Rachel regretted many things in life.
But she sure as hell did not regret chasing Jackson through the woods all night. She never thought she'd be the type to find humour in a person pleading for their life. Rachel was far from a psychopath, and even if she did have a few sociopathic traits; she wasn't crazy. But chasing after Jackson, with high-pitched screams echoing through the night, she swore she'd never felt more alive.
He might not have known it, but her intentions weren't to harm or kill him; they were to teach him a lesson. Jackson was crossing battle lines before they'd even been drawn, and if Rachel hadn't of stepped in; the possibilities of him becoming one of Beacon Hills' many casualties were disturbingly high.
In a way, she saved him.
Though her methods were a little unorthodox, Rachel, in a way, believed she'd prevented the dangerous fallout of Jackson's trouble-seeking. She gave him exactly what he'd asked for, therefore stopping him from going back to Derek. And to add to her confidence, her perfectly thought out plan had not a single fault. The bite wouldn't change Jackson, because Rachel wasn't a werewolf. It was merely a masquerade used to shelter the serpent she really was; a reflector. Her plan was complete & utter perfection.
And the entire way home, all she did was revel in the glory of it. She'd solved the problem without even consulting her brother, and all she had to do was get a little blood on her hands. Nobody died, Jackson thought he got what he wanted, and everything was wonderful. Hell, maybe she could even use him as her puppet.
After all, he totally owed her.
But the favour could wait. A certain strawberry blonde was still hospitalized, sporting an abnormally large & unhealed bite mark on her side, which according to Scott, was the complete opposite of what'd happened to him. Various texts had littered the screen of her phone once she'd finally scrubbed the blood from her hands & checked it. Stiles was staying with her at the hospital, and Scott was certain he'd passed out, leaving Rachel as the last option to check up on Lydia whilst he was "busy."
She didn't even need to ask to know that it involved everyone's favourite archer. The red-eyed reflector had hurriedly changed out of her blood-stained (and slightly torn) clothes, and into another outfit consisting of her signature leather jacket. Rachel had luckily taken it off before chasing after Jackson, in a weak attempt of giving him a head start. Hell, she could've played a game of chess & still caught him; she was supernatural, and he was human.
And thanks to her, all he would ever be is human.
Rachel managed to push all thoughts of her previous night to the back of her mind, as she rounded yet another corner in the maze of white hallways. She was beginning to wonder if she'd entered into her own rendition of the Maze Runner until her eyes finally locked on a familiar unconscious boy, sprawled out on a row of chairs. The brunette rolled her eyes, her heels clicking against the floor lightly as she walked over the Stiles. Still very much unconscious, he clearly was more than conscious in the world of dreams.
"You're dirty." He muttered puckering his lips. The nurse beside him gave him a strange look, whilst Rachel struggled to muffled her laughter. Of all the times he could've had one of those dreams, this was by far the worst. Still, Rachel found it hilarious; hilarious enough to play along.
"Am I?" She raised a brow, kneeling down beside him.
All too soon, Stiles awoke, both confused & disoriented. The duration of his aforementioned confusion lasted for approximately four seconds, until he turned & saw Rachel; their faces just inches apart.
"Morning, sunshine." She smiled, standing back up straight. "So, tell me; which of E. L. James' books have you been reading?"
"What? None." Stiles hissed, rolling off the row of chairs uncomfortably. The row had been his makeshift bed for the past two nights, and it was beginning to show.
"Mhm, alright." Rachel nodded, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. The brunette's attention was quickly diverted from her previous joke & onto that of a more important topic; the face that she was freaking starving. The last time she could recall eating something was the bag of Doritos she'd been stuffing in her mouth before Jackson had rudely interrupted.
"You hungry?" Stiles raised a brow, digging around in his pocket for some spare change.
"A little." Rachel shrugged, lying through her teeth. She was certain she could eat an entire deer in under five minutes, but she wasn't about to admit that to Stiles. "I wonder what the cafeteria has?"
"Trust me, you don't want to find out." Stiles cringed, directing her to the vending machine down the hallway. "You like Reese's?"
"Would you hate me if I said no?"
