Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sam and Dean approached the single deputy who was stationed at the entrance to the preserve’s main trails. He was a young man, probably new to the force, who had an air of superiority about him. He seemed the type to enjoy what little power he had, turning joggers and curious teenagers away from the trails.

“Sorry, guys, trails are closed until further notice,” the deputy said. “There is an ongoing murder investigation.”

“Actually, Deputy,” Sam paused as he and Dean displayed their fraudulent FBI credentials, “that’s why we’re here.”

“Agents Moore and Gray, we’re here to look at the crime scene,” Dean said.

The smug look melted off the deputy’s face. “Of course, agents, I’ll show you the way.” He said this like it caused him physical pain, but he showed Sam and Dean to the crime scene nonetheless.

The crime scene itself was about as well-kept as the elements would allow. The absence of the body, while expected, limited the remaining evidence: blood, which had mostly been washed away by the stream, and footprints. At least it hadn’t rained.

“This is it.” Deputy Dewitt – he had introduced himself to the two 'agents' on the way to the scene – gestured to the taped-off area surrounding the bridge. “I should be getting back to my post, wouldn’t want to leave the preserve unguarded.”

“Uh-huh, sure wouldn’t,” Dean said.

If Deputy Dewitt recognized the sarcasm in his voice, he didn’t say anything. He simply made his way back down the path, leaving Sam and Dean to examine the crime scene.

“Did you find anything on Tara Raeken?” Dean asked once Deputy Dewitt was out of earshot.

“Nah, no cell service. Any research is gonna have to wait until we get to a motel,” Sam said.

Dean nodded as he moved toward the north side of the bridge. “No cell service, secluded area of the woods, no houses around for miles—the killer picked a good spot if they didn’t want to be seen.”

“Right,” Sam agreed. He walked over the bridge and knelt next to the scratch marks embedded into the wood, tracing over them with his own hands. “He was alive when he was dragged over the bridge. There are scratch marks in the wood from his nails—he was trying to hold on."

"The coroner's report did say something about defensive wounds on the body," Dean said.

“I still don't understand the placement of the body,” Sam stated. The kinds of creatures the Winchesters were used to hunting would not leave their prey behind. A majority of the monsters they'd come across fed on the people they killed. And the victims who weren't eaten were the ones who were possessed.

"Something like a vampire or a wendigo would have taken the body, and if it was a demon, there would be clear signs—sulfur, something," Dean summed up Sam's thoughts.

Sam considered this for a moment. “A human serial killer might move the body to destroy evidence," he said. "Waterlogged bodies are harder to get evidence off of. Any fingerprints, DNA, or clothing fibers would have been washed away.”

Dean shook his head. "Fingerprints don't last too long on a decaying body, and a disorganized killer like this wouldn't care anyway. They leave the body where they killed them."

"So, we're not looking for a human then," Sam said, a hint of relief in his voice. Maybe it was the years of hunting warping his way of thinking, but he found monstrous killings to be somewhat normal—expected, unavoidable. A rougarou cursed to crave and feed on the flesh and blood of humans was one thing, but a person who resorted to cannibalism simply because they enjoyed it? That was truly disturbing.

“Ripping a person’s heart out with your bare hands— that’s vengeful. There’s hatred and aggression motivating you,” Dean said as he surveyed the stream where Evan's body was found. “Whatever we’re looking for, it's gotta be smart, strong, and revenge-motivated. Human-like thinking, but not necessarily human.”

Sam walked through the grass beside the path, glancing over the trail that held the last steps Evan Reed ever took. The prints were deep and got more spread out the closer you got to the bridge. These were the footprints of someone running, and the farther apart the prints got, the faster Evan ran for his life. As Sam studied the prints, something struck him as odd—the killer's footprints were nowhere to be seen.

“Dean, there’s only one set of footprints,” Sam said. The trail leading up to the south side of the bridge had been taped off to ensure Evan Reed's footprints wouldn’t be trampled over by deputies, but there should still be two sets of prints—Evan’s and his killer’s. Sam and Dean both stared down at the trail, at the solitary set of prints that had already been positively identified as the victim’s.

“A revenge-driven killer who doesn’t leave any footprints,” Sam said.

“Vengeful spirit,” Dean concluded. “Okay, so now we just gotta find out whose spirit is out here killing teenagers and where their bones are.”

The car ride from the Beacon Hills preserve to the nearest motel—the Moon Beam Inn, apparently—was relatively quick. The Moon Beam Inn had a little café adjacent to the lobby and was altogether much nicer than the motels the Winchester boys typically stayed in. The room smelled vaguely of peach and nutmeg, and the sheets had not even a single cigarette burn on them. This was a considerable upgrade from the tattered sheets of the Pine-Wood Motel and its room that smelled like smoke and cheap liquor.

Sam wasted no time as they entered their temporary quarters. He settled in at the small desk and began clicking away on his laptop. Dean dropped his duffle bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door—old habits die hard. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Dean started disassembling his white-handled Colt.

Sam suspected that Dean field-stripping his gun was a nervous tic—something he picked up hunting with John while Sam was away at Stanford. Though Sam would never mention this theory to his brother. In fact, the only person to ever call Dean out on this habit was Cas.

“You're cleaning your gun again,” Cas had said matter-of-factly; more a statement of the obvious, really. Dean paused, tipping the barrel toward the floor. “It helps me think,” he said.

When Cas continued to stare at him, Dean put the gun down to look the angel in the eye. “Something interesting?” Dean asked.

Cas tilted his head slightly to the side. “I always find you interesting, Dean,” he said, and there was that matter-of-fact tone again, as if Dean should have already known this.

Dean could only manage a simple, "Oh," in return.

“Vengeful spirits typically go after the people who killed them, but other than the physical description, there's nothing linking the three victims,” Dean said, thinking aloud.

Ghosts most often haunt the places where they lived or died; considering that they were dealing with a vengeful spirit, Dean was safe to assume this ghost was haunting the place they died. "What are the odds Tara Raeken suffered a violent death?" Dean asked.

“Pretty good odds,” Sam said, turning around in his seat.

“Tara Raeken died when she was eleven. She broke her leg and fell into the stream in the preserve. It was the coldest night of the year, and she died of exposure.”

“Exposure? Not exactly violent,” Dean mused. Tara's death at such a young age was, of course, a tragedy, but not exactly the kind of death that would motivate a vengeful spirit.

“That’s the public record—the story that got published in the paper,” Sam said. “I hacked into the hospital's database and went through the morgue's records. Tara’s autopsy report says her heart was missing when the body was discovered. Her wounds match the current victims'.”

“So, Tara is one seriously pissed-off ghost, and she’s out for revenge,” Dean said. “What’s her connection to her victims?”

“Nothing,” Sam said. “Well, no direct connection anyway. But you were right about the sheriff hiding something. Tara Raeken wasn’t an only child. She has a brother.”

Dean paused mid-motion as he was removing the empty magazine from his gun. "A brother?" he asked.

"Yeah, Theo Raeken, Tara's younger brother," Sam replied. "According to this, he'd be about seventeen, maybe eighteen now."

"Same age as the victims," Dean said, his weapon now sitting completely forgotten at his side. "So maybe Tara is going after kids who look like her brother? Did Theo leave town with his parents?"

"There isn't much about this kid online, no public records other than his birth certificate," Sam sighed. The upgraded, and somewhat illegal, software Charlie had installed on Sam’s laptop could get into almost anything with enough time. However, non-existent files couldn’t exactly be accessed, even with the most sophisticated programs.

"What about schools? Can we find out if he’s enrolled anywhere?" Dean asked.

"It might take a while," Sam said. Going through the enrolment lists of all the schools in Beacon Hills would certainly take longer than simply looking up a birth record, and time was not something the Winchesters could afford in their line of work. Spending too long away from the hunt usually led to more bodies.

Dean returned to methodically cleaning his Colt. Sam could hear the familiar scrape and click of metal against metal as Dean reattached the barrel and reloaded the magazine.

"I’ll start with schools in the area. Theo probably went to school in this county, and the school might have transfer paperwork from when the family moved," Sam added.

"Sounds good," Dean said. With his gun reassembled and safely stashed under his pillow, Dean decided to take out his laptop and assist Sam in his research.

When Cas was gone, Dean had begun sleeping with a gun under his pillow again—something he hadn’t done in years. Before meeting Cas, Dean always had a weapon under his pillow; he could hear his father’s voice in his head, ‘you can never let your guard down.’ But Hell had changed a lot of things for the older Winchester, including his need to be armed as he slept.

Dean wasn’t exactly sure when his alliance of convenience with Castiel turned into friendship and genuine trust. But somewhere between being gripped tight and raised from perdition, and Castiel’s rebellion against Heaven, Dean realized that angels really were watching over him. Well, perhaps not angels plural, but his angel was watching over him, and that was all Dean needed.

Now, even with Cas back, it was like Dean couldn’t sleep without his gun. The nagging voice in his head would tell him he needed to watch out for himself, that Cas wouldn't be there with a soft expression and a gentle ‘I'll watch over you.’

For a moment, Dean considered calling Cas to join him and Sam on the hunt. But the overwhelming sense of guilt he felt at the thought of such a selfish decision quickly talked him out of it. Jack needed Cas right now, and Dean wouldn’t allow himself to put his own needs above the kid’s.

"Hey, uh, you think maybe we should loop Cas in on this?" Sam asked.

Dean had wondered on more than one occasion if Sam still had psychic abilities. How else could he guess at Dean’s thoughts with such ease? Brotherly intuition and close quarters could only account for so much.

"A salt and burn doesn't really need angel mojo," Dean said, trying not to let too much tension seep into his voice.

Sam stayed quiet. It was obvious Dean was still struggling, but Sam couldn't force him to talk, as much as he may want to. After a moment, Dean sighed and said, "If things get complicated, I'll call him."

Sam nodded, silently deliberating how to proceed. "Have you talked to him at all, about what happened?" he asked gently.

"Cas is fine. Things are good. What’s there to talk about?" Dean replied gruffly. His nerves spiked, and he suddenly craved a drink—not hard liquor, just a beer, something that would make this conversation easier. Sam was right, though, and Dean knew that. Seeing Cas die like that broke Dean. The hopelessness and depression that overcame Dean in the weeks after the funeral was something he never thought he would recover from. Cas was brought back, and Dean still hadn’t fully recovered. He still felt broken.

Dean knew he had to talk to Cas. He had to tell him how he felt, but the thought of losing Cas again was too much.

"Dean," Sam said gently.

"I know," Dean conceded with a sigh. Sam must have been satisfied with that answer because he didn’t press any further.

Dean was grateful when they lapsed into a comfortable silence, too busy looking for traces of Theo Raeken online to speak. Within a couple of hours, Sam had found something: an enrollment record, and proof that the Sheriff was lying.

"Theo Raeken is enrolled at Beacon Hills Public High School," Sam said. "He's still in town."

"I knew that Sheriff was sketchy. He didn't even flinch when we mentioned the cause of death," Dean said. "Even sheriffs can't be that desensitized to violence; it's not human nature."

Sam mumbled an agreement. Even in all his years of hunting, the things they’d seen and the deaths they couldn’t prevent kept him up at night. "Question is, why did he lie?" Sam asked.

"I don’t know, but we gotta find out," Dean said. "Tomorrow morning, you go to the school and talk to the kid. I’ll reconvene with Sheriff Sketchy."

Sam stood and stretched. "I’m gonna turn in for the night," he said as he made his way toward the bathroom. It was rare the Winchesters had the option to turn in early, so Sam was going to take the opportunity while he had it.

"Okay, I’m gonna grab something from the vending machine. You want anything?" Dean asked.

"Water. Thanks," Sam said as Dean shut the door behind him.

The cool night air was refreshing, but it did little to settle Dean's nerves. He was tense and itching for a drink. He craved something that would quiet the noise in his head. Dean reached for the car keys in his pocket, mind drifting to the bar they had passed on the way here.

‘No,’ he decided after some deliberation. Not only had he promised Sam and Cas, Dean also promised himself he could do this. He had to be better for Jack; had to be better than John was. With a rattling breath, Dean let go of the keys; Coca-Cola would have to do.

He made his way through the mostly empty parking lot. With the exception of Baby, there were only three other cars in the lot. The vending machine was in front of the doors to the lobby, a short distance from the Winchesters' room but far enough to ensure Sam couldn't hear him.

"Castiel," Dean said. To any onlookers, which thankfully there were none, it would look as though Dean were having a conversation with a Snickers bar behind the glass of the vending machine.

"Cas, I don’t know if you have your ears on, but, uh, I just wanted to check in. Sam and I are in California hunting a ghost. I'll let you know if things get complicated."

Dean paused, searching for something else to say. He swiftly purchased his coke and the water for Sam before continuing. “Hopefully you and Jack are doing ok.”

With another deep breath, Dean decided that that was enough vulnerability for one night. He was about to make his way back to the room when the light bulb in the street lamp above him suddenly burst. Sparks created a flickering halo of light, and shattered glass rained down over the pavement around him. Dean stared at the now broken lamp and was reminded of the night in the barn where he first met Cas.

A small smile crept its way onto Dean's face, “Goodnight Cas,” he said quietly.

The itching sensation under Dean's skin had mostly subsided by the time he was getting in bed. Dean reached under his pillow and removed his gun, considering it for a moment before laying it on the nightstand. Still within arms-reach, but a small improvement nonetheless. For once, Dean's head was quiet. There was no nagging voice keeping him up that night. For once, Dean slept peacefully.

Psychopathy is defined as a neuropsychiatric disorder discernible by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, and poor behavioral controls. There are several warning signs of psychopathic behavior in children, for instance, harming or killing animals for sport or excitement. Additionally, older children and teenagers who exhibit psychopathic behavior may engage in harming or killing animals for sexual gratification.

Theo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the words he was reading. It was like they were burned into the inside of his eyelids, taunting him, reminding him: This is what they thought of you, this is what they wanted you to be. A wave of nausea washed over Theo, he tried to shut his eyes tighter, but the darkness of his mind did nothing to prevent the bile from rising in his throat.

In that moment it was like every awful thing Theo had ever done came crashing over him. He could feel the blood dripping off his hands, he could hear the lies he told, and see the people he hurt. Theo knew he had done horrible things, but they were never for pleasure, they were a necessity. A way for him to survive, Right?

Theo tried to regain control; filtering through the noise around him until he zeroed in on Liam’s heartbeat a few classrooms down. Liam was in biology right now, his least favorite class, but his heartbeat was slow and calm. A sure sign of his boredom. Liam’s heartbeat typically had a slight uptick in his classes, history especially, which gave away his fondness for the subject.

The steady thump of Liam’s heart was enough to prevent Theo from being sick in the middle of Econ, a small victory, but those words were still gnawing away at his insides. Killer. Monster. Psychopath.

“Theo Raeken!” Coach Finstock’s ear-shattering voice caught Theo’s attention. He would have welcomed whatever declaration the Coach was about to make, as it would certainly make quite the distraction from Theo’s thoughts. But with the Coach looming over Theo’s desk there was no hiding the book he had been reading: An Analysis of Psychopaths and Their Behaviour.

The Coach sighed, a labored exhale leaden with either disappointment or distress. “If I was given a dollar every time a student of mine did something so profoundly disturbing,” Coach said picking up Theo’s book and skimming the paragraph Theo just read, “I would be able to quit teaching.”

The coach dropped the book unceremoniously back onto Theo’s desk, “It’s for an assignment,” he lied.

“For this class?” Coach asked.

Being a chimera made Theo adept at reading people; his heightened senses and ability to identify chemo-signals made it easy. However, Coach Finstock was always somewhat of an enigma; even to Theo. The man often said absolutely ridiculous things with complete seriousness and not even a flutter in his heartbeat. Try as he might, Theo couldn’t tell if Coach was genuinely asking him if a psychology assignment, was for his economics class.

“No,” Theo answered.

“Well then I don’t care,” Coach retorted quickly. “You were called to Principal Martin's office, so, you’re excused from class.”

Theo looked at the Coach with momentary confusion, but he began gathering his things all the same. Whatever reason Principal Martin had for excusing Theo from class, the boy decided it could not be good.

.......

Sam Winchester entered the scarcely decorated office of Principal Martin with calm and ease; replicating the confidence he would expect of a true FBI agent.

“Good morning, Mrs. Martin,” Sam said. He removed the fake badge from his pocket and held it up for the principal to inspect. “I’m Agent Gray, I’d like to speak to one of your students.”

Principal Martin adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and leaned forward to get a better look at Sam’s credentials. The woman eventually sat back in her chair, her mouth pulled into a tight frown. “Who is it you’d like to speak to?”

“Theo Raeken,” Sam noted the woman flinch, ever so slightly, at Theo’s name. But the barely there reaction was quickly covered by practiced composure as Principal Martin had Theo excused from class.

“He’ll be here shortly,” She said, voice devoid of emotion.

“Thank you,” Sam said, “Is there somewhere I could speak to him in private.”

“The guidance counselor’s office, down the hall,” Mrs. Martin said. She held strong, keeping emotion out of her face and voice, but Sam observed the almost nervous way Mrs. Martin toyed with her auburn hair.

Sam left Principal Martin in her office and set off to the guidance counselor's office. The office in question looked like it had been vacant for months. There was a thick layer of dust lining the shelves, papers were left scattered across the desk, and the white boards still bore dozens of notes and drawings.

One note in particular, jumped out at Sam from its spot on the whiteboard. “Know thy enemy,” Sam read aloud.

"Sun Tzu," a voice said, "It's from Art of War; know thy enemy as thyself."

Sam turned on his heel and was met with a boy who must be Theo. This boy's brown hair and green eyes matched the description of the boys who had been murdered, all the more reason to believe he was connected.

“Theo, I’m Agent Gray, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Sam said.

Theo said nothing, he simply looked Sam up and down as if he were trying to read him; like he was scanning him for information. When the boy apprehensively took a seat at the desk, Sam decided to continue.

"Theo, I’m here investigating the recent murders,” Sam explained. "Did you know any of the victims?"

Theo brushed past the agent's statement of the obvious and focused on his answer to the man’s question. "I didn’t know them personally, but they went to school here," Theo began. "One kid, Evan, he was on the lacrosse team, with a friend of mine."

"Ok, I was also informed that your sister, Tara, died in the preserve," Sam said gently. “Do you visit the preserve often?”

Theo's eyes became misty as he shook his head. “No not really, only on her anniversary.”

Sam took a seat across from Theo at the desk, the boy in front of him looked distraught at the mention of his sister, but also slightly confused.

"How old were you when your sister died?" Sam asked.

Theo took a shaking breath, "nine." He sounded choked up, like his voice was getting caught in his throat.

Interviewing kids was always a difficult task for the Winchester boys. Sam hated seeing innocent lives corrupted in the same way his and Deans were. But these questions were a necessary poison if Sam and Dean hoped to save lives.

"And when you go to the preserve, have you ever noticed anything, unusual?” Sam pressed. “Cold spots or strange sounds?”

