Time was passing in a blur again. Lydia's father was yelling about hospital security. Mrs. McCall had instructed Stiles to take me out of the bathroom and away from the scene. Mom and Natalie had arrived not long after that. Mom had hugged me, but when Natalie burst into tears, it had taken my mom's full attention to get her under control. I sat quietly on my chair, shivering in my soaked sweater, crying more tears and wiping them away with sleeves that were already saturated with water.

Stiles hadn't left my side. The only time he'd moved more than a few feet away was to make two phone calls—one to his father, and one to Scott. Then he'd planted himself in the seat next to me. He didn't bother trying to console me with weak platitudes. He just held my hand and promised me that help was on the way. That, at least, I could hope for.

It wasn't long before the police showed up. They were buzzing in and out of Lydia's room, canvasing the bathroom for clues, scanning the hallways for any sign of her. They had to interrogate all of us too. I recited the same answers over and over again. Lydia had woken up earlier that day. The doctors said she was fine. She'd refused my help in the shower. She'd screamed. She was gone. The only time I said anything else was when I spoke to Sheriff Stilinski.

"She…she sounded so scared," I whispered, digging my nails into my forearms.

The sheriff had rubbed my arm in a failed attempt to comfort me. He pulled a reluctant Stiles a few yards away, dragging him into a conversation with my mother. The three of them conversed in hushed voices while I stared blankly at the flecked tile floor. I started when my mom rested a hand on my shoulder, Stiles hovering awkwardly behind her.

"Sweetheart, Stiles is gonna drive you home." She wiped a thumb across my cheek, presumably wiping away more of my tears. "I know you're worried about Lydia, but you've been here for way too long. I promise Nat and I will call you as soon as we hear anything, okay?"

I just nodded, too tired to reply or protest. Mom sighed, pulling me into a tight hug and brushing my hair gently. I heard her whisper her gratitude to Stiles, who quietly replied that it wasn't any trouble. Then he grabbed my hand and coaxed me out of the building.

The night was freezing cold. I shivered, then instantly felt guilty. Lydia was running around in the woods, scared out of her mind by God knows what, and she didn't even have any clothes. Who was I to feel cold when my best friend was lost, wandering outside in the dead of winter?

Stiles pulled me over to the Jeep, tapping his hand madly against his legs. He opened the door for me and guided me into the backseat. He even rummaged in his bag and pulled out a sweatshirt for me, mumbling about my wet sweater. I accepted it with a meek nod, and continued to stare at his T-shirt as he lingered in front of me.

"Are…are we going home?"

My voice sounded broken and weak, like I was some four-year-old who'd scraped her knee at the park. It was pathetic.

"No," Stiles answered, fiddling with his car keys. "I called Scott, and he's gonna be here any minute. I have to go back inside, try and steal the hospital gown Lydia was wearing. Scott's gonna track her by scent. I just…just stay in the car, okay? Put on the sweatshirt, lock the doors, hide in the back, and…I'll be right back. Promise."

I nodded, barely moving my head.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Another nod.

There were a few seconds during which neither of us moved. I knew Stiles was watching me, but I couldn't bring myself to reciprocate. I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything.

"Hey…" He reached forward, pulling one of my hands from my lap and forcing me to meet his gaze. I looked up at him from under my lashes and he pursed his lips, trying to look confident. "We're gonna find her. Okay?"

I swallowed thickly. It was the first time he'd said it, and I had to hope it was true. I had to stay present. I couldn't zone out. Scott, Stiles, and I had the best chance of finding her, were some of the few people who knew what was really going on. I had to snap out of it. I had to find Lydia.

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "I know."

"Okay." Stiles's lips stretched into an expression that looked vaguely like a supportive smile. "Okay. I'll be right back. Lock the doors behind me."

I nodded again and pushed myself up on my knees so I could lean forward and lock the passenger door behind him, but even then, Stiles didn't leave. He stood outside the Jeep, anxiously peering through the window as if he expected me to begin hyperventilating. It was probably a valid concern, but I rolled my eyes and waved him away until he finally scurried back into the hospital.

After he'd gone, I was left with the heavy, unsettling silence. I pulled his sweatshirt on over my sweater and sat for a few minutes, just trying to empty my mind. When that didn't work, I pulled out my phone and opened a new message to Derek.

"Lydia's gone. Escaped from the hospital. We don't know where she went."

I bit my lip as I sent the message, then lapsed back into idle silence. I flipped the phone over and over in my hands until it buzzed unexpectedly. I jumped, but the message wasn't from Derek. It was from Scott.

"Hey. I'm here."

I frowned, looking out the window to find Scott standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital. He waved when I saw him and jogged over to the car. I leaned forward to unlock the door, albeit still confused.

"Didn't want to knock?" I asked as he climbed into the car.

"I didn't want to scare you." Scott turned in his chair, offering me a soft smile. It looked a lot more convincing than Stiles's. "Are you okay?"

