Hello! Before we start, you should know that there have been some small edits done to the earlier chapters. Chapters 2 and 3 have small scenes added, which introduce two new characters - Ares' friends from back home - and give a bit more insight on her character.

I find Stiles sitting at the bench, a bit off to himself. He's watching the field, face drawn in worry, and I can't say I blame him. He doesn't notice my arrival until after I sit next to him.

"Ares!" He jumps as I situate the sign by my legs. "What're you doing here?" He frowns in confusion and glances down at my signs before looking back up at me as I shift, making myself as comfortable as one can be on these crappy benches. I should bring a blanket to sit on for the next game.

"Watching the game, obvi," I drawl. He stares at me before flailing wildly when I don't get up to move.

"You're not allowed to sit here!" I give him a pointed look and he backpedals. "I mean, no one can tell you where to sit, but it's suggested you go to the stands."

I roll my eyes. "Stands are boring. This is where you get to see the action." I pause before going on, voice lower. "Also I want to be close in case anything happens to Scott."

He nods, chewing on his glove, which ew. How many germs does that thing have on it? "Alright, logic."

Damn straight, alright logic.

"Hey kid." For once, Stiles doesn't actually jump, an impressive feat. Then again, considering it's his dad, I figure he knows his voice well enough to not. The Sheriff thumps his back, leaning over next to him.

"Hey," Stiles says, not taking his eyes off the field, where some of his teammates, Scotty included, warm up.

"Yo, Sheriff." Stilinski leans forward to look at me and I offer him a small salute. He frowns, and in this moment, one can totally see the relations between Sheriff and Spazy Child.

"Ares, why are you sitting over here?"

"This is where the fun stuff is," I tell him. "Also I figure I can con this nerd into telling me what's going on." I lean over and thump Stiles' shoulder with my own. Sheriff Stilinski arches a brow, but doesn't argue.

"Right, well." He turns his attention to his kid. "Any chance you'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" We exchange looks. "Maybe."

"My tia is over there somewhere, if you wanna sit with her," I tell him, smiling brightly. "You know, old people sticking together."

"Watch it, young lady," he says sternly, pointing a finger at me. "I'll have you know Melissa gave me grounding rights to you."

I give him a flat look. "Grounding, Sheriff? I'm nineteen. I'm an adult; I'm gonna be doing taxes this year."

"I will take your car keys," he threatens, but he's smiling as he reaches over and flicks my forehead.

"Hey!" I glare at him, rub the sore spot.

"Be good, you two." With that, he leaves. I frown at Stiles.

"He won't really take my car keys, will he?"

He glances over at me. "Welcome to the McCall-Stilinski family, Ares. Melissa gets punishing rights over me and my dad gets punishing rights over you and Scott."

I crinkle my nose. "I'm not a McCall."

"You are in spirit - look, can you just focus on the game?"

I roll my eyes, but turn my attention to the game. The game that is basically hockey on grass. I don't really see the appeal. As far as I can tell, things are going all right. At least until I realized that no one was passing to Scotty, and the one time he almost got the ball, a member of his own team shoved him aside and snatched it away.

"That's bull shit!" I exclaim, jumping up and getting the attention of the other players. "They're on the same team! Why would he do that?!"

"Ares, that was Jackson," Stiles explains. He says it with such disdain, I figure it has to have some importance behind it. I frown, trying to place the name and the annoyace it brings up.

"Oh, shit, is that the kid Scotty broke?" Before he can answer, a chorus of cheers for this Jackson kid rings out behind us. We look back to see two girls, one being that ginger from earlier, holding a sign for the guy.

"Brutal," Stiles says, looking back to Scott, who stands in the middle of the field, staring at the sign with slumped shoulders.

"Fuck that," I snap, reaching down and grabbing my own sign - Scotty McHotty #11 - and holding it up over my head. "No one makes my baby cousin feel inadequate but me."

"Ares, what're you-"

"Let's go Scott!" I shout, pulling his attention from the girls. "Scotty! McHotty!"

"Ares-"

"Make the girls go naughty!"

"Oh my god." Stiles drops his face in his hands. Scott, frozen on the field, relaxes, shaking his head. "You're the worst."

"I think you mean the best," I counter, turning toward the crowd with the sign still up. The girls notice, and while the cute brunette beams at the sign, clapping and tugging at her friend's arm, Ginger narrows her eyes at me. I cock my head to the side, smiling sweetly as Alicia taught me. And yeah, I might be acting petty, but if there's anything I'm good at, it's that. I turn back to Stiles, sitting back down as the teams regroup and holding the sign in my lap. "He isn't killing anyone now. I'm distracting him."

