I usually loved spending time with my mother. I usually loved getting to take a break with her for our movie nights. I usually loved watching Jurassic Park. But things were quickly getting less usual in Beacon Hills, and I probably shouldn't have been surprised that movie nights were not excluded.

"Clever girl," Robert Muldoon said from the screen, moments before the raptor attacked.

There was a flash of green as the reptile launched itself at him, ablur of scales and teeth and death. A fern leaf had been precariously placed in frame to cover most of the action, but it didn't do much to hide the carnage. You could still see the sharp fangs, the lethal claws, the whipping tail. You could still hear the screaming as the man was torn to pieces, the hissing, the crunch of bone…

"Sadie?"

I blinked at the screen, paused on the close up of the raptor's face. The yellow eye stared back at me, and I realized I hadn't been watching the movie at all. I flexed my fingers out of the fist they'd been clenched into and glanced down at the red crescents my nails had left in my palm.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mom asked again, and I forced myself to smile.

"Yeah, fine. Brutal death is all. I like it better when the lawyer gets eaten."

I hoped that if I could keep a straight face, she might not notice the tremor in my voice. Clearly, that was a lost hope.

"Sadie…" Her voice was alarmingly gentle, and she placed the remote back on the table without restarting the movie. "Talk to me."

"Mom, seriously, I'm fine. Can we just—"

"Please stop saying you're fine!" Her shrill tone took us both by surprise, and she gritted her teeth in an attempt to regain composure. "Sadie, you have been going through so much. Getting attacked, almost losing Lydia, winding up at all those crime scenes…"

"I don't want to talk about this now."

"Well, that's too bad, Sadie, because we need to. We need to have this conversation. I know it's hard for you, but not knowing what's going on with you is driving me insane. I lost your father, and now I feel like I'm losing you too. You realize you haven't come to therapy with me once since your formal? Now, when we both need it most?"

I sank back into the couch in shame. It felt like a low blow, but I knew it was true. All of the supernatural issues in town were slowly peeling me away from my mother, someone I'd literally spent almost every day of my life with. I knew that growing up meant spending less time with her, but not like this. I was changing faster than she'd expected, faster than even I could comprehend, and I knew it had to be just as confusing for her as it was for me.

"Mom, you're…you're not losing me. There's just…there's been a lot going on, and I've been busy. Frazzled."

"Most people don't get three detentions for being frazzled."

"I told you, the detentions weren't my fault! I was standing up for my friends!"

"While they were trying to beat each other up?"

"Scott was defending himself! Jackson's a creep and they were fighting, yes. You want me to stand by and watch my friends get hurt?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt," she said emphatically. "You're my baby, and I can't take watching you in pain. And don't try to tell me that you're not. I raised you, Sadie, and I like to think that I know you. I just wish that you'd talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

It was weak at best. Mom pursed her lips, taking in the way I ducked my head and twisting my fingers together in my lap. I could feel her slight hesitation, sensed the question on her lips and answered it before she could ask.

"This isn't about Dad."

"What?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I know what you're thinking. The detentions, the crime scenes, the staying out with my friends is all me acting out from losing Dad. And it's not."

"That's actually not what I was thinking, but it's good to know."

Her eyes dropped to the surface of the coffee table, still in thought. Honestly, that scared me almost as much as the velociraptor had. Anything that took this much preparation to say couldn't be good. I knew that more than anyone.

I'd spent a lot of time thinking about how I had to lie to my mother to keep everyone safe. I wasn't so sure that she was safer not knowing about the supernatural, but I was convinced that knowing would scare her. She would be scared for me, and the next moment I'd either be locked in my room or packing my bags for a different country. I couldn't afford to let my mom know because I couldn't afford to leave Beacon Hills undefended. I knew that Stiles would still be here, and Scott, Allison, Derek, but we worked as a team. I didn't want to abandon them to save my own skin. Or maybe it was just that I didn't want to feel abandoned myself.

"How are things with Stiles?"

I looked over at my mom, brows knit together in confusion. That certainly hadn't been what I was expecting.

"Um…fine?"

She nodded, but didn't meet my eye. "So you…you still feel good about each other?"

"Yes? What kind of a question is that?"

"Well, it's just…you know how much I like Stiles. But sometimes, the people we like don't turn out to be the people we thought they were. And you might not realize it until later, or even if you do feel okay, sometimes…the people we love aren't good for us."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sadie, I'm just worried that—"

"No, Mom!" I could feel my insides shriveling as her concern processed in my head. All I was left with was a blind, defensive rage. "This—this isn't about Stiles! Stiles isn't making me do anything! This isn't his fault!"

