Chapter 18: A Not-So-Boring Lacrosse Game

It had been about a week since we ended the dead pool. I was happy, mostly. I mean, life was pretty normal, save for the gnawing feeling in my gut whenever I thought about Kate and the berserkers. Or whenever I thought about Ginny, still yet to leave the hospital due to incredible head trauma.

She woke up from the coma about three days after Stiles and I drove up to the lake house. I was in class when I got the text on my new phone from Melissa. I practically sprinted out of economics, Coach Finstock belligerently screaming at me to come back. Stiles tried to follow suit, but I made him stay behind so that Coach wouldn't have an aneurism with the lack of order in his classroom.

I about cried when I saw her in the hospital bed. It was majorly due to the fact that Ginny, the only person I had left in the world that resembled any sort of a family, was awake and recovering. There were certain things she had trouble comprehending, and almost punched the nearby nurse on call until I sat down and explained what had happened to her.

Safely out of earshot of my newly conscious Guardian, Melissa explained the process of recovery. There were still fractures to the skull that required round-the-clock monitoring, and Ginny would, for the foreseeable future, be prone to fits.

"Fits?" I asked her, scrunching my eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, there really is no better word for it," She elaborated, "From what we've gathered, there are significant chunks of memory missing from her recent timeline. There are things she won't remember, and she won't remember why. It can lead to such levels of frustration that she won't know where to release it but outwards."

"And this is completely normal?" I asked her, wringing my hands in worry.

"Entirely. Recovery from brain damage can be tricky in the sense that it varies from person to person. It could lead down to PTE, or anything of that variant, we're really not sure-"

"Epilepsy," I blurted out, "You're talking about Post Traumatic Epilepsy."

Melissa put her hands on my shoulders, and made me look her in the eyes, "June, listen to me. Ginny is going to be fine. In a few weeks we can try another healing potion, see if that helps at all."

"I don't know how to make a potion that can effectively fix brain damage," I told her, my voice growing thick due to the sob dying to escape. "Ginny and I haven't gotten that far yet, will she even remember any of the stuff she has left to teach me?"

Melissa sighed, bringing me in for a hug, "We'll just have to wait with time."

A few more days had passed since then, and the doctor's concluded that despite her significant (and in several doctors' opinions, fatal, as I later found out) brain damage, Ginny was making a miraculous recovery. Her memory fell into place simply by speaking with people, and with Sheriff Stilinski, who filled her in on most of what was going on. She merely had to spend her time in the hospital sleeping, eating, or re-learning several basic functions, like how to say certain words, or how to write again.

I woke up to possibly some of the loudest snores I've ever heard. My eyes fluttered open, and looking up, my nose crinkled in annoyance at Stiles' figure: eyes peacefully shut, and mouth hanging wide open, making sounds that I didn't know could come from him, fill the room. The only thing that made me feel the teensiest bit better was waking up in the warm embrace of his arms, pulling me flush against him in a protective manner.

Lifting my head up, I rolled my eyes in frustration when I glanced over at the alarm clock on Stiles' nightstand. It read a time that was far too early for my liking, and far too late to try and fall back asleep for a little bit longer. It wasn't like I could fall back asleep anyhow, what with Stiles' ridiculous snoring.

I reached a hand out to find a cellphone on the nightstand next to me, only to come up empty-handed. I whipped my head around to a nightstand that contained absolutely nothing. Sighing, I realized I had left my phone and its charger in the guest room. I'm not really sure who I thought I was kidding at that point, I had been sleeping with Stiles in his room ever since last week, when I arrived back at the Stilinski house. Grumbling as silently as possible, I slowly untangled myself from Stiles, and strode out of the room, toes curling due to their contact with the cold floor.

Malia had texted me not ten minutes prior, asking if I could tutor her for an upcoming test. She had double texted, the second being sent in all caps:

THE ONE THAT DETERMINES WHETHER OR NOT I AM A SENIOR WITH YOU AND IF I CAN GRADUATE WITH YOU OR NOT. PLEASE HELP.

