The Turtle won't move, and this is a problem.
I inhale deeply through my nose and hold it for a second before releasing it, and maybe at this point, I should look up a yoga class to learn the proper way to take calming breaths. It does little to make me feel better, because when I try to turn the key to start the engine, it only cranks and cranks and never catches and-
"Hija de tu puta madre, why aren't you working?!"
The day had started off so well. Derek and I went for our run, and he had finally let me play the entire "Stronger than You" playlist, though not without some serious guilt tripping on my part. Deaton let me come back to work; that is to say, he didn't immediately kick me out when I showed up unannounced when I usually come in. When I left work, I even found myself thinking that things were finally, if only for a little bit, chilling the hell out after the nightmare that was Wednesday night. I mean, what better way can a Friday shape up?
But halfway home the Turtle started to shudder, to move sluggish and not want to accelerate - and for terrifying moment it hadn't wanted to move faster than the pace of its namesake across a particularly busy intersection and I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes before the Turtle finally finally jerked forward out of the way of a turning truck. After that, I came to the conclusion that this car needs to be out of the street, and managed to pull into the vacant lot of the abandoned business that seemed to have run out of money in the middle of construction. To say the least, it's super creepy and I want nothing more than to get the seven hells out.
Except the damn Turtle refuses to turn back on. Which is completely unacceptable.
How much do you know about vehicles that no longer wish to turn on?
(A)
I don't have to wait long for a reply, and I'm almost surprised by how quick he is to answer.
Stilinski the Elder (1 new message)
wats wrong w ur car
I groan, having forgotten his atrocious text writing. He's as bad as Scott.
It won't turn back on. It started acting weird and almost got me killed on Gore and Jefferson so I parked at that stupid old restaurant that was never finished and it won't turn on
Pls help I don't wanna stay here with the minimum wage serial killer out there
(A)
Sit tight kid omw
(SE)
I could cry, and not just because of his proper use of omw. Sitting back, I try to fight off the lump growing in my throat. It's irrational to start crying over something like this, but the Turtle has been with me since my quinceñera. Aaron and Alicia had promised that if I could come up with at least a third of the cost working at my Tio Julian's rancho the summer before, they would help with what was left. I did, and they kept their promise, and I learned how to drive in the Turtle. It took me to and from late night track meets and shenanigans with Warren and Sonya.
I love my Turtle, and it could not have chosen a worse time to crap out on me.
But I'm not willing to give up on it yet, and reach down to pull the lever to pop the hood before throwing open the door and hopping out. I don't know nearly enough about cars to justify my actions, but I figure it wouldn't hurt to see if there's anything obviously wrong. There isn't smoke coming out from under the hood, and I take that as a good sign.
As I unhook the latch to lift the hood, I notice an SUV pull into the lot, parking not far from where I'm stuck. It isn't Argent's red SUV, but a knot forms in my stomach all the same. It's a newer model - Sonya would know what it's actually called - and the windows are tinted as dark as is legal.
Beacon Hills isn't Laredo; there is absolutely no reason those windows need to be as dark as they are.
The driver's window lowers, and a woman calls out.
"You alright there, sweetie?"
The question is innocent enough, but it doesn't nothing to ease my worries. I nod, raising a hand in acknowledgement
"I'm fine, thank you. It's just acting up some," I say, and hope it's enough to get her to move on. It isn't. She frowns, and seems to think for a moment. It feels artificial, like when Elisa would act the saint around my Dad, and I would end up grounded for at least a week.
"Have you called someone already?"
"I called Sheriff Stilinski," I tell her, figuring it wouldn't hurt to namedrop. "He's on his way now."
She nods, and someone else might not have noticed the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. "Well," she says. "How about I stay with you until he gets here?"
If it had come from anyone else, I might have appreciated the gesture. But the idea of this woman with her fake concern makes my skin crawl in a way Elisa never did. "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to bother you-"
"Not at all," she says, and is already turning off her car and hopping out. "I have a niece about your age, and I would hate for her to have to wait on her own if something like this had happened." She smiles brightly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Were you going to try and see what was wrong?" she asks, coming beside me, and I have to make an effort not to step back.
She smiles like Elisa.
"Yeah, but I'm not sure I know enough to actually tell anything," I admit, not looking at her. I wonder if she notices how uncomfortable she's making me, or if she's just ignoring it. She pats my arm, and I go still.
"Well, how about you pop her open and I can give it a look," she offers. "My father made sure I knew my way around the under of a car growing up." It isn't a request, and I know better than to not do as she asks. I step back once it's open, and she leans forward. An rather intrusive thought that sounds suspiciously like Aaron prompts me to slam the hood down while she's under and make a run for it, but I'm not interested in the consequences if that fails, and only just stop myself from reaching out for the hood.