"I'm not trying to blame him."

"Really?! Cause that's exactly what it sounds like. I'm the one getting into trouble, and you wanna blame one of the only people helping me through it? Stiles has done nothing but help me! He saved my life!"

"What?"

I winced as my brain caught up to my mouth.

"Not—not literally. You know what I mean. This whole year has been—it's been shit, and Stiles is one of the only things holding me together. He is not holding me back."

"Is there really a restraining order against him?"

"…What?"

"Sadie, I work at home, but I'm not a recluse," she said stiffly. "I do have friends, and I do talk to people. Is it true that Jackson filed a restraining order against Stiles and Scott for harassment and attempted abduction?"

I pursed my lips and hid my face in my hands for a moment. I fought to think of a halfway explanation, something that would convince her to drop the subject, to stop insinuating that something was wrong with my friends, but all I could come up with was, "Look, Jackson's an asshole."

"Sadie, I don't care! He might've broken up with Lydia, and I am not excusing the way he's handled it, but that does not mean you and your friends can treat him like that! Stiles stole police property so he could lock Jackson up, and for what? Fun? Do you have any idea how serious that is?"

"Yes, Mom! I understand perfectly! I understand what's going on with Stiles, and I understand what's going on with me! You don't understand!"

I pushed myself to my feet and stormed out of the room, but Mom was right on my heels.

"Then explain it to me! Because you're right. Right now, all I see is my daughter's life spiraling out of control because of the friends she made, because I moved us to this stupid town where there are murders every other week, because I didn't know what to do with myself after I lost her father! After we lost your father!"

I came to a stop in the hall, clenching my eyes shut with my hands over my mouth. Mom and I had done our fair share of fighting since Dad passed away. We each found ways to blame ourselves, and took turns trying to overprotect or escape from each other; it was a weird mixture of feelings to be both smothered and neglected. Things had gotten better over time, so slowly that I hadn't even noticed until I looked back on it. Mom had reached out to her friends, we'd started therapy together, I'd stopped lashing out. The move to Beacon Hills had healed us both, given us the support we needed to start becoming ourselves again. My support system had just turned out a little different than my mom's. And now it was starting to crumble.

"I'm sorry," she said from a few steps behind me. "I know how important your friends are to you. I'm just—"

"Worried. I know."

I took a deep breath and turned around. Mom had her hands on her hips, her hair hanging down in front of her face. It blocked her expression, but I didn't need to see it to pick up on the exhaustion, the sense of defeat. I didn't want to fight her any more than she wanted to fight me, but I had my reasons. I needed to keep my friends safe, keep everyone safe.

"I know that things have been…weird lately," I offered, taking a few steps forward. "And I'm sorry. The animal attacks and the murders have everyone on edge and…it's just getting hard on everyone. Lydia's been out of it ever since formal, and Allison and her family are still struggling because of Kate. Scott hasn't gotten to talk to his mom because she's been putting in overtime at the hospital, and Stiles…this whole thing is really hard on the sheriff. Things haven't been the same between them either. I…Stiles is important to me. And that's all that matters."

"I understand that, Sadie. But a restraining—"

"I'm not totally sure what's going on." I forced the excuse out of my mouth, even though it felt like dragging nails up my throat. "I don't know if—if they're acting out for attention or what. What I do know is that my friends are good people. They're not malicious, and they don't deserve to be going through everything that they are. We all need each other, and I'm not gonna abandon them. Any of them."

My mother stared at me for a few seconds, not bothering with words. She almost seemed surprised, like she suddenly wasn't quite sure who she was looking at. I was familiar enough with that feeling. I hadn't felt like myself since the day Lydia, Jackson, and I had been attacked at the video store. Or maybe that wasn't the best way to describe it. I hadn't felt like my same self. I was still trying to figure this Sadie out—what she wanted and what she was capable of—but she was still me. I wanted to ask what my mother thought, but I couldn't seem to find the words I needed.

Mom pursed her lips and nodded. "I know you love them, sweetie. I just want to make sure that you're making the best decisions for yourself."

"I…I'm making the best decisions I can."

She considered my carefully chosen words with a tight-lipped smile. Before she could reply, a soft humming noise cut through the air. I pulled my phone from my pocket, and felt my stomach slip a little farther down amidst my organs.

