THIS MEANS WAR
(REWRITTEN)

THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL, Carter had been extremely wary and anxious.

    After last night, she didn't know what was going to happen—Lydia was coming back to school—Jackson's body was still fighting the bite—and then there was the ever growing pile of questions about the somewhat random occurrences when wounds, which weren't her own, would appear on her body. The revelation raised the likeliness of her having to go through immense degrees of pain; if more strange things were going to be happening to her, she really needed to reconsider going back to Canada.

    Speaking of her Alpha older brother, she had yet to speak to him, or even see him—he would periodically stop by her apartment, most of the time using the key he made for himself—never actually being around when she was awake. But, she always knew when he came over; there would be a mess of food and dishes in the kitchen; a wet towel in the bathroom and boot prints imprinted upon the linoleum by the front door. He had told her, though, where he was staying: in an abandoned subway station that looked less sanitary to stand in let alone sleep in.

    Carter knew that her brother never liked having nice material things, never believing thought he deserved the right of sleeping in a warm bed under a sturdy roof. Despite the distance, he had always gotten her nice things that he knew she would never need them.

    That was one of the many things that people didn't know about Derek; he was completely and utterly selfless. It might not always show on his cold exterior, but it was constantly present just beneath the surface of his hardened features. And it was that which made her think that Scott was exactly the person that Derek used to be...how he was before the fire. Even when she was ten and still blind to the danger in her future, she had always admired Derek. The siblings were practically inseparable from the moment Carter was born. But things change—people die—all lives come to an end.

    She had learned that the hard way.

    "You really don't remember anything?" Allison asked. The three girls climbing up the stone steps leading to the school, her voice finally pulling Carter out of her thoughts as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

    Lydia fumbled with the light brown leather jacket in her arms. "They called it a fugue state," she explained, her mood suddenly becoming dapper as she told them. Carter had already heard the entire story because she had been there when the doctor's told the strawberry-blonde the news, the girl not letting her new-found brunette friend leave her side. "Which is basically a way of saying: "We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days."" The two brunette girls abruptly halted in their place when Lydia whirled around to stand in front of them. "But, personally, I don't care - I lost nine pounds."

    "Are you ready for this?"

    "Please," Lydia stated with a slight smirk, "it's not like my aunt's a serial killer who murdered my new-friend's entire family."

    And with that, Lydia pulled open the door and strolled into the building. Carter and Allison were a little taken aback by the girl's comment. And she noticed how Allison's face fell—the words causing her heart to clench in her chest—the huntress had to admit that the jab hurt more than Lydia probably had intended it to. Carter bit her lip, watching as Allison took a deep breath before following Lydia into the school with Carter on her heels. Though, the two brunettes didn't three steps in the building before they were once again stopped by the strawberry-blonde. Carter peered around Allison's shoulder to see that Lydia's feet seemed to be glued to the floor. Carter opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself when she saw the reason that caused Lydia to stop. The entire hallway was filled with a mass of gaping students.

    Carter then realized that the students weren't staring at them but Lydia, and her sympathy went out to the strawberry-blonde. Carter had heard several things being said about Allison's aunt when she had died—she could only image what they were saying about Lydia.

    Lydia looked a little distressed at all of the attention that was on her in that moment. Allison gently nudged her with her elbow and said: "Maybe it's the nine pounds."

    She pulled her lips into her mouth, straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath before flicking her bangs off her forehead, sauntering down the hallway.

○ ○ ○

    "Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Carter asked. "I mean, from what you guys have told me, the boy doesn't seem like wolf material."

    The three of them were sitting in Chemistry, Scott having just told her what happened at the lacrosse practice that morning. And apparently, Derek had bitten and turned a sophomore boy by the name of Isaac Lahey—who's father had been murdered the night before. From what Stiles gathered, the police were detaining the boy as a suspect in his own father's murder because, supposedly, they had evidence—or a witness—that Mr. Lahey had been physically abusing his son for years. That would explain the cut that appeared on my face last night, she thought.   

    Stiles looked over at her. "Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you, it could kill you." He said, causing her to nod in agreement. "And maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

    Carter pursed her lips for a moment, "I don't know much about bitten werewolves—all the werewolves in my family were born-wolves."

    "Does being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?" Scott asked, hope filling his eyes.

    "Well, not unless they have solid evidence. Or a witness. Wait—" Stiles broke off, whirling around in his seat to face the lab table behind them. The table that was normally occupied by Danny and Jackson. "Danny," he called out in a harsh whisper. The lacrosse-goalie looked up from his paper. "Where's Jackson?"

