Connected

//oh you are not ready for this one//

I didn't leave the hospital. The doors locked down and I saw Stiles sitting with his head in his hands. I moved beside him, gently resting my head on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise but relaxed once he saw me.

"Scott went with Deucalion." He said quietly.

"I knew he would." I said simply. "Same reason I was cornered by Jennifer again. They're playing us against each other." He exhaled, not saying anything else.

"Oh, just perfect," Stiles muttered, looking up at seeing Scott's dad coming in.

"A federal agent showing up late to the disaster? What a shocker," I added, matching Stiles' tone of exasperation.

Rafael McCall barely spared me a glance before zeroing in on Stiles. "A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess. Shocking. Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

I scoffed before Stiles could even respond, giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Think you can ask questions without the usual level of condescension?"

Stiles snorted, grinning approvingly. "See, this is why I keep her around."

Rafael's lips pressed into a thin line as he turned back to Stiles. "Where is your dad, and why has no one been able to contact him?"

Stiles gave an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know. Haven't seen him in hours."

"Is he drinking again?"

My eyes narrowed at that. "Wow, do you talk to all concerned kids like this, or are we just special?"

"What do you mean, 'again?'" Stiles cut in, irritation creeping into his voice. "He never had to stop."

"But he did have to slow down. Is he drinking like he used to?" Rafael pressed, eyes sharp.

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, yeah, totally. Right before his shift, he chugs a whole bottle of whiskey and then goes out solving cases like a total badass." I tilted my head. "Or, maybe, just maybe, he's missing because something way more important is going on."

Stiles smirked. "How about this? Next time I see him, I'll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We'll do the alphabet-start with 'F,' end with 'U...'"

Rafael exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly losing patience. "How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?"

Stiles sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We don't know what happened here. We were stuck in the elevators the whole time."

Rafael studied them both, skeptical. Then, his eyes flicked toward the doors, brow furrowing. "You're not the ones who put the name on the doors, are you?"

"What name?" I asked, frowning.

-----☾-----

As I sat in the Argents' apartment, the tension in the room felt like a live wire. My arms were crossed as I listened, but my mind kept drifting-back to the elevator, to the name on the wall, to Jennifer's voice in my head telling me that I was the key.

"The word is 'guardian,' Allison," Argent said, his voice laced with something that almost sounded like regret. "More than anyone, you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately." The use of a guardian made me flinch.

"But she took Scott's mom and Stiles' dad," Allison countered. "That's not a coincidence."

"Yeah," I added, "I'd also consider the fact that someone put your name up in large block letters on the elevator door. That kind of felt like a warning to me..."

Allison tapped the table, thinking aloud. "I think it might be Morrell. She knows a lot more than she lets on, and she might even be trying to help us."

"Well, she needs to get on that a lot faster, okay?" Stiles snapped. "Seeing as how the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away..."

Argent placed a steadying hand on the table. "Stiles, don't give up hope."

Stiles scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "They could already be dead."

I reached out for Stiles, wrapping my hand in his, he gave me a small smile, and I returned it.

"I don't think so," Argent said firmly. "There's something about Jennifer's tactics... It's like she's still positioning. Still moving pieces into place."

"And you're one of them," Allison pointed out.

"Then let's not wait around to see the next move," Argent decided. He pulled out a map, spreading it across the table. "Everything she's done has been on a telluric current, so Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of those currents, right?"

Stiles hesitated before sighing. "You seriously want to go after her? I mean, what if she just takes you like the others, huh? No offense, but what's the difference between you and them?"

Argent's expression was stone cold. "I'm carrying a .45. Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face, but personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off."

The bluntness of it made my stomach turn, but I couldn't argue with the logic.

Argent continued, "We've got one priority right now, and that is to find Melissa and your dad. We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out-the only thing we don't have is time, which is why I need both of you."

Stiles sighed, rubbing his temples. "Where do we start?"

"The places where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found," Argent explained. "I think the placement has to do with the strength of the current, so there's the school, the animal clinic, the bank..."

My eyes widened with realization. "Wait a sec-she wouldn't use the same place twice, would she?"

"...Only if she didn't succeed the first time," Argent mused.

"Scott's boss," Allison said suddenly.

"Deaton," Argent confirmed. "It was her only failure. That could mean something."

"That's just one place so far," Stiles muttered. "We're gonna need a lot more help."

"What about Lydia?" Allison suggested.

