Right Beside You (2022)

by BrittWitt16

Sadie feels like she's drowning—in guilt, in fear, in darkness. She doesn't know how to help Lydia after winter formal. She doesn't know how to protect her friends when there's an all-out war brewing between werewolves and hunters. But most of all, she doesn't know if she can trust herself to make the right choices. / REWRITE OF MY 2013 SERIES

35. Hostage Negotiation

"Fuck you, Matt."

Matt grinned as he strode forward, patting me down for a moment until he found my phone where I'd tucked it into my bra. He slipped it out, flipping it in his hand and winking at me. "I think I'll take this, thanks."

"You could at least buy me dinner first, asshole."

"God, you're just so unoriginal, Sadie. If you're not gonna be funny, the least you can do is be respectful. After all, your life is—it's literally in my hands."

He laughed, a strangled, desperate sound that made the blood rush to his face. His gun trained on Stiles's chest, he raised his free hand until it was level with my throat. He crushed the air between his fingers, and in perfect time, I felt Jackson's tail constricting my windpipe. I tried desperately not to sputter, but the air squeaked out of me as my head began to pound. Stiles was yelling again, but Matt simply chucked and dropped his hand. In an instant, I was crashing to the floor, released but still gasping.

"What?" Matt asked innocently. "I'm the only one who can't make Star Wars jokes?"

"This is the one controlling him?" Derek growled from his position on the floor. "This kid?"

"Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf."

Matt crouched over him, staring into his face with a dangerous, manic look.

"Oh yeah, that's—that's right. I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas. It's like a freaking Halloween party every full moon. Except for you two, I guess," he corrected, waving the gun between me and Stiles. "I mean, Bennet I understand. You can't morph into much worse than that, but what about you Stiles? What do you turn into?"

I could see the tick in Stiles's jaw before he opened his mouth, but luckily, he kept his voice even. "Abominable Snowman. But, uh, it's more of a wintertime thing? You know, seasonal."

Matt didn't like that answer. He jerked his head, and a moment later, Stiles was toppling to the ground on top of Derek. I scrambled to my feet, but Jackson's claws were already at my neck, stopping me from moving more than an inch.

"Nice try, Sadie. Now get up and go stand by McCall."

I hesitated, but Jackson didn't seem in danger of slitting my throat just yet. Still cautious, I stood up, glared at Matt, and walked over to stand at Scott's side.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when you said you were gonna convince Stiles's dad," I grumbled, and he nodded.

"Yeah, me either."

"If the two of you don't stop talking, I'm gonna blow Stiles's brain in. One shot."

"Get him off me," Derek grunted from the floor, but Matt didn't seem perturbed.

"I don't know, Derek. I think you make a pretty good pair. And for Stiles—I mean, it'd be a favor, right? Anything's gotta be an upgrade from the Prissiest Bitch in Beacon Hills."

Derek released a low growl that would have had most people trembling in fear. "Say that again."

"Or what?" Matt snorted. "I don't know if you've noticed, man, but there's not much you can do right now. It must kinda suck, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth. Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? Then we'll see who's helpless."

"Yeah, bitch," Stiles whimpered supportively.

Before Matt could retaliate, another car pulled into the parking lot, killing its engine just outside the front door. Matt readjusted his grip on the gun.

"Is that her?" He turned around to glare at us, and I felt Scott tense up next to me. "Do what I tell you, and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her."

"What's going on?" I asked. If he had tried calling for help, if Allison was about to walk into the line of fire…

"Scott, don't trust him!" Stiles squeaked from the floor.

Without missing a beat, Matt leaned down and grabbed Stiles by the back of the shirt. He threw him onto his back and then stepped on his throat, wrenching an awful choking sound out of his body.

"This work better for you?" Matt challenged.

I screamed, but Jackson was already standing in front of me, dripping talons keeping me back from pummeling the life out of Matt like I wanted to. Stiles gurgled dangerously again. I cowered back from Jackson, hands pressed to my mouth as I fought to keep still.

"Okay, just stop!" Scott begged. "Stop!"

"Then do what I tell you to do!"

"Okay! Alright! Stop!"

Matt glared at us for a few more precious seconds, but finally removed his foot from Stiles's throat. His whole body convulsed in relief, even through paralysis, and he coughed and spluttered as he fought to get the air back into his lungs. I sagged on the spot for just a moment. On the one hand, Stiles wasn't dead yet. On the other, Matt was much farther gone than I'd anticipated. He was cornered and he was vicious. It'd be a miracle if we all made it out alive.

"You two," Matt said, gesturing to me and Jackson. "Take them in there. McCall, with me."

"Scott—"

"It's okay," Scott cut me off. "My mom's out front. I called her."

A wave of relief washed over me, followed immediately by a wave of panic. It wasn't Allison. It was Mrs. McCall. I wasn't going to stand by while one of my best friends was about to lose a parent.

Scott placed a firm hand on my shoulder, anticipating the thought. "Don't worry about it. She'll be fine. Just—just take care of them. I'll be right back. Promise."

He did his best to smile, but it was a little difficult with his eyes staring down Matt's gun. He took a shaky breath, then led the way into the front hall to answer the door.

I turned back to Derek and Stiles, pursing my lips as Jackson watched me like a hawk. "Do you mind taking the werewolf? I don't have super-strength."

Stiles snorted mid-cough, but Derek glared at me as Jackson grabbed him by the shoulder. I offered him a weak smile and ducked down to heave Stiles off of the floor.

"Are you okay?" I asked, hoisting his arm over my shoulder.

"Oh yeah, I'm spectacular," he groaned. "My dad doesn't trust me, we're being held hostage by Mr. Rear Window, and I think he just permanently changed the shape of my esophagus. Hoping things don't get much worse. How are things going for you?"

"Uh, pretty great. Lydia's vanished again, we're pretty sure she managed to resurrect Peter, and now I'm here with you. That's about it."

Stiles twitched in my arms. "Oh God, please tell me you're fucking joking."

"Nope."

"Guess I shouldn't have said anything about things getting worse."

"Yeah, probably."

I struggled to drag his dead weight into his father's office. I had to carefully adjust my grip on his arm so I could lower him down to the tile as gently as I could.

BANG!

Stiles slipped from my grip, slamming into the floor as I jumped in surprise. Mrs. McCall was screaming, and from somewhere farther down the hall, I could hear Sheriff Stilinski calling for his son. Matt was yelling, sounding angry, but not in pain. My blood ran cold.

I turned on the spot, rushing for the door only to find it blocked once more by Jackson. His eyes flashed reptilian yellow, and his lips curled back into a dark, twisted snarl—all of his fangs sharp and black. For one brief moment, I considered elbowing past him—how much could he really hurt me with those claws? If Scott was in trouble, I could fight long enough to provide a distraction—but Derek was already shaking his head from the floor.

"Don't. He's fine, Sadie."

"Did he just get shot?" I asked over my shoulder, my eyes never leaving Jackson's face. "Did he just get fucking shot?"

"He's fine," Derek said through clenched teeth. "It sounds like a clean shot. If he was in danger, I'd be able to tell."

