The next morning, I woke up completely disoriented. Sunlight was prying my eyes open before I'd pulled back the blackout curtains around my bed, and there was a hand shaking my shoulder from the side of my bed that should have been a wall. I had to fight to open my eyes, groaning at the pain in my head—but that was the consequence of excessive crying.

"Hey there, sweetie," Mom said softly. She brushed some of the hair out of my eyes as I rolled over to face her. "You finally get some sleep?"

"Actually…yeah."

I pushed myself up, propping myself against the pillows on Lydia's bed. Physically, I felt like shit; my eyes were puffy and dry from the constant waterworks the day before, and my throat felt pretty raw too. Whether that was from crying or walking around in the cold with a wet sweater, I couldn't tell just yet.

But inside, I felt a little bit better. At the hospital, I'd almost always been running on adrenaline and fear. I stayed awake as long as I could so I wouldn't miss any sign of Lydia's recovery, and in those long hours, my brain ran through the same pointless worries and destructive thoughts over and over again. Now that I'd given my mind some time to rest, I felt like I'd been able to process some of it. That, or I just hadn't remembered everything I was supposed to be worried about.

Mom plopped down on the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and letting me lean my head against her chest. She ran her fingers through my hair, and my eyes threated to flutter shut again.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

I lifted my head just enough to give her a pointed look.

"Yeah, okay," she sighed in defeat. "Stupid question."

"Has…? Has anyone…?"

"No. No word yet. Sheriff Stilinski's organizing search parties to go looking for Lydia today. We'll get her home."

I lowered my head back to her shoulder, eyes tracing the complex floral pattern of her shirt. She twirled a strand of my hair around her finger and changed the subject.

"How about this? I will go make us some cinnamon rolls, and then we can sit around in our pajamas and watch old cartoons, huh?"

"I can't," I said with a small smile. My eyes darted to the clock on Lydia's bedside table. "I'm gonna be late."

"Sorry? Late for what?" she asked with feigned ignorance. "You got a hot date or something?"

"Mom—"

"No! That's totally cool. Though, I don't think the Sheriff's gonna be thrilled about Stiles missing school."

"Well, that won't be a problem, seeing as we will both be in class. First day back."

Mom chuckled, but it was short lived. She pursed her lips as she looked down on me, cradled in her arms, like I was some kind of wounded animal.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this, honey? I mean, your shoulder's still healing and Lydia's not home. People are gonna want to know what happened. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to stay home."

"I know," I mumbled, picking at the blankets, "but I don't want to miss school."

"Sadie, I skipped school more in a semester than you have in your entire life. And I never had a reason as good as hospitalization."

I grinned in spite of myself, planting a kiss on her shoulder. Then I forced myself upright so I could stretch my arms out in front of me.

"It's just been a long couple of weeks," I said, rolling my head around to loosen my neck. "You were right. I spent way too much time in the hospital, and I feel like I missed out on a ton. Plus…I don't think I could just sit around at home, you know? It's like, if I'm here, then shouldn't Lydia be too? But…she's not, and then every second I'm just—I'm waiting for her to walk around the corner and she doesn't and then I remember and…it's like finding out all over again. I know it's not gonna fix everything, and I'm sure it will suck for a hundred different reasons, but…at least at school there's a distraction from the…glaringly obvious, empty space where she's supposed to be."

Mom watched me for a minute; then she leaned forward and placed her hand on top of mine. Her wedding ring felt cold against the back of my hand.

"You know none of this is your fault, Sadie. You had no idea that thing was going to attack you. We're gonna find Lydia and it's gonna be okay."

It was the worst thing she possibly could have said. I clenched my teeth, trying to force all the feelings inside me into a bottle I could hide away again. I didn't have time for all this guilt. It wasn't helping anyone.

"Do you mind if I take the van?" I asked.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'd rather have the car if I decide I need to make a quick escape."

"Okay, well…if you're sure…"

I offered her a feeble smile. "Thanks, Mom."

She smiled back, but it was saturated with sadness.

"I love you, you know that?" She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and I closed my eyes again. "This year has been so…colossally difficult, and to see you keeping your head up as if this is all normal…I don't know. It just reminds me how strong you really are. And I'm really proud of you."

I swallowed thickly, flipping the one hand she'd covered so I could hold her own. "I love you too, Mom."

"Well, I'd certainly hope so," she scoffed, effectively breaking the sappy tension. "And if you're going to insist on going to school, then I'm going to insist on at least making you a bagel or something. No pain meds on an empty stomach."

