𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇
she could tear you apart if she wanted to

HOPE CLAMBERED OUT of Stiles' Jeep, and the boy in question helped her down by placing a hand on her waist. She stumbled a little, falling against each other. Their eyes met and both pushed away from one another with slight blushes on their cheeks.

Turning around to face Scott, Hope questioned, "Where is she?"

"Over here," Allison's voice called, and the three glanced over to see Allison and Lydia standing by the entrance of the school.

They jogged their way over, the five of them looking back and forth at one another.

"Lyds?" Hope called out softly when she saw the pained expression on the girl's face.

Lydia shook her head back and forth, "It's the same thing. Same thing as the pool. I got into the car heading somewhere totally different, and ended up here. And you told me to call you if there's a dead body." She crossed her arms over her chest to try and keep herself warm.

Stiles' eyes widened and he shouted, "You found a dead body?"

"Not yet." Stiles stared at the strawberry-blonde in confusion, "Not yet? What do you mean not yet? Lydia, you're supposed to call us after you find the dead body." "Oh, no," Lydia denied, wagging her finger in front of her for effect. "I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on."

"How are we supposed to find the dead body?" Stiles practically shouted, hands held out by his sides. "You're always the one finding the dead body."

Hope ventured away from the two arguing teens when something caught her eyes. The tribrid noticed a crimson colored liquid dripping down the sign of their high school.

"Guys," her voice cut through the air, and all four teenagers looked toward her. "I found the dead body." A sickening feeling entered her body at the fact she failed to save yet another person.

THE TEENAGERS WERE back in class, surprised and annoyed that the school was still open even though someone just got murdered there.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors, and similes," Ms. Blake explained, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor. "All tools the writer uses to tell their story," She paused, a grin growing on her face as she glanced down at a certain student's desk. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents."

Lydia shot her an annoyed smile, stating, "You and every guy I've ever dated."

Hope smirked at Lydia's answer. A blush covered her cheeks when she remembered Lydia's hands wandering around her body almost as if she knew what the tribrid needed that night. She can also faintly remember the way her tongue moved around hers.

Stiles glanced at the auburn haired girl and frowned when he noticed her dilated pupils and the way she was biting her lip. He then noticed she was staring at Lydia with a look in her eyes that made him clench the pencil in his hand angrily.

In discomfort, Ms. Blake stammered, "I - uh - well, that was an idiom, by the way." Lydia ignored her words, returning to her drawing.

Scott looked over at his best friend when he smelt his anger and annoyance, only to find him glaring at Lydia and Hope. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Stiles is the smartest dumbest person he knows.

Ms. Blake began to make her way down the aisle once again. "Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or the culture." Her steps ceased, turning to face the class whilst her eyes lingered a little too long on Stiles, Hope, and Scott. "They're phrases that only make sense if you know key words. Saying "jump the gun" in meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race, or a phase like "seeing the whole board."

"Like chess," Stiles mumbled to himself.

"That's right, Stiles," Ms. Blake beamed. "Do you play?"

"Oh, no. My father does," Stiles corrected, twiddling around with his pencil that he almost just snapped in half.

Ms. Blake's face held a tight smile. "Now, when does an idiom become a cliché?"

Hope wasn't surprised when Scott immediately turned to Stiles the second Ms. Blake was far enough away not to hear them.

"I think I can get to Ethan," he whispered over to Stiles, and Hope's interest was instantly piqued. "I'm pretty sure I can make him talk."

Stiles pursed his lips for a moment, "What do you want to do that for?"

"The druids are emissaries, right? So what if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?" Scott questioned, licking his lips in thought.

"That actually makes sense," Hope agreed, looking toward Stiles.

"Okay, first of all," Stiles began, shaking his head slightly in disbelief as he leaned toward them. "I cannot believe that we've gotten to the point where a sentence like, "What if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?" actually makes sense to me. Second of all, we're gonna have a huge problem getting to Ethan."

"What's that?" Scott asked.

"Going through Aiden," Stiles stated, and Hope let out a sigh knowing that Ethan and Aiden had practically become conjoined-twins, no pun intended, since Aiden's suspension - never leaving each other's sight. "Ever since he's been back at school, they're always together. How are we going to separate them again?"

