In the dream, the sequence of events is always the same.

It begins in the darkness of an unfamiliar patch of trees, foliage crunching underfoot as she runs. Her breath fogs in the night air, each puff of steam drawn from lungs constricted tightly enough to collapse altogether. It is becoming more and more difficult to keep running, but she has to, in order to survive…

She knows what it is that is hunting her. Or rather, who. They are nothing if not a familiar foe.

Growing up on stories her uncle told her, the reality crashing through the brush behind her only serves to fuel the rapid pounding of her heart. It thunders against her ribcage, threatening to break free.

Sheer desperation claws its way inside of her chest as she continues to bolt through the trees, dodging low-hanging branches as best she can. Tears burn at the corners of her eyes because she is utterly and completely alone.

In the flight from the abandoned distillery, she had become separated from her two companions. She is hardly familiar with the woods that now seem endless, and there is no way out in sight. At least not that she can find through the panicked haze that insists upon clouding her thoughts.

It is absolutely imperative that she keep moving. Her survival depends on it. Every instinct she has all but screams at her to hurry up.

The sounds echoing from their starting point behind her only seem to be growing louder. More pronounced. Her feet are still moving, but it feels as though she is slogging through cement and not open air.

Every muscle in her body is on fire, and yet it is still nowhere near close to being enough. The breath catches in her throat as she emits a strangled gasp for air. A root snags at the toe of her sneaker, and soon she finds herself launching forward. Sprawling in a hodge-podge of leaves, twigs, and other unidentifiable debris with all remaining air driven from her lungs in a strangled wheeze.

Fingers clawing at the ground for leverage, she pushes herself upright to her knees. She tries to suck in a breath, the effort stalling just a bit as a spasm of pain flares to life against her side.

She stumbles as she finally scrambles to her feet, a yelp escaping as something whizzes past her ear with a low hiss. But before she can make it more than a few steps further, the girl finds herself stalled in her tracks, her eyes blown wide as a figure emerges from the shadows of the trees up ahead.

Hunter…

She turns, then, but the effort is quickly rendered useless, given the appearance of two other figures at her back. Her heart stutters inside of her chest, and fear causes a cold sweat to bloom against her skin.

Every single instinct she possesses is all but demanding she move. Run. Get away. But she can't, and the man standing in front of her is already aiming a crossbow at the center of her chest.

He is already preparing to fire.

Three…two…one…

The girl can hear the twang of the crossbow releasing, her eyes squeezing shut as she tries to brace herself for the pain, but it never comes. Her eyes blink open in surprise, but she finds there is no time to put together the pieces explaining why. A hand latches onto her wrist, provoking a shriek, but whoever is on the other end of that hand is already tugging her away, their other hand tossing aside something that looks suspiciously like a crossbow bolt along the way.

It takes a moment for her to realize who her impromptu rescuer actually is, with how he continues to drag her along in his wake as he speeds through the trees at a sideways angle from where the man standing in front of her had once been, but she does know him.

"What are you—"

"Shut up and keep moving," The older boy hisses, a hard yank to her hand pulling the girl forward with an unwelcome jolt, "We need to find someplace to hide."

Alarm flares to life in her veins despite already knowing, on some level, that he is right, the electric nature of it almost pushing her past the edge of reason. She shouldn't have come out here at all. She should have ignored her curiosity and fervent desire to be included and simply—stayed indoors. But she hadn't.

She had ventured outside not long after ensuring that her parents would not notice her absence for a while. And now?

Now she, and her would-be savior may very well die as a result.

He, at least, knows the woods like the back of his hand, though, or at least it seems like he does, given the speed of his movements as he drags her along behind him on their haphazard path. And even if she hardly wants to, the girl knows she would be a fool to do anything but follow along for as long as she can.

An effort that is clearly easier said than done.

"Can—can we slow down?" She gasps, the words broken apart by a strangled wheeze, though they clearly do nothing to sway the urgency of her companion's continued movements, "I can't—I need to—"

"We need to keep moving."

"But—"

"Move!"

