Previously on were (you);
After their first typical Saturday back at BHHS—
o In order to protect her friends from a spy, Allison not only agrees to take on the task of spying on them but decides the only way to keep Scott truly safe is to breakup with him.
o Isaac heads to the McCall's to both recuperate and explore the growing connection with Scott that saved him from the brink of death- while Scott, in turn hesitates distressing truth that he believes his Alpha to be the psychopathic Monster plaguing the county.
o A terrible fight between Lydia and Stiles connect antidotes grown on the Argents' to torturous methods that are being conducted on Werewolves within the Lodge on the edge of their property.
o A prophetic nightmare revealed the deadly outcome of Ennis's missing Beta, Quint and Kate's involvement in his murder.
o Nightmares plaguing the town continue, especially Jackson, summoning up visions of Kira spurring him onward but to what end?
o The butchering Monster now revealed to be Scott's Alpha, continues to plague Beacon Hills not the least of which Jennifer Blake... who has been revealed to be the Kanima's Master.
o What other murderous secrets will Beacon Hills reveal?
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Track 01 - Paradise Circus by Massive Attack
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{Saturday; Late Night}
There weren't too many outright bars in Beacon Hills. The ones nearest the highway turned seedy, the few scattered around town were homely little pubs that didn't offer up more than neighborly pints and then there were the cop bars. Not exactly cop bars, more like the one café with a half-bar between the Sheriff's station and Memorial hospital that also served a handful of appetizers at all hours that the overnighters appreciated.
Semi-professionals stumbled in, sleep-deprived, looking for something better than what the Hospital/Sheriff's dept. break room offered. Nik didn't have to try very hard to fit in. In fact, she just tousled her hair and wore a deep V-neck tee. Even if eyes drifted toward her they would question more 'what was her phone-number' than 'why was she there'.
Now that the packs were screaming bloody war, it wasn't like Hunters were going to be reliable with their Intel if they thought it would be spurring it on. And it wasn't like Ennis would be levelheaded enough to go to for just about anything or Kali, trustworthy enough. Which put Deucalion in the position of sending in a thief and Nik was his best. Under such short notice, the old "seduce up an officer in the bar and steal their keys" routine was the easiest option. Nik didn't like it, it was beneath her level of expertise and the one with the most flaws but desperate times called for desperate measures. With her distinct flair of course.
Staking out the ideal place was far easier than figuring out the ideal mark. Deputy Parrish was out of the question. Parrish had access but he was Sheriff Stilinski's shadow which made him impossible to get a hold of. Deputy Clarke had obligations at home and made a ritual of home and work, home and work, and repeat. Nik would never be able to work that angle. Deputy Graeme had a boyfriend who worked at the hospital, which meant her attention was in all the wrong places. Which left the less than ideal Deputy Haigh. He was a wild card; his eagerness meant he paid too much at times but his vanity meant he bragged about every case he was involved in.
The Jukebox played classic rock and lingering, Nik pretended she pretend she couldn't make up her mind. Man, what a shame she had an extra selection left and no idea what to pick how fortunate Deputy Haigh came along to help her figure it out. First they talk about music, then they shared a few beers and criticized both local beers and local bands, and then Nik bragged about being able to out drink him by a mile, which of course she could. Haigh grew louder and prouder the more he drank and remembered the perfect song. Man, she would love this one. Wow, everything he said was so fascinating, Nik said as she leaned in close, her blue-green eyes intent on his dark-dark brown as she ran her hand down the Deputy's arm, wanting to hear another heroic story. Another round?
"I- I think I should get some air," Nik said, hopping of the bar stool with a wobble. "I guess I don't have the tolerance I thought I did."
Haigh looked concerned but foggy-eyed with inebriation.
"It's alright," she insisted, "pick another song." She swayed a little to the music. Her height made it seem airy and angelic, not drunken at all. "Get us another round while you're at it."
Outside Nik clutched at the doorframe and tilted into it with a giggle. Never having felt drunk before, she could only process slowly that the music felt delightful, that her head spun and felt light and that someone caught her off her guard. Caught off guard, things were worse to be vulnerable still in the middle of town and without back up. Of course, that had been a possibility but Nik hadn't realized that feeling drunk meant she wouldn't care as much as she probably should.
The Deputy too had been too drunk to keep his guard up and never notice when she stole his keys. After a second or two or three of fumbling Nik managed to unlock the car door and collapse into the driver's seat. She looked around in the dark and saw no one following her but her Werewolf senses were cut off from her and she couldn't feel out anything more than the gross belchy smell of beer and pretzel threatening to come back up. After figuring out how to turn on the siren, Nik plowed through the main street, and after sometimes swaying through the meridian she nearly made it the long drive back to Deucalion's house in the hills. Nearly.
Just after turning off the service road, when a motorcycle cut her off, Nik nearly spun out. But the familiar lines of Echo Lane called her home and she thought herself safe until that same motorcycle stood parked in the center of the lane, with two figures immobile on either side of it. Had Nik been sober she might have been able to navigate between or around them but her vision made them twin and blur. She hit the brakes violently and screeched tilting, rear wheels spinning out and into a ditch at the side of the road. After a few seconds to regain awareness, Nik trembled in shock and breathed in short breaths, regaining the wind that got knocked out of her. The two on the road came slowly toward her, climbing over the rocks and through branches. Nik touched her arm where it throbbed after being pinched between the door and the chair and marveled at the fact that she wasn't healing. Once Nik opened the door she felt both relief and a wash of new pain, so she kept her arm folded tight against her side. Despite the shadow and her blurred-ish vision she recognized the men coming toward her.
"Kali sent you? Really?" Nik said incredulously and limp clear of the vehicle. "I'm a thief, I'm not even a threat to her."
"Don't take offense," Santos answered without preamble. "It's a strategy thing." With his quick swing at her head she more fell under his blow then ducked. She stumbled to her knees, twisted at the waist and punched upward. She had aimed for his balls, missing that she uppercut him in the gut. He stumbled backward onto his ass ruining his smart suit.
"Deucalion has a thief. We need a thief," Huntington circled around the hood of the car, cutting off their graceless dance.
Nik spun around to face him and stood tall, even on her bad leg, while she kept her chin high and stated, "we're loyalists. I won't be turned or tortured."
"I know that, Nik," Santos said, his voice turning harsh, his claws coming out and grabbed her from behind. He dug his claws into both arms and she cried out in pain, jerking hard to the right away from the throbbing agony in her arm.
"In the end it's about numbers," Huntington added, "Kali would be satisfied knowing there is one less nuisance around." He yanked her forward by her good arm and pulled her along toward the motorcycle, climbing up to the edge road.
"That's a lie," she said, her mouth trembled from pain more than insecurity. "You're not that simple Huntington." Nik felt if she kept them talking her sobriety would return to her, but she had never felt intoxicated she could only work off of the things she'd seen from movies and play off of those stereotypes. She did know Huntington a little bit, more like got an impression off of him that he didn't like getting his answers the physical way. Santos however, she'd heard his reputation garbled through her friend Meyers' lips while his jaw was being reset after half of his face had to heal from fractures.
Santos shrugged, and reminded gruffly "We'd rather have you off the board." He marched along her right side, ensuring she would on the rocky ground.
"You won't kill me," Nik said low. She pried his hold from her arm and shoved off, tipping forward to nearly fall but caught her balance before her face hit the floor.
"How do you know that?" Santos scowled and pulled her upright by the jacket collar.
"It's why you sabotaged the jukebox," her words slurred and her steps slowed. "Some subsonic weapon, to do your dirty work then just kept your distance. You want to figure out what I know."
Huntington looked to Santos, silent questioning if they should interrogate her now or when they got her back to The Ponds. "You would say anything to stay alive."
"Which is it; taking me off the board or a numbers game?-" Grinning she swung around to test her theory. She watched them intently, too stubborn to be moved and waited for the first one to try and put another hand on her. "I would never betray my pack."
"Then what good are you to us?" Santos tsked and threw another wide right to get her off balance.
Nik ducked low not noticing Huntington circling under her guard and around her back yet again. This time she dropped faster under Santos' reach and followed through with her upper cut into his gut. She moved under his reached and came back with an elbow into his right side. As Santos tripped forward Nik came around behind him and used his momentum to throw him into Huntington. She kicked Huntington in the shins to ensure they both would fall to the ground giving her a running chance to make it back to the road and hopefully to the still running motorcycle.
As Nik made headway with her limp, Santos grabbed at her from behind, both arms wrapped like a vice pinning them to her sides. She screamed against the flood of pain, remembering again the agony of whatever ligament had been stretched out of place in her left arm, the shock of which threw back her head and smacked him flat in the nose. For good measure, Nik took the time to elbow Santos in the throat with her good arm.
As Nik turned back to the road she was met with Huntington's fist to the face, at a downward arch sending her skidding to her knees. Even at a block, the blunt blow of it sent her back a pace. She aimed for another gut shot and this time nailed him in the groin. It was shocking how often men left that area unguarded. Huntington didn't crumble, he did wobble backward for a few feet while she wobbled up onto hers. She towered over him and made the same arching blow downward to send him to the ground. His face had turned livid, colored with pain and fury and the growls she heard come off of him told her he would heal faster and come after her like a beast. Nik lifted a nearby stone high overhead and dropped it onto Huntington, knocking him out briefly.
If they were going to get all Wolfed out on her, she was going to have to beast out on them to survive. She turned to see if Santos had regained some ground and barely missed another punch to the face. Ducking under it she used the open advantage of stumbling forward and tried to elbow him in the head. When her misbalance pushed her too far, instead she went with kneeing him in the stomach. Santos pushed her weight back fully and threw her back far enough and fast enough she hit the side of the Deputy's car. Once again Nik had the wind knocked out of her and her back stung like she had been whipped. She slid down half in and out of the car, her eyes were squeezed closed but she could hear clearly when Santos swung the door back and slammed it closed on her bad leg. She fell further onto the ground clutching onto the driver's seat. With her lungs still unable to take in a breath, in too much pain to scream out. Nik opened her eyes in time to watch Santos loom over her with gleaming eyes as he swung the door toward her head.
"Stop!" Nik managed to cry out, while throwing her hands over her face. Desperately she gasped, "I know where Mars is!"
"Wait!" Huntington grabbed hold of Santos' arm. She remained trembling, curled into the crevice of the car door while Santos and Huntington communicated in silent glares. Finally, Huntington won out and stepped forward spreading the passage open. Nik slid further toward the ground, and she nearly came to lay flat on her back before she pulled her arms away from her face.
"What did you say?" asked Huntington, his usually boyish faced looked black and blue, carved with stone and blood all along right side from crown to collar bone. He spoke with carefully clenched teeth. "You know where Marsten is?"
"Yes," Nik answered crawling up on her back. Evidently her fight-or-flight instinct sped up her clear-headedness. She knew if she kept them talking long enough she might even heal enough to take them a second round. "He's being kept alive somewhere in Fairvale. For now."
"She's lying," Santos protested, wiping at his bloody nose. Nik grinned again, which was a mistake because it only made him advance.
"No. No!" she climbed to her feet, her good arm outstretched in earnest. "I'm a thief. Wouldn't it just be bad business ethics if all I sold were lies?"
Evidently this wasn't good enough. Even if Huntington believed her Santos wasn't satisfied with this answer and he yanked her forward, straight by Huntington and threw her to the pavement. "How long have you known?"
Nik groaned and rolled onto her back, she was met with a kicked to her side. She rolled over, staying on her stomach this time and tried to climb up onto her knees. "Since the first night," she mumbled over her pain. She was definitely healing a bit quicker, but the bruising on her ribs felt like he might have broken something. "That night, the Monster killed my... Mac. Mars was supposed to meet her to make a trade for a rare weapon. When she was late to check in I just figured her car crapped out again. But the next morning Mars called petrified, feeling obligated to give me a head's up, that if she turned up at all it wasn't going to be alive. And that was it."
"Why would he call you?" Huntington shoved her lightly back to the car, just out of Santos reach. His frustration growing, "he's not a member of your pack."
"Dishonor among thieves," she coughed around a laugh as she shrugged, clutching her bad arm to her chest, more to shield her injured ribs than to anything else. "He stole from the dead? Why else would he have felt obligated to call? When the cops found her car they thought it was a robbery gone wrong, not just because she was torn up but because all of her gear was gone. Cops contacted me because they thought her daughter might be clued in on what would be valuable enough to steal and kill over, but Mars always had a better idea of what was going on in Mac's head than she ever let me know. What I do know is the Monster wouldn't have wanted gear. It wouldn't have needed it, only Mars would have taken it if he were going to ground. After that, of course I had to look for him myself."
It was a half-truth. By Mars informing her about the death first, before Deucalion, before the authorities, without having to say it aloud, he bought her silence with information. Marsten didn't want his pack to know he would disappear and she would keep it quiet of course, as long as it serviced her needs. Thieves were good at trading in truths but better at keeping secrets. It tended to extend their lives.
"You're going to tell me where he is now!" Santos grabbed her by the hair and slammed her against the trunk and the car tittered back and forth on the curb. She felt dizzy for more reason than one. She still felt a bit buzzed drunk; she really almost liked being drunk until she just really didn't like being drunk anymore.
"He's safer than in Beacon Hills anyway," she chuckled, grinding her teeth against pain. "That's the thing with sleight of hand. You've all been looking at disaster while there are Monsters all over this County."
"Tell us where to find him or I'll claw the truth out of you?" Santos leaned his weight into her back, and he dug claws into her bruised ribs.
Whimpering, Nik sagged before she could manage to answer, her stubbornness trying to buy time. "Why? So you can have him fight in a war for you? Don't you get it, if I tell you the whole truth, then what's the point in keeping me alive?"
With his claws in Nik's side Santos lifted her up and flipped her over onto her back. She stared wide-eyed up as he reached back, claws extracted with that same gesture that would normally leave him vulnerable for an upper cut but she wasn't up for the task "-Wait! Wait! Not the face!" she cried out.
Huntington laughed at that, it was so uncharacteristic toward her belligerent nature, "you understand Nik, we might have to keep you alive but we don't have to keep you in one piece."
