Concha :)

Music blasts from your earbuds as you take a shot of whatever you could get your hands on from your mom’s liquor shelf. Your iPod nano that sits in your pocket is the key to your sanity as well as the barrier keeping you from being admitted to the Eichen House for nutcases. Your crutch.

In one quick motion, you threw back the shot of what you can only assume was tequila. You can’t stop your face from crumpling in disgust as it burns its way down your throat.

The voices would only remain quiet if you were subdued or if you drowned them out.

You put the bottle away after taking another shot and threw out your disposable shot glass before taking the music filled trip back up to your room.

Your dad wasn’t around and your mom was usually out of town on business. And given your “predicament” of the voices in your head, you tended to stay isolated. It wasn’t long before you were given the title “Beacon Hills’ loneliest kid.” At least you have the house to yourself most of the time.

A flash of lighting caught your attention as you moved to sit at your desk. You didn’t notice the storm taking place outside until now. It was coming down hard and there was a feeling in your gut beginning to form that you couldn’t quite shake. A feeling of anxiety and dread lingered like a heavy weight and you had to take an extra big inhale to keep your breath from catching on itself.

Finally, your gaze landed on the book on your desk. The worn leather felt familiar under your touch- because it was. You opened it to a random page in the book- a familiar page on werewolves.

And in that moment, the voices overpowered the music with a loud screech. You let out a gasp as your eyes take in the pages and the noise, and finally, the bright lightning that highlighted the shadows in your room. You pried the earbuds out of your ears and brought your hands up to cover them in an attempt to shut the voices up.

Your eyes shut and in the back of your eyelids you see a familiar boy with shaggy hair in a red hoodie. He seems to be out of breath, gasping and wheezing in breaths that don’t want to fill up his lungs.

The voices continue to scream, paired with the boy’s own voice.

In a quick moment, a black shape jumps at him. The rest goes by in flashes: a struggle followed by running until he’s in a road. A car swerves past him, barely missing him as the tires screech from the narrow miss.

The voices won’t relent. You feel your eyes water behind your lids.

Then you see a flash of what looks like a bite on the boy’s side.

“Stop! Shut up! Stop!” You cry out in hopes of getting the voices to quiet down. Much to your surprise, they do. They return to their normal whispers and you have to wipe away at the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Your gaze bounces around your room and once you remember where you are, you feel your shoulders begin to loosen up.

You sigh and place the earbuds back into your ears to listen to the end of a song before it transitions to another one. Your eyes find their way back to the book and the open pages on werewolves, lingering on the image of a half transformed person.

A flash of realization hit that you will come face to face with one soon- the boy from the vision.

What a great way to end summer vacation.

—

You wake with a groan as sunlight pours in through the cracks of your curtains and resist the urge to hit snooze on your alarm again. A moment passes of you laying in your bed under the covers, your eyes peaking open to stare at the expanse of your room. The posters on the wall of musicians and bands stare down at you as you force yourself to sit up.

The voices seem to be sleeping in this morning. They’ll come out soon enough.

To put it simply: you were not excited for another lonely school year. Sure, you would go to the occasional party, but that’s just because people know you enjoy a good drink… or shot… or seven… But outside of that, you weren't anticipating that the social climate would be good.

It takes brushing your teeth and washing your face to remember the vision from last night. You watched a boy get bit by a wolf in your mind. You knew it was possible, but you never thought it would happen to you of all people, especially at a measly sixteen years old. The boy in the vision looked familiar, you could almost put a name to the face. But it somehow kept escaping you. You huffed in annoyance.

How do you know him?

You shrug on a simple outfit of jeans, a hoodie, and finally, your trusty converse. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you look presentable enough, just a few tweaks to your hair and some simple makeup and you were ready to go. You grab your already packed backpack, phone, and iPod before making your way downstairs to your kitchen.

Your mom was out on a work trip meaning you wouldn’t see her again until next week. Even then, it would only be for a few days before she’s out of town again.

You grab a Pop Tart and your keys and make your way to your car in the driveway. Sliding in with everything in your hands proves to be a struggle but you make it work, settling in with a sigh. As soon as you start the car, music blares from the stereo.

The last time you drove, the voices flared up, but not as bad as last night. You were able to stay focused by blasting music. Most of the time.

You turn down the music to a much more pleasing volume for 7:30am, put the Pop Tart in your mouth, and begin the drive to school.

It’s not a long drive, forcing you scarf down your breakfast with disgusting speed, finishing it up as you pull into the parking lot. You do a quick check in the visor mirror to make sure you still look, well, decent, before turning off your car, putting in your earbuds, and making your way through the parking lot with your backpack slung on one shoulder.

The voices in your head begin to wake up. You were jealous they could sleep in. But you quickly showed them how grateful you are to them by drowning them out with loud guitars and heavy drums.

From all sides, students were flooding from the parking lot into the school. You keep your gaze down at the pavement as you make your way across the lot, something you’ve always done. To say you liked to avoid people in your sober state would be an understatement. You would much rather not converse with anyone than slip up and have them think you’re weirder than most people already think you are.

You kept to yourself and it was simple. No drama, no worries.

