word count: 9,100
polyvore: look for 'sarcasticfina' - check under collections for one named after this story
episode: pilot - "wolf moon" (continued)

iii

The morning after Shiloh's accident saw Malia sitting on a cement block outside of the vet's clinic, waiting on Dr. Deaton to arrive. She'd texted Stiles on the way, letting him know she'd walk to school and would probably be a little late. She was swinging her legs side to side, desperately missing her bed, and trying to tamp down on the worry that had been eating away at her stomach all night. It was strange to be in her room and not hear the familiar sound of Shiloh's snoring or her little paws moving as she no doubt dreamt of chasing something. Her room, her house, her; it all felt a little emptier without Shiloh.

"Malia," a warm voice called. "I wasn't sure I'd see you here this morning. Scott let me know about Shiloh, but our morning hours are so close to school…"

She hopped off the cement block and walked toward him. "I think first period English can survive without me for a little while."

"Well, from what Scott says, it sounds like Shiloh has a break. It's going to take some time to heal and, knowing her, she's going to be a fussy patient. Now, there is an option with things like these…" He opened the clinic door to let her inside first and then followed. "Depending on the dog, if they're too spirited to rest, you can have her stay with us for the first while, until we're sure she won't do more damage to herself. But, if you think you can keep her comfortable and not extend herself too much, then by all means, take her home."

Malia couldn't help but think of the cost around having her stay. She knew Dr. Deaton was a good guy and would do whatever he could to help her out, but she also didn't want to be a burden. Sure, Allison had offered to cover the bills, but she was also relying on her dad to help. And really, it was her fault for not keeping Shiloh leashed at the time of the accident. "Can I take her home and see how she does first? If I don't think I can handle it, then maybe we can reconsider having her stay here."

"That works, too. I'm guessing you won't be able to pick her up until after school, though?"

"Yeah. I just really wanted to see her, make sure she's doing okay."

"That's fine." He smiled. "I need to double check the stint and make sure it's actually a break. I'm not doubting Scott, but it's always good to make sure."

Malia nodded, following him into the exam room. While she waited there, Deaton made his way to the kennels to retrieve Shiloh. She wasn't crying or whimpering as much as she had been the night before, but as soon as she saw Malia, she started wiggling excitedly.

"Hey, girl…" Malia stood at the head of the metal bed, soothingly petting her hands over Shiloh's head. "How're you feeling, huh?"

Shiloh let out a succession of barks and Malia grinned.

"Talkative this morning. I bet you're just mad because you didn't get half my breakfast."

Shiloh's tongue lolled as she panted, staring up at Malia happily.

Meanwhile, Deaton was checking out her leg, carefully probing the area. "I think Scott was right. There is a fracture. I can feel a lump and around the knee joint here. I'm going to take an x-ray to be sure, but I'm pretty positive."

"Is it bad?"

"Why don't we take an x-ray now and put any fears to rest?"

Malia nodded. She stepped back from the table, arms hugged around herself, and waited. Impatience was a key part of her personality, but when worry was added in, it made her jittery. Her knee was jumping as she stood apart, waiting for an answer that might knock her legs right out from under her. What if the break was really bad? What if he said the dreaded— it might be better to put her down? Could Malia do that? If it was a matter of comfort and pain, yes, probably. The last thing she wanted was for Shiloh to be in pain. But, if it was a matter of time and money, then no. She'd just have to find a way to pay for it. Maybe that was idealistic of her, but she just couldn't imagine letting Shiloh go like that.

The x-rays took a few minutes, but eventually, they had their results.

"Okay, so she does have a fracture," Deaton said. "But, from what I'm seeing, it's small and it doesn't need surgery. A splint should be enough for now." At her worried look, he said, "I know it sounds scary, but it could be worse. It hasn't broken through the skin, but it does need to be stabilized so it can heal."

"How long should that take?"

"Anywhere from 6 to 12 weeks." At her grimace, he nodded. "It's not an insignificant amount of time and it will take some getting used to. She's an active dog, she won't like having to rest so much. But, she'll have to."

Malia sighed, her fingers gently combing through Shiloh's fur. "She's gonna be okay, though?"

Deaton smiled. "Absolutely."

Relief flooded her. "Okay. Great. Um, so I'll pick her up later today. I think the boys have a scrimmage. But after that, as soon as possible."

"That's fine." He removed his gloves and tossed them as he added, "I'm surprised your dad isn't here with you. He used to come to all of Shiloh's check ups."

Malia felt a sharp tug in her gut. "Yeah, well, it all happened so late and he was already at work when I got up. He doesn't even know it happened." She waved it off. "I'll tell him later. I don't want to bother him at work."

Deaton stared at her a beat, before nodding. "Okay. Well, we can figure things out when you drop in later today. But, you should get to school. I imagine first period English will benefit from having you."

Half-smiling, she nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Deaton. I appreciate it."

"It's no problem, Malia. Have a nice day, and I'll see you later."

With a wave, she left the exam room and made her way to the front. The 'closed' sign was still turned in the door window as she walked outside. Checking her phone for the time, she cursed. She really was going to be late.

Honk!

Malia looked up, a slow grin forming as she saw Stiles sitting in his jeep, waving at her through the window. "Hurry up!"

Rolling her eyes, she jogged across the parking lot and hopped into the jeep, closing the door gently behind her. "Hey. What're you doing here?"

"Maybe I'm just a good friend looking out for your education." He put the jeep in reverse and looked over his shoulder as he backed up.

