#posts: tasks

ii. learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

He’s bleeding from somewhere. The knowledge is there, but it’s a distant sort of knowing. It’s vague, and irrelevant. Or maybe it’s too relevant. The gash on the palm of his hand releases a river of the crimson liquid, and he curls his fingers into his palm, irritating the wound even further.

He doesn’t rip his eyes from hers, even when another cut opens up on his bicep. He has a bit of muscle there, now, no longer making him the smallest in his generation. He’s still small, too frail to be out in the field, but the label DISGRACE is no longer something he has to live with. No, now that he’s out of the red, it’s time for him to learn.

His training isn’t supposed to be this tough. No one else gets subjected to untimely torture – for lack of a more accurate term, make no mistake – but it’s crucial that he learns this. His family is under too much scrutiny for there to be any cracks in his armor.

Vertigo washes over him, and he sways where he stands. The ground gets a bit too close, but he stops just short of falling down. He thinks he sees something that could almost be identified as worry sweep across her face, but it’s gone before he regain his footing.

He’s three months into his eleventh year when he learns how to keep his mouth shut during torture. It’s the first time in a long time that his mother has shown anything resembling pride, but it’s quickly backed by criticisms and all of the things that he could do better.

iii. why aren’t you smiling? why aren’t you smiling?

The nightmare starts when he’s nearing fourteen. Death is something that everyone faces at one point or another – of course he knows that. He’s been taught to avoid death, but ultimately expect it. Everyone will die, yes, but he’s going to die so much sooner than them. It’s his job to die before they do.

The funeral goes by too slowly, and it feels like he’s swallowing battery acid the entire time. He doesn’t shed a tear, doesn’t let his mask of indifference slip. It’s what they want – his mother, his sister, all of them. They’re all looking for a fault, anything to take their minds off of the tragedy they don’t want to face, but he won’t be that distraction. He’s spent too long hurting himself, letting others hurt him, to let something like this – something like death, something he’s been anxiously anticipating – knock him down.

It’s only when he looks at her, watches her disappear up the stairs that he truly feels the burn of their loss. Two family members – two attachments, so stupid, attachments are too dangerous – gone, in one fell swoop.

Oh.

iv. i feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream; so tell me when it kicks in

Algorithms make sense. Numbers, sequences, definitions, equations, laws of nature. Things that can be processed in a computer, or in the mind, put to the test, clearly defined and publicized: those are the things that, even when they’re confusing and unclear, always have a definite answer.

One plus one will always equal two. Thirteen to the fourth power will always be twenty eight thousand five hundred and sixty one.

Eighty six thousand and four hundred seconds are in a day. Over thirty one million seconds in a year.

Things like that are consistent. They never change, so even when the answer isn’t known to you, there is always an answer. There is always someone out there who can make sense of it, and hundreds of thousands of others who can give the same answer and explanation.

Feelings don’t make sense. The way that the heart beats erratically in the presence of one person, but will remain at the same, even rhythm around someone else. The way that your chest tightens painfully at the sight of someone that you supposedly love in the arms of someone else. The way that the air always seems to escape your lungs when you learn that someone that you love isn’t there anymore.

You may fall in love with one person, but can only see their identical twin as a friend, or a sibling figure.

You feel elated when someone smiles at you, but tears push at your eyes when they smile at someone else.

The death of a distant relative leaves you feeling pity, but the death of a complete stranger on the news leaves you in numb shock.

That’s the complexity of mankind. It’s all fascinating, and Percy wants to decode it all. He wants to understand. Matters of the mind come easy to him. He isn’t the greatest fighter, and he hasn’t been taught how to understand the matters of the heart. But when it comes to math, and science, he excels.

(There’s no room in this life for thinkers. They’re supposed to be doers. He’s supposed to be the muscle, not the brain. It’s another failure, on his part.)

He’s fifteen years old when he builds his first robot. It doesn’t look too bad, and it speaks to him. He smiles at it, brighter than he should, maybe, and doesn’t wonder how his sister would react to seeing his creation. No, not at all.

v. i’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart, but your blade, it might be too sharp

His feet are swept from under him before he’s even ready for it. It’s his own fault, of course. He should’ve had his guard up from the start. His back hits the ground, and he rolls to the side without taking a moment to gather his bearings, as not a second later, a dagger pierces the spot where he previously landed. He executes a messy scissor kick – gonna get so much shit for that – bringing his opponent down to the ground.

