The next morning, Lydia and I were almost late for school. That was the price we paid for having fun. We'd stayed up past three in the morning—watching movies, baking cookies, swapping stories, and taking mindless personality quizzes until we passed out on the floor. Which meant neither of us were in our bedrooms to hear our alarms go off.

We weren't even Lydia-late—when you push a few speed limits and forgo coffee so you can still make it to school in time to make an entrance. We were properly skid-into-the-parking-lot-and-sllide-into-your-seat-just-after-the-bell late. A few people laughed as I toppled into my desk. I was prepared to shoot a reproachful glare at Stiles, but he wasn't even looking at me. Neither was Scott, nor Allison. All three of them were staring morosely down at their desks, oblivious to the world outside their troubles. Yesterday had just been that bad.

Thankfully, it seemed Mr. Neske had an easy day planned. He turned off the lights and rolled a television to the front of the room so we could wrap up our unit by watching the movie for Of Mice and Men. Not a cinematic masterpiece, but it gave the rest of us time to catch up.

Stiles wrote out a long note explaining what had happened at the police station. Like he'd mentioned the night before, Jackson and his father had been waiting with Sheriff Stilinski when Stiles and Scott showed up. According to Jackson, the boys had knocked him out and brought him out to the woods as some kind of prank. There had been no mention of our talk, no mention of our concerns. In fact, he hadn't mentioned me or Allison at all. Stiles thought I should count myself lucky, but I was having a hard time being grateful. It was always something with Jackson, and I doubted he'd left me out of it as a kindness.

It was objectively ridiculous to think that Stiles and Scott would go to such great lengths to prank Jackson, but there wasn't much to be done. No one felt confident enough in Sheriff Stilinski's patience to offer to bring him into the next room and show him how Scott could transform into a werewolf. So the boys had accepted their punishment without question. They were to come to school while trying to maintain a fifty foot distance from Jackson. Mrs. McCall had grounded Scott until the end of time, and he wasn't supposed to be seeing Stiles. Stiles hadn't mentioned any specifics about his punishment, but he didn't need to. Even if the sheriff hadn't placed any restrictions on him, I knew his father's disappointment must be hurting Stiles enough.

In turn, I wrote a note back to Stiles, whispering the story to Scott as I scribbled across the page. Allison and I hadn't told the Argents anything either. In a turn of events, which had nothing to do with me telling Lydia the truth, Lydia had shown up and offered to translate the bestiary. Allison had the full file on her tablet, but the long and short of it was that Jackson wasn't just out of control; he was being controlled. Until we figured out who really wanted all his victims dead, we couldn't risk turning him over to the hunters…as much as I was dying to turn him in for being a bitch.

When English ended, we all parted ways with somber looks. It was getting hard to see any kind of bright side these days. Scott and Allison couldn't talk to each other, and now Scott and Stiles weren't supposed to either. All of us were on thin ice with our parents, we were under constant surveillance at school, and the one person we were trying to protect was such an asshole that he was actively trying to destroy our lives while we saved his. Jackson's heartlessness never ceased to amaze me.

Of course, there was always room for things to get worse.

I walked into my math class with my head held high, a precautionary measure I'd learned to take to avoid dealing with Erica. She was always either sneering at me or snarling at me, and I hated giving her the satisfaction of a reaction, even to gloat about how Allison had taken her down at Scott's house. It was much more effective to not give her any attention at all.

But in my effort to overlook Erica, I'd also overlooked another glaringly obvious detail. I sat down in my usual seat only to find that the desk in front of me had already been claimed by someone. A very smug someone with a crisp, gray button down and annoyingly strong cheekbones.

"Hey," Jackson said with a nod, turning halfway in his seat to face me.

I actually looked behind me. I looked to the right, to the desk where Danny usually sat. I looked behind Jackson, to the seat where Erica usually was, but she hadn't gotten there yet either. I looked all around the classroom for some explanation for…whatever was currently happening…

"Excuse me?"

Jackson repressed a snort. "I said 'hey.' It's a sort of greeting? Something you say to people when you start talking to them?"

"…and why the fuck are you talking to me?"

"Is that a problem?" His voice was infuriatingly innocent, his lips barely containing a smirk. "You were talking to me yesterday. And I thought we'd already established that you still sort of care about me. The whole working-to-save-my-life thing?"

"And you think that makes us friends?" I asked incredulously. "I don't think so. I told you, Jackson. I'm keeping you alive for Lydia. I don't give a shit about—"

"And I told you that I know that's a lie." Jackson gave me a playfully stern look, like a parent explaining to their four-year-old how they know they didn't brush their teeth. It might've been funny if it weren't so goddamn patronizing. "Look, I know I've don't some shitty things, and you don't want to admit you still give a crap. That's fine. But as long as you still do, I figure there's no point putting so much effort into hating each other. We've got enough shit to worry about."

