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Scott McCall flinched at the sudden sound of his gym bag being kicked. The sound jolted him from the fog of his thoughts, but only briefly. His frown returned almost instantly like a cloud settling back over his face. He hadn't even noticed how long he'd been standing there, lost in his own mind until he saw his sister's shadow looming over him.

Octavia stood with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp and unwavering, her annoyance practically radiating off her.

"Did you apologize to Allison yet?" she asked, her tone edged with frustration. Her new friend not only had feelings for her brother but said brother just had to get bitten by a freaking werewolf.

Scott barely nodded, his voice a distant echo of itself. "Yeah."

Stiles, who Scott hadn't registered was there, glanced between the two of them, sensing the tension. He knew Scott's one-word answer wouldn't satisfy Octavia. Hell, it didn't even satisfy him.

"And... is she going to forgive you, or...?" Stiles trailed off, hoping to draw more out of his friend.

Another weak nod. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked again, a hopeful grin forming on his face. "So everything's good?"

But Scott shook his head. "No."

The single word hung in the air. Octavia's jaw tightened, her brows knitting together."No?" she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "What do you mean no?"

Scott still hadn't looked at either of them. "Remember... the hunters? Her dad is one of them."

There was a beat of silence, the air around them growing heavier. "Her dad—" Octavia began, but Scott cut her off.

"—Shot me."

"Allison's father?"

"—With a crossbow."

"Allison's father—" Stiles tried to make sense of it, but Scott's words kept rushing out.

"Yes, her father!" Scott snapped, his panic bubbling over as the reality of everything came crashing down again. "Oh my God..."

Stiles was at his side instantly, his gloved hands patting Scott's face. "No, Scott." He patted Scott's cheeks in hopes of gaining his attention. "Snap back."

Scott's breath came in shallow bursts, but he forced himself to meet Stiles' eyes. He nodded shakily, though the fear still lingered beneath the surface.

"Did he recognize you?" Octavia asked.

Scott swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to the piercing gaze of Allison's father. The cold, detached precision of a hunter. "No. No, I don't think so."

"Good," Octavia replied, though her voice lacked comfort. Stiles nodded beside her, both of them sharing a look of relief. "That's good."

But then Stiles asked the question that turned Scott's stomach into knots all over again. "Does she know about him?"

The realization hit Scott like a slap. The idea that Allison, sweet and kind Allison, his Allison, could be involved in this twisted world of hunters and werewolves was too much to process. "I... I don't know." His voice wavered, the panic creeping back into it. "I don't know! What if she does? This is gonna kill me, man."

"We'll figure it out," Octavia told her brother. "It'll be okay."

The whistle signaling the start of lacrosse practice wasn't helping their nerves. Stiles scrambled to grab Scott's gear, shoving it into his arms. "Okay just focus on lacrosse, okay? Here, Scott. Take this. Take this and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta do, yeah?"

"Lacrosse," Scott repeated, his voice hollow. The word felt distant as if it belonged to someone else.

"Here. We. Go." Stiles clapped him on the shoulder between each word before dashing off toward the field, his nerves making him trip halfway there.

Octavia snorted despite the tension, flashing him two sarcastic thumbs up. "Nice one."

"I meant to do that!"

The café was quiet, the dim light casting warm shadows on the walls. Strings of fairy lights gave the place a soft glow, and the quiet hum of low music filled the space. Octavia stood behind the counter, sipping her decaf tea and flipping through her copy of Little Women. It was her favorite time of night—peaceful, slow.

The bell above the door jingled, and in walked Stiles, looking like he'd been run over by a truck. Octavia raised an eyebrow, tucking her bookmark into the pages. "You look like hell," she said bluntly. "Rough practice?"

"Your brother almost killed Jackson," Stiles whispered, leaning over the counter like he was sharing some classified intel. "Then, he almost killed me. I had to spray him with a fire extinguisher."

Octavia blinked. "Did Jackson cry?"

"Probably," Stiles said, exasperated. "I didn't stick around long enough to check. Had to get Scott outta there before he turned into a full-on rage monster."

Octavia chuckled softly, grabbing a tea bag. "That's too bad. I would've liked to see Jackson shed a tear or two." She brewed a raspberry tea and handed it over to Stiles. "So, what brings you here?"

Stiles sipped his drink, a grin tugging at his lips. "Figured with a monstrous beast on the loose, you could use a ride home."

