※ Chapter Rewritten 2/20/21 ※ Sorry it's so long...
"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 3:
Second Chance at First Line
The rest of the day following Scott's confession felt almost numb. A blur of emotions, hushed words, and Stiles' flailing hands as his ADHD showed itself full-force. The sudden nerves that had taken over him causing him to pace around the room, cutting through the story at every pause until both siblings had threatened to kick him out. It was a joke at first. At least that's what she told herself. But as the day continued, the evidence and testimonials continued to mount until, without argument, Scott had convinced her it was all real. After all, what reason could he possibly have for making up the part where a group of men chased him through the woods and shot an arrow into his arm.
Reagan held the appendage in hand, tracing her fingers over the spot he said had been ripped through. The skin was healed and flawless, no physical trace of the encounter left beside the shaken terror in his eyes as he recounted the tale. The severity of that look was what sold it.
Her brother was a werewolf…
… and there were people trying to kill him.
The trio argued amongst themselves, early into the night as to whom they could tell; if anyone. The argument was settled for them when their mother returned from her second shift. Brushed aside her questioning of the night before, a look was shared between them. If they couldn't bring themselves to tell their mother, who else could they tell? It silently cemented the secret was to remain among the three of them.
The teens had split apart, making various excuses as they used her entrance to make exits of their own. Stiles left under the guise of needing to return home. Her brother having fallen into a well deserved sleep, Reagan had made herself a comforting cup of cocoa and retreated to the porch swing outside.
Curling up on the large wooden bench, she held the warm cup in her hand and watched the people of their neighborhood leave for errands and dates. The earth spun on without incident despite the fact it felt like her entire world had come to a screeching halt.
She stared at the simple flowers that had grown to rest just above the edge of the porch floor. Watching the small white petals grow pinkish under the setting sun, she fell back into a daze. Unresponsive to the world around her, a barrage of thoughts and fears began racing through her mind at just what this meant for her brother.
She mindlessly took another sip of her coffee, the now cold liquid proving she'd been lost in thought more than the minute she felt she'd been. Jarred by the change, she realized there was a dark form casting a shadow over her flowers. Reagan narrowed her eyes, already suspecting she wouldn't like what she found.
There stood Derek Hale on the yard before her. His face was expressionless, giving nothing away as he stared straight at her. She didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but he seemed to take their eye contact as an invitation to approach. Her furrowed brows deepened for every step he took up to the porch. Sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, he appeared indifferent to her coldest of glares.
"What are you doing here?" She asked. Cautiously, but not unkindly. According to Scott; he had indeed saved her brother's life, even if that's not the way Scott had chosen to phrase it.
His eyes rolled up eyeing the roof of the porch and the bedroom window he knew rest above it. "Just testing something."
"Well test it elsewhere." She regained some of her bite, having the distinct feeling said test involved her brother.
Derek's eyes fell back to her. "I'm not the bad guy here."
"No? You certainly aren't the good guy, either, Derek." She shook her head in apathy, unable to know the small pain it gave him. "He told me everything."
"Then you know I saved his life." He frowned, returning her stoic gaze.
The silence that followed would be enough to make most other people squirm. But not Reagan. And certainly not Derek. He took the time to look into her blue eyes, studying her in-depth now that he was closer.
Reagan was not one to jump to conclusions. Often considered "soft" she tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. God knows she needed it after her accident but no one had ever done what Derek had done. He had placed her baby brother in this whole other world. A dangerous world where werewolves roamed the forest and men with crossbows shot at children. One she didn't know how to protect him from which in turn made her frustrated and angry. And she was lashing out at him. "If that's what you want to call it…"
The front door opened, a mop of messy black curls popping through the opening. "Hey, I'm-" Melissa McCall had almost missed the young man standing in front of her daughter. "Hello!"
Reagan silently fumed when he had the nerve to actually smile. His scruff covered face brightened charmingly to reveal a set of dimples. The loss of his seemingly standard scowl highlighted his chiselled jawline, his eyes taking on a softer look as he batted his dark lashes at the older woman. Reagan nearly snorted into her cup, too bad he was kinda an ass.
Glancing back and forth between her daughter and the handsome stranger, Melissa raised her eyebrows in question before retreating. "Sorry, uh, just giving you a heads up. I'm making pancakes for dinner so don't be too long. Okay?"
Reagan kept her eyes on the door, waiting for it to close before she looked back at Derek, only to find him already gone and out of sight.
She didn't know how much she'd grow to resent him doing that in the years to come...
