Maybe it was optimistic to think that was the end of my day. One parent fired, one parent turned murderer, one injured best friend, and one death seemed like it would have been enough on our plates. And yet, the hits kept coming.

Derek had called as soon as Deaton had given Scott the all clear. He would be up and moving in an hour or two, though he'd be weak for a few days. Whatever state he was in, he was coherent enough to ask Derek to remind me not to tell Allison about what had happened. It was a ridiculous request, something I was sure was going to get us into trouble later, but he wanted to be the one to tell her. So for the moment, I had to keep my mouth shut. I just had to confront that dilemma a lot sooner than I was expecting to.

I cleaned my smeared makeup off my face before changing into my pajamas. I collapsed face-first onto my bed, thanking every benevolent supernatural power unknown that it was Friday night, and it had been the last day of school before spring break. I could sleep off the stress for the next week without worrying about whether or not I'd finished my homework or missed a reading. But just as my hand reached blindly to turn off my alarm, I heard the faint noise of my phone vibrating on the mattress.

My eyebrows pulled together, and I lifted my face out of my pillow to squint at the bright screen in the dark. I shouldn't have been surprised, given the kind of day I'd had, but I still wasn't used to my phone ringing at all hours of the night for supernatural emergencies.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound more awake than I felt. "Ally?"

"Oh!" I could hear Allison's breath shaking as she paused. "You're…you're up. I'm sorry. I don't—I don't know what I was thinking. Just—go to sleep, Sadie. I'm sorry."

"Ally, what's wrong?" Suddenly, I was no longer pretending to be awake. I sat straight up in bed. "What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" she asked with a bitter laugh, then worse, a sniffle. "You were right, Sadie. God, you were so right. About everything. I feel so—so stupid! I just—"

"Okay, Allison, where are you?"

"I—I'm in my car, outside my house. I…I don't think I can go in. Not after tonight."

"Then don't. Do you feel okay to drive?"

"Um…yeah, I guess."

"I'll wait for you downstairs. You can stay here."

"No, Sadie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Allison, it's fine. It's the first night of spring break. You can sleep over."

She hesitated, but after a few seconds, she let out a shaky sigh. "Okay. Yeah, okay, um…thank you, Sadie."

"I'll see you in a bit," I said, smiling supportively even though she couldn't see it.

I jumped out of bed, hissing as I flipped the lights back on. I pulled out a second pair of pajamas from my dresser, then padded toward my mother's room. I tried to shake her awake without giving her a heart attack, but with my mom, that was pretty much unavoidable.

Her whole body convulsed in shock as she woke up, and she blinked up at me in alarm. "Wha…?"

"Sorry," I said with a wince. "Allison just called me. She had a really bad night. Is it okay if she stays over?"

"Huh? Uh, uh-huh."

"Okay. Thanks. Go back to sleep."

Mom collapsed back on her pillow, and was out in under a second. She probably wouldn't even remember the conversation tomorrow, but she couldn't say I'd never asked.

For the first few minutes, I tried to sit patiently on the couch; it wasn't working. I could already feel the bubbles of anxiety floating up from my stomach, where I'd pushed them down out of necessity earlier in the night. Now, with nothing to do but wait and nothing to keep me company but questions and concerns about Allison, they were on the rise again.

I ended up moving to the front room, hovering behind the front door and peering out the window ever few seconds, just to check that Allison hadn't materialized on my doorstep. A few minutes later, her car pulled up to the curb.

Even if Allison hadn't called to tell me that something was wrong, I would have known instantly. There was something in the defeated curve of her shoulders when she stepped out of the car, her hair disheveled from the rave, the way she glanced around the yard as she walked up to the house, how she locked her car twice. Another bubble of anxiety popped in my chest and I found myself out on the porch, pulling her into the house a little faster. I threw the deadbolt on the door, just to be safe.

I didn't bother with hello. I simply took her hand and guided her upstairs, past all the bedroom doors to the bathroom down the hall. The light flicked on, and I glanced around the room before I could stop myself, checking it for some unknown person who shouldn't be there.

"I pulled a pair of pajamas for you. You can shower if you want, and there's an extra toothbrush under the sink."

Allison nodded meekly. I mustered up a small smile and pulled her into a hug. I was tentative, but Allison's arms wound around me like a vice, sinking into the contact. I squeezed back with all my energy, resting my chin on her shoulder as her forehead pressed into my neck; we didn't move. After a long night of failures, hugging Allison just felt safe, and neither one of us was ready to feel that uncertainty again. It crashed over me the moment I pulled back. I poked her nose to lighten the mood, then headed back to my bedroom to wait.

I'd expected Allison to hide in the shower for a while, but barely fifteen minutes later, she was walking back into my room. Her wet hair was tied up in a knot on her head, her fingers picking aimlessly at the hem of the sweatshirt I'd loaned her. She shut the bedroom door and wordlessly climbed into bed with me. She sat with her knees hugged up to her chest, back to the wall, and I scooted closer so I could wrap an arm around her, running my thumb over her shoulder until she was ready to talk.

"You were right. About Matt."

