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

23. partying

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Track 01 - I'm Good, I'm Gone (5 Guys and a Dog Remix) by Lykke Li

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

A cool yellow light came broke through the lightly cloudy sky, creating patches along the slants of the Stilinskis' roof. While the window faced the right directions for the sun to beam through, there was no brightening the home to postcard appeal, but Isaac tried.

After Stiles texted to say he crossed the town line into Beacon Hills, Isaac restlessly paced, tidied the house, messed the place up when he tried to cook, cleaned it up again and then paced again. There was plenty of time before Stiles pulled up to the house in his familiar blue Jeep, escorted by the Sheriff.

"You weren't even here one minute before you got arrested this time," Isaac chuckled, while Stiles stumbled ahead of him up the stairwell to the bedroom.

Collapsed into the fluffiness of his perfect pillow, Stiles replied, "Detained." He turned to face Isaac, his eyes looked puffy with unrest and his hair was rumpled to the shape of a bird's nest. He had a cheery expression despite his obvious exhaustion. "Anyway, it's not on my record. I think it's just my Dad's way of saying he misses me," Stiles smirked.

"Did you get any sleep on the road?"

"I just got 4 flawless hours down at the Station. What about you? How's your undead brain?" Still clinging to the pillow to his head, Stiles leaned up onto his elbow.

Isaac kneeled, propped his chin into his folded arms at the edge of the bed. "Still bad dreams, but it's not like I can't tell the difference. I still wake up alive and Erica and Boyd are dead, and there's nothing to do about it. But this scar's almost gone." He glanced down to the faded glint of a line on his forearm, the only physical incident left from his near-death experience.

"Hey, that's great," Stiles mock-cheered, "you'll be able to keep it all suppressed and brooding like a real Hale!"

"As opposed to your overblown grand gestures," snorted Isaac, "like throwing notebooks into fireplaces and driving cross-country for dossiers that could've been messengered."

Then Stiles dropped his face into his pillow and groaned for a loud, long and miserable moment. Isaac blinked and watched stunned as suddenly Stiles sat up, his back against the headboard pillow clutched to his chest and a stern yet animated expression on his face.

"Alright, I should tell you about everything that went down at the Homestead before Scott turns up in," he flicked over his wrist and looked at his imaginary watch. "Oh, in about one minute."

"It's about time," Isaac bounced up to sit on the foot of the bed and added fondly. "It was either that or keep trying to emotionally blackmail it out of you."

Stiles smiled, "just hold onto that thought."

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Track 02 - Crown the Pines by S. Carey

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Sneaking through his home a teen instead of a kid was becoming easier. But sneaking around just to find Scott casually hanging out was a different type of reward. Especially, since Scott turned up to see his Dad and not Stiles.

"How long have you been here?" Stiles asked. Not that it wasn't cool to watch Scott and his Dad discuss which toaster settings would brown and not burn. He tried not to be jealous that he didn't have any input. But Stiles had to wonder, if he hadn't happened to wander downstairs for a Coke how long would it have gone on that Scott cheated on him with his Dad?

"Oh, not long," Scott's mouth twitched from embarrassment into a grin. Wiping his hands of crust, he trudged over for a bear hug. That felt fitting. "Welcome home, buddy." It made sense that Scott instinctly settled under the Stilinskis roof because Stiles and Isaac hadn't sensed his arrival at all. It was a second home to Scott after all.

"Yeah, man. It's good to be back." He clapped his hand on Scott's back and held on a bit longer than long. When they let go, Scott's grin went from slight to beaming, Stiles' mirrored his. "Come on, I got you a present on the way." Stiles instructed and led the way toward his room.

From the looks on their faces, the strained sense of cheer between the inseparable two when they walked in the room Isaac took as a sign to give them a minute's privacy. After all the last 'one minute' to catch up with Stiles had been a head-fuck of a couple of hours and Isaac figured he should start bringing Stiles' luggage up from the Jeep.

"Here!" Stiles tossed a red and spinning mass from the depths of his backpack toward Scott's face.

With wide-eyed surprise and ingrained instincts, Scott caught the phone before it hit home. "What's this?"

"Courtesy of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department," Stiles said, proudly he then explained, "I convinced Parrish a second phone would help encourage me to be in contact with my family. Which is technically true." He winked at Scott cheekily, "so just don't break it this time."

"Thanks man," Scott tipped the bright Red Samsung up in salute, then shoved it into his back pocket. "I'll treasure it." A lull set in, the wattage of Scott's smile dropped, and he figured with Stiles still clearing gear from his bed he wouldn't notice, therefore Stiles wouldn't have to worry.

"Come on man just say it." Stiles slowly twisted back around and dropped his near-empty, beat-up backpack between them on the bed.

"Say what?" Scott brooded. He failed at lying.

"You're trying to figure why I left the way I did?" Stiles looked unusually pensive and still, like his words were time bombs, "did you really think I would stay out there?"

Scott glowered down at the backpack, blaming it for starting this whole emotional mess and he nodded.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Stiles scooted to the foot of his bed. "I can't lie and say I see it from your perspective, but I can say this. But why not think of going back to the place that's kept me safe for a third of my life to say goodbye. I mean this place is filled with Monsters and murderers, literally the stuff of nightmares. And I'm not like you, I'm not a hero but if I've already found the best people in my life here why shouldn't I try everything to just stay with them? I went back to wrap things up so I could come here to stay."

"Yeah?" Scott was grinning, he knew the reply but wanted to hear it again.

"Yeah." Stiles held onto Scott's shoulder and shook him a little. "Tell me what I've got to do to make this up to you."

"Think about going back to the Cliffside with me," Scott's stare pinned Stiles firmly in its grip. Like a panicked animal, Stiles froze. He looked Scott's face over for a weakness in the trap and saw nothing, only openness. After a gulp Scott pursued, "it's where it all began. I am still thinking about going to the jogging trail, you can come if you want to. I know tomorrow's Is bad timing with the New Moon but -"

"Sure," Stiles sniffed, he backed away and wiped at his nose. "I'll at least think about it." After a moment of hand-wringing thoughtfulness he'd grabbed up his backpack again and reached in. He pulled out a battered packet of medical files and court documents, with the name 'Hale' printed across it in print so faded it turned brown. He dropped them to the bed and pulled out books that looked like something between journals or daily planners, plopped them on top. "Speaking of the beginning of things, we've got some reading up to do. You wanted to know something about being part of a pack."

Feeling confused and uncomfortable, Scott looked from Stiles to the papers and after touching the edges of them he looked back up at Stiles.

"There's nothing sacred in there," Stiles flipped a few of them open. "Just bureaucratic stuff. Like how and why Werewolves' temperatures run different than others. Why women have different have higher pain thresholds. Or how light reflects on our eyes in flashes. This is mine and Isaac's real medical record in case we need it someday. Plus, some stuff about what it was like living here 15 years ago. Just stuff about the Hale House when it was still a house. And some things about the woods, a Nemeton tree and how the loads of people used it as a mutual meeting place. From packs to love birds."

"Nemeton?"

"Yeah, this weird tree that grew on ley lines that connected this place to my old place-"

"Euclidean parallel postulate."

"Uh, sure," Stiles stared at Scott in confusion, "that sounds like something Lydia would say."

"Yeah, it was. She said these types of shapes would help us," Scott looked through the papers and wondered if there was a map amongst the disorder.

"These shapes did help," Stiles smirked. He considered not only his journey home but also compared it to the documents he'd browsed. "Has Lydia just been studying this whole time?" Scott nodded but didn't elaborate so he moved on. "Look, what's interesting is even though the tree attracts all these different types, there's never been one violent incident recorded at the place where a Nemeton stands."

"Maybe they just didn't record it."

"Maybe. Maybe something else happens there. Hunters and Werewolves. Witches and Banshees. Emissaries would arrange a meet, families and pacts would have sanctuary there, until you know when-" from the crooked etch in Scott's brow he specified, "you know, fifteen years ago."

"What about Beacon Hill's Nemeton?" Scott wondered aloud. "Is it still there?"

Stiles hadn't bothered to think about that specific location. After Braeden explained the detail of the pain it caused his matriarchs, subconsciously he put it out of mind. "I was told it's not standing anymore. But somehow it's still 'viable', whatever that means," he quoted, rubbing the back of his neck like he could trigger the clearest recollection.

"Do you think we couldn't find it?"

"It isn't on any map, but we found the Hale House. With Lydia's help."

"Maybe she already knows about it."

"Maybe we shouldn't find it," Isaac interrupted.

"Christ," Stiles cringed and swung back in surprise. He spun back, biting on his lower lip before speaking, "Do you just hover in doorways? Is that your thing?"

"It hasn't failed me yet," Isaac smirked, and stepped through the door, closing it behind him with one foot because he carried a small but heavy box. "If I didn't hang around in the doorway, how'd I know you guys were planning to dig through a bunch of papers you already decided were useless to look into mythical trees you've been told aren't around. Aside from the fact that that sounds just as useless as it is nuts, is there an actual reason to do this?"

Scott and Stiles looked to one another and considered where it was, they were trying to dig in their past, maybe Isaac was right, and they were jumping the gun.

"It's just a hunch," Scott's voice lost some conviction but he turned back to Isaac, his eyes firm and alight with interest. "We've been trying to look into our beginnings, to get ahead of these monsters. They know more about us at every turn. They know more about everything. If we can put together the real story, we don't have to sit back and watch people die."

Isaac looked to the both of them. He had rarely seen Stiles quiet but even his foster-brother looked to Scott as his mouthpiece.

"Alright," Isaac dropped to the foot of the bed. He jabbed at a few papers with distant interest, "I'll ask Lydia about the Nemeton." They looked disturbed, Stiles looked offended, and Scott looked surprised. "Well, you both have roots in this town, and I don't. And you seem you seem busy with your soul-searching. Plus, if some magic tree has roots in my packs history, I've an invested interest."

After a moment, "yeah" Scott agreed and looked to Stiles nodded although his face looked pensive with distaste. To distract himself from the overwhelming amount of information piled up on him, Stiles reminded them they should be unpacking his things. While Isaac idily distracted himself with papers on the bed, Stiles fussed over which boxes not to touch and left Scott to do all the real work. Not that Scott minded very much, there was a sense of pride knowing he still knew how and where Stiles preferred everything in his bedroom.

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Track 03 - Smile (Hippie Sabotage Remix) by Mikky Ekko

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{Morning – Stilinskis' House, 2nd Floor, Stiles' Bedroom}

Effectively twelve hours after his arrival in Beacon Hills, Stiles had come up with a new version of "the Plan." It came to him like a bolt of lightning after several restful hours sleep in a holding cell, followed up by more in his bed after his Dad took him to their actual home. Throughout Scott and Isaac spending hours regrouping under the guise of unpacking, Stiles explained the details of how their contact with the Hales was over, pretty much forever and whatever he came back with was it. Alluding to a more tragic historical word-vomitical-like past that he'd save for a very happy Christmas share.

Isaac mentioned his encounter with Kira right off the bat. He wanted to ease Scott's guilty mind and he wanted to talk a little bit more about his nightmares. Scott agreed that he first encountered Kira the day of Isaac's attack, Stiles took it from there because his confidence with Kira prevented Scott from saying anything. Stiles did unsettle them both by mentioning Allison straight away; he felt she should know about Kira, just like he felt they should know that Allison wanted to bring Jackson into her confidence about the Kanima. Neither one of them liked that but Allison felt it was her purgative for Jackson's benefit. He didn't tell them about the video or that Allison had probably already approached Jackson, probably because he hadn't heard back from her but Lordy, once she got back to him, the words they would share! Then there was the matter of Scott's Alpha-

Throughout catching up, they made a mess and broke a bunch of Stiles' childhood stuff while he tried to settle in new stuff. In his caution Isaac spilled the contents of box ironically marked "Fragile! I'm Not Messing Around!", the contents of which were metal restraints. Out spilled a floor length chain that rattled loud enough to wake the dead.

"Guys!" Stiles shouted in a panicked voice high above a whisper, "I said to keep it down."

The knock Stiles feared came to his bedroom door, while everyone in the room froze like living statues while edging glances toward the door. The Sheriff stood there, in his freshly pressed and imposing uniform, looking affable if not confused.

"I would have asked if you needed help, but it looks you've got things- Part of me wants to ask. The other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So - I'm gonna walk away."

Stiles hopped over the bed and raced to his doorway, calling out after his Dad, "Hey so it's cool that I hang out with my friends while you're out."

"This is you asking?"

"Yes?" after an awkward gap he added, "I love you?"

"Is this going to involve chains?"

Stiles insisted, with a nod of conviction, "probably not" the guys in the room followed in chorus.

The only reasonable response was groan and walk off, leaving the house a little rattled as he headed out.

"Was that a yes? I'm taking that as a yes." Eager to rejoin his friends Stiles hopped back to the task of unpacking. He didn't want to stress over where his Dad could be headed to all dressed up to the 9's on his day off. But Isaac felt differently about it and pointed it out from the window.

"You'd never guess who's your Dad's date," Isaac cooed. Scott went over quickly but Stiles took his time. After the last conversation he had with his Dad before hitting the road and Parrish's poking insights he was afraid for the worst.

"Abominable snow man," Stiles threw out there for a laugh, while he suppressed his fears and squeezed between them to peek. Hanging out of by driver's side door of a familiar dark Hatchback, stood an extra achingly familiar guy with the shaggy hair, odd shades and deceptively mild lopsided grin.

"You've met him before. His name's Rumy," Isaac blew disheartened breath out, "He's a Hunter."

As if he heard the mention of his name, the man looked up to meet their gaze. All three jumped at a wince and then remembered it wasn't an offense to be waved cheerily at, so they returned the gesture.

"Did you think he looked at us weird? Like he was looking... I don't know, at us weirdly?" Scott asked stepping slowly back toward the mess in the center of the room.

"This is my Dad's day off and he's spending it with that guy- What do you think he's doing with my Dad? Do you think they're recruiting him? Do you think they're brainwashing him?" Stiles rambled off to himself as he hefted up the incredibly heavy floor length in one go. When he tossed it onto the bed, it creaked ominously from the blow and Isaac had to stop him.

"Would you give it a break? Your paranoia is catching." With his eyes, he redirected Stiles to look at Scott, and the growing nervousness on their friend's face.

"Jeez, you're right. That's not important right now, what's important is this," Stiles smiled easily. It was the most at ease he had felt since this ordeal began, since leaving Red River the first time and since he wasn't sure how to convey that, there was nothing left than to demonstrate. "This is all my crap. We're going to sort through it, because if there is something to help us-"

Seemingly on cue the rest of the contents fell from Scott's arms as he picked back up the "Fragile!" box, a pair of restraints with worn down scruffy cuffs landed with a thud on top of the chains. "I mean something better than handcuffing Scott every time he goes to sleep," Stiles clarified, his brows went up in surprise.

"What if we don't find anything here?" Scott asked, not because he felt hopeless but because the plan seemed a lot like the other tricks Stiles used to pull just to get Scott to clean his room.

Stiles winked at him, plopped down onto the bed and started sorting through stuffed dolls, "I didn't say we'll find a magical item or anything. Just talk. And look. And keep talking. We'll think of something. We have until 7 anyway."

"Why?" Isaac asked, his face was soured, partly because he'd chanced upon a bag stuffed with dirty socks and because of Stiles' dubious tone.

"Because we've got a party to go to tonight," Stiles grinned toothily, holding up a Bathrobe from the Motel Lodge like treasured gains. Scott and Isaac looked to each other uncomfortably, then back to Stiles with concern.

"Why do you have that look?" Stiles sighed and dramatically dumped turned out a laundry bag full of freshly washed ironic T-Shirts.

"What look?" Scott blinked and smiled meekly like a dry innocence covered everything. Isaac moved away with a snort and kept busy looking through some books.

"The look that says that the last thing we should be doing right now is going to a party."

"It's not that," Scott's voice sounded unconvincing. "It just seems weird - like that might be the last place you'd want to show your face." Isaac nodded profusely, both he and Scott clearly recalled the resentment Lydia displayed at the mere mention of Stiles' name.

"Ridiculous, besides, you're projecting. You just don't want to see Allison," Stiles smirked, as he sniffed at his new recovered favorite slimming button up that smelled good enough. He yanked off the one he wore and replaced it.

Scott opened his mouth to argue but found nothing to say exactly. "I just think he has an ulterior motive-" with his face a mixture of pleading and pained, Scott looked to Isaac. He had to know, the innocence of his face had some skill in the art of passing the buck. He turned to Isaac for a rescue but saw that he nodded in agreement with Stiles.

"Stiles always has an ulterior motive," Isaac reminded, "But you'll be fine. We'll just go for a minute."

"Exactly, just enough time to tell your old girlfriend about your new girlfriend-"

"I swear to god Stiles!" Isaac took offense as Scott's face colored. The art of bro-ship notwithstanding, the only way to get Scott to come along to Lydia's party was the hard sell. By reminding him of his promise to Kira and (by lesser extent) Stiles that he'd talk to Allison about her abilities for her sake needled at Scott's more valiant nature.

"Fine. Five minutes. Ten tops. No more than an hour." Scott haggled to himself over his imagined curfew while grooming his mop-top in the reflection of Stiles' bedroom mirror.

Grinning toward one another, Isaac reminded Stiles "this doesn't resolve the bigger problems."

"Wassat?" Stiles felt and looked stunned, displeased to have someone throw a kink into his perfect plans.

"Well, the two of you have two clingy parents who are never gonna let you go to a party..." Isaac gestured between the two, hands like trays weighing their downcast fates.