"You're embarrassing him!"

My head drops to the side. "Stiles. When did the bragging of being able to get female companions get embarrassing?"

He shakes his head. "You're horrible."

"Just watch the game, mijo."

The game goes on. And literally no one passes to Scott. No one. Even from the the sidelines it's easy to see how frustrated he's getting, despite my best efforts with the sign. Frustration leading to anger. Anger leading to wolfing out. Close to the end, Beacon Hills is down two points, five to three.

"This is bad," Stiles mutters, chewing on his lip. "He's getting pissed."

"How do we get him not pissed?"

"I dunno, why don't you distract him again," he says sarcastically. I glare down at him and he winces. "It's a legit suggestion!" I look back at the girls with the Jackson sign. The dark haired one looks slightly annoyed with it, but holds it all the same. "Look, maybe if he gets a goal, it'll calm him down?"

"Stiles…" The players line up again. I keep my eyes on Scotty, shake my sleeves down over my hands. "Keep it cool, mijo," I say quietly. His head shoots up in my direction. "Oh my god, can you hear me right now?" I demand. Stiles looks over at me like I'm crazy as Scott gives a small nod of his head. "Are you okay? Do I need to set anyone on fire?" He shakes his head, barely noticeable.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles demands, smacking my arm. I nod over at Scott.

"He can hear me! Dude's got super sweet werewolf powers now, how cool is that?" I turn back to Scott. "Look, just stay cool. You'll be fine."

He doesn't acknowledge this comment, as the game starts up again. And Scotty fucking goes. He literally uses another player's shoulder as a platform to jump as he makes a goal.

"Holy shit did you see that?!" Stiles exclaims as the crowd starts screaming. I frown as the coach, a crazy haired dude, starts shouting at the team to pass to him.

"That's not right," I say softly, my stomach dropping. "Mijo, reel it in." Does he listen? No. He growls at a player from the other team until the kid literally threw him the ball. The coach drops into the bench on the other side of Stiles.

"Did the other team pass McCall the ball?" he asks in disbelief. Stiles chews on his glove.

"Looks like it, Coach."

"Interesting." He stands, glancing over at me and doing a double take when he notices the lack of jersey. "Who are you?"

"School newspaper," I say flatly, not looking up at him. "Stiles is helping with the jargo-Oh my god, Scott, really?!" I exclaim as the kid literally tears another player's net thing with his ball to get it to the goal. Stiles jumps up, cheering with everyone else, then rushing off to help the coach convince the ref the shot counted. I shake my head.

"Are you really with the school newspaper?" There's a boy in lacrosse gear standing a little away from the bench I sit at. He's standing slouched, tucked into himself as he holds his net stick close. He ducks his head a bit when I look up at him, like he didn't mean to say it out loud and is waiting to be called out on it. He's a cute kid, and has kicked puppy eyes to rival Scott's. But there's something about him, something I can't quite put my finger on. Something familiar about the way he holds himself. I find myself answering truthfully despite myself.

"Nah," I tell him, and he relaxes. "I'm Scott's cousin, and I wanted to sit down here with Stiles."

He nods, smiling a bit, only to start when the coach barks out, "Lahey! Stop flirting with the press and take Greenburg's place!" The boy, Lahey, nods, and glances back at me.

I give a shooing motion, and catching sight of his number, call out, "Good luck, 14!" He runs off, and is lost in the game.

The teams line up again. As soon as they start, someone throws the ball to Scott and he takes off, only to come to a stop a few yards away from the goal.

"Something's not right," I insist, grabbing Stiles' arm when he comes back to sit. "He's wolfin' out, man, mira!" Seconds tick by, the air heavy and tense as he looks between the players surrounding him. Two charge at him, and that's when he makes his move, throwing the ball into the goal. Stiles jumps up, arm ripped from my grip. The stands go crazy, screaming and clapping and cheering. I keep my sights on Scott, narrowing my eyes as he pulls off his glove and stares down at his hand.

"Oh shit." He runs off the field. "Shitshitshit!" I jump up and run after him, ignoring Stiles protests and shoving past the crowds as the fall into the field. "Scott, Scotty!" I shout after him. "Dammit, Scott," I mutter as he disappears from the lights. I follow, only to stop when a hand grabs my arm.