But your gaze is quick to shoot up, prompted by the voices sounding over the music and guiding your sight. A little ways a head, you see two boys standing to the side of the walking path. The one with the buzzcut is looking down at the shaggy haired boy’s abdomen as he lifts up his shirt to expose a large bandage.

The voices simmer down as you stop yourself from walking forward any more. That was Scott McCall. Scott McCall got bit. In front of him stood his friend Stiles Stilinski. Both boys also had a… difficult… time fitting in with the rest of the Beacon Hills High School population, but you also all knew how to make due. Scott was the quieter of the pair while Stiles wore his usually sarcastic thoughts on his sleeve.

When they begin walking towards the building, you follow a short ways away. They seem to be having quite the conversation, so you allow yourself to move past them when they stop at a larger paved area. You take out an earbud as you walk past, looping it over the top of your ear to hide the fact that you are eavesdropping.

You noticed, within recent years, that when people had secrets to tell, and you were around with your earbuds in, they would continue talking. They were usually spreading rumors about things they heard or saw. Some even had the nerve to talk about you while you sat a table away from you in the library. You would always shoot them a sharp glare before leaving.

“’Cuz California doesn’t have wolves.” You hear Stiles say as you make your past the pair. “Not in like sixty years.”

Scott seems thrown off by this newfound knowledge. “Really?” He asks.

“Yes, really,” Stiles shoots back quickly. “There are no wolves in California,” he reiterates and there’s a small pause in the conversation as Scott thinks about what to say next.

But you don’t stick around for that and you make quick work getting to your locker to shove your unnecessary items away before making your way to class.

You pick a spot in the back corner by the window, a seat you had grown rather accustomed to during your first year in high school. You lean your head in your palm as you look out through the glass, waiting for your class to begin.

Your attention gets pulled to the person in front of you as he picks his seat. The buzzcut gives him away. Then your eyes glide easily over to Scott, who sits in the next row and one seat closer to the board.

It’s when the bell rings that you finally take out your earbuds, setting your iPod on the desk. You prepare a notebook and pencil in front of you, anticipating the beginning of notes, even if most teachers use the first day of classes as a syllabus and free period.

The teacher at the front of the room grabs your attention. His back is to the class as he writes on the chalkboard. “As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night,” he informs and you watch as Scott and Stiles share a look with each other and it clicks in your head.

Dumbasses. They decided to look for a dead body and then one of them got bit. You roll your eyes, an action that seems to have been noticed by Scott, who quickly turns forward again.

The rest of the class all seemed a little too preoccupied in their own thing. Some putting on makeup and others barely listening. If you didn’t have to sit through classes with them to actually learn, you’d find it quite amusing.

“And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police has a suspect in custody.”

Again, Scott looks over at Stiles, both sharing a baffled expression of furrowed brows and lips quirked downwards.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

A few groans escape your peers as they all pull out their syllabus to read to themselves. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Scott flinch as he hears something that no one else can. He isn’t subtle about it either, as he looks around the classroom, trying to locate the source of whatever he was hearing before his eyes land on someone outside on a bench. You follow his gaze before rolling your eyes again.

What were you doing? You knew your paths would intersect eventually, but now was not the time to be micro analyzing every little thing Scott “Now a Werewolf” McCall was doing. So, you allow your gaze to fall to the syllabus, quickly flicking your eyes over the classroom expectations, grading scale, and much more information.

You didn’t realize how well Scott’s senses worked just yet. The door to the classroom was opened by the principal, with a new student following behind.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent,” the vice principal announces to the class of students, who probably didn’t care all that much. “Please do your best to make her feel welcome.” The vice principal is quick to leave after his quick introduction and Allison beelines it to the empty seat behind Scott.

Both you and Stiles are looking over at Scott, not-so-subtly watching him watch Allison make her way to her new seat.

Stiles is a lot more obvious than you. Where you’re quick to lower your gaze when she gets closer, he opts to use his hand to partially cover his face and look like he totally wasn’t watching Scott stare.

You glance up again as Scott offers a pen to the new girl unprompted. That must have been part of what he was listening in on not five minutes ago.

It takes every bit of your will power to force and keep your gaze on your work throughout the class, trying to pretend to read it. You highly disliked how distracting these two were quickly becoming now that you knew such highly sensitive information on them.

The bell eventually rings signaling the end of the class and you follow the crowd of students out to the hallway. You make your way to your locker, which only seemed to be about half a hallway down from where Scott and Stiles were chatting.

The voices compelled you to look at them. Suggesting it, even, in their own magical way. Stiles was in conversation with one of your classmates. Scott seemed to be watching Allison talking with Lydia Martin, the popular girlfriend of Jackson Whittemore and always throws the best ragers, as well as said Jackson Whittemore who was a star lacrosse player and captain and also a pompous asshole.

You avoided the two like the plague, especially since you’ve always tried to keep a low profile. But somehow, you attended the same parties.

Much to your surprise, Scott’s attention is quickly pulled to you. Your eyes widen and you quickly slam your locker to turn heel, making your way literally anywhere else.