"You know, you look familiar," she says, not looking up. I'm not entirely sure what to say to this, because I feel like I would have remembered this lady if I had ever seen her before, even if it was just on a run to the grocery store.
"Oh?" is my oh so brilliant response.
She straightens, and I am 100 percent not okay with the way she looks me over, because seriously, bad touch vibes. "You don't happen to be related to Scott McCall, do you?"
Why the fuck does this Bad Touch know my baby cousin? I draw back defensively, shifting my weight almost without thought, and realize I left my keys in the car. Left my pepper spray in the car. My freaking luck.
"How do you know Scott?" I demand, not bothering to play polite anymore. Her eyes go wide, and something like excitement - my stomach twists at the sight of it - crosses her expression before it adopts a more placating mask.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," she says, straightening and raising a hand out to me. "My niece Allison is dating him."
Oh. Oh fuck.
"I'm Kate Argent."
Fuck.
"Oh."
She tilts her head curiously, and I wish more than anything that I had taken the chance to decapitate her when I could have. Murderous bitch. Her hand is still extended, and I stare at it for a moment too long before forcing myself to take it in my own. Her shake is tighter than necessary, and I pull away as soon as I can, shaking my sleeves over my hands to hide the tremblings.
"I'm Scott's cousin," I tell her, and I hate how my voice comes out strained. If she notices, she doesn't mention it, but amusement dances in her eyes.
"Ares, was it?" I give a single nod and she smiles. It does nothing to brighten her face. "I've heard a lot about you from Allison." She goes back to inspecting the Turtle's insides, and I clasp my hands together, digging my thumb nail into my palm to keep me from doing something stupid.
"Good things?" I look around desperately, hoping to see the Sheriff on the street. No such luck.
"Oh, absolutely," she assures. "She mentioned how you went to go look for Scott Wednesday night." She looks up at me. "That was very brave of you."
"I didn't know anything was wrong until the cops got there."
"Oh, honey, don't sell yourself short." She pauses, seems to collect her thoughts. "She mentioned how you had Derek Hale with you."
My nail all but cuts into my palm.
She looks up at me and grins. It's absolutely lewd, and I scrape the inside of my hand while keeping my expression carefully blank. There aren't any cameras in this corner of the lot. I could still decapitate her. No one would know. "You know. Tall, dark hair, broody? Absolutely stunning physique-"
She stops short and straightens, looking over my shoulder, and thus her life is spared. I look back as a blessedly familiar cruiser pulls into the lot, parking close by. Sheriff Stilinski jumps out, and it's all I can do to not go running to him. He regards Kate Argent coolly as he walks up, and doesn't seem to fall for her disarming smile. It makes me feel a shit ton better, honestly.
"Ares, you alright, kid?"
I nod, stepping closer to him when he comes to a stop next to us in front of the Turtle. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how she slips something into her pocket.
"Fine." He arches a brow at the short response, but before he can question it, I go on. "Ms. Argent stopped to help and wait with me."
"Please, call me Kate." Her voice is slick and I swear I've heard the same exact tone from Elliot and BAD TOUCH VIBES.
"Kate," he says, drawing her attention away from me. "Thank you for staying with Ares."
"Oh course. I better be on my way now," she says, and turns to me. "It was nice meeting you, Ares."
"You too."
She couldn't leave quick enough, and the Sheriff notices the way I let out a relieved breath once she's finally gone.
"Ares-"
"I'm good," I assure him, and he frowns. "I am, I promise." I take a breath to gather myself. "She kinda intense?"
He allows it. "So is her brother." He gestures to the Turtle. "So what's going on here?" he asks, looking under the hood as Kate had. I huff, crossing my arms and glaring at the Turtle in betrayal.
"It was being all stupid. It didn't want to accelerate, and when I turned it off, it didn't want to turn back on."
He hums in acknowledgement, and tweaks something by the battery. "It doesn't look like there's anything wrong with it, kiddo. Have you checked the oil?"
"At least every two weeks. It's not that."
"Does it have gas?"
I narrow my eyes at him, and he takes it for the answer that it is. "Alright, alright. Try it again." I throw my head back in frustration. Did he not just hear me? "Ares, just try it," he says, his voice laced with parental authority.
I drop my arms and go to the driver's side. The Sheriff stepped back and gave me a thumbs up. "It's not gonna work," I mutter, turning the key. It comes to life as if it had never been messed up. "What the fuck?!" I exclaim, shaking the wheel. "What the hell, why didn't you work earlier?!"
