※ Chapter Rewritten 2/20/21 ※
"There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen..."
...Beacon Hills is not that place.
Where the Wild Things Are...
Chapter 1:
Bitten
The warm interior of the jeep was far cozier than the woods that surrounded it. And yet, even with the sweatshirt she bundled under and the heater on blast, a chill found its way inside Reagan's bones. Her flimsy pajama shorts and knee socks were nowhere close to being proper hiking apparel, and as such she's been left in charge of the jeep while its owner and her brother went trekking through the woods.
Her tired head lulled to the side, sparing the dashboard clock a longing look. 1:20 am. The blinking numbers mocked her, ticking away mercilessly as she was forced to wait for the idiots.
About to send yet another text threatening to leave if they didn't respond to her demands of updates, an incoming text flashed the top of her screen. Her lips thinned into a tight frown and her heart dropped to her chest.
Clara, a fellow member of the track team, had brought up the one topic she's been trying to avoid all summer. Danny Māhealani.
Reagan rubbed a tired hand over her face. At the mere mention of the yearly back to school party he hosted, she felt her stress over tomorrow rise ten-fold.
What she wouldn't do just to postpone running into him one more day. Alas, she'd be damned if people thought she was some frail little flower that crumbled at the sight of him. Giving a noncommittal reply as to whether she'd be attending or willing to loan a dress, she tossed her phone on the dashboard and buried her eyes in her hand. Suddenly the woods were forgotten as she muffled her own frustrated screams in the thick fabric of her sleeve covered hands.
So her first serious boyfriend and assumed love of her life turned out to be gay. No big deal.
But since he'd come out, people either bombarded her with questions or walked on eggshells around it. Having been avoiding both him and the topic all summer, Reagan felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to catch the first glance of him.
It still hurt sometimes. When someone would ask or talk about it. She didn't feel used, no, Danny wouldn't do that. He loved her genuinely, but just not the way he should have. Not in the way she loved him. Not in the way that first loves should love each other. The only thing that had kept her from locking herself in the house and wallowing over the loss of a first love was that Danny had to deal with something much worse. Coming out.
After losing their virginity to one another, he became distant. She chalked it up to nerves at first, hoping to make the next time better. "I hear it gets better with practice," Danny had reassured her. It had given her a false sense of security, a promise that the awkwardness that lingered between them would soon dissipate.
It would not.
She stared at him embarrassed, realizing she hadn't been able to give him the same satisfaction she had received. Just as last time, Danny seemed uncomfortable and distant after the act. Reagan held the bed sheet a little tighter around herself in an attempt to conceal her maybe not flat enough stomach, or not big enough breasts. Perhaps he didn't find her as attractive out of clothes as he did in them. She bit her lip, overcome with the sudden need to do something to get rid of this stifling awkwardness between them. "We could try it another way-"she was quick to offer. She wasn't ready for the laugh that followed. It burst from his chest and echoed through the room. Her stomach turned sickly at the sound.
He covered his face with his hands to hide his own budding tears. "I'm gay." His laugh faded into a small sob.
Reagan still distinctly remembered the feeling of shock, his rambling apology muffled in the ringing of her ears. He'd explained in detail how he hoped his sudden desire for someone else had been a knee jerk reaction, a linger thought of 'maybe' that would soon pass. But then the boy had kissed him and something felt different compared to Reagan's kisses. And now weeks later as he laid there naked with what he once thought was the most beautiful girl in the world, he felt hallow. No matter what she did, no matter what they tried, it wouldn't work because he just didn't and couldn't love her that way. No matter how hard he or she tried.
The "I can't love you." would haunt her.
They sat in silence on his bed for what felt like hours before she finally snapped. Danny's frantic and heartfelt apologies where white noise to her as she moved on auto-pilot. She got dressed, found her keys, and turned down the picture of them on his dresser before she left. She didn't look back as he called her name, too afraid to show the fat tears that rolled steadily down her red face.
"I can't love you."
For the next week, she stayed near silent. Her mother and brother growing concerned when she had a hard time eating, and seemed to be sniffling when they weren't looking. The stress of upcoming finals, they chalked it up to. Reagan had always been so school focused. It wasn't until she began taking down the pictures and movie tickets, and little random trinkets of her and Danny's time together that she had once held so dear, that they grew worried. It wouldn't be until another week, the day before summer, that Danny would admit it to his parents and friends until finally, it reached back to the McCall home.
Melissa hadn't asked if it was true. She simply walked into her daughter's room and sat beside her, her open arms an invitation to finally let it all out now that she no longer had to keep it to herself. In her moment of teenage heartbreak, Scott had run to the convenience store on his bike and spent half of his first paycheck on things to make her happy. Candy, Movies, and one too many boxes of popcorn. She spent that first week of summer with Stiles and Scott watching everything and anything in the house. By the second, she and Scott had thrown themselves into new jobs and prepping for sports next year.