"Yeah," Stiles rubbed at his jaw in thought, "and you've got none. Which makes you the perfect pawn." At that, both Scott and Isaac really didn't like the tone, sight or sense of him.

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"Since Lydia and I 'broke up', things have been tense. I thought since she's close with Stiles..." Isaac begged to the Sheriff to let Stiles attend a party. It made sense for him to cover up, he was used to claiming unlikely scenarios as real life. Imagining a world where he needed Stiles as a wingman was like trying to imagine a world where he ran away to France to live with Hunters. But people seemed to believe anything he said these days. "...it would just be for like an hour, Sir. I could even introduce him to some of the guys on the Lacrosse team."

"It'll be a great way to bond and catch up with the big lug!" Stiles flung his arm over Isaac's shoulders, trying a little too hard to sell it. The struggle to stay in frame while they Facetimed the Sheriff, a man who looked distinctly unpleased to be interrupted on duty. Isaac's struggled to curb the instinct to push off Stiles and slap him straight onto the floor. Knowing that, Stiles grinned wide and creepily at him.

His Dad laughed bitterly, "and you thought the two of you would get in my good graces with this sibling act." It sounded haunting through the cell phone's screen.

The thought hadn't exactly struck Stiles until that moment, and he gave it a little whine. "Please, Dad."

"Please, uhm, Dad," Isaac conceded when Stiles tugged at his neck with enough pinch it felt like he might close off his breathing.

The pause on the other side of the line was terrifying and Stiles withdrew his arm, for the sake of better cringing when finally, "I want you back by ten."

"It barely starts by ten-" instinct had Stiles bargaining before thought better.

"Ten thirty."

"One."

"Ten Forty-five."

"Twelve Forty-Five."

"Eleven," he said with such sharpness it meant finality, "and I swear to god Stiles you had better not-"

"There is no way I'm getting picked up by the police tonight," Stiles interrupted his Dad's concerned. "100% not arrested. Whatever we get up to I promise not to get caught- kidding! Kidding!"

The click on the other end of the line left little room to believe that his Dad enjoyed his display of humor. Isaac threw off Stiles' hold and gave him a glare, something of a fear and violence.

"Oh, what now?"

"You just jinxed us to hell," Isaac said with a dramatic timbre to his voice, when Stiles moved to pat his arm in comfort Isaac flinched from his touch. It happened again. And again, and again as they skid chased around Stiles' bedroom until one or both tripped over and broke some of Stiles' luggage.

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Track 04 - No Wow (MSTRKRFT Remix) by the Kills

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{Night – McCalls' House, Lakewood Neighborhood}

5 minutes later they felt less certain of themselves, while Melissa McCall ate her dinner in a rushed, calculating silence but Isaac figured his nervousness, sweaty palms and unsure smile worked in his favor.

She licked her lips before she spoke and looked a little villainous, "did he say you could borrow his bike?"

"No." They answered in unison.

Isaac felt a little tired of being the middleman but at the same time, a little vain about being the necessary one. He let it work to his advantage, "I mean, I could take the bus to Lydia's party."

When he said it, Scott gave a squeak that could be mistaken for relief. Scott stopped eating a while ago, but his brows went animated in confusion and his eyes skittered unsteadily on his Mom, then back to Isaac.

"But the buses stop at ten," Isaac took another bite of his steak, then spoke while chewing. "I'd get stuck out there and even though I think Lydia would like the idea of me hitchhiking back home, I just figured, since Scott was grounded anyway, I could just use-" then he gulped it down with water and let the lie simmer.

Melissa considered the proposal and considered how granting Isaac using Scott's bike would affect him, especially losing it for party reasons. Then it seemed just like the punishment she'd been searching for. Which was possibly why she misinterpreted Scott's speeding from the table, and the slam of his bedroom door.

Instead of angsty music and faking the shape of a body under the sheets, he left his computer continuously playing tutorials to make it sound like he was studying. With hesitation, Scott changed into blue jeans, a form fitting crew t-shirt and his lucky denim jacket a party and hopped out his bedroom window. Isaac dawdled down the road beside Scott's bike, lingering with keys in hand and a smug expression. He dropped his smirk when he noticed Scott's expert leaping from awning to roof to ledge and tree before he landed down beside him, party-ready.

"Don't think of it as lying to her again," Isaac gave him nod and calm smile, "think of it as 'I'm getting better at being a regular rebellious kid. Pulling off schemes, sneaking behind parents' backs, stealing vehicles, destruction of school property and constantly getting arrested. They'll base a YA novel off of me soon.'"

Scott rolled his eyes and snorted, unable to keep brooding after a comment like that. It wasn't as simple as all that, lying to his Mom would be the easiest part of the evening. Up next came dumping Isaac at Lydia's to soften her up so that he could confront Allison. Of course, he still had to somehow obtain Kira.

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Track 05 - You're Not the One (Little Daylight Remix) by Sky Ferreira

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{Night – Yukimuras' House, The Hills}

"I told you we should have gotten her home schooled! She's too smart for this! It wasn't bad enough that she has to go to school with them, but she wants to do things- things afterschool with them!" Noshiko yelled at a whisper.

"Most parents would be delighted their kids would take an interest in extracurricular activities. They might even encourage the social activities," Ken said smartly while lifting a sashimi in the air with a flourish.

"I can hear the both of you," Kira said from across the table, glaring at her parents. It wasn't that she felt angry at them, more that she felt embarrassed. Normally they would wait until they were behind closed doors for their veiled nitpicking to hide what they were really arguing about. Because this obviously wasn't about Lacrosse.

"Of course, you can," her Mom whipped around, her expression momentarily troubled. "You have perfect hearing. You have perfect everything. It's wasted in that place." Then she whirled back on her Dad, "which is why I'm saying it's wasted in a mediocre place like that-"

"A mediocre place that I would teach at?" Ken said through a mouthful and gulped down loudly.

"That's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant," Noshiko's face softened with sincerity. "Why not teach at Devenford Prep.? At least there are people there we already know can facilitate," she struggled for the right word but finding none she threw her hands in the air and groaned. "You know what I mean!"

"I know Devenford's team hasn't won the championship for the last 3 years," Kira softly piped up. "But the Cyclones have."

Noshiko looked to her daughter with mixed emotions. She gnawed her lower lip while she listened to Kira's argument and in the interim her husband reached along the table to put a hand over hers.

"I don't understand why this is so controversial. Why does me making friends and joining a team make you want to put me in a different school? Just last week you were lecturing me about getting out of the house more?" Kira placed her chopsticks on the table with more force than she intended, and her words ground out with more force than she meant to as well. "I didn't join the team to upset you, but I didn't do it to make you proud either. I just joined the team because, well I like hanging out with my friends and running around, and just doing something I'm good at for once! I'm not going to get that same feeling at Devenford, I don't even want to get that feeling there! I didn't want to cause another argument between you two-"

"Argument?" Noshiko jolted in offense, she looked to her husband to explain. His teasing look of 'you gotta be kidding me' sent her around to look toward their daughter with compassion, while she held her husband's hand a bit harder. "These are not arguments. They are just...moments... where he doesn't like to concede particulars, but they're not fights. You would never cause us to fight, Kira."

"Really?" It was Kira's turn to nail her Mom with a look of skepticism.

"Really." Her Mom insisted and gestured for Kira to reach over and hold her free left hand. "You are the one thing we concede on. But that doesn't stop me from..." there it was again that intense pause that said more than she could all evening. "I just worry."

"You worry here more than you did in New York, Mom." Kira squeezed her Mom's hand and thought it might be a good time to press for more info. "Why is that?"

"Did 'almost dying in a storm' not worry you?" She had a point, but it seemed less than sincere.

"No one was dying. She was never going to die. Don't scare her," her Dad insisted in the whisper-arguing way they would when they thought she was out of earshot.

"No?" Noshiko looked to her husband and gave him a warning look. Looking back to Kira's pleading face she thought better of it. "No, you were never going to die but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be afraid."

A warning 'Eh' sound of interruption came from Ken and Noshiko amended, "cautious at least. If you go running in the direction of every temptation you will end up overburdening yourself."

"But just a few friends?" Kira pleaded meekly.

"Just a few," her Dad said in a manner that made it sound like what she asked was in a different language.

Overwhelmed between the two, Noshiko withdrew her hands. She ran them across her lap, and coming to stand she shook her head, "just a few." It seemed like a hollow victory with how much it troubled her Mom.

When Kira opened her mouth to say something, anything to get things back to where they were having an open discussion, but her Dad shook his head. His smile seemed a little sad. He mouthed for her to leave it while he stood to clear the table.

"So, then?" after a few minutes Kira grimaced as tugged on her camo bomber jacket, trying to keep her calm. "You're okay with me socializing. Having friends? Meeting the team afterschool? Does that include our traditional after game parties? - Because I would really-really like to go. Please?"

"Is there a motorcycle waiting at the end of the driveway?" her Dad asked snappishly. "Is it who I think it-"

"Go," Noshiko pushed her husband back with a firm hand, "be good. Always keep your phone on. Call if you're in trouble and need a ride. And don't miss curfew or this will be the last time."

Kira yup-ed, yes-ed and nodded as her grin lengthened while she managed to walk backward out of the front door.

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"Did you sneak out?" Scott's eyes darted around anxiously as Kira sped down the driveway toward him.

"No!" laughing she slung her leg over the bike and hugged her arms around his waist with readiness. "But if you don't get us out of here quickly my Mom might not be able to hold my Dad back a minute longer."

Scott hardly waited for the sentence to finish before he kicked out the kickstand and turned them downhill.

"I've never been to one of these parties before!" she said loud into the wind for him to hear. He flinched and she apologized when she realized he could, of course hear her anyway.

"Neither have I," he shrugged to admit. "I guess that make us both virgins." He felt grateful they weren't facing each other, and she couldn't see him blush.

"I guess so," when she laughed, he could feel it rattle up against his spine even through his jacket. "We can keep each other company."

"That's the plan!" when they coasted lower into town, along the mildly bustling Main Street, Scott informed her a of his intention. "Everyone goes to Lydia's parties. Everyone. I didn't have time to talk to my Hunter friend but if there is a place to meet safely, privately, it's going to be in a place publicly."

"That's very James Bond."

"Really? I'm that dated?" He pouted a little. "I thought it was a little cooler than that."

"Sorry, Scott, unless you're planning on fighting secret agents during the party, you're no Jason Bourne," she said smugly to which he conceded with a slightly shrug.

"Stiles will be there."

"Really?!" she then apologized for her excited squeezing and loudness in his ear again.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's going to be pretty excited to see you too," Scott said a less enthusiastically. Kira took it to mean she maybe crushed the air out of him, instead of he feared Stiles would judge the hell out of him for not running this idea by him first. The silence along the rest of the way could have been mistaken for anticipation but was the nervous realization neither could imagine getting through the night without the other. It was interesting and pleasant to feel trust like that.

.

The house already felt more hectic and energetic than Kira expected. She anticipated the Lacrosse Team; she also figured the cool kids would gravitate to Lydia's house but there were cool kids who didn't even attend Beacon Hills High there. Kira was sure there were college kids there not to mention the house felt split into what seemed like different parties in different rooms and that was the sort of 'cool kid' party she only ever saw on TV shows. The sound and smells she felt wash over her were more intense than even at the scrimmage the other day, in fact it felt like, "there are others here, aren't there?" she had to asked.

Her clothes were definitely not cool enough, not just for this party but not enough for making good first impressions. When she squeezed Scott's hand for reassurance his hand stayed limp, like he felt distracted and overwhelmed as well.

"Yeah," he said scanning the room, seeming far away instead of right beside her. When he gained some focus again, that crooked smile steadied her and he led her further in, steadily inching through the foyer. "It's okay. It's going to be cool," he reassured low.

Still, she breathed in tighter, anxious puffs expecting someone to call her a fraud. But she'd be fine, she reminded herself, the plan was 'not to leave Scott's side.'

Then suddenly Scott withdrew his fingers from hers like they burned. She looked up to ask why but his face said things that maybe he could never be put into words, and she followed his gaze to see him staring through glass doors leading to the pool. Over the distance, outside Allison bounced playfully to dance music with an awkward spazing Stiles beside her, and like ramrod Scott stood still. Even though he was frozen in step, Kira knew Scott was no longer beside her.

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Track 06 - Waiting Game (Loston Remix) by BANKS

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{Sunset – The Martins' Lydia's Party, Aires East, BH, CA}

Evening set in quicker than he expected, and Stiles worried that he wasn't on time for the festivities. He coasted through the Martins' posh neighborhood with a quickness and watched the shapes of the buildings turn from 'Lego' stacks to 'coliseum' halls. He had gotten used to neighborhoods being neighborly he had forgotten that houses themselves could be snobs until he neared her. It wasn't a bad feeling, just a cold feeling. When he turned onto the lane that became a straight shot to her house, he remembered Mrs. Martin asking where he'd been, and he apologized admitting he 'should have come to see you sooner'.

When they were little, (although Lydia remembered the names of the everyone in each and every single house), they would make up fanciful names for each castle home in the posh neighborhood, that made the icy existence tolerable. The would only ever refer to Flatface by the name, Princess McLizardButt. Zipping by the primadonna's house, Stiles saw she still wore tacky animal print like it never went out of season, and he remembered her name was Cold-flatfaced Snobbinton. But throughout Aires East, castle after castle seemed impractically fancy, with out of culture plants blooming on perfect lawns, arching back and forth over the lane like unnatural awnings. When he used to fall asleep in his Dad's backseat on the way home, he thought he dreamt this stuff up, and if it weren't for these wealthy people and their impossible expenses, he dreamt he could live there forever. Then there was of course reality, but at least him & Scott could spend summer vacations at the Martin's house.

On the way to the party, that fantastical gripped had Stiles, as he turned into her driveway as he took in the sight of her perfect house, the friendly pillars, and piled steps festooned in fairy lights. He hadn't noticed warm dusk colors eking through the steely chill, and he didn't notice the emptiness of the driveway. Stiles only hurried to hobble up her front steps and ring the doorbell before falling over.

When Lydia swung the door open Stiles' shouted, "Happy Birthday!" before she finished saying "Hello". She stood there looking stunning in black patent 4" platform pumps, wrapped up in a stunning two-toned, V-neck fitted black dress, with her hair primped and parted to perfection and a serving tray balanced with glasses of punch arranged on them.

On the other side of the door Stiles looking animated as expected, with a box wrapped fairly well but peeling because it was too wide for the doorframe, although he tried to navigate it through anyway.

"Stiles, you came back," she said quietly, then blinked and pulled together something storming behind those thoughtful eyes. "It's not my birthday," Lydia's joint wide-eyed look of surprise and jaded tone was as welcome a greeting as he would get, and he knew it.

Stiles grunted his acknowledgment as he tried several angles of below, sideways, askew, and wiggling the box through the passageway and it seemed to do a little. Disinclined to help him, Lydia sauntered away and warned him he was blocking the entrance for real guests. In a burst of entry, Stiles landed on the box and winced at the sound of a crunch from inside. He'd have to live with it, he supposed, or technically Lydia would have to, so he raced after her to let her know.

"You didn't leave it in the hallway, did you?" Lydia snapped at Stiles over her shoulder as he entered the kitchen. She didn't even look over from the cabinets where she took down more glassware than was obviously necessary.

Stiles didn't answer right away, which annoyed her immensely, but he couldn't stop staring. He just found it very amusing, not just because the place looked spectacular, decked out for a countless entourage but because for the first time in his lifetime Stiles could see over the tops of things. He could reach the microwave and cook his own hot cocoa without asking Mrs. Martin. He could reach up just like Lydia did and pull down plates and cups and he could even find out where the Snickerdoodles were hidden. He'd time-travelled, he was suddenly a grown-up here!

"Uh," he tried to remember he knew this place and should know a better answer to her question. "I didn't know where to put it."

Sure enough, she swiveled around and glared, made fiercer with her smoky eyeliner and their color seemed sharp as razors.

"Fine." She said finally. Her eyes flicked from him to the clock on the microwave, then out to the pool. She called out to Danny to let him know, although guests would be arriving soon, she'd be a minute, so keep an ear out for the door. A nondescript grunting sound came back while Danny and his friends fussed with DJ equipment so that Lydia could free up a minute to deal with Stiles. She sounded less than inviting as she said, "let's go to my room."

{Night – Danny's Party, 2nd Floor, Lydia's Bedroom}

All the vitriol Lydia had pent up from the past few days she resolved to focus on her hostess smile. But that wouldn't work if Stiles stood in the way, challenging her by literally blocking her away. Lydia watched, despairingly as the box started to rattle and Stiles continued to strain, while beaming with pride as the massive present needed to be squeezed, now pushed through her bedroom doorframe.

"Stiles, this is a blow off party- this isn't even my party. It's Danny's." She leaned against the hallway wall watching him, a little bored but a little fascinated. "Not my birthday party. What were you thinking?"

"Yeah. I know your birthday was in November." He lay his head flat on the box's surface while he shoved, his feet kept skidding beneath him. "This is a belated present. Presents." At that the doorframe finally gave a little, or the box did, and he popped, careful not to flop onto the box this time.

"Don't. Break. Anything." Lydia hurried in after him and locked them away from sight. Disheveled and breathless, Stiles was the last thing Lydia wanted her partygoers to see creepily lingering in her hallway upon entering the party.

Like an art dealer in a studio, Stiles fussed over the placement and angle of the box at the foot of her bed. Once done, his attention went starry-eyed to staring at just about everything in her room. Like a time-traveler once more.

