Winnie shut the front door of the Jones' home behind her, still soaked and with three paintings under her arm. She kicked off her boots, careful not to hit the scratch on the back of her ankle. Blowing a wisp of hair from her face, she walked upstairs to her bedroom.

The night had been eventful, to say the least.

As Winnie flicked on the light to her room, she found the space empty. In honesty, she'd been expecting-

"Winowna."

And as Winnie put her newest art pieces in her closet, she saw her father in the doorway. Bare foot and in wet clothes, she held a harsh look. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"You've already tried that line on me tonight, Dad. I'm not interested in you trying to cover your own ass." Winnie had lost her curls from the water and tied up her hair into a bun. "It's late, I just want to take a shower and go to bed, if you don't mind."

"I do mind, Win," Aaron said without stepping into her room. He was still in reminents of a suit; a white button up tucked into dark trousers and a fancy watch on his wrist. "No, I haven't told you everything, but-"

"But what?" Winnie shot back in question. "You know i'd find out. You knew that I would draw something linking you to all of this!"

"Winnie, you don't understand."

"You supply killers with weapons! What more is there to understand?"

Aaron held eye contact with his daughter, "How much have you seen?"

Winnie scoffed, "Jesus Dad, how guilty are you trying to make yourself sound? I know that you supply Argent Arms and that we didn't come here because you wanted to watch your company, but because the Argents called you as backup."

"Win, just come downstairs and we'll talk about it," Mr. Jones asked nicely in an unangered tone.

Hesitating, Winnie glanced to the bathroom before returning to her father. "May I take a shower, first?"

Aaron nodded, "I'll be in the den."

"Okay," replied Winnie softly. She waited until her dad was gone, shutting the door behind him and proceeding to take a set of pyjamas to the en suite.

She showered in under five minutes, getting all the chlorine out and replacing the scent with strawberries. Winnie slid into gray sweats and a Mallory Lacrosse tee, letting her damp hair hang as she went down the staircase.

Aaron sat in the den, two coffee mugs sitting out. Leaned back in a leather recliner, he was absently spinning a family ring around his finger.

Winnie sat down on the sofa across from him, folding a leg underneath her. She didn't touch her coffee, but instead looked to her father. "Have you rehearsed your speech?"

"Win, why don't you trust me?"

"Because I barely know you," she said over him. 

Aaron immediately silenced, a shocked look hitting him. "What do you mean you barely know me? I'm your father."

"I see you maybe six times a year, or whenever the hell you feel like coming home. You rarely call, you're only home for a week or two when you're around. You missed mine and Pete's birthday three years in a row and you've never once acted like you care about the fact Pete's an excellent lacrosse player or that Mom is doing an incredible job of raising us." Winnie swallowed heavily, having to stop herself. "It's like," she had to breathe before going on, "it's like you're a ghost. I don't always recognize you when you come home, and now..."

Aaron blinked away a glossy coat that had reached his eyes. "And now what, Winnie?"

"And now that I know about your involvement with the Argents, you really are a stranger to me." A tear slipped over Winnie's cheek, causing her to look away from Aaron.

"They, uh," Mr. Jones cleared his throat, "they actually do sell weapons to law enforcement."

Winnie's eyes narrowed, water brimming at the edge. "What?"

"The Argents," said Aaron. "They do actually sell guns to police. It's not just a cover. It's a family profession, they've done it for generations and your grandfather, who began Jones Inc. was at a business meeting in Prague when he was attacked by an angry partner who happened to be something called a wendigo. The Argents were there, and they saved him."

Winnie wiped under her eyes, trying to force away her tears. "Are you vouching for them or yourself?"

"I've never trusted anyone with my life more, Win," Mr. Jones told her. "They follow a code."

"You clearly missed a memo, Dad. There hasn't been a code since Gerard got to town."

Aaron hesitated, "They're at war-"

"A war caused by them!" Winnie practically yelled. "Kate Argent was a psychopathic murderer, just like her father. Chris is the only decent one out of them!"

"Winnie," Aaron said as his daughter rose, "please sit down."

The girl's jaw clenched, "You do realize not all supernaturals are bad people, don't you?"

"They're not people to begin with-"

"Right there." Winnie was livid. "That's right there. They're brainwashing you, don't you get that? Those hunters, they're playing God. They're deciding who lives and who dies, and you're on their side."

"Winnie, please."

"They're trying to kill teenagers, and they're willing to do it." Winnie wouldn't stop; her fuse blown to hell. "I'm surprised they haven't tried to kill me yet."

Aaron's eyebrows lifted, "Why would you say that?"

"Do you consider my 'talent' normal, Dad?" Winnie narrowed her eyes at Aaron. "You haven't told them."

Mr. Jones kept a flat expression, still sitting with a nearly empty coffee mug in his grip.

"Wow, just wow. This is the plot for a terribly written book. Someone in league with monster hunters doesn't tell said hunter that the daughter he brought with him practically goes comatose and paints the future."

"They wouldn't kill you."

"Just like they follow a code that says they'll only kill an adult with solid evidence?" Winnie shot back with eyes lit by anger. "You haven't told them about me because you know I'd become a page in their beastiary and dead for their sport." She began to leave the den but stopped at the doorframe. "If they start hunting me, you better kill me yourself."

¥ ¥ ¥

Winnie sat on the hood of her car, it two mornings since she'd spoken to her father. She had her sketch pad on her lap and graphite staining the side of her right hand.

