Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf characters. Sigh.
A/N: I apologize most profoundly for the atrocious update time. I had a wicked case of writer's block, and it felt like my brain was completely empty. I'm back, though, next update should come in a few days. Thanks for reading!
Derek wasn't happy. That much was abundantly clear, which kind of worried me. I had yet to see him happy, though, so that didn't exactly tell me much. I didn't remember even seeing him laugh or smile once in the few days I'd been with him. Actually, I was pretty sure he'd been weirdly cheerful when he forced me to drink the protein shake.
Still, as he and Argent walked in slow, deliberate steps up to us, I tried to ascertain just how not happy Derek was. Upon reaching our group, he fixed me with a dark look that even I could understand. We'll talk about this later, promised his steady gaze and the flat line of his mouth.
The other man didn't look very happy either. I avoided eye contact, thinking it best to just bypass any type of communication or signs of interest altogether. He sighed. I'd noticed that this particular group—chiefly Scott, Stiles, and myself—seemed to garner a lot of sighs. "Why does it not surprise me that you three are here?" His voice was low and rough, and it was mostly directed towards Scott, Lydia, and Stiles. But his next words made me think that he knew them well enough to know the validity of their presence. "Did you find anything?"
Scott stepped forward slightly, opening his mouth.
A breeze whispered across the hillside, bringing a full, fresh stench of rotting flesh to my nose. I had learned early on as a coyote that eating dead animals was totally viable option given the lack of live prey. Yet, even young as I was, I had been instinctively able to identify sickness and disease in animals, dead or alive. There was a distinctive sickly sweet tinge on top of usual scents of decomposition.
The rotten stench carried on the breeze not only had the same sickly sweetness as diseased carrion, but was strong enough that I felt like someone had physically hit me. I bent double, feeling light headed, and my stomach roiled dangerously. Pressing a sleeve over my nose, I tried to fight the weird, thick feeling of something creeping up my throat, but I couldn't. My stomach gave a sharp twist and heaved, and suddenly liquid came burning up my throat and out my mouth.
Wait, I knew this one. I was...vomiting. That's what Henry had called it. I'd done it a couple of times right after eating. Only for my first few meals, though. Then I had adjusted just fine. Still, I didn't know smells could make me do that.
Lydia put a hand on my back, and for some reason, I was shaking, even though I wasn't cold. My eyes watered horribly, and my stomach gave another lurch, but this time nothing came out. I just gagged uselessly.
Lydia's hand left my back, and she dug around in her purse. A second later, she gently pulled my face upwards and smeared something just under my nose. I recoiled at the touch, staggering sideways to get away, but almost instantly the scent of peppermint flooded my nose and brain.
The sick, twisty feeling in my stomach faded, and I straightened shakily. Derek looked a little uncomfortable, and Scott was even covering his nose a little. They smelled it then, just not as much as me. "The scent is stronger over here," Scott noted, slightly muffled behind his sleeve.
"That's because whatever is making it is back," I croaked. The stench wasn't old, like the one I'd smelled before. It was fresh, and it was strong. Whatever was giving off the wretched smell was back, and it was nearby. The breeze was coming from the east, so I turned to face that direction, unable to do much more than that before feeling like I was going to fall over. The peppermint was cutting through the stench, but it was also making me completely lightheaded.
A huge, silver pistol appeared in Argent's hand, and he and Derek took off running. They understood just as I did where the breeze, and therefore the smell, was coming from. Because they were hunters. I scrubbed whatever Lydia had smeared under my nose off with the back of my hand. I was a hunter too. And I wanted to hunt.
Scott must have felt it too, because he took two running steps after them before skidding to a halt. He looked at Argent's and Derek's disappearing forms, and then he looked back at Stiles and Lydia. They were wearing kind of bewildered expressions, and I wondered if they could even smelled what we did. No, otherwise they wouldn't be so calm. The stench was playing havoc on my instincts, and I simultaneously wanted to tear something apart and flee to my cave.
In the end, Scott jogged back, apparently overcoming his desire to join the hunt. I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, not really sure how, because I was about two seconds from running.
"You should go back to the cars, get out of here," Scott told Stiles and Lydia.
"What about you?" Lydia demanded.
Scott's eyes flared red, and he cast a speculative glance over at me. "We'll be fine."
I thought Lydia was going to argue more, but suddenly her pulse started racing. She turned and started walking with Stiles back towards the cars. I saw the shoes she was wearing and thought it rather impressive how easily she kept pace with Stiles' long strides. Scott and I followed, relaxing slightly when the scent faded the closer to the cars we got.
Suddenly, I was glad that I hadn't automatically run off after Derek and Argent. Because, as I walked by Scott, I realized that this was the first chance I'd had to talk to him outside of school.