“It’s always cold when I visit the preserve,” Theo said despondently, eyes welling up with tears.

Sam studied Theo dejectedly and steadied himself to ask the most difficult question, "Did you know that your sister was found with her heart ripped out?"

Theo's mouth hung open in shock, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. "What?" he finally said, though his voice sounded much higher than before.

Sam grit his teeth but continued, "When Tara's body was found, her heart was missing. She didn't die from exposure."

"She... you're saying she was murdered?" Theo asked, tears rolling down his cheeks. His wide green eyes shone with tears as he looked up at Sam, pure despair on his face, silently begging for it not to be true. Theo brought one hand up to wipe the tears away, before asking "Do you think it's the same person now?"

"It could be," Sam replied smoothly. "I don't want to scare you, but you do match the description of all three victims, and I wanted to be sure you aren’t connected.”

“C-connected?” Theo asked, his voice shaking nearly as much as his hands.

Sam sighed, he really did hate his job sometimes, “I want to make sure the killer isn’t targeting you.”

"I just, I thought it was an accident, I didn't think," Theo's voice caught in his throat once more and Sam decided he was done torturing the poor boy. Theo was no doubt overwhelmed by both the possibility of being targeted by a serial killer, and the horrible revelation about his sister’s death.

"Theo, I'm gonna leave you my card. If you think of anything that may be relevant to the case, anything at all, let me know," Sam said sliding a business card across the desk.
Theo nodded mutely, wiping at his tears again. "Can I go now?" he asked meekly.

"Of course," Sam said. He watched the young boy leave the guidance counselor's office, and wished, not for the first time, that monsters were not real.

.......

When Theo left Monroe’s old office, he was not at all shocked to see Liam waiting for him in the hall. Liam looked worried, he had obviously been listening to Theo’s conversation with Agent Gray, but had most likely neglected to read his chemo-signals. Like flipping a switch, Theo's tears stopped and he schooled his frightened expression into his usual unbothered disinterest.

"How do people keep falling for that act?" Liam asked, both impressed and disturbed by Theo's acting abilities.

'You did," Theo replied with a smug grin. He began walking down the hall towards his locker, Liam falling into step beside him. “You have to start sensing people’s emotions Little Wolf,” Theo said.

Liam rolled his eyes in annoyance at both the nickname and the fact that he had once again fallen for Theo’s crocodile tears. “Whatever, what did the FBI want?”

Theo just gave Liam a look, the 'don't pretend you weren't listening' was implied.

With another dramatic roll of his eyes, Liam said, "They think the murders have something to do with Tara."

Theo nodded, “We need to go to the preserve. Tonight.”

Theo was there again. He felt claustrophobic lying there, trapped in a small steel coffin. Theo was back in the mortuary freezer. He tried to breathe, but he felt as if his lungs were collapsing in on themselves; he had to get out of there.

Theo kicked open the small metal door and scrambled toward freedom. Crumbling to his knees, Theo tried to take a deep breath. It was no use; the panic had set in, and there was no stopping it.

Theo stood up slowly and braced himself. He had to keep moving; standing here would only make things worse. But he couldn't get his legs to move.

Theo. Theooooo.

The spectral voice echoed through the empty hospital halls. Tara knew he was here, and she was getting closer. Theo took a shaking step forward and willed himself not to run. There wouldn't be a point. He'd tried running, he'd tried hiding, he'd tried staying in that awful freezer drawer, but nothing worked. Tara always found him. After the hundredth time Theo woke up in the morgue, he lost the will to fight. There was no point.

Theooo.

Theo forced his trembling limbs to carry him out of the morgue and into the dim hallway. He could feel her presence even though he couldn't see her. A chill danced down his spine. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones; it made Theo feel like he'd never be warm again. When he saw his breath in front of him, small white puffs of air, he knew Tara was behind him. Slowly, Theo turned to face her. He shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her mangled body, though the image would never truly be purged from his mind.

He wanted to say something. Apologize maybe. But Theo couldn't find the words, and perhaps there were none. Nothing would ever change what he did to her.

Tara was suddenly reaching for him, shoving him to the ground. Her frigid hands ripped through Theo's flesh, peeling away his skin with her nails. Theo couldn't even find it in himself to cry out in pain. "I deserve this," He thought. Theo did nothing as his sister broke his ribs and wrenched her heart back out of his chest.

.......

Theo awoke with a gasp. He bolted upright, muscles tense and ridged, breathing erratically and clutching at his chest. Theo held his palm against his heartbeat protectively, as if it would disappear if he let go. His throat felt raw; it was dry and sore. He had been screaming.

Begrudgingly, Theo dragged his hands away from his heart. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He needed to pick Liam up; they were supposed to go to the preserve at midnight. Theo quickly pulled on his hoodie and climbed into the front seat of his truck. He put it into gear and started the familiar route to Liam's house.

Nights like this made Theo wish he had taken Liam up on his offer of a spare bedroom. When Liam had first offered Theo the spare bedroom at his house, Theo was stunned. He had expected the McCall Pack, Liam included, to forget about him once he'd exhausted his usefulness. It became abundantly clear that Liam had no such intentions; Liam was determined to befriend Theo. Theo had turned down Liam's offer, not wanting to burden the boy and his family. Liam responded by climbing into the back seat of Theo's truck and refusing to leave until Theo agreed to stay with him.

Liam's stubborn protest to Theo sleeping in his truck earned him one small victory since Theo agreed to stay with him for one night. However, when Theo snuck out the window that night, Liam realized this was not a battle he would win.

When Theo arrived in the Dunbar-Geyer's driveway, he could hear Liam talking to someone, probably Mason, on the phone.

.......

“Do I need to remind you that there is a town-wide curfew,” Mason said in exasperation.

“So?” Liam replied, balancing his cell phone between his ear and shoulder. He could practically hear Mason pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“So, you would be stupid to go out into the woods. What if you get caught?” Mason said. If Mason started getting grey hair before age 20, he knew Liam would be to blame.

“Then we tell the Sheriff what we were doing, we get a slap on the wrist, and we go home,” Liam continued rummaging through his drawers.

“Liam, a murderer is lurking in the woods! The Sheriff is the least of your worries,” Mason said.

“Mason, why do you think we’re going to the preserve? To catch Tara,” Liam sighed exasperated. This was not the first reckless thing he had done, and Liam was sure it would not be the last.

“At the risk of Theo ripping my throat out, you don’t know that it’s Tara,” Mason sighed.

Liam was growing tired of everyone's skepticism towards this case. He could barely handle Scott and Stiles dodging his calls and ignoring his messages; he didn’t need Mason doubting him too.

“Well, then we’re going to rule her out,” Liam said placatingly.

“You know what, why do I even try? Don’t die please,” Mason resigned. He could voice his concerns all he wanted; Liam would still do whatever he wanted.

“I won't die. With me gone who’ll annoy you for the rest of your life?” Liam laughed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mason chuckled. “And don’t let Theo do anything stupid either.”

“Oh my god, was that genuine concern for Theo?” Liam gasped exaggeratedly.

“I’m hanging up now,” Mason said as he did just that. Liam returned his cell phone to his pocket and continued to upturn his bedroom. He had gone through his entire dresser, closet, and even under his bed, but he could not find a flashlight.

“Liam, what the hell are you doing?” Theo asked as he ducked through the bedroom window.

“I can’t find my flashlight. I know it’s up here somewhere; me and Mason used to build blanket forts and pretend we were camping,”

“Cute,” Theo smiled. “But we don’t need a flashlight.”

Liam pulled his head out from under his bed to look Theo in the eye, “it's dark outside.”

Theo rolled his eyes before flashing them a bright gold, “We can see in the dark, idiot.”

A light pink flush coloured Liam’s cheeks, “Oh yeah.”

Theo smiled, “We should go; if you make any more noise, you’ll wake up your parents.”

"Shut up," Liam mumbled, following Theo back out the window.

The drive to the preserve was silent. An awkward, tense kind of silence that Liam wasn’t used to having with Theo. Neither boy wanted to mention the elephant in the room, but it had to be done.

“Do we have a plan?” Liam asked, “For when we find Tara.”

Theo's gaze didn’t move from the road, “We kill her," he said. "She won't stop unless we do.”

“Ok,” Liam said. There was no hesitation in his voice, just simple acceptance.

Theo snapped his head towards Liam. Scott McCall refused to kill, and his pack followed his example. So, Theo assumed Liam would be against his plan. Liam met his gaze but said nothing; he trusted Theo, and trust was something Theo was not used to having. Though he supposed he trusted Liam as well. Theo trusted Liam enough to give himself up to the Wild Hunt and risk his life against the hunters. But beyond trust in battle, Theo trusted Liam enough to be vulnerable. He trusted that Liam would never tell his parents about Theo's living situation, as much as he may want to, because it would be a betrayal. Theo knew Liam was fiercely loyal, he supposed he would just have to get used to the feeling of that loyalty applying to him.

Miles past in silence. But it was not the same silence as earlier. It was a companionable silence between two people who understood each other completely, perhaps the only people in the world who could understand the other completely.

........

Theo pulled into the small lot in front of the preserve and parked the truck. It was after midnight now, and the preserve was dark. Theo's ability to see in the dark didn’t bring him much comfort now that he was staring down the entrance to the preserve. The little parking lot was empty; whichever deputy was on duty tonight must have had better plans. Theo swallowed hard as he shut off the engine.

“Should we wait here or go out on foot?” Liam asked.

Theo didn’t hear Liam’s question. He stared out the window into the darkness of the preserve; he thought he could see Tara standing there on the trail. Watching him. Waiting for him. The air felt thicker somehow, stopping in Theo’s throat and choking him.

Theo. Theeeoo.

“Theo,” Liam said, putting a steadying hand on Theo's shoulder. “Where did you go?”

Theo looked at Liam, then back to the trail. Tara was gone.

“Nowhere, I’m fine,” Theo said. “We should go to the bridge; that’s where she’ll be.”

Liam wanted to protest, he didn’t like the headspace Theo was in. But, he supposed Theo would never really get over what happened with his sister. How could he?

The boys began their trek into the preserve. A light breeze blew through the tree branches, and the dark sky was speckled with stars. Liam could see the moon through the canopy of trees. It was just a sliver of light, a crescent that reminded him of the Cheshire Cat. It would have been pretty - the picturesque forest backlight by the twinkling night sky - if not for the eerie presence looming over the preserve. It was like the preserve itself had been tainted a malevolence; a monster lurking within it.

Theo’s eyes kept darting back and forth between the trees, expecting to see Tara prowling among them. The gentle sound of the stream told Theo they were getting close, and he picked up the pace slightly. Theo was scared. Terrified really, but he wanted this to be over. Maybe this would give him closure. Maybe once Tara was gone, he could move on.

The bridge looked the same as it did nine years ago. The wood was more worn and time-weary, but you could hardly tell at night. Theo approached the bridge and willed himself not to flinch as the boards creaked beneath his feet. He placed his hand gently on the splintering railing and closed his eyes. Standing there, in the same spot he stood when he was nine years old, his fear dissipated and was replaced with a burning sense of shame. How could he stand by and watch his sister suffer? What kind of monster would do what he did?

Murderer, monster, psychopath.

The air became cold. The breeze was gone, but the chill crawling up Theo’s spine was unmistakable.

“Theo,” Liam said.

Theo tightened his grip on the railing, his knuckles turning white. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. The white tendrils forming in the cold air told him everything. Tara was here.

“Theo,” Liam said again, and Theo finally turned to look at him. “Someone’s here.”

“I know,” Theo replied. He was going to tell Liam to run when Liam said,

“Two people. I can hear them walking, and I thought I heard a car engine.”

Just as suddenly as the breeze stopped, it returned, rustling the branches around them. The chill in Theo’s spine was gone, and he could no longer see his breath in the air. Either Tara was gone, or he was imagining things. Either way, Liam was right: two people were approaching them, and they needed to find out who.

“Can you see anything?” Liam asked.

“They’re too far. All I see is trees,” Theo said.

“Told you we needed flashlights,” Liam mumbled.

Theo resisted the urge to punch Liam. Instead, he pulled the boy with him to duck behind the bridge.

“Aw! My socks are gonna be all wet now,” Liam sighed, looking down at the few inches of water his feet were submerged in.

“Liam, shut up,” Theo said, rolling his eyes.

Two beams of light filtered through the tree line. The footsteps were getting closer, but Theo still couldn’t see the people they belonged to.

“They brought flashlights,” Liam whispered.

Theo tipped his head back in aggravation, “Liam, I swear to God-“

“You’re an atheist,” Liam countered.

“Really?” Theo said in disbelief.

Amid their bickering, the two boys didn't realize the footsteps they heard were coming from behind them. Suddenly, the shortened barrel of a sawed-off shotgun was pressed against Liam's temple.

“Turn around and put your hands up!” A gruff voice said.

Theo pulled his hoodie tighter around him; the gentle breeze had picked up, and now a harsh wind nipped at his skin. He wanted to leave; he and Liam should have gone as soon as the other agent wandered off to call for backup, yet they were still standing in the clearing, waiting for whatever came next. Theo was not the type for nervous pacing; instead, he stood stoically and glared at Sam.

"Who are you really?" Theo asked.

"My name is Sam Winchester." He said, "And that was my brother, Dean." Sam made a vague gesture in the direction Dean disappeared into.

Theo raised an eyebrow, pressing Sam to continue. "We are here to investigate the murders, but we aren't FBI, we're hunters."

"Hunters?" Liam repeated darting a worried glance at Theo. There hadn't been hunters in Beacon Hills since Monroe left.

"We hunt supernatural creatures, and right now, we think Tara's ghost may be responsible for the murders," Sam explained.

Theo tensed, unsure how to proceed from here. He knew that Tara had to be responsible for the murders somehow, but something about this man saying it was her ghost made it seem unreal. Or maybe everything had suddenly become too real, Theo wasn't sure.

Theo glanced at Liam; the younger boy was sizing Sam up as if trying to decide if he could take him in a fight. Sam and Dean were hunters, Theo and Liam were werewolves – or werewolf adjacent in Theo’s case – and those two things rarely mix well. But Liam exposing their true nature in a fit of rage would not help their situation. Hitching his hand in his pocket, Theo fished out his keys and tossed them to Liam.

“You should go home,” he said.

Liam caught the keys and swiftly put them in his own pocket. “What? No,” he replied. He crossed his arms over his chest, hands tucked away petulantly to emphasize how little he wanted Theo's keys.

Liam was not about to leave Theo alone with these hunters. Theo may be stubborn, but so was Liam, and Liam was not about to let Theo do something so monumentally stupid. Not alone anyway.

“Theo, you don’t even know what these guys want,” Liam said with a glance at Sam.

Sam, to his credit, was trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He had taken a few steps back to give the boys at least the illusion of privacy. But still, his presence was looming around them.

"I know they want to get rid of Tara. That is all I need to know," Theo said with more confidence than he felt. Trusting a hunter could be a fatal mistake, but it would be his mistake; he wanted Liam as far from harm's way as possible.

Liam stared Theo dead in the eye, chest rising in furious huffs. A grey veil of clouds drifted across the sky, shrouding the stars. Rain was coming; they should all be leaving the preserve, but Liam was determined to leave with Theo. Liam could almost feel his blood boiling; why was Theo trying to bench him now, with the added threat of hunters?

“You hunt supernatural creatures?” Liam snapped, directing his attention at Sam now.

“I know it sounds crazy-“ Sam started.

Liam took a heated step towards Sam, “It's not crazy, I totally believe you-“

Theo grabbed Liam by his coat sleeve and spun him back so he was facing Theo again. Liam's fangs were already showing, and Theo thanked a god he didn't even believe in that it was too dark for the hunter to notice. But glowing gold eyes would be harder to ignore.

“What are you doing?” Theo asked harshly. Liam was clearly not in his right mind. His eyes flickered gold momentarily before returning to their usual blue, but Liam was still strung like a live wire.

“Let go!” Liam grit, yanking his arm back in an attempt to break free.

“Liam-“

“I said let go!”

Liam shoved Theo backward, not rough enough to knock the boy over, but enough force to make Theo release his grip on Liam’s arm. Liam turned his furry back on Sam.

"We just want to make sure Tara doesn't hurt anyone else," Sam said calmly. Not knowing the danger he was in, Sam continued, "We need to find an alternative way to put her spirit to rest without destroying her remains."

Theo tried to conceal his fear at that statement; he could deal with that when Liam wasn't on the verge of an episode.

"Destroy her remains? What do you mean destroy her remains?" Liam shouted.

"Liam, calm down," Theo said. "We'll figure it out ok?"

For all Theo knew, that was a complete lie. But that didn't matter now. Right now, Theo's priority was preventing Liam from killing Sam Winchester.

A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Sam glanced up at the impending storm above and back at the storm unfolding before him. What the hell was taking Dean so long?

"How can you trust them? They want to destroy you!" Liam was in a tailspin; everything was getting to be too loud, too close. He needed to focus. But he couldn't shake what Sam had said. Destroy. He wasn't going to let these hunters touch Theo.

"I'm not gonna let them hurt you! You're my responsibility!" Liam yelled.

Another crash of thunder shook the sky. Theo faltered. Disbelief overtook him as he stared at Liam, not knowing what to say.

"I'm your responsibility?" Theo repeated finally. "I never asked to be your responsibility!"

"No, Theo-"

"Is that what this is? You feel responsible for me?" Theo said, his voice thick with contempt. "What, you feel guilty, so now you want to help to make yourself feel better?"

"That's not what I-"

"Don't!" Theo bit back. "Maybe you were right; you should have left me in the ground since I've been such a burden to you!”

"Theo," Liam tried. He realized his mistake too late, and now, he feared he ruined everything.

“Go home, Liam.” Theo’s voice was steady now. All emotion had been drained from it, and there would be no arguing with him. “You don’t have to be responsible for me anymore.”

Liam held Theo's gaze for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket and removing the keys to Theo's truck. He tossed them back to their owner, not waiting to see if he caught them, and stalked out of the preserve.

Theo stared at Liam's retreating figure until he was out of view. Turning back to Sam, he saw the man looking at Theo sympathetically. Pityingly. Theo wouldn't have it; he didn't want this man's sympathy, and he didn't need his pity. He lifted his head defiantly and looked Sam straight in the eye.

"How do you plan on killing my sister?" He asked.

Sleep would be out of the question for Liam that night. He was too consumed with anger to rest. His chest felt tight, and his thoughts were racing in and out of focus faster than Liam could keep up with. He knew he was overreacting, but the maddening pressure building behind Liam's eyes was staggering, and all he could grasp was the need for relief.

Somewhere, deep in Liam's subconscious, a more rational part of him hoped he might walk off his anger. It hoped that by the time he arrived home, he would have calmed down enough to regain his control. It was wishful thinking, but still, Liam walked. He walked until the cacophony of thunder seemed constant; even nature wouldn't give him a peaceful reprieve. Each clap of thunder felt like a punch, and Liam couldn't fight back. He walked until even the sound of his footsteps against the sidewalk made him want to break something. He walked until his palms burned from clenching his fists too tight. He walked until everything became frustrating. Liam opened his shaking hands, looking at the little bloody crescents his claws had left on his skin. None of this was helping. Not the walk, not the thunder, not the pain. None of it brought him any relief.