"Update. Call me ASAP."

"It's Stiles," I offered softly, lifting the phone.

"Speak of the devil."

I didn't miss the hurt in her voice, which seemed to stab at me repeatedly.

"I'm just gonna call him. Then maybe we can finish the movie?"

"Whatever you want, Sadie. I'll be in my office. Let me know."

"Mom—"

"It's fine, Sadie. Talk to Stiles. I'm not going anywhere."

She gave me a smile that managed to make me feel even worse about myself. It wasn't vindictive or hostile. It was just sad. It clung to her face as she brushed past me toward her office, and slipped off right before she was out of my sight.

I bit back a groan, holding a hand to my forehead. This was not what I had signed up for when I had agreed to help Scott with his supernatural issues. I'd known I'd have to lie to my mother, that I was going to feel guilty, but I hadn't stopped to think about what would happen when she noticed something was wrong. I hadn't stopped to think about much of anything.

I trudged up to my room, blindly dialing Stiles's number and raising the phone to my ear. I didn't have to wait long for an answer. I could almost picture him fumbling to press accept as fast as he could without dropping the phone.

"Hey! Good! That was fast! What's up?"

"Nothing. What's the update?"

"Whoa, wait, no, hang on. What's wrong?"

"I told you, it's nothing."

"Well yeah, that's what you told me, but that's not what your voice says. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm…fine. It's nothing. What's going on with you? What's the update?"

"Sadie…"

I could hear the hesitation. I knew he didn't want to abandon the subject of my wellbeing, but he seemed to know that I wasn't going to let him get anywhere.

"Come on, Stiles. Please tell me it's good news."

"I guess that depends on your definition of good," he said, giving into the subject change. "On the bright side, Dad and I think we found a pattern to the murders. Downside is, I don't know if it's going to help us stop them."

"Well that's closer than we were before. What've you got?"

"So dad was looking over the murder victims again, trying to find a match. So far, we've got Lahey, the mechanic—well, the hunter, not that Dad knows about that, because the Argents nicked his body—the guy on the preserve, and then his wife."

I grimaced flopping back on my bed. The last one had been rough to find out. Isaac had been the one who told me about the couple who was attacked outside their trailer. Then, he'd said that the wife was hospitalized, but that she'd been left alive. Apparently, that had been a fluke. A few days later, we'd found out that the wife had died in her room, apparently suffocated. It just left us with more questions than we'd had before.

"Okay, and?" I prompted, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, one thing. They were all the exact same age: twenty-four."

"Except Isaac's dad. Unless you're about to drop a seriously disturbing truth bomb on me."

"You're perfect. No, Lahey wasn't twenty-four, but I'll tell you someone who was. Isaac's older brother."

"Wait, Isaac has an older brother?"

"Had. Died in combat a few years ago."

I felt the small sliver of hope that had wedged in my chest melt into nothing once more.

"Because Isaac doesn't have it hard enough," I sighed. "He lost his mom and then he had to lose his brother too. That's just…goddamnit…"

"I know. But if Camden Lahey was alive? He'd be twenty-four, just like the rest of them."

"Okay, so what do we do with that? I doubt twenty-four is the only motive this guy has to have people paralyzed and shred to pieces."

"I'm getting there. After I…heavily insinuated that my dad should tell me about the ages, we started looking through class rosters and yearbooks. All the kids were in the same chemistry class, with Harris."

"That's awesome! Well, I mean, obviously not, but if you're right, that cuts prospective victims down to like, twenty."

"Yeah, Dad's getting the class roster checked out now. Plus, I just spoke to Scott? He was tailing Jackson tonight and apparently he bought a ticket to this weird, underground-y, techno shindig tomorrow night. I don't know a lot about Jackson's music taste, but I'm willing to bet that if he was buying tickets to a concert, right now? With everything else going on?"

"Then someone's making him," I finished. "So I guess we can assume his next target is gonna be there tomorrow night."

"Yeah. This is what I meant when I said it depends on your definition of good."

I grinned up at my ceiling, hugging my knees up to my chest. "I don't know about you, Stiles, but using badass detective skills to identify a serial killer's pattern and scouting out an attack before something bad happens is definitely something I consider good news. You did really good."

"It's just Dad and Scott. And don't jinx it, because they might not be right. The only thing I'm detecting is that funk in your voice. What're you up to?"

