Hi all! Here's my 100th revision. It was all self-forced, I tried to get back into writing this story and realized how much my style changed in a year. I figured it was time to re-edit it until I felt like I was back in the groove. There will be inconsistencies in the next few chapters since I haven't reuploaded them yet, but please be patient! I'll get there, I swear.
Well, here goes. As always, all I own are my OCs.
And, because this is the perfect way to celebrate - Happy Ten Years of Teen Wolf!
Also: there are notes at the end for anyone who cares about dates.
Let me tell you a story. One about a girl. A once ordinary girl, who lived a once ordinary life. And how in one night, everything changed. And this once ordinary girl discovered nothing is as it seems.
Sinking into the soft cushion of my bay window seat, I stare up at the nearly-full moon, mind on tomorrow. It's going to be the first day of my last semester of high school. Having turned eighteen just last week, I'm pretty much ready to just get my diploma and drive off to college. Not that I'm going very far. I'll be a little over an hour away, able to commute to and from Davis whenever I feel like coming home. UC Davis was my first choice, so you can imagine the pandemonium with my family and friends when I got accepted Early Decision just a few days before Christmas. Of course, it was also nice seeing that I got accepted by my Early Action schools - Stanford and Princeton - but it didn't matter in the long run. I'll be going to my dream school, regardless of a binding contract. I'm one step closer to earning my journalism masters at UC Berkeley.
My mom yells up the stairs, and I snort as I hear my two younger brothers shouting at each other. Chase and Clark are the wildest eight year olds I've ever met. You'd think they'd been raised by a pack of wolves, the way they behave. They're the best, though.
Dad breaks the argument, yelling out for my mom. "Sofia? Hey, Noah called me in!"
I straighten at my dad's words and rush out the door, peering down the third-floor bannister. Dad's halfway up the stairs to my room, adjusting his belt and holstered gun. "Dad? What's going on?"
He shakes his head at me. "Nothing you need to hear about, alright? I mean it. No running over to Stiles's house and listening in over the radio."
I frown. "I haven't done that in years!"
Dad snorts. "Sure, Patricia. Get to bed on time."
"I'm eighteen. You can't tell me what to do."
He smirks and walks down the stairs. "You still live under my roof. Love you, kid."
"Stay safe!"
"Will do. Boys, stop driving your mother crazy. That's my job." Dad hollers, Chase and Clark shouting something back at the same time, their voices and words mixing. I return to my window, watching dad's cruiser drive off just after Sheriff Stilinski's. I look up and across, grinning through my best friend's bedroom window. I'd known him since he was in diapers, but we didn't actually become as close as we are today until I was in the eighth grade. My best friends at the time had moved away, and while I get along with most people my age, Stiles needed a babysitter and I was the closest and cheapest available. Something about him and I - and his (now also my) best friend Scott McCall - just clicked for me more than the other potential besties in my grade.
If anyone knows what's going on tonight, it's Stiles Stilinski, King of Listening In On His Dad's Radio.
Reaching over, I pick up my walkie talkie and click the button. "Holmes. Holmes. Come in Holmes. This is Watson. Over."
The other line crackles. "Holmes here. Over."
"10-4. Meet in five, then pick up Lestrade?"
"Roger. Over and out."
"Over and out."
Walkie off I got moving. Trading in my pajama bottoms for baggy sweatpants and my fluffy bunny slippers for a pair of socks and sneakers. "Mom?!" I shout, running out of my room while slipping into one of Stiles's Lacrosse hoodies.
"Office, pumpkin!" I quickly made my way down to the first floor and around the corner, my mom sitting at her desk with thick folders spread over the wood. "What's up?"
"Is it okay if I go over to Stiles's? Just for a few hours."
She raises her eyebrows. "Right. And this has nothing to do with your dad being called into work in a hurry?"
I shake my head, fingers crossed behind my back. "No. Honest. Just a spontaneous 'This Is The Last Time We'll Both Be Starting A Semester Of High School' hang out sesh. We'll probably just play Mortal Kombat."
My mom hums, then stands to wrap me in a hug - an easy feat considering we're basically the same height. "Don't expect me to cover for you if you get caught. Especially now that you can be tried as an adult for everything." She warns. I smirk.
"Who, me?"
"And you're taking the twins to school tomorrow, too."
"Can't do that if I'm locked up!" I wave as I hurry away from the auburn-haired woman. I lock up behind me and cross the street. Barely a second passes between me knocking on the door and my best friend throwing it up, a wild grin on his face.
"What took so long, Ricky?"
"Cover story, Sti. Let's get McCall while you tell me what's happening."
"Got it. Get in Roscoe!" He orders. I narrow my eyes. "Please?" I snort and lean up to kiss his cheek, laughing as we duck into his baby blue Jeep. Stiles starts the engine, muttering to himself as he turns the ignition a few times. The car starts with a loud bang, and I throw my head back against the seat.
"You have got to get that fixed." I tell him.
"Why? Duct tape's working just fine." I laugh as we turn down our street, heading to Scott's. "So, dad got a call ten minutes ago, then he called yours. Dispatch said they're bringing everyone in - even State Police!"
I frown as I struggle to turn on the heat. "Yeah - come on, Roscoe - I know that. Why?" I ask.
"Two joggers found a body in the woods. Half of a body."
"Male or female?"
"Female." I nod, shifting in my seat, giving up on the heater. "You're not nervous, are you?"
I raise my eyebrows. "Well, it could be a serial killer."
"You have got to stop watching Criminal Minds at three in the morning." Stiles scolds me.
"Why? Reid's a cute sassmaster, Morgan's a certified hottie, and Garcia reminds me so much of you. Loud, over-the-top, loyal. Smart." I add.
"Shut up." He blushes.
