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bamboozledbird · 4 months ago

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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // prev, chapter 2, next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Original Female Character, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent Pairing: eventual Stiles x OFC, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: canon typical gore/violence, parental death, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author majored in english lit and is a choatic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: Four years ago, Drea Dickinson's entire life fell apart. Her mom died, her best friend replaced her, and all she could do was watch listlessly while everything else burned down around her. All she wants is to forget and maybe get through her sophomore year without flunking chemistry and completely unraveling at the seams—a seemingly impossible task with the sudden appearance of ghosts from her mother's mysterious past and a hair-raising beast ripping people apart all over town. It would be easier to pretend if she hadn't accidentally entwined her life with the most interrogatory bastard in town. She could have gone her whole life without meeting Stiles Stilinski, and she would've been perfectly fine, but now she's stuck knowing that she's made her bed in the fragile, breakable bones of the boy with all the answers. Chapter Summary: After an awkward encounter with Lydia Martin, Stiles realizes that his new acquaintance might be the perfect person to jumpstart his 15-year plan. Drea, on the other hand, isn't interested in discussing her ex-best friend; she's much more focused on the man who was attacked by the mysterious beast ravaging the town.

A/N: This is an entirely selfish project. This rewrite has been so incredibly nostalgic, and I may or may not have cried a few times because the TW era was such a special time of my life. To be 17 again, sigh. You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)!

Her dad’s SUV was parked in the garage when Drea finally pulled into their circle driveway. It was a rare sight; her dead battery had disrupted their usual routine. She was supposed to be safely tucked away in her room after an early dinner—take-out usually, sometimes a quesadilla if she was feeling exceptionally inspired—by the time her dad got home from work. It was dysfunctional in every sense of the word, but it was the only way they could function in the same space.

He used to stare at her from the other end of the dinner table: not eating, not speaking. The only way Drea knew he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a while, he moved dinner to his office. ‘Working dinner,’ he’d say in passing, ‘budgets are due.’ Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. It was better that way, Drea thought. They loved each other better from afar, where the power of nostalgia could cloud all the present unpleasantries. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her now. She wondered, and she desperately didn’t want to find out.

Drea shouldered her backpack and made sure her car lights were off twice before quietly creeping into the mudroom. She could hear the buzz of the microwave as she toed off her sneakers and tried to discern the smell emanating from the kitchen. Something with garlic and tomato. Bona Vita, probably. Her dad loved their al pomodoro.

She tried to make herself as small as possible as she skulked into the kitchen, shoulders hunched to her ears and grip tight around the strap of her backpack. Her dad’s back was to her; she could see the wrinkles in his collar from where he tugged at it when he was agitated. He stopped stirring his pasta once she reached the island.

“Did…” her dad trailed off for a moment, still facing the kitchen counter, “did everything go alright with the Sheriff?”

Drea shrugged even though he couldn’t see her, “I guess.”

“It’s just,” he rubbed at his jaw and looked down towards the oven, “it’s almost eight. I was wondering…worrying.”

He still wasn’t looking at her. Drea stared at the back of his head and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Look at me. Her brows pinched, and her back molars ground together. Look at me.

“I called him. Sheriff Stilinski. He said that you didn’t speak for long.”

“Didn’t have anything new to say,” Drea shoved her hands into hoodie pockets, realizing belatedly that she forgot to give Stiles his sweatshirt back. Another problem for another time.

“That’s not what I—” Drea’s dad grasped the lip of the counter and hung his head like it suddenly weighed too much for his spine, “I was wondering what happened to you.”

“Oh,” Drea shifted her weight onto her other foot, “dead battery. I think it was the door light.”

Her dad nodded a little, “Do you need someone to pick up your car?”

“Got a jump from a friend.” Not a friend, not really, but she supposed it was the closest she’d come to one in the last four years. That was just a little too sad to say out loud.

“Good.” He nodded again, “Good.”

Drea nodded because it seemed like the only thing to do and slipped towards the hallway. She’d taken no less than five steps out of the kitchen when her dad said, “You could call me. Next time, you could call me.”

Maybe. Maybe she could if he would look at her.

Monday came, and Drea had forgotten about Stiles Stilinski and his sweatshirt. In all fairness, she almost forgot her essay too. Lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps lack of Wellbutrin—she’d also forgotten if she’d taken her pills before she left for school.

Drea crinkled her nearly empty can of Red Bull a few times and twisted the tab in circles until it snapped off. Nervous habit. She flicked the tab into a trashcan and squeezed the can until it crumpled in on itself. Okay, she’d definitely forgotten to take her pills. However, on her list of things to forget, homework outranked antidepressants by several places, so her day wasn’t off to the worst possible start in the world. Dr. Lin always said that she should spend at least five minutes every morning changing her ‘self-talk’ to ‘gratitude, not negatude’—she also said that consistently taking her meds was imperative to her mental health, but one out of two wasn’t so bad. See. Positive thinking; she was killing it.

It was, however, pretty damn difficult to put a positive spin on a bloodied school bus cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape.

Drea lingered on the outskirts of the swarm of teenagers gawking behind the barricade that a few deputies were fruitlessly attempting to enforce. The back door of the bus was crumpled in the middle, wrenched open, and barely clinging to life with a lone intact hinge. More concerning, was the blood smeared across the yellow paint and the bloody handprints pressed against the windows.

She peered through the mass of shoulders in front of her and squinted. There were four large gouges in the door and tears in the vinyl seats—claws: Drea realized. They were claw marks.

Baffling. The entire scene was, in all sincerity, baffling.

Awful, Drea quickly corrected herself. The carnage was awful, first and foremost. It was awful, horrific, and totally tragic…but it was also bizarre. Animals, wild or not, generally didn’t hunt on school grounds; that honor was reserved for creepy super-seniors and perverse volleyball coaches.

Drea chewed on her bottom lip and stewed. A bear seemed most likely, given the battering the bus took, but they were a long way from Los Padres. Mountain lions and coyotes, however, often strolled into small-town suburbia to snack on unaccompanied emotional support animals. Still, she doubted they had the strength or dexterity to rip a steel door off of its hinges.

The first warning bell rang, and it was especially shrill while Drea was lost in her own head. She managed to not flinch with a herculean effort and pushed through the remaining voyeurs towards the front doors. Stuffing her airpods into her ears, she turned up the volume on her phone until the bass vibrated all thoughts of coyotes, cougars, and bears out of her mind. Oh my.

Positive: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded her full and undivided attention.

Negative: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded her full and undivided attention.

She grabbed her chemistry notecards, a few highlighters, and a fat stack of books from her locker just as an overly-cologned jackass shoved his equally pungent friend straight into her crowded arms.

Positive: She hadn’t gotten the chance to organize her notes by unit number before they scattered all over the floor.

Negative: They were still scattered all over the floor.

Biting back a few choice expletives, Drea crouched down and gathered her notecards into a messy heap. She stretched across the scuffed tile for her highlighters; one brushed past her fingertips and rolled into the pointed toe of a sleek brown leather boot. Drea glanced up, apology ready, but her tongue went cottony when she locked eyes with Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin was many things to many people, but Drea supposed the general consensus would be that she was the apex predator—regardless of what the bloodbath outside might lead a person to believe.

Most students were consenting prey. Enthusiastically consenting, in fact. Drea understood the impulse. Knowing she could destroy you, that was the thing that made Lydia so undeniably captivating. There were few people who proved the theory of the sublime in the flesh, let alone before they had the chance to get out of Dodge and really grow up. It was only natural to gravitate towards the only exception in Beacon County. Lydia was the duality of fear and attraction. She defined indefinable beauty—because she wasn’t just beautiful (anybody could be beautiful), Lydia was fiercely beautiful and, in the same breath, the grace of girlhood. She was…she suckerpunched Jordan Aadams in the third grade for making fun of Drea’s eyes without lifting a single manicured finger; that was the closest Drea could come to explaining the phenomenon Lydia Martin left in her wake.

Lydia’s thick red curls spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at the obstacle in her path. The angry pinch in her brows softened briefly once she made eye-contact with Drea, but she quickly corrected her slip and schooled her face into a blank expression. Returning her attention to her friend, Lydia’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped over Drea’s copy of Metamorphosis and continued on with her conversation like it hadn’t ever stopped. Like Drea was just a mirage or a distorted oil-slick reflection—like she was a ghost who just wouldn’t fucking die already. Drea watched her go, forgetting to blink, until they reached Lydia’s locker on the other side of the hall.

Before she got extensions, Lydia liked to wear her hair in a French braid. Before she discovered full-coverage concealer, her freckles were golden against the fairness of her cheeks. Before everything fell apart, she was her best friend.

In the end, it wasn’t a terribly dramatic thing. There wasn’t a melodramatic scene or an explosive fight; sometimes, Drea wondered if that would've been better. There was a certain kind of brutality in a slow, quiet death; one that lasted long after the hot water had run out in the shower and shampoo stung her eyes. After the funeral, Drea could taste decay in their conversations, in their silences. The rot crawled listlessly—everything did back then—tauntingly sluggish. She saw the end coming weeks before they stopped speaking, and she didn’t even try to stop it. To be fair, Lydia didn’t either. On the first day of seventh grade, Lydia had new friends; they all smelled like vanilla and owned matching couture purses. She had always been magnetic, but evidently losing her only constant was her final quest before she transcended to godhood. Drea made her human; that must have been the problem. They were babies together. They were more than family. Now, they sat across from each other in a class she couldn’t bring herself to care about, and they did not look at each other unless it was straight through.

Drea snatched the runaway highlighter and quickly sunk back against the wall, pressing into it like she could force her body through the cracks in the bricks or at the very least shed the sentimentality clinging to her skin. She darted her gaze across the hall and almost snorted when she saw the amount of people who’d flocked to Lydia’s side within the last thirty seconds. Lydia was unobtainable, unknowable—and yet ever so desirable. No one really knew her, so of course they all wanted to be her.

Lydia only liked one of them, the new girl with shiny black hair and dark eyes; Drea could tell. Her top lip pursed ever so slightly when she was holding back a barbed comment and a violent eye roll. Usually, Lydia didn’t bother with niceties, but for whatever reason she’d decided her new persona should only intimidate peons with looks and confidence, never brains. It was a shame, really; her cave-dweller boyfriend desperately needed educating.

Drea resisted the urge to look across the hall again and smoothed out the bent corner of a notecard until ‘alpha’ became ‘alpha particle’. A shadow fell over the pink-highlighted text, and she frowned. Glancing up, her frown cemented when she saw Stiles’s elven nose and remembered that she still had his sweatshirt wadded on her desk chair.

“Hey,” Stiles adjusted his grip on his backpack, “did your car make it home okay?”

Drea nodded and shut her locker with her elbow, bending with the wobbling tower of school supplies in her arms until it stabilized again.

“Cool.” He nodded a few times, mouth puckered like a duck, and scratched at the back of his neck, “So. You and Lydia, huh.”

Drea stared intently at her notes, “Is that a question?”

“No, it’s a statement.” He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and leaned back slightly, “And that episode of telepathic taekwondo was definitely a statement.”

Drea glowered until ‘alpha decay’ and ‘helium-4 nucleus’ mushed together into an illegible pink blob, “I’ve got a statement for you—only two words actually.”

“So it is a thing.” She could hear the smirk in his voice as he grabbed the books from under her arms.

She refused to feel grateful, even as she readjusted her grip on her cards and managed to free one of her hands, “Get lost, Stilinski.”

“That’s three words.” The smirk was deafening now.

The one-minute warning bell rang and a mass of students swarmed the hallway, effectively drowning out Stiles’s smugness with a sea of jock whooping and band geek trumpeting. Drea met his gaze and smiled sweetly before stepping around him, “Kindly. Choke.”

She ignored the sound of Stiles’s large footsteps following far too closely behind her. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but English was his first-period and he did have her books in his stupidly big hands. Instead of flipping him off, Drea focused her itching fingers on stacking cards and pencils on top of her desk until Stiles sat down in the seat next to her—without permission. She changed her mind; he was annoying.

Stiles scooted the desk closer to hers with his feet, and the metal legs screeched against the linoleum flooring for her. “Was it like a ‘grew apart over the summer’ thing, or did some serious shit go down?”

Drea sighed heavily and lined her pencils and pens next to each other, first in order of length and then color, “Why do you care?”

His mouth remained open for a second, and then he shrugged a little too casually, “I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“You’re unnaturally irritating,” she grumbled, low in her throat, and scowled at her picked-apart cuticles like they had done her a particular disservice.

Stiles huffed through his nose and threw his hands in the air, “Come on, I totally saved your ass Friday—very chivalrously too, might I add. I won’t even press charges for the theft.”

“Theft?” Drea finally turned around in her seat to face him at the accusation.

Stiles nodded solemnly, “My sweatshirt. My most favorite sweatshirt of all the sweatshirts.”

Oh. Drea deflated a little; she’d forgotten about that pesky little detail again. She snatched her books off of his desk before their lives could become further entangled and replied flatly, “I’ll overnight it.”

“No, I insist you keep it.” His smile was a little too crooked to be truly cocky, “I’m a good guy like that.”

Drea tapped her pencil against her chin, eraser side up, and cocked her head to the side, “Isn’t it incredible how every self-proclaimed ‘good guy’ is exclusively terrible.”

Stiles’s face twisted into a petulant scowl as he collapsed against the back of his chair, and Drea was a little surprised that the desk managed to contain all of his gangly appendages without collapsing as well. “I like her, okay!” His exasperated confession carried to the next row of students, and Stiles melted into his seat when a jacked sophomore with no neck whistled lewdly behind them. Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles lowered his voice, “Actually, I’m kind of in love with her if you want to be technical about it.”

“Oh.” Drea blinked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh, dickface.”

“Sorry,” she grinned, not sorry in the slightest, “it’s just…isn’t everyone?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed wistfully, “Not like I am.”

Drea turned to get a better look at him, and she didn’t mask the doubt in her eyes. He was wearing a brown flannel that was practically mewling for a good ironing and a red t-shirt with the silhouette of a spider embossed over his chest. Spider-Man’s emblem, obviously. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d bet it was the Andrew Garfield version. Regardless, it was blatantly clear that Stiles’s home planet was lightyears away from Lydia’s.

Drea folded her arms over chest and leaned back against her seat, “Have you even talked to her?”

“Technically…no,” Stiles dipped his head from side to side like a bobble head and then pressed his palms together, gesturing with them every so often to emphasize the most ridiculous words in his sentence, “but we have a deep, unspoken connection, mostly via sporadic eye-contact.”

Drea just looked at him, unamused and unimpressed.

Stiles held up his hands like a director and kicked his feet onto his desk, “It’s about the long-game.”

“Gross,” Drea pulled a face. She wasn’t sure if she was referring to the gray wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or the pride in his long-con. It was probably a bit of both.

“Are you gonna help a Nobody out or not?” Stiles nudged the leg of her desk with his sneaker—the gumless one, thankfully—and sent one of her pens careening towards the edge.

Drea caught it before it could hit the ground and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not an ‘in.’” She returned the pen to its rightful place between her pencil and purple highlighter: a perfect rainbow of neuroticism. Drea straightened her row of writing utensils again and swallowed shallowly, “I don’t even know her anymore.”

For the first time since Stiles had popped up in front of her locker like a chronic zit, understanding clicked in his eyes. Actually, he almost looked apologetic. Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned forward onto his forearms, “So…what happened? Did you not make queen bee first-string?”

“No,” Drea bristled. After a long exhale, she crumpled in on herself a little and mumbled, “Yes…kind of. I don’t know. I have my version; I’m sure she has hers.”

Stiles clasped his hands together and nodded sagely, “There are as many truths as there are people.”

Drea’s brows scrunched, and her eyes went lidded as she flipped through her mental philosophy rolodex, “Camus?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Evangelion.”

Drea was startled into a snorty chortle, “Obviously you’re a weeb.”

Stiles hid his amusement behind a slow roll of his eyes, “You’re at least 1/16 weeb if you know Evangelion is an anime.”

Before she could deny such blasphemy, Drea was distracted by the boy who usually sat next to her—Greg something, she was pretty sure—coming to a stop directly between her and Stiles. He lingered next to the side of his desk, breathing heavily through his mouth like some kind of sick prowler.

Stiles glanced at him with a flat expression and then looked up again, brows shooting towards his hairline, when he didn’t leave, “Can I help you?” He jerked his head forward and shook it slightly, “Need a mint?”

Greg Something stared at him, red-rimmed eyes thoroughly glazed over, and Drea wondered if being faded at 7:45 in the morning was worth the tortuous five-hour wait until lunch.

“No?” Stiles waved his hand in the air; Greg didn’t even blink. “Okay seeya.”

It took him roughly 30 seconds to comprehend what Stiles was saying, but eventually Greg shuffled towards one of the remaining empty seats in the middle of the classroom.

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered before returning his attention to the side of Drea’s face.

She smirked slightly at her notebook, doodling a little bird with sharp talons along the margins of her notes on Kafka’s thoughts on absurdism—spoiler alert: the guy who wrote a book about a dude randomly transforming into a bug was a big fan of it. She added a long feathered tail to her bird and said, “It is his seat.”

Stiles scoffed and looked over his shoulder. They watched Greg shove a handful of Cheeto Puffs into his mouth in slow-motion for a moment, and Stiles replied, “I think he’ll live.”

“Oh,” Drea shook her head a little, freshly bitten lips curling around the extended vowel, “I’m not worried about him.”

Stiles aggressively clicked his pen with his thumb and pressed his mouth together until his lips disappeared into a flat line. “If you would just answer my questions the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep asking them, so, for the love of god—” fortuitously for him, he was cut off by a loud scratchy buzz before Drea could succumb to her base instincts and throw an eraser into his flapping mouth.

Principal Montoya’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker, “Attention students: I know that many of you are concerned about the…incident in the parking lot, but rest assured that the police have it well in hand. Classes will proceed as scheduled as they continue their investigation. Have a productive day, Cyclones.”

A resounding groan echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway, followed by the hum of students breaking into various complaints. Mr. Lyman thwacked his pointer against the whiteboard, and the force of his swing sent the cartoonish hand on the end of the stick into rapid vibration—effectively shutting everyone up. The quiet was only disturbed by the rustle of zippers being unzipped and papers being smoothed when he instructed them to turn their essays in.

Drea hastily wrote her name across the top of her paper and pointedly kept her eyes on the board when Stiles leaned across his desk. “Life’s short, y’know. One day you’re a traveling salesman, and the next you’re a grotesque, monstrous insect, wishing that you’d seized life when you had the opposable thumbs for it, so—”

“A man just died; have some class,” Drea interrupted him, voice dry as it was soft. Stiles might not care about getting in trouble, but she had worked very hard to remain on a no-name basis with all her teachers.

“We don’t know that he’s dead—or that he’s a he.”

“Oh yeah,” Drea jotted down the daily prompt in her notebook and muttered, “I’m sure the guy just decided to go home and sleep off the mauled limbs.”

“It could’ve been an animal,” Stiles huffed, bowing his head in submission when Mr. Lyman shot him a stern look from behind his desk. He continued with his hand over his mouth, muffling his words, “And they do run off to die alone.”

Drea stared at him for a long moment. “That’s cats. Are you saying a bear ripped a bus apart for a cat.”

“Well, if you say anything in that tone, it’s going to sound ridiculous,” Stiles muttered sullenly against his palm, and she was pretty sure that he was pouting behind it too.

She opened her mouth to reply and then squinted slightly when a boy with floppy hair skidded to a halt in front of them. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Greg, who was now licking the nearly toxic orange dust off of his fingers.

“Sit, Scotty,” Stiles jerked his thumb towards the empty desk behind him. “Good boy.”

The boy, Scott she gathered, did not look amused, but he sat down behind Stiles anyway and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Stiles whipped around and responded in a hushed screech.

Drea was distracted from her eavesdropping when Lydia’s friend sat down next to Scott—directly behind her. Her jaw could cut glass. She dropped her chin onto her folded arms and refused to let herself frown; the end result was a slightly constipated pout. It was just…Allison had just started going to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, and she was already completely intertwined in Lydia’s life.

Lydia was…prickly, so she was just surprised, that’s all, how easily Allison fit into her life. More palatable, Drea thought as she risked a peek over her shoulder; she must be more palatable than most. A terrible, ugly thing creeped over her, and she found herself imagining Allison choking on her beautiful, silky black hair until her beautiful dark eyes popped out of her head. Just for a moment. A brief, awful, horrible moment—until she remembered it wasn’t Allison’s fault.

“Hey.” Drea flinched when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She reluctantly shifted in her chair so that she could see Allison. She just looked at her for an uncomfortable moment, and Allison smiled awkwardly, “The tests.” Drea blinked and licked her dry lips, at a loss for words. Allison smiled again, a little nervous but still kind, “They're on your desk.”

“Oh,” Drea said dumbly and reached for the pile of papers on her desk that she’d missed during her lengthy period of dissociation. She kept one and then held out the rest to Allison, mumbling, “Sorry,” under her breath.

Allison looked at her for a moment, and Drea didn’t like the discerning look in her doe eyes. “It’s okay. I zone-out all the time.”

She could see why Lydia liked her; she was nice, overly so. Drea felt that ugly feeling slip into her mouth again, bitterness coating her tongue, and she wished that Allison was catty or at very least a vapid twit who was either too stupid or too self-involved to notice other people—like the rest of Lydia’s circle.

“I like your necklace.” Allison nodded a little towards the black chain around her neck.

A heavy pendant rested just over Drea’s sternum; the maze etched into the stone had eroded in places, like it had been left out in acid rain for decades. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was made of; her mother never said when she gave it to her, and she never asked. It didn’t matter much now.

“Thanks,” Drea finally said, because that was what normal people did when they were complimented, and she was a normal person. Mostly. She swallowed thickly and bit down on the scab in the center of her bottom lip before adding, “I like your jacket.” She did. It was simple, unadorned by gaudy zippers and lapels like so many of the other leather jackets on campus. She would wear it herself if she didn’t break into a sweat in any temperature warmer than tepid.

Allison’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and Drea quashed the sigh rising in her throat. Her smile was magnificent. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off, but my friend convinced me to—” Allison let out a little breathy laugh, “Sorry, you definitely don’t want to hear my jacket’s tragic backstory.”

She didn’t, not if it included hearing about Lydia’s fashion tips second-hand. Still, Drea managed a little smile, “As long as it doesn’t begin with a cow, you’re golden.”

Allison laughed and held up her hands, “It’s faux; I promise.”

“Ladies,” Mr. Lyman called from across the classroom, “I wasn’t aware that existentialism was so amusing.” Drea felt a dizzying heat crawl up her neck to her ears once she realized that the only noise in the room, other than Allison’s tinkly laughter, was the scratch of pencils on paper as students worked on their tests.

“Sorry,” they mumbled at the same time, and Allison mouthed another ‘Sorry’ just for her before Drea turned around. Damn. She liked her. How incredibly inconvenient. She almost wished that Stiles was still pestering her so that she had a real reason to be upset—until she finally got a good look at the mid-term, more specifically at the thickness of it. Drea flipped through the lengthy test and looked at the ceiling briefly: Six essay questions?

Positive: At least, she found a legitimate excuse to sulk.

Negative: She felt a migraine coming on.

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski x oc #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinski x ofc

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strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter seven

fic summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough – now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle it. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 19k

warnings; the possibly triggering scene from the show with Jackson being creepy in the locker room, slight gore maybe?, eventual explicit sexual content, oral sex (both m and f), fluff fluff and more fluff

chapter notes; the group tries to figure out who's been controlling jackson all this time. ben davis makes a brief return as my own personal plot device. stiles is his typically over-dramatic self and amber is, as usual, super into it.

masterlist

c h a p t e r s e v e n

restraint

Amber's nerves had her nearly dropping her phone to the floor of her car as she climbed behind the wheel while simultaneously trying to get ahold of Stiles. Fingers of her free hand fumbled over the touchscreen, already turning her key in the ignition as the call began to ring through. Stiles was answering before the first trill through the speaker had even finished sounding out, his voice frantic.

"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?" He shouted through the speaker, the pitch of his voice higher than normal.

"Is Scott still with you?" She asked immediately, taking the turn off of her street a touch too quickly than was probably good for her tires, "Because I was just with Lydia and-"

"Jackson escaped." Scott's voice supplied through the phone.

"He what?" Amber squeaked, letting off the clutch to shift gears and increase the speed of the car that much more, "Guys he's not-"

"Yeah, he got out and the asshole went straight to the police," Stiles told her, "His dad's here and my dad's pissed and Scott's mom is on her way down to the station."

"You guys are at the station?" She cursed, slamming on the breaks so she could make a messy three point turn and backtrack in the direction of the Sheriff's station.

"Yeah, and we're totally screwed," Stiles was telling her as she reoriented her car in the right direction, "My dad said the Whittemore's are filing a restraining order against Scott and I. As soon as Scott's mom gets here my dad has to read out the terms and-"

"Stiles!" Amber interrupted sharply, "That sucks but it's not important right now, okay? Lydia translated part of the kanima entry from the bestiary-"

"How'd she do that?" Scott cut in.

"She knows Archaic Latin, Scott. Now shut up and listen to me," Amber snapped as she turned onto the next street, "Mrs. Morrell translated it wrong! The kanima doesn't seek a friend, alright? The kanima seeks a master! Which means someone's controlling Jackson-"

"Woah, what?" Stiles exclaimed through the speaker.

"Stiles, you said that Jackson still didn't believe you when you were explaining everything to him earlier, right?" She asked, shifting gears as she went around a sharp corner.

"Yeah, pretty much." Stiles agreed.

"Well, so- If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing then he must not know someone's even controlling him." Amber deduced.

"Or he doesn't remember." Scott supplied.

"What if it's the same kinda thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles questioned.

"Right!" Amber recalled, "Like a fugue state-"

Scott's voice came through the phone again, "But then he'd have to forget everything.. The murder-"

"Getting rid of all the blood-" Amber offered up, an image flashing behind her eyes of Jackson's bloodied body at the nightclub. She thought of how he would've had to have washed the blood away himself after he'd killed Tucker, and Isaac's dad, and then the hunter-

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "He had help with one thing though.. The video. Someone else helped him forget that." He reminded them of the erased footage.

"Whoever's controlling him." Scott said quietly.

The tires of Amber's car squealed quietly in protest as she peeled into the parking lot at the station and jerked to a slightly crooked stop between the painted white lines.

"Jackson thinks that being with Lydia somehow made him immune and, like, delayed the whole werewolf bite thing-" Amber told them, throwing herself from the vehicle and nearly falling to the pavement in her haste to slam the door shut behind her, "Where exactly are you guys?"

"What d'you mean?" Stiles asked in confusion as Amber pushed the front door to the station open, "I told you we're down at the station-"

"Yeah, so am I," She panted slightly, adrenaline still pumping in her veins from the wild drive from her house, "So where are you guys?"

She let her phone drop from her ear to her shoulder as she stepped up to the door that led to the interrogation rooms, only to find the door locked, the handle stiff and unmoving when she jiggled it. She turned to cast an incredulous look at the female deputy who was watching her from behind the front desk and Amber gestured wildly at the door with her free hand.

"Tara, I know you recognize me," Amber said in exasperation, "C'mon, buzz me in-"

Tara frowned, slowly eyeing the girl's frazzled state, but pressed her finger down on the button to unlock entry into the hallway. Amber sighed gratefully as she rushed through, nearly running straight into Stiles' chest when she stepped into the hall at the same time that he and Scott stumbled out of the room at the front end of the corridor.

"Jesus!" She exclaimed in surprise as her boyfriend's hands came up to steady her.

She abandoned her phone completely, ending the call and shoving it into her pocket as she looked at her best friends.

"We need to find out who's controlling him." Scott quietly continued their conversation from before.

"D'you think he'll talk to us?" Amber questioned, "I mean.. After what we did? Kidnapping him and all?"

