After I almost beat a locker to death earlier, it was fair to say my friends were concerned for me.

They kept me company for the rest of the day, urging me to skip the remainder of my classes. I agreed only because I highly doubted I'd be much of a participant in Economics in my current condition.

Stiles couldn't stay with us for long, though I was sure he would have if he could have. He only left because Lydia asked him to accompany her to Beacon Hills Memorial. She was positive she'd seen something there during her surgery from when Tracy sliced her, but the memory that surfaced after she read Valack's book didn't correlate with that. They went together to investigate and find any clues, always the best duo for discovering the undiscoverable.

The others remained with me until the end of the school day. Liam, Brett, and Hayden put aside their hatred for one another for my sake, and the five of us stowed away in the back of the library, hidden behind rows of bookshelves that shielded us from the outside world.

Mason was our main source of entertainment in those hours that passed. He picked random books to read to us while we sat crowded around him like school children, intent on listening to their teacher during storytime. I don't remember much of what he chose, I only remember the comfort of being surrounded by my friends while my mind attempted to heal itself from what it had seen.

All good things must end though, and our time in the library couldn't last forever.

Mason had to get home for a family dinner, Liam had lacrosse mandatory lacrosse practice, and Brett needed to pick up Lori from school before his shift at Richard's started. Hayden had to work too, but she was adamant about not letting me be alone and ordered me to come with her. Not only that, but she also claimed this weekend I would stay over at her place so she could keep an eye on me.

"Are you sure Valerie won't mind me staying over?" I ask Hayden for probably the thousandth time today.

We stand together in one of Sinema's back storage rooms, a fold-out table between us. It was covered with over a dozen miniature maroon glass jars filled with artificially musky wax that made me slightly nauseated.

When we arrived at the club, Hayden's boss Phil ordered her to put out multiple sets of candles. He claimed it would 'add to the ambiance'. I wanted to caution him against using open flames as decor in a building that was inevitably going to be packed with stumbling drunk patrons, but decided against it. Phil didn't exactly seem like the type to take well to constructive criticism.

Hayden laughs lightly in response, using a slim plastic lighter to light another wick. She seems more focused on the current task at hand rather than my growing nerves.

"She'll be fine with it, Jac. In all honesty, Val will probably think you're a godsend. She's been waiting for me to show her proof that I'm not a total loner since I was in like sixth grade," Hayden jokes, an attempt to ease my mind.

I offer a chuckle in return, though it's only a minor one.

It was important to me to leave a good impression on Valerie. Not only was she a member of Hayden's family, and most likely the only one I'd ever meet given their parental situation, but she also worked for Stilinski. The last thing I wanted is for the sheriff, a man I deeply admire, to have to listen to one of his deputies rant about any of my potentially unsavory or unfavorable behaviors rubbing off on their sister.

I'm sure he already got an earful from Parrish about my midnight racing with Theo.

Hayden catches on that I'm still not exactly soothed and continues her efforts.

"Jac, relax. This weekend is going to be great. We're gonna eat tons of junk food, put on face masks that are terrible for our skin, and most importantly, watch the best romantic drama known to man, The Notebook." At that last bit, Hayden stares off into space dreamily, though I can't match her attitude.

"Never seen it," I confess.

Her eyes snap to meet mine once more, shock painted across her sharp features. It's as if I've just told her werewolves were real.

"What?" She replies shortly.

"It's not that big of a deal," I defend myself with a mild shrug.

She lets out a disgruntled sigh that tells me apparently it was a big deal.

"Jac, watching The Notebook is a right of passage into womanhood."

I snort softly at her words, thinking she was only kidding. I realize she's not as her expression remains unchanging and serious. My attention falls to the square metal lighter I have in my hands to avoid her piercing gaze.

"This is the same way Stiles reacted when I told him I'd never seen Star Wars." I murmur under my breath, almost chilled at the comparison between the dramatics of Hayden and the Stilinski boy.

"You've never seen Star Wars?!" Hayden gapes at me, her expression filled with betrayal.

"I don't even own a television."

There's genuine disappointment that takes over Hayden's face.

"Oh my god, I am seriously regretting choosing you to be my best friend right now," Hayden whispers to herself with disapproval. I scoff amusedly at her antics, knowing she's not actually offended. Or at least, I hope she isn't.

