Obligatory I don't own Teen Wolf (or any other referenced fandoms) disclaimer. Now with translations!

Stiles Stilinski is hanging upside down from the back patio and Scott has a baseball bat in his hands like he's waiting for the kid's head to turn into a piñata full of Mazapan and chicle instead of a skull full of brain matter and snot. It's only by chance I saw the idiots, having come into the kitchen because, well, that's usually where people keep the food. But really, with the overwhelming lack of preservation between the two of them, I shouldn't have expected anything else.

I take a breath to mentally prepare myself. After all, one needs to be in peek condition to pull off the perfect Mexican Mom Voice™ .

"Qué están haciendo?!" I throw the door open with a bang as it slams into the outside wall. Both boys let out shrill screams that could put piccolos to shame. Stiles, poor spastic child that he is, does an excellent expression of a startled baby bat before he loses his footing and disappears behind the rail.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaims, rushing to the edge and looking over to where his friend is no doubt lying in a heap.

"Oh my god!" I gasp, doubling over and clutching at my sides. "Sti-Stiles, dude!" I try to move to the rail to make sure he's still alive, because I can't say I'm too keen on the idea of the death of the Sheriff's kid being on my head, but I can barely breathe from laughing so hard. I only manage to shuffle forward a couple inches before Stiles springs up, and my laughter only hardens and my progress halts completely at the dark expression on his face. He tries so hard to be scary and yet, nothing.

"I could have broken my neck!" he snaps. The noise that comes out of my mouth is not human. More like heated tea kettle. "You don't even care!"

I throw my head back and let out one last cackle before taking a breath and calming down, patting my belly melodramatically. "Oh my lanta, your faces! I wish I had that on video."

"Ares, what are you doing here?" Scott demands, brows furrowed. I arch a brow and cross my arms, lean my hip against the rail of the patio next to where Stiles stands.

"Well, I live here now, you see."

He rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I just got off work. Tara sent me home after a call. You know, the nice deputy lady I work the front desk of the Sheriff's station with sometimes?" I make a point to look at Stiles. There's no way he wasn't listening in when Tara called the Sheriff about the body found in the preserve. He stares back with wide eyes that try to be innocent but really come off eccentric. "Something you wanna share?"

Scott shuffles and I turn my gaze to him. He's got the weaker willpower of the two when it comes to staving off guilt. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, and I know I chose wisely. Stiles drops his shoulders and rolls his head to the side in annoyance.

"Dude, seriously?" He looks up to me with pleading eyes. "Ares, please, you gotta let us go!"

I cock my head to side, feign deep thought. "Yeah, about that. No."

"Ares!" Scott exclaims, throwing his arms to his sides and really. I thought he was past the tantrum stage.

"Que no," I say firmly, looking at both of them incredulously. "Están locos? You don't know what you'll find out there!"

Stiles lifts a finger. "The plan is to find the body."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you kidding me, Stilinski? Did it maybe occur to you that what put the body there could still be there?" He let his finger drop. "Or the fact that this one," I gesture to Scott with an arm, "stops breathing if he so much as thinks too hard?"

"Hey!"

I ignore him, because where is the lie? "Not to mention how incredibly disrespectful the entire thing is," I go on. "My tia Lettie said this is how people get haunted and you're gonna get cursed or something," I warn them. Scott rolls his head back in an exaggerated eye roll. This isn't the first time he's had to deal with my superstition, but shit rubs off when you've heard about it your whole life. "Also," I turn to Stiles, "what if your dad finds you?"

Stiles makes a face. "We'll be careful. Look, you haven't even been here a full year, but do you really think this is the first time we've done something like this?"

Scott opens his mouth to agree. "You better think about your next words carefully, mijo, or they'll end up being your last words." His mouth shuts with an audible snap. Neither boy moves or speaks, and a tense silence falls in until Stiles throws his head back and groans in frustration.

