The Bite

4: Anger

Stiles took another gulp of his coffee before setting the mug back down. It created a ring over a picture of a red eyed creature.

He had raced home right after what had happened in the woods and locked himself in his bedroom. He had been researching werewolves for hours since. There was printed sheets of writing and pictures strewn across his floor and covering his bed and desk. He had bookmarked another twenty websites on his computer also.

The sun had set almost an hour ago leaving the glow of his computer the only source of light.

Stiles took a deep breath and stared down at his hand. He balled up his fist then quickly extended his fingers. He groaned in frustration when nothing happened.

"Oh, come on." He stood up and began to sift through the papers. He had definitely printed off something about learning to shift.

He was startled by the sound of the front door opening and closing. He listened carefully, trying to tune in to the conversation. There was two sets of footsteps. One he recognised as his dad and the other made him curse under his breath. He could hear his dad throwing his keys on the table and taking off his work jacket.

"Thanks, Sheriff!" He heard Scott call, hearing him bound up the stairs.

Stiles fruitlessly attempted to hide all the papers under his bed. He couldn't let Scott know, not until he learned control. Scott would try to help and Stiles didn't trust himself to not hurt him. Hell, Scott was his best friend, his only friend, and Stiles had come so close to attacking him.

There was a soft knock on the door before it creaked open, Scott sticking his head in. Stiles deemed it fair that he hadn't waited for a response seeing as Stiles often climbed through his bedroom window unannounced.

"Hey," Scott smiled, inviting himself in and walking over to the bed. He shoved some papers aside and sat down before picking one up curiously.

"Werewolves? Is that your new thing?" Scott asked good-naturedly, used to Stiles' odd hyper fixations by now. Like that time he had extensively researched circumcisions.

Stiles snatched the paper away from Scott, feeling guilty at Scott's surprised expression. By this time Stiles should've already starting ranting to Scott, who despite not being able to keep up, would nod along. Scott frowned at him.

"What the hell?"

Stiles sighed, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. "Sorry, sorry just," Stiles quickly shoved all the papers onto the ground.

"Where did you go? I tried to follow but I lost you."

Stiles didn't respond. He downed his coffee instead as something to occupy his mouth.

Scott couldn't know.

"Dude, seriously, you left me stranded out there." Scott was getting angry now. They didn't keep secrets from each other, it's just not something they did. Stiles had to say something. For once he couldn't think of anything. Scott was so good at recognising his lies.

"You were bleeding, Stiles! Tell me what's going on. Is it the body? Or was it lacrosse? Did something happen on the pitch I didn't see? Maybe you shouldn't play in the scrimmage-"

"Shut up!" Stiles bellowed, glaring at his friend. Scott's mouth snapped shut in shock. They had never yelled at one another, not like that any way.

Stiles knew not to yell at Scott, not after his father. Stiles could clearly remember nights that Scott would sleepover because of Rafael. He overheard what was happening, how Rafael got drunk almost every night and came home yelling and swinging. Stiles had held Scott extra tight on those nights, listening to his whimpers as the boy dreamt of his dad's angry face, his words, his actions. Stiles had sworn to himself that he would protect Scott from people like Rafael, from monsters.

Now Stiles was a monster.

"Nothing happened last night, I'm fine. That asshole Jackson isn't going to get to me either. He never has and he never will. I'm playing in the scrimmage too." Stiles seethed.

"Stiles... maybe you shouldn't. Not like this. I don't care if you don't wanna talk about it or whatever but you've been acting off all day. And lacrosse, I mean that was insane. Totally insane. You were- I mean- When did you even learn how to do all that?"

"What?" Stiles glared. "You don't think I could've done that, that I'm too weak to be that good? You think I cheated?"

Scott stood up, watching as Stiles' fists clenched by his sides. He was also breathing heavier. Scott couldn't understand where his anger was coming from.

"No. Not at all. I'm just.. I'm confused. We were never exactly good at lacrosse."

"'We'?" Stiles growled. "I just proved how good I am. You're the one who sucks at lacrosse, you're the one that's scarlet nerded me."

The corners of Scott's mouth pulled down and his brows furrowed. He looked away from Stiles, obviously upset. He rubbed his own shoulder, curling in on himself slightly.

"Okay... Well, I'm gonna head home. I really hope you'll tell me about whatever's going on, I know you probably didn't mean that. Or you did, but didn't mean to say it out loud." Scott attempted to joke weakly but his laugh came out more as a breath of air.

"I'll see you tomorrow. We can look for your phone if you haven't found it yet. Um, congrats on making first line. I'll let myself out." Scott took once last look at Stiles before slipping out the door.

Stiles tried to regulate his breathing as he listened to Scott's footsteps disappearing. Of course Scott wouldn't blame Stiles for his harsh words, he was too forgiving and Stiles had exploited it. He had taken his frustration out on Scott because he knew that Scott would brush over it tomorrow. Now he felt even worse.

He flopped down onto his bed and covered his face with a groan. He pulled them back quickly and looked at the blood on his palms in shock. He had begun to shift again without even realising.

When he had been angry.

Stiles jumped up and rustled through the sheets until he found the one he had been looking for. He grabbed his highlighter and sat at his desk.

He was interrupted by another knock.

"What was that about?"

"Don't know what you mean." Stiles mumbled around the highlighter cap in his mouth, not even bothering to look at his father.

"I heard yelling and Scott left looking upset."

"Well I don't control Scott's emotions, okay? Now can you close the door?" Stiles snapped, finally swivelling around in his chair to face his dad. The Sheriff looked surprised by his sons outburst but nodded silently anyway. He took one last look at his son before closing with door with a click.

Stiles huffed again. Being a werewolf was meant to be cool. He could do things that no one else could.

He had to learn to control it first.

Stiles closed his eyes tightly. He thought back to Jackson after practice, when he had shoved Scott. He thought about the look on Scott's face, about how this wasn't the first thing Jackson had done to upset him.

His eyes shot open and he looked down at this hands. His nails were long and sharp. Stiles turned his hand over to inspect them and let out a triumphant laugh.

He tuned his hearing to find out where his dad was. Once he pinpointed him in the kitchen, Stiles flung his bedroom door open and sprinted to the bathroom, locking the door.

He braced himself against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were a golden yellow colour.

He had read that that made him a beta.

But that also meant the creature who bit him, who was still on the loose, was an alpha.

His alpha.