XXXXXXXXXX

"Stiles, for the love of God, please be careful, you idiot." I hiss quietly.

"It's OK, Layla. It'll be fine," he says casually, as he climbs Scott's fucking house.

"Not if you bust your clumsy, dumbass, or someone calls the cops thinking you're trying to burglar the place." I whisper-yell worriedly, looking around to see if anyone noticed us. I adore my best friends like family, trully, but God, did they lack common sense. The nly reason I was even coming on this incredibly stupid adventure was because I hate them doing dangerous shit, and at least this way, I can watch over them.

I hear something, and look up to see Scott coming out onto the porch. Before I can say some thing from my place somewhat hidden behind a large tree, Stiles pops down, fucking upside down, causing Scott to scream, Stiles to scream back, and me to join them out of surprise from the sudden noise. My high pitched shriek turns into a full on cackle from the lunacy of the situation. I can't even with these two, but God, do I love their chaos.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" Scott snarls.

"You weren't answering your phone. Why do you have a baf?"

I laugh and step closer to the railing of the porch, as Stiles proceeds to inform our best friend of the reason for our soon to be adventure, resting my chin on the railing. I'm only 5"2", 5'3" on a good day. When Stiles climbs down, I tap him on the shoulder and, without words he understands, and easily grips me by the waist and helps me swing my leg over the railing where I perch comfortably,

"A dead body?" I choke on a laugh as Scott hauls me the rest of the way over, and gives me a side hug.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body!" Stiles snarks before joining us. He tells Scotty about how they only found half, and soon enough, we are off to find the rest of it. Truthfully, I want to find the body, but only so that this poor girl might be buried properly. Either way, I have to watch out for these two. They might technically be older than me, but I have always been supremely protective, and I'm definitely the most mature.

I hold Scott's arm and hand as we hike through the woods, as though I'm allowing him to guide me. I usually have Stiles guide me, but I don't want to take chances in case Scott's asthma acts up.

"This is some stupid, white people, horror movie bullshit right here," I mutter. "And my token brown, blind ass is gonna be the first to go."

Both of my boys snicker, but definitely sound more nervous now, as they banter. I pick pocket Scott's inhaler from him and hand it to him as we climb a hill, something I usually do to tell him to take a puff. He grins at me and I bump our hips together in affection. Yeah, love you, too, Scotty, and yes, we are friendship goals. I love not having to verbally speak to them, though, it makes me come off as the most quiet of our trio.

I'm suddenly pushed onto my belly between the two, and nearly cuss them out before I realize what the noise I've been hearing is. Being visually impaired with more than 50% vision loss, I tend to have really good hearing, and should've been paying more attention.

"Fuck, the popo," I hiss, and we take off. I know that realistically speaking, I could probably navigate these woods better than both of them combined, as I'm used to moving while I can't see, unlike them.

That said, I stick with Scott to make sure he doesn't overexert himself. Stiles pulls ahead, most likely trying to find a path for us. I hear something and tug Scott behind a tree.

Stiles is then promptly busted by none other than his dad, Papa Sheriff, or Sheriff Papa if the mood strikes. I've called him some variation of that for nearly half my life, and it isn't changing anytime soon. I nearly stepped out when the sheriff asks where Scott and I are, but Scott holds me still, and Stiles bullshits to protect us. Ah, the Bro Code at its finest.

I check on Scotty as Stiles is dragged off, and I give up all pretense of him leading me, and start to guide him back the way we came. Bind Girl navigation for the win. The thought makes me snicker to myself, and, although I can't see it, I know Scott is giving me a bemused look. Thankfully, I can hear his breathing is ok, as we trek through these creepy ass trees.

I stiffen slightly as I feel something. I tighten my hands on my brother's, and he tenses as we start to walk faster. Something is coming, and it watches. I flinch at every noise, eyes squinting into the shadowed trees, searching for the source of the flickering movement but finding only swaying branches. I yank Scott to the ground just as a literal stampede comes through. Scott quickly pulls me to his chest and covers my head, trying to protect me like the bro he is.

As the last of the herd of deer passes, we shakily climb to our feet, bewildered but vaguely amused, and start looking for Scott's inhaler. Suddenly, he screams and throws himself back, unfortunately, right into me and we tumble down the hill. I gasp, as the air is knocked out of me. There is also pain in my ankle from the awkward landing. Damnit, Scotty. I hear something, and my head snaps up.