A few minutes later we're parking in front of the McCall house. Melissa's off working the night shift, which means Scottie-boy is all alone. It'll be that much easier to take him with us. We quietly get out and sneak over, Stiles climbing onto the roof while I just hide in the bushes. It was a mutual decision to try and scare the shit out of the last third of our trio.
Moments later, the back door opens. Scott McCall and his uneven jawline appear from around the back porch, bat in hands and face somewhat hidden by his floppy hair. Stiles picks that moment to swing upside down, yelling in surprise as Scott makes to hit him with his baseball bat, the two boys shrieking like three year olds. I walk out of the bushes, cackling as they calm down.
"Stiles? Pat? What the hell are you two doing?"
"You weren't answering your phone!" Stiles answers, and I snort.
"Typical." Scott makes a face at my teasing.
"Why do you have a bat?" Stiles asks.
Scott begins to lower it. "I thought you were a predator!"
"Who would want to attack you?" I ask, scoffing. I pull myself up and swing my legs over the porch fencing, landing smoothly. "Nevermind. With that cute face, you're everybody's prey, puppy." It does nothing to help Scott's nerves, and I laugh as he swipes at me.
"Stop scaring the puppy." Stiles grunts at me, before refocusing on our other friend. "A predator? Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this! Our dads left twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called -"
"They called in everyone from the Sheriff's Department." I interrupt. "Even the State Police, dude."
"Yes, thank you, Patty." Stiles sneers at me.
"For what?" Scott asks, looking between us.
"Two joggers found a body in the woods." Stiles flips down, flailing a bit.
"A dead body?" Scott asks, and I facepalm.
"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body!" Stiles sasses, then jumps the fence
to join us.
"You mean like murdered?" Scott hisses, eyes blown cartoonishly wide.
"Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her 20s."
"Hold on. If they found the body, then what are you looking for?"
"That's the best part. They only found half." Stiles answers, excitedly.
"A girl is dead, Stiles. Let's cut the 'we're going to Disneyland' voice." I gripe, but he ignores me.
"We're going." Stiles grins over at Scott, who shakes his head.
Not that he sticks to his refusal. Fifteen minutes later, the three of us are pulling in front of the main entrance to the Beacon Hills Preserve.
"We're seriously doing this?" Scott gripes, hood up. I climb out from the back and slam the door, irritated that McCall managed to swindle the shotgun seat from me. "Why do you have a knife?" He asks as I flip open my switchblade, catching the flashlight Stiles carelessly tosses my way.
"Because I like to be prepared?" Scott shakes his head at my answer and looks upward, as if begging the moon to save him from everything.
Stiles just scoffs at Scott. "You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town." He slaps him on the back and leads him towards the woods. I just shake my head.
"I don't think he was talking about murder. Maybe just us getting a Starbucks. Or an amusement park." I point out, getting encouraging nods from Scott. "Even just a girlfriend." I yelp as he kicks some leaves at me, stepping out of the way.
"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow." Scott explains his reasoning for wanting to stay home.
"Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort."
I snort. "My poor benchwarmers. Don't worry, I'll cheer you on no matter what!"
"Shut up, Ricky." Stiles grumbles.
Scott just shakes his head. "No, because I'm playing this year. In fact I'm making first line."
"Hey, that's the spirit." Stiles briefly looks back as we trek through the woods. "Everyone should have a dream. Even a pathetically unrealistic one."
"Be nice." I tell him, tripping over a fallen branch but I right myself with Scott's help. "Thanks, buddy." He smiles happily at me, and I ruffle his hair.
"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?"
Damn, I can't believe Scott was the one who asked that question.
"For?"
I blink. "Stiles, dude, do you know which of the halves the joggers already found?"
He pauses. "Huh. I didn't even think about that."
"Damn it Stiles." I mutter, and Scott snorts.
"And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out there?" Scott asks.
"Also something I didn't think about."
"Don't worry." I turn to the younger boys. "I brought protection." I flip my knife open and grin wickedly before climbing up a rock-and-leaf pile.
"It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail." Scott gasps out, rubbing his chest.
"Scott, inhaler." I order, and he whips it out, taking a couple of puffs. I point my flashlight around, hearing a couple of noises. Suddenly Stiles drags me down, and I tug Scott with me. In the trees ahead of us we watch as the police and their dogs search for the body. "Crap." I mutter, closing my knife. Stiles and I shut off our flashlights as the cops get closer.
Stiles prepares to sprint. "Okay, come on."
"Wait, Stiles!" I call, running behind him, poor Scott trailing behind us, panting for breath. "Scott, find a tree!"
Stiles grabs my hand and tugs us both behind a thick trunk, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shh!" He orders me, and I give him a glare.
"Stiles!" We turn when Scott calls, but can't find him. A dog barks behind us and we both jump, grabbing each other's arms as we fall backwards.
"Hold it right there!" The state officer yells, flashlight temporarily blinding us.
"Hang on, hang on. These little delinquents belong to us." I look up at the Sheriff and my dad, who shakes his head in half amusement, half annoyance.
"Dad, how are you doing?" Stiles asks.
"So, do you listen in to all my calls?" The Sheriff asks.
"No." Stiles pauses. "Not the boring ones."
"And you, kid?" My dad asks, green eyes shining in the light.
I shake my head. "Nope. I just call Stiles for information." I throw my best friend a smile and he makes a wounded noise.
"Alright, Holmes, Watson." The Sheriff addresses his son and I, respectively. "Where's Lestrade?"
"Who, Scott? He's home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for our first day back at school tomorrow." Stiles lies, and I nod in agreement.
"Yeah, which is what we should have done." I smile innocently at my father.
"It's just us. In the woods. Alone." Stiles adds.
I clear my throat. "Yeah. And, uh, I think now's a good time to tell you -" I reach down and take Stiles hand.
