Solar eclipse:

A solar eclipse brings sudden and unexpected change to your life.

Rolling up the sleeves of the black dress shirt I had flung on with a hole free pair of tights I waltzed into the kitchen. Josh and mum had the good sense not to follow. My eyes stung as I reached for the first box of cereal I could find in the cupboard. Low growls of hunger echoed from my empty stomach, I hadn't been able to eat before the funeral.

The turn out had been shocking, even his parents didn't seem to want to be there. Once news had spread of Matt's involvement with the deaths of the 2006 swim team anyone associated with him had cut their ties. No one had anything good to say about the murderous photographer who had lurked in the shadows. His parents had been horrified when I had arrived for the ceremony, it was common knowledge that he had shot me.

I had almost laughed as they ushered me past the buzzing wall of journalist and photographers. Matt would have liked the attention even if his parents didn't. Now that I was home I could relax and let the fierce emotions that had filled my head out. Tugging the fridge door open with more force than necessary I stared blankly at the contents. With a groan I rested my head against the cold shelve of the refrigerator hoping the temperature would ease my headache.

"Emma? Hey your mum let me in," I didn't bother looking up as Stiles spoke. Instead I plucked the cartoon from the door and proceeded to pour milk over the brightly coloured cereal. With a spoon held tightly between my teeth I carried the overflowing bowl to the table and settled down. Only then did I look up at the boy. His hands ringing the bottom of his plaid shirt nervously as I held his stare. The words seemed to jump from his mouth before he could register them, "you alright?" His face twisted with regrets as he realised what he had asked.

The spoon hovered inches from my mouth as I took in his words. After taking a deep breath I bit back dryly, "I just watched my best friend be buried, what do you think?"

Pulling a face he spat out a disbelieving, "best friend?"

Milk covered the table as my spoon dropped into the bowl. My expression darkened and my words dripped with venom, "yes despite what he did Matt is, was, my best friend."

Stiles throw his hands into the air and whined, "seriously!"

"I'm not in the mood Stiles," I snarled. Just looking at his idiotic face made the headache I'd calmed rear its ugly head. With a growl of frustration I shot upwards and turned my back to him. Slamming my hands down onto the counter top I tried my best not to scream at him.

He wasn't getting the hint. Instead of stopping while he could Stiles continued to dig, "but seriously you're mourning him? He killed people Emma, He shot Scott in front of his mum, he shot you for god sake!"

I whirled round to face him. I spoke slowly and punctuated each word in the hope that he would drop the subject, "he, made, mistakes."

"Mistakes?!" Stiles spat back. He moved closer as he continued to criticize me, "he didn't just take a wrong turn Emma he drove the car straight of the road and into the crazy tree. You can't seriously still feel for him. My dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. Did you know? You did, didn't you! Geez Em."

By the time he had finished his rant he was within reaching distance. I muttered under my breath as I shoved my way past him, "don't call me that. None of us are perfect."

Stiles wouldn't let that comment slide by unnoticed. Hanging his head dramatically, the boy looked completely done. "None of us are murders," his words hung in the air as I paced the kitchen. Part of me agreed with him. Matt had killed people and he didn't deserve the pain I felt. However he had also been my sole friend for so many years that the idea of going on without him hurt like hell.

"He described it to me once. Drowning. Did you know you don't actually inhale until right before you black out." Why was I telling him this?

He nodded back before adding, "yeah it's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful."

"It isn't."

"What isn't," he pried.

I stopped moving and threw him a dirty look. My words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them, "dying it isn't peaceful."

"Going to take the word of a murderous stalker over scientific theory?"

"I don't need his word Stiles. I know what it's like to die."

Stiles' brows furrowed. Taking a step toward me he questioned caustionally, "how did you get those scars?"

"Get out," I snarled. Like I'd tell him! He wouldn't understand. The only person who would have understood had been buried today. My hand swung down and flung the half filled bowl of cereal into the air. The china shattered as it slammed into the cabinet beside Stiles head. Milk dropped down the wooden door. While Stiles eyed the mess I'd made as I continued to shout, "GET OUT!"

The kitchen door swung open and my mother's sugary voices filled the room, "hunny is everything okay?" I didn't reply. Her eyes fell on the mess behind Stiles.

"Sorry Mrs King, I was just leaving," I didn't bother turning to watch him leave.

After Stiles had left I had abandoned the mess in the kitchen and hid away in my room. Evening arrived and I had no intention of leaving my room. I passed the time by reading anything in could I get my hands on. Blogs, books, my own messy notes. Wasted hours skimming through any information on the supernatural. My brain trying to figure out a way I could prevent myself from ever feeling so powerless again.

Days passed after Matt's funeral and I did my absolute best not to engage in any more conversation with Stiles, or anyone for that matter. Every time someone talked to me they erupted into a series of questions. Did I know Matt was crazy? How could you not notice your best friend was a killer? What was getting shot like? Even Lydia had been curious the first day I'd returned to school after the entire incident.