I bit my lip, fingers pausing as I weighed my words. "Did tonight not go well?"

"I think 'not go well' is an understatement," she laughed weakly. She turned her head slightly, peeking out at me over her arm. When it was clear I wasn't going to say anything, she took a deep breath and continued. "He tried to kiss me at the party. He did kiss me. And I thought I was okay with it, but I'm not. I'm really not."

"Was he upset?"

"No. I mean, he honestly didn't seem like it. He apologized and…actually, he was pretty nice until…"

Every fiber of my body screamed with the effort of remaining silent. I would not ask, "Until what?" My heart felt like it had stopped beating for a few seconds, but I wasn't going to ask. And eventually, Allison pushed on, her voice even shakier than it had been on the phone.

"Sadie, he…he has pictures of me. On his camera."

"What?"

"There's…God, I don't even know how many pictures are there. He—he left his bag in the car when I dropped him off, and I was looking through his camera and I—I thought they were just lacrosse pictures, but they're not. They're me and I—I'm in class and at lacrosse games and in the hall and in my room and I don't even know how he got them and—"

"Wait, wait, in your room?"

I could feel my bedside-manner slipping, but Allison was already too worked up to notice.

"I mean, who just forgets something like that in someone's car? It's a camera full of—oh my God. Oh my God, or maybe he left it on purpose? Because he wanted me to see it and he wanted me to like it and he was trying to invite me inside but I panicked and I told him I needed to go home but—but I just couldn't go home when I knew that he'd been there! I couldn't sleep in my room when I know he's taking pictures of me!"

"Allison! Ally, breathe," I ordered, wrapping my arm tighter around her shoulders. I waited until her breaths had started to even out again, though they were still too heavy to be normal. "Ally, we—we have to call the sheriff. We have to go to the police. We—"

"No. No, that's—that's just gonna make everything worse."

"Allison, this is serious! I'm—sorry, I know you know that, but honestly. He is stalking you. That is an invasion of privacy, and voyeurism, and trespassing, and a whole bunch of other creepy shit. At the very least we get him on harassment charges so—"

"I don't have any proof," she sighed, wiping her hands down her face. "He hasn't threatened me, and I don't have the pictures. They're not gonna raid his house just because I told them to."

"Then I'll talk to Stiles's dad. We could probably get you a protective deputy for at least a while, and some sort of security to—"

"Sadie, stop."

I looked over at her in surprise. Allison's voice was steady, the heels of her hands digging into her eye sockets. She shook her head in despair.

"The sheriff's department doesn't have any men to spare with Jackson on the loose. And the last thing I need is the police watching my family when they're using military-grade weapons to hunt down a teenager."

"That's…okay, that's fair enough." I folded my legs underneath me, leaning over to rest my side against hers. "You could tell your parents, then. They've certainly got the firepower to keep a creepy teenage boy away."

"They're already busy trying to take down the kanima. They've got more important things to worry about."

"Ally, you're their daughter. I mean, no offense, your grandfather's very creepy and focused on this, but your parents…you have to know they'd drop everything for this. Seriously, your mother just—"

I stopped short, the image of Scott's unconscious body flashing before my eyes. I knew he'd be okay, but I'd promised that if he lived, I wouldn't tell Allison about her mother. She had a right to know, but she also deserved to hear the story first hand. I could only give her details with three degrees of separation. She needed to hear the story from Scott, and I wasn't going to meddle with that.

"Your mother just terrifies me," I said instead, "and she and your dad have made it very clear that they're willing to do just about anything to keep unwanted boys away from you. They'll do anything to protect you."

"I'm not worried about getting hurt. I can take care of myself."

"Allison…you don't have to."

She lifted her head to look at me, and it might have been the saddest I'd ever seen her. "Yeah, I do. I…I screwed up tonight, Sadie. I…I just completely ruined everything. I tried to tell Scott that I told them, but you guys had a plan, and I—I just completely—"

"Hey, none of this is your fault," I assured her. "Our plan went as far as keeping Jackson sedated so we could trap him and the person controlling him for a few hours. And it turns out we only had enough ketamine to keep him out for about twenty minutes. That's what went wrong, and that's not your fault. At all."

Allison didn't reply. It was obvious that she didn't believe me, but she didn't stop me from trying to comfort her either. I went back to rubbing her shoulder, concentrating on the steady pattern I was making with my fingers instead of the heavy silence that was filling the room. It was almost unbearable, but at the same time, I didn't want to break it. I wasn't sure if attention or distractions would be more helpful, so I just sat by and did nothing.

Finally, Allison sighed, crossing her arms on her knees and giving me a fake smile. "Let's just not talk about it. What did you do tonight?"

"Besides fail to interrogate a super-lizard? Um…nothing all that good. Lydia had another breakdown this afternoon, and I haven't seen her since. I hung out with Erica for a little bit. That was…weird…"

"You and Erica?" Allison raised an eyebrow with the ghost of a smirk. "How did that happen?"