Monday came and went in a blur of classes and assignments. Their transition was over and the real work had begun, the five assignments waiting on her a testament to that fact. The locker creaked in the emptied hallway, leaving Reagan alone with her thoughts as she exchanged one book for another.
Something clattered in the back of her locker, a hollow shaking sound that immediately drew her attention. Her hand gripped at a short, curved plastic, pulling it from it's forgotten shallow depths. Reagan stared down at Scott's spare inhaler with a lost look of whimsy in her eyes.
"You have to take care of him when he can't take care of himself. You understand that, don't you?"
Her mother's almost forgotten words twisted her gut.
The initial shock of her brothers new...condition had begun to wane. A choice had been made, and with it, a pact had been formed. No one was to know about the werewolves roaming Beacon Hills, nor the hunters intent on wiping them out.
No one but Stiles and her, that is.
With his asthma now cured, the inhaler served no purpose. Just a token to remind her of easier days when the only time Scott might need her was if he lost his inhaler. That, she could help with. That, was when she knew what to do.
Now? She was completely lost.
She'd take her brother having an asthma attack over hunters trying to kill him any day.
She thought of throwing it in the trash like Scott had done with his previous one, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she pocketed the plastic, shut her locker and headed out to find her brother.
She entered the locker room hallway as it began to empty. Players padded and masked with lacrosse sticks in hands, they paid little attention to her as they talked and laughed amongst themselves.
Weaving through the crowd, she dodged and ducked shoulder and nets as she tried to pass through. Her foil came not from above, but below. Stumbling over a pair of feet, she felt the world turn sideways as she began to fall. Her bag slid from her shoulder and fell to the ground. She, however; did not. Squeezing her eyes shut and preparing for impact, the cold hard surface never came.
Two arms came around her, catching her and pulling her back up before she'd completely made a fool of herself. Her own hands grabbed onto the gloved ones around her waist, holding it like a safety bar at the worst ride in the fair. Reagan felt her head spin at the sudden whiplash worthy motion.
But even with her head buzzing, the familiar scent was unmistakable. The scent of Armani cologne was familiar to her and wrapped in the warm embrace, she almost allowed herself to relax back into it.
Almost being the keyword.
"Nice catch, Māhealani!" Laughed one boy as they continued filling out the field.
"You okay?"
She flinched at how close it sounded, feeling the heat of his breath on her cheek. She wasn't prepared for how much it hurt her. A vivid memory of a hundred surprise hugs, and cheek kisses, and secret whispers came back to her. This surprise embrace did not have the same comforting effect.
Regan gently squeezed his arms, pulling them from around her waist. The smile she gave him was a mere glance, but even from the brief peek, he could see how forced it looked on her. "Ya-Yeah. Thanks." She willed herself to control the heat in her cheeks as she crouched to gather the notebooks and pens that had scattered out of her worn out messenger bag.
"I told you, like, a hundred times you need a new bag." He took a knee across from her. Removing his gloves, he helped her pick up the scattered pens around them. The tone was playful, knowing how much she loved it and hoping it would invite her usual speech in its defense. Instead, he was met with silence.
Reagan didn't debate, not knowing what to say. When she dared to look up at him she found him staring at her. She willed herself to control the heat she could feel growing on her cheeks. This was so not how the ex-reunion was meant to happen. She wasn't in her best outfit, her hair was a mess and of course, she'd nearly made a fool of herself in front of him.
The awkwardness only grew.
They hadn't talked since that night in his room, and just like that night, Reagan suddenly felt very naked under his gaze. Taking the offered bag, she slung it back over her shoulder, pretending not to see the hand he offered her as she stood on her own.
Seeing her shift her weight and look for a polite way to leave, he dared to try a different tactic. "You weren't at the party."
Regan bit her lip, before letting it spring free. "I, we, - I mean the track team - hadn't hung out much over the summer so we kinda had a girls night. Sorry." She didn't even know why she was apologizing.
"Don't be," he said softly. If there was anyone to apologize for anything it was him. "I was hoping to see you, though...so we could talk."
"I, uh, I don't think we really need to." She twists her hips awkwardly, compelling her body to walk away but feeling stuck under his unwavering gaze.
Stupid fucking puppy dog eyes were her god damn undoing… Reagan seethed at her own weakness, giving an internal scream.
"I miss you." He said softly. He hadn't just lost a girlfriend that night, he'd lost one of his best friends. "I miss you. And I don't know how to make it better."
