... Don't Get Turned into a Werewolf
Sometimes, when it seemed as though they were all going to die slow, agonizing, avoidable deaths, Emsy McCall liked to think back to the night she let Stiles Stilinski convince her to go with him to search for Laura Hale's body and wonder just how the hell she had missed all the signs that suggested that such an action was clearly a starting point for The Plot.
"Wait for me!" she said, hopping out of the jeep and slamming the door shut hard enough to make the window rattle. Stiles, with a sixth sense that extended only to Roscoe and never to anything of actual relevance, paused from his trotting across the preserve parking lot long enough to throw her a dirty look.
"Watch the baby," Stiles scolded, and ignored Emsy's muttered "Oh right, the baby." He went on. "See if you like riding your bike to school tomorrow then."
"You would not," Emsy said with confidence, catching up to him as he turned to step across the rope fence meant to keep idiot teenagers such as themselves out at night. Clearly, some reinforcements were needed.
"I would."
"Maybe," Emsy conceded, wrestling her flashlight out of her front hoody pocket, "but then Mom would have to wake early to take me, and she'll be very tired and grumpy, and do you really want to do that to the woman that brings the Sheriff such joy?"
Stiles paused for half a step. He looked back at her with narrowed eyes. "You're a manipulative little brat, you know that?"
She snorted. "That isn't shit compared to you and you know it."
He shrugged, knowing she was right and lacking the honor to defend himself. "Hurry up with the flashlight, will you?" he called over his shoulder as he started off again, leaving her to scurry after him with an indignant squawk.
"You know, I feel like this might not have been the best idea," she said. He scoffed, throwing his head back, and she tried to ignore the flush of annoyance that she felt when he didn't take her seriously. Maybe he sensed it, because he looked back, and made a face at her.
"You're the one that's always complaining that nothing ever happens in this town," he said, and Emsy wrinkled her nose because, no, no she was quite sure she never did. She was well aware that there was plenty going on in their seemingly quiet little town. She had journals upon journals hidden throughout her room each full of cut up and pasted newspaper articles and the corresponding notes jotted in the margins and between the lines as she tried to sort out what tragedy was plot relevant and which was just that, a tragedy. (She and Stiles had a field day with the local library's microfiche machine one Saturday to hunt them all down, to that day, the librarian eyed them warily when they visited.)
And while she wasn't certain she was actually right regarding the plot related tragedies, she could say with confidence that, second to perhaps only Sunnydale, Beacon Hills was at the top of the lists of Towns full of Bat Shit Crazy Shenanigans No One ever Notices.
She had no wish to add to it, no matter what the Universe or Stiles had to say about it.
"And now," Stiles went on, "something is actually happening and you want to go back home?" He shook his head in disappointment. "Nuh uh, sister, not tonight."
Not particularly liking that her worries were being invalidated by her best friend, Emsy mimed beating Stiles over the head with the flashlight. He danced away, laughing and slipping over the wet leaves littering the ground.
"I wanted to get to sleep early for school tomorrow!" she said, and her voice bordered on a whine. She didn't have to be able to see Stiles' face to know that he was rolling his eyes.
"What the hell for? We all know that we're just going over the new syllabuses, and it's not like you're the one one trying out for lacrosse."
"Excuse you, but I still have to be there! It took me forever to convince Erica to manage with me, and if she backs out because we came and died out here, I'm haunting you."
Stiles stopped and looked back at Emsy. Before speaking, he swiped the flashlight from her hands so she wouldn't end up being the one to kill him. "How are you going to haunt me if I am also dead?"
"You know what I mean."
"She'll be fine," he said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She has Boyd now. He can take care of her at lacrosse."
She huffed and didn't care one bit for how her breath seemed to rattle in her chest as she did. She was fairly certain that the Girl from Before never had issues with breathing, and hated that she did.
She decided to change her tactic when she failed to steal the flashlight back from Stiles. "Hey, so, genuine question," she started, pulling her hood over her head as it began to mist. She might have braided her hair, but it was only just a bit more curl than wave (thanks mom) and she knew it would still find a way to poof if she didn't cover it.
"Genuine answer," he responded.
"You said this was only half of a body, right?
"That I did."
"Which half are we looking for then?"
He stumbled to a brief stop, looking at her over his shoulder before bringing up his hand to scrub at the back of his head. "Didn't actually think about that."
Emsy scrunched up her face as he headed off again. "Uh huh. And did you maybe think about the fact that maybe the person who killed this lady is, uh, yanno, still out here?"
"Also something I didn't think about."
"Stiles!" Emsy reached to shake him, but he hopped away, starting up the steep incline that she just knew was going to give her trouble. "How shitty is it going to be when our parents have to read the news about their two dumbass kids getting murdered because they wanted to go grave robbing?"
"We are not grave robbing, we are very respectfully helping with the search," Stiles replied easily. "Besides, weren't you just as excited about twenty minutes ago when we left your house?"
