"Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I am picking up Allison in an hour," Scott groans, crossing his arms across his chest. His first date in high school history is tonight.
Last night, the Allison had pounded on the door of the vet's office, begging for someone to open up. She hadn't been able to stop in time, due to slick road conditions from the rain, so when a dog sprinted in front of her car, slamming on her breaks didn't stop her from hitting the stranded mutt. In a panic she drove to the first vet's office she could find, which happened to be the one Scott works at. I guess one thing led to another and he asked her out.
Scott deserves to go on a date with a beautiful girl like Allison. In any other typical situation, I would be thrilled to have him go off on his little date, but not in this one, where he might turn into a wolf. So yes, Stiles and I are serious. Werewolves being real once seemed improbable. Us telling Scott he may be transitioning into one might make us sound delusional, but we aren't kidding. A date can be postponed, but the rising of a full moon cannot be stopped.
Scott stands up, grabbing his backpack. Grumbling on about how we are wasting his time, he attempts to walk out of Stiles's room. Stiles jumps out of his chair, putting his hand on Scott's chest. "I saw you on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn't just amazing, all right? It was impossible."
"I worked hard at the first two practices, so what?" Scott argues, not backing down. My brother shakes his head in exasperation. He's trying so hard to tell his best friend something life-changing, and Scott won't listen.
In my head I replay Scott jumping in the air, switching hands his stick is in mid-jump. Another flash and I see him flipping over the three boys who are charging at him. Stiles's is right. It's highly unlikely one summer turns a bench warmer into a star athlete.
"No, it's more than that! The way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can't just suddenly do that overnight. And there's the vision and the heightened senses, and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."
Out of all the side effect of the bite, Scott not having to reach for his inhaler all day is the one that bothered me the most. You could say it was the final piece to the puzzle. Once it was put in place, I saw the whole picture, I believed Stiles's theory to be correct. A severe asthmatic does not go from having to use his inhaler multiple times a day, to not once touching it in a twenty-four-hour period.
"Okay," Scott shouts in Stiles's face, putting me on edge, "Dude, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."
No, this can't wait. We - he - has to take this seriously. There is a considerable chance nothing will happen, but it's not worth the little possibility he will spill blood. Words tumble urgently from my lips, "By tomorrow it will be too late. If Stiles is right - and I know it sounds crazy to say that - tonight, when the full moon is out, your bloodlust will be at its peak."
Scott turns to me, his brown eyes singling in on me. I hold my stare, not caring that he's throwing knives at me with his eyes. I understand why he is having a hard time accepting this. No one ever thinks terrible things will happen to them, not until they do, and by then it's too late. If there's a chance you can get ahead of the bad, you take that opportunity.
"Bloodlust?"
"Yeah, your urge to kill," Stiles tells him, picking up a book that is cracked wide open on his desk. Inside are tales of abnormal wolves, able to transition from man to wolf. And those stories tell of their thirst for blood, a yearning to kill. Not exactly a trait you want describing your best friend, but hey it could be worse.
"I am already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles," Scott growls, his nails clenching into his palms.
"Listen to this 'The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.'"
"Like the Hulk-" I cut in.
"Stella!" They both shout at the same time. I shrug my shoulders. Anger turns Bruce Banner into a green, mean, fighting machine. Anger rises in werewolves, and they become furry fighting machines. The similarities are there.
"You have to cancel that date. I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does." Stiles drops the book on his desk, walking towards Scott's backpack.
"What are you doing?" Scott questions, a frown playing on his lips. Stiles digs through our possible werewolf's backpack. Fishing out Scott's phone, Stiles starts typing away.
"I am canceling the date." Stiles goes to move towards me, but Scott doesn't give him a chance.
"No, give it to me!" Scott grabs Stiles by the arms shoving him up against the bedroom wall. The thud of my brother's body slamming into the wall next to me, causes me to jump. As Scott raises a fist, I throw myself between the two.
"Stop," I scream, worried for the first time in my life that Scott might hurt my twin brother, his best friend. "No offense, but this seems pretty Hulk like to me, losing control when you get angry! Look at yourself, look at what you are doing, Scott!"
