AFTER LACROSSE TRYOUTS, SCOTT REALIZED HE HAD LOST HIS INHALER.
It didn't take him long to trace his steps back to the woods the night before. He must've dropped when he got bit by the dark animal he claimed was a wolf.
Sierra tried not to think about how she could be doing her science homework as they trudged through the leaves, the sun's light peeking through the multitude of trees around them. Stiles focused on quizzing Scott, beyond curious about how well the boy played lacrosse earlier that afternoon.
"I don't know what it was," Scott admitted, unable to explain. "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball." He hesitated for a second before deciding to be honest with his best friends. "And that's not the only weird thing. I...I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things, too."
"Smell things?" Sierra repeated with a crinkle of her nose. "Like what?"
Stiles held up a branch for her to walk under as Scott answered. "Like the mint-mojito gum in your pocket."
She furrowed her eyebrows and stopped to check her pockets. Stiles did the same.
"Scott, I don't have any mint- mojito—" Sierra stopped herself when Stiles held up a loose wrapper with half of a piece stuck to it. They exchanged a look as Scott threw up his hands in disbelief.
"So all this started with a bite," Stiles thought aloud.
Scott's mind automatically started to think of the worst possible scenarios. "What if it's an infection, like, my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"
Sierra went to disagree, but Stiles held up his hand with a teasing smile. "You know what? I think I've heard of this. It's a specific kind of infection," he lied.
Scott stopped in his tracks and turned to the boy with the buzz-cut. "Are you serious?"
Sierra bit her lip instead of talking, letting Stiles mess around with him. Scott was one of the most gullible and oblivious people to walk the planet. Stiles once told her that when she went away for summer camp one year, he convinced Scott that a disease was going around people who hadn't kissed anyone. So, this led to Scott freaking out and kissing some random ten-year-old girl, who ended up giving him mono.
"Yeah, yeah," Stiles assured him, sending a sly wink to Sierra. "I think it's called lycanthropy."
Sierra snorted, and her hand flew over her mouth to maintain her laughter.
"What's that?" Scott questioned with his eyes widened. "Is that bad?"
"Oh, yeah, it's the worst," Stiles nodded his head. "But only once a month."
"Once a month?"
"Mhm, on the night of the full moon." Stiles howled with his hands on his hips.
Scott finally caught on, rolled his eyes, and shoved Stiles back with his hand.
"Hey," Stiles protested through his chuckles. "You're the one who heard a wolf howling."
Scott gave Sierra an annoyed look. "Why do we hang out with him?"
"He gives me self-confidence," she shrugged in response.
"There could be something seriously wrong with me," Scott stated, not finding the humor in the situation as Stiles did.
"I know! You're a werewolf," Stiles teased and playfully growled like a dog.
"Obviously, he's kidding," Sierra intervened before he took it too far, but Stiles held up his hands in surrender.
"I'm just saying if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's 'cause Friday's a full moon," Stiles tried to defend himself. He only shut up when he saw Sierra give him a look with her arms crossed over her chest.
"How much farther, Scott?" Sierra asked, her feet starting to drag. The shaggy-haired boy stopped walking and looked around where they stood.
"I could have sworn this was it," he said and ran through his memory of last night. "I saw the body, and the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler." He crouched down onto one knee and searched through the leaves.
"Maybe the killer moved the body?" Sierra suggested and leaned against a tree next to Stiles.
"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler," Scott said and glanced up at his friends. "Those things are like eighty bucks."
"I like how you're more interested in your inhaler than the fact that the body's gone too," Stiles snorted.
Sierra rolled her eyes at the two before they landed on a man, who stood about twenty feet away in dark leather with a stern face. She slapped Stiles' shoulder and caused him to look at her before he followed her gaze. The stranger stared at them with a slight scowl as Stiles hit Scotts and began walking towards them.
"What're you doing here?" he questioned bluntly. The three stood there awkwardly without a response. "This is private property."
"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know," Stiles responded honestly and held out his arm to keep Sierra behind him. The man shifted his eyes from the boys to Sierra, who moved closer to Stiles. She didn't like that they didn't hear or see him coming. He just appeared. Even as Scott talked next, he didn't remove his gaze as he tilted his head, like he was trying to place her somewhere. Like he knew her.
"Uh, forget it," Scott gave up when he noticed the guy didn't care.
The guy suddenly threw something from his pocket, and Scott caught it swiftly. His fingers uncurled from the object, his inhaler.
Then, the stranger turned on his heel and walked away.
"Do we know him?" Sierra questioned nervously. "He's creepy."
