"I want to start by saying I didn't do anything wrong."

"What? Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Mom, I just…I got another detention."

I hadn't expected an easy response, or any reassurance that things would be okay. I thought maybe there'd be some yelling…but there was nothing. There was dead silence on the other end of the line, and that was probably worse than anything my mother could have said to me.

"Mom…?"

There was a sigh, and a shuffling on her end. I could picture her taking her reading glasses off, rubbing her brow as I captured her full attention from work. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! Honestly, Mom, I didn't—"

"Sadie, they didn't give you detention for nothing. I heard you say that you didn't do anything wrong. Now tell me what happened."

The words were sharp, and I winced.

"I was…Scott and Jackson got into a fight. I think it was about Allison or something, but…Stiles and I were walking by and we had to help pull them apart before they killed each other. Then Mr. Harris ran down and gave detention to anyone even standing in the hallway."

Normally, there might have been a quippy agreement that it was a stupid reason. Some biting comment about how Mr. Harris was developing a habit of dealing detentions. She wouldn't tell me that it was okay I had detention, but she'd ask if the boys were alright, then gripe about my teacher. All I'd been doing was protecting my friends, after all.

Today, that wasn't what I got. Today, I got more silence and half of a sigh.

"Mom, I know that you're mad, but—"

"I'm not mad, Sadie!"

It wasn't as reassuring as she'd intended it to me. It was like a slap, something that made me step back even though I wasn't in the room with her. She realized what she'd done right away, and grudgingly amended her tone.

"I'm not mad. I'm worried. I mean, the detentions, the—the crime scenes, the talks with the sheriff. Some of that is to be expected. You're a teenager, I get it, but all of this at once?"

"Mom, I'm gonna be late."

"They're your friends, and I know that you love them—I love them too—but if they keep pulling you into all these dangerous situations—"

"Scott didn't do anything wrong!"

"Sadie, you just said that he and Jackson were nearly fighting to the death over a girl. That's—"

"I guarantee you that Scott didn't start anything. If someone was causing problems, it was Jackson. Scott was defending himself."

"I know, Sadie, but…I hate to sound like a broken record, but it doesn't matter who started it. The fact is that they're pulling you into—"

"I have to go, Mom," I sighed, cutting her off.

"I just want to make sure that you stay safe and—"

"Mom!"

"Fine," she said bitterly. "Alright, fine. Go to detention. We'll talk about this later. But we do have to talk about it. I love you."

"Love you too. And if…if you see Lydia, can you tell her I'm sorry?"

"For what?"

"For…bailing on our plans. Well—no, tell her I didn't bail, I just got detention, and our plans are still on just for…for later…"

There was a suspicious beat, but Mom obviously decided it was better not to ask at that point.

"Okay. Go on. You're going to be late, aren't you?"

I tried to reply, but she'd already ended the call. I threw the phone back into my purse with a groan, and let my head rest against the cool metal of my locker. So much for that going well.

My stomach was already pulling into knots. I knew I couldn't tell her the truth, but I could only imagine what my actions looked like from the outside. My slow decent into delinquency would make any parent worried, supernatural motives or not.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I squealed in surprise, whirling around to find myself face to chest with an increasingly familiar leather jacket. I raised my gaze to the dirty blond curls and blue eyes. I frowned when I saw Isaac's smirk.

"No," I said reproachfully. "It was my mom."

"Oh, I know." He tugged on his ear to indicate his super hearing, "but, you know, you guys have a pretty good relationship. Plus, she's alive, so. You can imagine how I'd consider that paradise."

"Isaac, I'm—"

"So," he continued, brushing off the subject. He leaned on the wall next to me, and it took all my willpower not to step away. I wasn't going to let him intimidate me out of my own space. "You got detention. Again. You're turning into quite the little delinquent, Bennet."

"I'm the delinquent? Isaac, you got bit by a werewolf, got arrested for your father's murder, then went dark side and tried to kill a teenage girl. I really don't think you should be talking about delinquency."

"Okay, can you drop the Lydia thing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." This time I did take a step back, so I could get I better look at his face while I glare. "Do you not like talking about the fact that you tried to kill my best friend? My completely innocent best friend? Does that make you uncomfortable? Then maybe you shouldn't have done it, Isaac!"

"We needed to do something," he hissed, looking quickly around the hall. "I know you're a fan of the innocent-until-proven-guilty, everyone-deserves-to-be-saved thing, but it's not saving a lot of lives."

"It saved hers."

"And what about the couple in the woods last night? One guy slaughtered in his trailer at the preserve, his pregnant wife in the hospital? Didn't save them, did it?"

I looked up at him with apprehension. I hadn't heard anything about two more murders. I wondered if the others knew; had Stiles been hiding this all morning so I wouldn't feel guilty? I'd taken one night off with Lydia, and the worst had happened. As per usual.

I must've done a very bad job of hiding my shame, because Isaac pursed his lips and rolled back his statement.

