Well, I'm alive. Life is just sort of a greedy octopus right now that won't let go of me. On the bright side, update!
Last time:
Scott had been shot, and Hale was not, but Stiles freaked out all the same.
Now, Allison may be in trouble, so Stiles left on the double, though she may just be playing a game.
My car hurtled down streets, and I stumbled during my dynamic exit, grabbing a bit of accidental dirt as I pushed off the ground and threw my momentum at the library doors. Allison was pacing around towards the back of the open commons area, fingering her lower lip anxiously with the other arm crossed over her stomach. It really was interesting how women tended to instinctively protect the uterus even without being pregnant when they were uneasy; in fact- Okay, not the time. As my amygdala beat my frontal lobe into submission, I noticed Auntie Hunter lingering malevolently around her niece and she caught my gaze with a sharp smile and an evil, beckoning wave of her deceptively delicate hand. Well, maybe she just looked up and smiled at me, waving me over, but I was pretty sure she was the one who had shot Scott, so I was a little biased. Allison glanced over at her Aunt's movement and caught sight of me, practically assaulting me halfway across the library. Her hands gripped my arms with a surprising strength; was it possible the Argent family had something special about them, too? It would explain why they seemed genetically determined to eradicate werewolves.
"Are you okay? Did anything strange happen to you on the way here?" A snap, far too close to my face for comfort, and Allison was looking at my eyes concernedly, having released my arms to snap, "You don't seem like you're in shock." Just to be sure, though, she'd grabbed my face to get a better look at how my eyes were adjusting to light, and I'd finally had enough.
Pushing her arms down and her hands off me, I glanced at her aunt's amused expression and back at Allison's evident worry, "Allison, I came here-" You were supposed to come here, anyway, I reminded myself, adding, "So quickly, because I thought you were in trouble."
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, "So, do you know, then?"
"Know what?" I asked, trying desperately to play the innocent victim, "Allison, you're starting to freak me out." Half true. If she'd figured out werewolves- or her aunt had snapped and told her- we might all be one step closer to shish kabob du Scott. I didn't want a shish kabob for a best friend. Or a boyfriend. That was just all kinds of squicky.
"Scott, my aunt just told me everything, and I know how you've been hanging around Hale lately, but if you're trying to protect him, it's no use. Were- their kind are like- like mad dogs- they'll go crazy and kill the second the full moon is out," She pleaded, sounding more like she was repeating than iterating her own thoughts, "It's dangerous to stay near him."
...Not for me, nope. I was, according to Hale, walking wolfsbane with a calming effect- thanks to its interactions with my body chemistry. Which was probably why Hale always avoided any sort of contact with me. That and blatant disgust. That might also have been a factor. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but if you think Hale's- I don't know, part of some drug cult or moon cult or something- you've got it wrong." I'd already committed to the lie, like hell I would back out now.
"You really don't know, do you?" Auntie Hunter pushed off the wall, looking at me with a kind of condescending wonder. Well, good. Condescend all you like, pretty lady. If you underestimate me now, maybe I won't be worth an arrow in the back later. "Let me explain." And she did. The whole evil-werewolf propaganda story they probably fed baby Argents from birth. ...Or not, seeing as Allison had never known about it until now.
"Let me get this straight," I began, letting a tinge of mockery into my tone, "You think Hale's a… A werewolf and that your family is- what? Fated from birth to protect mankind from the werewolf threat?"
"A little melodramatic," the elder blonde crossed her arms over her torso, leaning back against the wall with a little grin, "But yeah. Pretty much."
"I didn't believe it either, Stiles," Allison told me in a hushed voice, audible only to the three of us, "Not at first, but… You wouldn't believe how much it explains about my family. I mean, my cousins are practically a paramilitary organization."
There were more of them. I resisted the urge to squeal like I'd encountered a nest of cockroaches where I'd only expected two and run out the library doors to tell Scott and Hale. "Allison," my hand fell on her shoulder, "Are you sure your aunt isn't just playing a practical joke on us?"
Auntie Argent's eyes grew hard, "I wouldn't joke about this kind of threat, nancy boy."
Ouch. A little frowny face with a tear mark and an open mouth of dismay came to mind, but outwardly I only blinked at the stern woman, "If that's true, then why are you telling me all this? For all you know, I'm a werewolf."
"Catch," she threw something silvery at me and I instinctively caught it against my chest, staring at it uncomprehendingly for a moment before I held it up to her incredulously.
"Your family crest? What, am I mentioned in the super-tiny subscript to be the saviour of the Argent clan in a little-known prophecy by the hags of the Mountain Olympus?"
Allison snorted, and then sent an apologetic look at her aunt's sharp glance like that was a shield against it. "It's apparently been imbued with wolfsbane."
I graced the pendant with a brief, uneasy look. "So… I'd be a dead wolf, if I were one?"
