☾

The morning after I had turned I woke up in my bed, the window slightly open. It was weird, but Scott and Stiles broke into my house to make sure I was okay, bursting into my room and scaring the hell out of me, which was just as weird. Stiles told me about what happened at the station and Scott informed me that there may be another supernatural creature out there. One that is not like us. Oh, and Stiles has refused to leave me alone. He's been texting or calling me constantly, asking if I felt different or anything.

Speaking of, I'm lying in bed currently, slowly waking up when I register a weight on top of me. Alarmed, I reach up to touch it and my hand lands on someone's back, my chin tipping down to the see the top of a buzzed head. Stiles.

His cheek is pressed against the space right above my breasts, breath fanning over my skin, arm wrapped around my waist and his leg hooked over mine, his body faced down. How the hell did he get in here?

"You awake?" He mumbles against me.

I don't answer verbally, moving my hand up and down his back and pressing a light kiss to his head. "How did you get into my room? Or rather, my house?"

"You should reconsider your hiding spot for the spare key," he says a bit vaguely, his head moving so his chin is against my chest and our noses are about a centimeter apart. "Never know who could get in."

"Like sneaky boyfriend's who like to cuddle?" I retort with a cheesy smile.

He smirks, something unexpected, and bumps his nose affectionately with mine. "You love cuddling," he points out in a low voice.

I roll my eyes, "Duh. What girl doesn't like a tall guy who's into that stuff."

He's about to respond when my eyes fall to his lips and I capture them with mine. I really don't care about morning breath, his lips just look too enticing. He pauses for a moment, before his hand cups the back of my head to press his lips harder against mine, shifting his body on top of mine and holds himself up on his forearms. We continue kissing until he pulls back, eyes wide and bewildered. "I haven't even brushed my teeth yet," he protests but he's smiling a little.

"I don't care," I shrug off, smiling dopily at him.

He stares at me with amazement and adoration, like I'm the most precious thing in the world in his eyes. And that's how he makes me feel. Like I'm the only girl in the world, or that I'm the luckiest girl ever because I'm dating the most amazing boy I've ever met. I know it's cliche, but it's true.

He initiates the kiss this time, the kiss more passionate, my arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to me and joy spreading through my entire being.

Now this is a wake-up call.

☾

It's gym and we're doing rock climbing, everyone in sports clothing. I'm wearing a red tank top and black shorts, which was a little too short but, whatever. Sure, I can climb fast now due to my physique and unnatural speed and agility, it should be a piece of cake. My eyes are trained on Allison and Scott who are up against each other for the rock climbing thing, smiling as they talk. Allison is purposely going slow for Scott, which is ironic.

Thank the Gods I don't have a phobia of heights.

A pair of arms wraps around my waist from behind, pulling my back against a chest and a chin resting on the top of my head. I instantly know who it is by the fingers. I mean, come on, who else has fingers that long and skinny?

"What are you thinking?" Stiles whispers.

"How do you know I'm thinking about anything?" I sass.

He nudges my foot with his. "You always have something going on in that big, beautiful mind of yours." I smile and lean back into him, giggling quietly when he kisses the crown of my head.

"Well, what are you thinking?" I shoot back.

"It's too inappropriate to say right now, but it involves these shorts and your legs," he whispers cheekily, surprising me when his hand falls to my hip and squeezes gently, a flare of lust shooting through me.

I would've retorted if it wasn't for Scott falling off the wall due to Allison stomping on his foot, the harness preventing him from hitting the mat. A loud, boisterous laugh leaves my lips that match Stiles', his chest rumbling against my back. Even more when he does hit the mat.

Coach sits down on the mat to say, "McCall, I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy. Right?" He laughs and stands up, searching the crowd. "All right, next two. Stilinski, Archer, let's go and stop canoodling."

I smirk and move from Stiles, turning around to wink at him, eyes running down his body appreciatively. He's wearing bright green track pants that have white stripes down the sides and a blue t-shirt with a yellow muffin and the word "stud" printed above it. We're like the only ones in class that aren't wearing dull colors.

"Ready for me to win, stud muffin?" I say confidently, strapping myself in the safety harness like him.

"Don't be too sure, I'm actually pretty good at this," he retorts. I grab the first grip and pull myself up, grabbing another. I may be short with small arms, but I'm in pretty good shape. He follows close behind, talking. "Are you sure your okay for this? I mean, you have pretty short arms and you are one of the smallest kids in class."