Although, you supposed, you did have a reason to keep an eye on him. While you weren’t the most powerful with your talents yet, if something were to happen, you’d be able to assist Scott. Especially as it was his first day as a werewolf.

So, you made a slow pace to the lacrosse field, where you knew they would be for their first day of practice for the school year. Your iPod was still playing music, now a bit calmer than earlier.

You arrive just in time to see everyone watching the practice cheering. You quirk a brow at Stiles shouting “That’s my friend!” with a point and turn to see Scott standing at the goal, having caught the ball.

The thought arises within you that Scott will quickly become in over his head with his powers. He’s working with no knowledge of how they work at a practice for a sport. You couldn’t be more disappointed.

Though, you realized quickly, he doesn’t know everything that comes with being a werewolf just yet.

Soon, he’ll get the hang of it. He just needed to be taught.

You chuckle.

While you weren’t the last person he should trust to explain his powers to him, you definitely weren’t the first person he should trust either.

Your face drops when you see him catching you looking at him again and you quickly turn around to begin walking back to your car. Your cheeks flush a subtle red, embarrassed to have been caught observing not once, but twice in such a short amount of time.

You grab the leather bound book from your passenger seat, and throw the rest of your school supplies in its place. Once settled, you begin walking a leisurely pace over to the forest next to the school.

Maybe this will be the push you need to really buckle down and learn some new spells.

You had successfully levitated a small log and pushed it around some… again. Your hand was held up, creating a direct path of magic from yourself to the log so you can guide it as you’d like. A sigh escapes your lips as you realize just how much you were struggling with learning any new spells. There was only so much you can do: levitating objects, create a small gust of wind, and creating a small flame the size of a lighter appear with your fingertips were a few.

With a groan, you cock your arm back before shooting it forward, the log following the movements and launching forward through the forest.

“What was that?” The familiar voice of Scott asks and you feel the urge to kick yourself. Why were they also out here?

“Sounded pretty heavy,” Stiles’ voice sounds from a short distance.

You slam your grimoire shut and cringe at the loud ‘thump’ that echoes around.

“Over here-” Scott cuts himself off as he appears from behind a tree. The moment he realizes it’s you, he speeds up.

“Scott, hey, wait, not everyone could be a werewolf, you know-” Stiles cuts himself off as soon as he sees you. “Oh no…” His face falls, processing just what he said and how loud he said it. “That was a joke! I was joking…”

“You-” Scott starts.

“Me?” You ask, trying your hardest to play innocent. You even raise a hand to point at your chest.

“You were watching me in the hall and at practice,” Scott accuses and you can’t even bring yourself to deny it.

“She what-?” Stiles tries but you cut him off.

“And class,” you confess with a sigh as the two stop in front of you. “I sit behind Stiles in English.” You gesture to the pale boy as you finish speaking before tucking the grimoire under your arm.

“Oh, you’re the quiet one who’s always listening to music,” Stiles quickly realizes aloud. “How much music do you have stored on that thing?” He asks, gesturing to the iPod in your pocket.

“I switch out music about twice a month,” you answer with a nod.

“Why are you here?” Scott asks, his voice friendly but pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That,” Stiles agrees, shooting a halfhearted point at Scott.

You roll your eyes. “What? I can’t go for a walk?”

Stiles’ eyes narrow at you, an action you don’t miss. “In the forest where a dead body was found?”

Scott gets the conversation back on track. “Did you hear the loud thud?” He gestures loosely to where the log had landed, not too far from the three of you.

“I slammed my book shut,” you offer. Scott shakes his head.

“No. It was a thud.”

“Can’t say I did.”

Stiles scoffs at your reply. “Wow. Okay. You’re just going to stand there and lie?”

You scoff back, your eyebrows furrowing from the accusation. He was right, but it still hurt. “Who are you to tell me that I’m lying?”

Stiles opens his mouth to shoot a comment back but Scott beats him to it. “Okay, sure. But why were you watching me?”

“Why are you joking about being a werewolf? And talking about dead bodies?” You shoot back. This causes their eyes to widen.

“How did you-” Scott tries but you cut him off.

“You’re both loud,” you state firmly.

They both sigh and Scott’s gaze falls to the ground, then back to Stiles. “I could’ve sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running.”

And now they’re going to ignore you?!

“That usually means a larger predator is out there. They were scared,” you chime, earning a glare from Stiles, who stands a few feet away with his hands on his hips. “M’kay…” You turn your gaze to the forest floor.

Scott crouches down. “I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.” Stiles tries to reason, gesturing loosely to the ground.

“Why are we on bodies? Why are you looking for dead bodies?” You try and ask, earning glances from the boys.

“We were bored,” Stiles answers with a shrug.

Scott nods. “Yeah, nothing ever happens in Beacon Hills.” He turns back to Stiles. “If he did, I hope he left my inhaler,” Scott says from his crouched spot, looking up at his friend. “Those things are like eighty bucks.” Stiles chuckles and you roll your eyes before turning around.

“That’s such a bad answer…” you grumble, shifting your weight slightly.

