Chapter 2: Shape-Shifted

Hey, guys! So, it was my intention to upload this earlier, but I got sidetracked like 20 times. But no fear, 'cause it's here c: Thank you all for the reviews, follows, and favorites and hopefully I won't disappoint any of you guys!

And as for romance for this story, you'll just have to wait and see ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Except Charlie.

I was in the middle of an intense game of Angry Birds on the bench while watching the lacrosse practice. And by watching, I mean taking up space. Not very much space considering I had to wedge myself between Stiles and Matt who were thoroughly irritated when I couldn't make myself comfortable.

"Why's Scott playing goal, he hates playing goal?"

"I have a plan, just trust me," Stiles answered simply.

I scoffed and looked back at my losing game. "The last time you said that, I ended up on the floor with a bruised butt."

"I said to hold on!"

"Mhm, sure," I mumbled distractedly. The kid has forever and always had butterfingers. Speaking of Butterfingers, I really want one now. Thanks, Stiles.

"Woo, go Scott," I cheered halfheartedly. You'd be surprised how distracting Angry Birds is. Especially when you're somewhere you're not supposed to be in the first place. Every now and again I would hear the shutter of Matt's camera signaling him taking a picture.

"Daehler!" Coach Finstock yelled.

"Yeah?" Matt and I called out at the same time. I pulled my eyes away from my screen to glare at my twin who was doing the same. We were never the ones for that cutesy twin shit. But ironically, we were both rocking leather jackets today.

"Not you," Coach said, eyeing Matt. "You. What're you doing here?"

Normally I would panic because I'd just been caught, but I've prepared for this moment for a while now. Having a repertoire of excuses came with the territory of living in Beacon Hills.

"I'm writing an article for the school paper," I grinned, pulling out my notebook covered in school stickers. "It's about the wins the lacrosse team has been racking up. I'm here to get the inside scoop about how you do what you do," I summed up. "Care to hear a snippet?" Without waiting for an answer, I stood up and began pacing in front of the bleachers. "Coach Finstock has a true passion for coaching that you can truly see on and off the field. Between the classroom and the field, he never stops and it just makes you wonder if he's a miracle worker or simply a godsend." I glanced up to see I had caught the attention of the benchwarmers and a few on the field. Sure, some of them looked annoyed that I was interrupting practice, but bad attention is still attention. Or however that saying goes.

"His true admiration for coaching shines through the second those Friday night lights hit the field and doesn't quit even for practices where his tough love and genuine-"

"Okay, okay. I got it," Coach Finstock blurted, straightening his jacket with a smirk and turning his attention back to the players. With a shrill blow to the whistle, he yelled out. "What are you ladies waiting for? Line up! McCall, get in the goal!"

And that's how you do it.

Sitting back on the bleachers, Stiles gave me a fist bump while mouthing the word nice as he ran out to the field. I felt someone staring at me and looked at Matt who looked absolutely gob smacked. "I knew we're related somehow."

I scoffed and turned back to my game of Angry Birds. "Please, I taught you everything you know." I felt him glare at me before leaving to line up on the field with the rest of players.

"Ugh, screw Angry Birds," I groaned as I tossed my phone next to me which made a loud clank. Matt's camera caught my eye and I instantly decided to snoop through his pictures. The kid is a pretty decent photographer. Plus, it makes sense since he's a quiet, private guy. You know, with living behind a lens and all that. I shuffled through a few and ooh'ed and ahh'ed whenever I saw a particular awesome picture. Granted, it was usually a picture of me, but who's really paying attention? (Me, I am.) I scanned through a few more pictures and paused to examine one that looked awfully familiar…

Me. A Listerine bottle. And a whole lot of cuddling.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I mumbled under my breath. I hopped up and quickly found my brother's number. "Daehler! Seriously?" I yelled. He turned his head and sheepishly shrugged his shoulders with that stupid smirk on his face that I could make out through his face mask. Apparently there was something about to go down between Scott and Isaac, but the Sheriff and a couple of other officers had shown up and were now interrupting the practice.

Damn, I'd pay to see that fight.

Stuffing my notebook into my bag and tossing it over my shoulder, I abandoned the bench and jogged over to where Scott and Stiles were talking amongst themselves.

"It's him," Scott said simply once I made it up to them.

My eye caught something on the edge of the woods. Something pale, leather, and brooding.

That is some impeccable and creepy timing, Derek.

