Alan Deaton - Tumblr Posts

Teen Wolf: The Movie released in 2023 should NOT exist and is an ABSOLUTE ATROCITY. Here’s why:

Not only was it absolute bullshit that Jeff Davis killed Derek the same way his family was killed, by burning him alive! But he also had Derek’s 15 year old son WATCH him die. JUST LIKE how Derek watched his family die from a fire when HE was 15!

Where the hell is Stiles, a key character to the series? So major of a character that when he didn’t appear in the beginning of season 6 of the original series, views decreased SIGNIFICANTLY. And when he returned in season 6 episode 11 (with Derek, might I add), views SKYROCKETED like crazy.

A majority of the movies plot points don’t line up with the original show. For example: Chris Argent and Isaac Lahey took the jar containing the Nogitsune with them when they went to France. So why is it on a shelf, let me repeat: a GOD DAMN SHELF, in Japan?! Another thing is that in the original show Derek (as an alpha) was able to survive a wolfsbane bullet wound for almost, if not, 24 hours. While in the movie Chris says Scott (also an alpha) only has a few hours to survive before the poison kills him.

Stiles would never abandon not only his Jeep, as stated in season 4 episode 1: The Dark Moon, but ALSO Scott and Lydia, his two best friends.

There’s so many other things that just don’t line up but it would take way too long to explain and that’s not the reason I’m posting this. The reason for this post is up next. So moving on…

Since Jeff Davis HAS decided to give us this movie with its OUTRAGEOUS plot line and BULLSHIT ending (no offense to Davis entirely, he did very good on the original series but he honestly should have left it there), I have decided (as I’m sure others have as well) that there needs to be a sequel to fix it. Here’s some of the things I think need to happen in said hypothetical and much needed sequel:

Eli’s the main character (not Scott McAsshole) and we learn who his other biological parent is (most likely Kate because even if everyone hates it, it would serve as a very interesting plot).

Stiles comes back because the show is absolute SHIT without him. AND he’s pissed about Scott & the pack not calling him for his help, resulting in Derek being DEAD! He’s also mad at Scott because he, an ALPHA, allowed one of his betas to SACRIFICE himself. In front of his KID no less! The TRAUMA the poor pup will have now. (Can’t there be ONE Hale generation that DOESN’T have life altering trauma and hogwash happen to them!)

Isaac should also return so we can see his reaction to Allison being resurrected and Derek being dead. His reaction is so important to me because when Allison died they were dating and Derek was his original alpha & took him in after his dad died.

In fact, since we’re bringing Stiles and Isaac back, let’s bring EVERYONE that was still alive at the end of the original series and were still part of the pack (or once was) back. Let’s have them make a major debut for an amazing kick ass battle against some new big bad. (Possibly “Captain America: Civil War” style. ✨SCOTT vs STILES✨ …That’s actually not a bad idea. I’ll post about that next, but first we got to continue with what else needs to happen.)

Derek isn’t ACTUALLY dead! Yay! He should be in bardo because 1: he’s a stubborn, self sacrificing pain in the ass who has been wronged in SO many ways. And 2: he has realized his mistake of sacrificing himself (while needed in the movie, it could have easily been prevented if Stiles was there) causing him to leave his son and outright REFUSES to fully die. PLUS, right before Derek died we saw his eyes turn RED, meaning that he is now a True Alpha. That changes a LOT of things! I don’t care if there’s no body and he can’t logically return to this plane of existence physically. He’s in bardo. Plain and simple. The show has already broken so many perceived supernatural rules, what’s one more?

Stiles has ✨magic✨ (as hinted on by Deaton saying he has a Spark MULTIPLE times throughout the series) and brings Derek back from being almost-dead-but-not-quite-dead.

And finally, what a MAJORITY of Teen Wolf fans (myself included 😌) have been waiting for *drumroll*: STEREK!!! FINALLY it happens! *jazz hands*

BOOM! DONE! STORY FIXED! Your welcome!

Feel free to comment what you think is wrong with the movie and what should be added to the hypothetical & desperately needed sequel.

Until next time…

~Peace,

Genesis. ✌️

Deaton was a man with a wealth of knowledge and a intriguingly phenomenal person who wasn't just a druid and a veterinarian, but also a mentor and father figure to Scott. He made me interested in him the moment he saved and aided Scott in season 1 without asking any questions of how he received critical injuries

I have this teen wolf headcanon that the reason Deaton started teaching Scott all this veterinary stuff that was far too advanced for a teenager working part time was because he thought Scott would make a good emissary in the future and so he was going to eventually introduce him to the world of the supernatural and train him to be one.

Alan Deaton could have easily left Scott to die out there in the preserve from his wounds. But he didn't. He rescued and saved him. Alan Deaton could have given Scott up to Peter without a care in the world. But he didn't. He protected Scott from a menacing rogue alpha, standing firm and unafraid. Alan Deaton could have not gotten involved in the Kanima incident and let Scott and his friends plus Derek and his pack to suffer. But he didn't. He risked his position as a veterinarian to give them a powerful sedative to help save Jackson. Alan Deaton could have not help Derek to his feet and let him suffer from Peter manipulations after he was resurrected and after what Derek did to him in Season 1. But he didn't. He chose to help Derek and told him information he needed to know to plan ahead because he made a promise to Derek's mother of protecting him. Alan Deaton could have let Scott's mother, Allison's father, and Stiles's father be sacrificed to Jennifer Blake which would have made her unstoppable and cause terror upon Beacon Hills. But he didn't. He chose to save the parents at having the trio commit a ritual to pose as ritual sacrifices to help find the Nemeton and not once did Deaton fall back from it and aided them despite warning them of the morbid consequences of committing this surrogate sacrifice.

Alan Deaton could have let the Nogitsune possess Stiles to the point his soul could have not been returned and cause chaos before letting the Nogitsune kill everyone in Beacon Hills. BUT HE DIDN'T. He literally traveled to Tokyo, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET, to acquire lichen to help save Stiles while subduing the Nogitsune to give them time to free Stiles of the demonic fox.

Tell me...how is Alan Deaton shady and aggressive to everyone? How is he selfish and only cares for Scott's benefit?

He does not. He is careful, informative, and supportive to Scott and the pack. He is a mentor and father figure to Scott. He was willing to put his life on the line to a Yakuza in Japan to get the poison plant to sedate the Nogitsune. He was risking his career to acquire ketamine. He risked his life to see Dr. Valek to have himself go into a chronostasis slumber to find out Scott's and Kira's whereabouts to rescue them before Lydia helps wake him up to relay the information to the pack.

How is Alan Deaton shady and callous?

Another thing I don’t like about the way fandom treats Alan Deaton is that they always portray him to have a cold sternness or aggression in their fics especially when Stiles is involved. It’s as if his personality is the equivalent of the high school teacher Mr. Harris.

The fact that this ship (Melissa McCall/Alan Deaton) is low in the number of works is criminal and I see the racist undertones when it comes to pairing a POC with another POC. I don't mind seeing Melissa and Alan paired because it would give a different perspective and a healthier relationship, especially with Scott being under Alan's wing.

LEMME GET THIS OFF MY CHEST!

Out of the 5 men shipped with Melissa McCall! ONLY ONE OF THEM has not wronged her son at some point during the entirety of the series! Can you guess who I’m talking about!?

The Wings Of An Enigmatic

HELLO MY WONDERFUL SUBJECTS READERS!!! I am extremely sorry for the delay of this story, but life has had me on a grip and I have been going through ups and downs recently, as well as utilizing my career more. But pas d'inquietude! I have returned. (Plus I am learning French before I plan to go to Paris). Here is Chapter 5 of the The Wings Of An Enigmatic and this is the longest chapter I have written so far for this season. Expect some surprises.

Notification tags: @rhyslahey, @thiamsxbitch, @unsanedes, @mmoosen, @phantomraeken, @isaac-not-isaac

If you would like to get notifications regarding this series for each chapter, comment below so I can add you in.

Chapter 5: Mistakes Are Learned

"-Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

"-Since when you became Einstein?"

"-Since when were you so interested of my input on the matter? I presumed humans were nescient."

---------------------------------------

(Flashback - 10 years ago…)

Shouts and chatters of kids in the colorful classroom felt a tad bit intimidating. The lemon and oak scent permeated the classroom, filling his nostrils while the sun illuminated the room. Despite him being ironically the tallest 6-year-old in the 1st Grade, seeing so many of them playing, coloring a crayon book, being rowdy with each other as sneakers and chairs squeaked on the waxed tiled floors made little Isaac feel smaller. The only reassurance is that he sees Matt drawing a picture and absentmindly talking with someone…another kid with light sunkissed skin, who was creating a vertically shaped masterpiece of Lego blocks, vividly styled as a building to have foundation and support. The kid beside the intricate puzzles of blocks was someone that Matt became friends with this weekend. 

Isaac takes a closer look at the kid and he notices how orderly and noble the kid is acting. With combed hair, tailored white long sleeve button down shirt, followed by black dress shorts, white ribbed calf socks, and black loafers. He looked like a kid who was a genius combined with the flair and fashion sense of a 1940’s child. A rich kid in basic terms. 

“Isaac! Hey Isaac!” The excited tone of Matt reached his hears, standing up abruptly to see him. “Come quick, there’s someone you gotta meet!” The little grubby hands grabs Isaac’s much softer ones, dragging him forward towards the genius-like child. “Isaac, meet my new friend, Seraph. Seraph, this is Isaac, my best friend since daycare!” Matt’s cheerful declaration did not solve the newfound nervousness Isaac developed as the kid, Seraph, stares at him with gray eyes. Gray eyes that held mystery in them, that looked cold and aloof, that could literally scare a kid and have them scram immediately. Yet the innocence in them was visible and they were shining with curiosity, how did Matt become friends with this one?

The ambient noise of mindless chatter and cheers from the other kids served as the contrasting backdrop. It highlighted the uncomfortable silence between Isaac and this debonair kid, a pin drop could have resonated loudly between them. Seraph’s eyes seemingly judging him, eyeing him like he was an experiment that needed to be tested. Seraph lets out a small puff of air, and then he parts his lips.

“So you’re the best friend that Matthew here excitedly chatted about and wanted me to meet? I do find your bravery and choice of friends admirable and intriguing.” The professional and intelligent tone of the boy was unbelievable. How did this kid talk like that? No, why did this kid talk like that? He is speaking as if he were a full-sized adult, it baffled and spooked Isaac. “Do not be afraid. I also wanted to meet you as well and request if I can be your friend too. Can I…Isaac?” 

Despite Seraph’s confident tone, he senses a slight uncertainty at the end of his question, along with the innocence lacing the child’s voice, as if Seraph felt like he was scaring him away. He wasn’t scaring him, in fact he was captivated by the way Seraph was talking and…whatever Seraph was building, which looks like a three-dimensional construction of a building that is entirely made out of lego. Not a single impairment within the foundation. The reassurance of his words ‘do not be afraid’ allowed Isaac to drop down his emotional walls to get to know this new person.

“I am sorry, but if I am scaring you Isaac, then I understand if you do not wish for me to be your friend-”

“Wait, Seraph-”

“Um no! No y-you aren’t scaring me…it’s just that Matt here is the only friend I really talk to…” Isaac trails off in shyness, kicking his feet on the tiled floor. “I don’t really talk to the other kids in this class.”

“I see,” Seraph hums, pausing at the playful atmosphere before him. His eyes scatter to see the different kids that are of their ages, playing with toys, stuffed animals, etc. Isaac felt that Seraph was different. He saw that Seraph was different, by the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way those gray eyes observed the room like a hawk. He was very perceptive and for someone who is 6 years old, already advanced and ahead of himself, Matt and the rest of the class. “I suppose we find ourselves in similar circumstances, both not forging connections with our peers or engaging in social interactions within our class, excluding Matt of course.”

The unexpected combination of this kid’s appearance coupled with the swift and adult-like articulation of his words left Isaac puzzled. Just what kind of 1st Grader talks like that? It did make Isaac more interested in the well-dressed child who now has his hands folded neatly on his desk surveying the scene before him.

“Yeah Zac, um Seraph talks like that alot and while it does sound weird, this is his way of talking to other people. He always says “do not be afraid” too.” Matt butts in, his face contorting an odd expression. The privileged youngster tilts his head in confusion. 

“It’s the way I present myself and communicate. Is there something wrong with my wording and how I converse?” Seraph asks, and despite how sharp and voidless his gray eyes were perceived to be, Isaac could see hints of nervousness in those orbs. The dapper boy looked composed and concealed with a flair of affluence and suave, yet he could sense just how odd and out of place Seraph felt, just like Isaac. 

“My name’s Isaac, which Matt already told you but just in case y-you forgot. Nice to meet you, and I wanna become friends with you too.” Isaac holds out his hand for a shake, a dopey smile on his lips. Seraph looks at the hand, then up to Isaac’s face, before eyeing his hand again. Then he glances back up and suddenly there is a sight to behold in front of him. To Isaac at first, he thought kids like Seraph would never laugh and smile due to their aloofness and callous nature. But Seraph’s faint smile is an anomaly Isaac witnesses, but the most peculiar thing was how bright Seraph’s eyes seem to be from this. He could have also sworn he saw the child’s eyes give out a violet hue within them before shifting back to gray, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe that was the sun’s reflection in the room and it had a mirage effect on his eyes. Seraph shakes the former’s hand with that faint smile being replayed over and over. 

“Seraph Kingfisher. Even though by now, Matthew here must have relayed to you my legal entity already but I am merely letting you know who I am at your request of friendship and getting to know you. After all, you and I are alike when it involves anti-social tendencies.” Seraph explains too much for Isaac’s brain to process. 

“You forgot about me being here, too.” 

“My apologies, and let’s not forget Matthew. In this particular sense, you serve as the bridge to our new friendship and the expansion of a broader, diplomatic relationship to me and Isaac’s emerging friendship, contributing to your more social disposition.” Seraph replies to Matt’s jest.

“Sometimes I wonder how you talk like that.”

“My parents raised me with class and manners. It’s proper etiquette, and a sense of code for respect and to treat others the way you want to be treated.” Isaac could only stare at how dutiful and respectful Seraph is with the intelligent and proper language he spoke with the inclusion of professional body language. Seraph was like a walking book of knowledge. 

“Is something amiss, Isaac? You seem quite parched and dazed.” Seraph’s straightforward question startles the young curly haired boy.

“Oh no—it’s nothing. It’s just…I am kind of happy you don’t see me as a kid who is a little taller than most of the kids here. And…I am happy we’re friends now.” Isaac stammers out, gaining confidence at the end of his sentence.

“So am I Isaac, and no there is nothing wrong with you being a tall 6-year-old. To me, I concur that you have been born with blessed genes that make you an able body person.” Seraph compliments, gazing at him softly. “While Matt here is artistic and sociable. An ambivert with a curious and thoughtful personality.”

That compliment made Matt shuffle his feet, a sight Isaac only sees when Matt gets shy or embarrassed. “Um thank you, Seraph.”

Isaac returns his gaze back to the affluent elementary kid, who is now switching the Lego between the hand constructed building. There was something about Seraph that made him admiring and cool to look at. Was it how he was dressed? His posture? How he was easily able to build a Lego building in real world detail? The way he was speaking to him? He didn’t know, nor could he make an accurate decision on what he felt, but all he did know was that he didn’t want to separate from Seraph. He wanted to be best friends with Seraph just like he’s best friends with Matt. Because he can see just how different Seraph was from the others. 

Pursing his lips together, Isaac sits beside Seraph. “Can I…play with the Lego? Help you build this building?” His voice comes out soft and shy, despite having just become friends with him 5 minutes ago. 

The boy in question glances at Isaac, his gray eyes boring into Isaac’s blue ones, with a gentle gaze that held a touch of bewilderment, contrasting how sharp and cutthroat they looked. It suddenly dawned on him that he might be treading on delicate grounds, the perplexed expression from Seraph signaling a possible misstep in their evolving rapport.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have asked if you wanted to play with me if you wanted to play-”

“No,” The interjection of Seraph cuts off his next words, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never had anyone inquire or offer to build something with me, and that is the reason.”

He nods at the former’s response slowly, before his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Not even Matt? I mean I know he likes to draw but he’s friendly to ask.” He points to their friend who shrugs.

“I am not really good with Legos, or building something huge like Seraph’s building here.” It’s Matt’s response that Isaac hears. He hears the other kid shuffle in their seat. “Perhaps I can teach you, Matt.”

Seraph speaks to the aforementioned boy who glances back. “I can even help teach you as well Isaac so that you can be able to build impressive toy architects such as this example.” The other two boys look at Seraph in awe, as if they have just seen a video game on the window-sill and as if it’s calling their names to purchase it.

“Sure, I wanna learn how to build!”

“Um, I guess so…I mean will it be hard to build it because…” The shy boy trails off looking at Seraph’s design, “mines ain't gonna come out like yours.”

“That is the exact reason why I stated I will teach you how to build a complete lego set.” Seraph sends him a wry grin, snickering while finding Isaac’s boldness entertaining. Isaac’s cheeks flush in embarrassment at his words.

“There is a saying: practice makes perfect. Hence, I will be helping you, so you can learn and master how to build a three-dimensional building, such as my design concept.” The intellectual words, followed by a formal tone of proper punctuation echoes to both Isaac and Matt. Well more Isaac. He sees just how amazing his new friend is, even wanting to teach him how to build a set of blocks just for fun. 

Three 6 year-olds in their own world, learning from their new friend on how to build an actual building out of legos. To everyone else, they were just playing blocks. But to Isaac, it was a new friendship, a bond that felt warm, contrasting the icy gray eyes of his new friend. He was never good at making friends honestly speaking, his introverted personality made things difficult since he was in daycare with Matt, who became his first friend out of sheer courage. 

But Seraph…he was different. Different than any kid in the 1st grade, and it wasn’t because of how he dressed, it’s how quiet but observant he was, how smart yet proper he was, how intimidating yet soft he was, and he could have easily said no to him for playing. But…he didn’t, he even surprised Isaac by saying he never had anyone asked him to play with him or build with him before, and to many other kids in their classroom he looked frightening because of his eyes and stone cold face, but not to Isaac. 

To 6 year-old, introverted and shy Isaac, he was mysterious and alluring. Plus, he gave Isaac something he never had before: confidence. Because he never would think he’d be in this kid’s presence without feeling shy and scared by his icy looks of condemnation and judgment, but here he is, smiling and laughing with Seraph who is sitting between him and Matt.

And…6 year-old Seraph was sporting a smile of his own. Isaac once again turns his head to the former. “Hey, can I call you Raph instead?”

Now, it was Seraph’s turn to be surprised. Isaac thought he stepped too far again and took advantage of his newfound friendship. 

“Yes, you may call me Raph, a shortened version of my name.” The aforementioned kid just continues to shock and impress Isaac more and more. “Only if I can request to call you Zac.”

Isaac smiles at that nickname that Matt gives him, now being asked by Seraph. “Deal.”

