@Sᴛɪʟᴇs-Is-Tʜᴇ-Nɪɢʜᴛ
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Stiles was completely out of patience by the time school ended on Friday. He'd gotten in trouble for going out to find that dead body, Scott was acting weird, Pippa was acting weird, now Scott was in love, had developed amazing hand-eye coordination, and maybe... a werewolf? That left Stiles frantically researching in his room with Devereaux, who was being absolutely no help with any of Stiles' drama. He'd also slept weird the night before, and his neck was apparently going to make that his problem for the rest of the day.
"When did Scott say that he'd be here again?" he asked Dev. Who didn't even look up from his book, so Stiles capped the marker he held in his mouth and threw it, hitting his friend in the jaw.
"Dude! This is covered in your spit!" Dev shouted, "That's so fucking nasty, what the hell is wrong with you?" He leant off the bed to grab the book that he'd dropped, and not-so gently threw it at Stiles in retaliation.
"Maybe next time I ask you a question, you'll answer sooner," Stiles said smugly. Unsuccessfully, he tried to dodge the book, but it still hit the outside of his arm.
"Ugh, he said he was on his way like ten minutes ago, so I don't know? He rides a bike dude, it's a little bit harder to estimate that."
"Maybe for you."
"Okay, do you know when he's going to get here then?"
Stiles leaned over to grab stuff from the printer, avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it.
"That's what I fucking thought," Dev said smugly, "And you know he's going to be pissed off when he gets here."
"What?" Stiles snapped to look at Dev. "You said that you believed me. I'm going to save him from himself, there's no way that he can be mad at me for that."
"Well first of all— I never said that I believed you." Dev sassed. "I said I believed that you believe in this whole werewolf thing. And I'll hear what you have to say and support you, but I don't think that I can believe you right now. You have to admit it's a crazy idea- even if you end up being right- it's still insane."
Stiles shook his head, of all the people that he expected to reject his theory, Devereaux wasn't one of them. Their favorite pastime was coming up with increasingly ridiculous conspiracies together.
"And you have to admit, we do this sort of thing to Scott all the time. He's going to think that it's a joke, and then he'll be pissed off that you tried to stop him from going out with Allison as a part of it."
Dev had a point there, but Stiles wasn't about to give in just because of one good argument. It's not like he ever had before at least.
"Relax, he's not going to be mad." Stiles coaxed, scrambling all of his research together, "Look at how many things I printed out. We've never had this much research for a conspiracy before."
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Scott was beyond mad.
He was actually beyond pissed too.
Neither Stiles or Devereaux had ever seen him that angry. They exchanged a look as Scott shouted. There was no way that this was the kid they grew up with. As soon as the word werewolf left Stiles' mouth, he had turned into a stranger.
"Are you seriously wasting my time with this?!" he scoffed, yanking his bag off of Stiles' bed, "You know that I'm picking Allison up in an hour."
"You should really hear him out, Scott. He's been researching all afternoon," Dev interjected.
"Oh not you too Dev."
"Seriously, just look at all the things he's printed out."
"This is getting ridiculous. Once or twice is funny, but now? Now it's time for you guys to grow the hell up."
"It's not a joke dude!" Dev snapped, pushing himself up off of the floor. Stiles leapt between the two. He wasn't usually the peacekeeper among the three- that was Devereaux, but when someone hit a nerve, the kid would stick up for himself. Stiles should know, Dev had given both of them a black eye in a fight a few years ago. The atmosphere was too intense for just a little schoolyard scuffle though, who knows what they would do to each other.
Or if it would be as easily forgiven.
"Hey! I saw you on the field today, Scott. What you did wasn't just amazing, all right?" He stuttered, definitely feeling the tension rolling off of Scott's body. "It was impossible."
"Yeah, so I made a good shot."
"No!" Stiles grabbed the bag off of Scott's shoulder and tossed it back on the bed, and Dev leaned on the wall in front of the door to block his exit. "You made an incredible shot! I mean... the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes?"