You and Stiles spot a figure at the same time not too far from where the three of you were. A gasp escapes you and you take a few steps back to be in line with them. Stiles hits Scott’s shoulder to grab his attention and he turns around and stands up quickly. The air turned tense quick with the looming presence of the broody man in front of you.

He quickly moves to close the gap and you take another instinctive step back.

“What are you doing here?” He questions. The three of you stay silent, Stiles looking away, Scott staring straight on, and you fidgeting with your book. “Huh? This is private property,” the broody man informs, his gaze on the three of you not relenting.

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know,” Stiles tries, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands. He’s obviously nervous.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott’s voice pauses for a moment, earning an eyebrow raise from the man. “Uh, forget it.”

With a quick motion, the man throws a small object to Scott before shoving his hand back into his pocket of his leather jacket. Scott catches it easily and you notice that it’s the inhaler he was talking about. You allow your gaze to travel back to the very intense man and furrow your brows.

It’s after a quick eye contact with you and your book that he begins to finally walk away.

“Intense,” you mumble to the boys, earning their gazes. There’s something that seemed to be lingering on Stiles’ mind.

“All right, come on, I gotta get to work,” Scott mutters and moves to begin walking back from where they came, but is stopped by Stiles.

“Dude, and…” Stiles takes a moment to look at you, his gaze holding what you an only perceive as distaste, “you.”

You frown.

“That was Derek Hale,” Stiles informs the both of you and suddenly the name clicks.

“Wait, like, house fire Hale?” You prod, earning a nod from the boy.

“Yeah. Scott, you remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

Scott continues to look confused. “Remember what? A fire?”

“His family?” Stiles shoots back.

“They all burned to death in a house fire,” you chime in, earning another distasteful glance from Stiles and you frown again.

“Yeah, like ten years ago,” he finishes it up.

Scott looks at the two of you. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Stiles scoffs before beginning to walk away. “Come on,” he says, mostly for Scott’s sake.

The latter takes a moment to look out to where Derek walked off before his gaze lands on you. His eyes are kind and warm compared to his friend’s and he gestures for you to walk with them out of the forest. You gratefully nod and follow them back to the parking lot.

At some point during the walk back, Stiles turns around to say something but his eyes land on you before he can. “What? We’re keeping her?” He asks, waving his hand in a loose gesture at you.

You furrow your brows, crossing your arms across your chest, your book nestled in between. “I’m not a dog.”

Scott shakes his head. “Dude, there was a dead body found last night, and a weird stranger hanging out right now. It’s better if we stay together.”

Stiles obviously cannot believe his ears, simply scoffing and turning back forward as you all approached the parking lot.

Scott begins to deviate from where you and Stiles were heading to walk to his bike. “I’ve gotta go.” Scott pauses and looks over to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Scott, really?” Stiles looks distressed, his gaze bouncing between you and Scott, clearly holding distrust towards you.

“Yeah.” Scott looks at you. “I have a feeling we’ll be depending on her.”

You smirk. “And I, you.” You look between them.

With that, Scott waves and walks away to go to work. Stiles still glares at you.

“What’s that book?” He asks out of nowhere.

“Why? Trying to do some research on lycanthropy? Werewolves?” Your gaze snaps to his, both of you sharing similar frowns in your expressions.

He shrugs. “What’s it to you?”

The voices sound in your head, what once was a lingering whisper turns into a shout. You wince slightly.

Stiles furrows his brows at you, having noticed your small movement. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You shake your head. “If something does come out of Scott maybe becoming a werewolf, then, I’d like to help.”

“Yeah, because you obviously know something.” Stiles’ glare hardens but it’s hard to take him seriously with his buzzcut and round cheeks.

“Mm…yeah okay, babyface.” You take a scrap sheet of paper that was tucked into your journal out and look up at Stiles. “You got a pen?”

“Not on me.”

“You got your phone?”

“Yeah.”

You hold your hand out expectantly which Stiles stares at for a moment. After a moment of not doing anything, you make a small gesture for his phone.

“Oh!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out.

“Yeah.”

He places it on your hand and you make quick work adding your phone number to his contact list and shoot yourself a text. You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket and hand Stiles back his.

“I’ll text you what I know.”

He nods and shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Cool. Thanks.”

You nod, slipping your car keys out of your pocket.

“Alright, no seriously. What’s the book? It’s going to eat away at me if I don’t know.” Stiles tries again, his tone of voice a lot kinder than before. He looks defeated now, his posture more slumped and arms hanging loosely by his sides. He’s no longer glaring.

You lean your head from side to side as you contemplate telling him. “Ehh… You’ll find out soon enough. You can hardly handle ‘werewolf best friend.’ We don’t need you more stressed out than you already are.” With that, you begin to walk to your car a few spots over from Stiles’ signature blue Jeep.

He begins to protest but you cut him off. “See you tomorrow, Stiles.” You get into your car and press your fingers to your temples. All things considered, the voices were decently well behaved today.

Against your better judgement, you find yourself watching lacrosse practice again. This time, you sit in the stands with your eyes trained on Scott and Stiles. Eventually, you watch as Scott walks away from Stiles and onto the field. After a few seconds of standing around, Stiles follows.