"She sort of bullied me into having a pregame play date. Derek bought my rave ticket, and she wouldn't give it to me otherwise. It wasn't actually as disastrous as I thought it was gonna be. She just wanted to get away from the guys for a while. And then I drove her and Isaac to the rave, we set up the mountain ash barrier, and…"

I paused again. I knew that I wasn't supposed to tell her about Scott, but Stiles hadn't told me to keep his dad's situation a secret. It was a pretty big factor to consider, what with the way we were pretty much always breaking some sort of law. If there wasn't going to be a friendly face on the other side of the handcuffs, we'd have to be a lot more careful.

"I was talking to Stiles, and he's blaming himself because his dad got fired."

"Wait, what?" Allison sat up straighter, turning to me in shock. "Since when?"

"Today, I guess. I mean, the murders just keep happening, and seeing as the sheriff hasn't been able to solve them…"

"They want someone else for the job," she finished grimly. "But that's not Stiles's fault. He's got to know that."

"I tried telling him that, but…apparently there was also some talk about the way he's been acting. Stealing the transport van for Jackson, getting the restraining order. We're trying to save the town, but we're also just screwing everything up."

"I know the feeling," she agreed, letting her head thump back on the wall. "So what'd you tell him?"

"What we always tell ourselves: we can't sit by and do nothing, what we're doing is important, all that. When his dad finds out that he's saved so many people, he's gonna be proud. That I'm proud of him, and…a-and I told him that…I love him…"

I winced, and had to peel my eyes open to check for Allison's reaction. I wasn't expecting her to be upset or lecture me, but I wasn't sure I could handle a blank look of shock either. I was already shocked enough on my own, and I couldn't take another dosage of surprise or doubt from anyone else. But Allison didn't look shocked, surprised, or doubtful. She was just smiling.

"Well, duh. It's about time, losers."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I think you're both crazy, and that everyone else figured out you loved each other ages ago. Oh my God, he did say it back, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he said it back."

"And…?"

I rolled my eyes, but her excitement painted a smirk on my face. "And then we made out against the Jeep."

Allison giggled, throwing an arm around me and laying her head on my shoulder. "I'm so proud of you. Abandoning the plan to have a heavy make out session in the middle of a life or death situation—what a badass."

"Ha, ha, ha. Nose down, Ally."

"Seriously, though," she added, making sure I was looking at her. "I'm really happy for you guys. You deserve to be happy."

"Well, so do you."

Allison's smile stayed firmly in place, but the sparkle in her eye died down at my words. I pursed my lips and blew a puff of air in her face to fan the flame, and she gave a weak chuckle.

"Don't worry," I assured her. "The four of us will be double dating in no time."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. Scott was…he was so mad when he found out what I did. I was just trying to help, and I only made things worse. I feel like I'm just making everything worse."

"I think we all feel like that sometimes. But I can promise you that you are not making my life worse, or Scott's. He's so completely in love with you. Nothing's gonna change that."

"I want to believe that, but…we're just kids. What if loving me isn't enough to fix this?"

"This? Allison, if you guys loving each other isn't enough to make up for tonight, then fuck Scott…except don't fuck Scott, because he's being dumb."

Allison snorted and buried her face into my shoulder.

"Thanks for letting me stay over. I just couldn't be home when I thought Matt could be there."

"Hey, I wouldn't want to be there either. And if I see him anywhere near you, I can't promise I won't shoot him in the foot."

"Sadie…"

"Fine, fine, but we should get Scott to shake him up, at least a little. That'll probably get him off your tail."

Allison suddenly sat up, her eyes wide. "Sadie, you can't tell him. You can't tell anyone about this."

"What?" My jaw dropped. "Allison, we have to talk to each other about things like this! Scott needs to know that—"

"Scott doesn't need to know anything. He got in enough trouble when he went after Jackson, and Jackson wasn't even doing it on purpose. He can take Scott, but Matt can't. If Scott loses control…he just doesn't need anything else to worry about right now. I promise I will let you know if things with Matt get out of hand. I just needed someplace to forget about it tonight. But you cannot tell Scott about this."

"God, you guys are killing me with this shit."

"What do you mean?"

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. There were so many secrets these days, it was getting hard to keep track of who was supposed to know what.

"Nothing. Just…all the secrecy. Because you and Scott aren't supposed to be together. I might be more excited for you guys to go public again than you are."

She gave me a sad smile, and grabbed one of my hands from the bed. "Thank you, Sadie."

"What can I say? I'm a gift. Now, do I need to get a tub of ice cream and some spoons? A Ryan Gosling movie?"

"I'm good. Really," she added at my skeptical look, "I'm fine, Sadie. I just wanna go to sleep."

"Okay. Sleep it is, then."

I hopped out of bed, flicking off the lights before curling up under the covers with Allison. I knew she wasn't as fine as she was pretending to be, but that was to be expected. If I'd found out someone was obsessively following me, I probably wouldn't get a lot of sleep either. I was tired, but I didn't let my eyes close until Allison had stopped tossing and turning about an hour or two later. Once I was sure she was comfortably asleep, I finally passed out with my face pressed into my pillow.

