Time isn't real. It doesn't make sense. When you're dreading something, the clock always seems like it's on fast forward. When you're waiting for something, it moves that much slower. It's bullshit.

I don't know what time thought it was supposed to be doing while I was in detention. I thought the clock was broken it was moving to slowly. Maybe Harris had tampered with it to keep us there forever. I just wanted to sprint out of the room, escape Stiles and his amber eyes, figure out what exactly I wanted to say to him. On the other hand, leaving detention meant actually talking to Stiles instead of just sitting in silence, and that was almost worse. So naturally, I blinked, and it had already been several hours.

The sky was already dark outside when Harris finally cleared his throat. "Alright, both of you out of here. I have better things to do than sit in this classroom and grade papers."

"Good to know," Stiles huffed, flying out of his seat. He stormed to the front of the room, grabbing for his phone, only for Harris to yank it out of his reach.

"Careful, Mr. Stilinski, or you'll end up in the same place tomorrow. And I'm sure neither of us wants that."

I could practically hear Stiles's teeth grinding together from the other side of the room. "Yes, sir."

Harris watched smugly as we collected our things. Stiles was quick about it, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and blowing out the door. I shuffled along, slowly picking up my bag, slowly straightening my blouse, slowly fixing my hair around the strap of my book bag, but when I glanced up, it was to see that Stiles was still waiting for me in the hallway. He bounced his knee impatiently, still looking livid with Harris, but he wouldn't leave without me.

I sighed. I just had to suck it up. He was my only ride home, after all. So I slid my phone off Harris's desk and joined Stiles in the hall, falling into step behind him as we walked toward the parking lot.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, but waited until we were well out of earshot to speak.

"God, what a dick."

I snickered, letting my hair fall into my face, but not replying. Stiles glanced over at me, his hands tugging anxiously at his backpack straps.

"So, um…what's up? How's your hand?"

I shrugged and flexed my fingers experimentally. "Fine. I can barely feel it anymore."

"God, that was awesome," Stiles reminisced, punching the air in front of him and hopping down the hall. "You just—just wailed him right in the face! Oh man. And that look when he realized his nose was bleeding? Ha! I mean, I resent you hitting me too, but it was so, so totally worth it."

My hands immediately shot up to clamp over my mouth in horror. I had completely forgotten that had happened. Stiles had been holding me, and I'd elbowed him in the stomach to get at Jackson. Real smart, Sadie.

"Oh my God! I am—I am so sorry! I didn't even think—I mean—"

"Hey, hey, it's find," Stiles dismissed with a grin. "Like I said: worth it."

I bit my lip, easing my fingers apart over my chin. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" He scoffed, carelessly flicking the edges of his button down. "Psh! I'm fine. Might take me a few days to get rid of the bruise on my stomach, but I'll heal."

"Oh no! God, I'm seriously so sorry, I just—"

"Kidding!" he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just kidding. Geez, it's so easy to wind you up."

I glared at him and tried to hide my smirk by pouting. When that didn't succeed, I punching him in the shoulder with my good hand.

"Ow! Okay, that—that is gonna take some time to heal. Ouch."

I rolled my eyes, digging my teeth into my bottom lip and ducking my head as Stiles looked at me. Suddenly I was very interested in the way my boots contrasted with the floor, and it seemed very important to concentrate on making me feel fall only once on every tile.

Stiles cleared his throat. "So, is Lydia still here, or can I take you—I mean, uh—do—do you need a lift?"

"Um…yeah," I managed, peeking up at him. "I mean, if you don't—"

"Mind? No! No. Nope. That's fine. Great. Good."

"Thanks. I mean, I'd walk, but I'd like to make it home before dinner, so…"

"Yes! Yeah, I mean, how late did he even keep us? What time is it?"

"Let's see. It is…"

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but trailed off as the screen lit up. I had about ten missed calls and enough text messages to fill up the phone screen and more. My eyes knitted together as my eyes slid over the screen, catching snippets of messages sent to me by Scott and Allison.

"Isaac left in a cruiser. Derek's he…"

"We're going to Isaac's house. He sa…"

"Why aren't you guys answering your…"

"Sadie, are you and Stiles out of de…"

"Listen Gerard just got back from sc…"

"I can hear them talking about Isaac…"

"Sadie they were asking me about Lyd…"

"God! Why won't you answer your fu…"

"What is it?" Stiles asked, noticing my expression. "What's wrong?"

"Um, just—can you check your phone?"

"Wha—okay?" He tugged his phone from his pocket, his eyes going wide as mine had. "Oh, wow. I see."

"Scott and Allison?"

"Yeah. Guess something went wrong. As usual."

We shared one look before booking it for the parking lot. Stiles was fumbling with his car keys while I dialed Allison's number, muttering pleas under my breath as I waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Sadie! Finally! Oh my God!"

"I know, sorry. Harris kept us late."

"And he kept our phones!" Stiles called from beside me. "The whole freaking time."

"Well, we need to do something now. Like right now."

"What happened?" I asked. "You said something about Gerard?"

"Yeah. He and my dad started asking all these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter—"

"Shit," I hissed, digging the heel of my palm into my head. "Shit, shit, shit—"

"Shit?" Stiles demanded. "Shit what? What the hell is going on? Can you—really, can you just get in the car and put the damn thing on speaker? Thank you!"

I rolled my eyes, but obliged. I jumped into the passenger seat, tapped the phone on speaker, and passed it to Stiles so I could throw my things in the back.

"Okay, what did you say?" he asked into the phone.

"My family's asking about Lydia again. They're worried that since she was bit, she's going to turn tonight."

"What?! But she—she was attacked weeks ago, right? Why should that—"

"She was unconscious," I groaned, fumbling with my seatbelt. "Let's be real, none of us know what's happening with Lydia. Goddamn it, I knew I should have told her this morning!"

"Well we don't have time for that now," Allison informed us. "My dad just sent out some guy dressed up as a sheriff's deputy."

"For Lydia?!" I demanded.

"Probably for Isaac," Stiles corrected. "If he's dressed as a deputy, no one's gonna look twice when he strolls into the holding cells."

"Yeah, or no one will think twice when he knocks on the door to our house!"

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. We both knew I had a point. Instead of helping, Allison piled on the bad news.

"I don't know where he was going, but he was carrying this box with something on it, like um—like a carving or something."

"What was it?" asked Stiles.

"Hold on. Hold on, it's in one of these books. I'm taking a picture."

There was a rustling sound as Allison flipped frantically through the pages, pausing when she found what she was looking for. There was a faint click, followed a few seconds later by the ping of my text alert. Stiles handed the phone back to me so I could navigate to the message, pulling up the photo that Allison sent. My heart plummeted.

There on my phone was a sketch of a familiar purple flower, petals in full bloom, poking out inf different directions from a stick straight stem. I shared an uneasy look with Stiles as the true reality of the situation sunk in.

"Guys?" Allison prompted when we were silent. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah," I groaned. "Yeah, we got it."

"Is that bad?"

"It's wolfsbane," Stiles informed her, wiping a hand down his face.

"What does that mean?"

"It means they're gonna kill him."

"Or they're gonna kill her," I said stubbornly.

"Wait, what?! What do you mean kill her?"

"Wolfsbane is poisonous to werewolves. Well, to anyone in the right dosage, but werewolves specifically. It's like the real world equivalent of the silver bullet. So if your dad is outfitting hunters with wolfsbane bullets…"

"Then they're shooting to kill," Allison finished shakily.

I chewed on my bottom lip, then vehemently shook my head. "Okay, Stiles, you need to drive me home. Now."

"What?" He blinked at me in shock. "No, what about Isaac?"

"You're gonna have to worry about Isaac on your own. I can't just let Lydia sit at home by herself when Allison's dad is on his way to put her down."

"But she's not—you said she might not be turning!"

"Yeah, might. And apparently, the Argents aren't convinced. Gerard knows, Stiles. He has to. He asked me about Lydia, and about Isaac and—"

"Wait, he asked you?" Allison asked in alarm. "Why would he do that? He doesn't know that you know."

"I'm not so sure," I countered. "You heard him at the funeral. Kate told him about me, and Kate knew that I knew. I don't know what she told him, but when I was in the principal's office, it definitely felt like I was being interrogated."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Stiles disagreed. "If he knew that you knew something, why wouldn't he say something?"

There were a few seconds of silence as the reality of that sentence settled in. If Gerard knew I was involved, he must at least suspect that all of my friends were, too. I could only think of one reason he wouldn't say anything, and it wasn't a reason I liked. Kate had known that I knew about werewolves too. She'd kept quiet because she wanted to watch me, to learn as much as she could from my behavior before she showed her cards. But there had been another reason too…

"Kinda more fun this way, isn't it?"

I shivered as her voice rang through my head, clear as it had been the night of the formal. Kate had been toying with me, and now her father was too. He wanted to see how long we could keep up the game before one of us slipped. He'd been talking in code, given me that sly smile, and watched me squirm for one reason and one reason only: it was fun.

"That's why he gave me detention," I realized with sudden clarity. "He told me I needed to stay out of trouble in the future. He knew that if I got stuck at school, I wouldn't have time to protect both of them."

"Sadie, please," Stiles begged. "We don't know if Lydia's even gonna turn, but Isaac will! Okay? And he's sitting locked up at the station with my dad—"

"And Lydia's at home with her mom and mine! If she does transform, I need to be there to stop her from hurting someone, and if she doesn't transform, I need to be there to stop someone from hurting her!"

"Sadie, I'm not gonna have time to drop you off and then go to the station. If that guy just left Allison's house, Isaac'll be dead before I even pull into the parking lot."

"Then call Scott! Call Derek! I can't leave her alone!"

"She won't be alone," Allison interrupted. "Sadie, I'll make sure she's okay."

"Ally—"

"No, it's okay. I told her I'd help her catch up on history, anyway. Go save Isaac, and if something happens, I'll call you."

I hesitated, still not loving the idea. Lydia was my responsibility. It was my fault she'd gotten attacked, so if anyone else got hurt, that would be my fault too. I trusted Allison completely, but I didn't want to push my problems on someone else.

As if Allison could read my mind, she added, "Lydia's my friend too. I'll keep an eye on her. Go make sure everyone's safe at the station."

I still wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation, but I knew she had a point. And with Stiles's pleading eyes watching me, it was hard to disagree.

"Fine," I sighed, "but the moment something happens—"

"I'll call you," she conceded. "I promise."

"Okay," Stiles said, bracingly as he could with his trembling voice. He started the engine and fidgeted in his seat. "Okay, so Allison goes to Lydia, we're going to the station, but we still don't know where the hunters are going."

"He only left a few minutes ago. I'll tail him, see if I can slow him down. When I know where he's headed, I'll let you know."

"Okay," I agreed. "And Allison, um…thank you."

"Anytime."

I disconnected the call as Stiles backed out of the parking spot. I dialed the second number, and Scott answered before we'd even made it to the main road.

"There you are! What the hell is going on?"

"Yeah, I get it, we suck. Harris kept us in detention and held our phones hostage. Where are you?"

"I'm still at Isaac's house with Derek."

"Dude, really?" Stiles asked. His face scrunched up in distaste, just as it always did when someone mentioned Derek. "Seriously? I hate that guy."

"Yes, seriously," said Scott. "And he can seriously still hear you."

Stiles coughed, scratching at the back of his neck. "…aha…right…"

"Whatever," I interrupted, waving my hand. "What are you two doing there?"

"Trying to figure out who really killed Isaac's dad."

"He didn't do it?" Stiles asked, sounding legitimately surprised.

"No, but the cops have already been here and…they're gonna pin this on him for sure…"

"Why?" I asked. "What's at the house?"

The question was met with heavy silence, so complete that I actually checked my phone to ensure that the call was still going.

"Scott, what's in Isaac's house?" I demanded.

I heard a scuffle on the other end of the line. Scott and Derek were talking in low voices, but it was nowhere near loud enough for me to make out. I clenched the phone in my hand, knuckles white.

"Scott!"

"It doesn't matter." Derek had taken the phone from Scott's hands, his voice tight. "What matters right now is getting Isaac out of the precinct before he transforms. That's our priority."

"Yeah, how about keeping him alive?" Stiles suggested bitterly.

"What? What does that mean?"

"We just spoke to Allison," I continued. "The Argents sent out someone dressed as a sheriff's deputy, equipped with wolfsbane."

There was a beat of silence, then a deafening bang on the other end of the line.

"Damnit!"

"Derek, stop!"

"No! How did they find out?"

Stiles shot me a nervous look, and I closed my eyes so I didn't have to think about his concern.

"Derek, he was arrested at school. Everyone found out."

"Oh, and in case you haven't heard," Stiles interjected, "Gerard's the new school principal."

"What?! Scott!"

"Sorry! I—I forgot!"

"It doesn't matter," I echoed, shaking my head. "What matters is that the Argents are on high alert. They've been asking questions about Isaac and Lydia, so we don't know who's first. Allison's going to my house and Stiles and I are about to head to the station."

"I'm coming with you," Derek said immediately.

"Uh, no you're not," Stiles objected.

"Yes, I am. You really thing you're gonna be able to get him out on your own?"

"Uh, okay, excuse me? I'm not really loving that tone of voice."

"Shut up!"

"Shutting up…"

I rolled my eyes as Stiles shrank back in his seat.

"Just don't go barging in," I argued. "We'll meet you a few blocks away so we can come up with a plan. Stiles and I will pick you up in the Jeep."

"No!"

"No."

"Oh, will the two of you grow up? That's what we're doing. No arguing." Instantly, they both tried to argue, and I held up a hand. "Ah! Stop!"

Stiles and Derek both fell into grumpy silence, Stiles pouting as he glared back at the road.

"Good. Scott, are you coming too?"

"He's staying here," Derek answered.

"What? No! I—I can help Allison!"

"You still can't control yourself on the full moon. We don't need to deal with you losing control on top of Isaac. I'll lock you up here, where you can't hurt anyone."

There was more silence as Derek and Scott presumably had a staring contest to see whose will would break first. Scott lost.

"Guess I'm staying here…"

"Okay. Derek, see you at the station. And Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

"Thanks, Sadie. You too."

I bit my lip and ended the call, turning to look out the window. The moon was already rising high illuminating the night in pale blue as we rocketed toward the precinct. Making a snap decision, I picked up the phone again.

"Who are you calling now?" Stiles asked with a frown.

"Sh!"

I kept the phone to my ear this time, waiting for the call to go through. I held my breath, getting more and more anxious with each ring until finally, a voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Lyd, it's me."

"Yes, Sadie, I can see that. We're in the twenty-first century, and we have caller ID. Why are you calling me?"

"No reason, I just…I was just calling to check in."

I could practically hear her eye roll.

"Seriously, the next time you try to check in with me, I'm going to take the laces out of those disgusting sacks of canvas you call shoes and use them to strangle you."

"Hey, they are Converse, and they're not disgusting," I defended. Stiles lifted a fist in agreement, and I shoved him. "Look, I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay."

"Yes, Sadie! I'm totally and perfectly fine! I think I can read about the French revolution without having a major breakdown!"

"Okay, so…no headaches or—or dizziness, or pain, or odd emotions—"

"Would you consider the desire to smack you an odd emotion?"

"For you? No, that's not an odd emotion."

I grinned, annoyed but also relieved. The full moon was already rising, and Lydia sounded normal as ever. On Scott's second full moon, he'd already given Danny a bloody nose, made out with Lydia, and screamed insults at me and Stiles by this time. I'd feel better once Allison was there to keep an eye on her, but for now, Lydia seemed to be stable.

"Where even are you?" Lydia demanded. "It's already dark out."

"Yeah, Harris kept us super late for detention, cause he's a dick."

"Wait. Are you with Stiles right now?"

"Uh, yeah. We might—"

The phone beeped in my ear as the line went dead. I frowned, looking down at my screen to see the ended call time. I glowered at the flashing numbers, biting back a sigh.

"What?" Stiles asked, glancing over at me. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I just, uh…lost the call…"

I punched in Lydia's number again, narrowing my eyes as I lifted the phone to my ear. This time, she didn't even give me a chance to speak.

