When Ellie woke up the Sunday after her birthday, she was excited to see Scott. Not only had he given her the best day ever, she'd opened the gift to find a beautiful silver necklace with an infinity symbol. She and Allison had spent almost two hours on the Saturday gushing about it, and then the taller girl told her about how she'd gotten word from Stiles. Apparently, Mr Stilinski was hit by a car, just like Ellie almost was, and he could've been seriously injured. The girls made sure to make a mental note to ask Stiles how the sheriff was doing.

Her boyfriend was supposed to sneak in through her window at six pm (they'd already texted each other about it), after the rest of her family headed out to some restaurant. It was an entire elaborate scheme that she and Allison had thought up: Ellie was to pretend she was ill the entire day, stay home while everyone else was gone and then make sure none of the neighbours see Scott.

He appeared on time, grinning, and he opened his mouth to speak, probably to say 'hi' or any greeting, but she pounced on him before he could. He managed a strangled, "Sorry. Phone broke," before moving his lips with hers. They kissed feverishly, and she could feel him smiling against her mouth as she forced down onto the bed under her. It was weird, they'd only been going out for around three months, but she'd made out with him more times than she had with her year-long boyfriend, Samuel.

His hands went to the hem of her shirt, brushing against her bare skin, and she whispered, "Take it off."

Scott pulled back slightly, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she rolled him around so he was on top of her and laughed, "But you first,"

Ellie grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, yanked it over his head and grinned, fingers sliding underneath his belt to tug him closer. Scott pushed the straps of her bra down her arms before slipping his hands under her top to unclasp it. She threw the lacy bundle across the room and let him roll them over again so she was sat straddling him. Ellie smirked, taking hold of the hem of her tank top and preparing to remove it. The look on his face was that of a sort of lustful wonder, like he couldn't believe he was getting this far with a girl.

But then the front door slammed downstairs and sheer panic fluttered through them both. "Oh, crap." She gasped, jumping off of him to lock the door firmly, hands going to her hair. "Uh…" she trailed off, but Scott was already standing in front of her, hands moving to her hips and tugging her closer. They kissed again, moving back so she pressed against the wall. She went to take off her top again, but a knock sounded at the door.

Scott stumbled back, eyes wide, and she pushed him into the wardrobe, wrapping her arms around her chest, painfully aware that her bra was half way across the rom.

"Um, just a…" she kicked his shirt under the bed, "Just a second."

Ellie unlocked the door and let it swing open, a forced smile on her face. "Hey," her Aunt Kate said. She nodded in return. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she walked back into the room, "Just doing homework, sending some emails,"

"Emailing Scott?" Kate teased.

Ellie scoffed, "No. Emailing Amelia from New York about how my gun-nut uncle decided to shoot an innocent mountain lion in the school parking lot."

"And that wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're grounded," Aunt Kate let her eyes flick over to her niece, smiling, "And that you can't see Scott?"

"I think you have me confused with one of those pathetic girls whose world stops spinning for a guy," Ellie said through pursed lips.

Kate cocked her head to the side, "But…"

"But, my world has definitely stopped spinning now that I'm banned from seeing my boyfriend," she sniffed, "It also doesn't stop me from being that teen that hate the authority figure and wishes he was dead."

"Now you're starting to sound like a normal, angry teenager," the older woman complimented.

"I surpassed normal when my parents died," Ellie shrugged.

Kate shifted slightly on her feet, not noticing when her nieces head swung in the direction of the closet, "What are you working on, then? Need any help?"

"History project," the brunette said tightly, "And I wanted to be left alone, actually. Concentration issues, you know the drill."

"Come on," Kate pressed, "What kind of history project?"

"I have to come up with a report that has some relevance to my own family history," Ellie frowned, "I have no idea about my dad's side, but I've been looking up Argent things for a while. There isn't much."

"Specific to your family?" the taller woman inquired, leaning closer to the computer screen.

"Why?" Ellie turned to glance at her aunt, "Do you have any ideas?"

