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strangerstilinski · 11 months

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𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter one

summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 17,160

chapter notes; lydia takes an ill-advised field trip from the hospital. a newly alpha-ed up derek begins recruiting for his pack. stiles and amber try to get used to their recent upgrade to ‘more-than-friends’.

masterlist

c h a p t e r o n e

omega

"Do we really need to do this right now?" Amber asked impatiently, "I want to go-"

Stiles gave her a sharp look.

"If you'd rather I drop you off at your house so your brother can patch you up.." Stiles began slowly, "Y'know, then you can tell him all about rescuing Derek from werewolf hunters, and how an Alpha got you with one of his claws just a few hours before he was violently murdered.. Which you were also witness to," He was still looking up at her from his place on the floor between her knees, "And while you're explaining all that, Scott and I can go to the hospital to check on Lydia without you-"

"Okay, okay." She settled quickly, "Just, hurry up. Please."

She watched his determined focus return to the task at hand as he wrapped a band-aid tightly around the deep cut on her freshly cleaned middle finger.

"How did you even get this one?" He questioned as he finished applying the covering.

"Trying to get the latch undone on one of Derek's ankle cuffs," She explained, "My hand slipped and it just kind of-"

Stiles looked up at her with a frown, "You've had your tetanus shot, right?"

She snorted in amusement at his concern, "Yes, Stiles. I'm up to date on all my shots." She told him with a shake of her head, "Now, are we done? Can we go?"

As she pulled her hand out of his grip and moved to stand, she looked down at her outfit with a small frown and pinched the fabric of Stiles' borrowed sweatpants between her fingers.

To avoid being subjected to a full interrogation in regards to her dirty, bruised, and bloody condition following the events of the evening, when Jackson had dropped them off at her house, she'd slipped inside only to grab her car keys from the hook just inside the front door and Stiles and Amber had driven her vehicle back to the blessedly empty Stilinski house.

They'd both gotten cleaned up and Stiles had given her a pair of sweats and a tshirt to wear until they could sneak back into her house to get some of her own clothes. Only now, with the intention of going out into public, she found herself feeling self-conscious in the borrowed items.

"I look kind of ridiculous." She muttered quietly as she looked down at her baggy outfit.

Stiles had already stood and begun making his way to the bedroom door, but turned back at her with an exasperated shake of his head, "Hey, you were more than welcome to put your dress back on after your shower." Stiles reminded her.

She turned her head to look over at the dirt and blood covered heap of fabric in the corner of the room and frowned.

"Would you like to go back to your house?" He asked with a sigh after a moment.

"No," She said quickly, "Sorry. I'll stop complaining."

Stiles took a step back into the room and reached up to slide his hands underneath the hem of her borrowed tshirt. He rested them lightly over her bare hips, his fingers pressing into her skin as he dragged her a step closer.

"For the record, I don't think you look ridiculous." He said softly.

"No?" She licked her lips and took an anxious breath at the familiar yet completely unfamiliar warmth of his body so close to hers.

His thumbs rubbed featherlight up and down over her abdomen, and her stomach tightened at the gentleness of the touch. Stiles shook his head in response but didn't verbalize an answer as he looked down at her body. Her own gaze flicked over his face in a slow trail and when her eyes caught the way his lips parted distractedly as he breathed, she was spurred on.

"You-" She licked her lips again and took another nervous breath, "You like it? Me.. In your clothes?"

He nodded quickly and his eyes snapped up to meet hers while he continued to bob his head up and down.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised up onto her toes to bring their lips together. His hands tightened over her hips as he returned the kiss and she allowed him to press slow, deep kisses against her mouth for a long minute before she pulled away. She leaned forward to press their cheeks together as she lifted her mouth to rest over the shell of his ear.

"Just wait 'til you see me out of them." She whispered softly, hoping that the words came out sounding more confident than she felt. She took a step back just as Stiles let out a quiet noise of distress and she grinned triumphantly, "Alright. We better get going! Still have to pick up Scott and he's probably been waiting a while already."

"No-" He whined quietly, stumbling after her in a daze and grabbing ahold of her hand as she exited the room and started down the hallway, "Why would you do that to me? That wasn't nice-"

She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand as they made their way down the stairs toward the front door.

"If I wasn't being nice, I would've pointed out that your wardrobe is severely lacking in underwear in my size-" She told him innocently, "Also, bras."

"Believe me, I noticed the absence of a bra on your body." He muttered quietly as he grabbed her car keys from the bowl by the door, "The underwear, though.. I definitely could've done without that reminder, because now, quite frankly, there's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to think about anything else. So, thanks for that. Scott can smell arousal, y'know."

That gave her pause. She turned to face him as they stepped outside and gave him a disbelieving look.

"I'm sorry-? He can do what?" She questioned.

Stiles grinned, looking pleasantly surprised at her obliviousness as they walked to the tiny yellow car. He dropped her keys into her hand and watched her settle behind the wheel, his arm propped up on the driver's side door.

"Oh? Did you not know that?" He asked in poorly disguised glee.

Her grip on her car keys tightened as she looked up at him, trying to determine whether or not he was telling the truth, "You're seriously telling me he can- That he can smell it when I-"

Her mind raced as she thought about all of the times in the last month and a half she'd been sandwiched between her two best friends with her thoughts solely focused on Stiles. All of the moments she'd been glued to Scott's side while thinking about Stiles' hands, and kissing him, and touching him, and him touching her-

She squeaked in distress, "Has he been able to do this the whole time?"

Stiles shrugged, "I think he only really picked up on it around the last full moon," His eyes flicked over her excitedly, "Why? You been aroused a lot?"

"I mean.. Yeah." She told him plainly, eyes wide.

His arm slipped from the doorframe and he stumbled in surprise at her blatant honesty. He blinked at her for a moment with a slack jaw before shaking his head and moving to close the door.

He looked down into the car with a grimace of understanding, "Right, well, can't keep him waiting."

Amber pouted, still feeling nauseatingly embarrassed as she leaned forward to turn the key in the ignition and start her car with a pitiful sigh.

It was totally fine. Scott was her best friend. It was totally not weird that he could sense it whenever she was turned on. Not weird at all.

Definitely not.

Except it really, really was.

Amber stayed back to talk to Lydia's doctor while Scott and Stiles headed in the direction of her hospital room. Her stomach was in knots during the duration of the conversation, but she felt overall relief as she listened to the doctor explain that Lydia was going to be okay.

The woman assured her that Lydia's body had stabilized over the last several hours and that now it was simply a waiting game. The redhead would wake up whenever her body felt well enough.

With a shaky sigh as her stress alleviated slightly, Amber made her way over to the closed door of Lydia's hospital room. She pushed it open and Scott and Stiles both flinched from where they were standing beside Lydia's bed, turning to face the door in alarm.

"Oh, it's just you," Stiles breathed out in relief, motioning for her to come into the room faster, "Hurry up and close the door-"

She frowned but did as she was told, both boys wincing again as the door creaked shut loudly and prompting her to frown in apology before walking over to stand in between them.

"Why did I need to close the door?" She asked quietly.

"Because we need to check the bite-" Scott explained, "See how it's healing."

He reached out, beginning to pull the blankets down, but as his fingers brushed against the fabric of Lydia's hospital gown, Amber smacked his hand away and took a protective step closer to the unconscious girl in the bed. The boys both frowned at her in confusion and she glared between them darkly.

"If anyone is about to touch the unconscious girl without her permission and violate her nearly naked body, it is not going to be one of you." She berated quietly, smacking Scott's hand away again from where it was still resting on the bedside, "Thank you." She huffed.

She took a steadying breath and reached her own hand out, trembling fingers pulling the gown to the side just enough to reveal the large bandage covering the skin on Lydia's hip. She gently peeled back the covering to reveal the bloody wound beneath and looked at Scott worriedly.

"What does this mean?" She whispered anxiously.

"Is it completely healed?" Stiles questioned, his gaze still locked on the far wall after having averted his eyes when Amber lifted the fabric of Lydia's hospital gown.

"No." Scott told him, "Not at all."

Stiles finally turned his attention back to the girl in the hospital bed and he dropped a hand over Amber's shoulder as he leaned closer to peer down at the bloody bite in the flesh of Lydia's hip.

"I- I don't get it," Amber said quietly, her thumb dropping down to trace softly over the unmarred skin beside the wound, "The doctor said she'd be fine."

"But.. The bite's not healing like it did with me." Scott stated.

"Right.." She prompted, "So, what does that mean?"

"It means.. She's not a werewolf."

She looked back up at Scott nervously and Stiles' grip on her shoulder tightened comfortingly.

"Then what the hell is she?" Stiles asked in a whisper.

"Maybe.. Maybe werewolf or death aren't the only two options after being bitten, y'know?" Amber suggested quietly, "I mean, maybe some people are like.. Immune-?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Scott shrugged, still frowning in confusion, "I-I'm gonna go meet Allison before it gets too late." He told them before moving toward the door.

"You don't need a ride?" Stiles asked.

"I'm good." Scott assured, cracking the door open just enough to slip through before closing it behind himself.

Amber gently laid the bandage back down over the bite, re-securing it with delicate fingers before covering Lydia back up again and tucking the blanket in around her. She looked up at the redhead's beautiful sleeping face and swallowed guiltily.

"This-" She let out a shaky breath in realization, "Is all my fault."

"Hey, no, what?" Stiles protested softly, he spun her around to face him and frowned at her, "This isn't your fault," He told her firmly, "Why would you say that?"

Her lip quivered and she felt her eyes prickle with heat as they welled with tears, "Because it is," She said, "I told her to go find Jackson and I let her go alone. I- I should've gone with her and-" A small sob cut her off when she took her next breath, "And Scott had already told me he thought he'd seen Peter." She disclosed, eyes filling with more tears when she saw the look of surprise on Stiles' face, "He told me he saw Peter and I didn't believe him. I told him he was being paranoid and- And then I told Lydia to go off and look for Jackson and I-"

Another choked sob cut off her words and Stiles wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in as the first of her tears fell. He directed her to burrow her face into the curve of his neck and she went easily, reaching up to fist her hands into his shirt as she did so.

"None of this is your fault," He told her, mouth pressed into her still slightly shower-damp hair as he spoke softly into her ear, "You're wrong, okay? It's not your fault."

His arms tightened around her shoulders and the firmness of his grip settled just a little bit of the tightness in her chest.

Mrs. Martin had approved Amber as an overnight guest for her daughter and Amber spent the next forty-some hours at the hospital. Whenever Lydia's mother was away, Amber was glued to Lydia's bedside, alternating between holding her friend's hand while napping with her head pillowed on the edge of the mattress, and turning the television to the docuseries on the Discovery Channel that she knew her friend secretly loved.

Lydia finally woke on Saturday afternoon, confused and groggy, only a few hours after Amber's brother had visited to drop off a bag of things from their house to last her through the weekend.

By Sunday evening, Amber had taken up residence in an armchair on the far side of the hospital room, reading through a new crime-thriller as she kept her bed-bound friend company. Amber was still lounging in the comfort of Stiles' oversized sweats, grateful for the clean underwear bra that her brother had dropped off for her.

Lydia dozed off and on throughout the afternoon and while Mr. Martin had been hovering somewhat awkwardly at the doorway for several hours, Amber had remained in the room all day at Lydia's insistence. The brunette spent the evening reading through her crime novel and sticking tiny post-it notes inside, using different colored tabs in the pages as new clues and possible leads cropped up in the story.

She was two-thirds of the way through her book when Lydia finally stirred after several hours of fitful rest. The redhead sat up in her hospital bed slowly, immediately garnering the undivided attention of both her father and Amber.

"What?" Lydia snapped in annoyance at their sudden scrutiny.

"D'you need any help getting to the bathroom?" Amber asked gently.

"No." Lydia said quickly, "And I'm going to take a shower, if that's all right with the two of you."

Amber closed her book with a frown and watched Lydia's father take another nervous step toward his daughter as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and went to stand.

"You want help getting into the shower?" He asked.

"Maybe," Lydia started with a withering glare, "-If I was still four and taking bubble baths."

Amber snorted quietly despite herself, holding her hands up in surrender as she walked over to the door to the hallway, "I'll wait out in the hall."

"I'll be outside too," Mr. Martin assured his daughter, "Where it's slightly less sarcastic." He finished quietly as they stepped out of the room and left Lydia to her own devices.

When Amber stepped out into the hallway, she spotted Stiles sleeping sprawled across a row of the uncomfortable waiting chairs, and she found herself smiling softly at the sight of him.

"How long has he been here?" She asked quietly when she spotted Scott's mom in her scrubs at the nursing station just outside of the room.

"Since this afternoon," Ms. McCall revealed, "He said he brought you some lunch. I told him you'd already eaten but he just.. Didn't leave."

Amber's heart warmed and she watched Stiles murmur something quietly under his breath in his sleep, his mouth hanging open cutely where it was pillowed against the back of his arm. She approached with slow steps and squatted down in front of him, reaching out to cup his cheek softly.

"Stiles.." She spoke quietly in an attempt to wake him, rubbing her thumb lightly over the dark mole decorating his left cheek.

"Mm," Stiles hummed quietly, eyes still closed, "'S good."

Her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head in amusement as she watched at the sleeping boy in front of her. His body shifted slightly as he readjusted over the row of chairs and she swept her thumb over his cheek again softly.

"Stiles, c'mon." She spoke gently.

"Feels good," He murmured into the back of his arm as his eyebrows furrowed softly. His leg twitched, kicking out into the chair at the end of the row and he groaned quietly in the back of his throat, "Ngh, Amber.. Like that."

She blinked and her thumb paused its movements as the dots connected in her mind slowly, her stomach fluttering wildly at the realization that Stiles was having an erotic dream. About her.

Before the boy could say anything truly vulgar, she leaned in somewhat nervously, covering his parted lips with her own and sliding her fingers back behind his ear. It only took a moment before his lips began to press back against hers, his head lifting up off of his arm slightly as he leaned up and tried instinctively to chase her mouth.

She sat back, still squatting down in front of him and smiled softly as he finally blinked his eyes open to look at her in befuddlement.

"Hey, sleepyhead." She said quietly, looking between his dream-dazed brown eyes.

"Hey," He responded in a sleepy grumble, "Was having a dream 'bout you."

She grinned, "So I heard."

Her comment seemed to startle him into alertness and he shot up startlingly fast, no longer looking remotely sleepy. She leaned back when his arms flailed in his attempt to sit upright and she laughed at him quietly as she dodged his waving limbs.

"Heard what?" Stiles asked as he settled finally into the chair, trying his best to look casual, "Did- Did I say anything?"

She rose to her knees and looked up at him with a small smile, "No. Nothing really." She fibbed easily.

He seemed to relax at the simple lie and she shook her head at him fondly as he sighed in relief. His gaze dropped down momentarily to the low neckline of her tank top before he took a slow breath, reaching down to grab her hand as he stood from his seat. She frowned in confusion as he began to drag her down the hallway but she went easily, trailing a step behind him and making a small noise of confusion.

"C'mon, I'm gonna get you something from the vending machine. You haven't eaten since before I got here, and that was at one-" He explained over his shoulder.

They stopped in front of the snack dispenser around the corner and her eyes flicked over the options for a moment, her hand still trapped in his. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Stiles dug around in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a few quarters. Once the coins were cupped in his hand, he looked over at her in anticipation.

She turned her head slightly and was caught by surprise under his expectant stare, "What?" She asked slowly.

"D'you know what you want?" He lifted his hand and hovered just over the coin slot, fingers ready to drop the quarters into the small opening.

Her gaze drifted back to look behind the glass once again and she gnawed on her bottom lip indecisively, "Hmm, J." She told him finally, finger tapping against the glass to point to the item with the corresponding letter.

Stiles dropped the quarters into the slot and each one landed with a loud clink inside of the machine.

"You want the Reese's?" He verified before daring to press anything, his finger hovering over the buttons in wait.

She nodded her assent and he pressed his finger over the letter J on the keypad, the arm holding on to the candy spinning backwards slowly but stopping before the item could fall down from the shelf.

Stiles made a small noise of distress and slammed his finger against the button on the keypad again a few times in frustration. When nothing happened, he slapped the glass with an annoyed frown and released her hand with a huff, reaching out to put his arms on either side of the machine and jostling it as he threw his body weight against the glass. He groaned in exertion and continued to shake the machine angrily.

Amber laughed at him quietly as she watched on in amusement, "Stiles, it's no big deal," She reached out to rest a hand over his shoulder blade, "It did this to one of the nurses yesterday. We just need to-"

Before she could finish, the machine tipped toward them precariously. In a quick motion, Stiles reached out to grip her biceps and he crowded her back out of the way with, his chest against hers, just as the vending machine fell forward and hit the ground where they'd been standing a moment before with a loud crash.

"Stiles!" She scolded in a whisper, her eyes wide in surprise. Her pulled gaze from the fallen machine behind him to his face, his chest still pressed flush to hers, "Why did you-"

"I- Sorry! I just-" He stammered, "It- It wouldn't give you your candy."

"Well, that was very sweet of you.. But now there definitely won't be any candy." She reached up to pat his cheek consolingly.

"Sure there will," He told her, stepping back and attempting to stick his fingertips beneath the machine as he squatted down beside it, "Help me get it back up."

"Stiles, that thing is at least five-hundred pounds," She said incredulously, "There's no way-"

A piercing scream rang out through the hospital unit and drowned out her voice. Her head snapped up, looking down the hallway and stomach turning with a cold sense of dread as she realized she recognized the scream.

"Lydia!" She yelled, her legs already carrying her down the hallway.

"What the hell was that?" She heard Ms. McCall ask loudly as Amber ran past her.

She ran around the corner and pushed through Lydia's empty hospital room until she skidded to a stop in the middle of the bathroom. She looked at the small, painfully deserted room as Lydia's dad and Ms. McCall came to crowd in the doorway behind her.

Amber felt sick as Ms. McCall reached around her to turn the running water off in the empty shower. Lydia was nowhere to be seen. Her discarded hospital gown was still lying on the bench beside the shower and the window along the wall had been pushed wide open to let in a cool breeze from outside.

"Where's Lydia?" Amber asked the room at large, heart pounding violently in her chest.

The adults both seemed to be a mix of confused and alarmed, looking between one another slowly, but neither knew how to answer the question.

Lydia was gone.

Amber took a shaky breath and spun around frantically, bumping into Stiles where he had been standing directly behind her as she did so. He was quick to wrap his arms around her shoulders pull her into a hug, whispering into her ear so that no one around them would overhear his words.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll call Scott and he can track her before she gets too far, alright?" He said softly. Amber nodded against the side of his face, "Okay." He repeated again, brushing his lips across her cheekbone in an barely there kiss before releasing her.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation and phone calls to the appropriate authorities, the adults in the room slowly trailed out into the hallway to meet the police and try to figure out a plan of action.

As soon as the bathroom was empty, Stiles rushed to grab a clean garbage bag from underneath the sink and stuffed Lydia's dirty hospital gown inside.

"What-" Amber started quietly.

"Scott can use it to get her scent." He explained, rolling up the trash bag and stuffing it into the waistband of his jeans beneath the back of his sweatshirt.

Amber pulled her phone out of the pocket of the sweats she was wearing to send Scott a frantic text message as she allowed Stiles to guide her slowly out into the hallway. She could already hear Sheriff Stilinski's voice as he spoke with Ms. McCall and Mr. Martin, another uniformed deputy trailing only a step behind the group.

Stiles urged Amber to walk closer so that they could listen in on what was being said.

"Alright," Sheriff Stilinski said, turning to face the deputy, "Let's get an APB out on a sixteen year old redhead. Any other descriptors?" He asked, turning toward Lydia's dad.

Amber pushed forward into the throng of adults aggressively, "She's five-foot three, has green eyes, wears a size seven to a seven and a half shoe — depending on the type, she's fair skinned, and her hair actually isn't red, it's strawberry blonde-" She listed off quickly, lifting a finger to count as she listed off each descriptor.

"Is that so?" The Sheriff asked her, looking between her and where Stiles was standing behind her slowly, the man's eyes flicking between them with a slightly aggravated look. He reached around Amber's shoulder to grab a hold of his son with a hand at the back of the boy's neck, leading him a couple of steps away as Amber trailed close behind. "Why is it that you somehow manage to be present for everything that goes wrong in this town, huh? What the hell are you still doing here?" The Sheriff asked his son in a hushed whisper.

Stiles looked at him with wide eyes, flicking his gaze to Amber over his dad's shoulder as she came to stand beside them, "Um. I was providing moral support?" He said quietly, sounding unsure.

Amber stepped up behind Stiles and placed her hand at the small of his back, pressing against the garbage bag tucked into his waistband to ensure it wouldn't slip during the conversation.

"How about you provide your ass back home, where you should be." The Sheriff suggested quietly, attention flicking over to Amber for a brief second, "And take Amber home while you're at it."

"I- I can do that too." Stiles agreed quickly.

"Yeah." The Sheriff said slowly, releasing his son and keeping his eyes on them determinedly.

Amber readjusted Stiles' hoodie over his back and led him back down the hallway where they could grab her duffle bag from Lydia's hospital room. When she got to the bag, she unzipped it quickly, stuffing her abandoned book and sticky notes into the bottom before reaching into the back of Stiles' jeans to grab the garbage bag. He made a small noise of surprise but didn't fight her as she pulled out the gown-filled plastic bag and stuffed it into her duffel.

As she zipped the bag closed, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out to skim over the new message from Scott.

"Scott's here," She relayed quickly as they headed down the hallway toward the elevators, "He heard her scream. Said he was already on his way here when I texted."

Stiles let out a breath and reached up to grab a hold of her shoulder as the elevator brought them back down to the main floor. Her stomach was turning with anxious worry and when the elevator doors slid open, Stiles' hand slipped from her shoulder when she didn't immediately move to step out with him.

He paused just one step across the threshold of the elevator and did a slow spin, turning to face her when he realized she was no longer beside him.

"Hey, what-"

"Stiles. I'm freaking out." She admitted quietly.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the elevator to stand in front of him. He frowned as his eyes scanned the panic on her face, reaching up to brush her hair back out of her face gently.

"Look, d'you trust Scott?" He prompted.

"I mean.. I love him. But-" She started honestly.

Stiles rolled his eyes lightly, "Do you trust him?" He repeated firmly.

"Yeah." She said finally in a small voice.

"Alright. Then trust that he'll be able to find her, 'kay?" He reassured gently.

She nodded and took a determined breath, "Okay."

Without another word, Stiles gripped her hand in his and rushed out of the building in the direction of where he'd parked his Jeep that afternoon. Scott was already sitting in the passenger seat, so Amber crawled in from the driver's side and settled beside him as Stiles climbed in after her.

She unzipped her duffel bag and pulled out Lydia's hospital gown, handing it over to Scott quickly as she tossed her bag uncaringly into the backseat.

Scott examined the fabric in his hand, flipping it over slowly between his fingers, "This is the one she was just wearing?" He verified.

"Obviously." She confirmed quietly, looking at her friend with wide eyes as she waited for him to do something with the bundle of cloth.

Scott looked up at her with a small frown, lifting a hand to squeeze her shoulder, "I'm not gonna let anything happen to her," He promised, "Not again."

She swallowed and nodded, taking a shaky breath.

"Just shove the thing in your face and let's find her." Stiles said impatiently, going to start the car, "Ho- Wow-!" He exclaimed when the headlights clicked on as the engine turned over, the glow illuminating Allison standing directly in front of the car.

"Jesus." Amber whispered in surprise, her own heart beating quick in her chest as Allison rushed over to the passenger side of the Jeep.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked out the open window, "Someone's going to see us-" He worried, knowing that he and Allison were very much no longer allowed to be seen together, given her family's profession of choice.

"I don't care." Allison told him, "She is my best friend and we need to find her before they do-"

"I'm sorry-" Amber cut in quickly, "They who?"

"I can find her before the cops can." Scott said to Allison, ignoring his best friends interruption.

"How about before my father does?" Allison questioned.

"What?!" Amber squeaked nervously.

"He knows?" Stiles asked from behind her.

"Yeah," Allison confirmed, "I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

Scott turned his head to look between Stiles and Amber, "A search party-" He supplied nervously.

"It's more like a hunting party." Allison corrected.

Scott turned back to the girl outside of the vehicle and his hand fumbled on the door handle, "Get in."

Amber frowned as Allison climbed into the car past Scott and tumbled into the mess in the backseat. Amber took a slow breath, not thrilled about having Allison sitting directly behind her unsuspecting back, but fighting the nervous feeling of distrust in her gut for the sake of Lydia's safety.

She crossed her arms over her stomach and pinched the corner of Stiles' outer-layered sweatshirt tightly between her fingers to settle her anxiety as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Alright," Stiles started as he sped down the main road in town and headed west at Scott's command, "But if she's turning, would they actually kill her?"

"I don't know," Allison said, leaning forward in her seat and putting her face over Amber's shoulder beside Scott, "They won't tell me anything."

Amber turned in her seat to squint at Allison in the dark car skeptically.

"Okay.." Allison backtracked when she caught the other girl's gaze, "All they say is, 'We'll talk after Kate's funeral. When the others get here.'"

"What others?" Amber asked quickly.

"I don't know. They won't tell me that either." Allison replied.

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on." Stiles observed.

Amber turned in her seat to look over at where Scott had his head stuck out the window to search for Lydia's scent, "Scott! Are we going the right way?" She asked loudly.

His head tilted as he took a breath into his nose through the breeze outside of the moving vehicle, "Take the next right!" He called back.

They were already coming up on the turn as he spoke and Stiles reached out automatically to brace his arm over Amber's chest as they veered sharply onto a road that would lead them out toward the preserve.

Scott directed them to take several turns over the next ten minutes as they headed down the winding roads out into the more wooded area of town. When he finally directed them to take a left onto a familiar long gravel driveway, Amber frowned in confusion.

"How the hell would Lydia have gotten all the way out here so quickly?" She asked as Scott pulled his head back into the vehicle.

Scott shrugged, "The roads out here aren't as direct. If she ran through the woods it wouldn't have taken her long."

Stiles parked the Jeep around the final turn of the drive and they all slowly climbed out of the car before making their way to the edge of the treeline surrounding what was left of the large burned house.

After no more than a minute, Amber huffed quietly as she shivered, her exhale releasing a foggy cloud into the air. She reached up in an attempt to rub some warmth into her bare arms as they walked and Stiles seemed to catch sight of her movement, quickly beginning to strip off one of the two zip-up hoodies he had layered over his tshirt.

"Here, sorry," He apologized quickly, draping one of the sweatshirts around her shoulders as he readjusted the other over his torso, "I should've given you this before-"

"Thank you." She told him softly as she stuck her arms through the sleeves.

Once she had the sweatshirt pulled on over her tank top, she pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger and leaned in to press a small appreciative kiss to his lips.

"Hold- Wh- When did this-" Scott looked between his best friends with wide eyes, "When did you guys-?"

Amber leaned back and frowned, "I- Friday.. At formal-"

"There's no way I didn't mention that." Stiles told Scott.

Scott shook his head, "You definitely did not mention that." He disagreed, looking between them again, "I mean, it's great! I'm happy for you guys-"

"Scott this is.. Really sweet but can we please focus on looking for Lydia?" Amber interrupted, playing with the sleeves hanging down over the palms of her hands.

Allison stepped up beside her and laughed awkwardly, "Thank god. I didn't want to interrupt but-"

"Okay, alright." Scott agreed, "C'mon."

They began to move through the trees again and Amber frowned in thought as her gaze trailed over to the Hale house beside them. Stiles followed her eyeline and seemed to catch on to her confused train of thought.

"Lydia came here?" He asked, looking over his shoulder toward Scott, "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Scott shrugged, looking around slowly, "This is where the scent leads."

"Alright," Stiles said, "But has Lydia ever been here?" He asked, both he and Scott turning to Amber in anticipation of her response.

She shook her head, "No, I never brought her here." She let her own gaze drift over to Allison skeptically and the other girl's eyes widened.

"She didn't come here with me either," Allison defended, "Maybe she came here on instinct.. Like she was looking for Derek."

"You mean looking for an Alpha." Scott clarified.

"I- Wolves need a pack, right?" Allison asked.

"Not all of them." Scott said after a moment of hesitation.

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha?" Allison questioned, "Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?"

"Yeah, we're-" Scott paused, "We're stronger in packs."

Allison nodded, "Like strength in numbers."

Scott shook his head, looking between Allison and Amber for a moment before he spoke, "No. Like- Like literally. Stronger, faster, better in every way-"

Amber huffed in annoyance at the amount of information Scott was willingly imparting on the other girl and she turned to step away from the conversation. She spotted Stiles standing a few yards away, brushing leaves around on the ground where he was squatted down, his head tilted as he examined something.

"What is it?" She asked quietly, settling a hand on his back as she squatted down beside him.

"Woah, it's- Hold on," He said softly before raising his voice to call out to the two still behind them, "Hey! Look at this. Y'see this?" He pinched a dark piece of wire strung out along the ground between his fingers lightly.

Amber reached out to softly run her fingers over it as well as she examined the thick strand of garotte wire that ran just a few inches above the forest floor. She heard footsteps come up behind them as someone followed to see what they were looking at and she turned her head to find Allison squatting down beside her.

"I think it's a tripwire." Stiles explained to the girls quietly, pulling up on the wire with his index finger.

There was a quiet noise in the leaves behind them and Amber turned to find Scott hanging upside down by his ankle.

"Stiles." She whispered, nudging his shoulder with her hand.

"Hm?" He hummed distractedly, still looking down at the wire in his hands.

"Stiles." Scott said from behind them, his louder than Amber's had been.

"Yeah, buddy?" Stiles asked, finally turning around to look behind them, "-Oh."

"Next time you see a tripwire," Scott started, his momentum carrying him back and forth through the air like a pendulum, "Don't trip it."

Amber immediately went to see if she could help Scott, reaching out to stay him and stop him from swinging back and forth quite so much.

"Noted." Stiles told Scott from behind her.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Scott said frantically, reaching his hands out from where they had been dangling over his head to grab Amber's waist and shove her a step away.

"Wha-" She started before he cut her off.

"Someone's coming." Scott whispered aggressively, looking between his three friends, "Hide!" They all looked around the dark treeline curiously for a moment and Scott huffed, "Go!"

