By nightfall, the novelty of radio silence had worn off.

I'd gotten steadily more anxious over the course of the school day. Allison nearly lost it when I told her Derek had his sights set on another beta, just twenty-four hours after his last. I didn't blame her. With Derek filling the ranks and Gerard abandoning the code, each day we got through alive was another miracle. Allison had agreed to keep an eye out for Boyd, but neither of us were very hopeful.

Boyd didn't return to school. Scott didn't return to school. Stiles didn't return to school. And it was clear by the end of the day that Erica had vanished too.

I'd urged Lydia to drive home as fast as possible. The moment we were in the house, I grabbed the van keys and went right back out. I sped to the railcar, but it was another far-flung hope. If there was any chance of saving Boyd, Derek would never keep him in a place I could find.

The railcar was just was empty as the road leading up to it. The only thing that had changed since the last time I'd stopped by was the blankets that were laid out into small beds. That, and the bags of bras and bodices and makeup that were sitting inside for Erica. At least I wouldn't have to go shopping for her. I didn't know if I'd be able to stomach that.

I stayed there as long as I could, praying they might come back. Even if Boyd had already been turned, I was sure it'd be therapeutic to scream at Derek for a little while, but Derek was too smart for that too. Eventually the sun started to go down, and my phone began lighting up with texts from my mother, asking when I was coming home. If I wanted to avoid being grounded, I knew I'd have to wait for news from the comfort of my bedroom.

Mom was in the kitchen when I got home, stirring her drink and flipping through a puzzle book. She jumped when I slammed the front door closed behind me.

"Oh! Gosh, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"What?" I looked at her with wide eyes and glanced back at the door. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, um…wind caught the door."

"I see." She hummed skeptically, narrowing her eyes at me. "And where have you been today, my little delinquent? Detention? Committing misdemeanors? Graduating to federal crimes?"

"Actually, I was…at a…student council meeting. Yeah, there's a…car wash for the swim team next week."

"Aw, really?" She beamed, so happy for me that I actually felt worse. "Sadie, that's great. I'm really glad to see you getting back into extracurriculars. You always did so much back at home and—and I figured you just needed an adjustment period, but I'll admit, I was getting a little worried."

"Yeah," I said with a pained smile. "I mean, it's just something small, but…"

"Wait, student council?" Mom paused, checking the time on the microwave and frowning again. "You can't have been at the school this whole time. Where did you take the van?"

"Right! Well, I—I was at the meeting, and then I came home, and then I realized I had to…bring Stiles back his sweatshirt—you know, since I had like two or three of his—so I went over there to give them back, but he wasn't home because he had a long practice so, now I'm…back…"

It earned me another skeptical hum, and I screwed my face up in frustration. I used to be a really decent liar. Spending time with Scott and Stiles was seriously starting to affect me.

"Sweetie, you don't have to lie to me," my mom said, walking around the counter to wrap an arm around my shoulders. "I've had boyfriends, too."

"What do you mean? I'm not—"

"Sadie, if you want to go over your boyfriend's house to make out, you don't have to come up with excuses. I mean, I get if you don't want to go into detail, but—"

"No! Mom, no! I wasn't—we weren't—"

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back as she squeezed my shoulders. "You sound so scandalized! 'Mom, of course I wasn't kissing my boyfriend! Why would you ever suggest such a thing?!"

"Ha, right. Sorry, I just…I'm actually trying to get a hold of him."

I weighed my phone in my hands. Not only had Scott and Stiles never returned to school, but neither one of them was returning my texts. I didn't want to imagine how both of them had landed themselves in trouble, but if one of them had run into Derek and the other into Gerard…

"Uh oh," Mom said with a smirk. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No, no. I just…I just wanna see him."

"Aw, honey. I get it. The early days are always the hardest, but I promise you, Stiles isn't going anywhere. You said yourself, he's busy at lacrosse practice. I'm sure he'll text you back when he has the time." I forced myself to nod solemnly, and she patted my hand. "Now, why don't you just head up to your room and start on that homework? Schoolwork's got a due date, but you and Stiles do not. Hopefully."

I rolled my eyes and quickly escaped her laughter by doing as I was told. I fled to my room, laid my homework out on the desk, and turned back to my phone. I sent one text to Scott, one to Stiles, and one to Derek. Then I rested my phone on the corner of my desk, where I'd be able to see it the moment the screen lit up, and did my best to get some work done.