"Ahhhh!" Scott lets Stiles go, slamming his arm into Stiles desk chair, sending it in my direction. I barely get out of the chair's way, jumping onto Stiles bed at the last second. Gripping onto the sheets, I scoot back, away from Scott. We have bickered before, even had a night or two were we stayed angry with each other, but never has he been violent with me. He couldn't have meant to push the chair in my direction; there's no way Scott would intentionally hurt me.
Completely shocked, Stiles pushes Scott out of his way, coming to make sure I am okay. As he asks if I am alright, I slowly nod without taking my eyes off Scott. Guilt brims in his orbs, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows it down.
"I'm sorry. I-I gotta go get ready for that party. I am so sorry." Scott gaze wanders the room, looking anywhere but at me. Quickly he puts space between us, slamming the door as he goes.
"You know what this means right?" Stiles's voice is soft. I almost don't hear him.
Letting myself fall back against Stile's mattress, I close my eyes, taking in everything. The werewolf thing is about eighty-twenty now. "We have to go to that party don't we?"
"Yeah, we do."
Loud music pulses through the night air, sending out a feeling of wanting to dance. Scattered across the front yard of the house I am standing in front of, kids my age are laughing and meeting up with friends before heading to the party. I don't remember whose house this is, only that it's one of the lacrosse player's. A lacrosse player who parents have a crapload of money seemingly. This house is more like a mansion.
Danny had tried to convince me to come to this party at the last practice. And just like the many times before that one, I told him I wasn't sure I would go. Danny has been attempting to coax me into coming to one of these things since the beginning of freshman year. Every time I turn him down he lectures me on how I need to get out there, have more fun. At no point has his little speeches worked on me. In turn, I hang out at home with Stiles, Isaac, or Scott. And if they weren't around I would go hang out at the station.
I know it sounds lame, but I just never thought the party scene looked like something I would enjoy. Drinking with a friend or two may be a good time, but letting loose with a bunch of strangers around, no. Standing here, watching people stumble over their own feet, I am envisaging why I allowed Stiles bring me here. Isaac and I were planning on hanging out tonight. I was going to make him watch the Iron Man movies with me. But instead, I had to force him into going out with me. At first, he put up quite the fight, but moments later he caved with a roll of his eyes.
"Let's split up," Stiles's suggest, starting to walk in the direction of the house's entrance.
"Alright, Isaac's with me," I latch onto Isaac's hand, leading him up the stairs, towards the front door. If we don't go in now, we aren't ever going in.
"Wait, Stella!" Stiles follows after us, but once we are in the house, I lose him. When he said split up, Stiles meant for me to ditch Isaac, but I would never. One day Stiles will come around, and except Isaac is a big part of my life.
I pull Isaac into the kitchen, running straight into Jackson Whittemore as I do. Clumsy me strikes again.
"Stella Stilinski at a party? This is something I never thought I would see." Jackson cocks his head to the right, sizing Isaac up. Isaac is holding onto my arm, almost protectively. He slides past me, so he is slightly in between Jackson and I. "How did this loser manage to get you out of the house?" Jackson's eyes now shift over to me. "Does your sheriff daddy know you are here?"
For a second I don't know what to say because I wasn't aware Jackson even knew my name. He ignores my existence at practice most days, unless he needs me to do something. And outside of school, there is zero contact. When I do respond, I find myself laughing. "Wouldn't make sense to tell my dad that I was coming here. You don't tell cops when you are about to do something illegal. Pretty sure everyone knows not to do that."
I give Jackson a small smile, and he looks at me in confusion. Did he expect me to tremble in his presence? Or be embarrassed? He is just another high school boy. I don't care if he has money and good looks. That's not what is important to me, and it surely doesn't make me believe he is superior to me. "Oh, and for the record, Isaac isn't a loser. He almost scored as many goals as you last season, he's better at defense than you are, and he's a better human being."
Isaac hurriedly pushes me past the now brooding jock, hissing into my ear, "You don't have any alcohol in you, and already you're trying to get us killed."
