Wolf Moon

McCall House

Scott spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush. He'd already strung the head of his lacrosse stickWith lacrosse tryouts the next day, he needed a lot of rest. And he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep since Jesse had disappeared two weeks earlier. He was on edge, and he couldn't help himself. He sighed to himself and stepped out of the bathroom, flipping off the lights as he passed through the doorway.

And then he heard a noise from outside. He rushed out into the hallway, snatched up the metal baseball bat his mother kept there, and headed for the door. Cautiously, he made his way out onto the porch, bat at the ready.

And then something fell. He screamed. It was like a body, dangling from the roof. It took him a minute to realize it was screaming too. And it was Stiles. "Stiles! What are you doing?" Scott shouted.

"You weren't answering your phon!" Stiles shouted back, dangling by his feet from the roof, "You have a bat! What do you have a bat for?"

"I thought you were some kind of predator!" Scott exclaimed.

Stiles shook his head – the motion was enough to dislodge him from the roof and he tumbled into the bush below. He emerged moments later with nothing but his dignity damaged. "Listen," he said, "I was listening to my dad's calls today and… some joggers found a body in the woods. They are even bringing in the state police!"

"A dead body?" Scott wondered.

Stiles just stared at him. "No. A body of water. Of course a dead body, you dumbass."

"Murdered?"

"They only know it's a girl, 20-something," Stiles explained, "We're going!"

"Why are you so interested?" Scott questioned.

"Oh, right," Stiles grinned, "They only found half the body. They're looking for the other half. You have to come with me!" Scott rolled his eyes. So much for a good night's sleep.


Sunnydale Nature Preserve

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Scott groaned as he and Stiles strode steadily, but quickly, through the trees. Stiles was in the lead with the flashlight – a light that was hardly necessary given how bright the moon was. "I need a lot of rest for lacrosse tomorrow…"

"Yeah," Stiles quipped, "Warming the bench is such a gruelling effort."

Scott scowled. Ordinarily, he'd have found Stiles entertaining, but right now he was tired, and his asthma was starting to make breathing hard. "I'm making first line this year."

Stiles smirked. "Well, at least you have a dream. Even if it's pathetically unrealistic."

"So, which half of the body is it?" Scott asked, desperate to change the subject now.

"I didn't actually think about that," Stiles replied, "I have no idea."

"What if whatever killed the body is still out here?" Scott pressed on.

"Didn't really think that far ahead," Stiles admitted.

"And if the cops looking for the other half of the body find us?"

Stiles just shrugged.

"Comforting to know you've planned this with your usual attention to detail," Scott replied. His sarcasm probably would have come across better if he hadn't been gasping for air.

"Wait a second," Scott gasped, leaning up against a tree. He fished around desperately in the pocket of his hoodie. His inhaler was in there somewhere. "And next time, maybe the ashmatic can have the flashlight?" As soon as his connected with the vital medicine, he started using it.

Stiles barely heard. He scrambled up the hill ahead of them – then froze. He wasn't stopping because of Scott's request. He saw something. Suddenly panicking, he switched off the flashlight and started to turn

"Who's there?" a voice shouted. A light shined through the woods and hit Stiles. Down the hill, Scott slid around the tree he was leaning on for cover.

"This delinquent is mine," another voice said. Scott recognized it immediately as Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles' father. They were in huge trouble now. "You listen to all of my phone calls?"

"Of course not!" Stiles argued, "Not the boring ones."

"Where is your usual partner in crime?"

"Xander? He's with Willow…" There was silence, during which Scott could only assume the Sheriff was scowling. Stiles continued. "Scott? Oh, you know him. He wanted to get a good night's sleep before lacrosse starts up. I'm alone."

"Get in the car, Stiles, you're going home." Sheriff Stilinski did not sound impressed or convinced.

"But I drove, Dad," Stiles protested, "I took the Jeep!"

"Then I will drop you off where you parked and I will follow you while you drive it home. Before then, we are going to chat about this thing called 'invasion of privacy'," the Sheriff was using his strict voice. Scott had been terrified of that tone of voice as a kid. Now it pretty much only scared Stiles.

Scott listened to them stomp away for a minute, leaves crunching under their feet, before heading back in the direction he was pretty sure they'd come from. He scampered through the trees – hoping he'd make it back to the Jeep in time to hide in it before Stiles and his father showed up. He was so focused on getting back that he stopped watching his feet – and fell to the ground. When he turned to stare down at what had tripped him, he let out a shrill yell of terror.

He'd found the body. Well, half of it.

He scrambled to his feet and set off at a run, tumbling down a hill and crashing to the leaf-strewn ground at the foot of it. He clambered back upright, breathing heavily. He fished in his pocket for his inhaler again. Nothing. It must have fallen out some time earlier – when he tripped on the body?

Scott twisted his head to look back up the hill – and that is when he saw it. A wolf. It was staring straight at him. Inhaler forgotten, Scott took off at a run again. He could hear the wolf racing after him – and gaining on him. Then suddenly, it leapt into the air and slammed its front paws into his back, knocking Scott to the ground. It's teeth sank into his side. Scott closed his eyes, whimpering in pain and sure he was going to die.

And then the wolf was gone. Scott's eyes flickered open and he stared around in the woods. There was no sign of it. Panicked, he ran in the direction he thought the road might be in.

Sure enough, he made it out to the road a few minutes later. Out of the woods, Scott finally felt safe enough to check the wound. It was bleeding but not profusely, and it hurt like hell, but it seemed like something he could probably bandage himself when he got home. And then go to the hospital after lacrosse. He started trodding back towards where Stiles had parked the Jeep.