The wheels in Hope's head began to turn - her eyes widened, turning around to face the Martin girl, who was still sketching the tree in her notebook.

The two teenage boys soon caught on and followed her action, all three of them staring intently at Lydia Martin.

Lydia glanced up with an exasperated expression. "What now?"

Their plan had been set into motion.

IT WASN'T LONG before Hope, Stiles, and Scott was standing by an empty staircase with Ethan.

"Why are you even talking to me? I helped with killing your friend." Ethan looked at them with furrowed brows as they lowered their gazes. "How do you know I'm not gonna try and kill another one?" He looked pointedly at Stiles which made Hope growl defensively.

"Is he looking at me?" Stiles asked, standing up straighter. "Are you threatening me? You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to break off an extra large branch of Mountain ash, "wrap it in wolfsbane," he made hand gestures, making it look like he was wrapping something. "—roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking–"

"Whoa, Stiles, okay. We get it," Scott cut Stiles off of threat before he turned back to Ethan. "We're talking to you because I know you didn't want to kill Boyd. And I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn't do it again."

Ethan shook his head. "You don't know what we owe them, especially Deucalion. We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren't alphas."

"What were you?" Hope asked, confused with the way the whole Alpha pack works.

"Omegas," Ethan admitted reluctantly, crossing his arms over his chests. "In actual wolf packs, Omegas are the scapegoat, the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack." 

From beside Hope, Stiles piped in, "So you and your brother were, like, the bitches of the pack?" 

Ethan rolled his eyes at the human, annoyed. "Something like that." 

"What happened?" Scott asked, getting them back on track.

"They were killers," Ethan spat out in disgust. "I mean, people talk about us as monsters. Well, they were the ones who gave us the reputation. And our Alpha was the worst of them." 

"Why didn't you guys just fight back?" Hope interjected. "Form Voltron Wolf, you know? Kick everyone's asses?" 

"We couldn't," Ethan snapped. "We didn't know how to control it back then." 

"Deucalion taught you," Hope concluded, realizing that seemingly everything circled back to him. 

"And then, we fought," Ethan stated, "We took down the whole pack, one-by-one. And by the time we got to our Alpha, he was begging for his life!" He took in a shaky breath and continued, "And we tore him apart — literally." 

Hope held back the growl she so badly wanted to let out. A pack was suppose to be full of love and trust, not betrayal.

"What about your emissary?" Scott asked, the only thing the three of them were yearning to discover. Ethan was silent, and Scott's eyes widened. "They're all dead? Kali and Ennis', too?" 

"All of them except for Deucalion's," Ethan quietly explained. 

"You mean Morrell?" Stiles concluded.

Before Ethan could answer, he shouted in pain, gripping his chest tightly.

"What? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Scott rushed out, coming to Ethan's aid.

"Not me. My brother."

That meant only one thing... he was fighting someone and that someone was probably part of Hope's pack. So, she took off, her feet went pattering down the stairs and bolting across the hallway.

Soon enough, she found herself rushing into the boy's locker room. Cora had Aiden pressed up against the locker, eyes glowing with her fangs and claws bared.

"Cora!" The tribrid exclaimed and rushed over, yanking the brunette off of the Alpha. But, that was a mistake because all Aiden saw was red as he reached forward, grabbing Hope by the neck, his claws sinking into the flesh. He then flung her across the room and into a set of lockers. Her back made a 'crack' noise when it came in contact with the cold metal before she slumped to the floor.

Aiden was now standing over Cora with a forty-five-pound weight in his hands. He struck the weight across her face; her head whipped to the side at the impact.

"Oh, my god!" Lydia, who Hope didn't even notice cowering in the corner, exclaimed.

Just then, the others arrived, and stared in horror at the sight. Stiles spotted Hope on the floor, trying to stand up, so he rushed over to help her.

"You can't do this!" Ethan shouted at his brother, stopping his from beating Cora to death with the weight.

"I'm good," Hope mumbled as she pushed out of Stiles' hold, and ran over to check on Cora just as Lydia slid in beside the brunette in worry. "It'll be fine." She placed her hands over the wound on Cora's head, and muttered a comforting spell.

