"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture," the tattooist noted sarcastically as he held the picture my brother had given him.

It was a design, drawn by hand, of two bands, the top one thicker than the bottom. The plan was to get them on Scott's left forearm. He'd told me about it a few days ago, and so, as a gift for his first day back at school tomorrow, I decided to pay for it. Now, here we were, Scott, Stiles and myself, in the tattoo parlour, waiting for Scott to get inked.

It was night, so the place was lit up by neon signs and lights. There were photos of tattoos and drawings of designs all over the walls. The place felt very cliché when it came to tattoo parlours.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles lifted a file of designs he'd been looking through, showing as an image of a creature that closely resembled a Kanima.

Scott gave him an exasperated look a sigh.

"Too soon?" Stiles asked, seeing my brother's facial expression. "Yeah." He nodded, putting the file away.

I laughed lightly, turning back to the file I was flicking through. Getting a tattoo wasn't something I'd really ever thought about doing, but now that we were here I was a little curious.

Stiles sighed, moving over to stand in front of Scott's chair. "I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind." Scott had made his decision.

"Okay, but why two bands?" Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. "I just like it."

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?"

"Getting a tattoo means something," Scott and I said at the same time, giving each other smiles after.

Stiles looked to both of us. "I don't think that's-"

"They're right, tattooing goes back thousands of years," the tattooist cut him off. "The Tahitian word 'tatua' means 'to leave a mark'. Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see?" Scott gestured to the burly man who now sat by his chair, grabbing the tattoo gun. "He gets it."

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott. Literally."

I laughed lightly again, closing the book I'd been flicking through. Without saying anything I moved over to stand by Stiles so I could watch Scott get his tattoo.

"Okay, you ready?" the tattooist asked, getting a nervous nod in return. He hesitated. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope," Scott assured him.

I grinned lightly. "He's tougher than he looks."

The machine turned on then, a buzzing surrounding us.

Stiles moved a little closer, curious. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so…" Suddenly he started to fall.

I was right there, catching him inches from the ground. "Okay. There we go." I lifted him into my arms. "Chair?" I asked the tattooist- who had paused the tattooing.

"Over there." He gestured behind me to where a worn black leather lounge sat.

Turning, I took Stiles over to it, carrying him bridal style.

"You're stronger than you look," the tattooist noted, impressed.

"Tougher, too," Scott added. I could hear the smile in his words.

I looked over my shoulder to flash him a knowing grin. Being tough and strong were just two of the perks that came with being werewolves.

…

I climbed into the back of Stiles' Jeep. Scott pulled his chair back into place once I was seated before he got in himself. Stiles wasn't too far behind, getting behind the wheel.

Scott groaned in pain, looking down at the bandage on his arm.

"You okay?" Stiles asked as he pulled his seatbelt on.

"Kinda burns," Scott answered tensely.

"Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about 100,000 times with a needle," Stiles noted.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this," Scott countered. There was a pause before he flinched and groaned in pain. "Oh, God. No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this. Oh, I gotta take this thing off."

"No, no, no, no, Scott." Stiles shook his head, freaking out. "Oh, Scott, please stop. Whoa, whoa."

Ignoring him, I reached over, extended my claw and cut Scott's bandages so they slipped off easily.

Right before our eyes, as Scott flinched and squirmed in pain, we watched the two bands disappear. The ink faded completely as if it had never been there in the first place.

"Oh, no, what? No, no, come on," Scott sighed, his head falling back against his chair. "It healed."

A second or two paused before Stiles let out a relieved breath. "Ah, thank God. I hated it," he mumbled as he put the car in gear, forgetting Scott and I could hear him. When we shot him a look, he paused. "Sorry."

Rolling my eyes, I nudged his chair. "Just drive, Stiles."

Doing as I said, Stiles drove off, leaving the parking lot outside the tattoo parlour. He and Scott fell into conversation pretty quickly, but I was distracted by my phone. I still had no messages from Derek.

Over the last few months- four, to be exact- Derek and I had been working on our relationship. After the rollercoaster we went through last year, we were determined to make it work this time around.

Most nights I would either go to his loft- which he'd bought during the four months once he realised he was staying in town- and then there were a few where he'd stayed at my house. But it was awkward with mum and Scott around- not that it wasn't awkward with Isaac at his.