(3 years later…)

Friendships are supposed to be forever. Especially when it is a treasured one, especially when two kids have become best friends over time. 9-year old Isaac always thought that he was going to have this friendship with Seraph and Matt. So…where did it go wrong? How did their friendship collapse in the blink of an eye?

He didn't know what happened that night—no, he did. He was aware of his brother’s swim team and his father, who is the coach of the aforementioned team, having a huge party in the backyard of their house. His older brother Camden was one of the star swimmers and the main clique leader of this team. It should have been a celebration filled with good times and happiness. It wasn’t. 

He and Matt were supposed to exchange the latest Spiderman comic book, as the duo were very huge fanboys of the character and series. Seraph did adore Spiderman as well, but he was more of a Black Panther and Thor fan, yet Seraph always quoted a famous quote from Spiderman: “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.”

It was just the two of them since Seraph left early because he gained a headache that made him groan from time to time and it made Isaac and Matt concerned for their best friend. The affluent child’s cousin, Coriolanus, came and picked him up. It is also ironic how Coriolanus was the best friend of his older brother, because they were the same age but while Camden was part of the swimming team, Coriolanus was in the basketball team since his height overshadowed everyone that Isaac sometimes thought Coriolanus was a giant. 

The boy’s comic book exchange went downhill because Matt was nowhere to be found, until he heard screaming and yelling. He runs just in time to see his father, who was holding a soaked and gasping Matt by the edge of their pool, yelling at Seraph who is surprisingly back to their house. But the 9-year old noticed the tense posture, the snarl, and blazing look in Seraph’s eyes—an unusual sight. He never saw his best friend express, it was like looking at a clone who took over someone’s body with their only change being their personality. Isaac began shaking because of how furious his father was getting and the grinding of his teeth, afterall his father has gotten distant and apathetic with anger, going as far as taking it out on him and Camden lately. He didn’t want Seraph to endure that same treatment, yet his affluent best friend looked unafraid, challenging his father’s authority. He never heard Seraph scream and yell with so much anger that it puts the Incredible Hulk’s anger to shame. 

His eyes widen as he witnesses his father push Seraph slightly in anger, saliva catching in his throat before his legs carry him over to the hostile scene to stop his father from going to hurt Seraph. The next action freezes him—the punch Seraph delivers in retaliation after his father lets go of Matt. The rough cry of his father, the thud of his body, and the clatter of his father’s glasses on the concrete floor intensified his shock. Watching his best friend strike his father in the face in front of everyone was like watching a movie in slow motion. The chaos that kept rising ended with Seraph’s fist, the silence echoing in the atmosphere as the once thriving party came to an abrupt end. 

He watches his father recoil, a hand to his face where Seraph struck, contorted in shock. Coriolanus dashes past little Isaac before halting in front of his enraged little cousin and a wet, dripping, and paralyzed Matt. He could have sworn he saw Seraph’s eyes glow in dark violet hue, but when he blinked to do a double take, they were gone. Maybe it was the pool lights reflecting in his eyes, illuminating the azure color of the water that mirrored his eyes. Perhaps it was the lights around them brightening the atmosphere, giving a luminescent glow. The chaos returns with a vengeance as he sees Coriolanus argue with Camden, rage barely concealed on the surface, while Isaac’s father threatens to call the police for what Seraph had done.

Isaac stood there, aghast and paralyzed with his limbs unsteady and mouth parted open, hearing himself say “stop”, “stop”, “stop”, “please don’t, “don’t call them”. The daunting thought of the police taking Seraph away was horrifying despite how unrealistic it sounded because the police couldn’t arrest little kids. At the same time, he is unable to understand or figure out why his Seraph punched him so hard that blood is trickling down from both nostrils, the vermillion liquid coating the tanned skin of his father’s nose cascading down to his lips and to his hand. Just how hard did his best friend punch him?

He found himself walking towards Matt, who had gone silent, yet his clothes were drenched in water and chlorine, shivering like a leaf in autumn. Something must have happened that caused Matt to quiver and gasp like this because he never saw Matt so frightened, eyes filled with terror. He never saw Seraph aggressive, eyes filled with rage. These are two sights he never wants to see from them. 

The ever increasing yells and screams went in and out of his ear, and now he felt himself shaking from the hostile atmosphere.

“Arresting my cousin because he punched you after you were the one who put your hands on him!? YOU STARTED IT!!!”

“You should have been the one to put him on a leash because he’s—!”

“Call my cousin a dog and I will do worse than whack you across the face.”

“YOU THREATEN ME!? YOU WANNA THREATEN ME!?”

“That’s not a threat! That’s a promise Mr. Lahey! And Camden you should have known better than to throw Matt in the pool when he can’t swim!”

Wait…what?

“What kind of man doesn’t know how to swim? He is a sissy!”

“NOT EVERYONE HAS THE KNOWLEDGE OR ABILITY TO SWIM YOU DERANGED LUNATIC—!”

“Stop calling Matt names, you degenerate jerk!” It was the rough and icy timbre of Seraph’s voice that degraded his father afterwards, and Isaac began shaking uncontrollably. He wants this to stop, he is trying to hold Matt close to him while failing to stay calm from the arguing. He doesn’t know what to do, or how to stop them from arguing. Other than drag the eerily quiet yet shuddering Matt away from the macabre of insults and aggressive tension. 

“Matt,” Isaac wordlessly says, shaking his soaked arms slightly when he doesn't get a response, “Matt are you okay? What happened?” Isaac glanced at his friend who was still shocked and silent through his wheezing, as if he was having an asthma attack. His condition being a backdrop to the heated arguing of spiteful and hostile words and shouts, with Coriolanus and Camden on the verge of throwing blows.

"ENOUGH!!!" The command sliced through the chaotic air like a thunderclap, an authoritative crescendo that sent shockwaves through the backyard. Isaac, caught off guard, felt an involuntary flinch as the reverberations reached him. The source of the sound and tonality was immediately apparent, as his instinct guided his gaze to the epicenter.

There, amidst the turmoil, emerged the tall and imposing figure of Seraph's father in the doorway that separates the pool and kitchenette of Isaac’s house. His silhouette cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the heated confrontation. The air seemed to still be around him, as if nature itself acknowledged the presence of a commanding force.

Seraph's father stood with a stoic and collected demeanor, a calm yet intense glare cutting through the tumult like a laser. His eyes bore the weight of authority, a simmering power beneath the surface. The lines etched on his face hinted at experiences weathered, a testament to the resilience that accompanied a father's steadfast resolve.

Isaac couldn't help but be captivated by the scene. The contrast between the authoritative figure and the chaos unfolding created a tableau of tension and consequence. The backyard, once a battleground of heated exchanges, now held an anticipatory hush, awaiting the next course in the unpredictable story unfolding before them.

The click and echo of dress shoes was heard on the concrete pavement, the man’s gaze unwavering. Isaac quickly steals a shaky glance at his 9 year old best friend and a now calmed down Coriolanus. 

“Coryo, take Seraph to the car. I will handle this.” Was Seraph’s father’s only words before the taller male nods wordlessly and gently grabs the affluent elementary kid, then begins walking. He could hear his father’s angry shouts and hollers which was followed by Seraph’s father’s calm but firm replies, but Seraph wasn’t looking at him. Isaac kept calling his name, and even went in to grab him but his movements were stopped by Isaac’s furious father, a callous vice grip on his pale wrist that made him wince and knew it would leave bruises.

“You are to never play with that kid again, ya understand!?”

“But Dad—!”

“I said, do you understand!?” His father, appearing enraged and hostile with his nose and lips still coated in his own blood, while painfully squeezing Isaac’s little wrist, made the kid nod hesitantly. He didn’t want to stop talking to Seraph. That’s his best friend. 

The rest of the night went on in a blur, as Seraph’s father left, followed by Matt’s parents arriving in a frenzy to pick him up and the party ended right there. But Isaac was only focused on Matt and Seraph. While Matt’s parents stated he was okay and had no physical related injuries, his friend never contacted him back at all. Matt also didn’t want to come back to the Lahey residence per what his parents have told him. Yet, the biggest radio silence he ever received was from Seraph. Since that night, he never received a phone call from the Kingfisher residence, or a visit to his house. It was as if his best friend had disappeared. 

He waited…and waited…and waited…and waited until it had been 3 weeks and the nervousness began eating him alive. The menacing and eerie radio silence gnawed at him, his endless fidgeting eroding his uneasiness, Isaac didn't know what to do. Seraph did not contact him at all.

Then, he heard the news of Seraph's grandfather, who was murdered in cold blood in the reserve. The iciness that entered the child's veins was visible through his shaking form. The death of Augustus Kingfisher was an eerie and traumatic death, he couldn't bear to know how Seraph was currently feeling at this very moment in time, but he knows what it feels like to lose a relative he loves. He lost his mother. That led to 2 more weeks of radio silence, until one day, Isaac decided to take the initiative to call him. It's what childhood best friends do, right? To watch over each-other, right?

He got the courage to pull the house phone from the receiver and dialed the number to Seraph’s house. He was finally able to speak to Seraph. But, the call didn’t end well. The harsh and cold voice of his best friend made little Isaac wince and recoil in shock. Isaac tried to ask what is wrong and why is Raph acting like this. 

“We cannot see each other anymore Isaac.” The delivery of Seraph’s words were vague but haunting. What did he mean by that? Why did Seraph sound so cold and detached? 

Isaac was speechless, stuttering over his words.

“What do you mean we can’t see each other anymore? Why are you talking like that?”

“I am merely saying that we cannot have moments of camaraderie, or in layman terms, hang out anymore. We need to dissolve our friendship from the events that happened at the pool.” Seraph rephrases for the boy. A sudden shift of panic and despair grows inside of Isaac’s gut. Why is he breaking our friendship?

“Why…? Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand, why do we have to stop being friends? Whatever I did I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you or for my dad hurting you? Did he do something that made you punch my dad’s face?” His eyes were burning with saltwater, brimming at the edge begging to be released from his eyes.

"Raph...is it...is it because of what happened to your grandfather-"

“Goodbye Isaac.” Seraph concludes coldly, getting cut off before hearing the line of the telephone disconnecting, its alarm-like sound ringing in his ear. The first tear dropped to the floor, while Isaac’s form remained still. Needles prickled inside of his arm as his grasp on the phone stilled. The air felt heavy, a foreboding silence ringing in his ears all around him, except the daunting and cold echoing of Seraph’s words.

Seraph…don’t leave me alone…    

(Present Day)

He remembers it like it was yesterday. The childhood memories he has, once filled with warmth and serene, are now overwhelmed by bitterness and icy callousness that springs tears to his eyes. Yet the painful but sweet memory stopped his dawning panic attack, but it brought upon hurt and emotional discomfort. He’s been in emotional turmoil throughout his life. His friend abandoned him when he needed him the most. When Seraph also needed him as well.

The loss of his mother, the death of his brother in Afghanistan, the abrupt change and cruelty of his father, and the destruction of his friendships, Matt Daehler and most importantly, Seraph. What hurts more is the pain and viciousness of his friend’s words, calling out his abuse and victimization that he hides behind a facade of nonchalance and introvert to be careless and detrimental to him rather than taking action to do something about it. As if he isn’t aware of the agonizing situation that he deals with at home everyday of his life. As if he isn’t aware of the bruises and cuts he receives from his father who shows absolutely no care in hitting him whenever he wants. As if he doesn’t experience pain, drama, and turmoil every month, every week, every day, every hour. Yet his friend did not take that into consideration, but brought it up abruptly and callously. 

It doesn’t help that he has to return home to a toxic and unwelcoming environment that he calls home because he has nowhere else to go, or no other relative that lives in Beacon Hills. Plus, his father is all he has left, even if it feels like swallowing lead and venom while he is in his presence, even if his cold and brutal hands break his skin and hurts him before throwing him inside the freezer box, even his father’s words of gaslighting and verbal insults pierce through him like a blade of torture, he still gets back up and moves forward. The terror and fright behind it all hurts and traumatizes him, yet what is he able to do? Who would ever want to aid a weak teenager who cannot defend himself against his father? They may even say his father is right because he does wrong things that are disobedient to his father, despite his conscious telling him that what his father is wrong hundred percent of the time in his actions. Yet his friend revealed the hard cold truth to him that he wished wasn’t true, and is terrified to believe.

He just doesn’t want to be alone, and yet now…he feels truly alone…because Seraph’s words of the harsh, bitter truth came to light and stated it insensitively. Why Raph? Why did you leave me behind?

The sound of chatter in the hallways makes Isaac glance at the clock of the empty classroom and he realizes there’s only 15 minutes left of lunch, almost time for his next class. He wipes away his tears, wincing slightly when he rubs the bruise on his cheek. He can’t have anyone see him with his eyes all red and puffy. Maybe they wouldn’t care if they saw him like this. Just like how Seraph wouldn’t care.

Perhaps...he never knew Seraph as much as he thought he did.

---------------------------------------

The school’s main office is usually a place of tension and anticipation for students who are in trouble, or a place of contentment and joy when they are told their parents are requesting them to come home for something important. In Seraph’s case, it was neither. He is a student with an A grade in all of his classes so the first option is out, and he loves school and to do classwork so the second option is out, Well what is it? He missed History class, and to top it off, it’s Free Period. Most students would be questioned as to why they are in the office for so long. But due to his academic GPA and standing, the office was his second study place. Not to mention his father donates to the school annually, cue the favoritism to his chagrin.

The remorse and regret of his cruel and indifferent words to Isaac’s current situation is sinking him into a pit of shame and disappointment. Not to mention he feels Isaac’s aura of melancholy and heartache across the school all thanks to him. But he knows better to approach the teenager right now to confront and apologize for his words knowing that will only make the circumstances worse. 

Congratulations, Seraph. You stabbed a dagger through Zac’s soul and drained it all of what innocence he had left. Impressive and fantastic. Now you are left with the repercussions of what you’ve caused. Then you wonder exactly why your deceased grandfather stated you have a provocative mouth. The sarcastic and impervious thoughts of his conscience mocks him. A harsh scowl plasters his face, not in the mood to deal with his conscience or be reminded of the horrid trauma of his dead relative. The consistent clatter of typing on the keyboard behind the desk, along with the telephones ringing in the atmosphere and the chatter of students in the hallway outside was just minimal background noise.

Seraph was in his own conscience, reeling over his harsh encounter with Isaac, his…ex-friend he assumes now that he probably squashed any chances of reconciliation, and the premonition he received of a future; a future of him and the others alongside new faces in Beacon Hills, which he is unable to decipher because he is aware that those faces aren’t familiar. WAIT— the one who was wearing the Jersey that had the number 9 on it, is actually familiar. But where have I seen that face before? 

A quiet hiss leaves his mouth from remembering the bewildering premonition, rubbing his two fingers on his temple. This is one huge drawback with his precognitive powers. This can occur in two separate ways: either through getting successive premonitions within a 24 hour period, or receiving a large premonition that reveals many adversaries and outcomes at once and can travel in said realm of precognition such as the one he had minutes ago. The result of taking in such a drastic premonition lands him with an irritable headache that will last for a few hours. He should have turned off his premonition this morning if he didn’t want to receive such future obstacles. Now he understands why his father shuts off his precognition when he is away in his locations such as Alaska or San Francisco, or during his political work in Beacon Hills Town Hall. Now he understands why his family remains a neutral party in all conflicts, such as the Hale Fire, Scott’s transformation, the Largest arrival, and the unknown identity of the Alpha. 

Speaking of turning off the power…

Seraph closes his eyes and turns off his ability, inquiring about the possibility that the headache may disperse much sooner with his special ability now off. Yet that still does not help his current impasse. No aspirin or pain-relieving medication would prove efficacious in alleviating his headache, because it manifested itself through the use of supernatural energy. How hollow and pointless would it be if the school nurse were to examine his headache with technological test results only to come up with nothing. It would be unmistakable exposure and treacherous for him to go to the hospital to inspect his headache, since using the CT scan would show the humans his skull which would reflect the lighting and photo scans thanks to his blood and supernatural biology. (Yes he will continue to milk the supernatural biology card and he will not be unfettered by it.) 

The clicking sounds of heels and his name being called forces Seraph to glance at the school’s secretary. “Good Afternoon, Mr. Kingfisher. Do you wish to call your mom so you can be sent home?”

Seraph simply nods, taking his cell phone out and dialing the number of his mother’s cellphone while the school secretary prepares the necessary documents to be sent home and excused for his classes today. It did earn him surprised and unusual glances since for the first time in his history of attending school, he is being sent home. He has not missed a day of school in his life, nor has he ever received a tardy for being late, nor has he been sent home for sickness or pain as the latter has never contracted diseases or pain. (Thanks to his immunity to diseases.)

For him to go home in the middle of the school day is quite shocking to the staff. Yet he doesn’t spare any of them a look, his eyes trained on the ceiling as he waits for the call to pick up on the phone. The ringing ends and a soft yet confused tone enters his ears. “Seraph, is everything okay?”

Already asking him and without even receiving information on what is wrong, Seraph’s expression is amused slightly, yet restrains himself from adding discomfort to his head. “No. I have a painful pounding in my skull and my current mood is not an exquisite one. I cannot concentrate on my work with an excruciating headache disrupting everything I try to do, and before you conclude anything,” his voice drops to a whisper, “it’s the special headaches I would get from my premonitions.” Unfortunately, being immune from every disease in the world does not mean he is immune to headaches. Normal headaches that a typical human or a werewolf would get, applies to his kind as well, but since normal medication like aspirin would be ineffective, he would have to use a concoction of vervain, clover, and mugwort, a surprisingly not-so-bad concoction, to quell normal headaches.

Whereas the special headaches that come from his premonition ability, those take more time to dissipate because it is the psychological impact and vignette vision behind the premonitions that cause a mental and soul distress between his brain and supernatural powers. The concoction won't work for this so he will have to drag it out. The special headaches last longer and it varies how much was envisioned within a day or the successive amounts of premonitions that occurred within an hour time limit.

He hears his mom clear her throat. “Now I see. Did you receive too many premonitions within the hour limit, or did you receive a large one that caused you to explore outside of where you are standing in your premonition?” His mom inquires, her voice steady yet comfortable. Unlike him, his sister, and his father, his mother does not have the premonition ability, since this unique power originated from his paternal grandfather, and was passed down to Azrael, which then was passed down to him and Celes. 

“It was an extended premonition that manifested my headache.” He murmurs quietly, drinking a cup of water to at least soothe him. He heard a hum of acknowledgment on the line, followed by a short pause.

“Is there more to this story?” Elizabeth’s calm voice questions, and Seraph eyes the phone as if she could see his baffled reaction. “Your senses are definitely off if you are this silent from my reply, as you are aware I can sense your emotions and aura. Did something else happen?” She repeats, waiting on the line. 

