𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄
𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒
☽𓋼𓍊𓋼☾

"Lyla."

The girls eyes opened slowly, a groan escaping her as she took in her surroundings. It was blurry, just slightly, the dark room slowly becoming clear as she peered up at the figure in front of her. Stiles was scary close to her face, worry and anxiety seeping off of him and directly into Lyla's senses. "What happened?" She mumbled, hands reaching out to grasp the flannel covering his arms. "Okay, okay, take it slow." Stiles muttered, eyes widening as she yanked him a bit too hard, sending him into the water next to her with a grunt.

"I can barely breathe." She wheezed, Stiles swallowing thickly as he pulled her against his chest, wet blonde hair seeping into the front of his t-shirt , "You're okay. You're okay. Just breathe." Stiles mumbled, Lylas grip on his sleeve tightening when she finally looked into the center of the loft.

Derek was kneeling in the water, in front of a body, while Cora hovered over whoever it was, sobbing. She couldn't see as well as she'd liked, but she could smell the blood, she could smell Isaac, and the others. But not Kali or the twins. That's when it dawned on her, she only hear 6 heartbeats. And she couldn't see Boyd.

The body laying unresponsive on the ground was Boyd. Her friend. The boy who protected her by stepping in front of her and taking the first initial blow from Ennis at the mall that night. The boy who always smirked at her jokes and made asshole comments even though he never meant them.

Her body fell numb, tears forming in her eyes as she grasped Stiles' arm tighter, tears now falling freely from her eyes. The boy held her tightly against his chest, tears flooding his eyes as he, and everyone else in the room, mourned Boyd.

☽𓋼𓍊𓋼☾

"Lyla." Her sister's voice was laced with confusion as she watched her sister limp into their house, hand holding her stomach, followed by a strange brunette boy wearing a flannel.

"Lyla?" She took note of her limp, approaching her sister carefully, "What happened. Who is he?" She placed her hand on her sister's shoulder, looking back at the awkward boy.

"Oh, yeah, uh Stiles. Stiles Stilinski." Stiles stuttered, sending Jo a nervous wave. "Stilinski? Like the sheriff?" Jo questioned with raised brows. He nodded with a smile, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's my dad."

Jo's eye twitched, "What'd you do to my sister?" Jo practically growled at Stiles, the boy taking a nervous step back.

"I'm fine, Jo, just healing slower than usual." Lyla grunted, stretching her back as the sensation of the electricity finally subsided from her limbs. "I got electrocuted. First time for everything." Jo looked between Stiles and Lyla with wide eyes, but Lyla placed a hand on her sisters shoulder, "He knows, Jo. I have to tell you something."

"I'm gonna go." Stiles pointed behind him, "I'll text you if we hear anything." Lyla nodded with a smile, "Thanks, Stiles."

"You're telling me everything, Lyla. I'm not stupid. I've seen the news. I know there's been murders and I know that somehow you know something about it." Jo frowned, but Lyla attempted to stay calm.

"Jo, sit down."

Jo's eyes were wider than Lyla had ever seen them, the woman completely frozen in her spot on the couch.

"I could kill you, and I really want to right now. But I'm not going to. I'm going to stay calm, and we are going to pack the car back up, and we're going to fucking Maine, or something-"

"No." Lyla stood from the couch, "No, we're not running again. I'm not leaving, not now, not when these people, my friends need my help. If you want to leave, go somewhere safe until this blows over, that's fine. You can. But I'm not."

Jo licked her lips, running her hands over her face in frustration, "Lyla, these are not our fights. We don't fight. We don't do packs. We are all that matters."

Lyla shook her head, sitting back down on the couch and grabbing her sisters hands, "These people matter to me, Jo. My friend just died, and more will too. I can't imagine just up and leaving them; I wouldn't be able to live with myself." She felt tears flow down her cheeks, not realizing until that moment that she had started crying.

