Series Rewrite (A Teen Wolf Fanfiction)

Orphaned Part 1

Outside the locker room, Coach told the griping team that they could get their stuff tomorrow. Scott was talking to his dad, and Stiles and I were talking to Sheriff. I told him everything about what happened to me, and that I knew for a fact Garrett helped, but there was nothing he could really do about that. I was still alive so my evidence wouldn't hold up in court obviously.

Still, he was looking for Garrett anyway because of Brett's testimony. Unfortunately, Garrett ran off and now no one can find him. So really, the only good thing to come out of this was Violet. She's in cuffs now—and conscious, so I get to see the stupid look on her face—and about to be taken into custody.

When Sheriff finished getting our statements, he and Parrish walked off, towing Violet. She looked at his name tag and smiled.

"Jordan Parrish?" she asked.

"Deputy Parrish," he corrected. She had a wicked gleam in her eye, and I could've sworn that was her 'I'm gunna kill someone' gleam. As she passed me, her eyes locked with mine, an evil smile on her face. I couldn't stop the low growl in my throat, but Stiles stopped me from going after her.

"God, I just-. I hate her so much," I seethed, barely struggling against his hold.

"I know. Me, too," he replied. She gave Scott the same look as she passed him, except he was a little bit better than me at hiding his hatred. I walked up to Scott.

"Hey, Brett's not looking too good. Stiles and I are gunna take him to Deaton, alright?" I said, setting a hand on Scott's shoulder.

Nodding, he said, "Yeah, alright. Be careful." Stiles had already hoisted Brett up when I walked back, but he looked like he was having some trouble, so I wrapped Brett's other arm around my shoulders, helping drag him out the back entrance.

Stiles drove quickly to the animal clinic as Brett groaned, and we got him inside as fast as he could, his cold sweat drenching through my shirt. Derek was there to help, thankfully, and I stepped back as the three of them got Brett's shirt off to find the cut.

As they did, Brett started choking, and yellow foamed out of his mouth like something out of Haunting in Connecticut. He was jerking so violently, I had to help hold him down. Stiles was free from his lacrosse gear, in nothing but a black shirt and his lacrosse shorts, and the veins in his neck jutted out as he struggled to control Brett.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "What the hell is happening to this kid?"

"He's been poisoned by a rare wolfsbane," Deaton said, moving around the room as he grabbed a scalpel. "I need to make an incision, and you need to hold him as still as possible." Stiles frowned at him, mentally making a sarcastic remark while Brett jerked around under our holds.

"Hey, Derek, how about a little werewolf strength?" Stiles said as Deaton got ready to make a cut on Brett's chest.

"Yeah, I'm not the only one with werewolf strength here," Derek snapped.

"If you can't hold him still, the incision might kill him," Deaton told us. He was full of comforting words.

"Y/N, come on," Stiles begged.

I shook my head, still trying to keep Brett down. "No, I can't. I can't do it without shifting."

"Then shift!"

"No! I can't control it yet! I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Y/N! Just-." Before Stiles could finish his sentence, Brett suddenly stopped twitching, his eyes changing back to his natural blues as he looked around. He panicked, shoving us all away. Stiles groaned as he slammed into the wall and the counter. That was bound to leave a bruise. Derek didn't hit quite so hard.

Brett looked around like he was going to fight, and his eyes landed on me. He lunged, and I screamed with surprise, automatically punching out my fist. It connected with his face, and he fell to the floor unconscious as I held my fists to my chest.

"I'm sorry. I panicked," I said quickly. Stiles walked over to look down at him while Derek glanced down at the three claw marks on his forearm that weren't healing. It didn't register to me that that was odd because Stiles frowned.

"Hey, Doc, I don't think he's breathing." I bent down with Stiles and Deaton as Deaton prepared his scalpel again. I winced as he started to cut at Brett's sternum. Brett gasped in a breath, struggling to breathe through the pain he was feeling.

Finally, a puff of yellow smoke burst up from the open wound, and Brett breathed normal again, though it was in quick pants.

"Is he okay?" Stiles asked.

"I think he'll be fine, but he'll probably be out for a while," Deaton replied. Brett, in his unconscious state, mumbled something. I didn't have to lean in to hear, even though it was nearly silent.

"I think he's saying something," Stiles said.

I repeated it as Brett mumbled it. "The sun... The moon... The truth."

Deaton's face changed like he understood. "Three things that cannot long be hidden. The sun, the moon, and the truth. It's Buddhist."

"I remember this from somewhere..." I mumbled, trying to think. I stood, pacing like it would help my thoughts run faster. I stopped suddenly. "I remember. Mrs. Yukimura told me a story and that was in it. From a werewolf named Satomi."