A BELL RANG WHEN SIERRA OPENED THE GLASS DOOR OF THE VIDEO STORE.
She had only been inside a few times before, usually for the same circumstances as why she glanced around the store today. Stiles had a decent DVD collection, but nothing sounded good, especially Batman.
No one was in her line of eyesight, but she didn't see it as unusual. Rarely anyone ever came in, and the store only had about three employees.
Movies, old and new, lined the shelves as she ran her fingers over them to find a film of interest. Nothing jumped out, so she moved farther from the entrance, towards the action section.
A phone rang from somewhere and caused her to glance up.
"Jackson?"
The blonde lacrosse captain turned away from the movies he was searching through and spotted his classmate.
"Hey, Sierra," he greeted awkwardly.
The two teenagers weren't friends— they only talked when Lydia was around. Not to mention he didn't particularly enjoy Scott McCall's presence, while Sierra did.
However, they tolerated one another for Lydia's sake.
"Do you know where I can find the Notebook?" he asked her.
"I'm guessing your plan to watch a sports movie with Lydia didn't sit well," Sierra joked. She raised her hand and pointed to the opposite end of the store. "The romance movies are over there. That'll be your best bet."
His blue eyes followed where she pointed and noticed a light above a ladder continuously flickering.
"Sierra?" Jackson grabbed her attention once more. "Have you seen a worker since you've been here?"
Sierra tilted her head before she shook it. "Actually, no, I haven't." She raised her voice to be heard over the phone, which continued to ring. "But I wish someone would come out and answer that stupid phone!"
"Is anybody working here?" Jackson called out.
No one answered.
"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.
"Someone has to be here," Sierra stated with a frown. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to get in."
"Come on," Jackson decided. "Maybe there's a back room or something, and they just didn't hear us."
Sierra shrugged, not having a better idea, and fell into step with him as they walked down an aisle. Besides the flickering light, nothing seemed out of the ordinary to the teens.
That is until Sierra saw two shoes sticking out of one of the middle aisles.
She stopped walking. "Uh, Jackson?"
"What?"
The lacrosse captain followed her gaze, feeling a chill run down his spine when he saw the shoes. He swallowed hard but moved forward.
Sierra forced herself to do the same.
"Oh, god," Sierra gasped when they turned into the aisle.
A man, gaping wounds across his neck, had collapsed on the carpet. Blood covered his glasses and dirty blonde beard, and polo shirt. His eyes reminded Sierra of Laura Hale, unblinking and wide open.
Jackson stumbled back in surprise. Unlike Sierra, even though she was still horrified, he had never seen a dead body before. He crashed into the ladder behind them, accidentally knocking out the store's lights.
The store went dark.
Sierra whimpered and wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the fear from swirling in her head.
Jackson felt his heart rate spike.
But then things got worse.
A low growl filled the air.
Sierra and Jackson dared to turn around, now attached at the hip.
Two red eyes pierced through the darkness. Long black hairs formed the creature's face.
Jackson yanked Sierra into the closest aisle, wanting to distance them and the monster as much as possible. They pressed their backs against the movie case and held their breath to listen. Unlike what he initially thought about the previous attacks, Jackson knew now that it definitely wasn't a mountain lion.
Sierra covered her hand with her mouth while the boy cautiously peeked out behind their hideout. Darkness was all he saw until the creature dashed past a row with a snarl, which caused Jackson to hide again immediately.
Sierra was still latched on his arm but shook from head to toe. In her gut, she knew it was the alpha. The chances of surviving were slim. But she didn't want to die; not here, not now. She had dreams and life goals such as attending university, getting married, finding a job, etc. She didn't want her life to end yet.
Suddenly, movies tumbled over their heads, and the shelves began to rock. Loud crashes filled the deathly silent film store as the rows fell like dominoes towards them.
Sierra reacted and pushed Jackson out of the aisle. Yet, the shelf toppled over her. She cried out in pain.
Even though Sierra's quick actions saved him from more damage, the lacrosse captain still had his legs stuck. He tried to move out from underneath the shelf with no success.
