OCTOBER 30TH—THE NIGHT before Halloween, aka mischief night. The night when every teenager in Beacon Hills was out pulling pranks and causing a little mayhem.
Despite the task at hand, Stiles couldn't keep his hands off of Georgia. Both of them sat on her waist, right above the top of her skirt, while his lips kissed up and down her neck. He was completely pressed up against her backside where they stood in Coach's office.
Georgia was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention. She was wrapping up a box to leave behind on Finstock's desk, filled with screws that belonged to pretty much everything in his office.
But, with Stiles' breath hitting her ear and his hands wandering more and more, she was beginning to forget how to function, let alone make this thing look good.
"Georgia," he whispered in her ear, it sounding both erotic and haunting at the same time. One hand slipped under the bottom of her shirt, grasping a bit tighter at her ribs. The tips of his fingers on the other hand tucked under her skirt, slowly sinking down farther, "Georgia," he uttered again, pushing against her a little farther.
As badly as she wanted to give in, Georgia couldn't count how many other people were wandering campus pulling pranks, and she was not about to be caught naked.
She caught his wrist, pulling it out of her skirt and twisting until his back was against the desk and she stood in front of him. Still, she held his hand up between them like it was a weapon.
"I didn't realize fucking you was going to turn you into a horndog 24/7," she joked, raising her brows pointedly. However, as her eyes locked with his, something felt off. There was a certain darkness to his irises, a glint to his expression. She carefully grasped his chin, angling his face a different way, "Are you okay?"
And then he blinked, any trace of weirdness gone. He flashed a sheepish smile, pecking her lips, "Sorry."
Georgia couldn't help but to smile back, snickering, "Oh, I'm sure you are," she released him, stepping back and approaching the locker room. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, "Let's call Scott and finish up."
Stiles grinned, following her. As he began rummaging through the locker, he scrolled through his cell phone. It didn't take him long to call Scott.
"Get your ass down here now. We have a job to do," he ordered, making Georgia laugh lightly.
"Dude, I'm already in bed. And aren't we getting a little old for this?" Scott's voice sounded from the other end.
"We do this for Coach," Stiles insisted.
"I thought we did this to Coach." It was true, he was more a victim than a gift recipient.
"Whatever, okay?" Stiles did a dramatic eye roll to Georgia, "You know he needs this. He lives for this stuff. He loves it."
Georgia leaned forward to speak into the phone, "I'm pretty sure it's the only thing keeping him from drinking away his sorrows."
Scott was less than amused, "But it's the middle of the night."
At first Georgia thought nothing of his words, but then her brows furrowed. With her advanced hearing, she caught the echo of his words. Slowly, she grinned.
"Which means it's after midnight and officially Mischief Night/Day, and, by perfectly awesome coincidence, it's also happens to be Coach's birthday," Stiles continued ranting, "So if you are not down here in five seconds, I will destroy you. Okay? I will have Georgia destroy you," he corrected after a moment of thought, "And I mean five, four, three, two—"
"One."
The cheeky bastard appeared right behind Stiles, effectively scaring the ever-loving shit out of him. Georgia cackled as she watched him flail about against his locker.
Stiles turned to glare at his smiling best friend, "I hate you."
* * * * *
After a long night of pranks and mischief, Stiles drove Georgia to school the next morning. She was exhausted where she sat slumped in the passenger seat, unable to keep her eyes open.
Stiles smiled as he parked, glancing over her. She was wearing an orange long-sleeved shirt that showed the bottom portion of her stomach, and a pair of jeans with a studded belt. Little ghost earrings hung from her ears.
"Stop staring, pervert."
Stiles chuckled at her remark, going to poke her stomach and make her squirm, "C'mon, we're here."
Georgia did a dramatic groan of annoyance as she sat up and grabbed her bag. She made a fake mad face at Stiles before they both got out and met around front. Their hands laced together on instinct.
They spotted Scott standing by his bike, the twins in front of him.
"You're back in school?" Scott asked, looking between them.
"No, just to talk," Ethan replied.
"Oh. That's kind of a change of pace for you guys," Stiles had to squint against the sun as they saddled up beside Scott, "Usually, you're just hurting, maiming, and killing."