I roll my eyes playfully at Isaac. What is Jackson going to do? Nothing. Jackson's a talker, not a doer.
Danny walks up to me with a big smile. "Stella, you finally decided to come! Took you long enough." He brings me in for a side hug. "Isaac, happy to see you. Why don't you guys have drinks?"
"We just found our way to the kitchen. This place is packed, and we had a run in with Jackass over there." I nod my head in the direction of Jackson, Danny's best friend. Even though those two are close, Danny understands Jackson is a dick ninety-nine percent of the time. He just chooses to be a good friend by ignoring the noticeable flaw.
Danny laughs while shaking his head at me, and he reaches for a couple of red solo cups that are on the granite counter next to him. He gestures for us to follow him, and we make our way over to some mini bar in the backyard, where there are more liquor bottles than I can count, plus many kinds of mixers. Without asking, Danny makes us two drinks.
"I don't need one," Isaac speaks up, hovering behind me with a blank expression. "One of us will need to drive home."
The excuse is lame, and I know he isn't worried about driving home. Stiles promised he would stay sober. He may have made it sound like a joke, because he's aware that I don't drink often, but it doesn't matter. Stiles always keeps his word.
Taking the two drinks from Danny's hand, I look over at Isaac giving him a sneaky smirk. When one is forced into going to a Beacon Hills party, one might as well make the most of it. "Don't drink if you don't want to. I won't make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with, except coming here of course. However, Stiles did promise to stay sober tonight, and he doesn't go back on his promises."
Isaac glares at me as he snatches the drink Danny offered him out of my hand. "Don't make me regret this."
I cock my right eyebrow, bringing the cup to my lips. Isaac's words almost sounded like a challenge. Well, challenge accepted. Without warning, I place the cup to my lips and start to chug. The liquid burns the back of my throat, but that doesn't hinder me from gulping it all down.
"Stella!" "Whoa, go Stella!"
Finishing the drink, laugh at the boy's expressions. Danny looks at me, a little impressed that I finished the whole thing. I almost bend over from laughter when I peer over at Isaac who is staring at me incredulously. It seems like Isaac wants to throw me over his shoulder and take me home right now. Already he's regretting allowing me to sway him to join me here tonight.
I put my hand on his arm, shaking it lightly. "For one night lets forget about everything and just have fun."
Isaac looks down at me, his bright blue eyes burning into me. He tends to shy away from things, and there's nothing wrong with that if he's happy. But, I know he's not. Not once have I seen Isaac genuinely having fun. I would like to change that.
"You owe me, big time." Isaac starts downing his drink, and I walk over to the mini bar to make another.
Too many drinks later, I can't stop laughing. There has been a constant smile on Isaac's face all night. This is the first time I have ever seen him so carefree, and I love it. Everyone around me is laughing, smiling, or dancing. Later people may regret their actions or get sick, but right now all of us are having the times of our lives.
Every once in a while I spot Stiles checking up on me from another room, narrowing his eyes when he see's me dancing near guys. If it were up to Stiles, I would never date, or he would pick my boyfriend. Considering I don't want to date a Star Wars nerd, whose is as equally as strange as my brother, Stiles may always be running boys out of my life.
The girl Isaac has been dancing with breaks away to get and drink, and he makes his way to me. For the last couple songs, I have just been dancing with a group of people, no one in particular. I didn't want a guy's hands all over me, especially in the state I am in. When I almost trip over my own two feet, Isaac grabs hold of my waist. I grip his arms, giggling at my lack of coordination. It's moments such as this one where a smile stretches so far across my face it hurts. I hope to remember this night for a long time to come, so when if dark days roll in, I have a piece of light to hold onto.
Isaac pulling me closer to him, raising his voice so I can hear him over the music, "Thank you, Stella."
"For what?" I rest my chin on his chest, looking up at his boyish face. His pink lips are pulled into a smile. A smile that's highly contagious, might I add.
