"WE NEED TO GO TO THAT PARTY."
The Stilinski boy paced around his room while Sierra watched him with her chin resting against her palms. She bit her lip as he ran through scenarios of what could go wrong, raising his anxiety, which worsened her nerves.
"Stiles?"
"He could kill somebody," he mumbled angrily, his feet shuffling along the carpet. "He won't let us help; I just don't understand why."
"I don't think he wants to believe it," Sierra said.
Stiles finally turned around and looked at her. "What?"
"Stiles, he had a point," Sierra stated. "He made first line, and Allison is a pretty cool girl who agreed to go out with him. He doesn't want anything to ruin it, and let's be real, our theory isn't all that great."
Stiles stuttered, but she lifted her hand to let him know she wasn't done.
She asked, "How would you feel if your life turned upside down because you discovered you got bit by a werewolf?"
He sighed, defeated because he knew his best friend was right. "All I want to do is help."
Sierra thought for a second before standing up to put on her sandals. "Then we'll help."
"Huh?"
"We're going to the party," Sierra stated, making the boy grin. "Get dressed and meet me in five minutes."
*^*^*^*^*^*
"Sierra, hurry up!"
Sierra grumbled and slipped her jacket on to cover her bare shoulders. They were going to a party, and even though it was to get Scott, she wanted to look the part. She opened her bedroom door and ran down the steps to meet Stiles, who impatiently waited in the living room. "How do I look?"
Stiles glanced up from his phone and widened his eyes as she did a cute twirl in her gray dress. "W-wow," he grinned. "You look stunning."
"Well, thank you," Sierra smiled, brushing by him to grab her cell lying on the coffee table. She winced when she saw five missed calls from Allison; they had exchanged numbers during lacrosse tryouts, and Sierra went to her house to help her unpack before talking to Stiles. And even though they didn't know each other super well, five calls usually meant an emergency.
Stiles, dressed in a red button-down shirt and a jacket, watched Sierra from the door. His arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.
"I'm sorry I didn't answer," Sierra apologized to her new friend, who answered on the first ring and twirled a piece of hair between her fingers. "What did you need?"
"Oh, it's fine," Allison brushed it off. "I just need help deciding what to wear on my date with Scott. He's coming in five minutes, and I still don't know what to do."
Sierra's blue eyes landed on Stiles and glared at him when she saw him tapping his foot and motioning towards his Jeep outside. He sighed when she shook her head and refocused on Allison.
"Well, how are you wearing your hair?"
"Down, and it's kind of wavy," the new girl answered and looked around her room, now littered with clothes previously hung in her closet. Allison groaned and rubbed her temple; she was too nervous for this evening, and being stressed about clothes did not help.
"When I was helping you unpack, you showed me this cute navy cardigan," Sierra replied, piecing an outfit together in her mind. "Wear that with a button-down white shirt and jeans and whatever shoes you are comfortable dancing in."
"Thank you, Sierra Page," Allison laughed and quickly began to change. "I'll call you with the details later!"
The girls hung up, and Stiles released a cry of relief. "About damn time!"
"Shut up."
"You know you never complimented my appearance," he remarked as he held the front door open for her. "Am I not attractive?"
Sierra snorted but verbally ignored his question. "Jemma took an extra shift at the office, so I left a note when she gets home, and I'm not there. I told her I was spending the night at your house again to work on a project."
"But we don't have a project together?"
"Exactly."
Stiles glanced at her in confusion as he locked her front door with a copy of the key he had made. "This way, if something goes wrong with Scott, I won't have to get in trouble for sneaking in late."
Stiles nodded, and they walked to the Jeep together. Once they began driving to the party, Stiles spoke again. "You never answered my question."
Sierra played dumb. "What question?"
He rolled his brown eyes. "You know what question."
Sierra kept her face blank and stared straight ahead, knowing he was doing this for his ego.
Stiles used one hand to poke her left side and the other to steady the steering wheel.
She squirmed and slapped his hand away.
"Awe come on, string bean," Stiles let out a small laugh. "I have like zero self-confidence. I could use the boost." He went to tickle her again, but she held up her fist.