"Scott-" I cut off as something pounces on me and a scream rips itself from my throat. Something fucking bites me and shakes!

"Layla!" I can hear Scott's panic and hear him charging the whatever, before he cries out in pain, causing me to snap out of the panicked daze I'm in. Gasping, I drag myself to my feet ready to do whatever to aid Scott. My hip fucking burns as I lunge at my freind, dragging him up, and we bolt the fuck out of there.

I sob as I do my best to lead us back the way we came, feeling blood and rain drip down me. Dammit, girl, this is not the time for tears. Think of it as practice for childbirth. Suck it up! Must protect little brother! We make it to the road just in time to nearly get hit by a car. I feel eyes on me the entire way. That's it, no more dumb white people shit. Never a-fucking-gain!

XXXXXXXXXX

The next day, we show Stiles our bites. He touches my side gently, and I shiver a bit from the sensation. I'm ticklish, dammit. I can see the guilt in his eyes. The boys hate to see me hurt, overprotective fools that they are. I quickly grip Stiles hand and step into his space, ducking my head and forcing him to meet my eyes with a gentle touch on the cheek. I hold him there for a second, keeping my smile warm, but silent. His face softens as he hears me loud and clear, and I grin, pat his cheek and dance away, before grabbing Scott's arm on his good side so he can be my Seeing-Eye Buddy.

Scott, of course understanding the silent conversation perfectly, chuckles and says, "This is why people think we're all dating each other." I snort, and shrug. Based on culture and upbringing, I was raised to be a fairly affectionate person towards family. And to me, that is what Scott and Stles are, just as my little sister is. Although, admittedly, that isn't really extended to male friends in Arab and Indian Cultures … Oh, well.

As we walk the boys start arguing about what bit us. Stiles points out that it can't have been a wolf, since there hasn't been any in California for 60 years, but I bite my lip, unsure.

"I dunno, man. I heard the howl, too. What else could it have been?" I admit quietly.

"And if you don't believe that, you definitely won't believe that we found the body." I whip my head towards Scott, incredulity on my face. Bitch, when did we do this! "That's why I slammed into Layla and knocked us into that ditch."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. I'll get my revenge for pulling a Stiles later. My ankle still hurts." I bare my teeth at him slightly to show my displeasure. He actually arcs his neck towards me and whimpers. Ha, that's right, be afraid, be very afraid! Mwahahah-wait, what the fuck? I shake off the slightly odd behavior and tune back into the convo. "Also all I saw was the damn ground after being bowled over, but I believe you. You screamed like a preteen who saw a spider."

Scotty pouts, but is unflinchingly ignored. I nod as Lydia Martin goes by. Although we aren't anywhere near close, we are on pretty good terms and have a bit of an academic rivalry going. She likes that I don't grovel, kiss up, or tremble at her feet. I'm relieved that Stiles doesn't make a fool of himself anymore. I want him happy, and his seemingly eternal infatuation with her was not it. Stiles deserves someone who knows his worth, and I'll be damned if I let him be miserable and disrespected. We finally had a hard conversation about it a few months ago, and I pointed out he couldn't force someone to return his feelings. It wasn't fair to either of them, and I think I broke his heart a bit. We cried and ate ice cream and had a movie marathon after that. I told him again and again how anyone would be lucky to have him and how much I loved him. We cried more. And, thankfully, that was the end of that.

Funny enough, Lydia was kinder in the months after, and he seems completely over her. I glance sideways at him, and he is already smiling at me, telling me he is fine. We both give Lydia a small wave as goes by and she returns it with a small smile. I murmur that I'm proud of him as she goes, and his smile is soft and warm as he runs a hand briefly through my dark waves, teasingly tugging on the near thigh length hair. Love you, too.

XXXXXXXXXX

Class was boring, as usual, but I felt…weird. I've always been perceptive, but this was more. It was like I could sense the vibes of people. The girl next to me was anxious all first period. I spoke to her for a few minutes and she seemed to…brighten? I dunno. Apparently, her dad was hospitalized, but I told her not to worry. It seemed to help, and weirdly, it felt true to me even as I said it. I'm not the type to say empty words like that, and optimism isn't really my thing in general because, in life shit happens, but it was a feeling I had. I shouldn't have said that. My pragmatism is out of whack today.