"You'd transform just from touching it," Auntie Argent informed me dryly, her shark's smile a slit of cruel amusement, "And then, yes. We would kill you."
"Lovely," I passed it back over to Allison, whom I believed this copy actually belonged to and mentally noted never to leave Scott and an Argent in the same area for more than a millisecond. Who knows what else they might have soaked in wolfsbane juice. Was wolfsbane juice even a thing? Could you juice it? Was it the stalk or the leaves or the flower…? I almost opened my mouth to ask, but shook my head at the last second, "Okay, I reiterate: Why are you telling me all this? If you're trying to get recruits, Jackson's much more physically capable than I am."
A frustrated noise then, expelled from the youngest Argent in a breath, "I was worried about you. You and Scott keep hanging around Hale and I still don't know how I feel about Scott right now, but you two need to stay out of this." Her eyes pinned me intensely, "Stay safe."
Oh, yes, ma'am. Right after I pull Scott from the only father figure in his life, strip his furry problem from him with magic waxing techniques, and then ride off into the sunset with him on a beautiful unicorn made of sunbeams and my own hopes and dreams. Yep, right-o. "So, you could've actually just told me to avoid Hale?" I hedged, "Instead of exposing your family secret and the dark supernatural underground of our fair city?"
"You wouldn't have listened to me, though, would you?" Allison pointed out, almost matter-of-factly as she began to calm down.
"Probably not; no," I conceded, trying to sound pensive or regretful or something. Chagrined, maybe.
"Is there… Is there anyway I can help you two?"
Allison looked almost panicked, but Auntie Argent came to the rescue, stepping forward and clapping a hand on my shoulder, "This kind of shit is Argent family shit. You'll help us just staying safe, and out of the line of fire." I nodded, hoping I seemed overwhelmed by all the awesome instead of silently fuming over her 'line of fire' reference and Scott's newest battle scars. Auntie Hunter launched into a dramatic, thankfully short speech on staying away from certain areas and people that ended with her chucking me under the chin and winking before she walked away.
Allison made to walk after her, but paused. Her dark, earnest eyes met mine, "You still owe me one, since you didn't come in time to help me research. I'll think of something."
An internal groan, since I'd kind of hoped she'd forget that, after the track record of bad luck I'd had around her lately. "Heard and understood." I pressed my lips together and shot off a half-joking salute. That earned me a half-smile before she turned and trotted to catch up with her aunt.
This sucks.
I pulled out my cellphone to text Scott that exact sentiment when I remembered it'd still be wherever he'd dropped it. "This really sucks," I amended aloud, turning to go hunt down my werewolves in a non-Argent fashion, when the phone I was holding suddenly rang, obnoxiously loudly, in the middle of a library. "Shit," I flipped it back open and sent a placating look at the librarian manning the return desk, who was looking over her rather stylish glasses at me with the righteous scorning of God. "Hello?" I answered quietly, already out the door and away from disapproving library patrons. Who are you to scold me, you- you uninformed rabble? Sitting safe and comfy in your fancy palace of knowledge with absolutely no clue what was going on under your noses while I dodged arrows and flying werewolves on a weekly basis? Alright, maybe no flying werewolves, and the arrows had been sparse (for me) lately…
"Stiles?"
"Scott?" I echoed in confusion.
"Yeah, I'm on Derek's phone," Scott explained through an ambient noise layer of wind, birdsong, and crunching.
"Well, great; I'll just add his number in under 'Disapproving Father Figure Mark Two' now," I cut in, opening my car door with more force than necessary and dropping myself into the front seat. "Where are you?" I pointed an accusing finger at no one, "And did you know there were more of them?"
"More of who?" Scott said, in a tone I didn't like, which meant he was getting some sort of sick amusement out of me. "And did you know you're on speakerphone?" Well, that explains that damn tone.
"Oh," I returned dumbly, buckling myself in and checking my mirrors. In normal circumstances, I'm a very safe driver; it's just that I hadn't had much luck with the circumstances lately. My phone registered some sort of text or update and beeped loudly in my ear as I worked at getting the engine to start.
"Yeah, oh," Scott giggled. He'd probably say he snickered, or chuckled, or something manly. In any case, he giggled like a little girl who'd pushed someone they liked in the mud without any witnesses and still got to wear the plastic tiara. Maybe I'd had bad experiences with girls when I was younger. "Anyway, we're searching for my cell right now, and I just thought I'd call you since you seemed so worried last time I was incommunicado for any stretch of time."
"Yeah, well, that was today," I reminded him as the engine finally roared to life, "And need I remind you that you got shot during that time?"
"No," Scott retorted firmly, "I'd like to go without reliving that experience for now. You can meet us-" Hale grumbled something, "-me at the northern? -Northern parking lot of Ashview preserve in half an hour."
