"Freshmen," Lydia sighed blissfully as a herd of boys walked around the corner of the hallway they were standing in, "tons and tons of fresh men."

She gazed at a few that were walking down some steps, who, by the way, did not look fourteen. If Harper had seen them in the streets, she would have guessed that they were at least sixteen or seventeen.

"You mean fresh boys," Allison deadpanned as she shoved some books and folders into her locker, "Lydia, they're fourteen."

"Eh, some are more mature than others," the strawberry blonde dismissed Allison.

Harper sighed, gently grabbing Lydia's head and forcing her to look away from the young teenage boys. She rolled her eyes when Lydia raised her eyebrows at her.

"It's okay to be single, Lyds," Harper reminded her sternly, "I was for a whole sixteen years of my life."

Lydia turned her nose up at this.

Allison nodded quickly from behind Harper, "yeah. Focus on yourself for a little while, work on becoming a better person."

Lydia chuckled, "Allison, I love you. So if you need to do that thing where we talk about me and pretend that we're not actually talking about you, it's totally fine," she paused, "but I don't want a boyfriend. I want a distraction."

"They're pretty cute," Harper pointed over at two guys who had just walked in, suited up in leather jackets and dark jeans, motorcycle helmets in their gloved hands.

Lydia's mouth was gaped open slightly as she stared at them both, cocking her head to the side as she wondered if they were even worth her precious time. So far, judging by their faces alone, they certainly were.

"Brothers?" Allison raised her eyebrows.

They looked exactly identical to each other, except one had slightly broader shoulders and was the tiniest bit taller than his brother. They had dark eyes and full lips, their dirty blonde hair pushed up into short, messy quiffs.

"Twins," Lydia corrected with a smug beam.

...

The three teenage girls walked into their first lesson, which was English, just like last year. Lydia took a seat by the window, leaving an empty one next to Stiles. Harper sent her boyfriend a smile and sat down in her seat, pulling the things she needed from her bag out and placing them on her desk.

"How's your hand?" He questioned as Allison awkwardly took a seat in front of Scott who was on the other side of Stiles.

Harper looked down at the mentioned body part, lifting it up slightly, "it's okay, I guess. Still hurts a little."

"Want some ibuprofen?" Stiles moved to dig into his bag, only for him to fall off his chair.

The plastic seat clattered on the ground, but Stiles was back up again quicker than he had fallen. He spastically looked around to make sure that nobody had noticed, and thankfully all of the attention was off of him when everybody's phones began to start buzzing.

Stiles slid back into his seat, shooting Harper a thumbs up and a pursed lipped smile, chucking the small box at her. She chuckled and thanked him before pulling out her phone which had been buzzing since Stiles had fallen. Stiles and everybody else in the class room did the same, confusion in the air.

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under, an overcast sky seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness," Harper read from her phone just as a teacher walked inside the room, saying the words out loud herself.

The class looked up at the woman that they had never seen before. Her curled brown hair was tucked behind her face and she was pale with dark eyes. She had to be in her late twenties, not that old for a teacher.

"This is the last line of the first book we are going to read," She paused, holding up her phone, "it is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

Harper switched her phone off quickly and chucked it in the bottom of her bag. She pulled out a water bottle and two pills from the box Stiles had given her, downing them both quickly. She passed Stiles the box back secretly under the table and put her water bottle away.

...

Harper was midway through writing a sentence when the door to the English classroom opened and their principal walked in. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the blonde haired man approached Ms Blake, whispering something in her ear and looking at Scott. The Empath raised her eyebrows, wondering what it was all about.

Once he had left, Ms Blake called on her friend, "Mr McCall?" She gestured for him to leave the classroom with her.

Scott grabbed his bag and shot his two best friends a strange look before Ms Blake left the room and closed the door behind them. Harper immediately dropped her pen on the desk, sighing as she rolled her wrists to soothe the aching in them from all of the handwriting that she had been doing.

The brunette glanced around the room for something to distract her from the boring work set out in front of her. Her eyes landed on Lydia's new shoes, and then the plaster that was wrapped around her ankle.