Liam hissed as cold droplets of water stung the cuts in his palms; the first few raindrops had begun to fall. Perfect. Now Liam would also have getting soaked to be angry about. He glanced up from his palms to gauge how much longer it would take him to get home and was met with the doors to the Sheriff's station. Liam walked from the preserve to the Sheriff's station without realizing it.

This was a bad idea. A horrible idea, but Liam didn't care. He needed relief from the wrathful pounding in his head, from the vice grip on his lungs, and this would do it.

Liam followed his impulse and pushed open the doors. The station was empty; all the deputies had gone home for the night. Liam had forgotten how late it was. The only light was the dim glow of a desk lamp radiating from the Sheriff's office.

Sheriff Stilinski sat at his desk, an open case file splayed across its surface and a forgotten cup of coffee at its side. The whiteboard behind the desk was a collage of crime scene photos, victim profiles, and red yarn. Lots of red yarn. But what caught Liam's attention, the final straw that had him storming into the Sheriff's office, was Theo's picture at the centre of it all.

The Sheriff himself had been looking through the bestiary, for probably the hundredth time that week, when he heard his office door swing open.

“Liam?” The Sheriff asked. “What are you doing here? It's 3 o'clock in the morning?”

“Why did you tell those agents Theo killed his sister?” Liam growled.

“Because it was the truth,” Stilinski said matter of factly. The man never hid his dislike for Theo, but Liam didn't think the Sheriff would frame him for murder.

“It isn’t true, and you know it! Even after all Theo's done to help us you still don’t trust him!”

“He’s a murderer Liam!” Sheriff Stilinski shouted, “He can’t be trusted.”

Theo remained Sheriff Stilinski's number one suspect in this case, and until he was presented with another plausible suspect, he didn't see that changing.

"Liam, I can't be sure of a lot of things. But one thing I am certain of: Theo Raeken is not some innocent victim. He chose his path." The Sheriff said.

“He was nine! Do you honestly think he had a choice? He did what he had to!” Liam clenched his fists again. This time he could feel blood dripping through his fingers.

“He had a choice.” The Sheriff's tone was eerily steady as the implication of his statement hit Liam. Theo did have a choice: he could have chosen to disobey the Dread Doctors. Theo could have chosen to die.

Sheriff Stilinski rose from his seat and stepped towards Liam. He watched as the Sheriff pulled open his office door, the signal for Liam to leave. Liam held his ground; he glared audaciously up at the Sheriff.

“Do blame Stiles?” Liam asked.

“Pardon?” The Sheriff asked incredulously.

“Do you blame Stiles?" Liam repeated boldly. "For what he did when the Nogitsune possessed him? Do you resent him?”

“Of course not! He was being controlled. Stiles didn’t choose to hurt anyone,” Stilinski said. "And I suggest you choose your next words very carefully Liam."

The Sheriff's warning fell on deaf ears as Liam plowed forward. “You think Theo wanted to be a killer? You think he doesn’t regret those things every day?”

“Regret doesn’t change what happened,” Stilinski countered.

“I know what Theo did, and he made up for it. What do think happened to him when Kira killed him?” Liam asked. “He was suffering! He’s still suffering, and none of you even care!”

“I don’t know what happened to him down there, but whatever it was, I’m sure he deserved it!” Sheriff Stilinski spat.

Liam actually flinched at the Sheriff's venomous tone. But more disturbing than the Sheriff's words, was the memory of his own words, his own malicious voice: “I think that whatever happened to you down there, you deserved it.” Liam had said those words, and he had said them to Theo.

Something in Liam snapped. He blacked out; all that was left was rage. With his claws and fangs bared, Liam threw himself at the Sheriff, wanting to rip him apart. Stilinski blocked the first blow, shielding his face using his arms. But with Liam’s second punch, he felt his fist connect with the Sheriff's nose. There was a satisfying crunch as blood trickled down the Sheriff's face. Liam wasn’t finished; he drew back and landed another punch straight to the Sheriff's jaw. Once again Liam felt the blow make contact, and the Sheriff stumbled slightly.

The blinding rage that had been consuming him for the past hour was finally starting to dissipate. Liam finally felt the slightest bit of relief but he still couldn't stop. Liam gnashed his teeth together in a futile attempt to hold back. His eyes shone bright gold as he snarled at the sheriff. Ragged breaths raked Liam's body as he threw another punch. This time, the Sheriff caught Liam's fist before it could make contact. He used Liam's momentary shock to his advantage and twisted the boy's arm behind his back. The Sheriff gripped the back of Liam's neck and slammed him against the wall. Liam turned his neck, craving, even while pinned, to continue his attack. He growled furiously and thrashed in place as he tried to bite the Sheriff. Liam crashed his jaw together with enough force to break his teeth if not for his supernatural strength.

Before Liam could land his next attack, he felt a sharp prick in his neck. The edges of his vision became blurry, and Liam felt a woozy sensation come over him before he suddenly felt nothing at all. Then, everything was dark.

Theo tapped his fingers rhythmically along the steering wheel. Tap, tap, tap. From pointer finger to ring finger, then back again. Rain drummed against the windshield, blurring the glow of traffic lights and headlights alike until they were dripping blotches of colour on the glass.

Theo followed closely behind the hunters in their black Impala, hoping he had made the right decision. The tapping of Theo’s fingers synched to the drum of the rain, and Theo felt a pang of guilt. He hoped Liam had gotten home already. Theo felt like he was standing on a precipice between anger and remorse. There was a heavy ache in his chest, one that was all too aware of Liam’s absence and yearned to apologize. But, there was also a spark of fiery indignation weighing on Theo’s mind, one that wanted to wait until Liam apologized to him. The conflicting emotions pulled Theo’s thoughts in opposite directions, leaving him agitated and uneasy.

Theo turned his mind to the slick roads and the car in front of him. The two men in the Impala were talking. Theo could hear them, but the rain worked hard to drown them out. The conversation barely grazed the edges of Theo’s perception, only letting snippets pass through.

“Cas has never been able to banish vengeful spirits before.”

“Unfinished business.”

“Bickering like you and Cas, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The half-finished sentences drifted into Theo's truck, leaving him with more questions than answers. Eventually, Theo tuned the hunters out in favour of listening to the unrelenting torrent of rain. They drove for what felt like hours, but realistically could only have been 20 minutes or so, before they arrived at the Moon Beam Inn.

The Inn sat nestled at the crossroads between Route 16 and Main Street. There was a cheery and ironic sign of a full moon standing at the entrance to the parking lot. The sign lit up with neon silver bulbs, illuminating the space around it. It had a welcoming exterior as far as motels go, fresh-looking stucco and doors painted bright blue, plus the quaint little cafe attached to the lobby. The homey atmosphere the inn presented should have given Theo some comfort; but the vacant parking lot sent unrelenting waves of apprehension to weave their way into Theo’s thoughts.

He was now facing the startling reality that he had willingly followed two strange men, who were hunters no less, to an empty motel on the outskirts of town.

Dean parked the Impala in the spot closest to his and Sam’s room. The Winchester boys waited for Theo's truck to stop, parking in the spot next to theirs, before making a beeline for the room.

Sam and Dean shucked off their wet coats and toed off their boots, both men moving about the room with familiarity and ease. Theo tried to let their airy composure settle some of his unrest, but he stood next to the door in case he needed a quick escape.

“So, Theo,” Dean began. “How long have you thought your sister was responsible for these murders?”

Dean's question was somewhat blunt, but Theo appreciated that. “Pretty much since they started,” Theo said. “I didn’t know for sure; I just thought it was too much of a coincidence for it not to be her.”

Sam sat at the edge of his bed with an old leather-bound book perched in his lap. The brown leather of the cover was worn and tattered, and the pages Sam flipped through were littered with messy drawings and frenzied notes.

“Ok, well, we think your sister may have some unfinished business, and that’s why her spirit can’t rest,” Dean explained.

“Ok,” Theo said, “and how do you put a spirit to rest?” The word ‘destroy’ still weighed heavily on his mind.

Dean turned to look at his brother both men wore the same expression of reluctance.

“You have a unique situation,” Dean said. "The normal method of dispelling spirits wouldn't work."

“We called a friend of ours who might be able to help us figure out another way to put your sister's spirit to rest,” Sam added.

There was a knock at the door as if the Winchesters had summoned their friend directly to their motel room. Theo remained still, not moving from his spot against the wall as Dean opened the door. A man in a beige trench coat entered the motel room. Theo could hear the rain still pelting the Earth outside, so he found it odd that this man's coat was completely dry.

Dean ushered Castiel into the motel room with a hand on the angel's shoulder.

“You got here quick, Cas,” Sam said.

“Yes, well, Eileen was visiting when you called. She was kind enough to offer to stay with Jack while I was gone,” Cas said.

A warm smile spread across Sam’s face. It was a genuine smile that left little lines in the corners of his eyes. The younger Winchester returned his attention to the journal in front of him, his smile still spread across his face.

Dean, whose hand had still not left Castiel's shoulder, gestured at Theo. “Cas, this is Theo,” he introduced.

A shadow of suspicion crept over Castiel's features. He squinted his eyes and glared at Theo; every minute detail of the man’s face exuded doubt. Tension filled the air as Castiel scrutinized Theo; as though Castiel was analyzing his every atom.

Finally, Cas spoke, “What are you?”

Theo noticed Castiel's right first clenched at his side, and there was a light glimmer of something silver beneath his fingers: a concealed blade tucked discretely beneath the fabric of Castiel's trench coat.

“Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, not doubting Cas' suspicions for a second.

“Dean, this boy is not human,” Cas announced.

Sam and Dean sprang into action with synchronized precision. Sam's hand swiftly retrieved a serrated knife from his pocket, its blade adorned with intricate runic symbols, whispering of unknown power. Meanwhile, Dean smoothly drew his white-handled Colt from his belt loop. Castiel, ever vigilant, kept his angel blade discreetly up his sleeve – a silent threat poised to emerge when the need arose.

Theo stared down the unforgiving barrel of Dean's firearm, uncertainty flickering in his mind as he debated the benefits of revealing himself as a Chimera. Theo was sure he could take a bullet; he had survived worse, but he didn’t like the three-against-one odds.

"What are you?" Dean gruffly inquired.

"A Chimera," Theo responded, matching Dean's tone with a steely resolve. "A genetically modified werewolf."

Theo's eyes ignited with a golden glow, and he bared his fangs, in a warning that he was prepared to fight if necessary.

Dean's calloused thumb deftly flicked off the safety on his gun, the metallic click echoing in the charged silence. His eyes bore into Theo, a silent urging that seemed to convey, without words, “Give me a reason not to pull this trigger”. The unspoken threat lingered in the air.

"What I am doesn't matter. I don't want to hurt anyone; I need to stop my sister from killing again." Theo said.

Sam was still clutching his knife in anticipation of a fight, but he was the first to believe Theo. "If Theo wanted to hurt us, he could’ve done it by now," Sam asserted. Thinking back to the preserve when Theo actively tried to prevent his friend from attacking Sam, and the moments after where Theo cooperated with Sam and Deans directions to follow them back to their motel. No, Theo didn't seem like a threat.

Dean hesitated but eventually agreed with his brother, holstering the Colt. Theo noted Sam waiting for Dean to lower his guard before following suit. Castiel still eyed Theo skeptically, but the atmosphere shifted, and the imminent threat faded. Theo allowed his lupine features to fade as well. He no longer felt the need to maintain a defensive stance.

Curious, Theo inquired, "How did you know I wasn't human?"

Dean answered before Castiel could speak a word. “He's an Angel. Capital A, you know, with wings and a harp."

Castiel rolled his eyes, clarifying, "No, I don't have a harp. Dean, we’ve been over this."

The exchange lightened the tension in the room, leaving Theo feeling a slight sense of relief. At least the men no longer seemed intent on killing him.

Theo's mind buzzed with questions as he starred at the angel before him. In all his research on the Supernatural, he had never encountered anything about angels. It dawned on Theo that the Dread Doctors, consumed with their twisted experiments, likely deemed angels irrelevant. Therefore, they had no use for books about them. Ultimately, Theo resolved that his inquiries into angelic lore could wait, he needed to redirected his attention to the pressing matter at hand: Tara.

"So, if we are not hunting werewolves, what exactly are we hunting?" Asked Cas.

Dean's reply was direct, "A vengeful spirit, Theo's sister."

Castiel's expression twisted in confusion, a subtle hint of uncertainty about why the Winchesters needed his assistance hunting a ghost. They did not usually require his help for something so simple.

Sam stepped in to offer an explanation, “The issue is, Tara's heart was given to Theo in a transplant."

Castiel's understanding clicked, "We cannot destroy her remains."

The gravity of the situation hung in the air as they grappled with the intricacies of their unique predicament.

“This has never happened before?" Theo questioned, surprised that seasoned hunters never encountered a situation like this in the past.

“Not that we've dealt with, no," Dean responded. “But we'll figure it out; we always figure it out."

Theo felt that Dean's attempt at inspiring hope fell short. If Theo had to sit around sifting through old books and lore about ghosts to “figure out” a solution, he would much rather do that with Liam, Mason, and Corey - people he could trust.

Sam had returned to sitting on the edge of his bed and was now flipping through yet another tattered leather book. “Bobby’s journal has a ton of stuff about warding a person from ghosts.”

“You mean like what Cas carved into our ribs to hide us from Lucifer?” Dean asked.

Theo blinked rapidly, stunned by the nonchalance with which Dean mentioned having something carved into his ribs. Not to mention how casually he spoke of Satan himself.

“Yeah, kind of," Sam replied. "I mean, different rituals need different things, but I was thinking Cas could break the link between Theo and Tara-"

Interrupting the unfolding discussion, Theo snapped, "Could somebody just explain to me what the hell is happening here?"

First the hunters said Tara's remains needed to be destroyed, and now apparently a ritual could fix everything? Theo was getting sick of these men talking about him like he wasn’t there, treating him like some test subject for whatever ritual they were gearing up to perform. He already endured enough of that with the Dread Doctors.

“Putting a spirit to rest usually involves salting and burning their remains," explained Castiel.

Dean, casting a fond yet exasperated glance at Cas, added, "But in this case, we can't do that. So, we think breaking the link between your heart and your sister's spirit might do the trick."

Theo remained silent.

"Isn't that right, Sammy?" Dean turned to his brother.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam confirmed.

Theo found no comfort in this situation. In fact, he detested it. However, with seemingly no alternative options, he reluctantly conceded, "Fine, I'll need to know exactly what's gonna happen to me but.. I guess, let's give it a shot."

Theo smoothly moved away from the door, assuming a posture that radiated a subtle, though false, confidence. Leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his midsection. Meanwhile, Sam rose from his seat and strolled towards Cas, drawing Cas's attention to the passage he had been reading from Bobby’s journal.

“Would you be able to sense an unwanted tether between Theo and Tara?” Sam asked.

Cas, nodded “I could find the tether, but breaking the connection would still be a necessary step."

“We could use Yarrow root,” Dean proposed. “That wards against spirits and it’s used in loads of purification rituals.”

“Yarrow root? Like, Soldiers Woundwort?" Theo chuckled.

Dean, perplexed, inquired, "Soldier what now?"

“It's the Achilles flower.” Theo explained, “Achilles and his soldiers used Yarrow for protection and healing during the Trojan War."

Theo’s gaze swept over their varied reactions – Dean's dumbfounded expression, Cas's stoic demeanor, and Sam's impressed grin.

“That’s where the botanical name Achillea Millefolium comes from," Theo continued, trailing off with a touch of embarrassment. A fleeting realization crossed his mind that he might be sharing a taste of Liam's experience, when he thought people lost interest in his tangents.

Sam broke the silence. "How did you know all that?"

“My friend really likes history,” Theo responded quietly.

“Smart kid," Dean praised.

"Where are you gonna find Yarrow root? I thought it was just a myth," Theo questioned, desperate for a change in subject.

"I've got some in the trunk of the car," Dean responded, heading towards the door. "I'll grab the plant; Cas, you handle the soul searching.”

Dean slipped his leather jacket around his shoulders and ventured back out into the rain. Theo’s gaze followed Dean as he left the room, when he turned around he was standing almost toe to toe with Castiel.

Castiel loomed before Theo, his presence more menacing than Theo had envisioned for an angel. Without warning, Castiel extended a hand toward Theo's chest, sparking panic in Theo, who hastily stumbled backward, gripping his chest. His eyes blazed gold without him even meaning to.

Castiel froze mid-motion, his arm suspended, confused as to how he’d managed to spook Theo so badly. "I don't have to make contact if that makes you uncomfortable," he assured.

Theo regarded the angel skeptically, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. He didn’t want anyone’s hands anywhere near his chest. Theo could tolerate physical touch - he had to make himself used to it to avoid suspicion with Scott’s pack - but he never let anyone, under any circumstances, put a hand over his heart.

"It doesn't hurt," Sam offered, assuming that was why Theo panicked. “I’ve had it done before.”

Gathering himself, Theo straightened up, bracing for the ordeal ahead. He met Castiel's gaze, offering a subtle nod before reluctantly withdrawing his hand from his heart, leaving it exposed to the angelic scrutiny.

Castiel took another step forward, extending his arm until his palm hovered barely an inch above Theo's chest. The angel's eyes glowed with a radiant white light, like heavenly fire, and a matching light radiated from his hand.

Sam's was telling the truth – Castiel's power wasn't painful; it was actually a comforting warmth. Theo felt the warm sensation spreading through his whole body, reaching into his consciousness, searching for that connection to Tara. As swiftly as it came, the warmth vanished. The light from Castiel's palm dimmed and extinguished, his eyes following just a moment later.

“There is a presence attached to your heart.” Castiel said. “A link between you and your sister.”

Theo’s shock was unwarranted. It was Tara’s heart after all, or course her spirit would be attached to it. “Ok, so how are flowers supposed to sever that link?” Theo asked.

“We need to crush the flowers and steep them in boiling water. Then, we'll anoint you with the concentrated brew, and I'll recite an Enochian incantation of protection, which breaks attachment from evil entities.” Castiel explained with theatrical flair. As though the process wasn't essentially pouring tea over Theo's head while uttering a magical spell.

What lingered in Theo's mind wasn't the process itself, it was the intention. The incantation was intended to banish evil entities, and Theo couldn't bring himself to call his sister evil; she sought revenge, a motive he could comprehend. In his eyes, if anyone should be shackled with the title of evil, it was him; Theo felt deserving of his sister's wrath.

Before long, Dean returned with a small velvet pouch in one hand and a delicate bouquet of pink and white flowers in the other. "I wasn't sure if we needed the whole flower or just the dried petals and roots."

Dean shrugged off his, once again soaked, jacket, presenting the bouquet to Castiel. "Will you be my Valentine?" he quipped, a grin on his face, clearly reveling in his own cheesy humor. Sam, worn out by his brother's so-called sense of humor, groaned and rolled his eyes.

