A/N: There's a little note about the season 3 story at the end A/N, if you guys wouldn't mind checking it out. Thanks!
Also, once again, I haven't done any proper proofreading. A little, but not loads. Sorry for any spelling mistakes and whatever. I'm tired.
I don't own Teen Wolf. Shock Horror.
"Uh, hi, Ms McCall!" I shouted across the parking lot of the police station, trying to grab her attention as she placed her hand on the handle of the big front doors. I rushed forwards from my car, sliding in between her and the door. "What are you doing here?"
"The sheriff asked me to come in, he wants me to identify someone who was at the hospital last week," she explained, and I nodded. Matt. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" I asked, and why was I not expecting that question?
"You," Ms McCall repeated, raising her eyebrows, telling me she knew I was being weird. "It's almost three am."
"Yes, yes it is," I agreed, nodding my head slowly and struggling to come up with an excuse. Any excuse. "I, uh... I like to, uh, appreciate the town's architecture," I decided, smiling and nodding. "And it looks particularly beautiful when lit up by the full moon, don't you think?"
She narrowed her eyes at me, humming. "Sure," she said slowly, taking a step around me to push on the door again. I took a step too, still in her way. She raised one eyebrow at me in question, and I smiled. "What are you doing, Amber?"
"Hmm?"
"I have to go inside."
"No, you don't."
"Amber, I'm a witness. I spoke to a murder suspect. If you don't let me in, you're impeding an ongoing investigation."
"Rats," I blurted, out, closing my eyes a second after I said it. Rats? That's the best I can come up with? "You can't go in there, because of rats."
Ms McCall sighed, smiling sadly at me. "Amber, listen to me," she said, and I nodded, ready to hear whatever she was going to tell me, whatever lecture, if it meant keeping her out of that building. Only, instead of speaking, she darted around me and barged into the station. My mouth fell open, both shocked and, for some reason, impressed that she had outwitted me, before I followed.
"Ms McCall, please," I called as she waited at the front desk. "Please, just-"
"Mom?"
We both turned around at the sound of Scott's voice, and saw him appearing from the hallway behind the desk. The look on his face wasn't too comforting.
"Scott, you scared me," his mom breathed, moving around the desk to him. I followed close behind. "Where is every..."
"Mom, just do what he says," Scott pleaded as she stared in horrified silence at the gun in Matt's hand, pointed at the back of Scott's head. I had to keep a hand on the desk next to me just to keep me upright. Creepy camera guy was going to kill us all. "He promised he wouldn't hurt you."
Matt smiled. "He's right," he said, moments before he dropped his hand to Scott's waist and fired a shot.
I don't really know what happened next, because all I could focus on the white hot pain in my side. I looked down and gently pressed my hand to where I felt the pain, trying to figure out what the hell happened, and I winced at the burn. I pulled my hand away quickly, and it was only then I noticed it was covered in blood. How the...
Scott.
I looked at Scott, my eyes wide, and saw him on the floor. clutching at the same spot I had been, the blood easily showing through his green shirt. My top was a dark blue, the blood coming from my own torso just a darker patch on the fabric. When he looked up at me, I could tell he knew. Whether he could smell the blood coming from me, or if he just figured it out, after what had happened after the rave, he knew it had affected me too.
"Get back!" Matt screamed at Ms McCall, who had instantly tried to rush to her son's side.
"Mom, Mom, stop," Scott begged, holding up a hand and telling her to stay back. She looked at her son, lying on the floor, in pain and bleeding, and slowly took another few steps.
"I said get back," Matt said quietly, angrily, and I reached out an arm to pull her back slightly.
"Scott," she said, not taking her eyes off Matt and the gun pointed at her.
"Matt, listen to me," I heard someone call down the hall. The sheriff.
"Shut- shut up!" Matt shouted, the gun in his hand wobbling. "Everybody shut the hell up! Now, McCall, get up, or I shoot her next!"
Scott got up, still clinging to his side, and Matt herded the three of us down the hall. Scott kept shooting me worried glances over his shoulder, but Matt would just scream at him to turn back around before he could say anything. We turned another corner and entered the cell room, where just a couple of weeks ago, Stiles and I had almost died at the hands of both hunter and werewolf alike. This room was not one for happy experiences.
The sheriff looked up when we walked into the room, handcuffed to the wall, and inssantly his eyes fell to the blood seeping through Scott's shirt. "Scott...Amber, what are you doing here?" The sheriff asked as soon as he saw me, Matt shoving Scott and I down next to the Sheriff while he locked Ms McCall in one of the cells.
