Winnie sat in her car the following morning, outside of the school while leafing through her drawings from the night Gerard had visited her. She ran a thumb along her bottom lip, not noticing the blue Jeep pull up next to her.

Only one image bothered her, it enough to cause her to stare at it for five minutes straight.

Winnie jumped slightly at the knock on her window, looking over to find Scott outside the door with his backpack over his shoulder. She shut her sketchbook, slipping it into her bag. Climbing out of the car, she put a thin envelope in as well, greeting Scott and Stiles.

"It's a secret show," Stiles told Scott as he met both him and Winnie in front of the Jeep. "There's only one way and it's a secret."

"Rave tickets?" Winnie asked as she and the boys started to head towards the school. "I-"

"Hey."

The three looked over their shoulders, turning as they found Matt walking up to them.

"Any of you guys know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?" he asked the trio.

"Just forget about it," Stiles told him. "Nobody got hurt."

Matt gave Stiles a look, "I had a concussion."

"Well, nobody get seriously hurt," Stiles said condescendingly.

"I was in the ER for six hours," expressed the photographer with annoyance.

"Hey," snapped Stiles," do you want to know the truth, Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high," he leaned down and practically on the ground, "on our list of problems right now."

Winnie sighed even though she found Stiles' demonstration funny. "Are you okay?" she asked Matt sincerely.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," he replied. "So," he looked to Scott, "you didn't get any tickets last night either?"

Scott lightly shook his head, "Are they still selling?"

"No, but i managed to find two online," said Matt in response. "You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone's going to be there."

Staring annoyedly as Matt left smugly, both Winnie and Stiles said, "I don't like him."

Stiles glanced to Winnie for a moment before looking to Scott as he started to walk away. "Hey, are you sure about this?"

Scott hesitated, absently holding the straps of his backpack. "Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody because he didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's going to do this time?"

Stiles let got of a sigh, knowing Scott was right. "Be there to make sure it happens."

Winnie huffed, starting to head towards the main doors of the school. "Super."

¥ ¥ ¥

In the locker rooms after pre-class lacrosse, both Scott and Stiles were scrounging for tickets. Mid attempt to get Danny to help, Coach Finstock burst into the locker room from his office.

"Can anybody tell me where the hell Jackson is and why he missed morning practice?"

Stiles' eyes flickered to Scott, keeping his voice low. "I thought I told you to keep an eye on him."

"Stilinski!" yelled Coach as he heard Stiles' voice. "Jackson?"

"Sorry, Coach," said Stiles on the spot, "I haven't seen him since the last time I saw him."

Already irritated, Coach asked, "Oh, and when was that?"

"Last time I saw him...was definitely the time I saw him last." He lightly closed his eyes, knowing it was the absolute worst excuse he could've pulled out of his ass.

Coach leaned down a bit to meet Danny's eyes at sitting level. "Again. Danny, tell Jackson no missing practice this close to championships, okay?"

"Sure, Coach," agreed Danny with a light nod.

Coach straightened up, looking around at his players. "That goes for all of you," he said before retreating back into his office. "I should be coaching college," he remarked in a mumble before shutting the door.

Danny looked back to Scott and Stiles, picking up their conversation again. "Sorry, but I only got two myself."

"Do you even have a date, man?" asked Stiles quickly.

Danny glared at Stilinski briefly, "I'm working on it."

"Okay, okay," Stiles tried. "Hear me out. You give us the tickets and devote your life to abstinence and just-"

Both Stiles and Scott had a strong grip suddenly hit them, Isaac holding them by their jerseys.

Isaac, in his maroon practice gear, looked between them. "How do you two losers even survive?"

Stiles irritatedly gaped, annoyed with Lahey like usual.

Scott let go of an exasperated sigh, "What are we supposed to do? No one's selling."

Isaac looked across the room, seeing two guys exchanging tickets. He let go of them, patting Stiles on the chest as he half smirked. "Wait here, boys."

"What is he gonna-" Scott stopped, James hitting a locker with a crash.

Stiles winced, "Yep-" another clatter sounded, "That's excessive."

However, the noises didn't stop.

"That'll bruise," remarked Stiles as Scott watched with an open mouth. "Ow, okay."

Isaac walked back over, sticking a ticket for the rave to each of their chests. He patted them with a smug grin before turning around. "Enjoy the show."

¥ ¥ ¥

Winnie, sat down in the hall below her locker, was staring at her sketchbook. She'd come early, and with the library currently closed, she hadn't many options of where to spend her extra fourty-five minutes. She wasn't really sure why she'd come early, but there she was.

Her finger traced the graphite lines, it entrancing her in a way that was rare. She could sense that it was unlike her other drawings.

She almost always drew near the future if not only an hour before.

Winnie, however, knew this one picture wasn't the case.

It was distant; far off without a time stamp.

The last time she'd seen that far into the future, someone died.

Winnie glanced up, finding people beginning to arrive for the school day. She shuffled up from the ground, dusting of the back of her dark jeans as she did.

Still, her eyes drifted back down to the drawing.

Oddly distracted from those around her, Winnie reached into her bag. She fished out a pen from next to the envelope holding her ticket to the rave, scrawling a sudden title next to her sketch of an elegant and haunting mask.

Oni

¥ ¥ ¥

Scott looked at the bottle his boss held, he and Stiles at the vet clinic with Winnie after school. "Ketamine?"

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs," said Deaton as he set it and a syringe on the table, "just a higher dosage. If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time." He brought out a bottle of black dust, showing it to the three. "This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for you, Stiles." He placed the jar on the table next to the ketamine. "Only you."

"Uh," Stiles uncomfortably said, "that sounds like a lot of pressure. Can we give this to Winnie and find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?"

"It's from the mountain ash tree," Deaton told him, "which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural." He motioned around, "This office is lined with ash wood, making it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."

"Meaning what for me?" questioned Winnie curiously. "I'm not really...supernatural."

"Some beg to differ when it comes to shining," Deaton countered. "With a shine like yours would be risking if this would work or not."

"Okay," Stiles set down the mountain ash, "so then what? I just spread this around the whole building an then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"

Deaton lightly nodded, "They'll be trapped."

Winnie looked over to Stiles, standing next to him. "Doesn't sound too hard, Stilinski."

"Not all there is," interrupted Deaton. "Think of it like gunpowder. It's just until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles."

"If you mean light myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that," Stiles remarked.

Deaton softly smiled, "Let me try a different analogy. I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

Stiles felt like he was being weighed down. "Force of will."

"Hey," Deaton said as he saw the doubt in his face, "if this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it."

Stiles took a deep inhale, nodding. Believe, he thought.

Winnie, however, had a drawing of an incomplete circle and only a handful of mountain ash. She, more than the others, was worried about how to the night would turn out.