Of course, he wasn't going to let me off the hook. I wasn't having that kind of night.

"Not much now. I was trying to watch Jurassic Park with my mom, but…well. That didn't really go according to plan."

"Sounds like your mom and my dad are probably on the same page, then."

"Yeah. Guess neither of us are winning any 'best offspring' awards any time soon," I said bitterly. Stiles snorted on the other end, and I frowned. "What?"

"Did you seriously just say offspring?"

"Shut up. You don't watch your step, you won't be winning any 'best boyfriend' awards either."

"What? I was laughing because you're funny! Why is that bad?"

"Thin ice, Stilinski. Thin ice."

I could just hear his breath of laughter on the other end of the line. The sound helped spark the smirk on my face again. I stared into space, savoring the brief moment of happiness, but Stiles wasn't done just yet.

"We're gonna be okay, you know. We'll catch whoever this master guy is, talk to our parents, cure Jackson. Or lock him in a box and smash him pieces, you know. Whichever one ends up working. But we'll get it. Promise."

"You know, maybe I can make an exception with that 'best boyfriend' award…" Stiles laughed again, stoking my smirk into a full on smile. I rubbed my thumb over the back of my phone and bit my lip. "Thanks, Stiles."

"You got it, Bennet. I'll meet up with you tomorrow?"

"It's a date."

I smiled as I ended the call, determined to keep his words of encouragement in mind. They might not have seemed like much, but they were all I had to get me through the life that, at the moment, seemed to be falling apart. They were all I had when Mom weakly decided that she was too busy with work to watch the rest of Jurassic Park with me. They were all I had when Lydia came home and outright ignored me, wandering past with glassy eyes and humming an odd tune to herself. They were all I had when I finally fell asleep, and my dreams were plagued with the image of Kate's dead body, which changed to the mechanic's, and finally Peter's withered and scorched corpse.

Stiles kindly drove me to school the next morning, pulling up at my house before I'd even called to tell him that Lydia had left before I woke up. He didn't ask for a word of explanation as I shuffled out of the house with my eyes cast down to the pavement. He just hopped out of the Jeep and opened the passenger door for me, kissed my temple, then jumped back in the car. He held my hand all the way to the McCall house so we could pick up Scott, who insisted on letting me ride shotgun. By the time he'd climbed into the back and all three of us were crammed into the car, I felt a little more prepared for the long Friday ahead of us.

"So Derek wanted to bring the rest of his pack tonight," Scott said, once we were back on the road.

"Dude, seriously?" Stiles groaned. "Can't we have one night without the were-musketeers? I thought we were trying to keep Jackson and everyone else in the vicinity alive."

"We are, but we're still gonna need help controlling him. If Jackson shifts, the three of us aren't gonna be able to stop him from hurting anyone. I guess it's safer this way."

"Safer," Stiles grumbled moodily, slumping in his seat. "Right. Whatever. I still hate them."

"That's why it's called a compromise, Stiles." I laced my fingers between his with a wry smile. "You don't have to like it. You just have to recognize that it's necessary."

"Ha, easy for you to say. Erica didn't punch you in the face with your starter and then throw you in a dumpster."

"Well, if she touches you again, I'll pull her claws off one by one with pliers, truce or not."

Stiles grinned, sitting up in his seat with an oddly proud smile. "You should get protective more often. It's kinda scary in a very sexy way."

"You two are gross," Scott groaned from the backseat.

"O-oh, really? Oh, I'm gross? This coming from the dude moaning his girlfriend's name in his sleep the last three times I've crashed at his house. The last three, consecutive times, Scott!"

"Hey! I can't help my subconscious!"

"Well, hearing Allison's name that late at night is very confusing to my anatomy. If you dealt with your issues while you were awake, I wouldn't have to hear about your girlfriend while you're asleep."

"We are dealing with it," Scott said with a shit-eating grin.

I snorted as Stiles fake gagged. "Guys, could we maybe stay on topic?"

"Thank you," Stiles agreed, pulling into the parking lot. "So if Derek is so intent on adding three more to the party, how is he planning on getting them tickets?"

"No idea," Scott sighed. "He just told me to worry about myself and he'd take care of his pack."

"I thought the whole point of this was that you were his pack."

"Yeah, well apparently he doesn't want financial custody."

"Well, you were at the ticket sales last night, right?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "Why didn't you just grab them then?"