"Uh..." I started, looking at Scott. I'm sure, had he not been wounded and in a lot of pain, he still wouldn't have been much help. "Scott said he'd call me, once y'all knew what was going on with Matt, but-" I felt a twinge, a really painful twinge, in my stomach, and had to cut off to grit my teeth so I didn't cry out. I hadn't actually been shot, but I was bleeding and had a gaping wound in my side. That looked awfully suspicious. "When I woke up and he still hadn't called, I thought I'd come down and see how it was going."
"Bet you wish you'd stayed in bed now," the sheriff said, a tiny, bitter huff of a laugh tacked onto the end of his comment. I laughed back, putting a hand against the blood to try to stem it. That's what you do in these situations, right? Even if I had stayed in bed, I would've woken up to an unexplained gunshot wound in my abdomen and a lot of blood.
"Somehow, Sheriff, I think I would have ended up here anyway," I muttered bitterly.
"Please, he needs to see a doctor," Ms McCall begged from behind the bars, and Matt just smirked.
"You think so?" I heard him ask her, and, it may have just been me, but it sounded an awful lot like Matt knew about Scott, that he would heal.
Wait, Scott would heal. Scott was bleeding now, sure, but he should heal, eventually. The question was, would I heal too? Or just keep bleeding, because Scott's the only one of the two of us with supernatural healing capabilities?
"Hey, hey, you listen to me!" The sheriff shouted, pointing a finger at Matt.
"It's alright," Scott promised, nodding at his mom. "I'm okay."
"No, honey, you're not okay."
"It doesn't hurt, mom."
"That's the adrenaline, okay?" She turned to Matt, desperate. "Please, let me... let me just take a look at him, okay? I mean, I can stop the bleeding."
Matt turned to Scott, a smirk on his face. "They have no idea, do they?"
"Please," Ms McCall begged. "Let me just take a quick look. I-"
"Shut- shut up!" Matt screamed, turning back to Ms McCall, who flinched. I did too, if I'm honest. "Lady, if you keep talking, I'm gonna put the next bullet through his head."
"Okay," Ms McCall said, quietly. "Okay."
Matt turned back to us then, staring at Scott. "Back to the front, McCall," he ordered, before turning to frown at me. "How much do you weigh, Wilson?" he asked me, looking me up and down. Gross.
I scoffed. "You should never ask a lady about her weight, Matt." I sniffed. "It's impolite."
Matt smirked again, slowly wandering over to me. "I'm sure McCall can carry you anyway; he's pretty strong, right?"
"Can't I just walk?" I suggested, and Matt tipped his head at me as he stopped right in front of me, all faux-sympathy.
"Not when you're unconscious, you can't," he said. And that's the last thing I remember.
The first thought that came to my head when I came to was ow.
The next was fucker.
"I'm gonna kill him," I muttered to myself, trying to pull myself up into a sitting position on the couch I had woken up on.
"Yeah, get in line," I heard someone respond. I knew that voice.
"Stiles?" I twisted my head around quickly, pausing for a second to shut my eyes tight when the world began to spin, and then managed to focus on the two very still figures on the floor. "Kanima?" I asked, and they both hummed.
"I didn't even see it until it was too late," Derek explained grouchily. "And Stiles was just being a jackass."
"That sounds about right," I murmured, to Stiles' indignant huff. "One day, that smart mouth of yours is going to get you killed."
"Is that why you came here?" Stiles asked me, staring at the ceiling. "To throw insults at me?"
"No, I dreamt that you were all going to die, so I came to the rescue," I smiled sarcastically, before huffing.
"Ahh, so it was another one of those pesky visions of yours." Stiles smiled to himself. "One day, their going to get you killed," he mocked.
"Funny," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"Why do I smell blood?" Derek asked suddenly, and I cringed.
"It's probably the claws you have digging into your thigh," Stiles answered, and Derek sighed.
"No, Stiles, blood other than mine. It smells different. It smells... Amber, are you bleeding?"
"Oh my God, dude, you do not ask a girl that," Stiles groaned, scrunching up his face.
"Scott got shot," I cut in, before the conversation could get any more uncomfortable. They were both silent for a second, both of them wondering why the hell I was telling them that when they were asking about me, until it finally sank in.
"Shit," Stiles muttered. "You need to get out of here, you need a hospital."
"Oh, okay," I said, nodding my head. "So I'll just march past the angry psychopath with a gun and the green lizard with claws and paralytic toxins and straight out the front door, shall I?"
