Going to another high school's party was pretty low on Rachel's to-do list.

Frankly, if she were to pinpoint exactly how low, its exact level would rank in below Hell, where she currently felt as though she was located, despite the cool night air lightly breezing past her she walked quietly along with Scott & Stiles, wishing she was anywhere but there. She'd only ended up going because Scott practically begged her to— Stiles wanted to go because the hostess was an old friend, and he was dragging Scott with him, but the aforementioned teen wolf wasn't about to go & be left chatting with random strangers once Stiles found his other friend.

So, despite her million problems (most of which were at her new home, a loft that she had still yet to see) Rachel found herself on the way to a party, regretting every choice she'd made that led her there. She was still mentally hitting herself for leaving less than a minute after Isaac woke up, using the excuse of having to drive Stiles home to get herself out of having to talk to him & never going back. The least she could have done was asked if he was okay, which he probably wasn't— but she didn't take the time to consider that before reluctantly agreeing to let Scott drag her to a stupid party.

"What?" Stiles asked, looking from Rachel to Scott.

"What do you mean, what?" Scott questioned, seeming completely confused by the question."

"I mean what & you know what." He snapped.

"What what?" Scott asked, now even more confused— as if that was even possible.

"The look on your face, moron." Rachel grumbled, rolling her eyes. "The same one I've had since you asked me to come with you. Y'know, the distinctive "I'd rather eat a bowl of wolfsbane cereal than go to a party" look."

"Exactly!"

"It's not that." Scott shrugged, playing it off. "It's just seems weird, going to a different school's party."

"True." The brunette agreed, continuing on with more valid points. "There's also the fact that my idiot brother could be executing another one of his idiot plans as we speak. Particularly, one that will get innocent people killed."

"What? Would you— God, one drink, alright?" Stiles groaned, growing annoyed. You'll be fine. I went to nursery school with this girl, okay? She promised to introduce us to all of her friends. So tonight, no Allison, no Lydia & if you indirectly mention Isaac one more time, I'm never talking to you again. Tonight, we're moving on."

"You're right." Scott nodded, having been persuaded by Stiles' speech to give moving on a shot.

"That's right, I'm right."

"Moving on."

"Onward & upward."

"So we're just gonna pretend you're both not going to be back to chasing after the ones you really love by tomorrow? Okay." Rachel laughed dryly. They could play pretend all they wanted, but she knew for a fact that Scott wouldn't give up on Allison after a thirty-second speech from Stiles, and nor would the spastic teen simply drop all the feelings she knew he still had for Lydia. "Also, for the record, I didn't indirectly mention the person you just told me not to mention. I mentioned all the innocent people Derek if going to get killed if he continues being a reckless idiot."

"Keep denying it, but you totally did." Stiles shrugged, still grinning. "I swear, the first chance I get, I'm locking you two in a room so you have no choice but to talk about whatever the hell you're desperately trying to avoid."

"I'm not avoiding anything." She lied. "I just don't want to hear about whatever Derek's been doing."

"You're a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying! If I was seriously trying to avoid him, I wouldn't be going to the loft, also known as where he's staying, after the party. But guess what? I'm going to the damn loft & I'm gonna steal Peter's laptop so I can watch the episode of Pretty Little Liars that I'm currently missing to attend this stupid party."

"Mhm, I'm sure you are." Stiles mused, his intentions only to annoy her further. "Or you're just gonna climb in my window like you did this morning to avoid having to go there. You've gotta go home eventually, you know that right? You need food. And a shower."

Rachel looked at him in shock. Seriously? She showered yesterday morning, and she had every intention of doing it again tomorrow morning— every other day unless she had gym class or broke a sweat in the midst of running/fighting for her life (so while in Beacon Hills, every damn day). And she wasn't even going to get started on how much she'd had to eat in the past few days. So many fries. Too many fries. On the drive to Beacon Hills, she'd stopped at a minimum of three takeout joints, diners & coffee shops for food, and she regretted absolutely nothing. Except the fries from a gas station slash restaurant that she'd ended up throwing up hours later, she regretted those quite a lot.

"I'm not gonna climb in your stupid window, alright? I'm gonna go home & talk about my nonexistent problems with you-know-who, figure out a way to get the keys to Peter's car, take the laptop from the trunk & watch my damn show. Then shower. Then sleep." She grumbled, hoping she made herself clear this time. "Should I repeat that with more detail?"

"No, 'cause we're here." Stiles stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gesturing to the large two-story home presumed to belong to his childhood friend. Leading up to the doorway was a short stone path, one of which Stiles was quick to follow.

Scott, on the other hand, stayed still, turning to Rachel with concern. "How does my breath smell?"

"I'm not smelling your breath." She responded almost instantly in a monotone, thankful that she still had yet to regain werewolf senses once more. "But it probably smells like the last thing you ate, genius."

"Do you have any gum?"

"Yeah, totally— I'm a gum dealer. What kind are you looking for? Spearmint? Peppermint? That fiery cinnamon shit?" Rachel remarked, having to resist the urge to laugh at what she'd just said. One thing about reflecting, she never ceased to acquire a few of the person's strongest personality traits; whether it be the bitterness she got from Derek, the "save everybody" attitude from Scott, or the undying sarcasm from Stiles. "No. No gum. You're fine, just go."

