Chris Argent - Tumblr Posts

Teen Wolf AU: The feud between the Hales and the Argents has been going on for long enough, so Derek and Chris, despite still being very suspicious of each other, have decided to meet up for peace talks. However, unlike it had been agreed on earlier, neither of them shows up alone (in Derek’s case) or unarmed (in Chris’ case), which leads to some tension. 

Scott McCall, alpha werewolf and veterinary nurse, was living a relatively normal life until his mother was kidnapped one day by masked men. They said they were sending him a message from the Monroe Corporation.  Knowing his young pack doesn’t have what it takes to save her, he reaches out to a friend of his mothers; Christopher Argent, a legend among the mundane and supernatural, and someone his mother trusts.

As it turns out, there is far more to Argent than meets the eye, and he helps Scott assemble a team to get his mother back; The Hales, powerful born werewolves with nothing left to lose. Derek is always up for a good deed, and Peter is never one to turn down a chance to get his claws dirty. Jackson Whittemore, A werewolf-kanima hybrid, the only of his kind. Known for talking himself into (and out of) sticky situations. Lydia Martin, a young, beautiful banshee, a weapon in more ways than one. A mathematical genius, equal parts brain and brawn in a fight. Allison Argent, Chris’ daughter, an excellent marksman and medic. She doesn’t take many missions anymore, but when its something her dad asks her to do, she makes an exception. He rounds out the team with Stiles Stilinski, hard-edged and brash. Trained as an assassin and translator, He always has a soft spot for cases involving mothers.

Once the team is assembled, Chris takes his leave. He’s too old for this shit.

Lupus Nox

(A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

Season One

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓖𝓲𝓯𝓽

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

There are friends, there is family, and then

there are friends who become family

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Season One Cast

You as Fallon Donovan

Tyler Hoechlin as Derek Hale

Zooey Deschanel as Grace Donovan

Jamie Dornan as Michael Donovan

The rest of the Teen Wolf cast as their lovely

characters 🤍

Prologue

Episode 1

     A small bead of sweat drips down the little ten-year-old girl’s forehead as she grips onto her father's hand tightly. She watches anxiously as kids run back and forth, screaming at the top of their lungs during recess. Her eyes travel up to her father's, her bottom lip quivering just slightly knowing she’ll have to let go. She’s been to at least four schools in the past year and has not been able to make a friend. At least one that sticks anyway. 

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly to her father. “You said that I’m older than all of them. So why do I have to go play?” 

The young girl, Fallon Donovan, was supposed to be in the fourth grade, but due to her fathers job the two were constantly moving which forced her to stay back a grade. She didn’t like the feeling of being held back. She knew deep down that all the rest of the kids would assume it’s because of her lack of intellect. Which isn’t true at all. She just hasn’t stayed in a place long enough to get caught up with each district's curriculum as it differs from place to place. 

“Because sweetheart, you gotta go try to make friends,” her dad tries to convince. 

“But why do I have to be stuck in this grade? You always tell me how smart I am. Why can't I just go with the older kids?” 

Michael Donovan sighs, crouching down to his daughter's height. He can’t help but blame himself for their current predicament. Ever since Fallon’s mother Grace passed, he’s been struggling to make things work for the two of them. “You are smart,” he encourages. “The smartest kid I know. But you know that it’s not your fault you got held back, right? It’s just because daddy’s job moves us around a lot, so you just need time to catch up to what these kids are learning,” his explanation is soft and gentle, bringing Fallon a sense of ease.

“But what if we don’t stay long enough?” She questions, swaying back and forth. 

Michael moves a stray piece of hair that fell out of her haphazard fishtail braid. He wasn’t exactly proud of his handiwork, but he’s trying to get the hang of it. “I think this will be our last stop for awhile, Fall. I promise,” he reassures. He grunts before standing back up to his full stature, patting his young girls back. “Now go out there and show those kids how awesome you are.” 

Swallowing thickly, Fallon wraps her small arms around her fathers legs before running off to the playground. She doesn’t look back at him, knowing if she does she might never actually be able to stay at her new school. Her father watches after her with a fond smile. His brave girl. Doesn’t even need to wave goodbye. He shoves his hands into his jeans and travels back over to his car, hoping that his daughter has a good day. She may be his little girl, but he’s aware that her attitude can be rather dangerous. Fallon is no stranger to being suspended from schools for her sarcasm and deadpan threats. 

The ten year old finds her way over to the swing set, noticing how there’s not many kids there to bother her. She pushes herself off the ground, using the chains to remain steady as she begins to swing back and forth. Fallon doesn’t mind being alone for the time being. She wasn’t expecting to make any friends on the first day. She is the new girl after all. 

As she kicks her feet harder, she doesn’t even realize how high she truly ends up going. The air catches her hair, blowing it backwards which causes a small smile to etch its way onto her face. The cute grin is short-lived though when she glances over to the sand pit and sees a group of four boys taking transformer toys away from another two kids. She narrows her eyes, jumping off the swing. Her feet kick up sand as he marches over to the small pit. 

The two kids being bullied are no doubt in her grade. One of them is a pasty white, freckles decorating his little body. His hair is a lighter brown that sticks in many different directions. The other boy’s jaw is a little lopsided which Fallon finds rather endearing. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown, and his hair is a bit darker than his counterparts. 

“Give it back, Tony!” The pasty one yells, standing from his spot to appear more intimidating. “That's ours!” 

“Oh,” Tony fake pouts, teasing the two boys with the toy he just stole. “What are you gonna do about it? Cry like the little baby you are?” His friends snicker behind him which only makes Fallon’s blood boil hotter. 

“Just leave us alone,” the other boy begs. “We didn’t do anything to you.” 

“Zip it, McCall!” Tony snaps before kicking sand up at the both of them. The two boys cough and wipe their faces to try and get the sand out of their eyes. 

“Hey!” Fallon yells, shoving the bully as she steps in between his group and the two boys that have been targeted. Tony stumbles backwards as Fallon glares at him harshly, “They said leave them alone.” 

Tony and his friends look at each other, unsure of how to react. That is until the ring leader himself walks up to Fallon with a cocky grin, “And why would we listen to you? You’re just a stupid girl.” 

“I am not stupid,” she growls. “Now give them their toys back.” 

The two boys she’s protecting watch her in complete awe. No one has ever stood up to Tony, ever. That’s how they knew she must be new to the school. She wasn’t afraid of him or his friends. Even though she was much smaller than the rest of them, she still stood her ground which is more than most of the kids could say.

Tony steps forward, “What are you gonna do about it, Princess?” He mocks, once again evoking smug laughs from his posse. 

Without much hesitation, Fallon’s fist flies forward, knocking Tony square in the nose. He falls to the floor, the Transformers action figures falling into the sand allowing the brunette to quickly swoop them up. Tony’s friends scamper away, now frightened by the unhinged girl in front of them. Tony himself whimpers into his hand as he tries to stop his now bloody nose from getting all over his shirt. He doesn’t say anything else before running off with his friends to the furthest side of the playground. 

Fallon huffs, dusting off her jeans which have little flower patches on them. The hand she used to punch Tony is slightly red, but nothing too damaging. The two boys behind her are still staring at her, jaws practically touching the floor. She giggles as walks closer to them, handing them their action figures back. 

“Hi,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m Fallon.” 

Instead of saying his own name, the boy with many freckles on his face jumps up and down, flailing his arms all over the place. “That! Was! Awesome!” He exclaims. “You are the coolest person ever.” 

“Thanks,” she grins. “What are your guys' names?” She asks with the small tilt of her head. 

“I’m Scott,” the darker haired boy says. 

“And I’m Stiles,” states the boy she now wants to call freckles. 

“Thanks for getting our toys back,” Scott says gratefully. “Tony always comes and tries to take the new stuff they put in the sand pit.” 

“He’s rude,” Fallon scoffs. “I don’t like him.”

“None of us do,” Stiles adds sarcastically. “But he beats up the people who don’t listen to him.” 

“Well, not anymore,” Fallon says with her head held high. “If he tries to take your stuff again, I’ll punch him even harder next time. I’ll knock his teeth out and make sure the tooth fairy doesn’t give him money for it.” 

“You can do that?” Both of them asked, completely amazed by the statement that just left her mouth. 

“Mhm,” Fallon nods. “My dad knows her. I can put a good word in for you guys if you want?” 

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims as Scott just nods his head fervently. 

“Do you maybe wanna play with us?” Scott asks, pointing to their designated spot in the sand pit. “We need someone to play with Optimus Prime to complete our game.”

“Really?” Fallon asks with an excited twinkle in her eyes. “You mean it?” 

“Yeah!” Stiles insists, plopping down in his spot. He pats the empty space next to him, “You can sit next to me.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees, falling criss-cross applesauce beside Stiles. Scott sits directly across from them and the trio begins their journey with the Autobots. 

Fallon silently thanks her father for showing her the Transformers movies and the different lore behind them or else she would be completely lost during this interaction. “So,” Stiles begins, “You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” Fallon answers. “I moved here from New York,” she explains. “My dads job moves him around a lot so I’ve been to a lot of places.” 

“Even the moon?” Scott wonders.

Fallon laughs, “Not yet. I hope we don’t go there.” 

“Yeah, that would suck,” Stiles agrees. “You just got here.” 

“My dad said we were gonna stay here,” Fallon shrugs, moving her action figure across the sand. “So hopefully I don’t have to go anywhere for a while. It gets lonely trying to find friends in new schools. It’s hard to talk to other kids,” she admits. 

“You’re talking to us,” Scott points out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she smiles at the two boys. 

“Do you wanna be our new best friend?” Stiles bluntly asks. 

“Stiles,” Scott scolds. “You can’t just ask people to be our best friend. That’s weird. You’re gonna scare her off.” 

“You won’t scare me off,” Fallon shakes her head. “I don’t get scared easily. My dad says I’m super brave. But I would love to be your best friend!” She tells them. “As long as you guys will let me.” 

“See? It’s not weird,” Stiles sticks his tongue out at Scott. “Now we have a new friend.” 

Scott is quick to fly across the sand pit and begin wrestling Stiles. Fallon laughs loudly at the two boys, blocking her face from the sand coming at her. “Guys! Stop!” She giggles. “We only have a couple more minutes before we have to go back inside and we haven’t even finished the story yet.” 

Reluctantly, Scott gets off of Stiles and moves back to his spot in the sand pit so they can continue their game. The boys never thought they’d meet someone who’d fit so seamlessly in their little duo, which now seems to be more of a trio. The three of them laugh together as they come up with random pieces of dialogue for their characters that make absolutely no sense. 

As Scott starts his own monologue with the small action figure in his hand, Stiles finds himself staring at the girl next to him. Small specks of sand in her dark hair, perfectly straight teeth, and choppy bangs covering her forehead. She is really pretty. Maybe as pretty as his little crush, Lydia Martin. 

“Stiles,” Fallon nudges his shoulder with her own. “It’s your turn.” 

The boy blinks before turning his attention back to their game, “Okay. Let’s finish this before Ms. Clifford makes us put everything away.” 

Fallon didn’t realize that at that moment she found herself two true friends. Ones that will stick by her through thick and thin despite the unknown facing them. When they learned that the triangle was the strongest shape in nature, they didn’t know how true that statement was until they looked at each other. Smiling at Stiles and Scott, Fallon felt like Beacon Hills would be her final stop. A place where she could finally put down roots and find her own misfit family. 

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.

Second Chance At First Line 1x02

Episode 3

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

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

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

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

She nods obediently, “Yes, Coach.” 

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

“You alright?” She asks quietly. 

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

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

“Yeah, me too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, McCall!” Coach crouches down and Scott grimaces from pain and embarrassment as he struggles to stand up straight. “My-my grandmother can move faster than that-- and she's dead! You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

“What? Right here? Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not anymore.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But is he gonna play?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone’s behind you. 

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

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

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

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

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Lydia... You probably don't remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology,” Stiles begins awkwardly.

“Oh dear God,” Fallon mumbles, face turning bright red from second hand embarrassment.

Lydia makes a confused face, but doesn’t say anything which encourages him to keep talking. “Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection.” Lydia makes a face as though this surprises her, which gives Stiles the motivation he needs to continue. “Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better…”

All of the sudden, it becomes obvious that Lydia has been on a phone call using a Bluetooth headset this entire time and hasn't been listening– her facial expressions were in response to the phone conversation. Fallon stares at Stiles, wanting to go over to him and pull him away from the situation. She might complain about his complaining, but he’s right. If he needed her to, she’d sit there for hours and listen to him drone on about his heartbreak. That’s just what they do.

“Hold on, gimme a second,” Lydia says to the individual she’s on the phone with. She puts the person on hold before turning her attention to Stiles. “Yeah, I didn’t get anything you just said. Is it worth repeating?” 

Stiles, visibly embarrassed and feeling awkward, tries to get out of this situation by chuckling nervously and going to sit down directly next to Fallon. “No. Sorry, I’ll just sit…” He collapses into the uncomfortable cushion, a defeated look on his face.

Fallon slowly puts her knees down and Stiles huffs, “Alright, you can say it. You told me so and I should’ve listened to you,” he says rather snappy. 

Instead of saying anything, Fallon simply lays her head on his shoulder, looping her arm under his to connect their hands. The left side of Stiles’ body warms at the feeling and he stares at her, a bit surprised. She squeezes his bicep, “I’m sorry, Sti.” 

He tries to act unbothered by waving it off, but she can see the weight it has on him. He snuggles closer to her, laying his head on top of hers. This is as much solace as he’ll be able to get. “It’s okay. Thanks for not rubbing it in.” 

“I might be an ass, but I’m not a complete jerk,” Fallon half smiles. “I am proud that you lasted more than two minutes though. Even though she wasn’t paying attention to anything you said.” 

“You win some you lose some,” he shrugs with a sigh. “And I’ve lost all of them.” 

Scott then finally makes his way around the corner, having escaped the morgue without anyone detecting him. He notices Stiles and Fallon having a quiet conversation and raises an eyebrow at the fact they’re not bickering. He was sure one of them would be in a headlock by the time he got back out. He almost doesn’t want to disturb the scene in front of him, but they don’t exactly have unlimited time. 

He quickly walks over to them, causing the duo to stand up, redirecting their attention to him. “The scent was the same,” he tells them, not even trying to sugar-coat it.

Fallon looks down. There’s no way Derek is a killer. A creep, sure. But he doesn’t seem like a murderer. She glances at Scott, “You’re sure?” 

He nods, “Yes.” 

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property?” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Which means we have proof that he killed the girl.” 

“Okay, but do we really think it’s a good idea to just blindly accuse the guy? I mean, Scotty, what if your sniffer is off or something? We don’t exactly know how this whole werewolf scent thing works,” Fallon says. 

“I know what I smelled,” Scott assures her. “It’s not just similar, it’s the exact same.” 

Stiles begins walking towards the exit, “We have the evidence we need to put him away. I say we use it.” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows, “How?” 

Stiles sighs and stops, turning to face his two friends. He sends them a serious expression to make sure what they’re about to do is for the right reasons. “Tell me something first–” he focuses on Scott. “Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?” 

Though it's clear by the look on Scott's face that both of the offered options are true, he goes with the first one to appease Stiles and Fallon who are staring at him expectantly. “There are bite marks on the legs, guys– bite marks.” 

The two of them aren’t fully convinced, but the thought of that poor girl getting ripped apart overpowers their suspicions of Scott’s true priorities. “Okay,” Stiles nods. “Then we’re gonna need a shovel… Or three.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Night has officially fallen over Beacon Hills, causing an eerie feeling to creep up Fallon’s spine as they wait for Derek to leave the burnt up Hale house. She nervously bites her nails while simultaneously tugging on the sleeves of her hoodie. Stiles and Scott are quietly conversing up front, careful not to make too much noise just in case Derek can pick up on their presence. 

After a few more moments, Derek, who is in a tight white t-shirt and separate black leather jacket from the one he gave Fallon. He opens the door of his slick black Camaro and jumps in, starting the engine before driving off the property. She doesn’t know if this classifies as stalking, but watching him from a distance in the dark, waiting for him to leave his house seems pretty criminal to her. 

As soon as Derek is far enough away, Stiles immediately pulls his Jeep closer to the house. He parks with a little too much excitement to be looking for a dead body. Scott hops out of his side before opening the door for Fallon, helping her out of the car. She shoots him a tight-lipped smile, grabbing her own shovel and flashlight. 

They meet Stiles at the front of the Jeep before venturing off to the side of the house where the recently overturned patch of earth is located. Fallon waves her flashlight around the area, trying to make sure no other creatures of the night have the opportunity to pounce on them. 

Scott sticks his nose in the air, “Wait, something’s different.” 

“Different how?” Stiles asks, voice uneasy. 

“I don’t know…” Scott trails off unsurely. 

The three of them finally reach the supposed gravesite and Fallon aims her shovel towards the ground. “Let’s just get this over with,” she says, trying to hold back the bile threatening to rise up her throat. “Before I decide to bury one of you instead.”

She jams the head of her shovel into the ground, stomping the spade-end with her foot to push it in further before scooping up some dirt and throwing it aside. The boys follow her lead, both sharing a scared look at her empty threat. They know she wouldn’t do it, but it still doesn’t make her any less scary. 

The three of them work in silence for several minutes, the only sound being heard is their heavy breathing and the different birds singing in the distance. Fallon wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead, wishing that she was in the comfort of her own bed by now. Getting up for school is going to be a challenge tomorrow. 

“This is taking way too long,” Scott speaks up nervously, pausing his digging to voice his concerns. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, not deterring from his quick pace, “Just keep going.” 

Fallon stops as well, understanding Scott’s worries. “He’s right. What if Derek comes back and we’re sitting here digging a six foot grave in his backyard? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of intimidating.” 

“Okay, first of all, Derek’s the one who already dug the six foot grave when he put the body down here. We’re just digging it back up. Second of all, since when are you intimidated by anyone?” Stiles scoffs, chucking more dirt to the side.

“Since he’s a six foot tall werewolf who could probably crush my windpipe with his index finger,” she quips back without missing a beat. 

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly making Scott and Fallon look at him exasperatedly. Stiles groans, “Look, if he comes back, we’ll just get the hell out of here,” he answers as if it’s just that simple.

“What if he catches us?” Scott continues to question him as they resume digging. 

“I have a plan for that.” 

Fallon raises her brows, “Which is what exactly?” 

Stiles stops his movements, leading his friends to do the exact same. He stares at them both with a straight face, “You run one way, Fallon runs over there, and I run that way. Whoever he catches first? Too bad.” He shrugs once again like it’s no big deal and gets back to the task at hand. Fallon grumbles lowly, threatening to hit him on the back of the head with her shovel if it comes to it. 

“I hate that plan,” Scott huffs. 

Scott dumps another scoop of dirt to the side and is about to dig in again when Fallon's shovel hits something solid, causing Stiles to raise his left hand and hold it out in front of Scott to keep him from moving. “Oh, stop, stop, stop.” He flails around, trying to prevent any more movement. 

Fallon’s throat drops into her stomach. Her heart has to be beating at a million miles per second. This could be a literal dead body. When they all look down, they see several twine rope strings poking out of the earth, and the three of them kneel down so they can brush the dirt away with their bare hands. They eventually uncover what looks like a bundle of rough fabric, like burlap, which has been tied closed with the twine rope. Stiles starts to try to untie the bindings, while Scott and Fallon sit still because they are still on edge with fear that Derek is going to come back and catch them. 

Impatiently, Scott tries to urge Stiles on, “Hurry!” He commands. 

“I’m trying,” Stiles responds, irritated by Scott’s nerves. “Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine-hundred knots?” He curses Derek’s existence through the sardonic question. 

“I’ll do it,” Fallon snaps, gripping the rope with her own hands. Scott also reaches down to help. Stiles is on the far right end, Scott on the left, while Fallon works in the middle. After a long moment, they manage to get it all unknotted, and they open the bundle to find what looks like a severed head of a black wolf. This scares the teens so badly that they all scream loudly and leap out of the grave, Stiles and Scott land on their butts while Fallon lands on her back. They get up as fast as they can, trying to scurry away from the half of the wolf corpse. In the foreground, a flowering plant with purple petals is sprouting out of the ground. Fallon’s eyes are drawn to the gorgeous flower. Its color glowing in the pale moonlight. She fights the urge to touch it as Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“What the hell is that?” He exclaims loudly. 

“It’s a wolf,” Scott answers.

“Yeah, I think we can see that,” Fallon says sarcastically. She looks over at Scott, “You told us you could smell blood. Human blood. And that it matched the girl at the morgue. This,” she points to the dead wolf, “doesn’t look like it matches her, let alone any human for that matter.” 

Scott shrugs before throwing his hands up, not knowing what else to say. “I told you guys something was different.”

Stiles, completely dumbfounded, throws his hands up incredulously. “This doesn’t make sense.” 

“Okay, we really gotta get out of here,” Fallon says urgently. She can’t explain it, but she can’t help feeling that Derek is going to return any minute. 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Okay, help me cover this up.” 

Stiles moves to start pushing the dirt back into the grave with his hands, Scott and Fallon following suit. The brunette girl cringes when looking at the dead wolf body below her. The poor thing. She’s just curious as to why Derek buried it in the first place. 

Stiles’ movements suddenly stop causing Fallon to look at him weirdly. She follows his line of vision back to the purple plant she was looking at a few moments prior. “What’s wrong?” She asks him. “Is there something up with the flower?” 

Scott furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Why would there be something wrong with a flower?” 

“I think it’s wolfsbane,” Stiles reveals cautiously. “So it’s not necessarily what’s wrong with it, but what could be wrong with what it does.” 

Their werewolf friend frowns, “What does that even mean?”

Fallon picks up on what Stiles is putting down. She remembers reading about wolfsbane in the book she did her research in at Stiles’ house. Freckles scoffs at Scott’s blatant ignorance to his situation, “Uh, haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” 

Scott shakes his head, “No.”

“Lon Chaney, Junior? Claude Rains?” He spits out the actors names, trying to jog any sort of memory out of Scott. 

Scott denies ever seeing the movies once more, but more impatiently this time. Stiles grows even more exasperated as Fallon watches with amusement. “The original, classic Werewolf movie?” 

Growing tired of the incessant questioning, Scott sighs loudly. Not wanting anyone to start yelling, Fallon puts her hand on Stiles’ arm, “I think it’s safe to say he hasn’t seen it,” she tells him. 

Stiles makes an almost disgusted face when looking at Scott. The boy across from him loses his patience, “What?!”

Stiles scoffs, completely appalled by Scott’s lack of knowledge in classic films. “You are so unprepared for this.” He pushes himself up to his feet, walking over to the flower. “I try to invite you to movie nights with Fallon and I, but no, you never come. Which is why we know what’s going on and you don’t.” He takes a hold of the purple flower, pulling the entire thing up by its roots. They all gasp when seeing that the base of the plant has more of the twine rope tied around it, which is also buried underground. Fallon and Scott watch as he gently continues pulling the twine out of the ground in a spiral. She honestly doesn’t believe it’s going to end with how many circles he’s made and how much of the rope is spilling out of his hands. 

There are randomly placed wolfsbane petals attached at various points along the length of it, only to find it is connected to the bundle of burlap around the wolf's head. Scott and Fallon look at Stiles with a skeptical expression, confused as to why they're wasting their time with this, when suddenly, they look down and are startled back onto their feet by what he finds in the grave.

Fallon covers her mouth to prevent the shriek that threatens to escape her lips. She immediately clutches onto Scott, her lip quivering as she glances over to Stiles who still has no idea. “Sti…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

Stiles turns around, alarmed by her sudden change in demeanor. He sees her and Scott staring into the grave with nothing but shock and horror written on their faces. He walks over to where they are so he can see from their vantage point. When he follows their line of sight, a loud yelp leaves his mouth as he jumps backwards. He clings onto Scott and Fallon, trying to steady himself. 

“Oh!” 

Where there once was a half dead wolf, now lays the top part of a human female body. The same body they went searching for just mere nights ago. She stared up into the sky, lips parted as if she’s silently screaming for help. Fallon feels the need to do the same as the woman’s lifeless eyes bore holes into her soul. 

“Leave. Now. Please?” Fallon taps Scott’s arm repeatedly, unable to form full sentences. He nods his head and the three of them run over to the Jeep, getting as far away from the scene as possible.

She couldn’t believe it. There’s no way Derek Hale could be a murderer. Could he?

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The following morning, Stiles was quick to barge into Fallon’s room, not bothering to knock on her house or room door. Her father must’ve already been at work or Stiles would not have been able to come in so easily. Michael would’ve already tried to feed him breakfast and ask him his plans for the day before he could even reach the stairs that led to Fallon’s room. 

She groans loudly as he jumps on top of her, repeatedly telling her to get up and get dressed. Reluctantly, she throws her warm covers off of her body, but not before smacking Stiles upside the head, eliciting a string of complaints from the boy. She smiles cockily before moving to get ready for whatever adventure he’s dragging her out to. 

“Scott’s already in the car, so hurry up.” 

And that she did. She threw on a navy blue turtleneck and black jeans, tucking her shirt in. She puts her hair up into a quick ponytail and brushes her teeth. She doesn’t bother grabbing food or anything else, figuring she could force the boys to treat her to breakfast after breaking into her house and forcing her to leave. 

It's not long before Stiles pulls up to the Hale house property which is now surrounded with Sheriff's deputies and many other on duty cops. Fallon scoffs, “Okay, you did not tell me we were coming back here.” 

“You didn’t ask,” Stiles shrugs. “Now come on,” he only grabs Fallon’s arm, forcing Scott to stay by the jeep to be the lookout. No doubt some form of payback after the morgue incident. 

He guides them to the side of the house, hiding them from plain sight. She smacks his arm, “You owe me pancakes after this,” she growls. “At this rate, we’re gonna be the ones in the back of that cop car, not Derek.” 

Right as she says this, Derek gets marched out of the house in handcuffs by one of the Beacon County deputies. Derek looks over at Scott with a scowl that causes the young boy to look down at the ground with an expression of mixed guilt and shame as Derek is pushed into the back of a deputy's cruiser. 

“You have no idea how true that statement actually is,” Stiles retorts before once again dragging her across the front yard. Her eyes widen when she realizes that they’re approaching the exact cruiser Derek was just put in. 

She shakes her head, trying to rip her wrist from his grip, “Sti– Stiles, no! Let me go! Sto– Stiles!” 

She struggles but ultimately gives up as he slides into the front seat, forcing her to guard the window so no one could see him talking to Derek. The window is slightly cracked so she puts her face as close as possible to mutter, “I am going to murder you the second you step out of this car.” 

The boy swallows thickly at the deadly look in her eyes. Derek’s own gaze flickers between the two, an ungodly annoyance filling his system at the sight of Stiles. But there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes when he hears Fallon’s words. 

“She’s telling the truth,” Derek reveals, causing Stiles to jump. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters, shuffling away from the door. Fallon sends him one last withering glare before turning around and doing what he wanted in the first place. 

“I really need to stop enabling his behavior,” she grumbles. 

