Fight Till We Die

Intertwined

Some souls just understand each other upon meeting.

-N. R. Hart

Libby and Derek spent the weekend hunting. So far, they had minimal leads, and every time they thought they caught a scent, they came up short. Libby hadn't talked to Scott since Friday, despite giving him her phone number before leaving that night. Allison had been texting her about things as trivial as homework or getting lunch, and when Libby asked if Scott was okay, Allison said he seemed fine.

Libby had, however, heard from Stiles Stilinski. It seemed he got her phone number from Scott and had been texting and calling her all weekend about all things werewolf. She hardly had time to answer him, as she'd been hunting for the alpha with her brother most of her free time, but he was persistent.

She was walking to school that morning, the air feeling particularly nice when Stiles called her once more. She sighed deeply, letting the phone ring for a moment-debating if she should pick up or just talk to him when she arrived in twenty minutes-but ultimately decided to answer.

"What?"

"Did you know about Allison's dad?"

"What about Allison's dad?" She asked, being purposely obstinate.

Stiles sighed, loudly and dramatically over the phone, before Scott's voice came over the speaker. "Did you know he was the-" He lowered his voice, "The hunter. From the other night?"

She simply said, "I've never met Allison's dad."

Then came Stiles, "That's not what he asked," Libby rolled her eyes, both impressed and annoyed at Stiles' attention to detail. 

"Yes, I knew. No, I didn't think he would try to kill Scott. At least not so soon."

Scott's voice was muffled by echoing male voices, indicating that they were probably in the locker room for early practice, "You knew my girlfriend's dad would, eventually, try to kill me and you didn't tell me?"

"It didn't seem pertinent."

"Didn't seem...?" Scott trailed off, "Libby, you know this whole friend thing only works if you tell me things. I can't trust you to help me if you keep this stuff to yourself."

Libby's walk slowed to a stop as she mulled over his words. Logically, it made sense. She herself knew about trust and beheld a certain lack of it. Her siblings had been her only outlet since the fire, and it was only now coming to her how hard it would be to open up with Scott and Stiles. It was an uncomfortable feeling-knowing she was wrong. It felt like some sort of force on her body that she couldn't shrug away.

"I'm sorry." She paused. Libby continued walking, the crunching of fallen leaves beneath her feet. "Does he know he shot you?"

Scott sighed from over the phone, Stiles' voice coming through the speaker instead, "He doesn't know." His voice shifted, the sounds of the locker room echoing further away as if he'd moved away from Scott or the crowd.