I chuckled, replying back that we could study out on the lacrosse field, while Scott, Stiles, and Kira attended their early morning lacrosse practice before their game against Devenford Prep the next night. Malia texted thanks, her phone apparently still stuck in caps, and I set my phone down. The upside to waking up early, I suppose, was that I had more time to get ready. I was grateful I could fix my hair, which was all frumpy due to me sprinting in the parking lot of the hospital in the pouring rain from last night. I dug through my duffel bag and pulled out the clothes I was to wear, as well as my curling wand.

I curled my hair before brushing it out, letting the curls die down into their appropriate waves, before clipping some of my hair back. Satisfied with the results, I unplugged the wand, and brought it back into the guest room, before setting it on the nightstand to cool off.

The sun was already in the sky by the time six o'clock rolled around. I slid on my converse before walking back into Stiles' room. He was still sound asleep, snores not having died down. I'm surprised the sheriff didn't hear them from his room, but one faint snore from down the hall was answer enough. I laughed breathily, wondering how I ever had slept here peacefully before. Calmly, I kneeled down on the side of his bed, and tried to shake him awake.

"Stiles," I shook him, but he didn't budge, "Stiles."

"Hmm?"

"You've got an early morning practice for the big game tomorrow, remember?" I spoke slightly louder, but probably still too gently, because he still wouldn't move.

"Hi," Was all he replied back, and I rolled my eyes.

"Listen up, bud, if I'm gonna watch an entire lacrosse game, a sport I genuinely dislike as you damn well know, then you better not suck."

"Not gonna suck," He mumbled in between snores.

"You said you'd drive me to school, and I promised Malia I'd help her study while you practiced. Remember, she has that huge math test coming up?" My voice was growing louder with each sentence. I raised my voice to an annoying level when he started turning away from me. "The one that determines whether or not she's gonna be a senior with us next year? STILES?" He opted for hugging his pillow, and groaned in a dismissive tone. I huffed, turning around in near defeat.

Glancing around, my eyes fell to the murder board I had bought him, and stared blankly at all the notes and articles he had surrounding the benefactor. I even saw in a corner a little figure with a question mark in its face, with the question Who is the Desert Wolf? next to it. I froze when I looked at the opposite corner.

There sat Ethan Brehm's mugshot, his eyes both blackened, nose crooked in multiple places, and under him sat an article about his prosecution. Several other articles about him were encircling it as well, but underneath sat writing that in every way warmed my heart.

Day of Trial Date Ideas:

- Agate Beach

- Redwood Forest Hike

- Disneyland/ Universal Studios

And underneath that list, was written:

Anything that takes June's mind off Brehm.

I nearly cried at the sight. Turning back to Stiles, I fondly placed my hand on his shoulder, rubbing my thumb while he snored away. Then, I quickly yanked on Stiles' arm, jerking his body back over to me. Before Stiles could register what was happening, I placed one hand on his stomach, and the other into his hair as I placed my lips onto his.

He was quick to respond, placing his hand in my hair, and sitting up into the kiss as he moaned in surprise and content.

"Mmm, hey," He broke apart from me, "What are you doing? I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

I smiled at the drowsiness that slurred his speech as he gazed up at me in fondness and confusion. "Frankly, Stilinski, I don't give a damn," I quoted before placing my lips back on his. Stiles was slightly more attentive this time around, and caught me as I placed my weight on him, arms wrapping around my body entirely and still not breaking from the kiss.

"And that's why you the natural log cancels the 'e,' got it?" I glanced up from pointing to Malia's homework to see her gaze wasn't even focused on me. Instead, it was focused on the unnecessary testosterone build-up that was occurring on the lacrosse field. I sighed before standing up and sitting down directly in front of her line of sight.

"I'm so sorry, June. I'm trying, I really am, it's just-"

"It's just what? You'd rather go jump one of those guys' bones than sit here and do math with me?" I quirked an eyebrow, shielding my feelings of hurt by deflecting with sarcasm.

"I'd jump Coach's bones if it meant getting out of sitting here and doing math," She replied and I blanched, nearly gagging. She turned to look to me. "I don't mean sitting here with you, it's just doing the math."

"Malia, you're doing everything correctly," I explained, pointing at her past homework scores, "But then you go back and erase everything, only to do it incorrectly."