"Try again, Stilinski," she threatened. "I dare you."
Stiles held up his hand in mock surrender before quickly brushing his fingers along her side, making her giggle. He smiled at the sound but dropped his jaw when she flicked him in the head. "Hey!"
Sierra snickered at his protest and responded with a shrug. "I warned you."
"All I wanted was a compliment," he pouted playfully like a child.
Sierra sighed. "Fine." She faced him and spoke in a monotone, "Stiles, you look really handsome tonight. Did you do something with your hair?"
The teenage driver rolled his eyes once more and responded with his own sarcasm. "Gee whiz, Sierra! I feel loved and appreciated."
"Good."
^*^*^*^*^*^*
Sierra's head hurt.
That's all Sierra could think. Lydia's parties were always a big hit for their school; the strawberry-blonde was known for them. However, the music thumped out of the speakers so loud that Sierra was shocked they didn't explode. Red cups cluttered the floor and danced as teenagers grasped them tightly in their hands. Grinding was also so prevalent, so the uncomfortable girl stayed inside with Stiles.
Stiles was always more outgoing than she was, though she had many friends. He often dragged her to these things, claiming, "The world needs to know you like I do. You're too special."
Stiles glanced down at her in the middle of their classmate sharing a random water buffalo story. She looked stiff, her fingers tightly gripping a half-open water bottle. So, casually brushing his arm against hers, Stiles grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it.
Sierra smiled at him gratefully, to which he returned.
Suddenly, Scott stumbled in their direction, his eyes out of focus and his breathing rapid as he fought the power he felt from the full moon.
"Woah, Scott, you good?" Stiles reached out for him.
Scott didn't answer.
"Are you okay?" Sierra asked next.
Still, Scott didn't say anything and kept walking toward the front door.
Allison wandered into the same room a minute later, wondering where Scott had gone. They were dancing, but he had excused himself without warning. Sierra offered to help her find him.
Stiles refused to let go of Sierra's hand too quickly. "Sierra," he began, but when he noticed Allison listening to them, he sighed. "Just...be careful, okay?"
She squeezed his hand this time, assuring him that she would be fine. "I always am."
Before she could leave, he lifted his hand and stuck out his pinky. "Promise?"
Sierra chuckled but interlocked their pinkies together. "I promise." She then turned to Allison, who waited patiently with a knowing grin. "Let's go find Scott."
The two girls twisted their arms together as they pushed through half-drunk teenagers. Luckily, they made it outside and found Scott, who looked like he was in the middle of an asthma attack.
Scott fumbled with his keys as he tried to concentrate on leaving before he finally unlocked the vehicle. Within seconds, he sped off — leaving a gaping Sierra and a disappointed Allison in the dust.
Sierra placed her hand on Allison's arm for comfort. She knew what was going on, but Allison didn't.
"I'm sure he has a good reason," Sierra suggested, and Allison furrowed her eyebrows with a nod, trying to convince herself. "We should probably head back inside and get Stiles. We can take you home."
"Allison?"
Both girls rotated their heads to see who called her name.
He stood before them in a black jacket Sierra recognized that covered a white T-shirt. It was the guy from the woods, Derek Hale. Sierra's presence didn't seem to faze him as it had before. He glanced at her for only a moment before he smiled at Allison.
"I'm a friend of Scott's," Derek told her. "My name's Derek. He asked me to take you home."
Wary of the stranger, Allison glanced at Sierra. "Do you know him?" she whispered.
"She does," Derek answered instead. His head tilted as he looked at Sierra. "We go way back, don't we?"
Sierra opened her mouth to argue. But once she thought back to seeing him in the woods, she couldn't find the words to disagree with him. There was something familiar about Derek Hale. And for that reason, she didn't worry about Allison riding home with him.
"Just text me updates," Sierra said, finally tearing her eyes away from Derek to meet Allison's gaze. "Okay?"
"Will do," Allison agreed and offered her new friend a small wave before she followed Derek to his car.
"I'll see you later!"
*^*^*^*
Stiles found Sierra a few moments later, still standing outside.
Through his concerned prompting, she managed to find the words to tell him what happened with Derek. He didn't believe her.
