Chapter 2. History Is a Myth Told to Children

The morning after the Winter Formal, Allison stayed in bed just being happy.

Her parents weren't expecting her downstairs this morning. At least that's what her dad had told her when she'd walked in the door last night (five minutes ahead of curfew—thank you very much!). She didn't have any chores that needed doing, so she was going to take advantage of every moment she could to dodge the weirder parts of her life. She just wanted to think about last night.

It had been fun watching Lydia deal with a star-struck Stiles instead of ignoring him as she usually did. It became even more fun when Stiles had stopped being overwhelmed by Lydia and talked her onto the dance floor. Allison wasn't sure they'd ever be boyfriend/girlfriend, but she could see how they could have a great friendship.

That had been the second nicest part of the dance.

Halfway through, Allison thought it would be the best part, because Jackson had gotten drunk and turned into an asshat as soon as Lydia and Stiles had sat down with them, and Allison had wanted to kick him. To be fair, sitting with Lydia and Stiles probably hadn't helped Jackson's mood, but still! Jackson had shown none of the charm he'd had when he'd asked Allison to the dance.

When he'd gone for more food and hadn't come back, Allison had been relieved. She'd expected to spend the rest of the night sitting at the table, and then Scott had turned up.

Her phone dinged a text alert.

'Had a great time last night. Thx. You looked awesome, btw.'

When Scott arrived they'd stolen a dance together then another. They'd left before Coach Finstock could regroup and kick Scott out.

'Wanna get burgers later? Mengos'

Mengo's was Allison's favorite burger place in Beacon Hills.

'Or cld go to park. Avoid crowds'

Mengo's was the favorite burger place of a lot of the people in Beacon Hills. On a Saturday, it was sure to be filled with people who would point at her and whisssper.

'we cld bring burgers tothe park but we'd end up fighting teh geese for r fries'

'Never fight geese,' she texted back. 'They're mean and fight dirty'

They'd spent the next few hours just walking and talking, and Scott had been everything she remembered him being at the start of the year: goofy, kind, and sweet. At one point, he'd tried to be serious, but Allison hadn't wanted serious. It was the Winter Formal! She wanted simple things. Normal teenager things, like holding hands with her boyfriend.

Well, she couldn't have that, because Scott wasn't actually her boyfriend anymore, but she could have other things. Things that made no mention of crazy aunts, werewolves, or death, and Scott had given her that.

He'd been wonderful!

'that isn't a no'

'but up to you, of course'

She rolled over and read the texts again. It was obvious he still wanted to be with her. He'd wanted to kiss her last night, (and she'd wanted to kiss him) but he'd been a gentleman. If they went to the park, they could maybe be private (more private than at a high school dance, at any rate), and then maybe she'd steal that kiss.

Mind made up, she texted him back. 'I'd like that.' Both the burgers, and whatever happened next.

Allison smiled as she got out of bed. She smiled as she washed and fussed with her hair. She happily weighed the pros of jeans (warm, casual) versus a cute flippy skirt (cute, flirty), before deciding on the jeans (in case they did go to the park). She put on a ruffled shirt that was flirty to balance out the jeans. A little mascara and lip gloss (casual, casual—they weren't getting back together), and she was good to go.

She skipped down the steps heading for the kitchen for a quick snack. Her mother was waiting in the den.

"Allison," she called as soon as Allison's foot hit the front hall.

Allison paused, smile dropping away. "Yes?"

"Come here please," her mother said. "I'd like a word."

Allison quickly reviewed the last twelve hours of her life. She'd come home on time. She'd slept. There was nothing there that her mother could be unhappy with. "Can I grab a snack first?"

Victoria appeared in the doorway. "We can talk in the kitchen."

Allison couldn't tell if that was a good thing or bad, but she followed her mother into the kitchen. Allison had planned on just grabbing a granola bar, but with her mother there, it became a sit down meal.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Allison asked as Victoria heated the fry pan for scrambled eggs.

"Now that you know the truth of things, that monsters are real," Victoria hesitated and Allison braced herself. "Your father and I are of the opinion that you should begin training again."

