※ Chapter Rewritten 2/27/21 ※
Season One
"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 4:
Pack Mentality
Despite the strange change of direction their lives had taken that summer, it was nice to take comfort in the fact some things could be relied on. Reagan found herself at peace in the overcrowded cafeteria that Thursday afternoon. The familiar orchestra of students chatting loudly overlapped with the desperate scribbles of homework previously procrastinated on. It was complemented by the steady thrums of textbook pages furiously flipped in last-minute cramming and held together by the steady rhythm of crunching chips and chewing food. It was at times unbearably noisy, but today it was no match for Reagan's utter exhaustion.
With her face flat against the cool cover of the textbook she should probably be reading, Reagan used the sounds around her as white noise. At least until a familiar voice woke her from her light napping...
"Something happened last night and I can't remember what." The sound of her brother's voice ripped her from her relaxation like a shrieking alarm breaking through a good dream. It seemed she was forced to rejoin the nightmare once again.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the clacking of plastic trays hitting the tabletop assaulted her ears. Reagan cringed from behind her curtain of hair. She already knew where this was going. She tried to squash the conversation before it could begin, desperately trying to hold onto the sleep she felt slipping away.
"Shhh." Her request was muffled under her hair.
"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?"
"Because during the full moon he wasn't changed."
"Shhh." Reagan tried again. Her brows pinched together, neither pleased by the conversation in such a public place nor by the fact she could feel her nap slip through her fingers. Still, she went ignored.
"He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy-"
"You don't know that."
"I don't not know it."
Reagan's eyes snapped open with a clear annoyance. Brushing her hair from her face, she straightened as her flattened hand slapped against the plastic tabletop. The boys jumped and silenced. "Shhhhhhhhhh." She pointedly hissed. "It's a non-verbal request for silence; a much politer version of SHUT. UP." Reagan nearly snarled. She was running on caffeine fumes as it was. The fact that not even an hour ago they had learned of Scott's oddly detailed dream connection to the bus attack outside had turned her headache into a full-blown migraine.
Stiles grabbed a fry off her untouched tray, stuffing it into his mouth. "What's with you?"
"Four hours at work and six of homework left me with, like, two to sleep." She pressed her fingers against her eyes, attempting to rub them without smearing her makeup. Those two hours themselves were restless and consumed by visions of Laura Hale's face. "Though mostly I just kinda laid there in bed thinking of what horrible people we are." She was referring to the fact they had all but dug up Laura Hale with smiles and glee. And Stiles knew it.
"We were looking for evidence." Stiles tried to placate, his tickle of guilt making him shift in his seat. Honestly, who could have seen that plot twist coming?
"We desecrated a grave!" She reprimanded through clenched teeth, louder than she should have. It was Stiles who shushed them this time. They paused looking at the ever-moving crowd around them, no one sparing them a second glance. Sometimes being invisible had its perks. "If someone dug up half your corpse I'd be pretty pissed, too."
"Well, you're gonna have even more nightmares when we find out I mauled some guy!" Scott wheezed. The anxiety he felt weighed crushingly on his chest. His vivid dream that night had been the stuff of nightmares alone. When he walked into the school to find it matched with the bloody crime scene proved something else entirely more terrifying. He whined low in his throat at the thought.
Stilinski rolled his eyes at the two siblings, their hidden high strung nature shining through at a rather inopportune time.
"You didn't do it!" Reagan snapped. There was no filter or volume control this time around, her words causing the conversations around them to pause at the sudden outburst. A foot connected her shin under the table, but Reagan stared down her brother. "You didn't, Scott." She spoke quietly but firmly. "It's not who you are, and that kind of thing doesn't just change overnight…" 'Werewolf bite or not', was silently added.
Scott stared at his sister. He was eager to believe her but too deep in his self-doubt and pity to let himself. He gave a pathetic groan. At this point they had pretty much all agreed to stay far away from Derek Hale lest they continue to piss him off. But with Derek no longer considered their go-to suspect and Scott ruled out on principle alone, the fact someone else (if not something else) had done the attack still hung over their heads. The idea only added further dread to the trio. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."
"No! You're not canceling, okay? Tell him!" Stiles waved his hand for Reagan to follow through. Instead, they were met with silence. Stiles' brown eyes kept glancing back at her unmoving face. "Uh, Rea?" He cleared his throat. Any moment now would be great...
But the older girl wasn't quite as sure as her friend.
Allison Argent was dangerous by association. The closer Scott got to her the closer he circled the hunters looking for him. It should have been easy for her to shut it down then and there, knowing guiltily in times like this her brother would follow her advice without fail, especially since it was the answer he seemed to be hoping for. And yet, as Reagan looked at his wide eyes and eager face, she knew it wasn't the right thing to do. She'd seen the end of their kiss in the locker room that Friday. The way his face had lit up and his eyes had followed Allison from the room. She recognized that feeling in him. The first kiss of first love. It hadn't been so long ago she'd felt the same...
Reagan closed her eyes as they rolled, a sigh escaping her as she made her decision. "You need to go out with Allison."
Scott's shocked cry of "What?!" was matched by Stiles's victorious "HA!".
"You can't just cancel your entire life, Scott." He deserved to have a normal life, and it was up to Stiles and Reagan to help see that happen. "We'll figure it out."
"How can you say that?!" He stared at her in betrayal. But Reagan wouldn't support his self-pity as easily as he thought. The time for passive self-pitying was over. The attack on the bus driver proved that this life they'd entered wouldn't just stop if they ignored it. No. Now was the time to take control of it.
"What's mom always saying? Sometimes you have to suffer through a bad spot till you get to the good?"
"I don't think she was talking about me being a freakin' werewolf!" He leaned in to whisper.
"Probably not." She sarcastically conceded. "But we still got through all that stuff anyway, didn't we?" The hospital, the divorce, the custody battles. Still, here they sat. Together. "Stiles is right, quitting on Allison isn't going to help you, it's just going to make you more miserable." She bit into one of her fries only to find them cold. Her face wrinkled in distaste. "And by you, I mean us." She flicked it at his pouting face.