Instead, Stiles dragged her back to the Jeep and sped on the road toward Scott's house. "I can't believe you let her go with him," Stiles muttered.
"I told you everything happened too fast," Sierra argued. "And Allison is okay, alright? She's been texting me updates since she left."
"It doesn't matter," Stiles refused to accept her answer. "Scott is potentially turning into a raging monster and the one guy who randomly appeared in the woods where something bit Scott shows up at a high-school party where Scott is. You promised me you'd be careful! You seriously didn't think of any of this before letting Derek take Allison home?"
Sierra fell silent in the passenger seat, more so because Stiles was right. Derek waved every red flag right in front of her, and she didn't do anything to stop him.
Across town, Scott stared at his reflection in his bathroom— the door securely locked—and watched in horror as two sharp fangs sprouted from his teeth. His natural brown eyes flashed gold as he winced from the rage building in his core.
Within moments of pulling into the McCall driveway, Stiles barged into the house and flew up the stairs. Stiles banged on Scott's bedroom door, having found the bathroom empty.
Scott closed his eyes and placed his hands on the sides of the sink. "Go away!" he barked.
"Scott, it's me," Stiles informed him, Sierra having chosen to stay in the Jeep outside, too lost in her anxious thoughts. He tried to open the door. "Let me in, Scott. I can help."
"No," Scott disagreed. Droplets of water rolled down his face. "Listen, you gotta find Allison."
"She's fine," Stiles answered, avoiding the truth of the matter so that he could get into the room. "Sierra and I saw her get a ride from the party. She's totally fine."
Scott's breathing didn't calm down. He staggered through his words. "No, I think— I think I know who it is."
"Just let me in," Stiles tried to fight, but Scott interrupted him again.
"It's Derek," Scott interrupted him once more, fighting to keep his eyes brown as Stiles widened his. "Derek Hale is the werewolf. He's the one who bit me. He's the one that killed the girl in the woods."
"Scott," Stiles hesitated. "Derek is the one that drove Allison from the party."
The door slammed shut, and Stiles banged on it again. "Scott?"
Sierra bounced her knee from inside the Jeep. What was taking Stiles so long? she wondered. Her eyes flickered across Scott's yard. Then, she saw him.
Scott's ears grew pointed. Drool fell from his shiny fangs, and his amber eyes gleamed in the darkness. He leaned back with his claws that had developed from his fingertips and roared like a lion before he took off running.
Sierra froze, wide-eyed.
Seconds later, Stiles threw open the driver's door and roughly shoved his key in the ignition. "What's going on?" she questioned shakily because, within seconds, the Jeep flew across Beacon Hills for the millionth time that night.
"Allison is in danger," he stated and glanced at her. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I, uh," Sierra gulped. "I just saw Scott, but I guess it wasn't truly him, but um, yeah. Why is Allison in danger?"
"Derek is the one who bit Scott," he sighed. "And we think he's the one who killed that girl. If he took Allison home..." he couldn't finish his sentence, but Sierra instantly understood the severity of the situation.
"Oh, god."
Stiles didn't even park the car and instead jumped out when they arrived at the Argent's home, Sierra on his heels. They raced up the steps, and Stiles rapidly pushed the doorbell.
Sierra slapped her palm against the door with a tense grumble. "Come on, come on, come on."
The door finally opened to reveal a confused middle-aged woman in a grey button-down with short reddish brown hair.
"Hey, Mrs. Argent," Sierra greeted, as they had met before when Sierra had helped Allison unpack the day prior. "You have no idea who my friend is, but he's a friend of your daughter's. Uh-look, this is going to sound crazy, um, really crazy. You know what? Crazy doesn't even describe—"
Victoria Argent interrupted them by calling for her only daughter. "Allison! It's for you."
The teenagers widened their eyes as the familiar girl appeared on the balcony inside with a puzzled expression. "Sierra? Stiles?"
"Hey, girl," Sierra chuckled and leaned against the doorframe.
"What're you doing here?" Allison asked.
"Oh, you know," Stiles waved his hand to brush her concern away as he caught his breath. "We uh, wanted to make sure you got home safely."
