Chapter 42: The Pill

After discussing the swim team-angle and Scott desperately trying to avoid her informative talks on safe use of condoms, she and Scott decided they needed more help. With the murders, not the condoms. The next day they made a house visit to the Stilinskis.

It seemed like every time Sheriff Stilinski laid eyes on Joe, his face fell and his shoulders slumped. Either she had really bad timing or it was like he knew her presence meant more work than he was comfortable with. When he opened the door to the Stilinski house and spotted her and Scott, he let out a deep sigh.

"Joe," he said with a solemn nod and repeated the gesture to Scott, who was perched behind her. "Scott." His eyes returned to her. "I told you, I've been suspended from my position as sheriff and I can't help you. Not with interviews or Mr. Carter's-"

"All the murder victims was on the 2006 swim team!" Joe blurted out and held up a 2006-yearbook Scott had borrowed from the school library as a shield in front of her. "And Mr. Lahey was the coach!"

His stare lasted a full second before he scrunched his face in a grimace. He groaned: "Not you too. Fine. Come on, get in."

Even though he seemed to have second thoughts, he invited them in and shouted for Stiles to get down here. It sounded like an elephant bounding down the stairs. She imagined Stiles had been perched at the top, eavesdropping, as he brandished another 2006-yearbook when he skidded into the kitchen.

"Swim team?" he asked in a loud, excited voice and did a fist-pump when Joe nodded. "Yes!"

Sheriff Stilinski, looking every bit a policeman even in normal clothes, gave all of them a slow headshake. He held up a half-filled carafe. "Coffee?" As she nodded and the two boys perked up, he shook his head at them with narrowed eyes. "You don't get coffee. Especially not you, Stiles."

"What did I do?" Stiles asked, innocent as always, and blinked in confusion. He seemed over it fast enough and tore his copy of the yearbook open on the page showing the entire 2006 swim team with another photo of Coach Lahey down on the page. He then dragged Scott away to conduct a tense whispered conversation in the corner.

Joe sat down by the table and leaned forwards to see the highlighted names of the victims, including one Marc Bennett she guessed was the unknown Argent-hunter.

As Sheriff Stilinski put a cup of coffee down for Joe, he asked in a tired voice: "Okay, what'ya got?"

"Uh, that was pretty much it," Joe admitted, putting both hands around the warm mug.

Sheriff Stilinski did not look particularly impressed and he glanced over at the whispering boys in the corner with another sigh. "Okay. So no suspect and no motive, nothing that's more compelling than the same car spotted at three different crime scenes?"

"What car?" Joe asked instantly, thinking of the SUV. And also of her own Ford Fiesta, as she'd been frequenting most of the crime scenes as well, either before, during or after the murders. "What crime scenes?"

Seemingly against his better judgment, Sheriff Stilinski listed: "Trailer, hospital and rave. Two different cars have been spotted at the same locations, but only one of them is distinct enough to be conclusive. Tire tracks at the trailer matches the description of a car spotted at the hospital and warehouse at the time of the murders."

"That's circumstantial at best," Joe protested, silently relieved her own car wasn't mentioned. "There were dozens of cars at the rave and there are probably hundreds of cars at the hospital every day. And same car does not equal the same driver. And what about the three others?"

"No links. Some reports of a suspicious silver SUV cruising around, but nothing substantial." He seemed to agree with her though and shrugged with one shoulder. "They're bringing him in for questioning, not arresting him."

"Who?"

"That's conf-"

"Mr. Harris!" Stiles almost shouted as he launched himself into the chair next to Joe. At his father's groan, he shrugged innocently. "What? You told me, we can tell Joe!"

The name was familiar and she scrunched her face up, looking at Scott for confirmation. "Your Chemistry-teacher?"

"And Physics," Stiles added and flipped through the yearbook. "All the victims except Kara was in Harrris' class in 2006. And except Coach Lahey, of course, which is pretty circumstantial to show that Mr. Harris is not the killer!"

It seemed like this was not a new conversation. "There's physical evidence linking him-"

"His car!"