Though secretly ecstatic his sister was pro-date, Scott still felt the need to grumble, "You haven't even met her."
"I have a feeling I'm about to," was the girl's cryptic reply. Reagan wordlessly switched her cold fries for the apple on Stiles' tray.
A beat later Lydia placed her tray down next to Scott.
Stiles nearly choked on his vitamin water. "Why is she sitting with us?" He sputtered. "Lydia's sitting with us!" He whispered to her. Reagan took a loud bite of her apple, her brows rose in acknowledgment. "Why?"
"Pack mentality." She whispered back. She scooted her chair closer, bracing her elbows on the table as she mirrored his position. Their faces mere inches apart they turned their eyes to the other students coming their way, watching them like voyeurs on a safari. "She's here because Allison, the newest and weaker member of the pack will surely try and sit with her potential mating partner."
Stiles felt the need to briefly interrupt her. "You've been bingeing Animal Planet again, haven't you?" He could tell, he just needed her to acknowledge her problem.
"Nat-Geo," she shamelessly corrected. Stiles hummed in understanding. "Now Lydia's pack runs on a hierarchy, Allison may be the newest member but she has longevity and worth. Lydia can't risk losing her to another herd-"
"Like us."
"Like us." She confirmed. "Because it weakens the numbers and leaves them vulnerable to outsiders. Ergo, to protect her investment: where Allison goes, Lydia goes, and where Lydia goes…"
She didn't need to finish.
Reagan sat back to watch as one by one the other members of the tribe took over the table around them. In quick succession, the chairs around them were pulled out. There was no bitterness for the clique she had once been a part of, but rather dread in her tone. And for good reason. As Danny took a seat on the other side of Stiles, Reagan lowered in her chair in an attempt to make herself invisible once more. She focused on the apple in her hand intently and missed the exchange between Stiles and Danny. The ex-lover tried his hardest to make eye contact only to be blocked by Stiles's ever-moving form. Stiles smiled nervously under Danny's unimpressed frown.
"Get up." Jackson, the brawn to Lydia's brains and high ruler of them all, demanded of the asshat that went by the name Harrison Grundy. Since all the years she had known him, she couldn't recall a time Jackson wasn't the head of a lunch table.
"How come you never ask Danny to get up?" Harrison grumbled but obeyed all the same.
The friend in question rolled his eyes. Danny's plump lips thinned in a condescending smirk "Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot."
"Shoulda been the first clue," Harrison muttered in retaliation. He purposely leered at the redhead as he changed seats with what he must have thought was a charming grin.
Every teen at the table spared a withering gaze towards the brown-haired boy. A harmless joke at first glance, it was particularly tasteless considering the current company. Jackson tightened his hold on his cutlery as Lydia's lip lifted in a near snarl.
Harrison Grundy wasn't what Reagan would consider a friend to anyone at the table. Equally as rich as any Whittemore, Martin, or Māhealani at the table, he had simply fallen into their hemisphere as children. Now a midfielder on the lacrosse team, he was a body of convenience rather than a friend of common interest.
Reagan had no qualms about humbling the overconfident asshole. As Harrison lowered himself, Reagan lashed out. Her lowered body was just long enough to reach the leg of his chair. With a small jolt, it was kicked from under him.
He dropped like a sack.
Scott and Allison looked over, startled, in the only signs of empathy at the otherwise unperturbed table.
Lifting himself, he seemed none the wiser to the retaliation. "My ass!" Harrison rubbed his bruised tailbone.
Danny snorted through his bite of apple. "What ass?" He snidely looked the lanky boy over.
And just like that, the previous peeved tension dissipated among the teens. The lower-ranking boy was swiftly punished and put in his place, the pack order sorting itself out around them.
Reagan gave a little snort of laughter at his offended gasp. She didn't flinch when she met Danny's gaze out of the corner of her eye. Their smiles coy and self-pleased; high off their triumph of shared revenge. For a small moment, Reagan was taken aback by how nostalgic it all felt. A blush began to warm her face, just as it once had, the longer she was under his appraisal.
Their face-off was broken when Stiles held up a handful of fries between them. A silent offering to the boy as he chewed through his own overstuffed mouth full. Unimpressed, Danny could only give a disgusted grimace, quickly turning his attention far elsewhere.
Stiles only shrugged at Danny's obvious cold shoulder. Reagan sent a secret smile his way in thanks. She didn't know if his blatant foolishness was from his need to protect or his nervousness being so close to the red-headed love of his life. A mixture, she suspected. She appreciated it all the same.
"You're Reagan, right?"
Her attention turned to the new girl sitting all smiles and heart eyes next to her brother. "Yeah. Scott's older sister. We're in the same Geometry class."
"Lydia and Danny have told me a lot about you." She grinned. Reagan's face heated up once more at the news and this time Danny joined her. The rest of the table shifted uncomfortably. Sans Harrison; who loudly laughed. Allison's smile faltered just a bit, clearly having not been told everything. She guiltily looked to Danny, hoping she hadn't just revealed a secret crush or something.
"Oh..." Was the blonde's only reply. It was a loaded response on tone alone. "They have?" Neither of the two teens in question met her gaze. Reagan felt a bit of anger swell at that, feeling as if no good could come from those two points of view. Allison nodded and smiled politely. She didn't press the issue in fear it would make her more uncomfortable than it already had.
"So I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack...probably a cougar?" Danny was quick to steer the topic of conversation away.
"I heard mountain lion."
"A cougar is a mountain lion." Lydia corrected her boyfriend. At Jackson's dubious raised brow, she stiffened.
Reagan gave an audible crunch of her apple and settled in to watch the couple with rapt attention. She wondered just how long it would take Lydia to realize her mistake… His suspicious gaze seemed to burn into her. "Isn't it?" Lydia asked coyly.
It was.
At the top of their classes without fail, Lydia Martin was secretly brilliant. Not gifted-child brilliant like Danny, or even the desperate over-competitive type like Jackson, but authentic IQ certified brilliant.
