𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙻 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝚂⠀⠀⠀⠀³
𝗩𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗠𝗘 𝗜. Cry Wolf

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄
▏𝗦𝟬𝟭𝗘𝟬𝟯︰𝗣𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆▕

❛ BATMAN DOESN'T HAVE
HIS OWN BRIETTA CHASTENER. ❜

DARKNESS BECOMES ONE WITH THE SKY AND STARS TWINKLE OVERHEAD AS SCOTT AND BRIETTA RUN OUT OF THE HIGH SCHOOL'S MAIN BUILDING, giggling and feet hitting pavement filling the silence.

Scott leads Brietta over to the parking lot filled with school buses, and she follows him, a permanent smile on her face, "Where are we going, Scott?"

Scott takes Brietta's hand and pulls her toward one of the school buses, stopping mere feet from the doors, "Somewhere where we can be alone."

Brietta glanced around, but all that was heard were crickets, "We are alone..." Scott gently pulls Brietta toward him so that their faces are nearly touching—so close that their exhales blow onto the other's lips. "Somewhere where we can be more alone," Scott clarifies before he elbows the folding door open and looks at Brietta suggestively.

The two stare at each other, both still smiling before Scott finally turns to lead her inside. "Come on."

Scott walks until he's about three rows from the back of the bus before sitting down in the seat on the right side, resting his back against the window. He expects Brietta to sit beside him, but she takes the seat across from him on the left side.

They both stare at each other, interested to see which of them will concede first and move towards the other.

Brietta grins at Scott before tilting her head, "This is so wrong."

Scott huffed out a breathy chuckle, "Do you really believe that?"

Brietta shrugged, but she had a smile on her lips. Scott bites his lip and waits for a beat before he finally moves toward her and joins her in the other seat. He braces himself on the back of the seat in front of them as he hovers over her, their lips brushing against each other.

"So? Do you?" Scott sought, his lips moving against Brietta's smiling lips. "No." As soon as the words came out, Scott closed the gap between them, and the world around them seemed to fade into the background.

Their first kiss was tentative, a delicate meeting of warm breaths and soft touches. Scott's hand slid from the back of the seat to gently cradle Brietta's cheek, his fingers lightly brushing her skin. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart with his advanced hearing, mirroring his own.

Brietta's fingers found their way to the nape of Scott's neck, threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss. Their mouths opened, and their tongues met in a dance that spoke of longing and desire. The taste of each other was sweet and intoxicating, leaving them both breathless and hungry for more.

Scott's hand trailed from her cheek to her tank top, sliding the strap down one of her shoulders, revealing a lacy bra underneath. Just as Scott starts kissing Brietta's neck, the hand braced on the back of the seat grips harder, and he feels his nails extend into claws.

He grips even harder in an attempt to control himself, slashing the leather seat with four of his claws.

Realizing that he's starting to transform, he pulls away from Brietta, keeping his head down and concealing any Werewolf features that may emerge as he struggles to control himself.

"Scott?" Brietta called to him as she adjusted her tank top strap, putting it back into place.

Scott steps back and turns so that he's facing the back of the bus. He braces himself on the backs of two seats with each hand as his breaths become even harder, keeping his head down as he speaks in a low, urgent tone of voice, "Get away!"

Brietta scrambles up from the seat and rests her hand on his shoulder, "Scott? Are you okay?"

"Get away from me." After a brief second, Scott's ears finally lengthen until the tips are pointed. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he turns to face Brietta.

As she took in his altered features, a gasp escaped her lips, sending a jolt of surprise coursing through his chest.

Brietta inched backward down the narrow aisle toward the door, her movements cautious, like a cornered prey trying to escape. Scott mirrored her, a predator closing in on his quarry. A low, fearful cry escaped her as she turned and made a desperate dash for the exit. But Scott proved too swift, dropping to his knees and snatching her ankle, sending her tumbling to the bus's floor.

