AN: Okay you guys. I have a crap ton of excuses as to why I haven't updated in like two weeks, but I'm sure ya'll don't care about them. So I am apologizing for this long delay. And have now realized that I can't keep deadlines unless I'm given grades. Oh my life. Anyways I have proofread this chapter three times before submitting it on here so there shouldn't be any big mistakes. Thanks to those that have followed and favorited this story. You guys are great. And to those that have reviewed you guys are great too. Saturday the chapter with the Murúch history will be up. If it isn't updated you are free to hurt/maim me.

Warnings~

No beta'd. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Disclaimer- I don't own Teen Wolf, but if I did I wouldn't be writting FF now would I?


Chapter 6: Panic at the Beach

After a game of tag, which Farren lost, the two boys crawled up onto the beach. Trevor's tail immediately shifted back into his land legs while Farren maneuvered so that only his fins were touching the water. Trevor sprinted across the sand snatching up his trunks and shaking them frantically to get rid of the sand that was probably in every crease. Farren tilted his head back and laughed, deep and throaty. Trevor looked at him in confusion.

"Werewolves and mermaids," Trevor made a face, "are real."

"It does sound pretty crazy." Trevor dried himself off with a towel in one hand and continued shaking out his shorts with the other.

Farren tried to move himself back into the water, the sand was not the most comfortable thing to sit on. He plopped back down on the sand after failing to get into a comfortable position.

"How do I go back to two feet?" Farren felt like a fish out of water both literally and metaphorically, he was new to this.

"Same way you made it appear- will." Trevor said over his shoulder as he slipped his trunks on after he felt that the majority of sand was gone.

Furrowing his brows in concentration, Farren could feel the shift. The numbness was back and he stared down in amazement as he watched his scales flatten and fuse together to become skin. It was disturbing to watch his tail morph back into legs. There was only a slight soreness to them as he got up. He stood carefully and made sure he had his balance before trying to walk. He hobbled over to where Trevor was standing. Trevor had his back to him and was searching through the cooler. He reached down to grab his shirt that he had discarded before their swim.

"The first full shift is the worst. I was sore for three days. Not just a muscle ache it was to the bone sore." Farren had zeroed in on 'full shift'.

'Full shift'- he thought – 'what?'

"The tail," Trevor said bringing Farren from his musings. His eyebrows scrunched together, he had said that aloud?

"Quite frankly I'm surprised you did it. Mainly because I thought you were a were' from healing so quickly. But before I delve into details. We should get you some pants," Trevor stated, his attention still on his search.

Flushing, Farren covered his privates with the shirt wrapping it around his hips. He glared at Trevor, who only laughed when he caught the pathetic excuse for a glare.

"Oh man. We have a ways to walk too!" Trevor broke out into a fit of laughter.

Farren's blush darkened creeping down his neck. He noticed his discarded towel by his feet and lunged to grab it. He quickly wrapped it around his waist, maneuvering to get the shirt from underneath the towel while trying to preserve what is left of his dignity. After successfully removing the shirt, he tucked a corner of the towel in to keep the towel from falling off. Farren pulled the lime green tee down over his still wet torso causing the shirt to stick to his skin. Trevor was laughing so hard because of Farren's ordeal that he had closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. Farren sighed running his hand through his hair making it spike up in random places. Farren ripped open the cooler and tossed a can of soda at Trevor when he finally calmed down enough that he stopped crying. Trevor caught it as Farren sat down on the beach.

The crack and fizz of opening the cans could be heard over the crashing of the waves against the shore. It was peaceful. Farren didn't want to ruin it by asking the questions that were flitting through his mind but the silence only contributed to his curiosity.

"So we're related?" he breathed out.

Trevor raised an eyebrow at his question. He swallowed the mouthful of soda before speaking, "Seems like it. Probably not too closely related considering it took an Alpha to awaken it and the scale color."

"Scale color?"

"Yeah. Each tribe have a specific scale color, but when we get back to my house my dad'll explain it further."

"Huh. You said Alpha. You mentioned that yesterday when you were explaining what happened to me."

"Alpha refers to the Alpha werewolf, the leader of a pack of werewolves. Contrary to popular belief, only an Alpha can turn humans. Either with a bite or in your case, if their claws go deep enough."

Farren leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. The soda can loosely grasped in his right hand. This brought more questions than answers.

'What did I do?' Farren hadn't thought much about his life before losing his memories besides the fact of how to get them back. Now, he was curious. How did he become entangled with werewolves? Had he instigated the werewolf or was it a random attack?

