A/N: Hello, friends.

I know, it's been a long time. I haven't updated in about three and a half years, and while there's really no excuse, 2017 was the worst year of my life, I haven't really had a break since then, and I lost ALL motivation to write anything, including other stuff I've been working on for years, so... Lols, I guess.

If I'm honest, I think another issue for me was how Teen Wolf turned out. I don't know what it was exactly, but after Season 3B, it just wasn't the same for me. Maybe it was all my favourite characters leaving or dying (Jackson, Allison and then Derek? Like. Jeez, who do we even have left?), maybe it's just because I never feel satisfied with a show's ending, even if objectively it's a good ending, maybe I just don't like endings. I dunno. I just know that around the end of 3B, it stopped being this show that I loved dearly, and I ended up finishing it more out of loyalty than anything else. I didn't want to tell that story anymore, because I stopped enjoying it. So I may very well go a different way with this fic now, which could be fun, I don't know. I always love to imagine the group at college and into their adult lives anyway, so I guess we'll see?

On a side note, Polyvore has now shut down. Sad face. And because I haven't really been anywhere near this story or anything else I have in the works since I last uploaded, I didn't know it was closing until long after it had, so couldn't move my outfit and story pieces over onto this other, similar website I found. So they're lost forever. So that's cool.

Also, yes, the chapter title is, at least in part, a reference to Naya Rivera and the song she sang on Glee because I am GUTTED about her death and I can't stop thinking about it, and her, and her son, and just generally how awful the whole thing is.

I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.

As the sun began to peek through his curtains, brightening his room, Josh awoke with a start.

For a long moment, he wondered what it was that had thrown him from his sleep so sharply, so abruptly. He couldn't remember a bad dream, there wasn't a car alarm or a ringing phone, and that damned cat wasn't in his room, so that eliminated the usual suspects. But even as he considered the other possibilities, he felt a tingling in his fingertips. At first, it seemed perfectly normal. He must have been lying on his hand in his sleep, cut off the blood flow. The tingling would stop any second now.

Except it didn't.

In fact, it began to spread. And, as it did, Josh became swamped with pain, with grief. He didn't know why, but his whole body ached and he could feel tears in his eyes. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, or why, until one, single word rose in his throat, breaking out of his mouth before he could think.

"Amber."

"What do you mean, she's missing?" Scott asked, marching up the porch steps to meet Josh, holding the front door wide open for he and Kira to pass through.

"What do you think I mean?" Josh said, his eyes narrowed. He didn't have the energy or the patience to be nice about it. Not today. "Amber's missing. I haven't seen her since last night."

"Last night?" Scott repeated, his eyebrows high on his head. Josh nodded.

"She came home last night after being out all day looking for Stiles," he began, leading the pair into the living room, where his dad sat on the couch, head hanging low. He'd barely said a word all day. "We spoke, we ate, then she went to bed."

"And you haven't seen her since?"

Josh shook his head. "She's usually up before me, but when I got up and she wasn't, I figured she was just exhausted from last night. Then another hour went by and she still wasn't up, so I went to check on her, and..."

"What time was that?" Scott asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"About ten this morning."

Scott almost growled. "So why did it take you so long to call me?" Scott said, worried. "It's been hours."

Josh laughed, shaking his head. "We tried," he pointed out. "We've been calling you. You didn't pick up."

Scott turned back to Kira, guilt masking his face. "We've been trying to figure some stuff out," he explained, blowing out a breath. "Mainly, how to stop the Nogitsune."

"It's my fault," Kira butted in, stepping forward. "We've been at the school all day, with my parents. Turns out, my mom has been through all of this before. She was telling us the whole thing."

Josh paused for a second, watched his dad stare at nothing.

"Did you learn anything new?" Josh asked, hands on his hips. "Anything of use?" Scott nodded. "Good. So let's find Amber, and then you can fill us all in on what you've got. Okay?"

Scott looked over at Kira once more, his face not giving much away, before he nodded again.

Josh turned back to the couch, to the cardigan he had already found, laying over the back of it. "She was wearing this yesterday. I figured you'd need something that smelled like her."

Scott nodded again, smiled. "Normally, yeah. But Amber's different, I can find her without it." He took a step back, towards the door. "Thank you, though. I'll call you as soon as I find anything."

Josh waited a beat after Scott and Kira closed the door behind them, then turned back to his father. For a second, Josh thought about giving him some excuse as to where he was going, feeding him some lie. And then he realised he didn't need to. The man had shut himself off into his own little world, the same way he had when their mom had died. With each hour that had passed since they'd realised something was wrong, that she wasn't just on a quick morning run, he had gotten quieter and quieter. He hadn't spoken for at least three hours now. Hadn't moved for two.

Finally following Scott and Kira outside, Josh called to them, stopping them as Scott swung a leg over his bike.

"What is it?" Scott asked, eyebrows low. "We can't wait, it's gonna get cold out soon."

"I know, I just..." Josh trailed off, slowing to a stop beside the bike. "I think something's really wrong."

Scott tipped his head, smiling to try to comfort him. "I'm sure she's fine. She's probably just trying to find Stiles. Maybe she got lost, or stuck somewhere." Josh had started shaking his head long before Scott had finished speaking.