"You need a pack. We need an Alpha," Aiden put it simply, making Scott raise his brows. Georgia hadn't told the others that they asked her too.
"Yeah," Stiles dragged out, "Absolutely not. That's hilarious though," he nodded.
Aiden wasn't phased, "You came to us for help. We helped."
Georgia pursed her lips, not saying anything. Stiles continued to do all the replying, "You beat Georgia's face into a bloody pulp, to the point where she almost had to kill you. That's not helping. In my opinion, that's actually counter-productive," he waved his free hand about.
"Why would I say yes?" Scott challenged, willing to hear them out at the least.
"We'd add strength. We'd make you more powerful. There's no reason to say no," Aiden said from beside a slightly smirking Ethan. Stiles and Georgia did extremely dramatic eye rolls in sync, scoffing a little.
Isaac appeared beside them in a striped cardigan, "I can think of one. Like the two of you holding Derek's claws while Kali impaled Boyd," he crossed his arms, glancing from Scott and Georgia to them, "In fact, I don't know why we're not impaling them right now."
Aiden did a deep growl, his teeth sharpening, "You want to try?"
"I'd happily finish," Georgia went to lunge at the same time as Isaac. Scott caught Isaac's forearm while Stiles' arm curled around Georgia's waist.
Scott turned back to the twins once they'd calmed, "Sorry, but they don't trust you. And neither do I."
With that, the four of them stalked past, not before Isaac sent them an arrogant look. Once inside, the group temporarily split to go to their lockers. Isaac followed Georgia to hers.
"Why aren't we killing them again?" he asked, leaning against the metal beside her. Isaac wasn't feeling betrayed, but he was confused by Georgia's decision.
She sighed, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, "If it came to a fight, they'd be dead in seconds," she slammed her locker shut, "Like if he'd actually tried to start shit there, I promise he wouldn't have touched you."
Isaac walked beside her down the hall, hands in pockets, "Didn't it already come to a fight? When they were supposedly helping you."
"That was different," Georgia tried to explain, but didn't fully understand herself, "With Deucalion, Oliver, and Kali out of the picture, I'm willing to give them a chance. But I promise, the second they slip up, they're done."
Isaac mulled over her words for a moment before nodding, "Good enough for me."
They saw Scott and Stiles ahead, only catching the tail end of their conversation.
"You're an Alpha. You're the apex predator. Everyone wants you. You're like the hot girl that every guy wants," Stiles was hyping his counterpart. Georgia rolled her eyes, already knowing exactly what was going on. Kira.
"The hot girl?" Scott echoed in confusion.
"You are the hottest girl," Stiles assured again, giving a dorky smile as he pat his shoulder. He then turned, wiggling his brows at Georgia. He tossed an arm around her shoulder, leading them off to Coach's class.
Georgia sat in front of Stiles, Scott sitting beside him. They'd barely been sitting there before a loud shout came from Coach's adjacent office.
"Son of a bitch!"
Georgia slowly glanced back at her boys, all three of them with slight grins.
Coach stormed in, slamming the door, "Mischief Night, Devil's Night. I don't care what you call it. You little punks are evil," multiple students began giggling, Stiles looking exceptionally pleased with his handy work, "You think it's funny every Halloween my house gets egged? A man's house is supposed to be his castle."
Coach paved back and forth before slamming his hands against Scott's desk. His dramatic reaction made Georgia hold her hand back, Stiles' clapping against it in a low five.
"Mine's a frickin' omelet," he spotted the second wrapped box on this desk, picking it up and holding it out, "Oh, this? We're gonna do this again?" he dropped it to the floor, "I don't think so," he stomped it, making Georgia and Stiles smile through their slight flinches.
At the strange cracking, clearly not screws this time, Coach squatted down. He lifted up a broken piece of a mug with his face on it, labeled #1 Coach. He sighed as he fumbled for the card, reading it.
"Happy Birthday. Love. . . Greenberg."
More giggles went around the room at part two of Coach's prank.
* * * * *
Willow sighed as she gathered all of her hair up onto the top of her head. Her stomach twisted back and forth uncomfortably as she sat in her car. She had the feeling of deja vu. Purposely choosing a day Georgia wouldn't be home, busy with Mischief Night, to go where she was.