"Are you crazy?" Stiles demands, panting and holding his side. Which, wow, I didn't realize how out of shape the kid is. I'm totally gonna start making him come run with me in the morning.

"Stiles!" I try to tug my arm from his grip, but he just grabs with his other hand, his face set.

"Ares, if he's wolfing out, he can hurt you!" he says harshly, then ducks his head and looks around to make sure no one heard him. They didn't; everyone's too busy celebrating the victory. "I know you have all this faith in him, but…" he trails off, his expression conflicted. "If he went after me, who's to say he won't go after you?"

I look at him, then to where Scott disappeared. A figure disappears into what I can only guess is the locker rooms. "Who the fuck…?"

"I think that was Allison," Stiles says, his voice tight in fear. "Shit. Shiiiit, she's gonna die." My hand falls to my pocket, where my pepper spray is and pull it out. Stiles stares at it in shock. "Are you serious?!"

"Shut up and come on," I snap, hating what I'm considering doing. But if Derek said about pain bringing Scott back down to human, then, it's worth a try. When we get to the locker rooms, Stiles has a tight hold of my hand. We pause at the door, exchanging looks at the lack of screams that would come with someone getting ripped apart. Stiles shrugs, his grip on my hand loosening as he reaches out and flips on the light.

"Scott?" he calls out, leading the way into the room. It smells like sweat and teenage testosterone. Makes my nose hurt. He pokes his head around the corner of lockers and lets out a loud sigh of relief. "There you are!" He turns to face me. "Found them, Ares."

I all but push past Stiles to get a look for myself. Standing together, hands intertwined and faces flushed, are Scott and the pretty - really pretty, actually, no wonder Scott is so in love with her - brunette girl.

"Mijo!"

The joy of not walking in to find my cousin standing over a dead girl outweighs the anger of him wolfing out during the game.

"Er, guys," Scott greets awkwardly, glancing between the girl and Stiles and me. "What're you doing?"

"We thought you were dying," Stiles says quickly, and it doesn't escape my notice how his eyes flicker to the girl when he says that.

"You know, because sometimes you stop breathing," I add. The girl's eyes go wide in surprise and she looks at Scott, face warped in concern.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, first to us, then turning to the girl. "Allison, I'm fine."

"Obviously, if you're sucking face," Stiles mutters too quietly for Allison to hear. I snort, shaking my head and thumping his arm.

"Be nice." I turn to face the girl, Allison. "So you're Allison! I'm Ares," I say, introducing myself, because she's been looking at me in confusion when she isn't looking at Scott like he's the most adorable nerd this side of the globe.

"Ares…?" Her eyes light up with recognition. "You're Scott's cousin!" I nod once, glancing over at Scott, who apparently talks about me to girlfriend. He ducks his head in embarrassment. Feeling the love, little cousin. "You should come out with us!" she invites cheerfully. "We're all going out to eat, right?" She looks to Scott and Stiles for confirmation.

"Yeah, Ares, come," Stiles says, then leans in, grabbing my arm again. "Suffer with me," he pleads.

"Sorry, honey bunch," I say dryly, patting his cheek. "Suffer alone like the rest of us." I motion to the door. "We gonna get out of here before Allison and I start growing beards from the toxic levels of testosterone in here?"

Allison smiles and shit. Yeah, I can see why Scott in love with the girl. "Are you sure you don't want to come along?" she asks, following me out the room, towing Scott behind her by his hand. "We've more than enough room in my Dad's SUV."

Right. Her dad. The guy actively trying to kill my cousin.

"Yeah, Ares, you sure you don't wanna come?" Stiles asks. I make a face at him and flick his nose. He squawks, slapping my hand away and rubbing his nose. "Rude!"

I laugh, turn to answer Allison. "Nah, it's cool. You guys won't want me around anyway. I can't even get you alcohol." I sigh sadly. "It's horrible."

"You don't even drink," Scott accuses. I shrug.

"Not anymore." I pause my the door, notice the SUV in front of the small building.

"That's my dad," Allison explains. "I asked him to meet us here." She turns to Stiles. "You wanna ride with us? At least to your jeep," she says quickly when he hesitates.

He glances over at me. "You sure you-"

"Stiles. Go. I want to sleep."

He sighs, then motions to the truck. "Let's go then. Traitor," he grumbles at me. I roll my eyes as Scott frowns.

"You gonna be okay walking to the car?"

"Mijo." I pull my pepper spray from my pocket. "I'll live. Go have fun, nerds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Stiles gives a flat look. "So sex." I shoot finger pistols at him. He looks over at a blushing Scott and Allison. "Actually, I would also appreciate it if you didn't do that right now."