"I have since seen the error of my ways," she said, huffing and puffing as she tried to catch up to Stiles and his stupid giraffe legs that liked to leave her behind. "Can-can you wait a sec?"
She propped herself up against a tree and fished her inhaler out of her pocket. Her lungs were feeling tighter than she felt comfortable with, and she didn't want to deal with a possible asthma attack in the middle of the woods with only her spastic best friend and maybe some cold blooded murder for help. She gave it a shake and took two slow, deep puffs.
"You okay down there, Em?" Stiles called, and she held up an A-Okay sign as she pushed herself up off the tree.
"Hey, maybe I, the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight again."
"So you can hit me with it? No. Now hurry up, Wheezy!"
Emsy made a deep keening noise in the back of her throat as she forced herself up the incline to meet him. Something about the night felt… heavy. Not the kind of heavy she felt in her chest before an attack, but more of an atmospheric change. The further into the woods they got, the worse it got; she hadn't felt it when Stiles had appeared hanging off the back porch.
This wasn't… surely it wasn't the Pilot Night already…
As Emsy slowly made her way to Stiles' side, she tried to wrack her mind for the details she knew she wouldn't find there. The timeline she was working with was complete and utter shit. She could remember, as well as one remembers vivid dreams the next morning, the Best Friend from Before ranting and raving about how nothing ever made sense - did everything start in the fall or spring semester? How long ago was the Hale Fire from the beginning of the Plot?
No one knew, and Emsy had a terrible, terrible feeling that lack of knowledge was about to ruin her life.
They continued to walk, Stiles sweeping the flashlight around them almost too fast to actually make anything out, and Emsy wondered if he actually wanted to find anything.
"What all did the phone call say?" she asked, meaning the call he had eavesdropped on about the body. He gave a dismissive shrug.
"I already told you. Female, chopped in half, found by joggers, state police are being brought in, canines searching-"
Emsy stopped, and Stiles went on a few steps before realizing that she was not following him. When he turned to face her, aiming the light at her face, she sputtered and slapped her hands at him to get him to lower it.
"Stiles, the cops are out here now?" she demanded as he squawked at her attack. "What if Julian is with them? Your dad! What if we run into them?!"
He dropped his head back and scoffed. "I think you're being just a little too paranoid-"
He was cut off by a chorus of barks just beyond the trees to their left. They exchanged looks, and Stiles let out a nervous laugh before grabbing Emsy's arms and dragging her after him, ignoring her mantra of "I hate you. I hate you." A wave of lights flashed after them, and she could hear the radio crackle of the searchers as they swept forward, not having seen them yet.
Stiles pulled her to the side, and she knew he was trying to get around the searchers. They might have too, if her foot hadn't caught a particularly dewy patch of leaves, and she stumbled forward with a yelp. Stiles, who valiantly tried to catch her and lacked the arm strength to pull it off, ended up being pulled down along with her, and the two ended up in an awkward heap of tangled limbs and leaves.
A very angry bark sound much too close, and Stiles let out a cry of alarm and tried to stumble away, but still had a tight hold of Emsy's hood, and she let out a choked squawk when he pulled too hard.
Needless to say, they did not get very far.
"Hang on, hang on," a familiar voice sounded before the dog menacing them could rip out either of their throats like it very much seemed to want to. Emsy brought up a hand to cover her eyes from the bright flashlight that shined in her face. "These two little delinquents belong to me."
Emsy might have felt loved at that moment that she had been claimed, if it weren't for the fact that the Sheriff claiming her looked very tired, and very annoyed.
Sheriff Stilinski grabbed an arm each and hauled Emsy and Stiles up. Emsy gave a sheepish grin, and Stiles rubbed at the back of his head. Deputies and leashed dogs surrounded them, and when Emsy dared glance around for a familiar blonde head, she let out a sigh of relief when she didn't immediately recognize it among the crowd.
"Hey, dad, how you doing?" Stiles asked casually. Sheriff Stilinski gave him a look, and Emsy was very happy to not be on the receiving end of it.
"Do you listen to all my calls?" he demanded.
"No… not the boring ones."
Emsy snorted, and then choked on it when she heard a sharp, "Sybil McCall, what the hell do you think you're doing here?"
Both Emsy and Stiles looked up with wide, alarmed eyes to see a blonde young woman pushing her way through the deputies, and both teens tried to hide behind the Sheriff as she approached. Sheriff Stilinski, the traitor, moved out of the way and left them out in the open.
Emsy cleared her throat and tried to think of an excuse. When none came to mind, she retorted, "What are you doing out here? You're not even a deputy." Her eyes went wide with a realization. "Was this a human attack? Not an animal attack?"
Detective Julian McCall blinked, having been caught unaware by Emsy's declaration, and Emsy was about to let out a triumphant ha, only to be interrupted.
"Okay, nope, that's enough," Sheriff Stilinski said. "Your adventuring ends here tonight. You're grounded. Both of you." Emsy and Stiles let out twin whines at the prospect of being grounded so early in the new semester. "I'm walking you to your car, and we're going to have a nice long talk about privacy."