"I get that," she coughed back a laugh a watched as Santos once more looked to Huntington, silently for permission for continue his barrage. Then a growl came out as he let her lose preparing for a fight. "It's just my ex-girlfriend really likes my face. You really don't want to piss her off," Nik nodded over Huntington's shoulder toward Herveaux just before she grabbed him by both sides of his back, kneed him in his lower back, then growling, flipped him backward overhead before flinging him at Santos' face.
Nik took that as a sign to stop, drop and roll beneath the Deputy's car while waiting for the worst of it to pass.
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Track 02 - Damn Your Eyes (Etta James cover) by Alex Clare
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Several minutes later the weight of the car rose and began to tug toward the roadside. Nik took that as a sign to crawl out. Aside from some aches and a few tears in her wardrobe she felt very much herself and much better about the evening overall.
Laid out unconscious and bloodied, Santos and Huntington were neatly lined up along the meridian. Tone in a flimsy tank top, on lean legs cut off at short-shorts Herveaux stood blood splattered but healing, with eyes still colored bright and beaming gold. Ennis' spy; normally unseen but Nik grinned to notice Herveaux' familiar face. For some time, Nik sensed her on the peripheries, but suspected Herveaux would eventually show face whether or not Ennis asked. There was both their appeal and the problem. A spy and a thief could make wealth of everything in their relationship except trust.
"Do you really know where Marsten is?" Herveaux swiped at her nose, then reached and pulled twigs from Nik's hair. Her expression was soft with relief and a smile came slowly almost unwilling across her features. She was probably instructed not to get involved, Nik smirked in return.
"I don't have a reason to lie," Nik quirked a brow. Herveaux knew Nik well enough to figure she could do a lot of questionable things, lying wasn't one of them. Nik felt that was Herveaux's forte, and her expression said as much.
"So you're keeping him captive," Herveaux sounded disapproving. She turned and walked back toward bodies. She jutted her chin, a gesture for Nik to follow.
"I have no reason to do that," Nik grunted while she helped lift Santos and carry him to the cruiser. They couldn't leave the bodies in the road and while they were still figuring out what next to do it only made sense to keep them in the car which had a gated back seat. After locking the door Nik dusted her hands as if touching them were somehow filthy, "Everyone keeps thinking the worst of it is happening here in Beacon Hills, they forget this whole county has gone to shit. We're just in the eye of a storm."
"The eye is the calm part," Herveaux laughed.
"Mmhm," Nik groaned in recognition, not recanting her statement in the slightest.
"When will you tell Kali?" asked Herveaux, as they walked over to the motorcycle. Nik shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and looked to her feet. She owed something to Marsten and secretly Mars stole from her. Until that got sorted out, her lips were sealed.
"So you're just as bad as Santos?" Herveaux turned to stand in her way. Herveaux stood slightly taller by a mere inch but there was no doubt she was the more intimidating of the two. When she ground out her words it sent chills down Nik's spine and caused her canines to grind down. Their eyes bore into each other's as she demanded to know, "are you just trying to keep another player off the board."
"It's war Herveaux." Nik's frowned, she sounded fierce but Herveaux could sense sadness off of her. "Maybe it is a numbers game... and maybe it's also about taking players off the board." Suddenly she stepped nearer throwing Herveaux's senses out of whack, all she could smell was Nik's sweat and pheromones. When Nik placed a hand on each of her shoulders and leaned up to place a kiss on her forehead, she closed her off and all she could hear was the breath close to her ear and the sigh as she pulled away. "Can you do one more thing for me tonight? Kitten, please don't fight."
When she eased back Herveaux's senses came flooding back and she noticed the street filled up with Deucalion's pack. Despite Nik's request as she stepped back, Herveaux's instinct had her jumping forward, fangs bared and claws out.
Deucalion stood on the center of the divide, beside him Søren, hair clipped short and looking militant with a hand on the shoulder of a fierce blond with bright eyes lined with charcoal and a smattering of ruby red that made her fangs look like gleaming knives. Flanked on the right side of the road stood Jonsen with dark skin and darker wilder curls, her growls cut through the night's chill. On the left side of the road stood Meyers, looking twitchy with anticipation. When Herveaux looked back to Nik, she stood beside the Deputy's car, shaking her head she mouthed the word 'please' and so Herveaux surrendered without a fight.
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Track 03 - About Her by Malcolm McLaren
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"It's good we did it your way," Deucalion said gratefully, to his thief with a voice full of pride. "Now we have the department access, 3 Werewolves, their transport... and the Deputy's car."
"That part was incidental," Nik said meekly, rubbing at her sore ribs. "We should probably send that back."
"You were right about thinking small," he said in an undertone, "this was a much better score." Nik only nodded, tiredness weighed on as she watched Søren and Jonsen drive the cruiser to the main house with Santos, Huntington and Herveaux confined in the backseat.
"I'll copy the Deputy's keys for now. Then drive the car back into town," Meyers said, popping over into their conversation.
"Take Reíka with you," Deucalion instructed, "she needs something to do." Meyers nodded and whistled with two fingers to get the blonde's attention. She looked dubious but after following him to the motorcycle they took off toward town.
"She uses the name?" Nik asked, following Deucalion as they made the slow meandering walk back to the main house. There was a shortcut through onto their property that the guys from Kali's pack hadn't realized they were so very close to. She had nearly lured them onto it, just a mile off but it was near enough for the trap to work anyhow. She just had to distract them with a little fisticuffs until her pack could catch up.
"Remember where we all started out," Deucalion said after a little thought. He looked Nik over and something in his expression, in the candor kept her thinking about their little home and how far they had come to become a family. "She needs something," he reminded. Nik nodded. They all once needed a life worth fighting for, it wasn't just that Deucalion gave them that but he let them find that in one another. They found loyalty in each other because of it but words were not enough, Reíka was finding that out, which meant letting go of everything that came before. She thought about Marsten out there captive with strangers and what Deucalion would really think of her if he knew the truth. Nik thought about knowing her Mother, Mac was dead 2 whole days before Deucalion did, and wondered if that loyalty to Mars or to Mac really did save anyone any grief.
They walked a long way in the silence of the night, but Nik listened to his heart and waited until hers fell into step with his before she asked "Deuc? If you're going to take Herveaux to the basement- not the face?"
"Do you want to be there?" Deucalion gave a light-hearted sound that was near laughter but it was more for her benefit than any truth to his sentiment. He waited for her to catch up beside the porch. The car was parked around the back, away from any unlikely passerby to see and waiting for Meyers and Reíka to drive it back to town. Deucalion knew Nik's loyalty was stretched between Herveaux and the pack. After all, Herveaux didn't have to come to the rescue tonight, not to mention she was never a target to begin with. Plus, there was a value in holding another pack's second in command captive.
Swallowing a breath Nik continued her internal argument outward, "I was there when you received my half-brother, his wife and Reíka. If you're telling me I have to be there when we receive Herveaux I will be but if I could sleep off this hangover instead?" Her face was still but her breath was quick in her chest and her eyes large with heartache.
"My loyal Nikola," Deucalion brushed a hand along her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, uneasiness pressed down heavily on her. "You are free to do whatever you choose, always. I hope you know that." He meant the statement with every burdensome syllable. Nik nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from saying anything foolish.
When the sound of a nearing motorcycle with their friends' interrupted them she escaped into the main house and left her Leader to teach his lessons to someone else.
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Track 04 - Somewhere by Sanders Bohlke
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{Sunday, Early Morning}
The Argents' contact Tyhurst was able to provide a first name, 'Quint,' to add to their list of victims. And explained to the Sheriff, sure enough the kid had been added to a 'registry of missing teens,' but details were still vague. Sheriff Stilinski didn't like vagaries. And when a fully rested Jordan Parrish turned up with one of the gallon boxes that the sinister Dunkin Donuts provided, he realized two things; 1) adding the investigation of a missing kid the same age of his previously missing son meant moving this probably, maybe, definitely to the garage, and 2) the night's rest was well-timed for a day off spent at his investigation board.
There wasn't a direct correlating line from this kid to the events from the past couple of days but the timing couldn't be an accident. And if his gut had anything to say, then it had a testimony set and ready.
"This boy, Quint and Derek Hale's body were the only posed victims," Parrish supposed. He played with the lip of his paper cup. It had been mutilated to the point of being paper mâché.
"Being dumped at the Hale House is obviously a statement." With intent eyes, Stilinski matched new evidence to old locations on the board. His deep frown said grave things even as he kept his voice controlled, "but as long as the Argents' man is giving us misinformation we aren't going to figure you what the message is or to who?"
"You're sure Tyhurst is giving us misinformation?" Parrish leaned forward, his voice dropped to a low firm tone.
Stilinski shook his head. "All the information he's giving us checks out but what he's telling us is half the story." He sat back down on the lawn chair, dragging it back to the patio table that served as their new home base. The map on the board had filled up with strings like tinsel on a Christmas tree, but this time around he felt as though they were getting somewhere despite each new setback. As long as he kept an open mind and consider for 2-steps forward there would be the inevitable 1-step back. "Tyhurst is an asset. And he's a liability. I saw the way he looked at the marks on the door. He recognized them. He's playing his cards close to the chest. He says the kid has shown up in a database but the family won't release the whole name."
"Do you think it bears any relevance to the pattern?" Parrish studied the crude markings Stilinski redrew from memory. They didn't bring anything to his mind, but Tyhurst wasn't the only one with connections. He thought about his Military connections and considered if there was anything there. If he could think of someone- so he suggested as much.
Stilinski nodded in gratitude, but the upturn of his lips were short lived. "We're going to have to move forward as if it doesn't." He moved on, like so many times to their core motivation, their growing list of victims.
"Hey Dad," Stiles gave a knock-knock before popping his head into the garage door, he didn't wait for an okay to step in. "I'm going to head out to Scott's."
The two leaned toward the door, with discerning seriousness and considering their investigative décor Stiles did not take offense. They didn't have to move to hide a thing, considering they'd prepared for this sort of thing and positioned their investigation board opposite the line of sight of the entrance and their folders kept "CONFIDENTIAL" despite having been brought home. It would have been too obvious if Stiles tried to sneak a peek. Plus, the point was he just wanted to make certain to check-in this time and because of the anxiety his Dad didn't think to question the earliness of the hour, so he had that going for him.
"Alright son," he said after an awkward pause but the smile that followed was genuine.
Stiles grinned in return, and quickly replied "thanks Dad." He paused at the door as if he wanted to say more but just smiled while practically hopping in place before he darted away, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.
Parrish didn't ask how things were adjusting but it was obviously written across his forehead when their conversation didn't pick up.
"He's a great kid," Stilinski startled him with his admittance.
"I don't doubt it," Parrish said as he sat upright, wide-eyed and with a pressed smile quickly plastered across his face.
"A trouble-maker."
"I've noticed."
"It's a little difficult getting back into the groove of things," he grimaced a bit, re-living some bitterness. "The neighbors seem to be having a harder time of it then we are. Staring, excessively waving, and sometimes snapping pictures of him with their phones. It's everything I can do to keep him out of the papers."
Shuffling papers in a failing attempt to refocus, he gratefully grabbed up the notes Parrish handed back. Stilinski needed the work, not just because of his devotion to the town but because of his dedication to get his life back on track.
"So it's everything you hoped it would be and more?" said Parrish, half in admiration and half in jest.
The Chief grinned at that. "As a Dad," he said with pride dripping in his voice, "there is always more." He took a moment flipping through the notes of the victims. He no longer hesitated when seeing his wife's name among the dead and knew it was because Stiles was home. He looked up again at Parrish who started to focus once more on the work and admired the dedication of this newly inducted Deputy.
"As a Sheriff there will always be more as well," he conceded and Parrish gave a grunt in acknowledgment. "I appreciate your help with balancing everything, but I think I might have to ask you a little more."
Deputy Parrish looked up, excited and bright-eyed once more but from the stern and now well-practiced fatherly expression Sheriff Stilinski showed him, Parrish's eagerness quickly lost its shine.
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Track 05 - Kids by MGMT
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There were so many "The Plan's" going around Stiles had lost track. And since he felt his newest one trumped all he wanted was an early start. It was a small blessing the guys hadn't stayed over at his house like originally planned. His Dad and Parrish having taken up the first floor of the house made it an easier choice.
Stiles didn't want to admit it aloud but after the latest cheat with death, with Isaac's valued new lease on life, he wanted to put a pin in Cora's rescue plans but wasn't sure what the others' take on that would be. Not after his earlier pushier position. He wasn't giving up on her, not ever but after Allison presented him the optional photo of his Dad's investigation board, and the loss of his coveted notebook, Stiles wanted to put a little bit of reasonable distance before acting. First, he chased a lead right into the Hale House and almost got his friends blown up, then swore not to get his friends in that situation again. Then instead Stiles put himself in danger, alone, strung up and poisoned after telling them he wouldn't do something like that, after promising he would stay in town and safe, for a long, long time. So he wanted a bit of fresh perspective and a little more insight from a friendly neighborhood Hunter.
As Stiles raced up the steps to the McCalls', he sensed a little something out of whack. He caught up with Melissa as she headed out to an early shift, she met him happily at the front door, pleased to see his progress healthwise, but she let him know right away the boys weren't home.
"They left before the sun came up," she sounded a little put out. "When I reminded them the house wasn't a lacrosse field they decided to leave early to field practice." Melissa's eyes went from soft to squinting with discomfort, and Stiles could hear the strain it took to keep her from complaining about the damage to her property. "You can probably catch up with them at the school."
Well then, that made it a little bit easier to avoid his own house and his obsessive Dad with possibly more secrets than even he had.
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It wasn't the worst thing to catch up with them at the school. Stiles did still have to study up for the placement exam, even if they were still waiting on his transcripts. And he heard it from a birdy that a certain Argent and company had volunteered in the tutoring department. It was still a few hours off before students would come trickling into the library for that.
Until then Stiles easily found his brothers crushing each other on the lacrosse field, something a little more than entertaining. After a brief wave and grin he settled down on a side bench to watch, occasionally shouting incomprehensible direction.