"What part of getting shot doesn't say 'danger' to you?!"

"The part where he heals by the end of the night."

"There's nothing you can do, Sadie," Stiles added. I could hear the conflict in his voice: desperately wanting to help Scott, not ready to send me out to battle. "Just back up. Please."

Jackson snarled again, narrowing his eyes. I pursed my lips, straining my ears for any sound of distress in the hallway. Mrs. McCall was still whimpering, but nothing else seemed to be going on. If Derek said Scott was alright, I had to trust that he would be. I wouldn't even make it out the door without getting gutted.

Reluctantly, I took a step back. Jackson didn't move from his spot in front of the door, but he also didn't advance. I guess that was supposed to be a plus.

I moved over to the couch, perching myself on the edge and weaving my fingers together in front of me. Stiles sent me a side glance, then screwed up his face in concentration. I raised an eyebrow as his face turned a splotchy, delicate pink, but he finally gave up with a huff.

"I'm trying my best with the reassurance here, but I can't exactly move."

I smiled again and nudged his arm with the tip of my foot. "That's okay. I'm not really sure if there's anything that would help."

"You heard Derek. Scotty'll be fine. He's had a lot worse than a GSW to the stomach. He'll pull through."

"Yeah? What about…literally everything else?"

"I—yeah, I don't know. I'm working on it." Stiles grimaced. "You guys are serious about Peter?"

"No, Stiles, I'm joking," Derek shot, rolling his eyes to the best of his ability. "Really hilarious."

"How does something like that even happen? I mean, I know you're a shitty Alpha, but he looked pretty damn dead a couple months ago."

"He was dead. And…now he's not."

"Do you know how he did it?" I asked.

Derek glowered at the ceiling above him, though I got the sense he wasn't as angry with me for asking as he was angry with Peter for existing. He glanced over at Jackson, but it seemed he'd gone into some sort of trance, awaiting new orders from his master. Derek sighed.

"He took some of my power. That combined with the moonlight was enough to reanimate him."

"And Lydia? What did he take from her?"

"Nothing, as far as I know. All he would have needed was me, but…whatever kind of connection he has with Lydia, he used her to prepare this. He needed her to do everything for him. Not like anyone else wanted him alive ever again."

"Hell no," Stiles agreed. "And we don't know what he's doing?"

"Laying low for the moment," I answered. "He's weak, but I'm sure he'll be back to his mind games soon enough. Then we'll all be back to square one again."

"Not if I can help it," Derek said lowly. "If Peter wants to be an Alpha, he's gonna have to kill me. And I'm not gonna let him get close enough to do that."

Stiles and I glanced at each other for a moment, but held my tongue. Privately, I wasn't worried about Peter trying to kill Derek. It was all too easy to remember the way Peter spoke—intuitively, carefully, smoothly. He didn't operate through strength, but manipulation. If Peter was coming for Derek, there were a lot of things worse than killing him.

It was a few more minutes before we heard any more sound from the hall. I jumped to my feet, ready to pounce on Scott the moment he walked into the office, but when Jackson finally moved to the side, I felt close to paralyzed myself. Scott's teal shirt was stained with blood, pouring across his abdomen through a hole that showed raw skin underneath. He was barely limping, but it was still a terrible vision to see.

"Scott…"

"Oh, shut up," Matt scoffed. "You know he's gonna be fine! You know everything, and you're still freaking out? Get a brain, bitch."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Stiles shouted from the floor, but Jackson crouched over him with his claws, threatening him into silence.

"The evidence is gone," Scott said, turning back to Matt. "Why don't you just go?"

"You—you think the evidence mattered that much, huh? No, no, I—I want the book."

"What book?"

"The bestiary!" Matt yelled. "And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's."

The moment the words left Scott's mouth, Matt's face fell. He began rocking on his feet again, looking ready to break.

Scott must've sensed trouble, because he asked, "Why do you need it anyway?"

"I need answers."

"Answers to what?"

"To this!"

Matt grabbed the end of his shirt and yanked it halfway up his chest. There on his side, pale skin melted into reptilian scales, not so different from the ones that covered Jackson's face. They shimmered dangerously in the light until Matt finally dropped his shirt again.

I exchanged a worried look with Scott. "And nobody—"

"No! Nobody bit me, Bennet! Do you think I'm that dumb? I have the perfect system! I don't need the bite! I just want to know what the hell is going on!"

"Matt, we can help you," Scott said gently, taking a careful step toward him. "We can get the bestiary. We can figure this out, but not like this. Just—just let us go, and I'll talk to Gerard for you."

"Talk to Gerard?" Matt gave a short derisive laugh. "What, so he can kill me too? So he can kill Jackson? No. No, you're gonna get me the book…right now. 'Cause you're not the only one who can get it for me."

He walked behind the sheriff's desk, collapsing into the chair and pulling the small pile of cell phones toward him. He pulled mine out of his pocket and tapped it against his chin.

"Now, who wants to be the one to call Allison for me?"

"No!" Scott and I shouted at the same time, and Matt laughed again.

"Look, I know it's not ideal, guys. Obviously, I'd love to call her myself, but seeing as some people in this room can't keep their opinions to themselves"—he shot me an acidic smile—"I don't think Ally's gonna be very receptive to that. So, what's gonna make her answer faster? A text from her best friend, or a text from her secret, werewolf boyfriend?"

He pondered that for a moment, testing our phones in one hand while the gun remained steady in the other.

"Now—no offense, McCall—but you guys have definitely been on the rocks lately, so I'm gonna hazard a guess that a text from Bennet's gonna get a faster response. Sadie, do you want to do the honors? Oh, and before you answer, just remember that I've already shot one person in this room, and I would—I would just really love an excuse to shoot you point blank."

My blood boiled as he passed me my phone. Wordlessly, I unlocked it, and passed it back to him.

Matt beamed, he kicked his feet up on the desk, tapping through my phone until he finally found Allison's information.

"Alright, okay, so—so I'm being held at gunpoint at the police station. My best friend's ex-boyfriend is a mythical killing machine ready to slit my throat. My boyfriend's paralyzed, and the genius holding us all just wants the bestiary. What do I say? How about… 'Hey Ally.' Do you think that's too casual? I mean, this is a pretty urgent situation. No, let's go with, 'Allison. We had a breakthrough with the kanima. We think we know who's controlling him. Meet us at the station and bring the bestiary.' I guess I'll say, 'if you can.' You don't want to sound like a bitch, right? 'See you soon.' And, send."

"Doesn't really sound like me," I said disparagingly.

"Yeah, I guess not." Matt hopped back to his feet, striding up to me and tapping the gun against my chin. "But you see, that—that's the beauty of it, isn't it? If she thinks it's you, she'll come because she wants to help. If she thinks it's not you, well…that must mean something's wrong. And she's not gonna let anything happen to her best friend, right? So she'll come, with the book, and try to save you before it's too late."

Stiles grunted from the floor. "Oh, I'm so gonna kick your ass when this wears off."

Matt snorted, grabbing my shoulder with a domineering hand.