I considered him for a moment, pressing my lips into a thin line. I was so past the point of caring whether or not I was okay. I'd caused enough trouble, and I needed people to stop caring about me. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping Lydia safe.

"I just need to find her," I said finally.

"We will," Scott assured me. "I promised I wasn't going to let anything happen to you guys. I meant it."

He didn't press me after that. We waited in silence until Stiles reemerged from the building, looking incredibly suspicious as he tiptoed down the sidewalk and scanned the parking lot like the world's sketchiest jaywalker. He wrenched the door open and hopped swiftly into the front seat, Lydia's hospital gown in hand.

"This is the one she was just wearing?" Scott asked, taking the ball of fabric. Stiles nodded, looking almost as nervous as I felt, and Scott looked between us in earnest. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again."

Stiles took one look at my less-than-consoled face and decided to answer for the both of us.

"Okay, just shove the thing in your face and let's find her."

He turned forward, thrusting the key in the ignition and making the Jeep roar to life. He went to pull out of the space, but as the headlights flashed on, they lit up a figure standing right in front of the car. Stiles let out a squawk of surprise.

"Wo—ah—ow!"

Allison rolled her eyes and ran to the passenger side to meet Scott.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded through the window. "Someone's gonna see us."

"I don't care," she replied. "She's my friend too, and we need to find her before they do."

"I can find her before the cops can," Scott assured her, but Allison didn't relax.

"How about before my father does?"

"He knows?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

"Search party," Scott murmured, sharing a worried look with Stiles.

"It's more like a hunting party," Allison corrected.

Scott glanced back at me again, my blood turning to ice at the thought. Sure, we didn't know what was really happening to Lydia, but we weren't the only ones who knew she'd been bit. The Argents had let Scott live as an exception, only because there was no proof he'd ever hurt anyone. If something was happening to Lydia, if she hurt someone before we could find her and get her under control…I doubted the Argents would grade her on a learning curve.

"Get in," Scott instructed.

He swung the door open and leaned back so Allison could crawl over him. She shot a quick, nervous smile at Stiles before falling into the seat next to me, and wasted no time in pulling me into a hug. It took me a second to respond, but I hugged back as tight as I could in the limited space of the Jeep.

It wasn't until Stiles had pulled out onto the road that she released me, but she kept her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eye. "Sadie, I'm not going to let my dad hurt her. I promise."

"Yeah, I know…I know."

"How are you holding up?" I gave her a pointed look, and her hands slipped from my shoulders. "Sorry, I know. But I felt like I should ask anyway."

We fell into silence, but unlike my quiet time with Scott, this one was deeply uncomfortable. It felt like my stomach was filled to the brim with bile, heavy and sloshing and burning everything inside of me. I tried to stay very still, while Allison couldn't stop moving at all. She nervously straightened the hat on her head, pulled at her cuffs, anything to keep her hands occupied until her resolve broke a few seconds later.

"God, I am—I am so sorry that I haven't come to see you. It's just been insane. I mean, with my dad and Kate—"

"I get it," I cut her off, immediately suppressing the desire to hurl. "You…you didn't have to come. I don't blame you."

"Sadie, I wanted to." She rested a hesitant hand on my knee, which felt just as scorching as the guilt in my gut. "I miss you, and I wanted to talk, but…my dad's just been—"

"Insanely protective?" Scott suggested from the front seat.

Allison smiled at him apologetically before he stuck his head out the window.

"Right, so what's going on between you two?"

Allison's head snapped back to me in surprise. "What?"

"I've been MIA for like a month," I reminded her. "Clearly I'm missing something. What was Scott saying about not letting people see you together?"

A flicker of pain flashed over Allison's face. She glanced to Scott, but he was half-hanging out of the car, sniffing at the air.

"My parents agreed to let Scott go," she explained, twisting her fingers in her lap. "They stopped hunting him, but…I'm not supposed to be seeing him at all. That's the condition."

"With penalty of death," Stiles added over his shoulder. "Like, wolfsbane-bullet-to-the-face death."

"But they can't do that," I objected immediately. "Scott hasn't killed anyone. He saved us! I mean—what happened to the code?"

Allison shrugged timidly. "I don't think my dad was thinking about the code when he found us making out in Scott's car…"

I sank down in my seat, rubbing hard at my eyes. If there was anything that could have made the situation worse, it was that. I was glad that Scott was safe for now, but if the Argents were waffling on their dedication to the code, there was a good chance I was fucked. I'd done more damage than Scott had, and I didn't know that my human blood was going to be enough to save me.

"Hey, we're gonna figure something out," Stiles said, catching my eye in the mirror. "I mean, everyone here accepted that Scott was a werewolf, and that was a miracle. If we can all get over that colossal shock and survive a whole semester without getting a claw to the throat, we can find a way around this. Soon enough, it'll all be happy, happy, joy, joy."