"Do you even know anything about lacrosse?" said Isaac, hands on his knees, keeled over and panting.
"Sure... like from when I was 7 or 8." He shrugged grinning, "Basically, there is putting the ball in the net and I don't have to be as crap as you two."
Isaac looked to Scott with mild alarm on his face.
"Stiles wants to join the team," Scott looked apologetic and tossed the ball back into the air, smacked it back into the air several times with the end of his lacrosse stick.
Isaac glared at him and stole the ball out of spite.
Stiles never quite explained why he arrived so early; he didn't want to spoil the moment. That would happen soon anyway as was their luck when Isaac and Scott explained their sleepless night and early practice. Followed up with how they wanted Stiles' help with teaching Scott how to survive both with and without his Alpha.
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Track 06 - Is This The End - Brøthers
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"Come on, I only just figured it out," Scott squawked as he dove for cover.
"Simple as that, 'my Alpha's that Monster'," Stiles looked incredulous. He had grabbed up the lacrosse stick and insisted Scott stand as goalie. Ball after ball he swung nearer and nearer to Scott's head with vicious intent. Scott didn't have a hope in hell of catching one; in fact, he barely had a chance at dodging for his life. "Way to bury the lead!"
"This isn't learning maneuvers," Isaac offered lamely from the sidelines. Stiles gave him a silent glare to keep off unless he wanted to be under fire. After a harsh gulp, Isaac remained chastised and stared toward the end field.
"You should have called me, that's," WHACK "all" WHACK "I'm" WHACK "saying!" Stiles grunted and dropped the stick to the ground once he ran out of sports equipment to hit, in a wise attempt to keep from hitting something else.
"I wanted to!" Scott dropped to the ground panting, having caught the last ball between his shoulder and the left edge of his helmet. He lay flat at twisted angle, collapsed under a mountain of sweat and lacrosse supplies. After a second to catch his breath he leaned up onto his elbow and tore off his helmet to be heard clearer over the distance, "but by the time I could get a hold of you, you could barely stand, forget about talking!"
Stiles shook it off and tossed Isaac his lacrosse stick, he tried not to focus on where he was instead of at the time his best-friend had this terrible realization. Yet again, another milestone in his transition and he had no one to help him through it.
"You're brooding," Isaac grumbled up at him, as he drew close to sit beside him on the bench. "It doesn't look good on you."
"Shut up," Stiles failed at trying not to smile. "What else happened while my back was turned? Any other near death experiences I should know about?" He caught Isaac off guard while his eyes skirted along to the opposite end of the field, where the trees and the running track collided.
"You're a riot, Stilinski." He sniffed, it was kind of funny. Then he leaned forward and frowned remembering the other reasons for their early morning trip to the lacrosse field. "We're trying to work through some stuff, like figuring out if there are more Alphas around than the ones that got us on our way in into Northbridge."
Stiles fell silent, a rare sight and with a mouth slightly gaped and brows knit tight he waited for a follow up.
"And why this new Alpha decided to put me 6-feet under-"
"Jeez, another one who decides to friggin' announce the coming of the end like they're broadcasting the weather."
"I'm doing just fine." Isaac assured him. "And before you think about arguing, it was better that you stayed with your Dad and took care of him. If you came with me, we both would have just ended up pounded into the ground."
"You don'-! You don't know that," as his anxiety spiked, Stiles adamantly shook his head. He hadn't sensed Scott come up beside him until a calming hand clamped on his shoulder.
"Nothing that happened is your fault," Isaac craned his neck to see Stiles' face full-on, but all he could see was a face of confusion and anger that Stiles more often aimed at traffic jams, complex math equations and someone he was ready to brawl with. "Tell me you get that."
"Then whose fault is it?" Stiles scoffed.
"Allison is looking into that. But at least we know it isn't someone we know," Isaac explained, he went onto to add he was willing to share with her his testimonial of events. Isaac seemed eager to work with the Argents, a significant change of heart from 24-hours ago. It seemed it was true what they said about near death experiences, they did cause permanent damage due to lack of oxygen to the brain. In any case, Isaac freely shared accounts of both events and descriptions of everything he sensed.
"You're saying it wasn't Jackson," Stiles didn't seem relieved or disappointed by the revelation, the fact is once the fever had run its course and he could put his observations of the attack site into context he surmised as much. Stiles stared down at the hands clasped between his knees and wondered at how the Hunter's findings would be any better than their little group could come up with.
"Upset?" Scott had trouble sensing out others at times, but Stiles' stillness was certainly unfathomable to him. Maybe he was one of those Werewolves who was a master at inhibiting their scent, or maybe he was so absorbed in his thoughts he was transported to a different place altogether.
"What? No." Stiles came back to the surface, remembering his concerns in the forefront. "You've got Jackson going beast on a whim, a Monster climbing into Scott's dreams and this other Alpha prowling around campus. There could be any other supernatural wandering around these grounds... I wonder what the Argents have figured out about that?"
Earlier, at the mention of Isaac working with Allison, Scott struggled not to feel emotional. But this second time around at the mention of what the Argents might know it wasn't the thoughts Allison where Scott's mind flew. Instead there were thoughts of Kira and her secret he sought to keep safe. He didn't like to keep things from his best-friends, he definitely felt it was always best when everyone knew the truth but he wasn't certain what her truth was yet. He sensed her speed, her strength and the way she enjoyed feeling super-powered but there was something about her that was still off. His curiosity drove him to distraction.
"If you're going to suspect just anyone who has special abilities you could throw Lydia into the mix," Isaac mentioned just to point out how ludicrous Stiles' speculation was.
Looking toward the racetrack, but unlike Isaac not thinking of the attack Scott muttered "there's more things in heaven and earth, Stiles, than you can dream of."
At that both Isaac and Stiles' heads whipped around to look at him, curiosity and amusement plastered across their faces. Scott took a moment to come back to attention, his expression matched theirs only with an impish grin.
"Studying Hamlet for your English Midterms?" asked Stiles.
"Yep," grinned Scott.
"Nice." Stiles considered, nodded his approval and moved on.
"You okay with us working with Allison?" asked Isaac and Stiles broke off from his brooding when he realized the question wasn't directed toward him.
"Yeah," Scott claimed sounding like he had a frog in his throat. After a gulp, he realized he'd clamped the head of the lacrosse stick enough to warp the shape, and the lacing sagged loose through it like a hobo's sack. "Yeah, I'm okay," he insisted despite the evidence to the contrary. Scott worked slowly through the process of reshaping the lacrosse stick, reminding himself (without chastisement) that he couldn't afford to replace this thing and he couldn't afford to lose his cool at the mention of Allison's name.
"And that's another item on the list," Isaac looked to Stiles, a dark humor in his eyes. "Scott needs our help."
Stiles' eyes darted between the two and though he sensed the same cageyness from the night before, this time it was caked with a stench unfamiliar to Scott, "what's wrong with you? You smell terrible."
"Yeah it's called heartbreak. About two billion songs written about it," Scott said glumly, after first taking a deep breath he dropped the sports equipment and then he dropped onto the bench on Stiles' left. "Every time I think about her I feel like someone is hitting me in the ribs with a hammer." And when he spoke, even without opening his eyes the other two could sense Scott's strain to keep their color from changing, to keep his claws from extending and himself just within the restraints of control.
"Logically, we figured," Isaac flipped over a ball on the head of his lacrosse stick, "taking him out for a walk might be smarter than keeping him locked up indoors."
"Alright, that works for right now but," Stiles paused, if the drop in his tone didn't convey enough of his worry certainly the gentleness that crept behind his dark eyes nailed it. Scott had been alone with this burden of change long enough, there was no way he would let him alone one second longer, "Scott you've been good without your Alpha for this long- now that we know the identity you've got to keep it together."
"I can't." Scott closed his eyes as a weighing realization pressed in on him. He never had doubt before because someone beside him supported him so thoroughly there was never any room for it.
"Of course you can," Isaac assured him, the conviction in his voice was matched only by his astonishment that Scott didn't know this about himself yet. Then he added with care, "just anchor yourself."
"Allison was my anchor!" rejected Scott as his voice strained with agitation. It was obvious from the way his body stiffened and his fingers curled into his palms, while he looked between the two, shamefaced, that he never meant to come off as bitter. Just as he never meant to take out his hurt on them either. He was just lost in the thick of it.
"Dude, we're going to be here for you." Stiles said calmly, speaking easily on behalf of both Isaac and himself.
It was a difficult thing for Stiles to wrap his brain around 100%. He didn't grow up with a Dad around but growing up among Werewolves he had no lack of Alpha presence in his life, and so no earthly experience where Scott was coming from. Even so, Stiles moved nearer and spoke lower to his friend, undeterred by his agitated state. Because even if he wasn't 100% sure what was going on or going to happen next, he knew how to be Scott's best-friend. And he knew that he would never let him go through anything like this, whatever this is, alone. Although Scott's breaths were still harsh he didn't jump when Stiles slung an arm over his shoulder bringing them close together, butting their heads slightly.
"You're gonna get your heart broke man," Stiles promised smugly. Which made Scott groan half in dismay, half in amusement as Stiles continued, "and then you're gonna be a better, kinder man because of it. We're going to help you see that because we're stronger together but in the end, you gotta be your own anchor."
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Track 07 - Help Me Close My Eyes by Those Dancing Days
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The only time special exceptions had been made for Liam Dunbar they came with negative exemptions. When he transferred into BHHS it was because he had been kicked out of Devenford Prep for his violent outbursts, but those same violent outbursts brought him to Coach Flinstock's attention. Sure, Liam really liked lacrosse but he didn't like the fact that he didn't score a place on the team because of talent. And Liam definitely didn't like that he sat on second line.
Every spare breath, muscle and moment he dedicated to lacrosse in hopes of earning the approval from senior members of the team, in hopes of getting their support and maybe impressing Coach enough to get called into a game because of talent, not because they needed a ringer.
After his usual 3 mile run along jogger's path, along the Preserve and behind the University, Liam headed into the field extra-early to work on this aim playing 'Wall Ball' against the closed goal cage. Pretty much what he did every Sunday except this around, despite however improbable, 2 of his teammates made it onto the field earlier than he had. Out of both of the Cyclones Co-Captains, Liam responded better to Scott McCall's easygoing natural than to Jackson Whittemore's more demanding tactics. Liam was already pretty demanding of himself as it were, so it helped to have someone taper his temper. But turning up and discovering someone had swallowed up Liam's opportune moment at the opportune place with the opportune mentor sat raw with him.
After struggling with his anger issues since the beginning of the term, Liam aimed to catch the interest of any senior player to practice up with him but no one had the patience. McCall's even temper would have made an ideal match but whenever Liam mentioned something like it, Scott sheepishly explained home life never left room for something like training together. Then Scott would make a vague promise that in a future time there could be something else they might do, like spot each other when they weight-train or maybe speak up for him to Coach. And with that, Scott would backpedal out of the conversation before he finished his sentence.
Yet Isaac Lahey had been on the lacrosse team barely 2 months when Co-Captain McCall took him under his wing. Soon they would disappear from endurance runs, just the 2 of them, and turn up like human tumbleweed 20 minutes later. Then they would get into fights at school they would be inseparable the next day. They were practically double-dating with Allison and Lydia from what everyone in the lunchroom gossiped about. It was like something out of a buddy sitcom. Liam tried to sit well with all of it because Isaac did have natural talent at lacrosse (that all his sleepless nights of practice couldn't match up to), and to add to that Isaac was a sophomore, seniority simply got you places and Liam wanted to get to those places on his own merit. So Liam told himself over and over again, he was fine with that, as he trained even harder to sweat the bitterness out.
From under the bleachers, Liam watched the wiry sporadic technique the Sheriff's estranged son brought to the sport he obviously didn't understand and choked down his intense feelings of envy. He couldn't tear his eyes away from witnessing Co-Captain McCall and Midfielder Lahey take some non-teammate under their wing effortlessly and Liam wanted to wreck something but he couldn't even look away.
The team's goalie chanced upon him an hour or so later, when he walked from student parking to the team's entrance of the locker rooms after his boyfriend dropped him off. While leading Liam away from his obsession and toward the locker rooms, Danny offered some words of insight; he told Liam there were plenty of worse things to deal with than feeling overlooked, like being the center of attention. They looked toward Jackson's truck swerving into two spaces in student parking after narrowly missing a Kawasaki speeding out toward the road. Danny looked particularly perturbed but Liam felt utterly unconvinced.
After overhearing this, Coach Finstock had a different outlook entirely and felt a crushing need to remind Liam that crazed intensity is what got a freshman on the team to begin with. This incident at Liam's old school that nearly destroyed his old Coach's career, but his new Coach considered it a tryout for the team and not to mention some sort of karmic retribution for an old grudge between Coaches. The intensity of Coach Finstock's spite surprised even Liam, who knew bitterness all too well.
With that, Liam replaced the feelings of jealousy clogging his throat with thoughts of ambition smashing his mind to prove his worth as more than a token added to the last quarter or playing at being the little brother to the mentor. The next time all eyes were on Liam Dunbar, it would be because of greatness he achieved on his own terms.
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Track 08 - What You Need by Flume
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It could only be assumed Allison and Scott were one of those couples who texted each other good morning the moment their eyes opened, to say 'god bless you' each time they sneezed. At least it seemed that way from how Allison kept checking her phone. Eventually, Lydia texted Scott and Isaac that they were headed into check in for tutoring in case anyone needed either Allison or her while they were at BHHS. After everything the day before and the nightmare that followed, it seemed Allison needed a little more time to recover but still wanted to make herself available without outwardly saying so. Lydia sent a second message alone to Scott, concerned with his break with Allison;
· "Talk later. I'd make a bad buffer anyway."
Lydia wasn't wrong although she wasn't being entirely honest either. When she drove Allison into school she had no intention of checking-in for their cram-session. She knew Allison wanted to tie her hair back, cuddle up in her favorite flannel and transport into the quiet normalcy of her tablet.