Not that she'd ever let anyone know it. As Lydia had learned in middle school, brilliant didn't get friends, or boys, or even her divorcing parents' attention… Boys didn't like being outshined. And Lydia liked boys, liked when boys liked her. It made her feel...powerful.
Needless to say, it caused a special disgust in Reagan every time she played the dumb beauty card just to let her boyfriend swoop in and save her with a correct answer. The way he'd melt like putty in her hands when she turned those oh-so-appreciative eyes back to him and his oh-so-smart brain. Jackson was none the wiser.
"Who cares?!" The lacrosse captain shrugged. He didn't take well to be corrected by anyone, let alone the girl that had painted herself as so average.
Reagan stopped mid-bite as Lydia's shifting gaze met hers. A conspiratory look was exchanged between the two girls as Reagan raised a knowing brow. Her shoulders gently shook as she silently laughed. Her blue eyes lazy studied Jackson, wondering if the over-competitive captain knew he ranked number six because his girlfriend ranked number one. She didn't think his ego could take it...
The discussion quickly devolved from there.
The lunch group soon became an all-out debate over the likelihood of another mountain lion attacking the school once more. Any attempt at a nap surely foiled by now, Reagan could only let her mind drift off to more peaceful places. She ignored the teens around her throwing conspiracy theories and "might have been-" left and right. For a few good minutes, her eyes began to grow heavy as she cradled her cheek in her hand. She even managed to drown out the news video Stiles had decided to play beside her.
At least until Scott's knee nudged hers. Her head shot up at the shocking announcement he was personally familiar with the victim in question. Stiles and Reagan shared a secret look of trepidation at the revelation. It was becoming more than just concerning just how much Scott might have been connected to this.
A traitorous part of her brain reminded her that it wasn't long ago that it'd been her running away from his predatory teeth. Had it not been for Stiles's quick thinking, she and the bus driver may have shared the same fate. She didn't have to dwell on the thought long.
"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia was the first to break the suspenseful silence after the disclosure. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night!?" She gleefully turned towards Scott and Allison. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"
"Um,-" Allison cleared her throat from the bite she had nearly choked on. She wasn't expecting to air their plans out in public so suddenly. "We were thinking of what we were gonna do."
"Watch, and learn," Reagan whispered to Stiles with a smirk.
And they did. It was easy to see from the sidelines how the head girl inserted herself into the weaker couple's date, only to drag the alpha male in with her. No one other than Lydia looked quite happy about the "hang out". Her brother was a bit slower on the uptake but Stiles couldn't help but run his hand over his face and try desperately to avert his eyes.
Reagan herself was enjoying watching the implosion, silently welcoming her brother into the battlefield that was high school dating. The strong offense was always a must, but defense against intruders was equally as important. So she sat back and let her brother "live, and let learn" as he so dimly asked Allison what she thought. The new girl wouldn't dare rock the boat with her new friends and so naively responded with the death sentence of, "Sounds like fun."
"Know what else sounds fun?"Jackson grinned manically. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."
"Well, who are we to stop you?" Reagan smiled politely. Stiles kicked her leg under the table. She tended to be snarky when she was tired, and judging by her near untouched food, cranky from hunger too.
"How about bowling? You love to bowl!" Lydia nearly begged.
Scott looked at his sister and best friend with wide eyes to help. Stiles crammed Reagan's fries in his mouth, forgetting they had gone cold. His face twisted into a grimace at the wet cardboard taste that greeted him. It was his punishment for his cowardliness. Reagan was a little braver, unable to refuse the puppy dog eyes he sent her, the ones he seemed to pull out for just her and their mom.
She tried to interject. "Bowling's a little loud don't you-"
"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison challenged Jackson's rebuttal. "You can bowl right?" She asked Scott.
His smile was closer to a cringe. No, he couldn't. "Sort of…. Yes. In fact, I'm a great bowler!" No, he wasn't.
His sister and friend looked at him like he was nuts, the memory of Stiles' 8th birthday party unforgettable. He had busted open his chin falling on the floor as he rolled his ball, his fingers not releasing in time. Stiles scratched his chin in sympathy at the bloody remembrance.
And just like that, it was decided. The time and place dictated by Lydia, the challenge to prove himself was extended. The poor boy had pretty much walked onto a landmine. Now it was just a matter of time before it blew up in his face...
Reagan was the first at the table to flee at the sound of the bell. Outside the cafeteria doors, she pulled her US history textbook from her bag just in time to wack her brother with it. Scott's face opened in pain but he didn't say a word, too distracted by his impending humiliation.
"You're a terrible bowler!" Stiles said what they all knew.
"I know!" Scott's eyes scrunched up as he recoiled in anguish. "I'm such an idiot."
"God, it was like watching a car wreck," Reagan led them down the stairs to their lockers.
"Jesus, I mean, first, it turned into a group date thing, and then out of nowhere comes that phrase."
"'Hang out'?" Scott was equally puzzled but the sudden uncertainty regarding the night. Was it still a date or something else? Was he supposed to treat it like a date? Were there new rules to this not-date?
"You don't hang out with hot girls, okay? It's like death! Once you're hanging out you might as well be her gay best friend. Just look at this one." Stiles's thumb was flung in Reagan's direction, still believing part of their demise was the fact they were far too friendly through their romantic relationship. "Now you and Danny can start hanging out."
"How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn't.-" Reagan let her brother vent as they continued through the school, ignoring the both of them as she flipped through pages of her textbook.
"I don't think Danny likes me very much. Did you say something to him?" His question was ignored by the girl with her head in the book. She was too tired and too busy prepping for her next quiz to be the cheerleader they needed at that moment.
"-I ask Allison out on a date, and now we're hanging out."
"Am I not attractive to gay guys?"
"I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now… now I'm late for work!" He groaned in irritation as he checked his phone. His anxious pace sped up to a full sprint as he headed for his bike. Hopefully, he'd remember to leave on time to get back before his free period ended.