Releasing a sigh of discontent, Seraph knows there is no need to hide this. “Yes actually. I encountered Lahey and the two of us ended up having a brief but intense confrontation to the point that I unleashed unwanted vitriol against him without taking in consideration of his well being and trauma…and…I—” For the first time in his life, Seraph stammers, his usual prominence in composure, administration, and sprezzatura lost. He truly messed up big time, didn’t he? First that extensive and harrowing vision, and then his accidental and visceral mishap that tore Isaac apart emotionally.

His mother’s voice reels him back in, worry evident in her tonality. “Honey, breath. Take a deep breath and exhale.” He does as he is told, inhaling deeply before releasing the puff of air, his nerves returning back to normal. The headache only got worse, not enough to stumble him but enough to cause more irritation. “We’ll talk about it when we get home, darling. I am sending the email now to notify them that I am giving you permission and confirmation to be sent home.” He hears quick typing from the keyboard through the phone. “I will have Milene make you the medicinal concoction to help you.”

“Actually, I’d rather not talk about it. I would prefer to leave it behind as a forgotten memory and carry on.” Seraph secures the strap on his satchel, standing up. 

“Are you sure? It is much better if you discuss this with me rather than letting it bottle up. I won’t force you to talk if you wish not to, but are you sure you would rather not discuss this?” Elizabeth asks. God bless his mother for her generosity and empathetic nature. Despite his cold and hypersaline personality, a small part of him is anxious if he is overbearing or irreverent to his family. Though he is aware they are used to his ways and apathy and find no trouble in it, sans Celes who is the victim of his torment of jabs and sibling dynamic. 

“Yes, I am sure.” He huffs out, standing up to stretch, ignoring the annoying throb in his head. A soft hum came from the receiver, as an indirect form of response. Seraph walks to the desk, collecting the documents and paper after the secretary receives the email. He mouths a thank you before leaving, with the secretary replying to him to get better soon. 

“Alright then. Grandma won’t be home until late tonight. She is on a trip to a Gala in Los Angeles with Arnold, and your father is currently at the Town Hall, courtesy of the recent murders to manifest a curfew law for the time being. Celes will be with Gwen and her other friend Patricia for much of the day. So It’ll be me and Milene in the early evening.” Elizabeth tells him. Seraph hums in approval.

“I understand. Thank you…mom.” Seraph tells her hesitantly, a tone he is NOT used to producing. Seriously, how out of function he is today? Elizabeth tells him goodbye and the line disconnects. He heaves a sigh and walks up to the desk to receive an early dismissal pass alongside a large manila envelope of letters for the last classes of today to be excused for tomorrow. He leaves and stomps down the white tiled floor to his locker. 

Suddenly, while walking to his locker, a repugnant, gnarly and copper like scent fills his nostrils. He almost vomits at how intense it smelled. The concoction of rotten copper, dead skin, mutilated organs, and…wolfsbane— wait, what? That made Seraph stop in his path of direction. Wolfsbane…Derek Hale arrived in the school with such a disgusting and deathly scent yet he is alive. Scott doesn’t produce this scent either since the beta is healthy and smells like shower gel, oak and laundry detergent. 

“You must really, really hate me.” He hears Jackson say poignantly. While you aren’t a malicious person, your arrogance and pride is what causes conflict with those around you, Whittemore. Seraph conveys internally.

“Not at all.” Allison rebukes, despite feeling her aura of uncertainty. Allison doesn’t hate him but she feels apprehensive about the Lacrosse captain no doubt to his previous antagonistic behavior. Especially towards Scott.

“You sure? Because you know, I’m not a bad guy—I mean I make stupid mistakes a lot but…I’m not bad.” He asserts, giving Allison his best ‘sincere’ tone. Please don’t tell me they are by my locker. Seraph prays to no one in particular. 

“I like you…I mean—I like you and Scott together, and I would like to get you know you guys better.” Jackson says to the Argent heiress through Seraph’s hearing, and the latter does a double take at what the jock fumbles over his words. Why does Jackson sound so desperate and…unsure of himself? His heartbeat regarding his words states an ulterior motive…what are you planning to do, Whittemore?

The closer Seraph gets to his locker, the stronger and more detestable it grew. His lungs couldn’t bear with the scent, but he kept his poise and continued through this unfathomable torment. Once he was in view of his locker, there he saw two individuals, and while not only did one of them produced the loathesome scent, but the other one was just sitting uncomfortably beside the former. Seraph is baffled that Jackson reeks of a rotting corpse combined with the potent flower. His skin, deathly pale and unnatural, alongside his sunken eyes appears to make him look dead. Until it hit Seraph’s mind. 

Derek’s claws were infected with wolfsbane poisoning from the bullet, therefore when he dug into Jackson’s nape, the poisoned blood and fluid transferred into Jackson’s blood, infecting him as well. Seraph relays in his head after coming to the conclusion of Jackson’s repulsive scent. While Derek only and unintentionally transmit part of the potency into Jackson’s body, it is still enough to cause organ failure and serious health damage into the body. It can, if not treated, kill him. Seraph may have to concoct Wolfsbane Amenia, or the healing Wolfsbane with Clover, and convert them into capsules for Jackson to consume, even though that could raise suspicions within Jackson of how Seraph knows about what happened. Plus he would need Jackson's consent regarding to giving him capsules, something that will hurt the teen's huge ego and earn a harsh reject from him.

He shook his head, the abhorrent smell threatening to make him reel. He turned his attention to the second individual who is anxious and uncomfortable beside Jackson who’s invading her privacy per say. Allison Argent. They were just a locker beside his on the top of them. Seraph’s shoes echo the floor, catching the attention of both teenagers, who have different reactions to seeing him. 

Jackson’s expression sours at the sight of him, due to earlier interactions and the last time Seraph insulted him in the parking lot, which the enigmatic teenager couldn’t care less about. But Allison’s expression is intrigued but reticent. Her eyes study the body language, facial expressions and movements of him. He never uttered a single word to the girl since her arrival, nor acknowledged her presence. But judging by how Allison is studying him, there is no doubt that Lydia must have mentioned him to her in their interactions since those two are best friends. Then again, Lydia is also the type to not tell Allison about a being like him. 

“Pardon my intrusion, but my locker is beside you on top, Ms. Argent.” Seraph politely declares. Allison’s expression snaps to realization.

“Oh, sorry, just…let me move a little bit over.” Allison replies, but he notices the heavy hesitation laced in her voice due to a certain ill-looking jock being a little too close to her in such a disturbing fashion. But at Seraph’s cutthroat expression, Jackson does move a little further, though to Allison moving slightly than to Seraph’s icy veil.

“Thank you.” The enigmatic mutters before approaching the locker, and inputting the combination of the lock to open his locker. The throbbing surged up slightly, and that had Seraph just stop momentarily, touching his temple to rub it even though such actions will not deter the effect of the headache. Damn, he thought, while opening his locker fully to put only the necessary study materials away in exchange for the one he needs later for homework. 

“Are you okay?” Seraph freezes, not sure to be surprised to be asked such a question, or Allison’s boldness to ask. But he keeps a straight face and slightly turns to her hesitant but inquisitive gaze, ignoring the jock beside her.

“Phyiscally yes. I am going home early due to a repulsive and pounding headache that is prevailing my concentration and school input. But nothing to fret about, I am fine. Just lethargic.” He responds to her cordially. To be very honest, there isn’t much to talk here, since these two do not know each other. Allison didn’t have to actually speak anything to him, and he didn’t have to respond. But it did alter the course of their interactions. He did however, heard a weak but masculine chuckle. 

“Wow, that’s a first. Can’t handle a little headache, Kingfisher? That’s the first time since you attended school to ever go home early. Are we less than intelligent beings make you unable to handle our rambunctious rowdyness?” Jackson asks dubiously, earning a glower from Allison who just heard him apologize for being mean to Scott even though his delivery of it sounded less sincere and more desperate mixed with eerieness. 

Seraph, through his irritating headache and in spite of the disgusting odor of death his classmate is producing, smirks and faces Jackson fully. “Ah yes, it appears even the most robust among us occasionally succumb to the whims of a mere headache. I shall take care of myself in a prominent manner, although I must admit, the pallor of your skin and the sunken shadows beneath your eyes do give cause for concern.” It took everything in the icy teenager to not make a provocative comment about his repugnant scent that is coming from him. Jackson’s eyes widen at the mention of his abnormal physical condition that he silences himself from saying anymore lest he hear Seraph say something diminshing.

Allison remains engrossed but indecisive to utter a word to Seraph, who just returned to facing his locker and pulling out a textbook. Now that she thought about it, she remembered Seraph didn’t show up in history class at all. She only remembers that she shares History, Economics, and French classes with him. There is no reason for her to strike a conversation with him, she told herself, but the thought of at least getting to know an independent and quiet individual like Seraph whom Lydia mentioned to her on the first day with a ton of information about him does make her curious to know him. 

She takes the risk and clears her throat. “You’re Seraph Kingfisher, right?” Surprisingly, the cliché question doesn’t increase his already irritating headache. He spares a glance at Allison who is still sitting beside the locker beneath his own. 

The fact that she is questioning his identity raises two possibilities: either Lydia mentioned him to her and revealed alot of information concerning him, or she must have heard the tale of him roasting an entire grade of seniors in his freshman year. He is willing to bet the former, since that tale, while still spoken, is seen as an urban legend that is to not be spoken of unless the individual is willing to risk their ego and pride. But the fact that Lydia holds him in such esteem is sacrilegious but intriguing. He doesn’t know whether to thank her or tell her to stop telling her friends about him. 

“Yes, in the flesh.” Allison nodded, deeply uncomfortable by how the pale and ill looking lacrosse captain, “Jackass” Whittemore is peering at her with macabre intent. The putrefaction of the blonde’s blood, coupled with aconite poisoning, threatened to induce the noxious concoction churned within him, instigating an unsettling urge to retch. Seraph sighs through his nose to prevent that urge and glances back at her. “Might I request your assistance in something?”

That caused Allison to look up at him, while Jackson glares at the bespectacled teen. The enigmatic considers the latter irrelevant as he focuses on the girl. “Can you hand this to Coach Finstock for Econ? I remember we both have the same class period after this.” The affluent teenager did not expect to meet the heiress of the Argents in this kind of mundane manner. If it entails distancing herself from Jackson’s disconcerting presence and the disagreeable odor of mortality that pervades his vicinit, then it is an acceptable course of action. Besides, Econ is the only class that he would rather not have the Coach reprimand him for missing class, whereas the others he can discreetly get away with thanks to his academics. 

With newfound eagerness likely as a result of escaping from Jackson, Allison nodded without hesitation and packed away her things and took the excuse letter from Seraph and safely place it in her bag. “I can do that. Although I just hope that you’re okay with everything.” Allison comments, genuine and serene in her words and expression. At least it didn’t end awkward.

Seraph nods and replies, “I am fine. Thank you.” He shuts his locker while Allison, sends him a small and cordial smile before leaving the scenery with the letter. Unlike Jackson’s current scent, Allison smells of vanilla, lavender, and oak, with a simple yet delicate touch of Coco Chanel perfume. Seraph clicks the locker of his combination before he finds Jackson, who is getting up, wobble slightly. 

“Whether or not you want to hear this is not my concern, but you are severely unwell. Your appearance is as pale as a ghost. You can barely stand with your current fractured stature. I suggest you go to a doctor and receive immediate medical treatment.” Seraph conjures, earning a sardonic expression from the jock.

“Gee, thank you for the diagnosis of my condition, doc. What do you want, a medal? Why would I take a suggestion from your stuck-up ass?” Jackson’s snark only made Seraph smirk. Even in sickness is Whittemore still an arrogant and egotistical jerk. 

"Well, Whittemore, if arrogance and egotism were Olympic events, you'd have enough gold medals to start your own mint. But alas, we're stuck with your diagnosis instead. Consider it a consolation prize for your remarkable lack of self-awareness." Seraph turns around not sparing Jackson a glance, who is giving the bespectacled teen a sour expression. He never had an issue with Seraph until now, but the delivery of his words and hypersaline persona pisses him off. But he knows trying to argue with Seraph is like arguing with a brick wall. He’d lose easily to Seraph’s words and cunning perception.

Seraph stomps down the empty hallway, hearing that clock on the wall echo as it’s 10 seconds before the bell rings. He makes it to the exit and walks down the stairs, with a few classmates out in the parking lot hanging out or doing something uninteresting. The bell inside the school blares loudly at the signal of the end of the period. Seraph enters his car and turns the engine on. He didn’t expect Allison to take the letter and give it to Coach Finstock out of kindness and a means to leave Jackson, but it did work in his favor, He reverses back from the parking lot in a 90 degree angle, and drives off on the open road leaving the school. 

---------------------------------------

Nobody, least of all Scott himself, could have anticipated the tumultuous turn his life took when he was unwillingly bitten and transformed against his will from an average human teenager to a supernatural, werewolf teenager thanks to a selfish and unstable alpha he still doesn’t know about.. His struggle to understand the politics of werewolves and hunters, and navigate his way through the intricate discord of violence against him and the trauma inflicted by a power-hungry alpha only compounded his anguish. Scott is not only grappling  with external threats but also with the internal turmoil of his own identity and the weight of his traumatic experiences caused by factors outside of his control.

This so-called “gift” that Derek persistently boasts about, is more of a dark curse that makes his life worse than it did before. Yes, his senses have heightened to an extraordinary degree—he can run faster without the risk of his asthma harming him, he can hear the faintest pin drop from miles away, discerning emotions through scent alone. Even in the darkest of nights, his vision pierces through the shadows like no sight before. However, these enhanced abilities only exacerbate the new aggression consuming him. Worse still is the looming threat of losing his humanity when the full moon casts its illuminating glow, pitting his humanity against his inner werewolf.

Regardless of his phenomenal abilities, he must keep them hidden from his mother, Allison, and his peers at school. Nevertheless, all efforts are almost starting to prove futile when Derek impulsively accuses his boss and mentor, Alan Deaton, of being the rogue alpha who turned him. This accusation defies all logic. Throughout Derek's acquaintance with Deaton, the veterinarian has been nothing but a paragon of kindness, compassion, and intelligence, drawing from years of experience in veterinary practice. Deaton has imparted invaluable skills to Scott, skills that would typically be acquired in college practice with medicine and veterinarian services. How Derek arrives at the conclusion that Deaton is the alpha is madness and pure hubris. Nothing about this assumption or situation adds up.

Scott walks alongside Stiles in the empty and dark hallways of their school after getting inside, en route to the office, distressed and confused on his agenda, which was to call the alpha (assumed to be Deaton by Derek’s blind assumption). Puzzled, uncertain, and apprehensive about this, he stares before turning to Stiles with a look of dread and worry. The latter is looking back and forth like he is under anxiety. Okay maybe staring at Stiles’s pacing isn’t helping him either. He glances back down to the hallway in front of him.

"Scott, honestly do you think you can find anyone other than Derek to help you with the alpha?" Stiles's question makes Scott pause and look to his left and into his brown eyes with perplexity.

"Like who? I don't know who is a werewolf in our school. In fact I don't even think there are any werewolves in our school." Scott counters anxiously, more focused on trying to save Deaton from Derek, or prove Derek wrong for him accusing his boss, who is a kind, wise and compassionate figure, is the vicious and malicious alpha. Scott's mind is rattled with anxiety and stress, coupled with the turmoil of his werewolf status as well as his emotions, and the psychological trauma of having to be thrusted into this supernatural world with no guidance.

Having to hide this from those he loves and cares for, especially Allison and his mom, is the major factor of his stress and edge. How is he supposed to continue to live like this for the rest of his life? How is he going to go down this dreadful path as he grapples with his humanity?

"Like I don't know. Who else could be a candidate for a beta in our school?" Stiles inquires more, flailing his arms. When Scott shakes his head confusedly, he prompts Stiles to answer. "Someone from the lacrosse team? Our classmates? Because if they are three werewolves now, then maybe there is someone else?" 

"No one in our team smells like a werewolf, Stiles. If that were the case then they either would have gotten involved, or they wouldn't." Scott replies. There's obviously not anyone else in their school who is a werewolf, otherwise Scott would make the decision to seek their aid depending on how they would perceive him. If they were antagonistic then the chances of help would be futile. He has to understand how to survive as a werewolf and balance out his life peacefully.

"Well—what about Seraph? After that odd looking pained expression on his face earlier I doubt normal poeple make that much of a painful face. Looks werewolfish to me.” 

Scott fixed him with a baffled look, stopping in the middle of the corridor within the vicinity of the main office. He is unable to tell whether Stiles is trying to say he is accusing Seraph of being a werewolf or if that’s Stiles dislike of the academically advanced classmate. Not when his werewolf senses were all over the place. He looks back at the microphone, staring at the piece. "Seraph doesn't smell like a werewolf. He has a cinnamon, rosemary and wool like scent. Plus he's human, I felt his pain when my hand touched his earlier." Scott noticed something different with Seraph. While the pain he felt from touching him was...strange, like there was something there that shouldn't be there. But he couldn't pinpoint it due to the rush of the moment and he is currently in a serious situation between controlling his emotions, his shift, and trying to save those he cares for right now.

“M-Maybe he could be a beta like you and Derek.” Stiles counters while stumbling in his own words.

“He’s not a werewolf. Now isn’t the time to make accusations, not when my boss’s life is at risk or under the suspicion he is the Alpha, which I doubt.” Scott whispers with dread at the hyperactive teenager, prompting them to continue their path. Stiles just huffs, following the Latino male to the door nearby. They shine their flashlights on the windows leading to the room, before Scott twists the knob on the door. 

“Okay one question,” The Sheriff’s son starts off, while going inside first, “what are you gonna do if the alpha doesn’t show up?” 

Scott takes a moment to answer, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“And what are you gonna do if he does show up?” Stiles pesters once more.

“I don’t know.” The werewolf shakes his head before glancing away.

“Good plan.” The former quips, shrugging his shoulders as if they aren’t already in deep shit.

Sometimes Stiles can’t be as supportive as he should be. Then again, neither of them are in a good place right now, not when Scott has to signal the alpha to attract it’s attention and proof Derek’s accusation on if Deaton is the one who bit him. All of this is stressing him out and increasing his pent-up anxiety. “Alright, you said that a werewolf howls to signal it’s position to the rest of the pack, right?”

“Right, but if you bring it here, does that make you part of it’s pack?” Stiles asked. Scott swallows with trepidation at the thought of luring the giant creature to his location. 

“I hope not.”

“Yeah me too.” Stiles quietly repeats, taking out the microphone for his friend. “Alright, all you.”

Scott gazes down at the microphone, uncertainty clouding his thoughts and unsettling his every move. With a hesitant breath, he clears his throat, drawing in a deep inhalation through his nose, as if seeking solace in the air itself before opening his mouth.

A strangled, horrid howl, reminiscent of a cat being suffocated to death, escapes from his throat, echoing grotesquely throughout the school's antiquated PA system. The sound, a dissonant cacophony of distress and embarrassment, hangs heavily in the air, eliciting second-hand discomfort from anyone within earshot. That person being Stiles, and outside in the parking lot, Derek. Something tells Scott that whatever he unleashed wasn’t a howl. 