We didn't spend every night together. We'd go days without talking at all. It was annoying, but it was something I had to get used to.

Derek had secrets. I didn't like that, and he didn't like keeping things from me, but we both knew it was for the best. As long as he wasn't my Alpha, and I wanted to have some semblance of a normal life, he was going to have to keep things from me. Plus, part of him always felt the need to protect me from whatever drama he was dealing with.

Speaking of a normal life, the reason why I was expecting a text from him tonight was because of my interview tomorrow.

"Hey, Angie?"

My head shot up as I heard Stiles calling my name. "Yeah."

"Called you like a million times. You good back there?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

I gave him a small smile. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

Scott turned in his seat. "About the interview?" It was as if he'd just read my mind.

"Of course, about the interview," Stiles answered for me. "She hasn't thought about anything else for the past month."

It was true. About a month ago I got a call from the high school admin. After they heard I'd been accepted into the local community college for an associate's degree in education they acted fast to snap me up. Apparently with my past grades and extensive volunteer work a few schools had wanted to offer me a job.

I wasn't sure what the job would entail, and I wasn't sure what other places had wanted to offer me a job. All I cared about was the fact I could spend the next two years working at my old high school, with my brother and best friend, when I'm not studying.

The plan was to do my associate's degree, which would take two years. Then, once that's done, Scott and Stiles would finish high school and be going off to college as well. Wherever they'd want to go, I'd go too. Nothing was splitting us apart.

"Do you know what the job is yet?" Scott asked.

"Nope," I answered. "All I know is I have an interview with one of the faculty members first thing tomorrow."

"And when do you start college?"

"Not for another two weeks." I shrugged, leaning back in my chair, slipping my phone into the pocket of my jeans. "Hopefully I get the job, so I don't have to sit around, waiting. Instead, I can spend time at school with you guys." I smiled.

"Speaking of school… have you heard from Allison?" Stiles glanced at Scott as he drove down the road, coming up to a set of red lights. "Do you know if she's gonna be there tomorrow?"

Scott shook his head. "Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer no texts, no calls."

Stiles stopped at the red light, right by the one and only car which had also stopped. "So, then how do you know she won't be back at school then?" he asked.

Chuckling nervously, Scott shifted in his seat. "After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all."

Reaching over, I rested a gentle hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm sure she'll come back."

For the past four months, I'd been right by Scott's side, just in case he needed the support after Allison broke up with him. Surprisingly though, he'd been handling it a lot better than I thought he would have. He'd been handling everything pretty well, actually.

He went to summer school and worked his butt off, bumping his grades from a D to a B. When he wasn't in summer school he'd asked me to tutor him- which I did, of course. He'd set himself some readings and tasks and organised everything.

He started to work out daily and changed his living habits. Getting up earlier, eating better and more consistently.

Lastly, he'd been hanging out with Stiles more, as well. Instead of focusing on Allison, Scott had pulled back to hang out like a normal teenager. He'd even started spending time with Isaac a little. Surprisingly, the fact Derek and I were dating didn't piss him off.

Work was a pretty big deal, and he'd been going at it hard. I'd offered to give him a few extra days here and there when I wanted a little more time with Derek. Before long, he'd saved up enough to buy himself a dirt bike- which was his pride and joy now.

He was doing pretty good.

"I think she is." Stiles shrugged, his tone of voice seeming pretty sure. "I'd say pretty definite, you know." Scott and I both looked to him then as he went on. "Like one hundred per cent." He nodded to Scott's right.

Scott turned to look out his window as I leaned over to pop my head between the two of them, so I could look as well.

Sure enough, sitting in the car next to us, was none other than Lydia Martin… and Allison Argent.

She was smiling and laughing, as beautiful as ever. Her hair had been cut, having once fallen halfway down her back, but now resting on top of her shoulders. Her style had changed as well, going from the fun and young cute outfits she'd been wearing when dating Scott, to the dark and fierce outfits after losing her mum, to a more natural and relaxed style.

Scott's whole body tensed, his jaw hanging open as he watched her, speechless.

Laughing in the car, she looked to Lydia, before her eyes caught sight of the three of us in the car over. Her smile fell.

