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.*･｡. AN ODE TO CLARK KENT .*･｡.
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037.
THE GIRL WHO SPARED
A LIFE.
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——

Lois spent the car ride to the recital glued to Isaac's side. It was kind of embarrassing, but he was one of the only tangible things that felt safe to her, right now. He was tangible and he was real; it was the closest to safe she had felt in a long while. Without Scott, and Stiles, Lois felt safe with Isaac.

   That, and she was stuck in the middle seat.

   They were very close.

   She had been practically sitting in his lap, which was awkward, but not as awkward at the general atmosphere. Mr Westover was dead, they had lost the Darach, and the Argents were mid-fight.

   It was one of those silent fights. Where little words were shared, but both sides knew the other was angry. Perhaps it wasn't the best time, y'know— since a man was dead, but Allison had every right to be frustrated with her father for lying to her, and Chris had every right to be frustrated with Allison for lying to him. They had made an agreement to stay out of the supernatural. No more. No more hunting, no more werwolves. The Argents were out of business; it was the agreement. To stay in Beacon Hills, they were to stay out of everything that happened there. However, neither of them had kept to that agreement, and neither had told the other that they'd been secretly fraternising with the supernatural behind their back; so, yeah. It was an awkward car ride, to say in the least.

But, walking into that recital hall and seeing Scott McCall had to have been the best part of Lois Lane's entire day.

She didn't hesitate to fling herself at him, her arms looping his neck and standing on her tiptoes to get as close as possible. He was the first face she had seen, and thank god he was; Scott McCall had a talent of somehow making everything better.

Although taken aback by her sudden appearance, seemingly out of nowhere after having disappeared for the day, the omega gave no hesitation in holding her to his chest. He could tell that she was unsettled, but decided not to ask about it. Scott was just glad that she had finally shown up — he had been going out of his freaking mind when she and Isaac hadn't returned after Stiles took home Cora, and, upon seeing the lack of her car in the parking lot, Scott had grown concerned that something quite terrible had happened.

He assured himself that she would have gone for a drive, to clear her head, and that she had taken Isaac with her. Scott didn't like it when Lois was out of his sight for longer than usual. Call him over protective, but he didn't care. All Scott cared about was his friends and Lois Lane was one of his best friends. Her safety came above a lot of other things. Most other things, in fact.

   When she had up and vanished, Scott had panicked.

   But now, there she was: in his arms.

He held onto her tightly, shutting his eyes and breathing a sigh through his nose. Relief. Pure relief. Scott held her a little tighter.

Isaac and Allison stumbled through the door, after Matthew and Chris, but both fell to an awkward stop upon seeing Lois in Scott's embrace. Isaac felt his chest swell and deflate, and he forced a nod and a small smile at Allison, who was peering up at him. Like she knew.

Whether it was how he felt about Lois Lane, a feeling that he was still unsure of, or how it felt seeing her with Scott, which she understood well.

Either way, Allison knew.

It hurt her, too.

   They both followed after the two father's, none of which were of Isaac, and he spared a fleeting glance over his shoulder as Lois and Scott broke apart. She looked at him with brighter eyes, her palms on his chest, and she seemed happier. Comforted by his being, like she had never felt so at ease. Isaac quickly looked away.

    "It's going to happen, here." Lois said to Scott, "Tonight."

    "I know," he replied. "Where have you been, all day? And why do you smell like Derek's uncle?"

    "Don't even ask," she muttered, not ready to tell him what it was that she and Isaac had been up to while they were out. No one else knew about the weird dreams she was having, that were most definitely memories, and they would only worry. Lois' hand drifted to the back of her neck subconsciously and she glanced over at the feeling of eyes on her, but found no one looking. Must have been her father. "Where's Stiles and Luna?" She looked about, "No Lydia?"

    "Stiles took Cora home and Luna linked up with him. I asked her to talk to Deaton about something for me, and then she went to get him to tell his dad when Allison called." Noticing her look of questioning, Scott shrugged. "It wasn't important."

   Lois decided to let it slide, for now. She supposed she wasn't all that truthful with him, either. Plus, Scott would tell her what he'd gotten Luna up to, eventually. It was Scott, after all. He always did.

    "Lydia's here," Scott then added.

   He turned around, then frowned. She wasn't there.

    "...somewhere."

   Rolling her eyes, Lois took a step away from him and sighed. "I should go find her, I don't want her finding the next body alone."

   While they hoped that it wouldn't come to that, and that maybe they could stop the ninth sacrifice from happening, Scott nodded in agreement. Lydia was something, and she was able to find dead bodies without even trying or knowing how — since getting bitten by, and later resurrecting, Peter Hale, Lydia had been able to do a lot of weird things. One of which was seeking out dead people. If all failed and they didn't end up stopping this next sacrifice, Lydia would likely be the one finding that out. Finding the bodies had to be horrifying, especially when no one knew why, and Lois didn't want Lydia to go through that alone. It wasn't fair. If Lydia had to find the bodies, the least Lois could do was find them with her. She loved Lydia too much to let her go through that, again.

