"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GUYS KIDNAPPED JACKSON. This is like a whole new level of idiotic." I exclaim, still in total disbelief as I follow Stiles up the hill, towards the stolen police transport van that sits hidden at the top of Beacon Hills preserve. "If your dad finds out about this he might actually kill you."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you, but what other option did we have?! He tried to kill Danny." When he tells me that fact, I quickly realize just how far gone Jackson must be when he turns into the Kanima.

"I don't know, this just kinda seems like the worst possible plan. Do you really think we can keep him contained?" I ask the question as I reach out and grab onto the back of his jacket, trying to steady myself as we walk in the dark.

"Yeah. Yeah, it should be fine. Scott and Allison are keeping watch right now and then me and you can take over for a bit. It will all be fine." It sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than he is me. But I take his word for it. "Anyway, how was work last night? I was kinda surprised you weren't blowing up my phone wanting every last detail. You know, like you usually do."

My mouth falls open, and he grabs onto my arm when I stumble. "Whoa, hey. Be careful." Stiles chuckles, eyes narrowing in on me. "Did something happen?"

I nod. "Yeah, you could say that. I kinda have to tell you guys something. Nothing bad or anything, but— let's just get this over with first, okay? My shit can wait."

He stops in his tracks and shakes his head, turning fully to face me now. "Uh, no it absolutely cannot. Tell me."

With a reluctant sigh I open up my mouth to tell him everything— well, everything except the part about Derek Hale and I somewhat bonding over coffee that went cold— but as I go to tell him all about my grandmother and her connection to the supernatural, my eyes widen in slight horror when I notice that the back doors of the police van are burst wide open.

"Uh, Stiles, I thin—"

"Hey, no, no fair if we have to tell you everything then you have to tell us everything, that's how it works, okay? So start talk—"

"Stiles!" I wince as he jumps back as I cut him off, my tone sharp. But it was the only way to get him to shut up and listen. "Look!"

I notice the look of dread in his eyes as he turns around and comes to the realization that Jackson is gone. "Oh, we're screwed. We're so screwed," he mumbles, before grabbing onto me as we run towards the scene.

He knocks on the window of Allison's car, and both she and Scott wake from their slumber. I don't dare let my mind wonder what they could have been getting up to while Jackson was getting free. It's pretty obvious that it wasn't PG-13.

"You guys might wanna come take a lot at this."

Stiles and I give them a moment to gather themselves and when they finally come look at the empty vehicle, it becomes clear that we're all way out of our depth.

"I have to tell my father." Allison says hesitantly, knowing there isn't much choice. "Scott. He's going to kill someone."

Scott nods in return, and my heart aches as I see the defeated look in my best friends eyes. "Okay, tell him. Tell him everything."

"Scott, I gotta tell mine too. And you should tell your grandma." I'm quiet as Stiles motions towards me. Now doesn't seem like the best time to get into it, but I know that soon I'll have no choice.

"This is all my fault." As Scott speaks, it's clear to see what a heavy burden he carries on his shoulders.

I shake my head. "Scott, no... none of this is your fault."

Allison nods in agreement and adds, "It's not. But we have to tell them. We're just a bunch of teenagers. We can't handle this."

"You're right." Agrees the werewolf; the glue that holds us a together.

"How are you gonna make your dad believe all this?" Allison questions Stiles to which he shrugs, "I don't know."

"Well, speaking from experience, it's easier if you have a visual, you know?" I interjected, glancing from Stiles and then to Scott in a sort of subtle suggestion. "The glowing eyes and sharp teeth are kinda hard to not take seriously."

Scott turns away for a brief second then turns back to face us all, eyes blazing in a golden glow that cuts through the dark night. "He'll believe me."

—————————

There isn't much said as Scott, Stiles and I make the journey towards the police station in Stiles'  worn-out jeep. I sit in the back and watch them, debating on whether or not now is the right time to bring up the events of the previous night.

We pull up in front of the building, engine quickly turned off. Stiles turns to Scott. "You ready for this, buddy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready. Are you?"

The breath it take is shaky, but I can't hold it in for much longer. Though it's not technically lying, keeping the truth from them doesn't feel right. "Guys, I have something to tell you. Like, kind of a big thing, actually."

Their conversation stops, and in a strangely perfect unison, they turn around swiftly in their seats and cast their gaze upon me.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Scott of course is concerned, a true testament to his nature.

"I'm fine. It's just... okay, don't freak out, but my grandma kinda already knows about... all of this." I wave a hand in front of Scott, and purse my lips. "You know, the supernatural, werewolves. You, Scott— she knows about you, though that one was kinda my fault."

"I have so many questions right now," Stiles utters, staring with his mouth wide opened, brows furrowed.

"She also knows Derek. Really well, apparently." I mumble the words and glance down towards my hand that fidget in my lap.

"Wait, did you just say Derek? As in Hale?!"

I roll my eyes at the question Stiles asks, even though the answer is blatantly obvious. "Yeah, I mean Derek Hale, dumbass— who else would I mean?"

"Oh, I'm the dumbass? Seriously?" He retorts, a scoff following. Stiles was one of my best friends in the entire world, and he was also the person I bickered most with. That would probably never change. If anything it was our own weird way of showing affection.

He was a dumbass; my dumbass.

Scott sighs, interjecting before the back and forth goes any further. "Cassia, I don't— Can you just start at the beginning, please?"

"I don't know too much," I begin, leaning forward. Stiles gaze softens now. "I was working last night and Derek came in and— it was like he was coming to her for advice. I don't know what they talked about or what he wanted, but she told me she was friends with his mother before she died. I guess she's known him since he was a kid. She seemed pretty fond of him, which was weird."