"Come on, I gotta get to work," Scott started to say, but Stiles stopped him.
"Dude, that was Derek Hale," he informed them. "Remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us."
"Remember what?" Sierra looked at her best friend with confusion.
"His family," Stiles said and eyeballed the direction Derek disappeared. "They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago."
"I wonder what he's doing back," Scott replied curiously, and Stiles stared at the girl next to him.
"I don't like how he was looking at you, Si," he told her.
She smiled up at him and playfully flicked his shoulder. "Don't worry, Sti. I'm fine; plus, it's not like we'll ever see him again."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards Scott, who had already begun walking back to the jeep.
"Come on."
*^*^*^*
The following day, Scott rushed to talk to Sierra and Stiles after having a "vivid dream" that made him wake up in the woods. However, by the time Scott finally got to school, Stiles had already left Sierra's side to go to his class across the building. So, Scott settled for spilling his secret to Sierra while she retrieved books from her locker.
She scrunched her nose at the end of the story. "I'm sorry, Scott, but I'm confused," she admitted. "Why are you happy about waking up in the preserve?"
The boy practically bounced like a basketball in front of her and wore an eager grin. "Because," Scott dragged out the word. "I'm taking Allison to Lydia's party. I asked her before I found you."
Sierra smiled, but Scott noticed it didn't light up her face as much as it usually did. "I'm happy for you," she told him and closed her locker door. The hallways thinned out around them, students bustling toward their second classes of the day. "Truly, I am. But I thought you'd be more concerned about your nightmare—"
"Alright, little man," a familiar voice interrupted the best friends.
Sierra turned to see the infamous Jackson Whittemore glaring daggers at Scott.
"How about you tell me where you're getting your juice?"
"Jackson," Sierra snapped. "It is too early for your bullshit. Go away."
"Shut up, Sierra," he retorted and refocused back on Scott, who looked confused and slightly scared at the lacrosse captain. "So, where are you getting your juice?"
"My mom does all the grocery shopping," Scott answered, not following his question.
"Now listen, McCall," Jackson started and glared at Sierra before she could say anything. "You're gonna tell me exactly what it is and who you're buying it from because there is no way in hell you're out there kicking ass on the field like that without some sort of chemical boost."
Reality finally snapped into Scott. "Oh, you mean steroids."
Sierra slapped her palm against her forehead.
Scott blinked at Jackson, a thought dawning on him. "Are you on steroids?"
Jackson answered by shoving Scott back, Sierra and Scott both wincing as his back collided into the lockers. "What the hell is going on with you, McCall?" he demanded.
"What's going on with me?" Scott repeated, his frustration building up.
Sierra looked ready to either fight Jackson herself or yank Scott out of there before he said anything else stupid.
"You really wanna know?" Scott snapped. "Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn't be able to see, hear, or smell. I do things that should be impossible. I'm sleepwalking three miles into the middle of the woods, and I'm pretty much convinced that I'm totally out of my freaking mind!"
Scott sighed, glad to get that off his chest as he leaned his head against his locker.
However, Jackson stood his ground. "You think you're funny, don't you, McCall?" he inquired. His head shook from side to side as he let Scott out of his grip. "I know you're hiding something," he declared. "I'm going to find out what it is. I don't care how long it takes."
"Jackass, if he were on drugs, he wouldn't have thought steroids were orange juice," Sierra rolled her eyes at the lacrosse captain. "So get lost before I get Lydia."
"Lydia doesn't control me," Jackson seethed.
Sierra acted innocent, shrugging her shoulders. "Never said she did," she replied. "But what if she found out about—"
Jackson cut her off, his voice as cold as stone. "Don't."
As he stalked off, Scott looked at Sierra, curious about what secret she was going to reveal. But Sierra only patted Scott's shoulder and nudged him forward.
"Come on, Scotty. Time for class."
*^*^*^*^*^*
The rest of school flew by, and soon, Sierra and Scott walked to the lacrosse field for the second day of tryouts. He wouldn't stop pestering her about Jackson's secret, but the girl remained tight-lipped. It wasn't her secret to tell.
"But you said it had something to do with Lydia," Scott reminded Sierra. "She's your friend. If this secret would hurt her, why would you keep it a secret?"
"Because this secret wouldn't hurt Lydia," Sierra informed him. "If it did, I would've told her a long time ago. I honestly found out by accident. Deep down, I think Lydia already knows, too."
Scott scrunched his nose, beyond puzzled at his best friend's words. But the sound of Stiles calling their names ended the conversation before he had a chance to reply.