"I just never feel like it's right," She mumbled, and I sighed, moving back to my original seat where all my notes were scattered. In writing down notes for Malia, I had unintentionally filled out three notebooks of material in hopes that she could use them to her advantage.

"You are right, and you need to stop beating yourself up over this stuff," I explained, flipping back a few pages. I noticed the green sticky notes were outweighed by the red sticky notes on the notebooks.

"I just need to accept that I will never ever advance any further than remedial math. It's just never gonna happen, I suck at it."

"You don't-" A lightbulb went off, "Malia, what do you think you don't suck at?"

"What?"

"What do you know you're good at?"

"Hunting, I'm good at sucking at math, I mean honestly I think I was better at being a coyote than I am at being human."

I sat up straighter, "Okay, then let's think about this in ways that will be easier and more personal to you. When you were a coyote, what did you do to prepare for the winter?"

Malia pondered for a moment, before answering, "I had to find enough food, build a shelter, stay near water, and make sure no one else came near my den."

I nodded eagerly, "Okay then, we're going to move math into several categories for your test."

"How?"

"Think of it this way: the test is the winter time, what you have to survive. How you survive it, is math."

"What do you mean?"

I moved the notes around so a green sticky note was showing, a yellow sticky note was showing, and so was a red sticky note, "For example, the red stickies are what we need to work on most, the most important. So I'd say, for now, the red sticky notes are the same as needing to find a reliable shelter during the winter, wouldn't you agree?"

Malia nodded, still a little confused. I pressed on, pointing my pen at the yellow stickies, "Now these, say they're still important, but not your number one priority. Say the yellow sticky notes are the same as you making sure you had more than enough food for the winter, okay?"

She could see where this was going, and nodded again.

"Lastly," I pointed to the green sticky notes, "This is something that is critical, but you almost always have no trouble doing in preparation for winter. So, say that green post-it's are the equivalent as staying near a good water source. There were plenty of streams in the preserve, I'm sure you had almost no problem."

"But what does this have to do with me passing the test?" She asked, still not quite on board.

I gestured between all the notebooks, "You need all the elements to pass the math test, just like you need all of those things to survive the winter. Red is the one you need to work on the most, just like finding a shelter is your number one priority. Just think of this not as a math test, but as you surviving the winter."

I could see Malia mull it over, when the next thing I know, she's tackled me in a hug. I would've been delighted had she not been slowly suffocating me in more ways then one. Her entire body weight was on top of mine, as well as her arms encircling my waist that were constricting me like a boa.

"Malia - honey - I can't - breathe," She quickly let me go and straightened up. I slowly sat up, ensuring that none of my organs had been rearranged or flattened, jumping when I heard Coach's whistle. I quickly grabbed up my backpack and pens before helping Malia gather up her notebooks and textbook.

"Thanks, June, you're honestly a lifesaver," She gushed, and I waved her off.

"It's nothing, Malia, I'm glad to help." I turned to see the lacrosse team hustle back to the locker rooms, "Don't forget, when you're studying with Lydia tonight, be sure to go over what we went over today, alright?" She nodded fervently, striding down the bleachers and back into the school.

I followed after her, but by the time I walked through the double doors, Malia was out of sight. Sighing, I walked over to my locker and dumped out a few unnecessary textbooks. Grabbing the notebook on my AP Biology notes, I doubled that with my math notebook and headed over to the boy's locker room.

I was just in time, too, for all the lacrosse team was filing out. Liam nearly bulldozed me to the ground in an effort to seemingly get away from everyone, and I waved to Kira as she walked down the opposite hallway from where I was.

"You're going to light up some light bulbs at Derek's, that's your idea of a date?" I whipped my head around to see Stiles and Scott putting backpacks on their shoulders and leaving the locker room. Stiles, seeing me, kissed my cheek and slid his hand into mine before turning back to Scott.

"No, we weren't just going to do that, I just thought it'd be a cool thing to do."

"Are you talking about yours and Kira's date?" I asked, "Because I think that sounds super cute."

"Well, we were going to watch a movie too," Scott added, blushing slightly at my cooing.

Stiles stopped mid-walk in the hallway, taking his backpack off of his shoulders, and unzipping it zealously. He pulled out a movie case and thrust it into Scott's arms.