But now summer was over. There would be no more mourning, no more weeping, and sure as hell no pathetic text drafts to ask Danny "How are you?". The guy he had begun happily dating a few weeks ago seemed to answer that. She was no longer that lovesick little girl. It was time to woman up and focus on more important things...like where the hell those idiots she loved most were.
Pulling up Scott's contact her thumb hovered over the phone icon as a small shiver ran up her spine. Trying not to overreact she peered out into the darkened woods, the moon doing little for lighting with the thick trees and brush. Her heart rate picked up just a bit, and she quickly locked the doors to Stiles jeep before pressing the button. Her worry now worse.
"Scott" Reagan sighed when the phone was answered. "It's been long enough. We have school tomorrow." Her eyes darting to and fro trunks and brush as they swayed and moved with the wind. At least it should be wind. The phone connection crackled and hissed. "Seriously, Scott. It's time to go. I'm really freaking out. I think there may be someone here." She clutched the keys a bit tighter as she leaned forward, once more trying to inspect the shapes on the other side of the car. The thought she might need glasses crossing her mind as she swore she saw a blur of movement between the trees.
Tap-tap-tap
An embarrassing hiccup of a scream forced its way past her lips as she quickly turned back towards the window. Smiling in equal parts bashfulness and guilt, she rolled down the window.
"I remember very distinctly, the selling point of giving Stiles this jeep was that he wouldn't have to drag you two into things like this." Sheriff Stilinski appeared worn out as he peered in at her. His blue eyes had a few extra lines as a by-product of his troubled job and even more troublesome son. "Where's the second monkey?" He questioned, going as far as to shine the flashlight in at her and the rest of the empty jeep.
"If he's smart, nowhere I'll ever find him." She glared at the woods half blinded by the flashlight. The other jeep door was roughly pulled open, Stiles protesting the rough treatment as he was all but pushed into the seat before the door loudly slammed on him.
"This is borderline brutality." He whined.
"I'll show you brutality." Stilinski threatened. "What the hell did you think you were gonna accomplish here, anyway?"
"Help you find the body if not the kil-"
Sheriff rolled his eyes, not willing to let his son finish. "It was a cougar!" He nearly shouted at them, at his wits end with this absurd rumor.
"Ye-yeah," Stiles stuttered. "That's why I brought cat-girl." He pointed to Reagan. "I mean… Cougars are just, like, big, big cats...right?"
Per usual, the Sheriff saw his son was a lost cause, so directed his order to the one with common sense. "Go. HOME. Reagan." He glowered at his son. "and take the degenerate with you."
"Sure thing, Sheriff." She forced a smile, her cheeks hurting from the strain of her gritted teeth. It wasn't until the officers had left that she flung her arm out, smacking Stiles dead in the chest while he hunched to cover his precious boyhood. "Cat-girl?" She seethed, hating the images of spinsterhood and crazy old women it put in her head.
"I deserved that." He admitted weakly, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out. Buckling up he began brushing the leaves and spider webs from his jeans and shoes, oblivious to the hard stare he was receiving until he came face to face with her pointed dagger gaze.
"Y-uh?" He slightly cowered "Sorry?" He seemed confused as to what she was waiting for.
"Stiles?"
"Yeah?" He eased up, oblivious to forming storm beside him.
"Where's Scott?" She asked simply.
Stiles froze once more, his mouth dropping open and a hesitant "Uhhh…" stretching out as he tried to buy himself time.
It wasn't until closer to three in the morning Scott McCall stumbled through the front door. His hand pressed against the sharp pain in his side in an effort to stop the constant throbbing that came from the injury. Scott turned on the hall light, his scrunched face easing into a guilty awe at the sight of his sister asleep on the bottom step. Her head and shoulder leaned against the wall for support, her cellphone held limply in hand. She'd waited up for him, worried and ready to call the police, or worse, their mother.
Gently shaking her awake he smiled apologetically at her sleepy mumbles of scolding, helping her to her room to avoid her tripping over her uncoordinated feet. His grip tightened, as he looked at the old creaking steps. A sudden dose of fear rushing through him at the thought the damage these steps had done to her once before, and what worse they could do still.
He still got goosebumps whenever he remembers the cold teal room she laid in for too long. A freak accident it may have been but he'd never get over the fact his father could have stopped it.
Exhausted himself, he frustratedly rubbed his eyes as he headed towards his own room across the hall. He still had to clean out the wounds before they got infected. Entering the hallway his brows furrowed as he witnessed Reagan's two cats, Max and Mischief, curl into the corner to growl and hiss at him, lashing out once before taking the opportunity to dart into her room and under her bed.
It was only these grumbles and hisses that made Reagan stir, her blue eyes weakly opening to witness her brother shut her door before falling back to sleep, resting easier with the knowledge he was safe. If only for a few hours or so.