Brietta's scream pierced the air, her heart pounding so rapidly it felt like it might escape her chest. Scott dragged her backward toward the rear of the bus, and in her frantic struggle, she clawed for anything to break free from his grasp. Her fingers grasped at the metal bars securing the seats to the bus's floor and the backs of the seats themselves. During this desperate struggle, her face scraped against the floor, drawing blood.

Finally, she managed to secure a firm grip on one of the floor-mounted bars, using it as leverage. With a powerful kick to Scott's gut, she sent him flying backward, crashing into the emergency exit at the back of the bus.

With some distance between them, Brietta scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the front door once more, desperation driving her. She slipped and tumbled down the short staircase leading to the front, crashing into the door. Her vision blurred as blood trailed down from her forehead.

Frustration gripped her as she realized that the bus's door opened from the inside. Panic welled up as she struggled to make it budge without the bus being powered on. She whimpered in fear, turning her head to see that Scott had brutally torn one of the back seats from the floor.

Desperation coursed through her as she pounded on the door, her efforts futile. Scott hurled the seat down the aisle, forcing her to press her body against the door to avoid being struck. Her bloody fingers barely squeezed through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, and just as she managed to pull it open, her bloodshot eyes locked onto Scott skulking closer. A scream of terror escaped her lips.

Scott's vision was tinged red as he advanced toward the front door. Brietta had her fingers through the crack when he grabbed her face, his hand muffling her scream, and violently pulled her back, causing the door to slam shut once more.

Seconds later, blood splattered against the door as Scott tore into her chest.

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"YOU KILLED HER?" Stiles fumed as soon as Scott explained the dream he had—well, he left out the part where they kissed and only voiced the part that terrified him.

Stiles opens the front doors to the school, letting them both in as Scott shrugs exasperatedly, "I don't know. I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy, and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

Stiles raises his eyebrows at Scott at this remark, "Really? I have," Stiles shrugs as he gestures with his hand to emphasize his words, "Usually ends a little differently."

Scott glances over at Stiles, rolling his eyes, "A: I mean I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B..." Scott looks at Stiles with a disgusted expression, "Never give me that much detail about you in bed again. Especially when I know who you're dreaming about."

Stiles shrugs, "Noted."

When Stiles sees Scott sigh with a glum expression, he scoffs and tries to cheer him up, "Hey, come on! Everyone has nightmares, and they're scary because they feel real. Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a Lycanthropy for Beginners class you can take."

Scott raises his hands at Stiles as though to say, seriously? before he frowns and thinks for a moment before getting an idea, "Yeah...not a class, but maybe a teacher."

Stiles, already knowing who Scott is about to refer to, balks at this suggestion, "Who, Derek?"

When Scott continued to stare at Stiles, Stiles sputtered incredulously before smacking him on the back of the head. "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

Scott, fully aware of this fact, responded in the same exasperated tone as Stiles, "Yeah, I know, but chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus...it felt so real." Kissing her felt real too, Scott thought, but he kept that to himself.

Stiles rolled his eyes in disbelief. "How real?"

Scott shrugged, "Like it actually happened."

As they pushed open the back doors simultaneously, heading towards another building, they both stopped abruptly, stunned into silence.

Their eyes locked onto one of the buses in the parking lot, a bus surrounded by crime scene tape. The back of the bus was splattered with blood, and the emergency exit door hung precariously by a single hinge at the bottom. A crime scene investigator snapped photos of the wreckage, including one of the back seats, which had been torn open, spilling its stuffing onto the floor.

Fear gripped them both by the throats as they exchanged horrified glances, and then they sprinted back into the building.

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SCOTT AND STILES HURRIEDLY NAVIGATED THE BUSTLING HALLWAYS OF BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL, their eyes darting from their phones to the people around them—trying to spot a certain auburn-haired girl.

Scott wore a worried frown as he glanced around, frustration evident in his eyes. He turned to Stiles and inquired, "She's not picking up my calls. Is she answering yours?"

Stiles fixed Scott with a stern gaze and deadpanned, "We're literally right next to each other, Scott."