Sunyale High: Outside

Unlike most mornings, Scott did not ride to school with Stiles today. Despite his wound – and late night, he was energized, excited! School wasn't all that far from his house, so he biked.

When he got there, Stiles was waiting for him at their usual spot. "Let's see it," he demanded.

Willow and Xander, also sitting on the bench there despite how much time they'd been spending with Buffy lately – both looked up. "See what?" Xander asked. Scott had only called Stiles, and apparently he hadn't gossiped about it. Much.

Obediently, Scott lifted his shirt, revealing the large bandage he'd had to apply to his side. It was good his mother was a nurse, he'd picked up enough medical know-how from her that he could patch up most anything. "It was dark," Scott said, "But I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

For a moment, no one said anything. "Pretty sure it wasn't," Stiles said finally.

"Hey, I saw it," Scott insisted.

Stiles nodded. "Oh, yeah, I know that. But there aren't wolves in California. I mean, there hasn't been a wolf in California for like sixty years."

Scott blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Stiles answered, "There are no wolves in California."

Xander looked at Willow, eyebrows raised. "Right," he said, "No wolves here."

"Well, if you guys don't believe me about the wolf," Scott replied with a mischievous smile, "You are definitely not going to believe me about the body."

"You found a body?" Xander questioned.

"So sure I don't want to be here for the rest of this," Willow groaned.

Stiles was nearly jumping in excitement. "You found it? Are you kidding me?"

"I wish I was," Scott shook his head, "I'm going to have nightmares for a month."

"I know that feeling," Willow sighed.

"That is awesome," Stiles exclaimed, "This is the best thing to happen to me since…" He paused, stammering for words. And then – as if on cue – he spotted Lydia. "Since the birth of Lydia Martin." He waved at her and shouted, "Hey Lydia! You look…"

Lydia, for her part, did not seem to hear or see Stiles. It was like he didn't exist at all.

"You look like you're going to ignore me," he finished lamely.

Xander smirked. "Are we surprised? She's a Cordette and we're…"

"You guys have just brought me down to your nerd level," Stiles interrupted, "I'm a nerd by association."

Scott stared at Stiles quizzically. He was pretty sure that could not be any more opposite from the truth.

Sunnydale High: English Classroom

The classroom was abuzz with rumors about the body. Dead bodies in Sunnydale weren't wildly uncommon, but half of a dead body was surely something to talk about. Scott was staying as quiet as possible on the subject, after his harrowing experience. None the less, no one was going to stop gossiping until the teacher put a stop it himself.

"I know your minds are whirring with macabre scenarios," he said, writing on the board, "But you have had plenty of time to discuss them already. As such, your minds can now whir about Metamorphosis which I am certain all of you have finished reading by now." He stared sternly about the classroom.

Suddenly, a startlingly loud cell phone ringer struck Scott's ear. He stared about the classroom in annoyance. Stiles was doodling in his notebook. Harmony was applying some sort of nail polish. Willow, of course, already had her hand in the air. Buffy was flipping through the pages of the book in question, probably hoping she could catch at least one thing that would make her seem like she'd read it. No one else could hear the ring.

And then it stopped – replaced by an enchanting female voice that Scott had never heard before. "Mom, you can't call me at school. And three calls in the first hour is really overdoing it," the voice said. "No, I'm not in class now. Principal Flutie is about to walk me to my first class." There was a pause and then… "Oh my God. I can't believe I forgot a pen – who forgets to bring a pen on their first day? Oh, Mom, I gotta go. Bye."

"So sorry about the wait," Principal Flutie's bubbly voice intoned, "Let's not get you any later for your very first class here!"

Scott could not for the life of him figure out where the voices were coming from. Was he losing his mind? Literally no one else in the classroom could hear them. Nor could they hear the pounding sound of footsteps drawing closer.

Suddenly, the door opened. Principal Flutie stepped in – followed by a beautiful, raven-haired girl who was intently watching the floor. "Sorry to interrupt!" Principal Flutie said. Neither his tone nor his cheerful grin implied that he was at all apologetic. "New student, class. This is Allison Argent. I know you'll make her feel just as welcome as you've made Buffy feel!"

Buffy, for her part, did not react at all – though Scott was sure she knew she wasn't popular with him or Stiles (or much of any one else) despite her suddenly and remarkably close association with Xander and Willow. He did not like people who lied to him, and he did not like people who put his friends in dangerous situations. And he certainly did not like people who knew more about the disappearance of one of his other best friends and didn't tell anyone anything.

But he did like people who looked like Allison.

"Hi," she said softly, giving a half-wave to the class. Her voice was definitely the enchanting one Scott had heard just minutes before. The teacher motioned towards the desks and informed her what book she'd need to read to catch up. She moved to the empty desk immediately behind Scott.

He couldn't help himself – he snatched a spare pen from out of his bag and held it out to her with a grin. She stared at it for a minute, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Then she took it, and smiled brightly. "Thanks."


Sunnydale High: Hallways

Allison stayed a minute after class to talk to the teacher before heading out into the wild halls of her new high school. A blonde girl was waiting right outside the door. "Hi," she said with a genuine smile, "I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Buffy. I'm the other new girl."

"Allison," she answered, reaching out and shaking Buffy's hand.

"I have to run, but I just thought it'd be nice to know you're not the only one who doesn't know anyone yet."

"Thanks," Allison replied. In a flash, Buffy was gone. She seemed a little weird, but it was nice of her all the same.

She was amazed at how quickly she was able to find her locker – and how easily she was able to open it. Of all the numerous schools she'd been to, with all of the times her family had moved, this one was off to a strangely good start. Two potential friends in under an hour.

"Where is that killer jacket from?" a voice demanded, "I just love it."