Oddly enough, she got a text right after, saying that her dad was fine. She seemed to brighten even more, but it was just an impression I got. I couldn't see shit, just like normal. It happened a few more times, like how a boy's vibe in front of me seemed to spike when his friend startled him, and the way the teacher seemed to darken and tense right before he started yelling at some kid in the back for sleeping. When I sat next to Vernon Boyd in class, he seemed to ooze… depression and loneliness. I'm not sure how I know, but I hate it. It makes my skin crawl. I immediately set about adopting him. Yes, you are now mine, Boyd! You shall be my new BFF. MWAHAHAHA.

Here is the thing. I am very much in Slytherin– Gryffindor hybrid. It takes a lot to scare me, but I can also be very manipulative and sneaky. However, with great power comes great responsibility and all that shit. I try to limit my scheming to only getting myself, and usually Scott and Stiles, out of bullshit situations, or to help people. Time to put my skills to use.

"Hey, you prefer Boyd, right?" He seems shocked, but again, I'm not sure how I derived that. He literally didn't move a muscle, and I am actually fairly decent at reading body language since I'm able to see most of it.

"Yeah." He responds, perfectly stoic. I roll with it. My instincts haven't failed me yet.

"Would you mind copying that bit of notes on the board down for me? My device, (it helps with my visual impairment, isn't picking it up because of Whitmore's big head." I ask truthfully. Everyone knows about my disability, seeing as it wasn't easy to hide in class, but I'm well liked enough that no one gives me shit, unlike Scotty and his asma, or Erica Reyes. Ooh, her next. Today, I shall make friends!

Boyd agrees immediately, seemingly amused, but then sad? He thinks I'm using him-what the fuck? Where did that come from?! I'm not sure how I'm doing this but decide that whether it's all in my head or not, I have to keep going. People trust those that seem vulnerable and reliant on them. Asking for a favor is Step 1 in winning trust. Step 2 is common interest.

Throughout the period, I continue to chat with him. I get the impression that he is becoming lighter the longer we talk. When class ends, I feel a sharp spike of sadness, like a pit has formed under him, ready to plummet him to the depths. I immediately invite him to eat with us next lunch, and then I get the image of sunlight streaming from behind clouds as he agrees and I smile. I think he gives me one back.

I join Scott and Stiles in the hall, and zone out a bit as I ponder my weird interactions. Even now, Scott feels oddly focused on something, but also confused. A stab of pain ricochets in my head, making me twitch. Ah damn, I'm getting a migraine. Did I over use my eyes?

I feel a hand run through my hair. Concern, love, curiosity. Stiles. I blink and focus on him. He has ducked his head close to mine, something he started to do when we were younger and he found out it had become harder for me to see facial expressions. I smile, and brush my cheek against his shoulder, letting him know I'm ok. I love Scotty just as much as Stiles, but he isn't as observant as we are, and tends to need more verbal interaction, even if he usually gets us. But Stiles? Sometimes it feels like we share a brain. Meh, let's forget the weirdness for now. I'm probably just making something out of nothing. I ignore the slight nagging that says I'm not, and the weird thrum I can feel in my fingertips.

XXXXXXXXXX

I'm watching- er, listening is more accurate, to the boy's tryouts. Moral support and all that, and planning how we're gonna make Scott feel better after he gets his ass handed to him, cuz, frankly, there is no chance of him getting in with his atrocious asthma, poor guy. I honestly think Stiles joined just to support Scott, rather than a desire to play, so I'm not worried there. I flinch at the loud whistle, as usual because of my sensitive ears, but it suddenly seems worse. I grip my head and gasp, before I suddenly get another impression. The whistle is hurting Scott. I'm getting worried now. I'm not sure how I instantly know which blurry figure Scott is, but I notice how his body spasms. Pain.

After that, I find out from Lydia and the new girl, Allison,next to me that the goalie is apparently a badass. Scott is the goalie? And he's doing well? What the hell is happening today? The crowd is losing it, but all I can feel is fear.

XXXXXXXXXX

After school, we go back to the woods looking for Scotty's inhaler. Apparently, I'm not the only one who's had a weird day.

"Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket." Scott says, describing his symptoms and super sniffing.

"I don't even have any mint mojito…" Stiles trails off, finding it. Scott gives him a look.

I'm holding Stiles's arm today, to keep him steady and from getting distracted. Oddly enough, despite my low vision I'm usually the least clumsy out of the three of us. I'm honestly still kind of mad at Scotty for knocking me over, and my ankle still hurts a bit, so I'm leaning on Stiles.