She raised a brow. "And your plan to protect me is...?"

"I plan on driving really fast," he said with mock confidence. "Like, ridiculously fast."

Octavia smirked, crossing her arms. "Can that piece of junk you outside even handle that?"

"You could always walk," he teased. "Maybe the werewolf'll take pity on you for being pretty."

She rolled her eyes, a smile creeping up. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Pretty insufferable," he shot back, grinning.

Octavia arrived home with a clear mission: get as much information about Jackson's injury from Lydia as possible, then quickly debrief Scott and Stiles. She gave Stiles a mock salute as he said he'd video chat the twins once he got home.

"You're not... on drugs, right?" She heard her mother ask Scott, following it up with an awkward laugh.

"Right now?" Octavia bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

"Right now?" Melissa echoed in shock. "Wait, what do you mean 'right now'? Have you ever taken drugs?" She glanced nervously between Octavia and Scott. "Have you?"

"Just my Zoloft." Octavia shrugged.

"Have you?" Scott turned to his mom, bewildered.

Melissa stared at her son, speechless, before throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Just... get some sleep."

After a hot shower, Octavia entered Scott's room, dressed in her comfiest clothes; the oversized sweater she wore swallowed her frame. She moved next to Scott, her presence both a comfort and a tension as the faint hum of Stiles' incoming video call filled the room.

She stood next to Scott as they answered Stiles' video call. Stiles greeted them by pretending to shoot the screen with a plastic toy gun. The lights of the gun flashing and Stiles sported a goofy grin.

"What did you find out?" Scott asked his sister. The strain in his voice told Octavia that he was in no mood for Stiles' antics, but she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips.

"Is it bad?" Stiles asked Octavia.

"Jackson's got a separated shoulder." She winced, recalling Danny's recount. "He cried. A little."

"Because of me?" Scott's voice was laced with guilt.

"Because he's a tool," Stiles scoffed.

"Is he still going to play?"

"They're not sure yet," Octavia responded. The screen flickered, pixelating as Stiles' image distorted for a moment. But they're counting on you for Saturday," Octavia finished, her voice quiet as Scott's sigh echoed the heaviness between them.

The decision looming over him wasn't just about the game—it was about the growing danger, the line between human and something darker.
Octavia's eyebrows scrunched together as she watched Stiles lean in closer to the screen.

"Stiles?" She asked. His head slowly lifted to look at the twins on screen.

'It looks like.' The screen froze, leaving the twins to look at the rainbow wheel, which was taunting them by spinning.

Her brow furrowed as she squinted at the screen, but then she saw something—no, someone—standing just behind Scott in the reflection. Her heart stumbled. "Scott..." Her whisper barely escaped her lips as the figure sharpened into view.

Derek.

The air in the room changed, thickening and turning cold. Octavia's breath hitched in her throat, her pulse quickening. Fear clenched her heart in an icy grip as Derek's shadow loomed larger. Scott remained oblivious, his body tense but unaware of the danger just behind him.
The fear rose swiftly, constricting her chest. Derek's dark, predatory eyes locked onto her, daring her to move, to speak. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, to do something, anything, but she was paralyzed, drowning in the intensity of the moment. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, loud and erratic, drowning out all other sounds.

She was sinking—sinking into panic, into helplessness. Focus, Octavia. She could almost hear Lydia's voice, coaxing her out of the darkness, guiding her through the techniques she had taught her. Breathe.

She forced herself to follow the rhythm: inhale... hold... exhale. Slowly, her mind cleared, the fog lifting enough to see through her fear.

Derek's voice pierced the silence, low and menacing, as he threatened Scott's life with every word. Scott flinched as Derek's grip tightened, his claws digging into Scott's shirt before finally letting him go. Scott crumpled, gasping for air.

But before Derek turned to leave, his gaze flicked to Octavia. Something flickered in his eyes for a fleeting second—something softer, almost sympathetic—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her unnerved.

Scott slid down the wall, his breath ragged as he met her gaze. "Are you okay?" They asked simultaneously.
"Yeah."

"Stiles, I told you I'm fine," Octavia answered the phone, exasperation threading through her voice. This was the third call in the past hour, and she had run out of ways to convince him.

"I can see you moping," he countered, his tone smug.

Her brows knit together as she instinctively turned to her window. There he was—Stiles Stilinski—grinning like a kid up to no good. He waved with exaggerated enthusiasm, holding up a crinkled 7-11 bag. Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips.