"Oh, this?" Allison turned. A strawberry blonde girl was standing in front of her, grinning ear to ear. "My mom used to be a buyer for some stores in San Francisco."

"We are going to be best friends, I can tell already. I'm Lydia."

Allison introduced herself in turn – and then a stunningly handsome boy appeared and draped his arm over Lydia.

"Hi Jackson," Lydia said, landing a smooch on the guy who was obviously her boyfriend.

"Did I hear you say you're from San Francisco?" Jackson asked.

Allison shook her head. "No, we just… we lived there for more than a year, which is really unusual for my family."

Jackson nodded, clearly not actually very interested. "Well, hopefully you'll stay in Sunnydale for a while. Or whatever."

"So," Lydia jumped in, "This weekend we're having a party at my house. You're coming, absolutely. Friday night."

"I can't," Allison sighed, "It's family night. Thanks for asking, I'll absolutely catch the next one."

Jackson shook his head. This was clearly not acceptable. "Everyone who's anyone at this school is coming. After the scrimmage."

"Oh, you mean like football?" Allison asked.

Jackson chuckled. "No, no. Football here is a joke. The only winning sport here is lacrosse. State championship the past three years."

"Coincidentally the same time a certain captain of the team started playing," Lydia added with a proud look in her eyes.

"We've got practice after school – you're more than welcome to come watch," Jackson invited.


Scott couldn't help but smile, even watching – and listening to – Allison with some of his least favorite people in the school. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"How is she here all of five minutes," Willow was complaining, "And she's in with Lydia?"

"She's hot," Stiles said with a confident nod, "Hot people herd together."

Scott was not paying any attention whatsoever. Allison had just spotted him and smiled at him. At that moment, it didn't matter who she was hanging out with.


Sunnydale High: Lacrosse Field

"You can't play!" Stiles complained, "Who am I going to talk to on the bench? You would do that to me? Your very best friend?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "I can't sit out any more. My whole life, I just sit on the side lines," he answered grumpily, "I need to play. I'm determined. I'm making first line."

"Probably the first severe asthmatic ever to make first line," Stiles joked. His attention shifted almost immediately, however – Allison and Lydia were climbing up the bleachers on the other side of the field. Lydia's hair was practically glowing red in the sunlight, and the light breeze blew it back like she was some kind of model.

Scott noticed too – he was obviously eyeing Allison about as intently as Stiles was eyeing Lydia. Allison's smile indicated she had noticed this too, and she didn't mind.

"McCall!" Coach Finstock shouted, "Get in goal!"

Scott spun around to stare at the coach. "I've never played it!"

"I know," the coach explained, "I want to build some confidence. It's the first day back. Try not to take any in the face."


Allison watched as the boy who had given her that pen made his way into the goal. Hesitantly, she leaned over to Lydia. "What's his deal?"

Lydia shrugged. "Oh, I've seen him around. He's…" She paused. "Okay, I'm not really sure who he is. Scott somebody. Why?"

"Oh," Allison stammered, "He's… uh… he's in my English class." She noticed he was staring in their direction from the goal – and though his helmet covered his face, she got the sense he knew that they were talking about him.

And then the coach blew the whistle, and Scott grabbed his helmet like his head was about to explode.


The whistle was the loudest thing Scott had ever heard. It bore into his brain for what seemed like eternity, even though he was sure the coach had only blown a quick blast.

By the time he'd gathered his wits about him enough to even look up, the first player – Isaac Lahey, by the look of him – had thrown the first ball towards the goal. It slammed into the helmet and knocked Scott backwards into the goal. The team cheered.

But Scott was determined. He clambered to his feet and got his lacrosse stick ready. The next player came forward – this one had to Vernon Boyd. He was a loner, but he was a good player. Scott swallowed his nerves and watched the ball.

It coursed through the air as if in slow motion. Scott caught it with his lacrosse stick easily. He could hear a surprised but encouraging shout from Stiles.

Danny hurled the next ball – and Scott caught that one just as easily. Then the next. And the next.

"Seems like he's really good," Scott heard Allison whisper to Lydia.

"Apparently," Lydia returned, her surprise evident in her tone.

And then Jackson stepped forward. Well, more accurately, Jackson pushed his way to the front of his teammates. It was no secret that Jackson did not like Scott or Stiles, and did not want them on the team at all. Scott showing actual skill in the game would be completely unacceptable to him. Jackson charged, leapt into the air, and hurled the ball from his own lacrosse stick.

But Scott caught it just as easily as the others. Whatever was going on, Scott wasn't sure. But he definitely liked it.

Lydia shrieked excitedly from the stands, Allison clapping from beside her. Stiles, meanwhile, shouted loudly and proudly, "That's my best friend! That guy!"


Sunnydale Nature Preserve

Stiles stared at the back of Scott's head skeptically.

"I can hear things I shouldn't be able to hear," Scott went on, "And lacrosse practice? I don't know where that came from. And I never once ran out of breath! And, oh, right! I can smell things I would never have been able to smell before."

"Oh, right?" Stiles quipped, "Like what?"

"You have a piece of mint mojito gum in your pocket," Scott observed.

"I do no—" Stiles started to protest, sliding his hand into his pocket. He stopped himself, though, as he extracted a single piece of gum. Chewed, of course, and wadded up inside the wrapper. "That's gross."

"I think it's an infection," Scott continued, "Like, it's pumping my body full of adrenaline and then I'm going to go into shock."

Stiles scratched his head. "Maybe it is. I think I know what it is… you ever heard of lycanthropy?" With the strange things that happened in this town – most notably the violence at the Bronze and Jesse's disappearance – Stiles figured he'd test the water on this. If Scott believed him, then that was something they could look into. If Scott didn't… well, it was just a joke, right?

