Lydia wasn't answering the phone.

Derek wasn't answering the phone.

Deaton wasn't answering the phone.

I wasn't exactly surprised that I wasn't getting any answers, but I was only getting more anxious. I'd lost track of how many times I'd called each one of them, the number of laps I'd paced around my bedroom.

I gave up on Lydia first. I wasn't sure what was happening, but if she was so far gone as to drug all her friends at her birthday party, I doubted she'd snap out of it because of my ringtone. Whatever Peter had done to her seemed to have reached a peak, which meant that things were only about to get worse. Knowing Peter, drunken teenagers would be far from the endgame.

Derek hadn't picked up either, but he had a good excuse. He'd already left me two irate voicemails asking for backup at the railcar, if I would ever-so-kindly stop drinking for a moment. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were clearly keeping him busy. Frustrated as I was, that wasn't entirely his fault.

Deaton didn't have that kind of excuse. The animal clinic was closed for the night, and he was deliberately keeping information from us. If he'd suspected something was going to happen, he damn well should have been around, especially on the night of a full moon.

"Just answer the goddamn phone!"

I slammed my hand down on my cell screen, as if that would change the outcome of the call. Each ring was making my headache worse. My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose hard enough to bruise, and I tried to take another sip of tap water to ease the ache in my mind. I nearly choked when the ringing stopped.

"Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, how can—"

"Tell me you know where she is."

There was a brief pause, and the polite tone of Deaton's voice vanished. "Sadie? What happened?"

"Oh, well, my best friend only drugged everyone at her birthday party and then disappeared on the night of the full moon, but somehow I don't think that's gonna surprise you. I know you know something and I know you don't want to answer me, but I've called you thirty times in the past ten minutes, and I'll call a hundred more. I'm not asking anymore. Tell me where she is."

Deaton sighed, and I head shuffling as he moved around on the other end. "Have you spoken to Derek?"

"No. He won't pick up the phone, but it's a full moon. I figured—"

"How quickly can you get to the Hale house?"

"W-what? I—maybe twenty minutes? Twenty-five?"

He huffed, but collected himself. "Alright. We might not get there in time to stop her, but that's where we should start looking. Keep trying to call Derek, and I'll meet you at the Hale house."

"Wait, wait! Stop her from doing what?"

"From trapping Derek. That's what Peter would want. Sadie, we need to move. I'll see you soon."

"Deaton! Don't—"

But it was too late. The line clicked and I threw my phone across the room. It collided with the wall, the back flying off and tumbling in a different direction as I screamed.

"Sadie? Sadie!"

Stiles's voice carried down the hallway as he barreled toward my room. He nearly skidded past the door, backtracking so he could run over to me.

"I'm fine, fine," I growled, batting at his insistent hands. "I'm gonna murder Deaton. He won't tell me what's going on."

"Did you get through to him?"

"Yeah, not that it solved much. I—I have to go. He wants to meet me at Derek's place."

"Wait, wait, Sadie, hold on." He ignored my gestures, pushing my hands to my sides so he could grab my shoulders. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Stiles, I told you, I'm fine. I'm just frustrated."

"No, not Deaton. I mean, Scott…Scott was saying…"

I stopped fighting for a moment, seeing the concern on his face. I pursed my lips and let him pull me forward into a hug. Terrified as I was, it was still comforting to hide my face in his shoulder.

"It…it wasn't real," I reminded myself. "I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He ran a hand over my hair, pressing his cheek to my head. "I might have to fight the girl who dunked me in your fountain, but I'm okay. That was some nasty punch Lydia made. Scott thinks she spiked it with wolfsbane."

"Wolfsbane? But then Scott—"

"He only had the one glass. He's fine, but technically, wolfsbane is poisonous to anyone, so we're all pretty much screwed."

"Is Allison okay?"

"I don't know, we uh…we can't find her."

My head snapped up and I stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Sadie, we looked all over. She's not here."

"Well—well did you try calling her? Stiles, that punch was poisoned! What if she's sick? What if Matt—if she didn't know—or if she saw something and then she—she did something and—"

"I know! Sadie, I know." He caught my shoulders again, trying and failing to keep me calm. "I tried calling her, and Scott's still looking downstairs, but…then Matt fell in the pool."

