☾

After the parent-teacher conferences, Stiles has been texting me non-stop, wanting to get his mind off of things. A car backed up into his dad that night when everyone was freaking out because a mountain lion was in the parking lot. So he was texting me to get his mind off his anger towards Scott who apparently saved Allison but not his dad, a man he's known most of his life.

I'm more than happy to distract him, knowing how important his dad is to him. This morning, when he picked me up, he had ranted to me about how angry he is about Scott, while I just sat there and listened. I'm pretty mad at him, too. The Sheriff is a kind and good man, and Scott should've saved him. I know that Allison is quickly becoming my best friend, but this is my boyfriend's father. Someone Scott's known as long as he's known Stiles.

Nessa was a bit traumatized, getting lost in the chaos of everyone running and when she came home, she gave me a bone-crushing hug until I had trouble breathing. She hasn't hugged me like that in a long time, and I just wish it was because of different reasons instead of fear and relief.

Currently, we're sitting next to each other in History, and Stiles is smiling faintly as I fiddle with his fingers while we wait for the lesson to begin. His expression goes sour all of a sudden and he drops his hand to his lap, my eyes shifting over to see Scott standing near the door. Oh, boy, this is not going to go smoothly.

Scott walks over and sits behind Stiles, avoiding my gaze. "Still not talking to me?" He asks Stiles who ignores him, clenching his jaw.

No shit, Sherlock.

"Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? I mean, it's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage?" Stiles doesn't reply, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Nothing that big?"

Stiles steals a glance at me, his knee bouncing. I hope he doesn't explode from anger.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" No response again. "Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... That I went to Derek for help?"

Okay, I can't say anything about that because I may go to Derek for answers about what's happening to me.

"If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him," Stiles says, subtle venom lacing his tone. "But obviously I'm not talking to you."

I give him a weird look but I know he can't keep this up. He and Scott are best friends and Stiles is too curious for his own good so I know he's about to crack in...

Three...

Two...

One...

"What did he say?"

☾

"He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" I ask Scott as the three of us walk out of class, Scott and I flanking Stiles, who grabs my hand.

He's kinda big on PDA but I'm not complaining at all. I'm an affectionate person and I love the touchy-feely stuff and the PDA. Not that I'd tell him anytime soon. It just a little thing I like about him; how affectionate he is and isn't afraid of publicly displaying it. Not many guys do that unless it's to show dominance and possessiveness.

"Yeah," Scott answers.

"All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone's usually me," Stiles points out.

"I know," Scott replies. "That's why he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"Well, how's he gonna teach you to do that?" Stiles asks.

"I don't know. I don't think he does either."

"Okay, when are you seeing him again?" I ask him.

"Just told me not to talk about it," Scott responds. "Just act normal and get through the day."

"When?" Stiles asks shortly, stopping Scott with a hand on his chest.

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work," Scott gives in.

"After work. All right, well, that gives us to the end of the school day then," Stiles says vaguely.

"To do what?" Scott asks, confused.

"To teach you ourselves," Stiles replies, walking away and taking me with him.

☾

"The what of who?" Lydia asks Allison, holding up her fork. I left Scott and Stiles to meet up with Lydia and Allison in the cafeteria, and Allison started talking about a beast that has something to do with her family. I'm glad Lydia doesn't remember what happened when she was high on medication and it isn't awkward between us.

"The Beast of Gevaudan. Listen," Allison instructs, looking back to her book. "A quadruped-wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and South Dorgogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. La Bete killed over 100 people, becoming so infamous that King Louis XV sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it."

"Boring," Lydia declares while I'm on the edge of my seat, literally. It's actually quite interesting, to be honest.

"Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan."

"Hmm. Still boring."

"Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid."

"Slipping-into-a-coma bored."

"While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shape-shift into a man-eating monster."

"Any of this have anything to do with your family?" Lydia finally asks.

"This," Allison replies. "It is believed that La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature." She looks up at us with a smile, "His name was Argent."

"Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?" Lydia asks, not seeing the significance. Well, I do. I've learned the Argent's are werewolf hunters and one of her ancestors killed a serial killer wolf. Sound familiar?

"Not just a big wolf," Allison corrects. "Take a look at this picture. What does this look like to you?" She holds up the book and faces it to us, the picture making my heart skip a beat.

It's the Alpha. It looks exactly like the Alpha. The murderous red eyes and all. My eyes fixate on the illustration, heart racing as fear floods me at the reminder of my close-call with danger. The wounds on the back of my neck start to sting a little but I ignore it, focusing on the drawing.

"Guys," Allison says, breaking me out of my stupor. I look to Lydia to see she must've had the same reaction as me. Hopefully, she doesn't realize something about it.

"It looks like a big wolf. See you in History," she shrugs off with a smile, getting up and strutting away. I smile sheepishly and grab my bag and book, standing and give her an apologetic look.

