put her tablet down forcefully and rolled her eyes toward him. "What does that correlate to, exactly?" she said struggling to keep her tone civil.

"It isn't just that-," he smiled, eyes bright and curious, "-if you account for the past 2 lunar cycles where there's been an increase in reports of strange animal behavior. Birds flying into windows, terrified ungulates- hoofed animals running headlong into traffic, fish going to ground, pets attacking their owners and reports of large wolves migrating in broad daylight, straight along the coast. Easy to dismiss data if you're not looking. Culminating in Argent and Company sweeping in to buy up loads of property around town. Real cheap to since rates are plummeting with all things living scuttling away."

Allison's mouth dropped open, offended that ransacked her tablet. Instead of just revising the school's boring admin system, he'd taken advantage of lowered guard and gone through her case-notes, then forwarded it to his cellphone which he displayed smugly.

"Look, I knew my family came here to investigate. That's important, but I don't know or understand what's going on." Allison smacked the offensive item away and glared at Stiles. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice went soft. "They're still investigating, Stiles. It's getting uglier. But if you think I knew Scott was going to be attacked? You think I would allow something like that happen to him? Allow it to happen to anyone?"

Stiles recalled the confidence with which Allison marched through the woods and lead them to safety the first day they met. How she had doubled-back despite knowing her family would be hunting them in moments. He considered how conflict must have torn Allison up, and how it was still tearing her up to push Scott away to keep him safe. Or how Allison shared her family's secrets while asking nothing in return. Or the way Allison still tried to smile when she was afraid because she felt responsible for everyone's livelihood, and because Stiles had never ever seen her use a weapon with intent to kill despite carrying the label of 'Hunter'.

"No, I don't actually." His odd little smugness didn't waver, but it felt less sincere. "But I think your family could have prevented it if they wanted to. The dates showed they have agendas within agendas. My pack has run across Argents before. Strike that, I've known to run away from Argents before. But I'm not running from you. I'm here for you."

"Thanks." When Allison smiled her eyes closed on reflex, like it exhausted her to let go of so much hostility. Her voice was bolder, her smile widened when she asked, "will that show in the data?"

"Do you want me to scribble in your notebook '#StilesAndAllisonBFF4EVER' before the end of study hall?"

Stiles eased back and laughed lightly, easily. "Totally." Then added, sincerely, "but what would Scott say if he knew?"

Her mind would always turn to him. "He'd say 'Awesome?" He answered, then tacked on. "Now what would Lydia say? If Lydia says anything these days?"

Allison reached out and petted Stiles' hand on the table, where he covered and protected his phone from further abuse. She shook her head pitiably before reminding, "Lydia, she's Lydia. She can say a lot with a little."

"Right now, she is on the side of saying very little. Very, very little. She isn't even picking up the phone. I leave messages. She just ignores them."

"She isn't ignoring them. She just isn't answering," Allison poked and urged him to pick up his phone.

"What's the difference?" he groaned and lifted the offensive device. She mimed a gesture to 'Go ahead!' And while he looked through his text, sure enough every text read as received, read and unreplied to.

"Stiles, the difference is in the data." Allison said finally when he didn't catch on. "Stiles, if she really wanted to reject you, she wouldn't have read them. She would have blocked you."

The recognition hit Stiles with a little OH and he weighed his phone in consideration. Then attached to his earlier jealousy came the recognition, "but she's replying to Scott. Is she texting you?"

Allison was reluctant to admit it but eventually did, "just guarded stuff. That she dropped out of Swim Team, that she left to drive Danny home. But anything real she has no time for it."

Interrupting their flow, Allison got a text and Stiles demanded she check it. Even when she assured him it wasn't from Lydia, he assumed she was lying.

"You two are so alike," Allison barked with laughter collecting her things at the end of the period. Stiles followed in step his glower burned a hole in her back and she took it as a badge of honor. "You're both fighting not to fight, which is part of the problem."

It was only after she said it that Allison realized she'd formed an opinion, weighed on an argument that she'd yet to speak up about. She stopped at the bottom of the library staircase and pulled Stiles between stacks of shelves. The newly restacked books stood looming as a reminder for them to keep a peace between them.

"Hunters, Werewolves; we're all weighing in on what happens next. Lydia doesn't feel like she has that right." As much as Allison wavered (to spy or not to spy), the recollection of Lydia curbside in the rain outside of Tony's Diner haunted her unwaveringly. Lydia refused to come back to their table because she felt like there was no place for her there, it was as literal as it was a metaphor.

"That's ridiculous. She's got an invested interest. In fact, she's got the deciding vote. This crazed Monster Alpha's bite infected her, changed her and she can make 'em pay-" Stiles' voice rose along with his height as he edged up on his toes, looming over her unintentionally. Hisses from nearby patrons only got Stiles to hiss back at them to shut up.

