Illuminated

The fluorescent lights in the sheriff's station buzzed louder than usual, or maybe that was just the headache building behind my eyes. I sat with my arms crossed, wedged between Stiles and Scott at the long table while Agent McCall circled us like we were suspects on some bad crime show.

"So, when did you get there?" Rafael asked, eyes zeroing in on Stiles.

"At the same time," Stiles said casually.

"At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me," Scott answered.

"By coincidence?" Rafael asked, eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean, 'by coincidence'?" Stiles replied, already getting defensive.

"That's what I'm asking you," Rafael said, voice tightening. "The two of you arrived at the same time, was that a coincidence?"

"Are you asking me?" Scott blinked.

"I think he's asking me," Stiles said, glancing over at him.

"I think he's asking the both of you," I quipped.

"Okay, let me answer the questions," Rafael snapped.

"Pretty sure you meant ask, but grammar's hard," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. He ignored me.

"Just so I have this absolutely clear..." Rafael continued, pacing like a man who thought it made him look powerful. Spoiler alert: it didn't. It made him look like an off-brand detective from a cancelled network procedural.

"Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then, Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the whole town."

"Sounds about right," Stiles said with a shrug.

Rafael turned, arms crossed. "How did you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, 'cause he was an electrical engineer," Stiles replied. "So, where else would he take her?"

"That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

I leaned forward. "Yeah, he's real intuitive. Just wait until you hear how he figured out you were a condescending jerk before you even left your wife and kid."

"Cass," Stilinski said with the weariness of a man who both loved me and needed me to please not start something in the middle of an official investigation.

"Sorry," I said with a totally fake smile. "Just contributing to the discussion."

"What can I say?" Stiles added, smirking. "I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement."

Stilinski cleared his throat but I saw his faint smile. "Stiles, just, uh... just answer the man."

Stiles sighed dramatically. "We made a good guess."

Rafael squinted. "What were the two of you doing?" looking at Scott and Kira

"Eating pizza," Scott said confidently.

"Eating sushi," Kira corrected, sitting a few feet away.

Scott blinked. "...Eating sushi."

Kira blinked back. "...Eating pizza."

They both looked at each other, then said in awkward unison, "Eating sushi and pizza."

Rafael looked at Stilinski, completely unimpressed. "You believe this?"

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak..." the Sheriff replied with a sigh. "But, I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time, and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

Kira gave a small nod. "Yes. That's how I remember it." She paused "Could I get my phone back now?" she asked.

"Sorry, but no," Rafael said, shaking his head like we'd just personally offended federal law. "A deputy is going to take you home, but we need you to fill out some paperwork first."

He turned back to Scott with that fatherly glare that wasn't winning him any points. "Scott... I don't know why you guys are lying, or why Stilinski is content to listen to this crap... But try to remember something-" Oh boy, here it comes.

"If half this story about Barrow is true," he continued, "then not only did someone help set him loose, but he was a pawn in their little game. A mass murderer is bad enough. A mass murderer being controlled by someone? Far worse."

"Yeah, I get it," Scott said firmly.

"All right. Go home. It's a school night," Rafael finished, already heading out of the room.

I stood and stretched dramatically, giving Rafael a fake salute. "Thanks for the lecture, Agent Dad. Real productive." He didn't even turn around. "Ten out of ten bedside manner," I added under my breath as we walked out.

Stiles nudged me. "You're going to give him an aneurysm one day."

I grinned at him. "Only if I'm lucky."

-----☾-----

It was probably the most normal thing we'd done in weeks. No nightmares, no supernatural, no voices in my head. Just a blanket spread out across the hood of the Jeep, a paper bag full of curly fries between us, and the soft hum of music playing from Stiles's phone.

"This is definitely not a five-star restaurant," he said, popping a fry into his mouth, "but I'd like to think the ambiance makes up for it."

"Nothing says romance like the smell of engine grease and waffle fries," I teased, leaning my head against his shoulder.

He tilted his head down, brushing his nose against my hair. "I aim to please."

The sky was dusky, stars just starting to blink through the deep blue. We'd parked at the edge of the preserve, far enough away from town to feel like the world had stopped spinning for a little while.

I picked up a fry and flicked it at him. "So... you planned this? Like, actual planning? With thought and intention?"

"Hey," he said, catching the fry midair, "I'll have you know this took at least fifteen minutes of mental preparation and a solid ten to Google the best fast food for romance."

"Oh wow. Ten whole minutes. You're really raising the bar."