Regan was stunned silent, her mouth dropping open as a thousand different answers struggled to come out at once. Instead, she found herself growing despondent under his sad gaze. Of all the fucking things she had on her plate right now… Figuring out how to get passed her feelings for Danny could wait.
Regan licked her lips, her lips twitching in a sad sympathetic smile. "Me neither."
She didn't wait for the silence to settle between them. Instead, she turned away, pushing Danny to the back of her mind as she called for her brother in the nearly empty locker room.
Stiles called her in, leading her to Scott as he struggled with strapping on his shoulder pads.
"So I'm actually not sure if werewolves use inhalers but I thought it would be better safe than sorry." She held out the plastic only for Scott to continue staring tormented into the distance.
"What did you do?" Regan looked at Stiles accusingly. Stiles balked at the accusation. Defending himself, he informed her that all he knew was that Allison had given him a second chance.
Scott's far-off stare was put down to nerves.
"Are you nervous? Don't be. I mean you screwed up so bad the first time if she gave you another date I don't think there's anything you could do that-"
"Remember the hunters?" He stopped her. "Her dad is one of them…" Scott let his thousand-yard stare lower to meet his sister's wide-eyed one.
Her head tilted, her lips pursed. "Pardon?" Her dark brows rose high on her forehead - stretched to their limit - not unlike her patience. This was easily becoming one of the top five worst weeks of her life, and it had barely begun.
"Her dad...?" Stiles couldn't seem to wrap his head around it either.
"Shot me." Scott nodded.
"...with a crossbow." Reagan's voice gained a hint of calm disbelief.
"Allison's father?!" Stiles looked like he was putting all his effort into figuring out the equation for disaster that was unfolding before them.
"Yes! Her father!" Scott snapped. "Oh, my god." Realization finally set in. Scott began to hyperventilate. Reagan covered her own mouth in shock.
Stiles hit the boy with his mitts to bring him back to focus. "Hey, hey, he didn't recognize you, right?" He tried to see some good in this.
"Does she know about him?" Reagan turned from Stiles to Scott. "Does she know about you?" Reagan demanded. Outside, a whistle blew to signal the start of practice.
Scott began to blubber dryly. His face twisted up followed by the repeated whine, "He's gonna kill me!", through his short breaths.
Not knowing what else to do, she forced the inhaler into his open mouth, forcing him to take a deep breath as she pressed it. Out of habit, Scott calmed down enough for Stiles to push his pads and uniform shirt on him.
"Okay, just focus on lacrosse, okay? We'll deal with your date later."
"What? Are you insane?! He can't see her again!" Her indignation went ignored as Stiles dragged her out of the locker room so Scott could get dressed. "Stiles!" Reagan slapped at the hands that dare grab at her. Stiles fleeing towards the field. "We are so not finished with this!" She yelled after him, her own brother running passed her not a moment after the words left her mouth.
The elder McCall was ignored. An appalled look marred her pretty face. "Idiots." She scoffed to the empty hallway. "They're both idiots."
Fishing out a ponytail from the dark depths of her now disorganized bag, Reagan made herself comfortable on the bleachers as she waited for Scott. A few minutes later and she had succumbed to her own extracurriculars, finding solace in the headphones and homework she focused on. For a while, she gave no thought to the world outside her geometry problems. But as time passed, a nagging feeling began to grow.
Her blue eyes raised for the first time in the past half an hour, looking around for the source of what she could only describe as laser-like stare. She looked around the field, the bleachers, and even the parking lot behind her but found nothing. Frustrated as the feeling only seemed to grow, she pulled the headphones from her ears in an attempt to better focus. Once again she gave a slow and more thorough look through the teens that lingered around the lacrosse field.
She stopped at a group of fellow student loitering around the edge of the field behind her. Girlfriends of other players, friends talking amongst themselves, and a guy taking pictures of the brutality she was missing for what she assumed was the school newspaper. Her brows still felt like she was missing something right in front of her.
Seeming to feel her own searching gaze on him, the photographer turned. His camera lowered, its operator daring to give her an awkward, bashful smile she didn't have a chance to return.
"McCall!" Came the irate voice of the coach. On habit alone, she turned at the name, watching as the coach seemed to berate her brother as he bent low. An agreement seemed to be reached and they both stood up. "McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!" Coach Finstock cheered mockingly.
Reagan stopped her writing, biting the cap of the pen precariously as she watched her brother line up yet again to charge at Jackson. "Oh no." She mumbled to herself. Her blue eyes squinted in the evening sun, watching with sympathy as he was set up to be dealt a blow, yet again.