The urgency behind the words is enough to keep her silent, save for the ragged sounds provided by continued attempts to drag in enough air, the panicked tears that track down the girl's cheeks hardly gaining any notice as her muscles burn their formal protest. She can't keep going for much longer. The reality dawns, and sends ice-cold fingers of dread to coil their way around her heart…

She stumbles as her companion continues to drag her forward. A gasp escapes as she very nearly falls to her knees. Her hand comes paralyzingly close to slipping from her rescuer's, and she hears him emit a frustrated groan, but then they are stumbling into a clearing, at the center of which resides an almost absurdly large tree.

A tree with a small door situated at its base.

Slowing to a stop, the girl stares at that door. She tries and fails to reconcile any plausible reason for its existence, her brow furrowing even as she continues to gasp for breath. Her chest heaves, and a cool sweat trickles down her spine, provoking a shiver as she simultaneously strains to hear if the hunters are still in pursuit, but before she can determine if the snap of a twig is a sign of any imminent threat, her companion is grabbing her hand. Tugging her forward once more.

Together, they slip through the door, and into what appears to be some sort of small cellar, the girl's huff of surprise at being hastily pushed aside so that her companion can close that door going unnoticed as darkness engulfs them once more.

"What is this place?"

"Shh! Those hunters are still coming!"

Torn between not wanting to further aggravate the older boy, and the fervent desire to find an answer to her inquiry, the girl slumps down on what feels like a hard-packed dirt floor. She shivers against the coolness of the damp earth as it mingles with the sweat still streaking against her skin.

Her knees curl up against her chest so that she might wind her arms around them, and the older boy sitting beside her adopts a similar pose, his arm brushing hers in the dark. And as her breathing slowly—steadily—returns to its normal pace, she catches herself hoping that they remain hidden. Hoping this place, mysterious as it seems, can keep them safe.

Praying that, come the morning, both she and the one who saved her will still be alive.

"Wow. You look like crap."'

"Just what every girl wants to hear on their first day at a new school," Madison quips, managing what she hopes will be a rather obvious roll of the eyes for her cousin's benefit, the fingers of one hand curling around the strap of her book bag as she closes the distance between herself, and the passenger side door of his car, "Glad to know you're displaying your usual level of charm and kindness this morning."

"We aim to please."

"You should maybe consider aiming a little higher."

Sebastian's answering laughter provokes a smile, even in spite of her best efforts to avoid it, his mischievous hazel eyes watching her as she slips into the passenger seat and shuts the door in her wake. He folds himself into the driver's seat not long after, those eyes flicking over her frame while she immerses herself in the first sip of coffee from the thermos now held firmly between both hands.

Madison can feel his gaze, but she ignores it as best she can, focusing instead on the warmth of the liquid just swallowed until the momentary silence that rose up between them is broken once again.

"You had that dream again, didn't you?"

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

"Yeah, Maddie, I kinda think you do," Sebastian counters, the words far from hostile, though the discomfort over her own evasion still gives his companion reason enough to quirk a questioning brow, "Simon told you—"

"I know what Simon told me. And since when do you refer to your grandfather by his first name?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I wasn't. I was providing reassurance that I knew what you were referring to, and asking a question for follow-up."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

"I will," Maddie agrees, smiling brightly, and suppressing her own laughter over Sebastian's narrowed eyes, indicative of how he is thoroughly unconvinced and unimpressed, "What?"

"You know what."

"Do I, though?"

The look that Sebastian sends her is far from amused, and Maddie forces herself to stifle yet another laugh as her attention shifts back to her coffee, and her cousin reluctantly turns his attention to the task of placing the key into the ignition, and backing out of the driveway onto the road beyond. For a moment, they simply drive on in silence, not that Maddie is foolish enough to believe it will remain that way for long…

She knows her cousin. She knows there is very little she can do when it comes to avoiding his questions, particularly given the fact that she has never had much luck avoiding them before.

A part of her wonders if she should be aggravated by such a reality. If Bash's doubt of her honesty should provoke some manner of offense. But she knows that it only comes from concern. From the sort of genuine affection that has always existed between them for as long as she can recall.

She doesn't want to lie to him. Not really. But, more than that, Maddie doesn't want to give him, or his grandfather any reason to believe that she is anything less than one hundred percent fine.

"It's just a dream, Bash."