"Alright, I think it's about time we split up the sass team. Bennet, McCall, you're with me. Jackson, stay here and try not to kill these two idiots…yet."

I contemplated standing my ground. I didn't want to leave Stiles and Derek behind, especially when that meant leaving them with Jackson, but the cold tip of Matt's gun pressed into my spine. He pushed me into a march before I could argue.

Scott led the way, glancing at me over his shoulder every few steps to make sure I was still alive and breathing. We walked down the hall, back into the bull pen, before Matt finally decided that we could stop.

The moment the gun left my back, I rushed forward to Scott. He was clutching his stomach, but I batted his hands out of the way, examining what was left of the gunshot wound through the tatters of his shirt. I didn't like seeing the hole in his flesh, but it seemed smaller than should have been normal. It was already healing from the inside, just not quickly enough.

Scott's bloody hand closed around one of mine. "Sadie, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me what to do." I pulled out one of the desk chairs and forced him to sit down. "You shouldn't be walking around like this. It's aggravating the muscles. If it's gonna heal right, you need to stop moving so much."

"I don't think that's really an option."

"Too fucking bad."

"You two are a riot, you know that?" Matt was peering out of the windows, as though Allison would be delivering the bestiary via teleportation mere seconds after receiving my text. "He could be doing cartwheels around the room and he'd still heal better than any normal person."

I pointedly ignored him, kneeling in front of Scott. "How's your mom?"

"She's fine," he assured me. "Fine as she can be, anyway. She's locked up in one of the holding cells with Stiles's dad. Well, he's not in there in there, but…they're together, I guess."

"And they're okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they're okay."

I nodded, allowing myself to relax a bit. There wasn't much else we could do for the moment. Assuming that Allison was alright, she'd be able to tell that something was wrong from my text. After what happened at the rave, there was a good chance she'd gear up and by herself, but that was only if Gerard didn't catch her sneaking out. If he did, she'd have to explain herself, and then we'd have the full force of the hunters on our ass again. For now, we'd have to wait until the Argents showed up or until Matt's patience wore thin and he snapped. Neither was an appealing option.

Matt continued to case the room while Scott and I sat quietly at one of the desks. He kept his hold on my hand, easing my anxiety even if he wasn't actually taking any pain. He would wince every few minutes, tightening his grip on his shirt. I just hoped that the pain meant it would be over soon.

A particularly big wince caught Matt's attention again, and he smirked as he sidled over to us.

"You know, I—I feel sorry for you, McCall. Cause right now you're thinking, 'How am I gonna explain this when it heals?' And the sad part is, you don't even realize how incredible it is that you actually are healing. Cause you know what happens to everyone else when they get shot? They die."

Matt stormed away as quickly as he had come, and I exchanged another look with Scott.

"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "When you said all of them murdered you?"

Matt didn't answer me, but the stoic silence was a stark contrast to the screaming he'd been doing the rest of the night. Clearly, we weren't far off the mark.

"You drowned, didn't you?"

Matt glanced back at Scott, and finally leaned onto one of the desks.

"He…he shouldn't have let them drink…"

"What—who…? Matt what do you mean?"

"Lahey! He shouldn't have let them drink!"

Scott glanced down at me again and lowered his voice. "Who was drinking?"

"The swim team, you idiot!" Matt shouted. He pushed off the desk, twirling the gun in his hand as he began to pace, but he didn't seem to be thinking about it. His mind was reeling from memories. "I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know they had just won state, and Lahey, he's letting his favorites come over to have a couple drinks to celebrate. Who cares if they're seventeen, right?"

"You were at Isaac's?" I asked.

It seemed crazy that they could have known each other when they were younger and Isaac had failed to mention it, but then again, Matt had never come up in our conflicts with Isaac. The two problems were only colliding now.

"He had this first edition Spider-Man," Matt said quietly. "Or—or was it Batman? And we were gonna make a trade, but then I'm over there and I hear music. And everyone's having a good time, and I see Sean. He throws Jessica in the pool, and then—and then Bennett goes in and—"

"Bennet?" Scott repeated, looking down at me. "But Sadie—"

"Not Sadie! God, McCall, how stupid are you?"

"He's a hunter," I remembered suddenly. Allison's voice rang in my head, talking to me from the locker room. "He was helping Chris train Allison. Chase Bennett."

"Chase," Matt spat, shaking his head. "Back-flipping into the pool, showing off. And then Camden, Isaac's jarhead brother, he grabs me. He thinks it's funny."

"They threw you in," Scott followed.

Matt nodded, more to himself than Scott.

"I yell that I can't swim, but nobody listens. I go under and I swallow water, and no one cares. And I see these bodies underwater. I—I see Jessica's got her hands down Sean's board shorts. Tucker's grabbing Kara. And I'm drowning. I'm dying, and they're all laughing."

He shook his head, and then charged for me and Scott, brandishing the gun again.

"And all of a sudden, I'm lying by the pool, and Lahey is right there, right above me, and he says—he says, 'You—you tell no one! This? This is your fault! You don't know how to swim? What little bastard doesn't know how to swim? You say nothing! You tell no one! No one!'"

Scott got to his feet, edging in front of me as Matt pressed the gun mindlessly to his chest. I tried to tug Scott back, but he wouldn't move. Matt was unpredictable at best, and Scott wasn't going to let a shot go off in the wrong direction.

"And I didn't," Matt continued, letting the gun drop to his side once more. "I didn't tell anyone. And I would see them at school, and they wouldn't even look at me. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, I'd gasp for breath, and my parents, they thought I was asthmatic! They—they—even get me an inhaler! They didn't know that every time I closed my eyes, I—I was drowning. And…you know that little white light they talk about? That you see when you die? Well, I didn't see anything. Just darkness. Everything was dark, but then…"

He paused, his lips turning up into a bitter grin as he looked at me. In an instant, his whole demeanor seemed to change. He wasn't a kid drowning anymore. He was back to the present, back to the proud, conquering asshole that was holding six people hostage.

"Then came the Argents' funeral, and everything changed. I was taking some photos—you remember, Sadie? And this bitch, she rams into me. Completely ruins my shot, and then I look down at the picture and, purely by accident, Lahey's in the frame instead. I look down at the screen on my camera, and I just have this unbelievable rage that fills up inside of me, and I just—I look at him, and I—I wanna see him dead. And the next day, he actually was. You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was something out of Greek mythology, like—like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes."

Matt looked over at us with a twisted grin. It flickered for a moment when he saw Scott.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Was…was he the guy who stabbed out his eyes…?"

"God, that's Oedipus, you dumbass! Bennet! Tell me you're good for something!"

I glared at him, holding his gaze while I explained to Scott, "They're gods of vengeance. They punish liars, people who aren't loyal to their families. They wanted to punish Orestes for murdering his mother and step-father."

"God, thank you, Sadie!"

"You know the Furies let Orestes off, right?" I reminded Matt. "Because he was doing it under someone else's orders? Sort of like all those kids and their coach."

Matt laughed derisively, coming at me with the gun. "You know, I—I really can't decide if I would have more fun fighting you or shooting you, Bennet. I really can't!"