"When I woke up this morning, before I even realised Amber wasn't there, I felt..." Josh trailed off for a second. Shrugged. "Something."

"Something?" Scott repeated, frown on his face.

Josh nodded. "Like, a weird tingling, all over my body. And then everything started hurting, and I started feeling really, really sad, for no reason." Josh folded his arms over his chest, tight. He wasn't sure he was explaining it right, but Scott didn't ask any more questions. "I just... I'm scared." He took a quick breath, bit the inside of his cheek. "I can't..."

Josh, not even sure of what he was feeling, let alone how to convey those feelings to Scott McCall, trailed off. To his surprise, though, Scott nodded.

"I'm gonna find her," Scott promised, his eyes not leaving Josh's for a second. "I'm gonna bring her home, okay?" Josh nodded. "Besides, we have that link, remember? I'd know if something was really wrong."

Josh, ever hopeful, refused to remind Scott, or himself, that they didn't know if that was a two way street. Instead, he nodded again, biting down on his cheek until he tasted blood. He watched as Scott started up the bike, spun it around and sped off towards the street with Kira, disappearing from view.

"What link?" Kira asked Scott, her voice deliberately pleasant and unassuming. Scott hummed, too focused on following Amber's scent to really pay any attention. "You mentioned back at the house that the two of you have a link. What did you mean by that?"

Scott straightened, furrowed his brow. He could smell her, he knew he could. But it was faint, like it was an old smell, barely clinging to the air of the preserve around them. Like she had been here, once. But this is the strongest her scent had been since he'd left her home. They'd left the bike ages ago, they were miles from the house, and he knew he was following her trail, but it was like she hadn't been here all day. How far could she have gotten? How much further did she plan to go?

"I'm an alpha," Scott started explaining, looking around him for any kind of sign. "Barely. But, whatever. Amber's a witch. And the witches in her family tend to, I don't know... form bonds, I guess, with packs. They act as Emissaries for werewolves, bridge the divide between werewolves and humans, and become part of the pack." Scott shrugged a shoulder, turned back to Kira for a second. "Because I'm an alpha... because I'm her alpha, she can sense when I'm in danger, especially when it's the life threatening kind."

Kira nodded, intrigued. "So you're thinking, if she can sense you, then you can sense her." Scott nodded back.

"Exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never been able to test that theory, but... I guess there's no better time than the present, right?"

"What about Josh?" Kira asked, following closely behind Scott as he worked. "What do you think his feeling was? Is he a witch too? Warlock? Sorcerer? Whatever the male equivalent is?"

Scott debated his answer for a second. "Honestly? I don't know." He shook his head, paused to survey the woods around him for a moment. "Only the women in their family are witches, but... I don't know, Josh's feeling sounded really similar to how Amber described her magic to us when it first started happening. Feeling like something was wrong before he should have known is one thing, but the tingling... Amber used to say she could feel it in her hands, before it started spreading everywhere else."

"So you think it's magic," Kira surmised, raising her eyebrows at him. Scott shrugged again.

"Maybe," he said, quietly. He didn't want to think about what it meant if Josh did have magic, especially given that it shows up just as Amber disappears.

Just as Scott turned back to Kira, as he began to voice his worries, he realised he was missing something.

"What?" Kira asked him as he span around, sniffing the air. "What's wrong?"

"I can't..." Scott turned back to her, cursed. "I've lost her scent." Kira frowned, moved back a step to let Scott pass back the way they had come. "I just had it, it should have been getting stronger."

"Maybe we went the wrong way," Kira suggested, taking in their surroundings as they walked back, trying to find anything that might help him locate Amber. She heard Scott mumble something, quiet, thoughtful. "Where would she have gone? If she was out here, and she got hurt, or lost, is there any place around here she'd go to?"

Scott stopped suddenly, turned left. Barely, through the trees, Kira could make out a clearing, the evening sky beyond it. Scott nodded.

"We were out here a few weeks ago, for my birthday. Amber and Lydia thought it would be fun to camp here for the night." Scott laughed as he strode up the small hill to the clearing. Kira liked the sound. "It was freezing, and nobody got a good night's sleep, but after everything that had happened with us, it was nice to just forget about it for a night. To just spend some time with friends." They made it to the edge of the tree line, broke through into the open space. For a moment, Kira was taken aback by the beauty of Beacon Hills, laid out before her. As the sun began to set, the town was lit up in all sorts of oranges and pinks. From this distance, she could almost forget all the worries she had on her shoulders. Almost. "She was here," Scott said quietly, breaking her from her thoughts. Quickly, Kira turned back to him, watching. "She was definitely here. But it's faint, like it's fading."

Kira's shoulders slumped. "Like she's not here anymore." Scott nodded. "Well, where would she have gone from here?"

Scott paused, huffed. "I don't know," he said shortly, shaking his head. "But she hasn't been here for a while." Scott closed his eyes for a second, breathed deep. Then he growled, shook his head. "This isn't like her," he said, the worry evident in her voice. Kira opened her mouth, began to say something, but he cut her off, rushed past her.

"What is it?" she asked him, watched him stalk over to what was probably once a campfire. He crouched down, picked at something in the ashes.