He springs up from the ground, hyper aware of everyone and everything around him. Such an idiot, he should’ve known better than to just walk in. Every room is liable to turn into battle ground, but the training room is the perfect place for an ambush. He subtly checks his surroundings. One, two, three – there are at least four people surrounding him, and they’re all armed.

There’s no way to win this – not for him, anyway – but he won’t run. That’s what they want. This is all a game to them, a test to the ones above them. He’s game, right now and forever, and they’re all bloodthirsty.

The one who attacked first – Caleb – rises to his feet, and twirls his dagger around. He eyes Percy with a dangerous gleam in his eye, searching for any sign of weakness. Percy knows his older cousins won’t really hurt him, but his family has nothing against spilling a bit of blood. If he does get hurt, then it’s just a sign that he needs to toughen up, and train more. As if that’s even possible.

He’s the youngest here, even younger than most of the spectators, but he keeps his chin up, chest out, and beckons his cousins to attack. If they want a fight, he’ll give them one.

Reese – at his back – lunges toward him, and Percy turns just in time to block the attack. He grips the older boy’s arm, flipping him onto his back, and turning to block a punch from Jonah in the same second. The punch is a distraction, however, and he gets a knee to the stomach. A foot flies from somewhere, and a kick is delivered to his head. He crashes to the ground – not an unusual occurrence – and tries to catch his breath, but another kick, even harder and more damaging than the last, is delivered directly to his sternum.

His vision blurs dangerously, and he tries to crawl away, but can barely breathe. Every breathed is ragged and painful, and he wheezes pathetically. Black spots dot his vision, and his entire body shakes from the lack of air. His asthma doesn’t usually act up, not like this, but Quincy knows what he’s doing. Anatomy majors have an unfair advantage in the field, and kids like Percy are always at a sore disadvantage. He hears one of them mutter something – Xander would’ve never gotten hit like that – and hears the telltale sounds of a switch blade being opened, and he rolls onto his back just in time.

Taking Caleb’s ankle in his hand, he pulls it closer to him and twists. The eldest of the five falls to the ground, crying out in agony, and Percy springs up from the ground. Quince is the most distracted of the remaining three, and Percy appears behind him, as if out of thin air, and delivers a sharp chop to the back of his neck. It’s more stunning than it is paralyzing, and it’s the shock that sends him to the ground. Jonah attacks next, his knife slicing the side of Percy’s face, but the younger manages to dodge the punch that follows, and he wraps his hands around the back of Jonah’s neck, driving his knee into his stomach, before throwing him to the ground. Reese, the last one standing, is already heading his way, but it’s nothing for Percy to sidestep the attack, catching his cousin’s arm in his grip, and twisting it behind his back. Reese starts to struggle, but stops when he realizes that a knife – his knife, to be precise – is pressed against his neck.

(These guys are tough, especially as a unit, but he’s trained with better.)

“I win,” Percy – like an idiot – pants.

“No, you don’t.” Click.

The youngest boy’s face drops when he hears it. Of fucking course. His grip loosens, and Reese jerks out of his grip. His four cousins, including the boy on the ground, all grin smugly at him, and Percy hears the man behind him pull the trigger. The chamber is empty, but the defeat is still humiliating. “Guess I don’t,” he mutters, turning to face his uncle.

The man lightly taps the butt of his gun against the top of Percy’s head, before handing it to the seventeen year old. “Never be caught off guard,” he preaches, eyes cold and unforgiving. They’re always like that when it comes to training. There’s no room for forgiveness, or for sympathy, and pride is only rewarded to perfection. “Examine your surroundings closely. You saw the four them with knives, and didn’t realize that two others in the room were holding guns. You need to be aware of everything, Percy. That’s–”

“I know,” the teen bites out. He doesn’t want to hear it again. That’s how they died. Yes, he knows. He knows that Xander had been caught off guard, knows that Leila had been caught in some sort of rage and let her emotions take hold. He knows that he has to be one, five, ten steps ahead at all times. God, he knows.

(As if he doesn’t spend his nights suffocating, choking on grief, teeth digging his pillow as he bites back screams and cries. It was a long time ago, and it was inevitable, but they were family. And even though he knows that it shouldn’t mean anything, it meant everything. It means everything. The loss of his cousin still holds him in a vice, and even that doesn’t compare to the loss of his sister. As if – no, because – he knows that she’s still alive. She’s alive out there, somewhere, close, but he has to pretend, every day for the rest of his life, that she’s dead. Every day, he has to put on a mask of indifference, or disgust, when she comes up in conversation, because he doesn’t have a damn choice, but my God, does he miss her.