Emsy, not looking forward to what that conversation might entail, looked to Julian. "I think I'll just-"
Julian caught her by the shoulders and all but shoved her back to the Sheriff. "Suffer through it, kid, I'm working." Emsy made to jump back to Julian, but Sheriff Stilinski snatched the back of her jacket.
"Come on, you," he said, bodily dragging her away from her aunt, who had the audacity to give a cheerful wave.
"What a heartless aunt I have," Emsy lamented, and Stiles snorted.
"Oh, are you laughing now?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, and Emsy knew the beginning of a lecture when she heard one. "Stiles, how many times do I have to tell you not to snoop around my stuff?" he demanded as they separated from the rest of the search party and started back in the direction the two just came from.
Stiles groaned. "But you never tell me anything-"
"Because it's not for you to know!" The Sheriff let out a huff. "Who is the dad here?"
Stiles was quiet for a second. Emsy was well aware that this was a constant disagreement ender with them. That Sheriff Stilinski pulled it out so soon told her just how irked he was at them. "You."
"And who is the Sheriff?"
"You. But-"
"No buts. You two are lucky it was us that found you."
Emsy wrinkled her nose in a show of solidarity with Stiles, but part of her was actually glad to be on the way back to the Jeep with the Sheriff. She was fairly certain he wasn't around when the Plot began. More than that, she had done plenty of research when it came to these types of plots (read: she and Stiles watched a lot of teen dramas, specifically those of the paranormal variety). Adults were never in the know, and never around for any kind of inciting incident. It made for better drama later on.
So, with the Sheriff's Adult Armor, she was content to know that there would be no teenage werewolves created that night.
"I think we woulda been okay, Sheriff," she said. Well, at the very least, they wouldn't be killed, if her memories from the Best Friend from Before were right. There were several seasons worth of story because they weren't killed during whatever the hell the inciting incident was.
He looked down at her flatly.
"Emsy, honey, you can't breathe half the time. I think you're overestimating yourself some." Never let it be questioned who Stiles got his sass from, Emsy thought.
"Aha, but that's why I brought my inhaler!" She said brighty, producing said inhaler out of her pocket and giving it a shake. "Never leave home without this baby."
"And anyway," Stiles said. "Whatever killed that lady was probably scared off by the search by now-
Emsy shot Stiles a look, because just ten minutes ago he said something like that and they had been caught by a K-9 and almost got their asses bitten. The Universe seemed to agree with her, because a low rumble emitted from the trees, bringing the three of them to a stop.
"What the hell-"
A literal herd of deer burst through the trees and Emsy really just wanted to talk to whoever the hell had been the showrunner for this world because this was ridiculous.
She found herself squashed against the ground, a heavy weight half on top of her and a hand holding her head down. She felt Stiles next to her, and neither could move for a solid six seconds as the pounding of hooves sounded around them, the ground shaking beneath them.
The weight lifted after the last of the deer ran by, and she shot up to see the Sheriff sitting back, scanning the area.
"What the hell was that?" Stiles exclaimed, grabbing his dad's arm and giving it a shake. "Dad, are you okay? Did any of them step on you?!"
The Sheriff shook his son off. "I'm fine. Are you two alright? Emsy?"
She patted herself down, and gave a shaky nod. "Little smooshed, but I'm okay," she said, and looked in the direction the deer had come from. A knot formed in her stomach. "That was weird, right? Deer don't just do that?" She looked to Sheriff Stilinski, because he was an Adult, more of an Adult she had ever grown to be Before, and she needed some of that good ole Adult reassurance right then. He only shook his head and started to stand, pulling them up with him.
"Let's just get outta here, guys," he said, and this time Stiles didn't argue. Emsy began to follow, and then looked down at her hands.
"Wait." She patted her pockets, and let out a whine when she found them empty. "My inhaler! I dropped it!" She snatched away the flashlight Stiles held and began to sweep the ground with her foot, hopping to unearth it from the depths of the leaves and twigs and dirt.
"I have your spare though," Stiles said at the same time his dad began to speak.
"Emsy, kiddo, now is not the ideal time-"
"Sheriff, those cost like eighty bucks! It's bad enough you're gonna tell my mom I was here, but she'll get mad if I lost that thing!" She drifted away from the Stilinskis as she spoke, closer to the incline (now a decline, she supposed) she and Stiles had made their way up earlier. "It's gotta be around here somewhere…"
She stood at the edge now, and turned the light to her left, and let out a screech of terror at the pale face (mouth twisted into a silent scream, eyes wide and unseeing) illuminated at her feet. She stumbled back, but her foot caught open air, and she tumbled down the incline, rolling and sliding all the way.
She slammed against something hard, her side erupting in pain and the air forced from her lungs. There were shouts that sounded very far away as she tried in vain to regain control of her breathing and reorient herself. Tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision.
A tree, she noticed as she struggled to pick herself up. She had slammed into a tree. She managed to prop herself up on an elbow, and could hear the Sheriff and Stiles picking their way down to her.