"Oh, my God. No." Scott pulled away and ducked, trying to hide from her view. "Can we just drive please, Stiles?"

"Scott, it's a red light." Stiles gestured to the traffic lights in front of us.

"No one is around. Just go," I told him, knowing how much Scott wanted- and needed- to get out of there.

Instead, Stiles did the complete opposite. "I think we should talk to her. I just think we should say something."

"No." Scott watched with wide eyes as Stiles reached over to wind his window down. "No, no, Stiles, come on. Oh, my God, dude, no!"

"Hey!" Stiles called out the window.

Lydia slammed her foot onto the accelerator, speeding off.

I let out a breath, falling back into my seat. "Good one, Stiles."

He shrugged. "You know, they probably didn't see us."

"Right." I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

A moment, maybe a second or so, later, the light changed to green. Stiles started forward, heading down the road… right behind Lydia and Allison.

Scott's eyes went wide, heart beating fast. "What are you doing?"

"I'm driving," Stiles answered as if to say, 'duh'.

"We're right behind them," Scott noted, still freaking out.

"Okay, well, do you see any turns?"

"I don't want it to look like we're following them."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, anything."

Sighing, Stiles slammed on the brakes, stopping right in the middle of the road. We were flung forward in our seats slightly, stopping when our seatbelts locked into place.

Moving back, I groaned, tugging on my seatbelt. "Is that really all you could think of doing? You didn't think of, I don't know, turning around? Pulling over to the side? Slowing down a little? Anything?"

Stiles turned in his seat, not liking my tone. "Next time how about you drive then?"

"Fine. I will." I shrugged. "Move and I'll drive right now," I offered, lifting my hand and gesturing for the keys.

"Uh… guys…" Scott pulled our attention to him.

We all looked out the front window, seeing the girls stopped in the middle of the road as well.

"Should we move?" Stiles asked, looking to Scott for permission.

"I don't know… maybe we should-"

Before Scott could finish we saw a deer run headfirst into Lydia's car, straight through the window. Even though we were a distance away, we could hear the glass smash and the girls scream inside the vehicle.

"Move. Go. Go." I pushed at Stiles and Scott, needing them to get out so I could.

We all rushed out of the car and ran up the road as the girls tumbled out from their vehicle, hurrying back towards us.

"Are you okay?" Scott went straight for Allison.

Stiles moved to Lydia. "It came out of nowhere."

"Are you hurt?" Scott checked Allison.

"It ran right into us," she explained.

"Are you okay?" He needed to know. I could feel the concern dripping off him.

Nodding, she reassured him. "I'm okay."

"Well, I'm not okay!" Lydia exclaimed. "I am totally freaking out. How the hell does it just run into us?"

Moving around the car, I headed towards the deer as it lay on the hood. Its last breath of air escaped its lungs as I stopped by its side. I could feel the last of its emotions pulsing off it as its heart came to a stop.

"I saw its eyes right before it hit us," Lydia told us as Scott came over to stand with me. "It was like it- it was like it was crazy."

"No, it was scared," Scott noted, now next to me.

Reaching forward with a careful and delicate hand, I touched its still warm fur. Its emotions rushed into me at the contact. "More like terrified."

…

Last night's events were still fresh in my mind. The image of the dead deer and the remnants of its emotions still floated in my memory. It had made sleeping a little more difficult than usual. I'd tried contacting Derek to see if he could come over or I could go to his, but I got no response.

Sleep eventually came, but I tossed and turned all night. I had a feeling it wasn't all due to the deer though. My nerves for my interview played a part as well.

Speaking of the interview. I stood in front of my floor-length mirror that hung on my wardrobe door, looking over the outfit I'd picked. Hoping it was professional enough.

My style had been simple and minimal before I'd been bitten. Leggings, t-shirts, jeans, slip dresses. White, black, with some basic colours thrown in. My hair had been longer, with fewer layers, and was barely ever out of its ponytail.

Then, with a broken heart, I'd gone all badass and sexy. Short skirts, skinny jeans, tight shirts, boots and heels. Black was my main colour, with some royal blues, purples and reds thrown in. I'd gotten my hair layered and started wearing it down more often than not.