The loss of Xander and Leila pushes the rest of his family to be stronger, and to hone their senses, and never let anything slip. Their loss just reminds him that they’re all on borrowed time,and this isn’t how he wants to spend his.)

vi.  take a deep breath, you’re too worried about bein’ the best out

He comes into this world kicking and screaming in the early hours of the morning. He’s the second child, and he’s supposedly destined for greatness. He’s a small thing, but he’ll grow. He’ll grow, and he’ll rise above the rest.

He’s named Percy after the Greek warrior, Perseus. A hero, a conqueror, a young god, and, in the end, a star. Even in death, he was glorious, and so will this Percy be. Except, this Percy has no room for love, or for pride, or for any weakness that requires assistance. This one will be far better than the myth.

The true difference lies in character. Percy can’t become what Perseus was. He’ll never be a hero. There is no room in this family, in this town, for heroes. Only the hunters and the wolves. There is no villain, no mastermind, no gods to fight or to please. There are just those who hunt and those who are hunted.

vii. i remember you said, “don’t leave me here alone”

He lies dying, some undisclosed time down the line, alone but surrounded by others just like him, when he realizes that he doesn’t even know which category he fell into. Laughter bubbles out of him, and he feels tears fall from his eyes as that sinks in. When was the last time he cried? How old had he been? Young, he thinks. Too young for be pushing back tears, no doubt.

He wonders if this is what his mother wanted. He wonders if this is the death she pictured for him. He wonders if she thought – just for a second – that this could be an ambush, just like the ones she used to craft for him, so many years ago. He wonders if she’ll be proud of his death, or disappointed that he died, lying among the monsters that he was sent to kill.

He keeps laughing, tears mixing with blood, and the silence is the only thing that answers him. The laughs dissolve into quiet sobs, as one person – the one constant throughout his life, even though she was absent for a lot of it – enters his mind. He wonders who’s going to tell her that he died; if they’ll tell her that he died. He wonders if she’ll lose her mind the same way he thinks she did when Xander died, but doubts it. And it’s not fair, he knows it isn’t. He can’t compare to Xander, because theirs was a different relationships. Having a partner in the field, having someone at your back, requires a sort of trust and balance that can’t be compared to anything else. Their presence is grounding, and that loss is earth shattering. Xander was her partner; he’s just the little brother. And a sibling is about as close to a stranger as you can get in this family.

How sad is it that, even with that knowledge in mind, he still wishes she were here? He just wishes he’d had the chance to say goodbye.

At least, he thinks, the pain has stopped. It’s horrifying how calm he is, considering pain tells you that you’re alive. If you don’t feel pain, you’re probably dying. He knows that, but he’s okay with that.

It’s okay.

His body shakes on the ground, and silence finally fills the space around them. His breathing is getting slower and shallower, and his vision darkens. It’s kind of sad, too. A shame, really. The sky is so beautiful tonight. He can’t see a single star, and the simplicity of it is the most beautiful thing. He closes his eyes, and drags in one more rugged breath.

Allison somehow brings in Jackson Whittemore, who’s always had some vendetta against him and Stiles... mostly Stiles, and Lydia Martin, who Stiles has been in love with since the third grade. (Probably why Jackson hates him so much.) And they’re closed off, at first; Lydia is only interested in solving the mystery, and Jackson is only interested in being the very best. And Scott compromises both of those things, because suddenly he’s co-captain of the lacrosse team, and he’s hiding things. He thinks they both hate him a little, at first, and he doesn’t blame them. He never wanted to get in their way. He never meant to get on their radar, but because of Allison, because of his relationship with Allison, he is, and he can’t get off. 

And it takes a long time, but they start to trust him. Jackson stops hating him -- never gives a reason for why, but then again, Scott doesn’t really ask -- and starts to treat him like a comrade. Scott doesn’t ask to be treated like a leader, or like a friend: Jackson just does. The true captain of the lacrosse team (because it will never be Scott) starts smiling at him, starts looking out for him. The first time anyone ever refers to Scott as Jackson’s friend, Scott’s seriously expecting the jock to cut them down, and deny any sort of relationship with the other wolf, but it never happens.  Jackson confides in him about Gerard, and he’s the first person that Scott really talks to about his dad. And, yeah, suddenly they’re friends. Lydia, too. She stops worrying about looking her very best in front of the eyes of all those around her, and she starts worrying about them. She helps them solve important puzzles; not for the thrill of it, like she did at first, but because she cares for them. She cries for them, screams for them, stands up for them. Lydia reaches for Scott’s hand before he thinks he’s allowed to reach for hers, and they never quite let go.

