Jeeeese! Over 20 reviews for only 3 chapters?! *sniffle* so moved!
Special thanks to: High Serpent King, "avid fan", "Guest 1", XxWhispersAndDreamsxX, "Guest 2", xxxanniexx, "Heather", SortofForever, 99Tina99, EmeraldGrey22, and Wolflihood
All of you make this so much more rewarding! This chapter was inspired by IAMX's "Animal Impulses" and the 8tracks will be up within the next two updates!
This update has some pretty important learning curves for Charlie (though she won't realize until later - with a little nudge from Allison/Scott). Anyways, thanks for the patience, cause mid-terms are finally over! Yippeee!
Anyway, lemme know what y'all think! Pleaseeee follow, favorite, and comment if you like what yah read! SOOO READ AWAY and ENJOY MY DARLINGS!
FOUR: ANIMAL IMPULSES
Biting my nails, I waited slumped outside of the principal's office as I continued to bounce my legs, head spinning and pulse racing.
There was no denying what I saw. I saw Isaac's enraged blue eyes suddenly glow bright yellow as he was shoved into the back of Sheriff Stilinski's squad car, but why had Lahey even been arrested?
I knew Derek had to be behind this whole thing, but before I ran off to kick the crap out of my older cousin and then go clean up his colossal mess, I needed to know the facts, but… of course, the only two people who could help me were currently being cross-examined by Gerard Argent.
I felt beyond overwhelmed, and as I tried to strain my ears to hear what painful interrogation was taking place behind closed doors, all I could make out were low, garbled voices.
Damn hunters. Sound-proofing everything…
Thoroughly frustrated and having panicked heart palpitations, I sighed and absentmindedly slammed my head back against the wall rather hard, but as I let out a low, pained grunt and rubbed the small growing lump, the door opened.
Immediately sitting up, I intently watched the edgy looking Stiles and Scott exiting the office, as the taller, lankier teen's light brown eyes landed on my urgent expression.
His heart was racing, but assuming it was because he had just been locked in a room with Allison's terrifying grandfather, I merely leapt up and hurriedly asked: "Stiles. Scott. What the Hell is going…"
But as both oddly stiff teenagers merely stared back at me with uncomfortable expressions, my wide eyes landed right on Gerard's silently watching form standing in the doorway.
Mouth going dry, I swallowed the rest of my sentence the moment his beady little black eyes peered down at me.
Following the two rigid and quiet teens outside, the balding man's face was decorated with an eerily knowing smirk.
"And who is this young lady skipping class?" he raised his white brows at me, though his voice was more curious than authoritative.
I knew that Allison and her parents were well aware about what I was, but there was no way of telling whether or not they had filled in Gerard, and I wasn't inclined to just hand-feed him my relation to one of the most well-known werewolf families on the west coast.
"Ugh, um," I stuttered, completely at a loss for words whilst I tried to come up with an acceptable alias.
"She's a friend," Stiles suddenly blurted out, flashing a weak smile.
Shooting him a look, I really wanted to slap the hyperactive teen upside the head, but when Gerard continued to eye me closely, I turned my scolding expression into a bright, innocent grin.
"I assumed that, Mr. Stilinski, from her loitering outside my office to get a quick word in with you two," his words were slow and calculated, only making Stilinski chuckle nervously.
"S-sorry," I apologized, trying to appear as calm as possible, though my stomach was churning. "I'm, um, I'm still kinda new here, and ugh, I saw the police and got worried so I came to find Stiles and Scott."
Hoping he'd buy my naïve façade, the old hunter glanced at both boys who were now nodding quite vigorously in agreement.
Face even, I couldn't read what was going through that sinister mind, so I sighed and opened my mouth to try a different route, but soon Gerard's wrinkled face lit up.
"Ah, you must be Charlie," he stated airily, friendly smile spreading across his face whilst his black eyes held a glimmer of malice behind them. "Allison's close friend who just moved here from… what was it?"
"Manhattan," I replied with a curt nod, glancing nervously at the two staring boys, whose hearts were also racing.
"New York City," he beamed, voice grand. "The City that Never Sleeps. Quite a change coming to a sleepy town like Beacon Hills, but I'm sure hanging out with these two and my granddaughter have kept things interesting."
All three of us laughing stiffly, I decided to keep my mouth shut rather than give anything away, for I had the sinking feeling that Gerard knew a lot more than he was letting on.
"I just hope these two aren't turning you into a troublemaker," Gerard's cold eyes glanced at both boys, who were now standing on either side of me.
Snorting a bit over those preposterous words, I had to nudge Stilinski in the ribs, but as Gerard took in the gangly kid rubbing his side and my and Scott's uncomfortable smirks, the frightening hunter continued: "But as I told them, I don't like to be made the bad guy, so make sure this is the last time I hear of you skipping classes, okay?"
Taking in his arched brows, I listened to his steadily beating heart and nodded my head as sincerely as possible.
I wanted no reason to be called into his office, because the only alone time I desired to spend with this man would be when I was tearing him limb from limb.
"Now, get back to class," he shooed us away, and as both boys yanked me back and practically sprinted down the hallway, I stole one last glance at the wickedly smiling man's face and felt rage bubbling up inside of me.
I knew my fear of Gerard was a rational one, but I couldn't help but be disappointed in myself. No one ever intimidated me, least of all a human hunter. He was a cold-blooded killer, and a problem that needed to be eliminated. There was no time to be afraid.
"Where've you been?" Stilinski hissed a tad scoldingly as we rounded the corner. "You just took off."
Snapping out of my dark thoughts, I recalled my unnerving encounter with Jackson. I still couldn't explain that burning sensation I felt when he grabbed me, but considering Isaac was the new beta running rampant through town, I chalked up Whittemore's odd behavior to just that… odd, but not troublesome enough to mention.
"I had something I needed to check up on," I kept the strange occurrence to myself, going immediately back to gnawing on my fingernails.
Jesus, my head was hurt…
"For two class periods?" McCall asked, completely unconvinced.
Glancing between both impatiently awaiting teenagers, my throbbing mind shot back to the irritating encounter with Ms. Morrell and my temper flared up some more.
"Well then I was forced into some half-rate therapy session because your dad apparently thinks I'm a ticking time bomb," I growled stonily, eyes taking in Stilinski's somewhat surprised expression at the mention of his father: "As if I'm gonna go off unless I 'open up' and talk to an unqualified language teacher…"
Making a thoughtful face, Stiles puffed out his cheeks and offered with a shrug: "Maybe it'll be good for you… you know, learning to express your feelings in a healthier way than…"
"Than threatening to bash your teeth in if you don't stop talking?" I cut him off crossly, feeling fresh waves a nausea sweeping back over my still-sweating body.