"So?"

"So Jackson pulled him out. Apparently, Matt can't swim."

That was enough to stop me in my tracks. I stared at Stiles, caught between disbelief and horror.

"You don't think…?"

"That's exactly what I think. Which is exactly what I've been saying all along, I might add. He fits the bill—creepy dude who's afraid of the water. And we already know he was at the rave."

"Yeah, with Allison, who he's been stalking. How does that tie in?"

"Maybe it doesn't," Stiles suggested, throwing his hands out to the side. "Maybe he's just a profoundly creepy dude!"

"Okay. Okay, we—we need to find Allison," I said, shaking my head vehemently. "She was talking to Matt earlier, and if he's got Jackson on a leash then she can't be alone."

"Actually, we might have a bigger problem," Scott panted as he jogged in from the hall. He looked better than he had a few minutes ago, but his face was grave.

"Bigger?" I demanded. "Bigger than your girlfriend going missing?"

"Look, Allison's scent goes off the property. She was upset, but she's not here. She probably went home."

"Upset about what?" Stiles asked, but Scott was already shaking his head.

"I don't know. Maybe…whatever she saw from the punch."

Scott looked down at the carpet, the ends of his fingers twitching slightly. Stiles and I could only look at each other for a moment before we did the same. I looked down at the floor, ignoring the imaginary flecks of blood my father's body had left behind. I could go the rest of my life without thinking of that again.

"Look, right now Lydia's missing," Scott continued, clearing his throat. "We know that Matt is controlling the kanima, and now Matt knows we know he's controlling the kanima. I saw him and Jackson across the street—Kanima Jackson—and they just vanished. They're gone."

A chorus of screams echoed from the backyard, making all three of us jump. Scott lifted a half-hearted hand.

"Uh…also, the cops are here."

"Oh, well, that's—great! Perfect!" I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, suddenly fighting the urge to cry. "I—I'll go talk to the cops. God, Mom's never gonna leave me alone again."

"Hey, no, I'll—I'll go talk to the cops," Stiles offered, wringing his hands together. "I know every deputy in this town. I might have gotten my dad fired, but I can talk my way out of this…probably…"

"Stiles, no," I said firmly. "You are not taking this wrap for this."

"No, of course I'm not," he scoffed. "I'll just tell them that we were having a little party, I called the ladies from The Jungle and one of the new guys must've spiked the punch. Lydia's never gotten busted before and she's a straight-A student. There's no reason to believe she was serving up drugs."

"I don't know, Stiles…"

I shook my head, but Stiles stepped forward and grabbed my hands. "Sadie, go find her. Scott can try to track Matt, and then we can go to my dad at the precinct with the evidence we've got. I got this."

He stared me down, willing me to believe him, until I finally gave in.

"Fine, just…please be careful. Don't do anything stupid."

"Me? Do something stupid? Like what?" He scoffed, but his laugh petered out as he looked between Scott and my blank faces. "…Okay, yeah, nothing stupid."

"Thank you. Now they're probably gonna ask for Lydia and I, so—"

"I tell them the truth. Your moms are at the boathouse, something happened to Lydia at the party, so you called a doctor to take care of her."

"Nice one, man," Scott chuckled, and I rolled my eyes with a grin. Stiles gave Scott a pointed look, waiting until he cleared his throat. "Oh, right, uh…I'm gonna try to follow Matt, see if I can't figure out where he's headed. Just call me when you're done with the cops."

He nodded at both of us and hurried out.

I turned to Stiles with a smirk. "Really?"

He shrugged and kissed my forehead. "Just be careful, okay? I know you trust Deaton, but…I don't like that he doesn't tell you anything."

"Ha, neither do I, trust me. But I'll be careful. Promise."

"And don't—don't go unarmed. If Peter's even a little bit involved—"

"I've got a gun in the van."

Stiles grinned. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too." I kissed him softly, but forced myself to keep it short. "I'll text you with updates. Stay safe."

I let my hand drag down his arm as I walked to the door, leaving him alone in my bedroom. It took a couple seconds to shake off the butterflies. I loved how calm Stiles made me, but right now, I didn't want to feel calm. I needed that sense of urgency to keep me going. I needed to find my best friend and try to stop her from doing Peter's dirty work.