“Was that okay? I mean that was a howl, right?” Scott solicits, seeking Stiles’s response. The latter wanted to die of embarrassment and crawl to a hole from whatever that was. 

“Y-Yeah, technically.” The Sheriff’s son sheepishly says, unsure of how to respond. Scott wasn’t convinced by that judging by his best friend's not-so-honest reply.

“Well what did it sound like to you?”

“Like a cat being choked to death, Scott.” Stiles supplies more truthfully.

A rush of breath fills Scott’s lungs as he starts to panic over his mistake, unable to hide the stress and frustration in the situation. How the fuck is he supposed to do this!? “What do I do, how am I supposed to do this!?” Sensing his discomfort, Stiles scrambles to his feet to come beside Scott in reassurance. 

“Okay, hey—listen to me, you’re calling the alpha, alright? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a Teen Wolf. Be a werewolf.” Stiles advises him, patting his shoulder soothingly, before giving Scott his space. Scott gives him a light nod, taking a few moments to collect himself, before remembering Stiles’s advice. A transformation sweeps across Scott's countenance, replacing any hint of levity with a grave and disciplined demeanor. A surge of raw energy courses through his veins, infusing him with an unwavering resolve. His grip tightens around the microphone, knuckles white with determination, as his pupils flare with a piercing golden hue. Within the depths of his being, a primal rumble begins to stir, building momentum like an approaching storm, resonating from the depths of his chest and climbing upward, ready to unleash its potent force upon the unsuspecting audience.

In an instant, the feeble, strained sound that had emanated through the PA system minutes earlier is replaced by a mighty, earth-shattering howl that grips the very essence of the atmosphere and the school itself. The reverberations of the howl ripple through the air, causing door knobs to tremble, combination locks to rattle, and chalks on the chalkboard to quiver in response. Even the floor beneath their feet seems to pulsate with the sheer force of the sound. Its intensity is overwhelming, leaving those who hear it paralyzed with a mixture of shock and amazement. Deafening in its magnitude and eerie in its resonance, the howl captivates all who are within its reach, imprinting itself upon their senses with an undeniable power. Unfortunately…the howl was enough to signify the alpha, who now knew of Scott’s location.

As the reverberations of his howl slowly dissipate into the air, Scott stands there, a mixture of shock and amazement coursing through his veins. He can hardly believe that he, a mere high school student, was able to produce such a powerful and commanding sound. The residual energy from the howl still thrums within him, driving through his veins like a relentless force, leaving him both exhilarated and slightly unnerved. His heart races with the realization that he has just signaled his location to the alpha, a fact that fills him with a creeping sense of apprehension. In spite of this, there's a flicker of pride in his chest, knowing that he has tapped into a strength he never knew he possessed.

In addition, Stiles watches his best friend with a mixture of awe and admiration, his own shock mirroring Scott's. He can hardly believe what he's just witnessed, marveling at the raw power and intensity of Scott's howl. There's a sense of pride swelling within him, knowing that his friend possesses such incredible abilities. While he shares Scott's slight nervousness about attracting the alpha's attention, Stiles is more focused on the sheer magnitude of what Scott has just accomplished. In his eyes, Scott's howl is nothing short of extraordinary, a testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

Despite the newfound prowess of his abilities, the dread deep down coils within his internal organs and spirit regarding how his future would be like as…this, as a werewolf. Grappling with emotions, protecting others from harm, being hunted, and having to hone his skills other than being a prodigal athletic teenager overnight but for survival is what courses around his mind like an endless Grand Pix race. The dicohotomy of being human and being a werewolf is a battle he must face.

But, if Allison is the anchor to his wolf, as Stiles mentioned earlier, if she is the reason he isn’t weak, but keeps his humanity, then that explains why he loves her. It explains why his anger that comes from the base of his inner wolf is tamed. Her voice, her presence, her aura helps him remain stable. His compassionate side, his willpower, his kindness and integrity also keeps him human too. Which then tells him that Derek’s advice to stay away from Allison isn’t because it makes him weak, but maybe because she helps him be human. As for the full moon…no he’s not going to think about that right now. There are other times for him to think about this. 

Right now, Deaton is the one who needs help, assuming that he isn’t the alpha that Derek accuses him to be.

“I’m gonna kill both of you!” Derek declares with irritation, as Scott and Stiles venture back down to the parking lot from Scott’s moment of surprise. They both looked confused and surprised at Derek’s reaction. “What the hell was that!? Are you trying to attract the whole state to the school?”

“Sorry I didn’t know it’d be that loud.” Scott replies sheepishly, sighing. Stiles on the other hand was far from embarrassed.

“Oh it was loud…and it was awesome~!” Stiles singsongs at the end, both teenagers clearly excited by this. Scott’s cheerfulness was short-lived as he noticed something was off. Derek’s car door was open.

Derek was undeterred and displeased. Neither him or Stiles noticed the Latino teenager’s distress. “Shut up.”

“Don’t be such a ‘sourwolf’-” Stiles taunts but is interrupted by Scott who grabs his arm while focusing on the black Camaro because Deaton was no longer unconsicous inside the vehicle. 

"What'd you do with him?" Scott questions, his unease palpable as he scans the surroundings for any sign of Deaton's whereabouts.

"What?" Derek's gaze darts to his vehicle, a flicker of dread crossing his features as he realizes Scott's boss is missing from where he should be. Something doesn't sit right. "I didn't do anything." His denial is swift, but the tension in his stance and the furrow in his brow betray his own sense of disquiet.

The tension in the air is shattered by a brutal and merciless attack as something sharp violently impales Derek from behind. Agonizing pain explodes throughout his body, rendering him powerless as he coughs up blood, the metallic taste flooding his senses. Every nerve screams in torment as he is hoisted into the air, his vision swimming with crimson haze as blood continues to gush from his mouth.

Scott and Stiles watch in horror, their hearts pounding in their chests as they witness the sudden and savage assault on the older werewolf. Shock freezes them in place, their minds struggling to process the gruesome scene unfolding before their eyes. Fear grips them tightly, its icy fingers clawing at their hearts as they realize the danger they're facing.

For Derek, each moment is a living nightmare, his senses overwhelmed by excruciating agony and the overwhelming scent of blood. He feels his strength draining away, his limbs growing numb as darkness threatens to consume him. Desperation surges within him, but it's futile against the relentless assault of pain and terror, and his vision begins to cloud, approaching an all too knowing darkness. 

At the Alpha’s growl, Scott and Stiles bolt the other way, sprinting to the high school after witnessing Derek being lifted. They run towards the double doors of the facility while Derek is thrown to a brick wall, his form seemingly lifeless with blood leaving his mouth. 

Scott and Stiles burst through the doors, slamming them shut behind them with trembling hands. Their hearts pound furiously against their ribcages, the thunderous rhythm echoing in their ears like a relentless drumbeat of fear. Horror grips their minds like icy tendrils, their thoughts consumed by the raw brutality they've just witnessed and the terror of the demonic creature lurking outside that just committed murder.

Their bodies quiver with adrenaline, every nerve on edge as they grapple with the harrowing reality of what they've just experienced. The air feels thick with apprehension, suffocating them as they struggle to catch their breath amidst the chaos. Images of violence and bloodshed flash behind their eyelids, refusing to fade as they desperately cling to a semblance of composure.

But beneath the facade of outward strength lies a profound sense of vulnerability, a gnawing fear that threatens to engulf them whole. They huddle together, seeking solace in each other's presence, yet unable to shake the haunting memory of the creature's savage attack. Trauma seeps into their souls like poison, leaving them shaken and scarred in its wake.

Scott never deserved to be thrust into this turmoil, one where he hangs between life and death, and that also grasps the lives of others and his loved ones. The night couldn't get any worst.

---------------------------------------

So, who was expecting Seraph's interaction with Allison? How would this friendship journey on from here? What did you guys think of the past between Seraph, Isaac, and Matt, and Scott's POV in this story regarding his emotions, thoughts and trauma?

Chapter 6 will be released on the third week of May. Also does anyone know how to make a creative divider for chapters? I am not that talented when it comes to designs like that.

If you'd like to read more or earlier chapters of this series, access it here: https://www.tumblr.com/kingofangst/737729405418389504/teen-wolf-au-series-the-wings-of-an-enigmatic?source=share

The Wings Of An Enigmatic

Teen Wolf Meme: Two characters [2/2]

↳ Dr. Deaton

If Ian Bohen was playing Alan Deaton, I’m sure his “shadyness” would all of sudden be sexy! Just say you don’t like that this black man wasn’t written as a prop for the white characters in this show.

so, what are you? some kind of witch? // no. i’m a veterinarian.

insp.

for @deatonappreciation week, day 3: favourite scene

"But, as usual...not a particularly competent one."

Guys, I can't.

teen wolf rewatch just because         ☾ fury (aka deaton gets sassy with derek)

how it feels to be a teen wolf fan in the year of our lord 2024

Wolf Moon 1x01

Episode 2

 Loud music blares through Fallon’s headphones, keeping her in the zone as she finishes her fourth set of pushups. Thirty reps each. The alarm clock on her night stand read eleven-thirty PM. Rather late for the night before school, but she was determined to get a couple more minutes of training in before the big day. 

Fallon happened to be one of the star players on the lacrosse team at Beacon Hills high school. She worked her tail off to get to the position she’s in. She’s the only female on the team and with that came a lot of struggles with the males on the team. Coach Finstock though was never one to let the sexism slide, especially when she had more talent than most of the guys on the team. 

There weren't many other sports in the small town. She would’ve loved to play volleyball, softball, or even field hockey, but none of those were really options. Lacrosse was everything, so Fallon made sure she was good at it. Her father never protested her sudden passion for the sport. It became a good outlet for the emotions she likes to keep suppressed. 

It also was a good way to keep busy in such a boring town. Nothing really happens in Beacon Hills. It’s the same thing everyday. The only thing that provides a little relief for the brunette is her two best friends. Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski. The same two boys she met in the third grade. They were the only things that made the bleak town bearable. She especially enjoyed their weekly movie nights which involved many complaints from Stiles when Scott would refuse to watch Star Wars. He was especially peeved when Fallon had managed to convince him to watch the entire Harry Potter series without much effort. But even though he was mad, he still enjoyed her pick just as much as Scott did. 

Standing up from her workout position, she wipes the sweat off her forehead before taking a sip from her water bottle. She briefly glances at the unfinished book on her head and internally groans at the fact she’ll have to discuss it in English the next day. Fallon absolutely loves to read, but tends to have a hard time when it turns into an assignment rather than something she does for fun. 

She takes a moment to stretch her muscles, hearing a satisfying crack come from her back when she twists. She sighs contently before throwing on one of the many oversized shirts she stole from Scott and slipping on a pair of sweats rather than the spandex she was just wearing. The rubber band that was once holding her hair in a tight ponytail is pulled out, letting it cascade over her shoulders in its natural position. A frown makes its way on her face when she sees how frizzy the top is. 

There’s not much time to fix the mess as her phone begins to buzz on the wooden desk that holds her large mirror. She furrows her eyebrows, wondering who would be calling this late on a school night. A familiar smirk takes over her face as she sees her most recent embarrassing photo of Stiles pop up on her screen. 

She lifts the phone to her ear, “Hello freckles,” she greets. 

“Hey, would you look at that? The Incredible Hulk answered,” he teases making Fallon roll her eyes. The Incredible Hulk is something he and Scott frequently called her after she had gotten in trouble for the third time over punching a kid. In her defense, it was always to protect Scott and Stiles. But she has been told on multiple occasions that she doesn’t usually think before smashing, hence the nickname. 

“Shut up,” she says with a smile. “What’s up though? Why’re you calling so late?” 

Her question is answered with a small pebble hitting her window with a small ‘click.’ Fallon sighs, knowing her buzzcut friend is waiting for her to open said entryway. She clicks her tongue, finding the whole situation amusing. When she walks over to the glass box, she looks down to see Stiles frantically waving his arms in the dark. His jeep is waiting just up the street, lights off in order not to disturb the neighbors. 

She rolls her eyes but nonetheless puts her makeshift ladder out the window. She, Scott, and Stiles had made this for her room a while back so they could sneak in late when needed. Not that Michael would ever mind, but they thought it would be easier than having to make a bunch of noise getting downstairs. 

She watches with her arms crossed as Stiles ducks and rolls into her room like a ninja. It doesn’t look as graceful as he probably assumed it did, but she’s never been one to burst his bubble. Unless it’s funny. 

His roll ends up with him hitting his head on the corner of her desk, due to him overshooting the size of her room compared to his body. He groans quietly and sprawls out like a starfish. 

Fallon shakes her head, walking over to help him up. “I knew that was gonna happen.” 

“Shh,” Stiles puts his finger to his lips. “You know nothing,” he claims with a whisper before gratefully accepting her hand to pull him up. 

“Oh, but I know you,” she counters. “And every time you do that, you manage to hit your head on at least one piece of furniture in here.” 

“You know what?” He challenges. “One of these days I’m gonna prove you wrong when I roll in here so smoothly that you won’t even see me. Count on it. Cause it’s gonna happen.” 

“Mhm, yeah, I’m sure it will,” she replies with fake enthusiasm. “Now do you wanna tell me why you’re sneaking into my room quarter till midnight or…?” 

“Right!” Stiles shakes his head, getting back on track. “Well, I overheard my dad’s call–”

“Meaning you eavesdropped,” she chimes in. 

“Tomato, potato,” he waves her off. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that there’s half a dead body in the woods, and I need you and Scotty to help me find it.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Fallon raises an eyebrow. “Stiles, why the hell would I voluntarily go look for a dead body?” She asks him incredulously. “You shouldn’t even be wanting to look for a dead body. We have school tomorrow.” 

“Seriously?” He scoffs. “That’s the line you draw? School?” Fallon gives him a pointed look making him roll his eyes, “You seriously need to sort out your priorities.” 

“Stiles, I do not want to go out and find a dead dude!” She exclaims. “That’s a trauma I don’t need this early on in my life.” 

“C’mon,” he begs with his perfectly brown puppy dog eyes. “Please? You’ll have Scotty and I with you the whole time. What’s better than trauma bonding as a group, huh?” He smiles, placing his hands on her shoulders to shake her a bit. “Besides, how cool would it be if we did find it? Then we’d finally have a cool story to tell.” 

Fallon feels her resolve breaking. She taps her foot before sighing, “What did Scott say?” 

That’s when his smile falls. He clears his throat awkwardly before rubbing the back of his neck, “I haven’t exactly um… told him yet,” he admits. “I came here first.” 

“Why?” She asks but feels as though she already knows the answer.

“I uh– Okay, if I tell you gotta promise not to get mad because I don’t mean it offensively,” he sticks his pink out, waiting for her to lock hers with his. Fallon sighs but nonetheless links their pinkies together. Not that she would’ve gotten mad anyways. It’s just fun watching him squirm when she pretends to be mad. “I just figured you would be easier to convince,” he admits shyly. “And then Scott would follow if I got you on board.”

The brunette smirks at his answer, “You’re not wrong,” she concedes. “I suppose it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing getting one final adventure in before school starts.” 

Stiles claps loudly before dancing around in a circle, “Yes!” He celebrates. 

Fallon snags her jacket off the chair in front of her desk, slipping it over her body. “Alright, let’s go,” she nods at the window. 

Stiles furrows his eyebrows as he begins to follow her down the ladder, “I-Is that my jacket?” He asks her rather loudly as their feet hit the ground. 

Fallon shrugs with a small grin, “Maybe.” 

“Yo-you can’t just keep stealing our clothes, Fall!” Stiles scolds, gesturing to the whole top half of her outfit. Both items were from his and Scott’s closet. “I’m pretty sure half of your closet consists of our stuff. We’re gonna have to start going to school naked at this point.”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “You guys don’t even wear the stuff I take anyway.” 

“I wore that jacket last week!” He points out, opening the passenger side door to his jeep for her. “Until apparently you stole it.” 

Fallon raises her eyebrows at him and moves to take off the zip up, “If you really want it back that badly–”

“No!” Stiles stops her, making the girl smile smugly. “Just– just keep it,” he grumbles. “You already know it looks better on you anyway.” 

She reaches over, patting the side of his cheek, “That’s the spirit,” she teases. “Now, step on it. I’d like to get at least three hours of sleep after all this is over.” 

Fallon admires how much Stiles blatantly ignores the law. Watching him swerve around each corner in a Jeep that is only one duct tape roll away from falling apart is impressive. She wonders if he’d still be like this if his dad wasn’t the sheriff? Not that Noah wouldn’t put his son in a jail cell for his behavior, but it’s much less likely to happen. 

When the two get to Scott’s, Fallon watches with amused eyes as Stiles attempts to climb onto the roof. She shakes her head at his grunting before stepping forward to give him a small boost. He mutters a thanks before telling her to wait for him on the porch. The brunette takes a seat on the railing, kicking her legs back and forth as she waits for Scott to emerge from his house. She didn’t bother texting him, figuring that he heard Stiles’ pitter patter on the roof. 

She assumed correctly as she heard the front door to the McCall house creak open. She laughs quietly as Scott barely pokes his head out of the doorway before coming out with a bat clutched tightly in his hand. Before he even gets a chance to turn the other way, Fallon is already standing directly behind him. 

“Hey Scotty,” she whispers with a tap on the shoulder. 

He jumps with a high pitched yelp, turning around to see one part of the chaotic trio. “Fallon! Don’t. Do. That,” he exhales loudly, trying to calm his nerves. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

That’s when Stiles drops from the rooftop, dangling top down causing Scott to scream once more. The loud reaction makes Stiles screech in the same pitch as Scott, both of them freaking out at the other one freaking out. Scott’s knuckles are almost white with how hard he’s gripping the baseball bat. 

“Stiles!” Scott scolds. “Jesus! Wha– Why are you guys at my house?!” 

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles yells back before glancing at the weapon in his hands, “Why do you have a bat?” 

“I thought you were a predator,” he answers obviously. 

Stiles looks at him like he’s the dumbest person alive, “A pre– I– wha–” he clears his throat, not having the words to address Scott’s concern. “Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.” 

“For what?” Scott wonders. 

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Fallon answers as Stiles drops down, quite gracefully, from the roof. It baffles her how he can’t sneak into her window without injuring himself but flinging off a roof he does absolutely fine. 

Scott’s eyes widen, “A dead body?” 

“No, a body of water,” Stiles responds sarcastically. “Yes, dumbass, a dead body.” 

He climbs over the railing to join his friends on the patio. He leans his body weight on Fallon making the girl shove him playfully. “You mean like murdered?” He asks them, his brain not fully processing any of the information. 

“Nobody knows yet,” Fallon shrugs. “Just that it’s a woman, probably mid to late twenties,” she regurgitates the information Stiles had given her on the ride over. 

