No Place Like Home

No Place Like Home

Derek Morgan x reader

TW: Mentions of sexual assault on reader, murder, blood, violence, regular criminal minds stuff, angst with a happy ending, this gets very dark at some points so please read at your own discretion, I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything.

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Baraboo Wisconsin.

Y/N L/N’s hometown. The one she left the second she turned sixteen and never looked back. Baraboo is a quaint little place, beautiful views and fun places to go if someone knows where to look. It’s a tight-knit community that’s for sure. Where everyone knows everyone and whatever secrets someone has also belong to the rest of the town. It can be endearing at times but also make an individual feel claustrophobic.

She never planned on coming back here. She graduated college at fourteen and worked her ass off to save enough money to leave by the time her sixteenth birthday rolled around. In fact, that was her birthday present to herself. To get the hell out of there.

Y/N’s father died when she was six years old. He was a hero, a firefighter. He died saving a family of six from a burning house. He was the only one who didn’t make it out alive that day. He managed to get every person out with minimal injuries. Just couldn’t seem to save himself.

After he died, Y/N’s mother, Lisa L/N, was a mess. Completely ignored her daughter after her husband’s, started drinking. Y/N practically raised herself. Until her step father came into the picture. Adrian Cole. The name itself gives her sickly chills just thinking about it.

Y/N continued her studies after getting her first bachelors degree at fourteen. She ended up with a doctorate and three masters under her belt by the time she turned eighteen. The girl is what most specialists would consider a “high potential intellectual.” She has advanced cognitive abilities that contain superior pattern recognition, enhanced situational awareness, an eidetic memory, advanced deception detection, superior deductive reasoning, mental simulation/scenario building, and advanced problem solving.

She’s rather valuable to say the least.

Y/N has had the world at her fingertips since she was born. She’s smart, cunning, calculated. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn’t screw up from time to time.

Hence why she got arrested for petty theft when she was eighteen.

She had been working odd jobs for her entire life. Bouncing around from city to city, trying to find a place she could make her home. She somehow ended up in Quantico Virginia, a random bus stop on a long list of places she could go. But it had been a couple months since being there, and one week she didn’t make enough to get herself some basic grocery supplies, so she thought it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to snag a loaf of bread on the way out of one of the many grocery stores in the city. She didn’t think they’d truly care about one loaf.

Clearly, she was wrong. They apparently needed that bread way more than she did.

And that’s how she ended up the in police station. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience at first. Most of the officers just thought she was some punk kid who got a kick out of stealing. She didn’t even bother trying to explain why she did what she did because they wouldn’t believe her in the first place. And it’s not like they could put her in the system, she was eighteen.

However, as they were processing her, she noticed some of the detectives talking about a murder investigation. They had a man who was found dead in his living room, and the prime suspect was the wife who mysteriously disappeared after it happened.

The thing about having advanced cognitive abilities, is that it’s easy to get stuck inside the many wrinkles of the brain. She also has a compulsive need to correct everything she sees is wrong, and that is why she interrupted their conversation by yelling across the station that the wife is actually a second victim, not the perpetrator.

Of course, most of the detectives thought she was full of crap and didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. The commander however, seemed to have a different opinion. She asked Y/N what made her think that the wife could be a victim in the case.

That led to her explaining that the photos in the crime scene board indicate that there was a third part, and that’s who killed the husband and kidnapped the wife. She pointed out how there were microfibers on the legs of the chair in the photo and that shows how someone had been tied to it with duct tape. And it clearly couldn’t have been the husband with the way there was no ligature marks or redness on his skin.

Needless to say, they found the wife and the person who killed the husband. Turns out it was his best friend who was having an affair with their son’s school teacher. The husband knew to much and threatened to tell his best friend’s wife which led to his demise. Who would’ve thought?

After that case, the commander offered her a position as a consultant on their cases. It gave Y/N the first feeling of stability she’s had in a very long time. She was even able to save enough to buy herself an apartment in the area, and put herself through the FBI academy. Her coworkers at the station were sad when they found out she had been recruited to one of the most elite units in the agency, but they knew her potential was to great to be stuck at the precinct for the rest of her life.

That’s why she’s currently back in Baraboo, the ripe age of twenty-five, with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team. The leader, Aaron Hotchner, and the rest of the group: David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the one and only… Derek Morgan.

From the moment Y/N met Derek, they clicked. They both have very similar traits but differ in the most important ways. They somehow manage to understand each other on a level that the rest of the team can’t comprehend. The two of them share flirty and playful banter constantly. Everyone in the office thought Penelope and Derek were bad, at least until Y/N sauntered in. She distinctly remember Spencer having to leave the room, his face flushed red after hearing a conversation between Derek and Y/N.

The two always brushed it off as a joke, or something they do to cope with the darkness of the job, but there’s always been a little something more lying underneath it. Neither of them have been able to acknowledge it out loud, but it’s not hard to see.

“How does it feel to be home, Princess?” Derek asks with his signature golden smile, full intention of getting a flirty reaction from her. He cracks his back as the rest of the team gets off the jet, getting ready to split up and head to the station or to the most recent crime scene.

Y/N keeps her eyes trained in the distance, her face cold, hard almost. “This hasn’t been my home for the past nineteen years,” she replies stoically before walking off to join Hotch and Rossi by one of the SUV’s.

Derek is taken aback by her demeanor. She’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to flirt or be witty, especially with him. Y/N has always been a bit closed off, but in the same way Derek is. She doesn’t tell anyone about her past, and she’s never asked him about his. It’s one of the many things he loves about her. She didn’t push when she knew not to. In fact, the most they knew about where the other came from was home towns. Now he did share some about his family because they’re important to him, and so is Y/N, but he never delved too deep. That is until about last year when he was arrested for murdering three boys back home.

Y/N was the only one who tried to help without digging to deep into the things Derek didn’t want found. It killed her a little bit to see how Derek broke down when confronting the real perpetrator, Carl Buford, who also molested Derek as a child. That particularly made it a rough case for her, for more than one reason.

“Reid, JJ,” Hotch calls out to the two. “I want you guys to head to the station with Rossi, see if you can nail down a geographical profile.” The trio nods before heading over to their own SUV. “Prentiss, you come with me to talk to the most recent victims family. Morgan, L/N, head to the crime scene. Sheriff Mills will meet you both there to discuss the rest of the details.”

Y/N nods silently before turning back to Derek. She gestures towards the third black car waiting for them, walking past him and over towards the driver’s seat. Derek grabs her wrist gently as she tries to open the door, “Babygirl, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Following orders,” Y/N answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh-uh,” Derek shakes his head. “Get your cute little ass in that passenger seat right now.” He demands.

“Derek, we don’t have time to argue over who’s gonna drive the damn car,” Y/N snaps, completely out of character. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his nonexistent hairline, “Whoa,” he puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I just like driving you around, that’s all. I thought it was like a little silent agreement we had. You being my passenger princess.”

Y/N’s face softens, but he can still see the anger behind her eyes. There’s definitely something wrong. She’s never been like this without a reason. A small sigh escapes her pink lips, “Okay…” she mumbles, very cutely in Derek’s opinion. “You can drive.”

Without another peep, Y/N climbs into her designated spot besides Derek. He casts her an unsure glance, wondering if maybe she’ll open up to him on the way to the scene, but unfortunately the entire ride was quiet. Apart from the playlist playing in the background. They both had created it for when they were partnered together on a case.

They pull up to the scene, no words uttered between them. Y/N stares out the window, sucking in a deep breath. Her knuckles are a pale white as she clutches onto the door handle. He wants to ask her what’s going through her mind, but knows better than to push when she’s like this.

She steps out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, Derek following closely behind. As soon as they near the crime scene, she spots Sheriff Mills standing by the perimeter tape, arms crossed but eyes bright when he recognizes her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y/N L/N!” Mills calls out with a smile, his voice booming across the lot. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long’s it been?”

Y/N offers a small, genuine smile, feeling a rare sense of warmth. “Hey, Sheriff. It’s been a while. Nine years, I think.”

“Nine years,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “You disappeared on us, huh? Look at you now.” He glances over at Derek, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Y/N glances between the two men. “This is Derek Morgan, one of the best profilers at the BAU.”

Derek steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Mills replies, shaking Derek’s hand firmly before turning back to Y/N. “You always had it in you to do something big.”

Derek watches the brief exchange with interest, noting how Y/N seems more at ease around the sheriff. There was history here, but also a quiet sense of trust. The sheriff gave Y/N a comforting nod before stepping back to let them work.

They cross under the yellow tape and into the scene, where the victim’s body lay partially covered. Derek’s voice is low but steady. “What are we looking at?”

Y/N knelt beside the body, her jaw tightening as she takes in the brutal injuries. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles…looks like she was tied up, maybe tortured before…” She let her words trail off, her eyes lingering on the deep gash across the victim’s neck. “The unsub wanted control, dominance. But there’s rage here too.”

Derek nods, crouching down next to her. “The way he escalates...it’s personal. There’s something he’s trying to prove with each kill. Could be revenge or a power trip.”

Y/N swallows hard, her breath hitching for a moment as she takes in the scene. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants as if trying to rid herself of the heaviness in the air.

Derek stands too, noticing the slight shift in her demeanor. He narrows his eyes, stepping closer to her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitates, casting a glance back at the body. The familiarity of it all—the victim, her face—was a knife in her chest, twisting cruelly.

“I knew her,” Y/N finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name’s Claire. We…we went to high school together.”

Derek’s brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “You didn’t mention that at the briefing.”

She shrugs her shoulders, jaw clenching. “I didn’t think it would be relevant. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Y/N turns away, looking out into the distance as if trying to find something to balance herself, her mind.

Derek’s hand gently rests on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “If this is too much, you don’t have to–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, though the sharpness in her tone is more for herself than him. She looks at Derek, the vulnerability showing through her usual hard exterior. “I just didn’t expect this.”

Derek softens. “You don’t have to be fine, Y/N. Not here, not with me.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. But Y/N quickly broke away, determined to stay focused. “Let’s just…get back to work. We have to find this guy.”

They both turned back to the crime scene, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. But the air between them was heavier now, weighed down by the past that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Whoever did this,” Derek says quietly, “they knew how to get close. Claire trusted them.”

Y/N nods, her jaw clenched tightly. “He’s not a stranger to any of these women. He’s someone who knows how to blend in. And he’s getting more comfortable.”

Derek meets her eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They have to catch this unsub before anyone else suffers the same fate. But now, more than ever, Y/N had a personal stake in it. And Derek was going to make sure that, whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

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The police station is humming with quiet intensity, the kind of buzz that always fills the air when the team is piecing together fragments of a case. They’ve been working nonstop, and the weight of the victims is hanging over all of them. Every detail matters now, every tiny revelation could lead them closer to the truth.

Hotch stands at the head of the room, looking over the maps, notes, and pictures strewn across the table. JJ, Reid, and Rossi are gathered around, quietly talking through the geographical profile they’ve been working on. Emily leans against the wall, flipping through her notes from the victimology interviews. Derek and Y/N, just back from the most recent crime scene, stand a bit apart, their body language tense but focused.

Hotch looks up from the map, his expression sharp and business-like. “What did you find at the crime scene?”

Derek steps forward, his eyes catching Y/N’s briefly before he speaks. “The victim was restrained before she was killed. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She was tortured—cut up pretty bad across her torso. He took his time with her. Cause of death was strangulation, but the wounds came first.”

Reid frowns, looking over at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. “That suggests control. He didn’t just want to kill her, he wanted to inflict pain, assert dominance.”

Rossi nods in agreement, his tone grim. “He’s trying to break them down before killing them. Likely projecting some internal conflict, something personal.”

Y/N stands a little off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hasn’t said much since they got back, but Derek knows that look. She’s running the details over and over in her mind, trying to process everything.

Derek glances at her again before continuing. “He’s gotta be in his late 40s or 50s. Strong enough to overpower, but methodical enough to take his time with them.”

Emily pushes off the wall and approaches the table. “We’ve seen it before. Someone with deep insecurities who compensates by dominating their victims. There’s probably a sexual element involved, even if it’s not immediately obvious.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking in all the information. Then he asks, “Was there anything else? Anything personal about her?”

There’s a pause. Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking over to Y/N again. He’s been waiting for her to say something, but she’s been holding back. She looks tense, almost like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Y/N clears her throat, feeling the weight of Hotch’s attention on her. “The victim... her name was Claire.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/N shifts slightly, her voice a little quieter. “I knew her. We went to the same high school.”

That draws everyone’s attention. Reid, JJ, and Emily all look at her with surprise. Rossi’s eyes narrow in thought. Hotch’s expression shifts from curious to stern in an instant.

“You knew her?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

Y/N nods, though it’s clear she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, but... we weren’t close. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I didn’t even realize it was her until we were at the scene.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens, clearly frustrated. “And you didn’t think that was something we should’ve known?”

Before Y/N can respond, Derek steps in, his voice firm and protective. “She didn’t know until we got there, Hotch. This isn’t something she was hiding. It just hit her at the scene.”

Hotch’s gaze shifts to Derek, his expression still hard, but he doesn’t argue. There’s a beat of silence, the tension palpable in the room. Y/N looks down at the floor, her jaw clenched, clearly battling with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Reid, ever the analyst, chimes in. “If Y/N knew the victim, that could mean the unsub has a connection to her past as well. It’s possible he’s targeting women from the same community.”

JJ nods thoughtfully. “If the victims are all from the same area, it might explain how he’s able to blend in so easily. He knows them, at least in passing.”

Y/N swallows hard, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She’s never liked being the focus of attention, especially not when it comes to something this personal. She hates how it feels like she’s under a microscope right now.

Derek steps a little closer to her, his hand brushing her arm lightly, a silent reassurance. His voice softens, just for her. “You okay, babygirl?”

She forces a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rossi taps the edge of the map in front of him. “If this unsub is blending in with his victims, he’s not the type to stand out. He’s attending social gatherings, getting close to them before striking. He’s comfortable in these environments.”

“That’s how he’s avoiding detection,” Emily adds. “He’s slipping under the radar, appearing harmless.”

Sheriff Mills, who’s been standing quietly in the back of the room, finally speaks up. “You think he’s been attending community events?”

Rossi nods. “It’s likely. He’s integrating himself into their lives without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff frowns, thinking for a moment. “Well, Diane Cole—one of the most prominent women in town—she hosts a weekly Sunday luncheon. Half the community shows up after church.”

Y/N’s entire body goes rigid at the mention of the name. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. The rest of the team doesn’t miss the way her expression changes, the way she seems to freeze in place.

Hotch notices it immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Y/N? Why does that name mean something to you?”

Y/N tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping. She feels exposed, vulnerable, like the walls she’s spent years building are crumbling around her. Her voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper. “Because Diane Cole is my mother.”

The room falls silent. No one says anything for a moment as they process what she just said. The different last names had kept them from connecting the dots until now, but the revelation is staggering.

Rossi’s eyes soften with understanding, but Hotch’s expression grows darker. He takes a slow breath, his frustration evident. “You didn’t think to tell us that your mother hosts one of the biggest events in town? One that our unsub no doubt plucks his victims from?”

Y/N shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly. “She and I... we haven’t spoken in years. I left home when I was sixteen, Hotch. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to connect with my mother. She’s not—” She stops herself, not wanting to open that door. “She’s not apart of my life. We’re not close.”

Hotch is clearly irritated, but before he can say anything else, Derek puts his hand on Y/N’s back, his voice low and calm, but with a protective edge. “Look, Hotch, this isn’t easy for her. She’s not keeping things from us on purpose. Let’s just focus on what we know and move forward.”

Hotch stares at Derek for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he nods, letting the issue drop for now. “Alright. The luncheon is our best lead. Y/N, Derek, Emily—you three will come with me and we’ll see if anyone stands out. We need to be cautious. We don’t know what this guy looks like yet, but he’s dangerous.”

Y/N swallows hard, nodding along with the rest of the team. She feels Derek’s steady presence beside her, his hand on her arm again, grounding her. She meets his eyes for a brief moment, grateful for his unwavering support.

“We got this,” Derek murmurs, just for her. His voice is soft but full of confidence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yeah. We do.”

As the team breaks off to prepare for the next steps, Y/N lingers for a moment, the weight of what’s to come settling heavily on her shoulders. She’s about to walk back into a part of her life she thought she’d left behind for good, and the thought terrifies her. But with Derek by her side, she knows she can face it. She has to.

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The drive to Y/N’s childhood home is filled with a heavy silence. Derek occasionally glances over at her, but she stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. He knows she’s shutting down, retreating into herself as the memories she’s been trying to bury claw their way to the surface. The tension in her body has been there ever since they received word that the unsub might be attending her mother’s Sunday luncheon, and it hasn’t left her since.

As the car pulls up to the house, Y/N’s stomach knots. The familiar two-story building looms in front of them, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day she left nine years ago. The white picket fence, the flower beds her mother used to tend to religiously—everything looks frozen in time, untouched by the years she’s been gone.

Derek cuts the engine and turns to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

Y/N swallows hard, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.”

She isn’t sure. Not even close. But she’s here for the case, and that’s what matters. She can’t afford to let her emotions get in the way of the investigation, no matter how much being here is already tearing her apart.

They step out of the car, and Derek moves beside her, a steady presence as they walk up the path. Hotch and Prentiss are already ahead, scanning the area as they approach the front door. Y/N’s eyes flick around, taking in the familiar sights—the swing set that used to creak with the wind, the porch steps she used to sit on every evening, staring at the stars. All of it feels distant, like a life that belongs to someone else.

As soon as they step onto the porch, the front door swings open. Diane Cole, Y/N’s mother, stands in the doorway, her face lighting up in a wide smile. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice filled with warmth and hospitality as if no time has passed at all. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long!”

Y/N’s body tenses as her mother wraps her in a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume—familiar, suffocating—fills Y/N’s nostrils. She stands stiffly, arms at her sides, not reciprocating the hug. She can feel Derek’s eyes on her, the weight of his concern palpable, but she doesn’t move.

Diane pulls back, her hands still on Y/N’s shoulders, beaming at her. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s coldness or, if she does, she ignores it. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand. “Everyone’s already here. We were just about to start lunch.”

Y/N steps inside the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet making her stomach turn. The smell of roast chicken wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It’s all so painfully familiar, like stepping back into the life she left behind.

Hotch and Prentiss follow them in, their eyes scanning the room, already analyzing the guests milling about. Derek stays close to Y/N’s side, his presence grounding her, but even that isn’t enough to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

As they move into the living room, Diane can’t seem to stop talking. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here. We do this every Sunday, you know. Just a little gathering after church. Keeps the community close.”

Y/N nods absently, her eyes flicking around the room. She’s searching for something—someone—though she’s not entirely sure who she’s looking for. The unsub is here. That much they know. But standing in this house, surrounded by people she hasn’t seen in years, feels like walking through a minefield.

Diane turns to Derek, her smile still plastered on her face. “And who’s this?”

Diane’s smile widens. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home. We’ve got plenty of food, and if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies politely, though his attention is already back on Y/N. He can see how tense she is, the way her eyes are darting around the room, scanning faces, assessing the crowd. She’s in work mode, but there’s something deeper, something more personal eating away at her.

As they move further into the house, Diane continues to chatter, offering drinks, asking about their work, pretending as though she hasn’t been estranged from her daughter for nearly a decade. Y/N barely listens, her mind racing as she takes in every detail, every face.

As they began to split up, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always preferred to keep her distance from the noise and chaos of family gatherings, and today was no different. “I’ll check the backyard,” she suggested, hoping to create some space between herself and the tension inside.

“Be careful,” Derek said quietly, watching her with concern as she slipped outside.

Once she stepped into the backyard, the sun was almost too bright, illuminating the vibrant flowers in the garden but doing nothing to warm the coldness settling in her bones. She leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, breathing deeply, attempting to ground herself.

For a moment, it was quiet. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, allowing Y/N to momentarily escape the chaos inside. But just as she started to relax, the back door creaked open. She turned to see Adrian, her stepfather, stepping onto the porch. The brightness of the day dulled as he approached, his confident demeanor wrapping around her like a shroud.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth. “It’s been a long time.”

Y/N stiffened, her pulse quickening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady despite the rising tide of panic.

“I came to check in on you,” he takes a silly step closer to her. “You’ve grown up so much,” he said, his eyes scanning her with a mixture of familiarity and something more invasive. “You know, your mother is worried about you. You should visit more often.”

Y/N felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking on,” she replied firmly, trying to keep her tone from betraying her nerves. “And I have a busy job. I don’t have time for trivial visits.”

“Really? You’re fine? Because you look like you’re about to bolt. I thought we were past this.” Adrian’s voice turned sharper, an edge of annoyance creeping in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At that moment, Derek stepped out onto the porch, instantly sensing the tension in the air. He glanced between Y/N and Adrian, picking up on the shift in Y/N's posture—the way her shoulders were tense and how she seemed to shrink back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Adrian turned his gaze to Derek, sizing him up as if trying to gauge his intentions. “And who might you be?” he asked, feigning curiosity but with a hint of challenge.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan with the BAU,” Derek replied, his tone neutral but his stance protective. “We’re here to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Adrian scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need to investigate in a place like this? It’s just a house.”

“Everything in here could be important,” Derek replied evenly, maintaining eye contact. He felt the tension simmering in the air, aware that any hint of aggression could escalate quickly.

Adrian took a step closer to Y/N, invading her space. “Well, Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, don’t we? Family matters are important. So I think it would be best for you to continue your investigation inside.” There was an underlying threat in his tone, one that made Derek’s instincts flare.

Derek shifted forward, placing himself between Adrian and Y/N, his presence a solid wall. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” he said firmly, glancing back at Y/N, searching for reassurance in her eyes. “I think you should give her some space.”

Adrian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his confidence cracking as he tried to reassert himself. “Space? I’m her stepfather. I have every right to speak to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to make her uncomfortable,” Derek replied, his voice steady but edged with authority. He wasn’t here to play games—he needed to protect Y/N, especially if something felt off.

Adrian’s smile faded as he took another step forward, his eyes darkening. “You’re just some guy, aren’t you? An FBI agent trying to play hero. What do you know about family?”

Derek squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. “I know that family should support one another, not intimidate. And from what I can see, you’re not doing that.”

Y/N felt the tension spike, her heart racing as she sensed Adrian’s irritation boiling beneath the surface. Derek was standing his ground, but she could see the way Adrian’s demeanor shifted—his posture becoming more aggressive.

Adrian’s gaze flicked between Derek and Y/N, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t know her like I do. I’m trying to help her,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to Derek, trying to assert dominance.

“Help her?” Derek echoed incredulously, his tone clipped. “By pressuring her? You’re not helping anyone but yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” Adrian warned, his voice turning low and menacing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Adrian, matching his intensity. “And you don’t know who you’re threatening. Back off.”

Just then, Y/N felt the walls closing in around her. Adrian’s words were wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing her heart and pushing her instincts into overdrive. She could feel herself being pulled in two different directions—Derek’s protective stance grounding her but also reminding her of the past she was trying to escape.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his tone shifting again as he turned back to her, that familiar manipulation creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to listen to him. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head, the memories crashing over her like a wave. “I don’t need you to look out for me,” she said, her voice firm but low, trying to keep it steady as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’m done with that.”

Derek shot her a glance, noticing the shift in her demeanor. “Y/N, you okay?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the strain in her tone betrayed her.

Adrian smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. “Look how protective you are of her,” he said to Derek, his voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Enough,” Derek said sharply, stepping further in front of Y/N, his body a shield. “You’re crossing a line.”

Adrian’s demeanor darkened, his posture becoming more aggressive as he looked back at Derek, trying to assert his dominance. “You think you can just waltz in here and play protector?”

“Believe me man, I’m not playing,” Derek replied, his voice low and steady.

That was when Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her. She couldn’t stand it. Adrian’s presence, the memories flooding back, and the way Derek was standing up for her—it was all too much. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly toward the front door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Y/N!” Derek called after her, but she was already moving, her heart pounding in her ears.

She rushed through the living room, her mind racing. She felt a wave of anxiety surge as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, but it felt distant, almost cold.

“Y/N! What happened?” Prentiss shouted, following her outside. The concern in her voice echoed in Y/N’s mind.

“I just... need a minute,” Y/N replied quietly, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Hotch stepped outside, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Nothing,” Y/N breathes heavily, her chest heaving from anxiety and anger. “Nothing, I-I I’m fine.” She didn’t want to relive it; she didn’t want to talk about Adrian or the past. “I don’t want to discuss this.” She shakes her head rapidly.

“Why are you upset?” Prentiss pressed gently, her eyes filled with concern.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Y/N finally snaps, her voice slightly rising as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She turned away from them, needing to find a way to breathe, to think without the weight of their gazes on her.

“Y/N, please,” Derek said softly, stepping closer but remaining respectful of her space. “Talk to us. We’re here to help.”

She shook her head, feeling the panic rising within her. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just– I cant. I’ll jeopardize the case if I go back in there. And I can’t do that to those women. I can’t mess this up.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the SUV parked at the curb, the need to retreat overwhelming her. She climbed into the back seat, shutting the door firmly behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, desperately trying to find calm in the chaos that had erupted.

“Y/N!” Derek called again, but she didn’t respond, her heart racing as she stared out the window, willing the memories to stay buried and the present to fade away.

The team gathered outside, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as they exchanged worried glances. “What do we do?” Prentiss asked, glancing from Hotch to Derek.

“We give her space,” Hotch replied, his voice steady. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Derek clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew that pushing would only make things worse. “I hate this,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the SUV.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to find calm in the chaos swirling around her. She couldn’t let Adrian’s presence ruin everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to build. But deep down, she knew the shadows of her past wouldn’t let her go so easily.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Walking back into the police station, Y/N managed to get the entire teams attention without even speaking. The unfortunate part about working with such observant people is that even if she breathes a little too heavy, they can tell exactly what she’s thinking. And let’s just say her breathing is way different than what they would consider her “normal.”

Spencer, JJ, and Rossi all watch with concerned eyes as Y/N practically storms into the designated room they have for the case, slamming the door behind her. The glass windows shake from the force and she places her hands on the table before zeroing in on the case board in front of her.

Hotch, Emily, and Derek walk in, their own cautious gaze setting everyone on edge. Rossi looks at the trio, pointing back at the fuming agent in the other room. “What happened there?”

Hotch states after his younger agent, tilting his head as he tries to gauge whether she’s more upset or angry from beyond the window. “Something set her off at the house,” he answers.

“Not something, someone,” Emily corrects with a worried sighs. “As soon as her stepfather showed up, it was like her entire world stopped. And not in a good way.”

“Stepfather?” JJ furrows her eyebrows.

“Adrian Cole,” Reid answers for them, causing everyone to look at him confused.

“And how did you know that?” Hotch questions flatly.

“When she mentioned Diane was her mother, I did some digging and asked some of the other officers about her,” Reid admits with a harsh swallow as he notices Morgan glaring in his direction. No doubt for probing into Y/N’s life. “Diane got married to Adrian when Y/N was eight years old. Three years after her father died. He’s currently fifty-two, eight years older than Diane. I guess everyone was pretty surprised to find out they were seeing each other,” Reid reveals. “Sheriff Mills told me that it was the talk of the town when it originally happened. Adrian was kind of a recluse, not approached by many, kind of a ‘creep’ as described by the deputies,” he gestures over in the other direction. “So it was surprising to find out that Diane ended up with him, especially since she married her high school sweetheart, Y/N’s father, Daniel L/N.”

“So she kept her father’s last name,” Rossi points out, glancing back over to Y/N. “Shows how much she truly wanted to distance herself from her mother. Not taking her new husband’s last name.”

“Or maybe she was just closer with her dad,” JJ suggests.

“Or maybe her stepfather never got over his ‘creep’ reputation,” Emily scoffs out. “Gotta admit, if he was my stepdad, I wouldn’t want his last name either. I mean, the way he walked up to Y/N… it was almost predatory.”

Derek stands off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He listens to the conversation but doesn’t say anything yet. He’s been watching Y/N closely ever since they walked into her mother’s house, noticing every shift in her demeanor, every tell-tale sign that she was far from okay. Now, hearing the others discuss her like she’s some puzzle to solve only makes his jaw tighten.

“We can’t just sit here and talk about her like she’s not in the other room,” Derek’s voice breaks them out of their conversation. “We shouldn’t be discussing and probing into her life without talking to her first.”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to talk, Derek,” Emily points out. “She kind of bit our heads off when we originally tried to get something out of her. We’re just trying to get an idea so we can help.”

“Well maybe instead of talking about her we should be talking to her,” Derek says snippily. “Then we might actually be able to get her to open up.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, “You think she’ll open up?”

“To me? Oh, I know she will,” Derek nods his head confidently. “She trusts me. If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s me.” He says, his voice steady, though there’s an edge of protectiveness in his tone.

Without waiting for anyone else to respond, Derek heads toward the room where Y/N disappeared. The others exchange quick glances, knowing Morgan has a point. He’s closer to Y/N than anyone else on the team, and if she’s going to talk to anyone, it’s him.

Inside the room, Y/N stands in front of the caseboard, her eyes scanning over the photos and files without really seeing them. Her mind is racing, and it’s written all over her face. Derek walks in quietly, closing the door behind him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening as he sees the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping the edges of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Princess," he says softly, using the nickname he knows she responds to when she’s upset. "You okay?"

Y/N doesn’t turn around, her voice coming out strained. "I’m fine, Derek."

He takes a step closer, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you’re not. Talk to me."

She lets out a shaky breath, still not looking at him. "It’s... it’s nothing. I just—there’s too much going on. I need to focus."

Derek’s not buying it. He steps closer until he’s standing next to her, he gently places his pointer finger under her chin, lifting her head up to him. "Y/N, look at me."

Reluctantly, she allows him to lovingly adjust her head, her eyes meeting his. The moment their gazes lock, Derek can see it—the fear, the anger, the confusion. She’s holding it all in, trying to keep herself together, but it’s a losing battle.

"You don’t have to do this alone babygirl,” Derek says softly, his voice full of concern. "Whatever’s going on, you know I’ve got your back."

For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away from him again. "It’s just... I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know what to do, what to say,” she huffs frustratedly. “Things are a lot more complicated than everyone thinks they are.”

He watches her, giving her the space she needs but staying close, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just talk to me."

Y/N’s breath hitches, and she suddenly steps back from the caseboard, running a hand through her hair as she starts to pace. "It’s not just about Adrian, okay? There’s... there’s something else."

Derek watches her carefully, his eyes tracking her movements as she starts to unravel. "What is it?"

Y/N’s mind is moving a million miles a minute, pieces clicking together as she starts connecting the dots. She stops pacing and stares at the board again, her heart pounding. "I found the connection," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s brow furrows. "What?"

Y/N swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she starts flipping through the files. "It’s me,” she admits shakily. “I’m the connection,” she rushes out, throwing files left and right. “The girls. I know all of them. I guess I haven’t been processing faces until now, trying to block out the memories I have here, but I can’t do it anymore. These women…” her hands tremble as she moves. “They’re dead because they knew me.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Morgan places his hands on her shoulders gently to get her to stop rambling. “What do you mean you’re the connection? You haven’t been here in over nine years.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, letting the warmth of Derek’s hands try to slow her mind. It works momentarily, but does nothing to slow her racing heart at the realization that she could be the key to this entire case. And she did exactly what she promised she wouldn’t. She jeopardized it. Ignored the fact she faintly recognized each victim. Ignored the nagging feeling in her brain that something was off. Thats why the team has been struggling to track the unsub, because they’ve been missing one key element. The connection between the victims. Why he picks them.

“They were all part of the same support group I was in when I was a teenager.” She swallows thickly, rubbing her now sweaty, nervous hands on her slacks. “All of them. That’s why I recognized Claire... and the others.”

Derek steps closer, his voice low but urgent. “A support group? For what?”

Y/N’s chest tightens as the memories flood back, memories she’s tried so hard to bury. "For survivors of abuse. Sexual abuse."