Looking from my dangerous face to Scott's wide chocolate eyes, Stiles then nodded jerkily, his voice a tad high: "P-point taken. Shutting up."
"Besides," I blew some hair out of my face as we stopped off at Stilinski's locker. "Pretty sure we have more pressing matters to deal with."
"Yeah, like I knew Isaac was a little off, but murdering his dad?" Stiles asked, jamming some books into his overflowing and cluttered locker.
Eyes nearly bulging out of my face, I let out some stunned and choked syllables only to blurt out an incredulous: "He what?"
Glancing from his best friend to my distressed face, Scott asked quietly: "You didn't know?"
"NO!" my voice was shrill as my eyes darted between both awkwardly speechless teens.
"But you saw the cops. You had to have at least heard he got arrested, I mean its all over the school," McCall stated the obvious.
"I did," my voice was strained as I began to pace about anxiously. "And I figured he just lost control and maybe hurt someone like a normal newbie does, but murder?"
"I'm glad you think physically harming someone else is completely acceptable," Stiles muttered whilst repeatedly trying and failing to shut his stuffed locker.
Ignoring his grumbles, I continued to walk back and forth, my breathing becoming more and more erratic.
"This is great… just fricken great," I mumbled under my quickened breath.
Derek just had to pick the kid that gets the crap kicked out of him every night… like what the Hell did he think was gonna happen? Being a werewolf cured physical and mental illness, but it couldn't remedy such emotional scarring…
"What?" McCall seemed beyond freaked at how panicked I was, all while Stiles was using all of his weight to try to shut the locker.
"My cousin's just an ever bigger idiot than I thought possible," I put my hands on my head and tried to steady my breathing.
Calm down, Charlie.
You can't lose control now.
You need to focus.
Exhaling deeply, I casually punched Stilinski's locker closed, locking it in the process.
"So what are they gonna do with him?" I asked, attempting to regain some composure as I stared up at Stiles somewhat shocked expression.
As Stilinski's caramel eyes darted from the large dent in his locker to my unphased face, Scott was the one to speak up: "I guess whatever they do with all murder suspects, right?"
Heart sinking, Stiles and I immediately looked at one another in trepidation the moment we realized what those words actually meant.
Glancing between our highly alarmed faces, the young beta was obviously lost: "Is that a bad thing?"
"Very bad," Stiles looked at his best friend, voice and face extremely grave.
Now very alarmed, but still confused, Scott merely stared back at his lanky and pale companion.
"They're, ugh, they're gonna lock him a holding cell for 24 hours," the eccentric teen responded in a low voice.
"Like… overnight?" the adorable, yet sometimes thick tan teen asked.
"Yes, Scott," I spoke up, biting my lip a bit. "During his first full moon…"
Deep brown eyes widening in realization, Scott's voice was now quite strained: "How good are these cells at holding people?"
"People, good," Stiles mused out loud, before sharing the grim truth. "Werewolves… probably not that good."
"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?" McCall brought up some conversation I clearly had missed.
"Yeah," Stilinski nodded, voice filled with trepidation.
"Well I think, ugh, I think he does," the tan teen's heart was racing.
Turning to see Stiles' thoroughly worried face, I knew exactly where his racing mind was traveling: his father.
Feeling horrible for the rightfully worried son, Scott must have had the same assumption as he blurted out: "Wait! Wait! Isaac's a minor! Your dad won't hold a minor right?"
Taking in the teenager's optimistic expression and positive tone of voice, Stiles seemed appreciative over his friend's attempt at finding the bright side of the situation, but soon his hopeful face fell: "Not unless they have solid evidence…"
Moaning despite my best efforts, I felt both of my companions' gazes shoot right over to me.
"What?" Stilinski asked, clearly now even more concerned.
I understood voicing what dark thoughts were running through my mind would only heighten the dorky kid's anxiety, so I practically whispered apologetically: "Or a witness…"
Glancing from one another back to me, I ran a hand through my hair and connected the horrible dots for them: "Jackson was in the office talking to your dad, right?"
"So?" McCall asked, furrowing his brows.
Almost hearing his heart sink, Stiles' defeated light brown eyes gazed at my sad ones as he finally grasped that his father was going to be in grave danger this evening: "He's Isaac's neighbor."
Feeling so awful for the extremely fretful boy staring at his speechless best friend, all I wanted to do was tell him that everything would be okay, however, I also knew I could never promise such a thing. Not with a brand new, possibly homicidal werewolf being kept in the police station during the full moon.
Still, taking in his lost and helpless face, I felt the urge to do something.
"Okay," I looked between both boys with a determined face. "So what do we do?"
Staring back at me blankly, I knew Scott would be no help, but when I glanced at the king of strategizing, Stilinski merely looked despondently out the window, his distraught pulse racing.
"What's the plan?" I repeated sternly, making his caramel eyes meet mine.
"I-I don't know," he muttered.
The panic was making him freeze, but just how Stiles was there to help me focus so many times, now it was my turn to return the favor.
"Stiles, I'm not gonna let anything happen to him," I stepped forward, looking right up into his face, my voice soft. "But you need to point me in the right direction."
Staring down at my steady, unwavering gaze, the pale teen blinked and nodded a bit, running a hand over his short, dark brown hair.
"Y-yeah, okay," he was slowly shaking off his crippling angst, making a small smirk form on my satisfied face. "But I, um, I got detention so… so you and Scott cut the next class and figure out if we can get him a lawyer, and once I'm out, I'll meet up with you guys."
"Great, but what, um, what if we can't get the lawyer?" Scott asked, glancing between his best friend and I still staring at one another.
Pausing, Stilinski was lost for words once again, most likely feeling that overwhelming weight of fear, but holding his worried gaze, I spoke up confidently: "Then we'll find a way to break him out, right?"
But when Stiles continued to gaze down at me, visibly shaken at the thought of his father being so close to such a rabid beast, I reached out, touched his shoulder, and stated more forcefully: "Right?"
Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, Stiles then repeated with a forced, bleak smile: "Right."
"No one's getting hurt tonight," I added gently, flashing my own fake, albeit convincing smirk, "We got this."
And with one last, small squeeze of the nerd's lean, yet oddly muscular arm, I turned and headed out the door.
Lagging behind, Scott had been closely watching the uncharacteristically tender exchange with a strange expression, so I then called over my shoulder: "Are you coming?"
Hearing him quickly shuffle after me, the tan teen continued to stare as we headed towards the main exit, and after another few moments of the irritating prickling sensation of his probing eyes, I turned to him and growled: "What?"
Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, Scott shook his head and muttered: "Nothing."
"Scott," I pursed my lips as I stepped through the door McCall was holding open for me. "You're a miserable liar, and I can hear your heart."
Squinting in the brilliant sunlight, the young beta observed my impatient face as I cocked a brow at him.
"It's just that I've never seen you like that," he responded, tip-toeing around whatever he was thinking about.
"Like what?" I asked, face impassive though my voice was slightly on edge.
"Ugh… I-I don't know… I guess, um, I guess you and Stiles are closer than I thought…"
Eyeing the small, crooked grin spreading on Scott's dimpled face, I immediately grew hot.
What was he talking about? Nothing even happened. I was just being a good friend.
"I-I mean, I live with him and he's been helping me a lot lately, so I… I guess we've gotten closer, but you know… we're friends," I laughed a little, shrugging and hoping my cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "And he was concerned about his dad and… and…" taking in McCall's widening, toothy grin, I blurted out a bit more gruffly: "Stiles freaking out wasn't gonna solve anything, so I needed to get him to focus. That's it. Nothing major."
Still gazing down at me with that stupid smile on his face, half of me wanted to bury my burning face into my hands, and the other half wanted to deck him.
God, I really hated the full moon.
Before I could snap at my irksome werewolf companion, however, a shiny black Camaro screeched to a stop directly in front of us, making Scott and I leapt back a bit in surprise.
"Get in," Derek commanded from the open window, brilliant green eyes peering at us from over his sunglasses.
"Are you serious?" Scott growled, stepping in front of me aggressively.
"Yes," Derek barely even glanced at the young beta, his gaze fixated on my fuming face.
"This is all your fault," I crossed my arms, glowering at my stupid older cousin.
"I know that," he snapped, before swallowing his pride and grunting: "Now will you get in the car and help me?"
"No, I've got a better idea," McCall snarled, eyes narrowed. "We're gonna call a lawyer, because they might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up."
Standing firmly beside my friend, I watched Derek look to me, but I merely turned my nose up at him in silent defiance.
Did he really think he could just go around turning teenagers and nothing would happen? Moreover, how could he expect us to just stop everything to help him clean up the mess he made?
Hearing his heart rate elevate, I saw a vein starting to protrude from his thick neck as he sarcastically shot back in aggravation: "Yeah, well not when they do a real search of the house."
Stomach dropping a bit, Scott and my stubborn insubordination wavered whilst the beta timorously inquired: "What do you mean?"
Eyes darting between both McCall and myself, my older cousin then stated evenly: "Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in that house is worse. A lot worse."
And as Scott and I stared back at Derek's sincerely ominous expression, we turned to glance at once another, silently concurring that we needed to find out what the new alpha was keeping from us.
Then, with a heavy sigh, we silently piled into the dark sports car, completely unprepared for what was to come.
Sun slowly setting, I continued to anxiously check my phone every couple of minutes, only to find that I still had no messages.
I knew Mr. Harris loved causing students pain, but a detention this long? That was plain sadistic!
"You okay there?" Derek asked dully, glancing over to me from where I was sitting shotgun.
Quickly drumming my fingers on the armrest, I simply stared darkly out the window and clenched my jaw.
I could feel his eyes boring holes into the side of my face, but I didn't care. I was too worried about Stiles and Isaac, too sick from my withdrawal, and too pissed about the entire nightmarish situation to respond to the man beside me.
"What? You're not even gonna talk to me now?" he pressed on, and I could hear Scott shifting a bit anxiously in the back seat.
Watching the houses zoom by, I felt myself growing more and more erratic with each passing second, and as the sun disappeared behind the distant horizon of trees, I began to grow sicker.
Closing my eyes, I attempted to block everything out. My pounding head, my queasy stomach, my burning lungs… it was all getting worse, but when Derek continued to goad me, I snapped.
"Why would I talk to you? What you did was stupid, irresponsible, and selfish!" I barked, balling my fists as I turned and glared right into his equally furious face.
"Look who's talking," he retorted snottily, obviously referring to my past misdeeds.
Catching Scott's silently warning gaze, I understood why the tan teen would want me to just let my cousin's dig go, but with the withdrawal only heightening the full moon's effects, I couldn't help but shoot back: "Well at least I managed not to become a national fugitive..."
"You know the charges are being dropped," my older cousin growled through clenched teeth as we turned onto Isaac and Jackson's block.
"And there's no red flags going off in that thick head of yours that maybe you should, oh, I don't know, lay low!"
Pulling up the driveway to Lahey's dark, vacant home, Derek and I just sat there, shooting daggers at one another, but after a few tense moments on nothing but the sound of two enraged pulses, Scott cleared his throat: "M-maybe we should, um, go inside…"
Still glowering at my mentally challenged older cousin, I sourly kicked his door open, knowing that would irk the guy some more.
Then, as the other two piled out, I slammed the Camaro's door shut, making the entire vehicle shake.
"Could you be a little louder?" Derek scolded me in a low, threatening voice, but I merely flashed him an obnoxious smile before flipping my hair and leading the procession around the side of moonlit lawn.
Sneaking up to the back of the house, Derek then gruffly pushed me out of the way and bent down, using his claws to pick the lock on the door, and after a 'click' was heard, it swung open with a long, unsettling creak.
Peering into the darkness, all three of us just stood there, a bit apprehensive.
"Ladies first," Derek's haughty voice sneered in my ear.
Swatting at his stubbly face, I then stonily remarked: "Fine. It's not like the goddamn place is haunted."
But once we all stepped inside the shadowy home and closed the door behind us, I felt a crushing and oppressive feeling wash over me, and instantly, I found it harder to breathe.
Stopping in my tracks, I looked around.
Something was off…
"You feel it, don't you?" Derek's low voice no longer held a tone of irritation.
"Feel what?" Scott asked, brows furrowed and voice hushed.
"What happened here," my older cousin responded for me as I continued to make my way around the kitchen.
Sudden crackling noise coming from underneath my feet, I looked down and saw a hard, twinkling substance scattered across the tile floor: broken porcelain plates.
Squatting down, I picked a few pieces up, but the moment I gripped the sharp shards, I saw flashes of flying dishes, angry shouts, and felt an intense wave of fear and anguish.
Jumping up, I stumbled back against the counter and dropped the broken kitchenware back down whilst I grew slightly faint.
"Charlie," Scott rushed forward as I swayed a bit, gripping the island to keep myself steady. "Are you okay?" but when all I could do was wave him off and clamp my eyes shut, McCall turned to my older cousin and demanded: "What just happened to her?"
Head spinning as I felt my stomach churning, I managed to gasp out: "I-I think he's… he's innocent…"
"What?" Scott incredulously turned to face me as I began to undergo yet another cold sweat.