Sheriff Stilinski drops the hood and comes around to my side. "It looks like it's working just fine."
"It almost killed me at the intersection!" I tell him, throwing my arm out toward the road, and he has to jump back to avoid getting smacked in the face. "It wouldn't turn on for shit!"
He sighs. "Head on home. I'll follow and make sure you don't get stranded again."
I throw up my hands. "That's it?"
"I'll have someone look at-"
"I can't afford a mechanic, I'm saving up my money for summer classes," I tell him, and he levels me with an I wasn't done look.
"He owes me a favor. I'll ask him to look at it for you, alright?"
I can't help but grin at him, feeling better for the first time since my damn car started being stupid. "A favor? How scandalous, Sheriff-"
He slams the door in my face, and he's lucky I was in my seat all the way. "Straight home," he says through the window, and heads back to the cruiser.
"Rude old man," I mutter, but put the Turtle in drive, and it moves as it had before it went insane.
Melissa's home when the Sheriff and I get there, and Stiles is over, if the Jeep is anything to go off of. He's a horrible human, though, and had parked in the driveway next to Melissa's car, and thus I am banished to park in the road like a peasant.
"You needa tell your offspring to not take my spot," I tell Stilinski as we walk to the porch. He rolls his eyes.
"Kid, I would if I knew it would work."
I snort, knowing he was absolutely right, and threw open the front door. "Children!" I call out, dropping my keys on the hook by the door. The TV is on in the living room, and by the sounds of it, the boys are playing some video game. "I have returned!"
"No one cares!" Stiles shouts, and I let out a scandalized gasp.
"Stiles!" his father chastises as he walks into the living room after me, and Stiles looks up with wide eyes.
"Daddio!" he exclaims in surprise. "What're you doing here?" Sheriff Stilinski scowls, and Scott takes advantage of Stiles' distraction to kill his character. "Dude!"
"I need to talk to Melissa," Stilinski says. "She's home right?"
Scott pauses the game before Stiles can respawn and looks up at Sheriff Stilinski. "She's in the kitchen," he tells him. He glances between me and Stilinski, frowning. "Is everything okay?"
I wave a hand at him. "I'm being arrested. I'll see you in twenty years."
Scott looks like he wants to say something, but frankly I'm not in the mood, and follow the Sheriff out of the room into the kitchen, where Melissa is sitting at the table, playing some game on her phone while she keeps an eye on whatever she has on the stove. She looks up and blinks in surprise at the sight of the Sheriff.
"Sheriff," she greets, voice laced with confusion. "What's up?"
"My car was sabotaged," I tell her, pulling a chair out and dropping in it. "It died and I had to call him to come save me." I slouch as low as is decent and cross my arms. "Allison Argent's creepy aunt stopped to help."
Melissa stares at me for a second before looking up at the Sheriff. He sighs. "Her car wouldn't start, but it's working fine now. I'm going to have Landon from the impound lot come over and give it a look." He pauses, and I can tell by the look on his face that I am not going to like what he says next. "I don't think you should drive it around until he gives the okay, and when I called him, he said the soonest he can look at it is Sunday afternoon."
My jaw drops. "What, dude, no! What am I supposed to do over the weekend?"
Melissa arches a brow at me. "It's not like you go out during the weekend anyway."
"It's the principle of the matter!" I drop my head back and groan. "Turtle, why have you done me wrong like this?"
"If you need to get somewhere this weekend, you can call Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski offers, and I open an eye to look up at him, my interest piqued. "I don't want you driving the thing if it's being finicky, kid. Stiles can sacrifice some time to act as your chauffeur if you need to do anything."
I grin, straightening. "Really?" This is good. I can work with this. Make him make up for all the times he was a horrible little shit and gave me some serious stress.
Melissa chooses that moment to ruin my dreams. "Not tonight though," she says and both the sheriff and I look up at her confusion. She looks at us expectantly, and I try to recall what's going on tonight that I've been denied this wonderful gift. "The boys have a game!" she says, exasperated. "An away game against Hill Valley; they're leaving at five." She shakes her head.
"Ohh…"
Right. Because lacrosse is still something the boys do. The Sheriff sighs and pats my drooped shoulder. "After that, then," he remedies. It does very little to make me feel better.
"Wait, they're still having a game? Even after what happened Wednesday?" I frown at the thought. "That's kinda messed up."
