A metal-covered fist connected with my cheek before I had a chance to try and compose myself after the last punch.

"Stop, stop." I panted, holding my hand up in front of me as my back hit a wall. I would've run if I could, but we were in a confined space. Kate's body blocked the door to prevent any possibility of me leaving the training room she locked us inside of. 

"Stop?" Kate echoed, coming closer to me, her tall frame towering over my cowering figure.

My sweat and blood had mixed together all over my body as the lesson of the day took its toll. Kate wanted me to be able to handle the impact of a werewolf's punch, so she decided it would be best to learn by replicating their stiff hits with brass knuckles. 

Thankfully, it was only on one hand, but it had been her dominant one, and she was relentless.

"If we stop you die. How do you not understand that?" She snaps harshly. "You think if you get caught with a Beta in the middle of the woods and ask them to stop they'll just do it?" 

Her words stung because I knew they were true, but my body begged for relief.

Kate squatted down in front of me, her weaponized hand hanging off her thigh. I tried to pretend it wasn't coated with my blood. 

"Get up now and learn how to take it. You'll thank me for it one day." She stood back up and flexed her fingers in the brass knuckles, waiting for me to make a move.

I closed my eyes and took a breath before pressing back against the wall, using that to help me get up. My lips were busted on either side, my nose was bleeding, and there was a cut above my left eye, but I straightened myself out nonetheless.

I bit my lip, drawing out the metallic taste to help me grip reality. There was nothing left for me but this, but blood. This was who I had to be now, and what I had to endure with Kate's bitter lessons. 

She was right, I had to take it.

---

I jolt awake as the memory fades from my mind. 

If sleep wasn't a necessary thing for human survival, I would never do it. I often dreamt of Kate and her aggressive training tactics. The nights when I dreamt of nothing but black were always preferred.

The motel I lived in was always quiet at this hour in the morning. It was too early for the people having affairs to be sneaking into their rooms, and too late for those who stayed up all night partying with substances they couldn't use at home. 

I hadn't moved, still laying on the lumpy chunk of fabric padding and springs that were supposed to be a mattress. Sometimes after I dreamt of Kate, I found it hard to function, and now that there was a chance she would haunt me while I was awake, that feeling of dread only lasted longer. 

After the other night, we all waited for her to appear again, but she never did. That didn't provide me with any comfort, because Derek's eyes hadn't returned to normal either. That made me feel as though Kate wasn't done with him yet, or the rest of us. 

I forced myself to get out of bed and push thoughts of her away. 

If I missed a day of school, it would result in Scott coming to the motel to drag me to some sort of weird study night with him and Stiles, and I resented that. It was admittedly painful to get up, bruises forming on my back after the Berserker slammed me into the ground, but I bore the pain. 

I got dressed after washing up, choosing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a thin shirt, that way my body wouldn't be constricted by tight fabric. I also slid on my padded black-and-white motocross jacket, placing a dagger into each interior pocket on either side of my chest. 

With Kate in town, I wasn't going to walk around empty-handed. 

I left my room and locked the door behind me, keeping up the hanger on my doorknob that said not to enter. Housekeeping potentially vacuuming under my bed and finding my guns hidden there would make things super awkward.

This motel wasn't the nicest. It was a rickety old building with peeling paint, and the porch outside squeaked more than the engine on Stiles' Jeep, but it was decent for someone who didn't want many questions asked.

The workers here were under the assumption that my dad was a cross-country semi-truck delivery driver. It was absolutely ludicrous, but it worked. Most were rightfully unbelieving at first, but one day I had Derek pose as my so-called father, and they were sold.

The lady who owned this place swooned and praised him for being a single father providing for his daughter, and promised not to tell anyone I lived alone. She was nice and didn't bother me much but did occasionally ask about my "lovely father".

It also helped that I never missed a payment, and always added a discretionary cash bonus. 

When the Alpha Pack decimated my family, their riches became mine, so money wasn't a problem for me. In truth, I could leave the motel anytime I wanted to, buy a house or apartment somewhere downtown, but part of me resented putting down real roots here. 

Once Scott and the others graduated, there would be nothing for me in Beacon Hills. They'd go off into the world and begin their lives, and my vow to protect them would have been accomplished. I couldn't follow them forever. 

I was their friend, but I wasn't a part of their pack. 

I wasn't Allison. 

When they were ready to leave this town, I would be too. 