Glancing at my somewhat proud looking older cousin, I exhaled with a wavering voice: "He… he didn't kill his dad."
Turning back to face Derek, McCall saw just how unphased the alpha was, as if he had known the truth this entire time.
"Well if Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" Scott asked, his voice sounding different to my ringing ears.
Green eyes growing darker, Derek confessed honestly: "I don't know yet."
"Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" Scott's skepticism was apparent.
"Because," Derek nodded over to me as I continued to attempt to regain my composure. "Like her, I trust my senses… and it's a combination of them. Not just your sense of smell."
Hearing the slightly mocking tone to his voice, I glanced up from my feet and saw Scott's embarrassed expression.
I was definitely missing something, but to be honest, I felt way too ill to even care. My body ached and as my eyes slowly drifted to the open window, I saw the full moon making its steady climb up into the sky.
A shudder went through my body.
"You saw the lacrosse thing today," McCall's sheepish voice was barely audible over my own pumping blood.
"Yeah."
"Did it look that bad?" his face was almost a pained one.
And very much a Hale, Derek felt no need to sugar coat it as he impassively stated: "Yup."
Appearing disappointed in himself, Scott let out a sigh, but then Derek stepped forward, yanked open the basement door, and called over: "You wanna learn? Let's start now."
"W-what's down there?" Scott inched forward as I watched their hazy forms from where I was standing.
My vision was going dim and my brain was beginning to get all fuzzy.
"Motive," Derek's voice was faraway and echoing.
"And what am I looking for?" Scott started down the creaky steps.
"Follow your senses," Derek instructed, but soon he turned back around and raised his brows at me impatiently: "You just gonna stand there?"
Feeling every muscle tensing up, I tried to swallow the chunks rising in my throat, and as I gagged them down, I nodded stiffly and slowly made my way forward.
Trying to pass my older cousin, I felt his large hand fall heavily on my shoulder, stopping me.
"Should I be worried about you?" he asked, tone flat.
Looking up at his bright green eyes, I could tell there was a part of him that was truly concerned, but being my typical self, I hated feeling vulnerable and bitingly retorted: "I've survived this long without you giving a crap, I think I can make it through tonight…"
"Charlie," his grip tightened around me to the point where I winced a bit.
Glancing back up at his grave face, I huffed and begrudgingly stated: "It's just the full moon. I'm fine."
"You sure?" he raised his brows at me, clearly not convinced and from the concentrated expression on his handsome face, I knew that he was listening to my erratic heartbeat. "Cause it's the first one without your, um, your medicine."
"It wasn't medicine," I shot back, mind traveling back to how my father used that term to feed me those pills. "It was poison. And trust me, I know…"
Knocking his hand off of me, I turned to march down the steps, but Derek put his muscular arm up and blocked my path.
Sighing in aggravation, I made a face up at him as he inquired with genuine worry: "How bad is it?"
"What? The withdrawal?" I asked testily, eyebrows arched as I sarcastically quipped: "Well besides the pounding headaches and fevers, constant urge to hurl my cookies, lack of appetite and sleep, and the nagging desire to rip peoples' throats out, I'd say I'm having a grand old time."
Staring down at me, I saw a sad look flash behind his usually inexpressive eyes, making me instantaneously grow uncomfortable.
I despised when people pitied me. It made me feel weaker than I already was.
"Am I gonna have another werewolf to chain up somewhere tonight?"
Blood beginning to boil, I couldn't hold my tongue as I narrowed my eyes and sharply stated: "You don't have a right to guilt me about my issues, Derek. And if you're so worried about taking care of my baggage on top of yours, maybe you shouldn't have gone around biting half the town."
Based on his speechless and somewhat hurt expression, I knew my harsh yet true words took my older cousin off guard, but I didn't care: "So can I go now? Cause I'd really like to clean up your mess before the Argents get involved."
Ducking under his beefy arm, I then stomped down the steps, feeling so much ire pumping through my veins.
Where did he get off pretending to actually give a shit? I was finally trying to get clean and learn control. I was working to turn my life around, but obviously all Derek cared about was himself. My effort to get sober was simply bad timing in his eyes, cause if I had a slip up, he was gonna have to actually be there, if not for me than to save his own hide.
The Argents were up our asses and Gerard had just come to town, Lydia Martin's case was an unsolved and disturbing mystery, and Scott still needed a ton of training. It was a lot for all of us to deal with, but I had no sympathy for him. He shouldn't have bitten Jackson or turned Isaac if he couldn't handle it. Derek got himself into this entire mess, and now here he was, trying to belittle me?
Nails digging deeply into my palms as I balled my fists, I glowered ahead as Scott slowly moved about the damp basement.
"What happened down here?" he asked Derek, who had silently followed, his own pulse elevated slightly.
Good. I'm glad I got under his skin.
"The kind of thing that leaves an impression," he replied firmly, avoiding my glares as McCall drifted over to a huge, unplugged freezer lying against the wall.
Hand hovering over it, I could see that Scott was sensing something, and from the look behind his chocolate eyes, I knew it couldn't be good.
"Open it," Derek coaxed the beta on.
Timidly gripping the handle, Scott then yanked the squeaking and heavy door open.
Eyes immediately widening in shock and horror at whatever he had found inside that crypt-like white box, Scott stammered with wide eyes: "T-this is why… this is why he said yes to you?"
Curiosity now outweighing my rage, I stepped forward to get a glimpse of what was so severely troubling McCall.
"Everyone wants power," Derek responded matter-of-factly.
Inching closer, I peered inside, only to find a tattered pillow, immediately making my heart break.
No… Mr. Lahey may have knocked his son around a little, but this… this was just too evil.
"If we help you, then you have to stop," Scott had walked over to where my cousin was watching on, arms crossed. "You can't just go around turning people into werewolves."
"I can if they're willing," was his careless response, but I barely paid him any mind, for soon my eyes caught the most upsetting of sights.
There, illuminated by the pale moonlight, were the deep and bloodstained marks of someone's nails on the back of the door, as if they had desperately tried to scratch their way out.
"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?" Scott's voice was shrill, but distant.
"Yes, and he still asked," Derek confirmed that Lahey had freely elected to join such a dreadful lifestyle.
"Then he's an idiot!"
Trembling hand stretching out, I could faintly hear Scott and my older cousin's argument, but the moment my long, delicate fingers gingerly touched the painful nail marks, visions of Isaac tearfully begging his father not to do this to him again, only to be chain in the claustrophobic freezer for hours, screaming and wailing in sheer terror, I became flooded with all of those emotions.