I stop briefly as he comes face-to-face with me, quirking up an eyebrow. "Are you trying to imply that just because I'm short I can't climb a rock wall?"

His eyes widen, scared that he offended me. "Uh... I don't know how to respond," he whispers.

I smile and wink again, feeling flirty and light today. "Just try to keep up," I sing, grabbing another fake rock and climb, placing my feet on the next rocks. "If you beat me, I'll give you a prize. Even if you don't, so it's a win-win."

That should give him some incentive, confirming my thoughts when I hear his heart skip a beat and breathe out, "You're gonna be the death of me." As I quickly scale the wall, I can feel the Stiles boring holes into me with his intense gaze. "At least I've got the best view in town."

I bite my lip and surprisingly, I don't blush. Instead, I look down and say, "I could say the same for you."

His face becomes blotchy at being caught, but we don't stop climbing. In the end, I win with him close behind, smirking as I slowly make my way down the wall. I land on my feet as Coach laughs while I unbuckle the harness. "Nice going, Stilinski, getting beat by your girlfriend. Good job, Archer."

Stiles playfully glares at me after getting out of his harness, which I match with a raised eyebrow. "What? You didn't beat me, but like I said: If you beat me, I'll give you a prize. Even if you don't, so it's a win-win," I repeat what I said before, word for word.

He smirks, proud of himself. "Awesome." He grows quiet but his smirk never leaves his lips as we move to stand with Lydia, Allison, and Scott, the two girls looking at me questioningly but I ignore their stares.

"Up next, Erica and Greenberg," Coach says the last name with disdain dripping over the word. To be honest, Greenberg does kind of suck.

I can see Erica nervously look up at the wall while Greenberg smirks and cracks his knuckles, probably thinking that it'll be easy. He's another douche on the team, one that I nearly punched in the stomach for a vulgar comment he made about me last year before I left for New York.

As the other blonde slowly climbs the wall, way behind Greenberg as her breathing is quite audible, Greenberg smirking as he quickly scaled down the wall after getting to the top and Erica stops in the middle. Her heart is beating like crazy, her fear potent as she starts to hyperventilate. Oh, no, this is not good.

"Erica," Coach calls out as everyone gathers around, us five in the front near Coach. "Dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

Lydia and I give him a look as we say in unison, "Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear."

He looks down at us with a confused expression as Lydia adds, "She's just freaking out."

But it's not that. It's something else.

"Erica," Coach calls out again.

"I'm fine," she squeaks out, which is a lie. She has to get down, like right now.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe," Allison says. "You know she's epileptic."

Wait, what? Oh, no, this is very bad.

"Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff?" Coach asks rhetorically, freaking out himself. "Erica, y-you're fine. Just kick off from the wall. There's a mat to catch you."

"Coach, let me do this," I say quietly, not looking at him, moving closer to the wall and look up at her. "Erica, it's Mary Anne. I know that you're scared, but I'll be right here to help you, okay? Just try to take deep breaths," I advise in a gentle tone. "Trust me." Slowly, she lets go of the wall and drops gradually, my hands going to her waist to steady her. "See, you're fine, back on the ground," I smile kindly at her as she quickly unclasps the harness, and turns around. I wrap an arm around her waist and help her through the crowd that parted, and the kids start to laugh. "Hey! Shut the hell up!" I yell, anger bubbling up beneath my skin. It does get them to shut up, and I help Erica the rest of the way to the girl's locker room. She sits on a bench, tears welling in her light brown eyes and I crouch a little in front of her. "Erica, it's okay, you're okay." She shakes her head, a tear spilling from her eyes. I gingerly wipe it away, smiling at her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asks with a strained voice, genuinely confused.

I sigh softly and move to sit next to her, rubbing her arm. "I knew someone back in New York who had epilepsy," I confess. "I remember when I first found out. She was having a really bad seizure in the middle of class one day, and I got so scared. After that, I helped her with them. Calmed her down, made sure she wouldn't get worked up. She vented to me a lot, and if you're comfortable with that, I'd like for you to talk to me whenever things get tough. You can talk to me about anything and I'll listen."