Argent raised a skeptical brow. "Lydia? What can she do?"

Stiles hesitated before answering, "Uh, Lydia's got sort of a talent... She somehow ended up finding a couple of the bodies, um... without actually looking for them."

Argent frowned. "What is she? Psychic?"

Stiles shook his head. "She's something."

As Argent moved toward his weapons cache, Stiles and I exchanged a look. He didn't have to say it-we were both thinking the same thing. We were in way over our heads.

"Whoa..." Stiles muttered as Argent revealed an arsenal of weapons. "I thought you guys were retired...?"

"Retired, yes," Argent said, loading a clip into his gun. "Defenseless? No." He turned and pulled a few knives off the wall, passing them to me. "Allison told me she had been training you. I saw you with Gerard."

I nodded, taking them from him. "Thank you."

He turned to us, serious. "Make sure your phone's on. If you hear from Scott, you let us know immediately."

Stiles let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I'm thinking that's gonna be kind of unlikely..."

"Both of you, try to remember-he's just doing what he thinks is right," Argent said. I cringed, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Isaac flicked out his claws, stepping forward. "I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow, but... well..." He flexed his fingers. "I'm getting pretty good with these."

I exhaled, pushing off from where I was leaning. "You guys go. Maybe Lydia can help us." I looked between Allison and Isaac, my voice softening. "Be safe."

They both nodded, and I pulled Alli into a hug. I knew we were still in a weird place, but I needed her to be safe.

-----☾-----

I sat on the edge of Lydia's bed, wrapping my arms around myself as she paced in front of me. The room was dim, the weight of everything pressing down on us like a suffocating blanket.

"I don't believe it," Lydia muttered, shaking her head. "Scott can't really be with them. He can't be."

I wanted to agree with her, to say something reassuring, but I pictured myself standing in front of Jennifer, and I couldn't say the words. I glanced at Stiles, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would make this feel less real.

"You didn't see the look on his face, though," Stiles said, his voice unusually quiet. "It was..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

Lydia turned back to us, desperate. "Then, what can I do?"

She looked between us, searching for an answer neither of us had. I could see the frustration in her eyes, the way she hated feeling powerless. "I mean, I get that I'm some kind of, like, human Geiger-counter for death," she continued, exhaling sharply. "But I don't know how to turn it on and off yet. All I know is that she tried to kill me because of..."

She stopped, her mouth slightly open, as if the words had just caught in her throat.

Stiles sat up straight. "Because of what?"

Lydia didn't answer. "Lydia, what?" Stiles pressed, his voice more urgent now.

My eyes widened as I put the pieces together. "What she said, when she had us tied up."

"When she called me a Banshee, she was surprised by it," Lydia said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if that's not why she tried to kill me?"

Stiles and I exchanged a look. My stomach twisted.

"Then why did she?" I asked, already knowing the answer was going to change everything.

Lydia inhaled sharply, her eyes darting between us.

"That's what we need to find out."

-----♡-----

The halls of Beacon Hills High School were eerily quiet, the usual buzz of students replaced with an oppressive silence that settled over us like a storm cloud. Lydia paced in front of me, phone in hand, staring down at her screen with a frown.

"Aiden's still not texting me back..." she muttered, biting her lip. Cassie and I stood nearby, waiting, quietly. "Okay, well, maybe we could just..." Lydia hesitated, glancing up. "We could go over there, and-"

I felt my phone buzz in my hand. I glanced down, expecting something minor-maybe Isaac giving an update, or Allison checking in-but the moment I read the words on my screen, my heart dropped to my stomach.

"Oh, God..."

Lydia froze. "What is it now?"

"What?" Cassie asked, her voice suddenly afraid.

I couldn't speak. The words stuck in my throat like glue. My fingers clenched tighter around my phone as I forced myself to say it.

"It's from Isaac," I croaked. "Jennifer, she t-she has Allison's father. She took him. She's got all three now."

Lydia inhaled sharply, but she recovered quickly, shaking her head. "There's still time..." she whispered. "We still have time, right?"

I didn't answer.

"Stiles?" Lydia took a step closer.

Something was wrong. The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thick, too heavy. My vision blurred, and suddenly, I couldn't catch my breath. My chest tightened like a vice.

"Stiles?" Lydia's voice echoed, distant, distorted.