"You finally answer my first question," I teased absently, plotting out the drive in my head as I left the library parking lot, "But I suppose I didn't have to remind you. Still, it makes me wonder how much attention you pay to what say."
Scott's voice had a smirk in it, "Oh, I tend to pay close attention to anything having to do with your lips."
"Okay, that's enough," Hale's voice was clearer now, and I heard some rustling as the phone traded hands, "Don't besmirch my phone with romance. Say bye to Stiles."
"I love you with the fire of a thousand sun-" Scott began sarcastically before the line cut off.
"Love you, too," I murmured to the dead connection before I could properly realize what I was doing. Sparing the evil cell phone a malevolent glance, I growled, "This is all your fault, somehow," and tossed it into the makeshift back seat to focus on my driving. "Conquer the supervillains first, then your relationships," I reminded myself. When the cell phone business was out of the way, I'd inform the fuzzy ones of the large number of Argents and Allison's recent initiation, and then we'd get back to work trying to determine who the rogue Alpha was.
Solid plan, right?
When I pulled into the northernmost parking lot, I still had ten minutes left to wait until Scott had said he'd be there. Likely, the reason Hale wasn't showing up was unchanged from his previous line of logic; keep the Hunters guessing. It was a big no-no to keep on associating with a known werewolf under the keen eyes of the local supernatural vigilantes. Granted, that hadn't stopped Allison from giving me the benefit of the doubt, nor her aunt from falling for my superior acting capabilities. Actually, the way it was shaping up, I might start pulling double agent duties soon enough. The idea appealed to the five year old inside of me that still whooped when my father turned his sirens on, but terrified the rest of my mature, logical thought process. Which I do have. Stop looking at me like that.
Anyway, the thought of lying point-blank to Allison's face was one I'd obviously had issues with in the past (see: confessing involvement in, and then responsibility for, break up), but the worst part of it would be that the more I spent time around the Argents, the more I'd probably grow to like them. There was the obvious exception of Auntie Argent, but the rest? Even Stony Face Daddy Argent was likely to have his human side, and I didn't want to get to know it. When the shit finally hit the fan, the fact of the matter was I'd chosen my side when I'd figured out Scott's new, doggy life was both real and here to stay, and it already sucked to know Allison was on the opposing side. There was a primal part of me that wanted to call them enemy and beat their heads in with the business end of a shovel, but I couldn't do that if I knew them as people, and that's what it might come down to.
Not literally beating their heads in with a shovel, of course, but maybe some judicious use of violence and the front end of my lovely jeep. I think Auntie Argent and Jackson could be good friends with the front of my jeep, if they really tried to augment their natural assholery for one more day. No; focus. I shook the homicidal musings from my head; it might come down to that, but it hadn't yet, and I'm pretty sure we weren't making a preemptive strike with two werewolves and a human as the one and only squadron in our little army. "Hurry up, Scott," I muttered. Leaving me alone with my thoughts like this was a sure recipe for disaster. My phone made another grab at my attention from the back seat, and I begrudgingly answered my phone. "Hello?"
"Where are you and Scott, Stiles?"
My heart stopped for a just a second before I placed the voice, "Dad! I was just thinking how I hadn't yet heard your dulcet tones yet today-"
"Cut the crap, Stiles. I got a call from Melissa today that Scott hadn't made it to school, and that both of you missed lacrosse practice."
I'd opened my mouth with the intent of falsifying some alibi for Scott, but his last addendum gave me pause. "Coach tells her whether I go to practice or not?"
"If he can't reach me, she's your emergency contact, anyway," my dad said, reaching the end of his patience, "Where are you?"
"In the wilderness," I answered honestly, watching a crow the size of my forearm land on my hood.
"You are so grounded if you think-" I pressed speaker phone and, out the side window, pointed the cell in the direction of the crow, which gave an obliging caw. Turning off speaker phone, I returned the phone to my ear, just missing the pause as he processed. "You're in the wilderness." His tone was flat, not a good sign for my continued freedom and wellbeing, but at least, a sign that he believed me.
"Definitely," I agreed, as if it were his analysis in the first place.
He gave up on that line of questioning relatively easily, "Why did Scott miss school?"
"Pining for his ex," I supplied instantly.
"Didn't he break up with her?" My father asked, displaying the kind of inconvenient observational skills that had made him Sheriff. That probably hadn't been my best lie.
"I don't mean actually pining," I babbled, which, luckily, is my usual explanation mode, "I mean, he's out moping and feeling guilty he broke up with her, and all 'woe is me; I have done the fair maiden ill.'"
"So he skipped school?" My dad was clearly skeptical, but his psychic waves of super-skepticism passing through the car were all that gave it away.
I shrugged instinctively, "Teenagers."
"Teenagers," he repeated in exasperation.
"Now, you're getting it!"