I sighed at the reassurance, then narrowed my eyes at Allison. Her eyebrows were raised innocently, but her cheeks were starting to flush from more than the cold, one hand reaching up to scratch at her eyebrow. I actually managed to smirk.

"Aaand Scott has totally already been to your house 'finding a way around it' since your dad threatened him, hasn't he?"

Allison bit her lip to hide her smile, and Scott let out a choking noise as he fell back into the passenger seat. Stiles snorted in amusement, punching him on the shoulder.

"That's my boy."

"Obviously," I giggled. "Horndogs."

Scott whirled around in his seat, waving his hands defensively. "Hey! It's not like we're not being careful. I just got Allison back and—"

"Oh, shut up, Puppy Love." I grabbed the top of his head, turning it forward again. "I'm only joking. And as sweet as I think it is that you're risking your life to be together, I'd rather you stick your head out the window and concentrate."

I'd been smiling, but the words effectively zapped the good mood out of the air. Scott gave a dutiful nod, pressing his nose into the fabric and returning to his position in the window. Stiles's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and Allison turned back to me.

"Has she shown any signs of turning? Anything at all?"

"No. I mean, she's barely been conscious for a day. She's still got the bite in her side, I haven't seen her eyes change color, no flashes of aggression or violence—well, anything more than the usual. I…I really thought she was okay…"

Stiles shot Allison a look in the mirror. "Alright, but if she's turning, would they actually kill her?"

"I don't know," Allison sighed. "They won't tell me anything, okay? All they say is, 'We'll talk after Kate's funeral, when the—the others get here.'"

"What others?" Stiles and I asked, in unison and alarm.

"I don't—they won't tell me that either."

"Okay," Stiles sighed as the bile began to burn away at the floor of my stomach. "Your family has some serious communication issues they need to work on. Scott, are we going in the right direction?!"

Scott sniffed the air, on his feet as he stretched his neck to its fullest extent. "Take the next right!"

The tires screeched as Stiles fought to oblige, the car jerking around a corner and making Allison and I slide in the back. He mumbled an apology, but it was unnecessary. I couldn't care less about staying upright. The only thing that mattered was getting to Lydia.

It went on like that for a while, Stiles urging the car faster and faster while Scott hung on for dear life and shouted back to us like we were playing a game of Marco Polo. Allison and I were quiet in the back, until I realized just how far we'd driven into the woods.

"Left," I said suddenly, making everyone turn to me.

"Left?" Stiles repeated. "Why left?"

"She's going to Derek's."

It was the only possible explanation. This part of the forest, at least, was eerily familiar, not too far from the path Kate had used to get us to the Hale house. And if something supernatural was driving Lydia to run, the charred house was probably one of the most supernatural places in town.

Stiles looked to Scott for confirmation. With one last sniff, he nodded and Stiles floored it, glad to have a destination in mind instead of anxiously waiting for directions. We flew between the trees, over the endless piles of dead, decaying leaves that swirled in front of the headlights in the dark. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to know exactly where he needed to go, because in a few minutes, he stopped the car.

Just like the night of the formal, we didn't pull right up to the house. The noise might scare Lydia off, and we weren't the only people looking for her. Stiles's Jeep was too recognizable to leave just anywhere, so we parked in a tight patch of trees and continued the rest of the way on foot. Scott took the lead, nose in the air, and Stiles brought up the rear. He checked behind us every few seconds to make sure we weren't being followed, and let his hand dart out to steady me every time he thought I was in danger of tripping.

It only took a few minutes to get there. The Hale house was still twisted and blackened against the night sky, exactly as it had been before. It was as if nothing had even happened. Scott and Allison forged ahead, but I froze on the edge of the clearing, my eyes fixed on a patch of leaves, exactly where Kate had been, where I'd stood when…

Stiles stepped in front of me, breaking my line of sight.

"You gonna be okay?"

I blinked a few times, and forced myself to lie. "Yeah. It's just…weird. Coming back here."

"I know. But he's dead. No worries."

I bit my tongue. I wanted to snap at him that Kate was dead too, and we had plenty of worries: Lydia, Derek, the Argents, "the others." Just because Peter was gone didn't mean our problems were over. But I didn't have the energy to yell at him. I knew he was just trying to help. So instead, I let him put his hand on my back and guide me farther into the yard.

"She came here?" Stiles asked Scott, eyeing the house warily. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. This is where the scent leads."

"Okay, but has Lydia ever been here?"

"Not with me," Allison answered, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Absolutely not. I hadn't been here either until…"

I forced myself to stop talking. I was just making everything worse.

"Maybe she came here on instinct," Allison suggested. "Like she was looking for Derek."

"You mean looking for an Alpha?" I asked, my stomach lurching at the thought.

She threw me an apologetic look, but nodded. "Wolves need a pack, right?"

"Not all of them," Scott objected.