"Ares, why do you have to be such a mom about this?" he demands, voice rising in pitch with a whine, and I'm reminded that these nerds are only children and don't know the curse of older siblings. Well. That's about to change.

"I wouldn't have to be the adult here if you two wouldn't do such stupid stuff," I counter.

Stiles scoffs. "Being nineteen doesn't make you an adult."

"I'm legally obligated to stop you!"

"Ares, please?" Scott pleads I turn to face him and shit. Shit, he's got the puppy dog eye thing going on. "We'll be careful." He brings up the bat in his hand. "I'll bring this if you're worried about the killer still being out there."

"I'll even let Scott hold the flashlight," Stiles interjects.

"Stiles, I will stab you," I snap, pointing a finger at his chest. He raises his hands and takes a step back. The beginning of a headache makes itself known with the ever growing pulses at my temples and I have to ask myself if it's even something I should fight them over. "Ay, Melissa is gonna kill me." I rub my face with a hand. "Look, here's what's gonna happen, alright?" Both boys lean forward eagerly. I should just knock their heads together and be done with it. "We're going inside. You two are going to Scott's room, I'm staying in the kitchen, because I seriously haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm about to die, my blood sugar's so low." Scott's face falls like I just told him he was never allowed to see Stiles again, and I feel is it isn't because of my questionable eating habits. "If you two happen to not be in said room by the time I get done, well, I don't see how that can be helped." I arch a brow at Stiles, because while I love Scotty, from what I gather it's Stiles that has always been the brains.

Stiles throws his arms up in victory. "Yes! You're the best, Ares!" He vaults over the rail, grabs Scott's arm and pulls him inside. "I owe you. Seriously, next time you need something illegally obtained, hit me up," he calls over his shoulder.

I snort, shaking my head at him. "Yeah, like I need you to get illegal shit," I mutter following the boys in and locking the door behind me. "But whatever, I'm sure it'll come in handy after Melissa has already murdered me. Of course, I'll already be in jail, as the Sheriff would have arrested me for the endangerment of minors. That's a thing, right?"

I don't get an answer, because the boys already disappeared. I move to the fridge, throwing open the door to search for food. The boys' footsteps are heavy on stairs. It's like they aren't even trying to be careful. I shake my head, trying to pin the knot in my stomach on hunger.

"I just fucked up, didn't I?"

"Nooo, mi tortaaa!" My phone screams in my ear right as I'm about to drop off to sleep.

"Wha' the fuuuck?" I demand to no one as I push myself up onto my elbows, sweeping my hair out of my face with one hand and reaching for the offending device with the other. "Who the hell? Son of a fuck!" My eyes snap shut at the sudden light of a thousand suns as a new message comes through. Once I'm sure that my retinas haven't been burned to hell, I slowly open my eyes.

Stiletto (2 new messages)

"Oh my god, fuckin' Stiles, why?" With a quick swipe, the messages pull up.

So my dad found me, Scott's still out there
You might want to make sure he's alive

It takes a second for the words to make sense. Once they do, I let my face fall into my pillow.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" The scream is muffled through the pillow. I take a moment to compose myself before throwing off my covers and jumping up. Almost immediately the room tilts. "Oh, too fast, too fast."

The second I'm sure I won't fall flat on my face I flick on the Scentsy on my nightstand, the room dimly lighting up. Enough for me to see my hoodie thrown on my trunk under the window.

"I'm killing both of those pendejos," I mutter, pulling the hoodie on before snatching my phone off my bed and pulling up the contacts as I stuff my feet into my slippers and grab my keys from my nightstand. I told them, didn't I? Bad juju to go looking for dead bodies, but nooo, let's not listen to Ares. Finding Human Puppy on my phone, I press call, rushing down the stairs as quickly as I dare in the dark.

"Ares?" Scott's voice comes out slightly wheezy and panicked and shit, he's gonna die. He's gonna die and I'm the one that let him.

