Thanks, as always, to my awesome reviewers: Boris Yeltsin, Guest, orangiethefox, Guest, and 3.14159265SlicesOfPi.

Guest: : )

Guest: You for sure will! However, it won't be for a pretty long time. That's not to say that Jughead won't be very much a part of the story, because he is going to get some POVs.

The song for this chapter is The Passenger by Hunter as a Horse. It's the song that plays at the end of the first episode, first season, when Jason's body is found. It's also the song that, if I had not heard it, well...there'd be no story, since the whole idea came from this song. So, do yourself a favor and at least go look up the lyrics, because you'll find many direct parallels this chapter to the lyrics!

Betty, by the end of the week, felt bad about the purse. Or, she was fairly sure that the purse had been her fault, even if she wasn't entirely sure how it was done. It's not like Veronica knew, and Betty wasn't offering up her apologies and taking claim, but she still felt bad that she'd ruined it, especially knowing that for a girl like Veronica, a purse like that was likely a thousand dollars, or something. However, on the flip side, Betty figured that wasn't the only expensive purse Veronica owned.

Still.

However, Veronica was still defying all of Betty's expectations. Despite the way that Veronica's eyes roved over Archie, she was still going out of her way to help Betty snag him. She didn't seem like that sort of girl at all, but she was trying extremely hard to be a likable person. Well, as likable as a New York City girl could be, that is. She, any time they were together, was nudging Archie towards Betty and sending Betty wide grins and covert thumbs up, or sending her emojis telling her to get on it and ask Archie to the upcoming dance, which shockingly had not been cancelled.

Betty just couldn't hate her, despite the feeling in her stomach that told Betty she might be smart to do so. Betty chalked it up to not taking her medication and began to smile around Veronica, just a little.

The other thing that her lack of medication was doing (or, so she explained to herself), which she'd been pretending to take the whole week, was making her jump to do things she wouldn't have normally done. Like Veronica talk her into tryouts for the Cheerleading squad.

If she had thought Veronica was bad, then that must have made Cheryl the devil herself. Cheryl had perhaps never had a kind word for Betty in her life, and even with her brother dead and declared missing, she hadn't softened one bit. Betty felt bad about the situation but held no lost feelings toward Cheryl specifically.

Last year's tryouts had been horrendous. She'd recalled that she had came home crying and hid from her mother, who had told her cheerleading wasn't for her anyway. Polly had snuck the carton of ice cream up to her room and the pair of them had watched Gilmore Girl reruns until Betty had stopped sobbing. Cheryl had not so sneakily tripped Betty on her last spin and she'd nosedived into the floorboards, breaking her nose and had gone running to the bathroom to stop the bleeding, but her nose had been out of shape and bruised for weeks, which had just added insult to injury.

She didn't know why she was returning to this event, the event that had made Betty self-conscious and quiet the entire year, but somehow Veronica had talked her into it. She was just such a headstrong person, someone Betty found it hard to say no to.

And so here she was, under the fluorescent lights of the gym, running through the cheer routine that Veronica had told her was 'impossible to ignore'.

And Cheryl did not look impressed.

Betty found herself caring little, however. As soon as she started moving, the groaning and shifting in her bones had paused, at least for now. She'd felt more grounded, whereas the rest of the day she'd felt like she was going to be lifted away at any second. She had a better hold on things. She didn't know if it was dancing, if it was doing something that probably would lead to disappointment and doing it anyway, or choosing to be Veronica's friend but whatever it was, she felt herself liking it.

"Hmm, ladies, where's the heat? Where's the sizzle?" Cheryl is looking underneath her nails.

"Well, you haven't seen our big finish," She says matter-o-factory, and turning to Betty, "Don't freak out." Which is exactly what you say to someone when they probably should be freaking out.

Before Betty can tell her that this isn't helping, Veronica is kissing Betty.

It's not Betty's first kiss, but it is the first one she's had in a long time. Kissing a girl is different than kissing a boy, and Betty decides she's not not into it, but she's sure in this moment she's straight. However, it was unexpected, and it does show a peculiar je-ne-sai-quoi that Cheryl cannot deny.