"Hey," Scott cut in, stepping farther in front of me to catch Matt's attention. "I'm sorry. Why—why is Jackson like a Fury?"

"I've got to explain it?" Matt asked. "Because he punishes those people who need to be punished. Jackson is my fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, it was like this bond had been cemented between the two of us. I knew he had killed Lahey for me. And I knew he would do it again. So I went to Tucker's garage. I even paid for an oil change. And guess what? He didn't even recognize me! So when he wasn't looking, I took a shot of him with my camera. And in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life."

He spat the words out with horrible conviction, and there was a terrible moment where I almost understood. It was wrong, and I hated him, and he was crazy—but just like I'd felt for Peter, there was a moment of pity, of sympathy. Of course he wanted them to pay, but not like this. Because Matt hadn't died. They were drunk kids, and he hadn't died. Should they have been punished? Absolutely. But gruesomely murdered? For almost?

I shuddered, forcing Tucker's screams out of my head. We had been there. I had listened to him die because Matt almost drowned once. And in return, he'd been paralyzed and then crushed to death by a Jeep.

"You're crazy," I said, before I could stop myself.

Matt simply grinned. "You know, you're not the first to say that. But the more it happens, the more I realize, I really don't care what you think. Because since Lahey died, I haven't woken up suffocating once. It's like being normal. And if that's what I have to do to get a decent night's sleep, then all of those assholes are gonna pay. And you are too."

"Matt, it doesn't have to be like this," Scott pleaded. "The Argents are on their way with the bestiary, and we erased all the evidence from the computer. No one can tie you to the murders. It's over!"

"No, McCall, it's not. 'Cause thanks to you meddling kids and your pet werewolf, now I'm gonna have to kill a lot more people, aren't I?"

"Look, we—we won't say anything. If you let us all go, we can go our separate ways. People will trust the sheriff. If he says it didn't happen, they'll believe him. We won't tell anyone."

"And I want to believe you Scott," Matt said, shaking his head with that same, manic grin. "But Little Miss Bennet over here? With her dead cop dad and bad history with hostage negotiation? I'm just not sure she can keep her mouth shut."

My initial plan have been telling Matt to go to hell, but when I opened my mouth, a scream pushed past the carefully chosen words. I shoved Scott aside and tackled Matt before he had a chance to raise the gun, knocking it out of his hand and across the floor. I punched him, and I punched him again. I was so intent on breaking his nose that I didn't hear Scott run up behind me. I didn't fight him off. I didn't even realize that someone had killed all the lights in the station until Scott had pulled me under one of the desks.

"Bennet, you—you fucking bitch! What is going on?! What did you do?!"

I turned to Scott, bewildered and ready to ask the same, but before I could, there was a wall of gunfire and the windows around us shattered. Scott pressed me into the floor, covering my head with his chest and shielding me from as much damage as he could. There was a moment of silence, then a soft hiss as smoke billowed across the floor.

"Are you o-okay?" Scott coughed.

"I'm fine! Just go! Go, go, go!"

Scott nodded into my shoulder, grabbing my hand to slide me out from under the desk. The room was quickly losing all form of detail, swept under clouds of fog from the military grade smoke bombs rolling around the floor. It didn't take long to piece together what had happened. For once, the Argents seemed to have shown up at the perfect time.

I followed the sound of Scott's feet as he darted from the room. I hesitated in the hall, trying to expel the smoke from my lungs. It felt awful, but if Matt's gun was still lying on the floor…

A completely different hiss echoed behind me, followed by a screech as Scott knocked Jackson to the floor.

"Sadie!"

I didn't bother replying. I sprinted after Scott, leaping over the dark, writhing shape on the floor I was fairly certain was Jackson. The smoke began to thin as we moved down the hall, bursting into the sheriff's office where Stiles and Derek were still lying on the floor. Derek had managed to push himself up on his elbows, but Stiles was still looking stiff.

Scott darted to his side, pulling one arm over his shoulder as I had done earlier. I slid the last foot to Derek on my knees, trying to grab his arm, but he shoved me off.

"Just take him! Go!"

"No! Derek—"

"Sadie, I'm fine. Take Stiles and get out of here, now!"

I wanted to argue, but Scott was already at the door, and Derek was rolling himself onto his stomach.

"God, I hate you," I groaned.

"Go!"

I bit back a retort as I jumped to my feet, skidding around Jackson as I followed Scott and Stiles down the hall. They were making pretty good time, so rather than grabbing Stiles's other arm, I set about slamming every door I could find and barricading our path. I closed the first door, threw the lock, and knocked over a bunch of filing cabinets in front of it for good measure. A second later, Jackson kicked a hole through the door and kept walking, unfazed.

I groaned, but kept slamming doors until we got to the interrogation room. I threw the bolt on the door, holding my breath as I backed away. There was a thunk somewhere in the distance, a screech, but the door stayed closed. Whatever was going on outside, Jackson must have decided that there were bigger threats to worry about than the three of us. I wasn't entirely sure whether or not I found that comforting.

"Don't move," Scott ordered as he lowered Stiles onto one of the interrogation chairs. Stiles gave him an incredulous look, and Scott withered. "You know what I mean. Sadie, just stay here with him until I get back."

"What? No way!"

"Sadie, you're unarmed."

"And you're hurt!"

"Yeah, but I've got claws and super speed."

"And I've got brains. No offense." Scott gave me an unamused look, but I pushed on. "Look, I'm not crazy about leaving Stiles here, but I'm not paralyzed, there's at least one gun lying unattended out there, and your mom and Stiles's dad could still be in danger. I'm not staying here."

Scott's glare softened slowly until he gave in. "Just…stay close, okay? And stay safe."

"I know." I turned around, kissing Stiles on the forehead. "Don't worry. I'm gonna make sure your dad's alright."

"If you get hurt out there, I'm gonna kill you," he warned, though his voice was somewhat strained because of the angle of his head. I shifted his chair, sliding him down so his head wasn't hanging back quite so far.

"I know. I'll be careful. Stay safe."

I kissed him again, nodded to Scott, and then followed him out the door.

"You know the way to lock up?" he asked me over his shoulder.

"Yeah, but I want to go back to the bullpen. Matt dropped his gun, and I—"

"Woah!"

I nearly ran into Scott as he stopped short. "Ah! What—Allison?"

She'd appeared out of this air, stepping out the last corner with her crossbow at the ready. For a moment, I was relieved. After a long night of not hearing from her, it was good to know she was safe. Unlike the rest of us, she had changed out of her party clothes. Her floral dress was gone, replaced by black and leather, long sleeves and boots; the kind of outfit we'd changed into after winter formal, before we set out to kill Peter.

"Allison?" Scott echoed.

Her face did not change. She didn't smile. She didn't sigh in relief because she'd finally found us. She didn't even lower her crossbow. It stayed levelled at Scott's chest, her face blank.

"Where is Derek?"

"Allison, what's going on?" I asked.

"What are you doing?" Scott added on.

"If you're not going to tell me, then get out of my way."

