I'm No Werewolf (The Rewrite) // Stiles Stilinski x OC

Euphoria

The class had quietened, everyone's eyes seeming to fall on her in curiosity as she simply sighed, meeting Stiles' worried stare.

"If I don't... there's no telling what he could do" she mumbled, picking up her bag from the floor, "I'll be back".

"Oh god" he groaned, "you're never meant to say 'I'll be back'. That's like the number one rule. You don't ever say you'll be back. It's called tempting fate".

He was stressed, she could tell, feeling his anxious and jittery demeanour as she stood, ignoring everyone's stares as she left the classroom but not before hearing the teacher exclaim "Mr Stilinski would you get back to your seat".

Whatever Peter's plan was, she had to one up him. She had to get ahead of the game – of his game – before there was nothing left to try and salvage. She didn't know how she would do it, but she needed to. Preferably, before Scott either died or got blood on his hands.

She walked all the way to the other side of the school, pushing open the double doors to reception and was pointed by the stern-faced, older-looking receptionist to a room with the door wedged open.

She faltered for a second, dreading to face him again after he turned her entire world upside down, but knew if she didn't then the consequences would be far worse. Plus, she was stronger than this. She could deal with this; she knew she could.

Tilting her chin up in defiance, she walked into the room, coming face to face with not only Peter but Derek as well.

"Derek?" she asked in surprise, casting him a suspicious look, "what are you... oh. You're with him".

It wasn't a question; it was a statement. One uttered with so much disgust and contempt she even surprised herself.

Derek dropped his stare, not able to meet her gaze.

"Seriously?" she demanded, "after everything he's done? He killed your fucking sister for crying out loud and, what? Now your best buds?" she sneered, "what the hell Derek?"

"Sweetheart, language" Peter chastised with a smirk, his long black leather jacket draped menacingly around him, "before I make you wash your mouth out with soap".

"Shut your mouth before I rip out your tongue and strangle you with it".

"Yup" Peter grinned, seeming proud, "definitely my daughter, no doubt about it".

"I am not your daughter" she claimed fiercely, raising a finger and pointing it at him, "not in the way that really matters".

Peter pretended to clutch his heart, his lips pursing. "Well, they do say the teenage years are the hardest. It's to be expected".

She scoffed, turning her attention to Derek, "what the hell does he have over you?"

"Nothing" Peter interrupted, "I just showed him the true meaning on family".

"You wouldn't know the meaning of the word if it turned around and bit you in the ass".

"Now now Kayla, put those kitty kat claws away before you scratch someone's' eyes out" Peter tsked her, sending her a smirk of delight, "we're just here to talk".

"No, you're not" she sneered, "you've not waited six years to just talk".

"You're smart" he mused, "but are you smart enough to have figured it all out?"

She remained quiet, giving him the answer he needed.

"Ah... I see it's healing quite nicely" he commented, taking a step forward and grabbing her wrist, inspecting it with wondering eyes, "you'll thank me for this one day, you know".