I gasped, but it felt like I was breathing through a straw. My head spun, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. "I think-" My fingers curled around my shirt as I stumbled back. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Before I could sink to the floor, I felt someone grab my wrist-Cassie.

"Come on," she said, her voice urgent but steady. She pulled me toward the locker room, away from the open hallway, away from the suffocating walls.

The second the door shut behind us, she guided me to sit on the bench, crouching in front of me.

"Stiles, look at me," Cassie said firmly. "You're okay."

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "I can't-I can't breathe, I-"

"Okay, okay, just-just try and think about something else! Anything else!"

"Like what?!" I choked out, gripping the edges of my seat.

"Happy things! Good things!" She rambled, panic creeping into her own voice. "Uh... friends? Family?" My mind instantly went to my dad, tied up, helpless-

"Oh, God..." I wheezed, the edges of my vision darkening further.

Cassie cursed under her breath, then suddenly cupped my face with both hands. "Stiles, look at me."

I barely registered her voice over the roaring in my ears.

"Shhh," she soothed, thumbs brushing against my cheeks. "Just focus on me. Follow my breathing"

Her gaze locked onto mine, steady and unwavering, her blue grounding me like an anchor in a storm. My breath still came in ragged gasps, my chest tight, but the edges of my panic wavered for just a moment.

Then she kissed me.

Soft. Warm. Completely unexpected.

I froze, my breath catching-not because of the panic this time, but because everything else just... stopped. My mind, my fear, my spiraling thoughts. All I could feel was her.

When she pulled away, her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted as if she couldn't quite believe what she'd just done. "I-" she started, then let out a nervous laugh. "Okay, okay, um-so, here's the thing-uh, I read once, somewhere, probably online, because I read a lot of weird stuff online, that holding your breath can stop a panic attack, well, after all the ones we have had, and nothing else was working, and then I thought, 'Hey, if I kiss him, he'll stop breathing for a second, and maybe that'll-'"

I leaned forward and kissed her. Her words cut off immediately.

Her hands, still resting on my face, trembled slightly before tightening, pulling me closer. My fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket, holding onto her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

When I finally pulled back, she blinked up at me, completely stunned. "That... that works too," she mumbled breathlessly.

I let out a shaky laugh, my chest still heavy but no longer crushing. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

She smiled, just a little, brushing her fingers against my jaw before her eyes widened, "Morell."

-----♡-----

I shifted on my feet, tapping my fingers against my thigh as Lydia and I stood outside Ms. Morrell's office. The tension was thick-mostly because neither of us were really in the mood for delays.

"Are you here for Ms. Morrell?" I asked the girl waiting by the door, a little impatient myself.

She shot me a look, tone dripping with sarcasm. "No, I thought this was gym class."

Lydia, equally unimpressed, crossed her arms. "Sweetheart, we're not in the mood for funny. Do you know where she is?"

The girl, Danielle-I recognized her now-let out a sigh. "If I did, I wouldn't be waiting here for twenty minutes! So, how about you two back out the door and wait your turn?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "We're not here for a session."

"Well, I am," Danielle shot back, eyes flashing with frustration. "And I've got some serious issues to work on."

Something clicked in my brain. "Hey, wait, wait, wait-- you're Danielle. You're Heather's best friend."

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she masked it. "I was Heather's best friend. We've been working on that issue three times a week."

I exchanged a glance with Cassie. But then something else registered. Lydia's head tilted. "Hold on-- did you say Ms. Morrell's twenty minutes late?"

Danielle scoffed. "Yeah, and I don't know why, either. She's always on time."

Lydia frowned. "I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester. She was never late."

The pieces snapped together in my head like a cruel little puzzle. "...Then she's not late," I said, my stomach sinking. "She's missing."

Lydia inhaled sharply. "What if we're not the only ones who think she knows something?"

My mind was already racing ahead. "Then I want to know what she knows."

Before either of them could stop me, I was at Morrell's desk, yanking open a drawer.

Danielle gaped at me. "Those files are private!"

Lydia, ever the moral compass when it suited her, muttered, "Yeah, she's kind of right..."

Cass shrugged. "Thinking big picture, it's not that deep."

I grabbed a folder and flipped it open. "That one's yours."

Lydia snatched it from my hands, her expression flickering from annoyance to confusion in an instant.

"Wait," I said, narrowing my eyes at the paper in front of her. "Lydia-that's your drawing."

She blinked. "Yeah, I know. It's a tree."