It took some time to peel myself off Lydia's bed. I simultaneously wanted to be surrounded by reminders of her and not reminded of her at all. I compromised by borrowing a charm bracelet from her jewelry box, then carefully closed the door to her room, as if I was protecting it from contamination from the rest of the house. When I got dressed, I even picked out a dress and slipped into a pair of heels. It was the least Lydia would have insisted of my triumphant return to Beacon Hills High School.

Even though I'd been determined to go, the drive there was torture. I hadn't driven in ages, and my foot was clumsy on the breaks and sluggish on the gas pedal. It felt like re-learning how to drive from scratch. I put on some music, then turned it off. I opened the windows, but closed them after a few minutes. I just didn't know how to get comfortable.

I killed the engine when I found a parking spot, but still couldn't move. Technically, I didn't have to go to school. Mom was obviously okay with me skipping. Maybe I could just take the car somewhere else, away from all the prying eyes who wanted to know what happened to me. I nixed that idea before I could even imagine where I'd go. If I skipped, the school would call home, and me going off alone while Lydia was already missing would probably send my mom off the deep end. I'd have Sheriff Stilinski and a team of state troopers on my ass in less than an hour.

And then, as if in answer to all my doubts, my eyes landed on the one thing that instantly made me feel more secure: Stiles and Scott were walking up the path to the school doors. Their heads were ducked low, and they glanced around while they conversed in low voices. I didn't even care if they had news about Lydia. Just being around people who knew what I was really going through would be a relief.

I climbed out of the car, swinging my bag up onto my free shoulder and jogging to catch up with them.

"It's the most nutritious part of the body," Stiles was saying to Scott as I came up on his other side.

"The liver?"

"Agh! Holy mother of—"

"Are we talking about zombies or Hannibal Lecter?" I asked with a smirk. But neither of them laughed. Instead, both boys stared at me like they'd seen a ghost, completely immobile and sheet white. I raised an eyebrow. "…Zombie-Hannibal Lecter?"

"Sadie!" Stiles hissed, glancing up and down the path before glaring at me. "What—what the hell are you doing here?!"

"Learning, so the state tells me. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do I—do I have a—yes! Yes, I do! I—I—I have a giant, humongous, freaking huge problem with that! Why aren't you at home?!"

"Because we have school," I said with a shrug.

Stiles glared fiercely. "Yeah, and you have a slashed up shoulder that put you in the hospital! You—you should not be in school!"

"Look," I sighed. "I'm not just sitting at home. My shoulder's as healed as it's gonna get and I've missed enough. Apparently your dad's trying to get people to sign up for search parties, and I'm not going to let that ride on Finstock remembering to make announcements. At least I can ask people to look out for her…I can't really do anything else…"

"Sadie, I'm sorry," Scott apologized, anxiously twisting the straps of his backpack. "I tried really hard but—"

"Scott, it's fine," I promised. "Really. Now, what is all this talk about livers?"

The two boys shared a long, sideways glance at each other, looking wary—a patented Scott-Stiles move that meant they were trying to have a silent conversation in front of me. Unfortunately for them, I'd spent enough time with them at this point to translate.

"You two wouldn't be hiding anything from me, right?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest. "Not after you both promised to tell me straight away if you heard anything?"

"Well, it—it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with Lydia," Stiles defended, waving a finger at me.

"Great. Then there's no reason to feel like you need to hide it."

"Wha—well—well, yeah, but—but, you know, it could have something to do with Lydia."

"All the more reason for you to tell me right now."

Stiles opened his mouth, then quickly snapped it shut. He turned to Scott for direction, passing the decision off to him, and Scott slumped in defeat.

"There was a grave robbery last night," he admitted quietly.

"Okay," I prodded. "A little weird, but so what?"

"Stiles's dad was investigating this morning, but they didn't take anything valuable. No jewelry, no clothes, nothing."

"Then why are you calling it a—" I trailed off as the reality of the situation hit me fully. I smacked Stiles in the chest, hard. "You heard this from your dad?! Stiles, what the hell?! What happened to 'I'll let you know if I hear anything?!'"

"I—hey!" He jumped back, hands waving frantically. "I'm—I'm sorry! I wanted to be sure and it—it doesn't necessarily mean that it's Lydia!"

"Oh, what, because we have so many other liver-snatching supernatural creatures on the loose?!" Stiles and Scott shared another look, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "No, you know what? Don't answer that. I don't wanna know the answer to that."

"If it makes you feel any better," Scott offered, "I've never eaten anyone's liver."