Amber was tugged backwards by Stiles' hand wrapped around her shoulder as he urgently pulled her and Allison back down the slope a few hundred feet. They ducked down close to the ground, peering around the cover of a tree as a group of four figures approached Scott slowly.

One of them squatted down to eye-level with the dangling boy and Amber frowned, entirely unsurprised when she heard Allison's dad's voice.

"Scott." He greeted simply.

"Mr. Argent." Scott greeted back weakly.

"How are you doing?" Chris Argent asked slowly.

Scott shrugged awkwardly from his upside down position, still swinging back and forth through the air slightly.

"Good, y'know. Just hangin' out." Scott joked, looking up at his trapped ankle, "This one of yours?" He questioned, "It's uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting-"

"What are you doing out here, Scott?" Allison's dad asked, unamused.

"Looking for my friend." Scott told him seriously.

"Ah, that's right," Mr. Argent sighed, "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? A part of your clique? Is that the word you'd use? Or is there another way you'd put it?" He prompted slowly, "Part of your pack?"

"Actually, clique sounds about right to me." Scott answered.

Mr. Argent hummed, "I hope so. Because I know she's a friend of Allison's, and one special circumstance, such as yourself.. One I can handle." He said, "Not two."

There was a silent pause and Amber reached out to nudge her pinky against Stiles' nervously. She let out a small breath when he silently hooked his own finger around hers and locked them together.

"Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" Chris Argent asked.

"I have a feeling I don't want to." Scott answered honestly.

"A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist-" The man explained, "Cutting them in half."

Amber's stomach tightened and she let out a shaky breath at the reminder of Laura Hale. Stiles' finger tightened around hers as if he could somehow feel her sudden anxiety and she locked her jaw to keep it from trembling.

"It takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that-" Mr. Argent continued slowly.

She felt like she was going to be sick, the image of the gaping wound at Laura's hips flashing in her mind as clearly as the day she'd stumbled across it on the trail in the woods. She could vividly remember the long smooth cut in the flesh, the lack of hesitation where the blade had torn through her cleanly. She remembered the way she'd so easily been able to see all of the bones and muscles where the lower half of the body had been sliced open.

She was distracted by the memory, her blood pounding so loudly in her ears that she didn't even notice when the group of men left. She was pulled to her feet by Stiles' hands in hers and she blinked as her eyes finally refocused to find him standing in front of her.

"Y'okay?" He asked her quietly.

She nodded slowly, pulling in a deep breath through her nose, "Yeah," She said finally, "Sorry. I- I'm fine."

As she came back to herself, she tugged on his hand and jogged back up to where Scott was still caught in the trap. Stiles released her hand and he and Allison moved over to where he'd tripped the wire in the first place.

"Help me with this." Allison told him as they worked at where the trap was hooked up to a tree trunk.

Amber reached up to pull uselessly at the thick wire around Scott's ankle but he bent at the waist, leaning up, claws sprouting from his fingertips. He sliced them through the wire under her fingers easily and fell down to the ground, landing smoothly on his feet beside her.

"I think I got it." Scott announced with a goofy grin.

She rolled her eyes and reached up to punch him in the shoulder, "Show off." She scoffed.

Scott grinned wider and shrugged at her, reaching up to grab her shoulder and push her back in the direction of their friends.

"How long can we look for Lydia until we, like, desperately need to go home and get to bed for school tomorrow?" Amber asked the group at large.

Scott shrugged, "Maybe eleven?"

"Eleven?" Allison repeated in disbelief, "If I'm not home by nine, my parents will ground me for life."

"Nine?" Amber repeated this time, pulling out her phone to check the time anxiously, "Are you kidding? It's already almost eight!"

Stiles' arm dropped around Amber's shoulders and he pulled her into his side as they walked, "So, we'll look for another hour. My dad has the whole Sheriff's department looking for her, alright?"

She sighed, burrowing further into the warmth of Stiles' torso. A heavy feeling of worry settled deeper into her gut as she realized that if she was cold in sweats and a hoodie, then she couldn't even imagine how Lydia must be feeling.

They needed to find her.

On Monday night, Amber was typing up a search party sign-up sheet to distribute to the teachers at school the following day. She was desperate to find Lydia, but evidently four teenagers and the entire Sheriff's Department just wasn't enough bodies to cover the sheer amount of densely wooded territory that Beacon Hills was home to.

She was shutting down her laptop and stuffing it into her backpack when she noticed a dark figure in the corner of her eye.

"Jesus fucking Christ-" She whispered, flinching and knocking a cup full of pencils and highlighters to the ground with a small crash, "Derek!"

The older werewolf was sitting on the edge of her bed casually, flipping through the book that she'd been reading over the weekend at the hospital. His gaze lifted from the book when he heard her exclamation and he raised his eyebrows with an unimpressed look.

She huffed and bent down to pick up the spilled writing utensils, shoving them back into their cup aggressively, "You need a freaking bell or something." She muttered quietly under her breath as she got to her feet again and placed the cup back onto her desk.

"Or you need better hearing." Derek suggested, "I've been here for five minutes."

"You've-" She spun around to face him and scrunched her face up in irritation, "You could've said something, then. Instead of just lingering around quietly and waiting to give me a heart attack."

"You're not in a very good mood." He observed, closing the book in his hands and setting it back on the nightstand where Amber knew she'd initially left it.

"No. I'm not." She snapped quietly, turning back to her desk to finish putting her school books into her bag. "In case you forgot, I was present for, not one, but two murders a couple of days ago, one of my best friends was bitten by a werewolf and is now missing, and I've had an overall shitty weekend. I'm so very sorry if my mood isn't up to your standards."

"Okay.." Derek said slowly, "Well, I have a proposition for you-"

"Yeah? Well, I have a proposition for you too," She interrupted, spinning back around to face him, "How about you go back in time and not murder the only chance Scott had at being human again. How about that?"

Derek looked taken aback at her hostility, "What?"

"You said yourself that Peter was the only way Scott could be cured," Amber explained, huffing in frustration, "And you still went ahead and ruined it! You- you ripped your own uncle's throat out! I mean, sure, he was a total nut job but-" She took a shaky breath as the image of Derek's bloody clawed hand re-emerged in her mind.

"There is no cure." Derek said simply.

"Yeah, I know!" She snapped, "Because you killed-"

"No," He interrupted sounding wholly exasperated, "There was never a cure, Amber. There's nothing that can reverse the effects of the bite. Ever."

"But-" She faltered, eyebrows furrowing, "But you told Scott-"

Derek sighed a long suffering sigh, "I know what I told Scott. But he was being an idiot and I needed him to focus in order to help me find the Alpha," He explained, "I told him what he wanted to hear. That there was a way to fix everything and that the Alpha was the answer."

"You.. You lied?" She said slowly.

Derek reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighed again, "Yes. I lied."

"There's no cure.. And there never was?" She asked, feeling like she needed clarification one last time.

"There never was." He confirmed.

She moved across the room slowly and sat down on her bed a few feet away from him as the information processed. Derek allowed her to sit silently for a long minute before he stood and crossed the room, moving over to the space in front of the desk that she'd only just vacated. He leaned back against the surface and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning in thought.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to say before?" She realized, watching his behavior with a confused frown.

"I was going to get right into it but now I feel like I should explain things a little first." He said quietly.

"Explaining is good." She nodded slowly, urging him to continue.

He sighed and pinched his face in a tight frown, "All werewolves are drawn with the instinct to be a part of a pack," He started, watching her closely to be sure she was following, "But the instinct is different for Alphas. Stronger."

"That's why Peter bit Scott that night in the woods." She deduced.

Derek nodded, "Even out of his mind, he knew he needed a Beta to take up a pack bond with. Needed it in order to lessen some of that instinct- To make it bearable."

"And now.." She started slowly, "Now that you're the Alpha, you're feeling that instinct?"

"Yes."

She nodded, pulling her legs up underneath herself on the mattress and toying with her fingers in her lap as she thought, "What does it feel like?" She asked curiously, "The instinct to build a pack."

"It feels like shit." He said simply, "It's like- It's like a hollow feeling of loneliness. I felt it, when Laura died.. When I was a Beta and on my own for the first time, but-"

"But?" Amber prompted after a second of silence.

"But it's a hundred times worse as an Alpha," He explained, "Borderline painful. Just, this stabbing longing in your gut for something you don't have."

"But don't you have a Beta?" She asked, "I mean, Scott's a part of your pack now, right?"

Derek shook his head, "I'd feel it if he was. Scott doesn't want to be a part of my pack."

She frowned and Derek continued.

"-But I thought maybe you might."

"That I might what?" She questioned in confusion.

"Want to be a part of my pack." He finished, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands back to rest on the desk on either side of him.

"Like-" She blinked in shock, "Like, as a werewolf?"

"Yes. As a werewolf."

"I don't want to be a werewolf." She said quickly.

Derek frowned like he was truly perplexed, "You don't?"

"No!" She told him, "Wh- Why would I want to become a werewolf? Are you joking?"

"Why wouldn't you?" He prompted, "I mean, you'll be as strong as Scott. You'll be able to hear, see, and smell better. You'll be able to protect yourself-"

"While also attacking my best friends?" She finished incredulously, "No way."

Derek shook his head, "I'd help you control that. We could wait until after Wednesday and then we'd have a whole month before the next full moon-"

"No." She said again, "I- I don't want to be a werewolf."

His shoulders seemed to slump a fraction when he realized her decision had been made, "Fine."

She rose from the bed and approached him with a frown, "I'm sorry, Derek."

"It's fine." He told her again.

"We- We can figure something else out, though. I mean, I could help you find someone and then by the next full moon-"

"I already have someone else." He told her.

"I- You what?" She asked, looking up at him in alarm.

"I'm going to do it tomorrow." He said easily, "I watched him over the weekend to make sure he was the right choice for the pack. I'm going to talk to him tonight so he has some time to think about it and then tomorrow I'm going to give him the bite."

"Wh- He? He who?" She prodded, "And.. You're going to bite him a day before the full moon? Have you actually lost your mind?"

"I wasn't initially planning on doing it so soon, but circumstances-"

"Circumstances?" She repeated in disbelief, "What kind of circumstances could possibly justify turning someone into a werewolf with only twenty-four hours to prepare before the full moon?"

"The kid needs to be able to defend himself or there's a pretty good chance his piece of shit dad's gonna kill him." Derek explained after a moment of hesitation.

"'Kid'?" She questioned after he finished, "How old qualifies as 'kid'?"

"He's sixteen." Derek said, "Goes to your school. Isaac Lahey."

"Isaac Lahey?" She repeated slowly, her eyes drifting to the wall behind the werewolf as she pictured the outrageously tall boy on the lacrosse team.

"Yes."

Her eyes snapped back to Derek with a glare, "And how exactly are you planning on stopping Isaac from attacking and killing someone at school if he gets a little angry? Huh?"

"Isaac doesn't get angry." He said simply.

"Wh- Everybody gets angry." She argued.

"Not Isaac." Derek replied, "Kid's too scared to get angry."

"Scared of what?" She asked quietly.

"His dad. Himself. Everyone and everything around him." Derek listed off easily.

Amber shook her head and took a small step back, "His dad's that bad?" She asked softly, "You really aren't sure if Isaac will be dead in the next couple of days.. Because of his dad?"

Derek nodded.

"Okay.." She sighed, shaking her hands out at her sides, "Okay, we can figure this out-"

"We don't need to figure anything out," He interrupted, "You don't want to be a part of the pack and I don't need your help."

"You don't need my-?" She stammered, "Wh- Of course you need my help."

Derek's eyes narrowed, "I don't need any help controlling my pack. Especially not from a sixteen year old little girl."

"I- You came to me." She pointed out.

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "Yeah. Clearly that was a mistake."

He turned to leave and she followed after him in distress, "Wh- Derek don't be like that-"

"You want to stay human. That's fine." He told her without looking back, "But if you stay human, then stay out of things."

She opened her mouth to respond but he was already gone.

Amber got to the school on Tuesday morning early with the intent of getting the fliers printed out and distributed between the teachers before the start of first period at eight o'clock. She was surprised when she climbed out of her car at six forty-five to see Stiles and Scott tumbling out of the Jeep and heading toward the building already.

"Hey!" She called out, jogging to catch up with them as they walked up the path to the school, "Guys, wait up!"

Scott and Stiles both turned to her in confusion.

"What are you doing here so early?" Stiles asked curiously.

"I'm printing out the fliers for the search party tonight and then I was gonna work on my World History project in the Library until English." She explained, shivering when the breeze blew across her bare legs beneath the thick woven fabric of her sweater dress, "Do you guys have a morning practice or something?"

They both nodded.

"Every day this week." Scott told her.

She looked over at Stiles and watched him readjust his backpack over his shoulder awkwardly.

Amber's posture slumped as she regarded him, "Uh, what- What were you guys talking about?"

"Lydia." Scott supplied easily, flinching when Stiles elbowed him in the side aggressively.

"Why?" She asked quickly, "What happened now?"

Stiles shook his head with a sigh, "We think she raided a casket at the graveyard at like three o'clock this morning."

"'Raided a casket'?" She repeated, "What does that mean? What would she want from a dead person?"

"Apparently their liver." Stiles supplied.

"What?" Amber squeaked in surprise. "What would she do with a liver?"

"Eat it." Scott said with a disgusted wince.

"I never said she ate it. I just said that's what was missing." Stiles disagreed, wrapping an arm around Amber's shoulders over her backpack straps as he started walking toward the school building again, "And y'know what? Even if she did, so what? It's the most nutritious part of the body."

Amber gagged at the thought.

"I never ate anyone's liver." Scott pointed out.

Amber scoffed, "Yeah, because when it comes to werewolves, you're a real model of self-control." She said sarcastically.

"Actually, wait." Stiles stopped walking suddenly, his arm tightening around Amber's shoulder as he looked over at Scott, "Hold on. You're the test case for this," Stiles told Scott, "So, we should be going over what happened to you."

"What d'you mean?" Scott asked in confusion.

"I mean, like, what was going through your mind when you were turning, y'know? What were you drawn to?" Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged, "Allison."

Amber rolled her eyes with a deep sigh as she let her head fall back to rest over Stiles' arm, reaching up to fist her hand in the soft material of the heavy brown flannel he was wearing.

"God. Nothing else?" She asked Scott, "Seriously?"

Scott shrugged at his best friends, "Nothing else mattered. But- No. That's good though, right?" He asked, looking between them slowly, "'Cause the night that Lydia was bit, she was with the two of you."

Stiles sighed, his fingers gripping Amber's shoulder tight, "Yeah, but.. She was looking for Jackson."

They all frowned in thought and after a few moments, Amber reached up to pull Stiles' arm from around her back.

"Alright. We'll talk more about this later," She told them both, "But I need to go print off a bunch of sign-up sheets and you guys need to go get changed for practice."

Scott nodded and took a step toward the side entrance near the locker rooms, pausing in confusion and looking back at them when Stiles didn't immediately follow behind him.

"I'll be right there." Stiles promised, making a face at Scott over Amber's shoulder that she couldn't decipher the meaning of.

"Alright, dude." Scott agreed with a quiet laugh, "See you in there."

"What was that about?" Amber asked as she turned her head to watch Scott walk inside alone.

Her gaze drifted back over to Stiles and he had his lips pulled together nervously, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack tight, "I, uh, I wanted to say goodbye. Y'know, privately."

"Goodbye?" She chuckled, "I'm gonna see you in like an hour in English. I sit right in front of you, remember? Just like I have all year.. And, what-? Privately?"

"Nevermind."

Stiles huffed in annoyance and his gaze dropped to the sidewalk under their feet for a moment before he took a step to follow after Scott.

"Ohh.. Oh!" She realized suddenly, reaching out to grab his arm, "No, no! Wait, I'm sorry. You meant like-" She swallowed, continuing more quietly, "Like, a romantic goodbye?"

He shrugged, "Yeah."

She smiled at how cute he was, standing in front of her, looking adorably nervous. She bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to hide how ridiculously giddy she felt at having his thoughts focussed on her romantically.

"Okay." She told him softly.

"Okay?" He repeated.

"Okay. I'd like my romantic goodbye, now." She grinned.

"Oh, I- Okay." He said nervously, looking at the other students loitering around them for a moment before his eyes went back to her.

He took a small step closer, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as he leaned in painfully slow and she lifted onto her toes, gripping the loose lapels of his flannel between her fingers as she met his lips halfway.

She got lost in the feeling of his mouth on hers after a moment and when he parted his lips slightly on one of his slow, soft, repetitive kisses, she tugged at his flannel and unconsciously licked her tongue into the small opening of his mouth to quickly brush against his.

His hand spread out over the side of her face and he guided her to tilt her head so that his own tongue could follow on the next deeper kiss. Her fingers tightened further around the thick fabric of his overshirt, head hazy and unable to focus on anything except the points of contact between them.

She reeled back, flinching in surprise, as someone wolf-whistled at them from a few feet away.

"Oops." Stiles said quietly, a small smile on his lips as he dropped his hand down over the top of her shoulder.

"You should go get changed for practice." She told him breathlessly, eyes still focussed on the soft shine their kiss had left over his lips.

"Yeah." He agreed, making no move to put any distance between them, continuing to look at her with a goofy grin on his face.

"I think that'll require going to the locker room and y'know.. Getting changed." She prompted gently.

He sighed dramatically in feigned annoyance, "Yeah, okay-" He pressed his lips to her cheekbone in a quick kiss and dashed off toward the school's side entrance.

Amber stood in place for a few seconds, stunned. She lifted her fingers to brush delicately over the place where his mouth had left a clumsy kiss over her cheek, biting down on her lip to contain her smile. She laughed quietly to herself before shaking her head and walking down the path toward the main entrance of the building.

Once she was inside, she headed into the Library to print off several copies of the sign-up fliers she'd drafted the night before.

With a large stack of the fliers printed and ready, she pulled out a notebook and settled into one of the tables to jot down bits and pieces of information she needed to finish her project for World History. She worked on her assignment for just under an hour before she hurriedly put away the books she'd been using and packed her things back up, dashing out of the Library with the stack of sign-up sheets in her hands.

She rushed around to all of the classrooms to get a copy on each teacher's desk before taking off in the direction of the boy's locker room, hoping to catch Coach Finstock before he let the boys shower and get changed for classes.

She was nearly there when she spotted the back of Isaac Lahey's tall frame, still wearing his jersey from their morning practice and carrying his lacrosse bag over his shoulder, clearly the last one to come back inside from the field.

"Isaac!" She called, running up behind him.

The boy flinched at the volume of her voice and turned to face her in surprise. She frowned when her gaze caught on the dark purpling bruise over his left eye and her steps faltered momentarily before she regained her focus.

"Hi, Isaac." She greeted with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, fighting the urge to look at his injured eye.

"Um, hi." He said slowly, looking around as if he was unsure why she was speaking to him.

"What's up?" She asked casually.

"Uh," He slowed his steps to match her shorter stride and readjusted his bag over his shoulder, "I'm heading to the locker room. Lacrosse team had a morning practice."

"Yeah, me too!" She told him. Isaac looked at her in confusion and she continued, "I mean, not 'me too' like I had morning practice too. I'm just heading to the locker room. Gotta give this flier to Finstock." She supplied, waving the paper in her hands in show.

"Okay." He said slowly.

"I, um, I also wanted to talk to you." She said carefully.

"What about?" Isaac asked in confusion.

"I, um-" She paused, "I know Derek. Derek Hale."

Isaac's eyes widened and he looked around them quickly before his eyes drifted over her in scrutiny, "Are- Are you-?"

"No," She told him quickly, "But I know that Derek offered to-"

"I, uh, I should get in there. Gotta get changed or I'll end up being late for first period." Isaac interrupted, pushing the locker room door open and slipping inside before she could respond.

She looked at the empty space where he'd been standing a moment before and sighed before cautiously going through the door after him. She made her way through the changing room toward Coach Finstock's office at the back, where she handed him the flier as she explained the plan she'd gone over with the principal and Stiles' dad the day before.

He yanked the paper from her hands and stepped out of his office, "I have an announcement!" He yelled, pulling the attention of the teenage boys around him, "Gather 'round! Quicker!"

Coach nodded for her to step up beside him as the team slowly made their way to huddle in the area in front of his office. The teacher held his hand up to block her eyes for a moment and she blinked in surprise at the fingers in front of her face.

"Danny, put a shirt on." Coach berated quickly before dropping his hand, "Let's go! Gather 'round." He repeated, waiting until the boys in front of him gave him their full attention urging Amber to speak.

"Um, right." She said awkwardly, looking around at the lacrosse team, "So, the police are asking for help on a missing child advisory.. It's a, um, a sick girl roaming around.. It's my friend Lydia-"

"She's totally naked." Coach Finstock interrupted.

There was a small round of chuckles among the team members and someone at the back of the group whistled. Amber glared as she looked over the group of boys in front of her, meeting Stiles' gaze where he was giving her a reassuring smile as Coach continued.

"Now, it's supposed to get down to forty degrees tonight. I don't know about you, but the last time it was that cold and I was running around naked, I lost a testicle to exposure." He paused, seemingly lost in thought, and Amber frowned and reached up to give their teacher an awkward pat on his shoulder. He shook his head and the action seemed to refocus him quickly, "Now, I don't want the same thing happening to some innocent girl. So, police are organizing search parties for tonight."

He held up the flier in his hand and made a show of taping it to the outside of his office door.

"You sign up-" He told the group, "And you get an automatic 'A' in my classes."

The team cheered excitedly and rushed toward the sign up sheet, pushed past Amber and Coach Finstock as they hurried to write their names on the piece of paper.

She moved through the crowd of boys to look for Stiles and Scott and found them at the back of the room talking quietly. She brushed her hand over the back of Stiles' practice jersey as she stepped up beside them.

"What's up?" She asked curiously.

"We're gonna ask for Jackson's help finding Lydia," Scott told her quietly, peering behind himself at where Jackson was standing a few feet away, "If she's drawn to him, then maybe-"

"Jackson!" Amber called immediately, stepping around Scott and heading toward the other boy as her best friends both made quiet noises of dissent behind her. Jackson scowled at her as she approached and she continued toward him with a sharp look, "You're going to help us find Lydia." She told him.

"That- That's not exactly how we were planning on proposing the idea-" Stiles said quietly, stepping up behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder.

Jackson looked between the three of them with an unimpressed frown, "If Lydia wants to take a naked hike in the woods, why should I care?"

"Because a normal human being with feelings would be worried about her." She said sharply.

"-Also, because we have a pretty good idea that she might be-" Scott paused, looking around them cautiously before finishing in a quiet voice, "Y'know.. Turning."

"Turning?" Jackson repeated blankly.

"Yeah, turning." Scott replied slowly.

Jackson looked between the three of them again in confusion, "Into-?"

"A unicorn." Stiles snapped sarcastically after a moment of silence, "What do you think, dumbass?"

"Well, I think if Lydia's turning, she's not the one who's gonna need help." Jackson told them.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Amber asked, annoyed with his vagueness.

Jackson sighed, "You've got it all backwards. When I was with Lydia, you should've seen the scratch marks she left on me." He said with a smug grin, "What do you think she's gonna do with a set of real claws?" He laughed at the stunned look on their faces quietly and pushed past them.

Amber to a step to follow after him, angry at the derogatory comment within the implication, but Scott and Stiles both pulled her back with hands on her arms. She turned to face her best friends with a dark look still clouding her features.

"Y'know, for the record, he's completely full of shit because I know for a fact he isn't even that good in bed-" She revealed quietly. Stiles and Scott both looked at her in shock and she shook her head, "Not- Gross, not like that. Just- Girls talk about those things, so y'know-"

"They do?" Scott and Stiles both asked, sounding equal parts nervous.

"Yeah?" She told them in confusion.

"Girls.. They talk to each other about, like-" Scott stammered with wide eyes, "Whether it was good, or- Or average, or terrible, or whatever?"

She shrugged, "Yeah.. Do guys not do that?"

They both shook their heads and Scott spoke in a hushed voice, "It's more just like, 'hey, dude, I had sex', y'know? It's.. We don't really go into detail."

"Huh." Amber said as she processed the information. Her mind flashed with the in depth analyses Lydia had given her over the last seven months of her and Jackson's different sexual encounters, "Yeah.. Girls definitely go into detail."

"That's.. Terrifying." Stiles stated.

Scott nodded in agreement and they settled into a small lapse of silence as all three of them processed the new information they'd been given.

When third period rolled around, Amber entered the Chemistry classroom and moved toward the empty space beside Stiles, leaning down to press an enthusiastic kiss to the back of his head as she passed by. She dropped her books down on the table and settled onto the stool beside the window, turning her head to look at the boy beside her.

Stiles had a barely-there flush on his cheeks and he was already looking over at her with a dopey grin, his left cheek dimpling cutely.

"Hi." She greeted quietly.

"Hey." He replied.

"You guys are disgusting." Scott's voice announced from the table in front of them.

They both flinched in surprise and turned their heads to look at Scott.

Amber recovered quickly and leaned onto her elbows on the table, "Thanks." She grinned at Scott.

He shook his head with a small smile, "It wasn't a compliment."

She pulled out a pencil and her smile faded into a frown as Mr. Harris stood from his desk at the front of the room with a stack of papers just as the final bell rang out in the hallway.

"Alright." Mr. Harris said loudly, dropping small stacks of paper onto the tables at the front of the room, "You're going to do a pop quiz on chapters seven and eight so that I can monitor just how little you all are truly retaining." He told the class, looking around the room with a blank stare as everyone groaned quietly, "Once you have a quiz, you may begin."

Amber frowned as the papers were passed back slowly. Scott turned around to drop the quizzes on her and Stiles' table and he gave them a wide-eyed look of panic at the surprise assessment.

"You've got this, Scott." She whispered reassuringly, tapping her pencil eraser rhythmically on the tabletop as she lied.

He nodded at her with a quiet sigh and turned back around.

When she reached over to grab a paper from the stack, her gaze caught Stiles' and he raised his eyebrows in reference to the admittedly unrealistic comment of reassurance she'd made to Scott. She pouted at him with a small shrug before pointedly turning her attention to the quiz on the table in front of her.

She was halfway through the questions on the paper when Stiles leaned forward onto his elbows over the table to whisper between her and Scott.

"Alright, it's causing me severe mental anguish to say this, but.. I think Jackson's right." He told them quietly, his mind evidently on Lydia instead of Chemistry.

"I know." Scott responded in a hushed voice, angling his head back toward them slightly as he spoke.

"What if the next body part she steals is from someone who's still alive?" Stiles whispered again.

Amber's stomach clenched painfully at the thought, but it faded quick when Mr. Harris' sharp voice filled the quiet room and made her flinch in surprise.

"This is a pop quiz, Mr. Stilinski." Their teacher said, glaring toward the back of the room over the brim of his small glasses, "If I hear your voice again, I might be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career."

"Can you do that?" Stiles questioned immediately with wide eyes.

Amber reached out under the table to wrap her hand around his knee that was jutting toward her, squeezing in a silent plea for him to keep quiet.

"There it is again. Your voice-" Mr. Harris said with an irritated scowl, "Triggering the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student.. Repeatedly. And violently."

Amber bit down painfully on her lip in an effort to remain silent as Stiles' jaw dropped in disbelief beside her.

"I'll see you at three for detention." Mr. Harris stated, eyes drifting over to where Amber's face was pinched in frustration beside Stiles, "You too, Miss Callisto?"

She shook her head as she continued to bite down on her lower lip and Mr. Harris nodded in support of her decision to remain silent before he turned his attention back down to something on the desk in front of him.

She huffed a quiet breath of frustration through her nose and squeezed Stiles' knee reassuringly one final time before returning to her quiz.

"Dude.. Your nose." She heard Danny whisper from behind them after only a few seconds had passed, "You okay?"

She turned her head curiously to peer back toward Danny's table, watching as Jackson lifted a hand up to his face to cover what appeared to be a bad bloody nose. The boy pushed up from his chair quickly and rushed from the classroom and Amber watched him go with a small frown before shaking her head and turning her attention back to her quiz yet again.

At the end of the school day, Amber stood at her locker, clumsily stuffing her books into the backpack she had clenched between her knees as she hurriedly tried to collect her things. The sooner she got out into the woods to look for Lydia, the sooner she could actually find her friend.

And she wanted to find Lydia.. Like, yesterday.

"Here, let me help-" A voice said from just behind the door of her locker.

Her eyes snapped up in surprise and she watched the boy who had a locker three doors down from hers approach her. They'd never spoken, but he was on the lacrosse team and currently had his hand held out in an offering to take her bag. She hesitated in surprise for a moment and he gave her a friendly smile, raising his eyebrows in question as he reached toward her bag cautiously.

"Oh," She jumped, pulling the bag from between her legs and handing it over, "Thanks, Matt."

"No problem," He smiled, "You looked like you were struggling."

She laughed quietly and pulled a few notebooks she needed from her locker, "I was, actually. It's a lot easier when I'm wearing jeans and I can just squat down or prop my bag up on my knee or whatever."

He held her backpack open for her when she turned to tuck the notebooks inside and she heard him take a small nervous breath, "That.. That's a really nice dress." He complimented quietly, nodding his head in a gesture to her outfit.

"Oh," She blinked in surprise as she closed her locker, "I- Thanks." Her eyes caught on the large expensive looking wide-lens camera hanging around his neck as she turned and zipped her bag closed, "That's a nice camera. Are you a photographer for the paper, or yearbook, or something?"

Matt shook his head, relinquishing the bag to her as he responded, "Nah, I just take pictures for pleasure. It's more of a hobby than anything else."

"Oh, that's cool. Are you any good?" She commented conversationally, "Or- Is that a really annoying question?" She laughed, pulling her backpack straps over her shoulders.

Matt looked pleased, his posture seeming to straighten up a little at her curiosity, "Yeah, I think I'm alright." He smiled, "Maybe- Maybe I could show you some of my stuff sometime?"

"Yeah, sure. Sounds cool." She agreed, taking a small step to the side and pointing down the hallway, "I actually really need to get going, but- It was nice talking to you."

"Oh, yeah," Matt grinned, "You too."

She gave him another small smile before she moved toward the front entrance of the school. She needed to find Lydia before something terrible inevitably happened.