For a moment, I actually lost the ability to speak. I couldn't feel any air passing in and out of my lungs, and my mind seemed to come to a screeching halt.

"I—I'm sorry, 'we'?"

"Yeah," he replied, still ever so condescending. "Running from the hunters, Derek's pack, figuring out what's going on with me—"

"Jackson, we know what's going on with you! You're so emotionally stunted that you couldn't turn into a werewolf. You're a kanima, and you're killing people. We tried telling you that, but instead of listening, you started handing out restraining orders."

"Don't be so dramatic, Sadie. My parents already knew something was going on. I had to say something. I gave up McCall and Stilinski cause they're weirdos. So long as there's no more handcuffs involved, I'm nice enough to keep you and Allison out of it."

"Nice?"

The word felt like venom in my throat, but Jackson only smiled. The worst part was, it didn't even look like a sneer. It was genuine, if reluctant. He honestly thought that sparing me while he criminalized Stiles and Scott was an act of kindness, something I was supposed to feel grateful for. I wasn't sure if he was that deluded, stupid, or just pretending, but it made me sick.

I was about to go into a tirade when a flash of blonde caught my eye: Erica was finally striding into the room. I grabbed Jackson's shoulders and forced him forward in his seat, digging my nails into his shoulder when he tried to turn back around. My head was down before Erica could notice anything was different, and I burrowed in my purse to pull out my phone.

"Keep your mouth shut around Erica. If she notices anything is different, your name goes right back to the top of Derek's hit list."

Jackson slumped in his seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket. I could almost see the arrogance in the way he typed. When my phone went off in my hands, I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from lunging at him.

"Knew you still cared about me."

I took a slow, deep breath, but my phone was trembling in my hands. I knew the smart thing to do. I should take advantage of the opportunity, no matter how deeply in denial Jackson was. If he was willing to listen, I should work with that. But even though I knew the smart thing to do, my hands started typing something very different.

"Look, I'll show you what we know about the kanima. But let me make myself clear: we're not friends, Jackson. We haven't been friends for a long time, and every day I am more and more thankful that we're not. Not turning me in while you throw my friends under the bus is not 'nice.' Don't pretend you did it for old times' sake or because you actually give a shit. You did it because you know something's wrong with you, you know you need a way out, and you know I'm one of the only people who can help. You're not nice. You're manipulative, selfish, and in so much fucking denial, it's a wonder you even know your name. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll stop fucking everything up."

Part of me regretted pressing send. It was a harsh thing to say, but I didn't have the patience to deal with him at the moment. My fury on behalf of Scott and Stiles far outweighed any pity I might have for Jackson, totally eclipsed all my reason. It was a stupid thing to type. He could show that text to his parents, to the police, to Gerard, and then my life would pretty much be over. I could only hope that I'd been harsh enough that Jackson would be too ashamed to rat me out.

It'd taken me enough time to type my lecture that class had already started by the time he finished reading the message. His shoulders were stiff, and his knuckles went white as he gripped the desk in fury, but he didn't turn around to look at me. He didn't text me back, didn't argue, didn't glare. When math was over, he stormed out of the classroom without looking back.

I went through a lot of the day on autopilot, trying not to feel my anger or my stress. The only times I even felt real were fleeting: Scott sending me a bracing smile, Allison laughing at a teacher's corny joke, Lydia rolling her eyes at someone's stupid question, Stiles holding my hand in the hallway. The rest of the time, we were anxiously waiting for a moment we could talk freely.

We finally found a few minutes toward the end of the day. I walked Allison to the library, talking about the history test we'd had earlier in the week and what questions we'd gotten wrong. We took turns glancing down the aisles of books, neither of us wanting to look suspicious with a camera pointed at our backs. Then Allison gently pushed me down a row, following me into the cover of the shelves and glancing nervously over her shoulder.

"Good afternoon, ladies," a familiar voice whispered.

I grinned at the row of encyclopedias in front of me, and pushed them apart to reveal Stiles and Scott on the other side of the shelf.

"You're such a dweeb."

"Hey, watch it," Stiles warned, brandishing a finger at me. "I'm your dweeb."

Allison rolled her eyes, but her grin quickly faded as she looked around the room again. She reached into her bag, pulling out her tablet and pushing it over the shelf to the boys.

"It's everything Lydia can translate. And trust me, she was very confused."