"-to three crime scenes," Sheriff Stilinski finished, unpertubed by Stiles' outburst. "Even if the victims weren't all in his class, they were still students at the high school and he could possibly have interacted with them at any other point."

"You got a motive for him?" Joe asked and leaned back in her chair. Stiles did a 'thank you'-gesture and glared at his dad.

"No," Sheriff Stilinski admitted. "Not yet. That's what the questioning's for. Look, guys, I appreciate you're trying to help, but one, I'm no longer the Sheriff. That means I'm off the case. And two, this swim team connection? It doesn't make a difference."

"Not yet," Scott said from where he stood next to the table. "But Joe's got a theory."

Joe winced a bit at Scott's words, especially with the Stilinskis' expectant expressions that followed. Stiles was of course excited while the Sheriff looked skeptical. "It's not exactly a theory, but most textbooks say there's only three real motives to crime. Power, sex and revenge, right? Sex is obviously not the motive, none of the victims were sexually assaulted. Power is also off the table — this isn't about money, because a lot of the victims were broke and it's not about causing fear, the girl at the hospital deviates too much from the other modus operandi."

"Modus operandi?" Stiles repeated and turned in his chair from Joe to his dad and back again. "That- that doesn't sound good. Is it good? It sounds evil."

"It's just fancy talk for method," the Sheriff explained tiredly. "We just call it M.O."

"Right! I know what M.O. is!"

"So it's revenge?" Sheriff Stilinski asked Joe with his eyebrows twisted while Stiles did a sort of victory-dance in his chair, gesturing to Joe. "For what?"

"That's the part we don't know yet," Scott admitted and Joe nodded in confirmation. She explained what she had done so far, with the crime database and the newspapers.

"But we're thinking it might have been covered up as an accident or, possibly, suicide," she concluded and was half worried Stiles' head would explode if he kept nodding at her words. "That means they're not in the database-"

"But in the police records, yeah," the Sheriff finished for her. He rubbed his forehead. "That's a lot of transcripts to sort through."

"It's gotta be related to the swim team in some way. Possibly a drowning or boat accident? Something connected with water," Joe said and cringed when the Sheriff's face turned to her in puzzlement. She'd gone off script with trying to keep the kanima-aspect out of it.

"Uhh, water because of swimming, right?" Stiles swooped in as a poor rescue. "Swim team, swimming, swim in water." He shrugged theatrically, somehow making his head follow along. "Makes sense to me."

The Sheriff did not look convinced. "There was no water present on any of the crime scenes."

"Well, it was raining pretty hard when Coach Lahey died," Stiles pointed out. "The trailer was next to a lake. The, uh, sink at the mechanic's garage was leaking- okay, so, forget the water. Just, if there's anything related to the swim team, that could maybe lead to a better suspect than Mr. Harris!"

They all held their breaths when the Sheriff seemed to consider this. He squinted at Joe. "Is this related to your paper? I thought that was about the Kate Argent-murders?"

"It's, uh, for my next paper," Joe said slowly and watch his face clear in something akin to disappointment at the obvious lie. "Look, I just have a feeling about this. Can you take this to the station? They've stopped answering my calls and it'll hold more weight if it comes from you anyway."

"Well, if you're anything like your dad, I guess your 'feeling about this' holds some weight with me. I'll ask the guy working the case, but I can't make any promises."

Stiles did another fist-pump. "Yes!"

A few days passed without Joe hearing back from anyone, neither Jimmy or the Sheriff. It had been a whole week now without anything happening. Joe could not remember last time Beacon Hills got a whole week without even a hint of murder or carnage. Despite her misgivings, it made her drop a guard just a little. Maybe they were over the worst?

Sixteen people on the swim team, including the coach. Seven dead now, including Camden Lahey. Could the kanima be done killing? Some of these people had moved out of state, but they were still alive and healthy based on what she could find out online. Maybe the kanima-master did not have the opportunity to travel that much? Lacking either funds or opportunity or both... It did not narrow it down much, to be honest.