    "In the principal's office talking to your dad," Danny said.

    "What? Why?"

    Danny gave Stiles a look. "I don't know—maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac."

    "Witness," Carter and Scott replied simultaneously; the pair glanced at one another.

    Stiles quickly turned back to face the pair. "We've got to get to the principal's office."

    "How?"

    Carter smirked, causing the two boys to give one another wary glances. "I've got an idea."

    "Is it gonna make us regret becoming friends with you?" Stiles asked.

    "Possibly."

    Harris finally stopped writing on the black board; his back still facing the class. "Everyone please turn to page seventy-three."

    Carter bit her lip as she silently—as possible—balled up the piece of notebook paper she had been mindlessly doodling on. She reared back, set her aim, and fired it right at the back of Harris' head.The entire class erupted with laughter, watching as the paper ball bounced lifelessly off his head and fell to the floor. The laughing instantly ceased when Harris turned around to face the class.

    "Who in the hell did that?" He demanded.

    Carter and Scott and Stiles all pointed accusing fingers at one another; knowing all too well what was going to happen next.

○ ○ ○

    "Hey, sorry, Harris literally just let us out of detention. Literally. And he had our phones the entire freakin' time."

    The first thing Stiles and Carter did—after they finally got out of detention—they checked their phones and saw that they were blowing up with unread texts and missed calls from Allison and a couple from Scott. The only good thing that came out of the stupidly long detention was that Carter had managed to finish her book report. As soon as they made it outside, Stiles quickly called Allison while Carter lagged behind, having to stop and tie her shoe.

    She jogged to catch up with him, reaching him just in time for him to put the phone of speaker. "Well, we need to do something right now. They were asking me all these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter. And they were asking about Carter, wondering if she had turned into a werewolf. And then they sent this guy out—"

    "Wait, Allison—what guy?" Carter burst out, pressing herself into Stiles' side so that Allison could hear her better.

    "He was dressed as a Sheriff's deputy."

    Carter glanced up at Stiles. "They're sending him to the station for Isaac."

    "He was also carrying this box with something on it. Like a, um, like a carving or something."

    Stiles frowned at her.

    "What was it?"

    "Hold on, hold on. It's in one of these books." Allison said, and Carter could hear the sound of pages being rapidly flipped. "I'm taking a picture." Stiles' phone dinged, signaling that he had received a message, they both looked at the picture and Carter rolled her eyes. "Did you get it?"

    "Yeah, wolfsbane," Carter replied, closing her eyes as she bit down on her tongue.

    Allison hesitated before she asked: "What does that mean?"

    Carter rubbed at the bridge of her nose for a moment before running her fingers through her dark hair. "It means they're going to kill him."

    It hadn't taken them long to come up with a plan—and before she knew it, they were on their way to the Sheriff's Station. Allison told them that she would take the task of distracting the hunter for as long as possible. And when Carter got shoved into the backseat of Stiles' Jeep, she hadn't exactly been happy or comfortable—especially when she was forced into the back because of Derek.

    She couldn't hold her tongue any longer, she leaned forward in the seat and spoke.

    "You know this is your fault, right? And why are you just running around biting people like they're not causing serious problems for the rest of us? Did you lose your brain while I was gone?" Carter barked with a cold laugh. Ever since she had come back to Beacon Hills, their relationship had been on the rocks. They were fighting more and more each day and it seemed like the secrets and lies just kept piling on top of one another.

    Derek turned to look at her, but didn't even bother justifying her snarls with a response. But now that they were parked outside the police station, they had to reconsider actually being civil and talking to each other. They would never get Isaac out if they didn't.

    "Okay, now, the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father's office," Stiles explained, looking over at Derek. "The problem is getting past the front desk."

    "I'll distract her," Derek retorted, moving to open the passenger door, but was stopped when Stiles quickly protested; grabbing a hold of the man's bicep.       

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa—you? You're not going in there." Derek looked down at Stiles' hand as if it were a snake that was prepared to hinge back and bite him. His eyes flickering up and down until Stiles finally got the point and yanked his hand away. "I'm taking my hand off."

    "I was exonerated."

    "You're still a person of interest."

    "An innocent person," Derek corrected, risking a glance back at Carter. Her nostrils flared in anger while Stiles snorted out a laugh.

    "An inno—you? Yeah, right!" Stiles continued to cackle but cut it short when Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

    "To distract her..." Derek drawled.

    "Uh-huh, how?" Stiles snarled, raising his eyebrows. "By punching her in the face?" His top lip pulled back and let out something that was a pathetic attempt at a growl; Carter rolled her eyes at the two  of them.