"What's that?" Scott asked.

Stiles made a howling noise, or his best attempt at one, and grinned mischievously. Scott just shoved him lightly.

"I'm being serious," Scott groaned.

"Alright, alright," Stiles relented, "I was just kidding. Unless I wasn't, and I guess we'll find that out at the full moon on Friday."

"The body was around here somewhere, I swear," Scott announced, looking at the ground and not-so-subtly changing the subject, "But I don't see my inhaler…"

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles guessed, "Or the cops."

"I hope they left my inhaler, those are like eighty bucks!"

"Dude!" Stiles caught sight of a man clad all in the black, a leather jacket completing his badass look. He was just staring at the two of them.

Finally, he spoke. "You two are trespassing on private property."

"Sorry," Scott stammered, "I'm just looking for… something. We'll go."

"Good." Without another word, he tossed something through the air, which Scott caught. He held it up to Stiles – his inhaler. Then, the stranger stalked away.

It took Stiles a minute to put it together but when he did, he gasped. "Do you know who that was?"

"No?" Scott muttered, his focus still on his inhaler.

"I think that was Derek Hale," Stiles gasped, "I wonder what he's doing back in town. I mean… you remember the fire right? Killed his whole family, practically."

Scott nodded grimly. "I remember that. He's only a few years older than us – didn't he go to New York or some place? Why is he back?"

Stiles shrugged and glanced down at his watch. "You know, we'll figure that mystery out later."

"Right, I have to get to work soon," Scott realized.


Sunnydale Veterinary Office

Doctor Deaton had left early that night, leaving Scott to close up the shop and feed the animals staying overnight. Scott immediately checked his bandage – it had bled through some time during the day. Time to change the dressing. He lifted the taped edge of the bandage and tore up, gritting his teeth. The skin underneath was perfectly mended – no scarring or anything. He squinted in confusion, staring down where the injury had been. He stared at it in the mirror in the bathroom. No sign of it. Confused, he ran his fingers along the skin. It was completely unmarred.

He shrugged. That meant, at least, he could get his work done without worrying about it. But as soon as he brought food into the room where the cats were kept overnight, they suddenly began freaking out. Hissing, spitting, clawing at the cages or cowering up against the back wall. Obviously he wasn't going to feed them now – not until he could figure out what had gotten into them. In the mean time, he did have other things he could be doing.

But Scott didn't have time to dwell on it – someone started pounding on the door. It had started raining before Doctor Deaton had even left – and by now it was raining so hard anyone who was coming by the vet definitely had a very good reason.


Stilinski House

Stiles was barely in the house when the phone rang. He certainly hadn't dried off from the torrential downpour outside. He ran to answer it, but his dad was too fast answering upstairs. That didn't mean Stiles couldn't listen in.

"Sheriff Stilinski, we have the analysis back on the corpse," a voice was saying, "We found hairs. Animal hairs."

"Right," Sheriff nodded, "I know about the hairs. What did they come from?"

"A wolf," the voice replied, "But… this is California."

Stiles nearly gasped, but managed to restrain himself so he wouldn't get busted listening in again.

The Sheriff responded stiffly, "We'll put out an alert for anyone who sees a… uh… a wolf to call us. The Mayor will want to know."

As soon as the brief conversation was over, Stiles hung up the phone.


Sunnydale Veterinary Office

Scott was thrilled – although caught completely off guard – to find Allison at the door of the clinic. His excitement quickly melted away when he realized she was in a blind panic. It was hard to tell if she was crying, given the cascade of rain outside. He opened the door to the clinic and let her inside.

"I was just changing the song on my iPod," her words tripped over each other in her panic, "And this dog… it just came out of nowhere."

"Where did it happen? Can you take me to it?" Scott was all business now – even though he desperately wanted to comfort her. Dog first, girl later.

"No, I mean… yes, I know where I hit it, but the dog," Allison inhaled deeply – she was clearly running out of breath, "The dog is in my car." Allison drove a small, silver SUV that was the only thing in the parking lot other than Scott's bike. The two of them headed out into the pouring rain and she opened the back of the vehicle.

Immediately, the dog barked and howled. Allison stepped back. "Now it won't let me near it," she said, her brow knitting together with worry.

Scott smiled reassuringly. "She's just scared."

"That makes two of us," Allison forced a smile back.

Scott leaned in to the dog. He felt something come over him – like suddenly he could understand the wounded dog. And the dog visible relaxed. She allowed Scott to tenderly pick her up and bring her inside.

Once Scott had gotten the dog onto the examining table, he set to work quickly. As far as he could tell, she'd only broken a leg. He'd seen Doctor Deaton set splints a thousand times, he was sure he could it himself.

Allison, on the other hand, was shivering in her soaking wet clothing.

"I have a spare shirt in my bag," Scott offered, pointing to his backpack on the counter behind him.

"I don't want to be any more trouble," Allison shook her head.

Scott smirked. "It's no trouble, I promise." He stepped over to the bag, unzipped it, and took a sweatshirt out. With a genuine smile, he handed it to her. "Here."

Allison gratefully accepted the shirt and stepped into the next room to change while Scott set the leg, glancing up occasionally to check on Allison. Through the window he could just make out her back… and the fact she wasn't wearing a bra.

The dog whimpered, bringing his attention back to his work. "I didn't see anything," he muttered to the wounded canine.

Allison stepped back into the room just as he was finishing with the cast. "Thanks for doing this," she said, "I feel so dumb."

"How come?" Scott asked.

Allison shrugged. "I freaked out like a total girl."

"You are a girl," Scott observed.

"I'm not that kind of girl," Allison countered, "I'm not a girly girl."