"Do you know the Pack that lives here?"

Trevor was quiet for a minute thinking how to phrase his answer. "I don't personally know them but I know of them. I was taught to identify other supernatural creatures since I was little but I'm no expert. We all aren't because we personally haven't met any other supernatural. There are certain ways a werewolf holds themselves that I can pinpoint." Farren hummed in response filtering through the various questions and he knew that he needed to know more.

"I want to know everything about Murúch."

Trevor must've figured out what he wanted and sighed.

"Fine. Let's head back to bug my dad."


On the way back to the house, Trevor was practically sprinting through the woods. The cooler swinging quickly. Every so often, he would stop letting Farren catch up, even then, he would be bouncing on his heels. Farren inwardly smiled at his antics.

'He's that happy that I'm a Murúch?' Farren stared at Trevor's retreating form jump over a log. Farren's brain then jumped to his family, the one that he had forgotten. He winced as the guilt gripped his heart. His hand tightened around the towel making sure that it did not slip on the trek back. Farren picked up his pace to reach Trevor who had stopped where the edge of the grass meets the sand.

"Why did you give me the name 'Farren'?" Farren asked when he reached Trevor. Trevor looked like Farren had kicked his puppy.

"W-well…" he cleared his throat, "it was my cousin's name before he died in combat." Farren was shocked. Why had he given him, a person he didn't even know, a name that means so much for him?

"Why? You didn't even know me?" Trevor looked down.

"Because of its meaning. It means wanderer in Old English, I think I told you that before. Anyways it's just a temporary name until you remember your old memories. Speaking of which anything new?" It was Farren's turn to look hurt.

"No. I don't remember anything besides the past two days. I don't understand how or why I was attacked." Farren's shoulders sagged.

"Don't worry. I think the Pack believes you to be dead." Farren winced. "That's a good thing. It means they won't come looking for you." Trevor reassured.

He started walking up the hill and Farren looked back over his shoulder once more to see the ocean. He smiled wistfully at the thought that he may have forgotten his old family but he also had a new one in Trevor and his family. He walked forward determined to regain his memories so he could introduce his old family with his new family. It was only a short walk up the hill and they would be back to Trevor's house. As they approached the front door, Trevor fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, watching Farren walk the rest of the way up the hill.

The walk back had made the bottom of the towel wet and sand encrusted. Farren was holding his new shoes in his left hand while his right was clasped to the towel.

"You are totally going to get a crash course on our history." Trevor shouted over his shoulder and sprinted to the front door. Farren sighed while trying to catch up to him without tripping over the towel and flashing people. He adjusted his grip on the towel and lengthened his strides making it easier to cover the distance. Farren was focusing on the ground as he ran so when he reached the porch and looked up he found that the front door was wide open. He glanced to the side and noticed the cooler abandoned by the steps.

'Must've forgot to close the door in his excitement.' Farren thought as he dropped his shoes off by the front door not wanting to bring sand into the house. 'Well not anymore,' Farren added as an afterthought as his eyes followed the visible trail on the wooden floor. Farren no sooner had stepped through the threshold than he was enveloped in a bear hug. He froze, shocked. Farren tilted his head to see who it was that was cutting off his oxygen supply. It was Trevor's dad.

"Uh…not that I don't appreciate...this hospitality but...I think it's bad...manners to choke your guest." Farren squeezed out. Mike stepped back, which gave Farren a view of both Trevor and Mike. The both of them were sporting grins that looked extremely painful.

"Sit down. It's a long story and I'm sure you have many questions." Trevor's father announced motioning towards the couch. Farren sat on the edge of the couch resting an elbow on the armrest. Trevor sat on the stools by the bar. Make sat down on the other end of the couch. He turned to face Farren.

"Let's start with the beginning."


Scott woke up to no new messages from Stiles. It had been three days since he had last heard from the boy who usually answers right away. At first, he was only slightly worried figuring Stiles just needed time to be alone, but that was replaced with panic when Stiles didn't respond to the text Scott sent last night before bed. Scott took a shower contemplating what to do. After exiting the shower and clothing himself, he sent another text to his pack with the simple message:

'We're going to the beach.'

Dropping the towel into the dirty clothes hamper, Scott grabbed the duffel that he kept under his bed and placed it on his bed. He began to stuff the duffel bag with clothes, towels, money, and cell charger. The first to arrive was Malia. She pounced when Scott opened the door.

"Is he okay?" concern filled her voice. She dropped her bag near the front door.