"And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter," my older cousin's voice sounded distorted as he continued to fight with my friend. "Yeah.
I know you're little secret, and if I know, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find out?"
Pulling my hand away, I felt my chest tighten as all of Isaac's imprinted fear, pain, sorrow, stress, and loneliness all morphed onto an intense, overwhelming sensation of white-hot anger.
"You saw what happens to an omega. With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control… even on a full moon."
Eyes drifting up to the moon shining from the window, every cell in my body vibrated with wrath, my heart pounding so hard against my chest that I thought it would burst.
"If I'm with you, I lose her," Scott's voice was soft and almost melancholic.
"You're gonna lose her anyway. Deep down, you know that."
Still too engrossed in their quarrel to even notice the low, deep growls coming from my panting chest, McCall somberly dropped his voice: "I'm still not gonna be part of your pack, but I want him out. He's my responsibility too"
Vision fluctuating between color and black and white, I felt myself beginning to lose control.
"Why, because he's one of us?" Derek asked as I felt my fangs beginning to involuntarily descend.
"Because he's innocent," Scott stated firmly, basically swearing to help save Isaac's life and be my cousin's ally in the process.
Both wolves continuing to talk, whatever plan they were currently devising sounded like nothing but extremely indistinct and deep hums whilst I rushed past them, blurting out some lame excuse about getting sick.
Sprinting up the stairs, I ran into the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it behind me. Back pressed against the wooden door, I tried to slow my breathing down, placing my hands on my head.
"Come on, Charlie," I could hear how animalistic my voice sounded, "Get a grip."
Stumbling forward, my clawed hands gripped the sink so tightly that my knuckles turned white, but once I caught a glimpse of my icy, glowing blue eyes and ever growing fangs, felt my backbone and ribs crack.
Grunting in pain, I hunched over, sweat dripping from every pour as I resisted the intense instinct to shift.
You've resisted the alpha's call before. You've remained in control when Peter tried to make you kill Lydia… even though you're a delta.
Wrists suddenly contorting themselves into the most inhuman of shapes with a sickened snap, I bit my lip, puncturing the skin in an effort to stifle my howls of pain.
Gasping for air, I fell to my knees as my arms twisted into even more mangled shapes.
Tearful eyes drifting up to the moon shining down at me through the window, I could see it was almost at its peak, and if I didn't regain control soon, I'd fully shift.
Feeling hopeless, I immediately felt another wave of pain go throughout my entire body as my muscles ripped.
Clamping my eyes shut, I forced myself to heal back into human form rather than my wolf one, but the pain was immense.
I was well past booze and cigarettes, and I desperately wished for my pills.
How could I have thought a stupid exorcise routine would work on a full fricken moon? I was so stupid!
Neck cracking, I gasped in agony as I dug claws into the carpet, but as my pumping blood continued to stifle any other noises from inside the house, I suddenly heard Allison's distant, yet frantic voice.
"Scott! Scott, are you down here?" I heard her clamoring down the steps as my legs broke and realigned themselves.
Whimpering in pain, I tasted the blood on my lips and only felt the beast within me become even more savage.
"Scott, they were asking me about Lydia, and now… now they're going after Isaac," the brunette's strained voice was rushed.
"What? What do you mean?" McCall was fumbling around with some chains, clearly planning on locking himself inside that hellish freezer and immediately making me wish I had somewhere to go.
I was fighting a losing battle.
Without the drugs, without a proper anchor, it was hopeless, and as I heard the tendons in my abdomen tearing I buried my face in my hands and let out a gargled sob.
"Stiles and I, we figured out where the hunter was going…"
Stiles?
I… I made a promise to Stiles…
I couldn't give in. Not this easily. I hadn't gone through all of this just to give up…
Tortured body literally searing from where it lay on the floor in the most contorted of positions, I tried to think of what that dork kid would say to me right now.
He'd tell me to think about my mom and the necklace… but the necklace was gone.
Back twisting and fracturing again, I emitted a low cry of desperation.
What was I going to do?
"We slowed him down and I shot him in the leg, but he got away..."
Allison and Scott's conversation sounded like whispers compared to my ripping insides.
You need to calm down. You need to breathe and work through the pain, Charlie.
You don't have the necklace for a reason. You needed a fresh start, so you need a new anchor.
Think.
Think about what makes you feel human.
But as I stared down at my hands halfway shifted from human to wolf, I truly believed there was not enough humanity in me left.
"And I came straight here to help you."
"Allison," I could hear the pain in Scott's own voice, the full moon now taking a hold over him as well. "Where is he? Where's Stiles?"
All of a sudden, everything went silent as every cell in my body froze.
Where was Stiles?
Pain slowly slipping away, my mind was now racing with an overbearing sense of panic.
Where was Stiles?
Looking back up at the full moon, my brain was swirling with all that could go wrong tonight.
Isaac was going to shift and possibly break free. Some hunter was out for blood. The Argents were hell-bent on bringing down Derek and anyone associated with him. Some unknown, dangerous beast had just killed Mr. Lahey, only to roam free in Beacon Hills. And now Scott and I were about to lose control?
No.
I couldn't let that happen.
Where was Stiles?
Slowly rising, I dragged myself out of the bathroom and limped my way towards the basement, feeling my bones slowly going back into their rightful places, and as I forced myself down the steps, vision still in black and white, I rounded the corner to see Scott hunched over and a worried Allison beside him.
"Are you sure you have to do this?" she whispered, staring down at the massive chains in her delicate hands.
"Allison, please," he beseeched her. "I don't wanna hurt you."
Soon, however, their tender moment was interrupted by my presence, for as I heaved my aching, half-shifted body closer, the lovers looked up.
"C-Charlie," the brunette's aghast voice was now beyond worried, her heart thumping wildly. "Are… are you okay?"
"Where's Stilinski?" I asked in a deep, beastlike snarl, ignoring her question.
Wide eyes taking in my deformed features, Scott's still human eyes hovered over my bloody fangs and dangerous, glowing blue eyes.
"Charlie, we need to get you somewhere…"
"Where's Stiles?" my voice shook furiously, as I continued to step closer and closer to them.
Now hopping up, McCall's own sweating and pain-filled form moved protectively in front of his secret girlfriend, obviously fearful that I was some sort of threat, and based on how I probably looked, I couldn't blame him.
"Charlie, you need to back up," I watched as he, himself, was struggling so much to keep from shifting.
"Just tell me where he is," I spoke slowly, suddenly feeling my claws retracting as the couple timidly watched on.
"He's… he's at the police station," Allison spoke up, her voice slightly higher than usual.
"Alone?" I asked, voice strained. "Where they're keeping Isaac? On his first full moon?"