Scott's face bore a deep expression of concern, but Stiles remained oblivious, his attention still scanning their surroundings. He muttered in frustration, "I swear to God, if you killed her, Scott..." Stiles trailed off, directing an accusatory glare at Scott, who continued to send urgent messages to Brietta.

Scott and Stiles found themselves practically turning in circles as they walked, desperately scanning the sea of students in hopes of spotting Brietta.

Scott continued to search, his anxiety palpable as he anxiously ran his hand through his hair. Finally, unable to contain his worry any longer, he picked up his pace and abruptly turned the corner, with Stiles closely following, their control slipping away amidst the tension.

As Scott's own heartbeats thundered in his ears, Stiles struggled to breathe. In a moment of desperation, Scott pressed himself against one of the lockers, gripping it tightly with both hands. Stiles, his chest rising and falling rapidly, began to inquire among the students about Brietta's whereabouts.

Brietta's absence was taking its toll on both of them.

After an agonizingly long moment of fruitless searching, Scott's frustration reached its breaking point. He let out a furious yell and, driven by his pent-up emotions, delivered a powerful punch to the locker. The impact shattered the combination lock and warped the door to the extent that it could no longer close properly.

Nobody pays any attention to Scott except Stiles, who walks over to him and places a hand on his shoulder, "We'll find her, Scott." However, Stiles didn't entirely believe himself.

Returning to his senses, Scott quickly comprehended the extent of the damage he had inflicted on someone's locker. With a surge of anxiety, he grabbed Stiles and rushed away, determined to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the damaged locker before anyone could notice and connect the broken door to him.

As Scott and Stiles turned yet another corner, a sudden collision with someone caused them to skid to a stop, but they continued on. A familiar voice let out a small grunt, prompting both of them to halt and turn toward the source of the sound. When they realized it was Brietta, relief washed over them, and they simultaneously pulled her into a tight, heartfelt hug.

Brietta couldn't help but squeak in surprise at their sudden closeness, but she quickly reciprocated by wrapping her arms around both of them. She patted their backs affectionately and chimed in, her voice tinged with suspicion as she let out a small laugh, "I missed you guys too."

Once they pulled apart, Stiles shook Brietta, "Why weren't you answering our calls or texts?"

Brietta furrowed her eyebrows before scoffing and rolling her eyes, "Eli took my freaking charger in the middle of the night. My phone is dead."

Scott and Stiles exchanged looks of relief as Brietta crouched down to retrieve her textbooks. They swiftly joined her, assisting in gathering her scattered belongings. However, the sudden sound of Principal Thomas' voice echoing through the PA system caused a momentary pause, capturing the attention of everyone in the vicinity, including the three teenagers.

"Attention, students. This is your principal," Principal Thomas's voice resonated through the PA system. Stiles and Scott handed Brietta her textbooks before rising to their feet, their ears tuned in to the announcement. "I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night involving one of our buses," Principal Thomas continued, his words carrying an air of gravity. "While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as usual."

A collective groan of disappointment rippled through the students in the hallway as they learned that classes hadn't been canceled. Brietta furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and concern, voicing her inquiry, "Wait... what happened to one of the buses?"

Stiles and Scott share a look before Stiles licked his lips, pursing them, "It's a long story."

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"I'M SORRY, YOU KILLED ME?" Brietta's eyes bulged once Scott finished speaking, leaning over the table to look at him. The three teenagers were in Chemistry class, where Stiles and Brietta were seated at a two-person desk in the second row from the back, while Scott sat at the desk directly in front of them.

In their classroom, Mr. Adrian Harris was diligently writing notes on the chalkboard at the front of the class. Meanwhile, a beaker filled with clear liquid bubbled atop a stand, suspended over a Bunsen burner.

Scott flashed a guilty smile at Brietta, but her frown deepened as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She pressed on, her voice laced with concern, "Wait, what were we even doing in a school bus?"