"Type this is," she ordered, grabbing the mouse, "La Bête du Gevaudan."

"The beast of Gevaudan." Ellie translated, "French? What is this?"

Kate answered, "An old French legend that, believe it or not, has something to do with your family."

Looking over the article on the computer screen, Ellie read, "In 1766, in the province of Lazar, La Bête killed over a hundred people."

"Mysterious animal attacks just like a certain town called Beacon Hills,"

The brunette peered closer in interest, "So, what was it? The animal?"

"Nobody knows for sure," the older woman said matter-of-factly, "But I can tell you one thing: it definitely wasn't a mountain lion. What does it look like to you?"

"It looks like…" she paused, "It looks like a wolf."

Kate smiled and excused herself, leaving Ellie to her homework and planning on telling Allison all about the beast for her report, too.

Scott left the wardrobe, a worried dent in between his eyebrow. "Um, I guess I should be going then."

Ellie hopped up, kissing him gently on the lips before nodding. "Yeah," she smiled, "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

He went to the window, sliding down onto the roof and dropping down. She waved goodbye to him through the window and went back to the computer, intent on learning all she could about the beast of Gevaudan.

Scott didn't want to stay away from Ellie. Actually, he wanted to be as close to her as physically possible, preferably with no clothes on, but as long as he was with her everything would be good. Perfect, even.

Stiles was mad at him for saving Ellie but not his dad, Derek was refusing to tell him what a spiral meant in the Werewolf Urban Dictionary, and the alpha was hell bent on making him join his pack. He couldn't keep this up, his grades were slipping, he was barely talking to his mother anymore… things were out of control.

Control, that was what he needed. He needed to be able to control his abilities, his emotions. And to get control, he needed to listen to Derek. And Derek told him to stay away from Ellie, so, to ultimately be with her in the long run, he would have to ignore her. Or at least try to.

"Stay away from Ellie," he told himself, "Stay away from Ellie."

He went to walk up a set of stairs, deciding on taking the long way to his lesson, but then Ellie walked down them, not seeing him, and talking to Allison. She was giggling, a smile on her face that in any other circumstances would've made him weak at the knees. Scott spun around, walking back down with his face set in determination.

"Stay away from Ellie," he repeated, "Stay away from Ellie."

Luck seemed to not be on his side today, because the first classroom he walked past was one that Jackson was swaggering his way out of.

"Stay away from Jackson," he amended, "Stay away from Jackson."

He hurried along, only to come face to face with Lydia, who gave him a large smile and said, "Hey, Scott."

Ignoring the strawberry blonde, he turned his back to her and groaned, "Oh, come on!"

When he, eventually, got to his classroom, the first person he saw was Stiles, who was slouched in a chair and scowling. Their eyes met for a moment, before the paler boy looked pointedly away. Scott sighed, moving with the rest of the students herding into the room to sit behind him.

"Still not talking to me?" he asked, staring at the back of Stiles' head. He didn't answer. "Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? It's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big?" Stiles said nothing, but from the way his posture stiffened, Scott guessed the line of questioning was upsetting him. "You know I feel really bad about it, right? Okay, what if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and… that I went to Derek for help?"

"If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him." Stiles said grudgingly, "But obviously I'm not talking to you." The bell went, and it was barely a minute before he spun around and asked, "What did he say?"

Scott didn't have much time to explain as the lesson continued, but he managed, barely, leaving the pair stumbling out of the classroom with Stiles stating, "W-he wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry."

"Yeah," Scott nodded, glad to have his best friend helping him through everything.

"Okay," Stiles gestured wildly with his hands, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that you try to kill someone." He paused, "And that 'someone' is usually me."

"I know," the shorter boy agreed, "That's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"How's he going to teach you to do that?" Stiles asked, swerving around a group of girls heading in the other direction. Hopelessness clawed at Scott's insides as he shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I don't think he does either."

"Okay," Stiles sighed, lolling his head around in annoyance, "When are you going to see him again?"