"Yeah, no. You're not dating." My dad interjects.
I pout. "But daddy, I love him!" Sheriff Noah Stilinski covers his mouth, but his shoulders shake too aggressively for him to not obviously be laughing. I huff and drop Stiles's hand, my best friend rubbing his palm on my sleeve. I glower at him. "God, you're so mean!"
"What a charming couple!" My dad snorts.
As Stiles and I kick at each other, Noah points his flashlight at the trees. "Scott! Are you out there?"
"Scott?" My dad calls, his voice deep as always. Silence, then they lower their flashlights.
"Well, young man." Noah says, grabbing Stiles's shoulder. "I'm gonna walk you back to your car. And you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy."
"You know what? We're gonna join you." My dad smuggly grabs the back of my neck and leads me behind the Stilinskis like I'm a cat. "We won't tell your mother about this. She probably already knows. Besides, I was worse at your age." He tags on the last bit of information with a whisper. I throw him an incredulous look, but he just keeps walking to the Jeep.
Finishing up my makeup, I smack my glossed lips together and raise my eyebrow, brushing my long curls onto one side as the sunlight catches on my gold hair. "Patty? Are you decent?" My dad asks.
"Always!" I call back and he snorts. I open it to see my mom and dad standing by the doorway, proud looks on their faces. "What?" My mom starts to tear up, and my dad rolls his eyes. "Mom, gross, stop crying." She only tugs me into a hug and I falter in my heels.
"Oh, I'm just so proud of you! Berkeley bound, 4.0 GPA - you've worked so hard for this."
I hug her back, blushing. "Thank you."
"Hon, you do realize she'll be driving back here, like, every other day?"
My mom scoffs, breaking away from me and tucking a finger under my chin, the both of them still much taller than me. "You should be there full time, pumpkin."
"And leave you without a regular sitter for Double Trouble? I don't think so."
"Mhmm. Love you."
"Love you too."
"Can I hug my daughter now?" I laugh at my dad and tug him into my arms, his muscular limbs around my smaller frame. "I'm proud of you, kid. Do well today."
"Of course. Stay safe, dad."
He snorts. "Believe me, I try." We break apart. "Alright, time for you to take the rugrats. Chase! Clark!"
"Coming!"
"Ah, stop pushing me!" Clark yells at Chase, and we hear the two of them stumbling down from their second floor room to the kitchen. My mom huffs and follows the sounds of destruction, my dad following amused. With a sigh I grab my bag and coat and walk out my door, shutting it behind me.
Downstairs the twins are running around, grabbing their lunches and dodging our mom's kisses. "Attention, Double Trouble. Your ride's ready!" I announce.
"We haven't seen you in forever!" Chase yells, jumping on me. I laugh as Chase does the same.
"I saw you both this morning. During breakfast." I remind them.
Clark makes a face. "But that was forever ago!"
I roll my eyes and take their hands. "Alright, little buddies. Time for school. No complaints!"
"Bye mom!"
"See ya dad!" They call, Clark closing the door behind us. I open the backdoor of my '67 Impala and usher the boys in. It was my mom's when she was younger, and a gift to me on my 16th birthday. Recently buffed, the black exterior shines and I pet my baby before climbing in, shoulder bag going on my passenger seat.
"Belts, boys." They nod and do as I command. "And any arguments better be put on hold, or no more Impala for you."
"Yes ma'am." Clark says, green eyes bright.
Chase rolls his own green orbs but settles down, the two quietly goofing off. I smile as I pull out of the driveway, passing Stiles's still parked Jeep.
The drive is filled with laughter and bad jokes, Chase just starting to fall into a "pun phase". Finally I pull up in front of the elementary school, waving at a few of their friends. "Okay, you two. Have a good day at school. Mom's picking you up."
"Ugh, why can't you?" Clark complains. I snort.
"Because I can't, rugrat. Go on, move it before you lose it!" They huff and roll their eyes, getting out of my baby, Chase carefully closing the door. I watch as they push each other on the way in and roll my eyes before pulling out of the drop off zone and heading off to school. I connect my iPod and play some Johnny Cash, singing along to Ring of Fire as I drive to Beacon Hills High. I park my car in the lot jus as Cash is crooning out the last line of Ain't No Grave.
Seeing Stiles by one of the trees I lock up the Impala and shoulder my bag, rushing over to him. "So, did you get grounded?"
"Please." He scoffs. "Dad's not home enough to ground me. He's just being more cautious about where he takes his calls." Stiles frowns, and I laugh at him.
"You are something else, Stilinski."
"Whatever, Abernathy. Yo, Scott!" Stiles yells, and I follow his gaze to see our friend rushing to us, setting his backpack and Lacrosse stick down.
"Guys, guys. Last night I got bit!"
"Bit? By what?" I ask.
"I don't know." Scott shrugs, panicking slightly.
"Okay, let's see this thing." Stiles bounces on the balls of his feet. Our friend pulls up his sweater and shirt, revealing his surprising abs and small square of taped gauze, some blood seeping through.
"Oh, Scott." I frown at him, gently checking him.
"Yeah." He lowers his shirts and puts his bag back on. "It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."
"A wolf bit you?" Stiles ask as we walk with him towards the building.
"Uh-huh."
"No, not a chance." Stiles disagrees.
"I heard a wolf howling." Scott tells him. I raise an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?"
"No, he didn't. No, you didn't." Stiles tells us.
"What do you mean, no, I didn't? How do you know what I heard?" Scott asks.
Stiles laughs and rushes in front of us, turning to stop us in our tracks. "Because California doesn't have wolves, okay? Not in, like, 60 years."
"Really?" I ask. "And how do you know this?"
"ADHD spiral." I nod at his shrug. "And yes, really, there are no wolves in California."
"Alright, well if you don't believe me about the wolf, then… you're definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body."