"I don't want to be a hunter," Allison rushed to say. Because she didn't want to torture people. Or kill them. And if she didn't say it now, she wouldn't have the courage later.

"Not all creatures are as… harmless as Derek appeared to be." Her mother's mouth twisted as if the words themselves were sour. "It would merely be self-defense training, specialized, but not really any different than any of the other classes you've taken."

It seemed innocent, but Allison wondered if there was a catch. Still… "That might be fun."

Victoria's shoulders dropped and some of the lines around her mouth disappeared, and Allison realized that her mother had been more worried about her response than made sense. Unless the families had been pressuring her about Allison's training.

"And you should consider taking up your archery again." When Allison had dropped out of archery, both her grandfathers and various aunts and uncles had sent weird emails urging her to reconsider. Her mother's father, Grandpa Paul, had even offered to buy her a top-tier compound bow.

At the time, Allison had refused because A) her parents had already tried bribing her (duh!) and B) compound bows weren't even allowed in Olympic competitions. It made more sense now, though: compound bows were what hunters used. So many of her childhood memories made more sense now.

"Is that also something Grandpa Gerard will ask about?"

Allison watched her mother twitch around the kitchen, straightening the towels and shifting the tins on the counter. Unnecessary actions that her mother would never normally make. Given how careful Victoria was about not looking at her, Allison figured this was just as important as the defense training.

"Not just Gerard," her mother confirmed. "Aunt Elizabeth has mentioned it."

To give herself time to think it over, she drank some of her orange juice. There really wasn't any reason not to practice her archery. There was a certain Zen to archery that could, maybe, be a nice counter to the craziness that was the rest of her life. However, she didn't want to be a hunter, and she wasn't going back into competition.

"How much time would you expect me to put in to training?" she asked.

"Six hours of hand-to-hand and four of archery per week."

Allison grimaced. Ten hours, not including travel, on top of her AP classes and chores. Ugh. "Three hours of self-defense, and two of archery? I've got mid-terms coming up."

Her mother looked at her, that cool, impersonal look that meant she was weighing options. Allison kept her head down and ate her eggs. Then she decided she shouldn't have to hide from her own mother. "Why is this so important? I mean, my personal danger level hasn't changed just because Aunt Kate's been arrested. Or because I know about werewolves."

Her mother gave a small smile. "Astute question, Allison." Allison could almost feel a phantom hand giving her a pat on the head. She buried her irritation by eating some more breakfast. It gave her mother some time to think of her answer.

"I do, honestly, believe that you should begin more intensive training as soon as possible. Just knowing about the supernatural can attract it to you," Victoria said calmly, wiping the counter of non-existent crumbs. "You notice it more, are less likely to dismiss what you've seen as mere shadows, and in turn, it notices you noticing." She folded the dishcloth with a snap. "Besides, your grandfather will ask."

"Oh," Allison sighed. "Makes sense, I guess. Kate is his daughter."

"Yes, well." Her mother paused unhappily. "He'll make a point of suggesting—insinuating—that you should give up school and become a Hunter. That being a Hunter takes precedence over any other career path you might choose. Whatever he says," Victoria continued. "Remember that you have your father's and my support in whatever you decide to do."

Allison's chest swelled and she felt a little buoyant.

"But it would be best if you just go along with him for the duration of his visit."

Allison deflated. "How long will he be staying for?"

"He'll be staying to help with Kate's legal defense."

She dropped her gaze to the pale yellow blobs on her plate, appetite gone. "Oh."

It was going to be a long year.

-o0o-

It had been a long drive to the prison where Kate was being housed. Long and hot, and Chris had been filled with a futile rage the whole time.

Actually talking with his sister—her looking pale and tragic on the hospital bed—wasn't easing his anger, because his sister was a selfish maniac to go along with being headstrong and stubborn.

"You can't go around saying that." His teeth were grinding so hard they probably registered as a small earthquake.

"But the cops have to," she said with a smug laugh. Her voice was rough, but her words were clear. Unfortunately. "The police at the station saw Peter Hale, all furry and huge. They can't claim it was a mass hallucination. And Derek was all fanged out in the basement when the sheriff and his posse arrived. They have to tell the truth on the stand and then everyone will know I did the right thing."

