The Moon. It means a lot of things....spans across many cultures, shinning it's rays down on earth with varying meanings and levels of significance. The Moon is immortal-- ever existing. For Scott and Stiles, it seemed to thrive in times of peril. Shining brighter when their odds continued to stack against them until the collective mass loomed overhead like an indestructible mountain of doom.
The metaphorical mountain of terrible luck shook and transformed much like they would when night fell. Only this time it did so after they'd run into their newest mystery. A mystery they'd been tip-toeing and following the scent of all throughout the school.
They were discreet, focused split between the beast and the cops that swarmed their school like a pack of grim faced hunting dogs. That was their mistake. Splitting their focus-- but they had no choice. Stiles could've sworn, The Blue-Eyed Beast of Beacon was roaming their halls. He felt it. The urge to cease movement-- existence even. Because if you didn't, the hunt would begin. Just like that night he'd found Lydia. He'd been obsessing over it ever since that night. He remembered the feeling.
And even so, when they'd run into the one exuding a seemingly similar feeling....it wasn't the beast. At least that's what it seemed like. That's what he kept telling himself....
But the sentiment wouldn't solidify. Call it an instinct. Call it a symptom of the Full Moon if you must.
"...--les?...Stiles!"
He needed to stop zoning out.
"Wh-- Yea?" He recovered. Clumsy and sporadic as always.
"You guys asked me to be here, what was the point if you're just going to daydream about god knows what while I'm talking?" Lydia said, completely careless of their attempt at hushed whispers as they sat on the dusty floors behind the barricade-like desks in an empty Chemistry Class.
"Sorry...weird day." Stiles said.
"Yea no kidding. As if coming back as the crazy girl wasn't enough-- now I have to deal with a rumor that I had sex with a gargantuan super-senior!....even my closest friend seems to want in on all the tea. How nice, aren't you and Scott's relationship troubles enough drama?" Lydia said, aiming her spiteful green eyes at Alison who sat across from her.
Alison sighed and ran a hand through her rich brown hair, "I already told you Lydia-- it's not like that."
"Yea well it sure does seem like it."
Scott cut in, pulling everyone back to the point while trying to ignore his guilt building up over Stiles and the effect the Moon seemed to be having on him, "Listen. Lydia, this is serious. We just want to know how the conversation went."
"Anything out of the norm? Before getting to the bathroom even? Anything, Lydia please." Stiles added.
Lydia-- unknowing of how severe the situation was, scooted away from Stiles as if his pleas would gain a physical edge and begin violently groping her. When the three of them continued to look at her with the same level of severity, she conceded and ran through her memories once more.
"OK. Fine. I don't really have much to say.....he was uninterested in a way. When he spoke to me he didn't seem to care-- but he joked around still...like he enjoyed teasing. But only when I did it. Otherwise he seemed disinterested."
"In what?" Scott asked.
"In everything. He kind of just looked uncomfortable. But, he annoyed me. So i asked to use the bathroom. I needed a break from that Class, everyone was acting like.....like...." She struggled to find an example.
"Like they were scared." Scott and Stiles finished in unison. Alison watched them with concern.
"Yea. It was like they'd never seen a roid-junky before."
"Have.... you seen a roid-junky??"
Scott and Alison looked at Stiles with a commonly shared expression that expressed something along the lines of "Really?". Stiles knew it well, and after a few seconds of awkward silence he spoke once more, "Yea...my bad. Wrong time. Anyway, the bathroom. What happened-- why did he enter the bathroom to speak to you?"
Lydia shrugged, "He wanted me to explain something--"
"I thought he was disinterested." Stiles cut in, focused like a Coyote on a Rabbit.
Scott looked at him with confusion only to meet Stiles upraised hand.
Lydia seemed to freeze for a moment before she replied in a more quieted voice, "I....He was then. But after I left, he was very focused actually--- but he was speaking nonsense."
"Whatever it is--" Alison started before being interrupted.
"Yea, yea. I know. It was something on my paper-- apparently I'd written it. But it wasn't even in english. It was barely even my handwriting. And he kept asking me why I'll scream and what the Moon meant to me. The guy's a psycho. I don't know why you all are so focused on him. Does he plan to join the lacrosse team? You two scared of losing first line?" Lydia replied, finishing with a question for Scott and Stiles.
The two looked at eachother before looking back at her, "Terrified."
***
Lydia left soon after, spurred into movement by the nauseating ring of the bell that signified the end of another stale class. She disappeared from their little circle of solitude and blended in with the rushing wave of students flowing down the hall in a flash of candy colored hair and expensive clothing.