Isaac, Erica, and Boyd come next. It’s different with them, because they don’t meet Scott, first. They don’t even know who he is until after Derek turns them -- turns them against him. 

(Derek, by the way, is the biggest mystery in Scott’s life. From the very beginning, Scott can’t figure out for the life of him if Derek wants to see him succeed, or perish the way that Peter did. And while Scott doesn’t hate Derek, could never hate him, he doesn’t see why Derek hates him. And maybe it hurts a lot more than it should. Maybe it shouldn’t matter to Scott what someone like Derek thinks, but Scott... he kind of looks up to Derek. He doesn’t want to be the way that Derek is -- doesn’t want to be scared, and distant, and angry at the world -- but he wants Derek to be proud of him.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever make Derek proud, or make Derek really love or care for him at all, but he knows that eventually, Derek stops looking at him like a stain on the face of the earth, and softens toward him. He becomes a better mentor, and he’s there for Scott, and he saves Scott’s life. It’s the knowledge that Derek doesn’t hate him anymore that one day puts a smile on Scott’s face. He can’t ask for much from Derek, or from anyone else, so it’s enough.

Anyway. The three betas.)

Erica is epileptic. Or she was, anyway. Derek probably saves her life when he bites her -- it’d be honorable, if not for the fact that she could’ve died -- but she doesn’t change for better. And Scott gets that. Given the hurt and humiliation she’s faced, no one expects her to be a ball of sunshine. Isaac is the formerly abused boy who lives across the street from Jackson. Becoming a werewolf is the best thing that ever happens to him, but it happens at the wrong time; he gets framed for his father’s murder, and the situation Derek inserts him into isn’t the best. Boyd was just... invisible. And maybe it isn’t the same as being epileptic or abused, but it’s just as horrible. Scott knows because he’s been there. But at least Scott had Stiles, back then. Boyd had been all alone, and that -- that’s the reason he so readily turns against Scott. They all do, and Scott doesn’t hate them, doesn’t blame them for it, at all. They fight him, and even though he defends himself, he isn’t okay fighting them back. He can’t.

On top of that, they’re fighting Jackson, while trying to save him. Because Jackson doesn’t want any of this, doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Matt Daehler and Gerard Argent are despicable people, and they’re the only people in the world that Scott can work up a hatred for. Because even if Jackson hates him at the time, Scott still wants the best for him, Scott still cares for him. And even if the rest of the world wants to kill Jackson, and Matt and Gerard, Scott refuses. He’s going to save Jackson, no matter what. That’s the reason they all turn against him. They’re feuding because Scott refuses to kill the boy that’s unknowingly killing everyone else. But Scott doesn’t care. He’s going to save Jackson, even if he has to fight off the entire world to do it.

(Though killing Jackson doesn’t seem all that bad when he catches him naked and trying to pin Allison in locker room. Under someone else’s control or not, there’s a line.)

It isn’t until after they do save Jackson that the three betas start to view Scott as more of a friend than an enemy. Maybe they still dislike him, maybe they’ll never respect him, but they aren’t trying to kill him, or anyone else, anymore and that’s all he cares about. When they start to love him -- when Isaac becomes one of his best friends, and Erica starts to laugh with him -- Scott feels... he doesn’t know what to call it. There’s no word in the English language for it. But it’s a good feeling. The best feeling.

In the midst of this mess, Scott meets Lucy Knight. Terrifying, confusing circumstances bring her into the pack. He isn’t the alpha at the time, isn’t even thinking of ever becoming an alpha, so he isn’t much help. It’s Derek, Erica and Isaac who coach her through the hardest parts of becoming a wolf. Scott isn’t really one of them. The three of them, plus Lucy and Derek, they’re a pack of their own. They’re something that Scott will never a part of, he thinks. So he stands back, and he only helps when he knows he can, without stepping on any toes. Lucy’s the most terrified of them all. She isn’t like the other three, who turn into super models with bad attitudes. She’s as beautiful as she ever was, but she’s terrified, and this is all too much for her. Scott wishes, more than anything, that there was some kind of magic that could reverse the bite, and take her memories of the horrible things she’d had to learn. He wishes he could help her, but he’s useless. Always would be.