"Wait, Scott, you didn't- am I attractive to gay guys?!" Stiles called throughout the hall. But Scott was already gone. "You didn't answer my question." The boy turned towards Reagan.
She pulled her head from the book she was scanning, stopping briefly to give him an inspecting overview as she opened the door to her class. He probably assumed she'd missed the rude example he'd made of her. She didn't. "No. You're way too needy and you don't dress well enough to catch attention..." She slipped inside, staring at him through the center window. "But you finally have someone's." She tapped on the glass, pointing behind him.
Stiles turned as the door shut, meeting the unwavering stares of the hall full of students and one very bewildered Lydia Martin. His lips pursed in reluctant admiration "Well played, Rea," His face fell as he looked down at his clothes. "Wait, what's wrong with the way I dress?"
Melissa McCall positively beamed when she spotted her children later that night with what she could only pray was a hot meal in their hands.
"Are my beautiful, talented, wonderful children actually bringing me dinner?" Her stomach growled painfully as it was teased with the scent of cheesy enchiladas and black beans. She opened the bag greedily, warming her hands on the still-warm container.
"Reagan cooked it." Scott was quick to give credit.
His sister wrinkled her nose and flashed a tight smile. "Hmm, reheated-" She stressed. "-but it was your idea." Her voice rose an octave in feigned bashfulness as she distanced herself from the plan he had created. Her coy sabotage ended with a wince as Scott kicked her from behind the desk. Werewolf strength's a bitch... She'd only agreed to partake in these shenanigans to prove once more she was almost always right.
"Thought you wouldn't mind skipping the cafeteria tonight."
"You are the most thoughtful, loving-" Their mother's smile pinched into a sneer. "-most conniving little con artist ever." Scott's smile dropped while Reagan's grew. She was trying her hardest not to laugh in his face. Her mother and she had played this game many times in the years before Reagan got her car. If it didn't work then, it wouldn't work now. And Reagan had tried to tell him as much. "You are so not getting the car tomorrow night."
"Mom!" Scott tried to laugh it off. Reagan leaned her elbows on the station desk, watching the useless debate. She tapped her fingers against her chin as she silently grinned. The air of 'I told you so' wafting off her as strong as the dinner they'd brought.
"What? There's a curfew, no car. But I will take this" She plucked the brownie dessert container from his frozen hands, smiling at the extra corner he had put in for her. Her eyes widened as she remembered. "And you-" she pointed to her smug daughter. "-aren't off the hook either. I don't want you working tomorrow."
It was Reagan's jaw that dropped while Scott reflected her previously smug smile back at her. They would suffer together apparently...
"Curfew is for a reason. Working alone in a gas station by the woods in the middle of the night is not gonna happen. I'm not letting your body end up on an episode of Dateline or 48 hours!" Melissa scoffed at her daughter's expression of disbelief. "Love you." She blew them a kiss as she took the food back to the lounge.
"Love you too." The two droned together. Their equal levels of dismay were clear. Well, that was certainly a twist she hadn't been prepared for. Reagan looked to her brother, "Well at least you don't have to humiliate yourself tomorrow night. Small blessings and all that jazz…" At eighteen years old, Reagan herself had no intention of following through with the request, sure her mother's paranoid-driven anger would fade when she came to her senses after eating.
Reagan turned to her brother, realizing he made no move to follow her out, his eyes focused on something further down the fall. "Earth to Scott? You coming?"
"Uh, just, just wait for me a second?" Scott didn't elaborate as he headed down the hall, ignoring his sister's confused wonderings on where he was going.
"Scott?!" She called after him as he turned the corner. She sighed in exasperation and leaned back against the empty nurses' desk. Since Scott had driven them, she couldn't very well leave without him.
In her time waiting, her attention wandered to the woman sitting alone in the floor's waiting area. The teen tried to keep her gaze averted; it was rude to stare, but the little whimpers and hollow moaning behind the redhead woman's handkerchief kept drawing her gaze back. Her heart broke for her but couldn't find it in herself to provide any words of comfort. Her cheerleading and can-do spirit were already used up for the day.
Without meaning to, Reagan felt herself slip into another one of her mindless dazes, time feeling as if it slowed around her completely before resuming when her brother crashed into her. Scott panted, out of breath for some reason as he steadied her on her feet and began dragging her out.
It was only when they had to wait for the elevator that he stopped staring at the hall he'd fled from and looked at her. His breath had calmed to open mouth huffs, his frightened expression easing into worry. Not for himself, but rather for her. "Reagan?" He stopped her mid-rambling, not even paying attention to her indignant scoldings.
"What?!" She snapped.
Her brother's expression pinched in concern. Seemingly hesitant to say what he clearly wanted to, his open mouth settled first on a deep frown. "You're crying."
Reagan gave her brother an incredulous look. "No, I'm not."
Scott's brown eyes roamed over her face before softening in sympathy. "Rea?"
She blinked. Like a shock, the uncomfortable moisture on her lashes finally registered. She swiftly swiped under her eye only to feel the warm liquid run down her cheek. Just as startled as Scott, her blue eyes never wavered from the moisture on her fingertips.
"Hey, are you okay?" Whatever he was running from before fell to the back of his mind as he focused on his sister. His hand gripped her arm comfortingly, trying to get her to look at him.
A heart-wrenching sob sounded from behind them. Reagan didn't need to search for the source, her eyes falling directly to the red-haired woman now sobbing uncontrollably in the doctor's arms.
The elevator dinged as it opened. "Just… tired I guess," She blinked away the rest of the tears that threatened to fall as she avoided her brother's concerned gaze. "Come on, I got homework to do," She ushered him into the elevator only to spare one last befuddled look back as the door closed behind them.
The small gas station that employed her was a secret sanctuary to the studious girl. Located at the edge of the suburbs, the Stop & Shop saw little traffic after dark. That night was no exception. Besides the few freight trucks that had passed through and one very lost couple on their way to San Deigo, the area was a ghost town. It was that consistency that led Reagan to believe Hank had hired her more for the company than the actual help.
