Gracie sighed as she closed her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her sure her locker was locked. The school day had ended and the Hale girl was heading to leave when––
"You can tell Derek thanks for the help!'"
Gracie jumped, turning back with wide eyes, and there stood Stiles Stilinski, beside her as he stared at her with an accusatory look.
"You scared the hell out of me," the Hale girl said. She cocked her head, wrinkling her nose cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"
While she knew Derek hadn't helped Scott through his transition, he had saved him from the Argents, who were on a hunting-spree during the full moon. If anything, Scott should be thanking him.
"You said Derek wanted to help Scott," the Stilinski boy hissed. "But that's not really what happened. He bit him and now he wants him to be part of his pack."
Like it was joke, Gracie laughed, closing her eyes. "Derek didn't bite Scott."
"Uh-huh, sure," Stiles muttered sarcastically.
"He didn't," Gracie promised. "He couldn't have."
"What does that mean?"
Gracie sighed as she crossed her arms. "Stiles, it was too late Friday night. Scott was shifting. Derek did what he could. He didn't do anything wrong."
"He killed that girl!" Stiles finally snapped, flailing his arms up in exasperation.
Gracie froze. "What girl?"
"The one from the other night," Stiles said. "The girl who they found in the preserve."
Grace scoffed. She didn't know whether to be offended or to laugh at the thought. "You're kidding, right?"
But from the look on his face, he was serious, and the Hale girl's face fell as Stiles sighed. "Look, I'm sorr--"
"––You know what, how about you and Scott go to hell," Gracie spat before turning and heading the other way, and never looking back while Stiles stood there, wondering what the hell just happened.
"Scott..." Stiles called out as he walked over to his locker, where the teen wolf had been standing still getting changed. "Did you apologize to Allison?"
"Yeah," Scott nodded, leaning against his locker as he stared ahead. His voice was drown out like he was stuck in a trance.
"Well, is she giving you a second chance or––?"
"Yeah," Scott answered, cutting his best friend off.
"Yeah!" Stiles exclaimed. "All right. So everything's good."
"No."
Stiles turned back when he moved around the locker. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"
"Remember the hunters," Scott said, reminding him of the men who shot him when he shifted during the full moon. "Her dad is one of 'em."
Stiles' eyes widened as his mouth fell open. "Her dad?"
"Shot me..."
"Allison's father?" Stiles asked.
"...With a crossbow."
"Allison's father––?"
"––Yes! Her father!" Scott lashed out. He started breathing heavily as his chest heaved. "Oh, my God."
"No, Scott. Snap back. You okay? Hey, all right? He didn't recognize you, right?" Stiles asked as he tried to calm him down.
"No. N-no," Scott stammered through breaths, still not calming down. "I don't think so."
"Does she know about him?"
"Oh, yeah. I don't know. What if she does?" Scott, who had calmed down for a few seconds. "This is gonna kill me, man."
"Okay, just focus on lacrosse. Okay, here, Scott. Take this," Stiles shoved Scott's lacrosse stick in his chest with the rest of his uniform. "Take this, and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta do, yeah?"
"Lacrosse," Scott mumbled, still focused on Allison's father.
"Here we go!"
"Let's go! One-on-one from up top!" Coach Finstock yelled as he tossed a lacrosse stick at Jackson. "Jackson, take a long stick today. Atta boy. That's how you do it!"
Scott and Stiles ran towards the field, where most of the team started practicing and doing some stretches.
"Greenberg, take a lap," Coach shouted as his least favorite player started to run around the field. "Let's go. Faster, Greenberg! Let's go."
On the field, when Coach blew his whistle, Scott placed the lacrosse ball in his stick and sprinted across the field. As he dodged one of the players, Jackson came hurtling towards him out of nowhere, sending him flying back.
Stiles winced, watching from the bench. "That looked like it hurt."
"Hey, McCall. Hey, McCall!" Coach yelled, marching towards him. Scott got up, crouching forward almost as if he were pain as Coach stood beside him. "My-my grandmother can move faster than that. And she's dead. You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?"
"Yes, coach," Scott breathed.
"I can't hear you."
"Yes, Coach," Scott repeated.
"Then do it again. McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!" Coach sang as Scott went back to his starting position. "Let's go!"