"Yeah, right," Stiles snorted, "because when it comes to werewolves, you're a real model of self-control."

I sighed. "Better or worse, he's the only model we've got."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Actually, wait, hold on," Stiles interrupted, ignoring Scott's outburst. "Sadie's right."

"Wow, thanks, dude."

"No, you're the test case for this. So we should be going over what happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked with a furrowed brow.

"I mean like what was going through your mind when you were turning, you know? What were you drawn to?"

Scott shrugged. "Allison."

Stiles and I rolled our eyes in unison.

"Okay, nothing else?" he asked in exasperation. "Seriously?"

"Nothing else mattered," Scott said bashfully. Stiles shook his head, and Scott rushed on, "B-but that's good, right? 'Cause the night Lydia was bit, she was with you."

"Scott, I forced her into going on a date with Stiles," I reminded him. "It's not exactly the same thing as your undying love for Allison. If it's about attraction, then she'd going after Jackson, in which case, I say good riddance."

Scott gave me a pointed look, as if to say, "Don't joke about that." Stiles waved his arms between us, trying to put an end to the conversation.

"Look, Sadie, now you know what we know, okay? I'm sorry I didn't call you, I promise that I will call you, so can you please, please, please go home?"

"No."

I brushed past him, stalking toward the school doors and leaving him and Scott to scramble after me.

"Wha—you know what? Fine!" Stiles grumbled. "Alright, fine! Stay here. Stay right here. See if I care."

"Good. Cause I'm not going home."

"Good. Fine."

"Fine."

Scott cleared his throat awkwardly. "O-kay, well then. I'm gonna…go check on Allison before practice…or something…bye."

He scurried off, leaving Stiles and I to walk down the hallway alone.

I expected him to walk away at some point, at least to stop by his locker, but he didn't. He stayed with me as I walked to my locker, completely silent and never more than a few inches from my side. He routinely scanned the hallway for threats, glared at people as they walked past us. It was like being guarded by a member of the Secret Service.

On some level, it was a comfort. People were starting to notice that I'd finally returned to school. I could feel the stares as they whispered behind my back, but no one wanted to approach me while I had company. As long as I had Stiles, I didn't have to deal with all the pestering questions: What happened at formal? Was it really a mountain lion? Do you know where Lydia is? Is she really naked? Is she crazy? Are you crazy?

At the same time, I knew Stiles had his own classes to go to. Also, having him so close to me was making my brain fuzzy in all different kinds of ways I wasn't prepared to deal with.

Stiles followed me into my classroom, walked me to my desk, and hovered next to me as I unpacked my books. I opened my notebook to a fresh page, fished a pen out of my bag, wrote my name and date on the top of the page, and then finally placed the pen next to the book.

"Stiles, is there a reason you're still here?"

"What? I'm…uh…I'm watching you."

"You realize how creepy that sounds, right?"

Stiles huffed, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulder. "Well, if you're not going to stay safely at home then I have to make sure that you're safe here."

"Stiles, that's…" I paused to glance up at him with a shy smile. "That's really sweet. But I'm fine. Besides, don't you have morning practice?"

"Safety first."

He shrugged and scuffed his heel against the floor. I turned in my seat so I could face him fully. I glanced around the room to check, but it was still fairly early, so there weren't many people around. Still, I tried to keep my voice low.

"Why are you so worried? We just decided that all the evidence points to Lydia attacking Jackson, if she attacks anyone at all. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, except what if you're not," Stiles counted. "Look, Scott was drawn to Allison but even when he was, he didn't hurt her. I don't know if you noticed, but most of the time, the person that Scott almost killed was me. Okay? His best friend. I'd say, percentage-wise, I'm probably winning in the whole attack department, and if the same thing happens to you and Lydia, I'm not leaving you unprotected."

We stared at each other for a few seconds, his eyes so insistent and intense, they almost put me in a trance.

"Um…but…but Scott didn't look for you, right?"

"What?"

"I mean, Scott never came looking for you to attack you," I clarified. "You were only in danger because you happened to be there when his control slipped. Because you're always with Scott."

"Well…yeah," he said reluctantly. "I mean—"

"Then we don't need to worry about that. I'm certainly not with Lydia now, so…"

Stiles softened, watching as I began fiddling and twirling the pen in my hands. He shuffled his feet, then squatted next to the desk so he could look me in the face.

"I am really sorry that I didn't call you. I just…I didn't want to let you know until we had a better idea what it meant. It might not have been her, and if it's not, you don't need to worry."