Danielle, arms still crossed, peeked over Lydia's shoulder and nodded. "Yeah. Good, too."

Lydia barely spared her a glance. "Thank you."

But I wasn't letting this go. "No, but it's the same one, though..."

Lydia gave me a look, clearly unimpressed. "Same as what?"

"The same one I always see you drawing in class."

She shrugged. "It's a tree. I like drawing trees."

"No, but it's the exact same one," Cassie insisted, and I realized she had put it together too. "Don't you see?"

I reached for her bag before she could argue, rummaging through it and pulling out another sketch-nearly identical to the one in the file.

"There-see?" I held them up side by side.

Danielle took a step back. "Okay, you can have my session. You got bigger issues."

But Lydia was no longer listening to her. Her brows furrowed, her breath catching as realization set in.

"What is this...?" she whispered.

I swallowed hard. "I know where they are."

Lydia's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"It's the Nemeton," I continued. "That's where she's keeping them. It has to be."

Before the weight of those words could settle, a voice barked out from behind me.

"Stilinski!"

I flinched. "Agh..."

Rafael. Because, of course, the universe had to make my life just that much more difficult.

I turned to Lydia. "All right, look-- go to Derek, okay? He and Peter, they've been there before, so they'll know where it is. Tell them it's the root cellar, all right? They'll know."

Lydia nodded, understanding in her eyes, but before she could leave, Cassie grabbed her arm.

"I'm coming with you," Cassie said firmly.

I tensed. "Cass-"

She gave me a look, daring me to argue. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to say that I needed her to stay, that she'd be safer here, that I didn't want her to leave me. But I knew Cassie. And I knew she wasn't going to sit this one out.

I exhaled sharply and nodded.

"Be careful," I told her. The weight of everything I didn't, everything I couldn't say in those two words.

Cassie gave me a smirk. "You too, Stilinski."

And then she was gone, leaving me alone with my least favorite FBI agent and the sinking feeling that things were about to get worse.

-----☾-----

I followed Lydia into the loft, the second we stepped inside, she locked eyes with Peter, and her entire expression flattened into pure irritation.

"You," Lydia said, voice dripping with accusation.

Peter sighed, looking almost guilty-but only almost. "Me."

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "...You."

Peter exhaled dramatically. "Yes, me." He turned to Derek, who was watching the exchange with about as much patience as I had for Peter's dramatics-which was to say, none. "Derek, we have a visitor..."

I quickly explained what we knew, about the Nemeton and the root cellar. Neither of them spoke.

Lydia's lips pressed into a thin line, and I could feel my own temper spiking. "Why the hell arent you saying anything? People are dying-my friends are dying. Just tell us where it is!"

Peter tilted his head, a smirk creeping at the corner of his lips. "Ah, Cassandra. Always so fiery. I almost missed your endless sass."

I took a step forward, leveling him with a glare. "And I almost missed you talking in circles while innocent people are in danger. Almost."

Derek cut in before I could throw a punch-probably sensing that I was one sarcastic comment away from doing so. "We don't know where it is," he admitted, voice flat.

Lydia crossed her arms. "You don't know where it is? But Stiles said you'd been there."

Peter rubbed his temple like this was some grand inconvenience. "We have."

Lydia and I both snapped our heads toward him. "What?" Lydia asked, bewildered.

Peter rolled his eyes. "After a few memorable experiences there, Talia-Derek's mother, my older sister-decided that she didn't ever want us going back. She knew how dangerous it was and took the memory of its location from us."

My brows furrowed, confusion and frustration tangling together. "She took it?"

Peter gave me a pointed look before extending his claws and tapping his temple. "Wiped it clean, straight from our minds."

Lydia and I exchanged a glance, but my mind was already racing. If Talia had erased the memory, then there had to be a way to get it back. And I had a sickening feeling I knew exactly who could help us do that.

Lydia's voice cut through my thoughts. "...But then, how are we supposed to find it?"

I swallowed hard, "I have an idea. C'mon Lydia."

-----☾-----

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. No matter how many times I wiped them on my jeans, no matter how tightly I curled them into fists, the tremors wouldn't go away.

Scott, Stiles, and Allison stood beside me. "How'd you guys find out?" Scott asked.

"Lydia," Stiles answered. "You?"

"Morell," Scott said, exhaling. "None of the other Alphas know where it is, either."

Stiles shot him a look. "So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?"

