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CHAPTER ONE: The Beginning.

"Holyshit, is that―"

"Sage Connelly."

Everyone at Beacon Hills High School stoppedin their place when they saw the blonde get out of the Camaro. People around town heard word about her being back, but no one bothered to believe any of them until now―not when rumors around their town spread life wildfire. Ironic, considering fire was the reason she left in the first place. Sage Connelly was an unsolved mystery to most of Beacon Hills, just like the notorious Hale family. She, along with the two surviving Hales, disappeared one day after the big house fire. News of what happened went around for an entire year, but by that time, Sage Connelly was gone. After losing her parents and older brother, she up and became a ghost to Beacon Hills.

Stiles Stilinski dropped his hands from Scott's side by that point, his attention drawn from the large bite on his best friend's hip to the girl. She walked towards the school with her head down, shoulders curled into herself as she kept her eyes on her phone in her hands. The last time he saw her was in fifth grade; he remembered that day clearly, just like he remembered the wide smile that was on her face as she cheered at her older brother, Luke's lacrosse game. That was the night before the Hale fire the next morning.

That girl used to wear pigtails with different color ribbons, and a new dress every day of the week. The girl in front of him was not the same one he remembered. She was wearing a black, leather jacket that Stiles faintly recognized from somewhere, and a grey tank top with jeans. All dark colors that stung his eyes because it looked so wrong on her. Any sense of familiarity was lost to him. He ignored the lump forming his throat, blinking away his surprise as she kept her eyes on the pathway.

Stiles wasn't the only one shocked by her reappearance. Along with everyone else in the parking lot, Scott McCall watched her and wondered why she was back after so long. Neither one of them ever thought that she would return, they hadn't even considered it, so to have the reminder of their past friendship come back and hit them in the face was startling. Sage had been as dead to Beacon Hills as the rest of her family, making it all the more uncomfortable for Scott and Stiles that she was right in front of them once again.

Feeling the stares crawling up her spine, Sage finally raised her head and searched through the crowds of people she had once known. Then, her green eyes settled on two faces too familiar for her stomach not to churn in nausea. She was sure her face contorted, too deep in thought at the sudden feeling that washed over her. Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, she remembered. Her old friends. Her best friends. A picture of them laid in a box somewhere, left over from the small project she had in her backpack the day of the fire.

In the time that her attention was on them, she managed to run head-on into another person. "Watch where you're going, loser!"

Sage turned her attention over to the voice in a split second, eyes lighting with irritation. The teenage boy all but snarled the words, turning his attention away from his phone to see who slammed into him. He was more than ready to call out whatever lowlife decided to play target practice with his body. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes widened with the same surprise that everyone else had. Sage was less than pleased to recognize who he was, as well.

"I always knew you had a crush on me, Whittemore," she said, a slow and smug smile starting to spread across her face, "but I didn't expect to take your breath away."

She never got along with Jackson Whittemore when they were in elementary school. In fact, the two hated each other about as much as Lydia Martin and her did. Their personalities were always too different to ever like one another. That became obnoxiously clear with all of the near-fights any time she and Jackson were forced to sit together as a bonding exercise. Time-out was their most shared pastime. They were only eight. Imagine both of their surprise at running into each other at sixteen, Jackson incapable of processing words.

The student body thawed out around her as she spoke, admitting to themselves that she was real now that she opened her mouth. Jackson's eyes narrowed, glancing up and down at her in disinterest, before finally meeting her gaze again. Truth be told, he had no idea what to say to the girl. Finally, he nodded his head once and turned away from her. She briefly caught the attention of Danny Mahealani, surprised to find that he and Jackson now looked like the best of friends. She remembered when Danny always took her side when they were younger.

Sage stood in the same place, disoriented as she tried to adjust to the newness of everything. Part of her hoped that returning back to school and seeing her former friends (or enemies) would make things easier. She clung to the possibility that they wouldn't treat her any differently. However, she had been wrong, and Jackson confirmed all of her fears. She would be treated as a freak―the teenage orphan that couldn't handle the attention that came with it. They were only partially correct; she did leave because of her parents' deaths, but she was more than capable of handling it. She had to.

Shaking her head, she continued to walk towards the entrance and passed by Stiles and Scott on the way. They were too deep in thought to notice her now, although she hadn't been expecting either of them to shower her in "I miss you," anytime soon. Picking up a friendship left behind after six years was out of the question, especially one that Sage forgot about. The goal when they left Beacon Hills was to wash away any memory they had with the people in the town, leaving without a trace of goodbye.

"―if you're not going to believe me about the wolf, you're definitely not going to believe me when I tell you that I found the body."