This time; however, he was ready. Scott charged without the slightest hesitation and when they met this time, Scott turned at the last second and slammed his shoulder's into Jackson. The force was so hard the older boy was lifted up and tossed to the ground. An audible crunch could be heard between them as they collided.
Reagan was on her feet in a blink, the cap falling from her mouth as she watched the scene unfold before her. Stiles ran from the bench, talking to her brother as he knelt on the ground, perhaps hurt, but nowhere near the level as Jackson Whittemore.
Finstock and the other players huddled around the boy who laid flat on his back. Reagan covered her mouth in shock. She had little time to adjust to the idea her brother was even capable of such a feat.
"Rea" Stiles called out, pulling her brother away from the growing crowd on the grass.
From the other side of the field, Derek Hale's scrutinizing eyes watched as Reagan abandoned her things where they were to make a mad dash after them.
Inside the locker room, Stiles dropped Scott onto the floor when he could no longer support him. Scott gave a groan, feeling his teeth sharpen and his senses heighten. Overwhelmed by the sensation, he curled in on himself.
"What happened?!" Reagan chased after her brother. She slid to a stop and fell to her knees before his own huddled form. Seeing his distressed state as no different to his asthma attacks, Reagan began yanking at the buckles and straps, pulling his face mask off to throwing it to the side.
Any lingering doubt she had about her brother's inhuman condition was cast from her mind when the siblings' eyes met. Her entire body gave a lurch backward at the sight of pure yellow gold eyes he glowered at her.
"Get away from me!" He growled through his straggling breath. Four sharp teeth stood out amongst the rest,. The muscle around his mouth twitched, eager to sink them into something.
Reagan fell back onto her palms, crawling back as he gave a small lunge. Stiles grabbed her, helping her up as they clumsily ran through the rows of lockers and circled back to the only route of escape. While her brother would normally never hurt a fly, the same couldn't be said for the volatile creature that had taken his place.
Cornered, they had no choice but to split apart. Stiles raced in one direction as Reagan raced another, Scott on her heels. Round and round they went, turning and circling in a potentially lethal game of tag nowhere near as fun as she remembered before Stiles seemed to appear from nowhere. Fire extinguisher in hand, he ordered her to drop.
Reagan complied without a thought. Falling onto her ass and sliding on the hard surface, she narrowly missed the spray as Stiles fired on the werewolf behind her.
"You good?" Stiles asked her as she stood. The two teens backed up just a few step further.
"Been better," Reagan admitted, her heart tattooing her ribs as the adrenaline began to wane. Neither of them took their eyes off the now calmer crouched figure.
A thin coating of the powdered remnants seemed to color Scott's dark hair as gray as Reagan felt her own must be. He looked up at them, his face covered in a thick sheen of sweat and his confused brown eyes squinting at them in confusion.
"Wh-What happened?" He regained his normal breathing.
"What happened?!" Stiles scoffed. "You tried to kill us." Scott looked visibly shocked. Guilt already settling on his pensive features, Stiles tried a gentler approach than his normal sarcasm. "It's like I told you before, it's the anger. It's your pulse rising…"
"It's a trigger." Reagan cut it. Just like his asthma. And like his asthma, he needed to have limits and avoid them.
Seeing their thinking, Scott was quick to argue. "But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed!"
"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game." Stiles pursed his lips, not pleased himself at the turn of events but knowing it was for all their best interests.
"But I'm first line…"
"Not anymore."
Melissa McCall stopped between her children's opened rooms, each one in a world of their own. Scott laid sprawled over his messily made bed, groaning to himself at how much his life sucked at the moment. Reagan sat curled in her bay window with Max at her feet, typing away on her computer.
Catching the movement of her mother's waving hand, Reagan pulled the headphones from her ears and closed her laptop. "Hey, you two. Late shift again for me." Melissa clipped the hospital ID to the windbreaker she wore over her navy scrubs. She turned to her son's room, a proud smile on her face. "But, I am taking Saturday off to see your first game."
Scott lifted his head. "No, Mom, you can't!"
If the horrible feeling of losing first line wasn't enough to make him feel ill, the idea of his mom changing shifts just to see a game he wouldn't be playing certainly was.
"Why not? I can and I will." She walked into the room, her daughter behind her. "Come on, one shift isn't going to break us. Not completely." She looked around the spacious room.
