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Edit: 08/22/2014: Inappropriate bolding. Stilinsky-Stilinski

Last time:

"Pushy," Scott accused with a vague, uneasy smirk.

"Only 'cause you're a pushover."

Relations between us… Were strained for the next week or so and we avoided being left alone with one another for any length of time. At least, until the bus incident.

Bus incident? What bus incident?

Like a car crash?

No, I mean like, serial-killer-blood-splatters-the-windows type of bus incident. I was intending to meet up with Scott and Allison at some point before school- or maybe just Allison since she seems to be some kind of Lydia magnet- when I pulled into the parking lot, but I couldn't even really get to a space since there was a huge crowd of people stupidly milling about in the middle of it around- someone had to have guessed it by now- a school bus.

Honestly, I couldn't see what the big deal was, but, as became apparent to me when I recognized my dad's car at the scene, something seriously bad had happened.

Plus, the bloody handprint on the bus window was a tiny hint.

Though the crowd pushed and pulled at me anxiously, I rammed straight through to the familiar stern figure of my father.

"What happened?"

He looked down at me with a frown, upset at my very presence, it seemed. Honestly, if he didn't want his kids involved with the criminal events of the town, he shouldn't have taken up a job that put him and his family smack dab in the middle of them. Although, it's not as if there had been a lot of excitement of the illegal type before… Scott's furry issues.

"Nothing you need to know about," he predictably denied me information, "Get to class."

I popped up in front of him before he could turn away, "Uh, I think if something mass-murder-y happens at my school, I kind of need to know about it." I crossed my arms when he didn't look swayed, "And I'll find out from someone eventually."

"No one was killed," my probably lying father retorted stiffly.

"It definitely looks like someone was, Dad. That was pretty weak, even for you," I dodged his grab for my ear and glared at the lack of respect he had for my evasion skills. Well, and for my ears too. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

The sheriff turned on me with no little exasperation, "Listen, the poor man suffered some sort of animal attack and he's in a coma, and now I have to figure out how this happened in the middle of the school parking lot, inside of a school bus!"

"Oh, so-" Animal attack? Could Scott have had a hand- claw- part in this? "Shit, okay, thanks, Dad, see you later!" Sometimes, I feel a little sad how relieved my father looks whenever I'm rushing away from him. There is, though, always a reason for the rushing. Better get back to that.

Bobbing up and down as I shoved with as little rudeness as I could manage through the gawkers' crowd, I caught sight of Scott's unruly mop. He appeared about three seconds away from freaking out, according to my internal Scott-o-meter.

"No, no no no, nonononononono, no…" He chanted firmly to himself. I didn't bother trying to get his attention or even slowing my pace. I grabbed his arm as I raced past, pulling him away from the potential eavesdroppers and into the school.

His weight alone stopped me halfway into the hallway but his arms took action of their own and pulled us into the shallow alcove between two rows of lockers.

He was holding my shoulders when he looked up at me with eyes still wide with vestiges of terror and informed me in a disturbingly calm tone, "I think I killed Allison."

Whatever I had been expecting… "Allison? So you had nothing to do with the guy on the bus?"

"Guy on the bus?" Scott's brow creased. So, had he done anything or not? And was Allison okay? Had he… been with her last night…? The thought caused me an irrational level of distress and I tried to brush it off. Must be jealousy that Scott got the person he wanted. Not to mention how sick it was to worry about that when Allison… "Maybe it was just a dream, then. I dreamt flashes of attacking Allison on that bus and when I saw blood there I jumped to conclusions."

"My dad definitely said it was a man on the bus." I affirmed nervously, wondering how and when Scott would realize just what might have happened with the poor victim.

"But… Someone was still attacked."

"Yeah."

"I don't remember him." Scott sounded almost frustrated and I slapped my hands around his forearms, preemptively cooling any anger triggers and sapping the hints of tension out of Scott's face, "I could remember the first turn almost perfectly."