"Donde estás?" I demand, keeping my own worry and fear out of my voice, as I throw open the front door and lock it from the inside before letting it slam shut behind me and seriously. Thank god Melissa is still at work. "Stiles texted me."

"He-he did?"

"Yes, pendejo, he did," I snap, jumping into my car-the gloriously green old Ford Explorer lovingly dubbed the Turtle-and sticking the key into the ignition. "I'm coming to get you, so where are you?"

Scott brings up one hand to shield his eyes from my headlights and the other pressed to his side when I pull up in front of him. He's standing on the side of the road, the highway, and at least he's got the brains to stay back enough so that some drunk won't go and run him down. I throw the Turtle into park and jump out, not minding the rain.

"Que te dije?" I demand, marching up to him. "I said they'd find you, didn't I?" He ducks his head and shuffles to the passenger side of the car. My eyes drop to where his hand is still at his side. "What happened?"

"Nothing, can we just go now?"

"Scott-"

"Ares, I'm fine! Let's just go!" With that he jumps in the car, slamming the door shut behind him. I stare after him for a second before taking a breath and mirroring his action. Before I get the door closed a long, lonely howl rings out from the trees.

"What the fuck?" I slam the door shut and flick the lock into place. Scott leans forward and squints his eyes as he looks out the window.

"You hear that?"

"If by that you mean the Hell Hound howl, then yes, yes I did," I answer, putting the car in drive and doing a quick u-turn to get the seven hells out of there. "Do I need to take you to the hospital at all?" I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral and judgement free, because the last thing I need is for him to freak out. He doesn't answer at first, but when I glance over at him, he shakes his head. "Okay then. Good. I'm not wearing a bra anyway."

"Ares!"

I grin, reach over and mess up his already tragic hair. While the Delgado Curls™ literally everyone else on our side of the family inherited - myself included - are more so waves on him, times like these they stick out as bad as with the rest of us. He shoves my hand away, but I catch the smile, grudging as it is.

"Seriously though, mijo, you alright?" I ask. He nods once.

"I'm fine, just fell and landed funny," he assures. Lies and blasphemy, but I don't call him out on it since he doesn't seem to actually be dying. He goes on, quietly this time. "Thanks for coming to get me."

I shrug. "I needed blackmail material." He groans, throwing his head back and I grin at him.

So maybe the night wasn't a complete fuck up.

Alan Deaton might be a bit too cryptic at times and his advice almost never makes any sense, but all in all, he's a pretty cool guy. I mean, he gave me a job when I first got here, and that alone says a lot about him, I think.

"Do you think I was too easy on him?" I ask, stroking Mr. Pickle's head to keep him calm as Dr. Deaton gives him some vaccine or another. The poor little Yorkie is kinda skittish."I mean, I texted Aaron and Alicia last night when I got home asking for advice and she told me I shoulda beat him upside the head, try and knock out the McCall stupid he got from his daddy." I pause. "I considered it. Aaron told me I shoulda made him walk. Also considered it."

Deaton clears his throat to hide his laugh as he straightens, setting the syringe away and patting Mr. Pickle. "You seem to have a pretty solid support system there with your siblings."

I nod, smiling. "Yeah, they're the best." It's not a lie. They took care of me better than Dad ever did, especially after he met Elisa. Shit, they're the only reason I made it to Beacon Hills. Where our little cousin and his friend do stupid shit ever other day. "They never did anything too stupid. Like, I dunno, go look for dead bodies in the middle of the night in the middle of the dark and scary woods." I pause. "And I already made it very obvious that Scott and Stiles owe me big. They're paying for my gas for the next month."

"I think you did fine," Deaton assures with a small smile. "You made sure he was okay, and then punished him as you saw fit." He picks up the dog and gestures to the front. "If you want, I can have him clean out the kennels without telling him why."

I hold the door open for him, bringing my hand up to my forehead to salute him as he walks by. "Bless you, sir. You're doing the Lord's work."