She looks at me with watery eyes, moving to hug me which I return. "Thank you," she says gratefully. "No one's ever done this for me."

I smile at her when we break apart. "Well, I'm honored to be the first," I say sincerely.

She stops smiling when girls start to flood into the locker rooms, standing up and looking uncomfortable. "Thanks again, Mary Anne. I'll see you later." Before I could ask her something she hurries away just as Allison and Lydia approach me.

"What happened?" Allison asks, concerned.

"I calmed her down, and I made a new friend now," I say, proud that I helped someone.

"Anyways, what was going on with you and Stiles?" Lydia asks, smirking. "I saw you two getting all cozy out there."

I roll my eyes but smile, huffing. "We're good, really good. He sneaked into my room last night and I woke up with him sleeping on top of me..." I say but my hands starting to shake. I try to stop it but it won't, not even curling them into fists. Pain flares up the back of my neck and spreads through my skull, making me wince. Then, a metallic taste floods my mouth, like blood. An aura.

"Mary Anne?" Allison asks, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Erica," I whisper, sensing something. Trouble, fear, dread.

I run away from them, ignoring their yells as I run as fast as I can to the gym. As I push through the doors, I see other people flooding through the doors as Scott catches Erica when she falls from the wall. I quickly make it over there, seeing Scott lay her on the ground, her body convulsing.

"Put her on her side," I order, Scott following them and holding her hand. Stiles is next to him with Allison on my other side.

"How did you two know?" Allison asks.

"I just felt it," I said at the same time as Scott, my eyes glued to Erica.

What the hell is happening?

☾

After yesterday I've been trying to figure out why I felt Erica having a seizure. It's weird and unnerving, but I've been concerned about the other blonde ever since. Stiles questioned how Scott and I 'sensed' it but we have no viable answer, unable to explain. It's hard enough trying to figure out what I am, we don't need to figure out why we could sense an approaching seizure.

Right now, I'm at my locker, putting things in that I don't need for the rest of the day, already wishing it was three o'clock already. I love school, I really do, but sometimes I wish that I didn't even show up in the first place. Especially when I get to chem, something I enjoyed back in New York, but now I loathe it.

"Hey, Mary Anne."

The unexpected voice startles me, my back stiffening and my shoulder bumping into my locker door. What the... Matt's smiling face comes into view as he leans against the locker next to mine, his camera around his neck. Oh, great, now this. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he apologizes, sounding sincere. What?

"You didn't scare me," I immediately deny. "You just caught me off guard."

He smirks, "Right." Something about his smirk makes my skin crawl and uncomfortable, shifting back a bit.

"Is there a reason for this little tête-à-tête?" I ask stiffly, closing my locker and locking it without looking at him. When I do turn around to face him, I see that he's gotten closer and is practically towering above me. My body grows even more rigid at his extremely close proximity, eyes widening, feet rooted to the spot.

"I just wanted to know if you were free this weekend, maybe wanted to hang out, or even go on a date," he proposes, his hand coming up to brush along my bicep, breaking me out of my frozen state.

Reflexively, my own hand shoots out to encircle his wrist, quicker than he anticipated. "Matt, do you not know that I have a boyfriend?" I ask sarcastically, dropping his hand. "It isn't like Stiles and I hide our relationship."

Something akin to anger and jealousy flares up in his blue eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. Shifting awkwardly, he chuckles, "I mean, I've seen you two around with each other, but I didn't think it was serious."

Quick to grow defensive, I glare up at him. "It's quite serious. I don't date anybody on a whim, or intend for it to be a fling. I'm sorry, but I can't, and won't, go on a date with you."

He looks hurt, but really, I can't find it in myself to feel sorry for him. He's the one who asked out a girl who's taken. "Alright then," he clears his throat, stepping back and giving me a weak smile. "Sorry, about that." Turning on his heel, he quickly scurries off, and only then does my posture grows more relaxed. Gods above, what other weird or tiring thing is gonna happen to me today?

Guess I spoke too soon.

My attention is drawn to an erratic heartbeat as I make my way down the hall towards the cafeteria, pace quickening to inspect it. My eyes fall to Jackson intimidating a teary-eyed Lydia who's pressed against the wall.

"You ruined everything!"