"She came at me!" Aiden shouted at his brother, trying to defend himself.

"It doesn't matter! Deucalion gave Derek until the next full moon." Ethan looked at Cora in worry. "You can't touch him or her."

"Hey, guys," Stiles spoke as he kneeled down beside Hops to get a look at Cora's wound. "I think she's pretty hurt."

HOPE WAS NOW in Stiles' car, Cora in the backseat as they talked to Allison on the phone. She had found out some more information about the sacrifices.

"Philosophers?"Stiles asked in disbelief, his eyes glancing toward his phone before they returned their attention back to the road. 

Allison had begun to explain what her and Isaac had found in her father's study. He had the five-fold knot Celtic symbol along with five words that categorized the sacrifices. Virgins, Warriors, Healers, Philosopher, and—

"And Guardians," Allison added, her voice ringing out through the jeep from the other end of the phone. "Which after last night has to mean something like law enforcement, right?" Hope and Stiles immediately glanced toward each other. "Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need but you have to get him to believe. Tell your dad. Warn him." 

Stiles nodded his head rapidly, "Okay, okay, okay, I know." 

With that, the call ended.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, trying to wrap their heads around the fact that Stiles had to tell his father about all of the supernatural beings lurking around in Beacon Hills. 

"What are you gonna do?" Cora asked, propping her head up on her elbow on the seat, between them.

"I'm gonna tell him the truth," Stiles explained with a heavy sig. "And I'm gonna need both of you to help."

Soon enough, Stiles' jeep pulled into his driveway.

Hope jumped out quickly, and lowered her seat down so that she could help Cora climb out of the backseat.

Stiles was at the front door, unlocking it while pressing his phone to his ear as Cora flung her arm over Hope's shoulders, steadying herself.

Cora opened and closed her mouth for a second as they slowly approached Stiles who had happened the door. She sighed and then murmured, "thank you... for earlier."

"There's no need for thank you's," Hope told her with a small smile as they walked into the house.

"Here, let me." Stiles walked over to them and slung Cora's other arm over his shoulders so that he could help them up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Before they knew it, Noah came rushing into his son's bedroom seeing as Stiles had called him, still clad in uniform.

Hope was seated beside Cora on the bed as Stiles paced in front of his father.

"Okay, okay, okay?" Stiles' paused, his voice trailing off as his arms began to flail around at his sides. "Okay, yes!" He suddenly exclaimed, only to drop his head again. "No..."

"Stiles?" Noah called out, glancing at the girls who were watching Stiles in amusement.

The only reason Hope wasn't blurting anything out was because it was up to Stiles if he was gonna go through with it or not. And she wasn't about to cross any boundaries.

Stiles winced and places his hands on his hips. "Dad, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just - I'm trying to - I'm just trying to figure out how to start here."

"Hey, I don't have this kind of time."

Hope frowned at how harsh Noah sounded.

"Um..." Stiles tried again and sighed loudly. "For the last year, you've had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right? I mean, all the murdering involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who drowned him, and all these murders right now. It's like...It's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review form my own son." Noah placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at Stiles.

"I know," Stiles sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He glanced around his room, but something caught his eye. He quickly rushed over, grabbing the object off of his dresser. "Okay, see, but that's just it, Dad. The reason that you're losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board." He placed the chess board on his desk. "I need to show you the whole board."

AND THEY WERE still there thirty minutes later.

"Scott and Derek are werewolves?" Noah asked, his brows crinkled as he looked down at the board and then his son.

"Yes."

"And Kate Argent was a werewolf?"

"Hunter. That's — purple's hunter."

"Along with Allison and her father," Hope spoke up, her hand on Cora's thigh in comfort.

"Great," Sheriff muttered, moving his stare toward Hope. "And, Hope, you're a — what did you say it was, Stiles?"

"Um... my story is a little complicated. But, I'm a tribrid. Well, technically a hybrid because I'm only part witch and werewolf right now."

Sheriff gaped at her, "Yeah, and — and my friend Deaton," he pointed at the board. "the veterinarian, is a Kanima?"