"I… " I hesitate, but Stiles's focus is on me. Love, encouragement, curiosity. "I've been feeling weird today, too. But, it's different. It's like I can sense people. Like a weird deja vu. I keep getting impressions. We all know I'm good at reading people, so I was ignoring it, but this is something else and Scotty is feeling off today, too."

"How do you mean, Midnight?" I smile at the use of my nickname and bump Scott with my shoulder gently.

"Like emotions, but other things too. I don't know how to explain it." I admit quietly. Stiles looks like he might crack a joke, but he sees something on my face, and instead, stops us.

"Okay, let's test it. I'm going to stay completely still and blank faced. You tell me if you pick something up." I nod and take a few steps back from him to make it harder.

I look at him, and for a second I don't feel anything. Then, suddenly, it's like a jolt through me, and I'm reaching towards him before I even process it.

"Fear," I gasp out, a bit raggedly. I feel a spike of shock, and I'm close enough to see him gape at me. I grab his hand feeling unsettled. What was he thinking that brought that on? The feeling changes. Affection, concern, confusion, awe.

"Yeah, ok I don't know how you did that." He squeezes my hand, and I feel a bit relieved that it's not in my head, after all. Probably, at least. "So, all this started with the bites?"

I follow along, reluctantly snickering at Stiles's lycanthropy joke, smacking him upside the head. Hmm, fluffy. Glad I made him grow it out.

"It's not an adrenaline reaction, Scotty. And we would have already gone into shock, and probably died by now. But we should really get a rabies shot anyway," I assure my slightly distressed brother.

I'm distracted by the sudden feeling of eyes on us. I tense up. As Scott and Stiles discuss the missing inhaler, I turn and see a stranger. I struggle to hold in a gasp. Pain, anger, grief. Overwhelmingly.

When Stiles turns around, I feel more. Shock, recognition,…lust?! Interesting. Shock from Scott but not the rest.

"What are you doing here?" It's sharp, but the voice is very attractive. Sue me, blind girls are attracted to different shit. "This is private property."

Hmm, time to manipulate and get us out of this shit, cuz I'm not about to face Papa Sherif today. I sidle closer to Stiles, deliberately drawing attention to myself, and adjust our arms slightly in the classic "guiding a blind chick" pose, before not bothering to train my eyes on his figure and letting them relax out of a squint and blank. Lastly, I carefully tilt my head towards him, like I'm listening. All combined, it screams Innocent Blind Girl. Manipulative, hell yeah. False? Not really. I just stopped bothering to act "normal" with my body language. It's not even really exaggerated, just something I don't allow myself to do if I don't want to be seen as vulnerable, but vulnerability will get us out of this. I keep my body still in contrast to my boys' shifting.

I ignore the attention I somehow feel on me, again, not really focusing my eyes on the stranger as he gets closer, but a sweeping glance tells me he is muscled and possibly attractive. I blink to try and get them to focus.

I flinch as something is tossed to Scotty in a tense exchange, and I turn my head towards my friend."Scott?"

"My inhaler," he answers my silent question. I feel confusion and then a surprised understanding from the stranger as he leaves.

Stiles explains that the stranger was Derek Hale. I correct him about the Hale's dyeing ten years ago. They look at me in surprise, and I feel the ache of grief, but this time it's mine.

"We were friends with Cora Hale. You guys might not remember as much," I murmur.

"I remember," Stiles tells me softly bumping us together gently. I hum, and close my eyes a second before I tug us along back the way we came. I feel focused, curious eyes the whole way back.

XXXXXXXXXX

Scott is distressed as fuck the whole next day, both his sleep walking and try out thing are really putting him on edge, ad it's affecting me, too, goddamnit! He makes the cut, though. Yay. Stiles drags me on a research binge, and suddenly, lycanthropy isn't a joke anymore, and I might me be an empath, or something. I'm researching on Stiles's bed when Scott makes it over, ecstatic to be taking new girl, Allison Argent, to one of Lydia's legendary parties.

"Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour." Scott says, irritated. It's fair, but I'm seriously concerned now. "Layla, you too?"