You never liked the coach. He always rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke to students. But, at least he wasn’t your coach.

Cheering is heard from the crowd of boys in their gear on the field. When they disperse and begin playing, you feel your phone buzz. You reach into your pocket and pull it out to see a message from Stiles. Your eyes widen as you read it.

Stiles: Overheard my dad on the phone that the fiber analysis from LA lab showed animal hair on the body in the woods.

You: Let me guess: wolf?

Stiles: Bingo.

You let out a sigh as your eyes remained glued to your screen, trying to formulate a response. Your fingers move faster than your brain does.

You: A wolf comes out of no where, kills someone, bites Scott. Do they know who the person was?

Stiles: No, and they’re still interviewing suspects.

You: Cool. Cool cool cool.

You: Not cool, actually.

Looking up, you notice Stiles staring at you from his spot on the bench. Your brows furrow. You were about to open a messy can of worms.

You were shocked when Stiles invites you over after practice. But when you really process it, you’re not really. Scott was pulling stunts that no one on the team has ever done before, at least, that you were aware of. You sit on his bed, copying notes from the grimoire into a spiral notebook for Stiles while he scrolls through his computer on his desk.

Every few minutes, the printer goes off and Stiles picks up a worn down book to continue searching for anything he felt he needed to know about werewolves.

You copy down everything on the page, including personal entries from one of the first owners of the book. They had trusted a werewolf once but was betrayed by them. The book was passed down to their next of kin. You made the decision to leave out a few details here and there as to not freak Stiles out too much.

When you finish writing everything down, you tear out the pages from the notebook and place them on the desk next to Stiles’ computer.

“What did you find?” You ask, leaning over to look at the computer screen.

“A lot…” he answers before his gaze slips to the pages you placed down. “Didn’t know you were an artist.” He gestures to the sketch of a werewolf in the center of the top page.

“I traced it.” You shrug.

Your attention is stolen from the page when a knock sounds on the door to his room. A flash of nervous fear strikes the two of you with the sound of knuckles against wood. You both look at each other before creeping over to it. Stiles slowly puts his hand on the knob, sharing a look with you. You nod and the door swings open.

On the other side of the doorway is Scott, who’s smile falls slightly at the sight of the two of you. You and Stiles, on the other hand, relax physically.

“Thought you didn’t like each other,” Scott jokes and Stiles pulls him inside of the room.

“Get in. You gotta see this, dude.” Stiles leads Scott into the room as you step back to give him the space to. “We’ve been up all night reading. Websites, books. All this information.”

“How much Adderall have you had today?” Scott asks, causing a pause in the conversation. His eyes were bouncing around the desk and the surrounding area to the various stacks of books and miscellaneous papers strewn about.

You can’t stop the burst of laughter that you accidentally let out before placing a hand over your mouth when they both look at you. “Sorry…” you mutter.

“A lot. Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen-” Stiles gets cut off.

“Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?” Scott asks and you shake your head.

“They haven’t. Not yet,” you say.

Stiles sits down in his chair while you and Scott take the bed.

“They’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale,” Stiles informs.

“Oh, the guy in the woods that we saw the other day,” Scott says with a level of calm that does not match Stiles’ frantic explanations.

“Yeah! Yes. But that’s not it, okay?” Stiles says and the air in the room turns more serious.

“What then?”

“Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore,” Stiles tells Scott, earning a furrowed brow from the latter. “The wolf. The bite in the woods.”

At Scott’s silence, Stiles starts up again. “Y/N and I started doing all this reading-”

“I thought you didn’t trust her.”

“I know more than you think,” you chime in.

“Do you even know why a wolf howls?” Stiles gets the conversation back on track, aiming his question at Scott. He stands from his chair as he speaks, looking down at you and Scott.

“Should I?” Scott asks, obviously not as bothered by this conversation as his friend.

“It’s a signal, okay? When a wolf’s alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. I mean, maybe even a whole pack of them.” Stiles finishes, glancing over at you. You nod.

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott’s voice comes out small.

“No. Werewolves.” Stiles says firmly.

The room goes silent for a moment before Scott stands up. “Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour,” Scott’s tone, while still warm, holds disappointment aimed at his friend. Then he turns to you. “You’re just going to go along with it?”

Stiles looks at you and you stand up. “I was at your practice today and what you did on the field would be impossible for anyone else to do,” you pause as you think of your next sentence. “It’s not just a hunch, Scott. I watched you get bit. I had a vision,” you confess, earning wide eyed stares from both of the boys.

“Vision? Like-” Stiles starts up but you cut him off.

“Like, magical type vision.” You nod.

“Yeah, right,” Scott scoffs, turning to leave.

“You almost got hit by a car, right?” You ask, causing him to whip his head back around to look at you. Stiles looks stunned.

“How did you-”

“I saw it happen, almost like I was there,” you say again. They both continue to stare at you.

Stiles speaks up first. “What are you some… some kind of witch?” He asks, a small tremor in his voice from his nerves.

“Close guess, but no. I’m a sorceress.” You pause and do an awkward shrug. “Well, a sorceress in training. Learning.”

