x x
The morning bristled around Scott, the whir of his bike's engine ceasing as he grabbed a parking spot in front of the high school.
Tugging his helmet off of his head, Scott hesitated as he spotted familiar motorcycles in the corner of his eye. He climbed off his dirt bike, finding Ethan and Aiden waiting for him. Setting the helmet on his seat, he met them in the middle. "You're back in school?"
"No," Ethan replied, "just to talk."
Happening across the conversation, Stiles made a surprised noise, "That's kind of a change of pace for you guys. Seeing as how usually, you're just hurting, maiming and killing."
"You need a pack," retorted Aiden. "We need an alpha."
"Yeah," Stiles drew out, "absolutely not. That's hilarious, though."
Ethan attempted to stress the situation, "You came to us for help. We helped."
"You beat his face into a bloody pulp," Stiles countered as he absently held the straps of his backpack. "That's not helping. In my opinion, that's actually counterproductive."
"Why would I say yes?" Scott asked the twins, wondering if they could really redeem themselves.
"We'd add strength," said Aiden matter-of-factly. "We'd make you more powerful. There's no reason to say no."
Stiles eccentrically rolled his eyes, in disbelief that they would actually think that.
Isaac approached from behind, El's keys around his finger. "I can think of one," he said as he stopped next to Scott. "Like the two of you holding Derek's claws while Kali impaled Boyd." He glanced to Stiles and Scott with his arms crossed. "In fact, I don't know why we're not impaling them right now."
Stiles nodded, agreeing with Isaac for once in his life.
Aiden snarled, baring his teeth as his eyes sparked blue. "You wanna try?"
When Isaac made a step forward without an ounce of fear, Scott grabbed his wrist and held him back.
Scott finally shook his head, "Sorry, but they don't trust you. And neither do I."
The trio walked between the twins towards the school, Isaac trailing smugly.
"What now?" Ethan questioned, the two turning out of the way.
Aiden's eyes fell on the toilet paper covered school sign, an idea brimming.
Looking to his brother, Ethan knew exactly what he was thinking. "No. No way," he said with a laugh, shaking his head.
"We never finished."
"And we don't have to," Ethan retorted.
Aiden halfly grinned, "What if I want to?"
Ethan stared at the building, bewildered. "You...you seriously want to go back to high school?" He turned his eyes to his twin, "Is this about Lydia?"
"This," countered Aiden, "is about getting Scott to change his mind. We're not just betas anymore. We're omegas. The bitches, remember?"
Ethan, however, liked to not think about it.
"When everyone we've screwed over finds out we don't have a pack anymore, what do you think's going to happen?" Aiden asked. "We're dead on our own."
Eyes trailing the building, Ethan didn't agree. "Dead's still better than being back in high school. I'm not doing it. No way."
Aiden only smiled, having caught a glimpse of Ethan's reasoning.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, "What?" In his twin's silence, he looked over his shoulder only to find Danny laughing with his infamous ex boyfriend.
Pretending it stung, Aiden feigned pain.
Quickly turning back to Aiden, Ethan said, "I'm not taking math."
"I'll take it for you," Aiden said with a grin before practically bolting.
Ethan sighed begrudgingly, knowing nothing good ever came within Beacon Hills High.
Stiles agreed in a flash of a moment, a roll of toilet paper smacking into his nose as he and Scott went through the double doors of the west wing.
"All right, that's my face!" he shouted as it bounced off his shoulder. He sighed, walking through the hall with Scott. "Hey, dude," he smacked Scott's chest, "good decision, buddy. Good alpha decision."
"I hope so," Scott replied as they came across Stiles' locker.
"No," countered Stiles, "you know so." He undid his locker combo, catching Scott staring across the hall as he took off his backpack. "What are you looking at?"
"Me?" he questioned, trying to play it off.
"You," Stiles repeated, glancing back to Kira. "You looking at her?"
"Her?" Scott played dumb, "Who her?"
"Her her," emphasized Stiles as he leafed through his things. "Kira. You like her?"
"No," he said too quickly. "I mean...uh...yeah. Yeah, she's okay. She's new."
"So," Stiles said nonchalantly, "ask her out."
Scott's eyebrows lifted, "Now?"
"Yes, now." Stiles clipped his locker shut, swinging his bag back over his shoulder.
"Right now?"
"Right now. Scott," Stiles said as they headed down the hall, putting his hands on Scott's shoulders, "I don't think you get it. You're an alpha. You're the apex predator. Everyone wants you. You're like, the hot girl that every guy wants."
"The hot girl?" Scott questioned, barely noting Isaac's arrival.
"You are the hottest girl," Stiles encouragingly said before backing away for class.
Unsure of what he'd just walked in on, Isaac looked to Scott. "What?"
"I'm the hot girl," Scott repeated.
Isaac hesitantly nodded, not sure of what else to say. "Yes...you are."
x x
"Peek-a-boo."