Lucy becomes the bravest of them all. She stops crying when things get scary, and she starts fighting. She’ll probably always be a lover before she’s a fighter, but she knows how to fight back. She defends herself and her pack. She stops letting people take advantage of her, stops letting them walk all over her. She becomes so much more than she ever dreamed she could be, and Scott’s so proud of her. He’s proud of her for who she becomes, and who she learns to see herself as. She’ll never have Lydia’s confidence, or Jackson’s swagger, but she doesn’t hate herself, anymore. She doesn’t look down at herself, or just let it slide when others do. She’s nothing to be looked down at, and she finally sees that.

Riley Maes is another addition to the pack. It’s a slower process, but also one of the quickest. She’s Lucy’s best friend, her rock and self-proclaimed guardian, and she’s the first to catch on when things start changing. She’s a fiery spirit, and when she discovers that the supernatural is all real, she takes it in stride. All she cares about is that she’s there with Lucy, and that her best friend is taken care of. The rest, she can handle. All she cares for is Lucy, and Scott admires that more than anything.

Fiona Porter and Katie Conrad are witches. And though they come at different times, they’re one in the same. From the second they meet each other, they’re inseparable. They bring a new life to the pack, one that they weren’t aware they were missing. They’re fun and free, and still two of the most protective people Scott has ever met. They’re younger than the rest of them, though, and they’re so naive, and Scott fears what will happen to them. And when the witches end up comatose -- with Riley dead, fuck, Riley and Tyler are both dead -- Scott sits by their beds and apologizes for hours. He isn’t the alpha, but he knew. He saw it coming from miles away, knew that their powers would swallow them before long, and this is the result of him keeping his mouth shut.

Scott blames himself for that. His silence is why Jackson loses his cousin to a long sleep, and runs to London without looking back. He’s the reason Isaac goes to such extreme lengths to bring his brother back. He’s the reason that Lucy loses herself in her grief. Because he knew something would happen, but couldn’t even open his mouth to warn them, to stop them. That void in his heart doesn’t get smaller or wider, but it feels a hell of a lot like an abyss, now.

(And maybe that’s why he so easily falls to temptation at that motel. He knows that it’s some sort of magic that drives him to do what he does. Scott isn’t suicidal. Even if he doesn’t see much worth in his life, he has no desire to die. And even if he did want to, he wouldn’t. He has too many people who he loves and needs to protect, too many who love him.

But he’s so goddamn tired. He’s sick of fighting a losing battle. He’s sick of letting everyone down, sick of watching people die. There’s no hope left in this town, no hope left in him. He doesn’t want to live with this weight in his chest, anymore. He doesn’t want to keep fighting against an enemy that he can’t beat. He’s so tired of lying to people, and trying to be more than he is, more than he can ever be. He’s tired of people hating him, tired of hating himself. What’s the fucking point in surviving, anymore?

Allison is the one to remind that there is hope. There’s hope as long as he keeps living. But it’s only when Stiles steps into that puddle with him, putting himself in danger, that Scott snaps out of it. Because Scott doesn’t really care if he dies, but he can’t kill Stiles. He can’t let anything happen to Stiles.)

Things do get better. Scott’s mom adopts this girl -- Maya Carlisle. And while her story is just as horrible as anyone else’s, Scott quickly learns to love her. (It’s one of his biggest problems; he gets attached so easily, gets hurt so easily.) She becomes his little sister, and Scott thinks she’s a mark of better times in their lives. She teaches him how to cook, cooks for and with him, teams up with him to get his mom to take work off. She becomes close with the sheriff, and with the pack. She’s a werewolf, like him, and even though her circumstances are no better than his, she starts smiling a lot sooner than he does.

While the witches sleep, the pack finds Boyd -- who’d been taken by the alpha pack -- and Cora. Cora, as in, Derek’s baby sister Cora, who isn’t as dead as Derek thought. And it’s a process, getting the two of them to talk to anyone who isn’t the other. Cora’s closed off, and afraid of the world. She’s afraid of all of them, even Derek. She starts to trust Lucy and Isaac, first, but soon opens her heart to all of them. And it’s not a fast thing; it’s not a complete thing. It isn’t as if she’s completely guarded on day, then sitting in someone’s lap, the next. It takes years for her to even feel comfortable touching someone who isn’t Derek. They never find out what happened to her in the past, but they don’t need to know. What matters is the Cora they have now, the one who dances when she thinks no one’s watches, and smiles like a shooting star in unexpected moments. Cora doesn’t ever completely come out of the shell she’s build for herself, but she learns to blossom within it. And that’s okay, too.