She opened the window, letting in a cool evening breeze. "Stiles, what are you doing?"

"I know you well enough to know you're not fine, Birdie. So I brought your favorite snacks..." He dug into the bag dramatically, pulling out a bag of Sour Patch Kids and a pint of her go-to ice cream. "...and a couple of classic rom-coms: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and 13 Going on 30." His grin stretched wider, proud of his selection.

Octavia shook her head, half-amused, half-incredulous. "Did you do all this for Scott, too?" Her eyes sparkled as she cleared the path for him to climb in through the window.

"No." He scoffed, clambering over the ledge with surprising grace. "First off, he's not nearly as pretty as you, and second, he has the ability to literally bite my head off. I, personally, like having my head attached to my body."

She plopped onto her bed, the mattress creaking softly under her weight. "You really didn't have to do this, you know. I promise I'm fine."

Stiles settled beside her, his expression softening. "You want to know how I know that's not true?"

"Oh, please. Enlighten me, Stilinski." She crossed her arms, feigning disinterest, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her affection for his antics.

"Your voice quivers when you say 'fine.' It goes all high-pitched like it's... shaken. It happens a lot when you lie." He tilted his head, watching her closely. His usual lightheartedness slipped for a moment, replaced by a rare seriousness.

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Very observant. Ever thought about a career in law enforcement?"

"Oh, totally. Women love a man in uniform."

Octavia couldn't help but laugh. "And what girl are you planning to impress, exactly?"

"Maybe I'll tell you one day," he replied, his tone playfully cryptic as he plopped beside her.

She rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I'm at the edge of my seat."

He glanced down at her, grinning. "You're actually lying on the bed."

"And this is why you need a uniform to get a girl."

Stiles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "If making fun of me makes you happy, then I'd let you do it for the rest of our lives."

Octavia nudged him with her leg, shaking her head with a laugh. "See? That could be a solid pick-up line."

Stiles blinked, as if genuinely considering it. "You think so?"

"Just put the movie on, you dork." She tossed the remote into his lap, her smile lingering as the room filled with an easy, familiar comfort.

Octavia paced through the hallways to her locker; she halted, spotting her brother and Stiles awkwardly poking their heads around the corner into the opposite hall.

"What are you two idiots doing?" she asked, startling Stiles in the process. His hand flew to his chest, and he shot her an exaggerated glare while Scott waved a hand at her, signaling for quiet.

Scott's eyes remained fixed ahead, focused on the small staircase down the hall, his jaw clenched. "Curfew because of the body," he murmured.

Stiles patted Scott's arm before flinging his arms wide in frustration. "Unbelievable," he huffed. "My dad's out looking for a rabid animal while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doing whatever he wants."

Octavia folded her arms across her chest, her gaze shifting between them. "Well, you can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. She knew they were all caught in a web of secrets, but it didn't stop her from feeling trapped.

Stiles looked at her, defiant. "I can do something."

The twins exchanged a look, eyebrows raised in unison. "Like what?" Octavia challenged, her skepticism clear. She knew Stiles had a habit of throwing himself into trouble without thinking, and it made her uneasy.

"Find the other half of the body," Stiles suggested with determination before walking away.

"Are you kidding?" Scott called after him.

"I'm afraid he isn't," Octavia muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she turned her attention back to her brother.
But Scott wasn't listening. His gaze drifted to the far end of the hallway where Lydia was introducing Allison to one of the lacrosse players.

Octavia followed his line of sight, recognizing the familiar pang of jealousy in her brother's tense posture. The guy—Tim? Jim? She couldn't remember—it had been a failed matchmaking attempt by Lydia the year before.

Octavia cringed at the memory of the disastrous double date, the hours of awkward conversation and fake laughs. The guy had been as dull as a brick, and Lydia's attempts to push her into some sort of romance had felt like slow torture.

Scott's gaze didn't waver, and Octavia could practically feel the waves of jealousy radiating off him. It was thick in the air like a storm waiting to break.

"I'm just gonna...get to class," she said, raising a brow at her brother but keeping her tone light. She didn't need werewolf powers to sense the tension rolling off him.

The blurred figure of Stiles shot past Octavia as he raced into the McCall residence, barreling up the stairs to Scott's room. Sitting on her bed with a math book in her lap, Octavia couldn't help but find his chaotic energy far more captivating than the math equations in front of her.