"Yes."
"I guess I like Reese's, then." Rachel bit her lip, putting a few coins into the machine & pressing the letter I. A pack of Reese's cups fell to the bottom, the brunette quickly retrieving them & moving out of the way. Stiles repeated her actions, adding a few coins to the machine & pressing I, only the Reese's cup didn't fall. Instead, it got stuck on the metal spiral.
"Seriously?" Stiles muttered, hitting his fist against the glass. "Come on!"
"Stiles, just have mine. I'm not a chocolate fan, anyways." Rachel shook her head, but the boy was adamant on getting what he paid for. "You can't lift the machine! You're like a hundred pounds."
Still, Stiles wasn't giving up. But little to his knowledge, neither was the vending machine; and as it began to tilt, the spastic boy's anger turned to fear as he jumped out of the way. Seconds later, the machine toppled over, on the exact place he'd been standing just moments earlier. The glass shattered, littering the floor in tiny crystals; each of which seemed to reflect Rachel's look of annoyance.
But before she could manage to verbalize the aforementioned irritation, another noise cut through the formerly quite hallway. A piercing scream echoed throughout the maze of halls, triggering an intense ringing in the brunette's ears. Without question, she knew it's origin; and judging by his expression of horror; Stiles did, too.
"Lydia?" He yelled, dodging the fallen vending machine as he ran towards her room. Rachel followed closely behind, not sure of what to expect.
Her expression remained relatively emotionless for a few seconds, holding onto the hope that her friend had merely been scared by a spider. But that hope was soon crushed upon arriving in the room to find an open window, a hospital gown & no Lydia.
She was gone.
⠀⠀⠀⠀↻
12:07am
From: Alli
Where are you?
To: Alli
Where I always am when there's hunters out.
From: Alli
Which is...?
To: Alli
Allison, you're one of my best friends, despite having shot my brother multiple times, but there is no way in hell I'm telling you. It's bad enough that your dad's hunting Lydia, I'd really like to keep myself & Derek off his radar for tonight.
Rachel sighed quietly, leaning back against the cold trunk of a tree as she lowered the brightness of her phone screen. Various voices could be heard in the distance through her enhanced hearing, which told her she'd indeed followed the right trail. Contrary to the way she'd hinted being hidden to Allison, Rachel was far from safety.
After leaving the hospital to avoid an awkward confrontation with the town Sheriff, Rachel had gone straight to tracking Lydia. She was still a werewolf, until she slipped up & accidentally reflected someone else; so she may as well put it to good use. Once she'd been informed that the Argents were also in search of the aforementioned strawberry blonde, Rachel was even more motivated to chase after her.
But Lydia was fast; faster than Rachel, and she doubted the Argents even had a fragment of a chance at catching her. Rachel had tracked her all the way from the hospital, to her house & through the graveyard; where she was nearly spotted by the grave-digger. (who she may or may not have stopped to stare at for a second, because he was kinda-sorta-maybe cute)
Still, Lydia was nowhere to be found, and after one last run around her house; Rachel had given up. If couldn't find Lydia, nobody could; at least, not until she wanted to be found. But that wasn't about to stop the three musketeers from trying; and sure as hell, Scott wasn't going to accept losing Lydia as easily as Rachel had. The strawberry blonde had to be somewhere, and he was going to find her.
In Scott's defence, Rachel hadn't openly admitted to running around town at a supernatural speed in search of the girl. (and she wasn't going to, because Derek would totally kill her) Scott was only doing what he believed to be the right thing, and even if he was inevitably endangering his own life, he was still going to search for Lydia. And with no way of calling or texting him without setting off his annoyingly loud ringtone & alerting everyone of his whereabouts, (particularly the Argents, if he so-happened to be hiding from them) Rachel had no other choice than to let him.
Her only communication was with Allison; who's phone could be under the surveillance of her werewolf hunting parents, meaning Scott, Stiles & Allison were going to have to waste their time. The light buzz of her phone against her hand drew her attention away from the hunters & back onto her friends; who were still attempting to gain another supernatural for their search party.
From: Unknown Number
We're in the preserve, hurry up.