"I heard they're going to donate some of the proceeds from the game to the janitor's family," Melissa says, shrugging. And, well, I guess that kinda makes it better? "They were going to cancel it, but the coach didn't want them behind in the race for State." She says it with such contempt, I love it.
The Sheriff leaves after extracting a promise from me that I would not be driving the Turtle other than moving it into the driveway when Stiles finally leaves, whenever that might be. I trudge back to the living room, and Stiles glares at me as I drop into the love seat.
"I'm not driving you around this weekend," he snaps. I don't bother to answer him, instead laying down so that my legs hang over the end of the seat and my head is pillowed by the armrest. "What the hell is wrong with your car anyway?"
I throw my arm over my eyes and let my mind wander to what had happened. The Turtle had been completely fine this morning, and had only went to shit on the ride home. Only after Kate Argent had poked under the hood did it revive itself-
"Fucking Kate Argent sabotaged my car." I drop my arm and stare up at the ceiling. "That crazy bitch did something to my car." I look to Scott, and he frowns.
"Allison's aunt?"
"She knew who I was." I scrub at my face, at a loss of what to do. "She said Allison told her about me."
"Maybe she was just being helpful?" Stiles offers, though it sounds like he grasping at straws, and the uneasy look on Scott's face is hard to miss.
"She knows I hang out with Derek," I say. "That I brought Derek with me on Wednesday night."
A beat of silence.
"Didn't she shoot Derek?" Stiles asks hesitantly, and it's immediately followed by a cry of pain as Scott punches him. "I'm just saying!" He shakes his head. "Jesus, Ares, what if she thinks you're, like-" he drops his voice to just above a whisper- "a werewolf too?"
"That's stupid," Scott snaps. "Ares is, like, the farthest-"
"Kate knows what Derek is," Stiles interrupts. "She and Allison's dad probably know that it was the Alpha that trapped us in the school, and that Ares and Derek were both there when they really had no business being there." He gestures wildly, and the controller in his hand almost hits Scott in the face. "I'd be surprised if they didn't think Ares was like Derek, dude."
I groan, covering my face with my hands. Stiles, the idiot that he is, goes on.
"So, not only do you now have the Argent's probably trying to kill you, the Alpha also has some super grudge against you." I look up at him sharply, and Scott punches him again. "OW! Dude, what?! You said-"
"I didn't want you to actually tell her!" he snaps back.
"Tell me what?" I demand. They look at each other, and I swear there's some sort of telepathy going on. "Tell me what?" I repeat, and Scott caves. He huffs, rubbing the back of his neck.
"The alpha wanted everyone dead because they're, like, my pack, or whatever." He shakes his head. "It wanted you dead because you're already my alpha. You're competition."
"The fuck I'm not," I exclaim, sitting halfway up. "I'm not your alpha, what the hell?!"
Stiles tilts his head to the side and pulls a face. "You kinda are."
"I'm kinda not."
He goes on as if I didn't speak. "You're always telling us what to do. You're the one that keeps Scott and Derek from killing each other, and you're like, the only one we listen to." He pauses. "Congratulations, Ares Delgado. You got yourself on a werewolf's shit list by being a mom-friend."
Are you kidding me.
I drop back on the couch and whimper, covering my face. Why. WHY. What have I done to deserve this? I'm a good person, for the most part. Like, sure, there was that thing with Elliot, but he had it coming. And the thing with Elisa was 100 percent justifiable.
I do not deserve this.
Scott, the closer of the two, leans over and pats my forehead in condolence.
So that was Ares meeting Kate. Less violent that she would have liked, but that's how things gotta be.
I just want to say, the reviews you guys have left have been so freaking sweet and great and I just love y'all so much. Like, I read them and squeal and will immediately try to pump out as much writing as I can. Which is why I have like the next two chapters finished and I want nothing more than to share them with you, but I have to restrain myself until editing can happen.
A shout out to the new followers/favorites, and of course, those who have stuck out through my erratic posting schedule. Bless y'all for sticking through this with me.
This A/N is getting kinda long, but a couple more things to note. Remember that tumblr I mentioned a million years ago? Totally figured out how to work it now, and it's totally not empty anymore. I have more info on my profile, but know you can find it under thegalanerd, and it's got the same Batman Beyond avatar. The Pinterest is also still a thing, and I might have made a bunch of boards I had no business making and yet...
I also made a spotify just for galanerd, and you can see that information on my profile. Just know it has i swear im still ace from ch 17 and the playlist for Ares and Derek I write to.
Okay, because this is ridiculously long and I'm done self promoting - again, serious thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed/favorited. I appreciate it more than I can articulate. Have a good end to your weekend!