I fell into my old tried and true method of stress working. I'd finish one subject, bombard everyone with angry texts, and then move onto the next subject. I was having flashbacks to months earlier, waiting for Stiles and Scott to text me, the day that Derek had been shot with wolfsbane and Stiles had "taken him to the hospital." It was another time I'd been left to wonder which was worse: knowing nothing or knowing everything?

My phone lit up, and I sent my Econ textbook tumbling to the floor in my haste to answer the call.

"Hello?! Scott? Stiles? Are you okay? What happened? Hello?!"

"Try again."

I growled, glaring at the carpet. "Derek, what did you do?"

"I did exactly what I told you I was going to do. I built a pack."

"Right. Out of unsuspecting teenagers who can't possibly wrap their heads around the reality of the situation."

"I'll take what I can get."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and slouching forward in my seat. "So you got Boyd then?"

"Yes."

"And he's—"

"He's fine, Sadie. And you don't need to go on a shopping spree. We have enough to get by, and we're headed back to the railcar now."

"Headed back from…?"

There was a small pause that didn't escape my notice, a hesitation that had me preparing for the worst. But if Derek was nervous about my reaction, he didn't show it when he spoke.

"Well, Boyd still had to go to work."

My heart sank, and I was growling the words before I really thought about it. "What the hell did you do to Scott?"

"I just reminded him that he can't stop me. None of you can. He'll be fine."

"And what about Stiles, huh? I'm sure he'll be just dandy too!"

"What do you mean 'Stiles'?"

"Don't bullshit me, Derek! He went to look for Boyd, and now he's not picking up his phone! What the fuck did you do to him?!"

There was another pause. I heard the rustle as Derek attempted to cover the phone with his hand, but he wasn't good at controlling himself when he was angry, and I didn't need to be a werewolf to hear what was happening on the other end.

"Erica, what the hell did you do? …I said hold him off, not knock him out! What part of 'do not touch him' did you not understand?!"

If was as if someone was changing the hue of the paint on my walls. Cool purple turned to magenta, then scarlet as my eyes saw red. My hands were shaking as I clutched at the phone.

I heard Derek sigh as he returned to the call. "He'll be fine…soon."

It actually took me a few seconds to respond, since I had to go through the laborious process of unclenching my jaw, breathing, and then trying to form words. But finally, I got it out.

"Tell your bitchy little wildcat that she can back the fuck off my friends. I don't care what you have to say about it. Your pack hurts someone again, I shoot. I don't need claws to fight back."

Before he could say anything else, I forced myself to end the call. I dialed Stiles's number again and began to pace the length of my room. The ringing seemed to go on endlessly. With each step, I had to remind myself that she'd knocked him out, not killed him. Unless she'd thought she knocked him out, didn't realize her own strength, and killed him on accident. If she killed him, I was going to kill her. I wouldn't feel guilty this time, either. If I got my hands on Erica—

"Ugh. Hello…?"

"Stiles!" I had to slap a hand over my mouth as I nearly screamed, and he groaned on the other end.

"Ow! Fuck…"

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, no, stupid question. What the hell happened?"

"Erica. She broke my car and then punched me with it. Bitch…"

My free hand clenched into a fist at my side. I actually clawed at the air in an effort to stop myself from screaming. I pressed the hand to my head instead, taking a shaky breath.

"Okay, okay. Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"Hold on." Stiles groaned, moving around on the other end. He grumbled a few curses, and a minute later, continued, "Nah, I can't leave the Jeep here. Just, uh…can you meet me at the mechanic?"

"Yeah, of course. Hang on, I'll be right—"

"Wait, wait! Boyd?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, biting back a sigh. I'd been hoping to break that bad news in person, but it was no surprise Stiles wanted answers now. With his bruised face and damaged care, I didn't want to give him any more bad news.

"No, uh…Derek got to him first. He says he's fine."

"Damnit…"

"Hey," I said softly. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

"Yeah, right…"

"I mean it, Stiles. Just call the tow truck, and I'll be there as soon as I can. Promise, Stilinski."

"Yeah, okay," he said again, but this time, I could hear the weak smile in his voice. "See ya, Bennet."

I ended the call, tapping the phone against my chin for a few seconds. I willed myself to believe that, that we were going to figure this all out. For now, I had to believe that, if only for Stiles.

Mom must've heard my pounding footfalls as I sprinted down the stairs, because she was already looking up expectantly when I slid into the room.

"Ah, I know that urgent face. You hear from Stiles?"