"Well, I'm sorry. I'll try to do better," I apologize sarcastically before resuming the task of lighting the array of candles before us.

The soft music playing in the background of the club is soon all I'm able to hear as Hayden quiets down. It's not a comfortable silence, though. Hayden begins to shift back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously and wrings her hands over and over again, her attitude suddenly awkward.

I give her a puzzled look, wondering what brought on her mood change. She doesn't answer my unspoken question at first, instead, she has some sort of an internal conversation with herself on whether or not she should actually speak. Finally, she does.

"That wasn't weird, was it?" she asks.

I'm still lost even after she responds, her question not fitting into anything that's just occurred.

"What are you talking about?" I voice my uncertainty.

"Me calling you my best friend," she explains quietly, her eyes dodging mine every other millisecond that we look at each other.

My own actions still now too. I hadn't even caught on to the title she referred to me under. It felt so natural that my mind didn't feel the need to backtrack.

There's an inkling of guilt that tries to worm its way into me. My brain berates me, reminding me that I already had a best friend. Allison had been there for me through every fault I had, in life and death. How dare I attempt to posthumously replace her.

That guilt tries to eat away at me, but it can't. It can't because of Hayden. Her constant assurance lately has allowed me to understand that my emotions are valid, no matter how strong or empty; kind or vicious. There is nothing wrong with feeling.

Having her as a best friend doesn't take away from what I had with Allison, and it was okay to admit that. It was okay to admit that maybe, just maybe, I could move on from my grief. Allison herself would have said the same thing.

When I first came to Beacon Hills, I was convinced that Lydia usurped my role at Allison's side in the time that we were apart. I felt threatened by her because I thought that compared to me, Lydia had everything she ever wanted. I resented her for it. She then resented me for resenting her.

Allison understandably grew tired of our constant backhanded comments and bickering. I didn't admit that my attitude had been a result of jealousy, I was too ashamed to, but Allison already had it figured out. She could always read me like an open book.

She didn't lecture me or Lydia, nor did she make some big speech about us all getting along. All she said was that we were both her best friends. I have room in my heart big enough for both of you brats, she'd teased me.

I never felt the need to question either of them again after that.

Hayden, who can't read my mind, has taken my contemplation as something unsettling and her shifting only begins to grow more urgent.

"I just don't want you to think I'm some sort of clingy freak or something, I know we've only known each other for a couple of weeks-"

"Why would that change anything?" I interrupt her, genuinely curious.

"For some people, it might," she suggests that half-heartedly because she's not speaking of herself. She only wants to have an excuse on the off-chance I'm genuinely creeped out, which I'm not, but I understand her caution.

Something I'd picked up over my time in the company of Scott and Stiles was that a friendship was just as important, if not more, than an actual relationship. In both, we bind ourselves to another person for the rest of our lives. Friendships are meant to last; to endure. But only if we're willing to fight for them.

"You're my best friend, Hayden," I state simply, as if it was the easiest thing in the world for me to say. Hayden smiles brightly as a result.

"You're my best friend, Jac," she mimics my words tenderly.

"Unfortunately," I add, earning a bubbly giggle from her that shatters any residual unease on her end. I join her chorus of amusement, candles abandoned.

I can almost picture Allison nodding in approval.

A loud voice calling out to us from across the club is the only thing that takes our attention away from each other. We both turn, finding Liam coming in from the back entrance that was propped open for staff.

"Twenty-five more dollars!" Liam announces proudly, holding out his hand that's filled with crumpled bills, still working toward paying Hayden back for the dropped shots.

Hayden continues to laugh, not at all affected by Liam's sudden appearance. I'm glad to see they're still going to continue their unspoken truce from earlier and not fight around me. Maybe I should punch lockers more often...

Liam strides over to us, placing down the duffel bag he had slung across his shoulder onto the floor, his lacrosse stick peeking out from inside of it.

He mentioned earlier that he would stop by Sinema once practice wrapped up, but I thought he would have at least gone home to drop off his things first, not come here right away. Even his hair was still damp from the shower he must've taken after his workout, another hint of his rushing.

I wasn't sure whether or not he decided to come here so quickly for my sake, wanting to see me as soon as he could, but I was grateful for him being here now either way. When he comes to a stop at my side I instinctively lean closer to him, searching for the familiar warmth he naturally radiates.