(Boyd... dies. And it’s the hardest thing their pack experiences, especially so soon after Prom night, and it hurts so damn much. They all carry a piece of the blame with them, but they move on. It’s what Boyd would want, and all they know how to do.)

The witches wake up, and it takes a long time for them to work through their grief, but they eventually do. They bounce back from their sadness, the way that only they know how. It’s the worst thing to ever happen to either of them, Scott knows, but they grow from it. They mature, and they learn their limits. They learn that magic isn’t something to be taken lightly, or toyed around with. They learn so much, all in the worst way, but they retain their light. If anything, they become bubblier and happier. It’s one of the most awe-inspiring things Scott ever witnesses. They still have the brightest smiles, and the brightest spirits. And Scott thinks... no. He knows that if the two of them had never woken up, the entire pack would feel a certain emptiness that they would never quite be able to place.

Kira Yukimura is... for a while, she’s Scott’s entire world. She enters his life at maybe the best and worst time. Her dad’s the new history teacher, and she’s the newest mystery in school. No one knows much about her, but Scott is interested in finding out. She’s a stumbling, rambling dork, and Scott loves that about her. She also turns out to be a thunder kitsune, who knows how to wield a katana, and Scott loves that, too.

(”You have a type,” Cora says one day, with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. Ice cream he’s pretty sure she used his debit card to buy. “Don’t look at me like that. You have a type, and you know it.”)

He goes through a lot with Kira. She enters his life in the time when Stiles is sick, and not even himself. Scott feels emptier than he ever has before in that time, because all roads have always led back to Stiles for him. He’s always had comfort in the fact that, if everyone in the pack were to leave him today, he would have Stiles. But he doesn’t have Stiles now, and it isn’t fair to Allison, or Lucy, or the rest of the pack, but Scott doesn’t think he would have made it through that time, if not for Kira.

(He later loses Kira to Cora, but that’s okay. It’s a choice that all three of them kind of make. Scott breaks up with Kira, because heartbreak is something’s gotten quite used to. But Cora has lost too much in her life, been rejected too many times. And Kira loves Cora, too, and the last thing Scott wants is to stand in the way. He’s done that too many times, already.)

It’s with Kira that he saves Stiles, and finds Malia Tate. Malia is Peter Hale’s daughter, and a werecoyote. She, like all of the Hales who aren’t Katie, has a difficult time trusting them. She’s rawer than the others, but just as heavily guarded. The only person she’s interested in saving is herself, and that’s okay. Scott doesn’t think she’s right or wrong in what she believes -- it just is how it is. And he doesn’t find any fault in who Malia is. But she changes, too. She gains a pack mentality of her own, and she starts to put the pack before herself. She starts to love them the way they love her, love each other, and she learns to be happy again.

Liam Dunbar is the last to join the pack, the first and only person Scott ever bites. He’s like a freshman Jackson, talented beyond comprehension and way too hard on himself, but Liam is a lot angrier. He has so many issues, keeps a dagger of disappointment pointed at his own heart, and pushes everyone away before they can try to help him. He hates the bite, hates Scott, and Scott hates himself a bit, too. Even though he’d done it for Liam’s own safety, it wasn’t Liam’s choice. And Scott had vowed to never do what Peter had done to him, what Kali had done to Maya, but he had. He’d turned someone else, and ruined their life. But Liam stops hating Scott, stops hating what he’s become. He grows into who and what he is, and he lets the pack in. He stops being so angry all the time, and he starts opening up to them. He makes a lot of progress in such a small amount of time, and Scott can’t help but be proud of the boy.

It’s these people that he graduates with. He walks across the stage and throws his cap in the air with those his age, and grins down at the others in the audience. He made it; they made it. Even though none of them had really imagined living to graduate, they had, and that makes all the difference in the world.