"Yeah, well if it is her, I do need to worry," I said, throwing my pen down. "If the Argents find out she's digging up bodies—if they even think she's—"

"Hey, it's okay." He rested his hands over mine, just the way my mom had earlier. "Listen, we're gonna find her. I promise."

I just stared at our hands. I wanted to believe him, I did; at the same time, I couldn't get Mr. Argent's words out of my head. Scott was a special circumstance, and he'd never hurt anyone in his life. If Lydia was out there eating livers on instinct, I didn't see the hunters showing any mercy. And the only reason she was out there was because I'd told Peter I didn't want the bite. I should be the one eating livers and running for my life. Then Lydia would be here in my seat, worried and sad, but safe and sound.

I slipped my hands out from under Stiles's and pulled them into my lap.

"Go to practice, Stiles. I promise, I'll be fine."

He debated for a few more seconds, but nodded. He drummed his hands on the edge of my desk and stood up, shuffling his feet again.

"Alright, I'm going. But just…just text me if you need me okay?"

"I will."

I waved him out the door. He glanced back at me one more time before venturing into the hallway, and then I was alone. Immediately, it felt like the power of all my classmates' stares had quadrupled, but I tried to ignore it. I had told Stiles I was going to be okay. So I had to be okay.

For the most part, the day went better than I expected. Only a handful of people actually had the gall to talk to me. Their questions were invasive, but mind-numbingly simple. Most people hung back, talking behind their hands and huddling in groups. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to snap. But the joke was on them, because I wasn't going to snap. Not again.

Lydia's advice from the first day of school played on a constant loop in my mind: Don't look at anyone else. Keep your eyes forward, shoulders back, chin up, and go. And just like the first day of school, I had an entourage of people willing to escort me from class to class. Stiles was at the top of the list, tripping over himself to find me in the halls even when his next classroom was on the other side of the school. Scott would walk beside me and keep up mindless conversations about lacrosse or what video games he and Stiles were trying to buy. Even Danny stuck by my side. He never pushed me to talk; I had to assume Jackson had filled him in on what was going on with me, even if he wasn't willing to talk to me himself. Danny just strolled along beside me, standing at his full height, guarding me the same way he might guard the goal on the field. But as much as I loved the boys, there was no one I was more grateful for than Allison.

She sat by my side in silence, sending me the occasional supportive smile. Neither of us had much energy to talk. I was dealing with my fair share of gossip, but Allison was dealing with far more. She was Kate's niece after all, and everyone knew that Kate had been the homicidal maniac terrorizing town for the last few months. She'd even set the Hale fire six years ago. And if Kate Argent was crazy and dangerous, obviously that meant that Allison was crazy and dangerous too.

It was near the end of the day that I was walking down the hallway to meet Allison at her locker. She was talking to some guy from our English class, until suddenly she froze. I glanced around, immediately spotting the two girls across the hall who were watching her with condescending smiles. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and sent a text to Scott.

"Allison."

I continued down the hall, ambling slowly so I could eavesdrop on the girls' conversation.

"You mean the crazy bitch who killed all those people?"

"Yeah. The fire, all those animal attacks—it was her aunt."

"Are you kidding? I sit next to her in English."

"Find a new seat."

The girls subsided into giggles, and I took that as my cue.

"Yeah, you really should find a new seat," I advised, hugging my books to my chest. "No one should have to sit next to someone so profoundly bitchy."

The intrusion took them by surprise, but the girls exchanged a sly look before laughing again.

"Is she really that bad?" asked the girl on the left.

"Oh, Allison? No. I meant you."

The laughter quickly stopped. I felt the flicker of satisfaction in my chest as they gaped at me, and I almost stopped. I had to remind myself that I didn't have a gun with me this time. I'd done far worse damage before.

"You know, you could at least have the courtesy to practice whispering, unless that requires an amount of brain power that you simply don't have. A person's family shouldn't reflect on who they are. Anything her aunt did was her own choice, not Allison's responsibility. So you two can back the fuck off."

I turned to join Allison at her locker, but doubled back one more time.

"Oh, and since my other best friend is unavailable, it's probably my duty to inform you that mindless, self-serving gossip is so middle school, and it doesn't make you look any cooler. Because you still look like you got dressed in the dark, and you have clearly been abusing your hair straightener. Maybe that's how you fried your brain."

I shrugged with a sickly sweet smile, then turned on my heel and marched to the other side of the hall. I leaned on the wall to Allison's right, catching her watery laugh before she ducked her head. She cleared her throat, then squinted at me with a smirk.