"Uh-huh. Why are you really here?"

Pulling out onto the road, Stiles said, "I thought you might wanna talk. I know you said you didn't last night, but I don't know. Maybe it was too fresh then."

Malia's appreciation for the ride dwindled. Her eyes narrowed and she squinted, staring out the window, her lips pursed. "It's not a big deal. So, Scott has a date with a really nice girl who ran over my dog..."

Stiles snorted. "Sounds even worse when you put it that way."

She sighed. "It's dumb. I don't even know when I started liking him like this. It'll go away. I'm just being weird."

"Or… you've felt like this for a while and you just didn't realize it. And now that you have, it'll only get worse."

"Great, thanks for being my early morning buzzkill."

Stiles merely grinned. "All I'm saying is, this isn't the worst thing."

"How? I have a crush on my best friend—"

He cleared his throat pointedly.

"—one of my best friends—"

"Thank you."

"—and he has a crush on someone else." She shook her head. "That's the definition of 'suck.'"

"It's a definition, yeah. But, I mean, who even is this girl?" He tossed a hand in the air. "Huh? How do we even know it'll last?"

"You didn't see how he looked at her…" She sunk lower in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "There were little cartoon hearts dancing around his stupid, floppy head."

"So, it's puppy love… Heh, literally. There was a dog involved and everything."

"Shut up," she muttered.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe they don't work out. Or maybe he wakes up and realizes what's right in front of him. You don't know."

She shot him the side-eye, unconvinced. "I know you're trying to be supportive, but how about something more constructive? Like, how to get over somebody."

"Uh… I don't know if you've noticed, but I am not the guy to ask that. I've had a crush on Lydia Martin since like, kindergarten. And I don't think it's going anywhere anytime soon."

Malia sighed. "Then I'll just suffer silently."

"Not totally silently." He reached over and gripped her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I meant what I said. If you ever wanna talk…"

Despite herself, she smiled faintly. "I know. And I appreciate it."

His hand flipped up, pressed against her forehead. "You appreciate it? Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

Slapping his hand away, she glared, but there was no heat in it.

Stiles just laughed.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of the school just as the second bell was ringing and had to race inside to get their seats. Scott stared at them, brow furrowed, but they merely shrugged. They'd tell him about the vet visit at break.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Stilinski, Miss. Tate," the teacher said, his tone sharp.

"Glad to be here," Stiles said in return.

With a sigh, the teacher returned to his lesson, and Malia dug her books out to get to work, pointedly not looking at Scott, even though she could feel his gaze lingering on the side of her face.

…

"Malia, hey!"

Walking down the hallway, Malia slowed her steps and turned to see a nervous Allison approaching her. "Hey," she greeted, waiting for her to catch up before continuing on her way.

"Hey." Allison wrinkled her nose. "I already said that. Sorry, I guess I'm nervous."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What about?"

"Well, less than 24 hours ago, I ran your dog over. That's not exactly a great basis for friendship."

Malia shrugged. "It's fine. I checked in this morning. She's gonna be okay. Her leg is definitely broken, but it's not too bad. Some rest and a lot of treats and she'll be back to golden in no time."

Allison let out a gust of air in relief. "Good! I'm really glad to hear that."

"Yeah. Me, too." She pushed the front door open and skipped down the stairs.

Allison followed after her, tugging at the strings on her bag. "I- I'm not bugging you. Am I?"

Shaking her head, Malia pulled her backpack of her shoulder. "Nope. I was just gonna have lunch out here."

"Cool." She nodded and followed Malia over to a tree, taking a seat in the grass and pulling out her own packed lunch. "At my old school, we basically lived off cafeteria food. And not the good kind either."

"There's good cafeteria food?"

She snorted a laugh. "You'd be surprised. I've come across it a few times."

Malia raised an eyebrow as she started peeling an orange. "How many cafeterias have you tested?"

"Too many. We move around a lot because of my dad's job. Doesn't exactly make for an easy school experience."

"I bet, just when you're making friends you have to start all over."

Allison nodded while she popped the lid off a container with her sandwich in it. "What about you?" she wondered, picking off the top piece of bread to check the pickles inside were properly lined up.

"It's always been Beacon Hills. I think we lived in another county when I was really little, but we moved here before I started kindergarten. So, same school, same faces. Mostly. Every once in a while, we get new people."

"That must be nice. Always knowing everybody." She took a bite out of the corner of her sandwich, pressing her hand to her mouth to wipe away any excess crumbs.

"Sometimes. But just because we know each other doesn't mean we like each other…" She looked off to the side, watching Jackson and Danny walk down the path toward the parking lot.

Danny caught sight of her and nodded in hello. Malia returned the sentiment before turning back to Allison.

"I know Jackson," Allison said. "He's with Lydia. But I don't know the other guy."

"Danny Mahealani. He's on the lacrosse team, too. Nice guy."

She nodded. "I guess lacrosse is kind of a big deal out here."

"Probably more than it needs to be." Malia shrugged. "Every school has it's thing, I guess. It's like Beacon Hills' version of high stakes football."

"Yeah." Allison's nose wrinkled as she let out a laugh. "I think I prefer football."

Malia laughed. "I run track, so I'd trade both. But, Scott and Stiles seem to like it, so." She shrugged. "You won't catch me waving pom-pom's, but I do go to the games to support them."

"That's cool." Allison picked at her sandwich. "Stiles is the guy that's always with Scott, right?"