"For one, they stopped selling tickets. I'm pretty sure Jackson scared the woman off. Two, I didn't have a spare two hundred and twenty five dollars to buy tickets for us."

"You know, I really, really hate Derek sometimes," Stiles hissed. "Seventy five dollars so we can try and catch Jackson. This is stupid."

"Probably more if tickets aren't being sold anymore," I added as we parked. "We're gonna have to buy them off someone."

I hopped out of the Jeep, offering Scott a hand as he clambered over the seat with a look of concentration. "There's got to be some other way to get tickets, right?"

"It's a secret show," Stiles complained. "There's only one way, and it's a secret."

"Hey!" The three of us paused at the intrusion, and I was less than pleased to find Matt walking over from the bike rack. "You guys know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day?"

"Because the high school disciplinary system is a failure and they're drowning in pink slips as it is?" I suggested flatly.

Stiles stepped up next to me and slung an arm over my shoulder. He too was glaring at Matt. "Just forget about it. Nobody got hurt."

"I had a concussion," Matt informed him.

"Well, nobody got seriously hurt."

"I was in the ER for six hours."

"Okay, do you wanna know the truth, Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now!"

Stiles leaned down, holding his hand two inches from the pavement and somehow maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. I wasn't quite able to suppress my snort of amusement. Scott gave us each a pointed look before turning to Matt.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now," he replied, with a glare at me and Stiles. "So you didn't get any tickets last night either."

Scott shook his head. "Are they still selling?"

"Uh, no, but I managed to find two online. You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone' gonna be there."

He grinned at Scott and backed away, pausing just long enough to give me and Stiles another dirty look. I glowered at him as he retreated.

"Too bad it was just a concussion."

Scott groaned beside me, giving me a disappointed-father look. "Do you really have to do that?"

"I'm with Sadie," said Stiles, tightening his arm around me. "I don't like him."

Scott shook his head at us at started to walk away, but Stiles caught him at the last second.

"Hey, are you sure about this? The whole club thing?"

"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody because he didn't finish the job. What do you think he's gonna do this time?"

"Be there to make sure it happens," Stiles answered reluctantly. "But do we really have to buy tickets? Can't we just like, stake out the entrances or something? Break a back door with our supernatural powers again? Because I would really love an alternative to emptying my bank account!"

"And what happens if we get caught?" Scott pointed out.

"Then we leave it to Derek's pack! He didn't seem to have a problem shelling out money for their tickets."

"So now you trust them to deal with Jackson?" I asked, making him pout.

"I don't trust them! I—stop twisting my words! I'm trying to be fiscally responsible! Your birthday's coming up!"

"We need those tickets," Scott said with finality. "We'll figure something out. Come on, we have to get to practice."

He walked away before Stiles could argue the point further. Stiles whined and turned to me with a pleading expression, but I quickly held up my hands.

"Hey, don't look at me. I don't need Coach on my ass for telling you to skip practice."

"Oh, come on. You can't actually expect me to go play lacrosse right now."

"I can and I will. Go on. You and Scott keep thinking of ideas for tickets. Maybe you can ask Isaac for help."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you trying to make this harder for me?"

"Stop being so dramatic," I laughed, turning to wrap my arms around his neck. "At least ask Danny. If he doesn't have extra tickets, he should be able to point us in the right direction."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

He kissed my cheek and backed up, but I didn't release him. I pulled him back to me, taking him by surprise when I kissed him full on the mouth. His hands fell to my waist, and he pouted when I pulled back a few seconds later.

"I'll see you later," I echoed, and kissed him on the cheek for good measure.

I had to physically shove Stiles toward the locker room after that, then made my way toward my locker. Hopefully we'd get some help from Danny. He wasn't exactly Stiles's biggest fan, but if he wouldn't talk to the boys, then I would try and talk to him before math. I'd beg on my knees if I had to. Danny pretty much had to give us something, because if he didn't, we were fresh out of ideas.

"You reek of your boyfriend."

I jumped, though I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to find someone waiting at my locker. It seemed like it was becoming a trend.

"Good morning to you too, Erica," I said shortly, waving her out of the way so I could get to my books. "A pleasure, as always."

She grinned in a slightly predatory way, but stepped aside. "Relax, I'm here for business, not pleasure."

She reached into the back pocket of her skinny jeans and pulled out a small strip of paper, holding it up for me to inspect. I frowned at her.

"What's that?"