"Allison…"

Scott's voice was soft, pleading, and Allison finally pulled the crossbow away from her mark.

"Where is he?" she repeated, and her voice was just as desperate as his. She was on the verge of breaking. She was breaking.

"Allison, what happened?" asked Scott, moving forward. The wrong move.

The crossbow was back in place in an instant, pointing directly at Scott's heart. "Scott—Scott, you need to stay away from me right now. I need to go. Just stay out of my way. Both of you."

Allison side stepped us and took off down the hallway the way we'd come. Scott and I looked at each other, equally shocked, equally shaken.

"Go," I told him. "Find your mom, stop Jackson. I'll deal with Allison."

He nodded without complaint, whispered good luck, and sprinted off to lockup. I turned on my heel, running back down the hall to interrogation and trying to pick up the sound of Allison's footsteps.

"Allison? Ally, just talk to me! What happened? Allison?"

I sighed, walking through another empty hallway. How she'd managed to shake me in such a small precinct, I had no idea, but she didn't seem to be around.

Wham!

My body collided with the wall, and I groaned as a thin arm pinned across my chest. I sensed the arm that was coming for my throat, blocking it only to have my arm twisted and pulled behind my back. I slammed into the wall again, chest-first this time with my cheek pressed flat against the surface.

"Don't act like you don't know what's going on," Allison hissed in my ear. "I—I don't know how I could have trusted you. You always lie."

"Ally, I—please just talk to me!"

"Shut up!" Her voice was contorted with rage. It didn't sound any different from Matt's. "Just—just stop lying to me!"

"Allison, what are you talking about?"

She released her grip on me, grabbing my shoulder so she could spin me around again. I let her turn me, then ducked under her arm. I grunted an apology as I kneed her in the stomach, sending her back a few steps. I ducked when she swiped at my head, but then she kicked me in the chest and I flew back into the wall once more. Without a second to recover, the tip of her crossbow was an inch away from my neck.

Allison panted, glaring at me just the way she had in the hospital after Lydia had been attacked.

"You—you always think you're right, don't you? That you can just—just not tell me things because you're sparing my feelings. You're so righteous, Sadie. So good."

"Allison, I know I'm not always right," I said shakily. "I make mistakes, but I don't know what you want me to say."

"No? Why don't you start by telling me why Derek bit my mother?"

"What?"

The arrow inched closer to my skin, and Allison took a step forward. "Do not play games with me, Sadie. He bit her. And do you know what happens when hunters get bitten? Do you—do you know what they do?"

Her voice broke. I didn't know what a hunter did when they got bit, not for sure, but the sinking, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that the worst thing I could possible imagine was probably right.

"Allison, I'm so—"

"Don't!" The arrow brushed my skin, threatening to slice through flesh until Allison forced herself back. "Just…don't. I know how you are with Derek. You treat him like family, and he treats you like his sister. He told you, and you—you did nothing. You did nothing to save her."

"That is not what happened, Allison! I didn't know that he bit her. All I knew was that they fought because—"

"And you didn't tell me!" she shrieked. "Because you care about him, and Derek—no, Derek is just misunderstood. He could never do anything wrong. The two of you are—you're exactly the same! You run around and you attack and you hurt people because you think you're so right, and it doesn't matter who else gets hurt! Well you know what, Sadie? He bit my mother, and now my mother is dead. S-she—she killed herself, because she didn't want to chance being a monster like him. My mother is dead. And that's your fault."

I gaped at her. "N-no. Allison, no, I didn't—"

"You didn't do anything?" She laughed derisively, then leaned closer to hiss in my face. "Now where have I heard that before? You…you didn't kill my mother, just like you didn't kill Kate. And somehow they're both dead because of you."

My lip trembled. I wanted to argue with her, but my mouth couldn't move. Allison's eyes were ice, freezing me solid as she held her bow at my throat. I felt the sting as it scratched along my skin, just short of drawing blood.

"When I find Derek, I am going to kill him. And if you get in my way again, I will not hesitate to kill you too."

Allison lifted the crossbow and disappeared down the hall, but I stayed pressed against the wall. I still felt like there was an arrow at my throat. I couldn't breathe too deeply for danger of slicing my skin. That was another family member Allison had lost. First Kate, now Victoria, both because of werewolves who said they were trying to avenge others…and because of me. Both of them were dead because of me.

My legs collapsed underneath me and I slid to the floor. I had been wrong not to tell Allison what had happened. Scott had promised to tell her, and now I knew that he never would. Even if he had the chance, even if I had the chance, could I tell Allison that her mother had tried to murder Scott? Would she believe me? Given the circumstances, probably not.

But that was not my fault, I tried to remind myself. Derek had bitten Victoria to save Scott. That face wouldn't have changed if I told Allison what had happened. If the hunter code said to kill yourself when you got the bite, then Victoria would have done it regardless. I might have been a terrible friend for not telling Allison what had happened, but that didn't make me responsible.

Kate, on the other hand…I couldn't open that can of worms again. Not tonight.

My limbs were numb by the time I managed to peel myself from the floor. Gunshots were ringing out on all sides of me. Glass was shattering, shifters howling and screeching, and then a scream somewhere on my left. Somewhere down the hall Allison had taken.

I walked as quietly as I could, ducking into the evidence room and peering cautiously down every aisle. It seemed mostly deserted until I happened upon Mr. Argent, sprawled out on his back between two shelves. More paranoid than worried, I checked for a pulse. It beat steady under my fingers, reassuring me that Allison hadn't lost both her parents in one night.

"Sorry, Mr. Argent, but I'm sure you've got another one."

I snatched the gun up from his side, checking the rounds before clicking everything back into place and turning the safety off. I continued down the rows, checking each one until I walked through a door and ended up in the garage.

Allison was lying on the floor, her limbs sprawled at awkward angles around her. Matt knelt over her, brushing the hair out of her face. The unfamiliar gun rose steady in my hands, levelling with Matt's head across the room.

"That's not creepy at all."

Matt froze, slowly standing up to his full height. He backed away from Allison's body and faced me with an easy smile. "Bennet, could you stop cockblocking me? We'd just like to enjoy a couple minutes alone."

"I'm pretty sure she's not interested. Or do you paralyze all the women you're interested in?"

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't be so cocky. You might have a gun, but I've got Jackson."

The kanima hissed from somewhere in the rafters. Terrified, but determined, I tightened my grip on the gun.

"And does he take orders from beyond the grave? Because I've got a pretty clear shot right now, and I would love a reason to shoot you point blank."

Matt had surpassed laughing. He cackled, taking a step or two toward me, but seemingly unable to leave Allison's side. He teetered back and forth on the spot, his face turning red, tears of mirth and frustration leaking from his eyes.

"You—you just really can't help yourself, can you?! You just exist to torture me! And you can't stand that Allison and I might actually be happy together! That I might actually get the girl!"

"On what planet, asshole?"

"THIS ONE!"

The whole room shook as he screamed, and Jackson's screech echoed around the room. Matt slumped forward, his hands on his knees. I hoped he might be in pain, but then he looked up at me with a frightening grin.