Coach Finstock peered into his office, cautious eyes and movements as he lingered around. He checked hesitantly, flashes of horrible birthdays flickering across his memory. He found a neatly wrapped box with a bow on his desk, situated perfectly in the middle. With narrowed eyes, he slowly approached the present.
Coach yanked the lid up, wincing lightly as he expected to be blown back into the wall or lose a hand. He looked into the box, it crammed with nails and screws. "That's all you got?" laughed Coach with slight surprise. "That's it?" Shaking his head, he dropped down into his chair with a triumphant smile.
However, it faded fast.
"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, his chair disassembling itself as he crashed to the ground with a clatter.
Attached to Coach's office, his classroom filled with econ students broke out into laughter as the sounds of dismay traveled out to them.
Coach emerged from his office moments later, "Mischief Night, Devil's Night. I don't care what you call it. You little punks are evil." He observed his grinning class begrudingly. "You think it's funny every Halloween my house gets egged? A man's house is supposed to be his castle. Mine's a frickin' omelette." His eyes fell across another present, "Oh, this? We're gonna do this again? I don't think so." Swiftly, he shoved it off his desk without remorse.
However, the box's contents shattered in response.
Coach hesitated, crouching down and retrieving a broken mug bearing '#1 Coach.' He scrounged for the card, "Happy Birthday, Love Greenberg." He swore under his breath, realizing he would have to break out the superglue.
Further back within the classroom beyond a grinning Scott and Stiles, Lydia distractedly swatted as a buzzing lingered around her.
Danny, catching Lydia's movements, narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?" he questioned in a concerned whisper.
"There's a fly," she defended shortly.
There, however, wasn't a fly, but there was something terribly wrong.
Even if Lydia didn't know it, the banshee side of her did.
x x
Eichen House swelled in its insanity, the soundproof floor howling within territory unknown on the brochure.
"And you just let them stay up there?" Elora questioned as she walked along the dark corridor baring cells fitted for those much stronger than the average man.
"Versus leaving them out in the open," Dr. Fenris said as he accompanied the witch, "yes. This is optimal."
"This is inhumane, Doc."
"Ms. Danielson, they would be treated humanely if they were human. They aren't." Fenris, aware he was with the niece of the woman who ruined his career, wore a white lab coat unbuttoned over a dress shirt and tie. "These are creatures who haven't learned how to adapt."
"Non-adaptation doesn't deserve a cell," Elora countered. Her eyes trailed along a scaled creature with a slitted gaze on her, any humanistic nature gone.
"They remain here instead of killing countless people." Conrad knew not all were bad, but he hadn't seen enough good to redeem the entire existence of supernatural creatures. "They may remain in these cells, but they aren't causing havoc. They're fed, treated and contained."
Elora scanned the cells, trying to restrain her desire to unlatch the doors. She knew their danger, but she knew it was upsetting the balance.
Kill or be killed. That was how it worked.
"How do you even come across them?" El questioned. "A hunter would kill them, not bring them to a safe haven that doubles as a prison."
Dr. Fenris hesitated, "We have a specialist."
Elora's eyebrows lifted, "Do you...you have a royal dog catcher?"
"In a way, I suppose you could put it like that." Fenris brought out his key card, coming across the end of the hall. "Are you sure about this?"
"Oh, I'm sure," she replied with a light sigh.
Fenris unlocked the final gate, not following Elora into the secure cell space where a figure remained behind a glass wall. "Try not to fall into a coma on your first day."
"I'll do my best," El said in response as the gate shut behind her.
"I was wondering when you'd come."
Elora softly smiled, "Good to see you, Valack."
A laugh came from behind the tempered glass, "You look wonderful, Danielson." Well aged with a bandage wrapped around his skull, Dr. Valack stood from his bed.
"And you look suppressed," replied Elora warmly. "How's the cell?"
"Rather lonely." Valack examined El curiously. "Your power...its grown."
"Indeed," El said as a green covered hardback appeared in her palm. "Care for something other than sappy romance novels?"
Valack laughed, "You know me so well, kid."
"Apparently not well enough to know why your sorry ass got thrown in here." Elora apparated the novel onto Valack's bed, eyes unwavering from him.
"I was..." Valack lightly sighed, "unprofessional in my execution of certain things."
Elora's expression was unreadable, "Clearly."
"You've not come to mock me, my dear, so what brings you to my humble cell?" Valack thumbed the thin pages of the crime novel, glancing up to the witch.
"Curiosity."
Valack's eyebrows rose, "You may have to elaborate."
El's arms crossed casually, "How's your book doing?"
"It's not on any bestseller list, now is it?"
"Just us, then." Thoughts of distant clicks filtered in the back of her mind, memories stirring from a havoc filled fall years before.
"What's bothering you?" he asked with an inquisitive eye.
"Can you feel the change in the air?" Elora's eyes remained on the ex communicated doctor.
Valack blinked, "It's not like they let me out for playtime."
"You know what I mean, Valack. This is deep rooted, old. Ancient, even. Something is very, very wrong."
A low smile flashed across Valack's lips, "Total destruction, Elora. That's what I sense."