"Well, no, no, no," Stiles rushed out, his eyebrows raised. "He's a druid, okay? Well, we think."

"So who's the Kanima?"

Hope huffed a little. "Jackson."

"No, Jackson's a werewolf," Noah argued, pointing toward the chess piece that had Jackson's name scribbled on a sticky-note.

"Jackson was a Kanima first," Stiles began, "And then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf. Now, he's in London."

Sheriff frowned, "Who's the Darack?"

"It's Darach," Stiles corrected.

"We don't know yet," Cora added, getting annoyed with their long explanation of everything that wasn't needed.

Stiles pointed a finger toward Cora, his eyes not wandering from his father as he repeated: "We don't know yet."

"But he was killed by werewolves?"

"He or she," Hope mumbled to herself.

Stiles huffed, "Slashed up and left for dead."

"We think," Hope added, realizing this was going no where.

The Sheriff contemplated the new information, trying to comprehend everything that they have told him.

"Why was Jackson the Kanima?" Noah asked suddenly, glancing up at his son.

"Because sometimes, the shape that you take reflects the person that you are."

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier-by-the-second father take?" Noah asked, his face beginning to contort into one of fury because his son had wasted his time on nonsense when he was trying to catch a murder that was running around town killing innocent people.

Stiles gaped at his father, "Uh, that would be more of an expression, like the one you're currently wearing."

"Yeah."

Sheriff Stilinski got up from his chair, making an attempt to leave the bedroom.

Stiles jumped up to his feet, and tried to stop him by getting in his way. "Dad...Dad, would you — I can prove it, okay? They can show—"

"Stiles," Sheriff began, only raising his voice when his son kept talking. "Stiles! That's enough."

"Dad, can you please just hold on?" Stiles begged. When his father paused at the door, Stiles turned to Cora and Hope, nodding. "You guys ready?"

Hope stood up along with Cora. But, as Hope raised her hand, ready to do a spell, Cora slumped to the floor.

Hope gasped and bent down, checking the wound on her face which was bleeding profusely again. "Oh, crap."

Noah rushed forward and checked Cora's temperature, and glanced at Hope who little a little pale herself. He looked up at his son, a hard expression overcoming his features. "Call an ambulance."

HOPE WAS FOLLOWING behind Stiles and his father down the halls of the hospital, feeling a shiver go up her spine. She didn't know what was happening, but she will admit that the past hour she hasn't fell the healthiest. It was like something was slowly twisting away in her stomach.

"What did you see the night at the bank when Scott was trying to save Deaton?" Stiles asked his father, a little annoyed his father wasn't believing him.

"Nothing."

"Dad, you saw him healing himself," Stiles began, quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure Hope was still there. "— after he tried crossing the Mountain Ash."

"I don't know what I saw."

"You saw something that you can't explain."

Sheriff refused to believe what Stiles was trying to tell to him, "Stiles, I have seen a lot of things I can't explain in this town." That was the biggest understatement of the year. "That doesn't make them supernatural, and it doesn't make them real. They just found a body. That's real. And that's the lead I'm following."

"Dad, another teacher's gonna die if you don't start listening to me," Stiles added, desperately trying to get his father to understand where he was coming from.

Sheriff Stilinski's temper raised to a boiling point, and he whirled around to face his son, "I am listening! I have been listening!"

Hope stopped walking and just stared at Noah with wide eyes. She slowly walked towards Stiles and reached out for his hand. She intertwined their fingers and sent him a small smile when he glanced down at their combined hands and then at her.

"You just don't believe," Stiles mumbled, realization making his shoulders slump. Noah opened his mouth to speak, but opted on turning around and walking away. "Mom would have believed me."

Hope pulled Stiles into a hug without even saying a word, and rubbing his back with delicate fingers.

HOPE FOUND HERSELF walking alongside Stiles inside the High School.

"I'm going to search the school, make sure nothing happens," she spoke up to Stiles who turned to her really fast.

"No, you're not going by yourself." He shook his head and went to walk with her, but she presses her palm against his chest. He sputtered, his cheeks growing red.

"Stiles, go in there, please. You'll be safe in a place full of people if something goes down." Plus, she wasn't feeling that great and she wanted him to not see her like this.