The kiss is maybe two seconds, but Betty's emotions are flaring. Surprise at the action. Mild enjoyment. A hint of smugness to her mother, to her last year's self, to Cheryl. Confusion about Veronica, because just when she feels she's beginning to unravel this girl, this happens. Anger that Cheryl, who has never been given a reason hate Betty, somehow still does. It all just floods her fingers the second she stops moving and the thing that interrupts the kiss is a loud resounding 'crack'.

The two girls jump apart to see one of the large banners hanging in the gym has fallen, the entire wooden fixture it was attached to broken.

"Oh my god!" Nancy squeaks, nearly falling out of her chair.

"Relax, it's probably been close to falling for like ever. This school needs new everything," Ginger scowls, "Right Cheryl?"

Cheryl, instead, is watching the girls carefully. No, not even watching Veronica, but she's watching Betty in a way that feels like she's peeling back Betty's skin. Betty takes two steps away from Veronica and runs her fingernail of her thumb across the palms of her hands, trying to erase the itching that has started back up.

"So, yeah." Veronica says, shaking out her hair and staring Cheryl down.

"Cute, but faux lesbian kissing hasn't been taboo since 1994. We'll see how the interview portion goes," Cheryl hasn't even looked at Veronica, "So, Betty. Talk to your sister often?"

Betty bites the inside of her cheek, "Enough."

"Has she been...uncomfortable lately?"

"What sort of question is that?" Veronica scowls, "This is about Betty joining the squad, not her sister."

"Betty hasn't told you?" Cheryl smiles, but it's not a kind smile, "Her sister and my brother, my dearly departed brother, were...in a dalliance."

"Say it how it is. They dated. It didn't end well. Not just his disappearance, but before." Betty snapped, a tone rising she didn't know she had. Cheryl even looks shocked It's only for a moment.

"I mean, Jason's probably why Polly hasn't returned to school, isn't that right? Something about mental problems?" Cheryl continues.

"We're handling it at home," Betty growls.

"Tell me, has she done anything peculiar lately?"

"I...what?" Betty frowns, "Cheryl, I don't know why you care. Or what you mean."

"Betty is right. Get to the point. Accept us or don't, but god stop with this stupid cat and mouse game you think is so clever." Veronica groans, rolling her eyes.

"Fine," Cheryl says, holding up a hand to stop her two minions from speaking, "Answer one last question, Betty...do you have the fire this team needs? The burning under your skin like someone lit a match to your bones? The itching that you can't scratch that vanishes while you're in motion? The bursting feeling from your chest when emotions overcome you?" Her gaze is much too piercing. To Veronica, who makes a noise in the back of her throat, it must sound like a lot of random stupid questions. Betty, however, does not know how Cheryl could possibly know that this is how Betty's been feeling all day.

"I…" Betty whispers, her mouth dry. She cannot find words to answer, not when Cheryl was so articulate about this...problem. She prepares to be rejected, again. Instead, Cheryl stamps a large red cherry stamp on Betty's application.

Cheryl gives a cat-like grin, "Welcome to the team."

What the hell just happened?

XXxxXX

At home, as Betty does her hair up, she's on cloud nine. Her and Veronica had a serious talk, one where Veronica opened up about her dad and Betty about Jason and Polly more. She felt like, for the first time, she might actually have a true friend that's a girl. She only has ever had Polly, but Polly has been acting so strange recently.

And then Veronica got Archie to go with them to the dance. It had been unbelievable how she'd just been able to sway him with her words. Betty wishes she could do that.

As it is, the itching is still there. It's easier to ignore, since she's had such a great day- a great week, but it hasn't gone. It's just been mounting, slowly. It's so much more intense now, on Friday, than it was on Monday and it's starting to get to her. Sometimes, she feels like she's going to burst. Other times, she feels like she's going to straight up attack someone. Betty has at least taken out her bottle of pills, but she still hasn't taken it. What if she takes them and the drab and shy Betty returns? The Betty that would never try out for cheerleading or ask Archie to a dance? Betty isn't sure she wants that Betty to return.

"What is that?" Her mother's voice is an unwelcome surprise, as always.

"I made the cheerleading squad, mom." Betty starts nervously.

"Cheryl Blossom's squad? After what Jason did to Polly? No, I'm sorry. I won't allow it. Take that off right now!" Her mother demands. Something bubbles inside Betty; she thinks it might be courage.

