Library • Sciles

Chapter 2

After about a half hour in the Jeep spent jamming out to Stiles' personal favorite CD mix - For Late Night Adventures - the duo finally pulled up into a secluded, off-the-beaten-path area of Beacon Hills Preserve.

"Are you sure we're doing this?" Scott asked, turning to look at Stiles. Stiles, who had already turned visibly pale, puffed out his chest and responded, "Once in a lifetime opportunity to do something in this deadbeat town; we gotta take it, even if I-- we're-- terrified."

"Maybe this time your grand scheme won't get us in trouble," Scott responded, hopping out of the Jeep, knowing full well Melissa would end up putting him under house arrest within 48 hours. 

The brisk night air wrapped around Scott and Stiles as they began to walk together into the heart of the woods.

"Do you have any idea where we're even headed? We're somewhere in the middle of all these damn trees, how are we even supposed to get back out?"

"Stop pummeling me with questions," Stiles responded, avoiding Scott's interrogation while climbing over a small rise in the ground. 

"Ah, your usual attention to detail. My favorite Stiles trademark," Scott responded sarcastically, shivering and stepping over broken twigs to avoid making a sound. The two continued on for a little while, trampling aimlessly on the barren November ground. 

Suddenly, a flash of light spotted out of the corner of Stiles' eye caused him to tackle Scott and send them both hurtling towards the frozen dirt. Scott was about to cry out when Stiles, knowing better, clamped his hand over Scott's mouth, whispering in his ear to be quiet.

"It's my dad and his team. Don't say anything unless you want to be hauled out of here in the backseat of his car."

Scott, underneath Stiles' weight, tried to catch his breath. He scrambled for the inhaler in his jacket pocket, but felt nothing there. Looking up, Scott saw his inhaler lying just a few feet away - in the light cast by the policemen's flashlights. Trying to remain calm, Scott took his best attempt at deep breaths while remaining as silent as possible. 

Unfortunately, it was too late. The momentary fumble had been picked up by the Sheriff, who knew all too well that his son would likely be out tonight trying to do his father's job for him. 

Sighing and beaming the flashlight on his surroundings, the Sheriff called out, "Stiles, that better not be you. If it is, come out now and I'll go easier on you than if I find out you were here later. And trust me, I will find out one way or another."

Stiles knew full well what his father's words meant and popped out from the shallow ditch in which him and Scott were lying in, motionlessly.

"It's me, Dad. Just me. Don't worry, I can explain. And it's not even that late--"

"Stiles, save it. Go get in the car and don't move, otherwise you'll really get it." The Sheriff took his son by the collar of his shirt and dragged him towards the squad car. 

"Where's your usual partner in crime? Where's Scott? Scott, are you out there?" the Sheriff called into the darkness.

"NO! No, he's not, it's just me, Dad. You know these things are usually my idea, and Scott didn't really want to come because of lacrosse tryouts."

"Scott. The son I should have had," the Sheriff said, half jokingly. "Let's go home, Stiles. I'll drive you over to your Jeep so you can pick it up, and then it'll be straight to bed. I'll deal with you in the morning or something." He rubbed his face tiredly. "C'mon team, we can search the woods tomorrow morning. It'll be much easier to find the body when we're all rested and searching in daylight."

"Uh, you're actually looking for half a body, Dad."

"Shut up, Stiles."

The police team packed into their cars and one by one, left the woods, leaving Scott alone in the ditch where he remained until he was certain of complete silence. Immediately afterwards, the woods grew ominous and eerie, sending Scott into a mild panic and loss of direction. 

Scott heaved himself off the ground and brushed himself off. He lurched towards the inhaler and blew off the dried leaves that had covered it; upon trying to take a breath, he also learned it was empty. Feeling a stitch in his side, Scott tried to level his breathing by himself and hobble in the direction he thought him and Stiles had come to get back onto the main road. 

The moment that changed Scott's world was a moment blurry, unfocused. The very instant he realized what was happening, it was over and for the second time that night, Scott was left alone, in pain, and helpless, lying among the leaves and dirt of the floor in the woods. 

He had seen an almost shapeless creature lurking in the distant shadows, but decided that it was only a police officer or something of their equipment left behind. After all, the darkness combined with Scott's inability to focus on anything other than getting out and catching his breath helped him toss the being out of his mind. 

Scott managed to not pay much attention to whatever the thing was in his peripheral vision until it was looming upon him. Already staggering from breathlessness, Scott was weakened, vulnerable. The creature tackled him to the ground and bit into his side, sending shooting pains up and down the right side of his body. He tried to scream out for help, but knew it was pointless. 

The creature, to Scott's surprise,  did not stay to finish him off, but rather ran off into the woods after wounding Scott's side in a single spot. He leaned over to look at the bite marks, but couldn't see anything except patches of blood forming on his shirt in the darkness. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable, but Scott knew he had to suck up his courage and haul himself out of there to get home, even if it meant crawling on all fours.

There go my chances at first line, he thought to himself.

The pain soon peaked and then began to ease, allowing Scott to limp his way out of the woods and eventually home. By the time he reached his room, it was well past midnight, and a wave of exhaustion overtook him. Having a nurse for a mother, Scott knew how to take care of his wounds and fought through sleepy, drooping eyes to cleanse and bandage the bite marks with gauze. Somehow, the pain had diminished to a faint dull ache, which he managed to ignore and fall into bed.

Stiles, of course, sent Scott a message in every way he could - voicemail, text, Facebook message - and tried to stay up and wait for a response, but a mix of worry, weariness, and a warm bed sent him straight to sleep.

--

So so excited to start this fic up again! I got a fresh wave of new ideas and am excited to have already started working on Chapter 3!!

In the next chapter, we'll get to meet Allison and watch Scott's routine life begin to unravel for the destiny the bite has brought him.

Thanks again for all the support, reads, and favorites, it means a whole lot!! Much love to all you guys!