"He told me not to talk about it," Scott evaded the question, avoiding eye contact, "Just act normal and get through the day."

The paler boy stretched out his arm, stopping his friend from walking any further, "When?"

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic," the wolf answered, "After work."

"After work," Stiles echoed, "Alright, well, that gives me until the end of the school day, then."

Scott asked confusedly, "To do what?"

"To teach you myself."

At lunch that day, Ellie, Lydia and Allison were sat on their usual lunch table. Lydia only had a salad, but Ellie and Allison were sharing a plate piled high with fries and chicken nuggets (the cousin's had seen the food and started salivating). In front of the brunette's, there was an old book their aunt had given them for their history projects.

"The what of who?"

Allison had been unsuccessfully trying to tell Lydia all about their family history, but the strawberry blonde was disinterested. Ellie herself, though intrigued, didn't share the same fascination with the tale as her cousin did. Honestly, she was more concerned about why the beast was doing it in the first place. If it was instinct to kill, then it couldn't really be held accountable, could it?

"The beast of Gevaudan," Allison answered immediately, barely noticing when Ellie grabbed a chicken nugget between her fingers and stuffed into her mouth in one go, moaning at the taste. "Listen: a quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the land in South Dordoin areas of France during year 1764 to 1767. La bête killed over a hundred people becoming so infamous, that the King Louis 15th sent one of his best hunters to ty and kill it."

"Boring," Lydia commented, making Ellie frown and snatch the book away from Allison

She cleared her throat, preparing to read, "Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan."

"Hmm," Lydia's head cocked to the side, "Still boring."

"Crypto zoologists believe it could've been a sub-species of hoofed predator," Ellie continued, "possibly the… the... I don't know what that word is."

"Slipping into a coma bored," the strawberry blonde said, stealing a nugget from her friends' plate and taking a bite.

Allison took the hardback back, scowling, "While others believe it was a sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster," She continued.

"Does any of this have anything to do with your family?" Lydia inquired, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"This," Allison answered, "It is believed that la bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature. His name was Argent."

"Your ancestors killed a big wolf," Lydia rolled her eyes, "So what?"

"No just a big wolf," Ellie said defensively, "Take a look at this picture. What does that look like to you?" She pulled the book from her cousin and flipped to the bookmarked page, giving her friend a clear view of what the beast was supposed to look like.

For a second, Lydia sat staring at the picture, face horror-struck and eyes wide. Allison called her name a few times, but only when she was practically yelling it did the strawberry blonde snap out of the trance and say, "It looks like a big wolf." She gracefully stood, "See you in history," she said, then she was walking out of the cafeteria. But not before stealing yet another nugget.

The cousins examined the book for a few moments longer, eating and discussing, before movement caught Ellie's eyes. Scott was almost running out of the room, face tight and gaze shifting around anxiously. "Scott?" she called, but he didn't respond. Briefly, she told Allison to save the rest of their lunch, before she followed her boyfriend. "Scott?!"

He slipped into the boy's toilets before she could reach him, and she stared at the door for a second. She wanted to talk to him; she hadn't had the chance all day. It seemed as if he was avoiding her, which didn't make any sense because literally the day before he'd been in her bedroom kissing her. What could she have possibly done? Maybe he was just busy with his history project, too? Yeah, that had to be it.

After lunch was a free period for Scott and Stiles (and Ellie, but they managed to avoid her pretty well) so they headed out to the lacrosse field. Stiles had this glint in his eye that made the werewolf nervous, staring at the back of the boy's head as he walked in front of him. He was carrying a bag and a lacrosse stick, with this extra pep in his step that usually wasn't there.

"Now…" Stiles pulled something out of the duffel and shoved it into the other boy's chest. "Put this on."

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asked curiously, staring at the contraption as he grabbed it from the outstretched hand.

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed, "I burrowed it."

Scott's eyebrows rose in disbelief, "Stole it." He corrected.

"Temporarily misappropriated." Stiles allowed, "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. You're going to wear it for the rest of the day." He held up a mobile.