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose. It didn't help with the tension.

"Kate, talking like that isn't going to get the charges dropped or reduced," he pointed out.

She shrugged, one shoulder up and down, as if they were talking about which wine to have with dinner. "They can't get me on the Hale fire because Peter very helpfully killed all my co-conspirators." She smirked. "Too bad I can't thank him for that."

It took a moment for Chris to absorb the stupidity of what she'd just said—what she'd admitted to. He slammed his hand on the arm rest. The guard at the doorway shifted, ready to intervene.

"Are you fucking stupid?" he shouted as quietly as he could. "You realize that they are recording us."

Kate just looked bewildered. "They're not allowed to do that."

"Of course they are. I'm not your lawyer." Chris reminded himself that she didn't know the sheriff had recorded them at the station after her arrest. He'd protested, but their regular lawyer had explained the limitations of legal privilege to him very thoroughly. Surely, Kate had received the same information. "Do you really think they're going to give us any privacy in a jail?"

She stared at him for several long moments and he thought, hoped, that she finally, finally, understood what kind of shit she was in.

"I can't talk to you?"

He hung his head. "Of course you can talk to me, but not about the trial. Not about the charges. Not about any of that."

Another long moment. He met her look, and didn't recognize the woman looking back at him.

"Then what's the point of you being here?" She looked over his shoulder. "Guard!" Her voice was scratchy, but still loud enough to bring the guard over.

"Time to go, sir," she said, hands on belt.

Chris stood. He didn't want to…

He wanted to stay. To talk to his sister. Not as hunters, but as family. They used to be closer. They used to be a team. When did that stop?

"Sir, I believe it's time for you to go?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He turned halfway to the door—to say what? He didn't know—but when he looked at Kate she had her eyes closed. As if he no longer existed in her world.

He was halfway to his SUV when he realized that the visit had ended before he'd had a chance to warn her that their father was getting involved. It took him a long time to admit that even if he went back in, Kate probably wouldn't agree to see him.

-o0o-

Lunch with Scott was supposed to distract her from the yuck that was her home life, but it wasn't working, and that was freaking Allison out.

It was supposed to be a simple burger, a casual date where she could test whether she really did want to get back together with Scott, but Scott had brought Stiles along—well, Stiles had driven Scott over in his jeep, but he hadn't left. Instead, he kept glaring at Scott and then nodding at her, like he was ordering Scott to kiss her, or something.

That was weird, but Stiles was generally weird. What had her worried was Scott's behavior. Each time Stiles nodded at her, Scott would flinch and shake his head in return. He'd squirmed in his seat like a 3-year-old on the drive over, and hadn't met her eyes except once.

A couple bites in and Stiles had dragged Scott away for 'a conversation' leaving her alone at the small table.

Did he not want to get back together? She wasn't getting that feeling, but how could she know when he wouldn't look at her!

Allison shredded her bun and tried not to watch Stiles lecture Scott. Finally, (finally!), they headed back to the table. Stiles pushed Scott down on a seat. "Scott has something to tell you."

Allison turned to look at Scott, who looked petrified. "What is it?"

"I… I… Maybe it could wait?" he squeaked.

Stiles whacked the side of his friend's head. "Honesty, right? That's what Dad says. Don't let him dodge this," he said to Allison as he grabbed his bag. "I'll see you later." He gave them both a small salute and walked away. Scott watched his friend go like he was being left to die.

It would've been funny, except Allison was worried—seriously worried. What was wrong with Scott? Was he sick? Did he have some disease? She forced her voice to be calm. "Scott?"

He looked around, but there was no one to save him. The seating area was empty. He swallowed again. "You know Stiles tells me everything, right? I mean, we don't have any secrets between us."

"I kind of figured," Allison said, confused. "You're not a couple, are you? Like a friends-with-benefits, thing." It was only half teasing. It wasn't inconceivable; she knew how close the two were.

Thankfully, the horrified look on Scott's face was an answer on its own. It was so comic-book (and such a relief) that Allison had to laugh. "Oh my god! So glad," she managed to choke out. "I like Stiles, but... no."