"Yeah, they're best friends. More like brothers, really. He's a total goofball." She grinned affectionately. "They both are."

"I kind of envy you." Allison's brow furrowed. "I wish I had friends like that. I try to keep in touch with people after we move but it's hard. Life keeps going when you're gone, you know?"

"Well, you'll just have to make the best of how long you're here." Malia tossed over a bag of cookies for them to share. "You seem to be getting along with Lydia."

"Yeah… I like her. I mean, she's a little…"

"Aggressive?"

"Yes." She laughed. "I don't know. I like it. She really knows who she is and that's… admirable. But it can be a little much. Sometimes I get overwhelmed."

"I get it. Lydia's picky about who she hangs out with, which means she really likes you."

Allison perked up. "You think?"

"Sure. I mean, most of my friends are boys, but it can't be that different. Besides, I've been going to school with Lydia since I was five. She's not shy about what she wants and it looks like she really wants your friendship."

Speaking of…

"There you are!" Lydia Martin came marching down the stairs and stalked over to Malia and Allison, one hand on her hip. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I even checked the second-floor bathrooms." Her nose wrinkled and shuddered. "Never again."

Perplexed, Allison sent a confused look in Malia's section.

"They smell funny and they haven't been remodeled since the 80's. Most of the stoners hang out there because people generally avoid them. Everybody else just uses the main floor bathrooms."

"Right." Lydia glanced at Malia and then back to Allison slowly. "Why are we hanging out with Terrible Tate?"

"Lydia!" Allison stared up at her with wide eyes.

"What? I didn't give her the nickname!"

"It's fine. I kind of like it." Malia grinned. "I like the sense of infamy it gives."

"See?" Lydia motioned to her. "Now can we go?"

"I'm eating." Allison motioned to her sandwich.

With a huff, Lydia tapped her foot, but when Allison didn't look like she was going to move, she gave in. "Fine." Taking her purse off her shoulder, Lydia carefully took a seat in the grass, tucking her legs underneath her and smoothing out her dress. She reached out and stole one of the cookies from the bag, taking a bite and brushing off the crumbs as they fell in her lap. "So, there's another scrimmage after school. First elimination is this Friday so we have to go."

Malia hummed. "Because your presence will definitely decide who gets cut."

Lydia glared at her. "No… But first-string mimics the social hierarchy. That means that a whole new group of somebodies are about to get their chance in the spotlight. And you…" Lydia turned to Allison, "will have your pick of the very best."

Allison stared at her, a little wide-eyed. "I… What?"

"What what?" Lydia shook her head dismissively. "You're not dating anyone, right? Because long-distance relationships are so passé."

"The passést," Malia snarked.

Lydia ignored her. "C'mon. We can double date!"

Allison filled her mouth with sandwich so as not to answer and Malia grinned. She leaned back against her the tree and continued to eat, listening with half an ear as Lydia talked about all the boys she was pretty sure would make first cut seeing as they had a good season last year, those who might go either way, and those who definitely wouldn't make it.

Eventually, Malia couldn't help herself. "What about Scott and Stiles?"

Lydia looked at her, brow furrowed.

"Scott was in goal yesterday," Allison reminded her.

"Oh, right. Him…" She hummed. "He might make it. If he keeps it up."

"And Stiles?"

Lydia pulled a face. "What the hell is a Stiles?"

Malia took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, rolling her eyes in the process. "I just remembered I have somewhere to be." Standing, she dusted the seat of her shorts off and grabbed up her bag. "Later, Allison. Lydia."

"Mm!" Allison swallowed what was in her mouth and turned at the waist, following Malia as she left. "You should sit with us later, at the scrimmage." She winced then as Lydia pinched her. "Ow."

Malia waved a hand. "Yeah, maybe," she said, before going.

"What part of Terrible Tate did you not get?" Lydia asked in a mock-whisper.

"What's so wrong with her? I like her."

"She's weird. She always has been. Ever since her family died in that freaky car accident."

"What?" Allison squeaked. "That's awful!"

"Yeah. Anyway, she totally lost it after that. She snapped and beat up this boy. He was in the hospital for like, a week…"

Malia clenched her teeth but kept walking, climbing the steps two at a time and making her way inside the school. Lydia wasn't wrong. When Malia was ten, after her mom and sister died, she'd been a mess. She had no idea how to deal with their deaths or the guilt she was carrying. She'd been fighting with Kylie before they left. Enough that her mom got mad at her and told her she could stay home if she wasn't going to smarten up. Angry, Malia had yelled at them that she hoped they'd just die, and then she ran off to her room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't mean it. She loved them. She was just upset and it came out; as soon as it had, she wanted to take it back. But Malia was stubborn and full of pride, so she hadn't. Later that same night, a police officer showed up at the door to inform her dad what had happened. Malia watched him sink to the ground and sob; she watched him shatter right in front of her, and she wasn't sure he ever really mended.

Malia didn't go back to school for a couple weeks; she barely left her room. She sat in her closet, clutching one of Kylie's favorite teddy bears, and just cried. But eventually, her dad told her it was time to go back, to find some kind of normality in things. She begged him not to make her, but her dad wouldn't let her stay home even one more day. Malia sat in class but didn't engage. She just stared out the window, shoulders slumped, wishing things were different. The bell rang and she followed the other kids out for recess, taking a seat on a bench and isolating herself from the others. Kids could be cruel. She knew this first hand. She wasn't sure what it was she did or why they suddenly turned their attention to her. But one second she was all alone, lost in her thoughts, and the next there was a boy taunting her. It was stupid playground insults. Just a dumb boy trying to look cool for his friends. Malia didn't bother responding. She didn't care what they thought of her or what they said.