Stiles turns around so he can face Derek fully. He places his face close to the cage that separates the front seat from the back. Fallon can hear how nervous he is just by his rambling. Her threat to his life probably didn’t make this confrontation any easier. 

“Okay, just so you know, I'm not afraid of you.” Derek's head is tilted down, but his eyes move up to look at Stiles through his eyelashes with a scowl that immediately terrifies Stiles. “…Okay, maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something.” He shifts nervously in his seat making Fallon tap impatiently on the glass, signaling for him to start wrapping things up as the cops are starting to head to their cars. “The girl you killed? She was a werewolf.” 

No response. Derek’s scowl remains in place, his glare only becoming more heated the longer Stiles continues. “She was a different kind, wasn't she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?”

Derek finally decides to speak, his tone is understandably irritated given the current situation. Fallon would smack Stiles if she could reach him. “Why are you so worried about me, when it's your guys’ friend who’s the problem?” There’s a small pause and Fallon hears a bit of movement which she assumes is coming from Derek. “When he shifts on the field, what do you think they’re gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on?” 

“I can’t stop him from playing, but you can…” Fallon isn’t able to hear the rest of Derek’s sentence as Sheriff Stilinski approaches her with a knowing yet disappointed smile.

“Fallon,” he greets fondly.

“Sheriff,” she replies with her own nervous smile. Her tone is sickly sweet, trying to deter any suspicions from Stiles who is only hidden by the fact she’s leaning on the window. “Uhm, how’s your shift been? Long I’m assuming, y’know… ‘cause all the murder and stuff.” She was unsure of how to proceed, deducing by the look on his face that he knows Stiles is directly behind her.

He sighs before looking between Scott and his own son, “You know they’re just dragging you down right?” He tells her with a serious expression. “You’ve got so much potential. Don’t let those two idiots ruin it,” he practically begs her. 

Fallon exhales before stepping out of his way, “I think we’re already past that point,” she replies glumly watching as the man yanks his son out of the cruiser. 

Noah drags Stiles off to the side as far away from Derek as possible, leaving Fallon by herself next to the soon-to-be person of interest. She goes to walk away, but Derek’s voice stops her. “You need to help your friend.” She looks back at him and then to Stiles. Derek rolls his eyes, “Not that one. Scott,” he clarifies. She nods in understanding, moving closer to the window. She crouches down to eye level, their faces a bit too close, but it’s for discretion. “Out of the three of you, you seem to be the one with the brain. So do the smart thing and find a way to help him.”

“I’ve been trying,” Fallon says honestly. “He doesn’t exactly listen to me. I’m not a werewolf expert. I don’t really know how to help.” 

“Just keep him from playing on Saturday,” he commands her. 

She nods understandingly, “I can try to convince Coach,” she says. “But I can’t promise he’ll go for it.” 

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Derek shrugs. “If you don’t want to see someone dead on that field, keep him away from the game.” 

“Okay,” Fallon agrees. A moment of silence passes between them. Derek just stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to do something. She fidgets with her fingers before voicing her thoughts, “And for the record, I don’t actually think you killed anyone,” she admits meekly. 

Derek’s face contorts into surprise for a fleeting second. He covers it up by just raising his eyebrows, “And how can you be so sure?” He asks, trying to keep his intimidating facade up. 

“I just have a feeling about you,” Fallon says honestly. “You don’t really strike me as the murderer type,” she smiles slightly. “Despite the big brooding man thing you have going on.” 

“You’d be surprised to find out what people are capable of.” 

“Well, if you’d like to inform me more on people,” she emphasizes the last word to show that she’s referring to just him. “My bedroom window is on the left side of my house, second story. Y’know since apparently you have a thing for sneaking into people’s rooms,” she teases, bringing up what he did at Scott’s. 

Derek has no words. His frown is still plastered on his face as he stares at the girl who he can only describe as an enigma. It’s baffling how she can go from timid and shy to confident and bold within seconds. She doesn’t wait for him to respond, walking over to where both of the Stilinski men are. 

“So, you lied to me,” Sheriff crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at his son. 

Fallon freezes in her spot, suddenly feeling very awkward. Stiles is quick to pull her next to him, needing a physical representation of someone who is on his side. Which she is, unless Noah gives her his disappointed dad look. Then she’ll abandon her best friend in a heartbeat. 

Stiles awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “Well, that depends on how you define lying…”

Sheriff Stilinski is quickly running out of patience, “Well, I define it as ‘not telling the truth.’ How do you define it?” He says sassily.

“Um… ‘reclining your body in a… horizontal… position?” The way he phrases it makes his statement sound more like a question. But Fallon has to admit, he’s not wrong. She covers her mouth politely to cover the small giggles leaving her lips. 

Sheriff just waves his hand in the air, completely over his son’s antics. “Get the hell out of here.” 

Eager to get out of the tense situation, Stiles grips Fallon’s hand before darting back over to the jeep, “Absolutely.” 

“Bye Sheriff!” Fallon waves. 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     “I really don’t understand why I’m always in the back seat,” Fallon complains as Stiles speeds out of the woods. “Why can’t Scott and I switch every once and a while?” 

“Because, you were the newbie in this friendship, remember? The OG’s get the front. You’re like Scott and I’s adopted child that we picked up from the side of the road,” Stiles explains. “Abandoned and in desperate need of attention.” 

“I’ve been friends with you both for seven years,” she deapans. “And if anyone is desperate for attention Stiles, it’s you.” 

The muscle in Stiles’ jaw ticks before aggressively pointing back at her without tearing his eyes from the road. “And you’re mean. Did I mention that? You’re mean. That’s why you sit in the back. So I’m not forced to throat punch you.”  

Fallon rolls her eyes, sinking into her seat. He’s not wrong, hence why she can’t come up with an argument against it. Scott sighs, his head pushed against the window of the jeep. He throws his phone down in his lap, “I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial.” 

“Just keep looking,” Stiles encourages. “Maybe it’s like a ritual or something? Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf,” he suggests, trying to come up with his own explanation for what they found. 

“It could also be a special skill or something,” Fallon chimes in, leaning forward. “Like something a werewolf has to learn how to do.” 

Scott rolls his eyes, getting overwhelmed with all the werewolf business. He grits his teeth before muttering under his breath, “I’ll put it on my ‘To Do List’ right underneath ‘figuring out how the hell I’m playing in this game tonight.’”

The more Scott speaks, the breathier he becomes. Fallon notices him wincing slightly with every movement. She furrows her eyebrows, placing her hand on his shoulder. He tenses under touch which never happens. The brunette goes to ask if he’s okay but is stopped by Stiles speaking. “Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves…” he proposes, still distracted by his own hypothesis. 

Scott’s irritation has seemed to reach an all time high. He loses his patience entirely and snaps at Stiles, “Okay, stop it!” 

Stiles frowns in confusion, “Stop what?” 

“Stop saying werewolves! Stop enjoying this so much!” Scott yells loudly, ripping his shoulder from Fallon’s hand. 

Neither Fallon or Stiles knows what caused this sudden change in behavior. He was calm before they got in the car. “I don’t think any of us enjoy trying to keep you from killing someone,” Fallon mumbles. 

Stiles however looks at his friend with concern, “Are you okay?” 

“No!” Scott’s tone shifts to a much darker aggravation making both Stiles and Fallon share a wary glance. Scott out of nowhere doubles over in his seat as if he’s in excruciating pain. “No, I’m not! I’m so far from being okay!” 

The werewolf begins to hyperventilate, clutching at his own chest. Stiles gets an idea as to what this sudden outburst could be about so he goes to reassure Scott, “You know, you’re going to have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later. 

“I can’t,” Scott’s face contorts with pain as he writhes wildly in his seat. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Stiles scoffs.

“No!” Scott shakes his head, correcting him. “I can’t breathe…”

Fallon surges forward, her overprotective instincts kicking in. “Why? Are you having a panic attack? Asthma attack? Do you need me to get your inhaler?” Scott simply shakes his head at all of her questions. She genuinely doesn’t know what could be wrong with him. She hasn’t seen him struggle to breathe like this any other time. 

“AHH!” Scott screams, making both of his friends flinch as he pounds his hand against the roof of the jeep. There is definitely strong werewolf undertones in his voice as it deepens multiple octaves. “AHH! Pull over!” He commands.

Stiles, who is completely alarmed, swerves the car out of shock. The sudden jerk makes Scott grimace in even more pain. He faces Scott fully, trying to figure out how to help. “Why? What’s happening?” 

Scott instinctively opens the backpack between them and is horrified to see that the wolfsbane plant and the rope with the flowers attached to it are inside. He looks at Stiles incredulously, “You kept it?” He seethes.

Stiles starts freaking out as well, not knowing how to handle the stressful situation. “What was I supposed to do with it?” He yells back.

“Leave it at the crime scene!” Fallon screams, obviously.

The close proximity with the poisonous plant only makes Scott sicker as time goes on. He forces his hands into fists, his claws starting to pierce the skin of his hand. He’s about to shift. “Stop the car!” 

Both Fallon and Stiles are petrified as Scott’s eyes turn into a golden yellow. Fallon slaps her human friend's arm, “Pull over!” She begs him. 

“Okay!” He exclaims, pulling the car off to the side, slamming on the brakes as he does so. As soon as the car is in park, Stiles grabs his backpack and throws himself sloppily out of the Jeep, running toward the edge of the woods. He uses what little strength he has to toss the bag as far as he can to get as much distance between it and Scott as possible. Once it's out of eyesight, Stiles throws his head back and sighs deeply before turning back toward the Jeep.

“Okay, we’re good, you can–”

He looks up and is completely horrified to see only Fallon sitting in his Jeep, her face a pale white. She looks at him, the only emotion evident on her face is concern. “He’s gone…”

Stiles wastes no time before clambering into his jeep and slamming the door shut. He allows Fallon time to jump over the center console, joining him in the front. She buckles the seatbelt in the passenger seat as he immediately takes off from his parked position. 

“We need to find him,” Fallon looks at the side of his face. “Before he tries to have an early dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Once he gets a grip on it, he hands it to Fallon. “Dial the number for the Sheriff’s station. If he’s done any serious damage they would’ve gotten a call by now.” 

She nods her head, fingers shaking as she looks for the number in Stiles’ contacts. She presses the button, putting it on speaker for him to talk to whichever dispatcher answers. As soon as the woman hears his voice, she’s immediately annoyed with the first sentence that escapes his mouth. 

“Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty,” she says from the other side of the phone. 

Stiles huffs loudly, “I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls…?”

“Odd how?” 

“Uh, like, an odd person, or…” Stiles struggles to come up with an example that doesn't sound like he's trying to find out if anyone has seen a Werewolf running through Beacon Hills. “A dog-like individual roaming the streets…?”

“That happens to look oddly similar to Scott,” Fallon suggests to the dispatcher. “Just a tad more facial hair that he’ll never be able to have.” 

The dispatcher runs out of patience for the two, putting an end to their conversation. “I’m hanging up on you now.” 

“No! Wai-wai-wai-wai-wait!” 

“Goodbye,” and with that the line goes dead. 

Fallon watches as Stiles clenches his fists around the steering wheel, hitting it out of frustration “Damn it!” He exclaims. 

“Hey,” Fallon stops him, grabbing one of his hands. She rubs a finger over his bright red knuckles. “We’ll find him, Sti. He’ll be okay.” 

The boy sighs, allowing her to calm him down. “Let’s just hope it’s before we find another dead body.” 

         · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The nighttime air is crisp, sending a comforting chill down Fallon’s back as she sits on the bench with Danny, retying her shoelaces before going out onto the field. It's finally game night. The brunette is slightly nervous watching Scott and Stiles walk out to join the rest of the team. Luckily, Scott hadn’t tried to kill anyone on his latest rampage around town. He apparently just ended up jumping onto Chris Argent’s car after creepily staring at Allison through her window. 

“You okay?” Danny nudges her shoulder. “You look upset or something.” 

She shakes her head with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Just super excited to play,” she tries to convince.

By the look on his face, he doesn’t buy it in the slightest. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He reminds her. “I know you classify those two as your best friends,” he points to Scott and Stiles, “but you still got me if you ever need a break from… whatever that is.” She follows his gaze, grimacing as Stiles continuously berates Scott. 

For a moment, a genuine smile takes over her face. She nods in appreciation, “Thanks, Danny. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he pats her back affectionately before standing up and walking over to the goal. 

Fallon takes her own leave, standing up and traveling over to Scott and Stiles who have just joined the rest of the team on the sidelines. The bleachers are full of spectators excited for the Beacon Hills Cyclones' first real game of the season, and both teams are milling around on their respective sidelines as the referee gets in position on the field. She smiles when she notices Melissa and her dad sitting next to each other on the bleachers, engaged in what must be a very entertaining conversation. 

Allison and her father also enter the stands, the former waving enthusiastically at Fallon, holding her popcorn in her other hand. Chris smiles and nods at the girl as well, making Fallon’s nerves skyrocket as she pictures him with an automatic rifle in his hand. Then she remembers she’s going home with them after the game, her overnight bag shoved inside her gym locker. 

“Scott!” Lydia’s voice rings out causing the trio to look in the direction she’s coming from. There’s a certain confidence in her step, a plethora of threats no doubt about to leave her lips as she grips the boy by the collar of his jersey. 

Fallon watches as a jealous expression takes over Stiles’ face. She takes a step forward, leaning into his side. “Down boy,” she whispers. He bites the inside of his cheek but simply wraps his arm around Fallon, pretending the sight doesn’t irritate the living hell out of him. 

“I just want you to remember one thing for tonight…” 

Obviously uncomfortable by Lydia's close proximity and aggressive tone of voice, Scott looks down at her hand, which is still gripping his jersey, and responds nervously, “Uh... w-winning isn't everything?” 

Lydia chuckles sarcastically before letting go of his jersey and smoothing out the wrinkles, straightening his shirt sleeves before answering him. “Nobody likes a loser.” She patronizingly pats his chest before turning to take her seat with Allison and her father. 

Scott shakes his head from the encounter, going to sit down with Fallon and Stiles. He blows out a puff of air, “She’s scary,” he tells them, eyes blown wide. “If Derek doesn’t kill me for playing, she’ll definitely kill me for not playing.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, his eyes following after the redhead. “But she’s hot so it doesn’t matter.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Fallon says with a grossed out expression. 

“At least I don’t find a murderer who buried the body on his property attractive,” he spats back, referring to her comment about Derek in the woods. 

“Why are you acting like you didn’t find him hot too?” She quirks a brow. Stiles opens his mouth and closes it, not able to find a good retort. She smirks, readying her lacrosse stick, “That’s what I thought.” 

The referee blows his whistle causing both teams to charge out onto the field from their respective sides. Loud cheers emanate throughout the crowd as the starting players get into their assigned positions. Fallon takes her spot near Jackson, the two fist bumping as they get ready to play. She keeps a close eye on Scott, watching as he mumbles something under his breath. 

“You’ll be okay,” she whispers, knowing he’ll hear her. “Just try to keep your heart rate down.”

He barely glances in her direction, but she doesn’t miss the grateful smile he sends her. His stature becomes slightly more confident as the crowd continues to whistle and cheer loudly. It’s not long before the referee steps forward, placing the ball between Jackson and one of the players on the opposing team. 

“Down!” He orders them into position. Jackson and the other boy do as they’re told, crouching with their lacrosse sticks touching the ground. “Set!” The ref gives the final warning before the game starts, then the whistle blows. 

Jackson easily scoops up the ball, barely giving the boy in front of him a chance to blink. Fallon follows after the blonde boy, blocking for him as the other players try to knock him down. She manages to lose the player guarding her, freeing herself up for a pass. 

“Jackson!” She yells out at the same time Scott does. 

Scott’s wide open as well with no one coming after him. Fallon swerves to the side, trying to avoid another oncoming player that’s after her. She hopes Jackson takes the opportunity to pass to Scott as she now has more people blocking her. To her dismay, Jackson completely ignores Scott and tosses the ball to her. She grunts before managing to maneuver her way out of the trap the opposing player put her in. The ball lands in her net perfectly. Fallon turns to pass to Scott, but is stopped by player twenty-six on their team, taking the ball from her. 

She furrows her eyebrows, not understanding why he would do that. She shakes off her confusion before continuing her fast pace. Scott once again shouts for them to hand him the ball, but is completely ignored. Suddenly it makes sense to Fallon. They’re doing this on purpose as revenge for Jackson. She rolls her eyes, determined to get Scott the ball at least once during this game. 

Twenty-six throws the ball to another player who has at least three guards on him. Understandably, he misses the catch, giving the other team a perfect chance to swoop up the ball and head in the other direction. 

Scott throws his arms up frustratedly, “Are you kidding me?!” 

The Cyclones manage to get the ball back with number twenty catching the ball and passing it to Jackson. However, Jackson ends up getting slide-tackled, hard, which causes the ball to fly out of his lacrosse stick. Fallon and Scott seem to have the same idea as they see the white ball sitting idly on the grass. She nods at him, silently communicating that she’ll block for him if he wants to go for it. Unfortunately, Jackson sees the small interaction which causes the blonde to shoot up and dart for the ball himself, not wanting Scott to have any of the glory. 

The three of them all begin running towards the ball. Right as Scott is about to scoop it up, Jackson shoves him aside so that he’s able to regain possession of the ball. Scott falls to the ground with enough force that he rolls over several times. Fallon watches angrily as Jackson runs to score the first point of the game. She scoffs at his behavior, but diverts her attention over to Scott. She walks up to him, helping him on his feet. 

“Don’t worry,” she grumbles. “We’ll kick his ass.” 

The crowd in the bleachers starts to stand and cheer, while Stiles watches apprehensively, afraid that the unfair treatment towards Scott will cause him to inadvertently shift on the field. Coach, however, is thrilled by the fact that they scored the first goal of the game and screams from the sidelines, “That's it, Jackson! Get fired up! Fired up!”

It seems now that the rest of the team is purposely ignoring Fallon as well, seeing as she tried to pass to Scott. She waits patiently to hear what Scott has to say as he’s the one who can hear what they’re talking about in the huddle. 

Fallon can hear Lydia loud and clear from the stands. She’s standing on her feet, forcing Allison to hold up a sign that says We Luv U Jackson. Watching Scott’s reaction made her frown. She rubs his back, “Ignore her. We’ve got this. Seriously, don’t let it bother you,” she warns. “We have bigger fish to fry.” 

Scott grumbles under his breath but goes back to listening to the other players. Fallon stays quiet to allow him to hear and isn’t surprised by the information he reveals when he turns to face her. “They were keeping it from me on purpose. And now, they’re doing it to you too.” 

She glares in Jackson’s direction who doesn’t even seem to notice her death stare. They’ve always gotten along as teammates so it makes her furious to see he’s icing her out just because he has a weird need to be in the spotlight. When she glances back at Scott, his eyes flash yellow, and his fangs slowly begin to poke out beyond his lips. She tries to grip his shoulders to calm him, but he’s already storming away from her, getting into formation. 

“Crap…” Fallon huffs. She shakes her head, running back to her own spot as well. Her eyes constantly travel over to Scott, her nerves at their peak at watching him in the process of shifting midgame. 

Allison and Lydia once again hold up the sign, cheering on Jackson. Fallon shakes her head as Scott’s eyes flash yellow again. Lydia really knows how to get under people’s skin. 

“Down! Set!” 

The whistle blows making everyone get ready to try and gain possession of the ball. The two players at the ball come to a stalemate, neither one able to push past the other to grab the ball. The force of having two lacrosse sticks with pressure from opposing sides causes the ball to fly haphazardly into the air. Fallon takes this as an opportunity to help Scott. She darts forward, somehow managing to jump over the heads of the other players, using her smaller stature to gain more height. She makes eye contact with Scott and both of them immediately start running as fast as they can towards the goal.

She deftly dodges a few players, smiling as she hears her father, Melissa, and Sheriff Stilinski cheer in the distance. Seeing a few more players chasing after her, she throws the ball towards Scott who continues the journey. He ducks, weaves, and spins around the other players. He easily slides the ball into the net causing the crowd to jump on their feet ecstatically. 

Fallon runs up to him, the two chest bumping confidently. He wraps his arm around her as they run back to the center of the field, high-fiving their teammates who congratulate them on their play. Both of them find it rather amusing as they were just conspiring against them moments ago. 

“McCall and Donovan!” Coach screams. “Pass. To. McCall and Donovan!” 

The brunette girl smirks smugly seeing how furious Jackson is over the attention being shifted from him to Scott. Everyone returns to midfield, getting in position as the referee gets ready to blow the whistle. Once he does, another stalemate ensues before number forty-three on the opposing team snatches the ball and heads towards their goal. 

Unfortunately, he gets right into Scott’s line of sight. Fallon watches as the boy terrifiedly tosses the ball deliberately into Scott’s net. She can only assume some of his werewolf-itude is what caused the sudden change in ferocity from the other player. She doesn’t take enough time to question it though, focusing on helping Scott make another goal. 

Scott rushes down the field, ducking to avoid any incoming blows from the other team. He runs in a zig-zag pattern, his newfound confidence and skill starting to border the line between natural and supernatural. He takes his shot, throwing the ball so hard that it tears directly through another player's net and flies straight into the goal. Fallon’s jaw drops. How on earth could they explain that? 

With the past two goals, the score is now five to five with only thirty-nine seconds left in the final quarter. Tensions and spirits are high as both teams are desperate to bring home this win for their individual school. Fallon isn’t quite sure if Scott is going to make it through this game without fully shifting. Her and Stiles exchange worried looks, which seems to be the only look they’ve been able to send each other recently. He nods at her, encouraging her to continue playing. She sighs, getting back into her starting position. She tries to ignore Scott’s heavy breathing, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that his canine teeth are now actually as sharp as an animals. 

The chirp of a whistle causes Jackson and the opposing player to fight for possession, which ends up with the latter getting the ball. However, his journey down the field is short as he drops the ball. Scott manages to snag it and starts running the other way but suddenly stops. He freezes in place causing everyone in the team and in the stands to start shouting at him. 

“No, no…” Fallon starts inching towards him. “Scott, come on.” 

The clock ticks down to seventeen seconds and the other team starts circling Scott like sharks, trying to get the ball back. “Scott!” She shouts. “Pass the ball! Look at me! Pass the ball!” 

Time is fleeting fast as the girl bounces around the field. She prays that something inside Scott’s mind snaps and he gets back into the game. And somehow, her prayer is answered. His eyes snap up, the golden tint gone as he throws the ball over the heads of the oncoming players and directly into Fallon’s net. 

She acts quick on her feet, knowing that they don’t have much time left. She approaches the goalie, the boy looking slightly terrified by her determined demeanor. Fallon spins, using all of her might to throw the ball into the net. The goalie actually flinches at the amount of force applied to the ball. His net comes nowhere near her shot, missing it completely as it makes it perfectly into the goal. 

The referee blows his whistle just as the buzzer sounds that the game has timed-out, leading all of the supporters of the Beacon Hills Cyclones to leap to their feet and cheer ecstatically, thrilled to see the final score is six to five with Beacon Hills winning the game

Fallon wants to focus on the fact she just scored the game winning point, but her mind is immediately drawn to Scott. She looks over her shoulder and through the masses of people trying to find her best friend, or maybe Stiles. When she finally finds the boy she’s looking for, he’s darting off towards the school. The need to go after him is strong, but if he’s about to shift it would be a better idea if she had some backup.

“Stiles!” Fallon shouts, politely thanking people who congratulate her on the game. She weaves in and out of the crowd, finally reaching the bench where he is. “We need to go,” she tells him with a serious expression. “Now.” 

“Hold on,” the boy mumbles, looking at his dad curiously who is on the phone. 

The girl huffs frustratedly, but knows better than to stop Stiles’ snooping. She waits patiently, hugging her dad and Melissa who have come up to tell her how great she did. She’s a tad surprised though when Chris Argent approaches her with an almost calculated smile. 

“That was some impressive stuff,” he compliments. “Allison wasn’t kidding when she said you were good.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Fallon says appreciatively. “I’m glad you could come.” 

“Yeah, me too,” his voice sounds almost distant. “So, your teammate, McCall is it? He had some pretty interesting moves…”

Fallon swallows thickly, “Uh, y-yeah. Scott’s pretty good at what he does.” 

“Yeah,” his eyes are still focused on something in the distance. “Well, I’m looking forward to having more of a formal introduction with you this evening. That is if you still plan on coming over? I know Allison was really looking forward to it.”

His blue eyes are piercing through her soul. She chuckles awkwardly, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m really excited. I’ll be there, just after I change and stuff. Don’t wanna stink up your guys’ house,” she jokes in attempts to gain some oxygen back that’s been stolen from her lungs by the tense conversation. 

“Perfect,” he pats her back. “Congratulations again, by the way. I look forward to seeing more games.” 

And with that, he walks away from her. Fallon lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. When she finally turns around to talk to Stiles, his face represents how she feels on the inside. She furrows her eyebrows, “What’s wrong?” 

Stiles hesitantly makes eye contact with her, not really sure how to say his next sentence. “They let Derek out of jail…” he trails off, his mind still trying to process all of the information. 

“What?” Fallon tilts her head. She didn’t necessarily think he did it, but finding the body on his property was pretty damning evidence. It shouldn’t have taken just a few short days to get him off that easily. 

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “And the real kick to the nuts is that my dad ID’d the dead girl. Laura Hale. His sister.” 

Fallon’s mouth goes dry as she tries to find the right words to say. “That would kind of explain the makeshift burial,” she says weakly. 

Stiles just narrows his eyes at her, not knowing if he’s more appalled learning the dead girl was Derek’s sister or the fact his best friend just tried to justify it. He decides it can be both. “C’mon,” he grabs her hand. “We’ve gotta tell Scott.”

Pack Mentality 1x03

Episode 4

     “So you killed her?” Stiles asks bluntly, opening up the door to the school so he, Scott, and Fallon could walk in. Scott had just finished explaining to them the dream he had last night about him and Allison. It started off normal, but he ended up shifting and killing her on a school bus. 

“I don't know. I just woke up,” he exhales shakily. “And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, surprised. “I have. Usually ends a little differently.”

Fallon cringes, not needing that image in her head. “Stop talking,” she says.

“A,” I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and "B," never give us that much detail about you in bed again,” Scott shakes his head, just as grossed out as Fallon.

Stiles puffs out a breath of air, “Noted,” he nods. “Let me take a guess here–”

“No,” Scott stops him. “I know– you think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out.” 

“You might,” Fallon points out. They both look at her incredulously and she shrugs, “What? It’s true. I’m not saying that’s what will happen, but it is a possibility you have to consider. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say an alive Allison is better than a dead Allison.” 

Stiles shoves Fallon playfully, causing her to stumble to the side. Stiles wraps his arm around Scott’s shoulder seeing the glum look on his face. “Hey, come on! It's gonna be fine, all right? Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take.”

Scott raises his hands at Stiles as though to say, "Seriously?" before he frowns and thinks for a moment. An idea pops into his head as he looks in between his two friends, “Yeah… not a class, but maybe a teacher,” he says thoughtfully.

