Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Jeff Davis, MTV, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Hello, hello! Welcome to my story! I'm not sure who exactly is going to be reading this – this story is little out there, even for this fandom – but whoever you are, I'm glad you chose to do so!

This story is pretty much what it says on the tin...err, summary. Unlike my other stories, there's not really any big warnings I need to say, besides the large amass of tags on AO3 (that's just how I roll). I will say, though, that if you are not a fan of Scott, then it's pretty much for certain that you will not like this story. I could be wrong, of course (and I'd be glad to be proven so!), but Scott is...well, he's my favorite character, and one of the many prompts that this story was formed from was my desire to see him be happier than he was in canon.

Now, I expect that this story will be roughly...oh 54 chapters long or so? I'm not quite sure. I do know that each episode, of which there are 12 in this season, will have roughly 4-5 chapters, so...do with that info what you will. Also, I'm just going to say this now: updates will most likely be sporadic. I'm in college, have frequent health issues, and have also had some family issues as of late, so...yeah. This month should be relatively fine, and maybe even January, but after that...who knows?

If I haven't managed to scare you off with all of the above, then all that I have left to say is that I hope you enjoy this story, and that the next chapter will be uploaded sometime this upcoming week!

Sincerely,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~The Ley Lines Series~

~Snap Out Of It~

~Chapter 1: First Bite~

To be honest, Scott should have known from the moment Stiles told him about there being a dead body in the woods that his night was going to go completely, utterly, and horribly wrong.

Really, he should have. Because besides the fact that there was a very real chance that the killer of the dead body was still out and about in the woods, Scott also knew that he was a bit of an...unlucky person. Or, as Stiles liked to call him, "a walking embodiment of Murphy's Law". Because whenever something had the potential to go wrong in Scott's life, it seemed – like the potential of him having a hospital-inducing asthma attack while being benched during a lacrosse match, for instance – that potential would almost-most-assuredly happen.

...Like the potential of him getting lost in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, for instance.

Like he was now.

...See, it had all started early that night, when Scott had been sitting on the edge of his bed in his room, preparing his things for both the first day of school after Thanksgiving Break and the one and only day for lacrosse try-outs the following day. The preparations – which consisted of him cleaning out his book-bag and duffel bag for lacrosse, gathering up his books and assignments, and rethreading the head of his lacrosse stick – were more menial and tedious than they were difficult, and so Scott's mind was able to wander to more important things, like how different this year of lacrosse was going to be.

Seriously. Because although Scott had, admittedly, been benched for the entire lacrosse season, that wasn't necessarily his fault or the fault of that one horrible asthma attack that he had had. Rather, it had been more because of his status as a freshman more than anything else, which made Scott hopeful – regardless of what Stiles said – that he actually had a shot at playing rather than being benched for the entire season, considering the fact that he was now a sophomore.

...Especially when you threw in the fact that he may or may not have been practicing since the start of the summer as well, as he liked to "humbly" point out to his best friend over and over again.

It was as Scott sat down on his bed to do the last of his tasks, aka the rethreading of his lacrosse stick, that he felt, more than heard, the ringing of his phone from the opposite side of his mattress. At first, he ignored the sensation, as he knew that 1) his mom was at the hospital working a late-shift, so she wouldn't be calling him and 2) that meant that it was most likely Stiles, the best friend in question, calling him, and that rarely meant anything good for him at this time of night. Especially when he had every intention of going to bed after his preparations were done.

However, after his phone began to ring for the third or fourth time – he didn't know, as he lost count – Scott let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed it. Once he saw from the caller ID and the grinning face of a dark-haired girl that it was his best friend, though, he let out a sigh and rolled his eyes before he sent a quick text – something along the lines of "busy rn, talk to you later". Then, once he considered his mission accomplished, he shut off his phone and returned to his work at hand.

After he had finished both pulling the laces of the lacrosse stick into a diamond-mesh net and making sure that the final product was satisfactory with both a ball that was lying around and his fist, Scott then put the stick and the ball into his lacrosse duffel bag before he started his nightly routine. The chin-ups that were on the first of that list weren't really all that hard since he had been doing them for so long, but they were a nice confidence booster in light of the slight nervousness he was feeling about the lacrosse try-outs. Likewise, his examination of his appearance – specifically, his black hair, brown eyes, and slightly crooked jaw, all of which his best friend said made him look "adorkable," whatever that meant – after he had washed his face was also a nice confidence booster, but admittedly, not for the same reasons.

