𝟐𝟒 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

✯☾✯

𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝑯𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 had fallen subject to their unconscious states, basking in the wacky, dream-like realities. For the very few, on night shifts, insomniac wanderers, meddling teenagers who had bitten off more than they could chew, they were wide awake.

The door to the Sherriff's office was cautiously pushed open, the girl behind it timid and unsure. Noah Stilinski and his curious son looked up from the many books on the desk they were flicking through.

Stiles gave his friend no time to mumble out a rally of greetings, he immediately beckoned her over, flailing frantically. "Everyone who died, 24, class of 2006, all went to Beacon Hills high school."

Lizzie shuffled towards the desk, hardly processing the vague list of information she'd just been given. A beige file was thrust into Lizzie's hands.

"Isaac had a brother. Did you know that?" Stiles refused to wait for an answer from the girl. Theories, conspiracies, ideas, hurtled through his head at top speed.

"All right," He addressed his father. "But, so what if they all knew each other, you know. I mean two of them were married, so maybe they all just hung out."

Lizzie shook her head, a couple of nights ago the devastating headline enlightened the town of the death of married couple expecting a child. The news reporters screamed sadistic murder but it was later confirmed by Derek that it was the work of the kanima.

"Well, they could have had the same classes together, they could've-" Noah stopped his wondering, the pause initiating after he caught sight of one of the pages in the file.

"What?" Stiles questioned the halt as Lizzie gravitated to his side.

"Same teacher." Noah slid the file across the desk towards the two teens. Lizzie strained her neck, slightly blocked by Stiles to see the inevitable picture of satan displayed in the corner of the page.

"Harris," Stiles muttered under his breath. "They were all in his class?"

Noah nodded. "All four."

Lizzie scratched the side of her head. Of course all four kanima victim's had been in Beacon Hill's most evil teacher's class.

"How many times have as told you he's evil." She droned out the 'l'.

"I don't know how Mr. Lahey fits in." Noah reminded them of the only thing that didn't align the pattern. "But, this, kids, this is definitely a pattern."

Lizzie and Stiles exchanged looks, searching each others eyes as if they were sending silent messages to each other through their minds.

Noah snapped them out of it, slamming his hand on the desk and leaping into police infused action.

"Alright, give me the 2006 yearbook. These names, we need faces."

The rest of the night was spent searching for each student of the class of 2006, matching their name to a face. The theory had amplified from this to immediate concern as if the kanima wasn't done killing, which it had shown no signs of, that meant if the pattern was accurate, one of Mr Harris' students was fated an ugly demise.

✯☾✯

"Are we all here?" Alan Deaton spoke across the veterinary table, carefully eyeing the three in front of them. Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey and Derek Hale. Times were tough and everything was confusing, so, Scott had turned to his boss for help. Much to Deaton's delight.

"My friend, Lizzie, should be here but she's always late so we should probably just start." Scott sighed as he leaned against the cold, metallic surface of the table.

Deaton nodded his head knowingly. "Oh, I remember her, she stopped by last week with cookies for you, did she not?"

Scott chuckled to himself. "Yeah, I didn't expect her to be on time anyway."

Isaac turned his head to the ground, concealing the smile he held upon hearing Scott and Deaton talk so fondly of Lizzie. His Lizzie.

Deaton reached for a wooden container carrying a cluster of small jars, each lid labelled with a different symbol. No sooner had he placed the container on the table, Isaac reached out for them.

Giving him a hardened stare, Derek grabbed Isaac's wrist, stopping him. "Watch what you touch."

Deaton plucked each jar one at a time, inspecting them. Isaac leaned down, resting his elbows on the table.

"So," He plastered on his haughty smirk. "What are you? Some kind of witch?"

"No," Deaton quipped drolly. "I'm a veterinarian."

Isaac recoiled, his jaw falling slack and his confidence crawling back inside it's box.

Deaton opened his mouth to begin reciting his knowledge of the infamous kanima however the sound of the door opening blocked him.

"Holy shit, it's cold out there."

A short girl and a skipping boy rounded the corner.

"Hey," Lizzie grinned at Scott first and then at the others in the room. "This is Davis."

"Yo." Davis waved delightedly at the group, his rosy cheeks matching his sister's.

"My dad's stuck in traffic. Huge crash by the video store. So, I'm looking after him, but, he's got his ipod and headphones." Lizzie gestured for her brother to go take a seat in the waiting room which he did obligingly.

Something guilty flickered within Scott, unnerving him. How did he not know she had a little brother?