He chuckles. Mr. Pickle's owner waits out in the front, an older guy who absolutely beams when he sees his dog alive and well. Deaton hands said canine over and I slip into the chair in front of the computer to pull up the price.

"How much will it be, doc?"

"One billion dollars," I say in my best Dr. Evil voice as I hold out my hand for his card. The dude snorts his laughter, but hands it over anyway.

"That's a bit out of my pay range, miss."

"Then it's a good thing the doc gave you a discount. It's only, like, twenty bucks this time around." I swipe the card, print the receipt, and hand both back.

The man nods his thanks and says his farewells before walking out, taking the last patient for the next two hours with him. I turn the chair, because Deaton knows what's up and gets the twirly kind, and face the doc."Do you want me to wait 'til Scott gets here to ditch out or..."

"There's nothing here left to do. It wouldn't hurt if you wanted to go home twenty minutes early," he says lightly.

"Sweetness." I sign out of the computer and jump up. "You're the best."

"Have a good afternoon, Ares," Deaton says as I head for the front door.

"Ditto, doc," I call over my shoulder, letting the door fall shut behind me.

Because the universe hates me, my happiness is very short lived.

"All I wanna do is see you turn into a giant woman-"

I pull my phone out of my pocket as I get into the Turtle and catch a glimpse of the name before answering, switching it on to speaker phone and setting it in the cup holder.

"Scotty," I greet.

"I need a solid," he says in a rush. "I dropped my inhaler in the preserve last night."

"Sucks to suck, mijo," I say, turning on the car.

"Those things are like eighty bucks! I have to be at work in like ten minutes, I don't have time to look for it!"

I make a face as I pull out of the parking lot. "Are you being for real right now? Why didn't you go after practice?"

"Coach held us up. Ares, please!"

I can see the puppy eyes now. Boy's like a goddamned Precious Moments calendar.

"I hate you. I hate you. Where did you drop it?"

I should have stayed in Texas. Honestly, my life.

I'm woman enough to admit that I might have bitten off more than I can chew when agreeing to look for Scott's stupid inhaler an hour and a half after starting. I'm also woman enough to admit that the situation is finally getting to me.

"All these stupid trees look the same!" I shout, picking my way through the underbrush, looking for the areas with the least amount of leaves I can slip on. While comfortable and fashionable most of the time, Converse suck major ass while out gallivanting in the sketchy woods.

Pausing by a tree, I look around, trying to find the damn creek he mentioned. It's just past the creek, he said. You can't miss it, he said.

"This is bullshit!" I clasp my hands together and pop my fingers as I try to figure out what to do next. "Okay. Ares, breathe." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and quickly unlock it. There's a distinct lack of bars I need in the top corner. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

I shove my phone back into my pocket and run my hands through my hair, sweeping it back out of my face.

"Okay. You're okay," I remind myself, shaking my sleeves down over my hands and balling the ends up in my fists. "It's not like a person was murdered here last night, right?" I laugh to myself.

"What're you doing here?"

The sound that comes out of my mouth is not human. I whirl around, hands flying up to my mouth, and because Converse and wet leaves do not mix, I end up falling hard on my ass against the tree I'm standing next to.

There's a guy in a leather jacket standing not even five yards away and he's looking down at me like I personally ordered the cancellation of the next Beyonce tour.

"What's it to you?" I demand, slowly picking myself up, using the tree as a crutch. "Oh, god, my ass is gonna bruise," I mutter, wiping away the dirt and leaves off my bottom. The guy's face just gets more pinched up, like he's the one that fell on his ass after getting the shit scared out of him.

"This is private property," he declares. I look up at him sharply, my mood plummeting farther down than I thought possible, considering the fantastic afternoon I've been having.

"Well how the hell should I know that? There aren't any signs and all the fucking trees look the same!" I throw my arms up in frustration. "Like, seriously, how the hell do people even know where they're going here? It's by the creek, he says. You'll be alright, he says. HA!" I laugh wildly, gasping for air as what little remains of my composure slowly slips away. The guy's glare doesn't so much as waver as my laugh degenerates into quiet sobs.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands, his voice hard. I wipe my face with my sleeves and glare at him.