At seventy-two years old, Hank Creevis was in better shape than most men in the Sheriff's department. Tall and broad, only his leathered skin and deep-set wrinkles gave any indication of his well-worn age. He'd run the family-owned 'Stop & Shop' for over fifty years, though the business was now more a convenience store and gas station than the wilderness post it had once been.
Though he had maintained his intimidating burly figure through the years, the same could not be said about his speed. Still recovering from a recent hip replacement, the cold weather spell seemed to flare up old war wounds. Leaning on his therapy cane, Hank meandered around the store, feather duster in hand as he kept busy and stretched his legs.
At the register, Reagan worked diligently on her homework, knowing better by now than to fight with the bull stubborn man. She bit the end of her pen as she found herself stuck on a particular problem. "I thought Sophie said no more smoking." She glanced up to confirm it was a cigar he'd placed between his teeth.
Hank scoffed at the mention of his overprotective daughter. "Who's gonna tell her?" His gray bushy brows rose in challenge. Reagan narrowed her eyes back, both of them already knowing if asked she wouldn't lie. Hank, lovingly cantankerous as always, grumbled as he continued his dusting. "It ain't even lit."
Reagan raised her hand in surrender, simply there to make sure he was following doctor's order. Her dark blonde ponytail swayed as she shook her head. Unfortunately, part of joining a family-run business was constantly being thrown in the middle of family arguments. Reagan had no illusions about her job. She was nothing more than a glorified babysitter to the old man four nights a week. But the job was easy, rarely busy, and more often than not let her work on her studies on the clock. It wasn't bad work for eleven dollars an hour. Mediating Hank and his daughter's trivial arguments was the hardest part about it.
"We got another one," Hank called. His brows furrowed seeing the new black Chevy Camaro pull up to the pump. While the newer car didn't particularly draw attention, it certainly felt out of place at the edge of the suburbs at such a late hour. "I'll see to 'em."
Reagan tossed her pen to the counter, already out of her chair. "Don't even think about it, old man." She pointed threateningly at him. He wasn't even supposed to be up as it was. Reagan watched the storm clouds above, glad to see the infrequent drizzle had finally stopped. "Any idea when they're fixing the machines?" She pulled her flannel shirt on as an extra layer against the unseasonably cold weather.
"Said they're sending someone out this weekend."
"Not soon enough," she mumbled. A look of displeased recognition befell her at the sight of the driver. "Damn. I'll be back."
As if sensing the sour turn to her mood, Hank regarded the young man outside with renewed suspicion. He looked like the kinda trouble he tried to keep his own girls away from in their youth. "You sure?" He asked once more, wondering if he should let her go out to deal with the rough-looking driver. While the hospitable girl had been hired to offset the old man's crotchety temperament when Sophie couldn't, Hank wasn't quite sure he wanted her being friendly out there. Something about the kid just didn't sit well with him...
The murder in the preserve still weighed heavily on the minds of those who lived along the woods. Fear and doubt were the two most common emotions amongst the town. Despite the Sheriff's public assurance that it was a tragic case of human vs nature, the most recent attack near the school seemed far too close for comfort. "I think I'll-" Hank turned his attention back to Reagan, only to see her halfway out the door.
"You worry too much," Reagan called to him. She gave him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. "I know him, he's a-" her smile fell as she walked away from the old man. "-a friend." The word tasted bitter on her tongue. It wasn't a lie, per se. But it was the best she could come up with to explain how she knew that, of everything in the dark, Derek Hale's sour face was the least of her worries that night.
Hank watched her through the window. The confession made him even more concerned.
Reagan wasn't exactly thrilled by the prospect of another encounter herself, but she had grievances to air and questions that needed answering. The chilly autumn night slapped across her. Reagan closed her loose flannel tight around herself, her face flushing from the sudden burst of cold. "Evening. Credit and debit cards won't work," she greeted.
Derek Hale seemed to stiffen at the familiar, yet unexpected, voice. If he was surprised to see her, it didn't show. His green eyes scanned her up and down, taking note of how different she looked to their past encounters. The black uniform v-neck clung to her under her purple flannel. The tops of her cheeks and nose were tinted pink, and her posture was slightly hunched as she attempted to retain heat in the cold night. The tight smile she so clearly forced at him was charming all the same.
Reagan shifted under his studious gaze. She didn't care for the way he raised a questioning brow, as if her customer service was somehow a trap. She gently swiveled on her heels to shake off the feeling of being watched. Her hand untucked itself from her crossed arms and motioned to the clear 'Out of Order' sign tapped above the pay station. "I can run your card inside unless you want to pay cash."
"It's late," was his only response, a critical tone interwoven in the two words.
Reagan floundered, her face scrunching in confusion at the unexpected turn in tone. "It's ten," she finally settled on.
Derek's upper body twisted as he observed the woods beside them. Incredulous, he turned back to curiously peer at the younger girl. "Are you stupid?"
Reagan's eyes lifted to the fluorescent lights above them as if thinking about it. "Uh…. I'm poor." She answered with a firm nod. A small smile twitched at her lips. She chortled. She didn't imagine someone like him had ever had to live paycheck to paycheck as her family did. "Didn't take you for the type to care about curfews anyway."
As strange as it seemed, Derek Hale seemed far less intimidating up close than he did at a distance. Clad in his usual leather jacket, the black henley shirt that stressed over his broad shoulders and muscular frame showcase muscles that no longer intimidated her. Maybe it was the human way he leaned back against his car as he waited or how the scent of fresh laundry subtly wafted off him. Or perhaps it was just his lack of scowl and squared shoulders. Despite the clear disapproval in his eyes, he seemed relatively and unusually relaxed at that moment. For whatever reason, Reagan suddenly felt silly thinking how intimidating their imaginations had made him out to be.
"Now will that be cash or credit?" she returned to her customer service smile. The werewolf said nothing more as he dug out a simple black wallet from his back jean pocket. He pinched a nondescript card between two fingers and extended it towards her.