The gentle kneading of her lower back roused Reagan from the sweet darkness of sleep. For a few blissful minutes, she believed the previous night's misadventures to be that of a strange stress-induced dream. Stretching her arms high over her head her bleary eyes turned towards the cats scratching at the door, a sudden jolt sending her to her feet and the hazy memory of being tucked in last night. The felines gave a startled yowl as they leaped away from her, off to do their own morning routine as Reagan's drowsy body collided harshly with the door across the hall.
The door suddenly flying open made Scott jump from his place in front of his bathroom sink. He gagged in surprise, the toothbrush in hand accidentally pushed towards the back of his throat.
"Where the hell were you?!" She hissed, her hushed voice not hiding the anger she felt at being left to worry all night. Certain their mother was home by now, Reagan closed the door behind her before any further conversation could be overheard. Scott spit into the sink she rested her hip against. Her folded arms and narrowed gaze were a prized imitation of their mother. Scott always found that funny, that they could be so alike.
"I know, I'm sorry!" He set his toothbrush, wiping his mouth. He turned towards her, his dark eyes mimicking that of an injured puppy. He stuttered at first before he was able to list all the things that had gone wrong last night. "I found the body, my phone got dropped in a puddle, I lost my inhaler and something bit me!" He finished with a pained whine. Definitely a kicked puppy.
"Bit you?!" Reagan eyed him, dubious of the claim. His tone suggested more than a little knick from a mosquito or rare tick.
"Yeah! And then when I got out of the woods I-" Scott stopped mid-sentence. His elder sister had always been left in charge of him, always looking out for him. She stared at him with a look of concern softening her pinched features. "I had to walk back to the house, so that took awhile." There was no need to give his sister a panic attack, or worse, reason to hit him, so he skimmed over the part where he nearly got hit by a car. Never the best liar, the simple omission of the truth made him shift his weight from one foot to the other under her unwavering gaze.
"What do you mean something bit you?" She moved from the doorway to give him room to exit following him into the bedroom before taking a seat on his messy bed.
"I think I got bit by a wolf." He held no hint of irony, already having made up his mind when he bandaged the bite last night. Raising his shit, he showed her the clean bandage he'd put on last night, now spotted with blood from the deeper puncture wounds. The wrap would make their mother proud.
Concerning as it was, she couldn't help but smile gently, trying not to laugh. Like Stiles, his imagination often got the better of him. "I don't think California has wolves." Certainly none that big, she thought, eyeing the size of the wound suspiciously. She gently touched the bandage, brows furrowing at the rather canine appearance to the bloody echo seeping through. "Are you sure you didn't just fall on a rock or bark?" She asked as he pulled his shirt down. Despite the size, it seemed to give him only mild discomfort. "If it was bloody you might have just-"
"And summertime countdown begins!" Their mother's voice carried through the door.
Reagan stopped as soon as the door opened, their mother's smiling face nearly beaming. Her dark curls a tangled mess after her hectic shift, they did nothing to subtract from the barely aged beauty of their mother. Blessed with great genetics, the only sign of the Italian-Latina's true age were the light creases across her forehead and the shallow smile lines around her mouth. Melissa McCall's smiling face, not unlike that of her son's, faulted for a moment from surprise.
Not only were her children up, they were up together. As close as they had been as children, it would seem only natural that upon entering high-school they went their different ways. A new school had brought with it new friends, new activities, and new social circles. However, since her daughter's breakup with one such popular boy, it seemed they had once more returned to their thick as thieves mentality. Her oldest baby's pain was unwanted. The same could not be said about the outcome.
So excited by the prospect of things returning to normal, she chose not to linger on the suspicious way they had both gone silent at her entrance. "Well, this certainly saves some time." Melissa grinned. "Breakfast and pictures in 45 minutes!"
"Mom!" The two groaned, neither excited for the yearly tradition of first-day pictures. But their protests weren't solely for themselves. Now that their mother had taken to double, and on rare occasions triple, shifts they didn't want her awake any longer than she needed to be.
"Time's ticking. Pictures happening dressed or not and breakfast will be eaten before you leave!" She left no room for argument as she left them to finish getting ready.
Knowing her mother wouldn't hesitate to catch her in an acne mask, Reagan jumped from the bed and rushed towards her own bathroom to get ready for the day. Scott continued packing his stuff only to have his door open once more. Reagan's head popped through the opening. "You need a ride?" She glanced down at the hidden injury on his side, sure to make the simple twenty-minute bike ride hell.
Scott paused, taking stock of the injury only to cast her a shy smile. "Nah, I'll be fine. It doesn't hurt that much."
"Really?" Reagan gave him a bemused stare. She chalked it up to male pride. But Scott's smile grew to a grin.