Whether it was minutes or hours, I was woken up far before I was ready to be. Allison was bleary-eyed next to me, half her hair tumbling out of her bun as she squinted at the door in the morning light. I peeled my pillowcase off my face, freeing my ear just in time to hear the second series of knocks on my bedroom door.

"Yeah, Mom, you can come in!"

No response. Just another string of sharp knocks.

"Unbelievable," I grumbled, making Allison laugh. I climbed out of bed and padded over to the door. "Mom, I said that you could…Lydia. Hi?"

She was standing in the hall, completely dressed and made up for the day—a far cry from the shell she'd been yesterday. Cute dress, heels, hair curled, she looked much more like herself, especially with the tray of coffees she had in her hand and a bag that seemed to be full of pastries. In fact, she looked enough like herself that I was almost terrified.

"Good morning!" She pushed her way into the room without invitation, a bounce in her step that I hadn't seen in months. "Morning, Allison. Did you sleep okay?"

"Um, yeah. Thanks." She accepted the cup that Lydia pushed into her hands, followed by a napkin and a muffin. "Uh….what's all this?"

"This is my apology. Sadie, scoot."

She ushered me onto the bed, shoving my breakfast at me and setting her own aside so she could stand in front of us. She rolled her shoulders back and flicked a piece of her hair over her shoulder.

"For the last few weeks, I have…not been feeling my best. I've been working through some different issues, but I feel that the time has come to stop letting that hold me back. I'm ready to get back to my life. I know that you have been worried about me, which I both appreciate and find extremely annoying, so in order to thank you can call a truce, I got breakfast and I'm ready to begin spring break by spending the day with my two very best friends. So clear your schedules."

Allison and I shared a look of disbelief. I was really hoping that she would come up with something to say before I did, but she decided to give Lydia a wide smile and promptly occupy her mouth with an unnecessarily long drag of coffee. Traitor.

"Lydia," I started cautiously, "you know you don't have to apologize, but…are you sure you're alright? I mean, yesterday when I talked to you, you were—"

"I don't want to talk about yesterday." Her voice was so sharp the I actually flinched, but in the blink of an eye, she was smiling again. "Yesterday is in the past. Really, I'm super sorry for scaring you, but I'm fine. I'd prefer if we could just move forward."

I closed my mouth, watching her eyes carefully ask they flicked back and forth between me and Allison. I guess part of me wanted to see if I could spot the difference, if I could find something physically wrong with her that I might be able to diagnose, but I couldn't. As far as I could see, she looked just like Lydia. It didn't do much to ease my feeling that something was wrong.

"Okay," I agreed cautiously. "Forward it is."

"Absolutely," Allison added. "That would be great."

"Perfect!" Lydia clapped her hands before pointing at each of us in turn. "First thing's first, out of your pajamas. Allison, I'm getting a very last-minute-slumber-party vibe from you, since I'm fairly certain those are Sadie's jammies. So I am going to go through her closet, find both of you stunning outfits for today, and you two are going to explain to me when you started this clandestine love affair."

"Lydia," Allison laughed. "You know I would always ask your permission before I tried to bang Sadie."

"As you should," Lydia replied with a wink. "But honestly, catch me up. I have been out of it for way too long, and I'm sure that I've missed far too much of the real world."

I let Allison take the lead in acclimating Lydia to reality. It was a good way to keep her distracted from Matt, and honestly, I was still too shell shocked to do much of anything. The Lydia I had seen yesterday had gone into a panic attack, asking me to save her from memories of Peter Hale. I'd watched that panic wiped from her face, seen her retreat back into her trance-like state right before my eyes. I couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened that bridged the gap to a full recovery, but until I knew for sure, I wasn't sure I could trust the Lydia that was in front of me. It seemed absurd to even think that, but there was a prickle on the back of my neck that I just couldn't shake off. I followed the conversation, smiled and laughed when Lydia and Allison expected me to, but I felt like I was only half there. My laughter wasn't any more real than Lydia's was.

Once she had fulfilled her desire to play dress up by forcing Allison and I into sundresses, doing our hair, and then doing our makeup, Lydia led a march downstairs to the front room.

"I was thinking that we could all go get mani-pedis. I must have been seriously deranged, because I think I started biting my nails last month and they need a serious overhaul. Of course, we'll all have to get gel to make sure they last until Wednesday. I might be able to pull of acrylic, but Sadie, you probably won't."

"Wednesday?" Allison asked. "What's happening on Wednesday?"

Lydia gaped at her in horror. She turned to me, then back to Allison, then scoffed derisively.

"Don't tell me that just because I was a little Girl, Interrupted that you forgot about my birthday, Allison. Wednesday is my party. Well, our party, really. Sadie, I love you to death, but this house will not undergo two ragers within a week. Also, I wouldn't want you to feel awful when more people showed up for mine. It's just because I've lived here longer. So, I thought we could do a joint party instead!"

I gave her a tired grin, crossing my arms and leaning back on the bannister. "Honestly, I don't need to have any party, Lyd. I was planning on spending next Sunday asleep, or catching up on homework."