"It's her grimoire," Scott answered, unsure. He brushed at the dirt and ash that covered the front, picked at the blackened edges. "It's burnt."

"Did she put it in the fire?" Kira said, the suggestion sounded outrageous even to her own ears.

Scott got to his feet, cradling the book in his arms, gentle. "It was her mom's," he said, as though it answered the question. For him, Kira supposed it did. "She would never burn it."

Kira shrugged. "Maybe she thought it could be dangerous," she said. "If it got into the wrong hands?"

Scott shook his head. "Maybe," he murmured, like he didn't really believe it. He looked up again, scanning the trees. Then, with a perk of his ears, he turned back to Kira. "Do you hear that?"

She frowned. "Hear what?"

"Music."

As Scott whisked passed her, handing the book over to her, Kira's eyes narrowed in concentration. "I can't hear anything."

"It's weird," Scott said, marching away, clearly following the sound. "It's small. Muffled. Like it's close by, but quiet."

Kira made a strange noise. "What does that even..." She considered it for a second. "Like when you can hear music through someone else's headphones?"

"Exactly like that!" Scott said, whipping back around to her for a second. "Headphones. If she was out on a run, she would have brought her headphones."

"So..." Kira trailed off as she caught up with Scott, not stopping in his search for a second. "Is that good news?"

"I don't know yet," he answered honestly, stepping into the trees. "But it's something. And it's coming from over here." Stepping carefully over a few fallen branches, Kira kept the damaged book close to her chest, unwilling to drop it. It was obviously important, she could tell that much. So, when Scott stopped suddenly and she barrelled into the back of him, Kira let out a squeak, grasping onto the book before it fell like her life depended on it.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to untangle her feet from the foliage below her. Scott didn't respond, didn't move, so she stepped around him, curious as to what had drawn him to such a complete stop. When she saw what he had seen, though, she really wished she'd stayed behind him.

Scott had barely moved, hadn't spoken a word, since he'd found her.

From the noise, the movement around him, he knew that Kira had called someone. He wasn't sure who, exactly, but not long after, the Sheriff had shown up with Allison and her dad in tow. He knew they had all seen what he had. Their friend, bloody and bruised, her head at an odd angle, her eyes wide. Dull. Lifeless. Scott didn't think he'd ever be able to get that image out of his head.

Allison, on the other hand, was restless, and did not want to continue this argument with her father.

"We need to call the police," he tried again, his eyes hardening. "If we don't report it now, it'll look suspicious."

"No one even knows we're out here," she pointed out, her own eyes just as steely. "And how do we explain this, exactly? They'll be an investigation, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Her father smiled. "There's no need for an investigation, we know exactly who did this."

"We don't know for sure that it was him," she warned, her voice low, very conscious of the Sheriff behind her, crouched over her friend, picking the leaves from her hair.

"Who else would want her dead?" he questioned. Interrogated might have been a better word for it, actually.

"Why would he want her dead?" she shot back, shaking her head. "He could have killed anyone of us, at any given moment, but he hasn't. If anything, like he just proved in Derek's loft, he needs us. She could protect him from the Oni, and she would. She would protect Stiles with her life."

Allison flinched at her choice of words. Her father, however, quirked an eyebrow. "She might as well have."

For a moment, Allison was quiet. She heard the Sheriff get to his feet, heard his weary sigh. "Our footprints are all over this place."

"We can move her," her father suggested, but Allison cut him off with a shake of her head.

"They'll know she was moved," the Sheriff supplied, quiet.

"Her neck is broken," her father reminded them both. As though Allison would ever forget. "With that and her other injuries... If we place her in the right spot, far away from here, from any evidence, it could look like she fell. We could say we went searching for her and found her like that, or let someone else find her."

"We can't just leave her here," Allison heard Scott say from across the clearing. It was quiet, flat, but they all heard it. Heard the grief in his voice.

"Then what do you suggest we do with her, Scott?" her father bit back.

Scott rose from his seat at the old campfire, stalked over to them, Kira quick at his side. "We take her home."

Allison shot her father a glare when he opened his mouth, stopped him from saying whatever rude remark was on the tip of his tongue. "Scott," she said instead, gentler than he would have been. "We can't take her home."

"She needs to be at home," he argued, but Allison shook her head slowly.

"If we take her home, we're still going to have to explain what happened," she pointed out to him. "And then, on top of that, we'll have to explain how she got there, why we moved her, why we didn't immediately call the police."

"Which is why we should call the police," her father butted in, much to her annoyance.

"Dad," she said, her voice sharp. "You're not helping." She turned back to Scott, ignoring her father's childish huff. "Scott."

"She needs to be with her family," he tried again. Allison smiled.

"Scott, they really don't need to see her like this." Scott shook his head at her, adamant.

"After everything they went through with her mom, they need it," he said, and he had her there. "They need to know." Allison turned to her dad, saw him weakening as he watched her. "They need to see her again. And then I'll bring her back. I'll say I found her, at the bottom of the cliff or something."

Allison's father sighed. "Scott."

"What if it was Allison?" the Sheriff questioned him, his voice soft. The girl in question looked back at him. "Wouldn't you want a moment, in peace, before all the cops and the press and the questions, to say goodbye to your kid?" The Sheriff let him dwell on it for a moment. "I know I would."

