a/n (10/13/2017): wellll after a year of deliberation i've changed ash's faceclaim, and this is like the only chapter that has physical descriptions of her so i'm updating that now :)
Jan 31, 2011
Huh.
Ashton tilted her head to one side, then to the other, dampened curls dragging over her shoulders with each movement. It wasn't often – it practically never happened – that she spent her mornings examining her near-naked body in the mirror. But her underwear stopped fitting overnight. She was due for an examination.
And normally there was nothing to see except knobbed joints and long limbs and miles of brown skin going nowhere.
She pushed at her stomach, and there was a soft give of fat before her palm hit muscle. Abs. Holy shit.
She smiled and threw herself a wink before she scoffed at her reflection. That was embarrassing. Get dressed, god. She was kind of hot now, but she definitely didn't own anything that showed that off. Just a sea of sweaters and baggy jeans. She'd have to get new clothes … and new underwear.
"Before or after dealing with the Alpha?" She hummed to herself, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead. "Before. If I die, I'm dying cute."
Hey, dumbass. No one was cute when the Alpha killed them.
"I officially need some friends," She ripped something to wear out of her drawers. "Now that I'm having conversations with myself."
She dressed and grabbed her backpack before leaving her bedroom. The rest of the house was dark and still, void of its other inhabitants. Mom was probably off on another business trip. Dad was probably taking another shift at the hospital. Caron was—well. It was the same as always.
She trotted through the house, and upon reaching the living room, turned the TV on. The volume was barely more than a murmur, serving as background noise as she made breakfast. A smoothie instead of cereal.
There was a feeling building up inside of her, something that had been growing since she woke up after the surprise midnight visit. She didn't know what to make of it at first, and she still didn't, but that wasn't stopping it from growing. The urge to change, to do something for once in her life. To wear different clothes, have a different breakfast, to talk to people and make friends. To take on a werewolf.
Maybe it was the fact that she had the power to do something.
She could so she wanted to. She could so she needed to.
She pressed the smoothie option on the blender with more force than necessary. It churned up the fruit, juice, and yogurt, and her mind emptied for a blissful 46 seconds. Then she poured the drink into a sports bottle and went to check the TV.
"The Sheriff's office has yet to release any more information on the two animal attacks that occurred this weekend." The newscaster read off before it cut to the Sheriff.
"All I can say is we have two casualties and one witness who's already cooperated. My advice is to stay inside after dark and stay alert."
Ashton turned the TV off, watching as the dark screen swallowed up the face of the sheriff. The lines of his face were deep set with exhaustion, his voice worn down. She didn't envy him. Did he even know what was really going on? She doubted it. She doubted anyone knew. Except for that creep from her bedroom and Scott. Scott, who was also a werewolf. Scott, who didn't want to fight the Alpha.
Scott, who discussed her werewolf-ness with Stiles.
She needed to talk to them.
She shoved the sports bottle into a pouch of her backpack, scooping up her skateboard as she did so. It had been recovered the previous day from the bookstore; luckily, she dodged all of Benny's questions and dipped out before he could corner her. As she was lacking a car, that board was freedom personified. Not that she had much use for freedom before, but now she sure as hell did.
She locked the door behind her and started off for school. A place she usually dreaded going too, she was now anxious to arrive. She needed to talk to the boys, she needed more answers, and then she needed to figure out what she was going to do. She didn't trust the guy from her bedroom, but something needed to be done before more people got killed. And if she had to do that, well then, she just had to do that.
It was only when she reached the school that she realized she had no idea where to find the boys. She didn't know their friends, their numbers, where they liked to hang out before school—there was no reason to know before. She spent the few minutes it took to lock up her board to think up a plan of action. She didn't have much time to look. She had to be effective.
Hey, perfect opportunity to see if that guy was talking out of his ass. Track them. She'd smelled them before.
"Yeah, never tracked anyone before, though." She grumbled to herself, stomping off to the main doors.