Amber hiked through the woods for nearly three and a half hours with absolutely no sign of Lydia. By nightfall, the temperature had already dropped significantly and she huffed out a foggy breath into the air as she finally clicked on her flashlight.

As the evening grew colder, she found herself feeling like an idiot for wearing a dress, even if it was a thick knit sweater that normally left her feeling a touch too warm, because while her torso was a comfortable temperature, her bare legs were covered in goosebumps.

She continued hiking in the dark for another thirty minutes before she heard a twig snap quietly in the distance. Her heart stuttered in her chest nervously and she took a shaky breath before making the decision to call out for her friend.

"Lydia?" She asked cautiously, continuing through the trees and shining her flashlight out into the darkness.

The beam of light caught on something pale white behind a tree and she took a few more quick steps forward to get a better look. The glow from the flashlight illuminated Lydia's naked body and Amber stumbled, scraping her knee roughly on the bark of the tree as she hurriedly ran toward her friend.

"Lydia!" Amber cried out in relief, watching the redhead take a small step over a rock with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Amber dropped her flashlight to the ground as she stepped in front of her friend and reached up to grip Lydia's arms. Amber looked into her friend's empty distant gaze and she tightened her hands around the other girl's cold arms.

"Lydia?" She asked softly, reaching up gently to move a knotted lock of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face, "You're okay. I'm gonna get you home, okay, Lyds?"

Lydia's eyes locked on hers for a second and the redhead nodded distractedly.

"Okay." Amber said softly in relief. Her hand on Lydia's arm tightened over her icy skin and Amber's heart stuttered anxiously, "Okay, we- We'll need to warm you up slowly, right?" She asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

She quickly dropped her hands from Lydia to pull off her dress, stripping down to her underwear without a second thought. Amber righted the thick knitted material now in her hands and slowly reached up to tug the fabric down over Lydia's head, untangling her friends arms slowly from where they were hugging her own chest to help guide her hands through the thick sleeves.

Lydia's body shivered at the sudden warmth enveloping her and Amber rubbed her hands up and down Lydia's arms worriedly.

"Is that a little better?" Amber asked quickly, "A little warmer?"

Lydia nodded minutely again and Amber looked down at her friend's bare feet nervously. Without hesitation, she pulled off her socks and sneakers, kneeling down in the dirt to help Lydia slide them both onto her freezing feet.

After she was done, Amber retrieved her abandoned flashlight from the ground and stood back up. She looked Lydia over and nodded to herself once she determined that she'd done the best she could until they made it out of the preserve.

She held out her hand toward her friend and Lydia looked at with a hollow gaze it for a few slow seconds before lacing their fingers together. Amber tightened her grip around Lydia's cold hand and pulled on her arm gently to lead her back toward the path she'd been following earlier.

As they walked, Amber's whole body erupted into goosebumps, dressed now in only the thin dark lace of her bra and underwear. She led Lydia as quickly as she could manage while still being careful not to rush her fragile-looking friend.

"Lydia, you have no idea how glad I am that you're okay," Amber admitted quietly as they walked, "We've been looking for you for days, you know. I was so worried that-" Her words cut off just before she could bring up the hunters who were also searching for her, "Just- I was really worried about you."

Lydia remained silent again but her fingers tightened a fraction around Amber's hand and that was as good of a response as anything she could've verbalized.

Amber's teeth were beginning to chatter and her toes were going numb as the cold earth seeped into her feet with every step. The numbness in her toes began to make it confusingly difficult to watch her step over twigs, and rocks, and tree roots when she couldn't even feel them beneath her.

They were only halfway down toward the trail entrance when she caught sight of flashing emergency lights through the trees and she made a quick decision to pull Lydia off of the path to head in that direction instead.

As they got closer, she could make out the different colors flashing of both an ambulance and a police vehicle. She reached out to move a large branch that was obstructing their path to the road. She clicked off her flashlight as she pulled the branch to the side, releasing Lydia's hand and urging her to go ahead of her through the narrow treeline.

"Lydia?" A voice said quietly as the redhead exited the woods and stepped out into the open, "Lydia!"

It was only when she heard his shout that Amber realized it was Stiles' voice. She stepped out from behind Lydia and continued to urge her friend forward. Her gaze lifted up to find Stiles and his dad standing a few yards away, staring at the two girls in astonishment.

Amber shivered violently and Lydia seemed to catch sight of it in the corner of her eye. The redhead blinked as she seemed to finally come back to herself and looked at the two Stilinski's with an unimpressed frown.

"Well?" Lydia asked, holding an arm out to gesture toward her friend's nearly naked body, "Is anyone gonna to get her a coat?"

Amber laughed quietly at her friend's typical snark but it came out as more of a trembling gasp as her body shuddered from the cold. Her eyes found Stiles but he was seemingly focused on her distinct lack of clothing, staring with his mouth open in awe.

He wasn't able to meet her gaze, struck dumb as his eyes drank in every blissful inch of bare skin on her shivering body. The only remaining thought in his head was dedicated to memorizing each and every curve adorning her nearly naked body. Until this very moment, the sight was one that he'd only ever been graced with in swimsuits — that, while perfect and incredible and had worked as fuel for many of Stiles' late night fantasies — couldn't possibly hold a candle to the thin lace weakly attempting to conceal her goosebump-ridden skin now.

His eyes found the unlined cups of her bra, the painfully hard buds poking through the material in the cold air and practically begging to break free, the dark lace pulled tight over the curves of her breasts.

He's nearly high with the static in his brain, blood rapidly rushing south and rendering him mildly dizzy as he reached up to grab ahold of the Sheriff's uniform jacket, pulling distractedly at the shoulder as he tugged the material down his dad's back without tearing his hungry eyes from what might very well be the most important thing he'd ever set sight on.

He yanked at the coat while stepping toward the two girls, head spinning and managing to trip over his own feet, hands slipping from the fabric when he fell and was forced to try to catch himself before he could hit the ground.

"Jesus." Sheriff Stilinski muttered, shaking his head at his son and stepping around the fallen boy to approach the girls, "Yep, here y'go." He said, pulling his coat off the rest of the way and draping it around Amber's shoulders.

She gasped a shaky breath at the warmth inside of the heavy jacket and couldn't help but shiver again.

The Sheriff's gaze drifted over the other deputies surrounding them and his eyes narrowed at the way they were blatantly staring. He turned back toward Amber and stepped in front of her protectively, instructing her to slide her arms through the sleeves and then tugging the coat closed around her. He zipped it up to the girl's neck before he stepped back and allowed his son to approach.

The Sheriff led Lydia away toward the ambulance that was already present while Stiles stumbled to stand in front of Amber.

"I found her." She stated obviously, shivering again.

Stiles nodded, eyes dropping to the long expanse of her bare legs beneath his dad's jacket before he dragged his gaze back up to her face.

"Did- did you just check me out?" She laughed quietly, "Because it wasn't subtle, like, at all."

"I- you're in your underwear." He observed, licking his lips nervously.

"Lydia was in the nude." She countered easily, "It was a pretty easy decision."

"Right." He nodded, blinking at her distractedly like he wasn't really seeing her.

"You're still just picturing me in my underwear?" She questioned slowly.

"Yeah." He told her honestly.

She shook her head with a fond smile, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his neck. She burrowed her cold nose into the warmth of his neck and sighed contentedly against his skin.

"I can't feel my toes." She admitted in a muffled voice against the collar of his flannel.

He reached up to rest his hands on her back, "Where's your car?"

"At the bottom of the trail on route 5." She told him as the tip of her nose began to warm back to a normal temperature.

"I'll give you a ride." He told her immediately, rubbing one of his hands up and down her spine as if he were trying to rub some warmth into her body.

She nodded against his neck before pulling back slightly in his arms. Her eyes flicked slowly over his face and she was pleasantly surprised when he tilted his head to press his lips against her cold mouth.

When he pulled back, she sighed happily as her eyes fluttered open again, "Lemme just go say goodbye to Lydia real quick."

Stiles agreed and jogged down the road to where he'd hidden his own vehicle when he and Scott had snuck onto the scene earlier.

She turned to the other side of the street and stepped around the side of the ambulance, her gaze locked on Sheriff Stilinski standing beside his patrol car. He waved her over and she followed his command easily, stepping past the ambulance and walking toward where Lydia was sitting in the open door of the police vehicle.

A paramedic was shining a small penlight into the redhead's eyes as he checked the dilation of her pupils, he apparently approved of whatever he saw because he tucked the light away and stepped back from the vehicle. The man nodded his head and said something quietly to the Sheriff as Amber stepped into space he'd vacated at the side of the car.

"Hey, Lyds." She said softly, squatting down in front of her friend, "You okay?"

Lydia huffed and pulled at the hem of her borrowed sweater, "You don't need to speak to me like I'm a child."

"Sorry." She apologized quickly, "I didn't mean to. I just.. I was really worried about you."

"I'm fine now." Lydia told her simply, still looking down at her own lap.

Amber reached up to tuck a strand of tangled strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, "You don't have to say that to try to appease me." She told her, "I want you to be okay, but if you're not, that's alright, y'know?"

Lydia sighed and locked her eyes with Amber's determinedly, "I'm fine."

She frowned but nodded, "Okay.. I just, I came over to tell you Stiles is driving me back to where I left my car down the road."

"Okay." Lydia shrugged, "You don't need my permission to run off with your boytoy."

"Gross. My boytoy?" Amber laughed quietly.

Lydia cracked a smile and rolled her eyes, "Yep."

Amber shook her head, "Okay, well.. D'you mind if I swing by to see you after school tomorrow?"

Lydia frowned in confusion, "I'll be at school tomorrow." She stated.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Amber questioned worriedly.

"What did I say about speaking to me like I'm a child?" Lydia huffed quietly in annoyance.

"I- Sorry, I just- That seems so soon after.. Everything."

"I am going to school tomorrow." Lydia repeated sternly.

"Alright." Amber sighed, rising to stand, "Then I'll see you tomorrow. Do- Do you maybe want a ride in the morning?"

Lydia pulled her lips back in thought, "Sure, that would be nice."

Amber nodded before leaning into the car to wrap her arms tightly around Lydia's shoulders, pressing her mouth against the mess of her hair in a soft kiss, "I'm so glad you're okay." She repeated softly one final time.

When she leaned back out of the doorway, her throat felt stupidly tight with affection and relief but she managed to give Lydia a pained smile anyway.

Lydia returned her smile softly when she saw the influx of emotion on her friend's face, "See you tomorrow."

Amber nodded, focusing intently on not sniffling before she spoke, "See you." She said quickly before turning to rush over toward Stiles.

When the Jeep pulled up along the road, Amber climbed into the passenger side quickly, immediately pulling her legs up to her chest inside of the heavy jacket she was wearing.

"I've literally never been this cold." She muttered as she reached to buckle her seat belt around her legs awkwardly.

"Yeah, that can happen if you're hiking through the woods naked when it's thirty-eight degrees outside." Stiles told her, glancing over at her worriedly as he drove down the road.

"Right, yeah. That makes sense." She laughed, bending to blow a puff of warm breath into the opening of the jacket around her chest.

"I- Is your brother home tonight?" He asked after a moment.

She looked across the dark car at him as her brows furrowed, "No.. Why?" She asked skeptically.

"I just- I don't really want to leave you alone." He admitted softly.

"I'm cold, Stiles. I'm not concussed." She laughed quietly. There were a few short seconds of silence before she continued, "I really wanna use my own shower, but if you- I mean, you don't need to try and convince me. If you wanna stay the night, you can."

Stiles let out what looked like a relieved breath and she laughed quietly again as he turned into the small dirt turnoff where her little yellow Pacer was parked.

"Did you think I wouldn't let you sleep over?" She questioned curiously.

He shrugged, "I mean- I don't know. Maybe."

She frowned, "We sleep over at each other's houses all the time."

"I didn't know if maybe it would be, I don't know- Different.. Now." He admitted quietly.

Her frown deepened, "I- D'you think it should?" She asked, "Should it be different now that we're-"

"No." Stiles said quickly, "I mean, I don't want it to be different. Well, I want it to be different, what with the kissing and- Y'know. But I don't want the other stuff to be different."

She sighed in relief, "Good. I- Same." She agreed, "Because, I mean, no matter what, you and Scott will always be my best friends in the world."

"Same." He repeated easily.

"Okay." She nodded, straightening her legs back out from beneath the jacket and unbuckling her seatbelt. "So, I'll meet you at my place then? D'you just need to run home to get your stuff?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Lacrosse practice at seven again." He reminded her, "But I shouldn't be long, maybe fifteen minutes."

"Okay, cool." She smiled, "I'll see you then."

She turned to reach for the door handle but Stiles leaned across the vehicle and turned her face back toward him gently with a hand on her cheek. She made a quiet noise of surprise but before she could really question his intentions, his mouth was pressed softly against hers.

He leaned back quickly and nodded his head toward the door behind her with a small smile, permitting her to leave now that he'd given her a kiss goodbye.

"See you." Stiles finally responded softly.

Her stomach erupted with butterflies and she bit down on a smile as she pulled on the door handle that was still under her hand.

When she climbed into the shower ten minutes later, Amber had to actively fight against the instinct to climb in underneath a spray of scalding hot water. Instead, she turned the water to a sad lukewarm temperature that still managed to feel blessedly warm when it ran over her frozen skin.

She cleaned her hair and body while the water slowly raised her body temperature and only after she'd scrubbed away any remnants of the forest and shaved her legs, did she finally let herself crank the temperature up.

The spray of water began to steam around her and the heat caused her body to erupt into pleasant goosebumps from the shock of it. She tipped her head back under the spray, letting the hot stream of water run down over her face as she blew out a relieved breath.

There was a sudden, loud knocking at the bathroom door and she flinched with a gasp, knocking her elbow painfully against the tiled shower wall as she heard Stiles' voice from the hallway.

"Hey, I'm here." He called out through the closed door.

She spit out a small bit of water that had gotten into her mouth and reached to shut off the water, "Okay, sorry! I'll be out in a minute!"

Stiles gave her his assent before presumably leaving to head toward the bedroom while she climbed out of the shower and pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and a short-cropped tshirt.

When she stepped into her bedroom, Stiles was already changed into sweats, laying on his stomach on the bed and doing homework. She moved to her own backpack to pull out her phone, her Algebra II notebook, and calculator before flopping down onto the mattress beside him.

"What're you working on?" She asked curiously, leaning close and peering over his shoulder to look at the page in front of him, instantly recognizing the Chemistry problems that she'd already finished in class that morning.

"Chem." He supplied distractedly as his pencil moved across the paper.

She flipped open her own notebook and finished up the math problems her AP class had been assigned, gnawing absentmindedly on her lower lip as she worked. It took her about thirty minutes to finish her assignment and she flipped her notebook closed once she was done, turning her head to look at Stiles and finding his gaze already focused on her.

A small smile pulled at her lips, "Wh-"

He leaned in and cut off her words with a kiss.

The way his lips pressed against hers was more firm and intentional than the last several quick kisses they'd shared. She found herself leaning in enthusiastically as his mouth moved against hers, her arms readjusting to support herself on the mattress as she chased his lips and pushed further into his space.

They were awkwardly meeting halfway while sprawled on their stomachs and Stiles moved up onto his knees without breaking the kiss, leaning over her until she rolled onto her back. He repositioned himself to kneel between her spread thighs and she dropped back onto the mattress beside her abandoned notebook.

As soon as they settled into the more comfortable position, she reached up to cup the side of his face, thumb rubbing along the smooth skin of his cheek. He tilted his head on the next open-mouthed kiss and his tongue slipped into the space between her lips to brush against hers smoothly.

Time moved in a blur. They kissed languidly for a long stint of time, tongues meeting sensually with each slow drag of their lips. Stiles hovered above her, his arms pressed into the mattress on either side of her with a palpable gap of space between their bodies.

She wanted to tug him down until he was pressed against her, but she worried that she wouldn't be able to make herself slow down once they'd made it that far. She felt painfully aware that the two of them had never even been on an official date and as much as she desperately wanted to go further with him, she wanted to do other things first.

There was a slight lightheadedness creeping into her brain from the length of time they'd been kissing without pause and she separated their mouths to pull in a much needed deep breath.

When she looked up at him, his eyes were fluttering open to meet hers and he leaned forward just enough to brush his nose tenderly against her own. Her thumb stroked over his cheek again and she looked between the warm brown pools of his eyes as she continued to catch her breath.

"We should probably go to sleep." She murmured quietly, the pull in her gut contrasting sharply with her words.

He nodded in response, his nose caressing hers again softly as he did so, "Okay."

"I don't want to," She told him honestly, "But we definitely should."

He nodded in agreement again and leaned down to press one more lingering kiss to her lips before rolling off of her all at once. She sat up on her elbows and watched him collect his books from the opposite side of the bed and stuff them into his backpack.

Her eyes caught on the unmistakable tent in the crotch of his sweatpants and she swallowed painfully, averting her eyes and collecting her own school supplies to put away.

Once she was finished, she pulled the blankets down the bed and crawled underneath, looking up at Stiles expectantly as she waited for him to climb in after her.

He moved across the room to flick off the light before he finally followed suit and slid under the blankets, settling onto his side on the mattress next to her.

She laid down beside him and situated herself in a position mirroring his own before scooting backwards to press her back against his front. He made a small noise of surprise and she let out a nervous breath.

"Sorry. Is this okay?" She asked quietly, "Like, cuddling or whatever?"

"Yeah," He said quickly, dropping his hand over her waist and tightening his arm to pull her back against him more firmly, "Yeah, cuddling's good."

She sighed in relief and tangled her fingers with his where they were resting over her stomach, her eyes drifting shut. A few minutes passed in silence and she was just on the brink of sleep when Stiles squirmed uncomfortably behind her. He let out a quiet huff of frustration and wiggled gently, readjusting his body while trying not to jostle her too much in the process.

"Stiles?" She asked sleepily, "You good?"

"Yeah." He froze in his movements, "Sorry."

She tipped her head back and tried to peer up at him in the dark, "Are you uncomfortable?" She asked obviously.

"No." He denied quickly, "Well, kind of- But it's not-"

She rolled over underneath his arm and propped herself up onto her elbow, squinting at him in the dark.

"How would you be comfortable laying?" She asked quietly after a moment.

"I'm not sure," He admitted, "I mean, I've never really-"

"No, that's not what I meant." She interrupted softly, "I mean, if we weren't touching at all, if you weren't worried about the snuggling part, what position would you be the most comfortable sleeping in? Right now?"

He was silent for a few seconds as he thought about her question, "Uh, maybe.. Maybe on my back?"

"So, lay on your back."

He shuffled around in the dark and flopped onto his back, holding himself stiffly in position.

She snorted, "Yeah you look very comfortable."

Stiles huffed in frustration, "Well, I don't- I don't know. I just, I don't know what to do with my arm if you're here. Do I- Does it go underneath you? Or, it'll fall asleep, right? And I can't imagine it would be comfortable for you-"

"Stiles. You're thinking about this way too hard, okay?" She laughed quietly, "Pretend I'm not here. Just move around until you're comfortable."

She heard him let out another quiet sigh and he shifted around again underneath the blankets, bending his arm at the elbow to reach one hand up underneath his pillow. He wiggled around for a few seconds before the movement ceased.

"Okay," He said determinedly, "I'm comfortable."

"Okay," She repeated softly, "I'm gonna lay down too, but if it's not comfortable anymore, just tell me."

"Okay." He promised quietly.

She grabbed her pillow and moved it into the small space under his armpit to position it over his bent elbow. She scooted down the mattress slightly and rested her head on the pillow over his arm, stretching her own arm across his stomach and rolling onto her side. Her leg came up to drape over his thighs and she burrowed her face into his shoulder as she tightened her limbs around him slightly.

When he remained silent for a short stretch of time, she looked up at the side of his jaw again in the dark.

"Is this okay?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." He admitted, turning his head to the side on his pillow and pressing his chin into the top of her hair, "Yeah, this is nice."

"Okay. Good." She laughed quietly and snuggled into his side, her thumb tracing along his ribs softly through his shirt, "Now, go to sleep."

"'Kay."

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with-paint · 7 months

Text

Bodies, Bites, and Bitches

Part 1 of ? of Poly Teen Wolf Rewrite Series

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader (platonic paring) Scott McCall x reader (platonic pairing)

Word Count: 8.7k

Summary: You and your best friends prepare for sophomore year only for corpses, animal bites, new abilities, and a chilling red head keep your gang from having a normal first day.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of a dead body, bi!stiles,

A/N: Stiles is the most bisexual character I’ve ever seen so he’s bi in this fic. Mhm. In regards to the pairings, at the moment they are all just friends. Tadaaaa. Here’s the ficcc. Also gif is actually mine 🤷. More notes at the end if you wanna read what I have to say. If not that’s chill.

The soft whirring of your washing machine rumbled through the basement, spilling into your room from the laundry room next door. You stretched your arms above your head, eyes tired.

You took a glance at the bottom corner of your laptop: 2 AM and lowered your arms with a groan. Why did you always do this to yourself? Every year, without fail, you pushed all your summer assignments to the last day. You had months to do them! But no, you just couldn’t. You had to write a paper about these drinks or something. Some history thing. Taking AP World History was a fucking mistake. You liked history, sure, but not enough to write a paper in the summer. It made you want to bash your brains out.

You just couldn’t make words come out of you.

You blew a breath of air out of your mouth and rubbed your eyes. This was not going great.

Your phone lit up, buzzing happily next to you, the sound resonating from your wooden desk. You snatched it up and couldn’t resist an eye roll upon seeing who was texting you.

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Mieczyslaw (2:02 AM): I WAS EAVESDROPPING AND SOME JOGGERS FOUND A BODY IN THE PRESERVE

Mieczyslaw (2:02 AM): MEET ME AT SCOTTS

Mieczyslaw (2:02 AM): WERE ALL GOING TO FIND IT

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Leave it to Stiles to bother you and Scott at two in the morning to try to find a dead human body. You glanced at your pathetic excuse of a paper and sighed.

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Y/N (2:03 AM): Be there in ten

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You hugged your brown hoodie to yourself as you trudged through the thick blanket of leaves surrounding Scott’s house. Cringing as they crunched loudly under you, you swore under your breath. You were going to kill Stiles.

You glanced back at the street in front of Scott’s house and didn’t see his blue Jeep yet. Good, more time to scheme Stiles’ gruesome death.

Maybe you could hit him with his car. Let his prized possession end him. You’re sure he would actually like that. Be rather touched by your consideration of his feelings.

You snorted to yourself and watched in amusement as the blue Jeep itself swerved to park behind your car. Stiles clambered out of the driver’s seat in a hurry. He slammed the door rather loudly for two in the morning and you cringed and stole a glance up at the house. Hoping to God it didn’t wake up Ms. McCall.

Stiles took a step towards you, but lurched backwards, his jacket pocket stuck in the door. You watched as he spun around to free himself, curses flying from him as he tugged on the handle. You raised an eyebrow and leaned back on the railing of Scott’s porch.

Idiot.

Why were you even friends with him?

He bounded up to you with a grin.

“Hi.” He breathed out, cheeks red from the cold and most likely his embarrassment.

Oh right. He was endearing. Ever since you three were small you had a soft spot for Stiles. He was always so earnest. Brushing off embarrassment, always having something funny to say, being the smartest person in the room. He was great to be around.

Except when he had stupid fucking ideas.

Like this one.

This was a stupid fucking idea.

You narrowed your eyes at him and punched his arm before he could say anything else.

“Ow!” He cried out, shying away from you as he gripped his bicep.

“Shhh!” You hissed, waving your hands in the space between you. His offended expression turned sheepish as he looked up at Ms. McCall’s window.

“Sorry.” Stiles said, laughing awkwardly. You rolled your eyes and moved to the beam on the right. Stiles’ eyes lit up as he rushed over.

“We should go knock on Scott’s window.” You said with a grin. Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet and nodded.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

You looked up at the roof hanging over you and then at the railing.

“Here, stand on the railing, climb up, and once you're up, lend me a hand.” You explained gesturing to the railing. Stiles nodded and did as you said. He was about to lean down to grab your hand when you both heard the door open. You looked at Stiles in fear, his expression mimicking that of a deer in headlights.

“Hide!” You whispered at him and quickly hopped over the rail into the big bush. You dropped to the ground and stayed in a crouch, trying to keep hidden.

You hoped to God it wasn’t Ms. McCall. You couldn’t stand the embarrassment. She already thought Scott had a crush on you, if she saw you outside her house at 2 AM, you’d never hear the end of it.

You heard the deck creak and from your vantage point, you saw a red hoodie creep closer. Scott McCall. You breathed out slowly and moved to stand, but of course the third of your trio was an idiot and ruined the calm of the night by falling.

Stiles fell from his spot on the roof, dangling upside down. His feet jammed under the trellis that Ms. McCall grew tomatoes on in the spring. You shrieked, jumping up, thinking he was about to fall on his face. Scott screamed, raising the bat, that he apparently had at the two of you. And lastly Stiles started yelling as the crooked jaw boy raised a baseball bat to his head. You three screamed for a couple seconds before realising there was no danger, and you were all being idiots.

“Stiles! Y/N! What the hell are you doing?!” Scott cried, lowering his bat, and staring slack jawed at the upside-down boy and then looking down at you with disbelief.

“You weren't answering your phone.” Stiles cried out gesturing to you like your presence there made him innocent. You stifled a smile and wiped at your forehead. These boys were going to age you.

“Why do you have a bat?” You asked, propping your elbow on the porch railing. You put your chin in your hand and batted your eyelashes up at Scott.

He reddened and let his hand fall behind his back, as if he could hide the fact, he almost used Stiles as a piñata.

“I thought you were a predator.” He mumbled to Stiles, spreading his arms wide. You grinned at his embarrassment.

“A pre— I— wha—,” Stiles flailed. You were kind of amazed he was hanging so well.

“Look. I know it's late, but you gotta hear this.” Stiles' arms stopped fighting gravity and hung straight down, nearly hitting you in the face. You glared up at him but decided to let him talk. You also wanted to know what the fuck was going on.

“I saw my dad leave 20 minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.” He looked down at you and grinned manically. You raised your eyebrows. Shit. You didn’t know dead bodies got that much interest.

They only would if the killer hadn’t been caught.

You froze and looked up at Stiles. He wasn’t expecting you three to waltz into the woods while a literal murderer was on the loose, was he?

You tried to stop your thoughts from racing. The body was probably old. Stiles had texted you that joggers had found it. No jogger would be out at two, it had to have been found earlier. It was probably fine. You chewed at your lip and looked back up at them.

“For what?” Scott asked.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles said, his breath visible in the late summer night. He used this dramatic ass reveal to finally get himself down. He unstuck his feet and fell into the bush beside you.

“Hi.” He said grinning at you as he stuck the landing. You smiled.

“Hi Stiles.”

“A dead body?” Scott cried looking down at the both of you. You snorted at this and rolled your eyes. Leave it to Scott to do a reality check.

“No, a body of water.” Stiles deadpanned looking at you in exasperation. “Yes, dumbass, a dead body.” He hissed looking back up at Scott. He climbed over the railing and stood on the porch next to Scott.

“Need help?” Stiles asked, looking at you. You shrugged and raised your hand. Scott grabbed your hand and hauled you up, probably eager to listen to the rest of the story. You picked some leaves off your shirt as you stood next to him.

“Were they murdered?” You asked, trying to see if your killer theory held water.

“Nobody knows yet.” Stiles said, putting his hands on his hips. “Just that it was a girl, probably in her 20s.”

“Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?” Scott asked annoyance on his face at how casually Stiles was speaking. You raised your eyebrows and looked at Stiles. That was a good fucking point you hadn’t thought about yet.

Stiles couldn’t contain his grin. “That's the best part.” He paused for effect looking between you and Scott. “They only found half.” He sang grinning fully now.

You and Scott shared a look of disbelief.

“We're going.” Stiles said with a smirk. You reached down and grabbed the bat in Scott’s arms.

Scott nodded absently as you gripped it tighter, seeming to agree you should be the one to have it.

“Well. Your car or mine?” You asked, twisting your grip on the bat. Stiles drummed on his thighs in excitement.

“That’s the spirit! Obviously, mine.” He said and joyfully cantered to his Jeep. You fell in with Scott as you walked over.

“You sure this is a good idea?” You whispered to him, trying to keep Stiles from overhearing.

Scott shrugged. “Nope.”

You threw your head back in a laugh despite the slowly worsening atmosphere. This was almost positively a horrible idea. You felt like the kids from that movie, Stand by Me. You read The Body by Stephan King last summer, but you could only remember the actor’s names and not the characters. Maybe you could be River Phoenix. You had such a big crush on him when you were younger. You eyed Stiles as he happily opened his car, he was Corey Feldman for sure.

Scott opened the back and got in before you even reached the car, knowing you got car sick and needed to have the passenger seat. You smiled to yourself as you slid in the familiar blue Jeep.

As much of a pain these boys caused you, you really did love them.

You sucked in a breath and turned to look at your friends.

“Let’s go find a dead body.”

---

Stiles pulled slowly up to the parking lot next to the Beacon Hills Preserve. The ominous ‘No Entry After Dark’ on the sign made you gulp. Might as well break that rule too.

Before Stiles could turn off the car you unbuckled your seatbelt and jumped out, Scott’s baseball bat gripped tightly in your hand. You personally didn’t want to be in the car when Stiles would start either a rant or a speech about something or another. He talked when he was nervous. You toed at some rocks on the ground for a few moments before Scott stepped out of the car too.

Stiles bounced over in a flash, standing with his back to the entrance and looking at both of you.

“Shall we?” He hummed and walked backwards a few steps, looking at Scott, then at you with a smirk. You stuck your tongue out at him and gripped the bat even tighter.

“Why don’t you lead the way?” You cooed making Stiles make a face at you. He spun around and started walking into the forest.

“After you.” Scott mumbled quietly. You didn’t feel like teasing him and just nodded, following the familiar buzz cut deeper in the woods.

---

“We're seriously doing this?” Scott asked as you three walked. You had been waking for maybe ten minutes. Stiles had pulled a flashlight from his pocket and wasn’t being subtle at shining it everywhere.

“You two are always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” Stiles called from in front of you. You scoffed and looked around the creepy forest, knowing there was a dead woman lying somewhere.

