Jackson is dead.

Jackson is dead.

No matter how hard she tried, Rachel couldn't even begin to comprehend the outrageously blunt statement. It was as though, everytime she so much as attempted, a switch in her brain flicked & all thought processing was suddenly blocked by a solid wall of complete & utter darkness. Emptiness. Which, ironically, was all she was capable of feeling since she'd seen the lacrosse player lying dead on the field with the self-inflicted claw wounds that'd ended his life. Emptiness & a small voice playing on repeat "it's all your fault."

Logically, she knew it wasn't. Rachel could have never predicted that one action could have such a domino effect causing so much death & disaster. Not even her wildest nightmares could have foretold it; but that didn't stop her from believing that she was the cause, and if her actions could be undone, the present day would drastically change. Jackson would (probably) be alive. Matt would be alive (and likely still dealing with many, many psychotic thoughts & mental disorders, but alive was better than dead). Everyone he made Jackson kill would still be alive. Gerard wouldn't be winning. Rachel would still be the shameless, overconfident metaphorical queen she intended on being at the start of it all.

She had no way of knowing if any of those would've still happened had she not turned Jackson— but she couldn't help assuming. Forget being the Alison DiLaurentis of Beacon Hills, Rachel was starting to feel more like post-mental-breakdown Spencer Hastings. Everything was spiralling out of control, her world was crashing down around her & there was nothing she could do to stop it. Absolutely nothing. The brunette had spent hours searching her guilt wracked brain for even the slightest way to repair something— anything, but she hadn't a single clue. All she had left to do was sort through the wreckage around her to see what remained, and then protect it as best as she could through the fallout.

That was the worst part; everything that had happened so far wasn't even close to the ending. This was the build up, the action packed final thirty minutes of every thriller flick ever produced, the steep uphill road leading straight to the cliff everyone was metaphorically going to plummet off of in the end. The movie - or in this case, the miniature war - still had at least twenty minutes left in it (hours, days even). The end was surely nearing, but if they even wanted to see what it had to offer, they had to survive until then.

If Jackson was dead, it wasn't because he killed himself. Jackson Whittemore, even aware of how much of a danger he is to every living thing in Beacon Hills, would not kill himself. He wouldn't even lock himself in a basement. If Jackson was really as dead as he looked, it was because Gerard forced him to kill himself. If Rachel, a girl who'd spent virtually her entire life learning how to avoid being killed by hunters, knew anything about a man like Gerard Argent, it was that he wouldn't surrender a weapon as powerful as Jackson right before the fallout. In a time like this, one where a climatic event had just gone down & everyone was in the midst of registering it within their minds, someone like Gerard would be reloading his guns. Recharging the stun guns, sharpening the knives— he'd be doing everything possible to ensure no matter how many people the other side had, he'd win without taking so much as a scratch.

Rachel had a base idea of what he could be doing; but she wasn't sure. She could vaguely recall the sketched image of a Kanima next to various paragraphs within one of her family's old books, but the words were too blurry for her to recall exactly what they'd said. Rachel wasn't entirely sure she'd ever been exactly sure of what they said— she couldn't have been older than seven when she'd been flipping through the books her mother normally kept out of reach. She had been gone visiting a friend & left Peter & Derek to babysit; both of whom cared little to none about what Rachel managed to dig out of the bookshelf whilst they watched a basketball game on television in preparation for one of Derek's upcoming games.

The book, unfortunately for her, had contained far too many big words for her almost seven year old mind to comprehend properly, and she'd mainly focused on the illustrations to pass the time. She spent a fair amount of time on the Kanima page, due to it's details; she was supposedly capable of transforming into an actual wolf like her mother & she still couldn't wrap her little head around the fact that somewhere, someone had turned into a human sized lizard with a tail. Rachel reluctantly had to admit, back then, she'd been moderately jealous of the tail. Now, knowing it was capable of sending people flying across the room or slashing a throat.. She still kind of wanted one, but she no longer admired the creature's appearance. The illustration had made it look far better than Jackson.

Regardless of the Kanima's appearance, Rachel could remember a few words— paralysis, humanoid, evolution— specifically because she had constantly run from the bookshelf to the couch to ask Derek what each one meant. It was the last one that stuck in her mind like glue, though, because while the other twos relevance she understood, she had yet to realize how evolution fit into the puzzle so far. It could've just been her horrid memory recalling the wrong word from the wrong timeframe, but it was a lead & the only one she had and damn right she was going to go with it.