"TALK TO HIM!"

She was screeching so loud, I was positive Stiles could hear her even without speakerphone. I scrambled to argue with her, but she'd already hung up on me again. I dropped my phone into my lap and hid my face in my hands, hoping beyond hope that Stiles wouldn't ask.

It was quiet for a while, nothing but the roaring engine as Stiles urged the Jeep faster down the street. Allison texted us to confirm that she had "slowed down" the hitman, whatever that meant, and that it looked like he was on his way to the station. I hated how relieved I felt by the news. I didn't want Isaac to be in danger, but if it had been Lydia…

I finally lifted my eyes to the window, abusing my bottom lip between my teeth as I tried to rein in my nerves—nerves about Stiles, nerves about Isaac, about the Argents, about Lydia—

"She's gonna be okay, you know."

I looked over at Stiles. His eyes were still fixed on the road, but he'd obviously picked up on my anxiety. I suppose that wasn't a surprise. I wasn't exactly hiding that I was a depressed, anxious mess.

"You don't know that," I sighed, leaning my head against the glass.

"Yeah, I do."

"Stiles—"

"No, I'm serious. Allison will keep an eye on her. You'll keep an eye on her, after all this is over. I know you. You're not gonna let anything happen to her."

"Yeah, well, I haven't exactly done a great job at protecting people lately…"

"Bullshit."

The curse took me by surprise, and I whipped around to stare at him. "Excuse me?"

"Bullshit," he repeated frankly. "You do everything you can for everyone that you meet, all the time. You've saved me about a hundred times, you saved Lydia at formal—"

"She only got attacked because of me," I argued, but Stiles wasn't listening.

"—you saved Scott from Kate—"

"By nearly killing her!"

"—you didn't leave Lydia's side in the hospital—"

"Except that time she ran away."

"And you found her when she did!" he snapped. "Sadie, you can't hold yourself responsible for anything bad that happens to anyone! We all make mistakes. You've made a lot less than most of us, and you work twice as hard to make up for them. You're only human, and I'd say you're pretty freaking amazing."

I stared at him, my mouth falling open. He was clearly aggravated, his jaw clenched and his hands strangling the steering wheel. I could feel the familiar heat beginning to creep up the back of my neck. I quickly averted my eyes down to my lap, wetting my lips as I tried to stop the words from playing on a loop in my head.

Pretty freaking amazing. You're amazing.

"Sorry," Stiles sighed, face screwing up in frustration. "I'm screwing this up again, uh…I just mean that you—you're doing the best you can. And I think your best is—you know, it's really incredible because you—I think that you're—"

His sentence was cut off by my phone ringing in my hands. We both jumped, and I heard Stiles curse again.

"Ah, great. That's perfect. Good."

"Sorry," I mumbled, hastily accepting the call. "Hi, uh—hello?"

"Where are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Derek, can't you just listen for the Jeep?"

"And it's Derek!" Stiles laughed bitterly. "Awesome! You know, I hate this guy so—"

"We're a couple minutes away," I told Derek, hoping to drown out Stiles's tirade. "Meet us on the main road three blocks up."

"Whatever."

Thankfully, there wasn't much time for Stiles to push the subject. I'd barely been off the phone for two minutes when we reached the corner, Derek leaning back against a stop sign. The Camaro was nowhere in sight, so I could only assume he'd run from Isaac's house. Stupid werewolves.

I twisted in my seat, ready to climb into the back, but Stiles grabbed my arm. "No. Derek's gonna sit in the back."

"He is?" I asked skeptically.

"No, he's not!" Derek called from outside the car.

Stiles grimaced, busted once more.

"It's fine, Stiles." I smirked, pulling his hand off my arm and patting him on the cheek. "Play nice."

I swung the passenger door open, then began the contortionist act that came with climbing into the backseat. I had to bend over the console to push our bags out of the way, then finally tumbled back among them. I barely had enough time to right myself when I heard Stiles squeal.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

He was gripping his shoulder, glaring reproachfully at Derek, who had already taken my place in the passenger seat. Derek slammed the door shut with a dangerous look.

"Stop."

"Stop? Stop what? I—I don't know what you're talking about."