"Did that happen yesterday? With all the glass?" Harper asked her friend, concerned.

Stiles glanced over, listening to their conversation as Lydia shook her head, "no. Prada bit me."

"Your dog?" Stiles' eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he leaned towards them in his seat.

"No, my designer handbag," Lydia spat back sarcastically, "yes, my dog."

Harper frowned, "but Prada's never bitten anybody before."

"I know." Lydia huffed.

Stiles leaned over further, "okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer?" He suggested, "you know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something."

Lydia squinted her eyes as she looked at the Stilinski boy, "meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something," Stiles implied, "I just- maybe it means something is coming. Something bad."

"It was a deer and a dog," Lydia muttered, "what's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice..."

The strawberry blonde was cut off by a crow flying straight at the glass window beside her, crimson blood splattering up against it as it dropped down dead. The entire class looked up at it, eyes wide. There was too much confusion in the room for the Empath not to feel as Ms Blake moved towards the window, a gasp escaping her lips when she saw what was outside.

About a hundred black crows were moving towards the school, squawking loudly. Another crow hit the glass right in front of Ms Blake, and then another, and another, and another. One managed to break through the glass, creating a hole for more of the birds to come through.

"Get down, everyone!" Ms Blake screamed as the whole class began to panic, waving her hands in the air to protect her face.

Stiles shoved his desk out of the way as people began pushing and shoving, grabbing hold of Harper and pulling her down. His entire body covered hers, his arms wrapped around her head. She squeezed her eyes closed shut, trying not to connect to anybody in the room.

Harper had been living as an Empath for about ten months now, but she still wasn't very good at it. With no teacher and only conspiracies online, she had to figure everything out for herself. Sometimes she could disconnect herself easily, other times there would be too much of a certain feeling that she just couldn't do it.

For example, currently, everybody was panicking, causing Harper to feel it too. If it was only one or two people feeling anxious, then she might be able to block it out.

However, on the physical side of being an Empath... Harper couldn't really control the physical pain that she felt unless she concentrated on not feeling it to the point where her eyes were screwed shut and it was all she could think about.

It took a few agonising minutes for everything to calm down, and by that, Harper meant for the crows all to die and leave them in an eerie silence. Hesitantly, everyone began to stand up, wincing as they held their injuries caused by the birds. You were lucky if you hadn't gotten pecked or scratched by one of them more than once.

Harper shuddered as Stiles guided her back up slowly, seeing charcoal coloured feathers all around the room amongst the dead crows. Allison and Lydia got up from where they had been protecting each other, their hair far messier than it had been when they walked into school that morning.

...

Everyone was sitting around the classroom or in the hallway when the police turned up. Stiles and Harper were sitting at a desk at the front of the room, Harper curled up in the seat with her eyes closed and Stiles leaning against the table on his phone.

A feeling of panic came from nearby, causing Harper to open one eye. She sighed and opened both when she saw Ms Blake leaning against her desk, her eyes wide as she breathed heavily. Harper prodded Stiles arm to get his attention and pointed at their new English teacher.

Stiles hesitantly leaned away from the desk, Harper climbing up from her chair. "Ms Blake? You okay?" He asked her awkwardly.

Harper noticed that the teacher had been scratched on the face several times by the birds and frowned. This must the worst first day for a new teacher, like, ever.

Ms Blake didn't look up but nodded her head slowly. Stiles pursed his lips together before clumsily reaching around her head and using two fingers to pull a feather out of her hair. She flinched away from him as he dropped it to the ground, sending her an weird smile before turning back to Harper and sighing.

"Stiles, you know what crows are, right?" Harper questioned, her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Birds?"

Harper rolled her eyes, "no, dumbass. What they symbolise. Crows are a warning. Or more important, a warning of death." She lowered her voice to whisper to him.

Stiles' eyes were wide, "what does this mean?"

Harper simply shrugged, "whoever is causing all the animals to act up really likes metaphors? I don't know, Stiles. I do know that this is not good. Not good at all."

