It was both a blessing and a curse that the Beacon Hills Cyclones were one of the best lacrosse teams in the state. They'd won three championships in a row, which gave the town a little claim to fame—beyond gruesome murders—and rallied a proud spirit in every student, parent, and teacher alike. Which would've been sweet if it weren't for the downside: every lacrosse game was packed. It almost always felt as if the entire town had shown up. That meant there was no parking, hardly any seats, and it was nearly impossible to move without bumping into someone who'd come to support one team or the other.

I was already on edge, and the crowd wasn't making me feel any better. The only upside was that they would be loud, obnoxious, and distracting. It was our best chance to steal a seasoned hunter's keys, break into his office, obtain top secret information, and get out without getting ourselves executed. Really, it was our only chance.

I had to elbow my way through an endless stream of people to fight my way to the bench. The game was only a few minutes away from starting, and most of the players were already padded up and heading for their first pre-game huddle. Luckily, the person I was looking for wasn't on first line, or even in uniform.

"Sadie! Geez, there you are!" Stiles leapt over the bench when he saw me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to the field, out of the way of the spectators who were still filing into the stands. "Are you okay? The game literally starts in like sixty seconds. What held you up?"

"Lydia," I sighed, wrapping my arms around my torso to fend off the breeze. "I tried to get her to come out and get some air, but she's pretty determined. She didn't want to deal with the crowds or having to see Jackson, so she wouldn't drive me. Mom went out shopping because she thought Lydia was driving me, and basically we're all just really lucky that Mrs. McCall was running a little late too. What are you wearing?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows, glancing down at his attire and back at me. "It's a track suit. I thought that was pretty clear."

"And you play lacrosse, Stiles. I thought that was pretty clear. Or did you think the lacrosse sticks were with the pole vault equipment?"

"Funny," he grumbled, making me smirk. "Well, I'm sure as hell not playing today, so why bother?"

"You could still play. If everything goes well, you'll be in and out of the school with the book in a couple minutes. That's plenty of time for some key players to get injured and give you time to shine."

"Yeah, that's if everything goes well, which happens approximately zero percent of the time. Besides, I'm the last person Coach would put on the field. He hasn't even noticed I'm not in my gear. He doesn't care."

We turned to glare at Coach Finstock out on the grass. He was screaming his lungs out, as usual, huddled in the middle of the first line players. I frowned, grabbing Stiles's face and forcing him to look at me.

"Stiles, this is Finstock we're talking about. So what if he doesn't believe you're going out there? This is the same guy who thinks athlete's foot is God's way of rewarding team players and not an excusable medical condition."

Stiles snorted and ducked his head, nodding into my hands. "Valid. Still unlikely, though."

"Okay. Do you want me to tell Scott to break Jackson's arm? I think he'd do it if I asked nicely enough. Jackson would be in pain, you could be on the field—it's a win for everyone."

"Thanks, but uh, not in front of Gerard," he chuckled, finally lifting his head to meet my eye. He gave me a small smile, but it slowly slipped away the more he thought it over. "You really think we're gonna be able to pull this off?"

"Of course I do. I believe in you."

I smiled as I ran a thumb over his cheek, but Stiles just stared at me for a few seconds. Before he could say anything, a whistle blew in the distance, and the crowd roared in anticipation of the game.

"I better go find Mrs. McCall," I said, patting his cheek and taking a step back. "Keep an eye on your phone. I'll text you when we're a go. Good luck."

I winked at him, then ran back through the crowd, looping my way around to the other side of the field.

It was normal for games to be crowded, but the closer we got to finals, the more seats seemed to fill up. Somehow, Mrs. McCall had still managed to find us decent seats. I slid into the seat she'd saved me for me at the end of the row just as the whistle blew. The game was officially on.

I managed to cheer on the team even as Jackson walked to the center of the field. He was an asshole and, frankly, a poor excuse for a human being, but he was good at lacrosse. I wasn't blinded enough to pretend that Beacon Hills didn't need him to get to the finals. So I clapped along with everyone else when he snatched up the ball. Whittemore pass to Heifer, Heifer pass to Peters and—

There was a chorus of groans and gasps from both sides of the field as Dylan Peters' body fell to the ground. Or really, it wasn't so much of a fall as it was a collapse, even a plummet. He'd tried to weave around one of the players, but number forty-two of the Winstone Beavers was apparently not one to back down. Or stumble. Or flinch in the slightest. Dylan bounced off him like a tennis ball and crumpled to the ground while the other boy towered over him, still as stone.

"Ouch," Mrs. McCall hissed beside me, peering out onto the grass. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Who, Peters?" I asked. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's like a cockroach. He'll keep crawling on."

Mrs. McCall gave me a dubious look, but kept her reservations to herself.

Whoever number forty-two was, he was keeping the game on lockdown. He toppled player after player out of his way without swaying so much as once. It was horrifying to watch, really. I was almost glad I had an elaborate heist planned to steal an old book so I didn't have to stick around.

As it was, I spent most of the game checking my phone and scanning the crowd opposite us until I spotted Allison and Gerard. Stiles was texting me frantically, demanding to know what was going on, but all I could do was remind him that I would text him when he needed to get in position. Allison couldn't rush things without raising suspicion.