"Yeah. Some…jerk messed up his car. He has to take it to the mechanic."

"Seriously?" She gasped, and threw her book aside. "God, you know, I—I love you, but I hate people. Is Stiles okay?"

"I think so, I just—I need to go check on him, so I'm gonna take the car, okay?"

"Woah, woah, woah," she interrupted before I could run out of the room. "Honey, I know you're worried, but it's Friday. I've got therapy tonight. You know I need the car."

"Mom! Please, I—I really need to see him!"

"Sadie, I know how much you want to hang out with him, but—"

"No, Mom! Look, he might be—this is just really important, okay? Please?"

She considered me for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight line. Finally she relented, getting to her feet even as she shook her head at me.

"Fine. I can drop you off before I head out, but we need to leave in the five minutes, otherwise I'm gonna be late for my appointment."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—"

I ran forward to plant a kiss on her cheek, then dashed back upstairs to grab my things. I shrugged on a jacket—the first sweatshirt that Stiles had loaned me—then slid my purse onto my shoulder. I was halfway out of my room when my phone rang again. I skidded to a stop to answer the call.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"You tell me," Allison replied. "Did Derek get Boyd?"

"Uh, yeah. I just found out a minute ago. I finally got ahold of Derek and—"

"Is everyone okay?"

"I think so. Well, no, um…I just spoke to Stiles, and apparently Erica knocked him out and screwed up the Jeep. Derek said he and the others are okay, but I think he fought with Scott, and I haven't heard from him yet."

"Sadie, you need to find him."

"Why?" I asked, hearing the desperation in her voice. "Ally, what happened?"

"My dad just left with Gerard and some others."

"God, this shit again? Like—like when they went looking for Lydia?"

"No, no, there's less cars this time. Just two SUVs. I don't know where they're going, but it's definitely work related. And I can't get past my mom this time."

"Shit," I cursed, pressing the heel of my hand against my eyes. "I hate not having my own car! Okay, um…my mom's taking me to meet up with Stiles. I'll call Scott, and if I haven't heard from him by the time the Jeep's fixed, Stiles and I will go find him. I'll let you know the moment I hear something."

"Thanks, Sadie. I just…if he found out—"

"It's not good for any of us, I know. I'll call you, Allison."

"Okay. And be careful."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me, and ended the call again. My chest was starting to feel tight again, like I was packed so full of worries that there wasn't room to breathe. The Argents could be on the move for any number of reasons, but I didn't like to think of any of them. They could have found out about Boyd, and were on their way to kill him. Gerard might've put the pieces together about Scott. Maybe Mr. Argent had finally revealed what I'd done to Kate. And Stiles was out on the side of the road somewhere, stranded and alone…

I huffed, running to my closet and sifting through everything on the bottom. From underneath the mess, in the far back corner, I unearthed a small black bag. My hands shook even holding it, but it was better safe than sorry. If the Argents were on the hunt, we needed to be prepared.

I bounced my knee anxiously the entire car ride to the mechanic. Mom kept shooting me worried looks, but she didn't press, which I was grateful for. I probably looked like Stiles had ended up in the ER instead of an autobody shop, but I didn't have enough mental bandwidth to come up with an excuse for my behavior.

The van had hardly stopped when I leapt out of the passenger seat and hit the ground running. I sprinted through one of the open garage doors, head whipping back and forth as I looked for any sign of a buzzcut or red hoodie. Instead of Stiles, though, I ran straight into a very tall, solid body.

"Woah, there. Can I help you, miss?"

I stumbled back, staring bewildered at the mechanic—stereotypically rugged, dirty white tank top with grease smears on his face, gold hair pushed back entirely too precariously to be allowed. I was halfway through stammering an apology before I recognized the car lofted over us.

"Uh, yeah! I'm actually looking for the owner of the blue Jeep, please."

"Seriously? This piece of crap?" The guy gave a disparaging look to the car, and turned back to me with a smirk. "The kid ran out back. Now is there something I can do to help you?"

I folded my arms protectively over my chest. "Yeah. You can fix my boyfriend's car so we can leave."

I turned on my heel, marching out the way I'd come and ignoring the "ma'am yes ma'am" he called from behind me. I stomped into the parking lot, but stopped short when I spotted the familiar figure already standing next to the van.

"Stiles!"

I raced forward, springing myself at him as if I hadn't seen him for days instead of a few hours. He let out a quiet oof, but quickly wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into a reassuring hug. I pressed my face into his hoodie and my mom laughed behind us.