"What did I miss?" Lizzie approached the table and stood close to Scott.

"Literally nothing." The McCall boy pushed her shoulder lightly.

"Awesome!" She breathed, putting on her best posh voice. "Proceed."

"Unfortunately, I don't see anything here that's going to be an effective defence against a paralytic toxin." Deaton stared disappointedly down at the container. Lizzie noticed he spoke so particularly, so refined. He spoke in a way she would happily listen to for hours.

"We're open to suggestions." Derek muttered grumpily. The pixie cocked her head. She realised she'd never seen the alpha smile before. Maybe she should put that on her to-do list. Make Derek Hale smile.

"What about an effective offense?" Isaac suggested. He came across quite aggressive, Lizzie could tell that for much.

"We've already tried." Derek shut his beta down. "I nearly took it's head off. And Argent emptied an entire clip into it. The thing just gets back up."

"There has to be something that'll make stay down."

Everyone turned to Lizzie.

"I've watched a lot of movies, and even the invincible big boss has some sort of weakness."

Deaton pointed at her with the snap of his fingers. "Point. Has it shown any weaknesses?"

"Well, one, it can't swim." The plaguing memory of being stuck in a high school pool with Stiles and Lizzie still haunted Derek.

"Does that go for Jackson as well?" Deaton quizzed, hoping for a connection.

"No. He's the captain of the swim team." Scott pointed out.

"Essentially, you're trying to catch two people." Deaton concluded, spewing knowledge like a professor. After retrieving something from a drawer, a circular emblem, he held the object for all to see.

"A puppet. And a puppeteer."

He placed the object on the desk and Lizzie moved to the other side of Scott to get a better view of it. Isaac felt his breath hitch as she slotted into place beside him.

"One killed the husband but the other had to take care of the wife," Deaton continued to explain. The room was silent but you could practically hear the wisdom rolling around his mind. "Do we know why?"

Scott was the first to speak up, "I don't think Jackson could do it. His mother died pregnant, too, and she was maybe murdered. I think he couldn't let the same thing happen to someone else."

"How do you know its not part of the rules?" Isaac pressed, he stood slightly bent down so he wasn't face to face with the blinding lamp that hung overhead. "The kanima kills murderers. If Jackson kills the wife, then the baby dies too."

"Does that mean you're father was a murderer?" Scott spoke, almost jokingly.

"Wouldn't surprise me if he was." Isaac murmured. Why wouldn't has father be a murderer? Isaac was almost certain he would have killed his own son eventually. He had to much fury spouting from grief and he had very little coping methods aside from violence. What if he just tipped?

The curly-headed boy snapped out of his trance of painful thoughts as something cold touched his hand. It grazed against his fingers and then pulled back. Another moment went by and he felt his pinkie linking with another, dainty and delicate, asking for permission. Isaac moved slowly, entwining his whole hand with the smaller.

Lizzie smiled to herself, giving Isaac's hand a reassuring squeeze. She hoped it would comfort him, remind him he still had someone. But, after all, Lizzie sort of just wanted to hold his hand. And she wasn't partial to the idea of letting go.

"Hold on," A light bulb moment lit up the room as Deaton pointed at Derek. "The book says they're bonded, right? What if the fear of water isn't coming from Jackson but from the person controlling him? What if something that affects the kanima,"

Deaton uncapped one of his jars, shaking the grey powder to encircle the emblem on the table.

"Also affects it's master?"

"Meaning what?" Lizzie asked, as always, taking a little to long to catch on.

"Meaning we can catch them." Scott glanced at Deaton for confirmation. "Both of them."

✯☾✯

Spending her morning cramped into the boys' locker room and forced to sit quietly on one of the benches beside Scott and Stiles was not ideal. It was obvious by the look on her face that she was utterly terrified of what she may see.

But, she kept her self busy, picking at chocolate bar Scott had gifted her.

The door to Coach's office swung open, startling everyone as he usually did.

"Can anyone tell me where the hell Jackson is and why he missed morning practice?"

No one, apart from Stiles' whispers to Scott, said a word. Lizzie stared at her chocolate, feeling more uncomfortable than she already was.

"Stilinski," Coach yelled extremely loudly, filling the entirety of the small locker room. "Jackson?"

"Sorry, Coach, I haven't seen him since the last time I saw him," Stiles spoke confidently at first, trusting his ability to come up with a cover story on the spot.