"Is she...?" Stiles raises a brow and I shake my head.

"Supernatural? No, I don't think so. She said something about being an ally. A protector. But I haven't spoken to her since, she was gone when I woke up this morning."

"How did Derek seem when you saw him?" Scott questions, curious.

"Honestly?" I pause, take in a deep breath as I think back to the night before, the image of Derek in front of me still clear in my mind. Scott watches me, and I worry that he can sense the way my emotions change. "Weirdly human."

Human. That's exactly what I'd come to realize. That despite the supernatural strength and abilities, the alpha was just like the rest of us. With fears and feelings all of his own.

"As opposed to a homicidal werewolf? Yeah, that is kind weird." Stiles teases, and I give a forced, huffed out laugh, grateful that he can't read my thoughts.

Quickly I make an attempt to steer the conversation away from Derek.

"Look, I-I'll speak to her as soon as I get the chance and maybe, just maybe she might be able to help us. But right now we've got to go tell your dad, Stiles."

They both nod in agreement and we share a look we've shared a million times before. It's a look that says that no matter what, we'll be okay. Because we have each other.

I trial behind them after we get out of the car, letting Stiles lead the way into the station. It feels like a lifetime ago I was here last, when in reality it had only been a couple of weeks. Back then I was in the dark, mad at my friends for keeping secrets. Now I knew everything and I wasn't sure which one I preferred.

"Can you buzz us in? I gotta see my dad." Stiles motions towards the locked door as he speaks to the guy at front desk. He opens the door for us and we prepare for what should come next, but we're soon taken by surprise.

One by one our mouths open in shock when we walk in to find Jackson Whittemore sitting there, with his father standing to the side. It's shouldn't be all that surprising;. it seems exactly like something he would do.

"Scott, Stiles. Cassia. Perfect timing." Mr. Stilinski begins, and I can't help but to feel pity. He looks stressed, tired. It can't be easy having to deal with a crime your son technically committed. "Have you met Jackson's father, Mr. David Whittemore? Esquire."

Jackson leans forward with a smug grin. "That means lawyer."

"Yeah, we know what it means, assh—"

"Cassia! That's enough." My words are cut short by Stiles' dad, Noah, who'd often been there for me as a child more than my own father had. I step back instantly and look down at my feet.

"Now look, your name wasn't even mentioned in this and I don't even think I wanna know at what point these two idiots dragged you into this mess, but you can wait outside. I'll call your grandmother when I'm done here." He's stern, and despite my desire to argue, I don't want to cause him anymore trouble. I respect him too much.

I nod instead and give my friends one last helpless look, hoping that this wont be as bad for them as it seems like it's going to be.

———————————

The wait feels impossibly long as my foot taps against the floor; anxiety threatening to swallow me whole. I can only imagine what's going on behind the closed door, and none of it is good.

The moment it opens, I spring up, hands struggling to stay still. I see Scott first, then Stiles. Both followed by Sheriff Stilinski.

"You three. My office. Now. And do not move until an adult comes to pick you up." He tells us, the last part directed towards Scott and myself.

We hurry along, glad for the privacy the office provides. I turn to them instantly as the door closes behind them. "So? Am I gonna be visiting you guys in jail? Cause I've got to be honest, Stilinski, I don't really think orange is your colour. Scott could totally pull it off though."

Scott gives me an amused smile, looking flattered. Stiles on the other hand rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his fathers desk. "Haha. No, no jail visits. Just a unrealistic restraining order."

"But you all go to the same school, how is that even going to work?" My expression is puzzled, though I'm glad there weren't more severe consequences for their actions. As crazy as the plan was, they were just trying to help.

Stiles shrugs. "No idea."

"I have to call Allison, let her know the plan has changed." Scott let's out a heavy sigh and pulls out his phone, putting it on speaker after a few moments.

"If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing, then he probably doesn't know someone's controlling him." Her words spark a sense of sympathy within me, and it's hard to believe. Never did I think I'd feel sorry for Jackson Whittemore, but here we were.

Scott looks at me, then at Stiles. "Or he doesn't remember."

"What if it's the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles proposes the idea, and I walk around to sit in Sheriff Stilinski's chair.

"A fugue state?" Allison questions.

Scott thinks it over in his head. "He'd have to forget everything— the murder."

"And the blood. He'd have to forget getting rid of the blood." As I say the words, the vision of him coated in crimson invades my mind. My stomach turns.

Even if he got out of this, would he forever be plagued with secondhand guilt?

"But he had help with one thing— the video." Stiles states.  "And someone else helped him forget that."

Scott nods. "Whoever's controlling him."

"Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?" Allison doesn't seem so sure, but I am. For all his flaws I couldn't imagine any part of Jackson wanting to hurt Danny.

"He thinks he's still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing." Explains Stiles.

Allison ponders on the other end of the line for a moment. "So do we try to convince him he's not?"

"If it helps us find out who's controlling him, then yeah."  Insists Scott.

"Do you think he'll talk to us after what we did?" As Allison asks the question, I slowly shake my head despite the fact that she can see me.

"Yeah, it's us. He'll talk to us. Right?" Stiles sounds hopeful. I glance towards him, eyes narrowed as my finger points between him and Scott.

"Yeah, except for the fact that neither of you are allowed within fifty feet of him." And honestly, I doubt he'd talk to them regardless.

There's no time for any further discussion. Stiles' dad opens the door and looks right at me, sitting in his chair as thought it's where I belong. With a nervous grin I place my hands on the table and push onto my feet, fixing his papers back into place.

"Cassia, Scott. It's time to go."