Finally, barely, Allison saw her father crack. "Alright," he agreed, letting out a deep breath. "We'll take her home."

Before anyone else could reach for her, Scott was by Amber's side. As he moved to take her into his arms, he paused, leant back.

"What is it?" the Sheriff asked him, a hand on his shoulder as he crouched down beside him. Scott didn't turn away from her.

"Should I close her eyes?" he asked him, his voice small, cracked. "I know it's not... But they'll never get to see her eyes again if I close them."

As the Sheriff ran his hand across Scott's back, comforting, Allison turned away. "They don't need to, Scott."

Allison didn't hear much else. Her ears began to ring, her chest began to ache. As she took a deep, shaky breath, her father pulled her in, held her tight. She had thought all of her training had prepared her for moments like this. That she would be able to hold it together. And she had, for a while. For long enough.

Neither of the Wilson men had needed to be told what had happened. The moment they had opened the door to the Sheriff's knock, had seen that look on his face... The Sheriff knew they had received that look before. That they knew what it meant. And while it broke the man's heart, he was at least grateful that he didn't have to say the words out loud.

"What happened?" Nick asked him, sat on the coffee table, his daughter laid out on the couch in front of him. He wasn't crying. Hadn't cried at all, actually. Had simply watched as Scott had brought her in, moved stiffly to sit beside her.

The Sheriff cleared his throat. "We're not certain," he told him, his words careful. "But we have a theory."

Nick nodded. "Stiles."

At the name, then Sheriff couldn't help but flinch. His son hadn't done this, he knew that. But something inside of him might have. He wasn't sure Nick would care much for the distinction.

Instead of confirming what Nick already knew, the Sheriff took on the other problem. "We're going to have to take her back out there. We'll need to call it in."

Nick shook his head. "It's gonna be cold out."

"I know," the Sheriff said, nodding slowly. "But we'll need to report this, and we can't do that if she's here."

"I can't leave her out there," Nick started, his breath hitching.

"You won't have to," the Sheriff promised him, leaning forward in his seat. "Scott's going to take her, and he'll call it in, and he'll stay with her the whole time." He watched as Nick reached out a hand, brushed back the hair from Amber's face. She would be cold by now, the Sheriff knew, yet the man held his hand against her face, brushed a thumb over her cheek. For a moment, he stayed exactly like that. It could almost like she was sleeping. The Sheriff imagined that was a comfort. Eventually, though, Nick pulled his hand back, lacing it with his other, and nodded.

The Sheriff rose, but the other man's voice gave him pause. "Thank you, Noah," he said, finally looking up from his daughter's face. "For bringing her home."

Unsure of what to say, what he could say, the Sheriff simply smiled, and made his way outside. He could give them a little more time.

When Josh had first seen his sister, lying in Scott's arms, one of her own arms hanging limp, he hadn't been sure what to do. Part of him had wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Another part wanted to scream, but even as he'd opened his mouth, the sound had refused to come out. Instead, he had retreated. He had watched them bring her in, lay her gently on the couch. He had watched his father struggle to breath for a solid thirty seconds before he had turned and bolted out of the door they had just come through.

He was still sat on the porch steps, staring down the drive, when the Sheriff joined him a few minutes later, dropping down to the same step.

"I know it's hard," he said to him, the Sheriff's voice quiet and soft. Josh figured he'd probably had to do this a lot. "And sitting in there with her isn't going to make it any easier. But if you want to say goodbye, properly, now's your chance to do it."

Josh, adamant, shook his head. "I don't want to see her."

The Sheriff sighed. "You might regret that further down the line."

"Then I'll deal with that when I get there," he said, his voice coarse. "I don't want to remember her like that."

The Sheriff nodded. He could understand that. "Okay. That's okay. And I know that you're the kid here, that it's not your responsibility to look after your dad. But you're all each other has, and, coming from another father... I think he could really use family right now."

Josh let the Sheriff get to his feet, let him walk away. He stayed where he was, though, for the longest time. Long enough for the sun to finish setting. Long enough that he began to feel his fingers going numb with the cold. Eventually, he realised the Sheriff was right. He might not want to see his sister like that, but his dad needed to. And he shouldn't have to do that alone.

With a sniff, Josh got to his feet, turned, headed back inside. He hadn't even managed to close the door behind him before he heard his father's sobs.

"I can't believe you did that."

"He had a right to know, Allison," her father said, hushed, shaking his head as they stood on the back porch of the Wilson home.

She scoffed. "You know Jackson," she murmured. "You know what he's like."

"His best friend just died."

"Exactly," Allison bit out, angry at him now. He knew exactly what he had done. "His best friend just died. We can all take a guess as to who did it." Her father shrugged. "If Jackson finds Stiles before we do, he'll kill him."

Her father was quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's for the best." Allison, not even shocked at his words, shook her head.

"And what happens if Stiles kills Jackson first, huh?" she asked him. "What if Jackson doesn't think before he goes in there, and ends up dead too? What if Stiles kills two teenagers in one day because you thought it was okay to make that call?"