The spacious home was bought in happier times, when they were still a steady two-income household and before surprise medical bills had wiped out much of their savings. Still, she couldn't bear to part with the house she'd raised her children in. Not now, not ever. Even if that meant missing a bit more time with them to keep it.
She turned back to her children, putting on a bright smile to show the morbid joke was only that.
When neither of her children returned it, she grew curious. Scott hadn't even said anything about his sister sitting on him. "Hey, what's wrong with your eyes?" She leaned closer, seeing the dark circles around them.
The siblings perked up in alert. Scott almost toppled his sister as he rose his upper half from the bed with little effort. "You look like you haven't slept in days." Melissa probed.
"It's nothing. I'm just stressed."
"Just stress?" Their mother didn't sound convinced. "Nothing else?" She looked from one child to the other.
"Homework." They mimicked.
If anything, it only made her more suspicious.
"I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything." Melissa gave an uneasy laugh the longer they stared at her. "Right?"
Subtle.
Reagan and Scott looked to each other then their mother. Her insecurities about missing pieces of their lives had starting to show through. "Right now?" Scott's brows jumped.
"Right now?! I'm sorry, what do you mean, 'Right now'? Have you ever taken drugs?" Her humor gone, maternal panic and fear set in.
"Have you?" Scott asked. The natural smartass he'd inherited was concealed by his genuine, innocent question.
"Maybe back when you got all those Grateful Dead concert shirts hiding in your closet?" Reagan brows rose up in a challenge. "Honesty's the best policy, mom."
Melissa stared at her children, cringing an uneasy smile before frowning. "I liked it better when you were against each other." She lied. Only partially. "Get some sleep. Both of you!"
Reagan waited until her mother was heard walking down the stairs. Getting off her brother's legs she let him sit up properly before she slapped him across the back of his head.
"What the hell?" He hissed, rubbing the tender spot.
Reagan braced her hands on her knees, bending at the waist to stare him down. "That's for trying to kill me. This is for raising mom's suspicions." Before he could question her, she flicked his forehead.
Straightening to her full height, she crossed her arms. "You're the one who didn't want to tell her. Now you're the one that has to learn to keep a secret better than that."
"Wait, are you keeping secrets?" Scott looked at her with wide eyes. It was like Jackson accusing him of using steroids all over again.
Reagan's brows furrowed, her lips turning down in a disappointed frown. "The fact you need to ask should tell you how good I am at it. If I was, that is." She threw in. Done with the conversation, she retreated across the hall to her room.
"Wait, does that mean you are or you aren't?" Scott called after her. The sound of the closing bathroom door was his only response.
One of the new pop songs of the month played over her bathroom speaker, hushing the running shower and completely drowning out the commotion across the hall as her brother's life was threatened by one Derek Hale. Had she'd have known what it would lead to Friday night, she would have hit them both. This time with a bat.
"I can't believe we're really doing this. This is such a Stiles thing to do..." Reagan's eyes scanned the perimeter of the Hale house. The eerie feeling the property gave her only grew the longer they lingered about. The blonde wrapped her green coat tighter around herself.
Something had changed in the relatively quiet town that day. Having made no further progress in the investigation, the sheriff's office had put a nine o'clock curfew on the under-aged residents of the town. A new wave of unease and rumors spreading beyond the gossipy nature of the high school as police appeared to find no more evidence of the dead girl's supposed 'predator' killing other than sheer wishful thinking alone. A predator had killed the torso-less girl without debate. It was whether that predator walked on four legs, or two, that was now the question.
And suspect number one, was none other than Derek Hale.
The scent of blood and rotting flesh too faint for the humans to smell had plagued Scott in his new heightened state. Derek Hale had threatened his life not once, but twice, warning him of the consequences that would befall them all should Scott draw the hunter's attention. That alone had filled him with such fear he was near willing to comply. But when Allison Argent became involved in what Scott perceived as a threat to her as well, fury took fear's place.
It was there on the Hale property, issuing a warning of his own, that Scott spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and the scent of blood in the air. Any superficial excuse for what looked to be the fresh grave was voided after a risky mission to the hospital morgue only confirmed that the putrid smell of death was the same as the unidentified Jane Doe.
Now here she was, spending her Friday night watching her brother and his best friend dig up a body.. It was a last ditch attempt to prove Derek Hale as the murderer and be done with this mess once and for all.
For Scott, the short-sighted plan seemed simple. Catch the killer. Win the game. Keep the girl. Get to live a semi-normal life.
Digging up a grave in the middle of the night on a suspected murderer's property hidden in the woods was just how to get the ball rolling, apparently.