"Definitely no."

They shared a laugh, half relief, half embarrassment.

"Has this got anything to do with us at all?" she asked finally. "I thought, maybe, you regretted inviting me out today. That maybe we were rushing into this."

"No," he said on a gusty exhale. He looked at her, eyes wide, earnest and sincere. "I don't regret anything. And we can rush as fast as you like. Or slow down. Whatever speed you want to go, I'll keep up."

Allison smiled. Scott was too good to be real. In fact, he deserved a kiss for that little speech, and she wanted to be able to give him that. However…

"If you're not double-thinking about us, you know, trying again, then what's bothering you?"

Suddenly there was at least a foot of space between them, and Scott was back to twitching in his seat. "It's kinda hard to... I mean, I'm not even sure it's a good idea, but Stiles said—and his dad backed him up!"

Before Allison could fully process that, Scott took a deep breath: "Doyouknowaboutwerewolves?"

It left Allison blinking.

"He told you?" she asked. "Was he bitten?"

"You do know about werewolves!" Scott said happily. "I told Stiles you couldn't've, but he said your dad and your Aunt Kate were right there when Mr. Stilinski got bit, so you guys were probably talking about it at dinner, since, you know—hunters. I kinda wondered why you hadn't mentioned it. But Stiles thought that maybe you were afraid I'd think you were crazy, and I thought that was crazy, because you're the most level-headed person I know." He paused. "Who's also a teenager. Most level-headed teenager I know. Except now I know Lydia." He tipped his head. "Is ruthless the same as level-headed?"

Scott was babbling. She wanted him to stop. "You talk about us?"

Scott went quiet, hunching his shoulders a little. "Well, yeah. I mean, Sheriff Stilinski's the new alpha. That's gotta be a big deal." He waved a ketchup-laden fry for emphasis. He shot her a guilty look. "And I know some of what your dad did to Derek this fall—harassing him. Shooting at him, and stuff. Mr. Stilinski said he could've filed charges, but Derek's all about broody suffering so that's not going to happen."

Wow, they really had been talking about her family.

The flare of outrage didn't last long, because wasn't her family as bad? When they weren't arguing about Kate, her parents were talking about the sheriff. They didn't like the fact that a werewolf was sheriff; didn't matter that he'd been sheriff long before he'd been bitten, and they didn't know if anything would change.

"But I don't want to talk about Derek, or Mr. Stilinski, because I'm sorta hoping that what they are has no bearing on, you know, us. But that kinda depends on you."

Or maybe this was about seeing Derek chained and tortured. Maybe he'd found out that she'd been down there, in that basement, and not said anything to stop Kate.

"I didn't know," she swore. "What Kate was doing. My family…" It was hard to speak, her throat was so tight. "I didn't know that they were hunting. And then Kate… I would never agree to what she did. I didn't know. You have to believe me."

Scott shushed her, smiling at her. "I believe you." He took her hands in his. "This isn't about when you found out about werewolves, but when I did."

And then he told her. Everything about the day before they met. A dark night, a too-curious friend and a dead body in the woods. He told her how something had come at him in the dark, after he'd been separated from Stiles. How he'd wandered, in pain, and feeling guilty for losing his inhaler, until he'd found the road and could go home again. How he'd been so stupid and tired... "To top it all off," he laughed. "I nearly got hit by a car when I'd finally found the highway."

"That was you?" She asked, stunned. He just looked at her. "That was us, in the SUV. Me and my mother. She was lecturing me about something, and then suddenly there was this kid in a hoodie, just standing on the road in the rain. We swerved around him and nearly ran off the road!"

"Yeah! That was me!" Stupidly, Scott was smiling again. "It's like fate!"

She smiled back, but it was automatic. What he'd said, what he'd told her. She was getting it now. "You were bitten." It wasn't a question. Or even an accusation, really, but Scott still pulled away.

"Yeah. By Peter Hale."

"You're a werewolf." Her mental voice was starting to loop 'Oh my god! Oh my god!'. Newly-turned werewolves, her parents had said, had no control over their feral nature. They had to rely on their alpha to control them. Peter Hale had been Scott's alpha, and Peter Hale had wanted vengeance for the death of his family. "Did you... Have you... attacked anyone?"