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha?" Allison pressed. "Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?"

Scott and I shared a look before he answered, remembering all too well the hold Peter had over him after the bite.

"Yeah," he told her reluctantly. "We're—we're stronger in packs."

"Like strength in numbers?"

"No, like literally stronger, faster, better in every way."

Allison nodded in understanding, but a few seconds later, a worried look crossed her face. "Is that the same for an Alpha?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed anxiously. "That'll make Derek stronger too."

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to push my conversation with Derek from my mind. I knew that he was looking for power, desperate enough to come talk to me in public. I didn't doubt that he'd accept Lydia into the pack if she was turning, even if he wasn't particularly keen on the idea. He wasn't in the position to refuse allies, and at the very least, he wouldn't want a potential resource falling into the wrong hands. Derek had asked me to keep him updated on her condition. He must've had some inclination this might happen. If he was out looking for her, I'd rather he found her before the Argents. At least Derek wouldn't kill her.

"But Lydia's not a werewolf," I said stubbornly. "So I guess we don't have to worry about that."

Allison and Scott both threw me skeptical looks, but didn't argue. I'd like to think it was because of my conviction, but I was pretty sure they were humoring me. One disagreement and I might tailspin into another mental breakdown.

"Ooh, hey! Look at this!"

Stiles had circled the entire yard ending in a pile of leaves a few feet behind us. I shuffled over to him, but he held up an arm to indicate that I shouldn't get too close.

"You see this?" he asked, gently twirling his fingers around a thin black wire. It was almost invisible in the dark, stretched out between two trees. "I think it's a tripwire…"

"Fair bet," I sighed, my arms wrapping around my waist as Allison joined us. "The Argents already know Lydia was attacked. If they weren't looking for her, they were probably hoping to catch Derek. This place is probably full of—"

Stiles tugged on the wire, and I clapped my hands over my mouth. We waited a beat, and when nothing happened, I kicked him over into the leaves.

"Stiles!"

"Ow! What?!"

"You don't just trip a tripwire! You have no idea what it's going to do! We could've been shot! What if that had been rigged to a crossbow or something, genius?!"

"Oh my God, would you chill? It didn't do anything!"

"Uh, Stiles?" Scott's voice interrupted.

"Yeah, buddy? …Oh."

Apparently, pulling on the tripwire had done something. Scott, who was still behind us, had been hoisted up into the air by his ankle, where a rope had snagged around his leg. He was hanging awkwardly, his arms and legs splayed wide as he swung back in forth, but it didn't look like he'd been injured. Really, he just looked resigned.

"Next time, shut up and listen to Sadie, okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Stiles agreed, ducking his head. "Noted."

Allison giggled next to me and I grumpily pulled Stiles to his feet. Once he was safely standing, I hit him again. He whined and clutched at his shoulder.

"Ow! Would you stop being so violent?!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

"Wha—I'm not! I have very delicate skin! I bruise easy!"

"Well, thank you. I'll keep that in mind for future reference. Be gentle."

Stiles immediately stopped his flailing, his eyes going wide. I quirked an eyebrow, but he just continued to start at me, slack jawed. It wasn't until I noticed Allison trying to smother her laughter that I realized what I had said. My jaw dropped too.

"Oh my God! Stiles! So not what I meant!"

"W-What?! You did—no, I—I—I didn't say—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Scott's ended the feud, waving his arms in a frantic attempt to shut us up. We all froze, looking down at him as he narrowed his eyes at the woods. "Someone's coming."

"Someone like who?" I asked urgently.

"I don't know. G-go! Hide!"

We all exchanged a look for a moment. I was apprehensive about leaving Scott in the open, but he didn't seem to care.

"Go!"

Stiles, Allison and I all scrambled for the trees at his insistence, tripping over each other as we searched for a hiding spot. Allison ducked behind a bush as Stiles grabbed my waist and pulled me behind a large tree. I pressed myself back into his chest, trying not to breathe. I could hear the rustling leaves nearby now, multiple sets of footsteps…

"Scott."

That was Mr. Argent's voice—unsurprising, but still enough to make my skin tingle with panic.

"Mr. Argent," Scott replied, his voice strained from the stress of hanging upside down.

"How are you doing?"

"Good. You know, just…hanging out."

I had to elbow Stiles as he let out a soft snort.

"Is this one of yours?" Scott asked casually. "It's—uh—good. Nice design. Very constricting."

"What are you doing here Scott?" Allison's father replied, not as charmed by the joke as Stiles had been.

"Looking for my friend," Scott answered.

"Ah, that's right. Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it…? Part of your pack?"

"Actually, clique sounds about right to me."

"I hope so. Because I know she's a friend of Allison's, and one special circumstance—like yourself? One, I can handle. Not two. And certainly not three."

"Three?" Scott asked, legitimately surprised.

"We know that Lydia wasn't the only one the Alpha attacked, Scott. Everyone is a threat."