There’s a beat of silence as Derek processes what she’s just said. His jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking in even harder. "Y/N..."

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes dart across the files, her mind racing as she speaks faster. "This isn’t just random. He’s targeting them, Derek. The girls from the group. I don’t know why, but he’s going after them. And now... now it’s happening again. They went through something so evil and vile as kids and now… now they’re being killed for it.”

Derek takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grab her arm, grounding her. "Hey, slow down. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this."

“Derek, what if that means I’m next?” She asks him. “We have five victims, and there was only six people in the group. I’m the only one left.” She moves back to the case board, trying to see if any new information will reveal itself after this epiphany. “And it-it’s not like a lot of people knew about it…” she mumbles. “It was a private group, very secluded. It was us and whoever we chose to tell about our experience.”

“Babygirl…” The way Derek calls out to her, she can already tell exactly what question he’s going to ask next. Which is the main reason why she didn’t tell him sooner. She’s been trying to avoid the answer to this question for her entire life.

“Who did this to you?”

Y/N freezes, her eyes traveling down to her feet. She fights off the tears welling behind her eyes, needing to stay strong. This can’t have a hold over her anymore. She can’t keep living like this. In terror of returning to the place she used to call home.

“Adrian,” she says, her voice cracking. She doesn’t even have to turn to Derek to know his fists are clenched. She can feel the anger radiating off of him at the revelation. It all makes sense to him now. Why Y/N’s been acting off since getting to Baraboo, why she was uncomfortable in her childhood home, why she looked like she wanted to run and hide the second Adrian approached her. He violated her in a way no person should ever be violated. In a way that he understands all too well.

He manages to get ahold of his fury, walking closer to her. He sits down in the chair directly next to her body. He reaches out, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “How long?” He asks, a pained tone in his voice.

She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, “Ten to fourteen,” she says barely above a whisper. “I went to the support group until I left for college at sixteen.” Y/N sits down next to him, almost hiding within herself. “Most of the other girls were older than me,” her eyes barely graze over the crime scene photos.

“Babygirl, this went on for four years? Did you tell anyone?” Derek wonders, not judging because he didn’t say anything either.

“I tried–” her voice cracks again as she chokes back her tears. She clears her throat to regain her composure, “I told my mom,” she admits quietly. “But she didn’t believe me. She told him I told her and that’s when things went downhill. She called me a liar, told me no one would believe me. Adrian played the victim throughout the whole thing, but the same night he came into my room and–” she sucks in a deep breath. “He told me it was my fault. That he was being so nice to me for doing what he was doing. Told me I wouldn’t make it without him or his help. And I was just a kid,” she sniffles. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t defend myself because I believed him. And my own mother didn’t even think I was telling the truth. How could I tell the police?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but moves forward to pull her in for a hug. He holds her tightly and she slowly melts into his chest. They both can feel the eyes of the team on them, but choose to ignore it. “That’s why I went to the support group.” She continues, slightly muffled by Derek’s chest. “Because they were feeling the same way I was. Even if the people who did it to them were caught and put away, they still understood what it felt like.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to have to relive this, but I gotta ask… Who else knew about these meetings?” He lifts her head up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyone that you can think of. If you truly believe you are the key to this case, you’re the only one who would know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N says honestly. “Whenever I would go I would say it was for tutoring or book club. I didn’t want them to know I was looking for help. But the other girls could’ve told someone. I don’t think they did though. When we went it was for us. To help us cope. We didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else because we had each other.” Her forehead creases as she tries to think of someone who could’ve been aware. “I guess the only other person who would’ve known is the girl who facilitated it. She graduated five years before I even got there. Got a degree in psychology. I think she actually became a therapist here.”

“Would she have told anyone?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “She was big on confidentiality. That’s why we all trusted her.” She thinks back to try and remember any detail she could. “Her name is Candy Brown. Dark hair, a couple inches shorter than me, real organized, had set schedules and certain ticks. Like borderline OCD. She would have to click her pen three times when moving onto a new person while taking notes.”

“She kept records?” Derek’s face suddenly morphs into one of extreme concern. “Y/N, if she wrote down everything you guys ever told her, someone could’ve easily found the notes and that’s how our unsub got his information. That’s how he could’ve figured out who was in the group.”

“We need to tell the team,” Y/N looks out the window towards the group of people who haven’t moved since Derek came to talk to her.

“Baby–”

“No,” she shakes her head, using her right hand to cup the side of his face. She looks him in the eyes genuinely for the first time since arriving in Wisconsin. “It’s okay,” Y/N reassures him. “This is information that pertains to the case and can help catch our unsub. They need to know.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

After telling the team all about her past, Y/N felt embarrassed but overall relieved. She could tell they were heartbroken for her, but none of them went too overboard with it, knowing it would make things worse if they coddled her over it. She was grateful to have Derek with her. She wouldn’t have been able to get through it without having a panic attack if he wasn’t holding her hand all the way through it.

Hotch sent her and Derek to find Candy and ask if she had lost her notes in recent months while him and the rest of the team delivered the more updated profile. Now that they had all the information, they could get a better idea of who this guy is.

Y/N was almost in awe of how large Candy’s building was. Sheriff Mills had given her and Derek the directions to get there, and it was almost refreshing seeing someone from that time in Y/N’s life flourishing. Especially since the other girls didn’t even get the chance to.

Walking into the office, Derek and Y/N flash their badges at the receptionist, informing her of who they are and why they’re here. She quickly guides them to Candy who is fervently writing down information.

“She just got done with a patient,” the receptionist whispers. “She’ll be done any second now.”

Suddenly the dark haired woman’s head shoots up, but not before clicking her pen three times. The same thing she needed to do when trying to move on from person to person.

“Candy Brown,” Derek begins, walking up to the woman to respectfully shake her hand. Y/N follows after him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is–”

“Y/N L/N,” Candy finishes, a mixture of shock and confusion in her voice. A small smile crosses her face as she takes in the now adult woman in front of her. “Wow,” she breathes out. “I haven’t seen you in–”

“Nine years?” Y/N finishes.

Candy nods, “Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows, looking in between her and Derek, “What’s going on? I know your guys’ team is here investigating the murders, but why are you here?” She asks curiously.

“You remember the support group you created when I was here?” Y/N immediately jumps into the conversation, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yes?”

Y/N takes another step forward, analyzing the room around her, “I don’t know if you realized, but all of the victims were participants in the group.”

“Of course I realized,” Candy says. “That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you not only came back but are also working on a case where you could be a potential target.”

“And you weren’t worried about being a target?” Derek asks, brow quirked.

“No,” Candy answers with a small shrug. “After he killed Laura-”

“The second victim,” Y/N adds for clarification.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “After I found out she was killed, I knew it was a matter of time before the others went.”

“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Derek folds his arms, not understanding how she has so much intel on the case.

She swallows thickly, looking around and avoiding eye contact with the two agents. Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes which makes the shorter woman squirm. “Candy…?” Y/N says expectantly.

“I thought they would’ve told you by now,” Candy starts. “I had a different office before this one. My old one burned down after it was burglarized.” Her explanation makes Y/N’s stomach twist in multiple different directions. Her and Derek make eye contact, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Let me guess, this all happened around two months ago?” Derek sighs when he watches Candy nod her head.

“Yeah. So someone did tell you?”

“No,” Y/N corrects. “That’s just when our unsub started killing.” She looks at Candy with a serious expression, “Listen, I need you to think long and hard about who could’ve had access to your office. Who also might’ve taken too much of an interest in the work you do with sexual abuse survivors.”

Derek elaborates more on the profile, “He should be a white male, late 40s to early 50s. He acts confident as a way to overcompensate for his past failures. He can be a bit of a creep sometimes but tries to cover it up with a facade of charm. He’s become an influential member of the community, but he wasn’t always that way. He had to claw his way up.”

Candy’s brows are furrowed in thought as she thinks deeply about what they’ve said. Her mind goes over the different people that were employed with her, those who spoke to her about her work, who showed interest. That’s when her eyes light up. She looks at Y/N, her lip quivering.

“What?” Y/N asks, immediately noticing the shift. “Candy, what is it?”

“The only other person who could’ve had access to my office in the other building was the cleaner I hired,” she answers. “I hired a third party to come later at night so my day janitors and custodians could go home earlier during the day.”

“Do you remember who this third party is?” Derek asks urgently, getting ready to phone Hotch.

Candy’s face falls, “It was Adrian,” she reveals quietly. Y/N feels like she’s been shot in the chest when the words leave her old friend’s lips. “He’s had this free lance cleaning business for some time now. It’s been pretty successful with all the small businesses around here. He was always asking questions after my meetings, but I would never tell him much. You know I wouldn’t betray Doctor-patient confidentiality like that.” Y/N nods along with the statement. “But after you left, the girls continued to see me. We met in group settings until I built my practice and then they started coming individually. Just for someone to talk to.”

“Did you still keep handwritten notes?” Y/N questions.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “It’s the most efficient way for me to keep my thoughts organized. But there was one evening I remember that Claire came in and she was telling me how she felt isolated from the community. It was something all the girls had been hinting at, but I didn’t take it seriously until I realized all of them had said it. I was frustrated that I didn’t see them all asking me for help. So when Adrian came in that night, I just said that some of my clients felt alone.” She mentally facepalms, “I know I shouldn’t have even engaged in conversation, but he was just being so involved and nice about it. That’s when he told me to invite them to your mom’s luncheon.”

“And did they go?” Derek questions.

“Yes,” Candy nods. “I encouraged them to go together as emotional support. They all went to the same one.”

Y/N sighs, realizing they’ve already spoken to their unsub and let him get away. “And let me guess, it was the Sunday before your office was burglarized?”

Candy rubs a hand over her face, “And their files were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Y/N, we need to call Hotch,” Derek tells her seriously. “We’re gonna need backup.”

She nods, a more than determined expression on her face. “Let’s go.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Rolling up to her mother’s house twice within the span of a day was unexpected for Y/N, but she’s determined now more than ever to make sure this visit leaves an impact. The woman is the first one out of an SUV, darting towards the door with her gun ready in her hands. Derek follows closely behind, accompanied by Hotch and the rest of the team.

Diane’s car is in the driveway, so Y/N knows this isn’t going to go as smoothly as she desires. If she could just go in and take Adrian down, she would. But she knows her mother is going to try and fight it.

Hotch gives the signal, and Derek pushes the door open, stepping in first with Y/N close behind. The rest of the team fans out, guns at the ready, but Y/N’s focus is singular: Adrian.

Diane is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up, startled to see them. “Y/N?” she says, her voice warm with surprise. She stands, smiling tentatively, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s throat tightens as she looks at her mother. The warmth, the confusion in Diane’s eyes—it almost feels like any other visit, except this time, it’s not. “We need to talk to Adrian,” Y/N says, her voice steady but distant.

Diane frowns, glancing at the rest of the team behind her daughter. “What’s going on? Why do you need to talk to him?” Her smile fades slightly, but there’s still an air of disbelief as if this can’t possibly be serious.

Hotch steps in, his voice professional, calm. “Where’s Adrian, Mrs. Cole? We need to speak with him.”

Diane looks between Y/N and the team, her confusion deepening. “He’s in the bathroom. But what’s this about?”

Y/N feels the familiar dread creeping in, the same doubt her mother always carried. She avoids Diane’s gaze and nods toward the hallway, signaling to Derek and Rossi. “Go get him.”

As Derek and Rossi head toward the hallway, Diane’s tone shifts, becoming more defensive. “Wait, Y/N, what’s going on? You can’t just barge in here—”

Y/N feels a knot form in her chest, but before she can respond, Derek’s voice calls out, sharp. “Adrian! We know you’re in there. It’s over!”

There’s a clatter from the bathroom, followed by silence. Y/N’s eyes dart toward the hallway, tension crackling between them all. She can’t breathe, waiting for the door to open, for Adrian to step out.

Diane’s face hardens now, the warmth fading. “Wait, you think Adrian had something to do with these murders you’re here for?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “This is absurd. He hasn’t done anything!”

Derek reappears at the doorway, his eyes locked on Adrian as he exits the bathroom. Adrian’s face is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to his voice as he looks from Derek to Y/N. “What’s this about?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Y/N says, her voice breaking the silence, though her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. The weight of her past is crashing down all at once. “We know you found out about my old support group and have been preying on the women.”

Diane’s eyes widen in shock, her voice turning sharp. “Wait—what? This is what you’re accusing him of?” She turns to Y/N, disbelief clear in her expression. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’ve always had it out for Adrian—”

“Mrs. Cole, stop,” Derek interrupts, his voice firm as he steps between Y/N and her mother. His protective instincts kick in, but there’s a bite in his words now as he faces Diane directly. “You didn’t believe her then, and I get that you don’t wanna believe her now, but this isn’t a game. He’s connected to multiple murders.”

Diane’s face turns pale as the words sink in, but she shakes her head, her hands trembling slightly. “You’re wrong,” she says, her voice breaking. “Adrian wouldn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Y/N feels the sting of her mother’s disbelief. After everything, Diane still won’t accept it. Derek glances at Y/N, his voice lowering but full of fire. “She’s your daughter. You should’ve protected her. Instead, you’re defending him.”

Adrian looks like he’s about to speak when Diane steps in front of him, as if shielding him. “Y/N, this is insane. You’re arresting him for murders? You’re destroying our family—again!”

Y/N snaps, emotion flooding into her voice, “Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand what’s happening right now?” She doesn’t want to raise her voice, but it’s like years of anger are bubbling to the surface. “He hurt me. He manipulated me, and now other women are dead because of him!”

Diane looks at Y/N with wide eyes, as if she can’t process what she’s hearing. “You’re lying,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “You’re making this all up. You always blamed Adrian for everything—”

Y/N’s heart twists painfully in her chest. Even now, her mother doesn’t believe her. Derek’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, practically growling now. “She’s not lying. She’s been through enough, and it’s time you started listening to her instead of defending this monster.”

Adrian, sensing that things are slipping out of his control, sneers at Derek. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Derek’s eyes are sharp as he glares back, full of unspoken anger. “I know enough.”

Hotch steps in then, signaling Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. “We’re taking him in,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

Diane stumbles backward as Morgan pulls Adrian’s arms behind his back to cuff him. “You can’t do this!” Diane cries out, her hands shaking as she reaches for Adrian.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back,” Prentiss warns, her voice firm but not unkind.

Diane turns to Y/N, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens again, the pain almost unbearable as she looks at her mother. “I didn’t do this. He did.”

As they haul Adrian toward the door, Derek stays by Y/N’s side, his hand gently resting on her arm. He leans in, his voice softening just for her. “You alright?”

Y/N can barely nod. “I just… I need this to be over.”

Derek squeezes her arm gently, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. “We’ll make sure it is,” he says quietly. “He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As Adrian is led out, Y/N watches him disappear through the door, the weight of everything she’s carried for so long finally starting to lift. Derek stays close, his protective presence like a shield around her.

“I should’ve seen this sooner,” Y/N whispers, her voice full of regret.

Derek looks at her, his eyes full of something deeper, something he hasn’t said yet. “This isn’t on you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ve got him now.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart pounding, but there’s a strange sense of relief starting to creep in. Maybe, finally, this part of her life is coming to an end.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

In the interrogation room, Adrian Cole lounges in his seat, his cocky smile never wavering as Hotch and Derek sit across from him. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow, but Adrian is undisturbed, clearly enjoying himself. His eyes flick between Hotch and Derek, and there’s something calculating in the way he looks at them, like he’s already planning his next move.

Hotch keeps his voice steady, professional. “Adrian, we know about your connection to the women in the support group. Candy Brown confirmed that you used to work for her, that you were asking questions about the survivors. You were studying them, weren’t you? Figuring out how to get close.”

Adrian leans back in his chair, chuckling lightly. “Questions? You mean me being polite? Curious, maybe? Come on, Agent, that’s hardly a crime.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed. “You fit the profile. We know you’ve been stalking these women. We know Y/N was your real target all along.”

Adrian’s smile grows wider, his eyes shifting to Derek. “Oh, Agent Morgan. I see why you’re here now.” He leans forward, the playful tone in his voice turning darker. “This isn’t about the profile, is it? It’s about her. You’re here because of Y/N.”

Derek’s gaze hardens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I’m here because of what you did.”

“What I did?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, mockingly confused. “You mean what you think I did. You’re just mad because you know I got to her first.”

The air in the room seems to thicken with tension as Adrian watches Derek’s reaction, clearly enjoying the game he’s playing. Hotch tries to redirect. “This isn’t about Y/N. It’s about the six women you killed.”

But Adrian’s eyes stay locked on Derek. “Six women… sure, that’s bad. But you know what’s worse, Derek?” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Knowing she’ll never be yours. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to protect her, you’ll always be too late. You can’t fix what’s already broken.”

Derek clenches his fists under the table, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces himself to stay calm. Adrian’s words are cutting deep, hitting exactly where he intended.

“You’re wrong,” Derek growls, barely keeping his composure. “She’s stronger than you think. And you’ll never touch her again.”

Adrian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Strong? Sure. Strong enough to get away from me last time. But the thing is, Derek… people like her? They always come back. It’s just a matter of time.”

Derek leans in, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ll rot in prison before you ever get that chance.”

Adrian sits back, casually crossing his arms over his chest, his grin widening. “We’ll see.”

Hotch, sensing Derek’s rising anger, stands up. “We’re done here.”

Derek hesitates for a split second, his eyes still locked on Adrian, but then he rises as well. Adrian chuckles lowly and his eyes follow Derek as he moves toward the door. “Leaving already, Derek?” Adrian’s voice drips with mockery. “Y/N must have told you everything by now. How she couldn’t resist, how much she used to like it when I—”

Derek spins back around, his anger breaking through for just a second. “You need to shut your mouth.”

Adrian’s smile only widens as he leans forward, reveling in Derek’s reaction. “Touched a nerve, did I? Guess it’s not just Y/N’s mind I wormed my way into, huh?”

Before Derek can step closer, Hotch holds out an arm, signaling him to back down. He knows Adrian is trying to bait Derek into losing control. “We’re leaving,” Hotch repeats firmly.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room shuts, Derek finally lets the anger show on his face. “That guy is a real piece of work,” he mutters under his breath. He paces, trying to rein in his emotions. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer are waiting, their expressions tense.

Hotch nods, his expression grim. “He knows how to manipulate, how to get under people’s skin. That’s why he’s dangerous. But we need a confession.”

Derek shoots him a look, his voice hard. “You’re not seriously thinking about sending Y/N in there.”

“She’s the only one he’ll talk to,” Hotch replies, his tone even, though there’s clear discomfort in his eyes. “He’s too focused on her. He won’t crack for us, but with her, he might.”

“She doesn’t need to be anywhere near that psycho,” Prentiss adds, backing Derek up.

Rossi nods, his arms crossed. “He’ll try to manipulate her, Hotch. He’ll push all her buttons. You know how dangerous that could be.”

Hotch looks around at the team, his face unreadable, but resolute. “He’s not going to talk to anyone else. Y/N’s the reason this is all happening—he’s fixated on her. If we want a confession, we need her.”

Derek is still pacing, shaking his head in frustration. “Hotch, you know what he’ll do. He’ll tear her apart mentally.”

“Derek…” Y/N’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps forward, her face calm but determined. “I need to do this.”

Derek looks at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “No, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. Let someone else handle it.”

Y/N meets his gaze, her voice steady. “It has to be me. He won’t talk to anyone else, and you know it. I’m the one who has to end this.”

Derek runs a hand over his face, still conflicted, but he knows she’s right. He can see the resolve in her eyes, the same determination that’s been driving her since this case started. After a long moment, he nods, though it clearly kills him to do so. “Fine. But I’m right outside the door. The second you need me, I’m coming in.”

Y/N gives him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

With a final glance at the rest of the team, Y/N walks into the interrogation room. Adrian’s eyes light up the moment he sees her, his grin returning.

“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s just been handed a gift. “I knew you’d come.” His eyes flicker with amusement as he takes in her demeanor. She’s calm. No sign of fear on her face, making his fists clench. “You always were a clever girl, Y/N. Smart enough to know what you wanted but never strong enough to follow through. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve won.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I didn’t come here to win anything, Adrian. I came here to end this.”

He scoffs, leaning forward again, his tone dropping to a darker pitch. “End what? You think locking me up will change anything? You’ll still be thinking about me. You’ll always be connected to me. You and I, Y/N, we’re the same.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a tight smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like you, Adrian. I’m stronger because I don’t need to control anyone to feel powerful. You? You’re nothing. You never were. You thought you had control over me, but really, you were just a pathetic coward trying to feel important.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens, but Y/N can see the flicker of anger behind his eyes. She presses on, her voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone.

“You couldn’t control me, Adrian. That’s why you went after those other women. You thought by killing them, you’d finally feel like you had power over something. But deep down, you knew the truth. You’re impotent. You can’t control anyone, least of all me.”

His hand twitches on the table, and his smirk falters. Y/N knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Adrian hisses, his voice venomous. “You think you’re untouchable? I killed those women because they were weak! They were nothing compared to you! But I did it for you. Every one of them, Y/N! Every one was for you, to remind you of what I can do.”

His face twists with fury as he leans in, practically spitting the words now. “I did it because I knew it would bring you back to me. And guess what? It worked. You’re here. And when this is over, you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and unwavering as she meets his gaze. “You’re right about one thing, Adrian. I won’t forget you. But not because I’m scared or because you have any hold over me. I’ll remember you as the pathetic, cowardly man who couldn’t even face his own failures. You killed those women because you couldn’t handle the fact that I got away from you. That I beat you.”

Adrian’s face is red with rage now, his fists clenched as he glares at her. He’s lost his cool completely, no longer the charming manipulator he was trying to be. He’s exposed.

Y/N stands up slowly, looking down at him with calm, cold eyes. “You wanted me back in your life? Well, congratulations, Adrian. You’ve got a one-way ticket to prison, and the only time you’ll see me again is when you’re rotting behind bars.”

She leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words like ice. “I won. You lost. And the worst part for you? You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life knowing I never belonged to you.”

Adrian’s face twists in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. Y/N doesn’t need him to. She’s already shattered his delusions.

As she turns to leave the room, she pauses in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Enjoy prison, Adrian. You’ll be surrounded by men just like you. Maybe they’ll remind you of what real powerlessness feels like.”

She walks out without looking back, leaving Adrian sitting there, fuming and defeated.

Outside, the team watches through the observation window. Derek’s eyes never leave Y/N as she steps into the hallway, her expression unreadable but victorious.

As soon as she’s out, Derek moves toward her, his voice low and full of quiet admiration. “You were incredible in there.”

Y/N gives him a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “It’s over.”

Derek steps closer, his voice softening. “You did it, Y/N. You took him down.”

She nods, but before she can respond, her mother’s voice cuts through the moment. Diane, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and regret, had heard every word of Adrian’s confession.

“Y/N…” Diane’s voice trembles, her face pale as she takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you and I’m—”

“Stop,” Y/N says, her voice sharp but not raised. She turns to face her mother, eyes hard. “I forgive you, Mom. But I’ll never forget what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Diane’s face crumples as she stares at her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to—”

Y/N cuts her off again, shaking her head. “It’s too late. You had years to believe me. Years to help me. I’m done waiting for you to care.”

Diane reaches out, but Y/N takes a step back, her face unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Mom. I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Y/N turns and walks away, the weight of years of pain finally lifted from her shoulders.

Derek watches her go, admiration and sadness flickering in his eyes. He catches up to her and without a word, pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like he never wants to let go.

“You did good babygirl,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You did real good.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, leaning into him. “It’s really over,” she whispers, and for the first time, she truly believes it.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Y/N stood in her kitchen, stirring the lavender tea she had made for herself, hoping the soothing scent would calm her nerves after the intensity of the past few days. The warmth of the mug seeped into her hands as she glanced at the clock—it was late, and for the first time since they wrapped the case, she was alone. It was a rare, precious quiet. She wore her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun as she padded over to the couch.

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, trying to let the exhaustion slip away. Just as she curled up, ready to embrace the quiet, a knock came at the door.

Her brow furrowed. Who could it be at this hour? A part of her tensed, but when she peeked through the peephole, her face softened.

Derek.

A smile immediately spread across her lips as she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. "Derek," she said, warmth filling her voice. "What are you doing here?"

He stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but the warmth in his dark eyes was what made her heart flutter. He held a small box in his hands, the edges of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I couldn’t let you be alone after everything,” he said softly. “And... I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek stepped forward, holding the box out to her. “Carrot cake. Figured you could use a little sweetness after the last few days.”

Y/N’s smile brightened, and she laughed softly, the tension of the case beginning to melt away. “You remembered it’s my favorite.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

She took the box from his hands, shaking her head in amusement. “I think I need something sweeter than carrot cake, though.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, that signature smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft but playful. “You.”

The smirk on Derek’s face softened into something more tender as he watched her, his dark eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “Is that right?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “Come on, might as well share the cake if you’re here. I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Derek chuckled as he stepped inside, glancing around her cozy apartment before his eyes landed back on her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

They moved to the living room, and Y/N placed the cake on the coffee table, her heart lighter now that Derek was here. The weight of the last few days seemed to lessen in his presence.

“So,” Derek said as they sat together on the couch, their knees brushing. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N exhaled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m... okay. Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here. But it’s been a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face him again, let alone...”

She trailed off, and Derek reached out, placing his hand gently on top of hers. “You don’t have to explain. What you did back there? Y/N, you were incredible. You stood your ground. You faced him head-on, and you came out stronger.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said quietly. “You were right there the whole time, and knowing that... it made it easier.”

Derek’s hand slid up from hers, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her face. His touch was warm, grounding. His voice lowered, filled with awe. “Y/N, I’ve always been in awe of you. Always. But after this... what you just went through? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her heart fluttered as his thumb softly stroked her cheek, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the space between them charged with something unspoken but undeniably strong.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she let herself lean into his touch. “Derek...”

Before she could say more, Derek’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in a soft, almost tentative movement, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tender, a kiss filled with emotions that had been building for so long. Her hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm as she kissed him back, letting the warmth of him pull her in.

When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Y/N smiled softly. “That was...”

“Long overdue,” Derek finished for her, his lips brushing hers again in a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you. And I’m not just saying that because of this case. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened with emotion, and she bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too wide. “You’ve always been my rock, Derek.”

“And you’ll always have me,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Derek still holding her close, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers still lightly touching his hand.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. Neither of them felt the need to speak anymore, the warmth of their closeness enough.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the case caught up to them. Their breaths evened out as they lay together, bodies intertwined on the couch, the world outside fading away as sleep overtook them.

For the first time in days, Y/N finally felt at peace, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be—in Derek’s arms, where everything just felt right.

your recent aaron au is so good OMGGG🫠🫶🏻🫶🏻

You’re literally so sweet! Thank you so much 🤍🤍 I appreciate you taking the time to read it!!!

The Tell 1x05

Episode 6

Being stuck at home with Michael wasn’t the worst thing in the world for Fallon. Would she rather be out with Noah and Stiles sitting in his police cruiser? Yes. But her dad has been apparently lacking quality time with his only daughter, and wants to “catch up.” His words, not hers. She somehow earned some freedom as Michae sent her out to go rent a movie from the video store about five minutes away from their house.

She shoots her dad a text, letting him know she arrived. Her plan was to get the Iron Man movie and just head back home. But to her surprise, when she removes her helmet and steps off her bike, Jackson is also walking into the store. Lydia sits alone in the car, adjusting her makeup in the mirror before taking her own phone out.

Before Lydia could spot her, Fallon rushes inside. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk to the strawberry blonde, it’s just that she knows she’ll get roped in to do something with the couple, and she doesn’t want to have to explain that she’s on lockdown.

The entire store is basically all window panes, which is a great advertising tactic as everyone can see their wide selection of merchandise. The tiny bell rings overhead as she walks in and her feet carry her to the superhero section on the right side of the shop.

She runs her fingers along the spines of each DVD before finding the one that she desires. She plucks it out with a grin, getting ready to go checkout. Or at least she was until she heard Jackson call out for some assistance.

“Can somebody help me find The Notebook?”

The brunette stops in her tracks. She could just continue on with her night, pretending she didn’t hear the boy. But seeing as no one else in the abandoned store is coming to his aid, she might as well do the nice thing.

She pokes her head around the corner, “Well, I’m pretty sure one of the biggest romance movies of all time isn’t gonna be in the sports section,” she says playfully, walking up to him.

Jackson turns around, surprised to see a familiar face. “Donovan,” he looks at her with wide eyes. He crosses his arms and frowns at her sarcasm, “Yeah, no shit. I think I know that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she tilts her head before gesturing for him to come with her. “Follow me. It should be over here.”

She guides him around the corner and over to where the romance section is. It has to be the biggest part of the store which only makes it more humorous that Jackson still couldn’t seem to find it. Her eyes scan over all the disks, fingers running over each one as she searches for the Ryan Gosling film. No doubt Lydia’s choice in film as Jackson would never willingly see this on his own accord.

“I’m surprised you’re here by yourself,” the blonde comments with a hidden meaning. “I didn’t think your drug dealer boyfriend would be so lenient with you being out at night.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, her head snapping towards him, “I’m sorry?” She asks for clarification.

“The high-as-a-kite white guy who came into the school asking about you and Scott,” he explains with a disgusted look on his face.

Fallon realizes he’s talking about Derek. She shakes her head with a laugh, “I can assure you, he’s not my boyfriend.” She pulls The Notebook out of its rightful place on the shelf, handing it to the blonde.

He takes the DVD from her with a small nod, “Well, he seemed pretty pissed off when he couldn’t find you. He looked desperate. So I just assumed he was your boyfriend looking for a midday quickie,” he voices his thoughts. “Since you’re way too much of a goody goody to have a dealer.”

“First of all, you’re disgusting for even thinking I would stoop as low as a midday quickie. Second of all, if I wanted a dealer, I could get one,” she states confidently. “But I choose not to ruin my body or my life, so yeah.”

“I don’t think your boyfriend has the same concerns,” Jackson tells her as the two of them start to walk towards the checkout counter.

Fallon exhales loudly, “For the last time, he’s not my boyfrie–”

The brunette’s breath catches in her throat as they round the corner and come face to face with the dead store employee. She stumbles backwards into Jackson, the boy placing his hands on her waist to steady her. The man’s throat is ripped apart, his mouth hanging open as if he tried to scream for help but never got the chance to. Jackson tries to pull Fallon away from the scene, but ends up hitting the tall ladder behind them. It tips over, knocking down one of the light panels above their heads.

They scream as it narrowly misses falling on them. Fallon splutters, “W-we have to–” Jackson shushes her as they maneuver through the aisles. “He’s dead, Jackson,” she whisper yells. “We need to call the police.”

He shakes his head, pulling her towards the door as fast as he can, “No, what we need to do is get the hell out of here!” His face is pale and scared, similar to hers.

The two of them freeze in the middle of the store as the lights go completely out. Fallon clutches his hand tightly, him doing the same. A deep growl erupts behind the two and she can feel her insides trying to become her outsides. She and Jackson both slowly turn around and are met with a pair of glowing red eyes. Fallon swallows thickly as she tries to steady her breathing and pulse rate, but fear is the only thing on her mind.

Jackson yanks her to the side, pushing her up against one of the many shelves of DVD’s. Their backs are pressed firmly against it as they try to remain as quiet as possible. Fallon’s heart is practically pounding out of her chest, making her have an instant headache. She bites her fist as the Alpha’s loud footsteps echo around the store. A loud banging is heard and some discs fall on top of the two of them causing them both to tense up. Fallon peeks her head around the corner, trying to gauge where this thing is. Unfortunately, her search is cut short when every single shelf in the line up they’re hiding in starts to fall forward like dominos.

“Crap!” She exclaims, getting up on her feet to jump out of the way. She tries to pull Jackson along with her, but she’s too late. Right as he’s about to be in the clear, the last shelf snags his leg, crushing him with its weight.