The party had virtually disappeared by the time I made it downstairs. I did my best to hide from the cops, shuffling out of the house with one of the last groups of scolded partygoers. I hopped into the van and sped out of the driveway before I could be stopped. I tried Derek one more time on my phone, but he still wasn't picking up. Betas or Peter, something was seriously wrong.

I hesitated at a stop sign, looking down at the numbers listed in my phone. Allison, Briana, Derek, Isaac, Danny, Lydia, Scott, Mom…

I pulled over to the side of the road, tapping the cell number and holding it up to my ear. It rang a few times and then, gloriously, she picked up.

"What's wrong?" Mom asked immediately.

Her stern voice contrasted with the rest of the noise on her end. I could hear Natalie laughing, and the television was still playing in the background.

"Nothing's wrong, Mom. I'm just…checking in."

"Right, like you always do when nothing's wrong. What's going on, Sadie?"

"Well…" I hesitated, but there was no point hiding it. They'd find out one way or another. "Someone sort of…called the cops…"

"Oh my God! Sadie!"

"But it's fine! You don't need to come back! Stiles is talking to them now and since—since we don't have any priors they're…they're just gonna let us off. Lydia swears she wasn't the one who spiked the punch. I just…wanted you to hear it from me…"

"Small favors," my mother groaned.

I chewed on my thumbnail, staring down at the end of the road. "Are you mad?"

"Well, that depends. Are you and Lydia okay?"

"I…I think so," I lied through my teeth.

"Then…I will get over it. But you and Lydia are scrubbing the house from top to bottom, and you're making Nat and I brunch when we get home. No more alcohol—obviously—and you are on double secret probationary grounding until I say otherwise."

"Yeah, that's…fair."

"But thank you for calling," she added, her voice a little softer. "Now I can watch Grey's Anatomy in peace without wondering just how much trouble you girls are getting into."

"Grey's Anatomy, Mom? Seriously?"

"Oops. I've said too much." I heard Natalie cackling on the other end, and Mom huffing as she attempted to smack her. "Listen, call me if anything else comes up, okay? Are you sure you don't want us to come home?"

"No, no. We're fine. Enjoy McDreamy and McSteamy."

"Hey, I will extend your grounded…ness…"

I laughed, leaning my head against the car window. "Duly noted…I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetie. Stay safe."

She made a kissy noise and hung up the phone. I sighed, staring down at the ended call time.

"Yeah…always am."

I weighed the cell in my hand and then tossed it into the passenger seat. I didn't like lying to her, but I told myself that everything I was doing was necessary. Maybe going hunting for my werewolf-possessed best friend with a not-really-veterinarian wasn't exactly safe, but wasn't not doing it even less safe? Letting Lydia get hurt? Letting her hurt someone else?

By gambling with the speed limit, I managed to make it to the Hale house in eighteen minutes. A shiver passed down my spine as I walked through the woods, flashes of Kate's face returning for the first time in weeks. It was hard not to think about it as I rushed up the steps into the shell of the house, my gun pointed at the floor at my side…but any thought of Kate was pushed from my mind when I turned the corner into the living room.

The room had already been dirty, but now it was positively trashed. Dirt and dust covered all the remaining furniture, was caked onto the walls. Fragments of broken wood were scattered around the perimeter, and the moon shone down from a hole in the room. Light bounced around the room from several mirrors that had been set up. Derek was passed out next to a pit in the floor, his skin shining with sweat and a few cuts that were already healing. Whatever Peter had wanted, it looked like we were too late.

A figure was crouching over Derek, and my gun was up without a second thought.

"Hey!"

The figure froze, and very slowly raised their hands.

"You know, I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of you kids running around with firearms."

I relaxed at the sound of Deaton's voice, but kept a bitter grip on my gun. "Well, I'm not entirely comfortable with my best friend being controlled by Peter Hale. I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"I can't say I blame you. Am I allowed to move now?"

I pursed my lips, glancing around the room for signs of Peter or Lydia.

"She's gone, Sadie. I'd say she has been for several minutes.

Reluctantly, I lowered the gun. I bit my lip hard in an effort to keep my eyes from watering, then walked up to Deaton's side.

"What happened to Derek?" I asked in resignation. "Is he…?"