"Isn't that coach's phone?"

"That I stole," Stiles agreed, nodding and not looking the slightest bit guilty.

"Why?"

"Right, well your heart rate goes up when you go wolf," the paler boy began to explain, "Right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Ellie, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

Scott looked at him, impressed, before smiling widely. "Like the Incredible Hulk," he pointed out.

"Kind of like the Incredible Hulk," Stiles said, though Scott got the impression he was only humouring him.

"I'm like the Incredible Hulk," Scott said childishly, which made his best friend groan and wave his arms around.

Stiles ordered, "Just shut up and put the strap on."

A little while later, Scott's hands were duct-taped behind his back, Stiles dragging the bag away from hi and across the field. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to open my free period," he noted, but the paler boy ignored him.

"Alright," he said, getting into position and taking a ball from the duffel bag, "Ready?"

"No." Scott said, but the word fell on deaf ears.

"Remember," Stiles instructed, "Don't get angry." He opened the app on coach's phone, ignoring Scott's complaints.

Without warning, Stiles straightened himself and lobbed a ball at Scott. He may be a werewolf, and Stiles may not have been the best at lacrosse, but being pelted mercilessly and continuously with lacrosse balls was painful. The next hit his chin so hard it threatened to straighten his jaw, and he muttered, "Okay, that one kind of hurt." More than kind of.

"Quiet. Remember, you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, alright? About staying calm." The taller boy reminded him, preparing another ball.

"Stay calm," Scott murmured to himself, grunting when he was hit again, "Staying calm. Staying totally calm, there's no balls flying at my fa-" he broke off, moaning at sudden harsh ache in his shoulder.

This continued for a while, Scott shouting curses and profanities, before Scott fell to his knees, growling. He ripped the binding off of his hands, crouching on all fours, breathing heavily. He could feel his eyes glowing, fingers and jaw tingling.

Distantly, he could hear voices, they sounded feminine, and then it just… stopped. Hi heart rate fell, his face returned to normal. It was like he never even lost control.

"Scott," he heard Stiles say, "You started to change."

"From anger," Scott told him, "But it was more than that. The angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So, it is anger, then?" the paler boy probed, "Derek's right?"

"I can't be around Ellie," he realised miserably.

Stiles scoffed, "Just because she makes you happy?"

"No," Scott denied, "Because she makes me weak."

After, Scott and Stiles were in the locker room. They had to return all of the lacrosse gear and the coach's phone before he noticed it was missing. "So you stay away from her for a few days," Stiles was trying to reassure Scott, "You can do that."

"But is it a few days," Scott said nervously, "Or is it forever?"

"You know this whole 'women make you weak' thing is a little too Spartan warrior for me," Stiles stated, leaning against one of the lockers to face his friend, "It's probably just a part of the learning process."

"Yeah, but you've seen Derek," he complained, "I mean, the guy's totally alone. What if I can, like, never be around her again?"

"Well," Stiles chirped, "If you're not dead, that could be a good thing."

He turned away from him, muttering an angsty, "I'd rather be dead."

"You're not going to end up like Derek," the human said with finality, tone implying just how ridiculous he thought his best friend was being.

But he didn't understand how it felt for Scott. He was a werewolf, he had trouble dealing with his aggression in case he accidently killed someone on the field, or just in general, and now he had to ignore his girlfriend. He didn't want to ignore Ellie, Ellie was his life now. He cared about her so much, and he wanted to be with her, but…

"We'll figure it out," Stiles assured him. Scott muttered out a reply, "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Something smells terrible in here anyway," Scott complained.

"Really?" Stiles mocked, "In a boys' locker room? That doesn't make any sense at all."

"No," Scott shook his head, nose wrinkling, "It's like something's rotting or dying."

Ellie was still working on her report, sprawled in front of her locker with books spread around her and a notebook on her lap. It was harder than she thought it would be, but with a story as interesting as hers, the project was overall quite simple. Allison had taken the book after lunch, but Ellie was munching from a bag of the leftover fries and nuggets, so she managed to make do. She'd just have to go over everything that night, adding things in.