"People don't just suddenly do that overnight," Dev said, keeping a close eye on Scott. He'd learned this sort of wariness from his sister, but he'd never really needed to use it before tonight. Pip was always paranoid enough for the both of them. Still, he monitored Scott's body language, waiting to see exactly when he'd explode.
"Because they can't just suddenly do that overnight," Stiles emphasized, weaving around the room as Scott tried to maneuver around him. "And there's the vision, and the senses, and don't even think that I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."
"Okay!" Scott shouted, "Dude, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?! What? No!" he rushed out, "The full moon's tonight! Don't you get it?"
"What are you trying to do?" Scott yelled, inching closer to Stiles. "I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?"
Dev pushed himself off of the wall, pointing an accusing finger in Scott's face. "You're being a selfish dick! Not everything is about you Scott, he's your friend asshole, you know he just wants what's best for you."
"I'm trying to help," Stiles said, gently moving Dev back with a hand on his shoulder. "You're cursed, Scott. You know, and it's not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It also happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."
"Bloodlust?"
"Yeah, your urge to kill."
"I'm already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles."
"Oooooh, does threatening your friends make you feel like a big man Scott?" Dev taunted. He was unable to stop himself from escalating with how much his frustration was building. The words were out of his mouth before he even had the time to think about regretting them.
"Shut the fuck up Dev! I don't remember asking what you had to say."
"And I don't remember needing permission to speak, asshole," he said, though his gut told him to relax, and leave the room. Who the fuck did Scott think he was all of a sudden?
Stiles was frantically searching through the junk on his desk as Scott and Dev glowered at each other from only a foot apart. If things got physical, Stiles didn't have to know much about werewolves to know that this would be the first fight Dev would lose to Scott. He also knew that given how small his room was, something would definitely get broken.
"Calm down Dev, he's not worth it right now." Stiles placated, pushing Dev to sit in his desk chair. "Look, you gotta hear this: 'The Change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.' Alright? I've never seen anything that raises your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date!"
He began to fish through Scott's bag for his phone, thinking that at last he'd gotten through to Scott. He was only trying to keep them both safe.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Scott asked.
"He's trying to help you protect Allison dipshit. Unless you wanted to have a dead girlfriend," Dev said, grabbing Scott's arm.
"Protect her? From what, all this werewolf bullshit?"
"From you Scott!" Dev shouted. He'd started off unconvinced about Stiles' theory, but this was not at all like Scott. Even if he ended up not being a werewolf, something was going on. Clearly he was in no position to be going out tonight. Allison seemed way too nice to be on the receiving end of his attitude, even if it was just for one night.
"I'm gonna call her right now," Stiles mumbled as he finally felt the phone in his hand. "I'm cancelling the date."
"No!" Scott roared, "Give it to me!"
He tried to lunge for Stiles, who was beginning to type in her number, but Dev's hand on his arm pulled him back. Scott turned, and with all of his strength shoved Dev off of him. The boy flew back into the wall and fell onto the floor.
The force of his impact caused a few books to fall off the shelf he landed below, he cradled his head with his arms as they rained down on his body. Some ancient prey instinct held him in place, his anger extinguished by an icy tide of fear.
Fear of his oldest friend.
Dev couldn't have moved even if he wanted to, his brain having effectively shut off. The carpet was coarse against his face, and there was a sneaker digging into his hip, and he still laid there. Frozen.
Scott didn't even glance over his shoulder as he charged the saucer-eyed Stiles. Grabbing him by the shirt, he slammed him against the wall in one fluid motion. Stiles flinched as he saw Scott's fist begin its launch sequence, with its obvious destination being his face.
Eyes screwed closed, Stiles wondered how things had gone so wrong, he was only trying to help. Why couldn't Scott trust him?
Scott seemed to realize what he'd been about to do, and instead redirected his rage to tossing Stiles' desk chair to the ground. Panting, he managed to calm down.
His throat was tight, and he struggled to swallow the sinking guilt in his chest when he saw the way Stiles and Dev were shaking. Neither one of his friends would meet his eye as he apologized, and rushed out of the room. There was no way he was missing that party.