"Geez, Sadie, let the poor boy breathe. The Jeep got damaged, not him."

I held my tongue, pulling back from Stiles just so I could grab his face and inspect it. His hands wrapped loosely around my wrists, but he made no move to push me away.

"Are you sure you're okay, Stiles?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Is the Jeep okay?" Mom asked, unable to fight off the amusement in her voice.

"Hm?" Stiles tore his eyes away from me to look at her. When he noticed her smirk, he hastily knocked my hands away from his face. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, he's fine. There's just a part missing. Should be a quick fix."

"Well, with these small town mechanics, you never know. One problem turns into twenty, and all of a sudden you're selling your organs on the black market because the stupid seatbelt light won't stop flashing."

"Mom…"

"Right. Anyway, I'm gonna head out. If there's any more trouble with the car just let me know. I can come pick you guys up in about two hours."

"Thanks, Mrs. Bennet."

"Not a problem, Stiles. Sadie, remember what we talked about. The place may be pretty empty, but it's still a public area, so keep the PDA to a minimum in case any—"

"Mom!"

"Alright! Fine! I'm gone! Goodbye."

I buried my head in Stiles's shoulder again, ignoring my mother as she climbed back into the van and honked the horn in farewell. I could feel Stiles's chest jolting beneath me as he chuckled, and I poked him none too gently in the ribs in retaliation. He groaned, and I quickly stepped back.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry. Seriously, are you sure you're okay?"

"No, really, I'm good," he grimaced. "Erica definitely knows how to pack a punch."

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill her…"

"Alright, well, hot as that would be, let's not do Gerard's job for him."

The reality of the situation hit me again. I chewed on my bottom lip, twisting the strap of my purse.

"Yeah, about that. Have you heard from Scott?"

"No, uh—I tried to call him after I got off the phone with you, but I still haven't been able to get ahold of him. Why? Is he okay?"

"I don't know. I know he fought Derek, so he might be healing or—"

"Whoa, wait, Derek hurt him?"

"I don't know," I repeated sheepishly. "Derek said he'd be fine, but—"

"Right," Stiles scoffed, "because I'm real inclined to believe the psycho biting teenagers left and right."

"Look, that's not the point," I argued. "If Derek hurt Scott, he'll live, but Allison says that the Argents are running another work errand. She doesn't know where they're going."

Stiles cursed again. "And she thinks they're after Scott?"

"Scott, Boyd, Derek—they could be after any one of them."

"Yeah, or you." Stiles scrutinized the empty parking lot and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

"Stiles, it's fine. They're not gonna find me when—"

"Walk, Bennet."

I rolled my eyes, but let him steer me back into the building like a bodyguard. I wasn't going to complain when he had me tucked against his side the way he did. Or at least, I hadn't planned to complain, until the breeze picked up. I wrinkled my nose, looking up at him in confusion.

"Why do you smell…like that?"

"Aha, right…" He loosened his grip on me, pushing me in front of him instead. "Well, Erica couldn't leave me unconscious on Boyd's stoop. So after she was done manhandling me, she carried me a few blocks over and tossed me into a dumpster."

"Manhandling?" I repeated through narrow eyes, and he choked.

"No! She didn't—I mean I was knocked out, but—no! God, no, she didn't—we—I promise, I did not even look at her."

I rolled my eyes, but let him off the hook for now. I was less worried about what Stiles had done or looked at than I was about what Erica had been trying to do. Stiles's nervousness was a pretty good indicator that she'd at least been flirting with him, or shoving her boobs in his face the way she'd been doing with every other guy at school. That bothered me, but seeing as she'd ended the interaction by punching him in the face, I didn't think she'd be winning any points this time around.

I didn't even notice how bad the injury was until we got inside. I sent a few unanswered texts to Scott, warning him to keep a low profile and call me back, while Stiles tugged me down a hallway away from the main bay, grumbling something about how he hadn't eaten since lunch. We found a vending machine, which he attacked with his usual careful finesse, and in the fluorescent light, I finally caught sight of the bruise blossoming on the side of his face.

"Oh my God, Stiles!" I eased him away from the snacks, turning his face toward me so I could get a better look. I ghosted my fingers over the scraped skin. "Ouch. Is that where she hit you?"

"Ah, yeah," he confirmed with a hiss. "Werewolf strength isn't something to be messed with. Especially when they punch you with a starter instead of their fist."