It was never Lydia's intention to leave the school grounds. After dropping Allison off in front of the school she drove around to student parking and waited long enough for the turnover of athletic students to inconspicuously slip into the field entrance. Lydia marched without suspicion toward the swimming pool despite there not being any team meets today. The defrost from the fickle winter weather made every Coach eager to get their teams onto the field every spare moment, with whatever team members were willing to turn up. It meant people were in and out often enough locking up wasn't the most practical habit. She'd anticipated Coach Helisek's lapse in judgment and found the swimming pool area shut down but not locked down.
Walking the edge of a place where her life blinked out for who knows how long- Lydia wasn't the sort of person who believed she survived because of a bigger purpose or grand destiny. From Lydia's perspective, it wasn't that she was lucky to be alive, it was that whoever was trying to hurt the people she cared about was damn unlucky she was still around to ruin their plans.
While Lydia slowed toward the corner of the swimming pool where she woke bruised and spewing chlorine water she felt her chest begin to tighten as if she were once again underwater, trying to breathe. She refused to let anxiety get the better of her, especially since she intended to figure out who yanked her from the water to safety and that wouldn't happen if she ran away now would it? When she dropped her cross body purse to the ground beside her, it sent an eerie echoing sound throughout the room. It just began to dim by the time the sound of her pumps clanging to the deck was audible. With the far away sounds of lacrosse practice twisted in the mix each sound bounced back and forth, reverberating through her reminding her of the vague, here-and-there sounds of listening to Isaac running through the woods.
After sitting on the edge of the pool, Lydia considered the evidence from the day before; the idea that there are new and different players on the field, a new Alpha in the mix and possibly paranormal bold enough to come onto the school grounds. Although Lydia's kept in mind the influential powerful an Alpha would have over her Beta friends, it had been a while since she considered the actions it would be devising. Before she knew it her bare feet slipped soundlessly beneath the surface of the water, swaying back and forth. The soothing optical illusion of being near and far made her think clearly for the first time in a while. The altercation in the woods wasn't an attack, not in the way everyone perceived it and even if that was what she sensed and saw in her vision, with emotions high and her inexperience as a Banshee who would believe her? In fact, with only a weird watery idea, she hardly believed it herself.
Disrupting her peace of mind, causing her to kick out and sit back, Lydia reached over to see who else texted her this morning.
· I heard if you add an excuse with an apology than you're probably just going to do it again, so I'm sorry about this.
· But then, you DID say I needed practice apologizing so here goes nothing.
Stiles. Typical.
Lydia considered replying that discussing the dynamics of an apology was not, in fact, an apology for trying to manipulate her the day before. Not that it didn't make her chuckle humorlessly. She wasn't of a mind to deal with Stiles just yet, in truth he could probably try and do it a 100 times and 99% she would let him. (The 1% it wouldn't just be to keep him on his toes.) The realization sincerely bothered her, in fact it hurt more than the act of manipulation so she felt maybe a little distance would be good. Remembering Allison's facial expression when she talked of Stiles the night before, it was something born of concern with a flicker of pity.
When Lydia climbed to her feet and tugged her purse strap over her sore shoulder, she remembered there were still things she wanted to look into while everyone else was preoccupied with studies or practice. As long as her Beta friends' reliability was in question and her Hunter friend reported to her family she wanted to keep this piece of herself secret for a while.
When her phone buzzed again, (and again and again) she managed to walk without tripping as she read each text but replied to none of them. She couldn't imagine how to explain (without coming across as a hypocrite) that for now, things had to be this way.
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Track 09 - Ffunny Ffrends (Naked and Famous Remix) by Unknown Orchestra
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The library reeked of desperation, populated with twice as many students expected for a Sunday study/cram session. The repairs caused low attendance for Saturday's sessions, bringing the numbers up to an oh-so whopping number of 17. The stress of having midterms begin the next morning made it all that much easier for Stiles to slip in among the masses.
Mr. Harris insisted Stiles sign-in of course, which he did without fuss. It wasn't a deceit since Stiles had to study up for a placement exam later that week but when he flustered to be assigned a tutor, even his fast-talking didn't get him around Mr. Harris' dour disposition (especially since the first impression he had left on the man was a failed attempt on detention from the week before).
Of course Allison clocked his bumbling entrance while she thankfully finished her first Starbucks for the day and before he could catch her 'odd-man out' seating on the balcony. So she offered to tutor, she said waving him up toward her. His idea of finding Lydia had been thrown off by the appearance of Allison. A thousand questions danced through his mind (of course one of them being where he could find Lydia, but he could get to that) he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.
"Sweet," Stiles said dropping into the seat across from Allison. He flipped through the notebooks she had on the table while she continued to poke at her tablet. He commented on the great view, observing access to every entry point while at the same time keeping the wall behind them to reduce a chance at surprise attacks.
"It's Lydia's reserved seating. Don't look too disappointed in me," Allison half-jested after putting her tablet to sleep. When Stiles stared at her startled and doe-eyed she smiled lightly and pushed a Human Anatomy textbook toward him. After explaining sincerely, she was there to study "go on quiz me."
Stiles considered the options and flipped to the pages she had marked, divided with lined paper and desperate markings. After a few Q&A's Stiles grew upset, "this is what you're up to?" her frustration with the material frustrated him. "How am I supposed to catch up to this material in a day?"
Allison covered her mouth to keep from laughing, "And this is why we study."
Stiles shook his head, as someone trained to keep her emotions in check, she did a damn good job of simply reflecting one thing. Disappointment.
"You're doing a good job," he sighed and finally said after a long pause.
It was obvious their topic of conversation had changed drastically. Allison stared at him unblinking, her eyes went tender and she gnawed on her lip to keep it still.
Stiles looked around, not because he imagined someone would overhear them, but because he felt uncomfortable. He imagined that she had a million things to say. He certainly felt he had a million things to say, but without any feedback this was going to be a weird conversation. He had not only never become friends with a Hunter before but he had never had a sit-down heart-to-heart with his best-friend's ex before and he wasn't sure he was doing this right. He scooted his chair closer under the desk and tucked his hands between his knees, hunching further into himself to keep his voice low.
"I get why you called it off with Scott. It was a bold choice and the right thing to do."
"fuck you," she whispered like it was a secret. Allison didn't say it with any anger, she said it like he had hurt her but he sensed the relief coming off of her like a wave.
"Yeah, okay." He breathed out and nodded, accepting that. "Your turn."
Allison tilted her head and folded her arms across her chest while she considered the prospect.
"6 years. Where have you been?" with that her expression went from introspective to haughty with a smirk. "I'm talking location not metaphysical."
"New Mexico," Stiles said after a beat. He shook his head and leaned back a bit, narrowed his eyes and wondered not for the first time how it was she went undetected for so long when everything about her screamed crafty little witch. "Why was it you took the photo of my Father's investigation board in the kitchen?"
Allison shrugged, "instinct." She leaned upright and pulled her Android out of her back pocket, making a gesture of goodwill to text him the photo straight away. He yanked out his Samsung immediately and stared at it, willing his cellphone service to work quicker already.
The moment he got the photo he zoomed up on it and started to analyze it, memorize it. He knew he wouldn't delete this and there would be no gesture of throwing it into the fire, not this time. "Has Scott seen this?" he asked without looking up.
"I'm not sure," she said frankly. With her Android out as well Allison decided to follow Stiles' example and look through her copies of the picture. She wasn't sure what he was catching on first glance, possibly not the same things she had seen after staring at it dozens of times. She wanted to question him but it didn't feel like the right time. "It's not likely. He's avoided your house and even if he went through the kitchen he doesn't like looking at pictures of the attacks. He wouldn't have looked at it for more than a second. He definitely would have tried to forget about it. I think it reminds him too much of, you know, his own incident."
Finally, Stiles looked up, all stillness and seriousness on his face, "did you show this to your family?"
Allison gave it a split second's thought, then shook her head no. It honestly never occurred to her to share it with them.
He let out a soft breath that sounded like a scoff but was more disbelief than relief, "thanks."
Allison wanted to say 'anytime' but knew she couldn't promise that to him even though she wanted to. Instead she shrugged and shoved her phone back into her jeans.
"You spent 6 years in New Mexico, you left everything behind and say you never planned on coming home. It must have been pretty comfortable where you were," Allison said questioningly.
Stiles looked amused and put his phone down on the table, the line once again being blurred between this family and that family. "It was home."
"Derek couldn't have raised you," Allison implied.
"Nope," Stiles scoffed. "Not in a million-million years. Let me ask you something, Allison. Why are you asking this now? Why not when you were attached to Scott's hip?"
"I don't know." She stopped and thought about the question. For a moment she went back to flipping through the notebooks on the desk and Lydia's genius notes on how to get through Mr. Harris' Human Sciences went flying by. "I guess because I'm not like Scott or Lydia. And I don't doubt you're going to stick around for a bit. Which means I'm not going to have a past between us to rely on and I'm not a very trusting person to begin with, but I think we're the same like that." Her eyes flicked up to catch the way he glared at her, angry with how much he couldn't deny what she said was true. "And I think we're the same in other ways too. We're pretty good liars. But when it comes to caring about those two... there's nothing we wouldn't do."
"Yeah," Stiles said trying to sound easy but his voice came across gruff. He looked out over the balcony, eyeing the exits out of anxiety before he looked back to her. "You'd kill for them wouldn't you?"
Allison didn't hesitate to nod. She didn't have to ask him right back to know his answer but she did have to bring the tone down before she knew things would go south. She'd questioned Werewolves before but she'd had the benefit of a room built with Hecatolite in the walls.
"You were really young. Isaac and the rest of them wouldn't bond with the Pack for at least for 4 or 5 years, so you must have been really happy with the Hales until then. Or else you would have tried to come home no matter what the circumstances. Why can't you just tell Scott and Lydia that?" Allison knew enough of transformation that during the first transformative healing experiences, the craving to go home, to go someplace safe is so strong, young Werewolves had been known to terrorize entire towns.
At the moment Stiles couldn't get used to a Hunter knowing him better than his Werewolf best-friend. He sucked his teeth and nodded in consideration, "and you? You must have kept Scott really happy during his first turn? That... that sounded a lot less smutty in my head."
Allison chuckled. "It was tough with Scott. He was scared so that made it worse but we found an abandoned old subway station at the edge of town to campout at and lock ourselves up in for the night. After the first time he trusted himself more, we had worked it out and it became less intense." Stiles looked skeptical but nodded along anyway, "see. I just mean don't you think it would bring you some sort of relief, or them to know you weren't in danger?"
"Every once in a while," Stiles said subconsciously rocking in his seat, "we hear about a Hale out there. They don't always know what they are, they just have their first change because of puberty and it's a mess. Or maybe they were in hiding but get found out as a Werewolf and everyone in the Homestead goes nuts to bring them back safely. They have a system but if everyone feels crazed about being there I never got how that meant safe. If that meant safe than why were there still so many Hales out there in hiding, you know? I don't know, after all this time growing up in their pack I still don't know anything." He scratched his jaw in thought and realized he had rambled and not really answered the question at all, "was I happy? Yeah. Safe? After you're run off a cliff and trapped in a car where you and your Mom are left for dead when you're 10, safe is relative."
"I killed once." Allison said nonchalantly. Stiles shuddered and snapped to look at her with a startled expression. She gulped thickly as she clarified and spoke more honestly "Actually, I had help kill them. It was a Berserker. Once they've been turned they aren't a man or woman anymore. When you realize they can't be brought back from being a mindless monster threatening to kill their own family, threatening to kill my partner, which makes me a defender not a murder. It's about perspective." Allison leaned forward onto her elbows and when she did, a necklace came loose from her flannel and knocked against the tabletop. She picked at the ordinate emblem nervously with her fingernails but looked at him in earnest. She admitted in a low steady voice, "telling the people close to you does take the burden off of you."
After a long moment Stiles came to realize he was holding his breath and he let it out in a low whistle. "That is a helluva game changer Allison," he said lightly and came to lean forward on the table toward her. She shrugged trying to seem light about it but her mood felt heavy.
"The truth is, they didn't want me to come home. They were afraid for my safety," Stiles gave a weak smile and folded his shaky hands on the table before him trying to steady them. "I would get these flashes of anger at the idea of coming back here and finding out my Dad might have, you know re-married and maybe gotten a bunch of step-kids or even made a new kid, and I was just a distant memory. Maybe I wanted to come back sometimes but I couldn't hold my anger in like they could and the Hales could take the hits my family here couldn't. She was teaching me to keep it all together and then sometime later it was too late. Talia got sick, my second Mom died just like that, cancer. Fucking hilarious."
Allison reached over and squeezed his hands. As a trained soldier she had prepared herself for violent deaths throughout her life, but sickness wasn't something she considered. Stiles looked to where their hands joined and stared at it like it was a strange phenomenon.
"It's alright. It was a while ago," he assured her, although he squeezed back with a tenderness that seemed to say otherwise. "It just bothers me that everything she taught me about family made me realize I keep being crappy to both of my families."
"You know, you really are good at bullshitting," Allison said after a moment and smiled softly.
Stiles took a moment to look artfully offended. "Which part?"
"For one," her shoulder lifted in an awkward narrow gesture of apology, "playing up the comparison to Peter Pan. You might as well have said you flew up to your house, there was a new boy and the window was locked closed on you."
"Damn, I didn't think I laid it on that thick," Stiles suppressed a smile. It was Aunt Kate's crappy comment of comparing his pack members to 'Lost Boys' that gave him the idea. There was sincerity behind his anxiety and anger over coming home but he had hoped Allison would have read it as something pitiable instead of something principled.
"You're a Werewolf who bailed on his family because you wanted to protect them," she grinned briefly but petted his hand a tad roughly. "Try to remember you're talking to a Hunter who just broke up with her Werewolf boyfriend to protect him from her lethal family. I'm not judging. I promise."
"Fine," was all he could say with a little laugh finding himself in a rare moment in short supply of words.