"Sierra! Scott, wait up!"
Sierra brightened when she saw Stiles approaching them, already wearing his lacrosse gear, and paused so he could catch up. "There you are," she smiled. "Where have you been? We waited for you after the bell for like ten minutes."
"I was eavesdropping on my dad," Stiles rushed out, throwing his lacrosse bag at his feet, near the bench. He looked at Scott urgently. "I really, really need to talk to you."
"Stiles, I'm playing the first elimination," Scott answered with a shake of his head.
"Just hold on, okay?" Stiles grabbed Scott's shoulder. "The fiber analysis came back from the lab in L.A. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods!"
Scott shook his head again, backing away from Stiles and Sierra. "I don't care right now. I gotta go."
Stiles tried to grab him before he got onto the field and called, "Wait, no, Scott! You're not gonna believe what the animal was."
Sierra touched his shoulder. "Stiles, what was the animal?" she asked, wondering why he was acting beyond his normal amount of anxiety.
He sighed and met her curious eyes. "It was a wolf."
Sierra thought she misheard him. "Are you serious?"
"Stilinski!"
Stiles rolled his eyes at Coach screaming his name.
"I have to go," he said and grabbed his lacrosse stick. "Promise we'll talk later?"
She nodded her head, "Definitely."
Stiles grinned and tilted his chin upward without saying anything else.
Sierra chuckled but lifted herself to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
"I'm feeling the luck already," he joked and jogged off to join Scott and the other boys in a huddle with Coach Finstock before she could reply.
Sierra bit her lip at his retreating figure before going to find a place to sit in the bleachers.
"Sierra!" Allison waved her arm to catch the girl's attention from her spot.
Sierra didn't hesitate to join her.
"How long do tryouts usually last?" Allison asked after Sierra settled in her seat and placed her bookbag at her feet.
"About an hour or so," Sierra shrugged. "It usually depends on Coach."
The two glanced at the older man who tried to get the teenagers hyped, saying something about cream cheese. "He seems like he's in a good mood, though."
The huddle broke apart. Soon a mini lacrosse game was underway as Finstock examined the field to determine who should make the final cut.
Scott caught the ball and began moving his feet, only to fall onto the grass due to Jackson pushing him over.
Allison winced. "That had to hurt."
"I'm sure he's fine," Sierra assured her, even though she had cringed herself. "He's warming up, you know? Loosening his legs, or whatever."
They focused back in on Scott, who faced off against Jackson again but got the ball and started to run. He did a spin move around Greenburg and quickly inched towards the goal before doing a complete front flip over three players.
It left everyone on the field, the bleachers, and the bench speechless.
Yet, Scott didn't stop. He launched the ball through the air and smiled when it landed in the goal. Applause erupted from the students in the stands; Stiles even clapped from the sidelines.
"McCall! Get over here!" Coach Finstock yelled. Once the boy reached him, he spoke his thoughts. "What in God's name was that? This is a lacrosse field. What're you doing? Trying out for the gymnastics team?"
"No, Coach."
"What the hell was that?" he repeated, not believing it happened.
"I don't know, Coach," Scott replied. "I was just trying to make the shot."
"Yeah, well, you made the shot," Finstock acknowledged. "And guess what? You're starting, buddy." He hit Scott in the shoulder. His grin widened as Scott looked back at him in shock and grabbed his shoulders. "You made first-line."
Scott couldn't help but smile, and his brown eyes crinkled up in happiness as he looked up at Allison and Sierra.
However, Stiles nervously fidgeted from his seat and ran his fingers over his lips.
If Scott was what Stiles thought, this wasn't good news.
^*^*^*^
Later that night, Sierra kept her promise to Stiles. Jemma let her go to the Stilinski home when Sierra told her the boy needed help with research. It wasn't a total lie, but Sierra knew in her gut that the research had nothing to do with school and everything to do with Scott.
Stiles just didn't think Scott's abilities were possible. They had practiced together. Scott could never block that many shots before, and he could never flip over players. Plus, there was the strange bite Scott got a few days ago, and the body in the woods covered in wolf hair. What Stiles suggested as a joke now became a serious idea.
"A werewolf?" Sierra remained unsure, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him pace across his bedroom carpet. "You think Scott is a werewolf?"
Stiles ran a hand over his buzzed head. "Yeah," he eventually said and faced her with his hands on his hips. "I really do."
The doubt in Sierra's eyes didn't go unnoticed by Stiles. He held up a finger before she could say a word. "Just wait, okay?" he grabbed his laptop. "I'll prove it to you."