"A dream that keeps you awake for the remainder of the night, and the following night after, at least."

"It's not that bad—"

"Some nights, I can even hear you scream."

The words are spoken softly, but that does absolutely nothing to diminish their weight, the flush that darkens Maddie's cheeks prompting her to avert her gaze to the coffee cup resting, momentarily forgotten, in her hands. Taking another sip, this time the scalding liquid actually burns, but she tries to avoid giving any outward sign of that reality if for no other reason than to maintain the status quo. To further the idea that she is unaffected by her nightly activities, such as they are, as best she can.

A glance to her left shows Madison that her cousin's fingers are tightening around the steering wheel. That they have gripped so tightly the skin of his knuckles is going white. Guilt winds its way through her like a livewire, in response, and even if she does not want to admit to it, Maddie soon realizes that honesty may just be her best option after all.

"Those dreams aren't your problem."

"They might not be. But helping you, Mads? That kind of is my problem," Bash interjects, his eyes flicking towards Maddie for the briefest of moments, before he is turning his attention back to the road once more, "I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

"I'm talking to you right now."

Madison doesn't even have to look at him to sense the stern look that Bash is sending her way, and despite her best efforts, lingering guilt robs her of any potential amusement she might feel at her own wit. It leaves a sour taste in her mouth, her lips turning down at the corners as she slumps back in the passenger seat, with her head knocking against the seat at her back…

"I'm sorry, Bash. I just—I'm always so terrified that actually talking about the dreams might—well, that it might—"

"That it might make them real?"

Nodding, because suddenly it seems she is incapable of actually forming any words, Maddie does her best to will away any unwanted tears. Every night, the dream is the same. Or at least it is the same in everything but the way in which it ends. Sometimes, the dream-her and the older boy manage to escape. Other times they do not. But either way, the night always concludes with unspeakable pain.

If they escape, then they return to find their families dead. Gone. And if they do not endure the loss of everyone they have ever known, they face their own end, instead. Those endings never, ever change.

What troubles her the most, however, isn't the manner of that demise. Not when she is awake in the safety of her own bedroom, and can recognize the difference between the sleeping world, and the waking.

What troubles her the most is the final thought that always passes through her dream persona's mind at the end. When she rests, bleeding and broken in the cellar with each breath becoming more and more difficult to endure.

Each time, she thinks of her father. Her mother. Nameless and faceless, but still enough to nearly paralyze her with grief. To nearly drown her in the volume of her own tears.

The dream-her knows she is never going to see them again. And every morning when she wakes from that particular dream variation, her confusion and sorrow only become worse.

In the waking world, she has no parents. Any hope of a family beyond Bash and his grandfather effectively died in the car crash that stole them from her when she was only eight years old. But that hardly lessens the sadness she feels in both worlds, in the aftermath. It doesn't make the idea of climbing into bed and facing those dreams again any easier to take.

And that is something Bash seems to pick up on, without her ever having to say a word, his expression nothing short of understanding even if he doesn't know the full extent of the truth.

Even if he has no idea that she sometimes yearns to stay in the dream where she and the older boy survive for just a bit longer, if only to have a chance at seeing her parents' faces once again.

"You're not going to die, Mads. I won't allow it," Bash declares, determination apparent behind the words, even if he knows on instinct that Maddie is hardly likely to believe them. Though she might not doubt his intentions and their sincerity, she has always been a realist. Even with these dreams that she is currently allowing herself to become so lost in. And regardless of how he might wish he could change that, he knows that pressing the matter will only push Madison further away, "Besides. Who would I annoy for the rest of their life if I did?"

The comment arises naturally because he knows it is far better to distract her with humor, if he can, as opposed to anything else. And if the snort Maddie emits as he turns the car into the lot of Beacon Hills High School is any indication at all, it works this time just as well as it has all of the other times before.

"See? You already know that I'm right—"

"I never said that."

"Yeah, well? You didn't have to. Your little snort, there, did all the work for you."

"I hate you," Madison gripes, her reluctant half-smile dampening any and all hostility the statement might carry such that she is soon facing down her cousin's bark of a laugh, "I do! This feeling I have right now? This is serious, one hundred percent, bonafide hatred, here."

