a novel approach

Her stomach churned as she approached the tall metal gates, fiddling with the sleeves of a light pink sweater she wore. Deep down, she had a feeling that she would come to regret this decision she had made, it wasn't the smartest one she could admit, but at least it was hers. And that was more than what could be said for the rest of her life at the moment.

The bite had healed, and though she had tried to avoid looking at it, and herself in general, she'd caught a glimpse of it while getting dressed for the first time since leaving the hospital when she had locked herself in her room with the request that nobody sees her, nor talk to her. Perhaps in a few days, she would want to talk to them again and begin the process of learning control, all of them knew that time would have to come. She couldn't learn it on her own, she had considered it, but it wasn't possible. As it stood, she had no interest in accepting what had happened to her, she wasn't prepared to just move on from it and make the most of the life that was made for her.

Perhaps the man she had come to visit could give her some perspective.

Even she was surprised that in her time of need it would be her father whom she turned to. Just a few months ago she shivered at the mention of his name, reminded of his betrayal, no matter how much he had told them it was for the sake of his daughters, it was a betrayal. Kinsey tried to put that aside in her mind, she didn't have much else right now, there was nobody else to talk to besides him. Chris was still on his hunt for her mother with the Calaveras. Derek claimed to be in South America, but if she knew anything about her cousin, by now he would be somewhere else, perhaps something had claimed his attention, dragging him to another place. She hadn't called him yet to announce her news, it didn't seem like news that should be announced, and not on a phone call, it would bring him straight back to Beacon Hills. And even she didn't want to be here right now let alone him or Chris, who was still yet to find out his niece had died two nights ago. It was all a part of her grieving process. When she had come to terms with it herself, then perhaps it would be time to tell those she loved about it. 

She walked through the cold halls of the building, following one of the orderlies, her skin was crawling just being here, she had heard plenty of things about this place and what happens in it. She had been here before, but somehow it became creepier every time. She could envision all of the things that Malia and Stiles had told her. This seemed like the last place someone like her should have been, had they found out about what she was, they would do what Gerard did to her grandmother all those years ago. She would become a test subject, trying to figure out all of the things that made her as "rare" and "special" as everyone claimed she was. She didn't tell them that she was coming to visit her father, only that she was one of the people who'd put him in this place, the less detail, the better. 

"You should stay outside of the cell." The orderly warned her as they stopped outside of Peter's cell, the girl lingered down the hall, not quite having caught up to the orderly, she had been too focused on looking around Eichen House, peering into the cells where all kinds of supernatural creatures stared back at her, some reaching out to touch her, driven stir crazy by their time in a mental institution staring at the same four walls. "He can be a little... feral." The orderly added, the brunette found her way to the entrance of her father's cell, she stood looking at him, Peter kept his head down, uninterested in whoever had come to see him. 

"He isn't going to hurt me." She reassured the orderly, her voice raising her father's head as the surprise washed across his face, the last visitor he had expected today, or ever, was his youngest daughter. The one with the moral compass, the one who had been most hurt by what he did, she was the only one who truly believed he had changed his ways. 

Without argument, the orderly opened the cell, the metal clattering echoed through the building as she stepped into the cell, the churning of her stomach worsening. She nodded at the man, her signal for the two of them to be left alone, she was surprised how trusting the man was to leave a teenage girl with a werewolf he had just described as feral, but if there was one thing Stiles and Malia had told her about Eichen, it was that nobody here cared about what happened. Despite it being her request, the sound of the door locking behind her startled the girl, her heart beating in her ears, louder than ever before, this time when she felt so nervous, she had to deal with each of her senses telling her about it too. Her own scent. Her hearing allowing her to hear the blood in her body flowing. These were some of the things she would have to, but didn't want to, begin to get used to.

Peter looked up at the teenage girl standing before him, her arms wrapped around herself, cold in the deepest depths of the closed unit, a suitable place for a man of her father's habits. Kinsey didn't look at her father, her eyes were on the floor, realizing now that this was truly what she'd chosen to do with her night, to visit her father with the intention of confessing and discussing an abrupt and unwanted change in her life. She hadn't thought it through, the fact that with it, she would have to say the words aloud. 

"Hello, Angel." He greeted her, a cold chill running up the girl's spine, reminded of that dream of a girl who thought she was dead only to wake up to a nightmare instead. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her father asked. The girl looked up through her eyelashes, her hazel eyes pierced a million knives into her as she began thinking of all the things that he had done, a list that should have had her running in the opposite direction. She had put him in this place so she didn't have to see him, but desperation was a funny, ironic thing. "Silent treatment, huh? And I was worried you might have changed over these few months." Peter mumbled to himself, the girl capable of hearing that mumble, something she might not have been able to do before. He noticed it, that slight perking of her ears, proving that she had in fact heard him talking so lowly. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter as he analyzed her. "Something has changed about you," Peter said, the girl's eyes meeting the floor again. 

There was clear confusion in his tone, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, he told her as the girl refrained from clueing him in on the details. He looked over her, and somehow, Kinsey seemed completely different, yet somehow the exact same. Peter was at a loss, the girl bored of playing the guessing game as she looked back through her eyelashes at the man again, this time with a pair of glowing golden eyes that had him falling back with shock, his back hitting the cold wall of his cell, the last thing he had expected to see of his little girl.

"Oh." He muttered, sitting forward again, staring deep into the golden eyes that stared at him. It wasn't a new sight for him, he had been around plenty of werewolves in his life, of course. But all of those people didn't come close to this. This was his daughter, his youngest one at that, he was just another person who knew how much she didn't want this. Of course he was surprised to see that in just a few months, that had changed. Or had it?

"I die and that's all you have to say to me?" Kinsey questioned the man. "Oh?" She repeated.