"Stiles?" Scott questioned as the two caught up with the aforementioned teen who'd already made it to the door. "Can you at least tell me what kind of party this is?"

Before he could answer, the front door quickly swung open, a petite blonde, who Rachel assumed to be the party's hostess, taking it's place.

"Stiles! Hi!" She greeted cheerfully.

"Hey." He smiled. "There's the birthday gir—"

Before he could continue, the girl cut him off by kissing him, a little too slowly & passionately for casually greeting someone at the door. Rachel practically cringed at the sight — to her, it reeked of desperation even without supernatural senses — & as soon as she turned to Scott, she saw him mirroring her expression, with a little confusion mixed in. Uncomfortable did not even begin to describe either of them.

The blonde girl giggled as she pulled away, still smiling. "So glad you made it."

"Me too."

"Come downstairs with me & help me pick out a bottle of wine." She insisted, gesturing toward a door near the back of the room behind her. Stiles nodded quickly, muttering an incoherent "yes" & following along with her, leaving Rachel & Scott to mingle amongst the other partygoers.

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark & say this is the kind of party where Stiles is going to be doing a whole lot more than picking out a bottle of wine." Rachel muttered as the two made their way through the house to a small bar at the kitchen. "Not even a minute in the house & he already ditched us."

"Can you blame him?"

"The part of me that's thinking the same way he does can't," she sighed, pausing for a second as she moved an empty blue cup off a bar stool so she could sit. "But the part of me that hates parties, let alone ones where I'm stuck to socialize with people I don't know, that part definitely can."

"Maybe you should try socializing?" Scott suggested, raising a brow. "It's a party. Try something new— I'm not saying get passed out drunk or do drugs, don't do either of those. Find someone who's not totally hammered & have a conversation. Hey! That guy over there, he's looking at you, go talk to him."

"I'd rather get passed out drunk, and for the record, Scott, he's not looking at my face— he's pretty much looking at everything except that. God, why did I wear shorts?" Rachel groaned, regretting her horrible life choice. She should've worn baggy sweatpants, one of Derek's old t-shirts & some ratty sneakers— then no one would be able to distinguish her thin frame, especially not creeps. "Here's an idea, why don't you go socialize? Set an example, Scott. That girl's been looking at you ever since the door opened— she looks nice. Go talk to her."

"I'm fine here."

"Oh yeah, I forgot, cute redheads aren't your type." Rachel laughed softly, the look on Scott's face making it obvious that he was about to argue. Before he could, she continued. "You're more of a "brunette, former huntress, adorable dimples" type of guy, am I right? Actually, don't answer that, I know I'm right. What happened to moving on?"

"I could ask you the same question." He countered, a crooked smile quickly forming on his face. It was painfully obvious how proud he was of that comeback.

"The guy you pointed out was like 20 & I'm 95% sure he's high right now. The girl I told you to talk to looks your age & is cute— hell, if I played for that team, I'd take a shot." She shrugged, her similarity to Stiles shining through once more. She hated it. She wanted to be back to the bitter, hateful Rachel Hale that she always was, but doing so would require being supernatural— and her making herself supernatural literally an hour before going back to Derek would mean defeat.

"Okay, fine, what about the guy sitting on the couch? He's cute." Scott suggested, discreetly pointing at a mediocre seventeen-ish boy seated on the couch, looking to be in the midst of a conversation with one of his friends. Rachel muttered a quiet "eh" & shook her head, whilst Scott chuckled softly. "Oh yeah, I forgot, cute redheads aren't your type. You're more of a "skyscraper, werewolf, introvert" type of girl, am I right?"

"That is quite possibly the worst description I've ever heard." She retorted, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time tonight. "Wait, hold up. If you're describing who I think you're describing, how the hell do you even know abou— Stiles! I'm gonna kill him. Slowly & painfully. How much did he tell you?"

"Nothing, actually." The teen wolf admitted honestly. He didn't know for sure about her exact feelings, but he did know she was pretty damn concerned about finding him this morning, and when she finally did, she was a nervous wreck & left. For as long as Scott had known her, Rachel didn't get nervous, not like that, even if she did have a bit of Stiles' anxiety worsening what was already there. No matter how hard he tried, he recall a time when he'd ever witnessed her actually get nervous, not because someone was chasing her & threatening her life, but simply because of another person. "It's kinda obvious."

"Obvious obvious?" Rachel asked, only getting a look of confusion in response. "How obvious is obvious?"

"Uh, obvious?" Scott shrugged in response, unsure of exactly how he was supposed to answer that question.

"Oh my God." She exhaled, smacking her knee that wouldn't stop bouncing restlessly, no matter how hard she tried to remain still. The more she overthought the situation, the more she seemed to trigger the anxiety. How Stiles managed to get through the day with it, she had yet to determine, because in three hours it'd managed to drive her half insane.