"Actually, I feel kinda great." He almost laughed, realizing that despite last night and his side, he had indeed felt more energized than he had in some time. Returning to his packing, he missed the look of awed skepticism that passed Reagan's face as she eased the door closed once more.
Taking the seat in the furthest corner of the room, Reagan allowed her bag to slide off her shoulder and onto the floor next to her. She exchanged polite smiles at classmates and friends as the rest of the class entered just short of the late bell. Those smiles abruptly stopped when Stiles pushed past two teens, crashing into the wall in an effort to beat another student to the seat in front of her. Across Stiles and a row up, Scott took his own seat. Her brother spared her a sympathetic look, unable to stop him from making a scene.
"Have you seen Lydia tod-?" Stiles was shameless.
"No." Reagan cut him off. She hadn't seen Jackson, or Lydia or anyone else from the group she used to call her friends before they seemed to cut her out during the summer. "Now shut up and pay attention." She hissed as he already began drawing the ire of their new history teacher going through introductions.
"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." Ms. Wilcox didn't bother to mince words as he started writing on the chalkboard. Stiles straightened in his seat, a ball of tangible excitement since Scott had told him what had happened once they split apart. As if seeing this, Wilcox continued, "And I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened."
"There's a serial killer targeting young girls in the woods," Stiles whispered back at her. Reagan kicked the back of his seat. Stiles turned around, biting his lip to keep from laughing at her scornful expression. He was enjoying this bout of unsurety from the normally unshakable girl.
She knew full well he was just trying to get a rise out of her, knowing how often she and her team went running through those woods during track season. She'd let him have his fun, knowing he'd be burned out and bored of it by the end of the week.
"-Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk for the semester." Reagan opened the thin packet on her desk. She had barely listened as Wilcox read aloud the front page, her eyes and attention stolen by the window next to her. Or rather, what laid outside it.
Across the field, and behind the parking lot rested the forest once more. Her eyes glanced at them a few times before turning her attention back to the papers. Though maybe too focused. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing became shallow and for a few moments, it felt like she shut down, like finding a spot on the wall and just...fading away.
The room had gone silent except for the occasional tap and squeak coming from Mr. Wilcox's whiteboard. It left her to enter a daze of utter and complete distraction until the large room door gave a resounding click and creak. Reagan's eyes began to ache as she finally turned away from the woods.
"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."
She reminded her of Snow White, Reagan decided. Extremely pretty with brown curls falling well past her shoulders, she was thin and well dressed, if not a bit timid under the gazes of the entire class. Reagan guessed she'd be hunted down by Lydia before lunch…
"Ms. McCall?" Wilcox demanded her attention. "Be so kind as to pass out the books on the shelf behind you?"
Five hundred feet away, a shadowy figured watched the classroom, retreating further back into the trees.
For most, the first day had passed quickly. A deception of the days to come. This applied mainly to the majority of students already clearing out for the parking lot, ready and eager to go home for one final night of no homework what so ever. Small clusters of students still lingered, getting ready to begin their extra-curricular activities.
"She's doing it again." Clara smiled as she and her friend Alicia walked up to Stilinski.
Behind him stood the McCall siblings. While the boys were focused on watching the new girl chatting with Lydia Martin, Reagan stood before her open locker, eyes staring intently yet unfocused at the book in her hand. Kafka's The Metamorphosis was not what any of the teenager's would call riveting but it might just hold the answers to the universe the way Reagan was staring at its cover.
Clara waved her hand beside Reagan, getting no reaction.
"Can someone tell me how new girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" Alicia studied the now growing group of school leaders behind her.
"Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together." Stiles shrugged before turning around to the older McCall. "Wait, why aren't you herding?" He poked the side of her pretty face. The physical touch seemed to finally awaken her, starting her back up again. Clara covered her mouth to muffle a small laugh. It was like hitting an old computer when it froze.
The blonde turned over the book and spared a quick glance over the back. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment," she mumbled. The fingers of her other hand skimmed over the mix of Sophomore and Junior courses in her locker. Finding what she was looking for, she plucked out a Geometry II textbook to slide Kafka in it's place. She slammed her locker closed, not indulging the glances from the other group it gained.
Zoned out as she may seem, she rarely missed a thing. "Breaking up in high school's like a divorce." She explained to Stiles. "I keep the friends I had before I went into the relationship and he keeps the friends he had before the relationship." She glanced at Lydia - who had aligned with Jackson - who was bound by bro-code to side with Danny as they two had been best friends since grade school.
Reagan's lips twisted to the side as she recognized the green cotton shirt he wore as one she'd begrudgingly returned to him. The reminder of the loss of comfy guys clothes she could no longer cuddle up in and the lack of attached guy to cuddle her made her chest twinge painfully. "I've also lost half my wardrobe and my cats are acting out." She joked to cover the hint of sadness she knew crossed her face.