"For once, I have something that I deem worth dying for. Worth fighting for. And I won't abandon that. We're staying."

Jo inhaled deeply, reaching up and placing her hand on Lylas cheek, "I love you more than anything in the world, and would stop at no lengths to protect you. But I see now that you're grown up, and can make your own decisions. We'll stay. But so help me God, Delilah Jane Matthews, if you die, I'll fucking kill you."

Lyla nodded, staring down at their conjoined hands. "He's gone, Jo. I don't really know how to process it. I've been trying not to cry, but it feels like I'm an overflowing water balloon just waiting to pop."

"Oh, Del. Cry, honey. That's the only way to process it." Jo whispered, pulling her sister into a hug that made Lyla immediately break into tears.

The sobs racked through her body so aggressively, she felt like throwing up.

She may not be apart of their packs, Boyd was her friend. And she didn't even get to say goodbye. All she got to do was cry over his body before Derek picked him up off the floor to take him somewhere the police could find him.

☽𓋼𓍊𓋼☾

Lyla couldn't sleep. Not a wink. She had tried closing her eyes, but they just flicked right back open seconds later.

Her mind was racing, at a hundred miles a second and she could not slow it down. Flashes of the mall fight, Boyd, the sacrifices. It was all shooting across her mind, slowly speeding up just to never slow down.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw off her covers and tossed her legs over the side of the bed. If she was gonna be up at 1 in the morning, might as well be productive.

She inhaled deeply at the sight of her room; not super messy, but not necessarily an enjoyable sight. Clothes randomly strewn about, small trashcan borderline overflowing, desk littered with schoolwork.

She began with her desk, neatly piling her papers into stacks according to it's subject, before placing them into her binder and tossing it in her backpack that sat on the desk chair. Then her clothes; sorting dirty from clean, hang from fold. She placed the clothes in their respective places, tossing the dirty ones in her hamper before grabbing her trashcan to take to the kitchen.

The house was dark, cold, but quiet; unlike her mind. It was nice, walking down the stairway into a quiet, unbothered kitchen. After dumping the contents of her small trashcan into the larger kitchen one, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and made her way back up the stairs.

Unscrewing the lid of her water bottle with one hand, she brought it up to her lips before pausing right outside of her closed bedroom door. Although her mind wasn't quiet, she knew for a fact that her bedroom should be; so why could she hear a heartbeat?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight in fear, and she closed the bottle back up before tucking it under the arm that held her trashcan. Nervously, she flicked her claws out and took a deep breath in. She didn't know who it could be. It could be Kali, Deucalion, the twins. Someone snooping around in places they shouldn't be.

Swallowing thickly, she reached out and twisted the doorknob, slowly pushing it open, defenses up and claws out in case it was an ambush.

She didn't see anyone at first, until her eyes landed on the window next to her bed, where a tall figure stood awkwardly, closing the window slowly and gently. Luckily, she could recognize that head of curly golden hair anywhere.

"Isaac."

The boy turned slowly to look at her, the gentle glow of the fairy lights that littered her room illuminating the side of his face. "You scared me." Lyla mumbled, stepping into her room and closing the door softly behind her, careful to not wake up Jo in the other room. She crossed her room to place the trashcan back beside her desk, before turning back to face him.

His body was directed towards her, hunched over in defeat, clothed in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His heart was slow, soft, but his chemo signals reeked of sadness and anxiety.

"Isaac, what are you doing here? It's 1 a.m." She mumbled, crossing the room once more to stand a few feet in front of him. It was only then that she clocked the almost dried tears on his cheeks, eyes red and puffy from crying.

He didn't have to say anything for Lyla to understand. He too, could not shake the events of the past few days.

Lyla's heart dropped, and she immediately threw her arms up and around his neck. The moment she had made contact with him, his chest began to rack violently with silent sobs. He engulfed her, bending his neck down to bury his face in her hoodie covered neck, arms wrapping around her waist as tightly as he could muster in the moment.