Scott smiled at her. "What kind of girl are you?"

"Tougher than that," Allison said vaguely, "At least, usually."

"I'd be freaked out too. I'd probably have cried," Scott admitted, "Not manly crying either. Like, the girliest crying you've ever seen. Truly pathetic."

"Oh, yeah, right," Allison giggled.

"Looks like she's going to live. I think she'll let her pet you now," Scott said, running his hand along the dog's fur, "She's much calmer."

Tentatively, Allison reached out to pet the dog.

"So," Scott said hesitantly, "Is it really family night on Friday or… maybe, would you want to go to that party with me?"

"Family night was a lie," Allison said, her face breaking into a full on smile.

Scott raised his eyebrows. "So that's a yes?"

"Definitely yes."

Scott didn't stop smiling for the rest of the night, even when he went home and crawled into bed. He didn't stop smiling at all until he woke up in the woods.


Sunnydale Nature Preserve

Scott spat a leaf out of his mouth and stared around him. He was still wearing what he'd slept in – a ratty old pair of shorts he'd never willingly leave the house in. But he had definitely left the house. He was on a rock that was positioned precariously over the river that flowed through these woods.

Unnerved, Scott started heading away from the river. Fortunately he had a good sense of direction, so he was pretty sure he could get home without any problems. Whether he'd be on time for school – that remained to be seen. But the sun was still pretty low; it was definitely early.

That wasn't much comfort for long though – a growl behind him alerted Scott he wasn't alone. He twisted his head and looked. That was definitely the wolf that he'd seen the other night.

It started running – and so did Scott. He scrambled through the woods, listening to the heavy pounding of paws on dead leaves behind him. The thing was massive, and it was fast. But somehow, Scott was managing to stay ahead of it. And he was breathing fine.

A picket fence appeared ahead of hm. He just had to get over it… he vaulted over it as soon as he reached it. He only saw the pool in time to take a deep breath before going under.

When he emerged, he saw a man staring at him from his patio. Scott stared at him and managed to stammer, "Good morning, sir."


Sunnydale High: Boys Locker Room

The school day had passed mostly uneventfully – except for Scott telling all his friends about his upcoming date with Allison at lunch.

He changed clothes, got his gear out of his locker, and turned around – ready to be the first one on the field too. Instead, he found himself face to face with Jackson – who looked furious.

"Where are you getting your juice?" Jackson hissed.

Scott blinked at him. "Uh… what?"

"Where are you getting your juice?" Jackson repeated.

Scott raised his eyebrows. "My mom does all the grocery shopping…"

Jackson was having none of this. He advanced predatorily, forcing Scott up against his locker. "There is no way you – of all people you – got that good at lacrosse without some kind of chemical boost."

"Steroids?" Scott gasped, "Wait, are you on steroids?"

Jackson slammed his fist into the locker next to Scott's head. "I don't know what's going on with you—"

"Me either!" Scott exclaimed, "I can hear things, do things that I should never be able to do or hear… and apparently, now I sleepwalk into the woods! I swear I've gotta be losing my mind!" It actually felt good to get that all off his chest – even if it was Jackson.

Jackson didn't seem to appreciate the bonding moment they could have shared. "You're trying to be funny but I'm not laughing," Jackson said in a low, warning tone. "I'm going to find out what's going on with you. I promise." He stalked away, defeated, as the rest of the team entered the locker room.

Stiles, appearing from the mass of lacrosse players, grabbed Scott's arm and dragged him over to one side of the room – away from the rest of the team. "Scott, I haven't had a chance to talk to you alone all day and I can't wait any more!" he bubbled, "The results came back on some animal hairs my dad found on the body, right? Guess what they were?"

"I have to get on the field, Stiles," Scott muttered, pulling away. He was sure he didn't want to think about that night any more. Especially now that the wolf seemed to be stalking him.

"Wolf hairs, Scott," Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, as if daring Scott to ignore the news. He was clearly surprised when Scott did just that and strode out towards the lacrosse field.


Sunnydale Lacrosse Field

Stiles was more than a little put off by Scott today. The only real conversation they'd had all day was at lunch – when Xander, Willow, and Buffy had all been with them. The new girl, Allison had walked by and said hi to Scott – which triggered an entire discussion about the date he was taking her on. If you considered Lydia's lacrosse party a date. Other than that, Scott seemed to be avoiding him entirely, and most especially was avoiding talking about their adventures in the woods.

Even now – with all the lacrosse team standing around Coach Finstock, Scott was standing on the other side of the coach.

Coach, meanwhile, was giving one of his rousing speeches. "Alright, so we're scrimmaging. And I'm gonna be judging. If you don't make the cut, you're probably going to be sitting on the bench the whole season. If you do make the cut… you play! Your parents are proud! Your girlfriend loves you. Every thing else is gravy and life is great. So go." He blew into his whistle and the scrimmage started.

It was probably thirty five seconds before Coach pulled Stiles off the field and sat him on the bench. That gave Stiles a clear view of Scott on the field – dodging the other players with a kind of grace and agility that Stiles had never seen in his best friend in their entire lives.

And then Scott caught the ball. He ran with it – and then Jackson slammed into him. He knocked Scott to the ground and – in the seconds it took for Scott to get back up, just stood over him, smug as a dog with a bone.

When play continued, Scott got the ball straight away – and then he dodged his way through all of the players, charging for the goal. When Jackson tried to get in his way, Scott leapt into the air and literally flipped over his opponent before easily tossing the ball through Danny's legs to score the goal.

The students on the bleachers erupted into cheers. Even some of the lacrosse players erupted into cheers. Stiles was less thrilled. Something incredibly weird was happening with his friend. And he was going to find out what, before this friend disappeared as well.

