Chapter Text
Saturday, January 22, 2016
11:03am
“Get up,” Heather says, pulling the blankets off of me. “You can’t mope forever.”
“Watch me,” I say as I roll over and cover my eyes with my arm.
“MOM!” Heather calls, storming out of the room.
“Heather!” I shout, stumbling out of bed. If Aunt Bev gets involved I’m done for. “This is betrayal of the highest degree,” I scream, chasing her down the stairs.
“Stiles is refusing to go out with me,” Heather is already pouting at the kitchen island. I’m too late. I glare at her as Aunt Bev’s back is turned away from us as she makes coffee. Heather sticks her tongue out at me.
Aunt Bev turns to face us and we both give her smiles to hide our misdeeds. She smiles at Heather but turns her eyes of concern at me. “Why don’t you want to go out?” She asks calmly.
To anyone looking from the outside this would seem normal. A normal question that anyone would ask but to me and Heather it means something totally different. If I don’t crack soon and agree to go out this will turn into a you can’t sit back and let life happen without you speech that never fails to get you to leave the house.
I must be in a bad mood this morning because before I know it, I’ve chosen war. “For one, Heather said nothing about going out. She just stole my blankets and yelled at me,” I glare at Heather as I say it and she only smiles at me from her stool. “For two,” I turn back to Aunt Bev as Heather goes to the fridge, “I went out yesterday and I think I deserve a day in bed.”
Aunt Bev leans back on the kitchen counter giving me her look that says, ‘Are you serious?’ The only thing that could make it worse is if she had a cup of coffee in her hands and was looking at me through the steam.
“Honey, you can’t spend a whole day in bed,” she argues, “It’s not healthy."
“Ya, Stiles,” Heather adds with mock concern as she grabs my Lucky Charms. The nerve.
“I know that,” I stress. “But sometimes it’s nice to spend a day at home.” I pull a sweet smile on my face as I continue, “At home with my family.” I’m practically batting my eyelashes here and Heather is definitely taking a picture of me right now for blackmail. Her barely contained laughter says enough.
“Oh please,” Aunt Bev waves off as she turns to pour herself a cup of coffee. I was really betting on the family sentimentality. “Your Dad is off at work for the day and I’m planning on grading papers.” She turns back to me. Her face has a disbelieving look as she leans back, cup of coffee in hand. I’m so not winning this one. “So the only quality family time you're getting today is from spending time with Heather and she seems to have a nice day planned out for you two.”
Shit I’ve so lost.
“Ya Stiles,” Heather pouts, Lucky Charms in hand. “I’ve been planning all morning, I thought you would be happy.”
That demon.
Aunt Bev gives me a pointed look that says, you can’t say no now or you’ll hurt her feelings. Heather smirks from behind her as Aunt Bev gives me a kiss on the head. Heather grins even bigger as Aunt Bev heads down stairs to Dad’s office in the basement.
“Your evil,” I glare at Heather.
“And I have an amazing day planned,” she grins.
I groan in response because there is no way that what she has planned is any way going to be pleasant for me. Hopefully Lucky Charms can sooth my poor soul.
—
11:15am
“Sanchez, have you heard back about the ranger reports for last night,” I ask coming in from morning patrol.
“Arther says it should be in by noon,” she replies.
“Thanks, just drop in on my desk when it comes in.”
“Can do!” She turns back to her computer.
It’s strange. This case. Not a single attack or death has been reported since Nessa. There was an entire week separating her death and Jane Doe’s. In between that time there were no deaths, no attacks, and no unusual disturbances in the preserve. There have been no reports of strange animal deaths in months beyond a dead deer with a brand found on the edge of the preserve a month ago.
I’m supposed to believe this is some wild animal, but there have been no sightings of an animal that could do this. Hikers have been known to report owls hooting too early or too loudly or too often. Yet nothing about an animal that could do this has been reported outside of the days the girls were found. It's more than just strange, it makes no sense.
“Morning Sheriff,” Wilson calls. He seems to have pulled Baker into his coffee gossip today.
“Morning,” I mutter. Who’s been moving my mug? How did it get in the back? “What have you pulled Baker into this morning?”
Stiles would have a field day if he heard me asking about the latest town gossip. It’s not always a reliable source of information but it does give a good idea of what is happening and what people are finding important. It's also entertaining and good for morale. Not that I’d tell Stiles that. He hears a bit of interesting gossip and he’s off chasing it. I swear he’s a magnet for trouble. I swear that boy is just looking for something to send me to an early grave.