Stiles already knows exactly who Scott is about to suggest, “Who, Derek?” He balks at the suggestion. Scott continues to stare at him silently causing the spastic boy to smack him on the back of the head. “You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?” 

Fallon puts her finger up, stopping any more words from coming out of his mouth. “Oh no, there is no we,” she scoffs. “This was you two,” she gestures between them, “and your knack for terrible assumptions. I just got dragged along for the ride.” 

“We found the body on his property!” Stiles exclaims. “You looked just as terrified as us.” 

“That doesn’t mean I think he did it!” She counters. “I saw a dead body, obviously I was scared. But I still don’t believe he killed his sister in cold blood.” 

“Guys!” Scott laughs at their behavior. “I know it might be a long shot, but I need help,” he admits. “The way I chased her, dragging her into the back of that bus,” he recalls the incident, shuddering at the memory. “It felt so real.”

“How real?” Stiles asks sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. 

Scott shrugs, “Like it actually happened.” 

The trio opens the back door of the building they were in to head to the one across the courtyard, but before they could they’re all stunned speechless. They stop dead in their tracks, all of them staring horrified at the scene in front of them. Sheriff's deputies have taped-off a crime scene around one of the buses at the bus bay. The back of the vehicle is splattered with blood, and the emergency exit door has been almost completely ripped off and is hanging by a single hinge at the bottom. A crime scene investigator is snapping photos of the wreckage, including one of the back seats, which has been clawed open and is spilling its stuffing out onto the floor.

Fallon’s mouth gapes open in shock, looking over to her similarly scared friends. “… I think it did.” 

Scott’s face fills with guilt and horror as he spins around and walks back into the building they were just leaving. Fallon and Stiles struggle to keep up with him as he pulls out his phone, texting Allison. Fallon does the same, pulling up the girl's contact information. 

“I’ll try to call her,” she says, placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder. It rings a few times before naturally going to voicemail. She glances at Scott who’s last bit of hope is dimming, “She didn’t answer…”

He groans, repeatedly slamming the keys with the pads of his fingers as he sends yet another text. Stiles tries to reassure him, “She’s probably fine–”

“She’s not answering my texts, Stiles!” Scott groans anxiously. He starts frantically looking around at all the other students in the hallway, trying to see if Allison is among them. 

“Hey, this could all just be some crazy coincidence, okay?” Fallon tells him calmly, trying to remain a voice of reason despite her anxieties. “I’m sure she’s somewhere. Her dad would’ve already been out ready to kill whoever did it if she was dead, Scott.” 

“Just help me find her, okay?!” 

The werewolf is basically turning in circles as he continues to search for the girl. Stiles and Fallon do their best to try and spot her, but none of them can seem to find her. “Do you see her?” Scott asks, panicked. 

Stiles sighs, “No…”

“I don’t either,” Fallon shakes her head. 

Scott continues to look, anxiously running his hand through his hair while he does, until he finally speeds up and turns around the corner, losing control. Fallon and Stiles try to keep up with him, but end up getting lost in the sea of teenagers. They both look at each other, stress taking over their features. 

“Do you think he actually killed her?” Fallon asks.

“No, there’s no way,” Stiles shakes his head. His resolve crumbles slightly, “Right?” He looks at her unsurely. 

“He wouldn’t,” the brunette girl nods. “He-he cares about her too much. I don’t think he could,” she bites her bottom lip nervously. There’s no use in trying to find him in this state. He’ll only calm down if he finds Allison. Fallon huffs loudly, grabbing Stiles’ arm, “C’mon, we gotta get to class.” 

        · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     To Fallon and Stiles’ relief, Scott had found Allison not long after they lost each other. He texted them while Fallon was in her creative writing class and Stiles was in math. After a few pretty uneventful periods, everyone avoiding the hot button topic of the bloody bus, the trio is finally reunited in their chemistry class. 

Stiles and Fallon sit side by side at the two person desk while Scott sits directly in front of them. Their teacher, Mr. Harris, writes notes on the chalkboard in front of the class while a beaker of clear liquid bubbles in a stand where it hangs from a bunsen burner. 

Fallon dutifully writes her notes, highlighting what she deems important and keeping what she doesn’t in black pen. Stiles copies off her notes, finding that they make more sense than what Harris is writing on the board. The two of them are interrupted though as Scott turns around, “Maybe it was my blood on the door,” he suggests, his mind not able to think of anything else besides the accident. 

Stiles nods, “Could have been animal blood.” 

“Maybe you got hungry last night and went out for a midnight snack,” Fallon agrees. “You could’ve just tore up and ate a rabbit or something.”

Scott looks absolutely appalled by her theory, “Raw?” 

Fallon blinks, “Uh, yeah. What, did you think Werewolves kept little stove tops on hand to cook their prey?” She scoffs. “Obviously they eat things raw, Scott. And we don’t even know for sure because you can’t remember anything.” 

Scott is still offended, and none of them have noticed that Mr. Harris has turned to watch them talk with a stern look on his face and his hands on his hips. He finally speaks up in a snide voice to interrupt them, “Ms. Donovan, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out and put the books down every once in a while.” 

Stiles wastes no time as he begins to chuckle at the embarrassed look on Fallon’s face. He covers his mouth so Harris won’t see him making fun of her. She roughly pinches the back of his arm causing him to yelp and immediately start rubbing the sore spot. He looks at her incredulously and she sends him the most venomous smile she can muster. 

“I think you, Mr. McCall, and Mr. Stilinski would benefit from a little distance, yes?” The teacher lifts an eyebrow, almost daring one of them to challenge him. 

Scott scoffs in irritation as Stiles simply yells, “No!” 

Fallon just stares at the man unamused, “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she shrugs, grabbing her stuff and moving to the front of the room. Her seat is now directly in front of Jackson. Stiles is forced to move to the back of the classroom, leaving Scott in the center. It’s definitely going to be a lot more difficult to talk now. 

“Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much,” Harris snarks sarcastically. 

Fallon rolls her eyes, opening her notebook back up. The girl she’s sitting next to, Harley, doesn’t look at all surprised that the three of them got separated. Refocusing on the task at hand, Fallon continues her notes, color coding them as she goes. She internally groans, knowing she’s going to have to send Stiles a photo of them later now that he can’t just copy off of her directly. 

“Hey! I think they found something!” Harley shouts, shooting up from her seat and beelining it towards the window. Everyone in the class follows after her, all of them eager for a distraction. Outside in the parking lot, an ambulance is parked at a corner with their lights and sirens on, and two paramedics are quickly wheeling a stretcher with a middle-aged adult man on it towards the open doors in the back of the ambulance. Scott, horrified and certain that the man is dead, looks over at Stiles and Fallon, who has joined him at his left side

“That’s not a rabbit…” He whispers with wide eyes. 

The paramedics are about to lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance when suddenly, the man jumps into a seated position, grabbing the shoulders of the paramedics on each side of him with his hands, and begins screaming in fear. The sudden movement and scream causes all of the students watching inside to flinch, visibly startled. Scott, unable to watch any more of this, backs away from the windows until he's in the middle of the room. Stiles and Fallon immediately abandon the window, coming to their friend's aid.

“Scott, this is a good thing,” Fallon says softly. “He sat up which means he’s not dead. And if he’s not dead, that means you’re in the clear.” 

“Fall, I did that,” he looks out the window, dismayed that they now have confirmation someone was seriously injured by whatever happened last night. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     The school day has been going by relatively fast. Fallon was expecting it to drag on a lot more than it was simply because of the accident happening outside. Most of the teachers have given up on trying to get everyone to focus. They know it’s a lost cause with how easily distracted teenagers are. 

Fallon takes a bit of the caesar salad wrap she prepped for her lunch, listening to Stiles and Scott continue talking about the incident. “But dreams aren’t memories,” Stiles points out.

“Then it wasn’t a dream,” Scott says. He sets his tray on the table, sitting directly across from Fallon. Stiles takes the empty chair next to the brunette girl as Scott continues. “Something happened last night, and I can’t remember what.” 

“What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?” Stiles questions skeptically. 

“Well he’s been doing this a hell of a lot longer than we have,” Fallon chimes in, placing her bag of cool ranch Doritos on Stiles’ plate, knowing they’re his favorite. “He’s bound to know something.” 

Scott sighs as Stiles waits patiently for an explanation. Scott leans forward, lowering his volume, “During the full moon, he wasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some totally innocent guy.”

Stiles leans back, shaking his head, “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t not know it,” he says, not convinced that he’s innocent. He bites his bottom lip in thought before exhaling in defeat. “I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.” 

Stiles scoffs, “No, you're not canceling, okay? You can't just cancel your entire life!”

“He’s right,” Fallon looks at Scott. “You shouldn’t have to give up everything that makes you a normal teenager. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” 

“Figure out what?” 

The group of three jumps as Lydia appears behind Scott, slamming her lunch tray down on the table to Scott’s left. Stiles, who is more than just a little startled by her appearance, begins stammering like an idiot. “Ha– Uhh–”

Seeing that Stiles is unable to come up with a quick lie, Fallon smiles over at her friend to cover up their topic of conversation. “Just homework and study group times. Conflicting schedules,” she explains with a nod. 

Stiles and Scott both nod in sync, “Yeah.” 

While Lydia briefly becomes distracted by someone passing by the table, Stiles leans forward so he’s only heard among his friends. “Why is she sitting with us?” 

Both Fallon and Scott shrug, not knowing the answer to his question. Suddenly, more people start to sit down at their table. Marcus Reed from the lacrosse team sits at the head of the table, while Danny takes a seat on Fallon’s right. Scott turns to see that Allison is sitting down next to him and smiles before moving his backpack so she can sit down. 

Harley sits down on Stiles' left, and he chuckles at the sight of her, causing Harley to roll her eyes good-naturedly. Fallon and Stiles share an irritated look, annoyed that their conversation was cut short by all the popular kids suddenly flocking to them. Fallon doesn’t have a problem with any of them, but some days she just wants to be with Stiles and Scott. Her social batter isn’t high enough currently to entertain a group of eight to ten people. 

She makes the effort to smile at Danny, the two falling into a rather easy conversation. Fallon really doesn’t understand how Danny and Jackson became friends. Danny is so nice whereas Jackson is so… not. Speaking of the devil, the blonde boy approaches the table, glaring at Marcus. “Get up,” he orders.

Marcus groans loudly, “How come you never ask Danny to get up?” 

Danny smirks as he bites into his green apple, “Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend's coin slot,” he quips back with no remorse.

Fallon discreetly high fives the boy next to her, giggling at his quick comeback. Marcus rolls his eyes before getting up, finding some of the other lacrosse players to sit with as Jackson fills up his spot. “So, I hear they’re saying it’s some kind of animal attack,” Danny starts the conversation. “Probably a cougar.” 

“I heard a mountain lion,” Jackson counters, always finding a way to contradict someone else.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows at the blonde’s words. She goes to correct him, but is stopped when Lydia is the one who speaks up. “A cougar is a mountain lion.” 

Everyone stares at the strawberry blonde blankly. Well, everyone except Stiles and Fallon who know the girl well enough to be aware of her intelligence. Lydia’s eyes widen as she realizes how dangerously close she is to revealing her secret. She clears her throat, “…Isn’t it?” 

Fallon raises an unamused brow before whispering, “Nice save…” 

Lydia sends her a warning glare before turning her attention back to the food in front of her. Jackson scoffs, “Who cares? The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who’s gonna die anyway?” 

“Jesus,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “What crawled up your ass and died? He’s still a human being. Show some compassion.” 

Stiles glances up from his phone after quickly doing some research on the case, “Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out.” He pulls up a video on his phone and turns it so everyone can view it. It’s from a news website. 

“The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition,” the reporter finishes narrating and Scott gasps at the information. 

“Wait, I-I-I know this guy,” he points to the familiar face on the screen.

Allison looks surprised, “You do?”

He nods, “Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver.”

Scott, Stiles, and Fallon all share a pointed look, knowing that this newfound information means something more than what they originally thought. Lydia glances at them with an annoyed expression, “Can we please talk about something slightly more fun, please? Like…” she gasps when she thinks of what to talk about, “Oh, where are we going tomorrow night?” She asks Allison who simply stares at her with a confused look on her face. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?” She clarifies. 

Allison raises her eyebrows and gulps nervously, realizing exactly what Lydia's about to do and trying to keep it casual in hopes of Lydia staying out of it. “Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do…” She looks at Scott apologetically, knowing Lydia is about to invite herself and Jackson into their plans. 

“Well, I am not sitting home again, watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun,” Lydia states, leaving no room for an argument.

Scott is completely stunned at this turn of events. He gapes helplessly making Fallon hide her smirk. “H-H-Hanging out? Like, the four of us?” He turns to Allison, who has covered up her displeasure at their plans being crashed by drinking out of her water bottle. “Do you wanna hang out? Like, us... and them?”

Allison looks just as excited as Scott does, and by that, not at all. But Fallon knows the girl well enough by now to see how well-mannered she is. There’s no way she’s going to blatantly turn Lydia down. “Yeah… I guess,” she replies in a wary voice, a fake smile plastered on. “Sounds fun.” 

The way Jackson scoffs makes it clear that the only one truly excited about this double date is Lydia. “You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.” He raises the utensil up to his eye, making Lydia snatch it out of his hands, glaring at him for his rudeness. 

“How ‘bout bowling? You love to bowl,” Lydia points out. 

Scott looks at Fallon and Stiles who are rapidly shaking their heads, trying to silently communicate that he shouldn’t go. Nothing good will come out of Jackson and Scott competing against each other in another sport. 

Jackson rolls his eyes, “Yeah, with actual competition.” 

“Then why don’t you and your… friend come, Fallon?” Lydia suggests with a pleading look while also simultaneously ignoring Stiles’ existence. “You two love competing with each other.” 

Fallon laughs loudly which could come off as a bit brash, but not enough to offend anyone. Stiles looks absolutely panicked at the prospect of being dragged into this. She shakes her head, “Uh, no thanks Lyds,” she rejects. “While I would absolutely love to sit there with you guys in tension filled silence, Stiles and I already have plans.”

“We do?” He asks, confused. She sends him a hard glare which makes his eyes widen in understanding, “We do.” 

Allison leans forward, an offended look on her face as she looks at Jackson. “And what makes you think we’re not actual competition?” She says, coming to her and Scott’s defense. “You can bowl, right?” She asks her boyfriend. 

Scott’s expression is an uneasy one, “Sort of…”

“Is it-is it "sort of," or "yes?” Jackson asks patronizingly. 

Fallon internally groans as she watches Scott’s face turn competitive. He clearly doesn’t want to be shown up by Jackson or feel any more inferior than he already does. “Yes,” he lies. “In fact, I’m a great bowler.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon was happy to have a free period at the end of her day. While everyone was still stuck in class, she happily got on her motorcycle and drove off. She has lacrosse practice after school, so she knows not to go too far, but she still wants some time to herself. She rides through the woods towards one of her favorite reading spots. The only people who know about it, of course, are Scott and Stiles. When she pulls up to the familiar rock, a smile graces her face. She parks her bike, hanging her backpack off the handles before grabbing the next book in the Harry Potter series. The Chamber of Secrets. 

She had finished The Philosopher’s Stone a few days ago and is already almost halfway through this one. She sits down in the mossy grass, leaning against the smooth boulder. A large tree trunk sits a few feet away. She’s always wondered how it was cut down with a base that large, but those thoughts leave her mind as she gets lost in the pages. 

She loves the complexities of all the characters in every book she reads. Being able to analyze and compare them to her own life and experiences is one of the main reasons she loves to read. It provides her an escape from her reality. At first, it was to put a little magic in her otherwise dull life, but recently the lines between fiction and nonfiction in her actual world have been blurring. 

She has an alarm set to remind her when she needs to start heading back for practice, but she doesn’t let that interrupt her. Her eyes glaze over the pages, turning one after the other. She doesn’t know how much time has passed until a voice pulls her out of the world she immersed herself in.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Fallon jumps when the masculine tone calls out, dropping her book on the ground in front of her. She turns around to find Derek Hale staring at her from only a few feet away, his hands buried in his pockets. “Where are your friends?” 

Fallon analyzes him, wondering why he came to talk to her. “At school…” she responds. 

He takes a few steps closer, “Then why aren’t you there?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, “I have a free period.” Her hands delicately pick up the book she was reading, dusting it off from the small specks of dirt that cover it. “Thought I’d come out here and read.” 

“With everything that’s been going on, you really think that’s a good idea?” He raises an eyebrow, his frown becoming deeper. 

“I clearly don’t have anything to worry about,” she tells him confidently. “Since apparently you’re always lurking around somewhere.”

He looks shocked at her wit, but doesn’t let it show for long. “And what happens when I’m not?”

“Then I guess that means I’m dead,” she says bluntly, opening her book back up to the page where she left off. 

His curiosity about this girl never fades. He genuinely cannot figure her out. She’s sarcastic like Stiles but in a way that no one can tell if she’s serious or not. “You’d really want that to be the case?” 

“Now look who’s asking a lot of questions,” she smirks, calling him out for what he said to her on their second official meeting. She doesn’t bother looking up from her book. “Look, I appreciate the concern or whatever this is, but I can handle myself.” 

“Against a werewolf?” He narrows his eyes. “No, you can’t. I’m not saying you’re not capable or strong, but you physically cannot take on a werewolf,” he explains, now standing above her. There’s still a healthy distance, but he’s much closer than before. “Not alone.” 

“I’m not alone,” she finally looks up at him. “I’ve got my own guard dog. He’s standing right here,” she nods at him. 

“I’m not your guard dog.” 

“Then why are you here?” She quips back. 

Silence. 

Fallon stares at him, waiting for an answer. Derek doesn’t move, his posture as rigid as his facial expressions. “Making sure no one else gets hurt,” he says monotonously. 

“Well, you’ve done your job,” she dismisses. “I’m completely healthy.” Her eyes travel back down to the pages in her lap, wanting to get back to the conversation the Golden Trio is having. 

Another wave of quietness passes between them. It’s peaceful, not as uncomfortable as Fallon would’ve assumed. Derek’s actually not that bad of company. It would probably be a bit less awkward if he sat down next to her or had a book of his own. Her eyes light up as she glances in his direction, “You wanna sit down?” She asks, moving over slightly. “I don’t bite. Oh, and if you do, no judgment, just sit a little further away,” she grins playfully. “I don’t know if you’ve had all your shots.” 

“Are you always like this?” Derek asks, his patience wearing a little thin. 

“Like what?” She tilts her head. 

“Aggravating,” he says with a clenched jaw. “Non-serious. Naive.” 

“First of all, I’m not naive,” she corrects him. “I just find it’s better to find the humor in situations rather than being a scowly, angry bear all the time,” her comment comes out as a jab towards him. “It takes forty-three muscles to frown and only seventeen to smile,” she informs him wisely. “So why would I bother making myself miserable when it just takes more work?” She closes her book, standing up from her spot. “Second of all… yes. I am always aggravating and non-serious.” She walks over to her bike, grabbing the leather jacket she completely forgot was his and wraps it around herself as she gets ready to go. 

He blinks, not expecting to see her wearing something of his. “You kept it,” he says, with his version of a surprised voice. It actually catches her off guard for a second as his tone is not as gloomy as usual. 

Fallon looks down at the jacket, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah… I did.” She clears her throat, shoving her book in her backpack. “Did you not want me to?” She asks him almost in a whisper, but with his werewolf hearing, it was clear as day.

He shrugs, averting his eyes. He doesn’t answer her question. She leans against her bike, grabbing her helmet. “Do you want it back?” She says, taking off the jacket and holding it out towards him. 

There’s a pause before he walks up to her, closing the distance between the two of them. He looks the jacket over and pushes it back towards the girl’s body. “No,” he states shortly. 

She keeps her eyes on him, “Do you want me to keep it?” 

Another shrug is all she gets. She holds the leather close to her chest, “Not a man of many words, are you?” 

“Just keep it,” he says. “I have more anyway.” 

“So this one wasn’t your favorite or anything?” Fallon smiles, her easygoing, playful demeanor returning. “I’m not stealing your security blanket that helps keep you from shifting?” 

“It can’t be my favorite if it’s yours,” he watches as she drapes it over her shoulder again. She’s pleasantly surprised at his answer which feels as though he’s returning her banter. 

“Very true Mr. Hale, very true,” she grins at him, mounting her bike with her backpack strapped on tight. “Well, I should probably get going… I’ve got lacrosse.” Derek nods and Fallon pulls the visor to her helmet down, “Thanks for keeping me company. And for making sure I don’t die,” she adds. 

“Just stay safe,” he tells her seriously. 

“I will. And if I ever need anything, I know you’ll be lurking in my corner.” She cockily starts her bike, speeding off into the distance. Derek simply watches her leave, desperately trying to convince himself she’s as intolerable as the two boys she’s friends with. 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     After a rather long shift at the hospital, Fallon was happy to get home and into a pair of pajamas. She throws on a blank tank top and yellow sweatpants, letting out a refreshed sigh as she collapses on her bed. Her father had actually returned home an hour before she did and is already fast asleep. The night was pretty uneventful at first until Scott ended up showing up. He went to see Mr. Myers and sent the poor guy into a frenzy. He ended up having a seizure. 

The girl groans when she hears her phone ringing, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for the next decade. She huffs, forcing herself off her bed and over to her desk where she left her phone. Stiles’ name pops up on the screen and she answers, “Is there a reason you’re calling me this late, freckles? Should I be worried?” 

“Come outside. Now,” he tells her without giving any other information. “Oh, and bring a jacket. It’s kinda nippy.” Then he hangs up. 

Fallon scoffs before looking out her window. Sure enough, his blue Jeep is sitting right in her front yard, lights off so they don’t alert Michael who is already asleep. She shakes her head, throwing on her newly gifted black leather jacket and a pair of converse before heading out the door. 

She jumps into the backseat, closing the door behind her. “This better be extremely important because I am exhausted,” she warns them. “And I will actually kill both of you, my love for you guys be damned.” 

“Relax, this is probably the most important thing you’ll ever do in your life, okay?” Stiles waves her off. 

“Then what are we doing?” She asks.

“Going back to school.” 

Her curiosity fades into anger, “I’m leaving,” she grips the door handle and gets ready to jump out. 

Stiles quickly reaches over, putting the child lock on all the doors before zooming down her street. She stares at him incredulously and he rolls his eyes. “It’s for Scott,” he clarifies.

The other boy nods, “I saw Derek. He told me that in order to remember I have to go back to where everything happened. Use my senses.” 

“So we’re going back to the bus?” Fallon blinks. “The crime scene. Where we will most likely get arrested if we’re caught.” 

“Yup,” Stiles answers, popping the “p.” 

“Great,” she mumbles. 

Stiles drives the back way to get to the school. The terrain is a bit rougher since it’s through the woods, but they’re less likely to be seen going this way. The jeep rolls up slowly to the fence that encases the bus barn. There’s still crime scene tape all around the area and Fallon immediately knows that this is a bad idea. 

The trio gets out of the car, walking towards the fence and Scott looks at them like they’re crazy. “Hey, no– just me. You guys need to keep watch.” 

Stiles stops in his tracks, looking offended by Scott’s words. “How come we’re the ones that have to keep watch?” 

“I’m not necessarily opposed,” Fallon admits honestly. “Less likely chance for me to get caught.” 

Stiles smacks her arm before trying to pull her with him as he scales the fence. Scott grabs her from Stiles, setting her gently on the ground before yanking the other boy back onto the gravel. “Because this is my responsibility,” Scott tells him. “I need to figure this out, and you two need to make sure I don’t get seen.” 

“Okay, why is it starting to feel like you're Batman and we’re Robin and Alfred?” Stiles asks accusatively, crossing his arms. Scott just stares at him exasperatedly making Stiles scoff, “Did you ever think we don’t want to be your sidekicks all the time?!” 

“Nobody’s Batman, Robin, or Alfred any of the time!” Scott argues, throwing his hands up. 

Stiles deflates, very disappointed by the resolution of this argument, “Not even some of the time?” 

“You can be my Batman, Sti,” Fallon pats his back. 

“Thank you,” he points to her with a victorious smile. “I take back every bad thing I’ve said to you.” 

Scott groans in annoyance, “Just stay here,” he commands them both sternly. 

“Oh my God! Fine,” Stiles grabs Fallon, and they both return to the jeep. But not before Stiles yells out, “Fallon gets front seat privileges!” 

“Yes!” She celebrates. “Score.” 

They both see Scott roll his eyes before jumping over the fence with ease. Stiles slumps down in his chair, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Fallon glances at him before poking his side, “C’mon… you could’ve gotten stuck with worse. I think I’m pretty good company.” 

Stiles sighs, flipping his head over in her direction, “Did you mean what you said?” 

She smiles, “That you could be my Batman?” He nods. “Yes, I meant it,” she chuckles. “And I’ll be your Robin. Scott can be Alfred:”

“I like this new arrangement much better,” he agrees with her words. 

Fallon closes her eyes with a fond smile on her face as she listens to Stiles' broken up stereo playing today’s hits. She hums along, Stiles listening while also watching that Scott is still in the clear. There’s a comfortable silence until a topic pops up into Stiles’ head that he never got the answer to. 

“Fall, do you think I’m attractive to gay guys?” 

Her eyes shoot open and she sputters. If she could have done a spit take, she would have. “I’m sorry? What did you just ask me?” 

“Am I attractive to gay guys?” He reiterates, waving his hands around to emphasize his question. 

She blinks in shock, “Are you seriously asking this or is this some weird joke?” 

“Could you just answer the question please,” he huffs exasperated. 

Fallon turns to face him, crossing her legs so she can sit fully on the seat. “I’ll tell you what… I’ll answer, if you tell me if I’m attractive,” she proposes. 

Stiles sticks his hand out, “Deal.” 

They shake hands while simultaneously linking pinkies to solidify the exchange. Fallon tilts her head, taking in Stiles’ appearance. “Honestly? Yeah,” she nods. “I mean, you’re a good looking guy.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she chuckles at the disbelief in his voice. “You need to give yourself more credit. You’re hot. My only piece of advice would be to maybe grow your hair out a little bit.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, “How long should I do it? Like manbun status?” 

Fallon snorts at the image of Stiles with a manbun. She shakes her head, “No. Just like a few inches from the top,” she explains. “Plus, if you were to have sex or anything like that, most people want something to grip onto and run their hands through.”

His jaw goes slack at her nonchalance. He stutters for a moment before getting his sentence out, “Uh- is-is that something you like? Or…?”

Fallon shrugs, “I guess. I mean, when I kiss a guy I usually run my hands through his hair. It makes the moment more intimate.” 

Stiles stares at her shocked, “You’ve kissed people?! Like, real people?”

She rolls her eyes at his question, “Yes, Stiles. Real people.” 

“Who?” He scoffs, not believing she did something like this and kept it from him for so long. 

Fallon glances out the window, “I’m not sure you wanna know.”

“Uh- yeah, I do,” he nods with a huff. “Who was it? Or was there multiple?” 