"Hey, you've redecorated," Stiles marveled, things felt the same even though she'd moved everything around since the last time he'd been there. Not to mention she'd repainted and gotten all new furniture as well as a closet extension. She found she didn't mind. Lydia felt like she could watch him watching and wondering about everything in Beacon Hills all the time and never get bored. Did he feel summoned home or was this terminus?

He noticed her brand new alarm clock, she noticed the time.

"Could you go already?" she blurted out and shoved him toward the door.

Stiles let her move him along then spun back around mid-step, "Wait, aren't you going to open it?" Still a little winded and looking tousled from the effort, he looked a little pitiable.

"Oh. Right." Suddenly awkward, Lydia considered arguing with him, then thought against it. Her primary concern was to attend the front door, and it was obvious he was trying to soften her up... but it would also make her a bad hostess not to open a present. Of course, the sooner she did it the sooner she could get back to her party guests.

Plus, the battered box was virtually broken open anyway so she might as well. Not to mention, Lydia did especially like presents. Once she finished convincing herself to do it, she tugged apart the lid, her hand steady but feeling a little bit afraid as if something might jump out.

"It's... surprising," she said gently. After she eyed the contents, she decided she could waste another minute or two. The guys in the back had been setting up for a while, if someone came to the door, surely the could manage it.

Stiles had never seen her wordless before, as a result she'd never seen him as nervous. Each time she tried to speak her lips pressed together into something Stiles thought could be a smile, instead her lips would purse thoughtfully and then he waited for what felt like forever until she cleared her throat.

"Are those American Girl Dolls? And baby-pink wheelies? Next to a pair of last year's black ALDO booties?" turning back to the box, Lydia kept pulling out item after item. With each one her confusion grew. Her whirling mind tried to calculate a hidden message, then Stiles jumped forward to help guide hers, like a helpful conveyer belt of secondhand nostalgia.

"Well, yeah," he chuckled, with a nervous hitch to his voice. "Everything went a little out of order to fit in the box, but it's all labeled. These are for year nine, so they aren't going to fit now- There is a Razor scooter down there for year thirteen and that'd probably still work if you wanted. I guess, I mean it's not like you have to be a certain age for a scooter. Plus, it's compact like you are, no offence... and I made sure it was fully charged just in case."

When a brow arched in a sort of warning Stiles smiled briefly, like a sort of dare. Lydia ignored him and went back to the box, her hand edging the calculated mystery he set out for her.

"This jewelry box is beautiful," she cooed.

"The whole box is handmade by my aunt, Rosa." He grinned, then impatiently added, "and it's full."

"Of woman's jewelry?" she said skeptical of his taste, to which he challenged her with an arch of his brow.

"Yes!" he refused to argue more until she opened the box. She scooted near him, put the box in her lap and undid the clasp with great care. Her stilling silence resettled and before she could really assess anything he explained, "I wasn't sure what to get you. I got a lot of suggestions that year. So, I just got a bunch of stuff."

"I recognize a few from the Macy's back catalog." She said critically but kindly. She stopped over a stone different than the rest, not flashy or large-ish. "Some are very old. I love vintage."

"Cool." He grinned at her. He had his hands clasped at his back and rolled on his heels.

After a beat Lydia said wistfully, "they're my birthstones?"

"Topaz and Aquamarine. Does it fit?"

"Perfect," Lydia took off the rest of her rings, leaving only this one. She ran her thumb on the underside and felt the soft simple, goodness of it, the cyclical strength and admired the way it perfectly set the simple inlet stones.

Truly the perfect fit. To think, last year her Dad mailed her an expensive coat a size too big. When she finally got a hold of him on the phone, he said she'd grow into it. She wouldn't. She'd been 5'3 for two years.

"Awesome- so they're okay?" Stiles normally unflappable pretense frayed at the seams. There was a lot to admire in vulnerability, and Lydia felt unsure over who was manipulating whom. And over jewelry?

"You're going to make one lucky girl a great boyfriend one day." She lifted her left hand and turned it back and forth to see the ring.

"Good to know."

"Stiles, sit down already. You look exhausted. What is all this about?" she asked touching his arm, so he came down beside her.

"I wanted to move out here officially and got my stuff from storage. So, I figured bring you all your presents," he said half-truthfully. "I thought you'd be a big gesture lady. After what you said... I wanted you to know I always thought about what was happening to the people I left behind."

'After what you said...'

Emotional words hurled back and forth a week ago, things Stiles remembered very well but Lydia had tried to forget. But from the skip in her heartrate, it seemed easy enough to feel transported back into the front seat of her VW Bug, wounded beside each other.

She exhaled loudly and nodded. "All of this- for me?" Lydia glanced away toward the box, overwhelmed by the gesture and what he meant to imply.

"Uh, it's nothing, you know just stuff for things I missed. Birthdays, Christmas. Whatever the other girls didn't steal or break."

"Stiles. This is amazing." Lydia reached back and fiddled with some of the contents, mostly stuffed animals she was sure were going to make the rotation between being Prada's bedmates and hers. "Did you also get gifts for Scott every year?"

"What? Nah," Stiles shook his head reasonably, and then explained, "'cause Scott and I used to steal each other's Birthday presents, so it didn't make sense."

"I don't know what to say." She sat back and kohl-lined, bright eyes stared at him considerately.

"It's cool." He smirked, that pretense of confidence returned. "You don't have to say anything. Describe anything, any sort of emotion. Positive or elated, grateful, impressed or-"

"Pissed off. You lied to me." She didn't sound angry, so much as hurt. With a rising flush to her face, her brows came together tightly, and her mouth trembled as she started in on him. "I was worried sick about you. And you just walked off- no, you didn't just walk off you left." A tremor twisted throughout at the word 'left', like the blow of his act collided hard enough Lydia felt the hurt of it still. And Stiles was responsible, even if he didn't know. "That was cruel," Lydia accused him.

"Hey, I apolo-" Stiles started, bewildered.

"Subtly blaming me for what you did wrong isn't an apology!"

"I was coming back," he defended what little ground he could grasp.

"You know that's not the point," she sighed, absent-mindedly and ran her thumb along the ring's band.

Inwardly, Lydia dared Stiles to know what it felt like, to have someone steal your breath as they went away and left you behind. To have people tell say it'll be over in a minute, like the panic was insignificant, like life-changing things weren't worth the anxiety. Maybe it was vicious to hope his supernatural senses picked up on it, so when Stiles' eyes seemed to darken, he looked chastised, and his breath came off a little hitched Lydia immediately felt guilty and miserable for her racing thoughts.

After a twitching hesitation Stiles put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "The point was to leave so that I can come back for good, so I could come back to you... all of you. I needed to just make it a grand gesture so that everyone could get that, which is why I left."

"Stiles, that doesn't make sense," her brow rose skeptically.

"It does if you think about it. Okay, try to think about it from my end-"

"I might have understood if you talked to me," and finally Lydia her voice rose, she started to sound pissed off. Her frustration slipped into each syllable, "but you didn't just leave. On top of that you ignored me. We promised not to do that."

"I- I What? Right." Quick witted but wasteful, Stiles fumbled for words.

When he recognized her sad and struggling temper, he relived it all in a moment. Their first real fight in the quiet dawn outside of his Dad's house the night he arrived home, when he confessed his fear of rejection, of being ignored. Since then, she'd kept her side of the bargain and whether it was pretend boyfriend-ing or blubbering late-night voicemails or tree un-lynching, she responded but when she begged him just to get back in the car, he rejected her- followed up by leaving the city. Her anger now felt worse and worthwhile.

"And you've been lying since the beginning," Lydia protested. The fabric of her dress hem rubbed up against the denim fabric of his thigh and made zip sounds like an interrupting fly. It grew louder as she edged nearer, as she persisted. "You made it seem like you never wanted to come back to Beacon Hills. When I found you in the woods, and we were wondering why you just camped out - you said 'it wouldn't have been fair to stick around' like you were a passing through tourist, and we were townies. You don't buy presents every year for people you don't plan on going home to!"

Overwhelmed, Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, "sure, the Hale Homestead is my home, sometimes-" It was clear from his uncertain expression and flailing gestures, he meant to say more but the clear and simple truth was all that came to mind. He sighed, " - that's just sometimes. Just 'cause I didn't want to think of coming back doesn't mean I didn't think of you all. Haven't you ever felt like people, like someone-"

The bedroom door popped open with the presence of a disoriented classmate Matt with a strained expression and an empty solo cup in his hand.

"This is not a bathroom!" Lydia shot to her feet, shoved him out with enough force to send him sailing and slammed it closed behind him. Mentally she changed gears, pressing the flatness of her hand to the bedroom door to remind her that the party was underway, and she was on the wrong side of the door. She grasped for solidness, away from whirling thoughts and Stiles' too muchness. Lydia turned to him. "Alright, I've got to go."

"Right. Because it's your party." Stiles understood but felt disjointed. His eyes skimmed the room again, lingering on every surface. Except her.

"Right." Lydia readied herself, oblivious to his squeamishness. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened the silhouetted lines of her fitted dress. Once transformed she called to him in her most charming, hostess tone, "you should come downstairs. Have a good time, don't forget to try the punch." Then after a pause, added warmer, "or you could relax for a minute, stare at the decor if you want. And thank you for the presents. I am happy to see you."

They shared a look, a subtle smile which Stiles thought was kinder than he deserved at the moment.

"Thanks," releasing the bedspread, he lifted a hand to wave bye and said the smartest thing that came to mind as she withdrew "it's good to -I mean you're welcome."

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Track 07 - Passive Aggressive (Brothers in Rhythm Remix) by Placebo

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{Night – Lydia's Party, Kitchen}

"You promised," Lydia snapped.

"I know I promised 'no drama'," Isaac saddled up beside her while she prodded at things on shelves taller than herself. He insisted, "but I just have a small question."

"A question that is fundamental to your attending my party?" Lydia said sharpish, implying that his answer would determine the worth of his presence.

"What?" Isaac stumbled to a stop. Then reconsidered his verbal approach, "No. Not exactly."

"Not exactly, meaning you came here exactly to ask me the question or you came here entirely for the party and the question popped into your head?" she flipped around his reasoning as easily as she tossed the 12pack of paper towels into his dangling arms.

"Neither. Scott and Stiles asked me too-" if Isaac had put any forethought, he should have known bringing up those troublemakers would make matters worse. How Lydia managed to walk him down a few halls, through a closet-size door and locked him out through the garage, he had no clue. While it was of course her property, he had also been to several of her parties and never noticed any of those hallways before. Isaac raced around the property to the front door once more and back into her kitchen.

"I bet you didn't even need all of these," he hefted an armful of paper towels onto the kitchen counter.

Looking benignly, Lydia turned to face him, while between them on the kitchen island lay dozens of dishes, including half drunken punch glasses, finger bowls used as ashtrays and hundreds of half spilled, beer violated solo cups littering the space.

From beside her a large black girl, with long dangling earrings and a loud laugh dropped her tone to icy at the sight of him. Looking him from bottom to top she pursed her lips and made a fairly accurate judgment call.

"I think you just found yourself another volunteer for dish duty," Danielle gave Isaac a hard look before rolling her eyes and walking past. "You've definitely got enough napkins for it. I'll go find Heather and Bridget and see if they found any more empty cups upstairs."

In the epicenter of the party, people only poked their heads in for another cup, plate, napkin or for directions to the bathroom. Occasionally there was a 'have you seen where [insert name] is?' Aside from all of that, they were left in relative peace while Isaac cleared off dishes and Lydia cleared out the last load from her dishwasher. When Isaac thought enough time had passed, which was probably a beat earlier than he should have tried for, he asked again if he could ask Lydia a question.

"Isaac," she smacked closed the machine with more force than necessary, "what makes you think I have all the answers?"

"Because you're Lydia Martin. You're the girl that knows everyone and everything," Isaac offered lamely, with an affable shrug.

Pursing her lips, Lydia combed her long straightened hair back over her shoulders and tried not to find him too flattering. "Ask your question."

Smirking, he drew nearer, collected himself to his highest height and tossed the mulching paper towel into the garbage without looking.

"It's about a tree, that's all."

"That's it?" she didn't look convinced.

"That's it," he inched closer, when someone bumbled in to look for napkins Isaac tossed some at their head. "Just a tree. Well, maybe a couple of trees that talk to teach each other and connect so technically one. It's complicated, so it might take some explaining."

"Do you have an IQ higher than 170?"

"No."

"Did you really think I'd need for you to explain to me superorganisms and their manipulation of Mycorrhizal networks?"

"Uh," Isaac stepped back when she stepped up, "No?"

"Was your question for me to explain that to you?"

"No, that'd be useless," he sputtered. "I don't think I'd understand that even if you drew it out for me."

"Smartest thing you've said tonight," she rolled her eyes and looked around the room for something else, anything else to call her away. "So, if that's it?"

"No, I wanted to ask you- I guess, if you'd seen one?"

"One what?"

"One tree, or trees like that."

Lydia sighed, annoyed, "no. Now can I get back to partying with my friends." She gestured vaguely toward the pool area where their eyes caught onto strangers where, while they could probably name Stiles capturing Allison up in his spastic gestures among the herd, neither of them wanted to count them among the label of 'friends' at the moment. Lydia huffed, took a step back and then another towards the pool.

"Fine." Isaac breathed out, almost in relief. He gestured to the air like he waved off the burden of having to speak for Scott and Stiles. "They asked me to ask you about the Nemeton. Now, I did it, and it's done. I've kept up my end of the promise, no drama."

Just like that moment in the library when she froze and got that distant look in her eyes, suddenly Lydia worried him, almost like she could see through him the mentioned he said the word 'Nemeton.'

"Lydia?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," her eyes snapped into focus, the moment his fingers touched her bare arm. "Right. Yeah, I'm fine. Of course. What did you say?"

"About what?"

"You asked me about-"

"-the Nemeton."

"It wasn't a tree," Lydia's mouthed barely parted and her words became whispers, "it was a stump. It was massive. I didn't think it was real. It was in the Hale House."

"It's in the Hale House?" excited Isaac gripped her arm, his voice turned into a harsh whisper. She stared down at his fingers, they felt like fire and ash against her skin.

"No, no. Uhm, I saw it during the fire at the House, but that tree had burned away," she moved out of his reach. He was kind enough to get her a glass of water. She pushed it away and grabbed a red solo cup full of beer. After downing it, she held onto the side of the counter and looked around the room like she looked at a different landscape entirely. "It kept chasing me everywhere. I couldn't see- after being chased, I ended up there. I felt safe there. I don't know if it was a memory or a dream because of the smoke from the fire, it made me see things. Violent things."

When Lydia took a long pause, stuck in her memory Isaac plucked the crushed cup out of her hand and placed a hand over hers.

"That smoke made me see things, too." Isaac said and she looked to him in dazed recognition, like he had just appeared in the fog. "I saw them. Erica and Boyd. And Cora. They weren't how I remember things turning out on Northbridge. They seemed pretty unhappy with me."

"Have you had nightmares about them?" she asked already knowing the answer. He shrugged like it took all his effort to do so and she knew it meant 'yeah'.

"You don't have to believe everything you see in dreams. It's just electrical impulse activity in the brain." Lydia straightened herself, looked him straight in the eye and he smiled at the act. When that didn't convince him, she added, "Take it from an expert, just because dreams know the truth about some things doesn't mean they don't also lie."

"They're not exactly the most straightforward dreams," he said like with a twinge of distaste, "I re-remember things in different orders. But it ends pretty much the same, they're always watching me and I'm always dying."

"Watching you or watching over you?"

Isaac shrugged again, his shoulders had gotten heavier.

"So, it was not a heroic impulse that sent you running to the woods but survivors' guilt?" Lydia prodded but it wasn't a question. She sensed things clearly what others took longer to realize, and Isaac took longer than most. "Are you sure about that? Considering this is Beacon Hills, if you really wanted to die, you could have just waited around for your turn."

"Hah, hah," Isaac finally broke a smile, "what about you? Did your dreams about dying give you any insight?"

Lydia's sigh turned into a scowl, "I don't know- but if you wanted to know more about the Nemeton you could have just asked. Not that a dream is a reliable source of information, but I can tell you for certain, you're not going to find it on a map. It looked almost burnt to its roots, it's been cut down and hurt. It's in hiding, now."

"I thought you said it was massive."

"It is."

"If it's anything like as big as I'm picturing, it's almost the size of a small house," Isaac looked reflective, mind went back to the Nemeton their family secure back at the Hale Homestead and he couldn't envision where another tree stood in its likeness. "But it was burned down?"

Lydia tried not to remember her drug induced visioned, she wanted to shake off the image of laying prostrated on the ridged flats of gnarled tree surfaces. She distracted herself with dusting off invisible dirt from her new blue party dress, while considering the next outfit change or music alteration. But the moment Isaac brought up her nightmares in the Hale House, her heartrate sped up and mind raced a bit with the quickness of how everything flooded back. The smattering of rain, the smell of blood mixed with dirt, and feel of tree rings under the grip of her nails.

"No. Not burnt exactly." She recalled the texture of dark ridges, "it looked like it was struck by lightning. Then it caught fire. That's not the same thing."

"And you don't think there's anything strange about the Nemeton burning down just like the Hale House?" Isaac thought through.

"I think that old wooden things burn down," Lydia shoved him away none too gently. "And I think you're just fishing for conspiracies. You said, 'one question'. You asked it, now let me get back to my guests. And you better keep your promise."