When I'd first started going to school, the only reason was so I could talk to Scott. But somehow being at school twisted my head around in so many directions that I could never muster the time nor the approach to ask Scott about my problem. But now, as I jogged beside him, sweeping the area uneasily with my eyes, I had ample opportunity.
Of course, as soon as I made the decision to talk, I had no idea what I was going to say. "Derek says the full moon is only a couple of days away," I finally forced out, as it was the first thing that came to mind.
Scott's face never changed. He still looked thoughtful and tired, and I had the feeling that he knew exactly when the full moon was. He threw another glance my way, but I couldn't read it this time. "Derek will help you," he assured me. "He'll make sure you don't hurt anyone."
I kept pace with him quietly. Yes, I already knew that Derek would help me. Help me whether I wanted it or not, probably. What I wanted was Scott's help. I wanted him to tell me how to control the change. "That night...what you did..." I came to a stop, frustrated at how all the words seemed to disappear from my brain at the moment I needed them most.
Scott stopped as well, turning to face me. "The night you changed back," he prompted patiently.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "You did this to me." I tried to articulate, gesturing at myself. "Can't you just undo it? Or...or teach me to undo it?"
He looked a little lost, running a hand through his hair even as his face melted into bewilderment. "AJ, I roared at you. I channeled everything I had into it, and even then, I didn't know if it would work. When I roared, it appealed to the human part of you. My alpha roar didn't change you back. You changed you back."
I stared at him, anger rising up inside me like an ugly darkness. No. He had done this to me. I would have chosen to stay a coyote. He had forced me turn back into a human. My fist balled up, and I wanted to smash it into his face, but no, that would not get me what I wanted.
So I buried the anger and tried again. "Can you teach me how to control it? I want to be able to be in control, so I won't hurt anyone." That was a lie. I wasn't totally concerned about hurting people. But Scott was. And if Scott was, then maybe he would help me. Find common ground, Miss Morrell had told me at Eichen House. Find similarities between yourself and others, and it will help you establish lasting relationships.
Not hurting people could be common ground. Even if I didn't care at this particular moment, then maybe I would learn to. And really, that didn't seem like a terrible thing to learn. Compared to math, it seemed downright exciting.
Scott was still looking at me with his brown eyes. They seemed sad. "Yeah," he said softly, in a way that I didn't totally get. "I can help you learn control. Meet at Stiles' house tonight?"
"Yes," I said automatically, thrilled that my plan had worked. Then I thought about Derek. Would he let me go to Stiles' house? I narrowed my eyes. He wasn't the boss of me. I didn't need his permission to go. Besides, I would go anyway, even if he told me not to.
I glanced up ahead, frowning when I realized that Stiles and Lydia were no longer in view. Something prickled along the back of my neck, and I forgot about Scott, feeling like something was definitely wrong.
In the distance, there was a roar. It was long and angry. Derek—he was roaring as a challenge to something, someone. Scott drew up short, but I ignored him, suddenly feeling the need to get Lydia back in my sights.
I took off running, not caring which way Scott chose to go. Turns out, I do have instincts.
Cresting the hill, a low growl burst from my throat. I didn't even know why. A couple seconds later, I understood why just fine.
The smell was back, but it was different this time. Not as sickly sweet, not as full-bodied of a rot. Different smell, different source.
My feet churned steadily against the ground as the gate we had parked by came into view. Fear made me fast and strong, pumping adrenaline through my veins. I wasn't scared, but then maybe the fear wasn't for myself. I didn't spend a long time thinking about it, because the moment the cars came into view, I knew something was very, very wrong.
The stench got worse and worse the closer I got, but I didn't care. I could see Lydia and Stiles walking quickly along the gravel path. I cut across the hillside, knowing I could intercept them before they reached the cars if I vaulted over headstones and dodged the occasional bush of flowers.
I was right.
Lydia was just slowing her gait and digging around in her purse for the keys, when something burst out from behind the Jeep. It looked human...mostly. Its skin was gray and dull, and it looked grotesquely stretched over the thing's bizarre, hunched frame. I didn't care what it looked like, though. I just cared what it was after.
As it barrelled towards Lydia and Stiles, they stood momentarily frozen. Then Stiles grabbed Lydia's hand, dragging her out of the way and behind him, but it did no good. Whatever the Thing was, it just altered its course, maybe not caring which person it attacked first.
I didn't give it the chance.
As it moved in a weird skitter towards Stiles and Lydia, I blindsided it, tackling it with enough force to carry it sideways and ruin its trajectory. Together, we crashed to the ground, and I was almost overwhelmed by the sheer force of the smell. But instead, I braced my knees and brought a savage right hook smashing across its jaw. Gray skin flaked off against my knuckles, and the Thing opened its mouth.