My heart leapt into my throat. I felt Stiles wrap a protective arm around my waist as Scott spluttered.

"W-what, Sadie?! You think Sadie is a threat?!"

"I think Sadie's already demonstrated that she's capable of being a threat when she wants to be," Mr. Argent said coolly. "Scratches can turn people if they're deep enough. She keeps very particular company. And it hasn't escaped my notice that she's been conspicuously absent from your little clique since that night."

"Because she's been in the hospital!" Scott argued. "Taking care of her best friend! Not because she turned!"

"Good. Because I don't want to be blamed for taking all of my daughter's friends away."

"She's not a werewolf," Scott growled, so low that I could barely hear him, "and that means you can't touch her."

There was a beat of silence. It was barely a second, but it felt so long that I might as well have been dead already.

"As long as it stays that way, Sadie is none of my concern," Mr. Argent replied at last. "If she starts to follow down the same path as her…other friends? I can't promise I'll be so forgiving."

"Leave her alone," Scott ordered, and I heard the older man sigh.

"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?"

I grabbed the arm that was wrapped around my waist, gripping Stiles's wrist with white knuckles. We all knew exactly what that was, and if Allison's father was planning on attempting one, nothing was going to keep me out of that clearing.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," Scott replied.

"It's a medical term for amputating someone at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that…let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

We waited for a reply, but there was none. The leaves rustled again—Mr. Argent and whatever companions he'd brough with him retreating back into the woods, leaving Scott to dangle in midair. As soon as the coast was clear, I made a break to help him…only I couldn't move. Stiles had locked his arms around me, gazing down at me with unabashed worry. I softened.

"Stiles, I'm fine. We all know I'm not turning, and you just heard him say they're not gonna touch me without proof. Honestly, I feel safer now than I have all month."

He didn't reply, but after a few more seconds of staring, he allowed me to pry his hands from my waist. I took his hand, towing him into the clearing with Scott and Allison. They paused in their conversation, watching me just as warily as I approached.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine. My head's not on the chopping block yet. Now how do we get you down from this thing?"

Even upside down, Scott still looked a little skeptical, but Allison accepted my request to move past the subject.

"Come on. Help me with this."

She gestured over my shoulder and dashed past me, heading for a large tree where the cords of the contraption seemed to converge. Stiles followed the tripwire from the ground while Allison and I inspected the clamp that was holding everything together, but before I could even get the slightest idea of how the trap worked, the wire fell slack. There was a soft thump behind us, and we turned around to find Scott already back on his feet. He held up his claws with a smug smile.

"Thanks, but…I think I got it."

"Hm…yeah," Stiles mused, returning to his full height.

"You know," I offered, "for professional werewolf hunters, this is kind of a terrible trap. I mean, sure, you've got the element of surprise, but is it really worth it if it's that easy for them to escape?"

"You want my dad to make his traps more deadly?" Allison asked, laughing.

"No, of course not. Better for us. I'm just saying…weak."

"Guys?" Scott asked, amused by our giggling. "You coming?"

I looked after him, the house looming behind him, and sobered. Right. Lydia.

I nodded vehemently and marched forward, ignoring the pangs of fear and uneasiness in my stomach and walking up the porch steps to the house.

We ended up splitting into pairs to cover more ground. Allison and Scott searched upstairs to check all the rooms. The house was pretty unstable, and it was unlikely Lydia would actually be up there, but there was no way we weren't checking. That left Stiles and I to search the ground floor.

It was heartbreakingly eerie, and not just because of what had happened last time I'd been inside. There were still traces of the Hale family all throughout the ruins. It was strange to walk through its halls, see the scorched remains of what was left, the little clues as to what each room had been. An upturned table and several broken chair legs suggested one room had been the dining room. The old kitchen had a countertop that was still pretty much intact, the hollow shells of cabinets hanging along the walls. That room looked like it might have been a study, this one a spare bedroom. It was more Hale family history than I'd been prepare for, and especially after my earlier conversation, my heart ached for Derek. He'd already lost so much…

We checked the basement too, but there was no sign of Lydia. Nothing was down there except a few spare wires and chains, evidence of Derek's torture. Stiles had quickly pulled me back upstairs, which left us with just one room left: the living room.

I faltered for a second as I walked in. Time had played so many tricks on my mind, I wasn't sure if my memory felt like it was from yesterday or a hundred years ago. There was the hole Peter's fist had left in the wall, the chair Derek had smashed when he'd been thrown across the room. There was a dark stain on the floorboards that I tried not to inspect too closely. It marked the place where Kate's body had been lying, when Peter had ripped her throat open and thrown her aside. The whole room was still covered in dirt and dust, but there was a wide circle in the middle of the room where it had been cleared away, the floorboards wiped clean.

"Sadie—"

"Is…is that…?"

Stiles glanced between me and the floor, his jaw locking in place. "Come on, you don't need to be in here."