"Yeah, what'd you tell her?" asked Scott.

"Ha, um…Sadie told her that we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

She and Scott both chuckled to themselves at the absurdity, but Stiles blinked. "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

"O-oh…" Allison looked between Scott and I for direction, only to find us nodding passively. "…great…"

"Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling him?" Scott asked, turning back to the tablet as his fingers traced over the words.

"Not at all," I sighed. I grabbed one of the books off the shelf, weighing it in my hands to give me something to do. "Just a lot of very unnerving crap about how he gets controlled."

"But Stiles was right about the murderers," Allison added, making Stiles fist pump in victory in the next aisle. "It calls the kanima a weapon of vengeance. There's this story in there about this South American priest who uses the kanima to execute murderers in his village…"

"Alright, see?" Stiles offered. "So maybe it's not all that bad."

"…until the bond grew strong enough that it killed anyone he wanted it to."

"All bad. All very, very bad."

"Okay, so we can't figure out who the master is," I said, lowering my voice as someone walked past the end of our row, "but there might be another way to stop him. The bestiary says that the kanima is actually a mutation. It's supposed to be a werewolf, but it can't—"

"Until it resolves that in its past that manifests it," Scott read aloud from the tablet.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Okay, if that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself."

"I don't think it's just because he's a dick through," I pointed out. "I mean, how much of a dick was Peter? And he still managed to turn into a normal werewolf."

"Sadie, he looked like a bear that had fallen into a vat of radioactive sewage. Not really normal!"

"But still a werewolf."

"What if…?" Allison interrupted us tentatively. "What if it has something to do with his parents? His real parents?"

I held my breath for a moment, but the fact that Jackson was adopted didn't seem to be news to anyone.

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?" asked Scott.

"Lydia might," Stiles offered, and I scoffed.

"Of course she does. It's Lydia. The trick's going to be getting her to tell us."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked. "You're her best friend. She'll tell you anything, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course. Let me just dish out the nitty-gritty details of my ex-boyfriend's adoption to my friend, who vocally hates his guts and is lying to me about her day-to-day activities every single day of her life."

Stiles scrunched up his nose and nodded. "Okay, fair point."

"There's gotta be something you can do," Scott said, his voice strained with desperation.

"There might be something, but you're not gonna like it."

"Of course we're not," Stiles sighed, letting his head loll back. "I don't think we're allowed to like anything these days."

I put the encyclopedia back on the shelf, electing to ignore him. "I promised Lydia that if she still wanted to know what was going on, we would tell her today."

"What?!" Scott's voice was so loud, Stiles had to elbow him in the ribs. Scott winced, looked around the library, and quickly lowered his voice. "Sadie, what—why would you do that?!"

"Because it's about give and take, Scott," I hissed back. "We are always asking Lydia for help, but no one seems to be jumping at the chance to help her!"

"Sadie—"

"No, Stiles, I'm being serious. If we've learned anything this week, it's that we need Lydia on our side. She can translate the bestiary, she has inside knowledge about Jackson, and she's clearly going through something supernatural that none of us know how to identify. I know that we're not exactly in an ideal situation right now, but we can't keep asking her for things without offering something in return. She deserves to know, and she's not gonna give in. Neither am I."

No one wanted to meet my eye after that. They had to know that I was right, inconvenient as it was. We couldn't keep treating Lydia like a tool instead of a person. She'd proven she was innocent, she'd proven she was useful, and it was about time we brought her into the fold.

"I'm not shifting at school," Scott said firmly.

"I'm not asking you to," I replied. "Just promise me that we can tell her after school. If we tell her the truth about us, we might be able to leverage the truth about Jackson. Please."

I stared pleadingly at Scott. Maybe we'd been hanging out long enough that I'd picked up some tricks from his puppy dog eyes, but it was only a few seconds before he sighed. He glanced at Allison, who nodded softly. Then he turned to Stiles, who shrugged.

"She's right, man."

"Okay. Okay, tell her we'll explain after school. But we need to know about Jackson as soon as possible. You have to try and talk her into telling you now."

"Okay," I agreed firmly. "I'll talk to her."

"What if she doesn't give in, though?" Allison pointed out. "Shouldn't we try to talking to Jackson?"

"Funny," Stiles said bitterly. "Yeah, I'll take a pass."

"Me too," I said before Allison could even look at me. "Whenever someone says 'we' should talk to Jackson, it's me, and I've had enough of him for a lifetime. No, thank you."