When he blew his whistle again, Scott ran more pissed than ever. He sprinted towards Jackson, and before Jackson could even touch him, Scott slammed into him, pinning his shoulders back as he crashed into the ground with a thud.
"Yeah, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Coach shouted as he and everyone else crowded around Jackson, who was still on the ground, groaning in pain.
With everyone distracted, Scott heeled over, falling to his knees, groaning as Stiles ran over to him. Through his lacrosse mask, he stared up at his friend with his eyes turning yellow and his fangs coming out.
"I can't control it, Stiles," he grunted out. "It's happening."
"What? Right here? Now?" Stiles asked, fully knowing Scott picked the wrong time to shift –– in front of the team and the coach."Come on, get up. Come on. Come on."
As everyone crowded around the injured Jackson, Stiles helped Scott to his feet as he led him off the field. Pushing the door open when he got to the boy's locker room, Scott had already started to shift. When Stiles tried to help him, it was too late and everything went from bad to worse.
With his yellow eyes and fangs, the teen wolf was standing on top of the lockers with a dark, thick pair or side burns and his face was almost deformed. He looked inhuman.
Stiles was still on the ground, crawling back as Scott chased after him, making a growling noise as he hopped down. Scrambling to his feet, he ran out the door only to come back, standing forward with a fire extinguisher, spraying his friend with the fire extinguisher as white smoke filled the room.
As Scott fell back, Stiles fled out of the room, hugging the extinguisher, leaning against the wall.
"Stiles..." Scott gave a weak groan as Stiles peered into the room. Scott was sitting on the bench, covered in sweat as he returned back to his normal self. "What happened?"
"You tried to kill me," Stiles said, walking into the room as he tore off his gloves. "It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."
Scott gave a frustrated sigh. "But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed."
"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up kill someone on the field," Stiles quipped. "You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game."
"I'm first line," Scott practically croaked.
"Not anymore."
Scott and Stiles made sure Derek was gone when they started digging a large hole as the two kept looking for the woman's body -- or what was left of her.
"What if he comes back?" Scott asked, throwing a shovel-load of dirt away.
"Then we get the hell out of here," Stiles said, all sweaty and dirty from the digging.
"What if he catches us?"
"I have a plan for that," Stiles nodded, looking to Scott. "We both run in different directions. Whoever Derek catches first, too bad."
"I hate that plan," the teen wolf grumbled. Just then Scott went to dig again, Stiles' shovel clanked against something hard. "Oh, stop, stop, stop."
Both guys dug more dirt out the way with their hands as they found what looked like a brown sheet tied with a rope.
"Hurry," Scott urged as Stiles tried to loosen all the knots.
"I'm trying. Did he have to tie the thing in, like, 900 knots?"
"I'll do it," Scott said, taking a few seconds as he used his supernatural speed to unravel the rope. As they pulled the sheet open, Scott found something they weren't quite expecting. Stiles screeched, jumping out of the hole they dug as Scott followed.
"What the hell is that?" Stiles shouted, scrambling to his feet as they stared down at what looked like the head of a werewolf.
"It's a wolf," Scott said unhelpfully.
"Yeah, we can see that," the teen with buzz-cut griped, kneeling beside the hole. "I thought you said you smelled blood, as in human blood."
"I told you something was different."
"This doesn't make sense," Stiles breathed.
"We gotta get out of here."
"Yeah. Okay, help me cover this up?" Stiles asked. He and Scott both leaned down to pull the sheet over the dead animal. He stopped, standing their as he stared ahead blankly.
"What's wrong?" asked Scott.
"You see that flower?" Stiles pointed to a single purple flower poking out of the dirt, standing tall.
"What about it?"
"I think it's wolfsbane."
"What's that?" Scott asked.
"Uh," Stiles scoffed. "Haven't you ever seen the 'Wolf Man'?"
"No," Scott looked at him cluelessly.
"Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original, classic werewolf movie?"
"No! What?" Scott asked.
"You are so unprepared for this," Stiles grunted as he picked the flower from the ground, pulling the rope that was attached with it. Walking around them, he kept pulling out more rope as it formed almost a spiral.
"Holy--!" Stiles jumped when he and Scott looked into the hole to find that the dead wolf was now a woman's corpse. "I'm never gonna sleep again..."