After all the strange stuff happening, Joe kept the curtains closed on her bedroom window. She opened them now just to peer up at the moon. Another day until full. It did not give any indication of being particularly interested in supernatural matchmaking and she wondered how that whole thing worked. Derek had said there was no why or why them. Both Kane and Jimmy had talked about statistics. Her mind kept coming back to Victoria Argent testing her out on the school parking lot, how disappointed or confused she had seemed when Joe did not heal. She had expected her to be a werewolf. Why though? Was it just a hunch or did they know about her and Derek?

Scott swore on his life that he had not told it to Allison. Stiles had no reason to go yapping about it. Derek would not even get the chance as he'd been shot on sight — also the one with the least motive. Who knew then? Kate and Jimmy. One hopefully dead and the other...She wanted to believe that Jimmy would not directly put her in harm's way, but after the reunion dinner she had no idea what to think. Maybe his loathing for Derek went deeper than his alleged friendship with her?

A whole week without Derek had also been an unexpected reprieve. A welcome one? She was not even sure. As stressful as the reunion dinner had turned out to be, his presence had been its one saving grace. Was it weird that neither had discussed what happened in the bathroom? One thing was the rave, where she had been drunk and full of wanton thoughts, but she had not even had a buzz at the dinner. Nor had she been too focused on him beforehand; not on a conscious level at least.

Was it just inevitable when they spent time together like that? They had been touching each other almost the whole night, but even though he radiated heat from his core, she had found the closeness more comforting than tempting if that made sense. Did anything make sense? After Alex' revelation, every thought about Derek had disappeared until she was safely back in the house, maybe a self-defense mechanism because of the closed confines of the car.

So a whole week without Derek at least gave her time to think, but she was not so sure that was a good thing. If she kept waking up after dreaming about him — his muscles, his strength, his power and how it could be used for more than violence — she would have to air out her bedroom in case Scott started to catch on to her chemosignals. Derek had said to call him if she needed him, but she doubted it was this kind of need he meant. No amount of cold showers seemed to help either. Maybe it was the full moon tomorrow? Or just her sexual frustration wreaking havoc on her hormones.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door. Living with two people, she had learned to distinguish between Aunt Mel's careful knocks and Scott's more frantic ones. This was neither. It made her lock her computer and rise from her chair instead of just yelling for whoever to come in.

Opening the door slowly, she let out a sigh. It was Derek. It was always Derek. Again, she wondered if she somehow summoned him by thinking about him this much.

"Your aunt let me in," he explained as Joe stepped aside for him to come into her room. She wondered if he said that to discourage any breaking in-jokes.

"Of course she did."

Joe closed the door behind him and now wondered if she should start to wear actual clothes in the house instead of her usual sweats. Normally not the one to be bothered, she still acknowledged how sloppy she looked compared to the reunion dinner. Hair up in a high frizzy bun, no makeup, loose t-shirt with some bleach-stain on the front — at least he knew what he was getting into. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter.

Before she could ask what she owed this surprise visit, or ask him to hold on while she freshened up, he pulled out an orange pill bottle from the pocket of his jacket and gave it to her.

"I talked with Deaton and got the right pills," he explained as she shook the bottle, noting the vast difference in both size and color from the earlier ones she'd swiped from the clinic. "Apparently what you took was some sort of anti-inflammatory intended for livestock. Half a pill for a grown bull."

"And I took two," Joe whispered and realized she might be lucky to still be breathing.

Derek nodded and crossed his arms while leaning against her dresser. "You took two. Side-effects on humans include mood swings, confusion and fever. Which explains why you kept trying to both fight me and take your clothes off."

"Don't look so disappointed." Joe was referring to the disappointed look on his face regarding her pill use, not the clothes issue, and cleared her throat when he raised his eyebrows. "Shut up, that's not what I- uh, okay, so, why are you giving me these?"

"Full moon," said Derek, as if that explained everything. "It's gonna be a rough one. According to Deaton, one pill should be enough for the night."

Joe glanced from the pill bottle to Derek. "Because you're gonna...?"