“Well, yeah…” she rubs the back of her neck. “One guy.” 

“What does that mean?! You’ve kissed a girl?” He asks, his brain about to explode from all the new information.

“It was for practice,” Fallon defends herself.

“Okay now I definitely need to know,” Stiles leans in closer, waiting for her to reveal everything.

Fallon looks unsure. She bites the inside of her cheek, not wanting to anger him by her answer. She knows he’ll take it personally or out of context. Or… maybe he’ll take it well and use her as a reference. 

“Do you want to hear the guy or the girl first?” 

“Girl,” he replies almost immediately. 

Fallon raises an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on her face. His face flushes red at how eager he must’ve just sounded, but she doesn’t make fun of him. “Okay, but you have to promise not to get mad.” 

“I don’t know why I would get mad, but sure. I pinky promise to the little dwarf dancing on the moon, now get on with it,” he rushes. 

She playfully glares at him, taking a deep breath before revealing the answer, “…Lydia.” 

His pupils are blown beyond wide as the name of his longtime crush flows through Fallon’s lips. He doesn’t know whether to be appalled or oddly aroused. She can see the conflict on his face so she tries to explain, “It was like seventh grade, and it didn’t mean anything. It was her idea. She said we needed to be ready and I was over at her house, so it just… happened.” 

He sits in silence for another moment, staring at her as if his mind short circuited. “W-was it good?” He queries. “Do her lips taste like cherry or strawberry? I could never figure out what chapstick she used,” he rambles off. “Could you give me pointers? What does she like? Does she like long hair?” 

Fallon laughs, glad that this was his reaction. “Okay, one– cherry, two– no, I will not give you pointers. That’s weird. Three– I don’t know, it lasted like five seconds three years ago, and four– yes.” She answers all of his questions and he mentally notes all of them. 

“Okay,” he nods his head. “Now, who was the guy?” 

That’s when she nervously looks down at her shoes, almost as if they’re the most interesting things in the world. He waits impatiently, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh come on,” he urges, “there is literally nothing else that you could surprise me with.” 

“It was Scott,” she admits, blurting it out only to see if his last statement was true. 

It was not. 

“WHAT?!” 

“Yeah,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Last year. I went to drop him off after I got my motorcycle license and he invited me in for dinner as a thank you. He made me a cheeseburger and when I left, he walked me to the door and it felt like one of those moments where it should happen, but when it did it was like really weird,” she cringes at the memory. “It was good, don’t get me wrong, but we’re both not necessarily considered experienced. And we both regretted it right after because it felt like kissing a sibling.” 

“I hate you,” Stiles shakes his head. “Both of you, actually. How could you not have told me this sooner? Why him out of all people? Why have you never kissed me? Now I feel left out,” he pouts. 

He rambles off a few more questions so Fallon reaches over and places her hand over his mouth. She looks at him seriously, “Do you want me to kiss you?” She asks incredulously. “You’ve been kind of obsessed with Lydia since we knew what crushes were. I didn’t exactly think you’d be interested.”

She takes her hand back off now that he’s calmed down. He blinks rapidly, looking everywhere in the car and then back to her. “I-I don’t know. I mean, would you actually kiss me if I asked you to?” 

Fallon shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

He gapes at her, “I don’t understand what’s going on right now.” 

She throws her head back, letting out a wonderful laugh. It’s a genuine one. Fallon has always had different levels of laughter, and this has to be her most hearty laugh, which is usually accompanied by a snort. She glances at him with admiration, patting his cheek, “Don’t stress about it. If there’s a time in the future where you still want me to kiss you, I will. But I’m afraid if I do right now, I might send you to an early grave,” she jokes.

 He nods in agreement, a small smile breaking out on his face, “So, can I get that in writing, or…?”

“I’ll remember,” she reassures him. “Just gotta ask. And obviously when we’re both single.” 

“Right,” he clears his throat, wondering if he will ever take her up on this offer. 

“Okay, now it's your turn,” she pokes his chest. “Am I attractive?” 

He stares at her as if she’s stupid, “I thought just asking you to kiss me kind of answered that question.”

Fallon smacks his chest at his patronizing tone, but she finds it endearing. “Whatever,” she playfully rolls her eyes. “I was just curious.” 

“Obviously you’re attractive,” he answers. “You’re beautiful, smart, you play lacrosse, you can sing, you’re happy, you’ve got the best freakin’ smile in the world. Yes, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he lists off genuinely, looking into her eyes softly. 

Her cheeks heat up at the list of compliments. Her and Stiles might bicker a lot, but it’s moments like these that they share between just them that mean so much. Their friendship has always been filled with teasing and love. She shoves him gently, “Don’t be weird,” she grumbles. 

He pushes her back, “I think the correct response is ‘thanks for the compliment.’ Which you need to learn how to accept by the way.” 

Fallon goes to respond, but is stopped when a pair of headlights heading towards the exact bus Scott is in flash in their direction. She gasps, “Crap.” Her arms flail around for a second before she settles on reaching over Stiles and slamming her hand down on the horn. A loud honk blares throughout the quiet space, catching Scott’s attention. He frantically turns and runs down the aisle of the bus, hopping out the front door, barely hurdling over the crime scene tape before he leaps up onto a red SUV. He uses the vehicle as a vault to flip over the chain-link fence like a gymnast. He somersaults lightly as he makes contact with the ground before rushing towards Stiles and Fallon. 

“Scott, hurry up!” Fallon whisper yells, making hand motions to get him to pump his legs faster. 

Stiles anxiously taps the steering wheel until Scott is successfully in the car. As soon as the boy slides in, Stiles turns his key in the ignition and hits the gas as soon as Scott tells him to go. The three of them speed away from the school, the empty back road actually soothing them from the high adrenaline situation. Stiles actually kept to his word, allowing Fallon to remain in the passenger seat. Not that they had enough time to switch positions anyway. 

Fallon turns in her seat to look at Scott who has his eyes closed and his breathing rather heavily. “Did it work?” She asks. “Do you remember what happened?” 

Scott glances through the back windshield before he replies, “Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood? A lot of it was mine,” he reveals.

Stiles’ eyes widen in alarm, “So you did attack him?”

He shakes his head rapidly, “No. I-I-I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine–” he narrows his eyes, trying to put the pieces together of what he just saw. “It was Derek.” 

Fallon’s heart sinks. She furrows her eyebrows, “H-hold on–”

Stiles cuts her off, “What about the driver?” He asks, not able to wait to for Fallon to get her statement out. 

“I think I was actually trying to protect him.” 

Fallon shakes her head, “This doesn’t make sense,” she pokes a hole in Scott’s logic. “Derek wouldn’t sit here and purposefully help you remember that he attacked the driver.” 

“It’s gotta be a pack thing,” Stiles proposes.

Scott tilts his head curiously, “What do you mean?” 

“Like an initiation,” Stiles elaborates. “You do the kill together.” 

“Because ripping someone’s throat out is a real bonding experience,” he scoffs sarcastically. 

“Yeah, but the good news is that you didn’t do it,” Fallon’s voice lightens reassuringly, even though she doesn’t believe Derek did it either. “Which means you’re not the killer. And it also means that–”

“I can go out with Allison!” Scott says excitedly, a dopey smile on his face.

Fallon and Stiles shoot him an offended look, “I was actually gonna say that means you won’t murder us,” she clarifies, tilting her head at his priorities.

Scott looks at them sheepishly, realizing he hadn’t even thought about that part yet. “Oh, yeah… that too.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Fallon messes with her curls nervously as she and Stiles run up to the McCall residence. She notices Melissa’s car in the driveway and knows she’s probably already inside sleeping after her long shift at the hospital. Stiles has picked her up and informed her that Garrison Myers died from his injuries while Scott was out on his double date with Allison. The two friends felt more than compelled to share the news with Scott, especially after what he discovered on the bus. 

Fallon pushes Stiles up so he can reach the window on the side of the house. He slides the glass open before falling unceremoniously into the room. She chuckles, grabbing onto a ledge and hoisting herself up. Stiles grabs her arm, pulling her in as well. Of course, he stumbles backwards from the force and she ends up falling on top of him. They both groan from the impact, noses practically touching. Stiles smiles nervously and Fallon playfully rolls her eyes, rolling over to get off of him. 

The two of them stand up, Fallon moving to close the window. The duo doesn’t even notice the shadowy figure approaching them from behind with a baseball bat in hand. They spin around and come face to face with a terrified looking Melissa. 

“WHOA!” Stiles screams, running behind Fallon for protection. 

She puts her hand in front of her face, the three of them screaming at the sudden intrusion. The bat flails wildly and the two teens squeeze their eyes shut, bracing for any impact. After a moment, they finally stop. Melissa, exasperated and irritated, puts down the bat and half-screams at them. 

“Stiles! Fallon! What are you doing here?!” 

Stiles' voice is just as exasperated, as though Melissa is the one in the wrong here, especially when he remembers that Scott almost did the exact same thing to them with the bat. “What are we doing here?” He puffs out a breath of air. “God, do either of you even play baseball?”

“What?” Melissa asks, completely overwhelmed. 

Suddenly, the light flicks on, revealing that Scott has returned home. Melissa wastes no time turning towards him and scolding him, “Can you please tell your friends to use the front door?” 

“But we lock the front door,” Scott says obliviously. “They wouldn’t be able to get in.” 

Melissa gives him a pointed look, “Yeah, exactly.” Her mind travels back to the mandated curfew and changes the subject, “And, by the way, do any of you care that there’s a police-enforced curfew?”

The three friends make eye contact, shrugging. “No,” they reply simultaneously. 

Melissa rolls her eyes to the ceiling and mutters under her breath, “No.” She sighs, throwing her hands up as a sign of defeat, “All right, then. Well, you know what? That's about enough parenting for me for one night, so…” She tosses the bat onto Scott’s bed next to where Stiles and Fallon are before turning to walk towards the door. She pauses, kissing Fallon on the forehead as if she were her own daughter before bidding her son goodnight. 

Scott smiles sweetly at his mom, “Goodnight.” 

When Scott turns back to his two friends, he takes note of the serious looks on their faces. He frowns in concern, dragging his desk chair over so he can sit in front of them. “What?” He asks. 

Stiles hesitates for a moment, him and Fallon sharing a nervous glance. He turns to Scott, fidgeting with his hands, “My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago… It’s the bus driver.” 

Scott looks at them confused and Fallon sighs, “My dad’s the one that operated on him. They’re saying he succumbed to his wounds,” she says sadly. 

“Succumbed?” He furrows his eyebrows.

“Scott, he’s dead.” 

       · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

     Pulling up to the burnt down Hale house, Fallon begins questioning every decision she’s made in the past two hours. It’s about one in the morning and no one knows where she is. She didn’t tell Scott or Stiles and her father wasn’t even home, finishing off his shift at the hospital. But she couldn’t help her curiosity. She needs to know what’s going on and she can’t wait for Scott to come to his senses and ask. 

She parks her bike, hopping off of it. She has a feeling Derek already knows she’s there, but she still walks up to the door, knocking on it as if she were visiting a friend. No one answers, but the blackened wood still swings backwards. The late night wind howls, making her turn around in paranoia. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she gazes into the dark woods. When she notices his black Camaro on the side of the house, she can see that one of his windows has been smashed. She tilts her head.

“What are you doing here?” 

Fallon spins around, her eyes going wide as she watches Derek walk down the dinky steps. The moon casts a bright glow over his body, contrasting the darkness of the broken down home. She notices small gash marks covering his arms, but they seem to be healing right before her eyes. It’s remarkable. 

“What happened to you?” She asks her own question rather than answering his. 

He finishes his journey down the stairs, using the towel in his hand to wipe off the remaining blood before the gashes completely close. “Scott,” he answers, tossing the cloth into a far corner. She looks around the home, splintered wood everywhere. The interior looks like it’s been freshly destroyed and judging by his roughed up appearance, she can only assume that a fight broke out between the two. “Now answer me. What are you doing here?” 

The girl swallows thickly, her hands clenched at her side. “The bus driver,” she begins. “He died tonight. And… I-I don’t want to be in the dark about it. I can’t wait for Scott to sit here and figure it out. I want to know now,” she looks him in the eyes. “You’re the one who told him to go back to that bus to figure out if he killed Mr. Meyers. He said he saw you as the one hurting him. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why you would purposely remind him that it was you, seeing as he and Stiles had no problem turning you into the police.” 

“You want to know if I killed him.” 

“I want to know what the hell is going on,” she corrects. “So if that entails you being a murderer, then yeah, I’d like to know. Because I’m not going to keep defending you to them when I barely even know you. And then you actually end up being some psycho killer who ripped his own sister in half.” 

He remains completely calm despite her erratic demeanor. He shrugs his shoulders, maintaining his distance. “Do you think I killed him?” 

Fallon pauses. She clenches her jaw tightly before sighing irritatedly, “No,” she answers with a scoff. “I don’t think you did anything, but I should. I should believe that you did it because everything points to you. And as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t given me any reason to believe you’re not a killer. Yet I just don’t. Something in me tells me you’re innocent. So I want an explanation. You’ve been telling me to ‘stay safe,’ well then clue me in.” 

Listening to her heartbeat, despite her being exasperated and no doubt exhausted from how late it is, it’s steady. She’s telling him the full and honest truth. She really believes he didn’t do it. His face remains blank but he inhales deeply, “There’s another.” 

She furrows her eyebrows, “Another what? Werewolf?” She asks incredulously. 

“Yes,” he nods. “He’s the one who killed the bus driver, and my sister. He’s the one who bit Scott,” he explains, causing the girl to take a moment to process. “It’s called an Alpha. Scott and I are Betas which means this thing is much more powerful, more ferocious than both of us. My sister came looking for him and that’s how she ended up dead. Now I’m here trying to find him, but I can’t do it without Scott.” 

“Why?” She narrows her eyes. 

“Because he’s part of his pack. He bit him which means they have a connection,” Derek elaborates. “I can’t find him without Scott’s help. That’s why I’ve been telling you to be careful. You’ve seen what this Alpha is capable of.” 

“So why not just be honest from the get go? Why make Scott, all three of us, go through this whole process just to get a glimpse of what we’re really dealing with?” She scoffs. “You could’ve told us there was another from the beginning.” 

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” he says. “None of you would have, especially them. I went to jail because they thought I killed my sister, and immediately assumed I also murdered the bus driver. You all needed to figure it out on your own. And now, you all know.” 

“What do we do?” She looks up at him. He simply stares at her so she huffs, “If you need Scott’s help, that means you’re getting Stiles and I’s help too. So… what do we do?” 

“I don’t need your help,” he tells her and begins to walk away. 

“Well you’re getting it,” she insists, following after him. “Tell me what needs to be done.” 

“Go home, Fallon,” he dismisses her. “This is beyond what you can do.” 

“Try me.” 

“I said, go home,” his command sent chills down her spine. His voice drops a few octaves, his eyes briefly flashing yellow as an intimidation tactic. He’s trying to scare her. 

“No,” she breathes out shakily. 

“You’re scared,” he blatantly states. “If you can’t handle this, what makes you think you can handle an Alpha?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Fallon persists. “What can I do to help?” 

“Stay out of the way,” he grumbles, making his way back up the stairs without so much as a second glance.

Magic Bullet 1x04

Episode 5

“If Derek isn't the Alpha... if he's not the one who bit you... then who did?” Stiles questions as their teacher passes out the graded tests they all took. Fallon rubs her eyes tiredly, exhausted from how late she stayed up going to see Derek. She doesn’t necessarily regret going, but now she feels an unnatural anger towards the man. He told her to stay out of the way. It’s unbelievable. All she wants to do is help and make sure no more people die, and yet he makes it seem as though she’s the problem.

“I don’t know,” Scott answers.

Stiles sighs and sits back in his seat for the briefest moment before thinking of another question and leaning forward, gently smacking Scott in the back with the back of his right hand. “Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?”

Scott whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Fallon answers at the same time, a small yawn escaping her lips.

The two boys turn to look at her. She’s sitting next to Stiles in the row over. She freezes, realizing she just answered a question she shouldn’t even have any context to. Stiles narrows his eyes at her, “How do you know?”

She shrugs, trying to cover it up. “Just a hunch, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” Scott furrows his eyebrows. “I just heard your heart beat. It went up. How do you know?” He reiterates the question.

The brunette sighs. There’s no point in keeping it a secret, “I saw Derek last night…” she admits. “After the bus driver died, I wanted to know what was going on. So I went to hear it from him.”

“Are you stupid?!” Stiles scoffs, throwing his pencil at her. “What if he killed you, huh? Then what?”

“Well, I’m sitting right next to you so, I wouldn’t know,” she replies sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Scott scolds.

“You did,” Fallon points out incredulously, baffled by his hypocrisy.

“But I can protect myself in ways that you can’t,” he insists.

“Y’know I’m getting real tired of everyone assuming Stiles and I are useless just because we don’t have magical werewolf abilities,” she glares at him.

“I never said you were useless.”

“Okay!” Stiles whisper yells, stopping the argument from moving forward. “Moving on…” he turns his attention back to Scott. “Does Allison’s dad know about the Alpha?”

Scott, feeling overwhelmed by the mini argument with Fallon, along with the incessant questions from Stiles, loses his temper. “I don’t know!” He replies in a loud voice causing the teacher and pretty much every student in the class to look back at the three of them. He tries to play it off by looking out the window while Stiles sinks down into his chair. Fallon simply smiles fakely at the onlookers who turn away from the awkward situation.

Stiles is handed back his test first out of the three and is satisfied by the "A" he received. Fallon gets hers next, a small smirk on her face as she reads “A+” with a one-hundred percent written next to it. However, Scott sighs loudly when he's handed his, which has a “D-” written on it, Stiles leans forward to look at it and mutters sarcastically over Scott's shoulder, “Dude, you need to study more!”

Scott slams his test down on the desk, shooting Stiles a menacing glare. Stiles scoffs defensively, pushing himself away from Scott. “That was a joke, Scott,” he explains. “It’s one test! You’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“Yeah, we can meet at my place tonight if you want,” Fallon suggests kindly, despite their previous argument. “We can make our own personalized pizza’s and stuff.”

Scott sighs, “No, I’m studying with Allison after school today.”

Stiles grins suggestively and pats Scott on the back proudly, “That’s my boy!”

Fallon rolls her eyes, kicking Stiles from across the way. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Boundaries.”

Scott nods along with Fallon, sending Stiles a pointed look, “We’re just studying.”

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Stiles scoffs, rubbing his shin where the angry brunette just kicked it.

Scott frowns in confusion, “No, I’m not?”

Stiles rolls his eyes in exasperation as though it’s obvious to what he’s referring to. “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you!” He exclaims. “If you go over to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God, I’ll have you de-balled.”

“You seriously need to get laid,” Fallon says to Stiles, taking out her book and burying her nose in it. Their teacher gave them the rest of the period off to do homework anyway.

“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” he replies as if what he said is a good comeback.

“Okay,” Scott looks at them with annoyed eyes. “Just... stop with the questions.”

Stiles nods with a grin, “Done. No more questions. No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek…” he trails off, his eyes going unfocused as he remembers the intimidating man. No doubt recalling their last interaction in the back of the police cruiser. “Especially Derek… who still scares me…”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon makes her way over to the girls locker room after the last bell of the day. She likes being able to change in her own space for lacrosse practice because no one’s ever in here after school. The only time she usually has to share is with the off season soccer girls who only use it to get ready for training. The brunette walks over to one of the stalls, using the restroom before changing into her gear. She still has a headphone in, listening to her playlist to keep her mind occupied. She flushes the toilet before exiting the bathroom and washing her hands. She hums under her breath, watching as the water trickles down her skin.

“Holy shit!” She screams loudly when she looks into the mirror and sees a pale, almost dead looking Derek Hale standing behind her. He sways back and forth on his feet, his blue eyes looking more gray by the second. That’s when she notices the gaping bullet hole in his arm. Derek stumbles, almost falling to the floor, but Fallon rushes forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hold him up. He’s a lot heavier than she thought. “What happened?” She asks, her voice laced with concern.

He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was shot,” he manages to get out. Blood drips down his arm and off of his fingertips, leaking onto her shoes. She grimaces, but knows that her shoes are not the priority right now.

“I’m sorry, you got what?!” Her eyes widen as she moves frantically to have him sit down on one of the benches in the locker room. “By who?” She runs over to her locker, grabbing a spare shirt and a pair of scissors from her backpack. Her father’s words come into mind on how to take care of a gunshot wound. She cuts a long piece of fabric out of the material before going back over to Derek and creating a makeshift tourniquet. “By the way, this is gonna hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Wha–?” He lets out a low growl as she ties it as tightly as she can. The bleeding slowly slightly, but the wound still looks nasty. His eyes flash a bright blue for a moment before turning back to their normal color.

“Why aren't you healing?” She asks, looking over his form. A wound this small should’ve been nothing for the werewolf.

“I can’t,” he groans in pain. “It wasn’t a normal bullet. It’s different.”

“Like wolfsbane different?” She asks worriedly, remembering the different things she read in the book Stiles gave her.

Derek looks surprised by her second question, impressed by her knowledge. His head lulls forward and onto her shoulder, “Wolfsbane,” his voice turns into a whisper. “Need to find Scott. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon answers, lifting him off the bench with a grunt. “We don’t have the same last class.” She manages to get them over to the door and out into the hallway. She eyes him sadly, trying her hardest to get him outside. Her arm wraps around his waist as another method to keep him up and secure. He’s trying to help hold his own body weight, but it’s no use. He’s fading, and fast. “C’mon Derek, stay with me,” she mumbles.

They barrel out of the exit doors and Fallon stops, looking over all the heads of the students to try and find Scott. She huffs as the line of cars is long and completely backed up. There’s no way she can get him anywhere safely on her bike, but her eyes brighten when she notices the blue Jeep sitting at the front of the masses of cars.

“Okay, I’m not seeing Scott, but Stiles is right there,” she assures him, starting to drag his limp body over to the vehicle.

“No. Absolutely not,” Derek denies, trying not to go in the direction Fallon’s forcing him in. “I don’t want help from your spaz head of a boyfriend.”

Fallon sighs, rolling her eyes as she continues hauling him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she corrects. “And unless you wanna brave it out on my motorcycle, this is the best option.”

Derek doesn’t have time to protest as Fallon stops them right in front of Stiles’ car. She puts her hand up to stop him from going and her best friend slams on his breaks. He throws his hands up in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath as he moves to get out of the car. Horns blare from every direction and that’s when Fallon feels Derek start swaying again. “No, no, no, no, don’t fall! Derek, don’t fall!”

“I’m falling,” he whispers. His body starts leaning backwards, too far backwards for Fallon to keep up. She tries to use one last surge of strength to force him up, but it’s too late. His body's stature is no match for her. They fall into the asphalt with a loud thump. Both of them groan in pain and Fallon gets up, lifting his head to put on her legs so he has some way of sitting up.

Scott apparently saw the whole ordeal from the bike rack. He rushes over to Stiles’ jeep where his two best friends are taking care of Derek. Stiles is clearly the most pissed one out of the three of them, peeved Derek stopped him from going to play video games.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, blocking Derek’s view from the agitated students. They don’t need to see a dying werewolf in the middle of the school parking lot.

He tries to move himself away from Fallon’s lap, but his limbs are all too limp to get very far. “I was shot,” he gasps out, pointing to the hole in his arm.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles looks at him warily.

“I wonder why,” Fallon says sarcastically.

“Okay, you know what? Now is not the time,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her.

Scott frowns in confusion, inspecting the injury. “Why aren’t you healing?” He asks the same question Fallon did

“I can’t,” he huffs tiredly, giving up and collapsing fully into Fallon. Blood seeps from his arm and into her blue jeans and she has to look up in the sky to prevent herself from being disappointed at her now stained clothing. “It was- it was a different kind of bullet.” He repeats the same story he gave to Fallon.

Stiles perks up, all of his supernatural dreams coming true. “A silver bullet?”

“No, you idiot,” Derek snaps irritatedly.

Scott looks as if he just put together something super important, “Wait, wait– that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours…”

Derek’s eyes widen in alarm, “What? Who-who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you,” Scott answers.

Suddenly, Derek is hit with a powerful wave of pain that causes his eyes to flash bright blue, the same way they did when Fallon put the tourniquet on him. He grimaces in agony. When he opens his eyes again, they're continuing to flash back and forth between his werewolf blue eyes and his human green eyes. Scott looks horrified, his eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching before he mutters at Derek forcefully, “What are you doing? Stop that!”

“Scott, I don’t think he can,” Fallon whispers urgently. “He can’t control it.”

The boy looks at Derek, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Derek, get up.”

The line of cars start to get more impatient. As soon as they see people starting to get out of their vehicles to approach them, they realize that they need to get out of there. Now. Scott pulls Derek to his feet, the man wobbling from the sudden force. He latches onto Fallon once more, the brunette grunts but wraps her arms around his midsection anyway to keep him steady. Once she was sure they could move without collapsing again, she got him inside of Stiles’ jeep, placing him gently in the passenger seat. She huffs, realizing she’ll have to leave her bike here, but there’s no way she’s going to let Stiles handle Derek in the jeep alone. He’ll just have to take her back for her motorcycle later.

Fallon sits comfortably in the back, Stiles getting into the driver’s side. Derek sticks his head out the window, “I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.”

Scott scoffs, “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” He asks, throwing his arms up.

“Because she’s an Argent,” he says. “She’s with them.”

Scott narrows his eyes, “Why should I help you?”

Fallon looks at him with an exasperated expression. Now is not the time for vendetta’s or looking for reasons to help someone. She sends her friend a begging look, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because, you need me,” Derek answers in a weak voice.

Scott looks over and sees a confused Allison walking toward them and decides to wrap up this scene as quickly as possible, “Fine,” he sighs. “ I'll try.” Scott turns to look at Stiles, who's expression makes it clear that he's feeling very put-out at the moment. “Hey, get him out of here.

Stiles shoots Scott a death-glare, “I hate you for this, so much.” Stiles puts the car into drive and sets off just as Allison comes up. They’re speeding out of the parking lot, happy to get away from the angry crowd that started forming around them.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles drives the injured wolf and Fallon in his jeep. There’s a tense silence surrounding them, Derek grunting in pain while Stiles shoots him angry side glances. Fallon taps her foot impatiently as she stares at her text message thread with Scott. She has to have texted him at least eight times in the past twenty minutes. She doesn’t mean to rush, but this situation seems pretty dire. Like go there, find it, make up an excuse and leave kind of situation. Not go have a whole dinner with her family.

“What the hell is taking him so long?” Fallon grumbles, tossing her phone to the seat next to her. Her frustration is evident which only gets worse when Stiles smirks at her through the rear view mirror.

“Maybe he’s busy…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Y’know gettin’ busy.”

Fallon cringes at the innuendo, “Are you serious right now?” She scolds him.