Stiles shrugged, "Yeah, it's us. He'll talk to us," He nodded before catching Amber's unsure frown, "..Right?"

It was at that moment that Sheriff Stilinski stepped out from a room further down the hall and cast a disappointed look at the three teens.

"Scott, your mom just pulled in. So, you boys get your asses into this room," He said firmly, "Now."

Stiles and Scott lowered their heads and followed the order, moving down the hall and into the larger interrogation room. Ms. McCall hurried past Amber only a moment later and the girl immediately moved to follow but Sheriff Stilinski held up a hand in signal for her to stop.

"No." He said simply.

Amber spluttered, taking another aborted step forward, "Wh- But- If I could just-"

"This doesn't concern you," He told her firmly before raising his eyebrows in question, "Does it?"

"Um.. No?" She told him cautiously.

"Then you stay out here." He said, giving her a serious look before moving into the room himself, leaving the door into the hallway open behind him.

Amber moved to the edge of the doorway, attempting to listen closely to what was going on just on the other side of the wall. Ms. McCall hovered at the edge of the room, her arms crossed over the scrub top she was still wearing after having rushed down to the station straight from work.

"Scott. Stiles. This is going to apply to both of you, so listen to me very closely," The Sheriff said in a stern voice, "You will not go within fifty feet of Jackson Whittemore. You will not speak to him.. You will not approach him.. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."

"What about school?" Stiles questioned immediately.

His father sighed, "You both can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty foot distance."

Amber shook her head, unsure how such a thing was possible when they shared so many classes with the other boy in addition to lacrosse.

"Bu- Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time-" Stiles started, words rambling together quickly as Amber clenched her eyes shut and silently willed him to stop talking while he continued, "-And there's only two stalls available, and those two stalls are right next to each other?"

There was a brief silence and Amber brought her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"-I'll just hold it." Stiles said quietly after a few moments.

A few minutes later, Stiles' father was leading him out of the room with a hand fisted in the collar of the boy's sweatshirt, "Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Oh, come on! It was a joke!" Stiles attempted to justify their actions.

Amber had to physically fight the urge to press the palm of her hand against her forehead in vexation.

"It was a joke?" Sheriff Stilinski repeated incredulously.

"Yes!" Stiles agreed quickly, "I didn't think it would be taken this seriously. Dad, humor's very subjective, okay? We're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."

His father's gaze cut to Amber and she stepped forward slowly as if pulled by the weight of his glare.

"You and Stiles have a pretty similar sense of humor," Sheriff Stilinski pointed out, "How would you interpret the situation? You think it was funny?" He questioned sternly.

"I, um.." She bit down on her lip as her eyes bounced between her boyfriend and his father, "Not.. Not wildly funny."

'Traitor' Stiles motioned with his lips silently, shaking his head at her cowardice under his father's attention.

"Uh huh," Sheriff Stilinski looked between them with narrowed eyes for a moment before refocusing on his son, "Well, uh, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

Stiles spluttered, hands waving around wildly, "We filled the tank!"

His father raised his hands with a deep breath as he stepped away, removing himself from the conversation entirely with a shake of his head and leaving the two of them alone in the narrow hall.

"A prank?" Amber hissed, landing a hard punch to her boyfriend's shoulder, "You told them it was a prank?"

"What? Like you had a better excuse lined up?" He questioned while he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm. Amber's face pinched as she tried to quickly come up with something and Stiles nodded at her after a few seconds of silence, "Yeah, that's what I thought, smartass."

Her eyes narrowed at his words, "You are infuriating sometimes, y'know that?" She muttered quietly.

Stiles' lips pulled into a slow grin, his cheek dimpling as his eyes flicked over her frustrated expression. He noted the way she'd petulantly crossed her arms before his gaze trailed back up to her face, "Infuriating in a way that kinda makes you wanna kiss me to shut me up?" He questioned in quiet optimism.

She glared despite the flutter in her stomach at his words, "No."

Stiles took a step closer, his palms dragging softly up and down over her upper arms, "You sure? Because I could keep saying infuriating things if that'll-"

"Move!" Ms. McCall yelled at her son sharply as she shoved him out of the interrogation room and they stepped out into the hall, "It's not just this. Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think you would reach quite this soon." She scolded loudly.

Amber and Stiles both winced as Scott followed closely behind his mother, the family unit walking a few steps past where the couple had been loitering.

"-It's everything on top of it!" Ms. McCall continued, spinning around to face her son with a disappointed look, "The completely bizarre behavior, the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris to let you make up that Chemistry test that you missed-"

"I missed a Chemistry test?" Scott questioned in genuine confusion.

"Really, Scott? Really?" His mother shook her head with a deep sigh, "I- I have to ground you. I'm grounding you. You.. Are grounded."

Amber blinked in surprise. She couldn't remember a single time in their lives when Scott's mom had been angry enough with him to do such a thing. He'd been punished, sure – lots of times – but never to the point of a grounding.

"What about work?" Scott questioned immediately.

"Fine. Other than work." His mother acquiesced, "And no TV." She added as an afterthought.

Scott merely shrugged, "My TV's broken."

Amber shook her head silently and tried to catch his eye, pleading for her best friend to shut up.

"Then no computer." Ms. McCall said easily.

"..I need the computer for school." Scott said slowly.

His mother's face pinched in annoyance, "Then no, uh.." Her gaze drifted over Scott's shoulder, eyes catching on her son's best friends. Her face seemed to light up with an idea, "No Stiles and no Amber."

Amber squeaked in protest, "Wh-"

"No Stiles?" Stiles repeated, voice high.

"No! No Stiles! No Amber!" Ms. McCall repeated with more authority than before, looking back to her son again, "And no more car privileges. Give me your key-"

Scott reared a small step back in response to his mother's words, "But-"

"Give 'em to me!" Ms. McCall snapped.

Scott pulled his keyring from the pocket of his jeans and handed it over weakly. The three teens all watched his mother pulled frantically at the split ring, trying to separate the pieces enough to slip the car key off of the loop with clumsy fingers and working herself up further the more that she struggled.

"Oh, for the love of God." Ms. McCall muttered with a frustrated sniffle.

Scott reached out toward her with caution, "Mom, do you want me to-"

"No." His mother snapped.

"Mom, come on. Just let me- Mom!" Scott pleaded, his hand wrapping around her shaking ones to grip the keys, "Mom."

Ms. McCall sniffled again and Amber took a small step back, her knuckles knocking lightly against Stiles' before he tangled their fingers together wordlessly.

"What is going on with you?" Ms. McCall asked quietly, "Is this about Allison?"

Scott turned his head to shoot his friends a pleading look and Amber instinctively chewed at her lower lip, knowing exactly how badly Scott wanted to come clean about all of the supernatural crap that had suddenly infiltrated their lives.

"Do you really wanna know?" Scott asked his mom slowly.

Stiles began to shake his head vehemently at Scott as Ms. McCall begged her son to explain what his problem was. Scott looked to his friends desperately once more and Amber gave him a small shrug as Stiles continued to silently display his disapproval.

"-Is this about your dad?" Ms. McCall asked weakly.

The question seemed to catch him off guard and Scott was still trying to decide on his next words when his mom continued.

"It is, isn't it?" Her gaze caught on Amber and Stiles still hovering just a few feet away and her posture straightened up with a final sniffle, "Okay, you know what? Um, we'll talk about this at home. I'm- I'm gonna go get the car."

They all watched her go with varying expressions of dismay and Scott waited until the door at the end of the hallway sealed shut with a click before turning to face his friends fully.

"I'm the worst son ever." Scott said with a shattered look.

"Well, I'm not exactly winning any prizes either." Stiles countered easily.

"It's gonna be okay," Amber assured them, her voice coming out sounding less firm than she'd intended, "It- It is gonna be okay, right?" She asked after a moment as she looked between them anxiously.

Stiles wrapped his arm around her neck, their joined hands coming up to rest at her shoulder as he pulled her into his chest, words muffled slightly in her hair, "Yeah. Yeah, everything's gonna be fine."

Upon arriving home, Amber was entirely surprised to find her brother standing in their living room. His shift had only started at the fire station a few hours before, so she wasn't expecting to see him for another eighteen hours, but he was currently dragging his feet across the hardwood restlessly as he paced back and forth across the space.

His attention snapped up at the sound of the front door closing as Amber dropped her keys onto the table in the entryway, his face pinching in a tight frown the moment his gaze found her.

"Jase..?" She asked cautiously as she toed off her shoes, "Is uh, is everything okay?"

"Get in here. And sit." He demanded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the couch.

"Okay.." She said slowly, stepping into the room, "What's-"

"Amber Evangeline Callisto-"

The girl's eyes widened at the use of her full name, something she was nearly certain she hadn't heard in a scolding since their mother had been alive.

"-Sit. Down." Jason finished sternly, the volume of his voice was wholly surprising and Amber's butt landed on the couch immediately.

"I- Um, I'm going to take a wild guess from the fact that you're, y'know, here, and the deeply pissed off look on your face.. And assume that Sheriff Stilinski called you?" She pulled her socked feet up underneath herself on the cushions nervously, eyes focused on her brother's stiff jaw as he clenched it in anger.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as he looked around the room and neither confirmed nor denied her assumtion, "Am I supposed to confiscate your phone and take away your car keys?" He questioned frantically, "Lock you in your bedroom and just.. Homeschool you? Is that what it's gonna take to keep your ass out of trouble, or what?"

She balked, "I- I'm not even in trouble! Jackson only filed for restraining orders against-"

"If you honestly think that I am gonna believe you didn't have anything to do with this so-called 'joke' your knucklehead best friends pulled-" He took an angry breath that sounded loudly through his nose, "Do you think that I'm stupid? Or just insanely fucking unobservant?"

"Well, I -"

"Amber, I am fucking trying here, okay?" His voice cracked and Amber felt a little like her heart might have cracked too as she watched her brother's internal struggle, "I feel like I'm just watching you kids spiral out of control and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it-"

"You don't- You're not doing anything wrong-"

"Well clearly I am!" He yelled suddenly. His own shout seemed to catch him off guard and he sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her with a sigh, "I- I don't know what I'm doing. It's been four years and I still feel like I'm fucking drowning sometimes, trying to be your parent and your brother at the same time."

"I'm sorry." She spoke quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears as her eyes welled.

"I don't want you to apologize. I want you to stop getting into trouble.. To stop showing up at all of these crime scenes, and inserting yourself into murder investigations, and-"

"I- I don't know what to say." She admitted quietly as a few tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.

Even she were to try and explain, Amber didn't know where she could possibly start.

She could start with Derek; how he'd come back into town and started showing up everywhere all suspicious-like before revealing that he was a werewolf and that Scott was no longer her sweet best friend, but instead, a genuine danger to be around. She could tell him about Peter; explain that he hadn't been as weak and incapacitated as everyone had initially thought and that, really, this whole thing had all started with him. She could mention how Allison's family played into it all; the heinous things her aunt had done before her demise and all of the things her father and grandfather were still a part of now. She could tell her brother about all of the new teenage werewolves running around town and the murderous rampage her classmate had unknowingly undertaken and okay, yes, she'd helped kidnap him but they'd had no other choice because Jackson was seriously dangerous and he didn't even know what he was doing-

Amber couldn't find it in her to voice any of those things, however. Instead, she gnawed on her lower lip and sniffled quietly as she guiltily avoided her brother's gaze, settling back into the couch with the acceptance that the evening was only destined to get more difficult.

"Did Lydia finish translating the entry about the kanima?" A hushed voice questioned from only a few inches behind Amber, causing the girl to flinch in surprise.

"Jesus," Amber exclaimed as she spun around, locker door slamming shut when her shoulder collided with the cool metal, "A bell. You need a bell."

Allison rolled her eyes with a fond smile and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well? Did she?"

With a nod of her head, Amber pulled a crisp, brand new composition notebook from her bag and held it out toward the other girl.

"She did. I went over first thing this morning to get it. She's, uh, pretty annoyed with us, but she did it."

Allison studied the words on the pages with determined focus for a few moments before pulling a tablet from her own bag and motioning for Amber to hold the journal for her. Amber dutifully held her arms out to display the pages, flipping through them slowly as Allison photographed the information to create a digital copy.

"Have you shown Scott or Stiles yet?" Allison asked as she finished.

Amber slapped the book shut and slipped it back into her bookbag with a shake of her head, "I was on my way now. They're waiting in the library."

"I'll come with you." Allison said easily, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag and moving in the direction of the library while still studying the photographs she'd taken of the notebook pages.

As they pushed through the double-doors, Amber's eyes peered through the spaces between bookshelves, flicking over the students spread out at tables trying to finish up last minute assignments before the start of morning classes.

She toyed with her lower lip between her teeth as she searched for her best friends and when she finally spotted them, Scott and Stiles were tucked at the back of one of the stacks having a hushed conversation. As she approached, hand absentmindedly dragging over her boyfriend's shoulder and up to his neck, her fingertips dug into his skin softly as she stepped up beside them.

Her backpack hit the ground at the base of the bookshelf and their attention turned to her, Stiles' eyebrows raising a fraction as he took her in for the first time that morning.

"Hello," He greeted with emphasis, reaching out until the backs of his fingers could skim over the soft material of her sundress, "You're looking spring-y."

He pinched the hem between his thumb and forefinger, his knuckles brushing against the smooth skin of her bare thigh as he idly rubbed at the fabric.

"Thanks," She said somewhat breathlessly. Her own hand dropped to wrap lightly around his wrist in warning and she waited until he let the skirt fall back down against her legs before she continued, "I, uh, I'm trying to manifest warmer weather or something."

His lips pulled into a small smile and she felt slightly overwhelmed by the butterflies that bloomed in her stomach.

"Well, you look really beautiful." He told her softly.

"Can you guys be disgusting later?" Scott interjected in clear impatience.

The couple flinched as they were torn from the romance-heady bubble they'd somehow managed to slip into.

Amber was quick to recover and she laced her fingers with Stiles as her eyes narrowed in Scott's direction, "You're just jealous because of the whole Romeo and Juliet thing that means you can't flirt with your girlfriend unless it's in a dark creepy corridor or, like, a janitor's closet-"

"Ha," Stiles said in amusement, seconding her assessment, "What she said. The green monster's not a great look on you, buddy-"

A soft throat clearing from the other side of the bookshelf caught Amber's attention and she spotted Allison peering through a gap from the next aisle over.

"Lydia's translations.." Allison prompted gently as she pulled a book from the shelf and pretended to look at it in interest.

"Right, yeah," Amber nodded, "So Lydia gave me her translations this morning. She was up pretty late last night writing it all down for me-"

"Apparently she's not thrilled about still being left in the dark." Allison supplied quietly, sliding her tablet through the gap in books so that Scott and Stiles could peer down at the photographs she'd taken of the translated pages.

"Oh, yeah," Scott realized as his gaze found Amber, "What'd you tell her?"

Amber winced, rolling her shoulders and tightening her fingers around Stiles' hand, "Um, I'm only about thirty percent confident she bought it.. But I, uh- I told her we were a part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

Stiles perked up, "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." He said quietly, the words fanning out over his girlfriend's neck as he peered down at the tablet.

A breathy laugh slipped from her lips and she knocked her hip against his lightly, "Yeah, I know. I helped you figure out that part with the evil goblins, remember?"

"They were actually gnomes." Stiles corrected immediately.

Scott was shaking head at his friends in clear exasperation, "Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling Jackson?" He questioned in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

"Not from what I read." Allison frowned, swapping the book in her hands for another as she tried to hide the fact that she was conversing with them.

"But Stiles was right about the murderers." Amber revealed.

"Yes!" He cheered excitedly, dropping his girlfriend's hand to punch the air at the small victory.

Scott and Allison both narrowed their eyes at him for his slightly too loud reaction and his hands slowly lowered under the weight of their glare. Amber shuffled closer as he deflated and his arm slipped beneath her cardigan to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his side as she continued to share the information she'd recently obtained.

"The bestiary calls the kanima a 'weapon of vengeance'," She recited quietly, "There's a story in there about this South American priest who used the kanima to execute murderers in his village-"

"Alright, see?" Stiles interrupted, "That's not so bad."

Amber leaned more heavily against him with a grimace, "-Until their bond grew so strong that it eventually just killed whoever he wanted it to. Murderer or not." She finished.

"All bad," Stiles backtracked, "All very, very bad."

"Thing is, though-" Amber continued quietly, dragging her finger lightly over a sentence displayed on the tablet, "The kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf. But, it can't be until-"

"'Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.'" Scott read aloud.

"Okay, if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." Stiles said with a roll of his eyes.

Amber sighed, "Yeah, no shit. The guy's basically unresolved anger and toxic masculinity all wrapped up in a stupidly handsome bow-"

"Euck, handsome?" Stiles repeated with a displeased frown.

"Oh, be quiet," She scolded him, turning in his grip to brush her lips lightly over the corner of his mouth, "You're the most handsome." She whispered quietly against his cheek.

With a satisfied huff, Stiles slid his arm up around her shoulders to tug her back against his chest, releasing his exhale into the loose waves of her hair to hide his grin.

"What if it has to do with Jackson's parents?" Allison pondered, "He's adopted, right? So maybe its something to do with his real parents."

Scott nodded in agreement, "Does anybody actually know what happened to them?" He questioned, eyes flicking to Amber curiously as he spoke.

"I mean.. I know he never really knew them. He was adopted as a baby. Like, really young, I'm pretty sure-" She said slowly, face pinched up in thought, "But, I- Lydia might know more."

"Great," Stiles nodded, "You guys talk to Lydia and Scott and I'll talk to Jackson-"

"Nope. Not gonna work." Amber interrupted with a shake of her head. "Restraining order." She reminded him.

He sighed in annoyance, "God, fine. Then what-"

"During free period, you go talk to Lydia," She told Stiles, "Allison and I will team up to talk to Jackson. And Scott-" The boy in question looked at her with wide eyes, ready for whatever job his best friend was about to dole out, "Scott's gonna go and ace his Chem make-up test."

He made a face like he was going to argue but his girlfriend cut in quickly.

"Scott, she's right." Allison said softly, reaching through the gap in the bookshelf to take Scott's hand.

He sighed in reluctance, "If he does anything, you both run the other way." He said seriously, looking back and forth between the two girls.

"We can take care of ourselves." Allison whispered with a frown.

"I'm serious," Scott whispered, "If either one of you gets hurt while I'm taking some stupid test, someone's gonna need to take care of me," His jaw clenched, hand tightening around Allison's as his eyes continued to bounce between them, "If he does anything-"

Amber scoffed, "Like-?"

"Anything.. Weird. Bizarre. Anything-"

"Anything evil." Stiles interrupted finally, arm tightening around his girlfriend.

"We'll be fine," Amber told both boys, "This is serious, okay? If either of you guys get in trouble for breaking the restraining order, it could mean serious, like, legal consequences. And, Scott, You know you need to retake this test to bring your grade up." She said firmly.

Scott groaned but nodded, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders as they all slowly broke away from one another and filed out of the library.

"We, uh.. We're totally sure it's safe for you and Allison to be talking to Jackson alone?" Stiles worried privately as they stopped in front of his locker.

"We'll be fine," She assured him in a soft voice, "And besides, it's kind of our only option right now-"

"Yeah. Because those are reassuring words." Stiles muttered sarcastically, yanking his locker open to grab his books for English.

"Okay, worry wort. I'm pretty sure we've established that he doesn't actually want to kill any of us," She reminded him as he slammed the metal door shut again, "I mean, if he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead like three times over at this point, right?"

His face scrunched in clear reluctance to agree with her, "Yeah, I guess."

She reached out to cup the side of his face, her thumb skimming over the tiny constellation of moles that created a path toward his mouth. The tip of her finger had barely brushed the corner of his lips when Stiles leaned in to press them to her own in a quick kiss.

As they finally turned to head in the direction of the English classroom, they only managed to get a few steps from Stiles' locker before a familiar voice was calling out loudly behind them.

"Stilinski! Amber! Wait, I- Hold up!"

They both turned as there was a loud crash. Ben Davis slammed his shoulder into the lockers beside them in what both looked and sounded like a painful collision. He rubbed at his shoulder with a frown as he righted himself and looked between Amber and Stiles wide-eyed.

"Davis," Stiles greeted with a wince, "Listen, if this is about the ball that almost hit you in the junk this morning at practice, you should know that I haven't perfected my backhand and I swear it was-"

Ben shook his head in surprise, "What? No. Stilinski, you're fine." He assured the other boy before turning his attention toward Amber, "I actually, really need to talk to you, if that's cool-"

She frowned at the urgency in his voice and began to step forward when Stiles pulled her back with a hand fisted in her cardigan.

"And what exactly do you need to talk to my girlfriend about?" Stiles questioned suspiciously.

"I, uh-" Ben's gaze flicked between them nervously, "Just.. A thing?"

Amber held up a finger in a signal for Ben to give her a moment and spun around to face Stiles, stepping close to give them more privacy as she spoke, "Stiles. Babe, I'll catch up with you in a few?" She whispered in question.

His eyes flicked between her and the spot over her shoulder where Ben was standing behind her and a small noise of distress slipped past her boyfriend's lips.

"But he-" When Amber brought a hand up to rest on his shoulder, he continued in a whisper of his own, "I could stay.. Just as backup, y'know. In case you need me. In case he tries to make a move or-"

Ben's snort of laughter from behind her let them know that he'd heard the hushed comment.

"Dude, when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about between me and Amber-" Ben started in amusement, "I am very, like, keenly aware of how into you she is. I know we went on a date but I mean, she literally said-"

Amber could tell that he was only a second away from bringing up her embarrassing slip of tongue at the end of their tragic date the month before and she turned her head to shoot him a warning glare, causing Ben's words to cut off sharply. When she deemed it safe, she turned back to Stiles again.

"You're sweet and it is stupidly cute, but you really don't need to worry about Ben, alright?" She said even more quietly.

Stiles' lips pulled up reluctantly, "Yeah, okay."

She couldn't hold back a grin, endlessly endeared by his protectiveness. She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips before giving him a pat on his cheek, "Okay, cool. So I'll catch up with you later then."

Stiles pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb to tip her head back up again and she went easily. Their lips met in another kiss, this one lingering for a moment before she pushed him away with a flustered laugh.

"Alright, I'm going!" Stiles said, raising his hands in surrender as he turned to leave.

When she turned to face Ben again, she was still sporting a faint blush and giddy smile that wouldn't seem to fade.

"So, what's up? What's the gossip?" She joked, hoping to lighten the mood when she noticed the stressed expression on his face once again.

"I wanted to talk to you about Matt." He said in a hushed voice.

"Daehler?" She asked curiously, frowning when he nodded, "What about him?"

Ben wiped his hands on his jeans as if his palms were sweaty and he looked around them cautiously before speaking, "I, uh.. I saw some pictures on his camera that were kinda.. Um. Well, they were of you-"

"Oh!" She relaxed, "That's what you're all worked up about? It's fine. I know about the pictures."

Ben blinked, faltering for a moment, "You.. You know about the pictures?" He repeated slowly.

"Yeah," She waved off, "He's good with a camera.. It's art — No big deal. It's kinda flattering, honestly, the way he knows how to frame his pictures just right? It's like I'm a model or something except, y'know, all his photos are candid."

"So.." Ben drew out the word, eyes squinting in disbelief, "You know he's been taking these.. Candid pictures, and you're.. Cool with it?" He asked slowly.

She reached out to pat Ben on his broad shoulder with a laugh, "Yes. I'm totally cool with it. He was worried I would think it was creepy, but like I said, it's art. I can appreciate that, y'know? I was actually thinking that if he gets another really good one, I might ask for a copy? Get it printed out and maybe I could frame it and give it to Stiles as a part of his birthday present or something.. That might be cool.." She shook her head as she began to get lost in her thoughts, laughing again quietly, "Anyway, my point is, don't worry about it."

Ben's previously tense shoulders seemed to slump in relief, "I- Okay, then. I just- My bad, I guess." He blew out a long breath through his lips and shrugged awkwardly.

"I seriously appreciate your concern, though," She said honestly, "It was really cool of you to come to me."

He nodded with a serious look, "Yeah, of course. I'm just glad I came to you first instead of, like, immediately confronting Matt and giving him shit about it-"

"Oh, god, yeah!" She nodded in realization.

Ben shook his head, taking a small step back, "Right. So, y'know.. See ya later-"

She waved and bid him goodbye, watching him go with a small smile, grateful that things had been cleared up.

When free period rolled around, Amber and Allison followed as stealthily as they could manage behind Jackson, lurking in the nonexistent shadows as they waited for the right moment to corner him. They kept a safe distance as he walked into the east wing of the school, heading toward the locker rooms and the gymnasium, on his way to get more lacrosse in even after the team's morning practice.

As they entered the more deserted area of the school, devoid of voices and the laughter that had drowned out their steps before, Allison slipped her heels off to quiet her footfalls beside Amber, opting to hold them in her hand instead.

The two girls loitered as he practiced shooting on goal with Danny. When they finally headed back inside, the girls peeked around a corner to watch Jackson enter the boy's locker room as Danny headed in the opposite direction down the hall.

Amber reached for the door handle as they got to the already closed locker room door, but both girls reeled back in shock and a touch of fear when it swung open from the other side just as Amber's fingers brushed the metal.

"You just scared the hell out of me!" Matt Daehler laughed as he exited the locker room while Amber tried to calm her now-racing heart.

"Sorry!" She apologized with a breathless laugh, "Holy shit. I, uh- We we're just-"

"-Nothing," Allison interrupted weakly, "We were just, um, nothing.."

Matt blinked at them in confusion and shook his head, gaze dropping down to the shoes still clutched between Allison's fingers, "Uh, nice heels." He commented with a curious eyebrow raise.

"Oh!" Allison realized, having forgotten she was holding the footwear at all, "Yeah, uh-"

"Her feet were hurting." Amber supplied quickly.

Matt shrugged with a grin, "Same reason I never wear mine." He agreed jokingly.

Amber laughed in surprised amusement and Matt's smile seemed to brighten at the sound.

"Uh, hey.. Did you hear about the underground show?" He asked, eyes focused solely on Amber as he fiddled with the strap of the backpack over his shoulder, "Apparently they've got some big names spinning."

"Spinning-?" Amber repeated the word in confusion.

"Yeah, y'know.. DJ's." Matt clarified.

The pieces clicked together slowly in Amber's mind, "Oh, like a.. Rave?"

Matt scoffed with a smile, "Is it still a rave if you don't roll?" He questioned, "I just call it a party but- Hey! I've got a friend who can hook us up with tickets, if you're down. Y-you want me to get you one?" He asked her hopefully.

"Oh, um-" She frowned, "I don't- I mean, y'know Stiles and I are together-"

"Oh sure, yeah," Matt interrupted, "No, I know, but.. We could still go together as friends, right?"

Amber hesitated, "I mean, yeah, but- Parties like that aren't really my-"

"It'd be really fun, I swear." He promised with a hopeful smile.

Allison nudged at Amber's shoulder anxiously with a nod toward the locker room door to remind Amber of the task at hand.

"I, um- Just as friends?" Amber repeated quickly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just friends," Matt agreed, "I, uh, I could get both of you a ticket?" He suggested, gaze finally drifting over to Allison.

"Uh, fine, yeah," Amber agreed finally, her eyes flicking anxiously toward the locker room, "Sure."

"Cool! Um, it's Friday so I'll get the tickets and-" Matt stepped around them to begin his retreat down the hallway toward the main part of the building, "-Looking forward to it."

As he disappeared around a corner, Amber locked eyes with Allison and saw the other girl was frowning, "That kinda sounded like a date." Allison said quietly.

Amber scoffed, "Which part, exactly? The part where we talked about how I have a boyfriend, the part where we both agreed to go just as friends, or the part where he offered to get you a ticket too?"

Allison's lips were parted with a retort at the ready when there was a sudden ragged coughing from inside the locker room as if Jackson were choking.