Rachel knew not all of the anxiety had been acquired when she reflected Stiles' human abilities, some of it was definitely her own— a lot of it, as a matter of fact. The only reason she had yet to return to being a werewolf, was the fear in the back of her mind that all the anxiety was hers, and she was simply blaming it on being a Stiles. She'd been putting all the blame on her abilities & the way they'd almost always cause her to mimic a few personality traits of the person she'd temporarily become a supernatural reflection of. It happened before, so of course it would happen again, right?

Besides, Rachel didn't have anxiety, she didn't get nervous, and she sure as hell did not like the idea of someone being able to make her feel as though she did. Sure, she was a teenager like any other & was more than capable of being attracted to someone— but was she expecting that to make her a stupid nervous wreck? No. She'd had plenty of guys approach her in the past, and she was able to hilariously reject them without feeling a single thing. No nerves, no panic, no anything, no matter how hot they were; and believe her when she said at least one was definitely a solid 10. But every last one was turned down, because she knew in a matter of days, weeks, months, she'd be gone as if she'd never even been there to begin with. She never stayed in one place long enough to get to know anyone, to care about anyone. But Beacon Hills was different.

It was where she began, and it was where she feared she'd one day end as long as the ties that bind continued to drag her back, despite the deep resentment she had for the small town. She'd unfortunately grown to care about people here, far too many & too much for her liking, and the fact that another could be added to the list only made her chances of ever being able to truly leave Beacon Hills in her past where it belonged seem to disappear in the wind like a speck of dust. She wanted to hate it, to be able to defenestrate all emotions whatsoever & drive as far as she possibly could away from the damned town & everyone in it, but she couldn't. Because in seven years, despite the pain it brought her & the constant need to fight for her life, she'd never been happier.

"Rachel?" Scott muttered, waving a hand in front of her face. As soon as she snapped out of her thoughts, she was quick to swat it away. "Allison just texted me, something important, said they'll be here in a minute."

"Wonderful." She sighed, getting up off the bar stool & pushing past various partygoers to get to the door. As soon as she opened it, she saw Allison & Lydia hurrying up the stone walkway towards her, the latter looking significantly less concerned of the situation than her brunette companion. "So, what's the 'sitch?"

"I need to show you something." Allison stated, holding out her arm & rolling up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a dark purple & red bruise on her forearm. Only, it didn't look to be a normal bruise that someone would get from accidentally bumping into a doorframe or slamming their arm in a locker; it looked like half of an outrageously large stamp or symbol that had been inflicted intentionally. Lydia then held out her arm with an identical bruise, matching it up beside Allison's to complete the pattern.

"Yeah, uh, that looks like a you problem." Rachel mumbled to Scott, digging around in her pocket for the keys to her Porsche (she still loved referring to it as hers)."I'm gonna go deal with a me problem. Call me if that somehow evolves into something alpha pack related."

—

When Rachel had found out Derek bought a loft, she didn't know what to expect.

It was Beacon Hills, so of course nothing too extravagant or new; the building of new structures was extremely rare, to the best her knowledge. But knowing Derek, if he went to the trouble of actually purchasing a place instead of just presuming it to be abandoned & moving on in, it had to be something. The last something she could recall him buying was a car; which, despite Laura advising him to get something plain, decently priced & reliable, he'd still shown up with a jet black Camaro. To better summarize it, Derek bought what he wanted— and if he wanted a loft, then despite it's address placing it on the shady outskirts of town, it had to be a diamond in the rough.

The minute Rachel caught site of the tallest freaking building in town, she knew damn right it was. It looked aged, with the ground floor windows so dirt coated she couldn't even see inside, but by the time she'd made it all the way up to the twenty-something floor where he said they'd be living, she could see the potential that would be ignored by most. It was surprisingly nice; cold & unwelcoming without so much as a hint of feeling like home, but it was the nicest place she'd stayed in almost a year.

Yes, she planned on staying— despite practically telling Derek he was dead to her & wanting nothing more than to avoid him & others associated with him, she still needed somewhere to stay. If he didn't want her there, he wouldn't have texted her the address & said there was an extra room if she wanted it. Which, she did, sort of. It was the possibility of an awkward encounter with the person she was really trying to avoid that she really did not want, especially whereas she was still a hyperactive, nervous human who wanted to run back to her car & stay there until the coast was clear.

Unfortunately, the chances of that working in her favour weren't looking particularly good, and as she stood awkwardly in front of the loft door procrastinating on whether or not she really wanted to go in, she was quickly beginning to realize that whoever inside was a werewolf & could probably hear her stupid (mostly) human heart pounding like a drum from a mile away.

Oh God. She thought, now wondering if whoever it was already knew she was there. She didn't have heightened senses, so she lacked the ability to tell who exactly was behind the door, but by the faint noises she'd heard a moment ago, there was clearly someone. They probably knew. They definitely knew. But Derek would have opened the door by now, as would Peter (the latter would've likely texted her a combination of emojis prior to doing so). Nobody was near the door as far as she could tell. Nobody had texted her any emojis, either. Only growing more concerned, the brunette patted the pockets of her jacket, pulling her phone from the left side & typing a message to someone she hoped would be able to talk her out of leaving.