"Oh, I thought it might be fun for us to go to a Bieber concert together. It's a rave ticket, dumbass. Special delivery from Derek. And before you ask, no, he didn't buy for Scott and Stiles. Apparently you get special treatment."

"I don't think I should be—"

"So you have another option?"

I pursed my lips and stared at the ticket. I wasn't totally comfortable with Derek buying for me. Part of me felt like he was trying to buy my forgiveness after everything that had happened with Lydia, but I knew that Erica was right. Danny was my friend, but it was doubtful he'd have a spare ticket to give me, let alone three. I didn't want to abandon Scott and Stiles, but it was better for one of us to have a way in than wait until the last minute and find out that none of us did. If I needed to, I could always pass it off to Scott.

I reached for the ticket, but Erica quickly pulled it up and out of my reach. "Not so fast. There's a delivery fee."

"Derek's into negotiation now?"

"Not his. Mine." I raised a suspicious eyebrow and her smirk grew wider. "I'm gonna give you this ticket, and you're gonna invite me over to get ready after school."

"W-what?" I blanched, more horrified than I'd been when she was seizing. "No!"

"Please, Sadie. You wanted a truce, right? I'm trying to make an effort here."

She gave me a sugary smile, and the false sincerity sent up a red flag in my head. I folded my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at her.

"What do you get out of it?"

She rolled her eyes, mirroring my posture with an air of reluctance. "I need a break from the wolf den. There's only so much testosterone a girl can take, especially when it's supernaturally enhanced. Plus, I don't trust your ability to blend in at a rave. You need serious help."

"This coming from the girl who wore jeans and a sweatshirt every day until this year. I can handle myself. Lydia's given me makeovers before."

"Yeah, which made you an insufferable prep. Rave fashion is a little more…eclectic, loud, sexy, and I don't see you pulling that from your closet." I opened my mouth to argue, but Erica held up a hand. "That's my offer. Take it or find your own ticket."

"Right," I scoffed. "And what's Derek gonna do when he finds out you didn't give it to me?"

"Hm, probably get all angsty and pouty because you were too mad at him to take his offering."

She held the ticket up with a victorious grin, on that made my stomach twist into a tiny ball of defeat. I forced my annoyance down and seized the ticket, grabbed my books from my locker, and shoved the whole mess into my bag.

"Scott, Stiles, and I have to meet after school to figure out the plan, but you can come after that. I'll let you know when I'm on my way."

"Good. I think we could use a girls night."

She took the liberty of slamming my locker shut, narrowly missing my hand. She smirked and marched off without another word, leaving me confused and a little bit uncomfortable to say the least.

The whole exchange had been baffling. On the one hand, it probably wouldn't kill me to hang out with Erica for a night, and it was nice that I didn't have to pay seventy-five dollars to play Good Samaritan and stop a murder. I hadn't been putting in much time at the library, for obvious reasons, and my pocket change was starting to dwindle. I appreciated Derek's attempt at helping, but it didn't sit right with me. It felt like another instance in a long line that had excluded me from my friends, tried to "help" me by making me abandon them.

I thought fleetingly of Jackson's free pass on the restraining order, then banished the thought. Derek wasn't Jackson. On some level, no matter how much we disagreed, Derek actually cared about me. He was trying to apologize for his rash actions with Lydia, something he didn't feel he needed to apologize to Scott and Stiles for. I had to believe that he would honor our compromise to work as a team. He had to.

I was a little worried that Stiles and Scott would be mad that I'd taken the ticket, but for once, they didn't seem to mind. Isaac had beaten the crap out of two kids to secure tickets for them, so no one would be left behind. They were, however, a little concerned about Erica.

"What do you mean she's coming over?" Stiles asked as we piled into the Jeep at the end of the day, finally free of the security cameras watching from every angle. "Like, what exactly does she expect you to be doing?"

"I don't know," I sighed, slouching in the backseat so Scott could ride shotgun. "Just getting ready for the rave, I guess. She didn't exactly give me an itinerary."

"Getting ready for what, though?" asked Scott. "I mean, we're going to stop Jackson. We're getting the supplies from Deaton now, going over the plan. What else do you need to do?"

"Oh, Scott," I sighed. "You poor, naïve, little puppy dog. Maybe you and Stiles can get away without changing your clothes, but Erica and I cannot. A rave is a very specific kind of scene, and if we don't look the part, we'll look that much more suspicious. We don't want to stand out at a party that could become another crime scene. Not with our track record."