I depart from the motel, heading for the high school. I park near the front of the lot and head inside, swinging my helmet from side to side out of boredom. No one paid me any mind, and I told myself the silence was more enjoyable anyway. 

Entering my first period for the day, I find only a few other students in the room. The bell hadn't rung yet, so the hallways were more packed than the classrooms. 

I sit away from them and take a seat at the back of the class. I focus on bringing out my required materials for the day. When I reach for my Algebra textbook, the chair beside mine scrapes loudly against the floor. 

Mason cringes as he takes the open spot. He waves apologetically to the people around the room who gave him irritated glances for the noise, but rolls his eyes when they look away. It only makes me smile. 

He turns to me, mirroring the delighted gesture. 

"So, do you really have a parole officer?" He asks straightforwardly. 

I'm genuinely surprised at his bluntness, but not at all offended. I find that I don't want to necessarily lie to him, as I actually enjoy Mason's company. The idea of making small talk with him again didn't annoy me or send me into a nervous frenzy. 

"No, I don't. That guy that was outside called to get me out of class." I admit, referring to Stiles and his stupid miming. 

Mason snorts. "Yeah, I figured. That was Stiles Stilinski, right? The sheriff's son?"

I nod and Mason purses his lips in thought. 

"So are you two like...?" He trails off, but his suggestive tone allowed me to fill in the blank.

"Oh, god no." I shudder. I almost felt bad for the repulsed expression I wore, because Stiles wasn't that horrible, but the idea of him and I being anything beyond platonic was disturbing. 

"Give him some credit." Mason laughs. "He's got that whole adorkable appeal." 

I could already picture Stiles' reaction to Mason defending him. He'd claim the Hewitt boy was his new best friend, Scott be damned.

"Then let's just say he's not my type." 

"What is your type?" Mason places his palm under his chin as he props his arm up on his desk. He's clearly invested in this topic, but I'm only confused by it. 

I couldn't remember the last time I had a conversation about a relationship.  Lydia and I mostly just talked about how much she hated how I dressed but we never talked about dating. 

Kira didn't mention Scott around me too much, probably out of respect for my friendship with Allison. Then there was Malia. She and I really only talked about how to properly skin a deer when we were alone, not her and Stiles.

I never gave much thought to if I even had a type. 

When I saw a person, I could find them attractive, but I never felt connected to them in that type of way. Allowing those more sensitive emotions to fester wasn't something my training allowed. Kate taught me the only emotion I needed to have was rage, and that wasn't something a person sought in a partner. 

Loving someone like me, it was practically a curse. 

"Anyone but Stiles." I joke with Mason, hoping that would end this. 

"If you want, I can set you up." He offers. "I'm the greatest matchmaker of all time." 

I force out a laugh, knowing it would help to move us along. 

"Thanks, Mason. Maybe I'll take you up on that." 

The bell rang then, saving me from any more romance-related topics. A large flow of students enters the classroom, along with our teacher, Miss Flemming. Liam steps inside after her and stops to look for a seat.

"You mind if he sits by us?" Mason asks, probably wary that I wouldn't care for his friend after our interaction the other day. 

"Don't worry, I'll exist quietly." I retort, earning a soft laugh from Mason. 

He waves Liam over, the blue-eyed boy taking the seat in front of his best friend. He casts a glance my way, but I continue to look forward, not too keen on conversing with anyone but Mason at this point. Liam seemed like the type of person who had a short fuse, and I didn't need to deal with that. 

I already had Malia and Derek to fill that gap in my life. 

"Okay class, who wants to do some light review on this week's work?" Flemming says, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. Most people groaned in response but she didn't seem phased by that, in fact, it only seemed to fuel her.

"Great!" She cheered sarcastically.

She writes a few different sets of numbers on the board and then turns to us with a waiting expression.

"Who wants to tell me the union of sets A and B?"

No one raises their hand, making her visibly disappointed.

"I'm hoping you guys aren't raising your hands because you're shy and not because you didn't do your readings." 

Everyone continues to stare at her blankly, no one willing to break the awkward silence we unintentionally created.

I sigh and raise my hand, much to the relief of everyone else. Flemming happily points at me, her unspoken way of approving me to answer.

"One through ten."

"Very nice, Jac. Now can anyone tell me the intersection?" She asks after noting what I said on the board, her brown eyes scanning each and every one of us.