Scott tried to speak quietly, but there had still been a small crowd of people walking alongside the pair that managed to catch the end of the sentence. Sage was one of them. She came to a stop when she heard him, saying the only words she wished never came out. A painful ache struck her heart, carrying an open wound that had yet to heal. Finding out the truth of Laura's death was a few hours deep, and trying to pretend that she was alright hurt even more. Being back in Beacon Hills was supposed to be temporary until they found Laura. Now, they were stuck here until they figured out what happened. That included building up the story that they were back for good, and high school was a part of that.

"Move it!" a kid hissed from behind her.

She blinked out of her haze, coming back to her senses as she realized she was holding up a few students trying to get inside. Muttering a small apology, she rushed through the doors, trying to swallow down the tears stinging her eyes. She forced herself to push down the memory of last night when she had to bury Laura. Laura, her sister and guardian, her protector and best friend. The woman that became a surrogate mother at only eighteen, taking care of her arrogant brother and a stray left behind. Laura, who deserved so much more than the death she got.

―――――――――――

Sage sat on the ground, numb to the cold as Derek continued to dig a six-foot hole. The part of Laura that they found was on the other side, but she refused to look in the direction. Dismantled as if she were less than human, Laura Hale's life ended abruptly and that was not something that she was ready to accept. The tears she let out were long dried up, frozen to her face and cracking every time she moved it.

She and Derek hadn't spoken since he came back, carrying a deceased Laura wrapped in a blanket. She was grateful he knew she wouldn't want to see her like that, and if he had it his way, he would never have involved her in the burial process. However, he needed her. The wolfsbane-coated rope sat at her side, waiting to be put around the expanse of her grave sight. Just as another shovel full of dirt was thrown to the side, she decided to finally speak.

"Mom and Dad were always there for your family," she said, blankly. Her arms tightened briefly around her knees. "Always. We spent so much time here, and I never realized why until...they were always there. I was supposed to be there for her, but I wasn't. That was my responsibility. I wasn't there, Derek."

Derek looked up from the grave, the shovel now abandoned in the dirt as he stared at her. He had seen Sage in distress enough in his life―there was the time when she was eleven and woke up constantly screaming from her nightmares, the time when she was fifteen and had her heart broken for the first time―but he could see this was different. He carried every bit of pain that she did over Laura, but he couldn't let it get to him. He was the only Hale left. Derek had the responsibility to take care of Sage now. They were the only family either of them had left, blood-related or not.

"You're sixteen, Sage," he said, lowly. His brows creased in obvious upset. "It has and will never be your job to save us from anything. No matter how much you believe it, it isn't. You couldn't have changed this if you tried. Laura made the decision to return to Beacon Hills. She made that choice. We tried to stop her...what you can do, what your mother did, does not mean you get to carry this burden. You don't protect us. If anything, it was always Laura and my job to protect you."

Sage didn't reply, watching him with grieving eyes as she took in every word he said. Derek returned her gaze, his lips pulling down as the urge to shield the blonde from the world grew. When he looked at her, all he saw was the small, ten-year-old blonde that day of the fire, staring at him wide and tearful-eyed. Even today, that was an image he could never get passed. Finally, she broke eye contact and went back to staring at the ground in front of her.

Derek continued to dig foot and foot until there was enough space to hide the pain that Laura Hale left behind. When finished, Sage was silent whilst circling her grave with the wolfsbane rope.

―――――――――――

"Name?" the receptionist asked, looking up and pushing the glasses further on her nose. "Oh! Sage Connelly, I presume? Mister Hale called last week about registering you for classes. Would you like your schedule?"

Last week? she thought. There hadn't been any plans on staying in Beacon Hills last week. The realization that Derek must have thought something like last night was going to happen hit her, and she ignored the urge to grind down on her teeth.

"Please," she muttered, ignoring the thought of Derek and her mother all at the same time.

The receptionist gave Sage a freshly-printed copy of her schedule just as the first bell rang. She offered to grab the principal or another staff member to show her around, explaining that there was another new student meant to arrive soon. However, she knew the high school like the back of her hand and rejected the offer quickly. The hallways were familiar enough, having the vague memory of entering the place so much during her brother's games when she was little. The numbers on the doors made it easy to find her English class in a few minutes. Still, the second bell telling her that she was late rang overhead.

Her footsteps stopped cold when she saw the door, clenching fists tightly against the schedule in her hand. She dreaded walking into a room full of staring people. Deciding to remember Derek's encouragement, she quickly pulled open the door and winced when it creaked loudly. Despite what some believed, she hated being the center of attention, and walking into the full classroom was hell.