"Emsy!"
"Emsy, don't move!" Sheriff Stilinski called. "We're coming to you, kiddo-"
A growl. Low and mean and just on the other side of the tree. Emsy looked up at Sheriff Stilinski, and saw his eyes go wide a split second before something caught her pant leg. She was dropped on her face, letting out a strangled scream as she was torn away from the tree and dragged back away from the shouting Stilinskis.
She clawed at the ground, nails catching on the dirt and sticks, trying to find purchase, to scramble away. Her hoody and shirt were pulled up, and she felt the rocks and sticks and leaves scraping at her bell and chin and cheek and this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
She was dropped, and she lay stunned for a split second. When she caught two voices shouting, she tried to pick herself up and settled for rolling over when that didn't work out. A large figure loomed over her, half on top of her. She couldn't make out much through her tears. Only the hellfire red eyes, the white teeth, too big and sharp, closing in on her.
Oh god. What if the Universe never meant for her to turn? What if it meant for her to die?
She struggled to scramble away, and pain seared in her thigh as the teeth sank into her flesh. She didn't scream; she didn't have the breath for it, not with her lungs squeezing themselves tight.
And just as quick as the jaws locked on her leg, they released, and Emsy heard a snort before the thing picked itself up on it's back two legs and let out a hellish, ear shattering howl.
It was answered with one, two, three sharp, deafening blasts. Emsy felt a splattering of something fall on her face, and later she'd learn is was blood from the Sheriff's shots landing true. It dropped, turned, and ran into the darkness as though it hadn't just ruined Emsy's life.
She was in the middle of an attack when the Sheriff and Stiles made it to her, choking and gasping for air, feeling more scared than actually hurt at the moment - the bite to her leg aside. Sheriff Stilinski was shoving his gun back into his holster, and grabbed his radio, shouting into it. Stiles fell to his knees next to her, pulling her to sit up and babbling for her to breathe, that she'd be okay.
And maybe she would be okay, except for the fact that she couldn't breathe. And Stiles, the angel that he was, her best friend, her soulmate and life partner, dug out her spare rescue inhaler, gave it a shake, and all but shoved it into her mouth.
"Emsy, honey, look at me," Sheriff Stilinski ordered, and she did. "Where are you hurt?"
Everywhere, she wanted to answer. But she could feel the tacky warmth of blood stick her jeans to her leg, and so she pointed to it.
When he flashed the light on it, her jeans were torn, exposing the crescent shaped lacerations on her thigh, blood sluggishly oozing from them. When she saw it, Emsy made a keening noise of panic, and Stiles grabbed her face and forced her to look away, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her.
"Don't look, Em, it's okay," he assured her, and then in a panicked voice, "Dad?!
"You'll be fine, kiddo," he said, voice steady as he removed his jacket and started to wrap it around her thigh to slow the bleeding. "Just a dog bite, it just looks bad."
"That thing was not a dog!" Stiles exclaimed, and Sheriff Stilinski hissed his name in warning.
Voices and the actual dogs sounded at the top of the incline, and the beams of light shined through the trees. Seconds later Emsy saw the cavalry of deputies arrive.
"Emsy!" Julian's shrill cry cut through it all, and Emsy pulled away from Stiles to see her aunt shoving deputies out of the way and slipping down the incline. She stumbled at the bottom, and nearly took herself out on the same tree Emsy did. "Move! Get out of my way!"
"Julian-" The Sheriff started, but stopped when she dropped next to them, her glare silencing him. For all that he was nearly twenty years her senior, he knew when to concede.
"What," she bit out, pulling Emsy away from Stiles and into her arms. "Happened?"
Emsy whined and let her face fall into Julian's shoulder. There was no doubt about it; this was the stupid Inciting Incident, and her high school experience was about to get very, very hairy.
Emsy left the hospital with a bruised side from hitting the tree, scrapes and bruises on her stomach and face from being dragged, four stitches and a tetanus booster from the bite, and a very, very upset mother.
She tried to erase the look from her memory of absolute terror on her mom's face when she saw Sheriff Stilinski carry Emsy into the ER, the way she had dropped the chart in her hands and ran to her, all but pushing Dr. Keyes out of the way to get to her. She never wanted to hear her name cried out the way her mom had in that moment.
She didn't know what details the Sheriff shared with Melissa as they stood out in the hallway just outside the room Emsy sat getting her stitches. Judging by the grim set on her mom's face, nothing good was said.
She had been let off early to go home with her daughter, and hadn't made any mention of punishments. The drive home had been silent, Melissa's worry giving way to what Emsy thought to be anger now that she knew Emsy was relatively okay, and Emsy knew better than to test her patience.
Julian had wanted to come home with them, and could have, now that they had found the rest of the body in the woods, but had recognized the look on Melissa's face, and had decided to stay behind to work on the investigation. Likewise, Melissa had declined the invitation to have them stay the night with the Stilinskis as they had on occasion since the nurse and Sheriff came out with their relationship the year before (or rather, Emsy and Stiles had snooped until they had enough evidence to present their findings to them, forcing them to come out with the truth.)