The room was silent again, but now it was Liam who raised his hand after a few uncomfortable seconds, much to Flemmings delight.

"Four and six." He answers. Flemming nods with excitement as she jots that down on the board. 

"Now, let's try a different set of numbers and see how you guys like that." 

She begins to write down a new set, and I could feel the very limited amount of energy in the room drain with each number she scrawled on the board. 

"Okay, what's our union now?" Flemming turns to us, but breathes out in frustration when she gets nothing in return. 

"Guys, this stuff is really easy, you should be getting it."

She was right, of course. This stuff was a review to root out the students that needed more help in class, but that was the main reason no one wanted to speak up. They were used to this already. Poor Flemming, though. I doubt getting dead-eyed looks from your students every day was any type of fun.

"Intervals of two until twelve." I speak up. Flemming's posture straightened by my answer. 

"Correct!" She cheers. "Anyone know the intersection?"

"Eight." Liam added, speaking right before I was about to. Mason reached out and patted his friend's shoulder encouragingly.

"Nice job, Liam." Flemming praises him.

She erases the board and rewrites a different sequence with a few new additions to the problem, a line over the equation. 

"Okay, now if you did the reading you should know what this is, who wants some participation points?"

A few students actually sank into their seats. Flemming didn't bother to try anymore and looked directly at me with a hopeful expression.

"Jac?"

"It's the complement, you have to find the numbers not in the universal set." I say, smiling gingerly at her obvious desperation. 

"Elements not in the universal set." Liam butted in, correcting me on the minor vocabulary error.

I scowl at the back of his head openly after he speaks. He turns slightly, using his peripheral to gauge my reaction, and quickly twists back into place when he notices the aggression in my eyes.

"Yeah, you're actually both correct." Flemming dismisses his intrusion and scribbles the definition onto the board nonetheless. 

"So who wants to give a shot at the complement for this set?"

I raised my hand instantly, knowing no one else would, and because I was admittedly peeved over Liam's actions. There was some insecure part of me that now felt the need to prove myself against him, as if we were battling for brownie points. 

"Five, six, seven, and eight." Liam blurts out despite not putting his hand up. I look far more offended over it than I should have given this was just a freshman Math class.

"Correct, but next time raise your hand, Liam." Flemming reprimands him before writing his answer down

Liam tried to glance back to see if I was still scowling at him, and since I was, his tanned skin became inflamed with a heated blush as he turned back around. Mason just laughed beside us, not at all phased at how I was picturing sticking his best friend's head into a used toilet.

Flemming wrote something new and turned to everyone, and I prepared myself to answer her before Liam could.

"Okay, now can anyone tell me the union of the sets, and then the complement?" 

Liam and I both shot our hands up at the same time. I automatically sat up straighter as if that would make Flemming choose me over him. She sighs at the two of us and shakes her head. 

"Anyone but Jac and Liam."

Both of our hands slowly sank back down. I cross my arms over my chest and settle for glaring at him again. Mason simply giggles at our interaction, finding humor in my growing distaste for his friend. 

"Mason, thanks for volunteering," Flemming calls out sarcastically.

"Huh?" He retorts, staring blankly at the board ahead. He was too busy laughing at Liam's expense to bother paying attention to any of today's lessons. 

Flemming waits for him to answer, her hand at the ready to list whatever he would say next. 

Liam leans back in his seat and places his hands behind his head. From anyone who wasn't behind him, it would appear that he was merely sitting in an overly-casual position. But actually, once his hands were out of view from Flemming, he used his fingers to silently give Mason the numbers. 

"The union is six," Mason says slowly, waiting for Liam to shift his fingers. "And eight."

"Awesome job, Mason! Now how about the complement?" She praises him as she writes down what he says on the board. 

When Mason doesn't respond Flemming glances over her shoulder to check on him, but her eyes land on Liam instead. 

"Liam, sit up." She scolds him for his posture. Liam mumbles an apology and does as she says, leaving Mason in the dark. 

Mason stutters on air, attempting to figure out what to say. Unable to watch this disaster unfold before my eyes, I click my pen a few times, gaining the Hewitt boy's attention. I push my notebook to the edge of my desk so it would be visible to him and quickly write down a one and three on the corner of the page.

"Thirteen?" Mason says, with a relieved breath. It catches in his throat when I shake my head rapidly and Liam spins around in his seat, unable to contain his shock as his best friend gives an incredibly wrong answer. 

