Appetite for Destruction

Tall, Dark, And Deadly

I stared at the rusty streaks of dirt and blood trailing down the shower drain, my skin turning red under the water too hot to be comfortable. The searing heat of the water wasn't making me feel any better, but I did feel a little less like I was going to crawl out of my own skin.

I shut off the water before I could boil myself alive, got dressed and swiped my hand through the steam on the mirror, glass wet and ice cold under my palm. Steam was clogging up my lungs and I wiped at my eyes, right hand braced on the counter like I was going to topple over. I could hear the others talking in low voices in the main room, knew I could hear what they were saying if I focused my hearing, but I didn't want to.

I wasn't ready to hear the truth.

There should have been a while night's worth of memories, but instead there was nothing. Huge chunks were missing, the whole thing like a horrible dream that I couldn't remember come morning, but I knew. Knew the ramifications of what running wild on the full moon were.

I scrubbed my face with both hands. Please no, please, not this again, don't make me go through this again -

I cut off that train of thought before it could turn into the mad gibbering whirling around the back of my mind, forcing myself to take several deep breaths before I looked in the mirror. I watched my eyes glow and wondered if, had they been gold, would they shine blue after tonight.

I took a deep breath and willed the blue away, leaving my eyes grey. I took one more deep breath and headed to the door.

It was time to face the music.

Scott, Stiles, and Isaac were lingering in a corner of the loft while Derek knelt next to the sofa where Boyd lay, wiping away the blood from the healed wound on his head, the one I was sure I'd caused. None of them looked up when I entered and I stood marooned in the middle of the room.

"Did I..." My voice cracked and I cleared my throat before trying again. "Did we kill anyone?"

Derek's shoulders tensed and Scott shared a look with Stiles, and my stomach dropped. I remembered the first time I'd looked at those cold blue eyes in the mirror, knew what they meant and knew I deserved to carry the reminder of what I'd done for the rest of my life.

"No." Stiles said, and my gaze snapped to him, hope flaring in my chest.

"Are you sure?" Scott asked slowly, looking between us as Derek rose to his feet. "When you called you said her throat had been ripped out -"

"Your mom let me into the morgue," Stiles interrupted, voice serious and it was strange hearing that tone from him. "There were two deaths and both of them had the same wounds; they had their heads bashed in, their throats slit, and were garrotted. Threefold death." He looked at me now, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth even though he looked anything but amused right now. "I doubt you two would go to that extreme when you could, you know, go all wolfy on them."

Derek met my gaze and nodded, reassuring, and relief washed over me. I hadn't - we hadn't - hurt anyone. Boyd's eyes would remain gold and, even though it was too late for me, I didn't have another coffin on my conscience.

"You said two murders?" Isaac asked curiously, and that seemed to snap Stiles out of whatever trance he'd put himself into and he blinked at Isaac. "You said there were two victims, we know about the guy at the pool so who was the other?"

Stiles swallowed. "Heather." He said, voice tight. I had no idea who that was but judging by the way Scott reached over and clasped his hand on Stiles' shoulder they must have known her.

"You guys should go home," Derek told them, dropping the towel he'd been using to clean the blood from Boyd's head onto the coffee table. "You have school tomorrow."