The Huntress {Stiles Stilinski}

Shape Shifted - There's another werewolf

  Stiles' P.O.V.

Rae keeps dipping in and out of sleep, her head on my chest as we attempt to share my single bed again. My hand is splayed out on her back, her body rising and falling with every slow breath. I'm trying to contain my anger at the Argents for doing what they did to her, but every time I try and push it down, I just get angrier. She suddenly stirs, thrashing her legs about as if she's running. I shake her gently, and her eyes spring open, and she's panting.

She groans, stretching out. "Sorry," she chuckles. "Was I talking again?"

"No," I answer back, smoothing her hair out of her face. "No, this time it was running."

Rae shoves her head into my chest, laughing quietly. "Oh, god. Have you gotten any sleep?"

"A little," I shrug. "No big deal, only like two or three hours. I'm sure I'll survive."

She chuckles, reaching up and running her hands over my hair and down to my ears, where she gently strokes the top of them. "Fancy ditching school?"

I snort. "Raelynn Argent, rebel." She rolls her eyes, wriggles and kisses me. "Oh, you're being serious?"

"Yeah," Rae nods. "No way am I ready to go back and face them."

"That's why my dad's gonna sort something out."

"Stiles, let's be real," she sighs, playing with my shirt. "Your dad knows as well as you and I do that there's only a certain amount he can do. Everything else needs my parents' permission."

"We'll figure something out," I shrug. "He's the sheriff."

"There is a limit to his authority, Stiles."

"Hey, come on," I say, rubbing her back with both my hands. "Look, we'll figure something out. They can't stop you from staying with us."

"I think my dad would rather see me six feet underground right now," she murmurs.

I turn to look at my clock, seeing that it's 6:30. "We should probably get up now."

"Probably," she says, her words muffled from pressing her face into my chest. I move so she slips and lands on the floor, grumbling curses at me as I help her up. Her phone rings, and she dashes for it. "It's Allison."

"Answer it," I urge. "She's not then one who tried to shoot you dead on the front lawn, is she?"

"Gee, what a way to start my day," Rae hisses, and I laugh as she swats at me. "Stiles! Stiles! Don't come in, I'm gonna get dressed." I wave my hand at her as I grab my clothes, heading into the spare bedroom to change. When she comes out, she's dressed and ready. "Alli said she's gonna come and pick me up so we can take the long way and get Lydia."

"Okay," I smile, leaning towards her. She's stood on the second to last stair, and I'm stood on the floor, but she's only just my height. "Hey, Shorty." She ruffles my hair and kisses me, hard.

"Woah, okay," a voice says. We jump apart to see Dad retreating with his coffee. "Sorry, sorry. Carry on."

I groan quietly and turn back to Rae as she laughs, kissing me once more before swinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out the front door. She waves as she leaves, and I wave after her. For some reason, that felt really domestic. And I loved it.


"I'm serious," Scott says, using exaggerated hand gestures to make his point as we walk down the corridor towards the boys' locker room. "It's not like the last full moon. I don't feel the same."

"Oh, does that include the urge to maim and kill people like me?" I ask.

"I swear I don't have the urge to maim and kill you," Scott says honestly as we walk in, dodging bodies.

"You know, you say that now but then the full moon goes up and out come the fangs and the claws and there's a lot of howling and screaming and running everywhere, okay? And it's very stressful on me and so yes I'm still locking you up. Don't worry, I have to lock Rae up, too."

"Okay, fine," Scott sighs. "But I do think I'm in more control now. Especially since things are good with Allison."

"First, I'm not comfortable talking about this because you know how protective Rae is of her sister and it's just weird," I stress. "Second, I'm aware of how good things are with Allison."

"They're really good," Scott answers, leaning against my locker in a kind of dream state.

"I - thank you, I know."

"I mean like . . . really good," he sighs.

"All right, I get it!" I snap. "Just please shut the hell up before I have the urge to maim and kill myself."

Scott chuckles. "How's things with you and Rae? How is she? Allison told me what happened last night."

I sigh. "She's stressed. My dad's promised her he'll do something, but without her parents' permission there isn't a lot we can do."

"She's brave," he nods. "She'll be fine." He claps his hands together subtly. "All right, did you get something better than handcuffs this time?"

"Yeah, much better," I reply, swinging my bag off of my shoulder and opening my locker. However, I forgot that I stored the chains in there, so lots and lots of thick chain come pouring out. It just seems like a never-ending amount. Everyone's heads are turned this way, and Coach walks over slowly; Scott and I avoid eye contact.