The hazel eyed boy didn't get time to respond as his dad walked past him and straight over to Allison and Chris Argent. Parents were being sent to collect their children to take them home for the day, but Noah Stilinski had come for Stiles and Harper, since Melissa was working an important shift at the hospital.

"Mr Argent, you wouldn't have any insight into this, would you?" He questioned, causing Harper and Stiles to both shoot strange glances at each other.

Why would Noah think that Chris knew anything about a bunch of crows flying into their classroom?

"Me?" Chris sounded equally as confused as Allison, Harper, and Stiles felt.

"Yeah..." Noah replied, "all this bizarre animal behaviour, it's... you must have seen something like this before, right?"

Allison's dad continued to look at him in confusion, "I'm not sure why I would or why you think I would."

There was a heavy silence before Noah apologised, "I'm sorry. I could have sworn I overhead my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter," he jerked his thumb towards Stiles who quickly looked down at his phone, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Harper scoffed, lightly smacking Stiles arm and laughing a little bit.

"Ah, right," Chris nodded in understanding, "well, not anymore."

"Oops," Stiles looked over at Harper who just shook her head with a smile.

...

"We got a serious problem at school. Ms Blake's class-" Stiles was cut off on the other end of the phone by Scott, "well, no, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion," there was a pause, "Derek's house!? What? What the hell are you doing at-"

Scott hung up on the other end of the phone, causing Stiles to let out a mumble of curses and shove his phone angrily into the pocket of his khakis. Harper raised her eyebrows at him as she leaned against her locker, taking out her books that she was meant to be using for the day and putting them into her bag.

"Um, why is Scott at Derek's house?" She questioned, not looking up from her job.

Stiles sighed, "no idea, but I think it has something to do with Scott's tattoo," he explained as they began to walk down the hall towards the school car park.

The brunette's eyes widened, "wait, hold up. Scott has a tattoo?!" She gaped, "where? What is it of? When? Why didn't I know this?"

"Calm down," Stiles chuckled as he pulled his keys out of his other pocket, unlocking the jeep so that they could both climb inside, "he got it done the day you came back, only it disappeared because of the whole werewolf healing thing. I think he wants Derek to help him get it back, since he has one on his back."

"That sucks," Harper mumbled.

"Not really," Stiles scoffed, shaking his head, "the tattoo sucks."

"I think I want to get a tattoo," Harper chimed, inspecting her bare arms, "Melissa said yes to Scott, so she has to say yes to me too, right?"

It was Stiles' turn for his eyes to bulge, "a tattoo? On you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Harper crossed her arms against her chest defensively, frowning at the Stilinski boy.

"N-nothing's wrong with you!" Stiles spluttered, "it- it's just! You're so delicate and innocent- a tattoo is like... the opposite."

"I'm not delicate or even that innocent," Harper whined, "and besides, maybe I don't want to be delicate anymore. Maybe I want to be a badass like Erica."

Stiles chuckled, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, "you'd be the cutest badass ever."

Harper grinned, "I can see my title in shining lights- 'Harper Verum: The nicest badass ever'," she waved her hands about for dramatic effect and lowered her voice a little.

"I said cutest."

"I'm not cute," Harper claimed, "cute is for five year olds. I'm a woman now."

"Okay, woman," Stiles rolled his eyes playfully, "get out the car, then. We gotta see what was so important that Scott couldn't listen to my phone call."

Harper only then realised that they had parked outside of the Hale house in the middle of the woods. She had been so engrossed in her playful conversation with Stiles that she hadn't even realised that so much time and driving had gone by.

...

Scott was sat on a wooden stall, Derek crouched down in front of him while Harper and Stiles stood behind the two werewolves, watching with folded arms as Derek's eyes glowed red, scanning where Scott's tattoo had apparently been before.

"Yeah, I see it," Derek mumbled, his eyes going back to their normal blue, "two bands, right?" He traced his hand in the air above Scott's bicep, causing the beta to nod, "what does it mean?"

There was a short silence before Scott replied, "I don't know," he admitted, "it's just something I traced with my fingers."