The small smile that had briefly appeared on Scott's face vanished instantly, replaced by a suspicious look as he narrowed his eyes at her. He retorted, his tone cautious, "I don't know...why are you asking so many questions?"

Brietta's head snapped back in shock at Scott's response, and then she countered, narrowing her own eyes, "I'm not." She tilted her head at him, a hint of curiosity in her gaze, and added, "Why are you so nervous?"

Scott let out a light scoff, mirroring her question, "Why are you so nervous?"

Brietta's lips curled into a slight smile as she responded, "I'm not nervous."

Scott shrugged casually and stated, "Then I'm not nervous either." Stiles watched with a perplexed expression as the exchange unfolded between the two of them. Brietta glanced over at Stiles, seeking visual confirmation that he was witnessing the peculiar conversation. After he shrugged in response, Brietta turned her attention back to Scott and concluded with a wry smile, "Okay...then we're both not nervous."

"Cool," Scott muttered, nodding his head.

Brietta stammered over her words for a moment before she shook her head, refocusing on the topic at hand. She asked, "Okay, so you had a dream that you killed me in the bus, but I wasn't there, and there's still blood there. So, what happened, and how did you know something happened?"

Scott inhaled sharply, his brows furrowing as he contemplated the situation. He then offered a hesitant response, "Maybe I was there? I could've been dreaming to avoid facing who I was actually hurting. Maybe it was my blood on the door...?" He let out a frustrated grumble under his breath and shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted with uncertainty.

Stiles shrugged and gestured with the pencil in his right hand as he suggested, "Could have been animal blood. You know, maybe you caught a rabbit or something?"

Scott shot Stiles a disbelieving look, clearly appalled by this theory. He questioned, "And did what?"

Stiles shrugged again, maintaining his neutral tone as he replied, "Ate it."

Scott's horror deepened, and he exclaimed, "Raw?"

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes at Scott before responding in a sarcastic tone, "No, you stopped to bake it in a little Werewolf oven." A soft snicker escaped from Brietta, and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Stiles continued, "I don't know, you're the one who can't remember anything."

Scott remained visibly offended, and neither of the three teenagers noticed that Mr. Harris had been closely observing their conversation. The Chemistry teacher wore a stern expression, with his hands placed firmly on his hips. In a snide tone, he finally interrupted them, saying, "Mr. Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while."

Stiles, feeling a bit embarrassed, lets out a laugh while Mr. Harris stares at him blankly. "I think you, Ms. Chastener and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

The three of them scoff in irritation and reply, "No."

Mr. Harris, not wasting any time, fixes his gaze on Scott and gestures toward the front of the room, indicating that Scott should move there. He does the same with Brietta, motioning for her to go to the back of the room.

Scott and Brietta sigh in annoyance, reluctantly gathering their books and papers before shifting to their assigned desks. "Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," Mr. Harris comments sarcastically.

However, as Brietta approaches the seat indicated by Mr. Harris, she notices Isaac Lahey sitting next to the empty seat. A smile spreads across Brietta's face as she slides into the seat beside Isaac. "Hi."

Isaac Lahey, caught off guard by Brietta's sudden appearance, looks up from his desk and returns her smile. "Hey," he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. He glances briefly at Mr. Harris, making sure the teacher doesn't notice their interaction.

Brietta shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, it seems like fate brought us together," she replies playfully. "Or maybe it's just Mr. Harris trying to separate me from Scott and Stiles. Either way, I ended up here."

Isaac chuckles softly, appreciating Brietta's lightheartedness. "Yeah, it's definitely an improvement from sitting in the back alone," he admits. "At least now I have some company."

"Hey! I think they found something!" A student yelled, and Brietta recognized the voice as Harley's. The entire classroom, including Brietta and Isaac, rushed toward the window, their gazes fixed on the sight of officers carefully transferring a body onto a stretcher, preparing to load it into a hospital van. The atmosphere grew tense with anticipation.