"What?" I asked once Scott's voice brought me back to earth.

"I can smell it on him," Scott stressed, not taking his eyes away from Derek.

Obviously, I missed something major in transit. Scott being pissy with Derek isn't anything new. But Isaac being involved? Totally new.

"Is that why you guys almost went all Mortal Kombat on each other?" Scott nodded once more. "Because of Derek?"

"His father's dead," Scott said distractedly. "They think he was murdered."

"Wait," I interrupted before Stiles could answer Scott. "You're mad at Isaac because he's involved with Derek? And now the cops are here because Isaac's dad is dead—murdered, in fact."

"Yes," they both confirmed.

"How do we know Derek didn't do it?"

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asked. Geez, I'd be lying if I said his dad didn't give me the creeps, but the last thing I thought I'd hear was that he was murdered by his own son.

"Derek?"

"No, Isaac."

"I'm not sure. Why?" Scott asked.

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours."

"What, like overnight?" Scott asked.

Stiles nodded and confirmed. "During the full moon."

"Are any of those holding cells any good at holding people?"

"People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good."

"Probably," I repeated with a frown etched on my face. "Great, so another werewolf with the potential to maim and kill."

"Ugh," Stiles groaned as he saw Matt making his way over to the trio.

Luckily, Scott and Stiles walked away while Matt jogged over. "Any idea what that was all about?" He asked as he jerked his head toward the retreating officers with Isaac in tow. I shrugged my shoulders to play the role of the clueless bystander. "Maybe he jaywalked?"

"Maybe it has something to do with his dad."

"What about his dad?"

"He didn't tell you? His dad-"

"Daehler!"

Fucking Coach Finstock.

"Yeah, yeah. Stop distracting your players, I got it. Save the lecture, Coach," I grumbled as I tightened my grip on my bag and headed back toward the school.

Eventually, I got my well-deserved Supernatural and Twizzlers time. I'd like to take this time to thank Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski and their ridiculous, undying ambition to stick their noses in everybody's business. Long story short, Harris and paper balls made the perfect storm for after school detention. And I wasn't dragged out for an after-school adventure in the woods. It's officially Destiel time and nothing hurts. It'd be such a shame if it were cut short.

"Oh my god!"

Such a shame.

I grabbed the crossbar wrench that I kept hidden under the couch. If he wasn't screaming bloody murder, then I wouldn't bothered breaking out weapons, but duty calls. Anyway, I ran up the stairs to see what all the commotion was about and headed straight to Matt's room to find him staring at one of his lens.

"What is it? Who died?"

"My lens, he scratched it making his stupid sex tape." I dropped my stance and furrowed my eyebrows together.

"Start over."

Matt huffed before explaining that he lent Jackson a camera. "He insisted on having one that recorded in 'low lighting", he mocked, rolling his eyes. Aw, the poor kid couldn't catch a break. First, the creepy old man (said man is now our creepy, old man principal) snaps his memory card and now this.

I snorted at his poor impression of Jackson and sat on his bed. "Dude, his parents have a ton of money, just make him pay for it."

Matt examined his camera silently before looking up. "Can you?"

"I can't even stand to be in the same room as him because I'm afraid I'm gonna die from the amount of hair spray and cologne the boy uses, okay?" I ranted. "I mean, I'm 90% sure he's the reason for the hole in the ozone layer. From a practical stand point, a normal, healthy person should have full coverage insurance to be in the same room as him."

"Ugh, come on, Charlie. You're a girl and you have...you know," he trailed off as he pointed to where he would have boobs.

"You can't be serious."

He walked over and took a seat next to me before wrapping one arm around me and shaking me. "Please," he whined.

With a record breaking eye roll, I gave in. "Fine, fine. What's on this thing anyway?" I asked while getting up to grab the camera. Matt was over to it with two long steps and a flushed face.

He snatched the camera and stuffed it away in a drawer. "I promised I wouldn't show anyone. The lighting is too dark to see anything. Plus there's nothing on here, I already erased it," he babbled quickly.

I lifted an eyebrow. "That's a lotta reasons."

"Just trust me."

I eyed him, the drawer, and him again. I picked up my crowbar wrench and attempted to be threatening. Which was particularly difficult in a Power Rangers shirt and track shorts. "Okay, but you owe me for this Jackass thing," I added as I walked out of his room and to mine to put away my weapon.

"You're the best!"