He tries to hand Hayden the money but she avoids it.

"Please, stop," she pleads.

She puts her back to him and refocuses on the candles beside us. She starts to pile them up onto a circular serving tray to make it easier for her to place them everywhere, still needing to complete her opening duties for the night. It was already dark outside which meant a line would begin to form at the front door soon enough.

"I promised I'd pay you back." Liam practically pouts, his arm still extended with the money held out to Hayden.

"It doesn't matter anymore, and Phil takes half of it anyway," she dismisses him, waving toward her sorry excuse of a boss.

He was currently behind the bar, distracted by interviewing a man who was a potential new server. For some reason, his shirt was off, and Phil was scrutinizing his pecs. Certainly, a background check would have been more suitable.

"Half?" I echo her in disbelief. I may not have ever had a conventional job, but I knew that had to be against a couple of dozen labor laws.

"I'm a sixteen-year-old shot girl, it's not like I have that many rights in the workplace," Hayden retorts. Her tone makes it seem like a joke but I didn't find any humor in it.

My gaze goes over my shoulder, narrowing on Phil.

"I'll say something to him," I announce, turning to head in the man's direction. Phil wasn't an intimidating figure and I was sure with a little pressure on my end, and maybe some violence, I could persuade him to pay Hayden fairly. Hell, I could get her a raise.

Before I can get very far though, Hayden grabs my upper arm to stop me.

"Jac, he's twice your size, I doubt you could even make him flinch let alone pay me," she laughs in my face, not at all deeming me threatening.

"Yeah, probably," I force out a chuckle, settling to stay in place.

It was a better idea to do nothing anyway than to possibly lose my temper with Phil, because contrary to what Hayden might think, it wouldn't take much effort for me to do serious bodily harm to someone like her boss.

"If he takes half, that's even more of a reason for you to keep the money. Please," Liam cuts in, trying to force the cash into Hayden's hand again.

"No, it wasn't your fault," she refuses him, her anger over the other night seemingly gone.

"I punched you in the face," Liam replies sheepishly, referring to his and Hayden's sixth-grade tussle that was the origin of their bitter nature toward one another.

"I meant the shots," Hayden laughs, correcting him.

"Oh." Liam flushes with embarrassment.

He and Hayden share a genuine smile over the miscommunication. I have a secret smile of my own as I watch the two of them interact like actual human beings rather than two stray dogs fighting over a scrap of food. I enjoy the calm moment silently, not wanting to draw attention to them getting along on the off chance they'll stop.

"Just forget about it," Hayden tells him. "I'll make it back somehow."

She doesn't wait for him to continue pestering with the money. She slowly begins to step away from us, cradling the full tray of candles with both hands.

"I have to put these around, please don't make-out in the storage room while I'm gone," she teases with a goofy cringe before finally walking off.

"Too late," Liam mutters cockily when she's out of earshot.

My eyes are wide as I smack his arm scoldingly, while Hayden yells at him from all the way across the club.

"I heard that!" she shrieks, her voice laced with disgust.

Liam stares in shock at the back of her head over the fact that she was able to hear him from quite a distance. His reaction only amuses me as he appears like a fish out of water. The sound of my laughter pulls him away from any distractions, and he focuses solely on me.

I lower my gaze shyly when he smiles my way, this one far more intimate than the one he wore a second ago.

His hand comes up to hover under my chin, a silent question to touch. When I don't refuse, he clasps it gently between his fingers and lifts my head until our eyes meet. His touch remains light, treating me carefully.

"I wish I could have stayed with you," he whispers, neither of us fond of the few short hours we had to be apart today.

I wish he could have stayed too, almost desperate to have him around me after what my mind had exposed me to, but our wants wouldn't change anything now. Liam couldn't abandon a mandatory practice to be with me, it would raise too many questions that we couldn't answer.

"You're here now," I say contently.

There was no reason to dwell on anything else, not when we were finally together, but distant voices remind me that we aren't within the private confines of my loft, we're exposed.

Phil and the random man at the bar are right around the corner. They could see us wrapped around each other at any moment. The fact that they don't care about who we are keeps me from freaking out over it entirely, but them being here is still a reminder that Liam and I aren't something that can be seen in the light. Only the shadows.