"Wow. Lydia, I didn't know you'd gone brunette."

"Hey, someone had to tell them," I dismissed. "Did you see that sweater? I did her a favor."

"Sadie, seriously. You didn't have to do that."

I was about to repeat my answer, but Allison was watching at me with such a knowing look that I swallowed the words.

Okay, so maybe I was over-compensating a little bit. I needed to defend Allison to make up for everything that I'd done. Petty gossip was nothing compared to the fact that I'd shot her favorite relative in front of her face.

"Come on," Allison urged, hooking her arm through mine.

She pulled the last of her books from her locker, along with a black dress wrapped in plastic. I tried not to look at it as she led me down the hall and into an empty classroom.

It took us a while to get situated. Allison spent a lot of time flattening her dress on one of the desks. I hopped up on top of another and began picking at the hem of my jacket. Even when Allison finally sat down, we just sat across from each other for a while, swinging our legs back and forth, thinking. So much had happened, and we'd been avoiding the subject for so long, I wasn't even sure where to start. So I went with the obvious.

"Allison, I'm sorry."

"I know."

Her voice was small, and even though she nodded and smiled, it wasn't the response I was looking for. I needed her to understand, even if she didn't accept the apology.

"No, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. That night, I…I just wasn't thinking. At all. I feel like I spent the whole night on edge, just watching one bad thing happen after another—Lydia and Stiles, and then Peter, Lydia in the hospital, Derek and Scott shifting, and…when I heard what she'd done with the fire, I just lost it. I was so upset, and I was so angry that I was upset, that there was so much to be upset about, and I…I know it wasn't all her fault, but…God, I'm sorry…"

"Sadie, I know," she repeated, a little stronger this time. "The scary thing is, I…I don't even know if I blame you…"

I looked at her, baffled. I wasn't about to tell her she was wrong—I didn't think I'd ever have the strength to correct Allison again after all the things I'd lied about—but I definitely didn't understand where she was going with this.

She twisted her ring around her finger, the skin beneath stark white from the pressure.

"When Kate showed me Derek," she started, "I was…God, I was so scared. And I was angry, because everyone had been lying to me about something so huge. I was angry at everyone except Kate. She said that she would help me, that she believed in me, that—that I was a natural talent."

The words dredged up a terrible memory from the back of my mind. Standing on the lacrosse field, shivering in the cold, Peter smiling across from me…

"And so, I did what she wanted me to do," Allison continued. "I did everything she asked, because I thought she was the only one who trusted me, and I was scared. So when she said that she wanted to bring you, I listened. And when she told me to wait until you'd distracted Scott and Derek, I listened. And when she told me to shoot Derek…I listened. But you—you didn't listen. She told you to shoot Scott, and you didn't do it."

"Yeah," I said breathlessly. "Because I turned around and shot her."

"Because you were scared," Allison countered. "Because you were mad at her, and—and so was I! I mean, how do you think I felt, sitting there watching her try to kill my boyfriend, hearing that she'd murdered all those people? She was supposed to be like my sister, the best aunt in the world, the one person who trusted me, and…honestly, if I'd been the one with the gun…I might've done the same thing."

That certainly killed anything else I'd been about to say. We sat in silence again, thinking and trying not to think, shutting it all out and trying to understand things from the other person's point of view. I'd been furious with myself for letting Kate manipulate me, but in a way, she'd been manipulating Allison too. She'd been playing off her fears, her insecurities, turning her into the tool she needed. It had just been a really, really long con. I wondered if Allison had the same burning question I did: had Kate ever cared about us at all?

"I don't know how I'm supposed to do this," Allison sighed, shaking her head. "Her funeral's in a couple hours and I…I just don't know how my dad can expect me to sit there and pretend…like there isn't going to be a media team harassing us the whole time, like we're not being talked about by the whole town, like she didn't kill people. He just wants me to pretend this is some normal funeral, and we're just…another grieving family."

"Well…you are a grieving family. I mean it," I added, when she rolled her eyes at me. "She was still your dad's sister. She was still your aunt. That doesn't change, even after everything she did."

"Shouldn't it?" Allison asked.

"Maybe. I don't think it's that simple. It's not for me, anyway."

Even though I understood what Allison meant, my head had been spinning trying to decide on one way to feel. I didn't want to be sad, because Kate didn't deserve it. I deserved to be sad, because I'd helped kill her. I shouldn't feel sad, because it hadn't really been my fault. I still felt sad, because in some twisted way, I'd still really liked Kate. I wasn't sure if there was a right answer.