“Yeah well, I meant like a carnival or something. Not a half dead girl in the preserve.” You muttered kicking a stick.

“And I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott said from somewhere behind you. You smiled as Stiles looked over his shoulder to give you a look.

“Right, cause being a benchwarmer requires finesse.” You teased.

“No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.” You had to admit Scott’s determination and idiocy was rather charming.

“Hey, I like how you think, Scotty.” You said making your voice sweet. “Gotta believe it to be true. That whole manifesting idea.”

“Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” Stiles added, giving you a sly smile over his shoulder.

Scott laughed lightly at your teasing and you three walked for a few more moments. You twirled the bat lazily.

“Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?” Scott said, breaking the silence. You blinked in surprise; you didn’t think to ask that.

“Huh!” Stiles said, stopping in his tracks. You and Scott caught up to him and you two looked at him in disbelief. “I didn't even think about that.” He confessed sheepishly.

“Yikes.” You said. Scott snorted and looked around the dark woods suspiciously. “And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?”

Stiles nodded with an impressed look, “Also something I didn't think about.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You said with your eyes narrowed.

“It's…comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail.” Scott said with a shrug. You smiled at him and brushed some hair out of your face.

“I know.” Stiles said with a triumphant smile. Stiles gestured with his head towards a small hill and started to walk up it. You gripped some roots as you trudged upwards. You heard the gasps of air behind you and felt a pang of worry at Scott.

You slowed once you got to the top and watched as he fell into a sit against a tree, shaking his inhaler and taking a puff.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” He gasped out to Stiles who was continuing onwards.

You bit your lip but followed Stiles as he scrambled to lay on his stomach in the dry leaves. You hurried to lay next to him, and Scott fell in on your other side.

You three stared at a line of men walking with their own flashlights and dogs. You grimaced and hastily shoved Stiles’ flashlight into the leaves.

“Put that out! They’ll see it.” You hissed. He scrambled with it before clicking the off button. He hurried onto his feet and jogged away.

“Wait, come on!” He called in a whisper yell as he ran.

“Stiles!” Scott yelled, shaking his inhaler. You looked between them and moved to chase after Stiles. Scott had his inhaler; he could keep up.

“Wait up!” Scott yelled at you. You slowed down but kept following Stiles in his frenzy to go…wherever it was that Stiles was going.

“Stiles!” You yelled this time. You kept your eyes on the line of men moving your way. You rushed forward, following Stiles as he tried to find the end of their line and get to safety. You heard Scott trip behind you and him yell your name.

“Y/N!” You almost rammed into Stiles as he stopped to look back for Scott. You did the same and took a couple steps towards where you heard his voice last.

A dog barking, much louder this time, stopped you cold as you felt the warmth of a flashlight on you. Stiles fell to his back as the dog came closer and tried to attack him. You looked at the man holding him.

“Stop!” You yelled trying to keep your friend safe. Stiles kept scrambling back.

“Hold it right there! And you don’t move!” The cop yelled, keeping his flashlight on you and the dog on Stiles. You gulped and looked helplessly as the dog strained against the leash to try and get at Stiles.

“Hang on, hang on.” Someone yelled. You turned and nearly started swearing once you saw who it was.

Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles’ dad.

“This little delinquent belongs to me.” He said looking down at Stiles with disappointment. He looked up at you and sighed. “I know that one too.”

Stiles scrambled up and you gripped his sleeve. You gave him a once over to make sure he was alright, and you both turned to the Sherriff like you were children again and he caught you stealing cookies from Mrs. Stilinski’s cookie jar.

“Dad, how are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying to appear casual. You let his sleeve go and shook your head at him.

“So, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” Mr. Stilinski asked, lips tight in disappointment. Stiles flailed for an answer.

“No, heh. Not the boring ones.” He confessed with a grimace. Mr. Stilinski nodded softly and looked at you.

“I see you dragged Y/N down with you as usual.” He looked around at the trees then. “Where’s the third of your trio?”

You wanted to speak up, but decided this was between Stiles and his dad, talking would only make things worse.

“Who, Scott?” Stiles exclaimed with a fake laugh. “Sc - Scott's home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow.” He sighed and looked at you quickly in apology. You knew what he was about to say, and you were glad the Sheriff wasn’t looking at you. Your disgusted face would give away the lie.

“It's just us. In the woods. Alone. Romantic time?” Stiles said, making it sound completely unbelievable as his voice cracked on the last word. You pursed your lips as Mr. Stilinski looked at you and then raised his flashlight to look into the woods.

“Scott, you out there? Scott?” He yelled scanning through the trees for any sign of him. He seemed to be satisfied and looked back at you and Stiles with a sigh.

“Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car.” Mr. Stilinski stepped forward and grabbed Stiles by the back of the neck, hauling him forward. You followed, baseball bat dragging sadly in the mud.

“And you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy and how to treat someone on a date.” You covered your mouth with your hand to keep from laughing as you three walked back the way you had come.

Stiles kept saying ‘ow’ every two seconds, probably hoping to annoy his dad into letting his neck go, but no dice.

While Mr. Stilinski was distracted, you stole a lasting glance behind you, hoping Scott could see you. A skinny, asthmatic, sixteen-year-old, all alone in the woods with a plethora of police and half a dead body. What could go wrong? Would the police catch Scott? And if they didn't, how would he get home?

Beacon Hills wasn’t the biggest town, and you weren’t very far into the ever-expanding preserve. But Scott might have to take a roundabout way through the woods to get to the road. Being seen by the police wouldn’t be a good thing. Especially if Mr. Stilinski wasn’t there. They might think he was a killer or something.

That led you to another thought as you were walking back to Stiles’ car. Rain started to trickle down the canopy of leaves, leaving your hoodie damp and heavy.

The cop seemed so ready to catch someone. Was so ready to let his dog attack Stiles. His face when the Sheriff had told him off was somehow disappointed.

You crossed your arms and stepped into the parking lot next to Stiles’ Jeep.

They haven't found whoever killed the woman. So the killer really was out there. Maybe even out here in the woods.

Mr. Stilinski let his hand drop and he gently shoved Stiles closer to his car. You stepped in next to him and faced the Sheriff together.

He sighed and brought a hand to wipe some rain away from his eyes.

“Stiles. I know you have an interest in these things, but there is a dead woman in the woods. Her family is in mourning, the entire department is on the lookout trying to give them some peace. This is real life, not an interesting movie or tv show.” Stiles ducked his head in embarrassment. You kicked some pebbles.

“The woods at night is no place for teenagers. Especially when there is something dangerous going on. When I get calls about cases,” Mr. Stilinski made a pointed look at Stiles. “Do not follow me to them. For Pete's sake you could get hurt.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but you elbowed him as inconspicuously as you could. He shut up.

“And bringing Y/N here. I don’t believe you guys were on a date, but if you were, really?” It was his turn to give you a look. One that read disappointment. “Thought you had more sense than to go canoodling in the woods with Stiles.”

“Hey!” Stiles interjected as you grinned at the Sheriff.

“Yes sir.” You said trying not to laugh at the offended expression Stiles was making at you two. The Sheriff smiled and gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. Now get Y/N home. You two have school tomorrow.” And with that he gave you two one last look and headed back into the preserve.

“C’mon Mieczyslaw.” You said making Stiles groan as you got into his car.

“I’m so lucky you’re here. He would’ve talked my ear off about safety and privacy and being a sixteen-year-old.” Stiles huffed, grimacing. He turned the key into the ignition and you two pulled away from the woods and whatever was laying in it.

You leaned your head onto the window and closed your eyes. Stiles was silent for once as he started the drive to your house.

Your car wouldn’t be in the driveway. But as long as you left for school before your parents woke up it would be fine. Could have Stiles pick you up and give them a lie about wanting to ask your teacher a question.

You grimaced as you thought of it. Early on the first day of school? Your parents better not start having expectations from you.

Stiles drummed a pattern on the steering wheel with his thumbs and it was a comforting sound.

You couldn’t help but notice Mr. Stilinski avoided saying anything about what killed the woman. Just that the woods were dangerous. Maybe he meant that there was either an animal or a murderer on the loose. You didn’t know of any animal that could rip a person apart at the waist though.

Probably a person.

People were vicious.

“You think it was an anim-”

“No.” You said cutting Stiles off. He looked over at you and stuck his tongue out. At least you were in agreement it was a person not an animal attack.

“Should’ve left you in the woods. Scott wouldn’t treat me this way.” He sniffed as he pulled into your driveway. You smirked and unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Mhm. Pick me up at 6 so my parents don’t see my car is missing.” Stiles groaned and leaned his head down on the steering wheel. You laughed and ran a hand over his buzzed hair. He swatted at your hand as you laughed some more. You got out of his Jeep and glared at the sky as rain pummeled you.

“Bye Stiles.” You called as you walked up to your door. You turned to see him mocking you by mouthing the words with a miserable expression. You smiled as he drove away.

Scott was dead for sure.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Yep.

Dead.

You and Stiles were also the worst friends in the history of friends.

You pushed open your front door and looked around suspiciously for your parents. Thankfully they were asleep, and you trudged downstairs to your room.

You glanced at your open laptop and groaned; eyes squeezed shut in pain.

The fuckin essay.

---

You groaned and hit the off button on your alarm clock. 5:40 AM flashed at you in angry red lighting.

Fuckin joy.

You were going to kill Stiles again for this.

Every plan he had; made you suffer. You smiled to yourself as you rolled out of bed. You could probably blame everything on Stiles if you thought hard enough.

You stumbled into your bathroom.

Your broken finger in 4th grade was from a volleyball being thrown at you and it bending the wrong way. Who was next to you and could probably have gotten the ball? Stiles. You brushed your teeth as you cussed out baby Stiles in your mind.

You got caught cheating on your 8th grade science test. Who was the idiot who couldn’t move his paper a little closer to you, so it didn’t look suspicious? Stiles.

You changed your clothes quickly and quietly made your way upstairs.

Everything was obviously Stiles’ fault. You and Scott were just poor accomplices.

You were suddenly filled with memories of when you and Scott had shoved Stiles onto the ice-skating rink one year which resulted in him breaking an arm. Guilt swarmed in your mind and you sighed it away.

You grabbed your backpack and shrugged. Obviously, Stiles’ fault for not knowing how to skate.

You tumbled outside and were relieved to see the Jeep sitting in your driveway. You hated waiting in the cold. You shoved your backpack at your feet and climbed into the car.

“Morning.” You said with a yawn. Stiles covered his mouth as he yawned in response.

“I really hate you.” He said and pulled out to drive to the school.

You nodded.

That was fair.

“You get Scott’s text last night?” Stiles asked, turning onto the main road. You straightened your shirt and shook your head, looking over at him.

He was wearing a blue shirt with a target on it, a gray hoodie, and a blazer of all things on top of it. He looked kind of stupid, but somehow kind of cool?

Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. It matched him. It was a thrown together outfit that somehow coordinated to match his personality. Random pieces that shouldn’t fit together but do. Like the things he said never seemed to correlate, but they still made you and Scott laugh because of how true they were.

Stiles pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the school, as a sophomore, your class wasn’t prioritized for parking spots. He dug out his phone and handed it to you.

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

Scott (3:43 AM): I just got bit by some animal or something. I’m at home by the way

Stiles (3:43 AM): Shit how bad is it? You text Y/N?

Scott (3:43 AM): I texted, but she didn’t answer

Stiles (3:44 AM): I’m sorry man. You should get some sleep and like patch it up or something

Scott (3:45 AM): I’m goin to bed but I got a huge gauze on the bite 😬

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

You turned to Stiles a little sheepishly. You had chucked your phone on your bed and cranked out your stupid essay until around 4 AM.

You didn’t want any more texts from either of your idiot friends. In retrospect that was really stupid as Scott could’ve tried texting you for help or something. But you were glad he was okay and got home.

You raised your eyebrow and handed him back his phone.

“A bite, hm?”

“Yeah, I know.” He said, turning to grab his backpack from the back seat. You jerked out of the way when his lacrosse stick almost whacked you in the face.

“He could’ve gotten mauled or something. We’re grounded from hanging with Scott for at least a week.” You said making Stiles whip around and shove you lightly into your door.

“We’re grounded?!” He exclaimed jaw dropping, but you noticed the corners of his mouth were tilting upwards in a smile.

“Yeah, grounded!” You replied, laughing and threw your door open. He laughed and followed you outside.

“What, did your parents implement this?” Stiles mused nudging you. You made a face as you both started walking towards the entrance.

“It’s me. Don’t want Scott to get dragged into more danger for at least a week.” You said crossing your arms. Stiles groaned.

“Then we can’t go to the stupid restaurant you love.” Stiles said, gesturing wildly. It was your turn for your jaw to drop and you spun around to walk backwards, wanting to face Stiles instead of glance at him sideways.

“Okay first off, Kelly’s isn’t stupid. Not my fault you and Scott decided to order the spicy chili fries. It says ‘spicy’ on it. You two should’ve known it would kill your stomach and give you diarrhe-” Stiles cut you off by rushing forward and covering your mouth with his palm. You glared at him and licked his hand making him jerk away in disgust.

“Don’t need to be yelling that for the whole school to hear.” Stiles said with an awkward laugh, wiping his hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes but let him do it.

“Oh, look there’s Scotty!” You yelled suddenly, spotting your friend by the plants in front of the entrance. You widened your eyes at Stiles playfully and ran over, leaving him to chase after you.

“Alright let’s see the damage.” You said bounding over to Scott. He sighed and lifted his shirt without another word.

“Ooh!” Stiles cringed out as he came to stand next to you, looking at the large white bandage on Scott’s otherwise golden skin.

“Yeah.” Scott said flatly.

Stiles and you made to touch it and Scott jerked back with a Whoa!

“It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf.” He said, narrowing his eyes at you two.

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles asked, looking at you. You furrowed your eyebrows. At least he wasn’t knifed by whoever killed the woman. Animal attack wasn’t so bad, even if it could never be a wolf.

“Uh huh.” Scott said.

You furrowed your eyebrows and shared a look with Stiles. “No. Wasn’t a wolf”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

“No, you didn't.” Stiles said, crossing his arms. Scott floundered and looked at you in disbelief.

“What do you mean, no, I didn't? How do you know what I heard?” Scott asked annoyance bleeding into his voice.

“California doesn't have wolves. There was this whole eradication thing ages ago. Did you not listen in middle school history, you nerd?” You asked tilting your head to look at Scott. Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Really?” Scott asked in disbelief.

“Yes, really.” Stiles said with a small laugh. “There are no wolves in California.”

You leaned your head on Scott’s shoulder then. Your forehead pressing onto him. He absentmindedly patted your head.

“All right, well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me when I tell you I found the body.” Scott said triumphantly. You sighed and pushed off Scott as Stiles grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking him a little.

“You— are you kidding me?”

“No, guys, I wish. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month.” Scott said with a shudder. You frowned and patted his arm sympathetically.

“Oh, God, that is freakin' awesome. I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since,” Stiles looked around to think of something better than dead bodies and grinned, eyes catching something. “—Since the birth of Lydia Martin.”

The girl in question walked by, strawberry curls bouncing as she smiled with her friends. “Hey, Lydia— You look— Like you're gonna ignore me.” Stiles said with a grin fading. Scott snickered and you tried to hide your smile at Stiles making an ass out of himself. You grabbed your water from your backpack.

“Stiles you get obsessed way too easily.” You said taking a sip of the water. He spun around, arms almost whacking into Scott as he looked at you.

“I do not! It’s just Lydia Martin.” You gave him an unimpressed look and took another sip.

“Remember Luke Freeman in fifth grade?” You said talking around your straw. Scott snorted into his hand at Stiles’ face. You started ticking names off your fingers.

“Or Jake Amin? Or Olivia Diaz? Or-”

Stiles cut you off by slapping your water bottle out of your hand. You watched it spill onto the ground, it lands on its side, water pooling from it.

You looked up at Stiles with eyes narrowed, annoyed. Scott bent down with a wince and handed it back to you.

“Okay! Let’s talk about something other than all the people I’ve had desperate crushes on. Don’t need to dwell on that right now.” Stiles exclaimed, putting a hand on your shoulder, and shoving you towards the school entrance. You made eye contact with Scott and cackled as you were shoved.

“Scott, you're the cause of this, you know.” Stiles grumbled, hiking up his backpack.

“Uh huh.”

“Draggin' me down to your nerd depths.” Stiles continued as you three stepped into the building. “Me and Y/N are nerds by association. We’ve been scarlet - nerded by you.”

You shook your head at Stiles with a smile on your face.

“Oh hey, I’ll stay for your practice and maybe you drive me and Scott over to his house? I need my car.” You asked moving to walk towards your locker. Stiles nodded, eyes darting around the hallway. You and Scott exchanged unamused looks as Stiles’ eyes settled on Lydia Martin.

He was a mess.

“We’ll see you later Y/N.” Scott said, dragging Stiles towards their class. You smiled and turned the other direction to head towards your history class. It was always annoying when they had a class together and you didn’t. But you had two classes with Scott and two with Stiles, so it made up for it. One of the classes had them both in it. You were looking forward to that one: Chemistry. It was going to be a shit show for sure.

You dropped your bag down next to a desk in the back and crossed your arms on the table and nestled into them. Maybe you could sleep through the misery and maybe your teacher would forget to ask for everyone to turn in their essays.

“Alright class, put your summer essays into the basket over there.” Your older teacher said breezing into the room once the bell rang.

Or not.

You handed your paper to an acquaintance with a puppy dog look, and he rolled his eyes and walked over to the basket for you.

“You’re pathetic Y/N.” Danny Mahealani said sitting back down in front of you. You stuck your tongue out at him and rested your head back into your arms.

---

The bell rang and you sat up in a jolt. No one seemed to notice that you had fallen asleep, and you grabbed your bag and followed Danny out with a sheepish smile directed towards your teacher.

“Pathetiiic.” Danny called as you headed to Scott’s locker. You flipped him off over your shoulder and smiled at Scott in greeting. You furrowed your eyebrows when you saw he was staring off across the hall. You turned to see what he was looking at. If he was going to stare so openly then you might as well.

A tall pretty girl with pale skin and a long blue scarf was talking to Lydia Martin. You blinked in surprise and turned to look back at Scott.

Someone was smitten and it was only 9:00 in the morning. Stiles looked longingly at Lydia, and you rolled your eyes.

Make that two people smitten.

You clapped loudly and they both blinked in surprise to see you standing there.

“Who’s she?” You asked, nodding behind you.

Cierra, a girl you used to be partners with in science last year, pulled up next to Stiles. “She's in our English class. She’s new. Her name is Allison Argent.”

You nodded at her, impressed. Stiles and Scott were idiots, they were too busy drooling to give you the juicy information.

You settled in between Scott and Stiles and leaned against the lockers.

“Can someone tell me how she’s here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?” Cierra asked, making you snort at Stiles' face. He looked both envious and way too knowledgeable on the workings of Lydia Martin. You crossed your arms, knowing he was about to say something either stupid or true.

“Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together.”

You weren’t disappointed. Stupid, yet true.

“Nuh uh there’s gotta be a reason.” Cierra said with furrowed brows.

“Name one person in their group that isn’t hot. Just one. Name one.” Stiles said getting surprisingly worked up about this. You thought for a moment and snapped your fingers.

“Danny isn’t the best looking.” You mainly said this because of him razzing you earlier. He was fine. Liking someone based on looks was stupid anyway.

“That’s cause you aren’t a gay guy.” Stiles said, waving his hand at you in dismissal. You laughed and shifted to look at Scott. He was still staring at Allison and Lydia. You looked over. Also, Jackson Whittemore was there now. Yikes.

You never understood what Lydia saw in him, but then again, she seemed rather shallow.

But you didn’t really know either of them. Maybe Jackson was a nice guy? You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you thought that. Yeah, no. He was a total dick.

The warning bell rang, and you sighed. You grabbed Scott’s sleeve and tugged him away from his creepy staring.

“C’mon we got chemistry.” You said and pulled Stiles along for good measure. Cierra gave you a look that said, ‘why do you talk to these idiots?’ And rushed away to her next class.

“Yo! Lay off the merchandise.” Stiles huffed pulling away from you. You rolled your eyes and shoved him into the Chemistry classroom.

Why did you hang out with them?

---

School passed quickly with every class containing talks about the syllabus and talk about the body. At lunch Scott announced their English teacher had said a person was in custody. You nearly threw your sandwich at Stiles when he didn’t know who it was. He was supposed to be good at keeping tabs on criminal activity in Beacon Hills. He was an honest disappointment.

The last bell rang, and you stumbled out of your ceramics class that you had to share with Lydia and Allison.

You eyed them as you walked behind them to the lacrosse field.

Where to begin with Lydia Martin.

Stiles had a crush on her since the third grade. Well, he had a crush on a lot of people since then, but she was always the constant one. She was very beautiful, in a sophisticated way. You didn’t know what the Martin’s did, but it had to be something with a lot of money. That, or Lydia was amazing at buying knock off designer brands. If that was the case, then she went up several rungs on her likability ladder.

Other than her clear sense of high-end fashion, there wasn’t much you knew about her. She had a lot of friends and was dating Jackson Whittemore who was the captain of the lacrosse team. But that was it? As long as Stiles had been trailing after her you never really saw a glimpse into her personality. Sure, you could make deductions based on what you say; entitled, rude, cunning, but you didn’t actually know her.

You thought her entitled and rude because of how dismissive she acted towards Stiles. Then again if you were a hot popular girl and a gangly nerdy boy wouldn’t stop hitting on you, then yeah you would be dismissive too. Hell, if anyone wouldn’t stop hitting on you for years you would be uncomfortable.

You bit you lip and decided fuck it.

“Hey, you’re Allison, right? The new girl?” You asked, stepping in line with the two other girls. Lydia blinked in surprise at you so clearly disregarding her authority. Allison turned to smile at you.

“Yeah I am.” She said warmly.

You stuck out your hand as you three stepped outside to walk towards the lacrosse field.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You said and she shook your hand with a laugh. Lydia eyed you carefully but didn’t say anything.

“Are you staying to watch the practice?” Allison asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. You nodded with a sort of grimace on your face. She laughed and exchanged a look with Lydia.

“What’s that face for?” Allison exclaimed.

“I left my car at my friend's house and after practice we’re going to go get it. I love my friends, but watching practice is so boring.” You rambled. Allison nodded and Lydia narrowed her eyes slightly.

“You’re Stiles Stilinski’s girlfriend.” Lydia stated with a blank look.

You tripped over your shoe and almost face planted if it weren’t for Allison grabbing you with fast reflexives. You blinked in shock and stared at Lydia.

“You know his name?!” You sputtered before realizing what she just said and shaking your head quickly. “Never mind. No, we're not dating. Ew!” You exclaimed. You weren’t usually this caught off guard. Out of the three of you, you were always the levelheaded calm one.

Lydia pursed her lips and looked ahead at the field. Allison looked between you both with furrowed eyebrows.

You always had people thinking you were dating either Scott or Stiles. It was something you were accustomed to denying. But to hear it out of Lydia Martins mouth threw you through a loop. You spotted Scott and Stiles walking from the locker rooms.

“I’m going to sit over here. Was nice talking to you Allison.” You said wanting to get the actual fuck away from Lydia. You didn’t think she knew anyone outside of her circle of popular hot people. Allison nodded with a smile and Lydia just crossed her arms, looking bored.

She was a lot more perceptive than you gave her credit for. Not only did she know Stiles’ name, but she knew you were close friends. That was very interesting.

You peeled away from the other girls and walked towards the right side of the bleachers. You dropped your bag onto the bottom row. It was placed directly behind the bench, and you usually spent practices talking with Stiles and Scott. It wasn’t often that you went to the lacrosse practices though. They were, like you said, boring and it just felt awkward. Like you were expected to be a cheerleader and not just throw pebbles and watch them tink off your boy’s safety pads.

You sighed and settled onto the metal bench, waiting for your friends to catch up to you. You had a lot to say to Stiles.

You heard the metal thunk of footsteps on the small bleachers behind you. No doubt Lydia and Allison moving to the top row. That’s where Lydia usually sat whenever you had the displeasure of sitting at practices.

“-My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” You heard the tail end of Scott and Stiles conversation, and Scott dropped his bag next to the bench. Stiles sat down on the bench with a huff. Scott didn’t sit down though. You looked up to see him staring at someone, almost frozen.

You looked over your shoulder and nearly rolled your eyes.

Of course. You forgot he was smitten with Allison.

“McCall!” Coach Finstock yelled, breaking your friend's trance. Scott spun around to look at him.

You leaned forward and rested your chin on Stiles’ shoulder. He glanced back at you and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair.

You were about to bring up the fact that Stiles’ crush since childhood thought you and him were dating when a loud whistle blew across the field. You glanced up to see who Coach Finstock was whistling at and furrowed your eyebrows when you saw he was glaring at you.

“Y/L/N! What have I told you about distracting my players? Move up the bleachers!” He yelled pointing to the top row. You jerked away from Stiles quickly.

Way to embarrass you in front of the team like that Coach. You gave him a half ass wave and he turned back to yelling at Scott. Scott looked over and gave you a shrug.

You sat awkwardly near Lydia and refused to look at her. You looked down at the field and raised your eyebrows when Coach lightly hit Scott in the face.

Fuckin Coach.

Coach Bobby Finstock was kind of a menace. But he also reminded you of Stiles.

You shifted in your seat as Scott stood at goal.

“Who is that?” Allison asked and you glanced over and followed her eyeline. She was looking at Scott. You tried not to snort as you rested your chin in your palm, elbow propped on your knee. This was new. Someone was trying to get with Scott. You casually leaned closer to the girls to hear their conversation better.

“Him?” Lydia asked. “I'm not sure who he is. Why?”

Now that was even more interesting. She knew Stiles and you but didn’t know Scott. That or she was lying. Or even more fun she didn’t want her new best friend getting involved with a “lesser then” like Scott. Not that he was anything less than a babe, but he was no Jackson Whittemore.

“He's in my English class.” Allison said with a shake of her head.

A whistle blew signaling to the team to start making attempts at the goal. You looked down at the field and almost shot up in your seat. Scott was grabbing his head like he was in pain. You looked down at Stiles, but he wasn’t turned to you. Coach didn’t look concerned. You glanced around. No one did.

It was times like this that your friends tested your coddling skills. You never said it out loud, but every time Scott played, whether it be in practice or at games, you were extremely worried for him.

You had taken to bringing extra water whenever he was playing. Having water to drink made him breathe a little easier and you were worried for him. You knew he loved lacrosse, but if it were up to you, he wouldn’t be playing at all. You were as reckless as both he and Stiles, but you had no problems going all mother hen whenever they did something to endanger themselves.

Someone in the line took this moment to launch a ball at Scott. He was still clutching his head in pain, and it hit him square in the face. His helmet kept his nose from being broken, but the force of the impact made him fall backwards in goal.

The team along with Coach started laughing and you glared harshly down at them.

You hated almost everyone on the lacrosse team.

Scott got back up and you cocked your head to the side. He looked focused, calm, ready.

Another player made an attempt at goal, but Scott caught it easily. You grinned and clapped a few times. You heard Stiles yelling encouragement.

Another player threw their ball and Scott caught it with a slight shift in his stance.

Goal after goal he caught them all.

“He seems like he's pretty good.” You heard Allison say. You grinned over at her. You didn’t know how this was happening, but he was on fire.

“Oh, very good.” Lydia mused and you didn’t like that tone at all. You glanced over at her. She better not get any ideas.

On the field, Jackson Whittemore cut to the front of the line and in a series of runs and jumps, he made the most extra shot on goal. You raised your eyebrows and watched with increasing nerves as Scott braced to catch it.

He lunged to the side and caught it easily.

You whooped, getting to your feet and start clapping loudly. On the bench Stiles bursts up with a happy yell. Lydia Martin also gets to her feet while clapping. You didn’t know if you should bring that up to Scott and Stiles later.

“That is my friend!” Stiles yells and you laugh along with his joy.

You notice Lydia looking down at Jackson with a look that says, ‘display of power makes me go brrrr’. You were probably exaggerating, but still. Lydia wasn’t cheering for her boyfriend; she was cheering for his embarrassment. You shook off your thoughts of Lydia and her further confusing mannerisms and cheered for your friend.

Scott threw the ball at the assistant coach, and you laugh happily. He was getting cocky. That was fun.

The rest of practice was a blur as Coach yanked Scott out of goal and made him run drills against Jackson. Stiles even left the bench a few times to participate. Jackson and Scott succeeded every single time. Stiles, not so much.

It was close to 5 PM when Coach called the practice to a close.

You stood up, stretching the uncomfortable metal bleachers off your bones. You made eye contact with Scott as he jogged to the locker room, and you smiled at him coyly. He rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

Lydia stood up along with Alison and you couldn’t help but notice both of them were also watching Scott make his exit.

Part of you wanted to be annoyed. Not at Allison, but at Lydia and even Stiles. Lydia only cared about Scott once she saw his ‘worth’ as a player. You thought that you understood parts of her, but this behavior made her seem even more shallow. Then there is the matter of Stiles liking her for no reason other than her looks. He’s just as shallow. You couldn’t be upset at her and then turn around and be okay with him.

Why the hell were you thinking so hard over Lydia Martin? You usually barely even considered her, and this is three times today when you dedicated time to try and understand her.

You shook your head to try and force your brain to stop being weird and you trotted down the metal bleachers. Enjoying how fast you could go down them if you stepped on the seats instead of the stairs.

“See you later!” Allison called as she followed Lydia to the parking lot. Lydia gave you a glance and nodded slightly.

What the fuck is with today and Lydia?

You sunk down on the grass and waited for Scott and Stiles to appear from the locker room.

You ripped up grass as you waited and soon enough a shadow was standing over you. You glanced up and Scott was standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

“What the fuck McCall!?” You shouted, standing then jumping at him. He grinned sheepishly and caught you to both of your surprise. Stiles jogged up and wasted no time getting in on the celebration.

Scott released you and you grabbed his shoulders to shake them.

“My best friend is a fucking legend!” You yelled laughing. Stiles ruffled Scott’s hair and brought both of you into a group hug, whooping as he did so.