"Well, I'm sorry dear but we've never really had a typical father-daughter relationship. Perhaps I can take the blame for that, and Kate, of course. Does she know about this?" He asked, the wolf shook her head. "Does anyone?" She nodded as he began listing off people, beginning to come up with a better idea of what had happened based on those who knew, it had become clear the views his daughter once had were still the same, this wasn't something she wanted, he should have known that his daughter was too stubborn to be swayed so easily. "How?" 

"A Kanima." She deadpanned, the man groaning at the thought of another Kanima running the town rugged. At least this time it wasn't him to blame. "Technically." She added, drawing more curiosity from her father who furrowed a brow. "Her tail hit me. It was the bite that killed me, at least that was what Melissa told me. Theo, you don't know him, made a tourniquet that could've saved me. But..."

"But?"

"They panicked." She told him, relaying what she had been told. How they all panicked, thinking they had lost her for good, not wanting that to happen, they acted upon instincts. They did what they thought would save her, not what they thought she would want. "Stiles told him to do it. So he did. He bit me. And now I'm- I'm a..."

"Werewolf." Peter finished for the struggling girl. 

"I'm a werewolf." She repeated. Words that would forever haunt her. Ones that would never feel right coming from her mouth. She was a werewolf. A were-angel, if they were to be technical, she was a supernatural abomination. A powerful one at that. And power... it attracts trouble.

·❥·

Kinsey Argent kept her head down as she fiddled with the hems of her sleeve, strolling up a long path that lead to the Stilinski house, a house she had avoided for the past couple of days, taking her time to wrap her head around things. While she still hadn't done that, she knew she couldn't avoid it forever, and she certainly couldn't avoid her boyfriend. For the second time today Kinsey found herself at a loss for words, unsure how to confront her situation, it wasn't one she'd found herself in before. Dying and coming back to life as a werewolf, that is. 

There had been many times when she had had to confront Stiles about something that had put a strain on their relationship. Perhaps too many times. But here she was again, prepared to do it all over again because by now, she was convinced this was normal for relationships. Based on all of the relationships she had seen, it was normal to have problems like this, supernatural ones, of course. She didn't exactly have a healthy relationship around her that she could inspire to have. The closest she had come was her aunt Victoria and Chris, but even that ended in tragedy. It was no surprise that the girl had a poor outlook on love and relationships. 

The new werewolf was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to realize that Stiles's Jeep was missing from the driveway, by the time she had managed to push her nerves aside she had already reached the front door, unsure whether she should knock or not. She was always here, it was practically her second home. But after being absent from the pack's life for a few days it felt as though she should reintroduce herself to barging freely into her friend or boyfriend's homes.

Kinsey tried not to overthink it, she had done enough of that lately. She walked into the home as if it were any other day, though she was coming to visit her boyfriend and find out what trouble he had gotten himself or the pack into since the last time they spoke, which was usually no more than a few hours. 

Noah was sat at the table, his head buried into a case as he heard the front door open, raising his head slightly as he looked into the hallway, expecting to see his son walking into the house, not the girl who had been M.I.A since her dismissal from the hospital. He jumped up at the sight, the werewolf providing a weak smile, waiting for the inevitable question that she had avoided being asked by her father, he wasn't thoughtful enough to think to ask. 

The man greeted her softly as he opened his arms for her, asking how she was doing, given what had happened. She lied through her teeth as she told him that she was fine, that she felt better, a slight lie, at least. Part of her felt better, she was a little more accepting toward the idea now, or the fact that whether she liked it or not there was no changing what she was anymore. Peter had made that clear to her. This was her life now. She was a werewolf. And nothing could change that fact, it was the destiny set for her before she had even taken her first breath.

"You're a brave kid, Kinsey." The man reassured her with a genuine smile. "If anyone can do this, it's gonna be you." He told her as she smiled weakly, touched by the confidence he had in her, it was the kind of confidence she wished she had in herself. "Now go on before he finds out that I kept you from him any longer." He playfully nudged the girl, nodding toward upstairs, much like the werewolf he was under the impression that Stiles was home, potentially fiddling with a new picture on his crime board.

Kinsey walked into the boy's bedroom to find it empty, dark, and untouched. The bed was still made. His crime board supplies still neatly tucked away as they awaited the next time he went into his spiral of taping pictures to the board, scribbling away his latest theory. She furrowed a brow as she stepped further into the room, stopping in front of that very crime board, noticing something was missing from it. The Desert Wolf. Her name was gone. Erased. As though he had given up on the idea, if not him, then Malia. 

She really had been off the grid for these past few days. 

Her fingers trailed over the crime board, leading to his desk. Everything felt so different. She felt a stronger attachment to everything. A part of becoming a werewolf that Scott had neglected to mention before. It was as though she could feel every emotion that had ever been felt between these four walls. Some of it felt great, euphoric in fact. And others, others haunted. Some of the feelings in this room she knew she was the cause of, she could practically see it now, the times in the past when she had stood in this room and said things she wished she hadn't. When they had all said some now arguably questionable things. 

Kinsey's eyes trailed to the wall, an array of photos tacked onto his wall. In the midst of all of the old photos sat one that stuck out to her. Not because it was of her and Stiles with some memory that filled her with joy, though many of those fit that criteria, this photo was different. It was her and Allison. The two of them smiling, neither paying attention to the fact anyone had captured it in a photograph. She had never noticed it before. After spending almost every day in this room, a simple act like that had gone over her head. 

A warmth filled her heart as a smile grew across her face, stepping back from the wall of photos. Her eyes moved to the next piece of Stiles's room. His collection of duct tape sitting on his desk waiting for the next time his car broke down, which was almost daily lately. She laughed softly to herself as she picked one of them up, thinking that she would be reminded of the time he had given her one the first time they properly spoke, instead, she was filled with a feeling of dread. A feeling that something was wrong. An overwhelming instinct washed over her. 