"Just think about it like this," I offered. "The funeral is for Kate. The person you thought she was. You lost that person you thought was your sister, whether she's still breathing or not."

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Do you want me to come?"

"What?" She looked up sharply. "Sadie, no!"

"What?" I echoed innocently. "Would that not go over well?"

It was a risky move, and a dark, dark joke, but I'd startled her into smiling. She scoffed to hide a laugh, clamped her hands over her face, and was suddenly right back on the brink of tears.

"Sadie, you heard what my dad said last night."

"I did," I agreed. "I heard him say that as long as I'm human, he's not going to retaliate."

"Really? Because I heard him call you a threat, and we both know how he deals with threats."

I did know, and the thought sent a chill down my spine. Chris had been perfectly clear in his description of a hemicorporectomy. I was protected by the hunter's code for now, but if there was one lesson we'd learned, it was that revenge could drive people to do scary things.

"It's not that I don't want you to come," Allison said delicately. "Actually, I—I'd probably feel a lot better if you were there. But I don't trust my parents."

"Your parents?" I gave her a disbelieving smile. "After everything I've done, it's your parents you don't trust?"

Allison's lips trembled in a smile as she considered her words.

"Do you remember on Halloween, when I confronted you about Lydia and Scott? You told me that, if Lydia hadn't apologized, it was only because she was trying to figure out how to make up for something that big. And I said that I needed time to figure out if I wanted an apology."

I nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably in my seat, but when Allison looked up at me, she had her chin held high in determination.

"I've spent the last few weeks thinking it over, like obsessively. And the idea of going through all of this without you scares me so much more than the thought of forgiving you. So…I don't need an apology from you, Sadie. Because I don't blame you for what happened. I just really miss my friend."

Now I was the one on the brink of tears. I'd promised myself when I left for school that I was done with the waterworks, but all it took was one, heartfelt smile from Allison to send me toppling right over the edge. She quickly stood up, coming over to hold me while I went from tearing up straight to sobbing uncontrollably. I was pretty sure Allison had started crying too, but it was hard to hear over my own shaky breath.

The only thing that pulled us apart was the bell. We both jumped in surprise; I'd completely forgotten there were still classes to deal with. Allison and I both laughed shakily, wiping our faces. Then I got to my feet and pulled her into another hug.

"Thanks, Ally."

It was all I could manage right now, but I felt her nod into my shoulder.

"Are you gonna be okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm probably gonna skip the rest of the day. What about you?"

"I'm…" She hesitated, redirecting her sentence. "I'll manage."

It wasn't a good answer, but it was the truth.

Allison and I pulled back again when there was a knock on the door. I was sure we were about to get busted for skipping, but Scott slipped into the room with a sheepish smile. I'd also managed to forget texting him.

"Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah," Allison said with a smile. It was easy to see how much more relaxed she was around Scott. "Yeah, we're okay."

"She means 'better now that you're here,'" I added with a laugh.

Allison swatted my leg. Scott watched us in amusement, but I could tell he was still concerned. He checked Allison from head to toe for any sign of distress, then did the same for me. If he hadn't heard the conversation, he'd definitely heard us crying.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked me.

"Positive." I grinned as proof, rolling my eyes as I collected my things. "I have officially had enough learning for today, so I am going home for more prescriptions drugs. You two stay out of trouble."

They both flushed, but made no move to argue. Scott held the door open for us as we headed back into the hall, and I split off toward the parking lot while the couple walked in the other direction. I chanced one last glance behind me before I walked through the doors.

Allison and Scott were walking as slowly as humanly possible, not even the slightest bit concerned about making it to class. They strolled hand in hand, talking in low voices, their faces lit up. When no one else was around, it was safe for them to be like this. As soon as someone walked into the hallway, though, I knew they'd drop hands and take several steps apart. Just the thought of it made my chest hurt. I hoped we figured out something soon. They deserved to be together.

I called my mom to tell her I was leaving early, and that I might stop for food on the way home. I also sent a text to Stiles, just in case he went postal when I didn't show up in Biology. Then I climbed into the van, turned on the radio, and drove in the complete opposite direction of my house.

I wasn't quite sure how to get where I was going. I had to look up the location on my phone a few times, since I'd only ever been there once with Lydia, but eventually I found my way. I pulled into the tiny parking lot and parked in front of the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.