Sierra squeezed her blue eyes, completely terrified, feeling more weight on her chest as the alpha climbed over the broken shelf. Her body trembled when it leaned down with a growl, only inches from her face. She refused to open her eyes.
"Sierra."
Her name dragged out, the rough whisper shocking Sierra to the core. She lost the ability to breathe. How did the alpha know her name?
Unaware of what happened to Sierra, Jackson tried to free his legs.
The alpha shifted its attention to him.
Jackson froze. The creature's shadow covered his hand, and he heard its heavy breaths.
It loomed over him and took its claw towards Jackson's neck, puncturing the skin.
Then, as quickly as it came, the monster disappeared with a screech. Glass shattered as it leaped through the front window, and Lydia, who had been waiting for Jackson in his car, screamed from the top of her lungs in fright.
However, the creature didn't care and dashed off into the night.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Across town, and unaware of the trauma his best friend endured, Stiles sat with his dad in his police cruiser. It was always one of his favorite times to hang out with his father since sometimes calls would come in through the police scanner, and Stiles would get to tag along.
Nothing too interesting had happened yet, just a few reports of misdemeanors. So, Stiles became impatient for their time to end. After all, he had a movie night with Scott and Sierra planned.
"Dad, we have to hurry," Stiles reminded for the hundredth time as he grabbed his burger from the bag. "Sierra's expecting me in like twenty minutes."
The sheriff rolled his eyes and bit into his burger. "You're not going to be late, Stiles," he told him. "Even if you were, it's not like she would hold it against you. Didn't you say she had to stop by the video place to get the movies?"
Stiles nodded his head unsurely. "Yeah, but I don't want her to think I'm ditching her or anything."
"Did they forget my curly fries?" The change of subject was necessary for Noah's mind. He knew Stiles would continue to babble about his best friend and wouldn't eat if he didn't.
"You're not supposed to eat fries," his son commented as he looked in the brown paper bag. "Especially the curly ones."
"Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon," his father reasoned sassily, his mouth slightly full. "If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries."
Stiles gave him a look after he took a sip from his paper cup filled with his favorite cherry cola.
"If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong," Stiles emphasized to show he could do the same thing.
Noah raised a brow while his son smirked proudly.
"Unit One, do you copy?"
Stiles immediately dropped his food in his lap and leaned forward towards the walkie attached to the radio. However, the sheriff quickly slapped his hand away and cleared his throat.
"Sorry," his son mumbled, not meaning it at all, and went back to stuffing his face with the fried potatoes.
"Unit One, copy," Noah replied to the dispatcher.
"We've got a report of a possible one eighty-seven," the man informed in a monotone.
Stiles' eyes widened as soon as the words reached his ears in disbelief.
"A murder?" he questioned, knowing the calls, a curly fry falling from his mouth.
The sheriff sighed deeply at his actions and turned on the siren to his vehicle, realizing their dinner break was over.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*
The video store had become an active crime scene. Bright red, white, and blue lights shone across the parking lot while yellow tape kept the local media from stepping onto the property.
Sierra sat in the back of an ambulance, her feet dangling, while she shivered into the grey blanket the paramedic had given her. Her arm ached as she held it out to be examined. She hadn't been questioned by the police yet and wondered what she would say if they asked.
The alpha tried to kill her and Jackson. It murdered an innocent worker.
The image of the man's slashed throat plagued her memory, but nothing stuck out more than the low growl of her name. How did it know her name?
Any possible answer terrified her, and she released a shaky breath as the kind EMT placed a brace around her left wrist.
"You're very lucky," she told Sierra. "I'm surprised your legs aren't broken after that shelf fell. You only have minor cuts and bruises, so I recommend some Neosporin to help them heal. Definitely keep the bandages on, at least for a couple of days."
"What about my wrist?" Sierra questioned hoarsely.
"It isn't sprained or broken, but it is badly bruised," the EMT informed her. "Ice will help with the swelling, and the brace should stay on for a week."