Stiles Stilinski lifted the hood of his broken down Jeep, smoke filling the air, smothering the boy as he coughed, waving his arm around to try and gain some visibility. He pulled his duct tape out of his pocket, ripping it with his teeth as he tried not to spit out a string of profanities, frustrated that it had happened again when all he wanted to do was to go home after hours of studying the topic of wendigos with Malia at school. He was exhausted, as he had been for days. Of course, he hadn't slept, he had been awake for days on ending, watching the clock, waiting for a text from Kinsey, hoping that when he checked his phone her name would be there. But so far, it was yet to happen. Reading the thousand-page bestiary had been his last resort for a distraction, after it was over he wasn't sure what he would do to fill up the time that he waited for Kinsey to want to talk to anyone again. 

Just as the boy wrapped the tape around another hose, he felt a piercing pain in his shoulder, a pained scream escaping him, rattling in his chest as he felt the sharp object dig deeper into his skin. His attacker's arms were wrapped around his neck as he tried to fight them off, their other hand reached out in front of his face, a small mouth-like hole in their palm with teeth as sharp as the ones his best friend bore. Stiles' hand wrapped around the attacker's wrist, trying to keep it away from him as he reached for the wrench he had left on the hood of his Jeep.

The two of them struggled, moving back and forth as the attacker tried to pull him back, trying to further hurt him with the mouths he could generate on any part of his body. Stiles threw his head back, heading but the perpetrator, buying himself a split second to grab the wrench from his Jeep as he swung, connecting the metal with the man's face. Donovan. He finally saw as the man hit the floor with his face bloody.

His heart beat loudly in his ears as he fled the scene, running back toward the school, seemingly the safest place for him to run, he crashed through the doors, his wrench still in hand as he ran through the school halls aimlessly, unsure whether to run and hide, sure that Donovan wouldn't be far behind him. Soon he found himself at the library doors again, pulling at the handles in the hopes they would let him in until his eyes landed on the keycard reader, a relevantly new system to go with the remodeled library, something that he never thought would put his life at risk. He quickly swiped it, rushing into the building.

The Wendigo was closer behind him than he thought, the sound of the doors outside clattering against the wall startled him as he searched for a place to hide in a room still under construction where his best option was behind a bookcase. Within seconds of the boy hiding behind one, the sound of another card being swiped sounded in his ears, the doors opening, Donovan inside, he was determined, persistent on hurting, if not killing him.

As he hid with the wrench tightly clasped in his hand, Stiles heard his phone vibrate, he patted himself down to find it, the question of where it was already answered by Donovan. 

"You dropped your phone." The man told him, holding it in his hand. "It's Kinsey. Should I text her back?" He asked as Stiles sighed lowly, the dread filling him. After days of his girlfriend not texting him, this was the time she finally did. When his life was on the line. When he needed her and her fighting skills the most. He remained quiet, his head resting on the bookcase, praying a miracle would come his way. Where was his guardian angel when he needed her? Despite Stiles' lack of speaking, Donovan continued to talk to him. "You don't really know who I am, do you?" He asked the boy who watched him from the shadows, Donovan's back facing him. "Maybe you heard about my father. Did your dad tell you about him? Did Sheriff Stilinski ever tell you about the time he was still deputy and how his partner got shot in a shoot-out? Did he tell you a bullet shattered my dad's T-9 vertebra? Went right through his spinal cord? Know what that means?"

Stiles did know what it meant, but Donovan continued his tale, his perspective on his father and the Sheriff's situation. His father was paralysed from the waist down, everything below his waist rendered completely useless, not just his legs. Donovan betted that Stilinski had told his Stiles at least some of it, but he had probably left out the part where he had been sitting in a car calling for backup while his own dad went in alone. "Did he tell you that he was too scared... too much of a frightened little bitch to go in after him? Or do scared little bitches not tell their little bitch sons about their failures?" Donovan questioned, shouting as the hiding boy grew more angered. It was his soft spot. It always had been. And it felt like Donovan knew just how to get to him, how to rile him up enough for him to come out and fight, proving that neither he nor his father was a frightened little bitch.

Donovan continued to antagonise him, Stiles fighting the urge, telling himself that he would stay hidden, that he would fight temptation. His impulsive decisions had cost him enough lately. The boy watched as Donovan began ascending the staircase, his chance to find an escape route. With careful steps Stiles began moving, watching the upstairs level, listening closely to follow the man who was up there, he kept his back against the bookcase as he waited for the right moment.

Just as he was about to move a hand reached through the bookcase, grabbing him by the throat as he struggled to fight it, pulled through the bookshelf as every book flew on top of him, losing his wrench amongst the wreckage. The two struggled back and forth, just like they had outside, Donovan had him shoved against the scaffolding as Stiles elbowed him in the face, knocking the Wendigo back, freeing himself once again as he began climbing the steel bars.

Donovan quickly pulled himself back off of the ground, grabbing Stiles's legs, trying to pull him back down. "Don't worry, Stiles. I'm not gonna kill you." Donovan said as he tugged on the boy's legs, Stiles looking down with him in fear as his eyes turned white and his voice distorted, he was much more than just a Wendigo. He was a chimera. "I'm just gonna eat your legs."

Stiles continued to struggle, trying to kick Donovan off of his leg as he reached to grab the higher bar, hoping to continue his climb. Unable to reach it, he saw a pin with a ring just above him, one of the only things holding up the entire structure they stood on. He grasps as he reached for it, a further struggle with Donovan's weight on his leg, but finally he reached it, pulling it out, hearing the first of many clatters on the floor below. Several metal bars began falling from the structure as Stiles kept himself close to the scaffolding, too scared to look down, but he had felt Donovan release his leg, the weight lifted from him.