"You're just afraid because I'm winning. You've tried to keep me away from her from the beginning. That first day at school, I saw Allison and I—I knew that we were just meant to be together. And it took me the whole period to work up the courage to say something. I pack up my things, the bell rings, and you know what? You run right over me! Just shove me out of your way like I was nothing, and then she's gone! She went running after you just like you wanted her to! Because you needed her as far away from me as possible!"

"Wha…? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Shut up! Shut up! You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

My puzzled tone wasn't an act. I could barely remember what had happened on the first day of school. I'd met Allison on the bench outside, gone to English first period, Scott had given her his pen…

"You idiot," I laughed, as the scene finally clicked. "That wasn't because of you! I was running from Stiles! I waved to him, and I was embarrassed, and—God, you self-obsessed creep, you thought that was about you?"

Matt wasn't laughing.

"You fucking bitch," he spat, crossing the floor with increasing speed. "You can try to break us up all you want, but she's mine. Do you hear me? She is mine!"

He started out at a sprint and I pulled the trigger without thinking twice. Matt screamed as his right shoulder ripped back, blood seeping through his shirt from the wound on his arm. He swore loudly and stopped in his tracks. Before he could regain his composure, a second bang rang through the garage, this time echoing from somewhere inside.

Matt turned to look at me, glaring venom as he clutched his shoulder. I could see him deliberating, fighting with his obvious, unfounded hatred of me, his desire to get away from my gun, and his need to investigate what was going on inside. I kept the gun steady and my expression hard, daring him to try again.

It was almost a full minute, but Matt finally took a step back. A few more steps, and he turned around to run out a different door and back inside the precinct. I listened closely for the sound of claws, for a tail swiping through the air, but there was nothing. Wherever Jackson was hiding, he must have gone back inside with his master.

A hand came down on my wrist, disarming me before I could get off another shot. I nearly screamed, but Mr. Argent stepped in front of me, one hand to his lips and the other up in surrender. I deflated, taking a step toward Allison, but he blocked me. He pointed to me, then the door that Matt had left through. He pointed to himself and Allison, then the door to the evidence room.

"You deal with that. I'll get her out of here."

I narrowed my eyes, taking another step toward her, but he blocked me again. I must have been imagining it, but his face seemed to soften as he shook his head. He pushed me back toward the building, gentle even in his command, and then walked over to scoop up his daughter's body.

I watched them walk away, torn. I wanted more than anything to talk to Allison, but the Argents had dealt with enough for one night. The rest of us still had fighting to do.

Afraid an unarmed, I couldn't barge down the hallway like I wanted to. It was a long journey back to the interrogation room, listening for any sound that might tip me off that someone was coming my way. Growls and screams still echoed around the building, but the longer the fight went on, the better I was at placing them. I wasn't in any immediate danger, for now.

The relief was fleeting. I turned the final corner to the interrogation room, only to find that the door was already open.

"Stiles…?"

I inched forward, holding my breath as I approached the door frame. I couldn't handle any more bad news today. If Stiles was lying on the floor, bleeding, hurt, or…

The room was empty. The chair Stiles had been slumped in was knocked over onto its side and he was nowhere to be found. I took that to be a good sign. At the very least, the floor wasn't caked in blood, and there were no signs of a struggle. Now, I just needed to figure out where he'd gone.

Without a second thought, I raced toward lockup. If Stiles had regained any mobility at all, the first thing he would do is find his father. I didn't escape my notice that the growls and yells were growing louder the closer I got to the cells, but I didn't have much of a choice. There wasn't enough time to double back for Matt's gun, and there wasn't much I could pick up along the way. The best I would be able to do was cause a distraction, grab Stiles, and pray he was ready to run.

There was another hiss, another roar, louder now as the fight was chased out into the hall. I pressed myself to the wall as two shapes burst out of the room: Jackson, then Derek, headed down the hall away from me.

I ran forward and nearly fell flat on my face. Stiles was stretched across the hallway on his stomach, hands clawing at the tile as he tried to pull himself into the next room. He yelped as I accidentally kicked his leg, and I dropped to my knees beside him.

"God, you scared the crap out of me! Are you okay?"

"Dad." Stiles grabbed at the walls, still desperately trying to get up. "Go—please just check my dad."

"O-okay, just stay here."

I jumped up with new purpose, running the last few paces into the room and stopping short. In an instant, I forgot what Stiles had told me to do. In an instant, everything stopped.

Scott was standing in the middle of the floor, sully shifted into his wolf form—his pointed ears, hair on his face, his eyes shining bright gold under a bulky brow. In the cell beyond him stood his mother, her hands clasped over her mouth and he eyes full of fear.

"N-no," she whimpered, taking step after step away from the bars. "No, no, no…"

I watched as Scott teetered, desperate to go to her, but afraid she would shrink away. His shoulders sagged and his head dropped against his chest.

"Scott?"

Both of them looked over at me in surprise. I didn't want to intrude, but I wouldn't stand by and watch Scott in pain—physical or emotional. I heard Melissa's shaky gasp when I ran forward, throwing my arms around Scott's shoulders and pulling him into a hug. I patted down his hair, just as he'd done for me in Lydia's bedroom. His shoulders shook beneath my grasp, and he wrapped a weak arm around my waist.

"Derek went after Jackson," I said softly, pulling back to stroke his face. "I don't know where Matt went, but I'm not sure how far he'll make it with all the hunters. Also I kinda shot him so…you should probably go."

"But…"

"Scott, I can handle this. It's okay. Go."

He looked at me for a few seconds, but finally nodded. He glanced over his shoulder to his mother. She was silent now, cowering in the far corner of her cell and watching us both apprehensively.

I grabbed Scott's chin and forced him to look back at me before I kissed him on the cheek. "It's gonna be okay. Go on."

I forced my face into a smile, and Scott squeezed my hand. He still looked broken, but we both knew that there was nothing to be done. His mother would come around in time. For now, she needed to be on her own.

Scott ran out of the room after Derek, and I turned my attention back to the holding cell. Mrs. McCall pressed herself into the shadows as I approached, but I stopped at the bench along the wall. Sheriff Stilinski was lying on his stomach, knocked out cold. One wrist was still bound in a handcuff, attached to the steel plate that had previously been mounted to the wall. I winced as I examined the cut on his head, no doubt left behind by Matt, but besides a bit of bruising and blood, he seemed to be alright. I rolled him into a more comfortable position, closer to the holding cell, then unclipped the small ring of keys from his waist.

"I know it's a lot to take in," I started softly. "There's…a lot of really weird things in this town—werewolves and lizard people and hunters, but…you should know that Scott's a good person. He's done a lot for this town, and for his friends, and for people he doesn't even know. I know it'll take some time to get used to it, but…he's still Scott. He's not a monster. Actually, he's sort of a hero."

Mrs. McCall didn't say anything. The fear in her eyes didn't fade for a moment. She was probably scared that I would morph into something next; I tried not to be hurt by that. Everything she knew about the world had just changed. Trust wasn't something she would be doling out any time soon.

I dropped the keys through the bars for her.