"If you ran like that on the field, maybe you'd actually get to play," she called out, half-joking.

Ignoring her, Stiles burst into the room, his eyes wide with urgency. "What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?" he fired off, blinking rapidly. The twins exchanged amused glances; Stiles added, "And, yes, I've had a lot of Adderall, so..."

"I found something at Derek Hale's," Scott informed the two.

Octavia's brow furrowed as Stiles gasped. "You saw him without me?" she exclaimed, a hint of envy creeping into her tone. "He's so hunky—I'd let him bite me."

"Ignore her," Stiles said, playfully pushing her face away with his hand. "What did you find?"

Scott stood from his bed, a severe look crossing his face. "There's something buried out there. I could smell blood."

"That's awesome!" Stiles blurted out, then shot Octavia an apologetic look as she shot him a disapproving glare. "I mean, that's terrible. Whose blood?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted as he stood from his bed. "But when we do, your dad nails Derek for murder. And then you guys help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing because there's no way I'm missing that game."

"Call me crazy," Octavia said as they moved toward the door, "but I still don't think Derek did it."

"That's crazy," Scott replied.

"Insane, actually," Stiles scoffed, shaking his head.

The trio moved cautiously through the stark hallways of the hospital. The faint hum of machinery and the distant echo of muffled voices created a strange dissonance that made each footstep feel louder than it was. Octavia led the way with confidence, but there was an unease in her eyes. She had spent countless hours volunteering here, but always in the familiar warmth of the pediatrics ward, surrounded by life and laughter. Or she was bringing her mother lunch and gossiping at the nurses' station.

This was different.

Her pulse quickened as they neared the heavy double doors leading to the morgue, a place she'd deliberately avoided until now. The sterile air seemed to chill as she pointed down the hall, her voice tight. "It's that way."

Scott departed from the small group, giving them a nod as he walked through the doors.

"Hey, I'm gonna find my mom real quick," she said, lifting the lunch bag she'd packed. "Stay put and keep an eye out?"

Stiles nodded, flashing a thumbs-up as he headed to the waiting area. His gaze landed on a girl with familiar strawberry-blonde hair, and he leaned against the reception desk, nerves brewing inside him.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles pushed off the desk and sauntered over. "Hey, Lydia," he greeted, adopting a casual stance against the wall. "You probably don't remember me, but I sit behind you in biology."

Stiles was met with a confused look as the girl played with her hair, "Uh, anyways, I'm also friends with Octavia. Like, as long as you two have." Lydia didn't respond, but her face formed a surprised expression, urging the boy to go on, "Yeah, I don't know if she's ever mentioned me. Maybe she has—"

"Hold on," she began as she tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing the Bluetooth headset. "Give me a second." She removed the headset before turning her attention back to Stiles. "I didn't catch any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?"

Stiles let out a nervous chuckle, "No. Sorry, I'll just sit...You don't care..."

"Hey!" It wasn't long before a voice broke through the tension, pulling Stiles' gaze upward. Octavia stood there, her arm outstretched, a lollipop in her hand, and a mischievous grin lighting up her face. "I scored these from one of the pediatric doctors. Don't tell Scott, though. Doctor Myers only—" She paused, eyeing the pamphlet in Stiles' grasp. "What are you reading?"

Stiles felt heat rush to his cheeks as he fumbled with the brochure on the menstrual cycle. "I was just—"

"I don't think I even want to know."

Before he could respond, Scott approached and snatched the pamphlet from Stiles, His eyes widening in surprise. "Holy God!" he exclaimed.

"The scent was the same," Scott said, urgency thrumming in his voice.

"Are you sure?" Stiles shot up from his seat, adrenaline coursing through him.

"Yes." Scott's eyes were dark with determination.
Stiles let out a heavy sigh, trying to process the chilling implications. "So, he really did bury the other half of the body on his property."

"Which means we have proof that he killed the girl," Scott replied.

Octavia felt doubt churning in her gut. The dark, brooding man they were discussing was undeniably unsettling, but part of her resisted the idea that he could be a killer. He was terrifying and troubled, but she didn't sense the vibe of a murderer lurking beneath the surface. Still, she trusted Scott completely. If he believed the stranger from the woods was dangerous, Octavia knew she had to stand by her brother—no matter what.

Octavia had politely declined the offer to head back into the woods and dig for the missing half of a corpse. Her exact words were, "Stiles, I am far too pretty to be digging in the dirt, and I just got a manicure." She showcased her now perfectly polished nails, which sealed the argument.