"Miss Connelly. I heard that I would be having you in my class. Take a seat. I suppose you don't need introductions," Mr. Anderson, her new English teacher, said begrudgingly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Sage immediately moved to the aisles, trying to find an empty seat. "I do hope that your brother's behavior was not passed onto you. I understand it is your first day, but tardiness will not be excused again."

Sage stopped in her place. Her eyes stayed trained on the bulletin board in front of her, full of Shakespeare quotes. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it wll break. Fitting. The schedule in her hand tightened instinctively. Really, she should have expected Anderson's comment about Luke. He had been a troublemaker in school, but the audacity that the man had to bring him up lit up an annoyance in her that could not be silenced. The teenagers in the last two rows stared with wide eyes, no doubt questioning if they were in the line of fire.

"Sorry to disappoint, Mister Anderson," she said, coldly. "He died before he could teach me his conniving ways."

Instead of turning to face him, she continued on her way to the first empty seat that she could find. Sliding into it, she finally looked to the front of the room with a red face of frustration. Mister Anderson had turned his attention his desk, face flushed from embarrassment as he tried to busy himself with the papers. Turning away from her dick of a teacher, Sage looked to see that Stiles was staring at her from a few rows over. He wasn't very subtle about it, gawking at her like it was the first time he ever saw a girl. The intense gaze made her more uncomfortable than the short interaction before school started. She, at the very least, hoped he would understanding how horrible it was to have people stare. He didn't, though. So, she stared back.

He has changed a lot since the last time she saw him — although, almost everyone has. His hair was buzz cut, something that Sage doubted looked good on anyone up until she saw how it suited him in a way. It had previously been a messy bunch on top of his head in fifth grade, where the possibility of seeing his eyebrows was shot out the window. Now, she was able to see just how golden brown his eyes were from far away. She also noticed how they were not lit like they once were. Worn down, she was struck with the brief memory that Stiles had also lost a parent. Claudia Stilinski's funeral happened a year before the fire; that was the first time Sage had ever been exposed to death of any kind.

Realizing they had been staring at each other a lot longer than appropriate, Sage turned her head as Anderson began to speak to the class. "As you all know, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various scenarios as to what happened, but I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody — which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester."

Suspect.

They had a suspect. Derek better not have gotten his ass thrown in jail, because God forbid, she was the only one left to break him out if that happened. She was way too young to be a fugitive. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, Sage sent the impulsive man a quick text to make sure that he hadn't actually been arrested. At the rate of luck they were having, the possibility was more likely than she would have liked.

While everyone else began to glance over the syllabus, she watched in confusion at Scott shot forward in his seat like something startled him. When he glanced back at her, she wanted to whisper what the hell was wrong, but bit down on her tongue. She had no reason to ask if he was alright, and he had no obligation to tell her.

She stopped looking at Scott when the classroom door opened, and the vice principal came in with a nervous brunette at his side. Sage couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Just minutes ago, she endured the same struggle of being the center of attention. The only difference was that while she actually was new, Sage was not. That girl had the chance to start over with a clean slate, become a completely difference person than who she was before. That was the only good thing about a new start in a new town. No one knows you, and no one knows who you were before.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome," Vice Principal Collins introduced, sending Allison a small smile in reassurance.

He left after that, dropping Allison off to fend the stares on her own. Sage resisted the urge to glare at some of them, noticing the boyishly-immature looks that Allison was getting and the familiar stares of the Lydia Martin wanna-be's. She didn't see why people couldn't mind their own business. Allison looked nice enough, but it was going to take her a few days to settle into the new scenery by the way she kept her head down. Sage watched as Allison quickly retreated to the first open seat that she saw, which was a row over and two seats up from Sage's place in the very back. Allison sent her a quick, uncomfortable smile when she noticed Sage.

Scott turned around the second the new girl took a seat, offering up a pen to Allison who smiled and thanked him in mild confusion. Sage snorted in amusement. She never thought she would see the day where Scott McCall pulled his moves out on a girl. He was always the one afraid to even begin a conversation with her when they were younger, much less actually find the courage to give a pretty girl a pen. A vibration came through her pocket and she quickly ducked her head to read the text message.

From: DEREK HALE

Have just a bit of faith in me.

Highly unlikely.

―――――――――――

"Where the hell are you, asshole?"

Sage hissed into the phone as she sat near the double-doors outside. She had yet to see the familiar Camaro anywhere, and she was beginning to grow more pissed off at her best friend the longer she sat. After waiting two hours after the final bell, her patience wore thin. The parking lot was practically abandoned, aside from the few cars that belonged to the lacrosse team. They, by the way, were just finishing practice and that added more fuel to the flame. And her phone was about to die.

"I'm on my way. I got a bit caught up. Just start walking home. I'll find you," Derek reassured just before the line went dead.

"You want me to walk? Derek, I swear―"