Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven
Morning came, and the cops had arrived about an hour ago. They had found enough proof and more to claim Derek as the guilty party and were herding him into the cruiser right before our eyes. Scott and I were sitting on the hood of my Impala, watching as one of the deputies dragged Derek to the car and locked him inside. Scott looked down, but I held Derek's cold stare, as if he were silently threatening to kill me. He finally smirked, satisfied with his effect on his fellow werewolf, and turned away from us.
A few crime scene investigators were analyzing the area, snapping pictures and taking samples. Scott tapped me on the arm and nodded over to Stiles, who was hurrying across the woods and towards the cruiser.
I shook my head, trying to catch his attention. He looked at us, stopping for a second.
Scott shook his head, whispering. "No!"
But Stiles ignored it and got inside, closing the door behind him.
I swear he's gonna get killed someday, and I will not be surprised. That kid needs to be on a leash.
We turned away, acting as if we didn't see anything.
"What an idiot." I cursed, running a hand through my hair.
"Derek is gonna eat him." Scott hung his head.
"Listen in, stupid." I nudged him.
Scott nodded, and turned his ear towards the cruiser, citing the conversation. "Okay, just so you know I'm not afraid of you...Derek didn't say anything...Okay, maybe I am. Doesn't matter. I just wanna know something. The girl you killed, she was a werewolf. She was a different kind, wasn't she? I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf, and I know Scott can't do that. Is that why you killed her?...Why are you so worried about me when it's your friend who's the problem? When he shifts on the field, what do you think they're gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on? I can't stop him from playing, but you and Osiris can. And trust me, you want to."
I let the words sink in, but then suddenly, we saw Stiles get pulled out of the cruiser by his dear ol' daddy, Mr. Sheriff Stilinski himself. He dragged Stiles away from the car, putting his hands on his hips.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sheriff demanded.
Stiles sighed. "I'm just trying to help."
"Uh-huh. Okay, well, how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this." Mr. Stilinski demanded.
Stiles sighed, turning sassy all of a sudden, and gestured towards the woods. "We were looking for Scott's inhaler"
Sheriff Stilinski nodded, still not buying it. "Which he dropped when?"
"The other night." Stiles responded.
"The other night when you were out here looking for the first half of the body." His dad raised his eyebrow.
"Yes." Stiles nodded.
"The night that you told me you were alone, and Scott was at home." The sheriff mused.
I face-palmed. Stiles is the biggest idiot of all idiots.
"Yes. No. Oh, crap." Stiles hung his head.
Mr. Stilinski nodded. "So you lied to me."
"That depends on how you define lying. " Stiles pointed out.
"Well, I define it on not telling the truth. How do you define it?" His father frowned.
Stiles motioned a horizontal line with his hands. "Reclining your body in a horizontal position?"
Smooth, Stiles. Smooth.
"Get the hell out of here." Sheriff Stilinski barked, pushing him a bit towards my car.
Stiles nodded. "Absolutely."
He finally got towards us, and I smacked him on the head for good measure. "Nice going, idiot. Why the hell were you even in there?"
Stiles rubbed his head and climbed in between Scott and I, sulking on the way home. Scott was typing furiously on his phone, scrolling past a few paragraphs.
"I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial." He shook his head desperately.
"Just keep looking." I egged him on, keeping my eyes on the road.
"Maybe it's like a ritual or something. Like maybe they bury you as a wolf. Or maybe it's like a special skill, you know? Like something you have to learn." Stiles offered.

Scott sighed. "I'll put it on my to-do list, right underneath figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves―" Stiles ranted.

"Okay! Stop it!" Scott yelled.

"Stop what?" Stiles asked.

"Stop saying 'werewolves'! Stop enjoying this so much!" He snarled.

I turned to him. "Are you okay?"

"No! No, I'm not! I'm so far from being okay." He barked.

"You know you're gonna have to accept this, Scott, sooner or later." I growled.

He shook his head. "I can't."

I glared at him. "Well, you're gonna have to!"

"No! I can't breathe." He grunted.

I swerved the car, looking at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa."

"Osiris! Pull over!" Scott demanded.

"Why? What's happening?" I worried.

Scott snatched away Stiles' backpack, tearing it open. Wolfsbane. "You kept it!?"

"What was I supposed to do with it?" Stiles yelled back.

"Ugh! Stop the car!" Scott roared, his eyes flashing yellow.

I stepped on the breaks, the car screeching to a halt. "Okay!"

I grabbed the back pack, running into the woods and flinging it as far away as I could. "Okay. We're good, you―"

I turned, seeing Stiles frightened out of his skin, Scott's door open and his presence long gone. "Scott?"

"Fuck." I cursed, climbing inside the car.

Stiles was dialing the dispatch, putting it on speaker.

"Stiles, you know you can't call the dispatch when I'm on duty." A woman's voice answered.

"I just need to know if you've gotten any odd calls." Stiles begged.

"Odd how?" She responded

Stiles hesitated. "Uh, like an odd person, or a dog-like individual roaming the streets."

"I'm hanging up on you now." She droned.

"No! Wait, wait, wait!" Stiles yelled.

"Goodbye." The line clicked dead.

He threw his phone down in frustration, looking at the picture of a werewolf carrying a woman's body. We knew exactly where he was.

Allison's.

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