But then someone brought up her mom.

"She probably died 'cause you're so ugly and she didn't want to look at you."

Just a dumb, meaningless, effortlessly cruel jab. It wasn't a matter of ugly or not. That hardly hurt her feelings. But the use of her mother… Her beautiful, loving, caring mom, who she'd told to die just hours before she'd done exactly that. It was like a flame to a wick. One minute, Malia was content to walk away from their stupid words, and the next she was tackling that boy to the ground, her tiny hand balled up into a fist, hitting him over and over and over again. He cried and struggled and that just made her madder. She grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him, screaming in his face with all the hurt and pain and rage that had been building up since she realized she'd lost them.

It was a teacher that pulled her off him, banding their arms around her waist as she kicked and screamed, fists waving wildly. And she saw it— that stark fear in the other kids faces. That moment when they all decided that she was wrong and off and strange. The nickname came later, after her suspension ended and she was allowed back to school. After the boy she beat up was released from the hospital (it was two days, not a week, but still), his face black and blue with bruises, his broken nose taped up.

"Terrible Tate," they said. Just whispers at first, mumbled between themselves, behind their hands and between their giggles. It followed her from elementary school to middle school and even now, to high school. Not with the same fear it once held, even if she'd kicked a few boys in the balls over the years. Instead, now it was a label, a reminder to others that Malia Tate wasn't like them and she never would be. She'd accepted that a long time ago. Even wrapped herself in the notion like a security blanket. She didn't want to be like them. She was perfectly okay being exactly who she was. Fuck the rest.

…

Malia was late in getting to the lacrosse field; halfway there, her phone had rung and she'd slowed to dig it out of her pocket. Seeing her dad's face on the screen, she frowned but thumbed the Answer button. "Hello?"

Without preamble, her father said, "Malia, why didn't you tell me Shiloh got hurt the other night?"

"I didn't really have a chance. You were sleeping when I got home and gone when I woke up…" She hugged an arm around her waist and kicked aimlessly at the ground. "Anyway, I took care of it. Deaton said it's a small break. She doesn't need surgery or anything."

He sighed. "How much is this going to cost?"

Malia's heart lurched. "Does it matter?"

"Honey, you know I love Shiloh, but money is tight right now."

She ground her teeth. "Look, it's not a big deal. She was clipped by a car and the owner offered to pay the bills. Even if they can't, I'll take care of it. She's my dog. You don't have to worry about this."

"I'm not saying I won't help. I'm just trying to be realistic—"

"I'm not putting her down, dad. She— She's family. And she's going to be perfectly fine, so just drop it."

"Malia—"

"I said drop it," she growled, hanging up the phone.

A wave of anger washed over her, heat racing through her veins. A sudden burst of noise filled her ears; overlapped voices, the sharp ring of a whistle, and what sounded like— a pounding heartbeat? Malia rubbed her hands over her face and dragged a deep breath in through her nose.

In a whisper, she said the words that had gotten her through countless panic attacks in the past. "She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness. She rules her life like a fine skylark and when the sky is starless. All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind. Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

Malia's fondest memory of her mother was the mornings she'd wake her up early and they'd make breakfast together. Malia, clad in her pajamas, would dance around the kitchen while her mother sang along to Fleetwood Mac, using her spatula like a microphone. Her mother had the most beautiful voice. Sure, Malia was biased, but she could hear it so clearly in her head sometimes and it never failed to calm her.

The noise ebbed, the fire in her veins calmed, and she was left with nothing but her hand clenched against her chest, dug in against her skin as if to cage her heart.

A distant whistle reminded her that the scrimmage was still happening. Malia turned to look out toward the lacrosse field before eventually walking in a different direction. It wasn't that she thought her dad would go over her head and tell Deaton to put Shiloh down. He wouldn't be that cruel. But now that the idea was in her head, she wanted to see her. Which was why she left the school and caught a bus that would drop her off just down the street from the vet clinic.

Deaton looked up when she walked through the door, glancing at the clock briefly. "You're earlier than I expected."

"Yeah, well, something came up. Can I see her?"

"Of course." He looked past her to the door. "Do you have a ride to bring her home with you?"

"Not yet. Stiles is at lacrosse practice still." She followed Deaton through the clinic to the kennels at the back. "Was she okay today?"

"Shiloh's one of my best patients. Broken leg or not, she's still one of the most well-behaved dogs I've met. Excitable, but well trained."

Malia smiled. She'd spent a lot of time with Shiloh, working on commands and tricks. It was half the reason she didn't bother leashing her most of the time.

Half-asleep in her kennel, Shiloh wiggled around as soon as Malia came into view.

"Hey, girl." Malia crouched down and opened the metal door, reaching inside to rub her hand down Shiloh's back.

"Malia, I know it's not any of my business, but… Is everything okay with you?"

She didn't answer right away, keeping her gaze on Shiloh, who melted under the focused attention of her owner. "Yeah, I'm all right. It's just been a weird few days."

"I heard about the body they found in the woods… Pretty intense, especially for these parts."

"Yeah." She chewed her lip and then leaned back on her haunches. "Hey, do you know anything about wolves?"

"Wolves?" He stared at her a beat, a brow raised. "I can't say I've had many as patients. Was there something specific you wanted to ask?"

