Appetite for Destruction

Treading Water

All three of the Betas had broke through the barriers they'd faced while human and it was amazing to see the people they were underneath all that hardship.

Isaac was a weapon of projectile snark that fired off with the slightest provocation, clever quips and scathing remarks a far cry from the timid boy living under his father's rule.

Erica was a volcano in heels, fluttering lashes, red lips, and pearly white teeth. Now she wasn't tied down by her illness she knew what she wanted out of life and wasn't afraid to go after whatever that was.

Boyd was a rock, often standing in the background, but every so often he'd open his mouth and say something so cutting and hilarious I'd laugh until my stomach hurt - I'd even seen Derek crack a smile at his remarks on occasion.

It was even more hilarious that all three Betas had adopted Derek's fashion sense; all leather and attitude, and I had to bite my cheek so I didn't break into hysterics at Derek's expression the first time they all came into the depot and he was met with three teens in dark jeans and leather jackets.

(I could tell by the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth that he was actually pretty proud, even if he would never admit it.)

Training the new wolves was top priority, and though it was suspicious that the Argents hadn't made a move yet the newbies had to learn how to fight for the inevitable battle. It was difficult for them to get the hang of their new strength and reflexes, and they more often than not ended up on their asses when sparring with either Derek or myself.

Except Boyd. Boyd could throw me right across the room. He did apologize, but from then on I let Derek deal with training him.

It was too much to hope that things would be relatively calm for a while.

Whatever killed Isaac's father had killed again. I couldn't help but draw parallels to the beginning of Peter's killing spree; people being murdered seemingly at random while we ran around trying to find the culprit, and this time we didn't have a homicidal coma uncle on the suspect list.

There had been a witness to the one of the deaths, though. And that witness was Stiles Stilinski.

It was decided that we'd corner Stiles at the Lacrosse game tonight, and while Derek took the others with him I went off on my own little mission, telling Derek I'd meet him at the game. I gave him no explanation and ignored the confused frown he gave me when I split up from the pack.

Up until the second death I really hadn't had any desire to go and see Alan Deaton. In fact, I'd been happily ignoring the man's existence since I was absolutely fine with never talking to the him again. But I knew he had knowledge of the supernatural, and I needed to know if that knowledge went further than just werewolves.

The clinic didn't have any customers hanging around when I entered, the bell over the door jingling merrily when I walked in and let the door slam a little too hard behind me. I could hear Deaton in the back and glanced at the Mountain Ash counter, wondering if I should call out to him.

The vet was prompt to come investigate his visitor, but when he saw it was me he remained in the doorway of the room he'd come from, safe behind his barrier. He gave me a professional smile. "I assume you don't have an animal in need of my services?"

It was a struggle not to roll my eyes, but I managed it. I should have known it would go something like this.

"I'm guessing you know about Beacon Hills' new serial killer?" I started with. He didn't say anything, didn't even blink, and I resisted the urge to take a leaf out of Peter's book and throw something at him. "We didn't figure out who the Alpha was until he'd killed a lot of people, and I'm trying to stop that from happening again. I just... I need something to go on."