A strange feeling suddenly passes through me. Someone's watching me; I can feel their stare on my back. It's chipping away at my calm exterior, causing me to sober up a tad. Biting my bottom lip, I slightly pull away from Isaac, searching the crowded room for whoever it might be. When Isaac asks me what's wrong, I force a smile as I feed him a lie about the place feeling stuffy all of a sudden. Breaking out of his grasp, I turn to the window in the room. My eyes connect with two green ones, the eyes of a man I only met for the first time days ago. Derek Hale.
"Derek?" I mumble under my breath. Casually, I fib to Isaac for the second time tonight, telling him I am in need of fresh air. I hate lying to him, but I have no idea what's going on, and I get the feeling I should leave him out of it.
"Scott, wait," someone close to me yells. Spinning around, I see Allison chasing after Scott, who is pushing through the crowd like a madman. She's trying to grab ahold of him, but he's too fast. This can't be good.
All thoughts of Derek dissipate. Scott being in trouble is way more important. Without a second thought, I am following behind Allison. Shoving through the crowd of students isn't easy, but I am as determined as a drunk teenager can be. By the time I get outside Scott has started up his car and is driving away, leaving Allison behind. She's standing on the curb, her one arm latched onto her other forearm. Dang it, I had hoped nothing would happen tonight, prayed this first date would go well for Scott's sake. Neither Stiles or I wanted to be right.
"What got into him?" I question Allison, walking up to her. I try to focus on her, not wanting to pay attention to the fact running made me feel dizzy.
Allison turns to me, her big, doe eyes showing the hurt she feels. Scott had just left her, and judging from the way he ran out of here, I don't think he gave her an explanation. This might be her worst first date.
"Stella, right?" she asks, attempting to make herself smile.
"Yup, that's me." To avoid falling, I sit down on the nearby curb. "How did you know?"
"Scott told me about you. I may have asked him if you two were together," she grins awkwardly, taking a seat next to me.
I try to hide my laughter, but I can't. Scott and I together? That will never happen. "He might as well be my triplet. Sorry I didn't mean to laugh at you. I am a little out of it, I don't usually go to parties." I rest my head in my hands, trying to ignore the now spinning world around me.
"Yeah, I don't either. I only came because Scott asked me to." Her laughter this time is more comfortable, like she's talking to a good friend.
"Allison, Stella?"
I peek through my fingers to see who is addressing us, not that I need to. I recognize Derek's voice instantly. His beautiful green eyes are fixated on me, making me blush. How does he have this effect on me? Thankfully I am not looking directly up at him. A thought crosses my jumbled thoughts. Why had Derek Hale been lurking outside the window earlier? Was he spying on someone inside? I am trying to make sense of my questions, but whatever I have been drinking tonight has turned my ideas into mush.
"I am a friend of Scott's and Stella," he continues, this time speaking to only Allison, "Scott asked me to give you guys a ride home. He isn't feeling well."
Friends? Derek Hale and I friends? That isn't a word I would have used to describe us. Actually, there are no words to describe us, because there isn't an us. Derek Hale is just a guy who got mad at my friends and me, when we accidentally walked onto his property.
Derek intrigues me for unknown reasons. Despite his dark reputation, I have this urge to get know more about him. Uncovering my face, I glimpse up at him. Surprisingly he doesn't look away. I think, without words, he is trying to convince me to let him drive me home. And I am going to permit him to do just that.
"Uhh...okay." Allison seems apprehensive, but since I am not verbalizing anything right now, she doesn't reject the offer. There is only one problem with allowing him to give us a ride home.
"I can't just leave Isaac behind," I explain, reaching my hand out for help. For a second he doesn't move, but when he does pull me up, I practically fall right into his arms. Either I am lighter than I believe or he is incredibly strong.
"Get in the car, Stella. I will take care of it."
Allison waves her goodbyes before disappearing into her house. On the car ride here she had explained what happened before Scott took off. Out of nowhere, he freaked out, insisting he had to leave. To her, it was unusual and unexplainable, but I had a slight idea of what had been happening, not that I could share that information with her. My initial reaction was to text Stiles and let him know, but I quickly found out my phone was dead. Therefore, all I could do was listen to Allison's story and hope Scott doesn't do anything regrettable. She wrote down her number on some spare piece of paper she found in Derek's back seat, telling me to keep her updated if I hear anything about Scott.