I scribble a heavy line between the individual numbers, trying to contain the panic on my face if Flemming were to look our way. 

"Sorry, Mason, could you say that again?" She asks, holding her finger to her ear. 

"One and three!" He declares, his voice cracking minorly. 

"Perfect! I'm glad to see you're studying, Mason." Flemming praises him. 

She begins to delve deeper into the lecture, not looking for anyone else to speak for now. Mason closes his eyes now that he's out of the woods, dropping his head onto the surface of his desk, resounding in a solid thud. 

"Thanks, guys." He whispers. 

Liam peers over to my notebook on the corner of my desk, taking note of the numbers I had scribbled down for his friend. He offers me a gentle smile and a thankful nod, not exactly something I expected from him. I find myself returning his smile, and when he turns back around, I don't feel the need to hatefully leer at him anymore. 

When first period finally comes to an end, I follow the herd of lazy students out into the hall. 

I move to push through everyone to get to my next class across campus, but stop when I hear someone calling my name from down the hall. I scan the area and find Stiles stumbling toward me, his hands in the air, attempting to squeeze past other students. 

An embarrassed groan leaves me as I try to shrink. People look between Stiles and I, laughing at how idiotic he was being. Mason and Liam, who had been beside me when we walked out of class, were laughing too. At least they had the decency to try and hide it and gave me sympathetic glances before walking away.

When Stiles finally reaches me, I shake my head at him as he pants from whatever minor amount of running he had just endured. 

"I swear, Stilinski, sometimes it's like you want me to hate you."

"There was a family that got murdered by an axe-wielding maniac, you know anything about that?" He asks without any preamble, shoving his phone in my face. There were dozens of tabs open, all articles about axe-related homicides in California.

"You literally gave me no information, how would I know anything?" I retort. 

"You're like an expert in murder stuff, aren't you?" Stiles looks at me like I'm the crazy one here. 

I roll my eyes and grab his phone, beginning to walk down the hall to my next class. He trails behind me, eagerly observing me as I indulge in his madness. 

"I know things about weapons, not random psychos murdering people with axes. Happens more than you'd think." 

"Yeah, I know. I have like twenty separate stories pulled up." He gestures to his phone with a cringe.

I sigh as I read the main story he pointed out. Apparently, this morning a teenage boy ran into the hospital claiming a man with an axe murdered his entire family. It was tragic, but there was nothing overtly supernatural about it, which made me wonder why Stiles was pulling at this loose thread.

"What did Scott say about this?" I ask. Stiles shrugs and begins to sputter out random words rather than giving me a real answer. 

Out of thin air, Kira appears from behind us. 

"He said we should leave it to the adults." She says as she passes, continuing on her way. Stiles gapes at her retreating form, betrayal coating his features. I laugh at his expense as I hand him back his phone. 

"I agree with Scott. You're kinda pulling at straws here. It sucks, but sometimes people just do bad things." 

Stiles had a tendency to hyper-fixate on one thing too much and lose sight of the bigger picture. It made him go off the rails, which then led to him being consumed by his own mind. It made me concerned for him, because he never knew how to pull himself back. 

"What's going on?" I ask, noticing the stress that burdened him. 

"I have this feeling that something bad's coming. The last time I got that feeling, we kind of stood in the middle of a graveyard, and I don't want that to happen again." He replies softly. 

The ordeal with the Nogitsune obviously took a greater toll on Stiles than any of us, and sometimes it was hard to remember that it wasn't that long ago that we had to face all that turmoil. Things got better after we trapped it, like helping Kira and Malia learn their powers, and Scott coming into his own as an Alpha, but none of that would ever erase what we lost.

"If your dad says this is something he needs our help with, then I'll talk to Scott with you, but until then, I say we just focus on the problems that are actually ours." I offer.

"Yeah, okay." Stiles nods slowly. Thankfully, the tension in his shoulders leaves him. 

"I gotta get to class, but text me if you need me." I dismiss myself, stepping away from him. 

"Wait, you're still coming to watch us at tryouts, right?" He asks, double-checking. I turn to face him, walking backward down the hall. 

"Obviously. I can't wait to see you fall flat on your stupid face." I reply, smirking. He gives me an irritated look in response, but before I fully turn around, I catch sight of an amused and pleased grin taking over his face. 

~

||| A/N |||

vote and/or comment if ya want!

sorry for the math in this chapter lmao <3