The trio say their goodbyes as they clamber into the car, and the man in the driver's seat of the truck nods in my direction before pulling out.

The stands are very much empty by the time I get to them and shit. Please don't let Melissa have left me. I pull my phone out, revealing a text from her.

Auntie Dearest (1 new message)

Where are you? I'm waiting in the car.
(AD)
Went to check on Scotty. His girl invited me to go eat with them. She's cute.
(A)

I send off the text, planning on sending another asking her to wait on me as I walk past the concession stand.

A hand grabs my arm and yanks me to the side, pushing me against the shadowed wall of the stand. My phone slips from my hand when I open it to push the person away as I bring up my spray, but a hand wraps around both my wrists, stopping my actions. The stream of obscenities I had planned on unleashing on this fucker die off before I have a chance of letting them out when the person leans in, revealing his face.

"We need to talk," he growls.

"Derek?" I stare up at him in shock, unable to do anything else before I realize what him being here would mean. I close my eyes, my head falling back and to the side as I let out a tired sigh. "They fucked up, didn't they?"

"You think?" His eyes flash and shit, he's livid.

"Well you didn't exactly paint yourself as the most innocent person!" I snap, yanking my wrists from his hands. "You can't have dead person on your property and not have people think you did it, burro cabezon!" I shove him back, though I think the only reason he moves is because he allows it. "God, what the hell were you thinking?! Scott already thought you were a serial killer! You just fueled the flames, stupid!" I reach down and snatch my phone from the ground and stuff my pepper spray in my pocket. "God, why is it that I'm the only one around here who seems to have any common sense?"

"You have common sense?!" he demands. "You were about to follow Scott into a dark locker room when he was out of control! How stupid can you be? He could have killed you!"

"Oh my god!" I groan in frustration. "No wonder they had you thrown in jail!" He glares down at me. Whatever. "Derek, you can't expect him to trust you if you don't trust him." He opens his mouth to say something. "And yes, you do need him to trust you, or this won't be worth shit."

Before he can argue, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Auntie Dearest (1 new message)

Make sure Scott gets home at a reasonable hour. I have work early tomorrow, so try not to make a lot of noise coming home.

I close my eyes and lean back into the wall. "Are you kidding me?" I run a hand through my hair before letting my arm drop to my side. "Well Melissa just left me here."

Derek huffs, stepping back and turning to leave. "Get a ride from Stiles then," he snarls over his shoulder.

"Fuck you," I snap back. He doesn't acknowledge the comment. "Stiles already left, asshole." He stills, glances back with narrowed eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, everyone already left." I gesture with a hand to the empty field. "Congratulations, bro, I have to walk home now."

Derek's shoulders fall, the fight gone out of him. "Don't be stupid, Ares." He turns to face me. "Come on." He pulls his keys out of his pocket. I glare at him.

"I'd rather walk."

"Ares." He seems sincere if not annoyed. Best mood all night, actually. Fuck it, here goes nothing.

"Why'd you bury her?"

He reels back, his hand falling to his side. "What?"

"The girl. Why…" I take a breath. "Why did you bury her?"

He doesn't look at me. Stares at the ground like it's the most interesting thing in the world. When he finally speaks, it's quiet. "Laura's…"

"Laura?"

"The girl in the woods was Laura Hale," he says tightly. "She went missing back home. When I came to find her…" he trailed off, and for the first time since I've met him, his near constant annoyed, hard to read expression breaks down, and there's Derek Hale, the person. Someone in mourning. Someone human.

The air rushes out of my lungs when I realize what this means. "Ay Dios mio." Derek doesn't react, doesn't look up, doesn't speak. I can't blame him, can't imagine... "Derek…"

My idiot cousin and his equally stupid best friend just dug up Derek's sister.

He doesn't acknowledge me when I take a step forward, so I decide fuck it. Here's to hoping he doesn't punch me. He tenses when I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him.

"Ares. What are you doing?" he demands roughly, but doesn't push me away, so points.

"Your life sucks, and Baymax says hugs help," I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I've been told I give bomb hugs for being a delinquent."

He snorts, relaxing. "You're not a delinquent."

I pull away, keeping my hands on his shoulders. "That depends entirely on who you ask. My dad's wife would tell you I crawled out of hell just to ruin her life." His brows shoot up and whoops, that might be TMI. "But she's a bitch, and I'm coming to accept that her opinion doesn't matter."