"It's not your fault, Sadie. It's the kanima's. And as much as I'd love to forget about it and learn some cool new tricks for my claws, the kanima's got to come first."

"I'm working on it," I said resolutely. "And seriously? Cool new tricks?"

"Well, they've gotta be good for something, right? I don't know, like…carpentry?"

I stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. I knew it was absurd, that there was too much going on to find something so stupid so funny, but that was exactly why I laughed. I fell back against the lockers next to him, and he grinned down at me.

"What? You don't think I'd make a good whittler?"

"No!" I giggled, shaking my head and grinning in spite of myself. "No, I don't think you'd make a good whittler, Isaac."

"Well, not everyone can be a breathtakingly good artist."

I forced myself to stop laughing. I gave Isaac a pointed look as I pushed myself off the wall. I turned to head to the library, but before I could make it more than a few steps, Isaac grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to face him.

"Seriously, Sadie. You're not stupid, and I know that you want to save people. Maybe the best way to do that is for us to work together."

"Maybe." I stepped forward, narrowing my eyes at him. "And maybe if you're trying to save lives, you should stop being so eager to kill every potential suspect."

Isaac stood his ground when I stepped up to him, but he flinched at my words. I shook his hand off my wrist and he let his arm fall to his side, leaning back against the locker with a small nod. "Fine. Touché."

"Hey."

Isaac and I both looked up as Stiles walked down the hallway. His expression was calm, but I could see how rigid his face was, his jaw set to the point of clicking. Something in the way he was holding himself as he walked made it obvious that he hadn't missed the exchange. He walked right up to my side and slipped his hand into mine, his glare still set on Isaac.

"There a problem?"

"No, no, of course not," Isaac said, rolling his eyes. "We were talking, Stilinski. After all, someone's gotta be up for saving the world when you losers are in detention. Sadie and I were just agreeing—"

"To disagree," I finished. Isaac frowned at me, but I took a step back, tugging Stiles toward the end of the hallway. "Come on, loser. Can't be late for detention."

It actually took a little effort to pull him away. He was planted to the spot, locked in a staring contest with Isaac. Stiles's face was blank, Isaac's almost amused. After a few seconds, I was able to pull Stiles away, and we disappeared down the next hall on our way to the library.

"Thanks," I said quietly, holding his hand with both of mine.

"Are you okay? He didn't—"

"No, no. I'm fine."

"Good. Yeah, good…"

Stiles bobbed his head and his eyes sunk down to the floor. I watched him for a few seconds, but his face remained blank. The silence was unnerving, and I found myself biting my lip. Guilt for something I hadn't even done was gnawing at my stomach. I pulled his hand a little closer.

"Hey, I…I don't know what Isaac was saying to you the other day, but I wasn't doing—"

"No, I know," he assured me, shaking his head. "I saw you push him off. It's not that."

"So it's…?"

He groaned, glancing behind him and pouting. "I was just waiting for him to step to me, ya know?"

"…Step to you?"

"Yeah! Like, I was waiting for him to try and start a problem, to get in my head. You and Erica fighting before, that was just—God! You were awesome! With the comics and the comebacks and I was so ready to just—wham! To just smack him down, you know? I spent all afternoon thinking of this X-Men analogy, because no matter how powerful Jean Gray got, she stuck with Cyclops instead of going off with Wolverine just because of his stupid claws and his stupid leather jacket and his stupid—ah!"

I tackled Stiles in a hug, turning his sentence into a squawk of surprise as he fought to hold me up. I buried my grin in his neck and picked my feet up off the ground. That forced another strangled noise out of him, and he swung me around clumsily until I put my feet down again.

"Geez, what—what was that about?"

I pulled back, leaving my arms around his neck. "What? Jean Gray can't hug Scott Summers to show her appreciation for his loyalty and adorableness?"

"Well, I mean, she could. He'd also take a kiss, but…"

I rolled my eyes, kissing the tip of his nose and sliding my hands down into his. I walked backward, towing him down the hall and laughing at his disappointed pout. "Come on, Cyclops. Laser eyes or not, you've still got detention."

"That's optic force blast to you, missy."

We finally made it to the library along with everyone else, happy enough to forget about the reason we were there. Of course, Mr. Harris's one superpower was essentially zapping the happiness out of a room. He was waiting for us inside and gestured for everyone to take a seat at the various tables. Stiles and I plopped down at a table with Scott, and I stopped just short of growling when Erica perched next to him. I must've tightened my grip on Stiles's hand, because his thumb was suddenly rubbing circles over my skin. He was obviously pretty pleased by my possessiveness, judging by the way he was smirking. I glared at him, but ultimately kept quiet. It didn't matter so long as we were holding hands, right?

"Oh, uh—we can't be in detention together," Jackson's brain-cell-murdering voice announced. "I have a restraining order against these tools."

"All these tools?" Harris asked disinterested.

"Nah, just us tools," Stiles replied, gesturing between Scott and himself.

Harris smiled dryly, not looking nearly as surprised as he might have as he jerked his thumb toward a different table. "Fine. You two, over there."