Still, it was the best idea she'd come up with, so she took a deep breath in through her nose. A swarm of smells hit her all at once, and she stumbled to the side, and into a corner. Her chest heaved, and she blinked stars from her eyes.
Okay, try that again. But, uh. Think of what it was like. Remember.
She breathed in again, deep and slow, picking through scents. Finally, she picked up on something faint. Or at least she thought she did. Maybe that was wishful thinking, but in all honesty, she was too frantic to think on it further. She pushed off the wall and melted into the crowd of students.
She used to know how to move through a crowd, to not be stopped or bothered. Now, it seemed that she was holding herself differently. Drawing attention to herself. Part of her hated it—part of her loved it. She lifted her chin, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder.
She had a mission sure. But you couldn't blame a girl for being a bit proud.
The scent grew strong and her steps grew quicker until she rounded a corner and it hit her like a truck. She squeezed her eyes shut, covered her nose with her hand. The arm warded of the ensuing collision, and the scent's owner bounced off of her and stumbled back with a squawk. Her face scrunched up in displeasure and she wiped her eyes before opening them.
"Stiles," She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Right. Okay. You'll do—"
"Excuse me?" He huffed. "Just run into me and start judging, yeah, that's fine."
She glared at him before looking around. This section of the hallway had cleared out, perfect. She grabbed Stiles' sleeve and dragged him into the nearest empty room.
He squawked again and she shook him. "Shut up."
She let go and turned to shut the door. The familiar spicy scent hit her again, and she sighed. She glanced at him and met his glare steadily.
"What do you think you're doing?" He barked at her.
"I'm looking for Scott."
He raised a brow. "In here?"
"No," She rolled her eyes. "I'm talking to you in here, sweetheart."
"Sweetheart—why do I get the feeling that's not a compliment." His voice was dry, which was … funny. Annoying as this situation was, Stiles wasn't a pain to talk to so far.
"'cause it's not. Look, I understand what y'all were talking about before and I know about the werewolf stuff—"
His eyes bugged out and he slapped a hand over her mouth. She stiffened, head getting light as anger punched through it.
"Shh, shit, keep it down." Stiles shifted to look past her head. Presumably out the window of the door.
She pulled his hand away, giving his arm a warning squeeze. He yelped and pulled it back to his chest.
"Like anyone's going to hear—that's why we're in here." She shook her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I know that I'm … that I'm a werewolf. This guy drilled that one into my head—"
"A visitor? Who? When?" Stiles spluttered, eyes going wide.
"I don't know! It was at night, a few hours after we met at the station? I don't know who it was, but he was a dick."
"A dick, huh?" Stiles nodded, crooked index finger pressed to his lips. "Dark hair? Blue eyes? Maybe … a leather jacket?"
"Yeah, you know him?"
"That's Derek, he's uh—" Stiles shrugged.
"A werewolf. He explained it to me," She rubbed her arm. "I don't trust him. And I don't really know you guys, but Scott's at least a nice dude. I wanted to compare notes."
Stiles sucked on his bottom lip for a moment, shifting back. "Scott's, uh. He left."
"Left?" Ashton shrieked. "What do you mean 'he left', left town?"
"No!" Stiles patted the air like it would calm her. "No, he ditched. With his girlfriend, Allison. It's like, her birthday or something. It's kind of fucked up, she's got a twin, y'know, so what's he doing today—"
Ashton raised a hand and set it on his shoulder to stop the rambling. "Okay. Okay, enough of that. I need to talk to Scott."
"I know just as much, if not more. You can talk to me." Stiles lit up at the idea.
"You're not a werewolf, I can smell that much. This chat is one I need to have with Scott." She let go of him, turned, and grabbed the door handle when Stiles touched her arm.
"What are you even going to talk to him about?"
"The changes. The Alpha," She shrugged him off. "If I need you, I can find you."