Sierra nodded and mentally made a note to put ice on it tomorrow morning. It was almost ten in Beacon Hills, but she wanted to go to sleep and forget this day ever happened.
The teenager forced a smile. "Thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome," the EMT returned the gesture softly. "I know what you've seen tonight is scary, but you will get through it."
Sierra stayed silent but hopped down from the truck, wincing slightly. Her jeans had been ripped by the fallen shelf, leading to a couple of scratches and bruises she knew she would feel tomorrow morning.
"Sierra!"
Her head turned to reveal a boy with worry plastered all over his face.
In seconds Stiles was by her side, and his hands gently grasped her elbows. His whiskey eyes searched her face and examined the blood on her forehead with furrowed brows. "Where does it hurt?" he hurriedly asked. "Have you been checked out? Wait a second, is that a brace? Oh my god, Sierra, I thought you had been killed."
Stiles immediately pulled his best friend into his embrace with one hand on her head as he sighed in relief.
"Stiles," Sierra said calmly, her voice slightly muffled from being hugged so tight. "I'm fine."
Her best friend pulled away, but only by a couple of inches. He kept his grip on her, concern still flooding his veins. Stiles acknowledged the crack in her tone and placed his fingers on her cheeks.
"I'm fine," she repeated to convince him and herself. She released a shaky breath, finally coming to terms with what she had witnessed in the video store. "I'm alive, aren't I? I'm fine."
Tears gathered in her blue eyes, and Stiles pulled her into his arms again as Sierra began to let her emotions get the best of her. Her fingers shook as the night's events replayed over and over in her head like a broken record. She bit down on her lip to keep herself from crying and closed her eyes while she took deep breaths. Sierra didn't need to break down in the middle of the parking lot. She'd survived a lot throughout her life; she could survive this too. Believing this, she forced her feelings down to the pit of her stomach and let Stiles hold her for the time being.
Sierra lifted her head from his chest and glanced towards the building with broken glass shards and yellow caution tape.
However, she focused on Jackson, who argued against the EMT in the ambulance she had sat in with Lydia by his side. Being outside when it happened, she was the one to call the police.
Sheriff Stilinski tried to calm him down, but the boy's frustration grew.
"No, you don't understand," Jackson spat at the older man, "which blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for minimum wage, rent-a-cop like you! Okay, now, I wanna go home!"
Sierra narrowed her eyes.
"Stop being a jackass, Whittemore!" she called out, marching over to him and folding her arms across her torso. "He's just trying to do his job. We get it. You want to go home, but so does everyone else, including myself. The quicker you stop complaining, the quicker you get to leave."
Being a lacrosse player, Jackson was pretty buff and held a couple of inches of height against Sierra. However, that didn't stop her from sending a harsh glare that he returned with no problem. "You know what, Page?" Jackson began, irritated. "You have a lot of words for—"
"For what?" Sierra cut him off, anger raging in her eyes. "Finish that sentence, Whittemore. I dare you."
Noah stepped forward, putting a hand on Sierra's shoulder. "Alright, that's enough," he stated and glared at Jackson when he rolled his eyes. "Both of you. Now, you've both been through a lot, and everything you're experiencing is valid. But do not take it out on each other, okay?"
Sierra sighed but nodded her head. "Yes, sir."
Noah moved his eyes to the blonde boy, waiting for an answer. "You know, I took your statement already," he said. "And I'm pretty sure you would've had many more injuries if she didn't push you out from the shelf, isn't that right?"
Jackson remained silent, but he knew the sheriff was right.
"If I were you, I'd be trying to keep those types of friends close," Noah stated. "Not push them away."
"Woah, is that a dead body?"
The sheriff closed his eyes and sighed at his son's interruption.
Stiles pursed his lips from his dad's warning glance.
"Everybody, back up," his father stated towards the crowd of strangers. "Back up."
Scott watched the sight on the roof while Derek stood behind him.
"Starting to get it?" The older werewolf questioned, and Scott shook his head slightly.