"Finally, now you have zero excuse," He exasperated, zipping up his backpack and returning his hand to me.

"What is it?" Scott asked, opening the case.

"Star Wars: A New Hope," Stiles answered proudly, "It's digitally remastered, so you're really gonna love it."

"Why do you just carry that around in your backpack...?" I questioned, scrunching my eyebrows together. I didn't receive an answer though, for just as Stiles opened his mouth, the overhead bell rang, signaling class about to start. Scott and Stiles started walking ahead, but I yanked on Stiles' hand, stopping him and effectively stopping Scott.

"Here, Scott," I handed him the notebook, "Save us a seat in math, would you?"

"What is it?" He flicked through the notebook.

"It's just some stuff on AP Biology," I answered, shrugging, "The textbook was too wordy, so I kind of shortened it."

"You took notes on the entire textbook?" Scott asked incredulously and I almost laughed.

"No, just the curriculum. Actually, most of that is from the Bozeman Science website. You should take a look at those videos, they're genius." Scott nodded, before walking away towards the math classroom.

"June, we've gotta go, we have class in a bit."

"Well hang on, I still have four minutes," Was all the explanation Stiles was given before I placed my lips on his. Smiling into the kiss, I thought of this morning, where it felt like we had all the time in the world.

Stiles got the memo and spun me around so that my back was up against the row of lockers. It took all I had not to audibly moan when I felt Stiles' hands dip down below the small of my back. My fingers slid up into his hair as our mouths opened and our tongues danced. I paused for a moment at the taste of spearmint. A lot of spearmint.

"Did you brush your teeth again after practice or something?" I asked him, and he flushed, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Uh - yeah. Yeah I accidentally got grass in my mouth after someone tackled me."

"Oh," I replied, before shrugging and placing my lips back on his. We resumed our former positions while I breathed out in between kisses, "Three minutes."

"What did you think the Reynolds Pamphlet was going to be like?" I laughed, glancing at my boyfriend currently sitting at his desk. I had a position on his bed, reading Ron Chernow's book on Rockefeller, and texting Malia and Lydia with pointers to help the former study better.

"I genuinely thought that it was like a pamphlet you get when someone hands one to you on the street. Just a little tiny one page thing explaining what he had done and that was it."

I shook my head, grinning, "Nope, back then you had to have the receipts. Not to mention he literally couldn't stop himself from writing down everything."

"Man, it's just like I'm seeing this man ruin his own life by doing this."

"Yeah, his poor wife, am I right?" I asked before I heard the sheriff's footsteps echo down the hall.

"Drop what you're doing. I'm taking you both out to dinner, whatever you want," Stilinski all but burst into Stiles' room. I glanced over at Stiles, and he looked at me confused, before turning his stare back up to his dad.

"Dad, I don't really think a man of your debts should be treating anyone to anything."

It almost looked like Stiles' dad was waiting for him to say something like that, for he pulled a sheet of paper out of the back of his pocket and handed it to Stiles. "Well, there is one debt we no longer have to worry about."

"What is that?"

"A letter of apology from Eichen House," My eyebrows shot up, "Apparently, they've decided to forgive our debts due to - uh - well, to you and Lydia almost getting murdered."

"I didn't even know they could do that," I exclaimed, trying to relieve the tension.

"They can do it, and they did it," He smiled over at me.

"I have never been so happy to have almost been murdered," Stiles mentioned, and I pursed my lips in sensitivity to the topic, but I smiled regardless.

"We're not out of the woods yet," Stilinski added, looking at me once more in something like gratitude, "But we're gonna be just fine. And at least for the moment, I can afford to take my son and his girlfriend out to dinner." Stiles gleefully threw his copy of the Reynolds Pamphlet to the side, and I slid my bookmark back into my book, securing my place before grabbing my phone and sitting up.

"June," I glanced up at the two Stilinski's, "What do you like to eat?"

"Svíčková," I almost groaned at the thought. They both stared blankly at me before Stiles rounded to his dad.

"Pizza, she likes pizza," Stiles smiled at me, and I smiled at his dad, who looked slightly confused. He nodded and they both walked out of the room, Stiles waiting for me by his door.