Before he could respond, or try to defend his decision, or piss Allison off more, the door behind them opened wide. The Sheriff, door knob still in his hand, watched them carefully for a second, his eyebrows high. Allison had a feeling they may not have been as quiet as they thought they were.

"Sheriff," her father finally said, nodding his head. "They're ready?"

The Sheriff shook his head. "No," he answered honestly. "But I don't think they'll ever be." He stepped back to allow the pair back inside, closing the door behind them.

Allison's father stepped forward, folding his arms over his chest. "Okay. Once this is done, once Scott has called the cops, the Sheriff here is going to make sure that he's the one to come here and 'break the news'. That way, you won't have to fake a reaction to sell it." Amber's dad nodded. Her brother didn't move. "They'll be questions. So if anyone asks, the last time you saw her was this morning. You got up, she went out before breakfast for a run, and that's the last time you saw her."

"It's been over twelve hours since then," Kira piped up from the kitchen bar, her voice uncertain after the authority of an Argent. "Won't they ask why they didn't report her missing?"

"Probably," Allison's father responded. "If they do, tell them she did this sort of thing a lot. She liked to be alone out there, in the woods, but she's smart and she's safe, and she's always come home fine, so you didn't think to call it in."

"We called her this morning," Josh said then, finally seeming to wake up. "I called her loads. That'll be on her phone."

The older Argent nodded. "We can fix that. Phones go missing in the woods all the time." He nodded, locked eyes with what was left of the Wilsons. "Just be sure to wipe the calls from your phones too." They nodded. Allison wasn't sure how they were holding up so well. She knew he needed to be, needed to make and follow through on the plan here, but her father was being so... Cold was the wrong word. She knew it wasn't that he didn't care. But the way he spoke to them, walked them through every single step of the cover up of the death of their daughter, their sister... She didn't know if she'd be able to do the same, if she were in their position. At least with her mother, she hadn't needed a cover story. Everyone kept her in the dark, instead. "We need to do this now," he said, turning to the Sheriff, to Scott. "If we wait much longer, it's going to look odd for Scott to be out there so late."

Allison watched as the younger of the Wilson's rose from his seat, marched straight passed her and through the back door. She thought about following him. But she wasn't sure she would do any good. He would probably prefer to be left alone.

Nick raised his daughter's hand to his lips, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the cold skin there. He watched as Scott carefully cradled her in his arms, lifted her off the couch, and began walking towards the door, the others following closely behind. He continued watching them from the door as they made their way down the porch steps, across the yard. Stayed there until they had disappeared into the trees. Stayed there a long time after that, too.

Allison lead the way, her flashlight spanning the floor ahead of her. Just behind her, her father cleared his throat. She turned, watched him point his own flashlight to the side, through a thick layer of trees, cut short by a rock wall just behind. Looking high above them, at the mountain there, he hummed. The wall was jagged, with rock jutting out sharply everywhere you looked.

"This should work," he said simply, turning back to Scott, Amber still lying in his arms. "It would be better if-"

"We're not throwing her," Scott cut in, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Shaking his head, Allison's dad just sighed. He was trying to help, she knew.

"In which case," he continued, stepping aside to make room for Scott. "This will do."

Scott hesitated. His hands, one on Amber's waist, the other wrapped around her knee, tightened around her. Like he couldn't let her go.

Allison caught her breath, stepped up to him, laying her own hand atop of one of Scott's. His eyes met hers, and she could see the sheer pain in his eyes. The anger. The conflict.

"I can't leave her here," he whispered, the tears in his voice breaking through to his voice.

Allison shook her head. "You don't have to. We'll stay with her. We won't leave her for a second, okay?"

"Allison-"

She cut her dad off with just a look. After a second, he nodded.

Turning back to Scott, she squeezed his hand. Try as she might to hold it together, she felt her lip tremble.

"You have to put her down, Scott," she told him, gentle, but firm. "We don't have to leave her, but you have to put her down. It's the only way."

She felt his hands tighten again under own. Heard his breath hitch in his chest. Finally, though, finally, he nodded.

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

As the strange, unexpected voices rang out around them, both Allison's dad and the Sheriff span around, their weapons drawn, flashlights up, searching for the culprits. When the light landed on two much more familiar faces, though, Allison jumped forward.

"Okay, both of you," Allison said gently, her hands up as she backed up towards the new pair. "Put your guns down. They're friends of Amber's." Slowly, the two men did as she asked, one a lot more willingly than the other. When she figured they were calmer, less trigger happy, she turned, narrowed her eyes at Jeremy and Bonnie, both blinded by the flashlights behind her. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing," Jeremy said, holding up a hand to shield his eyes. "But it seems pretty obvious that you were about to dump a body."

Allison looked away for a second, only managed to meet their eyes again when she felt the familiar weight of a hand on her shoulder.

"Sometimes, in the lives we live, we have to make some tough choices," her father said, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

Jeremy scoffed. "Yeah, you can say that again," he said quietly, mostly to himself.

Bonnie, quiet up until now, stepped closer to the group. "Is that her?" she asked no one in particular, her eyes caught on the body in Scott's arms.

"Yeah," Allison said, her voice barely above a whisper. Bonnie nodded, turning back to the young Argent.

"I need you to hold off on your plans," she told them, her gaze wavering when Allison's dad laughed. Actually laughed.