"No!" He shook his head vehemently. "Peter wanted me to." He swallowed, but he kept looking at her, gauging her reaction. "That thing in the school that night? That was him, trying to get me to kill you guys so that I'd be bound to him. He was such a dick!"Outrage was clear in Scott's voice, and it was enough to break the despairing spiral of Allison's thoughts. Scott wasn't afraid. He wasn't confused. He was just honestly and purely unbelieving that someone would be so... dastardly.

It meant that Scott was still the essentially decent guy he'd been since they'd met. So when he said he hadn't hurt anyone, Allison believed him.

"Can I see?" The question was out before she even realized she was curious. She picked up her milkshake to hide her embarrassment.

Unbelievably, Scott blushed bright red. He flicked his gaze around the playground. "Not here."

She couldn't help it; she laughed. "Of course not. We can go to your house?"

"Sure," Scott agreed with a big smile. She couldn't help but smile back, and that encouraged him to move closer again. She drank more of her milkshake to control her smile.

"I can't believe you know," he said softly, cleaning up the last of his food. "But I'm, like, really glad, because it'll make it simpler if you, you know, decide to get back together. But I am sorry you had to find out the way you did. Your Aunt… I know you really like Kate."

"Liked. I liked Kate." She put her milkshake down. "You know she's essentially not denying that she set fire to the Hale's house eight years ago?" She shook her head, bewildered. "How could she do that? And then she calls the Hales monstrous?"

"I'm still sorry." Scott was right beside her now, offering her comfort.

She rested her head on his shoulder, silent invitation. He took her up on it, and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her snugly into his side. He was amazingly warm... Which made sense, now that she knew he'd been turned into a werewolf.

"Did it hurt?"

"Being bit?" he asked in a quiet voice. She nodded. "Yeah. It hurt a lot. I mean, it was a deep bite with lots of teeth right in my side. And it burned. Then the next morning, nothing."

"You haven't got a scar." She frowned.

"I know." He shrugged. "I pulled off the bandage, and the bite was all healed. It was like a dream." He sighed. "Or a nightmare."

She gripped the hand that he had on her shoulder and squeezed it. Comfort ran both ways, after all.

"When did you know? That you'd changed, I mean."

"That day at school. I mean, I didn't know I'd 'changed' just that things were really weird. Smells were intense. I heard you talking to your mother on the phone, before you even came into the school."

"You gave me that pen! You practically had it ready for me." It had been weird how he'd had it out when she sat down, as if he'd known. Turned out he had.

Now, Scott squirmed in embarrassment. It was sweet.

He was sweet. He'd always been sweet, since that first day at school, and he'd always been a werewolf. The Scott she'd fallen in love with was a werewolf.

She wove her fingers through his. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Not to me. You're Scott. That's what's important."

She felt him relax all at once, like a balloon deflating. "Yeah?"

She turned her face to his, not smiling—absolutely serious so he'd know she meant it absolutely. "Yeah."

Scott turned his face back the table, but his smile was sunlight.

"You could kiss me, you know," she suggested.

"If I kiss you now, I don't know if I'll be able to stop," he admitted sheepishly.

It caused a ball of heat in her chest (and lower). "We should go to your house now, then." Allison tried to sound seductive, but she was smiling and seductive wasn't something she had much experience in.

"Yeah. We should, um, definitely do that. Right now." He unwrapped his arm and stood up, gathering the remains of their food and taking it to the garbage. He only banged into two chairs, and tripped on one brick on his way.

Halfway back to her he stopped. "Oh no." She sat up, panicking. He turned to her. "Stiles left."

That was confusing. It wasn't as if she wanted Stiles to come to Scott's house with them. She stepped in close to Scott and said so.

His look of doom didn't change. "We came in his jeep."

And they were all the way across town from Scott's house. It would take an hour or more to walk it.

Allison slumped. "Noooo..."

"Yeah."

-o0o-

The drive back to Beacon Hills was even longer than the drive out had been.