"Well you can't just sit here and wait to bleed out," Stiles argued.
"She might be okay," Derek said, wincing as he, ew, pushed his claws further into his thigh. Why was he even doing that? "I can't be sure, because I've never seen this kind of Alpha-Emissary relationship before, nor have I ever met a real witch, but if you get hurt with Scott, you might heal with him too."
"That's what I was hoping," I admitted, gently touching a hand to the wound and, nope, still bleeding. "What are you doing, anyway, Derek?"
"What, no Mr Hale anymore?" Stiles muttered, and I rolled my eyes.
"I'm trying to kick-start the healing process," he said, wincing again. "It should push out the toxins faster."
"Is it working?" Stiles asked him.
"I think so. I can move my toes."
Stiles huffed. "Dude, I can move my toes."
And then all the lights went out.
"What the hell..." Stiles muttered quietly, and I found myself thinking the same thing. "Was that you?"
"Stiles, I can barely light a candle without matches," I pointed out as an alarm started blaring. "Do you really think I could manage to cut the power with only the force of my mind?"
"Good point," he agreed. Then we heard glass shattering from down the hall, and what sounded eerily similar to gunfire.
"It's the Argents," Derek said. "Stiles, can you move anything other than your toes?"
"I can move the very, very tips of my fingers, but somehow I don't think that's going to be very helpful."
"Amber," Derek started, but I cut him off.
"There's no way in hell I'll be able to carry him, not like this," I said, sliding down from the couch to the floor beside them. "What do we do?"
Scott, the blessed boy, turned up just at that very moment, sprinting into the room.
"Take Stiles," Derek shouted at him, and Scott hesitated for a second. "Go!" Scott nodded, heaving Stiles up and wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist, dragging him out. He turned back to me when I didn't follow.
"Amber, c'mon," he urged, looking up and down the hall.
"But, Derek..."
"I'm fine," Derek promised. "It's wearing off, just go with them."
I was about to argue for a second, but Derek simply nodded, his eyes wide and expectant, so I jumped up and followed Scott down the dark and smokey hall, Stiles' feet dragging limply behind him. We reached a doorway, and just as I went to slam it behind us, Jackson was there, green and covered in scales and smirking through the glass. He pushed at the door, sliding a hand into the gap so I couldn't shut it.
"Scott," I shouted, not daring to look behind me to check where he was. "Scott, I can't shut the door."
"Okay, just uh... give me a second," he called back, and I kept my hands where they were on the glass of the small window to stop it from springing back open. Jackson's smirk just grew with every millimetre that he pushed the door open further, like he wasn't even trying. He had super-strength, he could shove that door open and kill me before I even had the chance to blink; he was playing with me.
"We don't have a second," I whined quietly, pushing all of my weight against the door. My hands were splayed across the almost clear barrier of glass that kept Jackson and I apart, and, looking at them, a memory hit me; Scott's house, Isaac approaching me with murder in his eyes, before flying across the hallway in the opposite direction. I did that. I did that.
My eyes flicked back up to Jackson, who was still smiling evilly at me. He bared his teeth – his kanima teeth – and I took that moment to squeeze my eyes shut tight, to see it, to see Jackson falling away from me, the same way Isaac had. And then I pulled my hands away from the glass, just a few inches, and I felt it, that buzz, the pulse running through my arms. I slammed my palms back against the glass, putting all my strength behind it and crying out at the effort, and I watched as the glass radiated with pulse, rippling away from where my hands had met the glass, less than a second before Jackson was pushed away, hitting the wall on the other side of the hall and crumpling in a heap on the floor. I only allowed myself a second of victory before I spun around and darted off after Scott, shutting and locking every other door behind me as I went.
"Where's Jackson?" Scott asked me as I finally made it to the interrogation room they were in.
"Hopefully still on the floor," I wished, though I doubted it. "I totally forgot that I was a witch and that I have magical powers for a second there." Scott smiled at me, nodding.
"Well, I'm glad you remembered," he said, before gesturing back to Stiles. "I need to find Derek. You stay here with Stiles, and stay quiet." I nodded once, and he ran back out the way we came. I locked the door behind him.
"Are you healing yet?" Stiles asked me, and I turned back to Stiles with my eyes wide. I had somehow managed to forget about the bullet-less bullet hole in my side until just now. I lifted my top, and there was blood everywhere, smeared all along my stomach, from my belly button to my hip, but no wound. I laughed. Scott had healed, and so had I. "Hey, Amber?" Stiles said, drawing my attention back to him. "I need a favour."