"You can't be serious?"

"I am." Bonnie squared her shoulders, picked up her head. "I need to check something, before you call the police."

"We don't have time for you to check something." Allison shot her dad a pleading look over her shoulder. She didn't have to tell him to give the girl a chance to talk. He huffed, but otherwise remained quiet.

"Listen," the girl started again, holding her hands out, asking for their patience. "We were with Amber the other day, and something happened, at this old abandoned church by that asylum."

Everyone stayed quiet for a long moment.

"Eichen House?" the Sheriff finally asked, to which Bonnie nodded.

"That's the one," Jeremy said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "A lot of witches have died on those grounds, at that asylum, and usually, lots of dead witches equals lots of magic."

"I'm pretty sure they cast a spell," Bonnie continued. "And if I'm right, I think it's something similar to one I cast myself last year."

"And that would be..."

Bonnie huffed. "We were up against the most evil being any of us had ever encountered. He's a thousand years old, and was almost impossible to kill. But there's a house, in Mystic Falls, that has been the site of countless witch deaths. So I went there, to speak to them, to ask them for help. And they granted me their power."

Allison frowned. "Are you saying you think the witches here did the same thing with Amber?'

Bonnie nodded.

"Wait, hold on a second," the Sheriff asked beside Scott. "If Amber had that much power, surely she would have been able to defend herself?"

"That's the thing," Bonnie explained, wrapping her arms around herself. "Even with all of that power, I still couldn't defeat Klaus until he was vulnerable. And he knew that." Bonnie paused for a moment. Cocked her head. "So he killed me before I had the chance."

Allison wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Her father, apparently, did.

"Clearly," he quipped, eyeing the girl with a grin. He was beginning to lose impatience.

"That was the spell I cast," Bonnie explained. "I knew he wasn't going to let me live, not when I had the ability to kill him. All I needed was the opportunity, and to get something he wanted, he needed to make himself vulnerable. He would be giving me all the opportunity I needed."

"So you cast a spell to protect yourself?" Allison asked her. Bonnie nodded. "From Klaus?"

Bonnie shook her head. "From death."

The second they stepped into the clearing, Bonnie could hear the witches whispering. It flowed through her body, urged her forward, even as the others hesitated behind her. She turned back, quirked an eyebrow.

One of the older men, the angrier one, narrowed his eyes at her, and the perfect circle of dead flora that surrounded the old church. "Is it safe?" he asked.

Bonnie smiled, nodded. "So long as you're not a threat to them, you're safe."

Allison, the huntress, was the first to step into the circle. As she glanced over her shoulder, nodded, Scott followed her, Amber lying limp in his grasp. They both looked up at the church ahead of them, both of them clearly sensing the aura that encased the place. Bonnie could see the fear on their faces. They made no attempt to hide it. But they continued on anyway. Because they needed to. For Amber.

Oh, how Bonnie prayed that she was right.

"So, you died?" Allison asked, her voice quieting as the door ahead of them swung open quietly, before any of them had reached it. Bonnie smiled.

"I did, technically," Bonnie said, nodding as they entered the church. "But I knew it was coming, I knew Klaus would kill me, so it gave me time to prepare. If the witches here knew this demon would kill Amber, or was a threat to her... Witches protect their own."

"How long did it take you to..." Scott trailed off, cleared his throat. "To come back?"

Bonnie shrugged, not sure exactly. "A couple of hours, maybe?"

"A little less than," Jeremy corrected, closing the door once they were all inside.

Scott was quiet for a second. "Amber's been gone a lot longer than that."

Bonnie nodded, solemn. "I know," she told him, leading them over to where an altar may have stood. It was where they had sat just a few days previously, where Bonnie was sure the witches had done something. Hopefully, it was what she thought it was. Hopefully, the message she had received was right, "But after I died, Jeremy brought me straight back to where I had spoken to the witches, where their power, the power I was borrowing, was the strongest. That's when I woke up."

"So, if this is where you guys communicated with the witches..." Allison began, nodding her head slowly as she caught on.

"Then this will be where she'll wake up," Bonnie finished for her. She sighed. "If she wakes up."

"Because you don't know for certain," Allison's dad reminded everyone. "This is just a guess."

"An educated guess," Jeremy said sharply, glowering at the man, even through the shadows. Bonnie cast a glance his way. He knew what she had heard.

"But yes," Bonnie said, trying to relieve some of the tension. "It is still a guess. There's no real way of knowing until..." Bonnie shrugged, letting the others fill in what she couldn't say. One way or the other, they were about to find out.

"Well, I suppose this is why we haven't called Nick yet," the Sheriff said, hands on his hips. "No need to get their hopes up if this doesn't go the way we want it to."

As Bonnie struck a match, watching the bright flame flicker, Jeremy lead Scott over to the middle of the room. Another perfect circle, it was the only place in the building that wasn't covered in debris. Gently, he laid her down, the Sheriff stripping off his jacket and folding it, tucking it underneath her head. Jeremy joined her, took the matches from her hand to light some candles of his own.

"This was a lot easier when I had magic," Bonnie said quietly after a few moments of silence. She heard Jeremy breath out a quick laugh, a little light in the darkness that surrounded them.