How the hell did she end up here, again?
"You're supposed to be the lookout." Stiles chided, already beginning to huff as they dug into the loose soil. "So can you, I don't know, look! Out there!" He waved his hand in the direction of the vast woods that concealed the road. Derek had left only minutes before and they had no idea when he was to be expected back.
Reagan she turned her annoyed gaze towards the road. Attentive and on edge, her eyes roamed around the forest's edge looking for any sign of life or beaming headlights. Atleast for the first twenty minutes...
A gust of wind ran through the preserve, blowing the hair that had escaped her ponytail into her face. Reagan brushed the misbehaving strands aside, turning back in hopes the wind would assist her. As she cleared her face, she forgot about look-out duty when her gaze landed on the shell of a house that loomed above them.
A mostly forgotten staple of the Beacon Hills community, the three-story home had been taken over by the county long ago. Burnt, abandoned, and supposedly haunted, without even the county willing to come out to maintain it, nature had taken its course. The ancient forest around them slowly began to reclaim the house. It only served to heighten the spook factor most haunted houses thrive on.
At Beacon Hills high, there was a Halloween tradition for only the bravest of freshmen. Walk to the front door and knock four times. Though she'd been invited to the home once or twice before, she'd never seen any reason to partake in the silly tradition.
So why she suddenly found herself walking to the home was beyond her. "Curiosity killed the cat" and all that, she guessed...
Reagan spared one last glance at the still pitch black road before entering up the stone steps.
Unlocked, the door swung open with the smallest of groans. The damaged porch boards cracked and creaked under her weight. After spending so many years left to rot in silence, the house seemed to take every opportunity to protest its awakening. Eying what was left of what might have once been considered a grand staircase, she made her way into the large open area to her right. Perhaps a family room, she could only guess. Whatever furniture it once housed, like the occupants, was long ago burned and left forgotten. The remnants of it split apart and nailed up to block the windows throughout. Dark and dusty, Reagan couldn't help but think of one thing when she stepped inside it.
Fear.
Her hand traced against the burn wallpaper. Cracked and crumbling, it fell as ash beneath her light touch. The charred wood below it was coarse under her fingertips. Black soot rubbing off and staining her skin as it passed. The chill of the fall air was gone, a sudden warmth seeming to replace it. Reagan had trouble catching her breath. A feeling an uncomfortable panic stirring deep inside as she back peddled out of the room.
Dust, she thought. She spared a small cough before opening the door. The seed of fear grew to panic when the door slightly caught, the wood warped from years of disrepair. Reagan tried it twice more, ready to scream for help when it decided to open after a particularly harsh yank. She did not dawdle in the home.
Reagan took deep breaths of the fresh air, trying desperately to clear the dust and ash that seemed to work itself into her lungs. She wiped at her eye, not expecting to feel the tear that came from the irritation.
Reagan turned to curse the home but found herself unable to speak. Inside her, something gripped at her chest, a suffocating feeling of desperation and fear and sadness. She was being stupid and superstitious, she decided. The fact tonight happened to be the 13th and fell on a Friday fraying her nerves more than it normally would.
"Dude, we found a wolf!" Stiles called out, the first to spot her coming towards them.
Hearing the boys talking she approached with the pure intention of telling them it was time to leave. The house stood tall over her as she entered its shadow in the moonlight, a sharp chill running through her spine. "What the hell is that?" Reagan regarded both the boy and the filthy rope in his hand with clearly disgusted frustration. She didn't put much into the purple flowers that spotted throughout it, each one pulled from the earth as Stiles uprooted it from its own shallow grave. Nor did she look into the grave.
"Wolfsbane." No further elaboration was given.
Frustrated by their lack of progress, Reagan gave a seething groan walking off. Her path was stunted, her body freezing at the edge of the grave. Had the boys been paying attention, they would have seen the way her spine straightened, her hand covering her mouth. "Guys…"
Stiles and Scott both turned their attention to her. "What?"
"I thought you said it was a wolf?" Her voiced cracked. Reagan looked back at the two boys, a layer of disbelieving shock marking her previously passive face.
Confused and alarmed, the boys rushed to her side. Like Reagan, they felt their entire body sway back in shock. "Holy shi-"
"It's... human." The wolf's head they had first uncovered was gone. Something new, and even more terrifying having taken its place.
There laid the upper half of Jane Doe. Her mouth frozen open in a scream, a glazed look of terror cemented into her eyes. Eyes that seemed oddly focused for being dead. Reagan's knees slowly gave out. Her body crouched down beside the grave, entranced by eyes that stared at her. Eyes that would haunt her for months to come.