"Sadie, you're still our best chance," Scott begged. "He didn't turn you in, right? Because—"

"Because he's a dick who knows he messed up but is too proud to admit it. He knows he can't fix this problem by himself, so he's spinning it like he's some benevolent overlord handing out pardons. He tried talking to me this morning, and I pretty much told him to go fuck himself, so you're gonna have to find another angle."

Scott gave me a scolding look, but Allison stepped in for me.

"It doesn't matter anyway. You need to talk to Lydia. I'll talk to Jackson. At least he doesn't have a restraining order against me."

"Okay, what do I do?" Scott asked, making her smile.

"You have a make-up exam, remember?"

Scott groaned and let his head fall to his chest. There was another moment where he looked to me and Stiles to back him up, but all he got were resolute nods. Shitty as life was, we were still teenagers. Battling homicidal lizards and hunters didn't excuse us from the rest of our responsibilities, and Scott was in enough hot water as it was.

Allison slid her hand across a lower shelf, taking Scott's hand and squeezing it gently. "Promise me."

Scott nodded reluctantly. "But if he does anything, you run the other way."

"I can take care of myself."

"Allison, if you get hurt while I'm busy with some stupid test, someone's going to need to take care of me. If he does anything…"

"Like?"

"Anything…weird, bizarre…anything—"

Stiles pushed him aside and stuck his head straight through the shelf. "Anything evil!"

I bit back a giggle as Allison shoved his head back to his own aisle. Stiles winced and gave her a reproachful look, but she was already moving the books on the shelf back into place.

"I'll talk to you guys later."

She gave me a small smile and turned on her heel, walking back the way we came and disappearing into the hall.

I exited my row in the opposite direction, meeting Stiles and Scott at the back of the library. Stiles was still rubbing his neck, and Scott remained nervous despite his girlfriend's reassurance.

"She'll be fine," I assured him. "We're in school, and she'll be smart about it. Jackson won't be able to pull anything."

"I hope not," he said softly, shaking his head. "I—what make-up test do I even have?"

"Chemistry, dude," Stiles supplied. "You're about two bad grades from failing, so you better get to Satan's lair."

"Will you stop saying that?" I pleaded. "You don't need detention on top of a restraining order."

"Harsh, but true."

"Look, just talk to Lydia," Scott said as he looked between us. "If we can talk to her after school, we will, but Jackson comes first. I'll see you later."

"Good luck on your test!" Stiles called as he walked away.

"Remember! Neutralization means an acid and a base combine to make salt and water!"

Scott waved us off and headed for Harris's classroom, leaving Stiles and I to snicker in the back of the library.

"You think he'll pass?" he asked, linking his arm with mine and tugging me toward the hall.

"Not really, but maybe he'll surprise us. For all the studying we say we're doing while we're running around town, we don't actually have that many study dates."

"You know, you're right. We should fix that. Though I was thinking more along the lines of just you and me, instead of you, me, and Scott. Granted that conversation's still on my mind."

I elbowed him in the side with a grin. "Must you make everything about you? We're talking about how Scott will literally get held back if we don't help him get his grade up."

"Great. Scott has his needs, and I have mine."

My cheeks burned as I tried to stop from smiling. Stiles was smirking proudly, but even his cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment. He was still uncomfortable being so forward, but it was nice to watch him try.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Mr. Stilinski, but you could stand to have a higher chemistry grade too."

He groaned, throwing his head back. "Fine, then come over and we'll do both kinds of studying. But we—we should do that soon. Ish. Maybe."

"Lydia first," I said firmly, but my lips were still pulled into a smirk.

Stiles nodded with a grin. "Lydia first."

It was a little difficult to corner Lydia between the rest of our classes. Stiles and I had to sprint up and down the halls, trying to track her down without catching the attention of the principal, or Allison's mom, Erica, or Isaac, or Jackson. One of them always seemed to be around. As usual, school was proving to be a huge obstacle in our goal to save lives.

Finally, Stiles and I managed to catch Lydia on her own. I dashed up to her before we could lose her, nearly slamming her locker shut as I skidded to a halt next to her. "Hey, Lyd! What's up?"

"I don't know," she replied sniffily. "No one will tell me, remember?"

"Well…okay, yes, I do remember, but—but I gave you the flash drive, right?" I said hopefully. "Did you take a look at that?"

"No, Sadie, I did not take a look at it. Excuse me for not having time to translate five hundred pages of archaic Latin between English and Biology. Now if that's all—"

"Wait, wait, wait." I blocked her path to leave and endured her death glare as I continued. "We're going to tell you the truth, Lydia. I promised you that yesterday, and I don't plan on going back on it. You deserve to know."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, Sadie. I appreciate it, but no one else seems to care whether or not I'm clued in so—"

"Of course we do," Stiles chimed in, swooping into my side. "And she's right. You're right. Both of you are right! Yeah have a…a right to know what's going on."