Stiles freaks out, his voice quiet but movements crazy. "You - are you kidding me?" He asks, and I find myself getting a little excited, too, considering a girl was murdered.
"Which half?"
"Top. And no, I wish I was kidding. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month." I pat his shoulder but Stiles laughs, still excited. I throw him a disbelieving look.
"Oh, God. That is freakin' awesome. This is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since - since the birth of Lydia Martin." Said strawberry blonde struts past, ignoring Stiles. "Hey Lydia, you look like... you're going to ignore me." I laugh as she continues walking away, then clap his shoulder. "Can't you just put in a good word for me? As a graduation present?"
"Maybe in two years, when you're the one waving goodbye to this hellhole." I snark, then throw my arms around the boys' shoulders. "Well boys, I've only got AP Bio first period, then I'm spending the rest of the day in the Sewer Lair. Meet me there after practice?"
Scott wrinkles his nose while Stiles stays in Lydia Daydream Land. "I hate that name. But yes." I roll my eyes and walk up the school steps, yelping in surprise when Lydia steps in front of me, hands on her hips and posse dispersed throughout the hall.
"Good morning, Patricia."
"Lyds. Hi, sorry. What's up?" I ask, fixing my hair.
"Nothing. Just wanted to catch up." She smacks her lips, eyes narrowing as her eyebrows furrow. "How was your break? Did you meet anyone?" She asks, and I laugh, walking towards my locker.
"In the three weeks we weren't in school? No." I open the locker and shift my bag so it's easier to deal with.
The sophomore huffs. "God, you're really gonna make me ask?!"
"Ask about what?" I look down at her with a teasing smirk.
"Did you get in?" I hum and let her stew in impatience, grin growing more maniacal the more frustrated she grows, until eventually she jabs her fingers in my ribcage. I flinch through my yelp.
"God, you're violent."
"I wouldn't have to resort to aggression if you just answered my question!" Lydia growls back.
I rub my side and smile more genuinely. "Yes, I got in. Thanks to my own efforts and your secret tutoring," I whisper the latter under my breath when a few students walk too close to us, "I got a pretty decent Merit scholarship, too."
"You'll be pursuing a BA in Media, yes?"
I nod. "I can't declare just yet, but that's still the plan."
"And you'll be coming back whenever you can, right?" Lydia almost pleads. "I'll need someone to bounce ideas off of, and you're the only person who can remotely keep up." She tosses her strawberry blonde hair behind one shoulder, and I snort.
"Absolutely, you secret genius. Listen, I have to run, but I'll see you later, okay?"
"Of course. I should find Jackson. By the way, there's a party at my place Friday after the scrimmage. Try to come! Ciao!" She calls, walking away from me. I shake my head in amusement and close my locker, heading to Mrs. Finch's classroom, somewhat ready for my first day of my last high school semester.
I roll my neck, sighing as I shove myself away from one of the many monitors. Beacon Hills High has some pretty decent funding, and a fair amount of students go on to lead highly successful lives. With our athletics being so strong, there's a need for strong reporting. That's where I come in - well, we. The newspaper has been a staple since the school was established, reporting on everything and anything. After two years busting my ass and putting up with the douchebag athletes, I was made editor-in-chief last year. Sure, it's more to do, but it's worth it.
The only downside is that our room is located in the basement of the school, adjacent to the boiler. It's basically in the sewer, hence Stiles's aptly chosen nickname. At twelve years old, he was still going through his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle phase when I took him and Scott on a two-year early tour of their future high school.
While today is only the first day back, I'd spent the majority of my time in the Sewer Lair planning our next paper and reassigning a few reporters. That only took a few hours though, and soon enough I was researching everything and anything I could about our mysterious dead girl. All I know is the other half still hasn't been found, local and state officers are still searching, and there are no known potential suspects - not even a recently released or escaped convict. Nothing.
I startle at the loud footsteps echoing throughout the halls outside. A second later the door bursts open, Stiles practically falling through, Scott not far behind. "What the hell?!" I shout.
"Sorry, sorry." Scott apologizes for both of them, but he looks completely dazed and distracted - he's kind of wearing the same expression he does on his birthday. Or Christmas. Or when I bake him chocolate chip cookies.
"Dude, you should have seen it! Scott was on fire!" Stiles yells, arms thrown out wildly.
My mouth drops. "Wait, seriously?" Scott laughs and picks me up to spin me around the room, and I hug him back just as tight.
"It was incredible! I definitely made first line!"
He sets me down and I punch his shoulder. "Good job, Lestrade." I turn to Stiles. "So, the Preserve?"
"Duh. You gonna try and do a report on it? That's risky." He teases.
I snort. "Do you really have to ask? The real-fictional Watson did the same thing!"
"Yeah, after Sherlock solved the mystery."
"Well, you better get on it."
Stiles rolls his eyes as I nudge him before closing up shop.
"Whatever we find, it better come with my inhaler." Scott exhales as I lock up behind us. "You lost your inhaler?" I ask Scott, frowning. He nods. "Why didn't you let me know earlier?"
"I was a little distracted by the fact I was bitten by a wolf."
"Not a wolf, Scott." Stiles claps him on the shoulder as we go out the back entrance of the school. "Meet us at the Preserve?"
"More like I'll wait for you there." I nod in the direction of the worn down Jeep.
"Leave Roscoe alone!"
"Sorry, Roscoe!" I call as I run to my Impala. "You need a more responsible owner!"
"Screw you, Watson!" Stiles hollers back.
I giggle as I slide into my car, waving as I pass the boys. As I suspected, I wait five minutes for the duo to pull up beside me, sitting on the hood of my Impala cross legged, playing with my phone and shivering slightly in my brown leather jacket.