He grinned and leaned in, lips brushing mine gently, then lingering. "Only for you."

I kissed him back, slow and soft, letting the silence between us settle like something sacred.

"Do you ever think about what it'd be like if none of this had happened?" I asked quietly.

"The supernatural stuff?"

I nodded.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But then I think... if none of it happened, we might never have gotten together. And I'd rather take monsters and full moons if it means I get this part, too."

My heart did that fluttery, annoying thing it always did when he said something perfect without even realizing it. I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together.

"You're kind of disgustingly sweet," I said.

"You love it," he smirked.

Before I could fire back, his phone buzzed on the hood of the Jeep. We both groaned at the same time. "Do not answer that," I said, already knowing who it would be.

He picked it up anyway. "It's Scott." Of course it was. He answered, putting it on speaker. "What's up?"

Scott's voice was tense. "We've got a situation. I need you and Cass. Now."

I sighed, already grabbing my jacket.

"Do we at least get to finish our fries?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"No," Scott said. "Eat them on the road." I heard the dial tone and huffed.

Stiles glanced at me, resigned but still managing a crooked smile. "Rain check on normal?"

I kissed his cheek. "We're not built for normal."

-----☾-----

"Okay," Stiles said, spreading three keycards out on the hood of the Jeep like he was dealing blackjack, "this one gets you into all of the perimeter doors... this one into the evidence room... and this one is for my dad's office."

Scott hovered nervously beside him. "You didn't steal these, did you?"

Stiles didn't even blink. "No, I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

I blinked. "Is that... legal?"

"It's smarter," he muttered. "Probably also super illegal, but smarter."

Scott gave a tense nod. "Okay. So what's the plan?"

Stiles pointed toward the side of the building. "You and Kira go in through the service entrance by the dumpster. No one uses it. I'll text you if anyone shows. But listen—if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's already under investigation because of your dad, and if anything goes wrong..." He made a slicing motion with his hand. "I will leave you for dead."

Scott smirked. "Got it. Thanks. Really."

Kira gave me a quick glance as she adjusted her bag. "You coming?"

I looked at her, then at Stiles. He was trying to play it cool, but his leg was bouncing a little too fast. My hand found his.

"I'm staying," I said quietly. "He might need backup too."

Scott hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "Okay. We'll be quick."

"Be safe," I said softly. I watched as they disappeared into the dark, slipping around the back of the station like ghosts. The moment they were out of sight, Stiles let out a sigh that sounded like he'd been holding it for a week.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Fine. Totally calm. I'm great," he said, voice climbing in pitch. "Just helping two friends break into a sheriff's station during a county-wide blackout. Totally chill."

We stood in silence for a few minutes before the rumble of a car showed up. "Oh shit." I huffed, grabbing Stiles' hand and pulling him towards the man.

Stiles reached him first. "Agent McCall," he called, a little too chipper. "Perfect timing."

Agent McCall slowed his stride, already irritated. "Stiles. I thought I told you to go home."

"Yeah, but the thing is," Stiles said, stepping into his path, "we were just talking, and Cass and I had a few thoughts about the whole Barrow situation."

McCall gave him a look like he was debating whether or not to call security. "What kind of thoughts?"

"The kind you should hear," I said, folding my arms beside Stiles. "Unless you're only interested in leads that don't come from high school students with actual working theories."

Stiles shot me a grateful look, then turned back to McCall. "Barrow got his target info from someone at the school. We think they fed it to him intentionally. Now, I know that's already crossed your mind, your condescending smirk says as much, but what if it was someone using the blackout to cover their tracks? Barrow was a pawn. Someone else is playing chess."

McCall's eyes narrowed. "You're suggesting there's someone at the school who helped him commit terrorism."

"Just suggesting it," I said. "But I don't think you're really here for the case."

"Excuse me?"

I stepped forward. "You're not here to help solve anything. You're here to dismantle Sheriff Stilinski's reputation. Everything you've done has been about undermining him."

McCall's jaw twitched. "Your friend's dad obstructed an active investigation. He's under review because of that."

"And you've been waiting for an excuse to come after him," I said calmly. "So now you're twisting the narrative so you can look like the hero."

Stiles stared him down. "But you're not the hero. My dad is. You know it, and I know it. And maybe that's why you're really here. Because he knows something about you. Something you don't want anyone else to know."

McCall looked at him, silent for a long moment. His eyes flicked to me, then back to Stiles.

"Go home," he said, voice quiet and clipped. "There's a curfew. This isn't a game."