It was as Scott was brushing his teeth, aka the final thing to do for both his nightly routine and his night in general, that he heard a curious...sound, for lack of a better word. It almost sounded like something – or, more terrifyingly, someone – had crashed against the house, and it caused Scott to turn around from the sink and look at his bedroom with a frown. He remained that way for several moments, toothbrush in hand and head slightly tilted, but when he didn't hear anything else, he shrugged and turned back to the sink –

– Just as the noise suddenly happened again.

Now deciding that the noise was worth investigating, since it had happened twice, Scott set down his toothbrush, wiped off his face, and went into his room to throw on some clothes that didn't consist solely of a pair of athletic shorts. Then, once satisfied with his new attire, the sixteen-year-old hurried out of his room, down the hallway and stairs, and out of the house. However, just before he exited the house, he did make sure to grab the baseball bat that was innocuously perched against the staircase, just in case whatever it was that was out there was not an animal, like he thought, but rather...something else. Something predatory.

Once Scott got outside, though, a rather strange sight greeted his eyes. Although it was hard for him to see much of anything because of how dark it was, it was obvious to him that there wasn't anything large enough to have caused the noises that he had heard, regardless as to whether or not the "thing" was animal or human. His frown deepening, Scott instinctively loosened his grip on the baseball bat that was raised in his hands, when suddenly –

– "Agh!" Scott screamed, just as something – no, someone – dropped down from the roof in front of him. The other person screamed in response as, arms flailing, they fell down from the roof, but thankfully both their voice and their clumsiness were familiar enough that Scott was able to recognize who they were, as evidenced when, a second later, he demanded, "Stiles, what the hell are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" the dark-haired girl scoffed with an expression of disbelief on her mole-covered face. "Scott, what were you doing? Why weren't you answering your phone? And why do you have a bat?"

Understandably, his best friend said the last part a little warily, and Scott found himself gazing at the bat with the same feeling for a few moments before he scrunched up his face and shook his head. "I thought you were a predator!" he protested.

Stiles, in typical Stiles fashion, snorted in response. "A pre – I – what," she replied, before she, too, shook her head and said, "Okay, look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago: dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even the state police."

Scott found himself frowning again. Although he very much wanted to get an early night's sleep – or, at least, as early of a night's sleep that he could manage – so that he would be well-rested for the lacrosse try-outs tomorrow, he knew from being the best friend of a sheriff's daughter what the state police being called in meant. It meant that something had happened. Something big.

And that was why, a few moments later, he asked, "For what?"

Stiles grinned. "Two joggers found a body in the woods."

Scott's frown deepened...again. "A dead body?"

"No, a body of water," his best friend deadpanned, also in typical Stiles fashion, before she rolled her eyes and added, "Yes, dumbass! A dead body! What else did you expect me to say?"

"Hold on," Scott said. "If they found the dead body, then what else are they looking for? And why did they call in the state police?"

"Well, that's the best part," Stiles replied cheerfully, her amber eyes glinting. "They only found half. And before you say anything else," she quickly added, presumably upon seeing his expression, "We're going. No 'if's' or 'what's' about it. So, come on!"

After a ten-minute drive to the nearest parking lot for the Beacon Hills Preserve, the two of them stepped out of Stiles's powder-blue Jeep and started walking – well, practically skipping in Stiles's case. Scott was following her more sedately – down the offered path.

"So...we're really doing this?" Scott asked yet again as he nervously looked at the woods, which were much more ominous-looking due to how dark it was and the light smell of decay from the leaves that was in the air.

"Well, you're the one who's always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles retorted as she turned on the flashlight that was in her hands. "Besides, it's our last night of freedom until Winter Break! You should be more excited than this."

Scott huffed. "Well, I was wanting to get a good night's sleep for try-outs tomorrow. You know that."

"...Right," Stiles said snarkily a few moments later. "'Cause sitting on the bench is a such a grueling effort."