Allison raised an eyebrow as her mom excused herself, giving them privacy to talk.
Sierra glanced at Stiles and nodded her head a few times before speaking. "It's true!" she exclaimed. "I didn't get a text that you had gotten home, so I made Stiles drive me over because you're my friend, you know? We got to look out for each other."
Allison chuckled. "I'm thrilled you care, but obviously, I'm fine," she assured the duo, walking down the stairs. "Are you two okay? When I saw you, it looked like you saw a ghost."
Ghost, no, Sierra thought. Werewolf? Yes.
"We're fine," Stiles answered when Sierra didn't. "We didn't mean to interrupt your night either."
Allison waved her hand in dismissal. "You didn't interrupt anything! I was thinking of making an ice cream sundae with some things in the fridge." She glanced between them with a smile. "Want one?"
Stiles beat Sierra in answering once again, worn out from running all across town. In his mind, he could afford to take a short break before he and Sierra spent the rest of the night looking for Scott.
"Depends. Do you have Oreo?"
*^*^*^*
The next morning, Sierra and Stiles continued their search to find Scott. They had searched around the high school, all three of their neighborhoods, the park, and sections of the woods.
Sierra was ready to give up, slumped against the window as her eyes scanned the trees. Stiles's jacket draped over her dress, leaving him with his shirt rolled to his elbows. Then, Sierra finally spotted her best friend walking alongside the road— barefoot and shirtless.
"I see him!"
Scott looked surprised to see his best friends when they appeared. His right forearm throbbed from where he got struck by an arrow the night before.
Sierra moved to the backseat and passed Stiles's jacket to Scott so that he could cover himself. Seeing his weary eyes told her he had a rough night, too.
He shared how he found Derek, but unfortunately, it also led to an encounter with werewolf hunters. Scott didn't even know there was such a thing. When he finished his story, it was silent for a moment.
"You know what worries me the most?" Scott asked the two.
Sierra, feeling irritated about Derek and the people hunting the person she considered a brother, snapped, "If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head."
Stiles held back a chuckle as he peeked his focus on her through the rearview mirror.
Scott groaned. "She probably hates me now."
Sierra rolled her eyes, "Somehow, I freaking doubt that."
"But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology," Stiles added.
"Or, you know, you could tell her the truth," Sierra suggested, and Stiles grinned widely.
"Revel in the fact that you're a frickin' werewolf!" Scott and Sierra stared at him, and he made a face. "Okay, bad idea."
Scott shook his head, and Sierra rolled her blue eyes. Stiles slapped Scott's arm, "Hey, we'll get through this. Come on. If I have to, I'll chain you up on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it."
Sierra scoffed and leaned forward, "Don't talk lies. We know what happened to that snake, Stiles."
"It wasn't a big deal," Stiles defended, and the girl dropped her jaw.
"It wound itself around my ankles while I was sleeping!" Sierra argued and shuddered at the memory.
"But I got rid of it," he pointed out as Scott laughed at their banter.
"Because I told you to," she reminded him. "If you didn't, I swore I would never talk to you again."
"And we can't have that," Scott commented jokingly, but Stiles nodded in agreement.
"It's true. What would I do without your sarcastic smile and annoying movie commentary?"
"Probably die."
"Totally."
*^*^*^*
"So what happened? You left me stranded at the party," Allison, with her white bag slung over her shoulder, pronounced as she waltzed by Scott after school.
Scott quickly scrambled up from where he was sitting to follow her.
"I know," Scott told her. "I'm really sorry, I am. But you're going to have to trust that I had a really good reason."
"Did you get sick?" Allison tried to find an explanation.
"I definitely had an attack of something," he responded vaguely.
Allison stopped walking and looked at him. "Am I gonna get an explanation?"
"Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?" He asked instead.
"Am I going to regret this?"
"Probably." Allison slightly laughed, which made him smile. "So, is that a yes on a second chance?"
"Definitely yes," she stated. A red car honked its horn and made the two teens look in its direction while an older gentleman climbed out of the driver's seat. "That's my dad. I better go."
Scott nodded in understanding and watched as she walked away before he made eye contact with her father.
His pupils dilated when he realized who he was.