"He'll be fine. Some of his power has been stolen." One of his hands hovered over Derek's mouth, checking for breath. "I've tried to revive him, but I haven't had much luck. Scott and Stiles?"

"They said they were going to meet the sheriff downtown. We know who's controlling the kanima."

"Really?" Deaton paused in his ministrations, looking up with interest. "Who?"

"His name is Matt Daehler. He's a creep who goes to school with us. We don't know his motive, but he's definitely the one who's been controlling Jackson. And we're pretty sure he knows we know, so…Scott and Stiles are gonna try to convince Sheriff Stilinski…somehow…"

"I know you kids have a penchant for secrets, but you might consider telling him the truth."

"Right," I scoffed, "because he'd be really inclined to believe us."

"You might be surprised. He's already shown that he trusts you, and you do have a werewolf as proof."

"So just have Scott shift in front of him?" My tone was already turning sharp. "Of course. Why is it okay to tell the sheriff that the supernatural is real, when he's not even involved, but for the last six months, every time I want to tell Lydia, it 'isn't the right time'?"

"You have a fair point," Deaton allowed, turning back to Derek's body to find a pulse. "Given everything that's happened, though, I'd say you should be able to tell Lydia soon enough."

I opened my mouth to demand a further explanation, but Deaton was still inspecting Derek.

"Derek, can you hear me? I need you to answer me, Derek. Derek! We don't have much time."

"I could shoot him," I suggested dryly, and Deaton chuckled.

"I thought we might try something a little less violent."

He pulled something out of his pocket, the silver of it catching in the moonlight. I snorted.

"A dog whistle?"

"You'd be surprised how well it works," Deaton said with a wink. "A shapeshifter's sensitive hearing works the same way any dog's does."

I shrugged as he blew on it, the gentle sound just above my hearing range. We both looked down to watch Derek. It took a few seconds, but soon enough, his eyelids twitched, his nose crinkled, and his eyes sprang open.

Derek panted, looking around the room in a delayed panic. His eyes only lingered on me for a moment, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"That sound. What was it?"

Deaton held up the dog whistle with a smug smile, and Derek huffed. He pushed himself to his feet and almost immediately keeled backward again. Deaton and I rushed forward to steady him. It was only then that I noticed the slashes in his shirt, the edges still stiff with dried blood. His betas had definitely put up a fight.

"You're gonna be weak for several hours," said Deaton, cautiously letting go of Derek's shoulders.

Derek nodded and took a step back. He didn't object when I laid a hand on his left arm, too nervous he might collapse again. He stretched his right arm out in front of him, inspecting the claw marks on his forearm. They looked deep, but unlike the wounds on his chest, they didn't travel like a slash. It looked like he'd been drabbed. My bicep throbbed with a similar memory.

Derek looked around the room, and I followed his gaze to the pit in the floor. The floorboards had been torn up, just in the middle of the room, exactly where…

My hands fell to my sides.

"It actually happened?" Derek asked Deaton.

"Don't worry. You're still an Alpha," Deaton reassured him, "but, as usual, not a particularly competent one."

"Where is he?"

"I wish I could tell you."

"Who?"

The word left my mouth without permission. I didn't want to ask, because I didn't want to know. I didn't need to ask, because I already knew.

Derek and Deaton's cautious eyes followed me as I walked past them, stepping up to the hole in the floor. I stared down into the darkness and the dirt below. It felt like a lifetime since the last time I'd come to the Hale house, looking for Lydia. She escaped the hospital, and Stiles, Scott, Allison and I had tracked her here. I had been standing in the same place, looking down at the same spot, and asked Stiles if this was where they buried him. And Stiles had told me not to worry. Because Peter Hale was supposed to be dead.

"Tell me…tell me that what just happened isn't what I think it is."

"Sadie…"

Deaton's soothing tone wasn't working. It was water that was meant to put out a fire. But I was burning gasoline.

"Tell me that after everything I told you, every time I asked you for help and you didn't tell me anything, that Lydia did not come here and bring Peter fucking Hale back from the dead!"

I rounded on him, charging forward with every intention of throwing him into the grave that Peter had just vacated. Derek was holding me back, the gun already knocked out of my hand so I couldn't do more harm than screaming. And I did scream, so much that I wasn't even sure what I was saying. Deaton didn't move. He didn't even take a step back. He just watched me, looking a little sad, and ever so infuriatingly calm.