The paper in her hand was heavy with guilt.
• visit mom's grave
• visit nate's grave
• go to trailer
• find info on sparks family (wealthy? possible lawyers in area?)
• apartment 304, redding lane
• go to library
• meet ga
All but the last item was crossed out, completed. Willow felt so stupid, like she was getting her hopes up for nothing. She wasn't a dumb person, so why did she feel like one?
Done with the second guessing, Willow pulled her keys from the ignition and got out of her car, slamming the door. She hitched her bag higher, and made sure her gun was tucked away in the back of her jeans.
Her combat boots dug into the asphalt as she strode up to the building. The whole way, Willow was nervously checking behind her back. She knew she shouldn't really be there, but she had to.
She had to know if sociopaths tell the truth in their final moments.
Willow was buzzed in before she gave the name of who she was visiting. The friendly receptionist gave her a room number, and Willow was off.
The room stunk. Not just in the way that old people do, but in the way of death. Willow knocked twice before entering, eyes bouncing from wall to wall. Several tissues were strewn about, stained with a horrific black goop. They led to a wheelchair facing straight at her.
Gerard Argent looked much more frail now than the stories that Willow heard. The Argents and Balmers were once the same group o hunters, until they split to go solo and cover more ground. Gerard stared at her like he knew exactly who she was, his pale face scrunched a little.
"I'm Willow Balmer," she introduced, swallowing thickly.
"I know who you are," Gerard said ominously. Willow struggled to hold the eye contact as she strolled in the room, holding out her hand.
Gerard clapped his own palm in hers, giving it a shake. However, he was rattled when her opposite hand curled into a fist and crashed against his cheekbone. Gerard grunted, cowering back in pain. His brows pinched in anger.
"That's for electrocuting and beating my sister," Willow said quietly. Her demeanor was much more shy than her actions. She pulled back from Gerard, standing straight and powerful.
Gerard sneered, "Derek's beta is your sister?"
Willow was actually amused for a moment, raising one of her brows, "Haven't you heard? Georgia's an alpha now, and a strong one."
"Where'd she get that from?" Gerard was asking for knowledge's sake, not genuine care. He was curious on her power, though, and if she killed Derek of all people.
"Oliver Blythe," the name made him sit a little straighter, "and Deucalion."
Gerard nearly laughed. He thought she was lying in an attempt to scare him. But, as he remained level with Willow's stare, he realized she was telling the truth. Gerard sat a little straighter in his chair, pursing his lips.
Even he failed to kill Deucalion once upon a time.
"Did you come to brag?" Gerard asked in a snippy tone. His little arms crossed, like he was shielding himself.
"A little," Willow admitted before rummaging into her purse. She got out an old book, flipping to the page she had memorized. Then she approached him, "I want you to tell me what this is."
Gerard accepted the book, scrutinizing the worn page. Ingredients were listed, along with instructions. He recognized what it was immediately, "What does it look like?"
Willow hesitated, feeling dumb. In the end she sighed, "It looks like a witch cook book."
"A grimoire," Gerard confirmed, nodding along. He stared down his nose and read the page, biting back his burning curiosity as to why Willow had this. He could guess well enough. He cleared his throat, deciding to tell her more, "Oliver Blythe was a witch before a werewolf."
Willow's brows shot up, grabbing a chair and pulling it over, "A witch?"
Gerard nodded, "Yes. It's why Deucalion changed him in the first place. But, once bitten, Oliver couldn't preform spells. Magic still coursed through his blood, but he was a witch no longer," Gerard grew uninterested with the book and shut it, handing it back to Willow, "Why are you here?"
"You know more about the supernatural than pretty much anyone around," Willow explained. It was really a last ditch effort, "Is it possible? The spell?"
Gerard huffed, "No. You can't bring people back from the dead."
"Peter Hale came back," Willow countered pointedly.
"Peter was supernatural," he said, bored, "He harnessed the power of a full moon and a banshee."
"What if someone was killed by the supernatural?" Willow prompted, thought she didn't want to give details. She didn't want him to know fully why she was there, holding onto Oliver's pathetic claim that he could revive Lillian Ray.
"You'd need a witch's magic to do it, and a powerful one at that," Gerard turned down, making Willow slump in her seat, "It's not possible."