I didn't even have time to enjoy Jackson's affronted expression before Stiles's hand slipped from mine. He and Scott picked up their bags, and it wasn't until they were standing that I realized what the result of the situation was going to be: me sitting alone with Erica.

"Play nice," Stiles whispered, rubbing my shoulder and giving Erica a pointed look before he walked away.

Erica smirked, and I met her eyes for just a moment. Right. Fat chance. The only way I was going to be able to get through detention alone with Erica would be to not play at all. I pulled out my homework and glared daggers into my books as I tried to be just a little bit productive.

Unfortunately, it was hard to concentrate with all the nothing Erica was doing across the table. She was just sitting there, picking at her nails, twirling her curls, occasionally adjusting her boobs in her corset. Sometimes she watched Scott and Stiles, assumedly listening in on their conversation. Most of the time, she watched me, just staring and smirking as she watched me squirm. Just her presence was enough to grate at my patience. Worse, it was grating on my conscience. How was I supposed to learn about England's royal line of succession in the sixteenth century when all I could hear in my head was Erica's speech from outside the locker room? It just kept playing on repeat in my head, until finally—

Erica slammed her hand down on the table, leaning forward with a glare. "Stop it. With. The pen."

I glanced down at my hand, where I was tapping my pen repeatedly against the spiral of my notebook. I pursed my lips and gently set the pen down on the table, clasping my hands in front of me for good measure.

"Right. Super-hearing problem."

"Not really. That's a normal, you're-being-annoying problem."

"Sorry…"

She rolled her eyes and returned to staring down at the table. I'm not quite sure what it was. Maybe the flippant look she gave me, maybe the way the word rolled off my tongue. Whatever it was, it made me clear my throat.

"I mean it. I'm sorry. About…about everything."

Erica paused in her idleness, looking up at me with cautious eyes. I caught the surprise for half a second before the werewolf wall of fury was back up. Her lip was quivering, ready to curl back into a snarl, but falling just short. "I don't need your fucking pity."

"It's not pity—"

"Then take your apology and shove it."

"It's not an apology either," I said tersely. "I'm not apologizing for anything I did because I haven't done anything wrong. Just because we have a few classes together doesn't mean I have to discuss my love life with you before making any choices. It's Stiles's decision who he wants, and so long as that's me, that's all that matters. It's not my fault."

Erica actually recoiled a bit. I winced at how harsh the words sounded, but I wasn't going to take them back. This was turning out to be a lot more troublesome than I'd expected.

"But," I continued gingerly, "that doesn't mean I don't care that you're hurt."

"Oh please," she scoffed, sliding down in her seat.

"I'm serious and you know it. I know what it's like to watch the guy you like when he likes someone else."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to watch them dating, did you?"

She snapped her mouth closed, and I could see the regret in her eyes. She hadn't been planning on opening up like that again. I didn't want to push my luck, but so long as she was unsure of herself, I was going to say what I had to say.

"No, you're right. But that day in Bio? I knew you liked Stiles, and Lydia knew I did. That whole—clusterfuck was because she was dangling him in front of me to make a point. And when Jackson broke up with her, Stiles was…God, he was elated. He barely talked about anything else for weeks. Being around him then…it was excruciating. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone, so…that's why I'm sorry."

"Awesome. Are we done with the sap fest?"

I dropped my eyes to my textbook and nodded curtly. "Yeah, we're done. Thanks."

Confessional time hadn't done much to clear the air between us, though I hadn't really expected it would. It did make it easier to work. I actually got through half the chapter before I was distracted again.

Jackson let out a hiss of pain, and everyone stopped to stare as he staggered to his feet. He was holding onto his head as he swayed on the spot. Matt tried to ask if he was okay, but it was like Jackson hadn't even heard him.

"I—I need to go to the bathroom."

"Are you alright?" Mr. Harris asked. "Hey, you don't look so good."

And he was right: Jackson looked awful. Even from where I was sitting I could see his skin getting clammy. He rubbed fiercely at his temples and grit his teeth, his eyes screwed up in pain. They were symptoms I'd become all too familiar with since coming to Beacon Hills, the same ones Scott always had when he was struggling to control his shift.

"I just need some water," Jackson winced.

Without another word, Jackson made a break for the door. Harris got up from his seat at the help desk and gave us all a stern look. "No one leaves their seats."

Of course, the moment he followed Jackson, I was out of my seat. I was ready to charge right after them, but a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back into my seat.

"There's nothing you can do," Scott whispered. "I was fighting him earlier. There's no way to stop him."

"So we're just gonna let him Hulk-out in the bathroom?" I hissed incredulously. "Scott!"

"Hey, maybe he'll kill Harris," Stiles suggested, returning to his original seat at my side. "That'd do us all a favor."

Scott gave him an unamused look as he resumed his seat next to Erica. "We stop him by looking for a way to stop the kanima."

He turned to look expectantly at Erica, who only smirked.