1:07am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
How long do you think I can stay outside the loft before someone notices?

1:09am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Idk everyone inside is a werewolf so probably not long lol

1:09am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
You & your acronyms aren't helping.

1:10am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Sry? Just go in the loft, you dont have to talk to derek if your mad at him

1:10am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
You're*
As in, you're not helping. I don't think Derek is here.

1:11am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Thats good isnt it?? Nobodys there so now you can stop worrying

1:12am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
No, someone's definitely here, it's just not Derek. It's not Peter either. So that leaves one option. Does your house have a spare bedroom?

1:12am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Stop avoiding him!!! If you dont want him to know YOU'RE making it more obvious if you avoid him

1:14am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
You're gonna ace english class. And don't you think going in there with a double average heart rate is already obvious? I keep trying to slow it down but it won't. It's like I'm on one of those roller coasters at those dumb fairs & I keep getting that weird fluttery flying feeling. It's annoying.

1:16am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Like in your stomach? Thats called having butterflies lol

1:16am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
Are butterflies digestible? Because I want them dead.

1:17am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Srsly just go in the loft before i text Isaac & tell him you're standing outside the door

1:17am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
If you do that, you better pray Castiel is watching over you because you'll be a dead man when I find you.

1:19am
From: McWeirdo
To: Rachel DiLaurentis
Idk who Castiel is but if you dont go in the loft in the next 3 minutes im texting him (not Castiel, i dont know his number, but i will text Isaac)

1:20am
To: McWeirdo
From: Rachel DiLaurentis
Okay, fine, I'm going.

It was safe to say Rachel took her time fumbling with the set of keys in her hands— she knew the door wouldn't be locked, but chose to try anyways simply to waste time. She still wanted to turn & run, whether it be down twenty-something flights of stairs, or via the elevator; she didn't care (option A would more than likely result in her passing out, though). But Scott was an asshole, and even though she was pretty sure he was joking, she couldn't hear a heartbeat through a phone. She couldn't hear one at all, in her current state. She felt deaf.

Stop getting sidetracked. Rachel thought, exhaling loudly. That alone was enough to alert whoever was inside of her presence if they weren't already aware, she she wanted to punch herself in the face for it (but that would make even more noise). Open the fucking door.

Still holding tightly to the handle of her suitcase, it took more strength than Rachel was willing to admit to slide open the loft door. She tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but once it'd been opened so far, the door began to make a loud screeching noise. The brunette instantly cringed at the sound, stepping inside & wheeling her bag behind her before sliding the door shut once more. She didn't bother with locking it, even if she was weak & defenceless— that could easily change in the blink of an eye.

Turning back to the large, open concept room, Rachel had to admit she was impressed. There was little to no furniture excluding a couch & table off to the side & an unmade bed below a window that seemed to make up most of the back wall, but there was so much space & absolutely no clutter— a total opposite of the warehouse. Derek still had yet to invest in a television, or even an oven, for that matter, though she doubted he ever would; he hated television, and neither of them knew how to cook. As long as there was wifi or decent 3G internet connection on her phone for a personal hotspot, Rachel didn't really care.

"Finally decided to come in?"

"Jesus Christ!" The brunette shrieked, holding a hand over her heart— it was official, the thing she hated most about being a human was not being able to hear someone walking down a goddamn hall until they yelled at her. "You almost gave me a freaking heart attack!"

"Sorry." Isaac called, soon appearing off to the side of the room from a hallway Rachel hadn't noticed. "Wait, are you human?"

"Yeah." She answered. "I told Derek I would be until I need to be otherwise. Is he here?"

"Nope, just missed him— he & Peter left about a few minutes before you showed up." The teen wolf responded, his voice monotone. Something about the way he sounded, Rachel couldn't pinpoint it exactly without heightened senses, but he almost seemed annoyed. She wasn't at all positive of that assumption but the suspicion wouldn't be easily forgotten seeing as how he had many reasons to be annoyed, especially if he knew she was avoiding him (which, by now, she assumed he did).

Great. Alone with the person she least wanted to be alone with; why didn't she just go to Scott's house or stay in her damn car? On the bright side, she didn't have to deal with Derek or her undead uncle, but on the not-so-bright side, she had to deal with an extremely cute werewolf & humanity. Both of which she wished would go away.

"So.. Why were you standing outside the door for so long? Trying to avoid me?" Isaac joked, hopefully missing the momentary look of horror on the reflector's face.

Oh God. "What? No." Rachel denied, a little too quickly. Definitely too quickly. "I— uh, I was texting Scott. Can't text & open a door." Lie. "He replies really fast." Lie.  "Stiles ditched him at the party so I was just seeing if he got a ride home & it spiralled into an emoji war." Lie."Is there a place I can put this suitcase? Derek said there was an extra room." Pathetic attempt at hiding the three aforementioned lies.

"Yeah, just down the hall, it's the first door on the left." He answered, thankfully not yet commenting on how painfully nervous she was acting.