No, Melissa McCall wanted to have time alone with her daughter, and Emsy was simultaneously relieved and on edge with the prospect.
When they got home, Melissa went to fetch Emsy clothes from her bedroom, deeming the stairs too much of a risk for her stitches that night. The couch would be her bed. In the light of the house, Emsy saw that it wasn't anger on her mother's face, but tired resignation, and she felt her stomach twist in guilt.
"Alright, baby, off with the sweats," Melissa said, gesturing to the pants Stiles had kept in his jeep for God knows how long; he had let her have them since her own had been ruined in the attack. "You're not sleeping in them - they alone will give you an infection."
Emsy let out a choked laugh as she eased the pants passed her thighs, careful not to catch the white bandages. Melissa began setting up the couch, padding it with the big winter blankets that had been gifts from Emsy's grandmother and spent most of the year hidden in the closet beneath the stairs. Now they were pulled off the beds in the house, and topped with Emsy's pillow and comforter from her own bed.
"Mom," Emsy said hesitantly once she had changed and was sitting on the couch. Melissa hummed in acknowledgment as she fluffed the pillow. "Are… are you mad?"
"Oh, I am very mad, young lady, and don't think for a second that I'm not telling Rafe about this," she said, and gave Emsy a look. She was cowed enough to not complain about her mom tattling to her dad about this escapade, not that she thought he'd bother to call her about it. "But I'm more relieved that you're okay, and don't think you deserve the grounding you woulda got after tonight," she went on, placing a hand on Emsy's scraped cheek. "But if you ever scare me like that again, you will be grounded until you go to college."
The guilt in Emsy's stomach grew, and she felt her eyes prick with tears. Because Emsy McCall was nothing if not a mama's girl, and making her mom worried and upset always made her feel like absolute shit, and she was well aware that this stupid bite was just the beginning of her future track record of scaring the hell out of her mom.
"Oh, baby, don't cry, you'll make yourself sick," Melissa said, sitting next to her and pulling her into her arms. Emsy couldn't help it, and hiccuped as her mom stroked her hair.
"I'm sorry," Emsy croaked.
"You better be," Melissa said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"I lost my inhaler."
Melissa let out a sigh. "Stiles gave back your spare, don't worry about that right now."
"I saw a dead body."
"I'll call Ms. Morrell in the morning."
Emsy made a face. She didn't trust Ms. Morrell. She was Plot Relevant, and Emsy didn't know if she was good or not, and therefore the idea of telling her about what had happened made her nervous. She was always nice, and Emsy had had to sit in her fair share of sessions with the counselor since entering high school because of the fight last year with Matt Daehler, but anyone could be nice.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" Emsy knew, with what had happened, that she was liable to slip into some nightmare that would throw her back into the Girl from Before. Her mom's presence always served as an anchor to ground her to herself. She had spent months in her mother's bed after her memories first resurfaced, because it was the only place she would wake up as herself, as Sybil, as Emsy.
Melissa must have realised this, and her expression softened. "Of course."
"Hello, problem child."
Emsy slammed her journal shut and looked up with wide eyes (the usual reaction when anyone other than Stiles walked in on her working on her journal) to see her aunt Julian standing at her bedroom door, a paper bag and box of mango juice in her hands.
Twenty-six year old Julian was her dad's "kid" sister, but you couldn't tell if the two of them stood next to each other. While her dad was tall and dark haired and eyed, Julian was blonde, blue eyed, and petite, the same height as Emsy's own five-four. But the way her aunt held herself, you wouldn't look at her as small. She mastered the no-bullshit glare, and somehow managed to speedrun her way from deputy to detective.
Emsy, in comparison, got her mom's textured hair, dark and long to the middle of her back. She didn't have the imposing presence her aunt and father did, but even now when she looked in the mirror, she saw that she shared their jawline. She had her mother's smile, and she preferred that, if she was honest.
The barely contained wince wasn't lost to Emsy, and she knew it was a reaction to seeing her bruised face.
But Julian swept the look away, and stepped in, brandishing the goods.
"For me?" Emsy asked despite already knowing that they were, in fact, for her. She made grabby hands, and Julian smiled as she crossed the room to Emsy's desk, dropping the bag in front of her.
She wasn't surprised to find her aunt in the house when she was supposed to be home alone - her mom had just left for a short shift, an attempt to make up the hours she lost the night before, and Julian had one of the three spare house keys floating around Beacon Hills.
Before Emsy could tear open the bag for her prize, Julian took her chin in her hands and tilted her face up so she could examine it. The bruising seemed to have skipped straight to muddy greens and yellows, and in the sunlight, the scrapes already seemed to fade. Still, Julian's expression was carefully devoid of any emotion, only searching.
Emsy let her have her look, and said nothing as she let go of her face with a sigh.
"Didn't your mom tell you to stay down stairs?" Julian asked, and Emsy ducked her head, unable to answer with her mouth full of the chicken sub her aunt brought her for lunch. But Julian was nothing if not patient, and so Emsy took her time before answering, going so far as to take a drink of her juice.