Fetid air rushed out, making me instinctively push myself backwards in an attempt to get away from the foul odor. Sharp yellow teeth clacked against each other loudly, and the Thing jolted upright, turning the tables as it dove towards me and slammed me down on my back.
Its head dipped in past my left forearm and jagged teeth closed over the muscle of my shoulder and neck, tearing into the skin with ease. Then as quickly as it had bitten me, it let go, blasting me in the face with noxious fumes and spitting out a mouthful my own blood down onto my face. I let out a snarl, unable to stop myself, and channeled the pain into raw power as I shoved it off me.
It was thrown a few feet away and came to a bouncing, rolling stop. I used the time to scramble to my feet. It popped upright again, shifting and pacing in place. Its eyes—stained the same aged yellow as its teeth—were only half focused on me. I wasn't the target.
I didn't even have to glance behind me to know that I was inconveniently parked between this thing and Stiles and Lydia. The muscle between my shoulder and my neck twinged painfully, aching. I shrugged, rolling my shoulder and pushing past the pain. Pain was good. Pain made you motivated.
The Thing feinted to the left, trying to get around me towards Lydia and Stiles. I pivoted on a foot, not moving any more than necessary. The ache turned into more of a burn, and it hurt. A lot. It was no longer a dull reminder, but a stabbing distraction. I growled again, feeling something deep inside me stir. My fingertips tingled, and I realized that I had claws now. My teeth elongated as well, and I laughed. Oh yes, I was ready.
The Thing lost its patience and skittered forward. It moved fast, but I was faster. I didn't try to stop it as it went past me this time. Instead, I let it run itself into my claws, and then I gutted it as it tried to dodge around me. Dark fluid spurted out, drenching me, but it wasn't blood exactly. I didn't pay attention to the slickness though, because the Thing kept right on going, as if I hadn't just sliced up its innards.
I spun on a foot and took two hurried steps, tackling it from behind. Stiles and Lydia darted past us as we skidded to a stop on the gravel. Good. At least they had the sense to get to the cars and get out of here.
The Thing writhed in my grasp, flinging me off with unexpected strength. I landed in a controlled slide, digging up long furrows in the loose gravel as I used one clawed hand to steady myself throughout the slide. Then I shot forward again, kicking up rocks behind me as I ran.
The thing was up on its feet before I reached it, and I realized that it would be ready for any attack I had. I tried to slow down, but my momentum had already been built, and I skidded right into its waiting hands as I failed to stop in time due to the loose gravel. It caught me easily, swinging me around in a nice circle to send me airborne back the way I'd just come.
I flew straight and true, feeling weightless for a second. Then I smashed into a windshield, and I no longer felt weightless. A blanket of pain covered me as the glass cracked around me, and I lay there, dazed. Someone screamed—the sound piercing and terrified. It broke through my haze and drew me back to reality. Lydia had screamed. Oh. I had landed on her car, then.
Some part of me warned me that I need to get up, and I eased out of the crater that had previously been the windshield. Glass crackled and tinkled as I tried my best to climb off the car. I ended up slithering down the hood and falling into a heap on the ground in front of the bumper.
I hurt. I hurt very badly. But I struggled to my feet anyways, using the car for support. My hands were slick with the dark fluid, and they slid a little on the smooth surface of Lydia's hood, but I managed to gain my feet nonetheless.
The Thing was moving forward again, and I didn't know if I was fast enough to stop it anymore. Its belly was grotesque, and I definitely saw some stuff that was not supposed to be hanging out of the gaping wounds, but that didn't slow it down.
Stiles coming after it with an aluminum bat might, though.
I snarled, keeping it's attention squarely on me, as Stiles appeared behind it. He must have run around the long way to get where he was. Regardless, he stepped up and swung, making a solid connection to the back of the Thing's head.
More liquid flew, and the gray, hunched figure staggered forward a few paces. Then it became absolutely still, save for its head, which turned as far as humanly possible to pin Stiles in place.
Stiles gripped his bat a little nervously, but he had enough common sense to start backing away. I groaned, realizing I was going to have to engage the Thing again. If the Thing killed Stiles, then Scott would be pissed. If Scott was pissed, then he wouldn't teach me how to change back, and then I'd never get anywhere with this coyote thing.
Letting out another groan, this one more for the pain, I took off towards the Thing. It didn't see me coming, which told me that between the gutting I'd done, and the blow Stiles had delivered, it was definitely hurting.
I tackled it again, slashing at its throat with all the strength I could muster. It hurt, and my muscles were tired, but I didn't stop. Dark fluid flew even as the Thing tried to bite me. I might have been in trouble, had it claws instead of blunt fists, but as it was, it just snapped its teeth and hammered away at my face and ribs with jerky motions.