Reagan hesitated before snatching it up. Instead of taking off with it, she watched as the numbers on the pump ran up. She slapped the small plastic against her palm in her attempt to stall for time. Derek sighed through his nose yet voiced no other objection as she, too, leaned back against the hood of the car beside him. Unable to think of a way to gracefully broach the subject, she just came straight out with it: "So, you really think he's gonna hurt someone?"
The change of topic to her brother was clear. Earlier that day, desperate for answers and having no other option, Scott had swallowed his pride and gone to the older werewolf despite Stiles and her protesting the idea. Needless to say, Derek hadn't become the warm encouraging mentor Scott seemed to think he'd be. Instead, he was left with the cold truth; that despite his best efforts, there would always be the chance, nay the probability, he would hurt - if not kill - someone. Derek had made the offer to help, but the fact he had directly mentioned he would later expect something in return weighed heavily on her mind.
Once more, Derek didn't mince words. "Yes," came his blunt answer.
"Shows how much you know about him," She challenged. Derek's eye watched her carefully from the corner of his eye. Only a foot or two between them, he didn't need heightened senses to feel the agitation that rolled over her. "Scott isn't like that." Not like you, was the implication.
The tendon in his jaw jumped as his teeth gritted. He spied her staring him down out of the corner of his gaze. Her eyes narrowed in return as she regarded him with something more akin to contemplation.
Laura Hale's grizzly demise had been summarized as a one-in-a-million wolf attack and the case quickly closed. Since it was the only theory the forensic evidence supported, an uncooperative - but very human - Derek Hale had been cleared of any charges. As far as anyone knew, he was simply burying his sister on their land per his family's traditions.
The murder charges were dropped to a misdemeanor of mishandling human remains before Sheriff Stilinski, empathetic to his tragedy and embarrassed at the handling of the case, dropped them altogether. Less than 48 hours after he'd been arrested, Hale walked out scot-free. So -
"-why are you even still here, Derek?" Reagan voiced the question. "Your sister's gone. You've been freed of all charges, so what's keeping you around a town full of people who want to kill you?"
There was an accusation in her tone that stirred something within him. Derek felt the air leave him as his stomach twisted, his fists flexing at his side as something finally snapped.
"You don't know anything," He growled, baring those straight white, currently fangless teeth at her. "I didn't kill her." Derek turned on her, for once staring straight at her. Her confidence wavered under the heaviness of his gaze. "She went missing. I came to find her! And I did. In pieces, used as bait to draw me in!"
The sudden turn from blunt apathy to the raw emotion he hurled at her made Reagan take a step back. His face was taut with anger but his green eyes seemed almost pained. Reagan's heart dropped into her stomach. She turned, facing him fully as they both returned to their straightened heights. Since he was half a head taller than her, her chin raised in both necessity and defiance.
"And it obviously worked." Reagan held his unwavering gaze, sympathy bleeding through at the unexpected emission. "So if it's a trap, why are you still here? Why are you offering to help my brother?" Her voice grew quiet, curious yet gentle in an attempt to keep some calm in the situation. She didn't need a repeat of the locker room… At the reminder of the rage-fueled incident, a thought struck her. "Unless your sister isn't the end of it..."
His jaw twitched under the strain of his gritted teeth. The werewolf averted his attention to the woods around them. It was the only confirmation she needed. "You're gonna kill it...whatever killed her, that's why you're still here-," her voice held quiet awe at the startling realization.
Derek made no sound nor motion to deny it. A chill ran up her spine at the look he shot her. His calm demeanor betraying the fury behind his eyes. A stifling silence settled between them as Regan swallowed back any further remarks. Having gotten more than the answers she was looking for, she turned her back to him to focus on the original task at hand.
The numbers on the pump blinked back at her, the tank had reached its fill at some point during the argument. She pulled a pen from her skinny jeans and jotted down the total on the back of her hand.
Despite every glower, glare, and thinly veiled threat from him; the idea of Derek Hale ever putting his hands on her had never even crossed her mind. Perhaps that was why she was so shaken when he grabbed her shoulder. Reagan inhaled sharply at the unexpected warmth. She held her breath as her head swiveled to stare at the alien appendage. "You should go." His voice low and scratchy from his previous outburst, cautious almost in tone. His grip tightened firmly, but not painfully, around her to accentuate his point.
Had her brain not been trying to catch up with the surprise of how large his hand looked compared to her shoulder, she might have been faster on the uptake. "What?" Her gaze traveled up his arm to the werewolf in question as she gently turned. His face gave nothing away as he watched the multiple trucks and SUVs turn into the otherwise empty station.
He pushed Reagan back towards the store with a small jolt. "Go." This time his tone left no room for argument. His eyes were hyper-focused on the vehicles despite his uncaring expression. "Now."
Reagan was still trying to process the scene unfolding behind her. She obeyed, not from fear, but rather because it was her job. She'd be damned if she let him manhandle her again, though. Hank was still dusting away when she reentered the store pretending he hadn't been keeping one eye on her. He nodded in her direction, attention split between her and the Late Night Show playing from the corner TV. "Everything alright?"
He missed the nervousness in her smile as she ran the card. "I'll scream if I need you." It sounded joking, but in all seriousness, she just might. Whatever was happening was obstructed by the gas pumps and distance between them. She didn't linger in the store this time. Anxious impatience rose within her and desperate to ease it she tore off Derek's receipt mid-print. Reagan knew in her gut something was dangerously amiss when she stepped back into the lot. Now closer, she could see the seriousness of the situation and why he wanted her away from it.
He was stranded in the center as men slowly enclosed him. Most appeared unarmed, but a few brandished heavy firepower meant for big game hunting. She doubted it was bucks they were looking for. Confusion morphed to solid dread as she realized just what was happening.
These were the Hunters that shot her brother.
From between the gas pumps, Derek gave her a sly glance as he casually surveyed the men that surrounded him. The look was clear: Stay away.
Unfortunately for Derek, he'd yet to learn she didn't much care for being told what to do. Still, she wasn't as stupid as he seemed to believe. She lingered back to get a read on the unfriendly situation she had entered. The terse conversation between the men ended, and her role as a bystander with it. The crash of breaking glass spurred her back into action.