She had to find Derek, and she had to get whatever he had left from the house— or she at least had to hit him with a table a few times & figure out what he remembered about the day. She swore she remembered forcing him to read her the Kanima page during a commercial (or else she wouldn't stop screaming when the game came back on). Even if he wasn't paying attention to a single thing, he had to know something. If he knew what the Kanima was simply by seeing if fear it's own reflection, he had to know something else. Anything.

But before Rachel could even think of finding Derek, it hit her once more that she was completely disregarding something — someone — who mattered a hell of a lot more to her than Jackson, even if he was her responsibility. Stiles. He'd gone missing in the midst of the chaos, as had Gerard, and Rachel knew for a fact that a coincidence like that simply wasn't possible in their current situation. Stiles Stilinski did not run— especially not when the lives of his friends were at stake. He stayed in the centre of the chaos & he fought; even if most considered him to be Robin, he fought like he was Batman & he didn't just run away when it got serious. Gerard took him, and if that old rat so much as hit him with a freaking feather, Rachel was going to make damn sure Gerard spent the night drowning in his own blood.

"Is that everyone?" Scott's voice called across the locker room, bring Rachel's attention back to her surroundings. She was in the locker room— though, she wasn't entirely sure she recalled walking there. The reflector was so out of it, standing there like a statue, she wondered for a moment how the first few steps she'd taken hadn't been into the bleachers or a light post, until she realized how she'd actually managed to navigate her way to the locker room.

Someone was holding her hand. Someone had taken the time to intertwine their fingers & gently guide her along with them so she wouldn't be forced out of her little trance just yet; but also so she wouldn't be left behind in amongst the chaos. Someone had cared enough about her, despite everything she'd caused, even if they were unaware of it. She already had a relatively decent idea of who it'd been, so it came as no surprise when she looked up to see Isaac, a skyscraper compared to her as always.

"I think so." The aforementioned teen wolf responded to Scott's question, looking over his shoulder to be sure. Rachel merely focused her hearing to detect whether or not there were more than three heartbeats ticking within the room; which there were not.

Scott took that as close enough to a "yes" to proceed with his plan; which apparently, had been to rip the door off Stiles' locker. He tossed the piece if metal to the floor, turning back around & digging through the various lacrosse items to find whatever he thought would have the strongest scent. It was hard to smell anything in the entire room over the reeking stench of axe spray & tears, (mainly Greenberg, but also a few freshman who couldn't handle Coach's "constructive criticism") but Rachel didn't believe she needed to smell something. She knew Stiles' scent the same way she knew all the werewolves' in her brother's pack. He may have been human, but he was as much a part of the pack as Scott (rather unwillingly) was.

"You're going to find him by scent?" Isaac asked, watching as Scott pulled a few things from the locker.

"We all are." Scott responded, tossing a shoe in his direction & holding out a t-shirt for Rachel.

"I don't need it." She responded quietly, shaking her head. "I know his scent. Anxiety, mostly, with a bit of antifreeze, fabric softener & sweat." She received odd looks in response, especially from Scott, & chose to clarify further. "I know yours & yours, too. Yours is mainly Allison's perfume & his is a mix of gasoline, rust & cheap cologne. I could go more into detail, but you probably don't want me to."

"We're good." The two spoke at almost the same time, both glad that the brunette was finally willing to speak, but less than fond of what she was speaking of. A better, more important topic was very clear— but unfortunately never returned to as a greater interest made itself known.

"Oh hell no." Rachel mumbled, a split second before her brother walked around the corner; the same emotionless expression on his face. She wanted to punch him. Not for looking like a statue every second of every day, she wanted to punch him because there were now five heart beats within the room when she was damn sure there was only supposed to be four. He brought someone with him, and as much as she hoped it was Stiles, she knew it wasn't.

"We need to talk." Derek stated firmly, making it clear there was no negotiations. Whatever it was that he had to say— they were going to hear it. They weren't going to like it whatsoever, but they were going to listen; or it wasn't going to end well. Especially not when the fifth heart beat finally made itself known as Peter Hale, who was supposed to be rotting six feet underground.

"All of us."

Rachel wanted nothing more than to believe it was just her imagination. She was out of it— really out of it; but she couldn't deny that what she had just heard was her psychotic, formerly dead uncle's voice, and he was indeed very real. Some how, some way, he'd managed to cheat his way out of death. Even when Rachel had watched Derek bury him beneath their house, the bastard had still found a way to claw his way out of hell & resurrect.

"Anyone want to tell me what I'm seeing right now isn't real?" Rachel questioned, already knowing no one would do so. It was real– far too real, and it was safe to say they were all probably going to die tonight.

"I thought the same thing when I saw Scott talking to Gerard at the sheriff's station." Derek responded.