"That doesn't sound too good," I commented, leaning against the table. He managed, just, to lift his head to look at me properly.
"I need to find my dad."
"Stiles, you can barely move."
"Which is where you come in," he explained, smiling hopefully. "I can move my arms, I think, and my head, and my feet, but my legs aren't quite right yet. And if you're healed..."
"Stiles," I started, but he cut me off.
"Can we please just try?" Stiles begged, and I don't think I'd ever heard him use that tone of voice in front of me before. He sounded desperate. "I need to make sure he's okay." I shut my eyes, trying my hardest to tell him no, that we were safer here, away from the wolves and the Argents and the giant killer lizards, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. If it were my daddy in there, I'd move mountains to get to him.
I nodded, finally, and Stiles breathed a giant sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, very quietly, and I moved to wrap on of his arms around my shoulders and haul him up from the seat.
"Just remember that you owe me one, Stilinski."
I, somehow, don't ask me how, managed to mostly drag Stiles along the hallways, both of us on the lookout for anything with claws or guns, until we finally started approaching the room where we last saw the sheriff. I sped up a little, aching to put Stiles down, until Matt came out of the shadows.
I had never stopped moving that fast in my life.
He didn't see us, his attention totally drawn to the grunting coming from the room, and we followed, just in time to see the sheriff come free from the wall. He and Ms McCall cheered, until Mat came up behind him and brought the gun in his hand down across the back of his hand. I pushed Stiles back, my eyes closing against the sight of the sheriff crumpling to the ground, and I heard Stiles' heavy breathing shake. I could make out Ms McCall pleading with Matt to let her out, to see to Scott. And then I heard a growl.
"Okay," I whispered, nodding to myself. "Stiles, I'm gonna put you in this room." I nodded to the door a few feet away, just as something crashed loudly. "I'm gonna leave you in there, and I'm gonna check on your dad, okay?"
"Amber-"
"He's fine, Stiles," I promised him, paying no attention to all of the noise coming from the room beside us. "Your dad's made it through much worse than being pistol-whipped by a sixteen year old, I'm sure. I just want to get him out of the way of whatever's happening in there, okay?" Stiles stared at me for a second, before he nodded, and we both pulled him along the hall until we made it to the door, and I pushed it open. It was an office, much like all the others in the station, and I dropped down onto the couch. "Just stay quiet, and I'll be right back."
"Don't do anything stupid," he told me, and I snorted.
"When do I ever?"
"You remember that time you had a psychic dream about things going terribly wrong here, and you thought it would be a good idea to come down and check it out for yourself?"
I pursed my lips, nodding. "You may have a point there."
"Yeah," Stiles breathed. "Don't do anything stupid."
I heard another crash, this one louder than the others, and nodded at Stiles. "I won't," I promised, before running past him and back out into the hall, making sure to shut the door tight behind me. I crept along the hall, peeking around the corner and seeing Derek struggling with the kanima, Ms McCall looking on, horrified at the sight. I could understand that. The sheriff was still on the floor in the middle of the room, out cold. I kept an eye on the fighting pair as I managed to slide further into the room undetected, running over to the sheriff and grabbing his arm, using every ounce of strength I had left to pull him closer to the bench, away from the violent fight.
"Amber," Ms McCall hissed at me, and I looked up from my efforts to see her crying slightly. "Where's Scott? Is he okay?"
I nodded. "He's fine, Ms McCall, I promise."
"He got shot, Amber," she argued, more tears streaming down her face.
"I know, I know it looked bad, but you have to trust me. He's absolutely fine."
She frowned at me, and I couldn't tell if it was because she didn't know why I was lying to her, or because she didn't know why I thought I genuinely believed what I was saying, but either way, I had work to do. I heaved the sheriff a little further off, backing him up against the wall and huffing, turning back to Ms McCall and being met with the face of the kanima.
"Oh, fuck," I breathed, seconds before the kanima screeched and flew away. It hit the wall on the other side of the room, and then Derek's there, chasing it down the hall and away from us.
"Scott," Ms McCall whimpered, and I turned to see Scott crouched in front of the cell his mom was in. "Scott, are you okay?" Scott looked up at me, his face fully wolfed-out, and then he turned to his mom. His mom, who stopped crying instantly, who backed away from her own son when he stood up, who started sobbing all over again as she took in her son's face. He looked away from her, and when he looked back at me, I could almost feel the grief, the shame. His own mom was terrified of him.
I stepped forward and grabbed his hand, giving him a quick smile and pulling him from the room, back to Stiles. By the time we got there, Stiles was flexing his legs while he sat on the couch, testing some of his weight on each one. His head shot up when the door opened.
"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes flicking between the two of us. I nodded.
"Derek chased the kanima off somewhere, I don't know." Then Stiles' eyes dropped to our hands, mine holding tightly onto his, and he frowned.
"Scott?" he asked, almost wary.
Scott cleared his throat, his face back to it's regular, less hairy, look. "I have to go. I have to find Matt." He dropped my hand then, and stormed back out into the hall. I shut the door behind him and wandered over to drop into the seat beside Stiles.
"His mom saw his face," I explained, not needing to be asked. "His werewolf face, and she freaked." I blew out a long, heavy breath, and my head fell against the back of the couch. "She's probably still crying."
"She cried?" Stiles asked, and I nodded, not moving my head from its spot. It was oddly therapeutic.
"Like she'd just found out someone had died."
The lacrosse championship game was a pretty big deal around here, so when I woke up Friday morning, I wasn't at all surprised to hear my dad singing downstairs. He wasn't even that big of a fan of lacrosse, but Beacon Hills was a small place, and as the big game approached, the excitement was catching. The whole town was buzzing, even the old man who owned the butchers that Daddy visited every week. It was nice; it gave the place a sense of community, and I took comfort in that, especially now.
While Daddy and I were back on speaking terms and had sorted through all our problems – that he knew about, that it – Scott and his mom had barely spoken since the night at the station, and no matter how much Stiles and I knew it was hurting him, there was nothing any of us could do to fix it. We just had to let it run its course, let her come to terms with it. She would, eventually. I hope.
It didn't help that Scott had spoken to Allison since that night either. None of us had. I didn't know what was going on with her, only that she had been her usual self at Lydia's party, only to disappear and turn up at the station with a crossbow and a vendetta with Derek, according to Scott. We didn't know anything else, didn't know what had caused the 180 in her attitude, but I didn't like it, and she wasn't answering my calls.
On a brighter note, I could light a candle with my mind all on my own now.
I was sat at my desk that afternoon, talking to an old Nashville friend, Jamie, when I got a call from Stiles.
"What's wrong?" I asked instead of saying hello, Poe lifting her head off my bed at the sound. While Stiles and I had somehow become friends, we still weren't the type of friends to call each other just to chat. Something was up.
"Okay, you're going to the game tonight, right?"
"Right," I answered with a nod, a proud smile on my face. "Josh is playing."
"I don't think either of those things is a good idea."
"What?" I asked, a frown on my face. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Scott spoke to Isaac today, and Jackson's playing tonight," Stiles explained, and the day instantly took a very bad turn. Tonight was not going to be pretty. "So unless you want your little brother on the field with a homicidal lizard, I suggest you guys stay home tonight."
"Okay, I see your point," I agreed, nodding to myself slowly. "But keeping him away from that game isn't going to be easy. Are you going?"
"I wasn't, and neither was Scott, but it made sense that we go in case anything happens."
"If you guys are going, I'm going."
"Amber-"
"No, I'm serious," I argued, putting my foot down. "I'd only end up there anyway, if the other night suggests anything. I ain't staying home and pretending everything's okay while you guys are playing lacrosse with Jackson and his tail."
"Don't be such a martyr," Stiles groaned, and I rolled my eyes.
"Hello pot, have you met kettle yet?" I said, and heard Stiles' answering scoff. "Listen, it ain't even that bad. I mean, Matt's dead, right? And sure, the kanima's deadly, but without a master, it'll only go after murderers, right?"
"You are correct in that logic, yes," Stiles agreed, a breathed a sigh of slight relief. Until Stiles continued talking. "However..."
"Oh, lord, I hate howevers."
"Scott had another visitor this morning," Stiles sighed.
"The kanima?"
"Yeah. And its new master, Gerard Argent."
I was quiet for a second, too busy trying to rid my head of all the terrible, terrible things that could happen now that Allison's grandfather had the kanima on his side. "The psycho with the broadsword now has Jackson doing all his dirty deeds?"
Stiles hummed, confirming. "Apparently, he's out for vengeance for Kate."
"Peter killed Kate, and he's dead."
"Yeah, apparently that isn't enough for him. I don't know what he's planning, but I don't think it means anything good for anyone with supernatural powers."
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you suggesting something?"
"Yeah, I'm suggesting that you stay out of the way," Stiles said. "As far as we know, he doesn't know about you yet, and I think it's best if we keep it that way."
"So what, I just hide out in my house until Gerard dies of old age?"
"Exactly," Stiles agreed, almost cheerfully. I snorted.
"Screw that," I decided. "There ain't no way in hell that an old man is keep me locked away in my house until I can move away to college. If you guys are going to this game, then so am I."
"Amber, c'mon."
"I'm serious, Stiles. We're a team, right?" I asked, and when I heard him sigh, I knew I'd said the right thing. "We're a pack."
Stiles grumbled under his breath for a second. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid."
"Since when do I ever do anything stupid?"
"Pretty sure we already had this conversation the other night. You seem to enjoy ignoring every warning your witchy brain gives you to save people and put your own life in danger in the process."
"Oh, careful, Stiles," I warned, grinning. "You really sound like you care what happens to me. People might think we're actually friends."
"And we certainly don't want that," Stiles agreed, before sighing heavily. "Listen, just… Just stay away from Jackson, and Gerard. No matter what you see, or hear, or foresee, just stay away, okay?"
"Okay, Stiles, I'll stay away," I promised. "The same goes for you, you know. You're just as fragile as I am."
"And that's where the benefit of constantly warming the bench comes in; I won't have to be on the pitch with Jackson tonight, and I might just survive."
"We're talking as though Gerard is going to make a move during the game. He ain't stupid enough to have Jackson kanima-out in front of that many people, surely?"
"You've met the Argents, right? One of them set a house filled with people on fire, one of them tried to poison Scott, and one of them cut a guy in half," Stiles pointed out. I tipped my head. "When it comes to that family, always plan for the worst case scenario."
"And worst case for tonight is…"
"Is Gerard has Jackson slaughter everyone at the game, probably." I huffed. "And given his track record, I don't think that would be too much of a stretch for him."
"Tonight sounds fun," I muttered, and Stiles scoffed his agreement.
"Alright, I gotta go, I'm at the school now, and I need to get changed and ready for Coach's annual Independence Day speech."
"Oh, lord, that's an annual thing?"
"Yeah, and with every year that passes, it doesn't get any less annoying."
Daddy and I wandered onto the field, my hands in my jeans pockets as my eyes swept over the players on the field and found Jackson. He wasn't moving, just staring at the ground, until Coach screamed in his face and startled him out of it. I caught his eye then, and he blinked, staring at me for an unnervingly long time. Then he turned around to face the other players already warming up, without so much as a smile, or even a glare. Just… nothing.
"Everything okay with you and Jackson?" Daddy asked, obviously noticing the strange greeting.
I turned to him, a tight smile on my face. "He's been a bit stressed out lately. Mid-terms, and everything." Daddy nodded, and I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't say anything else.
As we passed Stiles on the bench, Scott by his side for a change, I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at them. "I'm just gonna say hi," I informed Daddy, and he glanced over my shoulder and frowned at the pair. "Save me a seat?"
Daddy eyed Stiles and Scott for a second, probably confused as to when we even started hanging out, but shrugged. "Sure. Don't take too long, I think the game's starting soon." I nodded, smiling, and Daddy sent one last frown in their direction before turning around and heading up the bleachers. I sat down beside Stiles, frowning at Scott.
"Shouldn't you be warming up?" I asked him. "Why aren't you warming up?"
"Because I'm not playing," he explained, before dropping his head into his hands and groaning.
"What do you mean, you're not playing?"
"He means he's failing three classes," Stiles answered for Scott. "And Coach can't play him tonight."
"So you're telling me Jackson's playing tonight and our one chance at keeping him from doing something stupid and dangerous is on the bench?"
"That's exactly what we're telling you," Stiles muttered, his knee bouncing.
"Oh, lord, we're all gonna die."
"On the bright side," Stiles said, tilting his head. "You can die in peace, since it looks like you and your dad made up."
I winced a little. "You and your dad haven't?"
"Things are weird," Stiles answered, waving a hand around. "At least my dad hasn't just found out I'm a werewolf." We both turned to Scott, who just groaned some more. "Have you seen Lydia?" Stiles asked, turning back to me.
I shook my head. "Not since her party, when she drugged us and ditched. I've text her a couple times, and she said she's fine. I think she's coming tonight." I glanced over at Scott, how had finally lifted his head and sat back in his seat. "I'm not sure about Allison, though."
"It's gonna be bad, isn't it?" Stiles said, looking at Scott. "I mean, like, people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming kind of bad." I sighed, and bit my lip. Even without whatever foresight I had, I could see it. Tonight wasn't going to go well. I turned in my seat, watched Daddy laugh with the Sheriff about something from his seat behind him. It was nice, seeing him happy like that.
Scott sighed, and I turned back to see him staring holes into the grass in front of him. "Looks like it."
"I'm gonna put myself on parent duty," I said, standing up and wrapping my arms around me. "That way, if anything does go horribly, catastrophically wrong, y'all don't have to worry about them." They both nodded, grateful smiles on their faces. "Just be careful, both of you. Even if you ain't on the field, you ain't exactly out of the danger zone."
"We'll be fine," Scott promised, nodding his head. "Probably, anyway."
"Comforting, McCall," I responded, narrowing my eyes at him before turning around to join Daddy on the bleachers.
"Ah, you finally made it," Daddy joked as I sat down beside him. "What took you so long?"
"It's the championship game, Daddy," I said, smiling. "There's a lot of nerves flying around the place."
"How are they doing?" the sheriff asked me, turned in his seat to face us. "I mean, I know Stiles doesn't play, but he still gets worked up over these things."
"Oh, he's worked up, alright," I said, smiling awkwardly. I turned to nod at Stiles. "But I'm sure he'll… wait, what?" Why was Stiles leaving the bench?
The sheriff turned at my vague question, and we both watched as Stiles jogged onto the field, stick and helmet in hand.
"Oh, no," the Sheriff mumbled, his shoulders slumping. "Why is my son running out onto the field?"
"Because he's on the team?" Ms McCall suggested, from her seat next to the Sheriff.
"He is," the Sheriff said, realisation dawning on his face. He turned to me, his eyes wide, and I smiled excitedly. "He's on the team. He's… He's on the field." I giggled a little, holding a hand to my mouth to cover it, and turned to Daddy, a very confused look on his face as the Sheriff stood up and cheered. "My son is on the field!" I laughed as everyone around us turned to stare, and the Sheriff slowly sunk back into his seat. I swear I could hear him repeating it to himself every so often, the odd, aborted victory fist pump making an appearance with his words.
As the Sheriff continued to cheer on his son under his breath, Lydia caught my eye. She smiled at me as she climbed the steps and sat down beside me, nodding her head. I hadn't seen her in days, and she was definitely a sight for sore eyes.
"Hi," was all I said, smiling happily just to see her again.
"Hey," she greeted in return, folding her hands in her lap. "Stiles is playing?" I nodded.
"Where have you been?" I asked quietly, quiet enough that the parents shouldn't hear us.
"Figuring things out," she replied, nodding slightly. "I'm okay," she promised, smiling at me again. "I just needed some time to myself."
I nodded again, reaching out to lay a hand over hers. She grabbed it tightly, and the whistle blew, signalling the start of the game.
Lydia leant toward me, wincing. "How terrible is Stiles going to be?"
Very terrible, apparently.
For the third time that I'd managed to watch instead of hiding behind my hands, the ball landed in Stiles' net seconds before he was crushed by a member of the other team. He would definitely have some nasty bruises before the end of the game.
"He's just nervous," Lydia suggested, and I saw Ms McCall nod in front of us, agreeing. Praying. "There's plenty of time to turn it around."
I watched as the ball flew in Stiles direction, and I could see him lining up to catch it, only to be pelted in the head with it. The crowd groaned, and I glared at them all.
"He's trying," I murmured, mostly to myself. "That's what counts, right?"
"Catching the ball wouldn't hurt, though," I heard the Sheriff respond, groaning and dropping his head into his hands so he didn't have to watch anymore.
And then, nobody was even watching Stiles, because Isaac came onto the field and started flooring his own teammates. The change of pace was definitely a welcome one. At least no one hated Stiles the worst now.
"What the hell is he doing?" Daddy shouted, just as Isaac run at another player and ended up on the floor himself. I stood up from my seat, a hand over my mouth, as Scott ran out to check on him. He didn't move, from what I could see, and a stretcher was next to him in a second. I glanced over to Stiles, who was already looking up at me, and he shrugged as Ms McCall stood up and jogged down to the field, to Scott.
That's when Coach threw a helmet at Scott. Isaac was being carried off the field, and Scott was, apparently, being brought on to play.
"Oh, thank the lord," I muttered, nodding in Scott's direction for Stiles to see it too, and I think he had pretty much the same reaction. Finally, we had a shot in hell.
Or, so I thought.
I was wrong.
The game was still going terribly. I don't know what was up with Scott, whether it was Allison, or Jackson, or Gerard, but I think it's safe to say that he was on the floor more than Stiles.