I stayed in the car a few seconds after killing the ignition, just staring at the door to the building. I hadn't expected to be this nervous. We knew that Scott's boss wasn't the Alpha, but we'd never figured out how he knew all the things he knew. He'd lied to Derek about knowing about werewolves, stitched Scott up when the Argents had shot him, even taught him new ways to tap into his powers. Dr. Deaton clearly knew more than he was letting on; it was also clear that he was hiding something, but I couldn't afford to care about that. I was desperate for answers, and he was the only person left that might be able to give them to me.

I forced myself to climb out of the car, bringing my purse with me. I felt around the bag, ensuring that my recovered taser was still inside. I was fairly certain that I wouldn't have to use it, but there was no harm in being cautious. I winced when I opened the door, setting off a loud bell.

The inside of the vet's office looked…well…like a vet's office. There was nothing immediately unusual about the place. Then again, I probably should have been used to that at this point. Scott and Derek were werewolves, and they didn't look any different. Allison's family were all trained killers, and they looked like just another family on the block. Everything in Beacon Hills seemed to be one thing hidden behind another.

The vet was standing behind the counter when I walked in, filling out some sort of paperwork. He didn't look up right away, but called, "Afternoon! How can I help you?"

"Um…hi…"

Deaton looked up from his work and paused. Careful brown eyes flicked over me as I hovered in the doorway, and he gently placed his pen aside. He folded his hands in front of him, giving me his full attention.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Depends on who you ask," I said with a shrug. "General consensus is that I probably should have stayed home today, but…too late for that, I guess."

He gave me a polite smile. It was a safe enough reaction, and I took a few more steps into the room.

"I know we, uh…don't really know each other. I'm—"

"It's nice to finally meet you, Sadie," he interrupted with a smile. "I've heard a lot about you from Scott. He may be a hard worker, but he's certainly a chatty one."

"Oh. Right, well…he's mentioned you a few times too."

"I'd assume the context isn't nearly so flattering when you've needed to discuss me."

I grimaced, recalling the several conversations I'd had with Scott and Stiles about whether or not Deaton was the Alpha. He had every right to be bitter—Derek had beaten him to a pulp and locked him in a car, after all—but Deaton simply chuckled at my discomfort.

"Uh…sorry about that," I tried.

"It's not a problem," he assured me. "I'd be surprised if you weren't suspicious, to be honest. You're smart kids. And, judging by the fact that this is your first visit and you don't appear to have an animal with you, I'm going to guess you're not here about a pet."

"…Yeah."

"Then perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere a little more private." Deaton walked around the counter and gently opened the gate, gesturing me to join him in back. I hesitated, eyeing the entrance warily. "The mountain ash walls do help protect the building from the supernatural, but I promise they won't hinder you from using that taser in your bag—should you have to."

I gulped and quickly walked over the threshold. I didn't bother asking how he'd known I had the gun. I probably wouldn't like the answer anyway.

The examination room of the clinic was just as standard as the rest—desk, sink, supply cabinets, metal examination table. There were a few diagrams and posters on the walls, reminders about flea medication and vaccinations for pets, but besides that, nothing stood out.

Deaton walked over to a shelving unit and began shuffling things around, busying himself with organization. "So what brings you to the clinic, Miss Bennet?"

Before I answered, I placed my purse on the examination table and opened the bag. The taser sat on top of the rest of my junk, perfectly accessible if I needed it to be. Better safe than sorry.

"There's been…a lot happening the last few weeks," I said carefully. "Scott, Stiles and I aren't really sure what we're doing and…we need answers."

"And what makes you think I can give you the answers you're looking for?"

I cocked an eyebrow. Was he really going to play coy after using the word "supernatural" in his own waiting room?

"Look, you obviously know something," I snapped. "I don't know why you know what you know and, honestly, I don't care. I am way out of my depth and I'm getting desperate. I know you've helped Scott, so if you're willing to help me, you're probably the best chance I've got."

Deaton paused. I wasn't sure how he could be surprised, after everything he'd done; one of us was bound to call him on it eventually. Maybe he was just surprised it'd been me. Whatever the reason, he put the glass jar he was holding back on the shelf and moved to stand on the other side of the examination table.

"What exactly do you need help with?"

"It's my friend, Lydia."

"Ah, yes. Lydia Martin. I heard about what happened at the hospital. I'm sorry."

"Do you know why she was at the hospital?"

Deaton didn't answer me, which was very frustrating. He had the same kind of blank face that Peter did, barely responding to my jabs, always looking presentable and professional. I could only hope that, behind the mask, there was something less sinister.

I didn't have time to beat around the bush, so I decided to be direct.