"Tell me something I don't know, br-Jesus, Stiles you're the reason we got a doorbell. Use it!" I yelled, instantly taking my ready-to-attack stance that I learned from Scott.

Seriously, I didn't shock myself for fun when I fixed that doorbell. And yet, here's Stiles, biting his knuckles to keep himself from laughing. "Shut it, Stilinski," I scolded, standing straighter.

"I'm sorry, Char."

According to that smirk, he's definitely not sorry.

"It's just you looked really ridiculous," he said in between giggles. Yes, giggle. And I can't wait to tell Lydia that her impending (but not really) husband-to-be giggles.

But even I had to admit it was kinda cute and was biting back a smile.

"Would you two hurry up?" A voice impatiently asked from my window.

I frowned and stretched to look around Stiles to see Derek halfway out of my window. "Oh, hey Miguel, I'm shocked to see you here," I sarcastically said, tossing Crowy into my closet. "What are yo—"

"We don't have time for any more questions. Let's go," he's stressed with an eye roll. Aw, he loves us.

Without making any moves to get ready, I looked to Stiles for an explanation. He looked back at Derek who wore the same irritated expression. "Isaac," was all he said before turning back to me.

Okay, Destiel could wait. Besides, I had most of my fix for the night.

Over my shorts, I slipped on the pair of jeans I was wearing earlier. Because let's be honest: jeans aren't dirty until you wear them twice. I slipped on a pair of black Converse's and slipped my phone into my pocket.

"Such a sourwolf," Stiles mumbled as I tugged on a hoodie.

"Let's. Go. Or they're gonna kill him," Derek grumbled through gritted teeth. He glanced down and let go of my window sill and I heard a soft thump.

Geez, okay Criss Angel.

"Took you two long enough, Derek complained as we approached the jeep. "Shotgun," he added.

That's right ladies and gents. Derek Hale insists on riding shotgun. It may or may not have something to do with the teeny, tiny scratch on Derek's car that I may or may not have accidentally put there.

"Okay, the keys of every cell are in a password protected lock-box in my father's office. The problem is getting past the front desk, Stiles explained as I poked my head between them to peer through the windshield.

"I'll distract her," Derek said, making a move to open his door. Stiles grabbed his jacket. "Whoa, you? You can't go in there," he claimed.

Derek eyed him viciously, his hand, and then back to him.

It only took a second for the boy to process.

"I'm taking my hand off," he said, his tone noticeably lighter.

"I was exonerated," Derek defended.

"You're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person."

"Oh, is that why you skulk around town watching teenagers?"

Derek simply shrugged. Damn, I thought that would at least get an eye roll or even a glare.

"Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her."

No shit, Sherlock.

"Uh, huh, how? By punching her in the face?"

"That could work," I piped up. Derek gave an unamused, short laugh.

Hey! That's a new one.

"By talking to her."

"Okay, alright. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?" Stiles pushed. I turned my head to stare at Derek. Now this was something I wanted to see. But with my luck and Derek's "humor" all I got was dead silence.

Granted, his face was still distracting. I could definitely see it.

"Dead silence— that should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

"I'm thinking about punching you in the face," Derek quipped. I snorted unattractively and leaned back in my seat. Don't wanna get caught up in the crossfire. But then again, would getting punched in the face by Derek be such a bad thing? "I'm also thinking you two are gonna have to split up."

"Are you crazy?" I exclaimed, sitting back up to face him. " Haven't you ever seen Scooby-Doo? Or any zombie movie ever, Miguel?"

"Oh god, you got her started," Stiles grumbled, face palming into his steering wheel.

"Seriously, Miguel you're trying to get us all killed. That's like the number one rule in horror movies! Oh my, god have you even seen a movie?"

"Yes," he snapped, sending me that stupid brooding, annoyed look.

I didn't believe that for a damn second.

"Indulge me. C'mon, name one movie you've seen," I demanded. Unsurprisingly, I was met with silence.

"If he's already turned, then maybe you can calm him down long enough for me to get back there," he explained, ignoring my demand. "Now go before I get this done myself."

I scoffed one last time and crawled out on Stiles' side of the car and slamming the door shut. "I bet he's never seen Scooby-Doo," he said knowingly. Derek huffed as he entered through the front of the station alone while Stiles and I made our way to the side entrance. Once inside, I decided I had to see Derek's ingenious plan to "distract her."

Omg, Miguel's teeth are like perfect little pieces of Orbit and now I really want me some Orbit.