Now, I'd relaxed a little, holding off on the sexy and badass, while still trying to make an effort to be more than simple. I was trying for an equal balance of both styles.

Today I'd chosen a pair of dark skinny jeans, a light grey top with thin straps, with my black cardigan thrown on top. My hair was back in a ponytail, high on top of my head, some loose strands of hair falling loose or tucked behind my ear.

This is good. I can do this. This is good.

Nodding to myself, feeling as confident as I was going to get, I moved towards the bathroom door, grabbing my black leather bag that hung over my shoulder and down past my hip, and my black strappy heels.

Opening the bathroom door, I found Scott in the doorway to his room, doing some pullups with one hand, while the other held the book he was reading.

His computer dinged before I could make a teasing or sarcastic comment- even though I was actually proud of the changes he'd made.

Jumping down, he gave me a small smile before looking over at his computer that sat on the dresser a step or two away. He dropped the book onto the pile of other books he'd already finished reading.

"Word of the day?" I asked.

He nodded, reading the screen. "'Ephemeral. Lasting for a short time. Transient. Momentary'." Pausing, he looked to his arm where the tattoo should have been sitting. "Ephemeral."

Grinning lightly, I walked past him and grabbed his bag. "Come on, bookworm. Stiles will be here in ten minutes."

…

Parked in the school parking lot, I climbed out of Stiles' Jeep and walked around to stand at the front before waiting for both Stiles and Scott- who had come on his dirt bike. Stiles moved to put his bag on the hood before looking through it to make sure he had everything.

"So, you heard from Derek?" he asked conversationally.

"Nope." I shook my head, leaning back on the car.

"How long has it been?"

"Six days."

Pausing, he turned to look at me, a little concerned. "And you're okay with that?"

"He's a little busy," I noted.

"True." He nodded, agreeing.

I straightened up then, seeing Scott headed our way. "Hey." I smiled at him. "You ready?"

He gave a short nod, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "Yep."

The three of us started for the entrance of the school. There were people everywhere. Parents, teachers, students, staff. It was the first day, and I could literally feel all the nervous excitement bubbling around us.

"I was thinking…" Scott started as he held the door open for Stiles and me, "you think Derek could help me with my tattoo?" he asked me.

Stiles looked to him like he was insane. "You wanna ask Derek for help? Why? Why?"

Even though Derek and I were dating, Stiles still didn't feel one hundred per cent comfortable with him. The whole Derek-turning-teens-into-werewolves thing hadn't easily been forgotten- or forgiven. Let's not forget the fact Derek and his pack had threatened- and attacked- Stiles, Scott and me a few times over the past few months.

"He's got the triskele tattooed on his back," Scott noted. "So there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?" He turned to me. "You think he'll help?"

"I mean, yeah." I shrugged. "But he's kinda busy…" We stopped at the bulletin board then, seeing the two 'Missing' posters for Erica and Boyd. "Let's not forget that Peter is still around. Derek is trying to deal with him as well."

"Look, these are the applications for the career advisor." Another voice close by caught our attention. "I need them sorted. And whatever happened to the library while I was gone, I want it cleared up." We looked around the corner and into the offices, seeing the old principal back not that Gerard was gone. "And what the hell is this?" he asked the admin lady he was with, lifting a sword from behind the desk.

I laughed lightly, pushing the boys down the hall. "Go, go, go."

We hurried away from the offices and towards Scott's locker. Stiles turned and leaned against the locker next to Scott's while I stood to the side a little, facing both him and Scott.

"When's your interview?" Stiles asked me as Scott put some books into his locker.

"It starts the same time first period does," I answered, shifting on my feet, feeling my nerves rise a little.

Scott turned to me, offering an encouraging smile. "Hey, you're gonna do great," he assured me as he closed his locker.

"Thanks." I gave him a little smile back. "And I'm sure you're gonna have a great first day. Both of you." I looked from him to Stiles.

"Yeah, you know, I thought it was going to be weird now that you've graduated. But you're here today, and if you get this job..." Stiles shrugged, not needing to finish his sentence for us to understand.

"That's just another reason why I need to do well in this interview." I nodded, reaching for my back to pull my phone out so I could check the time. "I'm gonna go wait outside the office, hopefully get in early so I can get it over and done with. I'll see you guys later?"