Willow didn't stay in that cloud of stench any longer. She stood and stormed out of there, not bothering with thanks or farewells.
It hurt, knowing that her mother would stay dead after all.
Maybe it was on her for trusting a dead man's words.
* * * * *
Beacon Hills just kept becoming more and more like hell, it seemed. It only made sense that during Mischief day, a serial killer would end up at the high school. William Barrow, the man convicted for killing several teenagers who dozens of flies spontaneously exploded out of during surgery.
As soon as the police arrived at school, Georgia and Stiles were chasing after the Sheriff.
"The William Barrow? The Shrapnel Bomber? Spotted nearby?" Stiles was echoing as his sneakers squeaked against the linoleum.
Noah turned, glancing to assure nobody was listening before confirming, "A little closer than nearby, actually."
"How do we get down to the basement?" Agent McCall went speed-walking by with a few other officials, "I need to know where every entrance is. I don't want anybody coming in or out of the school."
Georgia and Stiles shared a glance, realizing just how bad it was. Stiles nervously grabbed her hand before looking back to his father, "Dad, what's really going on here?"
After being told the run down, the duo was off to find the rest of the pack. They walked with Isaac, Allison, and Lydia as they tried to figure out a plan of some sort.
"Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes? He said those exact words?" Isaac asked as they thumped down a set of stairs. Again he was wearing a cardigan over a white t-shirt.
"Yeah, sound familiar?" Georgia asked sarcastically, briefly making her own eyes glow red.
"And no one knows how he woke up from anesthesia. Just that when they opened him up, they found a tumor full of live flies, which in any other circumstance would be all kinds of awesome," Stiles explained to them, making aimless gestures with his hands.
"Did you say flies?" Lydia called, stood still a few feet back. They turned to see what was wrong.
"Lydia?" Allison prompted her to continue.
"All day I have been hearing this sound. It's like," she said in annoyance, pursing her lips as she tried to name it, "this buzzing."
"Like, bzzzzz?" Georgia imitated the sound of a fly. Stiles rolled his eyes, but it was enough as Lydia nodded her head.
"Exactly like the sound of flies."
From there, Stiles and Georgia were off to find Scott. Really what that meant was Georgia dragging him by his hand as she followed his scent. They arrived near the history classroom when they spotted him. Stiles was about ready to pass out as they ran up to him.
"Hey, dude, where the hell have you been?!" Stiles said in greeting. Before Scott could even respond, Lydia came running from the other end.
"The police are leaving. Why are they leaving?" she huffed out, also a little out of breath.
"The police?" Scott asked, clearly out of the loop.
"They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he's not here," Stiles said in realization. Georgia pressed her lips together, not sure rather to believe their sweep or Lydia's instincts.
Lydia was usually more right than the humans of Beacon Hills, though.
"Who? What are you guys—?" poor Scott only got interrupted.
"He has to be here," Lydia insisted, "That sound, the buzzing I've been hearing. It's getting louder
"How loud?" Stiles asked. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, suggesting it was uncomfortably noisy. Stiles and Georgia locked eyes again, nodding as they decided to go after the Sheriff and change his mind.
Just as they went to dart away, Scott caught Georgia's wrist, therefore also stopping Stiles, "What the hell's going on?"
Georgia rolled her eyes, "There's a serial killer making Lydia hear flies! God, Scott, keep up," she sassed like it was obvious before allowing Stiles to drag her away this time.
"Dad! Dad!" Stiles went running over to the sheriff while Georgia stayed back with Lydia.
Lydia trailed her fingers along the wall she was leaning against, pretending not to be listening whereas Georgia blatantly stared, hands falling on her hips. As they stood there, Lydia couldn't help but spark up a conversation.
"Did the twins come to you before Scott, looking for an alpha?" Lydia asked, her line of sight pointed at her hands rather than the blonde.
Georgia squinted a little as she was taken aback, "Did you tell them to?"
Lydia tilted her head back and forth, somewhat dancing around the actual answer, "I didn't tell them to, I more just suggested it," she pursed her lips with a faint shrug.
Georgia scoffed, "You're serious?" Lydia hesitantly met her eyes, giving a little nod, "They'll never be in my pack, Lydia. I can't—" they both paused their banter to smile and wave at the Sheriff when he looked their way, "—forgive them like that."