A tug on my arm brought me back to earth. I want to be perfectly clear about the fact that I am not a mind reader. So, when Stiles' began wildly gesturing that we split up, I was not thrilled and also annoyed. Especially since he pointed that I go to the holding cell. On top of not being a mind reader—I was also not the Isaac Whisperer.

Unfortunately, none of this was up for debate as Stiles nudged me in the direction of the holding cell. I'm pretty unfamiliar with the layout of the station despite going over it in the car. And yes, I was daydreaming about Nick Jonas during that part of the plan. The sound of a very loud and very annoying alarm began to rang in bursts. I can't think of one universe where that sound would be good. Except this one. Well, in this case of me finding the alarm, and, in turn; the holding cell. Which was, unfortunately pried open and empty.

This was both a beautiful solution and a horrible goddamn problem. Oh, yeah, and how am I supposed to explain to Miguel that I lost his werewolf? I could take full responsibility. Or I could blame Nick Jonas. Or, or, or—I could blame the horrible idea of splitting up.

With the alarm still ringing, I knew our time was dangerously limited. I turned to leave the empty holding cell but was met with an officer limped in along with a struggling Stiles whom was shoved on the floor. The two looked at the holding cell door and then finally took notice of me. I shrugged and opened my mouth to say something, but only managed to get a load of nothing out.

Stiles gave me a look before wildly gesturing to the imposing officer. "Oh, is he...? Crap," I stuttered, finally noticing the syringe filled with wolfsbane. A bad guy. Right. Because why would anything go right in this town? "Shit," I mumbled, no longer gaping at the hunter but now at Isaac (who I totally didn't lose) who appeared in the doorway.

With a simple swipe of his arm, he sent the bad guy/hunter flying to the concrete wall, effectively knocking him unconscious. Isaac turned to me and snarled as if any of this was my idea. Despite the fact that knocked some dude out without thinking and was now zeroing in on Stiles and I, he was still that same kid who traded Pokémon cards and laughed when I couldn't pronounce them.

I still hadn't moved from my spot because I was too busy staring at his yellow, glowing eyes. Chills began creeping up my arms as I tried my best to keep my composure. "Isaac?" I called out in a shaky voice. Isaac began to slacken in his stance a little, but I felt what I assume is Stiles pull at my wrist to pull me behind and hidden from further view. Maybe I was the Isaac Whisperer and I was actually useful for something. But, we'll never know thanks to Stiles. Sure, he saved me from maybe being mauled, but at what cost?

Plus, I'm not sure what part him thinks a desk is gonna protect us from a raging werewolf, but whatever part that is, is a part we need to get checked out.

I watched as Stiles dug around for his phone while he mumbled something about Derek and Scott. While he was busy with that, I chanced a look over the desk to see Derek.

The shatter from a boot meeting a glass syringe was enough to catch everyone's attention. Very soon after that, a loud and long growl came from Derek. Something I never heard before. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I would ever hear again after that. That growl put the fear of god into me.

Isaac apparently agreed as he turned back into the boy I recognized. Stiles who also seemed as shook as me looked up at Derek from behind the desk. "How did you do that?"

With a glowing red eyes, Derek turned and smirked. "I'm the Alpha."

Talk about dramatics.

Isaac silently stood from his cowering position against the wall. I glanced up at him and quickly broke the eye contact. Believe me when I tell you that seeing one of your childhood friend try to maim and kill you changes things a smidge.

But I should know better considering one of my best friends used to have the same issue. And now he uses his girlfriend werewolf hunter as an anchor, but that's neither here nor there.

"We've gotta go." Was all I heard before Derek and Isaac were gone in a blink, leaving Stiles and I along with an incapacitated "officer" with us.

"Now what?" Stiles asked wryly. I let out a deep breath and stood up. "We go home," I answered simply. He grabbed my out stretched hand and easily hoisted himself up.

"I wonder where he got that uniform from..." He said thoughtfully as he stared at him. Suddenly the alarm stopped and Sheriff Stilinski and a few other officers filed in.

"Oh, uh, he did it."

Yeah, you can guess how well that held over.

"You know, just when I think your dad's lectures can't get any longer, they do," I said thoughtfully. I swear Sheriff Stilinski holds a world record for the longest lecture. To be fair, this one was very well deserved.

"Please, that was one of his shorter ones," Stiles scoffed as he turned down my road. "What do think you think your chances are of leaving the house ever again?"