"I know they didn't keep you there. You were terrified but thought you'd grow out of being a coward," she bit her lip in consideration before launching onward in supposition. "Being a Werewolf doesn't change your mindset or emotions it just made you feel them stronger. Becoming braver never happened for you, did it? This whole incident with Derek getting kidnapped in Beacon Hills forced your hand, didn't it?"
Obviously this was something he had gone over in his head a million times before. Stiles nodded and added considerately, as one would a shopping list. "I should have been helping bring other Hales home and I should have been helping bring my Dad peace. I just was too afraid to know how to do any of that until the moment this chance came up."
"But none of that is why you didn't tell Isaac about Beacon Hills?" Allison realized.
"Nope." Stiles said, his mouth making a pop with the letter P at the end of the word.
"Did you tell anyone in your Hale pack about your family in Beacon Hills?" her face pinched with curiosity.
Stiles' mouth turned crooked as he chewed on one side in awkwardness to wordlessly display his discomfort and acknowledged there was no way in hell he wanted to talk about it then, never the less did he feel all too comfortable talking about it now.
"Not even Talia. She died thinking I was a failure, too, I'm sure" he admitted.
Allison felt crushed by his admission. All the while she had kept her fingers pressed into the pulse of his hand, Werewolves might have their abilities to sense the emotions of another but Hunters could read others in another way. And she could feel the way his pulse jumped at the recollection with the talk of Mothers which only made sense.
"Just so that you know, parents tend to let their kids off for a lot of stupidity," Allison said gently patting his hand as she released her hold, she went back to fondling her necklace before she tucked it back under her shirt. She couldn't help but remember the theft of her Mother's access to the bestiary. She could only hope her Mother forgave her for the act if she ever found out.
"No kidding," Stiles scoffed, laughing a little too loud. He received a dirty glare from nearly everyone in the library. It didn't help that Allison laughed at his laugh. For that alone Stiles brought her back near to him across the tabletop. "Just look at how he accepts that Isaac is my foster-brother. No question, no documentation, no problem."
Allison hadn't actually thought of that.
His face scrunched up in a stray thought, "actually I'm beginning to think he even likes him a little better than me."
"Really", she scoffed. "Then why is Isaac staying at Scott's?"
Stiles had given this a lot of thought when he woke up without his foster-brother under his roof. He didn't want to admit it was a thing that made him feel insecure but instead gave it the assumption it deserved. Scott needed all the post-break up support he could get. Especially since, while Isaac and Stiles could wrap their brains around emotion upheaval, Scott was too invested to understand the long standing effects. In fact, it almost seemed hilarious that Allison hadn't considered that. There was, of course, another reason.
"I guess," Stiles shrugged affably "because Isaac wants to give my Dad and me some time getting to know each other again. To know how we fit. As a family. Without Mom. Plus, it's good for Scott and Isaac."
Allison looked doubtful, it didn't help that Stiles kept making faces because he didn't seem to know how to hold down an expression of sincerity. "I think they just like it", Allison added.
"I think they're feeling each other out", Stiles sniffed.
"I think they're feeling out how they fit as a family with you," Allison said after some thought. Stiles nodded.
"Like I said," Stiles shifted in his seat, with growing discomfort at trying to find comfort, "I think it's good for them."
"Like this is good for us?" she looked on amused, crossing her arms once more across her chest and leaned back in her seat. "You're just as interested in me as I am in you. You're not just anyone. You're Scott's best friend. He trusts 2 people in the world. His Mom and a guy he hasn't seen since he was 10."
"He trusts Lydia," Stiles challenged.
"Not really," Allison wished she felt otherwise, but she'd heard Scott say so more than once. She had seen the way Scott reacted too many time when she suggested they talk it out to believe otherwise.
"He does," Stiles insisted in a low irritable tone. He took on a stance identical to her for the effect of stubbornness. "He just doesn't know that he does. And he trusts you, too. He told me he felt..." Stiles struggled for a way of rephrasing the things Scott said in private without betraying Scott's trust, "anchored when sensitive to the effects of Mother Nature and the Moon and he has on-"
"Scott doesn't have menses," Allison groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Please stop talking like a tampon ad."
Stiles leaned back in his chair with enough force to cause it to scrape the ground, he made a grimace of pain to reject his own thoughts of disgust. "Right. I'll do that back in time, where I will now travel so I can scrub my mind clean that this ever happened."
"Scott never had to say something like that out loud. I knew," Allison sighed and felt her inside deflate with ache. Since the breakup she tried not to reflect on their more intimate moments. Nothing of a sexual nature but those quiet, shared moments like when they lay on the roof of her car and they talked and talked about nothing and everything and he wasn't the wolf and she wasn't a hunter but they were unafraid and in love.
"It's some Hunter thing right?" Stiles asked.
"A girlfriend thing," she scoffed lightly, "that's how we learned to trust each other."
"Oh. Right." He remembered that while his brother in all but blood moped outside, as this girl went and did exactly what Stiles wanted her to do since he first set eyes on her. Allison separated herself from his best-friend for Scott's protection and Stiles couldn't help sense how it tore her up inside. Not just that but from the moment Stiles met her he had been watching the slow decline of everything she loved, every delicately constructed thread of her life, every artfully placed lie. "So sorry my foster-brother outted you as being a Hunter." Stiles said quickly on instinct but on second thought was unsure if it was true.
"Actually I'm not." Allison shook her head. Even if it cost her relationship in the long run. It was inevitable but it could have gone so much worse and violent and deadly.
"Good." Stiles said thoughtfully than added smugly "That's- I like that you said that. First 100% honest thing you've said in this study group."
"Thanks," she snorted delicately, laughing she flipped over some pages in a notebook remembering that they were in fact supposed to be studying. She noticed the way his eyes glanced at his phone without touching it, as if expecting it to hop up at him and give off some sort of great announcement. "You didn't come here to just study either. You don't have to pretend to be an idiot just to try and get on Lydia's study group."
"Hey, I'll have you know I am not pretending at anything!" Stiles thrust a finger in the air to punctuate his statement. "I just think it's rude to not reply to a guy after he leaves you a few- 9 million texts."
"I think I'm not the only one who has to work out their trust issues," Allison didn't look up from the notebook she flipped through, obviously not reading. Stiles looked to her curiously. "I mean if there's anything yesterday taught us, it's that relationships based on secrets only leads to more secrets. And how stable is that. It's horrible isn't it?" she rolled her eyes indelicately to punctuate her point, then gave a gentle smile, "honesty is pretty hard but it's stable."
"You... are a jerk." Stiles shook his head at her in dismay and dropped a textbook on top of his cellphone so that it might stay out of sight as he went on to pretend to study along with her. "What is it you're pretending not to know?"
Allison shrugged, looked up from a notebook, handed it to him and asked him to quiz her. He refused. She insisted and said if he quizzed her for 10 minutes she would answer his questions.
"She can get disconnected sometimes when she's working things out. You guys are just worrying her so much," finally she answered sympathetically. He breathed out, a huff in offense. "But you more than most. Now, 10 more minutes," she then insisted.
Stiles mock-gasped in exasperation with the academic blackmail she held over his head, the goddamn useful academic blackmail the horrible Hunter-lady was using. He never knew a lady as sinister as that.
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Track 10 - Leave A Trace by CHVRCHES
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The sports teams had free reign of BHHS on the weekend and Kira intended to take full advantage of it. Not just because Coach Helisek felt her growing team spirit was the best kept secret their athletic department had in years (which he was eager to exploit and quite vocal about) but because the more awkward her parents were around her since the roadside accident days earlier, she was looking for every excuse to get out of the house.
So, Sunday morning, even though there wasn't a formal track team meet up, Helisek told her she could use the track to run if she liked, since the lacrosse team would be on the field for practice and the facilities would be open. Kira was welcome to hang around in case it sparked any more team spirit on her part. It hadn't occurred to Kira that she might even have forgotten her whole predicament with her weird crazy escalating abilities if it hadn't been for the boys' voices drifting through the wall into the rather empty girl's locker room bristling with business. But it wasn't the same as her secretive parents or being blown off by Jackson. Hearing Scott McCall joking around and laughing nervously at the jibes of his teammates, (reminder, lower ranked teammates since he was the Co-Captain) it totally distracted her on the track. She enjoyed running. Like really, REALLY enjoyed running but she had to remember to curb her growing speed and ability when she was so distracted with watching the team that she sped right off the track and tripped head over heels into the shrubbery at the edge of the field. Figures super speed didn't come with super brakes.
After that, it just made sense to go over to the field end where the team practiced and outright watch before she really made a bigger mess of things. She didn't bother to change out of her track suit, only tugged on a hoodie and lightly jogged toward them in an attempt to catch McCall's eye without being too obvious. She wondered if it was too soon to cash in on talking privately. From the bright-eyed grin Scott flashed her before being knocked over by a teammate Kira could only assume as much. Not only did super speed not come with super brakes, it did not come with the super ability to stop being clumsy.
Coach Flinstock was furious at her for being a distraction while Coach Helisek was delighted she was in attendance. (Under these circumstances, Assistant) Coach Helisek insisted she stay and behind the benches and where players came back and forth switching off and checking their equipment. Soon enough Scott made an excuse to run over to her, grinning and all.
"Kira, you're here!" he said delightedly.
She froze, then said instead of hello, "you remembered my name."
Scott looked baffled then fumbled onto the bench in front of her and pretended there was something wrong with his shoes, tying and retying them. "Of course I did. Aside from the couple of classes we've got together there was, you know, the incident in the woods."
"Of course!" she flushed, embarrassed and shook her head, rubbing her head in dismay. "This is just really a lot to take in."
Scott froze and read something of frustration in her embarrassment, "Did you think I would pretend not to know you? Like-" he made a fluttering hand gesture to make it seem like something blew away in the breeze.
After a regrettable moment, she finally, nodded in honest uneasiness.
"Oh," he said then sat a bit upright, forgetting the guise of tying his shoes. Flinstock yelled something about talking to his girlfriend later, which he forgot to remember to intentionally ignore and just didn't hear. "I wouldn't do that," Scott stated frankly.
"Me neither," she agreed quickly to have something to say back before she realized there wasn't really a need to say anything back. True to his word he seemed to not mind her presence very much at all despite knowing something was deeply wrong with her. Kira's smile slid from shy to tight, "Coach is coming this way."
Scott didn't look away but his back got stiff as a rod, "can you stick around after practice?"
She nodded briskly and drew further and further back terrified as Coach loomed overhead. Kira definitely saw the advantages to controlling their special abilities with the way Scott dodged the Coach's swing to his head and even the brilliant throws toward other teammates. And Kira saw the restraint Scott had when handing off shots to other players when he could very well have made the goal himself.
If she couldn't even manage to run a straight line Kira wondered how it was he could manage running among so many other players, among so much adrenaline and not mess up. Until he did. It shouldn't have been super surprising. How had she forgotten Jack Whittemore was the other Co-Captain of the Cyclones or that he, like she and McCall were something special and they were not exactly the most reliable when it came to self-control. But yeah, there it was, suddenly there was a skirmish on the field, McCall on one end of it Whittemore on the other. And a wild lacrosse ball came flying into the stands.
Kira was too terrified to think of what to do which was fortunate because had she stopped to think she wouldn't have had her instincts to rely on. The same instincts that had her yank up a lacrosse stick from the heap of equipment beside her and flip it in her left hand to stand up right and catch the fly ball one handed before it struck the face of Lydia Martin where she sat two rows behind her, innocuously taking stats down on her phone.
The reactions all around her were a mixed bag; Scott looked grinning with pride, Jackson looked startled to find her even in attendance, Coach Helisek cheerfully turned to Flinstock and said "see, I told you." To which Coach Flinstock responded by shouting at her "Hey! Have you ever played Lacrosse before!?" Lydia's glare was probably the most telling, as it came with a seat change, in that she actually moved two rows nearer and said nothing at all.
Kira dropped the stick in alarm, shook her head in reply to Coach Flinstock's question, gulped a number of times and then dropped silently onto her bench beside Lydia, determined to will herself back to the invisibility of just one week earlier.
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Track 11 - Teenage Rhythm by GRMLN
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"Hey!" Jackson called to Isaac, despite Isaac's actively expressed attempts to ignore him. "Looks like your boyfriend's cheating on you." The titters around him bothered Isaac more than they should have. Isaac knew Jackson wasn't involved with his attack the day before. At least his brain knew that.
But his nerves knew something else entirely. Isaac wanted very much to be a team player but their team was becoming fractured. Not just the lacrosse team, which was becoming this split of people who enjoyed being vicious brutes and other, you know, rule followers. But off the lacrosse field there was a split, Werewolves and Non-Werewolves which was weird because Isaac was not 100% certain where his loyalties lie.
Sure, Isaac grew up with Stiles, but Stiles was pretty much loyal to himself first and then there was Allison who was a fighter for all the people she loved and she just happened to love Werewolves. Then there was Scott who was great to him and Lydia who could be horrible to him but they both made him feel welcome, in their own way, when no one else did. Not to mention he just died so Isaac didn't exactly have a category onto himself, not to mention his "Gift" at a second chance of life came with the torment of reliving the act of dying every time he tried to sleep. Suffice to say, things were pretty crappy in his head and when they left the McCall's in the early AM's he thought burning out his frustrations on the lacrosse field would be ideal but he hadn't account for Jackson. Or for all the resentment Isaac carried for the lizard-man even if Jackson didn't remember whatever he did in his Kanima form, he still did bad, bad things.
In Isaac's restless conflicted brain, it validated his carnal urge to rip out Jackson's throat, even if there were like 20 or so witnesses.
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"Scott!" Lydia screamed in demand, looking toward the field.
Without hesitation Scott swung around in the direction of her eyeline and raced, too late toward where Isaac threw himself at Jackson. But amidst a field filled with other lacrosse players. With Jackson's dodging instead Isaac launched himself at Danny. At the last moment Jackson grabbed hold of his best-friend's right arm and yanked him, hard out of the line of fire and threw him out of the range of harm. Jackson turned back to Isaac and jumped him from behind, punching at his still helmeted head, hard enough to leave a dent. Several other students tried to stop them but were only thrown back, when Scott arrived, he tackled Jackson and pinned his arms behind his back and screamed at Isaac to stop, screaming his name with such force everyone around them shuddered.