Unsure of how to respond, Allison opened her mouth, most likely to apologize, but as they saw my fangs disappear and once wide, blue eyes return to their haunting gray hue, the tense lovers eased up.
Body flooding with terror, I paced about, no longer even concerned about losing control.
"How long's it been?" I demanded, turning back to face the gaping couple.
What the Hell were they staring at?
"How long's he been there alone?" I repeated myself more crossly, growing sicker by the moment.
If Scott and I were all ready having trouble, God only knew what state Isaac was in.
"I… I don't know, ten minutes?" the brunette ventured a guess whilst she continued to stare at me with the most intrigued of expressions.
Ignoring their irritating looks and trying not to let her thoughtlessness work me up even more, I then ran an anxious hand threw my hair and glanced at Scott's poor state.
"Right. Lock him in there, stay here, and call me if anything happens," I authoritatively directed the brunette, before wheeling around and rushing towards the staircase.
"Where are you going?" Scott's own voice was now much gruffer and deeper.
"The station!"
And with that, I sprinted the fastest I ever had in my entire life, my mind no longer plagued with thoughts of the full moon, for I was far too preoccupied with getting to that annoying dweeb with caramel eyes before anything could happen to him.
Every muscle in my legs stung and as I bound from tree to tree, my lungs ached, but I didn't care.
I could see the block for the police precinct quickly approaching, and as I leapt from branch to branch, I kept my ears peeled for any suspicious noises.
I was fully aware of everything that I was doing and feeling. My black and white vision was crystal clear, my heart rate, though accelerated, was even, and every powerful move I made was strategic, as if my body physically knew where my destination was.
My instincts had taken over, but rather than being terrified or overpowered by them, I actually felt in sync and balanced. It was the first time I had total control over my abilities, as if every sense was heightened but not actually hindering my ability to think, and it was empowering.
Catching a whiff of that familiar sweet minty scent, however, my rare sense of optimism was quickly reduced to nothing but straight panic. Stiles was close, but I still couldn't hear him.
Adrenaline pumping, I tried my hardest not to think the worst.
He was fine. He was always fine.
But as my thoughts turned back to whatever current unstable state Isaac was most likely in, my body just moved that much quicker.
Then, I caught the voice I was so desperate to hear.
"Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office," I let out an audible sigh of relief once his words reached my ears. "The problem is getting past the front desk."
He was alive. Stiles was alive!
Then, however, I heard whom the dork was talking to and my body tensed right back up.
"I'll distract her," came my older cousin's voice.
Racing through the treetops, I shredded any branches or leaves with my razor sharp claws, tunnel vision focused only on the quickly approaching police station.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stilinski's voice was slightly alarmed. "You? You're not going in there…"
"I was exonerated," Derek gave his weak argument, only making me mentally agree more with Stiles' response.
"You're still a person of interest."
"An innocent person."
Hearing his loud, mocking snorts, Stilinski retorted: "You? Yeah right." But based on my older cousin's pounding heart, I could tell he didn't appreciate the teenager's reaction. "O-okay, fine," Stiles' voice was a bit more timid, but he soon recovered his nerve: "What's your plan?"
"To distract her," my older cousin answered simply whilst the blue Jeep sitting idly in the parking lot finally came into view.
"Ugh-huh," I could hear the skepticism dripping off the lanky kid's words. "How? By punching her in the face?"
Letting out a fake laugh, Derek then quickly snapped: "No. By talking to her."
"All right," Stilinski sighed. "Give me a sample. What're you gonna open with?"
Dead silence.
"That should work beautifully," Stiles' sarcasm was the next thing I heard, causing me to assume that my cousin was being as reassuring as ever. "Any other ideas?"
Reaching the nearest tree to the property, I quickly leapt down and landed effortlessly in stride.
"I'm thinking about punching you in the face," Derek's tone was more thoughtful than threatening, but I could still hear Stiles' elevated pulse and anxious gulp.
Walking quickly through the shadowy lot, I then saw Derek exit the Jeep and head over to the station, only for Stiles to clumsily tumble out of the vehicle and scramble after him.
Catching up with the pale nerd within seconds, I was soon peeking in through the window at my older cousin beginning to sweet talk the lovely Deputy Graeme.
"H-how can I help you?" a small smirk was plastered on her lips.
"Hi," Derek flashed his adorably dimpled and beyond flirtatious grin. "Um, I had a question."
"This should be good," I muttered under my breath, practically sending the unsuspecting teenager out of his own skin.
Eyes wide and tumbling backward, he let out a strangled yelp of surprise, having not noticed my presence until that moment.
Though once he had registered that those eerie, glowing blue eyes belonged to me, Stiles' humorously startled expression morphed into a highly irritated one.
"That's not funny," he grumbled from the ground scoldingly, but I just continued to giggle at him as he got back up and brushed himself off.
"I think it is," my claws and fangs finally contracted, my body finally easing up now that I was here to make sure nothing could harm the hyperactive boy.
"What are you doing here anyway?" he demanded, still a bit sour as we turned to look back into the police station.
"You really want Derek as your only back-up?" I cocked a brow, voice lazy as my vision reverted back into color.
Puckering his lips a bit whilst he thought for a moment, Stiles then nodded in agreement over how true my statement was, but once we heard my older cousin continuing to charm the young African American police officer, I grabbed the distracted teen and dragged him to the front doors of the precinct.
"Ugh, sorry," Derek chuckled a bit. "I'm a little… I'm a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone…"
"Like me?" she cut him off with a slightly apprehensive tone.
Entering through the doors, I seized our opening and pushed my awkward companion in before me, but once I stepped into full view, Derek's calm green eyes seemed to flash a bit with both alarm and annoyance.
Displaying a large smile, I sardonically held up two thumbs, silently encouraging him to continue his performance.
Eyes begrudgingly darting back over to the young deputy's patiently awaiting face, Derek's momentarily faltered smirk gleamed brilliantly once again as he laid it on thick: "Oh, I was gonna say 'so incredibly beautiful' but, yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing."
Sniggering under my breath, I shook my head and turned back to follow the least stealthy person I had ever met doing some outlandish spy move as he slipped inside his father's office.
Rolling my eyes as he urgently waved at me to hurry up, I casually strolled in and closed the door behind me, knowing full well that acting casually would help us stay under the radar more than acting like some silly dancing monkey.
Now somewhat bored after the recent rush of excitement tracking down the dweeby human, I crossed my arms and peered around the untidy office whilst Stiles punched in the passcode.
How the Hell could the sheriff find anything in this mess?
"Ugh, Charlie," Stiles' cracking voice made me look over. "I-I, um, I think we have a problem."