    Derek smiled mockingly. "Heh—by talking to her."

    "Okay, all right. Give me a sample. What are you going to open with?" Stiles said. Derek rose a dark eyebrow and stared at Stiles with obvious irritation. It was clear that neither of them liked one another very much. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

    Derek nodded. "I'm thinking about punching you in the face."

    Carter rolled her eyes. "Okay, you two can put your dicks away—this pissing contest is over. Now, grow up and get out."

    Derek and Stiles huffed, but did as advised. Derek slammed the door a bit harder than necessary, Carter rolling over the seat to get out. Stiles mumbling under his breath about all the possibilities of this plan ending horribly for all of them. Carter sighed and slapped her hand over his mouth—feeling the boy's lips continue to mouth beneath her palm—as Derek walked through the door. The teenagers watching as the older werewolf leaned against the counter and grinned down at the woman.

    "Good evening, how can I help—you?" the policewoman asked as she looked Derek up and down with a smirk. The 'you' coming out more flirtatious that the previous words had been. Stiles tilted his head while Carted made a gagging face. The last thing she wanted was to watch her older brother get hit on.

    "Hi," Derek smiled sweetly. "Um, I have a question. Uh—sorry, I'm a little...a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone—"

    "Like me?" she asked.

    Derek chuckled. "I was going to say: so incredibly beautiful—but, yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing."

    Carter rolled her eyes at her brother's lame flirting tactic when Stiles grabbed her wrist. The pair crouching down low enough until they were behind the woman and in the Sheriff's office. Once completely inside, Carter turned and carefully make sure the door was left slightly cracked. Stiles moved toward the key lockbox that was mounted on the wall, typing in the code as Carter appeared at his side. When he removed the metal cover, they were greeted with an empty box.

    Stiles quickly made his way back out into the hallway with Carter following behind him as they started to search for the deputy that had somehow beaten them there. Stiles abruptly stopped after rounding a corner causing Carter to slam into his back. She stepped back, rubbing her nose to see that a deputy was blocking their way.

    "Whoa—sorry," Stiles apologized. "Just looking for—"

    Their eyes widened as they glanced down at the arrow protruding out of the deputy's thigh.

    He was the hunter.

    "Oh, sh—"

    But before Stiles could even finish, the man grabbed him and covered Stiles' mouth with his hand. Carter opened her mouth toe scream, knowing Derek would hear it. The hunter cut her off: "Scream for your brother and I'll snap his neck. Follow me!"

    Carter swallowed thickly, and nodded her head once before following the man as he began to forcefully drag Stiles down the corridor. She could hear her heart beating louder and louder, causing her head to throb. Suddenly, something bright red flashed across her line-of-sight—catching her attention. A fire alarm. She lunged toward it and pulled the lever down—the harshness of the ringing bell filled the station.

    The deputy paid it no mind, just continued to drag Stiles until they reached the room where the holding cells were located—only to find that the cell door had been busted open from the inside.

    Carter fell down next to Stiles when Isaac appeared out of nowhere and began to advance on the hunter. And they were narrowly trying to avoid getting torn to shreds as Isaac gripped onto the hunter, throwing him down onto the desk. Stiles grabbed her waist, the two crawling their way behind the abandoned desk. She watched in shock as Isaac grabbed the man's wrist, making it impossible for him to keep his grip on the wolfsbane filled syringe.

    She could practically feel his rage as he bashed the hunter's head against the wall, snarling as the man's body slid down the length of the wall and fell into a heap of unconsciousness at his feet. The next second, he whirled around to face Stiles and Carter; her eyes widened as he began to stalk closer.

    But, before he could even get near them, Derek appeared and stomped his heel on the syringe. Isaac moved forward toward Carter and Stiles, but Derek stepped in front of the boy. He let out a roar laced with his Alpha tremor. Suddenly, an intense pain erupted in her skull. She cried out, hands frantically gripping the sides of her head as it felt as though all of the blood vessels in her brain were popping. Like stove-top popcorn; erratically popping until the foil-wrapping explodes.

    She was first aware of the cool hands touching her. Arms holding her, a palm curved to fit her cheek, fingers beginning to stroke her forehead. She could scarcely make out the lines of Stiles' face; black spots danced before her eyes.

    She drifted off.

○ ○ ○

not edited

well, this is the rewritten version of the second chapter. i know it's been a long time since ive updated these chapters, ive just been so busy. and, every time i look at the writing in this book, i physically cringe. it's so badddd. anywho, i hope this chapter is wayyyy better than the original!