Lydia and Kira watched on gasping.
"Did you see that?" Lydia asked.
"Lydia," Kira said candidly "I think everyone saw that."
Lydia gave her an irritated glare, not a hurtful one just a disappointed on before she ran around the bench and onto the field.
Kira watched on, biting her lip. She maintained her ground and even stepped back a few feet. She didn't have the balls to go nearer, for fear that somehow she too would be exposed.
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"I should suspend you!" Flinstock yelled into Isaac's face. "The both of you!"
"Coach!" Scott protested, standing shoulder to shoulder with Isaac "I wasn't even here!"
"Exactly," he raged, "What sort of Captain takes all the glory but none of the responsibility?"
"Coach," Jackson broke in, he interrupted, his tone surprisingly tenderly "it was my fault. I goaded him. I injured Danny." He looked over toward where Coach Helisek, their resident expert in sports' injuries tended to Danny and Jackson looked shamefaced.
Isaac and Scott looked to one another in disbelief. There was no way anyone would believe Jackson's story and yet - "fine."
Coach shook his head in dismay. In a rare moment of earnestness, "look, I appreciate teammates sticking together but you can't just turn on each other because you've had a tough couple of days. We need each other out there. We need each other's backs because pretty soon we're going to be facing off some real assholes. Can't you save the murderous impulse for them?" after an awkward pause he added, "or at least try?"
"Sure Coach." They agreed in an awkward off-beat almost unison.
"Meanwhile," Flinstock hesitated and looked amongst the three of them, "McCall would you get the hell out of here so I can deal with these two nitwits!"
"Oh," Scott balked and after casting Isaac a glance of sympathy he bolted from the scene.
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"Danny," Lydia called out as she dropped to her knees beside him.
He groaned in discomfort as he rolled onto his back. The Coach tried to take more of his gear off but Lydia had much more experience than he did pulling off a player's uniform. Sure enough, as she expected Coach Helisek's review from his brief examination of the bruising and Danny's responses "I think your shoulders been separated. But it's a good thing your friend pulled you out of harm's way when he did. It looked like Lahey would have taken your head off at the speed he was going."
"Yeah," Danny said disgruntledly.
"Yeah," Lydia responded thoughtfully, familiar with the sort of injury she had just seen delivered she had an idea of how to treat it. "Let me help you home. Trust me, you're going to want to keep it immobile and put this on it," she squeezed to activate the instant ice pack she withdrew from her purse. Danny gave her a suspicious look to remind he would ask later why she would carry medical supplies in her purse but she ignored it. Instead she handed it off to Helisek with the explanation (not for the first time) that she 'had a lot of practice with these sort of injuries lately.'
"It's going to get pretty bad in the next couple of hours," Helisek put light pressure on the exact placement, while putting Danny's hand over it guiding him to keep it in place. With that he helped Danny to stand with Lydia hovering beside him. With a comforting grin he looked between the two "you should be thankful to your friends though."
"Yeah," Danny said little above a groan as he shambled along to the benches.
"Not just her." Helisek looked across toward where Flinstock reamed Isaac and Jackson new assholes. "As much as the bruising sucks, in the long run you'll be thankful to Whittemore for saving your life in the morning," with that he petted Danny on his good shoulder, asked if Lydia could take care of him for a bit. She insisted emphatically that she would.
"You just love this whole damsel in distress dynamic we have going on," Danny tried to smirk but mostly sneered with pain as she helped him to his feet.
"Oh, obviously." She grinned investing in his charm and her goodwill to resist the disturbing realization that Jackson had to have saved her life at the pool. And worse yet, considering Jackson's memory gaps he probably didn't even know he had done so.
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Track 12 - Human Nature by Gauntlet Hair
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"You stayed!" Scott said relieved. He half jogged toward where Kira paced a slow and meandering path toward the locker rooms.
"Yeah," she hugged her arms to her. He looked mostly relieved to see her. The rest of him looked smattered with bruises and blades of grass caked in mud. "I wasn't sure that I should," she said low in secretive tones despite there being no one near.
They looked around and then he smiled nervously, "you didn't have to if you didn't want to, but I'm glad you did."
She sighed with relief, deeply enough to sage a little. Her hands dropped to her side and she nodded thoughtfully, "I'm glad I stayed. I wanted to ask you if you were okay."
"Sure," he said as if her question were ridiculous. "I heal pretty quickly." Then it was his turn to look around anxiously. He particularly stopped to note how far off people like Isaac and Lydia were from where they spoke. And since he felt it wasn't far enough he gestured for her to follow him.
A few moments later they reached the equipment shed behind the bleachers that only maintenance accessed before and after official games.
It hadn't occurred to him the door would be locked. Kira's disappointment read clear on her face but something inside Scott, something that wanted to both show off and show that he could be trusted convinced himself it was totally cool to use a bit of his extra strength to maybe pull the door open anyway. He hadn't meant to rip the knob off but that's just how it goes sometimes.
"Wow," Kira said in the dark when he closed the door behind them, "do you think I can do that too?"
"Probably," Scott confessed and quickly realized he was in over his head. "That is if you're like me."
"Like you, how?" she stepped back, not exactly afraid but unsure enough that she needed room to give him space to explain himself.
The shed was small and made of shelf space that carried nets, goalie bars and LED floodlights sandwiching aluminum benches tight enough make sound reverberate around them. It should have been suffocating but somehow, the sounds of them together and alone cut the world away and made it easier to click.
Scott took a deep breath, closed his eyes and steeled himself as best he could. He had only really done this before when things were intense. He had only been able to tap into some primal strength when he had lost control of his emotions, when he had felt really angry or really excited or just really, REALLY. But in the back of Scott's mind he felt right now it really mattered to him and it really mattered to this girl, to gain her trust and it really mattered to gain control for himself. He reached inside, searched in his core and imagined every cell in his body circulating and understanding them at once and maybe, just maybe commanding them instead of having them commanded. He dug his nails into the palm of his hands and from that point of pain outward and reset the focus of control and ran his sense of self to know he was both animal of man and that was perfectly okay.
When Scott opened his eyes again he could sense they had colored but he felt entirely in control, he didn't feel claws or fangs but he saw the world vibrant and bright in the dark.
"ohh," Kira stared wide-eyed stepping forward instead of further back. "Wow," she came forward with a hand outstretched, then snatched her hand back retaking control of her impulse.
Exhausted, Scott blinked and shook off the effects of change as though it were smoke or fog filling up the room.
"So cool," Kira smiled brightly over at him. She suddenly thought of something that caused her to close off and after a moment she reached into her hoodie pocket. "I want you to see something, too" she explained as she took a step forward, fingers clenched even as she handed over her Nokia.
Whatever reaction Scott was expecting, he hadn't expected Kira wanting to take a selfie with him. But her smile was shaky just like his confidence so Scott followed her lead as she brought his hands up to point at her. "I want you to use the flash," in her own shy way she was insistent he take a photo of her as she stepped back and back again until her back hit the shelves. The flash in the dark left strobes behind his eyelids for a few seconds but he could hear Kira's breath speed up in the dark. She reached to touch the cellphone where it met his hands.
When Scott's vision settled her gentle expression hardly matched the sense of nervousness she bristled of. A dizzying fear of rejection, that familiar sensation that follows conversion.
"I'm going to show you something no one else has ever seen," and her fingertips brought up the image on the phone, unfiltered and immediate only she looked outlined by flames. The benches, like the sound in the room resonated with her presence.
"cool," Scott breathed out. She wasn't just cool she was remarkable but Scott didn't know the words with which to say that thing.
Kira laughed shakily, in relief followed by a rushed explanation that this had been happening since the storm the other night "I don't know what causes it."
"You were in the storm then this started?" Scott hid his disappointment as he handed her back the phone. So she wasn't like him. After admitting to Stiles that original sense of longing to share his transformative experience then the guilt that followed when he saw the hurt Lydia experienced. In Kira he found someone recently changed who found boundless fascination in her change but once more his connection was denied. She was made to cast light in the dark while wolves were made of only shadows.
"What's wrong? I can tell something is wrong. Is something wrong with me?" she asked, her worry ignored his head shake.
Scott laughed then placed a stilling hand on her shoulder to sincerely apologize for laughing at her. "So, you can sense emotion too?"
Kira shrugged uncomfortably, but very minutely to not shake off his hand. "I can tell more and more when people are off if that's what you mean. I just thought it was because everyone around me was... you know, weird."
"Weird?"
Her mouth twitched slowly into a smile, "like half the lacrosse team feels weird to me now. Or is that just me being suspicious?"
Unsure of how to answer, Scott said nothing. He just gave her shoulder another pat for confidence sake, mostly his while he tried to figure out where to start his story.
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Track 13 - Hold On by Ponderosa
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Deputy Clarke understood that sometimes the Chief withheld things. She understood that sometimes certain files stood on his desk longer than the average file and sometime there were certain files that went home which probably shouldn't. But what she absolutely did not understand were times when she was expected to file reports that read; "Non-specific animal interface affected the lower lay electrical. Leading to the city wide blackout." Not when she knew for a fact that there were no signs of animals relating anywhere near the source site, otherwise there would have been animal corpse or burnt fur and claw marks or something. Not to mention the only animal sighting were 8 miles up the road on the highway, safely blocking traffic and by one of their own.
But then the inspection experts and clean-up crew handed in their report Sheriff Stilinski said to file it without hesitation. He ordered it without even reading it over, in fact he okayed it over the phone.
There were eccentricities and there were just outright wrongs and she was pretty sure this was getting to the point where she could no longer take it.
The cockiness of the cleaner, a man named Axel as he offered to help stay on and clear up the crash site was enough to crack a crown from how hard she ground down on her teeth.
"No thank you," she said, barely keeping her restraint.
"What was that?" Axel asked unpleasantly, his voice demanding not just of her station but of her small stature compared to broad and sturdy one.
Behind the counter Deputy Clarke's hand went to her gun on instinct.
"She said no thank you," Sheriff Stilinski repeated coming through the double doors into the station. He looked harried and unshaven and ready for a fight. "Tell your boss we appreciate the offer but leave it to the professionals."
They kept their positions and watched the large-ish man back off and slink away. Even after he had gone Stilinski insisted Clarke file the incorrect report. She kept her question listed and ready to fire until he closed his office door behind them.
When the Chief turned on the light, he moved past the overhead and only turned on the desk lamp exposing a whirlwind of paperwork instead of his ready-set file system. Her expression demanded and he received it with a slow nod. Somehow through his unrest he was able to clearly explain his suspicion there was a mole in the works.
"See here," he insisted and showed her going back the last two weeks, evidence logged but missing. Photos scanned but stolen. Misreported incident and conflicting evidence.
Deputy Clarke sat motionless, staring across the desk at this man best known for enforcing the law and here he was performing a deliberate unsanctioned act of entrapment.
"Do you think it's someone at the station?" she asked, eyes dark with outrage, not directed at the Chief but at someone who would bring him down so low.
"Whoever it is, they have access to this station. High-level access, that's for certain," he shook his head, eyeing through the misreport now logged into the system and wondered at how it differed from the evidence he already collected onto his board at home. "I want to see what they're up to before I pull the carpet out from under them."
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Track 14 - I Don't Know Why by Valen
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Despite the option of leaving with the first faction of students, imperturbably Allison and Stiles sat on for the second cram-sessions skipping over lunch entirely.
"Things around here have been a little crazed," anxiety caused Allison to flip through her pages a little fast. "Sorry. I'm sure it's not the home-coming you dreamed of."
Stiles shrugged, and with a smirk admitted "just your average everyday telenovela."
She stopped and propped her chin up on the palm of her hand, her look turned introspective. "Things got carried away. Maybe if we knew ahead of time there could have been a tickertape parade."
"Nah," with his lips pursed in concentration Stiles barely glanced up from where he continued scrolling through his cellphone, "maybe I might have been smart enough to go undercover before the big Werewolf reveal. Or at least not to do it at all."
Allison pursed her lips mildly annoyed but mostly amused. "Well, you've got a smart mouth, which is much better."
That caught Stiles up short and when he looked up across the table he saw her expression and matched it. "It's like you've known me forever."
They dragged their chairs further under the table, scraping their hard wood chairs against the tiled floor to bring them nearer even through the table to be heard better, all pretense abandoned.
"I know you enough to know you're up to something. If I ask-?" she taunted with a cheeky grin. His eyes narrowed in mischief.
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Track 15 - Secret Door by Arctic Monkeys
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"I am," he stated cockily "creating a convincing paper trail to support our backstory." Stiles displayed his cellphone screen with a bit of pride in his voice. Her brow rose with interest before she took the bait and reached for the incriminating item. Stiles waved back and forth in front of her like a baby's rattle until she snatched it from him. "Now, that I've got my Dad's Law enforcement access into the County records it'll be easier than ever before."
After a moment reviewing his notations, while tilting the cellphone for better view Allison abandoned all pretense, stood and walked around the table to drop down in the seat beside him. Stiles shot upright, startled at her nearness then ducked low to tuck his head beside her to look at the small screen of his Samsung.
"You don't seem to have a problem with messing with the public record," she said critically, handing the item back. "Not your first time?"
"Or even the third," Stiles' itchy fingers still fumbled to grab at the phone even in such close range. He tried to play it as aloof, she rolled her eyes and messed with her belongings on the table, giving him the good graces to get himself situated securely back on his chair. Only then did Stiles explain, "Isaac made a mess of his transcript to get in here. I can't fix that but I can make it easier for him to land."
"So, that's it," Allison slouched back into her seat, and touched her lower lip in consideration. Her voice sounded steady but with a little more criticism than before. "You just look into everyone's lives like that," it wasn't a question so Stiles didn't pretend it needed answering. Allison mentioned before that they were too much alike, now it seemed she wanted only to pull on threads of that theory.