"Potentially be mauled by one of my betas who won't be able to control themselves. First full moon is brutal." His explanation was devoid of any emotions, straightforward and probably honest. "You should have seen Scott. They're gonna try and kill anything with a pulse."

Lovely, Joe thought, still staring at the pills. "And you?"

"As long as you don't show up with a taser, I should be fine," Derek said with a slight twitch to his lips that told Joe he was teasing her. It was weird, but she kind of liked it. A welcome change from his usual brooding self. "It's not gonna cut the bond completely, but it'll dampen it so you won't feel any pain."

"What about Scott, is he..." She trailed off, again not even knowing what to ask.

Derek considered this non-question with some thought. "He should be okay, I think. He's learning fast. He'll be temperamental. Agitated."

"Okay." Such a small bottle for such a big deal, Joe thought, but aloud she said: "I don't want you to get hurt."

"That's my line." Again a slight teasing smile on his lips and she ducked her head down to conceal her own grin in response. "Don't worry, I'll heal. Unlike you if you get caught in the crossfire. Take one pill tomorrow and stay indoors. Whatever you do, do not come to the depot."

She weighed the pill bottle in her hand. Something felt off, but she had no way of articulating what. No way of finding the right questions to ask without it coming across as another cross-interrogation. There was so much she didn't know. Would this be her reality for the rest of her life? Every full moon or whenever he deemed necessary? Would there always be something to hunt or something to fight?

"Joe?"

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

She'd zoned out and glanced up at him again where he watched her. As usual, his expression was attentive and expectant. Of course looking at him just made her flood with even more questions. What had happened at the dinner? Where did they go from here? Was there yet another long talk coming after the full moon about...everything?

"I don't like this," she said instead, knowing it would be hopeless to articulate everything else going on inside of her. He could read her chemosignals or whatever — let him struggle to make heads or tails out of her feelings.

"This?"

If she hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed that slight uncertainty in his voice. She might have thought he was still teasing, but even though his face gave away nothing she got the impression it was a genuine question. Maybe her chemosignals were more confusing than she initially thought.

"This," she repeated and shook the pill bottle. The oversized t-shirt suddenly felt too small and she turned around a bit to glance out the window to escape some of his scrutiny — or the possibly relieved expression if she was inclined to interpret it that way. "What if something happens?"

"If you stay inside, there's no-"

Still facing the window she cut him off: "I meant with you." Joe glared at the stupid shining natural satellite in the sky, holding it personally responsible for making her feel so emotional and stupid. "Are you affected now?"

"Not by the moon, no." He cleared his throat behind her and for once continued without prompting: "It's only the actual night of the full moon that's bad for us. It's the price we pay."

Derek's visit was apparently a short one as she heard him move towards the door. Before he could open it, Joe managed to turn around and find her voice again. "Can you call me when it's over? Just so I know you're okay?"

There was a small chance she would evaporate under the heat of his gaze alone. Her breath stopped completely when he held out his hand to her, but not palm up for once. "One pill tomorrow and don't come to the depot, I'll call you when the sun's up. Deal?"

"That doesn't seem like an equal deal," she said with narrowed eyes, totally not stalling to shake his hand.

"Your survival versus a phone call?" Derek asked as he dropped his hand back. He did sort of have a point, both things were to her benefit. For some reason, he seemed inclined to humor her, his lips twitching as if he held back a smile. "Okay, what do you want?"

"Honest answers." It slipped out without her brain intervening and she watched him tilt his head as he scrutinized her. She realized her mistake. "Not about...that. I meant what I said about never asking again."

"Joe, I've never lied to you."

"But you're good at telling the truth without being honest," she said with an awkward shrug. "Give me five questions that you answer honestly. Over the phone." As his brows pulled together, she shrugged again. "Even the odds a little."

"Five questions," his eyes narrowed as he obviously tried to work out her angle, "that you're not gonna ask me now?" She shook her head and now he gave her a half-smile. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed and smiled back without a chance to stop it. Steeling herself, she reached her hand out to him. "Deal?"

"You get three."

"I'll take it," she said without hesitation.