And then he disappeared.
"Wait, where the hell is Scott?" I suddenly exclaimed after watching Stiles get pummelled. Again.
"What?" Daddy asked, not turning from the game. When I say game, I think it's pretty safe to assume he was keeping an eye on Josh. He was small, and quick, so had managed to avoid being attacked up until this point, but it was only a matter of time, I was sure.
"Scott's gone," I said, my eyes scanning the entire field, and, yep, he was nowhere to be found. "Yeah, that's just what we need right now. We have five minutes left, we're losing, and one of our best players, one of the few players in the entire team still standing, has disappeared."
"Maybe he went to check in that kid," Daddy suggested, shrugging. "The one who got stretchered off."
I shook my head. "Isaac's fine," I muttered. "Scott wouldn't leave, not unless it was an emergency."
"It might have been worse than it looked," Daddy said, a little distracted by the gruesome game. "Even the principal went in after him."
"What?" I asked, turning to Daddy. Gerard went in after Isaac? The guy who likes to cut werewolves in half followed a werewolf off the field? "Yeah, I think it's a lot worse than it looked."
"Amber," Lydia said quietly, reaching out to grab my hand and draw my attention. I looked at her, saw her staring out onto the field, and followed. There, stood alone in the middle of the field, stood Stiles, the ball at his feet. He was looking back and forth between the ball, the goal and the rest of the players, huddled together at the other end of the pitch. He scooped up the ball, watching the other players very carefully and started running.
"Oh, lord," I muttered, squeezing Lydia's hand as all the other players took notice of Stiles and started chasing him down the field. I'm pretty sure I could hear him screeching, and the Sheriff had his head in his hands again.
Stiles stopped several feet from the goals, and turned to see the mass of players rushing at him. Coach was screaming at him, and I now had my hands in my hair, willing him to just throw it.
"C'mon, Stiles," I muttered, groaning, and he still stood there, not moving. "Oh, lord, Stiles!" I screamed, finally getting to my feet and throwing my hands out to the side when he looked up at his name, asking him what the hell he was doing. "Shoot the goddamn ball!
He turned back to the goal, seemingly on autopilot, and threw his stick forward, the ball flying forward and hitting the back of the net.
Everyone was silent for a split second, thinking did that really just happen, until everyone started cheering, jumping up in their seats and screeching, the Sheriff louder than them all. Stiles looked around him, confused, his head whipping back and forth, before it finally hit him. All I heard then was "I scored a goal!" coming from the field.
From that point onwards, it was like it wasn't even Stiles playing anymore. He was sprinting down the field, side-stepping and darting around the other players, scoring goal after goal, and the cheering didn't dim for a second. The Sheriff was up and down in his seat, cheering on his son with the proudest smile I think I've ever seen anyone wear. Never tell Stiles this, but it was incredible.
And then everything changed.
It went dark, all the floodlights cutting out and submerging everyone in black. People started screaming, blood-curdling screams that surrounded me, and all I could think about was Jackson. There was nothing else; no pain, no fear. It wasn't like before, with the Sheriff, or Lydia, or the night Jackson was bit. I didn't feel a thing, it was just… cold. So very, very cold.
I blinked, and the lights were back. People were cheering, the rest of the Beacon Hills team were crowding around Stiles, jumping around at our one point lead with ten seconds left on the clock. But Jackson was elsewhere, marching away from the group with a purpose. I didn't know what was about to happen, but I knew it involved Jackson, and that was all I needed to know to have me pushing past a confused Lydia and sprinting down the bleachers, towards Jackson as the buzzer went and the crowd went crazy over our win.
The second my boot hit the grass, it happened; the world went dark and the cheering cut out, instantly replaced with confused and frightened mumbling. I didn't hear the screaming though; I didn't get the chance to, because before it started, something hit me.
A/N: Okay, this is where things get interesting, guys.
I know I've mentioned before that I wasn't sure if I wanted to stick to the canon plotline entirely, and I've had a couple comments on the subject, so I wanted to know what you guys thought about things changing a little.
Amber, obviously, was never in canon, and her appearance in the happenings of Beacon Hills might change things up a bit. Not dramatically, but enough to, perhaps, save certain lives or stop people from leaving to Europe, South America, etc. So I wanted to know if you guys would prefer canon, or a slight AU, where less people die and Amber's presence can change a few outcomes. Let me know in the comments/tumblr/polyvore or any other way you can think of letting me know, if you have a preference.
Thanks for the continued support, guys, and I'll see you next time.