"What's wrong with me? I've been out here for like an hour looking for Scott's stupid, tiny inhaler by the stupid, tiny creek that apparently you can't miss." The guy frowns as I go on. "Well, I missed it and now I'm lost and I'm gonna get killed and torn apart and idiot teenagers are gonna come out at night looking for my body and I don't want idiot teenagers endangering themselves to find my body!"

The guy is quiet for a second. Then, "You done?"

I nod once, wiping my face one last time and taking a shuddering breath. "Sorry. Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to blow up." I look up at him, and he doesn't look nearly as annoyed as he did compared to when he first walked up. Makes him look less like a serial killer. "I, uh, I'm lost."

"I noticed," he says dryly.

"I'll give you ten bucks if you can show me the way to the parking lot," I offer hopefully.

He narrows his eyes a fraction and shit. He's just gonna leave me out here for the serial killers and mountain lions.

He lets out a sigh, as if it physically pains him to say his next words. "Come on then."

"Oh shit, really?" I throw my hands up in victory and rush after him before he can get to far. "You're great. I like you. We're friends now," I decide, catching up to him and falling in step next to him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at that last bit, but I'm too excited in knowing I'm not about to die in the middle of the woods to care. "I'm Ares, by the way. Ares Delgado."

"Ares." He glances down at me, brow arched skeptically.

"It's better than Aracely," I tell him. "Honestly, what were my parents thinking?" He grunts in acknowledgement. It's very neanderthal. "You gotta name?"

He hesitates. "Derek Hale."

"Derek Hale," I repeat, trying to figure out why that sounded familiar. Sonya would know - Oh shit, no, the shot put girl! "Dude, no way, back home, I knew a girl named Haley Derekson. Honest to god, that was her name." He looks down at me, the corners of his mouth slightly pulled down. "She threw shot put on my track team."

"You're not from here." It isn't a question. I shake my head, carefully stepping around a sketchy bush.

"That obvious?" I ask, sniffling again. "I've only just got here in June, but I've been here long enough to know this town has some strange obsession with stick soccer."

"Lacrosse?" And wow, I didn't realize someone could sound so done with the world.

"Yes, that." I glance up at him. "I'm assuming you're from here?"

He nods once but doesn't offer any backstory. I can live with that.

It quickly becomes obvious that this guy isn't exactly the greatest conversationalist. At all. For every question or comment I make, he only offers curt one worded answers. A few minutes of walking in silence, Derek stops at a clearly marked trail.

"Stay on the trail that way," he orders, pointing to the left. "Parking lot's five minutes out."

"Nice." I turn to face Derek, who looks like he wants nothing more than to just disappear into the woods from whence he came. "Seriously though, dude, thank you." I stick my hand out. He stares at it like it has leprosy for a second before taking it in his own, which is huge and warm, 9/10 would shake again. "Next time I get lost in the woods I'll be sure to hit you up, yeah?" I say with a grin, giving him a quick salute as I walk off into the direction he pointed out.

"Hey!" I pause, turn to see him pull something out of his pocket and only just catch it when he tosses it at me. "Tell the idiot teenagers to stay out of the woods." I turn the object over in my hand, frowning. When I look up, Derek's already gone.

I stuff Scott's inhaler in my pocket and hurry to the lot where the Turtle waits.

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Rough Translations because I'm lazy and a horrible person.

1. Mazapan - a peanut buttery candy that breaks if you so much as think about touching, but is worth it. De la rosa is the best
2. Chicle - gum
3. Qué están haciendo? - What are you doing?
4. Que no - I said no
5. Están locos? - Are you crazy?
6. Mijo - a term of endearment used for a younger male. Mija would be for a girl
7. Pendejo - Stupid/idiot/ etc.
8. Donde estás? - Where are you?
9. Que te dije? - What did I tell you?