"I want to be with you. Protect you," he protested, shaking his head. "You can't go looking by yourself."

She fondly rolled her eyes. "Stiles... for once in your life, listen to me. Please." She looked him in the eyes, not blinking.

He frowned, and broke the eye contact after a second. "Fine," he grumbled and when she went to pull her hand away, he placed his over it, pressing her hand further onto his chest. "Just promise me you'll be alright."

Hope smiled, her own cheeks heating up. "I promise." She pulled her hand away when he reluctantly lowered his. She turned around to walk away before pausing. Biting inside her cheek, she turned to face Stiles who was still watching her. She took in a deep breath and walked towards him quickly, placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, and then walked off quickly, a big smile on her face.

Stiles froze in shock, his hand flying up to touch his cheek where she kissed him. "Oh, my god," he whispered to himself before pumping the air.

Soon enough, Hope went down a quiet hallway, a eery feeling creeping up here body, giving her goosebumps. She wasn't scared, no, but she felt like something was stuck in her throat. She has an inkling on what was wrong with her, but doesn't know how it would've happened to her.

Suddenly, a loud crash caught her attention, and she spun around to face Lydia. "You startled me," she breathed out, swallowing thickly.

Lydia frowned at her. "Are you okay? You look pale and sweaty."

Hope nodded her head, suddenly feeling a little nauseous. "I'm fine."

"If you say so." She looked towards an empty classroom. "Aiden texted me to meet up with him. Will you stick with me just in case he is angry?"

Hope immediately straightened up, not even noticing that she was slouching. "Of course."

Together, they walked into the darkened room, and Hope felt like something was taking over her body. It felt oddly similar to when Matt fired witch hazel bullets into her.

Lydia paused, looking around the room with wide eyes, hearing something that Hope couldn't.

"You recognize it, don't you?"

Hope and Lydia both turned to their right to see familiar face coming out of the shadows.

Jennifer Blake stood before them, a snarl on her face.

Hope flung out her hand towards her, but suddenly, everything between swirling in her vision, and the sickness she felt suddenly got worse. Black dots took over her vision and then she was falling to the floor. Her temple hit the corner of a desk and everything went black.

IT WASN'T LONG before Hope awakened with a splitting headache and blood caked on her face from her wound which hasn't healed yet. She went to touch her head, but found her hands bound behind her with a wire that dig into her wrists when she pulled.

"I can clearly see I underestimated you," a sadistic sounding voice said and Hope glanced over with hazy eyes to see the blurry face of Jennifer.

Lydia was right in front of her, unconscious in a chair, much like she had been.

"You are sick!" Hope gasped out, feeling pain spread throughout her head when she moved. Not only could she feel blood on her face, but she was also covered in sweat.

Lydia groaned and her head began to loll forward. She gasped loudly and sat up straighter, her hazel-green eyes wide in fear. "What are you doing?" She asked once she saw Jenifer in front of them, her voice hoarse and shaky.

"What's necessary. I'm still surprised none of you seem to get that. You call them sacrifices, but you're not understanding the word. It's derived from the Latin sacrificium, an offering to a deity, a sacred rite. A necessary evil," Jennifer explained, her words echoing loudly in Hope's ears.

"You think I'm afraid of you or Deucalion?" Hope let out a laugh that rung through the room. "Honey, my father is known as the most ruthless killer. And trust me, I take after him more than people know." She smirked and looked up at the woman with anger filled eyes.

"I knew I should've upped the dose of mistletoe for you," Jeniffer sneered and them smirked. "But, that's fine. You both will be gone soon."

"That's what you think," Hope whispered with an indescribable look in her blue eyes.

"Stop," Lydia whimpered out, sobbing.

"Oh, I wish I could," Jennifer muttered and towered over the two girls. "But you don't know the Alphas like I do."

"Please, stop," Lydia begged, tears falling down her cheeks.

"You two are just girls who know too much. Actually, girls who knew too much." Jennifer moved to stand behind Lydia, wrapping something around her neck, the thin wire shining from the moonlight that shone though the windows.

Hope began struggling, the wires around her wrist digging into her skin and drawing blood. She tried to call on her magic, but it seemed like a barrier was wrapped around her, trapping the energy.