"Oh, don't worry about little old me. I didn't hear a word of that."

Scott's frown deepened. "Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died."

"Maybe."

"Talk."

Erica considered Scott over the top of her notebook. Then, as if she'd been waiting the entire detention for her cue, she sharply shut the book and placed her pen on top of it.

"It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator, and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's eighteen."

"So not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?" Stiles demanded.

"Yep."

"…There's something so deeply wrong with that."

"Tell me about it," I huffed. "I don't even have a car."

"Me too," Scott sighed.

"You know what?" Erica pulled her laptop toward her. "I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox. He keeps everything."

"Sixteen years worth of everything?" I asked skeptically. "Were they even digitizing reports in the nineties?"

Erica glowered at me. "He'll have it. Outside of work, my dad doesn't care about shit."

She turned back to her laptop and began typing with more face than was necessary. Before we had time to unpack all that statement said about her childhood trauma, the loudspeaker overhead crackled to life.

"Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office."

All four of us froze. At the other table, so did Allison and Matt. It hadn't even occurred to us that there would be any consequences beyond our detention, but now that there was so much surveillance, Gerard had to know about the fight in the bathroom. Insane as it sounded, we had to hope he thought Scott caused all the damage. We had too much on our plate to start worrying about the Argents suspecting Jackson.

Scott slowly got to his feet and tried to give us a reassuring nod. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just keep working on it. I'll be right back."

"Scott—"

He gave Stiles a forced smile and, rubbing his hands together in preparation, headed out into the hallway. I shared a worried look with Allison at the other table before turning back to Stiles.

"They don't have security cameras in the locker rooms, right?"

Erica scrunched up her nose. "They can't. That's like…illegal, right?"

"Yeah, well Gerard doesn't exactly strike me as the most law-abiding citizen, what with the swords and murder and all," Stiles sighed. "I really hope there aren't cameras in there. I have done some things I am really not proud of, and I don't want to think about the principal getting to see all my business without getting me dinner first."

"Is your mind always in the gutter?" I asked, making him grin.

"Eh, only about half of the time."

"Liar. Sixty-five percent, at the very least."

"Deal. On a…you know, tangentially related note, picking up on our earlier conversation about studying, when do you—"

"Not now, Stiles."

"Well, obviously not now but—"

"Stiles. Not. Now."

I gave him a pointed look, tilting my head ever so slightly in Erica's direction. Sure, I didn't like her, but I wasn't about to start scheduling dates right in front of her. Nevertheless, Erica was looking between us with pursed lips.

"Oh no, don't stop on my account. I'll worry about the demon-lizard murdering civilians. You two continue flirting, by all means."

"Right," Stiles grimaced. "I'll—I'm just gonna…go get my…notebook…"

He slipped out of his chair and retreated to the other table, making both me and Erica shake our heads.

"Idiot," I sighed, just as Erica grumbled, "Asshole."

We glanced at each other, and quickly looked away.

The three of us worked in silence, Erica tapping away on her laptop while Stiles and I tried in vain to get some homework done. Stiles was mostly drumming his pen on the table, staring at Erica's laptop as if he'd be able to read the screen through the back if he tried hard enough. Eventually, I confiscated his pen and banished him to the other side of the table so he could read over Erica's shoulder.

"Bingo," Erica said a few minutes later.

"Ugh, finally," Stiles groaned. "What does it say?"

"It's all pretty standard. Caucasian male and female, mid-thirties. A totaled black convertible, knocked completely out of the intersection from force of impact—"

She paused as the library door swung open again, Jackson and Mr. Harris striding back into the room. Jackson looked a little les pale now, but his skin was drenched in sweat. I didn't really care to admit how much easier it was to breathe with him in the room. At least then we didn't have to worry about whether or not he was busy killing someone. I watched him carefully as he walked past, but he diligently refused to meet my eye.

"Whoa, look at the dates," Stiles said, still staring at the laptop.

"Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA," Erica read aloud, glancing over at the back of Jackson's head. "The estimated time of death—9:26 PM, June 14, 1995."

"Wait, when?" I asked sharply.

"June fourteenth. Why? Is that important?"

"But that—that doesn't make any sense. That can't be right, because Jackson—"

"Jackson's birthday is the fifteenth," Stiles finished, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Which means that he was an orphan before he was born. Doctors must have surgically removed him from her body."

"Well that's…morbid…" said Erica. It was meant to be a snarky jab, but it was clear that she was shaken.

I nodded, glancing over at Jackson. "I don't even know if he knows…"

"Well, he's got to, right?" Stiles asked. "I mean, isn't that why the shift's manifesting as a kanima? That kinda knowledge would definitely fuck you up."

I pursed my lips, still watching the back of Jackson's head. I really, really hoped he didn't know. I had my problems with him, but hearing news like that about your own family, your own parents…it was a wonder he wasn't worse.

Everyone looked up as Mr. Harris zipped his bag closed. The rest of us began packing up too, only for the bastard to chuckle.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. Uh—yes, I'm leaving, but none of you are. You may go when you're done with the reshelving."