"Dude, come on!" Stiles calls, rushing out of his Jeep, barely putting it in park. Scott helps me down from my little spot and I thank him, tucking my phone away in my coat pocket. My smaller legs carry me behind the taller boys, and I'm thankful for my boots when we splash through a small stream. Until Stiles flails, sending a wave of cold water onto my legs. They shiver as a cool breeze blows past us.
I should've worn jeans.
"I don't know what it was." Scott says as we finally make it across. "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing." We climb up a pile of leaves.
"What's going on?" I ask, nearly scraping my knee against a rock.
"I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear." He walks under a branch, but I just walk around it. "Smell things. Like, you." He looks at me.
I wrinkle my nose. "Do I smell bad?"
He shakes his head. "No, you smell great. Like peaches." I smile at his sincere look while Stiles leans over to sniff me.
"Hey, you really do." He turns to Scott, mildly impressed. "What else can you smell?"
"The mint mojito gum in your pocket."
"I don't even have any mint mojito -" Stiles stops talking, pulling out the piece of gum. Scott throws out his arms and continues walking, and I take the gum from Stiles, laughing at his hurt expression as I pop it in my mouth. "So all this started with a bite?" He asks Scott, who looks down at the ground presumably for where he dropped his inhaler.
"What if it's like an infection, like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something."
"Calm down, you damn hypochondriac." I gripe at him.
"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this." I turn to Stiles in surprise.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah." He nods, Scott slowing down to look at our best friend. "It's a specific kind of infection."
"Are you serious?" Scott asks.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think it's called lycanthropy." I huff and roll my eyes, arms crossed in annoyance as I slowly start to walk away.
"What's that?" Scott asks, worried. "Is that bad?"
"Oh yeah, it's the worst. But only once a month."
"Once a month?"
"Mhmm. On the night of the full moon." Stiles howls and Scott scoffs and pushes him as they walk towards where I'm waiting. "Hey!" Stiles defends himself, amused. "You're the one who heard a wolf howling!"
"Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me."
"I know!" Stiles shouts, still excited. "You're a werewolf. Rrrrrr!"
"Stilinski, don't make me use your real name." I warn, and he winces at my pointed finger.
"You got it, Wonder Woman." He turns to the anxious Scott. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But, if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's because Friday's a full moon."
Scott stops walking, looking around. "What is it?" I ask, taking his shoulder.
"I-I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler." He ducks down, feeling around the leaves.
Stiles scratches the back of his buzzed head. "Maybe the killer moved the body?"
Scott looks up at him. "If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are, like, 80 bucks."
I hear a twig snap and jump, turning to see a guy a few years older than me just watching us. "Hey, guys?" I ask, and my friends turn. The man walks towards us, and I swear to God he's the most handsome guy I've ever seen. Of course, his black leather jacket and deadly glare send off all sorts of alarms in my head that he's a possible axe-murderer.
He tilts his head at me, as though he recognizes me. I curl into myself, eyeing him suspiciously. The man's gaze flicks over to the boys beside me. "What are you doing here?" He asks. "Huh? This is private property."
"Sorry." I apologize, trying to keep my voice steady. "We didn't know. We were here last night, my friend dropped his inhaler."
The man stares at me with confusion as he reaches into his pocket and tosses something, Scott catching it. I look down in his fist to see it's the missing lifesaver. I look back up at the man in surprise, and I feel my cheeks flush as he stares at me once more. Then he turns and walks away, feet crunching against the leaves.
We stand in silence for a few moments, a part of me - probably the horny one, because teenage hormones are stupid - tugging at me to follow the stranger. "All right, I gotta get to work." Scott mutters.
"Dudes!" Stiles stops up. "That was Derek Hale. You remember right? He's only a few years older than us."
"Remember what?" Scott asks.
"His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago."
"Six." I correct, something flashing in my mind. I remember the news playing, my mom holding me while my dad rushed to the crime scene. Tears rolling down my cheeks - why had I been crying? "It was six years ago."
"I wonder what he's doing back?" Scott stares after the fading figure, and I bite my lip.
That afternoon, I went home and rushed into my room, pulling out my laptop to research everything I could about Derek Hale and his family. The deeper I dug, the bigger the headache in my head grew. Mom and dad kept sending me worried glances all through dinner, but how could I possibly tell them what was going on?
Then the next, I watched from the bleachers as Scott McCall flipped over his teammates and scored a goal, effectively making first line. One look at Stiles and I knew something was definitely happening to our best friend. Something not natural. As soon as Stiles had changed out of his uniform we dove into our cars, Stiles going home and me heading straight to the Public Library. I'm sure I took out half their collection of folklore. That night I stayed up well into the early morning, books strewn all around my bed as I researched lycanthropy.
It's Friday now. Scott just kicked ass again during the scrimmage, and anyone with eyes could tell Jackson Whittemore was five steps and a goal away from killing his new competition. I shiver as I remember the anger on Jackson's face, Stiles's bed squeaking as I get more comfortable. Stiles sits at his desk, researching werewolves. Any homework has been ignored on account of concern for our best friend.
"Okay, so Derek was barely sixteen at the time of the fire. He, his older sister Laura, and his uncle were the only survivors." I tell Stiles, reading the formal obituary I'd found last night. "It looks like Peter Hale is still in a coma, but there's no record of either Hale sibling since the fire." I rub my temple frustratedly.
"I've got silver bullets pulled up. A bunch of sites say different things."
"Yeah, the books from school are basically the same. What does it say about werewolf abilities? We know Scott is fast and strong. At least all of the books I borrowed mentioned an unsaturated bloodlust, too. Which isn't fun."
Stiles nods. "Same here."
"Maybe it's all psychosomatic? Like we're making it out to be bigger than it is?"
"Doubtful." Stiles snorts. "That bite looked bad. Really bad. Besides, the fiber analysis showed wolf hair was present on the body the joggers found." He nods over to a police report.