Stiles gave Dev a hand up, and they both silently set the room back into its usual state of cozy disorder. Dev was rubbing his shoulder, when he saw the deep gouges on the back of the desk chair. Blinking away the haze that seemed to have fallen over his eyes, the reality of it set in.
"Stiles," he whispered, pointing to the marks.
"I know," Stiles responded, already tearing at his bottom lip in worry.
"Scott's a werewolf."
"I know," his hands now began to scrub at his head and the sides of his mouth.
"We can't let him go to that party. My sister will be there!"
Stiles shot Dev a look, "And like most of Beacon Hills' social elite,"
"Oh yeah, those guys too... but like I said, Pip will be there! You saw what Scott just did! He could tear her apart!" Dev exploded, tugging on the ends of his long hair. Either Pip got seriously hurt, or she revealed her identity to the whole school trying to stop Scott.
"I know," Stiles repeated, this time sighing as though the gravity of the party had just hit him. He was exhausted.
It had been a long day, and it was barely even six o' clock.
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Lydia's house looked amazing, exactly the kind of party that you'd expect from the perfectionist and her friends. Colored lights were hung with care, there were a few streamers, balloons strewn into the corners, and the snack table was all decked out for the inevitable teen gorging.
All it took was an hour, and Xan's sacrifice of feeling in her arms, and everything was perfectly arranged to be destroyed by the drunk guests. Who were due to arrive at any second now, if they weren't familiar with the concept of being fashionably late.
"Okay, last check, how do I look?" Lydia said, twirling in front of Xan and Jackson.
"So cute!"
"You look hot babe."
"You know a little enthusiasm would be nice!" Lydia huffed, checking out the window to see cars arriving, "This is the first party of the lacrosse season, kind of a big deal." Soon they would line the street, as her neighbors would surely complain in the morning. That was Hungover Lydia's problem, however.
"I know... I'm just in a mood, I'll get over it." Xan said, arms crossed over waist.
She wanted the party to start already, she needed a distraction. The hectic work of decorating while Lydia and Jackson argued over how to set-up the speakers had allowed her to get her mind off of Ethan. Now that things had slowed down, and the waiting game had begun, her guilt, dread, and sadness had snuck back in. It felt like she was sinking back into an emotional quicksand, all the things she didn't want to think about tonight steadily enveloping her.
She wanted to be dancing in a crowd of people who didn't care about her problems, feeling the bass deep in her bones, and most of all, she wanted to be drunk. Drunk enough that it didn't fucking matter where Ethan was tonight, what he was doing, what would happen in the morning.
"Don't let Dr. Doom get you down Xanny- you're way out of his league and you know that," Lydia soothed. Well, Lydia attempted to soothe.
"It's not about leagues and you know that Lyds, I love him," Xan sighed, caving into herself even further as she leaned against the counter.
Her thick hair was loose for once, and she tilted her head down so it fell in front of her shoulders, draping around her like a security blanket. The doorbell rang, something she was incredibly grateful for. She felt bad enough, the last thing she needed was Lydia's 'break-up-with-him' speech.
"Whatever, I'll keep my opinions about him to myself, but only for your sake." Lydia grumbled, lifting a finger, "And only for tonight!" She pointed the finger at Xan as she made her way over to the door, allowing enough time to pass to seem nonchalant. With a smug smile, she let the first eager guests into her home, as Jackson turned up the music to greet them.
Xan watched quietly as Lydia bustled around, hugging and chatting with those she'd deemed worthy of her attention. Shifting her elbows back onto the kitchen island, Xan dropped her mopey posture, crossing one ankle over the other. Leaning her head back, her mouth slid into a lazy half smile, as if she had better places to be.
Xan looked down at the small party, attempting to look cool and unapproachable to avoid conversation. She wanted to be distracted, sure, but being Lydia's friend meant nobody knew how to talk to her like she was a normal person. They all wanted something, and she didn't want to be fawned over, or have to hollowly laugh at bad jokes until she was left alone.