He patted one of the trolleys with a smile…one of the three trolleys overflowing with books. There must've been over two hundred crammed onto the shelves. Harris must've fed off the little pieces of our souls that died, because his smile only stretched wider.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening!"

Stiles watched him flounce out the door with a low growl. "I hate that guy so much…"

"I know," I commiserated, patting him on the shoulder, "but this shouldn't take that long. I could probably do like…a third of this."

"You're joking," Erica snorted.

"Nope." I picked up one of the books at random, checking the label on the spine. "Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. 153.7. Anything that starts with a one-five is psychology, which should put it…over…there."

I pointed to the far corner of the library, earning awed and annoyed looks from Stiles and Erica in turn. I grinned, scooped up a couple more, and set to work. And Mrs. Sasso had said memorizing the Dewey Decimal System was a waste of my time.

For the most part, people left me to the work. As an actual library employee, I was our best shot at getting out quickly. Jackson was shelving with Matt, and Stiles had pulled Allison into a corner to explain what we'd found. Scott joined them when he returned from the principal's office, looking gaunt but still in one piece. I was in the middle of reshelving some history books when someone cleared their throat behind me.

"How long have you known?"

Erica was looking determinedly at the shelf as she slid books back at random, but unless she was having a cross-room conversation with Scott, she was definitely talking to me.

"About what?" I asked.

"The whole…secret identity of the lizard king…"

I snorted at her attempt at being inconspicuous and turned back to the shelf. "Since you and the dream team tried to attack Lydia—who is innocent, just like I said, in case you were wondering."

"Ha. Maybe supernaturally, but she's still a bitch."

"Look who's talking. You're half canine."

I heard her small growl and grinned, but she quickly checked herself. "So you knew it was him and you're still trying to protect him?"

"Yup."

"So your stupid, non-violence code stretches to mindless, homicidal shifters?"

"He's still a person. You get that, right?" I snapped, stopping to glare at her again. "He's out of control and he needs to be stopped, but he's still got parents and friends who are gonna miss him if he shows up dead. I don't want anyone's death on my conscious, however justified. Obviously that's not something you have an issue with."

"Every minute we don't do something, he kills more people. You don't want to kill him, fine, but how do you not feel responsible for that?"

I swallowed deeply, trying to expel the knot in my stomach that told me she was right.

"Because I'm not responsible for Jackson," I said in a practiced voice. "I'm not the idiot that bit him, I'm not the reason he turned into a kanima instead of a wolf, and I'm not the person controlling him."

"Wait, what?"

I turned around, leaning my back on the shelf. Erica had given up on the books and was staring at me in shock. I hesitated for a moment, but she already knew Jackson was the kanima. There was no reason she shouldn't have the rest of it too.

"He's being used. The kanima…it's a weapon of vengeance. Which means he's not choosing to kill these people. Somebody else is."

"So there's—there's two murderers?"

"Yeah. Kill one, you lose the link to the other. Killing Jackson gets rid of the kanima, but there's a good chance it's not going to stop anyone from dying. Whoever it is will keep going. They've already gotten this far."

I couldn't tell if she looked more outraged or afraid. Clearly, being a werewolf hadn't turned out to be the life she'd expected. Instead of getting all the attention and the superpowers and winning the boy and making friends, she'd only managed to land herself in the middle of a murder spree. She'd given herself the responsibility to stop it and didn't have time to enjoy the perks. It looked like she was starting to realize the reality of the mess she'd gotten herself into.

"Erica, I know that—"

CRASH!

I screamed in surprise and dove to the other side of the aisle as the shelf behind me rocked dangerously, threatening to tip right over. Debris was falling from the ceiling, books flying from their shelves, a lightbulb exploding on the ceiling in a shower of sparks. Everything flickered in and out of focus, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the lights or my mind's struggle to catch up with reality. Something was wrong, and it didn't occur to me what it was until I heard a hiss over my head: Jackson.

I dropped to the floor, but he wasn't making a dive to attack anyone. The kanima sprung over the top of the aisle, jumping from shelf to shelf and making them shake violently. Bits of tile fell from where he crashed into the ceiling and shards of plastic and glass littered the ground from the lights. I could hear Allison screaming a few rows away, a yell that sounded like Scott. There was a roar, and then Erica collapsed on the floor in front of me.

I had to do a double take. Her book was twitching, her whole body convulsing. It wasn't a normal reaction to the venom. It shouldn't be happening at all, but as the light's flashed again, I came to the only conclusion: the bite hadn't cured Erica's epilepsy. If anything, she seemed even more susceptible now because of her heightened senses.

I crawled over to her as fast as I could, pushing books and ripped pages out of my way until I reached the end of the row.

"Erica! Erica, it's okay! Just breathe!"