Scott shakes his head, “Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” 

“That’s the best part,” Stiles all but squeals, buzzing in his beat up sneakers. “They only found half!” He can see the apprehension on Scott’s face and narrows his eyes, “We’re going.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I can’t believe you seriously agreed to do this,” Scott says to Fallon as they trek through the woods, trying to avoid stepping on anything that will make too loud of a sound. 

“It doesn’t take much to convince me to do anything,” she points out. “Plus, we’re always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town. So this gives us something to do.”

“Exactly!” Stiles high fives his best friend. “Thank you! See? This is why I went to get her first.” 

Scott huffs loudly, his asthma starting to flare up with all the sporadic walking. He loves Stiles and Fallon, but they can’t seem to keep a steady pace for the life of them. “I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow,” he complains. 

“Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort,” he mocks. “There’s only one person in this group who is actually good at lacrosse, and it’s definitely not you.” 

Fallon smacks his back, “Be nice.” She scolds. 

“Well, I plan on playing this year,” Scott states confidently. “In fact, I’m making first line.” 

Fallon smiles, finding Scott’s newfound faith in himself refreshing. They had been practicing a lot this summer. Both of them have gotten a lot better, she just hopes coach sees it the way she does. 

“Hey, that’s the spirit. Everyone should have a dream,” he pauses for dramatic effect,” even if it’s a pathetically unrealistic one.” 

“I think you’ll do great,” Fallon pats his back. “If you wanna make it off the bench, you just gotta believe in yourself.” 

“What is this a Disney movie?” Stiles scoffs with a laugh. “Sing a song and do a little dance all about faith and suddenly your first line? That what you did, Fall? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.” 

“Shut up,” she shoots a nasty glare at him. “I’m just saying you both have the talent to do it. Scott just might have a better chance ‘cause at least he has hand-eye coordination.” 

“I so have hand-eye coordinati–” Before he can finish his sentence, he yelps in pain as he smacks his hand on a tree when using it to talk. 

“Would you look at that?” She smirks, strutting past him with her arm around Scott’s shoulders. 

Stiles grumbles something incoherent, no doubt cursing Fallon out for the comedic timing of that situation. He barges forward, separating her and Scott by placing himself in the middle. He wraps his own arms around the two of them and wiggles his eyebrows, “Who says there’s a crowd?” 

Scott and Fallon both laugh as they move branches out of their face, “Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?” He inquires. 

Fallon can’t help but wonder the same thing. She feels stupid for not asking prior to coming out here, but she was too caught up in the spectacle that is Stiles. 

There’s an elongated and uncomfortable silence between them as they await a response. “Huh. I didn’t even think about that,” he reveals thoughtfully. How ironic. 

Fallon narrows her eyes at him, “And what happens when whoever murdered the body is still wondering out here? Waiting in the shadows for three idiotic teenagers to come rolling through.” 

“Also something I didn’t think about.” 

“Great,” she nods with a faux smile. “It’s really comforting to know you planned out what could potentially be the end of our lives with such a grueling attention to detail.” 

“I know,” he says, feeding into her sarcasm. 

As the three of them begin climbing up hill, Fallon stays behind Scott to keep an eye on him. She can hear him heaving loudly and knows that he’s going to need to stop soon. He trips over a small twig due to lack of light since Stiles is so far ahead. Fallon puts her hands on his back to guide him up the rest of the way.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott pauses, leaning against a tree to take a hit of his inhaler. 

Suddenly, Stiles is flying forward and pushing his body so low to the ground that Fallon was convinced he wanted to become part of the leaves. That is until she sees the search party from the Sheriff’s station a mere few feet ahead. She yanks Scott off the tree before pulling him down towards Stiles. All three of them lay stomach down growing increasingly more nervous as they hear the search dogs barking. Fallon reaches over, turning off Stiles’ flashlight since he seems to think that won’t give away their presence.

They wait for a brief moment until the group of people begins turning the other way. Stiles smirks before shooting up from his spot and sprinting forward. “Hey, come on!” Scott groans, standing up along with Fallon. “Stiles!” 

Weaving through trees in the dark was not Stiles' most brilliant idea. Fallon narrowly avoids tripping over a tree trunk, gaining some ground as she begins to catch up to Stiles. She can hear Scott wheezing behind her so she just hopes he can manage to keep up. 

“Stiles!” Fallon yells, trying to get him to slow down. 

He seems to hear her warning scream before slowing down. He squints to try and see her form through the darkness. A loud barking catches his attention as he spins around, screaming when a bright light gets shone in his face. Not even a second later, he’s launched forward by Fallon’s body colliding with him from behind. 

The two teens groan loudly. Fallon places a hand over her face to shield her eyes from the light. “You seriously couldn’t have stopped before literally ramming into me?” Stiles asks, pushing himself off the ground before helping her up. 

“It’s not like I could see,” the shorter girl seethes. “You’re the only one with a freaking flashlight.” 

Stiles goes to argue but the deputy holding a light in their face already looks tired of their antics. He goes to grab the two by their forearms until the exact voice the teens didn’t want to hear calls out. 

“Hang on, hang on,” Noah Stilinski steps forward, looking at Fallon and Stiles with different levels of disappointment. “These little delinquents belong to me.” 

Fallon smiles at the man awkwardly, feeling shame rise in her throat at his disapproving gaze. She tries her best to clean the mud off her sweats but figures it would just be best to wait until she gets home. “Hey Sheriff,” she says meekly. 

Noah can’t help but let himself smile a little, “Hey Fall.” His stoic demeanor returns as he switches his attention over to his son, “So, Stiles, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” He questions, knowing exactly how his son got the information to be out here. 

“No, heh.” Stiles tries to deny, but the stern look from his father causes him to fess up. “Not the boring ones.” 

Sheriff Stilinski raises his flashlight to analyze the woods around him, “Okay. Now, where's the third stooge to make up this incomplete set?” He asks, continuing to look around.

Fallon internally hopes Scott stays hidden. The last thing they all need is for all three of them to get caught. “Scott?” Stiles asks.

Noah nods, “Who else?” 

“Sc-Scott’s home,” Fallon covers. “He was smart and said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school.”

Stiles looks at Fallon, impressed with her lie. He nods in agreement, “Ye– Yeah. It’s just us two. In the woods. Alone.” He glances at his best friend who nods her head rather obnoxiously. 

The trio never really had trouble lying. They do way too many mischievous things not to be able to lie with ease. However, whenever Fallon does lie, especially to Noah and Melissa, Scott’s mom, it slowly chips away at her soul. They trust her more than they trust their own kids, whereas Fallon’s dad seems to trust the boys more. She’s a year older than them which adds to the reason why their parents take her word more often than Scott and Stiles. It’s a maturity difference. 

It’s not that Michael didn’t trust his daughter, he just knows she’s just as bad as the boys are, if not worse. Even though he spends a lot of his time at the hospital, being as he’s a well renowned surgeon, he still knows his daughter. His job is the reason why they move so much. When she was younger he used to be a surgeon in the military and they would have to move to different bases. But after her mom died, Michael decided it was time to settle down and give Fallon a chance to actually have a childhood. His daughter finally found a group of friends that’s a perfect fit for her, and he couldn’t take that away. Hence why he’s found a steady job at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. 

Noah looks in between the two unsurely, “Scott, you out there? Scott?” When no one answers, the sheriff sighs before wrapping his arms around the two troublemakers. “Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you both back to your car. And you are going to drive Fallon home where I expect an update that you made it safely,” he says to the young girl who nods. “Then when I get back, you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.” 

Fallon nods, giving him a tight-lipped smile. She looks down at her feet as Noah lectures the two. He more so scolds Carver for listening to Stiles and going along with his crazy plans. The two of them say nothing and try to take responsibility for their actions. Well, Fallon tries. Stiles probably isn’t listening. Once the blue Jeep comes into view, Noah pushes the two gently towards the vehicle, sending them off. “Please Fallon, don’t sink down to his level. You’re the only one out of the three of you that really has a brain,” he says, poking fun at his son. 

“Hey!” Stiles scoffs. 

“I won’t, sir. Thank you for not calling my dad,” she hugs him gratefully. 

“Of course, kiddo.” He pats her back. “Now get going you two. You got school in the morning.” 

As soon as the doors to the jeep shut, Fallon glances back out into the woods. Stiles starts the car, staring at his friend curiously, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about Scott,” she tells him, not looking away from the window. “I didn’t see where he went. And how is he gonna get home?” She wonders worriedly. 

Stiles places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it softly to get her attention. She turns her head towards him and his soft brown eyes force her to listen, “He’ll be fine,” he reassures her. “Scott’s smart. Plus, it’s only a ten minute walk from here to his house. He can call if something bad happens.” 

She bites the inside of her cheek, but ultimately nods. She takes her best friend's hand in hers, squeezing it as he drives her back home. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon whips her motorcycle into the small parking spot near the front of the high school, Scott hugging her back tightly trying not to fall off. She laughs before putting the kickstand down and taking the small key out of the ignition. Scott is the first one to hop off the bike, taking off the extra helmet she purchased just for him so he wouldn’t always have to bike to school. 

“I’m telling you Scotty, I think it would be beneficial if I got a sidecar for you to ride in,” she teases, tightening her backpack straps around her shoulders. 

“No way,” he shakes his head. “I already hold onto you like a desperate koala bear, I don’t need to look like an actual child too.” 

Fallon laughs, looping her arm through his. She’s careful to avoid the bloody bandage that covers his side. Scott had called her and Stiles that morning, informing them that he had been bit by some creature in the woods when trying to find his way home. He confided in Fallon, revealing that he believes what bit him was a wolf. She, of course, was skeptical as there aren’t really many wolf sightings in California, let alone Beacon Hills. But she wasn’t going to make him feel worse about his situation. She did leave him in the woods alone which resulted in this injury. Plus, she can just leave it to Stiles to burst his bubble. 

“Hey, Donovan!” Her friend Danny Mahealani greets with a smile. “You ready for practice?” 

Fallon smiles back, doing a little handshake with him, “Yeah, I’ll see you there!” 

The goalie is quick to run off, catching up with his best friend, Jackson Whittemore. The blonde boy with an icy exterior looks over at Scott and Fallon, sending a small nod of acknowledgement to the brunette girl, completely ignoring Scott’s presence. Falling waves at him in response as she and Scott walk up to Stiles. 

“I still can’t believe you willingly talk to that guy,” Stiles glares at Jackson with distaste. 

Fallon rolls her eyes, “Good morning to you too.” 

“I’m just saying,” he defends himself. “He’s kind of a jerk.” 

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him,” Fallon reasons. “Don't get me wrong, he can be a complete asshole to people he doesn’t like, but he’s not that bad.” 

“You got me out of a potential three month grounding so I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Stiles tells her before giving Scott his undivided attention. He gestures to his side where the bite mark is, “Okay, let’s see this thing.” 

Fallon removes herself from his arm, giving him space to lift up his shirt. Scott winces as the material lightly hits the bandage. She can’t help but scrunch her face up with disgust. Even after he changed the badge this morning blood is still seeping through it. She can’t even imagine the amount of pain he must be in. 

Stiles on the other hand was completely enamored with the situation.

“Ooh!” Stiles almost admires the wound, reaching out to touch it. 

Fallon slaps his hand roughly, “Dude!” She looks at him like he’s crazy. “Boundaries.” 

Stiles frowns, shaking his hand to get rid of the burning sensation her smack left. Scott pulls his shirt down, “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.” 

Fallon discreetly looks at Stiles to see that he is in as much disbelief as she was when Scott told her his theory. “A wolf bit you?” Stiles asks, sending the shorter brunette a bewildered expression. 

“That's what he said this morning too,” Fallon sighs. 

“No, not a chance,” Stiles denies bluntly. Which is what Fallon wanted to say, but she didn’t have the heart to ruin Scott’s story. 

“I heard a wolf howling,” he insists.

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles laughs at the absurdity. 

Scott scoffs, “What do you mean, ‘No I didn’t’? How do you know what I heard?” He asks, slightly offended. 

Fallon tilts her head sympathetically, “Scotty, California doesn’t have wolves. They haven’t in like sixty years,” she explains. 

“Really?” Scott stops in his tracks, surprised by the new information. 

“Yes, really!” Stiles throws his hands up for emphasis. “There are no wolves in California.” 

“Okay, so since we’ve settled this, can we get to class please?” Fallon asks, grabbing their arms to drag them through the bright blue double doors. 

Scott shakes his head with a cocky smile, “All right, well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf then you’re definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you… I found the body,” he reveals. 

Fallon’s jaw drops. She blinks rapidly, hoping she truly just heard what he said. Stiles seems to be in the same state of shock before completely freaking out. “You– Are you kidding me?” He bounces up and down. 

“No, man,  I wish.” Scott readjusts his lacrosse bag. “I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.” 

Stiles and Fallon have a mini freak out together, laughing at how their little escapade didn’t end in complete disaster. “What half was it?” The older girl asks curiously. 

“The top half,” he tells her. “And let me just say, it was brutal. It looked like her body was ripped in half by some kind of animal,” he recalls, shaking his head to rid his mind of the haunting image.

“Oh my God, that is freaking awesome!” Stiles exclaims. “I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since– since the birth of Lydia Martin…” Freckles trails off, watching after his long time crush as she walks up the steps.

Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair flows beautifully behind her with every step. Each and every curl in its rightful position. Her lips glisten under the sunlight from the cherry lip gloss she applies every morning. Her dress fits her figure wonderfully as it moves up and down with each step she takes. Her heels click, catching everyone’s attention as she struts by. It’s a crime that she hasn’t been recruited by a modeling agency yet. And by the drool on Stiles' chin, he seems to agree. 

“Hey, Lydia, you look–” 

“Hey Fallon, love the shirt,” Lydia swiftly cuts him off, looking directly at the brunette as she compliments the long sleeved, off the shoulder red shirt. It’s accompanied by her low rise black ripped jeans and white converse. 

Fallon smiles politely, “Thanks, Lyds. You look beautiful, as always.” 

“I know,” Lydia confidently hums before walking into the school with one of her many friends. 

Stiles looks at Fallon, steam practically coming out of his ears. He’s fuming. She can’t help but laugh at his unfortunate circumstances. He’s had a crush on the girl since they knew what the word crush meant. It always peeved him when Lydia would only talk to Fallon. He supposes it makes sense since pretty people always seem to herd together. 

“I hate you,” Stiles directs jokingly to their girl best friend. “After all these years, you still haven’t even gotten her to look in my direction.” 

“I can’t force her to look at you, Stiles,” Fallon chuckles. “Lydia’s her own human. She does as she pleases. Hell, I'm lucky if she even looks my way.” 

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I hope you know that you’re the cause of this,” he then moves the blame to Scott. “Dragging me down to your nerd depths to the point where even Fallon can’t save me. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been scarlet-nerded by you.” 

The bell rings loudly indicating it’s finally time to walk inside. Fallon wraps her arms around Stiles, “Not sure if it’s Scott’s fault you’re stuck in the nerdom. I think you got yourself there just fine on your own.” 

“You seriously make me want to rethink my policy on hitting a girl.” 

The trio continuously bickers as they walk down the hallway to their shared English class. Fallon was pleasantly surprised when she noticed how many classes they had together. They each find their seats, Stiles one row away from Scott while Fallon is directly behind her freckled friend. 

Their teacher is quick to write the first topic of study on the board, “As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night.” The trio all share collective smirks at the mention of their most recent quest. “And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.” 

Everyone in the class audibly groans, hating the extra paper that comes with the syllabus. No one in their right mind actually reads the words on those pages. She truly thinks it’s a waste of time and trees for teachers to make these. Students don’t usually look ahead that way. They simply wait until the topic comes up to worry about what comes with it. Without much thought, Fallon immediately starts folding the paper into a ninja star, not really caring if her teacher sees. Stiles reaches over, handing her his syllabus so she could do the same for him. 

When she finishes, she throws it back at Stiles, nailing his neck. He glares at her, but it’s short lived as the two of them notice Scott glancing around the classroom. He looks confused. Fallon watches him carefully, trying to find exactly what he’s searching for. His eyes stop at the window as he stares outside, looking completely zoned out. There’s a girl sitting on the bench in the direction he’s looking. Gorgeous, long brown hair is covering her face as she rummages through her backpack. 

Fallon shakes her head, assuming that Scott must be staring at the girl. She returns her attention back to her ninja star, also throwing it at the back of Stiles’s head. He flinches roughly, the pointy paper hitting him on his sensitive scalp. He rubs the spot and Fallon goes to laugh but is interrupted by the door to the class swinging open. 

The principal walks in with the same girl who was just sitting on the bench outside. She’s new. Fallon leans back in her chair, grinning at the nervous brunette standing at the front of the room. Their teacher pushes his chair back to stand, the wheels squeaking loudly as he does so. 

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent,” the vice principal introduces. “Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” 

The new girl walks to the back of the classroom, taking the open seat behind Scott. Fallon can already see how smitten her friend is by the girl. Allison looks to her left and sees Fallon, smiling slightly at her. She waves in return, trying her best to come across as friendly. Her eyebrows furrow though when Scott spins around and hands Allison one of his brand new pens. 

She smiles gratefully, not understanding how Scott knew of her desperate need for a writing tool. She accepts it with a hint of wariness, “Thanks.” 

Stiles slowly turns around to Fallon, looking as completely confused as her. They both shrug at each other, not having an explanation for their friend's odd behavior. 

Soon enough the bell rings, releasing them from the tiny prison that is their English class. Fallon stands from her spot, gathering all of her items before walking out of the room with Stiles and Scott. The three of them make their way down the hallway until Fallon notices Allison stopping at her locker. She realizes that Scott and her locker is just down the way as well, so she wordlessly drifts away from her two guy friends to hopefully try and befriend the new girl. 

Scott and Stiles don’t even notice Fallon’s absence until they reach Scott’s locker and realize she’s no longer behind them. They both quietly freak out when watching her approach Allison. 

“Hey,” Fallon greets, getting the taller brunette’s attention. 

Allison spins around and immediately smiles at the sigh of a familiar face, “Hi…” she greets back. “You’re the girl who sits next to me in English,” she recalls. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Fallon chuckles. She sticks her hand out to formally introduce herself, “My name’s Fallon Donovan, but all my friends call Fall.” 

“Are you saying we’re friends?” Allison raises a teasing eyebrow. “Next thing you know, you’ll be my date to prom,” she jokes, opening her locker to get another book. 

Fallon shakes her head, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as super forward or anything.” 

Allison laughs, “You didn’t,” she reassures. “I was just teasing. I’d actually love to be your friend, you seem nice. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have at least one person in this school I can talk to.” 

Fallon grins, “Well, I’m honored to be your first real friend.” 

“That jacket is absolutely killer,” Lydia’s voice catches the two girls' attention as the strawberry blonde zeroes in on Allison’s outfit. “Where’d you get it?” 

Allison quickly looks at Fallon, her anxieties rising from Lydia’s approach. She clutches onto her bag before answering, “My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” she says.