"No, just… I was in the woods not so long ago and I swore I saw one. Heard it howl and everything."

"And you're sure it wasn't a coyote?"

"No. Too big for a coyote." She shook her head. "This one was different. They way it moved. It was like…" It was like it was aware in a way that many animals weren't. For the most part, animals in the preserve kept their distance from the walking paths, having become accustomed to humans and the noise they made. There were always sightings, of course, but most animals were smart enough to stay away from anything that might result in their own death. But this wolf… Or whatever it was… There was just something different about it. Like it had gone looking for them. "Do wolves eat deer?"

"When we did have wolves in California, they were gray wolves, and they'd eat white-tailed deer when they could find them."

"Would they chase a whole herd?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "It's not uncommon for a prey-animal to chase herds and pick off the slowest."

"What about humans? Will they chase humans?"

"Generally, wolves avoid humans. Most prey-animals will unless they're starving or their territory is being invaded. Any wolves around these parts would have a steady diet of rabbits, nutria, and raccoons. While I wouldn't say the chances of a wolf attacking a human is impossible, I would say it's more likely that they'd look for food elsewhere."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure. Anytime." He stared at her searchingly. "I have a patient coming in soon. Do you mind staying back here with Shiloh alone? I'll let Stiles back when you're ready to go."

"That'd be great!"

Deaton smiled before turning on his heel to leave.

Alone, Malia turned her attention back to Shiloh, who was drifting back to sleep. Leaning forward, she rested an elbow on her knee and continued to pet her. All the while, her mind couldn't stop wondering what it was that was out in the preserve and why it seemed so hostile.

…

"Hey!"

Startled, Malia looked up to find Stiles lingering in the doorway, shoulder resting against the jamb. "Hey," she greeted, pushing herself up to stand. "Scrimmage end early?"

His brow furrowed. "No, it ended late. You've been here for like, two hours."

Digging out her phone, she checked the time and winced in surprise. "I was distracted."

"Must've been." He walked further into the room and over to the kennel. "You want some help with her?"

"No, I've got her." Bending once more, she carefully lifted Shiloh out of the kennel and carried her through the clinic to the front.

There, a man stood talking with Dr. Deaton. He was handsome for his age, with sharp blue eyes, blond hair, and a five o'clock shadow across his dimpled chin.

"You must be Malia," he said with a smile.

Malia frowned, looking from him to Deaton.

"Malia, this is Chris Argent. He came by to settle the bill for Shiloh. He said his daughter was driving when she was hit."

"She's really sorry. She's actually been pretty shaken up about it." Chris kept his attention on Malia. "I know it's not much, but I'm hoping it's enough. The good doctor said that Shiloh here won't need surgery, is that right?"

Malia nodded. She wasn't sure why, but there was an unsettled feeling growing in her gut. "Yeah," she said, her voice a little croaky. "Just a lot of rest and a stint and she should be okay."

"Great." Chris' smile widened. "Well, I hope you won't hold this against Allison. She's a good person who just made a mistake. She really does feel terrible."

"It's fine," Malia said. "No harm, no foul."

He nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Malia stared at him a beat longer and then turned to Stiles. "We should go. I've got homework."

"Of course, I don't want to keep you any longer." Chris stepped out of the way so they could pass. "It was nice meeting you, Malia."

"Yeah, you, too." She walked a little faster to get to the door, pausing to call back a thank you to Deaton before she hurried outside.

"Whoa, what's with the Road Runner routine? Why are we in such a hurry?" Stiles ran ahead to open the door so she could slide Shiloh onto the backseat.

"Nothing. Let's just go." Her nerves felt tight and jittery and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was just an overload of everything. Between the animal attack, Scott's new crush, and Shiloh's accident, she felt overwhelmed by the influx of change. Yeah, that seemed logical. Hopping into the front seat of the jeep, she waited impatiently for Stiles to get in on the other side.

Not the least bit nervous, he took his time, digging his keys out of his pocket and flipping through them for the right one.

Malia barely restrained herself from grabbing the keys out of his hand and jabbing the right one into the ignition.

Finally, he found it on his own, started the jeep, and pulled away from the parking lot. The more distance between her and the clinic— or was it Argent?— the more at ease Malia felt.

"So, hey, I was thinking we could pick up something for dinner. Scott's at the hospital, dropping off something for his mom. Maybe we could just grab some take-out, hang out at your place for a bit? Whattya say?"

She nodded. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good."

"Cool. So, Chinese then? Or…?"

She nodded, her gaze on the mirror, staring back at the clinic parking lot. "Yeah, whatever you want…"

Stiles yammered on about something or other, but Malia's focus stayed on the clinic, growing smaller and smaller in the mirror until they turned a corner and it was gone from her sight entirely. A cool feeling of relief rushed though her and she let out a quiet sigh. She wasn't sure what that was, but she was glad it was over.

…

For the next two days, Malia spent much of her time alone, often at home with Shiloh. She wasn't entirely sure if she was using Shiloh as an excuse or not. What she was sure of was that she was purposely not answering Scott's texts and avoiding Allison in the halls. The Allison thing she blamed on the whole 'Terrible Tate' situation. As much as they seemed to get along during their lunch break, she found herself wondering if Lydia's opinion and somewhat inaccurate retelling of the origins of her nickname might impact Allison enough to keep her distance as well. This way, if she avoided Allison, she didn't have to find out. It became a matter of her deciding not to have anything to do with Allison. Was it stupid? Probably. But she kept doing it.