His tension wasn't dissipated by Victoria's report of her conversation with Allison: Allison would train in hand-to-hand, she'd start up her archery again, but she'd stated categorically that she didn't want to be a hunter.

"With Gerard coming to stay, that could cause a problem," Victoria said calmly.

Could? It would, because Gerard was obsessed with legacy and reputation and control.

"We could rent a house for him and his entourage," Chris suggested. Something. Anything, but letting him stay here.

"We've already discussed this." Victoria brushed her hair. A hundred strokes with a boar bristle brush to give it shine.

"He could be here for months." He'd said it before. He didn't know how to persuade her. Didn't know how to make her understand just how… insidious Gerard could be. His father could say the most toxic, damaging things in such way that everyone just agreed with him.

"I don't think he will," she answered calmly, just as she had all the other times he'd said it. Victoria turned to face him, resting the brush against her vanity. "I know you're worried, Chris, but I don't think your father has the patience to be here for the whole legal process. I think he'll stay a month, maybe two; realize there's nothing he can really do at this point except pay for the lawyers and the psychiatric exams. He'll leave as soon as something more glamorous comes up."

It sounded plausible. His father didn't have much patience. But two months!

Chis pressed at the tension centered between his eyebrows. "Leave for good?"

Victoria thought about it, brush moving smoothly through her hair.

"Probably not," she conceded. "He'll stay away for a while, but he'll come back to see how things are proceeding."

Chris nearly swore in irritation. "He'll be full of opinions."

"No doubt, but he'll only stay a couple weeks. The time after that, it'll be a week. Maybe less." Victoria continued. "But while he's here, I'd rather he was somewhere we can keep an eye on him. From what I've heard, that man does nothing without at least three reasons." She stared at Chris in the mirror. "I want to know them all."

The idea of Gerard's visit being a mission, of Chris having to strategize and plan a way to get intel out of his crafty father, made him feel better about allowing Gerard into the house. He'd need to rattle Gerard enough to make the old man give up some of his secrets.

"I'll call him 'dad'," Chris said. "He hates that."

-o0o-

They walked.

They walked and talked like they had done on her birthday except this time, instead of picking flowers and skipping stones on a pond, Allison and Scott window-shopped and kicked cans (gently) down the street.

They walked in a world containing just the two of them.

They walked…

And talked about werewolves.

"That night in the school. Why didn't Peter's call control you?" she asked. "I mean, my parents said that an Alpha's power over its Betas is absolute."

Scott was quiet for so long, she thought he wasn't going to answer, but eventually he sighed. "He reminded me of my dad."

Allison wasn't sure what to say, but she made a supportive sound.

"I remember, I was maybe six? Seven? And my bike had a flat tire. I asked him for help, because Mom was at the hospital, and he shoved the pump at me, barked some bullshit instructions, and then he walked away. Left me in the driveway wondering what he'd just said, and too afraid to ask him to explain." Allison squeezed his hand—she knew what that felt like.

Scott gave her a small smile. "Anyway, when he came back out, the tire was still flat.

"Of course."

"I'd tried but…" He gave a rueful shrug. "I'd put everything away, but he went looking for it. When he found it, he got really upset. Said I should've been able to figure it out, or I should still be trying. Called me lazy and stupid. Blah blah blah. Then he confiscated my bike, because I 'didn't know how to look after it.'"

Allison stopped. "Seriously?"

Scott nodded. "He made me clean the garage, too. 'To teach me discipline'." He took her hand and started walking again. "When my mom got home she fought him about it, of course." He shivered a little, so Allison shifted closer. "One day, when he was at work and she wasn't, she pulled it out of wherever he'd stored it. And then she explained how to check for a hole in the inner tube, and showed me how to attach the nozzle to the valve so it wouldn't come off, and she helped me pump it up." He gave a wobbly shrug. "She never said a bad word about my dad to me, but she didn't have to."

"Is that why they split up?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "He got accepted into the FBI."

"He's FBI?"

"Agent Rafael McCall. Because being a cop in Beacon Hills wasn't good enough for him," Scott said scornfully. "He didn't tell Mom he'd applied, but he sure expected her to pack up and go with him once he'd been accepted."

