☾

As we run towards the double doors to the cafeteria, I continually look behind us, seeing the Alpha hot on our heels. We get in there in time, Stiles and I walking back a little as the others lock the doors. I feel him squeeze my hand, making me look up at Stiles and then at what he's looking at. Oh no, the twenty feet of windows. Dammit.

"Help me get this in front of the door," Scott orders.

"Scott, wait, not here," Stiles says but it falls deaf upon the other's ears.

"What was that? Scott, what was that?" Allison asks, panicking.

Lydia interjects, "What came out of the ceiling?"

"Will you just help me?" Scott snaps, he and Jackson moving the container used for the milk cartons in front of the doors. "The chairs, stack the chairs."

"Guys... Can we just wait a second?" Stiles pleads loudly as they stack the chairs, which won't do any good against a raging, psychotic and extremely strong Alpha werewolf. "You guys, listen to me... Can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking. Can we hang on one second, please?"

Getting fed up, I clear my throat and shout, "Hey!" just as he yells, "Hello!" which gains the other teen's attention.

"Okay, nice work," Stiles says sarcastically. "Really beautiful job, everyone. Now, what should we do about the twenty-foot wall of windows?" He lets go of my hand to gesture towards the windows.

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I'd like to know why." Allison pleads. Now that I think about it, how am I not freaking out right now? I'm one of the three girls that aren't panicking, at least not showing it, but rather internalizing it. "Scott?"

The boy just moves to lean against one of the tables, the other three looking at us with questioning eyes. I avoid the eyes of my two best friends, instead staring intently at Stiles who tells them a partial lie, "Somebody killed the janitor."

"What?" Lydia squeaks.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead," I answer roughly, finally looking at my lifelong best friend as we walk closer to them, in between her and my boyfriend, both grabbing one of my hands.

"What's he talking about? Is this a joke?" Allison asks.

"What, who killed him?" Jackson, looking at Stiles and I and then back at Scott who still has his back to us.

"No, no, no, no. This was supposed to be over. The mountain lion killed-" Lydia says frantically but Jackson cuts her off.

"No, don't you get it?" He snaps. "There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it?" Allison demands. "What does he want? What's happening? Scott!"

"I don't know," Scott lies, turning around a bit. "I just know... If we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us?" Lydia squeaks again. "He's gonna kill us?"

"Who?" Allison asks, turning to Stiles and I. "Who is it?" We don't answer her but when Scott does, my eyes widen and my lips part in shock.

"It's Derek. It's Derek Hale."

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson reiterates, as if he's familiar with Derek.

"Are you sure?" Allison asks for confirmation.

"I saw him," Scott answers. I'm just itching to either slap or punch him.

Okay, I've gotten annoyed with this little werewolf ever since the night of the parent/teacher conferences, but now I'm just angry at him. Angry at him for throwing Derek under the bus like that! Derek may be alive, so if he is, then he's going to be a wanted fugitive.

"The mountain lion," Lydia starts, but Scott cuts her off.

"No, Derek killed them," Scott insists, making my ire rise.

"All of them?" Allison asks, a little appalled and fearful.

"Yeah, starting with his own sister," Scott lies.

"And the bus driver?" Allison continues.

"And the guy in the video store," Scott continues to lie. "It's been Derek the whole time. He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now..." Turning around, he finishes, "He's going to kill us, too."

I grip Stiles' hand tighter, my anger evident which grows even more when Jackson demands, "Call the cops." Which is directed towards Stiles.

"No," he immediately denies.

"What do you mean, 'No'?" Jackson questions.

"I mean no. You want to hear it in Spanish? Noh," he says in a fake Spanish accent. If we weren't in this situation, I would smile or laugh, but I'm trying not to let my anger and panic to overflow. "Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don't know what he's armed with."

Oh, now he's going along with the lie. Great.

"Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff's department. Call him," Jackson demands.

"I'm calling," Lydia announces, getting her phone out and walking away, letting go of my hand.