The questions battled out of me the second I edged back an inch in my defensive lock-jawed position, "Could we ask Hale about what happened? Was he there? Did he try to stop you?"

"I think… I think I remember… Another wolf…"

"Scott?" We both turned to see Allison walking toward us with an adorably confused expression of concern on her face as she adjusted the strap of her bag. She stopped a foot away and glanced between us curiously, "Is something wrong?"

I pulled my hands off Scott like his temperature had been cranked up to a hundred degrees centigrade and patted his shoulder uncertainly, "Bit of a panic attack here. He doesn't do well with blood." She 'aw'ed sympathetically and took his hand in hers, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him. At that moment the need to be somewhere- anywhere- else, overtook me. Forsaking Allison's use as a Lydia-magnet, and with Scott's stricken face as his darker emotions returned burning in the back of my mind, I babbled, "I'll just, uh, leave you two alone now, shall I?" There's no wording what I did next in any honorable context. I fled. I deserted Scott in his time of need because- what? I couldn't stand to see a happy couple when I was… When I was so alone.

I stopped three lockers away from my first period class and leaned heavily on the nearest of the three. I was alone.

Well, obviously, I wasn't literally alone. I was rather surrounded by people who hadn't heard or didn't care about the catastrophe in the parking lot. The point was: I didn't have anyone. Not even in a strictly romantic sense, but I didn't have anyone whose first instinct at a party was to seek me out, or who called me just to hear about what I was doing, or who let me depend on them as much as I allowed them to depend on me.

And boy, did I let them.

Even Scott, and somehow it felt like a betrayal, but I continued stubbornly, if only in my mind rather than aloud, took more from me than he could ever give back with Allison in the picture. I mean, more than he could ever give back…

I bit my lip; an unpleasant idea was hooking sinisterly shaped claws into my conscious and I could tell it would take quite a bit of bravery to acknowledge it.

I slammed my hand against my temporary crutch and pushed up into a standing position. I didn't want to face it alone. And I wasn't feeling particularly courageous right then, anyway.

Class passed in something of an extended blur punctuated with ignoring Scott. It was selfish, and a little painful to watch his hurt confusion morph into wrath as the day dragged on. I couldn't face him with that awful idea poisoning every train of thought. My own mind felt turned against me and every dismissal of my behaviour from my peers was like extra reinforcement of how alone I was.

"Hey… You. The dorky one!" Even Lydia's voice as she addressed some mystery person in the hall behind me couldn't pull me out of my funk. Her angelic tenor grew progressively more irritated as she honed in on whatever idiot would ignore her for so long. A perfectly manicured hand landed on my shoulder, "I've been calling for you for like, ten minutes… You." While slightly awkward in delivery there was no doubt that she was talking to me.

"Me?" I squeaked embarrassingly, adding to the redundant idiocy of my question.

"Yes, you," She rolled her pretty green eyes, "I want to talk to you." I followed her obediently. Could this be it? Could she have finally realized that unspoken connection between us I'd felt for so long? My heart pounded out stampeding noises in my chest and I hoped the heat in my face wasn't as obvious as I felt it was. My hands suddenly felt clammy, so I stuck them hastily into my pockets, in case she tried to drag me by the hand at some point. The last thing I wanted at this point was to scare her off with sweaty palms.

She rounded on me, "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Okay. Definitely not going to worry about scaring her off, then. "…What do you mean?"

"You're making Scott upset with your 'woe is me' attitude and that makes Allison upset and I don't like it when my friends are upset, you hear me?" She glared at me with an intensity that niggled at my memory and made my heart skip a beat, even if it was only directed at me in anger, "So either you buck up and snap out of your funk or you get lost for a day or two until you can smile pretty and pretend it's alright, you get me?"

Well, that was an odd choice of words. Did she really think I was pretty? Not what I was hoping for, but I'd take what I could get… My heart sank only slightly as I realized that, if anything, Lydia would be connecting it unthinkingly back to herself. I was no fool. I would have to be an idiot to overlook the strength Lydia had when I'd obsessed over her since the third grade. That particular sentence, though, had snapped the world back into perspective. There were bigger problems than the fact that I was alone, and they weighed on everyone.