"Of course, 'No Drama'." Isaac crossed his heart, and yet he attempted to lure her into his conspiracy again. "But you've got to admit it, dreaming about the Nemeton catching fire while in a fire at the Hale House has got to be more than just a coincidence."

"Like suffering repeated episodes of PTSD down the road from the original incident," Lydia shrugged dismissively.

"Ok, I'll give you that one," he grabbed up a towel and went back to drying dishes quietly. For all of 15 seconds. "But what if-"

"Isaac, I've studied and learned exactly what pitch it is that can make a Werewolf's bowels loosen. All I have to do is go over to Danny and ask him to change a track and you will be-"

Isaac's jaw dropped, his palms sweat, and pulse immediately quickened. "Y-you do not actually know that."

"Do you want to test me?" her expression was still, her eyes barely blinking and looking deadly rimmed with coal liner. "Just let me have one night off already."

Putting himself in her shoes, (not literal of course as that would both be pricey and painful) Isaac tried to show some compassion for someone pulling off a masterpiece of an evening while dealing with an inquisition in the kitchen. Whatever else he had to ask, it could wait a night.

"Alright," he led her away from the kitchen-y chores and back to the party. To be honest he was shocked she let herself be led away but he was pleased at the turn of events. "One party. As promised. No drama."

As if on cue they looked up to see Allison stop dancing with Stiles because Scott entered the house holding hands with Kira. Lydia virtually bristled.

"What's he doing here?" She wasn't angry but there was an edge like glass to her voice, "he never comes to my parties."

"The whole Lacrosse Team was invited," he cut in automatically before he thought out his words. And figured he might as well follow through. "And technically, this is Danny's party."

Lydia's breath drew in a mechanical measure, like she was revving up for anger or struggling to keep it down.

"I got this," immediately Isaac jumped forward. "No drama. Don't worry, I got this." He continued to assure her as he aimed toward the drama and Lydia stormed off in the opposite direction.

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Track 08 - Wonderfully Stupid Mash by Garbage vs Dannii Minogue

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{Dusk – Argents' House, 1st Floor, The Den to the Party}

"I don't think you like me very much," Bennet said with a great sigh and plummeted onto the couch beside Allison. Shaken, she stared at him in shock and struggled to collect herself.

"You never struck me as the type who needed external validation," she said immediately, then settled comfortably beside him before thinking a better thought. "I like you. Of course, I do, why would you even say that?"

"So, you are saying you think I'm attractive?" he cocked a brow, a bright-eyed concept rattling around within. He unsettled her this time, she shook her head and knocked awake her fullest attention. Bennet looked freshly shaven, smelled of Calvin Klein's Obsession and wore an outfit artfully put together to look like he hadn't spent hours trying to look casually striking.

"Bennet, whatever you're up to I'm not in a playing mood. Can't you see I'm trying to study?" she waved at her display of books. "So, just find someone else to stroke your GQ ego."

"Allison, I've walked by in three different outfits in the past hour, and you haven't once asked me to go to this party with you."

Allison took a deep breath a prepared for a debate.

"I'd like very much to point out that you're studying for tests that you're likely to have failed anyway for punking out on." He plucked the textbook she held upside down from her hands. "I'm also stir crazy and stressed. You can pretend to study for last week's midterms some other night but tonight, on a Saturday night I might add, just ask me out."

At that Allison started to giggle, Bennet certainly did look handsome, and she was doing a crap job preoccupying herself. The stress of keeping busy and not stressing was driving her up the walls. Clearly, she wasn't the only one, but going to Lydia's party, just the idea of it-

"Bennet," she half-whined, "I can't go. What am I going to say? How can I look my friends in the face after knowing what Kate and my Mother are up to- what they've been up to under my nose?"

Rubbing comfort into her arm he lightly insisted, "even though they're Werewolves and they've got a pretty good idea about the Argent history, they're still your friends. I mean Lydia knew what they were doing before you did. If you want to stay home to sulk and convince yourself you've gotta carry the weight of the world alone, you'll crack...You want to take off and call it quits? I've got your back. But you want to stretch your legs your legs for a bit, I'm a helluva dance partner," he winked at her and lowered his voice a little further. "Plus, if the 'rents will be expecting you to spy on your friends, wouldn't it be more suspicious if you stayed home?"

"Alright," she cut off his rambling. Something about Bennet's verbal equation added up in Allison's brain and compensated for her stress. He analyzed the situation in a way she couldn't do but should have all along. A spark started up in Allison and she felt herself sitting upright, heading upstairs. "You're right. I need to go. Not for them. For Lydia. I mean, she did buy me a pretty floral dress."

That isn't to say Allison didn't cling to Bennet's arms as they walked up Lydia's driveway. She didn't feel guilty, not really. She felt overwhelmed, like a soldier weighed down with too many weapons and Bennet was right; heading to her friends once and a while could resolve some tension.

"Swanky," Bennet whistled in admiration. Allison nodded. Dropping from one environment into another, the overbearing stillness of the Argents' to the buzzing hospitality of the Martins' was a striking difference. "Why does Lydia even come by our dull house?"

"For me." Standing upright, Allison answered smugly and pulled open the front door.

A rush of noise assaulted them, the brightness of party lights in contrast to the dimming of dusk. The foyer was filled with the double music of the inside humming of high talking and low dancing while in the far back outside by the pool there was a thumping bass. All around lay bowls with snacks and snacks and more snacks to choose from while solo cups were littered sparsely. The hallway had benches filled with partners making out and girlfriends gossiping on the other end. In the main room, a fireplace was filled with flowers instead of fire and it flowed until it spilled onto the carpet. The furniture was moved far apart so people could dance but few stood, and they mostly swayed drunkenly while people on the couches admired. A table held so much food and snacks there was hardly a table. A little push and panic came from party-goer's complaints and the organizers tried their best to move a beer keg through a crowd.

"Hey Allison!" called out a friend, "a little help!"

"Oh, sure Danny!" she quickly shut the door and help angle the heavy metal keg back onto the hand truck.

"Thanks," he groaned and pulled at the handles until it stood upright. "The delivery guy wouldn't bring it all the way in once he saw the crowd." They looked at each other, an expression of woeful recognition. They couldn't fault the delivery guy in his hesitation.

With some swift protest Allison fell back onto instinct and shoved back rowdier obstacles and when Danny asked, "Hey handsome, want to lend a hand?"

"Oh, he's talking to me of course," Bennet was quick to comply and help push the keg to kitchen. Allison was too amused by Bennet's beaming vanity to mind being left behind meant she had no idea where to put her hands.

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Track 09 - Ease My Mind (Jai Wolf Remix) by Skrillex

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{Night – Lydia's Party, Foyer to Living Room}

"Jeez-Allison is that you?" the near panicked tone made Allison's smile hesitate but his clambering down the stairs made her laugh.

"Stiles! You're back!" she practically hopped in place and again, not knowing what to do with her hands, she kept them clasped in front of her. Allison almost hugged Stiles but then remembered they didn't do that. They didn't know each other that well, did they?

Searching her over like a prized animal, top to bottom, from back to front, excitement exaggerated his every mannerism. Stiles practically pounced on Allison until his hands came up twitchingly in obvious restraint, recognizing they weren't there, they weren't yet friends enough to grab and hold and hug and stuff, "screw it!"

Stiles threw his arms around her tight enough he knocked her forehead hard against his chin. Allison laughed, unwound after a second, and then brought her hands up to rest on his back. She could feel the way his anxious breaths eased in her embrace, and he felt comfort from her familiar scent, that high-wire act of power and nerves, even tied up with a lotus scented shampoo, tickling under his nose.

"You're not dead!" He leaned back still holding her by the shoulders.

Having had just about enough of it, Allison pushed off his hold while still grinning madly, "yes. Obviously. Why would you think-" then it occurred to her, while she had been way-sided by Argent business she had left Stiles on the limb about, "-that Kanima stuff."

Stiles face dropped in decibel from confused to concerned. "Yeah, that Kanima stuff. You know if I didn't hear from you soon, I was this close to chloroforming the bastard and throwing him in the lake." He practically mimed with enthusiasm to exercise his distress.

"And what would that solve?" Allison crossed her arms and smirked, he balked in thought and his flubbing all but charmed her. "And were you working on that chloroform up with Lydia in her bedroom?"

Stiles eyebrows raised significantly, "is this any way for BFF's4EVER to catch up?" He grabbed her by the elbow and navigated them away from the foot traffic, easily sidestepping her question. Eventually they found their way into the edge of the party's epicenter, to use the thumping music to cover their words but Stiles' attempt at normalcy was spastic.

Allison's eyes went wide, any remaining nerves were reduced to shaking laughter.

"Let's dance," she grabbed his hand and led them out of the foyer.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't really do that," Stiles started to explain before the noise covered anything else he could argue after that.

While Allison may have meant for the thumping music to make cover for them to speak, but his spastic attempt at dancing only brought more attention. The music might reverberate like landing jets but that didn't mean he should dance like he needed to wave in aircraft carriers. After about a minute of nodding and shifting her weight from foot to foot with prodding instruction Stiles followed her hand gestures and slowed his pace. He grinned down at her, pleased with himself at what he thought was a brilliant cover for their conversation.

"You said you'd check-in call after seeing the Lizard king," he said a little loudly toward her ear, to be heard through the music. "I left you about a zillion messages. If I weren't sleep-deprived and veering off the road and deathly afraid of taking on a house full of Hunters I would have come banging on your door."

The clear recollection of switching off her phone came to Allison's mind. Thinking of Stiles' desperate was enough to consider storm in to find her while she was investigating the Lodge was a terrifying thought.

"I'm sorry," she shuddered, leaned up and whisper shouted, "Things got complicated at home. But-" she felt alight with better news, "things went well with Jackson. Really well, better than expected. He saw the photos- we talked for a while. He said that was the first time he was in the driver's seat. He wants to do whatever it takes to get back control and I believe him. He's on board."

Annoyed he didn't have his notebook, Stiles made a mental note of it. It could be eagerness just like Allison said or it could be the Kanima performing another deception. He hated to think that was possible and that a Master could have that sort of mental control because it made him question Scott's power of self-control, too.

"Are you kidding me? In the driver's seat?" Stiles leaned back in surprised, "On board? What's that supposed to mean? He's going to pilot everything as easily as 1-2-3 just because he saw a bunch of photos?!"

"I don't know," her brow fixed in pained reflection, something wasn't sitting right. "It's always better when they know. Maybe if he wasn't friendless and mixed up, he'd be able to better navigate a world with Kanimas in it. If he says he's willing to do whatever it takes to regain some ground," Allison seemed less skeptical and more objective about it, "I have to help. You promised to suppor-"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. The song changed, sound stopped and started up again as if it knew to listen to his body-language as well as his words. His head jutted to the side like he thought the answer might be at the door. When he looked back, an easier smile returned. "Yeah, yeah. I got your back. Kanima is the least in control and the most adaptive shapeshifter I've ever learned about. And Jackson is the most messed up creep I've ever known so yeah, he's going to need a lot more help to get it together."

"There's my BFF4EVER I've grown to know!" Allison praised softly and punched him lightly in the shoulder and kept her hand there. He closed his eyes. In a rare sense of modesty Stiles took the compliment with a shake of his head.

"There's something else," she regretted interrupting their peaceable lull. "Bennet and I, we have a working theory about the...'Lizard King's' roots. Not his Master but someone else. An Alpha had to have made him, right? Normally an Alpha would take responsibility for their, you know, 'abomination'."

Stiles groaned in dismay and hung his head, mumbling "unless it's a fucking flake, like a Monster-Alpha. Ammiright? That's where you're going with this."

"That's the theory anyway," she ducked her head to the side to see his expression, to see if there was any light of recognition, of credibility. Sure, Bennet was her partner and smart, but Stiles was bright as a spark and had the advantage of a Werewolf pack behind him. He wouldn't be working off a hunch, he'd be working off a lineage of experience.

"It's smart. It makes sense," he looked up and nodded several times. He smiled but didn't seem pleased at all, just sort of satisfied. "You know, we've been looking into 'Origins' plus it fits. He's been acting out for how long?"

"Lydia said he's been acting strange since they broke up at the end of the year- last school year."

"So, late June?" Stiles verbally calculated, "Scott in the fall and Lydia this winter. That matches. It means the Monster-Alpha is vicious but only strong enough to attempt a Beta once a season. It isn't strong enough to act on the Full Moon when another pack can fight back at full strength."

Allison thought back to an earlier conversation, something whispered in the trust of Scott's arms when things were once falling into place. "We did figure It was trying to build an army from kids in the town, since adolescents are more malleable. So, does that mean It'll stop killing until June?"

"Probably not," he snorted indelicately. "That just means It hasn't forged a pack right now - which is kinda good, now if we could just-"

"Stop the other attacks," It seemed like the colors of the lights in the roomed dimmed to Allison. As usual, just finding an answer solved nothing, and despite the flashing party light, the tone of her world felt greyer, and she wished she'd stayed home.

"Exactly. Meanwhile, we still don't know how the targets are chosen or the motive behind attacks, because we are trying to distinguish one culprit from another," He paused, noting Allison's stillness and the growing worry across her heart-shaped face. He held her by the shoulders and shook her gently until she rattled slightly to what could vaguely be measured to the music. "But you did a great job Allison. This'll help. I don't know how yet, but it will."

Blinking owlishly up at him, Allison steadied onto her feet and brought his hands down into hers. "Yeah, thanks. We're making a good team so far, don't you think?"

"Sure, but cut me some slack. Try dinner and a movie before you screw me next time," he chuckled. They exchanged glances and when Allison moved back to walk further into the party Stiles pulled her back once more by the elbow. "Allison, there's something else. It's going to involve you and Scott, soon enough. I thought you should know-"

If Allison expression of fear and dismay hadn't been enough to push him off, then the universe summoning Scott into existence at the front door, cutting off their conversation clearly enough was. Scott looked clueless and innocent while holding Kira Yukimura's hand to lead her over the threshold, and it seemed like the most damning thing in the world.

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Track 10 - Love and Wonder (Club Edit) by DJ Earworm

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{Night - Lydia's Party, Main Room}

"Hey, guys when did you get here?" Isaac rushed to the side of Allison and Stiles. He interrupted their stillness and spoke a little too loud. They looked at him startled and agitated.

Stiles simply shook his head in disappointment at Isaac's failed attempt at distraction while Allison stuttered, "Hi, uhm, excuse me a sec," then made a beeline for Scott.

"What the hell is going on?" Isaac gripped Stiles' arm hard, his eyes wide and buggy with sick excitement. "Did you not give Allison a heads-up on Scott's date?"

"She's not his date," Stiles scowled, "anyway... you ever notice how different Kira looks when she's not on fire?" Isaac dropped his hold on Stiles arm, out of abject shock, as though they were speaking different languages. Undeterred Stiles continued, "Well, I wanted to give Scott the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn't just bring a date to Lydia's party and not give Allison a heads up. Clearly, I was mistaken," Stiles looked to Isaac, slowly and with a growing look of panic. Simultaneously the two leapt forwards to take chase after Allison and perform damage control.

.

"Scott, where've you been?" Allison said brightly at the sight of him, in complete contrast to when she saw him last in the library. If she were a different Allison, she might have followed up with 'I miss you' but this Allison said it worriedly, and not lovingly.

"Allison," Scott said differently. He voiced a relief that meant, 'I missed you' and so he looked quickly away. Distance from her meant more than physical, it also meant distract with work, but not the only reason he came, and he looked to Kira. "This is Kira. I've been with her the past few days. Kira, this is Allison, the one I told you about."

Barely getting over the grandiose foyer of the Martin's home, never mind the snack tables, Kira tried and failed to wrap her mind around the social situation. She reached again for Scott's hand and squeezed harder on it for help. But when things snapped into place, she ripped her hand from his, her eyes lit up, mouth dropped in surprise and hands flew to her mouth.

"Allison, my friend Kira could use your help." Scott tried to calm Kira with an encouraging smile before he looked back to Allison and nodded, conveying silently a need. Her face stilled with thoughtful anticipation, hanging on his next words. "... you know, in your field of expertise."

Unexpectedly, Allison didn't catch on as quickly as Kira. Allison blinked slowly and added up what she knew about Scott, his outgoingness, his too-noble nature. In addition to his missing days. Then she understood and gave Scott everything he wanted in one of her thousands secret smiles, it gave hope and security. Slow like honey and bright with delight, hope spread across her face. "Really, Kira? How wonderful!"

"Allison? You're a person who, you know, does the-" Kira's excitement rose with the speed of her words.

"You two know each other?" Bewildered, Scott stepped back and stared between the two.

They looked surprised to realize Scott still stood there.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Allison looked back to Kira. Without hesitation Kira reached out to grab Allison's hand and was lead swiftly down the hall, through the throng of partygoers, down into a dark and mysterious basement behind a locked door.

In the bumbling effort of stooges Scott went to follow, with Isaac and Stiles in quick but too late pursuit.

"What the hell just happened?" Isaac asked, jostling the knob on the basement knob liked it was a panic button. It was perfectly possible with his superior strength that he could break it, but he seemed preoccupied with gossipy intensity.

"I don't know, I just introduced them, and they took off," Scott said like a kid who just realized he misplaced his favorite toy.

"Hey, guy," Stiles stepped forward and put his body in the way. "Before you destroy something, like your dignity maybe, how about you just give it a couple of minutes. Yeah? Just trust Allison. I mean isn't she trained for this sort of stuff... like actually trained for this and not just a thing she says to win an argument."