"And you!"

I spun around in Derek's grip, catching him by surprise as I shoved him back. I punched him with all my strength. He fell hard, smashing through an ancient chair. I knew he was weak, but all I could register was the rush from finally getting a reaction out of what was usually such a strong, immovable force.

"What about 'that's not possible'?! What about 'I've never heard of that'?! You just wouldn't—fucking—listen to me!"

I sent a kick at his body, and just managed to roll out of the way, sending pieces of chair everywhere.

"Sadie, stop! I didn't know! I'm just as surprised as you are! Stop!"

"Why didn't you listen to me?!"

My arms were yanked back as Deaton grabbed me in some sort of lock. I tried to thrash my way out of his grip, but he stayed firm and steady.

"Sadie, you need to stop. It's done, and we need to move quickly. Fighting isn't going to help the situation."

"Yeah? Well not telling me anything didn't do shit either!"

I finally succeeded in shrugging his arms off of me, rolling my shoulders to relieve the sting in my muscles. Deaton let me go, but the wary look in his eye said that he was ready to grab me again at a moment's notice.

"You're right," he allowed. "I apologize for keeping you in the dark. I hoped that I would be able to rectify the situation without your help, so you could focus on Jackson. Unfortunately…I was wrong."

There was a clatter of wood as Derek brushed himself off and got to his feet. To my surprise, he came to stand at my shoulder, fixing Deaton with a hard look. "If you were trying to stop him, what happened?"

Deaton looked back and forth between the two of us, and after a few seconds, he sighed.

"What Peter did here took planning, lots of it. Given your description of Lydia's symptoms, I didn't think it would be possible for quite some time. I only recently realized that he would need March's full moon in order to accomplish any attempt at resurrection. It's the last full moon of the winter, and it's power is generally associated with the coming of spring, conquering death. When I realized they would be moving today, I positioned myself in the preserve."

"The clearing." Derek blinked in recognition, then looked down to meet my confused gaze. "My family used it for gatherings on full moons, sometimes meetings with other packs."

"Precisely," said Deaton. "The process isn't easy. It requires concentrated amount of moonlight, as well as an Alpha's power. Since the clearing is significantly closer to where you've been keeping your pack, I assumed it would be easy enough to transport Peter's body and lure you there. When Lydia didn't show, I realized something must be wrong, and returned to the animal clinic. That's when I received your call."

"Yeah, we're seriously gonna need your cell phone number if this supernatural bullshit keeps up."

"I'm inclined to agree," he said with a wry smile. "If I'd sensed a problem, I certainly would have called you. I never imagined a high school girl would find it easier to transport a fully grown Alpha across town than a dead body."

Derek bit back a growl at Deaton's jab. "She drugged me, alright? She had concentrated wolfsbane in some kind of powder. I was unconscious before I even know what was happening."

"Not surprising." Derek shot me a dirty look and I held up my hands. "I meant the wolfsbane. She put some in her birthday punch too. All of us got drugged."

"Are you okay?" he asked, without the slightest hesitation.

"Physically? Fine. At the moment, I'm a little emotionally screwed up…given the circumstances."

I waved a hand at the pit in the floor again. I could feel Derek's hand hover over my back, but he seemed to think better of it. I fixed my glare back on Deaton.

"I still don't understand how this could have happened. If Peter was dead, how could he get Lydia to do all of this?"

"That I'm still looking into," Deaton admitted cautiously. "Sadie, do you remember what I told you when you came to me asking about Lydia's condition? Just after she escaped from the hospital."

"Sure," I said with a shrug. "You said that, as far as you know, anyone that got the bite changed or died."

"Any human," he corrected. "Think of it like a painting. If a person is human—a blank canvas, so to speak—the bite can change them into whatever their personality dictates. Werewolves, kanimas, all from the bite. There's no way to throw paint on a blank canvas that wouldn't make it stick."

"Did I hear you right when you said we didn't have a lot of time?" Derek asked irritably. "Are the metaphors really necessary?"

Deaton fixed him with a stern look, but relented. "The only reason a change wouldn't occur would be that something was already there."