Rachel nodded, speed-walking from her place by the door to the hall, where she immediately noticed the only door on the left side & practically threw herself through it. Once she was inside the room, she hurriedly shut the door behind her, not thinking about it until she was plunged into complete darkness. All it took was two seconds of not being able to see her hand in front of her face as she waved around trying to find a light switch & she was cursing herself for no longer having eyes that lit up like glow sticks— that is, until they did.

One second she couldn't see anything, the next second it was as though she was back to being a werewolf with flawless night vision; only, she wasn't. The glow in her eyes wasn't yellow, blue or red, it was a bright silver shining back at her in the mirror, which she'd somehow come face to face with while flailing around in the darkness. Rachel let out a sigh of relief, her gaze moving to the wall next to the mirror where a little switch was. She flicked it on, the glow fading from her eyes as light illuminated the room, finally allowing her to see where she'd be staying.

The first thought that crossed her mind was damn.

The room, twice as big as the one she'd had at the warehouse, was now officially one she would never be leaving. It was simple, but in a way that she absolutely loved it— particularly because the walls were painted a dull violet, one of her absolute favourite colours. Aside from the colour, the walls were bare excluding a closet door & what she assumed (hoped like hell) to be an ensuite. The room itself was rather empty, the only furniture being a dresser, a double bed pushed up against the wall (cue the internal screaming; an actual double bed where she could sprawl out or roll over without falling on the floor) & a small nightstand beside it. It had a somewhat cold feeling to it, much like the entire building, but overall, Rachel would've sold her soul for something half as nice as this when she was living in an abandoned train warehouse.

Rachel easily recognized some of the old blankets piled at the end of the bed to be hers from the aforementioned building & half smiled to herself. She wasn't sure who'd brought them, but she was happy to have them— even if the stupid quilts did smell like rust & gasoline. Over time, she'd grown to like them despite the overwhelming scent simply because they were warm & being that she was almost always cold, warm things tended to be her favourite things. Her attention soon drifted from the blankets & back to the violet walls, bringing forth yet another recognition.

The rest of the loft was all one colour— the main room, the hallway, and as far as she could tell, the room at the end of the hall matched it too. It could've just been something the previous owner of the loft had done, everyone painted something a random colour at one point in their life, but what are the odds that Derek would buy a loft with one room that happened to be his little sister's favourite colour? Seeing as how the more she focused on it, the more she could smell the lingering paint scent, the odds were zero. Meaning only one thing; he didn't buy it that way, he painted it for her.

A knock on the door forbade the brunette from thinking further into it for the time being, and instead brought all her anxiety back like a freaking tsunami as she knew there was only one possibility of who it could be. What the fuck does he want now? She wheeled her suitcase over by her bed before turning back to the door, pausing as a shiny gold chain momentarily distracted her— a door chain. The constant bitching of people walking in without knocking had finally paid off. She wanted to jump up & down & shriek like a preschooler, but deemed it inappropriate as she made her way over to the door & cracked it open.

"Hey." A familiar teen wolf mumbled awkwardly, instantly regretting his decision of knocking— he should've just stayed away.

"Hey." Rachel repeated, the internal dialogue that had previously been going on in her head now nothing but incoherent screaming.

"I— um, sorry. I was just wondering, were you— uh— were you actually trying to avoid me?"

"What? No." She denied quickly, repeating the same words she'd said earlier. She waited a few seconds for him to say something else, but when he remained quiet, she shook her head softly & sighed. Game over. "Okay, maybe a little. It's just— I've had a lot on my mind lately. I thought about everything I was going to say when I finally got back for three whole months, but the second I saw the Welcome to Beacon Hills sign, my mind went blank. Like, I'm talking Scott's mind in math class kind of blank. To make it ten times worse, I made the idiot choice of telling my brother I'd stay human & of all the people I could've used to become that, it just had to be the hyperactive spaz with crippling anxiety. Even now, when I'm a hundred percent me & trying to piece my goddamn thoughts back together, the stupid anxiety is still there smashing any progress I make with a fucking metaphorical hammer."

"I guess what I want to say, far more simplified than I initially intended on saying it, is that I'm sorry." Rachel continued on after pausing for a moment, trying her best to ignore the anxiety begging to be acknowledged. "Sorry Derek almost got you killed, especially the most recent, that I probably could have prevented if I'd booked my damn flight two days sooner. Sorry I tried to be your friend 7 years ago at that stupid basketball practice, I shouldn't have been there to begin with. Sorry I left before we got the chance to talk about anything, and lastly, sorry I stayed gone for an additional three months. Did I miss anything?"

Isaac was about to answer, but hesitated as he realized what she'd said in the midst of the various sorries. "You remember?"

"Yeah. I feel like an idiot now, because I should have realized a long time ago." She sighed, leaning against the doorframe tiredly. "Jackson's mom sent him a photo album & of course, I went through it trying to find an ugly school photo. Instead, I found a photo from his tenth birthday."

"That was the worst party I've ever been to." The teen wolf chuckled, vaguely recalling the day. It'd consisted of nothing but Jackson opening expensive gifts & proceeding to brag about every last one. "His mom wouldn't stop taking pictures."