The coffee pot spews out the first drops of hot coffee. It squeaks filling the silent space. Wilson has never been quiet a day in his life. He looks like he just ate a lemon. Just like that time Stiles stole those hand- Stiles.
I sigh. “What has my son done this time?”
Wilson and Baker stare at each other. Baker is gripping their coffee a bit too tight and Wilson’s eyes start to search the room as if looking for an escape.
The coffee pot lets out its last few drops with a scream. “Wilson,” I let out with the machine's last squeal.
Wilson flinches. “Well,” he drags out. “Martha was at the bowling alley last night.” He turns to Baker with a silent plea.
Baker takes a long sip of their coffee like they're trying to drown in it.
Wilson goes on. “She said she saw Stiles there… with a man.”
“Is that all?” I laugh pouring coffee into my cup. “Him and Heather went out with friends last night, I’m sure it was some guy Heather knows. It was probably just that guy she’s been seeing.” I take a sip of my coffee.
Wilson clears his throat. “Well,” he trails off again, looking back and forth between me and Baker. “He wasn’t just seen with a guy he… um.”
“Come on out with. It can’t be that bad,” I say.
“He, well,” Wilson trails off.
Baker lets out a frustrated groan and shouts, “He fucked the guy in the bathroom.”
I choke on my coffee and rush to spit it out into the sink.
“Sheriff I-”
“Stop,” I shout, still coughing into the sink.
I don’t want to yell at my deputies. Not for a personal matter, but what the hell is wrong with that boy! He could have been arrested for that and he’s only seventeen. Not to mention if the guy was older. If that man-
I need to calm down. Get the facts first. Don’t rush to conclusion.
Neither of the deputies have said anything yet and words start leaving my mouth, “Are you sure because Martha tends to exaggerate these-”
“It wasn’t just Martha that heard.”
“Heard?!”
Wilson clears his throat suddenly. “Well after Stiles… dragged him into the bathroom there were some… well… interesting noises,” he trails off.
If only the ceiling light could blind me right here and now.
I move my gaze back to Wilson and Baker. Baker looks like they're waiting for the floor to collapse under them and Wilson seems to be waiting for my own outburst.
I take in a breath. Get the story and then create a plan of action. “So the town is talking about my underage son’s sex life?” I ask. I should know how big of a story this is. This could be bad for Stiles, he’s already had to face so much at school.
“Well, not exactly,” Wilson trails off once again looking to Baker for help.
“Wilson,” I shout. “You better get on with it because my patience is so far out the door-”
“There was an argument,” he lets out a breath that visibly leaves his body. “Martha said after the whole bathroom thing Stiles stormed out. Martha said Stiles was super upset and yelling. He apparently told the guy that he never wants to see him again. Everyone’s been theorizing about what could have happened and with who the guy is…”
If that man hurt my son. Breath. “Are you sure?” I grit through my teeth, this isn’t the time to freak out. Wilson nods but doesn’t look at me. I take in a large breath. “Who was it?” I ask as calmly as I can manage, but Baker still flinches at my words.
Neither of the deputies say anything. Baker is staring into their coffee cup and Wilson seems to be looking for an exit. I feel a vein ready to pop in my forehead. “If this man hurt my son and you didn-”
“Derek Hale,” Baker lets out.
The Hales are back?
—
11:45am
“Turn left up here,” Heather directs from the passenger's seat.
She’s still refusing to say anything about what we’re doing today. I thought we’d be going into town and shopping or seeing a movie or whatever it is she finds to be fun. She had me drive right through downtown though and now we’re in some high end suburbia.
“Its the third one on the left,” she calls out.
Third on the left… “Why are we going to Allison’s? How do you even know where she lives?”
“I was talking with Lydia”
“Since when do you talk to Lydia?!”
“Since you introduced us.” Like that answers my question. “Anyways, we exchanged numbers and she and Allison were planning to unpack some of Allison's things today. We thought it could be a great opportunity to have a girls day.”
I give her a sink eye. “I’m not a girl.”
“Technicalities,” she says leaning back in her seat.