Scott shakes his head, trying to rationalize it before shaking his head. “Funny joke, guys. So I made a good shot.” He moves to leave again but is stopped by Stiles, who takes his bag and throws it on the bed. Your brows furrow.

“No, you made an incredible shot. I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes.” Stiles moves to stand in front of Scott once more. “People can’t just suddenly do that overnight. And then there’s the vision and the senses- Don’t even think I don’t notice you don’t need your inhaler anymore-” Stiles gets cut off by Scott, who snaps.

“Okay! Dude, I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says decisively, earning panicked moves from you and Stiles.

“Tomorrow?” Stiles shouts. “The full moon is tonight! Don’t you get it?”

“It’s not going to be safe out there. For you or anyone you’re with,” you try, but it seems to be in vain.

“What are you both trying to do?” Scott asks, anger and confusion making its way out. Stiles moves to sit at his desk while Scott follows. You move to sit on the bed with your grimoire. “I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me. Everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?” Scott asks, accusation threading through his words. You frown.

“I’m trying to help,” Stiles corrects, his big eyes looking up at his friend with concern. “You’re cursed, Scott. You know, and it’s not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.” He leans back in his chair, his brows furrowed to a point where creases appear on his forehead.

“Bloodlust,” Scott repeats, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, your urge to kill,” Stiles explains.

“It’s when you’ll be at your most violent. You won’t have control over what you’re doing- at least, not yet. You need to learn how to control your powers, Scott,” you inform, your eyes scanning through the passages in the grimoire about transformation stories.

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill.”

You can practically feel the fury radiating off of Scott as he says that.

“You gotta hear this. ‘The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse,’” Stiles reads from a book on his desk. “Alright? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does-”

Oh god, it clicks. Super late, but it clicks. “Stiles,” you call as he stands up.

“You gotta cancel cancel this date.” He moves to the bed as you call out to him again.

“Stiles.” Your eyes remain glued to the back of Scott’s head as he watches Stiles move.

“I’m gonna call her right now.” Stiles pulls out the phone from Scott’s bag and crosses over to his dresser.

Scott rolls his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m canceling the date,” Stiles says matter-of-factly.

The tone of the room shifts as quickly as Scott can grab Stiles.

“No, give it to me!” Scott shouts and shoves Stiles into the wall. He raises his fist to punch him in a quick motion but stops when he feels a tugging sensation, keeping his arm held back.

The two look at you, your arm raised, holding Scott back from hitting his best friend with nothing but your mind and the magic that lives in it. Scott tries to tug his arm away from the sensation.

“What are you doing?” He shouts at you. You simply shake your head with wide eyes. When he looks calm enough, you let go just to watch him punch Stiles’ chair so hard that it falls over.

A silence fills the room with the exception of Scott’s panting as he begins to calm down. You share a look with Stiles, concern filling your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Scott finally says softly, his eyes wandering to look at the state of the room before finally backing away from Stiles. “I gotta go get ready for that party,” he stammers out. As he moves to grab his backpack from the bed, his eyes land on you.

You can’t stop yourself from gulping. Neither you nor Stiles move.

When Scott reaches the door, he looks back at the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

It’s when the door closes behind him that either of you feel like you can move again.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly. Stiles doesn’t say anything, simply throwing his head back into the wall. You frown at the action. “Stiles…”

“You knew it was going to happen,” he accuses, looking at you. “That he was going to shove me against the wall-”

“It only clicked when you started talking about his pulse rising.”

“You have these powers but let him shove me against the wall!”

“It was more reactive than proactive. Sure,” you shoot back, your voice just as firm as his. You let out a sigh. “You made a good effort. The rest of it is on him,” you say softly.

Stiles steps forward, frustration evident with every step. “I want to hear everything.” He points at you before turning to pick up his chair. When he does, he falters and you step forward.

On the back of the leather chair is a giant claw scratch. You and Stiles share a look, eyebrows raised in horror. You needed to avoid anything like this happening again tonight.

About an hour passes and you’re sitting in front of Stiles with newly ordered pizza sitting in between you. Your grimoire is next to you on the table. You had taken the trip over to your place in an attempt to calm you both down. To your surprise, it sort of worked.

Stiles sat across from you, tense, as you grabbed a slice. He follows your motions after you.

“So…” Stiles tries awkwardly.

“My whole… thing, yeah?” You ask, just as awkwardly. Stiles nods.

“Okay… well… it started when we were in the fourth grade. That’s when the voices first started-” You get cut off by Stiles’ shocked voice.

“Voices? You never said anything about voices.”

“Would you like to hear about the voices?” You ask, calmly.

“Well, yeah, I mean, if it helps explain your whole deal-”

“Then let me speak.” You frown at him and he nods. “The voices started in fourth grade. There was this kid that I hated for, really, no reason, but I couldn’t not hate him. There was something about him. When I told my parents about the voices, I think it ruined… everything. That was when I was like, nine? Then the boy left Beacon Hills and the voices went away.

“At ten, my dad left. No goodbye, just left. And my mom has been distant ever since, cagey.” You let out a shaky breath, not willing to look at Stiles. “At twelve, things began to change. The voices were back, the same whispers that they were the first time. But they didn’t go away. Nothing really sparked them, not like the first time.