Something unreadable in his eyes as he looked at her hand and then back at her face. Taking his time, he came just close enough to shake her hand without breaking eye contact. His touch was every bit as electric and hot as she thought it would be, but she managed to remain upright and not evaporate from the heat. His grip was firm, but not crushing like it probably had been with Jimmy.

"Deal."

It was not until she heard the front door slam shut downstairs she managed to breathe again. There was another reason she did not want to ask him now — she had no idea what to ask him about. She needed to prepare the exact questions, make them worth it. Maybe starting with what he meant by that he was not affected by the moon, no, implying he was affected by something else. By her? By the situation? By what? Three questions and she had probably a thousand she wanted answered.

In stark contrast to Derek, Scott was not too worried about the full moon. He was even planning to attend a party the same night and not even knowing that werewolves couldn't get drunk did anything to still Joe's nerves.

After he had assured her for the sixteenth time that he was sure he had control and that Stiles would be there in any case, Joe relented and helped him pick out a shirt. A nice green color that complimented his skin tone, even if they argued how many buttons he should leave undone.

"You look like a choir boy," Joe pointed out and reached over to undo the two top buttons. "There, now you look like a healthy sixteen-year-old."

"I just feel so exposed," Scott said and fingered the collar as he studied it in the mirror. He was pairing it with jeans and a casual blazer. Apparently it was Lydia Martin's birthday party and the dress code was smart casual, although Joe was not sure which part of Scott's outfit was smart.

She put both hands on his shoulders and peeked up behind him in the mirror. "You got the collar bones for it. Embrace it, Scott."

Since Aunt Mel was at work, she'd left Joe in charge of making sure Scott remembered the rules. He was still not completely off the hook for the failed classes and restraining order. Apparently this party was a big deal however, something about helping Lydia get back to normal after her assault earlier, and he had been allowed out on some conditions.

"No drinking, no fighting, no smoking, no killing, no kidnapping, no fraternizing with the enemy, no blood baths, no caffeine after midnight, no-"

Scott stopped her from where she was reading aloud from a list. "Are- are you making these up?"

"Okay, you got me. The actual rules are no drinking, no smoking and be home by curfew. If you're not home by then, Aunt Mel gave me specific instructions to come and get you, even if I have to drag you out of there myself. And, this is important, Scott, I will not be changing my clothes before I do so. I will show up in house slippers, pajama pants and my failed attempt at a tie-dye sweatshirt with absolute disregard for your high school reputation. Don't think any enhanced strength is gonna help you, I will pull you out of there by your ear."

He made sincere promises he would be home by curfew.

"Scott," she said as he was about to leave, already halfway through the door. He turned with expectant eyes and Joe sighed, knowing it was sort of breaking a promise to Derek. "If you feel like it's too much, with the full moon and all, call me. I'll pick you up, whenever and wherever, okay?"

He came back inside and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, like he did with his mom. "I will. Thanks."

"Oh God, way to make a girl feel uncool," Joe said with a grimace and rubbed her cheek. "Go have fun, Scott. Go party. Be a teenager. Come on. Get out, I wanna order pizza and veg out with the TV for myself. Shoo."

At least give him a few hours of happiness, she thought and watched him leave, before things fall apart. As much as she believed in the truth, she sometimes wished Derek hadn't told her about Victoria. A heavy burden to bear, which was probably exactly why he had told her. Everyone would eventually reach their limits with secrets.

As it was getting past sunset, Joe stared at the pill bottle in deep thought. One pill for the night. Derek was afraid he was going to have to fight and was giving her a way out, so she wouldn't be subjected to agonizing pain. Thoughtful of him, so why was she so hesitant in taking the stupid pill? It was the smart thing to do! Even Derek wanted her to and they had made a deal.

Maybe it was just the 'sitting inside doing nothing'-part she didn't like? Maybe it was the 'feeling completely useless'-part she didn't like? Maybe it was the guilt that she allowed Scott to go to a party when Derek practically forbade her to leave the house? Maybe it was the acknowledgement of the mate-bond that made her uneasy?

