Quick Blurb - Thank you to those who have come across the story and enjoy it. While I'm just the writer, the one who asked me to write this is orionastro. Her is a brand new chapter for you.


Chapter 9

It was gray outside. It held an empty threat of rain. Stiles sat on the edge of his bed, dressed like it was any other day. His shirt was wrinkled from being crumpled up on the floor for the last week, but it was whatever.

He wasn't going to practice today. And, he wasn't going to think about homework or werewolves or his pathetic love for Lydia Martin. Today was different. Today there was only one person he was thinking about.

"Mom," he said under his breath. He missed her so much.

Though breakfast did seem tempting, he decided he'd eat later. He didn't feel hungry at all right now. He was going to visit her later on in the afternoon. For now, he sat there and felt cold. The sad emptiness and longing was stronger today more than it had ever been.

He breathed in and out steadily. He was going to be brave today. He was going to be brave even though he felt utterly weak and reduced to his seven-year-old self.

He got up and went downstairs. Dad was already gone. He had his own way with dealing with today. He would go visit her tonight on his way home from his shift probably.

Stiles grabbed his car keys and drove around town, circling the cemetery until he finally stopped in its gravelly excuse for a parking lot. For a few minutes, he just sat in the car until the engine was cold. His hands rested on the steering wheel, his thumbs tapping in no particular rhythm.

"Right," he sighed.

It was always this difficult. Always a struggle. It was even hard to breathe. But, he was always able to make it.

He got out of the car, took a deep breath, and walked along the gravel walkway into the cemetery. The place was morbid and cold. Stiles shivered. Mom wasn't too far in. Once at the second crossroad, he turned left. His hands were in his pockets as far as they'd go.

He stopped in front of the polished grey stone. Its entirety was clean and there were fresh flowers, white lilies, at the base of the tombstone. Stiles crouched and let his hands dangle over his knees.

"Hey mom," he said quietly, "it's been a while. I'm sorry."

He talked. There was a lot to cover. It had been a full year since the last visit. Stiles talked about Scott's weirdness, Lydia (she was a big subject), but surprisingly, he talked about Erica the most. He talked about the little things he noticed about her, and then he talked about the obvious things. He talked in complete circles about her to the point that he was frustrated. He talked about being suddenly dragged into being an emissary. He still wasn't quite sure what that entailed. Then he went back to the subject of Erica.

"She's overly aggressive. Takes serious charge. It's very intimidating. I think the whole lacrosse team is afraid of her, except for Scott." He droned on and on, not realizing that it was getting dark.

The two single lamps in the cemetery lit and sent a timid glow over the cemetery. For a while, Stiles sat in silence.

"I miss you," he said finally. "I wish I knew what you had to say about all of this because I think I'm losing my mind." He shook his head. "The only thing I should have to worry about is getting my first girlfriend or finding a date to homecoming. But I got lucky. I get to worry if I'm going to be alive tomorrow and the next day…and the next."

A rustling sound startled the teen. She shot up to his feet and his ears perked, honing in on whatever was out there. He couldn't see a thing. The lamp light was poor and his eyesight wasn't werewolf-powerful.

A low growl came from behind. Stiles spun around. He didn't have any way of defending himself from whatever was out there. Erica and the others were tied up for the night. They wouldn't dare be out here to hurt him…or to help him. He heard the growl again. It was close.

Stiles backed carefully to the nearest lamp. It was at least a hundred feet away. Whatever was out there was on the prowl, and he was the prey. A shadowed figure moved in the corner of his eye. He thought about shouting, but what if it was an animal? Stiles groaned.

It was an animal, but that wasn't all…

"Scott?" Stiles said in a short breath, taken aback.

The shadow stepped into the pale orange light and Stiles stumbled back, his back slamming back into the metal pole of the lamp at seeing his best friend. Scott's face was shaped into something completely animalistic, a werewolf. Brett was right.

Stiles released a shutter of a breath. It was him. It was Scott and in a way not. His ears pointed, and his face was morphed into that of an animal. The curvatures were wolf-like and his hair was a little longer. Stiles's eyebrows furrowed as it all sank in.

"You lied." He said low.

Scott stared at him through glowing gold eyes and emitted a low growl. Both boys remained glued, frozen.

"You lied!" Stiles shouted angrily.

Scott flinched at the words and snarled in response. Stiles shook his head furiously. This wasn't his friend right now. This was a monster who was staring at him like he was a chew toy. Scott's upper lip twitched, flashing his canines and his hands flexed with claws extending past his fingertips.

Scott edged toward him the way a predator would its prey. He bared his teeth.

"You lied!" Stiles shouted again. "You told me you were okay. This isn't okay, Scott! You're supposed to be my best friend! You're supposed to trust me!"

Scott released a roar. That's when Stiles realized it. Scott didn't have any control right now. He wasn't going to be able to stop himself from hurting people, hurting Stiles. Running wasn't going to do any good. Stiles was as good as dead. He gulped and it was like swallowing a rock.

Another growl pierced through the night. Stiles's heart pounded even harder. Great, he thought to himself, now I'm going to be between two wolves fighting for dinner. Awesome.

As Scott advanced, and fast, on Stiles, the second mysterious one out there blurred past Stiles and shoved Scott. He rolled backwards on the grass and came up crouched on his hands and feet. The one crouched in front of Stiles was Isaac. The Senior didn't look back at him. He and Scott growled at each other, completely displeased with each other's presence.

"Isaac, don't. He's a lying jackass, but I don't think he's himself," Stiles said quickly.

Isaac tensed, but didn't move from the protective stance he took.

"Isaac?"

Isaac snarled.

Scott's eyes were suddenly not gold anymore and he looked at Isaac in utter shock, but not as much as when he looked up at Stiles who was still shaking.

"Stiles," he said with a lisp. He took a step back. And, then another. "I—"

"You lied," Stiles gritted out in a harsh whisper.

Scott's eyes were wide with bewilderment and he looked back down at Isaac who'd relaxed and stood; his eyes were no longer gold either. He'd gained enough control back of himself. He glanced back at Stiles with a look that Stiles could only assume was shame?

"Stiles, I didn't want—there wasn't any—I-"

Stiles shook his head and shoved past Isaac.

"I asked you! I gave you every chance to tell me! I thought—I defended! I said that you wouldn't betray me like that because you trust me."

"And this?" Scott shot back quickly. It was a punch thrown in response and it hurt like hell. Scott nodded at Isaac who growled low.

Stiles couldn't reply at first. Scott's reveal as a werewolf was still sinking in. Scott was on the opposite side of this encounter. He was the guy Stiles was angry at and…afraid of. He didn't recognize him. Then there was Isaac and seeing him here not locked up made Stiles feel even more uneasy. This was his first full moon. How was he in such control?

Stiles breathed in, sucking in air like vacuum after realizing he hadn't been breathing. He shook his head.

"How could I tell you? You were so involved in your new life, which I wasn't exactly invited to," Stiles said referring to Scott's new spot on the lacrosse team and Allison. It came out surprisingly calm and monotone. In a way, those words had been building up. He just hadn't thought about it until now. Funny how issues you never knew about surface.

"Stiles—" Scott tried. It came out a gravelly and past all of the aggressive features, Stiles could tell he was trying to reach out. But Stiles shook his head. A sappy, apologetic look wasn't going to do it this time.

"I don't even know you. You could be the killer! Did you kill those people?" Stiles exclaimed.

Scott roared, offended by the accusation. Stiles jumped, moving to hide behind the lamp pole. Isaac tensed.

"Leave," Isaac growled out. His hands shook in clenched fists. Blood dripped off the back of them.

Scott looked at Stiles desperately, but Stiles just stared at the glistening, dew grass sparkling in the dim glow of orange light.

There was nothing but silence for a long time. Stiles didn't count the minutes. Isaac started to walk and Stiles quickly followed, not wanting to see if there would be anymore confrontations tonight. It wasn't much safer with Isaac however. Full moon and all. Thinking about it, Stiles would rather take his chances with Isaac anyway. The guy was more built than him-werewolf muscles. Plus, he got the strange feeling that he wouldn't try to break every bone in his body.

"Hey, Isaac?" Stiles stopped. Isaac stopped a couple steps ahead of him and turned. His forehead was still creased deeply. "Thanks."

"Yeah…sure."

Stiles could tell that Isaac wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"About the flowers. You did that, right?"

Isaac shrugged, purposefully keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"You didn't have to."

"I work here. It's my job…" Isaac said bluntly. Stiles nodded. Awkward sappy moment over. Isaac sighed. "She was a nice woman. She and my mom were friends."

Stiles didn't ask him why he didn't lock himself up. He didn't ask why he was out in the cemetery. He said nothing. That was enough for now.