"I gotta go, too," I say before turning around and walking over to the table Stiles and Scott are sitting at. The latter of the two is holding behind a World History book, making me roll my eyes.

"I think the book's making it more obvious," Stiles says, looking back and noticing me. Smiling faintly, he moves his backpack so I can sit down.

"Besides, she's reading, anyway," I add, placing my bag on the table and straightening my light blue sweater. I decided to dress comfortably today; the light blue sweater, black jeans, and my converses.

Scott peaks up but doesn't get rid of the book. Wow, he's pretty committed to avoiding Allison. I hope he doesn't hurt her because then it'll make me more annoyed with Scott.

"So, did you come up with a plan yet?" Scott asks.

"I think so," Stiles answers shortly, taking a bite out of his apple. I would eat the sandwich I brought with me but I know I wouldn't have any time.

"Does that mean you don't hate me now?" Scott inquires, hope coloring his voice.

"No," Stiles replies flatly. "But your crap has infiltrated our lives, so now we have to do something about it." I like how he's including me in this and isn't trying to keep me out if it. "Plus, I'm definitely a better Yoda than Derek," he adds.

A snort leaves my lips at that; of course, my dork of a boyfriend will somehow relate Star Wars to anything in life.

"Okay, yeah, you two teach me," he says, acknowledging me. Oh, wow, how wonderful it feels to be acknowledged. Note my sarcasm, please and thank you.

"Yeah, I'll be your Yoda," Stiles once again references Star Wars. That movie is in my top ten favorite movies as the second best. The first is Harry Potter.

"Yeah, you be my Yoda," Scott says, obviously not really getting the reference. Yep, Stiles was right when he said Scott's never seen them.

"Your Yoda I will be," Stiles says his previous words backward and in an odd voice, making me laugh. I can see Scott shaking his head behind the book, which Stiles notices. "I said it backwards," he explains at the same time as I said something similar.

"He said it backwards."

"I know," Scott nods, making me more annoyed.

"All right, you know what? I definitely still hate you," Stiles says, doing a deep and funny voice as he says, "Uh-huh. Oh, yeah." As he stands he takes the textbook and my hand with the other, pulling me up gently and I quickly grab my bag as we leave to initiate a plan I have no clue about.

☾

Stiles had told me about the plan when we were in Coach's office, stealing a heart rate monitor the track team uses and Coach's phone. We met up with Scott at the field outside during our free period which all three of us share, coincidentally, and Stiles has his lacrosse stick and the bag holding the stuff we stole including a bunch of lacrosse balls and a roll of duct tape.

Stiles and I plop down on a bench and he rummages through the bag. "Now..." he trails off, taking out the strap. "Put this on."

Scott takes it and looks confused, "Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" He asks.

"Yeah, we borrowed it," Stiles lies.

"Stole it," Scott corrects him.

"Temporarily misappropriated," Stiles and I correct him at the same time, but he continues. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

"Isn't that Coach's phone?" Scott asks.

"That we stole," I answer.

"Why?" He asks yet another question.

"All right," Stiles starts. "Well, your heart rate goes up when you wolf out, right?" Scott nods. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

Scott's face shows realization, smiling. "Like The Incredible Hulk."

Actually, it is kinda like that. "Kind of like The Incredible Hulk, yeah," I give in.

"No, I'm like The Incredible Hulk," Scott says and Stiles cuts him off.

"Would you shut up and put the strap on?"

After he puts it on, we walk out to the middle of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott's wrist together behind his back. I can't help but smirk faintly; this has to be a way to help Scott and for Stiles to get a little payback.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period," Scott comments sarcastically, turning around as Stiles backs up to where I am with the bag and lacrosse stick.

"All right. You ready?" Stiles asks, ignoring his comment.

"No," Scott says instantly.

"Remember, don't get angry," Stiles reminds him. He drops the bag and stick, clicking on the app on the phone.

"I'm starting to think this was a really bad idea," Scott says, watching as Stiles takes out a ball and drops it to the ground, scooping it up with the net of his stick, throwing it and it hits Scott's stomach.

He grunts and bends over in pain, groaning as he stands up straight. Stiles chuckles and I raise my eyebrows, glancing at him and biting my lower lip to suppress a grin.

The next one hits his clavicle, making him flinch back and another grunt leaves his lips. "Okay, that one kind of hurt."

"Quiet. Remember, you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm," Stiles reminds him. Oh, he's totally enjoying this.

The next one grazes his shoulder. "Stay calm. Staying calm. Staying totally calm." Another one hits his shoulder this time. "There's no balls flying at my face." Another to his other shoulder, to his stomach, and Scott swears loudly, "Son of a bitch!"

"You know what? I think my aim is actually improving," Stiles boasts.

"Wonder why."