"No, Lydia, would you just hold on a second," Stiles says, walking towards her but Jackson steps in front of him threateningly, pushing him back.

That's when Scott steps in, holding a hand out to stop Jackson. "Hey," he warns, stepping to stand on the other side of Stiles.

"Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School. We're trapped, and we need you to..." Lydia trails off. "But..." She pulls the phone away from her ear, a look of disbelief on her face. "She hung up on me."

What?

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asks incredulously.

"She said that they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school," she explains. "She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Okay, then call again," Allison orders.

"No, they won't trace a cell," Stiles objects. "And then they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

"What the... What-what is this? Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he killing anyone?" Allison cries.

No one answers her, silence filling the space for a while until everyone looks at Scott. "Why's everyone looking at me?" He asks.

"Is he the one that sent her the text?" Lydia questions.

"No," Scott denies instantly. "I mean, I don't know."

"Is he the one that called the police?" Allison asks.

"I don't know!" Scott snaps, Allison looking wounded instantly, eyes averting from her boyfriend.

"All right, why don't we just back off the throttle here, yeah?" Stiles asks rhetorically, taking Scott's back and still holding my hand and moving us away from the three oblivious teens. "Okay, first off, throwing Derek under the bus, nicely done," Stiles compliments quietly.

"I didn't know what to say. I had to say something," Scott whispers. "And if he's dead then, it doesn't matter, right? Except if he's not. Oh, Gods, I totally just bit her head off."

"And she'll totally get over it," Stiles assures him.

I glare scathingly up at Scott, his eyes widening when he notices it. "Scott McCall, you should refrain from pissing me off even more than you already have because while I may be five foot, I can still kick your ass and I have no problems with doing so," I growl, taking a step towards him, but Stiles uses his arm to wrap around my waist and pull me back against him. His chest is to my back and letting go of my hand to keep me there and from attacking Scott.

"Babe, calm down," he murmurs in my ear, my cheeks flushing from what could be mistaken as anger but is actually from the term of endearment. Stiles doesn't really seem to notice what he said as he continues what he was saying before. "Bigger issues at hand here, like how we get out alive?"

"But we are alive," Scott whispers. "It could've killed us already. It's like it's cornering us or something."

"So what, he wants to eat us all at the same time?" Stiles asks a little sarcastically.

"No! Derek said it wants revenge," Scott corrects.

"Against who?" I ask, despite my anger towards Scott.

"Allison's family?" Scott guesses.

"Maybe that's what the text was about," Stiles realizes. "Someone had to send it."

"Okay, assheads," Jackson speaks up, interrupting us. "New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?" A little growl escapes my lips, moving to lunge at him but Stiles' arm around my waist prevents me.

"He's right," Scott agrees, my blood boiling at this. I grew up with a mom who was a deputy, and the fear of losing her because of the job was present every day after she was shot in the shoulder when I was six. His dad is all he has and now he has to worry about an Alpha werewolf running around killing people. "Tell him the truth if you have to, just call him."

Stiles steps back a bit, his arm loosening around my waist. "I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," he says quietly.

"All right, give me the phone," Jackson says, going for Stiles but instead he grabs my wrist and yanks me towards him, making me yelp in pain as his grip threatens to dislocate my shoulder or something in my arm with the force he uses.

At my yelp of pain, Stiles whips around and his fist flies, hitting Jackson's face almost instantly, making him let go of me as he falls to the ground at the impact.

"Jackson!" Allison gasps, kneeling next to Jackson. "Are you okay? Hey, are you okay?"

Stiles steps in front of me and gently takes the wrist Jackson grabbed, rubbing it with his thumb, and I'm still surprised by his actions. I definitely didn't see that coming. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" He asks quietly, concern etched into his features.

I shake my head, murmuring, "No, I'm fine. But thank you for being my knight in plaid." He gives me a faint smile that fades quickly. Kissing my forehead softly, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, pulling it out. Watching as he clicked a few times, he raises it to his ear.