The adrenaline of watching Scott came flooding back to you as you jumped around with your best friends in the whole world. This school year was your year. Your time. Finally, something was going right.

So I was watching the first episode of Teen Wolf and I thought you know what would be fun? A rewrite. I know I’m not the first person to do this, @bilesbilinskix and @24stiles920 are the two that I’ve seen on tumblr. I looked for other rewrites after I had the idea and it would feel weird to not acknowledge the years of work they’ve done for this. So if you’re interested in reading a completed/farther along version of a rewrite go check both of them out.

This rewrite is going to be Stiles Stilinski x reader. I’m toying with the idea of making it Stiles x reader x Derek, but I haven’t decided yet. So for now it’s a slow burn that ends with just Stiles.

This fic is going to be very long. This first chapter is 8.7k words which is astonishing because compared to other episodes nothing much happens this episode and its only half. I’d also like to preface that the reader is the main character. So there are going to be many, many scenes that aren’t included in the show. It’s a rewrite with a new main character so if you’re wondering why it matters about readers' history essay that’s why. They’re the main character.

Also this rewrite is going to be rated mature and might teeter towards explicit. The show is rated PG-13, but I’m going to say teenagers aren’t usually suitable for a 13 year old audience.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this series and come to love it as much as I do. This is going to have the worlds slowest updates so like if you wanna check back in a year that is honestly for the best. I wrote this two years ago and I'm tired of waiting I'm just going to post it. :)

#Teen Wolf #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles #Scott McCall #wolf moon #teen Wolf pilot #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles x reader x Derek #poly teen wolf #poly triad #Poly Teen Wolf Rewrite #PTWRW

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omi-lili · 5 months

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I'M GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT! ALL I WANT IS A TEEN WOLF REWRITE (And/Or Story) WHERE THE READER DOESN'T END UP WITH STILES! DOESN'T END UP WITH DEREK! THERE ARE OTHER FUCKING CHARACTERS ON THE SHOW! DID WE NOT WATCH THE SAME SHOW PEOPLE! MY GOD!!

#teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #lydia martin #allison argent #stiles stilinksi x reader #derek hale x reader

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obriengf · 2 years

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Empatheia ✽ Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: A boy gets bitten under the glow of a near-full moon, while a girl feels things she has never felt before. Words: 10.3k Warnings: mentions of death, dead body, swearing ✽ Series masterlist ✽

Chapter One: 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 /Part 1

Sophomore Year was going to be your year. You promised yourself over the summer break that you’d try to make something of yourself – branch out, meet new people and try new things. Become the person that you desired to be with oozing confidence and the capability to be seen as greater than you currently were. Not that you didn’t like the individual that you were growing into; but it comes to a time where you just simply, and utterly, want more. And you were going to get more, no matter what it took.

You were perched snugly on the edge of your bed; your school bag sitting near your door, already packed and prepared, with an outfit hanging neatly beside it. It was quiet as the sun had already set and darkness had begun to roll in – the only sounds you could hear being the gently hum of your ceiling light as a chorus of soft crickets sung from somewhere beyond your bedroom window. Lazy eyes flickered around your room as they took in the happy faces captured perfectly in an array of photographs, followed by the peeling of old wallpaper that was in desperate need of replacing. You took notice of the near full clothes hamper that you needed to eventually empty and wash, before your gaze settled on the shadowed movement of a clumsy figure hidden behind closed navy curtains. You assumed your neighbour was preparing for the big day ahead as well, but then again, you could never put your finger on what that silly boy was really thinking.

It was getting late and your Aunt had already wished you luck for the following day before slumber overtook her nearly an hour ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. You laid with hands clasped over your stomach, eyes wide as they stared into the darkened abyss of your ceiling. You attempted for the fifth time to close your eyes, but it was then that you head a familiar engine spluttering - gears loud as they wore metal against metal, a vehicle practically screaming for a tune-up as it backed down the driveway. Your eyes rolled back in annoyance. That damn jeep, you thought. With a loud huff, you rolled onto your side, your blanket pulled up under your chin with all intentions to finally just sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there before an awful clenching sensation started in your chest. It was as if something sharp has ripped through your skin as grasped at your heart, squeezing. Your body began to slowly shudder – a feeling of despair churning your gut, heaviness dragging at your shoulders, and pressure grasping at your neck to mimic complete breathlessness. You slid to the floor, landing awkwardly in a heap of messed limbs. You tried to stand but your legs fell out from under you, voiceless screams unable to break past your lips when you began to feel phantom pain from your torso. If anything, it felt as if your body was being torn in two. The next thing you remembered was reaching out for your phone, before you slipped, your head banging against the edge of your nightstand, and it all went black.

It was a strange feeling when your eyes fluttered open, greeting you with darkened woodland surroundings as your legs carried you quietly through the outdoor space. The first thing you did was curse at yourself – you wore bare feet and a simple tank with your long pyjama bottoms, the hem dragging through the moistened dirt. The first thing to come to mind was that you were sleepwalking, an act that you haven’t taken part of since your mother died. But usually, you didn’t wake up in the middle of it, and you never… not once… found yourself wandering through what you perceived as Beacon Hills Preserve. Instinctively, arms wrapped around your body, shielding you from the sudden cool air that wafted between the trees and over the dampened ground. With a shiver, you proceeded forward, not sure which direction you even came from, until you began to feel tears glass over your eyes. You weren’t sad, but you could sense the sadness in the air, the heartbreak, the betrayal. It hung from you as if you were on the receiving end of something very, very bad. The need to scream in pain gathered on the tip of your tongue, but was hastily interrupted, as if whatever line you were joined to has been cut. You suddenly jumped, nearly missing the mumbled words of two nearby travellers if it hadn’t been for the sudden beam of light pausing on your form, a flashlight held over your direction, belonging to a confused pair of faces.

You blinked, quick to reach up and wipe at the moisture that gathered under your lash line until they got closer, and you easily recognised the boys when they were finally close enough to see.

“Y/N?” One of them said in disbelief, his inhaler clasped tightly between his fingers as knuckles began to shine white from the tension. Scott McCall. He was always the sweet, shy boy growing up, yet you weren’t surprised to see that he had been dragged into yet another mischievous adventure by his overly energetic best friend, and your neighbour, Stiles Stilinski.

You looked to him next, his widened honey eyes glowing as the flashlight sat just under his face. His head was tilted, confusion etching at every facial feature in much the same way as Scott. And you were sure, that if you were looking at yourself, you too were perplexed by what the two boys were doing in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night.

Stiles blinked excessively, “What – what are you doing out here? Are you – god, you must be freezing.” His loudened voice hissed, not even stopping to think as he shed his hooded jacket, the material draping over your much smaller frame. It was instant warmth, and you didn’t realise how cold you must have been until you were encased with heat. A gentle sigh left your lips and you cuddled into the softened material, a quiet ‘thank you’ directed toward him.

You shuffled on your exposed feet, reality catching back up to you as you peered around what you could see, the rays of moonlight only showcasing certain parts of the forest. You were scared about what led you here, but more so curious about what the two peculiar boys across from you had planned.

“Wait, why are you guys out here?” You started, eyes squinting as your gaze flickered between them both. Your brow raised as you refocused on the light clutched in Stiles’ hand, “Are you looking for something?”

“No-“ Stiles began, his voice immediately overtaken by a very rushed, and nervous Scott.

“-We’re looking for a dead body.”

You thought you heard Stiles mutter a curse under his breath, embarrassment momentarily flashing across his eyes until his energy got the better of him, and he was suddenly bouncing back on his feet. “Yes, okay, we’re looking for a dead body… well, half a dead body.” His shoulders lifted into a shrug, Scott already shaking his head, and you could have sworn you felt his anxiety drift toward you.

“Okay… didn’t realise you two were into necrophilism. I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Your hand shot up in a mock salute, pushing between the two as you moved forward, hoping that the direction they came from would lead to Stiles’ jeep, and therefore, the road home. You huddled in on yourself, also hoping that you could dodge any further questions about why you were there – questions that you yet had the answer to.

Scott reached over to whack his friend’s arm, a hushed ‘I told you so this was stupid’ spitting into the wind and all that the taller boy could do was roll his eyes. It was a silent, shared decision as they jogged back up to your retreating form, a boy standing either side of you. Oddly protective.

“Why did you say you were out here again? By yourself? Dressed like that?” Stiles questioned, the sound of Scott breathing in his inhaler taking over the left side of your hearing.

It was your turn to shrug, “I didn’t say.” But they didn’t take that as an answer, their bodies speeding up until they were in front of you once more. You all stood at the top of a mound, high enough for softened moonbeams to just reach your faces. Even in the night, you could see their sceptic risen eyebrows and disbelief clouding their eyes. It was no secret that Stiles was inquisitive, but to have Scott also peer to you in doubt, was incredibly unsettling. You sighed, exhaustion beginning to pull at you, “The truth is, I don’t know-“

More flashes of light suddenly sparkled to your left, a line of men in uniform peeking through the littered trees with canine companions hot on their hells.

“Shit.” Stiles cursed in a whisper, his hand jerking you down as yours tugged at Scott. It was more evident now that it was the collection of Beacon hills police, most likely looking for the same thing Stiles and Scott were out here for. All the pieces suddenly began to fall together. You were about to question it before his hand wrapped back around your arm, his inability to stay still now dragging you both forward. “Come on!”

He was swift, and you were shocked, your bodies bounding ahead without realizing that you were a man short. Scott leant his hand against a tree, his inhaler once again between his lips before calling, “Stiles… Y/N, wait!”

You couldn’t hear him, but that anxious feeling returned, growing stronger the further you were pulled away. It made you think of Scott, so you looked over your shoulder to see his figure getting smaller, curiosity clawing at your brain about how you knew he wasn’t there beside you. Nothing was making sense, but you didn’t have time to consider any possibilities as a large bark broke your concentration, forcing you to jump back a step as Stiles’ arm reached out in front of you.

Lights were shining in your eyes, your hands held in the air in surrender as Stiles also lifted his spare hand, his left arm not yet dropping from in front of your torso. A gruff voice spoke as the growling animal was pulled back, and you couldn’t help but drop your shoulders in relief at the familiar man now standing before you.

“This little delinquent belongs to me.” He started, Sheriff Stilinski shining his son a look of disappointment. It shifted though, only slightly, as shock was written over his face, head tilted softly to the side the moment his eyes fell on you, “And this one… I can also take account for. Surprisingly.” With a quick nod, the state trooper moved away, the dog now uninterested in you and Stiles as it followed. Sheriff clicked his tongue, “Does your Aunt know you’re – no, of course, no she wouldn’t. Did my son drag you out here? Because if he did…”

“No, sir. I was sleep walking. Stiles had nothing to do with this.” You spoke with honesty, a gentle voice that held guilt but sincerity, and he could sense the truth. He remembered when you would sleepwalk when you were younger – sometimes finding you knocking on his front door at two a.m, or even having your Aunt gather him for a quick search party whenever you rarely ventured beyond the front yard. Alike everyone, though, he thought you had grown out of it, but accepted the excuse as one of plausible nature.

He nodded in acknowledgement, but the softness fell when Stiles was back in his clear line of sight. The Sheriff grunted, “Do you listen on all my phone calls?”

“No… well, not the boring ones.” Stiles counteracted, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the light sarcasm.

The older man crossed his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed, “Uh huh. And where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Who? Scott? Scott’s home. Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school.” Stiles chuckled but it broke with slight nervousness. It was coming off him in waves and you wondered if he has always been this obvious. Honey eyes peered to you, a silent plea for back-up.

You spoke up, but remained tight lipped, finally stepping pass Stiles and standing beside him, “Yeah, you know, Sophomore year and everything. You two have Lacrosse tryouts, right?”

Stiles immediately perked up, his finger pointing in your direction as his head fell into a constant nod, “Yep, Lacrosse, yep. Getting ready for Lacrosse. Lacrosse tryouts. Lacrosse tryouts at school. Tomorrow. Yep.”

The Sheriff was evidently doubtful, eyebrows once again rising on his forehead, mentally asking you both if you really thought he was that stupid. With a sigh of his own, his flashlight shone over your heads, bouncing off the trees behind you, “Scott, you out there?” Alas, he was met with silence. Either Scott was better at hiding than you thought, or he bolted at the first chance he got.

Sheriff Stilinski then pushed lightly at his son’s shoulder, and indication for him to start moving, and you followed behind with no questions asked. “All right, young man, I’m taking you back to your car and we’re going to discuss a little something called Invasion of Privacy. Then you’re going to take this young lady home and you two better be asleep by the time I get back.”

You hummed as your fingers entangled, heat gathering upon your cheeks, voice falling to a whispered tone “Are you going to tell Aunt Valerie about this, Sheriff?”

You couldn’t see, but by the movement of his arms, the Sheriff had dragged his hand down his face, an internal conflict about who to do right by. He stopped walking eventually, Stiles still held strongly under his hand, as the man faced you with a fatherly glint in his eye, “If you promise me to head straight upstairs, and get some rest, then I won’t say a thing.”

Your eyes glanced up, admiring his kindness, and you smiled for the first time tonight, “I promise. Thank you.”

The ride home with Stiles was quiet. Your body was pushed up against the passenger side door, head lulled against the cooling glass as you watched darkened blurs of the woods pass you by. You embraced the silence as you hoped that he wouldn’t press any questions; head reeling already from the strange circumstances that led you to sitting in your neighbour’s car, your body cold and underdressed, feet dirty from the raw forest floor that coated them. It wasn’t hard to see how the boy was turning to look at you with all the curiosity he could muster, especially as the light from his dash radiated across his puzzled face before reflecting off your window. You saw his mouth open slightly, a pondering query dancing on his tongue, and it made you inwardly groan.

“Is this the first time that has happened since your mom?” It was innocent, and it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to ask you, but Stiles found it somewhat of an icebreaker. He loved mysteries, and right now, you were his main squeeze.

You sighed, pushing further against the glass as if you’d magically fall through with enough force, and escape the awkwardness that now pricked at your fingertips and crawled up your arms. Alas, you stayed where you were, and instead hummed in reply, “As far as I know, yes. I thought I grew out of it, but I guess not.”

He nodded and hoped that if he positioned himself just right, he’d be able to capture your eyes. He wondered if they held the same naivety as they did when you were younger – before the world fell apart at your feet, before his nine-year-old self held your hands for the first time and told you that everything will be okay. Back when losing your mothers became the bonding experience between two young children.

Stiles pursed his lips when he couldn’t find the right angle, slumping as he sat back in his seat. He clicked his tongue, “For the record, I’m glad we found you, before anything else could.”

It was as if you could taste the sincerity, a sweetened sensation that made your lips lift briefly in a soft smile. You too wondered what would have happened if Stiles and Scott weren’t searching for that body, if they simply stayed home and minded their own business. Would you still be wondering around aimlessly, would that pain you felt have increased tenfold, would the police have come across you? Better yet, would whatever killed that poor person have instead? Then it hit you.

“Stiles, where’d Scott go?” You finally spun around; eyes widened at the realisation. He was still out there, presumably, and who really knew what crept around those woods in the dead of the night.

“He’s a tough guy, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” The boy hummed, voice becoming doubtful despite him trying to hide it. He gingerly turned to face you, absorbing your expression of dubiousness before showing a small shrug of his shoulders, “I mean, he’s Scott. Timid, asthmatic, Scott McCall. But he can carry himself… right? Tell me we didn’t leave him for dead.” You weren’t sure yourself, nervous energy filling the cabin of Stiles’ jeep. As if on cue, the boy’s phone flashed, his fingers nimble as he pulled it from his pocket and glanced quite briefly at the received message. He managed a sigh of content, the corners of his lips pulling upward, “He’s okay.”

You exhaled your pent-up worry, glad he was safe, glad that as soon as you get home you can get this night over and done with. You settled back against the window, the heat of your breath creating fogged patterns on the glass, your mind wandering elsewhere – but Stiles remained watching you.

“Are you okay, though?” Which is what he really wanted to ask, knowing that by a simple look that you weren’t, but you didn’t plan on telling him that.

You didn’t want to answer, you felt as if you shouldn’t have to. There was a time where the Stilinski boy was your rock; your mother passed, and he was there for you. His mother passed, too, not long after, and you were just as much a rock for him. But time flew fast, it was harsh, and so was the pain that was left behind as Stiles eventually moved on. You weren’t a part of his playing cards anymore, and at the time, it sucked. You couldn’t help the cold snap that intwined around your words, a barrier that quickly built itself before anything could stop it, “No offense, but I don’t think you own the privilege anymore to ask me how I am.”

Stiles receded, his shoulders sinking back into his seat, face sagging into a frown as if he were a wounded puppy. He cleared his throat, “You know, when people say no offense, they really do mean all the offense.”

Your eyes drifted close. You begged yourself not to feel guilty.

Streetlights flashed over your closed eyelids and all you wanted was to be home. Prayers were hastily answered when the jeep had stopped, and you could see the side of your house as the soft jerking motion prompted you to finally sit more upright. Stiles wanted to talk more, but before he could face your properly, your frame was already slinking out of his passenger side and rounding the front of the vehicle. He clambered as he followed you, clumsy feet close to tripping him.

“If something is wrong, you know you can tell me - “

“Thank you for the ride, thank you for the jacket.” You interrupted; the material already folded messily in your arms before you were shoving it against his chest.

It provoked his voice to shake, stuttering syllables falling from his lips until he was following you again as you retreated to your front door, “Y/N, wait – “

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Even the blank emotion in your voice couldn’t turn this boy away. He was persistent and more so, he didn’t like knowing that he had done someone wrong. He reached for your wrist, skin still warm from the material you wore, and it was like the sorrow that sat deep in his chest was thumping into your own. The guilt increased, but you were unsure why – you got over this a long time ago, you thought, so why does the wound suddenly feel fresh again?

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, “If you need anything, I’m just one window away.”

You were careful this time as you pulled away, his earnest tone allowing you to nod in reply, a tight-lipped smile playing between your cheeks, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stiles Stilinski stood frozen in the pavement of your driveway as he witnessed you leaving him behind. He couldn’t move when he knew that something wasn’t right with you, an erroneous factor that reminded him of similar odd behaviours that were exhibited by you as a child. He remembered hearing your Aunt tell his parents of her worries – the sleepwalking to odd places, the lack of eye contact and phantom pains, the way you reacted so animatedly when it came to the emotions of others. He could see it all starting again.

By now, you had changed from your dirty clothes, a cloth quick to clean at the dirt on your feet. You had hoped that this eventual night was one of a strange dream, and that tomorrow would bring back normalcy. Without a second thought, you had sunk under the blankets of your bed and pulled them back up under your chin. The softness was enough to make you sigh in content and your nose nuzzled into your pillow. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow is the start of the new you. Tomorrow is when everything was going to change.

It was refreshing as you felt the slight Californian breeze rustle through your hair, the air clean as you breathed it in with a deep inhale. You woke up feeling as if last night never happened; or so, that’s what you wanted it to be as you ignored the muddy clothes in your hamper by covering it with more clothing before you headed out to School. You decided to walk – your last chance to rid the strange memories you harnessed before you took Sophomore Year by the horns – and now you found yourself nearing the doors of Beacon Hills High.

You could feel his presence before you saw him, Scott McCall pushing through the doors just ahead of you, and you couldn’t help but jog up behind the boy. You were suddenly drawn to him like a magnetised force, a silent call for your attention, a tether that connected you both together – just like the one in the Preserve. You slid in front of him as you smiled gently. Visually, he looked fine, just as you hoped as you gave him a sly check over before peering to his brown doe-like eyes looking down to you with slight shock. That’s when you lightly grasped his shoulder, and time stopped. Every person standing in that hallway was unmoving, and all you could focus on was Scott. Emotion flooded you to the point where you wanted to kneel over, your legs shaking for the merest second. You could feel your side pang with agony before it dissipated as quickly as it came. It was surreal, and suddenly everything returned to normal, your hand tightening on his shoulder. Another lapse of reality, and you wondered, what the hell was happening to you?

It was Stiles that now moved into your line of sight, his eyebrows digging deep in bewilderment. Scott reached up and placed his hand over yours, squeezing back, head tilting to the side, “Y/N, you good?”

All you could manage was a shake of your head, his question pushed aside, before your tongue darted out to lap at your drying lips, “Something happened to you last night, didn’t it?”

His eyes grew wider than before, pulling both you and Stiles to the side of the entrance and out of listening distance from the others. His voice was hushed, “A wolf bit me. It was pretty dark, but I’m sure that’s what it was.”

A bandage sat on his side, the same side you had just felt agonising pain from. Absentmindedly, your hand reached for a spot just under your ribs, dancing along the curve of your waist, like a phantom feeling. You were beginning to wonder if you were losing touch with what was real, but the deepened voice of the tall boy beside you broke away your troubling thoughts.

“Like I just said, not a chance.” Stiles interjected, his arms crossed, the perplexed look that he was giving you moments ago now gone completely, replaced by an expression of boredom and uncertainty.

Scott raised his hands, baffled that his recount wasn’t gaining any belief, “I heard a wolf howling.”

It was like watching a game of tennis, the banter bouncing back and forth, and all you could do was stand back with an amused expression and arms crossed over your chest. Stiles huffed when it reached his serve, “No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘no I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a half-step forward as your hand slightly waved to gain the attention, “What Stiles means is that California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years, at least.”

A finger was pointed in your direction, Stiles lips curled in as he showed support for your statement with a fast-paced collection of head nodding. Scott appeared shocked, inklings of innocent ignorance sparking at his warm coloured eyes as his jaw fell slightly ajar, “Really?”

Stiles threw his hands in the air, head falling back slightly as he let sarcasm seep into his actions. His voice marginally rose, “Yes, really. There are no wolves in California.”

“Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf…” Scott started, murmuring as he lent back against the wall, drawing you and Stiles closer. He couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips, especially when looking to his best friend, the information he held sure to rock something within him, “Then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

Your jaw slacked, brows reaching high into your forehead as you stood amazed by his assertion, “You what?”

“ - Are you kidding me?!” The deepened voice rose above your own as Stiles finished off with a chuckle of disbelief, watching as Scott drew a deep sigh.

Scott’s hand ghosted over the patch on his side, the remnants of a wound still prompting him to shake with uncomfortable chills. The memories weren’t near enough to match the anticipation building behind Stiles’ eyes, but he still managed a soft chuckle, despite the lack of humour you found within it, “I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

Stiles practically jumped on the spot, hands clasped together in excitement and practically urging you and Scott to take a step back. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen his eyes full of such enthusiasm, but it was nice to see some sort of positivity in this daft situation. Stiles tittered, “That’s freaking awesome. This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since…” And suddenly, his words died off, his focus instantly doubling down over your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but spin around in curiosity. You weren’t surprised to see Lydia Martin; her presence spoke a thousand words, a ‘no introduction needed’ kind of girl, and you were sure that Stiles’ lack of breath was due to her beautiful appearance. Stiles gulped back, “Well, since the birth of Lydia Martin… who’s walking toward us right now.”

She strutted down the hall as if she owned it, and in all honestly, she practically did. She had her followers and her fancy boyfriend, but you knew her for who she truly was – an intelligent, kind person who often makes the wrong decisions in exchange for popularity and high status. You immediately locked eye contact with her, the girl excusing her friends as she wandered toward you, her perfectly painted lips curling into a smile of authenticity. She greeted you warmly as manicured fingers fiddled with folded paper inside her bag.

“This is my schedule. I already took initiative to see what classes we have together.” Lydia was peppy, a smirk forming proudly between her cheeks as you gladly accepted the class list and she pointed specifically at the ones highlighted in pink. There were a few, not as many as last year, but you were grateful to have somebody willing to tutor you in classes that you couldn’t get a grasp of.

“You are a life saver, Lydia Martin.” You mumbled, placing the paper in your own bag before glancing up at the redhead, just in time to see her bouncy locks fly as she pushed them over her shoulder dramatically.

She shrugged, lips pursing forward to showcase the rose shade of gloss that she chose to wear, “I know.” She raised her hand in a small wave before spinning on her heel, facing Jackson Whitmore at the end of the hallway. You had never received a god vibe from him, the egotistical boy always rubbing you to wrong way. You were about to move off yourself when you heard a voice behind you suddenly blurt out, his loud tone provoking you to hunch in on yourself.

“H-hey Lydia, how are you? You look… like you’re gonna ignore me, yep.” Stiles crumbled, his lips forming a tight line the moment he heard Scott start to laugh beside him.

Your hand reached up to tuck stray hairs behind your ear, turning your torso enough to face the two friends. You wondered if the quandaries from the past twelve hours was a one off, seeming as you rarely ever spoke to neither Scott nor Stiles, and yet, you can’t seem to be able to escape them. You breathed in, lashes dancing against your skin as your eyes rose to meet their taller height. “This has been fun and all, with the wolf talk and the dead body and all that, but I gotta get to room 28 for my first class, so - “

“English? Cool, us too, we’ll go together.” Stiles smacked a still humorous Scott between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward to follow you toward your allocated classroom.

“Of course, we will.” You spoke lightly, hardly a whisper as it sat on the end of your tongue, quiet that you could barely hear your own annoyance, yet Scott glanced across to you as if it were spoken right into his ear. You tried to ignore him from the corner of your eye before hugging your arms close to your chest, head down.

Stiles clicked his tongue, Scott’s residual chuckling beginning to get on his nerves, “You’re the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.” He huffed, still hung up about Lydia Martin. It was common, you thought, for you to now be rolling your eyes at everything they did as you all walked through Beacon Hills High, their bantering becoming white noise as you cut out the voices that had been surrounding you ever since last night.

As you took your seat near the back of the classroom, you couldn’t help but throw your hands up as Stiles situated himself in front of you, Scott sitting diagonal to your right. You weren’t sure if you were being followed, or if you were oddly accepted as their friend for the day, but it was putting you slightly out of your comfort zone. Sitting back in your chair, you looked at the syllabus already on your table, prepared to inform you of expectations for the school subject for the year.

You were about to flick through its contents before Stiles spun in his chair, honey hues staring directly into your own eyes, and you could feel hopefulness sprout from him like a buddling flower in Spring. “You coming to watch the Lacrosse tryouts later?”

“And why would I do that?” You replied, head tilting to the side, confusion tugging at your facial features.

He shrugged; his smile unable to die down. You were sure that there was more to his willingness to stay by your side, but for now you took it with a grain of salt, leaning forward on your desk with a gentle yet challenging smile of your own. Stiles hummed, “Just thought it’d be cool for you to come and hang out.”

The loud squeak of a marker against a whiteboard broke your conversation, your view shifting from the boy in front of you to the teacher over his shoulder. You didn’t realise that the classroom was now practically full, and the older man cleared his throat, “As you all know, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to how it happened, but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Stiles looked to you immediately, shaking his head as a silent answer to your silent question – did you know about this? – before flicking it over to Scott and repeating the same action. It was news that you didn’t expect to be hearing, but a small flash of relief fell over you at the revelation that you were safe. Mr Curtis, your teacher, softly banged his fist against the wooden bench, hoping to regain the attention of his students, “Which means your undivided attention can be given to the syllabus outlining the semester on your desks. Read it now. And by read, I don’t mean skim.”

You picked up the booklet, cringing at the weight and thickness of the syllabus as you propped it up on your table. You were only a few pages in, making sure that you were indeed reading carefully as instructed by your teacher, before you heard the classroom door creak open. You were met with your principal and a student you hadn’t seen before. She was naturally, very pretty; her dark hair curled down her back and she had a wide smile that swiftly brought happiness to the room.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” Your principal concluded, leaving the girl behind before she began to wonder through the room. She ended on the only empty seat left – the one directly beside you and you couldn’t help but offer a small greeting under your breath and warm grin as she descended into the seat. The opportunity to introduce yourself dissipated the moment Scott turned around, a pen sitting behind mildly shaking fingers as he offered it to Allison. It was a strange sentiment, you thought, especially with how he knew that the girl was running short.

You shook it off; just another strange thing to add to the list.

You wandered over to your locker, watching as Lydia already began claiming Allison as her own. She always had a way with words – the way her tone alone felt like a promise to protect. You could hear the beginning of it, with how Lydia was complimenting Allison’s attire, and the squeak of joy she sounded when the new girl explained that her mother had her toe dipped in the fashion world. It wasn’t until they both got closer that you could feel Lydia’s smile, as if it were shining through you. She lightly grasped at your arm, “You’re coming Friday, right?” She asked, eyelashes batting.

“Am I even allowed to say no if I wanted to?” You replied, voice singing as books were clutched to your chest. You looked toward Allison, a happy head nod pushed in her direction, and she returned your sentiment with utter friendliness.

Lydia, however, deadpanned you, her expression speaking all sorts of outrageousness, before her finger pointed in your direction, “That’s not even funny. You’re coming. End of story.”

Scott and Stiles stood across the hall, their bodies perched against the cool metal of the lockers as Harley, a student in your year, continued to talk to them about Lydia’s grasp on people. Stiles replied to a question she spoke, his eyes fanning over the crowd you stood with, “It’s because Lydia’s hot. Beautiful people herd together.”

Harley hummed under her breath, “So does that make Y/N part of Lydia’s crowd then?”

Stiles stopped, focusing on you more than anyone else, his head dropping to the side. He took a second to ponder, “Well she’s beautiful so, it makes sense, right? Not that I even knew she was apart of that group…” He trailed off when you happened to turn in their direction, your eyes connecting once again, and the energetic boy wasn’t shy in ushing you over to them with quick flails of his arms.

Harley looked between Stiles and the crowd one last time, bidding her goodbyes before offering you a wave as your paths passed. You eventually ducked your head down, embarrassment settling in deep when you reached Stiles. You were starting to feel the annoyance of your sudden friendship with these two. “What is it now?” You hissed, voice firm to express your frustration, but Stiles ignored your tone.

“Since when are you apart of Lydia’s crew?” He queried, head gesturing down the hall. Of course, this was about Lydia Martin and his infatuation with her.

“I’m not. We’re just friends.” You were curt, short, but met with tutting from the Stilinski boy instead. You turned to face Scott, but his head was hung. It wasn’t until you could see the way his eyes followed the conversation with Allison, that you knew he was trying to listen in. “Scott?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

He remained hunched but his voice grew is huskiness, “Are you going to that party?”