Georgia turned to walk away, hearing that the police were leaving, but Lydia caught her arm, "Look, I can feel the divide in the pack," she said quietly, "Right now, the only one you've got is Malia, and she's not exactly here right now. I just thought you'd want somebody."
"I'm not friggin' Derek," Georgia pulled herself free, "I'm not desperate for some betas to bitch around," she sighed, glancing at Stiles who was beginning to approach them, "I chose to leave Scott's pack, I don't expect anyone else to follow me."
Her phone beeped with a text from Scott, saying he got the shrapnel bomber's scent from his mom. Georgia nodded goodbye to Lydia, leaving before Stiles could catch up.
It was easy for Georgia to weave down different halls, following Scott's scent. Her heightened senses created a map of sorts on where everybody was and had been.
She turned down a corridor, meeting up with not only Scott and Isaac, but also the twins. Georgia clenched her teeth as she slid in beside Isaac.
"No luck with Stilinski," she updated them, hands falling on her hips.
"Lydia thinks that he's still here even though the cops searched the whole school. But they didn't have one thing," Scott opened the bag in his hands, pulling out what Barrow was wearing at the hospital, "Our sense of smell."
The group of wolves inhaled the scent before going to search the building. They went down into the basement before splitting up. Scott went with Isaac, Georgia went solo, and the twins stuck together.
It was a creepy scenery down there. The lights were dim and red, casting dark shadows everywhere. Georgia felt a little on edge, knowing this serial killer had a thing for kids with glowing eyes.
Such as her ruby red irises.
She looked everywhere, trying to sniff out even the slightest detection of Barrow. No matter where she looked or how hard she tried, Georgia found nothing.
She was just starting to get annoyed when the fire alarm went off. No doubt it had to do with Barrow. She went running, meeting up with Scott, Isaac, and the twins. They all went upstairs and outside, gathering in a little group.
Stiles spotted them, him and Lydia walking over. Georgia shook her head, suggesting it was a lost cause.
"We didn't find anything," Aiden said.
Scott added on, "Not even a scent."
"It's 3:00, so school's over," Stiles began, "If there was a bomb, wouldn't he have set it off by now?"
"Probably," Georgia agreed, "Not exactly his first rodeo."
"Does that mean everybody's safe?" Aiden asked, unsure of how to proceed. Georgia rolled her eyes.
"No, actually, Aiden, nobody's safe because we haven't found him," she sassed with a sarcastic smile. Aiden just huffed.
Inevitable, all eyes fell on Lydia.
"I don't know," she muttered, staring off into nothing in particular, "I just I don't know."
* * * * *
To be honest, Georgia didn't feel like being alone with Lydia at the moment. They were up in Stiles' room while the boy himself was downstairs talking on the phone with his dad.
Georgia tried to busy herself with her and Stiles' investigation board, but there wasn't anything to be added. It had various pictures relating to the supernatural chaos in Beacon Hills, all connected by yarn.
"What do the different colored strings mean?" Lydia either didn't notice the awkward tension or chose to work through it. She laid on her stomach on Stiles' bed, wrapping a string around her finger a few times.
"Me and Stiles do it to connect everything," Georgia explained, gesturing with one hand while she nibbled on the opposite thumb nail, "Green is solved, yellow is working on it, and blue is Stiles' favorite color," she shrugged.
"What does red mean?" Lydia noticed that was most prominent.
Georgia sighed, "I was afraid you'd ask that. Unsolved."
"You only have red on the board."
"Thanks for pointing it out."
The two girls lapsed back to silence. This time it was more obvious to Lydia that there was some underlying tensions.
"I'm sorry for telling Ethan and Aiden to go to you looking for a pack," Lydia decided to be straightforward rather than avoiding it, "I understand why you don't forgive them, and I need you to know that I'd never go behind your back."
Georgia turned to face her at last, dropping her thumb from her lips. She did a little smile, nodding, "It's okay, Lydia. I understand."
"I shouldn't have said what I did earlier," Lydia knew everything wasn't okay, and needed to fully apologize before it blew up later, "It came out wrong. You're not alone, even if Scott's not your alpha. You still have the pack."