The red-haired vixen before me upped the level of her dirty looks, but I could see there wasn't much substance to them. Even Lydia had her issues, but she was here to make sure I didn't fall victim to mine.

I forced a small smile and amiably tapped her shoulder, "Thanks for worrying, Lydia."

"I'm not worried," She denied instantly, looking at her nails with raised brows and pursed lips, "I don't even know your name." I didn't say anything as I walked away from that last, jabbing remark, but I felt lighter than I had in a long time and if I wasn't mistaken, or hallucinating, Lydia just may have whispered, "Better, Stilinski. You're catching on," with a hint of a smile in her tone.

That thought alone put a spring in my step as I exited the school intent on hunting down Scott and Allison to make amends and- Oh shit. The little fact that Scott was pissed to the high heavens seemed to have slipped my mind. He seemed to have his turning, at least, under control today, but he still had to be furious with me.

Scott used to be pretty difficult to get up to furious. Quite honestly, Scott furious with me scared the living daylights out of my weak little human heart. My best survival tactic would be to avoid him until he calmed down. The idea appealed to me; I'd always been a fan of ignoring problems until they went away.

Or I forgot them. Either one usually worked.

I sneaked shiftily out of the school, staying in the shadows until I edged around the corner to the parking lot. My car was nearly in sight when my world turned upside down. Literally.

"Try not to drop him!" Allison waved cheerily, "And Stiles, I suggest you talk things out!"

Scott had actually thrown me over his shoulder and- with his girlfriend's blessing- was abducting me to places unknown. To add insult to injury, I'm almost certain Scott threw a salute in Allison's general direction.

Let me tell you, there is a reason you don't generally carry around conscious people on your shoulder. For one, it is uncomfortable as all get out, and two, the passenger can pound on the carrier's back with relative ease in comparison to other holds.

Not that Scott seemed to care. He was whistling a jaunty tune as we (in the loosest sense of the term) wandered down the road toward Hale's house. After a while, I grew tired of protesting and hung limply in Scott's grip.

"Are we there yet?" I whined, watching Scott's heels and prohibiting my eyes from wandering upwards. Scott's hand clenched on my leg from, I presume, the pitch of my complaint on his delicate werewolf ears. "You know, I was going to apologize once you'd calmed down," I wheedled, trying to get a grip on some bare skin on his arm as I spoke.

Scott jerked his arm slightly away, his whistling abruptly cutting off and his true emotions rising to the surface. "Don't do that. I deserve to be angry with you right now."

I fell across his back in defeat, "Can I at least walk on my own, then? I have to be heavy."

He actually seemed to think about it for the next few jolting steps before shaking his head, "I don't want you to run off."

The backs of his heels were met with my scathing glare, "Could I really run off, Scott? I mean, really?" He was a werewolf. I was a human. Simple figuring, one would think.

"You really don't like being carried, do you?" He asked redundantly with a tinge of smug vindictiveness.

There were several moments of tense silence on my part as I tried and failed to think of a diplomatic reply. That consisted of sticking out my tongue at his shoes. "I have problems, too, you know," I muttered sulkily.

"It's not like you ever tell me about them," Scott pointed out resentfully, ignoring the fact that my volume was not one most humans could hear and hence, had not truly been intended for his ears. "I have to drag it out of you or- and this is just wrong- ask my mom about it." I had a feeling he glared at my legs in the pause, "You seriously find it easier to talk to my mom than me?"