There was another crash and I yelped, trying to focus on the girl in front of me. My hands shook as I reached out and tried to roll her onto her side. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to roll her over. Her convulsions were even more unpredictable than the last time I'd seen her seize, the paralytic venom fighting against her muscle spasms. One of her hands grabbed mine, squeezing so hard I thought my fingers might break with her strength, but I didn't pull away.

"Erica, can you hear me? Erica?!"

"Woah! H-hey!"

I didn't even realize the crashes had stopped until Stiles appeared at my side. He made a grab for Erica and then pulled back, shoving the books on the ground aside with a clearer head than I head.

"S-she's having a seizure," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't—she's not supposed to—how—"

"Hey, it's okay." Scott knelt on my other side, looking anything but okay as he stared down at her in concern. "She's—it's gonna be okay."

Allison ran down a different aisle and I caught glimpses of her pink shirt through the books as she dropped to the floor. "I-it's Matt! He's—"

"Yeah, Jackson got to him too," Scott called.

"He's alive!"

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital," Stiles said, his hands hovering around Erica's feet as he tried to stop her from kicking anything that could hurt her.

Her hand tightened on mine, and I wasn't able to suppress the small squeal of pain.

"D-Derek," she choked out. "Only to Derek."

Scott nodded slightly, turning to look at Allison through the books. "Uh, when we get her to the hospital—"

"To Derek," Erica mumbled again. "To Derek."

"Go," Allison said firmly.

Scott shook his head a bit and ran into the next aisle, ignoring Stiles's call after him. Erica's convulsions had lessened but she was still shaking badly. I couldn't tell if she was recovering or if the toxin was taking over. She mumbled Derek's name under her breath and Stiles shook his head.

"Look, I—I know he's your Alpha, but the guy's not a doctor! Are you sure about this?"

"D-Derek."

"Maybe she's right," I said. "I mean, she got attacked by Jackson. Even when the seizure stops, she could be paralyzed, and if she loses control and breaks her claws or fangs out, we're gonna have a lot of explaining to do."

"Fine. Fine, just—call him and tell him we're coming."

I nodded, carefully prying my hand out of Erica's and letting Stiles take my place. I fumbled with my phone and started to pace as I dialed Derek's number. I looked around the library while it rang, taking in the few carts that were still standing, the books strewn across the floor. One of the lights in the ceiling was still sparking, some of the covers hanging by their hinges, swinging in the breeze from the broken window. And on the chalkboard in the middle of the room, a chilling messaged had been scrawled in shaky letters.

STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU

"Sadie? Hello?"

"What?" I jumped at the sound of Derek's voice and turned my back on the board. "D-Derek, hi, I—"

"What's wrong?"

"It's, um—everything? I don't know. We were all in detention and the kanima attacked and Erica's having a seizure even though she shouldn't be having one and there's this kid named Matt who's knocked out and probably paralyzed and—and Erica might be—"

"Sadie! Sadie, stop. It's okay. Just get Erica and get out of there. Meet me at the railcar."

"Yeah. Y-yeah, okay."

"Sadie," he said, in a voice far too calm to be allowed. "Just breathe. I'll be there soon."

"Okay," I said with a shaky breath. "Thanks, Derek."

He hung up without saying goodbye, but the reassurance was enough for me. I turned around to find that Stiles had already gathered Erica up in his arms and was heading for the door, Scott hot on his heels. I paused to dash over to Allison, but she held up a hand before I could get to her.

"Go."

"Ally, are you sure? I mean—"

"No, go. Take them to Derek. I don't want you here when Gerard shows up."

It was hard to argue with that logic. I repressed the urge to glance at the security camera at my back, fixing Allison with a pleading look.

"Call me if you need anything. And please, please be careful."

She nodded and waved me toward the door. I grabbed my things, as well as Scott's, Stiles's, and Erica's, then hurried out into the hall. I had to run to catch up with the boys, where were speeding to the Jeep as fast as they could to avoid attention. Stiles passed Erica off to Scott to get her in the backseat. Stiles and I jumped in front and, a few seconds later, we were peeling out of the parking lot.

"Okay, so we're going to Derek, right?" Stiles asked, still skeptical.

"Yeah," I agreed, glancing at Erica in the back.

"Alright, one Hale house coming up."

"Wait, no!"

"What? 'Wait no' what?"

I bit my lip, waving down the road. "Make—make a left and then the second right. Like you're going past Video2C."

"Uh, o-okay…?" He threw me a puzzled look, but followed the directions, pulling out onto road and driving the opposite direction of the old Hale house.

"Sadie, where are we going?" Scott asked.

I ran a hand through my hair, hesitating for just another moment. But it wasn't like we could get anywhere without it.

"Derek hasn't been living in his house for months. He's staying in an abandoned railcar at the edge of town."

"What?" Stiles did a double take, squinting and almost glaring at this information that he hadn't known. "And he…he just told you that, right? Sadie?"

"No," I admitted. "I…I found it for him."