"It's October, Dean," Castiel deadpanned. The angel extended his palm, placing it against Dean's collarbone, unleashing a bluish-white light. Instantly, the wet spots on Dean's shirt vanished, and his damp hair transformed into dry strands.

Dean appeared unfazed by the angel's powers, as if such occurrences were routine for him.

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of Theo’s ring tone, prompting the boy to wonder who would call at such an early hour. With no name on the caller ID, Theo dismissed the call. Theo observed the Winchesters and their celestial companion bustling around the motel room, gathering ingredients and inscribing runes onto the bathroom wallpaper in preparation for the ritual. A second ring pierced the air, the caller ID once again read unknown.

"Hello?" Theo greeted, answering the call, curiosity having gotten the better of him.

“Ms. Dunbar?" It struck him as odd that Liam's mother would dial from an unknown number, considering both Jenna and David had insisted Theo save their contact information for any emergencies. Theo appreciated the gesture but never intended to inconvenience the Dunbar-Geyer’s.

"Is everything okay?" Theo inquired, concern creeping into his voice. Jenna calling him at 4 o'clock in the morning was more than worrisome. The woman offered little explanation over the phone, only mentioning that something had happened to Liam, and that he was at the Sheriff's Station.

Theo strode toward the door. "I'm on my way now," he assured Jenna, detecting her worry through the phone. As she hung up, Theo turned to the hunters.

"I have to go," he stated. "Can this wait?"

"What? We need to—"

"I wasn't really asking. I have your number; we can break Tara's connection to me later," Theo interjected, rushing out the door.

He clambered behind the wheel of his truck, pushing its limits and bending a few traffic laws in his hurry to get to the Sheriffs station. Theo could only hope Liam hadn't done something that couldn’t be fixed.

Liam could hear voices. They were soft whispers, hushed tones that barely carried across the empty station. Liam felt like his head was full of cotton, the voices getting caught and stretched out by the fibers so that they had a fuzzy, unintelligible edge to them. His head felt heavy; his vision swam as Liam raised his head briefly to take in his surroundings. Through the cloudiness, Liam realized he was in the Sheriff's station, lying face down on a bench in the holding cell. His neck was stiff, his muscles sore, and his back ached from lying haphazardly across the unforgiving metal bench.

Liam felt dazed; he couldn't recall how long he'd been in the holding cell or how he got to the station. But he didn't want to move just yet; the cold metal against his cheek aided the throbbing pain in Liam's forehead, and he wanted to relish in that for a moment longer. If he squinted, he could see the shadowy outlines of people silhouetted in the early morning light. They must be talking about something important, but Liam was too tired to figure out what it was.

The cottony whispering faded into the background, numbing Liam's mind like TV static. The noise was surprisingly peaceful as it drifted through Liam's subconscious plucking at his memories and drawing them to the surface. It was all coming back to him now. The preserve. The hunters. The fight with Theo. His anger at Sheriff Stilinski. Piece by piece, the night came back to him like a puzzle he didn't want to solve.

The rage was gone, replaced with the familiar shame and embarrassment Liam felt after an episode. There was no relief now. No gratification or justice served. There was only the pit in Liam's stomach. The festering pit of anxiety that clung to him like a second skin. He had been doing so well recently; he hadn’t had an episode in almost a year. Liam had worked so hard to keep himself under control, and all of it had been for nothing.

“Hey, Little Wolf.”

Liam looked up and saw Theo standing on the other side of the bars. Liam pushed himself upright, ignoring the pain now. Or rather, embracing it, enduring it, because he needed it: needed the distraction. Liam hung his head as Theo entered the holding cell, his hair a messy curtain covering his eyes. Liam brought his hands up, about to push his hair back, when he saw the blood. There was dried blood crusted over Liam's knuckles, the Sheriff's blood. There was blood caked beneath his fingernails too, but at least that blood was his own. Liam released a rattling breath as Theo crouched down in front of him.

“How bad is it?” Liam asked sadly.

Theo gently reached for Liam's right hand and wiped the dried blood away with a wet paper towel, "It could be worse," he said.

"Theo," Liam said. He was so tired. Tired and humiliated, and didn't want Theo to sugarcoat this. Liam wanted to hear the truth, and then he would go home and possibly never leave again.

“You attacked the Sheriff and almost broke his nose,” Theo said. Liam could sense underlying pride in Theo's tone. If Liam was not so distraught, he might have found that funny.

The blood was gone now, but Liam could still feel it. Like a phantom limb, he could still feel blood covering his hands. The longer he stared, the more he thought he could see the blood too.

“The Sheriff called you?” Liam asked disbelievingly.

“No, your mom did,” Theo said gently, knowing Liam would only panic at the mention of his parents. “Your parents are talking to Stilinski right now."

As expected, Theo felt the spike in Liam's adrenaline and noted the sour scents of fear and anxiety wafting off of him. Liam tore his hands out of Theo's grasp and raked them through his hair, tugging harshly at the strands.

"I can't-" Liam said desperately. "I can't do this to them again."

Theo had been there to prevent Liam from having an episode before, or at the very least to re-direct the boy's anger, so he took it out on Theo instead. But Theo had never seen the aftermath before. He didn't know the right thing to say to help Liam. He watched Liam curling in on himself, knuckles white with how hard he was tugging at his hair, wishing he could take Liam's pain away.

"The Sheriff isn't pressing charges," Theo tried.

Liam was relieved to hear that, but despised that he had to do this to his parents again. He had put them through so much already. He met Theo's eye and saw that Theo was staring intently at Liam's hands, which were still grasping tightly at his hair. Liam released the strands, bracketing his hands on the back of his neck instead, and let himself lock in on Theo’s heartbeat. Liam shut his eyes and allowed the steady rhythm of Theo's heart to soothe him.

Liam did not remember the moment he realized Theo had become his anchor. Perhaps it had been the day at the zoo or, maybe, the day after the shooting at Scott's house. He didn't know exactly. All Liam knew was that nothing kept him grounded anymore. Nothing but Theo.

“This hasn’t happened in a while,” Theo said. “What happened to your mantra?”

Liam's gaze flicked back to Theo's eyes, then to the ground. “That doesn’t work anymore," Liam said. "It hasn’t worked in a while.”

Theo nodded in understanding. They sat silently for a moment, Theo listening to Liam breathing until he was sure the younger boy had calmed down somewhat. Theo knew Liam had become something of an anchor to him; he didn't rely on Liam's presence to keep calm, but he definitely felt more at ease when Liam was around. Until that moment, Theo did not know he was an anchor for Liam; he didn't know Liam was comforted by his presence too.

“I'm sorry about what happened in the preserve,” Liam said. "I didn't mean that you were just a responsibility."

“I know,” Theo nodded. Liam had never acted as though he didn't want Theo around, but Theo was still learning what it was like to have friends in his life. What it was like to have Liam in his life. "I'm sorry too," Theo said.

There was another silent stretch between the two boys before they heard Liam's parents approaching. Theo stood slowly as Liam's mother and stepfather entered the holding cell; Jenna squeezed Theo's shoulder gently as she past him. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he exited the cell. Theo wanted to stay; he wanted to make sure Liam was alright, but he could feel the Sheriff's glare on the back of his neck, and he thought it better to leave.

Liam kept his eyes shut tight. He knew that when he opened them, Theo would be gone, and he would have to face his parents. He was scared to see his parent's expressions, scared they would be expressions of disgust or fear. Liam feared, more than anything, that this was the final straw before his parents realized he was a monster. Liam eventually worked up the courage to open his eyes and was met with his mother's gentle features. Her eyes, the same sky blue as his, were soft and sad. But her face was as warm and kind as always. For a while, Jenna said nothing. She simply looked at her son with a mix of sorrow and admiration.

Liam noticed the faint tear tracks on his mother's face as the light caught them. He inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what she was feeling. Liam thought she smelled vaguely syrupy; mostly sweet but with a bitter shadow. Empathy, Liam realized. The chemo-signal he was smelling was empathy. His heart swelled with relief. They don't hate me, Liam thought.

“I’m so sorry Mom,” Liam sobbed, finally letting the dam break. “I promise I’ve been trying so hard.”

Jenna pulled Liam into a tight hug, carding her fingers through his hair, “I know, I know you are.”

Liam buried his face in the crook of his mom's neck, arms wrapped tightly around her, as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

David put a reassuring hand on his stepson's shoulder. "It's been tough for you Liam, tougher than we know. But you always find a way to keep moving forward, and you should be proud of that."

Liam made a choked sound, shaking in his mother's embrace. He wanted to protest, to tell his parents he didn’t deserve their praise. To promise them he would try harder. His mother shushed him softly like she had read his mind.

"I know you hate it, but you will stumble sometimes," David said. "Today you stumbled, but tomorrow we start new."

Liam nodded meekly. He did hate it. Liam hated this feeling. He hated knowing he would never get rid of this feeling. Not really.

"Day by day," Jenna said, sharing a tearful look with her husband.

Jenna and David grappled with the haunting realization that they could never truly understand the depths of Liam's torment. The revelation that Liam was a werewolf was still fresh, and an unexpected chapter in their family's story. The adjustment was a difficult, but amidst the uncertainty, their determination to stand by Liam remained unyielding. Liam was not merely a werewolf; he was, first and foremost, their child. Yet, a chilling worry gripped the couple - an unsettling awareness of just how out of their depth they were. Jenna and David didn’t know where to begin in aiding Liam with his struggles.

When Liam was first diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, David and Jenna knew there would be challenges, but they approached it with a sense of capability, an assurance that they could navigate the storm. However, the current tempest felt entirely different. Liam's battle with I.E.D. was intensified by his lycanthropy, making his aggression harder to control. Helplessly watching their son grapple with forces beyond their understanding, Jenna and David felt an acute pang of despair. It was a unique agony – the agony of a parent unable to shield their child from the things that haunted him.

In the face of their own limitations, a resilient determination emerged. If they couldn't shield Liam from the storm, they vowed to be the unwavering lighthouse that provided him comfort. Jenna and David realized that their role was not to conquer Liam’s battles for him, but to be his constant source of solace.

Liam would have been content to let the rest of the day pass in an uneventful haze of self-loathing silence. His bed was calling his name; he could hide beneath the covers, hoping they would shield him from the outside world. Liam would convince his parents that he was okay, telling them he was just tired and there was no need to worry. They certainly should not miss their shifts at the hospital on his account, and Liam would be able to hide for a little while longer.

A day in bed would do Liam good; he truly was exhausted. It was a type of visceral exhaustion that Liam could feel sinking into his bones, the kind of exhaustion a seventeen-year-old should not be familiar with. It made his whole body feel heavy, and every movement made him ache. Despite the pull Liam felt towards his bed, he knew he couldn't hide forever. Besides, Liam needed to talk to Theo about what happened after he left the preserve. Liam's shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of his responsibilities. "How did Scott do it?" Liam thought miserably. Though the thought of his friend left Liam wistful. He looked up to Scott; he was someone Liam could always count on in the past. But, with the older boy dodging his phone calls, Liam couldn't help but feel abandoned.

Liam dropped his bag into the front seat and hopped into his mother's car. She looked him over, taking in the weary lines of his face and the dark crescents beginning to form under his eyes. Her own face was a mirror image of her son's exhaustion. Liam turned his head, eyes trained out the window. Jenna waited another moment in silence before shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.

The halls were the same as always: busy and bursting with energy. But today, the students seemed louder, and the halls felt more crowded. Liam cautiously navigated the over-cramped corridors, determined to reach Theo's locker quickly. Keeping his head down as he walked, Liam avoided eye contact with the other students. No one paid him any mind - there were no sideways glances or targeted whispers thrown his way - still, Liam was paranoid that if anyone looked at him too long, they would know what happened with the Sheriff.

Theo stood at his locker, his back was to Liam, but Liam felt lighter just seeing him. Corey and Mason stood across from Theo at the locker, talking animatedly. Mason was the first to spot Liam, words dying on his lips and hands frozen in the air as he caught sight of his best friend. Theo and Corey followed Mason's gaze, no one saying a word. Liam shifted under the weight of their stares, like a rare specimen in the zoo watching children press closer to the glass. After a moment, Mason resumed talking, and Liam took his spot between Corey and Theo.

"We’re coming with you tonight; Liam will agree with me," Mason said.

Liam adopted a casual tone as he shifted his gaze from Mason to Theo, posing the inevitable question, "What am I agreeing to?"

With an eye roll, Theo clarified, "Mason wants to babysit me when I meet with the hunters."

Mason seized the opportunity for a quip, "So you admit you need a babysitter?" Corey's attempt to stifle laughter with a cough failed spectacularly.

"We're obviously going with you," Liam asserted. "We're a pack; we deal with this together."

Theo looked like he was going to argue, lips parting around words he never actually said. He didn’t want to argue again, but Liam was curious as to what Theo would have said if he didn’t stop himself.

“We can stay invisible if it bothers you that much,” Corey offered, regaining Liam’s attention.

Theo considered the suggestion briefly before conceding, “No. One of the hunters knew what I was.” Theo took an intense interest with his shoes as he deliberated how to continue. “He knew I wasn’t human just by looking at me, almost like he could sense supernatural creatures.”

“How was he able to do that?” Corey asked, eyes darting wildly between Theo and Liam.

“He said he was an angel," Theo huffed. "like with wings, and a halo, and stuff.”

“Intense,” Mason said in awe.

"An angel?" Liam echoed incredulously. "Like an actual angel? Are those real?"

Theo shrugged, “I guess; I saw him use his powers, but that doesn’t mean he is what they say he is.” Theo remained unconvinced about Cas' status as an angel, having gone his whole life not believing in them.

“But he is powerful?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Theo nodded.

The morning bell rang, and students began their half- hearted shuffle into their various classes.

“That settles it; we’re going with you tonight,” Corey said. His tone held firm finality that was rare for the usually shy boy.

With the final bell ringing, the boys dispersed, Corey and Mason heading to chemistry, and Theo to econ, which led them in the same direction. However, Liam had history, leaving him to travel alone up the stairwell to the second floor.

On any other day, Liam would have been happy to go to history; he even considered himself lucky to start the day with his favourite class. Today was different. Today, he was too tired to care about classes. Liam was tapped of energy. He had been awake for nearly 48 hours, not finding time to sleep between school, practice, and ghost hunting. On top of that, in the last 12 hours, his emotions had been stretched thin and rung out. What little energy Liam had left was fueling his anxiety, creating a nauseating flutter like birds beating against his rib cage. Each step towards the history classroom echoed with the reminder that Liam should have stayed in bed.

Liam dropped into his seat, resigned to the fact that he would not be able to focus on the lesson today, but hopeful that he wouldn’t miss too much. That’s when he saw it. Waiting for Liam on the desk, was the test he had utterly forgotten about.

"Wonderful," Liam thought, his sarcasm punctuating the mental fatigue that clung to him.

Mr. Yukimura sat at his desk and signaled for the class to begin writing. Liam flipped open the first page and stared down at the questions. Pressure began to build behind his eyes, and there was a slight tightness in his temples; what started as a dull drumbeat would no doubt work its way up to an unbearable throbbing. Liam let his hand thud against the desk, his pen suddenly too heavy to hold up. Attempting to find Theo's heartbeat through the sea of noise in the school put a strain on Liam's already overstimulated mind. Liam dipped his head down slightly and shut his eyes. The overhead lights shone so bright Liam thought he could feel them even with his eyes closed.

Liam took a deep breath, pausing momentarily to feel his lungs expanding as he drew in the air. "The sun, the moon, the truth," he thought. When he exhaled, he imagined physically forcing the tension out of his body, repeating his mantra, "the sun, the moon, the truth," in his head.

Time didn't seem to pass as Liam focused deliberately on his breathing. He wasn't aware of how long it had been, only that he had finally started to feel a bit better; there was no more tense pounding in his head, and his limbs didn’t feel like led anymore. Liam finally opened his eyes just as Mr. Yukimura stood from his desk.

“Alright, class, pens down,” the teacher said.

A heavy sigh past Liam's lips, the sound laced with weariness. How had an hour gone by already? Liam absorbed yet another frustration from the seemingly unending onslaught. How much more disappointment could a single day hold? Liam flipped his test over, along with the other students, though he knew there would be no point. He shoved his chair back, a little harsher than necessary, as he stood and trudged to the door.

“Liam,” Mr. Yukimura called. “I’d like you to stay behind for a moment.”

Liam froze in place. He was stuck, watching the other students file around him and out the door, casting curious glances at him as they past. When the last student left, Mr. Yukimura shut the door; Liam vaguely heard the lock click into place, but his brain was working in overdrive trying to find an excuse for essentially sleeping through a test.

“Look, I know I messed up; I could do extra credit or like a makeup test or something.” Liam hated how whiny his voice sounded, but this was something he was good at. History and lacrosse were the only things he was good at, and now he had gone and messed that up too. He hated how whiny he sounded, but part of him didn’t care, the part of him that was so tired it would cry and beg to redo the test because he needed to be good at something. He needed to do well on this test because there was so much going on, and maybe if he could succeed on this test, then everything else wouldn’t seem so hard. The other part of Liam wanted to yell, to scream how awful this day was, and storm out of the room slamming the door behind him.

“Liam,” Mr. Yukimura said again, finally catching his attention. “Of course, you can make up the test; that’s not an issue.”

Liam was somewhat stunned by his teacher's statement. “Though with your grades, I’m sure you wouldn’t even need to.” Mr. Yukimura said with a friendly smile.

“Oh,” Liam said, “Thanks, sir, I really appreciate it.”

Mr. Yukimura’s smile faded; he kept looking at the door like he was scared someone was listening. “Don’t thank me yet; that wasn’t why I asked you to stay behind.”

Mr. Yukimura approached his desk and plucked a framed photo of Kira from its surface. Liam eyed the man skeptically as he removed the back from the small, silver frame. Hidden in the frame was a key. Any semblance of calm Liam had felt left his body in one fell swoop. Liam knew what that key was for. The boy watched as his history teacher unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and gently – almost reverently – removed a bundle of cloth. Liam moved closer to his teacher's desk nervously, as the man carefully unwrapped the cloth to reveal several shards of gleaming metal and a thin black hilt.

Liam starred at the remnants of Kira’s katana, keeping a safe distance from the broken blade. Liam didn’t think the weapon was of any threat to him, but he could feel a phantom shock sparking against his hands; an unsettling reminder of the day he shattered the sword.

“What are you doing with that?” Liam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Yukimura swiped his thumb over the black leather of the swords hilt. He didn’t meet Liam’s eye at first, but when he did he looked apologetic. “Kira is back,” He said, voice unwavering, “and she wants her sword.”

.......

As Liam hurried toward Theo's biology class, he pondered whether he would tell Theo about Kira. Liam didn't see Theo taking the news well, but ultimately, he deserved to know; Liam just had the misfortune of delivering the news.