Maybe maybe maybe.

"Get over it, Joe," she mumbled to herself and popped the pill before she could change her mind. She flushed it down with a swig of non-alcoholic beer, wincing at both the taste and sensation. It was the only thing they had in the fridge as she had forgotten to add anything else on Scott's grocery list. The pills were smaller than the ones she had taken before the ice rink and they still went down harder. Something inside of her did not like that she wouldn't know if Derek got hurt or not. Stupid hormones. Stupid emotions. Whatever.

Not feeling any different, she kept the plans she had for the evening. Order pizza, watch whatever funny show she could find, decide on the exact questions to ask at sunrise and try not to worry about Derek. First two went fine, third was harder and she failed miserably at the fourth. The only question she had right now was if he was okay. Stupid. He was fine. He knew what he was doing.

She paused, watching, but not seeing the characters on the TV move around. He probably knew what he was doing.

The pizza tasted of cardboard as she chewed. He had to know what he was doing.

Like he knew what he was doing when turning Isaac into a werewolf practically the day before a full moon and then two more kids before the next. Even Peter had only turned Scott. Balance, she remembered; Peter had been banking on Derek as a beta as well. Nevertheless, Peter seemed like a planner. Derek? Well...

Putting her conflicted feelings about Derek to the side, she listed the characteristics she had gathered of him. Strong. Kind. Stoic. Aggressive. Possesive. Rash. Stubborn. Compassionate. Proud. None of those points indicated any particular adeptness to long-term planning. Derek was a here-and-now guy. Pragmatic, but not a strategist.

He did not know what he was doing.

Phone in hand, Joe paced the living room, TV and pizza both forgotten. Should she call Scott? No, let him have fun. Tonight could possibly be the last night of fun he had in a while, if Derek's theory about Victoria Argent held true. Who else to call? Joe was not that far gone that she thought her showing up to the depot would shift the odds in Derek's favor, shotgun or not. He healed, she didn't, as much as that thought aggravated her. Unfortunately, she did not know that many werewolves besides Derek and his pack.

As if on cue, her phone vibrated. It was a text message from the last probably-a-werewolf she knew of AKA the purple-eyed whatever as Derek called him. Jimmy. It was short, but effective.

'help'

Already worked up, Joe blew air out of her mouth as she looked at the first text message from Jimmy in a few months. Or, you know, since he died. Something about this felt like a trap.

Scratch that, this was definitely a trap, but to what purpose?

What game was Jimmy playing? Even if it was a trap, it was weird. And so vague. No location, no further info. Had he accidentally killed Kelly in her hotel room or was he writhing in agony up in the cavern, stuck between states again? Something about that last image refused to leave Joe's mind. Jimmy, half-morphed, using what little he had left of strength to compose that text and send it to her.

No, this was too strange. Why wouldn't he call? What would Jimmy need help with? This would be his second full moon and he'd obviously survived his first one. Besides, going up to the middle of the Preserve right now was probably not the best idea. If some stray shapeshifter didn't get her, Derek would afterwards if he ever found out.

Not that she needed Derek's permission to do anything, she mentally corrected. And she had technically only promised to not go to the depot. Semantics, her other half argued. Stay indoors.

Still, Jimmy knew where she lived if he wanted to hurt her somehow to get back at Derek. And if he wanted to trap her, he would be stealthier. Guy had her fooled for months, he was stealthy enough. Maybe whatever gave him purple eyes meant he was suffering during the full moon somehow? Or that the second one was the hardest for him? Like Derek said all the time, this wasn't an exact science. And her usual trustworthy internet was not helping right now because she had no way of knowing what was real or not of the little info she could find.

She paced around in the house, changing her clothes just in case. Running tights, dark sweater and a sports bra; if she had to run for her life sometime during the evening, she would at least not worry about that.

No, this was ridiculous, she was not going up to the cavern just because Jimmy sent her the vaguest text in history. Not even if it was the first text she'd gotten from him in a few months. The first text since he got his throat ripped out by Peter.