I glance in Hayden's direction, finding her still across the bar. Her tray's virtually empty now, but despite that, she hasn't made the effort to come back here to refill it. Instead, she focuses on unpacking multiple boxes of glowsticks for tonight's rager.

She does that for us, keeping busy so we can have a single moment to ourselves.

Sinema may have been a breeding ground for unseemly behavior, but here with Hayden, we were safe. Not fully open, but not completely hidden either. Perhaps not all shadows were pure darkness.

"Are you sure you're not mad about her and Brett being around?" I look back to Liam, needing one last bit of reassurance before I completely allow my guard to fall and let myself hope.

As much as I enjoyed today, having the three of them together at once, I understood that it was a special circumstance. It would take a while before all of them forgave each other for their respective pasts, and they had every right to do that on their own time. I didn't want to make any of them feel forced into it, especially Liam.

Liam shakes his head, busying himself with brushing away the strands of dark hair that have slipped from my braid and fallen into the line of my vision.

"I can never be mad at you," His fingers trace the expanse of my jaw and the divots of my cheekbones. "You're my girl."

I'm unable to turn away from his penetrating gaze as he cradles my face. I can feel my face burn and I'm sure I've turned a bright crimson by the way my skin has heated up over his words. I can't truly explain the reaction my body has to them, all I can understand is that I want him to say it again.

Liam chuckles and leans closer to me, lowering his voice for only me to hear.

"And you could totally kick Phil's ass, by the way."

Laughter erupts from inside of my chest and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to muffle the noise. Liam holds me close as I do so, his eyes falling to keep track of the movement and lingering for longer than necessary.

When my amusement dies down Liam begins to dip his head, drawing closer to me. My eyes flutter shut automatically and my breath grows shallow. I wait impatiently for the sensation of his skin against mine. Frustration spreads through me when it never comes.

I expected Liam to be attempting to playfully tease me, but he wasn't. His attention wasn't even on me. His eyes were guarded, scanning the area around us.

"What is it?" I question him, searching for whatever had caused him to deprive me of the kiss I desired.

His grip around me tightens protectively.

"It's the same scent from the other night with Lucas," he says quietly, wary we were in the presence of the same unseen threat that we faced a few nights ago. We'd assumed the young chimera had been what Liam picked up, but if he smelt that same scent now, then that surely couldn't be the case.

"Maybe it's just the club?" I suggest.

Liam's eyes finally stop darting across the room, landing on Hayden.

"It's not," he states matter-of-factly, the faintest hint of pity in his tone.

Without another word, Liam pulls away from me and walks over to Hayden, his brow set in determination.

"Liam, wait," I call out to him in a hushed voice, not wanting Hayden to overhear. Liam doesn't stop and he goes right up to her, setting up an abrupt conversation.

I can't hear what they're saying, not all the way from across the room, but I can tell by how hesitant Hayden appears that it isn't leading to anything good. My feet feel like anchors as I begin to numbly drag myself toward the two of them, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"All you have to do is close your eyes for three seconds," Liam says to her, one of the glowsticks Hayden had laid out on a standing table nearby clasped in his hand.

"You said two," Hayden retorts, mildly annoyed.

"Okay, well three. Three at the most."

"Liam," I say his name more forcefully but he doesn't turn to look at me. We both know that if he does, he'll stop, and he can't do that.

Hayden glances at me over his shoulder, confused about what was going on.

"Please?" Liam begs her.

Hayden lets out a hefty sigh before shutting her eyes, her hands balled up at her sides to convey the physical containment of her annoyance.

"This is stupid." She grumbles under her breath.

"Just one second," Liam mutters as he snaps the glowstick, allowing a neon green fluorescent light to emit from inside the plastic tube.

"You're paying for that, Dumpbar," Hayden demands, recognizing the familiar crack.

Liam holds the glowstick to Hayden's face. The color bounces off of her skin, brightening up the disconcerted frown she wears as she senses the light in front of her.

"Okay. Open them," Liam orders, and Hayden obliges.

The brown of her iris is barely visible as the reflective lining of her eyes reacts to the direct light source in the low-light conditions of a nightclub. It's a trait no human can possess.

Hayden stares back at us with confusion, unsure of why Liam and I both have expressions of immense dread. She wants answers but I can't give them to her. All I can do is stand there, helpless, wondering if yet again, I'd have to lose my best friend.

~

||| A/N |||

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