Stiles' feet shuffled in the gravel nearby, and I rolled free of the writhing mess, ending up on my side as I watched the Thing's hands swing erratically around in search for me. It let out a loud sound, somewhere between a keen and a bellow. The sound carried, not unlike a howl. It was communicating, I realized, just as Stiles stepped up, hammering the Thing in the head a few times with his bat from a safe distance. Eventually, it went quiet and stopped moving.
I stopped moving as well, feeling it best to just lay perfectly still and try not to think about what hurt. In reality, the whole fight had taken less than five minutes, but it certainly didn't feel like that. Not by a long shot. On the bright side, I had enough monster gunk on me that I wasn't really affected by the smell anymore.
Somebody came pounding down the hillside, and I raised my head just long enough to determine that it was Scott before promptly going still again. Not a minute later, glowing red eyes filled my vision. "You okay?" Scott said, his voice full of something I didn't quite recognize when directed at me. Concern, maybe? I smiled a very toothy, very bloody smile, and I think he got the point. The red eyes receded, and as he moved away, I relaxed again.
He and Stiles crouched over the Thing, partially obscuring it from my vision, and Stiles poked it with the bat. "What do you think it is?" Stiles said, sounding morbidly curious.
"Nothing good," Scott replied quietly. Then he stood and turned, looking back up the hill expectantly. I didn't understand why until Derek and Argent came into view. My brow wrinkled for a second, as I tried to puzzle through how Scott had known they were coming. I gave up, not really caring. I had more important things to worry about. Like the fact that the area around where the thing had bit me was now kind of numb and tingly. Hopefully that meant it was healing.
I wanted to stand up before Derek came down the hill. Otherwise this would be the second time in as many days that he'd found me lying on the ground. But really, I just couldn't motivate myself to get upright, much in the same way I hadn't been able to the night before.
When Derek came closer, I saw that his shirt had been torn a little, and the same dark fluid that covered me was splashed on part of his t-shirt near the bottom. Which meant, I supposed, that there were two, maybe more, of those things out there. I had smelled two different—very, very similar but still different—scents, so I was leaning towards just two things. One, now, I congratulated myself.
Derek walked up, ignoring Stiles and Scott and the downed body. He crunched steadily across the gravel, coming to a stop upon reaching me. Then he looked at Lydia's broken windshield for a long moment and back down at me with the same steady look that was usually reserved for when I had left my wet towel or dirty clothes on the floor. I looked up at him, too tired to be cowed, and shrugged. It hurt, and I intensely regretted it, but it made Derek's eyebrows raise, and that was good enough for me.
Pulling his gaze away, Derek looked over at the body. Argent was already leaning over it, murmuring something I couldn't hear. But Derek looked like he understood just fine. Then, without even looking, he grabbed a slick handful of my shirt and pulled me up, same as last night. I wasn't quite as steady, this time, and maybe he knew that, because he kept a fistful of the material the entire way back to the car.
It seemed like forever to get there, but in reality, his SUV was parked not twenty feet behind Lydia's car. He opened the door to the backseat, and I clambered in tiredly, slumping over on the bench seat. Derek left, going back to check out the body with the others, I supposed. I didn't really care, though. The seat was comfortable, and I was tired. The pain wasn't enough to keep me awake, so I shut my eyes and let myself doze.
I couldn't sleep. Not really. Not after a fight like that. Survival instinct is tricky sometimes. I should have been bone tired, and I was, kind of. But at the same time, I was on high alert, ready for the next threat. Sleeping was out, but dozing, I could manage.
I came out of it easily when Derek climbed back into the car and shut his door. I peered forward, alarmed, because I could only see out of one eye. I brought my hand up to find out why, but Derek twisted in his seat, stopping my hand's upward motion. "It's swollen shut. Leave it alone so it can heal."
I gave him a grumpy grunt, and searched for the clock on the dash. Ugh, I had only dozed off for six or seven minutes. It felt like I was slogging through a fuzzy cloud, trying to get my thoughts in order.
"Go back to sleep," Derek commanded as he started the car. I scowled at him, peeved to do anything he ordered me to, but my one good eye eased shut anyway, regardless of my wishes.
I snapped awake again when we came to a stop. We weren't at the loft. Instead, a small, clean-looking white brick building filled my vision. I brightened, realizing I had two functional eyes again. Then I glowered, realizing that sign outside labeled the building as the "Beacon Hills Animal Clinic."
I didn't have time to argue, though, because Derek opened the door and waited for me to get out. I did, but slowly. My entire body ached. I knew it wouldn't last. My body would heal itself, just like it had with my eye, but the waiting still sucked.
After following Derek into the clinic, we were greeted by a smaller man in a white coat. He was about my height, sturdy, and he had kind eyes. He was also bald, and he had traces of a mustache matched with a solid goatee. I didn't trust him. "Derek," he said by way of greeting. "I've been expecting you." Then he turned to me. "It's very nice to meet you, AJ. My name is Doctor Deaton."