Lydia smirks, “And you are my new best friend,” she giggles. “Especially if you’re already in good with our lacrosse star here,” she nods over to Fallon. 

“I hope you’re not talking about Donovan,” Jackson’s voice calls out as he walks up to Lydia, wrapping his arms around her from the side. “Because there’s a reason she’s not the captain,” he teases. 

“Yeah,” Fallon nods. “Because someone had to make sure your ego wasn’t too bruised,” she quips back without much thought. 

Lydia slaps Jackson’s chest before kissing his cheek, “Play nice,” she scolds. 

“She knows I’m joking. It’s just how we talk to each other,” he explains. 

“Just remember who keeps you from getting your shoulder bashed in,” Fallon reminds him in a sing-song tone. 

“Ignore them,” Lydia tells Allison fondly. “That’s what I do.” She shifts her position so she’s putting her entire body weight on Jackson, “So, this weekend there’s a party,” she reveals. 

“A party?” Allison asks unsurely. 

“Yeah, Friday night,” Jackson confirms. “You guys should come,” he says to Fallon and Allison.

Fallon can tell immediately how tense the offer makes Allison. She can see her mind running a million miles a second to try and come up with a lie. Luckily, she has Fallon who seems to be quite adept at making things up on the fly. 

“Uh, unfortunately we can’t this Friday,” Fallon says, looping her arm through Allison’s. “She actually just got done inviting me to her Family’s game night. Y’know, board games, dinner, all that jazz,” she clears her throat. “But we really appreciate the invite. Maybe next time.” 

Allison squeezes Fallon tightly as a thanks, “Yeah,” the taller girl confirms. “She’s the first friend I made so I want to introduce her.” 

“You sure?” Jackson narrows his eyes. “I mean, everyone’s going after the scrimmage. I know Danny will be disappointed that you’re not going,” he says to Fallon. 

She doesn’t fall for his guilt trip, staying strong with Allison. “You mean like football?” The jacket clad girl asks. 

Jackson scoffs at her question, “Football’s a joke in Beacon Hills.” 

“The sport here is lacrosse,” Fallon adds before whispering, “I know it’s weird. But there’s literally nothing else to do here.” 

Lydia nods in agreement, “You’re either on the team or you’re in the stands cheering them on,” she squeezes Jackson’s cheek. 

“We’ve won the state championship the past three years,” Fallon reveals impressively. 

“Because of a certain two players,” Lydia dotes on both Fallon and Jackson, making her blonde boyfriend roll his eyes. 

“Keep rolling those baby blues Whittemore,” Fallon tilts her head tauntingly. “Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.” 

“Oh dear God, not again,” Lydia huffs, begging for the two to not start play fighting. 

“Well, we have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson tells Allison, fighting off the urge to say something else to Fallon. “That is, if you don’t have anywhere else–”

Allison tries to find an escape route, “Well, I was going to–” 

“Perfect,” Lydia cuts her off. “You're coming.” 

Lydia grabs both Fallon and Allison’s hand as they walk the former and Jackson to the locker rooms. Fallon leans over to Allison, “Sorry… But hey, you can wear my number if you want,” she wiggles her eyebrows. 

Allison simply giggles as the shorter brunette disappears into the girls locker room. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon exhales loudly as she finishes her fourth lap around the track. Coach has them run a full mile before practice starts to keep their bodies warmed up on the field. He blows the whistle, yelling something incomprehensible to a group of guys. That’s when she notices Scott and Stiles finally making their way out to the field. She laughs as she watches Stiles overdramatically berate Scott for trying to play this year. The brunette places her hands above her head as she travels over to her best friends. 

“Took you guys long enough,” she smiles, readjusting her lacrosse jersey with the number six plastered on the front. She chose number six as her number last year because it’s always been somewhat of a lucky number for her. It’s also even and Fallon has always had a thing for even numbers. It scratches an itch in her brain when everything is even. 

“I still don’t understand how you get out here so fast,” Stiles breathes out heavily. “Like do you full on sprint or something? Wear your gear under your clothes? Or are you like some witch and didn’t bother telling us?” 

“Definitely not,” Fallon replies sassily. “If I was, I’d use a spell to make you have better aim.” 

Scott’s attention is completely elsewhere from his bickering friends. He’s too focused on Allison who is smiling directly at him from the bleachers. His heart jumps slightly, and he’s so distracted that he doesn’t even hear Coach Finstock walking up to him.

“McCall!” The loud man catches his attention, making Scott spin around.

“Yes, Coach,” Scott stands straighter as if he was  addressing a drill sergeant. 

He throws him a different lacrosse stick with a bigger net and a helmet, “You’re on goal.”

Scott looks lost at the instruction, “I-I’ve never played,” he reminds. 

“I know,” Coach nods. “Scoring some shots will give the boys and Donovan a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing,” he pats Scott’s shoulder, acting as if he didn’t just say something extremely offensive. “Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?” 

“Try not to take any in the face,” he advises, smacking Scott’s cheek. 

Fallon frowns, walking up behind Scott. She rests her arm on his shoulder, “You got this,” she encourages. “Show him that you’re so good that he’ll have no other choice but to make you first line. You’ve got this.” 

Scott still looks rather uneasy so Fallon stands on her tippy toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I believe in you,” she whispers before running off to join the rest of the team. A half smile etches its way onto Scott’s face, but it quickly fades as he makes his way to the goal. 

Fallon and the rest of the guys line up, getting ready to throw their balls in the net. Coach blows his whistle, signaling for the first player to start. Fallon watches with furrowed brows as Scott clutches his head tightly. She goes to say something, but she’s too late. The ball flies through the hair, colliding directly with Scott’s helmet. He falls over, making both Fallon and Stiles, who is on the sidelines, wince.  

Everyone else on the team, including Coach laughs at the situation. She shoulder checks the guy in front of her, getting him to stop making fun of Scott. Her glare was enough to get him to shuffle away from her. Thankfully, Scott rises from the ground not seeming to be hurt by the collision. She breathes out relieved, whispering words of encouragement under her breath. Not that he could hear her, but it couldn’t hurt to put it out in the universe. 

Coach Finstock throws the ball at the next player as he runs forward at full speed. Fallon almost makes herself look away, but she’s so grateful she didn’t as she watches Scott catch the ball with ease. Her eyes widen the same way Scott’s do. He smiles dopely at Fallon who laughs victoriously. The rest of the team looks just as surprised as they do, but no one bothers to question it out loud. 

The next guy goes, seemingly more determined since Scott caught the last one. He chucks the ball near Scott’s ankles, the goalie moving nimbly to catch it. “Go Scott!” Fallon cheers, earning a few glares from her teammates behind her. 

As the line moves forward, Scott continues to catch the balls without breaking a sweat. She has no idea where this sudden burst of skill came from. Sure he’s grown over their training sessions over the summer, but not this much. She grins happily as she watches Scott’s confidence grow with each success. 

It’s finally Fallon’s turn and she gets ready to run at him. Scott gets into position, looking more determined than ever. The whistle blows and the ball is thrown in her direction. She catches it like a professional, weaving in different directions to throw her friend off. She’s proud of him, but that doesn’t mean she’ll go easy on him. She spins before cocking her stick back and throwing the ball toward the upper left corner of the net. Her jaw hits the floor as Scott moves with an unnatural speed, her ball sliding into his net like butter. 

She nods her head impressed, “It’s so on,” she whispers.  

Scott winks at her and she shakes her head before moving to the benches with the rest of the players. She plops down next to Stiles who suddenly is sitting up much straighter. Fallon looks out and notices Jackson has cut the rest of the line, taking the next spot. She swallows thickly, noticing the way the blonde’s jaw clenches. He’s not happy about Scott’s sudden burst of talent. 

Everyone sits on the edge of their seat as Jackson moves in almost slow motion. He jumps high in the air, chucking it with the intent to knock Scott off his feet. Fallon holds her breath as the ball soars through the air and Scott maneuvers with just as much determination, catching his ball as well. 

Everyone shoots up to their feet, clapping and hollering for their new star player. “That’s our friend!” Stiles screams, shaking Fallon’s shoulders. 

“Whoo!” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon jumps into the small stream after Scott and Stiles, her beat up sneakers getting completely soaked. She cringes at the feeling of wet socks, but distracts herself by listening to Scott’s explanation on how he suddenly became a lacrosse God overnight. 

“I–I don’t know what it was,” he says, almost in disbelief himself. “It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball,” he explains breathily as they keep walking forward, retracing their steps from the night before. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.”

“Smell things?” Stiles scrunches his nose. “Like what?” 

Scott sniffs in their direction, “Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket and the raspberry chapstick in Fallon’s.” 

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, digging her hands into her jeans. Her brain almost explodes as she pulls out a small chapstick container with a raspberry on the wrapper. “I didn’t even know that was in there,” she mumbles. There’s a small pause before she shrugs her shoulders, popping the lid off and applying it to her lips. 

Stiles scoffs, believing that it must be a coincidence. He grumbles something about not having gum in his jacket pocket, but closes his mouth when he pulls out a half eaten piece of green gum. He looks at Scott, then Fallon, the adderall not doing much to keep his overactive mind at bay. 

“So all this started with the bite?” Fallon inquires, keeping pace with the two boys. 

“Well, w-what if it’s like an infection? Like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” He voices his worries, the most over dramatic scenarios filling his mind. 

“You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles begins with a straight face but Fallon can already tell his end goal is to mess with their anxious friend. “It’s a specific kind of infection.” 

Scott stops in his tracks, his face turning pale white, “Are you serious?” 

“Yes,” Stiles deadpans. “Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.” 

Fallon has to stop herself from laughing out loud. She covers her mouth with her hand as Scott looks even more concerned than before. “What is that? Is that bad?” 

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst,” Stiles confirms. “But only once a month.” 

“Once a month?” Scott stares at him confused. 

“Yeah,” Fallon nods, grinning like an idiot. She leans on Stiles’ shoulder,  “On the night of the full moon…”

Both her and Stiles howl in the air, stumbling backwards as Scott shoves both of them. They laugh obnoxiously, Fallon clutching her side from the stitch forming since she’s laughing so hard. Stiles drags her along as they follow after a butthurt Scott. 

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling,” Stiles defends himself and Fallon as the girl wipes a tear of joy from her eye. 

“Dude, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” 

“We know,” Fallon nods. “You’re a werewolf,” she growls in his face. “Pretty lucky if you ask me. It would be pretty cool to be able to hear everyone else’s conversations.” 

“You would just wanna eavesdrop on Scott and I when we talk without you,” Stiles scoffs. “No gracias,” he wags his finger in her face. 

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “I would not waste that on something as small minded as your guys’ conversations. Plus, it’s very rare you guys are even together without me, so.” 

“She’s got a point,” Scott adds. “And we also end up telling her everything anyway.” 

“Okay, who’s side are you on wolf boy?” Stiles glares at Scott. “Y’know, don’t be surprised when you find me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find. Soon as the full moon hits on Friday, I’m shooting your ass just for that.” 

“Again, Sti, shooting anything requires hand eye coordination. Something that you lack desperately,” Fallon insults smoothly, almost running into Scott’s back because of his abrupt stop. 

Stiles takes the chance and flicks her on the back of the head making the girl whimper. She places a hand on the back of her head before kicking Stiles’ shin. “N-no, I could’ve sworn this was it,” Scott points to the ground, ignoring the two behind him like he usually does. “I saw the body, the deer came running,” he bends down to get a closer look at the ground. “I dropped my inhaler…” he trails off, moving some leaves around in hopes that it got buried somewhere. 

“Maybe the killer moved the body,” Stiles suggests. 

Scott sighs, “If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.” 

Fallon bends down a few feet away, moving some stray leaves and twigs around to see if the inhaler could’ve fallen somewhere else. If the deer came running at him, it could’ve been launched further away then he assumed. She looks up at the sky, watching as the clouds part, giving way for a small ray of sunlight to shine through. The yellow glow covers the forest and makes her smile when she hears some birds chirping overhead. The woods in Beacon Hills is actually a beautiful place when there’s no dead body’s found in it. 

The hairs on the back of the brunette’s neck stand up. She hears the small crunch of a leaf and turns her head over towards a large tree trunk. There is a bit of movement and suddenly her doe eyes are met with a pair of bright green ones. She rapidly scrambles to her feet, standing up impossibly straight as she maintains eye contact with the strange man watching them with a scowl written on his face.

It takes her a moment to process, but when she does she’s kicking the back of the boys’ legs. “Guys,” she whispers urgently. “Get. Up.” She commands through her teeth. 

When they turn around, they both practically crawl out of their skin. They had no idea the stranger was standing there. They mimic Fallon’s previous actions, trying to make it to their feet without falling over like the clutz’s they are. 

“What are you doing here?” The man asks as he begins to approach the trio. “Huh?” He mocks, waiting for one of them to answer. “This is private property.” 

Carver gulps, her hands becoming very sweaty as he grows closer. She fiddles with her fingers, “Um we were just uh– yeah– um, we– we didn’t know that,” she stumbles over her words, trailing off at the end. Stiles looks at her with disbelief. He’s never seen Fallon at a loss for words on any topic. Especially with people who are trying to appear intimidating. She’s the first one to try and knock them down a peg. 

Fallon didn’t know why she was suddenly so nervous. She’s reciting what she wants to say in her head, but it can’t seem to come out of her mouth. The man keeps his eyes focused on her for a moment, Fallon doing the same. They both appear to be analyzing the other. He tilts his head in interest, looking her over before his attention is pulled by Scott. 

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” He pauses, getting an almost eerie feeling from the leather clad man. “Uh, forget it.” He shrugs, getting ready to walk off with his friends. 

The man reaches into his jacket pocket to grab something, tossing it at a rapid pace directly towards Fallon. She catches it, surprised by her own reflexes. That's when she notices it’s Scott’s blue and white inhaler. She glances back up at the man, their eyes connecting once more. “Thanks,” she mutters. As he begins to walk away, she calls out, “Nice jacket by the way.” 

He stops, his frown never fading. He narrows his eyes like she’s some sort of puzzle he can’t find all the pieces to. He nods his head in response to her compliment and continues on his way. Fallon keeps staring at his retreating form until he disappears behind the tree line. She drops the inhaler into Scott’s hand who looks just as baffled as she does. 

He wipes the curiosity off his face, “Alright, come on. I need to get to work,” he states, nudging his friends to follow after him.

Stiles quickly jerks in front of them, preventing either of them from going anywhere. He slaps Scott’s chest, “Guys, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us,” he explains, making Fallon look back in the direction where Derek had walked off. 

“What are we supposed to be remembering exactly?” Fallon asks curiously.

“His family,” Stiles answers. “They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

“What?” Fallon’s posture slumps out of empathy. She had moved to Beacon Hills only a few years after that, and if he’s only a couple years older than them, he must’ve been pretty young when it all happened. “That’s terrible,” she frowns. “I wonder why he would come back after something like that.” 

Stiles stares off into the same direction as Fallon. He scoffs before shaking his head, “Come on,” he mumbles. “Let’s just go.” 

It takes the brunette girl a moment to move from her spot. She keeps her eyes stuck on the scenery ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. She doesn’t know if it’s just her empathetic heart, but she feels the need to check if he’s okay. But judging by his behavior, he probably doesn’t take too kindly to strangers, or anyone for that matter, checking in on him. 

“Fall,” Scott calls out. “You coming?” 

Her head snaps in their direction, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.” 

The trio walks back the same way they came, jumping over puddles and kicking up leaves. She finds her mind continuously wandering back to Derek. She didn’t understand how he managed to appear out of thin air. Then he disappeared just as quickly as he came. Picturing him in her mind, the only emotion on his face that she could identify was anger. Nonetheless, he still seems like a very intriguing character. One she wouldn’t mind seeing again. 

She turns around to look at her best friends. They stare back at her expectantly, waiting for her to say what she clearly has on her mind. She sighs dreamily, “You know, I can’t lie, I know he’s a creepy stranger we just found in the woods, but he is one good looking man,” she compliments. “I’ve never really been one to have a type, but that might be it.” 

“Shut up, Fallon,” Stiles squints his eyes at the girl in disgust. “I should’ve known you’d have an affinity for older men. You thought John Stamos was hot when we were in sixth grade.” 

“And I stand by my statement.”

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Walking through the hospital doors, Fallon adjusts her scrubs and volunteer badge before making her way over to her father’s office. She knocks on the door and is greeted with a tired ‘come in.’ When she walks in, she can see her father looking more drained than ever. He’s been on call for the past four days because he’s been covering for the other surgeon who is currently on vacation. 

She smiles softly at him, “Hey dad.” 

He looks up and for a moment, the creases in his forehead disappear as he stares at his daughter with happiness in his eyes. “Hey honey,” he replies, getting up to give her a hug. “That time already?” He asks, referring to her uniform. 

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Gotta get some hours in if I wanna make money,” she laughs breathily. For the past year or so, Fallon has been a paid volunteer at the hospital. She brings patient’s food, medication, takes their vitals, that sort of stuff. She wants to be a firefighter–paramedic after graduation so she needs some medical experience before going into training. Hence why she’s at the hospital. Thankfully Melissa and her father got her in without much of a hassle. 

“You should be focusing on school and teenager things,” Michael lectures gently. “You have the rest of your life to work and worry about making money.” 

“It’s still good experience, dad,” she continues, setting down the small bag that contains her father’s dinner on his desk. “It’ll look good when I apply to the academy.” 

Michael sighs, “Are you sure that being a firefighter is what you wanna do?” He questions. 

“Firefighter–paramedic,” she corrects. “And yes, I’m sure.” There’s a distant yet painful look in her eyes and Michael knows exactly what caused it. “They’re the first ones on the scene. They have the opportunity to save people before they even get to the hospital. And after everything that happened with mom, I–” she sucks in a deep breath. “I just want to help people,” she whispers. “And I feel like this is how I can do it.” 

“I know,” Michael nods, kissing the side of her head. “I just don’t want you to limit yourself because of– well, you know…” 

Her mom’s accident. Yes, she knows. 

“I’m not limiting myself, dad. I just know what I want to do with my life. That’s all,” she shrugs, pushing down the negative feelings rising up in her throat. 

“And I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he pinches her cheek lightly. “I wake up everyday grateful that you turned out the way you did,” he grins. “Despite your attitude here and there.” 

“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t secretly love it,” she giggles, stealing one of his fries. “Plus, you can’t be mad since I get it all from you.” 

“I don’t know,” he jokes unsurely. “You definitely got your mouthiness from your mother,” he says fondly. “She didn’t have much of a filter either.” 

“Hey, I have a filter on some occasions,” she defends. “It’s just the very rare occasions.” 

Michael laughs at his daughter's humor. He shakes his head before digging into his turkey club sandwich that she picked up from the deli. “So how was school?” He queries. “And lacrosse practice? You finally accept the co-Captain position?” 