Both guys looked at Stiles in surprise that he'd defend Allison. It was unlike him, at least without an agenda. They weren't entirely convinced, so although they stood down, they wouldn't leave the hallway. They stayed like centurions on either side of the door, waiting for the moment it creaked open and they could pounce.

"You're both being ridiculous."

"You saw Kira's face. She looked totally unprepared for anything that could happen," Isaac argued.

"That could be good, couldn't it?" Scott looked between the two, his face a brewing pile of nerves.

"Of course, Scott. It's what you wanted isn't?" Stiles reminded, plopping down on a bench nearby. "Wasn't that the whole reason for coming?"

"Well, yeah?" Scott seemed unconvinced. He turned away from Stiles, unwilling to listen to reason. Isaac went back to leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and looking absently toward the party, pretending to be too cool to worry. "We'll just see how it goes, I guess."

Groaning Stiles got up, "'Well, yeah?' I'm going to go party, you know, at the party. Where there's partying happening, while you do the worrying. Let me know how this goes. I might bring you back some snacks, so you don't starve... unless they've got sliders then you're on your own." As he continued to call down the hall while walking away backward, Stiles worried the longer they hovered by the door, the closer they would get to mounting it. It scared him how contagious worrying could be. Large crowds and close proximity messed with his senses, and he'd much rather bouncing around strangers.

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Track 11 - Flux (Metal on Metal Remake) by Bloc Party

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{Night – Lydia's Party, Basement}

"Am I worrying you?" Allison chuckled, feeling surprised. She sounded a little more intense then intended as she shoved objects around the basement, unearthing things to use as furniture.

"Well, yeah." Kira came over and helped move a Kayak. On the count of 3 they tipped it over and steadied it. Pleased with her redecoration, Allison pulled herself up on the edge, dropped her purse on one side and with eyes just shy of a Disney princess, implied Kira should sit beside her. But Kira hesitated to join her feeling she was 'damned if you do, damned if you don't', she gulped audibly and said whatever came first to mind.

"I didn't know anything was going on between you and Scott, and we've been sneaking behind your back- plus you're, so," Kira gestured at her in an abstract way that meant to display Allison. "You."

With a light eye-roll to the heavens in recognition to the word 'sneaking'. "You'll notice 'sneaking' is practically religious observance around here. If you're doing it right, then you're a good friend and daughter," Allison corrected strictly, but then softened her tone. "But I think the rest of that was a meant as a compliment?"

Kira nodded, landing to settle beside Allison she smiled, confidence returning to the surface of her skin.

"From you, I'll take it. But you're pretty bad ass from what I've noticed," Allison titled her head in thought and radiated calm. The moment reminded of why Kira asked to be study-partners to begin with. She seemed careful and serene-like when she calculated, hardly as hardboiled as he made Hunters seem. "You're athletic enough to jump from star of the Track team into the Lacrosse team in a week. You've got two full grown Werewolf bodyguards upstairs rushing after you. I'm going to guess, since you were supposed to meet me in that library when Jackson tore it up but turned up perfectly fine the next day, then you the one who put enough voltage in him to knock the city into the dark ages."

"That's ahh," Kira felt a bubbling of laughter in her, something born of nerves and relief, she hugged around her middle to keep control. "I guess I can see why you could think that."

As she calculated, Allison's thoughts became calmer and kinder because this wasn't investigating a phenomenon, it was the new girl. It was Kira, it helped to remember that. She hopped down, held out her hand and wiggled her fingers until Kira accepted.

"That's just observation but it doesn't matter what other people think, it matters what you think," Allison brought Kira over to sit gently on the overturned Kayak. "Tell me everything, and if there's anything I can do, I swear, I'll help."

Looking around the room readying herself, Kira nervously smiled and tugged the line of her skirt over her thighs.

"There's a lot to say, but it doesn't make any sense," she said shyly, but it felt profoundly significant.

Allison's sweet lengthened, eager for it, "let me be the judge of that."

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Track 12 - Power and Control (Allen Simans Remix) by Marina and the Diamonds

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{Later – Lydia's Party, Basement}

Sometime later and they still hadn't run out of things to say. Scott said Allison was some sort of an expert, so it wasn't surprising that she understood so much and questioned little. What was surprising was surprising was the sense they shared that they'd known each other for a lifetime. If Kira's nerves made her struggle a calm touch on the shoulder from Allison made everything come easier. The longer they sat next to each other, the warmer they aligned, and replies came easier all the time. Especially when reminiscing about how weird it was to be rushed by their all-knowing parents, back to the phenomenally strange town of Beacon Hills.

From Allison's soft gaze it felt like the universe hung on Kira's words. She was a kind listener when the conversation got tough, especially then. It made it easier to share the worst of it, "That's when Isaac died?"

Kira nodded.

"Did he tell you I was in the woods with him?"

Kira shook her head. Allison's brow creased thoughtfully, "well, I don't think it's very strange. I'm not surprised you sensed at least the both of them. Everything that happened was very traumatic."

It was a brief recognition that opened floodgates. Kira shared about the car crash, not the way she told Scott but the way it felt to touch the air. She shared the words her Mom said when she came over the ledge and about the Hunter who met them. After a blink in recognition of the description, Allison nodded, and assured Kira she would explain later.

"That's not uncommon, not if you're the type of shapeshifter-"

"My type?"

After a pause she resumed, "why didn't you go to your parents for answers? Why did you go to Scott?"

Kira reconsidered, "they don't think I can handle this. But me and Scott, we're alike. Anyway, I don't think I can trust them."

That was a feeling Allison related to.

"Alright, I can explain, but it's complicated," she hurried through it, sounding alert. "Your shapeshifter nature, it's not anything like Scott's. Yours is historically Japanese, not European. He was turned by a bite, and you're naturally born this way. It's hereditary. Have you ever heard of a Kitsune?"

"In old folk tales? My Dad used to read to stories about the trickster fox-"

"I think your parents read it to you for a reason," Allison interrupted, her strained expression said she empathized with any child who lived beneath a parent's lies. "Maybe they did it because one day they wanted to explain the rest, for those specifics I'll have to do a test to make sure." A brief smile, so sweet and sure Kira took immediate comfort in it, "but I will make sure."

That certainty made Kira tell Allison about seeing Lydia in the hospital. With a little visible discomfort, Allison sat a straighter in recognition of the name. She began to apologize, as if she could mend whatever breach of trust she'd just caused between the two best-friends - Allison cut her off, "honestly its fine. Lydia keeps us all on our toes, she's good at that sort of thing."

And when Kira told her about the photos in the shed -

And when Kira told her about returning to the crash site -

And when Kira told her about the fight with the Shewolf on the Lane by her home -

Allison finally, cautiously responded, "Scott's right."

"What do you mean?" Kira wondered, since as much as she could recall Scott hadn't said more to her aside from 'Allison, this is Kira.'

Allison hopped off the edge, secured her hair up tightly and turned to stand squarely in front Kira.

"You're definitely someone I'd prefer to cut class with, instead of taking midterms. Now, get up." With a smug smile on her face and with her hands on her hips, Allison enticed her. "It's my turn to check you out."

Giggling nervously, Kira hopped down, with an extra bounce and followed Allison's gesture toward the center of the room. She looked around and studied the silver gold cast of the party light seeping through the low windows. It made their every move feel more energetic, bouncier.

"I promised I'd get some answers." Allison snatched her purse and rummaged through it. "Remember, specifics I wanted to be sure about."

Clenching and unclenching her fingers at her side, Kira felt reluctant to agree, especially when Allison discarded her purse after she withdrew a baton.

"I've got no doubt you're a Kitsune, but there are 12 types." Allison flicked out the baton and it extended to the length of a foot and a half. "Celestial, Void, Wind, Spirit, Fire, Earth, River, Ocean, Mountain, Forest, Thunder, Time and Sound. If I had to gamble, I'd say you're a Thunder type, but let's test that theory."

"Do you always carry t-that?"

Allison looked at the weapon and shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. Now, Kira, everything is going to be okay. From everything you've told me, you only manifest your abilities under stress, so I'm going to cause a little stress."

With that the baton fired to life, electricity coiled around it and startled Kira to stand taller. The hair all over her body rose, meanwhile Allison eased back, her left leg bent slightly, her right leg pushed back, and her right arm drew back while her left was used as a guard. "But I promise, you are not going to be in any danger."

It felt like the particle in her lungs came apart and the air around changed weight. Kira looked to Allison in panic, "Wait, no. What about you? I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Allison swung the baton forward, but made no contact. "All you've got to do is take the electricity from me before I can make contact. It's okay, I'm trained for this."

An excitement stirred up in Kira different from any time before. Although her mouth opened to protest, her hands came up, palms out and legs in a stance to fight that mirrored Allison. For someone who never took an interest in competitive fighting, she somehow knew the right form and stood ready for every sparking blow before Allison shouted, "Let's Go!"

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Track 13 - Take Me Home (feat. Bebe Rexha) (Caveat Remix Radio Edit) by Cash Cash

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{Meanwhile – Lydia's Party, Kitchen}

"I'm missing my date," Bennet said like it deserved severe recognition.

"At least you have a date," Stiles said over the munch of a tiny burger the size of two fingers.

"I don't have my date, that's the problem." Bennet leaned in, not to threaten but to certainly make the conversation something less comfortable. Stiles was distracted by food, until her felt genuine nerves and tugged at his collar. "Have you seen Allison?"

Stiles' brow arched in recognition, this was Allison's other date. "How do you misplace a whole person? Aren't you guys trained to find things?"

The scowled it earned him was virtually artful. "Could you just answer the question?"

"Sorry man," Stiles squirmed away, his backside inelegantly pulled up the tablecloth as he went, "I haven't seen her since the last time I saw her."

"And when was that?" the traditional crossed arms and scowl were delivered on point, with the fierceness of a Hunter's silent glare.

In reply, Stiles grabbed another slider and stuffed it in his mouth. After an awkward staring moment, he gulped and answered, "the last time I saw her... was definitely the time I saw her last." Then followed up with another slider, which he magically yanked off the table without breaking eye contact. He could keep up this game for as long as there were sliders and Lydia's caterers set him up with enough of his favorite snack to keep him there for at least an hour.

Sensing the silent dare, Bennet grunted in aggravation. "Just tell her to call me, okay? I'm worried. That's not too much to ask." He didn't wait for a reply, just spun on his heel and slipped away through the crowd.

Stiles kind of felt for the guy. He'd only known Allison for a short time and if she when she didn't reply to a text it drove him nuts. Meanwhile, that guy probably spent a lifetime having one nervous breakdown after another dealing with her. With a sigh, Stiles realized he still wouldn't consider changing his dynamic with Allison, they were in a good and tenuous place.

Off somewhere there was a dank basement door, guarded by 2 strapping young Werewolves, wherein Allison faced a volatile shapeshifter and yet that poor bastard date thought he had a chance of finding her by asking around dancefloor? Stiles felt for him but not enough to get involved. Enough to stress eat to keep his mouth shut.

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Track 14 - D.A.N.C.E. (MSTRKRFT Remix) by Justice

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Due to insufferable dry mouth, Stiles considered getting something to drink but his nose tingled at the acidic smell of spirits coming from the spiked punch, which he appreciated but stayed away from. He found Lydia poolside, dishing out punch for the natives in a shimmering blue pleated party-dress and practiced party gleaming smile. The way she moved in contrast to the music was very telling. It said that the party was hers, but she wasn't partying.

Hiding behind the pillar of tangled fairy lights and ivy, Stiles searched the area for anything he could use to change this situation. A small smile spread across his face when a dizzy Greenberg toppled by. Stiles spared the guy future embarrassment by settling him to sleep in a nearby couch and liberated him of a punch glass.

"Fill 'er up," Stiles vied at her attention, drawing her away from the entrance. Her smile shifted from party-professional to pinched-tight to something like piqued-amusement. Thankful of a metabolism that prevented intoxication, Stiles pretended to be buzzed while he drank, and was satisfied the rum filled punch wasn't as bitter as he'd expected.

"If you don't like it, you shouldn't have been drinking it like shots," she hassled him. When Lydia smirked, Stiles bobbed his head in recognition because it was one of her most genuine smiles he'd seen all night. Progress had been made!

"You've been plowing me with alcohol. Probably to take advantage of me," Stiles cooed, Lydia rolled her eyes. "Then you should finish this one for me. Are you not partaking?" he sounded almost concerned but sweet, so Lydia took the drink and sipped slowly, staying beside him instead of chasing guests.

"It's your dance party and you can dance if you want to," Stiles teased in a singsong. "I bet you haven't even danced once."

Lydia sipped again to keep from answering.

"You wanna dance with me?" Stiles asked a little louder, leaning toward her ear.

Lydia nearly gagged on her scoff as his stare turned to a glare. She finished, "You're kidding? That's a no."

As if he'd been hit in the stomach, he stepped backward, his stumbling was only half fake.

"Come on!" He followed her as she marched back to the decadent garden fountain, which was beautifully vast, and jerry rigged to spew more alcoholic punch. "Stop worrying about everyone else, your parties are always perfect. Why won't you just stop trying to control everything?"

Lydia scowled over at him, "what do you know about it? You don't know how I do things anymore. And you weren't even invited."

"Sure," Stiles bobbed his head, shoved his hands into his pockets and while studying her face, his gaze softened as he neared. "But Lydia, if you want to waste time standing around arguing about what I do and don't know about you, we'll miss out on your party. So, let me try again, come on and hang out with me."

A real smile started to spread on her lips, "I've saw you try to dance. Awkwardly."

Stiles stood back, gestured for her to lead toward the dancefloor. "Then come on and show me."

"I'm sticking with no." Lydia smirked, crossed her arms and did that thing that drove him crazy and stepped into his stare, like she could stare down the sun. "I'm hosting my party."

"I thought this isn't even your party. It's Danny's," Stiles grinned, impishly.

"Whatever," Lydia snapped and spun away, walked around the fountain. Stiles followed determinedly, she seemed more amused than annoyed that they'd fallen into playing tag. "I don't care. I'm not going to apologize for wanting things nice and perfect for everyone. Maybe you guys only want to run off to your corners to have super-secret agendas, but I'm trying to make one night where people can drink, dance and dress nice..."

"Well, I think you look beautiful," Stiles said frankly and meant it. How she made the career effort to zip upstairs and switch from hostess wear to evening wear was beyond his comprehension.

Lydia swung around and froze mid-step. "I-I don't... I didn't dress up for compliments." Her eyes were wide, and face looked flushed under his gaze.

He shrugged, "I know. But you do. Stuff with us," he gave a wide gesture to the house and their friends, "and stuff with school," he gestured around toward the air and their classmates, "and stuff with us," he pointed between them both and spoke slower, "has been tough. So, why don't you take the night off and do something normal, like dance?"

Lydia cocked head towards him, "you don't know how to dance," she argued, and stepped further away.

"If you won't come over on to me," Stiles flinched at the miswording but continued unapologetically, "then I'm going to Muhammad over at you."

Trying not to laugh, Lydia recoiled as Stiles flailed in her direction, with arms thrust in the air off beat to the music and head tossing around seizure-like. "You can't make a verb out of a parable!" she insisted, and finally grabbed hold of him by the wrist. "I am not doing this because you convinced me to, I'm doing it out of pity."

"Whoa," he barely managed to keep up with her yanking pace. "Whatever you need to tell yourself!" he whisper-shouted.

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Track 15 - Guillotine (Scuba Darkness and Light Mix) by YADi

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{Meanwhile — Lydia's Danny's Party, Basement}

Plumes of electrical clusters grew with each of Kira gestures. While Allison stepped around as steadily as an expert dancer, Kira lunged around with hungry reaching waves.

"This is crazy," Kira sounded like she wanted to stop but her body kept reaching.

True to her words, Allison never made physical contact, each measured step pivoted out of Kira's reach just so and stabbed close enough to her face her hair would be left singed. "You're doing fine. We can stop anytime you want."

Time felt trapped for them, as sweat sheened over Allison in her summer dress and Kira side-stepped an animal, in her floral combat boots, yanking violent static from the air.

"I am running out of battery power though," Allison chuckled, panting lightly and Kira slowed to a stop. "Feel like doing something about that?" she turned the weapon off but didn't close it. Stepping closer to Kira, wondered if this was one of their shared 'New Girl' moments.

"What do you mean? Are you just playing around?" A curious switch flicked inside of her. Without intention, her control of electricity learned to move through more than just her fingertips.

"This is how I'm training you," her calculating eyes passed over Kira's face. The way Kira marveled down at her hands and arms, turning them over in shock that they glowed, albeit for nearly a half hour. "You see, you don't always have to bring out your ability because you think someone is going to hurt you. Come on, did you really think I would hurt you?"

Since she'd started in at BHHS she'd been drawn to Allison. There was a genuine pull between them, easy going and magnetic, even in the vulnerable state of bombing Ms. Ramsey's Calculus class. As Allison led them to the center of the basement where there lay a rubber mat, the sort rolled out during bad weather to keep someone from slipping on front steps. At least Kira prayed they were genuine rubber. There, she'd be grounded, that meant safe, right? While there was no nervousness behind Allison's toothy grin and that reassured her, "I trust you, you can handle it."

They locked eyes, while Kira held up her right hand, palm flat and fingers splayed. She breath out slowly, as the air surrounding them began to resonate. Energy both delicate and powerful enough it caused their hair to rise and skin to buzz. The baton turned back on, its low hum was nothing compared to the sparks that burst to life when she placed it in the flat of Kira's palm.

"Ready to jump start this?" Kira asked, the eager one this time. Allison nodded, her grip tightened in Kira's other hand not that she felt it. She focused on the fireworks.