"So then you're totally free to sleep at my place, Friday?" Alicia and Clara stared at her expectantly. it wasn't even stealthy the way she'd been hiding all summer.
Reagan spared a quick look over their shoulders, giving only a non-committal "Love to," before she began to backpedal away. She waved a polite goodbye to the four of them as she explained, "I've got a meeting at the front office. Text you later!" She turned and walked briskly away.
Stiles shouted for her attention, reminding her that she was meant to meet them at practice. Reagan gave a thumbs up before disappearing down the stairs. "I don't think she's coming." He sighed.
The four teens turned their attention back to the popular group further down the hall. The cause of Regan's sudden departure midway between the groups. Danny Māhealani stopped his approach, disappointment clear on his face as he watched his ex-girlfriend's smoke trail. His lacrosse bag over his own shoulders, he raised a hand in shy greeting at the group of sophomores ahead. Popular met unpopular as they each stared. Danny, feeling both groups of eyes on him tried to recover some grace. "I'll, uh, see you guys at practice." He waved them off as he passed.
"How long do you think she'd gonna pretend he doesn't exist?" Stiles asked aloud as he and Scott awkwardly returned the gesture. From behind him, Clara snorted.
"However long he lets her."
Scott had the distinct feeling he wouldn't hear his sister cheering for him today...
"Alright, starting to worry now." Reagan huffed. She had a feeling Scott wasn't fully paying attention to where he was leading them, too involved in recounting the story of his magnificence at practice. She was proud. So very proud, and even very more surprised. Unfortunately for him, she knew no matter how good he did, the athletic department would never allow Coach to put a severely asthmatic kid on first line.
Speaking of which, the brand new $80 inhaler they were meant to be searching for was yet to be even discussed by anyone but her. At least she and Scott were searching for it. Stiles only seemed interested when the words "dropped it next to the body" were uttered. It was the inevitable ass-chewing they would get from their mom that had spurred her into agreeing to enter the woods.
Using a fallen tree as a bridge, they crossed the thin brook that ran through the forest, unaware of the natural boundary that signified the end of the preserve.
"And that's not the only weird thing. I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to. Smell things-"
"Smell things, like what?" Stiles challenged.
Scott turned and continued walking backwards, looking to the sky as he took a simple sniff. "Like the Mint Mojito gum in your pocket. And the sour-candy in your bag." He eyed his sister's bag. She didn't bother checking, shrugging her shoulders. She always had candy somewhere in her bag. But Stiles was far more impressed.
Mumbling to himself he checked his jacket pocket only to pull out a half torn piece of gum.
"Impressive." Reagan agreed, swatting Stiles's hand away when he tried to check her bag. "But can you find an inhaler in a forest?" She challenged, trying to get them back on the task at hand, waving her hand at the acres of forest around them.
"I'm not psychic." Scott shrugged. Almost disappointed he couldn't help.
Reagan stared him down, not amused by his innocent sarcasm. "Oh, but you're something, right?" She mocked. She released a long suffered groan, pushing them to keep going.
Stiles took the opening with glee. "So this all started with a bite?"
"By a wolf!" Reagan chimed in, a closed mouth grin stretching her face and she repeated his theory.
"In California?"
"Where there are no wolves." She pointedly spread her arms out to the mostly silent woods around them, only the leaves crunching below them and the birds chirping above them.
Scott stopped to look back at his two best friends with a sour expression. He hated it when they seemed to meld minds to gang up on him. Shaking his head he turned back around and moved their direction slightly towards the west. They could mock him all they wanted but he was almost certain about it. A dark thought suddenly entered his mind. Once more, he stopped their parade, halting all progress as he turned towards them once more.
"What if it's like an infection?! Like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?!"
His sister pushed him a little harder to continue on. "Then I call your room when you die. Don't worry we'll have a wake. We'll cry. You'll be dearly missed." She droned, sparing the woods around them a quick surveyance.
"You know what? I think I've heard of this." Stiles tisked, sounding like he had been tasked with delivering the bad news.
"No, you haven't!" She called bullshit. "Are we close?" She tried yet again to bring up the inhaler.
"Are you serious?" Scott stopped dead yet again, ignoring his sister who passed him.
"NO!" Reagan voiced over. She was tired, she had homework from her AP classes already and she still had to drive to work to pick up her paycheck tonight. Yet here she was: stuck in the middle of the woods waiting for some kind of direction.
Stiles put his hands on his hips, a rather good imitation of the Sheriff when he was forced to give bad news. "It's called lycanthropy."
"What is that?! Is that bad?!" Scott gulped.
Reagan was forced to stop herself. She glanced at the boys over her shoulder, unable to handle the absurdity of the conversation. Her eyes rolled themselves so hard her neck straightened at the force of it. Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued deeper into the forest, eyes focused on the ground around them.
"Idiots, the both of you." She whispered.