"Seriously?" Lydia looked skeptically between us. "You're actually going to tell me?"

"Yes. I, Stiles Stilinski, swear to you that Sadie and I are going to tell you the truth."

"Great. Let's hear it."

Stiles and I looked at each other, then back to Lydia's expectant face.

"It's…okay, so we can't tell you at school," I said quickly, "but—but I promise! We both promise that all of us will get together after school and tell you. Me, Stiles, Allison, and Scott. All of us."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "Then I'll see you after school."

She pushed straight through us this time, marching down the hall so Stiles and I had to scramble to keep up with her.

"Wait!" Stiles called. "That's—we—we actually had something else to ask you!"

"Oh, of course," she replied, not even pausing in her stride. "More weird favors you need from me while you keep me in the dark? What do you need now, a broomstick? Unicorn blood? The sword of Gryffindor?"

"Okay, it's not a Harry Potter RPG," Stiles huffed, and I swatted him aside.

"Lydia, we just told you, we're done keeping you in the dark."

"Then tell me what's been going on."

"I—we will! After school!"

"Then I will help you with whatever you need after school."

"We need to know about Jackson's parents!" Stiles blurted.

I rounded on him and punched him in the shoulder. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Ow! Hey, I was—"

"Anyone could have heard—"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"What did you just say?"

Stiles and I paused our fight. If nothing else, it had gotten Lydia to stop. She was standing in the middle of the hallway and watching us curiously. She was so thrown by the change in subject that she didn't even look mad anymore.

"We…we need to know about Jackson's parents," Stiles repeated warily, this time keeping his voice low. "His real parents."

"What does Jackson have to do with any of this?"

"A lot more than he'd care to admit," I said bitterly. I took Lydia by the arm and tugged her to the side of the hall, lowering my voice even further. "Lydia, you already knew Jackson was involved. The weird conversations, the video, all his talk about the full moon. Remember when he disappeared from the study session? All of that is because of the same thing. And I promise that we will explain, but the longer this waits, the more trouble he could be in. We need to know."

She watched me carefully for a few seconds, glancing at Stiles a few times before she pursed her lips. "I can't tell you."

"W-what?" Stiles sputtered. "What do you mean you can't tell us?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that annoying?" She pouted at him, the anger back in place. "Does it bother you when people won't tell you things? I can't imagine how frustrated you must be. I'm so sorry."

"Lydia, please," I groaned. "We are going to tell you, but I need Scott—"

"I get it, whatever. You've made promises not to tell me about certain things without the consent of other parties. Well, so have I. I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

She stormed away again, the two of us hot on her heels.

"Come on," Stiles pleaded. "Anyone who ever says 'I'm not supposed to tell anyone' is always dying to tell someone. So tell me!"

Lydia shot him a look over her shoulder and Stiles threw his arms up in defeat.

"Okay, yes, you don't like me. But tell Sadie, at least."

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, turning her head back toward me.

"It's…we're trying to protect people."

"Yes, I understand that, Wonder Woman. How is knowing what happened to Jackson's parents going to help you protect people?"

"Because we—we want to understand Jackson, because if we understand him, then we can protect him."

"Protect him from who?"

"I…can't tell you that—yet!"

She huffed and picked up the pace of her stride. "Then I'm not telling you yet."

"But you are telling us that you could tell us something and that you will tell us something when you want to tell us something?"

Lydia scrunched up her nose at Stiles. "Was that a question?"

"It…it felt like a question…I think…"

"Well, tell me if this feels like an answer: no."

She sped up again, weaving between crowds of people in an effort to make it more difficult for us to tail her. It was an effective maneuver, which left Stiles and I chasing after her hallway after hallway. I knew annoying her would just make her more determined, but we didn't have a lot of options. I was almost starting to regret lecturing Jackson. He was an asshole, but if I'd played my cards right, he might've been more agreeable than Lydia.

"Lydia, come on!" Stiles called as we chased her onto the landing. "Ly—wait! Ow! Ah!"

For the second time that day, a flash of blonde distracted me from my thoughts. Erica seemed to materialize in front of me, shoving Stiles from my side and slamming him up against the wall. He cowered against the bricks as she leaned far too close to his face.

"Hey! Get off him!"

I stormed forward in a rage, not even pausing to think. I made a grab for her hair, but her free hand snatched my wrist out of the air, squeezing hard enough to bruise. I tried my best not to wince. She hadn't even looked back at me.

"Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson's real parents?" she asked quietly, leaning closer yet to Stiles's face.