Stiles starts to break it down, and I can feel his irritation starting to escalate as Stiles tries to convince him he's a werewolf. I'm honestly not sure, but I can't fault Stiles's research yet. I get the sudden feeling of dread and fear as I get the impression of danger. It brings me to my feet just in time to see Scott fucking slam Stiles into a wall when he tries to cancel his date.

I shriek, and lunge for his arm as he raises it to punch Stiles. Hell no, not on my fucking watch! Scott whirls on me, blindingly fast, and I can't do anything when he grabs my wrist and practically throws me. I bounce off the edge of the bed and hit the ground hard. I'm shocked into stillness, my eyes wide as I stare at one of my best friends who has never raised a hand to anybody, and who is protective enough to put himself between me and any crowd, even just walking in school.

There is a moment of dead silence as both of the boys freeze, and then Stiles is shoving Scott hard and racing towards me. Fear, rage, concern, Stiles. Horror, guilt, confusion, Scott. Scott takes a step towards me and I can't help the little flinch. He recoil.

" I'm- I'm sorry. I-I gotta go get ready for that party," he mutters, and leaves. "I'm sorry." We watch in silence on the ground together. I'm tearing up in frustration, and a bit of stress. It probably doesn't help the situation. Damn overactive tear ducts. Stiles cups my face and runs a hand through my hair checking me for injuries.

"I'm ok," I whisper, still struck dumb. I touch his cheek, and he nods tensely to say that he is fine as well. We help each other to our feet, and pull each other close for a second, and I listen the rapid, unique heart under my head for a moment. I feel his spike of affection and can't help nuzzling him to show my love in return. He huffs a laugh, and tightens his grip on me before pulling away.

As he sets the chair right, we see the claw wounds it, and I feel Stiles's fear and anger when he gently checks my wrist and we see a hand shaped bruise, and 3 small puncture wounds that fade into scratches. It seems Scott nicked me when he threw me. Oh. Motherfucker, I will have revenge.

XXXXXXXXXX

We haul ass to the party. Got to make sure our best friend doesn't kill anyone…or we gotta help hide the body. We ride or die like that.

We don't see Scott, but we do see Derek Hale getting into a car with Allison, before he stops and comes over to talk to us, surprisingly. Stiles tenses at my side, shifting slightly in front of me as I feel Derek's attention focus on me.

"You need to come with me," he states to me. I blink. The fuck? Who the fuck does he think he is? This bitch…wait. Alarm, concern, urgency, confusion. Stiles is already pushing me behind him, completely pissred off and snarling.

"She's not going anywhere with you." I can feel his protective instinct rearing up, but I stop it with a single touch to his shoulder. We share a look, and he allows me to step up next to him. I focus my eyes on Derek's face as best I can.

"You don't understand-" I can feel frustration blooming, but even now I can still feel the grief. Soul deep, I think.

"It's ok. You can speak freely in front of Stiles, he is my family." I tell him calmly, aiming my eyes as best I can at his. Surprise, Derek. Love, Stiles. "It is in your best interest to be transparent with us. You know about Scott and I." I say it like the fact it is.

"I do," he replies, after a second of hesitation."I'm not sure how you're keeping control, but we need to get you someplace before the full moon."

" So, we were right. Scott really is a werewolf." Stiles says.

Derek's attention seems to sharpen." Wait, why do you say that like Layla isn't?" He knows my name?

" I was bitten as well, but I'm not having the same symptoms as Scotty." Alarm, shock, concern, Derek.

Stiles tenses further as the man takes a step into my personal space. Derek hesitates before raising his hands, "May I?" It is amazingly polite compared to his normal speech. I'm not exactly sure what he wants, but I don't feel any danger from him, so why not. But just to be safe.

I straighten up, and at this distance, I can finally make perfect eye contact. Following the odd nagging in my gut, I ask, "Derek Hale, do you wish Scott, Stiles, or I harm?"

" I do not." Truth. I'm positive.

"Do you wish to help us?"

"Clever women," he huffs, quietly amused, "I do." Truth.

"He speaks the truth, Stiles." We share another moment, and I'm not entirely sure how I know, but I'm sure we can trust him in this.

At the unasked question on Derek's face, that I can still somehow sense, Dear God, Stiles replies, "Layla has always been the best judge of character. This is that, times 1000. I trust her unquestionably." Aw, dammit, Stiles, I'll tear up.

"Go on, Derek Hale," I say, still feeling oddly formal.