From: Unknown Number
Wait, no.
From: Unknown Number
Abort mission, abort mission. I repeat, ABORT MISSION!!!!!!
Rachel rolled her eyes in annoyance, typing up a quick reply before dropping her phone in the leaves beside her. Even with the anonymous mask of Unknown Caller, it was beyond clear who'd sent the text. Everybody's (except Derek's) favourite spaz.
To: Batman
Stiles, who the fuck gave you my number?
Stiles glanced down at his phone, the screen almost unreadable in such dim lighting. Just a few metres in front of him, were the Argents; the hunters Rachel was so desperately trying to remain hidden from. The centre of their attention? Scott; hanging by his ankle from a trap that'd originally been meant for Lydia. And none other than Chris Argent was currently explaining what a hemicorporectomy (the surgical art of chopping someone in half) was.
To: Raebae
You think I'm Batman?
To: Batman
Tell me who gave you my number, or you'll be downgraded to Robin.
From: Batman
Fine, it was Allison. Derek said no.
To: Batman
Speaking of Derek, have you heard from him? Scratch that; of course you haven't. If Argent doesn't chop him in half, can you ask Scott if he's heard from Derek?
From: Batman
Wait, where the hell are you?
From: Batman
Never mind, I see you.
To: Batman
How the hell do yo-
Rachel didn't even get a chance to finish typing her text, because Stiles (along with Scott & Allison) had already walked out from behind the tree she'd been using as shelter to hide from the Argents. Stiles held out a hand, which Rachel reluctantly grabbed & he pulled her up off the ground.
"You're welcome." Stiles scoffed.
Rachel forced a fake smile, followed by a reply more sarcastic than the initial comment. "I didn't thank you."
"I know."
"Great, now that you've figured that out; we can move on to the real topic of interest." Rachel clapper her hands together, her smile fading as she spoke again. "None of us found Lydia. After I left the hospital, I tried to catch up to her, but she was too fast. The only thing I succeeded in doing was scaring a gravedigger & messing up my hair. We're running in circles like a dog chasing it's tail, and if you haven't noticed; I'm not a dog, I'm a wolf. Call me when you've got a plan B."
⠀⠀⠀⠀↻
9:45am
To: Wolverine
I'd appreciated a text to inform me you're not dead in a ditch.
From: Wolverine
I'm not dead in a ditch.
To: Wolverine
Good. Because I'm going to kill you & hide your body in a ditch. I've been texting you all night, where the hell have you been?
Rachel's phone buzzed once again with a reply, but before she could tap on the message app, the phone was snatched out of her grip. Once she looked up to see who'd taken it, she instantly wanted to bash her head off the desk in front of her. Of course she'd chosen Satan's class to partake in a conversation with her brother. (that likely wouldn't end, until one managed to grow angry enough to break their phone)
"Miss Hale, this is is a pop quiz, not an episode of Pretty Little Liars. In my class, I don't allow phones." Harris snapped, taking her phone & dropping it into one of his desk drawers. "You can pick this up at the end of detention, which you'll be serving alongside Mister Stilinski; who's dangerously close to acquiring detention for the rest of his high school career if he doesn't stop talking."
"Can you do that?" Stiles questioned, ironically at the same time Rachel questioned "You watch PLL?"
"There is it again. Your voice, alongside the shrill pitch of hers. Both of which seem to trigger the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student repeatedly and violently. I'll see both of you at 3:00 for detention." Turning to Scott, he added, "You too, Mister McCall?"
"No, sir." Scott muttered, shaking his head.
But by then, Rachel had already tuned out everyone except one person in the room; one of which had caught her attention with ease. Next to Danny, Jackson sat staring idly towards the front of the room; completely unaware of the black blood beginning to drip from his nose.
Once the situation had been brought to attention, he quickly sprung up from his seat & rushed out of the classroom. Wasting no time, Rachel followed; ignorant of the yell from Harris that was nearly inaudible by the time she'd reached the door in which Jackson chose to hide behind. Of course, it'd been the boys' washroom, the one & only room in the high school in which she wasn't allowed to enter.