When Liam was staring down the classroom threshold, it dawned on him that he had not considered what he would say to Ms. Finch. This whole plan was a hastily thrown-together idea at best if Liam was being honest. Ms. Finch's classroom door was open, as usual. Liam ambled past the open doorway with a deliberate pace, discreetly attempting to capture Theo's attention. Theo did not seem to notice Liam's admittedly ridiculous vie for attention. Liam retraced his path in front of the door, this time making deliberate eye contact with Theo. The latter quirked an eyebrow at Liam's antics but swiftly redirected his focus to the ongoing lesson.

In response, Liam let out a frustrated huff and stationed himself just outside the door, waving in a final attempt to capture Theo's attention.

Theo appeared to be mouthing "what?" from his seat, eyes darting between Liam and the front of the room, most likely where Ms. Finch was standing. Suddenly, the biology teacher's sour face was blocking Liam's vision.

“Mr. Dunbar, is there something I could help you with?” Ms. Finch asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

A pale pink flush dusted Liam's cheeks as he stuttered, "Umm, I need to talk to Theo."

Ms. Finch crossed her arms by way of response. A silent signal that this was not a good reason to interrupt her class.

"It's urgent," Liam added.

Ms. Finch pursed her lips but waved Theo out of the class nonetheless. Theo held Liam's eye as he collected his books and hurried out of the room. Liam had barely opened his mouth before Theo grabbed the crook of his elbow and dragged him several feet down the hall.

“What are you doing?” Theo asked.

“I needed to talk to you,” Liam repeated.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Theo deadpanned.

Despite the seriousness of the situation and the dark overtone the past few days had cast over their lives, Liam found himself smiling at Theo’s sarcasm.

Eventually, Lam's words came back to him, “We’re cutting class.”

“Why?” Theo asked.

Liam had not planned out an explanation. He often forgot he was the impulsive one between himself and Theo. Where Liam wanted to leap into action, most times without thinking, Theo was the one who brought strategy and logic to their dynamic.

Liam huffed, "Because we have to talk."

The non-explanation did not have Theo moving, but it did earn Liam another raised eyebrow.

“I hate when you do that,” Liam sputtered. “You and your eyebrow are not better than me.”

Theo laughed, and Liam felt warmth burst in his chest, radiating through him at the mirthful sound. "You're an idiot," Theo said, though there was no heat behind the words.

Theo's laugh was rare but infectious, and soon Liam found himself snickering too. "Just come with me," Liam said with a smile.

Liam grabbed Theo's sleeve and maneuvered towards the doors, pulling Theo along with him. Liam's grip remained tight on Theo’s sleeve as they walked through the quad, only letting go when they arrived at their usual table. He settled onto one side of the bench, his posture rigid, hands neatly folded on the table before him. Across from him, Theo took his seat in silence. Liam ran a hand through his hair before returning them to their place on the table.

A silence fell over the boys. The only sound was the faint crunching of grass beneath Liam's shoe, resulting from his leg's rhythmic bouncing that caused the grass to crumple repeatedly under his foot.

Theo's observation was keen. "Something’s bothering you," he remarked.

"Huh?" Liam responded, caught off guard. "You’re fidgety," Theo pointed out.

Liam couldn't deny it. "Yeah, I just have to"

"Talk to me, I know," Theo interrupted, finishing his sentence. "You haven’t actually been talking, though."

Liam smiled. "Yeah, uh, I just wanted to ask what happened after I left the preserve last night."

Theo nodded. "I followed the hunters to their motel." He raised a hand as Liam clenched his jaw. "Do not call me reckless; I'm the one with impulse control, remember?"

"Fair enough," Liam mumbled.

"They have a plan," Theo continued. He sensed Liam's tension and reassured him, "Don't worry, I've got this." He summarized, "They said they could use yarrow flowers and a purification ritual to break my connection to Tara." Theo folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, resting his chin on his forearm.

"Okay, that sounds low-risk enough," Liam said, relief evident in his voice. "That’s one less thing to worry about."

Theo chuckled, "Well, don't worry. I'm sure another problem will crop up soon enough." He leaned his head to the side, gazing up at Liam, using his arms as a makeshift pillow. Liam couldn't help but appreciate the peaceful moment; he hated to disrupt it, but he knew it would be worse if Theo heard it from someone else.

"Funny you should say that," Liam remarked, prompting a curious look from Theo.

"You're kidding, right?" Theo sighed, looking up at Liam through his eyelashes.

The sun made little golden strands appear in Theo’s hair. If Liam had to guess, he would think this was how Aphrodite felt when she first laid eyes on Adonis: startled by his captivating beauty and enamored by it all at once.

Liam pulled his lips into a tight line. "What now?" Theo inquired.

"Kira's in town, and she's putting her sword back together," Liam said morosely.

"Okay," Theo said, but his tone didn't match his rapidly tensing posture. He sat up straight, shoulders pulled back in a stiff line. "Well, you must be happy. You haven't seen her in a while."

It dawned on Liam that he hadn't felt happy at the news of Kira's return; instead, he was filled with dread.

"Yeah, I guess," Liam admitted. "Honestly, I'm just worried." He let his shoulders sag; he didn't need another thing to fret about.

"Kira's sword is my problem; you don't have to worry," Theo reassured, well-intentioned but inadvertently irritating Liam. When would Theo understand that Liam cared about him?

Liam clenched his jaw again. "Your problems are my problems."

Theo began to refute, but Liam cut him off. "No, not out of responsibility. I want your problems to be my problems."

Theo stayed silent, but the look on his face was inexplicably fond.

“Besides," Liam continued with a wry smile, "We can cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let's focus on the hunters you stupidly followed to a motel." Liam couldn't help but throw a playful jab at Theo, though it carried no real animosity.

"I've seen you jump on a demon horse, and you wanna call me stupid?" Theo teased back.

Liam was glad to see the tension melting out of Theo's posture. With seven more hours to spare before meeting the hunters, Liam welcomed the opportunity to ditch class and bask in the sun with Theo. They fell into their usual rhythm of easy banter, exchanging good-natured insults back and forth like normal teenagers.

Seven hours past in a flash, and before he knew it, Liam found himself in the passenger seat of Theo’s truck, waiting in the Moon Beam Inn's parking lot. Mason’s car eased to a stop, occupying the spot next to Theo’s truck. Theo was the first to exit the vehicle, striding straight to the door and rapping his knuckles against its surface. Liam stood at his side, with Mason and Corey a step behind them. Corey maintained a firm grip on Mason’s shoulder, ready to vanish if necessary.

Dean pulled open the door, eyeing the group, “The trick- or-treaters are here.”

The four boys past him, entering the motel room, Corey's hand still firmly on his boyfriend's shoulder.

The air in the room hung heavy with smoke, an aroma reminiscent of old incense that clung to the fabric of your clothes. Sam stood by the motel window, which only opened a crack, holding a little bundle of Yarrow flowers he’d set on fire over a small wooden bowl.

“Is that safe?” Corey asked skeptically.

“Not really,” Sam said casually, rotating the bundle in his hands and angling the fire away from him to prevent the growing flames from licking at his skin.

Liam squared his shoulders, “How does this ritual work?”

Theo almost laughed at the sight of Liam, who was 5’6”, trying to appear intimidating to a man who had to be more than six feet tall.

“Achillea Millefolium was used to stop bleeding; how is it gonna be helpful for a ghost?” Liam questioned.

Dean glanced knowingly between Theo and Liam, “You must be the history buff.”

“What?” Liam faltered.

"Nothing,” Theo said quickly. “The angel said they anoint me with the flower and do a protection spell.”

“Castiel,” Dean said.

Now it was Theo’s turn to ask, “What?”

“Castiel,” Dean repeated. “The angel's name is Castiel.”

Theo’s cheeks heated slightly; he tried hard not to feel like a child being scolded, giving Dean a nod of understanding.

“I’m about ready here,” Sam declared. Mason watched with intense curiosity as Sam crushed the burned flowers into ash. “We’re just waiting on Cas.”

A loud sound filled the room, like flags flapping in a windstorm. The motel door swung open again as Castiel entered, holding a small silver vial.

“Where’ve you been all day, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I had to retrieve something from the bunker; I had forgotten it,” Castiel explained.

“Let’s get this over with,” Theo urged.

Cas approached Theo, his angel blade slipping out of his sleeve and into his hand. “I need your blood,” Cas said far too casually.

Theo was apprehensive, but knowing he would heal quickly, he rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out to the man. Castiel punctured the skin of Theo’s wrist with his angel blade, creating a pinprick of contact. Though the blade pushed in deep enough to have droplets of blood pooling around its tip, Theo found himself surprisingly unbothered by the minimal pain.

At that moment, Theo realized two things: the blade puncturing his arm didn’t hurt at all, and someone's hand was wrapped around his other wrist. Glancing down, he saw Liam's hand gently holding his wrist, black veins crawling their way up Liam's arm. Theo followed the dark veins up to the pained grimace on Liam's face. Liam was taking his pain.

Cas withdrew the blade from Theo’s arm, turning his wrist over to collect the blood in the silver vial. Satisfied with the amount, he capped the vial and whispered, “Vivere aeternum.” The blood shimmered with a golden light before returning to its deep red color.

Theo watched the hole in his arm close, leaving a small white scar, then disappearing entirely. Liam did not let go of Theo’s wrist until the wound was completely healed. Even after he let go and the black veins faded from his skin, the pain seemed to stay with him. He looked paler, making the purple smudges under his eyes appear even darker.

Castiel moved to take the bowl of ashes from Sam, slipping the vial of blood into his pocket. Cas eyed the contents of the bowl, coating his thumb in the black dust before passing the bowl back to Sam.

Dean grabbed another wooden bowl, this one filled with a cloudy liquid. “You may want to stand back,” the older Winchester told Liam.

The beta wore a displeased expression but went to stand by the door with Corey and Mason. Sam shut the window and drew the curtains together.

“Ready Cas?” Dean asked. Cas only nodded in response.

Theo felt the cool liquid spilling over his head, soaking his hair and streaming down his face. Despite the urge to shut his eyes against the singing liquid, Theo couldn't tear his gaze away from Castiel.

The angel's eyes glowed with the familiar whitish-blue hue Theo remembered from the last time he had used his powers. This time, the lamps in the room were flickering uncontrollably, and cast over the motel wall was an enormous shadowed pair of wings.

It was breathtaking. Castiel's wings, or the shadow of his wings, spanned the entire length of the wall. Though slightly damaged with barren spots and feathers bearing charred edges, they radiated pure power. Theo reluctantly diverted his attention from the angel's wings to follow the ash-covered thumb tracing a runic symbol on his forehead.

“Defende nos!” Cas said.

The final drops of liquid drained from the bowl, trailing down Theo's face, then dripping onto his sweater and the carpeted floor.

“Defendatur!” The angel commanded. His eyes returned to their usual pale blue. Simultaneously, the shadowed wings vanished from the wall.

Sam and Dean worked together seamlessly tidying up, unphased by Castiel’s power or perhaps accustomed to it by now. Theo turned to find Liam, Mason, and Corey, each wearing matching expressions of shock and awe.

"Intense," Mason said, his jaw hanging open in amazement.

Dean returned to Cas’ side, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Castiel reached out towards Theo again, remembering not to touch the boy, hovering his hand over his heart. A light glow emanated from the angel's palm, reminiscent of moments earlier.

Theo felt the familiar warmth welling up in his chest, but otherwise he felt no different than before the ritual. Theo reasoned that he didn’t feel Tara’s connection to him in the first place, so maybe he wouldn’t feel its absence either. The warmth receded, as did the glow of Cas’s hand.

“It appears to have worked,” Castiel announced.

Unexpected relief washed over Theo. Pushing his wet hair from his face, he couldn't help the airy laugh escaping his lips. "It worked?" Theo repeated, still astonished.

Cas, giving no verbal response, offered Theo an awkward smile before moving to the bed closest to the door. Seating himself on the edge, the angel delved into one of the Winchester's leather-bound journals. Dean observed Cas with furrowed eyebrows, silently questioning.

Sam chuckled, hinting at his familiarity with the angel's lackluster social skills, and affectionately patted Theo's shoulder. “How do you feel?”

"Uh, fine, I guess," Theo replied. "I don't really feel different."

Liam approached him slowly, gently laying his hand on Theo's arm. “It didn’t hurt,” Theo reassured him quietly.

Liam nodded sluggishly but maintained his grip on Theo.

“How do we know it worked if Theo doesn’t feel different?” Mason inquired.

“A spiritual connection isn’t tangible to non-celestial beings,” Castiel explained, too engrossed in his reading to look up. Dean regarded Cas with a lingering apprehension before eventually turning his attention to Theo.

“We aren’t leaving town just yet,” Dean declared. “We’re gonna stick around a while longer; make sure everything is sorted out.”

Theo nodded appreciatively. “Thanks,” he expressed sincerely.

They exchanged awkward goodbyes with the Winchesters and Castiel, with the perfect excuse that they should be home before the mandated curfew. Once in the empty parking lot, Liam waved spiritlessly to Corey and Mason before settling into Theo's truck.

Mason's concerned gaze met Theo's, prompting a silent agreement. "Make sure he's okay," Mason insisted as he and Corey slid into their car.

Theo lingered outside the Winchesters' motel room, watching Mason drive off before climbing behind the wheel of his own truck.

Liam had his head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed. Needing to confirm his suspicions, Theo reached out, placing his hand against the exposed skin of Liam's neck, almost like he was checking his pulse. Black veins immediately began crawling up Theo’s arm; the immense pain caused Theo to wince.

Liam mumbled something inaudible and shifted out of Theo’s touch. Undeterred, Theo scooted closer on the bench seat, cupping the back of Liam's neck and enduring the pain as it transferred from Liam to himself.

“Don’t” Liam protested softly. That must have been what he said before.

“You’re in pain,” Theo said, refusing to move his hand.

Liam once again wriggled out of Theo’s grasp, prompting a frustrated huff from Theo. “What happened to ‘your problems are my problems’?” Theo asked.

Liam’s eyes remained shut, but Theo could sense the eye roll that would accompany them if they were open. Nonetheless, Liam shifted back towards Theo and allowed the older boy to alleviate some of his pain. When his head was clear enough to open his eyes again, Liam reached up and carefully tugged Theo's hand away from his neck, threading their fingers together instead.

"I’m ok,” Liam said, though his pale complexion and tired expression suggested otherwise.

Theo put the truck in gear and started towards Liam's house. Breaking driving laws was becoming a habit of Theos as he drove with only one hand on the wheel, the other still intertwined with Liam’s.

.......

When only Dean, Sam, and Cas remained in the room, Dean voiced the concern that had been eating away at him. "You didn't use the blood,” he pointed out with a discerning gaze. "It wasn't part of the ritual,"

Cas held Dean's stare, he should have assumed Dean would catch onto his unusual behavior. After all, as Cas himself put it, they shared a "profound bond."

Sam shot the angel a puzzled look. "If it wasn't part of the ritual, what was it for?" he inquired.

Cas regarded the Winchester brothers with a solemn expression. "It's a fail-safe," he revealed. This was only met with further confusion from Sam and Dean. "I fear that the boy will die."

"Die? What do you mean he's gonna die? Didn't you break the link?" Dean asked urgently.

"I dulled it," Cas clarified.

"What does that mean?" Sam pressed for an explanation.

"The heart is Tara’s; I cannot fully remove her connection to it. All I can do is dull the strength of the connection," Castiel explained.

"So, what do we do now? We can't let the kid die," Dean said.

"Does this mean Tara’s spirit is still in the preserve?" Sam questioned.

"Potentially," Castiel admitted. "There is a chance the ritual worked as intended, but I have no way to be sure."

"Okay, we need to go back to the woods and make sure no one dies tonight," Dean decided. "Then you can explain this fail-safe."

Cas and Sam nodded in agreement, and the three men swiftly gathered their weapons and piled into the Impala.

Thursday afternoon brought crisp autumn air that carried the scent of rain and fallen leaves as they rustled gently in the breeze. The sky was a soft canvas of pale blue adorned with wispy clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon.

Theo sat in the stands of the lacrosse field, his gaze fixed intently on the players below, searching out number nine. His math homework, which he brought to keep him busy as he waited for Liam, sat forgotten in his lap as he watched the practice unfold. The rhythmic thud of lacrosse sticks striking against the ball echoed across the field, accompanied by the shouts and calls of the players.

Theo was wrapped in his hoodie, the sleeves slightly too tight around his arms. His cheeks were flushed with the chill of the October air, but his eyes sparkled with new- found hope as he followed the fast-paced action on the field. Occasionally, he would lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Liam made another impressive play.

Liam scooped the ball out of the dewy grass; his agility and skill were on full display as he effortlessly bypassed the defenders and executed a flawless shot. Coach Finstock’s voice rang out across the field, filled with excitement and pride as he shouted, "That's what I'm talking about, Dunbar!" Theo couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he watched, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

For once, Theo felt calm. He was optimistic that Sam and Dean's idea had worked and that maybe his future could be like this: quiet afternoons and moments with Liam. Hope seemed like a distant idea to Theo before, like it was for everyone else but him. Yet, as the sun dipped low, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, he started to believe that hope wasn't impossible for him after all.

Mason settled into the empty seat beside Theo, his school bag hitting the bench with a thud. Theo glanced at Mason, feeling awkward as they rarely spent time alone.

"Corey's been great lately," Theo offered casually. "Liam's the only one who's managed to get past him."

Mason smirked, "Can't Liam cut him some slack?"

Theo chuckled, shaking his head. "Have you met Liam?"

Mason chuckled dryly, pulling his school bag closer to him on the floor. Theo sensed Mason's nervousness and tried to figure out what might be bothering him, aside from Theo's own presence. Their friendship was tentative at best, born from their mutual closeness to Liam. Theo understood Mason's wariness towards him, but he had been trying to prove himself trustworthy; he thought he had been making progress. Leaning forward again, Theo watched as Corey completely missed the incoming shot, the ball sailing into the net. The goalkeeper's attention seemed to be on the stands rather than the practice he was currently occupied with.

"Bryant! What the hell was that?!" Coach bellowed. "My grandmother would have seen that ball coming, and she’s dead!"

"Sorry, Coach," Corey muttered, tearing his gaze away from Mason and focusing on the next shot heading his way.

Mason, seemingly oblivious to his distracting presence, rummaged through his school bag, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Theo.

"Could I ask you a favor?" Mason finally inquired.

Theo was suddenly glad Mason could not sense his emotions. He managed to plaster on a friendly-looking smile, masking any trace of distressed shock. "Uh, sure,"

Theo replied hesitantly, curious about what Mason needed help with.

"Well, I asked Liam, but he said I should come to you instead," Mason began to explain, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Honestly, Liam probably wouldn't be much help anyway, and—"

"Mason," Theo interrupted gently, "What do you need?"

Mason sighed, "Can I borrow your biology notes?"

Theo exhaled, relieved. "That's it? Yeah, you can borrow my notes. Liam does it all the time."

Theo retrieved his notes from his school bag and handed them over to Mason. As Mason began copying notes into his book and correcting the various mistakes in his homework, he seemed to relax a bit.