“Stop talking,” Derek seethes, closing his eyes tightly. They stopped flashing between blue and green which is a good sign, but the low growl in his voice is enough to make her sink back into her seat.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles defends himself. “Maybe he hasn’t done anything because he’s having fun. Which is what we should be doing rather than lugging dead wolf meat around,” he chides. That stupid smile appears on his face again, “I mean, I could totally see him and Allison–”

“Stop!” Derek shouts at the spastic boy, dangerously close to striking him in the back of the head.

“Okay, you don’t need to be yelling,” Fallon directs at Derek, staring at him through the mirror. “So why don’t you stop talking and sit there squirming in pain.”

He looks back at her, fury in his irises. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you need us a hell of a lot more than we need you,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “You came to me to save your ass, remember that? You’re the one bleeding out.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, and uh speaking of that, try not to get it all over my seats, kay? We’re almost there anyway.”

“Almost where?” Derek hisses, turning his attention away from the brunette in the back. His hand is still covering the wound, blood slowly seeping onto his fingers. The tourniquet is still doing its job of slowing down the bleeding, but judging by his half-lidded eyes, it’s not going to do any good for much longer.

“Your house,” Stiles says, his voice calmer than it was a second ago. He slows to a stop when the traffic light ahead turns red. There’s no one else on the road with them which makes having Derek in the car less difficult. No one to explain their actions to.

“What?” Derek’s head snaps over the boy. “No, you can’t take me there.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously, “I can’t take you to your own house?”

“Not when I can’t protect myself!” Derek argues.

Stiles huffs angrily before turning his wheel roughly. He pulls off to the side of the road, turning off the jeep as he faces Derek fully, his nostrils flaring. “All right. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?”

“Not yet,” Derek shakes his head.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t,” Fallon mumbles.

“I have a last resort,” he reveals, groaning loudly when another wave of pain hits him.

“What do you mean? What last resort?” Stiles yells.

Derek pulls his sleeve up fully, exposing the wound in all its glory. Fallon hadn’t seen the whole thing, only what his ripped shirt permitted. Stiles flinches violently from the sight while gagging, “Oh, my God. What is that?” He averts his gaze, looking out the window. “Oh, is that contagious?” He gasps. “You know what, you should probably just get out.”

“Stiles start the damn car!” Fallon yells at him. “He’s dying, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need you making a bigger deal of it.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Derek adds menacingly.

“Again, not dating,” she points between her and Stiles.

“Hey! Alright, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think, if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little Werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

Silence.

“Start the car… or I’m gonna rip your throat out… with my teeth,” Derek growls menacingly.

The two boys stare at each other for a solid minute or so before Stiles finally reaches for the keys, sliding them into the ignition. Fallon exhales softly, melting into her seat as she thanks whatever force out there stopped a fight between Stiles and a man twice his size.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon bites her nails anxiously as she and Scott text back and forth. Derek’s not looking too good, Scott. Have you found anything?

His response comes back short. Need more time. She puffs out an irritated breath. That’s the only response she’s gotten from him in about two and a half hours. The sun is already set and it’s starting to become dark out. The sky was an ombré of red, orange, yellow, and blue as the night approaches. Fallon feels terrible for Stiles and the fact he had a full tank before this fiasco started. They’ve been driving around all day. They had no idea where to take Derek. Stiles’ house was obviously a no go as his dad is the sheriff and would probably lose his mind if he found out Derek had been there. They can’t take him to Scott’s either as Melissa would freak out if they snuck in unannounced again.

“Why can’t we just take him to your place?” Stiles suggests.

Fallon shakes her head, “My dad’s off tonight.”

“But he’s fine with Scott and I being there all the time,” Stiles shrugs.

“Because he knows you both,” Fallon counters. “We could probably get away with it if your dad didn’t tell him about all the crime life here,” she sighs. “But he does. So my dad knows what the almost dead werewolf here looks like,” she says, eyeing up the man in the passenger seat. “And let’s just say he wouldn’t exactly be keen on having an almost murderer in his house.”

“Thanks,” Derek shoots a glare her way.

“I’m not the one who reported you to the sheriff,” she reminds him. “Your issues are with him,” she points to Stiles, “and your bestie beta who’s currently finding the magical bullet to save your life.”

“I am going to claw your eyes out if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” his eyes flash blue in her direction.

“Take my ears off while you’re at it,” she suggests sarcastically. “That way I won’t have to hear you complain about everything.”

“I’m so confused whether you like each other or not,” Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

“Not,” Derek answers while Fallon says, “It’s complicated,” at the same time.

The two passengers jerk to the side as Stiles rapidly pulls over once more. He picks up his phone too fast, almost dropping it in the process as he brings it up to his ear. “Oh thank God,” he breathes out. “Did you find anything… Well, what are we supposed to do with him?” He groans.

Fallon leans forward, gripping Stiles’ chair, “What’s he saying?”

Stiles swats her away like a mother would her child. Fallon scrunches her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat offended. “And, by the way, he’s starting to smell,” there’s a short pause. “Like death.”

Derek sends Stiles a withering glance before turning to look at Fallon, “Do I really smell like death?” He questions.

“Are you sure you want me to answer?” She snarks with a quirked brow. “Wouldn’t wanna make you claw my eyes out or anything,” she mocks his previous statement. Derek clenches his fists as he stares at her and she just smiles fakely. “And yes, you do smell like death.”

“Yeah, and they won’t stop arguing like freakin’ children. I feel like I’m running a daycare here. They got along for like the first hour and then all hell broke loose,” Stiles complains. Both Fallon and Derek resist the urge to physically harm the boy in some way. The crease in Stiles’ forehead deepens at whatever Scott says, “What about your boss?”

Stiles throws his head back into his chair before holding the phone out for Derek to take, “You’re not gonna believe where he’s asking me to take you.”

Derek ignores him, taking the chance to talk to Scott. “Did you find it?” He waits for Scott to explain what he’s been doing for the past almost three hours. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, all right?… Then think about this-- the Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, either you kill with him, or you get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The jeep rolls up to the animal clinic, taking one of the many empty parking spaces by the back entrance. Fallon tells Stiles to go find the key to unlock the building and that she’ll get Derek. She runs around to the passenger side, opening the door for the man. They resume their position from earlier at the school, his arm haphazardly draped over her shoulders and her arms securely fastened around his waist . She drags him towards the door, Stiles holding it open as his phone buzzes with another message from Scott.

“Please tell me he found something,” she begs, panting heavily as she goes to set him down in the back room.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “Maybe…” He looks up from his device to glance at Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?” He asks.

Derek nods, his head flopping slightly so Fallon lifts it up. “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?” Fallon queries as they finally reach the table. She pushes his body against it so she’s not holding him up entirely on her own.

Derek looks up at her weakly, “ ‘Cause I’m gonna die without it.”

Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach, “Crap…” she mumbles with a shaky exhale. She turns to look at Stiles, “Tell him to get here. Now.”

The threatening sound in her voice has Stiles scrambling to send Scott the message, informing him of the scary look on Fallon’s face. Derek begins tearing off hit clothing, ripping off his leather jacket smoothly before pulling his shirt with one hand over his head. He discards them by throwing them across the room before collapsing against the table once more. He lays his arm out for display, the bullet hole being a strange blue color, no doubt a reaction from the wolfsbane that’s slowly inching towards his heart. The blood dripping out of him is now black while the same color veins stretch up his arm from the wound.

Stiles bites his fist at the sight, gagging as he tries not to vomit all over the place. “Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of,” he waves off optimistically, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Fallon smacks him, “We are not leaving him, Stiles. He’s dying.” She shuffles through Destin’s things, trying to find some sort of surgical tool. “What we should do is get the bullet fragments out and try to stitch it up.” Working in the hospital has some perks. She might not legally be allowed to perform such a procedure, but nothing about this screams concern for legality.

“That won’t work,” Derek shakes his head which stops her from looking. “It’s already in my system. When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” he breathes out.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” He snarks sarcastically.

“Why don’t you try being shot in the arm,” Fallon quips back at her friend.

Stiles throws his hands up with an exhausted scoff, “Who’s side are you on?! One minute you’re arguing with him and telling him to die, the next you’re yelling at me! Make up your damn mind!”

Derek rips off Fallon's tourniquet, interrupting their argument as he attempts to replace it with a blue elastic band. She watches as he goes to tie it with his mouth and stops him. He glares at her as she takes it from him, a glare which she reciprocates before helping him put it in the same spot the other was. “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort,” he pants while looking through the drawers.

“Which is what?” Fallon questions.

He pulls out a small saw making her and Stiles grow paler than him. “You’re gonna cut off my arm.”

“Me?!” Fallon shouts, about ready to go along with Stiles’ plan and run out of there.

“No,” he denies before glancing at freckles. “Stiles.”

“What?!” He screams the same way Fallon did. “No. No, no, no, no, no, that’s not fair! Why do I have to do it? She’s more heartless than I am, she can do it,” he points.

Fallon scoffs and goes to rip him a new one, but Derek cuts her off. “No, Fallon needs to hold me down.”

“Why can’t I do that?” Stiles throws his arms up.

“Because looking between the two of you, I can tell her arms won’t snap if I start to push back,” Derek insults. “I need someone with muscle to be able to keep me from squirming.”

Stiles looks more than offended, “I- I have muscle,” he counters.

Derek sends him a pointed look which makes the boy shrink in on himself. Fallon takes a nervous step forward, standing next to Derek as she gets ready to hold him down. I’ll just close my eyes, she tells herself. I won’t get nightmares. This’ll be fine.

“What if you start begging me to let go and it’s too late?” She asks him, her concerns growing with every second she stares at the saw.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he answers.

“How do you know?” She scoffs. The black veins in his arm are starting to become much more prominent. “What if you try to tell me to let go because you’re bleeding out and I don’t hear you? Then you die from getting your arm sawed off. I don’t want to watch you die.”

Derek leans further into the table, “It’ll heal if it works.”

Stiles eyes the saw with a sickly expression. He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits, his overactive imagination not doing him any favors.

“Why not?” Derek says impatiently.

Stiles looks at him like he’s stupid, “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!” He lists off exasperatedly.

“You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asks incredulously.

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!” Stiles screeches in response.

“All right, fine. How about this– either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head,” Derek threatens.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats any–” Derek cuts him off by yanking him forward by the collar of his shirt. Stiles’ eyes widen as he tries to get out of his hold. “Oh, my God!” He gasps. “Okay. All right. Bought. Sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it.”

Derek let’s go of him, the boy pushing himself away from the older werewolf. He turns to say something to Fallon, but she can see the distant look on his face. “Derek, what’s wrong?” She asks attentively. Instead of answering, his cheeks puff out and he lurches forward. Her eyes widen and she tries to take a step back, covering her face with her arms. His mouth flies open and black projectile vomit comes out of his mouth, splattering all over her. She gasps as the hot liquid drips down her body.

Fallon exhales with a small whimper. She shakes her hands, some of the vomit flinging off of her fingers. “It’s fine…” she tries to convince herself. “Everything’s fine… I didn’t even like this shirt anyway.”

Stiles' jaw hits the floor, his own bile rising in his throat. “Holy God, what the hell is that?!”

Fallon turns to Stiles, her facial expression is blank. “Stiles,” she wipes her cheek. “Do what he says.”

“But–” he goes to point at the saw.

“Now!” She screams at him. Despite the vomit all over her, she walks behind Derek and gets a good grip on him. She holds his arm in place and glares at Stiles, “Do it, now.” She orders, nodding towards the saw.

He grabs the saw for a moment before looking up to protest, “Look, honestly, I don’t think I can–”

“Just do it!” Derek and Fallon yell at the same time.

Stiles jumps at how scary their symphony of voices sound together. “Oh, my God. Okay, okay…” He starts the saw, a loud sound accompanying it. He starts putting it towards Derek’s arm, “Oh, my God.... All right, here we go…”

“Stiles! Fallon!” Scott’s voice rings through the clinic.

“Scott?” Stiles looks hopeful, glancing away from the death tool in his hand.

When Scott runs in, the first thing he sees is Fallon practically pinning Derek down while Stiles holds a miniature saw to his arm. His lopsided jaw goes slack, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Stiles turns the saw off, stepping away from it with a relieved smile. “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares,” he thanks his best friend.

Fallon steps away from Derek, every step she takes coming with a small ‘squelch’ sound. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbles.

The older man looks at Scott eagerly, “Did you get it?” He asks, searching for any sign of the bullet.

Scott reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bullet and handing it to Derek. “What are you gonna do with it?” The brunette girl asks, wiping her face off with a towel she found near one of the kennels.

Derek holds the bullet up, “I’m gonna–” he stumbles, his speech much weaker. “I’m gonna–” Out of nowhere, the cure Scott worked so hard to find falls out of his fingers. Derek collapses, hitting the ground roughly as Scott and Stiles try to go after the bullet.

Fallon drops to her knees, eyes going wide as she stares at Derek’s unconscious form. She cups the side of his face with her right hand, shaking his shoulder with the other. He doesn’t move. “Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!” She pleads. Scott and Stiles are babbling in the distance, but she can’t understand a word they’re saying as her entire focus is on the almost dead man below her. Her eyes scan his body and her breath hitches when she notices his chest isn’t rising. She puts her fingers to his neck trying to find any sign of a pulse. It’s there, but not very strong. The weakest pulse she’s felt. Fallon wracks her brain for any kind of medical information she’s learned from the hospital to wake him up.

Her eyes lighten up as she leans forward, opening his mouth to see if there is any blockage. She notices chunks of the black vomit he spat at her earlier blocking his airway. She sticks her pointer and middle finger in his mouth, swiping out the liquid. She then quickly turns him on his side before putting her hand into a fist and hitting him in the back as hard as she can. His eyes shoot open, blue flashing across them as he coughs more blood on Fallon. She cringes but keeps patting his back to make sure all of it leaves his system.

“I got it!” Scott screams. “I got it!”

Stiles looks at Fallon with shock on his face, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“The hospital,” she utters out quickly, bringing Derek to his feet. “I’ve seen Melissa do it on a choking baby. Obviously with much less force, but same principle.”

“Give me–” Derek gasps in pain as he takes the bullet from Scott’s hand, biting off the tip to expose where the gunpowder is. He empties it into his hand before pushing it forcefully into the wound. He howls loudly as blue smoke starts floating up from the gunshot hole. His face turns red as he falls back to the floor, writhing around in pain. His back arches upwards as he tries to fight against screaming anymore than he already has. Fallon watches in awe as his wound begins to heal at a rapid pace, the black veins slowly disappearing until the injury is completely gone.

“That… was… Awesome!” Stiles exclaims with a clap of his hands. He pumps his fist in the air as if they just got off of an amusement park ride. “Yes!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Fallon tells him blatantly. Stiles’ face falls, but he knows better than to continue testing her. She walks closer to Derek, sticking her hand out to help him off the floor. “Are you okay?” She asks genuinely.

Derek accepts her offer, using her to get himself up. “Well, except for the agonizing pain…” he says sarcastically.

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health,” Stiles comments, crossing his arms. Derek sends a death stare his way making Fallon rolls her eyes as she moves away from him and over to where Stiles is standing.

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?” He instructs Derek. “And, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything–” the threat is cut off by Derek who looks absolutely appalled by what he just said.

“You’re gonna trust them?!” He narrows his eyes. “You think they can help you?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, why not?” He yells loudly. “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!”

Derek surges forward angrily, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sighs tiredly as she parks her motorcycle in front of her house. Her eyes are practically closing as she trudges through the front door. Stiles had taken her back to the School to get her bike after Derek took Scott to show him how “evil” the Argents are. She closes the front door, a small click echoing behind her.

“Where have you been?”

Fallon flinches as the light to the living room suddenly flicks on. Michael is sitting in his chair in the living room, a book in his lap with a reading lamp sitting beside him. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“I asked you a question,” he says. “Where have you been? It’s two in the morning.” His voice is more than just concerned or worried. He’s disappointed.

Fallon places her helmet on the kitchen counter before turning back to her dad, “I was out with Scott and Stiles,” she answers.

“Doing what?” He continues questioning. “You all know there’s a police enforced curfew, right? None of you should be out this late, especially on a school night,” he crosses his arms as he walks over to his daughter. “You didn’t text, call, nothing. I had no idea where you were. Now, normally I don’t care because I know you’re responsible, and ninety percent of the time you’re with the boys. But with everything that’s going on, the murders, the dead bodies, you need to start being more communicative.”

“Dad, all we did was drive around,” she defends. “Stiles wanted to go get food and stuff after school, so we went and did that and just hung out around town.”

“Really?” He asks, disbelieving every word coming out of her mouth. “Just eating and driving around?”

“Yes,” she shrugs.

“Then why not shoot me a text?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s too hard, do you?”

“No,” she sighs, getting tired of this conversation already. “I’m sorry. Next time I plan on being out late, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”

“Oh no,” Michael shakes his head. “There will be no next time. From now on, you will be home by the enforced curfew time. If the boys want to come over and stay the night, you know I have no problem with that. But you will not leave this house anytime after that, do you understand me?”

Fallon scoffs, “Dad, are you serious?” She says upsetly.

“Dead serious young lady,” he nods. “I don’t want to leave my shift at the hospital getting a call from Noah saying that they found my daughter's dead body somewhere in the woods. It’s dangerous out there, Fallon. I’m not going to allow you to engage in reckless behavior. I’m your father. It’s my job to keep you safe. You might hate me now, but it’s for the best,” he shuts his lamp off, setting his book back on their shared bookshelf in the living room. “You can complain about me all you want to the boys, but I’ve made up my mind,” he walks over towards the stairs before glancing back at his daughter. “Now go to bed. You still have school in the morning. You get to deal with the consequence of being tired.”

She watches after her father, shock written all over her face. She just saved a man’s life and pretty much got grounded at the same time. Michael is a very easy going parent. She got lucky in the dad department, and she knows that. Seeing and hearing him talk to her like that isn’t common. They usually don’t have issues to this extent. They have a mutual trust. But if he’s really that worried that he’s willing to confine her to the house, she’s going to have to listen to him.

Or get a lot more creative on how to sneak out.

The Tell 1x05

Episode 6

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

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

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

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

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

“Can somebody help me find The Notebook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I understand that–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods, “I do. I’m alright.”

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he might come back for you?”

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

“If he bit you?” Derek wonders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever not read?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “The Argent’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he nods. “We’re friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

He denies, “No.”

“Yes,” she scoffs.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fallon turns to him confused, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Something!” Stiles emphasizes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, please do.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

“Fall,” his voice comes through the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I should?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” He wonders hopefully.

“Yeah,” she confirms gently.

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

“I will. Bye Sti.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, dad?” She responds.

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

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

“I’m not–”

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

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

“Yes,” she breathes out. “I’m done.”

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

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

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

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

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

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

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

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

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

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

Michael raises an amused eyebrow, “Duly noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael feigns surprise, “Really? How so?”

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

“Language,” Michael laughs.

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

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

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

She smiles up at him, “Thanks dad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Allison!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for making it back before Derek left.

Heart Monitor 1x06

Episode 7

To Fallon’s surprise, after her accident and spending pretty much all night in the hospital, when she returned home, Derek was still there. Pretty engrossed in his book to her delight. He was pretty concerned about her leg, which happened to be a clean break. He was furious when he found out what happened, but so was Stiles. It was interesting hearing them say pretty much the exact same thing without the other knowing. They both unknowingly agreed that Scott needs to step away from Allison to regain focus.

Stiles’ idea of getting Scott to understand his mistakes is by giving him the silent treatment. So sitting in their shared class, Fallon stares blankly at the white board, periodically writing down notes as Scott desperately tries to get them to talk to him. After a while she did start to feel bad. He has apologized incessantly since the accident and while Fallon did originally want to hit him with a car of her own, she slowly began to miss talking to him.

“Seriously?” Scott sighs upsetly. “You guys seriously are still not talking to me?” No response. “Fallon, you know how sorry I am. I mean, at least it was a clean break, right? My mom says they have a better chance at healing without complications.”

The girl looks down at the white cast covering her leg. He’s right, clean breaks do have a better chance at healing fully. She’s devastated though that she’ll have to sit out at lacrosse practice for the next couple of weeks, which is actually one of the main reasons she wanted to wring Scott’s neck. But knowing Coach, he’ll kill Scott before she does.

She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. She pops one into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. She didn’t do it as a way to make Scott feel bad, but seeing him hang his head in shame out of the corner of her eye did make her feel slightly vindicated.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” He tries once again. Fallon can hear the sadness in his voice. She glances at Stiles, seeing if he’s ready to give in yet. Freckles shakes his head, commanding her with his eyes to stand her ground. She huffs, dropping her head into her hand with a frown. Scott leans forward even further, tapping Fallon on the shoulder. “Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... that I went to Derek for help?”

Fallon’s head snaps towards Stiles faster than it ever has before. She makes a wild gesture with her hands, showing how desperately she wants to give her opinion on the matter. Stiles tries to stay strong, but the pleading look in her eyes causes him to groan. He exhales loudly out of his nose, “If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting im. But, obviously, I'm not talking to you…”

Fallon’s lip quirks up in a small smile. She lazily writes in her notebook, pretending not to care. “And if I was talking to you, I’d say that I’m proud of you for stepping up and getting help from someone who has more experience with this than you.” Stiles glares at her for complimenting him and she just shrugs. “It’s like the devil and angel on the shoulder thing,” she explains. “I’m the nice one.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles narrows his eyes, “And I’ve kissed Taylor Swift.”

Scott smiles brightly as things seem to return to normal between the three for a moment. Her and Stiles make eye contact, faces going stoic for a split second. They wordlessly communicate, making Scott wonder how they learned to read each other’s facial expressions so well. Both of them turn around at the same time.

“What did Derek say?”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Walking out of their class together, Scott sticks to Fallon’s side which isn’t heavily unusual, but she’s used to him taking up Stiles’ side, not hers. Most of the time when they walk together, Stiles is in the middle while Fallon takes up his left and Scott his right. But now she’s in the middle. She doesn’t mind it, it’s clearly him feeling guilty over what happened. He even took her backpack from her before she could even grab her crutches. If this is the new treatment he’s giving her, she’s definitely not going to complain.

“Wh--? He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks him incredulously after hearing what Derek said to Scott.

“Yeah…”

“All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” He gestures between Fallon and himself.

Scott sighs, “I know. That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it,” he explains.

Fallon tilts her head in thought, “I mean, it’s not impossible…” she admits. “I know it feels difficult right now, but Derek has control doesn’t he?” She points out with a shrug. “He obviously learned how to do it over time. I don’t think he came out knowing how to be a werewolf. While I do believe he came out with a leather jacket and angry cat face, I don’t think he came out being an expert on control.”

“How do you think he’s going to teach you?” Stiles asks, nodding along with Fallon’s statement.

“I don’t know,” Scott adjusts his backpack strap with an unsure expression. “I don’t think he does either…”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend's lack of knowledge, “Okay. When are you seeing him again?”

“He told me not to talk about it,” Scott answers. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Fallon shoots him a pointed look, “When?” She asks, knowing there has to be a more specific time than that.

Scott looks at her, huffing as he knows he can’t keep anything from her after letting her get run over. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

Stiles nods, “After work. All right. Well, that gives us to the end of the school day then.”

Scott furrows his brows, “To do what?”

Stiles and Fallon make eye contact, smiling in unison, “To teach you ourselves.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When lunch rolled around, Fallon was summoned by Lydia and Allison, the two girls wanting to see how she was doing after all that happened. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long as Stiles strode by, grabbing her backpack and lunch tray and taking it over to their usual table. She watched after him, jaw agape while the other two girls just looked at her confused. He just stared at her, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to hobble over to him. Seeing as he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, she bid her two friends goodbye before venturing over to him.

That brings them to the present moment, her smacking the back of his head for his rude behavior. “Y’know you could’ve just asked me to sit with you like a normal person,” she scolds, plopping down in her seat.

Stiles takes her crutches, putting them on his other side so they’re not in her way. “If I would’ve done that you would’ve just put your finger up and told me to wait,” he points out. “At least this way, you couldn’t tell me no,” he smiles innocently.

Fallon narrows her eyes but can’t prevent the grin that spreads across her face. She shoves him playfully, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re not mad at me,” he rolls his eyes, popping a french fry from her plate into his mouth. “You can’t be mad at me. You love me too much. Your life would be so boring without me in it.”

“What you call boring most people would consider peaceful,” she shoots back sarcastically.

Stiles reaches over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him as he messes up her hair. The two of them roughhouse for a moment before Scott not-so-subtly slides into the seat across from them, clearly still avoiding Allison.

Fallon tilts her head, still stuck in Stiles’ lap. They stare at him as he hides his face behind one of his textbooks. The girl lifts an eyebrow, “I think using the book as a shield is making your intentions more obvious,” she says. “Besides, she’s not even looking over here. She seems pretty engrossed in whatever that book is about.”

Scott peeks over the pages, noticing that his somewhat girlfriend isn’t looking in his direction. He exhales, lowering the book but not straightening his posture to full height. “So, did you guys come up with a plan yet?”

Stiles nods, silently checking with Fallon. “We think so.”

He stares at them hopefully, “Does that mean you guys don’t hate me now?”

“No,” Fallon takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“No,” Stiles scoffs in agreement. “But your crap has infiltrated Fallon and I’s life, so now we have to do something about it,” he answers sassily. “Plus, I’m definitely a better Yoda than Derek.”

“I choose to take on a more Haymitch Abernathy role in this situation,” Fallon shrugs. “Drunkenly making sure my pseudo children don’t kill themselves,” she points at the two boys.

“Okay,” Scott nods with a small smile. “Yeah, you guys can teach me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your Yoda,” Stiles smiles.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says in a gruff voice, trying his best to mock the character from the films. Fallon chuckles, shaking her head at how horrible it was. “I said it backwards,” Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, I-I know,” Scott nods slowly, showing how he still has never watched the movies, despite how many times Stiles has begged.

“All right, you know what?” Stiles gets up angrily, grabbing Fallon’s bag and crutches before helping her up. “I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.”

He storms off, Fallon huffing as she tries to keep pace. She shoots Scott an apologetic glance, but by the way Allison is approaching him, Stiles having a fit about Star Wars is the least of the werewolf’s worries.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon’s theatre class had ended up being rather active for the girl’s current predicament. They were introducing new stretches and class bonding exercises to get everyone ready for the Beauty and the Beast production. She was upset that she couldn’t participate, but her teacher, Ms. Potter was more than understanding. She gave Fallon the script early, granting her a free period to read over it since she can’t do any of the activities in class.

So now she sits with a highlighter dangling from her mouth on the lacrosse field, her legs sprawled out. Her eyes gaze over the pages, writing small notes in her notebook about each character and what makes them tick. She briefly glances up as Stiles throws the equipment for Scott on the floor, looking at her with curiosity.

“What are you reading?” He asks, tossing his lacrosse bag at her to hold.

She catches it with ease, setting it down beside her. “The script for the play.”

“Oh,” he comments, not knowing it was that time already. “When are auditions?”

“Next week,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “I don’t think I’m gonna audition though. There’s just too much going on.”

Stiles looks at her incredulously, “What?” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. You have to audition.”