It was impossible for him to know what you were talking about with Lydia. Not only were you priorly situated down the hall, but crowds of students were walking in between. It reminded you of earlier when he listened to you speak under your breath, and in the classroom when he had a prepared pen already sitting for Allison to take. Something was going on with Scott. Something was going on with you. And it all started last night in the Preserve.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so? It’s on Friday.” You said slowly with squinted eyes, unable to see Stiles stare at you both with as much disarray that he could muster.

Scott huffed, “We’re coming with you.”

You closed your eyes as you sat back on the bleachers, a deep breath inhaled through your nose as you basked in the warm Californian sun. It was the small break you needed from the chaos that had been shadowing you all day. You weren’t even sure why you decided to cave into Stiles’ plea to attend Lacrosse tryouts, but here you were, bag sitting by your feet and notebook balancing on your thighs. You were situated about halfway down, only a couple of rows behind where Stiles sat with amused eyes as he watched Scott get thrown into the goalie position.

“Y/N!” You heard, prompting you to spin around before you were met with the happy faces of Allison and Lydia. They waved at you, and you waved back, warmth bubbling inside your chest as you began to feel a happiness that you had been deprived of for a long time. It was nice to know that people were glad to see you.

As you turned back, a beam lighting up your face, you encountered a complacent Stiles Stilinski. He was gazing at you first, hands hung by his sides, a joyful smile sitting upon his lips. He was squinting slightly from the sun, but still didn’t look away from you, “You came.”

Your shoulders lifted in a shrug, a silhouette of a smile present, “I guess I didn’t have anything better to do.” You crooned toward him, inciting a click of his tongue before the muscle ran over his teeth. He let his head fall forward in a nod, a near-transparent flush of pink clawing at his neck and cheeks before he turned back with a chuckle to watch Scott prepare himself for what would be, a battle in itself.

You opened your notebook as you looked around, making sure that nobody was in reading distance before you drew a line down the centre of a page. One column was labelled SCOTT and the other was Y/N. The thought that something strange was happening had been digging deep into your mind since after first period, and frankly, you needed to see it on paper to truly believe something was wrong.

Under your name, you drew a simple dot point, jotting down the weirdness that you could remember; sleepwalking, strange feelings of emotion, feeling pain that isn’t there, sensing things that aren’t there. You stopped. Maybe this was a ridiculous idea. What you were writing definitely wasn’t making sense, but maybe it was just a brief mental break, that would fix itself by tomorrow. Scott, on the other hand.

You began to write once more, focusing now on the oddities that built up Scott McCall; super hearing, moody attitude -

The sound of laughter broke your focus, and you looked up just in time to see Scott get hit by the lacrosse ball. You cringed, a frown etching between your cheeks, and you silently hoped that he would get back up and try again. Coach blew his whistle again after some unnecessary snickering, and this time, Scott appeared ready. He planted his feet to the ground, knees bent and ready to steady himself. Jason Williams fired next, a quick shot that was no match for the sudden increased skill set of the practicing goalie. You were stunned. He repeatedly caught ball, after ball, after ball. It was as if he had been doing this his whole life, and it only solidified that something was up. He did not get that good, that fast. You added ‘super fast reflexes’ to his list and making sure to note down ‘asthmatic???’ with a very bold underline.

It wasn’t until Jackson Whitmore stepped up, that your stomach started to drop. You could see the cockiness just by his stance, and the way he twirled the stick between his hands as if he were preparing for a proper fight. He made you want to punch him in the face at every spare chance you got. You growled to yourself, muttering words of encouragement as they sat quietly upon bated breath, “Kick his ass, Scott. C’mon.” What you didn’t anticipate was the way Scott’s head quickly spun in your direction, a brief moment of eye contact shared between you both as if he were trying to agree. Coach Finstock threw the ball to Jackson, to which he craftily spun around and launched the ball toward Scott. It was a ruthless throw, not one for beginners, certainly. It was then that Scott showcased such occult-like precision in his catch, that Jackson was rightfully put in his place. It was a miracle, to say the least. You didn’t come to this tryout with the highest expectations but were certainly leaving completely flabbergasted.

Your view was obstructed by Stiles jumping onto the bench, his arms held high as he hollered and whooped with absolute exuberance for his best friend. He danced around and ceased all movement when he saw you, only just remembering that you were sitting behind him after he had spent the last thirty or so minutes chewing nervously on his fingernails. He briefly looked over his shoulder, watching as the other team members patted Scott on the back and expressed their amazements, set aside a fuming Jackson who quietly fled with Lydia by his side in a fit of anger. It was the perfect moment, he considered, on speaking to you. But you spoke first.

“He did better than I thought he would, if I’m being honest.” You mused, closing your notebook before Stiles could see and concealing it away in your bag.

The boy chortled, nodding in agreement before he managed to stand directly in front of you. The sun casted over his place complexion, allowing the constellations of moles and freckles to stand out even more, and you’d be lying if you didn’t find it even mildly mesmerising. They framed his face and were splattered across his cheeks, and eventually Stiles caught onto what you were doing when you weren’t answering his question, and instead, he followed your eyes as they flickered over his skin.

You paused. It had taken a mere moment for you to realise that you had been staring at Stiles Stilinski, utilising a cough to hide the embarrassment, a soft pink tone hugging generously your cheekbones. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

Stiles laughed, wholeheartedly, rubbing at the back of his neck. He briefly lapped at his dry lips, making sure that you were paying attention before he drew a deep breath. He tried to steady his breathing, but he looked nervous. To you, he felt nervous. And you weren’t sure how you knew that his heart was thumping at a hundred miles per hour in his chest.

“I was – uh, I was wondering… we were wondering, actually…” He turned and pointed to Scott, who was now beginning to climb the stairs up the bleachers toward you both, “What’re you doing after school?”

The Preserve was undoubtedly less intimidating during the day; not only could you see where you were going, but you weren’t as afraid of the wildlife trying to kill you. The sunlight gleaming between the trees created a gentle aura, an unexpected beauty that you never could have foretold if you weren’t seeing it with your own eyes. You drew in the atmosphere, taking a short moment to drown out the voices of the two bantering boys in front of you, to inhale deeply and sigh out in the utmost content. You never had ventured out to the woods very often – growing up, you were always told to stay away, that if you were not careful then something would scare you. That if you screamed, nobody would hear, or that the ones who could weren’t always the ones you could trust. Questions were never asked why as you could see the solemness that wrapped at their features and dripped from their words. You could feel the heaviness weighing at their shoulders, and that was more than enough to steer you clear.

But now that you’re older, the last thing you expected was for this scenery to stop time, to stand resplendent, and for the Preserve to be a place for you to find that serene clarity you craved so deeply.

A grumble broke your focus, eyes that had fluttered closed were now wide awake and staring at the two moving bodies just a little further up than you. Scott was irritated, but it was mostly the befuddlement of his situation that caused him to mentally pull his hair out and drive himself to near insanity. As you expected, he too was noticing changes, and his awareness is what prompted you to tune back into their conversation. “I don’t know what it was. I mean I felt like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball…” He started, trailing off as he showed slight exasperation with tense clenching hand gestures. He shook his head, “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

You walked a little faster, your footsteps leaving behind muffled thudding that Scott picked up instantly. Your eyes were squinted as he turned to look at you over his shoulder, face softening as if he knew what you were about to say. He let you speak, your voice humming, “You heard me today on the field, didn’t you?”

Scott nodded before pursing his lips, “And at the lockers, too.” It was impossible. You repeated it over and over again. It was impossible then, it’s impossible now. But, what if it was possible?

Stiles held his hands up and scoffed at Scott’s statement, glancing across to his friend before he shifted slightly to the side, creating a space widen enough for you to slip in between the two boys. A chuckle of complete incredulity expelled from him, “Okay, so you can hear things now? And smell things? Like what?”

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.” Scott claimed rather quickly, and a bit too confidently. It made your eyebrows raise as you watched Stiles stick his hand into the pocket of his hooded jacket.“

“I don’t have any…” He began, only to present the gum in question, the stick covered in lint and crumbs of god only knows what. Stiles was chuffed, a noise of satisfaction settling in his throat before he went to remove the remaining wrapping as if to eat it. You threw you hand out immediately, gripping his wrist.

“Don’t you dare put that in your mouth.” You said slowly, firmly, as you eyed off the gum with a cringe, eventually forcing him to place it back where he found it.

Stiles grunted as he sank his hands into his pockets, your bodies moving in unison through the forestry. He tutted and then released a loud, audible sigh, purposely done to gain attention, “So…. All this started with the bite?”

It was sudden when you felt as if you were running a marathon – your heart beating rapidly through an adrenaline rush, an anxious pull causing you to stop in your tracks for a spare second or two. Stiles promptly peered over his shoulder when he noticed you slipping back, his brow lifted in concern at your change in demeanour. But you didn’t notice him, instead, you gazed up and saw Scott, realising that he was panicking, and it was making you panic too. His hands were laced through his hair, and his head was faced down. He was a mess.

“What if it’s an infection? W-what – what if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I fall into shock? I knew I should have gone to the ER…” The boy stuttered, a look of remorse flashing over his eyes for a split second.

Stiles, who by now was a few feet in front of you both, stopped and turned around as he held his hand in the air. His interest shifted to his worrisome friend as he wore a serious expression, but something told you that serious was anything but what Stiles Stilinski was trying to convey. “I’ve actually heard of this. Hmm, it’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?” Scott called, a mixture of desperation and exhaustion etched into his words.

Stiles sighed. He wrung his hands in front of his torso, lips curling into a deep frown as he prepared his best ‘bad news’ voice, “Yeah dude, all the symptoms add up. I think it’s called… Lycanthropy.”

His mock-sincerity made sense now; the fact that he was known as ‘mischief’ only solidifying it’s worth the more Stiles opened his mouth. You always wondered if he had just one serious bone in his whole darn body. You couldn’t help but grumble, looking at him with an annoyed glance, “Don’t be a dick, Stiles.”

But Scott was too enthralled to take note of your comment as his brown hues grew doe-wide, every ounce of attention now pouring into Stiles. “What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

He was being impish in the way his lips gathered in a sharp grin, stretched wide between his cheeks. Stiles was having too much fun to the point where he began to nod, the commotion carrying forward, “It is, but only once a month.” You felt the anxiety drop slowly, your body no longer feeling like it was going to have an aneurysm, and you watched as Scott too lowered his shoulders. It was a breath of fresh air. Scott’s intrigue caused a cocked brow and a mouth that fell slightly ajar as he continued looking at Stiles in confusion, but his friend just chuckled.

Stiles cupped his mouth and howled excessively, mimicking an animal that only appeared in nightmares and campfire stories. You could see the realisation hit Scott, and he threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. Stiles stood there with a cheeky smile as he laughed, “Once a month, on the night of the full moon?” The shorter boy grunted into his hands the second he covered his face, clearly fed up now with the game he was just played, but Stiles continued his last leg, “Hey! You’re the one that heard a wolf howling.”

“You’re an ass.” Scott commented, passing by him with a heavy shoulder barge.

You were quick to follow, mumbling a comment in agreement with Scott, but Stiles managed to catch your elbow in your wake. You turned to him, noticing the seriousness had returned, only this time you truly believed it’s credibility. “You going good?” He asked, you two ignoring the twitch of Scott’s ear as he listened inadvertently.

The nod of your head was swift, and you raised your shoulders, “Yeah, ‘course. Why wouldn’t I be?” The lie was one that you hoped Stiles would never catch onto. Scott was experiencing something strange, and odd, and unexplainable – but so were you, and the last thing you wanted was the same attention on whatever you were. You didn’t need the worry. You didn’t need the sympathy. And you especially, didn’t need Stiles breathing down your neck about it all.

You continued forward through the woods and took your arm with you, your face catching brief rays of the warm afternoon sun as it licked at your skin. You had to remember why you were here – an invitation to look for Scott’s missing inhaler suddenly becoming a priority that you never asked for – and more so, completing the mission with the two boys that were curiously stuck to your side like superglue. Not to mention, the three of you were back at the scene of where everything began to change. It was oddly poetic, and scaringly coincidental.

You sped up your steps absentmindedly, a soft jog leading you to Scott as you made sure to stick by his side, particularly as his tone of voice was plummeting into despair, “There could be something seriously wrong with me. What’s wrong with me?�� He asked you when he looked at your saddened eyes, words of encouragement about to set a cheerier tone, if it wasn’t for an additional comment made by Stiles to interrupt the mood.

“Oh, I know! You’re a werewolf!” He hollered, earning himself two irritated looks in return. He straightaway held up his hands, a defensive gesture as his snicker began to die down, “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find, it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

It was only a few feet further that Scott stopped, his head jerking around as he turned on the spot. “I swear this was it.” He trailed, continuing his slow spin as his eyes affixed to the ground. He was beginning to grow frantic, “The body was here! The deer came running, I-I dropped my inhaler…”

You also peered down, hoping that an extra pair of eyes was enough to find his medical device quicker and prevent any further panic. It only took a step and a half forward before you froze. You no longer heard the gentle breeze of the wind flow between the trees, nor Scott and Stiles’ conversation. Their own bodies were stuck in ceased time, and you felt the need to kneel to the decaying forest floor. Slowly, you brought out your hand, fingers dancing with the most fragile movements over a particular spot, daring you to retract. But you couldn’t. Instead, you pressed your hand flat against the ground. It was like an electrical current run up your arm, alas, it was cold and it seeped into your chest and settled in your heart, causing it to wretch and tug and squeeze until you could no longer breathe. If you were to die, this is what you expected death to feel like. You gasped loudly, an abrupt action that seemed to pull you back into the reality you were accustomed to.

Large hands were already on your shoulders as you looked up, seeing a familiar body crouched in front of you, the sky-blue colour of his eyes boring into your own with worry. You didn’t even notice that you began to cry until the warm tears rolled down your cheeks, and you instantly reached up to wipe them away. You spoke quietly, “Derek?”

“What the hell just happened?” He asked, helping you stand as Stiles and Scott stood back with stunned expressions. You weren’t sure where he came from, or how long you were out, but the intimidation from the man was enough to shock the two boys into complete silence. You were embarrassed, dropping your head and shaking it question as your face grew red. Embarrassed for the blackouts, and embarrassed that you didn’t know why. He didn’t press any further, a hand slipping to your bicep before offering a comforting squeeze. The softness you experienced didn’t last long as he looked at the other two, the toughness he wore well now returning, “Are you two going to tell me yet why you’re here? This is private property.”

Scott couldn’t speak; blabbering sounds slipping from his lips whenever he tried to form words. Instead, Stiles cut in, “Sorry, we didn’t know.”Derek growled, a sound that came across more animalistic than you would’ve thought. He left your side to wonder further toward Scott, head tilting as he waited to see what the younger boy had to say. Derek looked interested as he gazed over Scott’s composure, and you wished you had the power to read minds, so you knew just what ran through his head. Scott’s shoulders slumped further than before at Derek’s closer presence, defeat fighting at his facial features and dragging down his body, “We were just looking for something – you know, forget it. Sorry to bother you.”

He went to turn away, but his new reflexes kicked in, perfectly timed to catch the missing inhaler that led you out here in the first place. Scott rolled it between his fingers, checking for any damage, but as he looked up, Derek was already walking in the opposite direction. Your eyes followed every movement, offering him a kind smile as he went to step past you. Derek had always shown you his gentle nature, even as a rebellious teen, he managed to keep a level head when it came to you. He happily returned the smile before ducking to whisper in your ear, “Be careful.”

To which, he continued walking, until he was simply a speak in the distance. You turned to Scott and Stiles, the boys both relieved and still recovering from shock. Scott cleared his throat, checking the time on his wristwatch before groaning loudly, “Come on, I have to get to work.”

Stiles still stood there with an ajar jaw, exasperation intertwining with his voice, “Dude, that was freaking Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

Scott appeared as if he wasn’t paying attention, his head shaking, “Remember what?”

“His family? They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.” His arms were flailing, over-exaggerated motions that somehow enhanced his communication. He looked stunned that Scott didn’t have a clue, which is what drew him to you, your head still facing the direction of which Derek left. “And what about you, Y/N? Since when are you best friends with the town bad boy?”

You were stoic, facing him with a neutral expression. Exhaustion had taken control and seeing Derek only reminded you of the past, which you would rather not remember. You sighed slowly, “We grew up together before my mom died. Before you.”

You didn’t intend for the timbre of your words to sound tough, but he was taken aback, his mouth closing and forming a thin line. He knew what you were referring to and he hated the way it affected you so much. He swallowed back a lump that gathered in his throat, then he cleared it, ignoring how Scott was looking between you both with absolute perplexity. He always knew that you both grew a part, but he never asked why, or how. It wasn’t his place, he felt.

Stiles licked at his lips, his bubbly energy seeming to dissipate before he threw his hand in the direction of his jeep, “Okay. Guess we should get you to work, buddy.” It was a silent reply, but you all moved quietly together, only a few words spoken here and there until you finally left the premises of Beacon Hills Preserve.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x yn #teen wolf x yn #dylan o'brien x yn #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan o'brien fic #dylan o'brien imagine #epmpatheia

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sexualtensiongrowing21 · 2 months

Text

I started writing a Stiles Stilinski fanfiction because I have only ever found ONE I was in love with and it seems the author abandoned it. But it happens. ANYWAYS if you’re like me and are craving a new fic then maybe you wanna read mine?

#issac lahey fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #Stiles Stilinski x oc #ofcmccall #mccallsister #teen wolf rewrite #stiles fanfiction #scott mccall #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #spicy content #current wip #void stiles #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #alsohaveitonwattpadifyouwant #looking for a beta reader #liam dunbar

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topazy · 1 year

Text

In the shadows

Paring: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 1.10

𝚃𝚘 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 -

𝙸'𝚖 𝟿𝟿.𝟿% 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 -

𝙻𝚢𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

𝚃𝚘 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 -

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠. 𝙸𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

When Lydia invited you to go shopping with her and Allison, you declined at first, due to hating shopping for clothes and still trying to process finding out who the alpha is, but Stiles begged you to go.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 -

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

“Allison, when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping, a five-mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting.” Lydia says he's trying to keep up with her.

You felt extremely uncomfortable. It was obvious there was some tension between Scott’s ex and the redhead.

“Before I forgot, I was trying to ask if you were okay with something,” Allison says. Jackson asked me to the winter formal. “Just as friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it first.”

“Sure,” Lydia tries to hide the hurt and jealousy in her voice, but her facial expression gives her emotions away. “As long as it’s just friends.”

“Well, yeah, I knew. It’s not like I wouldn’t take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything.”

They both go quiet, and you decide to speak up. “I don’t know why either of you would want to be his friends anyway; Jackson is a total jackass.”

When they both give you looks that make you shut up, you text Stiles, demanding he or Scott come and get you.

—

You puff out your cheeks while snapping twigs between your fingers. Allison was letting out her rage, firing arrows into trees, while Lydia desperately tried to make small talk with her angry friend. Leaving you to sit on your own, bored, you’d gone deeper into the forest and lost signal on your phone, so you couldn’t even text Stiles.

“What’s that?” Allison asks, worried at the sound of branches snapping.

“Probably a rabbit, a deer, or... someone walking their dog.”

Allison goes to investigate, leaving you and Lydia alone; the red turns and gives you a knowing look. You shrug, “I didn’t tell her anything.”

She lets out a huff. “Do you really think Jackson is a jackass?”

“Yes. There are much nicer, sweeter, funnier guys out there.”

She lets out a chuckle. “Oh yeah, who?”

“Um, Stiles, Scott…” you trail off when you can’t think of anyone else.

Lydia goes to say something but stops when she notices Scott and Allison approaching.

—

You’re made aware of the sheriff’s presence when he lets out a sigh and says, “Good evening, Mori.”

“Hi Mr. Stilinski,” you say from your spot on Stiles' bed.

“Are you aware my son isn’t home yet?” He looks amused when you nod. “I’ve just gotten home myself, so how on earth did you get in?”

You take out a set of keys from your jacket pocket and hold them up, saying, “Stiles got me a set made.”

The sheriff shakes his head and says, “Of course he did. I’m assuming this was after your mom called the cops because she thought a burglar was breaking in when it was actually my son.”

“Actually no,” you do your best to stifle a laugh at the look on his face. “Stiles already had keys made to mine and Scott’s house; he just prefers the window.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

—

“Hey!” You frown at Stiles when he rips an old comic book from your hands and tosses it onto his bed and says, “I was reading that.”

“We need to go now,” he says seriously. “This is life or death.”

You uncross your legs and reach for your shoes without urgency, asking, “What’s going on?”

“Scott’s mom is on a date.”

“Okay? What's so deadly about that?”

He gives you a look that silently screams we are screwed. “Melissa is on a date with the Alpha!”

“Oh shit,” you scramble to your feet and grab your jacket that’s hanging on the back of his door. “We need to go right now! What's our plan?”

—

“Hold on!”

You brace yourself as Stiles rams the back of his Jeep into the Alpha, also known as Peter Halle’s car. This was his master plan for saving Scott’s mom—crashing into her.

“Aww, are you kidding me? Stiles!” She fumes as she steps out of the car.

“Mrs McCall?” Stiles jumps out of his. “Wow, this is... this is just crazy. What a coincidence, huh?”

Peter gets out of the car and gives you a smug look. He knows that wasn’t an accident; he looks almost impressed and mumbles something under his breath.

“Mori!” Melissa waves for you to come out and join them.

Reluctantly, you do. You weren’t the best of liars and had a feeling Melissa would see right through you. Although, anything you said couldn’t have been as bad as Stiles, who claimed he just didn’t see the car.

You try your best to listen to what Peter is saying; he must have figured out Scott was nearby and was talking to him. You could have sworn Peter's eyes occasionally flickers red.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf x reader #McCall pack #stiles teen wolf #in the shadows #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski/you

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nephilimeq · 2 years

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If you could do one thing differently in each season of Teen Wolf characters and storyline wise... what would they be, and why?

Okay, for Season 1, I would have made it so that Scott would have listened to Derek and taken responsibility for his actions. Also, Stiles would have worked with Derek to help keep Scott under control.

In Season 2, I would have had Stiles' spark more explored, as well as the possibility that he was meant to be an emissary. This would have opened up the plotline to make a connection between Scott and Derek's plot lines by having Stiles unsure about who he is supposed to be an emissary for.

I wouldn't change too much about Season 3, it was pretty consistently awesome--but I would have removed the True Alpha storyline completely! Instead of that, I would have slotted in more of a friendship between the three main female leads: Lydia, Allison, and Kira. By having those three interact more outside of the male characters, we could have gotten an incredible powerhouse.

Season 4 is an interesting one. We have the introduction of Malia, so I would have had her connect more with Peter (because more of that character was much needed) and there would have been no romantic interest between her and Stiles. Kate Argent would have stayed dead and never come back.

I would have had the nogitsune briefly return in Season 5 just to kill Theo and to let the audience know that it wasn't entirely gone, and then to have brief flashes of it through the season, quietly killing off the enemy in secret as Stiles and the nogitsune would have worked in collaboration. It would have added a great layer to Stiles' character.

During Season 6, I would have brought back Derek to be the one to remind the group of Stiles' existence after he was taken by the Wild Hunt. And the writers would finally confirm that Stiles was Derek's anchor.

Wow, that took a lot out of me. Hope you enjoy!

#teen wolf meta #teen wolf #npheq ask and answer #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf season 1 #teen wolf season 2 #teen wolf season 3 #teen wolf season 4 #teen wolf season 5 #teen wolf season 6

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notanettelmao · 1 year

Text

The Tell pt. 1

Also on AO3

(A Teen Wolf Rewrite)

Fandoms: Teen Wolf, Supernatural Warnings: usual TW and SPN stuff Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x reader Words: 1,8k

Tags: @venomsvl @celestair

If you wanna be tagged let me know!

Y/N was with Derek when he heard about the attack at the video store. He took off in the direction of the store, leaving her behind. She swore, looked around, and started running after him.

When she finally got there, he and Scott were climbing the rusty ladder on the side of the building. Y/N rolled her eyes and climbed after them. Scott said hi to her while Derek stared at her as if he wasn't expecting her to follow him. He then turned to Scott.

"Starting to get it?" He asked, leaning over the edge to look down in a way that didn't make him visible to the people on the ground under them. Scott did the same.

"I get that he is killing people. I don't get why." Scott mumbled. Y/N walked a few steps toward the edge to take a look at the scene.

"I mean, we don't go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?" Y/N turned to look at Scott.

"Werewolves are predators. Not killers." She said. Derek agreed, not looking away from the people on the street.

"Then why is he a killer?" Scott asked looking at his friend and then at the older werewolf.

"That's what we are going to find out. Y/N, how does this look like from the perspective of a hunter?" Derek turned towards her. The youngest Winchester took a deep breath and stepped away from the edge of the roof.

"It must have been a rogue omega. He killed Laura to get the alpha power, which we already knew. We know that he wants to build a pack, and that's why he bit Scott. But something isn't right here. Why didn't he bite anyone else? I'll need to do some research on my own, maybe I will take Stiles with me because he can get us the police reports. I need to know if there were organs missing or if he is just killing for the fun of it." Y/N looked at her phone, texting Stiles to meet her a few blocks away from the video store.

"You do that. I'm gonna take Scott to the house for a bit. I'll see you later," Derek waved a hand her way and then ran off the roof, Scott following him. Y/N groaned when she realized she will have to climb the ladder down

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

The youngest Winchester got to the meeting point at the same time as Stiles parked his jeep on the side of the road. She quickly jumped into the passenger seat and told him to drive to his house. She needed his whiteboard for this.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Stiles asked as they got into his room. He sat on his bed and watched Y/N pace around the room picking different stuff up and then wiping his whiteboard so she had a clean space to work with. She ignored his question and wrote 'THE ALPHA' in capital letters in the middle of it, then drew lines around it and started writing everything they knew already.

"I need you to look in your dad's files to see if there were any bodies found dead with their heart missing in the towns around Beacon Hills." Y/N turned to look at Stiles who was reading the words on the board, looking really interested.

"You think it could be the bad kind? The one you told me about?" He was suddenly up, looking worried. Y/N swallowed and nodded.

"I have a bad feeling. And I need another wolf to talk to about it. Not Derek. And not Scott, Scott hasn't been a werewolf for long." She ran her fingers through her hair.

"I guess we have one more Hale we can visit." He said quietly. Y/N nodded.

"I'll go see him. I need you to go look through the folders. Look for the missing hearts and anything that could be a clue." She quickly dropped the parker on Stiles' table and turned to walk out, but stopped in between the door.

"I don't have a car." She turned back to look at Stiles. He let out a laugh and then motioned for her to follow him.

"Come on, I'll take you there."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Peter lived on the side of Beacon Hills where Lydia did. The rich part of town. He moved into his house right when he was let out of the hospital after his miraculous recovery. Y/N actually helped him and Derek to pick the place and get him used to being around people again. No one really recognized Peter in town, which saved them a lot of explaining about how the hell he was walking and talking after spending six years in a coma.

Y/N thanked Stiles for the ride and closed the car door. She watched him drive away and then let herself in through the gate. She walked up the stone steps towards the front door and knocked. She didn't have to wait long before Peter opened it, frowning. When he saw her he smirked.

"Ah, Winchester. What can I do for you?" He asked, moving to the side so she could walk in.

"Hi, Peter. Nice to see you too. Are you doing better?" She lifted an eyebrow at him and took off her shoes. She put them on the shoe rack in the huge hallway.

"Did you come over only to ask me how I was doing or do you actually need something?" He led her towards the kitchen.

"Oh, I just wanted to talk." She sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen island and put her phone in front of her.

"Talk? About what? And where is my nephew? Does he still refuse to buy a normal living space and tortures himself by sleeping in the burned-down house?" He pulled out two cups and started the coffee maker.

"Derek is currently at the old house with Scott. And yes, he still lives there. He is way too stubborn to listen to us. Even though it would be safer for him to move somewhere else now that Kate is in town. That woman is a whole new level of crazy. But that's not why I'm here. I need to talk to you about werewolves. And about how they go rogue." Peter turned to look at her.

"Why don't you ask your uncle about it?" He asked and placed one of the full coffee cups in front of her.

"My uncle was in an accident a few days back. I don't really want to bother him now, as I am sure he and my brothers have a lot of stuff to do because the Leviathans are getting all around the USA."

"Yes, I remember you telling me about him being shot. What do you need to know?" Peter sat down on one of the chairs on the other side of the island.

"How does a wolf go rogue?" Y/N asked.

"Depend on the situation. You can be kicked out of the pack, and then if no other pack wants you in, you lose it. You start going more and more feral. That's how omegas are made, but omegas are usually born wolves that go feral. The bitten omegas are more..." Peter stopped talking, thinking about how to say it correctly.

"They're the worst kind, right? The ones that feed on the hearts of humans?" Y/N asked quietly. Peter nodded.

"Yes, they are the worst. I don't know how, but they actually became weak to silver. Us born wolves aren't."

"I know. It is a myth connected to the Argents as they are the oldest line of hunters ever." Y/N agreed. She then pulled her father's journal from the bag she had brought with her.

"Can you look over this to see if there are correct facts?" She pushed the journal towards Peter, who took it in his hands carefully.

"It was my father's and my brothers left it with me just in case I needed it. And I know you know a lot of stuff about the supernatural as you yourself are supernatural. Also, Derek told me you used to have a lot of different bestiaries and other books before..." Y/N didn't finish the sentence when she noticed the pained look on his face.

"Why are you asking me all this? You think the alpha is a bitten wolf?" Peter asked. The girl nodded.

"If it was a born wolf someone would know something. There are not that many of you anymore and my brothers keep tabs on all of the packs with born wolves. They would know if one of them went rogue." Y/N explained.

"Did you tell any of this to Derek?"

"No, are you crazy? You know him. He would go right after the guy and get himself killed in the process." She took a sip of her coffee and watched Peter as he agreed.

"If you are right, and you probably are... We are going to need all the help we can get. Derek is not as strong by himself, your friend Scott still doesn't really know how to have control over his shift, and the sheriff's kid is a skinny human who talks too much. Even with the help of your angel friend, my wolf is not healed fully yet. You are probably the strongest of us right now with your hunter training." Y/N knew what Peter wanted her to do.

