𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 ♡

Scott stood up from his chair with his teeth gritted and walked to Stiles, kneeling in front of the bag. He dug out the chains from inside the material and brought them up to the human's face. "You think I'm gonna let you put these on and chain me up like a dog?"

"Actually, no." He grabbed Scott's wrist and handcuffed him to the radiator, sprinting backward as his best friend let out angered grunts.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Protecting you from yourself.. and giving you some payback," he replied through staggered breaths. "For making out with Dallas."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas sat at the dining table with her father, pushing her food around her plate with a fork. "Hey, Dallie. I don't want you going out tonight, okay?" He muttered, looking up at her.

The brunette didn't intend to, but his sudden strictness caused her to cock a brow. "Why?"

"Derek Hale is still out there. I don't want you to be on his body count." He hid behind his glass as he replied.

"You don't actually think Derek did it, do you?"

He paused for a second before glancing back down at his place. "I have no reason to not think that."

"But you spoke to him."

"And people have spoken to Ted Bundy, that doesn't mean that they're friends," James answered her back, his tone cold and strict. "I just don't want you going out, okay?"

"Fine." she huffed, leaning back in her seat. "I don't know why everyone's so pent up about it anyway. It didn't sound like Derek," she mumbled the last part, but James Garcia's head snapped up to her.

He squinted his eyes. "What do you mean, it didn't sound like him? He spoke to you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yeah."

He placed his glass down and leaned forward over the table. "What did he say to you, Dallie?"

"The generic serial killer mumbo-jumbo. Nothing to worry about." she brought the glass of lemonade to her lips but jumped when her father slammed his hand down on the table.

"Dallas Kimberly!" he raised his voice, one filled with concern and anger. "What did he say to you?"

She furrowed her eyebrows and stuttered. "He.. he said he wanted me dead."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles Stilinski walked back into his best friend's room, holding a bowl and bottle of liquid. "I brought you some water."

He held up the bowl to the boy, but it wasn't a regular bowl, it was a dog bowl with Scott's name smudged across it with a sharpie. He flicked the cap off the bottle and poured the liquid inside of it before dropping it to the werewolf's feet.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott hissed, throwing the bowl at the Stilinski's turned back. Stiles paused in the doorway before turning to his longtime friend.

"You kissed her, Scott, okay?" he spoke through gritted teeth. "You kissed Dallas. That's, like, the one girl that I've liked since I can remember." he ranted. "And, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, 'it's probably just the full moon.' You know, he doesn't even know what he's doing and tomorrow he'll be back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been." Stiles's voice began to crack. "A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend."

"Do you really think that she'd be interested in you?" he smirked at his best friend's broken expression.

"What?"

"You've spent most the season benched, Stiles." He jeered through his sharp teeth. "She's head cheerleader. Do you honestly think she'd take an interest in you?"

Stiles swallowed harshly and exited the room, trying his best not to murder his friend right then and there. "You're not good enough for her and you know it." he taunted from his bedroom as Stiles found refuge in the hall. "It's pathetic."

The werewolf didn't care as Stiles slid down the wall in sorrow, taking in every word like thick poison. He growled as his wolf-side began to breakthrough.

"Pathetic!"

Scott grunted as he pulled at the metallic handcuffs, his wrist turning a bloodshot red the more he pulled and yanked at it. "Stiles, please let me out."

Stiles held his head in his hands and listened to his best friend's voice echo through the empty halls. "It's the full moon, I swear. You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose." he breathed heavily. "I don't mean it!"

The Stilinski didn't respond, which only made the werewolf's anger levels rise. "Please, Stiles, let me out. It's starting to hurt," he mumbled. "It's not like the first time. Its the full moon. Its Allison.. breaking up with me."

"I know," Stiles spoke under his breath.

"- That it's not 'just taking a break.'" he rambled on, hitting at his best friend's weakness. "She broke up with me... and it's killing me. I feel completely hopeless." he could hear the pain in his voice. "Just, please, let me out."

"I can't."

The moonlight crept through Scott's bedroom window as he was hunched over by the radiator. He tried to push away from the light, but the handcuffs kept him in place. He screeched in pain as he felt himself shift. His teeth extended into monstrous fangs and his eyes glowed like the fiercest of suns. Stiles clasped his hands over his ears and tried to drown out the cries of agony, but he could still hear the yelps shake the walls around him.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas was upstairs in her room, watching the infamous hockey mask of Jason Vorhees flick by her eyes as popped popcorn into her mouth. The brunette's phone was stuck on silent and she didn't notice the numerous texts from Lydia asking about Jackson's whereabouts.

What she also didn't notice, was how her father whisper-yelled to none other than Derek Hale on the phone downstairs.

"He spoke to her, Derek." he panicked. "The fucking thing spoke to my daughter."

"Keep an eye on her and don't let her outside. What did he say?"

James ran a hand across his stubble and clenched his fists. "He wants her dead, he wants to act-"

"Do the Argents know about you and Dallie?" Derek interrupted him.

The Garcia shook his head. "No, not that I know of."

"She's friends with Allison, right? Keep her there for a couple of nights. The Alpha won't risk going anywhere near the hunters without a pack."

"And what if the Argents try something?"

Derek Hale let out a long sigh. "Then you better hope that Dallas knows how to defend herself."

☆ word count: 1,611. ☆