Scott nodded, understanding the point but still looking defeated at the thought of failure. I reached out to ruffle his hair, and he smacked my hand away with a feeble smile. "So what is a 'rave look'?"

"From what I hear, a lot of bright colors. Or uh…a lot of different bright colors. Risqué? To quote Erica, uh 'loud and sexy.'"

"You know, maybe it's not so bad that Erica's coming over," Stiles said immediately. "Like rave camouflage. I think you should try to look as rave-y as possible. Like, really embrace the culture."

I rolled my eyes and smacked him upside the head. "Horndog. Honestly though, I think she's just lonely. As much as I dislike her, it's got to suck living with Derek, Isaac, and Boyd all the time. She's the only girl, and they haven't really got anyone else to talk to. So yeah, we're stopping Jackson, but I think they're also hoping they might get a few minutes to enjoy themselves."

"Well, I think it's good you're hanging out with her." Scott smiled with a pride that lit up his face. "We're gonna need to get along if we're gonna work together, and you're really good at that. Sometimes we need new friends."

"Speak for yourself," Stiles snorted. "I'm all set with the friends I have."

He held up a hand so I could high-five him from the back seat, then held his fist out to Scott for a bump. Scott stared at him flatly, until Stiles reluctantly lowered his hand.

"Speaking of seeing other people," Scott continued, turning back to me, "how long have you known about Allison and Matt?"

He didn't seem upset, just curious, but the question still made me grimace; I hated being caught in a lie.

"She…I'm sorry, Scott. Allison told me a few days ago, but she was waiting for the right time to tell you. For the record, I told her I was totally against it. Obviously."

"No, it's fine. I actually told her…it was okay. With her parents on our case, it's probably better for her to give other people a chance."

"Matt is not people," Stiles grumbled. "He is a conniving little weirdo and I don't like him."

Scott ignored the outburst. Clearly, Stiles had already made his opinion on the date well known, and Scott wasn't looking to hear it again.

"Did she tell you what they have planned?"

"Unfortunately, no," I huffed. "She seemed to be laboring under the impression that I was going to sabotage on your behalf, and she wanted to have a normal date for once. She wouldn't tell me the time or place, just in case I got any ideas."

Scott nodded, then looked hesitantly back at me. "You wouldn't actually do that, would you?"

"You bet your sweet ass I would," I said with a grin.

We pulled up outside the animal clinic a few minutes later, and Scott took the lead as we headed inside. The bell rang on the door, just as it had the last time I'd visited, but this time, it caught Deaton's attention immediately. He looked up from his paperwork with an expectant smile, already moving toward the gate to let us into the back.

"Good afternoon. Stiles, Sadie, always a pleasure to see you."

"Uh, yeah. You too," Stiles said with an awkward nod.

I got the feeling he still wasn't crazy about Deaton and his supernatural knowledge. He was our best option at the moment, and seemed to be on our side, but it was hard to accept help when you weren't sure where the intel was coming from. Stiles had never let go of the unexplained incident at the school last semester, when we'd been convinced that Deaton could be the Alpha. Honestly, I couldn't blame him.

I tried to make up for his lackluster greeting with a warm smile, but Deaton didn't seem all that bothered. He followed us into the back room, going about his business and rummaging in his cabinets.

"I suppose it's in poor taste to ask how you're all enjoying school?"

"Maybe a bit," Scott offered with a smile.

"Of course. Sadie, how is Lydia?"

I bit the automatic response of "fine" off my tongue before it could form.

"Worse. Terrible, actually, but still not a werewolf as far as I can tell. I'm…still not sure what's going on, and she's not giving me any answers…or any interaction at all, really…"

"I'm sorry." His face grew solemn as he approached the table, laying out some supplies, but never breaking my gaze. "I was afraid that might be the case. I've been reading extensively on her condition, but without more information, the reaction is hard to gauge. I haven't found what I consider to be a plausible explanation yet, going off what you've told me."

"Wait, you've been to Deaton?" Stiles asked sharply.

"Uh, yeah," I said guiltily. "A few weeks ago."

"Sadie came to me after Lydia went missing from the hospital, out of concern for her wellbeing. Something I suggest you all start doing in the future. I'm very willing to help when I can, but the most effective assistance can only be given when you ask for it."