    "We're going to stop it, Lo." Scott told her, as honestly as he was able to. While he couldn't promise, he could try.

   She didn't seem convinced with a futile nod, and he gently took her wrist in his had and pulled her back to face him. His eyes, as always, were sincere. He never lied.

    "We will."

    "We have to try," she whispered.

Scott nodded, and slowly let go of her wrist. With a small smile in his direction, Lois took a few steps back and then slipped out of the door, heading towards the main building block. If Lydia had gone to the bathroom, it would be in the school somewhere. There weren't many other places for her to be.

Where else could she have gotten to? Lydia wandered off a lot as of late, but she couldn't have gone very far on school grounds. Her car was there, Lois could see it in the parking lot when she crossed the grounds, hair blustering about in the breeze. Storms had been forecast for the area, and she could already feel the winds starting to pick up — they weren't supposed to get too bad, but the air felt damp and heavy.

Wanting to get indoors before it started to rain, Lois jogged over to the main building and held her hair out of her face. It whipped her nose and forehead, and she let out a breath when she pushed through the doors and into the dark hallway. It was deathly quiet.

There was no noise other than the doors slamming shut behind her. All lights were off, and the hall was ridiculously eery. So eery that Lois was positive that there would be something lurking at the end of it, and she should have known far better than to ignore the way her stomach twisted and knotted around her gut. Really, Lois was smart enough than to venture onwards, but her loyalty made her blind. Creepy or not, Lois knew that chances were, Lydia was somewhere in there. Plus — how bad could it be? Lois spent every day in that building, what was so scary about it? What could be in there that was so terrifying? That could hurt her?

Other than the Darach, that is.

    "Lydia?"

   She took a step further inside, "Lydia...?"

   There was no response. Something told the girl to not venture a second step, but she didn't listen.

    "Lydia? You in, here?" Lois chewed on her bottom lip, sucking in a breath of confidence that she really didn't have, right now. She suddenly wished that she had brought someone with her, "Lyds?"

   Lois felt guilty. Maybe if she hadn't left school that day, then the strawberry blonde wouldn't have ended up straying from the pack on her own, or perhaps not even gone to the recital at all. Maybe if Lois had been a better, more attentive, friend over the past few weeks then she would have known better.

   She might know what was going on with Lydia better, she might have helped her figure it out better, she might have even felt better for being the best friends that she was supposed to be. It was like last year; Lois had started being an awful friend when Lydia had been in need, and she was doing it again. Of course, she actually knew what was going on this time — that the supernatural existed and she had been bitten by Peter Hale, ex-alpha — but she still had no idea where it had left her. And Lois hadn't exactly been helping as much as she could have.

   Be a better was friend was clearly back on the to-do list.

    "Lydia?"

    "Lois Lane..."

   Tripping as she went, Lois shot around to see a familiar face in the darkness.

   However, it wasn't the one she had wanted.

    "Miss Blake?" Her brows cinched, lip curled. She didn't like the woman, but she had to respect teachers, unfortunately. "Shouldn't you be at the recital?"

    "Shouldn't you be at the recital, Lois?" Miss Blake responded, a darkness to her tone. "Shouldn't you be helping your friends?"

   Lois hesitated, "What—?"

    "You just had to come find her— didn't you, Lois? Always being such a good friend," she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and let out a low chuckle, "When really you should have just let her go. I guess two won't be so bad."

   Before Lois could question it again, Miss Blake had swiped her fist across the girl's face. She fell to the left and hit the ground with a thump! although it didn't quite strike her cold. Lois squirmed and flipped over onto her front. It gave her little time, but just enough to wave a hand at the water fountain, grunts passing her lips until it exploded and the water shot out of the broken faucet. It soared towards the teacher at an impressive speed, but her aching cheek distracted her slightly — but that slightly affected her aim, and the woman was able to deflect the water with a wave from her palm.

    "I forgot you could do that," Miss Blake cracked her neck to the side, then chuckled rather humourlessly. "I guess you might come in handy, after all." She knelt down by Lois's side.

    "You might have just saved my ass, Lois Lane."

   Her fist collided with Lois' nose.

• • •

A groan passed Lois' lips, as well as a dry cough when she rolled onto her left side. Her face hurt (but what else was new?) and her wrists burned, hands tied behind her back with rope, at quite the funny angle that made her shoulder tingle. She groaned again, why was it always in the face?

    "Impressive," a hazy voice said, "You weren't even out for ten minutes. This sorta thing happen to you, a lot?"

   Lois grit her teeth.