Scott didn't reply. The silence between them as they walked became thick with tension, until finally, after several moments, Stiles let out a sigh and turned around to face him. "Look, I'm sorry," she said honestly. "But, come on, Scott! When are we ever going to get the chance to do something like this again?"

"...Hopefully never?" Scott returned with a glare.

Stiles laughed. "Exactly! This may be our one and only shot to do something like this! Are you just going to let the opportunity slide, like you usually do?"

Scott frowned. "...I guess not," he eventually replied, before a slight smile settled on his face. "Hey, uh...just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?"

Stiles, who had turned around and resumed her "practically-skipping" gait, suddenly faltered. "Huh," she said. "I didn't even think about that."

Scott resisted the urge to chuckle as he asked, "And what if whoever killed the body – the girl, sorry – is still out here?"

"...Also something I didn't think about," his best friend admitted, before she shook her head. "No. No, Scott! We are doing this, whether you like it or not!"

This time, Scott did laugh. "No, no, I agree, Stiles," he said as he clasped his inhaler, which was sitting snugly in his hoodie pocket. After all, a severe asthmatic could never be too careful when hiking out in the woods in the middle of the night. "It's just...comforting to know that you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail."

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Stiles retorted, but the humor in her tone obviously meant that she didn't mean it.

...Mostly, anyways.

The two of them walked down the path for a little while longer, until they came to the foot of a rather steep hill. At first, Scott thought that Stiles was going to walk around it, but she must've seen something, because in the next moment she was dashing quickly up the hill and Scott had to struggle after her.

When the two of them finally got to the top of the hill, Scott pulled out his inhaler, shook it, and used it, before he turned to look at Stiles with a slight glare. "Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight?" he suggested.

Stiles gave him the flashlight, but not without whispering furiously at him, "Scott, look at this."

Once Scott had the flashlight in his grasp, he turned and did as he was told. There, perhaps forty or so feet away from them, was a clearing that was sectioned off with yellow police tape and illuminated by giant floodlights. In the middle of the clearing there was also a giant black body bag, and Scott found himself feeling more than just a little nauseated when he realized that two pale, bare feet were sticking out of it.

"Is that...is that the second half of the body?" he asked.

"No," Stiles replied with a shake of her head. "They would have called off the search by now if it was. Now, come on. I want to get a better look."

Then, without any other warning, Stiles stood up and began to do a light jog around the outskirts of the perimeter of the clearing. She wasn't even vaguely illuminated by the floodlights, yet Scott found himself feeling rather nervous at how fast she was going, especially when he was struggling to keep up.

"Stiles!" Scott whisper-yelled desperately. "Stiles, wait up!"

But Stiles, apparently, didn't hear him. Shaking his head, Scott stopped chasing after his best friend in order to use his inhaler, as his breathing had become much more shortened and sporadic. Once his breathing was better, he began to run after Stiles again, but suddenly –

"Hey, stay right there!" a voice shouted.

Eyes widening, Scott quickly ran to hide behind a tree, before he squeezed them shut as tightly as he possibly could. He heard dogs barking – viciously, ferociously – but, strangely enough, they didn't seem to be...

...Barking at him.

"Hold on, hold on," a very familiar voice said. "This little delinquent belongs to me."

Ah, that explained it then. Scott, apparently, hadn't been found out, but Stiles most certainly had.

"Uh...hey, Dad," he heard his best friend in question say.

"Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, his tone getting more and more irritated by the second.

"No!" Stiles immediately protested, but her protest wasn't very believable, because a moment later, she said, "...Not the boring ones, anyways."

Scott heard the sheriff snort. "And where's your usual partner-in-crime?"

"Scott?" Stiles scoffed. Once again, it sounded very unbelievable, even to him. "Scott's home, Dad. Said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school – oh, and lacrosse try-outs! Can't forget those."

"Uh huh," the sheriff hummed in reply. Then, with a much louder voice, he called out, "Scott, are you out there?"

Scott stiffened against the back of the tree he was hiding behind, his eyes squeezed so tight that he honestly thought they just might pop out of his head.

The sheriff waited for several moments, obviously expecting him to suddenly appear – and land himself in a shit ton of trouble while he was at it. However, when Scott did no such thing, he heard Stiles's dad sigh. "Alright, Marzanna," he said, and Scott couldn't help but wince, because Stiles's dad calling her by her first name meant that nothing but trouble was in her immediate future. "I'm going to take you back to your car, and while I do so, you and I are going to have a nice little chat about something called the invasion of privacy. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Dad," Stiles said miserably.