He frowns. "You're not that bad," he says under his breath. I might hug him again.

"You've known me all of a week and a half. Don't make up your mind yet." I drop my hands and gesture forward. "Lead the way, Fangface." He rolls his eyes, but turns to the parking lot.

"Is that going to be a thing? Werewolf names?"

"There's literally no way you can stop me."

"I can rip out your lungs," he says lightly, a tone I didn't realize he was capable of. Especially after what he just told me about his sister. Maybe he's one of those gallows humor kinda guys, which, yeah, I can relate.

"Do I have to mention what I can cut off with a rusty butter knife?" I ask. He looks down at me, brows to his hairline. I smile brightly up at him and he looks away, shaking his head, but I catch how his lips lift at the edges.

Derek's Camaro is the only car left in the lot. It sits on its little lonesome at the very back. At least he had the brains to not park under the only flickering lamp, which seems to stay dark more than light.

"This place is creepy as shit at night," I mutter, shaking my sleeves over my hands and glancing around the lot suspiciously. "Very B-horror movie."

"And you wanted to walk," Derek says dryly as we near the car. I look back at the flickering lamp as it lights go dark, a large shadow jumping into the darkness.

"Derek." I grab his arm, pull him back. He opens his mouth to argue, but I nod at the light, not letting go of his arm. He frowns down at me, but looks to the lamp as it flickers too fast to get a good look at the thing in hanging out under. I narrow my eyes at it. "Dude, the fuck is that?" The figure moves, and this time the light stays on just long enough for me to make out the clear canine silhouette. "Is that a dog?"

Derek grabs my wrist, hard, and steps back, pulling me with him. "That's not a dog," he breathes. I look up at him, then at the not-dog. The lamp lights up, and stays lit up.

"Dios mio."

I clutch at Derek's arm as he backs away, slowly. The thing-because it can only be a thing-lowers itself, crouches, its red eyes flashing like hellfire. Derek's got a bruising grip on my wrist with one hand and his keys in the other.

It stands. Slowly lifting itself on its back two feet. It towers, stands almost halfway up the lamp. It stands absolutely still for a second. Only a second before it drops back down on all fours. And fuckin' charges.

Derek grabs my shoulder and whirls me around to face the car. "Run!" He keeps a grip on my wrist, pulling me after him. Behind us, the creature snarls and snaps. Derek holds up his keys, unlocking it once we're close enough. Instead of letting me get in from the passenger side, he pulls me after him to the driver side, throwing the door open and all but shoving me in.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon!" I shout at him as he jumps in after me and slams the door, throwing the locks.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he growls, sticking the keys in the ignition and twisting. The engine roars to life and he throws the car in gear before stomping on the gas. The thing leaps at the car and just barely misses it. I twist in my seat to look out the rear window. I immediately regret it.

"It's coming!" I slap Derek's arm as he gets the car out of the parking lot and into the deserted street. "Hurry!"

"I'm going!" he shouts, glancing up at the rearview then down at me. "Put on your seatbelt," he snaps. I gape up at him.

"The Beast of Bray Road is chasing us down and you're worried about my seatbelt?!" I demand, then looking back again. It's farther away now, slowing, as if giving up. "I think it's stopping."

"Let's not assume," Derek grounds out and speeds up. "Ares, put on your seatbelt."

This time I don't argue. "Dude, the fuck was that?" Unable to stop myself, I look back again. The creature, the mutant dog/hell hound/beast from the abyss stands in the center of the road, burning eyes glaring after us. It throws back its head and lets out a long howl. I sink into my seat and glance up at Derek. He tightens his grip on the wheel, and even in the dark I can see his knuckles go white. His eyes flash blue, and he lets out a low growl. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, and when he opens them again, he's gone back to normal. "Derek, what was that?"

He glares ahead. "The Alpha. Scott's Alpha."

"Alph… That thing bit Scott?!" I look up at him. "I thought you said it was gone!"

"It was!" he growls, then takes a breath. "It was."

I lean my head back against the rest and try to calm my pounding heart. "Everything is gonna go to hell now, isn't it?"

He doesn't offer an answer. It does very little to make me feel any better.

The Alpha returns! Leave a review and leave your thoughts, criticisms, and/or your favorite favorite song, because I can only listen to the same three playlists so many times. Newcomers, if you liked the story, be sure to favorite/follow! That's always great. (There isn't an emoji thing for the hand heart thing, but I'm making the hand heart thing at everyone because you're all the best and I appreciate you)