"You're right," Theo joked. "Liam is terrible at biology."

Mason laughed easily this time. "At least we have you. Your notes are better than Mrs. Finch’s lessons."

Theo savored the compliment; he was happy to be helpful. But still feeling the need to downplay his talents as if they were insignificant, he scoffed, "Yeah, well, I'm glad my childhood trauma is useful to you guys."

"It really is," Mason replied sarcastically, looking up to meet Theo’s eye. "Imagine if the Dread Doctors were obsessed with modern art? Then we’d all be failing."

Theo was taken aback by Mason's comment. Although he had initiated the first joke and often tried to make light of the sensitive topic, Theo hadn't expected Mason to join in the laughter about his trauma. Theo laughed nervously, aware that Mason wouldn't recognize the difference between that and a genuine one.

"Yeah," Theo agreed, trying to shake off the awkwardness from Mason's comment. He kept his tone light as he attempted to redirect the conversation. "But hey, speaking of failing, look at poor Nolan over there trying to catch the ball. It's like watching a Stormtrooper try to aim."

Mason raised an eyebrow, surprised by Theo's reference. "Wait, you're into Star Wars?"

Theo grinned, relieved that Mason seemed to be on board with the change in topic. "Uh, yeah, I mean, who isn't?"

"Liam!" Mason exclaimed in frustration. "I've been trying to get him to watch Star Wars with me since we were like five; he's still only seen A New Hope."

Theo smirked at Mason's predicament. "Well, that's your problem; you're trying," he teased, "Do or do not. There is no try."

"Oh my god, did Theo Raeken just quote Yoda?" he laughed, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Theo chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I've got a thing or two up my sleeve." He paused, then admitted, "Actually, I haven't seen Episode III."

Mason's eyes widened in mock horror. "You haven't seen 'Revenge of the Sith'? Theo, that is a criminal offense!”

Theo couldn't help but grin at Mason's theatrical reaction. “It’s not like I had the time,” he defended himself with a shrug.

Mason immediately adopted a determined expression, like he had uncovered a grave injustice. “We need to fix this immediately,” he declared emphatically. After a brief pause, a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "You know, Theo, maybe you could help me out with Liam. How about this? You have a prequels marathon"

Theo raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Mason's suggestion.

"—Liam is incapable of saying no to you, so he’ll finally watch Star Wars, and you’ll get to watch 'Revenge of the Sith' for the first time. That way, we all win."

“Except Liam,” Theo interjected dismissively, though he did like the idea.

“Please we’d be doing him a favor,” Mason laughed. “Liam is my best friend but he has no taste in movies.”

Theo shook his head, unconvinced even in the face of Mason’s certainty. Before he could actually respond, his phone buzzed with an unexpected text from an unknown number.

As Theo read the message, a sinking feeling settled in his chest, dragging his hope back into the realm of impossibility. Theo stared at the message on his screen: 'Hey kid, this is Dean. We need to talk.' The abruptness of the message sent a shiver down his spine, his mind racing with a thousand questions and fears.

The arrival of a text on Mason's phone screen only added to the sense of foreboding.

"Oh, this is not good," Mason muttered, angling his phone so Theo could see. The screen displayed a video of the Sheriff addressing a sea of reporters, with Deputy Parrish and the Winchester brothers flanking him.

"It’s with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today to tell you there has been another murder," Stilinski announced solemnly. "At 11pm last night, the body of 17-year-old Tyler Valez was discovered in the Beacon Hills Preserve."

Immediately, the dozens of reporters began shouting questions over one another. Sheriff Stilinski held up both his hands to silence the crowd. “I am not taking any questions at this time. We have assembled you here to release a witness statement and a description of the suspect.”

The drawing, prominently displayed in the video, bore a striking resemblance to Tara, exactly as she appeared in Theo’s dreams.

"The suspect is female, approximately 5’7”, and appears to be about 20 years old," Stilinski continued. "Witnesses described her as wearing the bones of animals around her chest. Her clothes are disheveled and covered in blood. If spotted, do not engage. Call 9-1-1 immediately."

One reporter's question was heard over the crowd, asking if they knew the girl's identity.

"We have no further information at this time," Stilinski replied wearily before retreating into the station with Parrish and the Winchesters trailing behind.

As Mason's phone screen faded to black, he voiced what both of them were thinking. "I thought the ritual worked."

"So did I," Theo admitted, his voice heavy with disappointment. It seemed hope wasn't meant for him after all.

Theo was so engrossed in watching the Sheriff's video on Mason's phone that he hadn't even realized lacrosse practice had ended. It wasn’t until he heard Liam’s voice that he even looked up from the blank screen of Mason’s phone.

"Everything okay?" Liam asked, his helmet tucked under his arm as he pushed sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Theo glanced up, momentarily taken aback by Liam's sudden appearance. "Uh..." Mason started to respond, but Theo quickly interjected, "Everything's fine."

Mason shot Theo a skeptical look, but he didn't press further. "I should go find Corey," he said instead, giving Liam a pat on the back as he past by.

"You sure you're okay?" Liam asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, just... thinking about something Mason said," Theo replied, trying hide his worry.

"He didn't say anything bad about you, did he?" Liam asked urgently, immediately jumping to Theo's defense.

"Huh?" Theo was momentarily confused. "No, he said we should watch Star Wars," he said, offering a half- truth.

Liam sighed dramatically. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you two would gang up on me."

"Well, I haven't seen 'Revenge of the Sith,' and Mason said that was unacceptable," Theo joked lightly.

"Oh, really?" Liam chuckled. "So why don't you and Mason watch it together then?"

Theo shrugged. "Two birds, one stone, and all that."

Liam rolled his eyes, but his expression softened into a smile.

"Come on" Theo teased, poking Liam in the chest. "Join the dark side."

Liam grinned. "Fine, I'll watch your dumb space movies."

"Tonight then," Theo suggested.

Liam's heart swooped at the suggestion, overjoyed that Theo seemed to be getting more comfortable with him.

"Okay, tonight," Liam agreed. He pushed his hair out of his face again. "I have to grab my stuff from the locker room. Will you still be here when I get back?"

"Of course," Theo said.

Theo's internal debate raged on as he watched Liam leave, torn between the desire for support and the fear of burdening his friend. Liam had every right to know that the ritual hadn’t worked, and Theo wondered if he had made the right decision keeping the information to himself. He imagined Liam's reaction, the furrowed brow, the heavy weight settling back on his shoulders, the worry and fear in his eyes; Liam didn’t deserve that.

In the end, Theo decided to spare Liam the weight of this burden, at least for now.

.......

The locker room was nearly empty by the time Liam reached it. The sounds of shower water hitting the tiles echoed off the walls as Liam hastily changed out of his lacrosse gear. Liam shoved his equipment haphazardly into his locker, exchanging it for his gym bag and towel. Liam pulled his team hoodie over his head and slid his sneakers on, opting to shower at home.

He hadn’t expected anyone to be waiting for him, and he certainly hadn’t expected Kira to be waiting for him. As he turned the corner, the towel slung over his shoulder, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her standing there, arms folded tightly across her chest. Liam’s eyes were drawn to the gleaming silver belt hanging around her waist; Kira had already put her sword back together.

Her expression was cold and determined, something so out of place from the Kira Liam remembered.

"Kira," he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in his chest. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Kira's gaze bore into him, unwavering. "We need to talk, Liam," she said, her voice low and serious. "About Theo."

Liam's stomach twisted with apprehension. He should have known this would happen. He should have known Kira would only be putting her sword back together for one reason.

"What about him?" Liam asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though he knew it was futile.

Kira took a step closer, her eyes flashing orange with intensity. “He needs to go back, Liam."

“Kira this isn’t his fault! Tara was the one killing people,” Liam whispered harshly, careful not to alert any remaining teammates of their conversation.

“Tara is only here because of Theo,” Kira insisted.

“We got rid of her!” Liam said, fists clenching at his sides.

“Did you?” Kira asked with a tilt of her head. “Tyler Valez was killed in the preserve last night. He was a skinwalker.”

Liam hadn’t known there was another murder, they had been so sure the ritual worked, but he ignored that in favour of defending Theo. “That’s why you’re here? Because a skinwalker was killed?”

“The skinwalkers want retribution; he was one of our own,” Kira said.

“One of your own?” Liam asked indignantly. “I thought we were your own, we’re your pack.”

Kira’s expression softened like she only just remembered that Liam used to be her friend. “I haven’t been part of the pack in a long time, Liam, I think you know that.”

“Theo is innocent,” Liam said desperately, “I won’t send him back there.”

Kira nodded gravely, “Do the right thing, Liam. Or I will.” Kira's parting words hung heavy in the air as she left.

Liam turned on his heel slamming his fist into the nearest locker, denting the metal. Liam's heart sank. He knew Kira was serious, knew she would follow through on her threat if he didn't do something—and soon. With trembling hands, he reached for his phone, fingers flying over the screen as he dialed Scott's number, praying for help, for guidance, for anything.

But Scott didn't answer, and Liam felt more hopeless than ever.

The air seemed heavier now, standing alone in the empty locker room. The weight of it pressed down on Liam like it was trying to crush him, yet another burden thrust upon his shoulders - but he refused to buckle under their weight. The usual echoes of chatter and laughter that filled the space were absent, leaving behind nothing but the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional sound of water droplets colliding with slick tiles.

Liam stared at his phone screen, glaring at the dozens of unanswered calls to Scott and Stiles. Their names repeated, over and over, in an angry red font like an accusation, a testament to Liam's growing frustration and desperation. Scott had told him once that he needed to be Clark Kent: to go out and pretend that everything was ok, even when Superman was falling apart. Maybe that worked for Scott, but Liam never cared much for Superman. If Scott expected him to shoulder the burdens of the world alone, to carry the responsibility of protecting this town singlehandedly, then so be it. Liam would be Atlas. He would bear the weight of their troubles upon his shoulders, even as the strain threatened to crush him under its relentless pressure.

Liam steeled his expression, determined to formulate a plan before telling Theo of his sister's persistent haunting of the preserve and the added threat Kira and the Skinwalkers posed. Theo was waiting by the bleachers, right where Liam had left him. A despairing look clouded Theo's features, which Liam would have sworn was not there when he left. But the look vanished, replaced with a smile, as soon as Liam came

into Theo's view. Liam knew he couldn't lie to Theo forever, even if only a lie of omission. Sooner or later, Theo would realize something was wrong, so Liam decided to bid his time as best he could.

Liam made a dramatic display of balancing his school bag on one shoulder and his lacrosse bag on the other. "You're not even gonna offer to help? Chivalry really is dead," he joked.

Theo laughed sarcastically, "Right, I forgot. Hayden mentioned how insistent you were that she never carry her school bag."

Liam was caught between flushing with embarrassment that Hayden would talk to Theo about him and quelling the little hopeful spark fluttering in his chest at Theo's comparison of their relationship to his relationship with Hayden.

Despite his comment, Theo reached out to remove the lacrosse bag from Liam's shoulder as the pair crossed the parking lot. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself; your back shots are already terrible."

"Excuse me?" Liam balked, tossing his backpack into the backseat of Theo's truck. "My back shots are amazing, and I'd like to see you do better."

Theo smiled challengingly, "Time and place, little wolf." Theo swung the driver's side door shut while moving the stick shift into gear as if that would somehow emphasize his point.

"Please," Liam teased, "pre-chimera powers, you wouldn't make it through half of the practice without an inhaler. But I can, and have, out-played a true alpha without any supernatural assistance."

"Touche," Theo conceded, more caught up in where Liam would have heard that Theo had an inhaler as a child and why he remembered something so trivial, especially since it was practically irrelevant now.

Liam could hardly stop talking the entire way home, which Theo would have questioned if he didn't find it so endearing.

"What if lightsabers had a low battery warning, like phones?" Liam asked.

"What?" Theo laughed.

"Imagine, you're in the middle of a battle, and your lightsaber only had 20 percent battery left!?"

"You don't charge lightsabers, Liam." Theo smiled.

"Oh," Liam replied before launching into another nonsensical question.

When they arrived at the Dunbar-Geyer residence, Theo moved to retrieve Liam's lacrosse bag, giving Liam a pointed look as he did so. Theo's school bag remained in the backseat, along with his skateboard, which Liam forbade Theo from ever bringing into the house after David expressed his interest in learning to ride it.

Theo followed Liam inside and allowed himself to be ushered into the living room. Liam reached over to take his lacrosse bag back from Theo, the pads of his fingers skimming across Theo's knuckles as he did so.

"I'll be right back," Liam said warmly. "Make yourself comfortable."

Theo was left dumbstruck, standing on the threshold of Liam's living room, as the boy in question bounded up the stairs. 'Make yourself comfortable,' Theo thought as he stood there awkwardly. He could not very well be comfortable, considering he'd always felt out of place

in Liam's home, a sense that he didn't belong, and where was the comfort in that?

Despite the feeling of not belonging, the room had a warm and inviting atmosphere, much like the Dunbar- Geyer family themselves. The walls were painted a light shade of beige, which Liam considered boring, as far as paint colours go, but Theo liked it. He liked that the paint seemed to glow like amber when the sunlight hit it just right. He liked that they were somewhat plain; they didn't steal attention away from the array of family photos decorating the wall above the plush grey couch. There was a lot Theo liked about this room, in fact. He liked that the trim around the mantle piece still had the markings Jenna and David made to record Liam's height. He liked the chipped coffee table that Liam had accidentally hit with his first lacrosse stick.

It made Theo feel nostalgic.

Though, he thought vaguely that nostalgia wasn't the right term. How could he be nostalgic for memories he doesn’t have?

Hiraeth.

The word came to him in a grating metallic voice. Machines whirring, copper gloves clicking unnaturally: the cold voice of the Pathologist coming to diagnose Theo even in death. Homesickness. Theo translated to himself, but still, that wasn't right. Theo racked his brain trying to find an answer.

Inconsequential

"Not to me," Theo muttered to himself, even though he knew the Pathologist could not hear him.

Theo was pulled from his daze by the sound of footsteps. The sound of the shower running and the footsteps carrying the telling clack of high heels informed Theo that this was not Liam.

"Theo, it's nice to see you!" Jenna said as she fiddled with her earring. She wore a simple but elegant green dress.

"Hi, Ms. Dunbar. Nice to see you too," Theo replied politely.

"Please, honey, you can call me Jenna," she replied sweetly. Theo was never quite sure how to act around Liam's parents. According to Liam, his parents adored Theo, and Theo, for the life in him, could not figure out why.

"Right, sorry," Theo said with a small smile.

"Theo, how is Deaton treating you?" Came David's voice from the top of the stairs. Theo noted that his tie was the same shade of green as his wife's dress.

"It's great," Theo replied honestly. Working for the veterinarian had been an incredible opportunity, allowing Theo to see his love of biology in a positive light.

Soon enough, Liam came hopping down the stairs, hair wet and a box of DVDs in hand. Jenna reached up to run a hand through the damp strands of Liam's hair, tutting disapprovingly. "You need to dry your hair, sweetheart."

Liam rolled his eyes, leaning away from his mother's hand with all the intensity of a disgruntled kitten. Bidding his parents goodbye and good luck at their dinner with the neighbours, whom they secretly disliked, Liam moved toward the TV to put in the first DVD.

"You have Star Wars on DVD?" Theo asked, amused. He settled onto the couch, slightly more at ease now, tension giving way to excitement to watch his favourite movies again.

"Stiles gave them to me before he and Scott left for college," Liam said, the main menu appearing on the screen above him.

"Oh," Theo said. "Sorry, I know you miss them."

Liam shrugged it off, an odd sense of frustration emanating from the gesture. But when Liam stood up and looked at Theo, he smiled warmly, any trace of frustration fading away as he settled onto the couch next to Theo and pressed play.

Episode One went smoothly. Liam enjoyed the movie more than he thought he would, something he would never admit to Theo, and even found himself getting quite attached to Obi-wan Kenobi. Although, more than once, Liam caught himself watching Theo more than he was watching the movie. He couldn't help it; it was rare to see Theo happy, let alone this happy. His eyes alight with pure joy. Liam would watch Star Wars every day for the rest of his life if it meant seeing that look on Theo's face.

Before starting the second movie, Liam declared they were taking a much-needed pizza break. "You didn't tell me these things were three hours," he'd complained half- heartedly. Theo used that time to answer Liam's many questions, something that made him happier then it probably should have.

"How is a 10-year-old the Queen of a whole planet?" Liam asked incredulously.

"She's fourteen," Theo laughed.

"Is that supposed to be better?"

"Padmé is a great Queen and much smarter than most people in the Republic," Theo defended.

Liam raised his hands in mock surrender, and the pair lapsed into silence as the second movie began. Padme had been one of Theo's favourite characters as a child; he found her dedication to her people, strength, and courage compelling. Years later, the young Queen of Naboo remained one of Theo's favourite characters.

Yet again, the credits began to roll across the screen, and Theo returned his attention to Liam.

"You still awake over there?" Theo asked, poking Liam's shoulder gently.

Liam nodded with an unintelligible sound before falling forward and burying his head against Theo's chest. Theo tensed slightly at the contact, mentally kicking himself as Liam pulled back.

“Sorry,” Liam said, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I know physical contact isn’t your thing, and I can be a bit touchy.”

“What?” Theo asked, taken aback. He had never told Liam, or anyone else, that he sometimes struggled with physical touch.

“I know you don’t really like to be touched, and I’m overly affectionate, and sometimes I forget to tone it down," Liam said. "I don’t always think about it. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, you can tell me. You should tell me.”

Theo was stunned. "You're not overly affectionate, Liam," Theo reassured. “And it doesn’t bother me, not all the time anyway. It just surprises me.”

Liam waited patiently in silence, the mere inches separating him from Theo, an unspoken apology for the boundary he believed he crossed. The space, though small, felt significant, a symbol of Liam's care for Theo's comfort.

The grandfather clock chimed 11 times, each chime echoing through the otherwise silent house, startling Theo from his stupor. Jenna and David must have returned home at some point during the second movie, Theo realized distantly, surprised that he hadn't heard their arrival. The room was dark, save for the bluish glow of the TV screen. Shadows danced over the walls, most of the light hitting Liam's face, leaving an angelic hue on his pale skin.

“Some days are harder than others, but when it's you, it’s different,” Theo confessed, his voice softening.

Liam decided to push a little further. “What makes me different?”

Theo subtly supressed his chemo-signals, a small gesture reserved for Liam, even though it was rarely necessary.

“You’re just... you, Liam,” Theo replied, frustration lacing his words as he struggled to articulate his feelings.

Liam looked puzzled, prompting Theo to sigh and tip his head back, opting to stare at the ceiling rather than meet Liam's gaze.

“You’re good, Liam. You’re a hero,” Theo asserted softly. “You're my favorite person, and I know I’m safe with you. I feel safe with you."

The admission hung heavily in the minimal space between them. When Liam said nothing, Theo continued. “Being close to you has never bothered me. Now, can we please put on the movie so I don't have to talk about this anymore?"