A flash of blonde caught my eye, and I briefly broke my watch of the Argents. My heart dropped; Erica and Boyd were sitting in the crowd, just two rows behind Gerard. I screamed a few choice curse words in my head. As if it wasn't bad enough that they were out in public while learning to control themselves, they had to sit right next to the most dangerous man in the stadium. I wanted to warn them—or scream at them—but I didn't have either of their numbers anyway. I thought about texting Derek, but if the kids were out, they were probably here on his orders. I wasn't sure if they were spying on Gerard or us, but either way, it didn't instill me with confidence.

I stiffened when I saw Gerard stand up. For a moment, I was worried he was leaving, but then he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Allison's shoulders. She smiled at him, pulling it tight around her torso and perching herself back down on the bench. I caught her eye from across the way and immediately diverted my attention. My grip on my phone tightened in anticipation of the message.

"Here!"

I nodded down at Allison's text, inconspicuous enough that if Allison's parents checked the message, they wouldn't think anything of it. I opened a new message to Stiles, giving him the all clear. I gave him a minute to get into position, then jumped to my feet, waving my arms over my head and jumping up and down.

"You alright there?" Mrs. McCall laughed from beside me, but I just grinned.

"Trying to get Allison's attention. She's over there with her grandpa."

Allison pretended to notice me for the first time and waved back to me. She leaned over to say something to Gerard, then pointed to me across the field. Ignoring the way it made my skin crawl, I politely waved to our principal as well. He smirked back at me, lifting a hand in mock salute before turning his attention back to the carnage on the field.

It was a quick interaction, but it was enough. Stiles had snuck between the bleachers and slipped the keys from Allison's hand in the moment of distraction. I watched as he twirled around, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. I had to smirk; he was hopeless, and I loved every second of it.

I sat back down the bleachers as another player was crushed to the ground. With the majority of my task complete, I was free to groan in disappointment and concern with the rest of the crowd as paramedics swarmed the field. Number forty-two certainly seemed to be an unstoppable force, and I didn't see anyone being able to take him down except Scott. Unfortunately, Scott wouldn't be taking anyone down while Gerard was in the stands. We were under enough scrutiny as it was; the last thing we needed for Scott to start doing front flips on the field, flaunting his powers in front of the masses. On the other hand, if he didn't do something soon, we weren't going to make it to the championship.

Click!

I jumped a bit at the sound in my ear. I spun around face-first into the bright red of a Beacon Hills lacrosse jersey. My eyes flicked to the camera in the boy's hands, then his face, and I did a double take. It was the boy who had elbowed me at Kate's funeral. The boy who had very angrily glared at me and then shoved me without apology.

Only now he wasn't glowering. He grinned, holding up an apologetic hand.

"Sorry, ha. Didn't mean to scare you." He lifted the camera higher, as if I might not understand what had made the sound. "Enjoying the game?"

I'd intended to answer him, or at least demand to know what his problem was. Instead, what came out was: "You're on the lacrosse team?"

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled. "I mean, obviously I don't get a lot of play time, but I'm always around. I prefer hanging in the background, you know? You see a lot more."

I frowned at him. I didn't like that answer, and I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond. Thankfully, we were interrupted by a smattering of supportive applause from the crowd as the injured player was carried off the field. The paramedics carted him past us, close enough that we could hear him moaning unintelligibly about his legs.

"He belong to you?" the camera boy asked, leaning around me to smile at Mrs. McCall.

"No," she answered with a nervous smile. "No, mine is still on the field, while I'm here really wishing he would have stuck with tennis."

I wanted to laugh at that—the mental image of Scott in tennis shorts was somehow very funny to me—but it was like my brain was stuck. I watched the boy with the camera warily, still puzzled by his complete reversal of personality.

"Are you the yearbook photographer?" Mrs. McCall asked as he inspected another shot on his camera.

"Hm? No, I uh…I just take pictures."

"Oh. Just lacrosse, or other things?"

He smiled, glancing down at his camera again and tapping a few buttons. "Whatever catches my eye."

My frown deepened as I watched him smile at his camera. I don't know what it was—maybe I was just on edge because of Gerard and Erica and the bestiary—but there was something bothering me about the whole interaction. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Mrs. McCall cleared her throat, nudging me in the side. When I didn't respond, she took it upon herself to lean around me and offer the boy her hand. "Melissa McCall. I'm Scott's mom."

"Oh, uh, nice to meet you," he offered, hanging the camera around his neck so he was free to shake her hand. "Matt Daehler. I'm in Sadie's English class."

Mrs. McCall smiled and gave some polite reply, but I didn't hear it. Matt was watching me with a smile. I sat up straighter, now definitely on edge. I'd never spoken to Matt before, outside of a quick "watch it" at the funeral. I knew that I was pretty well known around school, if not because of Lydia then because Beacon Hills didn't get new students often, but I didn't like the way he'd just said my name so casually. We weren't friends. I didn't want him speaking for me.

Everyone around us suddenly jumped to their feet, screaming about Cyclones and scores and number thirty-seven. I glanced down at the end of the field, unsurprised to find Jackson being swarmed by his teammates. Apparently he'd managed to weave around the Beavers' giant and score a goal.

"Finally," Matt chuckled, snapping a picture of the happy players at the end of the field. "Thank God for Jackson Whittemore, right?"