    "Hit me with a brick, next time."

    "I might take you up on that," she retorted, smugly. "Maybe it'll keep you at bay— hm? You seem, to me, like the kinda girl who just doesn't know when to quit fighting." Her eyes trailed to where Lois had tried to flex a hand, "No water in here," she lied. "What are you going to do? Use the blood on your forehead? Lydia might just have some going spare, too."

   That brought Lois' attention to the left of the woman, where in a chair sat Lydia Martin. She was bloody, and bruised, tearstained cheeks as she trembled. She was in and out of consciousness, and the sight of her made Lois shake with anger. This bitch could mess with Lois all she wanted; she could rip Lois apart, limb by limb, a new sacrifice in place of the rest, she could tear Lois' eyes out from their place in her skull if it meant leaving Lydia alone. She could do whatever she wanted to Lois, and Lois would go willingly — if that was what it took, then Lois would do it. Because, while Lois was a heap on the floor, Lydia already had a garrotte around her neck for when she woke up. If Lois didn't take her place, then she was going to kill Lydia. And Lois couldn't have that.

   She yanked against her restraints, but the rope simply cut into her wrists. When Miss Blake laughed, Lois bared her teeth. She may not have been a werewolf, but she wouldn't hesitate to bite.

    "I guess I'll go fetch that brick,"

   Lois spat, "Bitch."

    "You should really respect your teachers more, Lois." Miss Blake drawled with fake sadness, "All of your friends could learn, a thing or two, about manners. For such a nice group of kids, none of you seem to have any."

    "I don't respect murderers," she hissed. "Nice idea, though."

"Murderers?"

    "Yeah, y'know— person who murders people."

   She chuckled, "What murders?"

"All your little sacrificial ones."

    "I'm doing what's necessary; I'm still surprised none of you seem to get it." She sighed out, "You call them sacrifices, but you're not understanding the word. It's derived from the Latin sacrificium," the woman walked closer to Lydia and adjusted the garrotte hanging loosely around her neck. The girl was slowly coming to, her green eyes fluttering, and Miss Blake pulled the garrotte tighter. It made Lois flinched every time she moved it. Lydia let out a whimper and Lois yanked against her restraints. They didn't budge, "An offering to a deity; a sacred rite; a necessary evil."

"Necessary evil?" Lois muttered, frowning. "Nothing about this is necessary!"

    "Stop," Lydia mumbled. "Stop."

    "Oh— I wish I could." Feigning a pout, Miss Blake tauntingly moved Lydia's hair out of the way and leaned in close to her ear. "But you don't know the alphas like I do."

    "Please, stop—"

    "If I give them something they want, then maybe they might just let me go..." she pondered the statement, although she already had it figured out, her gaze travelling from Lydia and over to Lois. The words weren't hard for Lois to decrypt; it was all adding up. What Ethan and Aiden had said, what Peter had told her, what they had inferred. Deucalion had no interest in Derek — instead, Deucalion wanted two other things. Lois was one of them. "Lois Lane could end up being the girl who spared a life. As much as I want you myself, if I hand them what they want, it might just give me the time that I need." Wanted Lois to herself? What did that mean? She adjusted her grip on the garrotte, "But you, Lydia. You're not a sacrifice; you're just a girl who knows too much."

   A pregnant pause, a chuckle.

    "Actually, a girl who knew too much."

"Leave her alone!" Lois screamed. It was rough against her dry throat, and it sounded terribly hoarse. Lois kicked and writhed.

   Lydia moved her head to fight against the garrotte, using shaky hands to pull it away from her neck as she cried. Miss Blake yelled for her to stop fighting against it, to let her finish the process, but it was clear to them all Lydia wasn't going down without as much of a fight as she could possibly give; "Lydia, don't!"

   As the redhead sobbed, Lois felt her breathing grow heavy. Hairs on her neck pricked and stood upward, and her skin gathered it's goosebumps along the surface. Her eyes started to glow a blue, one that was a much deeper blue than they had ever been before.

They competed with Derek Hale's in that moment — the dark, steal blue cutting through the darkness. Miss Blake was caught off guard, and the tightness of the garrotte loosened just enough for Lydia's lips to part and release a sound that Lois had only heard a year back. A sound that was loud, and alarming, and haunting; it was a siren of a cry, something burning from within, a deathly like wail. Lydia screamed.

It knocked Lois from her angered trance, and her deep blue eyes snapped shut. The scream was so loud that being so close caused her brain to pulse and her ears to bleed.

Lois almost passed out, while Miss Blake seemed unaffected.

She was more confused, bewildered perhaps, by the scream that passed Lydia's lips.

   It wasn't human.

    "Unbelievable." She muttered, walking around and in front of the girl. "You have no idea what you are, do you?" It was silent as Lydia trembled, "The wailing woman. A banshee, right before my eyes."