Derek Hale would be arrested the following morning.
Melissa regarded her daughter with amused suspicion. "What's with you tonight?"
"Huh?" Reagan didn't bother looking at her mother, her eyes continuing to scan the crowd for someone.
"Okay, what's got you so- oh, is it a boy?!" Melissa's face lit up with the prospect. She craned her neck over the crowd of the concession-stand lines around them and began searching for a familiar face like she was sure her daughter was. "It wouldn't happen to be your handsome gentleman caller, would it?" Melissa wiggled her eyebrows, giving her daughter's hip a playful bump with her own.
Regan's wide-eyed shock was mistaken for embarrassment and Melissa laughed. "He was cute." She prodded. She turned away, receiving her change.
"He's a murderer," Regan mumbled. She took the popcorn they'd been waiting on, tossing a kernel into her mouth.
"What?"
"He's over there," Regan enunciated loudly, pointing in the direction of a familiar face. Sheriff Stilinski nodded to the two women, walking with them but declining the offer of the buttery treat. The three took their seats together in the second row. Reagan sipped on the soda her mother handed her, pretending to look nowhere in particular as she spied a familiar strawberry blond head of hair in the row beside them. Sure enough, beside Lydia was Allison. And beside Allison sat the older Argent.
The man actively trying to kill her brother...
"Reagan?" Her mother knocked their knees together, clearly having been talking to her. Another noncommittal hmm was all she got. The players took the field directly after, changing their one sided conversation. "Are you excited?" Melissa turned to her daughter, her smile full and illuminating.
"Not as much as you." Reagan laughed, a chuckle filled with hidden dread as she herself was consumed by nervous jitters. Her mother slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close as they watched the game gear up to go. Reagan took small comfort in the act, her wondering eyes turning to Chris Argent once more.
When she turned back, she and Stiles shared an equally fearful gaze, hesitant sighs leaving their lips as the whistle blew.
The game began, but Scott's chances seemed to have already ended. The werewolf was systematically blocked at every turn. One by one, his own team members seemed to turn on him, every attempt to catch or collect the ball thwarted. But to his credit, Scott remained relatively calm, if not disheartened.
It wasn't until the middle of the third quarter that his patience reached its end. Scott dove for the open ball, intent to prove his worth, only to be checked from the side by Jackson. The hit landed soundly, revenge for the busted shoulder the days prior, and Scott was knocked completely off his feet as Jackson scooped up the ball.
Melissa gave a small gasp in shock as Reagan bit at her fingertips. It was the violence they had been waiting for. Jackson scored the stolen ball, the crowd growing wild as the two teams nearly tied. Melissa sighed, unhappy with the brutality but a fair sport all the same. She stood with the majority of the crowd, giving enthusiastic claps.
"You sure he's okay to be playing first?" Sheriff Stilinski asked her. He eyed the boy cautiously, surprised he'd yet to take a hit off his inhaler. Reagan could only give him a worried glance before shifting her eyes to the hunter behind him.
"Probably not." Was all she gave.
But it wasn't the hit that had his blood boil and his eyes turn yellow. It was the chanting. Not far from them Lydia held up a sign, cheering after her boyfriend as any proud girlfriend would. And right beside her, Allison did the same.
The "We Luv U Jackson" sign proved to be the final straw.
Reagan gave a nervous twitch and divided her attention between her brother and Stiles. Given her brother's short temper when it came to 'protecting' Allison, this couldn't possibly end well.
As the final quarter began, something changed in Scott. It was a primal change, an energy that from a distance caused confusion but up close created an air of fear. His head stayed down, his back arched as his breathing evened to heavy and warm. A cloud of white steam appeared in the chilly autumn air around him.
Reagan couldn't help but think he looked like a dog with its hackles raised. And even though they couldn't see his face, the players that surrounded him took a step back.
"Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm," Reagan repeated to herself, for both their sakes. Her knee bounced uncontrollably, her own body hunched and leaning as close to the field as possible.
She turned to study Chris Argent only to find him already looking at her. Behind him, his daughter and Lydia cheered once more, Allison less enthusiastic upon realizing something was wrong with Scott.
Her face was a mask, but her eyes gave her away.
"Reagan, are you okay?" Stilinski asked.
The girl gave a noncommittal grunt, her neck twisting painfully as it turned back at the sound of the whistle.