The last time I was here it was the middle of the night. As I pull into the driveway I can see it for the first time in the light of day. It’s just as intimidating as before. Three stories. Endless windows. The lawn is well kept too, like they pay someone to take care of it. It screams money. There isn’t even a single car in the frankly way too long driveway, they’re all probably in the attached garage. Nothing says we have so much money that we don’t even need to flaunt it like keeping the cars in your multicar garage.
Heather throws her door open, leaving the car. I could leave. I could drive away. Go anywhere else.
“Stiles!” Allison calls out running down the driveway. Shit. I have to stay now. Allison’s puppy dog eyes are worse than Scott's and she’s just so nice. This friendship may be the worst decision I’ve ever made.
—
7:34pm
I don’t know if hospitals are worse during the day or at night. At night a hush falls over people. Conversations are whispers layering over squeaking footsteps and beeping machines. There is something rhythmic about it, it could almost be calming. Then a patient starts crying or screams through a nightmare and nurses are rushing at the sound of a blaring alarm. Then your ears catch a conversation between nurses and doctors that's more honest than anything they tell loved ones in the day.
Dominic fell from a tree once when we were kids. We told him to jump. We were too young to realize that he could get hurt. That he wouldn’t heal like the rest of us. He fell on his arm, then hit his head. There was so much blood and he was crying. Mom was so angry. She was angry with Laura mainly, but the rest of us still got an earful. Dominic was taken to the hospital and held overnight for observation, he had a serious concussion. They wouldn’t let us in outside of visiting hours so we snuck out and listened from outside. We just wanted to make sure he was okay and still breathing.
Even though I was the youngest, my ears were better than Laura or our cousins. I could hear Dominic and the background of the hospital but I picked up a conversation in the hallway. A younger girl was in the room next to him and she was going to die. They gave her two days before she would need assistance breathing. Then I heard an older man going into cardiac arrest and a woman taking her last breath. It was horrible.
But then there is daytime at the hospital. Everything is louder, there are more people. It's a cacophony of noise. I wouldn’t be here if there was anywhere else I could go, anyone else I could talk to. I’ve pushed away the only other option I had. I have no one.
“Visiting hours end at nine,” the nurse says before exiting, closing the door behind her.
It’s strange seeing the room without darkness. It’s somehow worse. The walls are painted off white, well it looks like time has made it off white. There isn’t a single picture on the walls, I guess they leave those for the patients who can open their own eyes. The floor is identical to the long hallway, but the lights are an older model, producing a warm yellow. There is only one chair in the room. A gray cushioned chair in the corner, near the foot of the hospital bed.
Uncle Peter looks the same. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.
I’m surprised I made it through security. I’ve barely been able to control myself since last night. I haven’t been at the edge of shifting for that long since I was a child. Something is wrong. I-
“I shifted in public,” I let out. “I couldn’t control it. If it weren’t for Stiles… I hurt him. Not physically but… I was a jerk. Worse than that. Peter, I don't know what's happening to me. Something is, its wrong. I know that my control is slipping, like as a kid, like after the fire but there’s something else. It’s Stiles.
I should be focused. The alpha hasn’t been seen since the girl died. It’s been a week now and nothing new has shown up and I’m no closer to finding him. I just ruined my deal with Stiles. He agreed to help me but… He probably won't go anywhere near me after last night.
I saw him with that guy and… There was no reason. No reason for why I lost control and then his scent was different and it sent me spiraling out of control. I said something horrible. I hardly even know him.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Everyone is dead and I’ve already chased off the first person I’ve started getting close to since… What’s wrong with me?! Please! Uncle Peter.
Just wake up, anything! You always know everything and you can solve all of this. I just- I just need you to wake up. Anything! Please!
Uncle Peter, please. Please.”
—
7:40pm
September 16, 2006. Motor vehicle theft. The vehicle was owned by Parker Hale. Mr. Hale dropped all charges the next morning after Derek spent the night in jail.
November 25, 2006. Reported for trespassing by Adam Krasikeva. Charges were dropped soon after.
Multiple charges between June 2007 and May 2008 in New York State. Charges included Disorderly Conduct- Public Intoxication, Illegal Possession of Alcohol, and Trespassing. The majority of charges were dropped soon after being placed.
Any records of the charges from New York State were practically nonexistent and anything that could have been prosecuted was dropped surprisingly soon after being reported. My best guess is it had something to do with his sister, Laura Hale.
The underage drinking charges that came up show fees that were paid off by Laura Hale. The most punishment Derek ever received was alcohol-awareness education and 10 hours of community service.
Derek’s criminal record ends in May 2008. Although more could have been removed from the database or not reported. Getting half of his criminal history took calling in more favors than I wanted to. In the end a very helpful secretary made the difference.
She shared that each time he was brought in, he was alone. No drinking buddies or fellow juveniles. Not even a girlfriend or boyfriend. Each time he was arrested it was Laura Hale that picked him up.
His arrests don’t have any clear pattern to them. They all happen randomly over the course of eleven months. Then they suddenly end after getting caught with beer on an open street.
His school records show he was in an online school. He graduated with a 3.45 GPA last spring. He attended graduation on June 5th at the local high school he was online through. After graduation all records of Derek Hale end. No evidence of him holding a job or attending college.
His sister Laura though is a different case. Records say she was in graduate school for her law degree and was working at a women's shelter for domestic violence survivors up until two weeks ago.
Her work said that Laura told her coworkers she had ‘family matters’ to deal with. She was unclear on when she would be back. The woman on the phone had a lot to say on the matter. Apparently, the entire office has been worried about her. She hasn’t answered any calls or texts since she called off of work.
The woman said it’s not entirely uncommon for Laura to abandon her phone for long periods of time. This has been the longest period so far. They tried going to her apartment but no one answered the door. They weren’t able to contact her brother either, but no one in the office has his number. Few have even seen him in the two years Laura has worked for the shelter.
It could be a coincidence. Derek Hale shows up in Beacon Hills soon after his sister suddenly disappears after telling people she was dealing with family members. It doesn’t sound like a coincidence.
I called Beacon Hills Hospital inquiring about Laura’s other living relative Peter Hale. As far as his nurses can tell nothing has changed with him since he was admitted. In fact the only recent visitor he’s had is Derek Hale.
That leaves all potential ‘family matters’ that need to be dealt with to her younger brother, Derek. Derek who doesn’t have any social media or trackable work. Derek who’s been spotted in Beacon Hills but hasn’t checked into a single hotel within twenty miles of Beacon Hills. The most recent record of him is a purchase of a Black Camaro with a California license plate. The purchase was made on Thursday. The only other sighting of him was last night at the bowling alley.
With the way gossip moves in a small town the return of a Hale should have been common knowledge by now. There is no way that he just arrived and was close enough to my son to have a public and emotionally charged encounter with him.
Something isn’t adding up here. Not a single Hale has been seen in Beacon Hill since the fire. One doesn’t just show up one day and have a public fight with my son after spending time together in a bathroom.
Derek’s Hale drove toward the preserve after leaving the bowling alley. Laura should still own the property out there but the county checks the house about every two weeks. Going to investigate the property is definitely within my jurisdiction. The hospital did say that Derek Hale just checked in to see his uncle.
—
8:06pm
“I can’t believe you wrote poetry.” Lydia calls from the other side of the bed.
“Don’t look at that,” I screech and dive to grab the folder from her hands.
Heather looks over my shoulder. “You’re a writer?” she asks.
“No,” I stress. “Just one of many failed attempts at a hobby.”
Lydia thumbs through the box next to me. “Photogrophy, drawing, painting-”
“All very bad,” I say, grabbing the box from her. “Barely worth mentioning.” I move to put the box in the closet.
“We need to go shopping again,” Lydia says. “Your wardrobe is promising but it could use some padding.”
“You should invite Stiles,” Heather suggests. “His wardrobe needs a serious makeover.”
“For the last time. My wardrobe is fine,” Stiles shouts. Heather throws a pillow at him.
“Is anyone going to actually help me unpack?” I ask.
“Hey I’m helping- HEATHER!” Stiles shouts, throwing the pillow back at Heather.
Heather catches the pillow and leans back on the headboard. “What I’m curious about is how Scott got you to be his girlfriend.”
“I’m not… We’re not official,” I let out. “We’ve been on two dates and I hardly think that-”
“Come on Allison, Scott is putty in your hands,” Lydia says.
“Well… This is the first time I’ve really,” I trail off. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Really?” Stiles asks as Heather says, “I find that hard to believe.”
“People didn’t really like me at my old schools,” I stress. “I was- I was weird,” I shout. “I had braces and… a bad hair cut and my dad owned guns. I was always that weird new girl and if anyone was ever interested in me, which they weren’t, my dad scared them off. I’m surprised my dad hasn’t scared Scott off yet.”
“Its always the dad with guns,” Stiles says.
“Once my dad found out I was having a guy over to study. We got to the house and he was cleaning his guns in the living room.”
“See that’s why I don’t tell my dad when they’ll be coming over.”
“And why you go to them instead,” Heather says cheekily.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” Stiles says, going back to the box of books on the floor.
“How did your Dad react to the whole Derek thing?” Lydia asks. “He must have heard by now, even my mother knows.”
Stiles groans, but Heather's the one to respond. “Theirs a reason we’re here instead at the Sheriff’s house,” she smirks.
“And I thought you just enjoyed my company,” Lydia remarks.
“My dad’s probably going to kill him,” Stiles says through his hands.
“Who’s getting killed?” Dad asks from the doorway.
“Dad!” I shriek.
“Knock. Sorry I forgot.”
Lydia and Heather giggle from the bed. “Hi Mr. Argent,” Lydia says.
“Hi girls,” he says.
“Still not a girl,” Stiles lets out.
“So who’s going to be killed?” Dad asks with a smile.
“Stiles’ boyfrien-”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Stiles yells. I can't help but laugh along with Lydia and Heather.
“Come on, you literally went on a date with Danny last night and fucked Derek Hale in the bathroom,” Lydia grins.
“WE did not fuck!”
“Okay they made out-” Heather says.
“There was none of that. None!”
Heather and Lydia continue to laugh at Stiles as he tries to stutter out an explanation. It's almost easy to forget that Dad is still in the doorway.
“For the last time,” Stiles lets out, “I. Did not. Have sex with Derek Hale.”
Dad is still as Heather and Lydia continue to laugh. His hands clench at his sides and his eyes almost seem afraid.
“Dad?” I ask quietly.
His eyes snap back to me. His body stays rigid but his fists unclench.
“Um,” he stutters. He clears his throat before continuing. “I was going to order pizza. Is pepperoni and cheese okay with everyone?”
Everyone nods. Dad’s eyes scan over each of us, he lingers on Stiles. His gaze turns to me and he smiles, but it doesn’t go farther than his lips.
“Good,” Dad says quickly, giving a last attempt at smiling before gesturing to the doorway. “I’m just gonna,” he trails off then walks out the door, closing it behind him.
“You’re dad is hot,” Heather says from the bed.
“Heather!” Stiles yells.
The two fall into an argument that Lydia watches with amusement, chiming in every so often.
Dad isn’t normally nervous when I have friends over. He’s more likely to try and intimidate or threaten them with his gun collection. I mean I don’t normally have friends over and he does worry about my safety, but he doesn’t show weakness around company. It’s unlike him.
Maybe it’s about Stiles. When Dad looked at him… I don’t know. He seemed, maybe, worried or concerned. Him and Mom have wanted me to invite Stiles over more since he drove me home from the party. Mom keeps calling him a ‘nice boy.’ She’s always asking, ‘Why don’t you invite that nice boy over?’ Or ‘When are you gonna have that nice boy over for dinner?’
That still wouldn’t explain what had Dad so rattled. I mean maybe he’s worried about the Derek thing. Teenagers having sex always seems to send parents into a panic. May its that they know his friend died. Ever since I went to Nessa’s memorial on Thursday Mom and Dad have been even more determined to have Stiles over for dinner or homework or whatever they can manage. Maybe they just really hate Scott and are hoping for Stiles to take his place.
For once I just want an answer. With every question comes more questions and no one seems to be sharing any answers. Anytime I ask Dad or Mom about what’s bothering them lately they just tell me everything's fine or to not worry. I’ve even tried asking Scott about why he and Stiles had been fighting or about what’s going on with Stiles. Maybe it was all just the Derek thing but I don’t know. I don’t know.
—
8:12pm
Tire tracks go up and down the driveway. They’re layered, likely over the course of a few days, maybe even a week or two. There shouldn’t be any tracks. The last routine check of the Hale House was January 5th. No one should have been out here, but someone has. It could be Derek but as far as I know he didn’t have a vehicle prior to Thursday. They better not be from Stiles’ jeep.
Multiple footprints can be seen throughout the entry way and first floor, none creating as clear of a path as the one leading to a closed door. The path is clear of enough dust to suggest regular use.