"Dad, hey, it's me," Stiles says. "And it's your voice-mail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now." The chairs rattle from the Alpha hitting the doors, making me flinch and everyone to back up and away from the door, Lydia running to Jackson's side. "We're at the school okay? We're at the school."

It continues, my heart skipping a beat every time I hear a screw move out of place. "Oh, God. Oh, my God," Lydia cries.

"The kitchen, the door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell," Stiles says, continuing to look at the doors while slipping his hand into mine, making sure I stick by him.

"Which only goes up," Scott protests.

"Up is better than here," I retort. Finally, we take off, running as fast as we can through the kitchen and to the stairwell Stiles said was there, running up the stairs and into a hallway.

Scott tries opening a classroom door but it's locked, then Lydia opens the one across from the one they tried and it's open, all of us piling into... Whaddya know, the chemistry room. Great, even now I can't escape Hell.

As Scott shuts the door, he places a stool underneath the knob and us three that knows what's going on stands on one side of the room and the other across from us to keep out of sight from the tiny window on the door. A growl erupts from the hallway and I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle my heavy breaths.

It walks right by us. Right by us! He knows we're in here and he's taunting us! He can smell us and hear our hearts! Scott's right, he is cornering us.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott asks Jackson quietly and I snort mentally. I can barely fit in the back and I'm tiny.

"Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap," Jackson answers.

"There's six of us, dumbass," I scowl at him, and all he does is blink slowly at me.

"Five?" Allison hisses. "I barely fit in the back."

Well, because you're tall, Argent. Not every girl is five-foot-eight.

"It doesn't matter. There's no getting out without drawing attention," Stiles cuts in.

"What about this?" Scott asks, heading towards the other door and Stiles and I follow him. "This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds."

I look down at the knob and tap the deadbolt with my nail. "That's a deadbolt," I point out.

"The janitor has a key," Scott realizes.

"You mean his body has it," Stiles corrects quietly.

"I can get it. I can find him by scent, by blood," Scott insists in a whisper.

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible plan. What else you got?" Stiles whispers sarcastically.

Scott considers it for a moment, before making his decision. "I'm getting the key."

"Are you serious?" Allison asks as Scott walks up to her.

"Well, it's the best plan," Scott explains. "Someone has to get the key if we want to get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed," Allison objects.

Scott then grabs a stick with a pointer finger hand thing on it, making me roll my eyes; I repeat, I'm surrounded by dumbass boys here. Except for Stiles. And it seems everyone else is thinking the same thing.

"Well, it's better than nothing," Scott defends himself.

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles protests.

"There is," Lydia speaks up. I follow her gaze to the chemical cabinet; she is a freakin' genius.

"Lydia, please marry me," I breath out, knowing exactly what she's thinking about.

"What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?" Stiles asks sardonically.

"No. Like a firebomb," Lydia and I correct in perfect sync and we continue to talk like that as we explain. "In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

"Self-igniting..." Stiles trails off, not even weirded out by our synchronicity.

"Molotov cocktail," we finish in unison.

Everyone gives us weird looks, but Lydia puts on her airhead expression again. "What? I read it somewhere."

"We don't have a key for that either," Stiles points out.

Jackson rolls his eyes and uses his elbow to smash the glass. I blink twice; well, we can do that.

☾

Lydia and Jackson made the chemical concoction as we stood around the lab table, watching. I would've helped but Stiles is sticking to the whole stay by my side thing tonight, not letting me go. Allison and Scott had shared a passionate yet sad kiss before he left, with her saying that she knew he'd been lying all night because he has a tell, too. Whatever that last bit means.

Currently, I'm sitting on the ground near where everyone else is sitting next to a lab table, Indian-style with Stiles next to me, who's playing with my fingers in my lap. "How are you so calm?" He whispers quietly.

I turn my head to look at him, smiling faintly. "My mother and sister taught me to keep a strong appearance in the face of imminent danger, to always show bravery," I open up, quietly, sucking in the inside of my cheek briefly. "But I'm freaking out on the inside. I don't want to die, and I don't want anyone else to, either. Stiles, I was so afraid when you went out to get those bolt cutters. I was afraid to lose you, and I know it's kind of irrational, and I know we've only started dating recently, but I cannot lose you. You've become one of the very few people in my life that I care too much about to lose."