"What are you reading?" she heard someone say, and she jumped theatrically. She glanced up, seeing Jackson, but he looked odd. His face was pale, with dark rings around his eyes and a clammy sort of sheen to his forehead. Not only that, though, because he was smiling, and Jackson never smiled. He smirked, sure, but she thought smiling was a little too emotional for him.

Jack just continued to grin, sliding down the lockers to sit next to her and regarding the book with interest.

"Oh, hey," Ellie greeted, careful to be sure that the confusion wasn't seeping into her voice. She didn't want to be rude, after all. "Just stuff for a history project. Did you have a free period?"

"No," he shook his head, "I just don't like sitting through chem."

She giggled, "That's understandable, Harris is a tyrant. Not that I don't fully understand your need to spend time in my presence, but did you need something?"

"Actually, um, yeah," Jackson smiled again, "I wanted to talk. I realise that I have been a jerk to you."

"No, you haven't-"

He carried on, ignoring her, "And especially Scott, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm serious."

Ellie took a deep breath, nodding, and seeming unsure, "Okay," she allowed, "I believe you're being serious, and if you want to turn over a new leaf, then that's all good. I'm really pleased for you, but I don't believe you're being sincere."

"Do you know what it's like to be the best player on the team?" Jack asked, "To be the star? To have every single person at the game screaming your name? And then some kid, some kid comes along and everyone starts looking at him instead of you. Do you know what that feels like?"

"No, I don't," she replied softly.

"Well, it feels like something's been…" he paused, "It feels likes something's been stolen from you. And then you start to feel like you'd do anything, anything in the world, to get it back."

"Haven't you ever learned that there's no I in TEAM?" she joked, leaning closer to him.

He smirked slightly, "Yeah, but there is a ME."

For a moment, they were both silent, and then Ellie and Jackson broke into laughter, like two real friends would, and she knew that there was hope for him yet.

"You must really hate me," he said when they'd stopped.

"No," she denied, "I don't hate you. You're one of the only friends I have here."

"Are you sure?" he wondered, "Because I'm not a bad guy. I mean, yeah, I make stupid mistakes a lot, but I'm not bad. I really like you and Scott. I really like you both, and I want you guys to like me. I want to get to know you guys better."

"Well, I want to get to know you better, too," Ellie smiled widely, "You're my best friend's boyfriend, we need to get used to each other. And I'm sure that Scott will be willing to give you a try, too."

"Okay," he grinned, "So, what are you reading?"

She spent the rest of the free period telling Jackson about the Beast of Gevaudan.

It was econ, and Scott was still reeling. His mood was sour as he dragged himself into the class, and then he saw Ellie. She was flushed from what seemed to be laughing, and Jackson was at the door. He watched as she turned and gave him a wave, grinning.

"Stiles," he muttered, "Sit behind me!"

Stiles rushed to the spot, but he was beaten by a suddenly frowning Ellie. "Hey," she said as he turned toward her, "I haven't seen you all day."

"Uh, I-yeah," he coughed awkwardly, "I've been super busy."

"When are you going to get your phone fixed?" she inquired, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, "I feel totally disconnected from you. It's almost like you've been eluding me."

"W-No, I haven't- why would I-" Scott cleared his throat, floundering under her suspicious gaze and feeling so, so guilty that he really was avoiding her (he was fairly certain that that was what 'eluding' meant). "Uh, I'm getting my phone fixed soon. Really soon, don't worry."

"That's good." Ellie nodded, smiling, "I changed lab partners, by the way. Jackson came with me last period to see Harris and he let me change."

Scott, after working very hard to throw his jealousy to the back of his mind, asked obliviously, "To who?"

She gave him a look of disbelief, giggling quietly and leaning forward. "To you, idiot," she told him, "I was thinking I could bring your grade up, although I do have ulterior motives: this way I have an excuse to give my uncle when I bring you home to study."