She'd left them with a note-- a piece of paper writing down what she remembered of the man named, Marco, telling her she apparently had written.
Stiles looked it over obsessively while they all spoke. No longer have to speak in code or secret since every one of them was very acutely aware of the supernatural world and their dire circumstances.
"Ok. Run down." Alison demanded as she sat facing the two of them.
"There's two other Shape-Shifters in the school. One of them is on our Lacrosse team-- Isaac Lahey. Derek turned him...I can smell it on him....."
"Lahey..."
"Yes, like the name of the man who died last night. That was his dad." Stiles provided, still looking at the paper.
Scott nodded along in agreement, "Yea....and now he's a prime suspect in his fathers murder. So, the police are looking for him..."
"And they can hold him for up to twenty four hours." Stiles finished.
"Do they have sufficient evidence? I mean did he do it?" Alison asked, trying to follow along on the roller coaster of events that seemed to only be getting worse.
"No-- I heard my dad talking about it last night. They have no idea what happened in truth. They said the wounds are so violent they can't even fully comprehend a human doing it. But, there's evidence of abuse...."
"Which gives Isaac a reasonable motive..." Alison finished this time.
"The point is.....if they catch him, they're going to hold him while the Moon's up. We can't let that happen." Scott said, determination coating his words.
"Why aren't we out looking for him then-- the cops could have him already." Alison asked.
Scott looked to Stiles-- who was still obsessing over the paper that read, "Mearcs lliw I thginot"
"Something's wrong..." Stiles mumbled.
"Come on Stiles, he can't be the Beast. He's a Shape-Shifter....something different-- but like us. And he hasn't killed an innocent. His eyes are golden, Stiles. The Beast of Beacon has blue eyes because it's a serial killer." Scott explained.
Stiles shook his head, "I mean come on. That guy-- Marco...he was huge. He had to be nearly seven feet tall....all muscle. The guy can't be sixteen. And those eyes-- where else are we going to find cat-eyed Shape-Shifters? It's too coincidental.....in just one day we've hit two..."
"Two what?" Scott asked, failing to follow along with Stiles thought process.
"Two coincidences, Scott. If we hit three they won't be coincidences anymore..."
"What will they be, Stiles?" Alison asked, invested in the conversation more so than before.
"A pattern....it'll become a pattern."
Silence fell before he lifted the paper up to the light of the sun that beamed through the window above them, "I mean....are we just not looking at it right? Do we need a new angle-- a new approach? A trigger? What can reveal the whole chessboard...."
Scott and Alison stayed silent, hands held tightly to take in their shrinking amounts of moments together. They made no sounds. Stiles had moments similar to the one they were experiencing many times before-- only less intense. Even so, they understood.
He was obsessive in nature. Especially over things that didn't reach a proper conclusion in his eyes or reveal enough information. Scott could tell how much it bugged him. It seemed the whirlwind of events that had taken place in the past few months had only aggravated that portion of his personality. He'd been zoning out often, reconsidering thoughts and ideas about old events. About what he'd become, what the Beast was, it's connection to Beacon Hills, it's targets.....and now-- a piece of paper inked in well written gibberish.
Alison could tell what Scott was thinking, giving him a sad-- yet supportive, smile as she flicked her head in Stiles direction, causing her curled brown hair to splash across pale and dainty face.
Scott agreed, "Stile--"
He was met with another hand that commanded silence. Revelation glossing over his eyes as he whispered, "A different angle.."
Following his words, he flipped the paper over and put it down as he began fiddling through the pockets of his blue zip up hoodie.
"What-- what is it?" Scott asked.
"Pen...Pen!"
The couple rose to their feet and tore through the classroom in search of a pen. When they returned he took it and scribbled over Lydia's writing to recreate it with two words switched.
"She made a typo." Stiles said when he finished and held up the paper to them. "Tonight I will scream."
"That's why Marco was asking about the Moon and what it meant for her." Alison provided.
"He wanted to know if she knew something..." Stiles said, suspicion back in full throttle.
"He wanted to know if she was supernatural." Scott said.
"She can't be....." Stiles replied stiffly.
"She didn't seem to react to the bite-- but she also didn't die..." Alison said what they'd all been thinking on and off ever since she'd broken out of the hospital.
Stiles stiffened again in response to the tense subject before replying, "Either way-- it doesn't matter. That's the third coincidence."
"What now?" Scott asked.
Before either of them could think up a reply, a collection of footsteps rumbled the floors as they passed the door of the empty Chemistry room they occupied. The faint clank of metal accompanied one person's footsteps.