Georgia's smile felt a little less forced as she walked over, squatting in front of the bed. She carefully detangled all of the string before it could cut off circulation, "I know."
"I'm still sorry that I haven't been the best friend to you," Lydia said quietly, ashamed as her eyes lined with salty tears, "I never apologized for what happened last year, when I was so rude to you. You never stopped looking out for me and saving me. I care about you, Georgia."
"I care about you too," Georgia promised, giving her hand a little squeeze.
"If I'm being honest, I also don't hate the sound of an all girl pack."
Georgia's jaw dropped, the two of them busting out into little laughs. However, Georgia shook her head, "Nah, I'd never ask any of you to leave Scott. You shouldn't have to chose."
Lydia shrugged, gaze flicking down to her hands again, "I barely feel like part of the pack anyways."
Georgia frowned, realizing just how much self-loathing she was experiencing. It reminded her of Malia's cave, and how it stunk of depression.
"You're an important part of his pack," Georgia insisted.
"Even after today?" she challenged, "Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?"
"The banshee thing isn't as easy as the werewolf thing, and you handle it better than anybody," Georgia tried to comfort, "None of that was your fault, you shouldn't blame yourself."
"No scent. No bomb. And I upset you," Lydia listed sadly.
"Hey," Georgia urged her to look back up, "I believe you. If you say he was there, then he was fucking there. Okay? I know it. Even if—" Georgia cut off, her brows furrowing as she thought harder.
Lydia blinked, "Even if what?"
"What if he wasn't there to plant the bomb, but just prepare," Georgia was already standing up and grabbing her jacket off of Stiles bed, pulling it on, "The science lab is probably the closest place to get shit to make a bomb, remember the night at the school with Peter?"
Lydia nodded, also standing up, "The molotov cocktails."
They both rushed for the door. As they pulled it open, Stiles was standing there. Lydia jumped while Georgia placed a hand over her racing heart.
"Jesus, Stiles, you—"
"We need to get to the school, I realized—"
"Yeah no shit, way ahead of you," Georgia took her turn interrupting him. Lydia smiled a little at their interaction before they all rushed off to Roscoe.
They could only hope they'd stop Barrow in time.
* * * * *
Arriving at the school, the three of them headed for the proper room. Georgia had some paperclips rattling in her pocket, ready to pick the lock.
"So what are we looking for?" Lydia asked. Before she could get an answer, Stiles walked straight through the door, "That was supposed to be locked."
"Yeah. I know," Stiles nodded, looking around at the various glasses sat around, "Notice anything else?"
"It smells like chemicals," Lydia remarked.
"No wonder we couldn't find him," Georgia frowned as she looked around. It was disturbing to think he was so close, literally right under their noses.
"He was here, performing very minor surgery on himself. You were right," Stiles confirmed, glancing over at Lydia.
"Hell yeah she was," Georgia grinned, tossing her arm around the strawberry blonde's shoulders.
"Then why don't I feel good about this?" Lydia mused, not satisfied.
"Probably because he was here to kill somebody," Stiles said.
"But who?"
"That's what we gotta figure out," Stiles stood back to his feet, "We could spread out, start looking for Anything."
They exited the closet, beginning to look around the actual classroom. While Stiles and Georgia searched the different tables, Lydia was drawn to the chalkboard at the front.
"Lydia, what are those?" Stiles asked, seeing the writing.
Georgia blinked like he was dumb, "Numbers?"
"Atomic numbers," Lydia corrected.
"Is it a formula?" Stiles asked as he and Georgia went to stand beside her.
"Not really. 19's potassium, 53's iodine, 88's radium. The first two make potassium iodide," Lydia shrugged, beginning to write the letters symbolizing each element.
Stiles narrowed his eyes, "Potassium is K?"
"Have you never looked at a periodic table?" Georgia raised a sassy brow. Stiles pulled a face, staring at her.
"From kalium, the scientific neo-Latin name," Lydia interrupted their playful banter. By now, she had a K and an I.
Stiles came to the same realization, "What's radium?"
Lydia wrote it down, "R-A."
The three teens shared a glance.
"Kira."
a/n
i didn't realize it's been like 2 weeks since i updated but here you go babies ❤️