Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Probably not," Stiles concedes, because Isaac Lahey is a nice person, and even though Stiles is not, he still knows when to hold back, and he notices when Isaac flinches back at the look he had shot him before, "Taking so many at a time is probably a bad idea, but I need to concentrate because Coach Finstock decided to make me his own personal secretary."

Stiles holds up the clipboard in his hands to show Isaac the papers on the lacrosse team, about strategies and which player gets what position and which player has good enough grades to play and any medical conditions Coach needs to worry about, especially if they'd impair the player's abilities on the field. Isaac nods and the nervous look hasn't left his eyes, and Stiles is not a nice person, so he smirks and grabs Isaac by the hand. The boy flinches but allows Stiles to drag him off, probably too nervous to do anything about it, probably too scared because fear is all he knows.

"You can be my own personal organizer," Stiles states, ignoring Isaac's cringing as he drags the poor, unsuspecting omega into the alpha/beta locker rooms because Stiles is good at ignoring things that doesn't suit his whims. He doesn't mind the odd looks he and Isaac get from the alphas and betas in the room, making a beeline toward Scott. Scott looks dazed, in shock, and Stiles needs to speak with him about werewolves and about Derek Hale and about something called an Alpha and how there may be a third werewolf in town.

So, he turns to Isaac and shoves the clipboard in his hands and orders him around because that's what he's good at, "Isaac, take this and organize it for me real quick. I need to talk to Scott."

Isaac looks dazed, too, Stiles realizes, and a little annoyed and that just makes Stiles amused because he always believed that Isaac was a constant nervous wreck incapable of feeling anything other than fear. Stiles grins at him and Isaac rolls his eyes, but relents, making his way toward an empty bench to do what Stiles asked. Stiles' grin morphs into a smirk before he twists around and makes his way over to Scott.

"Scott," Stiles greets, but Scott is still in shock, staring at everything but seeing nothing, and Stiles ignores it and continues, "Did you talk to Allison?"

"Yeah," Scott murmurs, voice almost monotonous, and Stiles wonders if it has anything to do with the Hunters Derek spoke of and if Derek was omitting something when he said Scott wasn't hurt.

"And..?" Stiles' voice gets a little irritated because he doesn't like one-worded answers, and Scott knows this, knows that Stiles needs to soak up as much information he can because he doesn't like not knowing things, and he will never be able to not, not know things with one-worded sentences.

"She, uh," Scott stammers, probably catching onto Stiles' tone of voice, attempting to speak more clearly, "She was worried about me because she thought I had a panic attack, and she wanted to know if I would be okay for another date with less people around, and..."

"Okay...?" Stiles' voice is still a little irritated because this is not really what he wants to talk about; he wants to talk about the Hunters and werewolves, and Scott knows it, and Stiles is perfectly aware that Scott knows that Stiles knows he's stalling.

"No, no, not okay," Scott's voice is beginning to take on a tone of panic, but Stiles merely raises his brows dispassionately, "The Hunters, the Hunters from last night... her dad was one of them."

"Her father...?" Stiles' voice trails off, and he's actually caught quite off guard, and if he's caught off guard, then Scott must be completely haggard.

"Her father..." Scott murmurs, and Stiles realizes that he's in minor shock, "Shot me... with a cross... bow..."

Scott's eyes widen once he completes his sentence, and Stiles realizes that his friend is probably picturing all the things Allison's father would do to him should the Hunter discover that the boy his daughter is beginning to take an interest in is actually a werewolf.

But Stiles doesn't relent, "Her last name's Argent, right?"

Scott merely nods dazedly, and Stiles thinks this is the most hilarious thing ever. Because Argent is French and Argent means silver, and the Argent family is the silver that hurts the werewolves, and it makes so much more sense because silver is actually a weak metal that would do little damage, and anything coated in silver is far too expensive for just anyone to get their hands on. And Stiles recognizes the name Argent, too, because his father spoke highly of a Chris Argent that entered the station and sold the police state of the art weapons, and how Chris Argent said he wants to do his part to keep this town safe, and Stiles wonders if Chris sold them any weapons that could harm werewolves.

"It makes sense," Stiles states, and Scott whips his head around and stares at him as if he lost his mind, but Stiles knows it's just for show because Scott knows he's never had control over his mind to begin with, "I mean, her dad is a weapon's dealer for police departments; he probably needs a legitimate reason for having a shit load of weapons in his home, and he needs those weapons to be legal, too, just in case something happens. So, yeah, Hunter daddy; makes perfect sense."

Scott blinks, "How do you know that?"

"My dad's the sheriff, dumbass," Stiles scoffs before he walks forward and grabs Scott's equipment and shoves it in the alpha's arms, "Did he recognize you?"

"N-no..."

"Good," Stiles speaks calmly, adjusting the equipment in Scott's arms so that the distracted alpha didn't drop everything, "Does she know about him?"

Scott's eyes widen as if he didn't think about that before, and Stiles wants to roll his eyes at Scott's inability to catch onto things quicker, "I-I don't know. Oh my god, Stiles, what if she does? Oh, god, she's gonna kill me, man, I can't...!"

Scott sounds close to sobbing, but Stiles isn't concerned, because if Allison had known then she would've recognized what was wrong with Scott right away, and she probably would have either been pissed or scared out of her mind that she had gotten so close to a werewolf. Allison is innocent, Stiles can see that already; her father is a different story, but Stiles isn't so sure about him just yet, can't be without meeting him or looking up his records. But Stiles knows that if Chris Argent does anything to harm Scott, Stiles will ruin his family. He'd keep Allison out of it, though, because she's a nice girl and Scott likes her, and Stiles likes her, too, and Stiles didn't forget about adding her to his very small list of people to worry about.