The clanging continued as Stiles closed his eyes tightly, all until he heard the sound of a groan, a pained groan that had escaped Donovan's mouth, the sound of skin slicing, of his entrails being imapled by something. Perhaps one of the several metal pipes that he had released. When Stiles opened his eyes again they were opened wide, fear filling him more than it already had, terrified of what he would see when he turned around. And nothing could have prepared him.

He turned his head, looking down at the floor beneath him where Donovan stood with his head raised, blood gushing from his mouth, dead behind the eyes that looked straight into his. A set of claws buried deep into his chest. On the other end of them? His girlfriend. Her eyes flashing from a glowing, warm yellow to a cold, steel blue as she stole the life of an innocent with no regret, no remorse. Not a single thought had been given to the action when she released her claws as if she had been taught to do that, nothing had been running through her head as she pushed through into Donovan's chest. It was an animal instinct. The instinct of a werewolf. A killer. Because that was what she was now. A killer.

As she sharply removed her bloody claws from the man's chest his lifeless body dropped down at her feet, her lips pulled into a sadistic smirk as she looked down at the body with her glowing blue eyes. A face that mirrored that of her father. But as that light faded, so did her enjoyment in killing a man. The reality settling in. Hitting her like a truck.

"Oh, my God." She mumbled, looking down at her bloody hands. "I-I killed him." She murmured as she looked up, her boyfriend now in front of her, looking at her with wide eyes, her hands now in his as he cupped them, the blood on his hands too. "I killed someone."

"Kinsey-"

"I killed someone." She repeated frantically, her hands trembling. "I killed him, Stiles. I killed-" 

"Kinsey, listen to me. You need to go." He insisted, his blood hands moving to her shoulders as he kept a tight grip on her, ensuring that she looked him in the eyes as he provided the girl with a set of clear instructions that she must listen to. "Go. Go back to my house, shower. Wait for me. Do not talk to anyone. Do not tell anyone what happened here. Nobody ever needs to know you were here tonight, okay? Do you understand?" He asked as the girl nodded, her eyes filled with stinging tears as she agreed. She understood. "Go now."

Dried blood stained the boy's hands as he walked into his quiet home, his father at work, Kinsey hopefully upstairs, clean, in one piece after following every instruction he had given her clearly. At least that part of the night had to go right. He couldn't understand it. Any of it. It didn't make sense. He stood at the bottom of the stairs with a hand on the bannister as he stared at his feet, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand how Donovan's body had disappeared.

After providing his girlfriend with clear instructions to run, he waited, he lurked in the shadows, sitting in his Jeep as he waited for the deputies who had tracked his silent phone call to arrive. He had sat anticipating a coroner van to approach the school and retrieve Donovan's body, but within minutes of the deputy entering the building, he walked back out, calling. ita 653. A prank call. Of course, he was confused, unsure how the officer hadn't seen the wreckage of steel bars, the blood, or most importantly- the dead body.

He had walked back into the library, convinced that something was wrong, and it was. There was no sign of the struggle he had been in earlier. There was no pool of blood on the floor or a lifeless body in the middle of it. It was as though he had never been here. As though Kinsey hadn't killed someone here. His brows furrowed, his eyes scanning the room as they landed on neatly stacked steel bars, certainly not in the place they had been left. He stepped closer to it, stroking his finger on the metal, his hand coming away wet with fresh blood. 

Someone had gone in after them. Someone had cleaned up a crime scene for them. Someone in this town knew what he and Kinsey had done. 

Stiles walked into his bedroom to find his girlfriend sitting on his bed, her hair wet, some of his old clothes thrown over her body as she pulled her knees to her chest. Her hands were still shaking as they wrapped around her legs, her head buried as she replayed what had happened over and over. She had tracked Stiles to the school with the fear that something bad was going on. She'd found his Jeep in the parking lot with the hood up and duct tape resting on it, but he was gone. She had texted him, asking where he was, but she had failed to get a reply. Her senses alerted her to a trail of blood on the floor. Her senses had allowed her to track him to the library. And that was it. As soon as she had walked through those doors to see Stiles clinging to the scaffolding and the chimera at the bottom, about to grab him again, all she had seen was red. Before she knew it she was in a piping hot shower with the water at her feet the same shade of red. 

He sat down beside the girl, placing a hand on her knee as she finally raised her head, revealing her puffy eyes that were filled with fear and regret, worsened by his words. We need to talk.

In the early hours of the morning the couple stood before the crime board in the boy's room, the two of them speechless. Both of them finally clean of Donovan's blood and the potential murder that Kinsey had committed. It still didn't make sense. Somehow, not knowing whether Donovan was dead had proven worse than knowing he was. She had to have killed him. Her eyes were the same steel blue as her father's. Surely that meant that she had taken an innocent life. Even if that were the case, they were still left with questions, questions they couldn't answer, not until they found out who had covered for them. Who had tampered with the crime scene?

Stiles' hand trembled as his white pen edged toward the empty space of his crime board, where The Desert Wolf has one sat, he wrote "Donovan not dead. Walked out." He stepped back, staring at it. He took another step back, staring at it again. It didn't make sense. He walked toward it, he wrote more- "Donovan dead." Underlining dead over and over. Dead. He had to be. Stiles took a step back again, rubbing his temples in distress as Kinsey stared at the words, haunted by them, unable to form a sentence. He stepped forward once again. "Someone took the body." He wrote. He stared at those words, still in despair, looking at his girlfriend for some input on who on this Earth would cover up a murder for the two of them. 

But she didn't speak. She continued staring at that underlined word. Her stomach churning. She stepped forward, grabbed the eraser, rubbing out everything that he had written. Messily. With her shaky hands, it hadn't proved much use, she had barely removed the words as she became frustrated with it, breathing heavily, freaking out as Stiles pulled her back away from the board.

"I killed him, Stiles." She repeated. It still didn't sound real. "Somebody knows I killed Donovan."