"Here," Jackson whispered, harshly nudging her shoulder with a red solo cup. "Some enthusiasm juice. You should really drink it."
"Really? I thought I was going too far in my excitement for this party," Xan said sarcastically, already taking a huge gulp of the alcohol.
"Oh yeah, you're the real life of this party, that's why you're standing all alone."
"Ain't that the truth," she said, taking another drink. "By the way, this tastes terrible. Is there fucking kiwi in this?"
"Yeah, it's Caprisun and vodka, I didn't realize you had such high standards for your alcohol." Jackson said, surprising Xan. It was no secret that he and Lydia had high standards for pretty much everything, it's one of the things that made them work. But given the fact that they were underaged, Xan guessed it was a case of beggar's can't be choosy, over actual taste.
"I don't, I just hate strawberry kiwi. This is practically swill," she whined, draining her drink and making a face to further display her disgust.
Jackson rolled his eyes, and began to walk over to some lacrosse guys that were calling him over. "Well you better drink up Hippy-Pippy, because that's all we got,"
Xan watched him disappear into the considerably larger crowd, before turning back to the drinks. Grumbling, she found the alcohol, the punch bowl being full of the god awful Caprisun Cocktail. If her only option of getting drunk kiwi-free was doing straight vodka shots, then so be it.
Sometimes, you had to suck up the things that life gave you. The whole lemons into lemonade, potatoes into french fries kind of deal. Well, maybe potatoes into vodka was more appropriate in this case.
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She was two shots in and still hovering over the snack table when Allison found her, Scott standing behind her like a lovesick shadow. The party was now in full swing, and Xan had to shout to be heard over the music. Maybe not quite as loud as she did, but she didn't really care all that much.
"Oh my gods you caaaaammmme!" she cheered, waving her hands in the air.
"I did, even tipsy I can't get anything past you," Allison chuckled, glancing over at Scott as he brushed past her to fill their drinks.
"Nope, I'm too sharp for that," Xan said, beginning to sway to the music. Gods she fucking loved this song. She didn't think she'd heard it before.
"Where's your boyfriend?" Allison shouted, going on her tiptoes to search through the crowd, "Or are you trying to sneak him past me?"
Suddenly, Xan reminded Allison of a chastised dog. She'd frozen, arms falling to her sides, and eyes glued to the floor. Her bottom lip trembled for a second, before Xan turned to the table and poured herself another shot.
"Oh he had some family nearby that he had to visit tonight," she said, taking the shot with a grimace before she continued, "Some things are just more important."
"Yeah," Allison said softly, placing a hand on Xan's shoulder. "It still sucks though, I saw how excited you were today. It's always disappointing when plans don't work out, no matter what the reason is."
Scott served as Xan's savior by shoving a red cup between the two girls. It was rude, and very unlike him, but the buzz in her mind didn't register that. She was too busy mentally singing his praises to care anyway. Allison was sweet, and shaping up to be an amazing friend, but this was exactly the type of conversation that she was hoping to avoid tonight.
"Thanks Al," she said with a shrug, "I'll let you guys get on with your lil date. I've gotta go find Ro anyways."
She took the bottle of vodka for good measure, and helped herself to another shot as she danced her way around the house. Jumping and twirling with the music, all of her thoughts were slammed out of her brain by the dizziness, the alcohol, and the throng of warm bodies that moved around her. Like a therapeutic centrifuge.
This was it, what she needed. She wasn't Xan right now, she was just a body. A body that was having a lot of fun dancing horribly and embarrassing Lydia to no end. Several times someone would try to get her attention, but she only bounced away, migrating through her classmates to avoid all interaction. They were like flies to her, and she only brushed them off, too emotionally exhausted to even feel outrage over their entitlement to her.
Two shots later, and she knew that she had to take a break, or else her delightful buzz would turn into really reckless behavior. Xan squeezed her way to the outskirts of the party, circling for a little bit, before finding a nice patch of wall to lean against. She was perfectly positioned for people watching, between the main party in the living room and the smaller clusters on the patio.