Scott and Stiles were on their feet before they knew it, eyes glowing like twin pools of gold.
"What is it?" Alison said, following suit as she dusted off her black skirt.
"The Police have Isaac."
***
Following the capture of Isaac, the trio broke off. They'd already risked too much time together and had new objectives to accomplish. Alison needed to stay with Lydia and keep her away from Marco until the Full Moon ended.....he was still too shrouded in mystery-- and Scott and Stiles needed to find a way to get Isaac out of jail before night fell.
For now, that meant following behind the swarm of Officers escorting Isaac out of the building until an idea popped into one of their heads.
"Scott....."
"I know.." He finished.
"I won't let him kill my dad. I won't." Stiles said anyway as they stalked down the halls, nostrils flaring in response to the scents and sounds they followed.
Scott sighed, "I know. He won't get the chance. We'll get him out. We just have to be careful. I--....I'm sorry I got you into this."
Stiles fought off the memory tied to Scott's words, "It wasn't your fault-- Full Moons are.....serious."
The two fell silent after the exchange, ducking below classroom windows and dashing past open hallways as they followed the cops.
Seconds blended into minutes and suddenly the duo was leaping down the stairs and bursting through the doors that led out to the back entrance and parking lot of Beacon Hills High.
Just in time to see Isaac's saddened face at the back of a Police car as it pulled off and out of sight.
"Dammit.." Stiles and Scott said in unison.
Their ears flinched following their words in response to the revving of an expensive engine coming in from their left. It sounded wild-- powerful. Like a mechanized monster on wheels. They knew the sound. They'd even felt the rumble of the seats as they pushed the engine towards deadly speeds once before...it felt like years ago since then. Even longer since they'd last seen the brooding...homicidal..egotistical...dysfunctional...callous...shi--
"Derek." Scott thought as the jet black Camaro pulled to a stop in front of them, tires screeching like death's bellows on the asphalt.
The driver side door flew open with a purpose and Derek stepped out immediately after. The sun's rays contrasted heavily against his worn leather jacket that failed to hide the muscle beneath. He looked like he'd put on more since they'd last seen him. Then again, the last time they'd seen him, his eyes glowed blue instead of the faint remnants of blood red that accented them even now as he regarded them. He came around to their side, his steps purposeful and powerful.
Instead of approaching them, he stopped beside the passenger side door and pulled it open.
"Get in."
Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Wha-- are you serious?!"
"They have Isaac." Derek said stiffly.
"Yea, we know dumbass, It's your fault!" Stiles cut in.
Derek's eyes flashed the color of blood and Stiles felt his spine shiver. He looked like he was struggling to get out the next words-- like they were physical shards of glass tearing their way up his throat. Even so, he managed, "I know...it's my fault. Now get in the car and help me."
"No. Not when we can come up with a better idea on our own. We-- we can talk to the police...Stiles' father. We'll have worlds better success that way."
"No you won't." Derek said flatly, "Not when they find out what's in the house. It's....so much worse than what Jackson told them."
Scott looked at Stiles. Stiles shook his head.
Derek's hands balled into fists before releasing with a calming sigh, "Look. I know....we aren't exactly on even grounds. I did what I did and I'm not apologizing. Not to anyone. We can argue over morality and the logistics of it AFTER....right now, the Police Station is planning to hold a WereWolf during his first Full Moon. A police station where your father works, Stiles. And I don't think a single plan has graced either of your hormonal teenage brains yet, so get in. I'll take you to the house....I'll show you why it is imperative that we get him out. And as a reward, I'll tell you what you are, Stiles."
The two stiffened at the end of his speech. It was a subject they'd been trying to get an answer to for months. Since Scott's second Full Moon actually....when it all went bad and Stiles thought he was going to have to live out Chris Argent's dark and grim story of killing his friend who'd become a WereWolf. Instead, something else happened. Something neither of them understood still. And Derek was willing to offer up the answer in exchange for their help.
Stiles obsession wouldn't allow them to say no. And Scott's guilt couldn't.
The two got in the car and drove off soon after.
As Scott looked out the window, back to Beacon Hills High that grew smaller the further they drove away, he found himself looking dead into the eyes of a single onlooker stationed at a window at the top floor.
His dreaded locks hung over his face, casting it in shadows as his massive shoulder stretched out the leather jacket meant to hide his bulk. He looked focused. Unbelievably focused. It didn't take a genius to immediately recognize who it was as they exited the parking lot.
Marco.