i leave to take braeden back, and you give away my side of the bed to the puppy.

[ 4.10 ]

Liam sat on Scott's couch, his head in his hands and the night replaying in his mind. Even after showering, he could still pick up on the faint scent of gasoline that caused fear to course through him once more.

Scott was none the wiser to his beta's internal crisis as he rushed downstairs, two motorcycle helmets in hand. "Kira found Brett," he told Liam while handing him a helmet. "They're fine, but we've got to go."

"More assassins?" Liam asked, slowly getting off the couch.

Scott rushed to the door as he spoke. "Maybe a lot more."

"Different than the ones who just tried to set us on fire?" he asked.

"I think so, yeah," Scott said. He stopped in the doorway when he realized Liam wasn't following. Liam was staring at the ground and silently placed the helmet on the kitchen table. Sympathy washed over Scott as he walked up to him. He held out the helmet to Liam, this time for a different reason. "How about I take you home?"

"I'm not like you," Liam mumbled self-consciously.

Scott smiled softly. "Not yet—"

"I don't mean I'm not strong, or I'm never gonna learn how to be in control — I mean everything else," Liam interrupted. He still couldn't look Scott in the eyes as he recalled his talk with Willow a few days ago. It was okay that he wasn't brave. He needed to do what was best to keep himself safe. And he needed to be honest with Scott, so that's what he was doing. "You and your friends... you try to protect everyone. Have you been doing this the whole time? I mean, how are you all still alive?"

"Not all of us are," Scott whispered, his chest tightening as he thought of Aiden and Erica. Of Allison. He once again held out the helmet. "Let me at least take you home."

Liam took the helmet and stared at his reflection in the visor. "Actually, could you take me to Willow's?"

"Yeah," Scott said with a smile. The boy really had latched on to the Incantator that everyone loved. "I'll text her and let her know we're on the way."

☽︎

Derek didn't make a sound as he climbed through the window in Willow's room. There was literally no point to it. Not only were Stiles and Noah not home, but Derek also had a key to the front door. He just liked coming through the window and that would never change.

But once his feet were on the ground, he paused and looked at Willow's bed with a pout on his lips. She was there, hair still wet from her shower where she scrubbed off all the gasoline. But Liam was there as well, curled up into her side. He could tell they were both awake, as Willow was running a comforting hand through Liam's hair while he sighed contently.

"I leave to take Braeden back, and you give away my side of the bed to the puppy," Derek complained, crossing his arms.

Willow smiled sweetly at him as Liam sleepily lifted his head to look at Derek through half-closed eyes. "You were gone. It's free real estate."

Derek scoffed playfully while Willow giggled. "You're lucky you've got a big bed," Derek told her, pulling off his shoes.

Liam didn't move out of Willow's arms as Derek came around to the other side of the bed and laid down so that Willow was in between the two wolves. They were all piled together, but one was still missing.

"Where's Scrib?" Derek asked, not spotting the black cat.

"Stiles' room," Willow answered. She let her head roll back and rest on Derek's chest. "Liam's a new wolf, so Scrib's not used to him yet. Gotta build up a tolerance and force the friendship like with you and Scott."

☽︎

It seemed that everyone had a big night, not just those almost burned alive at the school. Kira, of course, managed to find Brett and the rest of Satomi's pack, saving them from a group of assassins who chased them to the school long after the party ended.

As for Lydia and Stiles, well, they'd almost been killed as well by Brunski at Eichen House. Parrish managed to save them while also discovering that Brunski had been killing people for years at the institution and getting away with it — including Lydia's grandmother.

The biggest surprise though was that Meredith Walker was alive. Not only was she alive, but she had also been behind the Deadpool — or at least, she was carrying out orders from the Benefactor. She stole Peter's money. She sent out the tapes. She was able to tell which marks were killed and which weren't with her abilities.