"Part of me wants to ask," he says, chewing gum. "The other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So - I'm gonna walk away."

"That's good," I say. "That's a wise choice, Coach." Scott gives me a look, and I roll my head, bending to pick up the large amount of chains. Scott helps me, but his eyes suddenly flash amber, and I stare at him. "You okay?" No response. His eyes are flicking around the room. "Scott?"

"There's another," he says quickly. "In here. Right now."

"Another what?" I ask, completely clueless.

"Another werewolf." We both look around, but there's no one distinct sticking out in the crowd.


Raelynn's P.O.V.

Lydia, Allison and I are walking up the steps to the front of the school. I have a free period first, so I'm going to go and watch the lacrosse practice while doing some overdue homework. "You really don't remember anything?" I ask Lydia.

"They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying 'We have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days'," Lydia explains. I nod, not really understanding but not having the energy to shut her up. "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds."

"Are you ready for this?" Allison asks as we reach the front doors.

"Please," Lydia scoffs. "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer." Allison's eyes drop as Lydia turns around, and I link my arm through hers and give her a small smile as we walk into the corridors, but Lydia's stopped; every single person is staring at her, their mouths open. "Maybe it's the nine pounds."

I glare at a few people who stare at Lydia for a little too long, but she flicks her hair and walks ahead of us, showing she's completely fine. Allison and I smile as we follow her, and we stop as we have to separate ways. "You're gonna be okay today. Other than Lydia, no one will mention Kate."

Alli scoffs. "Doubt it. It's become a daily thing." We both chuckle. "Are you gonna be okay? What with last night and all-"

"I have a very loving boyfriend willing to take me in for a while," I smile. She returns it as I shove her a little. "Now go to class. I'm gonna be fine." We walk off slowly, and as I turn to make sure she's going, she turns and smiles at me, giving a small wave.

I rush out to the lacrosse filed, not wanting to miss the practice. That's usually when the funniest things happen. Scott and Stiles are sat on a bench talking quietly as I head over. Stiles suddenly stands, running off in the opposite direction. "Something I said?" I suggest.

Scott laughs and shakes his head, and I take my usual seat just one bench behind. "There's another werewolf on the team. I caught it's scent in the locker room, but I couldn't tell who it was. Stiles had an idea, and now I believe he's putting that idea into action."

Stiles comes running back over, sitting beside Scott and dumping his things on the ground. "Told Coach you're switching with Danny for the day." He leans back, pulling me forwards and kissing me. I make a small surprised sound as he does, but I kiss him back.

"But I hate playing goal," Scott moans.

"Remember when I said I had an idea?" Stiles says, and Scott nods. "This is the idea."

"Oh," Scott says in realization.

"There we go," I giggle.

"What's the idea?"

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes," Stiles sighs.

"Let's go!" Coach shouts. "Line it up! Faster! Make daddy proud." I cringe when he says that, and he must see me because he calls my name. "Argent! Get over here." I hurry over and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I want you to throw the balls to the boys." I snort as he says that. "Something funny?" I shake my head. "Then get to it."

I pick up a ball and throw it to the first guy in line, who runs forward. Scott suddenly comes out of the goal and hits him, knocking him to the floor. I put my hand to my mouth and turn to Stiles, who is watching but has closed his eyes for this precise second. "Scott! Get up!"

"McCall!" Coach shouts. "Ususally the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal."

"Yes, Coach," Scott says, running back into the goal.

"Okay, let's try it again," Coach says, waving his hand at me. I lift the ball and throw it, and the next player catches it and runs forward. But Scott comes running out from the goal again, charging into the new player.

"What the hell, man?" the guy shouts as he recovers from being thrown over Scott's shoulder. Coach throws his hands by his head as my hand flies to my mouth again, and Coach walks forward.

"McCall!" he shouts. "The position's goal keeper. Not goal abandoner."

"Sorry, Coach," Scott says quickly, jogging back into the goal.

"Let's go!" he yells at me, making me jump. I throw the ball again, but Scott does exactly the same thing. This guy lands on his front, groaning as he lands. My eyes drift to Coach, who stamps his foot onto the ground, and then to Stiles, who has a scared and shocked expression on his face. Coach walks over to Stiles, pulling his head closer to him by grabbing his helmet. "Stilinski, what the hell is wrong with your friend?"

"Uh, he's failing two classes," Stiles lists. "He's a little socially awkward and if you look close enough, his jaw line's kind of uneven."

"That's interesting," he answers, pushing Stiles away and walking back to stand beside me. "Let's fire it up." I throw a ball to the next player, which I can tell is Danny, and he runs forward but Scott attacks him, too.