"You mean, like if she already was something?" I asked, and Deaton nodded. "Okay. We'd figured it must've been something like that. So what is she?"

"Well, because of Peter's influence, it's difficult to say—"

"Or you just don't want to say," Derek cut him off.

"Not until I'm sure," Deaton said tersely. "The supernatural world is not as limited as you seem to think. Lydia could be any number of things, but seeing as she's been so closely linked with Peter for the last few months, it's impossible to discern which of her behaviors were cause by her powers and which were caused by him."

"Because of the bite?" I clarified.

"Exactly. I know it's not a lot to go on, and I promise I will continue to look into it. I'm doing the best I can."

"Well your best isn't good enough," Derek barked. He stormed forward from my side, pushing a finger into Deaton's chest. "You keep saying that you're trying to help us, but every step of the way, you're holding back. If you're not going to help, then what are you doing here? What are you really doing here?"

"Helping your family actually used to be a pretty important part of my life. Helping you was a promise I made to your mother."

Deaton's tone was cool, but even I could tell from his posture that he wasn't bluffing. His shoulders squared off and he stood tall. It wasn't difficult to see that he'd faced down far worse than Derek in the past.

Derek took a step back, eyeing Deaton in a new light as he sized him up. "You're the one my sister talked about. She said you're a—kind of advisor?"

"Wait, you used to work with the Hales?" I asked, stepping forward. "That…actually explains a lot, I guess."

"I used to work with a lot of packs," he conceded, "but Talia was a close friend. Which is why I'm going to give you some advice right now. I want you to listen very closely, Derek. What Peter managed to do doesn't come without a price. He'll be physically weak, so he'll rely on the strength of his intelligence, his cunning. He's gonna come at you, Derek. He'll try to twist his way inside your head, preying on your insecurities. He'll tell you he's the only way you can stop Gerard. Do not trust him."

Derek gave him a tight smile. "I don't trust anybody."

"I know. If you did, you might be the Alpha you like to think you are. And unfortunately, the one person you should trust doesn't trust you at all."

"…Scott."

I was surprised to see that Derek actually looked a little sad about it. He'd been a colossal ass on many an occasion, and he knew it. Still, being told that he wasn't trustworthy seemed to have a significant impact on him.

"He's with Stilinski right now," Deaton continued. "The two of you need to find them. Find them as fast as you can. I've known Gerard for a long time. He always has a plan, and something tells me it's going exactly the way he wants it to."

"Wait, I'm not going anywhere," I said immediately. "I came here to find Lydia, and I'm not leaving without her. If Peter was just using her to revive himself, then she's officially outlived her use. What if he—"

"He didn't kill her," said Derek. "I would have known. Besides, like Deaton said, he's weak. He left alone, and so did Lydia. She's scared, confused, but I don't think he hurt her."

"Physically," I spat in response. "He's only been messing around in her brain for months. Of course she's scared and confused."

"Yeah, well, I think we're all a little emotionally screwed up. Given the circumstances."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not leaving until I know she's safe."

"Sadie, you need to meet Scott and Stiles at the precinct," Deaton said firmly. "They need to know about Peter, and if Mr. Daehler knows that you've discovered, that makes him even more dangerous. Especially if he still has Jackson."

"Wait, who?" Derek asked, but I was too busy staring down Deaton.

"If anything happens to her…"

"You can hold me personally responsible. I know these woods; I can find your friend. If Matt and Jackson get to Scott and Stiles first, I'd be less confident about their safety."

I continued to glare Deaton down for a few more seconds, but I knew he was right. Matt had been dangerous in his anonymity. Now that he was cornered, he would be even more volatile. On top of that, Gerard could probably sense our breakthrough in the kanima problem like a bloodhound, and the murderous Alpha from last semester had just been summoned back from the dead. I wasn't sure which problem was the most pressing at the moment, but if anyone needed to know, it was Scott. I seemed to be the only person interested in looking for Lydia.

"Does anyone want to tell me what the hell's going on?" Derek huffed from behind me.

"Oh, stop whining. I'll explain in the car."

I turned my back on Deaton and grabbed my gun from the floor, then stormed out of the house without looking back.