Rachel ignored the way the subject was slowly beginning to shift. "You knew it was me from the minute you saw me, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"You ass! Why didn't you say something?"

"Hi, I'm Isaac, we met seven years ago at a basketball practice & up until now, I thought you were dead. Let's be best friends forever!" His voice was high pitched, mocking, and quite possibly one of the most annoying things on the face of the earth. "Look, I was going to say something, but it was your first day & you were already in with Lydia's clique. Then, the next day, you were with Stiles & Scott. You were a somebody & I was a nobody, there was no point in trying."

"There's always a point in trying." Rachel disagreed. "You could've asked me for study notes. Or to the winter formal."

"I didn't have any of the same classes as you, and I thought you were dating Stiles."

"God, no. Absolutely not." She quickly shook her head, the idea now seeming outrageous. Even if at the time, she may or may not have liked the aforementioned teen as slightly more than a friend, all of that was most definitely nonexistent now. "I mean, I sorta thought he was cute at the time, but now that I know him, he's like the annoying little human brother I never wanted but am strangely glad I have. The closest thing to dating that ever happened was awkward middle school dancing at the formal & me going to his house to threaten his life when he was trying to get myself & Derek arrested. Again. Did I ever tell you about the time Scott & Stiles dug up my sister's grave & got me arrested? Not just "holding on suspicion of murder" type of arrested like you, I mean actual arrested for homicide until those clueless morons at the police station realized it was an "animal attack" and we weren't animals."

"Well technically.." Isaac began, but trailed off as the brunette's gaze turned into a death glare.

"Do you really want to go there, wolf boy?" Rachel questioned, raising a brow. Did he somehow manage to forget the fact that he's just as much a werewolf as her, if not more? Her supernatural status changed faster than the weather; one day she was a werewolf, the next she was human & then she was whatever the hell else she chose to become after that. But Isaac was always going to be a werewolf, regardless of whether or not he wanted to be. "Because I'll have you know, I'm not even 1% wolf right now. I'm not exactly human either, but that's beside the point."

"What are you?"

"I'm me."

"You as in, you?" He questioned, confused by what he'd just asked. He still didn't fully understand her abilities, nor did anyone, not even her. "How is that possible?"

"You tell me." Rachel laughed softly, staring down at the stone floor. "It happens when I look into my reflection's eyes. There's no power there to mimic, so I end up as this; quite possibly the strangest supernatural creature you'll ever meet."

"You look normal." Isaac commented, unable to see what she was referring to. Excluding the way her greyish eyes were a bit too light, she looked the same as she always did. Perfect.

"Looks can be deceiving." She mumbled, reaching for the set of keys in her pocket. She picked out the silver house key, taking the sharp edge & pressing it hard in the palm of her left hand, not easing off until a silver substance began to appear. With her uninjured hand, she wiped the key on her shorts & returned it to its place in her pocket.

"Is that—"

"Blood? Mhm." Rachel hummed, staring down at the small pool of silver in her hand. "Whenever I'm me, it's like a liquified mirror. Then when I'm someone else, it's back to red. I suppose if someone I chose to reflect had purple blood, I would as well. The first time I noticed it was when I was 12, I stepped on a piece of broken glass & bled silver— 5 years later, still no explanation. Not even from the Argents' supernatural dictionary."

"I thought that had every creature?"

"Every creature that they've encountered."

"Isn't that a good thing, then? They've never hunted something like you." Isaac suggested, looking at the bright side of it. Rachel, however, did not— she was more than convinced if someone else like her did exist & the Argents had encountered it, they wouldn't have known the difference between it & an ordinary werewolf. "What if you're like one of those comic book superheroes? Maybe you're immortal."

"That's the furthest thing from comforting that I've heard all night." Rachel huffed, deeply hating the thought of living forever— she was already able to slow her aging process as a werewolf & that was more than enough. The idea of being immortal seemed almost like a horrible movie idea; someone staying the same forever, having to suffer & watch as everyone they loved & cared about died, while they remained the same. "I don't even care anymore, honestly. I'm okay not knowing what I am, as long as I can use it to help stop people from getting hurt. Keep that in mind next time you decide to help Derek hunt down the alphas— who, let me remind you, are alphas. What were you even thinking?"

"I was thinking about Erica & Boyd, and how they're going to be dead soon if they aren't already." He stated, trying to justify the choices he'd made, but it wasn't much use. "Derek said not to tell you, okay? Because you'd want to help & he didn't want you getting hurt."

"I'd rather get hurt than you get killed." Rachel argued. Derek was being careless just as he had been in the fight with Gerard, and if it weren't for Scott having a back-up plan, his carelessness would've cost him his life. "Did Derek also say that letting Peter dig through your memories was a good idea? Because if that was an independent choice, you must have a death wish. Don't trust him."

"How did you know about that?"

"There was blood in the back of your neck, I saw it when I walked past you." She explained, continuing on with where she'd left off. "He did it to me awhile back, only, it wasn't to dig through my memories, it was to show me the fire that I spent 7 years trying to forget. He's not the same person, he never will be & I want him dead the minute he's no longer useful."