He was the one who shot him.
Allison's father was a hunter.
*^*^*^*
"Did you apologize to Allison?" Stiles questioned before lacrosse practice while they were in the locker room.
"Yeah," Scott responded like he was in a daze. He leaned back against his gym locker.
"So is she giving you a second chance or?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" Stiles grinned. "Yeah, so everything's good!" He went to walk away but stopped when Scott responded with a no. "No?"
"Remember, the hunters- her dad is one of them." Scott stared straight ahead, not believing the truth as Stiles absorbed the new information.
"Her dad?"
"Shot me," Scott answered.
"Allison's father?"
"...with a crossbow."
Stiles tapped his finger before repeating himself. "Allison's fa-"
"Yes, her father!" Scott shouted in interruption before his eyes enlarged. "Oh my god-"
Stiles rushed over to him as his best friend began to freak out and hit him in the cheek. "No, Scott. Snap back. Are you okay? Hey, you all right? He didn't recognize you, right?"
"No. N-no, I don't think so," he answered shakily.
"Does she know about him?"
"Oh, I-I don't know." His anxiety rose as he thought of what could happen while Stiles tried to calm him down. He squeezed his eyes shut, and he whimpered, "This is gonna kill me, man."
"Just focus on lacrosse," Stiles instructed and handed the new werewolf his jersey and gear. "Take this and focus on lacrosse for now, okay?"
"Lacrosse."
Stiles hit his shoulder a couple of times. "There we go."
On the bleachers, Sierra read her book quietly as her friends went through their practice. Usually, she would go home, but for some reason, Stiles wanted her to stay. She raised her head when she heard Coach call Scott's last name. "Hey, McCall?"
She scrunched her nose when she saw him on his back and grabbed Stiles' attention. When he saw her questioning look, he shook his head as if to say he would explain later. Jackson walked away from Scott with a smirk as Coach approached, letting Sierra realize he was the one who most likely hit him. She exhaled with annoyance, unable to stand the cocky lacrosse captain.
She watched nervously as Scott got in front of the line again, his face blank before he clenched his jaw. He sprinted toward the arrogant boy.
Jackson couldn't do anything to stop him as Scott shoved him towards the ground.
Both fell, and everyone except Stiles crowded around Jackson to ensure he didn't break anything. "Scott?" Stiles asked as his friend breathed heavily.
"I can't control it, Stiles. It's happening."
"What? Right here? Now?"
Stiles forced Scott up, taking off towards the locker room. Sierra quickly shoved her book in her backpack and rushed after her best friends, needing to know that they were both okay.
"Get away from me!" Scott yelled once they made it inside, his eyes swirling gold.
Stiles fell back in surprise. He scrambled away behind a row of lockers, but Scott jumped on top of them and roared once more, his fangs sticking out.
"Stiles?" Sierra called his name as she ran into the room.
"Sierra, look out!"
A growl erupted from the werewolf's throat, and Sierra widened her eyes as he jumped up again onto the structural beams. He caught sight of her and instantly forgot about Stiles. "Sierra!" Stiles shouted.
Stiles quickly and clumsily made his way to her as she was frozen in terror while Scott leared closer. He snarled and prepared to pounce, but Stiles reached behind his girl's head and grabbed the fire extinguisher.
Scott leaped towards them, and Stiles closed his eyes as the white carbon dioxide filled the room, stopping him.
Scott kept his head down and swiped at the air, trying to get it away, and fell onto the bench.
Sierra and Stiles collapsed outside the room and tried to catch their breath against the wall.
Scott took his helmet off, "Stiles?"
The two peeked around the corner, and Stiles held on to the extinguisher just in case.
Scott squinted his eyes from exhaustion and looked at them in curiosity. "What happened?"
Sierra sighed as Stiles ripped off his gloves, annoyed. "You tried to kill us." Stiles walked over and sat next to him while Sierra cautiously stood behind the boy with the buzz-cut. "It's like I told you before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."
"But that's lacrosse," Scott tried to reason. "It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed."
Sierra chimed in, "It's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday."
"You're going to have to get out of the game," Stiles agreed.
"I'm first line."
"Not anymore."