"I genuinely think that you would like it, I mean, you're Polish. It's all hearty food and you love good food."

"June, we've been having this conversation since last night. I'm not trying your sheeshko - whatever it's called."

"Svíčková," I corrected, "And I don't care if you don't like it, the point is, you're trying it. There is a good Czech restaurant in Sacramento and I am going to take you there soon."

"You mean after we deal with Kate, who is still around somewhere?" Stiles quirked his eyebrow, holding the door to the school open for me. Walking inside, I felt my phone beep, and saw that it was Lydia texting me in explanation that she thinks something is going on with Deaton. I texted her back, asking if it was one of her premonitions, and if Scott could double check with her.

"Hey, have you seen Scott since his date last night?" I asked Stiles as we stopped at his locker. He asked me to hold his gym bag while he placed his backpack into the locker. I nearly toppled over at the unexpected weight of the bag, but still maintained a look of worry.

"No, why?"

"It's just, it's weird," I explained, handing the bag back to him, and walking with him down the hallway, "He was supposed to text me after his date about any questions he had on the biology notes I gave him. We were gonna set up a time to go into this."

"So Scott didn't text you back. Don't take it personal, he's not the best at replying to those."

I shook my head, feeling something wrong in my gut, and worried that Stiles wasn't as worried as I was, "I don't think you get it. Scott is really serious about becoming a veterinarian, and is basically using all his spare time in reading up on biology courses," Stiles didn't seem to be too invested in what I was saying, so I hastily grabbed on to his arm and made him face me. "Hey, I'm serious. Something's not right, Stiles."

"Look, June, I didn't see him last night, but I did get a text from him this morning. He said he's gonna be a little late. Plus, while he's serious about becoming a veterinarian, he's also serious about lacrosse. He's gonna turn up, June. I've gotta go change, please try not to worry," He placed a kiss on my lips, "I love you."

I huffed, "I love you."

He could see I still wasn't biting, "Hey," He put his hands on my face, "Did I mention you look great in a jersey?" I grinned, looking down at the twenty-four emblazoned across my maroon shirt. Looking back up at him, I could see his eyes were twinkling. He kissed me again, a little bit more of a substantial kiss than the last, and turned to walk to the locker room. Sighing, I turned around to head to the bleachers.

As I did so, I nearly collided with the freshman who had been avoiding all of us like the plague. I had grown accustomed to his fleeting eyes and nervous stature over the past couple of days, but what did throw me for a loop was the fact that he was looking me directly in the eye. His blue eyes hadn't met my own for quite some time, and it caught me off guard.

"Liam, what-?"

"Have you seen Scott?"

"What, no, I haven't, why?"

His eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite put my finger on, before they were barricaded by a slightly guarded facade, "Uh - nothing." I quirked an eyebrow, and he caved, "It's just that we're playing Devenford Prep again, and I wanted some pointers. I stopped by his house, but he wasn't there, and neither was his mom."

I nodded, masking my suspicion, "Melissa had the late shift last night with your dad, I think." That did nothing to calm his jitters, "Hey, look. Stiles said something about a text, why don't you go and ask him?" Liam quickly nodded and skirted around me. I turned around to watch his retreating figure make his way after my boyfriend. I sighed heavily, my worry increasing for my friend and his girlfriend with every footstep as I made my way out to the lacrosse field.

I trailed behind the Sheriff Stilinski and Malia, occupied with my phone. It was the sixth time in a row that I had tried, and failed, to contact Scott. Groaning in frustration, I put my phone in my back pocket, sitting next to the sheriff, Malia on his left. Perking up, I saw Stiles sit next to Liam almost directly in front of us, and I got up, not being able to just sit and do nothing.

"I've been practicing," I heard him say, "Let me tell you something. I've been getting good. Really good."

I slid my arms around his neck, "Hey."

I could see him smile from my vantage point, "Hey, June."

"Good luck out there."

"He doesn't need it," Liam interjected, "He's apparently getting good."

I could hear Stiles mutter something along the lines of "Little runt," before turning around to face me.

"Did you call Scott?" I asked, my hands moving to his neck, and he placed his hands on my arms, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner.