I pursed my lips and crossed my arms over my chest. Yeah, that about settled it. I did not like Matt Daehler in the slightest.

My stomach lurched as my phone when off in my pocket. I scrambled to answer it, hoping for good news but expecting the worst. But the text from Stiles wasn't about the bestiary at all.

"Lydia's crying in the parking lot. Needs you."

My heart sank, and I picked up my things without another thought. "Mrs. McCall, I actually have to run. Not sure if I'll be back, but thank you so, so much for driving me."

"Oh, not a problem. Is everything okay?"

"Um…I'm not sure. Lydia's in a bit of a rough spot right now and…well, she needs me more than Scott does."

She nodded, a small smile of understanding crossing her face. "Okay, well I hope she's alright. I'll tell Scott what happened."

"Thank. I'll see you around, Mrs. McCall…Matt…"

I nodded stiffly to him before rushing off to the parking lot. Creep.

Moving was a lot easier now that the game was on, since most people were focused on the players, but it was still tough to find Lydia in the parking lot. The lot was overflowing with cars, too many to count. I tried to retrace the general path that Stiles would have taken to get to the school, glancing back and forth for any sign of life. Eventually, I spotted a car with the lights on, and rushed over to the shiny new silver car Lydia's dad had gotten her after the attack. I'd gotten a card with my last name spelt wrong, but I guess that's beside the point.

I hiked my bag up on my shoulder, walking up to the passenger door and knocking lightly. I could hear her groan through the glass, and she shoved her face into the tissue in her hand.

"I told him not to call you!"

"Well, technically he texted me, so…"

"Sadie, I'm fine. Just go back to your stupid semi-final lacrosse game."

"If it's so stupid, why'd you decide to come?"

Lydia didn't answer me. She didn't need to. I heard her sniffle again and she clutched her hand to her mouth as her chest began to shake. She held out for a few moments, but eventually she gave into the cries, leaning forward to rest her head on the steering wheel as the tears rolled down her face once more.

I gently tried the handle, finding it was already open and hopping into the passenger seat. I dropped my bag to the floor, shut the door behind me, and reached around the seats to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"Come on, you don't want to put your head there. You'll get a mark on your forehead."

She let me tug her to my chest as best I could at the awkward angle, and buried her head in my shoulder. I rested my head on top of hers, rubbing my hand up and down her arm. Normally I would have gone to grab one of her hands, but when I looked down, I saw the hot pink gloves she was using to hide her bloody knuckles. I bit my lip, trying to push the memory down. Instead, I grabbed the package of tissues she'd been holding and offered her a new one.

We sat there for a long, listening to the sounds of the game in the background. We sat there as we heard the cheers from the end of the game, loud enough to assure us that Beacon Hills was going to the finals. We sat there as people started pouring out from the field, heading back to their cars and headed home for the night. We sat there until we were some of the last people left, the lights going off in the stadium and leaving Lydia's car the only one around.

She finally pulled back, wiping at her face even though she hadn't been crying for quite a while. She took a deep breath and held her hands over her face.

"God, I'm a wreck."

"Don't worry. You look a lot better than I usually do. Besides, if I remember correctly, you've walked in on me crying once or twice yourself."

She let out a small, watery breath of laughter, shaking her head. Then she looked over at me with teary eyes. "How are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Joking. Not crying. Being…being okay after everything that's happened."

I shrunk down in my seat. "Trust me, I'm not okay either."

"Oh, shut up."

"Wha—excuse me?"

"Just—just shut up!" She smacked her hands on the steering wheel in frustration. "I—I can't take this anymore! I can't take you pretending like you're falling apart just to make me feel better about myself! You're not! Okay?! We were both attacked, and I seem to be the only one in this town who can't make sense of anything happening in my life! You're still going to school! You're still getting good grades! You're smiling and laughing and hanging out with people and sleeping at night! There hasn't been a single night since I got out of the hospital that I didn't have a nightmare, okay?! I—I have nightmares when I'm sleeping, and I can't focus when I'm awake! I feel like I am literally unraveling and then I look at you, and you're fine! You're absolutely fine, Sadie! How…how are you fine?"

The car lapsed into silence. Lydia's gaze quickly dropped to her gloves, her fingers weaving in and out of each other. She winced every now and again, like the gloves were tugging at the skin of her knuckles and causing her pain, but she didn't stop. She didn't take the gloves off. She just kept fiddling with her hands, dealing with it, accepting it, not bothering to try and stop.

I stared at her, my jaw slack with surprise. I usually knew how to handle Lydia. She was different from a lot of people, but I understood her. I knew what I was supposed to do to make her feel better, but this…I had no idea what to say to this. How was I supposed to help her see that I wasn't okay, that I was losing myself too, without giving her so much more to worry about that she just gave up? I couldn't tell her that I'd failed to save someone's life and listened to him die a few feet away from me. I couldn't tell her that I was hearing Allison's dead aunt in my head because I blamed myself for her death. I couldn't tell her that I was petrified of Allison's grandfather because there was a good chance he wanted me dead, wanted Scott dead, wanted Lydia dead. I couldn't be responsible for giving her any more to worry about, especially when I didn't have Scott or Allison to prove it. Lydia might think I was joking again, or worse, making fun of her. I didn't want to lie to her, but I couldn't risk losing her.