"What?" The brunette snapped, now shifting her death glare to Scott. He never told her he'd spoken to Gerard at any point other than the game, which she'd been there to witness. It wasn't like he was required to tell her, or she'd asked & he lied, but it was certainly something she would've preferred knowing beforehand. Gerard was a psychopath trying to kill them all— Scott was going to need a damn good reason to stop for tea & crumpets with the bastard in the middle of a freaking war.

"Okay, hold on. He– he threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him." Scott countered, seeming appalled by the fact that two of the three Hales in the room still appeared to be furious with him. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm gonna go with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous." Peter added, completely unnecessarily. Every word he spoke only made Rachel want to light him on fire.

"Shut up!" Derek & Scott snapped in unison. Rachel was too busy plotting her uncle's murder to say it with them; it was clear he had no real usage & was simply here to assist until Gerard was disarmed, then he'd more than likely kill Derek.

"Who is he?" Isaac questioned, understandably confused by the conversation going on. Apparently no one had found it necessary to inform him of what had happened before he became a werewolf, even though it was those events that had initially sparked the war with Gerard.

"That's Peter, Rachel & Derek's uncle." Scott answered. "Little while back, he tried to kill us all and then we set him on fire & Derek slashed his throat."

"You forgot the part where he did kill my older sister & tried to make you his bitch, but that about sums it up." The reflector snapped, glaring daggers at the man she was ashamed to be related to. Peter, to be specific— at this point in time, the aforementioned statement could be referring to either. Her uncle was dead to her, and while Derek wasn't quite there yet, he'd made a deal with the devil by going to Peter for help, which meant his days were numbered. It was blatantly obvious that Peter was only helping them now when they desperately needed it to gain a shred of trust; then, when they least expected it, he'd resume Jackson's previous job of killing everyone in the damn town, starting with Derek.

"Hi." Peter waved.

"That's good to know." Isaac nodded wearily, now understanding the others' concern.

After about a minute of painfully awkward silence, Scott finally asked the question everyone was dying (no pun intended) to know. "How is he alive?"

"Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson." Derek answered, avoiding the question entirely. Rachel had already automatically assumed some type of ritual was involved, especially being that he'd healed entirely & was still an asshole; she didn't currently care too much, but after Gerard was thrown back in the nursing home (for psychopaths) where he belonged, Rachel would more than likely focus in finding a way to reverse it & kill him again. "And maybe how to save him."

It was the last part that really got Rachel's attention. Even though saving Jackson at this point was even less likely than her marrying Ezra Fitz, she still wanted to know if it was in fact possible. No harm could come from hearing what he had to say— like Morrell told her, it was the unspoken words that did harm. If it so happened that he was lying about everything, she could just as easily kill him again. They were equals now, if even that; Peter was an omega now & Rachel could be an alpha whenever she wanted. She didn't have to be afraid of him.

"Well, that's very helpful, except Jackson's dead." Isaac deadpanned.

"What?" Derek asked, seeming genuinely alarmed (and angered) by the news in more ways than one. He didn't sound like he was saddened by the loss; but he did appear to be concerned more so of why Jackson was dead, rather than how.

"Yeah, Jackson's dead." Scott confirmed. "It just happened on the field."

Peter groaned in annoyance, as if the news of Jackson being dead now meant he had to do more than just stand around & look like a cliché cartoon villain plotting everyones demise. Derek, on the other hand, only seemed to look angrier (as if that was possible) after Scott's confirmation; which led Rachel to believe that her initial theory was indeed correct. Jackson dying was a part of Gerard's plan, and everything was still unfortunately going exactly the way he wanted it to.

"Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?"

"Because if Jackson's dead, it didn't just happen." Peter began to explain what Rachel already knew, leading her to finish before he had the chance.

"Gerard wanted it to happen." The reflector interrupted. She didn't need to hear things she already figured out on her own; she wanted to know how the hell she was supposed to clean up the mess she made, not something anyone aware of the situation could put together in minutes. Gerard wanted Jackson dead. It might take Scott, Isaac & Derek a freaking millennium to comprehend that, but it took her all of five seconds; and now she was ready to move on from that & get to the why.

"Bingo." The former alpha half-smiled, whilst Rachel growled in response.

"But why?"

"Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out." The former alpha responded, taking a step forward. "And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly."

Great.

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

Twenty minutes later found the five of them at the charred remains of the Hale house, for a reason Rachel still did not understand. According to Peter, there was something there that could help; but she had trouble believing that, seeing as how she'd lived in that house until Derek killed Peter in the front yard, and there was nothing she didn't know about. Every hiding spot; even the room beneath the living room floor where they'd buried the burned corpse— if it was in the floor plan of the house, Rachel had probably hidden there in a game of hide & seek with her sister years ago. If Peter was somehow hiding some type of evil lair filled with knowledge on kanimas, it wasn't in the their old home.