"Uh-huh."

"It is!"

"Right," Bash nods, disbelief making itself readily apparent in his expression, such that Maddie finds herself all but powerless to resist the urge to punch him in the arm, "Ow, hey! What the hell was that for, huh?"

"I think you already know."

"Nah. I kinda don't think that I do."

Smiling at the echo from their earlier conversation, Maddie once again directs her attention to taking a sip of her coffee, noting that this time, it has cooled just enough to avoid causing any pain. And as her cousin selects a parking space, and the car's engine shudders into silence beneath them not long after, she does what she can to redirect her attention to another sequence of potentially troubling events, entirely.

Their arrival as two as-yet unknown students at a brand new school.

A groan escapes as she slumps still further in the passenger seat, the sudden onset of nerves off-setting the flayed emotion she had been prey to mere moments ago. Yearning for her parents fades, regardless of her own conflicted feelings over that very fact, to be replaced by something else, altogether. Something that almost makes her feel as though she is back in those woods from her dream, trying to outrun a thing that cannot possibly be escaped.

"We could just—you know—play hooky, today, and try again tomorrow," She suggests, risking a peek at her cousin, only to find chagrin stealing through her as soon as she realizes he is eyeing her with a look that suggests giving in to her plea is hardly something he will accommodate at all, "Please?"

"Nope. Not a chance."

"Bash—"

"We're here for a fresh start. Grandfather's orders," Her cousin persists, grinning broadly in response to her answering groan, and unbuckling his seatbelt with a disturbing level of enthusiasm before offering her a pointed look that indicates she has no choice but to do the same, "And like hell am I gonna walk through those doors unless you're with me."

"Scaredy-cat."

"Scaredy-cat? If that's what I am, Mads, what the hell does that make you, for wanting to play hooky?"

"Well that's easy," Madison replies, knowing she has little choice but to follow along with Bash, and adopting a feigned tone of sudden confidence that she suspects is only too likely to unravel just as soon as she follows her cousin through the aforementioned doors, "While you prefer to charge head-first into unknown situations, I would rather do something else."

"And what might that be?"

"Avoid the situation in its entirety."

"Seems to me that's the very definition of a scaredy-cat," Bash states, climbing out of the car, and turning to reach behind the driver's seat for his messenger bag resting on the floor just a few inches behind it, "And I'm pretty sure they'd notice you lurking out here in my car anyway."

"No they wouldn't. And besides, I don't—I don't lurk."

"Right."

"I don't," Maddie insists, unable to restrain a small laugh as she forces leaden limbs to haul herself into an upright position on the pavement, her hand lingering on the passenger side door as though she still possesses the hope that something will give her a reason to get back inside the car to head for home, "But if you're really that concerned about it, I guess I'll stick by your side."

"Gee, thanks."

"You can babysit me all day long, if you want—"

"Great."

"I'll even let you join me in the bathroom if you'd like. Though people will probably start to talk at that point—"

"Okay, little smartass, let's just—let's just get you inside," Bash interrupts, closing the distance between them in ridiculously long strides, and looping an arm around Madison's shoulders to begin the task of dragging her towards the school. From the looks of things, she fits against his side easily enough. The two of them share a laugh, and even manage another genuine attempt at a smile.

On the surface, it appears as though neither of them have absolutely anything to hide. They are just two high school sophomores, ready to begin another academic year. But on the inside, the situation is very clearly different, even if neither will ever admit to such a thing aloud…

On the inside, there are secrets they keep, even from each other, that will soon claw their way into the open whether they would ever wish for such a thing, or no.

Hello, darling readers! And welcome to the first chapter of a brand new story that I am beyond excited to share! It's been mulling around in my head for quite a while, and I honestly tried to resist. I really did! But with a sudden desire to watch Teen Wolf again (and absolutely no effort at restraining me as shown by the lovely ChiTown4ever, lol), here we are!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this introductory chapter and give it a chance! I hope that at least some of you found something worthwhile? As I am appearing to be fully back in the writing groove, right now, I hope to have a semi-regular updating schedule cooking for all of my stories, and I would absolutely love to hear what you think of this one! I truly do appreciate the support!

~FireAndBlood1415