He glanced between the hand she had around my wrist and the one she had on his chest. "Why are you bringing out the claws on camera, huh?"

Erica backed up an inch, turning around to stare reproachfully at the surveillance camera mounted on the wall behind her. The claws were gone in an instant and she dropped her hands back to her sides. Since the bite, she'd been violent and overly confident, but she wasn't quite that stupid. She wasn't going to hurt one of us when the hunter-principal was watching her every move.

Stiles rolled his shoulders back and stood up proudly. "Yeah, that's right. You wanna play Catwoman? I'll be your Batman."

He pushed past her to walk away, brushing past her raised eyebrows and pleased smirk. He was so satisfied with himself that he missed her expression—but I didn't.

"You know what? No."

Before she could blink, I slammed Erica back into the wall. She laughed in surprise, even when I pinned her arms to the bricks behind her. Stiles let out a yelp of surprise and alarm, but I barely heard him over my pulse rushing in my ears. I was not in the mood to deal with her coy bullshit today. I was done dealing with her, I was done dealing with Jackson, I was done dealing with the hunters, and I was seeing red.

"I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish with all your petty little games—creeping up on people and listening in and smirking and shoving your supernatural boob job in guys' faces—but I've had enough."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said innocently. "Am I making you jealous?"

"Jealous?" The word actually hurt in my stomach, like acid working at the walls. But just because the word felt right on my tongue didn't mean she had to know it. "Why would I be jealous?"

"You wouldn't be. Unless…you think I could actually take something you want."

Stiles appeared to my right, looking between Erica and I with concern, but too fearful to push us apart. His eyebrows were knit together in confusion, oblivious to the fact that the 'something' Erica was referring to was him. She was still snickering at me, enjoying the private joke.

I took a deep breath and pushed down my anger. I needed to control my heart rate. I would not give Erica the satisfaction of thinking she could take Stiles from me. She wouldn't. Allison and Scott were both sure of that, so I had to be sure of that. I had to have more faith in Stiles.

"Listen," I growled at Erica, "I got my friends without giving up my humanity to join a murder cult. To each his own. You've got your pack, and I've got mine. Just stay the fuck away from us."

"Hey," she said with a shrug, smirk still firmly in place. "He's the only one who made the Catwoman reference. Not me, sweetheart."

"R-reference?" Stiles stuttered. "I didn't—I mean, yes, there was a—a comparison, but that—that was very, very basic. You're a villain, I'm a good guy, 'I'm gonna stop you' and stuff. Not—not like the other Batman and Catwoman—I didn't mean like—"

"Stiles, shut up," I snapped.

"Yup, I'm done."

He stepped back again, leaving Erica and I to our standoff. She was still grinning, and for a moment, I wished I'd taken Peter's offer about the bite. Not because I wanted to keep Stiles, but because I wanted to rip Erica to shreds. I would have loved to intimidate her with my claws at that moment, wipe that infuriating smile off her face. I had to keep reminding myself that I didn't need the bite to fight back. I was already capable of being a threat when I wanted to be.

"Erica, if you want to go on playing up this forbidden Catwoman and Batman dynamic to piss me off, that's fine. You can be Selina. But you don't get to be Rachel."

"Ooh, very clever," she mocked with a pout. "Remind me. Isn't Rachel the one who gets uh…blown up?"

She laughed to herself for a few seconds, until she noticed that I was smiling too.

"That's real cute," I chuckled. "You want to base your argument on a comic book reference and then use the movie-verse as your source of canon? That's—that's actually adorable."

Erica's eyebrows sunk past their natural place, furrowing in confusion as she felt her advantage slipping away from her. My smile grew wider and I leaned in, ignoring the strange looks we were getting from passersby.

"Do some research, sweetheart. Rachel Caspian is one of the few love interests Bruce Wayne had who he was willing to give up the mask for. He was ready to hang up the cape and spend the rest of his life with her. You want to do a little flirting while you go around killing people? That's fine. But stop pretending to be something that you're not."

Erica shoved my hands off of her arms, something I realized she could have done a long time ago, before she realized she was losing at her own game. She was careful to keep herself from snarling, but I could see the yellow rings starting to glow in her eyes. I smiled, holding up my hands and taking a few steps back.

"Come on, Stiles. Let's go find Lydia."

I walked away without looking back, trusting Stiles to follow my lead. His sneakers squeaked on the tile as he scrambled after me, and a moment later, he fell into step behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him stare at me, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder at Erica. Finally, he spoke in a shaky voice.

"I—I honestly don't think I've ever been more attracted to you."