"Calm down," Stiles snips, shoving Scott toward his locker so that the alpha can get dressed, "Just focus on lacrosse for now, okay, and we'll figure everything out after practice. Got it?"

Silence.

"Scott-"

"Okay," Scott answers quickly, recognizing the pissed tone in Stiles' voice, because even though Stiles is good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he doesn't like to be ignored himself and bad things usually happen when Stiles is ignored. Like that time Harris ignored him when he answered that question perfectly, and Stiles snuck into the school that night and unscrewed everything on Harris' chair and laughed when the chemistry teacher fell on his ass the next day. And the detention was so worth it, thank you very much, because Stiles hates being ignored and Harris doesn't ignore his answers anymore.

"Okay," Stiles grins and makes his way back over to Isaac to check over his work. Isaac hands him the clipboard, and Stiles is actually impressed because Isaac organized each player's files based on their skills and lack of skills and which ones had problematic medical conditions and which ones couldn't play because of their grades. Stiles grins at him, and Isaac hesitantly smiles back before Stiles grabs him by the hand and once again drags him off, this time to the field.

Isaac still looks nervous, but he relaxes somewhat when Coach doesn't focus any attention on him, but the players, and even laughs a little when Coach begins harping on Greenburge. Stiles still isn't sure who Greenburge is, and he often wonders if he simply lives inside Coach's head.

"Balinski!"

Stiles jerks at the unexpected shout, and he notices Isaac do the same, before he turns his attention to the Coach.

"Go to the other side of the field," Coach orders, "I want you to keep on eye on the players from that angle and I want you to write down which position you think which person should be in. There's a specific amount of slots for each position; don't go over them. Understand?"

Stiles nods, and Coach nods back before blowing his whistle, and Stiles winces at the sound piercing his ears as Coach practically shoves Stiles into running to the other end of the field. Isaac looks nervous, unsure if he should follow the boy who dragged him out here or stick close to the Coach. His problem is solved for him, though, when Coach Finstock shoves a clipboard in his hands and tells him to organize the players' files. Isaac appears to purse his lips in annoyance because he's already done this; Stiles and Coach practically have the same files on their clipboards, but Stiles merely grins at him as he makes his way to the other side.

Stiles watches the players practically beat each other into the ground, and he immediately writes Jackson's name in one of the slots for the position of captain, because for all that Jackson bugs him, he's talented at sports and he knows how to strategize and keep the other players in line. He makes sure to keep a close eye on Scott because lacrosse is an aggressive game and Scott's a werewolf now and Stiles doesn't know what would make him shift, but he is pretty positive aggression is one of the triggers.

He glances to the side and a grin forms on his lips as he turns his attention back to the players.

"I thought Scott wasn't your problem," Stiles murmurs, ignoring Derek as the alpha stands next to him, turning his attention back to his clipboard and writing down a few more names.

"I said he wasn't unless he does something to expose us or harm someone," Derek reiterates, "And shifting on the field and attacking other players constitutes as both."

"Is that so?" Stiles mumbles, and he can't keep the grin off of his face, and he doesn't know why because this is Derek Hale, and Derek Hale is subtly threatening his best friend, but Stiles is still grinning, "Well, then, as long as you're here, you can make yourself useful. Tell me about werewolves."

"There's a lot to tell."

"I know, but I want you to tell me about what you told me last night. About Alphas, Betas, and Omegas."

Derek is quiet, but he appears contemplative, and Stiles allows him to think it over as he turns his attention back to the field. He catches Isaac's eye, and Isaac looks worried. Stiles can't blame him because he knows that Isaac is seeing a strange, adult alpha standing on a high school field too close for comfort to a teenage omega, and it must look strange and inappropriate, but Stiles merely grins at him. He sees Isaac purse his lips, but he looks back down at the papers Coach ordered him to organize. Stiles can still see his eyes flicking up to them from time to time, but Stiles doesn't mind because he knows that Isaac can't hear them from way over there.

"Like I said," Derek states, and Stiles keeps his focus entirely on him because Derek is going to tell him about werewolves, and Stiles is going to be one step closer to figuring out werewolves and Scott and the possibility of a third wolf in Beacon Hills, "Alpha, Beta, and Omega mean entirely different things when it comes to wolves. A werewolf whose gender is an alpha can be an Alpha wolf, or a Beta wolf, or an Omega wolf. It's confusing, I know, but it makes sense once you get used to it. For werewolves, their gender doesn't matter, it's what rank you are that does."

"So, like real wolves," Stiles states, "Canines are one of the few species that don't have alpha, beta, and omega sexes, just male and female, and some of the ranks in the wolf packs are called Alpha, Beta, and Omega. It's a hierarchy, and werewolves follow it, too, right?"

"Exactly," Derek looks and sounds vaguely impressed, and Stiles wonders why that makes him feel almost giddy, "There's a big difference, though, because real wolves have so many names for each rank of the pack members. Werewolf Packs work a little differently, and Beta and Omega don't mean the same things that the ranks in real wolf packs do. Alphas, they're the leaders; they run the Pack and their word is law, and they can make you obey them even if you try not to. Betas, they're average werewolves; they have the standard powers of weres. The only true difference between a Beta werewolf and an Omega one is that Betas are in Packs."

"So, Omega is the term for lone wolves," Stiles states, pursing his lips, "Why do I suddenly feel insulted?"

"Probably because Omega werewolves are the weakest," Derek shrugs, "And using the term Omega for them could probably be considered insulting to human omegas in the know."

"Just a little," Stiles whispers, lips curling sarcastically, but Derek merely rolls his eyes.

"There are powerful, powerful Omega werewolves running around," Derek relents, "But, most of them can't reach that level of power, though, because Packs make us stronger. And I mean that literally; Pack bonds and support, it strengthens us, helps us heal faster, helps us heal better, and they keep us stable and sane and human."

"And what about Scott?" Stiles questions, because Scott is his best friend and Scott is the only person he doesn't have to keep his darkness hidden away for out of fear of scaring him off, and Stiles doesn't want to lose him, doesn't want Scott to die simply because he couldn't gain control because he didn't have a packmate.

"Scott's wolf recognizes you as Pack," Derek states, "It's amazing, really, he should've killed you by now, or at least tried to, but he hasn't."

"Oh, thank you for that," Stiles narrows his eyes, shooting Derek a rather mean smile, "Thanks."

Derek simply shrugs, lifting his brows mockingly, and Stiles rolls his eyes and he wonders why he's having fun. Because he shouldn't be having fun, because this is Derek Hale, and Derek Hale is mocking him and this is a serious conversation because it could help Stiles help Scott, and Stiles shouldn't be having fun.

"Is there a name for human Pack members?" Stiles wonders, because Scott's wolf considers him Pack and Stiles wants to know if he'd have a rank because that sounds awesome.

"Deltas," Derek answers, "Humans in Packs are known as Deltas, and on the rare occasions that Packs take on non-human, non-wolf packmates, they're called Gammas."

"Non-human and non-wolf, so werewolves aren't the only thing out there, then?" Stiles wonders, because if werewolves are real, then the possibility for other supernatural creatures being real is strong, and Stiles wonders about the other things out there, like vampires or fae or even demons and angels, "Should I be scared of the dark?"

"Yes," Derek says it so casually, like it should be a fact of life, like all humans should learn to fear what goes bump in the night, but they can't because those things are myths to them and so they're in danger, always, because they don't believe.

Stiles simply shrugs, though, shooting Derek a little grin at his answer because Stiles isn't like most humans; most humans would be scared or reluctant at what's happening, but Stiles finds it exciting and he wants to know more, wants to know everything there is to know about the supernatural.

"So, tell me about werewolf ranks versus human genders," Stiles states, "Do genders have an affect on their rank, or is it an equal opportunity thing? And do the instincts each human gender have affect werewolf instincts? Like, do werewolf ranks come with their own set of instincts like human genders, and how badly would those instincts affect each other?"

"It's equal opportunity," Derek answers, "A werewolf whose gender is omega can easily become Pack Alpha, and they'd probably make better Alphas than any other gender; because omegas, usually, are instinctively nurturing and caring, and that, combined with their instincts as an Alpha wolf to guide and protect and lead their Pack makes them the perfect choices as Pack Alphas. But, still, like I said, it's equal opportunity; any wolf, no matter what gender, has the capability of becoming Alpha; it's all a matter of how they come into power."

"Cool," Stiles grins, because this is awesome; because even though the Equal Rights Amendment came into power nearly sixty years ago, there's still an asshole or two that looks down on him simply because of his gender, and the prospect of a species of humanoids completely avoiding that mindset is amazing and wonderful, "And how do they come into power?"

"It depends," Derek shrugs, "It's usually inherited. It's just a matter of which wolf in the Pack the Alpha chose as their successor, so... it's a conscious inheritance, not just an inheritance."

"But...?" Stiles pushes.

"It can also be stolen," Derek states, looking grim, "A Beta or an Omega wolf can steal the Alpha's power by killing them."

"Does that affect their power at all?"

"Normally Alphas like that have a harder time controlling their instincts. Because they were never meant to be Alpha, so their instincts fight against them."

Stiles finds this interesting because, maybe, this Alpha Derek spoke of is going through just that.

"And, yes, human instincts could affect wolf instincts," Derek continues, "Like, for example, an alpha whose wolf rank is Beta or Omega might be confused when dealing with a stronger wolf; because, their human side, their alpha side, is telling them to fight back because alphas don't handle being challenged too well, but their wolf side would recognize the stronger wolf and want to submit, and it could end up making the alpha-Beta or alpha-Omega's instincts go completely haywire."

"That sounds... not good," Stiles states, brows furrowing.

"Well," Derek shrugs, "Most wolves are taught or are forced to learn in their own time how to deal and control those instincts. Those that don't are usually feral."

"So, werewolves can regress into complete animals?" Stiles wonders.

"Yes," Derek states, "And it's usually Omegas because they don't have packmates to keep them grounded. But, it can happen to Betas or Alphas, especially if that Alpha doesn't have a Pack since Alphas' instincts are much more powerful than other wolves. Sometimes, they can be saved, but it's dangerous and a lot of people could die in the process, so... even other werewolves think it's safer to just put the feral ones out of their misery."

Stiles is quiet and he watches Scott as his best friend lines up with the other players to take on Jackson, because Jackson is the star player and anyone who can beat Jackson will have an immediate slot on the team. Stiles notices Derek follow his line of sight out of the corner of his eye, and Stiles sees his lips purse thoughtfully before he sighs heavily.

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen to Scott," Derek relents, "Having you is helping, but he really does need another wolf. I'll help him out, alright? Just... just try to keep an eye on him because I can't be there all the time when I'm trying to find the Alpha."

"Speaking of..." Stiles murmurs, watching as Jackson knocks back player after player, "You said that Alphas feel their instincts more strongly than other wolves... the Alpha that turned Scott, it's a rogue wolf, right? It doesn't have a Pack? So, is it feral and just following it's instincts? It turned Scott because it needs a Pack?"

"I'm not sure," Derek shrugs, "I just know there's an Alpha because of Scott; because Alphas are the only werewolves with the ability to turn humans."

"Okay," Stiles nods slowly, taking in all the information that's been given to him, "So, it's not like in the legends where any wolf can turn a human; only a specific wolf can. So... how are we supposed to tell a part an Alpha from a Beta from an Omega?"

"Their eyes," Derek shrugs, "I can't really explain it because it's a supernatural reaction to our powers and instincts, but... Alphas have red eyes, and Betas and Omegas have yellow eyes."

"Scott..." Stiles murmurs.

"Yeah, like Scott; his eyes should be yellow," Derek nods, shrugging again.

"No, no, you... idiot, I mean Scott's eyes are yellow," Stiles snaps, and Derek's head whips forward to follow Stiles' line of sight. Stiles watches Scott from his place next to Derek, as Scott's eyes glow brightly as he takes his place in the front of the line. And Stiles winces when Scott shoves Jackson to the ground, and Jackson clutches his arm and Stiles vaguely wonders if it's broken. Stiles drops his clipboard and looks at Derek for a moment before running after Scott, whose on the ground and clutching his head as if her were having the mother of all migraines.

Stiles quickly clutches Scott's shoulders, "Scott, Scott, you good? Do you need to leave?"

"It's happening," Scott's voice is a growl, but it's panicked, too, so Stiles knows that his Scott is still here with him, at least for the moment, "I can't control it, Stiles, I can't-"

Stiles shoves him to his feet before shoving him forward. He looks back at Derek as he leads Scott to the locker rooms, and Derek is watching him like a predator, like he's waiting for Scott to screw up so that Derek can claw him into submission. Stiles narrows his eyes at him before looking away, and he catches Isaac's eyes this time. Isaac looks worried and confused and scared all at once, and Stiles wonders if he should feel bad about dragging Isaac out here, because he doesn't; doesn't feel bad in the slightest, so Stiles merely grins at him in hopes that it will calm his fellow omega down so that Isaac doesn't follow him and Scott and expose them.

Isaac purses his lips again before looking away, turning his attention to the alphas and betas surrounding Jackson as Coach Finstock helps him up, and he grabs a water bottle and runs it out to them, and Stiles wonders why he suddenly feels proud.

He shoves Scott into the locker rooms and yanks his helmet off to get a better look at him. Scott has grown fangs and his eyes are bright yellow and glowing, and they should be eerie, but as it stands, Stiles only finds them fascinating.

"Scott, you-"

"Get away from me!!"

Stiles jerks back in surprise at the sudden, inhuman roar that came from Scott's mouth. Stiles keeps his eyes on Scott as he hops into the rafters, all predator and no human, and Stiles backs away from him slowly. Scott growls and he follows him just as slowly, but at least Stiles' slow movements keep him calm enough to not hop back down and maul him. It's when Stiles' back smacks right into the fire extinguisher that Scott jumps from that rafters, roaring as he lands in front of Stiles, because now his prey is trapped between him and the walls and he has nowhere else to go. 

Stiles, though, simply scoffs and jerks the extinguisher from the wall. When Scott reacts to his movements, pouncing, Stiles quickly rears back and slams the end of the extinguisher as hard as he can against Scott's head. Scott growls in pain and annoyance and jerks back in what is clearly surprise, and Stiles takes the opportunity to spray Scott with the extinguisher in hopes that the freezing foam will snap his friend out of it. Stiles backs out of the room as Scott grabs his head and falls against the bench, and he clutches the extinguisher close in case he needs it again.

Stiles glances to the side when he feels eyes on him, and he shoots Derek a glare when the alpha wolf does nothing but stand there at the other end of the hall and watch him. Stiles notices his hand move and he can see claws flexing, and Stiles' glare darkens.

"Stiles...?"

Stiles turns his attention back to Scott because Scott's voice is human and confused and frightened. He glances to where Derek was standing, scoffing when he sees that the alpha has disappeared, before rushing back into the room. Scott is clutching his head, right where Stiles hit him, and he looks awful; like he just woke up from one of the night terrors Stiles used to get after his mother died.

"You tried to kill me," Stiles states casually, and Scott jerks up and looks at him in horror. Stiles drops he extinguisher and kneels in front of Scott, because Scott is his best friend and he's hurt and confused and Stiles is supposed to take care of him.

"It's anger," Stiles states, "Your pulse, more specifically. Anything that makes your pulse get out of control could trigger your shift."

"But, that's lacrosse..." Scott says and his voice his breathy and sad, and Stiles wants to help him, but he doesn't know how, "It's a violent game, it's gonna make my pulse rise." 

"Well," Stiles shrugs, "It'll be more violent when you shift on the field and maul another player. Scott, you can't play Saturday; you need to get out of the game until you learn to control your shift."

"But, I'm first line..." Scott murmurs, and he sounds so disappointed and Stiles wants to be sorry, but he can't be because Scott is a werewolf now and they have no time to worry about teenager problems.

"Not anymore, Scott," Stiles states, "You can't play the way you are now. It's selfish. It could put people in danger."

"I know..." Scott murmurs again, lips pursing sadly, "I know it's selfish, but I want to be selfish because I can finally play the game I love without passing out from asthma attacks, and I finally met someone that likes me for me and not because I can get them an in on the other, better lacrosse players, and my mom is gonna take off so she can see me play for once. Stiles, I... I want to be selfish...."

Stiles sighs and he purses his lips thoughtfully. Because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend and Stiles is supposed to take care of his best friend. And his best friend is sad and disappointed and hurt because his life is finally going the way he's always wanted it to go, but he had to lose his humanity for it and now he can't be happy because he's a werewolf now and werewolves have no time for teenage issues.

But, Stiles relents, because Stiles is smart and knows things and he notices things, and he knows that he can easily find a way to help Scott get under control.

"Okay," Stiles murmurs, sighing a little, "Okay, we'll figure it out, Scott. Promise."

And Scott beams and it makes Stiles happy, because he made Scott happy and Scott is his best friend.

Stiles grins at Scott when the alpha answers his Skype call, and Scott grins back hesitantly. Scott is nervous, still unsure if he should play, but Stiles promised him he would and Stiles never breaks his promises, so he's hopeful. He catches sight of an old, worn book in Stiles' hands because Stiles is showing it off, wants him to see it.

"What is that?" Scott asks, because he knows Stiles wants him to; that's why he's showing it to him.

"It's a book about werewolves," Stiles answers immediately, setting the book back on his desk, "It's in Old French so it's hard to read, but I already translated some of it and it mostly coincides with what Derek told me today, so it seems legit."

"Where did you find it?" Scott's brow furrows, because where in the world would Stiles find an Old French book that has factual information on werewolves? It seems improbable, but this is Stiles and Stiles is smart and he always finds answers for everything.

Stiles smirks, "I might've snuck into the librarian's office and rifled through the books she was going to recycle."

Scott shoots him a look, because Scott is a white knight and breaking the law is something he's never tolerated, and he wishes Stiles wouldn't either because Stiles is the sheriff's son and breaking the law should've been browbeaten out of him.

Stiles merely shrugs, "Hey, she was getting rid of it. I doubt she'll even notice it missing. I mean, come on, how many people in Beacon Hills would be able to read in Old French? She probably would've given it to a historian or something."

Scott sighs because Stiles is right, like always, so he relents, "And what did you learn from Derek when you talked to him today?"

"You're kind of a Beta," Stiles answers, "Because Alpha, Beta, and Omega are ranks for werewolves, not genders, and werewolves with Packs are Betas; Derek says that your wolf considers me Pack, so you'd be a Beta. He also says that the only werewolves with the ability to change a human are Alphas, and that Alphas have red eyes. He also says that he's not an Alpha, so, if he's not lying, there's a possibility of a third werewolf in town; one that is bigger, stronger, and generally better than you and Derek combined. And it may or may not be feral."

Scott sighs, letting his forehead hit his desk, and he speaks, voice muffled and filled with dread, "So, not only do I have to keep my grades up and figure out a way to play Saturday, but I have to deal with a werewolf that seems to hate me and an Alpha werewolf that's gone psychotic. Great..."

He sighs again before lifting his head, and Stiles winces sympathetically at the dark circles he sees under his friend's eyes, "And what about Jackson? Did you learn anything about him?"

"It's nothing bad," Stiles shrugs, and it's the truth because what Jackson has is harmless, just a little painful, "Separated shoulder. He shouldn't play Saturday, but knowing him, he will anyway, but he won't be as good as he usually is, so everyone will be counting on you."

Scott sighs again, a quiet whimper of frustration escaping him, and Stiles purses his lips apologetically because what he's saying isn't helping Scott, and his entire goal for this week is to help Scott get into the game Saturday. He pauses, eyeing the shadow in the corner of Scott's room for a long moment, trying to understand what he's seeing.

His eyes narrow in anger when he realizes what it is, but before he can say anything, Derek is already jerking Scott from his chair and slamming him into the wall. Stiles can hear his growls clearly, and he glares as he listens to Derek threaten Scott; stay out of the game, if you shift, I'll kill you.

When Derek hops out of the window, Scott falls back into his chair looking dazed and scared, and now Stiles is angry. Because before it was amusing because Derek's threats were subtle and barely there, but now he's crowding Scott and threatening him with death, and Stiles can't tolerate that. It's not funny anymore, and when Scott catches his eyes, Stiles cracks his knuckles and Scott knows that his friend is going to get back at Derek for this.

Stiles will make him regret ever threatening his best friend.

"Why is there a rumor going around that your loser friend isn't playing Saturday?"

Stiles grins, and glances at Lydia and takes in her frustration at him being able to keep up with her in solving their math problems as well he can. Because Lydia is a secret genius, but she's also a bit shallow and she likes to humiliate people she's upset with; and she's upset with Scott so, by extension, Stiles is her target, too.

"The rumor is all lies," Stiles murmurs, "He'll be playing Saturday and he'll win the game for Jackson." And Stiles knows it's dangerous and selfish and a little stupid, but Derek threatened his best friend and Stiles wants to make him pay for it. He wants to rub it in Derek's face, too, and having Scott play Saturday will do just that.

"It better be," Lydia sniffs, "Because after brutally injuring my boyfriend, he won't be at the top of his game Saturday, and I prefer my boyfriend at peak performance."

She says it almost seductively, and Stiles grins because he can recognize an innuendo anywhere. And Lydia is a spiteful goddess, and anyone who messes with her or her friends always ends up at the bottom of the social ladder, so Stiles has no problem in involving her, "What if I told you those rumors were going around about my loser friend because some other loser threatened him to stay out of the game?"

Lydia pauses and she looks a little surprised and a little interested, and she glances over at him, masking her emotions with disinterest, "A loser from the opposing team threatened your loser friend, is that it?"

Stiles smirks, because that lie will fit because the opposing team is already here and staying in the hotel down town, and it's also truthful because, after threatening Scott, Derek is now someone he will oppose until the alpha wolf gets his attitude checked, "You could say that."

Lydia purses her lips and rolls her eyes like the valley girl she pretends to be, "Then do something about it because if Scott doesn't play Saturday, then we'll lose. And if we lose, my boyfriend will be captain of the losing team, and I don't date losers."

"Of course," Stiles murmurs, and the two slam their pieces of chalk on the ledge of the chalkboard at the same time. Lydia sniffs at that, but Stiles merely grins at her and she rolls her eyes, and the two make their way back to their seats as the teacher praises them for their work.

"Allison," Stiles greets, voice cheerful, and Allison whips her head around to face whoever called out to her. She grins when she recognizes Stiles, and she immediately makes her way over to him. 

"Hey," She smiles, and Stiles grins back. She furrows her brows a little, and he knows that she caught the sharp calculating look in his eyes, a stark contrast to his cheerful smile and voice.

"So, listen," He states, "I am working on a bit of a pet project, and I found this book that will help me out a little. But, uh, it's in Old French. And, you know, you're French, so I was wondering if you could help me translate it a little?"

"Oh, really?" She immediately looks interested, taking hold of the book Stiles showed her. It's old and worn and the cover has a snarling wolf on it, and she rifles through the pages and takes in the words; some she recognizes, some she doesn't, and it interests her enough to want to help him out.

"I would love to help you out, Stiles," Allison agrees, "You have my number, so text me whenever you get the chance to come over and you can meet me at my house. My dad has tons of Old French books and translators, so we could probably do it quicker if we work there."

"Cool," Stiles grins, and it's a real grin because now he has someone who will help him gain more information to use at his disposal, and he is one step closer to learning about werewolves and Alphs and turning, and maybe even more.

"Allison." 

The two glance over at Scott as he rushes toward them; he looks worried and angry and frustrated, and before Stiles can ask what's wrong, he's already speaking, "Where'd you get the purse?"

"Oh, my purse?" Allison asks, lifting it a little in question, "It was in my locker. I must've left it at the party; Lydia knows my combination, so she probably brought it back for me-"

"Did she say she brought it back, or did somebody give it to her?"

Scott's voice is a mask of frustration, and Allison furrows her brows. She glances at Stiles, but Stiles simply grins at her, and she turns back to Scott, "Like who?"

"Like Derek."

"Your friend?"

"He's not my friend..." Scott rumbles and Allison's eyes widen a little. She glances at Stiles again, and Stiles shrugs, so she turns back to Scott.

"Listen, I should probably get going."

"Allison-"

"I- really gotta go. Remember, you can come over anytime you get the chance to, Stiles, and I'll help you out with that book," Her voice is annoyed and upset, and she storms off after she finishes her sentence. Stiles waves goodbye before glancing over at Scott.

"Good job," Stiles snips, and Scott rolls his eyes.

"Did you give Derek Allison's purse?" Scott questions, and Stiles shrugs.

"Derek and I met out on the patio," Stiles answers, "She must've left it out there so that she didn't have to carry it all night. She hid it under a chair, actually, so at least she's smart enough to know that drunken idiots might try to get their hands on it. Derek said he needed to use something as incentive against you, like something with Allison's scent, and I knew it was hers because I looked for an ID. Derek must've brought it back."

Stiles grins because Scott can't pull off an angry face, not really. He looks more like a pouting puppy than anything.

Scott doesn't wait for Stiles to completely stop the jeep before he's rushing out of the car and shouting for Derek. Stiles rolls his eyes because Stiles may be impatient, but Scott is even worse, and he stops the jeep and gets out. He walks behind Scott and he looks around the old, burnt, debilitated house that could've been a home once; a bright, happy home filled with family and friends and Pack before it all went up in smoke.

Stiles eyes the house and he takes in the charred remains before he drags his gaze elsewhere. He eyes the patted down dirt on the side of the house, and he smacks Scott's arm.

"What?" Scott mutters, glancing over at him.

"What's that?" Stiles points out the dirt, and Scott follows his finger. The alpha furrows his brows before glancing back at Stiles, voice filled with concern.

"It... smells like blood..." Scott murmurs.

Stiles simply smirks, "Interesting."

But, then Derek's there and he's threatening Scott, again, and Stiles wants to hit him or maim him or kill him, because Scott is his best friend and Stiles would never, ever let anyone who threatens Scott get away with it. Derek glances at him as he tears his claws through Scott's lacrosse net, snatched from the back of Stiles' jeep, and Stiles smirks at him because Derek doesn't understand just how dangerous non-Hunter humans can be, but Stiles will show him. Show him exactly what happens when people mess with his friends and why no one at school ever tries anything with him even though he's at the near bottom of the social ladder.

Stiles tilts his head when Derek continues to stare, and Derek does the same, and it makes Stiles smile, a real, cheerful smile, and Stiles doesn't know why. There is a long silence, and Scott glances between the two uncomfortably before Derek suddenly tosses the stick into the air, and he's gone by the same Scott snatches it back.

"Scott," Stiles mutters, and Scott spins around to face him, looking defeated and angry, and Stiles smiles encouragingly, "Remember, I told you I'd figure out a way to help you. So, c'mon."

"Where are we going?" Scott asks as he hops into Stiles' jeep, voice glum, and Stiles grins wider.

"You know how much I love baseball?"

Scott glances at him, a nervous glint in his eyes because he knows Stiles, and he knows Stiles is planning something. Something that will probably end with Scott getting hurt in one way or another, because Stiles has done that before. Especially when he's angry with Scott about something.

"Yes...?" He says slowly, brows furrowed and voice confused.

"Well, we're gonna play a different version of it," Stiles smiles, sweet and cheerful, and it makes Scott want to run. And Scott wishes he did run when Stiles parks in the middle of nowhere deep in the woods and duct tapes his hands together behind his back before walking back over to his jeep and snatching a baseball bat from the back.

"What are you doing...?" Scott's voice is very nearly panicked, but Stiles merely smiles at him, bouncing a baseball up and down in his hands.

"So, we've already figured out that it's your pulse rising that causes the shift," Stiles states, sounding like a teacher standing in front of his class, only a teacher that likes his job a bit too much, "So, we're going to work on getting your pulse under control. Reign in your anger, and if you attack me, Scott, I will beat you with this bat."

Scott swallows thickly before he nods, determination entering his eyes because he's already attacked Stiles once, and Stiles is his best friend ever and he never wants to do anything that will hurt Stiles.

"Ready?"

Scott nods, and then Stiles is suddenly pelting him with ball after ball, batting them as hard as he can, and he can't even bring himself to wonder where the hell Stiles got all these baseballs (probably stole them from school, he thinks vaguely). One hits his head, another his shoulder, and when he tries to protest, one smacks straight into his groin and everything goes white for a second before red enters his vision. He pants and growls and he digs his head into his arms, and he can't remember when he broke through the tape, and he feels so hot and it's worse than his first rut, and his first rut was painful.

"Scott," Stiles' voice brings him back and he glances at the hand entering his vision, and his breathing calms and the heat recedes, "You okay? You started shifting..."

"I can't... control it, Stiles..." Scott pants, and he wants to sob because if he can't do it, then Derek will kill him.

"Okay, look," Stiles' voice is firm and soothing, and Scott looks back up at him because Stiles always has all the answers and he's always helped Scott out of the worst situations, "Think about Allison, okay? Think about Allison because you like her, and you don't ever want to make her scared of you, and you never, ever want to do anything that will hurt her, right? Just think about Allison."

Scott does; he thinks about her smile and her brown eyes, and how she always looks happy to see him even when Lydia doesn't, and he thinks about how she smells like cinnamon and sugar, and he barely notices when Stiles pelts him with another ball, then another. He feels pain, but his anger recedes when he thinks about how worried she had been for him at the party even though she didn't really know him then. He feels a brief heat before it's gone again, and he whips his head up to face Stiles in amazement and surprise.

Stiles grins at him, "You did it, man. You barely shifted. We just keep doing this till Saturday until you get it perfect, and you should be good to go."

Scott beams, "This is perfect! God, thank you, Stiles!"

"Slow your roll, bud," Stiles cuts him off, "I still got a job for you to do."

"Why," Scott asks slowly, voice low and confused and a little frustrated, "Do you want me to look through the morgue?"

Stiles merely grins at him, giving away nothing, and Scott really wishes he knew what his fiend of a friend is planning, "You said you smelled blood, Scott. I just want to test a theory. Now go sniff the dead girl and see if the scents are the same."

Scott sighs, shooting Stiles a look, but Stiles merely smiles back at him, and Scott relents. He glances around before walking through the double doors, following the hospital signs that point into the direction of the morgue. Stiles chuckles a little, because a frustrated Scott is a funny Scott, and he takes a seat in the waiting room.

He glances up when heels clack before stopping right in front of him, and he raises a brow at Lydia. She crosses her arms and pops her hip and throws her hair back in the most haughty manner Stiles has ever seen her do anything.

"Did you solve your loser friend's problem?" She sniffs, and Stiles grins up at her.

"Almost," He states, smirking, knowing very well how Lydia will react to such a word.

"Almost," She snips, "Isn't good enough."

Stiles merely continues grinning up at her, and she rolls her eyes before turning her attention Jackson as he makes his way into the waiting room. Jackson shoots him a look, but Stiles merely smiles and waves his fingers at him, and the alpha boy rolls his eyes before turning his attention to his girlfriend, and Stiles thinks he and Lydia are perfect for each other. 

He snickers at Lydia as she goads Jackson on before looking up at Scott as the boy rushes into the room.

Stiles raises his brows.

"It's the same," Scott sighs, "The scent is the same."

Stiles smirks.

"I still don't understand why we're doing this..." Scott sighs as he and Stiles grab their shovels from the back of Stiles' jeep. His friend has been behaving oddly - well, not exactly odd, because this is the kind of behavior Stiles showcases whenever he's really pissed - ever since Derek showed up in his room that night, and Scott really wishes Stiles would start letting him in on his plans.

"Lots of reason, Scotty," Stiles says so cheerfully, and Scott is actually starting to feel a little bit sorry for Derek, "Now help me dig."

"But, what if Derek shows up?"

"Then run."

"But, what if he catches us?"

"See, Scott," Stiles smiles, "You're assuming we're going to be running in the same direction. No, you're going to go one way, and I'm going to go the other, and you're a werewolf, so he'll be more inclined to go after you, and if he catches you, too bad."

"I don't like that plan, Stiles," Scott whines.

Stiles shrugs dispassionately, "Too bad."

Scott rolls his eyes, but he continues to help Stiles dig, because Stiles is smart and he knows things other people don't and he knows how to solve mysteries better than any detective Scott knew. And, if Stiles wants to solve a mystery, he won't stop until he does, and he'll drag you into it no matter how much you protest, so Scott thinks it's better to just give in now and get it over with. So, they dig, and when they come across something beneath their shovels, they jump down and brush the dirt away. Scott jumps back at the sight of half a wolf in shock, but Stiles merely looks over it curiously.

"I thought you said the scent was the same," Stiles murmurs, looking over the body, and Scott wonders how his friend is not sick at the sight.

"I-It was!" Scott protests, "The scent was exactly the same!"

"Good," Stiles murmurs, "I got what I need, then."

Scott raises his brows in confusion, but then Stiles is looking over a flower near the upturned dirt with more fascination than Scott feels a flower deserves.

"What is it?" He asks, because he, like Stiles, doesn't like not knowing things, but he's not as smart as Stiles so he can't catch on as quickly, and it makes him a bit more impatient.

"Wolfsbane," Stiles answers.

Scott raises his brows, "What?"

"Wolfsbane is a plant," Stiles speaks slowly and precisely, as if he were speaking to a toddler and not a teenager, and Scott glowers at him, "It is a poisonous plant, and it is supposedly one of the werewolves' few weaknesses."

"Okay," Scott nods, "So why is it out here?"

"Don't know, Scott, but I am very disappointed in you," Stiles sniffs, "And your lack of pop culture knowledge."

Stiles plucks the flower and he furrows his brows at the sight of a rope tied to it. He pulls at the rope and he follows the pattern the rope makes in the dirt as Scott watches him, and he vaguely realizes the pattern the rope makes is a spiral. But, then Scott is crying out for him and Stiles spins around and catches the cold, dead eyes of the girl within the grave.

And Stiles grins, because now he has exactly what he needs to make Derek pay.

Derek thinks Stiles is actually kind of beautiful. It doesn't say much, though, because he thinks lots of people are beautiful, and he might be more inclined to like Stiles a little more if the human would quit provoking him. But, then again, Stiles fighting back is one of the reasons Derek thinks he's beautiful because he's never been attracted to the omegas that just take everything that's given to them. And Stiles is much better at fighting back than most omegas, because his bite is worse than his bark, and Derek knows this because he saw the way Stiles practically bashed his friend's head in with a fire extinguisher when Scott lost control.

And he's smart, too, and Derek knows he's smart because he was able to keep up with and retain every single piece of information Derek threw his way about werewolves. No other human new to this life was able to do that, at least no human that Derek met. And Stiles even added his own bit of information in, and Derek was surprised to hear how right he was about werewolves and about what's legend and what's not.

But, still, Stiles can be wrong, Derek realizes, because he's currently sitting in the back of a police car because he's being arrested for murdering his own sister. And Derek wishes Stiles would mind his own business, no matter how attractive he is or how good his pre-heat scent smelled, because he'll never be able to walk around town for groceries after this because everyone's going to look at him like he's the psychotic Alpha running around Beacon Hills.

And Stiles doesn't know when to quit, Derek realizes, because he's hopping into the police car and twisting his body around to face him through the cage that separates them.

"So," Stiles says, and his voice is casual and smug all at once, and Derek wishes it were appropriate to slap omegas, "That girl... she was a werewolf. You keep talking about an Alpha running around town, and you also said that Alphas can have their power stolen. You also speak very highly of Packs, so it's a little unusual for you to be running around without one. Unless that girl was in your Pack. And the only other surviving member of the Hale family that left Beacon Hills was Laura Hale. Your sister."

Derek glowers at him darkly, but Stiles merely smiles and continues on, "So, here's what I think. I think your sister got mauled by an Omega wolf, and I think that Omega wolf stole her Alpha power. Am I right so far? So now, you're here trying to figure out who and what killed her. It would explain a few things, because I doubt you would've come back to Beacon Hills otherwise. What do you think about what I think?"

His voice is cheerful and sweet and Derek sputters at him, because this omega wasn't wrong and assuming things about him like he thought he was. He knew exactly what was going on, but then...

"You... you know I didn't kill her, but you called the police anyway?"

Stiles grins, and it's all teeth like a shark, but his voice is still sweet as can be, and it's beautiful, "I don't like it when people threaten my friends, Derek. But, hey, don't worry. There's no evidence, so you'll be outta here by Saturday. After the game."

Derek gapes, and he falls back against his seat limply as Stiles gets jerked out of the car by the sheriff. This omega got him arrested for murder, knowing full well that Derek is innocent, solely because he threatened his friend and told him he couldn't play that stupid, stupid lacrosse game Saturday, and Derek wonders why he finds that vindictiveness and darkness and craziness so beautiful on Stiles.

And Derek wonders what deity he pissed off to deserve to constantly be attracted to the psychotic ones.

"Look at this."

Lydia rolls her eyes upward, staring at the lacrosse glove Jackson has shoved in her face disinterestedly.

"Why," Her voice is low and filled with attitude and disdain, "Are you handing me this when you know very well I don't like to be handed things?"

"Will you just look at it?" Jackson demands, voice frustrated, and Lydia rolls her eyes and snatches the glove from him. She looks at the small holes in the fingers of the glove before rolling her eyes back toward Jackson.

"Well," She snips, "It looks like Scott needs to cut his nails."

Jackson stares at her thoughtfully, and Lydia rolls her eyes again, "You want to find out what's going on, don't you?"

"You do, too," Jackson shoots back, and Lydia rolls her eyes yet again because Jackson knows her too well, and he knows how much she loves solving puzzles and equations and mysteries, but he's Jackson and he's supposed to know her that well, so she relents.

"Fine," She shrugs, "Sticking close to him will help us learn faster. And pushing our way in on Scott and Allison's little date is one way to stick close to Scott."

Jackson narrows his eyes at her, looking annoyed, like he's dreading it already, "You want to go out on a double date with McCall?"

When Stiles gets home that night, he grins up at Derek as the alpha wolf stands from his seat on the end of Stiles' bed, and Stiles wonders why he's happy and not upset that the werewolf broke into his room and waited for him.

"Alright," Derek sighs, rolling his eyes in defeat and anger and indignation, "I won't mess with Scott anymore. Just try not to get me arrested for murdering my sister again."

"You're only allowed to defend yourself if he goes crazy, understand? Because I can get you arrested for so much more, my friend," Stiles states, brushing past him and tossing the keys to his jeep on his desk. He pauses, though, when he see the blue wolfsbane sitting in a rather pretty, white vase, and he whips around to face Derek.

The werewolf shrugs, not meeting his eyes, muttering, "An apology."

Stiles grins, because wolfsbane is deadly and beautiful all at once, and he takes the vase and sets it on his end table, brushing past Derek to do so. 

"Careful," Derek murmurs and Stiles pauses because it's right next to his ear, and he can feel Derek's breath on him, and when did Derek get that close, "It's poisonous."

Stiles glances at him, but Derek is already brushing past him and hopping out the window. And if Stiles moves the wolfsbane, yet again, into a spot where it can be seen from all angles of the room, it's not because he likes that Derek got him a present.

Not at all.