"Here. You should be able to break yourself out now. When the sheriff wakes up, you can just tell him you were able to reach the keys from his belt. I…don't think you should mention the rest of this. I mean, you can if you want to, but…"

I sighed. It was hard to say that without sounding threatening.

"I hope you have a good night, Mrs. McCall," I said lamely. "I'm glad you're safe."

With that, I turned around, walking back the way I came and not looking back.

Stiles was still on the ground when I found him, thought he'd pushed himself up into a sitting position on the wall. "Is he okay? What's—"

"He's fine, Stiles. He's unconscious, and he might have a concussion depending on how hard Matt hit him, but considering the way he pried that plate from the wall to free himself, I think you should be pretty damn proud of the shape he's in."

"What about Scott's mom?"

"She's…well…she'll come around."

"That bad?" he asked glumly. "I heard Scott run out, but I only caught about half of what you said. Does she know everything?"

"Not everything. That's gonna take time. But she knows enough. The rest is up to her." I looped his offered arm over my shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Do you think you can walk or should I give you a piggyback ride?"

"Nah, I'm fine." He took a shaky step forward, and while I was still supporting a lot of his weight, we didn't fall over. "So what was the deal with Matt? I missed out on everything getting stuck with Derek."

"Well, the rational bit is that he almost drowned when he was a kid. Lahey threw a party for the swim team and Isaac's brother threw Matt into the pool. None of them helped him, so he decided to murder them all."

"That's the rational part?"

I snorted as we rounded a corner, heading back toward the front desk. "It made sense at the time. And it makes a lot more sense than his delusion that I've been out to sabotage his chances with Allison since the first day of school."

"I don't know, I think that one is more likely."

"Oh, come on. I didn't even know Matt until after Christmas. I'm still a new girl, remember?"

"I know, I know. I'm just kidding. Sure Allison's gonna find that pretty funny, too."

A wave of cold washed over me as I remembered Allison—her emotionless face as she pressed an arrow to my neck, her still body lying beneath Matt's predatory gaze, her voice breaking as she told me it was my fault her mother had died…

"Sadie?"

"Hm?"

"What's wrong?" Stiles was watching me closely, anticipating my answer. "And don't say 'nothing' cause we've had like…a really messed up day."

I sighed, lowering him into a chair against one of the few windows that was still intact. I thought about the words, trying to figure out the best way to say it, but my brain was rapidly growing too tired for tact. Stiles was right: we'd had a really messed up day.

"Allison's mom killed herself."

Stiles blinked up at me in horror. "W-what? Why?"

"Because Derek bit her. That night at the rave, when he tried to stop her from killing Scott. So he bit her, and according to the hunter code, that means she's got to die."

"And Allison still doesn't know what happened?"

"No, I…I didn't really get a chance to tell her that her mother tried to murder her boyfriend between Allison telling me that it was my fault she was dead and that she'd kill me if I got in her way."

"What? No, that's—that's so not—Sadie, that—"

"I know it's not my fault," I said hollowly. "It just doesn't make it any easier."

"Yeah. I guess not."

A sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over me, and I curled up on the floor next to Stiles's chair. I leaned my head against his knee, shivering as the cold tile pressed against my bare legs. I'd nearly forgotten I was still in my dress, but now the adrenaline was wearing off, and I could feel myself crashing.

Stiles managed to lay a hand on my head, curling my hair around his fingers in a comforting way.

"Hey, just…just try not to worry about it right now. Everything's gonna work out. I know everything sort of sucks right now, but…I'm not giving up on you no matter how bad things get. Okay?"

I nodded against his leg, too tired to look up at him. I tried to focus on my breathing and decided to let my eyes flutter shut, just for a few minutes…

It wasn't until Stiles jostled my shoulder that I opened my eyes. My shoulders were covered in his flannel shirt, and I was sitting in the chair he'd previously occupied. However long I'd been asleep, it was long enough for him to regain independent use of his legs.

"Jackson's gone and so is Matt," Scott informed us, jogging directly through the front door that had once been made of glass. "I followed them halfway down to the river, but all the hunters were headed that way too. I wanted to make sure you guys were safe. Oh, and I've got your phones…"

"We're fine," Stiles assured him, as Scott fumbled with our phones, "but we need to start working on a story. Next shift's gonna be here in an hour or two and I don't know how we're gonna explain our way out of this one."

"Well…what if we don't?" Scott offered.

"Um…then we get arrested?"

"No, I mean, let's just tell them what happened…sort of. We knew Matt was the killer, we convinced your dad, we came here, Matt held everyone hostage."

"Okay, and what do we tell them about the four deputies killed in a wild animal attack? Or the blown out windows?"

"We don't," Scott said with a shrug. "We can just say that Matt had us delete the files, kept us in the office, and then ran off. We don't have to have an answer for everything. Your dad was in lockup most of the time, so he never saw Jackson or the Argents, and my mom…"

There was an awful pause, and after a few seconds, I cleared my throat.

"I can take her home. I can talk to her again if you want, but—"

"No, no, no, she's not going anywhere," Stiles interrupted, "and you're not staying."

"What? Stiles, I told you, I'm fine."

"Yeah, and even if I believed that, you couldn't stay. My dad doesn't know about anything that happened. All he knows is that Melissa was in that cell before he woke up, and that you weren't here at all. If you don't want your mom barricading you in your room for the rest of the semester, it's got to stay that way. You were never here."

"He's right," Scott agreed before I had the chance to argue. "We're fine, so is Derek, and…so is Allison."

Stiles and I glanced at each other as covertly as we could, but Scott gave us a sad smile.

"Guys, it's okay. Super hearing, remember? I heard Allison the first time. Sadie, you…you know it's not your fault, right?"

"Yeah, I know. You know it's not yours, right?"

Scott nodded solemnly. Like me, he didn't seem comforted by the knowledge.

"The point is, things are as good as they're gonna get here," he continued. "You should call Deaton, let him know we're okay. What did you find out about Lydia?"

In an instant, the last few hours replayed in my head. The party, my father, Lydia, Peter, Matt, Jackson, Allison. I didn't want to relive it all again, but more than that, I didn't want to crush the hopeful look on Scott's face. I didn't want to have to tell him that the werewolf that bit him had been resurrected, that it was Lydia's fault, that we had no idea where he was or where to start looking. Not after the night he'd had.

"They couldn't find her," Stiles answered for me, massaging my shoulder. "Deaton stayed out to look while Sadie and Derek came here to save our asses."

Scott nodded, not questioning my silence. "I'm sorry, Sadie. If we'd been paying more attention, then—"

"Scott, don't." I stood up, shaking my head. "It's not anyone's fault. But you're right. I should go find her. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. My stomach's just about healed. Now I just have to figure out what to say to the sheriff about it." He grinned as I shook my head, then pulled me into a fierce hug. "Thank you. For everything."

"Anything you need, Scott. Always."

He squeezed my shoulders, clearing his throat as he took a step back. "I think I'm gonna go clear up those smoke bombs the Argents left in the bullpen. The less evidence there is that they were here. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Sadie."