Jackson, likewise, looked less than thrilled. And Coach Finstock… looked like Finstock always did. "McCall! Get over here!" he shouted, "What in God's name was that?" He continued to holler until Scott stood in front of him. "This isn't gymnastics, this is lacrosse! What did you think you were doing out there?"

"I was just trying to make the shot," Scott said lamely.

"Well you made it," Coach Finstock said in a tone so low that Stiles could barely hear it, "And you know what else you made? First line! You're playing the season, buddy!"


Sunnydale High: Library

Stiles couldn't remember the last time he was at the school after the sun had set. He wasn't sure he'd be able to find who he was looking for this late, but he truly had no idea of where else to look. He inhaled deeply and, steeling himself, threw the doors open and strode into the library. He was caught a little off guard to find not only the creepy librarian but Buffy – who was holding a sword.

"I thought this was the place to go for weirdness," Stiles said coolly, "Good to see I was right."

Buffy dropped the sword onto the table and smiled innocently. "It's… it's a fake sword."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, okay, sure thing. Listen, do you know of any way someone might be cured of asthma overnight?"

The librarian glanced hesitantly at Buffy, who stared at him.

Stiles pressed onwards. "Look, I know that you know what happened to Jesse, how he just… vanished. Now something is happening to Scott. I mean, something in the woods bit him and now he's actually good at sports and his asthma is miraculously cured. One of you is going to tell me something."

"Bit?" Buffy stammered.

"Yeah," Stiles repeated, "Bit. Some kind of animal. He says it was a wolf but… there's no wolves in California…" He trailed off. Well, there hadn't been. "Except there might have been one the other night."

Buffy sighed. "Giles, I know you think too many people at this school know what's going on, but if something bit Scott and now he's changing…"

"Yes, I agree, Buffy," Giles admitted, "Stiles, I'm going to give you some books and Buffy and I are going to explain some things to you which may be difficult to accept."


Hale House

Buffy strode up the house confidently. She and Laura had just had coffee after school two days ago – and surely if there was another werewolf in town, she or Derek would know something about it.

Derek appeared on the porch just before Buffy reached it. "What do you want?" he growled.

Buffy was a little taken aback. "I want to see Laura, of course. And you. There might be—"

"Like you don't know?" Derek spat.

"Don't know what?" Buffy asked.

Derek grimaced. "Laura is dead. Some time after she left to have coffee with you she was killed in those woods." He pointed to the woods that surrounded the house. The Sunnydale Nature Preserve. The Hale house seemed to be on the side of the woods opposite most of the town, but fairly near the town's cemetery. Of course Laura would have been in those woods on the way home from coffee.

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What are you saying, exactly? You think that killed her?"

Derek smirked. "Aren't you the Slayer? Isn't killing monsters what you do?"

Buffy shook her head. "Laura was my friend, not a monster."

Derek clearly didn't want to continue the conversation any further. He charged at Buffy – wolfing out as he did. He tackled her to the ground, but she kicked up at his abdomen and sent him flying back towards the house. He leapt to his feet, but Buffy was faster – and stronger. She practically flew into his chest, knocking him back to the ground, and pinned him.

"Stop it," she demanded, "Listen to me. I think there's another werewolf. It bit a friend of mine, Scott. And if I had to guess, it killed Laura."

"Another wolf?" Derek gasped, more trying to regain his breath than out of surprise, "That explains why I'm not…" He trailed off. "I'll find it. Stay out of pack business, Slayer." He shoved her off of him and strode back into the house.


Stilinski House

Stiles had spent hours since he'd left the library. He truly could not say what had surprised him most about his discussion with Buffy and Giles – that supernatural things were real was absolutely not it, but it was pretty shocking to think of Buffy as a mystical superhero. On the other hand, it was pretty shocking to learn that Jesse had been a vampire the last time Stiles had seen him. And on yet another hand, it was pretty shocking to think that Scott might be turning into a werewolf. Though he'd already sort of guessed at that one in his head, so that surely wasn't what took the cake here.

All of the research he'd seen over the night – both in the books and what he could find on the Internet – seemed to indicate that lycanthropy was definitely the answer. Now he just needed to tell Scott…

A knock on the door to his bedroom interrupted his thoughts. Nervous and jittery, partly from being up all night and partly from the amount of Adderall he'd taken; Stiles approached the door. "Who's there?"

"Me, you idiot," Scott's voice answered, "We going to school today?"

"Get in here!" Stiles threw open the door and pulled Scott bodily into the bedroom before slamming the door shut behind them. "I've been up all night researching. I have to tell you something."

"How much Adderall have you had?" Scott teased.

Stiles shrugged. "A lot. Doesn't matter."

"So, is this about the body? Do they know who did it? Because really, I'd rather not get any more—"

But Stiles cut him off. "No. No. Remember that joke I made? Werewolf joke? Not a joke. I was doing this reading – and I went to talk to the creepy librarian – and I was reading and…"

"Seriously?" Scott did not look impressed. "I have to pick up Allison in an hour, and you are wasting my time with this?"

"Did you see yourself on the field today?"

"I made a good shot," Scott countered.

Stiles shook his head. "No, Scott, you made an incredible shot. And you made a flip in the air. And the speed, the reflexes, your hearing, your sense of smell? And have you noticed that you don't use your inhaler any more because I have!"

"I can't think about this right now," Scott snapped, "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"No, we can't!" Stiles protested, "There's a full moon tonight!"

"What are you trying to do?" Scott shouted, "I'm first line! An amazing girl who is completely out of my league wants to go out with me! Everything is somehow perfect, why are you trying to ruin it?"