"I'm sorry," Lydia sniffled, shaking her head. "That was…God, that was awful…"

"No, it's fine," I said immediately, twisting in my seat so I could face her. "I think you needed to say it. It's really okay."

"I'm not mad you're fine, obviously. You're…you're my best friend, and I want you to be happy, I just…I want to be happy too…"

"I know. I want you to be happy too."

I stared down at my hands in deliberation for a moment before reaching out, gently taking one of her hands in mine and forcing her to stop playing with her gloves—to stop hurting herself.

"I think…one of the only reasons I'm…well, I'm definitely not as okay as you think I am, but…the only reason I'm coping is because I know I have my friends to back me up. I have you. I have Scott, Allison, Stiles. And they're all willing to listen to me and tell me it's gonna be okay. Even when I don't want to talk about it."

Lydia rolled her eyes at my pointed look, but I didn't let go of her hand.

"I know it's hard, Lyd—especially if you feel like what you're thinking doesn't make any sense—but I promise you that I am not going anywhere. I don't care what it sounds like. If you need to get something off your chest, then I want to listen to you. I want to help you. And so does everyone else."

"Yeah," Lydia scoffed, "Stiles looked super willing to listen to me when he was sprinting away from the call and calling for backup."

"Well, that's Stiles. You know how he is with feelings. He was probably afraid of saying something wrong and making you feel worse. He's a complete idiot, but he means well."

She pulled her hand back, holding it to her head as she sighed. "I'm sorry that I totally ruined your date."

"What? Lydia, you didn't—"

"Yes, I did. You brought me for back up and the only thing I did was bring everything to a screeching halt because I…"

She trailed off, holding her hands over her face, still shaking her head back and forth, back and forth. I waited almost a whole minute for her to go on, but she didn't. She just sat in the driver's seat, staring at the dashboard in the gaps between her fingers.

"Lydia…why did you scream?"

Her hands shook as she pulled them away from her face, turning to look at me with big, fearful eyes once more. Her bottom lip trembled, unsure whether it was meant to form words or hide itself between her teeth to stop her from crying. But finally, she managed to choke it out.

"I saw him. The…the man who bit me." My face must have betrayed my alarm, because she jumped forward, waving her hands. "I—I know! I know you told the police that you fainted, and I know that you said that you didn't see anything. I know you—you had those claw marks on your shoulder and I know those couldn't come from a person, I just…every time I think back to that night…I don't see a cougar. I just see this—this guy with black hair, and he's coming toward me and his—his teeth just—and his eyes—"

"Lydia! Lydia, breathe."

I grabbed her shoulders, cupping a hand under her chin and forcing her to look at me as she started to hyperventilate. She nodded shakily, forcing the breaths in and out of her chest and grabbing my wrists for all she was worth, on the verge of leaving bruises behind. But her breathing began to slow, and finally she sighed, letting me go and clutching at her chest.

I let her sit like that for a while, readjusting to reality, but the subject was far too important to leave alone. I'd spent so much time worrying about how to explain everything to Lydia, only to find out she was already half-way to the right conclusion. She just needed someone who was willing to help her.

Lydia hadn't spoken to me about the attack. We talked about formal, we talked about the hospital, and skipped over most of the in between. Except for a few scathing jokes, Lydia had never even mentioned it. She'd certainly never mentioned seeing Peter—a man with glowing red eyes and long, pointed teeth. She'd seen him fully transformed back at the video store, and now, she was still seeing him even though he was dead. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it couldn't be good. Then again, I was hearing dead people too, right?

"Can you remember—"

"No," she said forcefully, already regretting opening up. "That's all I remember before I woke up in the hospital with you. I…I get flashes sometimes, but I can't tell what I'm remembering and what I'm…imagining to fill in the blanks. You screaming, Jackson…"

She stopped again, letting her eyes flicker toward the lacrosse field before falling back to her lap.

"I'm sorry, Lydia…"

I knew the main reason Lydia hadn't gotten out of the car was probably that she wasn't ready to face her fear. I doubted she'd been out on the field since the formal. I'd gotten a chill the first time I'd come back too. But I also knew that the other reason she hadn't come was because of Jackson. I could spin her some bullshit about how Jackson would come around, how they were better together and they would make things work, but we would both know that I was lying. Lydia knew exactly how I felt about Jackson.

She propped her elbow on the car door, resting her head in her hand.

"I just…it's not even that I want him back…okay, it's not just that I want him back," she amended when she saw my unimpressed look. "I just hate seeing him walk around without me like—like he doesn't care. And every time I look at him, I feel sick, which is clearly not a problem he's having. I mean, am I…? I've never felt so…"

"No."

Lydia's head snapped toward me. "I didn't say anything yet."

"I know. But I know that whatever word was about to come out of your mouth was not worthy of describing you. So you're not gonna say anything, okay?"

She rolled her eyes and sniffled, but her trembling lips pulled up into a smile. I counted that as a win.

"Listen, you are my best friend. I know how you feel about Jackson, but honest to God, this whole thing aside…I know him. And I know that he is not nearly as over you as he is pretending to be. All that…toxic masculinity he's crammed into his head instead of a brain is telling him that he's not allowed to have emotions, and if he shows you that he cares, then he loses. He's a stupid, stupid boy, making stupid, stupid choices that only make sense to his stupid, stupid self. But if I know one thing in this world, it's that Lydia Martin leaves a lasting impression, and there is no way anyone on this planet—nay, in this universe—could ever, ever forget you."