From where she stood, she could see Allison and Scott clearly enjoying each other. It almost felt like a slap in the face seeing them so happy, gods she really needed to get her jealousy in check.
Sure mortals had a lot of great things going for them, long life spans and high school sweethearts being a few, but being a demigod wasn't so terrible. She had a larger family than anyone she knew, she met all sorts of historical figures, and there was no comparison to the euphoria of swinging a sword, the air it sliced through beating back across her face. Xan would likely die young, as well as many of her friends.
But at least she never had to worry about having a purpose while she was alive.
Still, the alcohol had made her even more fragile now, and she needed to do something before she ended up crying the rest of the night. That'd really put her bad dancing into perspective for Lydia.
Finally, she remembered her earlier quest to find her brother, beginning to gather up the willpower and soberness to do so. Luckily, she didn't even have to. Her foot barely lifted off of the ground when she saw Stiles passing by, and her hand latched onto his arm lightning quick. He squeaked as she dragged him to stand next to her.
"Jeez dude, jumpy much?" she asked, giggling like a maniac. Holy Hera she needed to sober up.
"Oh! Pi-Pippa! Sorry," Stiles stammered, his face red and he felt warm all over as he looked at her. It was like he had just spent a summer afternoon laying out in the sun, the heat tingling across his skin as his heart raced.
She looked stunning. He loved when she was able to wear her hair down, it was so long and shiny. She looked almost like an elven princess, something more ancient and elegant than any human could dream of being. A Pre-Raphaelite painting come to life.
"I-I didn't see you there. Not that you're easy to miss! You're not- like you're totally not. I was just in my own- lost in my-my uh thoughts and stuff. I mean- what I meant to say was, um- good to see you here. And uh- you- you look great."
"I'm joking Stiles," she laughed. "Don't worry so much, I've known you since we were kids."
"Yeah- yeah cause I'm Dev's friend, Stiles," he rushed, eyes flashing to check on Scott. "I live just up the road from you."
"I know," Xan groaned with a roll of her eyes. Why was he always so worried about saying the wrong thing around her? He'd always been anxious, but ever since middle school he'd been acting like she'd explode if he made the slightest misstep. "I get that we don't really run in the same circles and all, but just because I'm popular doesn't mean you have to worry about what you say to me you know."
There, maybe this would finally settle the whole issue. Xan didn't really want to be besties with Stiles, but he wasn't too bad for small talk. If she could get him relaxed enough to breathe around her.
For his part, Stiles gaped at her. Did this mean she wanted to be friends? More? Was this an invitation to talk to her more?
"I mean, you've been Ro's friend since kindergarten. I held your hand when you had to get that Lego taken out of your nose because Scott and Ro refused. I've seen you in a Batman costume on four distinct Halloweens. There's not really much left for you to do to embarrass yourself around me." Xan shrugged.
Stiles wanted to die right where he stood. Lightning, aneurysm, freak streamer strangulation. Anything. Dear God, Dear Satan, Dear Santa, please take him out of his misery now. It'd be the humane thing to do.
Her words were honestly sort of comforting, but not enough to outweigh the mortification of his childhood memories. Of course, most of those were from a time before he knew he liked her. Before he wanted nothing more than to impress her. Two of the Batman incidents were after, but he knew very little about how to impress girls in the eighth grade. He'd only recently gotten any clue, and he was still objectively terrible at it.
"Yeah... uh you're right," he said weakly, his cheeks practically sizzling under her stare.
How did she get her eyeliner like that? He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to do it less or more, it almost seemed to give her eyes a hypnotizing effect, a subtle haze contrasting her skin. Which almost seemed to glow?
It must've been a weird trick of the lights, there was no way she was glowing. Stiles realized he was squinting, and vigorously shook his head to get it to stop. A little mental Etch-A-Sketch should clear that right up.
"Always am," Xan said with a cheeky grin.