Stiles didn't move. "No. It's not. But we're still playing it better than you."

McCall didn't reply. He turned and walked down the steps, disappearing into the dark like he hadn't just been called out by two teenagers.

As soon as he was gone, I let out a slow breath.

Stiles looked over at me. "Okay, that was kind of amazing."

I smiled, a little shaky. "You had him squirming. I just added a little extra sting."

He grinned. "You're scary when you're mad."

"That's why you keep me around."

His phone buzzed, cutting the moment short. "Scott," he muttered, checking the screen. "They're good. We can go home."

-----☾-----

The music was loud, the kind that buzzed in your chest and made everything feel distant and close all at once. Derek's loft had been transformed under blacklights, every face glowing, bodies outlined in streaks of neon paint. It was chaos, the kind of chaos that made you forget things like nightmares and monsters and cold hands on your chest.

Stiles found me near the back wall, already glowing with splattered paint. He smiled, really smiled, and I couldn't help but match it.

"It just showed up there on my key ring this morning," he said as he stepped close, holding up a small, metallic key. "I asked my dad if he put it there, but he said he didn't know anything about it."

I tilted my head. "It's just a key, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not mine," he said, brows furrowed. "And I don't know how it got there, or what it's for."

"You want to leave? Figure it out?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "You know," he said, holding up a paintbrush dipped in glowing blue, "you're looking a little unpainted. That seems like a tragedy."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you're planning to fix it?"

"I am," he said solemnly. "As a public service."

He swiped the paint lightly down my arm, then paused, grinning. "Also, I really wanted an excuse to touch you."

I snorted. "You don't need an excuse, dork." I grabbed the brush and drew a glowing line across his cheek. "There. Now you match."

The song changed, something slower, and we moved closer without even thinking. His hand settled at my waist, mine found his shoulder, and we swayed into each other like gravity had been holding this dance in reserve.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice brushing against my ear.

"I'm better than okay," I murmured. "For the first time in weeks... I feel normal."

A girl bumped into us with a bottle in hand. "Hey, you got a bottle opener?"

Stiles perked up. "Yes! On my keychain!"

She took it, squinting under the blacklight. "Whoa. Your key... look. It's glowing."

We both leaned in. She was right, his key was dusted with glowing residue.

"Those are phosphors," she explained. "Stuff that glows under UV light, like detergent or certain chemicals."

Stiles blinked. "But how would that end up on my key? I haven't been handling anything weird..." His voice trailed off as the gears in his head started turning. "Cass, I... I think I need to check something out. It's probably nothing, but-"

I nodded, already sensing his pull toward the mystery. "Go," I said. "But be careful."

The music had gotten too loud. My head felt foggy. I told myself it was the heat, the crowd, the constant movement.

I climbed the stairs at the far end of the loft, hoping for a break, just a little space to breathe. The upper level was quieter, darker, tucked away from the flashing lights and glow paint below. I leaned against the railing and exhaled.

Then I heard it.

That unmistakable buzz of silence. Not actual silence, a stillness that felt wrong. The air went cold, and my breath came out in a white puff.

I turned slowly. And they were there.

The figures from my dreams.

Three of them, blocking the stairs behind me.

I backed up until my spine hit the wall. My heartbeat pounded so hard it shook in my ears. The closest one stepped forward, blade hilt raised.

"You're not real," I whispered, even though I already knew they were.

My eyes darted toward the edge of the loft. Too high to jump. Nowhere to run.

The Oni pressed the hilt of its blade against my chest.

My body seized. I couldn't scream. Cold laced through every limb like liquid nitrogen. My legs gave out, and the last thing I saw before I hit the ground was the empty black of their masks.

Darkness took me.

-----☾-----

I blinked against the harsh light above, the cold still clinging to my skin like frostbite. My body felt heavy, like I'd been pulled out of a frozen lake. Voices echoed around me, distant, urgent.

"Cassie. Hey. Cass, wake up," someone said, their voice low but pleading. Hands gripped my shoulders, steady and warm.

Scott.

I gasped, breath catching. Scott helped me sit up, his hand bracing my back. I looked around, scanning for the masks. The swords. The darkness. But they were gone, like they'd never been here at all.

The hum of the party was still below, people laughing, dancing, unaware. But up here, it felt like a different world entirely. Allison and Isaac stood behind him, alongside Ethan, Aiden, and Lydia.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked, glancing around like he half-expected them to return.

Isaac's voice came from just behind him, eyes on Allison. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

I stared past them both, forcing my expression into something neutral. Calm. Blank.