He let out a quiet 'oh' of acknowledgment, emotions swirling so fast in his eyes she wasn't sure how to read them.

"Is that a problem?" she asked anxiously, "Because when I consulted Jack for a male's opinion, he said it would be cool."

"Yeah, yeah," Scott's lips flattened into a thin line, "Jackson obviously has all the answers."

She rolled her eyes, "Come to my place tonight, okay? Eight thirty?"

Scott only had time to nod before coach called the class to attention, yelling, "Let's settle down!" and leaving Ellie to wonder if Scott really didn't like her as much as she thought he did. Up until today, everything had been going perfectly. They'd spent hours talking on her birthday, texted endlessly over the weekend and then got to almost second base the day before. What was wrong now?

"Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading," Finstock said to the class, clear grey eyes examining each of them in turn like amoebas under a microscope. A few people put their hands up, including Ellie, but the teacher just crunched up his face, "Greenberg, put your hand down, everybody knows you did the reading. How about… McCall?"

Scott looked like a deer in headlights. "What?"

"The reading," Coach instructed.

"Last night's reading?"

Finstock narrowed his eyes, "Uh, no, how about, uh, the reading of the Gettysburg address?"

Scott stared at him in bewilderment, "What?"

"That's sarcasm," the older man said drolly, "You familiar with the term 'sarcasm', McCall?"

The werewolf glanced behind him at Stiles, scoffing. "Very," he informed coach, ignoring the way his best friend tilted his head and smiled proudly.

"Did you do the reading or not?" Coach asked.

"Um," he fiddled with the economics book in front of him, "I think I forgot."

"Nice work, McCall," Finstock said scornfully, "It's not like you're averaging a D in the class. Come on, buddy, you know I can't keep you on the team if you have a D!" Scott nodded. "How about you summarise the previous night's reading? No? How about the, uh, the night before that? How about you summarise anything you've ever read?! In your entire life! Uh, no? A blog? How about, uh, how about the back of a cereal box? Uh, no, how about the, uh, the adults only warning from your favourite website you visit every night? Anything? Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation! You just blew it for everybody, thanks! Next practise, you can start with suicide runs."

Ellie could practically feel Scott's distress, so she hesitantly reached forward and entwined their fingers. His breathing regulated and he slumped back into his chair, squeezing her hand in thanks.

After class, Stiles and Scott walked out together. The first thing the paler boy said was, "It's her," in a very calm, matter-of-fact tone.

Scott looked at him in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"It's Ellie," Stiles told him, "Remember when you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right, about protecting her?"

"Okay."

"Do you remember the night of the first lacrosse game?" he continued, "How you said you heard a voice out on the field?"

"Yeah, I did," Scott confirmed, still at a loss on how this meant anything.

"So, that's what brought you back so you could score," Stiles said, "And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her. At least not like how you were trying to kill me. Ellie brings you back, is what I'm saying."

"No, no, no," Scott denied quickly, "Because literally every time I'm kissing her, or touching her-"

"No!" the human waved his arms, almost hitting someone in the face in the process, "That's not the same! When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex…"

Scott tuned his friend's voice out, the use of the word ringing images into his mind of some not-so-PG-circumstances.

"You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?" he distantly heard his friend ask. He nodded mutely. "That's fine. Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I don't think she makes you weak, I think she actually gives you control. She's kind of like an anchor."

"You mean because I love her?" Scott concluded unthinkingly. Oh, wait, what? Had he just said that. Did he love her? Yes, he did love her. Being away from her was like his own personal hell, and being around her filled him with this almost painful warm feeling that he never wanted to go away. He was in love with Ellie Argent, and, he realised suddenly, he had been for a while. Was this too fast? He'd only known her since September, after all. Did that matter? Did she love him? Oh, God, what if she didn't love him back?! What if him ignoring her all day was causing some unfixable damage?!

"Exactly," Stiles said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. It sure as hell was a big deal!

"Did I just say that?"

"Yes, you just said that," Stiles said exasperatedly.