I pursed my lips, watching him for a moment before I moved my hands to his shoulders. Ever so carefully, I leaned up and brushed my lips over his temple. He didn't flinch away, but I did feel his shoulders tense. I quickly pulled away and took a step back.

"There you go. Better?"

"Eh," he offered with a shrug. He continued to look at me, his cheeks turning pink, the dollar he'd already fed into the machine long forgotten. "You know, I think, uh…she punched me in the mouth, too."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was a little bit unconscious, but my lips feel a little weird."

"Hm, well that is a problem…" I sidled closer to him, impressed by the way he managed to keep a straight face. I brushed my lips against his this time, but pulled back with a thoughtful frown. "I don't know, they seem fine to me."

"W-Well, that wasn't very thorough. I think you should check again."

My face split into a grin as I pulled him back to me.

For an injured party, Stiles was certainly enthusiastic. He slipped his hands up under the hoodie I was wearing, grabbing my hips and steering me around. I felt my back bump into the glass of the vending machine, but my giggle was lost in the kiss. I had to push his chest to get words out between kisses.

"Stiles—ha—Stiles, you—are you—getting your—chips?"

"What—what are you—crap!"

He shoved me out of the way and jumped for the machine before it could eat his money for good. I was too busy laughing at him to be offended.

Stiles managed to retrieve his Doritos, but he was only one or two chips into the bag before we were interrupted again. There was a loud whirring sound from the garage, even louder than the rest of the work that was being done. I didn't think anything of it, but something about the sound made Stiles freeze in horror. He gaped at the other end of the corridor. Before I could ask what was wrong, he shoved the chips into my hand and took off down the hall.

"No, no, no, no, no—"

"Stiles?"

I hurried after him, pulling my purse back onto my shoulder as we burst into the workshop. Stiles made a beeline for the Jeep, where the mechanic was still working. Whatever the guy was doing, it sent a shower of sparks down to the floor; that didn't look good.

"Hey!" Stiles shouted as he ran up. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? All I needed was a starter!"

The mechanic didn't blink an eye. He just kept drilling away at the undercarriage of the Jeep as if he hadn't heard Stiles at all, which was bull. The drill wasn't that loud.

"Hello?!" Stiles shouted. "Anyone home?!"

"Ahem." I nudged Stiles out of the way, giving the man a pointed look. "Excuse me! Mind telling us what you're working on there?"

"Exhaust system. Looks like the whole thing's gotta be replaced."

Stiles bristled at my side, glaring at the man's flexing arms.

"Why do I get the feeling you're slightly over-estimating the damage?" he grumbled.

The mechanic paused in his drilling to shrug. "It's probably gonna run you like, twelve hundred parts and labor."

"A-are you kidding?! This thing doesn't even have a catalytic converter! And yes, I know what a catalytic converter is!"

"You know what a limited-slip differential is?"

"…No…"

"Yeah. I'll take a look, but it could run you more like fifteen hundred. If I get lucky."

He returned to his work, but not without shooting me a salacious wink that made my skin crawl. Stiles's jaw dropped and he quickly began tugging me in the opposite direction, planting himself between me and the mechanic like he could use his body to physically shield me from the sexual harassment.

"Woah! Okay! You just—just finish!" Stiles glowered at the guy's back, which had absolutely no effect, then tucked me under his arm and ushered me away. "God, I hate these skeevy places with their skeevy dudes and their skeevy prices. I mean, fifteen hundred?! You believe that?!"

"I actually have no concept of how expensive that is," I informed him. "I don't have a car, so I've got no clue what upkeep like that usually runs."

"Well, trust me, it's not that much. Limited-slip differential. Please."

"If it makes you feel better, I don't know what that is either. I don't even know what a catalytic converter is."

"Cleans the exhaust gas," he explained sullenly. "It's not that impressive."

"Hey, don't do that." I ducked out from under his arm so I could stand in front of him and stop him again with my hands on his chest. "Don't sell yourself short. I don't know what any of this crap is, and it's cool that you do. I think it's very impressive. You are impressive."

I grabbed the edges of his sweatshirt, tugging him forward so I could kiss his flushed cheek. He looked positively dumbstruck, which only made me giggle again. The sound snapped him out of it and, with a playful smirk, he grabbed my hands and began herding me backwards toward the waiting room.

"Well, what if I told you that catalytic converters are used in internal combustion engines?"

"Mm, well now I'm super impressed."

"What about if I said the close-coupled catalytic converter is near the exhaust manifold?"