"No, no"—I waved him off and stepped farther into the room—"I'm okay, I just…is that where he buried him?"

Stiles sighed and wiped a hand down his face. Obviously, this was not something he wanted to discuss with me. I understood that, but on the other hand, I wanted to know. I needed to know that he was down there, dead, his eyes closed instead of glowing red.

"Yeah," Stiles replied at last. "I think it's a family thing. I mean, he tried to bury his sister here too, so…"

I nodded in silence. That made sense. Even after everything Peter had done, he was still family. In his own twisted way, he had been doing what he thought was right, avenging his family because there was no way to bring them back. And yet, I didn't like the idea of him being buried in this room. This was where he'd killed Kate, where he'd won. I didn't want him to feel victorious in the afterlife. I would've felt better if he was in an unmarked grave in the woods, some deep hole where no one would ever know him, where people could walk irreverently over his grave. Suddenly, I wished I didn't know where he was after all.

"Come on," Stiles urged after a few seconds. "Lydia's not here. Let's go."

"Yeah…yeah, I guess you're right…"

I turned my back on the scene, trying to lock the traumatic memories away once more.

Scott and Allison met us in the front hall and we gathered in a small circle. It was already pretty obvious what was about to be said.

"There's no sign of her upstairs," said Allison.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, nothing downstairs either."

"But she was here, right?" I asked Scott. "She was definitely here?"

"Yeah, she was here," he confirmed. "Her scent's all over the place."

"Okay? Well if she's not here, then where did she go next?"

"That's the thing." Scott shuffled on his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. He glanced up at me, around at our friends, and then back at the dirty floor. "I…I don't know…"

"You don't know?" I repeated furiously. "How could you not know? You said you could smell her."

"I can smell her here, but after that, the trail sorta goes cold."

"What do you mean it goes cold?! She can't just stop smelling like herself, Scott!"

"I know! But—but I can't smell it. Her scent's stronger here. She might've been here for a while, but the wind's already starting to blow her scent all around. If she left, I can't tell which way she went."

There were a few torturous seconds of silence. I forced myself to take deep breaths. Yelling at Scott wasn't going to help anything. He wasn't the reason Lydia was missing, and it wasn't his responsibility to hand her back to me. I knew he was trying the best he could, but that didn't make me any less desperate.

"Okay. Okay, then—then maybe she didn't leave. Right? You—you said if she left, but if there's no trail away then maybe that's because she didn't leave! Maybe she's still here!"

"Sadie," Stiles said softly, amber eyes watching me sadly. "We checked the whole house. She's not here."

"Then what do I do, huh?! What am I supposed to do with myself while my best friend is running around in the woods going out of her fucking mind?!"

A stunned hush fell over the house, everyone watching me warily as I glared Stiles down. But he held firm. He didn't even look angry. Stiles of all people understood how worried I was about Lydia, and his knowing gaze took the wind right out of my sails. Even if he was willing to let me yell at him, he didn't deserve it. Not after sleeping in a hospital chair for weeks at a time.

"It's getting late," Allison observed meekly. "I need to get home before my dad realizes I'm—"

"So that's it?" I asked, my voice trembling. "We just go home? Leave her to wander around in the middle of winter while we all go to bed?"

"Sadie, she's my friend too—but we have no idea where she is, or how to find her, and if my dad finds out I snuck out to help you guys find Lydia, Scott and I are both dead."

"Very dead," Scott agreed.

I chewed on the inside of my cheeks, my eyes roving the room as if I expected Lydia to suddenly wander out on her own. Scott rested a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. I saw the hurt flash across his face, but he buried it fast.

"Sadie, you should go home. I know you don't want to, but…there's not a lot you can do out here. I promise I'll find her."

"What about the Argents?" Stiles asked. "I'm not really loving the sound of that whole…hemicorpo-cutty thing."

"Allison's dad already knows I'm out here," Scott dismissed. "It's just gonna make things worse if he finds out you guys are too. I'll keep looking for Lydia."

"If…if you find anything," I started, and Scott nodded.

"You'll be the first to know."

I wanted to protest, but Scott stared me down. There was no fighting against those damn, sad puppy dog eyes.

I moved Scott's hand off my shoulder, pulling him into a quiet hug that hopefully conveyed all of my thanks. Scott rubbed my back reassuringly, and then, just like last time, passed me off to Stiles to evacuate me from the scene.

We walked back to the Jeep with Allison in tow. She insisted I sit in the back with her, where she wrapped an arm around me and let me rest my head on her shoulder. I couldn't fathom why she was comforting me—after all the yelling I'd done, after all the times I'd lied, after I'd shot her aunt in front of her face—but I was too tired to question it. We could talk about everything I'd done another day.