·❥·

Kinsey Argent walked into Beacon Hills High School alongside her sister, a completely different person compared to when she had last come to school, a completely different person from when she had come here just last night. She had blood on her hands now and a secret that she and Stiles would be taking to their grave, not even her own sister could be told about the crime she committed last night. It was something that would be kept from the entire pack, especially Scott. He couldn't know, the two of them were adamant on that, he was so adamant on saving lives rather than taking them, he would never forgive them. Kinsey wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself for what she had done, whether it was her wolfing out or not, she struggled to justify what she had done. Even if it had saved Stiles' life, she had taken one with her own bare, bloody hands. 

She tried to keep last night at the back of her mind, searching for a distraction in school and the life she had left behind before coming back from the dead. Her sister was helping with that with all the talk of the three people in masks she had seen on that night. The rest of the pack were in limbo when trying to decide whether they believed Malia, unsure that it wasn't just some kind of vivid dream that she had had after watching a horror film or perhaps a fear brought on from the long hours of seeing doctors walk past them while waiting to hear if Kinsey was dead or not. But Malia hoped that if anyone would believe her delusions, it would be her equally delusional little sister. Unlike the rest of the pack, Kinsey enduglded her insanity.

The were-angel held a green book in her hand, reading the bold yellow and white writing aloud. The Dread Doctors by T.R. McCammon. She said with a pondering voice, her sister peering over her shoulder, eager to hear Kinsey's thoughts on the book, on the three creepy people wearing a mask that sat on the cover. It seemed like an old book, a thriller if she had to guess. She stared at the three faces on the book as she hummed, stopping in her place, Malia's eagerness rising with that sound, questioning what it was. Perhaps it was some kind of angelic premonition that made her see that she wasn't lying, that those masked people were real, that she had really seen them. While Kinsey couldn't confirm that, something did seem familiar about those three doctors. She pushed that aside, focusing more on the facts as she questioned whether anyone had read this book yet, she assumed that in her absence Malia would have turned to Lydia for help, someone who was much more capable of solving this than she.

Malia shook her head. Only she had read the book, but she didn't understand any of it, though it didn't come as much of a surprise to her little sister. Kinsey didn't dwell on it, assuring Malia that she would read it, as a matter of fact, they all needed to read it, Malia was already on it, Kira was in the library printing them all a copy as they spoke, by the end of the school day they would all have a copy to read. It might take all of them. 

As they stopped at the coyote's locker Kinsey turned over the book, reading the description. In a small New England town, teenagers are taken in the night and buried alive." She read out, Malia noding, surprisingly, she had also read the blurb. "Days later they emerge transformed wreaking havoc and spreading terror, commanded by an ancient order of parascientists known only as the Dread doctors." She read out with a roll of her eyes. "Sounds vaguely familiar. How does it end?"

"It doesn't." Malia stated plainly. "This is supposed to be volume one."

"Oh, let me guess... There is no volume two?" 

"I think we're living volume two." Her sister corrected her. Kinsey could see the clear worry in the coyote's eyes, this wasn't Malia being cryptic, learning to be paranoid like her sister. This was the look of genuine fear. Malia had seen these masks up close and personal, and it terrified her. This wasn't the Malia she knew, the Malia who hardly cared about anything or anyone. Kinsey looked back down at the book. Maybe the real question was whether it was just a novel or a prediction. The two girls headed to class, sitting by each other as Kinsey began flicking through the book, it didn't seem like something she would usually read, it was obnoxiously long and boring but she knew that for the sake of Malia it was something she would have to do eventually. Through her aimless flicking, Kinsey landed on the acknowledgements page at the back of the book, her eyes lighting up and her heart beating heavily, fast enough to alert the coyote in front of her. "Why is your heart beating so fast?" Malia questioned quietly as she turned in her seat. Kinsey turned the book around, pointing out the small paragraph written. "For providing scientific perspective and invaluable insight this book is dedicated to Dr. Gabriel Valack. I don't know who that is."

"I do." Kinsey deadpanned. "And I know where to find him too."

It hadn't been so long since she had visited the place where Dr. Gabriel Valack found himself. If not for Deaton, she would have never heard the name, but Valack was a man with knowledge, a lot of it. Supernatural knowledge. He gave Deaton himself competition. It was with Valack's help that Deaton discovered where her mother had taken Scott, what she had done to him, what she had done to Derek. The man was already awfully familiar with their pack, and more specifically, with her family. It only made sense that she visit him, but she knew she wouldn't be going alone. As soon as class had finished she had found Scott waiting outside, he too had found the note on the acknowledgment's page, remembering the name, insisting that the two of them go and talk to him. Of course, Kinsey agreed, Malia, on the other hand, wasn't so fond of the idea of going to Eichen House again. It was never a good experience. And she didn't want to risk running into her father, still unaware that Kinsey had recently paid him a visit. 

Before going on their recreational visit to Eichen House, the were-angel told her boyfriend where they were all headed. He had remained at home from school, not quite as ready as she was to be back there after what had happened last night. He still had healing to do, he had the mark on his shoulder from where Donovan had bitten him, he couldn't risk Scott sniffing out the blood or the pain that the injury was causing him. He was lucky that Kinsey couldn't yet sense how much it hurt him. 

She didn't intend on inviting the boy as much as she was making him aware of where she would be if he tried to call, after recent events he was more on edge about her safety than ever, he had a right to know that she was going into the insane asylum that he could have died in last year. Of course, she should have known that Stiles wouldn't go down without a fight. As soon as Eichen House left her mouth he was out of bed, throwing on clothes to go with them. He didn't think of it in the way Malia did, all he cared about was that his girlfriend was safe, and not alone near her father or some creepy doctor who knew everything there was to know about the supernatural. It was an accident waiting to happen. 

"You don't need to come," Kinsey reassured him. "Malia isn't."

"Malia's not going because she knows that place is a nightmare asylum of insanity and death." He deadpanned, pulling on his jacket with a slight wince. "Let's go."