"Careful there. Otherwise I might break the rule about limited PDA."

"I don't like that rule," he groaned, making me laugh. He reached behind my back to open the door for me, only to recoil in disgust; his hand was covered in clear slime. "Ugh, nice. That's real sanitary—quality establishment you're running here!"

I frowned as he shook the residue off his hand. "Here, do you want me to…?"

"Nah, I got it. Here."

Stiles screwed his face up and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in first. He slammed it closed behind us and wiped his hand off on his sweatshirt. He looked around the room in displeasure, glaring at the air fresheners and brake fluid and the like, but paused when he caught sight of something on the wall.

"Ugh. Figures."

I walked up behind him, resting my head on his shoulder so I could follow his gaze. Framed on the wall was a picture of the mechanic, probably only a few years old. I chuckled when I recognized the Cyclones lacrosse uniform. Apparently, lacrosse had always been the sport in Beacon Hills.

"Please," Stiles scoffed when he heard my laughter. "Like that guy isn't the spitting image of Jackson."

"Oh, come on. Not all lacrosse boys are bad."

"Most of them are!"

"Stiles, you are a lacrosse boy."

"Not really. I think you need to actually play on the team to be a lacrosse boy."

"Hey, I don't appreciate you saying that about my lacrosse boy," I said with a glare, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.

"Your…? Ahem, right, your…sorry…" I squeezed him again to signal my forgiveness, and felt him sink back against me. He fumbled around my arms to slip his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna te…text Scott…"

I nodded into the back of his sweatshirt. For a while, I just enjoyed the feeling of being able to hug him, but after a few seconds, I realized that he wasn't moving. I couldn't even feel his muscles working as his thumbs typed out a message. I lifted my head, but Stiles was standing stock still, staring down at the empty text box in horror.

"Stiles?"

"I…I can't…"

The phone slipped through his hands and clattered to the ground. I immediately released him, rushing around to face him as he stared down at his hands, twitching and trembling in front of him.

"Stiles, what—what's wrong?"

"I…can't move," he managed. "S-Sadie—"

"Hey, hey! I'm here."

But my voice was three octaves too high out of sheer panic. Whatever was wrong with Stiles's hands was spreading. He tucked his elbows into his sides as his arms seized up, then his torso, then his legs. I grabbed at him frantically, trying to find the source of the problem, trying to find some way to help, or at least trying to keep him standing. His whole body was beginning to spasm from the effort of staying upright.

"S-Sadie—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Stiles. It's okay! You're—"

"No! Lo—look!"

I followed his panicked gaze over my shoulder, and stopped dead.

The waiting room had a large window into the workshop. Outside, a large black pickup truck was lofted into the air, the blue Jeep just beyond it. The mechanic was still working away underneath, sending sparks around as he created and fixed new problems. It all looked normal—until I saw the shadow on top of the Jeep. A long, dark arm reached out from inside, talons splayed wide over the door. I could clearly make out the claws, even from this far away, several inches long, white, and lethal.

Whatever had attacked Scott on the full moon was back.

"Shit…"

I leapt for my bag, rummaging around in a frenzied haze. Stiles tried calling out from behind me, but whatever was paralyzing him seemed to be having a similar effect on his vocal chords. He could only manage an indistinct noise before there was a loud thump. I whirled around again; Stiles's legs had finally given out, and he was spasming on the floor.

"Stiles!"

I fell to my knees beside him, but again, there was nothing I could do. I held his hand in an attempt to calm him down, but he pulled himself loose, his eyes beyond me. "N-no, m…m…my f…"

I looked around the floor, finally spotting his phone lying a few feet away. I snatched it up and even my hands were shaking as I tried to dial the right numbers. My first call was Scott, but again, it went straight to voicemail. I cursed, then called Derek. Seeing as I was using Stiles's phone, that didn't get me an answer either, but there wasn't time…

The drill was still whizzing out in the garage; the mechanic, still hard at work, oblivious to what was happening above him. I stared down at Stiles in confliction. I didn't want to leave him, but I couldn't just sit here. Not with Stiles paralyzed and someone else about to be murdered in front of me—like the janitor, like Peter, like Kate…

"No," Stiles choked out, with as much conviction as he could manage in his current state. "S-Sadie, d—don't—"

"I'm sorry."

I tossed the phone down next to him and seized my purse. I finally managed to pull out the small black bag I'd stuffed inside, and from that, I pulled the Glock I'd kept the night of the formal. I checked the magazine, clicked the safety off, and gave Stiles one more apologetic look before darting for the door.

