Shifted

9 - Yoda Derek

Lacrosse practice was more stressful than usual. Stiles had to prove he was worthy to be on first line while trying to keep his wolf from coming out and murdering everyone on the field. Like last week, he stood in line lacrosse stick in hand and waited for his turn to take a shot. The only difference was now he was on first line and Jackson would be on defense with the long stick.

"Don't get angry Stiles. Don't get angry." He kept chanting in a low voice while waiting his turn. He only hoped it would work.

Hardly anyone made it past Jackson. Scott was taken down pretty badly but what surprised Stiles (and everyone else) was Jackson helping him up. He didn't even help Danny, his best friend! Stiles knew something was up with those two but before he could dwell on the subject further, it was his turn to take a shot.

He took a deep breath and once again reminded himself to stay calm. No matter how much Jackass Jackson's smirk taunted him. And how loud Lydia's voice was as she cheered for her boyfriend.

The assistant coach blew his whistle and Stiles ran towards the goal. He tried to sidestep Jackson but he swung his lacrosse stick and whacked him in the face. His nose was bleeding when he fell on the ground. He could vaguely hear Jackson asking him if he still wanted to be on first line but all he could focus on was the blood dripping down his nose. That and the lingering scent of Lydia's perfume on the smirking blonde.

He was being challenged and his wolf demanded that he fight back. He wanted to beat Jackson into submission. To show him who was the strongest, the best. His eyes shined a brilliant gold and his breathing picked up as he thought of how good Jackson would look drowning in his own blood. He thought of how relieved Lydia would be that she was no longer chained to the good for nothing bastard.

"Stiles calm down." It was Derek.

He tried to listen to him but all Stiles could hear was Jackson telling his friends that he was going to get Spastic Stiles out of first line before the first game of the season and the sound of the audience laughing at him.

"Stiles!" Derek was trying to reach him again but it wasn't working.

He gripped the stick harder, readier than he ever had been to give Jackson the beating he deserved. It wouldn't take long, just two minutes tops and Jackson would be begging for mercy. Mercy that would never come because he didn't deserve it. Then a piercing sound reached his ears and he dropped back to the ground and cradled his head.

"Dog whistle." The shrill noise was replaced by the sound of Derek's voice, "Perfect for knocking some sense into misbehaving dogs."

"Help me." Stiles pleaded having realized that he was about half a second into murdering Jackson on the field.

"Focus on your heart rate. You used to have panic attacks right?" Derek continued, "How do you control that?"

"I control my breathing and think of my dad." He said quietly knowing that Derek could hear him

"Try it now."

As Coach spoke 'motivations' in his ear, Stiles did what Derek said and closed his eyes. He thought of his father. Of those nights they would ride around the cruiser and his dad would teach him what the police codes say. Of those times his father would tell him he had the makings of a good detective. He could feel his heart rate slowing down but it wasn't enough. Then he heard her voice in his head.

"Trust me. Just focus on me. On my voice. Everything will be just fine."

When he opened his eyes, they were back to their normal brown and he smiled.