"You didn't?"

"Why would we?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Allison blinked, feeling just as confused. "Well, women usually go with their family—" Scott was already shaking his head.

"No, wives usually follow the husband. Because women's careers aren't considered as important as their husband's." She could see the air quotes. "But Mom's family was here. Mi abuela was still alive, and Mom didn't want to leave her since she was, like, 80. Plus the house was Mom's, and moving meant selling it or trying to landlord from across the country. It didn't make sense to move." He shrugged.

"But the FBI is such a great opportunity," Allison asked hesitantly.

Scott snorted. "He would be a junior FBI agent, in his 30s. Mom was already a Charge Nurse. She had just as many opportunities in her career as he had in his, so why was she expected to drop everything and start over?"

Again, all Allison could do was blink. She'd never thought of it like that. If her mother had ever objected to moving for her husband's business, she'd never done it in front of Allison. (Although now, of course, it turned out their "business" wasn't their actual job, so who the hell knew how the decisions were made.)

"Plus," Scott continued, kicking at a Starbucks's cup viciously. "He would just get reassigned in a year or two, and then a year or two after that, and maybe more, until he got a promotion and a permanent assignment, you know?" Allison nodded. "So they did the long-distance thing for a while, and it turned out we worked better as a family when he was gone."

There was more to it than that. Allison knew it in her bones (and also because she already knew Scott's parents hadn't divorced until he was thirteen), but she also sensed that Scott was on the verge of being really upset. "So how did that help you fight off Peter Hale's control?"

Now Scott blushed bright red. He mumbled something she didn't catch. "What?" Silence. She poked him. "What?"

She kept repeating it until he finally spoke up. "I wanted to be strong like my mom."

Allison couldn't help jumping on Scott and giving him the biggest hug, even as she laughed and laughed. She had the sweetest werewolf boyfriend ever!

-o0o-

The walk took closer to three hours but they were wonderful, even though they ended up at to her house, instead of going to Scott's.

Scott didn't come up to the door because Allison didn't want him to run into her parents, not even in a nice social setting. She didn't want them thinking of Scott at all, since she knew they were looking for the second beta. Scott had wanted to take her right up to the door of course, to make sure the remaining paparazzi didn't bother her, but she explained about the fence jumping and he looked so impressed.

He was absolutely the best boyfriend ever.

She jumped the Fasal's back fence and walked to the side door.

Then she wiped her smile away, and entered her house. It smelled of the roast beef dinner her mother was preparing. (Her mother had taught in a couple places they'd lived. For the first time, Allison wondered if her mother had ever wanted to make a career of it.

Her dad popped his head out from the kitchen. "Allison?" (He often helped in the kitchen, so maybe her parents' relationship was more of partnership than Scott's parents had been?)

"Yeah, it's me," she answered, already on the stairs. "I'm just going to clean up before supper." Her dad acknowledged it but didn't add anything, so Allison continued up. She loved her parents and she knew they loved her, but Scott had loved his dad, and his dad had been an asshole even though he thought he loved Scott. The thing Scott's dad had done with the bike, it was a type of abuse, right? (Well, he hadn't hit Scott, but it was uncaring and manipulative at the very least.)

Her parents did that to her sometimes.

Not the punishment thing, but they did make comments when her grades weren't good enough, or she hadn't cleaned her room well enough. They moved when they wanted, and made her feel guilty about wanting to stay until the end of the year. Hell, they'd made her move right at the end of the semester. She'd taken her finals in classes she'd attended for a total of ten days. (No wonder she'd been held back a year.) But that wasn't abuse.

Was it?

Allison spent the rest of the weekend, thinking, researching, and remembering.

When her parents didn't want to answer a question, they didn't make her feel stupid for asking. (Her mom just said they weren't going to answer it.)

They didn't go through her phone or her laptop reading her stuff (but her mom had threatened it a couple times).

However, Allison could see that it wouldn't take much to tip them over into controlling-slash-abusive behavior. Something like finding out she was the one who turned Kate in, or that Scott was the second beta. Either of those… Yeah. It could get bad.