"Hey! Hey!"

I called out for the mechanic as I moved across garage, scanning the ceiling and perimeter of the room for any sign of the creature. I didn't see the talons anymore, but there was also no sign of the mechanic. The drilling had stopped, and I didn't see his blond hair or dirty tank top anywhere. I made it all the way to the Jeep before I realized why.

"Help…h-help me…"

The man was wheezing, sprawled on his back on the floor. His skin was slick with sweat, his eyes wide with terror. He didn't seem to be able to move, paralyzed, just like Stiles.

"Shit," I hissed. "Okay. Okay, um…"

I grabbed his arm, trying to tug him across the floor. If I could get his body over to a corner, even just the wall, I might be able to defend us with the gun. But aside from being pretentious, his muscly arms and torso made him far too heavy for me to drag with one hand. If I really wanted to move him, I was going to have to drop the gun.

Before I could even start that mental debate, there was a screeching sound above me. I screamed and ducked on instinct, stumbling back. I looked up, but the creature was just a blur of shadow, already gone by the time I looked up. My hands tightened on the gun as I struggled to focus. Okay, so putting the gun down was not an option. Maybe I could kick the man into position, roll him along with my feet. He'd bruise, but if we survived it wouldn't really matter—

There was another hiss, different this time. It almost sounded like…

"Air?"

I looked around in search of the source. I didn't know much about mechanics, but it didn't take long for me to realize what the sound had been. Above my head, the platform holding the Jeep aloft began to sink. I scrambled back, frantically looking between the mechanic, paralyzed on the cold ground, and the bottom of the rig, embellished with a jagged edge that suddenly looked perfect for impaling someone.

I moved toward the mechanic again, but only made it a few step. The creature screeched again, closer this time, and I screamed and jumped back.

"N-no…" the man gasped. "Please…h-help me…"

I could feel myself getting lightheaded. I needed to do something. I needed to move, to help him, but if I took another step forward, I was either going to get gutted or paralyzed. Whether it was talons or machinery, something was going to kill me. Everything around my was swimming, and I was lucky the gun didn't fall from my hands the way I was shaking.

"What do I…? I…I have to…"

I stared up at the Jeep, heart pounding as the car sank lower and lower. Then man was twitching as he tried to crawl to the side without my help, but he couldn't manage even an inch. For one reason or another, the paralytic seemed to be having more of an effect on him than it'd had on Stiles.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

I wasn't going to be able to move him. That meant I had to stop the Jeep. I had no idea how to stop the Jeep. It was sinking faster, the small hiss of air pushing through my thoughts.

"It's pressurized!" My eyes shot open, and I took half a step toward the mechanic before I remembered to stop myself. "Okay, um, pressure controls? Where?"

The man could no longer speak, but his eyes flicked toward the wall, and a direction was all I needed. I sprinted to the side, eyes scanning the wall for a control panel. I held my breath, trying to follow the sound of the hissing as fast as I could. I took off to my right, gun pointed low as I dashed toward the sound. It didn't occur to me that it could be coming from anything but the machinery.

I found the control panel and leapt for it, but stopped myself just in time. It was covered with the same clear goo that Stiles had found on the door handle. I had no way of knowing for sure, but I was willing to bet that touching it would not be a good idea. I eyed the wires, following them up, up to the ceiling, finally finding the source of the problem. One of the pumps had been slashed open, now twisting and twirling madly in the air, flecks of goo flying around as it thrashed. I hurried back to avoid it.

"That's okay. That's okay. I can do that. Because if the main equipment breaks, you use the emergency stop. Emergency stop…"

I turned on the spot, finally locating the big warning box on the wall that shut down the workshop's power. I rushed over and yanked on the cover, but it was stuck firmly in place. I could hear the metal grinding as the Jeep continued its descent. I was running out of time.

Throwing caution to the winds, I dropped the gun. I yanked on the cover with both hands, putting my whole weight into it, but the plastic wouldn't budge.

"Oh, come on!" I screamed. "This—this is such a safety hazard!"

I gave up and looked around the room, looking for something, anything that I could use instead. My eyes landed on a large sledgehammer propped against the wall.

"That'll work," I breathed.

It was heavy, much heavier than I'd hoped. It took all my strength to hoist it onto my shoulder and pull it across the room. I heaved it up and over, taking a swing at the box, but the plastic barely cracked and I was certain I'd pulled something in my arm. I let out a strangled scream of frustration and lined up to take another shot. Whether it was the rage or the adrenaline, the second hit got more results. By the third hit, the plastic cracked and shattered to the ground.

My cheer of success caught in my throat. I threw the hammer to the ground, sprang forward, and slammed my hand down on the big red button.

Nothing happened.

My head snapped back and forth, ready for the lights to go out, or at least for the goddamn hissing to stop. But it didn't I slammed my hand down again and again, listening to the click as it moved, but the Jeep was still falling, far closer to the ground than before.

There was a screech from the rafters, and I looked up to find the second problem. Far above me, higher than I could ever hope to reach, were the wires that connected the emergency stop to the main power source. And when the creature had sliced the air supply, it had clearly been smart enough to stop me from retaliating in any way.

My heart launched into my throat, and I choked on it as a sickening crunch ripped through the air. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I collapsed against the wall, fighting the vomit that was surging up inside me. The sound echoed in my head, looping with the unearthly screech that was bouncing off the garage walls. The man was dead, and if I didn't do something, I was going to be next.

"I think you need to rethink that statement, sweetheart."

The voice didn't even surprise me anymore. It urged me a little closer to losing the contents of my stomach, but I didn't jump. The tears just fell faster from my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

The creature let out another screech, but it wasn't getting closer to me. It was farther away, scuttling toward the other end of the room…

"Stiles!"

I ran, scooping up the gun and hurdling over discarded tools and wires. I rounded the corner of the black pickup truck just as the creature raised a lethal claw toward the door of the waiting room.

"HEY!"

My first thought upon seeing the creature in full was simple: Lizard.

My second thought was equally simple, though maybe not as eloquent: Fuck.

The creature before me had a long, powerful body, strong muscles clearly wound up to spring at a moment's notice. Its skin was sleek and scaly, covering every inch of its body, arms, legs, and the long tail that was curled at its back, flicking menacingly in the dark. I'd already gotten a look at its claws, but they were even more terrifying up close—long and solid, honed to a perfect point on each of its digits. I'd seen the damage they could do on high-grade mechanical equipment, and to be honest, I had no desire to find out how well they worked on flesh.

But however terrifying all those things were, nothing was worse than its face. Because it did have a face, rounded and strikingly human, with two, bright yellow eyes that glared at me in the dark. They weren't golden, not the soft, glowing irises that I'd grown accustomed to. There was no comforting shine like there was with Scott, even the fire I'd seen in Isaac's eyes at the police station. No. This was just a sickening, ugly yellow, almost acidic, encompassing the entire eye with a deadly black slit for a pupil.

Its eyes flicked back and forth over my face, and its lips pulled back to reveal rows upon rows of sharp black teeth, dripping with spittle and venom. My gun rose and leveled on instinct.

"Yeesh. That's one son of a bitch you've gotta kill with a headshot."

My hand twitched on the gun. She was right, and I knew it. I had just listened to a man being crushed to death because this creature was smart enough to slit some wires. There was no telling what it was going to do to me, what it was going to do to Stiles.

"Oh, come on. You're not still worried about the whole 'monsters are people too' thing, are you?"

The creature and I stared at each other. My hands trembled; I couldn't get the barrel to point straight.

"Sadie, that's my gun you're holding. Its killed plenty of shifters. Hey, it's killed some people too. Don't be afraid of the gun. Just let it do all the work for you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to squeeze the trigger. My nerves were clouding my mind, blocking the order somewhere between my brain and my hands.

"If you don't kill it now, this thing is going to go kill more people, and their deaths are gonna be on you. You just can't win, can you? You shoot, you're a murderer. You don't shoot, you're still a murderer. Either way, Sadie, you're just like me."

"STOP!"

The creature screeched again and pounced. There was a whoosh of air and a shock of pain, and the whole world went black.

A/N: I think we're past the point of apologizing, ya know? I think I mentioned a few ANs ago that I got a new job; needless to say, I really threw myself into it. I'm going to try and focus on updating weekly again, both for all of you and for me. I'll do what I can, but if I go dark for a while, know that I plan on leaving no story behind. Thank you all for even making it this far if you clicked or got a notification.

A few people have messaged me asking I make the switch from to AO3. I've always felt that wasn't exactly the place for OC fics, but with this website's recent updates, I'm not so sue anymore. Please lmk if that's a site you use, if you'd like the switch, or prefer to stay here. I won't make any promises, but I really value your opinions.

-Brittney