Fallon rushes back to him, kneeling down as she tries to lift the shelf off of him. She grunts loudly, using every ounce of strength she has to try and free him. The shelf lifts slightly, but not enough to help get his lower half out. “Come on,” she pleads, continuing to power lift as much as she could.

The shelf suddenly becomes much heavier. Fallon yelps as her fingers are almost crushed by the shelf sinking down onto Jackson. When she looks up, she is staring into two bright red eyes. She swears her soul leaves her body at that moment. Its breath is hot against her face. The girl wants to run, scream, but she can’t move. It simply peers at her and Jackson, analyzing their every move. She’s paralyzed by her fear. The creature glances at Jackson before fully focusing on the brunette knelt in front of him. She squeezes her eyes shut as his claws graze the side of her face, but he doesn’t scratch her. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate as she processes what could be her last few moments alive. The Alpha leans forward, sniffing the brunette which makes her dig her nails into her hands to keep from making any sudden movements.

Suddenly he pulls away. She opens her eyes again and it looks as if he’s almost smirking at her. Like he knows who she is. Her mouth falls open as the werewolf growls loudly before running away from her and Jackson. He crashes into the front window panels, making his escape. The only thing Fallon hears is Lydia’s scream before trying to pull Jackson out once more.

—-

Fallon’s eyes are cloudy and distant as she barely tunes into the EMT talking to her. He tries to wrap a blanket around her shoulders but she slowly shakes her head, putting her hands up. “I’m okay,” she mutters lowly. “I just wanna go home.” Her voice sounds broken, like she’s crying but no tears are falling from her eyes. Lydia on the other hand accepts all of the help the paramedics give her. The strawberry blonde is more disheveled than her two counterparts. Jackson has a more angry aura about him. Fallon isn’t surprised that’s his method of coping with the situation. That seems to be his go to when he doesn’t know how to handle things. Not that she can judge. All she’s doing is shutting down which is no help to anyone.

“Paul, let’s get this area locked up.”

Life fills Fallon’s eyes at the familiar voice of Noah Stilinski. She feels a wave of relief wash over her when she sees him walking towards them. Noah’s eyes soften when he sees the terrified teen, “Fall? Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks gently, pulling her into a hug.

He can feel her shaking in his arms, but she still nods her head, “I’m fine. I just really wanna go home.”

“I know, kiddo,” he whispers. “But you know the drill. They gotta take you to the hospital to make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

“Please?” She begs him. “I feel fine. I really just want to go. You can even take me,” she tries to propose.

He sighs, going to respond but is cut off by an angry Jackson stomping over to him. “Why the hell cant I just go home?” He asks irritably. He’s being asked to go to the hospital as well. “I’m fine.”

“I hear ya,” Noah says calmly. “But the EMT says you and Fallon took some pretty massive hits in there. They just wanna make sure you guys don't have a concussion.”

“What part of "I'm fine" are you having a problem grasping?” Jackson snaps, getting in Noah’s face. “Okay, I want to go home.”

“And I understand that–”

“No, you don't understand that, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay, now, I want to go home!” The blonde screams.

“Jackson,” Fallon scolds him with one glare. “He’s just doing his job. It’s a basic process. I want to go home too, but we have to let them do their thing.”

Jackson goes to argue but their attention is diverted, “Oh, whoa! Is that a dead body?”

Fallon watches as Stiles points to the dead employee, vomit threatening to escape her lips as she sees his limp arm falling out from underneath the white sheet. Sheriff Stilinski sends his son a pointed look, huffing in annoyance, “Everybody back up. Back up,” he instructs.

She looks over at Stiles who seems to be struggling on deciding whether to get back in the car or to run over to his now traumatized best friend. Fallon makes the decision easier as she slowly travels over to him. He looks over her form, his heart breaking when he sees how scared she looks. She practically falls into his arms, wrapping her own around his shoulders. Her body trembles softly as small sobs leave her mouth.

Stiles looks shocked. Fallon isn’t a big crier. Not unless she has a reason. He holds her tightly, pulling her in by her waist. “I got you,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Fall. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“It was him,” she managed to whisper. “The Alpha. He was right in front of me, Stiles,” she explains, wiping any evidence of her tears away. “He touched me, smelled me, and then he just ran away.”

He furrows his eyebrows, “What? Why would he–”

“I don’t know,” she answers quickly. “I don’t know why he did any of that. Or why he didn’t kill me and Jackson ‘cause he could have. He had every chance to. It doesn’t make sense.”

A fierce determination lights behind Stiles’ eyes, “Hey, we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll talk to Scott.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “Just don’t freak out too much, okay? I know you’re scared, but I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Stiles,” Noah calls out as he walks over to the two kids. Jackson is still complaining loudly making the sheriff sigh and probably have an internal breakdown. “Why don’t you let Fallon sit in the car with you?” He suggests. “As long as you promise that you feel fine,” he says to the girl.

She nods, “I do. I’m alright.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then just give me a couple minutes to wrap this up and then I’ll drop you off at home, alright?”

Fallon surges forward, hugging the man again, “Thank you.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

After being dropped off by Noah and Stiles, her father had gotten a long winded explanation on what happened. So when Fallon decided to forgo the movie, Michael was more than understanding. He made her a bowl of popcorn anyway, allowing her to retreat up to her room for some much needed alone time.

She lays on her bed, her laptop quietly playing episodes of Gossip Girl to keep her distracted. She lazily takes a handful of popcorn, putting it in her mouth. She closes her eyes and relishes in the different seasonings and splash of lemon she puts on it. Stiles and Scot have always made fun of that little quirk of hers, but she can’t help loving it.

She tries to focus on the silky smooth voice of Chuck Bass, but the only thing her mind can seem to do is remind her of the dead man in the video store. His mutilated face plagues her mind, no matter how hard she tries to think of something else. She feels a high level of frustration, knowing that she can’t miss school tomorrow. Most of her teachers are understanding, but if she were to miss Mr. Harris’s class, she’d be screwed. He wouldn’t take pity on her even if she was in a full body cast.

Michael tried to talk to her after the Stilinski’s left, but she wasn’t very responsive. He tried to reassure her that nothing like that would ever happen again, but she knows that’s not true. The likelihood of running into the Alpha again, especially with her connection to Scott and Derek is high.

She just wishes she had more information. Like why the Alpha was there. Why did he kill that employee specifically, but spare her and Jackson? She could still see its blood red eyes staring into her soul. The way its claws touched her face made shivers run down her spine. Its hot, stinky breath still lingers on her skin. Did he pick up on Scott’s scent? Maybe Derek’s? She did just have his vomit plastered on her skin not too long ago.

Fallon sits up, staring at the now empty bowl of popcorn in front of her. She frowns, wishing she could still eat away her feelings. The urge to walk into the kitchen and grab a pint of ice cream is strong, but her desire to waste away in her bed rules out. She thought watching Serena and Blair argue for the fortieth time would be enough to make her feel something, but she just didn’t. Either she really is traumatized or she needs sleep.

She shuts her laptop, laying down on her wide array of pillows. She chooses the second option, figuring if the other one is true that she can decide that in the morning. She rubs her tired eyes, everything becoming blurry as sleep threatens to overtake her. Her desk in the distance looks like an oddly shaped blob, different papers scattered around it that she completely forgot about. She glances out the window, the only thing in sight is the stars and towering trees. The small amount of light from the waxing crescent shining through. She feels a sense of serenity, until suddenly the light is blocked by a looming figure standing in the way.

Fallon shoots up from her spot, immediately reaching for the pair of scissors on her night stand. She slowly inches around her bed as the figure opens her window. The glass slides open easily due to her bad habit of always leaving her window unlocked for Scott and Stiles. Right as the stranger sets foot in her room, she launches her entire body, scissors ready to stab whoever it is. A small gasp leaves her mouth as a hand grabs her wrist, spinning her around and pinning her arm behind her back.

She looks behind her, “What the hell?” She furrows her eyebrows, dropping the scissors to the floor. Her back is still pressed to his chest, him holding her in place. “You’re not the Alpha,” she breathes out.

Derek lets her go, gently spinning her around. “You thought I was the Alpha?”

Fallon nods with wide eyes, “Uh, yeah,” she states obviously. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the thing touched me. He smelled me like I was a five course meal. It’s all I can really think about. So when I see a shadowy figure climbing through my window, that’s gonna be my assumption,” she breathes out, her chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline.

Fallon took the time to look the werewolf up and down. He looks exactly the same as he always does. Tight fitting t-shirt covered by one of his many leather jackets along with a pair of jeans. His hair is black and messy like usual. She never really took the time before to look at it. Maybe that’s what adds to his “stay away” personality. The dark and mysterious hair. She thinks back to the conversation she had with Stiles when Scott was on the bus. She really wouldn’t mind running her hands through it.

She shakes her head of the thoughts when she realizes she’s been just staring at him for an oddly long period of time. She crosses her arms over chest, “What are you doing here?”

Derek shrugs, “I was there with Scott,” he reveals. “I didn’t know you were in there until we saw the EMT’s pull you and Jackson out. I know you saw the body.” She swears his eyes soften for a moment before he asks, “Are you okay?” But she could’ve easily just imagined it. She nods her head silently and he tilts his own, “Can you tell me about what happened?”

She looks apprehensive at first, but ultimately decides it would be best for him to know everything. She sighs, sitting down on her bed. “I was there trying to find a movie for me and my dad,” she begins. Derek hesitantly sits down beside her on the bed, eyes staying on her form. He nods, encouraging her to continue. “Jackson and Lydia ended up being there. He asked for help trying to find The Notebook and I went to go help him. We found it and went to check out and that’s when I found the dead guy,” she explains. “After that Jackson and I ran into a ladder, almost got crushed by a lighting panel, and that’s when we saw the Alpha.”

“You said he smelled you,” Derek brings up. Fallon just nods silently at his words. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly, the crease in her eyebrows becoming deeper. “I’ve been thinking about it. I thought maybe it smelled Scott since he’s a part of his pack and all. Like he has a sensitivity to Scott’s scent or something. But then I thought he might’ve smelled your scent because you kind of threw up all over me the other day,” she nudged him teasingly. “But what freaks me out is that it looked at me like it knew who I was. He had an almost smirk on his face. Like he got off knowing I was scared. I don’t know why he attacked that guy and left me and Jackson alone. I don’t know what his original plan was. Why he didn’t bite either of us,” she shakes her head as she continues to try and figure it out with her own logic. “It didn’t make sense. I mean, maybe he didn’t know who I was, but formed some sort of plan for me on the spot, I don’t know,” Fallon drops her hand into her hands, rubbing her eyes frustratedly.

“You think he might come back for you?”

“God, I hope not,” she laughs humorlessly. “That would be unfortunate.”

“If he bit you?” Derek wonders.

“Well…” Fallon huffs, “I don’t know. If he came back for me and killed me that would kinda suck. But I guess it wouldn’t be the most unfortunate thing if he bit me.” She shrugs, looking Derek in the eye. “It’s not everyday you get the opportunity to have the strength of a superhero.”

“So you’d be okay with it? If he were to try and turn you.” He looks almost perplexed with her outlook on it.

“I wouldn’t say I’d be okay with it, but I wouldn’t be trying to get rid of it like Scott has been,” she says. “I’d probably just be a little nervous.”

“You’re already nervous,” Derek points out.

“Thanks,” she rolls her eyes at his bluntness. “Trust me, I know.”

“But it’s impressive how you’ve been handling it,” he concedes.

She smirks slightly, “Did you just compliment me?” She questions playfully.

Derek rolls his eyes, “No. I’m just giving you credit. Don’t turn it into something it’s not.”

“Well, thanks for the credit that sounded a lot like a compliment,” she flops backwards on her bed, her head hitting the soft mattress with a small smile.

“Did you ever finish the book you were reading in the woods the other day?” He asks, seeming to be genuinely curious. “You looked pretty into it.”

Fallon looks at him, her irises flashing downwards in his direction. She pats the spot next to her, telling him to lay down too. She doesn’t think he’s going to by the unsure expression, but is pleasantly surprised as he lowers himself down. Now they’re both just staring at the ceiling, but for whatever reason, it’s comfortable.

“I did,” she answers. “I finished it the day after. I’m already almost done with the next one.”

“Do you ever not read?”

She nods, “When I’m playing lacrosse. Or studying. Or doing homework,” she lists off. “But other than that, I’m usually reading.”

He moves his head to the side so he can look at her, remaining on his back. “Why do you like to read so much?”

Fallon sighs. She feels herself about to open up and be vulnerable, and she doesn’t like it. It’s not Derek’s fault, it just usually takes a minute for her to say anything personal. Derek can sense her change in mood, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want,” he says stoically. “I was just wondering.”

“No, it’s okay,” she reassures him, flipping on her side to fully face him. “It’s just something my mom and I used to do a lot when I was a kid. She would bring a small cup of coffee for her and a hot chocolate for me, and we’d just sit at our kitchen table and read while my dad was away,” her eyes turn flicker with bittersweet memories as she recalls that time in her life. “She’s the reason I like to read.”

Derek doesn’t know the story behind Fallon’s mother, but judging by the aroma of sadness filling the room and the fact he’s never seen the woman, he can assume that she’s no longer around. Fallon suddenly feels very awkward at the sad shift in the atmosphere. “Anyway…” she clears her throat, “I’m like ten pages away from finishing The Prisoner of Azkaban, so, yeah. I spend a lot of time with my nose in a book.”

“Most of my family died in a fire,” he says. Fallon stiffens at his words. She already knew that, but he’s never said anything about it. At least not to her. She doesn’t know how to handle him saying something so intimate about himself. “My mom, my siblings. Some of them were human.”

She watches as his jaw clenches in anger, “It was the hunters… wasn’t it?” She asks softly, coming to the conclusion from the previous signs she’s gathered from speaking to him.

He nods, “The Argent’s.”

Then it all clicks, “That’s why you don’t think Scott should trust Allison,” she realizes.

“She’s going to end up just like them,” he stares back at the ceiling. “He’s gonna get himself killed by staying with her.”

“Maybe,” Fallon concedes. “But, maybe not,” she finds herself scooting closer to him. “You can’t determine who a person is just by their family,” she says wisely. “If we did, then we’d all be stuck. Individuality wouldn’t be a thing.” He brings himself to glance back at her as she speaks. “I mean, do you think you’re the same as all your family?”

He hates the fact she’s right. “No,” he answers simply.

“Exactly,” she pokes his side. “Hell, if I was the same as my dad, I wouldn’t be riding my motorcycle. And I love that thing.” She chuckles at her own comparison and Derek just watches as she returns to normal for a split second. Forgetting all that happened to her just a few hours ago. Once she stops laughing, her features soften again. “I am sorry though, Derek,” she tells him quietly. “No one deserves to go through what you have.”

He shrugs, “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“You can talk to someone,” she suggests. By the expression he makes, she can automatically tell that’s never even crossed his mind. “You have talked to someone about this right?”

“No,” he replies. “I’ve never seen a reason to.”

“That explains why you’re so freaking grumpy all the time,” she says. “You’ve seriously never spoken to anyone about it? Like, not even a friend?”

“I don’t have friends.”

A beat of silence washes over them. Fallon frowns at the thought of the man next to her not having anyone to rely on. He’s had to grieve his entire family, alone, for years. She never would have gotten through her moms passing if it wasn’t for her dad, Scott, and Stiles. The two boys might have come a bit after Grace’s passing, but they still helped her through it nonetheless.

She looks at him determinedly, “Well, now you do.”

Derek stares at her as if she has three heads, “What?”

She nods happily, “You said you don’t have friends. So it’s been decided… I’ll be your friend.”

Derek shakes his head, looking away from her. “No. I don’t need friends.”

“You’re getting one anyway,” she insists. “We don’t have to like sit here and tell each other about our day and braid each other’s hair or whatever, but I just want you to know that I’m here,” she explains. “I don’t expect a nightly phone call or anything dumb like that. But at least now you have someone you know you can talk to. Or not talk to, and just sit in brooding silence with,” she grins. “I know that’s more your speed anyway.”

“Why would you want that?” He questions warily. “You already have two idiots as your friends.”

“I can have more than two friends,” Fallon justifies. “And no matter how much you piss me off with your dark and mysterious demeanor, you don’t deserve to go through life alone,” she says seriously. “So it’s settled. We’re friends.”

Derek wants to fight it. He wants to tell her no and that she should be running away from him, not towards him. But there’s something about her. She’s easy to talk to. A little annoying, yes, but not insufferable to be around. He hasn’t even noticed that about an hour has passed since he’s arrived at her home. Having a friend still doesn’t seem like a possibility for someone like him. Everyone he’s ever cared about is gone. He doesn’t want to allow himself to get close to her in order to protect her. But arguing with her seems pointless. Her mind is set.

“Okay,” he nods. “We’re friends.”

Fallon smiles widely, “Good,” she moves up to the head of her bed, dragging him along with her as she grabs all of her Harry Potter books from her nightstand. She looks up at him, “Have you read any of these?”

He glances down at the thick pieces of literature, “No,” he admits. “I was more of a Chronicles of Narnia kind of person.”

“Well, not tonight you’re not,” she places The Philosopher’s Stone in his lap.

The book feels heavy on his legs as he looks at her with amused eyes, “I’m not reading this.”

“Uh, yes, you are,” she insists. “You’re gonna read the first ten pages right now and then you can come back tomorrow and read some more with me,” she tells him. “We can have designated silent reading time. I’ll read mine while you read this one.”

He denies, “No.”

“Yes,” she scoffs.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Please…” she begs him. “Just try it. I promise you’ll like it. And if you don’t, you can force me to read any book of your choosing.”

Derek’s interest piques at the offer, “How do you know I even read?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Reader’s intuition, I guess.”

Derek shakes his head. He narrows his eyes in consideration. “Fine. I’ll tell you what… I’ll read it. The whole thing.” Fallon’s eyes light up. “But if I don’t like it, I don’t have to read the rest of the books, and you still have to read a book of my choosing.”

“Hm… interesting proposal,” she considers it for a moment before sticking her hand out. “Alright, you got yourself a deal.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon silently works on her essay for English, writing it in her best handwriting as it is the final draft. Her and Stiles are currently in Mr. Harris’ chemistry class. The man just sits at his desk, no doubt grading their last assignment. He sends some disappointed and disturbed glares to certain students when he reaches their paper. Fallon wasn’t worried about it. She never struggled in chemistry. Her hand moves effortlessly from left to right. It surprises her that she hasn’t cramped up yet with how far she’s gotten.

The seat beside her was left empty. She assumes that Jackson didn’t come to school today because of last night's events. She didn’t blame him. But earning a lecture from Mr. Harris about slacking off wasn’t something she was in the mood for. He’s never liked her, and she assumes it’s because of her choice in friends. Not that she would ever care what Harris thinks of her. Truthfully, she finds it satisfying when she proves his snide remarks about her wrong by getting high grades in his class. Watching him fume as he writes a one hundred percent on her paper is the best revenge a girl could ask for.

Fallon huffs annoyed when the teacher finally stands. She was hoping he’d remain seated for at least a couple more minutes so she could finish her final paragraph. Reluctantly, she puts her essay back in her English folder before turning her attention back to Mr. Harris.

He claps his hands as he rounds his desk to address all of his students, “Just a friendly reminder– parent-teacher conferences are tonight! Students below a C average are required to attend. I won't name you, because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment.”

Parent-teacher conferences. The best and worst night of the school year for some kids. It truly is just a judgment ceremony. An opening for teachers to completely expose the kids who don’t put in a lot of effort. Even though they say it’s only for students with a C average, pretty much every child is forced to go because of their parents. Fallon knows she’ll have to be in attendance. Part of it is because her father loves bragging about how intelligent his daughter is, the second part is because he still doesn’t trust her to abide by the enforced curfew. She’s not worried about her grades in the slightest. Her perfectionism and inability to accept failure has forced her to have straight A’s since she was old enough to be graded by the letter system.

Mr. Harris stops by the desk where Stiles is sitting, the spot next to him empty. “Has anyone seen Scott McCall?” On a side note, Fallon’s pretty mad about that. He allowed Scott and Stiles to sit together after forcibly separating all three of them, but wouldn’t let Fallon move any closer.

Stiles shakes his head at the teacher, indicating he has no idea where their best friend is. The boy then returns to his chemistry book, highlighting every other sentence in a bright yellow. Harris glances at Fallon who simply shrugs in his direction.

The door to the classroom swings open and every eye in the classroom falls on Jackson as he saunters in. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, holding onto his backpack strap as tightly as he can. He rushes to his seat next to Fallon, setting his backpack on the floor. Mr. Harris approaches the blonde gently, “Hey, Jackson– if you need to leave early for any reason, let me know.”

Fallon can’t help but scoff as she scribbles down notes in her chemistry book. Harris didn’t even acknowledge her existence until wondering where Scott was. “Everyone, start reading chapter nine,” he instructs. “Mr. Stilinski,” Stiles looks up at the mention of his name, highlighter dangling from his mouth. “Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry, not a coloring book.”

She snickers at her friend’s misfortune, but covers it cup with a cough as Stiles glares daggers at her from across the room. She blows a kiss at him before turning her attention back to her chemistry book, which has the appropriate amount of highlighting in it.

“I’m surprised you came,” Jackson comments quietly.

Fallon turns to him confused, “Why?”

“You seemed pretty shaken up,” he points out. “Just didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Ditto,” she nods in his direction. “After all that complaining about wanting to go home, I assumed you’d stay there for a couple of days.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, a certain anger behind his eyes. “I can’t miss class. Not with lacrosse and stuff.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” Fallon admits. She notices his hands are still clenched rather tightly. Her lips turn into a frown, “Are you doing okay?” She asks quietly. “You seem… tense.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Obviously I’m tense. We got attacked by some weird ass creature at a freaking video store, Fallon,” he says through gritted teeth. “We saw a dead guy. The real question is, why aren’t you more tense?”

“I don’t know…” she mumbles. “I guess I slept it off.”

“Slept it off?” He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “My ass, Donovan. You don’t just sleep something like that off.” He stares directly at her, making her feel like she has to make eye contact with him. “What? Did your doctor dad give you some medical marijuana or something to help you process?”

“Why does everything come down to drugs with you?” She narrows her eyes at him. “Did you ever think that maybe I just talked to someone about it? Like a normal person.”

“Who? McCall?” He asks, clearly digging for more information than just how Fallon coped with last nights ordeal.

“No,” she answers. “And it’s none of your business who I did talk with. All you need to know is that it helps, and maybe you should try it. With your girlfriend perhaps,” she suggests with a sarcastic tone. “Who also happened to be there and could probably use her boyfriend to comfort her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Jackson says coldly. “She didn’t even bother coming today. Go figure,” he rolls his eyes bitterly. “She wasn’t even in the damn store and still needed the day off.”

“Everyone processes things differently, Jackson,” Fallon breathes out, not interested in hearing him complain about Lydia, who has been nothing but good to him since they started dating. “She just needs time to recuperate,” she finishes writing down the important information of the chapter, closing the book and putting it in her backpack as the bell rings. “You should probably find a healthy outlet to do the same.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon chases after Stiles once the bell rings, releasing them from Mr. Harris’ classroom. The boy glances at his best friend, a stressed out expression overtaking his face. “Have you seen Scott?” He asks her. “I haven’t seen him and he’s not answering my messages.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I haven’t heard from him. I assumed he and Allison took the day off since today’s her birthday,” she reveals thoughtfully. “Lydia asked me to decorate her locker this morning before school.”

“Speaking of, why are you even here?” He questions her. “I don’t know if I’d necessarily be up for tests and homework the day after seeing a dead body.”

“Stiles, you’d be thrilled to go to school after seeing a dead body,” she points out. “In fact, we did go to school after seeing half a dead body.”

“Okay, well, you know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes. “Something crazy happened in that video store and you’re walking around like it’s just another normal morning.”

Fallon goes to respond, but Stiles’ phone ringing prevents her from doing so. “Oh thank God,” he huffs, plugging his headphones into the charging port on his phone, handing Fallon the other earbud before answering Scott’s call.

“What?” Scott asks, tired of the incessant phone calls.

“Finally!” Stiles exclaims. “Have you been getting any of my texts?”

“Yeah, like, all nine million of them…” he says, a bit annoyed.

Fallon shoots Stiles a look, “You really just can’t leave the poor guy alone.”

“We have more important matters to attend to,” Stiles insists. “Do you have any idea what's going on?” He asks Scott. “Lydia is totally MIA, Jackson looks like he's got a time bomb inserted in his face, Fallon for whatever reason is acting totally fine, another random guy's dead, and you have to do something about it!”

“Like what?”

“Something!” Stiles emphasizes.

“Okay,” Scott replies distantly, his mind occupied by other things. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Stiles tries to stop him from hanging up, but it’s too late. Fallon sighs, “You can’t expect him to know how to deal with all of this on his own, Sti,” she says. “We barely even know what to do, so how would he know?”

“He’s that things Beta,” Stiles points out. “And he went after you last night. His priority should be here trying to help us find out why it was there and who it is.”

“Look, I’m with you,” she agrees. “I wanna find out all about the Alpha’s motives, but we can’t force Scott to give up his life just to find the guy. He likes Allison, it is her birthday, just let them have the day to themselves.”

“Okay, I don’t know when you got all freakishly zen, but it’s freaking me out,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her. “Go back to old Fallon.”

“Just because I'm being more rational than you doesn’t mean I’m zen. I’ll still happily punch you in the face.”

Stiles scoffs, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that violence isn’t the answer?”

“Violence is always the answer,” she pats his back. “That’s why we play lacrosse.”

Stiles can’t help but smile. He shakes his head before turning to her with a more serious matter, “Hey, I was gonna go see Lydia after school today. Y’know, ‘cause she wasn’t here today. I just wanna make sure she’s okay after last night. Do you wanna come?”

Fallon frowns, “I would love to, but I can’t,” she says sadly. “My dad took the night off for parent-teacher conferences. He wants me home right after school so we can ‘spend time together.’ Also known as, ‘keeping me on a leash so I don’t sneak off.’”

“Man, he’s really not letting you off the front porch without him knowing, is he?”

“No,” she laughs irritatedly. “It’s driving me crazy. And after what happened last night, he’s even more on edge. I thought I was in prison before, but forget the curfew. I’m not gonna be allowed out past four at this rate.”

“Luckily, you have me,” he wraps his arm around her. “We’ll find new ways to sneak you out without him knowing.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we will,” she nods. “Just not tonight. I really don’t wanna push my luck.”

Stiles huffs disappointedly, “All right. I won’t force you. I’ll keep you updated on how she’s doing though.”

“Yeah, please do.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon has been home for the past couple hours. She and Stiles have been texting back and forth for the past couple hours, the latter still being stuck on what happened at the video store. She took the alone time to finish off her homework for the week, pick up her room, and get back to reading. She plans on moving on to The Goblet of Fire before she has to leave for parent-teacher conferences. Her attention is diverted when she feels her phone buzz next to her. Stiles’ name pops up on the caller ID and she quickly answers it. Putting it on speaker next to her while she continues reading.

“Fall,” his voice comes through the phone.

“Hey freckles,” she greets. “I thought you were going to Lydia’s?”

“I did,” he huffs, bothered by something. “I left a little bit ago.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows as she can hear the clear distress in his voice. “Is everything okay? You sound upset.”

He sighs loudly, “I-I don’t know, just– have you heard from Scott at all today? Or maybe Allison?”

“No…” Fallon trails off, her concern growing. “I haven’t heard from him since the call earlier with you. I thought you said he would take care of it. What’s going on?”

“Well–” he tries to say but is cut off by Noah walking into his room. “Hold on, Fall.”

The brunette could hear the entire conversation, chuckling as she remembers a very similar one happening at the Hale house crime scene. She’s envious of Stiles though. He gets to stay home from the conferences this evening.

“Hey, I’m back. You still there?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she nods, getting into a more comfortable position on her bed. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so anxious?”

“Better yet, I’ll show you.” There’s a moment of silence before her phone buzzes again with a text message. “Look at what I sent.”

She goes into her messaging app, opening her text chain with Stiles. She presses the attachment and her eyes widen at the video, “Is that…?” The image of the dead guy flashes through her mind as she watches the Alpha fly through the front store of the window. “Stiles, where the hell did you get this?”

“Lydia’s phone,” he replies. “She had it recording when all of that went down. She kept saying it was a mountain lion.”

“That doesn’t look anything like a mountain lion,” Fallon mumbles, rewatching the video again. “There’s no way we’d be able to explain that.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to get ahold of Scott for the last couple hours, but nothing. I don’t know what to do with this,” she can hear him running a frustrated hand over his face.

“I’m sorry Stiles,” she exhales. “I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “Not your fault he’s not answering.”

“Why don’t you just delete it?” Fallon suggests. “That way Lydia won’t have that reminder waiting for her when she opens her camera roll, and we don’t have to explain what we know when she ends up showing it to the police.”

“You think I should?”

“I think that would be the smartest move,” she admits. “Plus, if Scott’s not answering, I think we’re pretty accustomed to making the decision on our own.”

“I just feel like he should at least know about it,” Stiles says nervously.

“You left him a message right?” She asks.

“Not in so many words… I kinda just told him I’d kill him.”

Fallon snorts, “Well, then that shows the severity of the situation. We can always inform him of the full details later,” she smiles into the phone. “Just do what you think is right, Stiles. You have good judgment. You always do. I trust your gut more than anything.”

“Really?” He wonders hopefully.

“Yeah,” she confirms gently.

He nods, “Alright, thanks Fall. I’ll talk to you later, alright? Let me know how the conference goes.”

“I will. Bye Sti.”

She hangs up the phone before picking up her book and finishing the last two pages. She reaches over to her nightstand, grabbing the fourth book of the series and opening the first page. She reads for about thirty minutes until a few loud thuds are heard on her roof. She furrows her eyebrows, looking upwards. It’s silent again for a moment so she shakes her head, assuming it was nothing. At least until a bigger crash got her attention.

Up on the roof was none other than Derek Hale. The man is shirtless and out of breath as he clambers down to her window. Kate and a few other hunters had broken into his home, trying to get him to tell them who the Alpha was. If he truly knew, he wouldn’t be relying on Scott to help track him. Once they found out just how clueless he was, they tried to kill him, so he ran. At the time he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d run, not like he had many options to choose from in the first place.

He did have one option, hence why he’s here now. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he felt as if he didn’t have a choice. It was either this or fend for himself in the woods.

As he lowers himself to the window, he’s met with the concerned eyes of Fallon Donovan. Once she sees who it is, she’s quick to open up the window, allowing him entrance into her room. She’s shocked to see him shirtless, but recovers in enough time to shut the window and close her curtains. By his hurried state, she assumes that someone may be after him.

“Derek?” She asks, trying to catch her breath from the speedy ordeal. “What happened? What are you doing here?” She walks up to him, seeing a small bruise on his side slowly fading as he pants.

“Hunters…” he manages to get out. Fallon walks over to her mini fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the werewolf. She opens it, handing it to him. He accepts it gratefully, taking a large swig of it before continuing. “They showed up to my house. Wanted to know about the Alpha,” he explains. “I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Oh my God,” she says shocked. “Are you okay– Actually, don’t answer that. Obviously you’re not okay. Sorry, that was a dumb question,” she shakes her head at her own idiocy. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She turns around and walks into her closet, searching for one of the big shirts she’s taken from her dad to sleep in. She finds a faded blue Superman t-shirt and deems that good enough. She walks back out to him, the man seemingly analyzing her room more in depth. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he nods, slipping the shirt over his head. It’s a tight fit, but she noticed that most of his shirts aren’t exactly loose on his chiseled form.

“Do you need anything else?” She asks him. “More water? Food? A Xanax?” She smiles slightly.

Derek sends her a pointed look but shakes his head, “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I have some small snacks and water bottles in the fridge if you ever change your mind,” she tells him. “Also, if you need to shower or use the restroom, it’s right through that door,” she points to the one right next to her closet.

