A/N: Here I am, doing it again. Attempting another Teen Wolf story, but this time, it's full-length and it's also one of my first tries at a supernatural story. I welcome all reviews, good, bad, constructive criticism preferred if bad though.
One would think that with werewolves, shapeshifters, banshees, and the like running around Beacon Hills that things couldn't get any weirder. Well, they're wrong. A new kind of sinister supernatural force has arrived and it's going to take an outsider to help bring it down. But you're probably thinking... what kind of outsider can possibly help the already existent supernatural creatures take defense against this new breed of evil? Let me just tell you now, he's like nothing you've seen before.
The red Prius pulled up at Beacon Hills High School and the driver door opened, out stepping a short, mop-haired brunet. He walked to the trunk and opened it, pulling his backpack out from between the two duffel bags that he'd hurriedly packed. Shutting the cover with a moderate slam, Joel Richardson turned and took a glance at his new school, sighing.
"Well, here goes nothing."
Having just moved from Westerville, Ohio, Joel knew that, for the time being, he couldn't return home, especially after his latest crazy stunt. But, hey, someone had to save that kid from eternal public humiliation, even if it meant cracking a few preppie skulls. Joel meant well, even though his idea of good intentions brought a lot of grief on everyone else.
"What are you, the Lorax? Do you speak for the trees?" A tall boy in a lacrosse jersey sneered, shoving past Joel. The two guys with him laughed obnoxiously, but Joel, keeping his cool over his normally short fuse, only smirked.
"At least I don't run around, knocking into other guys to gain the upper hand for a rubber ball, now, do I?" The jock stopped and turned, green eyes focused intently on Joel. He walked back over, towering over Joel, who seemed completely unfazed by the impending threat.
"You clearly have no perception of what lacrosse is, do you?" Joel felt the handle of a lacrosse stick poking into his stomach.
"Ooh, that must be a big word for you. By the way, is that a lacrosse stick or are you just glad to see me?" Joel's smirk remained in place as he lightly pushed the jock backwards. "If you honestly believe that you're intimidating me right now, dude, you are sorely mistaken."
The jock made a move towards Joel, but one of his buddies grabbed his arm. "Jackson, don't. Some new kid's not worth it." The boy named Jackson yanked his arm out of his friend's grip and glared daggers at Joel.
"You're right," he spat. "Fucking dwarf isn't worth detention." He stalked off, the two guys in tow.
"Wow, you must have some kind of death wish, huh?" A voice said pointedly. Joel turned to see another boy, this one with dark hair, standing next to a Jeep.
Joel looked the boy up and down and, deeming him a non-threat, smiled. "Nothing more than an asshole jock. Trust me, I've dealt with loads of them before."
"None like Jackson, I'm sure, but that's a discovery all its own," the boy said. He grabbed his own backpack out of the Jeep's front seat and extended his hand to Joel. "Stiles Stilinski."
Joel accepted the friendly gesture and nodded. "Joel Richardson. I think you can already tell that I'm new here. Besides, if I keep up the way I just talked to that guy, I'm unlikely to be making very many friends."
"Anyone with enough cajones to mouth off to Jackson Whittemore is good in my book," Stiles said, putting an arm around Joel's shoulder and leading him inside. "My buddy Scott and I will show you the ropes." Joel followed, feeling accomplished that even within the first ten minutes of being at a new school, he'd made a friend, something he'd always had trouble with, granted his negative outlook on life and generally cynical attitude towards virtually everyone.
As Stiles guided him through the school, Joel looked around, taking in his new surroundings. From a distance, he saw Jackson talking to a strawberry-blonde girl who was actually doing more talking than he was. To his right was another dark-haired boy in a deep conversation with a brunette. Stiles steered him in their direction.
"Scott!" He called out. The boy looked up and grinned; the girl turned and gave Stiles an annoyed look.
"Stiles, of all the times that you had to yell across the hallway..." She started, but Stiles cut her off.
"Scotty, buddy, this is Joel," he introduced, pulling Joel in front of him. Joel cleared his throat nervously and smiled weakly.
"Um, hey," he murmured, looking down at his worn-out sneakers.
"And this is Allison, Scott's girlfr—" Scott elbowed Stiles and he shut up.
"Has he been talking your ear off?" Scott asked, a knowing smirk on his lips. Joel nodded slightly as Stiles looked mildly offended.
Joel detached himself from the small gathering and walked outside, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He put one into his mouth and flicked his lighter when he heard a quiet gasp. Looking around, he spotted a curly-haired boy sitting behind a dumpster.
"Are you okay?" Joel pocketed the lighter and bent down next to him. The boy scooted away quickly and Joel could feel him tense up as if he were going to attack him. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you." He lowered his voice and sat down where he knelt, keeping a fair distance between him and the boy. "What's your name?"
"I—Isaac," he whispered, looking at his hands.
"I'm Joel. I'm new here. I, uh, don't know why you're scared or upset, but just know that I'm not going to attack you or anything." Joel dug around in his backpack and found a pack of tissues, handing them to Isaac, who wiped his eyes. "When the news gets around here, and trust me, it will, you're going to hear things about me. Bad things. They're going to fuck the truth around and make me out to be the bad guy. You're hearing this from me first-hand: what I did was never intended to get as out of hand as it did. I'm not a bad guy. They just don't understand. No one does." He took a deep breath and opened his binder, tearing out a small piece of paper. He scribbled down his cell phone number and placed it on the concrete, halfway between him and Isaac. "I'll see you aroumd."
For the first few days, Joel was beginning to assimilate into Beacon Hills without any problems. Sure, he'd mouthed off to a couple people who gave him trouble, but overall, he was doing pretty well. Then the new week started and news broke of why the new kid showed up halfway through the semester.
Joel walked through the front doors and everyone was staring at him, mostly in fear but largely in awe.
"Oh, shit," he muttered. He held his head high and walked down the corridor, ignoring the whispers.
"He's a psycho."
"He's unstable."
"He's more creepy-looking now that we know what he did."
Joel bit down on his lower lip, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness, it would only get worse. He walked into his homeroom and, finding that he was the first one there, he exhaled and sat down.
"Hey, Joel!" A voice caught him off guard and he fell off his chair. Opening his eyes from his position on the floor, he saw Stiles grinning down at him, Scott beside him, shaking his head.
"Did you guys hear—?" Scott nodded. "Fuck."
"We barely know you, dude, but we don't believe what they're saying about you," Scott said, bending down beside Joel.
"We don't believe it either," a girl's voice said. Joel sat up to see Allison and the blonde girl he'd seen with Jackson. "Joel, this is Lydia." He smiled to her and pushed a hand through his hair.
"You don't need to tell us anything until you're ready to." Once he'd calmed down, Stiles sat in Joel's seat and leaned forward. "What'd you do?" he whispered, but Scott pulled him back up and gave him a look that silenced him.
"Look, things at my old school just got so crazy so fast that when I finally realized what I'd done, it was too late," he said, standing up. "I'm not crazy, and I'm not violent either. I just have a really short fuse, especially for people who think they're better than everyone else."
"We're on your side, man." Scott put an arm around Joel, who sighed.
At the same time, five more new students walked through the doors of Beacon Hills High School. Four boys and a girl, all dressed in black, the girl's red hair dyed scarlet. The students still milling the hallways stopped and stared. The tallest boy tilted his sunglasses down and looked around.
"He's here." The other four looked up at him. "Current location unknown, but he's here, somewhere in this school."