Deciding to enjoy a few minutes of comfortable silence, she snagged the bottle he was holding, and waterfalled the sweet hydration into her mouth. It was refreshing, having had only vodka to drink since she arrived, and it helped soothe the ache that threatened to punish her in the morning. Her cheeks were flush from the alcohol and dancing, and she could feel her mascara beginning to flake. It made her eyes itch, but she had to resist or she'd make it worse.
"Don't worry, I made sure not to get any of my cooties in your water," she joked as she passed it back. Stiles only nodded weakly again as he leant beside her against the wall.
They were standing so close, and his brain unhelpfully chose that moment to alert him that he hadn't seen Ethan anywhere. As if Stiles would do anything with that information, making a move on someone with a boyfriend was dickiest of all dick moves. If Pippa wanted to be with Stiles, she'd let him know. And she wouldn't need alcohol to do it.
It was annoying not being an asshole sometimes.
He bet Jackson just went around doing whatever he wanted all the time and never feeling guilty for his actions. Scratch that, he knew that was how Jackson moved through the world. The kid walked around like his spine was made out of condensed country club memberships.
Almost half an hour passed, the two occasionally joking or nudging each other, playing hot potato with his water bottle, passing smiles between each other just as quickly. Unfortunately just as Stiles felt safe bringing up Ethan, and the grand topic of his absence, he saw Scott shoving through the party and back into the house. Just behind him was Allison, and then Dev, making a beeline for Stiles and dragging him away from Pippa. He could hear her following behind anyway, jogging to catch up with Allison.
It was like a weird and chaotic game of 'follow the leader', all of them calling out for Scott to stop, and asking the person in front of them what was going on.
Tumbling out onto the dark lawn, the light from the open front door cast their long shadows out on the grass. Stiles and Dev ran out onto the street, Scott had already leapt into his car and peeled down the street.
"Pip! Go with Allison! Stay at home!" her brother shouted to her, leaning halfway out of the Jeep's passenger window. Stiles gave her one last glance, his worry for Scott overshadowing the regret he felt about not getting to spend more time with Pippa. Just as she began to argue back, he slammed on the gas and they sped after their possibly werewolf friend.
"What the fuck was that?!" Xan yelled, shrieking in frustration. She spun in place, getting a solid bearing on her surroundings, and went to interrogate Allison. Calling her name, but the girl seemed locked in conversation with some guy on the curb.
Xan's stomach churned, the throbbing music leaked from the house behind her, mimicking the racing of her heart. What the hell was going on, had everyone lost their minds? At least the stress of it all cleared some more of the alcohol from her brain, she thought as she shot forward, placing herself between Allison and the man.
"I'm sorry," she said, steel voice making it clear that she wasn't sorry at all. "But who are you again?"
"Derek," he explained. "As I was just saying to Allison, I'm a friend of Scott's. He asked me to give her a ride."
"No you're not," she retorted, "I never see you hanging out with my brother."
"That's because I'm more of a family friend."
"Sure," she agreed, staring him down. This was a first for her, "Derek" —if that even was his real name, seemed to be immune to her hostility. He stared blankly right back at the two girls, making Xan's bristling and defensive posture an overreaction in comparison.
"Xan come on, how else are we going to get home?" Allison pleaded.
"So are you a professional taxi driver, or just some good Samaritan?" Xan asked, brushing Allison's hand off of her arm.
"Good Samaritan," Derek nodded, going to open the door for the girls.
Xan dug her heels into the ground, and flung her arm out to stop Allison from entering. "So you've just got nothing better to do with your Friday night than troll around for high school parties?"
"Xan you're being rude," Allison hissed, moving around her into the back seat of the car, "Besides, I trust Scott. Even if he has a lot of explaining to do later."
"Allison no!" Xan protested, sounding more like a deflating balloon each second, "Stranger Danger! Stranger Dan—"
"Did you also need a ride? I don't want to strand you out here all by yourself," Derek demurred, acting unaffected by the stage whispering. This chick was making everything harder than it really had to be.