But when it came to watching Derek Hale get dragged away by the cops? That she wasn't going to miss.

Standing beside her brother by the Jeep, she watched the sheriff and his deputy haul Derek—tall, scowling, and cuffed—towards the cruiser. The headlights threw long shadows across the clearing, casting the whole scene in a cold, eerie light that made everything seem more real, more dangerous.

"I still don't think he did it," Octavia muttered, arms crossed, her posture casual as if she were watching a game rather than a man about to lose his freedom. She leaned back against the hood, eyes flickering between Derek and her brother, gauging his reaction.

Scott, however, looked as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. Guilt etched every line of his face as he stared at the cuffs around Derek's wrists. "I know," he admitted, voice low. "But there's too much evidence against him. They'll never believe us."

Octavia nodded, lips twitching in a half-smile as she saw Stiles slipping through the trees. She nudged her brother with her elbow. "What is he doing?"

Scott barely had time to turn around before Stiles was inside the car. Scott spun them around, gripping Octavia's arm a little too tightly. "We're not involved," he whispered, half to himself. "We didn't see anything. Right?"

"Yep." She nodded eagerly. "We have deniability."

It didn't take long for Stiles to get busted, and he quickly confessed to his father that he and Octavia hadn't been alone in the woods the night he got caught—prompting a quick retreat back to the old Jeep.

The trio moved through the reserve; Octavia sat in the front seat, flipping through a heavy book on lycanthropy she found in the shop connected to the fare, while Scott slouched in the back, phone in hand, frustration building.

"I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial," Scott muttered, tapping the screen. "What about you, O?"

"Nothing." Octavia frowned, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a page.

"Just keep looking," Stiles urged from the driver's seat. "Maybe it's like a ritual or something? Like maybe they bury you as a wolf."

"Yeah, but how does someone even become a full wolf?" Octavia wondered, glancing out the window at the creeping woods.

"Maybe it's like a special skill, you know? Like something you have to learn." Stiles suggested

"Like a skill you have to unlock," Octavia mused.  "Werewolf superpower upgrade."

"I'd play that video game." Stiles nodded.

Scott, already on edge, snapped. "I'll put it on my to-do list, right underneath 'figure out how the hell I'm playing the game tonight.'" His voice dripped with irritation.

Stiles had been thrilled with Scott's newfound abilities, more excited than Scott himself. He was hooked on figuring out the supernatural world they'd stumbled into, but Scott wasn't sharing his enthusiasm. "Maybe it's different for girl werewolves,"

"Okay, stop it," Scott growled.

"Stop what?" Stiles frowned, catching Scott's glare in the rearview mirror.

"Stop saying 'werewolves.' Stop enjoying this so much!" Scott's voice grew sharper, his patience fraying.

Octavia twisted in her seat, worry etched into her face. "Scott, are you okay?"

"No." His voice was tight, his breaths shallow.
"No, I'm not. I'm so far from okay."

"Stiles—pull over," Octavia urged as her brother's fists clenched, knuckles white, veins bulging.

"You know," Stiles started, his voice tentative, "You're gonna have to accept this, Scott. Sooner or later."

"I can't!" Scott's chest heaved.

"Well, you're gonna have to."

"No," Scott panted. "I can't breathe." Suddenly, his hand slapped against the roof of the car.

Stiles swerved, nearly missing a tree. "Pull over!" Octavia's voice rose, panic now clear.

"What's happening?" Stiles's heart raced as he tried to keep control.

Octavia's eyes flicked down to the backpack at her feet. She yanked it open, revealing the coiled wolfsbane rope. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You kept it?" She glared at Stiles as Scott groaned, writhing in the backseat.

"What was I supposed to do?!" Stiles shot back defensively.

"Throw it out! Burn it—something!" Octavia yelled.

"Stop the car!" Scott's voice cut through, guttural, his eyes glowing gold.

Stiles slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop jolted all three of them forward. In a flash, Stiles grabbed the backpack and bolted out of the Jeep. He hurled the bag into the trees as far as he could, his breath ragged.

He turned back, relieved. "Okay, we're good. You can—" His words caught in his throat as he noticed Scott was gone.

Only Octavia remained, staring back at him, worry etched deep in her expression. "Where did he—?"

"I don't know." Her voice trembled. "He just... bolted."