I rolled my eyes, but was unable to keep the proud grin off my face. Was it the best analogy? No, and I knew it. Had I been fighting with myself, I would have been able to poke a thousand holes in my own argument, but it'd been enough to beat Erica, and it'd been enough to impress Stiles. I didn't have to be jealous of Erica, no matter how close she got to Stiles's face. She was dangerous, she was gorgeous, but she wasn't what he wanted. I didn't have supernaturally good looks or superpowers. All I had was nerdy knowledge about fictional people with supernaturally good looks and superpowers—but that was all I needed.

"Hey!"

I paused in my stride, reluctantly turning back to find Erica standing unapologetically in the middle of the hallway, arms folded over her chest.

"If the two of you are wondering about Jackson's parents, they're about half a mile from here…in Beacon Hills Cemetery."

She smiled and, without another word, turned to make her way down the stairs. We watched her for a moment, stunned, but my shock quickly faded to annoyance.

"Do we really have to talk to her?"

"You got a better idea?" Stiles asked, resigned.

I didn't.

He grabbed my hand, tugging me along after him and lacing our fingers together as the game started up again. We chased Erica down the halls, hoping she might be more agreeable than Lydia had been.

"Okay! Wait!" Stiles called as we scampered up behind Erica. "Wait, wait, wait. Do you know how they died?"

"Maybe. If you tell me why you're so interested."

He paused, immediately looking to me for help.

"Blackmail," I supplied grumpily.

"Low blow," she laughed, "even for a bitch like you."

"Yeah, well I was all out of paralytic toxin to drug him, so I have to make do."

Erica snorted, then abruptly stopped walking. I almost collided with her leather jacket, and Stiles quickly pulled me back, like he was worried she might start swinging. But Erica hardly paid us any mind.

"Toxin," she muttered to herself, staring at the floor. "It's him, isn't it?"

"What?" Stiles asked quickly. "Who? Him who?"

"The test didn't work, but it's still him. It's Jackson."

Erica started off down the hallway again, each stride with more determination than her last. Stiles and I exchanged a horrified look and took off after her again.

"Great, so you figured it out," I spat, trying to downplay her massive realization. "You want a prize or something?"

"I wouldn't mind a little respect, bitch." I'd expected her to be laughing, but her voice was stone cold with resolve. "Unless you have some claws you're hiding, I'm the one about to dispatch your problem and save the town. You couldn't do that between the four of you, could you?"

"What?" Stiles choked out. "D-do you have a glorified death wish or something? Are you seriously stupid enough to try and take on Jackson on your own?"

"No, but three betas and an Alpha are going to do a lot better than one omega and three humans."

"Erica, cut the crap," I ordered, taking longer strides to draw level with her. "The Argents have information going back centuries and even they don't know how to kill him. What makes you think you can?"

"Because the Argents are human, and we have an Alpha," she said, laughing at the simplicity of it all.

I laughed too, but with a sharp edge that cut the amusement right off her face.

"If you're not scared of the Argents just because they're human, then you're stupider than I thought you were. Derek is scared of them, and he's scared of the kanima too. Being an Alpha doesn't make him some all-powerful leader. There are loads of Alphas. All it means is that he killed one of them."

"And?" Erica widened her strides again, trying to outstrip me, but no quite managing it. "Doesn't that prove his strength?"

"Right. It took a lot of strength for him to take down Peter, after Allison, Stiles, and I set him on fire. We watched him slit his uncle's throat right before he croaked. We were there, okay? Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be hero-worshipping him."

If she tried to hide the stutter in her step, she failed. Clearly, there were some things about his past Derek had decided not to share with his pack. It was probably a good idea too, since he was demanding unwavering loyalty from a bunch of fickle teenagers. I trusted Derek on some things, but I wasn't about to leave the kanima to him. It would just get more people killed.

"It's not worship," Erica snapped at me, fighting to recover her façade. "It's trust. You won't kill Jackson, and you already said the Argents don't know how. Derek will take care of it."

"You can't tell Derek, okay?" Stiles called. I could hear him tripping over himself in an effort to keep up, and he tried as best as he could to stick his head between us. "There's a lot more to this that you don't know about, and just because you got the Alpha-bite-makeover doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

"Why not?" Erica stopped short and whirled around, glaring at Stiles as he slid to a halt. "That's all anyone used to do to me."

"Erica," I sighed, but all it did was give her a target for her rage.

"No! No, you don't get to tell me what to do, Sadie! You don't get to tell me that the way they destroyed me was different! I still could have died, okay? Their methods are just crueler and slower."

"I'm not saying they were right! I'm saying this isn't right either!"