"I can't call them here Peter. They have a lot of stuff going on, I told you the Leviathans are everywhere-"

"Y/N, you are creating a pack around yourself. The alpha is going to see you as a threat." Peter said as if it was nothing. Y/N froze in her seat.

"I'm creating a pack around myself? How is that possible? I'm not an alpha, not even a werewolf." The youngest Winchester looked so confused Peter had to laugh.

"It is possible. You have to have the right amount of Spark to pull it off. You are a Winchester. You and your brothers stopped multiple apocalypses. The angels watched over you. You went against multiple gods and came out alive. There is no one else that could do all that."

"So what, I'm an alpha, but not really?" Y/N cringed as she said that. It sounded ridiculous.

"Something like that." Peter shrugged and got up from his chair with her journal in his hands.

"If you'll need me I'll be in the library." With that, he walked away.

"Okay, hold up. You can't just drop that and walk away! Peter!" Y/N yelled as she watched his back disappear up the stairs.

"You son of a bitch." She let out a sigh and put her empty cup in the sink. Her phone buzzed at the same time. She quickly picked it up and looked at the new text. 'There are at least 4 cases where bodies were missing hearts' was all it said.

"Shit." She let out as she grabbed all of her stuff and ran out of the door.

#teen wolf x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #derek hale #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #y/n winchester #winchester!reader #superantural x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #teen wolf rewrite #peter hale #kind of au?#might be different from spn canon #why are there no gifs of the rooftop scene

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strangerstilinski · 1 year

Text

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter eleven

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 12,383

chapter notes; the argents are desperate to find out who the alpha and mystery beta are. winter formal is right around the corner. amber has a bit of a rough night.

masterlist

c h a p t e r e l e v e n

co-captain

After school on Friday, Scott insisted they stalk Jackson's whereabouts around town all afternoon. Amber didn't see the point, but Stiles had climbed into his Jeep with a nod of approval and that had been that.

Around four-thirty, after an hour and a half of tailing Jackson as he ran menial errands around town, Amber had pouted until Stiles was convinced to take a short break to swing by the diner downtown.

Scott had frowned at them in annoyance from across the car, but he'd still been the one to amble into the diner without complaint to buy her a milkshake, making his way back out to the vehicle quickly to hand the contraband over to his friend.

When they pulled back out onto the road, Scott immediately thrust his head out the window. Amber snorted at the sight and sipped from her drink, watching Scott take a deep breath through his nose while his hair fluttered in the breeze from the moving car.

"You're really leaning into this whole dog thing, aren't you?" She called out to him amusedly over the wind.

Scott ignored her joke, "He's not in town anymore," He announced, "He headed out toward the old factories."

"Why would he-" Amber started.

She was cut off when Stiles took a sharp turn to head in the direction Scott's nose had told them to go. Her grip on her styrofoam cup slackened in surprise and she rammed into Scott uncomfortably as she was thrown off balance. His hand saved the beverage from spilling all over his lap, but only managed to do so by swiping at it and shoving it out the open window.

"No!" Amber cried, turning around in her seat to look out the back window. She caught sight of her milkshake splattered sadly on the pavement as they drove away, "Stiles-" She whined quietly, nudging his arm in annoyance.

"I'm sorry!" Stiles apologized earnestly, reaching out to take hold of her hand for a moment in consolation. He sped up as they raced down a lane between buildings, "But we're on a stakeout here, Amber."

As they pulled up at the edge of an abandoned building, they spotted Jackson's Porsche parked a few hundred yards away, Chris Argent's large SUV idling right beside it. Stiles swerved into the empty parking lot where the confrontation was taking place and slammed on the breaks as they reached the vehicles.

Amber's body continued forward with momentum as the Jeep jerked and Stiles reached out to brace her back against the seat as the tires squealed to a stop.

He leaned forward to peer around her and Scott, "What's up?" He asked Jackson and Mr. Argent casually, arm still thrown across Amber's sternum, his hand wrapped lightly around her bicep.

"Everything okay?" She asked through the open window with an eager smile.

"Hey, Scott." Mr. Argent greeted with a suspicious grin, "Your friend here was having car trouble. We're just taking a look."

"Oh!" Stiles exclaimed in feigned interest.

"There's a shop right down the street," Scott piped in, pointing behind them with his thumb, "I'm sure they have a tow truck."

"Yeah!" Amber nodded, "You want a ride?" She asked Jackson pointedly, eying the uncomfortably narrow sliver of space between him and Allison's dad.

Scott threw the door to the Jeep open and Stiles dropped his arm from Amber's chest to lean forward against the steering wheel after a moment, "Hey, come on, Jackson. You're way too pretty to be out here by yourself." Stiles joked.

Jackson nodded silently and took quick steps in the direction of the Jeep while Scott hopped out of the vehicle to make room for Jackson to climb into the back, stepping to the side as the other boy approached.

"Hey, boys and girl!" Chris Argent suddenly called out. He walked over to the driver's side of the Porsche and leaned into the car, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the engine to life, "Told you I knew a thing or two about cars." He announced as he rose to stand again, returning to his own SUV without another word and taking off quickly.

"Well, that wasn't creepy at all." Amber stated.

Jackson turned to Scott with an angry scowl, "What, are you following me now?"

The door of the Jeep slammed shut and Amber flinched back against Stiles' shoulder as Scott stormed toward Jackson.

"Yes, you stupid freakin' idiot! You almost gave away everything, right there!" Scott yelled.

Stiles pulled open his own door and he and Amber climbed out and rounded the vehicle to join where the boys were arguing.

"What are you talking about?" Jackson asked with an eyeroll.

"He thinks you're the second Beta!" Scott yelled at him.

Jackson's face contorted in genuine confusion, "What?"

"He thinks you're me!" Scott yelled, turning to smash his fist against the door of the Jeep aggressively.

"Dude, my Jeep-" Stiles said futilely, lifting a hand as he winced.

"I can hear your heart beating from a mile away," Scott told Jackson. Jackson's eyes drifted over to Amber and he looked at her questioningly for a second before his attention returned to Scott's shouting, "Literally! Now, he thinks that there's something wrong. And now, I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"

Scott yelled out in frustration and moved to punch the vehicle behind him again. Both Stiles and Amber stepped forward, but Amber's arms wrapped around Scott's shoulders first, urging him back a step to put some distance between him and the Jeep.

"Okay, how about we step back from Stiles' Jeep before he has an aneurysm-" She suggested, patting Scott's arm as she released him.

"You know, what? This is your problem! Not mine, okay!" Jackson shouted, "I didn't say anything. Which means you're the one who's gonna get me killed! Okay? This is your fault." He emphasized his words by shoving Scott back against the Jeep with a loud thud.

"Can we stop hitting my Jeep!" Stiles yelled as Scott shoved Jackson back in retaliation, "Yo, alright!" He said loudly, pushing the two boys away from one another.

"Guys! Stop it, okay?" Amber scolded as she stepped up beside Stiles, tugging on the sleeve of Jackson's leather jacket to tug him back from Scott. She watched the two boys breathe heavily for a few seconds as they got a grip on their anger.

"When they come after you, I won't be able to protect you," Scott told Jackson, "I can't protect anyone." He admitted despondently, looking between Stiles and Amber in anguish.

"Why are you looking at us?" Stiles asked nervously, the back of his hand slapping at Amber's wrist unseeingly until she tangled their fingers together.

Scott continued to look at them sadly until Jackson interrupted the moment in frustration, "You know, now you have to do it." He told Scott, reiterating his desire to become a werewolf himself, "Get me what I want, and I'll be fine protecting myself."

Scott looked at him in annoyed disbelief, "No you won't! Just trust me. All it does is make things worse-"

"Oh, yeah? Really?" Jackson scoffed, "Y'know, you can hear everything you want and run faster than humanly possible. Sounds like a real hardship, McCall."

"Yeah, I can run really fast now," Scott admitted, "Except half the time I'm running away from people trying to kill me! And I hear things like- Like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me anymore, right before breaking up with me. I'm not lying to you! It-it ruins your life."

"It ruined your life." Jackson corrected, "Y'know, you had all the power in the world and you didn't know what to do with it. Y-You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned sixteen and someone bought you a Porsche, but they should've started you out with a nice little Honda." Jackson said condescendingly and raised his eyebrows, "Me? I drive a Porsche."

Jackson turned and stormed away, climbing into his sports car and taking off.

The three friends stood in silence for a minute, unsure what to do next.

"I think that went well." Stiles announced sarcastically.

Stiles was standing in front of the refrigerator taking a swig of orange juice from the carton when he turned and caught sight of his dad sitting at the dining table, the surface looking as if a tornado had torn through the large collection of case files. There were piles of papers strewn around him haphazardly, his glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose as he read through a file with a look of determination.

"Whatcha doin?" Stiles questioned, stepping up to lean against the doorway between the two rooms.

"Work." His dad answered without looking up.

"Anything I can help with?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice."

Stiles rushed to throw the juice back into the fridge. He dashed over to the other side of the kitchen to grab the bottle of whiskey and a glass, running them into the dining room only a couple seconds later.

"Any leads?" He questioned, sitting down at the table beside his father and reaching for the file in front of him.

"Hey." The Sheriff scolded, slapping his son's hand away, "You know I can't discuss that with you." He wagged his pen at him with a serious look. Stiles unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey and his father didn't look up from the paper in his hands as he spoke, "Not too much."

Stiles poured the liquor into the shallow glass and measured out what he approximated to be an ounce before pausing. He glanced up at his dad's distraction and hesitated for only a second before adding another large helping into the glass.

"Okay," Stiles said slowly, pushing the nearly full glass into his father's unsuspecting hand, "There you go, dad. Bottoms up."

"Thanks." His dad said quietly, bringing the glass up to his mouth as he focussed on the paper in his other hand. Stiles watched with wide eyes as he downed the entire drink in one go before setting the glass back down on the table and returning to his work. "You know," His dad said suddenly, already slurring his speech, "Derek Hale would be a hale of a lot.. A Hale of a lot?"

"Hell of a lot?" Stiles supplied helpfully.

"Hell." His father repeated, giving his son a thankful thumbs up and nodding, "Yes. He would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him."

Stiles looked up in confusion, "How do you not have a picture of him?"

"It's the weirdest thing. Every time we tried to get a mugshot, it's like two-" He paused in thought and Stiles tore the photograph out of his father's fingers to look at it himself, "-Laser beams were pointing at the camera."

"Nice.." Stiles commented in a fascinated whisper, looking at the blurry image of Derek.

"Oh, my god." His dad said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face. "That ounce hit me like a brick," He turned his attention on his son and blinked slowly, "And I have said way too much.. If you repeat any of this-"

"Wh- Dad." Stiles defended weakly, "It's me! I'm not gonna say anything. Come on."

Before his father could think about it too long, Stiles snatched up a file buried at the center of the table and pulled out a report about a dead deer. The picture showed a large spiral carved into the animal's side and Stiles dropped the page before digging for another.

"See, the thing is, they're all connected," His dad told him, leaning onto his elbows on the table, "I mean, the bus driver that got killed; He was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire."

Stiles peered over to look at the file in front of his dad, "'Terminated under suspicion of fraud.'" He read from the page.

His dad shook his head in thought, "Exactly."

"Who else?" Stiles asked quickly.

His dad picked up another file and handed it over easily, slurring as he explained, "The video store clerk who got his throat slashed; He's a convicted felon. History of arson."

"What about the other two guys?" Stiles questioned, "The guys who got killed in the woods?"

His dad waved his hand dismissively, "Priors all over their records. Including-"

"Arson." Stiles finished quietly. His mind was reeling at the influx of information, "So, maybe they all had something to do with the fire." He whispered to himself. He desperately needed to know more and his attention snapped up to his dad as he got an idea, "Another shot?"

"No, no, no. No more." His father said.

"Dad. Come on. You work really hard, alright? You deserve it." Stiles insisted.

His father sighed with a small smile, "Oh my god, I'm gonna have such a hangover." He told his son, gesturing for Stiles to refill the empty glass in front of him.

"You mean you're going to have such a good night's sleep." Stiles corrected with a small grimace. He leaned over to fill the glass with whiskey underneath the cover of the table and swallowed guiltily, "And I'm gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell.." He whispered.

Stiles had refilled his father's glass three times by the time there was a quiet knock at the front door. Stiles' gaze snapped over to the entryway in surprise. When he peeked look at this dad, the man looked unbothered, as if he hadn't even heard someone at the door.

Easing out of his seat slowly, Stiles dashed to the front door and pulled it open to reveal Amber standing on the other side, waiting for him with a heartstopping smile. She went to speak but Stiles pulled her into the house and lifted a finger up to her lips as he shushed her.

"What?" She whispered, looking around the house cautiously.

"I got my dad drunk so he would talk to me about the case." He admitted quietly.

She blinked in confusion, "Which case?"

"All of them." He told her quietly, "Everything to do with Derek and the Hale fire and the attacks."

"Do you want me to go?" She asked in a whisper, pointing back toward the door.

Stiles shook his head, grabbing her by the shoulder and steering her into the mess in the dining room.

"Dad! Look who's here to help." Stiles announced with a flourish, pushing Amber to sit down in the chair across from his father.

Sheriff Stilinski glanced up to peer at her over the brim of his glasses with a dazed look in his eyes, "Amber. Hi, kiddo."

"Hey.." She said quietly, reaching out across the table and pulling Derek's arrest report toward herself slowly, watching for the Sheriff's reaction.

His dad's gaze didn't drift toward her hand. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his palms into his eyes over the table, "Guys, there's just. There's so many unanswered questions."

"Like what?" Amber asked gently as she poked through the file in her hands.

"Like, if Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire. Then why start with his sister? I mean, she had nothing to do with it." His dad slurred quietly, "Why make it look like some kind of animal did it? When that- When that cougar ended up in the parking lot, I checked with animal control." He said, pointing toward Amber across the table as he spoke, "You know instances of wild animal reports were up seventy percent over the last few months? It's like they're just going crazy. Running out of the woods."

Stiles leaned back in his chair and looked at Amber. Her eyes were round in realization and Stiles shook his head as he spoke to her quietly, "Or something's scaring them out."

"You know, I miss talking to you." His dad suddenly spoke quietly, attention focussed on his son, "It's like we never have time-"

Stiles wasn't listening. He dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone quickly, rising to stand, "Dad, you know, I have to make a call. I'm sorry." He caught the sad look of disappointment Amber was sending him as he stepped back from the table and his stomach turned guiltily, "I'll be right back."

"I do. I miss it." His dad whispered as Stiles took a step into the living room, "N' I miss your mom."

Stiles' steps faltered and he spun around slowly, "What'd you say?" He asked quietly.

His dad picked the whiskey up and made to pour himself another glass, but Stiles darted back over to the table to take the bottle from his fingers. He screwed the cap back on and set it down on the cabinet behind him.

"Thanks." His dad told him quietly.

Stiles risked another glance over at Amber and saw a pained look of grief on her face that he was sure matched his own.

The room sat in silence for a long minute before Amber stood from her chair, "Wow, it's almost eleven o'clock already-" She fibbed easily, watching for the Sheriff's reaction.

His eyes widened and he moved to check his watch but Stiles was quick to grab his wrist to pull him to his feet instead.

"Eleven o'clock?" Stiles' dad repeated, "Jeez, we should get to bed."

"Yes we should." Stiles agreed quickly, gently pushing his dad toward the staircase.

He urged his dad upstairs and waited patiently until they heard the click of his bedroom door before he turned to Amber with a dejected sigh.

"You okay?" She asked quietly.

"I'm a horrible person." Stiles admitted, his eyes drifting back toward the mess on the dining room table. His focus caught on the empty glass at his father's seat and his stomach churned with guilt.

His attention was pulled when he felt Amber's fingers against his cheek. She gently turned his head back toward her and squeezed his face with a thumb pressing into the skin on his jaw.

"You are not a horrible person." She told him seriously, hazel eyes flicking slowly between his.

"God." He whispered, "He- he never talks about my mom. Not really. It makes him too sad. And now I've got him drunk and telling me how much he misses her-" His voice catches but before Stiles had time to be embarrassed about it, Amber had pulled him into a hug.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and Stiles could feel her face pressed into the column of his throat. He took a deep breath as he reigned in the urge to cry, his arms wrapping tight around Amber's waist and turning his face into her hair, taking in the scent of her fruity shampoo as he calmed himself down.

After a long minute, Amber's hand drifted up to the nape of his neck and her fingers stroked softly along the short hair there in a soothing motion. When her next breath huffed out hotly over the skin of his neck, Stiles took a shaky breath for an entirely different reason. His stomach tightened in arousal at the realization that he could feel the soft press of her lips against his skin. When her warm breath exhaled slowly over his throat again, his arms tightened around her for a brief second before his eyes shot open in awareness and he stepped back, releasing her.

Fighting back a flush on his cheeks, Stiles forced himself to look Amber in the eyes as they pulled away from one another. He searched her face for any indication that she'd noticed his excitement pressing against her during the tail end of their embrace, but he found nothing but concern in her expression.

Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang out loudly. He scrambled to answer it before it could wake his dad and he nearly dropped the device as he accepted the call.

"Scott, what's up?" Stiles answered purposefully, alerting Amber to who was on the other line.

"Dude." Scott said frantically, "I need you and Amber. Like, now."

Stiles frowned, eyes locking with Amber's as she frowned worriedly in response to seeing the expression on his face.

"What-"

He was interrupted when Scott continued, "My mom just left to go on a date-"

"Dude, that is so not an emergency. You made it seem like-"

"She left to go on a date with Peter Hale!" Scott interrupted again, voice shrill and panicked.

Stiles almost dropped his phone again in surprise, "With Peter Hale? Scary, murdery, miraculously no longer burnt to a crisp, Alpha, Peter Hale?" He asked in alarm.

Amber's eyes widened at the small bits of information she was getting from just one side of the phone call.

"Yes! That Peter Hale!" Scott yelled into the phone, "I need you and Amber to go and stop the date! I don't know how and I don't care, but if he bites or kills my mom-"

"We're not gonna let that happen, man." Stiles promised, already pulling Amber toward the front door and grabbing his car keys out of his pocket, "We're on it. Alright?"

Stiles hung up the phone as he pulled the door open. It was starting to rain and they both ran toward the Jeep quickly to avoid getting soaked.

"What's going on?" Amber asked worriedly as they climbed into the vehicle.

"Scott's mom just left for a date." Stiles told her as he turned the key in the ignition, "With Peter."

"Scott's still following them on foot." Amber told Stiles as she read the text message on her phone, "He says they're sitting at the corner of Elm and West Main."

Stiles nodded his assent and took the next left, turning onto Elm Street heading North. Amber squinted out the windshield to focus on the dark road through the light rain, searching for any sign of the Alpha with Scott's mom.

"No, no, wait! I think we just passed them." Amber said quickly, spinning in her seat to try to catch another glimpse of the nice black car parked on the other side of the road.

Stiles cursed under his breath, did a quick u-turn, and began to backtrack down the street.

"So, what's the plan?" Amber asked nervously.

"Don't have one." He told her.

She turned her head sharply to look at him, "You don't have a plan?" She repeated frantically.

"Not really." He said weakly, allowing the Jeep to slow down to a crawl, "Should I just pull up next to them and-"

"Stiles. Floor it." She said quickly as they approached the parked car.

He looked over at her in confusion for a brief second, "What? Why? We need to-"

"Floor it!" She insisted in a rush, reaching out to wrap her hand around his own on the steering wheel.

Stiles pressed his foot back down on the gas. Amber tightened her fingers around his and at the last second cut the wheel to drive the vehicle directly into the bumper of Peter Hale's parked car. They both jerked forward against their seatbelts painfully as the Jeep came to an unexpected stop. The adults climbed out of the car in front of them and Amber and Stiles shared a brief look of panic before both tumbling out from the vehicle and into the rain.

"Are you kidding me?" Melissa McCall was saying as she checked for damage on the back of Peter's car. Her gaze caught on the two teens stumbling out in front of the Jeep and she glared at them in disbelief, "Stiles!" She scolded the boy, eyes drifting over to the girl beside him, "Amber. What the hell are you two-"

"Ms. McCall?" Stiles said in mock surprise.

"Gosh, Ms. McCall, we are so sorry." Amber apologized weakly, eyes drifting over to where Peter was standing beside the woman.

Scott's mom glared and Stiles took a step toward Amber to drop an arm over the girl's shoulders as casually as he could manage, "Wow. This is- This is just crazy! What a coincidence, huh?" He asked Amber.

"Such a weird coincidence!" She nodded emphatically, wet strands of hair beginning to stick to her cheeks from the rain.

"Ha ha." Ms. McCall laughed dryly, not looking at all amused by the situation.

"I mean- I do not know what happened," Stiles explained, tightening his arm around Amber's shoulders, "You guys just came out of nowhere-"

"Totally outta nowhere." Amber agreed, looking at Stiles with faux surprise, "One second, empty road. And the next-"

"Out of nowhere?" Ms. McCall repeated in a shout, "We were parked on the side of the street!"

"Yeah.. How crazy is that?" Amber shook her head in what she hoped looked like disbelief.

Stiles nodded, "Y'know, we should probably call the cops.. Do one of those accident report things-"

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary." Peter said quickly, looking out through the rain falling around them.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked quickly, letting his arm drop from Amber's shoulders and beginning to rub at the back of his neck, "I think I'm feeling a little whiplash-"

Amber gasped in feigned concern and turned to stand in front of him. She brought one hand up to his shoulder and cupped the other softly over the back of his neck.

"Whiplash?" Ms. McCall was repeating incredulously at them in a shout as Peter Hale stepped away toward the front of his own car, "You hit us!"

Stiles craned his neck to the side and winced, "I don't know, there's definitely something wrong with my neck-"

Amber frowned in sympathy and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, "Yeah, we should probably call someone so you can get checked out by a doctor or an EMT or-"

"He doesn't need a doctor!" Ms. McCall told her in annoyance.

Peter Hale rejoined them after a moment and he looked between the teens with a calculating stare before he spoke, "Look, there's no real damage to either of our vehicles. Why don't we do a rain check on dinner," He turned to face Melissa, "And I'll call you a cab to take you home."

"Stiles' neck-" Amber protested quietly.

"I'm sure the boy will recover." Peter told her in barely concealed irritation.

Amber nodded and pulled Stiles a step away from the werewolf, "Right. Sounds good to me. Does that sound good to everyone else?"

Stiles nodded quickly, "Sounds like a solid plan. You call that cab and we'll-" Peter's glare made him falter before continuing, "And we'll get out of here."

Peter pulled a cell phone from his pocket with a displeased frown and made the call, despite the pinched look of disappointment on Melissa McCall's face.

Once Ms. McCall's ride had been called, Stiles and Amber rushed back into the Jeep to escape her wrath and sat inside until they watched her say goodbye to Peter Hale and climb into a cab.

Amber let her head drop back against the seat with a sigh, "Mission accomplished?"

Stiles reached across the vehicle to lay his hand over hers on the bench seat, "Mission accomplished." He told her, "For now, at least."

"That's very reassuring." She laughed sarcastically, turning her head to look at him in the dark of the car.

He shrugged with a grin, "What can I say?"

"Well, you could let me believe for ten seconds that everything is gonna be okay." She joked.

"Alright." He nodded, starting the vehicle up again, "Everything is gonna be okay."

Everything was decidedly not okay.

On Sunday, Amber laid on her back on Scott's unmade bed, anxiously tossing a lacrosse ball up in the air above her head. She was increasing the height of her throws in small increments in an attempt to see how far she could throw it and still manage to catch it in her hands. She'd started the action hoping to distract herself from worrying about Derek.

It wasn't working.

Scott squatted down at the side of the bed and threw the dangling blankets up to cover Amber's feet as he poked his head underneath the bed frame.

"Call it again." Scott demanded without looking at where Stiles was straddling a chair across the room.

"It's not here." Stiles told him for the twelfth time.

"So, you lost your phone again, what's the big deal?" Amber asked, taking a deep breath and throwing the ball above her face again, "Shouldn't we be worrying about-"

Scott suddenly rose to frantically search the blankets around Amber's body. She yelped as he knelt onto the mattress and rolled her to the side carelessly. The lacrosse ball came falling back down and Amber only narrowly avoided falling off of the bed, the ball dropping onto the end mattress before rolling to the floor from Scott's wrestling with the duvet.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed as he watched his friends, "Why don't you just get another new one?"

Scott crawled over Amber's body, his knee digging uncomfortably into her thigh in his haste to climb back to the floor. She squeaked in pain but he was already on his hands and knees on the hardwood again, digging through a pile of discarded shoes at the end of the bed.

"I can't afford a new one!" Scott told them anxiously, "And I can't do this alone! We need to find Derek." He pushed up from the floor and paced the room again as his eyes looked for someplace else he could dig around in search of his phone.

"Okay 'A', You already know I want to find Derek," Amber told him seriously as she sat up, "But how are we supposed to do that?"

Stiles rested his arms on the back of the desk chair he was straddling and he cut in quickly before Scott could respond, "And 'B', didn't you say 'Derek walked into gunfire'?" His eyes drifted to Amber with a shrug, "He sounds pretty dead to me."

Amber leaned over the side of the bed to grab the fallen lacrosse ball and quickly threw it across the room where it smacked loudly into Stiles' chest before he could attempt to catch it.

"Derek is not dead." She told Stiles with a glare as he rubbed at the spot where the ball had hit him.

Scott peeked his head into his ensuite bathroom as he spoke over his shoulder, "Argent's plan was to use him to get to the Alpha. They're not gonna kill him."

"Alright." Stiles conceded, "So then, why don't we just let them do what they're planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter.. Problem solved."

"We are not letting them use Derek to do anything." Amber looked at Stiles in bafflement.

"Yeah. Especially not if Peter is going after Allison to get to Derek!" Scott interjected anxiously, throwing a pile of laundry across the room and rushing over to his bookshelf to shuffle things around, "I can't protect her on my own. Which means, we need to find Derek first."

Amber looked between her best friends and shook her head in irritation, "Also because, lord knows what the honest to god werewolf hunters are doing with Derek right now?" She prompted. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from the two of them, but it definitely hadn't been so little compassion. She waved her hands around emphatically as she continued, "Y'know, pain, torture, cutting him open to leave trails of blood for the Alpha to follow-"

"Can you both just help me find my phone?" Scott interrupted, "Now? Please!"

"Y'know, you probably lost it when you two were fighting." Stiles told Scott as he looked between his best friends, "You both remember that? When Derek was trying to kill you, Scott? After you interrupted him trying to kill Jackson?" Stiles turned to Amber with an incredulous look, "Are you starting to see a pattern of violent behavior here?"

Scott spoke before she could, "He wasn't going to kill anyone." Scott insisted.

"And we are not letting him die." Amber said firmly.

Stiles gripped the back of his chair and shook it with a distressed whine, "Could you both at least think about letting him die?" He pleaded, "For me?"

"No." Amber kicked her foot out and pushed at Stiles' chair, rolling him back and sending him crashing into the wall.

Scott suddenly paused in his search for the first time in two hours, tilting his head toward the window as he listened to something only he could hear.

"What?" Amber asked Scott quietly, curious about what was happening but not wanting to disturb what he was listening to.

"My mom just got home from work." He said sadly, still looking out the window, remaining focussed on what his mother was doing outside for a long minute.

"Is she okay?" Stiles asked after he had righted himself in his chair again, "What's she doing?"

"Did something happen?" Amber continued quickly.

Scott shook his head unhelpfully, "She-She's crying."

He sighed and came over to the end of the bed, dropping down to sit beside Amber.

She reached an arm around his back and nudged her knee against his thigh, "Scott.. You-you can't protect everyone from everything." She told him cautiously, her eyes bouncing between the Stiles and the side of Scott's head.

"I have to." He told them determinedly.

As Stiles drove Amber home at dinner time, she allowed the soothing movements of his driving distract her from the ever present pang of worry in her chest for Derek.

His right hand had a loose grip where it rested loosely on knob at the end of the gear lever and she watched the effortlessly smooth movements of Stiles shifting between gears as they moved along the dark roads.

Every once in a while, his lips pursed unconsciously as he got lost in his own head and Amber spared a fleeting thought to how much she'd like to kiss those lips for real. She wanted to kiss him for more than some childhood game, or for more than a passing second on accident. She found herself wanting desperately to kiss him until her own lips were reddened and sore from it.

Stiles straightened his fingers out in a stretch the next time he shifted between gears and he used the ball of his hand to push the lever up. Amber tipped her head back against the metal of the window frame and found herself transfixed as she stared at the long line of his fingers.

His eyes flicked over to her for a moment, too quick for her to hide the way her own gaze rested on him obviously.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked, attention flicking back and forth between her and the road in front of him.

Her cheeks heated at being caught watching him so blatantly and she shrugged before realizing he hadn't seen the action, "I dunno. 'S just.. relaxing."

"What's relaxing?" He asked as he shifted down and made a turn.

"Watching you drive." She admitted, "It's like, you don't even have to think about it- Like somehow you know when you need to change gears before the car does." She shifted in her seat, "It's not like that when I drive," She laughed quietly, "You make it look so effortless." And hot, she thought silently.

"I've got more experience than you," He told her easily, eyes drifting over to her again, "But you're still making me nervous staring like that."

"Sorry." She apologized softly, still not averting her gaze.

Stiles shook his head fondly and remained focused on the road as they neared her house. He turned to park in the driveway and she bent to unbuckle her seatbelt as they came to a stop.

"Thank you for the ride." She said as she pulled open the passenger side door.

"No problem." He told her, watching her close the door behind herself and giving her a small nod.

She tapped her hand against the window frame in silent goodbye before turning and heading up toward the porch.

She gave him a wave over her shoulder as he backed out of the driveway, pulling her keys out of her pocket. When she turned her house key in the front door, she frowned in confusion at the distinct lack of a click that usually signaled the release of the lock. She slowly swung the unlocked door open, pulling off her zip-up sweatshirt and hanging it on the peg beside the door as she stepped into the entryway.

"Jase?" She called out to her brother curiously, as she wandered further into the house, "You home?"

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time in confusion. Jason had only left for the station that afternoon and he wasn't set to be off shift for another twenty four hours, at six o'clock the following evening.

When the house around her remained silent she stepped into the kitchen and tried again, "Derek?" She called out this time, "You here?"

