Transformed (Incomplete)

Heart Monitor, Part VI

"It's her," Stiles announces as we're leaving Coach's classroom.

"What do you mean?" Scott asks.

"It's Allison," my best friend clarifies. "Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her."

"Okay," Scott says.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game?" Stiles raises his eyebrows. "You said you could hear her voice out on the field."

"Yeah, I did," Scott answers. I can see it dawning on him.

"Well, so that's what brought you back so you could score. And then after the game in the locker room, you didn't kill her. At least, not like how you were trying to kill me and Em," Stiles explains. Scott gives him a look and he sighs. "She brings you back, is what I'm saying."

"No, no, no, but it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her or – or touching her -" Scott starts to give me way too many details again.

"No, that's not the same," Stiles stops him. "When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know? You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

"Ugh, guys, seriously?" I groan and smack Stiles on the arm.

"Yeah, sorry," Scott grins.

"That's fine," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I don't think she makes you weak. I – I think she actually gives you control. She's kind of like an anchor."

"You mean because I love her?" Scott holds the straps of his backpack. I feel a grin spreading across my face.

"Exactly," Stiles nods.

"Did I just say that?" Scott asks himself.

"Yes, you just said that," Stiles watches my brother.

"I love her," Scott repeats. My cheeks start to hurt because I'm smiling so much.

"That's great," Stiles says. "Now, moving on -"

"No, no, no, really," Scott insists. "I think I'm totally in love with her."

"Okay, I've gone from happy for you to about to puke," I pat my brother on the shoulder.

"That's wonderful," Stiles retorts. "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please? Because you obviously can't be around her all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, sorry," my brother apologizes. "So, what do I do?"

Stiles sighs. "I don't know," he admits. "Yet."

"Oh no," Scott says when he catches his Stiles' face. "You're getting an idea, aren't you?"

"That's his idea face," I confirm.

"Yeah," Stiles says happily.

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?" Scott looks concerned.

"Maybe," Stiles replies quietly.

"I think that's a guarantee on all of Stiles' ideas," I smirk.

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?" Scott demands. If it's anything like the last idea, it will.

"Yeah, definitely, come on," Stiles starts dragging my brother down the school hallway.

"What are we doing?" Scott asks as soon as we're outside.

"Well, Emerson's gonna go to class and you'll see," Stiles says.

"I've still got time to get to class," I protest.

"Yeah, you're not gonna wanna stick around for this," my best friend tells me.

"Maybe not, but I'm still going to," I cross my arms defiantly.

"Fine," Stiles huffs. "But you can't interfere. At all. I have duct tape left and I'm not afraid to use it."

"I won't interfere," I promise, rolling my eyes. I didn't interfere when my brother had lacrosse balls bouncing off of him, did I?

"Okay, you, stand right there," Stiles commands my brother. "Do you have your keys?"

Scott produces them from his hoodie pocket.

"Perfect," Stiles positions his hands. "Hold 'em up like so."

Scott stands with his key in the air, awkwardly tense. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?" Stiles asks. Scott nods. "Okay. Just keep holding it. Right there."

Stiles eyes a group of guys closer to the building, takes out his own keys, and drags them down the side of a shiny, black truck. My jaw drops and my eyes widen.

"Stiles!" I whisper-shout. Scott's copying my 'o'-shaped mouth and wide eyes.

"Come with me," Stiles takes my hand and pulls me away from Scott. He backs up a little more and then turns and shouts, "Hey, hey, hey, dude! What do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?"

He looks over at the group of guys who have now turned around at the mention of their truck. Their eyes land on Scott, his key poised perfectly.

"What the hell?" one of the guys shouts angrily.

"No, Stiles," I start to try and free my hand from his grasp. He holds tighter. I keep struggling as I watch the guys approach my brother. "Stiles, they are going to kill him."

"Shh," he shushes me without taking his eyes off of the scene. "He'll heal."

"No, Stiles, let me go!" I say a little louder. Scott shakes his head, but the guy still punches him.

"Ow!" Stiles narrates. "My god. Wow."

"Stiles!" I seethe through gritted teeth, pulling my arm away from him. He doesn't let go and grabs it with his other hand. Tears are threatening to spill at the back of my eyes.

"You promised!" he protests. The guys throw Scott on the ground and gather around him. All of them are kicking him and hitting him.

"Let me -" Stiles clamps a hand over my mouth to keep me from yelling. He pins me to himself with his elbows so that he can watch Scott's heart rate on Coach's phone.

"If you could just relax so that Scott can, that'd be great," Stiles spazzes. I stop struggling and keep my eyes on the changing number on the screen. It's going up and up. "Stay calm, stay calm," Stiles mutters. I'm not sure who he's talking to. "Oh, that's not okay. Scott, come on, buddy."

Then, I watch in awe as the number starts to drop. Stiles takes his hand off of my mouth.

"Stop!" I hear a voice yell. "Hey! Stop it right now!"

I see Harris walking up and the guys scatter.

"What do you idiots think you're doing?" he looks between the three of us and Stiles lets go of me. When Scott looks our way, Stiles holds up the phone towards Scott and smiles smugly.