The whole ride, Stiles continued glancing at us in the rearview mirror. It was a little annoying to be watched like a time bomb, but even with everything going on, I could feel the feeble butterflies in my stomach whenever he looked at me. Then the guilt would resurge, swallowing them whole. Not only was I going home to sleep in my warm bed while Lydia ran naked through the woods, but I was giggling about some boy while I did it.

Not until after Lydia's safe. Then you can deal with Stiles. After she's home and safe.

We dropped Allison off first, but didn't stick around to watch her go inside. We couldn't risk being spotted on the curb, not in Stiles's bright blue Jeep. He hardly stopped as Allison jumped to the pavement, and drove a few blocks away before pausing to let me climb into the front seat with him. He still didn't say anything, just sent me a small smile and let me curl up in silence. I was grateful. I wasn't sure I could keep up a conversation.

When we pulled up to my house, I noticed that the cars were still gone. Everyone must still be at the hospital. I tried to ignore the relentless guilt, the voice reminding me that everyone was still awake and waiting for an update while I went home. I knew that I'd already done more for Lydia than any of the adults could have. It just didn't change anything.

Stiles turned the engine off and hopped out of the driver's seat, walking around so he could open the door for me. I slid out, but kept my head down, staring resolutely at the pavement. He walked me up the driveway, up the steps, up to the front door. Then there was a long pause.

"Thanks for driving me home," I said quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's no problem."

I dug my hand into my purse to fish out my keys. I unlocked the door, and was about to go inside when Stiles made an awkward coughing sound behind me. He was shuffling his feet, arms behind his back as he stared at the ground in concentration.

I pouted at him. "Are you okay?"

He let out a long stream of air and forced his head up.

"I, uh…I know this might not be the best time, but um…I just…well, I grabbed this when I got Lydia's hospital gown, because it was sitting on a chair in her room and I saw it so I thought, you know, why not and I know that you're not feeling great and this—this totally might not make you feel better but uh…yeah…"

He pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing the brown teddy bear he'd left for me in the hospital while I was sleeping. His fingers tugged anxiously on the bear's T-shirt, still declaring "Thinking of You."

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips, and just as quickly, it fell away. The stuffed animal was cute. It was adorable and sweet and cuddly, and everything I felt like I wasn't. Not right now. I was almost afraid that if I touched the bear, the poor thing might burst into flames. Or sprout two holes where the stuffing would spill out.

Stiles noticed my hesitance, but didn't push me. It took me a few seconds to find my voice buried under all the bile clogging my organs.

"What Allison's dad said…about me being a threat. Not just because I could turn but—but because I can be a threat when I want to be. I know you weren't there, but—"

"Scott told me."

His voice was quiet as he cut me off, but I couldn't identify any one emotion. He didn't sound angry, or comforting, or sad. It was just a fact: Scott had already told him. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. I was relieved that I didn't have to explain myself, see the shock on his face when he found out what I'd done, but now I couldn't pick and choose what words I wanted to use. Scott had already said them and Stiles already knew. He already had his opinion of me, and I was too afraid to look at him to find out what that was.

"Right," I said shakily. "Well, I…it was awful. I just keep replaying it over and over in my head. And I know I can't change what I did, and I don't know if it matters, but I—I don't want to be that person. The person I was that night, when she was laughing at me. But I still did it, so…if you…I don't know. If you don't…"

"If I don't what?" Stiles repeated. I couldn't look at his face, but the teddy bear left my field of vision as he lifted it. "If I don't want to give you this bear? If I don't want to drive you home anymore? If I don't want to talk to the girl who's repeatedly saved my life because she shot the woman who tried to kill my best friend?"

"Stiles, I was the one—"

"Right, right," he dismissed, sounding almost annoyed. "You were holding the gun. Scott said that. You were holding it while she told you what to do, and when you didn't do what she wanted you to do, she tried to kill Scott and you shot her. So you saved him."

"And what if that killed her?!" I finally looked up at him, eyes already filled with tears. "What if I shot her and that's the reason she died? Because I shot her twice, Stiles! The first one was to save Scott, but the second—"

"She had coming."

My jaw dropped in shock, but Stiles was just the opposite. His jaw was rigid, his face unyielding as his nostrils flared. He looked so angry, it was almost hard to speak.

"Stiles…Kate was human," I said slowly. "And unarmed. And I shot her."

"Yeah, and you know who else was human and unarmed? The kids that she burned alive. Scott told me what she did, Sadie—what she said to you—and I know you may not want to hear it, but Kate wasn't a good person. She was using you, so I'm not gonna let you do this to yourself. I'm not gonna watch you destroy yourself because you hurt a child murderer. You hurt her, okay? You didn't kill her. And maybe it makes me a terrible person, but I just—I really don't care!"

I stared at him, my brain still furiously trying to catch up with our conversation. I'd been prepared for Stiles to be scared of me, disgusted even. Scott might've said it wasn't my fault, but he was the optimist. I wasn't sure that Stiles was going to feel the same.