"What was that?"

"What was what?" The boy questioned, feigning ignorance as he zipped up his red jacket. Kinsey narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for her answer. The truthful one.

"You winced." She stated. "You said your shoulder didn't hurt."

"It doesn't. It was my elbow. I have a bad elbow."

"It was your shoulder," Kinsey argued, the boy had no chance of lying to her. She was the best liar this pack had ever seen, that he had ever seen. She could see straight through a lie, when it came to Stiles's lies, she saw through it clearer than ever. Stiles tried to brush it off, creating the excuse that pain radiated as he prepared to make a swift exit out of his bedroom door, but with a quick reflex, Kinsey stood in his way with folded arms. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You are not going without me." He insisted. "You remember what happened to Deaton when he talked to Valack? I'm not letting that happen to you." 

"Scott, Lydia, and Kira are going to be there."

"Okay. I'm not letting you got a place renowned for their love for harbingers of death and trying to kill them. One of the orderlies almost killed Lydia."

"He almost killed you, too."

"And we're both still alive. See? Teamwork. With the three of us, we have the dream team." Stiles said confidently, slipping past her before she had a chance to argue again. There was no getting past him. He was too stubborn, too concerned for the safety of his girlfriend to let her go to such a risky place alone. Over his dead body would he sit at home knowing she was there. 

The pack gathered outside of Eichen House, ensuring that they were all prepared to go through with it before they made any rash decisions. They all knew the reputation of this place well, the boy who had been admitted here himself better than others, there was no doubt in their minds that it was a stupid decision, perhaps up there with one of the stupidest decisions they had ever made. Despite that, they all seemed prepared to follow through with it. It didn't matter whether they were at risk of being kept here and experimented on for their unique abilities, or killed due to the things they had seen within those blood-stained walls. They all liked their survival rate, it was four powerful supernaturals and a Stiles against some orderlies, and with Brunski gone they couldn't see how anything worse could be thrown at them. 

As the three girls stood at the buzzer at the foot of the large metal gates Kira pulled Kinsey aside, she had noticed how the others hadn't asked, so she had to. She wanted to ensure that the wolf was okay with being in the same building as her father after what he had done to her and Malia, she wanted to ensure that after going through so much, seeing him wouldn't send her spiraling. Perhaps that question was a little delayed. Maybe if she had been asked that question yesterday her hands would still be clean. But Kinsey nodded, reassuring her that she was fine, the chance of seeing her father didn't bother her. Neither Kira nor Lydia needed to know why it didn't affect her, as far as she was concerned, nobody did. 

With that final reassurance, the redhead began pressing the buzzer, patiently waiting for a reply while Scott and Stiles stood back, having a discussion of their own, expecting that nobody was listening in, both convinced that Kinsey didn't have that knowledge, even she didn't know that she did until she could hear their voices in her ears, talking about how Kira had spoken to Lucas in Japanese without knowing how, or how she had almost taken off his head until Scott stopped her. Kinsey looked at the kitsune beside her as Scott and Stiles talked about her, surprised by the things she was hearing, it was so unlike Kira, she was a girl who wouldn't hurt a fly, someone so sweet and innocent. It was almost ironic. 

Kinsey was about to ask Kira how she was, wondering whether the girl would willingly tell her all of the things she had just heard from Scott and Stiles, but she didn't have a chance before Stiles continued the conversation, one that she simply couldn't ignore. He spoke from experience, one he had from just last night as he asked the wolf a question. Whether Scott thought that killing in self-defense was ever alright. Scott's answer was simple. No. Because the creatures they were all fighting weren't the bad guys, they were the victims, the people they were trying to save. Kinsey peered over her shoulder, making eye contact with her boyfriend who was already looking at her as he kept those words in his mind, the confirmation that they couldn't confide in Scott. Then, it was clear that she had heard. And that her guilt had just grown immensely. 

The girl was brought back down to Earth by the sound of the gates to Eichen House opening, the sound of metal scraping against the concrete as the pack grew closer again, standing at the foot of the towering metal gates, in unison, their stomachs churning. The five of them shared another look before passing the gates, climbing the grand stairs, pausing, turning back as one, watching as the gates shut and locked behind them, confirming their decision. 

"Back so soon?" The orderly asked as the five of them approached the reception desk. Stiles and Lydia nodded, assuming it was their frequent presence in Eichen that had caused the man to say it, but the orderly's stare remained on the Argent stood a little further back than the rest with her head bowed, hoping that nobody would comment on her being here again. How quickly that fell to pieces. "Your father will be happy to see you again." The orderly continued, digging her a deep and inescapable hole as the pack simultaneously turned to look at her. 

"We're not here to see him." She stated plainly, stepping to the front to place her belongings into the container, proving only more to the group that this was a familiar process for her. She had in fact been here to see Peter, when, they weren't sure, nor how many times. They all followed suit, emptying their pockets into the container, all wearily staring at Kinsey as they did so, waiting for her to give them an explanation. But for now, she wasn't giving one.

"Please remove your belt and put it into the container." The orderly spoke, looking Kira up and down. She tried to fight it, telling him that she needed it, that it was crucial for the outfit. Lydia and Kinsey smirked at one another, convinced they had used that excuse themselves before, it seemed they had rubbed off on their friend. Unimpressed, the man continued to stare at Kira, a dead look in his eye. "Please remove your belt, which patients will attempt to take from you and use to strangle either themselves or others." He deadpanned, taking the Kitsune by surprise as she quickly removed her belt.

As the orderly took the container away, another man introduced himself. Dr. Conrad Frenis. The man looked across the five teenagers with a peculiar look, stopping at the were-angel central to the line they had formed. Kinsey Argent, he named her. It was a name he knew well, that most of Eichen House knew well, for that matter. He had no problem in telling the girl that as she smiled faintly, unsure if that was a good or bad thing. He didn't elaborate on how he knew her or what it was he had heard about the girl as he guided them through to the supernatural ward, against his better judgment, he told them. He was doing this as a favor to Deaton, nothing more. 

"Hey, what's the etiquette for talking to this guy?" Stiles questioned the doctor. "I mean, do you ever look at the other eye?" Stiles asked, he had heard all about the trepanation that had been performed on Valack and the third eye that he possessed, he simply couldn't not ask about that.

"I wouldn't." Dr. Frenis advised the pack. "In fact, while you're down here I would try not to make eye contact with anyone or anything."

The group only made it halfway down the hallway before the three leading noticed that Kira and Scott had fallen behind, the two of them coming to a complete halt. The two harbingers of death and Stiles looked at them with furrowed brows, it was clear by their faces that something wasn't right with them, Fenris knew exactly what it was. And so did they. Mountain Ash. The entirety of Eichen House was made with it, but down here, that was where it was heavily concentrated. The man questioned whether they all truly thought they would be able to see Valack, from what he'd heard, this pack was smart, a force to be reckoned with.

Stiles turned to his girlfriend, questioning if she felt okay, the Mountain Ash sure to be having the same effect on her now that she was a werewolf. Her eyes were narrowed on Scott and Kira, they both felt a strange twinge inside of their bodies, but she couldn't feel a thing. The Mountain Ash wasn't affecting her at all, she was perfectly fine. 

Interesting, Dr. Frenis mumbled lowly, loud enough for the teenage boy beside him to hear as he quickly took ahold of Kinsey's hand as a warning to the man not to touch her. With a quick swipe of his keycard, he allowed the remaining three entry to the closed-off ward, informing them that Valack's cell was the last one at the end of the hallway. A nervous Lydia looked back at Scott and Kira, unsure she was willing to leave them alone, and without Kira's katana, defenseless. With a strong concentration of Mountain Ash, she couldn't be sure that the Alpha would be able to fight anyone who pulled a stunt against them. The redhead turned back to Kinsey, her thoughts clear as the were-angel reassured her that she and Stiles would be fine alone, that she should stay on the safer side of the gate.

With their hands tightly intertwined, the couple pressed further into the ward, passing slowly by each of the cells. Despite Frenis' warning, the two stared into every cell, making eye contact with every one of the patients. The first cell contained a woman, she lurked in the shadows for all of a second before she rushed toward the door, revealing herself truly, much like The Mute, she had no mouth. The pair quickly turned their heads from the cell, a slight increase in their pace as the two of them came to the next cell, staring into that one as they had the first. 

Kinsey and Stiles both came to a sharp halt in front of it, convinced that Donovan was staring at them through the glass. They couldn't take their eyes off of him. He looked them dead in the eye as they slowly began walking again, their hearts thumping in their chests, a bead of sweat across their foreheads. With a few steps further the man changed from Donovan to a bulky creature, his ears pointy and an enlarged mouth with many sharp teeth growling at them. The couple shared a panicked look, shaking it off as they reached the final cell where Valack sat cross-legged with a bandage around his bowed head.

"Tell me what you just saw." Valack raised his head as the two reached the glass. The two feigned ignorance, glancing at one another as they shrugged their shoulders, unsure of what he meant. "The creature in the previous cell. The Sluagh. The myth is that they can take on the appearance of the lost souls that have become inextricably bound to it." He explained, the couple nervously looking at each other. "Happen to see any lost souls, Miss. Argent?"

"Everyone down here." She spoke plainly.

"Don't give up on us yet. We're all works in progress." Valack spoke, the girl raising a brow at it, it was a phrase that sounded familiar to her, like she had heard someone say it before, though she couldn't figure out who. She asked the man where he had heard it from. Wise words from one of his former cellmates, he told her, vaguely. "Did you bring the book?" He asked, moving on from a topic before it had even begun. 

Stiles pulled the book out of his back pocket, allowing the man to admire it through the glass. It was a first edition, he told them, but of course, there was only ever one printing. As he spoke the doctor looked into the eyes of the teenage girl, watching as the pieces came together, as she had come to her realization. There was no T.R. McCammon, he had written the book. The man grew a devious smile as he agreed, assuming that she had also figured out that it wasn't just a book too. It was a tool. Designed to open the eyes of the reader to The Dread Doctors.

He explained that he used a pseudonym for the book to protect his professional reputation, one that he had since shed, but while he still had it to protect, he didn't want his name on a piece of second-rate trash. Stiles couldn't understand why he had written the book in the first place if he felt so poorly toward it, he could tell from the question that neither of the teenagers had read it, but the explanation for that was simple, he wrote it because nobody believed him. Because no one listened. 

He surmised that they had returned, this time, in Beacon Hills. Kinsey didn't answer, but he had received his answer in her questioning what they were. Not entirely human, he told her, at least not anymore. They were scientists once. Scientists who worshiped the supernatural. He quoted Nikola Tesla, "If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration." The Dread Doctors found their secrets in electromagnetic forces. Way to prolong their lives, give them power, and most importantly, making you forget you ever saw them.

Kinsey questioned what they wanted, a good question, he told her, everyone wanted something. It was from that statement that Stiles saw the hint. He wanted something too. Stiles entertained it, asking what the man want. He pulled out a digital recorder, placing it in the pocket of the cell door for her to take, telling her to hit record. 

Confused, Kinsey turned back to him, asking what he wanted her to say. But Valack didn't want her words. They were no use to him. He wanted her to scream.

And she wanted answers. No matter if she had to give him something to get them. She was here for Malia, Malia needed this. She saw that look of desperation in her eyes, it wasn't a look Malia usually wore, and she didn't like it. Kinsey walked over to the door, taking the recorder, ready to sacrifice the use of her scream to gain her sister some answers. Stiles immediately took it from her hands, insisting that it wasn't happening, looking at his girlfriend with wide eyes, wondering if she had lost her mind.

"He's the only one who knows anything." The girl argued in a whisper, the two taking a few steps from the glass as they had their discussion.

"Kinsey, the guy's a nut-job who drilled a hole into his head. He's probably lying his ass off."

Valack interrupted them, asking how many of them had died so far. If all of them were teenagers. He knew he was right, he wrote the book on it, he didn't need to guess their ages. He questioned if the two of them wanted to know how many people they had killed the first time they came, or how many would die if they succeeded. The lights began flickering around them as Kinsey took a step closer toward the glass again, this had happened before. Valack agreed, and now they were back, all because a few teenagers never considered the consequences and decided to reignite a supernatural force they barely understood. The Nemeton.

"How do you even know about that?" Stiles asked the man, becoming more creeped out by him.

"I know because I saw it." He deadpanned, removing the bandage from his head, Kinsey couldn't try to remove her eyes, looking straight into the trepanation hole as Valack revealed his third eye to her. The lights continued to flicker as Valack looked around, questioning who they brought to Eichen House with them, more importantly, what they were. Stiles warned her not to answer the question, but the electricity around them continued to surge. "You brought a Kitsune." The man stated as a bulb blew, leaving the hallway in complete darkness. "She's disrupting the building's defenses."

"What do you mean?" Kinsey asked in a panic. "How?"

"It's not just the Mountain Ash that keeps this building secure. It's the electromagnetic energy." He explained to them. "Eichen is built on the convergence of telluric currents. Ley lines. It's what allows it to keep certain supernatural creatures in. And certain others out." He told them, Kinsey was growing more anxious, more suspicious as she edged closer to her boyfriend. Worried about both of their safety. "They knew you were coming. They're here. And you unlocked the door for them."

"Kinsey. We need to get you out of here. Now." Stiles warned the girl, gripping tightly onto her.

"Hit record. Do it now." Valack insisted, his hands pressed against the glass as he begged the girl. "It costs you nothing."

Stiles refused his ask again. If it was worth something to him, Valack wasn't getting it for free. It wasn't how this bargain worked. They wanted their half. The teenage girl demanded to have an answer as she asked what the book did. Valack was difficult, insisting he had told them already, frustrating Stiles as he began to tell, the clock ticking, Eichen becoming darker, something about this place becoming creepier than usual. He repeated himself. It opened the reader's eyes. How? Kinsey questioned him. It triggered the memory centers of the brain, allowing whoever read it to remember The Dread Doctors. He hoped that it would circulate, that someone else would have experienced it too, that they would have memories of The Dread Doctors.

"They'd see the cover. A hint of the memory." Valack spoke. Stiles looked back at the gate they'd entered through, becoming more anxious of time. The teenage girl stared straight ahead with a furrowed brow as images began to flash inside of her mind. She was on a surgical table. Doctors surrounded her, flashes flashing from their usual faces to the three masks she had seen on that cover. "They pick up the book, read it. The suppressed memories resurface, and they'd find their way to me to discover more. Just like you did." He said as he looked into the girl's eyes. 

Stiles asked if it had worked on anybody else, Valack throwing back a sarcastic remark about not seeing it in The New York Times' best sellers. Before the two could bicker, Kinsey interrupted the two of them, clarifying that all she needed to do was read the book. Valack agreed. If she'd seen them, if they had done anything to her, the book would help her remember. 

Now, he had given her what she wanted, he demanded that she fulfill her end of the bargain. He needed that scream. Kinsey held out her hand for the recorder, Stiles looking at Valack again, he was irked by the idea of giving the man what he wanted, but Kinsey had made a deal, and it was one she would stick to. With hesitance, he placed it in her hand.

The girl took a shaky breath as she hit record, looking at Stiles once more. She could protect him from her scream, so that he wasn't hurt by it. She had created that protective shield, it was what an Angel did. She could do it again. She just had to want it enough. The boy shut his eyes tightly as he prepared for the sound, knowing that it would feel like a strong vibration inside of his body like his eardrums had burst. But all he heard was the muffled sound of Kinsey's scream, the floor shaking at his feet as he opened his eyes, watching the amazement, the enjoyment in the man's eyes as he watched the girl scream, he too unaffected by it as she shielded both of them.

As her scream ended, Kinsey quickly slipped the recorder back into the cell as alarms sounded throughout the building. But she wasn't finished, once again she asked what The Dread Doctors wanted, but he wouldn't tell her, insistent that she read the book. Stiles wasn't willing to wait at the cell another moment, he pulled her from it, they had to go, now. As the couple rushed down the hall he shouted the order to read the book once more. Neither of them turned back to look at the man once more.

The two managed to find an unlocked, empty room, hiding in its further corner, pressed against the wall as Stiles kept an arm around the brunette girl, keeping her close to his chest as the two of them tried to breathe lowly, barely. They listened to the crackling of electricity, the sound of heavy boots trending on the floor. The sound of The Dread Doctors. They kept silent. Still. Afraid to move. The footsteps continued to recede until they had faded completely, Stiles was about to move, but the were-angel pushed him back, shaking her head. Not yet. The silence continued until a pained scream sounded in their ears. Undeniably the scream of the man they had left in his cell moments ago. A few more moments passed, the lights in Eichen House returning as the couple finally breathed again.

"I think we're okay." The girl whispered.

"No, it's not okay." Stiles shook his head, his breaths were shaky. He was panicking. Enough for him to verge onto a panic attack. His body was locked, his arm still around the girl as tears filled his eyes. "All of this, it's on us. Everything that's happened, everything that's going to happen, it's our fault."

In those words, Kinsey was reminded of something. Her duty. What she was here for. Why she'd become what she had become. It wasn't some miracle. It wasn't luck. It was fate. She was Kinsey Argent. She was The Were-Angel. "It's our responsibility."