“Stiles–”

“Fall, you are so good at singing,” he huffs. “You can’t just not audition. That would be like a crime to everyone’s ear holes.”

She playfully glares at him, “While I appreciate the compliment, there will be other shows for me to do. Right now, my priority is here with you and Scott.” She leans back on her arms, “Plus, I’m kind of stretched thin as it is with lacrosse and school,” she opens up honestly. “My counselor is already talking about enrolling me in a college English course next semester, so I just want to focus on getting through high school… and not getting ripped apart by a werewolf in the process.”

He looks at her with sympathy, but ultimately understands where she’s coming from. “All right. Well, you know that Scott and I would go see every show if you did decide to do it.”

“I know,” she smiles appreciatively.

At that moment, Scott comes running out of the school and over to his two friends. He stops in front of them, “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “It took me a minute to convince Mr. Smith to give me a free period,” he sets his backpack on the floor next to Fallon as well.

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off hurriedly, grabbing something and handing it to Scott. “Okay. Now, put this on,” he commands.

Scott takes it, inspecting it with a confused look, “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He queries, unsure of how it would benefit them.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Fallon corrects nonchalantly, still observing the script.

Stiles speaks defensively, “Temporarily misappropriated,” he counters before turning his attention back to Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Fallon shakes her head as Stiles pulls out a cellphone that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Scott’s jaw goes slack, “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?” He asks warily.

Stiles nods slowly, “That… I stole.”

“Why?” Scott looks at his friend, not even knowing where to start on labeling his issues.

“Because Master Yoda over here doesn’t understand the concept of rules,” Fallon smirks as Stiles looks more than offended. “Or laws, or personal boundaries. A side effect of your father being the sheriff.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear it,” he puts his hand up in her direction. “Last time I checked, that father got you out of a speeding ticket last week when you were practically flying through a residential area like Wolverine in X-Men Origins.”

“That was a very specific comparison,” Fallon snickers.

“Anyway…” he sends Fallon a look that says to stop interrupting unless she plans on being helpful. He points to the monitor on Scott’s wrist, “All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry... Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate,” he carefully explains the theory him and Fallon had been talking about.

“Like the Incredible Hulk?”

Fallon shrugs, “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.” She figures letting him think he’s a superhero will get him to try harder. It’s like Stiles and his unnatural fixation with becoming Spiderman. She lets him believe it could happen. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did. He definitely wouldn’t look half bad in the suit.

Scott smiles widely, “No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Would you shut up and put the strap on?”

The spastic boy tosses Fallon the phone, assigning her to keep track of his heart rate. The two boys travel out to the center of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott’s arms behind his back. Freckles smiles mischievously at Fallon from behind Scott. She raises an amused eyebrow, knowing this is Stiles getting revenge for the brunette girl.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!” Scott complains as Stiles walks a few feet away, bending down to pick up his own lacrosse stick.

He blatantly ignores Scott’s words, “All right. You ready?” He asks, scooping a ball into his net.

“No.”

“Remember– don’t get angry,” Stiles warns him, cocking his arm back to launch the ball.

Scott shifts on his feet, eyeing Stiles unsurely. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” he voices.

Without another words, Stiles chucks the ball at Scott’s body, pelting him roughly. Fallon winces from her spot besides Stiles, glancing at the heart rate monitor. Still steady for now, only moving up one point. Stiles readies another ball, throwing it as hard as he can, nailing Scott in the chest.

“Oh, man!” The boy cries out. “Okay, that one kind of hurt.”

Fallon watches as a small satisfied smile makes its way onto Stiles’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, offering his stick, “Wanna give it a go? It’s pretty therapeutic actually.”

“No!” Scott shouts with wide eyes. “Do not give her that stick.”

Stiles shushes him like a child, “Quiet. Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm.” He reminds before smirking as he helps Fallon to her feet. He hands her the stick, looking Scott directly in the eye. He pats her back, helping her stay upright. “Give it a go.”

Scott starts muttering encouraging words to himself under his breath as Fallon adjusts her grip on the stick. She smoothly scoops up a ball, licking her bottom lip. She lifts the stick, throwing it roughly at her best friend. The ball collides harshly with his gut, making him double over in pain. It sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“AHHH! Son of a bitch!”

“Nice!” Stiles chuckles, high fiving her. Scott shoots them an incredulous look which makes Stiles clear his throat awkwardly. He dismisses Scott, “Heart rate,” he points stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Scott screams at them with a heavily clenched jaw.

Fallon goes to sit back down, noticing his number climbing higher with every passing second. She shares a warning glance with Stiles before looking at Scott again. “Don't get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry!” He responds frustratedly.

Stiles continues his assault on Scott as Fallon carefully monitors Coach’s phone. She begins to get nervous as she watches the numbers climb higher and higher. 140. 141. 142. That’s when Stiles knocks him in the jaw, making Scott almost fall to the ground in pain. The boy tries to regain his footing, “Stop. Just wait– Wait, just hold on–” he groans, doubling over once again, but this time he actually collapses to the floor.

157. 158. 159. 160.

“Stiles!” Fallon gets his attention, a cautionary gaze in her eyes as she flashes him the phone. Scott continues groaning as Stiles places his stick on the floor. Suddenly the duct tape around his wrist flies off in different directions. Stiles and Fallon watch him with wide eyes. He’s shifting. The heart monitor starts beeping rapidly, his heart rate reaching high numbers that are nowhere near healthy for a normal person.

“Scott?” Stiles calls out warily, trying to find a way to calm him down.

His breathing gets heavier and deeper after a moment as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Fallon glances back at the phone to see the numbers slowly decreasing and returning to normal. She and Stiles let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“That could’ve gone in a seriously horrific direction,” she mumbles to him.

Stiles nods slowly, helping Fallon to her feet. The two of them travel over to the boy who is still folded over on the ground. “Scott, you started to change…” Stiles says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott breathes heavily as his pulse is still returning to normal, “From anger,” he adds. “But it was more than just that– it was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So Derek is right,” Fallon says thoughtfully. “It is anger that elicits a reaction.”

Scott shakes his head defeatedly, “I can’t be around Allison,” he says glumly.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles questions.

“No…” he looks up at them sadly. “Because she makes me weak.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks alongside Stiles as they walk into Coach’s economics class. The two of them snicker at a joke Fallon told him on the way in, earning a confused glance from their teacher. For how funny that man is, he sure doesn’t seem to be a big fan of laughter. The two teens just giggle again at his look of confusion before finishing their journey to the middle of the class. Stiles sets Fallon’s stuff down in the chair next to Scott’s, the two boys not having let her carry anything of her own all day. It was endearing and annoying at the same time, but she let them do it.

Stiles goes to sit behind Fallon, but a quick panicked look from Scott gets his attention. “Stiles. Sit behind me!” He whisper yells.

Fallon looks up and sees Allison beelining it for the exact same seat. Stiles scrambles to the side, trying to get all of his belongings and himself into the chair before she can. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Allison smoothly slides into the seat, smiling at Scott as she completely ignores Stiles. Scott turns in his chair, a frown plastered on his face as his plan to avoid Allison is not going as well as he hoped.

Fallon shoots Scott a sympathetic smile before reaching in her backpack to bring out last night's homework assignment. It wasn’t anything too difficult. Just a few pages of reading and a couple of questions to help summarize the important parts.

The bell rings loudly, indicating the start of the period. Coach turns to start writing about today’s topic of discussion on the board. She watches out of her peripherals as Allison leans forward in her desk to get closer to Scott. The boy tenses, sensing her growing closer in proximity. Allison doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension as she goes to talk to him.

“Hey,” she smiles happily. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Scott barely looks back, “Uh, yeah. I’ve been, uh, super busy,” he looks at Stiles and Fallon for help.

His two friends shrug at his misfortune, Fallon sinking further into her chair to avoid watching this train wreck go down. Scott has a look of momentary desperation until he has to cover it up when Allison grows closer. “When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

Yikes. Fallon’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles.

She sneakily pulls it out, hiding it underneath her desk to respond. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed for her or for him.

She’s clueless and he’s awkward. Why can’t it be both?

True. She giggles at his reply. I feel bad. They’re both happy when they’re together. Sucks that they can’t be.

I mean, we don’t know that yet. Stiles counters.

He said she makes him weak. She reminds him.

Once he learns how to control it, it’ll be fine. He reassures her. We just gotta show him that he won’t hurt her. Or anyone else.

Yeah, ‘cause this gross couple-ey mutual pining crap is starting to get on my nerves. She rolls her eyes as Allison tells Scott she switched her lab partner to him. She loves them both together, she really does. But Fallon’s hopeless romanticism stops in the fictional worlds she reads about.

You’re such a romantic. Stiles smirks at her with sarcasm written on his face. It really is a shock that you’re still single.

Ditto.

Stiles kicks the back of her chair and she leans her head back, looking at him upside down. She smiles innocently, booping his nose before sitting upright again. He scoffs lowly, crossing his arms as he tries to act offended by her response.

A book slamming on a desk pulls everyone’s attention to the front. Coach Finstock has a menacing look on his face as he analyzes the class, “Let’s settle down,” he commands. “Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” Only one individual raises their hand, causing Coach to roll his eyes. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading,” he dismisses the boy, more annoyed now than he was before class. “How about, uh…” Everyone avoids eye contact with their teacher like the plague, trying to avoid being the one he calls on. “McCall!”

Scott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, “What?”

Coach moves to sit on his desk, the tension within the small classroom slowly growing. “The reading.”

Scott shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “… Last night's reading?” He wonders, seemingly trying to stall so he doesn’t have to do it.

Coach grows irritated with the question, starting to realize that Scott didn’t do the assignment, “H-How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?” He suggests sardonically making the rest of the class laugh. Fallon wiggles her own between her fingers nervously. Coach making fun of him like this is going to make him shift in front of everyone.

Scott looks even more confused, “What?”

“That’s sarcasm,” Coach reveals with a tilt of his head. “You familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?”

He slowly turns to the two friends on his right, “Very,” he answers. Fallon simply glares at him while Stiles smiles proudly, patting Fallon’s back like it’s a team effort. Which, most of the time it is.

Coach huffs, looking at him expectantly, “Did you do the reading, or not?”

The boy plays with the pages of the book in front of him, his embarrassment increasing. “Um, I think I forgot…”

“Nice work, McCall,” his teacher praises fakely. “It’s not like you’re not averaging a D in this class.” He leans forward on Scott’s desk, his anger being replaced by concern. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a D.”

Fallon’s attention is stolen when she hears the familiar beeping of Coach’s phone tracking the heart monitor. She pulls it out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees Scott’s pulse rising. Stiles leans forward, watching along with her as the numbers start to increase with everything Coach says.

“How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” He suggests. 98. 99. 100.

Scott silently shakes his head, hoping that he somehow finds a supernatural way to turn invisible. “No?” Finstock mocks. “How about, the uh, the night before that?” Scott fiddles with his fingers as he avoids eye contact. 122. 123. 124. “How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read in your entire life?!” 135. 136. 137.

“I-I… uh–”

“No? A blog?” Coach asks, looking for any sort of hope that Scott’s done something. “How about, uh, h-how about, uh, the back of a cereal box?” Scott tries to hide his face behind his hand as their teacher continues grilling him. Fallon is now bouncing her leg up and down, hoping that Scott gets some sort of reprieve from this. “No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach gives up and goes to retreat back to his desk. “Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank. You. McCall.” He emphasizes with a slap to his desk. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” 159. 160. 161.

Fallon looks at Scott, trying to comfort him with a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t notice. His face simply grows redder and redder and his chest heaves up and down with angry breaths. “You just blew it for everybody,” Coach continues. “Thanks. Next practice, you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Suddenly the monitor stops beeping as rapidly. Fallon glances at it surprised as she watches his heart rate start to go down. Despite all the laughter and snickers from their classmates, it’s actually going down. Fallon and Stiles visibly relax and when they look over to their friend, they see his arm reaching backwards. Allison is holding his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb across the top of it comfortingly. Fallon tilts her head. Maybe Scott was right in a way. Allison is his weakness, but in a way that gives him control. She keeps his anger at bay, keeps him grounded.

When the bell rings, they all could not be happier to get out of there. Scott still looks a bit mortified after everything that happened. Stiles once again grabs Fallon’s bag, carrying it on his shoulder. Allison bids her goodbyes to Scott, heading in the opposite direction the trio is. As soon as they are sure she’s out of ear shot, Fallon smacks his arm, “Dude, it’s her.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, confused by the random statement.

“It’s Allison,” Fallon elaborates while Stiles nods along.

“Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?” He brings up. “You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay…” Scott says, still not understanding what they’re getting at.

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field,” Stiles adds, trying to see if he can put it together.

Scott nods with a small smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that's what brought you back so you could pass the ball and we could score,” Fallon finishes explaining. “And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her– at least, not like how you were trying to kill us.” Scott frowns, sending her a pointed look. Fallon huffs, “She’s like your anchor is what I’m saying. She brings you back. No need to get your werewolf panties in a bunch.”

Scott shakes his head at her statement, “No, no, no. But it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her, or-or touching her–”

Fallon’s nose scrunched up in disgust as Stiles cuts him off, “No, that’s not the same. When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y’know?”

“I really do not want to be having this conversation with you two,” Fallon grumbles uncomfortably, especially when she notices the smirk on Scott’s face. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t ever give me any details on anything you guys do, okay?” Fallon says before shaking off her disgust. “Anyway, back in the classroom when she held your hand, that was different. She may be your weakness per say, but not in the way you originally thought. I think she actually gives you control. You might go feral if she gets hurt, but that’s besides the point. She’s what actually keeps you human.”

“You mean because I love her?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods.

Fallon’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden admission. She wasn’t expecting Scott to just randomly admit that out loud. He apparently wasn’t expecting himself to say it either, “Did I just say that?” He asks them.

“Yeah,” Fallon smiles softly. “You did.”

Scott gets even more giddy than he already was, readjusting his straps as he continues to profess his love. “I love her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes impatiently, “That’s great! Now moving on–”

“No, no, no, really– I think I’m totally in love with her,” he insists.

“And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?” Stiles gesticulates over dramatically. “Because you obviously can't be around her all the time.”

Scott snaps back, refocusing on the task at hand. He nods, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Sorry. So, what do I do?”

“We don’t know,” the boy huffs, pausing for a moment. “Yet.”

Scott looks at him alarmed, “Oh, no. You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Stiles smirks.

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fallon nods, not knowing the specifics of the plan, but knowing Stiles well enough that it’s going to entail some more revenge.

Scott groans, “Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

Stiles nods rapidly, “Yeah, definitely. Come on.”

Fallon crutches along behind the two boys, furrowing her eyebrows as they head out to the parking lot. Stiles looks back at her and she tilts her head, silently asking what his plan is. The boy simply shakes his head, mouthing “just wait.”

Scott looks just as lost as Fallon, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles looks into the distance as if he’s checking something before turning around to instruct Scott. “Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott pulls them out to show him. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up like so,” he demonstrates, lazily holding his arm up in the air. “Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?”

“Okay…”

“Fallon, my partner in crime, come stand with me please,” Stiles requests and she moves over to him. “Just keep holding it right there…” He summons Fallon to follow him as he sneakily walks over to the black truck behind them. She narrows her eyes as she watches him pull out his own keys. Her jaw drops as Stiles nonchalantly keys the truck before sliding his keys back into his pocket. He taps her shoulder, telling her to call attention to it.

Fallon looks at Scott who’s silently begging her not to do what Stiles is saying. She glances back at Stiles who is just nodding menacingly. “Do it,” he whispers.

She sighs, sending Scott an apologetic look, “Dude! What the hell do you think you're doing to that truck?!” She yells fakely. Stiles has to hold back the mini celebration he wants to have as the owner of said truck turns around.

“What the hell?!” The student yells, approaching Scott who nervously fumbles with his keys. He tries to shake his head, saying it wasn’t him who did it, but the other student clearly isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God!” Fallon shouts, flinching backwards as the guy socks Scott in the face without hesitation.

Stiles grips onto her as Scott tries to fight the guy back, but he’s over powered when the other student’s friends decide to join in. Scott is thrown to the floor, giving the others the upper hand as they drag him backwards. They continue hitting him in the face and kicking his abdomen. Fallon hears the phone beeping once more and she sends Stiles a glare.

“This was your brilliant idea?” She snaps.

“If he just thinks of Allison, it should work!” He defends. His eyes travel back to Scott as Fallon pulls out the phone. His heart rate is spiking once again. “Ahh,” he taps his foot nervously. “Come on. Stay calm. Stay calm.”

Fallon looks over her shoulder, “Is there really no one here to stop this? No teachers? Nothing?” She asks with a scoff.

“Oh, that's not okay.” Stiles winces. 129. 130. 131. “Scott, come on, buddy…”

Fallon feels the need to interfere, but the way Stiles is clutching onto her prevents her from going anywhere. She holds her breath, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She knows Scott will heal from all of this, but it’s still hard for her to watch him get beat up like this.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Harris comes barreling through, barking at the assailants to stop. The brunette girl never thought she would be grateful to see Mr. Harris, but she stands corrected. The other boys run off, leaving Scott on the floor with a bloodied up nose and a decent amount of bruising. Something probably broke, but isn’t visible due to his supernatural healing.

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Harris asks harshly, glaring down at Scott through his glasses.

None of them could even bother responding to his insult, the only thing they’re focused on is the fact Scott managed to control his rage. Stiles and Fallon smile at each other.

“He did it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Detention.

Fallon should’ve assumed that this is where they were going to end up after Mr. Harris caught them outside. She just wished she brought something more entertaining to school today so she could occupy her mind while being stuck here. She has a chair pulled up at the end of Scott and Stiles’ table. The three of them sitting rather dejectedly even though they technically just succeeded in teaching Scott control.

The brunette girl sketches in her notebook, drawing the Beacon Hills woods from memory. Stiles watches her interestedly, leaning forward to look at her work. He tries not to move too far forward as her broken leg rests on his lap for some form of elevation.

“That's really good,” he compliments.

She smiles, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a scoff, like she’s stupid for even asking such a question. “Like I would frame that. Y’know, if I had the money to buy a frame… How about I hang it on my fridge?”

Fallon laughs softly, ripping the page out and handing it to him. “Do what makes you happy.”

He grins, carefully putting the drawing in his backpack. The two of them look at Scott who shifts around in his seat. He’s antsy to get out of here. After a moment, he finally speaks to Mr. Harris, “Excuse me, sir?” He gets their teacher’s attention. “Uh, I know it’s detention and all, but, uh… I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Despite Scott’s polite request, Mr. Harris just grins fakely at the boy, looking back down at the paper he is grading. Fallon shakes her head annoyed. She didn’t understand how someone who hates kids could choose a profession where they sit with them all day.

Scott tries to go back to working on his homework, but can’t stop himself from talking to his friends on the other side of him. “You knew I would heal,” he says, with an almost impressed tone of voice.

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “We both did.”

“So you did that to help me learn?”

“Yep,” he repeats, rubbing his hands together.

“…But partially to punish me.”

“Thought that one was obvious,” Fallon mutters, hitting her pen on the desk to a steady rhythm.

Scott sighs, looking at them sadly, “Guys, you’re my best friends,” he says, regret etched in his eyes. “And I can’t have you both being angry with me.”

Both her and Stiles pause for a moment. Fallon sucks in a deep breath, looking at Scott sincerely, “We’re not angry at you anymore.”

Stiles turns to him, “Look. You have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore– it means you have to do something.”

Scott nods his head, really taking in Stiles’ words. “I know,” he agrees. “And I will.”

“Just next time a car comes barreling at me and Allison, try to give me a five second warning so I can at least try to save myself,” Fallon says lightheartedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Scott shakes his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

Fallon smiles toothlessly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Stiles places his on top of theirs, all of them coming to a truce. Mr. Harris watches from afar, his frozen heart slightly touched by the display. He rolls his eyes, “All right, all three of you– out of here,” he gestures towards the door with his head.

The three of them look at him with wide eyes, but nonetheless stand up and start collecting their stuff. For once the boys allow Fallon to carry her own backpack. She wings it over her shoulder and adjusts herself on her crutches before following after them.

“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Harris calls out. She internally screams, not wanting to speak to him more than she has to, especially after what her father said to him on parent-teacher conference night.

She turns, “Yes sir?”

“I hope this shows that I do not hate you, Mr. McCall, or Mr. Stilinski. I meant what I said. I see a potential in you that I… struggle to see within them. Or at least I did,” he concedes. “But if I keep witnessing displays like that,” he refers to their conversation, “then perhaps I can admit where I was wrong. They aren’t all bad.”

Fallon shuffles awkwardly, not knowing how to react to him being kind. “Thank you?” She says it more as a question than statement.

Mr. Harris nods, “And I hope your leg gets better. I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

“Yeah…” she nods. “I’m all right though.”

“Well, have a good rest of your day,” he says, suddenly reverting back to his cold demeanor as he looks back down at the worksheets in front of him.

She sighs, heading back towards the door, “You too.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon didn’t even get a chance to get dropped off by Stiles before Scott called them, explaining that Derek showed up to the animal clinic and attacked Deaton. The older werewolf thinks that Scott’s boss may be the Alpha. Hearing that made the girl's blood run cold. She’s spoken to Deaton a couple of times and she never would have guessed him to be the murderous werewolf they’ve been looking for.

Scott requested them to come pick him up because he told Derek to meet them at the school. So Stiles and Fallon did a quick pit stop at his house to grab supplies they’ll need to break into the school and then they quickly go pick up their friend. When the arrive, Scott picks up Fallon, helping her out of the jeep.

They move to the trunk, Stiles glancing around worriedly, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott admits.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “But we’re still gonna do it…?” She asks incredulously.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott questions a bit harshly.

Stiles shrugs, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away…”

Scott gives him a deadpan look, “Just make sure we can get inside.”

The headlights from Derek’s Camaro practically blind Fallon as he pulls up. She glances down at her watch. Ten-thirty. She hopes her dad believed her when she said she’d be sleeping over at Stiles’. Noah and him are working the overnight shift so as long as they choose to believe her and Stiles, they should be okay.

“He’s here,” she mumbles to Scott and Stiles.

Scott’s the first one to approach Derek as he smoothly slides out of the driver’s seat. Fallon crutches behind Scott, peeking out from behind his shoulder to look at Derek. “Where’s my boss?” Scott demands darkly.

“He’s in the back,” Derek replies shortly, nodding to the back window of his car.

Fallon glances through the window seeing Deaton tied up and knocked out. She feels bad for the man, even if he is the Alpha, there is no way he's waking up without a creak in his neck. Stiles scoffs, “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” he comments sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, his suspect’s comfortability not a concern to him in the slightest. Stiles shakes his head in annoyance before waving at Scott to follow him towards the school. Fallon decided to stay outside as she didn’t feel like moving super far with her crutches if she didn’t have to. They tend to dig into her armpits when she walks around excessively. She removes them from under her arms and leans against the Camaro, figuring Derek wouldn’t mind.

“Wait–” Derek calls out, confused as to what they're doing. “Hey. What are you doing?”

Scott turns around, “You said I was linked with the Alpha– I’m gonna see if you’re right,” he replies before finishing his journey to the entrance of the school.

Fallon glances into the window and frowns when she looks at Deaton. She still can’t even fathom that he could be the Alpha. He’s so kind, gentle even. He takes care of animals, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.

Derek eyes her for a moment before slowly inching closer to her. He points to her leg, “How are you feeling?” His voice was low, gruff—almost like he was forcing himself to ask.

She looks up at him with a shrug, “Okay, I guess. Just a little sore. It’s also really hard to scratch when I have an itch,” she admits. “Not that you needed to know that last part.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, hands buried in his pockets. “Friends can share those details, can’t they?” He lifts an eyebrow, leaning against the car alongside her.

Fallon smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess they can.”

“Have you been taking your pain medication?” He questions curiously.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Actually… I may have forgotten tonight,” she says thoughtfully. “I left my backpack at Stiles’ house. Haven’t exactly had a minute of downtime today to think about it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she couldn’t help the slight edge of frustration that crept in. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, this...weak.

He glowers at her for a moment, “You better take it when you get back there,” he says strictly. “If you’re in pain, it’s only going to slow you down.”

She met his gaze, surprised at the concern lacing his words. It wasn’t like Derek to show he cared—at least, not openly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere fast, Hale.”

Derek huffed, almost like he was amused. Almost. “Good. Because if you do, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. “Are you offering to catch me if I do?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers for a beat too long. “You wouldn’t need to be caught if you were more careful,” he said finally, his tone firm but lacking its usual bite.

Fallon let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really bad at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Derek replied, his eyes flicking back to the school. But his posture had softened just a fraction, his stance less rigid than before.

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the night surrounding them. Fallon shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on her leg. “So what exactly was your original plan when you were gonna pick up Scott?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, “Teach him control,” he answers.

“Okay, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “But how?”

“Test him. See what he can handle. Try to help him find a way to ground himself,” he explains briefly. “And if he couldn’t figure it out…”

“Then you’d step in,” she finishes for him. She looks at him, “Would you hurt him?” She wonders softly. “Y’know… if he couldn’t do it.”

He glances at her again, his expression softening just a touch. “If he puts anyone else at risk, yes.”

She nods, appreciating his straightforwardness. It was something she’d come to value in Derek, even if he was rough around the edges. “I can handle myself, you know. A broken leg isn’t going to stop me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her leg before meeting hers again. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected. Fallon felt her chest tighten, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her. But instead of feeling stifled, she felt… understood.

“Thanks, Derek,” she says quietly, her voice sincere.

He gave a short nod, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before turning back to the school. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” he muttered, the gruffness back in his voice.

Fallon smiled to herself, leaning back against the car. “No promises.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere the wimpiest howl Fallon has ever heard echoes over the PA system. Her jaw drops as she fights off the urge to laugh. She couldn’t even think of what to classify that as. It sounded like a cat having gas pains.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek winces as if listening to that was physically painful. Truthfully, it was. She normally tries to be an encouraging person, but that was awful. She’s pretty sure her ears would have bled if it had gone on any longer. She silently hopes that Stiles finds some way to inspire Scott to dig deep. Because at this rate, there’s no way the Alpha is coming.

When the second howl comes through, it actually makes the girl jump. This one is deep and powerful. It manages to cause the building to shake, making the doors vibrate with a loud jangle. A surge of fear fills Fallon’s veins as she realizes that this is it. There’s no way the Alpha could ignore that. She’ll have to face him again. Derek can sense the sudden shift in her demeanor. He can smell the chemo signals radiating off of her. Her face remains still, but her insides are twisting in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Derek gets her attention. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassures.

She nods, not having the ability to come up with a more witty response. She tries to shake off the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, but it continues to linger over her. Eventually Scott and Stiles make it out of the school, meeting a very pissed off Derek and a concerned Fallon. “I’m gonna kill both of you,” the elder of them threatens furiously. “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott tries to apologize genuinely, but anyone can see how proud of himself he is. “Sorry… I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scoffs excitedly, “it was loud… And it was awesome…” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

Fallon can’t help but smirk, pushing her growing worries aside. “Gotta admit Scotty, that was impressive.” She stiffens when noticing Derek’s glare, “I mean– not impressive. Not impressive at all,” she clears her throat awkwardly.