Without thinking I charge at Jackson and pin him to the lockers with a loud thud, his front to them, and I wrap my hands around his wrists to keep him there. "You go near Lydia like that again and I'll call the Sheriff. I have him on speed dial. And you know exactly what I am, so you may not want to get on my bad side," I growl, squeezing his wrists and a pained groan leaves his lips.

I let him go and he scrambles away from me, glaring as he leaves. I turn around to check on Lydia but she's gone, out of sight. A sigh leaves my lips and I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in pure frustration. "At least I physically harmed Jackass Douchemore," I mutter to myself, adjusting my bag as I head off for lunch.

As I walk in, I immediately notice my boyfriend sitting at the table Vernon Boyd sits at. I've talked to the tall boy sometimes during class and turns out he's a really good guy. Boyd is holding out keys that Stiles is trying to pull from his hand. What the... I shake my head, instead listening in.

"This isn't a favor," Boyd says. "It's a transaction."

"Right, yeah," Stiles says and lets go, the taller boys arm slowly retracting. "Absolutely." He digs in his pocket and puts a twenty dollar bill on the table. Okay, what the hell is he doing?

"I said fifty," Boyd says.

"Really, I... I remember twenty. I don't know. I have a really good verbal memory. And I remember twenty. I remember that distinct 'twa' sound, 'twa-enty'," Stiles tries to persuade.

I walk over and look down at my boyfriend with a quirked eyebrow. "Do I wanna know?" I ask.

He shakes his head but pulls out the seat next to him and pulls me down to sit in it. Okay, I guess I'm part of this now.

"I said fifty," Boyd says shortly, not fazed by my short conversation with Stiles. "With a 'fa' sound. Hear the difference. If you can't, I can demonstrate some other words with the 'fa' sound."

I laugh and raise my hand to high-five the giant. "Good one, Vernon." He returns the high-five, my hand tiny compared to his.

Stiles gives me a weird look but he continues to try to weasel his way out of giving Boyd the rest of the money for God knows what. "I think I'm recalling it. No. Maybe I just got it confused with... For... Ty." He pulls out another twenty dollar bill to make forty.

Boyd merely eats a Dorito, keeping on a poker face. This is really amusing to witness.

Stiles sighs, "Come on, man, have you seen the piece of crap keep that I drive?"

"You seen the piece of crap bus I take?" Boyd counters sassily.

"Oh for the love of Gods!" I sigh, and dig into my jacket pocket, slamming down a ten. "There!"

"Fifty," Stiles points to it. Boyd smiles widely and holds out the keys again, Stiles smiling back. "Okay. Thank you." He takes the keys and then my hand, getting up and taking me with him.

"What the hell were you doing?" I ask.

He ignores my question and lets go of my hand as he sits in front of Scott and places the keys on the table. "Got 'em." I sigh and sit down next to Stiles, trying not to growl in irritation. I hate being left in the dark about these kinds of things. "Pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink, cool?" Stiles asks his best friend.

Scott doesn't answer, eyes on something behind me as the cafeteria goes quiet. I turn my head and my jaw goes slack as Erica, not the Erica from yesterday, saunters into the room. Short black leather skirt, cheetah print heels, white t-shirt and black leather jacket. Her skin is clear and her hair is curly now, lips painted red. Okay, what the hell happened?

She stops and takes the apple of a freshman, taking a bite out of and smiles coyly.

Okay, what the hell happened to her?

I turn and see Stiles staring at her in astonishment, making me a wee bit jealous. I've never really been jealous before, it's irrational but then again, I've never been in love before. Should I be jealous? I mean, Stiles said he loves me and I believe him, but he's a teenage boy, it's normal. Right?

Lydia puts her palms on the table, making me question what happened to her after she left when I was threatening Jackson. "What... The holy hell... Is that?" She asks.

"It's Erica," Scott answers.

Then she sashays out of the cafeteria, Scott, Stiles and I getting up to follow her. She smells like a werewolf, something I picked up on after Scott identified Isaac through scent, so I had started to notice that Scott does smell different than others. If Derek did choose her to be another of his Beta's, I swear to the Gods I won't hold back if I ever get the chance to fight him.

We run through the halls and finally to the doors with me behind Stiles, but by then it's too late. She starts getting into a familiar black Camaro, grinning at us before sitting down. Derek's head turns towards us and gives a wide, toothy and unnerving smile before peeling down the street.

Fucking prick.