"Yes," she stiffly replied, "And I'll have you know, I'll make you regret it if you so much as think about trying anything."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Derek said smugly, shutting the passenger door after Xan.
"I'm serious, I'm armed," Xan pressed.
"What?!"
"Oh please Allison, a girl's gotta look out for herself," Xan huffed, "Just because you seem to have no instinct for self preservation."
"That's fair," Allison shrugged.
The rest of the ride to Allison's was fairly silent, besides the occasional direction. Xan couldn't tear her eyes away from Derek. It didn't hurt that he was very attractive, but that wasn't the reason for her vigilance. Something about this guy was off, and not in a monster way.
It was all just too convenient that he was there. Then there was the fact that she had never once heard of him. Family friend her ass, her mom and Melissa were practically inseparable since they met, hell they even had joint family vacations. She assessed every single move that he made, remaining stiff and impassive. They were locked in a silent game of chicken, her refusing to look away, and him refusing to acknowledge the boiling force of her gaze.
Damn he was good at this. Which only made him more suspicious...
It was only as they neared Allison's house that Xan allowed her thoughts to drift. She'd be alone with him for the whole ride home. And then... would Ethan be back? Would she talk to him? Pretend everything was fine? Ignore him?
The stress from the night came washing back, as if Xan was on a terrible see-saw, her own Sisyphean punishment. It was Scott, then Allison, then Ethan, then Allison and Scott, then "Derek", then back to Ethan again. Her hair was bound to start falling out if this kept up. She needed another escape, a vacation from this vacation, if you will.
"Hey Al?" she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on Derek, "Do you mind if I stay over at yours tonight? I'll grab some stuff from my place, and then have Ro drop me back off here if that's okay."
"Oh my god that sounds like so much fun!" Allison gushed, "You can borrow some of my clothes if you want, so you don't have to go out of your way."
Derek pulled into Allison's driveway, and glowered at the two girls for not immediately leaping out of his car. Xan just stared back vacantly before responding to Allison.
"That's okay, I have to leave a note for my mom anyway so she knows where I am, it's really no problem," she raised a challenging eyebrow at her chauffeur, daring him to argue.
"Yeah, no problem," Derek said gruffly. It was totally a problem.
"Okay!" Allison chirped, rushing out of the car, "I'll see you when you get back, I can't wait!"
Pulling away from Allison's house, Xan finally let her guard drop around Derek, without Allison here she felt much less obligated to be defensive. There was no one here to keep safe but herself.
"So, you're also a family friend of Scott's?" Derek said, super casually. It was obvious that he wasn't used to small talk, so Xan wasn't sure why he was forcing it.
"I am, I'm not sure about 'also'— considering I've never heard of you before."
Derek quickly glanced at her from the corner of his eye, she was challenging him again. "Ouch," he said, sucking air in over his teeth, "I guess that's one way to find out that we're not as close as I thought."
Xan almost felt bad, almost. Clearly this guy was used to subterfuge. Unfortunately for him, the palms of her hands were itching like crazy, more so as her buzz wore off.
Ψεύδομαι— liar.
She hummed noncommittally, not about to give him any way to build off of his lie. She wasn't going to make things easier for him by politely backtracking.
His sheepish smile dropped from his face, and he focused on the road again. Xan was content to marinate in the awkward silence she'd created. It was so juicy and uncomfortable. Surely this would make him slip up, and she'd be ready for it.
It took a few minutes, but eventually she could sense him starting to turn. There was a weird set in his lips that gave away how uncomfortable he was, clearer than any inane chatter. He was good at pretending, but Xan was even better at making things weird. There was something he wanted to say, and she was set on getting him to crack.
"So... what have you been dreaming about recently?" he finally said.
...
Sometimes, it was possible to overreact.
The words had barely left his mouth and settled into the air around them when she had unbuckled her seat belt and thrown herself out of the moving car. One of her more irrational moves in a while.
Xan wouldn't say she overreacted, but her body might've felt differently as she slammed into the pavement. There was a loud crack in her upper arm, and she was a rotisserie chicken of road rash as she rolled across the cold asphalt. She'd be one walking bruise in the morning for sure.