"Sadie, do not test my patience. Obviously we are having a party. We'll just have to share your birthday week since mine should have started days ago. I have a strict schedule of what we're doing every day. Today is mani-pedi care, tomorrow we will—"

A loud yipping sound tore through the end of her sentence. Prada came barreling around the corner, tiny paws slipping and sliding on the tile in his haste. After nearly colliding into a table, he found his footing and growled at the group of us. The dog's whole body shook with the power of its bark, tiny teeth bared menacingly. He snapped at Lydia's feet, making her jump back with one hand on her chest.

"P-Prada, sit! Stop! Prada!"

"Hey, hey, Prada, sh!" I ran forward, scooping the dog into my arms and flinching as he scratched my wrists. "Hey! That's enough! Chill out!"

But Prada didn't seem to be calming down at all. He continued to bark, bulging eyes locked on Lydia no matter which way I tried to turn him. And Lydia just…stood there. There was a flicker of fear in her eyes, I could tell, but for the most part, she'd just gone stiff. She didn't even look upset.

"I got him," I mumbled, excusing myself.

I wrestled Prada into submission and carried him down the hall to his room. The farther we got from Lydia, the easier it was to control him. By the time I was putting him down on his bed, he was jumping up to lick my face. I squinted down at him and scratched behind his ears.

"You know something's wrong, don't you?"

Prada's insightful response was to lift his leg and start licking himself. I scrunched up my nose.

"You know, I was about to say I wish you could talk to me, but I think we're better off this way. Hang tight, puppy. We'll figure out what's going on."

My fingers stalled on his collar and I peered down at the tags. There was the gold one with Prada's name engraved in elegant script, but behind it was his standard medical tag. Prada and I might not know what was wrong with Lydia, but there was only one person in town I knew who might, and I hadn't spoken to him since Lydia's confession about Peter.

"Hey, Lydia?" I asked, jogging back into the front room. "When was the last time you took Prada to the vet?"

"Do you honestly expect me to know that?" she replied in annoyance.

"Well, maybe we should be taking him to get checked out. Something could be wrong."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. He's a dog, Sadie. He's spooked. It's fine."

"Lydia, that is not normal. I've never seen Prada be that aggressive, ever. He could have eaten something, gotten sick, be in pain, or—"

"Sadie, stop! We are going to celebrate our birthdays. We are getting mani-pedis. All we have to do is stick to the plan. There is a plan."

"Okay," I huffed. "And we can still do that. I just think that we should go talk to the vet about Prada first."

"You really should," Allison jumped in, once she'd caught on. "I've got like a thousand texts from my parents asking where I am. I really should've called them last night. They're probably gonna kill me."

"Well, they can't. Because we have to get mani-pedis. Plan, Allison."

"Well, maybe we can just delay the plan an hour or two," she tried with a smile. "Really, take care of Prada. You guys can pick me up later and we'll all go out. I'll even pay for lunch."

Lydia pursed her lips. "Ugh, fine. We'll take the stupid dog to the vet, but we're getting the spa pedicures. I wasn't supposed to have any real responsibilities today."

"Whatever you want, Lyd." Allison hugged her first, then turned to me and pulled me to her chest. "Thanks again, Sadie. And good luck."

"Yeah, you too." I pressed my chin into her shoulder, forcing words about her mother to slide back down my throat. "Just…please be careful."

Allison pulled back with a grin. "Always am. I'll talk to you guys later. Let me know when you're on your way."

I watched her go with the feeling of a rock in my stomach. I marked it down to the guilt, but even as she ducked into her car and pulled off down the street, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Something less obvious than the strawberry blonde next to me.

Lydia complained about the change in schedule for the rest of the morning. Prada's continued growling only seemed to make matters worse. She couldn't even convince him into his carrier bag he was so incensed. Instead of thinking that something was wrong with him, Lydia seemed convinced Prada was acting out for the sole purpose of ruining her life.

"I'm finally getting my life together, but can you be happy about that? No. No, you have to be whiny because I might leave the house and give you less attention, because you're a spoiled little brat. Prada! Stop—moving—and—get in the freaking bag!"

I ended up having to shoo Lydia from the room and zip Prada into the carrier myself. I would have passed him off so we could take the van, but even bringing the bag near Lydia made the dog shake inside her confinement. At my suggestion, we took Lydia's car instead, and I help Prada in my lap as we sped down the road.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" asked Lydia, ignoring the dog entirely.

I sighed and turned to look out the window. "I'm serious, Lydia. I don't want anything for my birthday. I just want things to be calm for once, you know?"

"Um, hello? I'm totally better. Things are going to be fine. Of course we're doing a gift exchange. Now, I'm already funding your wardrobe for the night, but that doesn't count because I'm buying for Allison too. Unless we want multiple ensembles? I was thinking about changing an hour or so in, make up for lost time in parties unattended."

"Whatever makes you happy."

"You looking nice makes me happy. And believe it or not, your disgusting googly eyes with Stiles make me happy, which is why we're going to go shopping, and we're going to get you a hot dress that will actually shut him up for once. How do you feel about purple?"

"Purple's fine."