   A banshee? Harbinger of death? When Lydia had been bitten, it hadn't turned her into a werewolf — they had all assumed that it would be nothing, if she wasn't the kanima. But when she started to seek out death, there was clearly something going on; a banshee she had been, this entire time. Lois had heard about them when she had listened to Stiles on his many mythological rants. It made a lot of sense, really. How had they not figured it out?

    "You're just like me, Lydia. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it."

    "She's nothing like you!" Lois hissed.

    "It's too bad, though..." ignoring the other girl, Miss Blake let out a dejected sigh and returned to the garrotte. She smirked at it, "And too late."

    "No, please—!"

    "One last philosopher..."

    "Stop it!" The knife made Lois angrier, desperate. "Stop!"

She started to sob, unable to do anything of help to her friend other than watch her choke. Lois was helpless. Instead of stopping her, Lois had to sit and watch. It was sick. Lydia's cheeks were now purple, she was dying, and Miss Blake was making Lois watch. The restraints around her wrists were loosening painfully slowly, and it was impossible for her to break free in time. Lydia was going to die and Lois was going to have to watch. Her chest started to constrict as she started to panic, begging for Lydia's innocent life to be spared — where was everyone? Where was Scott? Where was her father? Stiles? Allison? Where was Isaac? Could no one hear their cries?

"Please! Stop!" She screamed, "Stop!"

    "Drop it!"

The new voice made Lois flinch, although her body instinctively relaxed at the familiar tone. She breathed, "Uncle Noah?"

Miss Blake smirked, loosening her hold on Lydia once again and twisting the knife in her hand. One moment Jennifer was holding it, the next it was flying from her grasp and impaling itself in the sheriff's chest. Lois screamed out for him.

Fighting harder, Lois grit her teeth and wiggled her wrists. Now wasn't the time to give up. Her best friend was loosing all sorts of consciousness from asphyxiation, and her second father figure was laying on the ground with a knife in his chest while Miss Blake was headed towards him to finish the job. Come on, Lois! she grunted as she sniffled, come on!

   Little trails of blood were leaking from her ears, slowly dribbling down her neck when Scott McCall entered — growling, eyes neon amber, claws out. Miss Blake looked amused, surprised.

   Lois kept fighting her restraints as Scott was thrown across the room by the wave of pressure from Miss Blake's hands. He hit the desks stacked at the back with a crash! and slid down to the floor. A groan passed his lips, and Lois was sure she heard his ribs crunch.

When a river of crimson spilled from Scott's mouth and Stiles was locked out of the classroom by the desk Miss Blake sent in his direction, and the woman started towards Noah again, Lois felt something within her snap! It was as though she lost it, whatever it was, and her body was consumed by a huge pressure. It sat heavy on her chest and then lightened, and her steal blue eyes and the tattoo on her collarbone both started to glow bright white.

She had never felt anything like this, before.

Her restraints snapped with a single tug, and she shot to her feet, as if she felt no pain at all. Lois didn't even need to look for water.

She sensed it.

   No water? Liar.

A wave of her hand created a wave of water from the half-drank bottle in Miss Blake's desk, and it flew towards the woman with so much precision, it was like Lois had perfected every technique that needed mastering with her power. She had no idea how; her body moved before her mind.

Jennifer swung around just in time to dodge the water. With one look at Lois, she seemed to fall short and her mouth dropped open in shock. Like she knew something, something she had just realised and likely wasn't going to share — not that she had the time to do so, regardless. Lois' body was already redirecting the water back at the teacher in a lucid state, unable to stop.

It was all instinct, defence.

Anger.

Lois was angry.

That anger towards Jennifer was fuelled into the water balls she shot, who had a harder time avoiding them than Scott.

But she gave it her best. She deflected several, firing them back at the girl, only to have them thrown again. And again. And again, and again.

Lois had always been a fighter, and this new state filled her with a fight that seemed to never die. Not until Jennifer finally sent a force of air large enough to knock Lois into the desks and chairs along with Scott, where the metal jabbed into her back painfully.

"Lois!" Noah cried when she groaned, smacking the floor hard.

By the time Lois had gotten up, a window had smashed and the two had disappeared; Jennifer Blake and Noah Stilinski. As Stiles pushed the desk away and stumbled into the room, his father and teacher had gone.

"Dad?"

   Lois' eyes stopped glowing, flickering off like a light switch, and returned to their normal brown. Her tattoo dimmed to its dainty, black outline and her knees gave out as her body registered its own weight, again. Scott moved to hold her up, watching her blink to try and stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. She was weak, like a drained battery. Whatever that was, it had left her with no juice. Lois needed to charge back up. She still couldn't believe it.

Jennifer Blake was the one committing human sacrifices; she was the Darach.

Their English teacher? Really?

  
——

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