Derek glanced at me in the backseat and then gave Stiles a pointed look. I wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but judging by the way Stiles's cheeks were quickly growing red, it was probably safer that way. I bit my lip and sank farther into the seat.

"Go," Derek instructed Stiles.

"What?"

"Drive!"

"Yes! Yes, okay! I'm driving!"

The Jeep jerked into motion, mounting the curb for a moment in Stiles's haste, then hurtled down the street.

The silence felt worse with Derek in the car. Minutes away from the station, it was impossible to ignore just how much was at stake. We were trying to save Isaac, of course, but if he got passed us…there was no telling how many casualties there would be, or who they would be.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

I glanced over at Derek in surprise. Judging by the calm look on his face, he was probably talking to me. Whenever he spoke to Stiles, he tended to look like he was physically restraining himself from extreme violence.

"About what?" I asked, making Derek raise his brow.

"I figured you'd have a few choice words about turning Isaac. He's your friend."

"You already talked to Scott?" He nodded, and I shrugged. "Then I don't have anything to say about it tonight."

"…Really?"

"Yeah, really, Derek. Right now, I want to focus on getting my friend out of this night alive. Besides, I…I get it. What you're trying to do."

"You do?" Stiles demanded incredulously.

I rolled my eyes at his disapproval, rephrasing.

"I know you're trying to help me. I know you're trying to help Isaac. I think you're being irresponsible about it, but Isaac—"

"Irresponsible?" Derek repeated in outrage, turning to glare at me. "I'm trying to—"

"To help us defeat the Argents. I know, Derek—but I really don't think you've thought this through. I don't know what you told him, and I don't care, but he's your responsibility, and now he's alone on his first full moon. If that's not irresponsible, I don't know what is." Derek opened his mouth to argue, but I threw up a hand, glaring at him with so much force that he actually shut his mouth. "No. We're not talking about this now. We're just gonna clean it up. We save Isaac."

I could see Derek grinding his teeth, as if he were trying to force his fangs to retract inside his mouth. Eventually he gave me a short nod and turned to look out the windshield again. No one spoke until we'd finally pulled into the parking lot to the station.

Stiles pulled up alongside the curb, trying to peek through the windows of the precinct. "Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected box in my father's office."

"And you just happen to have the password?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I have…come across it by means that may or may not have been less than innocent…which is not the point. The problem is gonna be getting past the front desk."

I glanced up to the station to see the officer who was presumably working the desk—a pretty woman with her dark hair pulled back, currently grabbing a cup of coffee. She might have been attractive, but she definitely gave off an air of strictness, someone who wouldn't let all three of us pass just because Stiles wanted to sit in his dad's office for a bit.

"I'll distract her," Derek said, going for the door handle.

Stiles grabbed him and jerked him back. "Woah, woah, woah, you? You're not going in there."

There was a beat of silence as Derek turned back to him, glancing between Stiles's face and the hand that was still planted on his leather-clad shoulder. Stiles followed his gaze with wide eyes and immediately released him.

"I—I'm taking my hand off."

Derek continued to glare, rolling his shoulder as if he could shake off Stiles's essence. "I was exonerated."

"You're still a person of interest," Stiles argued.

"An innocent person."

"An—you?! Yeah! Right!" Stiles laughed incredulously for a couple seconds, but Derek's face never changed. Stiles lapsed into silence, rolling his eyes. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her."

"Uh huh, how? By punching her in the face?"

Stiles bared his teeth and growled in an attempt to look menacing. Derek looked down his nose at him, looking so exasperated, so patronizing, that I actually snorted. Both boys glared at me.

"By talking to her," Derek answered, rolling his eyes.

"Okay," Stiles conceded. "Alright, gimme a sample. What are you gonna open with?"

Derek sighed, glancing out the window for a moment before staring Stiles down. I watched the altercation in amusement. They were glaring at each other, waiting for one to break, as if there was any real contest who would break the silence first; obviously, it was Stiles.

"Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

Derek considered it for a moment, then answered, "Thinking about punching you in the face."