For a few moments, the baton looked like a sparkler; the center of looked like a halo of white light while the sparkles spilled like a waterfall, flooding the ground around their feet.

"Careful," Allison warned, "I just want it charged, not fried."

Kira's smile expanded with the knowledge that she found control. It wasn't like Jackson frightening her into action. Or Lydia guiding her spark. She owned this power running through her, it felt fast and far like speeding through and open field. And if she went too far too fast, she thanked god there was Allison's hand to pull her back.

"That was... that was awesome!" Kira withdrew quickly, and as she did electricity spun around her briefly before it back into atoms in the air.

The baton buzzed a second or two, then that dissipated too. But those sparks were nothing compared to the wattage of Allison's dimpled grin, "that was amazing!"

Giggling from excitement, their clasped hands swayed wildly between as they bounced excitedly in place. Until Kira froze, in shock, "you're not on the mat."

"I never was," brushing off her clothes, Allison stepped further away and let Kira notice everything. Then said smugly added, "You wanted to be cautious, so we were, but I knew you were never going to hurt me. I stepped off the moment you started to spark to prove a point." When Kira didn't move, Allison picked up her purse, and put away her weapon. "You've got more control than you give yourself credit for. Now, come on. Let's go celebrate this victory with some ice cream."

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Track 16 - The Youth (MMMatthias Remix) by MGMT

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{Meanwhile – Danny's Party, Hallway by the Basement Door}

"I'm going to casually just sit right here," Bennet took a position on a bench, and while his posture was easy, he felt ready to pounce. "And I'm going to keep a casual conversation with you, Scott. It is Scott, isn't it?"

Isaac and Scott nodded in unison, regretting not taken up the bench themselves, regretting not looking less obvious when they sat as gargoyles by the basement door.

"Cool," Bennet nodded. "I'll just sort of talk at you then. Maybe about weather, maybe about sports. Then it's going to get late, it'll get close to my date's curfew and I'm going go through you and passed that door." The gesture he used, with one eye squinted and two fingers like a gun felt aggressive even in slow motion. "And you're going to let me in, how's that sound. You wouldn't want to make some sort of scene at Lydia's house, she is your friend, right? I don't think Allison would like that. Nah, I don't think she'd like to see me mess up her friends, would you?" He smirked and finished his beer with exaggeratedly slow sips, ignoring their discomfort.

"Well," Scott inched towards Bennet, leaving Isaac to lean on the door alone. The confused look on his face bounced back and forth between the two, and he strained to grin. "We've been having a great Lacrosse season. We're on our way to the championship. Have you been- you should come see us play."

The basement door swung open unexpectedly, leaving Isaac and Scott jumping to their feet, but Bennet waited to see what came through before moving. Allison looked surprised that any of them were still around. Kira laughed a little out of embarrassment and worked her hands over her hair to keep strands from bouncing with static electricity.

"Guys, I thought the party was over there," Allison's dryness set them in motion down the narrow hall, and back to the main room. She gave each of them a catered warning look meaning 'they should know better'. But Bennet met her critical glance towards Kira then back. He had questions. Allison didn't keep his gaze after that.

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Track 17 - You & Me (feat W. Darling) by Bassnectar

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{Evening – Lydia's Party, Back Garden/Near-ish the Pool}

Aware of how super heightened senses worked, Lydia considered what the smell and sound would have on Stiles. She led them to the farthest side of the backyard away from the pool, further away from the smell of gnarly drunks and closer to ivy wrapped up trellis. Although the music could be clearly heard throughout, he wasn't as overstimulated. He could focus on her and try very hard to ignore the subtly swaying nearby.

Forgetting his daring, Stiles tensed up and was no longer certain. Everyone else nearby was acting romantically, he was clueless. The competitive kid in him shouted, "Watch This!" and he started to 'Moonwalk'. That snapped Lydia out of a daze, but rather than march off indignantly, she yanked him closer.

"No. Now, okay just- right, no. Here- that's better but just-" she interrupted herself with each harsh instruction and Stiles wondered how Prada put up with her.

In the end they faced one another, feet at a box-step, eyes locked. His hands lay light and shaking on her hips, her palms stayed flat and smooth against his collar almost hovering.

"This is not like the movies."

"You're right. This is not like the movies," Lydia reminded. "Stop looking down at your feet or you're going to headbutt me."

They were noticeably slow to quick dance music, but eventually a something struck a cord and the two swayed together even if they didn't match the beat. As he grew more comfortable, she grew bolder, and Lydia's competitiveness started showed. In the sway of her hips, tossed her hair side-to-side and the way Stiles had to wrap his hands tighter on her waist just to keep up. Stiles liked competition, he stood a little taller, arch over her with playful expression on his face.

"So, I'm just going to say something. Because I think I should say something," he started to say something but then died off. Her smile broadened genuinely amused, she lace-locked her fingers behind his neck and straightened her arms to keep him centered.

"Go on."

"Right so, Allison's has decided to help Jackson," Stiles said loud enough for Lydia to hear but no one else. She gave him a sharpish look but didn't break their synchronism. So, Stiles went further, "and I've offered to help her. You know, with all that."

Her brow arched critically, but her enjoyment wasn't washed away. "Gosh, that's real big of you."

"Well, I've had a walkabout, of sorts, and also literally, and I've come around on the idea. Also, I heard about some things that happened around here other day," he shrugged, then took the lead, turned them towards the house. "Looks like in the middle of a game he saved our friend Isaac from decapitating Danny. But it left Danny with a real bad bruise. Kinda weirdly identical to the bruise he left you the day he fished you out of the swimming pool." Lydia's eyes narrowed, and nose scrunched as if she smelled something distasteful but since she didn't run away, so Stiles pursued his theory. "I thought what kind of baddy goes preventing Isaac from being a murderer, protecting Danny's and sparing Kira… Not mentioning the other one." He gulped deeply and his grip tightened at her waist.

"But you wanted to mention not mentioning it," Lydia pursed her lips, she sounded more suspicious than confused.

"Because I just figured if you didn't mention it, there must have been a reason," he gave a strained smile and reminded, "because we can always tell each other anything. Just like, I should be honest and tell you everyone's over there using your basement to decrypt Kira."

"Right, of course," when Lydia shrugged again, her hold slackened, and her ease fell away. As the song sped up and accelerated, people nearby bumped them and pushed them apart. Instead of going with the flow, Stiles hopped forward and caught her hand, pulling her back to him. She stepped up to him and leaned into his chest, tucked her head under his chin. For a moment, Stiles forgot he didn't actually know how to dance, and he'd been depending on her to lead the way all night. But as she pressed her face against his collar, wrapped her arms around his neck as if she were holding onto him as a life raft, Stiles realized it was in his nature to keep them afloat. He wrapped his arms around her waist, swayed to music that wasn't what was playing lay his head gently alongside hers, waiting for their breaths to align.

"You okay?" he whispered near her ear.

She "m-hmm"ed. It went unheard but Stiles felt it rattle against his chest. After a beat, she insisted "what else?"

"Nothing," he put off. Forgetting her hands near the nap of his neck, she gripped a handful of hair and yanked warningly. He squawked his admission, "Fine! The guys are using some stuff I brought back from the Hales to maybe look for Cora. It's a long shot-"

"Is that the stuff about the Nemeton?" she eased up but left her hand where it was.

"Yep," Stiles rocked back in surprise, and gazed down at her, trying to read her thoughts in the middle of a field of strangers. She looked like picture perfect. Squeezing his eyes shut to focus, he felt a hand slide down his arm and grab hold tight to his hand, comforting him. When he spoke again, his words came easier, "there. That's our super-secret agenda, what's yours?"

She felt like she was treading on thin ice, over hot coals. Instead of her usual glare, she buried her head against his collar and hid her very readable expression, hoping her heartrate and chemosignals would be virtually unidentifiable in the mass.

"Come on Lydia, I want to help." He lightly butted the side of his head against hers. She nested more against his shoulder, so she could see the crowd. "It's not right. When I accidentally got strung up a tree and asked for your help was an inconvenient situation but that doesn't mean you should feel like you can't tell me you drowned."

"You needed me because you were poisoned," she gave a wry smile, still charming. "Plus, you weren't exactly listening then."

"I'm listening now," he hugged her to him gently, reminding of his there-ness, "and I'm noticing things. Like you're spending a lot of time working at the party that you're not partying at."

Lydia eyed Stiles hard, "I'm just concerned for my guests," she said, frankly.

"All of them or specifically the supernatural ones?" he eyed her back, undeterred by her steely gaze. It didn't work during their childhood 'dare wars' it wouldn't work now. "Did you find something in the bestiary?" he didn't like the idea of Hunters having a How-To book, but it helped to know that Lydia was dismantling it.

"What makes you say that?" she smirked. "I do a lot of reading."

"But was there something specifically you're looking for?" he almost didn't want to know but had got under her skin. The selfish part of him wanted to blame the studious part of Lydia and not the abandonment issues triggered by little road-trip. "Come on, if there's some sort of freaky-Friday, every one's date turns Werewolf at midnight thing and the Werewolves get the night off, you should tell me so I can invest in leashes..."

"A cure for foot in mouth disease?" Lydia rolled her eyes and craned her neck in a way that also tossed back her hair. Momentarily hushed, he huffed at the way she found smallest gestures to be the easiest way of cutting him to the quick. But their competitiveness kept them coming back.

"Shutting me up would be a prophetic injustice," Stiles smirked and stepped closer, almost enough to boop their noses. She stepped back, her haughty smile wavered replaced by startled laughter. "Part of the reason I'm asking is because I know, instead of talking to anyone you've had your nose in research for days. Now, that you've got a night off you're eyeing the crowd. Not like you're on the prowl, more like someone might rob the place."

Used to being gossiped after, Lydia considered how to reply to the accusation, "the other part of the reason?" Having people talk behind her back usually meant questioning her relationship status, but Stiles wasn't some regular kid.

"Because maybe I want a reason to help," he said in earnest, but her narrow eyes glare made him unsure if he was lying. "Maybe I can see something in the crowd you can't."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes and a gut-deep uneasiness in Stiles rolled too. "The new moon is tomorrow and maybe it won't mean anything. I read that shapeshifters are drawn together around the new moon because they can feel vulnerable."

"Like how packs are together for each other?" Stiles' uneasiness and intrigue in equal measure. This seemed less like a solution to his problems and more like a dice roll.

"I didn't say they're stronger because of the new moon," she shook her head. Her words were insistent, calculated. "No, definitely not strong. Just 'drawn together'. The full moon draws out strength, this is the opposite. I didn't know that when this party idea came up, I probably should have cancelled it," she said quietly as Stiles shoulders squared. He drifted away, his eyes dancing all over the place until Lydia's words stopped.

"But you didn't," his eyes fluttered back to hers, his brows furrowed.

Biting the corner of her mouth she said nothing to defend herself. Stiles studied her face to see an apology but sensed only the same sameness he sensed upstairs. The same carefully constructed empathetic angry-sad person trying her best to keep it together.

"So, now that everyone is under one roof, you're thinking of playing a dangerous game of whodunit or baiting the big bad IT since he's been creeping on kids from the High School. I know you're genius level smart," he said, trying and failing to let admiration into voice. "And I'm pretty sure I might be the only one who's figured you've been trying to make a mystic 'Get Out of Jail Free' card. But you're just going to get yourself really hurt. And I can't just sit back and watch."

"You've confused Monopoly with Clue," she teased, trying to ignore his accusation. She swallowed, pushing down her uneasiness at being found out and relief for having an ally. "And the big bad IT wouldn't be the only one creeping around if the Kanima is struggling to keep control. I've noticed Jackson struggling to fight back."

"So, I am right about the rest," his smile broadened, and he moved closer so that his head bowed practically leaning his forehead against hers.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're projecting," with eyes closed, she sighed deeply, Stiles' enthusiasm already exhausted her. "Maybe it's because you like to look for conspiracies in every corner."

"What do you want me to say, huh? That I'm crazy, totally paranoid?" his brows rose with mild amusement, "None of this is new information. Now you're gonna try to at least give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"And?"

"And believe I'm 100% here for you. I'm not going anywhere. That is me, settled here. I mean around town, and you know, near your general vicinity." He flashed an overly wide grin, then brought the wattage down in fluctuating increments, "75% most of the time actually, I've got to time share with my Dad and them... 60% at the very least-"

"Stiles! I've got it, I've got it." Then skeptical with narrowed eyes, she brought her hands down, and held the collar of his button up. "Alright, I've given a lot of benefit to a lot of people," she groaned and frowned deeply, fresh in mind were vague half-remembered images of collapsing bloody against the Nemeton. Followed closely were memories of being crushed between Stiles and Scott under smoky debris of the Hale House fire, or jarring juxtaposition of watching semi-dead Jackson through the hospital window, along with holding Allison crying herself to sleep or sitting beside Isaac after he came back from the dead. These felt more like nightmares than memories.

"But have you thought maybe I'm just not cut out for this," she slowed, he moved to match.

"What are you talking about?" his brows arched up in surprise. "People flock to you, you're always surrounded by friends. You're the most confident, ambitious person I've ever-"

"Lydia!"

Both tensed in that feeling of abrupt disappointment to have their 'there-ness' interrupted.

"Lydia!" Danielle called from several feet away and through the tangle of people, "we're out of beer!"

Lydia's groan sounded nearer to a growl as she turned to answer her, "so?! Handle it!"

"I need you to handle it!" she said with enough authority, it made people around them stare and step back.

"It's Danny's party! Ask him!" Lydia finally looked at her. She could make out Danielle finally, beside her clung Danielle's best-friend Heather, waiflike and strung up skillfully in a pretty corset while making eyes at the sky. "Aiden said to ask you!" How Danielle's voice carried through the crowd was remarkable, and it made Stiles wonder that anyone needed enhanced hearing at all with someone like her around.

After taking a deep breath, Lydia stood straighter and pressed fingers to her temple, "they should have bought a keg."

Wondering at it, Stiles remembered, "They did. I saw Allison's friend help Danny drag it in."

Tired of the shouting, Lydia parted the sea of people and marched toward the house. "How did they finish a keg?"

The expression on Danielle's face was less than amused, beside her Heather looked dopey with hilarity and lacking sobriety. She jabbed a thumbed toward the far side of the backyard, opposite the pool where a tennis table had been set up and cheering went on to the tune of anarchy.

"There's a girl over there blowing everyone away playing flip cup," Danielle might have been put out by the predicament but she sounded impressed none the less.

"She drinks beer like she's trying to get drunk enough to forget she's drinking beer," Heather hiccupped, then swayed against Danielle's arm.

Wiping at her face, unsure of whether she should help Danielle get Heather somewhere to wash up or resolve the beer dilemma, Lydia groaned inwardly at the inferiority of these aggravations. There were more important things to focus on and with Stiles finally at her side she finally could make headway- that was when Stiles made a pained sound which yanked at her heart, she was unsure why.

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Track 18 - You're Out (Frankmusik Remix) by Dead Disco

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{Late-Night – Danny's Party, Far side of Pool}

The girl's kohl-rimmed, light brown eyes caught their gaze through a hundred faces and over eighty feet away. The last in a line of nine cups of beer went down with a cherry red smile and followed by an uproarious table of cheers. Like a fish out of water, her liquid consumption was seemingly unending, meanwhile her charisma was supernatural to where the game of flip cup went mad with fans. She gave a wink, slipped on a little black leather jacket before making a long-legged pivot on 4" leopard print pumps and made for the garden exit. She left a wake of uncertainty that pulled a whole pack of stares along with her.

Danielle took their stillness as a cue that her friends had the situation well in hand, and so she took Heather ambling inside.

Stiles stood gap mouthed and eyes blinking rapidly, struck dumb and stared across the pool. The last time he wore that expression his fatally wounded best-friends were being pulled from fiery wreckage and he couldn't deal with it. This wasn't far off from it.

{Late-Night – Danny's Party, Near side of Poolside}

Lydia stared at him, her bright eyes darkened, her shaky hands steadied on her hips and she enunciation around the words, "What. The holy hell. Is that?"

"It's Erica," hovered beside her, Isaac's voice came in swooping like a dark cloud. The music dimmed by comparison and Lydia tried not to jump.

She twisted at the waist to see each of them, to notice the blanched desperate look on Isaac's face, wide eyes searching for confirmation he wasn't dreaming this. But while Stiles looked a little excited, Isaac looked upset.

"That's the girl who attacked me on the road," Kira said less like an accusation and more like reporting the weather. When they looked for an explanation, she stood just behind Allison who had her hand on a weapon, readied in case there might be another attack. Allison looked to her friends, her expression was inscrutable, but a stance that meant business. A few feet before her stood Scott, something drifting between Isaac and Allison, bouncing on the balls of his feet, maybe wouldn't have brought them through the pool door if it meant walking into this landmine.

"Yeah," Scott nodded, his chest collapsed in a sigh of regret, openly conflicted. The moment he stepped forward it broke the freeze spell Erica cast and sent Isaac spiraling, flight before a fight.

"Stiles?" Isaac asked. The question, was the one thing Lydia wanted to ask but also didn't, "are you going to just stay there?" Unintentionally, Isaac bumped Lydia's shoulder hard as he went by and started to shove into the crowd.

.

"Stiles," her voice cracked.

His look seemed already distant and torn, Stiles almost seemed honestly surprised Lydia stood nearby. Stuttering to speak he opted to say nothing. After Stiles didn't even give her the good graces of an argument, Lydia turned to Isaac.

"Isaac!" she called after him, but she meant to say 'you said no drama. I trusted you and you broke your promise!' With fist clenched she muttered, "and be careful!"