After a moment of Stiles saying nothing she nudge over her tablet and flipped it open with the City/State Records website upended with the CIA access available for their ready use. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his jaw and pretended for a moment he wasn't going to jump at the chance to use her Hunter family's marginally further reaching credentials. This time Allison held the item steady so his twitchy hands had no chance of fumbling as they went to work rewriting Isaac & Stiles' historic arrival.
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Track 16 - Requiem For Blue Jeans by Bastille
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Once more finding himself in the shower without remembering how he had gotten there, Jackson understood something else troubling had happened. In the very back of his mind he could still hear Coach's voice and the indiscernible shouts from teammates. But the only sense of clarity he felt came with the hot stream of shower water that burned back what felt to him like scales of reptile he knew slithered underneath.
There was a difference between accountability and guilt and he couldn't feel guilt for something he didn't remember doing but he felt accountable for whatever happened to Danny, for whatever gained him the dirty looks and murmurs the other players, like Lahey threw his way. Not that he didn't glare back in their general direction creating a bit of crowd control and to get them to "Step Off!" with very little effort.
Even after the rest slipped from the showers and after dressing he held back, he moved toward doors of the Coaches' office, toward the shape of Helisek and Danny talking terms.
Through the little dingy door from the office into the locker rooms showed surprise, not upset on Danny's face before he pushed it wide open.
"Hey," he said seeming not at all troubled by the sight of Jackson. And before his best-friend could start with some stuttering explanation or apology Danny tossed him his sneakers and helmet. "Help me get out of the rest of this would you?"
It was obvious from the tiny groan he gave off when reaching to open his locker, that Danny would have trouble changing his clothes. He moved stiffly and had a hand to his right shoulder, a placement like the reverse of performing the pledge of allegiance.
"Sure," Jackson nodded and quickly got to his feet. He helped pull Danny's Jersey upward from the hem at his waist and moved with such gentle precision, it became obvious after a moment the slowness was causing more pain. Both in muscle stiffness and in Danny's shrinking patience. After tossing the Jersey to the bottom of the locker and a curious look he got from Danny, Jackson cleared his throat, remembering himself and went to something near his regular cocky tone. "Look, I'm happy to help my friend out of some act of atonement but if this is a come on, I've told you before, you're not my type."
Despite his tone, Jackson still hesitated to help slide Danny's bad arm through the sleeve of his t-shirt.
"Just do it," Danny looked over at him. He gave a small tight lipped smile, prepared for the pain. Then he added in jest to lightened the mood and remind of their familiarity in one another. "Oh, and FYI: I'm everyone's type."
Jackson gave a dry laugh and this time around he was quicker at helping Danny pull his t-shirt on overhead. Getting his jeans on was no less clumsy but somehow easier. Their words came easier as well.
"So what, you flung me around like a rag doll," Danny went on. His words were lighthearted but between his sore arm and sore feelings he seemed a little off. "I could have moved out of the way. Probably."
Jackson knew from experience what it was like to make excuses for your shortcomings on the field. It wasn't just that you didn't want to come off as weak. It was that you didn't want to let down your team mates, you didn't want to let down your Captain... or Co-Captain. Or in this case your best-friend.
"You're being ridiculous," Jackson grabbed up Danny's backpack for him before he could think to ask or argue. "Are you trying to say you let me beat you up for the good of the team? That's a load of shit. And you better not do something like that on the day of a game because it could cost us more than moral." Jackson took the lead and opened doors for Danny leading the way toward student parking. He knew this wasn't exactly taking accountability but he wanted to lead Danny to blaming him first, he wanted Danny to be mad.
"If something like this happened on a game day you could have ended up with more than friendly fire," Jackson went on.
"That's a funny way to put it," Danny stopped short. He stayed in the middle of the hallway, letting Jackson hold the door open but with a hand out, his good hand insisting Jackson give back his backpack. It rang too true the term that Jackson hurt Danny so thoroughly that even trying to make it right felt like making it worse.
When Danny got the bag back, he twisted the strap around his wrist instead of pulling it up onto his shoulder, like he weighed the options around him. He finally said in a flat voice "I wasn't afraid if that's what you're worried about. I mean, I'm not mad or anything."
Danny looked up and his eyes were kind, tired but kind and Jackson felt injured by that too.
"Come on, be a little mad," Jackson insisted.
Danny gave a tired laugh. "The ground was a mess man. And your instincts were just quicker than mine. Yeah, I could have tried to move out of the way but I wouldn't have made it. This-" he glanced toward his shoulder to keep from gesturing or shrugging and exacerbating the injury "- is a lot better than a concussion or a spinal fracture or worse."
Moving through the door and around Jackson's kind gesture Danny made his way outside, this time Jackson followed quietly in step. He waited to hear exactly what it was that happened when his mind went under the surface and only the lizard instincts took control.
"When you act like a prick, whether it's trying to scare off my man or tear out my arm, you're still you." Danny looked back toward Jackson, gave him a once over from top to bottom and back again. He rolled his eyes, amused at something Jackson obviously found daunting and Danny found amusing. "Under all the fitted t-shirts and 5lbs of hair products is my best-friend trying to protect me. Which is a pretty great guy, you just got to figure out how to rein it in."
"Maybe," Jackson grunted, not believing a thing Danny said, despite knowing him not to be a liar. Despite listening for a jump in his heart rate and hearing none. "Or maybe I'm just really good at wearing a disguise."
Danny laughed at that then stopped short. Jackson stepped beside him instinctually, ready to protect his friend only to find it was his best-friend protecting him from the sight of his ex waiting not far off. Lydia leaned against the side of Danny's car, obliviously tapping away on her phone but still the sort of thing Jackson was never ready to take head-on, and Danny knew it.
"I'm not the only one who thinks it," Danny said smugly and jerked his head toward her direction, the implication that Jackson could ask her if he wanted verification. Jackson responded with a glare to which Danny grinned at.
"Look," Jackson said with authority and finality in his voice, "I just mean I can be dangerous. If I'm coming in your direction-" he wasn't so specific as to mean on or off the field but Danny rolled his eyes at the suggestion he might be in harm's way.
"Look," Danny imitated Jackson's tone, "you want to keep me safe? Just aim for the other team."
Jackson's chin jutted, as he smirked in reply rather than rising to the bait of bickering. He had been waiting for the moment when Danny would take on the tone of better-then-thou-best-friend. While he wished it were true only time would tell whether or not Danny was right.
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Track 17 - Glad You Came (The Wanted Cover) by Arden Cho and David Kater
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While sneaking back out of the shed and noticing the empty field, Scott reconsidered exactly where he was in the state of things. Kira's anxiety and excitement circulated like something contagious throughout his cells but when she asked him not to tell then and only then did it feel like something wrong.
"I don't think that that's okay," he said pressing the door closed behind them. It didn't stay no matter how many times he pressed it into place.
The field was empty around them. They were left behind, like no one really cared to scrutinize them anyway. Earlier the idea of being alone in his evolution agonized him. He had Allison to guide him through earlier stages which was great and it was getting easier to bring things into focus if he felt like he needed to. But Scott wasn't sure if he could do that for someone else, or if he should do that for someone else without an experienced group group of friend to lean on.
Made evident by their weird act of tip-toeing across an emptying field, they shouldn't feel the need to keep secrets, to make themselves feel nervous when there wasn't even a need.
"I don't really have all the answers Kira," Scott stressed. "I'm just figuring out what I can do, my friends are helping me. They can help you."
Kira looked uncertain when she nodded. "If you trust them..."
"Absolutely!" he started, imagining in the back of his mind the reason to approach Allison finally revealing itself. Relief seeped through his mind as a smile twice as wide spread across his face.
"I mean, if they're special like us," she said considering his friends she remembered on the field earlier in the day. She looked directly in his eyes trying to convey her confidence and muster up trust in him, though she wasn't sure how she felt. But she wondered and admitted "they've got to have something to say, right?"
"I guess you're right. My friends, since they're like us maybe they have more experience," he should have expected this. It was the same expectation everyone had when they realized Lydia was a Banshee, that their Werewolf friends should instinctively know more. It hadn't occurred to him that Kira would block out an average person, not that she knew she laid the mental smack down on access to Allison.
And it was definitely too early in their friendship to explain something like Hunters to her.
Lost in thought they fell into step besides one another walking along the halls to the locker rooms and he hadn't heard her suggestion or noticed her text him the photos of her Kitsune effects. Once he received them, he still marveled over the image. It snapped him out of his selfishness and reminded of the seriousness they were trying to work out.
"So it's okay if I forward this to my best-friend?" he whispered to her, looking up from his phone.
Kira sat down on the steps; she expected him to say something like that but it was still hard to hear. She shrugged and though she struggled to smile, her eyes were somehow unafraid.
· Got Questions? Tell no one.
Scott sent it on to Stiles with the briefest, vaguest message knowing the intrigue would keep Stiles in check. Then dropped to sit beside Kira on the step. Scott stared at her for a long moment and said nothing before putting an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
"You're brave," he said as a matter-of-fact.
"I'm a freak," Kira hesitated before she said, matter-of-factly.
After a moment of watching her face, Scott nodded and gave her shoulders a squeeze, "let's be freaks together. It'll be great."
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Track 18 - The Listening by LIGHTS
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"I think this whole damsel in distress thing is your kink," said Danny with a wince after struggling to keep the cool façade when his arm spiked with pain at every step.
"No, I definitely think it suits you," Lydia said. She stood upright, from where she leaned against the side of Danny's car.
Anticipating his difficulty to drive Lydia insisted on his keys, with an extended hand and cocky expression she wasn't taking no for answer. Truth be told Danny wasn't taking anything less than a chauffeured escort home after such a display of loyalty to his school. Having Lydia as a companion was an extra treat.
"I gotta say it was a surprise to see you out supporting the team, especially at a practice," Danny said.
"Go, Go Cyclones. Blow away the competition," she answered dully helping lock the seatbelt behind him rather than over his bad shoulder. To which Danny laughed dryly.
"You almost had your head knocked off," Danny noted when she dropped into the driver's seat.
She nodded and turned the car on without strapping into her seatbelt. It would have ached her as well and she didn't want to bring it up.
"You almost had your arm ripped off. I guess you can say it definitely wasn't the most boring practice to show up for," she looked over at him with a playful smirk, even though the car was on she didn't move. Danny glanced down at where her purse lay wedged between them and remembered her readiness for his injury. His brow furrowed though grinning mildly in return. He could make out the bottle of painkiller and another icepack wedge among her belongings.
"Lydia, are you okay?" Danny asked.
After hesitation, she then returned the car to park. "No," Lydia answered finally and quietly, "are you?"
"No," he answered his smile lengthened a little, then asked for a painkiller and she didn't hesitate to share. He asked again why she came to practice and she admitted she wanted to check in on Jackson.
Lydia turned further to look toward Danny but this time she turned her neck, she pulled back her shirt's collar to show bruising similar to his.
Danny leaned back in his seat in surprised and immediately regretted it. After a second or two he looked again, while she told the story or a mildly edited version of how she (nearly) drowned the day before. And how some rescuer came, yanked her to safety and took off. Danny's confirmation of another one Jackson's unexplained disappearances when he was supposed to be volunteering in the library.
"He's getting worse," she said factually.
"He's just disconnecting," Danny's expression seemed to disagree. "Even if he does his stupid disappearing acts, he does these sudden appearing acts too. Don't you see, he would never do anything to hurt us. It's like he can't help it. You'd think it's steroids or something."
It wasn't only the consideration of Jackson that brought Lydia to the stands that day, it was the sight of him, watching the way he looked around afterward toward Danny writhing on the floor like he wasn't in focus- it was the same expression Jackson had when she found him in her bedroom late Monday night touching her jacket, wondering after her the night she found Stiles' hovel and the game had gone to shit. It seemed Jackson would always be compelled to care for them no matter how far the Kanima's claws dug into him.
"Or something," Lydia answered, the thought didn't give her the relief she thought it would, it tortured her instead.
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Track 19 - New Skin (Shaking Through) by Torres
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"You know data isn't people's lives, Allison." Stiles said snappishly, without looking up from a text he received from Scott. When he did, his temperament mellowed. He looked considerately, a searching expression and faster speech. "Lives are the options, resulting in inevitable action, leading to endless collating data. Just ask my Dad's murder-board."
"That. Sounds. Stimulating." Allison punctuated her sentenced partly with sarcasm and partly because of distraction. She overlooked his hacking work as though she were an expert to the task, which she probably was.
There was a little feeling of possessiveness that rolled through Stiles' belly with Allison's practice of sarcasm, as well as pride. He leaned back into his seat and gnawed a little at his thumbnail.
Further engaged, he decided to take up an invisible challenge that had been rattling in his brain for a while, so vied for her attention.
"Yeah, it is revealing. Like, how you your family bought the house in the summer after the first Werewolf death but only moved in 1 day after the first Omega died. Like their interest had finally been piqued... that happened to be around the day before school started. In a totally non-suspicious manner."
Allison put her tablet down forcefully and rolled her eyes before turning fully toward him.
"What does that correlate to, exactly?" she said struggling to keep her voice low and tone civil.
"It isn't just that," he smiled, eyes bright and curious. "If you account for the past 2 lunar cycles where there's been an increase in reports of strange animal behavior. Birds flying into windows, terrified ungulates- hoofed animals running headlong into traffic, fish going to ground, pets attacking their owners and reports of large wolves migrating in broad daylight, straight along the coast. Easy to dismiss data if you're not looking. Culminating in Argent and Company sweeping in to buy up loads of property here. Real cheap to since rates are plummeting with all things living scuttling away."
Allison's mouth dropped open in offense of his ransacking her tablet. He'd taken a moment when her guard was down and he'd been trudging through not just the school's boring admin system, but her personal case-notes and using the school wi-fi he forwarded it to his cellphone which he displayed smugly.
"Look, I knew my family came here to investigate. That's important, but I don't know or understand what's going on." Allison smacked the offensive item away and glared at Stiles, staring down his smug expression self-assuredly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice went soft. "They're still investigating, Stiles. It's getting uglier. But if you think I knew Scott was going to be attacked? You think I would let something like that happen to him? To anyone?"