Gently, he cups my cheeks and ducks his head, so he eye to eye with my funsized self. I can hear him taking deep breaths, like he's trying to identify my scent. Oh, he is. I'm finally close enough to realize how stupidly attractive he is. Fuck. Well, here comes my inner chaos and lack of filter.

"Your eyes are very pretty," I say, blunt as shit. Shock, amusement, embarrassment. "Your whole face really, but your eyes specifically. What color are they?"

Derek actually lets out a soft laugh. Somehow, that makes him more attractive. Holy shit. From behind me, though, I can hear the familiar sound of Stiles's face meeting his palm. "You think my eyes are pretty, but you don't know what color they are? They are green or hazel, I think."

I hum, "I happen to be kinda color blind, and generally blind all around, but I like art, and you are very pretty. May I?" I raise my hands as he did before. Shock, caution, interest,. It comes from both of them, surprisingly.

"I guess that's fair." he says stiffly. I do a little happy wiggle, before cupping his cheeks with my own hands and running my figure tips along his facial features.

"Oh, this is some utter bullshit," I mutter tracing the edge of his razor jaw. Both Stiles and Derek give off amusement and I can hear Stiles laugh. I noticed Derek's eyes have gone a brilliant ice blue, but I get the impression not to comment on it. I let my fingertips brush his long lashes, before stroking his cheekbones, stubble tickling my palm. Grief, awe, attraction, longing, Derek. That's both a bit flattering and sad. I think he misses human touch. "Well, I'm done, thank you for letting me do that. It was very kind of you. Did you actually smell anything besides my mint shampoo?"

"You don't smell like a werewolf. I really need to see your bite wound," he says, all humor suddenly gone and replaced by worry. I shrug, and pull my shirt up and remove the bandage. It's healing, but slowly. I shiver when fingers graze it. " I'm going to be blunt, I don't know what's going on with you, but you're not a werewolf. When someone gets bitten, typically, they either turn like Scott, or die." Fuck. I almost panic, but before I can, I'm hit with impressions from Stiles. PANIC! NO,NO,NO, please no, not again. Stiles needs me, so I shove everything down, and reach for him.

I grab his hand and place it across my upper chest and throat, and lean into it so he can feel my heartbeat. I placed one of my hands on his chest and run the other through his hair and grip his neck. It's been a long time since Stiles had a panic attack, but I haven't forgotten anything. Stiles manages to get a hold of himself within a few seconds, rather impressively. I sense a lot of awe, curiosity, and longing from Derek, but he waits. Stiles shakes it all off quickly, and tucks me into his side.

"Is Layla dying?" We tense, but Derek answers us quickly.

"No, but sometimes, a person who is bitten will awaken a dormant supernatural status. I think that's what happened here, but she's gonna be just fine. Look, we really need to get to Scott. I'm going to drive Allison home and find him. It's dangerous and you need to stay away." Fuck that.

"Yeah, no. That's our brother, and we will keep him safe, even from himself." I state firmly. "See you soon, byeeeeee." I promptly ignore Derek's protest and drag Stiles back to the Jeep. Resignation, worry, frustration.

"Layla!"

"Hmm?"

"Your eyes are really pretty, too."

I stop dead, but Derek is already in his car, and starting to drive away. I share a "what the fuck" look with my Besty, and we book it.

XXXXXXXXXX

We get to Scott's house, but he freaks out and yeets himself out a bloody window, screaming about Derek. He doesn't really stick around for an explanation, but his furious roar chills me to the bones. Fuck, Fido is loose. Dear God, on another note, his puppy dog eyes will probably become irresistible now.

We finally find Clifford at bullshit o'clock in the morning, and exchange intel. Scott tells us about the hunters and Derek, and we tell him about our interaction with Derek and hunting Scott down, ironically.

"I need you guys to trust me," I mumble, sleepily, gently stroking the spot Scott was shot in, "I don't know how I know, but Derek didn't bite you, and he isn't our enemy. We are gonna need him. Please, trust me." They share a look before promising.

"Hell, I'm a werewolf, it's not really that surprising, especially because your instincts were already on point before The Bites. Besides, my judgment is clearly untrustworthy, as seen from yesterday," Scott muttered darkly, touching the bruises under my sleeve.

"Not your fault, honey." I tell him, patting his cheek.

We reassure Scott it will be ok with Allison, and we are with him all the way. And then we find out Allison's dad is the hunter that shot Fluffy. Fuck.

XXXXXXXXXX