"Ah, buh, buh. Don't get angry," Stiles reminds him, his heart rate now at one hundred and thirty. More fly at him until Stiles turns to me with a wicked grin. "Wanna try?" He asks. I nod eagerly and take the stick when he holds it out and I scoop up a ball, holding it up. Stiles stands behind me with a hand on my arm, guiding me a bit, and I launch the ball... And it hits him right in the balls.

Oh shit. Damn, I didn't actually mean to aim there...

He groans loudly, almost buckling over. "Whoo, that's my girl," Stiles praises with a smirk, taking back the stick and launching another ball. My cheeks go red, but I return to the task at hand.

"Stop. Just wait. Wait, just hold on," he stops when another hits his stomach, and he falls to his knees, grunting and huffing.

His fast and loud heartbeat rings in my ears, making my eyes widen and look down at the phone as it beeps wildly. It's quickly rising from one hundred and sixty. Stiles crouches down and picks it up, glancing towards Scott.

"Scott?" He asks but doesn't get an answer, instead, Scott rips through the duct tape and leans his forearms against the ground, groaning. Then, the numbers decrease, his heartbeat slowing down gradually. We quickly go over to him, and I'm actually concerned right now, forgetting my annoyance with him momentarily. "Scott, you started to change," Stiles points out the obvious. Scott moves to lay down on the ground, face scrunched up in pain; okay, maybe we enjoyed this too much.

"From anger," Scott pants. "But it was more than that. It was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So it is anger, then. Derek's right," I sum up.

"I can't be around Allison," Scott heaves out.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles asks.

"No, because she makes me weak."

☾

"Let's go. Sit, sit, sit, sit. We got a lot to cover today. Let's go," I hear Coach say as I walk into Econ, right in front of Scott and Stiles... And Allison.

"Hey, Stiles, sit behind me, dude," Scott whispers and Stiles goes to sit there but Allison gets there first. I smile sadly at Stiles and sit in front of him, watching the train wreck next to us as we take a seat and the couple greets each other almost awkwardly. However, I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips when I feel Stiles start to fiddle with the ends of my hair from behind me.

"I haven't seen you all day," Allison says.

"Uh, yeah," Scott says lamely. "I've been super busy." He isn't lying though.

"When are you gonna get your phone fixed?" She asks. "I feel like I'm totally disconnected from you."

"Uh, soon. Real soon," he answers.

"I changed lab partners, by the way," she informs him.

"To who?"

"To you, dummy."

"Me? I mean, are you sure?"

"Yeah," she says. "This way I have an excuse to bring you home to study."

"Oh," Scott says quietly.

Allison notices that. "You don't mind do you?"

"I just... I don't want to bring your grade down."

"Well, I mean, maybe I can bring your grade up. Come to my place tonight. Eight-thirty?"

"Tonight?"

"Eight-thirty."

I jump a little when Coach slams a textbook on top of a pile of textbooks, gaining the student's attention. "Let's settle down. Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading."

Instantly I raise my hand, remembering nearly every detail of the reading we had to do last night. "Greenberg put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. You, too, Archer." I tentatively retract my hand, cheeks heating up when I hear a quiet snicker from behind me, no doubt it was Stiles. "How about, uh... McCall."

"What?" Scott asks, snapping out his thoughts.

"The reading," Coach says, leaning against his desk.

"Last night's reading?" He reiterates and it's obvious that he didn't do the reading. Oh, boy, this isn't gonna end well.

"How about the reading of The Gettysburg Address?" Coach asks sarcastically.

Some people laugh as Scott asks, "What?" again.

"That's sarcasm. You familiar with the term 'sarcasm,' McCall?"

I turn my head to see Stiles looking very proud and self-satisfied when Scott answers, "Very." I smirk at him, turning my head back to the front.

"Did you do the reading or not?" He asks a little impatiently.

"Um... I think I forgot."

"Nice work, McCall. It's not like you're not averaging a 'D' in this class. Come on, buddy. You know I can't keep you on the team if you have a 'D'. How about you summarize the previous night's reading."

Beeping fills my ears, making me turn my head to see Stiles holding Coach's phone. His heartbeat's rising, it's resonating in my ears, along with the beeping. He does not need to turn in front of Coach and a class full of teenagers.

"No? How about the night before that? How about you summarize anything you've ever read in your entire life?" He asks loudly, getting ticked off already.

"I..." Scott trails off, flustered.

Coach starts again. "No? A blog? How about... How about the back of a cereal box? No? How about the adults-only-warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything? Thank you, McCall. Thank you, McCall! Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation. You just blew it for everybody. Thanks. Next practice you can start with suicide runs. Unless that's too much reading."

Then, his heartbeat slows down, the beeping as well. What the.... My eyes fall onto Allison and Scott's joined hands.

Allison. She anchors Scott to his humanity.