Gut Instinct (Teen Wolf)

3:1 You Can't Lie To Me

Warning: violence, injuries, storms, hospital, swearing (Vic), nothing that much really

The full moon hung in the sky, the silver glow shone a light over the town of Beacon Hills.

Lookout Point was a place everyone knew. It was where couples went to makeout, an artist might go to sketch the sunrise or sunset, or where some jogger's might've called their halfway point.

Tonight it was the parking place of a blue Jeep everyone in the town knew. Stiles stood beside it with a map spread out on the hood. Scott sat on the hood himself, staring up at the moon.

"Alright, so I found some cool two bedrooms in the Mission District, but they're pretty expensive," Stiles said. His voice broke Scott out of his trance as he glanced down at his best friend.

"What about Berkely?" Scott suggested. "Don't a lot of students live there?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said. "We could try Knob Hill, but the Jeep would burn through a lot of cluches."

"You're gonna bring the Jeep?" Scott asked, surprised.

Stiles looked at him like he was stupid. "You know the plan, okay? No one gets left behind. That's the plan. Lydia won't have any problem getting into Stanford, Kira's thinking USF. Malia's, uh, you know she's gonna figure something out, okay. The plan's perfect."

"Or we could also wait until we actually get into college to figure out where to live," Scott said.

Stiles looked at him offended. "I have a vision dude, okay? It's a beautiful vision, don't ruin the vision." Scott chuckled in amusement before he turned back to the sky. "Okay, we could check out the East Bay. Haven't looked at Oakland yet, you know?" Stiles looked up at Scott only to see that his attention was back on the moon. "You alright? You starting to feel it?"

"No, just thinking," Scott said.

"About what?" Stiles asked.

"Senior year," he answered.

"Senior year come on that's, that's nothing. That's gonna be easy." Although his words were comforting and dismissive, his voice was nervous.

"It's more like something Deaton told me once," Scott said. "You ever hear of regression to the mean?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"It's his way of saying that life can't be all good or all bad," Scott explained. "You know, eventually things have to come back to the middle. So, think: the last few months things have been good, right? But not amazing."

"Yeah but no one's tried to kill us in six months either," Stiles pointed out.

"Right, we've pretty much been in the middle for awhile," Scott agreed. "Which means at one point the scale has to tip one way or the other. Things are gonna get really good again...."

"Or really bad," Stiles finished.

Something fell on Scott's head and landed on the hood of the Jeep beside Stiles's map. Scott rubbed his head, expecting it to be a pinecone or a twig. Instead it was a black ink pen.

"Sorry," Vic called. "Didn't know that pocket was open. Do you mind grabbing that for me? That's my favourite pen."

Scott grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket.

"Hey, you've been pretty quiet," Stiles said. He looked up to adress his sister as she hung upside down from a tree branch. "What's going on with you?"

"Just thinking," she said.

"About what?" Scott asked.

The new voice I heard in my head six months ago, she thought. How I haven't heard anything back from it, even though I have no idea how to remove a block from my mind. How I'll recognise his messenger when I have no idea what it meant. How I knew that dream was important when I have no idea what it was.