"That's a good point." I set my computer down and walk up behind him, peering over my best friend's shoulder. "How much Adderall have you taken?"
Someone knocks loudly on the door and we jump. Stiles carefully maneuvers through the sheets of printed papers lying around his floor while I sit back down on his bed. The door opens and behind it stands a grinning Scott. "Get in!" Stiles orders, slamming the door behind him. "You gotta see this thing. I was up all night reading - websites, books. All this information."
"How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott asks, amused.
"A lot. Doesn't matter. Okay, just listen."
"Oh, is this about the body?" Scott tosses his bag on the bed, sitting next to me. "Did they find out who did it?"
"No, they're still questioning people, even Derek Hale." Stiles turns his rolling chair to face us, and Scott looks at me for reassurance. I nod, still typing away at my keyboard to figure out where Derek Hale's been.
"The guys in the woods that we saw the other day."
"Yeah!" Stiles spazzes a bit, and I'm definitely concerned about how much Adderall he's consumed. "Yes, but that's not it, okay?"
"What, then?"
"Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore." Stiles clutches the pictures in his hand. When Scott looks confused Stiles leans forward. "The wolf - the bite in the woods. I started doing all this research." I cough. "Fine, we started doing all this research." He spins around then jumps up. "Do you even know why a wolf howls?"
"Should I?" Scott asks.
"It's a signal." Scott looks at me, confused by Stiles's words.
"When a wolf's alone, it howls." I start to explain. "It howls to signal its location to other pack members."
"Exactly!" Stiles shouts, pacing a bit. "So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em."
"A whole pack of wolves?"
"No. Werewolves." Stiles corrects Scott, looking at me.
Scott stands up, unamused. "Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour." He starts to put on his backpack, but Stiles stops him.
"I saw you on the field yesterday, Scott. Both of us did." He gestures to me, and I nod, setting my laptop to the side. "Okay, what you did wasn't just amazing, all right? It was impossible."
"Supernatural." I correct, Scott turning to glare at me in disbelief.
"You too? I thought you were the smart one?!"
"Hey!" I shout. "Don't be a dick!"
Scott quietly apologizes and turns to Stiles. "So I made a good shot. I-"
"No!" Stiles stops him from moving. "No, you made an incredible shot!" He grabs his bag and tosses it next to me. "I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes." Stiles practically dances around the room. "People can't just suddenly do that overnight. And there's the vision and the hearing."
"Scott." I gently cut in, the two boys looking at me. "You haven't used your inhaler since the night in the woods. Something strange is happening, you have to feel it!"
"Okay!" He shouts. "Dudes, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow." Stiles's eyes grow wide.
"Tomorrow? What, no! The full moon's tonight, don't you get it?"
"What are you trying to do? I-I just made first line, I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me. And everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?" Scott asks as Stiles sits on his chair.
"I'm trying to help. You're cursed, Scott." There's a brief pause. "And it's not just the moon that will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."
"Bloodlust?"
"Yeah, your urge to kill."
Scott sighs. "I'm already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles." Unconcerned by our possible-werewolf friend's tone, Stiles turns in his chair and picks up his book on Lycanthropy.
"You gotta hear this. 'The change can be caused by anger, or anything that raises raises your pulse.'" He turns to Scott. "All right?" He slams the book closed and tosses it to the side. "I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date." Stiles shoots up and crosses over to Scott's bag, taking out his phone. The shorter boy protests, following him. "I'm gonna call her right now."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm canceling the date."
"No you're not!" Scott practically roars, throwing Stiles against the bedroom wall and breathing heavily. I jump and race towards the two, trying to break them apart. Scott's fist is raised to punch Stiles. Instead, he yells and knocks the chair over. He starts to pant heavily, leaning into me. "I'm sorry." Scott walks away from us, in shock. "I-I gotta go get ready for that party." He leaves the room, bag in hand, and I turn to Stiles.
"So do we." Stiles picks up his chair and stops, swinging it so the back is facing me. Three long tears lie in the same spot Scott knocked it over. "Yeah, we really have to go to that party."
"Guess I'm slumming it with the underclassmen tonight. I'll meet you there?" I ask, dazedly packing up my stuff. Stiles nods, and I barely manage a wave as I leave the Stilinski house, crossing the street. Something feels off about our driveway, but I'm hyper focused on getting inside.
"Mom, dad?" I call out. "It turns out I actually am going to Lydia's tonight. Can I borrow a dress? Mom?!" I shout, pausing at the stairs. "Mom, where are you? Dad?"
"My office!" My mom finally shouts, and I turn the corner. "We're catching up with an old friend."
"Oh. Sorry to interrupt, but I -" I stop, blinking up at the large figure standing by the window of my mother's office. "Um."
Derek Hale turns his head, leather-clad arms crossed as he stares down at me. My parents are also looking my way, their expressions guarded. Save for their eyes - they're sad. Pained.
"Honey, this is Derek Hale. Derek, this is our daughter, Patricia." My dad introduces us, out of his uniform. Comfortable and lacking any noticeable weapons, I relax. We're okay. We're safe. "His mom was practically family." I don't move, and neither does Derek. We're locked in a staring contest. "Kid?"
"What? Oh, nice to meet you, Derek." I hold out my hand, and he takes it. A shiver runs down my spine, and I attribute it to how we met on Wednesday. How did he even find Scott's inhaler? How did he know it was his? Why is he looking at me like he knows me? "Mom, can I borrow a dress?"
My mom clears her throat. "Sure. I'm sorry, pumpkin, but we really need to talk to Derek -"
"Don't worry, I'm out. It was nice to meet you, Derek." He doesn't respond, and I walk away with a million questions running through my mind.