"Jackson, open up!" She whisper-yelled, smacking her knuckles against the cold metal door. "I know you're in there, and I know you're not in there for the reasons you should be. Get out here & tell me what the hell's wrong."
"Go away." He yelled back, hurriedly trying to stop the black blood from creating a mess.
"If you don't come out, I'm coming in." Rachel snapped, biting her lip as she knocked again. Truthfully, she couldn't care less about whether or not Jackson was okay; she needed to know for herself. Surely he couldn't be reacting to the bite; he was bitten by a freaking reflector, a girl of whom has no werewolf blood flowing through her veins whatsoever, despite being born a Hale.
"I said, go away!" Jackson yelled back, this time louder. He wasn't about to admit being mildly concerned to Rachel, of all people. He could deal with it on his own; after all, maybe it was just a part of the werewolf transformation that Scott never told him about?
"That's it." Rachel muttered, checking that the halls were clear before pushing through the metal door.
Jackson stood next to the sink, attempting to look relatively okay, but the effort was evidently weak. Just from a quick glance, Rachel could see the bruises forming beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and the black blood once again beginning to leak from his nose. He was far from okay, and she had a sickening feeling that she was the cause of it.
"When did this start?" She questioned, crossing her arms tightly over her chest in annoyance.
"It doesn't matter." He snapped back, once again wiping away the blood from his face.
"Something's wrong, and if I'm going to try & help you, I need to know the details." Rachel rolled her eyes, her level of annoyance now weighing equally with her anxiety. "You're with me now."
"Wait- with you?" Jackson chuckled, a hint of humour now surfacing through the once concerned exterior. "Me.. with you? What am I, your little pet? Just because you gave me the bite doesn't mean I'm a part of your little wolf pack. Sorry, but to be honest; you don't exactly show outstanding leadership qualities."
"I might not look the part, but I don't think you're fully aware of my capabilities." Rachel pursed her lips, leaning against the sink boredly. "And until you've educated yourself, I suggest you make like the omega you are & find yourself a supernatural doctor to treat that little nosebleed."
Rachel turned to exit, but before she could, yet another trait caught her eye; not only did Jackson have a nosebleed, but the black blood had also begun to trail down the side of his neck. The brunette turned back, walking over to him & turning his head so he'd see it in the mirror. Upon realization, his smugness faded fast & was replaced yet again by the concern she'd seen when she first arrived.
"What is it?" Jackson questioned, his voice shaking slightly. "What's happening?"
"I- I think.." Rachel trailed off, staring at Jackson worriedly. "I think your body's fighting the bite."
"What does it mean?" He shouted. "What does it mean?"
"I don't- I-" She stuttered, shaking her head. Before he could question further, she turned & ran out of the bathroom, continuing down the hall & out of the school. This was never supposed to happen. All she meant to do was scare him, and now, because of her; he's dying. As much as she wanted her mind to come up with a better, plausible explanation; she knew full well that it was the bitter & relentless truth. It was undeniable at this point; no human explanation could be accepted for an illness that practically screamed supernatural.
Jackson Whittemore was dying, and the only person left to blame was Rachel.
⠀⠀⠀⠀↻
So yeah, as you can probably tell; I found a way to incorporate Rachel not only into season 2, but into the kanima plot line. And I promised Isaac would be in this chapter, but I didn't say how HAH. Technically they met, even if it didn't involve speaking. I'm pretty happy with how the last half of this chapter turned out, and I really hope you all like it. I wrote it while watching JB's roast (Kevin's so goddamn tiny but he fucking slayed, even if he did lose his shit like 5000 times)
so uh, yeah. I wanna get through S2 really fast, because ive got a pretty rad plot for Rachel in 3A & 3B (and if scarf boy returns to beacon hills in season five, i'll also be writing season four) Lastly... I'm sorry for the super slow update. It's been a week, and this chapter was hell to write because I'm sick.
Lastly, let's appreciate the brotp that is #riles, and cry over their cute contact names. Raebae & Batman, ftw. It's such a shame I'm friendzoning them. Whoops.
Comment opinions? c: