Rage. A visceral need to maim, slash and tear. A vision in red and black, blood and destruction that Scott fell prey to. The Alpha's roar had trigger his shifting, turning him into a mindless beast that only lived to murder. He roared and clawed at the cold metal door in front of him, tearing it with a screeching noise. Through the crack, he smelled his preys and his bloodlust spiked, making his fangs hungry for flesh.
On the other side, Jamie was busy running around the room, desperately looking for a weapon to keep Scott at bay without harming him too much. He and Stiles had managed to trap him inside a locker right before he lost his human mind to his wolf one, but the werewolf was only seconds away from escaping his makeshift cell. The providential fire extinguisher that had saved Stiles' life before was nowhere in sight. The lacrosse equipment that usually littered the ground was stored in a locked closet, out of their reach. The wolfsbane Jamie had kept to deal with just this kind of situation was in his school bag, inside the trunk of Lydia's car.
Desperate, Jamie resigned himself to use his fists. Stiles had his baseball bat in hand and planted his feet firmly into the ground, facing the locker Scott was trapped into. His plan was to swing the bat straight at his friend the second he emerged from the confined space. Hopefully, the shock would snap Scott out of it. Jamie took place next to him, raising his fists. The teens exchanged a look in a feeble attempt to comfort each other.
Another screeching noise was heard, the metal screaming as Scott tore it apart. Red eyes glowed in the darkness of the locker before a deafening silence fell. It lasted a second that felt like an hour, anticipation so thick in the air it seemed to slow down time itself. The change was subtle, like a release in tension, but when they perceived it, Stiles and Jamie knew that was it. Scott charged at them, claws bare and roaring his lungs out.
Not wasting a moment, Stiles swung his bat at his best friend. It connected with Scott's stomach, emptying his lungs of air and making him bend forward in pain. The wooden bat didn't survive the impact and shattered into pieces, the splinters prickling Scott's skin. The werewolf barely had time to look up that Jamie threw his fist at him, aiming for his face. Just like Derek had taught him, he used his entire body, not just his arm, and directed all his energy at Scott's face. The punch connected with Scott's jaw and sent a wave of pain through his skull.
Scott staggered to the side, one hand on his stomach, the other on the side of his face. He blinked, not understanding what was going on. A pair of arms brought him into a hug and a voice apologized to him. He heard someone else groan and smelled blood. Immediately worried, Scott gently pushed Stiles away and went over to Jamie, who was holding his right fist with a pained expression. His knuckles were badly bruised, some to the point of bleeding.
It then dawned on Scott what had happened. Everything came back to him, the memories implacably inhabiting his thoughts and confronting him with what he had almost done. The guilt he felt was immense. His eyes watering, he turned on his heels and hid his face in his hands, incapable of facing his friends. How could he, when he could have ended their lives not a minute earlier?
The worst was, in his wolf state, Scott actually wanted to hurt his friends. He hadn't even considered them his friends anymore, they were just preys for him to play with, like a cat plays with a mouse before killing it. In that moment, he had wanted to answer his Alpha's call, he had wanted to join him and whoever was on his way was as good as dead.
A hand on his shoulder broke him out of his daze. Scott forced his eyes open and reluctantly faced his friends. They looked worn out but both managed to find the strength to smile at him reassuringly.
"We're okay."
The simple words lifted a tremendous weight from Scott's shoulders. They meant his friends were unharmed, but most importantly, that they weren't angry with him for losing control. Once again, they had his back and he couldn't be more grateful for it. He sniffed and looked away sheepishly, too proud to shed a tear in front of his friends.
"Sorry for punching you," Jamie added before he smiled. "But for the record, Mr. Harris is right when he says you have a thick skull."
Stiles laughed and added, "Sorry for hitting you with a bat. I guess we're even since you broke it."
Scott chuckled, a small smile appearing on his face. It seemed his friends were concerned with both his physical and mental health. And their own safety, it appeared, since he could hear police sirens in the distance. Instead of apologizing as well like he had planned to, Scott couldn't help but ask a question.
"When did you call the cops?"
His friends exchanged a look, "We didn't."
Stiles sighed, a wave of weariness attacking him for the umpteenth time that evening. The list of people he had to worry about was growing again. After Scott, Jamie, then Lydia and Allison, he now had to include his father to the not-so-exclusive circle of people threatened by the Alpha. Stiles moved to the door when Scott gestured for him to be silent. Knitting his brows, he appeared to be listening. Stiles and Jamie looked at him expectantly, not able to hear what his enhanced senses allowed their friend to perceive.
"The Alpha," he said, "it's going away."
Three relieved sighs were heard at the same time, the teens glad to have survived the evening. They made their way to the parking lot, not forgetting to pick the Jeep's battery on the way -- it was still in the classroom they had used as a refuge, in the middle of shards of glass. Jamie frowned when he noticed Lydia's car was gone but he quickly brushed it off when the Sheriff walked up to them, frowning.
"Why am I not surprised to see you here?"
The question was rhetorical, but Stiles felt obliged to answer.
"Because we study here?" he tried.
The Sheriff chuckled dryly and assessed their appearance. They looked quite disheveled, and oddly enough, his son was holding a car battery with as much care as he would show a newborn baby. Jamie scratched the back of his head, hesitating to speak.
"But, hum..." he started, attracting Noah's gaze. "How did you know to get here?"
"Well, we got multiple reports of civilians describing 'animal roars' in the area," he read from his notebook. "One sounded like a wounded cat, the other like a dog or a wolf howling."
The look the teens exchanged didn't escape the seasoned detective. Of course, his son and his friends had to be involved somehow. He sighed and decided that if the teens knew something, he would be a fool not to use it.
"Did you see or hear something that could help?" he raised his eyebrows inquisitively, using his best intimidating but confidence-instilling look -- it was a subtle expression he had mastered after years of interrogating suspects.
"Well..." Stiles spoke, hesitating.
"Alan Deaton is missing and the janitor is dead," Jamie blurted out with his usual amount of subtleness.
The sheriff did a double take at the trio. How come whenever something out of the ordinary happened in Beacon Hills, they knew about it before he did? If he didn't know them so well, he would find them highly suspicious. Especially his son. A voice prevented him from expressing his thoughts.
"Good evening, Sheriff. And I believe you three were looking for me."
The voice belonged to the always polite Deaton, who looked about as bad as the teens did. Scott gaped at his boss, pleased to see him unharmed. Stiles showed more restraint. In his mind, Deaton was still a strong suspect and could very well be the Alpha. Once again, his timing was more than convenient. The look on Jamie's face showed he held similar thoughts.
"How... How did you..." Scot stuttered. What he meant to ask was how his boss had managed to escape the inside of a locked car with his hands tied behind his back, all the while remaining undetected by the Alpha. Although he voiced it quite poorly, Deaton understood what his protégé meant.
"With great difficulty," he answered. "From my point of view, I think I'm alive because of you. I owe you a raise."
With an adult backing it, the teen's story had a newfound weight to it and the Sheriff called for reinforcement. Soon, police cars swarmed the parking lot, as well as an ambulance. The EMTs checked everyone was alright and decided to take Alan with them, just in case. Jamie checked his phone and chuckled when he saw he had received about fifteen texts from Lydia. She was worried about them and it appeared she had sent a few texts to Scott and Stiles as well. Jamie was quick to reassure her but frowned when she explained how she had manipulated Allison. They would need some kind of plan to win back the Argent's trust.
A tap on his shoulder made him look up from his phone. The Sheriff offered to drive him home, arguing he needed to talk to Henry anyway so it wasn't a bother. Wondering what the Sheriff wanted with his father, Jamie agreed. He bid his friends goodbye and followed the Sheriff, suddenly anxious to be home at last. It had been a long day.
Little did he know, his evening was far from over.