Scott ducked out of the room, leaving Stiles and I alone once more.

"We should have told him."

"No, we shouldn't," Stiles said, taking my hand. He walked me out the door, looking around the parking lot as we headed for the van. "Look, I know why you didn't want to say anything. We're all dealing with a lot of shit right now, but with his mom…Scott can wait another twenty-four hours before we put something else on his plate. He's in for a worse week than either of us."

"I know. I just feel like I'm always bitching about communication and telling each other the truth, but when it comes down to it…"

"Then you realize you can't make blanket statements like that because every situation is different?"

"Shut up, smartass." I narrowed my eyes, elbowing him gently in the ribs before pulling him into a hug. "Thank you for making that decision for me."

"You're welcome. Are you sure you're okay to drive? You were pretty comatose a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Are you sure you're okay to stay?"

"Well, I'd love to go home, but I've gotta stay with my dad. So, yeah, I'm okay. Text me when you find Lydia."

"Okay. And Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

I grabbed his face, pulling him forward to kiss me. Just the feeling of his lips woke me up a bit, and I grinned as I peeled myself away from him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He let me take a few steps back before grabbing my wrist, pulling me back against his chest. "Hey, I mean it. I love you, Sadie."

"I know. I love you too, dork."

"Oh, well if that's how it's gonna be…" He smirked, kissing my forehead before pushing me toward the car. "Go on. Let me know when you get home alright."

Stiles stayed in the parking lot as I drove off, both of us watching until the other disappeared from view. I tried not to think about the time as I rested my phone on the dashboard. How long had Lydia been wandering around the woods this time? Was the connection broken now that Peter was alive? Or was she still walking around in a trance in the freezing cold?

I didn't have to wonder for long. As it turned out, I had several missed calls from an unknown number, and one new voicemail.

"Sadie, this is Dr. Deaton. I just wanted to let you know that I found Lydia. She was shake, and very confused, but she's perfectly fine. She asked to be taken home, but I got the feeling you'd prefer she not be left alone. I'll be watching the house should anything go wrong, but I suspect she'll have no trouble falling asleep. Please call me as soon as you can. I'd like to know that you and the others are safe. This is my cell phone, so you'll be able to reach me at any time. As requested."

I laughed, coming to a full stop at the corner so I could run my hands down my face in relief. She was okay. Lydia was okay, she was at home, and she was safe. We'd survived a full on hostage situation, been drugged with wolfsbane, faced kanimas and killers, and lived to tell the tale one more time. It had been a truly messed up day, but at least something had gone right.

I pushed the speed limit to make it home as fast as I could, and briefly texted Deaton to let him know that we were alive and I was on my way. His black car was parked on the curb opposite the house. He climbed out as I pulled into the driveway, crossing the street to meet me.

"How is she?" I asked immediately.

"Lydia is fine. She was still struggling when I found her, but she became lucid fairly quickly. She's quite smart, your friend. She seemed to know instinctively that I knew more than I was letting on. Demanded to know where you were and what was going on."

"Sounds like Lydia," I said, fighting a smile. "And the nightmares…?"

"Without knowing how her connection with Peter was initially formed, it's hard to say. I would presume to guess that, now that Peter has returned to his body, he won't be haunting her thoughts anymore."

"Not supernaturally anyway. She's probably scarred for life."

"I think we all are, in some ways. Lydia will have her nightmares, just as you have yours. The important thing is helping each other to cope." He offered me a kind smile, and ignored my halfhearted shrug. "Tell me about what happened at the precinct."

I glanced anxiously at the door to the house, but knew there was no way around reliving the story at least one more time. Deaton was one of the bet allies we had, regardless of how little he liked to share with us. It was still in our best interests to keep him in the loop.

And so I launched into a recap of the night's events, everything from Matt's backstory to Mrs. McCall's poor reaction to her son. When I finished, Deaton looked troubled.

"You said Matt and Jackson were headed for the river? And Gerard went after them?"

"Well yeah, Gerard and the rest of the hunters. They were hunting them, after all."

"Yes…maybe…"

The word punctured the small bubble of contentment I'd managed to cultivate since making it out of the station, and I sagged against the van. "Alright. Give me the rest of the bad news."

Deaton frowned, his hands clasped in front of him.

"As I've said before, I've known Gerard a long time. He always has a plan, and while he may preach his family's code, I've never known him to be the most sensitive when it comes to the loss of innocent lives."

"So you don't think he cares that people are dying?"

"I think that the kanima has a very unique skill set, and that skill set may interest Gerard more than the chance to protect the common citizen of Beacon Hills."

I stared at Deaton simultaneously horrified and completely unsurprised. "He wants to control the kanima?"

"I can't say for certain, but I think it's likely, yes."

"Perfect," I groaned. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear at the end of a night like this."

"Well, I thought you might prefer it to me leaving you without offering my insight again." He smirked as I threw him my most tired and unamused look. "Go inside, Sadie. Check on your friend, get some sleep. With any luck, you might be able to enjoy the rest of your spring break in peace."

"Right. With what luck?"

He patted my shoulder before he walked away. Somehow, it managed to seem comforting and patronizing at the same time.

I did not wait for him to drive away before I headed inside. So much information had been crammed into my brain that it felt as though the surface was melting, sticking to the insides of my skull and threatening to ooze out of my head completely. If I didn't shut down soon, I was certain it would result in a meltdown.

I opened the door and immediately screamed. I stumbled back, tripping onto the porch and nearly falling down the stairs.

"Oh, God, it's just you," Lydia sighed. She dropped the rolling pin she had been aiming at my head and hurried to pull me into the house. "Get in here."

"Lydia, what the hell are you doing?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just…a little jumpy, is all."

"Yeah, well…I guess I can't blame you." I closed the front door behind me, throwing all the available locks and tugging on the handle for good measure. "Deaton thought you'd be asleep."

"As if," Lydia scoffed, but she stared down at the carpet. She tugged at the bottom of her robe, picking at the hem. "You weren't here when I got home, and he wouldn't tell me where you were. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"If I was okay? Lydia, I'm more worried about you. Are you okay?"

"I…I don't know." She pressed her hands against her face, her nails raking through her hairline as she stared into space. "No. I—I'm really not, Sadie. I'm not okay."

Her voice broke, but I was hugging her before she started to cry. She sobbed into my shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs and chills. I ushered her to the stairs, helping her sit down so she wouldn't collapse. I sat next to her so she could burrow into my chest, hunched over into my lap and sobbing until her very voice sounded raw. We sat there for hours, until the sky outside started to get lighter, pitch black giving way to deep blue.

When Lydia's exhaustion began to set in, I coaxed her upstairs to her bedroom. Without words, I climbed into bed next to her. Lydia tugged my arm around her waist and held it against her chest.

I knew it would only be a few hours before our mothers got home. We'd have to clean the house and cook brunch. We'd have to face them as if everything that had happened today had been normal. I'd have to explain to Lydia everything that she'd missed in the past year, and prepare her for everything that was going to happen in the future.

But for the first time in months, when Lydia and I fell asleep, neither of us had a bad dream.