"I'm trying to help!" Stiles yelled back. There was a second of silence before Stiles continued, much more calmly. "You're cursed, Scott. It's not just that the moon will make you physically change, it's going to give you this bloodlust and aggression."

"Bloodlust?" Scott could not have sounded more sceptical if he tried.

"Your urge to kill," Stiles explained.

Scott scowled. "I'm already feeling an urge to kill somebody in particular."

"There's more," Stiles added, reaching for a book. Flipping to a page that had been bookmarked with a blue sticky note, Stiles read aloud. "'The Change can be caused by anger or anything that raises the pulse in the subject.' And can you think of anyone who raises your pulse like Allison? You are not going on this date! Call her right now!"

When Scott didn't move, Stiles darted for his friend's backpack – lying abandoned on his bed. "What are you doing?" Scott groaned.

"I'm cancelling your date."

"No," Scott argued, "Give me the phone." Stiles didn't stop – not until Scott grabbed him, shouting, "Give it to me." In an instant, he had Stiles pressed against the wall with one hand, his other curled into a fist.

They stayed like that for at least a minute before Scott dropped Stiles and rounded on his desk chair. The chair flipped across the floor, landing on its side. Both did their best to avoid eye contact until finally, Scott breathed, "I'm sorry." Another awkward silence followed and Scott stammered, "I… I have to go get ready. I'm sorry."

He snatched his bag off the bed and headed quickly out the door. Stiles sighed heavily and picked up his desk chair, setting it back in front of his desk. Looking at it, he cocked his head to the side. Scott had left claw marks in it.


McCall House

Scott had showered as quickly as he could once he got home. Wrapped in his towel, he rushed into his bedroom to change clothes.

His mom stopped him. "Scott, is this a party or a date?" She was always straight to the point.

He shrugged. "I guess both?"

"What's her name?" she grinned.

"Allison," Scott answered, feeling his cheeks burn red.

His mom's nose scrunched up, the way it did every time she thought her son was being adorable. She'd been making that face for as long as he could remember. She jingled the car keys in her hand and held them out to Scott.

"Seriously?" He was elated. "Thank you!"

"Do we need to have a talk?"

Scott shook his head. "I'm not having a safe sex talk with you."

"I meant about keeping the tank full when you bring it back," his mom groaned, "Don't make me regret giving you those keys. But while we're on the subject, I am not – absolutely not – ending up on a reality TV show with a pregnant sixteen year old!"


Martin House

Lydia's house was huge and beautiful – but Scott had seen it before. He was mostly taken with how beautiful Allison was. She was only wearing jeans and a blouse with a cardigan over it, but she could have worn a trash bag for all Scott cared. They made their way through the crowd of dancing teens. On a typical Friday, most of these people would have been at the Bronze – Cordelia and Harmony were clearly gossiping about boys in one corner of the living room. Stiles, who had only been invited because he was technically on the lacrosse team – the same reason Scott had been invited – was dancing awkwardly near the door to Lydia's patio. Scott looked away, and Allison grabbed his hand. "Let's go dance by the pool?" she offered.

He followed her through the door outside – catching sight of Lydia and Jackson making out against one of the walls before he was thoroughly entranced by Allison's movements, perfectly in time with the music that pumped through speakers across the whole house.

But then something else caught Scott's attention. He couldn't see it, only feel it. He looked around, confused, alarmed. And then he caught sight of him, standing by the back gate to Lydia's yard. Just watching.

Derek Hale.

"You okay?" Allison asked.

"What?" Scott's attention was back on her, "Yeah, fine." When he looked back to the gate, no one was there. He thought, for a moment, he saw a shadow move on the roof. Whatever it was, it wasn't important. What mattered now was Allison.

They danced, moving together like one person. Allison had to guide his body a little bit to keep with the rhythm of the music, but it didn't seem to matter to her and it certainly didn't matter to Scott. Their bodies drew closer together, and Scott's heart beat faster.

And then, it seemed to be beating too fast. His body began to ache – his mouth, his fingers, his even his toes. Pain coursed through him.

"Scott, are you okay?"

"I… I gotta…" Scott stammered. He couldn't think of an excuse, and his vision was getting blurry. He stumbled back, tripping up the steps back into Lydia's house. He could hear Allison behind him, concerned. Stiles' voice reached him, asking if he was okay. He couldn't answer, he could barely think. He somehow reached the car, got inside, and – fumbling with the keys – started the engine. All he could think to do was get away from everyone, as quickly as possible.

And so he drove away.

Allison watched as Scott veered out of Lydia's driveway and careened down the road. She had been worried – now she was pissed. And stranded. Mostly stranded.

"Allison, right?" a voice said from behind her.

She turned and saw a tall, handsome man in a leather jacket smiling at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm Derek. Friend of Scott's. I'm gonna take you back to your house. Whenever you're ready to go."

"Now's good," Allison said. She could have stayed, but she wasn't really in much of a mood to party any more.


McCall House

Scott wasn't even sure how he'd made it home and into the shower, but he had. Hopefully, whatever was happening would pass soon.

Not whatever. Stiles had been right. This was the Change. The moon, the adrenaline, the dancing. His pulse. He was changing into a wolf. But at least he was doing it in the privacy of his own shower.

And then someone started knocking on his bedroom door. The adjoining door to the shower was still open, so Scott could hear it clearly enough. "Scott?" Stiles' voice shouted through the closed door.

Scott turned his head. "Go away, Stiles!" In the mirror across from the shower, he caught sight of his mouth. He had fangs, sharp teeth extending from his upper and lower rows of teeth. His eyes were glowing yellow. He could not let Stiles see him like this.

He ran to the door and shoved it just as Stiles began to turn the knob to open it. "Let me in, Scott, I can help!"