Derek's eyes darted to the incoming figure. If Scott's sister wasn't stupid, she was at least stupidly courageous. He had the sudden impression she didn't think much of consequences.
"Here's your receipt… and your card." She appeared between the two pumps. The men that began to advance on him quickly retreated. The weapons in their hands were slowly holstered or hid behind their back. Every man took a wide step away from the girl. All eyes turned towards Argent.
All except one. Reagan feigned innocence as she looked to the broken passenger window now shattered on the ground. She silently handed Derek his card, looking from him back to the window. "Need me to call someone?" The way she said it, it was clear it wouldn't be AAA for a window repair.
Hip replacement or not, she was completely confident all she had to do was get one scream in, and Hank the Tank would be charging out here with his favorite shotgun at the ready. Still, she looked to Derek for his play.
The werewolf rolled his shoulders before gently shaking his head. He and Argent stared each other down. Their silence a clear agreement that their little pow-wow would be put on the back burner for now.
Reagan feigned ignorance; she surveyed the crowd around them. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" She smiled at the new customers. "We're having a bit of a bug on the machines so you'll have to pay cash or let me run your card inside."
"No." Chris smiled kindly at the familiar girl. "We were just leaving, thank you." The near charming smile of Chris Argent belied his dangerous pastime. His short dark blond hair and bright blue eyes looked nothing like his dark-haired, brown-eyed daughter. Yet the smile, that disarming smile pointed right at her, was the same. Something in it twisted when his eyes landed on Derek. "Drive safe."
Reagan didn't move until he had driven off with the others. The young adults stood under the harsh fluorescent lights in silence. A growing familiarity with the act now.
"That-" Derek pointed at the red taillights leaving them. "-was stupid." He revisited his previous point.
The girl sharply rolled her eyes. "What a weird thank you," she muttered under her breath. Reagan busied herself, straightening her flannel and tightening her loose ponytail. Derek spared her one last scathing glance as he walked around the side of his car.
Under the perception that she may not have another chance, Reagan forced herself to ask a question that had been on her mind for quite some time now. "Why'd you do it?" She shouted between them.
He said nothing as he squared his shoulders and waited for her to elaborate.
"Your sister… Why didn't you just say something when you found her? Didn't it get to you? Having them think you were capable of something like that? Being called a murderer?" There was a weight to that word that sat heavily on her tongue. She could only imagine what it felt like attached to someone's shoulders.
"Didn't care." His head gave a slight roll of a shake in time with his shoulder shrug.
She didn't quite believe him. Reagan looked at the oil-stained pavement. Though he gave the impression he could care less, his previous outburst argued otherwise. Reagan couldn't imagine losing Scott in such a way. The idea of someone accusing her of being capable of such a thing, leaving someone she loved like that to rot - it made her stomach roll.
Hearing the Camaro door pop open she lifted her shame-filled gaze. In a possibly pathetic attempt, she called out to him, swallowing both her pride and the sudden dryness in her throat. His eyes rolled as he looked back at her, one foot already in the car. His annoyance was palpable now. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, prompting her to get it out so he could leave. He had a passenger window to replace and his night was just beginning.
"I'm sorry," came her soft reply. And she meant it. She really did.
Neither truly knew just what exactly she was apologizing for. A bundle of things maybe. For accusing him of murder, for disturbing his sister's grave, and perhaps for not realizing a bit earlier that he was sincere in his intention to help her brother - ulterior motives aside… She'd seen a taste of Chris Argent and his friends tonight. She didn't want her brother dealing with them alone.
Reagan expected a glare, a sneer, a passive-aggressive comeback that would try to make her feel inferior in retaliation to the lame apology. She did not expect Derek's silence. His pinched brow smoothed as he listened, finding nothing but honesty in her steadily thrumming heart. He gave a single nod of acceptance before getting in the car and driving off.
Left alone under the buzzing lights, Reagan crossed her arms, feeling less heavy now that she'd made her peace. She suddenly remembered why her mother didn't want her working that night as the wind howled through the trees across the street. Positioned at the edge of one of the preserve lines, the thick trees weren't even reached by the gas station's lighting. The longer she stared at the darkness, the creepier it got. She blamed Derek for her sudden mistrust.
She kept her gaze wandering, never settling one place too long as she walked back to the safety of the Stop & Shop.
She almost overlooked it.
Turning just short of the doors, Reagan stared at her car. The front left of it sagging lower than the rest. She crouched down, inspecting the flattened tire that had been fine just hours ago. Her hand gently ran over the rubber, straining to see what could have damaged it with only the light of the store behind her. She expected to find a nail, or perhaps glass that she's run over when driving in. It was neither…
Her blood froze as her splayed fingers ran over four gnarly gashes. In a test, her own hand arched and dug in, mimicking the unnatural claw that had shredded them with intent.
She now understood what had Derek so critical. It was the clue she needed to read between the lines. Without a doubt, she now knew there was something else hunting in Beacon Hills. Reagan shot up, stumbling as she swiveled to examine the woods around her. Retreating into the well-lit store, she locked the door and turned to Hank. "What to do you say we call it early tonight?" She could only hope her heart-pounding fear didn't show in the smile she gave him.
Hopefully, Scott wouldn't mind cutting his date a bit short.
It was just past eleven when Reagan turned off the lights and locked the doors to the small station. Eager to get the smell of motor oil and gasoline off her, Reagan nearly jogged to their mother's car as Hank entered his own. "Thanks. My tire, uh, went flat. I guess some asshole left glass in the parking lot." She cleared her throat. "So, how was your date?" The change of topic was genuine as she steered the conversation away from work and subsequently her run-in with Derek. "Go well or-?"
She looked over to see that Scott had still yet to even falter in his beaming smile. "That good?" Reagan laughed. "Even after suffering through watching you bowl?"
Scott kept his recap of the night vague. He didn't want to tell her just how badly he had sucked, nor just what lewd advice he'd been given to raise his game - and almost another part of him while they were at it. "And yeah, I guess it was this werewolf sense or, or something." He blushed at the memory.