"He's gone."

Lyla's eyes pricked with tears, slowly sliding down her cheeks as she tightly clamped her eyes together to prevent her own breakdown, "I know."

They stood there for a moment; maybe more. Isaac crying, Lyla crying. They had lost their friend, and they could never get him back.

When his sobs slowly died down, she pulled away from him, hands gently moving to his arms as she guided him to her bed. He said nothing, just moved his body over to the opposite side of the bed with his back to her, sliding the cream-colored comforter up and over his shoulders.

Lyla frowned, wiping her tears with her sleeve before sliding in the bed next to him, warmth from when she laid there 30 minutes ago long gone. She contemplated reaching out to place a comforting hand on his back, or wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him close.

But she decided against it. Instead, she waited for his heartbeat to steady, indicating he was asleep, before she too closed her eyes and allowed sleep to finally overcome her.

☽𓋼𓍊𓋼☾

Isaac reluctantly peeled his eyes open at the light shining in through the windows, squinting as he adjusted to the brightness.

He was surrounded in warmth, not a sweaty, uncomfortable warmth, but the kind that makes you want to stay inside and not move from your bed. He hummed, snuggling his head further into the lavender scented pillows, before his eyes shot back open. He took in the room around him, littered in band posters and plants, the night prior flooding back into his memory.

He had gone to Lyla's late at night, unable to sleep and only able to cry.

As quietly as possible, he slipped from the bed softly and yanked his tennis shoes back on, watching as Lyla didn't move a muscle, back turned to him as peaceful, sleeping breaths escaped her. As he maneuvered back around the bed towards the window he entered through, he couldn't help but really notice her. Laying there so peaceful, worry lines nonexistent on her forehead. Every time he'd accidentally fallen asleep on her floor, she was awake before him, bending over the corner of the bed to slap him awake.

But there she was, hair pulled back into a ponytail, mouth slightly open, face void of any makeup. She looked, beautiful, if Isaac was going to be honest with himself. His heart had skipped a beat the first time he made her laugh, stomach turned the first time she hugged him. But she wouldn't like him back. Couldn't. Not if all the things his father had said about him were true.

With a shallow breath and a nervous swallow, he peeled the window back open and climbed out, holding onto the drainpipe and closing the window before dropping to the ground.

Lyla woke up okay, initially. Until she turned on her side, expecting the body of the tall golden haired werewolf she fell asleep next to, to still be there. But instead, she was met with an empty bed, the other side cold.

He hadn't even said goodbye or woken her up. Instead, he used her as a comfort pillow, invaded her room and took her bed, and left with not so much as a 'thank you' or a 'sorry I broke in through your window at the ass crack of night'.

She angrily pulled her homework from her backpack and began working on the English essay. She didn't know why she felt the sudden urge to do her homework, maybe it's because she knew she would need to catch up because they'd been so distracted by the Alpha pack and the sacrifices. Or maybe, subconsciously, it was to distract herself from her growing feelings for the boy who so rudely left her in the early hours of the morning.

She worked for who knows how long, before reaching into her bag to pull out her book. Her mouth fell open when her hands landed on an empty bag. She had left her book in her locker. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She groaned, standing from her bed and moving to her closet, where she pulled out the only bottoms that were clean at the moment; a black skirt. She sighed, slipping the skirt over her legs, followed by a pair of sheer black tights and a red sweater.

She should really commit to laundry day.

She yanked her purse from her chair and made her way down the stairs, strings of curse words directed at herself spewing in whispers from her lips, "Jo, I'll be back, I forgot my book at school."

Jo sent her sister a thumbs up from the couch, "Drive safe, please! You know I hate that bike."

Lyla nodded, grabbing the keys from the wall, "Back in 30."

The drive to the school was quick, not too much traffic on a casual Sunday morning. The school was closed, obviously, but as she'd proven time and time again, locked doors rarely meant anything to her. The school was as quiet as she had ever heard it. No students, no teachers, not even the janitors. Just empty hallways and deserted classrooms.