"That's not a rabbit..." Scott muttered, his voice laced with horror. Suddenly, the seemingly lifeless figure on the stretcher jolted upright, letting out a piercing scream filled with terror. Startled, everyone in the room instinctively recoiled, creating a safe distance between them and the mirror; as if the man on the stretcher would attack them next.

Caught up in the moment, Brietta's hand instinctively sought Isaac's, finding solace and security in the touch. Their fingers intertwined unconsciously, providing a sense of comfort amidst the chaotic scene unfolding before them.

Brietta noticed Scott moving back and quickly walked over to him, releasing Isaac's hand. "Okay, this is good, this is good!" Stiles reassured as he approached his friends. They move to huddle away from the rest of the students by the window.

Brietta narrows her eyes at Stiles, "How is this good, Stiles?"

"He got up!" Stiles exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over him. "Dead guys can't do that," he added, his words carrying a sense of urgency and determination.

Brietta let out a sigh, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she leaned in closer to her friends. "Yeah, he's alive, but if Scott was on the bus last night, he could ID him and ruin everything," she voiced her concerns, her tone filled with a mix of apprehension and worry.

The trio fell into a momentary silence, contemplating the potential consequences of Scott recognizing the person who had just risen from the stretcher. Their collective efforts and the delicate balance they had maintained could be jeopardized if the truth were to be exposed.

Scott let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation evident on his face as his expression turned into a deep frown. "Guys, I did that," he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of guilt and self-realization.

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"BUT DREAMS AREN'T MEMORIES," Stiles countered firmly as they, along with Brietta and Scott, left the lunch line and carried their trays of food over to an empty lunch table.

"Well, some dreams do come from memories," Brietta told with a casual shrug, prompting a sigh from Scott, "Then it wasn't just a dream..."

As they reached the table, the three of them set their trays down. Scott then removed his backpack and placed it on the chair next to him, with Stiles and Brietta following suit. With a solemn tone, Scott continued as they settled into their seats, "Something happened last night, and I can't remember what."

"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?" Stiles questioned, prompting Scott to start raising his voice, "Because—." Brietta shot Scott a pointed look, and he bashfully glanced around the cafeteria before continuing his train of thought at a lower volume, "During the full moon, he hasn't changed. He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night, attacking some totally innocent guy."

Brietta frowned and challenged, "Well, you don't actually know that. He could've shifted before or after."

Scott remained unconvinced by Brietta's words. "I don't not know it," he stated, reaffirming his belief in Derek's control during the full moon.

Scott paused, his expression troubled as he bit his lip, deep in thought. Finally, he sighed in defeat, acknowledging, "I have to figure out how to deal with this." He winced and lowered his head, confessing with reluctance, "I have to quit lacrosse."

"No, you're not quitting, okay? You can't just cancel your entire life! We'll figure it out," Stiles assured Scott, nodding in determination.

A second later, Stiles attempted to grab a french fry from Brietta's plate, but she playfully swatted his hand away. Stiles responded with a pitiful expression, earning a smile from Brietta as she gestured for him to take some of her fries.

"Figure out what?" A voice interrupted their conversation. The trio looked up to see Lydia gracefully sitting down next to Scott. Scott and Brietta exchanged a brief glance before answering simultaneously.

"Why Stiles has never been on a date."

"Homework."

Scott and Brietta briefly locked eyes before they decided to switch their answers, prompting a scoff from Stiles. Stiles, with an exaggerated air of self-importance, declared, "I feel really violated right now. I should start a Stiles Protection Squad. SPS." His statement elicited a chuckle from Brietta.

Suddenly, their lunch table began to attract more people. Tommy Deckler claimed the seat at the head of the table, while Danny Māhealani settled to Brietta's right. Scott shifted his attention and saw Allison approaching to sit on his right. He smiled at her and promptly moved his backpack to make room for her.

After a moment, Stiles couldn't contain his annoyance any longer and rolled his eyes. He shifted his attention to Scott and Brietta, clearly vexed that their Werewolf-related brainstorming session had been disrupted.