Sprawled out on her couch at home, Malia was halfway through a pint of Cherry Garcia while she watched a re-run of Vampire Diaries. Every week she tuned in and every week she was disappointed to find Bonnie Bennett being sidelined. She rolled her eyes at the overly dramatic romance plots and cheered on the underdog that was Bonnie Bennett in all things.

Stiles texted her halfway through the episode to complain. — 'this is the episode that Grams dies in, right? what a drag! what's the point in knowing everything about the occult if they're just gonna off you?'

Malia sighed, dropping her spoon back into the carton to thumb back a response. — 'systemic racism. also, you'd be the grams in our friend group, you know that right?'

— 'what? no way. i'm not getting killed off in season one! i'm a full series type character!'

— 'well, your white privilege might keep you on the show, but lets be real, you're the one with a head for weird stuff' She added a dead emoji face for emphasis.

— 'i both resent and resemble that!' He added a second text — 'which one are you?'

She snorted. — 'the smart one that leaves town and doesn't send postcards!'

— 'liar. you'd never leave us behind.'

Malia half-smiled. — 'guess that makes me bonnie then.'

— 'could be worse'

Malia watched as Elena begged Bonnie to save Stefan, regardless of the cost, and felt her stomach twist. — 'yeah, it could'

— 'hey so are we gonna talk about real life anytime soon? like how you're avoiding scott and maybe possibly even allison?'

She frowned. — 'since when are you and allison bffs?'

— 'hardly! but you and me are. i'm not dumb. i've seen you walk in the other direction as soon as you spot her in the halls. she's gonna notice eventually'

She shoved another bite of ice cream in her mouth. — 'i'm not allowed to be mad at the dog runner-over?'

'you said you didn't blame her. it's about scott, right?' When she didn't answer right away, he added another— 'malia? you can't hide from this forever.'

— 'i'm not hiding' She sighed. 'i'm healing. i just need some time away from it. to get over all of it. is that too much to ask?'

— 'no. i'm just worried about you.'

— 'stiles, i'm fine. i promise, okay?'

— 'pinky swear?'

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth. 'pinky swear'

A sudden rattling noise echoed through the house then, startling Malia where she sat. Shiloh lifted her head from her doggy bed, ears perked, and looked toward the door. Putting her ice cream aside, Malia crossed the floor on her tip-toes, as if being quiet might keep whoever was at her house at 9:30 at night from realizing she was there. Her dad had taken off earlier; he hadn't given an excuse, but Malia had an idea of where'd be. There was a bar he frequented, especially on days they were fighting. But he wouldn't have knocked. Meaning whoever was outside—

"Malia?"

Her racing heartbeat abruptly started to slow. Scott.

Dropping her heels down to the floor, she swung the door open and poked her head out. "Did you ride your bike all the way out here?"

He shrugged. "It's not that far."

"It's not exactly close either." She pushed the screen door open and stepped forward, searching his face. "You could've called."

"Would you have answered?"

She frowned. "I've just been busy lately."

"Yeah, I noticed." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Look, I don't want to bother you, but… I feel like something is going on lately."

Her pulse skittered worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, ever since that night in the woods, when I got bit, things have been weird. I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear, and smell. I do things that should be impossible, I'm sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!"

Malia's brow furrowed. "You sleep-walked into the woods?"

"Yes!" He tossed a hand up as his shoulders slumped. "I know Stiles thinks it's funny and he keeps making all these werewolf jokes, but… I'm scared." His face fell as he looked up at her, vulnerable in a way she didn't often see. "What if it's serious?"

Malia shook her head. Reaching out, she hooked her fingers in the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him inside. "You got your rabies shot, right?"

"Yeah, we have some at work. I took one the next morning." He followed her into the living room and plopped down onto the couch. "Hey, Cherry Garcia!" He grinned.

With a roll of her eyes, she handed him the ice cream and sat back against the arm of the couch, legs crossed under her. "Well, how is the bite healing? Does it stink or anything? Like, infection?"

He paused, spoon dangling from his mouth, and looked away. "That's the thing…" He put the ice cream aside and stood from the couch. Pulling his sweater up, he angled himself to show her his side, where smooth brown skin greeted her.

Malia reached out, her fingers gently grazing the exact spot where the gruesome bite had been, only to find unblemished skin. Scott jumped as her fingers made contact and she quickly recoiled, drawing her hand back into her lap. Frowning, she said, "That's not possible. It should've taken weeks for it to heal. Maybe even months, depending how deep the teeth went."

"I know!" He flopped back down beside her, taking up the ice cream once more and filling his mouth with an oversized bite. "I'm a freak."

Rolling her eyes, she stole the spoon from him and took a bite of her own. "There's gotta be a logical reason for this… Have you thought about asking your mom or Deaton?"

"And tell them what? That I was looking for a dead body in the woods, was bitten by some weird animal, have no injuries to prove it, and now I'm in better health than I've ever been?" He shook his head. "I haven't had to use my inhaler all week! My reflexes are better. I'm kicking ass at lacrosse. I really think I'm going to make first-line. And yeah, the hearing and the smelling thing is weird and it comes and goes, but… I mean, it's not the worst thing."

She stared at him a moment. "Okay, then what's the problem?"

"I just… I feel like something big is going to happen. Like this is just the build-up and something a lot worse is coming."