Audrey was the only one not trying to pry information out of me. She had actively been avoiding me. Leaving rooms as I entered, sending freshman to deliver messages she could have just text over. I knew why she was doing it. This was her last term at Beacon Hill and after the summer she was off to New York. She had landed herself a full ride at some fancy journalism school and she clearly didn't want any scandals following her.

It stung a bit that she had cut me so easily out of her life. Though the worse part had been her absence at Matt's funeral. In all honesty it had shocked me, Audrey was usually the first to defy the common opinion. Plus Matt had always been closer to her than I had. While looking for her at the funeral I had spotted a face I really hadn't expected. Ms Morrell. Now that we were back at school I knew why she had infiltrated the event. As time passed she was actively seeking out anyone who had come into contact with Matt and I was number one on her list.

The young women had been kind in her own cryptic way. She had let me sit in her office not talking about anything for the entire appointment. She had actually been the one who had suggested that I attend the last lacrosse match of the season. According to Ms Morrell it might help remind me of more positive aspects of my relationship with Matt. She was one of the few, no the only person, I had spoken to that seemed to feel sorry for dead boy. It was almost like she knew there was more to the story.

I had taken her advice or I had at least tried to. I hadn't made it further than the carpark. Swinging my legs out Of my open door I paused. The car park was empty and as much as Ms Morrell seemed to think being surrounded by crowds would help I had my doubts. Instead I lit up a cigarette and stayed on my perch.

I listen to the crowds as they erupted into cheers. "Who do you think they're cheering for?" The question carried through the night air. Turning my head slightly I eyed the intruder. Isaac, in full school kit, sidled up to my car and lent causally against the closed back doors.

"I really don't care," I replied honestly.

Isaac glanced down at me and for a split second I saw something lingering in his eyes. I couldn't quite place the look he gave me but it was vastly different from the self assured glared he had become so good at giving. His sudden appearance had peaked my interest. Though my opinion soon changed as he spoke, "I get it, it's harder to feel bad when they,"

Any curiosity I had had about him crumbled away at his words. I couldn't stop myself shooting back a sneer as I cut him off, "they what, lock you in a freezer? Beat the crap out of you? Watch children drown? Don't try to compare them."

Lifting his hands up in defeat he gave me a knowing look before adding, "just letting you know I get it."

"How wonderful, should we start a club?" Sarcasm coated my words. A silence settled around us another load of cheers echoed through the empty car park. This time it was easier to hear the other schools chants. Shaking my head I went to apologise, sure I had lost my friend but Isaac as now officially an orphan. Before I could say anything he lifted his hand again. The meaning was clear. He was telling me I didn't need to apologise. Perhaps he did get it. Nudging him with my knee I encouraged him to leave, "go sounds like they need all the help they can get."

I stayed in the carpark long then expected. the crowds cheers were oddly soothing as they echoed around the school grounds. It was only as the game came to an end that the noises changed. The flood lights flickered and cheers twisted into screams. I didn't have time to process what the crowd were yelling at as two large figures marched across the tarmac a familiar scrawny teen between them. Sinking backwards into my drivers seat I eyed the group wearily. Stiles had definitely not volunteered to this little outing that much was clear.

I hadn't even considered the consequences as I sped after the unmarked van Stiles had been bundled into only moments earlier. I couldn't say I was overly surprised when we it finally pulled up outside Allison's house. Though what the Argents wanted with Stiles was begun me. Surely Scott and Isaac were more their usual victims. Snatching my camera bag from the passage seat I slid from the car. I didn't notice the hunter behind me until he had slammed my body down onto the bonnet of my car and pinned my arms behind my back. Once again the churning feeling of weakness twisted in my stomach. Though a small smile slide onto my lips as he snatched my camera bag from hand, maybe this time would be slightly different.

Gerard was the first recognisable voice I heard as I was escorted through the house."They were trying to warn you. It's electrified."

The hunter who had pulled me from my car wrenched me forward until I was standing near the centre of the room. His tight grip bruising my elbow as he held me steady. My eyes lingered on Boyd and Erica. The poor teens had been strung up my their wrists and were clearly in pain. Their eyes glowed fiercely as they glared down at the hunters, fangs bared and teeth snapping.

"Emma?!" I shift my gaze to Stiles who was clutching is hand to his chest. Gerard words made more sense now. Stiles had obviously tried to free the young wolves only to be shocked by the current flowing through them.

I didn't bother replying. I was more interested in the hunter that had brought me in. His grip on my arm had loosened and his free hand had curled up to his neck. My smile twisted into something more sinister as he finally let go of my completely in an attempt to claw at an invisible noose. It had worked.

Though my triumph was short lived as Gerard sunk his hand into the camera bag that hung forgot around the other man's torso. The older hunter fished out a small bundle of lungwort and peppermint bound together a thick piece of twine knotted to resemble a hangman's noose. With one swift movement Gerard pulled the string and let the mixture of leaves and purple flowers flutter uselessly to the floor. As the first petal fell the hunters tortured gasps turned to noisy gulps as he sucked at the air around him greedily.