She checked her watch, having to pull up her jacket sleeve to see that it was a quarter til 8. She slid the Army green material back down before looking to her sketch. Irritated, she shut the book and climbed off the hood of the Malibu.

The Chevy came to life at Winnie's command, prepared to leave for school. She clipped her seat belt and warmed the heaters after connecting her aux cord.

Winnie ran a hand through her bouncy curls as Arctic Monkeys filled her car, the brunette shifting gears into drive. Taking her foot off the break, she moved from her spot out on the street and headed for the high school.

She'd not said a word to her father, and Aaron hadn't pushed the subject.

Winnie pulled up around the back of the school, not surprised to see Roscoe, Stiles' Jeep. She parked next to him, just outside of the swimming pool building. Only taking her car keys with her, she went up to the ajar entrance door.

"Come on," Stiles murmured, using an extended pool cleaner to fish at the bottom of the lap pool.

"Trouble?" Winnie asked as she walked into the chlorine scented space.

Stilinski looked up, recognizing the brunette. "Hey, uh, yeah sort of. I'm trying to get my phone but it doesn't want to be picked up."

"Want me to try?" Winnie asked as she made her way over to him.

"Yeah, go ahead," Stiles said as he handed over the blue rod. "How did you know I was in here-"

Winnie only smiled, glancing over as she saw the look of realization on his face.

"Right, nevermind." Stiles ran a hand over his buzz cut, "Painting or drawing?"

"Drawing," she told him. "Sketch of you in here, fishing my beanie out."

"That's so cool," he said in response.  

Winnie poked the edge of the phone seven feet below water, it flipping into the netting basket. "And we have a winner."

"There's not much of a chance it'll still work, is there?" Stiles questioned dismally as he let out a sigh.

"Sorry, Stilinski but it's one in a billion," Winnie told him as she pulled the cleaning rod out of the pool. She angled the net towards him, letting Stiles reach in and grab the phone out. "How come you didn't get it yesterday?"

"Couldn't. They locked up the pool since they had to clean up the shattered class," he told her as he shook the drips off his phone.

Winnie looked up to the ceiling, the hole made by the kanima evident but covered up by a tarp. "Right, that."

"Hey, have you talked to Allison yet?" Stiles asked as Winnie put up the cleaning rod on the wall. "Like, does she know about you?"

"I told her yesterday but I made her promise not to say anything about it to her parents," she replied. "She took it pretty well. Plus, she'd read The Shining so it was a little easier."

Stiles handed over her beanie, it damp and reeking of chlorine. "It's still bizarre to me that it's based off your uncle."

Winnie smiled, "You'd be even more impressed if you read the book. The powers are a little more explained."

The buzz cut boy lifted an eyebrow, "Meaning?"

"Meaning I can tell you were skeptical of me the night before last and even a little right now. And that you hope you brought lunch money."

Wide eyed, Stiles opened up the door they'd come in out to the parking lot with only their vehicles. "No."

"Yes, Stiles," she said in return with a light smile. "I know what you're thinking, literally."

His face lit up a little boy on Christmas morning. "That is so cool."

Winnie only smiled, stopping by her car. "Catch you in a bit in history. By the way, Jackson's going to go talk to your dad before second period if you want to go listen in." She climbed into the Malibu and headed over to the student lot not too far away.

Winnie turned off the engine of her car but didn't immediately climb out once she had parked. She leaned over, fitting her sketch book into her bag. She tapped a finger absently, a tick to her as she felt nervous. 

She wasn't quite sure why she was nervous, but she was.

Winnie got out of her Malibu, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she locked up the vehicle. She weaved through the parking lot and made her way up to the front of the school.

The morning was overcast, but it wasn't out of the ordinary in late winter in California.

The brunette stopped at her locker, exchanging out what she needed for her first few classes. She went up on her tiptoes, pulling down a piece of folded paper on the top shelf of her locker that was sticking out. With furrowed eyebrows, she unfolded it.

Winnie ignored the scrawl on the paper and stuffed it away in her bag. Slamming the locker door shut, she went to class and pretended she hadn't read the meeting request.

As an hour passed, Winnie had taken notes and stayed content. The bell rang overhead, causing Winnie to stop her sketch of Lydia holding a key in her hand, it one she began after finishing one of Allison putting some type of liquid, venom maybe, on an arrow.

Winnie left her homeroom, dodging students who couldn't take two seconds to look at their surroundings. She went in the open door of Mr. Westover's room, the girl grabbing a spot in the second row not too far from the back.

"I take it you didn't see my note?"

Winnie tensed all over, a leather jacketed body sitting in the seat next to her. She looked over hesitantly, meeting eyes with Isaac Lahey as Scott slowly walked into the room. She glanced back to a worried Scott as the wolf sat behind her.

"It was your locker, right?" Isaac asked Winnie with his annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes on her. "394?"

"I saw the note," Winnie replied tightly.

Isaac only smirked, leaning back and facing forward.

Stiles skidded into the room, grabbing a seat behind Scott. "Dude, I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I've got really terrible, horrible, very very bad news."

Scott turned to him, "I think I already know."

Stiles followed Scott's extended finger, his eyes widening as he saw Isaac sitting just a bit ahead.

Winnie, well Winnie simply groaned and hit her head against her desk.

- I am so in love with this story oh my god I absolutely adore writing it! I hope you're all having a great day/night! Xx -Mel