"Maybe? But I needed to come to my room!" she defended in a rush. "My journal was up here, and I had to change for school-" she paused. "You're still taking me right? Mom said you were taking me after lunch."
"I don't think you should be going at all, but yes, yes I'll be taking you." She flicked her wrist to look at her watch. "You have thirty minutes before we head out." She glanced down at Emsy's leg. "You sure you're up for it?"
Emsy nodded. "I have to go. If I miss the whole day, I can't go to tryouts, and Stiles needs my moral support."
"He can find moral support with someone else. Vernon, maybe. He's a good boy."
"Boyd," Emsy said, correcting her, "will be trying out for a completely different position, and won't be on the field at the same time as Stiles. Besides, I get bored here alone, and I know you're only on your lunch break right now."
Julian narrowed her eyes at her. "What an observant child you are," she said, and Emsy beamed at her. "You convinced her to let you go to work too?" Emsy nodded, and Julian huffed as she walked to the bed and lounged back onto it. Emsy twisted in her chair so they could still have their conversation. "Why?"
"Because if I don't then Dr. Deaton will be stuck there with only Alex and Ron, and they are…"
Julian waved her off. "Oh, I know those two. Sad that Deaton's only mature employee is the teenager."
Emsy shrugged. Alex Perry and Ron Brooks were Deaton's vet techs. Emsy really did like them, and they were good at their work, but they reminded her a bit of Bill and Ted.
"Hey, Jules…"
Julian looked up from her phone to Emsy, brow raised in the way she did when she knew her niece was about to ask something she had no business asking. "No."
"I just wanted to ask about-"
"No-"
"Thebodylastnight!" Emsy finished in a rush. If she could get her question out before Julian's third or fourth no, she would usually get an answer in return. A proper answer.
Julian sat straight, scowling. "That's none of your concern, Em."
Emsy threw her hands out toward her leg in a spastic way that was all Stiles. "I was attacked by a werewolf!"
"It was not a werewolf, and you shouldn't have been there in the first place."
"Julian," Emsy whined, letting her body go limp in her chair and nearly toppling over as she slouched to the side. Her aunt snorted in response despite herself. "Come on. I'm traumatized. There's gotta be something you can tell me that'll ease my mind."
Julian looked at her for a second before sighing. "Okay. This does not leave this room, do you understand me?"
"Stiles doesn't count, right?" Emsy asked. "He probably already knows."
Julian pointed a finger at her. "Don't make me change my mind. Whatever attacked you might have been what killed the woman in the woods, and since the Sheriff shot it, they're out searching the Preserve to see if they can find it."
"So… not just a rabid dog then?" Emsy asked, and Julian shot her a look. She hadn't seen the attack, but the Sheriff had, and no doubt she had gotten him to tell her what he had seen. We both know that wasn't a rabid dog, her look said.
Julian shrugged. "That's what I got, kid. If it killed the woman, then there really isn't much we can do."
She was lying. Emsy knew she was lying. She didn't know how she knew - Julian's poker face was phenomenal - but she did know. Something about the off-tempo ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump that echoed in Emsy's ears, and wasn't her own.
"Sooo, you'll be off the case then. They'll give it to the game warden to deal with."
"Guess so," she replied, too flippant, and stood. "No more questions. Finish your food and meet me downstairs."
With that, Julian left Emsy to her thoughts. As soon as she was out the door, Emsy pushed her food to the side and opened her journal once more. She drew a separating line beneath what she had been working on before (a recounting of the night before, attempts to reconcile what had happened and what she thought was supposed to happen) and began to scribble away in the shorthand only she could read.
About thirty-five minutes later, Julian pulled her car in front of the high school, in the empty pick up lane, and put it in park. Emsy looked at her in alarm as she turned the car off and began to take off her seatbelt.
"What are you doing?" Emsy asked.
"Checking you in."
"You don't gotta-"
"Get out of the car, I'll get a ticket if I'm here too long."
Emsy groaned and hopped out of the car. She grabbed her backpack out of the backseat, and slung it over her shoulder. Her thigh twinged as she made her way up the steps, and she could feel Julian watching her closely, waiting for any excuse to squirrel her away back home.
It must have been a passing period, because the hall was full of students going too and from classes. Several gave sideways glances at Emsy with her bruised face and the blonde with the no-bullshit expression escorting her to the main office, which was, unfortunately, farther from the front door than it had any right to be.
"You're making me look like a delinquent," Emsy muttered, and Julian looked at her with an arched brow.
"Baby girl, you made yourself look like a delinquent," she replied, and Emsy wanted to pull a face, but her cheek ached still and so she settled with sticking out her tongue. "Oh, look, who's waiting for you," Julian said dryly, and Emsy saw Stiles sitting anxiously in one of the chairs propped out in front of the office.
"Stiles!"