"No." Betty says. It's quiet, but it's unwavering, "No. I'm going to be on the squad mom." She grabs her purse.

"Where are you going?" Her mother demands.

"To buy a dress. I'm going to the dance with Archie and Veronica." She says, trying to side step her mother.

"Veronica Lodge?" Her mother sputters, "I forbid you from associating with her! The Lodges are worse than the Blossoms, but neither of those girls are who you think they are!"

"And what are they? Mean girls? I know that about Cheryl, but Veronica has done nothing but be kind to me." Betty demands.

"Betty, I wish I could explain this to you, but you just need to trust me when I say that these girls are dangerous."

Betty laughs, "Dangerous? They're two high school girls. No more dangerous than Regina George, maybe, but be serious." Betty scoffs.

When her mother grabs her arm, she snaps back like she's been burned, "Did you take your medication this morning?" She asks. Betty doesn't know how she can possibly glean such things, but Betty just continues down the stairs.

"Maybe I didn't?" She counters.

"Betty, come back here right now! Take this! Elizabeth Cooper, you don't know-,"

"Whatever, mom." Betty hisses, closing the door before her mom can finish.

Outside, she breathes a sigh of relief.

She quite skillfully manages to avoid another lecture from her mother until the next day, having nothing but a passing comment at breakfast that does not include the dance. Her mother is giving her the silent treatment, just stewing and glaring at her over her toast.

Let her; Betty is really tired of her mother's games.

XXxxXX

FP finds Sweet Pea in his trailer house where he's attempting to wrap his own arm and apply some cream to it, albeit unsuccessfully. It's been a week and the damn thing looks just as fresh as when he changed back to his human form on Monday. It refuses to budge in healing, and it hurts like a motherfucker anytime he's tried to do anything. He could go to FP for some potion or shit, but frankly, he's sorta pissed at his alpha. He's been unable to change this entire time, like someone just slammed the door on his wolf side and threw away the key. He's beginning to worry this is a forever thing.

So, he hasn't been going to school, or not paying attention. He's been worse than usual in his studies and almost challengingly absent-minded with the teachers, begging a single one to say something. FP has been avoiding him. He's not sure if it's because of other issues or because Sweet Pea has been skimping on school. Whatever, Sweet Pea's a little angry anyway.

"Can't just leave well enough alone."

"How'd you do it, boss," Sweet Pea asks between the gauze in his teeth, "Lock me out?"

FP just gives a long, exhausted sigh. He helps Sweet Pea wrap the arm, sealing it with a charm to keep it on if he changes, which at least tells Sweet Pea this isn't forever, whatever it is. Of course it's not forever, he reminds himself, because changing is a curse to them, not something that could be so easily remedied.

"Remind me we have to get some poultice for that," FP grimaces, "Kid, come out here with me." He says, tilting his head. Sweet Pea follows and FP shifts and then nods to Sweet Pea, indicating he should do the same.

When Sweet Pea shifts, he can feel something in the air immediately, though he's not sure what. It's like the ground is quaking with magic, like it's going to erupt from the ground. It crackles through Sweet Pea's fur like lightning, making it all stand on edge. It nearly burns, and it feels like changing for the first time.

The fuck? This the vamps? Sweet Pea asks, jumping back on his paws.

No, something else. FP replies sagely.

Boss, I...you say not to worry, but this? Sweet Pea isn't sure how to respond. There's too much magic, all at once. Too much new magic that is, and it can't be a coincidence. It's almost suffocating the way it curls around the town, around Sweet Pea's muzzle.

Follow me, FP says after a second, and Sweet Pea runs with him. Sweet Pea notices only after they've gotten a stride down that his mind is eeriest quiet. The only other Serpent that's changed right now is Joaquin, all the way in Greendale.

Joaquin is someone that Sweet Pea respects. He's the second oldest young wolf, having changed when he was 12 years old, a whole three years after Sweet Pea. He picked up on things fairly quick and didn't need a lot of help from Sweet Pea, and the two are friends, whenever they cross paths. Since he technically lives on the border, when it came time to choose between high schools, FP encouraged him to go to the Greendale secondary so they'd have eyes over both towns, which they do in fact hold territory over. Joaquin is a little too subservient for Sweet Pea's tastes, though he supposes someone could say the same about him. However, Sweet Pea knows that Joaquin wouldn't fight FP to stay behind during inner circle meetings and would never try to get out of school and would do whatever FP said without any fight. It makes him a better team player, but not a better wolf, if Sweet Pea could say such things (and he so clearly does).