"God, you're such a dork," she groaned, swatting at me with one hand so I might miss her wiping her eyes with the other.

"Mm, yes. Fortunately for me, you keep choosing to hang out with me anyway."

Lydia laughed, and I chuckled along with her for a few seconds. For now, the storm had passed. We were at least a little okay. But her next words made my stomach drop again.

"I just feel like there's something going on. Like something's happening that everyone forgot to tell me about," she said quietly, hesitantly turning toward me. "If I…if I asked you a question, would you tell me the tr—"

Before she could get that last, fateful word out, my phone went off in my pocket, blaring my ringtone through the small car. I yelped, fumbling with the phone as Lydia's face fell.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I winced. "Let me just—Hey, Stiles, I'm—"

"Sadie! In—p-pool!"

"Wait, what?"

"Lizard! Help!"

My eyes shot open as I caught the cough and splash on the other end of the line. The phone beeped, and the call ended.

"What?! Stiles?! Stiles!"

"Sadie? What happened?" Lydia asked, her voice about an octave higher than before.

I could feel my insides twisting into knots as I fought off the panic. Breathe. Keep calm. Level head. Save Stiles. Don't worry Lydia.

"God, he's a fucking idiot," I grumbled, shoving my phone back into my pocket. "Thinks it's so fun to give me a heart attack. Ha ha, too funny. I'm gonna kill him."

"What did he do?"

"He's probably hiding somewhere waiting to jump out at me when I finally get fed up of looking for him. Look, I'm just gonna get a ride home with him. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?"

"A-are you sure? Because I can—"

"I'm fine! Just get home and take a few deep breaths, and…and we'll talk later. I promise. Okay?"

Lydia pursed her lips, clearly unhappy, but she nodded at her steering wheel. It broke my heart to watch her, but I didn't have a choice. If Lydia wanted to hear it, the truth would be around tomorrow. If I didn't leave now, Stiles might not be.

I leapt out of the car and sped to the school doors as fast as I could without alarming Lydia. The moment I hit the hall, I broke into a sprint, skidding on the floor as I twisted and turned and jumped my way down the stairs to the pool. I had no idea how Stiles had ended up down there, of all places. I'd been so focused on Lydia that I hadn't even bothered to check for an all clear messaged from Stiles when he grabbed the bestiary. Obviously, everything was not all clear.

Every fiber of my being told me to get to the pool as soon as possible, but I forced myself to slow down as I reached the end of the hall. If the lizard was anything like a werewolf, it would be able to hear me coming, and the last thing I needed was for it to knock me off my feet again. Another blow to the head, and I probably wouldn't be able to stop Stiles and my mother from forcibly checking me into a hospital.

I slipped a hand into my purse and out the black CD case I'd tucked inside. It was the closest thing I had to an inconspicuous case for Kate's gun. I couldn't let the lizard get away from my twice. It had killed the mechanic, it had tried to kill Stiles, and now it looked like it was back to finish the job. I wasn't going to let it kill my friends. I wasn't going to let it kill anyone. I had to shoot it.

"Atta girl."

I squeezed my eyes shut, burying the voice under all the other thoughts in my head. I could do it. I was going to do it. I had to do it.

I kicked my shoes off in the hallway, leaving them against the wall with my purse. I needed to be fast and quiet, and they were only going to slow me down. Then I pushed the door open and crept inside. I tried to close the door quietly, but I knew it was no use. If the thing had any sort of enhanced hearing, it would know I was coming, especially since every sound in the room seemed to be echoed twenty times over in the empty space. I just needed to hope the creature was focused on the sloshing water, the gasping breaths I knew had to belong to Stiles, trapped in the pool.

The sound firmed my resolve. I tightened my grip on the gun. Stiles's life was at stake here, and I was not going to let him die.

I rounded the corner of the stairs, systematically scanning the room, but there wasn't a scale in sight. There was something that caught my attention though: spluttering in the pool, frantically treading water, was Stiles. Only Stiles wasn't alone. He was struggling to keep another body above the surface, limp and drenched and dressed in black.

"Derek…?"

The water sloshed around as Stiles paddled around to face me. He let out a heavy gasp, something I assumed was supposed to be a sound of relief. Derek's choked gasp was not nearly as happy.

"You called Sadie?!" he roared, and if he could have, I was sure he would've been strangling the life out of Stiles. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"That we need help!"

"Sadie, get out of here."

"What?" I asked incredulously, glaring at them. "No! I'm not leaving you here!"

"Sadie! Get out now!"

"No! I can help!"

"Sadie!"

"Derek, I'm not going—"

"No! Behind you!"

I spun around, arm leveling on instinct and letting a bullet loose without a second thought. The tile on the opposite wall exploded, shattering to the ground, but I barely heard the sound over the almighty screech that followed it. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes dropped, locking onto the slitted, yellow eyes that were staring at me from the floor.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Sadie, the thing crawls on all fours! What are you shooting at eye level?!"

"Stop," I muttered.

I lowered the gun to point at the creature's face. It hissed at me, creeping forward with its talons clicking on the tile. I tried and failed to stand my ground, instinctively shuffling back, but keeping the gun as steady as I could manage. It hissed again, and my hands trembled.