"Emsy!" Stiles jumped up in surprise, and his face exploded into a beaming smile when he saw his best friend rushing toward him, leaving Julian behind. He stumbled, nearly tripping over his own legs, as he went to meet her half way. "You're here! About time! How's your leg? Let's see it-"
"Let's not see it," Julian interrupted, stepping up behind Emsy. Stiles did a double take at the thin smile she pointed at him. "Stilinski."
"Deee-tective McCall, you're looking lovely-"
"Cut the bullshit, kid."
"Cutting the bullshit," Stiles responded with a nod, and he stepped to the side to let Julian lead Emsy to the office door. "I'll just wait here-!"
Emsy shot him an A-Okay sign and let the door swing shut behind her. The secretaries blinked in surprise at the bruising on her face, and then eyed Julian as she signed the sheet they presented her with. They said nothing about it though, and Emsy wondered what they had been told about her absence.
"Alright, my job here is done," Julian said as they walked back out of the office. "Stay out of trouble, both of you." She leveled a glare at both Emsy and Stiles, who bounced next to her.
"We're alway careful," Stiles assured her, and then quickly added, "last night aside."
Julian rolled her eyes and gave a wave over her shoulder as she disappeared into the throngs of students hurrying to their classes. Emsy thought it miraculous that Stiles waited as long as he did before he grabbed her arm and began to drag her away.
"You haven't answered my texts all day!" he accused, and Emsy gave a helpless shrug. "How was I supposed to know you survived!"
"I've been writing," she said, and then lowered her voice when some upperclassmen walked by. "Trying to figure out if last night was actually… you know…"
"Pilot Night?" Stiles asked, and Emsy gave a helpless nod. "You really think-"
"Stiles."
He snapped his mouth shut, and looked at her. Emsy always wondered how much of her explanations of the Girl from Before and the Boy She Was Meant to Be he actually believed, and how much of it he just humored for her. In any case, he never treated her like she was crazy, or told her that her memories were nothing but nightmares, never, not once since she had told him about it when they were twelve, broke her trust with the information she gave him.
She looked at him now, and a miniscule, traitorous part of her wondered if, now that the Plot was set in motion, he would turn his back on her.
But he just nodded, and the determined set in his expression gave Emsy all the answer she needed. "Okay. We'll figure it out. Together."
But first, they had class. Specifically, they had Econ with Coach Finstock.
"Jesus, McCall, who did you piss off?" Coach exclaimed as she and Stiles walked up the class. He didn't sound particularly concerned, or rather, he sounded the type of concerned Emsy recognized was reserved only for anything lacrosse related. She was a manager. If she was broken, then the team might suffer because she couldn't help them with stretches and bring them water.
Emsy threw him a peace sign. "Got my ass kicked by a tree last night, Coach. One out of ten, do not recommend."
"Uh-huh. Get in class before you're late and can't come to practice," he said, and mimed to hit them with his clipboard as they scurried past him.
"You're alive!" Emsy grinned at Erica Reyes, who sat in the same seat she had last semester, and who had scattered several of her notebooks in the seat next to her. Emsy noticed that she wore one of her nicer sweatpants that day, and a Beacon Hills Cyclones long sleeve t-shirt. A good day for her then. "Your face is terrible, what happened? Stiles wouldn't tell."
"Looks like when you and Daehler went at it," Vernon Boyd said, and he would know how that fight had turned out, considering he had been the one to pull her off when her lungs had decided to call it quits in the middle of her attack. He sat in front of Erica, because she liked to hide behind him and read when Coach went on some tirade or another about the lacrosse team.
"Went at it with a tree, is what she went at," Stiles said, shoving Erica books out of the way and plopping into the chair that had obviously been saved for Emsy. Erica made a face at him, and began to try to bodily shove him out of it. Emsy just sighed before noticing the look Isaac Lahey stared at her with. He sat in the back corner, and was eyeing her face intently. Something about his scrutiny struck her, like he was looking for something he recognized, and she brought up a hand to wave at him.
"Hey, Isaac! You joining in on the campaign this weekend?" she asked, and he ducked a bit, but the forlorn look wasn't lost to Emsy before he managed to school his expression. "Got some character sheets if you need to make one," she offered. It was the same offer she made nearly twice a week - she was working on wearing him down into agreeing.
He shook his head. "No, my dad, he - he needs me to work this weekend," he said quietly, and Emsy gave a disappointed smile, and hated that she could recognize the lie for what it was, just as she had been able to tell that Julian had been lying earlier.
"Ah, boo, okay. Maybe next time-"
"-really didn't have to walk me, Lydia. You'll be late to your own class."
Emy's head snapped up, frowning around the room in search of the unfamiliar voice. No one in the steadily filling class seemed to have spoken.
It was the response that made her realize the voice hadn't come from the classroom, but rather the hall outside.
"Don't be silly! You might have gotten lost without me. Besides, Ms. Morrell gave me a pass to help you around."
She managed to pinpoint the answering voice as it neared the classroom, and she ignored Stiles' attempts to get her attention as she heard, as clear as though he was in the room and not outside, Coach Finstock speak.
