A/N: Special thanks to Monkeygonetoheaven and Marine76 for the reviews! Also, thank you to those that are now following me. Let me know what you think! I enjoy hearing your thoughts. :)
Cry Wolf: Chapter 2
written by: xVampyraxHavocx
"Get in here." The sheriff's son's deep voice instructed hoarsely. The McCall siblings reluctantly obliged, exchanging a disconcerted glance. A burdensome melodramatic tension consumed the atmosphere of the entire teenage boy's room; the shuffling of brittle textbook pages interrupted the overcoming dead air. Stiles' exceptional warm honey-brown irises scrutinizing the meticulously typed myth, dark eyebrows furrowed together in an earnest distress. "You gotta see this." The young man stated, closing the door behind his friends. "I've been up all night reading websites, books, and all this information."
"How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott inquired humorously, a handsome smirk creeping across his strong features. Bethany bit her supple bottom lip, suppressing a chuckle at the sheriff's son's expense.
"A lot, doesn't matter." Stiles' replied sarcastically, the shuffling of paper piercing the momentary silence. "Okay? Just listen." The young man spun around in a midnight leather desk chair, strong hands clutching a paper neatly printed with mythological art in a white-knuckled grasp.
"Is this about the body?" Scott inquired, the siblings taking a seat at the edge of Stiles' bed, gauging the young man's facial structure for some sort of clue as to his hysterical behavior. "Did they find out who did it?
"No, they're still questioning people, even Derek Hale." Stiles informed dismissively. Bethany's milk chocolate golden flecked irises eclipsed, memory of the handsome stranger clawing maliciously to the forefront of her thoughts. A bizarre fluttering churning within the depths of the young woman's athletic core.
"Ah, the guy in the woods we saw the other day." Scott replied, nodding in the accidental association with the hostile stranger from the depths of the abysmal Beacon Hills woods.
"Yeah, yes, but that's not it, okay." Stiles shouted, waving his strong hands in the air dismissively. The mythological art shuffling against the violent gesture.
"What then?" Bethany's melodious gentle-natured voice questioned delicately, dark eyebrows furrowing in a blurred bewilderment. Scott's best friend was behaving in a maelstrom ridden frenzy, warm dark honey-brown irises widened to massive proportions, broad shoulders hunched, strong hands clutching relentlessly to the printed paper within his tightening grasp.
"Remember the joke from the other day?" Stiles inquired, a strained laugh escaping his plush lips.
"Not a joke anymore." Scott's perplexed dark chocolate eyes took in the utter fright in his best friend's warm honey-brown irises, releasing a deep exhale before glancing over at his sister. Bethany was equally as relinquished as he. "The wolf, the bite in the woods."
"I started doing all of this reading. Do you even know why a wolf howls?" Stiles inquired, dark eyebrows knit together in an exasperated concern. Genuine apprehension brewing within the depths of the sheriff's son's warm honey-brown eyes, the bizarre situation threatening to consume the teenagers in a world of supernatural curses lingered on the sheets of paper within Stiles' iron tight grip.
"Should I?" Scott asked, bewildered tenebrous cappuccino irises gazing up at his best friend at a complete loss of words.
"It's a signal, okay. When a wolf's alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means there could have been others nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em."
"A whole pack of wolves?"
"No, werewolves." Stiles replied, an awkward tension consuming the bedroom at the sheriff's son's theory. Bethany released a heavy exhale, manicured fingers pinching the bridge of her perfectly crafted button nose. The tension thickened to sickening proportions, each youth contemplating the unrealistic conclusion. There's no way, Bethany's thoughts concluded hastily.
"Are you seriously wasting our time with this?" Scott spat harshly, standing from his seat beside his sister. Stiles' twin sized mattress shifting from the severe movement. "You know I am picking up Allison in an hour."
"I saw you on the field today, Scott, okay." The sheriff's son replied dismissively, strong hand reaching out to cease movement on his best friend's part. The young man's warm honey-brown irises became pleading, dark eyebrows knit together in a firm determination. Scott needed to hear this. "What you did wasn't just amazing, alright? It was impossible." The sheriff's son released an awkward chuckle, a negative habit that seemed to consume the socially inept teen as he acted in an impulsive manner to ease some of the overwhelming tension.
"Yeah, so I made a good shot." Scott replied dismissively, taking a step toward the bedroom door.
"No." Stiles stated sternly, standing in his friend's way in an attempt to force the conversation on a surreal path. In the teenager's mind, there were no other explanations for the gravity defying athletic promise that his friend had suddenly shown during try-outs. "You made an incredible shot! I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes, people can't just suddenly do that overnight; and there's the vision, and the senses and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."
"Okay!" Scott asserted, instantly putting a stop to his friend's incessant determination. "Dude, I can't think of this now. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?!" Stiles exclaimed. "What, no! The full moon's tonight. Don't you get it?"
"What're you trying to do? I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?"
"I am trying to help." Stiles replied, a smoldering hurt brewing within the depths of his warm honey-brow eyes. Bethany's milk chocolate gold flecked irises absorbed the escalating situation, she understood her baby brother's annoyance with his best friend's incessant meddling but Stiles genuinely believed the words coming out of his mouth. In reality, there could be no truth to what the sheriff's son's theory, she knew that, but it was abnormally harsh of Scott to completely disregard his friend altogether. There was no witty humor filled comebacks to the absurd statements, only harsh reality filled bitterness. "You're cursed, Scott. You know, and it's not just the moon that'll cause you to physically change. It also happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."
"Bloodlust." Scott repeated, the unmitigated animosity in the one word caused his sister to cringe. The behavior was so unlike the teenager, he was normally so patient with his best friend.
"Yeah, your urge to kill."
"I am already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles." Scott replied in a monotone passive aggressive manner. The calm before the storm, Bethany concluded almost immediately.
"You have to read this." Stiles stated, the shuffling of paperwork piercing the momentary silence as he grasp a tattered aged brown book with worn covers. "The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse, alright. I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date." Stiles stood from his seat, struggling with the zipper on Scott's backpack. "You have to call her right now."
"What're you doing?"
"I am canceling the date."
"No, give it to me!" Scott growled maliciously, shoving Stiles against the bedroom wall in a fit of rage. A startled gasp escaped Bethany, the teenager rushing to the younger boy's aid as her manicured fingers grasp her baby brother's sweatshirt in a white knuckled grasp. Scott released a guttural growl, swinging his muscular arm shaking his sister's grasp as he knocked the computer chair to the ground in a fit of rage.
"I-I am sorry." Scott apologized, guilt swarming the depths of his toned stomach at the fear and shock on both faces staring wide eyed at him. "I gotta go get ready for that party." He stammered, glancing between his sister and his friend. "I am sorry." He apologized again, dark eyebrows knit together in a silent plea for forgiveness before he left the bedroom without another word.
"Are you okay?" Bethany inquired, rushing over to sheriff's son in the blink of an eye. Bethany took Stiles' face within the palms of her dainty manicured hands, thumbs brushing nimbly over the supple flesh of the youth's cheeks. Stiles' strong hands grasp hers, renouncing the affectionate gesture of concern dismissively. Had the affectionate gesture taken place any other time, he would have welcomed the contact without a second thought. However, at the current moment, he felt betrayed. Scott, his best friend, not only refused his help but contemplated physically hurting him in the process. A disgruntled huff escaped his plush lips, the young man straightened up his desk chair in an aggressive fashion.
"I'll talk to him, okay?" Bethany released a sullen sigh. "Everything will be alright, St-" All rational thought completely dissipated as Stiles slowly turned the leather computer chair around, revealing three deep gashes along the fabric. Claw marks.