Allison

"Are you sure it's safe?" Stiles woke up to the whispering.

"Totally," another person replied. "He's on his way. Let's go."

"What about our scent?" the first person asked.

"Just go, I'll take care of that."

Stiles heard footsteps hurrying away and then a hissing sound near him and then further and further away. He opened his eyes groggily. He just had the time to took in his surroundings; an empty steel room, a chair he was bound to in the middle of it; before a sudden stinging forced him to close his eyes.

He yelled, muffled through the gag and trashed in a desperate attempt to free himself. Something tickled his nose and he sneezed harshly, causing warm tears to spill on his cheeks. Stiles tried not to panic, think methodically and find a way out from this situation. But he didn't know where he was, who had him or what they wanted. And someone was supposed to be coming. A friend or a foe? Was it a trap? Were they after his pack?

He fought for freedom for about fifteen minutes when he heard another footsteps. He froze, listening in and fighting the sneezes.

"Fucking hell!" a voice exclaimed and sneezed five times. "I will fucking kill them!"

Stiles opened his watering eyes to a blurry figure of Derek moving toward him.

"Try not to breathe too much in here," the Alpha advised, untying the boy. "They used pepper spray so I can't smell anything." The werewolf sneezed a few times again, pulling Stiles with him to the exit.

They burst out into fresh air coughing. Their faces were wet with tears and from running noses.

"Fuck," Stiles wheezed, bending in half and moving to wipe his face. Somewhere near them a car screeched to a halt.

"Don't," Derek stopped him. "You'll just make it worse." There was a brief pause. From the bushes a ways further into the woods the Alpha picked up a quiet swearing and the sound of retreating hurriedly footsteps. "Argent is here with your dad. He'll give you something that will help in a moment. Hold on."

Soon both, the teenager and the werewolf, were sitting against the car. They cleaned the pepper with special wipes Chris Argent provided and eased the burn with cold compressions on their faces.

"Now," the Sheriff demanded. "What the hell?"

"Allison," Derek replied. "I heard her and Isaac just as you arrived."

"What?!" the hunter started in outrage.

The werewolf held up a hand, "Calm down, I'm not accusing her of anything."

The Sheriff groaned and sighed deeply, putting his face into his palms, "Is that a part of the game?"

Derek grimaced, "Apparently."

"What game?" Argent demanded to know.

The Sheriff took the hunter to the side and explained to him everything.

Stiles leaned on Derek's shoulder and slept off the effects of pepper spray.

Allison got yelled at within an inch of her life by her father.

Derek and Stiles gave her points for the most reckless and traumatizing idea respectively.

"So," Peter drawled, pulling his wallet out. "I want to place a bet on my idea."

"If you want in, you'll be at the end of the line," Boyd stated. "No exchanges, no getting out of order, no sabotaging other ideas."

"I can live with that," Peter nodded. "So, how much on what?"

Boyd grinned.