What if the Argents had found him? What if Derek's betas had escaped and hunted through the woods, descending upon Jimmy as easy prey? What if the kanima-master had found out about Jimmy's research and decided to get rid of some evidence? What if that's why he couldn't call, because he was hiding?

What if what if what if?

Fully dressed for a night raid, shotgun laying across her lap, Joe sat on the couch chewing on another pizza-slice and arguing with herself. The smart thing to do was to stay home. She did not owe Jimmy anything. Especially not after the reunion dinner. Then again, he hadn't actually done anything wrong by coming to the dinner. He'd been an asshole, but there was unfortunately not a law against that. Like she did not need permission from Derek to do anything, Jimmy did not need permission from her to attend the dinner. With a grumble, she tried calling him, but the phone was now switched off. Figures.

There was a buzz in her body, like she could not sit still. It had been there all night, ever since she took the pill, and she realized her worry over Derek had just been a convenient outlet. Now she had a real reason to worry. Derek would be angry if she left the house, she knew that much. Then again, Derek was angry about a lot of things.

In the end, she knew she could endure Derek's rage more than she could endure her own resentment if something actually had happened to Jimmy and she sat here cowering in the house. She sent a text to Scott to let him know of her plans, please tell Derek about it when convenient, but also not worry. It was probably nothing.

The drive up to the Preserve felt ominous and she kept tapping a hasty rhythm on the steering wheel. She'd never taken this road in the dark before, even though the bright full moon lit up through the trees like ghost lights. It turned eerily quiet when she killed the engine and she hated the way shadows twisted when her front lights died. At least she had the GPS-trail, otherwise she would never have found the cavern at night.

Birds and bats and insects buzzed around her in the woods as she crept towards the cavern, shotgun loaded, but still hanging by her side. If a werewolf was nearby, the forest-creatures usually disappeared, so in a way all the noise was comforting. Except if it meant that Jimmy was dead of course.

Nothing out of the ordinary and she reached the small grove of trees that concealed the cavern entrance.

Now she brought the shotgun up to her shoulder and tried to breathe evenly through her nose. Step by step, she edged her way inside, rolling her feet to stay silent. Quiet like the grave. Maybe Jimmy had torn Kelly apart at her hotel and-

An anguished cry echoed through the stone halls.

"Jimmy!" Joe shouted and tried to pinpoint the direction. He sounded hurt, really hurt, and she ran through the passages — so many! — looking for any sign of him. "Jimmy!"

She found him laying on the floor in the middle of the largest dome, clutching his stomach, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. His phone laid next to him in a pool of blood, which explained why it had died. Joe put the shotgun on her shoulder and dashed down to him. "Jimmy, oh my God, are you okay?"

He clearly wasn't. Frantically Joe tried to make sense of his injuries. There was so much blood and why wasn't he healing?

"No," he croaked out and his eyes were glowing purple as he looked up at her. They were also rimmed with tears. "No, Joe, why did you come?"

Delirious. This was bad. "Okay, come on, we have to get you to a-"

His hand grabbed around her wrist with surprising strength. "It's her..."

"Her?"

Footsteps behind her and Jimmy's eyes flickered. Without thinking, Joe reached for the shotgun, but froze at the sound of a hoarse, barely familiar voice.

"Hey, Berkeley."

Joe turned around and the last thing she saw was the end of a rifle stock with Kate Argent smiling behind it.

...

...

Surprise!

This is a general warning that this story will not follow Kate's storyline from the show (mostly because it doesn't make sense). Hope this doesn't scare off anyone.

It would seem that Halegado is the most popular ship-name, but feel free to use whatever you want. (Also like the ones with Josefina and Miguel, but I'm sad that Joe never got to hear Stiles' fake name for Derek as she got there too late...We'll have to wait until season 4 it seems.)

Thank you for reading as always and as always, so grateful for every single review and PM :) Not gonna lie, it's been nice to relax the last few days and just worry about Christmas presents and this story instead of work. Still have a few more days off with the weekend coming up so I hope everyone has a nice Friday and I'll see you back here on Sunday! Please leave a review to let me know what you think!