"I get that he's killing people," the shaggy-haired boy said, his brown eyes on Stiles and Sierra talking to Stilinski, "but I don't get why. One of my best friends almost died tonight; I know this can't be standard practice. We're not supposed to murder everyone in the middle of the night, right?"
"Right," Derek replied firmly with a nod. "We're predators, not killers."
"So why is he a killer?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
*^*^*^*
Sierra walked into school the next morning feeling completely drained.
Her feet dragged from next to Stiles, who had his arm around her shoulder for comfort. She considered skipping, Jemma even said she could, but she wasn't going to let last night's event keep her from getting an education.
"I'm sorry I ruined our movie night again," she mumbled tiredly as they approached her locker. She leaned against it while Stiles opened her lock with no trouble to grab her chemistry book.
"Si, it's not your fault," he responded with a small smile. "I'm just glad you're alive." He shut the metal door and grabbed her hand. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? Everyone would understand—"
"No," she stated and blinked a couple of times. "I'm perfectly fine. Plus, it's Allison's birthday today, and I have to give her the card I bought."
Stiles bit his lip to keep his laughter in as she rubbed her face with her hand.
"Is it lunch yet?" she asked.
"Actually, it's time for chemistry," he informed and placed his hands on her shoulders to steer her in the right direction.
Sierra grumbled about the cursed subject, which caused her best friend to chuckle.
"Alright there, string bean?" he teased.
She shot him a glare, fueling his amusement as they walked into the room that made her want to stab herself in the eye with a pencil.
As soon as she sat down, she rested her head on her folded arms on the lab station.
"Say the word, and I'll take you home," Stiles coaxed, making her lips quirk into a smile.
She glanced at him but didn't move her head. "I'll think about it."
Mr. Harris stood at the front of the room, which fell silent after the bell rang. Before his lecture, he began listing out announcements, including the parent-teacher conferences happening later that night.
"Students below a C average are required to attend," he informed as he walked down the opening between the lab stations. "I won't name you because the shame and self-disgust should be enough punishment."
The man stopped in front of the pair's table, where Stiles was vigorously highlighting his textbook, and Sierra sat up to twiddle her thumbs.
"Anyone seen Scott McCall?" he asked, obviously directing the question toward the two.
The classroom door opened randomly to reveal Jackson with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Everyone watched silently as he made his way to his seat, and Mr. Harris approached him. "Jackson, if you need to leave early for any reason, let me know."
The lacrosse captain settled for a nod, not in the mood to talk.
"Ms. Page?"
Sierra lifted her blue eyes to meet her teacher.
"You as well."
Sierra adverted her gaze to her thumbs, feeling her classmates' stares, while Mr. Harris headed for the front of the room. He instructed the class to start reading chapter nine but then paused with his back facing the students as if he could see them by standing like that.
"Mr. Stilinski."
Stiles froze with the cap of the yellow highlighter in his mouth.
"Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs," Harris suggested sarcastically. "It's chemistry, not a coloring book."
Choosing to be smart instead of witty, Stiles puffed air through his cheeks, sending the cap into the air until it fell into his palm.
Sierra rolled her eyes at the dramatic action and kept her focus on reading her textbook.
"Hey, Danny," Stiles whispered quietly to the boy sitting in front of them. Danny usually was Scott's lab partner, but today he was on his own, considering Scott decided to skip without telling them. "Can I ask you a question?"
"No," Danny replied with his eyes on his textbook.
"What if I say please?"
"Still no."
Sierra sighed and gently tapped her classmate on the shoulder. "Sorry to be a bother, but I have a really important question to ask you?"
"Of course," Danny agreed with a nod, leaving Stiles speechless.
Sierra smiled kindly. "I was just wondering if you saw Lydia in homeroom today? We have to plan a birthday surprise for Allison."
Danny thought for a second before he shook his head. "No, she wasn't there this morning."
"Thank you." The boy turned back to his book, and Sierra smirked proudly at her lab partner.
"How did you know I was going to ask that?" Stiles asked her, dumbfounded.