Lydia's party is in full swing by the time we pull into the driveway. Parking behind Stiles's Jeep I climb out of my car and straighten my mom's pink bodycon dress and light cardigan, tan booties digging into the gravel. "Alright. Let's go over the plan one more time." I tell Stiles, who nods.
"Okay. Scott'll be with Allison. We split up, find them, and watch Lestrade like a hawk. The minute it looks like he's about to wolf out, we'll drag his dumb ass into the woods." I pause, nerves eating aways at me. "You don't happen to have any wolfsbane on you, do you?" I ask.
Stiles shakes his head and takes my arm, leading me towards the party. "We're screwed." He grumbles. I sigh in response, pushing him through the door so we can get a move on our admittedly flawed plan. Waving to some classmates, I hang my cardigan up on a nearby hook and head towards the refreshments.
After grabbing a cup of whatever pink concoction Lydia's made tonight and talking to a few of my fellow seniors - then ignoring a particularly overbearing ex (why'd I have to date Greenberg) - I walk towards the pool. Scott and the famous Allison are making their way over. Weaving through the people I stop in front of them, smiling.
"Hey!" I smile at them, waving at the new girl. "Sorry I haven't introduced myself. I'm Patricia, one of Scott's best friends. You must be Allison."
"Oh, it's so nice to meet you." Her dimples pop out as she smiles, and I can immediately see why Scott fell for her.
"Well, I'll let you two get back to your date." I turn to Scott and hug the surprised boy. "Find us if something happens." I whisper, low enough for him to hear.
He nods, but when he stills I know something is wrong. I pull back, eyes narrowing in confusion at the figure by the firepit.
"You two okay?" The tall girl asks us.
"Yeah." I clear my throat, trying to think of an excuse. "Just an ex-boyfriend I have to talk to. Recent thing, he's still getting used to it. You two have fun!" I tell them, carefully weaving away from them and chasing after one of the last Hales.
I find him behind the house, his larger body staring down at me. "Go back to the party." Derek growls. "Now." It's brief, but his eyes flash blue. Bright neon blue. Something about them is familiar, but also wrong. Like they should be a different color.
Vague images of claws and fangs flash through my mind, and I gasp. Stepping back, I barely stop myself from tumbling down. The back of my neck starts to throb, and I rub at the spot as I stare up at the supposed family friend . "Derek? Do I, uh. Do we know each other?" I finally ask the burning question.
"No."
"Mom and dad are family friends, right? We must've at least met once. Maybe when we were little? I could've been a baby, or a toddler -"
"We've never met." He cuts me off coldly. His glare is deadly, but my mom's given me and the twins worse.
"But -"
"Is there anything else?" Derek asks bitingly.
"No."
"Okay then. Go. This doesn't concern you." His teeth grow sharper, his controlled glare growing more wild. Definitely not human.
"Pretty sure my best friend being a werewolf does concern me, Derek." He blinks, green eyes a mix of terrified and confused as I nonchalantly test the waters. If I'm wrong, I'll just say I'm drunk. "That's right, I know what he is. So in order to avoid the infamous Twilight 'I know what you are/Say it. Out loud.' scene, I'm just going to assume that you're also a werewolf. Right? Unless you're not. Then this is just awkward." I look over his shoulder, thinking. "But you definitely aren't human."
Derek clears his throat. "You should get back to the party, Patricia."
"But we're having so much fun." I sass, arms crossed. "Stay away from Scott." I glower at him.
Derek growls. "I'm here to help your friend. I can do more than you or the spaz you're with can."
"Don't call Stiles a spaz, you stalker."
"You won't be able to do anything. You're human. We're werewolves." Derek pushes on, ignoring my scolding.
"Oh God, please tell me you don't have some species superiority complex."
"This has nothing to do with us being better than you."
I scoff, then frown. "Did you bite him? I swear to God, if you're the one who -"
"Scott's leaving." Derek interrupts with a growl.
Confused, I turn around only to find Scott stumbling away from a confused Allison. Running away from the probable werewolf I grab her hand. We follow my best friend out, passing Stiles. Scott's too far away to catch up to, and we can only watch as he drives away in his mom's car.
"Patricia. Allison." Our heads turn at the new voice, and I tug the taller girl behind me as Derek approaches. "Do you need a ride home?"
"How do you know us?" Allison asks.
"I'm a friend of Scott's." Derek turns to me.
I scoff. "Yeah, right. Allison, we'll take mine. Later, Derek." He glares at me as we walk away, Allison more than confused. She gets into the passenger side of my Impala and buckles up as I pull away from Lydia's house, giving me her address.
"Who's Derek? Why did he say he's friends with Scott?" She asks nervously.
Putting on a sad smile, I look at her. "Oh, that's the ex I was telling you about. We're trying to avoid him."
"Messy break up?" She asks, taking one of my hands in comfort.
"Yeah. Big disagreement. The boys used to hang out with him, but... Stiles and Scott are loyal friends." Allison sighs and I briefly turn my head to look at her. "Listen, I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you behind. Scott's been feeling weird all day. He has asthma - it's gotten better, but he still gets attacks. He didn't want to cancel on you, though. He really likes you."
"You think?" She nervously tucks her hair behind her ears.
I laugh. "Listen, I've known him since he was six years old. That boy hasn't been as into any girl as he is you. I'm sure he'll explain what happened. Just, try not to be too hard on him."
"It depends on his excuse." I laugh.
"You're really something."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong, that wasn't an insult." She nods. "I just mean, I can tell you're strong. That you don't put up with other people's crap."
"I try not to."
I chuckle. "Unfortunately, most guys our age are full of crap."
"You can say that again." We both laugh, and I pull in front of her large house. "Well, thanks for the ride. Do you think I could get your number?"
"Yeah, of course." I pass my phone over to her, and she types as she talks.