Panting, she frantically looked up at the red taillights of the Camaro, unable to hear the squealing tires over the blood rushing through her ears. She rested her bleeding cheek on the ground for a second, trying to catch her breath and force herself up. A dried leaf sucked up into her mouth and she choked, hacking it back up as best she could. Shaking, Xan tried to use her good arm to push herself up to a crawl. He'd slammed on the brakes, she had to get the fuck out of here.
"Come on Xan," she grunted, the street and sky cartwheeling around her as she propped herself up, "You can do this."
Gods this was the worst. The street darkened with the absence of Derek's brake lights. He sped away from her as she dragged herself to the sidewalk.
"Yeah you better run bitch," Xan whispered thickly. Her tongue was swollen, she'd probably bitten it on impact.
At least they were on a residential street, the speed limit here was 15, and Derek seemed to obey traffic laws at least. She laughed deliriously at the thought of it. Gods, she could have died. The crushing sense of her own mortality seemed to straighten out the blur of her vision, and set her nerves straight.
Once she made it to the sidewalk, Xan let herself rest on the soothingly cold concrete. It felt nice against her burning scrapes. She began chanting some healing incantations, enough to give her the energy to get home. Ambrosia and nectar could do the rest. Hopefully.
Only an Apollo kid could survive something this stupid.
She hobbled into her dark and hollow house only fifteen minutes later. Knowing as soon as it came into view that no one was home, not even Ro. Damn it. Xan would just have to walk to Allison's. Her steps echoed around her, and the jingle of her keys stabbed at her ears in the relative silence of the house.
Checking the extent of the damage in her bathroom mirror, she held a moment of silence for her favorite dress. It was simple, easy to style, and she'd liked it enough to buy it full price, unable to wait for a sale. The grey sleeves were shredded, and the rest was full of small holes and drenched in small patches of blood and dirt.
Xan had to cut it off, her right arm was practically useless at the moment. There was a small fracture in her humerus, near the shoulder. It was fairly minor, but she knew it was there just as clearly as if she were looking at an x-ray. She just did, and in the same way she knew exactly what to do about it.
Ambrosia would do a lot, but it couldn't work miracles. She'd have to be gentle with it for the next few days. Maybe invent a flu so she could skip cheer practice.
Wrapping her bicep and shoulder gently, Xan made sure to keep the bandage where it couldn't be seen in a t-shirt. Then she got to work on her road rash; eating some ambrosia squares, and dabbing a cloth soaked in nectar on the worst of her scrapes, watching as they began to shrink before her eyes.
Brushing the knots and gravel out of her hair, she gently braided it back from her face, and began to pack a bag for Allison's. There was nothing she could do about the bags under her eyes.
Xan tossed on her largest t-shirt, an old Camp Halfblood one that had been made for Tyson, but still ended up being too small. Smiling at the memory, she tugged on some leggings. Even with how tall she was, the shirt reached halfway down her thighs, and effectively obscured most of her body from scrutiny. Choosing to wear socks and sandals for comfort, she locked the door behind her and headed out to stay with her friend.
It wasn't a bonding activity anymore, Xan was a security detail now.
Even if Derek was just an incredibly weird stranger, who asked teenage girls incredibly invasive questions, he knew where Allison lived. Sure, it could have been a coincidence that he asked an Apollo kid about their dreams.
Xan just wasn't lucky enough for coincidences. She would be lying to herself, and endangering her friend, if she pretended the question was anything but intentional. Everything was a damn struggle lately.
Her skin crawled as a wolf howl pierced the air, and she picked up the pace, ignoring the way her legs begged her to stop moving altogether. Mysteries swirled through her head. Who was Derek? What happened to Scott tonight? Did Derek know about her?
How?
The frigid night air had nothing to do with her persistent shaking. Beacon Hills felt dangerous in a whole new way, she felt exposed and wholly unprepared.
What the fuck was going here, and do I get it to stop?