Fallon sits down across from him, “School was good. Lots of syllabi, some homework from Mr. Harris, but that was to be expected,” she rolls her eyes. “Lacrosse practice went well too. Scott’s now the team's star player,” she reveals playfully. “Guess the summer practices actually paid off. But uh, no. I haven’t accepted the position. I just don’t really feel the need to be co-Captain. It’s just a title. Besides, most of the guys listen to me over Jackson anyway.” 

“You’ve always been a natural leader,” Michael admits. “But it wouldn’t hurt to take the opportunity while you have it. You work hard. You should get recognition for it.” 

“I do,” she chuckles. “I’ve played in every game since I got on the team. That’s all the recognition I need. I might have a big ego, but it’s not that bad.” 

Truth be told, Fallon has never felt the need to be co-captain with Jackson because she already gets the respect she desires from the rest of the team. They know how good she is and they know she’s been offered the position, so they treat her as if she said yes. It’s a comradery thing in a way. She doesn’t want them to look at her as if she’s stuck up. She’s heard the things some of the guys say about Jackson, and she doesn’t want them to view her in the same light. She’s just as much of a team player as anyone else. She doesn’t need to be team captain to prove her worth. 

“Alright,” Michael nods, moving on. “So Scott’s all of a sudden super good? That’s awesome,” he celebrates. “That means you’re a good teacher. What about Stiles? How’s he doing?” 

“Stiles is… Stiles,” she answers with a laugh. “He’s still a genius spaz head, but of course, his lacrosse skills are still a bit lackluster. Nothing a little more practice wouldn’t fix,” she says optimistically. “I mean, he’d probably have to take a whole bottle of adderall to focus long enough for practice, but I think he could do it.” 

“I’m sure he appreciates your optimism,” Michael responds amused. “Well, I should probably get back out on the floor,” he huffs. “I’m sure Melissa is waiting for you to do her rounds so you should get out there too.” 

Fallon nods, standing from her chair. She hugs her dad, “I’ll see you at home. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The next day at lacrosse practice, Scott informs Fallon of how Jackson confronted him about his newfound skills before heading out to the field. The girl scoffs, glancing in Jackson’s direction. He may never have any real issues with her, but it angers her to no end seeing how he treats Scott and Stiles. She forms a plan in her head on how she can hurt him in the most brutal way possible during today’s eliminations. The only person she’ll allow to harass Scott besides her is Stiles. 

Speaking of the devil, “Scott! Fallon!” Stiles screams out, his voice a few octaves too high. He slides to a stop in front of his friends who are trying to finish gearing up before heading out onto the field. “Guys, wait up.” 

“Sti, we’re playing the first elimination,” Fallon rushes out, gripping her stick. “Can this wait until after we’re done?” 

“Just hold on, okay?” He places his hands on their shoulders. “I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. they found animal hairs on the body from the woods!” He rushes out, panic evident on his face. 

“Stiles, we gotta go,” Scott grabs the rest of his stuff, pulling Fallon after him. 

“We’ll finish this right after, okay? I promise. But we gotta focus on this right now,” Fallon adds before being completely taken away. They run out to the center of the field, leaving an exasperated Stiles in their wake. 

Coach blows his whistle to get their attention, “Let’s go! Gather around! Bring it in. Come on!” Everyone rushes to form a semi-circle, waiting for the first instructions. Fallon notices Allison walk over to the bleachers, waving at Scott with a smile. She smiles endearingly when Scott waves back, but the smile is replaced by a cringe of embarrassment when Coach walks up to the boy. “Got a question, McCall?” 

Scott blinks, “What?” 

“You raised your hand, do you have a question?” 

The teens face flushes. He stutters a bit before shaking his head, “Oh, no, I was just uh… Nothing. Sorry.” 

Coach gives him an odd look, “Okay.” He turns his attention back to the team, “You know how this goes. If you don’t make the cut, you’re most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season,” he explains bluntly. “You make the cut, you play. Your parents are proud. Your girlfriend loves ya! Huh?” Fallon crosses her arms, lifting an eyebrow. Coach Finstock can feel her hard stare. He slowly spins around, “Or boyfriend. Whatever you prefer. No judgment here. I kissed a turtle once,” he blurts out, trying to remain as non-offensive as possible. “Anyway,” he shakes his head, “Everything else is, uh, cream cheese. Now, get out there and show me what you got!” 

Fallon rolls her eyes at the barbaric screams the boys let out. She simply spins on her heel and gets ready to play. She and Scott both happen to be on the same team with the burgundy jersey’s. The ball is in her position as she weaves out of Jackson’s reach. She notices Scott standing wide open and throws the ball directly into his net. He looks stunned for a moment but regains function as he takes off towards the goal. She follows closely behind, blocking for him if need be. He twirls around one of the players, but is met with a shoulder to the face by Jackson. 

Fallon feels her fury bubbling once more. She stomps over to Scott, helping him onto his feet. “Keep your personal issues off the field, Whittemore,” she warns. “Whatever problems you have can wait until after eliminations. And if we all need to sit in a circle together to share our feelings, I can assure you that I will make it happen.” 

Jackson’s jaw tenses. He glares at both Fallon and Scott before pulling his helmet back down and running back out to the field. The shorter brunette sighs, “Say the word and I’ll kick his ass,” she whispers to Scott. 

He shakes his head, glaring after the blonde boy. “I’ll be fine,” he insists. “Thanks though.” 

Fallon swears she could’ve heard him growl as he walks off, but she just chalks it up to his anger. Her body tenses when she realizes it’s the two boys against each other trying to get possession of the ball. She crouches down, getting ready to intervene if a brawl breaks out. The whistle blows and before Jackson can even blink, Scott’s already running away with the ball. 

She yells for him to pass it to her as the opposing team makes their way to corner him, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He continues bolting across the field with such elegance and grace that it makes Fallon want to just stop and watch him work. She stumbles over her own feet as she watches him flip over three guys, landing without so much as a hit from his inhaler. Her pace slows and she narrows her eyes at her best friend as he throws the ball into the goal. Sure, everything he did at practice yesterday was impressive, but it was believable that he improved. This is completely different. There’s no way he’d suddenly have this amount of skill just overnight. It shouldn’t be physically possible for him to do that, especially since he’s a severe asthmatic. 

Her eyes travel over to Stiles and he looks more than nervous. He wrings his hands together as he stares at her with worried eyes. She’s starting to wish she would’ve let their buzz cut friend finish his story before they ran onto the field. 

After practice, and congratulating Scott on making first line, Stiles pretty much drags Fallon back to his house. He pulls her arm up the stairs, tripping up a few on the way there. He immediately slides into his desk chair, patting the small box he has on the side for her to sit down on. She does as he tells her, knowing that if he isn’t rambling incessantly yet that it must be really important.

“The animal hair they found on the was a wolf,” he finally blurts out, logging into his computer. 

“What?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows, not fully believing what he just said. “But, there aren’t–”

“Wolves in California? Yeah, I know,” he cuts her off. “But apparently now there is.” His fingers fly over his keyboard quickly. “Or at least some form of wolf,” he trails off, clicking on the first website that says the word lycanthropy. 

Fallon’s jaw falls slack at his selection, “Stiles, you don’t actually think…” She shakes her head. 

“I don’t know,” he exhales loudly, his eyes skimming over the information. “I mean, it would explain where his sudden superhero abilities came from. Look at this, one of the first things that comes up is enhanced abilities. Sense of smell, hearing, speed, strength, healing. It’s all here. If he was bit by an actual wolf, don’t you think it would’ve taken longer to heal?” 

Fallon thinks about it. He’s right. When she saw Scott changing, there wasn’t so much as even a scar on his side from the night he was attacked. And that was only two days ago. She stares at the photo that pops up on his screen. There’s a black wolf drawn on an old piece of parchment paper being pierced by a silver bullet. She reads over the article with him, all of the pieces seemingly falling into place. It makes sense, but at the same time seems impossible. Werewolves can’t be real. If they are, does that mean every other supernatural being exists? Or are she and Stiles just looking for something more intriguing to think about than what’s really going on?

“Here, read this,” Stiles hands her a book with the title Werewolves: A History typed in big bold letters on the leather cover. 

“Why the hell do you have an entire book about werewolves just sitting in your room?” She asks him, not sure if she really wants the answer. 

“It was for a D&D campaign,” he waves her off. “Just read it, and take notes on what you find.” 

Fallon sighs, reluctantly getting up from her spot. She opens up her backpack, grabbing a black pen and three different colored highlighters. Green, yellow, and red. Stiles catches the color scheme and pauses for a moment. Those are the colors he uses when trying to solve his dad’s cases. A small smiles makes its way onto his lips, wondering if they mean the same thing for her as they do for him. 

Fallon brushes a strand of hair behind her ear as she reads the information in front of her. She figures Stiles won’t mind her highlighting certain parts in the book. She takes some time to decorate a page in her notebook for the cause, titling it in cursive, creating three separate columns, and drawing the flower that’s on the first page, wolfsbane, in the four corners. 

She highlights the exact symptoms Scott is experiencing in green, the ones that they’ve got a feeling he’s experiencing, but haven’t fully seen yet in yellow, and the ones they have no clue about in red. She also makes note of them in their own separate column. Her eyes widen as she quickly makes a fourth column and grabs a blue highlighter. She’s now using this to identify and write all the dangers that come with being a werewolf. 

She gets particularly stuck on the blood lust section of the chapter she’s in. During the full moon, a werewolf will be in their most ferocious state, wanting to kill anything and everything in sight if they cannot control their power. She swallows thickly, her hands suddenly becoming clammy at the thought of Scott trying to maul her and Stiles on the full moon. 

“What’ve you found so far?” Stiles asks her gently, sitting down next to her on his bed. He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes before looking at her work. His jaw falls slack. She’s got her entire page filled with notes. From left to right, top to bottom. It’s covered in black ink and the corresponding highlighter colors are the bullet points in each column. “Holy crap,” he mutters. 

Fallon can feel herself getting overwhelmed. She looks at Stiles with overstimulated eyes, “This is crazy, right?” She breathes out shakily as she scans over everything. “There-there’s no way Scott is a werewolf. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense, Sti. It can’t be real.” 

Stiles hushes her before pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I know it’s all a bit much–”

“Understatement of the century,” she quips sarcastically, snuggling into his arms. 

“But you know that this aligns perfectly with everything that’s been going on,” he continues. “I mean, I’m assuming the green column is all the things we’ve seen Scott experience, and that’s the one with the most bullet points in it,” he says, continuing to read the information as he plays with her hair. “It’s all starting to add up, Fall.” 

“I know,” she sounds muffled due to being buried in his shirt. “But that doesn’t mean I want to accept it.” 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” he tells her. “If we’re gonna break all this to Scott, I’m gonna need your help. The full moon’s tonight, and if this is true, we need to keep him contained. For his safety and everyone else’s.”  

“There’s no way he’s gonna believe us, Stiles,” Fallon sits up, closing the book she didn’t even realize she got most of the way through. “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around everything.” 

Suddenly a knock sounds at his bedroom door. Fallon looks at him confused. Noah said he’d be at the station until tomorrow morning. By the apologetic smile on Stiles’ face, she already knows who’s on the other side of the door. 

“Well, now’s the time to finish wrapping it,” Stiles whispers, standing up. He wipes his hands on his jeans nervously before opening the door. 

Fallon can feel her stomach twist in knots as Scott walks into the room. She feels the need to vomit and hide in a far away corner at the same time. How are they going to break it to their best friend that he’s a supernatural creature? That will most likely try to claw someone’s eyes out tonight if they don’t chain him up to a tree within the next couple of hours. 

“You’ve gotta see this, dude,” Stiles gestures for him to come closer to the bed. He silently asks Fallon for her notebook, figuring his explanation will be more put together by using her notes. She nods her head, allowing him to use the overly decorated page. “We’ve been up all night reading. Websites, books. All of this information,” he rambles quickly. 

Scott chuckles, “How much adderall have you had today?” 

“Too much,” Fallon answers, recalling when he popped at least three of the tiny pills in his mouth. 

“That doesn’t matter,” he dismisses the question. “Okay, just listen.” 

“Is this about the body?” Scott continues with his questions. “Did they find out who did it?” He plops down right next to Fallon who side eyes him warily. 

“No, they’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale,” Stiles says, spinning around in his chair. 

“Wait,” Fallon stops him, not remembering him telling her this. “The guy we met in the woods yesterday? Why would they be questioning him?”

“Fallon!” Stiles huffs, waving his hands in the air causing her notebook to crinkle. “Not the point!” The brunette girl closes her mouth, not knowing when it became her out of the group who had a hard time focusing. 

“What is the point then?” Scott looks between them, perplexed by their odd behavior. 

Stiles sighs, looking at Scott with a serious expression. “Remember the joke from the other day?” 

“Yeah…?” Scott glances in between his friends. 

“It’s not a joke anymore,” Fallon adds, pushing the book that was on her lap towards him. 

Scott smiles when he reads the title, clearly thinking they’re joking. Stiles can tell he doesn’t believe, “The wolf. The bite in the woods,” he proceeds with their reasoning. “We started doing all this reading–” he abruptly stands up, coming across an important part in the blue section of Fallon’s notes. “Do you even know why a wolf howls?” 

Scott shakes his head, “Should I?” 

“It’s to signal its location to the rest of the pack,” Fallon tells him. “When a wolf is alone or in distress, it howls so that its family, per say, knows where it is. So if you actually heard a wolf howling that night, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack,” she finishes, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. 

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott wonders, amazed, not getting the actual point they’re making. 

“No, werewolves,” Stiles corrects. 

That’s when a shift in the dynamics between them changes. Scott’s face falls into an irritated frown as he stands up from the bed. Fallon can sense the annoyance radiating off of him and she doesn’t even need werewolf powers to see it. 

“Are you two seriously wasting my time with this?” He scoffs, grabbing the stuff that he brought with him. “You guys know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.” 

Stiles moves in front of him to stop his escape, “We saw you out on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn’t just an amazing product of Fallon’s training, all right? It was impossible.” 

Scott shrugs, “Yeah, so I made a good shot.”

Fallon stands up as well, “No, you made an incredible shot,” she counters. “Scott, I couldn’t make a shot like that in my wildest dreams. I mean, the way that you moved, your speed, your reflexes. No matter how hard someone trains, they can’t just manage to do that overnight,” she says. 

Stiles nods his head, “And then there’s the vision and the senses, and don’t even think we didn’t notice that you don’t need your inhaler anymore–”

“Okay!” Scott raises his voice, halting the rambling. “You guys, I can't think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

Stiles stares at him like he’s crazy, “Tomorrow? What? No!” He exclaims. “The full moon’s tonight. Don’t you get it?” 

“What are you guys trying to do?” He glares at them angrily. “I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you both trying to ruin it?” 

“We’re just trying to help,” Fallon says, her own anger rising at his behavior. She doesn’t know whether to be wounded or furious by how he’s treating them. “You have this weird crazy thing going on with you. And it’s not just the moon that's going to cause you to physically change. It’s also when your bloodlust is going to be at its peak,” she tries to convince, but by the look on his face, it’s all falling upon deaf ears. 

“Bloodlust?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “Your urge to kill.” 

Scott’s eyes turn dark as he talks through clenched teeth, “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles,” he seethes. 

“You gotta hear this,” Stiles ignores him, still reading from Fallon’s notebook. "The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse. All right? I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date,” he shakes his head, snagging Scott’s phone from the bed. “I’m gonna call her right now.”

“What are you doing?!” Scott whips around trying to regain possession of his phone. 

Fallon clenches her fists, feeling the situation escalating simply by the energy in the room. She wants to tell Stiles to just give his phone back, but they already seem too far down the path to return. She jumps out of the way as Scott practically almost plows through her to get to Stiles.

“I’m canceling the date,” Stiles states obviously, opening Scott’s phone. 

“No, give it to me!” Suddenly Scott is pinning Stiles against the wall, his fist raised as if he’s actually going to strike his friend. Fallon is quick on her feet, charging over to Scott and roughly pulling him off Stiles. 

She shoves him to the ground, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She snaps. 

Scott looks like he just came out of some daze. He struggles getting to his feet, his eyes apologetic. Fallon doesn’t move from her spot in front of Stiles, keeping the boy protectively behind her. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, grabbing his stuff. “I - I gotta go get ready for that party,” he heads straight for the door, sending them a fleeting glance, “I'm sorry.”

As soon as the door to Stiles’ room shuts, Fallon releases a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She turns around and can see Stiles visibly shaking. He clears his throat, “You can go home if you want…” he mumbles quietly as he moves to pick up all the papers Scott knocked down. 

Fallon places her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from cleaning anything. She doesn’t say anything, simply wrapping her arms around him. “Are you okay?” She asks him softly. He’s obviously not, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear what’s going through his head. 

“Yeah,” he replies, reciprocating the hug by placing his hands around her waist. “I just know that this is the only explanation, but there’s no way to make him listen. He’s going to kill somebody tonight if we don’t stop him.” 

Fallon looks him in the eyes, “Then I guess that means we have a party to get ready for.”

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “Lyds, I am not wearing that,” Fallon scoffs as her friend tells her to wear the skimpy red dress she bought her last year for her birthday. Fallon wasn’t necessarily against wearing dresses, but she’d prefer to save them for special occasions. Lydia had gone out of her way last year to buy Fallon the shortest and most revealing red dress she could. While it does look good on her, she doesn’t think wearing it tonight of all nights would be the best decision. 

Lydia sighs through the phone, “But it’s so cute.” Fallon could hear her pout even without seeing her. “And I’ve never seen you actually wear it out.”

“Because if I were to bend over everyone would have a full view of my business,” she laughs loudly, searching her closet for the perfect outfit. She comes across a black lace tank top and lifts an intrigued eyebrow. Lydia furrows her eyebrows as she hears Fallon scuffling across her room, “Did you find something?” 

“Yeah,” she grunts out, trying to pull a pair of light-washed skinny jeans on. “I’ll send a picture, just gimme a sec.” 

She stops herself in front of the mirror, admiring how well the outfit she chose fits her body. The lace top is tucked in tightly to the jeans, hugging her waist perfectly. There’s rips throughout the skinny jeans, one rather high up on her thigh, but it looks good. She smiles at her decision and sends a quick picture to Lydia who squeals loudly into the speaker. 

“Okay, I stand corrected. That is literally perfect,” she compliments. “And if you’re coming on your bike, so hot,” she adds with a high level of praise. “Everyone’s gonna be drooling over you.” 

Fallon laughs, “I sincerely doubt that, but thanks for the confidence boost.” 

Lydia huffs annoyed, “Just shut up and take the compliment. Now, hurry up and get your cute butt over here.” 

As the two girls hang up, Fallon shoots a quick text to Stiles, informing him that she’s on her way. She sticks the device in her pocket before also grabbing her pepper spray and small wallet. She frowns, not wanting a bunch of random bulges in her pockets from the items. She sighs, reluctantly grabbing her license from her wallet and just taking that. She shouldn’t need any money for the evening, so she settles on taking the item that will get her in legal trouble if she doesn’t have it. 