"No. Yes. Sometimes?" Before he could growl at me I hastily explained, "I always want to tell you everything, Scott, I just don't always know how to say it, but your mom mostly just can guesstimate what's going on with me with her freaky voodoo powers, so I don't have to worry about if she'll think I'm weird for bringing something up because she usually already has an inkling of it, you know?" Scott did not seem convinced from the stony silence he replied with and I tried to remember how the whole argument started. Address the main points! I never knew English class would come in handy in any practical applications outside of the workplace. Huh. You learn something new everyday. "I didn't mean to leave you hanging, Scott." He didn't answer but I could feel the essence of the silence change, as if his ears had perked in my direction. "It was a rotten day all around and I was already feeling a bit insecure, so I thought, you know, since you were with Allison you'd be fine. It kind of felt like you didn't need me now that Allison's in the picture and I guess… I guess it hammered home how alone I am." And there it was out in the open. At some point Scott had stopped walking, and the lack of his footfalls was deafening. The entire forest seemed to hold its breath as Scott processed what I'd said and what I'd meant with an aching languidness that felt like forever.

Scott began to move forward again. I'd resigned myself to the indignity of being ignored when Scott mumbled, "I'll always, you know… I'll always need you, Stiles. More than… Anyone, really."

Well, that was heart-warming. I almost wanted to reply with similar sap, but there was a more pressing issue to be dealt with. "Then can you let me down?"

"No."

"You didn't even stop to think about it this time!"

"I'm still mad at you!"

"So?!"

"Dammit, Stiles; stop hitting me!"

"Not until you let me down!"

"God da- STILES!"

I'd managed to wriggle out of Scott's grip and land with a thump on the forest floor. It was actually sort of like one of those scenes in a horror movie, with the stillness and the isolation and my angry werewolf buddy and the darkness between the trees… You know, I understood the logistics of Hale living in the forest, but there was a primal part of me that would never quite get over the eeriness of it. I scrambled to my feet and tried to get a bit of distance between Scott and I, "I'll just walk along with you so don't- hey!" Scott swiped at me and I fell over, catching myself with an arm and propelling my body backwards and up into a standing position just a tiny bit further away than when I'd started. "Scott, wait!" Scott had taken a second swipe and connected, grabbing a belt loop and dragging me in with a grim exasperation.

"Since you refuse to be carried," He informed me darkly, sliding an arm about my waist and gripping my opposite hip painfully with a thankfully de-clawed hand, "You're going to walk here."

"Better than being over your shoulder," I retorted pathetically, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. After Scott and I had settled on a pace we could both maintain (it could also be described as Scott slowing down until I stopped mentally crying), most of my irritation had been assuaged by the rhythm of the walk and I had recovered enough to be curious and, admittedly, scared. "Where are we going?"

"Hale's house," Scott replied nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on me to better drink in my reaction.

"You can't bring me there!" I protested, "He'll eat me!" Scott snorted. Really, though, this was no laughing matter. Hale had been very serious when he'd told Scott not to bring me round again. "Why?"

"I hadn't really thought it through," Scott admitted, pulling me a little closer when I shivered from a combination of Hale-themed thoughts and the wind, "I just wanted to figure out what happened with the bus driver and I wanted to make you stop ignoring me. The two must have mixed in my head."

"Great." I shifted, "Getting any closer to remembering?" I did not want to meet up with Hale again. Something about the elder werewolf just rubbed me the wrong way. ...That, and he still kind of scared me.

"Actually..." My question had been rhetorical, thus I turned my head in surprise at Scott's musing tone and felt his hand relax slightly against my skin, becoming hyper-aware of the hand in exchange for not noticing its path under the brim of my shirt in the first place. How was I getting so used to Scott's new wolf-habits? "I remember..." Scott continued, a furrow in his brow even with my supposedly calming effect, and his eyes widened, "That wolf was not Hale."

"What do you mean?" Did wild wolves run with the pack now? And how exactly was he sure? Had he seen Hale transform?

"Its eyes were this... Burning red and it- it connected with me," Scott rambled, fingers, once slack, now almost burrowing into my side.

"Like... Physically?" I awkwardly mimed the collision of two forces and Scott dragged his fingers further up my side. It elicited a small shiver that Scott seemed to dismiss as cold, pressing me flush against his side to stave it off. Whatever happened there, it hadn't been the cold getting to me and I could feel my cheeks fill with shaming blood even as my stomach twisted.