"Shit-! Go get Scott," Amber told Allison with wide eyes. The other girl looked like she wanted to fight her on it and Amber shook her head as Jackson's choked noises grew more pained, "Alli, come on. He could be either hurt or going full kanima in there- I'm serious. Jackson won't hurt me but you need to go and get Scott. He's more attuned to you anyway, he'll probably hear you coming before you even get out of the stairwell."

Allison scrunched her face, "Fine. Just.. Be careful." She huffed before turning to run down the hallway.

Amber dropped her unzipped backpack to the ground carelessly, throwing the locker room door open with a bang as she stumbled through the doorway. She listened for sounds of distress, but the noises that Jackson had been making only moments before were gone, now replaced with the quiet sound of running water from the showers at the far side of the room.

"Jackson?" She called out cautiously, slightly worried for the boy as she moved through the rows of lockers in search, "Jackson?"

"In here." Jackson's voice supplied casually from the direction of the showers.

Amber's feet carried her that much faster, converse slapping against the tiles as she headed toward his voice. As she rounded the lockers and came to a stop in the entryway of the showers, she stumbled over her feet in surprise, quickly spinning away at the sight of Jackson's very naked body beneath the spray, staring in her direction with a blank, unaffected gaze.

Amber was staring at the row of lockers across from her with wide eyes as she leaned against the tile wall outside of the showers.

"Something wrong?" He questioned from behind her.

"I- Shit, Jackson!" She exclaimed in disbelief, "A little bit of warning when your dick is out, maybe?"

There was a high-pitched creak as he turned the knob to cut off the flow of hot water and Amber tried desperately to erase the image of Jackson's privates from her brain.

"You're the one who walked into the boy's locker room." He pointed out blankly.

"Wh- I thought I heard you-" She began to defend automatically, thinking back on the horrifying choking noises she'd heard from the hallway, "I mean, I thou- Whatever. Nevermind." She shook her head.

"Did you want to talk about something?" He questioned, his voice sounding from directly behind her now, prompting her to flinch in surprise at his close proximity.

"I- Yeah, but we can-" She huffed out a disbelieving breath as she began to step past him, "We can talk later-"

"No-" Jackson's arm shot out in front of her, his palm pressing against the tile as he caged her back against the tiled wall outside of the showers. Amber immediately forced her eyes upward to avert them from his still-naked body as it dripped with water. She was staring up at the ceiling while he quickly continued, "-Let's talk now."

Her gaze fell to his and she watched Jackson's jaw clench as he glared at her with an especially dark look. She found her heart stuttering slightly in her chest at the coldness behind his eyes.

She licked her lips in thought, "You know? I, uh- I actually should probably start heading to my next class-"

"Oh, no, no-" His face pulled into an irritated snarl and he immediately blocked her attempt to step around him, "No, you don't. You have perfect grades. You can skip one class."

She swallowed audibly at the sudden closeness of the boy's wet body to her own, their torsos practically brushing against one another. A small flash of fear filled her and she felt suddenly stupid for being so blinded by the noises that had sent her barreling into the locker room worried for Jackson's well-being and unafraid of the kanima.

The way Jackson was acting now – the way he was looking at her – It had her feeling suddenly afraid of him for reasons entirely unrelated to the kanima-fueled dangers that she'd mentally prepared herself for earlier in the day.

His gaze fell to her sternum and his lips pulled into a smirk before his eyes returned to hers, "You okay?" He asked condescendingly, "Your heart's beating like crazy."

"I'm fine." She said in a rush as she moved past him, her eyes glued to the tense lines of his body as she began to back away slowly.

"I thought you wanted to talk?" Jackson questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows and matching her steps.

"I, uh, ch- Changed my mind." She stumbled as she spoke when she backed into one of the wooden changing benches, arms flailing for a moment as she caught her balance.

"You sure? Because you look a little stressed-" His face contorted into anger again and Amber took a shaky breath, still backing away as he continued, "Is it Stilinski? Things falling apart between you two already?"

She shook her head slightly, lips parting to speak but cut off before she could say anything.

"-Can't say it would surprise me. It's not like you two are gonna last," Jackson scoffed meanly, "You know that one day, he and Scott are gonna decide they don't need a little cunt like you always dragging them down. I mean, what teenage guy honestly wants a chick for a best friend, huh? Now that Stilinski's gotten into your pants, it's really only a matter of time."

His words cut deeper than they probably should have, and she was surprised to find her back thumping blindly against the far wall of the locker room. Amber's eyes went wide when she realized she'd unintentionally caged herself again, Jackson's naked frame towering over her as he stepped close enough that patches of her dress darkened with the water from his still dripping body.

"You're being a dick." She told him.

Jackson scoffed cruelly, "I'm being honest. And if you don't realize that then you gotta be the stupidest bitch in this town. Well, other than Scott and Stiles because they seem to be pretty stupid bitches themselves-"

"Just stop." Amber demanded with a clenched jaw, gaze drifting toward the door to the locker room as she contemplated whether or not she could make it into the hallway before he caught up to her – she wasn't entirely confident that the odds weighed in her favor.

"What are you gonna do, Amber?!" Jackson shouted, his anger seeming to grow as he leaned even closer, "When your stupid bitch of a best friend- When Scott turns on you! What are you gonna do!"

His fists slammed into the wall on either side of her head and she couldn't hold back a quiet whimper as she flinched in fear, her wide eyes glued to the blind rage that had overtaken his face.

"They almost killed Lydia!" He spit the words in her face in sharp reminder, "Who do you think's gonna be next! Hm? Not you, oh no- Because you're in love with Stiles, and Scott's your best friend and he'd never let you get hurt-?" He shook his head condescendingly. His face was flooded with anger and his nose nearly brushed against hers as he continued to tear into her, "Is that what you tell yourself? Huh? If that's what you tell yourself then you're already dead."

One of Jackson's hands left the wall behind her, sharp claws now on display. He stroked them delicately down the length of Amber's cheek before pausing at the edge of her jawline, the sharp points poking at the skin of her throat just light enough that, while they didn't cut through her flesh, the threat was evident. Jackson's lips pulled back in another terrifying snarl and Amber found her heart racing anxiously at the combined feeling of the tips of his claws against her cheek and his naked body against her.

"Tell me, if your big bad werewolf of a best friend really cared, would he really let you walk around without any way to protect yourself?" Jackson's hand drifted, claws lightly skimming farther down the length of her throat as he spoke.

"I, um," She licked her lips as her body trembled anxiously, trying to work up the nerve to do what she needed to, "I wouldn't say I'm totally helpless-"

She threw her arms up and out to shove his hands away from her, thrusting her leg up sharply in the same moment to slam her knee into his naked groin. When he stumbled back half a step in surprise, she moved to rush past him, but she was yanked back roughly by her arm before she could make it more than a step away. Her cardigan tore from her shoulder as he spun her back around and suddenly they were falling through the air. Her back slammed down onto the ground and a pained grunt slipped past her lips as Jackson's weight landed heavily on top of her.

The moment they collided and his naked body pinned her to the floor, Jackson's eyes were widening, lips parted in surprise as if he'd suddenly been broken from a trance.

"Amber?" He questioned in panicked confusion as he scrambled to his feet frantically, "What are you doing here?"

The girl's heart was sill pounding in her chest too heavily for her to formulate a response. Her lips parted in a loss for words as she shuffled along the floor to put space between them. Her back hit the wall and the cold tile pressed against her bare shoulder where her sweater and the thin strap of her dress were still askew, the fabric dangling loosely down her arm. She watched as Jackson reached for a discarded pair of athletic shorts on the changing bench and moved to cover himself.

The locker room door swung open before she could respond and her wide eyes cut across the room to see Scott standing in the doorway, his gaze flicking back and forth between where she was on the floor, looking disheveled and afraid, and where Jackson was still pulling a pair of shorts over his naked legs with frantic movements.

"I- I'm fine," She assured her best friend quickly, "I'm fi-"

Her words didn't seem to quell the way that Scott's face morphed into one of blind fury. It was only then that Amber realized exactly how bad the scene in front of him appeared.

Without a moment of hesitation, Scott was storming toward Jackson furiously and Amber clumsily climbed to her feet as she watched her best friend shove Jackson back through the air with enough force that a row of lockers caved when the boy's body slammed into them.

"No, Scott! Scott, stop! I'm fine!" She repeated quickly.

Jackson righted himself with a renewed rage, "I. Have. A. Restraining order!"

"Trust me, I restrained myself." Scott retorted angrily.

In a blink, Jackson was tackling Scott and Amber watched in distress as they began to throw one another around the locker room with superhuman strength. They moved toward the showers at the back of the room and she heard an unmistakable crack as the tiles shattered from the force of their brawl.

Jackson stepped back into view, breathing heavily and scowling at Amber where she was still standing wide eyed at the front of the room, but before he could make it more than a few steps toward her, Scott was launching himself out of the showers and sending him hurtling back toward the weight benches.

"You guys, seriously! Stop!" Amber pleaded as she watched Jackson grab a forty-five pound weight, his fingers wrapping around the plate and launching it in Scott's direction as if it weighed nothing at all.

Amber squeaked as her hands came up to cover her mouth, but Scott caught the weight before it could crash into his chest.

He didn't get a moment to recover. Jackson rushed forward to kick him back into the wall, tiles cracking beneath Scott's weight only seconds before he was thrown into the row of sinks along the wall.

The porcelain shattered with a loud crash, water spraying from the burst pipes as the boys continued to throw one another back and forth across the room.

"Guys!" She tried again, voice hitching slightly. Her back hit the wall when they moved closer as she tried to stay away from the action, "Guys, stop!"

As if she hadn't spoken at all, the two continued to shove and kick at each other and Amber's heart pounded anxiously in her chest with each minute that passed, growing more and more worried that one of them might truly get hurt. Her hands scrambled as she patted herself down in search of her cell phone, a disbelieving whine leaving her lips when she realized it was in her backpack in the hallway due to the lack of pockets in her attire.

Jackson sent a final hard kick to Scott's chest and Amber watched her friend slam against the locker room door with a loud crash, the door tearing from its hinges as Scott fell back on top of it and into the hallway.

Amber rushed behind Jackson when he immediately stormed out of the room after Scott, the girl finding Erica already restraining Jackson and pulling him off of Scott. Stiles was attempting to hold Scott back while he tried to charge forward again and Amber pushed her hands against Scott's chest as Stiles wrapped his arms around him.

"Scott!" She pleaded, "Seriously, Scott, I-"

"What the hell is going on!"

Amber's eyes pinched shut in disbelief of their luck as she heard Mr. Harris yelling down the hallway, his footfalls growing louder as he stormed toward them.

"Hey!" The teacher shouted when he saw the boys still fighting against the students that were attempting to keep them apart, "Enough!"

Jackson and Scott seemed to deflate at the sound of their Chemistry teacher's angry yelling, both boys slumping against the arms holding them back as they finally stopped fighting.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" Mr. Harris yelled, looking between the group of teens with a scowl, "Mr. McCall? Care to explain yourself?" He questioned sharply before his eyes drifted to the two teens who had released him but were still standing beside their friend, "Callisto? Stilinski?"

Amber swallowed loudly and looked around, but the entire group remained silent for a long moment.

"..You dropped this." Matt's voice cut in awkwardly, stepping from behind Mr. Harris and handing Amber's unzipped backpack to her.

Her notebook of bestiary translations was laying at the top of her books in a way that she hadn't quite remembered it being when she'd stuffed it into her bag earlier. As she took her backpack from him, she winced at the water dripping from the fabric due to the leak that had flowed out of the locker room and into the hallway.

"You, and you," Mr. Harris pointed between Jackson and Scott before shaking his head and letting his eyes rake across the group again, his gaze even drifting to where Matt was hovering behind him for a moment, "Actually.. All of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

They all slumped at the announcement of their punishment, Jackson shooting them a dark glare before storming off behind their teacher and Matt as they retreated. The moment that the hallway had cleared out, Scott was rounding on Amber with a furious glare.

"What the heck were you thinking?!" He snapped.

She flinched underneath his anger suddenly directed at her and took a small step back from him, "Wh-"

"Why would you guys split up?" He asked loudly, barely glancing at his girlfriend before he was glaring at Amber again, "That was the stupidest, most reckless-"

"Hey, Scott.." Stiles interrupted Scott's enraged scolding to move between them, nudging Scott back a step, "Take it down a notch, man."

"You didn't see the way-" Scott shook his head, his anger seeming to fade suddenly into concern in the time it took him to inhale and exhale. He moved forward again, "I- Amber, are you alright?"

"I- I'm fine, Scott," She promised, taking Stiles' hand gratefully when his fingers nudged against hers in offering, "I told you-"

Scott's chest heaved as he took a breath to keep calm, "If he.. I swear to god I'm gonna kill him-"

"Scott, stop." Amber interrupted, "It seriously wasn't what it looked like, okay? He didn't-"

"What did it look like?" Stiles questioned in confusion, he and Allison both slightly lost in the conversation.

Scott let out another sharp breath, "It looked like Jackson was-"

"I know what it looked like!" Amber cut him off again frantically, not wanting to hear the words, "Scott he was just yelling at me, okay? He was being an asshole but he wasn't going to- He-" She took a shaky breath, "He wasn't going to do anything. Not what you're thinking. He wasn't going to do.. that."

"Do what?"

Allison and Stiles voiced the words at the same time, the former still sounding confused and the latter simply exasperated at being left out.

Scott didn't speak, but he held eye contact with Amber for a long moment as if he were trying to search her face for any trace of a lie, even after having listened to the way her heartbeat remained steady while she'd spoken the words. He nodded slowly in indication that he believed her, his shoulders slumping from their rigid stance. Amber took a small step forward to pull him into a one armed hug, her other hand still extended behind her with Stiles' fingers trapped in her grip.

"I'm okay," She murmured quietly into his ear, "But regardless, I'm glad you came when you did," She said slightly louder as she released him and stepped back, "Did- Did you do okay on your makeup test? Did me and Stiles' flash cards help?"

There was a pause before he responded and she frowned at his moment of hesitation.

"I, uh, yeah. Totally. They definitely helped!" Scott said after a moment with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Amber groaned, her head rolling back on her shoulders, "You weren't finished and you bombed it to get down here and help me, didn't you?"

Scott winced, "Yeah."

Amber sighed, her grip tightening around Stiles' hand as she shook her head to clear away negative thoughts, "It's fine, it's totally fine! Y'know why? We- New game plan! Stiles and I will help you with some extra credit work instead and your grade will just-" She pulled at Stiles' wrist as she slapped her free palm against their joined hands, imitating something shooting up into the air, "We can still fix this."

At the end of the day, Amber was surprised by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind, warmth filling her chest as the scent of Stiles' cologne washed over her. His mouth pressed softly against the side of her neck and Amber's breath stuttered at the feeling. She abandoned the book she'd been pulling from her locker to reach back toward him, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as she tipped her head at an awkward angle to catch his lips with her own.

"Mm, hello." She greeted quietly against his mouth.

"Hi," Stiles grinned, his arms tightening around her ribs as she turned back to collect her World History textbook, "You ready for detention?"

"As ready as one can be for punishment in the form of forced labor." She zipped up her backpack and closed her locker as she turned in her boyfriend's arms. Her back hit the lockers softly as Stiles leaned into her space to press his lips against hers again in a quick kiss.

"We're going to reshelve a couple books. It's not exactly punitive labor." He commented in amusement, prying her backpack from her fingers and releasing her so that he could drape the strap over his shoulder atop his own bag.

She took his hand in hers and rolled her eyes, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're supposed to agree with your girlfriend no matter what? Even when you think she's wrong or being ridiculous or batshit crazy?"

"I dunno, I think that might be a myth.." Stiles teased with a barely concealed grin as they headed toward the library.

"I'm just saying.. Maybe you should look into it-" She couldn't fight the smile that pulled at her own lips as his thumb ran softly back and forth along the back of her hand. She changed the subject with a quiet huff, "D'you think Erica really kept all the kanima stuff about Jackson a secret after you talked to her earlier? That she didn't tell Derek?"

Stiles sighed, "I freakin' hope so. You guys only just convinced me that we shouldn't kill him, it'd be a real bummer now if Derek just ripped his throat out anyway."

She winced, "That's.. Graphic."

"Sorry," Stiles made a face, "But, I mean- Wouldn't be the first time, would it? The guy didn't even hesitate when it was his own uncle-"

"That's a little different, I think-" She defended weakly, "I mean, his uncle was a psychopath whereas Jackson's technically one of Derek's Betas. Or, y'know, he would be if he didn't have so much repressed shit-"

"You think Derek being the one to give him the bite would really make him think twice?" Stiles questioned, pulling open the library doors and letting Amber step through first.

She shrugged, "I wouldn't necessarily count on it, but there's no harm in hoping, right?"

She dropped into a chair across the table from where Scott was already sitting and Stiles was quick to claim the one beside her.

"Oh, um, we can't be in detention together," Jackson told Mr. Harris as he sat down in the seat behind Amber, "I have a restraining order against these tools."

"All of these tools?" Their teacher asked with an unimpressed look, eyes flicking over their table.

"No, just us tools." Stiles supplied with a sigh, pointing between himself and Scott.

"Fine. Jackson, sit there," Mr. Harris said with an eye roll, gesturing to the empty seat at the table where Matt and Allison were sitting on the other side of the room before focusing back on the other teens as Erica sat down at an unoccupied table behind the teacher, "You two keep your distance from him."

Their teacher's attention left them to focus elsewhere and Scott took the opportunity to lean across the table, his face pinched tight in anger, "I'm gonna kill him." He stated, eyes flicking over to Jackson before refocusing on his best friends.

"No, you're not." Amber whispered.

"You're gonna find out who's controlling him." Stiles reminded him.

"-And then you're gonna help save him." Amber finished seriously.

"No," Scott whispered with a determined look, attention drifting to Stiles, "You were right. Let's kill him."

"He was not right," Amber whispered sharply, "You two are killing me. Get it together."

"Hey, I'm on your side now, remember?" Stiles defended, reaching out to pat her leg beneath the table as he spoke.

Amber gripped his hand over her bare thigh and squeezed it with a grateful nod.

"Hey, what if it's Matt?" Stiles pondered aloud after a few minutes, his eyes focussed on the boy sitting across the room beside Allison, "-I mean this whole thing comes back to the video, right? It was his camera-"

Scott shook his head, "Danny said that Matt was the one that found the two hours of footage that was missing-"

"Exactly!" Stiles whispered, raising his eyebrows as he continued to make his point, "He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."

Amber and Scott let their gazes drift across the room to watch the boy in question as he crunched on a chip from the snack bag he'd been picking at since the start of detention.

"..So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your Jeep?" Scott deduced in confusion.

"Yes!" Stiles hissed.

"Why would he do that?" Amber questioned incredulously.

"Because.. He's evil." Stiles supplied slowly.

She peered across the room again and watched as Matt shook his bag of chips across the table at Jackson in offering.

"Yeah, he looks like a real criminal mastermind." Amber whispered sarcastically.

"You just don't like him." Scott told Stiles with a shake of his head.

"The guy bugs me, I dunno what it is," Stiles agreed quietly, "Just.. Look at his face."

Amber pulled her hand from Stiles' with a wince and bit down on her lip, "Does that mean now is a bad time to mention that he asked me to go to that rave concert thing with him on Friday-"

Stiles shot her a look of disbelief, eye twitching as he searched for words, "He what?"

"I mean, as friends, obviously-" She added, feeling slightly guilty from the look on her boyfriend's face.

"But you said no, right?" Stiles whispered, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to scowl at Matt before returning to her face.

She scrunched her nose, "Not exactly."

Scott listened in on their interaction silently, eyes bouncing between his best friends as if he were watching a tennis match while they went back and forth.

"Well what exactly did you say, then?" Stiles followed up.

"..Yes?"

"What!" Stiles said a little too loudly, shrinking back as everyone looked over at him and repeating himself in a hushed whisper, "What?"

Amber dropped her hand over his knee with a sympathetic frown, "I made sure he knew you and I were together and that we'd just be going as friends. And in the end he offered to get a ticket for Allison too," She promised quietly, "I didn't realize you despised him quite so much or else I would've-"

"Well if I disliked him before, I freakin' loathe him now." Stiles glared over her shoulder once more.

She sighed, grip tightening on his leg, "Babe, I'm sorry, but.. I'm not canceling on him after I already agreed to go-"

"I didn't- I'm not asking you to-" Stiles huffed with a shake of his head, "Just, be careful, alright? There's something off about the guy."

She turned her head to look back at Matt again and watched as the boy finished his chips and began meticulously folding the empty bag in half over and over until it was shaped into a small square of trash that he proceeded to tuck away in the pocket of his jeans.

"Right.." Amber drew out the word quietly, unconvinced.

A silence fell over their table, the quiet stretching on for a few minutes before Jackson suddenly pushed out of his chair and began to stumble toward the library doors with a mumbled excuse about needing to use the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Harris questioned, looking genuinely worried for the boy in a way that had Amber very nearly rolling her eyes, "You don't look so good-"

Jackson merely pushed past the teacher when they crossed paths, "I just need to get some water." He muttered as he pushed through the doors and exited the library.

Mr. Harris watched him go for only a moment before he moved to follow behind him, pausing at the doors to turn back and glare at the rest of them, "No one leaves their seats." He warned.

The moment the doors closed behind him, Amber, Scott, and Stiles all shared a look in silent communication before they wordlessly pushed up from their chairs and rushed over to the table Erica had taken up by herself.

"Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died." Scott addressed the blonde, wasting no time with beating around the bush.

Erica looked between the three of them as they sat down and shrugged in nonchalance, "Maybe."

"Talk." Scott urged quickly.

Erica flipped her notebook closed with a sigh and leaned over the table on her elbows, "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator, and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he turns eighteen."

Stiles narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "So, not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?"

"Yup." Erica grinned at the annoyance in his voice.

"There is something so deeply wrong with that." Stiles muttered.

"The last thing that boy needs is more money to further inflate his ego." Amber agreed quietly.

"You know what?" Erica murmured, opening her laptop and clicking around on the trackpad as she navigated the screen, "I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox.. He keeps everything."

"Scott McCall, Please report to the principal's office. Scott McCall. Principal's office."

Amber had pushed out of her seat and was headed to the opposite side of the table where Stiles and Erica were sitting when the announcement rang out loudly through the PA system. She frowned as she looked at her friend in question but Scott shrugged in response with a frown of his own, patting her on the shoulder as he stood and moved to head down to the front office.

Stiles spread his legs over the sides of his wide chair and Amber settled between his thighs easily so that they could both peer at the computer screen while Erica did a deep dive through her father's old emails.

As the blonde finally pulled up the message thread they were looking for a few minutes later, the doors to the library reopened with a quiet click as Jackson and Mr. Harris came back into the room, but the three teens paid no attention, continuing to read through the attachments as Erica opened them up on the screen.

"Wait, wait-" Amber whispered, her eyes suddenly catching on the words written on the copy of the insurance claim, "Look at the dates."

"Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA-" Erica read from the middle of the page, "The estimated time of death - 9:26 P.M., June 14, 1995." She finished with a questioning lilt to her voice, eyebrows lifting as if she wasn't sure what could be possibly important about that particular piece of information

"Jackson's birthday is June 15." Stiles pointed out, pulling the words straight from Amber's mouth.

Erica turned to blink at them in surprise.

The sudden zing of a zipper rang out through the room and everyone's attention was drawn to where Mr. Harris was pulling his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his things as he moved to leave early. The teens all followed suit in collective relief, beginning to gather their own belongings together before the sound of their teacher chuckling quietly made them pause.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry-" He laughed, not sounding the least bit apologetic, "Uh, yes.. I'm leaving. But none of you are," He explained, stepping up to one of the many wheeled carts stacked high with books, "You may go when you're done with the reshelving. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Mr. Harris chuckled again as he left the room and Amber's face pinched up in disgust.

"I genuinely hate that man." She muttered, dropping down into the seat again and leaning back into Stiles' chest with a sigh.

Erica's eyes were flicking over the screen of her laptop again, still searching for something following the discovery made by Stiles and Amber.

"What?" Amber questioned after a moment.

Erica closed the lid to her computer and blinked, "They kept his mom on life support until they could get her body prepped for surgery." She explained quietly.

"Jesus." Stiles muttered.

All of their gazes drifted over to where Jackson was leaning heavily over the top of his table, looking slightly sweaty and feverishly unwell.

"You think he's good?" Amber questioned in a whisper, head tipped back onto Stiles shoulder so she could speak quietly into his ear.

Stiles shrugged behind her, "Maybe the bite's finally gonna kill him." He joked.

Amber pinched his arm between her fingers in reprimand, "Cut that out. Now, c'mon. Let's do some reshelving. I'd like to go home at some point today."

Erica rolled her eyes at the couple just as the doors were thrown open once again and Scott reemerged. He immediately came to stand where Amber was already beginning to roll one of the carts of books in the direction of the stacks, nodding his head toward Allison in a motion for her to follow them. Stiles stepped around Amber to pull the cart from the other side, grabbing a book at random once they were hidden away between the shelves and peering down at the sticker on the bottom of the binding as he searched for the place where it belonged amongst the shelved books.

"Did you guys find anything?" Scott questioned his friends as Allison stepped up beside them.

Amber grimaced as she grabbed a book of her own, "Yeah, kinda." She supplied weakly, pushing up onto her toes to shove the book onto a high shelf.

"You guys found something?" Allison repeated curiously, "About his parents?"

Amber and Stiles both nodded, looking at one another silently as they debated who should speak and eventually the girl caved with a sigh, "Well, you know they both died in a car accident-" She whispered, fighting against the flashes of painful memories that cropped up at the reminder of how her own parents had been taken from her, "But it was only a couple of hours before Jackson was born." She continued.

"What does that mean?" Scott asked in confusion.

"It means he was born after his mom died," Amber explained, "..By c-section."

"They had to pull him out of her dead body." Stiles supplied grimly.

"Oh my god." Allison whispered.

Amber nodded in agreement as she reshelved another book, "So, yeah. His parents were killed before tiny Jackson was even born into the world."

"Killed.." Allison repeated slowly, "So, was it an accident or not?"

Stiles shrugged, "The word all over the reports is 'inconclusive'."

Scott leaned on his elbows, resting his weight onto a stack of books with wide eyes, "What? His parents could've been murdered?"

Stiles nodded with another noncommittal shrug, "If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth, right?"

Amber nodded in agreement, "It seeks out and kills murderers but.. What, because it had a loved one who was also murdered?"

"Would that go for Jackson? Or the person controlling him?" Allison questioned in a hushed voice.

"Maybe both?" Amber pondered, "I mean, maybe that's why they bonded in the first place."

"Could be." Stiles agreed easily.

"Regardless, I don't think Jackson wants to kill anybody," Amber whispered, "I mean, if he knew what he was-"

"We have to talk to him," Scott interrupted, moving around the book cart to walk to the front of the aisle, "We have to tell him."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Amber countered, stepping forward to follow after him, "I don't think he's gonna listen to-" Scott left the row of shelves without another word and Amber sighed as she turned back to Allison and Stiles, "-And he's gone.. Y'know, he used to listen to me."

"Yeah, him going Teen Wolf and no longer being such a pushover is a real pain in the ass, isn't it?" Stiles lamented in agreement.

"Yes." Amber agreed in discontent.

A loud crash from a few rows over had Amber flinching in surprise, head whipping toward the commotion as another crash immediately followed, the second one sounding out slightly closer.

"Erica!" Scott yelled from another row.

Amber took a nervous step back toward Stiles as her heart picked up in her chest. The next crash sounded from directly above them as a dark blur jumped from one towering bookshelf to another, slamming into the ceiling and shattering lights as it moved. Amber brought her hands up to cover her head as small shards of glass along with styrofoam and dust from the ceiling tiles rained down over them and Stiles pulled her to the ground, wrapping one arm around her waist and positioning the other protectively over their heads.

They heard Erica let out a small scream from the next row and as Stiles lowered his arm slowly, Amber looked between him and Allison with wide eyes.

The shattered light bulbs above were sparking dangerously as electricity continued to flow into them and Amber took ahold of Stiles' wrist as the sound of wood splintering and loud crashes continued from beyond the stack that they were tucked away in.

The familiar screech of the kanima sounded out only moments before Scott was tossed back into a cart of books in need of re-shelving at the end of the bookshelves. Amber made a small, unconscious move to go toward her friend to help but Stiles tugged her back into his arms without hesitation, scolding her quietly.

Scott groaned as he righted himself and he slipped into the row of shelves upon spotting the three of them still ducked down beside the other book cart. He came to a crouch in front of them all, blocking them off from the end of the row and stretching his arms out protectively as Allison flocked to her boyfriend's back.

It was only then that Amber's eyes fell on Jackson. He was stood in front of a blackboard across the room, half-shifted in a way she'd only ever seen when he was unconscious outside of the nightclub, his skin lightly covered in scales though he remained looking mostly human. His head lolled to the side limply as he gripped a piece of chalk and began to write on the board, showing no indication that he knew what he was doing, like a puppet controlled by someone pulling at its strings.

The chalk clicked loudly against the board in the sudden silence as Jackson's unfocused yellow eyes gazed at nothing in particular across the room and Amber gripped onto Stiles that much tighter in unease. Jackson finished his messy scrawl of large letters on the board, remaining still for a terrifying moment before he launched himself out of the second story library window in a loud crash of shattering glass.

Amber let out a shaky exhale and Stiles pressed his mouth to her temple, not quite kissing her but simply panting anxious breaths into her skin as they all took in the message that had been left behind on the blackboard.

STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU

The four rose to their feet, slowly stepping out from the row of bookshelves as the lights continued to flicker and spark above them. Amber's gaze drifted to the next row over as it came into view and she stumbled over her own feet at the sight of the blonde werewolf convulsing on the floor.

Amber pushed past Stiles and fell to her knees, rolling Erica over onto her back until she could see the other girl's face.

"Woah, woah- Hey!" Stiles alerted the others immediately as he followed his girlfriend's footsteps and helped her hold onto Erica while the girl thrashed.

"She's having a seizure-" Amber shouted in confusion, "She's a werewolf! How- How is she having a seizure?"

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital." Stiles announced obviously.

"Derek-" Erica disagreed in a quick burst, "T-To Derek."

Their grip on the blonde tightened further as she twitched and Scott dropped down to the floor alongside them, looking over to the next row where Allison was checking on an unconscious Matt.

"He's alive." Allison declared.

Scott sighed in relief, his eyes meeting Amber's panicked ones before his gaze dropped down to Erica for a moment. He looked back at Allison, "When we get her to the hospital-"

"To Derek," Erica was quick to repeat, jerking beneath Amber's hands, "To Derek."

"Okay," Amber agreed easily as Stiles sat Erica up in his arms, "Okay, we'll go to Derek." She promised.

Scott was still looking at Allison longingly and he stood suddenly before rounding the bookshelf to drop down beside his girlfriend.

Stiles' head snapped up in annoyance, "Hey, Scott!"

"Asshole." Amber muttered under her breath as she pushed a clump of curls from Erica's face and tucked them behind her ear, "Scott!" She called out again in frustration.

She could hear the hushed whisperings between Scott and Allison but couldn't quite make out the words that were being said and her eyes went to her boyfriend's to meet Stiles' own irritated gaze.

"Scott, go." Allison said loudly.

"Yeah, Scott, get your ass over here!" Amber snapped as she helped Stiles get to his feet with Erica draped in his arms bridal style.

Scott finally approached them again a few seconds later and immediately took Erica's weight from Stiles' arms, carrying her effortlessly as he rushed toward the exit. Stiles huffed quietly in annoyance as they followed behind Scott with quick steps and Amber's hand found his back as they moved through the empty halls.

"I had that." Stiles muttered quietly.

"I know you did." Amber assented, rubbing her hand over his shoulder blades as they rushed down the hallway.

"I wasn't struggling that much. I could've carried her-"

Amber nodded empathetically, "I'm sure you could've."

Stiles huffed as they rounded a corner to head toward the front doors, "Why do I get the feeling you're just trying to appease me?"

"Because I am." Amber said easily, grabbing his hand to pull him to move faster.

"Wh- I mean, I've carried you plenty of times! You know I could-"

"You're very strong, baby, okay?" She placated quickly as they followed Scott through the doors and down the steps to the sidewalk, "But we both know Scott's stronger. There's no point in wearing out your human muscles, right?"

Stiles frowned as he pulled out his keys, "Yeah, I- Okay."

She knew that couldn't possibly be the end of it, the very last thing Stiles was known for was his ability to let things go, or concede in a fight — but it seemed he was willing to drop the subject for now, and Amber rewarded him with a tender stroke of her thumb over his cheek before she climbed into the vehicle.

As sickening as it was to watch Derek snap the bones in Erica's arm to jumpstart her healing process, it was nothing compared to the positively blood curdling scream that Erica let out when he sunk his claws into her flesh to squeeze the kanima venom out through the broken limb.

Amber had never had any real problems with the sight of blood, but as Derek dug his fingers into the skin of Erica's arm and thick red streams of it poured out onto the dirty floor of the train car, she had to hold back a gag as nausea flooded her body.

Stiles' warm breath against her neck as he shielded his own eyes from the gore-y scene was a welcomed comfort. She reached to cup the back of his head and he burrowed his face further into her hair with a wince when Derek tightened his grip once more and Erica's screams started up again.

"Derek-" Amber choked out, tightening her other hand around Erica's as a few tears leaked down the blonde's cheeks.

"I'm almost done." Derek promised them.

The next few minutes were painful for everyone involved and their ears were still ringing with Erica's cries of pain by the time Derek released his grip on her arm. They all slumped in relief at the sudden silence while Erica caught her breath and Derek and Scott were quick to rise to their feet and exit the ratty train car.

Amber stumbled to her own feet, temples throbbing slightly from both the anxiety and the screams that had filled her head for the last couple hours. She gave Stiles' shoulder a squeeze before she followed the path out of the train car in search for where Scott and Derek had wandered off to only moments before.

"You knew who it was." Scott accused Derek as Amber stepped up behind the two werewolves.

She watched with a sick weight in her stomach as Derek wiped Erica's blood away from his hands with a rag before he nodded and spoke, "Jackson."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?" Scott asked in annoyance.

Derek nodded again but Amber took another step into their space before he could respond, "You're not going to hurt him."

"I'm not?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.

"Face it, Derek. You need help from Scott and his worthless pack of humans," Her words were laced with venom and she almost felt satisfied by the look of surprise on the older werewolf's face, "And we'll help you, alright? But we're not hurting him."

"Amber-" Derek's words were cut off when Scott cut in.

"She's right," Scott nodded seriously, placing a hand on Amber's shoulder in a show of support, "We'll help you stop him. But we do it on one condition; we're gonna find a way to catch him, not kill him."

Derek sighed, "So what's your plan then?"

Silence.

"You want to do things 'your way', but neither of you has a plan?" Derek huffed in exasperation.

"The rave on Friday.." Amber said after a moment.

Derek shook his head immediately, "There'll be too many people-"

"Exactly," Scott agreed immediately, "Jackson won't be expecting us to corner him in such a crowded location and he'll be a whole lot easier to catch if he's not expecting it."

"So, Mr. I'm A Werewolf And I Know Everything-" Amber looked at Derek expectantly, "How does one set a trap for demented lizard-wolf?"

"We could use mountain ash, maybe.." Derek said with a shrug, "But I don't have any."

"Well who would?" Amber asked immediately.

Derek frowned, "Scott's boss might-"

"You think Deaton has this stuff?" Scott questioned.

"There's a lot you don't know about him, Scott," Derek supplied unhelpfully, "And I doubt he'd give it to me, but he might be willing to give it to you."

"Okay," Amber said easily, "So we ask Dr. Deaton for this ashy shit.. What exactly is it though? How is it gonna help us catch Jackson?"

Derek sighed a long suffering sigh before giving them a painfully undetailed run down of how they might be able to use the mountain ash to trap Jackson, but voiced that he was unsure how they'd subdue the kanima once they had him trapped. Scott was quick to insist that Deaton would be able to help them come up with a more thorough plan and that he, Amber, and Stiles would go and speak with his boss after school one day.

"Cool. So we have a week to come up with a plan, then," Amber said, bitterness seeping into her voice as her eyes drifted to Derek again, "I guess we'll just have one of your precious Betas let you know once we have it all hashed out, since you've made sure that it's impossible for any of us to get a hold of you."

She turned away with a huff and made her way down the dark, dirty hallway, needing just a moment by herself as anger pulsed violently in her chest. She flinched when a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her to a stop in an empty stretch of the abandoned railway cars.

"Amber, hang on a second." Derek said calmly.

Her eyes narrowed, hurt creeping up inside her as she recalled what he'd said just a few days before to shed some light on why he'd entirely cut off contact with her.

I didn't want you to be a part of my pack if you wanted to stay human.

"What?" She sighed weakly.

"I know I hurt your feelings," He said slowly, "And I-"

"You didn't," She lied with a small shrug, "Why would I be hurt?"

Derek gave her a look as if she were being wholly ridiculous, "I know I hurt you," He repeated, "When I told you I didn't want you to be a part of my pack-"

"I'm a part of Scott's pack, remember? You said so yourself. I don't want to be a part of your stupid agro-pack anyway, okay?"

He appeared sad as he frowned at her and she couldn't quite tell if it was hurt or pity swimming in his eyes, but her throat tightened regardless.

He sighed, "I just wanted to apologize, alright? My mother never really considered the human family members to be part of the pack and until I saw the bond that Scott's formed with you, and Stiles, and Allison, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. I didn't-"

"Didn't want a sixteen year old little girl to get in the way and ruin your perfect pack of werewolves?"

She refused to even look at the older werewolf as she spit his words back at him, her eyes focussed on the dirty cement wall behind him instead. She hadn't even been truly angry when he'd initially said the words, but now that her frustration had pushed its way to the surface, she felt her emotions taking over for the first time since the night she'd turned down his offer of the bite.

"I shouldn't have said that," Derek confessed quietly, "I didn't mean it. I was angry that you turned me down but I shouldn't have pushed you away the way I did."

Her jaw clenched, "No. You shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry."

At his apology, her eyes finally flicked back to Derek and her stiffness loosened slightly at the genuine regret on his normally stoic face.

"All I ever wanted was to help you." She said quietly.

"I know."

"I- I was starting to think of you like a brother and you just.. You said you didn't want me anymore and you left." Her voice caught in her throat and Derek's eyes widened at the shift in her emotions, "I cared about you."

"I.." Derek's face scrunched up like he was struggling entirely too hard with his words before continuing, "I care about you too."

Her face broke into a grin accompanied by glassy eyes as she threw her arms around his shoulders, "Aw, Sourwolf.. I forgive you. For being such a big stupid dickhead."

Derek chuckled quietly as he returned her hug and Amber's chest felt decidedly warm.

"Oh, come on! Alpha paws off my girlfriend. For the love of God." Stiles' voice exclaimed as he rounded the corner.

Amber laughed as she released the werewolf and she took Stiles' hand in hers as soon as he was at her side, "How's Erica?" She asked.

Stiles smiled sadly, "Healed. She passed out but she looks a lot better than she did."

Derek nodded at his words before moving past them and Amber's arms looped around her boyfriend's waist the moment they were alone. She nuzzled her head into his neck and he huffed an amused laugh as he returned her embrace, combing his fingers through her hair in a familiar motion.

"What's up?" He asked quietly.

She shrugged and attempted to bury herself deeper in him, "Are you and Scott ready to go?"

Stiles hummed a confirmation before dropping his arms around her waist, "Should I carry you to the Jeep? To prove my more than adequate human strength?" He tightened his arms and lifted her until her toes could only just brush the ground but she shoved him away with a squeal of laughter.

"No," She said quickly as she moved down the hall, "Nope, no carrying necessary. Let's go get Scott. We can start planning Operation Capture Jackson on the way."

Stiles ran up behind her and she broke into laughter again while dodging his attempts to get his arms around her, tangling her fingers with his instead as she pulled him along.

"Stiles!"

Amber fisted the fabric of his flannel between her fingers in the scramble for something substantial to hold onto as her voice rose.

"I'm serious! Put me down!" She demanded in a shout.

"Nope," He slammed the passenger door of the Jeep closed and turned to head inside the house, his hands gripping her thighs tightly to ensure she didn't fall from the place where she'd been thrown over his shoulder after insisting he help her from the vehicle in what she'd thought had been an act of chivalry, "Not until we're upstairs. I'm-"

"You have proven your point!" She found herself laughing despite the way his shoulder was digging somewhat painfully into her gut.

"Not yet."

As he stepped into the house, Stiles took a moment to toe off his shoes while using one hand to pull Amber's from her feet and dropping them to smack against the floor one at a time.

"I'm wearing a dress!" She squealed when he still didn't set her down. She suddenly found herself desperately hoping that none of his nosy neighbors had been looking through their windows at the right moment to receive a full view of her ass as he'd carried her inside.

"You sure are," Stiles agreed as he moved past the entryway and deeper into the house, his right hand sliding dangerously further up her thigh as he went, "Thanks for that, by the way. It's a nice view."

She pinched his backside in retaliation as he began to climb the stairs and his knees buckled worryingly for a moment in surprise on the bottom step.

"Do not drop me, Stilinski-" She threatened seriously.

"Don't distract me!" He countered.

"You're being ridiculous!" She argued, watching with unease as the distance between her head and the floor grew, "And you're lucky I don't get motion sickness because looking down all of these stairs is mildly terrifying-"

"I'm not gonna drop you." He promised.

He made a point of tightening his fingers around her thighs further to reassure her but his actions had an entirely different effect. She had to bite down on her lower lip painfully to hold back the quiet moan that threatened to escape as his fingers dug into the soft flesh just beneath the roundness of her ass, his thumb dipping torturously between her thighs as he squeezed, the tip achingly close to pressing against her lace-covered core. So close, she could very nearly taste it.

When they made it to his bedroom, Stiles unceremoniously dropped her down onto the bed and she quickly propped herself up on her elbows to look up at him in disbelief, her cheeks flushed with heat.

"That.. Was so unnecessary." She said breathlessly as she pushed herself to sit up at the edge of his bed.

Stiles only grinned, "Told you I could do it, though. I'm not even winded. In fact, I could've-"

His words cut off in surprise when Amber dragged him forward with a hand fisted in his shirt, his knees bumping the mattress as he stumbled to a stop between her parted legs. She blinked up at him while she continued to catch her breath, tongue poking out to wet her lips unconsciously as her gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth.

Stiles watched the movements and leaned down suddenly with one knee on the mattress between her thighs to pull her into a kiss, his hand gliding over her jaw to cradle the back of her head until his fingers could tangle in her hair.

She groaned into his mouth, her arms sliding across his shoulders to loop around his neck so that she could pull him down against her as she fell to her back on the bed. The sparks that had pooled in her belly crept lower, fluttering excitedly between her legs as his weight settled on top of her and she sighed contentedly through her nose when he deepened the kiss.

His fingers skimmed with the ghost of a touch over the skin of her biceps, dragging up past her elbows where he untangled her arms from around his neck to push them down against the mattress. His hands trailed back toward her own to tangle their fingers together once her arms were splayed out on either side of her head. When his lips left hers, she tipped her head back while his mouth left a wet trail of kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.

Her hips canted up reflexively as his teeth scraped softly over the sensitive skin of her throat, his warm breath tingling along her skin, and Stiles groaned into her neck when her pelvis made contact with the growing bulge at the front of his jeans.

"Stiles-" She breathed as his hands tightened around hers, arching up against him again in a desperate search for friction.

The scratch of denim was rough against her bare thighs as he shifted between her legs. The smell of his body wash still lingered on his skin from his morning shower and it filled her lungs with much needed oxygen while simultaneously filling her head with a giddy static that left her reeling, like the black and white fuzz of a channel that didn't come in on the television.

His lips trailed lower to leave hot kisses along her collarbones, his hands releasing her only so that he could slide her sweater from her shoulders, the strap of her dress following suit and slipping down past her elbow. His mouth was quick to find the newly revealed skin of her chest and she groaned while he stripped her of her cardigan completely, allowing him to tug it down her arms and toss it blindly over the side of the bed.

She pushed his own overshirt from his shoulders in response and his hands gravitated back to her skin the moment it was stripped away so that he could hike the fabric of her dress up, his thumbs pressing into her flesh intoxicatingly when he reached the tops of her thighs. She helped him drag the fabric up over her stomach and chest, tearing the dress over her head in a quick movement.

Stiles stared at her in awe for a moment before he was crowding her back against the bed to recapture her lips. Their tongues danced between hot breaths but eventually he was leaning down to reattach his mouth to the skin of her chest with wet kisses instead.

She felt his hands slip beneath her back to tug at the clasp of her bra. His mouth paused distractedly where he'd been kissing at her skin and the offer to assist him was on her lips when the fabric suddenly fell loose around her chest.

"Got it," Stiles boasted quietly, pulling the article from her body and throwing that behind himself as well, his lips immediately gravitating back to her chest, "Stupid demon contraption-" He muttered against her skin before sealing his mouth around a pebbled nipple.

The moan she let out was pornographic as her spine arched up from the mattress, chasing the feeling of his mouth, of his teeth scraping lightly against the bud while his thumb brushed lightly over her other breast.

It felt all too sudden when he pulled back and she blinked at him in confusion, feeling ridiculously disheveled from just fifteen minutes of kissing and a few seconds of his mouth on her tits.

"Hickeys," Stiles said simply as they looked at one another with lust-filled eyes. He licked at his swollen lips before continuing, "How do you feel about hickeys if they're not on your neck? Y'know? Is that still a no, or-"

She nodded wildly, "'S fine, that's fine."

An excited grin spread across his face and Amber wondered for a fleeting moment if she'd later regret granting him permission, but the thoughts were cast out of her mind the second he bit down on the sensitive flesh on the side of her breast, teeth sinking into the softness with a sudden and pleasurable sting.

She keened and gripped at the back of his neck as he sucked harshly on the sensitive skin before moving on to a new spot, his mouth leaving a smattering of biting kisses over both her breasts, littering her with spots in a wide array of pink and purple. He gripped her waist tightly, one hand holding her still as he worked while the other trailed down the outside of her thigh to pull her leg up around his hip.

When he finally kissed his way back up to her mouth, she angled her head to deepen the kiss immediately and reached between them to press her palm against the bulge beneath the zip of his pants as their tongues tangled. Stiles groaned into her mouth and she was quick to begin working at the button on his jeans, tugging it free and yanking down the zipper before pulling at the fabric at his hips.

He leaned back to rid himself of his jeans and slipped back into the space between her thighs in a flash, his hips rolling down against hers lightly as he reattached their mouths. He didn't waste any time before his lips were dragging back down her neck and chest, leaving a wet trail in their wake as he kissed and licked at her skin.

She was about to plead with him to do something but the words died on her lips when he moved lower, kissing a line down her stomach and nipping lightly at her hip bone before trailing lower still and repeating the treatment he'd given her breasts on the skin at the top of her thighs with teasing bites and kisses.

His fingers finally hooked beneath the waistband of her underwear and he slipped the fabric down her legs until they were out of the way, absentmindedly leaving them hooked around just one of her ankles in his rush to get back to the task at hand.

His head dipped down between her thighs tongue first and Amber cried out, gripping desperately at his shoulders over his shirt as he began to work his mouth against her clit.

"Yes," She praised simply in a low whisper, "S-shit."

He slid a hand up her stomach to massage her breast and she found herself having a hard time holding back the breathy noises that left her as he alternated between licking down at her entrance and moving a little higher up to flick his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves there instead. He swirled around her clit a few times, warm and soft and so fucking incredible, before he was flattening his tongue to apply more pressure.

"Sti-" She gasped, "Shit, y-yes. Just like- You- S-shit-"

Her chest was heaving with strangled breaths, fingers digging into his shoulders desperately as she tried to vocalize how good he was making her feel.

Her thighs began to tremble with the build of her orgasm, legs tightening around his shoulders as he worked her closer and closer to her peak. She was teetering on the edge, gasping and whining slack-jawed, when Stiles closed his lips around her clit and sucked lightly, his tongue still flicking against the nub, and her orgasm suddenly crashed over her in a wave of white-hot pleasure. Her hips twitched beneath him and his name spilled from her lips as her whole body jerked with her release.

He didn't back off until she began to wriggle uncomfortably beneath him from overstimulation. He haphazardly wiped the slick covering his mouth off against the love-bitten skin of her thigh before he crawled his way back up her body to drop his forehead against hers, their noses brushing lightly as she caught her breath.

"It- It's almost annoying how good you are at that." She murmured, tipping her chin up to catch his lips against hers lightly.

Stiles grinned in satisfaction at the compliment and he leaned down to slot their lips together more firmly, the taste of her own arousal lingering on his mouth.

After a moment of recovery, Amber reached down to wrap a hand around the hard line of his cock over his boxers, a surprisingly large patch of precome dampening the fabric, his length warm and heavy in her hand. He huffed a sharp breath into her mouth and she pulled back from the kiss slightly to peer up at him, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered and his lips parted as she tightened her fingers around him and worked her hand slowly.

Stiles groaned weakly when she released him but she ignored his noises of protest, forcing his boxers down his hips and pushing at his shoulders determinedly until he was laying on his back. She pulled her own underwear up over her thighs again before discarding his and settling between his spread knees.

He was achingly hard now, his cock long and thick where it curved up his stomach, the head of it red and leaking a small trail of precome into the dark hairs of his happy trail. She took him back into her hand while pushing the fabric of his shirt up his chest slightly, her fingers scratching through the damp trail of hair that led up from his groin before pressing into the tensed muscles of his stomach.

She fought not to cringe at the action as she spit over the tip and began to jerk him off in earnest, thumbing away the strand of connection to her mouth. Her embarrassment washed away in a flash of confidence when Stiles let out another devastatingly weak groan, the sound of it high and breathy.

Her hand tightened at the head, collecting the precome leaking from his tip and combining it with her own spit with an easy twist of her wrist before slipping her fist back down his length, the glide smooth and noisy with the slick of the makeshift lubricant.

She leaned down slowly after a moment of simply pumping him with her fist, guiding the head of his cock to her lips. She watched him watching her — watched the moment his eyes slipped shut with a curse and his thighs twitched as she wrapped her lips around the tip.

"Oh, shit." He hissed, hands tangling in her hair, his fingers fumbling to gather her it away from her face so he could watch her move with no obstructions when he looked down again.

She swirled her tongue around the head once, relishing in the stuttered noises of desperation that Stiles was letting out, the way his thighs twitched as he tried not to thrust up into the heat of her mouth, the muscles of his stomach growing firm beneath her palm as he tensed.

"Babe. Baby, I'm-"

As he moaned, she was tightening her fist around the base, sucking lightly at the head and suddenly, Stiles was coming with a groan, warmth coating her tongue as his muscles tensed further and his grip tightened in her hair. She pulled back slightly in surprise, swallowing what was in her mouth, the taste of it salty and slightly metallic. She rubbed her thumb over the slick tip while come continued to shoot out in weak spirts, watching her boyfriend twitch with the waves of his own release, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed rapidly beneath dark hair and pale skin.

"Holy.. shit." He whispered, hips jerking and eyes closed as the last dregs of his release coated her fingers.

She waited, momentarily mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest with labored breaths, before she reached past him to grab a tissue and began to wipe the mess away from the bottom of his stomach and her hand. When she reached back up for a second tissue, Stiles halted her movements to look at her with wide eyes.

His thumb rubbed along her jaw softly, "Oh my god," He whispered, "I'm.. So sorry. I just.. Shit. I'm sorry." He repeated quietly, looking adorably flushed from embarrassment or his orgasm or possibly some combination of both.

"What exactly are you apologizing for?" She asked curiously, her hand trailing up his cheek as she reached up to drag her fingertips through the softness of his short hair.

He grimaced, "Well first off for having, like, zero restraint whenever you're on top of me and always embarrassing myself by coming in like ten seconds-" He began quietly, "But mostly for just coming in your mouth without any warning-"

Amber knocked their foreheads together as she snorted an amused laugh, "Mhm. Totally unforgivable.." She teased, "But I guess.. Just this once.."

She leaned down to give him a kiss but his head tipped away to avoid her lips as he continued.

"I'm serious. I swear I usually last longer, but-"

"Usually?" She repeated the word playfully, "What, when you're jerking off in bed all by yourself?"

His nose scrunched up cutely in annoyance, "Well, I.. Yeah."

She laughed, "Aw, Sti. I'm sorry that having a real life half-naked girl on top of you is proving so detrimental to your sexual stamina."

"It's just not the presence of a naked girl that's been ruining me. Y'know, just for the record," He said quietly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as he continued, "It's that it's you."

"You're ridiculous." She blushed despite herself.

"I'm serious," He corrected, "I've wanted you for as long as I can remember and as if listening to the sounds you make when I'm eating you out aren't bad enough, then you actually get your hands on me, tits out, and you look up at me with those freakin' eyes while you put my dick in your mouth?" He shook his head with a small smile, "Nope.. No fuckin' way. I don't stand a chance."

"You're a pretty smooth talker aren't you, Stilinski?"

"I'm not trying t-"

She silenced him with a kiss, their mouths separating and quickly reconnecting in fluid movements until she had no choice but to lean back so that they could both catch their breath again.

"We should probably get started on homework if we don't want to end up like Scott." She commented reluctantly.

"I'm not sure it's even possible to fall as far behind as Scott," Stiles squeezed her hip lightly, "But you're probably right."

Amber leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve his underwear, passing them to him before crossing the room to dig around in his dresser for something comfortable to wear, "What do you want to do for dinner? Is your dad working late or should we maybe wait for him-?"

As she spoke, her eyes caught on a rolled up bundle of white cotton at the back corner of the drawer and she pulled it out excitedly, rubbing her thumb over the faded logo on the front before tugging it over her head.

"Working late. Again." Stiles sighed as he stepped up behind her, swapping the drawers to pull open the one stuffed with his sweats and pajama bottoms. He paused in his search for a pair of pants and grabbed at her shoulder curiously, "What shirt-?"

His words cut off as she was turned to face him with an excited grin on her face. She stretched her arms out at her sides with a flourish as she showed off the shirt she'd uncovered from the depths of his dresser.

"How long d'you think it's been since this even fit you?" She laughed.

Stiles was staring distractedly at the way her hardened nipples poked out beneath the faded Star Wars logo covering her chest and he shook his head after a few seconds of deafening silence before responding, "I, uh.. I dunno. Maybe when I was twelve? Thirteen?"

The soft worn cotton of the shirt only reached the tops of her thighs, not quite long enough to cover her underwear completely and Stiles was weak to do anything but immediately crowd her back against the dresser. He toyed with the loose collar, fingers brushing against the column of her throat, and her heart stuttered at the warmth of his body pressed against her. His free hand slipped beneath the hem to run along her stomach, sliding back to the bottom of her spine while he tugged the collar to the side and dipped his head to press his lips softly to the base of her neck.

"Sti, we.. We're supposed to be getting dressed-"

"Maybe we should get undressed one more time, and then get re-dressed." He suggested before kissing her neck again.

"Homework. Studying.."

She sighed, closing her eyes and tipping her head to the side in contradiction to her words so that she could bask in the feeling of his mouth just a little longer. The knowledge that they needed to be responsible did nothing to quell the heat that pooled beneath lace as he nipped lightly at her skin, just soft enough to teasingly suggest the threat of a real bite.

She gripped the warm skin of his hips, fingernails digging into pale flesh as she let out a breathy sigh and relaxed back against the dresser.

She let him continue for a long minute before pushing him back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, "Homework. We'll do homework and eat something and then maybe, before bed.."

Stiles groaned, "Fine."

She kissed the pout on his lips lightly, "We're making good choices."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

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