"I love her," Scott said. The words felt amazing coming from his mouth.

The paler boy gave him a big smile, "That's great, now moving on-"

"No, no, no," Scott interrupted, beaming, "Really. I'm totally in love with her, like, completely. I love her. I love Ellie Argent."

"And that's beautiful," Stiles said wryly, "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet can we figure this out please? Because you obviously can't be around her all the time."

"Yeah," Scott tried to wipe the smile off of his face, but he couldn't. If anything it just grew some more, ending up so wide it threatened to split his face in two and made a dull ache spring up in his cheeks, "Sorry." He wasn't really all that sorry. So, what do I do?"

"I don't know," Stiles said, "Yet." He spun in a few circles, and the happy feeling in Scott's belly started to give away to the nervousness about what his best friend had planned.

"Oh, no," he sighed, "You're getting an idea, aren't you?

"Yeah."

"Is this idea going to get me in trouble?"

"Maybe."

"Is this idea going to cause me physical pain?"

"Yes, definitely. Come on."

Ellie had left economics grinning. She'd calmed Scott down, which had made her already good mood from her budding friendship with Jackson sky rocket.

Allison and Lydia met her at her locker, the strawberry blonde scrutinising her. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I can probably land you a date to the winter formal, if you want?"

Ah, the winter formal. She'd heard about it almost nonstop from the girls in her classes, every one of them gushing about dresses and dates. Ellie had hoped that Scott would ask her, but it was like he'd completely forgotten about the dance. Obviously she was going, but she wasn't going to let her boyfriend get away with assuming that she would go with him, even if he didn't ask. Dating or not, she was still going to follow dance etiquette.

"You don't gave to land me a date, Lyd," she rolled her eyes, "I'll just drop a few hints at Scott about it."

"'Drop a few hints', eh?" Allison teased, "You're about as subtle as a gun."

"All I'm saying," Lydia continued, "Is that I can find you someone better. You're way out of Scott's league, no matter how much popularity he's gained by becoming quasi-decent at lacrosse."

"I don't want to go with some other guy, though," Ellie shook her head, "I want to go with Scott."

"But why?" the strawberry blonde whined.

"Because I'm in love with him, obviously," she said unthinkingly.

She froze. Did she just say that? Admit that she loved Scott? She'd been juggling the idea for a while, yeah, but she wasn't sure. She was sure now. Ellie was absolutely, completely, irrevocably in love with her boyfriend, Scott McCall. The boy who'd been actively ignoring her all day and whose affections were still being questioned in the furthest corners of her mind. Oh, what if he didn't feel the same? What if he only wanted a quick fling, a wam, bam, thank you, ma'am, then he was out and bragging to all of his friends. Was he just using her? Did he reciprocate even half of the feelings she had for him?

"Oh my God," Allison whispered, staring at her cousin. "You just-"

"Did I just-"

"Yeah, you-"

"I- I love Scott."

"Wow."

"Wow."

"Damn, does this mean I can't set you up?"

Allison and Ellie both smacked Lydia upside the head for the mere suggestion.

After a ridiculously long detention (given to Scott and Stiles by Harris, who apparently thinks getting the living crap beaten out of you is worth punishment), Scott eventually made it to work. It was dark, and he wondered if this would be the defining moment where he got fired by the world's most laid back boss.

However, when he walked into the familiar building, he didn't expect to find Deaton bound to a chair in a crazy kinky way, with Derek's face inches from his. The only way Scott knew it was a hostile display, and not one of an odd sexual nature was the look of open aggression on Derek's face, like a man at the end of his tether. All of the alpha stuff must really have been getting to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, stomping into the room in what was supposed to be a threatening manner.

"Scott!" Deaton shouted desperately, "Get out of here!"

Derek dropped the chair; lips pulling back from his teeth punched the older man hard enough to knock him out.

"Stop!" Scott cried, "Stop it!"

"Conscious he can keep himself from healing," Derek explained menacingly, "Unconscious he can't."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Scott demanded, "What the hell is wrong with you? What are you talking about?!"