They both nodded in response.

Giving them one last small and a quick goodbye, I then headed down the hall and back to the offices, hoping this interview turned out as well as everyone else seemed to think it would.

…

I'd been sitting outside the offices for fifteen minutes, waiting to be called in. Part of me wondered if I should go in and ask if there was something wrong, while the other part told me to be patient. I chose the latter, settling in, promising to wait just a few more minutes.

The longer I waited the worse I felt. I'd turned my phone off, not wanting to see if my mum had messaged to ask how the meeting went yet. She had an early shift this morning but had made sure to wish me all the luck before leaving.

With my phone off, I found it hard to distract myself from my nerves. Every time I tried thinking about something else my brain just kept going back to the interview.

"McCall."

I looked up, seeing Coach Finstock walking down the hall and towards me. He looked just as he always had, his short, frizzy and thin hair unkept on top of his head and dressed in comfortable clothes both suitable for teaching and sports.

"Coach." I smiled, getting to my feet. "Didn't think it would be this soon that I'd get the chance to see you again. How is my favourite teacher?"

He smiled lightly, he continued down the hall. "You haven't even started the interview and you're already proving you're right for the job."

My smile froze for a moment. "You know about the job?"

"Of course. I'm the one giving the interview." He came to stop in front of me. "Why don't we go to my office and do this properly?"

A little stunned, all I managed was a simple nod.

"Great." He smiled before turning on his heels and heading down the hall again.

It took a second before my brain caught up and I started to follow him.

…

Coach slid into the seat behind his desk as I sat down across from him. He grabbed some paperwork and stacked it on top of more papers, before opening a drawer and pulling out another piece of paper with writing I couldn't quite see on it.

"Okay, McCall." He looked up at me, his arms folded in front of him. "You and I both know how smart you are, and how much volunteer work you've done for this school. I know you'll be studying for an associate's degree in education soon. I'm thinking that means you want to be a teacher?"

"Yes, sir." I nodded. "I'm hoping to do my associate's degree so I can be a substitute teacher, and during that time I'm planning on figuring out what subject I'd like to major in and teach later."

"I spoke to the school board, and your professors have been contacted to see what can be done to give you a head start. You've helped this school over the years, so we want to help you back." He shifted in his seat, leaning back a little more. "That's why I'm offering you the chance to work as an aid."

"An aid? You mean, like, a teacher's assistant?" I asked, trying to understand what was up for offer. "Your assistant?"

"The school board looked at your volunteer history. You've helped with a lot of the sporting events, especially for the lacrosse team. Plus, I actually don't mind you. The team seems to like you, too. And maybe you can keep your brother in line so he won't have to sit on the bench next season" He shrugged.

"He's been working at getting his grades up all summer," I assured him, offering an encouraging smile.

"Great." He smiled back. "Now, the work will be part-time, so it won't interfere with your studies, and it will be unpaid. But it will look great on your resume."

"What does a coach assistant do?" I asked, curious and sceptical.

As much as I knew the job would do wonders when I look for work later, or if I chose to transfer to another college, I didn't want to put energy into something that didn't interest me. I had my studies, work at the clinic, and let's not forget werewolf responsibilities as well. That was a lot to worry about without this extra workload.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be assisting me in economics as well," he explained. "Helping with organizing paperwork. Filling in when I need to go to meetings. Supervising. Marking. Helping students in class. Anything you can do to help make my job easier." He grinned.

Sitting there, thinking about it, the offer did actually sound pretty good. Not only would it mean I would have the upper hand when it comes to people also studying my degree, but I'll also be on campus with Stiles and Scott. I'll be on the campus I knew and love. It was familiar, comfortable. The people here knew me, and I knew them.

"Okay." Smiling I nodded. "Deal. Let's do this."

"Really?" Coach looked a little surprised. "You heard the part about it being unpaid, right?"

"You've seen all the volunteer work I've done. Not getting paid doesn't bother me," I assured him.

Knowing I was on board with it all, his smile returned. "Great!" Standing from his seat, he offered me his hand.

I stood as well, taking and shaking his hand. "When do I start?"

"How does tomorrow sound?"

Bamby