He sat beside her, the girl looking over his shoulder as he opened the internet browser and typed in the search bar.
Lycanthropy.
"Something's wrong, string bean," Stiles expressed, scrolling through the results. "There's no way he got that good that quick."
"Stiles," she placed her hand on his, and he turned to her. "Are you sure this is about Scott?"
He cinched his eyebrows. "Why would this be about anyone else?"
"Because I know you," she answered. "You can always talk to me, okay? I know lacrosse didn't work out that well last year, but this year is going to be different—"
"Sierra," he cut her off. "I told you I'm fine. I'm serious about this Scott thing, alright? Scott has never been able to flip or do any kinds of tricks before, okay? Never."
Sierra held his eye. She liked to believe she was always good at reading people, especially her best friends. It was strange to see Stiles so serious.
"Believe me," he whispered. "Please."
Sierra sighed, finally breaking the gaze to look down at their hands. She quickly removed hers from his and fiddled with her fingers in her lap. "Okay," she decided, Stiles instantly lighting up. "I believe you. But, if you're going to try and convince Scott, you're going to need more than just the internet."
The next morning, the room was filled with papers. The two teens had fallen asleep from the late night reading and printing important articles. Sierra sat at the desk with sheets all around her, slouched over the laptop's keyboard.
Stiles lay sprawled in a star formation on the floor. He woke up first and groaned at the sunlight shining through his window. Stretching his arms over his head, he released a yawn and scanned the room until he saw Sierra.
A small smile made its way onto his lips from seeing her resting her head on her forearm. Strands of hair blocked her face, but he softly brushed them away and shook her shoulder.
Almost at once, her eyes snapped open, and she sat up. "I'm up; how long was I out?" she asked.
"It's morning, string bean," Stiles informed her with a smile. "We both fell asleep."
Sierra stood up from the chair and winced at the soreness shooting up her spine. "That explains the back."
"Want some breakfast?" he asked.
A rumbling noise bubbled from Sierra's stomach and answered the question for both of them.
"Definitely," she laughed.
Stiles thrust his fist in the air. "Then to the kitchen for my signature pancakes, we go!" he announced before he took off running out of his room.
Sierra chased after him with giggles. "Those burnt things are anything but signature!"
After eating, they continued researching anything they thought was helpful. Silver bullets, old drawings from history, books... it all led to the same thing.
Later that afternoon, a knock sounded at Stiles' bedroom door, and Sierra stood up from her position on the bed. Stiles was at the computer, his fingers clicking away at the keys.
The girl rubbed her eyes tiredly and opened the door to reveal a beaming Scott. "Get in here."
Scott made a face but listened to her, stepping into the room. "Did you sleep here?" he asked, glancing between her and Stiles, who shot him a warning glare to not make another comment.
"Yeah," Sierra said, not catching the exchange. "But I'm still tired."
"You gotta see this thing. We've been up all night reading websites, books— all this information," Stiles shared and motioned him to look at his laptop.
"How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott chuckled and watched as Stiles shuffled papers around.
"A lot," Sierra stated. "He's been freaking out."
Stiles ignored them. "Just listen," he told Scott.
"Is this about the body?" Scott asked. "Did they find out who did it?"
"No, they're still questioning people," Stiles told him and glanced at the girl who was back to laying on his bed with her eyes shut. "Even Derek Hale."
"The creepy guy in the woods, " Sierra sleepily chimed in, and Stiles nodded.
"Yes, but that's not it, okay?"
Scott looked at him, confused. "What then?"
Sierra sighed and sat upright again, needing to help Stiles explain. "Remember his joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore."
"The wolf, the bite in the woods... I started to do all this reading," Stiles took over.
Sierra commented, "And dragged me into it."
Stiles bit back a smile but looked back at Scott, whose face still held confusion as he sat beside Sierra on the end of Stiles's bed.
Stiles stood up from the desk chair. "Do you even know why a wolf howls?"
Scott cinched his eyebrows, "Should I?"
"It's a signal, okay? When a wolf's alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack," the boy explained. "So if you hear a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em."
Scott asked seriously, "A whole pack of wolves?"
"Not exactly," Sierra squinted. When Scott shot her a questioning look, Sierra joined Stiles and faced their friend. "More like werewolves."
Scott stared up at the two of them before standing abruptly. "Are you seriously wasting my time with this?" he questioned. "You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour."
He went to grab his bag, but Stiles placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"Do you really think we would be standing here if we weren't telling you the truth?" Sierra retaliated with her hands on her hips. "I'll admit it sounds far-fetched, but I saw you on the field, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn't just amazing, all right? It was impossible."