Erica snarled. In the blink of an eye, she was shoving me back, sending me stumbling back into the wall. She advanced again, ready to punch me or even worse, but Stiles slid in front of me.

"Hey! Back off! Sadie never did anything to you!"

"Oh no, of course not! Not precious Sadie. No, she could never do anything wrong. She's just so fucking perfect."

Erica's voice was sickly sweet, but it trembled with every word. Her whole body seemed to shake as Stiles stepped back toward me, arms out to keep me behind him. Erica followed us, angrier and angrier with each step.

"You know, I used to have the worst crush in the world on you, Stiles. Ha! Yeah, you, Stiles. You didn't even know who I was until they made me your lab partner. I actually used to look forward to Bio, just so I had the chance to talk to you! It meant doing all the work while you stared at Lydia Fucking Martin, but honestly? I was okay with that. I was okay watching you pine after her, with her little short skirts and her jacked up lacrosse-captain boyfriend. She treated you like shit, and you just smiled and asked for more. I guess—I guess I thought that you'd have to get sick of it eventually. You'd grow up, get over your little grade school crush, and I'd be there, just one chair over. But then—then you came along."

I took another step back as Erica turned her eyes on me. There was so much anger in her voice, I actually expected her eyes to be glowing gold. Instead they were plain brown, shining with unshed tears. I almost would've preferred her to attack me.

"Perfect Sadie Bennet with your perfect little smile and your perfect little laugh. And you were all the good parts of Lydia with an actual human soul. I thought nothing could be worse than watching him trail after Lydia, but you know what? I was wrong. You two are—you're so much worse. I just had to watch you get together from the background. I spent all year watching you get closer and closer and then—then at formal you told me! You knew that I liked him and—and even after that I was just a goddamn set piece! Watching you two together has been one of the worst experiences in my life, and it's like you never even bothered to notice me. Exactly how you're not noticing me right now!"

I instantly frowned in confusion. I'd certainly been paying attention to her rant, and I had the uneasy knot of guilt in my stomach as proof, but Erica wasn't looking at me. She was staring at Stiles with exasperated eyes, eyes that were still watery despite her rage.

Stiles, however, was staring at the floor. There was a pool of water forming beneath us, seeping out from one of the doors in the hallway. I had just enough time to read the words "boys locker room" on the wall before the door flew open, and Scott came tumbling out onto the floor.

I yelped in surprise, but the sound was masked by Scott's groan of pain. Jackson appeared from the depths of the locker room, leaping on top of Scott and trying to throttle him. Stiles, Erica and I jumped into action to drag the boys apart. It was easier said than done, since both of them had supernatural strength and a fiery temper. It took both Stiles and me to hold Scott back while Erica pinned Jackson to the opposite wall.

In seconds, the hallway was filled with people coming to watch the commotion. Stiles was trying to talk Scott down. Jackson grunted as he tried to free himself from Erica's grasp. Allison ran out of the locker room, but was smart enough to keep her distance from the fight. Students were giggling at the end of the hall, and then one of my least favorite voices of all rose above the clamor.

"What the hell's going on? Hey! Enough!"

If I'd had the strength, I would have groaned. As it was, there was nothing I could do but continue to hold Scott down as Mr. Harris stalked down the hallway.

"Enough! What do you idiots think you're doing?! Jackson! Calm down!"

There was another grunt as Jackson finally gave up his attempt to murder Scott, though he was still rigid in Erica's arms. Scott stopped fighting as well, breathing heavily and pushing his wet hair out of his face. Stiles and I sighed in relief, an emotion that evaporated the moment Harris continued.

"Mr. McCall, you wanna explain yourself? Stilinski?"

We all exchanged dark looks, unable to come up with a good excuse. I didn't have any plausible explanations to get us off the hook, just a long list of snappy remarks about how obvious Harris's favoritism was. I managed to keep those to myself, but I was just delaying the inevitable.

"Uh, you dropped this."

I looked up to see that Matt Daehler had joined the party too, holding out Allison's tablet. I wanted to leap forward and grab it, but Harris got there first. He seized it and used it as a pointer to pick out the guilty in his fury.

"You and you," he started, gesturing to Jackson and Scott. Then, Satan got a better idea, and waved his hand to everyone in the hall, from Matt to Stiles. "Actually, all of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

Matt held his hands up in disbelief, but no one else had the energy to protest. So much for not getting ourselves detentions on top of restraining orders…

A/N: Hi again! Sorry for the delay with this update. Remember how I said I started a new job? Well, I started a new new job, so I've been adapting. So sorry for the delay, but there's more to come!