Scott hesitated. His shoulders tensed, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I can't stop Jennifer without them." The reminder of Jennifer sent a pang of anxiety through my body.

Deaton cut in before either of them could keep arguing. "How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?"

Scott straightened. "What's the plan?"

Deaton's gaze flickered over to me briefly before he spoke, looking at Scott. "Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents."

The words settled like ice in my veins.

Scott's eyes widened. "We die for them?"

"But he can bring us back!" Stiles said quickly, his voice rising. "...You can bring us back, right?"

Deaton hesitated. "You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?"

Silence. No one moved.

"If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds..." Deaton explained, his voice calm and steady. I wished it was reassuring, but it wasn't. "But there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous ritual for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet-it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon."

Deaton turned toward me again, his expression unreadable. "Cassandra's role is trickier. I haven't heard it used more than once." He seemed to hesitate, as if he was going to say something but decided against it. "But she should be able to protect you all while you are in the mindscape. She will be on her own, though. I'm not sure what she will be facing."

My heart slammed against my ribs. My throat felt tight.

"Wait-wait," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "What exactly does that mean? Protect them how?"

Deaton's gaze softened just a little, but it didn't make me feel any better. "The mindscape is unpredictable. You'll be tethered to them, but in a different way. While they navigate their journey, you will stand as a barrier between them and whatever the Nemeton chooses to show them."

That did not sound remotely reassuring.

"So... you mean I'll be fighting something?" I swallowed. "Something from the Nemeton?"

"Possibly," Deaton admitted. "Or it could be something worse-your own fears, your own doubts. The mindscape isn't just about where they go... it's also about what they bring with them. And what you bring with you."

I felt like the room was closing in. Alone. I would be alone.

"You don't have to do this," Stiles said softly. He was standing beside me, his hand on my arm.

I turned to him, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no smirk. Just concern. The kind that made my chest ache.

But he was wrong. I did have to do this.

Because without me, there was no one else to pull them back. This was my last chance. I was a sacrifice either way, I might as well do it on my terms, not Jennifers.

I forced myself to breathe, pushing down the terror clawing its way up my spine. "No, I-I'm doing it."

Stiles held my gaze like he was waiting for me to take it back, but I didn't. He just nodded, but his hand didn't leave my body.

Deaton continued. "Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially... well, dead."

I flinched at the word. Dead. We were willingly walking into death, hoping we'd come back. Hoping I'd be strong enough to bring them back.

Deaton turned toward me again. "Cassandra will be the one protecting you, the person who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to each of you. A kind of emotional tether."

A tether.

A tether to a boy who might as well be my brother, who had been with me through everything. Who, no matter what happened, no matter how dark things got, had always been there. A boy who made me believe in good, who saw the best in people even when they didn't deserve it. Even when I didn't deserve it. Who had been my family long before we ever realized what any of this meant.

A tether to a girl who had become like a sister, in every way that it mattered. Who I had fought with and screamed at until we were red-faced, but we had also trained together, collapsed on each other's beds after brutal practices, whispered secrets in the dark when the nightmares kept us awake. Who had fought her way back from the person her family had tried to mold her into, choosing to be something better. Who wasn't just some girl who had fallen into our mess, she had chosen to stay in it. Even when it nearly broke her, even when it hurt her over and over again.

And a tether for a boy who was more than anything to me. Who had always been the person I could rely on, the person who would fight for me, even when I didn't want him to. Who, even when I pushed him away, he stayed. Who had so long been just Stiles, my best friend, my partner in crime, the boy who could make me laugh even when the world was falling apart. Who was now so much more than that.

I blinked, turning to look at the metal tubs so my friends wouldn't see my tears.

"By the way," Stiles cut in suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice was more strained than usual, like this was something he had been holding onto for a while. "If I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something..."

Scott frowned. "What?"

Stiles exhaled, glancing between Scott and me before saying, "Your dad's in town."

Scott went completely still. His jaw locked, his eyes darkened, and suddenly, I wasn't sure if this was the right moment to bring that up.

I bit my lip. "Well. That's gonna be fun when we're not possibly dead." Stiles huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. Scott didn't say anything.

I took another breath and looked at the others. "So... we just have to die first. Then we save everyone. Easy, right?"

No one answered.

"I'll see you on the other side." I said finally, stepping into the bath. Stiles, Allison and Scott pushed me under. The cold rushed through my veins, and I just tried to relax into it, my vision going dark.