Her locker had become less sad over the weeks as the promise of a longer stay set in. Once just a small mirror magnetized on the inside of the door, was now a picture of her and her sister, next to one of her and Isaac she had printed out, there was even a picture of her and Allison the night she had slept over; Argent had come in and snapped a picture of Allison painting her nails. It was a good picture. The first picture she ever had with a girl friend.

She yanked the book from her locker and slammed it closed, making her way back over to the doors she had entered in through. She couldn't stop thinking about the other night. Boyd, Kali, Derek. An Alpha being forced to unwillingly to take the life of his Beta. The feeling had finally settled in her stomach; things were getting real. There was no more toying with each other, playing with the other packs feelings. Two lives had been taken by the alpha pack, almost a dozen taken by the Darach.

She shook her head of the thoughts, wanting just one day of peace and quiet, before her eyes caught on a picture hung against the wall, protected by the trophy case. It made her stop in her tracks.

She furrowed her brows, leaning in closer to the picture to ensure she saw it correctly. She could recognize that familiar head of blinding blonde hair and glowing smile anywhere. Standing in the middle of a group of other teens, was her mom.

Obviously, much younger, probably Lyla's age. She was smiling, as widely as she could holding a trophy, wearing a maroon swimsuit. Lyla's heart dropped slightly, a small smile forming on her lips. There was a reason Jo was drawn to this town. A reason Jo said it felt different.

Because their mom was from here.

Her happiness didn't last long, however, when her eyes drifted to the right of the picture, where a familiar smiling boy stood next to her mother, wearing the same-colored swimming trunks. He was young, much younger than she had ever seen him, but still recognizable by the eyes and the smile.

Peter fucking Hale.

Her chest bubbled with anger the longer she stared at it. Peter knew. He had to have known who she was, who her mother was, and he never said anything.

She furiously stomped out of the school and to her bike, speeding off in the direction of the loft. She basically blacked out for the drive, arriving at Derek's in record time.

Yanking the loft door open Lyla seethed at Peter, who sat on the couch, Cora and Stiles standing at the table across from him. She didn't question why Stiles was there, her attention solely focused on Peter.

"You knew who I was, didn't you, Peter?"

The man turned to the girl with surprised eyes, "You knew her, and you never said anything to me."

"What the hell is she talking about?" Stiles muttered, Cora sending him a shrug as Peter stood from the couch. "Listen, yes, I knew who you were, and I knew your mother. We went out a little bit in high school, but I distanced myself when I found out she what she was."

Lyla stopped her movements, pausing halfway down the steps in shock, "What?"  Peter's face fell, "You didn't know? She was a druid, Delilah."

Her whole world suddenly came crashing down around her. Everything she thought she knew about her mother, disappeared out the loft window. A druid? "But my mom-"

"Was bitten when she was 17, enhancing her Druid abilities. Why do you think the Alpha pack wanted your sister so badly? They think she acquired her abilities. I'm sorry, I thought you knew." Peter knew she didn't know. He was waiting for her to figure it all out, and he was internally ecstatic he could be the one to relinquish the information upon her.

Lyla swallowed thickly, glancing over at a shocked Stiles. "Do you think my sister knows?"

Peter shook his head, "As far as I heard, not even your father knew. She ran from Beacon Hills after graduation and never looked back. The last I heard about her was from my sister, Talia, before she died. And then, years later, you showed up. Without her. I could only assume at worst."

Lyla's breathing stuttered, eyes scattering between the three before she nodded slowly, "You're an ass, Peter Hale." With that, she exited the loft with tears in her eyes. Her mom was a druid and she never knew, they never knew what she was.

Jo didn't get any special abilities outside of becoming an Alpha, she would've said something. Lyla would've noticed something different, she's not an idiot.

So why did her mom never tell anyone?