Lydia felt a pressure on her chest and she instantly knew what she needed to do. She screamed.

Hope groaned and bent over as more pain entered her body, and it felt like her eardrums were going to burst.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing yellow irises that shone brightly in the dark room. A deep growl ripped through her chest, and she maliciously looked up at Jennifer through her eyelashes as she breathed in deeply.

"Unbelievable," Jennifer gasped, her grip on the garrote had disappeared as she moved to stare at Lydia. "You have no idea what you are, do you? The wailing woman — a Banshee, right before my eyes. You're just like Hope and I, Lydia. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it. It's too bad, though. And too late."

Hope felt her whole body boil in rage, and she closed her eyes tightly, feeling her magic build up to the point the barrier that wrapped around her snapped. Her eyes snapped open and she screamed loudly, much like she had when the Hollow had taken over her, and a burst of energy left her body to the point it blew desks backwards.

Jeniffer froze and just stared at Hope with wide eyes. "You really are powerful, aren't you?" She stood in front of the tribrid and yanked out a knife, and held it to her throat.

"Drop it!"

Hope's eyes widened when she heard Stiles' father's voice shout. When the blade moved from her neck, she instantly knew where it was going to go. "Noah, watch out!" She shouted, but her voice died down when the blade whizzed through the air, lodging itself deep in Stilinski's shoulder, causing the gun in his hand to clatter against the floor.

Suddenly, a loud growl emitted throughout the room. Scott was transitioning into a werewolf right before their eyes.

Jennifer hadn't even had the chance to move away from the two girls before Scott flung himself over the aisle of desk, clawing at the air where Jennifer's throat used to be.

The woman was quick, too quick. Her hand met with Scott's chest, and the boy went flying across the room into a stack of desk.

Hope grew even angrier and she didn't even care what she had to do to herself to help her friends. Taking in a deep breath, she dislocated her thumbs to be able to get her hands through the wires.

A small 'crack' ran through the room, and she was already jumping from her seat without giving into the pain for even a second.

"Dad!" Stiles' voice shouted and Hope turned to face the door.

Jennifer looked up, spotting the teenager standing in the doorway before grabbing her desk, sliding it across the floor and slamming the door shut.

Hope just moved herself so she was crouched in front of John, glaring at Jeniffer.

"There was a girl," Sheriff began, gun held toward Jennifer while the blade was still protruding out of his flesh, "years ago, we found her in the woods, her face and body slashed apart. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Maybe I should have started with philosophers, with knowledge and strategy."

A gunshot rang loudly though the room, a bullet landing directly in Jennifer's right thigh only for it to heal seconds later.

She wasted no time in advancing on Sheriff, but seeing as Hope was guarding him, she had to stop when the tribrid growled in warning.

"Don't take another step or I'm slashing your throat open," Hope spat out, her eyes glowing dangerously.

Jennifer rolled her eyes and launched herself at Hope. They began kicking and slashing at one another. But, Hope was growing weakened by the bit of mistletoe that is in her system and the way she exerted herself with her magic.

Jeniffer noticed that, and simply kicked the tribrid harshly in the chest which sent her flying through the air. Her back hit the wall with a loud thud and she fell to the cold floor, groaning.

Smirking, the older woman made her way to Noah who was standing in shock at what had just happened.

"Healers. Warriors. Guardians."Jennifer slammed Stilinski against the wall of stacked desk, ripping the sheriff's badge off of his shirt before squeezing it into a folding piece of metal. "Virgins."

There was a disturbing silence as Jennifer pressed her lips to Sheriff Stilinski's, the man immediately recoiling back in time to notice Jennifer's true face.

The once beautiful woman, had been replaced with a creature's face.

The Darach let out a screech and then there was the sound of glass shattering.

Stiles had been too late, only just falling into the classroom right after the chaos had ended. His converse squeaked against the tiled floor as he raced toward the window. "Dad?"

Hope blinked back tears that shone in her eyes and then slumped more onto the floor, the pain and tiredness catching up to her. And then suddenly, everything was black once again.

The last thing she heard was Stiles and Scott yelling out her name.