Regardless, she didn't protest. She was too tired to argue— her brain was on overdrive & she'd more than likely lose her mind if she had to fight with Derek in the midst of everything going on. There was still no word from the Sheriff about Stiles, nor had Scott's mom called with an update on whether or not Jackson was still as dead as he was an hour ago, and to top it all off; Peter was still breathing. No matter how unlikely, Rachel couldn't help but hold onto the tiny bit of hope that whatever had brought him back would eventually kill him again & it was exhausting.

Spencer Hastings was right— hope most definitely breeds eternal misery.

It also unfortunately came accompanied with intense nervousness, all of which was amplified by the fifty other things she was already worried about. Rachel was fairly certain if she was anything close to human, she would've died via heart attack by now, and she was positive everyone knew. The entire drive there, both Scott & Isaac had continuously asked if she was okay; to which she would always respond with "I'm alive, that's all that matters right now."

She wasn't okay. She couldn't be— and both of them knew it, but neither seemed to hellbent on finding out exactly why. It should've concerned her, being that Scott was usually the type to pry, but with all that was going on, she didn't care about much aside from the fact that there may still be a way to help Jackson, and the police were doing everything they could to find Stiles. Rachel could tell Scott was worried about him, even though he tried to hide it; Stiles was practically his brother & the thought of him being somewhere with Gerard wasn't one he wanted to consider, despite how much it seemed to be the most likely.

The thought of him being dead was even worse— Rachel couldn't lie, it had crossed her mind; but Gerard had already killed Jackson. If he did have Stiles, killing him would do nothing but anger a whole lot of people & further motivate them to kill him slowly & painfully. Plus, Stiles was human; Gerard was a werewolf hunter. Code or no code, the Argents (excluding Kate) don't kill humans; that would downgrade them from hunters to straight up murderers (which Rachel already considered most of them to be regardless of what species they chose to slaughter).

Rachel soon found herself zoning out of her mind & back onto her surroundings as they followed Peter into the old house. The floorboards creaked loudly, a few moving whenever too much weight was put on them. The floor had yet to cave in anywhere, but some places were evidently well on their way; especially from all the damage due to countless fights taking place within the structure.

"I told you, I looked everywhere." Derek broke the silence, still following Peter towards the stairs despite obviously losing hope in the older man. Rachel refused to believe he was stupid enough to ever have hope in him to begin with; there had to be more to the story. Something she didn't know, something they weren't telling her.

"You didn't look here." Peter responded, kneeling down on the bottom steps & moving the board from a step above, before reaching in & retrieving something from within the step. From a distance, it appeared to be a box.

"What is that?" Derek questioned as Peter opened it. "A book?"

The older Hale rolled his eyes. "No, it's a laptop. What century are you living in?" Derek glared in response whilst Peter turned to the rest of the group & explained further. "A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones that keep records."

"Does that mean there might still be a way to save him?" Rachel asked, trying her best to avoid any sort of hope, but it was inevitable. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that this wasn't her fault; she knew it was, and she knew Jackson's death was on her even if she hadn't been the one to kill him. How was she supposed to go on knowing she'd caused so much death & disaster? It'd drive her insane— for the most part, it was already starting to. She couldn't just go on with her daily life, Rachel couldn't even breathe without thinking of everything she'd done.

If there was a way for Peter to magically resurrect after being fried to a crisp, then there had to be some way to fix Jackson. He'd died via claw wounds; there had to be some way to get them to heal. Even if it required selling her freaking soul, it was worth it if it meant she didn't have to live out every day with the guilt weighing her down. Rachel may have been able to learn to forgive herself for what happened the day of the fire, but she'd never forgive herself for this. The fire wasn't her fault. She knew that. Her family dying wasn't her fault. She knew that. Jackson dying, however, was her fault— and she would never believe otherwise.

"Rachel?" Scott's voice snapped the brunette out of her thoughts & back to reality. "My mom called, we've gotta go to the hospital. Something's wrong with Jackson."

"Okay." She replied in a monotone voice. Did he think she wouldn't already know there's something wrong with Jackson? He's dead, that's what's wrong. "You go."

"You're staying here?" Isaac asked in disbelief. He didn't know much about Peter aside from what they'd told him an hour ago, but the idea of leaving Rachel with him & Derek wasn't the most appealing. She wasn't defenceless, nor was she stupid, but she wasn't all there. It took a maximum of two minutes of not talking to her & she was back to staring lifelessly at a wall, thinking of who the hell knows what.

