Derek, Lydia, Scott, and Isaac stood, frozen. 

"No one move." The girl demanded. She was pale, a shade of pure white. Her lips looked a blue-ish purple color, her hair was a dark blonde, hanging loosely in her face. She had black circles under her green eyes. Her clothes consisted of wide, thick, dirty, white bandages wrapped around her body and a pair of dirty and torn black skinny jeans. She must have been around Stiles' age. Stiles observes the blade in her hand. The blade itself is carved out of pure white bone, the handle is made of a hollowed out and dirtier bone. It looks almost like an extremely short femur from what Stiles can see of it. He recognises it immediately. Derek approaches her slowly. 

"Don't hurt him." Derek warns. 

She moves the blade closer to Stiles' throat. In one quick movement, she slices. Stiles stares as blood hits the floor. She had pulled the knife away from his throat and cut Derek's arm instead. 

"I said, no one move." She adds. 

Derek glances down at his arm, expecting it to heal. Nothing. The cut continues to bleed. 

She shoves Stiles against a wall and he falls to the floor with a grunt. She immediately goes feral. She swings the blade rapidly. Kicking, punching, and shoving. Lydia falls to the ground, then Isaac, scott, and then Derek. Stiles opens his eyes and his vision starts to focus. The girl lifts Scott by his shirt collar, holding the blade to his heart. 

"Yo," a voice says. It's not Derek, Lydia, Scott, Isaac, or Peter. 

The girl turns around, dropping Scott to the ground. 

"Still can't defend yourself, huh, McCall?" The voice speaks again. 

Jackson. He turns into a werewolf, his eyes the same blue as Derek's. He growls and charges at the girl, claws out. He tears at her stomach with his claws but it heals. He kicks the girl hard, knocking her to the ground. She stands, a smug smile on her face. Jackson stabs her in the neck with his claws and watches as blood drips down her chest. She lets out a pained growl and retreats through the window, knife in hand. Jackson could see the wound on her neck already starting to heal. 

"Jackson!" Stiles yells. 

Jackson approaches Stiles, putting out his hand. Stiles grabs it and Jackson pulls him to his feet. "Stilisnki." He says with a smile. It's not the smile that Stiles was used to. It wasn't smug or cruel. No, it was sweet. 

"When did you get here!?!" 

"Just tonight." 

Instead of saying anything else, Stiles pulls him into a hug. The rest of the pack slowly rises to their feet. Lydia stares at Jackson, eyes wide. 

"Jackson?" She whimpers. 

"Lydia." He says. Something is different about him. The way he talks is sweet and kind. His personality seemed to have completely switched. 

Derek pined Jackson to the wall with his one good arm.

"Who was she!?! Why are the cuts not healing!?! Why are you back!?!" Derek shouts. 

"Woah, woah, woah. Clam down." Jackson replies. 

"I need some answers!" 

"C'mon, Derek. Clam down. You should just be happy that he was here to save us," Stiles says. 

Derek finally let him go and leaned against the wall. 

"Hey, big guy," Stiles beamed. 

Derek looked up at him, an angry look on his face. 

"You should let me clean that cut before it gets infected," Stiles said. 

"Fine." 

"Lets sit down," Stiles says, pointing to the sofa. Derek sits down along with Stiles. Stiles takes his arm and pokes it lightly, which causes Derek to flinch. "I think it's okay. Let's just get it cleaned up. Scott, can you get the first aid kit?" He asked. 

"Yeah." Scott says as he walks into the bathroom. He returns a minute later with a first aid kit and hands it to Stiles. 

Stiles takes out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and pours some on a cotton pad. He dabs the cut with the cotton pad and tries to ignore the muscly arm that his hand was wrapped around. He took a bandage and wrapped it around his arm, trying to hold back his smile. "There. Does it hurt?" 

"Not really," Derek replies. 

They patch up the rest of the pack, check Stiles for a concussion, and finally all sit down in the living room. 

"I guess I have some explaining to do..." Jackson admits. He rests his arms on his knees, revealing a scar in the shape of some foreign symbol just above his elbow.