"Stop, Stiles. Stop." Allison waved her hands between them, urging him to back off, "I'm not going advocate Lydia to you." She stared at him for a long time, and after looking over the concern and hopelessness in his face she conceded. "But if I did, I'd tell you to stop and put yourself where she's coming from."

"I'm following you so far," he nodded, a slow and intent bob of determined interest.

"For instance," she said with grating intent, "if I were to put myself in your shoes, I'd say the issue you need airing is 'how to deal with that Monster Alpha'."

Jerking back with a jolt, Stiles realized he'd mentioned the topic without meaning to bringing it up. The last time the two of them had spoken about the Monster, Allison was concerned over whether It could control other Betas. He sputtered, not knowing if he should go on, whether this was his place to tell. If Allison and Scott weren't talking, was he supposed to wait for Scott to reveal to her they believed It was Scott's Monster Alpha? Was this a moment where Stiles should advocate for his best-friend?

"Meanwhile, she's been screaming her head off but has yet to speak up for herself. Stiles, she's my best-friend, my fiery outspoken best-friend who I'd never assume to speak for," Allison hoodwinked, "but I do understand some data you're just refusing to process." With a tilted head gazed at him intently, her penetrating brown eyes trying to get him to see reason. "This thing didn't infect Lydia. You can't infect someone naturally immune, like a Banshee, which she always was. That is a fact you guys haven't accepted that, and it's why she doesn't want a deciding vote. She's just- isn't anything like you."

The double-whammy made Stiles' breath come in deep gulps. He rubbed at his face before speaking again.

"Yeah, but she's Lydia." He insisted, remembering she had survived this Monster Alpha alone once already. "She's never been 'like us' you know. She's been smarter, prettier, simply better. That's why we need her. But I guess- I do see what you mean. I mean, I didn't see."

"It living or dying changes nothing for her," Allison insisted, hell even advocated stronger for someone who insisted she wouldn't advocate at all. "You guys talking about 'cures' and 'packs' alienates her. But confiding in friends might help her."

"She told you that?" Stiles' brow went up critically.

"No." Allison replied smugly, "she my best-friend. She doesn't have to."

"You've got us all figured out pretty well." He gave her thoughtful measure and nodded. His voice was full and teasing when asked, "so then what's your issue?"

"I thought it was obvious," she said. Allison knew moments like these if her heartbeat picked up, could be misread. Her worries were with the text she received earlier from Isaac, describing what he overheard in the locker room between Jackson and Danny. She felt spread thin, like a rubber band ready to snap. Let Stiles read it as worry for their best-friends, but worrying over Monsters instead. She wished there were fewer worries in the world. "My issue is I have to protect Scott from my family but stay loyal to them. And it's probably going to get me killed."

While pressing his lips together Stiles considered this, it was like he could feel through her but after a pause, he winked. "You're a pretty good friend," he punched her lightly in the shoulder. She rolled her eyes at that and when she turned to lead them both away, she made sure to butt her shoulder against his hard enough to knock him into a bookshelf.

"Yeah, you're lucky we're BFF4EVER," Stiles said, his tone taunting while he rubbed his sore shoulder and scrambled to catch up with Allison.

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Track 20 - Easily by Grimes

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{Afternoon – outside the Māhealani House, Aires West}

"I'm still trying to figure out if I'm saving you or if you're saving me," Danny said a little groggily, while the painkillers worked their magic into his bloodstream.

After the epic re-telling of their meet-cute at dusk on a mountain top where his new boyfriend rescued him from potential predator, "weirdos or mountain lions or something", Danny emphasized his need for a legit first date.

Lydia responded with a shrug as she pulled into the driveway of his home. Even though regular 'Parties' at her home were legendary, Lydia could hardly explain she didn't feel up to it because she hardly felt regular. A party would be a ready distraction, and it would be a slice of normal to look forward to at the end of this tunnel. If Danny wanted to put on a show for his boyfriend Ethan, she took it to mean he would co-host this circus, which she was over the moon about.

"I just want to be myself and party for one night," she sighed and after some consideration, then she conceded to their deal. Leaning back into her seat she cast her bag an angry glare and squeezed it shut, closing off her medical supplies and obsessive notes.

Danny responded sagely with, "Lydia gets what Lydia wants."

She laughed at that, and felt endlessly grateful for Danny's acceptance of her, of her crazy story and the Jackson they shared. And the regularness he expected of her despite everything as he casually suggested -"you know I could finally hook you up at the party."

"What? Finally going to share that perfect guy?" she pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze.

"The twin, Aiden." Danny grinned.

Lydia considered it, very briefly and replied. "Yes. Sounds perfect."

---

Playlist Available: 8tracksDOTcom / bhanesidhe / 21-were-you-certain

Playlist: transferred to YoutubeDOTcom / bhanesidhe / playlist