"Oh god, bad enough I have Thing One and Thing Two this hour, now I have you?"
"Nice to see you too, Coach. I'm just showing our new student to her class."
"Well you showed her, now scram. New Girl, you go in and sit next to McCall. She's the one that got her face punched in by a tree. Can't miss it."
"Mimzy? Really?"
"Go away, Martin."
Emsy snorted, and then let out a full laugh when Erica finally enlisted Boyd's help to get Stiles to vacate the desk. He only had to stand for Stiles to slide out of the desk, boneless and with a betrayed expression, and make his way to the empty desk in front of the one he had just been in.
"I see where I stand here," he muttered, and then twisted back to look at Emsy, who sat in the vacated seat after Erica gave it an inviting pat for her. "And you didn't even defend me, you traitor."
Emsy slouched forward, resting her chin on the desk and extending her arms out to Stiles and batting at him with her hands. He scowled, but she could see the smile threatening to break free.
"I have the weak lungs of a Victorian chimney sweep child, you ask too much of me," she said, and Boyd gave one of his rare bursts of laughter.
"You're more like those feral Victorian ladies that stabbed pervy men with their hair pins," Erica said, and Emsy gave her a grin that pulled uncomfortably at her cheek.
"That too, I gues-"
Emsy's words caught in her throat as she was hit with the soft scent of lavender. She blinked, looking up, and time stood still.
She had never seen the girl walking toward her before, but it didn't stop the rogue thought of oh, you're finally here.
She wore her hair down, long and dark in perfect cascading waves down her back in a way that Emsy could never manage with her own. Her hands - soft, they looked soft - played with the strap of her bag nervously, and her expression was open and just a bit overwhelmed. Dark brown eyes, kind and bright, caught Emsy's, and she seemed taken aback by the bruising and scrapes that marred her face before she gave the softest smile (DIMPLES, Emsy's short circuiting mind screamed) Emsy had ever seen in either of her lifetimes.
Oh no, Emsy thought in panic as reality came crashing back down around her. Oh God, she's the Love Interest.
"Hi," the girl said, and Stiles had to yank on one of Emsy's fingers to snap her out of her starstruck trance. She didn't yelp, and didn't smack him like she wanted to, but it was a close thing. Emsy cleared her throat and straightened. The girl's smile wavered as her eyes darted between the friends, and Emsy quickly gave her own greeting.
"Uh. Hi."
The girl gestured to the still empty desk behind her. "Can I sit here?"
Emsy looked back at it, then up at the girl, and gave a frantic nod. "Ye-yeah. Yes. Pop a squat." The girl gave a confused smile, and Emsy wanted to bash her head into her desk for how lame she had just sounded. Trying to save face, she gave a tight smile in return and hastily turned back to the front, where her friends all stared at her with varying expressions of confusion and concern.
"Pop a squat?" Erica repeated incredulously, leaning so close she nearly toppled out of the desk and sparing a quick smile that was more teeth than anything else to the girl behind Emsy.
"How hard did she hit her head last night?" Boyd asked Stiles, who shrugged helplessly.
"The hospital sent her home, so the brain trauma couldn't have been that bad-"
Emsy mimed to punch Stiles, and actually might have followed through if not for the bell's shrill ring and Coach Finstock lumbering into class in time to see her.
"McCall," he barked, and Emsy straightened into attention. "You'll be doing us all a favor, but if you kill Stilinski, you won't be able to come to practice, and I need you there to keep the guys in line, so…" he waved a hand as he grabbed his roll sheet. "Wait until you graduate."
"Yes, Coach," she said, and Stiles shrank away from the glare she shot at him.
Class began, and Emsy tried, okay, she truly did, to pay attention. But she kept catching whiffs of that lavender scent, and could hear the ever faint ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump coming from behind her almost as easily as she could hear the rapid BA-DUMP-BA-DUMP-BA-DUMP of her own heart crashing against her chest at the thought of just who was sitting behind her.
She had known this day was coming. Even if she hadn't gotten bitten last night, there was no way that the girl sitting behind her wasn't going to show up in Beacon Hills. It was one of the things she was certain the Universe wasn't going to let go. But as far as she had been concerned, Emsy hadn't thought the girl showing up was going to be a problem.
The girl was the Boy's love interest.
And Emsy McCall was decidedly not a boy.
She tried to shove her thoughts away, tried to think of a rational reason for why her stomach was fluttering and her palms sweating. It was the Bite, she decided. It was killing her. It had absolutely nothing to do with the Prettiest Girl she had ever seen sitting behind her, not at all.
Alright guys, new fic. If you followed me from Kerosene Hearts or Not Quite Oz, you know the drill. Slow as all heck updates. I currently have seven chapters done, and they're each at least 7k words long, but I'm super spacing them out. I'm also still playing with NQO while writing this so added delays. In any case, I hope I haven't scared you off, and will see you when I update next! (in the off chance something happens to ff.n, this is also posted on ao3)
stay schay, y'all