“I don’t think I’ll be here for that long.”

She turns to him, a worried expression taking over her face. “Derek, I don’t think you should go back out there anytime soon. Just stay here.”

“That’s not a good idea,” he denies. “I don’t think your dad would take too kindly to finding me in your room.”

She waves him off, “He never comes in here. Plus, we’re going to the parent-teacher conferences in like ten minutes. So you’ll have the entire house to yourself.” She walks closer to him, “I’d rather you stay here until we know it’s safe. They obviously know where you live, so it would be better for you to stay here anyway.”

“Fallon!” Michael calls out from the hallway. Derek tenses and gets ready to head for the window, but the smaller brunette grips his arm. He stares down at her hand, then back up to her. He sends a menacing glare her way, but she doesn’t even acknowledge it. She simply keeps her hand encased around his wrist. She’s cold against his warm skin. It’s almost a shock to his system with how large their temperature difference is.

“Yeah, dad?” She responds.

“We gotta go kiddo! I’ll be in the car.”

“Okay!” She says, waiting till she’s sure he’s fully down the stairs before talking to Derek again. Her eyes meet his and she still hasn’t bothered removing her hand from his arm. “Like I said, there’s water and stuff in here. If you get hungry, we should have leftover lasagna in the fridge from yesterday. If you’re not feeling that, feel free to order takeout. There’s some cash in my sock drawer on the side of my bed.”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t argue with me,” she cuts him off sharply. “You’re staying here until I get back and then we can discuss whether or not it’s safe for you to leave. Order yourself something and relax. If you wanna watch something, the password to my computer is 8-1-2-0-4. And before you ask, yes that’s the day I met Scott and Stiles.”

Derek sits there silently and lets her ramble. He quirks an eyebrow, “You done?”

“Yes,” she breathes out. “I’m done.”

She waits for a moment, the two of them only staring at each other. Derek takes a step which puts her on edge, ready to stop him from escaping. But to her surprise, he takes a seat on her bed, grabbing the book she gave him the night before. He holds it up to her, “I’ll make myself busy.”

A small smile etches onto her face, “Okay,” she nods. “I’ll be back in a few hours. And if I come back and you’re not here, I swear to God, I don’t need werewolf senses to hunt your ass down and beat you up,” she threatens.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

She rolls her eyes at his mocking tone, “Whatever. Just– stay here, okay?”

He slowly kicks off his shoes, maintaining eye contact. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

“Okay smartass,” she grumbles. “I’ll be back.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Arriving at the school, Fallon is already wishing the night was over. She crosses her fingers, hoping this all goes by quickly so she can get home before Derek decides to take off. She and her father walk side by side into the school, walking by all of her classes. They get through her first three periods without an issue. Her English teacher adores her, her creative writing teacher thinks she could have a future in literature, and her AP Algebra teacher believes she should be placed into Calculus next year rather than Pre-Calculus so she can have her math credits out of the way sooner.

Michael is proud. He grins down at his daughter, patting her back after every compliment. They all talk about how dedicated she is, how it amazes them she balances so many extracurriculars on top of having one of the highest GPAs in the school. She honestly doesn’t even know how she does it. Especially with the recent events going on in her life. The ratio of coffee intake to sleep at this point is about ten to one.

Fallon winces when she realizes the next teacher they have to go see is Mr. Harris. She glances up at her father, “I just want you to know before we go in there to take everything he says with a grain of salt,” she advises. “He’s a miserable, grouchy, angry man who takes pleasure in ruining teenagers' lives… He also hates me, Scott, and Stiles, so.”

Michael raises an amused eyebrow, “Duly noted.”

The moment they walk into the classroom, Mr. Harris stands from his spot and the semi-pleasant expression he was wearing fades slightly at the sight of the brunette girl. He covers it quickly with a fake smile as he walks directly to Michael, “Mr. Donovan, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”

Fallon rolls her eyes, something her father takes notice of. He holds back his own chuckle as he shakes the man’s hand, “Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Harris. I’ve heard absolutely wonderful things about you.”

Fallon fights the urge to stare at her father, mouth agape. Michael just smirks as he watches his daughter shift uncomfortably. “Really?” The teacher asks surprised, looking in between the father-daughter duo. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Please, take a seat.” He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk.

The two of them take their respective spots as Mr. Harris opens a personal file on the girl in front of him. He reads over it for a moment before looking up. “First off, I just want to start by saying how great of a student Fallon is. Her assignment’s are always done with the utmost precision and turned in on time, if not a few days early. She’s very dedicated to her studies as well as being a star athlete on our lacrosse team as I’m sure you know.” Michael nods along, having heard this same spiel less than fifteen minutes ago. “Not to mention, she’s very involved in the arts. She’s an active participant in the theatre program through her drama class as well as our creative writing program. She will have no issues getting into the college of her choosing with these accolades behind her.”

Fallon is slightly surprised by the amount of praise she’s getting from the man. That is until he closes the file and folds his hands together like that was just the opening act to an even bigger production. She can tell by the disgusted quiver in his lip exactly where this is going to go.

“However, I am slightly worried about her social development as she seems to surround herself with individuals who don’t quite match her potential.”

Michael feigns surprise, “Really? How so?”

“I assume you know about her friendship with Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, correct?” He asks.

“I do.”

“Well, I feel as though the two boys are holding her back,” Harris states bluntly. “They distract her. I’ve already had to separate them once this semester and they still seem to find ways to interact and disrupt my class.” There’s a hint of unprofessionalism in his voice, his own vendetta against Stiles and Scott showing. “I would just hate to see someone as bright as Fallon throw her future away on something as trivial as a high school friendship.”

If steam could be leaving her ears, it would be. Fallon is fuming, absolutely livid. She’s been friends with Scott and Stiles since moving to Beacon Hills. Their friendship is not trivial or confined to the simplicities of high school. What they have goes beyond all of that.

“Mr. Harris,” Michael leans forward, crossing his right leg over the left. “I appreciate your input on the people my daughter surrounds herself with, I do. But I assure you, Stiles and Scott are not an issue in my daughter's life. From what I’ve seen, they’ve helped her adjust and grow into the woman sitting here today, and I will not tolerate any slander against those two boys. You may not like their behavior, but you must remember that you chose to teach high school students as your career. If you did not expect to have rambunctious teenage boys in your class, then I am afraid you chose the wrong profession.” Fallon’s jaw drops as her father eloquently puts Harris in his place. “I do hope you find a better way of addressing their behavioral issues with their parents rather than implying they’re bad people.” Michael stands from his spot, “Thank you for your time… Fallon,” he nods towards the door, indicating it’s time for them to leave.

The two of them walk out, not giving Mr. Harris a chance to utter another word. Fallon waits till there far enough down the hallway before jumping up and down and smacking her father’s arm. “That was amazing!” She squeals. “Agh, I can’t wait to tell Scott and Stiles. Harris is gonna be pissed when we go back to class.”

“Language,” Michael laughs.

“I can’t help it!” She swings her arms happily. “I feel like I’m floating after that. I mean, did you see how red his face got? Priceless.”

Michael shakes his head, simply wrapping his arm around Fallon’s shoulder as they continue visiting the rest of her teachers. Michael’s and Fallon’s favorite conference had to be with Coach Finstock. They might have gotten five minutes in about Fallon’s grades before turning solely to lacrosse. They couldn’t stop snickering at the man’s enthusiasm. He might’ve let a couple of insults about Stiles slip, but it was all in good nature… they hope.

Finally, the evening was over. Michael and Fallon walk towards the exit doors, pushing them open as they get ready to head to their car. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he pats her back.

She smiles up at him, “Thanks dad.”

That’s when the Donovan’s notice Melissa McCall walking up to them. They both smile in her direction, Michael pulling the woman in for a hug as a greeting. Fallon notices the worried look on her face. She seems to be in a rush, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Hey guys!” She greets as cheerfully as possible before turning her attention to the young brunette. “Fallon, have you seen Scott at all? Mr. Harris told me that he didn’t show up to school today.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I haven’t seen him. I think he might’ve went out with Allison since today’s her birthday,” she says honestly.

Melissa frowns, “Allison? The girl he went to that party with?”

“Yeah,” Fallon nods. “I think they’re dating so he wanted to do something special for her.” Her eyes catch Victoria Argent’s bright red hair, both her and Chris gave the exact same expression as Melissa. Clearly, they haven’t heard from Allison at all either. “Those are her parents,” she points in that direction. “I can take you over there if you want.”

“That would be great,” Melissa nods. “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you handle this Fall,” Michael kisses the top of her head. “I’ll be in the car all right?”

“Okay,” she agrees before looping her arm through Melissa’s and escorting her over to the Argent’s.

“Excuse me,” Fallon begins politely. Chris and Victoria turn, their expressions softening when they see who it is. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Argent, um, this is Melissa McCall, Scott’s mom. I figured since both Allison and Scott weren’t at school today, and they’re not answering their phones, that you might have some things to talk about.”

Victoria’s face hardens once more as she looks at Melissa with distaste, “You’re his mother?”

Melissa scoffs slightly, “Funny how you say that like it’s an accusation…” she comments defensively.

The sudden shift in atmosphere makes Fallon feel awkward for being there in the first place. Chris tilts his head, “Well, I wouldn't claim it as a source of pride, since he basically kidnapped my daughter today.”

“Kidnap isn’t exactly the word I’d use–” Fallon tries to diffuse the situation.

“How do we know that skipping school wasn’t your daughter’s idea?” Melissa crosses her arms.

“My daughter–” Chris tries to talk but that’s when Fallon sees a sheepish looking Allison and Scott approaching them, both of them already knowing how much trouble they are in.

“Is right there,” Fallon finishes, nodding in the direction of the two teens.

Melissa wastes no time in storming over to her son. Victoria and Chris share an angry yet disappointed look before also approaching their daughter. Fallon simply shoves her hands into her pockets, and when she notices Scott looking at her, she makes a bomb explosion with her hands accompanied by her own sound effects. He rolls his eyes at her childish behavior and she smirks before walking over to the parking lot. She looks at her watch, seeing as it’s only eight-thirty she hopes Derek hasn’t taken off yet.

Right as her sneaker clad foot hits the black asphalt of the lot, a blood curdling scream erupts from one of the women leaving the school. Fallon’s head snaps towards the direction of the sound, her body suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings. Indistinct yelling is heard from the crowd as people push through each other trying to get to their cars. She spins on her heel, trying to discover the cause of all the commotion when another couple of girls begin screaming and running in the opposite direction of where they were standing.

Fear. That’s all Fallon could see. Everyone seems to be running for their lives from something the brunette doesn’t even know about. She jumps slightly when a small thud catches her attention. Something just hit the car next to her. Her heartbeat quickens as she scrambles to get away from the vehicle. She tries to look for her dad and their car, but can’t see anything over the panicked people.

“Fallon!” Allison screams, running over to the girl. She grips onto her arm, “Have you seen Scott?” She asks worriedly. “I-I lost him when the first girl screamed. I don’t know where he is.”

Fallon shakes her head, trying to pull Allison away from the car she was just standing next to. The sound of nails scratching against pavement causes the hairs on her neck to stand up. The only thing she can think of is the Alpha. “I don’t know where he is,” she answers. “I thought he was with Melissa.”

“No, we stayed together when everyone started running out of the school,” Allison explains, her nails digging into Fallon’s skin.

“It’s okay,” she reassures the girl. “We’ll find him.”

A small yelp leaves their mouths as one of the cars they were weaving through shakes due to something colliding with it. Fallon immediately starts dragging Allison out of the parking lot and back towards the school. They move backwards, trying to cross the main driving lane to exit the school when suddenly a flashing light blinds the two.

“Allison!”

Suddenly Allison was gone from Fallon’s side. She panics, trying to find the girl but it’s too late. The brunette’s body is launched about five feet from where she stood as a car hits her roughly. She crashes to the ground, her head hitting the gravel with a loud bang. Her vision blurs, a deafening ringing all she’s able to hear. All she can see is blobs of people running over top of her trying to escape.

She lays still on the ground, not a sound coming from her. Someone would probably think she was dead. At least until a throbbing pain shoots up her leg and into her side. She groans loudly, trying to keep the tears at bay as her hearing and vision finally come back into focus. Something is definitely wrong. Scott and Allison appear, both of them standing over her with worry filling their eyes.

Allison is quick to put pressure on certain points and judging by the pained scream she could easily identify the problem. “It’s broken,” she whispers to Scott. “Help me get her up.”

Fallon bites her tongue so hard that she draws blood as her two friends try to drag her over to the pavement. Scott mutters multiple different apologies to his best friend, guilt filling his body at the sight of Fallon in pain. He just saw the car coming and his mind immediately went to saving Allison.

They set her down gently the same time a gun goes off. They all look in the direction of the shooter, seeing Chris Argent standing tall with a determined look on his face. Everyone halts their movements after the shots rang out, walking over to see what exactly was terrorizing the crowd.

Fallon couldn’t see much as her mind was too preoccupied with the pain in her leg. But what she did catch a glimpse of, laying dead with a bullet wound, was a mountain lion. A real, actual mountain lion. Not the Alpha she thought it was.

“Michael!” Scott yells as Fallon’s father comes barreling forward, eyes blown wide.

“What the hell happened?” He asks, kneeling down to his daughter.

“A car hit her,” Allison answers. “I’m pretty sure her leg is broken.”

That’s when Melissa comes rushing over as well as a limping Noah Stilinski. Michael looks up at the sheriff, “We need an ambulance here, now.”

So much for making it back before Derek left.

Second Chance At First Line 1x02

Episode 3

     Fallon waits patiently outside, sitting on the bleachers at the lacrosse field. She was the first one ready so that gave her time to sit and think. Her best friend since the third grade… is a werewolf, and apparently so is Derek. He’s the reason Scott ended up in the woods and found out that Allison’s father is a hunter. 

Her leg bounces up and down as her mind runs at a million miles a minute. She tries to focus on getting ready for practice, but it’s almost as if her entire world has shifted off its axis. The only thing consuming her every waking thought is that she’s actually living some people’s worst nightmares. She can’t even imagine how Scott feels. Trying to live a normal teenage life, only to find out that it’s now impossible to do so. 

Her anxiety is through the roof. She left the Argent’s house after breakfast the day after she slept over, not knowing how to act around the family after what she found out. She didn’t want to make it seem weird, but her abrupt exit might’ve done enough damage for her. Allison had been texting her all weekend since then and all Fallon could do was tell her she thinks she got a stomach bug from the food at Lydia’s. While the brunette wants to become friends with the new girl, there’s a worry in the back of her mind that Allison knows about the supernatural. Fallon’s not sure if there’s a possibility that Allison might be interested in Scott just lure him into a trap. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls Fallon out of her thoughts. She looks up and sees Coach holding two of the longer lacrosse sticks. “Donovan, why don’t you take one of these today, and get your ass out on the field!” He commands, placing the stick in her hands. 

She nods obediently, “Yes, Coach.” 

Her legs carry her out to the grass and that’s when she sees Scott and Stiles running out. Stiles sends her a thumbs up, silently asking if she’s okay. The girl sends him one back, assuring that she’s fine. Once Scott makes it closer to her, she migrates towards him, worried about his mental state after the events of the weekend. 

“You alright?” She asks quietly. 

“You mean after finding out that the girl I like’s dad is trying to kill me?” He replies, sick to his stomach. “Yeah, I’m great.” 

Fallon pats his back, sympathy written all over her face, “I’m sorry, Scotty.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

Coach’s whistle echoes loudly around the field. “Let’s go! One-on-one from up top!” 

Fallon’s partner for one-on-one’s is Danny. She grins at the boy before the red whistle is being blown again. Jackson scoops up the ball for his team and everyone starts to play. They all run around the field, passing the ball to each other and shoulder-checking their opponents as they try to score a goal. Danny grunts as Fallon plows into him, forcing him out of her way as she goes after the ball. Coach follows their movements closely from the sidelines. 

Fallon runs in between Jackson and one of his teammates, intercepting the ball he just barely threw from his elongated stick. She sticks hers up in the air, catching it effortlessly. Jackson’s jaw clenches when Fallon winks in his direction before taking off to her team's goal, scoring the first point of the afternoon. 

“That’s how you do it, Fallon!” Coach praises, “That’s how you do it!” 

After a few more minutes of game play, Coach yells at Greenberg to take a lap around the field for messing up the play. He drops his stick and his helmet, running towards the track with his head hung low. As he’s verbally abusing Greenberg, he instructs the others to get in line for goal practice. Fallon lines up right behind Scott, but she can see his eyes are more focused on something in the distance rather than on the field. 

“Scott, do you hear something?” She whispers. “Like y’know… w–with the werewolf hearing?” 

He shakes his head silently, still staring off into space. At least until Coach catches his attention, “McCall, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Coach points at Jackson who is blocking for the goalie. Fallon will be blocking for the second half of boy’s at Coach’s behest. The blonde boy looks smug, almost as if he’s  only doing this to show up Scott. The brunette boy clenches his jaw, charging towards Jackson. Fallon and Stiles, who happens to be behind her, wince as Scott is launched to the ground by a harsh shove from Jackson. Coach wastes no time in marching over to him mockingly, not even giving Scott time to stand from the mossy grass. 

“Hey, McCall!” Coach crouches down and Scott grimaces from pain and embarrassment as he struggles to stand up straight. “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?” 

Fallon and Stiles watch worriedly as Scott’s anger and frustration is what’s keeping him doubled over. They glance at each other, beginning to get ready for a werewolf intervention if needed. The last thing that needs to happen is Scott wolfed out on the field. 

“Yes, Coach,” Scott replies through clenched teeth. 

Coach, still trying to goad Scott into a more competitive mindset, “I can’t hear you!” 

“Yes, Coach,” this time he sounds more than just angry. His hard glare is focused on Jackson who is watching him with a smug smile. 

Irritatedly, Coach Finnstock bends down further, moving his mouth inches from Scott’s ear, “The do it again!” 

Scott’s grip around the lacrosse stick grows impossibly tighter as he runs back in line. Fallon whimpers quietly as his eyes briefly flash gold in her direction. How can one thing be so terrifying yet captivating at the same time. 

“McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!” 

Jackson gets back to his position just a few feet in front of the goal as Scott returns to the front of the line-up for one-on-ones; though his eyes are no longer glowing gold, he still looks furiously determined. After a moment, Coach blows his whistle to have them start. 

“Let’s go!”

Scott runs at full-speed towards Jackson, much faster than he ran last time. Fallon hears a small snap as the two boys collide with one another. Scott rams his shoulder into Jackson’s collarbone, knocking him flat on his back. He clutches his shoulder in pain and Fallon assumes the snapping sound came from his body. 

The entire team, minus Stiles and Fallon, surround Jackson. The two of them look at each other, completely panic stricken as they rush towards Scott’s side. Everyone seems too distracted by their knocked down captain to notice Scott with bright golden eyes and fangs poking out of his mouth. Scott groans loudly, desperately trying to keep himself from fully turning. He clutches his head tightly. 

“Scott? Scott?” Fallon tries to get him to look at her. “Are you okay?” She gets nothing in response so her and Stiles sling his arms over their shoulders. 

Scott pants heavily, finally finding the strength to talk, “I can’t control it,” he wheezes. “Guys, it’s happening!” 

“What? Right here? Now?”

“No, Stiles, ten years in the future,” Fallon snaps sarcastically. “Yes, obviously it’s happening now. “We gotta get him out of here,” she says.

They start trekking across the field, passing the bleachers to get inside the school. The trio though is too preoccupied with Scott’s current predicament to notice Derek watching them from behind said stands. He has a focused expression as he follows their movements closely. 

All three of the teens pant loudly, carrying Scott’s weight being a lot more than they originally anticipated. They barely make it through the locker room door before setting Scott down. Stiles slides in front of the shifting boy while Fallon crouches down behind him. He’s got support in the back and in the front. 

“Sit down. Sit down,” Stiles coaxes. “You okay?” 

Their friend is practically hyperventilating, clutching the stone bench next to him. Fallon knows they can’t help him if they don’t know what’s going on with him. She moves around to crouch down at his side and places her hand on his bicep, “Scott, talk to us,” she begs.

The sixteen year old werewolf, now completely overwhelmed, finally looks up at his friends and screams at the top of his lungs in a desperate panic. His eyes returning to their golden shade. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

The shock from Scott’s roar causes both Stiles and Fallon to stumble backwards. The girl's heart is beating out of her chest as she watches Scott start stalking towards Stiles. She barely gives herself a chance to blink before she’s spear tackling Scott into the floor. They crash into a row of lockers causing a loud boom to emanate through the room. 

Stiles yelps before yanking Fallon off of Scott who has now set his sights on her. “Why the hell would you do that?!” Stiles screams as they run to hide behind a row of lockers. 

“To save your dumb ass!” She yells back, throwing her hands in the air. “Thought it was obvious!” 

Both of them screech at the same time as Scott mounts the top of the lockers. Stiles is a tad bit more high pitched than her, but he would never say that. He flails around, trying to grab her wrist as they weave through the already crowded area. Scott continues following after them, his urge to kill unrelenting as he bares his fangs at them. He jumps across the rafters, leaving the duo on the ground with no room to hide as he can see everything from above. 

Stiles protectively throws Fallon behind him as Scott goes to jump down from the high ground. She grunts as her back collides with the fire extinguisher that’s hanging on the wall. A lightbulb goes off in her head as she grabs the tool off its hook. 

“Stiles!” She grabs his attention, handing him the nozzle. He slowly realizes her plan and takes the black end gratefully. Fallon closes her eyes in fear as Scott jumps directly at them, pressing the button to release the carbon dioxide. The white substance shoots out of the nozzle, coating Scott’s body in it. Stiles and Fallon exhale shakily as their friend collapses to the floor, his breathing slowly evening out. They still take cover outside of the room, just in case he still hasn’t turned back. Stiles clutches onto Fallon’s hand, the two of them hoping to hear Scott’s normal voice.

Thankfully, they do. “Fall…? Stiles?” He calls out weakly. 

The two of them relax slightly, willing themselves not to bolt in the other direction. Stiles peeks his head around the door frame to look at Scott, Fallon standing on her tiptoes to look over Stiles’ head. He’s covered in sweat, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. They squint at him, trying to decipher if his fangs have retracted. 

Scott notices them staring, “What happened?” He asks weakly. 

Both friends are still panting heavily from the chase they just endured. They look at each other, silently deciding to walk in together. Fallon drops the fire extinguisher on the ground as she stares at Scott with an exhausted and exasperated expression. Stiles stays by her side, both of them removing their lacrosse gloves. 

“You tried to kill us,” Stiles tells him seriously. 

Scott’s face fills with immense guilt. Stiles crouches in front of him while Fallon leans on the lockers across the way. They both stare at Scott softly, not wanting him to beat himself up over this. They just want to help him control it. 

“It’s like we tried to tell you before,” Fallon begins. “It’s your anger, your pulse rising. It’s a trigger for all of– that.” She waves her hands towards his body to emphasize her point. 

Scott huffs out a quiet laugh, “But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed…” 

Fallon’s voice is firm, a lot more firm than the boys are used to. “Well, it’s gonna end up being a lot more violent if you end up slaughtering someone on the field because you don’t know how to control yourself.” She’s not trying to be blunt or rude, but she needs Scott to understand the severity of the situation and how seriously it needs to be taken.

Stiles sighs deeply, looking into Scott’s eyes. “She’s right, dude. You can’t play Saturday. You’re gonna have to get out of the game.”

Scott immediately tries to protest, “But I’m first line–”

“Not anymore.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon sits on her bed, book in her lap as she patiently awaits Stiles’ FaceTime call. Her laptop is open, stuck on the screen of her finished essay. She made sure to get the essay for English done as soon as she could so she didn’t have to worry about it later. Many people make fun of her or ask her how she gets her work done so quickly. Truth be told, it’s not that she’s smart or motivated, she’s just determined to do less work afterwards. Her philosophy is the sooner the work is done, the sooner she can be lazy. 

The moon shines brightly in the sky, casting a comforting shadow into her room. She snuggles under her blanket as she turns the page to chapter twelve of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. The candle in her room provides a certain warmth. She loves the smell of cedar wood and spice. It reminds her of the soon to come fall days that she so dearly misses when summer drags on for too long. The brunette finds herself mindlessly folding a certain black leather jacket over her torso. She doesn’t know why, but this has been her go to coat since the day Derek draped it over her shoulders. And he hasn’t creepily stared at her from a distance yet to get it back, so she plans on using it while she can.

It was already ten o’clock. She didn’t realize it had already been two hours since starting her book. She had eaten dinner around six-thirty before cleaning the dishes and setting aside a plate for her dad who still had yet to return from work. She exhales, checking for any messages from Scott or Stiles. 

Nothing. 

She didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Her eyes already started drooping slightly the moment she turned away from the invigorating pages in front of her. That’s when a knock on her door sounds. She glances up and sees a tired looking Michael standing in front of her. The bags under his eyes are more prominent than ever. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets groggily. “I’m home.” 

“Hey,” she smiles softly, putting her bookmark in its rightful place before closing it. “How was work?” 

He shrugs, a small yawn erupting from his lips. “It was alright. We had a three car pile up. No fatalities thankfully, but a piece of the windshield did puncture a major artery in one of the victims thighs. So that took up most of my night. But, other than that, it was a regular Monday afternoon,” he explains, his daughter listening tentatively. He always appreciated the fact she cared so much about his work. He didn’t have many people to talk to, so it was nice having Fallon. 

“But you saved her,” she encourages. “Like you always do.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he laughs breathily. “I unfortunately don’t have a perfect surgical record.” 

“You still try,” Fallon argues. “You’re good at what you do dad. You save people. Not many others could do what you do.” 

Michael’s heart warms, “Thanks kiddo. I appreciate that.” 

Fallon nods, noticing he must’ve literally just gotten home. He’s still in the clothes he left in this morning since they have to scrub in at the hospital. “I made taco salad for dinner,” she tells him. “I saved you a plate in the fridge if you're hungry.” 

Michael walks over to his daughter, kissing the top of her head. “You’re the best. Don’t stay up too late,” he points at her. “You still got school in the morning.” 

“I know,” she playfully rolls her eyes. “I’ll go to bed in a minute.” 

“Okay, goodnight,”  He waves. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she waves back. Right as her door shuts, the ringtone on her laptop begins to play as Stiles and Scott’s name pop up. She smiles, plugging her earbuds in before accepting the call. 

“What’s up, losers?” She greets, flipping on her stomach to get in a more comfortable position. Stiles smirks when he notices her fuzzy socks peeking out above her head. 

“Nice footwear,” he nods sarcastically. “I didn’t know Cookie Monster changed his occupation to sock model.” 

“Shut up,” Fallon snarls, but self-consciously hides her feet from view. 

Stiles laughs victoriously, shooting his fake nerf gun in the air. Scott exhales, stressed out about everything going on. He doesn’t have the patience to play games. “What’d you find out?” He questions, getting straight to the point.

Stiles sets his toy down, “Well, it’s bad. Jackson’s got a separated shoulder.” 

Fallon winces. While she hates that Jackson can’t seem to get along with her two boys, she didn’t want him to get that injured. She is still kind of friends with the blonde. 

Scott’s face is covered with immense guilt, “Because of me?” 

Stiles scoffs as if Scott’s statement isn’t true, “Because he’s a tool.” 

“But is he gonna play?”

Fallon looks at Scott’s corner of the screen, “I think it would be better for you if he didn’t,” she points out logically. “Seems like you two can’t play together for five minutes without trying to knock each other clear across the field.”

“Well, they don’t know yet,” Stiles cuts in. “Now, they’re just counting on you for Saturday.” 

Scott sighs deeply, shaking his head. He’s conflicted on what to do. He’s always dreamt of being a lacrosse star but he understands where Fallon and Stiles are coming from. He doesn’t want to risk hurting anyone. As they sit in silence, Fallon tilts her head, leaning in closer to her computer. She furrows her eyebrows, swearing that she just saw a shadow in Scott’s room. A big, burly shadow moving in the background. Stiles seems to be doing the same thing, trying to see exactly who or what is behind their friend. 

Scott notices their incessant staring, “What?” He asks them. 

Not wanting to tip off the possible intruder, Stiles begins typing in the messaging feature. A big yellow bubble pops up, It looks like– 

The message cuts off making Scott even more lost, “It looks like what?” 

Fallon watches nervously as both the boys on her screen freeze, which only means that she and Stiles are frozen on Scott’s screen. She bites her bottom lip out of nervousness, tapping a plethora of buttons to get the screen moving again. Once it does, the second half of Stiles’ message sends. 

Someone’s behind you. 

As soon as the text pops up, Scott is yanked from his chair by the looming figure behind him. The young boy is shoved against his bedroom wall angrily making Stiles and Fallon call out for their friend. The laptop falls to the floor with a small crash. They can’t hear anything that’s being said. Only incoherent whispers make their way through the speakers. Fallon turns her volume up all the way, trying to hear any hint on who the furious person could be. 

After a few moments, Scott returns, picking up his laptop. Fallon and Stiles examine his face, trying to see if he’s injured in any sort of way. Scott slumps down in his chair with a shaky breath, “It was Derek,” he reveals, still reeling from the experience. 

Fallon’s eyes widen, “What’d he say?” She asks curiously. “What happened?” 

He runs a frustrated hand over his face, “I can’t play in the game on Saturday.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon puts in her locker combination, opening the metal door with ease. She places her math notebook in her locker, having just finished getting out of the class. She also slides the homework her teacher assigned her in there, not seeing a point in dragging it around with her since she finished it in class. Sometimes she wishes her teachers would provide more challenging material. She and Lydia have to be already two weeks ahead in that class. Not that Lydia told her that. It’s just something Fallon picked up on. Lydia’s extremely smart. It’s almost intimidating. 

Fallon yelps as Stiles smoothly slides his hand into hers before dragging her down a few feet to grab Scott. “What the hell are you doing?” She asks him as he laces their fingers together.

Stiles ignores her before snagging Scott and pushing his two friends against the wall by the stairs. “What?” Scott questions him calmly, despite all of the manhandling. Stiles points upwards where Noah Stilinski and a couple of his deputies are talking to some of the school administrators. 

“Tell me what they’re saying,” he gestures. 

Scott rolls his eyes but nonetheless peeks around the corner. Fallon pushes Stiles away from her, “Why did I have to be involved?” 

“Because I involve you in everything,” he answers obviously. 

“Shhh!” Scott snaps, not able to hear everything over their bickering. 

Fallon pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. She shoots Stiles a nasty glare to which he responds by jabbing her side with his long pointer finger. The two almost start going at it again, but thankfully Scott turns around with a grim expression which stops them. “Curfew because of the body,” he reveals. 

Stiles scoffs in exasperation and smacks Fallon on the arm to emphasize his point. And to also get her back for their altercation a few moments earlier, but that’s not relevant. The girl retaliates quickly, socking his shoulder roughly, causing him to grunt and clutch the sore spot. 

He rolls his eyes when all she does is smile obnoxiously. He shakes his head, “Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants.” 

“The jerk-off?” Fallon says unamused. “You mean Derek?” 

Scott speaks up, being the voice of reason for once, “Well, you can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek…”

“I can do something,” Stiles counters with a newfound purpose. 

Like what?” Carver asks, fixing her gaze on the boy with a buzz cut. 

“Like find the other half of the body,” he shrugs before walking in the other direction. 

Fallon and Scott are left stunned by his conviction. She blinks, “Are you kidding?” She calls after the boy. He doesn’t look back and she huffs in frustration, turning back to look at Scott. Unfortunately, his attention is placed further down the hall where Lydia is introducing Allison to Marshall Cole, one of the guys on the lacrosse team. 

Scott’s face contorts with jealousy and Fallon loops her arm through his. She pokes his chest, “Keep your head up,” she encourages. “If you apologized and made it up to her, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She begins walking him over to the dark-haired girl, “Come on, glaring daggers at the guys she’s talking to won’t solve anything.” 