Sliding into the passenger seat, a leather jacket is tossed my way. "Thanks, but I will be all right till we get to my house."
Derek pulls away right when my door closes, not bothering to wait till I am buckled. He also ignores my comment, staring forwards at the road, never looking over at me for a second. Moments ago, at the party he was friendly, and now he won't talk. Derek's on edge, but I have no earthly clue why.
"You know, I was having a lot of fun at that party," I kid, pulling my knees to my chest. Laying the jacket over me, I use it as a blanket.
"I saw that," he says through clenched teeth. I hear his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. The sounds of skin against rubber makes me sink into my seat a little. Why is he angry with me? I tuck my arms under his leather jacket, letting it lay on top of me like a blanket. The smell of him rolls off the jacket in waves, his pleasant scent covering me.
"Why did you give Allison and me a ride home?" The alcohol is making me blunter than usual. In everyday life, I am a curious person, but right now I feel like an inquisitive five-year-old.
"I didn't want Allison to go after Scott. He could hurt her." His reply is precise and to the point. It's evident he doesn't want me asking anything else, but at this moment, right now, I don't care what he wants.
"Okay, that makes sense to why you gave Allison a ride him. But, that still doesn't tell me why I am here with you right now."
"You needed to go home too."
"Right, that way I can put on warmer clothes and go searching for Scott. Good point." The statement is meant to be serious, not a way to mock him. But, he looks over at me like I offended him or something.
Derek swerves over to the side of the road, making me grab the nearest thing I can; that just so happens to be the console in between the two of our seats. I look over at him with my mouth agape as he the tires screech to a stop on the side of the road. Either he wants me to upchuck in his car, or he wants to kill us both.
"What the-"
Derek grabs hold of my arm, his grip tight. "Listen to me, you are not to go searching for Scott. Do you understand?" His words are harsh, but the softness in his eyes lesson the blow. They are pleading for me to listen, begging me to go home and stay there. His sudden mood change is startling. First, he practically ignores me, then he is asking me to do as he says? I am too much under the influence to be thinking this hard.
"Scott McCall is one of my best friends. There is no way I am going to..." Something Derek said previously comes to mind, and suddenly I have an epiphany. He knows. Derek knows about Scott. "Wait, you told me you didn't want Scott to hurt Allison. You know what's going on with him because you know he is capable of hurting her."
Derek's hand drops and he goes to put his hands back on the steering wheel, but I don't let him. I clutch his hand with the tightest grip I can. He's going to explain to me what is going on. "Derek, what's happening to Scott? I need to understand the truth. No matter what you say, no matter how bad it may be, I won't tell another living soul. Scott's is a brother to me. I would never put him at risk."
He turns towards the window, his jaw clenching. It's transparent he is hiding something, and he isn't to keen on the idea of sharing the information he has. Fine, he doesn't have to. I can get it all on my own, even if it means searching for Scott all night, putting myself in danger if need be. Scott McCall is family. I don't give up on family.
"If you won't tell me, I will do whatever it takes to figure this out without you."
"No, you won't," Derek growls. Before I can move my hand from his arm, Derek grabs on tight, the pads of his fingers pressing into my skin.
At this moment I nor see, feel, or hear anything but him. Nothing else matters, except for the words about to come from his lips. Sensing uneasiness, I lay my hand on top of his. I meant what I said, nothing he says will have me abandon Scott. If he's a mini Wolverine, Stiles and I will find a way for him to control it. If it's an infection, and the spreading is causing these strange symptoms, we will find the cure. Stilinski's don't throw in the towel quickly, it's not in our blood.
Derek glances down at my hand, his voice softer now, "I am not going to hurt you. I have control."
My jaw drops in shock as his eyes raised to mine. The green eyes I found myself growing accustomed to are now gone. Glowing blues orbs are staring back at me now. They light up, like how stars light up the night sky. "I am a werewolf Stella, and Scott is one too."
A/N: Revised :)
Cassie-011: Thanks! :)