"I'm not leaving Derek alone with Peter." Rachel answered bluntly. "I don't trust him."

"I'm right here." Peter spoke from behind her, fake hurt in his tone. "Don't you think if I wanted to kill him I would've done it by now?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"They found Stiles." Scott interrupted before an argument could begin, holding out his phone. On the dimly lit screen was proof, a text reading "Stiles home safe" sent less than a minute ago from the Sheriff. It'd been sent about ten minutes ago, which angered the brunette; but she wasn't about to complain— Stiles was alive & home & Scott hoped that'd be enough to get Rachel to leave Derek & Peter to do whatever it was that they planned on doing.

But it wasn't. Stiles was Stiles, and as much as Rachel cared about him, she cared more about Derek & she probably always would regardless of what he did or he choices he made. Stiles was alive & that was all she needed to know for now— until Peter was able to provide an explanation on exactly how he planned to fix Jackson, she wasn't going to leave. "Good. Now go. Text me if anything changes. I'll stop by Stiles' place later."

"You sure?" Scott asked, giving her one last chance to change her mind; but it was already made up.

"Go."

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

Awkward silence followed.

Occasionally, Peter would try to make conversation, boring small talk; but each attempt was promptly ignored by his family members. Neither of them cared about the current events going on in the media, the weather, or informing him of what had gone on with his favourite sports team while he was dead. They wanted to kill him; but neither could do so until they knew ho to save Jackson (and had successfully done so, as apparently they would be needing his help).

It took around thirty minutes for Derek to finally receive a text from Scott. Rachel was in the midst of watching Peter scroll through countless pages of documents on his laptop (and pause for a candy crush break) when the chime had sounded throughout the room, hopefully bringing good news. Unfortunately, it had turned out to be the opposite when he read it aloud. "They say he's in some kind of transparent casing made from the venom coming out of his claws."

"That sounds sufficiently terrifying." Peter remarked. For once, Rachel actually agreed with him on something.

"They also say he's starting to move."

"Okay, look, I think I found something." The oldest Hale muttered, gesturing to some print on the laptop screen. "Looks like what we've seen from Jackson is just the Kanima's beta shape."

"Meaning what? He's gonna evolve into a butterfly?" Rachel snapped, hoping she wasn't right. At this point, she wasn't sure if a Kanima sized butterfly existed; but if it did, she sure as hell did not want to see it.

"My guess would be a whole lot bigger & badder than that, dear." Peter commented, narrowing his eyes at the screen as he scrolled down a little more, revealing an illustration.

"He's turning into that?" Derek questioned, pointing at the picture. "That has wings."

"I can see that."

"It actually kind of resembles a butterfly." Rachel mumbled, tilting her head to the side to look at the creature's illustration from a straighter angle. "A scaly butterfly on steroids."

"Oh look, somebody actually made an animation of it. Maybe it's less frightening if we—" his words abruptly stopped as he clicked the animation, triggering a loud screeching noise & an even more horrifying moving image of the winged Kanima flying at the screen.

"Not a butterfly. Not at all. Butterflies don't do that." The reflector spoke, taking a step back from the screen incase Peter decided to click it again. Some things could not be unseen, and as hard as she was going to try to forget the Kanima animation, something told her she'd be seeing it again very soon in 3D if they didn't find a way to stop it.

"We need to go. Now." Derek stated firmly, turning to leave the house but hesitated as no one followed.

"Derek, we need Lydia."

"There's no time for—"

"Wait, what?" Rachel chimed in, now confused. Sure, Lydia was a little off lately after Peter bit her; but her newfound weirdness couldn't possibly by the key to saving Jackson. "Why do we need Lydia?"

"Because, long story short, he loves her & she's the only one who can remind him who he is beneath the Kanima skin." Peter explained the quick version of everything he'd informed Derek of the previous day.

"What is this, a scrapped Disney movie that never made it to the big screen?" She scoffed. "He died, but he's not actually dead, he's just evolving, and Lydia can somehow talk to him & it'll all be better?"

"That's what we're counting on." The former alpha shrugged, turning back to Derek.

"That's what you're counting on." Derek snapped. "Me? If I get the chance to kill Jackson, I'm taking it."

"No." Rachel protested. Jackson already died once— who even knew what trying to kill him again would do? "The Kanima might be tearing people to shreds left & right but that's Gerard. Jackson hasn't killed anyone by choice. He's being forced to do all of this against his will & he doesn't even know half of what he's already done. None of this is his fault, and I'm not gonna let you kill him for it. He's innocent."

"So are you, and you're the one who caused all of this." The alpha spat bitterly, finally admitting what he'd known all along. "We need to go. Now."