Derek was smart enough not to say anything as we left. He followed me at a distance, hardly making any noise on the forest floor. At least, any noise I could hear over my own aggressive stomping and scuffing. If was childish, sure, but I'd exhausted enough energy that I couldn't be angry by the time we got to the van. I climbed in the front seat, instructed Derek to put on his seatbelt, and pulled onto the street.

"I have to get back to the railcar," Derek said quickly. His voice was cautious, obviously not looking for a fight, but also not leaving room for argument. "Isaac should be able to control his shift now, but I need to make sure the others are safe."

I took the appropriate turn without answering him.

It was a silent ride across town, which felt even longer than usual. Derek went to check on his pack alone, deciding it might be tempting fate to bring me into the den with three werewolves on a full moon. He was only gone for a few minutes. When I returned, I could practically see the relief hanging on his shoulders, on top of a new, slightly less shredded shirt.

"They're okay," he said as he climbed back into the car. "Isaac's still locked up, but he's in control. Erica and Boyd are knocked out. They'll probably sleep through to morning."

"Good."

I waited for a moment, trying to think of something to say to ease the tension in my gut. When I came up blank, I started the van again, and sped back to the main road.

The silence in the car only lasted a few short minutes. After a particularly short right turn, Derek cleared his throat.

"You good?"

"Yup."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Do you?"

He considered that for a moment, then pursed his lips. "No. Not really."

"Good. Glad we're in agreement."

"…Sadie, I'm—"

"Don't." I squeezed the steering wheel tight, closing my eyes for a moment as I came to a full stop at the corner. "You didn't know, and I don't want to think about it. We've got enough problems on our plate as it is, so…let's just take it one colossal disaster at a time."

"Okay." He nodded, then folded his hands together in a business-like manner that was almost comical. "So who's this Matt guy?"

"A supreme creep. He's the one controlling Jackson."

"And you know this how?"

"Because Scott saw them standing outside together while Jackson was in lizard-mode, and then they disappeared together."

Derek quirked an eyebrow. "Okay, so we're pretty sure."

"Yeah. We don't have a solid motive yet, but it's probably got something to do with his aversion to water. Matt can't swim, and all the victims were a part of the Beacon Hills swim team of 2006."

"That's…specific…"

"Maybe—maybe he doesn't have a real motive, you know?" I spun the car in a sharp right turn onto an open stretch of road, pressing harder on the gas. "Maybe he's just a fucking psycho, and he decided that doing something super specific meant he had less of a chance of getting caught."

"Sadie, slow down—"

"What? That happens, you know! Maybe he's just a psychopathic loser who watched one too many episodes of Criminal Minds and decided that he could make it look like someone who had motive if he limited his victim pool. Then he wouldn't get caught because everyone would be looking for someone with a legitimate reason to kill people, not a psycho, right?"

"Sadie, I mean the car. You're doing twice the speed limit."

I looked down at the speedometer, where the orange hand was steadily climbing past ninety miles per hour. I moved my foot to the break, reluctantly slowing down. "Sorry…"

"Hey, by all means, go ahead. If we crash, I'll probably make it out alive. I'll make sure to bring your body back to Lydia's."

It was an awful thought, but it only made me grin. Derek looked over at me, not smiling exactly, but as close to it as he could get under the circumstances.

"So what's this guy done to get on your bad side? Besides the usual murders."

"He's been stalking Allison," I said, shaking my head. "I know that sounds like…lame, in comparison to death, but…I don't know…"

"It makes you uneasy."

"Exactly. Like, people being paralyzed and torn apart—that I know how to deal with…sort of…not really. It still fucks me up, but with supernatural problems, at least I know how I'm supposed to handle them. With Matt, it's just…"

"It's a different kind of crazy," Derek finished for me. "I get it. You've gotten used to being in over your head with supernatural problems. A stalker is a little more…normal crazy."

"Well, I don't like normal crazy. I want to beat the shit out of normal crazy. Which I can't do because…he's got a giant, man-eating lizard."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "You could probably take him once Jackson's out of the way. Your punches are getting better, by the way."

I winced, partly from the guilt and partly from the twinge in my knuckles that was aching now that my adrenaline had worn off. "Sorry about that."

"No, you're not."

He looked ahead at the road, that would-be smile still etched on his face. I eyed him with a grin of my own.

"You know, I don't want to alarm you, but you might be going a little soft, Derek Hale."