"You'd really kill him?" Isaac asked, not sure if he entirely believed her despite her heart rate remaining steady. Rachel made a lot of threats & almost always backed them up, but actually going through with killing someone, that was something entirely different. She didn't seem like the type to kill.

"Yes." Rachel answered, without so much as rethinking it. She loved her family more than anything & she always would, but that monster was not her family. Not anymore. If time taught her anything, it was that people are incapable of ever truly changing— they can masquerade as something else for as long as they like, but what was once there will always remain. Peter killed Laura for power, and the day he grows tired of being a beta, he'll do the same to Derek. If Rachel stood by & allowed that to happen, knowing what her uncle was once & still is capable of, she'd deserve every bit of pain it caused her.

Noticing how dead (no pun intended) silent the room had become, the brunette tried to seem as though she were thinking of more to say on the matter; when in reality, she was going over everything she'd discussed so far. From what she could tell, everything she didn't say before leaving for London had been said— except.. anything regarding certain things that happened on the full moon. Certain things she really did not want to talk about, but at the same time, really wanted to talk about.

"So.." She trailed off awkwardly, now feeling her anxiety rushing back. "I think that about covers everything we never got the chance to talk about, I'm sorry it took until now."

"Yeah, uh, I guess it does— did you know it's 2:30am already? I could've sworn it was only a few minutes."

"Oh shit, it is? I have school tomorrow." Rachel muttered, pretending to sound concerned when in reality, she didn't give two shits about school. Unless Isaac was going to be there. Then she cared a little. "I should probably sleep. My math teacher says if I'm going to understand algebra, I need to be conscious."

"That's probably a good idea, I should go study." He stated, not yet tired after having spent the early half of the day sedated. That, and the possibility of nightmares after a somewhat traumatizing near-death experience were enough to keep anyone awake until dawn.

"We're good, though, right?" She questioned. She only wanted to know if all was okay, now that things had finally been clarified; but her stupid brain continued making her talk. "Friends?"

"Yeah, we're good." Isaac agreed, forcing a smile. "Friends."

As soon as he turned back to the hall, the door was closed & Rachel was already hating herself. Why? Why didn't you just shut up & smile? Everything ends better when you shut up & smile. She hit the switch on the wall, reducing the room's brightness to the faint glow of moonlight from the window. She walked over & flopped onto her bed, doing a face plant into a pile of pillows & only moving when the need for air outweighed the desire to be in complete darkness & think about why the idea of being friends bothered her so much. It was supposed to be a good thing— everything was alright, nothing had to be awkward or weird & she didn't have to be a stupid nervous teenager.

The only downside was that she was still very much a stupid nervous teenager, and everything was probably (definitely) still going to be awkward. As much as she wanted to believe the infamous "if you ignore it, it will go away" quote applied to situations like this, unfortunately for her, it didn't— nor did it seem to apply to certain people anymore, either. Ignoring things (and people) only made finally confronting them a whole lot worse (nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing & pretty much impossible).

Rachel wanted things to be back to normal— she wanted to be back to normal; an overconfident, slightly bitchy, self-proclaimed queen. It was easy to be that way with strangers, even with her best friends, everyone except him & it was driving her half insane. Yes, she thought he was cute— she also thought Stiles was cute last year, and that didn't make her a nervous wreck. Something about it this time, something was different she she wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Another thing she wasn't sure of was whether or not she'd imagined the faint knock on the door that briefly caught her attention as she fought with the pile of blankets on her bed, trying & failing to find a way to be comfortable without being covered by too many blankets at once. She was too tired to care. It was considerably warm, but since she was still wearing the shorts & tank top she'd worn to Heather's party, it wasn't that warm; and seeing as how she had a habit of becoming borderline hypothermic whenever she was anything other than a werewolf, if she left the blanket off for more than two minutes, she would be cold. It was a problem that could easily be solved if she got her lazy ass off the bed & switched her shorts for the yoga pants she always wore to bed, (because actual pyjamas were so overrated) but that required effort.

The energy for that effort had died the minute she hit the bed.

Unsurprisingly, she went from exhausted to wide awake the second she heard the knocking again, confirming that it was most definitely real. Rachel could feel her heart rate elevating, each beat coming sooner than the last. Kill me. She knew it was Isaac at the door; even without superhuman senses, she would've heard the loft door open if anyone else had returned. Question was, what the hell did he want? It was now 2:51am according to the blindingly bright screen of her phone & she should've been asleep— she was going to ignore him & pretend to be asleep, until the obvious realization that he was a werewolf & could hear not only her stupidly loud heart, but the way she was breathing far faster than an unconscious person would. He could also sense the anxiety.

Don't have a fucking heart attack. Answer the damn door, he's probably just going to ask you to get missed school work tomorrow. Or he'll ask why you're still nervous. Then you'll have to lie. You're a terrible liar. The way her mind was racing, Rachel almost missed the screaming— it was steady & constant, something she could easily learn to block out. But this was far from that, the annoying intrusive thoughts trying to convince her otherwise the millisecond she'd made a choice. If this was how people with anxiety disorder felt every day of their lives, she now had a newfound respect for every last one of them because just one hour of it was driving her insane.