"Little girls shouldn't be playing with such dangerous things," dispute his fatherly tone it was clear he wasn't happy I had brought something supernatural into his home.

Perhaps I was feeling over confident what with my brief taste of success. I stepped forward letting the dried leaves crumble under my feet as I sneered back at him, "But it's okay for them to burn houses down or help raid police stations?" How dare he. I was only looking for a way to be safe. A way to protect myself and my friends. At least nobody was forcing me into a family business surrounded by blurred morals and secrets!

As if he sensed my new found confidence Stiles hooked a hand round my shoulder and pulled my backwards. "What are you doing with them?" He asked shifting the conversation away from me.

Gerard seemed happy to give the boy his full attention even if I was still seething. " At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their Alpha's too strong."

Stiles glanced back again at the two werewolves before glancing round the room one last time. Stepping around me, he blocked me from the recovering hunter's murderous glare before addressing Gerard again. "Okay. So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine." By the end of his little speech I was glaring at his back. How did any of that help us? All he had done was give Gerard more reason to get rid of us and probably not in a particularly pleasant manner.

"You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski," Gerard replied back easily. The hunter didn't look at all conceded by the idea of Scott finding us. In fact he seemed almost amused by Stiles' little monologue. "Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?"

Stiles stood taller. His chest pushed out like an over confident cockerel as he bit back, "I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know? What - what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room."

The Hunter didn't bother replying. With one swift punch he had sent Stiles crashing to the floor. Before I could do anything to help my arms had been grabbed by the same lackey as earlier. After several heavy hits Gerard let us go. We had been thrust out the door hastily and it hadn't taken us long to stumble to my car. Stiles' arm slung helplessly over my shoulder as I dragged him toward the vehicle. He was trying his best to mask the pain shooting through his body with each step. Gerard hadn't held back. The old man clearly still had some fight in him and from the thick bruising that was beginning to develop under Stiles' eye it was obvious he was more dangerous then I had ever suspected.

Neither of us spoke until we had parked up in my driveway. I was too busy fretting about our get away. Finding myself question whether anyone was following us or if an ambush lie in wait. My nerves refused to settle during the entire journey. Stiles on the other hand seemed to be focused on hiding his injuries as he shifted awkwardly in the passage seat trying to ease the pressure on his battered body. No way he could take that many hits and not be in pain.

It didn't take me long to notice Stiles hovering near the bushes that blocked of his driveway. He wanted to say something his need to talk was clear as his fingers twisted the hem of his jersey and his feet bounced restlessly against the pebbled drive. With a deep breath he turned and questioned me, "what was that, thing Gerard found?"

His question through me off a bit as I glanced back at him. I wasn't sure what I had expected from him but that wasn't it. I sent him a one shouldered shrug and replied carelessly, "just something I saw in a book, I didn't like how helpless I felt when…"

"Would it have killed him?" Stiles words cut through my explanation.

"I doubt it was that potent."

Stiles pinned me with a hard glare. His hand waving frantically in my direction. He looked like a disappointed parent scolding a toddler. "You doubt? Oh my god you didn't know what it would do did you?"

I didn't have a good enough reply. He was right I could have killed the man but I was doing it to save him. Surely saving a friend was more important then this idiotic morale compass him and Scott seemed so obsessed with. They just didn't understand it. Neither of them had lost anyone, not yet. Deciding not to answer him I shot back a sneer of my own, "least I didn't get the crap beaten out of me. You look terrible."

"That's the point isn't it. It isn't meant to hurt me, Its meant to hurt Scott," Stiles groaned as he throw his arms into the air in frustration. Did you really think it was only Scott that would be affected by his pain? Did he seriously believe Scott was the only one trying to look out for him.

"It doesn't just hurt Scott, honestly I don't know if I can deal with this," I hadn't even realised I had spoken aloud until Stiles paused.

He was silent for a moment before sending curious look my way. His words laced with intrigue, "with what?"

I groaned I hadn't really intended on him hearing that. The words had just tumbled out. The problem was now that I had started I couldn't seem to stop. Before I could think about how best to phrase my thoughts I began to ramble at the bruised and battered boy in front of me. My words becoming harsher the longer I spoke, "this fear. I'm terrified of losing someone else, of losing Lydia, Allison, Scott…you. I just don't think I can do this anymore. All we seem to do is find new and seemly more dangerous problems for ourselves. I'm done. I don't want anything else to do with werewolves or kanimas or whatever monster you all piss of next."

"You can't just walk away from this," was all he whispered back.

I turned and snarled, "watch me." I didn't hang around to hear his reply. I didn't even bother answering when he text later in the evening. No I had been completely serious about not wanting anymore to do with the pack and their ever growing list of problems.