"God, you are unbelievable, you know that? What is it going to take to make you kill this thing? You won't do it to save innocents. You won't do it to save your friends. You won't do it to save yourself. You can't seriously be that worried about hurting a giant lizard!"

"Stop."

The creature hissed again and I pulled the trigger, smashing one of the floor tiles at its side. The lizard drew its lips back to bare its long fangs. I was almost positive Stiles and Derek were yelling at me, but even though the sound was loud and clear, I could barely hear it.

"Oh no, hold on a second," Kate's voice chuckled from inside my head. I tried to bury it, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my teeth, but it resolutely pushed its way to the surface. "I know what it is. You're not afraid of hurting it. You're afraid you're gonna like it. You're afraid you're gonna pull that trigger and feel that rush of adrenaline you love so much. Mm, that spark in your stomach, remember? You're afraid you're gonna kill someone and you're gonna like it."

I shot the floor again, and the creature scrambled aside, spitting and flicking its tail.

"Aw, Sadie. There's no use fighting it. You're a natural, remember? You were born for this. Murderer."

"STOP!"

Bang! Crash!

Bang! Smash!

Bang! Screeeech!

The lizard writhed in front of me, screaming in pain and anger as its tails thrashed back and forth, flecking the floor with dark blood. There wasn't any time for celebration; the creature was already recovering. Yellow eyes glared at me with a fire that made it very clear that I hadn't injured it so much as pissed it off. It opened its mouth in an earsplitting roar that shook my bones.

"Sadie!"

"Jump!"

I didn't need to be told twice. I threw the gun to the side and leapt over the ledge into the pool. It was strange to hear so much one moment and nothing the next. The screeching, the yelling, the echoing gunshots all disappeared as I sank under the water. My body relaxed, calmed by the steady sound of my pulse in my ears. It meant I was still alive.

Part of me wanted to stay at the bottom of the pool forever. There were no deadly creatures down here, no voices in my head. Just my heartbeat and the easy chill of the water against my skin.

But the part that wanted to stay was not my respiratory system. My lungs burned, and I kicked off the bottom of the pool and rocked toward the surface.

I gasped for air as soon as I could get it, coughing and blinking the chlorine from my eyes. I paddled around to see the creature hissing at me from the edge of the pool, and quickly swam further into the center.

"Oh, thank God," Stiles spluttered as I swam up to him. Without pausing to think about it, I threw my arms around him, too happy to see him alive and breathing to give a damn about the consequences. Derek half-screamed, half-gurgled in protest as all three of us sank a few inches deeper into the water.

"Now?! Are you fucking kidding?!"

"Sorry!" I pushed back, latching onto Derek's free arm and pulling him back to the surface. "Sorry, sorry. I'm here. Hi."

"Yeah, that was so helpful. Thanks."

"Hey, don't talk to her like that!"

"I am drowning! I am paralyzed in eight feet of water and two horny teenagers are going to let me fucking drown!"

"Calm down, Derek, it's not that deep."

I ignored the pointed look Derek gave me and glanced over my shoulder to look for the creature. It had sunk closer to the wall, but was now pacing around the room, circling us until it found a moment to strike.

"Why isn't it coming after us?" I asked nervously.

"It won't go in the water," Stiles explained. "I don't think it can swim."

I looked over at him, finally noticing just how labored his breathing was; his kicks were sporadic. He barely had enough energy to keep himself above water, let alone support Derek.

"How long have you been in here?"

"Pretty much since I left. Someone decided to have me kidnapped—"

"Wait, you did what?" I asked, glaring down at Derek.

"Oh yeah!" Stiles gurgled derisively. "Our well-planned, well-executed mission got crashed because Erica showed up to drag me here so he could interrogate me about what happened with the mechanic. She literally dragged me, in case you were wondering. I'm gonna have bruises for a week."

"Hold on, Erica? What happened? Where is she now?"

"Knocked out," he grumbled, jerking his head toward the opposite wall.

I followed his gaze, spotting the motionless body on the floor in the corner. I worried for a moment, but even at this distance, her chest was visibly rising and falling. The creature hissed at her as it passed, but didn't pay her any more attention than that. Unconscious, she didn't pose a threat, which meant she was safe for now.

"Okay, what—what about Boyd?" I asked. "He was with her in the stands, right? They came together?"

"I told him to go home," Derek disagreed. "After the stunt he pulled on the field—"

"The field? God, do all of you play lacrosse now?!"

"Look it doesn't matter! He's not here! Scott's not coming! We—we have no backup!"

I growled, kicking my legs a little harder in frustration.

"Derek, why wouldn't you just call me? If you just fucking asked—"

"Then you'd what?" he snapped. "Last time we spoke, you made it pretty clear that you wanted nothing to do with me and my pack."

"Because people were getting hurt! Now people are getting killed! I wouldn't have lied to you about that! I'm not an idiot!"

"Well you certainly didn't call with any kind of heads up."

"And you found out anyway! What a surprise!"

"Both of you just stop!" Stiles begged. "Point is, I think we all have a very solid understanding of what this thing looks like and what it's capable of now, yes?"

Derek went to reply, but all he got out was bubbles as both he and Stiles slipped underwater again. I yanked on Derek's torso for all I was worth, managing to bring them back to the surface once more.