"I don't know. He's not responding to my messages." Scott closed the door and led her through the kitchen to the living room. His phone beeped. He jumped at the noise and scrambled to get it out of his pocket. His hope was crushed when he saw that is was Kira. She said that she couldn't come because her family was going to spend the day together and get ready for the upcoming holiday. He deflated and drooped onto the couch. Malia paced the front room. Lydia arrived 30 minutes later. She had a bag slung over her shoulder that was bulging. Malia closed the door as Lydia stalked into the house. Cocking an eyebrow at her as she entered the living room, Scott shifted his position so he was sitting upright on the couch.

"Did you tell the Sheriff?" Lydia asked after dropping her bag on the floor and her rear on the couch.

"Actually, Malia and I were discussing how to tell him. I don't want him to freak out if this is nothing. Especially with my father still in town." Scott sighed, leaning on the armrest.

"I suggested to him because he deserves to know if his only"- Malia stressed- "child is in danger." She turned to Scott and glared. This began a staring contest between the two. Lydia stood and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"How about we say we are going to the beach to surprise Stiles?" Her voice was sickly sweet causing the two supernaturals to look away from each other to her.

"We could use the little vacation." Malia mumbled as she flushed.

"And not alert his father too much."

Scott closed his eyes and got up from the couch. Lydia hummed in content.

"Oh. I brought a bathing suit for you, Malia," Lydia motioned to the bag. Malia's eyes darted to the designer beach bag and widened. Scott could smell the panic rolling off her.

"Malia. What's wrong?" His voice was tender. Panic was replaced with embarrassment.

"Uh…I can't swim that well in this body," She squeaked out.

"All the more reason to go." Lydia smirked.

"Before we go to the Stilinski House, whose car are we taking?" Scott turned to her confused. "Mine right." She whispered sarcastically.

She turned to pick up the bag and started walking towards the door. Her heels clicking on the wood floor. She stopped short of the door and her voice filled the void.

"Are you coming, Scott?"

He slung his duffel onto his shoulder. Lydia opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Malia was right behind her only stopping to scoop up her bag that she set down earlier. Scott locked the front door and sent a text to his mom: 'Going to the beach to hang with Stiles. Be back in a day or so.' Lydia had started the car with Malia stretching out in the back by the time he reached the car. He slipped into the passenger seat closing the door behind him. Lydia was already backing up when he clicked the seatbelt in place. The ride was short because the McCall house was only a few miles from the Stilinski residence. Pulling up they saw the cruiser in the front of the garage.

They climbed out of the car and knocked on the door and Scott could hear the Sheriff's footsteps nearing the door. The Sheriff was dressed in plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. He looked like he just woke up. He probably had because Scott couldn't smell the coffee scent that was ever present in the house when either Stilinski was awake. The drowsiness left his being at seeing the teens.

"What happened?" He inquired while opening the door wider. Scott could see the worry working its way onto the older male's features.

"Nothing." Scott said to stop his thoughts.

"We thought we could use a little vacation ourselves and to surprise Stiles." Lydia spoke up. "We were wondering if we could have the information that you had so we don't have to inform Stiles and ruin the surprise."

A smile broke out on his face causing the wrinkles on his face to become prominent. The sheriff invited them inside so he could find the papers he gave Stiles days before.

"I know him. He's probably fishing of a pier or boat." The Sheriff said tilting his head to the right as he walked into the house. He riffled through the drawers in the kitchen until he found a notepad. He grabbed a pen from the same drawer before shutting it with his hip. He jotted down the name of Stiles hotel and its address.

"Have fun. You lot sure could use it." The Sheriff said ripping the noted off and handing it over to Scott. He passed it to Lydia who began to pull up the GPS on her phone to type the hotel's address.

"Thank you." Malia spoke from her position against the counter. Lydia had the directions up. The teens walked towards the door.

"No problem." The Sheriff yawned behind them. When they all were outside and walking down the steps the man waved before shutting the door. The teens waved back at the Sheriff on the way to the vehicle.

"So where are we going?" Malia asked when they were in the vehicle.

"The Red Roof Inn." Lydia said before starting the car.

Scott let out a breathy laugh at his best friend's humor. The drive was going to be approximately three hours. The radio switched to the new Taylor Swift song. Scott groaned and rested his head against the window when Lydia turned the volume up.

'This is going to be long ride,' Scott thought trying to block out the werecoyote's singing in the back to the song.


AN: Thanks for reading. Sorry again. If you have any questions PM or review, I promise I will respond. I also apologize to any Taylor Swift fans and I don't own her stuff either.

Until Saturday the 8th! Bluetears out~