FP leads Sweet Pea deep into the North Side, next to all the nice white houses with perfect rose gardens and garages and lights in the attic. It makes Sweet Pea hella nervous, not just because they're in wolf form, but this place would make him squeamish in human form. It's not the sort of place the likes of himself would hang out, that's for sure.

Why are we here? Is this where the Lodges are? Sweet Pea asks, feeling uneasy as he tries to hide behind a fir tree.

That's near the South, actually. FP seems almost too at ease in this area, and this neighborhood specifically. He walks around with a familiarity that Sweet Pea thinks he shouldn't have. They're South Siders, and Sweet Pea takes pride in this.

FP…..Sweet Pea whines, putting his head low.

Want to help with the adult stuff? Tonight, make rounds in this area.

And wait for what? Sweet Pea asks.

For this magic to break. You'll know it if it happens. FP is much to sure about this, and Sweet Pea is pretty sure that he should switch the 'if' to a 'when'. However, clearly FP has banned all the other wolves from turning right now, so there's something going on.

Sweet Pea is far too curious for his own good to fight this anymore.

So, he waits.

The magic in the air is muggy and wet. It's like a particularly humid day, and it's the worst feeling in wolf form. Sweet Pea can almost see the magic, with his sharpened eyes, a glow in the air, a sort of fuzziness around one area in particular.

So, Sweet Pea does his rounds in this neighborhood, his nose poised and his ears swiveling at the slightest of sounds as he waits for something to happen. He feels like that kid in the Incredibles Movie, the kid with the trike that just pauses in the driveway, knowing something cool or weird is going to occur if he just waits long enough, but he's not sure what.

As he's padding between houses, Sweet Pea wonders which would terrify these uppity Northsidesr more if he was found; a gigantic wolf, a naked teen, or a Southside Serpent. The wolf form has problems, since if someone has a gun, it would hurt like a bitch. Of course, unless someone conveniently for their sake has silver bullets, it wouldn't really do bad damage. If he was naked, he'd probably get taken down to the station and written up. If he's in his Serpent Skin, ie; his jacket, he feels like this would get the worst response. Sheriff Keller can spin a kid streaking on a dare easier than he can a Serpent, even if he has a tenuous agreement with their pack.

Most people are sleeping by this time anyway, or not focusing on what's going on outside, so it's not a huge deal. Sweet Pea is able to find a path through woods and paths and stay out of sight well. He's been taught how to blend in by FP from a young age, and he's seen people walk right past him in wolf form without glancing at him at all. It's a little about tapping into the magic in the air, ant tonight the air is soaked with it, and a little about just trusting that humans are dense as fuck.

Around midnight, Sweet Pea stumbles upon something more intimate than it should have been. There's a girl with blonde shining hair in a nice dress, standing on her porch as though she's waiting. Her face is pulled taught and he can see her trying to heave back tears. Sweet Pea wonders what's wrong, and while he's tempted to snip cruely about her nails breaking or that her sparkling water had gone flat, she truly does seem upset.

And she's sorta beautiful. Sweet Pea isn't used to girls that look so clean, so proper. She's almost ethereal, with her hair hanging down and her flowing dress.

Then, a boy arrives.

Sweet Pea could probably tune into what they're saying, with his wolf ears and all, but unless they're discussing vampires and werewolves, it doesn't matter. He can see that whatever the conversation is, it's not going well and it ends with the girl going inside, leaving the boy standing in a state of shock as he watches her leave.

You fucked up big time, whatever it is, Sweet Pea snorts, turning back around to continue his rounds.

However, he's hardly down the block when the air above him begins to quiver and vibrate. The hair all over his body rises with an unease that he's never felt before, but it's also familiar. It's like that moment when he was staring at the body of the dead junkie. It's a metamorphosis.

The night is just beginning.

XXxxXX

"You're so perfect, I've never be good enough for you...I'll never be good enough for you…"

Archie's rejection clatters in her mind like a broken record, and she's unable to shake it, no matter how hard she tries. It just echoes over and over as Betty savagely wipes off her makeup, feeling stupid.