"Stop doing that!" Derek screamed, and I had to reach over to mop the hair out of his face.

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" Stiles yelled back. "I—I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

"Of course not," I sighed. "Have you been holding him like this the whole time?"

The boys shared a look of confusion before staring at me. Obviously, they were too stressed to ask themselves if there was a better way to handle the situation. If I'd had energy to spare, I would have rolled my eyes.

"Okay, Derek, take a deep breath."

"Oh no, no, no! You are not dropping me again! Enough!"

"Shut up. I'm trying to make this easier. Just trust me."

Derek glared at me for a few seconds, clearly not comfortable with the idea of trusting anyone. He grudgingly took a deep breath, but I was the one who dove underwater. I grabbed his ankles and brought them back up with me, helping him plank on top of the water. Stiles and I spun him so that I could take charge of the bulk of Derek's weight. Stiles held up his legs while I hooked my arms under his and propped his head on my shoulder.

"Just keep breathing, okay?" I instructed. "If you keep air in your chest it will help you float."

"Thanks for using your fucking brain," Derek grumbled, making Stiles's jaw drop.

"Hey!"

"Yeah, you got it," I replied to Derek, unable to keep the small, anxious smirk off my face. "How you feeling? I mean, is it wearing off or—"

"Starting to." Derek twitched his leg forcefully, kicking Stiles in the shoulder. "See?"

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"Being an idiot!"

I did roll my eyes this time. I let Derek's face dip under the water for a fraction of a second and ignored his spluttering protests.

"Play nice," I warned him.

"Are you serious?! Sadie, I'm drowning!"

"Yeah, and you've been saying that for like an hour," Stiles spat, "and you're still not dead. So obviously, you're not drowning."

"No thanks to you."

"No—excuse me?! I'm sorry, who was it treading his ass off to hold your stupid werewolf head above water, huh?!"

"Dropping me to the bottom of the pool without warning so you can call your girlfriend does not count as above water!"

"Oh yeah?! Well how about I drop you again, huh? Let's see how long your werewolf super-healing helps you stay alive underwater, huh?!"

"A hell of a lot longer than you'd last."

"Exc—no! Uh, hi! I—I would last just fine!"

"Oh my God, both of you shut up."

"He started it!" they yelled in unison.

"I cannot believe I'm saying this right now: I don't care who started it. I'm ending it! Both of you conserve your energy. It doesn't look like we're leaving any time soon."

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but I glared at him, and after a few moments of particularly angry treading, he huffed.

We succeeded in treading silently for a while. It was hard to tell just how long it was when we were all so focused on staying alive. Changing position had helped, but it wasn't enough. Derek—tall, hulking mass of brooding werewolf that he was—was extremely heavy, and I hadn't been holding him for half as long as Stiles had. He was gaining his feeling back slowly, though it still took too much effort for him to move to even think about climbing out. He was rapidly getting angrier, and I was rapidly getting tired.

Stiles was well past his limit on both fronts. He kept his jaw locked, concentrating on his breathing and minimizing his kicks. Even the few breaks he took from holding Derek didn't seem to help. He was fading fast, and there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop it.

The lizard seemed to be able to sense that we'd reached our breaking point. It started circling the pool fast, eyes locked on us as it swept around the room, flicking its tail eagerly. It had all the time in the world; we were running out.

"I—I can't stay up any longer," Stiles spluttered. "I—I—I need something to hold onto!"

Stiles sank under the surface again, and I could feel my heart sinking too. Either we took our chances with the giant lizard at the edge of the room, or we were going to drown. I wasn't willing to watch Stiles die just yet.

"Do you think you can make it to the diving board?"

Stiles glanced over and nodded weakly. I hoisted Derek up a little higher, took a deep breath, then began kicking toward the edge of the pool. It was slow progress, and absolutely exhausting. I let Stiles pull ahead so he could make a grab for the edge of the diving board.

"Stiles," I called in a warning voice. "It's coming."

The creature seemed to anticipate our plan, but it wasn't in any hurry. It crept along the edge of the pool, knowing we were cornered, keeping even with us with its eyes locked on its prey.

I heard Stiles sputter, heard him fumbling with the diving board as the creature sped up. I went to call out again, but before I could, there was a splash. Stiles was sinking, pulling Derek with him, pulling me. He was kicking and flailing, but not enough to bring himself back to the surface.

"No, no, no! Stiles!" I kicked as hard as I could, trying to tread enough for all three of us. "No! Help! H-help! Stiles! St—ahhh!"

I screamed as a set of claws seized my shoulders, ripping me up and out of the water. I didn't even think to fight back, just screamed, holding onto Derek for all that I was worth and tugging him out of the water with me. Another shriek echoed through the room and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the fangs to sink into my flesh, for my chest to be torn to ribbons by talons, for my nerve endings to die as they were flooded with paralytic toxins—but nothing happened. Instead another sound rang through the pool, bouncing off the walls and making the floor tremble: a deep, ferocious roar.

I lifted my head, spotting the blue of Scott's sweatshirt just before he was knocked to the side by a blur of scales. It took a second for my brain to catch up to reality. The lizard was attacking Scott. Scott had pulled me out of the water. I'd been floundering in the water because—

The world tilted and swirled around me as I sprang upright, pushing myself onto my knees and crawling over to Derek.