The door opens easy enough revealing a cement staircase. A wood railing appears to have once been drilled into the cement wall. The hardware is still in the wall and ash clings to the edge of the stairs and in the groves of the wall.
The rest of the basement is all cement, from floor to ceiling without decoration. The only light comes from the wall behind the staircase where a widow lets in the moonlight. The window is short and long, placed near the ceiling.
The wall the staircase shares has two doors. Each is locked. There are three doors on the wall across the cement hallway. Again each is locked. One of the doors shows evidence of being recently opened. A disruption of dust and dirt matching the path of a door opening and closing. A space near it is also disrupted. As if someone pushed the dirt away in a space large enough to sit down.
Then there is a path leading to the far wall. There are no doors or windows, but the wall is clean and footprints are leading to and from it. The wall feels normal. The same cement as the other walls, the same groves but without the layers of dirt, dust, growth, and damage. It's strange. Every other wall has these cracks and missing pieces. Some of them are so deep or clean that a tool must have been used to make them. One set almost looks like claw marks from an animal.
There must be more windows into the locked rooms, it would be strange to only have a single basement window.
A quick sweep of the first floor shows nothing but occasional footprints. The staircase to the second floor is nothing but ash now.
Outside there are more windows at the floor level. Shining a flashlight through the first one reveals the basement hallway. The next two are empty rooms with bars in them. They look like jail cells. What the hell?!
The next side reveals three windows. The first is the same as the last two. The second window is similar at first. The same door on the far wall and bars splitting the room in two. Then there are chains on the ground and what looks like spots of dried blood. Dark red spots. The light hits behind the bars, leaving lined shadows.
Cut in two by the shadows and light is a jacket. Stiles’ jacket. What the hell was my son doing here? What the hell did that monster do to him?
I need to call Stiles. I should have kept a closer eye on him. Since he’s gotten his license I’ve been too lenient. I should have been watching him. If anything happened to him…
There’s a flower. It’s the only living plant in the area. The dirt has been dug in recently. The grass is missing and there is dirt covering an area of grass as if someone had piled it there.
The flower is tall, a single stalk with deep purple, almost blue, flowers. Claudia used to grow it. What was it called? Something with an A… It’s not native to this area. I know that. Someone had to have planted it here, and recently.
I pull at it. It comes up easy enough but the roots don’t end. They pull up through the dirt in a line. They’re braided? They’re braided like a thick chain with more flowers.
I keep pulling and it's like a circle? No it's a spiral, going toward a center.
In the center I pull at the roots but they go straight down and are heavy like something is at the end. It’s like reeling in a fishing line with a large fish on the end.
I end up needing a shovel to make a dent. It’s just dirt for so long long until it isn’t anymore. The roots create a wall or a net. They’re wrapped or tied around flesh. Human skin.
“This is Stilinski requesting backup at the Hale House. Jane Doe has been found on the property. I need an APB issued for Derek Hale, wanted for the murder of Jane Doe. He’s driving a Black Camaro, with a California issued license plate 6IFS532. He was last seen this afternoon at Beacon Hills Hospital. I want any available units looking for him.”
—
10:30pm
I swear this house is a maze. What house only has bathrooms attached to bedrooms. In such a large house that is much closer to some fancy big house you’d see on tv you would think there would be at least one bathroom without a bedroom attached.
“They found the body,” a voice says with urgency. It comes from the doorway across the hall.
“I’ll send a party out tonight,” a man says. Is that Mr. Argent? A chair scratches across the floor.
“You can’t leave.” The sound of the chair stops. “Allison’s friends are over and she’s getting suspicious.”
“She doesn’t know-”
“She's smart,” the voice that should be Mrs. Argent states. “She’ll figure it out if we’re sloppy.”
Allison’s mom is involved in fashion and her father is an arms dealer. I doubt this is some fashion crisis or illegal purse smuggling. Could Mr. Argent be smuggling guns? They seem like the performative type. The big house and the family dinners. Allison’s mom always dresses like she’s about to go out even though she works from home. But then the bod-
“What do you want me to do?” Mr. Argent asks. I tuck myself against the wall.