He scoots a little closer to me, cupping my cheek with his other hand while looking at me with adoration in his whiskey eyes. "You're not gonna lose me" He murmurs.

I smile a little at him, blinking away my tears as he kisses my forehead softly, my nose, and then my lips, gentle and delicate while running his hand through my hair. He leans his forehead against mine after breaking the kiss, hand holding the back of my head gently.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lydia smiling at us and giving me a discreet thumbs up, lips quirked in a little smile.

This here, ladies and gentlemen, is the Lydia Martin I know and love.

"I don't get this," Allison whispers, which is rather loud in the quiet room catching our attention and kind of ruining our moment. "I don't get why he's out there, and why he left us. And I can't... I can't stop my hands from shaking."

Jackson takes her hands, saying, "It's okay. It's okay, it's gonna be okay." I flick my eyes up to Lydia, seeing a jealous and hurt look on her face. If we make it out of this alive, I might take up on the idea of beating Jackson up for hurting my best friend. Stiles stands up, offering me his hand and I take it, standing up and leaning against the wall next to him, lacing our fingers together.

"Jackson, you handed me the sulfuric acid, right?" Lydia asks after a while, looking over at the chemicals. "It has to be sulfuric acid. It won't ignite if it's not."

"I gave you exactly what you asked for, didn't I?" He snaps.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure you did," Lydia replies, a little dubiously.

Tapping my toes against the floor, I can't help the explosion that goes off in me. "Alright, Jackass," I hiss, directed towards Jackson and everyone looks at me. "You better quit acting like a major douche to my best friend or I will break your jaw and I don't care if I fracture a few bones, the satisfaction of seeing you in pain will replace my own." By the end of my threat, I'm almost toe-to-toe with Jackson, everyone staring at me with surprise, and Stiles uses our joined hands to pull me back.

"Okay, okay, calm down, firecracker," he mumbles in my ear, using his other hand to stroke my waist beneath my jacket, attempting and succeeding in trying to calm me down.

But then, a loud roar breaks the silence, and instantly I feel pain flaring in my brain and throughout my entire body, mostly the nape of my neck and brain. I hold the back of my neck where the wounds are still healing, crying out loudly in pain and falling to my knees, Stiles' hold on me disappearing. "Mary Anne!" It's quiet in my ears, a ringing sound drowning out any other voice and I move my hands to cup my ears.

A face appears in front of mine, Stiles, who is cupping my cheeks and his lips are moving but it's very distant, the ringing still filling my head and pain rendering me unable to move without crying out. My eyes slip closed, tears sparking in my eyes and my throat becoming rough from the wailing.

The thing that drowns out the ringing is a pair of lips crashing into mine, wet and messy, but still perfect. I don't respond, my breathing temporarily stopping, as he pulls back after a few seconds, and I watch the line of saliva between our lips breaking before staring into my hero's eyes. They're wide with fear and concern, searching mine as he strokes my cheeks. "Mary Anne?" He whispers, making a little noise when I collapse into him, head on his shoulder as I'm on the verge of tears again.

"Stiles," I whimper, pain still running through my body, clutching at his arm that's around my shoulders with both hands, eyes flickering to the other three. The girls are staring at me with concern but they say nothing, which I'm grateful for since I'm in no mood to answer any questions right now.

Above us I can hear them arguing, Stiles snapping eventually. "All right, can we not argue for half a second here?"

"Where's Scott? He should be back by now," Allison mumbles.

Then, some noise is made by the door and Allison immediately goes for it, as does Jackson and Lydia, but Stiles stays on the floor with me, holding me.

"Scott! Scott!" She screams, trying to open the door.

"Where's he going?" Lydia asks but Allison keeps on yelling her boyfriend's name. "Stop. Stop! Do you hear that? Listen."