Taking extra care, she skidded down the steep hillside and grabbed the branch of a smaller, weaker tree to steady herself from landing on her face. This looked like the area Scott described. Looking back up, she realized the boys were out of sight, only the low murmur of their distant voices heard as they slowly began following after her. "This the spot?" She called out to them, inspecting the few rocks and seemingly ripped pieces of an oak trunk that littered the area. Maybe he did just hurt himself falling, she thought.
Her scouting of the area stopped when she heard the repetitive crunching of leaves, like footsteps. The thing that alarmed her; however, was that they were coming from the wrong direction.
"-trying to melt all the silver I can find it's 'cause Friday's a full moon." Reagan turned around to see the buffoons emerge from atop the hill. Scott skid down the area without any help where as Stiles landed on his ass halfway down. 'Graceful' had never been a word used to describe him.
A bewildered Scott rubbed the back of his neck, seeing no sign of the blue and white plastic he had been so sure he'd dropped amidst the blanket of orange, red, and browns. "I could've sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running..." Joining him in the search, Reagan began sifting through the ocean of fallen leaves. The wind late last night had shaken entire trees almost bare.
"Maybe the killer came back and moved the body?" Stiles offered. He was more disappointed by the missing corpse he'd been assured was there than the lost inhaler.
"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks."
"Keep looking." Reagan chided moving through the area. So intent on sifting through the leaves, a new presence went unnoticed by all but Stiles. He hit Scott's shoulder, hard enough for him to flinch.
"Uh, Rea..." The boy's voice made her peer up, his gesture to her right made her sight follow.
An imposing figure, dressed in all black, had somehow snuck upon them without a sound.
Reagan took a step back, her heart stamping her chest as the stranger followed with a step forward. Thick brows, the same black as his cropped hair, pinched together over light eyes as he stalked towards them. In a slight cat and mouse game, they moved in sync.
"What are you doing here?" Another and another, he continued to approach for every step Reagan retreated until she finally refused to move further. The boys kept close to either side of her as they eyed him warily. Taller than any of the trio and broader too, his near scowling face was rather off-putting. "This is private property."
"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know." Stiles tried to apologize. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, the stranger raised his brows in disbelief as if it should have been common knowledge. Stiles's own brows furrowed as he began piecing together an identity to the stranger.
Reagan stood a little straighter, not taking well to his silent accusation. As the oldest, she kept herself in front of the two boys, hand vaguely waving to the unmarked trees around them. "There's no sign or gate." She boldly challenged. She didn't much care for the way he stared at her brother.
He didn't scream danger in the traditional sense.
The definition to his jaw and brow, paired with the hint of a five o'clock shadow emerging under his pale skin, illuminated he was older, if not by much. Dressed in dark jeans and a black tee under his leather jacket, there was nothing entirely noticeable about him at first glance. There was no chainsaw or hatchet in sight, in fact if not for the clear displeased scowl on his face he might simply look like any normal peeved twenty-something. But there was something about the way he scrutinized them that set Reagan's spine straight. Known, but unspoken, that even three-to-one they were easily outmatched.
Scott shuffled closer to his sister as he was stared down over her shoulder.
Reagan's hand tightened to a first around the shoulder strap of her leather messenger bag. Caught in the cross-lines of his cold stare, she suddenly wished she was wearing a jacket over her fashion-over-function sweater. "Sorry, we didn't catch your name…" It was equal parts disarmingly polite and challengingly forceful.
His eyes flickered to her, sizing her up once before turning back to Scott as if he was the only one worth keeping an eye on.
The younger McCall tried to play peacemaker, taking a less abrasive approach than his sister. "We were just looking for something but...uh, forget it." He finished quietly. He'd already given up hope on finding the inhaler, certain now more than ever they wouldn't be sticking around to search much longer.
He barely saw the slide of hand as the unfamiliar man pulled something from his jacket pocket before launching it at him. With his blossoming talents, Scott caught it easily despite the distance. Reagan's eyes lingered on the blue and white inhaler before going back to the now retreating leather-clad back of the stranger. He hadn't given a name, nor did he seem interested in removing them any longer.
"T-thanks." Scott barely managed in his stupor. He was honestly just overjoyed at the idea he didn't have to buy a new one.
"Do we know him?" Reagan finally turned towards Stiles who had kept his mouth partly open.
"Dude! I think that's Derek Hale!" He slapped her shoulder with the back of his hand, her own annoyed retaliation swiftly following. When she looked back, all signs of the other male was gone. "Spooky~" Stiles sang.
"Who's Derek Hale?" Scott confessed.
"His family all burned to death in a fire, like, six years ago. Like all of them." Stiles tastelessly summarized the tragedy. He glanced around the small clearing, wondering just how close they were be to the infamous ruins. He turned his gaze to Reagan and wondered just how much she remembered. "Hey, isn't he only a few years older than you?"