With a quiet sigh, she reached for him, her hand folding around is forearm. "Well, if it does, then we'll deal with it."

He sent her a lopsided smile and slumped back against her couch. "Thanks."

"Sure."

He turned his attention to the TV then and frowned. "That vampire show?"

She glanced at the screen. "Yeah."

"I thought you hated this show."

"I don't hate it…"

"You're always complaining about it."

"That's because I'm invested." She glared at him. "Shut up."

He hummed, amused, and held out a bite of ice cream.

Malia leaned over to eat it, licking the spoon clean as she went.

He watched her, his eyes hooded and a small smile upturning his lips. Clearing his throat, he returned his attention to the TV. "So, who's that?"

"Bonnie Bennett. She's a witch."

"Cool."

Malia settled back against the couch and hid her smile. Scott stayed for the rest of the episode before eventually admitting he should probably head home, since they didn't actually live all that close, even with a bike, and he had to get some studying in before bed.

Malia followed him to the door, where they paused for a moment.

Scott stared past her shoulder to Shiloh, resting on her bed still. "She's gonna be okay?"

Malia looked back at her dog with her broken leg and the brace that would help her mend. "Yeah. She will be." When she looked back, Scott's gaze was centered on her face. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

He smiled goofily. "It's gonna be a good day. I can feel it."

"First-line and then a date." She nodded and crossed her arms. "Life's looking up, huh?"

He ducked his head. "It wasn't terrible before, you know?"

"No. But, this is good. I'm happy for you." She took a deep breath. "You deserve this."

"It's just a game, right?" He started walking backwards down the porch. "And one date."

"Yeah." She watched him go, her chest feeling tight. "Or it's just the start."

His brows furrowed for a beat, but then he smiled. "Night, Lia."

"Night," she said quietly.

She watched him make his way down the stairs to grab his bike, waving to her before he rode off down the bumpy dirt road. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her.

Shiloh's tail thumped loudly against the floor and Malia walked to her, crouching down to pet her. "I've still got you, hey, Shi?"

Shiloh rolled onto her back and nuzzled Malia's hand.

Malia scrubbed her fingers over Shiloh's ears and told herself this was enough. She was totally happy with this. But even though tomorrow felt like a beginning for Scott, she couldn't help but feel like it was an ending, too.

…

The school day was halfway over and Malia was already eager to call it quits. Standing at her locker, she put her books away on the top shelf and replaced them with the next period's. Shiloh had spent much of the night whining. Apparently, she'd gotten more than enough sleep during the day and was content to share her boredom with Malia as loudly and mournfully as she could. Malia didn't actually fall into a fitful sleep until around 2 am, which meant that all she could think of the whole morning was how good a nap sounded.

Closing her locker door, she jumped as she found Allison standing on the other side of it, half-smiling at her. "Hey."

Malia glanced away and then back. "Uh, hey." She locked her locker and hooked her bag over her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure we don't have History together…"

"No, I've got French next." Allison hugged her books to her chest. "Listen, I— I just wanted to apologize for what Lydia said. I know she can be a little abrasive and it probably sucks to hear people call you that… strange nickname."

"It's whatever." Malia shrugged. "Lydia and I aren't friends; she doesn't owe me anything."

"No, but… I kind of felt like maybe we could be, so I don't want something she said to get in the way of that." She stared at Malia searchingly. "I don't know your history and you don't have to tell me. But, I liked hanging out with you the other day."

"Are you sure this isn't some weird pity thing because you ran my dog over?"

A smile stretched across her face. "If anything it's the opposite. I feel awful about that, which actually kind of makes me want to run in the opposite direction every time I see you. Purely out of embarrassment."

"She's back home now and she's healing. I, uh, met your dad, actually. He dropped by the clinic to pay the bill. Thanks for that."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "He didn't tell me you met. He kind of grounded me after the whole thing. But, he was glad I took responsibility, so it was really more like a two-day scolding, if anything."

Malia nodded. "That's good. At least you won't miss the party tonight."

"Right." Her face lit up. "I'm looking forward to that. Believe it or not, I didn't get invited to a whole lot of parties in the past."

"No?" They started down the hall together. "Why?"

"New school, I tend to keep my distance. Everybody always has their groups already, you know? It's hard to find a place in that. So, I do my own thing. I tried joining clubs before, like photography or archery or journalism. Only one stuck."

"Let me guess, archery." Malia raised an impressed eyebrow. "Cool."

Allison nodded. "Yeah, well. I took gymnastics too, for like eight years. But not a lot of schools have clubs for that."

Malia grinned. "Me, too. My mom got me into it when I was little. I haven't been in a while, though."

"Yeah? Then they have a gym around here? Maybe we could go together sometime. We'll both be rusty, so it won't be completely embarrassing."

With a nod, Malia said, "I could be up for that."

"Cool!" Allison tried and failed to subdue her smile. "So, uh, are you going to the party tonight, too?"

Malia had considered it. After all, Danny had invited her to go. But, the more she thought about it, the less enthused she was. Watching Scott fumble endearingly in front of Allison the whole night was not something she saw herself enjoying. It'd be much more fun to stay home, watch TV, and veg out. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet. Shiloh's stuck at home alone all day already and it's been a long and weird week, so…"

"Oh." Allison nodded, looking disappointed. "Well, if you change your mind, we should hang out. I'll pretty much only know three people there."

"Yeah, if I do, I'll find you."

"Great." Allison paused by a door. "This is me. But… See you later?"

