Olive was too cold. Her breath plumed in the air, and her body began to shake hard. Her throat closed off as her body juddered wildly, gaping like a fish, trying to suck air back into her lung, leaning forward to grasp at her chest. Tears sprung to her eyes, as her stitches screamed in protest, and she scrambled for her pills, fumbling with the cap.

They clattered to the floor, and she stared at them, wanting to scream, but there was no air left in her lungs. Solomon burst in, and she stared at him, trying to speak, reaching for him. Black spots began to hover in her vision, bursting apart here and there like fireworks. Her father sucked in a large breath, foraging through her cloud of panic to rest hands on her shoulders.

Her eyes were wide, leaking tears, the Alpha's red eyes replacing her father's gray ones very briefly, and she kicked back, taking in a sharp breath, trying to think clearly. Without oxygen, of course, it wasn't the easiest tax, and she tried to focus. Pem's yapping reached her ears, and she latched onto it, reminding herself that she was home; out of the hospital, back in her bed, resting, and tomorrow was school. After 3 weeks of bedridden repair, she'd be back there, pretending that she didn't care.

Solomon had a hand on her shoulder, giving her a little nudge. Her eyes flickered from the door, flinching as she met his eyes, scared that they would be red again, but she was greeted instead by the soft, familiar gray tones. Olive wrapped her arms around her pillow, stuffing her finger into her mouth to chew on the already bitten down nail. It bled as soon as she pulled, the pain sharp enough to make her wince.

Her father drew her hand back, studying her nails, giving a slight shake of his head, seeming disappointed that she was still doing this. She pulled her hand back, tucking it under her chin, annoyed he'd taken this one out route for her growing anxiety. Olive shuffled under her sheets, realizing that in fact, it wasn't too cold like she assumed, and her breath forming in the air had been another figment of her imagination.

"...alright?" she caught from her father, and perked up.

"What?" she asked, tipping her head fast to the side, and her neck gave a little protest.

"Are you alright?"

No. I just got attacked by a large, large wolf with red eyes that are always staring at me, and follow me everywhere I seem to go, she thought, desperate to tell someone about her gradual descent into, what was it, madness? Stiles? No. No need to make him worry.

"I'm okay, maybe," she mumbled, resting back on her bed.

"Would you like another day off?"

She considered him before she answered, "yes."

Solomon nodded, stepping back, and she shifted back from the edge of the bed, her pills in hand.

People stopped and stared at her as she walked in, laptop in front of her lower stomach, gazing at everyone in turn. She felt skittish again, wanting to run and hide, like she should've that night. Her stitches ached, and she wanted to scratch them, but with her lack of nails, that wouldn't be possible.

Lydia pranced up to her, giving her a brilliant smile, dispelling all the other looks for the time being. She started on about how annoying Jackson was, her arm hooked through Olive's. Despite her underlying jealousy, she was thankful that Lydia was talking to her. With Lydia's position on the social ladder, Olive might get rid of her shadow; that shadow being her hospitalized for 3 weeks.

"Would you like to hang out after school?" Lydia asked, a bit too perky, but Olive could handle that.

"Sure, why not?" She gave a little smile to her.

So she hung out with her after school. Technically, none of her music was particularly celebrated, so she sat and listened to mainstream radio, along with 'listening' to Lydia's rise and fall of emotions when she talked about Jackson. Eventually, the girl dismissed it, arranging Olive's waves in front of the mirror happily.

She'd been messing with Olive's look for a while now, coaxing her to bring her to Olive's house, so she could see her walk in closet. Olive insisted it wasn't too great, resisting a little sigh of exhaustion, realizing how not good at hanging out with people in general she was. Her mind blanked when it came to questions, and she wasn't as smart as Lydia in the area of math, so it wasn't as if she could keep up with a discussion on Quantum Physics. Theoretical physics, maybe. She'd read up on the Spatial Vacuum theory in her Freshman year, but that'd been a pipe dream.

Olive stopped fighting Lydia, and allowed her to drive over to her house, chatting about the Formal now. Well, Lydia talked, and Olive made appreciative noises, laughed at jokes, trying to be congenial.

"Do you have a date?"

"No."

"What?!"

Olive shrunk slightly, wondering why it was that surprising. She wasn't that amazing. In fact, she'd been described as bland by Mr. Harris, but then, Mr. Harris was an asshole.

"You know, I have to go with that idiot Stiles just because I made out with Allison's ex."

"They're…"

"Oh yea, they split..., but still; here I am." she rolled her eyes, giving Olive a little smile, which she reputed hesitantly.

She absolutely hated the fact that Lydia got to go with Stiles. But then, she'd missed 3 weeks, so it wasn't as if she was surprised. He'd barely looked at her today, so maybe he'd forgotten about her. Olive plodded next to Lydia, barely listening to her musings on a hot teacher, staring off into the distance. Her stitches hurt.

Olive sat quietly in the bleachers, plucking at the olive colored dress, thinking about how cute and ironic it was, and how no one would appreciate it. She glanced up, casting another look around her. In the bleachers, the odd couple made out; other wise, it was empty, with a few other people moping. On the dance floor, Scott had grabbed onto Danny, interrupting Coach's charge towards him.

She'd give him props for creativity. Her eyes drifted back to Stiles, frowning slightly, wishing he'd...what did she wish? He looked over to her as Lydia left, stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet, before he started over to her, striding up the few steps till he stood in front of her. Stiles took awhile to meet her eyes, because that was just him; he was a skittish guy, and even she hadn't mastered trapping him just to get her to talk to him.

"Do you, like, wanna dance, or, is- I- Never mind, I'm not...even here, okay? Ignore it, like you've been ignoring me."

"I'll dance with you, Stiles," she murmured, trying to bite her nails, but there was really nothing left.

"Okay. um, Olive dress? That's funny. Nice one."

"Yea, no one else noticed it." She cleared her throat slightly as they stood on the fringe of the dance floor. "Um, put your arms around me?"

"Uh, sure, I.." He looked like a he was attempting to do the robot for a second, and she laughed. "Ha fucking ha, I didn't take a fucking dancing class for nothing, bear with me."

unconsciously, she pushed her face into his shoulder, hiding her face from him as she giggled, nerves making it spiral out of control. His arms settled around her, and she tried to move back, thinking that maybe he was awkward, but his hand to her mid-back, pressing her to him again. Olive smiled, circling her arms loosely around his neck.

"I'm sorry you got hurt, I-...shouldn't have asked you for help," he finally murmured.

"I like helping you, Stiles; relatively. And I went with Scott. It's not your fault."

She'd like helping him alot more if he'd get a fucking inkling at how much she liked him. But, like all boys, he seemed to be oblivious.

"Yea, it is. I've been viewing you as...god, I've just been a dick. And you… you're important."

"I am?"

He shifted back, gazing down at her. "Yea. You're my friend." he sounded hesitant at the last word, lips trembling slightly, searching her eyes.

Friend. There was the word. But was he asking for another word, looking at her like this? There was no way Olive could make the first move, if he wanted. They were teenagers. And she was as skittish as he was.

"Yea," she whispered, resting her head back on his chest. "Friends."

He had on a stupid skinny tie, plain button down shirt, and slacks, and he was way too cute. Cute. Even after being ditched by Lydia, and...she was second best again. It wasn't too bad.

"Hey, I...Where's…Look, I need to place a quick call."

He stepped back, caught her hand in his as he walked away. She tried not to let her emotions seep to him, afraid that she'd bring him down, make him sad, make him…. Olive gave a little sniff, quiet enough so he couldn't hear her, staring at the floorboards of the gym. The Gym. Her eyes widened, and her body gave a little tremor, fear seeping out of her body. Were those red eyes, or? And what if-

"Stiles, I-"

He turned towards her just as they stepped out of the doors, frowning even as his phone rung next to his ear, looking at her. She fidgeted, opening her mouth to tell him how scared she was, but JAckson was there.

"Where the hell have you been? Did Lydia ever find you?"

Jackson didn't respond, sighing slightly, brow filmed over with a bit of sweat

" What? What's wrong?"

"I - I was out behind the school, and I - I was - out - " he stammered, seeming to be slightly unstable.

"What happened? Jackson. What did you do?"

"I just- Scott he- I told them- You know, I don't-" Jackson mustered up whatever seemed to be left of him, stabbing at his chest. "I used to be the best, you know? Because I deserved it; I prove it every single day; hottest girlfriend, hottest car. And then you two losers interrupt me. Scott NEVER worked. Not really. And suddenly he's good at Lacrosse?! No. No, see," He flattened his palm, bringing it around in a circle. "Something is going on. So I told them. I told...I told- And they… You know take care of him. They said they weren't going to hurt him."

"And where's Lydia?" Olive asked.

"I dunno," Jackson gave a shrug. "I think I saw her...heading towards the LAcrosse field? PRobably thought I was there. I-"

Stiles was already running down the hall, shoving kids to the side, his progress marked by shouts, and lockers clattering. Olive sprinted after him, calling his name, the crowd splitting in front of her on a whim that they liked the lockers. He burst out of the school, looking frantically about before he pinpointed the Lacrosse Fields, picking up speed as he hurtled across the grass, screaming Lydia's name.

The lights were on, why were the lights on?

She ran faster, shouting his name in turn, careening towards the hunched figure, wondering who that was, but…. Why wasn't she alone? Everyone was inside, who was this guy?

Stiles skidded as he hit the grass, stopping close to the two people. She did the same a few seconds later, chest heaving for lost air, wanting to collapse, but then the man crouched over lydia had blood around his mouth. And it was Lydia's, by the shape of her.

"Don't kill her. Please."

The man frowned, look turning a to an almost simpering one as he looked down at Lydia. He gestured to the prone girl with a hand, face a foot or so from Stiles and hers.

"Of course not, I could never refuse a Salem Witch," a short chuckle. " Just tell me how to find Derek."

" W - what?" Stiles stammered.

The man dropped an elongated nail to Lydia's hair line, tracing along her face, as he said slowly, "Tell me how to find Derek Hale."

"I don't know that. How would I know that?"

"Because you're the clever one, aren't you? And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth - Or I will rip her apart. Rip them both apart maybe," he looked to Olive, fangs showing briefly. "You can't do anything. Your magic is so sad, compared to his. Do you wish he could be better? I can smell that on you."

"Look - Look, I don't know, okay? Lay off. I sw - I swear to god, I have no idea."

"Tell me!" he roared, and Olive flinched.

"Okay, okay, okay, look, I - I think he knew -"

"Knew what?"

"Derek, I think he - I think he knew he was gonna be caught."

"By the Argents?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"When they were shot, he and Scott - I think he took Scott's Phone."

"Why?"

"They all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if it's still on - you can find him."

The man stood up, pulling a napkin out, and dabbing it at his lips. Olive felt Stiles's panic, overwhelming his thought process.

"Alright, let's go, clever one."

" No - I'm not just letting you leave her here."

The man considered him, then moved, too quickly for Olive to track, his arm looping tight around her neck. She struggled breifly, breath beginning to rattle in and out of her lungs, panicking, knowing that this man was the reason her stitches were splitting. Blood bloomed on her dress, and she stopped, forcing in to support her as she danced with unconsciousness, panic and blood loss affecting her, along with the restriction of her air flow.

"You don't have a choice, Stiles. You're coming with me," Peter said simply.

"Just kill me. Look, I don't care anymore, just let her go, and I can't- Please!"

The werewolf pressed his claw under Stiles's chin, making him rise to his feet, almost standing taller than Olive now.

"Call your friend. Tell Jackson where she is. That's all you get. And just think about this little witch when you even think of lashing out."

He dragged her with him as Stiles placed his call. She was shoved into his jeep, a hand around her neck used to steer her where the man wanted. Olive sat and practically bleed out in his lap, fairly uncomfortable with her position. She was fairly sure she passed out when Stiles finally made it to the jeep, waking up with insistence from the dude in the trenchcoat in a parking block.

Stiles briefly was in front of her, arguing with the man, "Let me have her."

"So you can blast me with some kind of magic?" He gave a snort. "I don't think so, Stiles."

Olive was yanked and dragged along by the back of her dress. She didn't have a jacket, and it was fairly cold right now. On top of blood beginning to trickle down her leg, she was cold.

"Who's car is this?" Stiles asked as they came to a stop in front of one.

"It belonged to my nurse," he answered smoothly.

The man popped the trunk of his car, and she passed out briefly again, woozy already, the shock of a dead body sending her over the edge.

"Useless," the man sighed when she woke up. "Remind me not to hold you hostage again. As I was saying Stiles;" he gestured to her. "I'm sure I can persuade you

She gave a little whimper, looking to Stiles, standing in front of a laptop, hand shaking slightly as she raised it to press it to her now completely wet bodice. Peter gripped her shoulder, glancing to Stiles.

"What if I give her a little shake? How much blood can she lose until she finally crashes?"

"I'm typing!"

Her world dimmed again, eyelashes fluttering against her cheekbones, trying to keep her eyes open, feeling sweaty and weak. She attempted to croak his name, all their words garbled and distorted, muffled almost. Stiles had her next, and she felt his hands on her distantly, as if she was far away from herself. He was repeating her name, hands warm on her cold, damp face.

"So sorry," she whispered, head lolling against the suddenly present chest.. "'sss-stupid. Shouldn't have come with you. Shouldn't be here."

"You know I'm carrying you all the way to the hospital, right?" his chest shook in a strangled laugh. "How about a thank you?"

"Thank you," she said clearly, bringing shifting to bring his face into view, world sharp and clear right now.

"It was a joke...I owe you like, 10 times over."

And why was she helping him? Why had she even run over to him? She didn't mind being second place, so it wasn't as if that was going to stop her. She'd gone to him because he needed help.

"Love you so much," she managed, world losing all clarity.

As as friend, as an old child hood friend who she'd thought she'd be able to use, but no, she didn't have the heart to do it. Olive was sorry. She shouldn't have convinced her father to bring her back, and she shouldn't have …done so many things. She loved him as something more too, but again, she didn't have the heart to elaborate, make that real. Just weak hearted; rabbit hearted.

He held her tighter, making her feel precious for once, like gold. Stiles always did; a Midas touch, maybe.

Olive woke up in another hospital bed, gazing forlornly up at the ceiling, consigning herself to be the one person tossed around in this new, intensely shitty world she was experiencing. Stiles sat in the corner, in different clothes than he'd worn that night, so she assumed this was an entirely new day.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi."

"Me and you? We're the same blood-type, you know?"

"Oh."

"Yup."

"Um, I-" she said, as he started to say the same thing.

"You go first," Stiles mumbled.

"No, no, you."

"Look, Olive, I just want you to stay away from me, maybe? People keep," he gestured off to the side, cutting himself off. "Kate Argent just died."

She perked up. "Died?"

"Yea, just ripped apart. I.." he closed his eyes. "Fuck, you always get hurt with me. I'm supposed to protect you."

"No, I'm supposed to protect you, make you better."

"I'm better with you, I am. But I also kind of need you to not be in the hospital for weeks on end, and used as bait."

Kate Argent was dead. That's what mattered right now. Olive wanted to see her body, and originally, had wanted to be the one to cause it, but with all of her now present nervousness, that was out of the question. She was so jittery, she could hardly stand needles.

"Is he dead?"

"Peter Hale?"

"Yes."

"Dead. Went up in a ball of flame."

"Good Riddance to both."

"Kate Argent?"

"Killed Milo."

"Oh...Oh, okay. Are you done with the vengeance steak?"

"Sure."

"Good," he stepped up to her bed, tapping his finger on the guardrail. "Because you're much cuter when you're being nice."

"You think I'm cute?"

"No not really."

She gave a little squeak, glaring at him.

"I think you're super cute," he gave her a tiny smile, pink blooming over his cheeks.

"Super duper cute?" her voice trembled slightly, really not good at his, particularly.

But Stiles laughed, cheeks reddening even more, as he nodded. "Yea, definitely. Ah, I'm gonna go, so-" He careened into the door, looking sheepishly back at her. "Good thing I'm in a hospital."

"Yea. Too bad you're a bit of a noddle."

Stiles gave a little snort of amusement. "A noddle?"

"Sounds better than dumbass."

"I really like it when you're sarcastic and mean to me, rather than in the library, staying far away from me."

"Should I pick up the former?"

"Dude, yea," he stuffed his hands into his pocket, edging around the door. "I'll see you, Halina. After you get out?"

"Maybe."

"See, we go to the same school, so you can't avoid me." Stiles gave her a messed up wink, blinking both of his eyes on accident. He made a little noise of annoyance, and disappeared.

She smiled down at her hands. As an afterthought, she gave a little fist pump. Yea.