"What do we do now?" Allison asked them, her arms folded tight around her as she lowered herself to the floor beside Scott, the latter not moving his eyes from the girl in the circle, surrounded by candles.

Bonnie smiled, nervous. "Now, we wait."

I don't remember much of my time on the Other Side, or wherever I was. There was no bright light, no guide to help me find my way. Honestly, I always thought that when I died, my mom would be there. I thought she'd take my hand, walk with me, help me come to terms with what had happened. But I was completely alone. It was cold, and dark, and numbing, and I was alone.

And then, like someone had flicked a switch, everything came back to me, all at once. I was cold, but I could feel it. I could feel hairs on my skin rising, feel a draft, just barely, tickling my bare arms. I could feel the ground under me, cold and hard and glorious. When I managed to drag my eyes open, finally, I could see the flickering of candles, the light they emitting glowing around me. Even the shadows beyond the candles were a comfort. They were not so empty. And even though it was quiet around her, though no one spoke, no one moved, the silence here was not deafening.

I blinked a few times, a shadow blocking out the light around me. I heard someone call my name. It was distant, at first. As though I were underwater, and the sound was struggling to reach my ears. I turned my head, looked around for the source. And even though the only light stood behind her, casting a halo around her hair, shadows to fall over her face, I knew her. As her voice became clearer, breaking through to my ears, she reached a hand up to brush the hair back from my face. It was gentle, barely more than a soft breeze. And then she was gone.

The walk back to my home was a long one. I had walked, hell, I had run a lot further plenty of times, and been fine. Maybe it was dying. Maybe it was coming back. Maybe it was how my body still ached, how each step caused more pain than the last. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above. Either way, I don't think I'd ever been so tired by the time we got home.

Scott and Allison had walked on either side of me the entire way there, in case I fell, or needed a helping hand. I did, once or twice, when I was too exhausted to lift my foot high enough over a tree root, or when my knees gave way under me, and they were both there to catch me. As we reached the house, as the Sheriff took the porch steps two at a time and pounded on the front door, my stomach churned. They had filled me in on all that had happened; Josh realising I wasn't home, Scott and Kira finding my body, the plan to cover up my suspicious death. It was a lot to take in. But the thought of my dad and my brother having to spend the rest of their lives lying, knowing I was murdered and not being able to do anything... That was so much worse.

When my Daddy opened the door, his face was blank, save for the red eyes. He didn't greet the Sheriff, didn't say a word, only managed to hold his gaze for a minute. He had been expecting this call. Waiting for the Sheriff to come back, to say the police had been called, that I had been 'found'. Then, as he tried to find anywhere to look but the Sheriff, that's when he saw me.

At first, I don't think it fully registered. He simply stared for a moment or two, watching me. There was no surprise in his eyes, no shock. It was like he didn't even see me. Or didn't believe what he was seeing. It wasn't until I climbed the steps and stood beside the Sheriff, who put a gentle hand on my shoulder, that I think it finally set in.

I took a few more steps, closed the space between us, and wrapped my arms around him. It took him a few seconds to respond, but when he did, he squeezed until I could barely breathe. It felt good.

I don't think I've ever heard my Daddy cry like that.

"I think it's best if, for now, we keep this to ourselves."

At Mr Argent's suggestion, I lifted my head from Dad's shoulder, turned to the others.

"What do you mean?" Allison asked him, brow low. "We don't tell anyone she's okay?"

Mr Argent nodded. "Stiles-"

"It's not Stiles," Scott cut in, before the man could continue.

He tensed his jaw, but continued. "The thing inside Stiles took Amber out of the picture for a reason. It thinks it has the upper hand now. If we let it continue thinking that, we're the ones with the advantage."

I winced, not sure what sort of advantage I actually was. I had barely managed to make it to the couch without collapsing. Not to mention, I had already tried to fight the thing, and failed - and that had been at full strength. What good would I be in a fight now, while I was struggling to keep my eyes open?

I didn't seem to be the only one thinking this, though, if Josh's worried gaze from the corner was any indication.

"I don't think Amber's exactly an advantage right now," he thought aloud.

Bonnie smiled at me from her place at the kitchen bar, Jeremy beside her as always. "Your strength will come back. It took a while for me, and you were out longer than I was, but it will come back."

"And hopefully better than before," Mr Argent added in, hands on his hips. "We're gonna need all the help we can get if we're going to come out the other side intact."

"What can she do in the meantime?" the Sheriff asked, looking over to Bonnie. He had been quiet during the reunion at the front door, and ever since - actually, he'd been pretty quiet since I woke up. The kind of quiet that makes you think whatever is going on in his mind is awfully loud. I suppose I couldn't really expect anything less, though - he was still getting used to all of this, just like Daddy, and just as they were starting to get a grip on this new world around them... The Sheriff nearly had to cover up the murder of a teenage girl to protect his possessed son, but, luckily, she was brought back by a horde of long-dead witches.

None of us really could have seen that coming.

"Rest," Bonnie answered, shrugging a shoulder. "There's not really much else you can do. You died. Your body needs time to heal from that. Just take it easy for a couple of days."

Mr Argent laughed. "We don't have a couple of dies."