Stiles recalled the confidence with which Allison marched through the woods and lead them to safety the first day they met. How she had doubled-back despite knowing her family would be hunting them out in moments. Stiles now considered how that conflict must have torn Allison up, and how it was still tearing her up to push Scott away to keep him safe. Or how Allison had shared her family's secrets while asking nothing in return. Or the way Allison still tried to smile when she was afraid inside because she felt responsible for everyone's safety and livelihood, and because Stiles had never ever seen her use a weapon with intent to kill despite carrying the label of 'Hunter'.
"No, I don't actually." Stiles said reflexively. His odd little smugness didn't waver but it felt less sincere. "But I think your Family could have prevented it if they wanted to. The dates showed they have agendas within agendas. I've run across Argents before. Strike that, I've known to run away from Argents before. I'm not running from you. I'm here for you."
"Thanks." When Allison smiled her eyes closed on reflex, like it exhausted her to let go of so much hostility. Her voice was bolder, her smiled wider and brighter too when she asked, "will that show in the data?"
"Do you want me to scribble in your notebook '#StilesAndAllisonBFF4EVER' before the end of study hall?" Stiles eased back and laughed lightly, easily.
"Totally." Then after a pause she added, sincerely, "but what would Scott say?" Her mind would always turn to him.
"He'd say 'Awesome?" He answered, then tacked on "Now what would Lydia say?" After a pause he remembered his position. "If Lydia says anything these days?"
Allison reached out and petted Stiles' hand on the table, where he covered and protected his phone from further abuse. She shook her head pitiably before reminding, "Lydia, she's Lydia. She can say a lot with a little."
"Right now she is on the side of saying very little. Very, very little. She isn't even picking up the phone. I leave messages. She just ignores them."
"She isn't ignoring them. She just isn't answering," Allison poked and urged him to pick up his phone.
"What's the difference?" he groaned and lifted the offensive device. She mimed a gesture to 'Go ahead!' And while he looked through his text, sure enough every text read as received, read and unreplied to.
"Stiles, the difference is in the data." Allison said finally when he didn't catch on. "Stiles, if she really wanted to reject she would have blocked you."
The recognition hit Stiles with a little OH and he weighed his phone in consideration. Then attached to his earlier jealousy came the recognition "but she's replying to Scott. Is she texting you?"
Allison was reluctant to admit it but eventually did, "Just normal stuff. That she dropped out of Swim Team, to pick up her car, because she drove Danny home from practice, and recommending music or what to wear for a party. But if you bring up something real she has no time for it."
Interrupting their repertoire Allison got a text and it's the sort of thing that threw a gauntlet down. Stiles demanded she check it and even when she assured him it wasn't from Lydia, even though he heard her heart and sensed the truth he assumed she was lying.
"You guys are so alike," Allison laughed in a near bark collecting her things, shoving them into her bag as she prepared to at the end of the period. Stiles followed in step his glower burned a hole in her back and she took it as a badge of honor. "You're both fighting not to fight, which is part of the problem."
It was only after she said it that Allison realized this was where she weighed on the argument. She stopped at the bottom of the staircase and pulled Stiles between stacks of shelves. The newly restacked books stood looming as a reminder for them to keep a peace between them.
"Hunters, Werewolves; we're all weighing in on what happens next. Lydia doesn't feel like she has that right." As much as Allison obsessed on where she stood between her friends and her family, (to spy or not to spy) the recollection of Lydia standing in the rain on the curb outside of Tony's Diner haunted her. Lydia refused to return to come back to them because she felt there was no place for her at their table and it was as literal as it was a metaphor.
"That's ridiculous. She's got an invested interest. In fact, she's got the deciding vote. This crazed Monster Alpha's bite infected her, changed her and she can make him pay-" Stiles' voice rose along with his height as he edged up on his toes, looming over her unintentionally. Hisses from nearby patrons only got Stiles to hiss back at them to shut up.
"Stop, Stiles. Stop." Allison waved her hands between them, urging him to back off "I'm not going advocate Lydia to you." She stared at him for a long time, and after looking over the concern and hopelessness in his face she conceded. "But if I did I'd tell you to stop and put yourself where she's coming from."
"I'm following you so far," he nodded his head, a slow and intent bob of determined interest.
"For instance," she said slowly, intently, "I can put myself in your shoes and say the issue you need airing is 'how to deal with that Monster Alpha'."
Jerking back with a jolt, Stiles realized he brought it up the topic without bringing it up. And without an opportunity to highlight his recent revelations. The last time they had spoken about the Monster Alpha, Allison was concerned over whether or not the Monster Alpha could control any and all Betas. His mouth fell open with shock and bewilderment at not knowing where to begin and all over his face read distress over whether or not this was his place to say. Was he supposed to wait for Scott to tell Allison about the Monster being Scott's Alpha if the both of them weren't even talking? Was this a moment where Stiles should advocate for his best-friend? But Allison just continued trying to help Stiles reason out his insecurities with Lydia.
"Meanwhile she's screaming her head off but has yet to speak up for herself. Stiles, she's my best friend, my fiery outspoken best-friend who I'd never try to speak for, but I do understand some data you're just refusing to process." Allison saw his distress and though she misread its cause, she empathized with his condition and tilted her head to look at him intently, to guide him toward reason. "This thing didn't infect Lydia. You can't infect someone naturally immune, like a Banshee, which she always was. That is a fact you guys haven't accepted and it's why she doesn't want a deciding vote. She's just- isn't anything like you."
The double-whammy made Stiles' breath come in deep-deep draughts. He rubbed at his face before speaking again.
"Yeah but she's Lydia." He insisted, remembering she had survived this Monster Alpha alone already once. "She's never been 'like us' you know. She's been smarter, prettier, just better. That's why we need her. I guess, I see what you mean. I mean, I didn't see."
"This thing living or dying changes nothing for her." Allison insisted, hell even advocated strongly for someone who insisted she wouldn't advocate at all. "You guys talking about 'cures' and 'packs' alienates her. But confiding in friends might help her."
"She told you that?" Stiles brow went up critically.
"No." Allison replied smugly, "she doesn't have to."
"You've got us all figured out pretty well." He looked her up and down, and nodded. His voice was full and teasing when asked, "So then what's your issue?"
"I thought it was obvious," she said. Allison knew moments like these her heartbeat picked up a little, it was read as one thing while her mind went somewhere else. Thinking on the text she received a little earlier from Isaac, telling of everything he noticed and overheard in the locker room with Jackson obsessing over Danny's injuries. She felt spread thin, like a rubber band ready to snap and knew this was just the beginning. Let Stiles read it as worry over their best-friends, worrying over Monsters instead. While she sincerely wished and worried whether things could ever be that straightforward. "My issue is I have to protect Scott from my family but stay loyal to them. And it's probably going to get me killed."
While pressing his lips Stiles together considered this, it almost seemed like he could see through her but he blinked away his anxiety and smiled.
"You're a pretty good friend," he punched her lightly in the shoulder. She rolled her eyes at that and when she turned to lead them both away she made sure to butt her shoulder against his hard enough to knock him into a book shelf.
"Yeah, you're lucky we're BFF4EVER," Stiles said, his tone only mildly threatening while he rubbed his sore shoulder as he scrambled to catch up with Allison.
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Track 20 - Easily by Grimes
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"I'm still trying to figure out if I'm saving you or if you're saving me," Danny said a little groggily, while the painkillers worked their magic into his bloodstream.
After the epic re-telling of their meet-cute at dusk on a mountain top where his new boyfriend rescued him from potential predator "weirdos or mountain lions or something", Danny emphasized his need for a legit first date.
Lydia responded with a shrug as she pulled into the driveway of his home. Even though regular 'Parties' at her home were legendary, Lydia could hardly explain she didn't feel up to it because she hardly felt regular. A party would be a ready distraction, and it would be a slice of normal to look forward to at the end of this tunnel. If Danny wanted to put on a show for his boyfriend Ethan, she took it to mean he would co-host this circus which she was over the moon about.
"I just want to be myself and party for one night," she sighed and after some consideration she conceded to their deal. Leaning back into her seat she cast her bag an angry glare and squeezed it shut, closing off her medical supplies and obsessive notes.
Danny responded sagely with "Lydia gets what Lydia wants."
She laughed at that, and felt endlessly grateful for Danny's acceptance of her, of her crazy story and the Jackson they shared. And the regularness he expected of her despite everything as he casually suggested -"you know I could hook you up at the party."
"What? Finally going to share that perfect guy?" Lydia replied narrowing her eyes, and with pursed her lips.
"The twin, Aiden" he grinned.
Lydia considered it, very briefly and replied "Yes. Sounds perfect."
And when she helped Danny to his house, she left her phone in the car purposely because she would rather have her texts go unread than break the bubble of her peaceable normalcy.
Playlist Available - 8tracksDOTcom / bhanesidhe / 21-were-you-certain
CREDITS/ROLL CALL;
Argents - Team1; headed by Victoria, Chris & Allison.
· Rumy - [Sergeant] specialized in Recon; Special Forces and espionage. Chris' right hand man and Allison's godfather.
· Axel - [1st Lieutenant] expert tracker, marksman and Allison's 2nd cousin.
· Bennett - [Field Officer] specialized in Technical Intelligence, 19yrs. old and friend to Allison.
· Leveque - [Field Officer] specialized in Recon; Terrain-Orientation. Mechanics, driving countermeasures the means to mobilize heavy firepower to engage opposing forces including other combat vehicles.
· Ulrich - [Field Officer] specialized in Recon; Civil-Orientation.
Argents - Team2; headed by Kate.
· Livy - [1st Lieutenant] specialized in Recon; Force-Orientation, R.I.F. and close-combat expert with above average weapons training. Kate's right-hand man.
· Tyhurst - [Lieutenant] specialized in Recon; Civil-Orientation, Cyberwarefare, has CIA background and is ranked with state detective credentials. Referred to as 'try-hard.'
· Norm - [Sergeant] specialty in Medical Intelligence and as a Longbowman; an archer who uses the longbow, w/ various arrowheads. He' JR's brother and Roman's Uncle.
· Roman - [Field Officer] specialty as a Marksman/Sharpshooter, 19yrs. old and a weapons expert skilled in precision shooting. He's JR's son and Norm's Nephew.
· Fry - [Field Officer] specialty as a Tactician is and general officer, while his marksmanship is low he is still in high regard for his brain.
Argents - Team3; headed by Gerard.
Hale (Present Day) Pack; Derek Alpha
· Isaac - [Omega] abandoned Werewolf in search of a pack.
· Stiles - [Omega] on a personal quest for answers to what destroyed his family(s).
· (missing) Cora - [Beta] missing, presumed dead.
· (missing) Boyd - [Beta] as of the Alpha's massacre at the Mad River bend.
· (missing) Erica - [Beta] as of the Alpha's massacre at the Mad River bend.
Hale (Heyday) Pack; Talia Alpha
· Peter - [Beta] Talia's brother, Uncle to Derek, Laura and Cora.
· Laura (age 17) - [Beta] was last seen struggling between trying to pull survivors from the fire and defending her mother, Talia from her Uncle Peter's attacks.
· Derek (age 15) - [Beta] was pulled from the flames by his sister Laura and ushered to safety by their emissary… until the Treaty was made.
? Other;?
· Lydia - [Banshee] 'A Banshee screams preceding a supernatural death not as a premonition but to highlight the likelihood of supernatural events that result in deaths.' *chapter 8
· Jackson - [Kanima] characterized by claws that secrete venom which temporarily paralyzes their victims, a double row of sharp fangs, and a tail. Unless a Kanima resolves what in its past caused its mutation, it will eventually cocooned stage and emerge as a winged creature. Unlike a werewolf, a Kanima seeks out a master instead of a pack. It will carry out whatever vengeance its master bid. *chapter 12
· Jennifer Blake - [Kanima Master] *chapter 20
· Kira - [Kitsune] "There hasn't been a documented case of a fledgling Kitsune (manifesting attributes) this powerful, to carry a thunderstorm in her back pocket on a whim. Not in a hundred thousand years." *chapter18
Twins' Pack; Aiden and Ethan Carver Alphas
· Marta - [Beta] she's an older motor head and their #2.
· Bridy - [Beta] the packs' spy because she's diminutive and easily underestimated.
· Gus - [Beta] referred to as psychotic now and again, but his very few (and dwindling) close friends' are his touchstone.
· (missing) Luna - [Beta] a full Shapeshifter, bi and partnered to Naylor, formerly to Bozeman.
· (missing) Naylor - [Omega] partnered to Luna.
· (deceased) Deb - [Omega] former Alpha, killed by the Monster.
· (deceased) Coot - [Omega] former Beta, killed by the Monster.
Kali's Pack; Kali Alpha
· (missing) Marsten - [Beta] hot-headed #2, thief/tradesman & held captive in Fairvale.
· Lark - [Beta] she is a cousin to Kali and closely bonded to Huntington.
· Santos - [Beta] while loyal to Kali has mentored many, without regard to packs. He helped the Twins first learn to shift together without losing their identities.
· Ginger - [Beta] strong-willed and with a will to leave, romantically associated to Aiden.
· Levi - [Beta] he's neurotic mostly but has some anger issues.
· Huntington - [Beta] has strong empathic senses, is very good friends with Gus' from Twins' pack and Lark.
Ennis' Pack; Ennis Alpha
· Herveaux - [Beta] Ennis' #2, Werelynx from wiped out Shapeshifter dynasty.
· (dying) Dr. Kane - [Omega] both a medical Doctor and their torturer.
· (deceased) Quint - [Omega] eager to please teen and Dr. Kane's biological son.
Deucalion Pack; Deucalion Alpha
· Søren - [Beta] #2, Danish man of even temperament and a skilled negotiator until his temper is peaked.
· Jonsen - [Beta] she is Deucalion's partner.
· Nik - [Beta] thief in residence, Mac's daughter.
· Meyer - [Beta]
· Reíka - [Beta]
· (deceased) Mac - [Beta] former thief in residence, Nik's Mom & the Monster's 1st victim.