"Oh, but don't think I'm letting you paint your nails purple. We don't know what shade the dress is going to be, and you are so much better than that. You're getting a French manicure, and that's final."

"Understood."

Lydia pursed her lips, displeased by my lackluster agreement. She tossed her hair and turned back to the road.

"Fine. Let's start small. What is Stiles getting you for your birthday?"

"I honestly don't know, Lydia," I sighed yet again. "We haven't talked about it. We've been a little busy."

"Does he have enough in his pants to keep you busy?" I choked on air, and Lydia's face split into a grin. "Kidding! Please don't answer that. I don't need to know anything about what's in Stilinski's pants. Ever."

"Well, I—I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to. Stiles and I haven't…yeah…"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing?" I folded my arms protectively over my chest, giving her a pointed look. "I'm all for the positive sexuality thing, but Stiles and I have only been dating for like a month. I don't know if I'm ready to…you know…"

"Why is it that you can say the words 'positive sexuality' but not 'have sex with Stiles'?" I involuntarily cringed, and Lydia jabbed her finger in my face. "Exactly! That! What is that?"

"I don't know! Does there need to be a reason?"

"Well, yeah! If you don't want to have sex with him, then—"

"I do though," I groaned. "I do, really, but…I just don't want to mess this up, you know? And I know it's stupid, because Stiles doesn't know what he's doing either, and I know that he's not gonna judge me for not knowing what I'm doing or for being nervous or something. It's just kind of a big deal to me. There's so much going on, I don't know if I'm ready to add something else to worry about."

"Well, what's going on?" I looked over at her incredulously, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, besides the murders. I was a shut-in, not catatonic. What's going on between you and Stiles?"

"I mean…nothing, really…"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, tucking my hands under my legs. How could I really explain the stress that Stiles and I were going through without explaining everything that was going on? A week ago, I'd been all for telling Lydia everything, but now…I wasn't so sure. Either this forced normality was some kind of break in her psyche, or there was something weird going on; my money was on the latter. Until I knew what, I wasn't going to get into the nitty gritty details.

"Just normal boyfriend stuff," I said finally. "Dates, parents, study sessions. You know."

"I know that I know, but I also know that I don't really know, you know?"

"…No…?"

Lydia sent me a short glare. "I haven't been fully emotionally present for months. I know you and Stiles are dating, but I don't have the details. And do you remember what I told you when Stiles asked you to formal?"

"Um, 'Anyone but Stilinski'?"

"No. Well, yes. I mean the part where I told you that your love life is one hundred and ten percent my business. Especially when mine is going down in flames."

"Your love life is not going down in flames…it's just…I mean, what happened to that guy from the basketball team you were flirting with?"

Lydia slammed on the brakes, and I nearly flew out of my seat. The seatbelt cut painfully into my shoulder, pushing the air from my lungs and making me wheeze. I stared at Lydia, then looked around the car. We were still five feet in front of the stop sign.

"Sorry," Lydia muttered, pulling up the rest of the way and stopping a second time. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Um…okay?"

"What I do want to talk about is you and Stiles. I need a full recap of everything that's happened between you two since formal. I want to thoroughly understand the situation so I can devise future plans."

"Lydia—"

"If you ask me if I'm okay, I will push you out of this moving vehicle. Are you ready to talk about Stiles?"

I stared at her for a few seconds, but gave in. "Fine."

"Good, because I was lying before when I said I never wanted to hear anything about what's in Stilinski's pants. I need all the details of your study dates so we have a battle plan for whenever you and Stiles decide to consummate your relationship. Start talking."

Thankfully, the full review of my physical history with Stiles didn't take long. We pulled up to the animal clinic a few minutes later. Lydia insisted on being the one to carry Prada inside, even though the whole carrier was shaking again. She was still working up the courage to grab the case while I ducked inside the building.

The bell jingled as the door swung open, and Deaton looked up from the front desk. He smiled gently, though his eyebrowed tugged together. "Good afternoon, Sadie. I know you must be worried about Scott, but I sent him home last night. He'll make a full recovery."

"Actually, I'm here for a different friend today." I glanced back as the door opened again, Lydia stumbling in as she struggled to keep a firm hold on the dog carrier. Deaton's eyebrows climbed higher, and I gave him a sheepish grin. "Do you take walk-ins?"

"Perhaps it'd be best if I carried the dog, Miss Martin," he suggested.

"Yeah, you think?" Lydia thrust the carrier at him, throwing it a dirty look. "His name is Prada and he has completely lost his mind."

"Well, let's see if we can't help him find it, shall we?"

He opened the gate for us and led the way into the back room. He gestured for Lydia and me to stay close to the door, then unzipped the carrier to let Prada out. He was slightly calmer now, but still trembling, and Deaton immediately began stroking his fur.

"So what exactly seems to be different about…er, Prada lately?"

"He's just barking incessantly," Lydia snapped. "He's always been annoyingly yappy—I mean, he's a papillon, obviously—but—"

"But unusually aggressive," I cut her off. "It's like the last twenty-four hours have completely changed his personality, but…we have no idea why."