Liam remained silent but got up to put in the final movie nonetheless. Theo waited anxiously as Liam navigated the main menu of Episode Three and finally pressed play. The familiar Star Wars theme enveloped the room, providing a comforting backdrop as Theo occupied his mind with reading the text on screen.

Returning to his spot, Liam curled up against Theo's side, resting his head on the older boy's chest. He looked up, momentarily meeting Theo's eye, like asking for permission or waiting for Theo to shove him away. Neither happened; Theo simply draped his arm over Liam's side and considered the matter resolved.

“You’re a hero too, you know,” Liam murmured. "I know you don't believe it, but it's true."

Theo looked down to where Liam’s blue eyes were waiting to meet his. They stared at each other briefly. "Liam-" Theo began.

"No," Liam cut in. "It's true, Theo. Doing heroic things makes you a hero. And even if you don't believe that, you should at least know that you're my favorite person too!"

Liam's gaze didn't waver, his eyes a darkened storm of determination, as Theo searched for something to say. The words finally came to him; they were not nearly as profound as their conversation had been, but it was so distinctly 'them'.

"I'm telling Mason you said that," Theo finally said, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Liam rolled his eyes and nudged Theo's ribs with his elbow. “Asshole,” he muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips.

Theo chuckled, pulling Liam closer as they settled in to watch the final movie, their laughter mingling with the familiar sounds of blaster fire.

Good, Anakin, good. Kill him... kill him now.

I shouldn’t

Do it!

You are on this council, be we do not grant you the title of master.

I will do... whatever... you ask, just please help me save Padme’s life.

Master Skywalker. There are too many of them. What are we going to do?

Anakin... you’re breaking my heart!

Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil!

From my perspective, the Jedi are evil!

Well, then you are lost!

Where is Padme? Is she safe? Is she all right?

It seems in your anger, you killed her.

Dean's voice eventually faded, and he looked at Theo, waiting for him to resurface from a sea of thoughts.

Theo offered a placating smile. "Jack sounds like a great kid," he said, hoping to keep the focus off himself.

Dean nodded, his eyes softening. "Yeah, he is." An uneasy silence settled between them, both men waiting for the other to speak first.

Theo rolled a rock beneath his foot, tracing invisible circles in the dirt. Whatever Dean wanted to discuss, he could bring it up himself or let it go. Theo was hoping for the latter.

"So, you gonna tell me what had you driving like a bat out of hell?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual. Theo grimaced at the choice of words, though Dean seemed to regret them too.

"Just a panic attack," Theo muttered.

"You get those often?" Dean inquired gently.

Theo didn’t answer. Instead, he deflected, "Why were you driving the backroads in the middle of the night?"

"Looking for you," Dean admitted, sipping his drink. "You’ve been avoiding my calls."

"Tara’s still out there. What else can I say?" Theo replied, his frustration evident. The plan hadn’t worked. There was nothing left to do except give Tara what she wanted.

"I was just worried," Dean said cautiously. "Thought I might find you at the preserve."

Dean listened to the crunch of gravel beneath Theo's foot. It was a loaded statement, and they both knew it. Theo clenched and unclenched his jaw, searching for something to say that would dispute Dean’s suspicions. Ultimately, he came up with nothing. Theo would sacrifice himself; there was no sugar-coating it, but nothing would change his mind. Could it even be called a sacrifice? A villain dying for his sins?

"Why would I," Theo huffed, but Dean interrupted him.

"I know that look, kid," Dean said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I've been the guy determined to make the sacrifice play."

Theo bristled, feeling defensive. He was nothing like Dean; the hunter should see that.

"It's not the same," he replied tightly. "We can find another way," Dean urged. “There is no other way,” Theo insisted.

“There’s always another way,” Dean countered. “You gotta get out of this town, kid. It’s not good for you. All that crap Stilinski said about you—it’s getting to you, but I don’t believe any of it.”

“You did,” Theo spat. It may have been petty, unfair even, but it was true. As helpful as Dean had been, there had been that moment where he thought Theo was capable of every atrocity the Sheriff said he committed.

“You’re right, I did,” Dean admitted. “I’m a cynic at heart. Sometimes, that only lets me see the bad in people—ask Sammy; he knows better than anyone. But I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Theo was taken aback, not just by Dean admitting he was wrong, but by the fact that he apologized. Still, Dean’s initial impression of Theo hadn't been entirely off; Theo was all the things Sheriff Stilinski had warned him about.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Theo said sadly. “You don’t know what I did.”

How much had the Sheriff told him? Would he still be defending Theo if he knew the truth? Would Dean still look at him like they were the same? Like Theo could be redeemed?

“Actually, I do,” Dean said.

The rock beneath Theo’s shoe halted mid-roll, echoing like a record scratch. Theo looked up at Dean, studying the hardened lines on his face, more world-weary than a man his age should be. Dean's expression didn't flicker, nor did his heartbeat. He wasn’t lying.

“Stilinski showed me the file he put together,” Dean said in the ensuing silence. "It's got everything since you came back to Beacon Hills and a little from when you were a kid, too.

“So, you know,” Theo said.

“I know you were manipulated; I know you were experimented on.” Theo flinched at Dean's words, but the hunter continued, desperate to make the boy see he was not a monster. “I know no one was there for you; they didn’t even try to help you!” Dean’s voice was angry, but Theo could tell the anger was not directed at him. “I know you’ve been through hell.”

“Stop it,” Theo finally bit back. “That doesn't change anything. I need to do what’s right.”

Dean crossed his arms, skeptical but curious. "And what's right involves you getting yourself killed?"

"It's not like I want to die," Theo gritted out.

"Well, you're not acting like you want to live either," Dean replied.

"Maybe I don't!" Theo shouted, the gravity of his own words hitting him hard. "I don't want to die," he continued, his voice trembling. "But I don't want to live either. Not like this, not anymore."

Theo felt trapped in a suffocating limbo. The thought of death whispered to him, offering a tempting escape from his torment. Yet, deep down, a fragile ember of hope flickered, a sliver of light that kept him tethered to life. The prospect of extinguishing that last bit of hope terrified him, leaving him paralyzed between the agonies of his existence and the fear of the unknown.

Dean's expression softened, a pained look crossing his face. "Like this?" he asked gently.

"Always running from my past, trying to convince people I've changed," Theo said, bitterness lacing his tone, along with something that sounded like exhaustion. "I shouldn't even be here! Liam brought me back because he needed my help; because I was useful!"

"And you don't think he'd have something to say about this?" Dean interjected. “He clearly cares about you. Even if he brought you back because he had to for some higher purpose, it's more than that now. He cares about you, and that means something.” Dean said, and it suddenly struck him that he was no longer only talking about Liam and Theo. “Someone who is using you, wouldn’t look at you like that.”

Theo was momentarily curious what ‘looks’ the hunter thought he saw, but he didn’t allow himself the time to dwell on it. “He’ll get over it,” Theo said, though even he doubted that sentiment. “I’m doing this for him, okay?”

“Cause you love him?” Dean asked.

Theo’s jaw locked. “What difference does it make!?” Theo laughed bitterly. "I barely deserve his friendship, and I definitely don't deserve his love, so it doesn’t matter.”

Dean took a deep breath, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "I know what it's like to carry that kind of guilt. To feel like you're never going be good enough. But sacrificing yourself isn't the answer. It's a way out, not a way forward."

Theo looked away, his resolve unwavering. "I'm not even supposed to be here,” he repeated. “Tara wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I was dead. I'm just going back to where I belong."

That seemed to strike a chord with Dean. "You do not belong in that place!"

Theo said nothing. He kicked the small rock he’d been toying with and listened to it swish through the air and land with a thud beside his truck. Dean took a commanding step forward, placing a hand gently on Theo’s shoulder. The touch didn’t cause Theo to recoil. He trusted Dean. For some inexplicable reason, Theo felt safe with Dean, and he hated himself a little bit more for it.

“Theo, listen to me,” Dean said sternly, desperately, imploringly. “I know what it's like to feel like there's no way out, to feel like this is the only way to make it all better. But it’s not. I promise you, it’s not.”

Theo shook his head mutely.

“You are not your past, you are not the monster Stilinski thinks you are, and you are not the ‘perfect killer’ those bastards tried to make you,” Dean’s grip tightened on Theo’s shoulder. “You made it right. You made it right by staying, by fighting. You made it right by proving every day that you are good. Okay? You are good, Theo. You just need to believe it.”

"I don't know if I can," Theo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You can," Dean said firmly. "And you don't have to do it alone. Liam believes in you. I believe in you. That counts for something."

Theo met Dean's eyes, searching for the truth in his words. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

Because I was you, Dean doesn’t say. "Maybe because I've been where you are. And because I know nothing will get better if you have no future."

Part of Theo believed Dean, the tiny ember of hope buried in the darkness of his chest; it believed him. But the other part, the louder, darker part that too often won over the hope smothering it anew, had made up its mind.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Theo said. “I have to do this. I have to make it right. This is the only way we know will work.”

Dean's eyes narrowed, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice. "Fine, I know when I’m fighting a losing battle. But, if I can't stop you, you should talk to Liam; at the very least he would want to say goodbye."

Theo hesitated, the suggestion catching him off guard. "What difference would it make?"

"A lot," Dean said. "Maybe more than you think. He looks at you the way he does for a reason. At least say goodbye."

After a long pause, Theo finally nodded. "Alright."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Good. You owe him that much,” Dean said, silently praying that Liam's words might succeed where he had failed.

Dean reluctantly let go of Theo’s shoulder as the teen reached for his keys. Dean coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, the familiar feeling of helplessness and grief. He put on a brave face and said, “Sit, finish your drink, I’ll get your truck out of this ditch.”

“You don’t have to,” Theo began. “Least I can do.”

Theo gave up his keys with little protest, which Dean found surprising but did not comment on. Dean sat behind the wheel, glancing into the rear-view mirror. He noticed Theo tracing circles into the dirt with the toe of his shoe, then the blanket and pillow shoved haphazardly in the backseat.

The lump in Dean's throat worsened at that. He thought of his nights spent in the Impala, the lonely years he spent hunting, tracing the carving of his and Sam's initials in the door. Eventually, the nights weren’t so lonely, but they were still often spent in the Impala, him in the front and Sammy sprawled across the backseat.

In a split-second decision, Dean pulled his cell phone from his pocket, switched it to silent mode, and slipped it between the seats. With the truck back on the road, there was no more delaying letting Theo go, as much as it pained Dean to do so. “I know I can’t change your mind, but think about what I said, okay? You deserve better than this.”

“Thanks,” Theo said softly.

Dean watched him go. He watched until the truck's taillights faded into the darkness, and the only proof that Theo had even been there were the circles he’d traced into the dirt. There was one small circle with a larger one around it.

Reaching for the can of Coke he’d left on the hood of the Impala, Dean raised his hand to drain the remaining drops. The sweet liquid turned to ash on his tongue, making his craving for alcohol worse. Dean took a rattling breath and crushed the can in his fist. “Please, God, don’t let him do it,” he thought.

He paced back and forth in the dark, trying to calm down. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Pivoting on his foot, Dean threw his fist into the trunk of the nearest tree, putting his entire body weight behind the punch. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted.

His knuckles were bloody and broken, but Dean didn’t feel the pain. That dull sting was nothing compared to the onslaught of grief that would come if he failed to save Theo Raeken.

When the oldest Winchester finally returned to the motel, he found that Sam and Castiel had waited for him.

Sam’s eyes immediately fell on his brother’s bruised and swollen hand, and he would undoubtedly question Dean about what happened in the morning, but at the moment, Sam knew Dean would not cooperate with his questioning.

Castiel approached Dean and took the hunter’s broken hand gently between both of his. A white light glowed around Dean's hand, healing it, but Cas did not retreat once Dean’s hand was fixed. Instead, he closed his hands, clasping them around Dean's.

Dean smiled appreciatively at the angel. “Sammy, see if you can track my cell phone, would you?”

Sam did so, but he also chanced a question, his worry getting the better of him. “Did you lose your phone?”

“Left it in Theo’s truck,” Dean said. He lifted his left hand and began to trace the two circles over the back of Cas’ hand. “Wanted to see when he goes to the preserve.”

“You know, there’s a chance it won’t get a signal,” Sam said cautiously, beginning to understand not only Dean’s intentions but Theo’s too.

“I had to try.”

“He’s at the train station,” Sam said. “Or at least, his truck is.”

“Do you think he would try to leave town?” Cas asked.

“No, there are no trains that come through this town. The station's just a landmark.” Dean remembered reading in Theo’s file that deputies often spotted Theo’s truck parked across the tracks, one of the few places where deputies wouldn’t harass the boy for sleeping in his car even though the station was still considered private property. “He’s made up his mind.”

Sam and Castiel shared a pained look before returning their respective attention to Dean.

“You can save him, Dean,” Cas said.

“I hope so.”

Dean collapsed onto the nearest chair, his heart heavy with the weight of what might come. Sam and Castiel exchanged glances, both understanding the gravity of the situation. In the silence of the motel room, they waited, each lost in their thoughts, praying for a resolution that wouldn't end in tragedy.

Liam stirred on the couch, groggily blinking awake as morning light filtered through the curtains. The dull ache in his back reminded him that he had not made it to bed, the TV softly humming in the background. His initial confusion faded as he remembered the events of the previous evening—Theo had come over, and they had watched Star Wars together. But, at some point during the night, Theo must have slipped away.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Liam's thoughts returned to the strange tension that had appeared between him and Theo the previous night. Liam sat against the arm of the couch, staring at his phone screen, typing and retyping message after message to Theo. None of them ever got sent. Maybe he had made Theo uncomfortable after all. Maybe Theo had known Liam was keeping something from him. Finally, Liam settled on a simple message, "You left."

It was not the most sophisticated message, but Liam knew that Theo wouldn’t respond to questioning if he responded at all. Liam picked at the skin around his thumbnail, thinking of all the wrong ideas Theo might get if he found out that Liam spoken to Kira and hid it from him, too.

Surprisingly, Theo replied almost immediately, breaking the morning silence with a buzz. "Meet me after first period. Between the buses."

Liam's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected reply. The buses—a spot laden with memories of Hayden. A place where they had once whispered secrets and stolen kisses. The irony wasn't lost on him, but amidst the nostalgia, he felt a twinge of hope.

First period dragged on as if time itself had decided to move at a glacial pace. Liam's mind wandered, letting Theo occupy his thoughts. When the bell rang, Liam made his way nervously to the designated spot. He spotted Theo leaning against one of the buses, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking grave.

“Theo, what’s going on?” Liam asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Theo glanced up as Liam approached, his eyes shadowed and distant. Theo had planned to explain everything—to tell Liam that he would sacrifice himself and to say goodbye. But at that moment, looking at Liam, seeing the concern and maybe something more reflected back at him, Theo's resolve faltered. The words caught in his throat, replaced by an overwhelming desire to hold onto this moment just a little longer, to savour their connection.

"Liam," Theo began, his voice softer than usual but filled with emotion. "I... I wanted to talk to you about something."

Liam approached Theo slowly, placing his hands gently on Theo's biceps, hoping the touch conveyed comfort and reassurance. "Are you okay?" Liam asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“I’m going to do something, and I need you to understand. Please, please, try to understand,” Theo said.

Liam looked up through his lashes at Theo, his beautiful blue eyes a mixture of confusion and longing. Theo's heart ached at the sight—those eyes he would never get to see again. He didn’t want to leave Liam, but this was the only way to protect him.

Liam slid one hand to Theo’s shoulder, squeezing gently, his eyebrows knit together. “Hey, whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

Theo couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Liam his plan because he knew Liam would never let him go through with it—they were both too stubborn for their own good. The thought of making Liam lose another person tore at Theo's heart. Liam deserved better than this, better than him.

Desperately seeking solace in the small moments, Theo focused on the stray strand of hair that had fallen in front of Liam’s face. Gently, he tucked it behind Liam’s ear, his hand lingering to cradle the side of Liam’s face. The touch was tender, filled with unspoken emotion, as Theo tried to memorize every detail of this moment.

Liam leaned into the touch. “Theo, what’s going on?” he asked again softly.

“I’m sorry,” Theo whispered, his voice barely audible. Then, Theo swiftly pulled Liam towards him and pressed their lips together.

Time seemed to stand still as Liam processed the shock of Theo's unexpected kiss. The world around them faded to insignificance, leaving only the sensation of Theo's lips against his, the warmth of his touch seeping into Liam's soul.

When Theo finally pulled back, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Liam's heart raced, his mind reeling from the intensity. But when Theo's apology registered, a spark of defiance surged within him. "I'm not sorry," Liam blurted out, surprising Theo and himself.

Confusion clouded Theo's features, brows furrowing in perplexity. "What do you mean?" he asked, his thumb brushing against Liam's cheek.

"You said you were sorry before," Liam clarified, his voice steady despite the torrent of emotions inside him. "I'm not sorry for this." He reached up, threading his fingers through Theo's hair, pulling him close again until their lips met in another kiss, this one more assured.

This time when they broke apart, it was because of the bell, signaling the beginning of the second period.

"We should go," Liam said, his forehead resting against Theo's.

"Liam..." Theo whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

"We'll talk," Liam promised softly. "At lunch ok? I'll see you then?"

Theo nodded, his forehead still resting against Liam. Neither boy began to move until the final bell cut through the air, shattering the moment.

Liam sighed, glancing back at the school. “I have to go. But I’ll see you at lunch?”

Theo nodded, forcing a smile. Liam kissed him a last time, a quick peck that left Theo’s lips tingling.

“See you in a bit,” Theo whispered to himself.

Theo watched Liam disappear into the school before turning away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be there for lunch. He headed toward the preserve, determined to see his plan through.

.......

The preserve looked different during the day, less ominous. Under the midday sun, the forest was alive, with dappled light filtering through the thick canopy and casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. As Theo walked, the tranquility contrasted sharply with his nervous energy, and the lingering paranoia still clinging to him from the night before.

He had spent hours parked across the train tracks, staring at Scott's number on his phone. He wrestled with the decision of whether to call the boy for help. Ultimately, Theo decided against it, doubting that Scott would answer, let alone come to his aid.

When Theo reached the first clearing, he was met with an unexpected sight: Kira, sword poised at her side, her face a mask of determination and disdain. Theo stepped into the open space, his eyes immediately locking onto Kira's.

"Kira," Theo growled, his voice a low rumble. "What are you doing here?"

Kira's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her katana. "You know exactly why I'm here, Theo. Tyler Valez. You're the reason he's dead, and now it's your turn to pay."

Theo took a cautious step forward, his muscles tensing. "Tyler was innocent, and I'm sorry for what happened to him, but I didn't kill him."

Kira's voice was sharp, cutting through the tranquil sounds of the forest. "I have more than enough reasons to kill you."

Theo shook his head, his expression hardening. "This isn’t going to bring him back, Kira. It won’t change anything."