"Okay, boys, let's everyone calm down," I intervened, leaning forward from the back seat before Stiles could snap back. "Obviously Derek's not gonna go in there and start talking about his arrest warrant or the weather. I think it's safe to say he's got a few more years of experience than we do."

"Thank you," Derek said curtly.

"You're siding with him?!" Stiles demanded, his mouth falling open. "Come on! This guy, he—he barely talks to us, let alone strangers! His conversational skills are rusty at best!"

"Stiles, he doesn't have to say anything. All Derek needs to do is go in there, smile, and dazzle the hell out of her."

"Dazz—excuse me?"

"What?" I asked innocently. "In case you haven't noticed, Derek's super hot."

Betrayed wasn't a good enough word to describe Stiles's expression. It was even beyond disgust, maybe revulsion. Derek, on the other hand, looked about ready to climb out the window, or else punch me instead.

"Please stop talking."

"Oh, come on," I teased. "I'm sure you've pulled the tall, dark, and stunningly handsome card on dozens of unsuspecting women. Don't forget, I've seen you shirtless. Those girls never stood a chance."

"Ble—agh—Sadie!" Stiles gagged, convulsing in the front seat. "God, just—you're—stop, okay?! Just stop! Let's—please let's just get this over with."

He and Derek both leapt from the car, leaving me to clamber over the seat by myself. Apparently, they were both too annoyed with me to lend a hand. I caught up with them outside the entrance to the precinct.

"You ready?" Stiles asked Derek.

"Shut up."

"No, hold on."

I stepped in front of Derek, reaching out to tug down the edge of his olive green T-shirt. Stiles made another choking sound.

"Wha—what?! What are you doing?!"

I hushed him and returned to scrutinizing Derek's appearance. I straightened his leather jacket, then messed up the collar in a way that looked a little more cavalier. I reached up to do the same to his hair, then grabbed his jaw and turned his head back and forth, looking for anything else that might need to be fixed. All I found was his heavy eyebrows sinking dangerously low, his eyes turning into slits as he glared down on me.

"Stop. Touching me."

I grinned, patting his cheek and stepping back. "Go get her, tiger."

Derek brandished a finger at me, but there wasn't enough time to truly retaliate. He rolled his shoulders a bit before walking through the glass doors. Stiles and I followed, but stopped in the entrance way until we could be sure the desk attendant was distracted. I heard her walk into the room, her voice almost bored. At first.

"Good evening, how can I help…you…?"

She certainly sounded dazzled. I snickered, chancing my first glance around the door and into the room.

The female deputy was standing behind the counter, all of her attention fixed on Derek. He looked the least like himself that I'd ever seen him look, except maybe at Lydia's house the first night I'd met him. He leaned casually on the counter, a wide, flirtatious smile on his face as he let his eyes travel over her body.

"Hi."

"…hi…"

I bit my lip to hold in the manic giggles that were threatening to burst my lungs. I would've been content to stay and watch the rest of the show, but Stiles grabbed my bicep and dragged me after him along the wall. We snuck along the edge of the room, barely daring to breathe, but it was clear that Derek was holding the woman's complete and undivided attention.

"Uh, I had a question," Derek said, using the same charming voice he'd used on Allison. "Uh…sorry, I'm a little—little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone…"

"Like…me?"

"Oh, I was gonna say 'so incredibly beautiful,' but yeah. I guess that'd be the same thing."

My mouth fell open in a silent laugh as Stiles and I ducked safely into the hallway. I nearly doubled over in laughter, too far gone to care that I was audibly wheezing. Stiles sent me a scathing look.

"Seriously? Pull yourself together. He's just flirting with her. And it's—it's not even real. It's not even good."

"Oh, come on," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "You gotta admit, he's smooth."

"That's not impressive," he grumbled. "I…I could be smooth…"

I smirked, trying to ignore the way my stomach tumbled at the thought. "Yeah? I wouldn't mind seeing that."

Stiles shot me a nervous, wide-eyed look and cleared his throat.

"Um…m-my dad's office is over here. Come on."

He started down the hallway, grabbing my arm again. This time, his slid his hand down to mine, lacing our fingers together as he led the way to the sheriff's office. I bit my lip, but didn't comment. Smooth.