Allison notices them coming and quickly wraps up the conversation she’s having with Marshall. She grins widely at the sight of Fallon and Scott. “Hey,” she immediately hugs the brunette girl. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to come over again this weekend after the game to hang out?” She asks. “My dad felt bad for not being able to formally introduce himself so he was wondering if you wanted to come play some board games with us. We’re having tacos,” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

Fallon smiles back, but feels Scott tense at the sound of Allison’s father. She reassures him by rubbing his bicep in a friendly way. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“Great!” Allison says excitedly. “We can talk about the rest of the details later.” 

“Fall!” Lydia calls out, summoning her with her freshly painted fingers. “Come on.” 

“I’ll be right there!” She hugs Scott quickly and then moves to kiss Allison on the cheek before chasing after the redhead. 

As soon as Fallon is by her side, Lydia dismisses Marshall like he never even existed in her world. The brunette shakes her head with a chuckle, “You’re really only doing this to get under Scott’s skin?” 

“I’ll stop once he agrees to play on Saturday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Rather simple terms in my opinion, especially since he almost killed my boyfriend.” She applies a new layer of lip gloss before linking her pinky with Fallon’s, “You’re still playing, right?” 

“Yes,” Fallon confirms. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Good,” Lydia hums approvingly. “Then all isn’t completely lost. Just let your little friend know that if he doesn’t play, he doesn’t get the prize,” she threatens, referring to Allison who just stormed away from Scott with an upset look on her face. 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     After school, Stiles rapidly barges into the McCall household, forgoing knocking on the door. Fallon shakes her head as she walks at a normal pace across the house after closing the front door behind her. Melissa doesn’t need her neighbors peeking into her home simply because Stiles didn’t think about shutting the door behind him. 

She stifles a laugh as Stiles manages to trip up the stairs without losing his momentum. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t knocked out any teeth yet. He flings Scott’s room door open and barrels in just as Fallon finishes her journey up the stairs. 

They both walk in to see Scott restringing the net on his lacrosse stick after it appears to be almost ripped in half by something. Stiles breathlessly and manically begins asking Scott question after question. 

“What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” He spits out like rapid fire. 

Scott, who has been sitting calmly, looks up at Stiles curiously, leading Fallon to answer his un-asked question. “Yes, he’s taken a lot of adderall. I couldn’t stop him. By the time he came to pick me up, he was already vibrating in the driver's seat.”

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” Scott tells them. 

Stiles gasps excitedly, “Are you kidding? What?” 

Fallon jumps on Scott’s bed, starfishing across the whole mattress as Stiles continues to harass Scott for information. “There's something buried out there. I could smell blood.” 

The brunette girl sits up on her elbows. She stares at him in shock, “Seriously?” She asks with a slack jaw the same time Stiles shouts, “That’s awesome!” 

Fallon slowly turns towards him, shaking her head at his idiocy. Stiles feels slightly self-conscious at her judgemental expression and reconsiders his sentence. “… I mean, that’s terrible. Whose blood?” 

Scott stands from his spot, “I don’t know. But, when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then, you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing, because there's no way I'm not playing that game.” 

Scott tosses his lacrosse stick on the bed next to Fallon. The girl frowns, “Hold on, how do we even know if Derek did it?” She questions as she follows them down the stairs. They clearly plan on going somewhere and Fallon is only along for the ride. “We can’t just assume he’s the murderer just because you’re mad he told you not to play. Which is some good advice by the way,” she adds, hopping in the back seat of the Jeep while the boys take the front seats. 

Both Stiles and Scott turn comically slow to look back at her. They have identical judgemental looks in their eyes. It makes Fallon shrink in her seat. Stiles gesticulates wildly, “Read the room.” He scoffs. “God. I mean, he smelled blood, Fallon. What else could that mean?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “He’s half wolf, isn’t he? Maybe it’s the rabbit he ate for dinner.” 

Neither of the boys say anything, deciding not to encourage her terrible humor. Stiles speeds off to the hospital, informing Fallon of what they’re doing on the way. Apparently Scott’s decided to smell the dead corpse of the girl they found to see if it matches the scent he found on Derek’s property. 

Fallon crosses her fingers, hoping that her father isn’t anywhere near the morgue. She doesn’t need him questioning why she and Stiles are just randomly waiting in the hospital. She could say she’s there to see Jackson, but Stiles hates him and Michael knows that. So he wouldn’t believe that for a second. 

They just walked through the two sliding doors, the two boys looking for the correct direction to walk in. Fallon huffs, grabbing both of their arms. “This way,” she grumbles, guiding them past the signs that lead straight to the morgue. After working here in her spare time, Fallon’s become rather accustomed to walking the confusing halls, which Scott and Stiles are now extremely grateful for. 

“Here,” Fallon stops directly in front of the door that leads to the expired bodies. “Be quick. The medical examiner is on lunch so I’d say you’ve got like fifteen minutes.” 

“Okay,” Scott nods. He takes one last look around, making sure no one’s watching them before slowly backing into the door towards the morgue. Fallon and Stiles are left behind as his look-outs. 

“Good luck, I guess…” Stiles trails off, slightly offended Scott didn’t even offer for them to accompany him. 

The two of them walk back to the lobby, not wanting to make their presence obvious. Fallon checks around the corner to make sure Melissa or Michael isn’t there. She sighs, relieved at their lack of presence. Once they make it to the receptionist desk, Fallon goes to take a seat but is stunned when Stiles slaps a hand to her chest, stopping her from going anywhere. 

It’s like the breath has literally been stolen from his lungs. She looks at him as if she wants to kill him for slapping her, but he doesn’t seem to notice her murderous desires. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water causing Fallon to look in the direction he is. Suddenly his little outburst makes sense. Lydia is sitting less than five feet away from them, most likely waiting to see her boyfriend. With how nervous and excited Stiles is, Fallon’s surprised he doesn’t combust on the spot. He leans all of his body weight on Fallon before groaning.

“Oh my God…” He tries to surreptitiously look at the strawberry blonde, licking his bottom lip. He glances at Fallon, “Should– Do you think I should go talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Fallon replies bluntly, trying to pull Stiles to the other side of the room. 

He looks at her, baffled by the response, “Wha– Why not?” He scoffs. “You’re her friend, wouldn’t it be normal for us to go talk to her?”

“You said ‘should you go talk to her’,” the brunette recalls. “Not should we. And even then, I still wouldn’t recommend it.” 

“It’s not like I’m gonna sit there and cut off a lick of her hair,” he defends himself. “I just wanna have a light conversation y’know? Like the weather.” 

“You’re gonna regret it,” she says in a sing-song voice. “And the moment she rejects you, you’re gonna come crawling back to me and I’m gonna have to sit here and listen to you complain for the next two days.” 

“You love it when I complain,” he teases. 

“Correction, I love you so I put up with your complaining.” 

“Then if you love me, you won’t mind me doing this–” Stiles removes his hand from Fallon’s grasp before smoothly sliding into the seat beside Lydia. His best friend groans, tugging the hood to her jacket over her face and taking shelter in a chair a few down from Stiles. She couldn’t completely abandon him. He’d die on his own. So she keeps her face hidden beneath the cotton polyblend and her knees up to her chest. 

“Hey, Lydia... You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology,” Stiles begins awkwardly.

“Oh dear God,” Fallon mumbles, face turning bright red from second hand embarrassment.

Lydia makes a confused face, but doesn’t say anything which encourages him to keep talking. “Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection.” Lydia makes a face as though this surprises her, which gives Stiles the motivation he needs to continue. “Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better…”

All of the sudden, it becomes obvious that Lydia has been on a phone call using a Bluetooth headset this entire time and hasn't been listening– her facial expressions were in response to the phone conversation. Fallon stares at Stiles, wanting to go over to him and pull him away from the situation. She might complain about his complaining, but he’s right. If he needed her to, she’d sit there for hours and listen to him drone on about his heartbreak. That’s just what they do.

“Hold on, gimme a second,” Lydia says to the individual she’s on the phone with. She puts the person on hold before turning her attention to Stiles. “Yeah, I didn’t get anything you just said. Is it worth repeating?” 

Stiles, visibly embarrassed and feeling awkward, tries to get out of this situation by chuckling nervously and going to sit down directly next to Fallon. “No. Sorry, I’ll just sit…” He collapses into the uncomfortable cushion, a defeated look on his face.

Fallon slowly puts her knees down and Stiles huffs, “Alright, you can say it. You told me so and I should’ve listened to you,” he says rather snappy. 

Instead of saying anything, Fallon simply lays her head on his shoulder, looping her arm under his to connect their hands. The left side of Stiles’ body warms at the feeling and he stares at her, a bit surprised. She squeezes his bicep, “I’m sorry, Sti.” 

He tries to act unbothered by waving it off, but she can see the weight it has on him. He snuggles closer to her, laying his head on top of hers. This is as much solace as he’ll be able to get. “It’s okay. Thanks for not rubbing it in.” 

“I might be an ass, but I’m not a complete jerk,” Fallon half smiles. “I am proud that you lasted more than two minutes though. Even though she wasn’t paying attention to anything you said.” 

“You win some you lose some,” he shrugs with a sigh. “And I’ve lost all of them.” 

Scott then finally makes his way around the corner, having escaped the morgue without anyone detecting him. He notices Stiles and Fallon having a quiet conversation and raises an eyebrow at the fact they’re not bickering. He was sure one of them would be in a headlock by the time he got back out. He almost doesn’t want to disturb the scene in front of him, but they don’t exactly have unlimited time. 

He quickly walks over to them, causing the duo to stand up, redirecting their attention to him. “The scent was the same,” he tells them, not even trying to sugar-coat it.

Fallon looks down. There’s no way Derek is a killer. A creep, sure. But he doesn’t seem like a murderer. She glances at Scott, “You’re sure?” 

He nods, “Yes.” 

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Which means we have proof that he killed the girl.” 

“Okay, but do we really think it’s a good idea to just blindly accuse the guy? I mean, Scotty, what if your sniffer is off or something? We don’t exactly know how this whole werewolf scent thing works,” Fallon says. 

“I know what I smelled,” Scott assures her. “It’s not just similar, it’s the exact same.” 

Stiles begins walking towards the exit, “We have the evidence we need to put him away. I say we use it.” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows, “How?” 

Stiles sighs and stops, turning to face his two friends. He sends them a serious expression to make sure what they’re about to do is for the right reasons. “Tell me something first–” he focuses on Scott. “Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?” 

Though it's clear by the look on Scott's face that both of the offered options are true, he goes with the first one to appease Stiles and Fallon who are staring at him expectantly. “There are bite marks on the legs, guys– bite marks.” 

The two of them aren’t fully convinced, but the thought of that poor girl getting ripped apart overpowers their suspicions of Scott’s true priorities. “Okay,” Stiles nods. “Then we’re gonna need a shovel… Or three.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Night has officially fallen over Beacon Hills, causing an eerie feeling to creep up Fallon’s spine as they wait for Derek to leave the burnt up Hale house. She nervously bites her nails while simultaneously tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie. Stiles and Scott are quietly conversing up front, careful not to make too much noise just in case Derek can pick up on their presence. 

After a few more moments, Derek, who is in a tight white t-shirt and separate black leather jacket from the one he gave Fallon. He opens the door of his slick black Camaro and jumps in, starting the engine before driving off the property. She doesn’t know if this classifies as stalking, but watching him from a distance in the dark, waiting for him to leave his house seems pretty criminal to her. 

As soon as Derek is far enough away, Stiles immediately pulls his Jeep closer to the house. He parks with a little too much excitement to be looking for a dead body. Scott hops out of his side before opening the door for Fallon, helping her out of the car. She shoots him a tight-lipped smile, grabbing her own shovel and flashlight. 

They meet Stiles at the front of the Jeep before venturing off to the side of the house where the recently overturned patch of earth is located. Fallon waves her flashlight around the area, trying to make sure no other creatures of the night have the opportunity to pounce on them. 

Scott sticks his nose in the air, “Wait, something’s different.” 

“Different how?” Stiles asks, voice uneasy. 

“I don’t know…” Scott trails off unsurely. 

The three of them finally reach the supposed gravesite and Fallon aims her shovel towards the ground. “Let’s just get this over with,” she says, trying to hold back the bile threatening to rise up her throat. “Before I decide to bury one of you instead.”

She jams the head of her shovel into the ground, stomping the spade-end with her foot to push it in further before scooping up some dirt and throwing it aside. The boys follow her lead, both sharing a scared look at her empty threat. They know she wouldn’t do it, but it still doesn’t make her any less scary. 

The three of them work in silence for several minutes, the only sound being heard is their heavy breathing and the different birds singing in the distance. Fallon wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead, wishing that she was in the comfort of her own bed by now. Getting up for school is going to be a challenge tomorrow. 

“This is taking way too long,” Scott speaks up nervously, pausing his digging to voice his concerns. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, not deterring from his quick pace, “Just keep going.” 

Fallon stops as well, understanding Scott’s worries. “He’s right. What if Derek comes back and we’re sitting here digging a six foot grave in his backyard? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of intimidating.” 

“Okay, first of all, Derek’s the one who already dug the six foot grave when he put the body down here. We’re just digging it back up. Second of all, since when are you intimidated by anyone?” Stiles scoffs, chucking more dirt to the side.

“Since he’s a six foot tall werewolf who could probably crush my windpipe with his index finger,” she quips back without missing a beat. 

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly making Scott and Fallon look at him exasperatedly. Stiles groans, “Look, if he comes back, we’ll just get the hell out of here,” he answers as if it’s just that simple.

“What if he catches us?” Scott continues to question him as they resume digging. 

“I have a plan for that.” 

Fallon raises her brows, “Which is what exactly?” 

Stiles stops his movements, leading his friends to do the exact same. He stares at them both with a straight face, “You run one way, Fallon runs over there, and I run that way. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.” He shrugs once again like it’s no big deal and gets back to the task at hand. Fallon grumbles lowly, threatening to hit him on the back of the head with her shovel if it comes to it. 

“I hate that plan,” Scott huffs. 

Scott dumps another scoop of dirt to the side and is about to dig in again when Fallon's shovel hits something solid, causing Stiles to raise his left hand and hold it out in front of Scott to keep him from moving. “Oh, stop, stop, stop.” He flails around, trying to prevent any more movement. 

Fallon’s throat drops into her stomach. Her heart has to be beating at a million miles per second. This could be a literal dead body. When they all look down, they see several twine rope strings poking out of the earth, and the three of them kneel down so they can brush the dirt away with their bare hands. They eventually uncover what looks like a bundle of rough fabric, like burlap, which has been tied closed with the twine rope. Stiles starts to try to untie the bindings, while Scott and Fallon sit still because they are still on edge with fear that Derek is going to come back and catch them. 

Impatiently, Scott tries to urge Stiles on, “Hurry!” He commands. 

“I’m trying,” Stiles responds, irritated by Scott’s nerves. “Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine-hundred knots?” He curses Derek’s existence through the sardonic question. 

“I’ll do it,” Fallon snaps, gripping the rope with her own hands. Scott also reaches down to help. Stiles is on the far right end, Scott on the left, while Fallon works in the middle. After a long moment, they manage to get it all unknotted, and they open the bundle to find what looks like a severed head of a black wolf. This scares the teens so badly that they all scream loudly and leap out of the grave, Stiles and Scott land on their butts while Fallon lands on her back. They get up as fast as they can, trying to scurry away from the half of the wolf corpse. In the foreground, a flowering plant with purple petals is sprouting out of the ground. Fallon’s eyes are drawn to the gorgeous flower. Its color glowing in the pale moonlight. She fights the urge to touch it as Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“What the hell is that?” He exclaims loudly. 

“It’s a wolf,” Scott answers.

“Yeah, I think we can see that,” Fallon says sarcastically. She looks over at Scott, “You told us you could smell blood. Human blood. And that it matched the girl at the morgue. This,” she points to the dead wolf, “doesn’t look like it matches her, let alone any human for that matter.” 

Scott shrugs before throwing his hands up, not knowing what else to say. “I told you guys something was different.”

Stiles, completely dumbfounded, throws his hands up incredulously. “This doesn’t make sense.” 

“Okay, we really gotta get out of here,” Fallon says urgently. She can’t explain it, but she can’t help feeling that Derek is going to return any minute. 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Okay, help me cover this up.” 

Stiles moves to start pushing the dirt back into the grave with his hands, Scott and Fallon following suit. The brunette girl cringes when looking at the dead wolf body below her. The poor thing. She’s just curious as to why Derek buried it in the first place. 

Stiles’ movements suddenly stop causing Fallon to look at him weirdly. She follows his line of vision back to the purple plant she was looking at a few moments prior. “What’s wrong?” She asks him. “Is there something up with the flower?” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Why would there be something wrong with a flower?” 

“I think it’s wolfsbane,” Stiles reveals cautiously. “So it’s not necessarily what’s wrong with it, but what could be wrong with what it does.” 

Their werewolf friend frowns, “What does that even mean?”

Fallon picks up on what Stiles is putting down. She remembers reading about wolfsbane in the book she did her research in at Stiles’ house. Freckles scoffs at Scott’s blatant ignorance to his situation, “Uh, haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” 

Scott shakes his head, “No.”

“Lon Chaney, Junior? Claude Rains?” He spits out the actors names, trying to jog any sort of memory out of Scott. 

Scott denies ever seeing the movies once more, but more impatiently this time. Stiles grows even more exasperated as Fallon watches with amusement. “The original, classic Werewolf movie?” 

Growing tired of the incessant questioning, Scott sighs loudly. Not wanting anyone to start yelling, Fallon puts her hand on Stiles’ arm, “I think it’s safe to say he hasn’t seen it,” she tells him. 

Stiles makes an almost disgusted face when looking at Scott. The boy across from him loses his patience, “What?!”

Stiles scoffs, completely appalled by Scott’s lack of knowledge in classic films. “You are so unprepared for this.” He pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the flower. “I try to invite you to movie nights with Fallon and I, but no, you never come. Which is why we know what’s going on and you don’t.” He takes a hold of the purple flower, pulling the entire thing up by its roots. They all gasp when seeing that the base of the plant has more of the twine rope tied around it, which is also buried underground. Fallon and Scott watch as he gently continues pulling the twine out of the ground in a spiral. She honestly doesn’t believe it’s going to end with how many circles he’s made and how much of the rope is spilling out of his hands. 

There are randomly placed wolfsbane petals attached at various points along the length of it, only to find it is connected to the bundle of burlap around the wolf's head. Scott and Fallon look at Stiles with a skeptical expression, confused as to why they're wasting their time with this, when suddenly, they look down and are startled back onto their feet by what he finds in the grave.

Fallon covers her mouth to prevent the shriek that threatens to escape her lips. She immediately clutches onto Scott, her lip quivering as she glances over to Stiles who still has no idea. “Sti…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Stiles turns around, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor. He sees her and Scott staring into the grave with nothing but shock and horror written on their faces. He walks over to where they are so he can see from their vantage point. When he follows their line of sight, a loud yelp leaves his mouth as he jumps backwards. He clings onto Scott and Fallon, trying to steady himself. 

“Oh!” 

Where there once was a half dead wolf, now lays the top part of a human female body. The same body they went searching for just mere nights ago. She stared up into the sky, lips parted as if she’s silently screaming for help. Fallon feels the need to do the same as the woman’s lifeless eyes bore holes into her soul. 

“Leave. Now. Please?” Fallon taps Scott’s arm repeatedly, unable to form full sentences. He nods his head and the three of them run over to the Jeep, getting as far away from the scene as possible.

She couldn’t believe it. There’s no way Derek Hale could be a murderer. Could he?

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The following morning, Stiles was quick to barge into Fallon’s room, not bothering to knock on her house or room door. Her father must’ve already been at work or Stiles would not have been able to come in so easily. Michael would’ve already tried to feed him breakfast and ask him his plans for the day before he could even reach the stairs that led to Fallon’s room. 

She groans loudly as he jumps on top of her, repeatedly telling her to get up and get dressed. Reluctantly, she throws her warm covers off of her body, but not before smacking Stiles upside the head, eliciting a string of complaints from the boy. She smiles cockily before moving to get ready for whatever adventure he’s dragging her out to. 

“Scott’s already in the car, so hurry up.” 

And that she did. She threw on a navy blue turtleneck and black jeans, tucking her shirt in. She puts her hair up into a quick ponytail and brushes her teeth. She doesn’t bother grabbing food or anything else, figuring she could force the boys to treat her to breakfast after breaking into her house and forcing her to leave. 

It's not long before Stiles pulls up to the Hale house property which is now surrounded with Sheriff's deputies and many other on duty cops. Fallon scoffs, “Okay, you did not tell me we were coming back here.” 

“You didn’t ask,” Stiles shrugs. “Now come on,” he only grabs Fallon’s arm, forcing Scott to stay by the jeep to be the lookout. No doubt some form of payback after the morgue incident. 

He guides them to the side of the house, hiding them from plain sight. She smacks his arm, “You owe me pancakes after this,” she growls. “At this rate, we’re gonna be the ones in the back of that cop car, not Derek.” 

Right as she says this, Derek gets marched out of the house in handcuffs by one of the Beacon County deputies. Derek looks over at Scott with a scowl that causes the young boy to look down at the ground with an expression of mixed guilt and shame as Derek is pushed into the back of a deputy's cruiser. 

“You have no idea how true that statement actually is,” Stiles retorts before once again dragging her across the front yard. Her eyes widen when she realizes that they’re approaching the exact cruiser Derek was just put in. 

She shakes her head, trying to rip her wrist from his grip, “Sti– Stiles, no! Let me go! Sto– Stiles!” 

She struggles but ultimately gives up as he slides into the front seat, forcing her to guard the window so no one could see him talking to Derek. The window is slightly cracked so she puts her face as close as possible to mutter, “I am going to murder you the second you step out of this car.” 

The boy swallows thickly at the deadly look in her eyes. Derek’s own gaze flickers between the two, an ungodly annoyance filling his system at the sight of Stiles. But there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes when he hears Fallon’s words. 

“She’s telling the truth,” Derek reveals, causing Stiles to jump. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, shuffling away from the door. Fallon sends him one last withering glare before turning around and doing what he wanted in the first place. 

“I really need to stop enabling his behavior,” she grumbles. 

Stiles turns around so he can face Derek fully. He places his face close to the cage that separates the front seat from the back. Fallon can hear how nervous he is just by his rambling. Her threat to his life probably didn’t make this confrontation any easier. 

“Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you.” Derek's head is tilted down, but his eyes move up to look at Stiles through his eyelashes with a scowl that immediately terrifies Stiles. “…Okay, maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something.” He shifts nervously in his seat making Fallon tap impatiently on the glass, signaling for him to start wrapping things up as the cops are starting to head to their cars. “The girl you killed? She was a werewolf.” 

No response. Derek’s scowl remains in place, his glare only becoming more heated the longer Stiles continues. “She was a different kind, wasn't she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?”

Derek finally decides to speak, his tone is understandably irritated given the current situation. Fallon would smack Stiles if she could reach him. “Why are you so worried about me, when it's your guys’ friend who’s the problem?” There’s a small pause and Fallon hears a bit of movement which she assumes is coming from Derek. “When he shifts on the field, what do you think they’re gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on?” 

“I can’t stop him from playing, but you can…” Fallon isn’t able to hear the rest of Derek’s sentence as Sheriff Stilinski approaches her with a knowing yet disappointed smile.

“Fallon,” he greets fondly.

“Sheriff,” she replies with her own nervous smile. Her tone is sickly sweet, trying to deter any suspicions from Stiles who is only hidden by the fact she’s leaning on the window. “Uhm, how’s your shift been? Long I’m assuming, y’know… ‘cause all the murder and stuff.” She was unsure of how to proceed, deducing by the look on his face that he knows Stiles is directly behind her.

He sighs before looking between Scott and his own son, “You know they’re just dragging you down right?” He tells her with a serious expression. “You’ve got so much potential. Don’t let those two idiots ruin it,” he practically begs her. 

Fallon exhales before stepping out of his way, “I think we’re already past that point,” she replies glumly watching as the man yanks his son out of the cruiser. 

Noah drags Stiles off to the side as far away from Derek as possible, leaving Fallon by herself next to the soon-to-be person of interest. She goes to walk away, but Derek’s voice stops her. “You need to help your friend.” She looks back at him and then to Stiles. Derek rolls his eyes, “Not that one. Scott,” he clarifies. She nods in understanding, moving closer to the window. She crouches down to eye level, their faces a bit too close, but it’s for discretion. “Out of the three of you, you seem to be the one with the brain. So do the smart thing and find a way to help him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Fallon says honestly. “He doesn’t exactly listen to me. I’m not a werewolf expert. I don’t really know how to help.” 

“Just keep him from playing on Saturday,” he commands her. 

She nods understandingly, “I can try to convince Coach,” she says. “But I can’t promise he’ll go for it.” 

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Derek shrugs. “If you don’t want to see someone dead on that field, keep him away from the game.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees. A moment of silence passes between them. Derek just stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to do something. She fidgets with her fingers before voicing her thoughts, “And for the record, I don’t actually think you killed anyone,” she admits meekly. 

Derek’s face contorts into surprise for a fleeting second. He covers it up by just raising his eyebrows, “And how can you be so sure?” He asks, trying to keep his intimidating facade up. 

“I just have a feeling about you,” Fallon says honestly. “You don’t really strike me as the murderer type,” she smiles slightly. “Despite the big brooding man thing you have going on.” 

“You’d be surprised to find out what people are capable of.” 

“Well, if you’d like to inform me more on people,” she emphasizes the last word to show that she’s referring to just him. “My bedroom window is on the left side of my house, second story. Y’know since apparently you have a thing for sneaking into people’s rooms,” she teases, bringing up what he did at Scott’s. 

Derek has no words. His frown is still plastered on his face as he stares at the girl who he can only describe as an enigma. It’s baffling how she can go from timid and shy to confident and bold within seconds. She doesn’t wait for him to respond, walking over to where both of the Stilinski men are. 

“So, you lied to me,” Sheriff crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at his son. 

Fallon freezes in her spot, suddenly feeling very awkward. Stiles is quick to pull her next to him, needing a physical representation of someone who is on his side. Which she is, unless Noah gives her his disappointed dad look. Then she’ll abandon her best friend in a heartbeat. 

Stiles awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “Well, that depends on how you define lying…”

Sheriff Stilinski is quickly running out of patience, “Well, I define it as ‘not telling the truth.’ How do you define it?” He says sassily.

“Um… ‘reclining your body in a… horizontal… position?” The way he phrases it makes his statement sound more like a question. But Fallon has to admit, he’s not wrong. She covers her mouth politely to cover the small giggles leaving her lips. 

Sheriff just waves his hand in the air, completely over his son’s antics. “Get the hell out of here.” 

Eager to get out of the tense situation, Stiles grips Fallon’s hand before darting back over to the jeep, “Absolutely.” 

“Bye Sheriff!” Fallon waves. 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I really don’t understand why I’m always in the back seat,” Fallon complains as Stiles speeds out of the woods. “Why can’t Scott and I switch every once and a while?” 

“Because, you were the newbie in this friendship, remember? The OG’s get the front. You’re like Scott and I’s adopted child that we picked up from the side of the road,” Stiles explains. “Abandoned and in desperate need of attention.” 

“I’ve been friends with you both for seven years,” she deapans. “And if anyone is desperate for attention Stiles, it’s you.” 

The muscle in Stiles’ jaw ticks before aggressively pointing back at her without tearing his eyes from the road. “And you’re mean. Did I mention that? You’re mean. That’s why you sit in the back. So I’m not forced to throat punch you.”  

Fallon rolls her eyes, sinking into her seat. He’s not wrong, hence why she can’t come up with an argument against it. Scott sighs, his head pushed against the window of the jeep. He throws his phone down in his lap, “I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial.” 

“Just keep looking,” Stiles encourages. “Maybe it’s like a ritual or something? Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf,” he suggests, trying to come up with his own explanation for what they found. 

“It could also be a special skill or something,” Fallon chimes in, leaning forward. “Like something a werewolf has to learn how to do.” 

Scott rolls his eyes, getting overwhelmed with all the werewolf business. He grits his teeth before muttering under his breath, “I’ll put it on my ‘To Do List’ right underneath ‘figuring out how the hell I’m playing in this game tonight.’”

The more Scott speaks, the breathier he becomes. Fallon notices him wincing slightly with every movement. She furrows her eyebrows, placing her hand on his shoulder. He tenses under touch which never happens. The brunette goes to ask if he’s okay but is stopped by Stiles speaking. “Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves…” he proposes, still distracted by his own hypothesis. 

Scott’s irritation has seemed to reach an all time high. He loses his patience entirely and snaps at Stiles, “Okay, stop it!” 

Stiles frowns in confusion, “Stop what?” 

“Stop saying werewolves! Stop enjoying this so much!” Scott yells loudly, ripping his shoulder from Fallon’s hand. 

Neither Fallon or Stiles knows what caused this sudden change in behavior. He was calm before they got in the car. “I don’t think any of us enjoy trying to keep you from killing someone,” Fallon mumbles. 

Stiles however looks at his friend with concern, “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Scott’s tone shifts to a much darker aggravation making both Stiles and Fallon share a wary glance. Scott out of nowhere doubles over in his seat as if he’s in excruciating pain. “No, I’m not! I’m so far from being okay!” 

The werewolf begins to hyperventilate, clutching at his own chest. Stiles gets an idea as to what this sudden outburst could be about so he goes to reassure Scott, “You know, you’re going to have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later. 

“I can’t,” Scott’s face contorts with pain as he writhes wildly in his seat. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Stiles scoffs.

“No!” Scott shakes his head, correcting him. “I can’t breathe…”

Fallon surges forward, her overprotective instincts kicking in. “Why? Are you having a panic attack? Asthma attack? Do you need me to get your inhaler?” Scott simply shakes his head at all of her questions. She genuinely doesn’t know what could be wrong with him. She hasn’t seen him struggle to breathe like this any other time. 

“AHH!” Scott screams, making both of his friends flinch as he pounds his hand against the roof of the jeep. There is definitely strong werewolf undertones in his voice as it deepens multiple octaves. “AHH! Pull over!” He commands.

Stiles, who is completely alarmed, swerves the car out of shock. The sudden jerk makes Scott grimace in even more pain. He faces Scott fully, trying to figure out how to help. “Why? What’s happening?” 

Scott instinctively opens the backpack between them and is horrified to see that the wolfsbane plant and the rope with the flowers attached to it are inside. He looks at Stiles incredulously, “You kept it?” He seethes.

Stiles starts freaking out as well, not knowing how to handle the stressful situation. “What was I supposed to do with it?” He yells back.

“Leave it at the crime scene!” Fallon screams, obviously.

The close proximity with the poisonous plant only makes Scott sicker as time goes on. He forces his hands into fists, his claws starting to pierce the skin of his hand. He’s about to shift. “Stop the car!” 

Both Fallon and Stiles are petrified as Scott’s eyes turn into a golden yellow. Fallon slaps her human friend's arm, “Pull over!” She begs him. 

“Okay!” He exclaims, pulling the car off to the side, slamming on the brakes as he does so. As soon as the car is in park, Stiles grabs his backpack and throws himself sloppily out of the Jeep, running toward the edge of the woods. He uses what little strength he has to toss the bag as far as he can to get as much distance between it and Scott as possible. Once it's out of eyesight, Stiles throws his head back and sighs deeply before turning back toward the Jeep.

“Okay, we’re good, you can–”

He looks up and is completely horrified to see only Fallon sitting in his Jeep, her face a pale white. She looks at him, the only emotion evident on her face is concern. “He’s gone…”

Stiles wastes no time before clambering into his jeep and slamming the door shut. He allows Fallon time to jump over the center console, joining him in the front. She buckles the seatbelt in the passenger seat as he immediately takes off from his parked position. 

“We need to find him,” Fallon looks at the side of his face. “Before he tries to have an early dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Once he gets a grip on it, he hands it to Fallon. “Dial the number for the Sheriff’s station. If he’s done any serious damage they would’ve gotten a call by now.” 

