The discussion had started out innocuous enough. Mundane dinner time chatter about school work or friends. There was the sly inquiry about the details for the next social event on the calendar, that lead to talking about the upcoming lacrosse championship game for the district. The kind of conversations parents try to have with their teenagers in order to avoid the real topic at hand. Talk of preliminary college decisions masking as insinuations for casual drug use or unsafe sex. The dialogue was drifting closer and closer towards the near constant parental worry about hanging with the wrong crowd, the bad kids, the losers.
In this family's case, it was werewolves.
Granted, they were the only family in the town that knew about werewolves. All the other families were the lucky ones, perhaps wondering if their kid was doing late night whippets at their new job at the ice cream parlor. This family, in particular, had to worry that their only daughter was dating a sixteen year old boy with psychopathic tendencies once a month.
Scott sat on the roof of the Argent family's house, a familiar spot near the window to Allison's bedroom. He hadn't meant to, but was listening in on the discussion taking place inside. He had rushed through his closing duties at work in order to come over to see his girlfriend. In hindsight, he was wishing he had done a more thorough job, seeing that coming here so quickly would not yield the results he had been fantasizing about all day.
Allison was upset. He hated to see Allison upset because, more often than not, he knew it was his fault.
If he brought it up, she would steadfastly disagree. It was her parents, they made her feel this way, she would tell him. Her heartbeat didn't lie, Scott knew she believed it to be true. He also knew that she wouldn't have these problems if she was able to date a normal boy. A boy that wasn't a werewolf hunted by her family.
Scott sighed, head resting in one hand, as he listened to Allison's parents trying to calmly tick off the reasons why she should not see Scott anymore. He reluctantly agreed with all of them. Yes, she could accidentally get bitten. Yes, he could kill her. Yes, she would be a target for anyone else trying to hurt Scott.
Wait. What? Scott wasn't expecting that one. Who else is out to get me? Peter and Kate are both dead.
Allison had the same thought, since she asked her father the same thing. She demanded it again, when Mr. Argent remained silent, Scott imagined a hard determination etched into his face, like usual. Finally he spoke, still avoiding answering the question directly.
"You've been put in harms way enough already, and it could have been avoided if you hadn't been involved with Scott."
On the roof, Scott cringed.
Argent continued. "Scott already told me how Peter Hale was tracking you to get to him." Scott heard him sigh, the gulp of beer he took breaking up the conversation. "I believe Scott when he says he's trying to protect you. But when he turns-"
"But," Allison interrupted, "Scott didn't let him. Scott stopped-"
"Barely!" Scott felt the thump on the dining room table, as Mr. Argent's fist came down, commanding attention. "You have no idea what the potential of this problem is. Scott is the only bitten werewolf you know. Derek Hale might be able to control himself, but Scott? You don't know what can happen. I do. And I'll be damned if I allow it under my own nose."
Scott stewed on the roof, hearing that piece of information. Everything came back to that. No matter how hopeful he got about getting back together with Allison, that was the one fact he couldn't change and everyone involved knew it. Scott felt like his wolf was a ticking time bomb but no one would tell him which wire to cut to diffuse it.
Before Allison could speak again, Mrs. Argent was the one to issue the ultimatum and end the discussion. "You are not dating Scott McCall anymore! It's the best for both of you. Now, you either do as we say or we'll be forced to move you back to San Francisco." Scott bristled, not sure whether it was because of the tone she used with Allison or the threat of taking her away from him. His fists clenched as claws threatened to come out.
His listened to his girlfriend's steady voice, surprised to hear it crack, pleading with her mother to get her to understand. Pleading doesn't work with Mrs. Argent. She demanded the family get back to eating dinner. Allison still tried to protest, to assert her opinion, just trying to get her parents to listen to her one last time.
"Allison." Scott could practically taste the venom in Mrs. Argent's clipped tone. "It's over."
The sinking feeling Scott had since he'd arrived hit a new low. He heard Allison get up from the table and place her plate in the kitchen sink. She would be coming upstairs to her bedroom within a minute. Suddenly, Scott realized that he didn't want to be there when she did. He didn't want to avoid her, but rather, the thing he knew he should have the balls to say to her if he wasn't so damn selfish.
He left his spot on the roof, allowing his shift to over take him as he jumped from the eaves of the Argent home and began to run into the woods, away from the very thing he desired. He wanted to run, to fight, to hunt some stupid animal, anything other than to think of the girl in that house behind him.
If he had stayed back another thirty seconds more, Scott might have chosen to go home instead of retreating into the woods. Scott wasn't the only one to run from the house that night.