“Send a party out to the preserve,” Mrs. Argent orders like a general. I get the mom thing but that doesn’t sound like a mom telling you what to do. “I’ll talk to Allison and her friends,” she continues. “I want you to keep tabs on the party, they should leave their radios active tonight and inform me if anything goes wrong. You won't leave this house unless absolutely necessary. The last thing we need is for Allison’s friends to be spreading gossip.”
What is this about a party? Is it like a hunting party? Allison said her dad was a hunter. That he would go out hunting regularly, but he wouldn’t take her with. Well Allison isn’t exactly the killing cute animals type but for a dad that put his daughter through self defense classes, years of archery, and gun training it seems strange.
Heals click on the hardwood floor. Shit, they can’t find me spying. To get to the staircase I have to cross by the door and Mrs. Argent will definitely see me and know that I was spying. Shit, shit, shit-
“What aren’t you telling me,” Chris lets out and the footsteps halt. I freeze against the wall.
“They have a suspect,” Mrs. Argent says. A suspect? She said there was a body. That they found the body. What body are they talking about? Was there another murder? Dad or Aunt Bev would have called all panicked by now if it were, ordering us to stay put or get home.
“Who?” Mr. Argent urges. How do they even know about a body? They aren’t assasines are they?!
“Derek Hale.” Laura. They found her body, didn't they. How are the Argents involved? Did they kill her? Are they… They’re hunters. Werewolf hunters!
Derek. Shit they’re sending a party out to find him and Dad will be looking for him by now if he’s a suspect.
Shit, shit, shit. The Argent’s are still talking as I sneak past the door. With the staircase in sight I start to run. The girls have gone up to Allison’s room by now and shit Heather. I don’t have time to take her home, but I can’t just leave her.
The girls are on Allison’s bed. I’m out of breath, I really need to start running more.
“Stiles?” Allison asks. All three heads snap to stare at me in the doorway. I really didn’t think this through.
“I… I have to go,” I let out.
“Did Uncle Noah call?” Heather asks.
“No, no. I just… I have to go,” it comes out like a question. I really don’t have time for this.
I go to grab my bag I left next to Allison's desk and Heather stands up and whispers in my ear, “What’s going on?”
Maybe she should stay here. But Allison’s parents are literal werewolf hunters. Well Heather’s human so they wont actually try to kill her. Hopefully…
Heather grabs my arm. “I totally lost track of time,” she stresses, adding panic to her voice as she turns to face Allison and Lydia. “My mom wanted us home by now,” she grips my arm tighter, her nails digging in slightly through my flannel. “We should really leave now or she’ll actually kill us.” She drags me toward the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” she lets out a final wave before pulling me through the doorway. Allison and Lydia’s goodbyes are faint in the background.
“What’s going on,” she says in a low voice as we get to the stairs.
“I don’t reall-” I can hear Mrs. Argents heels click. Shit. “We have to go,” I state as I rush down the stairs, dragging Heather with me.
“Stiles,” she lets out. The heels get closer. I can see the front door.
“Stiles,” Mrs. Argent calls out as I throw the door open. Shit. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” I say through my teeth.
“We really have to go,” Heather says, dragging me through the doorway. I close the door behind us. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asks without stopping.
“Please just get in the car,” I beg, holding the doorhandle. Heather glares at me but opens the car door anyways. Fuck.
—
“Allison,” Mom calls from the doorway. She looks mildly worried, her face and jaw pulled tighter than normal. “Is everything alright with Stiles and that girl?”
“Heather, said they’re out past curfew. Why?” Mom swats imaginary dust off her skirt. She knows something.
“They just seemed to be leaving in a hurry. Lydia, will you be staying?” Mom stares at Lydia expectantly.
“I’d love to,” Lydia smiles wickedly. “You’re so kind Mrs. Argent.”
“Yes, let me know if you girls need anything,” Mom lets out. She marches out the door, closing it behind her.
“Has Stiles seemed strange to you lately?” I ask, turning to Lydia.
Lydia lets out a laugh. “Stiles is strange.”
“No- I mean has his behavior changed.”
“I don’t exactly watch Stilinski-”
“Lydia!”
She takes in a breath through her nose then looks me in the eyes. “His friend died, Allison,” she says sharply. “Of course he’s not acting normal.”
“It just-”
“Enough!” she shouts. “I mean,” she fixes her smile and straightens her back. “Worrying isn’t going to help anyone. Let’s have fun tonight and show up to the wake tomorrow refreshed. I’m sure Stilinski has enough people fussing over him.”
Lydia’s probably right. Stiles is just grieving. It still doesn’t- No. No this isn’t some mystery novel or whatever. “My mom got me new nail polish,” I tell Lydia and she beams.
No more thinking of Stiles and my parents. It can wait for tomorrow. It can wait. It can wait.
—
“What’s going on?” Heather asks again.
“Nothing,” I mutter. We’ve barely made it down the block. I really don’t want to break any traffic laws, but I need to get Heather home and then I need to find Derek before the Argents do or my Dad does.
“Nothing?!” she laughs bitterly.
I see flashing lights as I turn the corner. The cars aren’t moving, that means-
“Why are you pulling over?” Heather shouts.
“Stay here,” I say, putting the car in park.
“Why are you pulling over?” Heather shouts. I go to grab the doorhandle.
“Stiles!” Heather yells. She can’t get involved in this. “Is it your Dad?” she grabs my shoulder, turning me to face her. “Has something happened?”
“No…” What the hell do I tell her? She can smell lies, but I can’t tell her the truth. I run my hands through my hair. The best lies are the truth. “It’s Derek.”
Heather grins. “You really know how to pick em.” With that her hands leave mine and she’s jumping out of the car, already strutting down the sidewalk.
“Heather,” I shout. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Heather,” I call, chasing after her. “Heather-”
She turns on her heels. “If you're doing this then we’re doing this,” she states. She turns back around, marching toward the flashing lights. She gives me no choice but to follow, I can feel the grin spreading across my face. “So I’m assuming Derek is in the car,” she turns her head to smirk at me. “So are we getting him out or what?”
“Wait,” I grab her arm, stopping us both. I’ve missed this. “We’re not getting him out. I just need to talk to him.”
“Alright.” She straightens up. “What’s the plan?”
“I need to get into the car. I suspect they're going to drive off soon so we don’t have a lot of time.”
“You need a distraction.”
“I need a distraction.”
Heather grins even wider and marches off toward the flashing lights.
I watch her walk until she reaches the police car, then I follow. Two deputies are standing outside the car talking rapidly. The taller one has his radio out.
Heather walks a few paces past the car before falling over and screaming bloody murder. The deputies rush to her and I run.
I throw the passenger's side door open, Wilson never remembers to lock it.
“What the hell is going on,” I say quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, panicked.
“I asked first.” Derek doesn’t say anything. I muscle through. “Look. I don’t have a lot of time and you need to tell me what is going on because-”
“They found Laura,” Derek grits.
“I know,” I stress. I look up at Derek and- “Oh my god,” I gag. “That’s blood. So much blood. Oh my god-”
“Take it.”
“Take what- Oh no. What is that?!” I screech.
“Take it,” Derek growls out with more force than before.
“Oh my god,” I say. “Why are you-”
Derek reaches through the bars and shoves his bloody claw into my hands. I reflexively try to drop the claw but Derek holds my hands closed.
“Why-”
“The library,” Derek growls.
“Derek I-”
“Go,” he shouts.
“But-”
“Now,” he growls, eyes glowing gold.
“You’re covered in blood,” I say. His shirt is drenched in it.
“Go.”
“Just take my jacket,” I say, pulling my arms from the sleeves. I’m glad I wore my oversized zip up, my normal ones wouldn’t fit him.
“Go.”
“Take it,” I shout.
“Stile-
“I’m not leaving till you take it!”
Derek looks at me and then at the deputy approaching. He turns back to glare at me as he accepts the jacket.
The deputies are walking this way. I can’t waste time. “Just,” I really need to go. Why am I stalling? “Be careful.” I throw open the door and crouch to the ground until I reach the shadows.
Heather should be making her way around the corner.
The deputies start their sirens. I don’t look back, I can’t be seen.
The sirens fade as I reach Rosco. Heather should be back soon.
They can’t hold him for long. They can’t. He has an alibi for Nessa’s murder and they found wolf hairs on the body, not human. As far as the Sheriff’s department knows, Derek is very human.
Why was Laura’s body human? When Scott found her she was in wolf form. How could her body change back? Why was any even at the Hale House let alone digging in the dirt?
The claw digs into my palm. Derek will be fine. I just need to research. I’ll find the alpha and Dad will let Derek go. Everything will be fine. Everything will be just fine.