She runs down the stairs, smiling at the small note her dad left her on the table. He’s back at the hospital again until tomorrow morning. She pins it on the fridge, on top of all the other notes he’s left her and walks out the door. 

The ride over to Lydia’s was rather uneventful. Fallon loves riding her motorcycle through Beacon Hills. The quiet scenery is always a nice break from everything. She doesn’t have a problem driving a car, but she’s always preferred her bike for some unknown reason. 

Pulling up to the large home, Fallon is shocked by how loud the music already is. Cars are piled into the driveway, forcing her to park near the ditch. She hangs her helmet on one of the handles, shivering from the slight breeze that hits her. She silently curses herself for not thinking of bringing a coat. 

She walks in and is greeted with a few polite smiles and hellos from the people she knows. Danny is the only one to come and hug her, handing her a red solo cup within the first five seconds. The boy is definitely already on his third or fourth drink. She giggles at his behavior before escorting him back over to his date. 

Fallon maneuvers through the crowd, periodically sipping for the cup as she finds her way through the crowd. She finally makes it outside and isn’t surprised by what she sees. Teens making out and grinding on each other haphazardly, definitely not following the beat to the music. She sighs before beginning her search for Scott and Allison. Her feet carry her around the edge of the pool as she tries to find a good angle to continue looking. She stops at the far corner of the yard by the gate. Her phone buzzes with a text from Stiles, informing her that he’d be there soon. 

She nurses the cup in her hand, drinking it sparingly as she wants to remain as logical as possible. Not that Fallon’s ever been a big drinker. It was just nice to have a little something here and there. 

Her eyes travel to the glistening blue pool. It blows her mind that even with all these people here that there’s still not so much as a leaf or plastic cup floating on its clear surface. The light of the full moon makes it all the more beautiful. Fallon’s always had a fascination with the moon and the power it holds. In all the old folktales she’s read, the different genres of mythology, the moon has always held an important place. It creates balance, an elegance that nothing else can. She sucks in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she basques in the moon's pale glow. 

When she opens them, a thick fog starts to cover the sky above. She tilts her head, still admiring the mystery of it all, the fog only adding to her intrigue. She takes another small sip of her drink before setting it down on the small table next to her. She folds her arms over her body, completely unaware of the moving individual behind her. 

A finger pokes her side, causing her to jump with a small yelp. Carver turns her head and sees Lydia standing there with a smile on her face, “You hungry?” She asks, holding up a small charcuterie plate. 

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I’m good, Lyds. I already ate–”

“Just take the plate,” she begs. “I have to get it away from the lacrosse boys. They don’t understand the delicacies of a good gruyère and prosciutto,” she huffs irritatedly, placing the dish in Fallon’s hand before walking off. Fallon looks down at the plate of meats and cheese, taking a piece of bleu cheese before setting it down on the same table her drink was on. She doesn’t know how she became the designated food scapegoat, but she can’t complain. At least Lydia didn’t force her to go out and dance with Greenberg or something. 

A familiar head of floppy brown hair comes into Fallon’s eyesight and she immediately tenses. She watches as Scott and Allison dance with one another, holding onto each other tightly. She wonders what is taking Stiles so long. She can’t handle a wolfed out Scott on her own. If their theory is even correct. For all they know, they could be absolutely idiots for even thinking this is true. 

“Do you make it a habit of standing alone in corners, or is it just tonight?”

Fallon startles slightly, getting rather tired of people sneaking up on her. She looks behind her and her eyes widen at the sight of Derek Hale. His expression is as stoic as it was when they met, despite the humor behind his question. She stares at him warily, not knowing why he would be wasting his time at a high school party. 

She smirks, “Depends on who’s asking,” she replies, her playful side showing. “Derek, right?” Her eyebrow quirks up.

The man nods in response, keeping his hands shoved in his jean pockets. “I know we’ve only met once, but you don’t really seem like the party type,” Fallon continues, tilting her head at the man. 

“I’m not,” he says dryly. “But I get the feeling you're not exactly here for the experience either.” 

Fallon chuckles, turning her body to fully address him. “What makes you think that?” She asks. 

Derek’s gaze hardens, not amused by her teasing tone. “The fact you’re standing here keeping an eye on Scott rather than mingling with the people who invited you here,” he says curtly. 

Fallon narrows her eyes at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “So what if I’m watching him? What’s it to you?” 

Derek leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice, “You know there’s more going on than what meets the eye. You’ve seen the signs.”

Fallon’s body tenses and her heart begins to race at his insinuation. She rolls her neck from side to side, trying to keep her cool. There’s no way he’s hinting at what she thinks he is. “… I don’t know what I’ve seen,” she admits quietly. “But what I do know is that he’s been acting differently. And I’m here to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

Derek looks away from her and towards the party. Kids were clinging onto each other, shoving their tongues into each other's mouths, dancing wildly due to the alcohol's influence. But when he looks at Fallon, she’s calm, grounded. She’s not behaving like the others. This is the exact environment a young woman like her should thrive in. So why is she not having fun?

“You’re not clueless,” Derek states firmly. “It’s more than just him acting differently and you know it. You need to start believing that what you’ve read, what you’ve seen, is real. And it’s dangerous.” 

“Dangerous?” Amusement dances spiritedly in her eyes. “Are you saying the big bad wolf is gonna come huff and puff and blow my house down?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, growing increasingly more irritated at her flippant attitude. “Close enough. And if you’re not careful, you’ll find out just how real it is.” 

“Seems a bit immature for a grown man like yourself to be engaging in such silly theories,” Fallon pushes his buttons, trying to see how far she can go before he snaps. He knows something more about what’s going on with Scott. Or else he wouldn’t be here. 

“It’s not a theory.” 

“Well, if you’re also here to keep an eye on Scott, then what does that make you?” She asks provokingly. “The werewolf police?” She chuckles at her own joke.

Derek rolls his eyes, “I’m someone who knows the truth.” He replies shortly. “And so are you.” 

Fallon’s smirk fades just barely, but she keeps her taunting tone evident. “You’re really mysterious, you know that?” She stares at him with delicate eyes, looking him over with curiosity. “All broody and serious. What’s your deal?” 

There’s a hint of exasperation in Derek’s eyes. She's infuriating. Everything that comes out of her mouth is either a challenge or a joke. But he still can’t help but be fascinated by her. “My deal is keeping people safe,” he says firmly. “And right now, that means making sure you’re not in over your head.” 

Fallon laughs softly, enjoying the feeling of getting under his skin. She takes a chance, poking his arm, “Aw, you care about me? How sweet. But it seems a little soon don’t you think? We did just meet yesterday,” she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as he rolls his eyes. 

“Just stay out of trouble.” 

“Maybe trouble should stay away from me,” she argues. Fallon huffs when she notices his expression is still as stiff as it was when he got there. It’s like he only has one emotion. “Are you not having fun? I mean, an adult at a teenage party– fun is why you came, isn’t it? Or were you just looking for cheap alcohol?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He glances briefly at her.

“Would you like me to answer that with a question of my own?” She wiggles her eyebrows, feeling victorious as her quick wit continues to serve her well. “I’m just kidding,” she chuckles. “I just like to know things, I guess. Helps me feel in control,” she admits. “Do you always wear the same expression? Or is it possible for you to crack a smile every once and a while?”

“I don’t smile unless I have a reason,” he replies.

Fallon looks at him, faux offense on her face, “And I’m not enough of a reason? Y’know, you could at least pretend to be enjoying my company.” 

“No.” 

“All right,” she nods, lips formed in a tight line. “Point taken.” Her eyes travel back up to the sky, getting lost in the warmth the moon provides her. A moment of silence passes between them, Derek taking notice of her interest in the bright ball in the sky. “I’ve always loved the moon,” she tells him quietly, having just caught him staring at her. “It’s always constant even when you feel like you’re drowning,” she says thoughtfully. 

Derek’s eyes travel upwards as well, the crease in his eyebrows disappearing slightly. His expression is unreadable, “The moon can be a reminder of both strength and vulnerability.” 

She nods her head, her signature smirk returning. Derek internally groans at the sight. “How poetic,” her teeth shine brightly in the pale light. “I have to say, you are full of surprises.” 

A shiver runs down Fallon’s spine, goosebumps forming on her skin. She didn’t even notice how much colder it had gotten out until just now. She wraps her arms around herself trying to preserve some warmth. It’s times like these where she wishes she could find Stiles to steal whatever coat he brought. 

Her eyebrows scrunch up when she feels a blanket of warmth cover her. She glances up, now seeing a black leather jacket encompassing her entire body. Derek stands there in just a tight t-shirt, looking at Scott in the distance, not even addressing the fact he just gave her his jacket. 

“And there’s another one…” she mumbles with a more genuine tone, referencing the amount of surprises this man has stored beneath his icy exterior. 

“You were cold,” Derek shrugs, his voice as gruff as ever. “Don't read into it.” 

“Relax,” she smiles. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

He glances at her with a confused expression, “What secret?” 

“That you actually have a heart beneath all of those walls you put up,” she puts simply. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I get that the werewolf police have a certain reputation to uphold.” 

Something happens across the way. Fallon can’t see it or sense it for that matter, but Derek can. He can feel Scott getting ready to shift. His eyes travel once more to the shorter girl next to him, “You need to be careful, Fallon,” he cautions. “If anything happens, if you see something you know isn’t normal, you need to get out.” 

She isn’t surprised by him blatantly ignoring her joke, but she can see a new sense of urgency behind his eyes. He has somewhere he needs to go. She nods in understanding, “Got it. Thanks for the warning, Derek.” 

Then he’s gone again without a word, and that’s when Fallon notices Scott and Allison’s absence from the loud party. She mentally curses herself for getting so easily distracted. Even Derek managed to keep up with her and watch Scott at the same time. 

A hand snags her wrist, spinning her around. She comes face to face with an out of breath Stiles. He pants heavily, “W-where– agh, gimme a sec.” He puts his hands on his knees, trying to collect himself. He manages to stand back up, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Scott, he’s–”

“Turning,” she huffs, running a hand through her hair. “I know. I was watching him, but I got distracted. Where is he now?” 

“Gone,” Stiles looks at her worriedly, both of them not knowing what their friend is capable of. “And we have another problem. Derek took Allison.” 

“What?” She asks in complete shock. How did he manage to do that so quickly? He just walked away from her a few seconds ago. 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods vigorously as he begins to guide her out of the party. “We need to find him. And Allison. And make sure he doesn’t kill anybody. We have a long list of things on our plate for this evening and–” he pauses for a moment, taking in her appearance. 

“Where did you get that jacket?” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Stiles and Fallon reluctantly parted ways after he dragged her from the party. The brunette sped off to Allison’s house, hoping that when she got there the Argent girl would be safe and sound in her house. Thankfully, she was. It seems all Derek did was what he said he would do. Give her a ride home. The only reason Fallon could think of why he made such a big deal out of it was to get a rise out of Scott. 

“Shouldn’t you be home?” Allison asks Fallon, handing her a cup of tea that her mother, Victoria Argent, made for them. “It’s late.” 

The two girls get comfy on the couch. Fallon takes a small sip of the hot beverage, “My dad’s working all night so… I don’t really have anything else going on,” she admits. “I just saw Scott kind of storm out of the party and I wanted to make sure you got home okay.” 

Allison smiles at Fallon’s kindness, “You really didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did,” she insists. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Besides, it is family night, remember?” She teases, nudging her shoulder.

Allison cringes as she remembers the blatant lie they told to Jackson and Lydia. “Then I ended up going anyway.” 

“We both did,” Fallon reassures. “I don’t think they even remember we lied in the first place. They were just happy we showed up.” 

Allison sets her mug down, the humor from what they just said dying down. There’s a beat of silence, the only sound between them is Fallon tapping the side of the mug with her nails. She glances at Fallon with a serious expression on her face. “So, I know you and Scott are really close and everything and I just–” she exhales, sinking into the couch. “I don’t really know what to do with him,” she says quietly. “I mean, does he always ditch his dates when he’s there ride? Or is that just a new thing he started with me?” She asks with an upset laugh.

Fallon pauses. She should’ve known this would come up. Not that she blames Allison’s curiosity. Scott definitely should not have abandoned her like that, but it’s not as if he could control turning into a killer werewolf. She clutches her mug in her hands, “Well, Scott’s never actually had a date before, so no he doesn’t ditch his dates often,” she says with an awkward chuckle. “But I suppose the answer to your second question would be yes as he’s never had the opportunity to act this dumb with a girl,” Fallon explains. 

Allison looks as if she’s trying to remain angry, but hearing that she’s Scott’s first ever date makes her soften a bit. “He’s really never been on a date?” She asks with genuine affection. 

Fallon shakes her head, “No. He’s never really found someone who interests him in that way. Well, until he met you at least.” 

She didn’t know when she became Scott’s wing woman, but he owes her big time for this. Talking him up to her new girl friend was not on her agenda for the evening. “Am I gonna regret being with him?” Allison turns to face Fallon fully, crossing her legs over each other as she sits on the couch. 

Fallon shrugs, “Probably. But I can promise you that he’s a really great guy. A little dumb and misguided, but he would do anything for you,” she says with a small smile. “Once Scott has taken a liking to someone, he’ll do anything for them. That’s just the kind of guy he is. I can guarantee that he’ll probably be knocking on your door tomorrow morning begging for you to give him a second chance.” 

“Do you think I should?” 

“That’s up to you,” Fallon pats her leg. “While I love Scott with every fiber of my being, you’re my friend too. I’ll support both of you no matter what happens.” 

Allison’s heart warms at her words. She leans forward, pulling Fallon in for a hug. Fallon’s eyes widen, but she accepts the physical affection anyway. “Thank you,” Allison mutters. 

“Alright ladies,” Victoria comes sauntering out of the kitchen with a different assortment of cookies on a tray. She smiles, but there’s something unsettling about it. About her, really. Fallon can’t quite put her finger on it. “I brought some snacks,” she places the small tray on the coffee table before sitting down on one of the lounge chairs near the couch. 

There’s a newfound tension between the three of them. Perhaps it’s because Fallon is new to their home. “Thank you, Mrs. Argent,” the shorter girl nods gratefully. “Again, I’m really sorry about coming by so late. I just wanted to make sure Allison made it home okay after the get together at Lydia’s.” 

“No need to apologize,” Victoria waves off. “It’s nice to see that Allison has made such a good friend so early on.” She takes a sip of her own tea before glancing out the window. She looks slightly shocked before glancing back to Fallon, “Is that motorcycle yours?” 

Fallon tries to decipher if her tone is curious or judgemental. Her consensus is that it’s both. She swallows thickly, “Um, yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

“And your parents are okay with you using that as your vehicle?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Mom!” Allison says warningly, shooting her a scolding look.

“No, it’s okay,” Fallon assures her friend before looking back to her mother. “Well, it’s just my dad and I. My mom passed away a long time ago,” she explains. “He’s not the biggest fan of it, but he knows it makes me happy and that I’m safe when I ride it, so he lets me.” 

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry to hear about your mother,” Victoria frowns. “It must be difficult living without her.” 

Fallon shrugs, “It is. I miss her everyday. But she was a happy person. She would be really angry with my dad and I if we lived our lives just mourning her.” 

“Well, she sounds like a wonderful woman,” Victoria says thoughtfully. 

“She was.” 

There’s a moment of complete quiet between the three. Allison feels terrible for how her mom practically gave Fallon the third degree about her life. She internally groans when noticing her mom getting ready for another round of questions. 

“So,” Victoria clears her throat, “How did you two meet?” 

“At school,” Allison answers. “We have the same English class. She came up to me afterwards and actually tried to help me get out of going to the party we just went to,” she says, both girls laughing at the situation.

Victoria goes to speak but is cut off by their front door opening. An older man, no doubt Allison’s father, trudges through the door. A large gun is slung across his body making Fallon’s eyes bug out of her head. A million thoughts run through her mind as to why he would be returning so late with such a large weapon. 

“Victoria, whose motorcycle is in the front yard?” The man yells before looking up and seeing a complete stranger in his living room. “Oh,” he says, more surprised by her presence than Fallon was by the gun. 

Fallon’s hands begin sweating profusely. She wipes them on her pants before standing up and walking over to him. She smiles with no teeth, trying to hide her nerves. She sticks her hand out, “That would be mine, sir. My name is Fallon Donovan, I’m a friend of Allison’s,” she introduces. 

“Chris,” he shakes her hand. “Allison’s dad.” He nods rather impressed by the young girl in front of him, “Firm handshake, very nice.” He glances over to his wife, “I’m gonna go clean up. It was really nice to meet you, Fallon. Hopefully we can have a better conversation the next time we meet,” he nods, walking away from the three women. 

Fallon walks back over to the couch as Victoria stands up, “I should probably go make sure the sale went well,” she says. “Chris is a licensed arms dealer to law enforcement,” her explanation comes off a bit too naturally, but Fallon doesn’t think too much of it. They’re probably desensitized to how interesting of an occupation that is. “Fallon, why don’t you stay over tonight?” Victoria suggests. “I’m sure Allison would love that, right honey?” 

Her eyes widen, some cookie crumbs covering her lips. She swallows the fudge stripe she no doubt just shoved in her mouth. She nods, “Yeah, yeah that would be cool. If you want?” She glances at Fallon. 

“You know what?” Fallon smiles. “Let’s do it. I’ll just text my dad and let him know I won’t be there in the morning.” 

“Great,” Victoria nods. “Make yourself at home Fallon. Any friend of Allison’s is family to us.” 

As Victoria disappears down the hallway, Allison mumbles something about getting extra blankets for the two of them. Fallon stands from her spot, gathering all of her things to move upstairs with Allison. She shoots her dad a quick text and to her surprise he responds with a thumbs up and heart emoji. She giggles, knowing he must be running between rooms right now. 

Her eyebrows furrow when Scott’s name flashes at the top of her screen. Where are you? His text reads. 

Allison’s house. Nice move btw, leaving her alone at a party. Fallon types back sarcastically. She’s okay, but you better be thinking of some way to make it up to her. 

Wait, you’re at her house?!

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, Yeah… Didn’t Stiles tell you we separated so he could find you and I could check on Allison? 

Is her dad home? Scott asks. 

Yeah. He just got here. Allison yells for Fallon to meet her upstairs. The brunette girl makes way over, still staring at the phone as she begins to climb. Why?

Because he just got done shooting at me in the woods. I don’t think he knows it was me. Just be careful. Don’t tell him what you know.

Fallon’s eyes snap over to the left as she watches Chris emerge from his bedroom. The two of them make eye contact, making a cold sweat break out on her neck. She sends him a tight-lipped smile, trying to make everything seem normal. He nods at her and she responds with a small wave before clambering up the stairs and into Allison’s room. 

It's real. You’re a werewolf? 

Unfortunately.