Suddenly, the sound of sirens fills my ears, making me sigh in relief. My body sags against Stiles, head burying in the crook of his neck.

We're safe now.

☾

"You sure it was Derek Hale?" The Sheriff asks us as we follow him outside the school, Stiles' arm around my waist and mine around his, my hands shaking with residual pain and anxiety.

"Yes," Scott answers.

"I saw him, too," Stiles lies.

"What about the janitor?" Scott asks.

"We're still looking," Sheriff replies.

"Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?" Scott questions.

"Yeah, Scott, we looked," Sheriff answers. "We pulled them out just like you asked, there's nothing."

"I'm not making this up," Scott insists.

"I know, I believe you, I do," Sheriff says.

"No you don't," Scott objects, all of us stopping as Stiles and I lean against the railing. "You have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you want to believe, but I know you don't."

After a moment of silence, Sheriff says, "Listen to me. We're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him. Okay? I promise."

"Sheriff!" Someone calls out.

"Stay. All of you," he instructs while walking off.

"Well, we survived, dude. You know?" Stiles says, pulling me even closer to him, if that's possible. "We outlasted the Alpha. It's still good, right? Being alive?"

"When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us," Scott points out. "You don't think that it heard us? You don't think it knew exactly where we were?"

"Well, then how come we're still alive?" Stiles asks, confused.

"It wants me in its pack," Scott starts loudly, stopping when someone walks by. "But I think, first... I have to get rid of my old pack."

"What do you mean? What old pack?" I ask quietly, still shaken up from my screaming session in the chemistry room, so my voice is low.

"Allison. Jackson, Lydia. You two," Scott lists, a sad tone to his voice.

My eyes widen, sadness filling me; as much as I was angry at him, I get it now. People make stupid decisions when under pressure, it's understandable. But for my new friend who might be forced to kill me? Along with my boyfriend, my friends, my best friend's boyfriend? That's something that really hits a person.

"The Alpha doesn't want to kill us," Stiles says, understanding it now.

"He wants me to do it," Scott finishes quietly, turning away from us. "And that's not even the worst part."

How is that not the worst part?

"How in holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?" Stiles questions, voicing my thoughts.

"Because when he made me shift... I wanted to do it," he answers, the end of his sentence quiet as he looks at us intensely. "I wanted to kill you. All of you."

Silence falls among us, tears stinging the corners of my eyes and one escapes but I quickly swipe it away. I have to stop crying.

Then Scott starts to walk forward and past us, both Stiles and I turning to follow him. Towards the ambulance, where Deaton is sitting in.

Okay, that cannot be a coincidence!

"There you are," he says.

"How..." Scott says, trailing off. "How did you..."

"Get out?" Deaton finishes. "Not easily. And from what they tell me, I'm alive because of you. I think I owe you a raise."

"Guys, come on, let's let the EMT's do their job," Sheriff cuts in, taking Stiles' bicep and leading him away and because he hasn't let go of me yet, I go with him. "You can talk to him later." We go by his jeep while Scott goes off to talk to Allison. Stiles pulls me into his chest with his arms around my shoulders and mine around his waist, head on his chest and his chin atop of it.

"I'm so happy that you're alright," I mumble against his chest.

"But you're not, are you?" He whispers. "What happened in the classroom, it was from the scratches, wasn't it?"

I nod, tightening my grip on him. "I don't know why, but all I could hear was ringing and all I could feel was pain. I could do nothing but scream," I mumble, my voice cracking as my eyes become wet with tears. This time, I don't hide them, I let them fall, but I don't sob and break down, merely letting a few tears slip.

"Your eyes were glowing," he says in my ear quietly after a few beats of silence.

I move my head to look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "What?" I ask roughly.

"When you were screaming, your eyes were glowing," says. "The right one was gold, the left green."

My eyes were glowing a green and gold color? I know werewolves have gold eyes, Scott has them, but green?

I look at him straight in the eye as I ask in a shaky whisper, "What the hell am I?"