"I'm sorry!" Isaac meant it, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Yet he pushed forward, shoving people aside, Isaac looked back to Stiles and the tie between them yanked like a leash making it difficult to keep going without him.

.

Another apology. Once Stiles heard that rolling through the air her remember the last words between them and knew Lydia would take his leaving like a slap in the face. His mind boggled, eyes went unsteady, and the color drained from his face.

"I'll be right back, I promise," Stiles swore once more.

There was no argument, just bright eyes that stared blankly. Pleading, Stiles gripped Lydia's bare shoulders hard, his very human nails leaving impressions of desperation for understanding while Isaac's retreating calls kept distracting. "I have to see. If it's really -Wait right here, Lydia. Can you just give me five minutes? I know, I'm sorry. Just, but just stay here, continue being mad - or not - if you want, or whatever works for you, um, but I promise I will be right back, and then we can scheme - Yeah? Okay, just five minutes."

With that Stiles had gone into a crowd of limbs before disappearing behind the swing of metal garden gates, closing him off.

Scott stepped forward too late to stop him. He took up the space beside Lydia and didn't move to touch her or begin to say a thing. Together they witnessed the scene like they were watching a drama. When Lydia blinked finally and looked over at Scott, he shared a quavering smile and cocked his head, as if to ask, 'are you okay'. Robotically she nodded but after a moment dropped the pretense. A sense of loss set in, their bubble went up, their shared world of pent up 'why-me-ness' surfaced. She asked quietly of him, "what the hell is going on, Scott?"

"I don't know," he worked to fight back his feeling of slack jawed dismay. His brow furrowed, and he touched a hand tenderly where Stiles' hands clenched too hard. "I'm going to find out."

When Scott raced off, she believed he'd be right back. There was a little comfort in that, but there was more comfort in knowing she never promised to stay and wait.

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Track 19 - It's Time (Jeriqo Remix) by Imagine Dragons

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{Late-Night – Outside, Hill's Aires East}

They'd made it along the street and past all the parked cars. Stiles left a dent in the back of someone's Toyota by hitting it in frustration and Isaac was three cars further along, standing on the hood of a Mazda Scott recognized as Allison's. He prayed they recognized it, too, and didn't leave a mark. So much for keeping a low profile.

"Is it really her?" Scott asked. Like a knife, his voice cut through the tension.

Stiles finally looked back from examining the lane. His lip trembled but his voice was steady. "I've got no clue, Scott. The party was too crowded, I couldn't make it out clearly."

"She's disappeared, I can't get hear or scent anything," Isaac added, he growled involuntarily.

"What do we do?" Scott hoping his calm voice would get them to work together.

"We?" Isaac hopped down and landed close by. His eyebrows furrowed, "shouldn't you be inside and dealing with your own girl problems? Leave this to us."

"Oh," Scott stepped back, "I just figured I could help. If the three of us split up, we'd have a better chance of finding her."

"And what would you say if you found her, Scott?" Stiles asked quietly, because truthfully, he didn't want Scott to get hurt.

Scott shrugged.

"If we find something, we'll let you know right away," Stiles emphasized the word 'we' to remind Isaac that it mattered to keep their non-pack friends in the loop, "'cause if she came to us now, then I'd like to believe we're all coming together for a reason that isn't some blow out kegger."

"You think she's just trying to lure us out?" Isaac snarl rose towards Stiles, a golden color rose in his gaze.

The growl in the back of Stiles throat rumbled in the back of his throat 'are you kidding me, you goddamn moron! Of course, she's baiting us!' but words wouldn't get through, he grabbed Isaac by the sweater sleeve and yanked him toward the street again.

"I can't help you if you keep taking off," Scott interrupted his exit, Stiles froze. Isaac shifted his weight, like he wanted to give them space, but he didn't want to leave Stiles behind.

"Scott, I can't figure this out if I have to watch your back, too." Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder to gently reassure him. He didn't want to leave without him, but it kept turning out this way. Scott exhaled loudly, briefly rested a hand on top of Stiles' before watching them split up.

"Once we figure something out 'we'll let you know'," Isaac cut in a little, his apathy felt more genuine than any of Stiles' promises.

"I know you will," Scott smiled softy, it gave Isaac pause to see how much he believed in both. They nodded in return before they sped off.

When Scott returned to the party, he'd felt like he'd failed his somehow friends. They were all just under one roof safely when wolves had gotten in the door without him noticing. His friends said the party overwhelmed their senses and left them vulnerable. What if he could do something about that?

At the door of the garden, Scott waited and heaved a sigh, he refocused on what he envisioned made him strong. Not claws or fangs. Certainly not premonitions. When he dug inside and pulled at his core, picking apart threads at his center there he found his people. How had his brother's not recognized Erica in the party when he could sense through the gates the shapes of the people he cared about, in turn the people who cared about them

Brightest always was the shape of Allison in the vibrant crimson red, like the beating of a heart. Lydia was a few steps away in her own orbital flow, the blue he'd only seen in gemstones. Her shimmer was inconsistent and worrisome. Between them and hidden was the flickering Goldenrod light in the shape of Kira, still hovering behind friends as if she weren't a force of nature. Still, between them the shape of friends of friends, Bennet stood at arms to defend them all despite his duller colors. They clumped together and Scott knew he knew them. In a way It couldn't know them. So, if Scott could find them among the pulse of dancers and strangers, he could defend them. He could tap into his strength on demand, he had purpose, It didn't have a chance.

There was especially shimmering shape of a man beside the DJ booth, whispering intimately into Danny's ear. It wasn't just that the guy glowed like a Werewolf, it was because he felt familiar. Over the distance he felt not only of dying, but something like killing and woods, it reflected the trauma of Isaac's death. Snapping back to himself, Scott he had to investigate.

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Track 20 - Shady Love (Silkie Remix) by Scissor Sisters vs. Krystal Pepsy

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{Midnight – Aires East to City Central and back, Beacon Hills}

By the time they gave up and returned to Lydia's House a black Camaro skidded to a stop in front of them. The wheels left marks on the pavement and smoke kicked up. The locks popped open and the driver's side window revealed blonde wavy hair framing a dangerous look.

"Get in, losers," she grinned like she had her fangs out when she didn't.

"Wai-wha? How can you afford a car like this?" Stiles balked, hesitating before he thought clearer. "Right. You stole it."

Rolling his eyes, Isaac yanked the back seat door open and gestured aggressively for Stiles to get in.

"The hell are you thinking!?" Stiles riled, "you're stealing cars now! And wait a second! -" in an attempted to climb out of the car over Isaac's lap he didn't compute the car was already in motion. "There is no way I'm going to stay in a car Erica is driving!"

"Come on, it's not that bad Stiles," she laughed through the rearview mirror. "I've gotten much better." She swerved speedily and skillfully around a corner to prove a point. The guys slid uncomfortably around in the back seat before remembering to strap into their seatbelts. "Anyway, think about it this way; if we crash, it's not even our car."

Isaac groaned the loudest, Stiles simply buried his head in his hands.

"Erica, we aren't here for a joyride-"

"Oh?"

"I thought you were dead." Isaac didn't say we. He barely acknowledged Stiles beside him. "I've felt awful about-about how everything..."

"Where the hell have you been, Erica?!" Stiles didn't consider him at all, just argued his own point.

"Oh, the two of you," she cooed. "You've got to admit, you don't exactly look like you feel guilty. You look pretty okay to me."

"If you've been okay this whole time, why haven't you-?"

She 'wooo-ed' as they sail over a speed bump. On purpose or not, it sent the back seat into a silent spell. "Never said I was okay," she clarified and continued carefully "And Isaac, you shouldn't feel guilty. You two had a lot going on. It wasn't like this was easy for any of us, I'm just happy to see you guys. Surprised, but happy."

"You're surprised?" Stiles snarked, she made it suspiciously evident she knew more about them than the reverse.

"I didn't come to the party tonight to meet up with you two," she licked her lips and searched the road with a little more concentration. Her speed slowed while her thoughts sped up. "I came to check out your friend."

"What have you got against Kira?" Isaac snapped in response. He wasn't going to fight Erica on Kira's behalf, he wasn't sure he could, but he definitely wanted to know why she would put him in that place.

"That firework?!" Erica barked with laughter, and she struck the wheel with the heel of her palm. "Oh, that's funny. Real funny." The more she said things were funny, the less convinced she sounded.

Insistently Stiles leaned forward, through the seat, pressing Isaac back in his chair to grip Erica's shoulder, "you're watching Scott?"

Startled by his touch, Erica jumped away, the car swerved but Stiles didn't let go.

"Yeah, of course Scott!" she shrugged, her growling tone and foot on the brake sent him flying back. She had made so many swerving turns it was disorienting and they weren't sure how, but she'd brought them to the end of work road from the construction by the highway. No one was nearby to hear if they crashed out, or to report it. From Erica's haughty expression, it seemed she banked on that.

Speeding up once more she started into a spin, applied enough centrifugal force to keep them seated.

"I was just fascinated!" she said casually, while at a screaming volume. "What is up with this guy? I mean he's hot alright, for a... what is he? Not an Omega, or a Beta. What's so great about him that Isaac abandons his search to join a school team? And Stiles, he not only heads back to the Homestead but comes all the way back here just to be best-buds with him? I've seen that lightning bug and Hunter stuck to him like fly paper, and I don't get it!"

When she hit the brake again, she yelped and had to hold onto the roof to keep herself from feeling off-kilter. After a moment of dizziness, she refocused and twisted a little to eye them both directly. "What is it? What's so different about him?" a little drained, Erica was hoarse.

They looked to each other and then to her, feeling cheated that those were the first words she'd shared with them after coming back from the dead.

"I'm not going-" Isaac started, surprising them with his defensiveness. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

After staring stared at Isaac intently, Erica sighed and asked knowingly, "because he saved your life in the woods?"

Isaac felt exposed that she knew all that but never ask about the incident or his well-being afterward, "no. Because he would do the same for me."

"Stiles?" Erica quickly glanced away from Isaac to conceal any flicker humility. "You got anything?"

"Erica, you know what you're doing is messed up," Stiles set his jaw and glaring hard he studied her face, refusing to look anywhere else in case he might find a chink in her bad-girl façade.

"I figured you'd say something like that." After a long moment of glaring between the two, she flashed a grin, shrugged lightly, and faced forward to put the car into motion. After smooth drive from the nowhere land into Lydia's neighborhood, she finally broke the silence, "You know, it's war out there, we do whatever we've got to do to survive. Someone's expecting me, so I'll drop you back off-"

"If you figured we would say that, why didn't you just ask us this at the party?" Stiles insisted, gripping the passenger seat to stay forward.

She drove faster but with more caution, and laughed back towards them, "I didn't expect the party to be at her house."

"Stay away from Lydia!" Stiles snarled. He fell into the backseat after his claws went through the leather seat like butter and didn't support his weight, "if you harm one perfect strawberry blonde hair on her head-"

"Okay, this isn't going to end well," Isaac sighed, placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and another on the driver's seat, bracing the distance. She brought the car to a screeching halt once more and when she did, Isaac turned to her and nailed her with a yellow-eyed glare. "But he's right. Lydia is off limits."

That smile, the wicked one pulled at the edge of her lips again and broadened until she broke into a cackle. Shaking her head, Erica put a hand over Isaac's and smiled toward Stiles. "Lydia? Like your Lydia? Like you used to 'horde all the best swag for her Christmas presents' Lydia?"

Isaac looked between them confused but saw from the flush in Stiles' cheeks there was a sibling's understanding there that zipped over his head.

For about a full second.

"Oh, your best-friends turned out to be a Werewolf and a Banshee. They're going to love this!" a hand went to cover gob-smacked mouth, like it could restrain her amazement. Like a snap, Stiles sat up in panic.

"Erica? Come on Erica, what's going on here, you can't tell anyone," Stiles pleaded and lowered her gaze at him like he just challenged her to a dare.

Before she could answer, the passenger side door swung open, and someone jumped in. Someone dark-haired scruffy, and familiar with Erica. Someone else who happened to be a Werewolf.

"Reíka, hit the gas! The Twins have blown up the party and the cops are coming!" At that he swung around, growling. His eyes went blue and twitchingly he gripped the dashboard. "What have you been up to? Deucalion is going to be pissed about this."

"Deucalion's not here," Erica snapped at him, jabbed a warning finger harshly into man's shoulder, then impatience slide of her heel against the pedal threatened to rev them forward. "Hey bros, unless you're coming back to meet my pack- you should go."

"Pack? What pack?" Isaac's said close beside her, she had to turn to meet his face. She gulped instead of answering. "Is that why you aren't mad I didn't look for you?"

"It's more complicated than that," she answered quietly.

"You realize, if you joined one of them, you joined someone who tortured Derek?" Isaac wasn't used to being ahead of the game and he drew that conclusion quickly. It hurt and surprised him to realize it.

"Reíka, we don't have time-"

"Meyers," she hissed, at her pack member, "give me a second!" then swung back.

"Erica," Isaac tried to plead but wasn't sure what he was asking. It left him drowning in defeat, "why are you doing this?"

"I am loyalist," pretense and arrogance were gone, she seemed overwhelmed. She gently touched the back of his hand, and she finally felt real. Realer than all those nightmares. And he imagined her words to mean whatever he wanted them to mean, for now.

"Wait! What do you mean, 'blown up'?" Stiles hopped forward, ignoring the other Werewolf's agitated state until he growled again. "You talking literally? Figuratively? What Twins? Did Twins blow up?"

"Stiles?!" Isaac insisted sharply, already out of the car, "let's go!" He reached in and dragged Stiles out by the collar, and they ran stumbling across a yard.

Even though Erica drove off the road at a breakneck speed, she waited a couple of streets away from Lydia's, overseeing what happened next. She wanted to make certain her foster-brothers would be okay, that would take a few more minutes than she considered but not exactly unexpected from those guys. Afterwards, they drove into a construction area, dumped the car and ran the rest of the way to The Hills. Whenever Meyers threatened to open his mouth about her checking in with her old-pack she reminded him the reason he didn't notice to begin with was because he was talking up under-age girls.

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Track 21 - Heartbeat (Michael Brun Remix) by Childish Gambino

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{Midnight – Danny's Party, Poolside}

If Danny cancelled 'his' party it would have robbed their friends of this unique opportunity, Lydia reminded herself. Maybe it didn't lure out a Monster or provide any clues to who the Kanima's master might be. After all, Jackson hadn't even turned up. But a negative result is still a result.

This party was certainly feeling like a negative result to Lydia. To calm her thoughts, she tried reciting mathematical equations in her head, and when that didn't work, she whispered them to keep from screaming.

"You look like you could use a breather," Aiden said, sidling up beside her. It wasn't the best line, but at least he wasn't trying to get her drunk. She swung around to face him, chin high and eyes hard ready confrontation, when he countered with, "I have my bike outside..."

"You want me to leave my own party?" She arched a brow. Aiden was exactly as handsome as Danny advertised, if advocating your boyfriend and then supplying a copy was an advertisement. He reeked of charm and his body tight T-shirt left little to the imagination. Which was good because Lydia's mind felt exhausted.

"Isn't it Danny's party?" He smirked, with brown eyes that shone and fascinated her with how they looked at her. With pinpointed remoteness, with openness not entitlement, or childhood, popular and Banshee-Lydia just the Lydia one with or without a party option. Aiden wasn't very bad for a blind date. And he was her type; available.

She glanced around for her friends. Allison seemed caught up with her Hunter friend Bennet over whatever mysteriousness occurred in the basement with Kira. Danny, indeed, manned things at the DJ booth with his boyfriend Ethan. Danielle hovered back in the kitchen, shoving off buzzed busybodies trying to raid the cabinets. That left Lydia with little do, other than Hostess smiles and return to serving drinks.

"Alright," Lydia stood and led the way effortlessly through a sea of people. At the front closet, she shoved aside a couple making out to get her jacket and when she grabbed her house keys, she dangled them in her hands like a cowboy spun their pistol.

"Can I drive," she said in false sweetness that said, 'you'd better let me.' Aiden laughed and the lightness of it, the lack of drama and open-airiness made her smile. Beside a black motorbike, he handed her a helmet and promised the open road. Lydia knew where to head and looking back at the house she didn't feel any pangs to stay at Danny's party all.

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Track 22 - PUMPED UP KICKS (DUBSTEP) by Foster The People

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{Midnight – a few minutes earlier, while at THE Party, Kitchen}

"They were right when they said Lydia Martin throws the best parties," Bennet cleared his throat. He bobbed his head along, pretending to ignore knowing Scott's Werewolf status. He had to take the small amusement where he could get it.

Allison frowned and delivered such a glare, "the battery on my baton is dead."

"The least you can do is admit this is a blow out," he was bothered, even if he tried to sound unbothered.

Allison rummaged through her purse and glanced back at Scott. "Are you sure that's the Alpha who attacked Isaac?" When Scott shrugged, Allison reviewed all the reports she'd heard throughout the night, from Stiles, Scott, and Kira especially. "What about you?"

Kira's head snapped up. "Why? I didn't see anything?"

"You might have sensed something, too. When he attacked Isaac, you also end up out there," Allison offered, her mind worked at an increasing speed. "You might not even know what you could have detected if you don't try. Just try, focus on him. Does he seem familiar?"

Together they looked through the kitchen window over toward Danny's makeshift DJ table, set up in the narrow slab strip along the opposite side of the pool. There Danny and Ethan took and ignored music requests from partygoers, but mostly they danced and stuck to themselves.

