Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 9 - Aftermath

The Saturday had been quiet. The Sun had risen above the trees, illuminating the forest and casting patches of lights on the ground, that flickered as the leaves were rustled by the wind. The light seemed to erase the last traces of what had transpired just a few hours ago, restoring the peaceful appearance of the woods. The Martin residence was also touched by the first rays of sunlight. By the pool, a few red cups littered the floor, small reminders of the party that had taken place. Lydia was asleep and she would not wake up before many hours. As the host of the party, she had gone to bed last. Her sleep was peaceful, her strawberry blonde hair spread around her head and on her pillow.

A few streets away was the dirt road that led to the Tate farm. Henry Tate was already up, preparing for a trip to the woods. He had noticed paw prints too close to his property for his liking and wanted to investigate. He had heard his son come back home about an hour earlier, completely ignoring his curfew. Henry did not know whether to confront his son or not. As a father, he knew he could become overprotective. He did his best not to suffocate his son but at the same time, he was terrified of losing him. Pushing away the unpleasant thought, the man laced his hiking shoes, got up and started making his way through the trees. He followed the first path on his left, the one that led straight to the heart of the Preserve. It was unknown to him that this was the same path that his son, Scott McCall and Derek Hale had crossed in their mad dash away from the three men armed with crossbows. 

The small path also led to the burnt ruins of the Hale house. After the fire, the house had never been rebuilt. It had since reached a state of decay, it was a truly dreadful sight. No one was inside, not even Derek Hale. The young man loved the old ruin as much as he hated it, for it held many precious memories that had all come to a very bitter end. The werewolf was currently in his black Camaro, parked across the street from the McCall home. Sunglasses covered his tired eyes as he kept watch. He would not let a newly bitten werewolf roam the streets unsupervised. He knew exactly how much damage this could result in and wanted to avoid any incident that could expose the existence of the supernatural to the public eye.

Just like Lydia, Scott was soundly asleep, oblivious to the watchful presence across the street. He was sprawled on his bed, arms spread away from his body. His mouth was hanging open and he snored lightly as he rested in a state of dreamless slumber. His mother was off to work -- just because it was the weekend did not mean people would not need medical assistance.

Melissa was currently reviewing a chart, brows furrowed in concentration. The Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital was often presented with the strangest cases, so often that the medical personnel had stopped questioning the curious events they witnessed. This morning was particularly busy. The chart she was reading described the injuries that a patient admitted late at night had sustained. It seemed the man had hit his head pretty badly -- he had a severe concussion. The reason why Melissa was frowning was that earlier this morning, she had dealt with another patient presenting very similar injuries. Furthermore, both men had been admitted at the same time. Shaking her head, Melissa decided to think it was a coincidence.

In her experience, every time something similar had happened and she had inquired about it, the patients had always blatantly lied. She had asked Jamie about it -- the teenager could easily overhear the patients and their close relations from his desk at the reception -- but the blond boy didn't have any more insight into the situation than she did. Ignoring the obvious connection between the two patients, Melissa got back to work. Lately, she had been putting in more hours. She did not want to worry Scott about it, but money was becoming a challenge. The nurse went to check on a patient, then another, and another. The morning went by quickly as she worked harder than ever.

When noon struck, Melissa was still working, Lydia and Scott were still sleeping and Derek was still parked across the street from the McCall house. Stiles was up, so was Jamie. The two had been talking, Stiles telling his friend how Allison's mother had looked at him like he was a madman when he had went to the Argent House to check on Allison. He had been scared Derek had abducted the girl or did something nefarious instead of driving her home from the party. As it had turned out, Allison was safely home, leading to Stiles' panic to be baseless.

The hyperactive teen had also been making preparations for the next full moon, buying chains in case he ever needed to restrain his friend. The cashier had looked at him sideways but he had brushed it off. Scott's and everyone else's safety were more important. After hiding the chains in a sport bag, Stiles had resumed his research on lycanthropy, hoping to learn more information.

Jamie would have helped him but he was expected at the hospital that afternoon. The blue eyed teen tried to wake himself up, splashing ice cold water on his face and drinking coffee after coffee, but nothing seemed to be working. Dark shadows had appeared under his eyes, his skin was pale. He hadn't been sleeping properly lately, he was too busy stitching wounds or running into the woods instead. Nevertheless, after a quick meal, he headed to the hospital. The afternoon went by slowly. He exchanged a few words with Melissa and some of the other nurses and doctors, but they were all kept busy by the continuous flow of patients walking in and out of the hospital.

When the Sun set, the teens all looked at it disappear with apprehension in their hearts. They certainly did not want a repeat of the last couple of nights. To their relief, absolutely nothing happened. This kept true the entire following day. The only notable even that took place was that the boys met in Stiles' room. Scott had showed them his arm, that had been pierced by an arrow. Somehow, the wound had healed, just like the bite mark on his side. They then spent time racking their brains on Scott's behalf: he really needed to find a believable excuse for Allison, to explain why he had so unceremoniously left her at the party.

As expected, Stiles and Jamie only came up with the most ridiculous scenarios, one of them ending in Allison fleeing the country because of Scott. Scott hesitated between laughing with or at his friends, but at least he was distracted. As for his excuse, he decided to be as honest as he possibly could be.

When Monday came around, the teens were well-rested and ready to tackle a new school week. Scott spent the majority of his day trying to get Allison's attention but the girl always seemed to be looking elsewhere. It was only at the end of the last period, just before lacrosse practice, that Scott managed to catch up with her. She was on the school steps, walking towards a car. Scott called her named and she turned back to face him. She did not look happy to see the teen.

"So, what happened?" she started, her voice unwavering. "You left me at the party."

"Yeah... I... I know..." Scott managed, a look of embarrassment on his face, "I'm sorry, I really am. But you have to trust me, I had a really good reason."

"Did you get sick?" Allison questioned.

"I definitely got an attack or something..." Scott answered vaguely.

"Am I gonna get a good explanation?" Allison sighed. She wanted to act angry, but the look on Scott's face had already convinced her that he, indeed, must have had a good reason to leave.

"Can you just trust me on this one?"

Scott really dreaded having to lie to the girl. He was a terrible liar, she would see right through him. Allison put her hair behind her ear -- a nervous habit Scott noticed she had -- before asking, "Am I going to regret this?"

"Probably..." Scott admitted, making her laugh. "So, is that a yes? Do you give me a second chance?"

"Definitely yes..." she whispered, getting closer to him. So close he would just have to bend down for his lips to meet hers. Their moment was interrupted by a loud honk. Both teens turned their heads, seeing a man getting out of a car.

"It's my Dad. I better go," Allison explained before joining her father.

Scott smiled, watching her go. As she was getting inside the vehicle, his eyes landed on her father. Scott froze in recognition. The blue eyes, the stern face... it was the man from the woods. The one who shot an arrow through his arm.

Allison's father was a werewolf hunter.