Reagan didn't answer. Despondent, her eyes never left the spot he'd just been. Something itch in the back of her mind, a familiarity she couldn't place now that the name had been given.
The Hale House Fire was a recurring headline for months as police and journalists alike wondered what had caused the fire that had taken nearly twenty lives. A tragedy on it's own, the fact it had occurred the evening the entire family had seemed to gather made a shadow of sinisterism follow the tale. In a single night, the town would never forget an entire bloodline had nearly been wiped off the map. A rather old and wealthy family at that. The only young survivors had conveniently been out of the house at the time of the fatal accident despite the late hour. They had been run out of town along with their new fortunes, by the force of rumors and suspicion alone, never to be heard from again. Or so the story went...
"He had a sister our age, Carly, I think." Stiles finished, seeing no recognition in Scott's saddened face. He gave him the benefit of the doubt. Not all teenagers had the penchant for digging into macabre unsolved cases he did...
"Cora." Reagan corrected. The name, like the memory, felt more like a dream she'd woken up from too quickly. One she was unable to explain the reason or the ending of.
Seeing his sister begin to fade Scott hit her arm with the back of his hand. Like she always did, she immediately came to focus and changed the topic. "I'm late picking up my check and you're late for work." She scolded him. "Move it, Hardy boys." The brushed her hair back behind her ear before pushing the shell shocked Stiles back towards the trail. He'd definitely being looking up that case later...
Reagan had woken up Tuesday morning to find the house empty. Assuming her mother was pulling a double and Scott had left early for practice, she thought nothing of it. It wasn't until she was met with Stiles's own questioning gaze and shrugged shoulders that she began to worry. First and second period came and went and during their small reprieve of classes, Reagan wasted no time laying into the boy.
"Scott! Where the hell are you?! Stiles and I've covered for you twice now but you miss another class and they're calling mo-" She wasn't able to finish as Stiles came up behind her and plucked the phone from her hand
"Dude, if you're not here for third period you can't go to practice. Coach is deciding first line TODAY!" He nervously ran a hand over his buzz cut, ruffling the barely there hair. The warning bell rang out once more above them. Reagan ripped the phone back, giving her brother one final warning of their mother's wrath before heading to class.
Her short walk was rudely interrupted by a sudden shout from behind. "Don't kill me!"
Reagan was propelled forward by the sudden force of her brother running into her. She turned on him with a wild look in her eye, not missing his messy hair and disheveled appearance.
"Oh you're brave!" She scoffed at his audacity. "Where the hell have you been?!" She slapped his arm.
"The woods."
Her mouth softly fell open, her left eye scrunching in total confusion as she stared at him expectantly. A beat of tense silence passed. He didn't explain any further.
"Why?!" She loudly prompted him.
"I don't know!" He whined, looking equally perplexed but far more frazzled by the strange morning.
The late bell cut the conversation short. Scott nervously bounced on the heel of his foot, cursing this morning as he realized he was soon to miss the period that could cut him from the team.
"I'm not finished with you!" She called after him, her own tardiness falling to the wayside at the curve-ball. Scott ignored the thin threat, paying no mind to the warning to watch his asthma as he ran effortlessly without wheezing.
But sure enough, the indecent slipped from her mind the moment she saw her ex walking heading straight for her. Her mind going blank, she panicked and searched around for a desperate escape route. She turned clumsily into the next hallway, nearly flattening her face with an open locker in her haste. Mortified further at her cowardliness, Reagan had willed herself to forget the disastrous morning.
And forget she did.
Come Friday afternoon, all she could think about was getting out of the school and sinking into the stress-free zone of Clara's hot tub. When the final bell rang, she collected her things and wished her brother good luck on his date. She didn't even stay long enough to tease him as a proper sibling should before she headed home to clean up and fix their mother dinner.
"That smells amazing!" Her mother moaned. Melissa greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek, rubbing her daughter's back appreciatively. "You should have woken me up," She lightly scolded.
With her children's school and sports taking up most of the day, and Melissa working dusk till dawn, their different schedules had proved to be a challenge with summer ending. Like any mother, she wanted to spend as much time with her children as she could get before they were gone. Especially her daughter, who at age eighteen seemed to be halfway out the door as she pushed herself too hard, too fast to catch up on the years she'd missed after the accident. Lately, it felt like she was gonna wake up after another 24-hour shift only to discover both her babies to be grown.
Melissa brushed the hair from Reagan's face, admiring her first baby the way mothers often do: proud, loving, and a little amused. She let the lock of dark blonde hair wrap around her finger, feeling how soft it still was after all these years. Reagan turned to her, her blue eyes slightly narrowed in question as she spared a small smile. "What?" She shifted nervously under the scrutiny.
Melissa shrugged, "Nothing, just wondering when my beautiful babies grew up." It both thrilled and broke her heart seeing her children thrive.
