-Chapter One-
Innocent.
Human.
Normal.
Who would describe Beacon Hill's own Scott McCall as an innocent and normal human being? The last time anyone has bothered to check, he somehow became the most known teenager in Beacon Hills. Maybe that has something to do with him squeezing in on a spot in Lydia Martin's cliche with his best friend, ex-girlfriend, and friend. Somewhere out there Scott McCall knew that there was a place where he belonged- where he didn't have to hid what he was doing at three in the morning on a school night. Sometimes he wonders if his mother even notices that he had been out in the woods for five hours, midnight to five in the morning. It'd be easier for him to leave if his father hadn't rode back in town only to finish an investigation as he worked as an agent in the FBI. The only reason his father would come back is because of his work and nothing else. Everything was simpler when he was sixteen- no girlfriend, no secrets to hide, and none of his friends were on the edge of letting go.
If you haven't heard the news, Scott McCall is a werewolf with his ex-girlfriend being a hunter that should have killed him, but a somewhat of a fairy tale played in, his friend, Issac, has recently been running from hunters as he was a werewolf along Scott, his other friend, Lydia, being a banshee, and his best friend, Stiles, having to balance the werewolf business along with his normal life. Sometimes he lays in his bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking- "What would my life be like if there was no bite?"
Maybe he'd be the loser he was before.
No friends, but one.
No ex-girlfriend.
No Lydia Martin cliche.
No being popular.
No skills in lacrosse.
No nothing.
The bite wasn't a gift- it was a curse.
Just yesterday he was notified of Allison's family, which was her father's side, moving into Beacon Hills after recently hearing of the animal attacks and the masked murders. There is just one thing that troubles the situation- they are hunters.
Of course.
Out of all the possible places for werewolves to be and for the hunters to choose from, it was Beacon Hills.
Sometimes it seems as if fate just had a thing for messing up Scott McCall's life.
Fate was out to get him.
After the Lunar Ellipse and becoming the true alpha, it had to be the next week that the hunters had to stroll into town.
Some luck.
Sitting in class, his hearing picked up a girl from halfway across the whole school tapping her pen on her book, her teaching going on about algebra. The gum chewing, it smacking in his mouth, he could hear the sound of a boy eating gum from the back of the room he was stuck in. Blocking his teacher's talking, he peeked down at his phone, watching it light up with a text message from the one and only Stiles Stilinski. Watching the teacher point to something on the board, he sneaked his hands up to his phone, tapping the screen as the text grew, it becoming the main focus on the screen as the words- "Sunday" came across the screen in bold white lettering, his heart fluttering at the word narrowing into his brain.
Sunday.
Two days away.
The hunters came on Sunday.
No warning, no preparation, no time, no nothing.
Just-
Sunday.
Highlighting the word, he brought it into a new text message, sending the word to Issac who was across the room, only two seats from Scott. Seeing his phone light up, he watched Issac read the word quietly, looking over at Scott who looked back to him.
"Little short on time. What took so long?"
The message showed up on Scott's phone not fifteen seconds after it was sent.
"Allison just got the word. Must have listened in on her father's calls again."
Scott sent the message to Issac, sliding his phone under his books as the teacher passed by, giving the call of two names out in the class.
"Since Issac and Scott are into texting, they can show us how easy it is to get detention," Turning his face to Scott, his eyes narrowed as he slapped down a paper on Scott's desk before doing the same to Issac, turning as he said, "Three. No later."
Growling, Scott crumpled the paper into his hand, placing it at the top of his desk as Issac shoved it into his book, clearly unhappy.
"Detention. Is he serious?" Issac asked as he shoved the slip back into his book, not believing he would be stuck in detention with Scott and not being able to prepare the best he could for Sunday.
"Let's try not to earn a week in detention. It's like torture being in detention and I can assure you that Stiles won't like it." Scott said as he stuffed the paper in the trash, not wanting to be reminded of the slip.
"Why don't we skip detention? It's a Friday. It's not like they'd hunt us down." Issac said as he swung his book to his left hands, holding it tightly.
"They either would find us before we leave or call my mom, making us spend our whole Saturday in detention, Issac. I'd rather take an hour or two than eight hours." Scott recalled the time he skipped his last detention, earning eight whole hours, stuck in a room with a teacher and Stiles.
It didn't end well for him or Stiles.
"There goes our preparing." Issac mumbled, sighing as he split off from Scott, both of them heading to their lockers.
Halfway to his locker, Scott found Stiles in the hall who questioned him about what they were going to plan after school.
The conversation didn't end well.
"Detention on a Friday." Issac growled as he dropped his bag into the farthest seat back, Scott being separated as he was told to sit in the seat up front, both of them apart.
"Believe me, I'd rather be at home with my family." The teacher said aloud, looking back to his papers before sneaking a peek at the two people in front of him.
Sliding out his phone, he pulled a book in front of him before placing his phone in the book, pretending to read as he sent a text message to Issac.
"Stiles said we're planning tomorrow. Allison can't make it."
Looking down at his phone, he saw the text, sending a reply.
"How can we plan something to keep away from the hunters in a day?"
Issac sent before he quickly grabbed a book, pretending to write down his homework once the teacher looked up to check on them.
"Stiles is doing some planning on his own for the time being. I doubt it'll end well."
Before Scott could put his phone back in his book, Issac sent a text to him.
"Stiles? Planning? On his own? Those don't go together."
Setting down his phone, he stared at the clock which had passed by the ten, showing him it was forty minutes until detention was over.
Hours don't pass fast enough.