"It will bring the skinwalkers peace," Kira replied coldly. "It will avenge his death. And it will stop you from hurting anyone else."

"If you kill me, dozens more people could die!" Theo shouted.

High in the treetops, birds sensed the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Their chirps grew hushed, and then, as if in a whispered warning, they took flight. A cacophony of wings beat the air as hundreds of birds abandoned their perches, whispering of an impending storm bellow.

Theo's stance shifted, his body coiling like a spring, preparing for a fight. "If you do this, there's no going back. Are you ready for that?"

Kira's eyes blazed with determination. "I’ve been ready since the day I found out Liam brought you back."

The clearing was silent, the tension between them palpable. Theo crouched low, his eyes glinting amber in the light. His claws were already extended, gleaming as he prowled in a circle around Kira.

Kira stood tall with her katana held firmly in both hands, tracking Theo with her eyes. Her ink-black hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes shone a fiery orange.

Theo made the first move, lunging forward with a burst of speed. His claws swiped through the air where Kira had stood moments ago, but she had already sidestepped the attack with fluid grace. Kira retaliated and swung her katana in a sweeping arc, aiming for Theo's flank. He twisted aside, narrowly evading the blade, and retaliated with a lightning-fast counterattack. Kira parried with skill, her sword clashing against Theo's claws.

Their movements became a dance of strength and agility under the daylight, each combatant testing the other's defenses with calculated precision. Theo's lupine instincts guided his attacks, while Kira utilized the powers of her fox spirit, making her attacks more sly and cunning.

A growl of frustration escaped Theo as he feinted left, then lunged right, attempting to catch Kira off guard. His claws grazed her shoulder, drawing blood that trickled down her arm. Kira gritted her teeth against the pain and countered with a swift kick to Theo's midsection. He staggered back, momentarily winded, giving Kira a brief opening.

With a primal yell, Kira summoned the power of her fox spirit. Flames erupted around her, swirling and coalescing into the shape of a giant fiery fox that enveloped her form. Now engulfed in ethereal armor, Kira advanced on Theo, her katana gleaming against spectral fire.

Theo's amber eyes widened slightly at the sight of the fox spirit, but he braced himself and charged forward again. His claws tore through the air, but this time Kira's movements were infused with the speed and unpredictability of the kitsune. She deflected each of Theo's strikes, driving him back step by step.

The tide turned when Kira saw her opportunity. With a swift, precise strike, she slashed diagonally across Theo's chest. The blade of her katana, laced with wolfsbane, cut deep into Theo's flesh. A searing pain erupted within him as the toxic substance entered his bloodstream. Theo staggered back, clutching at the wound on his chest, and let out a guttural howl of agony that rang through the forest.

Kira loomed over Theo, her eyes narrowed, her katana raised high, poised to deliver the final blow. Theo, driven survival instinct, rolled aside at the last moment, narrowly avoiding her strike. Pain lanced through his body, but he managed to scramble to his feet, one hand pressed against the wound on his chest.

With a snarl, Theo lunged at Kira again. The adrenaline and the burning pain of wolfsbane coursing through his veins made his movements desperate. He attempted to disarm her, aiming to kick the katana from her grip, but Kira anticipated his move and twisted away, evading his attack with a quick step back.

The battle raged on under the canopy of green leaves and sunlight, their movements a blur of steel and claw. Sensing Theo's diminishing energy, Kira made her final gambit; she plunged her katana into the soft earth, channeling all her energy to call upon Tara's spirit.

The ground trembled beneath them as fissures began to crack open, the earth responding to a skinwalker's call with rumbling intensity.

Just as Kira prepared to unleash Tara's wrath upon Theo, Liam rushed into the clearing.

"Kira, stop!" Liam's voice rang out, breaking through the tense silence of the forest, heart pounding and eyes wide.

Kira hesitated for a split second, her gaze flickering towards Liam. "Liam, stay out of this," she warned, her voice strained.

Liam stepped forward, his hands held out in a pleading gesture. "This isn't you, Kira."

"He deserves to pay," Kira spat out, her voice thick with anger.

Kira stood amidst the cracks in the earth where her katana remained embedded. The fox fire flickering defiantly.

Liam continued, his voice steady but filled with urgency. "Let him go."

Kira wavered, torn between her desire for vengeance and Liam's heartfelt plea. After all, Liam had been her friend once. Her grip on the katana faltered slightly, the fire in her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Theo, wounded and struggling to stand, leaned against Liam's side. The beta didn't hesitate to wrap his arm around Theo's waist, supporting the boy's weight.

For a moment, time seemed to hang suspended in the air, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and Theo's labored breaths. Kira looked between Liam and Theo, her expression conflicted. "I gave you a choice Liam," she said, "either you do it, or I do."

With that, the spectral fox spirit around her dissipated like smoke in the wind. Kira wrenched her katana from the ground, the fissures disappearing instantaneously as the girl stalked away into the woods.

Liam helped Theo to the truck despite the chimera's pain-filled protests. "Animal clinic," Theo rasped, the wolfsbane making breathing difficult.

Liam nodded solemnly and drove.

Liam drove determinedly, the trees blurring past as he navigated the winding road. The tension in the truck was palpable, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Theo leaned back in his seat, his breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded from the pain coursing through him. The wound on his chest was severe, and the wolfsbanes effects were making it worse.

"Hang in there, Theo," Liam muttered, glancing over at him. "We'll get you to the clinic. You'll be okay."

Theo grunted in response, his mind a haze of pain and confusion. The fight with Kira had taken everything out of him, and now, in the aftermath, he could barely keep his thoughts straight. He focused on the sound of the engine, the hum of the tires on the asphalt, the erratic thump of Liam's heart, anything to distract himself from the burning agony in his chest.

As they pulled up to the clinic, Liam wasted no time. He jumped out of the truck, ran around to Theo's side, and helped him out of the vehicle. The clinic was quiet, its usual bustle subdued in the early afternoon light. Liam shouldered Theo's weight, practically dragging him through the door.

Dr. Deaton, the resident veterinarian, and a trusted ally, looked up from his desk with a start. His eyes widened as he took in Theo's condition. "What happened?" he asked, rushing over to help.

"Wolfsbane," Liam explained tersely. "He needs help, fast."

Dr. Deaton nodded, his professional demeanor taking over. "Get him into the exam room," he instructed. "I'll grab my kit."

They maneuvered Theo onto the exam table, and Dr. Deaton quickly began work. His hands moved with practiced precision, cleaning the wound and assessing the extent of the damage.

"You’re lucky, Theo," Dr. Deaton said, calm but serious. "Your attacker used blue wolfsbane. It’s not as potent for chimeras. If they had used yellow wolfsbane, we’d be dealing with a much more serious situation."

Theo winced and gritted his teeth but remained still, knowing any movement could worsen things. Dr. Deaton retrieved a small butane torch from his medical bag, the flame flickering to life with a soft whoosh.

"The only way to cure wolfsbane poisoning is to burn it out," he explained aloud. "This is going to hurt, but it’s necessary."

Theo braced himself, his muscles tensing as the torch's heat approached his skin. The searing pain was immediate and intense, causing him to clench his fists against the scream that threatened to escape. Dr. Deaton worked quickly, meticulously burning away the contaminated flesh. The stench of charred skin filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of wolfsbane.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Deaton extinguished the torch and began to treat the now-sterile wounds. Theo felt short-winded, but the worst was over. Deaton applied a soothing salve and started to bandage the burns.

"You're going to be okay," Dr. Deaton said, voice calm and reassuring. "The treatment will counteract the wolfsbane, but you should rest and let your body heal."

Theo nodded weakly, his eyelids drooping. The pain was already starting to dull, making him sleepy. "Thanks, Doc," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Liam stayed by Theo's side as he drifted off to sleep, his body finally able to relax as the worst pain subsided. Dr. Deaton cleaned up his supplies and gave Liam a sympathetic look.

"He'll need to stay here for a while," Dr. Deaton said quietly. "Make sure he's stable before you take him home."

Liam nodded. "I understand. Thank you for everything."

Dr. Deaton patted his shoulder. "You're a good friend, Liam. He’s lucky to have you."

Liam watched as the vet left the room, leaving him alone with Theo. The room brimmed with a tense silence, broken only by the soft beeping of the various machines in the clinic. Liam pulled up a chair and sat down, his mind racing. The events of the day played over and over in his head.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. His gaze fell on Theo's face, pale and drawn but peaceful in sleep. Gently, Liam brushed a strand of hair away from Theo's forehead. Theo had been growing his hair out: much different than the close-cropped style he kept when Liam had first met him. The longer hair suited him, Liam thought, adding a softness to his rugged features.

As he watched Theo's chest rise and fall with each breath, a wave of exhaustion hit Liam. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his arm on the table's edge next to Theo. The chilly surface of the table was a stark contrast to the warmth of his emotions. Liam prepared to wait there all day until Theo woke up, determined not to leave his side.

The longer Liam sat there, the more a troubling thought began to nag at him. Why had Theo gone to the preserve in the first place? He was supposed to be in class, yet Liam found him mere feet away from Tara's bridge. Theo wouldn't have planned to face Tara alone, not after the events of that morning, not after kissing Liam. Why would he put himself in harm's way? Liam would fight with him. Liam would always fight with him, so why would Theo go alone?

Liam's mind drifted to a vivid memory—the battle in the hospital. He could almost feel the chaos around him again and hear the sounds of the Ghost Riders closing in. Theo had dragged him away from danger, shoving him into the elevators towards safety. "What are you doing?" Liam had yelled, panic in his voice.

"Being the bait," Theo had replied calmly, his voice tinged with sass, as the elevator doors slid shut.

Liam's heart sank as the realization settled in. Theo had been planning to sacrifice himself to protect him. Theo had always protected him—from the Ghost Riders, hunters, and the Dread Doctors. How had he not seen it? Theo's unwavering loyalty and his willingness to do anything to keep Liam safe should have been blatant.

Liam's emotions jumbled like a knot inside him. Worry gnawed at him, persistent in the back of his mind, as he looked at Theo's pale face, the fear of losing him tightening like a vice around his heart. Sadness welled up, a deep, aching sorrow as he faced the reality of Theo's sacrifice. But alongside these feelings, anger simmered, threatening to boil over.

How could Theo kiss him, hold him close, and say, "See you later," knowing that once he left, he would never come back? The thought stung like betrayal. Did Theo think so lowly of himself, value his life so little, that he could throw it away? The memory of their kiss, filled with promises and hope, clashed painfully with the image of Theo lying before him—still and ashen.

Frustration bubbled up, a familiar sensation that often accompanied Liam’s struggles with intermittent explosive disorder. The cacophony of emotion—worry, sadness, anger—swirled inside him, making his chest tight and his thoughts chaotic. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to contain the conflicting emotions.

"Why?" he whispered harshly, his voice trembling with the effort to keep his anger in check. "Why would you do this?"

Liam reached out and took Theo's hand in his, feeling the claminess of his skin. The thought of losing the person he loved, of losing Theo, was too much to bear. The sadness mingled with the anger, pulling the knot in his chest painfully tighter with every passing second.

"I'm here to fight with you," Liam said, squeezing Theo's hand gently, though his grip was firm with suppressed emotion. "And I won't let you be the bait this time."

His voice was a mix of determination and frustration, a promise and a plea. He was angry at Theo for putting himself in danger, for thinking he had to face everything alone. But more than that, he was terrified of losing him.

.......

As the hours past, Liam remained by Theo's side; his grip stayed steady on Theo's hand. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of the boy's chest, the color slowly returning to his cheeks. It was a small comfort but enough to keep Liam going. Outside, the sun crept westward, casting long shadows across the clinic.

Theo stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked around, disoriented, before his gaze settled on Liam. "Hey, Little Wolf," he croaked, his voice hoarse, eyes heavy with weariness.

"Hi," Liam said, a fragile smile breaking through despite the lingering worry and anger etched on his face. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," Theo muttered, managing a weak smile. "But better, I think."

Theo tried to sit up, wincing slightly. Liam gently grasped Theo’s shoulder, helping him into a sitting position. "Don't move too much. You need to rest."

Theo nodded but still moved to swing his legs off the table, letting them dangle over the edge instead. His shoulders were tense as he looked back at Liam, his expression hardening suddenly.

"You knew?" Theo asked, with a hint of accusation, his voice raw and filled with hurt.

"Huh?"

"You knew Kira was planning to kill me."

Liam's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "Theo, I— I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn't want you to get hurt!" Liam said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"How could you keep that from me?" Theo's voice trembled with a mixture of betrayal and fear. "You let me walk right into her trap!"

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets?” Liam shot back, his frustration taking over. “When were you gonna tell me about your plans, huh?”

Theo went silent; his jaw pulled tight, but his eyes never left Liam's.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or did you write the note too?"

Theo's anger wavered, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. "It's different. You don't understand," he whispered. "When you keep something like this from me, I think you don't trust me. It's like I'm not worth keeping in the loop."

"It's not that," Liam pleaded, his hand tightening around Theo's. "I just—you're everything to me. The thought of you getting hurt? The thought of you putting yourself in danger? I hate it."

Theo's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and pain. "I get it," he said, his voice trembling. "But, Liam, you are not dying for me."

"You’re not dying for me either!" Liam replied, irritation rising in his voice. "I thought I could protect you. I thought I could save you."

Theo's expression hardened again. "And what if I'm beyond saving?"

Liam's resolve remained firm. "I rescued you once before, and I’ll do it again," he said, his voice softening slightly but the determination in his eyes unwavering. "I won’t lose you."

Theo's eyes narrowed. "You wanted me to be a hero, didn't you? That's what I'm doing."

Liam snapped at that. "Don't twist my words! I never said I wanted you to be a hero. I said you are a hero!"

"Oh really? I’m a hero?" Theo asked sarcastically. "The guy who lied and manipulated you? The guy who murdered people and tried to destroy your pack? I killed Scott, Liam. That’s who you want me to be? That's the 'hero' you think I am?"

Liam scoffed and rolled his eyes, suggesting Theo had just said something unbelievably stupid. "No, not the Dread Doctor's little puppet. You, Theo. The guy who took Gabe’s pain. The guy who cried when Qui-Gon Jinn died. The one who listens to all my history rants because he secretly finds them interesting and helps me with my biology homework because I suck at it. My hero. My anchor. You are always there when I need you, so, for once, let me be there for you!"

The raw emotion in Liam’s voice made Theo’s heart ache. He wished to reach out and pull Liam into a tight embrace, holding him close. He wished he could kiss Liam's pain away. Theo wished he could be with Liam forever.

"Liam, this is the only way to get rid of Tara for good, okay?" Theo said, attempting to keep his voice steady. "If I’m what’s keeping her here, then I need to give myself up."

"No! You don’t get to—" Liam cut himself off, his voice catching on barely contained tears. "You don’t get to leave me, Theo. You don’t get to kiss me and then die! I won’t let you."

“I’m sorry, Theo did WHAT!?” The spastic voice broke the bubble around Liam and Theo, an abrupt reminder that they were not, in fact, in their own little world. Turning to greet the intruding voice, Liam met two familiar faces; Scott and Stiles had returned from college.

.......

Stiles stood in the doorway, a shell-shocked expression on his face. Beside him, Scott looked equally shocked, though he wore his emotions more eloquently.

"Uh, we can explain," Liam stammered, but his voice faltered. He glanced at Theo, whose expression had turned guarded.

Stiles flailed his arms in a way that could almost pass for a "zip it" gesture. "I don't want to hear it, mister!"

Liam rolled his eyes again as Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gone for a couple of months, and this is what happens?” Stiles muttered to himself. “Why aren’t you freaking out? You can’t seriously be okay with this!” He directed his question at Scott.

“Stiles, I don’t think that’s the most important detail right now,” Scott replied, trying to stay focused.

Stiles recoiled at Scott’s response. “Not the most important? Scott! Your beta is shacking up with pure evil! Pure evil! What could possibly be more important?” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

“He’s not evil!” Liam growled, lunging forward, his voice low and fierce.

Theo tugged the boy back by their entwined hands, placing his free hand on Liam’s trapezius, just over his pulse point.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You said the murders weren’t supernatural,” Liam pressed.

“Kira called,” Scott said by way of explanation.

Liam’s anger intensified, bordering on dangerous. Theo wouldn’t be surprised if even non-supernatural beings could sense the boy's emotions.

Needing Liam to hold it together, Theo said, “So Kira called. Great. Did she offer anything useful? Or did she send you here to give me another headache?”

“Well, she mentioned she put her sword back together, so that’s something,” Stiles spat, venom lacing his tone.

Theo flinched at Stiles’ words.

“Enough,” Dr. Deaton said, his authoritative voice cutting through the tension as he re-entered the room. “To move forward, we need to focus on solutions rather than accusations.”

Stiles clenched his jaw, clearly agitated but silent. Scott placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to stay positive.

“Look, I know we don't all exactly see eye to eye,” Scott said, trying to ease the atmosphere. “But we really are here to help, Liam. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Liam responded with a brief nod, but his expression remained unreadable.

Dr. Deaton nodded, appreciating Scott's attempt to make amends. “What if we could use Kira’s sword to help Theo?” Deaton suggested, his tone serious and measured.

“How would we do that?” Liam asked, aware that Theo would not voice his concerns about the sword in front of Scott and Stiles.

“What if Theo is the one using the sword?” Dr. Deaton proposed, his gaze steady. The man plucked a book off his desk, flipping to the bookmarked page. "I've done some research on the skinwalkers. The bestiary had frustratingly little to offer, but, theoretically, anyone could open the rift."

"The sword worked for Kira because she is a kitsune," Stiles said, adding his trademark pessimism.

"True," Deaton conceded. "But, there is nothing to suggest it wouldn't work for any other supernatural creature."

"So, you want Theo to use the sword to banish Tara, like what Kira did to him?" Scott summarized.

"Precisely," Deaton said, flipping the book shut.

"It could work,” Scott said, shifting his focus to Liam.

Liam turned away, looking up at Theo instead. “What do you think?” he asked gently.

Theo looked away for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He sensed Liam's eagerness for this plan, even if it felt overly optimistic.

“I don't like the idea of using the sword,” Theo admitted, then met Liam's eyes again. “But... if you believe this could really work, then I’m willing to try.”

Before Theo could respond further, Liam surged forward, pressing a soft, joyful kiss to Theo's lips. It was tender and filled with relief, a moment that felt like everything they had been fighting for.

Stiles grimaced, his eyes wide. “Okay, none of that!” he exclaimed, unable to keep his comments to himself. "Seriously, I'm gonna be sick."

Liam pulled back, his face alight with happiness as he beamed at Theo. Despite the clear and obnoxious disapproval Scott and Stiles had of Theo, Liam looked at him as if he were the most lovely thing in the world. His smile was radiant and hopeful, and his eyes sparkled with an unmistakable emotion—love.

For a fleeting moment, Theo thought that if he were to die tonight, he could take comfort in knowing that Liam loved him, too. He could go, knowing he had witnessed one final, breathtaking smile on Liam's beautiful face. Really, what more could he ask for?