Transformed (Incomplete)

Second Chance at First Line, Part VI

    "Why are we here?" I ask Stiles as he drives the Jeep up to Derek Hale's house.
    "To watch Derek get arrested. I already told you," Stiles says.
    "Why do we have to watch him get arrested?" I inquire further, leaning into the front seat.
    "So that he knows it was us," Scott says, turning around to look at me. "Shouldn't you be wearing a seatbelt?"
    "Isn't that the opposite of what we want? If he really murdered that girl, he's gonna murder us for busting him," I explain, ignoring his seatbelt command. "Sometimes I don't understand you guys."
    Stiles parks the Jeep and we get out. Scott and Stiles stand around the Jeep, but I linger back in the woods. Derek comes out with his hands cuffed behind his back. He looks right at Stiles and my brother and then further back at me. I swallow heavily, stepping behind a tree as guilt washes over me. I shouldn't feel guilty. This guy had a dead body buried right next to his house. I peek back at Derek as a white-haired cop leads him to the Sheriff's car and puts him inside, closing the door. I see Stiles has left Scott alone by his Jeep to walk towards the car. Stiles looks at Scott and Scott shakes his head. Stiles ignores his advice and climbs in the front seat of the car.
    "Oh god," my brother says, turning around to face the opposite way and look away from Stiles. His eyes roam over the trees before landing on me. "Emerson?" he asks, squinting into the woods. "What are you doing?"
    "I don't want to be associated with -" I start to gesture towards the disaster that's sure to follow Stiles' confrontation and then I see the Sheriff heading towards his car. "Oh no."
    "What?" Scott asks. He turns, following my gaze.
    "Hey! Ow!" Stiles says as his dad pulls him out of the car. "Ow, ow, ow."
    "There," Mr. Stilinski says. "Stand."
    Stiles sighs.
    "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks his son.
    "I'm just trying to help," Stiles says.
    "Uh huh," Mr. Stilinski says, disbelieving. "Well, why don't you help me understand exactly how you came across this."
    "I told you," I say to my brother. Stiles sighs again.
    "We were looking for Scott's inhaler," Stiles explains. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering how Scott said that Stiles tried to cover for him. I'm pretty sure Stiles' terrible lying skills are about to blow that cover sky-high.
    "Which he dropped when?" Mr. Stilinski asks.
    "The other night," Stiles shrugs.
    "The other night when you were out here looking for the first half of the body?" Mr. Stilinski continues. I silently beg Stiles to say "no."
    "Yes," Stiles says with a decent amount of conviction.
    "Damn it, Stiles," I hiss.
    "The night you told me you were alone and Scott was at home," Stiles' dad clarifies.
    "Yes," Stiles says again. "No," his face completely changes. "Oh, crap."
    "So you lied to me," Mr. Stilinski states.
    "That depends on how you define 'lying,'" Stiles starts.
    "Oh jeez," I whisper.
    "Well, I define it as not telling the truth," the Sheriff says, annoyed. "How do you define it?"
    "Mm, reclining your body in a horizontal position?" Stiles asks. It comes out more like a question than an answer.
    "Get the hell out of here," Mr. Stilinski says.
    "Absolutely," Stiles runs his hands over his hair as he walks over to us. The three of us hop back into the Jeep and I'm stuck in the back - again.
    "I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for a burial," Scott says a little while later, after we'd turned out of the woods.
    "Just keep looking," Stiles says as Scott taps away on his phone. "You too," Stiles tells me. "Both of you. Maybe it's like a ritual or something. Like maybe they bury you as a wolf or maybe it's a special skill, you know? Like something you have to learn."
    I type more into the search bar about burial as wolves. Nothing we were looking for.
    "I'll put it on my to do list," Scott says sarcastically. "Right underneath figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."
    "Maybe it's different for girl werewolves," Stiles plows right over him.
    "Okay! Stop it!" Scott cries. I look up from my phone.
    "Stop what?" Stiles looks just as confused as I feel.
    "Stop saying 'werewolves!' Stop enjoying this so much!" Scott yells. I bite my lip, locking my phone screen.
    "Are you okay?" Stiles asks him.
    "No!" Scott roars. "No, I'm not! I'm so far from being okay!"
    "You know you're gonna have to accept this, Scott, sooner or later," Stiles starts.
    "Wait, Stiles -" I start.
    "I can't!" Scott interrupts.
    "Well, you're gonna have to," Stiles says.
    "No, Stiles -" I try again.
    "No! I can't breathe!" Scott shouts. He lets out a cry and hits the roof of the Jeep.
    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles says over and over. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."
    "Pull over!" Scott shouts.
    "Why? What's happening?" Stiles inquires. Scott leans down, opening a bag. He pulls something out a little, but I can't see what it is.
    "You kept it?" Scott asks, outraged.
    "What was I supposed to do with it?" Stiles asks frantically.
    "What did you keep?" I ask, craning my neck to see.
    "The wolfsbane," Stiles answers.
    "Stop the car!" Scott shouts, his eyes glowing yellow.
    "Okay," Stiles says, the tires screeching as he pulls over and slams down the brakes. He grabs the bag, falls out of the Jeep, and chucks it out into the woods. While his back is turned, Scott leaves out the passenger door.
    "Scott? Where are you -" I start, but he disappears before I can finish my question.
    "Okay, we're good. You can -" Stiles turns, seeing the empty passenger seat. "Scott?"
    "He left," I say, popping into the front seat as the passenger door swings shut.
    "What do you mean 'he left'?" Stiles asks.
    "What do you mean 'what do I mean?'" I ask. "He left. Scott. Left. How much simpler can it get?"
    Stiles hops in the front seat and starts driving. I stare out the window.
    Trees blur past and I find myself trying to see into the woods, squinting and straining my eyes. I watch for the slightest glimpse of Scott - or a wolf.
    "Stiles, you know you can't call the dispatch line when I'm on duty," a voice says. I look over, surprised to see Stiles holding a black device.
    "I just need to know if you've gotten any odd calls," Stiles says.
    "Odd how?" the voice inquires.
    "Uh, like an odd person or a dog-like individual roaming the streets," Stiles explains.
    "I'm hanging up on you now," the voice says.
    "No! Wai- wai- wai- wai- wai- wait!" Stiles shouts.
    "Goodbye," the voice says. Stiles grunts in frustration, tossing the device onto one of his printed pictures. A vision of Scott, in werewolf form, creeping across a roof flashes across my mind. I rub at my eyes, a vision of Allison looking at photos swarming underneath my fingers. What the hell? I shake my head to clear them, focusing on the problem at hand.
    "Seriously?" I ask. "A dog-like individual?"
    "What? You wanted me to say 'Hey, any calls about a werewolf'?" Stiles asks.
    "Dog-like individual," I repeat, rolling my eyes at his ridiculousness.
    "Shut up," Stiles says.