"It's just, I've only really made friends with Lydia and Scott. They told me you're busy with senior year, but I'd love to talk more. Maybe get some advice. If you want." She blinks at me with a nervous smile.
I laugh and take my phone from her, texting her my name so she can save it. "Girl, it's fine. Hey, if you want I can take you around town tomorrow? We can do homework at this cafe I know."
"Sure!" She smiles and gets out, leaning down to finish talking to me. "It was nice to meet you Patricia. Trish? Is that okay?"
I smile. "It's totally fine. See you tomorrow, Alli."
She smiles and carefully closes the door, walking into her house. I wait for a second to make sure we weren't followed and then pull out, calling Stiles.
"Where the hell are you?" He asks as I put him on speaker.
"I was dropping Allison off."
"So Derek doesn't have her?"
"No?! Why would you think that?"
"Well, I saw him talking to you and told Scott, who's busy turning into a werewolf!" He yells, and I roll my eyes at his panicked shouting.
"I'm not an idiot, you overdramatic dumbass. I took her home. Where are you?"
"I'm pulling up to Allison's house right now." I huff.
"Jesus, Stiles, where the hell's Scott?" I ask.
"I don't know! I followed him home and he said Derek's the one who bit him! I thought you two were in trouble!"
"Stiles, we're fine. We need to get Scott!"
"No, no, you go home. I'll check on Allison, make sure Derek isn't there. Please stay safe!" I sigh and nod, even though he can't see me.
"You too, Watson."
"Count on it, Holmes." We hang up on each other and I drive back to my house, the full moon shining above me.
Saturday was fun, Allison and I working on what little homework our teachers assigned us at the Beacon Bean, nursing latte after latte and giggling about childhood stories. I learned she moved around a lot because of her parents, but mostly her dad who's an arms dealer for the government. She's a year older than Scott and Stiles, and practically begged me not to say anything. I take promises seriously, especially of the pinky variety, so her secret is safe with me. By the end of the day I'd made a new best friend.
Finally Monday, I catch up with Stiles and an exhausted Scott. Any residual irritation I feel towards him fades as soon he cries out an apology. Stupid puppy eyes. Stupid uneven jawline. He's just one fluffy dog, and it's a good thing he's not a manipulative bastard or he'd be a danger to society. More so than being a werewolf.
My best friend's a werewolf.
I stroke the back of his head as he tells me all about the hunters he'd managed to escape Friday night, Derek Hale having rescued him from certain death. I kept my excitement at being right about the leather jacket-wearing stalker's species to myself. Still, it's nice to know even in a crisis I can still connect the dots.
"Don't worry. Stiles and I will keep you chained up on full moon nights and toss you a raw steak." I joke, trying to bring some levity to the situation.
Scott laughs. "Stiles only offered me mice."
"Well, Stiles is gross, Lestrade." I snicker as the tallest of our trio slaps at me, rushing off into school to escape his attacks. The day passes in a strange mix of slow and fast - the couple of classes I do have breeze by, the hour seeming to only be a handful of minutes as we get back into the groove of things. Waiting around in the library feels like a lifetime, though. I'm practically crying tears of boredom by the time I meet up with Allison.
"How was your first Monday at Beacon High? Riveting?" I joke, and the brunette dimples out a laugh.
"Coach Finstock's definitely going to take some getting used to."
I shake my head, patting her back. "Oh, Ally, you'll never get used to that man." Allison groans, and we link our arms together as we leave the school.
Out near the lot, we zero in on a forlorn Scott sitting at one of the tables. Allison makes an immediate beeline towards him, yanking me along. "So what happened? You left me stranded at the party." She keeps walking towards the lot. I laugh under my breath at her take-no-prisoners attitude, Scott quickly chasing after us.
"Yeah, I-I know, I know. I'm really sorry, I am. But… you're gonna have to trust that I had a really good reason." Allison looks into his eyes as we walk.
"Did you get sick? Trish said you weren't feeling well that day. Was it your asthma?"
Scott looks at me in thanks. "I definitely had an attack of something." We stop walking and I stand a little behind the couple, watching in anticipation.
"Am I gonna get an explanation?" She asks him.
"Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?" Scott asks, and Allison sighs.
"Am I gonna regret this?"
"Probably." I laugh at Scott, holding my hands up in surrender and getting a giggle from Allison. "So is that a yes on a second chance?"
"Definitely yes." A car honks as they step closer to each other, and we all look at the red Tahoe at the pick up zone. That's my dad. I better go." She waves to us and walks towards her equally tall dad. He stares at us, and I bite my lip, his focus on Scott unnerving. My best friend nervously waves and the man smirks, climbing into his car and driving his daughter away.
"Pat?"
"Yes?"
"That was the hunter who shot me."
I look at him in alarm, and then the fading Tahoe. "'Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.'" Scott looks at me. "Romeo and Juliet."
"Aw, crap." Scott mutters, and I nod my head. This just got a whole lot more interesting.
For anyone who cares about the dates:
Did you know the full moon of January 2011 took place from Wednesday (1/19) to Thursday (1/20), and not on Friday as decided by the Teen Wolf writers?
As an aside, it would've been so much easier if the writing team actually had a solid timeline and not whatever the hell ended up happening. It's just one big ball of tangled yarn that five kittens got their claws stuck in and shredded as they made their escape.
In light of how messy the timeline is, I can give you four definitive dates so far:
Patricia was born on 01/11/1993. As stated in this chapter, she's 18.
Derek was born 12/25/1989. The writer's gave different dates, so I made the executive decision that Derek is 21 turning 22 from S1-S3a. I know his driver's license says one thing, but they retconned that date in the Teen Wolf Calendar, so who the hell knows his true age. Probably not even Jeff.
MLK, Jr Day was on Monday.
School Starts 01/19/2011.