Scott shrugged it off, "Yeah, so I made a good shot."
Sierra shook her head and moved so he couldn't get around her and leave.
"No, Scott, you made an incredible shot," Sierra emphasized, Stiles agreeing with her every word. "I know you've been practicing, but the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes..."
"People can't just suddenly do that overnight," Stiles stated before remembering other things. "And there's the vision and the senses-"
"Don't even think we didn't notice you aren't using your inhaler anymore," Sierra pointed out.
"Okay!" Scott raised his voice. "I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?!" Stiles repeated loudly and blinked. "What? No! The full moon is tonight. Don't you get it?"
"What're you trying to do?" Scott grew agitated while Stiles sighed and sat down in his desk chair. "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?"
His eyes moved over to Sierra. "And why are you encouraging him?" he demanded.
"We're trying to help," Sierra snapped back, matching his volume. She hated when the boys disagreed and tried to make her pick sides. It didn't happen often, but when it did, Sierra never hesitated to end it quickly.
Stiles sighed and looked up at his best friend, "You're cursed, Scott." Scott stayed silent as he continued. "It's not just the moon that will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."
"Bloodlust," Scott reiterated and stared at them, completely done with the topic at hand.
"Yeah, your urge to kill," Sierra filled in the blank. Her blue eyes widened from the glare Scott directed her way.
"I'm already starting to feel an urge to kill, Sierra," he affirmed bitterly.
Stiles grabbed a red book from his desk and flipped it open to a random page. "The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse," he read before spinning around and glancing up at Scott. "Alright? I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does."
"You gotta cancel this date," Sierra told Scott and walked over to the boy's backpack to grab his phone. "I'm calling her right now."
"What're you doing?" Scott groaned.
"I'm canceling your date," she said again and went to walk around him with the phone in her hand. "Trust me, Allison will understand. She's super sweet—"
"No!" Scott cut her off and leaped forward before she could say anything else. Before she knew it, he shoved her against the wall and raised his fist. "Give it to me!"
Stiles sprung up. "Scott!" he demanded, his voice firm enough to make the boy blink and realize what he was doing. "Let her go, now."
Sierra stared at Scott in disbelief, afraid to even breathe from the way her best friend suddenly acted toward her.
Scott's fist shook, and Sierra winced, thinking he was going to swing. Instead, he slashed against a chair and watched it topple over as his chest rapidly rose and fell.
No one said anything for a moment; no one even moved until Stiles saw tears gathering in Sierra's eyes. He joined her side and grabbed her hand, keeping an eye on Scott as he created distance between them.
Scott's face fell, his heart panging with guilt. "I'm sorry," he apologized in a whisper, trying to look Sierra in the eye.
She stayed quiet and kept her focus on the ground.
Scott took a step back. "I, uh, gotta go get ready, for that party."
His best friends watched him grab his backpack from the bed and head towards the door. Scott paused and glanced back to see that neither of them had moved. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice cracking.
Then, Scott opened the wooden door and closed it behind him, leaving Sierra and Stiles alone.
Stiles leaned back against the wall in frustration and shut his eyes before remembering the girl next to him. It was like she was a statue, the only thing guaranteeing she wasn't being the rapid beating of her heart. "Si?"
Sierra blinked and made eye contact with him. "Hmm?"
"You haven't moved," he said slowly and placed his hands on the sides of her face. "Are you okay?"
She stared back with little emotion but nodded.
Stiles knew better than to believe her. He brought her face closer to his, pressed his lips on her forehead, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. A sigh escaped Sierra's mouth as she rested her head against his chest, and he placed his own on top of hers.
After a moment, Stiles leaned back and flitted his whiskey brown eyes down at her. "We should probably straighten up this room, you know? Considering we have papers everywhere from printing."
Sierra raised an eyebrow. "We?" she echoed and shook her head. "Oh no, you are the one you wanted to print everything out. I merely suggested highlighting and saving the websites in your favorites."
However, she kneeled beside him and gathered some papers in her hand.
Stiles rolled his eyes with a grin before his gaze landed on the chair that Scott had knocked over. Goosebumps rose on his arms and the back of his neck as he froze.
"Stiles, this website you printed off has nothing to do with werewolves," Sierra stated, not seeing his reaction. She waited for his sarcasm but didn't hear anything. "Stiles?"
Her eyes followed his line of sight and understood what silenced him.
Three scratches slashed through the back of the chair, cutting through the material.
However, they weren't from any human. They were from a werewolf. They were from Scott.