"We also don't have much choice," Allison said pointedly, her eyes hardening in her daddy's direction. "Strong magic takes it's toll on her body on a good day - if she tries any now, it might kill her. Again. And she might not come back next time."

The room fell quiet for a long moment, and if it was possible, I'd say Daddy held me tighter.

"So, she rests," Scott said, nodding. "We don't even know where Stiles is right now, or what we're gonna do when we find him, so that will keep us busy in the meantime."

I nodded back at Scott, a thought springing to mind. "Does Jackson know?"

"I told him a few hours ago," Mr Argent said. "Maybe it's best to let him continue thinking you're dead."

Allison scoffed. "It wouldn't be best for Stiles if Jackson finds him."

"You should tell him," I cut it, before the argument I was sure was coming between them could break out. My voice was croaky, and it hurt to speak, but someone needed to break them up. "I was a mess when I thought Jackson had died; I imagine I know what he's feeling right now, and it sucks."

Mr Argent didn't seem to agree with my input, but Scott stood up before he could argue. "I'll tell him. He's out looking for Stiles now, so I'll track him down," he said, and he tipped his head towards me on his way to the door. "Get some sleep. And call me if you need anything." I nodded, wanting to avoid the pain that would come with another verbal response.

"We should join the search too," Allison said, turning to her dad with a raised eyebrow. He nodded, though he didn't seem all the happy about it. Her dad followed Scott to the door, but Allison paused to drop to the couch beside me. Daddy loosened his grip on me enough to allow Allison to wrap me in her own arms for a minute. "I'll call you if we find anything." I nodded against her shoulder, and her arms tightened around me for a second before she let go, her eyes a little wetter than before.

The Sheriff hesitated as Allison made her way out, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He nodded towards Bonnie and Jeremy in the kitchen. "Are you guys staying here?"

"Yes, sir," Jeremy said, nodding once.

"And you know what you're doing with..." The Sheriff gestured widely. "All of this?"

Jeremy smiled, nodded again. "We've dealt with our fair share."

The Sheriff seemed pleased with that answer. Or, at least as pleased as he could be with any response in this situation. "In that case," The Sheriff said, turning back to us. "I have a hearing to prepare for. But you're not to leave this house unless you're with someone." I couldn't help but smile. "And I don't mean just anyone. Sorry, Nick, but you and Josh are about as helpful as I am in all of this." Daddy hummed in agreement. I think I saw Josh smile - at least a little. "I mean someone like Scott, or Jackson, or either of the Argents. Preferably all of them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I said, smiling at the man.

"And if anything happens, you call me." He looked between Jeremy, Bonnie and Daddy, eyebrows raised in a very familiar 'do as I say and don't question me' manner. Lord, I missed Stiles. "And I mean anything. If you see or hear something strange coming from the woods, you call me. If the wind picks up in an ominous manner, you call me. If Amber sneezes, you call me."

"Sheriff," Daddy cut in with a smile, before he could continue his increasingly specific list. "We'll call you."

For a second, the Sheriff paused, unsure if he was satisfied, or if he needed to give more examples. Eventually, though, he nodded, eyeing me for another moment before heading out.

Jeremy also got to his feet, wandering over to the back of the sofa slowly. "I think Bonnie and I are gonna call it a night," he said quietly, nodding his head towards the guest room beyond the kitchen. "It's been a hell of a day."

I frowned, pursing my lips. "Oh, really?" I asked. "How come?" Jeremy smiled, a small laugh escaping from his mouth as he shook his head.

He turned back to Bonnie, who followed him out with her own smile in my direction. "Get some sleep," he called over his shoulder, just before disappearing from my view.

I smiled, turned back in my seat on the couch to curl into Daddy's side again. Once I was comfortable, I lifted my head to raise an eyebrow at Josh, still sat in the armchair in the corner. He had barely moved since I got here.

"Are you getting in on this, or are you gonna sulk in the corner all night?" I asked him, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat. I know I was fine now, but I was dead. For a while. That's gotta have some lasting damage, especially when he and Daddy were already having to deal with everything that happened with mom, and come to terms with every insane thing that has happened in the last year. And Josh was 15. At this point, if he made it out of high school alive and sane, I'd be surprised.

Eventually, though, he got up from his seat and settled in on my other side, so I was sandwiched between the two of them. Their hugs were a little tight, and everything hurt, but I wouldn't have changed that moment for the world.

A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter feels like it kind of ends in a weird place, rather than setting up the next chapter, or feels kind of rushed. Honestly, I did kinda rush it when I eventually started writing it again, just to get it out before another 3 years passed. Lols. Also, sorry if my writing style or the 'voice' of the story changed mid-chapter here. I don't think it does, but I had this started ages ago, and only just finished it, with a MASSIVE hiatus in the middle, so who knows.

Again, a million and one apologies for how goddamn long it took me to sort my shit out and get back on track here. Hoping I won't have a slump like this again, but because I stopped writing for SO LONG, I'm super behind on pre-written chapters and even my plans for those chapters, so I don't know when the next one will be up. Please don't hate meeeeee.

Thank you for reading, my loves, and for sticking with me. I truly appreciate it, and hope I can do better by you in the future.

Stay fetch.