"You want to know what the spiral means, Scott? It's our sign for a vendetta, for revenge, it means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied!" the older werewolf's eyes were dark, tone cold and sharp.

"You think he's the alpha?" Scott screeched in disbelief.

Derek tilted his head, "We're about to find out."

A clawed hand reached out to slice the veterinarian's face, but Scott, now fully wolfed out (Wow, he thought, my sideburns are so impressive), growled menacingly, catching his arm before he could. He pulled it back as Derek walked away from him, eyes narrowed. "Hit him again," Scott said daringly, "And then you'll see me get angry." You won't like me when I'm angry.

The older werewolf allowed Scott to start patching up his bruised and bloody boss, but, if the pacing he was doing (he was wearing a hole in the floor) was any indication, Derek was still agitated.

"Do you have a plan?" he hissed, suddenly close to the teenager.

"Just…" Scott's face tightened, "Give me an hour."

"And then what?"

"Meet me at the school. In the parking lot."

The first person he called was Stiles, because, a, it was his best friend, and, b, he was the only person who knew about the supernatural that had a car. Well, the only person he knew who had a car, period. Unless, of course, you count Lydia and Jackson. The Mazda wasn't Ellie's, technically.

"This is a terrible idea," Stiles noted.

"I know."

"But we're still going to do it?"

"Can you think of something better?"

"Well, personally I'm a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away."

"Just make sure we can get inside."

Then Derek's Camaro pulled up as Stiles yanked a set of pliers out of the trunk of his jeep.

"Where's my boss?" Scott demanded.

Derek shrugged, "He's in the back."

The two teenagers peeked inside, catching sight of Deaton, tied up, unconscious, with duct tape over his mouth.

"Oh," Stiles said sarcastically, "He looks comfortable."

The teens started to walk up to the school, with Derek calling after them, "What are you doing?"

"You said I was linked with the alpha." Scott said over his shoulder, "I'm going to see if you're right."

"Okay," Stiles started, "What are you going to do if the alpha doesn't show up?"

They'd just entered the school office, Scott standing in front of the Tannoy speaker system, ready to spread the howl through the entire school.

"I don't know."

"And what are you going to do if he does show up?"

"I don't know."

"Good plan."

"Right," Scott took a deep breath, "You said that a wolf howls to signal it's position to the rest of the pack."

"Right," Stiles nodded, "But if you bring him here, does that make you part of his pack?"

"I hope not."

"Yeah, me too." Stiles handed his friend the speaker, "Right, all you."

Scott cleared his throat before letting out the best howl he could. It ended up as more of a mewling sound, like a cat dying.

"Was that okay?" he asked Stiles, who was looking at him in slight shame, "I mean, that was a howl, right?"

"Yeah, technically."

"Well, what did it sound like to you?"

"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott."

"What do I do?!" Scott panicked, "How am I supposed to do this?!"

Stiles came up behind him, rubbing his shoulders in the way people do to the champion before a wrestling match. "Hey, you're calling the alpha. Alright, be a man." He ordered, "Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf. Be a werewolf."

Scott closed his eyes, focussing on nothing but the wolf inside of him. With a deep, cleansing breath, he let it out in one long, strong, unbroken howl that ripped its way out of his mouth like Stiles ripping into curly fries.

They walked back outside, feeling very pleased with themselves. Apparently, Derek didn't share their joy, because as soon as he caught sight of them, he demanded, "What the hell was that?! What, are you trying to attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry," Scott said, not feeling particularly sorry, "I didn't know it was going to be that loud."

"Yeah, it was loud," Stiles enthused, "And it was awesome!"

"Shut up."

"Don't be such a sour wolf."

Scott glanced behind him, noticing that Deaton was no longer in the backseat. "What did you do with him?"

"I didn't do anything."

Then Derek jerked, blood bubbling from his mouth, and the teens ran from the alpha, who stood, large and growling, behind the now unconscious body of the older werewolf.