Rachel could've sworn her heart momentarily stopped at the revelation; but she quickly deemed it to be a pigment of her imagination as deep down, she had seen this coming for a very long time. Keeping a secret from Derek was the equivalent of keeping a secret from Stiles— completely & utterly impossible. As much as it may seem to go flawlessly, they'll find out sooner or later. Unfortunately for her, Derek found out sooner rather than the extremely later that she'd been hoping for.

Derek knew what she did. He knew she was the one that turned Jackson & knocked over the first domino in the long chain of horrific murders, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to talk her way out of it. Rachel knew just by the look in his eyes; the same one that'd been there for nearly a month. It was the reason he'd been so angry with her all along & she'd been too blind to realize it. This wasn't a new discovery. Derek had known for a damn long time & he chose not to confront her, more than likely because he was waiting for her to ask for help in fixing the mess she'd caused, but she never did.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Peter began, clearly meaning to do precisely what he had said he did not. "But perhaps we could work out our differences on the way to get Lydia?"

"There's no time for—

"That's the problem. We're rushing. You two are fighting, as per the norm, and we're not stopping to think about what we're doing. We're moving too fast." The older man explained, only seeming to anger Derek more (as if that was possible at this point). "And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard's crosshairs."

"If I get the chance to kill Jackson, I'm taking it." Derek repeated what he'd said moments ago before turning & walking out the front door.

Reluctantly, Rachel turned to her uncle, who remained standing beside her in the burned structure. "I still don't trust you."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." Peter smiled in response.

"If we need Lydia for this to work, I'll go find her." The reflector stated hesitantly, before continuing on with terms & conditions. "But I promise you, if Derek, Scott or anyone else in his pack dies— whether it be by Gerard or you — I will kill you & that old bag of bones as slowly & painfully as possible."

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

It didn't take Rachel long to find Lydia.

After threatening Peter & making sure she was well understood, she'd gone straight to Lydia's house— where she had found a very clueless & concerned Natalie Martin, who was wondering why the hell a former fugitive was looking for her daughter at midnight, but no Lydia. That had prompted her to leave (quickly, preferably before the police were called to arrest her for trespassing; though she failed to see how knocking on someone's door & proceeding to creep around their house to look in the window was trespassing) & head over to Stiles' house, where she'd hopefully find Stiles (with his Lydia expertise, who hopefully could tell her where she'd be).

To avoid another horribly awkward confrontation with someone that greatly disliked her, Rachel chose to use the Derek way of getting into Stiles' room; the window. It was one of the many times Rachel was happy to be small, scaling the side of a building wasn't particularly easy if you weren't capable of holding yourself up by the edge of a roof for an extended period of time as you waited until the coast was clear— but she managed to make it up on her first attempt. Had she failed & landed in the rose bush alongside the house, she more than likely would have been spending the night removing thorns rather than finding Lydia.

Nonetheless, the brunette climbed up onto the roof & slowly eased over to the window's edge, where she cautiously peered in the corner to ensure she wouldn't be interrupting anything. To her delight, she'd looked in at the exact moment Sheriff Stilinski was leaving the room; and Stiles was left pacing nervously in his absence, more than likely aware of everything that was going on with Jackson, courtesy of Scott. Rachel waited a few seconds more until she heard the stairs creaking within the house, a clear indication that she Sheriff wouldn't be returning for at least a few minutes, & then knocked on the glass. She didn't wait for Stiles to open the window— knocking was enough to tell him she was coming in, whether he wanted her to or not, and being that it was unlocked, she lifted it with ease & climbed inside out of the cool fall air.

"Hey—" she began, but stopped short once she got a good look at his face. For an old hag, Gerard sure had done damage in the time since he'd taken Stiles— the teen had a dark bruise on his cheek & a split lip, both of which looked to be quite bothersome. Rachel had grown accustomed to having similar injuries, even worse, but only for a few hours & they were merely a mild annoyance. Unfortunately for Stiles, they'd last days & hurt like hell, even if he was too preoccupied to notice or care at the moment.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Stiles protested before the reflector had a chance to speak, but she clearly knew otherwise.

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat & sense your pain, I'd still know you're lying."

"I don't have time to dwell on it, Lydia's going to find Jackson & we have to stop her before she gets killed." Stiles muttered, fumbling around for the keys to his jeep. He soon found them in the bottom of his pocket & headed for the door, but was stopped by Rachel catching his wrist as he reached for the doorknob.

"Okay, slow down." She said, pausing for a moment to focus & think of how to properly explain the situation. "Long story short, we need Lydia to save Jackson. Peter thinks she can remind him who he really is underneath the Kanima. Don't ask me to explain it— I really don't understand it, but it's all we've got."