Willow was asked by Lydia to come by the police department in the morning. If Meredith didn't start talking, the last resort would be for Willow to force it out of her. Of course, Willow was against using her powers that way, but then Lydia reminded her about how Derek was the third cipher key. Perhaps if they got answers and ended this, his life wouldn't be in danger anymore.

So, Willow entered the station, eyes seeking out the Banshee they thought to be dead. Meredith was seated on the couch in Noah's office, visible from the window. Lydia was sitting on the bench outside, resting her head on the wall.

She looked as if she'd slept there — because she had. Willow brought a bag of clean clothes for her to change into, knowing she was still wearing the very outfit she'd been kidnapped and nearly killed in.

Noah came out of his office just as Willow arrived, spotting Lydia as well. "I thought I told you to go home," he said to her.

"I thought I told you I wasn't going anywhere," she said, giving him a pointed look. "Did they get anything out of her?"

"Should have gone with the medium," he muttered, referring to a joking comment Lydia'd made the day before. Then he sighed and looked at Willow. "What are you doing up here?"

"Just trying to help," she said, shrugging.

Parrish then came into the room, grabbing their attention. "We went through everything in Brunski's office, and so far, everything amounts to pretty much nothing," he informed them. There was no proof that he could be the Benefactor. Parrish eyed Lydia's clothes. "Did you not go home yet?"

Lydia wasn't deterred by his somewhat chastising tone. "Not until Meredith starts talking."

"Lydia, I promise she'll talk, and when she does, I'll let you know. Trust me on this — everybody talks eventually," Noah said.

"Then let me try," she said, desperate to talk to Meredith.

"No! We've already discussed this—"

"I've gotten through to her before! Just let me try," Lydia pleaded. "I'm the best chance we've got. Well, Willow is the best chance we've got, but she's being held back by her morality."

"You're starting to sound like Stiles," Willow grumbled, rolling her eyes playfully. Then she held out the bag of clothes to Lydia. "Get changed. You look like you spent the night tied up in a basement and then slept on a bench."

"I was tied up in a basement and then slept on a bench," Lydia said flatly. But she took the clothes and managed a smile. "Thank you."

"There's deodorant and makeup remover too," she informed her, eyeing the smudged mascara around the girl's eyes.

"A true lifesaver," she said, walking off to the bathroom.

Willow moved to follow her, but Noah stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hold it right there."

The two hadn't seen much of each other since Noah was released from the hospital. Things had been too hectic to focus on anything other than assassins and the Deadpool. They hadn't had the time for Noah to confront her about her going behind his back and paying that hospital bill.

"Hey, Papa S," Willow said casually. "Glad you're feeling better. How long do you have to wear that sling—"

"Willow," he interrupted, sighing softly. "You know that paying that bill wasn't your responsibility. I appreciate what you were trying to do, but I don't appreciate you going behind my back and doing it while I was too drugged up to stop you."

"I'm not - I don't feel bad about helping," Willow said quietly. "I get to choose how I spend my money. And it's not because I feel bad or I think that you're some charity case, okay? Helping out financially is quite literally the least I can do to make up for all you've done for me."

"I'm not ungrateful, Willow. But even though I'm not your legal guardian, I'll tell you exactly what I told Stiles. It's my job to take care of you kids, not the other way around."

"And you do take care of me," she assured him. "It's not even about you putting a roof over my head and making sure I'm safe. You took me in when I was going through the hardest thing in the world. Even with everyone surrounding me, I was so alone. But you and Stiles? You gave me a family again."

Willow's eyes began to water, but she kept going. "Families take care of each other — not just the adults. I don't mind paying to make sure you get the best treatment or helping Stiles pay for jeep maintenance so that it's safe for him to drive. That's not gonna change no matter how times you tell me it's not my responsibility. I love you, and you are my family, and I will take care of the people I love no matter what."

Noah looked down at her, many emotions swimming in his own eyes. Before speaking, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. "I love you too, Willow. I don't mean to be hard on you, but you've been through so much for someone so young. You've lost so much. I don't want you worrying about things you don't have to. Don't shoulder responsibilities you don't need to. You deserve to just be an eighteen-year-old without a care in the world."

"I don't think normal eighteen-year-old is in the cards for me," she whispered. "What with the mind control and glowing eyes and group of friends that only has one human in it."

"And the werewolf boyfriend who doesn't know how to use front doors," he joked.

"He just doesn't want to risk running into Stiles," Willow said, snickering. She pulled away from the hug and wiped under her eyes. "Alright, let's see if Lydia can get anything worthwhile out of Meredith."

Willow, Noah, and Parrish all stood back as Lydia spoke with Meredith in the office. Because they didn't have actual facts, Lydia could only concoct a theory based on what happened at Eichen house.

"I think I'm getting an idea of how all this happened," Lydia said, pacing in front of Meredith. "You used Brunski, right? You knew he'd kill people and that he would do it again. He used my grandmother's code for the Deadpool. He put it online. He took the money from the Hale vault, then turned the bearer bonds into cash. He made the payments."

But Meredith didn't react at all to Lydia's educated guess. She only stared forward silently. Lydia held back a frustrated sigh and sat on the couch next to her.

"Was it Brunski's idea to fake your death?" she asked. "Did he get nervous because you helped us with one of the cipher keys?"

Meredith turned her head slightly to look at her. "I wanted to help."

"All you ever wanted to do was help," Lydia said with a smile, glad that she was finally talking. "Is that why you're here? I know you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to talk."

"I do," Meredith admitted. "But only to one person."

"Who?" Lydia asked.

"Peter. Peter Hale."

☽︎

Peter was the last person on the planet they expected Meredith to ask for. But when Willow called to tell him that Meredith wanted to talk to him and that she was the one who stole his money, he sped there as quickly as he could.

Meredith was moved to an interrogation room with Parrish stationed in the corner. On the other side of the one-way glass, Peter studied the seemingly harmless girl with his arms crossed.

"Her? That's the girl that stole my money?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"That girl is a banshee," Lydia said sharply. "They're more dangerous than you think."

"Oh, I think that girl's pilot light went out a long time ago," he muttered. "Sheriff, not to question the unquestionably sterling reputation of your department, but are you absolutely sure you got the one?"

Noah bit back an annoyed remark. "How about you just go in there and see what she has to say?"

"Okay," he muttered.

"Just be nice," Willow told Peter before he went into the room. He simply raised an eyebrow. "She's... delicate."

"Clearly," he said under his breath.

As Peter sat across from Meredith in the room, the others watched on from the other side of the glass. He stared at her for a moment, waiting to see if she'd say anything.

"Meredith, where's my money? Or, more correctly, what's left of it?" he asked, trying to curb his annoyance.

But Meredith didn't answer. With wide, confused eyes, she slowly reached forward and placed her fingers to the side of his face, startling them all.

"Oh my God," Willow whispered, realizing right away what Meredith was doing. It was the same thing Willow did the second time she met Peter.

As Meredith drew her hand back, Peter grabbed her harshly, threatened by her bold touch. Parrish drew his gun instantly, not wanting him to hurt her.

"Let her go," he ordered. "Let her go."

"Why did you do that?" Peter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She's looking for them," Willow said quietly, stepping closer to the glass. She had touched Peter's cheek in wonder the same way so long ago, back when he was an alpha. "She's looking for his burns."

"They're all gone," Meredith said in disbelief.

"They have met before," Lydia said, realizing what Willow had.

"The burns," Meredith murmured. "They're all gone."

Instead of focusing on how the hell she knew about his burn scars, Peter continued to question her. Meredith touching his face only irritated him more.

"Meredith, you put everyone — including Willow, my nephew, and my daughter — on a death list! Don't you think you owe us the slightest explanation as to why?" Peter snapped angrily.

Meredith leaned forward to whisper, unbothered by his rage. "You said it had to be kept secret."

"I said? I said that to you?" he asked. That didn't make any sense at all.

"You said it," she confirmed.

"Meredith," he said, growing more impatient. "Allow me to remind you yet again — we have never met. Ever."

"What's he doing?" Noah asked, not understanding what was happening. None of them did.

"He's trying to get answers," Willow said.

"You don't remember?" Meredith asked Peter, frowning.

"No," he told her. Then Peter got an idea. "But maybe you do."

Peter stood quickly, knocking the table to the side and pushing Parrish into the wall before he could draw his gun.

"No, don't!" Lydia shouted.

But it was too late. Peter grabbed Meredith and dug his claws into the back of her neck. The others rushed into the room, but Willow stood in front of Peter before Noah or Parrish could shoot him.

"Don't! Don't touch them," Lydia instructed. "If you break the bond, you could kill them — both of them."

"What are we supposed to do?" Noah asked, getting antsy. He was regretting ever calling Peter to the station.

"I, uh, I don't know," Lydia admitted.

"We wait," Willow told them, having seen this enough times. "All we can do is wait for it to be over."

"What the hell is he doing to her?" Parrish asked nervously.

"He's searching her memories," she explained. "It's something that werewolves can do, but it's very dangerous. Peter - he's really the only one experienced at it. Anyone else might kill her except maybe Scott if he was focused."

After a few moments, Meredith began to mutter incoherent words under her breath, so quietly that they couldn't understand. If they hadn't been watching her like a hawk, they wouldn't even know she was speaking at all.

"Do you hear that?" Noah asked quietly. "She's saying something."

They all watched as Lydia stepped closer to her fellow banshee, seemingly comprehending what she was saying. "Can you understand that?" Parrish asked.

"I can. I can hear perfectly," Lydia said, her eyes wide. "She was in the hospital — the same hospital."

"Same as who?" Parrish asked.

"Peter," Willow answered, looking at the unresponsive wolf. "It was when he was in the coma, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Lydia confirmed, continuing to listen. "It was right after the fire. Meredith could hear him."

"Hear what?" Noah asked, not understanding.

"Everything. She was hearing every thought in his head, like they'd somehow found the same wavelength. And now, everything going through his mind was also going right into hers."

"For how long?" Noah questioned.

"Weeks. Maybe even months," she said. "It was almost like he was standing right over her bed, talking about the fire. About getting revenge. About starting over, taking out all the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills to remake them in his image. The bearer bonds, the assassins. All of it."

As Lydia finished speaking, Peter withdrew his claws, gasping loudly as he collapsed on the floor. Parrish and Lydia checked on Meredith as Willow crouched beside Peter.

"It was your idea," Lydia said, looking down at Peter in disbelief. "And you don't even remember."

Noah aimed his gun at Peter, who looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you kidding me?" he asked, unable to believe they were blaming him.

"Hands where I can see them," Noah ordered as Peter slowly stood.

"How the hell was I supposed to remember any of that?" he asked defensively.

"She got it from you," Lydia said accusingly.

"That's not the same thing as him actually doing this," Willow said, coming to his defense.

"I was out of my mind!" Peter exclaimed. "Do you know what it's like for one of us to be in a coma? Paralyzed but cognizant? You try not going crazy."

"She was listening to you!" Parrish said, glaring at him.

"She was listening to the ranting and raving of a lunatic!" he stated. "A former lunatic. I'm much healthier, now. I had nothing to do with this."

"If she was following your lead on this, then how do we know there isn't more?" Noah asked.

Peter scoffed. "Stealing my own money? Really?"

"You were going to use it anyway—"

"Stop," Lydia interjected. "Stop it! This is what she wants. It's why she's here. Look around, Sheriff. There's four people in here right now, four people still on the Deadpool. Me, Parrish, Willow, and Meredith."

"But not him," Parrish said bitterly.

"Lydia's right. We don't want to kill each other," Peter said.

"The only person I'm pointing a gun at is you," Noah said threateningly.

"Then you better make it a perfect shot, Sheriff, because I don't go down easy," Peter warned darkly.

Noah moved the gun to his forehead. "I'm willing to bet that a bullet between the eyes doesn't heal real fast — not even for your kind."

"Stop this," Willow said, standing by Peter's side. Peter may not have flinched as Noah pushed the barrel against his forehead, but she did. "This isn't his fault! Stop."

"This department's getting more corrupt by the second," Peter muttered, glaring at the Sheriff. "What are you going to charge me with, Sheriff? How are you going to explain this to a judge? 'Telepathic girl overhears thoughts of comatose werewolf and decides to enact his plans for retribution?' Hmm. They're gonna be pointing a gun at your head and asking you to go quietly."

Lydia sighed heavily. "Let him go. You have to let him go."

"I'd take the word of a banshee, Sheriff," Peter said, smirking. "I leave. No triggers pulled, no bloodshed."

Noah begrudgingly lowered his weapon, letting Peter walk out the door. "That's twice, Peter... There's not gonna be a third."

As Peter left, Meredith got out of her chair, trying to go after him. Parrish quickly restrained her. "No! It's not finished! No! It's not-it's not finished!"

Willow glanced at the others once before moving to follow Peter.

"Willow, do not go after that man," Noah told her. "He's dangerous—"

"He didn't do this," Willow told him, shaking her head. "Thinking about getting revenge while trapped in a coma and mourning his entire family isn't the same as painstakingly planning out a crime and carrying it out. Meredith and the assassins are the only ones even remotely to blame."

"Willow! Willow, come back!" Noah shouted.

But Willow was already chasing Peter out of the building, who was stalking toward his car angrily. "Peter, wait," she called, catching up to him.

"What, here to call me a deranged monster?" he asked bitterly, stopping by his car.

Instead of answering, Willow hugged him. It surprised him — he had only been hugged one other time since the fire happened, and that was Willow too, after she learned he saved her from Matt.

"Peter, when you did come out of your coma, you only intended to hurt those involved with the fire. Even if I don't approve, killing Kate was understandable. And now that she's still alive, I really couldn't say anything if you killed her again," Willow said quietly. "But you never set out to murder innocent people. You're not that emotionless monster that they think you are. And I know you never truly wanted this Deadpool to happen. You're not some horrible, evil person."

Peter relaxed halfway through the tangent, hugging her back. Then he pulled away and leaned against his car. "I'm not exactly a good person either, Willow."

"But you are better — so much better than expected given the pain and tragedy you've overcome," she told him. "They think that you only care about yourself, but that's not true. You love Derek. You don't want to see him hurt. And you care about Malia, even if you haven't known about her long. You're not just a big ball of hatred and anger."

"I care about you too," Peter reminded her softly. "And I - I'm sorry that you've been put in danger so much because of me — or because some banshee decided to take my deranged mental rants seriously."

"It's not your fault. None of this is, truly," Willow said, shaking her head. "They're just letting their personal biases and past experiences with you cloud their judgment. But this Deadpool wasn't your doing — not really."

"It's comforting to know that I'll at least always have you in my corner," Peter said, managing my smile. "Though, as I've said, you're probably still too forgiving for your own good."

Willow rolled her eyes playfully. "You've done nothing that needs forgiving."

If only she knew.

"I'm gonna go back inside," she told him. "Maybe we can stop this now that we know Meredith was the one to carry it all out. I'll keep you updated and let you know if we locate the rest of your money."

"Thank you, Willow."

As Willow kissed his cheek and ran back into the station, a foreign feeling crept up on Peter. An emotion had hadn't felt since he was a teenager. Since before the fire.

He felt guilty.

☽︎

After learning that Meredith was carrying out Peter's plan, it wasn't long before the Deadpool was shut down completely. It was Stiles and Malia's doing, who found a giant, ancient computer system behind the walls in Lorraine's study, which had been making all the wire transfers and contacting each assassin. With Lydia's help, telling them where to search, they found a physical key that turned the machine off.

A message was instantly sent out to all the assassins, informing them that all contracts were terminated. That the Deadpool was over.

It was over.

It was over.

Willow could hardly believe it as she repeated the sentence over and over in her mind. The first place she went after leaving the police station wasn't home — well, at least the one with her room and Scribbles. She rushed to Derek's loft, anxious to see him now that it was all over.

"Is everyone okay?" Willow asked as soon as she was through the door and wrapped in Derek's arms.

There'd been a big showdown with the hunters trying to kill Satomi's pack. Even with Chris and Braeden helping the pack of werewolves, they were still outnumbered. There was no telling if anyone would've survived at all had Stiles and Malia not turned off the Deadpool in time.

"A few were banged up, but they'll heal," Derek told her. "After the message went out about the Deadpool being over, they all just... left."

"Like they weren't trying to murder innocent people — children — for money," she said under her breath. Then she hugged Derek tighter. "And you're okay?"

"I'm right here," he said with a smile on his face as he softly rubbed up and down her back. "Alive and well."

Willow pulled back to look up at him hopefully. "If it - if it's over, maybe — I mean, maybe Lydia's prediction was wrong. Or at least we stopped it."

"Maybe," Derek agreed, nodding. "Aren't you glad we didn't leave town?"

"I guess," she said softly. "I know that you probably thought I was overreacting, but I love you more than I love Beacon Hills. I thought that leaving it was the only way to keep you alive — keep you with me. And - and I'd still leave in a heartbeat for you."

Derek smiled and cupped her face gently, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "I love you too. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible after everything I had been through. And whatever comes next, we'll face it together. And if a day comes and you really do want to leave, we'll leave together."

"Where you go, I go," Willow whispered, covering his hands with her own.

"Where you go, I go."

☽︎

Peter paced restlessly down in the sewers while Kate watched, a bored expression on her face. He filled her in on everything, including the new developments with the Deadpool. The news that it was Peter's idea didn't really change their plan, but she wasn't surprised such a psychotic concept came from him.

"You look nervous," Kate noted.

"I'm not nervous," he snapped. "I'm rattled. I don't like being rattled."

"But it's over. The Deadpool's done. And, if you need to be reminded, everything else is going exactly your way," she said, refraining from rolling her eyes.

"Not exactly my way."

"Maybe every little piece in your game didn't move just as predicted, but they still moved perfectly into place," Kate reminded him.

She watched as Peter walked farther away. He stuck out his hand, letting water from a leak drip into his hand. She took note of the concentrated, conflicted expression on his face.

"You wanna bail on the plan," Kate said, narrowing her eyes.

"Of course not!" he said angrily. "Not when I'm this close... Not when I'm this close to killing Scott McCall."

"You know what I think?"

"I'd rather not," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I think you're all talk," Kate said, walking up behind him. "I think you're not the big bad alpha who ripped my throat out in front of my niece anymore. Wanna know why?"

Peter scoffed in annoyance. "If this is about me suddenly being a father, don't for a moment think parenthood has made me—"

"Oh, I'm not talking about Malia," she said, grinning viciously. "You've not had enough time with her. I'm talking about Willow."

She watched how Peter's back tensed and knew she struck a nerve. Kate pushed on his shoulder so that he'd turn and face her. Peter took a step back, but Kate only stalked closer.

"I wanna know what you're gonna do when sweet, little Willow bats those precious blue eyes at you and says, 'No, Peter. Don't kill Scotty,'" Kate continued, doing her best to mimic Willow's soft, pleading tone. "'Please. This isn't you. Not anymore. I can't watch you kill him.' What then, Peter? Because I think you'll fold like a lawn chair."

Peter clenched his fist, fighting against the pesky part of his mind that was already folding. "If Willow says she can't watch, then I'll say close your eyes."