By the time Octavia or Stiles heard anything from Scott, darkness had long settled over the town, thickening the air with anticipation. Their only relief came in the form of a hurried text from Allison, confirming he'd stopped by her place—though he'd made quite a scene. Typical Scott.

Octavia weaved through the crowd with her mother at her side, Melissa practically buzzing with excitement. As they neared, her mother's face lit up, catching Scott's eye with a wave. But Octavia's focus was elsewhere.

Amidst the sea of faces, a familiar mane of strawberry blonde hair emerged, cutting through the crowd like a blade to make her way to Scott.

"I'll be right back," Octavia whispered to her mother before slipping away, her pace quickening. She had to get to Scott before Lydia could.

"Nobody likes a loser," Lydia's smooth yet sharp voice cut through the noise as she patted Scott's chest.

"Be nice," Octavia warned her best friend, looping an arm through Lydia's to pull her away. She shot Scott a sympathetic smile. "Good luck."

Lydia flashed a smile that was as sharp as it was sweet. "That was me being nice," she quipped, causing Octavia to roll her eyes, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Lydia was always like this—dangerous in her charm, brutal with her honesty.

They climbed the bleachers, the crowd's energy buzzing beneath them as they made their way toward Allison and her father. As soon as they reached them, the tension crackled.

"Dad, you remember Octavia, right?" Allison asked with a knowing smile. "Scott's sister."

"Right," Mr. Argent replied, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as they landed on her. "Octavia."

"Hi, Mr. Argent," Octavia greeted, trying to keep her voice steady. There was a tightness in her chest, a reminder of what she knew now—what they were. Hunters. Here to hunt Scott. "I just wanted to say hello before the game. I should get back to my mom, though. It was nice to see you again."

"Enjoy the game," he replied, his words polite but his gaze cold, lingering just a moment too long.

As she turned to leave, a chill crept up Octavia's spine. She forced a smile and a short nod, but the weight of what she knew hung in the air.

Octavia sat stiffly beside her mother as the game kicked off, the stadium lights casting sharp shadows over the field. Jackson took his place at center, eyeing the opposing team's captain with a smug confidence that made Octavia's stomach twist. As soon as the whistle blew, Jackson scooped up the ball with practiced ease, charging toward the goal with his teammates racing to block the competition.

Scott sprinted ahead, stick raised, calling for the ball. He was wide open. But Jackson barely glanced his way, passing the ball to another player without hesitation.

Octavia's fists clenched as realization hit—Scott was being iced out. She saw it in the deliberate glances between Jackson and the others, in the way they refused to acknowledge her brother's open position. Her anger flared when Jackson swerved to intercept Scott's path, knocking him aside to claim the ball for himself. The crowd roared as Jackson scored the first goal, and Octavia felt her teeth grind together.

Beside her, Melissa stood and clapped with a forced smile, her enthusiasm more for the sake of appearances than anything else.

Octavia's eyes caught the obnoxious flash of a "We Luv U Jackson" sign, held up by her friends just a few rows back. Her gaze lingered on Lydia, who was grinning and cheering like nothing else mattered. Octavia's jaw tightened. Scott was trying his hardest to play the game, and here was Jackson—Lydia's stupid boyfriend—making sure he didn't stand a chance.

She glanced at Stiles, sitting on the bench a few seats over. Their eyes met, and she tilted her head towards the sign. He mouthed, "Brutal." She gave him a slight, exasperated nod.

Unable to sit still any longer, Octavia stood, murmuring a quick excuse to her mom before making her way down to where Stiles was perched. As she reached him, she leaned in close, speaking just low enough for only him to hear. "If they keep freezing Scott out like this, he's gonna wolf-out. You know that, right?"

Stiles exhaled sharply, his face creased with worry. "Yeah, I know," he muttered, eyes darting back to the field. "But what are we supposed to do about it? Jackson's playing dirty, and we can't exactly yell werewolf in the middle of the game."

"We could ki—"

"We are not killing Jackson," Stiles cut her off, giving her a pointed look.

"You never let me have any fun."

Stiles snorted, but his amusement was fleeting. His eyes flicked nervously to Scott, who was pacing the field, tense and frustrated. "We need to keep him calm," Stiles murmured. "If Scott loses it in front of everyone, we're screwed."

"We have to find a way to get him the ball," Stiles shot her a wary look, but she could see the gears turning in his head.