She nods her head, fingers shaking as she looks for the number in Stiles’ contacts. She presses the button, putting it on speaker for him to talk to whichever dispatcher answers. As soon as the woman hears his voice, she’s immediately annoyed with the first sentence that escapes his mouth. 

“Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty,” she says from the other side of the phone. 

Stiles huffs loudly, “I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls…?”

“Odd how?” 

“Uh, like, an odd person, or…” Stiles struggles to come up with an example that doesn't sound like he's trying to find out if anyone has seen a Werewolf running through Beacon Hills. “A dog-like individual roaming the streets…?”

“That happens to look oddly similar to Scott,” Fallon suggests to the dispatcher. “Just a tad more facial hair that he’ll never be able to have.” 

The dispatcher runs out of patience for the two, putting an end to their conversation. “I’m hanging up on you now.” 

“No! Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait!” 

“Goodbye,” and with that the line goes dead. 

Fallon watches as Stiles clenches his fists around the steering wheel, hitting it out of frustration “Damn it!” He exclaims. 

“Hey,” Fallon stops him, grabbing one of his hands. She rubs a finger over his bright red knuckles. “We’ll find him, Sti. He’ll be okay.” 

The boy sighs, allowing her to calm him down. “Let’s just hope it’s before we find another dead body.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The nighttime air is crisp, sending a comforting chill down Fallon’s back as she sits on the bench with Danny, retying her shoelaces before going out onto the field. It's finally game night. The brunette is slightly nervous watching Scott and Stiles walk out to join the rest of the team. Luckily, Scott hadn’t tried to kill anyone on his latest rampage around town. He apparently just ended up jumping onto Chris Argent’s car after creepily staring at Allison through her window. 

“You okay?” Danny nudges her shoulder. “You look upset or something.” 

She shakes her head with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Just super excited to play,” she tries to convince.

By the look on his face, he doesn’t buy it in the slightest. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He reminds her. “I know you classify those two as your best friends,” he points to Scott and Stiles, “but you still got me if you ever need a break from… whatever that is.” She follows his gaze, grimacing as Stiles continuously berates Scott. 

For a moment, a genuine smile takes over her face. She nods in appreciation, “Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he pats her back affectionately before standing up and walking over to the goal. 

Fallon takes her own leave, standing up and traveling over to Scott and Stiles who have just joined the rest of the team on the sidelines. The bleachers are full of spectators excited for the Beacon Hills Cyclones' first real game of the season, and both teams are milling around on their respective sidelines as the referee gets in position on the field. She smiles when she notices Melissa and her dad sitting next to each other on the bleachers, engaged in what must be a very entertaining conversation. 

Allison and her father also enter the stands, the former waving enthusiastically at Fallon, holding her popcorn in her other hand. Chris smiles and nods at the girl as well, making Fallon’s nerves skyrocket as she pictures him with an automatic rifle in his hand. Then she remembers she’s going home with them after the game, her overnight bag shoved inside her gym locker. 

“Scott!” Lydia’s voice rings out causing the trio to look in the direction she’s coming from. There’s a certain confidence in her step, a plethora of threats no doubt about to leave her lips as she grips the boy by the collar of his jersey. 

Fallon watches as a jealous expression takes over Stiles’ face. She takes a step forward, leaning into his side. “Down boy,” she whispers. He bites the inside of his cheek but simply wraps his arm around Fallon, pretending the sight doesn’t irritate the living hell out of him. 

“I just want you to remember one thing for tonight…” 

Obviously uncomfortable by Lydia's close proximity and aggressive tone of voice, Scott looks down at her hand, which is still gripping his jersey, and responds nervously, “Uh... w-winning isn't everything?” 

Lydia chuckles sarcastically before letting go of his jersey and smoothing out the wrinkles, straightening his shirt sleeves before answering him. “Nobody likes a loser.” She patronizingly pats his chest before turning to take her seat with Allison and her father. 

Scott shakes his head from the encounter, going to sit down with Fallon and Stiles. He blows out a puff of air, “She’s scary,” he tells them, eyes blown wide. “If Derek doesn’t kill me for playing, she’ll definitely kill me for not playing.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, his eyes following after the redhead. “But she’s hot so it doesn’t matter.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Fallon says with a grossed out expression. 

“At least I don’t find a murderer who buried the body on his property attractive,” he spats back, referring to her comment about Derek in the woods. 

“Why are you acting like you didn’t find him hot too?” She quirks a brow. Stiles opens his mouth and closes it, not able to find a good retort. She smirks, readying her lacrosse stick, “That’s what I thought.” 

The referee blows his whistle causing both teams to charge out onto the field from their respective sides. Loud cheers emanate throughout the crowd as the starting players get into their assigned positions. Fallon takes her spot near Jackson, the two fist bumping as they get ready to play. She keeps a close eye on Scott, watching as he mumbles something under his breath. 

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers, knowing he’ll hear her. “Just try to keep your heart rate down.”

He barely glances in her direction, but she doesn’t miss the grateful smile he sends her. His stature becomes slightly more confident as the crowd continues to whistle and cheer loudly. It’s not long before the referee steps forward, placing the ball between Jackson and one of the players on the opposing team. 

“Down!” He orders them into position. Jackson and the other boy do as they’re told, crouching with their lacrosse sticks touching the ground. “Set!” The ref gives the final warning before the game starts, then the whistle blows. 

Jackson easily scoops up the ball, barely giving the boy in front of him a chance to blink. Fallon follows after the blonde boy, blocking for him as the other players try to knock him down. She manages to lose the player guarding her, freeing herself up for a pass. 

“Jackson!” She yells out at the same time Scott does. 

Scott’s wide open as well with no one coming after him. Fallon swerves to the side, trying to avoid another oncoming player that’s after her. She hopes Jackson takes the opportunity to pass to Scott as she now has more people blocking her. To her dismay, Jackson completely ignores Scott and tosses the ball to her. She grunts before managing to maneuver her way out of the trap the opposing player put her in. The ball lands in her net perfectly. Fallon turns to pass to Scott, but is stopped by player twenty-six on their team, taking the ball from her. 

She furrows her eyebrows, not understanding why he would do that. She shakes off her confusion before continuing her fast pace. Scott once again shouts for them to hand him the ball, but is completely ignored. Suddenly it makes sense to Fallon. They’re doing this on purpose as revenge for Jackson. She rolls her eyes, determined to get Scott the ball at least once during this game. 

Twenty-six throws the ball to another player who has at least three guards on him. Understandably, he misses the catch, giving the other team a perfect chance to swoop up the ball and head in the other direction. 

Scott throws his arms up frustratedly, “Are you kidding me?!” 

The Cyclones manage to get the ball back with number twenty catching the ball and passing it to Jackson. However, Jackson ends up getting slide-tackled, hard, which causes the ball to fly out of his lacrosse stick. Fallon and Scott seem to have the same idea as they see the white ball sitting idly on the grass. She nods at him, silently communicating that she’ll block for him if he wants to go for it. Unfortunately, Jackson sees the small interaction which causes the blonde to shoot up and dart for the ball himself, not wanting Scott to have any of the glory. 

The three of them all begin running towards the ball. Right as Scott is about to scoop it up, Jackson shoves him aside so that he’s able to regain possession of the ball. Scott falls to the ground with enough force that he rolls over several times. Fallon watches angrily as Jackson runs to score the first point of the game. She scoffs at his behavior, but diverts her attention over to Scott. She walks up to him, helping him on his feet. 

“Don’t worry,” she grumbles. “We’ll kick his ass.” 

The crowd in the bleachers starts to stand and cheer, while Stiles watches apprehensively, afraid that the unfair treatment towards Scott will cause him to inadvertently shift on the field. Coach, however, is thrilled by the fact that they scored the first goal of the game and screams from the sidelines, “That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!”

It seems now that the rest of the team is purposely ignoring Fallon as well, seeing as she tried to pass to Scott. She waits patiently to hear what Scott has to say as he’s the one who can hear what they’re talking about in the huddle. 

Fallon can hear Lydia loud and clear from the stands. She’s standing on her feet, forcing Allison to hold up a sign that says We Luv U Jackson. Watching Scott’s reaction made her frown. She rubs his back, “Ignore her. We’ve got this. Seriously, don’t let it bother you,” she warns. “We have bigger fish to fry.” 

Scott grumbles under his breath but goes back to listening to the other players. Fallon stays quiet to allow him to hear and isn’t surprised by the information he reveals when he turns to face her. “They were keeping it from me on purpose. And now, they’re doing it to you too.” 

She glares in Jackson’s direction who doesn’t even seem to notice her death stare. They’ve always gotten along as teammates so it makes her furious to see he’s icing her out just because he has a weird need to be in the spotlight. When she glances back at Scott, his eyes flash yellow, and his fangs slowly begin to poke out beyond his lips. She tries to grip his shoulders to calm him, but he’s already storming away from her, getting into formation. 

“Crap…” Fallon huffs. She shakes her head, running back to her own spot as well. Her eyes constantly travel over to Scott, her nerves at their peak at watching him in the process of shifting midgame. 

Allison and Lydia once again hold up the sign, cheering on Jackson. Fallon shakes her head as Scott’s eyes flash yellow again. Lydia really knows how to get under people’s skin. 

“Down! Set!” 

The whistle blows making everyone get ready to try and gain possession of the ball. The two players at the ball come to a stalemate, neither one able to push past the other to grab the ball. The force of having two lacrosse sticks with pressure from opposing sides causes the ball to fly haphazardly into the air. Fallon takes this as an opportunity to help Scott. She darts forward, somehow managing to jump over the heads of the other players, using her smaller stature to gain more height. She makes eye contact with Scott and both of them immediately start running as fast as they can towards the goal.

She deftly dodges a few players, smiling as she hears her father, Melissa, and Sheriff Stilinski cheer in the distance. Seeing a few more players chasing after her, she throws the ball towards Scott who continues the journey. He ducks, weaves, and spins around the other players. He easily slides the ball into the net causing the crowd to jump on their feet ecstatically. 

Fallon runs up to him, the two chest bumping confidently. He wraps his arm around her as they run back to the center of the field, high-fiving their teammates who congratulate them on their play. Both of them find it rather amusing as they were just conspiring against them moments ago. 

“McCall and Donovan!” Coach screams. “Pass. To. McCall and Donovan!” 

The brunette girl smirks smugly seeing how furious Jackson is over the attention being shifted from him to Scott. Everyone returns to midfield, getting in position as the referee gets ready to blow the whistle. Once he does, another stalemate ensues before number forty-three on the opposing team snatches the ball and heads towards their goal. 

Unfortunately, he gets right into Scott’s line of sight. Fallon watches as the boy terrifiedly tosses the ball deliberately into Scott’s net. She can only assume some of his werewolf-itude is what caused the sudden change in ferocity from the other player. She doesn’t take enough time to question it though, focusing on helping Scott make another goal. 

Scott rushes down the field, ducking to avoid any incoming blows from the other team. He runs in a zig-zag pattern, his newfound confidence and skill starting to border the line between natural and supernatural. He takes his shot, throwing the ball so hard that it tears directly through another player's net and flies straight into the goal. Fallon’s jaw drops. How on earth could they explain that? 

With the past two goals, the score is now five to five with only thirty-nine seconds left in the final quarter. Tensions and spirits are high as both teams are desperate to bring home this win for their individual school. Fallon isn’t quite sure if Scott is going to make it through this game without fully shifting. Her and Stiles exchange worried looks, which seems to be the only look they’ve been able to send each other recently. He nods at her, encouraging her to continue playing. She sighs, getting back into her starting position. She tries to ignore Scott’s heavy breathing, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that his canine teeth are now actually as sharp as an animals. 

The chirp of a whistle causes Jackson and the opposing player to fight for possession, which ends up with the latter getting the ball. However, his journey down the field is short as he drops the ball. Scott manages to snag it and starts running the other way but suddenly stops. He freezes in place causing everyone in the team and in the stands to start shouting at him. 

“No, no…” Fallon starts inching towards him. “Scott, come on.” 

The clock ticks down to seventeen seconds and the other team starts circling Scott like sharks, trying to get the ball back. “Scott!” She shouts. “Pass the ball! Look at me! Pass the ball!” 

Time is fleeting fast as the girl bounces around the field. She prays that something inside Scott’s mind snaps and he gets back into the game. And somehow, her prayer is answered. His eyes snap up, the golden tint gone as he throws the ball over the heads of the oncoming players and directly into Fallon’s net. 

She acts quick on her feet, knowing that they don’t have much time left. She approaches the goalie, the boy looking slightly terrified by her determined demeanor. Fallon spins, using all of her might to throw the ball into the net. The goalie actually flinches at the amount of force applied to the ball. His net comes nowhere near her shot, missing it completely as it makes it perfectly into the goal. 

The referee blows his whistle just as the buzzer sounds that the game has timed-out, leading all of the supporters of the Beacon Hills Cyclones to leap to their feet and cheer ecstatically, thrilled to see the final score is six to five with Beacon Hills winning the game

Fallon wants to focus on the fact she just scored the game winning point, but her mind is immediately drawn to Scott. She looks over her shoulder and through the masses of people trying to find her best friend, or maybe Stiles. When she finally finds the boy she’s looking for, he’s darting off towards the school. The need to go after him is strong, but if he’s about to shift it would be a better idea if she had some backup.

“Stiles!” Fallon shouts, politely thanking people who congratulate her on the game. She weaves in and out of the crowd, finally reaching the bench where he is. “We need to go,” she tells him with a serious expression. “Now.” 

“Hold on,” the boy mumbles, looking at his dad curiously who is on the phone. 

The girl huffs frustratedly, but knows better than to stop Stiles’ snooping. She waits patiently, hugging her dad and Melissa who have come up to tell her how great she did. She’s a tad surprised though when Chris Argent approaches her with an almost calculated smile. 

“That was some impressive stuff,” he compliments. “Allison wasn’t kidding when she said you were good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Fallon says appreciatively. “I’m glad you could come.” 

“Yeah, me too,” his voice sounds almost distant. “So, your teammate, McCall is it? He had some pretty interesting moves…”

Fallon swallows thickly, “Uh, y-yeah. Scott’s pretty good at what he does.” 

“Yeah,” his eyes are still focused on something in the distance. “Well, I’m looking forward to having more of a formal introduction with you this evening. That is if you still plan on coming over? I know Allison was really looking forward to it.”

His blue eyes are piercing through her soul. She chuckles awkwardly, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m really excited. I’ll be there, just after I change and stuff. Don’t wanna stink up your guys’ house,” she jokes in attempts to gain some oxygen back that’s been stolen from her lungs by the tense conversation. 

“Perfect,” he pats her back. “Congratulations again, by the way. I look forward to seeing more games.” 

And with that, he walks away from her. Fallon lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. When she finally turns around to talk to Stiles, his face represents how she feels on the inside. She furrows her eyebrows, “What’s wrong?” 

Stiles hesitantly makes eye contact with her, not really sure how to say his next sentence. “They let Derek out of jail…” he trails off, his mind still trying to process all of the information. 

“What?” Fallon tilts her head. She didn’t necessarily think he did it, but finding the body on his property was pretty damning evidence. It shouldn’t have taken just a few short days to get him off that easily. 

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “And the real kick to the nuts is that my dad ID’d the dead girl. Laura Hale. His sister.” 

Fallon’s mouth goes dry as she tries to find the right words to say. “That would kind of explain the makeshift burial,” she says weakly. 

Stiles just narrows his eyes at her, not knowing if he’s more appalled learning the dead girl was Derek’s sister or the fact his best friend just tried to justify it. He decides it can be both. “C’mon,” he grabs her hand. “We’ve gotta tell Scott.”

Pack Mentality 1x03

Episode 4

     “So you killed her?” Stiles asks bluntly, opening up the door to the school so he, Scott, and Fallon could walk in. Scott had just finished explaining to them the dream he had last night about him and Allison. It started off normal, but he ended up shifting and killing her on a school bus. 

“I don't know. I just woke up,” he exhales shakily. “And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, surprised. “I have. Usually ends a little differently.”

Fallon cringes, not needing that image in her head. “Stop talking,” she says.

“A,” I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and "B," never give us that much detail about you in bed again,” Scott shakes his head, just as grossed out as Fallon.

Stiles puffs out a breath of air, “Noted,” he nods. “Let me take a guess here–”

“No,” Scott stops him. “I know– you think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out.” 

“You might,” Fallon points out. They both look at her incredulously and she shrugs, “What? It’s true. I’m not saying that’s what will happen, but it is a possibility you have to consider. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say an alive Allison is better than a dead Allison.” 

Stiles shoves Fallon playfully, causing her to stumble to the side. Stiles wraps his arm around Scott’s shoulder seeing the glum look on his face. “Hey, come on! It's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.”

Scott raises his hands at Stiles as though to say, "Seriously?" before he frowns and thinks for a moment. An idea pops into his head as he looks in between his two friends, “Yeah… not a class, but maybe a teacher,” he says thoughtfully.

Stiles already knows exactly who Scott is about to suggest, “Who, Derek?” He balks at the suggestion. Scott continues to stare at him silently causing the spastic boy to smack him on the back of the head. “You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?” 

Fallon puts her finger up, stopping any more words from coming out of his mouth. “Oh no, there is no we,” she scoffs. “This was you two,” she gestures between them, “and your knack for terrible assumptions. I just got dragged along for the ride.” 

“We found the body on his property!” Stiles exclaims. “You looked just as terrified as us.” 

“That doesn’t mean I think he did it!” She counters. “I saw a dead body, obviously I was scared. But I still don’t believe he killed his sister in cold blood.” 

“Guys!” Scott laughs at their behavior. “I know it might be a long shot, but I need help,” he admits. “The way I chased her, dragging her into the back of that bus,” he recalls the incident, shuddering at the memory. “It felt so real.”

“How real?” Stiles asks sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. 

Scott shrugs, “Like it actually happened.” 

The trio opens the back door of the building they were in to head to the one across the courtyard, but before they could they’re all stunned speechless. They stop dead in their tracks, all of them staring horrified at the scene in front of them. Sheriff's deputies have taped-off a crime scene around one of the buses at the bus bay. The back of the vehicle is splattered with blood, and the emergency exit door has been almost completely ripped off and is hanging by a single hinge at the bottom. A crime scene investigator is snapping photos of the wreckage, including one of the back seats, which has been clawed open and is spilling its stuffing out onto the floor.

Fallon’s mouth gapes open in shock, looking over to her similarly scared friends. “… I think it did.” 

Scott’s face fills with guilt and horror as he spins around and walks back into the building they were just leaving. Fallon and Stiles struggle to keep up with him as he pulls out his phone, texting Allison. Fallon does the same, pulling up the girl's contact information. 

“I’ll try to call her,” she says, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. It rings a few times before naturally going to voicemail. She glances at Scott who’s last bit of hope is dimming, “She didn’t answer…”

He groans, repeatedly slamming the keys with the pads of his fingers as he sends yet another text. Stiles tries to reassure him, “She’s probably fine–”

“She’s not answering my texts, Stiles!” Scott groans anxiously. He starts frantically looking around at all the other students in the hallway, trying to see if Allison is among them. 

“Hey, this could all just be some crazy coincidence, okay?” Fallon tells him calmly, trying to remain a voice of reason despite her anxieties. “I’m sure she’s somewhere. Her dad would’ve already been out ready to kill whoever did it if she was dead, Scott.” 

“Just help me find her, okay?!” 

The werewolf is basically turning in circles as he continues to search for the girl. Stiles and Fallon do their best to try and spot her, but none of them can seem to find her. “Do you see her?” Scott asks, panicked. 

Stiles sighs, “No…”

“I don’t either,” Fallon shakes her head. 

Scott continues to look, anxiously running his hand through his hair while he does, until he finally speeds up and turns around the corner, losing control. Fallon and Stiles try to keep up with him, but end up getting lost in the sea of teenagers. They both look at each other, stress taking over their features. 

“Do you think he actually killed her?” Fallon asks.

“No, there’s no way,” Stiles shakes his head. His resolve crumbles slightly, “Right?” He looks at her unsurely. 

“He wouldn’t,” the brunette girl nods. “He-he cares about her too much. I don’t think he could,” she bites her bottom lip nervously. There’s no use in trying to find him in this state. He’ll only calm down if he finds Allison. Fallon huffs loudly, grabbing Stiles’ arm, “C’mon, we gotta get to class.” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     To Fallon and Stiles’ relief, Scott had found Allison not long after they lost each other. He texted them while Fallon was in her creative writing class and Stiles was in math. After a few pretty uneventful periods, everyone avoiding the hot button topic of the bloody bus, the trio is finally reunited in their chemistry class. 

Stiles and Fallon sit side by side at the two person desk while Scott sits directly in front of them. Their teacher, Mr. Harris, writes notes on the chalkboard in front of the class while a beaker of clear liquid bubbles in a stand where it hangs from a bunsen burner. 

Fallon dutifully writes her notes, highlighting what she deems important and keeping what she doesn’t in black pen. Stiles copies off her notes, finding that they make more sense than what Harris is writing on the board. The two of them are interrupted though as Scott turns around, “Maybe it was my blood on the door,” he suggests, his mind not able to think of anything else besides the accident. 

Stiles nods, “Could have been animal blood.” 

“Maybe you got hungry last night and went out for a midnight snack,” Fallon agrees. “You could’ve just tore up and ate a rabbit or something.”

Scott looks absolutely appalled by her theory, “Raw?” 

Fallon blinks, “Uh, yeah. What, did you think Werewolves kept little stove tops on hand to cook their prey?” She scoffs. “Obviously they eat things raw, Scott. And we don’t even know for sure because you can’t remember anything.” 

Scott is still offended, and none of them have noticed that Mr. Harris has turned to watch them talk with a stern look on his face and his hands on his hips. He finally speaks up in a snide voice to interrupt them, “Ms. Donovan, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out and put the books down every once in a while.” 

Stiles wastes no time as he begins to chuckle at the embarrassed look on Fallon’s face. He covers his mouth so Harris won’t see him making fun of her. She roughly pinches the back of his arm causing him to yelp and immediately start rubbing the sore spot. He looks at her incredulously and she sends him the most venomous smile she can muster. 

“I think you, Mr. McCall, and Mr. Stilinski would benefit from a little distance, yes?” The teacher lifts an eyebrow, almost daring one of them to challenge him. 

Scott scoffs in irritation as Stiles simply yells, “No!” 

Fallon just stares at the man unamused, “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she shrugs, grabbing her stuff and moving to the front of the room. Her seat is now directly in front of Jackson. Stiles is forced to move to the back of the classroom, leaving Scott in the center. It’s definitely going to be a lot more difficult to talk now. 

“Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much,” Harris snarks sarcastically. 

Fallon rolls her eyes, opening her notebook back up. The girl she’s sitting next to, Harley, doesn’t look at all surprised that the three of them got separated. Refocusing on the task at hand, Fallon continues her notes, color coding them as she goes. She internally groans, knowing she’s going to have to send Stiles a photo of them later now that he can’t just copy off of her directly. 

“Hey! I think they found something!” Harley shouts, shooting up from her seat and beelining it towards the window. Everyone in the class follows after her, all of them eager for a distraction. Outside in the parking lot, an ambulance is parked at a corner with their lights and sirens on, and two paramedics are quickly wheeling a stretcher with a middle-aged adult man on it towards the open doors in the back of the ambulance. Scott, horrified and certain that the man is dead, looks over at Stiles and Fallon, who has joined him at his left side

“That’s not a rabbit…” He whispers with wide eyes. 

The paramedics are about to lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance when suddenly, the man jumps into a seated position, grabbing the shoulders of the paramedics on each side of him with his hands, and begins screaming in fear. The sudden movement and scream causes all of the students watching inside to flinch, visibly startled. Scott, unable to watch any more of this, backs away from the windows until he's in the middle of the room. Stiles and Fallon immediately abandon the window, coming to their friend's aid.

“Scott, this is a good thing,” Fallon says softly. “He sat up which means he’s not dead. And if he’s not dead, that means you’re in the clear.” 

“Fall, I did that,” he looks out the window, dismayed that they now have confirmation someone was seriously injured by whatever happened last night. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The school day has been going by relatively fast. Fallon was expecting it to drag on a lot more than it was simply because of the accident happening outside. Most of the teachers have given up on trying to get everyone to focus. They know it’s a lost cause with how easily distracted teenagers are. 

Fallon takes a bit of the caesar salad wrap she prepped for her lunch, listening to Stiles and Scott continue talking about the incident. “But dreams aren’t memories,” Stiles points out.

“Then it wasn’t a dream,” Scott says. He sets his tray on the table, sitting directly across from Fallon. Stiles takes the empty chair next to the brunette girl as Scott continues. “Something happened last night, and I can’t remember what.” 

“What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?” Stiles questions skeptically. 

“Well he’s been doing this a hell of a lot longer than we have,” Fallon chimes in, placing her bag of cool ranch Doritos on Stiles’ plate, knowing they’re his favorite. “He’s bound to know something.” 

Scott sighs as Stiles waits patiently for an explanation. Scott leans forward, lowering his volume, “During the full moon, he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some totally innocent guy.”

Stiles leans back, shaking his head, “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t not know it,” he says, not convinced that he’s innocent. He bites his bottom lip in thought before exhaling in defeat. “I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.” 

Stiles scoffs, “No, you're not canceling, okay? You can't just cancel your entire life!”

“He’s right,” Fallon looks at Scott. “You shouldn’t have to give up everything that makes you a normal teenager. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” 

“Figure out what?” 

The group of three jumps as Lydia appears behind Scott, slamming her lunch tray down on the table to Scott’s left. Stiles, who is more than just a little startled by her appearance, begins stammering like an idiot. “Ha– Uhh–”

Seeing that Stiles is unable to come up with a quick lie, Fallon smiles over at her friend to cover up their topic of conversation. “Just homework and study group times. Conflicting schedules,” she explains with a nod. 

Stiles and Scott both nod in sync, “Yeah.” 

While Lydia briefly becomes distracted by someone passing by the table, Stiles leans forward so he’s only heard among his friends. “Why is she sitting with us?” 

Both Fallon and Scott shrug, not knowing the answer to his question. Suddenly, more people start to sit down at their table. Marcus Reed from the lacrosse team sits at the head of the table, while Danny takes a seat on Fallon’s right. Scott turns to see that Allison is sitting down next to him and smiles before moving his backpack so she can sit down. 

Harley sits down on Stiles' left, and he chuckles at the sight of her, causing Harley to roll her eyes good-naturedly. Fallon and Stiles share an irritated look, annoyed that their conversation was cut short by all the popular kids suddenly flocking to them. Fallon doesn’t have a problem with any of them, but some days she just wants to be with Stiles and Scott. Her social batter isn’t high enough currently to entertain a group of eight to ten people. 

She makes the effort to smile at Danny, the two falling into a rather easy conversation. Fallon really doesn’t understand how Danny and Jackson became friends. Danny is so nice whereas Jackson is so… not. Speaking of the devil, the blonde boy approaches the table, glaring at Marcus. “Get up,” he orders.

Marcus groans loudly, “How come you never ask Danny to get up?” 

Danny smirks as he bites into his green apple, “Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend's coin slot,” he quips back with no remorse.

Fallon discreetly high fives the boy next to her, giggling at his quick comeback. Marcus rolls his eyes before getting up, finding some of the other lacrosse players to sit with as Jackson fills up his spot. “So, I hear they’re saying it’s some kind of animal attack,” Danny starts the conversation. “Probably a cougar.” 

“I heard a mountain lion,” Jackson counters, always finding a way to contradict someone else.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows at the blonde’s words. She goes to correct him, but is stopped when Lydia is the one who speaks up. “A cougar is a mountain lion.” 

Everyone stares at the strawberry blonde blankly. Well, everyone except Stiles and Fallon who know the girl well enough to be aware of her intelligence. Lydia’s eyes widen as she realizes how dangerously close she is to revealing her secret. She clears her throat, “…Isn’t it?” 

Fallon raises an unamused brow before whispering, “Nice save…” 

Lydia sends her a warning glare before turning her attention back to the food in front of her. Jackson scoffs, “Who cares? The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway?” 

“Jesus,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “What crawled up your ass and died? He’s still a human being. Show some compassion.” 

Stiles glances up from his phone after quickly doing some research on the case, “Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” He pulls up a video on his phone and turns it so everyone can view it. It’s from a news website. 

“The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition,” the reporter finishes narrating and Scott gasps at the information. 

“Wait, I-I-I know this guy,” he points to the familiar face on the screen.

Allison looks surprised, “You do?”

He nods, “Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.”

Scott, Stiles, and Fallon all share a pointed look, knowing that this newfound information means something more than what they originally thought. Lydia glances at them with an annoyed expression, “Can we please talk about something slightly more fun, please? Like…” she gasps when she thinks of what to talk about, “Oh, where are we going tomorrow night?” She asks Allison who simply stares at her with a confused look on her face. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?” She clarifies. 

Allison raises her eyebrows and gulps nervously, realizing exactly what Lydia's about to do and trying to keep it casual in hopes of Lydia staying out of it. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do…” She looks at Scott apologetically, knowing Lydia is about to invite herself and Jackson into their plans. 

“Well, I am not sitting home again, watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun,” Lydia states, leaving no room for an argument.

Scott is completely stunned at this turn of events. He gapes helplessly making Fallon hide her smirk. “H-H-Hanging out? Like, the four of us?” He turns to Allison, who has covered up her displeasure at their plans being crashed by drinking out of her water bottle. “Do you wanna hang out? Like, us... and them?”

Allison looks just as excited as Scott does, and by that, not at all. But Fallon knows the girl well enough by now to see how well-mannered she is. There’s no way she’s going to blatantly turn Lydia down. “Yeah… I guess,” she replies in a wary voice, a fake smile plastered on. “Sounds fun.” 

The way Jackson scoffs makes it clear that the only one truly excited about this double date is Lydia. “You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.” He raises the utensil up to his eye, making Lydia snatch it out of his hands, glaring at him for his rudeness. 

“How ‘bout bowling? You love to bowl,” Lydia points out. 

Scott looks at Fallon and Stiles who are rapidly shaking their heads, trying to silently communicate that he shouldn’t go. Nothing good will come out of Jackson and Scott competing against each other in another sport. 

Jackson rolls his eyes, “Yeah, with actual competition.” 

“Then why don’t you and your… friend come, Fallon?” Lydia suggests with a pleading look while also simultaneously ignoring Stiles’ existence. “You two love competing with each other.” 

Fallon laughs loudly which could come off as a bit brash, but not enough to offend anyone. Stiles looks absolutely panicked at the prospect of being dragged into this. She shakes her head, “Uh, no thanks Lyds,” she rejects. “While I would absolutely love to sit there with you guys in tension filled silence, Stiles and I already have plans.”

“We do?” He asks, confused. She sends him a hard glare which makes his eyes widen in understanding, “We do.” 

Allison leans forward, an offended look on her face as she looks at Jackson. “And what makes you think we’re not actual competition?” She says, coming to her and Scott’s defense. “You can bowl, right?” She asks her boyfriend. 

Scott’s expression is an uneasy one, “Sort of…”

“Is it-is it "sort of," or "yes?” Jackson asks patronizingly. 

Fallon internally groans as she watches Scott’s face turn competitive. He clearly doesn’t want to be shown up by Jackson or feel any more inferior than he already does. “Yes,” he lies. “In fact, I’m a great bowler.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon was happy to have a free period at the end of her day. While everyone was still stuck in class, she happily got on her motorcycle and drove off. She has lacrosse practice after school, so she knows not to go too far, but she still wants some time to herself. She rides through the woods towards one of her favorite reading spots. The only people who know about it, of course, are Scott and Stiles. When she pulls up to the familiar rock, a smile graces her face. She parks her bike, hanging her backpack off the handles before grabbing the next book in the Harry Potter series. The Chamber of Secrets. 