Derek looks at her incredulously, “Shut up.”

Her lips form a tight-line. So much for the moment they just shared. Stiles narrows his eyes, “Don’t be such a sour-wolf,” he mocks, pulling Fallon closer to him and Scott. She stumbles slightly, trying to get ahold of her crutches.

“Could you be a bit gentler, please?” She scoffs.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks snippily, pointing to Derek’s car which is now open.

“What?” The man’s eyes widen as he turns around. He looks baffled as he sees the backseat is empty. The nervous feeling fills Fallon’s gut again. Deaton was knocked out cold. There’s no way he could just get up and walk out without at least one of them hearing him. “I didn’t do anything,” he tells them.

“He didn’t,” Fallon confirms. “We’ve been talking the whole time.”

However, nothing else can be said as hot blood spurts out of Derek’s mouth and onto Fallon’s face. She stumbles back in shock before screaming loudly. Derek is being lifted in the air, claws belonging to the Alpha ripping straight through his back. His green eyes are wide as he chokes on his own bodily fluids.

Fallon tries to tell herself to move, but her body won’t listen. Staring into the bright red eyes of the creature that invaded her space, who made her feel unsafe, rendered her paralyzed. She can’t even blink as she watches the Alpha chuck Derek across the parking lot into the wall of the school. His body hits the ground with a loud crash. She makes eye contact with the monster as Scott and Stiles pick her up, carrying her into the school. She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Again, the expression it wears is almost mocking. Like it’s silently telling her she’s existing on borrowed time.

She’s only brought back to earth when the doors to the school slam shut, both of the boys setting her on the ground before holding the doors closed. Her eyes still look distant, disturbed. Scott and Stiles share a concerned look, not just for their situation but for their friend who is once again covered in Derek’s blood.

Night School 1x07

“Lock it! Lock it!” Scott screams as he holds the left door shut for dear life. Fallon sits in between the two boys as panic sets in for all three of them.

“Does it look like I have a key?!” Stiles snaps.

“We’re gonna die,” Fallon mumbles, still staring off into the distance.

Stiles leans down, grabbing her hand, “Hey, look at me.” He forces her to meet his gaze by gently lifting her chin with his finger. “We’re not gonna die… At least not right now.”

“We will if you don’t grab something!” Scott screams at Stiles.

“What?” He looks around the area, trying to find something to lock the door with.

Scott waves his hands wildly, “Anything!”

Stiles huffs, completely overstimulated. He stands up and looks outside the window in the door and notices the bolt cutters they left outside. His eyes light up and Fallon can automatically tell what he’s thinking. She shakes her head, “Stiles… no.”

He looks down at her, “Yes!” He opens the door and shimmies his way out.

Scott scrambles to try and grab him, “No! Stiles, don’t–”

The door shuts, leaving Scott and Fallon inside as Stiles tries to sneakily grab the tool. The brunette girl struggles to get onto her good leg, barely peeking over the bottom of the window. She watches nervously as her friend analyzes the area, making sure the Alpha isn’t coming from another direction.

“Come on, Stiles…” she whispers nervously.

Stiles bends down, grabbing the bolt cutters and that’s when Fallon sees it. The Alpha crawls out from behind Stiles’ jeep, sights set on the spastic boy who still hasn’t noticed his presence. Fallon and Scott both start pounding heavily on the door, trying to get his attention. He turns to look at them, confused by the sudden commotion coming from them. That is until he follows their line of vision and sees the large creature bounding straight for him.

“Stiles, run!” Fallon screams.

He stays stunned for a moment until he realizes that his life is in imminent danger. He scrambles to his feet, tripping over himself slightly as he jumps back into the school, slamming the door shut behind him and sticking the bolt cutters in between the handles to hold it shut.

All three of them pant heavily before slowly moving to check outside again. Nothing. He’s gone. Their nerves spike again as they realize a gigantic werewolf has managed to disappear from view. “Where is it?” Scott asks breathily. “Where did it go?”

Stiles lifts his large LED lantern, flashing it through the window and partially blinding himself because of the reflection. They all continue looking for a moment, glancing in every direction but not seemingly able to find him. Her face is pale. She hates feeling terrified like this because she knows that the Alpha can sense it. He sensed it the night in the video store, and he sure as hell can sense it now.

“That won’t hold, will it?” Scott asks skeptically as he looks at their makeshift lock.

“Probably not,” Fallon replies grimly.

A loud howl causes them to jump out of their skin. Scott is quick to grab Fallon, putting her on his back as they run through the school. She clings onto him tightly, this ride being more bumpy than when she goes through the woods on her motorcycle. Stiles crashes into a classroom, Scott following closely behind with the previous cargo. He sets her down on a nearby chair, her crutches having been abandoned by the front doors to the school. Stiles grabs one side of the teacher’s desk, Scott grabbing the other as they go to move it towards the door.

“Shh! Stop, stop,” Stiles commands as the desk screeches loudly across the tile. He glances back at the door with a defeated sigh, “The door’s not gonna keep it out.”

“I know,” Scott huffs, removing his hands from the desk.

Stiles shakes his head, looking at Scott, “It’s your boss.”

“What?”

“Deaton? The Alpha? Your boss.” Stiles repeats, trying to make him realize the reality of their situation.

“No,” Scott denies.

“I mean, maybe,” Fallon mutters. Scott turns to her with narrowed eyes and she shrugs, “Come on, Scott. He was tied up in the back of the Camaro, then suddenly disappears? Only for the Alpha to show up ten seconds later and toss Derek across the freaking parking lot. Seems to add up, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not him,” he says determinedly.

“He killed Derek, Scott,” she reminds him, her heart beating faster as she replays the image of Derek’s body hitting the brick wall of the school. It’s also rather hard to forget as her once clean shirt is now covered in his blood.

“No,” Scott shakes his head. “Derek’s not dead. He can’t be dead.”

“Blood spurted out of his mouth, dude!” She exclaims. “I’m literally covered in it. The Alpha’s claws literally stabbed him through the back. He was thrown into a brick wall,” she lists off with a scoff. “And you think he’s not dead? He’s gone, Scott. And if the Alpha can take out a werewolf like Derek that easily, what do you think he’s gonna do to us, hm?”

Scott knows she’s right, “Okay just–” he sighs, “What do we do?”

“We get to my Jeep. We get out of here. And you seriously think about quitting your job,” Stiles rattles off his plan. “Good?” He doesn’t wait for a response before traveling over to the windows. Scott follows him while Fallon hops her way over. She pauses behind them as Scott tries to fiddle with the latch, the window not budging.

Stiles grabs his arm, “No, they don’t open. The school’s climate-controlled.”

“So break it,” Fallon says exasperatedly.

“Which would make a lot of noise,” Stiles counters logically.

“It doesn’t matter how much noise we make!” She exclaims. “He can hear our heartbeats and us talking right now anyway! He also has Scott and my scent,” she argues. “I don’t think smashing a window is going to make our situation any worse.”

Stiles goes to continue arguing but Scott stops him, “Stiles, what’s wrong with the hood of your jeep?” He questions, looking out the window with wide eyes.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “What do you mean?” He asks defensively, going to look out the window himself. “Nothing’s wrong…”

“It’s bent,” Fallon breathes out, tilting her head as she gazes out the window as well.

“What, like, dented?”

“No, Stiles, I mean bent,” Fallon insists. “Like half of it sticking in the air bent.”

The boy gasps when he sees what they’re talking about, “What the hell…?”

Their curiosity is cut off by the window above them shattering. They all scream, ducking down on the floor to take some sort of cover as a large object flies overhead and lands only a few feet in front of them. From the looks of it, none of them were hit by any falling glass, but the night is still young.

Fallon’s jaw hits the floor, pointing forward, “…That’s your battery,” she says to the boy next to her.

A small whimper leaves Stiles’ mouth as he thinks of how expensive replacing that part is going to be. He stares at it upsetly for another few seconds before shuffling forward to leave. Scott grabs him with a pointed look, “Don’t.”

“We have to move,” Stiles insists.

“He could be right outside!”

Fallon looks at Scott like he’s dumb, “He is right outside! And I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna sit here and wait for him to come and eat me.”

Scott sits up slightly, sighing, “Just let me take a look.”

They wait as he scans over the parking lot once more, the Alpha absent from sight. Stiles glances up, “Nothing?” He wonders.

“No,” Scott shakes his head with a trembling breath.

“Move now?” Fallon requests, already using the desk next to her to get on her feet.

Scott nods, “Move now.”

Him and Stiles sling both of Fallon’s arms over their shoulders as they walk out into the hallway. They look down both ways, checking to see that the pathway is empty. “This way…” Scott starts pulling them.

Fallon’s body moves with Scott until she’s jerked back by Stiles. She grunts, sending the boy a small glare. He mumbles out an apology before explaining his abrupt motion, “No, no, no, no… Somewhere without windows.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “Every single classroom in this building has windows,” she points out.

Stiles rolls his neck, tired of her arguing with him, “Or somewhere with less windows,” he corrects.

They all pause in thought, trying to think of somewhere in the school. Fallon takes another glance down the hall, taking another deep breath when there’s no sign of the Alpha. Scott’s eyes light up with an idea, “The locker room.”

Stiles nods rapidly, getting ready to move Fallon again. “Yeah.”

She winces, looking between the two, “Is it gonna smell in there? Because if it is, we should go to the girls.”

“Seriously?” Stiles looks at her as they run down the hallway. “Were being chased by Scott’s psycho, murderer boss and you’re worried about the locker room stinking?”

Fallon rolls her eyes, fighting off the urge to kick him because he’s right. “Just keep running.”

They manage to run down the hallway without making much noise to their surprise. Well, not much noise in their opinion. Some shoes were scuffled as well as a certain cuss word leaving Stiles’ mouth as he managed to almost drop Fallon on the way there.

Once they walk in, they set Fallon down on the bench and she looks around with an impressed nod. “Not bad,” she comments. “I only smell a faint stench of sweaty socks.”

The boys ignore her. Scott turns to Stiles, panting from running. “Call your dad,” he instructs.

Stiles scoffs, “And tell him what?”

“I don’t know!” Scott says urgently. “Anything! Gas leak. A fire. Whatever! If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars, it’ll take off.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Stiles challenges, considering the opposite scenario. “What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad?”

“They have guns!” Scott exclaims.

Fallon leans forward, sending Scott a pointed look, “Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with some rare form of Wolfsbane to even be slightly slowed down, remember that? What do you think the Sheriff department’s peewee guns are gonna be able to do?”

Scott starts to get frantic, clawing for any escape plan from his brain. “Then we-we have to-we have to find a way out and just run for it.”

“There’s nothing near the school for at least a mile,” Stiles points out. “And we can’t keep lugging Fallon around everywhere. No offense,” he nods at her.

“None taken.”

“When does that thing get taken off anyway?” He questions, getting tired of the big bulky cast.

“I’m hoping by the end of next week,” she says, just as irritated with it as he is. “My dad said my X-rays looked good at my appointment yesterday so, fingers crossed.” She gets up from her spot, tired of being the one sitting. “Why don’t we just wait for the Alpha to come into the school?” She suggests. “Then we can just book it back to the other classroom and sneak out of the broken window.”

“Are you dumb?” Stiles narrows his eyes at her. “He already knows we were in there. Why would we go back? Haven’t you watched any sort of horror movie?”

“Yeah,” Fallon scoffs. “And everyone always dies after trying to find some elaborate way to escape. We have an easy opening in that classroom, we should take it.”

“Guys!” Scott interrupts them. “Why don’t we just take Derek’s car?”

“How the hell are we gonna get out to the car genius?” Fallon quirks a brow.

“That could work…” Stiles brushes over her comment. “We go outside, we get the keys… off his body… and then we take his car.”

“And him,” Fallon adds. “I’m not exactly down to just leave his body here.”

Stiles rolls his eyes like that’s a big ask, “Fine. Whatever.”

They all walk towards the door, Fallon more so hobbling. Stiles reaches forward to grab the door handle, but just as he’s about to open it, Scott reaches forward and stops him. His hand wraps around Stiles’ wrist. Fallon and Stiles look at him wildly, wondering what caused the sudden action.

“What?” Stiles lifts his eyebrows.

“I think I heard something,” Scott whispers.

“Wait, what?” Fallon whips her head to him in concern.

Scott slaps a hand over her mouth, “Shh, quiet.” He must hear something else as he slowly starts backing away from the door. He keeps Fallon behind him, turning Stiles’s flashlight around so it doesn’t give away their location. “Hide.”

Stiles acts fast, loudly opening one of the locker doors next to him and shoving himself inside. Scott winces at how much noise it made, but nonetheless grabs Fallon and brings her over to the lockers across from where Stiles is. He shoves her in one, shutting it gently before enclosing himself in the one next to her. The brunette girl covers her own mouth with her arm, trying to minimize the amount of sound her breathing makes as she hears footsteps approaching the locker room door.

The door opens slowly, the creaking sound it makes only increasing the tension that was already there. Fallon pushes herself as far back into the locker as she can, not wanting the Alpha to see her through the small slits in the locker.

Suddenly, the door to Scott’s locker swings open making Fallon’s fight or flight kick in. Despite her leg, she jumps out of her own locker, tackling whoever it is to the ground. “Go, run!” She shouts until she registers who exactly she just body slammed. It's the janitor. Her eyes widen as guilt and embarrassment flood her system. She pulls herself off the man, struggling to get to her feet, “I am so sorry, I–”

“Son of a bitch!” The man yells, rubbing the back of his head where he hit the ground.

“Quiet!” Stiles snaps, not wanting their location to be revealed.

“Quiet my ass!” The man scoffs. “What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?”

“Sir, I really am so sorry–” Fallon tries to get out.

“All three of you, get out! Now!” He points towards the door, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

“Will you just listen for half a second, okay–” Stiles starts in an attempt to calm the man down.

“Not okay,” the Janitor cuts him off, not interested in any excuse or story they have to offer. “Get the hell out of here right now.” The man grabs Scott and Stiles by their necks, glaring at Fallon harshly to get her to follow. She hops on her good leg, using the wall for support as they are all three tossed out of the locker room.

Stiles tries again, catching his balance before falling, “God, just one second to explain–”

“Just shut up and go!”

A loud scream leaves the janitor’s mouth as the door is slammed shut. The three of them watch in horror as he’s pinned against the wall, blood spurting out of him and onto the glass window of the door. The janitor pounds on the window, begging for them to save him from the monster attacking him. Scott moves to open the door, Fallon following closely behind until Stiles yanks them backwards.

“No, no, no,” he pushes them in the opposite direction. “Go! Go!” He scoffs over at Fallon who’s about to jump on Scott’s back, “What were you gonna do? Kick him to death with your cast?”

“You know what sounds like a fantastic idea? Me doing that to you.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon dismounts off of Scott’s back, practically tossing herself at the side doors to the school. She uses all of her body weight to get herself out, but bounces back slightly when the doors don’t give way like she was expecting. The boys grunt loudly as they try to push along with her, but nothing works.

There’s enough of a crack for Scott to push his head through. He sighs when he notices exactly what’s blocking them in, “It’s a dumpster.”

“You’re telling me that this killer werewolf took the time to lock us in here with a freaking dumpster?” Fallon stares at the door with a slack jaw.

Stiles stares ahead, baffled. “Yeah. He pushed it in front of the door to block us in,” he scoffs unbelievably. A surge of anger courses through the boy as he charges towards the door, once again trying to move the blockade, “Come on! Help me!”

Fallon grabs his arm, “Stiles!” She calls out. “It’s no use. We gotta find another way,” she mumbles.

He reluctantly allows her to pull him away from the doors as they start walking back down the hallway in search for another escape route. Stiles shakes his head rapidly, “I’m not dying here. I’m not dying at school,” he says anxiously.

“We’re not gonna die,” Scott reassures as they round a corner.

“What is he even doing?” Fallon asks out loud, trying to figure it out herself as well. “What does he want?” He didn’t attack her at the video store. He hasn’t tried to kill any of them. He hasn’t even really been violent with Scott. Just chasing him. Like a game of cat and mouse.

“Me.” Scott sighs frustratedly. “Derek says it’s stronger with a pack.”

“Oh great!” Stiles comments sarcastically. “A psychotic werewolf who’s into teamwork. That’s-that’s beautiful.”

Scott slaps a hand across both Fallon and Stiles’ chest. They both look at him, confused as to why he just soccer-mom’d the both of them. However, his eyes are stuck out the large window they are now standing in front of. Stiles and Fallon follow his line of vision, both of them turning a pale white as they see the Alpha on the roof across from them.

“Holy fu–” Fallon goes to scream, but is cut off by Scott swooping her up bridal style.

They bolt in the other direction, hearing the smashing of glass as the Alpha begins chasing after them. She grips onto Scott’s neck tightly as they open the door that leads to the staircase. Little grunts leave Scott’s mouth as he tries not to drop her while also maintaining his pace. She silently hopes he doesn’t drop her. She doesn’t want another cast for at least the next four years.

“Over there!” She whisper yells, pointing towards a random hallway. “There‘a a bunch of old beaten up lockers around that corner. We can hide behind those.”

The boys do as they’re told, rounding the corner and speeding towards the lockers she was talking about. They stop, pressing their backs against the cool metal which heavily contrasts their sweating bodies. Each of them holds their breath as to not give away their location. Fallon can hear the low snarling coming from the Alpha who’s only a mere few feet away. Scott barely looks around the corner, letting out a relieved sigh as the creature goes the other way.

“Go,” Scott mouths quietly.

“What?” Stiles tilts his head.

Fallon pushes him forward, “He said go,” she mumbles.

The three of them run forward for a moment, finding an area they deem far enough from where they just spotted the Alpha. They all stare at the entrance, anxiously waiting to see if they’ve been followed.

“Okay, we need to do something,” Fallon insists, backing towards another wall to ease some pressure off of her leg.

“Like what?” Scott asks exasperatedly.

“I don’t know!” She scoffs. “Kill it, maybe?! I am not above seriously debilitating that thing. Hell, we could sit here and mentally assault it for all I care!”

Stiles and Scott inch towards the door on the other side of the room. Fallon stays pushed against the wall, feeling slightly guilty that they’ve had to carry her around the entire night. She freezes in her spot as a distant growling fills her ears. The pipes in the school squeak eerily the longer they sit in silence.

Stiles reaches in his pockets, pulling out a pair of keys that begin to make a rather loud jangling noise. Fallon wishes she could smack him, but Scott seems to have that covered. “Wait a minute, no–”

“Shh,” Stiles hushes him. He finishes pulling them out, shaking them while doing so to create more noise. The growling grows closer and Fallon gets prepared to book it on her own. Out of nowhere, Stiles tosses the keys out of the door into the spare room. The room shakes violently as the Alpha comes barreling towards their location. Stiles slams the door in the things face before jolting backwards.

“What did you just do?!” Fallon screams.

“The desk!” Stiles yells at Scott to help him. “Come on, the desk!”

Scott surges forward, helping Stiles move the large table. They manage to scoot it in front of the door, locking the Alpha out, and also trapping him in the other room. They used the same “dumpster” tactic he used. Fallon exhales, putting her hands on her knees to calm herself down.

She jumps over to Stiles wrapping her arms around him, “God, I love that stupid brain of yours,” she says, relieved.

That relief only lasts a few seconds as the door jolts forward roughly. They all jump at the sound of metal clanging as the Alpha continues to try and break through. The desk separates Stiles and Fallon from Scott as it’s pushed against the door long ways. Stiles gestures for Scott to come to their side, “Come on, get across… Come on!”

Scott jumps over the metal table, standing with his friends on the other side as they look through the small window to where they’ve trapped the Alpha. Stiles cranes his neck in different directions to try and spot it.

“What are you doing?” Scott asks him incredulously.

“I just wanna get a good look at it…” Stiles trails off, practically pressing his face to the glass.

Fallon looks at him flabbergasted, “Are you crazy?! The last thing we should do is antagonize him.”

“Look, it’s trapped, okay? It’s not gonna get out,” he reassures them. The Alpha snarls once more, making Stiles jump on the desk to look at it dead on. He shines his light directly at the werewolf, “Yeah, that’s right, we got you…”

Fallon slaps his back, “What did I just say?” She seethes. “Don’t antagonize it! You’re just gonna piss it off even more than it already is.”

Stiles squares his shoulders, “I’m not scared of this thing–”

He’s swiftly cut off by the Alpha slamming its paw right in Stiles’ face where he was looking. The boy falls off the desk and into Scott’s arms with bated breaths. He scoffs slightly, trying to straighten his posture, “I’m not scared of you,” he calls out, his voice trembling slightly. “Right, ‘cause you’re in there, and we’re out here. And you’re not going anywh–”

A loud crash is all they hear as parts of the ceiling come crashing down from where the Alpha was previously trapped. The three of them slowly look up, hearing the heavy footsteps of the creature who is now crawling over them, inside of the roof. Stiles flashes his light up to the ceiling tiles which are bending under the weight of the werewolf.

Fallon pats Scott’s chest as they start backing away, “Run. Go. Now. Please,” she says in her broken up language. Scott nods his head, the trio taking off around the corner in search of another room to lock themselves in.

They run through random areas of the school that even Fallon didn’t know actually existed. She holds onto Scott’s shoulder as she hops alongside the two of them. Their pace is quick, but not too quick to where they’ll knock her over. She’s not sure how long they’ve been running around for, but it’s been long enough that she definitely needs her pain medication. Unfortunately, she left that in her backpack, which is at Stiles’ house. He insisted she leave her stuff there, saying they’d be back in no time. Look how that turned out.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Scott asks them, abruptly halting his movements. His brows are furrowed as he listens to something that Stiles and Fallon can obviously not hear.

“Not all of us have supernatural hearing, Scott,” Fallon reminds him. “So no, we don’t hear it.”

Scott shakes his head, “It sounds like a phone ringing…” Both of his friends look at him confused. They should be the only one’s in the school, and it’s none of their phones that are going off. Suddenly an alarmed look crossed his face, “I know that ring– it’s Allison’s phone.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Fallon asks him, worry filling her gut at the thought of Allison being stuck in the school with a psycho killer roaming around.

“Yes!” He exclaims, panic lacing his voice. “I-I need to find her. Do either of you have your phone?” He sticks his hand out, his anxieties skyrocketing. He needs to make sure she’s safe.

Fallon nods, grabbing her phone from her pocket and opening it. She pulls up Allison’s contact, pressing the call button before handing it straight to Scott.

She can see his shoulders visibly relax just the tiniest bit as he hears Allison’s voice. She sounds fine. He puts her on speaker so that Fallon and Stiles know what’s going on. “Fallon?” Allison asks, confused.

“No, it’s me,” Scott tells her as he and his two friends move with a new sense of urgency, trying to find Allison before something bad happens. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the school looking for you,” she reveals. “Why weren’t you at my place?” She queries, a bit of hurt in her voice.

“Where are you right now?” He questions her, needing a precise location.

Fallon can hear how lost Allison is, “On the first floor…”

Scott huffs loudly, clenching his fists at how vague her answers still are. “Where? Like where are you exactly?”

“The swimming pools.”

“Get to the lobby,” he instructs strictly, not giving her a chance to ask questions or protest. “Go. Now.”

“Okay. Okay,” she replies. “I’m coming.”

The three of them rush out towards the lobby, hoping to still find the girl in one piece. Fallon uses Stiles for support as they pick up the pace. Scott pushes through the lobby door, a sense of comfort filling him as he sees his girlfriend running towards him.

“Why did you come? Why-what are you doing here?” He rushes out, quickly oncing over her body to make sure she’s not hurt.

Allison furrows her eyebrows, “…Because you asked me to.”

Scott looks just as confused as she does, “I asked you to?”

Allison pulls out her phone, going to the texting thread between her and Scott. Delivered straight from him is a message that says, “Meet me at the school. URGENT.”

Fallon and Stiles share a disturbed look. Does that mean the Alpha has Scott’s phone? Allison picks up on the sudden fear filled tension the trio is sharing. She lowers her phone, “Why do I get the feeling that you didn’t send this message?”

A grim expression takes over Scott’s face, “Because I didn’t.”

Fallon hobbles forward, moving to stand next to Allison. “Did you drive yourself here?” She asks her friend worriedly.

Allison shakes her head, “Jackson did.”

“Jackson’s here, too?!” Scott exclaims, not wanting to have more people be exposed to the dangers of the supernatural.

“And Lydia,” Allison adds quickly. A frown etches its way into her face. All she wants is answers as to why they’re all three acting so odd. “What’s going on? Who sent this text?” Before anyone can think of a lie to answer her questions, her phone starts to ring. She sighs, pressing the device to her ear, “Where are you?”

Simultaneously as Allison asks that, Lydia and Jackson burst in through another door. The strawberry bl made throws her hands up, hanging up the phone she used to just call Allison. “Finally!” She huffs. “Can we go now?”

Allison looks to Scott for confirmation, but the only thing she’s answered with is a heavy thud from above. Stiles, Scott, and Fallon all look at each other, knowing exactly what’s causing the noise. The other three look confused but they definitely weren’t getting an explanation anytime soon. The creaking grows louder and that’s when they know they don’t have much time to get out of there.

Scott grabs Allison’s hand, “Run!” He shouts.

Stiles grabs Fallon, the two of them taking up the back of the group as they dart up the stairs. The heavy panting from the Alpha echoes close behind, thankfully no one dares to turn around, too afraid of being slowed down. They run straight across a long hallway before bursting into another empty classroom. Stiles and Fallon stop, the girl wincing as she plops down in the teachers chair. There’s no way she’s getting this cast off by the end of next week.

When she glances up, she notices the large wall of windows ahead of her. Stiles gapes at the same thing, both of them having the same thought. They would be sitting ducks if they stayed here. The sound of bolts clicking and the door locking causes them to turn around. Jackson and Scott are hurriedly locking and trying to block them in with desks and different arrays of items.

“Help me get this in front of the door.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, Scott. Wait, we can’t stay–”

“What was that?” Allison talks over the brunette anxiously. She tries to get her boyfriend to answer her, “Scott, what was that?”

“What came out of the ceiling?” Lydia piles onto her friend’s questions, shuffling in her feet nervously.

Jackson and Scott ignore the two girls, piling more and more things in front of the door. Fallon puts her head in her hands, not being able to watch the train wreck unfold. They’ve basically just locked themselves in their own coffin. The Alpha can easily get to any of them.

Her leg is throbbing along with her head. She’s wishing more than anything that she had taken her pain pills before coming here. Not that she’ll need them for very much longer. At this rate she’ll end up dead and not have to worry about broken bones.

“Will you just help me?” Scott calls out to the girls. “The chairs– stack the chairs,” he instructs in a panic.