Deaton looked over at me, and I gently tilted my head toward Lydia. It wasn't the stealthiest indicator, but it did the job.

"I see." Deaton moved to one of the cabinets, snapping on a pair of gloves and beginning his traditional checkup procedure. "Have there been any changes in his routine recently? New diet, less exercise…"

"Everything has been perfectly normal," Lydia answered stiffly. "I don't know why he's suddenly being so prissy."

Deaton hummed in thought, peering into Prada's large ears as he considered his words. "And how have you been feeling lately, Miss Martin?"

"Excuse me?"

"I apologize. I don't intend to pry, but dogs are extremely sensitive creatures. In many cases, they can sense small imbalances in the emotional atmosphere. If a family member is troubled or upset, animals have been known to act out and behave oddly, even aggressively."

"Well, he seemed perfectly content when everything was awful. Now that everything is perfectly okay, he's having a tantrum."

"That can happen," Deaton agreed. "Often it's less of a reaction to sadness rather than…a change."

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that this was an animal clinic. Is there an additional charge for this little therapy session, or is this complimentary?"

"Lydia," I scolded, and she rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Doctor, she uh—hasn't been sleeping well, lately."

"Wow, thank you for the overshare, Sadie. Look, can you tell me what's wrong with my dog or not?"

"I'd be happy to," Deaton replied, petting Prada as he wagged his tail, "but I'll have to run a few additional tests. Would it be alright if Prada stayed here for the night?"

"So long as he's not trying to bite my foot off, you can keep him."

"Excellent. There's a form on the front desk by the window. If you could just update your contact information, you girls can be on your way." He smiled politely and made to bid us out of the room before pausing. "Oh, Sadie, I actually have something I meant to give to Scott. You'll probably see him before I do. I know it's around here somewhere…"

"Go ahead," I assured Lydia. "I'll be out in a minute."

She shrugged and marched back into the waiting from. Once she was gone, Deaton dropped the pretense of looking for something. He beckoned me to the far corner of the room and lowered his voice.

"Miss Bennet, I'm not sure I see the cause for alarm. From what I've heard about Lydia, she seems completely fine."

"Yeah, well that's why I'm alarmed," I insisted. "Yesterday she nearly broke my arm mid-panic attack, and this morning she says she's fine and wants to put it all behind her—but she's not fine."

"I understand your concern, Sadie, but that's not at all uncharacteristic of someone who's been through a trauma. It's expected for her to attempt to jump back into normal life, however desperately."

"But that's not it. It's…" I trailed off, shaking my head. "I don't know what it is. Like, she looks normal and she's acting normal, but…there's almost something aggressive about her. She's always been a little abrasive, but nothing like this. This can't just be an act. I watched the panic melt out of her yesterday. Something's not right."

"I see. And she's having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah. I think she's still having nightmares. And…" I paused, forcing myself to think through Lydia's desperate words from yesterday, despite the pain. "I think she said she's seeing things."

Deaton was kind enough to keep his face composed at that. "Hallucinating?"

"As terrible as it sounds, I kind of hope so. She…she mentioned that she keeps seeing Peter. Peter Hale, everywhere. He's following her around and talking to her, and I figured—fine, her brain's trying to cope. I hate it, but it doesn't have to mean anything. But now…I'm not so sure anymore."

"Sadie, what happened?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency.

"What he was saying to her…it sounds a lot like what he said to me the night he attacked us. That he only bit her because I wouldn't help him. That I'm dangerous and all of this is my fault. And then, when she stopped panicking and went back to this normal act, she said something about…not being able to resist a good party. I figured she was talking about the rave, but…that's something Peter said to me. Before formal. And I can't help thinking that it's not a coincidence."

The look on Deaton's face only cemented my fear. He was skilled at keeping a poker face, but his complete lack of response just screamed at me. What I had to say was not good news. It was probably a lot more terrible than I wanted to imagine.

"You're right to be concerned," he said after a few seconds. "I want to do some research before we take any action. I can think of one or two possible causes, but neither of them are good."

"Surprise, surprise," I grumbled, but Deaton reached for my shoulder with a tight grip.

"Sadie, this is incredibly important. Whatever is happening to Lydia, it is going to change her for the rest of her life. This could be extremely dangerous."

"What the hall is that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "What do you think is going on?"

"Miss Bennet, I promise I will do my best to help Lydia. You did the right thing by coming here, but right now all I can tell you is that you need to keep a close eye on your friends."

"I will."

It came out as more defensive than anything, but I forced myself to huff out my frustration. I hadn't intended on leaving the animal clinic without an answer, but Deaton didn't seem interested in giving me another option. Much as I wanted to fight him on it, I got the feeling he wasn't the type to back down easily.

"You'll tell me as soon as you figure out what's going on?" I asked moodily.

"Why do you think I'm having Lydia update your contact information?"

He smiled his trademark, cryptic smile. It didn't do much to calm my nerves, but Deaton didn't seem to notice. He'd already turned away, rummaging through the drawers in the counter. His hand reemerged with an inhaler.