It was only a little calmer in the kitchen, it gave them a bird's eye view into the pool area, where they could keep Ethan in sight and keep them apart from dancers. Who knows what he would have overheard already throughout the night?

"Yeah, he looks familiar," Kira admitted, quick to undercut her comment, "but he's also been around the lacrosse field."

"Are you sure?" Scott pleaded this time.

"I think he was there that day, but it's just a weak feeling." Kira searched once more, but instead of searching her mind she tried to remember the rushing feeling of wind and ground felt around her. When those senses felt triggered, then so did the memory.

"Well, whatever you want to do about it, figure it out quickly because he's spotted us. And his eyes have gone red," Bennet warned. Brass knuckles appeared on his hands, and he moved through the glass doors to the pool without hesitation.

"Red eyes?" Kira asked but Allison shook her head, to imply now wasn't the time to explain, but yeah that was a bad, BAD sign.

"Wait," Scott insisted, speedily went after him, and put his hand on Bennet's arm. "We can't just do whatever we want, if we're not sure, and he hasn't even done anything."

"But he might do something-" Allison suggested, striding up behind him. Scott looked between the two. A kitchen knife appeared in her hands when she couldn't find a useful weapon in her bag. Her agenda seemed clear in mind.

"Yeah, but he might not." Scott shook his head, "Erica showed up and didn't do anything. Maybe they're just trying to give us a message."

"Guys, why don't we ask Lydia? Didn't she sense when Isaac died, maybe she might recognize something?" Kira asked, her gentle voice interjecting concluded their hypothesizing.

They turned to each other, staring in a panicked realization for their missing friend. Allison broke the stillness quickly and eyes the crowd. "She's not here."

Scott sensed through the home, "she's not even in the house."

"Who? Lydia?" Danny answered, half-shouting, having neared them to get a drink and entered within a range of hearing. Topless and covered in a layer of sweat from dancing, he looked at them, grinning and pleased with himself and his party. "Ethan, have you seen Lydia?"

"Who's that again?" Ethan feigned ignorance in obnoxious playfulness, Danny laughed but he was the only one.

In a switch of traits, Scott growled, his teeth bared and tension in him uncoiled. He prepared to tackle, but Allison pushed past him, not because she was fast but because Allison knew when she moved Scott would hesitate. And her skills were honed. She could subdue where he would maim.

With her left arm, Allison flew forward pushing Ethan to fall stumbling backward into the DJ equipment, with her forearm against his throat, to the crowded pool on the left, the kitchen knife lowered to his abdomen went unnoticed. To Danny and anyone nearby it looked like Allison maybe drank a little too much and couldn't take a joke, her jacket covered the angle of the upward tilting blade pressed into the center of his breastplate. If he didn't answer, at best he'd be exposed. Kira picked up the baton that rolled out of Allison's purse and flicked it to full length, preparing to at least try to make use of her newfound focus. Danny was too startled to react, and Bennet worked to calmly block him while still ready at arms. Belatedly, Scott woke from his fury and tried to think of a way out of this conflict.

"What the hell did you do to my friend?" she hissed and asked quickly.

"No clue, Hunter." Ethan chuckled, his eyes glinting, "but you might want to think, if your friend didn't sense her here, she probably took off." He placed a hand on Allison's arms, steading her grip with his rough fingers. His mouth turned into a long mean line just like his tone. "Probably because this place is a goddamn mess, just like everything you guys touch."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Allison scoffed, taken aback.

"The packs wouldn't even be at each other's throats if it weren't for you Hunters butchering us," Ethan leaned against the wobbling table, backing away as the knife broke the skin and left a line of red that blended along with the sweat and glitter. It made a smearing line of pink along his naval.

"Did you hurt my friend?" when Allison breathed out through her nose, her eyes followed the trail. She eased up the choke hold but stepped further forward, twisting the knife rather than pulling it back because she wanted Ethan to fall on it if he thought of moving. The Werewolves war barely stayed on her radar these days, she'd been focused on keeping her friends safe and alive. Of course, there would be spillage and she worried if this was qualified.

"Typical." He scoffed back, his youthful face undercut his spite. "Your friend hurt us and you're justifying it with more paranoia. Go ahead, hurt me. It's not going to bring Lydia back. She took off, I didn't take her."

"Allison, he's been with me all night," Danny broke in, looking angry and pained. A quick warning glance between Allison and Scott over the distance, silently communicated that although while Danny's heartbeat fast it didn't beat false. In a very human, very boyfriend way, he'd stepped in for a rescue. They held back with a veritable skid as Danny continued, "he's been helping me setup and hasn't left my side. Maybe you're confusing him for Aiden?"

Their irrational behavior Danny could only own up to too much punch, and he convinced himself Allison must be a violent drunk if everyone seemed so worried about her stumbling around. Maybe it was only Lydia could talk her down? Because Scott's meaningful glances weren't helping. They were getting answers, anyway, why make things worse.

"Guys- the table!" Kira shouted out a moment too late before the DJ equipment teetered over and fell into the swimming pool, setting off at first a splashing thud, then a delaying spark and titanic burst that brought down most of the fairy lights nearby in a sparkling whip of flames.

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Track 23 - Milk (Rabbit in the Moon Remix) by Garbage

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{Midnight – at THE Party, Poolside}

On a slab platform away from attendees, they'd placed the DJ booth to keep it from getting jostled by dancers. When it finally got knocked over the DJ got thrown backward and flew into bushes, nowhere near the outfall. As it collapsed, Ethan shoved Allison to the ground, jumped throw himself over Danny, rolling them away from any stray wires that flung around.

Allison rolled out of the way, scurried to reach Scott and they took sanctuary behind a pillar. A temporary sanctuary, as the cords above them started to spark alive and fall. Unfortunately, Bennet fell to the pavement, hit by a stray cord, already showing superficial burns, and remained unconscious. After a few groaning failed attempts, Allison and Scott crouched to stay out of range of the live and whipping wires overhanging the pool.

Startled, Kira let out a long breath and then another, and despite her earlier exhaustion, jumped onto the exposed piece of table left floating above water level. It wasn't the deepest pool, but the table seesawed. Kira reached back and in one fell swoop thrust the baton into the heart of the sparks, widespread cords came to coil around it like the folding petals of a lotus blossom.

To anyone able to look unblinkingly into a firework, they might have been able to see the expression of wonder on her face right up until things went dark and she'd pumped all that power back into the baton's dead battery. Maybe a little more than strictly necessary to charge the baton. But the houselights had been flickering on and off like a strobe light, no one that could even look in their direction would guess it as anything more than a party stunt.

Knowing the Martin's layout, Scott ran to the power supply where they kept garden hose, yanked the little door open and pulled down every lever inside. In the darkness, party-goers' outcries turned to hoots of laughter. Sighing in temporary relief Allison ran to Bennet's side to assess the damage but he was already waking up, disgruntled that his suit was ruined.

"Ask about 'the Aiden'," he reminded, ignoring the disarray of kids milling around.

"What about him?" Ethan came over, feeling a little pity for Bennet's pains while he rubbed at the mark on his chest as it healed unseen from his boyfriend.

Allison parroted, "Who's Aiden?"

"Ethan's twin," Danny said and Ethan smirked, wiping blood and sweat from his lower lip.

Unable to stand yet, Bennet leaned against Allison, pushed back her hair that was falling out tie to whispered into her ear, "their faint sense? What if it's because they weren't sensing one of him." Allison showed no overt signed of acknowledgement but clutched his hand hard, as if for balance.

They both turned to look up at Ethan, just as Scott and Kira rejoined. Scott was stunned, "there's two of you?" Hating that he understood more and more answers often made matters worse.

"No, there's one of me." Ethan corrected, proudly. "And then there's my brother, even if we're practically inseparable-"

"Maybe Aiden will be help straighten out everything later," Danny re-interrupted, pointing out the destruction in the area. They weren't going to get any answer badgering the Twin left behind to take the blame to organize a party, and to delicately reassure his boyfriend everything would be fine...

Scott winced, apologized, and stayed back. "There are way too many Werewolves here together."

"Tell me about it," groaned Bennet, while he stood and rubbed his neck. He still wore his brass knuckles. When Kira helped Allison up, she handed back the baton, but Allison told her to keep it with pride in her voice and a gleam in her eyes.

It wasn't only the stress of identifying the "who's who" in this lycanthropic entourage. It was the collateral damage, but he'd seen enough teenage movies to know how to clear out a party, fast.

"Hello, I live in Aires East and I'm a tax-paying citizen! I'd like to make a complaint," Bennet pitched up his voice while on the call to the cops. "My neighbors are throwing a party. A really loud party. I'm pretty sure there might be under-age drinking, too."

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Track 24 - When You're Around by FrankMusik

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{Midnight – Martins' House, Garage, Hallway}

"I can't be caught like this," Kira's voiced in a trembling panic. Around them the party was the human embodiment of an ant farm falling over and it wasn't Allison's nature to abandon her ground. She could tell the desperation in the girl's voice didn't mean she couldn't get caught at the party or hanging out after hours behavior. Just by the authorities.

"Come on," she wrapped her fingers around Kira's wrist, her voice was firm and commanding. Ignoring the thundering nonsense above and around, Allison led her through one door down a hall and then another. Until they were locked off in a private space that led between the main house and the garage exit. Allison assured her that no one knew this place, no one except Lydia. And maybe Scott. Probably Stiles. "Just stay here. Wait until the police car circles around to the back of the house. Listen carefully, when they've put some distance, go through there, the side door and cut through the neighbors' yards. Go down through at least a few houses before making a real run for it."

Kira nodded along, but her grip on Allison's arm felt uncertain and letting go was a chore. But Allison's smile, bright even in the dark felt reassuring. Despite the noise upstairs, the panicky smells and childish yelling, despite the receded sound of sirens she kept in mind Allison's impish smile and remembered to safeguard herself in the narrow dark and wait until it felt 'safe.'

After a deep breath, as if she were a deep sea diver, Kira gingerly pushed open the small door and crouched out. Glancing around, she wondered what they discovered in the garden but decided against getting any further involved. She knew little about all of Beacon Hills neighborhoods, absolutely nothing about Lydia's posh one and she really hoped she would manage to get far enough away unseen, without getting so lost she couldn't find her way back into the City Central - or even how to get all the way to The Hills.

Finally, far enough away she could no longer make out police lights flickering, Kira stumbled out onto the road, in the wrong direction, until she caught sight of Jackson. She would never mistake the shape of his silhouette firmly burnt into her mind, even in the lowest of lights. He was blocks away from the party, he seemed to radiate green around him, like he belonged to the dark woods. Except the eyes, they always seemed a little too bright. Through the lens of her phone, the colors didn't show, and she questioned if she saw it at all. Her breath slowed, not with ease but disappointment, she hoped that it would reveal something like her photo had to Scott. Again, whether he meant to or not, shut her out. When she neared, her vision settled, and he seemed earthly and normal again.

Except, his actions seemed unusual. He seemed to be playing with a dog. The closer she got the more she realized she often read the situation too late to absorb anything. It wasn't a dog, it was a very big Coyote, bigger than she'd ever seen even though she'd only seen them on the nature channel. Also, Jackson wasn't tossing stones towards it playfully, he was chucking stones at it warning it off. But his tone didn't sound threatening, it sounded fond. Any other time, she'd have assumed he'd run the animal over with his car rather than waste his time.

"Get out!" he warned it off as though it were a difficult child, "You don't belong here!" He aimed the stones precisely at the Coyotes feet, careful not to make contact. The animal danced through them, unafraid of actions, snapping back playfully with each warning. That was until Kira skidded at a halt around the bend. Everything turned severe.

The Coyote froze, back curved high in defense blocking the center of the road, it' eyes changed to an electric shade of blue and it growled in her direction. Jackson's aim became precise and painful, he moved to stand in the animal's line of sight and tossed a stone with enough force to knock into its shoulder loudly.

"I said get the hell out of here!" he yelled hoarsely. It gave a sound, something like a growl and something like whimper but at a pitch that made Kira shudder. Then the Coyote ran off through gardens instead of towards the Preserve.

"You don't belong here either," Jackson moved around her and climbing into the driver's seat of the red Hybrid. But he didn't tell her to go either, and she didn't questions what he was up to because she didn't know where to begin. Barely sparring her a glance, he could tell from the leafy greens in her hair and the way she clutched her bag to her chest, she was out of her depth once again.

Wide eyed, she wondered how to plead the case, 'the cops are two minutes one way, and my parents are ten minutes out, so could you just-'

"Just get in," oh never mind, Jackson didn't need to hear it. He smirked, as Kira raced around to the passenger side.

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Track 25 - Young Blood (Renholder Remix) by Naked and Famous

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{Meanwhile – Martin's House, Lawn}

Towards the garden, skirting across the lawn, Stiles caught sight of the flashing of police lights. Not only was there a noise complaint but an animal complaint a few blocks over, which made the neighborhood treacherous to cross. At the Martin location, caught in Parrish's crosshairs, he noticed the two teens hoping out of a 'friends' car, meanwhile Stiles' Dad investigated the Coyote sighting a few blocks away.

Already, the collaboration with Rumy reaped benefits. He was chuffed to admit he had a young Intel Officer put a spy bot in the system to catch 911 complaints rerouted to animal services. Search words like 'Large,' 'Coyote' pinged high up on that list. It put the Sheriff in the right place at the right time when calls about the party came in.

Anxious and disturbed, Stiles felt the impulse he'd had a million times before but never followed through. He called his Dad. The Sheriff turned up seconds later to keep them from being listed along with any of the partygoers/escapees. Thankfully, Deputy (good ol' pal Jordan, road trip buddy extraordinaire) handed them over to his Dad straight away and pretended he'd never even spotted them at all.

All things working in Stiles' favor, he felt there was wiggle room to argue.

"I feel like it doesn't really count as being involved with the police if I called you," his face contorted into a pressurized squint.

It was the best tactic Stiles could produce when he rejoined as panicked people continued to trickle out of the Martin's house.

"And technically," Isaac pointed out despite not having been asked for his opinion, "we weren't even at the party when all of this went down."

"Uh-huh," Sheriff Stilinski said with disdainful disbelief in his voice. "Where were you two exactly?"

In simultaneity they answered, "Mexican take out," Isaac answered. "Chinese food," Stiles answered. They looked to each other in frustration. When they looked back to the Sheriff, they reversed their answers, in unison.

"Which is it?" he crossed his arms and leaned back against the Cruiser to give a more rigid stare.

"Both." They replied.

"And where's the food?" he asked, rubbing at his chin in scrutiny.

They glanced at each other, then quickly replied, "we ate it."

"Guys, fine. At least you weren't in the house," okay never mind, he groaned. "I don't think I can deal with anymore embarrassment at having the Sherriff's son arrested at the scene of an incident." He immediately regretted it, seeing Stiles' visible cringe. Lately there'd been very public negative attention he'd brought to his Dad's reputation, but they just never spoke on it. "That's not what I meant."

"Nah, no. You're right," Stiles responded, his tight smile easing slowly. "I guess in the future I better get better at not getting caught. Kidding. Kidding." His false cheer made Isaac uncomfortable, and he leaned away to ease away from their awkward father-son bonding-ish-ness.

"Kid, I just mean, Goddamnit it-" he squeezed Stiles' shoulder, and in a more telling gesture reached for Isaac's. "Are you two, okay? You two safe?"

"Yeah Dad," Stiles answered, taken aback by the shift. "Of course."

Isaac nodded, and paused uncomfortably before answering, "If something were wrong, I'd force him to call."

He smiled at that, unsure if he believed them but grateful anyway. "Do you have any idea what happened here?"

They shook their heads. Stiles glanced anxiously toward the house. "Can we go in with you? I promised to check in on Lydia."

"Absolutely not," his Dad squeezed their shoulders a harder. "No one is allowed in while we're clearing guests out. That is, the front and back door are closed off to guests, people who aren't welcomed by the owner... can't go through the main entrances."

"Oh," Stiles popped up onto his feet, his eyes bright and an animated expression dancing across his face, "awesome. I mean, thanks." He started away, then doubled-back and threw his arms around his Dad's neck.

Sighing, Isaac watched Stiles head toward the garage side-entrance and waved over his shoulder at both of them as he headed away.

"You're not going with him?"

He paused and shook his head, looking to the floor before answering. "I think I've got to call it quits on tonight." There was a lot to process, not to mention consider what to relay to Scott without feeling exposed.

"I can arrange you a car back-"

"I've got a way. Sheriff?" Isaac's hands clasped together, he imagined if he stopped imagining touching Erica's shoulder, he would forget what it was like to hold onto someone both here and gone. "Why is family so difficult to figure out? I know we're not supposed to take them for granted but - shouldn't they be reliable, too?"

"Listen son," he cleared his throat before answering. With everything in the Stilinski household, maybe he was the best person to ask, at least they had abandonment issues in common. "I'm an only kid. And I got one kid. As luck would have it, Scott came along, then Lydia, and now you. I seem to keep collecting more and that's great. And I watch out for this city because I want to feel like I'm a part of something bigger. What I've learned about family, is all you've got is what you've put into it." When the Sheriff looked at him, there was a warmth and connection that made Isaac feel like he could be injured for sharing that much affection.

"Yeah, thanks for the insight." Isaac's brow furrowed, as his hands flexed in unease.

The Sheriff regretted not escorting him home, it felt like those few short minutes cost him more in the end. And it really ate at him. It was clear if Stiles wasn't trying to slip from custody, he could see to Isaac? In his gut a feeling started to haunt him, like another kid had disappeared and it scared him.

---

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