“Around that time, I was going through the attic and found a bin of my dad’s old books and CD’s which I claimed- really out of spite. It was in the bin that I found this.” You move your hand to rest on the grimoire. You don’t slide it to Stiles. You just keep your hand on it. “It’s a grimoire. It’s like a spell book and it also doubled as a journal for some of my ancestors.”

“Ancestors?” Stiles asks, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought as you nod.

“It got passed down through generations. It dates back to the late 1600’s- and don’t even get me started on how this book is still a book. I think it has some type of protection charm to keep it from decomposing or getting destroyed.”

Stiles nods as if that was going to be another question.

“I was skeptical at first, but then I also realized that it could be the reason I have the voices in my head? I don’t know, I was really trying to rationalize it all. Still am. Eventually, I accidentally levitated something in front of my mom and she looked at me like I was a monster. She’s been going on month long business trips since I was fourteen.”

You finally look up at Stiles, who’s listening intently. “I’m sure you noticed how I’m always wearing earbuds.”

“Yeah, thought you just hated people,” he says with a nod.

“I mean, yeah, but it was also to drown out the voices. That’s also why I go to parties from time to time- the booze helps keep them silent.” You take another shaky breath as you really realize that you have never told this story to anyone before. “In the three years leading to now, I learned a handful of easy spells including,” you raise your hand and snap. You keep your pointer and thumb together as a small flame appears. Stiles gasps in awe.

“Then, the night before the first day of school happened. The voices flared up in a way they never have before and I saw Scott running from the wolf, getting bit, and almost getting hit by the car, all from my room. I looked down to see I opened to the page on werewolves in the grimoire.”

“And that’s why you were watching us,” Stiles deduces and you nod.

“So, long story short: I’m pretty sure I inherited my powers from my dad, who decided to pick up milk from the store and never come back,” you pause as Stiles lets out a soft chuckle, “and I have voices in my head that lead to visions and powers that I can’t control yet. I’m still learning. But I can do a few things.” You pause before you remember the forest, right before meeting Derek. “And that time in the woods before we met Derek? That loud thud? That was me…”

Stiles shrugs, not surprised. “I mean, yeah. What did you do?” He leans in closer against the table.

“I launched a log with my powers.” You smile sheepishly at him and he leans back in his chair.

“Cool, so, you’re kind of like a Jedi…” He says and you respond by bobbing your head side to side with a soft grimace. Stiles takes a second to think. “Why’d you stay isolated during all that time?” He asks, his voice soft.

You shrug. “Figured it would be easier given the whole predicament. But you guys are different. You guys are already seeing this other world first hand.”

“Yeah, and it sucks. I’m trying to help Scott but he’s not listening.” Stiles runs a hand along his buzzcut head then down over his face.

“It’s probably also the effect of the full moon, Stiles. He’ll realize what he’s done. He’ll make it up to you.” A wide grin takes over your lips. “So, what’s this about a party?”

You and Stiles arrive at Lydia’s place and you immediately head towards the table of red solo cups and various bottles of soda, juice, and alcohol. Stiles trails behind you.

“Shot?” You shout over your shoulder to him in an attempt to be heard over the voices and music. He responds with a no and practically gawks at you while you down one, two, three shots before pouring a mixed drink out for yourself. Your body moves on its own as you mix tequila with some sprite.

“Y/N! We needed to stay, like, conscious because of Scott-”

“Mmm… we’ll be fine,” you hum out. Stiles rolls his eyes and guides you inside. “I’ll be fine, Stiles.” You smile, following him until eventually you’re both stopped by a crowd of students chatting when they call him over.

The group of students look you up and down, eyeing you like you just said something offensive. You gulp.

“You guys know Y/N, right?” Stiles introduces and you hesitantly smile and raise your cup an inch in greeting. They offer kind but awkward smiles.

Should’ve taken more shots…

You let Stiles take over the conversation with your peers, chiming in whenever you had a funny quip to add to the conversation and when they laugh, you smile.

“This isn’t so bad, right?” Stiles lightly elbows your side and you roll your eyes.

“It’s the three shots I had, dude,” you shoot back with a grin. He smiles back.

But both of your smiles drop when you watch Scott stumble by. You look to each other, then to Scott, Stiles calling out to make sure he’s alright. He ignores you. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

You know it’s because of the full moon.

You move to follow him with quick feet, shoving through the crowd. Stumbling outside, you noticed you lost Stiles somewhere in between locations and managed to get to the patio just in time to see Scott driving away. You pull out your phone and call Stiles. He picks up on the first ring.

“I’m already heading outside. Meet me at the Jeep,” he shouts into the phone over the party and abruptly hangs up.

You sigh wistfully at the red solo cup in your hand. “We’ll meet again,” you mutter as you chug what you can before tossing it to the side.

You make quick work of getting to the Jeep, only waiting for a few moments before Stiles arrives. You both clamber in and Stiles begins the drive.

“Oh, three shots and a mixed drink before a drive was not the wisest idea,” you mumble with closed eyes, leaning your head back as Stiles did his best to keep the drive smooth for you.