She chuckled lightly, "I've known you since you were four; trust me, I know how you think. Just like I know you wanted to ask him about Jackson seeing the alpha from last night even though I told you everything."
Everything except how the alpha called her out by name. She kept that detail to herself.
Stiles scoffed to disagree, but her stare made him fake a cough. "Fine," he grumbled under his breath. "I won't ask Danny about Jackson." He cautiously glanced towards Mr. Harris, happy to find him busy working on their previous tests. Despite what he told Sierra, he nudged Danny on the shoulder once more, "Can I ask you another question?"
"Answer is still no," Danny replied dully.
"Do you find me attractive?"
*^*^*^*
Later that day, after lunch, Sierra walked out of her fifth period and headed toward her locker. A hand slipped through her own, which caused her to jump. Relaxing when she saw Stiles next to her, she didn't try to break away and instead tilted her head at the phone pressed against his ear.
"It's Scott," he whispered to her, ignoring the shaggy-haired boy's complaints about his many messages.
"You should tell him how you fell out of your seat after you asked Danny if he found you attractive," Sierra teased, making him groan at this morning's events.
"It was a solid question," Stiles argued but focused back in on the teen werewolf on the phone line, who was, in reality, sat next to Allison as they drove toward the preserve.
Allison had told him this morning that she hated having school on her birthday because of all the questions she received when informing people she was one year older than them. She didn't have a baby or failed the previous year, despite what rumors floated around her previous schools. She simply moved too much that she had to repeat a year. So, Scott and she decided to skip class.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Stiles demanded to him, trying not to raise his voice in the hallway. "Lydia is M.I.A, Sierra almost died last night, Jackson looks like he has a time bomb inserted in his face, another guy is dead, and you have to do something about it."
"Like what?" Scott replied, slightly curious but more annoyed.
"Something!" Stiles snapped back.
Scott rolled his eyes and mumbled about solving it later before he hung up the phone.
"Unbelievable," Stiles stated and stuffed his cell back in his pocket. He stopped walking and faced the girl by his side. "I know I promised to take you straight home so you could take a nap, but any chance you could join me in checking in on Lydia? I want to hear about last night from her perspective, but I don't want to do it alone."
Sierra gave him a smile and squeezed his hand for reassurance. "My little detective," she teased.
Stiles ignored the flush in his cheeks to ask, "So you're in?"
"Always."
So, the minute the final bell rang, Stiles and Sierra hopped in the Jeep and drove across Beacon Hills to the Martin residence. The house stood tall, and it was a lovely home, one Sierra has visited before, but Stiles nervously gulped.
"I'm going to let you do most of the talking," he told her with his hands in his jacket's pockets. Sierra giggled and pulled on his arm to make their way up to the porch. She pushed the doorbell before stepping back next to her best friend to wait patiently.
A couple of seconds later, a middle-aged woman that shared Lydia's strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes smiled kindly in greeting. "Sierra," the adult recognized happily. "It's good to see you, dear. How have you been?"
"I'm doing great," Sierra replied with a grin. "Sorry to bother you, but Stiles and I recognized that Lydia wasn't in school today? We wanted to make sure she's okay and give her what she missed today in class." She motioned to her purse that held her schoolbooks, which caused Mrs. Martin to open the front door wider.
"Of course, you can; come on in."
They followed her up the front steps and down a carpeted hallway before she stopped in front of a closed white door. Knocking twice, Mrs. Martin opened the door to reveal a gray-colored bedroom with Lydia laying down in the middle of it. "Sweetie, there's Sierra and a Stiles here to see you," she informed her only daughter.
"What the hell is a Stiles?" Lydia grumbled from on top of her sheets as she observed her painted nails lazily.
Mrs. Martin looked at her guests sheepishly, rubbing her hands together. "She, uh, took something to ease her nerves," she explained, embarrassed. "You can go in."
"Thanks," Sierra told her as Stiles and herself walked fully into the room.
"Hey, Lydia," Sierra greeted her friend, who was laying on her side, softly.
Lydia pursed her lips at the visitors, her head resting on her hand with some loose strands of hair falling over her face. "What are you doing here?" Lydia questioned, loopy as she crossed her ankles.
Stiles avoided looking anywhere but her eyes due to her choice of clothing and rubbed the back of Sierra's hand with his thumb. "We wanted to make sure you were okay," he explained, and they both took seats on the edge of her bed.
The drugged-up teenager licked her lips, not caring that her hair was in her mouth. "Why?"
"We were worried about you," Sierra shared with furrowed brows, realizing Lydia most likely was not going to remember anything from today with all the medication in her system.
They watched in confusion as she placed an arm on Stiles' shoulder, which made the boy send his best friend a crazed glance.
"I feel," Lydia started, leaning in towards Stiles closely, "fantastic."
Stiles forced a laugh while Sierra held back her giggles with her hand, and the strawberry-blonde swayed her head as if she was listening to a song.
Sierra's blue eyes landed on an orange bottle, next to a stuffed giraffe on the white nightstand. She leaned over Lydia's legs to grab the prescribed bottle and let out a low whistle.
The Stilinski boy looked over curiously, swiping off Lydia's hand that was brushing his face.
"I bet you can't say I saw Suzy selling seashells by the sea shore ten times fast," Sierra challenged the girl.
Lydia tilted her head with an eyebrow raised, accepting the bet. "I shaw Suzy," she started but stopped at the incorrect pronunciation. She blinked, and Sierra let out a chuckle. "I shaw," she tried again. A blank look took over her face while Sierra placed the bottle back on the nightstand. Her arm broke her balance as thoughts of last night's events rattled her memory.
"I saw," Lydia said correctly, as if in a trance that made her classmates look at her in concern.
Sierra place her hand over Lydia's and spoke softly. "Lydia, what did you see?"
"Something...."
"Something like," Stiles urged her to continue with a suggestion, "a mountain lion?"
"A mountain lion," Lydia repeated with a slight nod, but her green eyes held something darker, something she didn't want to believe.
Stiles asked Lydia if the mountain lion was something the police told her.
"A mountain lion," Lydia stated once more, still in a daze.
The Stilinski boy grabbed the stuffed giraffe and held it in front of the strawberry-blonde, next to his face. "What's this?"
Lydia turned her head to see what he was holding and said, "A mountain lion."
Sierra pursed her lips while Stiles winced. "Okay," he commented and placed it back where it belonged. "You're so drunk." All of a sudden, Lydia fell forward, her head on his lap, unconscious. Slightly panicking, he whipped his head towards his best friend. "What the hell?" he whispered harshly. "Get her off me!"
"I thought you liked her," Sierra reminded him. "Shouldn't you, I don't know, have a spasm or something?"
"Just get her off!"
A few minutes later, Sierra successfully pulled Lydia off of Stiles and helped her cuddle a pillow instead. Within minutes, Lydia fell asleep.
"Okay, I think we're good," Sierra stated in a whisper as she observed Lydia on her bed. Stiles smiled at his best friend while she draped a blanket over the sleeping teenager. "She's going to regret taking that medicine tomorrow."
He grasped Sierra's hand, forcing her to stand up. "Now we can go home so you can sleep," he informed her with a grin.
He knew how tired she was; however, she refused to reveal the real reason she tagged along to Lydia's house. She didn't want to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the alpha was there to haunt her dreams.
Their attention turned to a buzz from Lydia's cellphone. "You want me to get that?" Stiles asked the unconscious girl while Sierra shook her head in amusement. He grabbed the device and looked at the touchscreen.
Stiles informed Sierra, "It's a text." He glanced up, "I don't know how to—"
Stiles cut off his sentence as a video played across the small screen, which made Sierra purse her lips. "What?"
She was met with silence as Stiles widened his brown eyes. He brought the phone closer to his face to make sure it was legit and could only stutter to his best friend about what he discovered.
Sierra rolled her eyes and took the phone from his hands to see for herself and almost dropped it when she saw the alpha staring back at her.
Lydia caught it on video.