"Ah! Look at you." She lightly poked his shoulder before singing, "Scotty has a girlfriend. Scotty has a girlfriend!"
"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. "And why are you being so annoying? It's not like she's the first." He mumbled, both knowing that wasn't quite true. He just wasn't expecting her to call him on it.
Reagan let out a snort. "Which do you mean?" A laugh built in her voice. "Cassie, the gold digger who followed you around second grade for your lunch cookies? Or Delilah, that middle school fling that lasted for, like, a week while she copied your homework, only to push you in a mud puddle when it turned out you were getting a C?" Reagan broke into a full laugh at her brother's expense, the unfortunate breakup well documented since it was picture day. "And-and you had to wear my pink fuzzy sweater." Reagan's hard night was forgotten in preference for the memory of a simpler time. Back when her brother's big crisis was wet clothing and a bad science grade.
Scott was in such a good mood not even the memory of the immortalized yearbook picture could smoother it. "She still kissed me." He defended as he parked on their curb.
"Back then so did Grandma." It was the end of the discussion as they exited the car. Reagan's giggles subsiding into an easy grin.
Walking up the path, Regan hooked her arm around her brother's shoulders, pulling him closer into a lazy side hug, both in support and exhaustion. "But seriously: I think she's great. Just be careful, okay?" Reagan rested her weight on Scott, her tired legs feeling like lead as they walked up the short steps. "Because if she breaks your heart I'll kill her," She released him with a firm squeeze of his shoulder, pushing him forward so he could open the door. Scott looked back with a smile, the joking threat seeming empty in the moment because he couldn't possibly fathom such a turn. Indeed, the boy was already lovesick.
The house was dark and quiet when they entered, their only greeting the soft jangling of the cats' collars as they rushed away. Their efforts to be quiet were in vain as a pair of high screams sounded from upstairs.
"Stiles, what the hell are you even doing here?!"
"What am I doing?! God, do any of you even play baseball?!" He shrunk under the bat that still loomed above him.
Reagan flipped on the lights as she and Scott entered the room, all sense of urgency was gone at the name.
Melissa turned her wide eyes on them, dropping the bat to her side. Her jaw grew taut with annoyance at her near heart attack. She didn't even bother to greet them."Can you please tell your friend to use the front door?"
"But we lock the front door," Scott thoughtlessly reminded, "so he wouldn't be able to get in-"
"Yeah, exactly!" Melissa looked back and forth at her children and Stiles. Her panic mind slowing down, she was able to register that her children seemed to just now be getting home. She spared a second glance at her daughter's jeans and the embroidered t-shirt hidden under her flannel, before turning the same scrutinizing once-over to her well-dressed son. Her head cocked to the side, motioning between them with the bat. "And, by the way, do any of you care that there's a police-enforced curfew?!"
Blunt and without remorse, they shrugged. "No."
"No? Alright then. Well, you know what?" She threw the bat down next to Stiles, putting up her hands in surrender. "That's about enough parenting for me for one night, so ... goodnight!" Defeated, Melissa tightened the belt on her robe and made a hasty retreat back to her warm bed and Netflix queue.
"Good night." They called after her, only slightly guilty for her jump scare.
As soon as she left, Stiles gave a sigh that made both younger McCalls focus back on him. "My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago. It's the bus driver." Stiles picked at his nails nervously. "They said he succumbed to his wounds."
Reagan pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache already forming at the reminder this was now their lives. Scott seemed lost, looking between the apprehensive teens for an explanation.
"Succumbed?"
"It means he died." Reagan crossed her arms, looking to the floor. Her mind wasn't the only one racing a mile a minute.
Scott felt a fury build deep within his chest. Derek's words repeated in his head, heartless and cruel given the current circumstances. If they were right, and it wasn't him, he had a feeling he knew who did. "Derek." The name was growled by a now inhuman part of him.
Reagan and Stiles both sent him questioning looks, but Scott didn't care to explain. The werewolf darted from the room, his feet thumping against the stairs before Reagan could even make it to the door. Her hands gripped the frame, leaning out with a growl of her own. "Scott!" She tried to call him back without waking their mother. The front door closed before she'd even finished. He was already gone.
"He didn't do it." She was adamant in her declaration.
"What?"
"Derek." She turned back to Stiles, hoping to at least get him to see common sense. "He didn't kill his sister. So why would he kill the bus driver? It just brings more attention to him and Scott." She pushed up the sleeves of her flannel shirt before crossing her arms once more.
"Whoa!" Stiles signaled a timeout. "Last week we're getting him arrested, now we're on his side?!" Stiles face scrunched in confusion. He wondered just how little sleep she was getting to affect her like this.
"He told me his sister went missing." She took a seat on the bed next to him, already giving up on chasing Scott. "He came back to find her, but she was already dead. You should have seen the way Allison's father looked at Derek tonight-" Reagan stood up and began to slowly pace in front of him.
"Tonight?"
"-he knew what he was. I'm guessing he also knew what Laura Hale was. I think the hunters killed her, the ones that tried to kill Scott."
"What do you mean, tonight, what tonight?" Stiles sputtered out, very confused.
"Derek was at the gas station tonight." She spared him a glance. "And he sorta stopped by the house before that." She rubbed her hands together, might as well tell him everything.
"Now you're having secret rendezvous with the enemy?!" Stiles scoffed. He pulled at his short strands of hair, flabbergasted at just how bad an idea that was. "Seriously?!"
"They are not secret nor are they rendezvous." Her nose scrunched, worrying a nail between her teeth.
"With the enemy." He tried to make a point.
"He's not the enemy, Stiles." Her pacing stopped at the end of the room, her eyes wide and hard, leaving no room for further argument as she stared him down. "If he can teach Scott how to control this, how not to kill us, and how to keep him alive and not torn in two: he's our new best friend."
※ The Kills - Sour Cherry ※
Please Review. I wonder how far I can get in this story before Derek learns/uses her name.