And as I took in his wide eyes and racing heart, I saw what had Stilinski so nervous: the keys were missing.
A tad grumpy that we could never seem to catch a break, I followed my nose and soon found a light trail of blood leading down the dimly lit corridor.
Glancing back at my anxious partner, I saw his face drop even more.
"He's all ready here…"
"Who's here?" I whispered back, suddenly becoming more edgy than grouchy.
"The hunter Allison shot in the leg," he responded, recalling just how the two humans had slowed the guy down.
Normally I would have laughed over the idea of some stupid hunter getting an arrow in the leg, but right now, the situation had just escalated into something way more worrisome than I originally anticipated, and after glancing at one another for a split-second, Stiles and I hesitantly followed the trail.
Heart pounding, I tried to listen for the man's undoubtedly painful grunts, for the amount of blood on the floor led me to conclude that the wound was quite bad, but as we rounded the corner, completely distracted, we bumped right into another cop.
"Whoa, ugh, sorry," Stiles apologized, having run right into the unhappy man's chest. "We're just looking for..."
However his words soon trailed off, for once his caramel eyes drifted down to the syringe containing an unsettling yellow liquid, all the boy could do was mutter: "Oh, shit."
Taking a fearful step back as the hunter dressed as a deputy reached for some weapon, I quickly pushed my way forward and kick the small stub of the arrow still embedded in the man's leg.
Letting out a loud howl of pain, I then grabbed Stiles by the shirt collar and gruffly pushed him ahead of me, commanding: "Run."
Nodding vehemently, Stilinski slipped a bit and took off with me close at his heels.
I could hear the hunter getting up, and as we rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of him quickly approaching.
"We need to get to Isaac," I reminded the racing boy, my voice was more panicked than I wanted it to sound, but once we quite clearly heard the loud grunts of the lethal man gaining on us, Stiles yanked the fire alarm and shouted: "Over here!"
Practically diving inside the room with the holding cells, we were then met with an even more disturbing sight: the door to cell B was dented and kicked open, the heavy metal just barely hanging on by its hinges.
Stunned, the two of us just stood there dumbly for a second or two, and as we looked wildly around for any sign of Isaac, there was a loud crash behind us.
Spinning around, we then saw the new, fully shifted and completely enraged werewolf knock the hunter out with ease, stomping on the wolfsbane filled needle and shattering it.
And as a panting Lahey slowly turned, his blazing yellow eyes fixated on us like a hungry predator, I stepped protectively in front of my human friend and pushed him to the ground.
With Stiles sliding safely away, I heard him scramble behind some desk as Isaac and I circled and sized one another up.
"Isaac," I spoke slowly and dangerously, my claws coming out in preparation for the inevitable fight. "Don't make me do this," I warned.
Looking directly into his beastlike yellow eyes, I knew there was no reasoning with the wolf, for I saw no semblance of a conscious Isaac Lahey in there.
He was too far gone.
Within a split second, Lahey and I had launched ourselves at one another, claws out and fangs gnashing.
Crashing down to the floor, I felt Isaac's large, muscular body pinning me down, but as I glared up at his black and white, furry face, I decked him square in the nose and threw him off with ease.
Landing right on top of the desk where Stiles was hiding behind, Isaac's deadly gaze landed on the petrified kid's face.
"Whoa," Stilinski yelped, ducking just in time as the new werewolf's claw swiped at his face.
Gripping the beta by his ankles, I tore him off the desk, sending him flying into the all ready dented cell door.
Quickly checking to see that Stiles was still unharmed, I caught him crab-crawling backwards, mouth slightly opened, but once his caramel eyes widened, the panting teen yelped out: "Charlie!"
Wheeling around, I had no time to react as Isaac barreled right through me, knocking all the air from my lungs. Body slamming right into the wall, I immediately saw spots from how hard the blow was, and in my brief moment of dazed weakness, Lahey lifted his hand and prepared to strike his lethal blow, but as his clawed hand lingered above my head, a loud, wall-rattling roar sounded.
Instantly shrinking back and cupping his ears, Isaac cowered in the corner as a fully shifted Derek stepped into the room, bearing his fangs and eyes that frightening blood-red hue.
Wincing from where I stood, propped up against the cracked wall, I felt every inch of me shaking from the deafening sound, and as I rolled my stiff neck, I watched on as Isaac immediately turned from ravenous to docile.
"H-how'd you do that?" Stilinski asked, standing up, his eyes wide and face stunned yet relieved.
Smugly staring down as Isaac's meek and trembling form, Derek then turned to look at the dorky teen standing beside me with an almost gloating look whilst his deep voice stated powerfully: "I'm the alpha."
He certainly loved his newfound abilities, didn't he?
Rolling my eyes, I couldn't help be a bit irreverent as I hissed: "Was that really necessary?"
Turning from where he was still towering over the intimidated new beta, Derek shot me a look.
"Cause howling like that's really helping us keep a low profile," I continued to critique his irrational and impulsive plan. "The whole county probably heard you!"
"And if the cops came in and saw two brawling werewolves, that would be so much better," he shot back, gruffly grabbing Isaac and yanking the still shifted werewolf to his feet.
"I had it under control," I growled, eyes narrowed, but soon the only human in the room stepped up and stated: "Whatever, can we just get him out of here?"
Shooting Stilinski a somewhat stormy look, Derek was most likely about to say something threatening, but when I moved forward, now fully human, I cut him off: "He's right."
"I am?" Stiles sounded just as surprised as my sour older cousin looked.
Ignoring him, I continued with crossed arms: "Your charges aren't dropped yet and Isaac needs to disappear until we can prove he's innocent."
Opening his mouth to argue, my cousin and I suddenly heard the sound of Stiles' father entering the station and calling for the deputy, whom Derek undoubtedly knocked out during his unnecessary rush to help me detain his newest little pet.
"Get out of here," I barked urgently, once we heard the sheriff's quickly approaching steps bounding down the hallway. "Now!"
Turning and practically dragging the still trembling beta away behind him, Stiles and I only managed to exchange nervous looks before Sheriff Stilinski came dashing into the room.
Breathless and heart racing, the worried man's wide green eyes scanned the destroyed room, landing on the unconscious mystery cop, the empty holding cell with a broken door, and two awkward teenagers staring blankly back at him, oddly untouched by the chaos.
Deafening alarm finally shutting off, I speechlessly stared at the completely astonished man, but as the sheriff opened his mouth to speak, his overly energetic son blurted out with a high-pitched voice, fingers pointed at the still knocked out hunter: "Ugh, he did it!"