"This is for Scott. His transformation has dramatically helped his asthma, but after last night, I wouldn't be surprised if he needed it again. Would you mind passing it off for me?"

"Of course not." I took the inhaler from him, flipping it anxiously in my hands as I rubbed my thumb over the plastic. "Thank you for your help. With all of this."

"You're very welcome. I'll take good care of Prada, and I'm sure I'll speak to you soon."

He gave me a knowing look, but one that also felt dismissive. So despite all the questions I still had, despite the anger and anxiety breeding in my stomach, I left the office.

"You are now listed as Prada's emergency contact," Lydia said by way of greeting. She hopped out of her chair and rolled her eyes. "Why a canine needs to have an emergency contact is beyond me. Honestly, we need a new vet."

I followed her out to the car, listening to her ramble. She'd already taken the liberty of texting Allison that we were on our way, and calling to make the three of us appointments at the salon. Now she stared ahead, the stereo blasting a CD I knew she didn't like anymore, her hands on the wheel at ten and two instead of her usual nine and three.

I tried to bury my attention in my phone. Scroll through Instagram, check Twitter notifications, delete old pictures I didn't need on my phone anymore. There were some cute ones on there: Allison and I taking selfies during lunch, a video Lydia had recorded with tips for the first day of school, Stiles and Scott sitting on the couch, their faces stuffed with pizza on one of our videogame nights, Stiles kissing my cheek, a video with blurred red eyes streaked across the screen…

My thumb hovered over the thumbnail, and I stared down at the smudge that was Peter Hale. I'd almost forgotten that Lydia had taken the video. Usually, I just remembered that day as the moment Stiles had told me the truth about werewolves, but he'd only don't that because he was panicking. He didn't know what to do about the video on Lydia's phone. So I'd sent it to myself and deleted her copy of the file. And here it was, ready to be watched again—ready to be shown as evidence to my best friend. It was as good a place as any to start.

I bit my lip and glanced over at Lydia. "Hey, uh…do you remember that conversation we had a while ago?"

"Conversation about what?"

"About…well…everything. Allison and Stiles and Scott and I telling you about…what's been going on whenever you were feeling better."

"Oh. That. Don't worry about that."

"Don't…?" I blinked at her. "What?"

"Don't worry about it," she repeated with a shrug. "I decided to get my own answers."

"…You did?"

"Of course I did. I'm the smartest person in this town. I wasn't going to sit around and wait for you idiots to decide when it was time to let me in on the scoop."

I barely registered the jab. I was still staring at her, trying to process what it was she was saying to me.

"So…what does that mean?" I asked. "Did you translate the file I gave you?"

"Some of it."

"Well, that—that's great!" I blinked again, my smile of relief growing faster than my concerns could keep it in check. "So—so what did you find? Do you have questions? Let's talk!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Lydia, this…this is kind of huge. We need to talk about this."

"We really don't." Her voice had a steely edge to it, and when she looked over at me, her hard glare didn't even attempt to compensate for it. "I meant what I said this morning. I want this all behind me. None of it is important."

"What?" I stared at her in utter disbelief. "Lydia, this—of course this is important! People are dying! You almost died! And with all of our friends involved, things are only going to get worse, okay? The sooner you understand that—"

"I understand a lot more than you think I do. I'm done being caught up in the tragedy of other people's lives. I want to focus on mine. On moving forward."

"Lydia—"

"Do you know what they call the full moon in March?" she asked abruptly, jerking to a stop in front of a traffic light. "It's called the Worm Moon. It's all about being reborn, new beginnings. That's why my birthday party is so important, Sadie. This is about my reemergence. I am going to reclaim my life and get back to being the person I was, and nothing that's happening in this town is going to stop me. This is…my rebirth."

I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to breathe. It was like a web of panic had wrapped around my lungs, clinging to itself and growing until it felt like my chest was going to cave in. I'd expected Lydia to be upset when she read the bestiary. I figured she'd come at me screaming, demanding to know if it was a prank, why I was going to such elaborate attempts to sabotage her, why I'd kept something so huge from her for so long. I'd been prepared for her to scream, to push me, even to stop talking to me for weeks at a time, but I'd never expected this—this outright denial, refusal to face reality.

The longer I stared at her, the more certain I was: this was not Lydia. I knew she could be shallow, a little self-centered, but Lydia was a good person. She might pretend she cared more about her shoes than other people's feelings, but that wasn't true. She would never sweep aside weeks of horrendous murders because she cared more about being the Queen Bee. She wouldn't forgive and forget once she finally had an explanation for all the things that been done to her. Where was her petty revenge? Her scholarly questions about mythology? Her concern for Jackson?

When I didn't respond, Lydia beamed, speeding through the intersection the moment the light turned green. I looked back down at my phone, the blurred image of Peter shaking as my hand trembled. I didn't want to believe that he could have done something to affect Lydia. I wanted to believe that he was dead and gone, six feet under and unable to hurt anyone with anything but his memory. Still, he'd bitten Lydia, and it had changed her. Into what, I wasn't sure, but I knew that unsettling smile, the calm voice that made my skin prickle. Peter Hale was not as far gone as we thought he was.