He certainly wasn't acting calm and forgiving like Scott. The anger in his voice had thrown me. I'd expected him to be mad at me, but that wasn't it at all; he was mad at Kate. Not just because she was a criminal, but because she upset me. That alone sounded wrong, but somehow, I felt the bile getting thinner in my stomach.

Stiles seemed to realize that he'd come on a little too strong. He reeled himself in, eyes closing momentarily.

"Sorry," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I—you know, I practiced that and I still screwed up. I didn't think this was gonna come up so fast, um…obviously I care. I know Allison lost someone she cared about, and I know you liked her, and I know that you feel awful, and I—I totally get that. I get why you're sad and why you're scared, but it doesn't change anything about—it doesn't change the way—no, ah…it doesn't change, um…this."

He held up the teddy bear again, shaking it back and forth so that the arms and legs danced. Then he pushed it into my hands, and even though I tensed, the bear didn't burst into flames. The fabric stayed intact and the stuffing stayed inside.

"It's just something," he insisted, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "For now. I don't expect, you know—it's just…a thing…anyway, I can just—"

I grabbed Stiles and pulled him into a hug. I held him so tight, I might as well have been trying to fuse us together. I buried my face in the hood of his sweatshirt, and he wrapped his arms around me, one around my waist and one around my shoulders. I felt his fingers tracing the marks Peter had left behind, stroking the line through the fabric of the second sweatshirt he'd lent me.

"Everything's gonna be okay," he promised into my hair. "We're gonna find Lydia. We'll figure out how to make the Argents lay off, and Scott will be with Allison, and all of this…we'll deal with it. Okay?"

I nodded and pulled away, still sniffling. Stiles didn't let go of my waist. He stared down at me in earnest, willing me to believe his words, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't. Not even with those maple eyes watching me so carefully. He tentatively lifted his hand, brushing a tear off my cheek that I hadn't even realized was there. My stomach tumbled, and I forced myself to step back completely.

"I'm, um…I'm gonna try to get some sleep."

Stiles blinked. "Right, yeah. I mean, good."

"If you, uh…you know, if your dad—"

"I'll call you," he agreed, shoving his hands back in his pockets. "I'll let you know if I hear anything. Just try and get some rest."

"Okay. I'll just…sorry, and—and thank you! Really, just…"

Stiles took a step away from the door with a solemn but understanding smile.

"Night, Bennet."

I let out a soft sigh of relief. "Yeah. Night, Stilinski."

I quickly ducked into the house, closing the door behind me and locking it. I steadied myself on the wall, then peeked out the window so I could watch Stiles scuff his way back to the Jeep, climb inside, and drive off. I sighed in relief, then immediately wished he'd come back.

I hadn't truly been alone since the night of the formal. The dark shadows in the house made me jumpy, and I checked all the doors and windows twice to make sure that they were locked. It wouldn't do much to stop a werewolf, or a trained hunter, but it made me feel better anyway.

I completed my bedtime routine as if everything was normal. I changed into my pajamas, washed my face, brushed my teeth, but when I got back to my room, I could only stare at my bed. The sheets were neatly tucked in. Overly neat, as if my mom had made my bed five times while I'd been away. Maybe sleeping in my own bed would help. Maybe I would be able to pretend that everything was fine. Maybe…

I walked out of the room. Down the hall, I stopped in front of Lydia's door. I knocked, then remembered that no one was home to hear me, and let myself inside.

It looked almost exactly the way we'd left it before the dance. A handful of bobby pins were scattered over Lydia's vanity. The bottle of nail polish had not been put away. The clothes in her closet were still rustled and out of place. Her bed was made, but it wasn't as neat as mine. There were wrinkles and pits in the fabric, as if someone had repeatedly sat down all over the mattress. Evidently, I hadn't been the only one with this idea.

I padded into the room, reverently pulling the covers back and tucking myself into Lydia's bed. I just stayed completely motionless, breathing deeply. I could feel the tingling in my limbs, the heaviness of my head, the stinging behind my eyes as I teetered on the edge of completely losing it. My vision began to blur, but before I could properly break down, a bright light shone through the darkness.

I blinked the tears forming in my eyes, struggling to adjust as my hands fumbled through the sheets, looking for my phone. I opened the new text message, barely registering that it was from Derek.

"I'll find her."

That was all it said, just three words, but knowing that he was out there with Scott, that he still cared enough to help, that I hadn't completely fucked up every relationship in my life, helped to ease the knot in my stomach. My breathing returned to normal and, as the tension left my body, I realized that I was completely and utterly exhausted. From sleeping at the hospital, from searching for Lydia, from worrying, from blaming myself. I was drained.

I locked my phone and slid it back into the sheets next to my head, close enough that if someone were to call me with news, I would wake up. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and curled into a ball on my side, arms wrapped tightly around the stuffed bear against my chest. I buried my face in its fur and, finally, I fell asleep.