She'd been so bold tonight. She'd hinted to Archie about 'them' and straight up asked. She'd thought that maybe she could have a with him at Cheryl's party. She'd poured her heart out on the steps and he'd given him a bull shit answer if she ever heard it.

And the worst? She'd know Cheryl was up to no good, but she'd thought that Veronica was better.

She was glad her mother wasn't around to tell her 'I Told You So', despite that's exactly what she deserved.

In fact, the house was empty in a way that made Betty's skin crawl. Her parents were likely at the Register, though she couldn't imagine what sort of news would take them away this late. Her sister was missing, but maybe she was at a friends. Betty didn't care; point being, she was alone.

It was the one time she almost wished for her mother's nagging, her sister's strange behavior, or her father's disappointed frown.

The suffocating feeling inside of Betty was back and it was so overwhelming that Betty grabbed her vanity, gasping. It felt like something was overtaking her insides, shoving out hard.

It really, really hurt.

She tried to focus on that pain, but all it reminded her of was the pain she was feeling in her heart. The humiliation that now Archie knew, now everyone knew. The betrayal toward Veronica and the absolute disgust and hatred toward Cheryl. It all barreled down over her, like a waterfall and she was being shoved under, unable to catch her breathe.

She opened her lips, expecting tears to come out, something to alleviate this agony but all that came out was a darkness that she was not happy to see.

"Argh!" She clenched her fists and screwed her eyes shut, shouting as loud as she could, trying to get this out in some way, something. The lights around her flickered for a couple seconds, the air around her buzzed with energy, and the next thing Betty knew the house was dark.

Betty opened her eyes. The feeling in her chest was gone, but now she felt strangely filled. Like someone had opened her up and taken out the rocks on her chest but replaced it with something else, something almost intangible. She felt different. It felt final, too, like she'd leveled up or something.

Betty went to her light switch, but found it not working. She scowled; somehow, she must have blown the fuse.

A tinkling sound from the vanity caught her attention and she turned to see the light bulb from her lamp shattered on her makeup. The lightbulb on her bedside desk was also in pieces, how strange. It was as though something had whisked through and done this, like a wave of wind or a ghost with a baseball bat.

Delicately, Betty began picking up the pieces by the light of her phone background little by little to deposit in her trash can. A piece of glass snagged across her palm and she hissed as she dug it out. A couple drops of blood hit her white carpet.

Great. Her mother was going to murder her now.

She licked at her hand and shook it to try to ease the pain, but it wouldn't stop bleeding. A little defeated and very done with this whole day, Betty went to her bathroom sink, running her hands under the water. She winced as it cleaned it out.

Did Betty know how to fix the fuse box? Yeah, she did. It couldn't be harder than fixing an engine. It was in the basement, which would be creepy at this dark hour, midnight exactly, according to her phone, but she couldn't not fix the lights. She just wanted to sleep, but she knew she had to clean up the lightbulbs and replace them and somehow try to scrub her blood from the carpet. Yippie.

A soft glow from her room side-tracked her mental list. She looked down; her phone was next to her, so what in the world was making that light?

Betty grabbed her toilet plunger, absently turning off the faucet. It dripped into the sink bowl, but Betty's fingers were cautiously wrapping about the wood handle. Did she think some weirdo was in her room and she was going to bludgeon him with a toilet plunger? Betty hadn't thought that far, but she didn't think she could investigate without some sort of weapon, as crappy as it was.

Inside her room there was...no one.

Nothing, but the light that seemed to be coming from a poster over her bed.

Betty checked under it, but the wall behind it was flat and dark.

She sat back on her haunches. The poster was of a woody landscape, a picture her mother had hung in here eons ago, and Betty knew it had been in the house as long as she could remember. It used to be in the kitchen, until it was relocated here. It was pretty, but Betty didn't know the exact location. It was rather large, at least four feet by four feet, and it always seemed a strange thing to keep, what with her mother's impeccable taste otherwise. It was much softer, something more Betty's tastes and had been pleased when it had been given to her.

But now, it seemed to be emitting a soft light, something it had never done before. Not a light like a glow, but like sunlight was literally shining through the dappled leaves into her bedroom from wherever this location was.

Betty reached out with her hand to touch the glass, but her fingers went right through the painting.

Holy fuck, was she dreaming?

Betty rarely swore, but this, she figured, this moment demanded it.

She pinched herself. She slapped herself. She drew her fingers back out and pushed it back in.

Her hand was going through the panting, through the wall.

Betty….

She could have sworn she heard her name whispered. She squeaked, pulling her hand back against her chest like something had burned her. She waited.

There it was, her name again, coming from the painting.

Well, the night was already bad, what else could go wrong?

So, Betty- wondering if someone had slipped her some weed or something, but she was still with it enough to feel like something was different now- crawled through the painting.

The scene of the woods was exactly how she imagined it to be on the other side. It was day here, wherever she was, and the sun hit her arms in a most pleasing way. The grass under her bare feet was soft and the trees seemed to glitter. It was such a relaxing place that Betty wanted to fall asleep here.

She turned back around to see a square hanging in the air, the size of the poster border, showing her bedroom through a window back home.

How bizarre.

Bizarre seemed like too tame of a word, but Betty couldn't think of much else.

Welcome home….A voice hissed on the wind, but it did not frighten Betty. It was the voice that had told her not to take her medication today, and it seemed like a soft grandmother's voice. The sort of grandmother that would bake her cookies and allow her to cry on her couch when her mother was being unreasonable, the grandmother Betty never had. Her grandparents on her father's side were long dead and the grandparents on her mother's side were three hours away and Betty rarely saw them. And, when she did, she didn't feel like she was somewhere familiar, but instead at a friend's house.

She did feel like this, however, was home, though she couldn't explain why.

All Betty knew was that she so very much did not want this to be a dream.

Then, Logic Betty set in.

There was two options; this was a dream, in which case Betty somehow fell asleep and her mother would be home and find a dark house with blood on the carpet and shards of glass everywhere and Betty would be in trouble.

Or, this wasn't a dream and Betty was going crazy and still, she'd have to return and clean this crap up because she couldn't predict when her mom would return home.

Both answers sucked and basically had the same result. She had to go back.

Now that you're awake, you can return whenever you wish.

"Uh, thanks, Voice." Betty bit her lips, thinking that yes, it was time to return. When disembodied voices whispered to you, no matter how comforting they sounded (and maybe, especially when they sounded comforting) it was time to scram.

She crawled back through the square, onto her bed.

The room was still dark.

Betty went to grab a loaf a bread first, since she'd once heard that you could clean up glass better with a slice of bread, something about the glass sticking to the soft surface.

The hairs raised on her arm and out of the corner of her eye, something black darted across the hall.

"Polly? Mom? Dad?" Betty called out, hoping someone had returned home early. No answer. Absolute silence.

She turned, but in a second, out of her corner of her eye again there was the shape. Betty spun around, breathing hard, but nothing was there.

Again, something dark gathering just out of her sight. Betty waited until it seemed to materialize, jumped around to find an empty corner.

"What the fuck, what the fuck," Betty was swearing more than she had this entire year. This was majorly starting to creep her out.

"Okay, Pol. So not funny," She said out loud, clutching the loaf of bread to her chest.

When she saw the next figure dart, she threw the bread at it.

It collided with something, because she heard it. Betty screamed against her hand, going forward. She expected to find a gigantic black rat or a bat or something...but once again, found nothing.

Before she could investigate more, something bit her leg.

Betty kicked out and kicked something, but it seemed to evaporate back into the shadows before she could look at it. Whatever it was, it actually did damage, since her leg was now bleeding.

A second...thing, for lack of a better term, jumped at her. It clawed at her hair and Betty threw herself against the wall to dislodge it. It was the size of a cat, roughly, and weighed like it was made of dead weights, however, whenever Betty looked at it, it just seemed like shadows and air. Their shape exactly wasn't anything set, they kept changing, like shadows, or like water.

Betty managed to grab one for a second, throwing it off her, before more were attacking her. She stumbled to her door, fumbling for the lock. Even after tonight, her first instinct was to go to Archie.

But would would he do? What could he do?

No matter, she wasn't staying in this house, where they seemed to be coming from the walls, literally peeling from the woodwork.

Betty was overwhelmed with blackness, and she felt tiny teeth tear into her skin, like razor blades slicing across, fast and precise. She couldn't see and she actually feared for her life. They were getting larger the more they seemed to attack her, weighing her down and making her stumble like a drunk. Betty managed to throw the three large set ones off of her body and ran like she'd never run before, still in her nice party dress, hair frizzy and bare feet stumbling over the rocks. She made it to the back of her house where there was a wooded section, gasping and crying and wondering what this was and why it was attacking her.

In a little clearing, she tripped and spun around to see the largest shadow thing looming over her, and all she could see was black. The blackness of death, of nothing, of the end.

That is, until something else collided with it.

A large dog; no a wolf. Jaws snapping and claws out, a black wolf that was definitely much too large to be a normal wolf was fighting it, rolling around with it and seemingly winning. This was like, a wolf on steroids, or the son of a wolf and a yeti. It was almost unbelievable, the size. Although, since there was a black smoke monster that made betty think of Lost currently trying to kill her, unbelievable was a relative term. Betty flashed her phone to see better and the creature hissed and seemed to burn up.

Betty frantically looked at the ground for a rock and a for a dry stick. She had to make a fire. She looked back to her house where their grill was; they always kept a box of matches with it. Could she make it back there in time to grab it before this wolf was dead? She couldn't just leave this animal to its own devices, not when it actively seemed to be protecting her, not when she knew this thing could be killed.

You have magic, goddamn it, make a fire yourself!

She snapped her head up sharply, breath drawing in as she caught the eyes of the wolf for just a second. This voice hadn't been the other voice she'd been hearing, this one was a male's voice about her age. And it had seemed like the wolf had-

No, no time to think about that. No time to even really dissect what she'd heard or if she was going crazy, Betty just looked at the stick and willed fire. She could feel something zapping along her skin, like ants crawling over her, and she blinked and the stick had a flame going.

Betty grasped other sticks off the ground, making a large torch and waving it around at the creature. It began to crisp and vanish at the edges like a paper slowly curling in a fire. It also screamed like air leaving it, an awful sound that made Betty wants to stop, but she pressed on, shoving the torch into its body. Soon, it was just a tiny speck screaming, until the wolf pounced on it, literally ripping it to shreds until it was just dust and nothing more.

Betty stomped out her torch, falling back on her back as her legs collasped. She stared at her hands, breathing in hard.

"Hey, at least you didn't turn into a wolf the first time your powers manifested." The same voice that had spoken in her mind seemed very real. Betty turned to where the wolf had been to see...a buck-naked teenager.

"Oh my god," She shielded her eyes, "What...where's the wolf?"

The snort front he kid just about confirmed something she knew was impossible.

"It...it was like shadows...and I made a fire...and I could walk through a painting and you were a gigantic wolf and...and…"

Her brain had just about fizzled out of focus and she was starting to think this was some very elaborate dream.

She looked down. She was covered in blood and everywhere hurt. She got up and mechanically walked to her backyard. She faintly was aware of the teen following her. She was just so confused, and so very tired.

The naked teen pulled a towel from the clothes line, tying it around his waist, so he was at least a little more decent. She turned to see that he was fairly fit, but covered in scars. In fact, he had a fresh gauze wrapping around his arm. He was looking at her with faint concern.

"You...you saw it, didn't you? Am I going crazy? Are you even real?" Was he looking at her like that because there hadn't been a wolf and a shadow thing and he'd found her in the woods? Yeah, that made sense, more than the current state of affairs.

Instead, he shook his head, as though insulted or sorry for her.

"Shit, no one's ever explained anything to you, have they?" He asked.

Betty took a hard breath, "About what?"

"You're a witch, blondie."

BETTY'S WITCHYWOO IS HERE!

Some small notes for this chapter;

a) The timeline on the show? Like, what is it? Timeline, what timeline. When trying to go off the canon, I have the HARDEST time trying to follow how long it's been and a lot of times things don't make sense. Therefore, I'm going off on my own because Riverdale is impossible.

b) So, if you can't tell, I skipped a big part of this chapter, the dance and the party at Cheryl's. To be honest, this story would be so long if I did every scene. Since I'm assuming most of us have watched the show, unless something needs to be changed to fit the supernatural or serves a direct purpose, there are better scenes to be writing and have you all spend time reading

Remember to review!