She still didn't get a response and she moved toward the archway leading into the living room. Her heart was pattering nervously in her chest as she imagined turning a corner to suddenly find the werewolf bleeding out and dying.

"Derek?" She called again.

There was a quiet creak of a floorboard from behind her, in the hallway between the kitchen and the staircase. She jumped at the sound but she was grabbed by the shoulders before she could turn around to face the noise.

She let out a small squeak of surprise but the noise was muffled as a rag was pressed firmly over her mouth and nose. She thrashed her body in an attempt to dislodge the arms around her but her head grew fuzzy as she was forced to gasp in breaths through the fabric over her face.

She whined in fear and reached backwards, fingers catching in the long hair of the person behind her. Amber tightened her hand into a fist and pulled as her vision swam slowly, knees wobbling with her next breath and her grip loosening on her attacker as her eyes slipped shut and she fell unconscious.

The first time Amber woke, she was laying against a cold hard surface. She blinked sleepily and tried to focus her eyes, but she felt herself doze back into unconsciousness against her own volition.

She woke up like this several more times. Groggily looking at the dark empty room around her, but slipping back into sleep before she could make herself move much more than lifting her heavy head a few inches from the ground.

When she finally woke more clearly, there were a pair of hands beneath her armpits, dragging her across a cold stone floor. Her hands had been bound behind her back and she pulled weakly at the restraints. The material of whatever fabric was holding her hands together was soft and didn't seem to hurt despite being wrapped and tied off firmly.

She tried to lift her head from where it was limply hanging between her shoulder blades and she groaned quietly at the throbbing headache she was harboring from whatever had caused her to pass out in the first place.

"Oh, good. You're awake." A chillingly familiar voice said before roughly dropping Amber to the ground in a heap, "Pulling your dead weight has been a real pain in the ass."

The girl let out a quiet gasp of pain as her hands and arms were pinned uncomfortably between her body and the cement beneath her. The feeling only lasted a moment and then she was hauled up aggressively until her feet were unsteadily underneath her. Amber stumbled and her knees buckled, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to steady her hazy vision while her captor jostled her with hands on her shoulders.

Amber continued to stumble as she was led down the long dark passage through some sort of underground cellar. As her brain cleared, she turned her head to get a look at the woman behind her.

Kate Argent continued to push the girl forward, looking frighteningly beautiful and shooting Amber a sly smile when she noticed the girl's now-attentive gaze.

"Der!" Kate called out teasingly in a singsong voice, "I have a surprise for you!"

Kate tugged Amber to a stop just outside a slightly more well lit room, the brightness leaching out through the doorway and into the dark corridor.

At the annoying nickname for Derek, Amber's heart had begun to pound in her chest and she opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped when one of Kate's hands reached up to cover her lips firmly.

"I don't care." Derek's voice snapped, words coming slowly.

Kate peered into the doorway, holding Amber against the wall just outside with her hand over the girl's mouth. The woman smiled, "Oh, play nice, Der. After all, I did bring your girlfriend for a visit."

Her words were punctuated by sending Amber into the room with a hard shove. Without her hands to brace herself, when Amber's feet caught underneath her from the unexpected push, she was sent to the ground and onto her knees. She winced at the impact against the stone floor but quickly shuffled to get back to her feet, her eyes darting around anxiously. Kate was hovering close by and Amber took a nervous step to the side as her gaze caught on Derek.

The werewolf was shirtless and bound to a tall metal grate with cuffs around his hands and ankles, his face pale and sweaty from whatever abuse he'd endured over the last forty-odd hours.

Amber's chest tightened with anxiety and her hands pulled feebly at the binds around her wrists without thought.

"Derek-" His name fell from her lips in both relief to see him alive and panic at seeing him so helpless.

"It's funny," Kate interrupted, draping a hand over Amber's left shoulder and pushing down until her legs buckled and the girl fell to her knees again, "Y'know, I could've sworn you had a thing for older women," Amber looked up to see Kate grinning at Derek, "But it looks like you're interested in girls a little younger, these days."

Amber frowned but Derek simply growled and pulled at his restraints. Whether he was trying to break free to get to Amber or Kate, it was hard to be sure.

"I'm here because you think I'm Derek's girlfriend?" Amber asked, her stomach dropping at the realization that the woman had to have somehow gotten the information from Allison, "I-I'm not- I'm not Derek's girlfriend-"

"Oh, sweetie, you don't have to lie," Kate told Amber while patting her on the head in a way that felt condescending, "I know he slept with you just the other night. Tell me, what would your big brother think if he found out you were screwing a guy his age?"

"We're not." Derek grunted. "I am nothing like you. You're wrong. So just, let her go." His words came out slowly, as if each one was causing him pain.

It was only then that Amber felt the everpresent charge of electricity in the air. Her eyes caught on the cables attached to the metal grate Derek was chained to and she traced the path of the cables over to where they connected to some sort of large control panel. The knobs on the panel were all turned halfway up on a dial that went to ten; If having them set to five out of ten had Derek weak and in pain, Amber worried what would happen if Kate were to crank the dial up all the way.

"Oh, Der. I can't do that quite yet," Kate responded to Derek's statement, "Before we really get started, let's just get Beta suspect number one out of the way," She pulled Amber back up with a hand fisted in the girl's hair.

Amber gasped as she was tugged to her feet again and before she could process what was happening, something sharp sliced across the side of her stomach through the fabric of the tshirt she was wearing. "I can't imagine you're only pretending to be this weak and helpless, but.. Well, you can never be too sure, can you?"

Amber's hair was released and she strained against her binds again as she looked down at the blood beginning to seep through the gray cotton of her shirt. Her hands itched to reach down and touch, to relieve some of the achingly sharp sting from the deep cut. She watched the fabric darken and stick against her skin as she bled, her mind blank as her heart pounded in her ears.

"You think I'm a werewolf?" She squeaked incredulously after a moment.

Kate shrugged, wiping the blood from the small blade in her hand with a cloth, "I'm starting to doubt it. But, let's check, shall we?"

Kate resheathed her weapon and reached out to pull Amber's shirt up a few inches to reveal the three inch cut along the side of her lower abdomen. The wound was quite obviously still open and bleeding steadily. It dripped down to stain the light wash denim of her jeans a dark red.

"Hm," Kate hummed in disappointment, shoving Amber back down onto her knees with a tight grip at the back of the girl's neck, "Alright, Derek. It's not your girlfriend-"

"I'm not his girlfriend." Amber repeated frantically, heart pounding in her chest. She looked up from the blood soaking into her clothes and watched Derek's angry glare as he continued to pull weakly at his restraints.

Kate rolled her eyes, "Alright, sure. You're 'not his girlfriend.' But, one, if not both of you, knows who the Alpha and the other Beta are and I'm gonna need you to tell me."

The three of them settled into an uncomfortable silence and Amber took a shaky breath and shifted on her knees to relieve some of the pressure from where they were already beginning to ache from their repeated impact with the hard floor.

Kate sighed before continuing, "Derek here won't tell me.. He's a tough one to crack, but you," Kate clicked her tongue and tilted her head at Amber, "I think you might be more willing. With a bit of persuasion, of course."

Amber slid a small step away on her knees to put distance between Kate and herself, "You don't need to persuade me because I don't know who they are." She lied quickly.

Before she could say another word, Kate had shoved Amber onto her back on the hard floor. The woman straddled her and brought the back of her arm to rest over Amber's throat, applying just enough pressure that the girl struggled to pull in oxygen on her next breath.

"Are you sure about that, sweetie?" Kate asked innocently, raising her eyebrows and pushing her arm down that much harder against Amber's windpipe.

"I don-" Amber's words came out choked and incoherent, and Kate let up a fraction so that the girl could speak, "I don't know. I don't know who the Beta is. Or- Or the Alpha. I swear."

Kate squinted down at her in scrutiny before lifting her gaze up to Derek, "I guess you're gonna have to tell me, Derek."

"Derek, don't worry about me, okay? Please don't-" Amber's desperate pleas were cut off when Kate pushed the back of her forearm down against the girl's neck again.

Amber's arms were pinned to the cold floor beneath her back and her lungs were already beginning to hurt from the lack of oxygen. Her throat ached and her face felt too hot as she suffocated. Just when she was beginning to wonder whether Kate was truly intending to kill her, the woman above her was gone.

Amber coughed, rolling onto her side to gasp in deep breaths, head swimming as she recovered.

Kate was crossing the room to stand behind the control panel on the table along the wall, giving both Derek and Amber a smile before she cranked the knob up slowly. Derek took in pained shallow breaths as the electricity flowing into his body increased and Amber's jaw trembled from how tightly she was clenching it shut.

Shifting her focus onto Amber, Kate smiled as she turned the knob up that much more until Derek's whole body was tight with agony.

Amber got to her knees and yanked uselessly once more against the cloth wrapped tightly around her wrists. Her eyes burned with tears as she was forced to watch Derek pull on his own restraints and groan angrily.

"We don't know!" She cried, sitting back on her feet as she took in a heaving breath, "We don't know who they are, please. Please, stop-"

Kate pursed her lips and turned down the controls again. Amber watched Derek's body relax slightly at the decrease of electricity rushing through his body and she too sagged in relief.

"Alright, alright." Kate held up her hands in mock surrender. She made her way over to the teenage girl and pulled her back to her feet with a hand around her bicep, leading her over toward the table by the door. Standing pressed against her back, Kate grabbed a small slip of paper with a phone number written on it and slipped it into the front pocket of the girl's jeans. "I just want you to remember; Every second that you're at home. At school. Cozied up in bed.. I want you to remember what I'm doing to Derek. What I'll continue doing to Derek until we find the other Beta and the Alpha." Kate spoke softly with her lips pressed against the shell of Amber's ear, "Call me. If you figure anything out and you decide you want to put an end to poor Derek's pain and suffering."

And with that, Kate's hand lifted to press a citrusy smelling bundle of cloth back over Amber's mouth and nose. Amber's eyes went to Derek in panic. She didn't want to leave him here by himself to be tortured. The girl thrashed her body violently in an attempt to loosen Kate's hold on her but she only succeeded in exerting herself and pulling in deeper breaths of the chemical coating the rag.

The last thing Amber saw as her vision blurred, was Derek's face, pinched tight in pain and what the girl thought might have been worry.

In the locker room after free period on Monday, Stiles nudged Scott's shoulder, "Have you seen or heard from Amber today?" He asked as he checked his phone again.

Scott shook his head with a shrug, "No phone, remember? And I haven't seen her. But that doesn't mean anything bad, alright? She probably just isn't feeling well."

Stiles frowned worriedly and slipped his phone back into his pocket, "I don't know, man. It just doesn't seem-"

"I think I'm gonna have Jackson take Allison to formal." Scott interrupted, already looking across the locker room over his shoulder.

Stiles blinked in surprise at the change in conversation and shook his head in disbelief, "Dude. Jackson's not going to do you any favors. Even if that favor is taking Allison to formal."

"I have to try," Scott told him determinedly, "I have a D in three classes. If Coach won't let me go to the dance, someone has to be able to protect her in case anything happens."

Stiles shrugged and shook his head as he and Scott approached Jackson at his lacrosse locker.

"What do you two dickwads want?" Jackson rolled his eyes, pulling his backpack off of a hook in his locker.

"I want you to take Allison to the dance." Scott told him.

Jackson didn't immediately answer and Stiles slammed the boy's locker shut before leaning against it to watch the trainwreck unfold.

"You want me to take her to formal?" Jackson finally asked for clarification.

"I don't want you to. I need you to." Scott said honestly and Stiles looked around them as the locker room began to clear out.

"Screw you," Jackson told Scott before turning to Stiles, "You know what, screw you too. In fact, screw each other." He said, gesturing between them.

"Hey, you know he saved your life, right?" Stiles reminded him, thinking back what he and Amber had been told about when they and Derek had been ambushed on Friday night.

"He left me for dead." Jackson said.

Scott looked at the boy in disbelief, "I got shot for you."

"Oh, yeah?" Jackson asked, looking between them, "Show me the bullet wound."

"You know it healed." Scott defended quietly.

"Mm," Jackson hummed, pulling on the strap of his backpack, "Convenient."

"Just, do it for Allison," Scott pleaded, "Okay? She's in serious danger. I'm talking around-the-clock danger. She needs someone to keep an eye on her at the dance."

Jackson looked at Stiles in disbelief and Stiles averted his gaze, leaning his head back against the lockers to look at the ceiling.

Jackson spluttered quietly, "Have her dad do it. Okay? He's the one actually equipped to handle this."

"How am I supposed to do that and.. And keep him from finding out about me?" Scott asked quickly.

"Not my problem." Jackson told him, shaking his head and going to push past them.

Scott's arm shot out to block Jackson's path and slammed against the locker beside Stiles. Scott waited until Jackson took a step back before he spoke.

"You're her friend too." He told Jackson, "You are. All that time you spent with her to get to me.. You can't tell me that you didn't get to know her and like her. It's Allison. It's impossible not to like her. You can't tell me you don't care if she gets hurt."

"What if I get hurt?" Jackson questioned.

Scott didn't hesitate before answering, "Then it's worth it."

Jackson shook his head, "Not to me." He said, pushing between them and heading toward the front of the locker room.

Stiles made a face and turned to watch him go, "I'm not going to say 'I told you so'.." Stiles said before licking his lips, "'Cause that's not strong enough. How about, 'I'm always right, and you should listen to whatever I have to say and never disagree ever. Ever, ever. For the sake of your wolflihood.'"

He blinked at Scott and awaited a response.

Scott's eyes narrowed in determination, "I'm not done." He told Stiles before moving to follow after Jackson.

"You're not done." Stiles repeated quietly in exasperation. He leaned back against the locker with a loud thump, "Okay."

There was a crash from the front of the locker room and Stiles scrambled to round the corner of lockers and see what was going on. Scott had thrown Jackson against the locker room door and was holding him up off of the floor easily with his wolfy-strength. Jackson's fear-filled eyes met Stiles' over the top of Scott's head and he pulled at the hand fisted in his shirt.

"Okay, okay!" Jackson agreed frantically, "I'll take her to the dance! Just put me the hell down!"

Rather than simply let Jackson's feet back down onto the floor, Scott tossed Jackson to the side where he slammed into a row of lockers with a bang. The boy scrambled to pick up his bag and pull it back onto his shoulder.

"Ask her now." Scott told him.

"Okay, alright. I'll go ask her now." Jackson said quickly before rushing through the door and out into the hallway.

Stiles came to stand beside Scott and they both followed behind at a leisurely pace as they stalked Jackson down the hall.

"So, that worked." Stiles observed amusedly.

Scott pulled him to a stop and the two of them peered around the corner to look at where Jackson was talking to Allison in front of her locker. He was sweating and smiling nervously and Stiles shook his head with a roll of his eyes at the lack of subtlety. Jackson and Allison talked for a long minute, and while they couldn't hear what was being said, all seemed to be going according to plan.

"Hey," Stiles said quietly, nudging Scott, "Don't worry. I'll be there too."

"I'm still going." Scott told him as they watched Allison take Jackson's arm in her grip and lead him away down the hall.

"Is that such a good idea?" Stiles asked, "Do you even have a date?"

"Not yet." Scott said.

Stiles pursed his lips, "Do you have a suit?"

"Not yet." Scott repeated in annoyance.

"Do you have a ticket to the formal?" Stiles questioned dubiously, "A ride there?"

Scott sighed, "No. And no." He shrugged and looked at Stiles as his face broke into a grin, "Did you ask Amber yet?"

Stiles frowned and readjusted his backpack over his shoulder, "Not-not in so many words.." Scott raised his eyebrows and Stiles shoved his shoulder, "-Or in any words. Look, I'm working on it. And besides, we're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

"Okay." Scott surrendered, raising his hands in submission.

Stiles nodded before giving his sarcastic approval, "So, you. You're gonna ride your bike to a dance that you're not even allowed to go to without a date, a suit, or any way in.. With werewolves and werewolf hunters all out to kick your werewolf ass."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, "You gonna help me?"

Stiles grinned and grabbed Scott by his shoulder, "Hell yeah."

When Amber woke again, it happened slowly — much the same as she had the first time around. She regained consciousness a handful of times, not managing much beyond looking bleary-eyed around her living room in confusion before she drifted off again and again.

When she finally woke with minimal fuzz clouding her brain, it was to the realization that she was laying on her living room sofa, the bright daylight streaming in through the windows urging her to sit up slowly.

A quiet whine of discomfort slipped past her lips when the movement both caused her brain throb painfully in her skull, and pulled painfully at the cut she was still sporting across her stomach. Her hand went down to lift the hem of her tshirt and she found that the movement had torn open the scab that had dried over the wound at some point, a slow trail of blood once again making it's way down toward her already stained jeans.

On unsteady feet, she moved toward the kitchen, gaze catching the clock on the wall as a wave of nausea washed over her. It was after three o'clock in the afternoon already. Her stomach churned anxiously at the knowledge that she'd spent a majority of the last twenty hours unconscious.

She spotted her phone lying on the kitchen floor where she must've dropped it the night before and bent to pick it up but she was forced to place a white-knuckles grip onto the counter top of the island when the action caused a violent wave of dizziness. Trying desperately not to puke, she pulled in a deep shaky breath and unlocked her phone to find two text messages from Lydia, and four texts along with two missed calls from Stiles.

Shaky fingers fumbled to click on Stiles' contact as she slid to the kitchen floor and leaned her back against the cabinets. Her knees drew into her chest as she listened to the loud ringing and waited for him to pick up, her hand trembling where she held the phone up to her ear.

"Yo," Stiles answered the phone casually, the barest hint of worry in his voice, "Where were you today? I've been texting you."

"Stiles?" Amber breathed in quiet relief, "Are- are you with Scott?"

"No, I just dropped him off at home," Stiles said in confusion, "Why? What's wrong? I can go pick him back up-"

"No!" She told him quickly, taking a slow breath before continuing, "No, don't get Scott. Can you- Can you just come get me?" She asked in a soft whisper.

She had a brief thought about going upstairs to get clean clothes, but when her eyes drifted up to the doorway where Kate had surprised her the night before, her heartbeat picked up in her chest.

"Yeah, 'course. Why- Are you at home? What's goin' on? You're making me nervous." Stiles rambled off quickly on the other end of the phone.

"I'm home," She told him, eyes raking over the room around her.

The room that Kate had infiltrated and waited patiently in so that she could ambush her in the dark–

"But I-I don't wanna be here. I can't-" A small sob interrupted her and her eyes welled with tears.

"Hey, no. No, don't cry," Stiles pleaded quickly, "I'll be right there okay? Just- Just give me five minutes. I'll be right there."

She tried to make a noise of acknowledgment but all that came out was another small sob. She curled in on herself as she cried, the cut on her stomach stinging in protest as she did so. She didn't end the call, but she let the phone fall from her ear as she leaned her face into her knees and wrapped her arms around her head.

She cried for what had to have been five minutes, because the next thing that she was aware of was Stiles' voice shouting out to her from the front of the house.

"Stiles?" Amber called out, voice hoarse from her sobs.

He ran around the corner and skidded into the kitchen, only hesitating in the doorway at the sight of her for a second before he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Hey, what's going on? What happened?" He asked worriedly, gently prying her hands away from her face.

She took a shaky breath and his eyes caught on her fingertips. He pulled at her wrist to lift her hands between their faces and show Amber the dark red smudges on the fingers of her left hand.

"Is this blood?" Stiles asked quickly, "Amber, is this your blood?"

She sniffled once and dropped her left leg to the floor, revealing the rip and dark stain in the light fabric of her shirt. Stiles' eyes widened and he looked up to meet her gaze quickly before leaning forward to reach for the hem of her shirt. He lifted it slowly to expose the bloody wound on her abdomen.

"Amber, what the hell?" He exclaimed worriedly, "What- What is this? What happened?"

"Kate Argent." She said quietly, leaning her head back against the cabinets again when her head throbbed, "She thinks Derek and I- She wants to know who the Alpha and the other Beta werewolf are. She-she wanted me to tell her about Peter Hale and Scott and she took me to see Derek-"

"So Derek is alive?" Stiles interrupted.

"She's torturing him," Amber cried quietly, "She wanted to prove I wasn't the Beta, so she cut me to see if I'd heal. She-She wanted me to tell her about Scott."

Stiles reached up to rub her shoulders, "Did you?"

"No!" She told him quickly, "No, of course not! I-I told her I didn't know who they were."

"Okay." He said quietly in thought, "Okay."

"When I got home last night, she was here." She whispered, her eyes drifting over toward the doorway again, "She was waiting for me and she drugged me but- But I don't know where she took me. Derek was right there in front of me but I still don't know where he is-"

"Hey, it's okay." Stiles assured her, "You're okay."

She let out another small sob, "What do we do? We need to keep Scott safe but Derek-"

"We're gonna figure it out, okay?" He promised, "We'll talk to Scott and-"

"No!" She told him quickly, "We can't tell Scott what happened."

"What?" He asked incredulously, tightening his grip on her shoulders, "Amber, we have to tell Scott."

She shook her head, "We can't. Stiles, he's already distracted worrying about Allison. I can't have him worried about me too. If he's not focused he's gonna get hurt."

"You're already hurt." He defended.

"Exactly." She told him, sitting up straighter, "There's nothing we can do about it now, right? We can't tell him. If he's worried about me and something happens to him.. I can't- I couldn't handle that."

Stiles frowned at her worriedly, pursing his lips in frustration. He lifted a hand from her shoulder to smooth down her tangled hair, securing it behind her ear gently and Amber leaned into the contact and closed her eyes.

Stiles sighed, "Okay."

She cracked her eyes open and looked at him, gripping onto his hand with her right one, "Can we please get out of this house?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." He agreed quickly, helping her to her feet with gentle hands, "Do you have a bag packed yet?"

She shook her head and Stiles nudged her through the doorway and toward the stairs, nodding his head and releasing her hand.

"Go," He told her gently, "Go pack a bag and I'll be right here, okay?"

"Okay." She agreed quietly.

When her feet didn't immediately obey and walk up the stairs, Stiles gave her another soft push and she took a deep breath before rushing to her bedroom.

She quickly threw things into a duffel bag in preparation to sleep at Stiles' house. She tossed pajamas, toiletries, and clothes for the following day into it carelessly. Grabbing her school bag, she pulled both bags over her shoulder before fleeing her bedroom and running back down the stairs.

When she came to a stop in the hallway that separated the staircase, the living room, and the kitchen, Stiles was nowhere to be seen.

"Stiles?" She called out worriedly, heart beating frantically in her chest.

The boy in question turned the corner from the living room and stepped in front of her. When he noticed the look of fear on her face and her panicked breathing, he moved closer.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked quickly.

She took a slow breath, forcing herself to calm down from her overreaction, "I-I came back down and your weren't right here and I thought-"

"I'm sorry." He apologized quickly. He reached up to take her bags, pulling them onto his own shoulder and grabbing her hand to tug her toward the front door, "C'mon, let's go. You really need to clean that cut."

She nodded and squeezed his hand tightly in hers as they stepped outside. She reluctantly released him when they got to the front of the vehicle and split off to climb in on opposite sides.

During the ride to the Stilinski house, Amber tilted her head to rest against the window. The cool glass against her temple was a welcome relief to the pounding headache lingering from the drugs. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into her hip every once in a while, and when they eventually came to a stop, she sighed gratefully.

The moment they were inside, Stiles pulled her upstairs and pushed her toward his bedroom. He dropped her bags in the doorway and rushed off in the direction of the bathroom. Amber had only made it a few steps over toward the bed before he re-emerged with a small first aid kid gripped in his hand.

He stepped toward her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, pushing her to sit down on the edge of the bed. He knelt down on the floor in front of her and positioned himself between her legs.

"Lemme look at it more closely?" He asked politely, his hands hesitating to lift up her shirt again.

She nodded with a frown and tugged the ruined shirt over her head, dropping it onto the bed beside her.

Stiles swallowed and looked at her bra-clad chest distractedly for a moment. Amber watched his tongue poke out to lick his lips and just as she was beginning to contemplate pulling him up by his shirt to kiss him, he seemed to suddenly snap out of it. He shook his head and moved to rest his hands gently on her hip and stomach, fingers prodding gently at the wound there.

She sucked in a sharp breath and he pulled back to dig through the small plastic box beside him for a moment. He wetted a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol and braced his left hand over her stomach again.

"This is definitely gonna sting." He warned, looking up at her before the cotton could make contact with her cut.

She nodded and pulled her lower lip into her mouth, urging him on.

He took a breath and wiped the damp cotton ball gently over the bloodied skin on her abdomen. She whined quietly at the sharp sting of the alcohol and reached out to wrap her hand around Stiles' left wrist. He removed his left hand from her stomach and tangled their fingers together quickly, allowing her to squeeze his hand tight as he continued to wipe the wound clean.

Once the blood had been cleared away, the cut didn't look nearly as gruesome as it had before. Stiles tossed the small pile of bloodied cotton balls into the garbage can beside the bed and leaned back onto his heels as he seemed to contemplate what to do next.

"D'you want me to put the suture bandages on now, or did you want to take a shower or anything first?" He asked, the thumb of his right hand rubbing softly along the top of her thigh.

"I think I wanna shower." She said quietly. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind, but now that he'd suggested it, she desperately craved the warm water over her skin.

Stiles nodded his approval and moved out from between her legs to give her room to stand up. He followed her into the hallway and went to the linen closet while she dug around in the medicine cabinet for a moment in search of painkillers for her head.

"Are you hungry?" He asked as he handed her a towel.

She shrugged, "Honestly, I- I'm kind of nauseous- From whatever she drugged me with." She admitted quietly.

He nodded, "Okay."

Once she'd been given her towel, Amber took a couple of aspirin and closed the bathroom door before moving to turn the hot water on.

She stripped out of her filthy jeans and removed her bra and underwear before climbing under the steaming spray. She tilted her head back and allowed the water to flow over her face as she held her breath, relishing in the warmth enveloping her.

Washing her hair with Stiles' nearly always full bottle of shampoo, she scrubbed vigorously at her scalp. When she lathered herself up with the body wash, the smell made her stomach flutter even as it dripped down into the cut across her abdomen and stung violently.

Once she was clean, she let herself slide down the shower wall until she was sitting on the floor of the tub. She pulled her knees into her chest and breathed in the cologne scented steam around her, taking long deep breaths until she felt herself begin to calm.

When she wrapped a towel around herself a few minutes later and made her way back into the bedroom, Stiles was sitting up on the bed doing homework, one pencil in his hand and another clenched between his teeth. Amber smiled softly at the sight of him and she hesitated in the doorway distractedly for a moment.

Stiles looked up after a few seconds and caught sight of her, the pencil in his mouth dropping to land in his lap silently as his mouth gaped. Amber stalked forward and grabbed her duffle from the floor to toss it onto the end of the bed, digging around for her pajamas even though it was barely four o'clock.

"D'you mind if I change in here?" She asked as she pulled out her clothing, "It's really steamy in the bathroom and now I'm all-"

"Hot."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his and she nodded slowly, "Yeah. I feel like if I go back in there to get changed I'm gonna burst out of my skin."

Stiles nodded silently, his eyes flicking over her slowly. After ten seconds had passed and he continued to distractedly nod his head, she shuffled on her feet.

"Okay, so can you just.. Put a pillow over your head or something?" She asked in amused confusion.

There was an audible click as Stiles' mouth snapped closed. He quickly grabbed a pillow from behind his back and pressed it over his face with both hands.

"I've been blinded." He announced.

"Thanks so much." She laughed, dropping her towel cautiously and pulling on her underwear.

She tugged on a pair of admittedly very short but also very soft pajama shorts along with an aged band tee that she'd cut off just above her belly button at some point over the years.

Once she was dressed, she tossed her bag back onto the floor and draped her damp towel over the back of the desk chair.

"All clear." She said as she flopped onto her back at the foot of the bed, laying horizontal from where Stiles was propped back against the headboard.

He dropped the pillow and moved his books off to the side of the bed before crawling to sit beside her.

"Did the shower help?" He asked, leaning over the side of the bed to pull the first aid kit up onto the bed.

She nodded her head against the mattress, watching him as he pulled out a box of bandages and began peeling off the wrappings.

He leaned forward slowly, his left hand settling over the fabric of her shorts before sliding up to brush gently over the gash at the bottom of her abdomen. Amber took a slow breath as he pinched the skin together and stuck the first suture to her clean skin. He slowly repeated the process, laying tiny bandages to hold the skin together until she looked down to see a neat row of little white stickies ensuring that the cut remained closed tightly.

"All done." Stiles told her as he collected all of the tiny wrappings to throw into the trash.

She watched as he leaned over the side of the bed to dispose of the garbage and slid the first aid kit along the floor before moving back to grab something from the bedside table, holding it out toward her.

She looked at the package as she took it from his outstretched hand and frowned in confusion, looking up to meet his gaze with a frown.

"I know you said you aren't hungry but then I was thinking about it and you probably haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and.. You had a salad, so." Stiles started quickly, "Well I went to look for saltines or something that would be easy on the stomach but we didn't have saltines. We did have those, though." He gestured to the plastic wrapper in her hands, "I figured graham crackers would probably be good too. Plus the sugar will help I think-"

She dropped the package of crackers into her lap and pulled him forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders, taking a shaky breath against the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." She told him, pulling back with butterflies fluttering annoyingly in her stomach, "You're probably right and I should definitely eat something."

Stiles broke into a gratified little smile at her praise and shrugged before moving to sit back where he'd been doing his homework.

Amber pulled open the packaging and snapped one of the crackers in half before munching on it slowly. She ate a couple as she watched Stiles work but stopped before she could overwhelm her empty stomach.

She crawled up the bed after a while to lay on the pillows beside where Stiles was sitting up and he looked down at her as she settled in comfortably. She blinked her suddenly heavy eyelids and yawned, looking up to watch him fiddle with his pencil and avert his gaze as he focussed on something across the room.

He sighed, "Hey, so.. Friday." Her eyes blinked more slowly and she heard his soft voice continue as she began to drift off, "D'you- d'you think maybe you'd want to go to formal? Like, together. As- As dates.. Incase that wasn't clear-"

But when Stiles risked a glance down at the girl beside him, she was fast asleep.

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