"You know what I don't get?" Stiles asked Lydia. He looked around only to find all of the wolves appeared to be asleep; Even Ethan had his head resting on Danny's shoulder, with his eyes closed. Satisfied that they had relative privacy he continued. "Why were the wolves the only ones effected?"
"Um... they're werewolves?" She said, with more than a hint of exasperation.
"Right, but that didn't stop plenty of non-werewolves from hallucinating after drinking the wolfsbane punch at your party, so why wasn't anyone else effected last night?"
"You were affected at the party? What did you hallucinate?" She asked, somehow sensing a juicy tidbit, only to be completely shut down by a rapidly paling Stiles.
"It doesn't matter, and I'm glad I didn't have another one, but the question remains, Why? I mean, when I was trying to get the coach to stop the bus he kept blowing that damned whistle right in my face, so I must have been coated in the stuff. So, why wasn't I affected?"
"There are any number of possibilities. The particular strain that was used might only effect wolves. You could have developed an immunity after being exposed to it. Perhaps you were effected and just don't realize you were hallucinating."
"The handsaw, maybe?" He asked, eyes widening.
"You did run at a crazed Alpha werewolf who was wielding a power tool, maybe you were imagining you were Superman, or something."
"First, do you not know me at all?" He said, his Batman fanboy was offended by the comparison for half a second before he pushed it aside and continued on. "And I didn't mean after I went into the room. When I first heard the sound of it... for just a second I was back in Deaton's office with that bone saw."
"Who in their right mind let you near a bone saw?" Lydia asked, eyebrows raised.
"Nobody let me. Derek was dying from a wolfsbane bullet, ironically enough, and cutting off his arm was our solid plan B, if Scott couldn't steal a bullet from Allison's crazy aunt. Luckily enough, for my sanity and Derek's muscular forearm, Scott came through, but for just a minute or two, I was certain I'd have to do it."
"And the saw last night..."
"When I first heard it, it was like I was back there again, and the weird thing is, I think I was kind of happy to be there." He said, more than a little confused as he thought back on the whole thing.
"Happy?" Lydia asked, sounding decidedly not happy.
"Not about the whole 'saw off an arm' part, but maybe happy that I still had a chance to save Derek."
Lydia got a strange look he couldn't quite interpret when suddenly a hand was on his shoulder.
"Stilinski, do I even want to know why my favorite whistle is laying in a parking lot ten miles behind us?" The coach asked, sounding like he very much didn't expect a coherent response.
"Bad luck!" Stiles blurted out, panicked and grasping at straws.
The coach raised one eyebrow at that. "Bad... luck?"
"Uh, yeah bad luck..." Stiles turned to look at Lydia, who looked more than a little exasperated. "Lydia isn't on the team, and it's really bad luck for someone who isn't on a coach's team to blow their whistle. Lydia blew your whistle so it had to go. We can't just let something like that jinx the whole team."
He was fairly sure the power of Lydia's glare was going to set him on fire.
"Stilinski, that had better not be some kind of euphemism. I have enough to worry about without that sort of accusation."
Stiles mentally reviewed what he'd said and then nearly fell out of his seat, while raising his hands in a warding off gesture. "NO! That was NOT what I meant, I swear!"
Finstock turned away in disgust just as Lydia gave Stiles a shove right off the side of his seat. With a cry and a squawk he flew onto the floor, and Lydia ran a hand on her hair and turned to settle in, satisfied.