"I just texted him, and I called him right before practice. He'll be here, don't worry."

"It sounds like you're trying to comfort more than just me," I chided, before leaning in closer, "I love you. Be careful out there."

"June, it's lacrosse, it can get pretty violent."

Kissing him quickly, I replied, "All the same, it's not my favorite thing to do to watch you get tackled to the ground."

I still had to watch Stiles get tackled to the ground. I winced in sympathy as three players took him head-on, leaving him in the dust. This was after his many failed attempts at actually playing lacrosse.

"Are you sure he won the championship last year?" I asked, leaning over to the sheriff, who was wincing after Stiles took another big hit.

"I'm not sure if he's just having an off game, or if my son was replaced with someone who is even more of a hyperactive spaz."

I hummed in agreement, "Well, we both know that that's not possible, he's the most spastic person out there."

Half time rolled around, and unsurprisingly, Beacon Hills was trailing Devenford Prep by three. I saw Liam and Stiles plop back on to the bench, and I figured now was as good a time as any to check my phone to see if Scott was in fact still with us and was doing just fine.

When I received no such notification, I put my phone away and looked up. Just in time, too, for Stiles was quickly advancing towards the three of us.

Almost inaudibly, Stiles explained what was going on to his dad. I knew now wasn't the time to go and gloat in his face that I was right about Scott, but I also wasn't going to sit and do nothing now that we were going to go and look for him.

"Do you want me to stay here in case he shows up?" Malia asked, as I stood up with Stilinski.

"Yes," Stiles agreed, and I tapped Malia on the shoulder.

"Keep an eye on him, too," I nodded in Liam's direction, whose back was facing us. "He might need a little extra support." After Malia agreed, Stiles placed a hand to the small of my back, and guided me to the parking lot. The sheriff agreed to follow behind us wherever we decided we were going, and I climbed into the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep while he got situated behind the wheel.

"Okay, if I were Scott, where would I be...?" He trailed off and I rolled my eyes.

"Let's not think about this like a game of hide-and-seek, alright?"

"Well then, where do we start?"

"You're the detective, Stiles, where do you think we should start?"

I saw Stiles flush in appreciation at my comment before his eyes lit up in realization, "We start with the last place he was known to be for sure."

"Which is what?" I asked, egging him on.

"Derek's."

After a change of clothes and a short drive, Stiles, his dad, and I all piled up and made our way up to Derek's loft. Inside was Derek and Braeden, glancing around at broken glass and furniture. The large window at the center of the room had a large hole through it, allowing for a cool breeze to dance across our skin. Stumbling for a moment, my vision was replaced with that of an iron door, and when my gaze fell down to my feet, all that I was standing on was a pile of bones.

"June," I was gently shaken by Stiles, who wore a look of concern. I shrugged it off, nodding my head at Derek to ask what had happened.

"What the hell happened?"

"It was supposed to be a date," Derek explained.

"They were both here?" Stilinski tried to confirm, and I could already tell he was throwing together a search party as we spoke.

"And they're both gone," Braeden answered softly, crossing her arms in a defensive manner. As soon as she said it, my phone started vibrating loudly. I jumped, and quickly yanked it out of my back pocket, hoping it was Scott with a satisfactory explanation as to why he tore up Derek's loft, but that he was okay.

"Scott?"

"No," Lydia replied, "But Scott's been taken."

"Yeah, we know," I countered, glancing around at all the destruction. "Scott and Kira have been taken, we just don't know where."

"Mexico," I heard an new voice answer, surprising me when I head the soft lull of Deaton's tone, "And if you want to save his life, that's where you're going too."

My eyes widened as I hung up the phone, and my gaze fell to Derek. Fear creeped up my spine, thinking of how the effects of reversing his age, if only temporarily, were still affecting him. How once Kate was finished with him, it seemed to have a grim outlook. I placed my phone back in my pocket.

"Well?" Stiles asked expectantly from beside me, "Where are we going?"

"Back," I whispered before clearing my throat. "We're going back to church."

Svíčková is pronounced like Sheesh-ko-vah. Elongating the ah sound at the end. It's an incredible Czech dish that I had over when I was studying abroad.