The McCall boy reached down, his finger going into the dust on the floor as he drew a small circle, and then two larger ones right next to each other on the outside of it.

"Why is this so important to you?" Derek asked, causing Harper's gaze to flicker to Scott for his response.

"Do you know what the word 'tattoo' means?" Scott responded.

When Derek didn't reply after a second, Stiles answered for him, "to mark something." He smiled smugly at his knowledge, sending an unwanted wink in Derek's direction.

"Well, that's in Tahitian," Scott nodded, "in Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?" Derek asked softly, seeming genuinely curious.

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer," the younger werewolf admitted hesitantly, "even when I really wanted to, even when it was really hard sometimes. You know, I was just trying to give her the space she wants," He let out a deep sigh, "going four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a..."

"An open wound?" Harper referenced Scott's previous words, sending a sympathetic smile his way.

Scott looked up at her, their eyes meeting as he nodded, "yeah."

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before Derek huffed, leaning down and grabbing a blow torch. Harper raised her eyebrows a the sight while Stiles pursed his lips together.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt," Derek warned him.

Stiles muttered under his breath sarcastically, "ah, that's great."

"Do it," Scott nodded at the Alpha, a new sense of excitement behind his brown eyes.

The blow torch was lit on fire, Harper taking a step back from where she was so close to it. Even Scott's mouth fell open a little.

"Oh, wow," Stiles chuckled nervously, "that's a lot for me. So, I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside."

Harper bit down on her bottom lip as Derek grabbed Stiles, stopping him from leaving.

"Nope," Derek instructed, "you can help Harper hold him down."

The brunette's eyebrows furrowed into a frown, not liking the thought of putting her closest friend through pain. She hesitantly grabbed a hold of Scott's shoulder, Stiles going around to hold the other side. The couple glanced at each other, gulping.

"What if I connect to him?" Harper rushed out before he could start.

Derek shot her a look, "then don't."

"Jeez, what helpful advice," Harper muttered under her breath.

Scott sent Derek a nod of consent, and Derek leaned in with the blow torch. The blue flames hit Scott's tan skin, immediately causing the werewolf to let out a scream of pain. He struggled against Stiles and Harper's grips, withering as he yelled out, but Derek didn't even flinch, continuing with his job.

"Hold him!" Derek warned them through gritted teeth.

Harper looked away when she saw the skin on his arm start to welt. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to connect to him. Scott's eyes flashed golden yellow, his fangs growing from his teeth as he cried out in pain, until eventually, he passed out.

...

Harper heard a loud gasp come from where Scott had been passed out, seeing the sweat drenched boy suddenly awake and alert. He looked at Stiles, Derek, and Harper for a second before down at his tattooed arm. A grin formed on his face, causing Harper to smile too.

"It worked," He exclaimed gleefully.

The Empath nodded, "it looks pretty cool."

Scott sent Stiles a look, "thanks, Harper," He grinned, "I'm glad you think so."

The Stilinski boy rolled his eyes at the comment that was obviously directed at him. It was no secret that Stiles hated the two bands around Scott's bicep, he had expressed his feelings very widely to Scott as soon as he had gotten it done in the first place.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles scoffed after Scott had slipped on a white shirt.

The three began to walk out of the house, Harper's hand placed in Stiles' as she walked in the middle of them.

"Yeah,"Scott nodded, "I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that's happened to us, everything just changes so fast. Everything's so... ephemeral."

Stiles paused, "studying for the PSAT's?"

"Yep," Scott admitted proudly.

"Good," Harper patted his arm, her mum friend side coming out.

Scott sent her a small smile as he opened the front door to leave, only to get distracted by the red paint on the other side. The werewolf stayed there for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"You painted the door," He called out to Derek who was in the other room, "why'd you paint the door?"

"Go home, Scott," Derek warned him.

Scott ignored him, his hand going up to caress it.

"And why only one side?" He questioned further.

He flicked out his claws before he started to scrape the paint away. Derek quickly advanced towards them.