Sheriff Stilinski questioned Stiles and me for 30 minutes, only to then lecture us another hour for being, once again, somewhere that we knew we shouldn't. Needless to say, by the time we got back home, we were exhausted.
Dragging our tired bodies up the porch steps, we said goodnight to an equally drained, but mostly vexed Mr. Stilinski, but when we heard his bedroom door close and the slow, even breaths of his restful sleep, did Stiles and I finally feel safe enough to talk about this evening's events.
"Well that went surprisingly well," Stiles sighed, plopping down on his bed, rubbing his tired eyes.
Glancing back at him from the collection of movies that I was skimming, I raised my brows and responded dryly: "That, in your book, is going well?"
Pulling out my movie for the night, I turned back around as Stilinski responded thoughtfully: "No one died or got seriously hurt and Isaac got away with Derek… which I'm still not sure whether that's necessarily a good thing… but I'll take it," he listed off, but once his caramel eyes landed on the zombie flic in my hands, the dorky teen asked: "That's what you wanna watch before bed?"
"We both know I'm not gonna get much sleep tonight," I stated grimly before glancing down at the extremely gory photo on the DVD case and shrugging lazily: "Besides, I like horror movies."
"Why?" he asked, shaking his head, as if unable to fathom my admiration of that particular genre. "We got enough monsters running around Beacon Hills lately, don't you think?"
Taking his very truthful words into consideration, I then nodded and offered with crooked grin: "Yeah, well we only got werewolves… which are kinda boring compared to flesh-eating zombies."
Expression one of awe over how casual I was, Stiles muttered: "You're twisted."
"I prefer the term unique," I quipped lightly, yawning as I asked: "Wanna watch?"
Making a face, Stilinski quickly glanced at the clock which read '2:35 am'.
"I don't know, I'm kind of tired," he must have caught my yawn, for soon he was stretching his arms out and letting out the loudest one I had ever heard.
"Oh please, like you're ever tired," I cocked my head to the side, arms crossed.
"Not all of us are nocturnal, Charlie," he complained, only to scoldingly add: "And some of us want to do well in Marson's quiz tomorrow."
Truth be told, I didn't want to be alone tonight. Beyond feeling extremely sick all day and still feeling the effects of the full moon, I had that familiar, foreboding sensation creeping up on me, as if me body could sense another hallucination approaching.
I felt drained and the air hung heavy around me, and since I couldn't drink or smoke or take any pills, I needed a distraction.
Deciding not to take 'no' for an answer, I walked over to the grumpy kid's TV and popped the movie in anyway.
Ignoring his grumbling words of protest, I hit play and sassily said: "Quit whining. Just take an extra Adderall in the morning and you'll be fine. Anyway, you can think of this as a review for the history quiz."
Taking the remote and fast-forwarding through the previews, I retreated back to his bed and shooed at him to scoot over whilst he stated in exasperation: "This doesn't even relate to World War II."
Sitting in his large, comfy bed next to him, I innocently replied: "There's Nazis in this."
"Yeah," Stiles voice was a bit strained, "Zombie Nazis…"
Unable to hide how entertaining I found his irritated reactions, a playful grin flashed across my face as I leaned back against the massive sea of pillows, made myself comfortable, and jovially responded: "So it's a loose interpretation… but it's still relevant."
Merely staring at me with the most frustrated of expressions, I only smiled that much brighter, and soon Stilinski let out a deep, surrendering sigh while he fell back against the pillows beside me.
"Fine," he muttered, yanking the remote from my hands, "but we're watching the previews then."
Letting out a light laugh, I simply shook my head and asked: "Don't tell me you're one of those people…"
"I don't care what anyone says," he stated somewhat defensively, "the trailers are the best part."
Taking in how absolutely serious the dork was, I only giggled even more, causing him to cross his arms and grumble at me to stop.
Trying to stifle my laughs, I only lasted a moment or two before loud snorts came bursting out of my mouth, and as he looked down at my hysterical face, even Stiles had to chuckle.
And after a few minutes of laughter, we finally settling down a bit and watched the various horror movie previews in all their bloody glory.
Soon enough, silence fell, but then Stilinski slowly ventured: "So how long's it been?"
Confused, I furrowed my brows and asked: "What?"
"Since you slept," he clarified, eyes fixated on the TV rather than my currently uneasy face, which I very much appreciated.
"I don't know," I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I, ugh, I guess since formal."
Caramel eyes widening, Stiles looked down at me with both dismay and concern, which only made me look away and shift in discomfort.
"That was over a week ago," he stated the obvious.
"It's not a big deal," I tried to brush it off, not ready to talk about those horrific breaks from reality that had been plaguing me since that night. "It's just from the withdrawal, but it should get better soon."
I could my own heartbeat quicken with those words, but I just hoped that my lie sounded more convincing to his ears than my own.
Truth be told, I had zero clue what was happening to me.
Sure I was chalking it up to my withdrawal, but for a werewolf, my symptoms should have been lessening by now, and although I could feel the severity of those physical ailments easing up, the delusions were only getting worse.
Still intently watching me, an unconvinced Stilinski remained quiet, causing me to fill the uncomfortable silence with another reassuring fib: "Seriously, the full moon's over tonight and things should get back to normal."
However with the mention of the full moon, Stiles and I immediately sat up, eyes wide and hearts now racing. Looking at one another in panic, I knew that we both had realized that we never checked our phones to see how Scott had made out.
Feeling absolutely horrible, for I had personally seen just how much McCall was struggling earlier that evening, and as we both whipped out our cells at the exact same time, we were met with an unsettling sight indeed.
4 missed calls from Allison. 5 from Scott with one voicemail, and as Stiles and I glanced at one another in trepidation, the boy with flushed cheeks shakily pressed 'play'.
Stomach in knots, I mentally prayed to God that they were okay, and once we heard both teenagers' voices, my companion and I let out sighs of relief.
However, that alleviation only lasted for a split second for what we heard immediately introduced us to something even more worrisome.
"Stiles! Are you with Charlie? You both aren't answering us, but when you get this, you need to call us back. Something broke in the house," Scott's voice was panicked, and I could hear Allison's quick breaths as she piped up: "It wasn't a werewolf. We… we don't know what it was, but it was big."
Holding our breath, Stiles and I could only stare at one another anxiously as Scott quickly added: "I scared it away, but it took off and we don't know where it went, so if you two are okay, you need to call us back, man. We think its…"
Then, the voicemail cut off, and although we knew that our friends were alive and relatively well, this report of some new unknown beast in Beacon Hills was enough to put us on edge.
And as we sat there, silently processing the troubling message we had just heard, Stiles finally dialed his best friend's number and turned to me, grimly stating: "Only werewolves, huh?"