She had finished The Philosopher’s Stone a few days ago and is already almost halfway through this one. She sits down in the mossy grass, leaning against the smooth boulder. A large tree trunk sits a few feet away. She’s always wondered how it was cut down with a base that large, but those thoughts leave her mind as she gets lost in the pages. 

She loves the complexities of all the characters in every book she reads. Being able to analyze and compare them to her own life and experiences is one of the main reasons she loves to read. It provides her an escape from her reality. At first, it was to put a little magic in her otherwise dull life, but recently the lines between fiction and nonfiction in her actual world have been blurring. 

She has an alarm set to remind her when she needs to start heading back for practice, but she doesn’t let that interrupt her. Her eyes glaze over the pages, turning one after the other. She doesn’t know how much time has passed until a voice pulls her out of the world she immersed herself in.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Fallon jumps when the masculine tone calls out, dropping her book on the ground in front of her. She turns around to find Derek Hale staring at her from only a few feet away, his hands buried in his pockets. “Where are your friends?” 

Fallon analyzes him, wondering why he came to talk to her. “At school…” she responds. 

He takes a few steps closer, “Then why aren’t you there?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, “I have a free period.” Her hands delicately pick up the book she was reading, dusting it off from the small specks of dirt that cover it. “Thought I’d come out here and read.” 

“With everything that’s been going on, you really think that’s a good idea?” He raises an eyebrow, his frown becoming deeper. 

“I clearly don’t have anything to worry about,” she tells him confidently. “Since apparently you’re always lurking around somewhere.”

He looks shocked at her wit, but doesn’t let it show for long. “And what happens when I’m not?”

“Then I guess that means I’m dead,” she says bluntly, opening her book back up to the page where she left off. 

His curiosity about this girl never fades. He genuinely cannot figure her out. She’s sarcastic like Stiles but in a way that no one can tell if she’s serious or not. “You’d really want that to be the case?” 

“Now look who’s asking a lot of questions,” she smirks, calling him out for what he said to her on their second official meeting. She doesn’t bother looking up from her book. “Look, I appreciate the concern or whatever this is, but I can handle myself.” 

“Against a werewolf?” He narrows his eyes. “No, you can’t. I’m not saying you’re not capable or strong, but you physically cannot take on a werewolf,” he explains, now standing above her. There’s still a healthy distance, but he’s much closer than before. “Not alone.” 

“I’m not alone,” she finally looks up at him. “I’ve got my own guard dog. He’s standing right here,” she nods at him. 

“I’m not your guard dog.” 

“Then why are you here?” She quips back. 

Silence. 

Fallon stares at him, waiting for an answer. Derek doesn’t move, his posture as rigid as his facial expressions. “Making sure no one else gets hurt,” he says monotonously. 

“Well, you’ve done your job,” she dismisses. “I’m completely healthy.” Her eyes travel back down to the pages in her lap, wanting to get back to the conversation the Golden Trio is having. 

Another wave of quietness passes between them. It’s peaceful, not as uncomfortable as Fallon would’ve assumed. Derek’s actually not that bad of company. It would probably be a bit less awkward if he sat down next to her or had a book of his own. Her eyes light up as she glances in his direction, “You wanna sit down?” She asks, moving over slightly. “I don’t bite. Oh, and if you do, no judgment, just sit a little further away,” she grins playfully. “I don’t know if you’ve had all your shots.” 

“Are you always like this?” Derek asks, his patience wearing a little thin. 

“Like what?” She tilts her head. 

“Aggravating,” he says with a clenched jaw. “Non-serious. Naive.” 

“First of all, I’m not naive,” she corrects him. “I just find it’s better to find the humor in situations rather than being a scowly, angry bear all the time,” her comment comes out as a jab towards him. “It takes forty-three muscles to frown and only seventeen to smile,” she informs him wisely. “So why would I bother making myself miserable when it just takes more work?” She closes her book, standing up from her spot. “Second of all… yes. I am always aggravating and non-serious.” She walks over to her bike, grabbing the leather jacket she completely forgot was his and wraps it around herself as she gets ready to go. 

He blinks, not expecting to see her wearing something of his. “You kept it,” he says, with his version of a surprised voice. It actually catches her off guard for a second as his tone is not as gloomy as usual. 

Fallon looks down at the jacket, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah… I did.” She clears her throat, shoving her book in her backpack. “Did you not want me to?” She asks him almost in a whisper, but with his werewolf hearing, it was clear as day.

He shrugs, averting his eyes. He doesn’t answer her question. She leans against her bike, grabbing her helmet. “Do you want it back?” She says, taking off the jacket and holding it out towards him. 

There’s a pause before he walks up to her, closing the distance between the two of them. He looks the jacket over and pushes it back towards the girl’s body. “No,” he states shortly. 

She keeps her eyes on him, “Do you want me to keep it?” 

Another shrug is all she gets. She holds the leather close to her chest, “Not a man of many words, are you?” 

“Just keep it,” he says. “I have more anyway.” 

“So this one wasn’t your favorite or anything?” Fallon smiles, her easygoing, playful demeanor returning. “I’m not stealing your security blanket that helps keep you from shifting?” 

“It can’t be my favorite if it’s yours,” he watches as she drapes it over her shoulder again. She’s pleasantly surprised at his answer which feels as though he’s returning her banter. 

“Very true Mr. Hale, very true,” she grins at him, mounting her bike with her backpack strapped on tight. “Well, I should probably get going… I’ve got lacrosse.” Derek nods and Fallon pulls the visor to her helmet down, “Thanks for keeping me company. And for making sure I don’t die,” she adds. 

“Just stay safe,” he tells her seriously. 

“I will. And if I ever need anything, I know you’ll be lurking in my corner.” She cockily starts her bike, speeding off into the distance. Derek simply watches her leave, desperately trying to convince himself she’s as intolerable as the two boys she’s friends with. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     After a rather long shift at the hospital, Fallon was happy to get home and into a pair of pajamas. She throws on a blank tank top and yellow sweatpants, letting out a refreshed sigh as she collapses on her bed. Her father had actually returned home an hour before she did and is already fast asleep. The night was pretty uneventful at first until Scott ended up showing up. He went to see Mr. Myers and sent the poor guy into a frenzy. He ended up having a seizure. 

The girl groans when she hears her phone ringing, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for the next decade. She huffs, forcing herself off her bed and over to her desk where she left her phone. Stiles’ name pops up on the screen and she answers, “Is there a reason you’re calling me this late, freckles? Should I be worried?” 

“Come outside. Now,” he tells her without giving any other information. “Oh, and bring a jacket. It’s kinda nippy.” Then he hangs up. 

Fallon scoffs before looking out her window. Sure enough, his blue Jeep is sitting right in her front yard, lights off so they don’t alert Michael who is already asleep. She shakes her head, throwing on her newly gifted black leather jacket and a pair of converse before heading out the door. 

She jumps into the backseat, closing the door behind her. “This better be extremely important because I am exhausted,” she warns them. “And I will actually kill both of you, my love for you guys be damned.” 

“Relax, this is probably the most important thing you’ll ever do in your life, okay?” Stiles waves her off. 

“Then what are we doing?” She asks.

“Going back to school.” 

Her curiosity fades into anger, “I’m leaving,” she grips the door handle and gets ready to jump out. 

Stiles quickly reaches over, putting the child lock on all the doors before zooming down her street. She stares at him incredulously and he rolls his eyes. “It’s for Scott,” he clarifies.

The other boy nods, “I saw Derek. He told me that in order to remember I have to go back to where everything happened. Use my senses.” 

“So we’re going back to the bus?” Fallon blinks. “The crime scene. Where we will most likely get arrested if we’re caught.” 

“Yup,” Stiles answers, popping the “p.” 

“Great,” she mumbles. 

Stiles drives the back way to get to the school. The terrain is a bit rougher since it’s through the woods, but they’re less likely to be seen going this way. The jeep rolls up slowly to the fence that encases the bus barn. There’s still crime scene tape all around the area and Fallon immediately knows that this is a bad idea. 

The trio gets out of the car, walking towards the fence and Scott looks at them like they’re crazy. “Hey, no– just me. You guys need to keep watch.” 

Stiles stops in his tracks, looking offended by Scott’s words. “How come we’re the ones that have to keep watch?” 

“I’m not necessarily opposed,” Fallon admits honestly. “Less likely chance for me to get caught.” 

Stiles smacks her arm before trying to pull her with him as he scales the fence. Scott grabs her from Stiles, setting her gently on the ground before yanking the other boy back onto the gravel. “Because this is my responsibility,” Scott tells him. “I need to figure this out, and you two need to make sure I don’t get seen.” 

“Okay, why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and we’re Robin and Alfred?” Stiles asks accusatively, crossing his arms. Scott just stares at him exasperatedly making Stiles scoff, “Did you ever think we don’t want to be your sidekicks all the time?!” 

“Nobody’s Batman, Robin, or Alfred any of the time!” Scott argues, throwing his hands up. 

Stiles deflates, very disappointed by the resolution of this argument, “Not even some of the time?” 

“You can be my Batman, Sti,” Fallon pats his back. 

“Thank you,” he points to her with a victorious smile. “I take back every bad thing I’ve said to you.” 

Scott groans in annoyance, “Just stay here,” he commands them both sternly. 

“Oh my God! Fine,” Stiles grabs Fallon, and they both return to the jeep. But not before Stiles yells out, “Fallon gets front seat privileges!” 

“Yes!” She celebrates. “Score.” 

They both see Scott roll his eyes before jumping over the fence with ease. Stiles slumps down in his chair, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Fallon glances at him before poking his side, “C’mon… you could’ve gotten stuck with worse. I think I’m pretty good company.” 

Stiles sighs, flipping his head over in her direction, “Did you mean what you said?” 

She smiles, “That you could be my Batman?” He nods. “Yes, I meant it,” she chuckles. “And I’ll be your Robin. Scott can be Alfred:”

“I like this new arrangement much better,” he agrees with her words. 

Fallon closes her eyes with a fond smile on her face as she listens to Stiles' broken up stereo playing today’s hits. She hums along, Stiles listening while also watching that Scott is still in the clear. There’s a comfortable silence until a topic pops up into Stiles’ head that he never got the answer to. 

“Fall, do you think I’m attractive to gay guys?” 

Her eyes shoot open and she sputters. If she could have done a spit take, she would have. “I’m sorry? What did you just ask me?” 

“Am I attractive to gay guys?” He reiterates, waving his hands around to emphasize his question. 

She blinks in shock, “Are you seriously asking this or is this some weird joke?” 

“Could you just answer the question please,” he huffs exasperated. 

Fallon turns to face him, crossing her legs so she can sit fully on the seat. “I’ll tell you what… I’ll answer, if you tell me if I’m attractive,” she proposes. 

Stiles sticks his hand out, “Deal.” 

They shake hands while simultaneously linking pinkies to solidify the exchange. Fallon tilts her head, taking in Stiles’ appearance. “Honestly? Yeah,” she nods. “I mean, you’re a good looking guy.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she chuckles at the disbelief in his voice. “You need to give yourself more credit. You’re hot. My only piece of advice would be to maybe grow your hair out a little bit.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, “How long should I do it? Like manbun status?” 

Fallon snorts at the image of Stiles with a manbun. She shakes her head, “No. Just like a few inches from the top,” she explains. “Plus, if you were to have sex or anything like that, most people want something to grip onto and run their hands through.”

His jaw goes slack at her nonchalance. He stutters for a moment before getting his sentence out, “Uh- is-is that something you like? Or…?”

Fallon shrugs, “I guess. I mean, when I kiss a guy I usually run my hands through his hair. It makes the moment more intimate.” 

Stiles stares at her shocked, “You’ve kissed people?! Like, real people?”

She rolls her eyes at his question, “Yes, Stiles. Real people.” 

“Who?” He scoffs, not believing she did something like this and kept it from him for so long. 

Fallon glances out the window, “I’m not sure you wanna know.”

“Uh- yeah, I do,” he nods with a huff. “Who was it? Or was there multiple?” 

“Well, yeah…” she rubs the back of her neck. “One guy.” 

“What does that mean?! You’ve kissed a girl?” He asks, his brain about to explode from all the new information.

“It was for practice,” Fallon defends herself.

“Okay now I definitely need to know,” Stiles leans in closer, waiting for her to reveal everything.

Fallon looks unsure. She bites the inside of her cheek, not wanting to anger him by her answer. She knows he’ll take it personally or out of context. Or… maybe he’ll take it well and use her as a reference. 

“Do you want to hear the guy or the girl first?” 

“Girl,” he replies almost immediately. 

Fallon raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on her face. His face flushes red at how eager he must’ve just sounded, but she doesn’t make fun of him. “Okay, but you have to promise not to get mad.” 

“I don’t know why I would get mad, but sure. I pinky promise to the little dwarf dancing on the moon, now get on with it,” he rushes. 

She playfully glares at him, taking a deep breath before revealing the answer, “…Lydia.” 

His pupils are blown beyond wide as the name of his longtime crush flows through Fallon’s lips. He doesn’t know whether to be appalled or oddly aroused. She can see the conflict on his face so she tries to explain, “It was like seventh grade, and it didn’t mean anything. It was her idea. She said we needed to be ready and I was over at her house, so it just… happened.” 

He sits in silence for another moment, staring at her as if his mind short circuited. “W-was it good?” He queries. “Do her lips taste like cherry or strawberry? I could never figure out what chapstick she used,” he rambles off. “Could you give me pointers? What does she like? Does she like long hair?” 

Fallon laughs, glad that this was his reaction. “Okay, one– cherry, two– no, I will not give you pointers. That’s weird. Three– I don’t know, it lasted like five seconds three years ago, and four– yes.” She answers all of his questions and he mentally notes all of them. 

“Okay,” he nods his head. “Now, who was the guy?” 

That’s when she nervously looks down at her shoes, almost as if they’re the most interesting things in the world. He waits impatiently, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh come on,” he urges, “there is literally nothing else that you could surprise me with.” 

“It was Scott,” she admits, blurting it out only to see if his last statement was true. 

It was not. 

“WHAT?!” 

“Yeah,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Last year. I went to drop him off after I got my motorcycle license and he invited me in for dinner as a thank you. He made me a cheeseburger and when I left, he walked me to the door and it felt like one of those moments where it should happen, but when it did it was like really weird,” she cringes at the memory. “It was good, don’t get me wrong, but we’re both not necessarily considered experienced. And we both regretted it right after because it felt like kissing a sibling.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles shakes his head. “Both of you, actually. How could you not have told me this sooner? Why him out of all people? Why have you never kissed me? Now I feel left out,” he pouts. 

He rambles off a few more questions so Fallon reaches over and places her hand over his mouth. She looks at him seriously, “Do you want me to kiss you?” She asks incredulously. “You’ve been kind of obsessed with Lydia since we knew what crushes were. I didn’t exactly think you’d be interested.”

She takes her hand back off now that he’s calmed down. He blinks rapidly, looking everywhere in the car and then back to her. “I-I don’t know. I mean, would you actually kiss me if I asked you to?” 

Fallon shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

He gapes at her, “I don’t understand what’s going on right now.” 

She throws her head back, letting out a wonderful laugh. It’s a genuine one. Fallon has always had different levels of laughter, and this has to be her most hearty laugh, which is usually accompanied by a snort. She glances at him with admiration, patting his cheek, “Don’t stress about it. If there’s a time in the future where you still want me to kiss you, I will. But I’m afraid if I do right now, I might send you to an early grave,” she jokes.

 He nods in agreement, a small smile breaking out on his face, “So, can I get that in writing, or…?”

“I’ll remember,” she reassures him. “Just gotta ask. And obviously when we’re both single.” 

“Right,” he clears his throat, wondering if he will ever take her up on this offer. 

“Okay, now it's your turn,” she pokes his chest. “Am I attractive?” 

He stares at her as if she’s stupid, “I thought just asking you to kiss me kind of answered that question.”

Fallon smacks his chest at his patronizing tone, but she finds it endearing. “Whatever,” she playfully rolls her eyes. “I was just curious.” 

“Obviously you’re attractive,” he answers. “You’re beautiful, smart, you play lacrosse, you can sing, you’re happy, you’ve got the best freakin’ smile in the world. Yes, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he lists off genuinely, looking into her eyes softly. 

Her cheeks heat up at the list of compliments. Her and Stiles might bicker a lot, but it’s moments like these that they share between just them that mean so much. Their friendship has always been filled with teasing and love. She shoves him gently, “Don’t be weird,” she grumbles. 

He pushes her back, “I think the correct response is ‘thanks for the compliment.’ Which you need to learn how to accept by the way.” 

Fallon goes to respond, but is stopped when a pair of headlights heading towards the exact bus Scott is in flash in their direction. She gasps, “Crap.” Her arms flail around for a second before she settles on reaching over Stiles and slamming her hand down on the horn. A loud honk blares throughout the quiet space, catching Scott’s attention. He frantically turns and runs down the aisle of the bus, hopping out the front door, barely hurdling over the crime scene tape before he leaps up onto a red SUV. He uses the vehicle as a vault to flip over the chain-link fence like a gymnast. He somersaults lightly as he makes contact with the ground before rushing towards Stiles and Fallon. 

“Scott, hurry up!” Fallon whisper yells, making hand motions to get him to pump his legs faster. 

Stiles anxiously taps the steering wheel until Scott is successfully in the car. As soon as the boy slides in, Stiles turns his key in the ignition and hits the gas as soon as Scott tells him to go. The three of them speed away from the school, the empty back road actually soothing them from the high adrenaline situation. Stiles actually kept to his word, allowing Fallon to remain in the passenger seat. Not that they had enough time to switch positions anyway. 

Fallon turns in her seat to look at Scott who has his eyes closed and his breathing rather heavily. “Did it work?” She asks. “Do you remember what happened?” 

Scott glances through the back windshield before he replies, “Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood? A lot of it was mine,” he reveals.

Stiles’ eyes widen in alarm, “So you did attack him?”

He shakes his head rapidly, “No. I-I-I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine–” he narrows his eyes, trying to put the pieces together of what he just saw. “It was Derek.” 

Fallon’s heart sinks. She furrows her eyebrows, “H-hold on–”

Stiles cuts her off, “What about the driver?” He asks, not able to wait to for Fallon to get her statement out. 

“I think I was actually trying to protect him.” 

Fallon shakes her head, “This doesn’t make sense,” she pokes a hole in Scott’s logic. “Derek wouldn’t sit here and purposefully help you remember that he attacked the driver.” 

“It’s gotta be a pack thing,” Stiles proposes.

Scott tilts his head curiously, “What do you mean?” 

“Like an initiation,” Stiles elaborates. “You do the kill together.” 

“Because ripping someone’s throat out is a real bonding experience,” he scoffs sarcastically. 

“Yeah, but the good news is that you didn’t do it,” Fallon’s voice lightens reassuringly, even though she doesn’t believe Derek did it either. “Which means you’re not the killer. And it also means that–”

“I can go out with Allison!” Scott says excitedly, a dopey smile on his face.

Fallon and Stiles shoot him an offended look, “I was actually gonna say that means you won’t murder us,” she clarifies, tilting her head at his priorities.

Scott looks at them sheepishly, realizing he hadn’t even thought about that part yet. “Oh, yeah… that too.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon messes with her curls nervously as she and Stiles run up to the McCall residence. She notices Melissa’s car in the driveway and knows she’s probably already inside sleeping after her long shift at the hospital. Stiles has picked her up and informed her that Garrison Myers died from his injuries while Scott was out on his double date with Allison. The two friends felt more than compelled to share the news with Scott, especially after what he discovered on the bus. 

Fallon pushes Stiles up so he can reach the window on the side of the house. He slides the glass open before falling unceremoniously into the room. She chuckles, grabbing onto a ledge and hoisting herself up. Stiles grabs her arm, pulling her in as well. Of course, he stumbles backwards from the force and she ends up falling on top of him. They both groan from the impact, noses practically touching. Stiles smiles nervously and Fallon playfully rolls her eyes, rolling over to get off of him. 

The two of them stand up, Fallon moving to close the window. The duo doesn’t even notice the shadowy figure approaching them from behind with a baseball bat in hand. They spin around and come face to face with a terrified looking Melissa. 

“WHOA!” Stiles screams, running behind Fallon for protection. 

She puts her hand in front of her face, the three of them screaming at the sudden intrusion. The bat flails wildly and the two teens squeeze their eyes shut, bracing for any impact. After a moment, they finally stop. Melissa, exasperated and irritated, puts down the bat and half-screams at them. 

“Stiles! Fallon! What are you doing here?!” 

Stiles' voice is just as exasperated, as though Melissa is the one in the wrong here, especially when he remembers that Scott almost did the exact same thing to them with the bat. “What are we doing here?” He puffs out a breath of air. “God, do either of you even play baseball?”

“What?” Melissa asks, completely overwhelmed. 

Suddenly, the light flicks on, revealing that Scott has returned home. Melissa wastes no time turning towards him and scolding him, “Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?” 

“But we lock the front door,” Scott says obliviously. “They wouldn’t be able to get in.” 

Melissa gives him a pointed look, “Yeah, exactly.” Her mind travels back to the mandated curfew and changes the subject, “And, by the way, do any of you care that there’s a police-enforced curfew?”

The three friends make eye contact, shrugging. “No,” they reply simultaneously. 

Melissa rolls her eyes to the ceiling and mutters under her breath, “No.” She sighs, throwing her hands up as a sign of defeat, “All right, then. Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for one night, so…” She tosses the bat onto Scott’s bed next to where Stiles and Fallon are before turning to walk towards the door. She pauses, kissing Fallon on the forehead as if she were her own daughter before bidding her son goodnight. 

Scott smiles sweetly at his mom, “Goodnight.” 

When Scott turns back to his two friends, he takes note of the serious looks on their faces. He frowns in concern, dragging his desk chair over so he can sit in front of them. “What?” He asks. 

Stiles hesitates for a moment, him and Fallon sharing a nervous glance. He turns to Scott, fidgeting with his hands, “My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago… It’s the bus driver.” 

Scott looks at them confused and Fallon sighs, “My dad’s the one that operated on him. They’re saying he succumbed to his wounds,” she says sadly. 

“Succumbed?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Scott, he’s dead.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Pulling up to the burnt down Hale house, Fallon begins questioning every decision she’s made in the past two hours. It’s about one in the morning and no one knows where she is. She didn’t tell Scott or Stiles and her father wasn’t even home, finishing off his shift at the hospital. But she couldn’t help her curiosity. She needs to know what’s going on and she can’t wait for Scott to come to his senses and ask. 

She parks her bike, hopping off of it. She has a feeling Derek already knows she’s there, but she still walks up to the door, knocking on it as if she were visiting a friend. No one answers, but the blackened wood still swings backwards. The late night wind howls, making her turn around in paranoia. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she gazes into the dark woods. When she notices his black Camaro on the side of the house, she can see that one of his windows has been smashed. She tilts her head.

“What are you doing here?” 

Fallon spins around, her eyes going wide as she watches Derek walk down the dinky steps. The moon casts a bright glow over his body, contrasting the darkness of the broken down home. She notices small gash marks covering his arms, but they seem to be healing right before her eyes. It’s remarkable. 

“What happened to you?” She asks her own question rather than answering his. 

He finishes his journey down the stairs, using the towel in his hand to wipe off the remaining blood before the gashes completely close. “Scott,” he answers, tossing the cloth into a far corner. She looks around the home, splintered wood everywhere. The interior looks like it’s been freshly destroyed and judging by his roughed up appearance, she can only assume that a fight broke out between the two. “Now answer me. What are you doing here?” 

The girl swallows thickly, her hands clenched at her side. “The bus driver,” she begins. “He died tonight. And… I-I don’t want to be in the dark about it. I can’t wait for Scott to sit here and figure it out. I want to know now,” she looks him in the eyes. “You’re the one who told him to go back to that bus to figure out if he killed Mr. Meyers. He said he saw you as the one hurting him. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why you would purposely remind him that it was you, seeing as he and Stiles had no problem turning you into the police.” 

“You want to know if I killed him.” 

“I want to know what the hell is going on,” she corrects. “So if that entails you being a murderer, then yeah, I’d like to know. Because I’m not going to keep defending you to them when I barely even know you. And then you actually end up being some psycho killer who ripped his own sister in half.” 

He remains completely calm despite her erratic demeanor. He shrugs his shoulders, maintaining his distance. “Do you think I killed him?” 

Fallon pauses. She clenches her jaw tightly before sighing irritatedly, “No,” she answers with a scoff. “I don’t think you did anything, but I should. I should believe that you did it because everything points to you. And as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t given me any reason to believe you’re not a killer. Yet I just don’t. Something in me tells me you’re innocent. So I want an explanation. You’ve been telling me to ‘stay safe,’ well then clue me in.” 

Listening to her heartbeat, despite her being exasperated and no doubt exhausted from how late it is, it’s steady. She’s telling him the full and honest truth. She really believes he didn’t do it. His face remains blank but he inhales deeply, “There’s another.” 

She furrows her eyebrows, “Another what? Werewolf?” She asks incredulously. 

“Yes,” he nods. “He’s the one who killed the bus driver, and my sister. He’s the one who bit Scott,” he explains, causing the girl to take a moment to process. “It’s called an Alpha. Scott and I are Betas which means this thing is much more powerful, more ferocious than both of us. My sister came looking for him and that’s how she ended up dead. Now I’m here trying to find him, but I can’t do it without Scott.” 

“Why?” She narrows her eyes. 

“Because he’s part of his pack. He bit him which means they have a connection,” Derek elaborates. “I can’t find him without Scott’s help. That’s why I’ve been telling you to be careful. You’ve seen what this Alpha is capable of.” 

“So why not just be honest from the get go? Why make Scott, all three of us, go through this whole process just to get a glimpse of what we’re really dealing with?” She scoffs. “You could’ve told us there was another from the beginning.” 

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” he says. “None of you would have, especially them. I went to jail because they thought I killed my sister, and immediately assumed I also murdered the bus driver. You all needed to figure it out on your own. And now, you all know.” 

“What do we do?” She looks up at him. He simply stares at her so she huffs, “If you need Scott’s help, that means you’re getting Stiles and I’s help too. So… what do we do?” 

“I don’t need your help,” he tells her and begins to walk away. 

“Well you’re getting it,” she insists, following after him. “Tell me what needs to be done.” 

“Go home, Fallon,” he dismisses her. “This is beyond what you can do.” 

“Try me.” 

“I said, go home,” his command sent chills down her spine. His voice drops a few octaves, his eyes briefly flashing yellow as an intimidation tactic. He’s trying to scare her. 

“No,” she breathes out shakily. 

“You’re scared,” he blatantly states. “If you can’t handle this, what makes you think you can handle an Alpha?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Fallon persists. “What can I do to help?” 

“Stay out of the way,” he grumbles, making his way back up the stairs without so much as a second glance.

Heart Monitor 1x06

Episode 7

To Fallon’s surprise, after her accident and spending pretty much all night in the hospital, when she returned home, Derek was still there. Pretty engrossed in his book to her delight. He was pretty concerned about her leg, which happened to be a clean break. He was furious when he found out what happened, but so was Stiles. It was interesting hearing them say pretty much the exact same thing without the other knowing. They both unknowingly agreed that Scott needs to step away from Allison to regain focus.

Stiles’ idea of getting Scott to understand his mistakes is by giving him the silent treatment. So sitting in their shared class, Fallon stares blankly at the white board, periodically writing down notes as Scott desperately tries to get them to talk to him. After a while she did start to feel bad. He has apologized incessantly since the accident and while Fallon did originally want to hit him with a car of her own, she slowly began to miss talking to him.

“Seriously?” Scott sighs upsetly. “You guys seriously are still not talking to me?” No response. “Fallon, you know how sorry I am. I mean, at least it was a clean break, right? My mom says they have a better chance at healing without complications.”

The girl looks down at the white cast covering her leg. He’s right, clean breaks do have a better chance at healing fully. She’s devastated though that she’ll have to sit out at lacrosse practice for the next couple of weeks, which is actually one of the main reasons she wanted to wring Scott’s neck. But knowing Coach, he’ll kill Scott before she does.

She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. She pops one into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. She didn’t do it as a way to make Scott feel bad, but seeing him hang his head in shame out of the corner of her eye did make her feel slightly vindicated.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” He tries once again. Fallon can hear the sadness in his voice. She glances at Stiles, seeing if he’s ready to give in yet. Freckles shakes his head, commanding her with his eyes to stand her ground. She huffs, dropping her head into her hand with a frown. Scott leans forward even further, tapping Fallon on the shoulder. “Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... that I went to Derek for help?”

Fallon’s head snaps towards Stiles faster than it ever has before. She makes a wild gesture with her hands, showing how desperately she wants to give her opinion on the matter. Stiles tries to stay strong, but the pleading look in her eyes causes him to groan. He exhales loudly out of his nose, “If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting im. But, obviously, I'm not talking to you…”

Fallon’s lip quirks up in a small smile. She lazily writes in her notebook, pretending not to care. “And if I was talking to you, I’d say that I’m proud of you for stepping up and getting help from someone who has more experience with this than you.” Stiles glares at her for complimenting him and she just shrugs. “It’s like the devil and angel on the shoulder thing,” she explains. “I’m the nice one.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles narrows his eyes, “And I’ve kissed Taylor Swift.”

Scott smiles brightly as things seem to return to normal between the three for a moment. Her and Stiles make eye contact, faces going stoic for a split second. They wordlessly communicate, making Scott wonder how they learned to read each other’s facial expressions so well. Both of them turn around at the same time.

“What did Derek say?”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Walking out of their class together, Scott sticks to Fallon’s side which isn’t heavily unusual, but she’s used to him taking up Stiles’ side, not hers. Most of the time when they walk together, Stiles is in the middle while Fallon takes up his left and Scott his right. But now she’s in the middle. She doesn’t mind it, it’s clearly him feeling guilty over what happened. He even took her backpack from her before she could even grab her crutches. If this is the new treatment he’s giving her, she’s definitely not going to complain.

“Wh--? He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks him incredulously after hearing what Derek said to Scott.

“Yeah…”

“All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” He gestures between Fallon and himself.

Scott sighs, “I know. That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it,” he explains.

Fallon tilts her head in thought, “I mean, it’s not impossible…” she admits. “I know it feels difficult right now, but Derek has control doesn’t he?” She points out with a shrug. “He obviously learned how to do it over time. I don’t think he came out knowing how to be a werewolf. While I do believe he came out with a leather jacket and angry cat face, I don’t think he came out being an expert on control.”

“How do you think he’s going to teach you?” Stiles asks, nodding along with Fallon’s statement.

“I don’t know,” Scott adjusts his backpack strap with an unsure expression. “I don’t think he does either…”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend's lack of knowledge, “Okay. When are you seeing him again?”

“He told me not to talk about it,” Scott answers. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Fallon shoots him a pointed look, “When?” She asks, knowing there has to be a more specific time than that.

Scott looks at her, huffing as he knows he can’t keep anything from her after letting her get run over. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

Stiles nods, “After work. All right. Well, that gives us to the end of the school day then.”

Scott furrows his brows, “To do what?”

Stiles and Fallon make eye contact, smiling in unison, “To teach you ourselves.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When lunch rolled around, Fallon was summoned by Lydia and Allison, the two girls wanting to see how she was doing after all that happened. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long as Stiles strode by, grabbing her backpack and lunch tray and taking it over to their usual table. She watched after him, jaw agape while the other two girls just looked at her confused. He just stared at her, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to hobble over to him. Seeing as he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, she bid her two friends goodbye before venturing over to him.

That brings them to the present moment, her smacking the back of his head for his rude behavior. “Y’know you could’ve just asked me to sit with you like a normal person,” she scolds, plopping down in her seat.

Stiles takes her crutches, putting them on his other side so they’re not in her way. “If I would’ve done that you would’ve just put your finger up and told me to wait,” he points out. “At least this way, you couldn’t tell me no,” he smiles innocently.

Fallon narrows her eyes but can’t prevent the grin that spreads across her face. She shoves him playfully, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re not mad at me,” he rolls his eyes, popping a french fry from her plate into his mouth. “You can’t be mad at me. You love me too much. Your life would be so boring without me in it.”

“What you call boring most people would consider peaceful,” she shoots back sarcastically.

Stiles reaches over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him as he messes up her hair. The two of them roughhouse for a moment before Scott not-so-subtly slides into the seat across from them, clearly still avoiding Allison.

Fallon tilts her head, still stuck in Stiles’ lap. They stare at him as he hides his face behind one of his textbooks. The girl lifts an eyebrow, “I think using the book as a shield is making your intentions more obvious,” she says. “Besides, she’s not even looking over here. She seems pretty engrossed in whatever that book is about.”

Scott peeks over the pages, noticing that his somewhat girlfriend isn’t looking in his direction. He exhales, lowering the book but not straightening his posture to full height. “So, did you guys come up with a plan yet?”

Stiles nods, silently checking with Fallon. “We think so.”

He stares at them hopefully, “Does that mean you guys don’t hate me now?”

“No,” Fallon takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“No,” Stiles scoffs in agreement. “But your crap has infiltrated Fallon and I’s life, so now we have to do something about it,” he answers sassily. “Plus, I’m definitely a better Yoda than Derek.”

“I choose to take on a more Haymitch Abernathy role in this situation,” Fallon shrugs. “Drunkenly making sure my pseudo children don’t kill themselves,” she points at the two boys.

“Okay,” Scott nods with a small smile. “Yeah, you guys can teach me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your Yoda,” Stiles smiles.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says in a gruff voice, trying his best to mock the character from the films. Fallon chuckles, shaking her head at how horrible it was. “I said it backwards,” Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, I-I know,” Scott nods slowly, showing how he still has never watched the movies, despite how many times Stiles has begged.

“All right, you know what?” Stiles gets up angrily, grabbing Fallon’s bag and crutches before helping her up. “I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.”

He storms off, Fallon huffing as she tries to keep pace. She shoots Scott an apologetic glance, but by the way Allison is approaching him, Stiles having a fit about Star Wars is the least of the werewolf’s worries.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon’s theatre class had ended up being rather active for the girl’s current predicament. They were introducing new stretches and class bonding exercises to get everyone ready for the Beauty and the Beast production. She was upset that she couldn’t participate, but her teacher, Ms. Potter was more than understanding. She gave Fallon the script early, granting her a free period to read over it since she can’t do any of the activities in class.

So now she sits with a highlighter dangling from her mouth on the lacrosse field, her legs sprawled out. Her eyes gaze over the pages, writing small notes in her notebook about each character and what makes them tick. She briefly glances up as Stiles throws the equipment for Scott on the floor, looking at her with curiosity.

“What are you reading?” He asks, tossing his lacrosse bag at her to hold.

She catches it with ease, setting it down beside her. “The script for the play.”

“Oh,” he comments, not knowing it was that time already. “When are auditions?”

“Next week,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “I don’t think I’m gonna audition though. There’s just too much going on.”

Stiles looks at her incredulously, “What?” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. You have to audition.”

“Stiles–”

“Fall, you are so good at singing,” he huffs. “You can’t just not audition. That would be like a crime to everyone’s ear holes.”

She playfully glares at him, “While I appreciate the compliment, there will be other shows for me to do. Right now, my priority is here with you and Scott.” She leans back on her arms, “Plus, I’m kind of stretched thin as it is with lacrosse and school,” she opens up honestly. “My counselor is already talking about enrolling me in a college English course next semester, so I just want to focus on getting through high school… and not getting ripped apart by a werewolf in the process.”

He looks at her with sympathy, but ultimately understands where she’s coming from. “All right. Well, you know that Scott and I would go see every show if you did decide to do it.”

“I know,” she smiles appreciatively.

At that moment, Scott comes running out of the school and over to his two friends. He stops in front of them, “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “It took me a minute to convince Mr. Smith to give me a free period,” he sets his backpack on the floor next to Fallon as well.

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off hurriedly, grabbing something and handing it to Scott. “Okay. Now, put this on,” he commands.

Scott takes it, inspecting it with a confused look, “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He queries, unsure of how it would benefit them.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Fallon corrects nonchalantly, still observing the script.

Stiles speaks defensively, “Temporarily misappropriated,” he counters before turning his attention back to Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Fallon shakes her head as Stiles pulls out a cellphone that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Scott’s jaw goes slack, “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?” He asks warily.

Stiles nods slowly, “That… I stole.”

“Why?” Scott looks at his friend, not even knowing where to start on labeling his issues.

“Because Master Yoda over here doesn’t understand the concept of rules,” Fallon smirks as Stiles looks more than offended. “Or laws, or personal boundaries. A side effect of your father being the sheriff.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear it,” he puts his hand up in her direction. “Last time I checked, that father got you out of a speeding ticket last week when you were practically flying through a residential area like Wolverine in X-Men Origins.”

“That was a very specific comparison,” Fallon snickers.

“Anyway…” he sends Fallon a look that says to stop interrupting unless she plans on being helpful. He points to the monitor on Scott’s wrist, “All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry... Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate,” he carefully explains the theory him and Fallon had been talking about.

“Like the Incredible Hulk?”

Fallon shrugs, “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.” She figures letting him think he’s a superhero will get him to try harder. It’s like Stiles and his unnatural fixation with becoming Spiderman. She lets him believe it could happen. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did. He definitely wouldn’t look half bad in the suit.

Scott smiles widely, “No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Would you shut up and put the strap on?”

The spastic boy tosses Fallon the phone, assigning her to keep track of his heart rate. The two boys travel out to the center of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott’s arms behind his back. Freckles smiles mischievously at Fallon from behind Scott. She raises an amused eyebrow, knowing this is Stiles getting revenge for the brunette girl.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!” Scott complains as Stiles walks a few feet away, bending down to pick up his own lacrosse stick.

He blatantly ignores Scott’s words, “All right. You ready?” He asks, scooping a ball into his net.

“No.”

“Remember– don’t get angry,” Stiles warns him, cocking his arm back to launch the ball.

Scott shifts on his feet, eyeing Stiles unsurely. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” he voices.

Without another words, Stiles chucks the ball at Scott’s body, pelting him roughly. Fallon winces from her spot besides Stiles, glancing at the heart rate monitor. Still steady for now, only moving up one point. Stiles readies another ball, throwing it as hard as he can, nailing Scott in the chest.

“Oh, man!” The boy cries out. “Okay, that one kind of hurt.”

Fallon watches as a small satisfied smile makes its way onto Stiles’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, offering his stick, “Wanna give it a go? It’s pretty therapeutic actually.”

“No!” Scott shouts with wide eyes. “Do not give her that stick.”

Stiles shushes him like a child, “Quiet. Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm.” He reminds before smirking as he helps Fallon to her feet. He hands her the stick, looking Scott directly in the eye. He pats her back, helping her stay upright. “Give it a go.”

Scott starts muttering encouraging words to himself under his breath as Fallon adjusts her grip on the stick. She smoothly scoops up a ball, licking her bottom lip. She lifts the stick, throwing it roughly at her best friend. The ball collides harshly with his gut, making him double over in pain. It sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“AHHH! Son of a bitch!”

“Nice!” Stiles chuckles, high fiving her. Scott shoots them an incredulous look which makes Stiles clear his throat awkwardly. He dismisses Scott, “Heart rate,” he points stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Scott screams at them with a heavily clenched jaw.

Fallon goes to sit back down, noticing his number climbing higher with every passing second. She shares a warning glance with Stiles before looking at Scott again. “Don't get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry!” He responds frustratedly.

Stiles continues his assault on Scott as Fallon carefully monitors Coach’s phone. She begins to get nervous as she watches the numbers climb higher and higher. 140. 141. 142. That’s when Stiles knocks him in the jaw, making Scott almost fall to the ground in pain. The boy tries to regain his footing, “Stop. Just wait– Wait, just hold on–” he groans, doubling over once again, but this time he actually collapses to the floor.

157. 158. 159. 160.

“Stiles!” Fallon gets his attention, a cautionary gaze in her eyes as she flashes him the phone. Scott continues groaning as Stiles places his stick on the floor. Suddenly the duct tape around his wrist flies off in different directions. Stiles and Fallon watch him with wide eyes. He’s shifting. The heart monitor starts beeping rapidly, his heart rate reaching high numbers that are nowhere near healthy for a normal person.

“Scott?” Stiles calls out warily, trying to find a way to calm him down.

His breathing gets heavier and deeper after a moment as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Fallon glances back at the phone to see the numbers slowly decreasing and returning to normal. She and Stiles let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“That could’ve gone in a seriously horrific direction,” she mumbles to him.

Stiles nods slowly, helping Fallon to her feet. The two of them travel over to the boy who is still folded over on the ground. “Scott, you started to change…” Stiles says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott breathes heavily as his pulse is still returning to normal, “From anger,” he adds. “But it was more than just that– it was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So Derek is right,” Fallon says thoughtfully. “It is anger that elicits a reaction.”

Scott shakes his head defeatedly, “I can’t be around Allison,” he says glumly.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles questions.

“No…” he looks up at them sadly. “Because she makes me weak.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks alongside Stiles as they walk into Coach’s economics class. The two of them snicker at a joke Fallon told him on the way in, earning a confused glance from their teacher. For how funny that man is, he sure doesn’t seem to be a big fan of laughter. The two teens just giggle again at his look of confusion before finishing their journey to the middle of the class. Stiles sets Fallon’s stuff down in the chair next to Scott’s, the two boys not having let her carry anything of her own all day. It was endearing and annoying at the same time, but she let them do it.

Stiles goes to sit behind Fallon, but a quick panicked look from Scott gets his attention. “Stiles. Sit behind me!” He whisper yells.

Fallon looks up and sees Allison beelining it for the exact same seat. Stiles scrambles to the side, trying to get all of his belongings and himself into the chair before she can. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Allison smoothly slides into the seat, smiling at Scott as she completely ignores Stiles. Scott turns in his chair, a frown plastered on his face as his plan to avoid Allison is not going as well as he hoped.

Fallon shoots Scott a sympathetic smile before reaching in her backpack to bring out last night's homework assignment. It wasn’t anything too difficult. Just a few pages of reading and a couple of questions to help summarize the important parts.

The bell rings loudly, indicating the start of the period. Coach turns to start writing about today’s topic of discussion on the board. She watches out of her peripherals as Allison leans forward in her desk to get closer to Scott. The boy tenses, sensing her growing closer in proximity. Allison doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension as she goes to talk to him.

“Hey,” she smiles happily. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Scott barely looks back, “Uh, yeah. I’ve been, uh, super busy,” he looks at Stiles and Fallon for help.

His two friends shrug at his misfortune, Fallon sinking further into her chair to avoid watching this train wreck go down. Scott has a look of momentary desperation until he has to cover it up when Allison grows closer. “When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

Yikes. Fallon’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles.

She sneakily pulls it out, hiding it underneath her desk to respond. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed for her or for him.

She’s clueless and he’s awkward. Why can’t it be both?

True. She giggles at his reply. I feel bad. They’re both happy when they’re together. Sucks that they can’t be.

I mean, we don’t know that yet. Stiles counters.

He said she makes him weak. She reminds him.

Once he learns how to control it, it’ll be fine. He reassures her. We just gotta show him that he won’t hurt her. Or anyone else.

Yeah, ‘cause this gross couple-ey mutual pining crap is starting to get on my nerves. She rolls her eyes as Allison tells Scott she switched her lab partner to him. She loves them both together, she really does. But Fallon’s hopeless romanticism stops in the fictional worlds she reads about.

You’re such a romantic. Stiles smirks at her with sarcasm written on his face. It really is a shock that you’re still single.

Ditto.

Stiles kicks the back of her chair and she leans her head back, looking at him upside down. She smiles innocently, booping his nose before sitting upright again. He scoffs lowly, crossing his arms as he tries to act offended by her response.

A book slamming on a desk pulls everyone’s attention to the front. Coach Finstock has a menacing look on his face as he analyzes the class, “Let’s settle down,” he commands. “Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” Only one individual raises their hand, causing Coach to roll his eyes. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading,” he dismisses the boy, more annoyed now than he was before class. “How about, uh…” Everyone avoids eye contact with their teacher like the plague, trying to avoid being the one he calls on. “McCall!”

Scott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, “What?”

Coach moves to sit on his desk, the tension within the small classroom slowly growing. “The reading.”

Scott shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “… Last night's reading?” He wonders, seemingly trying to stall so he doesn’t have to do it.

Coach grows irritated with the question, starting to realize that Scott didn’t do the assignment, “H-How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?” He suggests sardonically making the rest of the class laugh. Fallon wiggles her own between her fingers nervously. Coach making fun of him like this is going to make him shift in front of everyone.

Scott looks even more confused, “What?”

“That’s sarcasm,” Coach reveals with a tilt of his head. “You familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?”

He slowly turns to the two friends on his right, “Very,” he answers. Fallon simply glares at him while Stiles smiles proudly, patting Fallon’s back like it’s a team effort. Which, most of the time it is.

Coach huffs, looking at him expectantly, “Did you do the reading, or not?”

The boy plays with the pages of the book in front of him, his embarrassment increasing. “Um, I think I forgot…”

“Nice work, McCall,” his teacher praises fakely. “It’s not like you’re not averaging a D in this class.” He leans forward on Scott’s desk, his anger being replaced by concern. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a D.”

Fallon’s attention is stolen when she hears the familiar beeping of Coach’s phone tracking the heart monitor. She pulls it out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees Scott’s pulse rising. Stiles leans forward, watching along with her as the numbers start to increase with everything Coach says.

“How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” He suggests. 98. 99. 100.

Scott silently shakes his head, hoping that he somehow finds a supernatural way to turn invisible. “No?” Finstock mocks. “How about, the uh, the night before that?” Scott fiddles with his fingers as he avoids eye contact. 122. 123. 124. “How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read in your entire life?!” 135. 136. 137.

“I-I… uh–”

“No? A blog?” Coach asks, looking for any sort of hope that Scott’s done something. “How about, uh, h-how about, uh, the back of a cereal box?” Scott tries to hide his face behind his hand as their teacher continues grilling him. Fallon is now bouncing her leg up and down, hoping that Scott gets some sort of reprieve from this. “No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach gives up and goes to retreat back to his desk. “Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank. You. McCall.” He emphasizes with a slap to his desk. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” 159. 160. 161.

Fallon looks at Scott, trying to comfort him with a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t notice. His face simply grows redder and redder and his chest heaves up and down with angry breaths. “You just blew it for everybody,” Coach continues. “Thanks. Next practice, you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Suddenly the monitor stops beeping as rapidly. Fallon glances at it surprised as she watches his heart rate start to go down. Despite all the laughter and snickers from their classmates, it’s actually going down. Fallon and Stiles visibly relax and when they look over to their friend, they see his arm reaching backwards. Allison is holding his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb across the top of it comfortingly. Fallon tilts her head. Maybe Scott was right in a way. Allison is his weakness, but in a way that gives him control. She keeps his anger at bay, keeps him grounded.

When the bell rings, they all could not be happier to get out of there. Scott still looks a bit mortified after everything that happened. Stiles once again grabs Fallon’s bag, carrying it on his shoulder. Allison bids her goodbyes to Scott, heading in the opposite direction the trio is. As soon as they are sure she’s out of ear shot, Fallon smacks his arm, “Dude, it’s her.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, confused by the random statement.

“It’s Allison,” Fallon elaborates while Stiles nods along.

“Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?” He brings up. “You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay…” Scott says, still not understanding what they’re getting at.

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field,” Stiles adds, trying to see if he can put it together.

Scott nods with a small smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that's what brought you back so you could pass the ball and we could score,” Fallon finishes explaining. “And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her– at least, not like how you were trying to kill us.” Scott frowns, sending her a pointed look. Fallon huffs, “She’s like your anchor is what I’m saying. She brings you back. No need to get your werewolf panties in a bunch.”

Scott shakes his head at her statement, “No, no, no. But it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her, or-or touching her–”

Fallon’s nose scrunched up in disgust as Stiles cuts him off, “No, that’s not the same. When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y’know?”

“I really do not want to be having this conversation with you two,” Fallon grumbles uncomfortably, especially when she notices the smirk on Scott’s face. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t ever give me any details on anything you guys do, okay?” Fallon says before shaking off her disgust. “Anyway, back in the classroom when she held your hand, that was different. She may be your weakness per say, but not in the way you originally thought. I think she actually gives you control. You might go feral if she gets hurt, but that’s besides the point. She’s what actually keeps you human.”

“You mean because I love her?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods.

Fallon’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden admission. She wasn’t expecting Scott to just randomly admit that out loud. He apparently wasn’t expecting himself to say it either, “Did I just say that?” He asks them.

“Yeah,” Fallon smiles softly. “You did.”

Scott gets even more giddy than he already was, readjusting his straps as he continues to profess his love. “I love her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes impatiently, “That’s great! Now moving on–”

“No, no, no, really– I think I’m totally in love with her,” he insists.

“And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?” Stiles gesticulates over dramatically. “Because you obviously can't be around her all the time.”

Scott snaps back, refocusing on the task at hand. He nods, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Sorry. So, what do I do?”

“We don’t know,” the boy huffs, pausing for a moment. “Yet.”

Scott looks at him alarmed, “Oh, no. You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Stiles smirks.

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fallon nods, not knowing the specifics of the plan, but knowing Stiles well enough that it’s going to entail some more revenge.

Scott groans, “Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

Stiles nods rapidly, “Yeah, definitely. Come on.”

Fallon crutches along behind the two boys, furrowing her eyebrows as they head out to the parking lot. Stiles looks back at her and she tilts her head, silently asking what his plan is. The boy simply shakes his head, mouthing “just wait.”

Scott looks just as lost as Fallon, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles looks into the distance as if he’s checking something before turning around to instruct Scott. “Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott pulls them out to show him. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up like so,” he demonstrates, lazily holding his arm up in the air. “Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?”

“Okay…”

“Fallon, my partner in crime, come stand with me please,” Stiles requests and she moves over to him. “Just keep holding it right there…” He summons Fallon to follow him as he sneakily walks over to the black truck behind them. She narrows her eyes as she watches him pull out his own keys. Her jaw drops as Stiles nonchalantly keys the truck before sliding his keys back into his pocket. He taps her shoulder, telling her to call attention to it.

Fallon looks at Scott who’s silently begging her not to do what Stiles is saying. She glances back at Stiles who is just nodding menacingly. “Do it,” he whispers.

She sighs, sending Scott an apologetic look, “Dude! What the hell do you think you're doing to that truck?!” She yells fakely. Stiles has to hold back the mini celebration he wants to have as the owner of said truck turns around.

“What the hell?!” The student yells, approaching Scott who nervously fumbles with his keys. He tries to shake his head, saying it wasn’t him who did it, but the other student clearly isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God!” Fallon shouts, flinching backwards as the guy socks Scott in the face without hesitation.

Stiles grips onto her as Scott tries to fight the guy back, but he’s over powered when the other student’s friends decide to join in. Scott is thrown to the floor, giving the others the upper hand as they drag him backwards. They continue hitting him in the face and kicking his abdomen. Fallon hears the phone beeping once more and she sends Stiles a glare.

“This was your brilliant idea?” She snaps.

“If he just thinks of Allison, it should work!” He defends. His eyes travel back to Scott as Fallon pulls out the phone. His heart rate is spiking once again. “Ahh,” he taps his foot nervously. “Come on. Stay calm. Stay calm.”

Fallon looks over her shoulder, “Is there really no one here to stop this? No teachers? Nothing?” She asks with a scoff.

“Oh, that's not okay.” Stiles winces. 129. 130. 131. “Scott, come on, buddy…”

Fallon feels the need to interfere, but the way Stiles is clutching onto her prevents her from going anywhere. She holds her breath, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She knows Scott will heal from all of this, but it’s still hard for her to watch him get beat up like this.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Harris comes barreling through, barking at the assailants to stop. The brunette girl never thought she would be grateful to see Mr. Harris, but she stands corrected. The other boys run off, leaving Scott on the floor with a bloodied up nose and a decent amount of bruising. Something probably broke, but isn’t visible due to his supernatural healing.

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Harris asks harshly, glaring down at Scott through his glasses.

None of them could even bother responding to his insult, the only thing they’re focused on is the fact Scott managed to control his rage. Stiles and Fallon smile at each other.

“He did it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Detention.

Fallon should’ve assumed that this is where they were going to end up after Mr. Harris caught them outside. She just wished she brought something more entertaining to school today so she could occupy her mind while being stuck here. She has a chair pulled up at the end of Scott and Stiles’ table. The three of them sitting rather dejectedly even though they technically just succeeded in teaching Scott control.

The brunette girl sketches in her notebook, drawing the Beacon Hills woods from memory. Stiles watches her interestedly, leaning forward to look at her work. He tries not to move too far forward as her broken leg rests on his lap for some form of elevation.

“That's really good,” he compliments.

She smiles, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a scoff, like she’s stupid for even asking such a question. “Like I would frame that. Y’know, if I had the money to buy a frame… How about I hang it on my fridge?”

Fallon laughs softly, ripping the page out and handing it to him. “Do what makes you happy.”

He grins, carefully putting the drawing in his backpack. The two of them look at Scott who shifts around in his seat. He’s antsy to get out of here. After a moment, he finally speaks to Mr. Harris, “Excuse me, sir?” He gets their teacher’s attention. “Uh, I know it’s detention and all, but, uh… I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Despite Scott’s polite request, Mr. Harris just grins fakely at the boy, looking back down at the paper he is grading. Fallon shakes her head annoyed. She didn’t understand how someone who hates kids could choose a profession where they sit with them all day.

Scott tries to go back to working on his homework, but can’t stop himself from talking to his friends on the other side of him. “You knew I would heal,” he says, with an almost impressed tone of voice.

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “We both did.”

“So you did that to help me learn?”

“Yep,” he repeats, rubbing his hands together.

“…But partially to punish me.”

“Thought that one was obvious,” Fallon mutters, hitting her pen on the desk to a steady rhythm.

Scott sighs, looking at them sadly, “Guys, you’re my best friends,” he says, regret etched in his eyes. “And I can’t have you both being angry with me.”

Both her and Stiles pause for a moment. Fallon sucks in a deep breath, looking at Scott sincerely, “We’re not angry at you anymore.”

Stiles turns to him, “Look. You have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore– it means you have to do something.”

Scott nods his head, really taking in Stiles’ words. “I know,” he agrees. “And I will.”

“Just next time a car comes barreling at me and Allison, try to give me a five second warning so I can at least try to save myself,” Fallon says lightheartedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Scott shakes his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

Fallon smiles toothlessly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Stiles places his on top of theirs, all of them coming to a truce. Mr. Harris watches from afar, his frozen heart slightly touched by the display. He rolls his eyes, “All right, all three of you– out of here,” he gestures towards the door with his head.

The three of them look at him with wide eyes, but nonetheless stand up and start collecting their stuff. For once the boys allow Fallon to carry her own backpack. She wings it over her shoulder and adjusts herself on her crutches before following after them.

“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Harris calls out. She internally screams, not wanting to speak to him more than she has to, especially after what her father said to him on parent-teacher conference night.

She turns, “Yes sir?”

“I hope this shows that I do not hate you, Mr. McCall, or Mr. Stilinski. I meant what I said. I see a potential in you that I… struggle to see within them. Or at least I did,” he concedes. “But if I keep witnessing displays like that,” he refers to their conversation, “then perhaps I can admit where I was wrong. They aren’t all bad.”

Fallon shuffles awkwardly, not knowing how to react to him being kind. “Thank you?” She says it more as a question than statement.

Mr. Harris nods, “And I hope your leg gets better. I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

“Yeah…” she nods. “I’m all right though.”

“Well, have a good rest of your day,” he says, suddenly reverting back to his cold demeanor as he looks back down at the worksheets in front of him.

She sighs, heading back towards the door, “You too.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon didn’t even get a chance to get dropped off by Stiles before Scott called them, explaining that Derek showed up to the animal clinic and attacked Deaton. The older werewolf thinks that Scott’s boss may be the Alpha. Hearing that made the girl's blood run cold. She’s spoken to Deaton a couple of times and she never would have guessed him to be the murderous werewolf they’ve been looking for.

Scott requested them to come pick him up because he told Derek to meet them at the school. So Stiles and Fallon did a quick pit stop at his house to grab supplies they’ll need to break into the school and then they quickly go pick up their friend. When the arrive, Scott picks up Fallon, helping her out of the jeep.

They move to the trunk, Stiles glancing around worriedly, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott admits.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “But we’re still gonna do it…?” She asks incredulously.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott questions a bit harshly.

Stiles shrugs, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away…”

Scott gives him a deadpan look, “Just make sure we can get inside.”

The headlights from Derek’s Camaro practically blind Fallon as he pulls up. She glances down at her watch. Ten-thirty. She hopes her dad believed her when she said she’d be sleeping over at Stiles’. Noah and him are working the overnight shift so as long as they choose to believe her and Stiles, they should be okay.

“He’s here,” she mumbles to Scott and Stiles.

Scott’s the first one to approach Derek as he smoothly slides out of the driver’s seat. Fallon crutches behind Scott, peeking out from behind his shoulder to look at Derek. “Where’s my boss?” Scott demands darkly.

“He’s in the back,” Derek replies shortly, nodding to the back window of his car.

Fallon glances through the window seeing Deaton tied up and knocked out. She feels bad for the man, even if he is the Alpha, there is no way he's waking up without a creak in his neck. Stiles scoffs, “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” he comments sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, his suspect’s comfortability not a concern to him in the slightest. Stiles shakes his head in annoyance before waving at Scott to follow him towards the school. Fallon decided to stay outside as she didn’t feel like moving super far with her crutches if she didn’t have to. They tend to dig into her armpits when she walks around excessively. She removes them from under her arms and leans against the Camaro, figuring Derek wouldn’t mind.

“Wait–” Derek calls out, confused as to what they're doing. “Hey. What are you doing?”

Scott turns around, “You said I was linked with the Alpha– I’m gonna see if you’re right,” he replies before finishing his journey to the entrance of the school.

Fallon glances into the window and frowns when she looks at Deaton. She still can’t even fathom that he could be the Alpha. He’s so kind, gentle even. He takes care of animals, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.

Derek eyes her for a moment before slowly inching closer to her. He points to her leg, “How are you feeling?” His voice was low, gruff—almost like he was forcing himself to ask.

She looks up at him with a shrug, “Okay, I guess. Just a little sore. It’s also really hard to scratch when I have an itch,” she admits. “Not that you needed to know that last part.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, hands buried in his pockets. “Friends can share those details, can’t they?” He lifts an eyebrow, leaning against the car alongside her.

Fallon smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess they can.”

“Have you been taking your pain medication?” He questions curiously.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Actually… I may have forgotten tonight,” she says thoughtfully. “I left my backpack at Stiles’ house. Haven’t exactly had a minute of downtime today to think about it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she couldn’t help the slight edge of frustration that crept in. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, this...weak.

He glowers at her for a moment, “You better take it when you get back there,” he says strictly. “If you’re in pain, it’s only going to slow you down.”

She met his gaze, surprised at the concern lacing his words. It wasn’t like Derek to show he cared—at least, not openly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere fast, Hale.”

Derek huffed, almost like he was amused. Almost. “Good. Because if you do, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. “Are you offering to catch me if I do?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers for a beat too long. “You wouldn’t need to be caught if you were more careful,” he said finally, his tone firm but lacking its usual bite.

Fallon let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really bad at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Derek replied, his eyes flicking back to the school. But his posture had softened just a fraction, his stance less rigid than before.

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the night surrounding them. Fallon shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on her leg. “So what exactly was your original plan when you were gonna pick up Scott?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, “Teach him control,” he answers.

“Okay, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “But how?”

“Test him. See what he can handle. Try to help him find a way to ground himself,” he explains briefly. “And if he couldn’t figure it out…”

“Then you’d step in,” she finishes for him. She looks at him, “Would you hurt him?” She wonders softly. “Y’know… if he couldn’t do it.”

He glances at her again, his expression softening just a touch. “If he puts anyone else at risk, yes.”

She nods, appreciating his straightforwardness. It was something she’d come to value in Derek, even if he was rough around the edges. “I can handle myself, you know. A broken leg isn’t going to stop me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her leg before meeting hers again. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected. Fallon felt her chest tighten, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her. But instead of feeling stifled, she felt… understood.

“Thanks, Derek,” she says quietly, her voice sincere.

He gave a short nod, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before turning back to the school. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” he muttered, the gruffness back in his voice.

Fallon smiled to herself, leaning back against the car. “No promises.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere the wimpiest howl Fallon has ever heard echoes over the PA system. Her jaw drops as she fights off the urge to laugh. She couldn’t even think of what to classify that as. It sounded like a cat having gas pains.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek winces as if listening to that was physically painful. Truthfully, it was. She normally tries to be an encouraging person, but that was awful. She’s pretty sure her ears would have bled if it had gone on any longer. She silently hopes that Stiles finds some way to inspire Scott to dig deep. Because at this rate, there’s no way the Alpha is coming.

When the second howl comes through, it actually makes the girl jump. This one is deep and powerful. It manages to cause the building to shake, making the doors vibrate with a loud jangle. A surge of fear fills Fallon’s veins as she realizes that this is it. There’s no way the Alpha could ignore that. She’ll have to face him again. Derek can sense the sudden shift in her demeanor. He can smell the chemo signals radiating off of her. Her face remains still, but her insides are twisting in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Derek gets her attention. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassures.

She nods, not having the ability to come up with a more witty response. She tries to shake off the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, but it continues to linger over her. Eventually Scott and Stiles make it out of the school, meeting a very pissed off Derek and a concerned Fallon. “I’m gonna kill both of you,” the elder of them threatens furiously. “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott tries to apologize genuinely, but anyone can see how proud of himself he is. “Sorry… I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scoffs excitedly, “it was loud… And it was awesome…” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

Fallon can’t help but smirk, pushing her growing worries aside. “Gotta admit Scotty, that was impressive.” She stiffens when noticing Derek’s glare, “I mean– not impressive. Not impressive at all,” she clears her throat awkwardly.

Derek looks at her incredulously, “Shut up.”

Her lips form a tight-line. So much for the moment they just shared. Stiles narrows his eyes, “Don’t be such a sour-wolf,” he mocks, pulling Fallon closer to him and Scott. She stumbles slightly, trying to get ahold of her crutches.

“Could you be a bit gentler, please?” She scoffs.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks snippily, pointing to Derek’s car which is now open.

“What?” The man’s eyes widen as he turns around. He looks baffled as he sees the backseat is empty. The nervous feeling fills Fallon’s gut again. Deaton was knocked out cold. There’s no way he could just get up and walk out without at least one of them hearing him. “I didn’t do anything,” he tells them.

“He didn’t,” Fallon confirms. “We’ve been talking the whole time.”

However, nothing else can be said as hot blood spurts out of Derek’s mouth and onto Fallon’s face. She stumbles back in shock before screaming loudly. Derek is being lifted in the air, claws belonging to the Alpha ripping straight through his back. His green eyes are wide as he chokes on his own bodily fluids.

Fallon tries to tell herself to move, but her body won’t listen. Staring into the bright red eyes of the creature that invaded her space, who made her feel unsafe, rendered her paralyzed. She can’t even blink as she watches the Alpha chuck Derek across the parking lot into the wall of the school. His body hits the ground with a loud crash. She makes eye contact with the monster as Scott and Stiles pick her up, carrying her into the school. She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Again, the expression it wears is almost mocking. Like it’s silently telling her she’s existing on borrowed time.

She’s only brought back to earth when the doors to the school slam shut, both of the boys setting her on the ground before holding the doors closed. Her eyes still look distant, disturbed. Scott and Stiles share a concerned look, not just for their situation but for their friend who is once again covered in Derek’s blood.