"Derek?! Derek! Are you—"

"Fine." He rolled his head to the side, trying to keep an eye on Scott while he coaxed his body into motion. "Go!"

I spun on my knees, scrambling toward the limp body in the red tracksuit lying a few feet away. I leaned over him, grabbing his face and letting my hands graze over his chest. He was completely nonresponsive.

"Stiles! Stiles, are you okay?! Stiles?!"

Water seeped into my eyes, but I was too frantic to notice whether they were tears or pool water dripping down from my hair. I yelled his name a few more times, holding his head and willing those maple eyes to flicker open. I choked back a sob, shaking out my hands and forcing myself to focus. I laced my fingers together, laid them over his chest, and pushed. I grit my teeth in determination—one and two and three and four and—

Stiles spasmed back into motion. A jet of water streamed out of his mouth, his eyes flying open as he hacked violently. I let out a strangled noise of relief as I gripped the fabric of his sweatshirt to help him on his side. He grabbed my hands as an anchor, and I let him grip my wrists tightly over the marks where Lydia had done the same.

I looked around wildly, checking to make sure that Scott and the lizard were still fighting a safe distance away before turning back to Stiles. He was panting, air coming more easily to him now, but I couldn't bring myself to let go of him.

"A-are you okay? Stiles? Are you—"

"Did you just do CPR?"

"Wha—I—I was trying to. I was doing chest compressions, and—and you woke up. You're okay."

"Damn," he wheezed, letting his head fall back against the tile. "Should've stayed unconscious longer."

I wanted to glare at him. I wanted to smack him for making such a stupid joke while we were still trapped in a life or death situation. Instead, my face pulled into a smile and I collapsed forward, burying my face in his chest and digging my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, as if I could hold him there and nothing bad would ever happen to us ever again.

We both jumped as a particularly loud screech echoed over the pool, and we looked up just in time to watch the lizard scale the wall and burst through the glass ceiling. Shards rained down onto the water, sinking down into its depths and leaving the room quiet.

Scott collapsed onto his knees and Derek pulled himself up on the diving board. He was still too weak to stand, but was watching Scott in concern. "Scott—"

"I'm fine."

Scott tossed aside the shard of mirror he'd been wielding as a weapon and pushed himself back to his feet. He hurried to help Derek up, the hair on his cheeks receding with every step, fangs sinking back into his gums. By the time he reached us, he was human again, and knelt down between Stiles and me.

"Are you alright?"

"Peachy," Stiles scoffed, straining as he sat up, "and very glad we got the swimming unit done freshman year so that I never have to come in this room ever again."

Scott laughed weakly, pulling Stiles to his feet and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "What happened?"

"Well, we didn't find the bestiary, so we thought we'd have a pool party instead. Pretty crazy."

"Derek wanted to know what happened to the mechanic," I explained as Scott rolled his eyes. "He and Erica crashed our plan, and then the lizard crashed theirs. I got here as fast as I could, but…obviously I wasn't much help."

"At least you tried," Stiles grumbled bitterly.

I watched as a shadow of guilt crossed Scott's face and Stiles pulled his arm back to stand on his own. I must not have been Stiles's first call for help.

"Where were you?" I asked Scott, trying not to sound accusatory.

"Getting the bestiary." He held up a set of keys, which I assumed must have been Gerard's, and flashed a silver thumb drive at us with a hopeful grin. "We won the game and Gerard very forcefully invited me over for dinner. So it was kind of go or die."

"Or go and die," I snorted. "How'd her parents take it?"

"Peachy," Scott echoed with a wry smile. "More death threats, and some…really aggressive table setting. I'm starting to think it's always gonna be like that."

"You're having sex with their daughter," Stiles shot with a smirk. "There'd be death threats even if you weren't a werewolf."

I smacked him on the shoulder while Scott laughed. Boys.

I walked around to the other end of the pool, wringing my hair as I went. My gun was lying discarded on the ground where I'd thrown it before jumping in the water. I picked it up and cautiously ran my fingers across the metal. At least I'd managed to fire it today. That was progress, right?

"I've got it."

I looked up, surprised to find Derek looming over me. I frowned in confusion, then followed his gaze to the floor. Evidently, in my daze, it'd looked like I was assessing the damage of the tiles I'd shot to pieces. The creature had spattered blood and toxic slime all around, too; that was a valid concern. A broken ceiling would be easy enough to dismiss, but if the janitor found bullets and blood on school premises, there would probably be an investigation.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Yeah. Get out of here."

"Derek, about what I said—"

"It's fine." His voice was stern enough that I stopped talking immediately, but when he looked at me, it was without resentment. "Really, Sadie. You should go. We'll take care of this."

My eyes trailed past him to see Erica walking over to join him, still dazed, but regaining her senses quickly. Of course Derek wanted me out of here. We'd just escaped a giant lizard; the last thing he wanted to deal with now was a cat fight.

I patted him on the arm as I passed and avoided looking at Erica at all. I was glad she was alive, but that wouldn't stop me from shoving her into the pool if she tried to start something. I pointedly wrapped my arms around Scott and Stiles, kissing both on the cheek before I tugged them toward the exit.

"Come on. Let's get a look at this nifty book."