They hold a graduation party of their own, and they all have fun. Scott dances wildly, moving between friends every so often. He’s a typhoon, but they all laugh and dance with them whenever he comes up to them. They dance, and they laugh, and it’s the best night of Scott’s life. Here, surrounded by the people that he loves more than he can say -- the family that he’s always wanted -- he feels the most at peace. It hits him, then, just how much he truly does love them. He looks around at all of the people who’ve entered his life and stayed, never letting go of him, and realizes that he’ll go insane if he loses even one of them. And it’s in that moment that Scott vows to do whatever he can to be a better alpha, to be there for them.

And, it’s later, when Scott is siphoning pain from Liam as his ankle heals that he realizes something important: they’re all here. Yes, they’ve lost a few along the way, and yes, it’s been harder than they can put into words, but they’re all there. No matter how they entered the pack, or when, they’re here now. No matter how hopeless things have seemed, they all rose from the ashes, and became better than they were before. None of them have perfect families --- some of them don’t have families, at all. But they became a perfect family of their own. They all have different backgrounds, different thoughts, different feelings, different personalities, but they’re all pieces of a puzzle, and God, they’re a masterpiece. Scott’s just one piece of that puzzle, a part of something so much bigger and better, but he’s grateful that he is.

She turns her head for the first time, and stares at it. So she’s in the hospital. What for?

Her mother is the one grasping her hand, sobbing over her as if she’s experiencing some miracle. Fiona tries to call out to her mom, but her throat is drier than the Sahara. Before she can try to ask for water, a nurse is tipping a cup on her lips, and water flows in her mouth. She gulps it down greedily before its taken away. She chokes on it a little, and she’s suddenly come to life. “Mom,” she croaks, feeling completely exhausted for some reason. She leans back against her pillows, and tries to catch her breath.

“Oh, baby,” Moira cries, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “My baby. My baby.”

And Fiona starts to panic. She doesn’t know why her mom is being so weird and freaking out so much, nor does she know why she’s even in the hospital. The last thing she remembers is getting ready for Prom, which clearly isn’t the last thing that happened. “Mommy?” She has no idea why the moniker slips out, but it’s not like it’s unusual for her to call her mom that. “Mom, why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

The next few minutes are kind of hazy. Her parents and the doctors all talk at once, explaining to her that she and some of her friends passed out at Prom, and she... well, she never woke up. The memories come back to Fiona in a flash, and she feels an overwhelming sense of horror. “Katie,” she chokes, trying to get out of the bed. Multiple hands reach out at her, holding her to the bed, but she fights them off. “Let me go, I need to go check on Katie!” She doesn’t know why she needs to see Katie so badly. She wants to see Katie and Cole and Isaac, because they were all in that circle, but something in her is screaming at her to check on Katie first. “Let me go!”

They keep her pinned to the bed, and her father speaks firmly, telling her that Katie is just fine, in fact, he heard that she’s waking up now, too, and so is that Colette girl. Isaac woke up the morning after Prom, and he’s just fine. No one mentions Riley, but the nurse -- whose voice is annoyingly familiar -- tells them that Erica is on her way, and Fiona loses her train of thought.

Her mother continues to cry, and her father continues to pace, and when Erica bursts into the room like a woman possessed, all Fee can do is give her a look that’s some cross between amused and exasperated, as if asking, what took you so long?

Then Erica is in her lap, and Fiona holds on for dear life. They cry for and with each other, and Fiona feels better with the knowledge that Rey is okay. It takes time, but she finally pries the truth of that night out of Erica. Fiona cries even more after that, after the knowledge of what’s happened to Riley, and what Katie must be feeling.

It’s nearing night time when they finally let her go see Katie. She apparently needs a thousand escorts, but she slowly makes her way down the hall. When the nurse opens the door to Katie’s room, Fiona’s knees almost give out. Her tiny best friend is sitting in the bed, tears on her face, her parents and Jackson on either side of her, and when their eyes meet, Fiona can’t help but cry out for her. She rips away from the nurses and her parents and she comes crashing down on Katie’s bed, landing in her best friend’s arms. She feels Katie’s mom rubbing her back soothingly, can feel Jackson sitting on the other side of Katie, but doesn’t care. “I’m sorry,” she sobs into Katie’s shoulder. Their bodies shake from the force of their grief, but Fiona feels like she can finally breathe again. “I’m so sorry, Katie. I’m so sorry.”

It’s the worst day of Fiona’s life. It hurts so much, learning what they’d done, what she hadn’t stopped, that night, but it signifies something. The day Fiona wakes up, she swears that she won’t ever let anything like that happen again. Magic is never going to ruin their lives again. Katie will not, for any reason, ever cry like that. She will never be so stupid, or so helpless. She will never be the cause of destruction again, and neither will magic.