Allison and Lydia do as they’re told, stacking and moving the chairs where everything else is. Stiles starts to get irritated that no one is listening to him and Fallon, “Guys– can we just wait a second?” Everyone continues moving in a frenzy, not paying any mind to the only two people not assisting. “You guys, listen to me, w–” He frustratedly runs a hand through his buzzed off hair. Fallon feels her own anger bubbling at them just being blatantly ignored. “Can we just wait one second? Guys? Stiles talking,” he comments sarcastically. “Can we hang on one second, please?”

“HEY!” Fallon screams, sick of being talked over. “Would you all just shut up for like ten seconds and listen? Holy crap,” she breathes out, standing up from her seat. All eyes turn to her. They all look spooked, never having heard the brunette raise her voice like that, especially not at them. She limps over to Stiles, her frustration preventing her from sitting still.

“Thank you…” he mutters to her. When his gaze meets everyone else’s he begins to clap sarcastically, “Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone,” he points to their mountain of furniture mockingly. “Now... What should we do about the twenty-foot wall of windows?” He turns his back to them, presenting the large window pane like it’s an expensive car at a dealership and he’s the salesman.

They all just stare at him awkwardly. No one thought of that, and it shows. Instead of coming up with a solution, the only thing that can be heard is the hysterical breathing of Allison. “Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why.” No one answers her so she walks over to her boyfriend, looking at him expectantly, “Scott…?”

Scott looks lost. He doesn’t know what to tell her without completely exposing the truth. Fallon shakes her head, telling him to make up a creative lie. They can’t risk dragging other people into this mess. The werewolf storms away from Allison who keeps looking at him for answers. He braces his arms on a desk a few feet away, his mind running a marathon. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Somebody killed the janitor,” Stiles blurts out.

Fallon spins her head to him so fast. Her eyes look as though they are about to pop out of her head. Everyone is already freaked out enough and he just went and told them that there’s a dead body in the school. He notices the way Fallon’s eye twitches and takes a small step away from her. She fights off the urge to strangle him as Lydia screams from her spot.

“What?!”

“Yeah, the janitor’s dead,” Stiles continues. His heart is in the right place trying to help Scott, but this is the wrong way to go about it.

Allison shakes her head, like denying it will make it go away. “What’s he talking about? Is this a joke?”

“What? Who killed him?” Jackson asks.

Lydia exhales, her whole body trembling, “No, no, no, no… This was supposed to be over… The mountain lion killed–”

“No, don’t you get it?” Jackson snaps, cutting her off. “There wasn’t a mountain lion.”

“Who was it?!” Allison demands. “What does he want? What’s happening?” She asks in a whisper. Scott stays quiet, his mind reeling with possible explanations and people he could blame. “Scott?!” She screams at him.

The boy turns around, stammering, “I-I don't know. I-I just– If-if we go out there, he's gonna kill us.”

“Us?” Lydia’s voice goes up an octave out of anxiety. “He’s gonna kill us?”

“Who?” Allison reiterates. “Who is it?”

Her doe eyes land on Stiles and Fallon who she thinks should also have the answers. Fallon glares at Stiles for bringing up the dead body in the first place. “Fallon?” Allison whispers.

The brunette sighs, rubbing her hand over her face frustratedly. “We don’t know–” She tried to answer in a half-truth but is cut off by Scott.

“It’s Derek,” he lies. “It’s Derek Hale.” Fallon’s face falls as she hears the false accusation. She narrows her eyes at him, disgust being the only readable emotion on her. The poor man might be dead and Scott’s trying to pin another murder on him? One they know for sure he did not commit.

“Derek killed the janitor?” Jackson furrows his eyebrows skeptically.

Allison’s mouth opens and closes, “A-Are you sure?”

“I saw him,” Scott insists, voice raising out of both irritation and desperation.

Lydia shakes her head, “The mountain lion–”

“No!” Scott yells. “Derek killed them.”

“All of them?” Allison asks fearfully.

“Yeah. Starting with his own sister.” This lie is what does it for Fallon. She grips tightly onto the desk next to her so she doesn’t lunge forward and kill Scott. It makes her sick to her stomach how he can say something like that.

“The bus driver?”

“And the guy in the video store.” Scott confirms. “It's been Derek the whole time. He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us, too.”

Fallon could only stare at Scott in disbelief. She thought he’d come up with a creative lie, not pin three murders on someone who has already been released as a person of interest. She glances at Stiles who looks just as baffled as she does. They both clearly think it’s a terrible and immoral idea to throw Derek under the bus for this, but Stiles won’t argue against it like she will.

“Call the cops,” Jackson orders.

“No,” Stiles replies.

Jackson looks at Stiles angrily, “Wh-what do you mean, ‘no?’” He asks incredulously.

“I mean, no,” Stiles glares at the jock. “You wanna hear it in Spanish? ‘Noh.’” He puts on his best Spanish accent to accentuate his sarcasm. “Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with,” he says, playing into Scott’s lie.

“Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff’s department,” Jackson argues loudly. “Call him!”

Lydia pulls out her phone, not even bothering to ask Stiles. She takes a step forward, “I’m calling.”

“No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec–” Stiles tries to follow after her, not wanting to put his father or other lives in danger. Jackson pushes Stiles backwards making Fallon jump forward despite her leg.

“Hey–” she smacks Jackson’s arm away from Stiles’ body. “Touch him and I break it,” she threatens.

“Yes, we’re at Beacon Hills High School,” Lydia tells the operator. “We’re trapped, and we need you to–” she’s stopped by the person speaking to her. Her perfectly manicured brows raise in shock, “But–” she tries to protest, but it’s no use. A distressed and shocked look overtakes her face as she removes her phone from her ear, “She hung up on me…”

“The police hung up on you?” Allison asks bewildered.

“She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested,” she explains, tears forming at her waterline.

“Okay, then call again,” Allison instructs.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, they won't trace a cell, and they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here.”

Allison stutters, bringing her hands up to her temples to rub her head frustratedly, “What the– what- what is this?” She laughs humorlessly. “Why does Derek wanna kill us? Why does he want to kill anyone?” She asks, making everyone's head turn to Scott who still looks like he’s trying to get his story straight.

“He doesn’t…” Fallon mumbles lowly enough that only Stiles can hear. He sends her a pointed look, one in which she returns.

“Why’s everyone looking at me?” Scott says defensively.

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia interrogates.

“No,” he shakes his head exasperatedly. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Is he the one that called the police?”

“I don’t know!” Scott finally snaps at Allison’s last question which makes her frown and look away, hurt by his harsh tone.

While Fallon does want to smack Scott upside the head for the web of lies he just created, she does feel bad that he’s receiving all the heat. He’s in the exact same position they are all in, and probably has some questions of his own about what’s going on. He doesn’t have the answers for everything. The rapid fire questioning is starting to get on her nerves, so she can’t imagine how he feels.

Scott realizes he took his anger out on the wrong person. He looks down at the floor, ashamed of how he talked to Allison. Stiles places his hand on Scott’s chest, “All right, why don’t we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?” He pulls Scott off to the side, dragging Fallon behind him. “Okay, first off– throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.”

Fallon scoffs with a venomous smile, “Yeah, great work,” she nods sarcastically. “Y’know for blaming a most likely dead dude for three murders, one in which he’s already been exonerated for. You’ve been relying on him to teach you how to control yourself, Scott. You both also have already gotten him arrested, so if he did survive that, I guarantee he’s not going to be so forgiving this time around,” she lectures.

“I didn’t know what to say!” Scott defends himself. “I had to say something, and like you said, if he’s dead, then it doesn’t matter, right?”

“I said most likely,” Fallon crosses her arms. “He’s still a werewolf who survived a bullet wound and being almost burned alive in his home.”

Scott’s hope for Derek being dead dwindles. He groans at his own temper, “Oh God, I totally just bit her head off.”

“And she’ll get over it,” Fallon rolls her eyes. “Love you both but the last thing any of us are worried about right now is your teeny weeny fight. If she stays mad, then let her. Got more important things to focus on here.”

“Agreed,” Stiles nods. “Biggest issue we got right now is how do we get out of here alive?” He asks.

“But we are alive,” Scott points out logically. “It could’ve killed us already. It’s like it’s cornering us or something.”

“So, what? He wants to eat us all at the same time?” Stiles questions mockingly.

Scott scoffs at the overdramatization, “No. Derek said it wants revenge,” he brings up.

“Against who?” Fallon ponders. “The Argents?” She suggests. The only people she remembers having any negative reputation with werewolves is them simply because they’re hunters.

“That's what I’m thinking,” Scott nods.

“Maybe that’s what the text was about,” Stiles snaps his fingers as he tries to connect the dots to each other. “Someone had to send it.”

“Okay, assheads! New plan–” Jackson interrupts their conversation causing the trio to look over at him. Fallon chooses to ignore the rude nickname seeing as everyone is on edge. “Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?” He gestures to the two girls with him.

“You don’t have to do that, Sti,” Fallon whispers to him, rubbing his back with her hand.

Stiles looks troubled as Scott sends him a look that says the opposite of what Fallon just said. “He’s right. Tell him the truth if you have to. Just… call him.”

Stiles shakes his head, leaning over to whisper, “I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.”

“Which is completely justified,” Fallon agrees, glaring at Scott. “Would you put your mom’s life at risk with the Alpha wandering around the halls?” She quips.

Jackson grows angry at the lack of action being taken. He lunges forward, reaching to forcefully remove the phone from Stiles’ hand. “All right, give me the phone!”

Fallon has tried this whole evening to keep her anger at bay. But her fear and frustrations are coming to a boil. So when she feels Jackson shove Scott and her to get to Stiles, her resolve finally snaps.

One moment, Jackson’s arms are outstretched to push her to the side, the next Jackson is groaning in pain and retreating back over to Lydia and Allison. “Damn,” Fallon grumbles, shaking her now swollen, bright red hand. Jackson’s face is sporting the shame shade of red right where her fist collided with his skin.

Stiles and Scott wish they could say they were shocked, but this has been a staple for Fallon since they met her. Stiles smirks proudly, recalling the time she defended them against Tony in the third grade. She’s never been a fan of bullies, even if she’s on good terms with them herself. Defending Scott and Stiles has always been her priority and that’s why she ignores the slight dirty looks from Allison and Lydia.

“Dad, hey, it's me,” he greets until he realizes his father didn’t actually answer. “And it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back now. Like, right now. We're at the school. Dad, we're at the school.”

Stiles hangs up the phone, ending the voicemail to his dad. Fallon massages her knuckle, shrugging over to Jackson who glares at her. That might put a bigger dent in their so-called “friendship.” Out of nowhere, the doors to the room start to shake. All of them jump with a yelp as the Alpha bangs on them trying to get through to the group of teens. Despite the high tensions, they all huddle together in attempts to protect themselves.

“The kitchen. The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell,” Stiles says, keeping his eye on the door that’s shaking.

“Which only goes up,” Scott reminds him.

“Up is better than here,” Fallon adds, slowly inching her way to the stairwell.

“Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?” Scott asks urgently, hoping that can be there escape plan rather than having to explain stealing Derek’s Camaro.

“Five, if someone squeezes on someone’s lap.”

Allison turns to him with a scoff, “Five?!” She exclaims. “I barely fit in the back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles reality checks the situation. “There’s no getting out of here without drawing attention.”

“What about this?” Scott starts, walking over to the door on the other side of the room. “This leads to the roof. We can do gown the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds.”

“That’s a deadbolt,” Stiles points out as he goes to examine the lock.

“The janitor has a key.”

“You mean his body has the key,” Fallon clarifies as she joins the two boys, further away from the rest of the group.

“I can get it,” Scott tells them. “I can find him by scent, by blood.”

“Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea,” Stiles criticizes quickly. “What else you got?” He crosses his arms, waiting for a better plan.

Scott looks to Fallon to see if she’ll back him up. To his misfortune, she has the same defiant look as Stiles. “Don’t look at me,” she shrugs. “I’d rather not have to explain to our parents why you got murdered going to fish some keys off of a dead body. I prefer you alive despite how stupid I think you are.”

The boy looks at her determinedly, “I’m getting the key,” he persists.

Fallon rolls her eyes at his superhero complex. She does appreciate his effort and need to save everyone, but sometimes it’s too dangerous. She really doesn’t want to see him get hurt, or kidnapped, or killed. There are many different ways this could go with the Alpha watching them.

“Are you serious?” Allison asks him aghast.

“Well, it’s the best plan,” Scott admits. “Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here,” he explains.

“You can’t go out there unarmed.”

Scott agrees, scanning the room to look for some kind of weapon. He reaches over, grabbing a long pointer stick the teacher who occupies the classroom probably uses for lectures. They all look at him warily. He shrugs, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“There’s gotta be something else…” Stiles frowns, Turing on his heel to find something more useful for his friend to defend himself.

Lydia searches as well, her eyes landing on the cabinet full of different chemicals behind her, “There is,” she smirks. Fallon follows her sightline, tilting her head as she picks up on what Lydia’s getting at.

Stiles throws his hands up when he notices what they’re looking at, “What are we gonna do? Throw acid on him?”

Fallon sighs, “No– it’s kinda like a fire bomb,” she tries to explain in terms Stiles would understand.

Lydia nods, “In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.”

Stiles squints his eyes, still dumbfounded by what they’re saying, “Self…igniting…”

“…Molotov cocktail,” the strawberry blonde finishes snidely. She notices the odd look from her boyfriend, “What? I read it somewhere,” she covers, still trying to act dumb.

“We don’t have a key for that either–” Stiles tries to point out, but is cut off by Fallon walking forward and shoving her jacket clad elbow through the glass. It shatters and she steps away, brushing off the small pieces that stuck to the cloth. “Nevermind…” Stiles mutters.

Fallon rummages through the cabinet, getting all of the chemicals and items needed while Lydia works on combining the right amount of ingredients. They all watch the two girls work, Jackson handing Lydia the materials Fallon puts down.

“Jackson,” Lydia calls out for the blonde who’s standing closest to her. “Hand me the sulfuric acid.”

He mindlessly grabs a bottle and hands it to her. The bored look on his face makes Fallon roll her eyes, but he quickly becomes intrigued when he hears Allison become hysterical as she speaks to Scott.

“No. No, this is insane,” she looks at him with tear filled eyes. “You can’t do this. You cannot go out there.”

Scott sighs, trying to find the best way to comfort her, “We can’t just sit here waiting for Stiles’ dad to check his messages,” he argues softly.

Allison leans over the desk, “You could die,” her speech starts to become more frantic. “Don't you get that? He’s killed three people.”

“And we’re next. Somebody had to do something,” Scott says persuasively. Fallon understands that Allison is just worried, but if they just sit here and do nothing, they’ll have way less of a chance at surviving.

He goes to walk towards the door to leave the classroom, but Allison gets in his way, “Scott, just stop,” she begs him. “Do you remember-do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell? Well, so do you. You're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night. Just-just please, please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please.”

Fallon has never felt more awkward in her life. She knows how serious this is, but the over emotional-ness of the conversation is making her extremely uncomfortable. She rubs the back of her neck, looking anywhere but at the couple. However, there is one person who’s seemingly enjoying the little quarrel. Jackson. The brunette rolls her eyes, moving as far away from the blonde as possible.

Scott gives her a regretful look before trying for the door again, “Lock it behind me,” he breathes out. Allison doesn’t let him get far before pulling him back to her by his arm. She connects her lips to his, making everyone else glance in another direction. Fallon doesn’t understand their relationship. One minute she’s mad at him for leaving, and now this. It’s giving her whiplash and she’s not even involved.

Once the door shuts behind Scott, Fallon walks over to it and locks it. “Good luck, Scotty,” she whispers, hoping he hears her. Now it’s all about waiting. The brunette slides into a spot besides Lydia who is watching Jackson comfort Allison from afar. She nudges the strawberry blonde, “You okay?”

Lydia scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “No, obviously I’m not okay. We are all stuck in the school with some crazy killer out to get us and our only hope of getting out is if Scott manages to hit Derek with that cocktail.”

Fallon sighs, “I know. But I have faith in him. Scott’s resourceful. He won’t let us die here.”

Lydia doesn’t respond, a frown etching its way into her features as she watches Jackson hold Allison’s hand. Fallon glares in his direction. He has a girlfriend who needs him too, and yet he’s over there preying on Allison. “I never understood why you pretend to be dumb in front of him.”

Instead of pretending she’s clueless to what Fallon’s talking about, Lydia just shrugs, “The same reason you’ve never accepted the co-captain position,” she answers simply.

Fallon lifts an amused brow, chuckling slightly, “Touché.”

“Men’s egos are a fragile thing,” Lydia mutters almost disgustedly.

Fallon nods in agreement, “Especially ones like Jackson.”

Lydia hums quietly, wanting to say something but holding back for the sake of her relationship. She slowly ventures out from behind the desk and towards Jackson. Fallon doesn’t try to stop her because there is no convincing Lydia to break up with him. There never has been. She just hopes that the shorter girl realizes her worth and how much more she could do if she didn’t hold herself back for him. Or any guy for that matter.

“So the Incredible Hulk made a special appearance tonight, huh?” Stiles’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

Fallon looks down at her feet to hide her smirk, “I didn’t mean to…” she mumbles. “I just saw Jackson coming at you and it kinda just… came out, I guess.” She admits.

“Well, not that you need me to tell you, but I thought it was super badass,” he nudges her shoulder with his own smile. His small grin fades when he notices her messing with her fingers. A habit she has when she’s nervous. “We’re gonna be okay, Fall,” he whispers, lacing his fingers with hers.

A sense of warmth fills her chest. She squeezes his hand, mindlessly rubbing her thumb on the back of it. “I know…” she says unsurely. Stiles shoots her a pointed look. “Or at least I hope so,” she gives in to her insecurities about the situation.

“We’ll get out of here,” he reassures her, kissing the side of her head. She sighs, nodding her head before leaning onto his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist to hold her close. As much as he wants to say he’s comforting her, having her next to him like this is doing more for his anxieties than hers. “And then by the end of next week, you’ll have this stupid thing off,” he pats her cast, “then this will all feel like some stupid, distant memory.”

“I don’t know about distant,” she jokes quietly. “But definitely something we can trauma bond over.”

“Dead bodies and Alpha werewolves,” he nods, his lips in a thin line. “Nice.”

“Jackson, you handed me the sulfuric acid, right?” Lydia’s voice pulls their attention over to where she, Jackson, and Allison are standing. “It has to be sulfuric acid– it won't ignite if it's not.”

“I gave you exactly what you asked for tonight,” Jackson snaps tensely, glaring at Lydia for no reason.

Lydia looks taken aback, almost flinching at the sound of his voice. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

Silence falls over the room, no one really knowing what to say to one another. The tension is high as they wait for any sign of Scott or safety. A few minutes later, a loud growl comes from somewhere within the school. Everything in the building felt like it was shaking. Fallon covers her ears, the loud noise becoming too much to handle. Everyone else has the same reaction, cowering away from whatever it could be… except for Jackson. He falls to his knees, clutching the back of his neck.

Lydia and Allison rush to his side and try to help him up, but all Fallon and Stiles could focus on is the marks on the back of his neck. Marks that look vaguely similar to werewolf claws. Fallon’s eyebrows furrow. It couldn’t have been from the video store. The Alpha didn’t even touch him then.

“No, I’m fine,” Jackson brushes the girls off. “Like, seriously– I’m okay.”

“That didn’t sound okay at all,” Allison argues.

Stiles goes to reach for the claw marks, “What’s on the back of your neck?”

“I said I’m fine!” Jackson slaps Stiles’ hand away with a withering glare.

Fallon grabs Stiles, pulling him back. They both know exactly what’s on his neck. Lydia glances at the two friends, “It’s been there for days,” she explains. “He won’t tell me what happened.”

The blonde scoffs harshly, “As if you actually care,” he says snidely.

“Woah,” Fallon puts her hands up. “She wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t care, asshat. So why don’t you try responding respectfully this time before I punch you so hard that I actually break something?” She takes a menacing step towards Jackson but is yanked backwards by Stiles.

“Calm down,” Stiles scolds her. “Can we not argue for like half a second here?” He begs everyone.

Allison glances to the door worriedly, “Where’s Scott? He should be back by now.”

Suddenly there was a small click at the door. Almost like the sound of it being unlocked from the outside. Allison’s eyes widen as she shoots towards the door, “Scott! Scott!” She screams. She frantically tries to turn the door knob, but it doesn’t budge. He must be holding the handle still from the outside. She continues yelling for him, desperate to make sure he’s okay.

“Stop! Stop!” Lydia yells, catching Allison’s attention. She stops screaming and wriggling the door handle. “Do you hear that? Listen.” Everyone stays silent and that’s when they hear the heavenly sounds of police sirens. Noah got Stiles’ message.

They all walk towards the window, sighing in relief as they see police cars pulling up to the school one by one. Fallon leans into Stiles’ side once she realizes that what he said was true. They are all going to be okay. Stiles smiles softly, leaning his head on top of hers, happy to accept the affection.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sits on the edge of an ambulance, the EMT’s doing a bit extra than what they did for the others due to her broken leg. Stiles sits next to her, not wanting her to be alone while Scott stands at her other side. Doesn’t leave much room for the paramedics to do their job, but she doesn’t want them to leave her side.

“You sure it was Derek Hale?” Noah Stilinski asks skeptically to the three teens.

“Yes,” Scott answers confidently.

“I saw him too,” Stiles adds.

Noah narrows his eyes, still not totally convinced. He glances at the brunette, “Fallon?”

The girl wasn’t sure what to say. Derek wasn’t guilty of anything they were accusing him of. She couldn’t just throw him under the bus… again. But she also can’t go against Scott and Stiles. She groans, hiding her face in Scott’s arm, “I need a nap,” she replies. Hopefully this response is neutral enough to not warrant any more questions.

The sheriff doesn’t push for any more information, assuming the brunette is just exhausted and frightened after the long night they’ve had.

“What about the janitor?” Scott questions, wanting to know if they found the man’s body.

Sheriff Stilisnki nods apprehensively, “We’re still looking.”

“Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?” The werewolf continues to push for a more solid answer, emphasizing every word.

Noah sighs, “Yeah, Scott, we looked. We pulled them out just like you asked. There’s nothing.”

Fallon closes her eyes as she leans against Stiles. So not only is the Alpha a killer, but he also knows how to cover up his crimes… comforting.

“I’m not making this up,” Scott says defensively, knowing that no one here besides the people next to him believe him.

“I know. I believe you, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Scott says sadly. “You have this look like you feel bad for me. Like you want to believe me, but I know you don’t.”

“Listen– we’re gonna search this whole school. We’re gonna find him, okay?” He places a hand on Scott’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise.”

Fallon isn’t exactly sure how far this promise is going to go. With how many unexplainable things that happened tonight, they’ll be lucky to even find a logical explanation for the werewolf sized holes in the ceiling.

A deputy calls out for Noah, making him sigh. He’s reluctant to leave the three teens to their own devices. He gives them all a strict look, “Stay. All three of you.”

He walks away, leaving the trio to their own devices. Fallon’s blinking becomes much slower, sleep threatening to take over her body. Stiles puffs out a breath of air, “Well, we survived, guys. You know? We outlasted the Alpha.” Scott looks a bit unsure which makes Stiles furrow his eyebrows. “It’s still good, right? Being alive?”

Scott sends them a serious look, “When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us. You don’t think that it heard us?” He points out the reality of their situation. “You don’t think it knew exactly where we were?”

“Then why wouldn’t it come after us?” Fallon frowns. “Why would it waste an opportunity to kill? It hasn’t before.”

“It wants me in its pack. But, I think, first… I have to get rid of my old pack.”

Stiles tilts his head, “What do you mean? What old pack?” He asks, confused.

Scott’s face shows nothing but regret and Fallon knows why. She sits up, taking her head off of Stiles’ shoulder. “Us,” she answers. “He means us.”

Stiles looks at Scott, shock covering his face. Their werewolf friend nods morosely. “The Alpha doesn’t want to kill us…” Stiles realizes.

“It wants me to do it,” Scott huffs loudly. “And that’s not even the worst part.”

Stiles’ jaw hits the floor. He groans exhaustedly, “How the holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?”

“Because when he made me shift… I wanted to do it,” he admits shamefully. “I wanted to kill you. All of you.”

“Y’know, I appreciate the honesty,” Fallon begins. “But I would feel a whole lot better if you kept your murderous thoughts to yourself for the next forty-eight hours,” she squeezes her eyes shut. “Or at least until my headache goes away.”

“Fallon!”

The girl groans and forces her eyes open. Her father is barreling towards her, worry and anger the primary emotions he’s expressing. “Hey dad,” she greets groggily.

“I thought you said you were sleeping over at the Stilinski’s,” he bends down in front of her, checking her more thoroughly than the EMT’s did.

Scott and Stiles hold back their laughter at Michael’s overprotectiveness. Fallon rolls her eyes, “I was,” she defends herself. “But I accidentally left my phone in Mr. Harris’s class after detention and I didn’t realize until we got to his house,” she nods over to Stiles. “So I asked him to take me back and that’s when everything went downhill.”

Her lie is effortless, and it works very well with their situation. She has her phone on her now so it just looks like they found it and we’re on their way out when they got cornered. Scott walked off after seeing Allison, but Stiles just watches in awe. He would’ve believed every word that came out of her mouth if he didn’t live the experience with her.

Michael sighs, seemingly believing the fabrication. He leans forward to kiss her forehead, “All right, kiddo. I think it’s time to get you home.” She nods, letting Stiles and her father help her up. The surgeon nods, silently thanking the paramedics for their help. “You ready?” He asks her.

Fallon nods, “Yeah. I’m probably gonna sleep until I’m dead,” she says gruffly.

Michael cracks a small smile before patting Stiles’ back, “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“Of course Mr. Donovan,” he nods. “Couldn’t let anything bad happen to her, now could I? My life would be pretty boring.”

Michael smiles as his daughter hobbles over to his car, “You and me both, kid.”

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329

A look so quick

A movement so slight

Ah, it’s not passin’ fascination now It’s

obsession

TEEN WOLF | chris argent

We follow the code.

Chris Argent | Teen Wolf | Not my gif | Requested

Y/N: *whispers* What are you doing here?

Chris: *smiles* Scott invited me, said it would be a good thing if we all spent a normal day together.

Y/N: Maybe we should have a normal day together too. Just the both us. All alone. *slyly smirks*

Chris: *chuckles* We should. Let me know when Lydia stops being suspicious of your love life. *quickly kisses your head*

Y/N: *hums* That’ll be the day.

Requests are OPEN!

It was definitely way more than once.

Peter and Chris, is it true you had sex on a Pride float?

They totally switch

Chris and Peter, when having sex who tops/bottoms more, or do you flip?

Merry Christmas @geekmom13 from your Steter secret Santa for the @stetersecretsanta2023 challenge, I hope you enjoy the story and have a holiday.

Title: Jingle My Bells.

Fandom: Teen Wolf.

Trigger(s): Explicit sex.

Pairing(s): Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski/Chris Argent

Rating: Explicit.

Chapter: 1/1.

Summary: It's that magical time of year, joy and merriment are in the air, and for Stiles Stilinski-Hale he's going to find out what happens to good little twinks on Santa's nice list