"No," Scott growled, "Just go find Allison!"

"She's fine," Stiles insisted, "She got a ride from the party. Let me help you."

"Derek," Scott gasped as another jet of searing pain ripped through him, "I think Derek Hale is a werewolf. I think he's the one who bit me. He killed the girl in the woods!"

Stiles was silent for a second. Then he blurted out, "Derek Hale is the one who gave Allison a ride home."

Scott had crossed the room and leapt out the window before Stiles could even open the door. Scott hit the ground outside, splashing into some mud. Hs fingers had extended into claws, and he could feel his ears growing pointed. He couldn't control it – he stared up at the moon and he howled.


Argent House

Stiles slammed on the brakes of his Jeep as soon as he pulled into the Argent driveway, and leapt from the vehicle. He hurled himself up the steps to the front door and frantically rang the doorbell.

When the door opened, a stern looking woman with short red hair stood in the opening and stared at him. "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Argent? Oh, you have no idea who I am, huh? I'm a friend of Allison's," Stiles babbled, "This is going to sound crazy but, at the party, and—"

"Allison, it's for you!" the woman shouted up the stairs behind her. Allison appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down at Stiles.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Clearly, she was not in any sort of mood to see any of Scott's friends.


Sunnydale Nature Preserve

Scott had lost Allison's scent. It was infuriating, he'd followed it this far into the woods and now it had stopped at this random tree. At a loss, he stared up.

There, dangling from a branch, was Allison's cardigan. "Where is she?" he growled.

"Safe from you," Derek's voice answered.

Scott spun on his heel. Derek was only feet away from him. Scott leapt into the air – and was a met with a firm shove from his opponent. Scott slammed backwards into the tree from the force of it. Derek was on him in a second, pinning him to the bark.

"Quiet," he hissed, his eyes darting to the sides. A rustle of leaves caught the ears of both werewolves. "Too late, let's go. Run!"

Both of them took off at their top speed. A gunshot sounded and a flash of light erupted in front of Scott, blinding him only for a moment. The moment was long enough – an arrow pierced through his arm, pinning him to a tree. He howled in pain.

"Finish him," the voice of one of his assailants ordered.

Scott could barely make out what followed, his vision still affected by the light. Two of the three attackers were thrown aside, knocked unconscious. The third – the only one whose face Scott could clearly make out – remained calm, but vigilantly watched all around him. While his attention was diverted from Scott, Derek appeared and snapped the arrow off and pulled Scott deeper into the woods with him.

Minutes later, Scott collapsed, reverted to his human form. "Did we lose them?" he gasped.

"I think so," Derek nodded, "Rest. You'll heal quickly."

"Who were they?" Scott asked.

"Hunters," Derek explained, "They've been after our kind for centuries."

"Our kind?" Scott spat, "You mean your kind. You did this to me!"

Derek rolled his eyes and jutted out his jaw, obviously irritated. "The bite is a gift, you've got speed and senses beyond that of any human. You can heal faster, look at your arm!"

Indeed, the wound was mending itself before Scott's eyes, but it didn't seem to ease his rage. "A gift? I don't want it!"

"You'll need to control it," Derek continued, "And that's where I can help you. So from now on, we're brothers. Got it?"

As much as he hated it, he couldn't really argue now. Scott nodded.


Sunnydale High: Outside (Morning)

The weekend had passed peacefully enough. Derek had urged Scott to stay at his house to control the change, while the moon was at it's fullest. Scott refused, but – at least from what he'd told Stiles – the Change hadn't been that unbearable. According to the books, the first Change was usually easier than the second. The wolf, apparently, needed more time to gather its strength. That did anything but help Scott handle his stress.

Stiles smiled reassuringly at Scott. "You'll be okay," he said.

Scott shook his head. "The worst part is, the part I'm most worried about is…"

"If you finish that sentence with 'Allison' I'm going to punch you in the head," Stiles warned.

"I bet she hates me!" Scott moaned.

"I did what damage control I could," Stiles told his friend, "But, yeah, you're going to need a stellar apology. The rest of it… you're not alone. Hell, I'll tie you up and feed you mice on full moons if I have to. I had a boa once, I could do it."

Scott chuckled despite himself. "Right."

"This morning though, we should probably go to the library," Stiles said hesitantly, "I think you need to talk to Buffy."

"I really don't want to," Scott resisted.

Stiles shook his head. "Maybe not usually, but this morning you definitely do want to talk to her. Trust me."


Sunnydale High: Outside (Afternoon)

Scott sat patiently on the bench outside the school. Allison had been avoiding him all day. Fair, since he hadn't talked to her all weekend. When she finally did stride out of the school building and saw him, her demeanor became infuriated. "What happened?" she snapped, "You just left me at the party."

"I know," Scott said, guilt soaking through his every word, "I'm really so sorry. You're going to have to trust I had a really good reason."

"Did you get sick?" Allison asked.

Scott shrugged. "Kind of? I definitely had an attack of something…"

"Am I getting an explanation or not? Allison demanded.

"Can you find it in your heart just to trust me on this one?" Scott asked.

Allison scowled for a minute, then stared him hard in the eye. "Am I going to regret this?"

"Probably," Scott admitted. She giggled. He pressed his luck a little farther. "So that's a yes on the second chance?"

"Definitely yes," she nodded. A car horn beeped in the parking lot, and she turned to look. "Oh, that's my dad. I have to run." She took off towards a red minivan parked at the edge of the driveway, and Scott turned to leave. A familiar scent caught him, though, and he turned back.

And watched Allison climb into a car with the third hunter from his harrowing Friday night battle. Allison's father had tried to kill him.

And that was before he knew they were dating.