Scott then heard them leave, the crunching of the leaves underneath their feet unmistakable. However, Scott did not move from his position behind the tree, not even a little. In fact, it wasn't until what felt like a lifetime later that he opened his eyes, and even then, he turned around to make sure that no one was looking at him before he slowly walked away from the clearing and towards the path that he and Stiles came from.

"Great, just great," Scott sighed as he walked. "As if my life couldn't get any worse."

...And really, Scott knew as soon as he said those words that he shouldn't have said them. It was like he was just askingfor trouble, due to how shitty his luck was. And sure enough, what had to have been twenty or so minutes later, Scott was proven right, as he found himself completely and utterly lost.

...Which was where he was now.

Letting out a sigh, Scott shook his head and took out his phone with one hand, as his flashlight was conveniently located in the other. At first, he thought about calling Stiles, as if there was one person who could figure out where he was in potentially-legally-dubious-ways, it was her. However, when Scott also realized that, in all likelihood, his best friend wouldn't be able to pick up for the phone for one reason or another, he sighed and went to open up the GPS part of his phone instead.

But, just before he could click on that stupid little button for the app, Scott suddenly heard a noise. It wasn't like the noises that he heard before, though, when Stiles had been climbing up on the roof of his house, no. This noise...well, it was more like a rustling in the trees. And, more than that...

...It sent shivers down his spine.

Frowning, Scott looked up and around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It was dark, though, very dark, and he couldn't really see anything, even with the flashlight that was in his one hand. Frowning, Scott moved to turn on his phone's flashlight, too, just for the potential backup it could bring, when suddenly –

– BAM!

Scott let out a bloodcurdling scream as he felt something, something that was much larger than him, crash into his side painfully. The impact sent him – both of them, whatever the thing that had collided with him was – sprawling to the ground, and Scott couldn't help but let out another scream when he felt himself hit the ground.

At first, for all of one fleeting second, Scott thought that the impact would just be that, an impact. Because, instinctively, Scott assumed that whatever hit him was an animal, and that it was just as terrified as he was. And that meant, rather than attacking him, the animal would be more likely to run away, to just leave him alone so that he could nurse the physical and mental bruises that the animal had just caused him.

However, Scott's hopes were completely and utterly ruined when, after that fleeting second was up, he felt a pair of razor sharp teeth suddenly sink into his side. The pain from the inflicted wound was agonizing, so agonizing that Scott thought that he was going to be cut in half, but just as suddenly as the creature – whatever it was – had crashed into him, the feeling of its teeth in his side vanished, leaving him gasping and choking on the forest floor.

With the same instincts that had made him think that the creature would somehow spare him, Scott got to his feet with a hand that was pressed firmly to his side. He didn't know where the flashlight he had just had was – it had probably went flying just after the creature had attacked him – and, to be honest, he didn't really care. All that Scott cared about was getting out of the woods, especially when, after he had turned on the flashlight on his phone, he saw the flash of pale skin, dark hair, and wide, glazed over eyes.

With another scream at the sight of the dead body before him, Scott turned and ran, like his entire life – because, for all he knew, it did – depended on it. Not once did it occur to him while he was running, though, that he was running without the assistance of his inhaler. And even if it did, Scott was still too terrified to ponder on such a thing, just like he was too terrified to realize that he actually no longer had his inhaler on his person.

In fact, it wasn't until that Scott suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a road that the terror began to seep away from Scott's mind and body. Shakily, he let out a sigh of relief, but this relief was short-lived, because in the next moment, there was the sound of screeching tires and the honking of a horn and – oh, God, a SUV had almost clipped him.

After making sure that no other cars were coming, Scott shook his head and, shakily, gingerly, lifted his shirt. Once again, he felt himself become extremely nauseated, because the sight of the bite that was in his side...well, it just wasn't pretty, especially with how much blood was oozing out of it. Really, it wasn't.

...And the howl that he heard not a moment later, from somewhere in the woods he had just run from, was equally as disconcerting.

Word Count: 3,519

Next Chapter Title: Scent