Still, Rachel found herself moving towards the door at a decent pace. She didn't exactly want to— she mostly wanted to hide under her blanket & pretend to be asleep, maybe yell "go away" in the most drunk tone she could manage at the closed door to make it seem more real— but she didn't not want to. Behind the nervousness, there was curiosity. She wanted to know why he was there, and that outweighed any "what if" the anxiety could conjure in her mind.

Rachel opened the door slowly, acting calm as if she'd been trying to sleep, even though it was obvious she hadn't been. Her eyes narrowed into slits as soon as the bright light from the hallway hit her face, practically blinding her after she'd gotten used to the darkness. It took no more than ten seconds for her vision to clear of bright spots, allowing her to see clearly once more.

Isaac looked almost worried standing in what now appeared to be a dimly lit hallway; it'd only seemed bright at first. Rachel couldn't tell what he was thinking just by looking slightly past, and for the thousandth time tonight, she hated being unable to sense emotions. "Hey."

"Uh, hi." Rachel mumbled back, her voice so low it cracked. She wanted to look at him— actually look at him & try to better understand whatever it was that was on his mind, but she knew if she did, not only would her stupid abilities kick in, but she'd likely end up back to the nervous stuttering idiot she'd been when she first arrived. Being nervous was bad enough, but being a stupid stuttering idiot on top of that, simply because she was in the presence of someone she may or may not have found extremely attractive was just plain annoying.

She waited in silence for him to say more than just hey, but as a minute passed, she realized he wasn't going to. Something about the look she could see from the corner of her eye, he looked like he was thinking about something— she wondered momentarily if it was the same thing she was thinking of. Did Isaac find her attractive? Rachel liked to think she was pretty hot, but that didn't mean he did too.

"Rae?" He muttered, regaining her attention in an instant.

"Hm?" She hummed in response, her mind drifting to the nickname he used. Though she'd normally tell him not to call her that, right now, she liked the way it sounded— and the memory it was associated with. The last time she could recall him calling her that was right after he kissed her. Oh.

This time was completely different from the last. Before, everything seemed to move in slow motion, whilst now it was exactly the opposite; there was no hesitation when the distance between them disappeared. One thing that didn't change was the way her heart hammered in her chest just as it had before, it's speed practically doubling as soon as she felt his lips against hers.

Rachel wasn't nervous anymore & to her surprise, her mind wasn't racing; all she could focus on was everything happening in the moment. Her arms curled around the base of his neck, whilst his hands found their way to her waist, resting just below the hem of her shirt. She loved the way it felt, standing there, kissing Isaac— it was like a scene from one of those stupid cliché high school movies she used to watch every Friday night, the ones that always ended happily with an annoying pop song playing as it faded to credits. It was so perfect that it took her a minute to fully comprehend that this wasn't a horribly cliché movie— this was actually her life, and for the first time in a long time, she was extremely happy with it.

Another moment passed & she reluctantly pulled away, thankful the dark shadows from her room shaded her face because she was pretty sure she was smiling & blushing like an idiot despite trying (and failing) not to. "We, uh— we probably shouldn't do that if we're gonna be friends."

"Yeah, probably not." Isaac breathed, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"But if you wanted to do it again sometime, I wouldn't stop you." Rachel admitted, thankful as hell that she'd actually managed to say what she wanted to say without totally screwing it up. What she meant was "I really hope this happens again because I really like you & you're hot" but what had been said was close enough. Definitely close enough.  "I— uh, should probably actually sleep. I have to be up in 4 hours."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I, um, I forgot about that." He apologized, taking a step back out the door into the light of the hall.

"It's fine, really— I'd probably still be awake, I hate the cold." You'd be a lot less cold if you asked the literally & figuratively hot werewolf to stay with you. She shrugged, brushing off the thought that crossed her mind afterwards. No. Absolutely not— especially not when her idiot brother could come back from whatever the hell he was at any given moment. "Anyways, uh, night."

"Night, Rae." Isaac replied, hesitantly turning & walking a few steps down the hall before disappearing into a room Rachel assumed was his.

She closed the door quietly, latched the door chain & let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding in before trudging over to her bed & falling on it. She didn't bother to change & instead piled on the blankets, not caring if it got too hot over time. Hell, she didn't even care if she was cold anymore— she was still too caught up in the fact at what just happened had actually happened.

It was safe to say sleep had officially become mission impossible.

—

UNEDITED. jEEZUS

8.7k words. is this the longest chapter i've ever written? you betcha. it is now 4:45am & i have to be up in 3 hours but hey, at least i updated? can i get a round of applause? maybe a few comments? (ngl still a little bummed the last chapter only got like 3 comments, i love reading what you guys think!)

the last 500 words took me a goddamn week bc it literally could have gone about 5 different ways & i couldn't decide. i hated 2 of them. i tried the others but they weren't going right so i eventually settled on this. i actually quite like it, even if i'm not 100% proud of how it's written. i hope it's not too cringeworthy. i should sleep, but we all know i'm going to go on instagram & stalk the destiel tag.

i'm trash, no ragrets, not even a single letter :*