I didn't get a response. I hadn't been silly enough to expect one. Just like the conversation I'd had with my mom, no one was going to tell me that it was okay, that I had my reasons, that they understood. I'd been prepared for yelling, shouted questions like 'Why would you do that?" and 'Why didn't you tell us?' But apparently, the go-to response of the day was unsettling silence. The only sound in the car was Erica writhing in the backseat, and the Jeep's engine revving as Stiles coaxed the car to go a little faster. I sighed, leaning my head against the window. It looked like everyone was mad at me today. I was going a pretty good job of levelling my life.

Derek was waiting for us in the parking lot. He nearly pulled the door off in his haste, and took Erica's shaking body out of Scott's arms. He didn't bother waiting for us. He sped into the abandoned space, leaving the rest of us to scramble behind him.

I went down first, flying down the stairs with practiced ease. Scott and Stiles took a little longer, hesitant at the sight of the rusty old staircase. Isaac and Boyd were nowhere in sight, but there was no time to ask where they were. The four of us piled into the railcar, crowding around Erica's body.

Her shakes had subsided, but she was still hyperventilating like crazy. I wasn't sure if she was panicking or if her body was still having some kind of seizure. My brain flooded with possibilities, all the terribly things that could happen to her muscles if brain kept telling them to move when the toxin stopped her. Would she have permanent damage? Would she be able to heal from it? Was she even conscious?

Derek stared down at her in confusion and his trademark guilt. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him so candidly worried.

"Hold her up!" he demanded.

Stiles scurried forward to help support her weight. "Is she dying?"

"She might, I—" Derek winced, as if the suggestion had come like a blow to his stomach. "…which is why this is gonna hurt."

I just managed to get out the word "what" before Derek leaned forward. Without the slightest hesitation, he grabbed ahold of Erica's wrist and twisted it until the sickening crunch of bone tore through the air. Erica and I both screamed, my hands flying up over my mouth as she thrashed in Stiles's arms.

"You broke her arm?!" he yelled.

"It'll trigger the healing process!" Derek panted as he stared down at his beta, barely maintaining his composure. "I still gotta get the venom out. This is where it's really going to hurt."

I didn't have the courage to watch this time. All I saw was Derek's hands tightening on Erica's arm before I spun around, my hands clamped over my ears as she screamed with renewed vigor. I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that the colors on the insides of my eyelids flickered rapidly, a kaleidoscope of panic.

"Stop! Please! Someone help her! Somebody do something!"

There was a pause and a scuffle as Scott pushed himself out of his seat, kneeling down next to Erica and grabbing her free hand. Her screams turned to groans, then whimpering and gasping as he siphoned off the pain. I pulled my hands away from my head, watching Erica as she panted in Scott's arms.

"Stiles," she mumbled, attempting to grab his shirt with the hand that was locked with Scott's. "Y-you…make a good Batman."

Her eyes fluttered shut, but she was clearly still breathing. Still alive.

"Oh God," Stiles breathed. "Oh God, that's—that's a lot of blood."

"Stiles, just breathe," Scott instructed, but Stiles shook his head.

"Oh shit. That's…so much blood…"

"Sadie, get him out of here," Derek ordered.

"What?" I squeaked. "No! I'm not leaving her until—"

"Sadie, it's okay," said Scott. "I'll stay and ease her pain. Just get Stiles out of here before he faints or something."

"Please," Derek growled, narrowing his eyes.

I sighed, but grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt and hoisted him to his feet. Scott slipped seamlessly into his place as we headed for the exit. I tried not to think about the big step I had to take to clear the pool of Erica's blood.

"Hey, just take a few deep breaths," I said softly, once we'd reached the parking lot.

"I'm fine." Stiles shook my hand off his shoulder and ran his hands down his face. "It's okay, I'm—I'm good."

I took a step back, letting him pace in a circle for a minute as he shook himself off. He heaved a heavy sigh, and eventually the color started to return to his cheek. When he was finally feeling steady again, he leaned back against the hood of the Jeep. I tentatively took the spot next to him, letting my elbow brush his.

"You…you think she'll be okay?" he asked.

"I think so. Derek's shaken up, but I think we got her here in time."

"Yeah." Stiles shot me a dry smile. "Pretty nice 'here' for a homeless guy playing dad to three homicidal teenagers."

"Stiles—"

"You didn't think that was something worth telling any of us? I mean, how long have they been living here?"

"Since…since just after Isaac broke out of the station…"

"After…? Geez! And—and you didn't think to mention that?!"

"You really think that's the most important thing that's happened the last few weeks?" I snapped. "We're dealing with a serial killer, a mutated lizard, a family of professional killers, and whatever the hell is going on with Lydia. Sorry I didn't invite you to Derek's housewarming party."

Stiles pursed his lips and kicked at a bit of gravel on the ground. He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to meet my eye. I sighed again.

"Stiles, it was before he tried to hurt Lydia. The Argents know where his house is. He couldn't keep the pack there. I don't know where he was when he was on his own, but then he bit Isaac and…I just wanted to make sure they were safe. I promise I was going to tell you as—"

"As soon as it came up. Which is now." I gave him a smile instead of answering, and he shook his head at me. "He doesn't deserve you watching his back. You know that, right?"