"Oh, and when was that?" Coach questioned, obviously concerned for his star player who, unbeknownst to him, was probably out slashing his claws through someone's throat.

"Last time I saw him- was definitely the time I saw him last." Stiles cringed at his own words, the cover story not looking so great now.

Coach sighed at the lack of help from the Stilinski boy, which he really should have anticipated, and instead turned to Jackson's closest friend, Danny.

"Danny, tell Jackson no missing practice this close to the championships, okay?"

"Sure, Coach." Danny replied meekly, although, the truth was, no one actually knew where Jackson was, in fact, no one had seen him in days.

Coach's hardened stare flickered from player to player before landing on the person out of place.

"Lizzie, what are you doing in my changing room?"

Lizzie jumped, staring blankly at the man as she ate her chocolate.

"Chofofate?" She held the bar out to him, mouth half full. Coach scoffed but snatched the whole bar out of her hands before retreating to his office.

Lizzie stared broken-heartedly at her now empty hand. However, it wasn't empty for long. Isaac, quick to jump at the opportunity to make the girl smile, dropped a Snickers bar into her palm.

Gasping delightedly, Lizzie looked up wide eyed, sending a thankful smile towards the boy that made his stomach perform a very detailed acrobatic routine.

The moment didn't last long, a recurring, stumbling block, as Isaac stepped away to taunt and out show Scott and Stiles in a sickening display of feuding masculinity. He returned with three tickets for some strange show the trio were using as a cover to somehow attain Jackson and figure out who the mastermind pulling the strings was.

The whole situation reminded Lizzie of the nineties movies Scream she used to watch with her mom involving a similar concept.

The mastermind and the accompanist.

✯☾✯

When picking an outfit for a rave, there was a few things to be considered. All of which Lizzie was unaware of as she stood beside Scott and Stiles in front a grey building, shivering.

After many hours of research, Lizzie had decided on a lace up, black crop top and a pair of denim shorts. Clearly, temperature didn't exist in her world. She'd tried not to go too 'provocative' as wearing anything sexy scared her. However, she'd done her best to choose rave-worthy clothing.

"You okay?" Scott asked Stiles as they opened the trunk to his jeep.

Stiles, seeming distracted, hauled a trash bag from the dark compartment. They'd made a stop at Deaton's to go over the game plan.

The vet had suggested using mountain trash to trap Jackson as upon circling it around the building, it would work as an invisible barrier, preventing anything supernatural crossing it. That was Stiles' job.

Scott and Lizzie had the task of sedating Jackson with a second handicap gifted by Deaton. A syringe of ketamine, which was supposed to slow the kanima down.

"Yeah, why?" Stiles replied evasively.

"You just didn't say anything the whole way up here."

Lizzie too had noticed something off about Stiles. The Stilinski boy's humour and wit was key for their group. It kept them going, lightened spirits when times were tough, encouraged them to take a step back and find a bright side.

Without Stiles, Lizzie was pretty sure everyone would've given up by now. Not only had he saved their asses many more times than he should've, he was their spark, their relief. And Lizzie would forever be grateful for him as would she stand by that boy no matter what.

Smiling lightly, she took his hand and leaned into his side, providing Stiles the comfort he needed right now.

"I'm fine," He mumbled quietly, desperate to change the subject. "Let's grab the other bag."

"I can't. Remember, Deaton said you have to do it alone." Scott reminded him of his boss' Dumbledore-like advice.

Stiles didn't like the thought of being alone. "Okay, this plan is really starting to suck."

Scott began to nod in agreement but something alerted his wolfy senses.

"No," He muttered to himself. "Not here, not now."

The wolf dashed off, ignoring Stiles' shouts. Lizzie clung to his arm.

"What am i supposed to do now? I don't wanna go in there on my own." She whispered.

The blaring music could be heard from outside. She knew it was gonna be loud. Loud like the gay club they visited a few nights ago. It would be loud and scary and Lizzie didn't know if she'd be able to handle it by herself.

Stiles softened and looked down at her. "Okay, tiny," He placed his hands on her shoulders. "We haven't got much time but you're gonna be fine. Allison and Scott are in there. You'll be able to find one of them. But, if you can't, call me and I'll get you out of there. Screw the plan, okay?"

Lizzie nodded as certainly as she could, bracing herself as Stiles pushed her lightly in the direction of the building.

Every step she took, she told herself it was going to be okay. She felt stupid worrying like this. It was just a rave. Just a bunch of people having fun. She loved fun.

But why was she so nervous?

