Tall, Dark and Handsome meets Almost Tall, Fair-Skinned and Sarcasm {Sterek}

Chapter 2: Werewolves are real

I woke with a start, peeling the papers that were stuck to my face off before reaching for the blaring alarm. Why is it always so loud? I couldn't handle mundane things like alarm clocks and school right now.

Werewolves are real.

My best friend... is a werewolf.

Scott McCall was bitten by a werewolf because I dragged him out into the woods. This was all my fault. Now every full moon, he was going to turn into some crazy- bloodthirsty- half wolf- thing. I think. God only knows what is fact and what is fiction in all of the research I've been doing for the past 48 hours. How would we know what's going to happen to him? Is he exploding into a full grown wolf during his black outs? Is he killing people- animals? Is he going to get out of control at some point? If so- how does he gain control? What's going to happen on his first full moon?

And the biggest question... who bit him? And would they want anything from him now that they've changed him? How many werewolves are running around Beacon Hills?

Oh god. Werewolves are real. What other god forsaken horror story characters are real that we don't know about? All of it was downright alarming. Earth shattering.

How would we be able to tell who else is a werewolf?

As I began to once again scramble to get ready for school, my mind continued to race. Make a list Stiles- what's changed about Scott? He's faster, less clumsy... actually- his trademark clumsiness had utterly vanished. His asthma seems to have disappeared, he can smell and hear things too well to be human. He heals a million times faster than a human does. And he's strong- very, very strong.

I sighed in frustration as my hand swept across my buzz cut aggressively, the other one busy with my toothbrush. This wasn't helping. There's too many questions and not enough answers. I spit the toothpaste into the sink with more force than was necessary before rinsing  my brush and running back into my room to write my mental list down in my newly started 'werewolf weirdness' notebook. Scott is gonna love that title, I snickered to myself. My feet pounded the floor as I hurried down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the kitchen.

"Morning," dad said, handing me a travel mug of french vanilla coffee and an everything bagel- toasted and buttered. I frowned, French vanilla? Dad hated it when I drank this stuff, it was loaded with sugar. It made me bounce off the walls. As if he could read my frown, he spoke up. "You look like you've barely gotten any sleep the past few days," he shrugged.

I smiled at the fact that he had noticed, and then frowned at the fact that he looked the same. He was dressed primly, his uniform pressed and ready for the day ahead. His hair looked fine. But his eyes... they held heavy bags underneath and an exhaustion that was common for him at this stage in the investigations. He hadn't solved the half a body in the woods case yet, and the suspect list was practically non-existent at this point.

"I could say the same about you," I responded, quirking a brow.

"Yeah- well... I have a reason. What's yours?" He asked suspiciously.

"I claim insomnia," I winked.

"And all of the papers you were sleeping on?" He rose a brow of his own. Shit. Think fast Stiles.

"History project on mythological creatures," I blurted, in case he had read any of it. I so didn't want to get caught in a lie right now. The sheriff narrowed his eyes for a moment, but seemed to accept the explanation with a nod.

"It's nice to see you taking your studies seriously this year," he smiled. "The FBI doesn't let just any old riff raff in," he winked, ruffling my hair.