"I'm not sure about that. But I understand where you're coming from."

"Just—could you try to tell us a little sooner next time? If we're unlucky enough that there is a next time you have to go apartment hunting for a murderous werewolf twice your age?"

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. "Yes, I promise to tell you sooner."

"Good. Come on."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tried to tug me toward the passenger side of the Jeep, but I help my ground.

"No. Stiles, I'm not leaving until Erica wakes up."

"Huh. You know, you sound awfully concerned considering the threats you two were throwing at each other earlier." I narrowed my eyes at him, and he quickly put his hands up. "Shutting up. We're not going anywhere, promise. But since it's freezing, do you think we could sit in the Jeep?"

He popped the passenger door open and grinned until I'd been infected with it too. I smiled and climbed into the car, shoving his shoulder a little before I shut the door.

Stiles and I stayed in the Jeep for another twenty minutes or so, just listening to music and talking. Eventually, Scott returned to the surface, assuring us that Erica was going to be okay. There was a lot of blood—Derek wasn't sure how serious the kanima attack had been and wanted to make sure he got all the venom out—but Erica's healing had finally kicked in. Her wrist was whole and unblemished once more, and she was awake, if a little groggy.

Scott also relayed that, for the moment, he'd agreed to be a part of Derek's pack. Stiles nearly had a heart attack, and Scott had to remind him that it was only temporary. Derek had known all along that Jackson was the kanima, but still had no way to bring him down. In return for our help, the Alpha would refrain from killing Jackson if at all possible. If any of us wanted to stop Jackson, we had to stop fighting each other. For the time being, we'd have to pretend we were one, big, happy family.

I jumped out of the Jeep to let Scott crawl in the back, but paused when my feet hit the pavement.

"Actually, just uh…gimme a minute, okay?"

I ignored the curious looks I got from the boys and dashed back inside. Derek didn't seem surprised to see me. He just waved a hand toward the train car, where Erica was just visible sitting in one of the chairs. Her head was in her hands, probably suffering from the world's worst migraine, but at least she was conscious.

"How are you feeling?"

She looked up in surprise, too absorbed in her thoughts and pain to have heard me enter. She quickly composed herself and gave me a weak smirk.

"Cute. Like you care."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Do us both a favor and run off with Superwolf and the Boy Wonder, okay? I'm in enough pain without your voice grating against my skull."

She stood from her seat and made to storm past me, but I stepped into her way. She easily could have thrown me out of the way, but for one reason or another, she didn't. She just pressed her lips together and glowered at me expectantly.

"Look," I sighed. "I don't know if you got the memo, but we're all supposed to work together now."

"Yeah, Scott's a part of the pack. Go tell it on the mountain, joy to the world, what's your point?"

"My point is that we have to work together if we want to stop this thing. We need to stop fighting each other about methods, about Jackson, about everything. So if you're still upset about Stiles, I get it. If you want to go on hating my guts and trying to take him from me when this is all over, fine. But we wait until we stop the kanima."

Erica and I stared at each other for a few seconds. I watched her jaw clench, her fingers drum against her thigh. I was afraid she was about to break out the claws until she folded her arms over her chest.

"So what, you're picking up the whole 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing?"

"If that's what you want to call it, sure. I don't expect us to be friends, but…we should at least call a war-time truce."

There was another beat of silence before she rolled her eyes. "Fine. Truce. Whatever."

"Truce." I held out my hand, and only had to wait a moment before Erica accepted it and subtly tried to break my fingers off. She grinned when I winced, and I quickly snatched my hand back. "Great. Bye."

I was halfway to the stairs before she called me back.

"Sadie, wait."

She was standing in the door the railcar, her hands clasped in front of her. If I didn't know any better, I would have said she looked apologetic. For a moment, I could see the resemblance between her and the Erica that had sat on the bleachers at winter formal, face caked with make up while she picked at her intricate braid. Her dress had even been the same beautiful blue as the corset she was wearing now.

"You can keep Stiles," she said with a would-be-causal shrug. "I'm too hot for him now anyway."

I pouted in thought for a moment, then cocked my head to the said. "Yeah, you kind of are."

Erica almost laughed, but she had enough strength to restrain herself. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, the mask of confidence back in place.

"So, while I appreciate your smothering and unnecessary surveillance to make sure I'm alright, you can leave now. I have to get all this blood off my jacket."

"Sure. Good luck with that. I'll see you around."

"Yeah…tomorrow."

I waved at Derek as I hopped up the stairs to the parking lot, feeling significantly lighter than I had on the way down. It wasn't a perfect fix, and I wasn't sure that Erica and I would ever actually be friends, but a truce was something. It was a start.

A/N: Several months later, but here nonetheless! I know "I started a new job" might feel like my version of "my dog ate my homework," but I promise it's true. That and depression. Anyway! Here are the usual apologies, the usual thank yous, and the usual love for all of you.