The volume of the thumping beats amplified and the gaping pit in her stomach widened, swallowing any ounce of confidence whole as she climbed the steps.

She pushed the door open and immediately the noise collapsed on her. Strobe lights pelted her. Someone pushed past her, sending her stumbling into the writhing crowd of sweaty bodies.

There was frantic spasm of panic as the floor seem to levitate and spin all at once. The music punched her, kicked her, forcing an antagonizing migraine but, for the rest of the dancers, it fuelled them.

It was almost as if she being crushed by the body weight of the giant mass. She was trapped in a compressor, shrinking, pulverising, controlling. Hyperventilating, breath and oxygen was ripped from her and slaughtered on the spot.

And then, suddenly, she was saved. She was yanked from the swarm and pressed behind the solace of a wooden beam. She scrunched her eyes shut, encasing the leaking tears.

"You're okay, girlie." A voice Lizzie did not recognise comforted her. Her eyes fluttered open and immediately scanned the women in front of her. She had scorching red hair, darker than Lydia's. Her almost perfectly shaped body was covered in very little and she wore a pair of black headphones around her neck.

More importantly, she was stood in front of a DJ set, hands moving around erratically. She smiled at Lizzie, tilting her head.

Lizzie moved closer, marvelling at what the redhead was doing as she calmed herself down.

"Thank you," She breathed out her grattitude.

The woman noticed her interest in the set. "You spin?"

Lizzie shook her head, her smile crawling back to take its place. "No. No, sorry."

"C'mere," The woman beckoned Lizzie behind the deck. "I'm Annie."

"Lizzie."

Annie took a hold of the pixie's wrist, guiding it towards the set.

The shorter brunette's heartbeat had returned to its normal peace, plunging Lizzie into a more relaxed state.

God, she hated crowds.

Eventually, the storm of whirl winding emotions fluttering around Lizzie died down as she danced around with Annie, requesting songs and medlling with the buttons at times.

She'd completely forgotten her duties but reality whacked her hard as she noticed Scott and Isaac stood by one of the pillars close to her. Bidding her goodbyes to Annie, she tried hard to avoid the crowds and finally making it the pillar.

She crashed into Scott, wrapping her arms around his torso. Scott grinned, relieved he knew where the small brunette was as he had been starting to panic.

Isaac chewed on the side of his cheek. He wished she'd hug him. Maybe she would. Maybe he would. When this was all over.

Scott and Lizzie parted so the two wolves could carry on with their conversation.

Handing the ketamine filled syringe, Scott's expression turned sincere. "Be careful."

Isaac chuckled to himself, flipping the syringe skilfully around in his hands. "Oh, i doubt it'll even slightly hurt him."

"No i mean you."

That surprised the curly headed boy.

Lizzie nodded along. "Watch his claws, Zach."

It took a few moments for Isaac to turn to Lizzie. He gazed at her, longingly, desperately, but soon snapped out of it, nodding before turning to make his way to Jackson.

Lizzie grazed her teeth over her glossy bottom lip as she watched the boy walk off.

"Stop staring, it's creepy." Scott nudged her, scolding her teasingly.

Lizzie sighed dreamily. "But he's so beautiful."

"Oh, jesus." Scott shook his head, leaning against the pillar.

Bodies grinded together, flailing around. People were drunk off their faces. And what better way to appeal to intoxicated teens? Well, by attacking their hormones of course.

Erica and Isaac had sidled their way up to Jackson, the blonde inserting herself between the two boys. Hips swaying to the music, the danced the way they knew would distract Jackson. It would distract anyone.

Isaac's veined hands slid down Erica's body, exploring every curve, setting her skin alight. She stared at him with her beautifully sexy eyes.

But, he wasn't staring back.

He was looking straight at Lizzie, craving her reaction.

Only, the pixie blinked back innocently, smiling as she stuck her thumbs up encouragingly.

Isaac didn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't that. Maybe he wanted her to come over and force Erica off him, to wrap her own arms around his neck, to press herself up against him so he could hold her as close as possible, to kiss him until he couldn't breath.

Yet, he knew she couldn't. And she wouldn't.

He'd chosen the wrong side and he knew that. He realised that the moment he saw her curled in the corner of the room in the Sheriff's station with someone else protecting her. Someone else that wasn't him.

It was meant to be him. He needed it to be him.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

once again, sorry for the long wait.

getting close to the end of season two and I'm glad because I need my babies to be together.
i have so many cute scenes fluff planned it's unbelievable!

thanks for reading <3