Anna tugs at her hand. “Cora,” she six year old whines. “C’mon. Let’s go play!” And it’s not like Cora has anything better to do, so she allows her baby sister to drag her around the house. They play hide and seek for a while -- the house is pretty big, with lots of places to hide -- and then they play on the swing set in the backyard. Uncle Peter watches them as they play; he seems more interested in his phone, but she sees his eyes flicker up to them every minute or so to make sure they haven’t gotten themselves into any danger.

By the time six-fifty rolls around, Anna’s pulled out coloring books and crayons, and the two of them lie in the bed in her room, scribbling away at pictures of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. They aren’t supposed to color in the bed, but Laura says everything is okay as long as you don’t get caught. Anna sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, messing up a few words, and Cora doesn’t comment. She focuses on coloring inside of the lines, making sure every line is perfect. When Daddy comes upstairs, she’ll ask him to hang it up for her.

“Cora?”

“Hm,” the eleven year old responds distractedly.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?” The question catches Cora off guard, mainly because she’s never thought of it before. She looks up at Anna, who has abandoned her crayon and coloring book, now resting her head on one of Cora’s many pillows. She’s slowly but surely falling asleep, so Cora moves the coloring books and crayons out of the way and lies down next to her.

The older sister thinks about it for a moment. “I want to leave the house,” she whispers in response.

Cora’s a family secret. In all eleven years of her life, she’s never left the house. The farthest she’d ever gone was to the ice cream shop right at the edge of the preserve with Uncle Peter, but she’d had a hood over her eyes, rendering her blind to the world around her. She’s too volatile, too out of control, for the real world. If she goes out, she could really hurt someone. That’s what Mom says, anyway. It’s better for Cora to stay within the house until she’s old enough to control her wolf. 

(Sneaking out of the house to wreck Laura’s boyfriend’s car probably didn’t help her case much. She still doesn’t regret it.)

Currently, she’s still getting chained up in the basement every full moon, and still wolfs out at random moments. They just can’t risk her losing her temper on the outside. 

The only people who know that she exists are the pack members, Dr. Deaton, and a woman named Satomi. She meets with Dr. Deaton regularly, because her parents can’t quite understand why she can’t control herself the way any of them -- including Anna -- can. Even when the vet tells them that it isn’t that there’s something wrong with her, she just needs a bit of help, her parents worry. Satomi is kind to her when she visits, but Talia is adamant that Cora remains in control around the woman. She can’t always do that, so sometimes she gets sent to her room, or to the basement. “It’s not a punishment,” Daddy promises every time. “We’re giving you space to cool down, that’s all. We love you, Cora. We just want you to be okay.”

Her only dream is to see the outside of the house. She wants to leave the preserve, see the rest of Beacon Hills, the rest of the world. She wants to meet people, wants to experience the pain and the fun that her big brother and sister get to experience every day. She wants to go to school, and make friends, and go to dances, and plays sports. She wants to go to one of Derek’s games, cheer him on with the rest of the family.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get the chance to, though.

“What do you want to do, Anna,” she asks out of genuine curiosity. Anna isn’t the type of person to ask a question like that without having her own response in mind. Her sister’s only a kid, but she’s smart, and she does have plans for the future.

“Be a princess,” the six year old giggles. Plans that, apparently, involve becoming a princess.

Cora laughs, feeling a bit of sleepiness herself. “What if you can’t become a princess? Then what are you going to do?”

Anna thinks about it for a second, and Cora would think that her sister fell asleep, if not for the fact that her eyes are open, then she shakes her head with a smile. “I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

Cora blinks. “You do?”

The younger girl nods. “It doesn’t matter what I do, or where I am. But I always want to be with you, Cora. Forever and ever.”

Something about that makes Cora’s heart swell up, and the eleven year old swallows her emotions and smiles at her baby sister. “We’re going to be together forever, silly. You’re the only little sister I have. You and me, Mommy, Daddy, Der, Laur, and Uncle Peter. We’re always going to be together. No matter what.”

“Promise,” Anna asks, her eyes finally fluttering shut.

“I promise.”

At 7:01, Cora falls asleep with her baby sister.

At 7:10, Cora wakes up, feeling thirsty.

At 7:11, Cora hears screaming, and goes down to the basement.