"Scott," He repeated, but he didn't sound angry.

"Dude, he probably just painted that," Harper frowned at her friend with furrowed brows, "you're ruining his door."

Scott ignored Harper, using both hands to rapidly scrape at the door until most of the red paint was gone from one particular section. Underneath the red paint, on the old brown door, was a strange triangular symbol.

Harper looked over Derek in confusion.

"The birds at school and the deer the last night," Scott recalled, "just like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the Alpha. How many are there?"

Harper quickly put together that this was the symbol of a new werewolf pack, and that that was why the animals had been acting up- there was a new Alpha in town.

Derek sighed, "a pack of them." He paused, "an Alpha pack."

"Wait, what?" Harper's eyebrows furrowed together even further, "how though? Like, a whole pack of Alpha's?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader," Derek explained, looking at Harper, "he's called Deucalion. We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac, and I have been looking for them for the last four months."

Scott stepped forwards, closer to Derek, "let's say you find them. How do you deal with an Alpha pack?"

"With all the help I can get," He looked between the two other supernatural beings in the room. Stiles just huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Where is she?" Isaac's voice suddenly came from another room, "where's the girl?"

Harper stared at the boy that she hadn't seen for the past four months, the boy that she had started getting close to before she left for the summer. He was sat on the table, shirtless, a panicked look on his face.

"What girl?"

...

Harper's eyebrows furrowed together as her brown eyes scanned each individual can of paint, trying to find the one that she needed. Harper knew what she was looking for, but she couldn't find it.

Stiles was situated a few meters away, sat on a mini step ladder on his phone.

Suddenly, Harper's eyes casted over the paint can she needed, causing her to gasp out loud from excitement. She bounded up on her toes and stretched to reach the invisible fluorescent paint.

A grunt escaped her lips as she missed by an entire shelf, causing the short girl to huff and blow some hair out of her face. She tried again and again, quickly becoming frustrated by her lack of height and ability to reach high things.

Unexpected hands wrapped around Harper's waist and suddenly her feet were no longer on the concrete floor. She squealed as Stiles lifted her higher, chuckling as she laughed and reached forwards, clasping the paint can and hugging it to her chest.

"Okay, okay, you can put me down now!" Harper giggled happily as her boyfriend laughed, putting her back down on the floor next to her.

She smiled at him, tucking the can of paint under her arm and reaching up to plant a kiss on his lips. Stiles smiled widely.

"You're a hero, Stilinski," She teased.

Stiles scoffed, "obviously. Who knows how long you would have been left struggling due to your lack of height?"

"So humble, too," The brunette muttered under her breath sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Stiles began to follow her as they went towards the tills. "I can hear you, you know," He reminded her.

"Good." Harper shot back, placing the tin of paint in front of the cashier who scanned it.

She rummaged through her purse, pulling out a ten dollar bill and paying the spotty teen behind the cash register. They began to walk out of the large decor department, hands linked.

"Why do you want to paint you ceiling with stars?" Stiles questioned after a few moments of comfortable silence.

Harper thought about telling him, but she didn't want to ruin the happy atmosphere that they had going on. The stars on her ceiling were for when it wasn't dark outside and she couldn't see Rose in the real sky when she needed her.

But, instead of letting out her deep explanation, she just shrugged, "they look pretty."

...

"Harper," a short knock came to the teenage girl's bedroom door as she was painting.

The door opened to reveal Melissa with a sheepish smile. Harper smiled back at the older woman, jumping off of the stall she was using to help her paint the ceiling, and wiped the sweat gathering on her forehead.

"Hi, Melissa," Harper smiled.

"It's looking great, Harper," Melissa complimented, looking up at the work in progress, "I just came in here to give you a few bits of mail that came for you while you were away. I don't know how old they are since I went to your old house and found them."

"Thank you," Harper took the two envelopes from her.

"No problem," Melissa spoke warmly, about to leave before she paused, "wait, where's Stiles?"

Harper chuckled, "he had to go home at some point. And by that, I mean Noah came over and dragged him away by the ear."