He rolled his eyes as we turned into the parking lot, and then his face grew stony. I thought he was joking until he grabbed my wrist, gesturing for me to stop the car. I immediately killed the engine and tried to keep my breathing quiet as Derek listened inside. In the parking lot, I could see the usual deputy cars, a few that employees must've used to drive to work. The Jeep wasn't around, so I assumed Stiles and Scott must have ridden with the sheriff to the station. I didn't recognize any of the other cars, but it didn't take a genius to discern the look on Derek's face.

"Matt's already here?"

He nodded. "And Jackson."

"Stiles? Scott?"

"They're fine. Scared. Matt's got a gun, and…the sheriff's in a different room. Lockup, I think."

"Well, there goes that idea," I sighed.

"Jackson's scent is off. I think he's only half-transformed."

"Can you beat him, then?"

"Probably not."

I deflated. Quietly as I could, I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment, checking to see that it was still fully loaded. Derek eyed me warily as I weighed it in my hand.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't like guns," he reminded me tersely.

"I don't like serial killers. Lead the way."

He climbed out of the car without any more arguing. I followed him across the parking lot, trying to keep my heels quiet on the asphalt. I frowned down at my purple dress and bejeweled heels. It had not been a good idea to rush off to look for Lydia in formalwear. I'd have to start keeping an extra pair of boots in the car along with the gun.

Derek listened at the door of the station before protracting his claws and creeping inside. I trailed after him through the front room and past the reception desk. I saw him glance behind it, the way his nose curled up briefly. It was a big enough hint that I didn't have to look back there to see the carnage the kanima had left behind.

"Derek, where—"

It happened faster than lightning. There was a hiss, and Derek's growl was cut short as he fell to the ground. My hands were shooting before I could even register where Jackson was. Bits of sheetrock exploded around me before the gun was knocked out of my hand. I dropped to the floor as fast as I could, hoping to avoid the kanima's claws by some fraction of an inch. I watched my gun slide away from me as another hiss cut through the air.

"Jackson, stop!"

I curled myself into a ball, my hands shaking of their own accord. The room was quiet. I could hear my own, unsteady breathing, and Derek huffing a few feet away. I heard the crunch of plaster as someone paced around the edges of the room, but there wasn't any attack. I kept my eyes on the floor, not daring to move, and tried to keep my voice level.

"Jackson, I know this isn't you. This—this is Matt. You do not have to do what he says. I know that I—I've said some awful things, but you are not a bad person. You are not the kanima. And you do not have to do this. God, just…please, please don't do this."

For a moment, I didn't hear anything. Then something slithered around my neck.

I tried to scream as Jackson's tail hauled me to my feet, but his grip was too tight. Jackson was staring at me through a half-transformed face. Scales crept up his neck and across his cheekbones, almost covering his entire face. There was one remaining sliver of skin on his left side, then just his eyes. Jackson's normal, human eyes stared at me, quivering between rage and desperation. I tried to croak out his name again, but it was difficult to even breathe.

Jackson suddenly loosened his grip, and I stumbled on my feet, the tail around my neck keeping me standing. I was allowed a moment to gain my bearings before he tugged me forward down the hallway. He stooped to grab Derek by the back of his shirt and carried his paralyzed body ahead of us with one extended arm. Even half-transformed, Jackson was strong enough to carry Derek without even a hitch in his breath. If he transformed into the kanima, we were well and truly fucked.

We stopped at the end of the hall, just in front of the sheriff's office door. The blinds were closed, but we were close enough now that I could hear the voices inside.

"Open it," Matt's voice ordered.

Then Scott's, weakly. "Please…"

"Open the door."

There was a long pause before the door swung open. Derek stood paralyzed in front of it, unable to say a word of warning as Scott sighed in relief.

"Oh thank God."

Jackson let go of Derek's shirt, letting him crumble to the floor inside the doorway. Scott and Stiles both jumped back, looking between Derek on the ground and Jackson in the hallway. And then his tail tugged me forward, leading me into the room by my throat and forcing me to walk on my toes.

Stiles tried to run forward, but Matt kept him back with his gun. He turned to me with the same smug smile he'd worn as he walked away with Allison.

"Hiya, Sadie. Thanks so much for joining us."