"Lydia and I were attacked by Peter Hale, the Alpha. He bit her side, and she didn't heal like Scott, but she didn't die either. She just…went into some kind of coma. Then she finally woke up yesterday and seemed perfectly fine, right up until she screamed and ran out of the hospital. Now she's just…gone. None of us know what's going on. I've talked to Derek and this—this expert, Dr. Fenris, and neither of them has ever heard of a case where the bite didn't kill or turn the victim immediately. So if you know something…I just want to make sure she's safe."

I took a deep breath, praying that had been the right decision. Again, Deaton didn't answer. He considered me for a few seconds, then clasped his hands on the table in front of him.

"There are several reasons that Miss Martin might have fled the hospital as she did. It's completely possible that the problem is in her mind, an psychological wound she sustained in the attack."

"Yeah. And given our track record, what are the chances it's something that simple?"

He cocked his head to the side in agreement. "There is the chance that she could be turning."

"But then why didn't her bite heal?"

"Not everyone reacts the same way. At the risk of sounding bigoted, think of it like a virus. Two people can be infected from the same source and not show the same symptoms. One might suffer from a sore throat, another from exhaustion. One person might immediately feel the effects of the illness, while it takes weeks to present in the other."

"So, you're saying she just had a delayed reaction?"

"Perhaps. It's hard to say without seeing her to observe the symptoms."

"But you think she's turning?"

He stared at me for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"I can honestly say that I've never heard of a single case where a human was bitten by an Alpha and did not undergo some sort of transformation."

"Or die," I finished, glaring down at the reflective surface of the table.

"Or die," he agreed softly.

I knotted my hands in my hair and swallowed thickly, attempting to maintain my composure as any last dregs of hope I had fell away. I'd been holding onto the possibility that Deaton would have known of some fluke cases, times when a human had survived purely on chance, or out of sheer force of will. But as it was, it looked like I was going to have two best friends who were werewolves. Assuming Mr. Argent didn't get to Lydia first.

"I am sorry, Sadie," he attempted to console me, "but just because your friend is turning doesn't mean that it's the end of the world."

"I know," I sighed, wiping my hands down my face. "I just…wish I didn't have to drag her into this…"

"Maybe it will help your relationship. You're certainly closer with Scott. And it will be much easier for Lydia cope when she doesn't have to go through it alone."

"I don't want her to go through it at all. Especially not when it's my fault."

I let my eyes sink back to the table, inspecting my warped reflection on its surface. I could feel Deaton watching me, heard him as he walked around the table to stand next to me, but I didn't tense up. I think at that point, I was too numb to care.

"You know, you're not the only person I know in this town who has a guilt complex," Deaton remarked. I looked up at him in surprise, noting the slight smile on his face. He was firm as he continued, "You can't change what happened to your friends that night. It's not fault that matters, but what happens next. Are you still planning on being friends with Lydia?"

"W-what?" I stammered, eyebrows knitting together. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Good. Then I'd say that Lydia's lucky to have someone like you help her through the transition. So is Scott."

I let out a small puff of air. I didn't really see how being friends with me was making anyone's life better lately. All I'd done for the last month was hide in a room and cry, and all I'd done for the last twenty-four hours was snap at my friends and cry some more. Even if all of them forgave me, it didn't change what I'd done.

"You mentioned that you were also attacked," Deaton said, changing the subject. "How are you feeling? Any side effects?"

"No, nothing like that," I said, rolling my shoulder experimentally. "It's been sore, but I felt a lot better after the whole 'take your pain away' thing. That was a pretty neat trick you showed Scott."

"It's certainly helpful, but it's not foolproof. So maybe…"

Deaton paused, turning away from me and returning to the wall of cabinets. He sifted through an assortment of supplies—medical supplies, cases and vials with odd markings, all of it mixed together. Finally, he pulled out a small mesh bag, the leaves inside brown and bright red, like some sort of finely chopped potpourri.

"…you should also take this."

"What is it?" I asked, accepting the bag with a nervous chuckle. "Some kind of magic herb I have to grind under the Wolf Moon for a potion?"

"Tea, actually," he said with a smirk, "but I find that even the simplest things can help in the best ways."

I nodded, pressing my lips into a thin smile. Should have known better than to expect something as obvious as a potion.

"Thanks for seeing me, Dr. Deaton."

"My pleasure, Sadie. I hope next time it's under better circumstances."

I nodded and walked back toward the lobby. I paused in front of the wooden gate and glanced back over my shoulder.

"I don't have to worry about omens or divination with these tea leaves, right?"

Deaton grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Only if you want to, Miss Bennet."