"You're trusting Peter?" Stiles gaped at her in disbelief. "Hold up— Peter as in Peter Hale? The guy we burned & Derek slashed his throat."

"Unfortunately. But he has a plan—"

"You're saying Peter has somehow risen from the dead with a plan to save Jackson & we're all just going with it?"

Rachel hesitated for a moment, pondering over what Stiles had bluntly stated before realizing how painfully true it was. "That about sums it up, yeah."

"Great." The spastic teen huffed. If they were going to go with the plan Peter had made, then they were going to do it as cautiously as possible— if they were allowing Lydia to have a nice conversation with the homicidal lizard, it wasn't going to be without him there. Not that he could do much to help keep her safe; but it was better than sitting on the sidelines & wondering if she was okay.

"It's all we've got."

"Can we go n—" Stiles began, looking down at the reflector still holding his wrist but stopped abruptly as he saw the black veins stemming from her hand & up her wrist, disappearing beneath the sleeve of her jacket.

"You're welcome." Rachel sighed, the veins quickly fading away as soon as she let go. "It won't make the bruise go away, but at least it won't hurt anymore. Now, we can go get Lydia & hope everyone's still alive by the time we get there— wherever there is."

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

It didn't take long for them to find Lydia.

The strawberry blonde had been parked alongside the road on the way to her house, more than likely on the verge of tears (but of course, not showing it) waiting in silence, as if she knew they were coming. Rachel had been booted to the backseat by Stiles, who'd been quick to yell for Lydia to get in the jeep so they could drive to Jackson. Specifically, to the Beacon Hills Warehouse District; where Scott, Isaac & Chris Argent had taken Jackson. Rachel had replied to Scott's text in record time, multiple times, asking why the hell Chris has suddenly decided to help them rather than continue on with Gerard; but she had received no reply.

Not from him or Derek.

She'd probably spammed each of them with at least ten messages on the drive to the warehouse on the edge of town; she was beyond nervous. Derek never replied to her texts, but Scott always did if it was important— and it most certainly was. That led her to believe either something had gone horribly wrong (Chris had set them up) or something had gone regularly wrong (Peter was correct, they ended up exactly where Gerard wanted them & they were in the midst of fighting off the Kanima). Both were equally likely, but Rachel opted to go with the latter after texting Peter & receiving a response composed of only lizard emojis.

Lydia had been quiet for most of the drive, as had Stiles, the only actual conversation had been when Rachel informed them of what was happening; and when she'd yelled at Stiles for practically flooring the gas pedal. Nonetheless, it'd gotten them there in minutes— they were currently approaching the first of many warehouses.

"This is it." Rachel stated firmly, pointing straight ahead.

"How can you tell?" Stiles furrowed his brows, looking back at her questionably.

"That's Argents car." She gestured to the black SUV in the shadow of the building. "And I can smell blood. Lots of it."

"Hold on." Stiles muttered, this time fully flooring the gas pedal without another second of consideration. If he thought for even a moment more, chances are he's regret his decision & stop— but there was no time to stop.

"Open your freaking eyes!" Rachel shrieked at him as the jeep sped forward, quickly making contact with the wall of the building. Not even a millisecond after, Stiles slammed on the brakes, sending her flying back against the seat & to the floor due to her inability to ever wear a seatbelt. A loud bang emitted as the wheels screeched against the floor, a faint steam simmering from the tires whilst the three inside the jeep took a moment to breathe. Rachel pushed herself up off the floor & leaned between the two front seats, anxious to see just what Stiles had hit.

"Did I hit him?" Stiles questioned, leaning forward to get a better look over the steering wheel. His question was quickly answered as a fully transformed Kanima leapt up onto the hood of the jeep emitting an even louder bang than when Stiles had initially hit it, causing Lydia to let out a shriek (and Stiles to mimic it, possibly even in a higher pitch).

"Not hard enough." Rachel mumbled. "What are we waiting for, the damn thing to come in? Open the freaking door!"

Lydia was the first one out of the jeep, followed by Stiles & then Rachel, who'd had to climb over the seat due to the jeep's lack of back doors. Both Rachel & Stiles hurried over by Scott, a relatively safe distance from the Kanima, whilst Lydia remained by the jeep.

"Jackson!" The strawberry blonde cried out as the Kanima came closer, raising a clawed hand.

