Scott, Stiles, and Allison pulled up in front of the Animal Clinic. Scott led the way, pushing the glass door open , a small bell jingling overhead.
Inside, Deaton stood near a metal examination table, talking quietly with Derek.
Scott raised a hand. "Hey, Doc."
Deaton glanced up with a small smile. "Scott? You don't have a shift today. What brings you here?"
Scott smiled, and said "I need a little help from you Doc." Then he turned to Derek, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Derek, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you got shot again?"
Stiles' face lit up in a mischievous grin as he snickered. Allison leaned closer to Scott and whispered, "Again?"
Scott chuckled. "How do I put this? Your crazy aunt shot him."
Allison's eyes widened in shock. "Kate? Seriously?"
Scott shrugged. "Remember that time at dinner when I said Stiles found a wounded dog and I had to help? Well, uh… that 'dog' was Derek."
For a moment, Allison simply stared, processing the information. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. Her shoulders began shaking as quiet laughter bubbled out.
Stiles couldn't hold back anymore. He burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. "hahaha, Derek, he called you a—"
Derek glared at Stiles, cutting him off mid-sentence. Stiles squeaked and quickly ducked behind Scott.
Scott smirked and shook his head. "I was having dinner with the Argents, Derek. I wasn't exactly going to tell them I had to go help a wounded werewolf." Scott shrugged. "Why are you here, anyway?"
Derek snorted. "I'm here to ask Deaton some questions. Am I not allowed to be here, Scott?"
Scott raised an eyebrow. "As long as you're not trying to harm Deaton, I've got no problem." He tilted his head. "What are you asking about?"
Derek hesitated, his gaze flicking to Allison.
Scott sighed and gestured toward her. "Don't worry about her. She's with me. Allison, this is Derek Hale. Derek, this is Allison Argent."
For a moment, the room fell into an awkward silence. Finally, Allison broke it, her voice soft but sincere. "Nice to meet you. I've… heard about what happened to your family. I'm sorry."
Derek's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. Scott quickly cleared his throat, stepping between them. "Derek," he pressed, steering the conversation back, "What are you asking about?"
When Derek still didn't answer, Deaton spoke up. "He's asking about the Alpha."
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Oh, well, we know who the Alpha is."
Derek's head snapped toward Scott. "What? Who is it?"
Scott smirked. "Oh, now you want to talk to me?"
Derek didn't know what to say, he couldn't force Scott to tell him, so he just looked at him anxiously.
Scott sighed. "Fine. Stiles, fill him in."
Stiles eagerly stepped forward, explaining everything. He detailed how all the Alpha's victims were connected to the Hale family, how Scott had confronted the Alpha in the hospital, and finally, the moment of truth. "Derek, I'm sorry to say this." Stiles said, his voice softening, "but the Alpha… it's your uncle Peter."
Derek's face twisted in disbelief. "Impossible. He would never—he couldn't have killed Laura."
Scott leaned against the counter, his expression serious. "He's been in a coma for years, Derek. Probably having nightmares about the fire every day. The rage, the pain—it must have twisted him. It's the only explanation for what he's doing. But make no mistake: Peter is the Alpha who killed Laura, the one who bit me, and the one killing people in town."
Derek's jaw clenched. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've met him," Scott said, his voice steady. "I nearly killed him a few days ago when he got too close to Allison."
Derek's expression shifted, the weight of Scott's words sinking in. Finally, he muttered, "Thank you for telling me." He turned to leave.
Scott called after him, "Where are you going?"
"To see him," Derek said without hesitation.
Scott stepped forward. "Wait. Before you go to him and get yourself killed. I need your help with something."
Derek frowned. "What is it?"
"We discovered that there is an evil creature that feeds on humans in town, and I'm here to see if Deaton can identify it, so listen to what we discovered and see if you know anything about a creature like this." Scott said.
Then Scott gestured to Stiles. "Show them the pictures."
Stiles pulled out the photos and spread them across the counter. "This woman," he said, pointing to the first picture, "was drained of every drop of blood." He moved to the other two. "And these two? Their livers and spleens were ripped out."
Derek studied the images, his brow furrowing. "Could be a Wendigo." He muttered.
Deaton picked up the pictures, examining them closely. "The first victim… possibly a vampire," he said finally. "But vampires disappeared long ago. If this is one, they're either incredibly bold or very inexperienced, to let the prey they fed on be discovered like this."
"Why did you say that they are either bold or very inexperienced?" Allison asked.
"Because the way a vampire kills is very obvious, and once a vampire is discovered in any place, everyone hunts them, be it hunters or werewolves. No one likes a vampire." Deaton answered.
Allison nodded. "I see."
"And the other two victims?" Scott asked.
Deaton shook his head. "Cannibalistic creatures are numerous. Without more evidence, I can't say for certain."
Stiles asked. "Doc, you mean there are two psychos running around town killing people, not just one?"
Deaton nodded grimly. "Yes, Stiles. It's likely we're dealing with two different creatures."
Stiles groaned. "Fantastic."
Scott turned to Derek. "Have you ever encountered a supernatural creature that made every part of you scream to kill it, like it was your instinct?"
Derek's expression shifted slightly. "No. But my mother once told me about something that made her feel that way when she was young."
"What was it?" Stiles asked.
Derek hesitated. "A Wechuge. A cannibalistic monster made of ice. She encountered it in Alaska with her pack. They burned it to kill it."
Allison's eyes widened. "Could that be what we're dealing with?"
Deaton shook his head. "No. Wechuge prefer cold, snowy climates, and they consume their victims entirely. This doesn't match their pattern."
Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Since we don't know what it is and can't track it, I'll patrol every night for a while. Maybe I'll get lucky. Allison, Stiles—don't go out after dark. Got it?"
Both nodded, their expressions serious.
Derek straightened. "I have to deal with Peter."
Scott placed a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful. Peter is stronger than you think. He isn't a normal Alpha. You've seen what he can turn into."
Derek didn't respond but gave a small nod before leaving.
Scott turned to the others. "Okay, I'm starving. Let's grab something to eat."
They said their goodbyes to Deaton and headed to a small diner. The three of them slid into a booth, the tension finally easing as they placed their orders.
As they ate, Allison hesitated before speaking. "Should I tell my parents about this? About the creatures?"
Scott shook his head. "They probably already know. And how would you explain how you found out? I don't want them knowing about me. Not yet."
Allison nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Don't worry too much," Scott said with a reassuring smile. "Whatever these things are, they won't go near the hunters."
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