The game ended with a sharp whistle, and the crowd's deafening roar, but Octavia barely noticed the celebration. Scott had scored the winning goal in the last few seconds and then bolted off the field as if chased by something unseen. Octavia exchanged a quick goodbye with her mother, promising Stiles would safely get her and Scott home. She glanced over at Stiles, standing just a few feet away, deep in conversation with his father. Their eyes met briefly, tension unspoken but thick between them before Stiles turned and made a beeline toward the locker rooms.

They walked side by side, weaving through the thinning crowd, the adrenaline of the game slowly ebbing into something heavier. "Maybe Derek didn't do it," Octavia ventured, her voice low. "Maybe there's something bigger going on. Another threat."

Stiles gave her a sideways glance, disbelief etched on his face. "You think he didn't bite Scott?" He sounded incredulous. "Have you seen any other freaking werewolves around here? Because I sure haven't."

"I didn't say he didn't bite Scott," she muttered, a frown tugging at her lips. "I just don't get murderous monster vibes from him, that's all."

Stiles snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching. "And what are your expert credentials for that kind of analysis?"

"I watch a lot of Criminal Minds," she shot back with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood as they neared the locker room.

"Yeah, well," Stiles shook his head, lips pressing into a line, "I'm not even gonna touch on that."

"I'm sure you hear that a lot." She slowed slightly as they approached the locker room, trailing behind Stiles.

They stopped abruptly at the sight of Allison and Scott locked in a kiss, completely oblivious to anyone else. Stiles froze, eyes wide, before backing into the lockers, his realization dawning in awkward horror. Scott was clearly having a moment.

Octavia stifled a laugh, whispering, "Are they still kissing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes but didn't turn around. "How would I know?" he whispered, his voice matching hers. "We're literally staring at each other."

"So, poke your head out."

"You poke your head out!

"Gross! I don't want to see my brother and my friend kissing!"

"Oh my god—" Stiles groaned softly, exasperated, but he leaned forward and peeked around the corner. Scott and Allison were still in their blissful bubble, noses touching, foreheads resting together as they exchanged shy smiles and soft giggles.

Stiles quickly ducked back, muttering under his breath. "Still going." He grimaced, uncomfortable but amused.

It wasn't until Allison finally pulled away, a shy laugh escaping her lips, that the moment broke. Scott's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Octavia could see a rare flicker of lightness in her brother that she hadn't seen since the night in the woods.

"I, um," Allison said softly, almost as if she didn't want to break the spell. "I should get back to my dad." She kissed him again before turning to leave, and as she passed Octavia and Stiles, she smiled knowingly. "Hi, Stiles. Octavia."

"Hey," Stiles replied, his voice slightly higher-pitched, trying to act casual. "Yeah."

Once the door clicked shut behind Allison, they finally approached Scott, who looked dazed, his grin completely uncontainable. "I kissed her," he said, beaming like he still couldn't believe it.

"I saw," Stiles responded, trying not to roll his eyes.

"She kissed me," Scott added, his lovesick grin still plastered.

"Saw that, too," Stiles said, his tone softer now. "That's pretty good, huh?"

Scott shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know how, but I controlled it. I pulled it back. Maybe I can do this. Maybe it's not that bad."

Octavia exchanged a quick glance with Stiles, their silent communication clear: maybe tonight wasn't the right time to break the news. Let him bask in this rare moment of happiness. Stiles gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease out of the conversation. "Yeah...we'll, uh, talk later."

But Scott's instincts were sharp now, even in his post-kiss haze. "What?" he asked, his smile fading. "What's going on?"

Octavia hesitated, but Scott's eyes flickered between them, suspicion growing. "Scott, we can talk about it tomorrow," she offered gently.

Scott shook his head, his expression darkening. "No, this seems serious." His gaze shifted to Stiles, narrowing. "What is it?"

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "The, uh, medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found..."

Scott's eyebrows shot up. "And?"

Octavia nudged Stiles, her voice low. "Dumb it down for him."

"Right," Stiles nodded. "Medical examiner says the killer's an animal, not a human. Derek's human, so he's not the killer. They let him out of jail."

Scott's face drained of color, his mouth gaping. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope," Octavia said flatly.

"And here's a bigger," Stiles added, his voice dropping. "My dad ID'd the body. Both halves. Her name was Laura Hale."

Scott stared at them, eyes wide. "Hale?"

"Derek's sister."

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

stiles and octavia are my two favorite idiots

𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