Scott didn't wait this time, charging for the ball, scooping it up and lept over the bent player without a moment of hesitation. The crowd watched in shock as he dodged every player and stick that came his way. The ball was shot, the successful goal tied the game.
The crowd went wild, and even Reagan and Stiles found themselves joining in bewildered glee.
"Yesss!" Melissa screamed. "That's my boy!" She jumped, clapping her hands so loud it seemed painful. Watched her mother jump up and down like an excited child, made Reagan forget all the negative outcomes of the goal. Regan allowed herself a beaming smile, falling into the game as her brother scored shot after shot in the last ten minutes of the game. As the last quarter came to a close, he sent a ball through the air so powerful it cut through the net. It was the oddity needed to sober his sister.
Reagan peaked at Argent one last time, seeing his confusion lowered by his daughters excited cheers. She turned her attention back to Stiles, who - feeling her stare - turned back with a smile of his own.
Perhaps she was just being paranoid.
Reagan bit at her nails, watching her brother being stared down by two opposing players, half a field away from the goal. Scott froze, feeling the power surge through him but hesitant to release it. He stared down his opponents, running out the clock. With mere seconds to spare, Scott hurled the ball across the field. The crowd held their breath. Without a sound, the net shook, the ball landing soundly. The buzzer that followed was nearly deafened by the sudden cheer of the crowd.
They had won.
The crowd around them emptied onto the field. Friends and family rushing to celebrate with the players and the strong omen for yet another championship season.
"Where's your brother?" Melissa stood atop her seat looking for her son in the crowd only to find him gone.
Reagan felt a swell of panic rise when she couldn't spot him anywhere. "I'm sure he's just headed to the locker room. Doesn't want to smell for his new girlfriend and all." Reagan gave her mother a forced, but believable, smile. "I'll grab him."
Melissa nodded, too thrilled by the night to question it. "Okay." She kissed her daughter's head, "I'll warm up the car. Hurry up because I wanna take you guys out for dinner."
"Koi Palace?" Reagan's voice raised in eager surprise. There was never a time too late for Koi Palace. Melissa nodded, knowing the late night Chinese restaurant was rather pricey but one of their favorites. A small splurge wouldn't ruin them, and she was so ecstatic to be able to see this moment, and feeling like part of her children's lives once again, she didn't particularly care.
Regan walked her mother off the bleachers, waving at her as she left.
"Could have gone worse..." Stiles sidled up next to her.
"Could have gone better," she rebutted.
"They found what?"
Reagan and Stiles turned, listening in on the Sheriff's phone conversation.
"Dad, what's wrong?"
The Sheriff held out a finger, signaling them to be quiet as he strained to hear and understand just what the lab was telling him. "-DNA match on Jane Doe?" The Sheriff plugged his other ear, mouth dropping open as he heard what could only be a mistake. "I'm sorry did you just say, 'Laura Hale'? As in Derek Hale?"
Mirror images of shock marked the two teenagers features upon overhearing this particular information. Bits and ends of the conversation were heard but putting it together was clear.
A familial DNA match to Derek had brought up the identification of Laura Hale, a victim of an animal attack, who had only been taken home to be buried, if improperly so.
Stiles swallowed thickly, realizing just how badly they'd fucked up. "Think he'd let it go as an honest mistake?" He cringed a smile, desperate to believe the idea. "No hard feelings?"
Reagan ran a hand down the side of her face. "We dug up his sister then had him arrested. On our list of questionable activities, that's gotta be the shittiest."
Silence fell between them as they pretended not to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation. When his father hung up, Stiles turned away, pretending to talk closely with Reagan as he waited for his father to gain some distance. "Rock, paper, scissors for who tells Scott?" He put his fist out, ready to play.
Reagan slapped it down. Her paper covering his rock. "Who's idea was it to dig up the body?" She reminded snidely. That too, quickly changed hearing something even worse than that.
"Now that he's been released..."
Stiles was gone before Reagan even had the chance to fully turn around, already clumsily knocking into strangers in the crow as he sprinted to the locker room. With a tired sigh, Reagan motioned to the confused Sheriff that she, too, would be right back, leaving to find the growing source of her problems.
For once, Scott was growing up to be the pain in the ass little brother he should have been long ago...
※ Two Door Cinema Club - Are We Ready? ※
Please Review! I' having fun sprinkling in some season 2 foreshadowing. Most of the chapters will have new/different content sprinkled in and about but a lot of the chapters I love will be the same with some touch up is all, others greatly renovated. Like how this chapter is actually three times as long now.