Reagan's paler cheeks gave a slight blush, blindly pushing her mother's hand away as bashfully laughed it off. They had the same laugh, Melissa smiled to herself.
They shared no DNA, but Melissa McCall could see herself in her daughter. Her laugh, her strength, her protective nature… But there was something more in those blue eyes, a spark of life and challenge that made her take on anything that came her way. It was that spark that let her know the moment she held her in her arms, she was meant to be hers.
"How are those AP classes coming?" She asked, dipping a finger into the spaghetti sauce she was making. "I know you can handle it, but are you sure you don't wanna have a bit more free time this year?"
Reagan rolled her eyes, scratching her leg with the other foot. She's been read the same riot act from her counselor days before. "Fine." She tilted her head, staring thoughtfully into the bubbling sauce.
"Do your homework?" Melissa reached into the cupboards, pulling out a coffee cup and starting a new batch.
"Yep."
Melissa pursed her lips at the short answers. "Anything interesting happen this week?" She probed, pulling out the creamer and sugar.
On the other side of the kitchen, Reagan observed her mother through the microwave's reflection. She briefly wondered if she should mention the encounter with Derek Hale, curious to see what her mother remembered of the infamous family. Unfortunately, to explain that would first require explaining why they were in the woods to begin with. Reagan's eyes dropped back to the sauce she was stirring. "Nope." She schooled her voice, assuming the sheriff hadn't told her about the late night in the woods since their mother had yet to bring it up in the past week.
Melissa suddenly turned around, the silverware drawer shaking as she suddenly closed it. Reagan spared her mother a glance over her shoulder from the small clattering of the utensils. A hand on her hip, Melissa brandished the fork she had pulled threateningly. Reagan felt her heart drop in her stomach, thinking they'd been caught.
"If you don't respond with more than one-word answers, I swear, I will stick you with this fork." Her mother warned.
Reagan kept her face passive, that spark of challenge in her eyes. She called her bluff. "Okay."
Her mother took a step forward and Reagan squealed, "I love you!" in feigned fright. "That's three!" She called out as her mother wrapped her arms around her, flinching from what was to come.
"Mwah!" Came the vocal kiss to her head. She took the slotted spoon from her hand. "You head over to Clara's, honey, I'll finish it."
"You sure?" Reagan asked, eager to get going but reluctant to leave.
"Yeah, have fun. And be safe." She wasn't playing when she pointed her finger this time. "I don't want you running through those woods until that cougar's found."
Reagan raised her hands as she backed out of the kitchen, assuring there would be no argument from her on the matter. Her retreat was halted only momentarily when he mother called her back in. "What do you know about this girl Scott likes?" She grinned, hoping for something to tease him with.
"New. Pretty. Doe-eyed." Reagan shrugged. "Haven't met her yet." She summarized.
"Huh, okay." Melissa was a bit disappointed, feeling she may have put too much stock into that morning seeing them together. "Go relax, baby." Melissa shooed her away.
And sure enough, she did. The night at Clara's, a clear but subtle way to keep her mind off the party Danny was throwing, was filled with light drinking, cheesy movies and plenty of soaking in that muscle melting hot tub.
It was late the next morning when she walked back through the door. She felt like a new person, or rather; the old, happier her.
Dropping her bag in front of her door, she lightly knocked before opening her brother's ajar door. Stiles sat on the end of the bed beside her brother, a lacrosse ball in his fidgeting hands. "So how was your date?" She smiled mischievously, ready to tease him the way she should have last night. Whatever he wouldn't tell her she could easily pull out of Stiles later. Upon her own cloud of glee, she had missed the tension in the room.
Scott raised his head that had been tucked to his chest. His sister's smile fell at the sight of the two boys less than thrilled looks on their rather exhausted faces.
"Not well, I take it." She probed gently, knowing by the way Stiles avoided her eyes alone that something more than a bad date had occurred.
Stiles shifted nervously, scratching his cropped hair and looking to Scott to say something. A less than subtle conversation unfolded before her eyes before Stiles finally slapped his shoulder, trying to make him say something.
"What's wrong?" Her voice was soft but firm, not letting him brush aside whatever it was that was hurting him so badly. The tension in the room was palpable. Her brother was worried and scared, and it transferred to her the moment she stepped into the room. She looked to Stiles, only to see him abruptly turn his eyes away, knowing he had little strength when it came to her stare-downs. "Scotty?" She tried with a hint of fear.
"Promise you won't hit me?" Scott swallowed.
Reagan felt her heart fall into her stomach at the timid voice. Sitting beside her brother, she gave him a weak "No…" She suspected it wasn't his usual foolishness that had gotten him into trouble this time, yet was unwilling to make it feel any more serious than it was.
With a heavy sigh, he told her everything.
※ Feel Good! by Mike Del Rio ※
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