Melissa scoffed, "You two are inseparable. I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart."

"Night," Harper called.

As soon as the door shut behind the Hispanic woman, Harper looked down at the envelopes, sitting down on her bed.

Harper Verum

Nothing else was written, and there was no stamp, meaning the person must have put it through her door themselves. She ripped open the paper packaging, revealing a very lovely handwritten later.

Splotches of ink interrupted the cursive writing in places, but other than that it was one of the neatest pieces of writing Harper had ever seen.

She began to read it.

Dear Harper,

It is extremely weird writing to you, since I had no idea you existed until last week, and you probably still don't know I exist. Oh well, I guess you kind of do now. My story is long and complicated so I don't want to throw it all on you at once. Hopefully I don't overwhelm you too much, as that is not my intention.

Harper's eyebrows raised at the paragraph in front of her, and she felt herself become slightly nervous about what she was going to read. Who on earth was writing to her and how did they even know her in the first place? She wondered if it had anything to do with the alpha pack running around town that Derek had mentioned earlier.

My name is Harry and I am also your half brother, as in we have the same dad. I never met the man, but some people that used to be friends with him told me about him, and said that he had a daughter too. You, Harper.

Harper allowed a scoff to leave her lips, not believing a word written down on the paper in front of her. It was most likely a prank from somebody at her high school.

I have no family left. My mum died when I was fourteen and I've been hidden away from the rest of society ever since- not by choice of course. I don't want to tell you where I am, as I am afraid you might tell someone. Harper, you cannot tell anyone. If they find out that I am writing letters to people outside this place then most likely the person helping me deliver these and I will end up dead.

And so, Harper, you are the last person I have left, even though we've never met each other. I understand if you don't believe me straight away, so I'm going to tell you something that might convince you otherwise. Our dad, Gabriel Valack, is not dead. I know this is hard to believe, and I said that I would try not to overwhelm you, but I need you to believe me.

The sooner you believe me, the sooner you can help me out of here, and the sooner I can get to know my little sister. I'm not safe here, and you are my last hope. Please reply to me so hopefully I can give you more information.

From, Harry

Harper dropped the letter onto her lap, the pages folding back into the position they were in whilst inside the envelope. She pursed her lips, tears stinging her eyes as she dared herself to believe the writing in front of her. She had never been convinced that her father was particularly normal.

Gabriel Valack had always been a secretive man- he was never one to speak or show much emotion, even to his wife and daughter. Everything was about his work, and the more that Harper thought about it, the more she realised that maybe he was too into his work at the mental hospital.

Even his death was quite suspicious to thirteen year old Harper. They didn't open his casket due to the supposed bullet wound in his forehead, but maybe he was never even shot. Maybe this Harry person, who was supposedly her brother, was telling the truth.

Nonsense! You went to his funeral, Harper. You visit his grave regularly. The police found his dead body.

Harper shoved the letter back into the envelope and hid it underneath her pillow, taking a deep breath. She looked down at the other envelope that Melissa had given to her. It wasn't stamped and also had her name written in the same cursive writing on top.

She hesitantly ripped it open and began to read.

Dear Harper,

It's been two weeks since I sent my last letter. I realised that I left no address for you to return any letters. I talked to the person helping me send these to you, and they think you are trust worthy enough. Hopefully you trust me too. Anyway, here is the address for you to give your letter to. Ask for Jeremey as soon as you walk in. Don't give it to anyone that is not him, and put his name on the front too. Sign it with a symbol so he knows it is for me.

Eichen House, Beacon Hills, California.

Ask questions as to why I am there in your letter, I promise I am not mentally ill. I will explain everything.

From, Harry

Eichen House. The mental hospital her father used to work at- and the one her parents were both murdered inside. Harper scratched her wrist nervously, starting to believe Harry.

Maybe she did have a half brother, and maybe her father was alive.

-
both chapters have been over 5,000 words long, and I'm probably not going to keep that up for long haha

hopefully it was good? i thought the scene between stiles and harper at the diy store was quite cute :)

thanks so much for reading!