"That's why we're here," Scott said with a firm nod. "We're sure that Jackson and his…uh, master will be at the concert tonight. We have tickets to get in, and Derek's bringing his pack as back up. Did you think of anything that might help?"

"A few. I'm not sure if they've ever been tested on a kanima before, but for now they should do the trick. You're going to need to ensure that Jackson cannot fully shift. Once he's transformed, he may be too powerful to overcome. That's where this comes in."

He held up a small, gun-like contraption, removing a cap to show the needle that lay beneath. Stiles instantly stepped behind me, cringing.

"Uh, I'm—I'm actually not a huge fan of needles. S-so maybe we could keep—keep that like, over there…"

"It's not for you," Deaton explained with a small smile. "And you won't be the one using it. It's used to administer different drugs and anesthetics. You simply inject into the vein, pull back on the lever, and carefully remove it from the patient."

"What kind of anesthetic?" asked Scott warily. Deaton held up a small bottle with a blue cap, which didn't seem to reassure him. "Ketamine?"

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage. If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time." Scott nodded skeptically, and the vet grinned. "You seem surprised."

"I think we were all just waiting for something a little less ordinary," I said with a shrug. "Eye of newt and toe of frog, you know?"

Deaton laughed and placed the gun on the table. "I'm not sure about frogs, but Eye of Newt is actually a type of flower. Some mythology suggests that it can be used to grant success in adventurous endeavors."

"Wow, that—that actually sounds great," said Stiles, perking up. "Do you have any of that?"

"I'm afraid not. I do, however, have this." He picked up a small, square jar, half-filled with an ominous looking black powder. "This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for Sadie and Stiles. Only the two of you."

He passed the jar off to Stiles, who looked fearfully down at the powder before pushing it into my hands. "Right, so maybe she can take care of that. That—that sounds like a lot of pressure. Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?"

Deaton raised an eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. "We'll be fine. What is it?"

"It's from the mountain ash tree, which is believed in many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with ash wood, making it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."

"Okay, so then what?" Stiles asked, poking hesitantly at the bottle as I inspected the symbol on the label. "We just spread this around the whole building and then neither Jackson or whoever's controlling him can cross it?"

"They'll be trapped," Deaton agreed with a nod.

"Doesn't sound too hard," Scott said supportively, but Stiles just raised his eyebrows.

"Not all there is," Deaton continued, making me sigh.

"Of course not."

"Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder, until a spark ignites it. You two need to be that spark. You need to feel it."

"…Are you asking me to light my girlfriend on fire? 'Cause I don't know if I can do that."

"Let me try a different analogy," Deaton amended with a smile. "I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imaging where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

"Force of will," Stiles repeated skeptically.

Deaton caught his eye before the doubt could grow any further. "If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it."

Stiles swallowed thickly and nodded, forcing a smile onto his face as he took a deep breath.

"Right. Just…just make a magic circle out of magic dust and the bad guys will magically stay inside it. I mean, I guess that makes about as much sense as anything else in this town does."

"More, most of the time," Deaton said kindly. "Sadie, what about you?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, staring at the jar. "I'm sort of wishing we had enough of this to circle the whole town."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way. Mountain ash inhibits the supernatural, not the evil or dangerous. Even then, it doesn't affect all creatures. I know of a few that are immune to its powers, but most shapeshifters are susceptible to it. If I had to guess, this should work on Jackson just as well as it would on Scott."

"If you guessed," Stiles echoed. "That's—that's really bracing. Thank you."

"We should get going," Scott announced, checking the time on his phone.

"Of course," Deaton agreed, and waved us into the next room. "I've collected a substantial amount of mountain ash for the occasion. You should try to make sure it's laid out evenly, about two inches thick. Any thinner and there may be weaknesses in the barrier. Depending on how strong Jackson is, he and the person controlling him might be able to push through."

"Two inches, got it," I said, accepting one of the garbage bags that Deaton passed us. It wasn't exactly the most high tech solution, but they'd be easy enough to keep in the Jeep.

"You shouldn't have to worry too much," Deaton assured us as he passed Stiles the second bag. "Put a little trust in the mountain ash, and it should do the work on its own."

"Right. Magic dust has a mind of its own. Trust the dust."

I reached for Stiles's hand, lacing my fingers with his and rolling my eyes affectionately. "We can do this. We got this."

"Thanks a lot, Deaton," said Scott, who was toying nervously with the ketamine gun.

"You're very welcome. Be careful, and good luck. I have a feeling all of us are going to need it."