"It's Armani," Danny says as I hear Scott sniff.

"Huh?" Scott asks.

"My aftershave," Danny clarifies. "Armani."

"Oh. It's nice."

"McCall!" Coach yells. "You come out of that goal one more time and you'll be doing suicide runs till you die. It'll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach." Scott looks at the rest of the players, and I notice Jackson is next.

"Uh, Coach, my shoulder's hurting," Jackson says. "I'm gonna - I'm gonna sit this one out." He walks off, giving me a smirk as he passes, but I respond by rolling my eyes at him.

I haven't ever seen the next kid before, but he's breathing really heavily and Stiles has his eye on him. I watch as Scott runs at him after the kid has caught the ball, the defense not even bothering anymore. Scott and the kid collide, and they go flying through the air. They land on all fours, and I know my eyes are glowing blue. Coach blows his whistle, and my eyes go back to normal. I can hear the static of a radio, and I turn to see Sheriff and two of his colleagues walking across the field to us.

He gives me a small smile as he passes, and I return it. Coach disperses the practice as Sheriff takes the kid aside. I stand with Scott and Stiles by the benches, my hands in my jacket pocket. Scott is listening into what the Sheriff is saying, and I'm trying to, but it's not working.

"His father's dead," Scott says. "They think he was murdered."

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" I ask.

"I'm not sure, why?"

"Because they can lock him a holding cell for 24 hours," Stiles says, turning to face Scott.

Scott's eyes widen slightly. "Like, overnight?"

"During the full moon," I add.

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?"

"People, good," Stiles nods. "Werewolves, probably not that good."

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah."

"He does." Isaac turns around to look at us as he gets taken away by Sheriff and the two other police officers.


Chemistry class is dragging, like really dragging. Stiles is sat on the bench behind me and Scott, not having to talk loudly because we can hear him just fine. Mr. Harris is writing something on the board, and we're writing things from the textbook.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Scott asks. So that must be the kid's name.

"Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you it could kill you," Stiles says quietly. "And maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

"Doesn't being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?"

"Well, not unless they have solid evidence," I say. "Or a witness."

"Wait," Stiles says, turning round to see Danny sat alone. "Danny. Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office talking to your dad," Danny answers.

"What?" I ask, turning myself. "Why?"

"Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac," he says, turning back to his textbook.

"Witness," Scott says.

"We gotta get to the principal's office," Stiles says.

"How?" Scott asks.

I hold up my hands. "Leave this to me."

"Everyone please turn to page 73," Harris says from the front. I silently rip out a page from my notebook and scrunch it up into a ball. I launch the ball at Harris, and it just happens to hit in in the back of the head. He flinches and turns as people snigger around the classroom. "Who in the hell did that?" He looks directly at us, and I point my finger at Scott, who points his finger at Stiles, who then points his at me.

Cut to ten minutes later, and we're sat in the uncomfy chairs outside the principal's office. Scott has his head against the glass as I lean forwards, my head in my hands. Stiles puts his hand on my back, leaning close to my ear.

"You okay?" he whispers.

I nod. "Must be the full moon."

"Wait, so are you telling me that you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?" Sheriff asks from inside the office. I spring to attention, leaning back to press my ear against the window like Scott.

"Hitting him? He was kicking the crap out of him," Jackson answers calmly.

"Did you ever say anything to anyone?" Sheriff asks, sounding slightly shocked. "A teacher, parents, anyone?"

"Nope. It's not my problem." Wow. And there I was thinking that maybe Jackson cared about at least one person. Clearly the guy's heart only beats for himself.

"No, no, of course not," Sheriff says after a slight pause. "You know, it's funny that the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it." I feel like he could be referencing me, but he could just be talking about Isaac or kids in general.

"Yeah," Jackson says slowly. "Wait, what?"

"I think we're done here," Sheriff answers. I snort as I realize he was talking about how Jackson would deserve to be beaten. Sheriff walks out of the office, and Stiles suddenly spasms, grabbing a magazine and holding it in front of his face. Scott and I roll our eyes as I smile at Sheriff and give a small wave.

"Hi, Rae," Sheriff says. "Scott." His eyebrow raises slightly as he walks off, shaking his head gently.

Stiles puts the magazine down when the principal walks out, and we all stand up, swinging our bags over our shoulders. I drop my bag when I see who the principal is. It's Gerard. And he's staring directly at me with a nasty looking smile.

"Come on in," he says, indicating for us all to go in. I grab my bag and follow the boys in, praying that maybe this time I won't be stabbed with a knife or any other weapon.