Stiles stepped forward, but Scott held him back as Lydia produced a shiny key. Rachel held her breath, hoping for Lydia's sake that whatever significance the key held would be enough to revert Jackson to human, otherwise they'd more than likely redefine the word screwed. Lydia shakily held the small key out in front of her, instantly halting the Kanima's actions & causing it to instead stare at the small piece of metal with a look of what could only be described as recognition— it knew.

Slowly, the reptilian features began to fade, leaving a half-human Jackson in their place. He remained half covered in scales & armed with claws, but the reptilian glow soon faded from his eyes as they reverted to their dull human colour. He took the key from Lydia's hand & continued to examine it, before looking back at her. He then lowered the key & took a few steps back from her, causing confusion amongst the crowd.

Why was he moving away from her? Rachel had been led to believe Lydia was the cure to his Kanima problem; and as far as she could tell, the strawberry blonde was doing precisely what they'd brought her to do. It didn't quite hit her until she saw Jackson nod at someone in the shadows; she would've missed it if she so much as blinked.

But she didn't.

She saw it— and she saw Peter run out of the shadows across the room, and Derek join him from the other side. The two went at Jackson from the front & behind, claws out & ready to kill him. Derek was the first to get him, jabbing sharp claws through Jackson's stomach whilst Peter's went through his back. Both Scott & Rachel stepped forward, but eased back as they realized there was nothing they could do; if killing Jackson had been the real plan all along, then there never really was a way to save him. Just a way to make him vulnerable enough to be killed.

Lydia raced forward as Peter & Derek removed their claws & stepped back. The strawberry blonde caught Jackson before he fell & helped him lower to the ground whilst he coughed violently. She stayed down with him, tears rolling down her cheeks as he continue coughing, evidently close to death.

"Do you— do you still—" Jackson stammered, each time being stopped by another cough.

Lydia nodded vigorously. "I do, I do still love you. I do." She cried, repeating it multiple times to ensure he knew & to make up for all the times she'd never said it.

He soon fell forward in her arms, the key clattering to the ground as Lydia cried harder. The last few scales faded from his face with a blue glow as she laid him on the ground. For the second time tonight, Lydia was left looking at the dead body of the boy she loved, and this time it only seemed to hurt her even more. Things had happened so quickly at the game; she didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. But here, he'd died in her arms & Rachel couldn't help but feel a sense of heartbreak for the strawberry blonde.

"Where's Gerard?" Allison spoke up, looking around the warehouse. Until now, Rachel hadn't even noticed her— or the pool of black on the floor beside her.

"He can't be far." Her father responded, unconcerned.

The attention turned back to Lydia as she finally stood up. She was desperately trying to hold it together, but the tears welling up in her eyes & the heavy breathing indicated that she was unable to do so completely. She was heartbroken; and no one could blame her. Rachel almost wanted to cry simply from looking at her— but the burning anger towards her brother & uncle prevented that. Jackson was dead because of her. All the pain Lydia was experiencing right now was caused by her, and she couldn't help feeling that she should be the one feeling it, not her.

Rachel bit her lip, debating whether or not she should say something— anything, or simply go & hug the girl. Never had she ever seen someone break right in front of her, not like that, but it left her with the need to make it better. It was her fault; every last bit of it was her fault, and no matter how much she tried to tell herself it wasn't, she'd never believe it. And she would never need to.

The sound of claws scraping against concrete pierced through the deafening silence like a knife & it was then that they knew for the second time tonight, Jackson Whittemore was going to defy everything they knew & rise from the dead once more. Lydia whipped her head around just in time to see him standing up, as far from dead as he could possibly be. The boy stood tall in front of the jeep's headlights, his eyes blazing a bright blue as he let out a loud roar.

It was then that they knew, for the time being, everything was going to be okay.

⠀⠀⠀⠀↻

UNEDITED.

i told myself i wouldn't cry but spoiler alert: i'm crying.

this is the last actual chapter of unspoken. up next is an epilogue of course, but holy frick guys I DID IT. it took me three months & a whole lot of procrastinating to get his last chapter out, but i did it. i'm a little disappointed in the quality of this chapter, but it's almost 8k words & was written very sporadically (and restarted about five times over the course of a month). i had some major writer's block but hell yes I pushed through that shit & I really hope it shows near the end. I will be going back & editing a bit, but not now because it's 4am. i was going to split this & post the other half tomorrow night, but seeing as how it took me forever, i don't think anyone wants to wait any longer (if anyone is still even reading).

& before i forget, i'm also happy to announce that there will indeed be a sequel, i've talked about it on my ask.fm a bit a few months ago & i already have loads planned. i can't wait for you guys to read it! but before that, stay tuned for the epilogue. i have a feeling it's going to make some people hate me. more than not updating for 3 months already has. sorry in advance?

as always.. opinions?