"Negative to like…double negative," I mumbled.

"Which makes a positive," Stiles finished with a grin.

"Even though he's back on the graveyard shift at the mall, my dad will make his business to keep me at home. I'll be surprised if I can make it school tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah," he pouted as we pulled into my empty driveway. "Where's your creepy brother?"

"Shut up," I scolded. "And I don't know," I frowned, checking my phone for the first time that night. "Out with a friend, don't wait up," I read monotonously. Way to be vague, bro. I turned from my phone screen when I heard a camera shutter and a flash that followed. "What're you doing?"

"Cherishing the moment since I won't ever see you again," Stiles answered simply. I sent him an unimpressed look (which I'm sure I picked up from Derek).

With my finger pointed and ready to blame, I opened my mouth to begin my rant. "You know this is your fault, right?" I scolded as I reached for the door handle. "Honestly, I think you owe me a—"

"Wait," he gasped, grabbing my hoodie. "Did you read the messages from Scott and Allison?"

"No, I just assumed they were fighting again. I'll read them later," I promised before turning to leave again. I was exhausted and could still hear the echo of the screeching alarm bouncing around in my head.

No, wait," he gasped again, pulling at my hoodie.

"You're gonna stretch this out, Stilinski."

"Sorry, bad habit, I guess," he apologized sheepishly before letting go. "He said he and Allison saw something."

Okay, did everyone get bit by the vague-bug tonight, or what? "Another hunter? Another mauling? What? What is it?"

"They think it's the same thing that killed Isaac's dad because it showed up while they were at Isaac's place tonight." He kept reading from phone. "A lizard? A killer lizard?"

"Is this a joke? Am I being punked right now?"

Stiles replied with a blurry picture of said killer lizard. This only encouraged me to study more so I could go to an out of state school in a completely normal town.

"Where did this thing come from? And do we think it's after Isaac now? What about Lydia? Are we sure this isn't her? What if it's Allison's creepy grandpa? But why would it kill Isaac's dad?" Was it unfair for me to shoot these questions at Stiles? Almost definitely. But it was late. And I was tired. Too tired for something new. "Why did we break Isaac out of jail?"

"Because he was going to kill the hunter was going to kill him," Stiles answered with a tired expression.

"And that means it's safer for Isaac to prowl around out there than in a holding cell."

"The holding cell was never going to work anyway."

"So, does that mean Isaac can actually take on this thing."

A very, very confused expression appeared on Stiles's face at that. "Are you saying we throw Isaac to the wolv—killer lizard?"

"I—no—I m—"

"C'mon, even I know that's wrong no matter how annoying the kid is."

"I wasn't—you misunderstoo—whatever, back to the giant lizard." I repeated, leaning back into my seat with a freshly warm face. "So, do we think this thing is tied to Isaac somehow?"

Stiles shrugged, tapping his fingers nervously on his steering wheel. I probably opened a can of worms with that question and all the other ones bouncing around in my head. "Possibly, I think—"

"Actually," I interrupted before he could really get started. "I should head home and at least pretend I wasn't up to no good tonight."

"Right," Stiles said with a defeated expression. "Just try not to think about how there's a giant lizard roaming around town."

I scoffed before finally opening the car door and stepping out. "Easier said than done. Especially when I'm quite literally dragged into these situations. In fact, we should keep a diary of all of this. It's way too much to keep up with. Chemistry is enough to rock my world and then add werewolves and friends into the equation and it's an actual shitshow."

"I know," was all Stiles said. I had plenty more to say, but a yawn took precedent over my next bit. Stiles took note and pointed to my house behind me. "I'll see you."

I didn't even bother to wave when he started his Jeep back up. In fact, I made sure to glare at him as he backed out of my driveway. The quietness from the night was unwelcomed as it meant my thoughts were the only thing making noise.

I walked up to my front door, but stopped once I realized I didn't grab my keys when I left. Plus, there was goo all over the door knob. I covered my hand with my sleeve and ran my hand through the substance. Suppressing a gag, I brought my hand up to my face to give a sniff. Super gross, I know, but there's tons of stuff you can find out just from scent. At least that's what Scott told me. I wiped the rest of the goo on my pants in defeat. I left the front door to go climb the tree and into my cracked window and in my room. I managed to scan my room for any surprise visitors before stripping off my clothes and passing out on top of the covers.

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