“I told you we had to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Save the lecture.”

You successfully make it to Scott’s house without throwing up and make a dash to the front door with, you on Stiles’ tail. He opens the front door and bolts in and up the stairs. You eye the door and the fact that it was unlocked before your attention is pulled away to the banging on a door at the top of the stairs. You run up to meet Stiles just as he manages to crack the door open. Scott seems to be on the other side keeping it from opening the whole way.

“Let us in, Scott. We can help,” Stiles calls, trying to push open the door.

“No!” Scott calls, his voice sounds obstructed and it takes you a moment to realize that he now has fangs. “Listen, you gotta find Allison.”

“She’s fine, all right? I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s totally fine, alright?” Stiles tries to calm him down only to get cut off.

“I think I know who it is,” Scott shouts from behind the door.

“Scott, you have to trust us. You have to let us in,” you call from your place behind Stiles.

“Just let us in. We can try-” Stiles is cut off by a name falling from Scott’s speech.

“It’s Derek. Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one that killed the girl in the woods,” Scott rambles out quickly, his panting heard loudly from the crack of the door.

“Scott,” Stiles starts carefully, “Dereks’ the one who drove Allison from the party.”

There’s a pause where nothing happens for a moment before the door slams shut. Stiles does his best to try and open it.

He bangs on the door. “Scott!”

“Dammit,” you sigh out, running a hand through your hair. “We have to check on Allison and then we have to find Scott.”

Stiles nods at your plan. “Get to the Jeep. We gotta go.” You both turn on your heels and make your way back out of Scott’s house and into the Jeep.

It’s a silent but tense drive to Allison’s house, the two of you already fearing the worse. You both remain tense as he pulls into the driveway.

“Stay here,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, watching as he climbs out of the Jeep and books it up the walkway to the door to the Argent’s house.

He makes quick work of knocking on the door before it opens to a middle-aged woman with ginger hair. That has to be Allison’s mom.

When you see him stammering, you make your way out of the Jeep and run up the stairs to join him at the door.

Stiles’ eyes widen at your sudden arrival “I thought I told you to-”

“Allison, it’s for you,” Mrs. Argent calls, her voice shakes you up a bit, if you had to be honest. Your gaze rises to Allison who arrives on the landing.

Stiles seems to be at a loss for words.

“Oh! Good!” You speak up, a tight smile on your face. “We just wanted to make sure you got home safe. We kind of saw what happened. Trust me when I say Scott’s gonna get an earful about this. Are you okay?” You speak quickly, your eyes never leaving the girl.

“Peachy,” Allison answers with a dejected tone. You can’t say you blame her. You all watch as she goes back into her room.

“Sorry about her-”

“No we’re sorry, we should’ve been keeping a better eye on our friend. We’re glad she got home safe. If you’ll excuse us, we have a lot to talk about with Scott,” you finish with a stern tone that amuses Mrs. Argent. “Have a great night!”

You’re quick to tug Stiles back to the Jeep before you climb in again.

“Quick thinking,” he compliments as he starts up the Jeep and begins to drive around again, this time, looking for Scott.

“Thanks, you kind of froze up,” you state your observation, earning a glare from the boy.

You drove around all night trying to find Scott. When the sun was beginning to rise is when you finally found him, walking along the road deep into the forest.

Stiles pulls up next to him and you climb your way into the back, allowing Scott to sit in the front with his friend.

It’s a quiet drive at first until Scott speaks up. “You know what actually worries me the most?” He asks, his gaze staying forward as he leans against the passenger side door. He’s exhausted.

“If you say Allison, I’m going to punch you in the head,” Stiles states firmly, sparing a glance over at him.

You didn’t feel like you had any right to say anything during this moment. You instead leaned back and just listened.

“She probably hates me now.”

You have to hold back a laugh and Stiles groans.

“I doubt that,” Stiles affirms, much to your surprise.

Then you find yourself leaning forward. “Hey, just explain that you weren’t feeling well and it came over you all at once. Apologize and ask to try again.”

Scott turns to look at you. “You think that’ll work?”

“It’ll have to be a pretty amazing apology,” Stiles speaks up again. “Or, you know, you could just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf.”

There’s a pause as Scott stares at Stiles, causing him to think about what he just said.

“Yeah, bad idea,” Stiles agrees.

“It’ll work out, Scott.” You attempt to comfort him by reaching forward and putting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, we’ll get through this.” Stiles spares Scott a glance. “Come on, if I have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice.”

Both you and Scott stare at Stiles in disbelief of his words.

“I had a boa once, I could do it.”

It takes a moment to break the tension with breathy chuckles, the rest of the drive falling into a comforting silence.

It’s when Stiles is pulling up into your driveway that Scott speaks up again, turning in his seat to look at you. “Thanks for sticking around throughout all that, Y/N,” he says with a grateful smile.

You nod with a smile of your own. “Thanks for trusting me enough to keep me around, both of you,” you tell them both before finally climbing out of the Jeep. “Get home safe,” you call with a wave before making your way into the house and finally letting the exhaustion of the night take you once you’re in your bed.