"No, like, mentally. He was in my head," As Scott's tone darkened, his claws pricked me and I jerked instinctively away from them, incidentally towards the true source of my pain and nearly knocking Scott over. His expression was chagrined as I forcibly removed his hand from my side, mind racing. He carefully replaced his fingers around my wrist nearest him and glanced at me, belatedly for permission. I barely noticed because- werewolf telepathy? Seriously?

"Do whatever, just don't stab me anymore," I acceded carelessly. It really didn't matter so long as I didn't get hurt since I was too eager to discuss this new development, "You two connected telepathically? Could you read his thoughts? Or could he read yours? Oooh, do you have all his memories now? I suppose not if you're not in control of your wolf still-"

A squeeze to my arm cut me off. "Stiles."

"Yeah, okay, just answer them in order."

"Sti-iles!"

I rolled my eyes. Forgetting that other people can't often keep up with my train of thought is a bad habit of mine I had no intention of wasting time trying to break. "You two connected telepathically?" I repeated monotonously.

Snorting before replying to someone is usually considered bad form, Scott. "I caught that one, thank you. And sort of."

"Could you or could you not read his thoughts?" I demanded once the pensive pause had stretched on an inordinate amount of time.

"No, I couldn't," Scott conceded, adding, "It was more like I could feel his emotions or- no, that's not exactly right..." When his thumb slowly began to rub the side of my wrist like a worry-stone I knew not to interrupt his thinking. Scott tends to wear holes in his knees by virtue of this particular trait alone during the school year and faster than ever during finals week. Something good better be coming out of it, though, or Scott was getting dislodged faster than you can say Stiles in a werewolf storm. "He... forced feelings on me. I remember fighting them, but..."

"But you couldn't?" A voice questioned irritably from nearby, "And what did I say about bringing that back here?" Hale gestured at me in disgust, appearing to have spawned from a tree trunk in the past two milliseconds.

Scott threw him a feeble grin; "I was planning on leaving him in the driveway."

"I heard about the bus driver," Hale cut in, apparently having moved on from the undying aggravation of my presence to more pressing issues, "It's likely that you actually didn't have a hand in his death."

"He's in a coma," I put in, not liking what Hale was implying.

He fixed me with an unreadable look for an infinitesimal moment before returning to his train of thought, "You'd be part of his Pack by now."

"Whose pack?" Scott cut in with the urgency of one teetering on the brink of getting the answers they need, "You know that guy?"

Hale actually hesitated, "I don't know his name, or his human form."

"But you do know why he affects Scott, don't you?" I interrupted eagerly. The end of a mystery is always better than the mystery itself and we'd been stuck in the middle of one since Scott had gotten bit. I was more than ready to push past this uncertainty in the hopes of discarding other troubling thoughts the events of the past couple weeks had brought with them.

"He's the Alpha," Hale explained with a weary glare in my direction, "And the one who turned you, Scott." He suddenly came very close to us and looked at Scott irritably, "But we shouldn't be speaking about this in front of your..." Here his eyes flickered to me distastefully, "Friend." Scott abruptly released my wrist at the word, glancing between Hale and me shiftily.

"He'll tell me, anyway," I muttered, shoving my hands in my pockets and ignoring the pang at Scott's sudden distance.

"But why does the Alpha have that weird ability?" Scott pressed.

"Come back later," Hale turned and began to walk away, "Without the pest."

"Wait!" Scott dashed after the pale-skinned werewolf, yet he apparently had little luck in finding him since he returned dejectedly a minute or two later. "You waited for me?" He raised one questioning eyebrow as he drew close and slung an arm over my shoulders. I almost shrugged it off- he'd deserve it- but in a moment of common sense, I held in the urge to alienate my only protection in the creepy woods.

"No, Scott, I thought I'd take my chances in the werewolf-infested forest on my own."

"Sounds like you."

"Shut up."