"Yeah. Later." As Allison stepped through the door, Malia continued down the hall, en route for History. Despite how awkward she often felt around Allison, there was a part of Malia that really liked her. She was nice and down to earth. It was kind of refreshing. A logical part of her couldn't help but point out that if things really did work out between Allison and Scott, then it was probably smart to befriend her. If she was going to be hanging around more, then what was the harm in getting to know her?

…

Malia groaned as she stared down at the math work spread in front of her.

Amused, Danny merely sat back in his chair, hands stacked together on his chest. "It's not that hard. And I know you can do it, because I've seen you do it."

"A rare and unrepeatable miracle."

His mouth hitched up. "Malia, you study harder than any other person I've tutored. You're not hopeless."

"My math teacher would definitely disagree." She tapped her pencil against the papers in front of her. "Remind me again what I need math for?"

"It's a long list." He sat forward in his seat. "Hey, so you never said if you were coming to the party tonight?"

"Is there a cap I'm not aware of? Will I be told to go home if you've reached full capacity?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. And Lydia's hosting. Anyway, that was my polite way of asking if you're going to drag your boring ass out of the house and trade your sweat pants in for something that might actually get you laid."

"Hey! I dress for comfort."

"I can see that. Your sweater is the same color as this morning's bowel movement."

"Ew." She grimaced. "And totally uncalled for, by the way. I love this sweater."

Danny shook his head. "All I'm saying is that you can't expect to catch anybody's eye if you're walking around looking like you just rolled out of bed."

"Who said I wanted to catch anyone's eye? In fact, if I remember correctly, I've made a habit of doing the exact opposite."

"Yeah." His brows hiked. "Hiding between McCall and Stilinski has helped you keep a low profile. But, do you really want to spend the rest of high school playing wingman to them?"

"I'm not—"

"Look, Malia, I like you. You're honest and funny and yeah, you're smart, too. This whole 'Terrible Tate' stuff should've died back in primary school. Everybody knows that Kyle made fun of your mom. It was a dick move and really, he deserved the broken nose. But this couldn't-care-less attitude you use like a wall, it's going to hold you back."

Malia wasn't sure what to say. It felt like a weight had tied itself to her tongue, unwilling to let her use it.

"I'm not going to be the clichéd gay that takes you shopping and gives you some over-the-top makeover. That's not me. But, I am going to invite you, again, to come to the party tonight. Wear the brown sweater if you love it so much, just get out of your comfort zone and see what happens."

Drawing a deep breath, she slumped back in her chair. "Fine."

Danny slowly grinned. "Yeah?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Your semi-insulting pep talk worked. Happy?"

"Yes. Now…" He reached over and tapped the papers in front of her. "Let's get to work."

Malia groaned, but leaned forward and plucked up a pencil.

…

Across town, while Scott and Stiles were attempting to make first line, Malia was just leaving a store, holding a bag with a new outfit that was neither 'bowel' brown nor incredibly comfortable. But, it would work. She wasn't a dress or skirt kind of person; she much preferred her shorts. But she could trade in her usual tank top and cardigan for something a little more… attention-getting for one night.

Malia was making her way to a nearby coffee store when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Digging it out, she pressed answer and raised it to her ear. "Shouldn't you be playing lacrosse right now?"

"We just finished," Stiles answered. "Scott kicked an insane amount of ass. I don't know where he learned that level of gymnastics, but he killed it! He made first-line!"

She grinned. "Good for him."

"Yeah, yeah, it's great, but listen. You remember the fibers they found on the body?"

"Half the body, but yeah. I think you mentioned it."

"Yeah, so, they sent it off to a lab in LA and the analysis came back…"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Pause for effect over."

"It was animal hairs! You guys were right, it was from a wolf."

She paused her stride, her brow furrowed. "But you said…"

"I know what I said. But, I was wrong. Or you two are the first to stumble on the only wolf to wander back to California. Either way, this is big."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because. I know I've been making jokes, but seriously, his reflexes are crazy. He keeps saying he can smell weird things, like things he shouldn't be able to smell from so far away. And his asthma is like gone. I don't just mean 'not as bad as usual,' I mean it's gone."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, of course, but… Okay, you'll think I'm crazy but I've got a theory…"

"I'm listening."

"What if he really is a werewolf?"

Malia scoffed. "Stiles… You know he's worried about whatever bit him. It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be! I really think something's going on. Look, just— I'm going to do some research and I'll get back to you. But consider this, okay…? Tonight is the full moon and you know what happens then?"

"The crazies come out?"

"Yes. And so do the werewolves."

Malia was pretty sure he hung up on her more for effect than anything. Shaking her head, she continued on her way, stopping at the coffee shop to pick up a cup to go before she made her way to the bus stop. She wanted to get home, shower, and start getting ready for this party. And she very much wanted to forget what Stiles had said, even if the very idea of it had caused a layer of goosebumps to break out across her skin that refused to go away. It couldn't possibly be true. Werewolves didn't exist.

Right?

tbc

author's note: i'm still bitter about tvd, can you tell? anyway, i'm posting this early mostly because i'm so excited about this story and also the response i've been getting has been really encouraging! i'll likely stick to weekends after this, but we'll see! i currently have 60k more written and am writing more each day, so there's a ton more to read. :)

next chapter finally digs into the werewolf of it all! and also, DEREK! plus a whole lot of really sweet scott/malia moments and scott/stiles/malia friendship. yayyy!

thanks for reading, please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina