a/n: this is the first story ive ever outlined in my life which is making it a bit easier to write but also stressful bc if i lose interest ill have a lot of stuff WASTED.
a few warnings- for the story in general prepare for some deviations from canon. new characters mean some things change, y'know.
for this chapter, it's not graphic but there is a broken arm. if you don't like hearing about it, skip from 'his hand darted out' to 'i cradled my arm'
i hope you enjoy! please leave a comment, it helps a lot :)
EDIT 10/5/17: rewritten!
Jan 29, 2011
Ashton could've left the Sherriff's station. In fact, she could have left a half an hour ago. Instead, she leaned against the tan, peeling wall near the door, and stared up at the stained tile ceiling. Five-hour old coffee, cigarette butts, and sweat mingled in the air and assaulted her nose, yet she still breathed through it. Her nose whistled, a sharp and consistent sound that she latched onto to steady herself.
All five-foot-ten-inches of her faded from attention, a skill she carefully cultivated. It helped that she changed into clean clothes, and washed up, before coming to the station. It was really just for her own comfort—the officers stopped taking notice a long time ago.
"Dude, I'm telling you, there was another attack last night."
She bristled, jaw snapping shut. A room full of officers, who were all there when she filed the report; why were they so incredulous? She lowered her face, angling it to look back into the building.
And… none of them were talking to each other. None of them were talking, period. Who did she hear, then?
"Okay, maybe there was. What does that have to do with us?"
"Seriously?"
"Maybe it was just an animal attack."
"Yeah. Right. Look, I hear there was a witness. I hear she was attacked too."
"Wouldn't she be dead?"
"Nah, she's alive. And if she's alive—"
"She was bitten?"
The front doors of the station opened, and Ashton jumped, spun around, and pressed her lips together in a thin line. Two guys walked in, too focused on their own conversation to notice her. But she noticed them, and she noticed that they were talking about her and that they seemed to have some idea of what happened.
"Why's that any of your business?" She narrowed her gaze at them.
They faltered, stopping a few feet away from her. Now that they're faces were turned to her, recognition stirred in her mind. Some guys from the lacrosse team. S something… Scott! Scott McCall, who'd been the talk of the school with his boost in lacrosse prowess. And his friend. Stiles.
The longer the silence stretch, the more her frustration grew. It began to buzz in her ear, drowning out the tedious sounds coming from further inside the building. She took in a sharp breath through her nose, wincing at the scent that hit like a sharp flick to the nose. Sweat and something like Axe or Old Spice, or some other overbearing brand. Sweat, Axe-spice, and ... wet dog? Wet dog but wrong. She rubbed at her nose, hoping it would get the smell to dissipate.
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, Adams apple bobbing with a swallow.
His heart beat jumped. She shouldn't have been able to hear that. Not important.
"The animal attack. The girl, the witness. Why's that your business?" She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her biceps.
Scott shifted in place, "You heard us talking about that?"
"Yes," Ashton hissed. "Obviously."
"Because you can't hear far outside the building from here," Stiles gestured towards the door as he moved closer, forcing Ashton back. "Were you the girl? The one that was attacked?"
"That's not any of your business." She should have gone home.
"You were!" Stiles turned back to Scott, shoulders jumping up. She assumed it was paired with a pointed look.
They were blocking the only exit, and she was considering the consequences of shoving past them and bolting when Scott cut in.
"Are you bleeding?"
She stilled, apprehension taking hold of the creases in her face, tightening them. She'd washed an hour earlier—her hair was still damp in its ponytail—using all the body washes and conditioners she owned. She could still smell the blood, but it was a psychological thing she wasn't going to acknowledge. Obviously. Even if it wasn't, there was no way he'd be able to smell it.
"No. I'm fine." She forced out through gritted teeth.
Scott shifted closer, "Are you sure? I-I can kind of smell—"
"How?" It burst out of her, high and reedy. "How on Earth would you be able to smell that?"
"How could you hear our conversation from in here?" Stiles countered, an unexpected solemnness in his demeanor.
Ashton felt her last straw get flung into an incinerator. "I don't know. It's not any of your business. Now, excuse me."
She pushed past them, shoved the double doors open, and stormed outside. They were talking to each other again, but she didn't what to know what they were saying or why they were saying it. In fact, she never wanted to run into them, or this weirdness, again.
The rest of the day passed without incident, since it was spent holed up in her bedroom. Her bedroom was safe: no more animal attacks, no parental confrontation about her whereabouts the night before, no police follow up. Just her and a warm bed. She dropped down onto her comforters and fell into a dead sleep.
Jan 30, 2011
There was someone in her room.
Her mind processed the scrape of her window as a pair of feet dropped onto her carpet. She was aware in a moment, though her limbs were slow to react. So, she laid still, trying to locate their exact position without looking. Her new, absurd healing was actually useful, picking up soft breathing.
"I know you're awake."
Fucking fantastic, a man broke into her window. His voice was surprisingly smooth, not deep enough to settle at her spine and not high enough to settle in her teeth.
Ashton swallowed, opening her eyes and sitting upright. Though the room was dark, she had no trouble making out the details of him. Dark hair that was styled into a quiff, a five o'clock shadow, and an oversize leather jacket jumped out at her. But it was the eyes that made her blood run cold. Set under heavy brows, they revealed no emotion and stared into her very being.
She gripped her sheets, "You're letting in a draft."
He glanced at the window before dragging his gaze back to her. He stepped forward.
"What do you remember about last night?"
His presence bore down on her, attempting to squeeze out what he wanted to know. She was tempted to give in, unsteadiness from the previous day weakening her willpower from the get-go. Spite flared up, unexpected, but too much had interfered in her life. She was done.
"I'm sure there's security footage. If you can break in here, you can break in there and find it." She spat.
The air went still, and then the room was a blur. She slammed into the far wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She sucked in a thin breath, clawing at his hand in a panic. He squeezed, forcing her to meet his eyes, and let go. She dropped to the ground.
Over her gasps, he spoke, "I'm going to ask again. What happened last night?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing before glaring up at him. The pain faded, making way for anger. It burned behind her eyes, and in the bags just below them, pressure building for a split moment. His head tipped to the side, his own eyes narrowing. She looked away.
"I was chasing a thief. An animal killed him, then chased me. Haven't you heard? That's been happening." She sniffed. "I passed out. That's it."
"You and I both know that wasn't an animal. And we both know you didn't get out of it unharmed."
"I don't know that." She stood, bracing a hand against the wall. "I was just peachy when I woke up."
He shook his head, "No, you healed. Because you changed."
"Changed?" She barked out a laugh like tearing tinfoil. "Changed into what? A vampire? Or a- a werewolf?"
Her laughter cut off when he was silent for a beat to long. His raised brow said, 'yes, you idiot, a werewolf' clearer than anything he could have said. Fear hit cold in her heart, and she laughed again.
"Fantastic. A crazy guy broke into my room," She shook her head. "Werewolves aren't real. I wasn't attacked by one. I sure as shit didn't turn into one."
The guy sighed and shook his head. "I don't have time to reason with you."
His hand darted out, grabbed her arm, and squeezed. It cracked, and he didn't even wince with exertion. A scream tore out of her at the pain, her knees went weak, and she dropped once more. She cradled her arm to her chest, gasping so hard she couldn't ask what he fuck he was thinking.
"Set it. Before it heals wrong." He sounded bored.
"You're crazy," She hissed. "I can't."
"You have to." He shook his head, and knelt.
She flinched away, tears finally breaking past her eyes to slip down her cheeks. She set her jaw, chin jutting out in a weak show of defiance.
"Give me your arm," He held his hand out.
She shook her head.
"Give me your arm." His eyes flashed an electric blue, shocking her into a moment of laxness. He grabbed her arm, held it between his palms, and pressed in. She bit her lip, breaking the skin, as a scream tore past her throat again. He scoffed and stood before walking away.
She curled up against the wall, sobbing. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be—
"Stop that, you're fine." He fixed her with a half-assed sneer. Like she wasn't worth the effort of a full one.
"You broke my arm, you dick, I'm not—"
Wait.
She looked down at her arm. Aside from the lingering tremors, she felt nothing but the ghost of pain. She was fine; again, she was fine. Her eyes flicked up to him in shock, and he raised a thick brow at her.
He answered the question she was too jumbled to ask, "You're fine because you have accelerated healing. Because you changed."
"Because I'm a werewolf?" Her voice didn't even come from her. Well it did, but it didn't feel like it and it didn't sound like it.
"Because you're a werewolf." He hauled her to her feet. "Because you were bit by an Alpha."
"An alpha? The animal? Is that why it had red eyes?"
"It's not an animal, but yes. An alpha's bite can make you into a werewolf. He made you and he made Scott."
"Scott? McCall?" She lifted her hands, pressing her fingers into her hair.
He nodded, brows scrunching together.
"I saw him earlier, h-he smelled blood on me. He shouldn't have been able to smell that." Ashton blinked a few times, then flicked her hands into the air. "He smells like dog!"
"Well. That's the scent. He smells like a wolf, like you, and like me." Derek shook his head.
He nudged her over back across the room, then had her sit on the bed. He then knelt across from her, a few feet back, and held her faze.
"We have enhanced senses. Smell and hearing mostly. Strength. Quick healing." His eyes flashed once more. "Your eyes will change. Have changed. We have fangs and claws. You need to learn to keep that under control."
"The Alpha didn't look like a person, will I—"
"No, you're a beta. You aren't as powerful as an alpha, especially since you aren't a part of his pack."
"I'm not?" Ashton frowned, rubbing at the seam of her mouth with trembling fingers. "Shouldn't I be? He bit me, he turned me. And he turned Scott—is Scott a part of his pack?"
Derek let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "No, Scott isn't. Neither of you will be until you kill with the Alpha on the full moon. Which is in a week. You either kill with him or he kills you. Join, or die."
Her mouth went dry. It didn't occur to her that she'd kill people. She didn't want to—she just wanted to be left alone.
"I don't want to kill anyone." Her voice was beginning to shake.
"Then help me find the Alpha. I need to stop him. I need you to find him." Derek leaned forward, beginning to shift from intense to earnest.
"Why me, how am I supposed to find him?"
"You're one of his betas, you have a connection. A connection I need to find him and kill him." Derek scooted closer.
She shook her head, dazed, and stood. She walked the perimeter of the from, tremors travelling past her fingers and up her arms. This was too much to process, too much to consider. Until now, she hadn't done much of anything. She didn't have these choices to make. She whirled around, running her fingers through her hair and she tugged on the tangles that formed in the curls.
"Why isn't Scott helping you?" She snapped.
Derek stood. "Scott ... has other priorities."
Heat hit her nose, like when she ate something spicy and it cleared her out. It smelled like anger felt, deep in her chest, but it wasn't coming from her. It had to be his. She wrinkled her nose and rubbed it.
"Scott's a good guy. If he's not helping you—"
"Do you even know Scott?" Derek cut her off. "Do you trust him that much? You know what the Alpha can do. He's already killed another person, a few hours ago. Scott knows that; he still won't act.
He bore down on her, stopping a breath away. "Are you going to let other people die? Or are you going to help me?"
Another person was dead?
Another person was dead.
Her body dropped away, going numb though she stayed standing. Her breath caught for a moment, pressure bearing down on her. But the tremors went away, and a frigid glare settled on her face.
"I know Scott's name. That's more than I know about you. I know that Scott's never tried to guilt trip me. So, if I stop this Alpha, I do it myself. On my terms."
The man scoffed, and she snarled in returned. It came out as a growl; a real growl.
"Get out of my room." The words dripped out of her.
He shook his head. "You're making a mistake."
"I don't think so." She shoved at his shoulder. "Get out, or I'm calling the police."
Maybe a threat like that was weak against a werewolf, because he didn't move for a long moment. Then he did, climbing out the window and dropping out of view.
Ashton dragged herself over to it, and slammed it shut.