Adding to the growing complexity of the situation for the three teenagers, Jackson approached the table and positioned himself next to Tommy. He fixed Tommy with an intense glare and ordered him curtly, "Get up."

Tommy wore an offended expression and released an annoyed groan. "How come you never ask Danny to get up?" he complained, prompting Danny to retort with a smirk, "Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot."

"That's because you're gay," Brietta playfully reminded Danny, smiling at him. Danny rolled his eyes but couldn't help smirking.

Tommy frowned and reluctantly vacated the chair to make room for Jackson. However, Jackson shoved him aside rather rudely as he claimed the seat, prompting a scowl from Scott at Jackson's discourteous behavior. Before they could exchange any words, Danny initiated a new conversation topic, saying, "So, I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson stated bluntly, which caused Brietta to snort, though she quickly covered it up with a laugh. Lydia chimed in with a deadpan correction, "A cougar is a mountain lion," Her words elicited a confused look from Jackson. Lydia looked over at her boyfriend before adding to her sentence with a hint of false uncertainty, "Isn't it?" Brietta let out an exasperated sigh at the exchange.

Brietta couldn't help but roll her eyes inwardly as she observed Lydia putting on a 'dumb girl' act to make Jackson feel better about himself. She thought it was rather pointless, as Jackson's ego had a remarkable ability to repair itself; it was like an armor that protected itself.

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway," Jackson casually shrugged, which earned a scoff from Brietta. She started to respond, "Excuse you? You—." However, her words were abruptly cut off as Lydia kicked her lightly across the table, casting her a pointed look. Brietta's eyebrows furrowed, and she fell into a frown, taking the hint to drop the argument.

"Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out." Stiles smoothly changed the subject, pulling out his phone to share some new information. He started a video that displayed the scene, and a news reporter's voice came through, saying, "The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident but confirmed the victim, Garrison Myers, did survive the attack. Myers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition." The video concluded, leaving the group with this update.

Scott's reaction was immediate as he gasped upon recognizing the name of the man identified as the victim. "Wait, I know this guy," he exclaimed, his expression filled with surprise and concern.

Allison immediately sought clarification, asking, "You do?" She seemed curious about Scott's connection to the victim.

"Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I lived with my dad," Scott explained. He glanced at Brietta and Stiles, elaborating, "He was the driver." It was clear that the revelation had left him deeply unsettled.

Lydia absentmindedly twirled a piece of her strawberry blonde hair between her fingers as she spoke. "Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please? Like..." She suddenly gasped as an idea struck her and turned to Brietta with excitement. "Oh, where are we going tomorrow night?" she inquired, clearly eager to shift the conversation to a more enjoyable topic.

"Where we're going..." Brietta echoed, her eyebrows furrowing as she processed Lydia's question. She seemed momentarily puzzled, likely trying to recall the plans for the following night.

Lydia scoffed as if her intention were self-evident. "Come on, Brie. It's standard policy to have fun at least once a week, and since it's a Monday, we need fun," she asserted with an air of confidence, emphasizing the importance of enjoying themselves.

"We as in all of us?" Scott sought clarification, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the idea of a group outing.

Lydia responded with a small smile, nodding in confirmation. Allison appeared equally excited about the prospect but was careful not to seem impolite to her new friend. She replied in a cautious tone, "Sounds fun."

Jackson's annoyed expression made it abundantly clear that he had no enthusiasm for this outing, and his irritation was palpable as he raised his fork in the air to emphasize his point. "You know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork," he grumbled, his sarcasm cutting through the conversation.

Brietta continued to push her steamed rice around her plastic plate with a plastic fork, her forced smile directed at Jackson. She quipped, "Nobody's stopping you," in a tone that matched Jackson's sarcasm.

Lydia, clearly annoyed by Jackson's rudeness, swiftly grabbed the fork out of his hand. Meanwhile, Stiles, taking a sip from his water bottle, rolled his eyes and waved his hand in wild, exaggerated gesticulations, expressing his frustration with the situation.

"How 'bout bowling? You love to bowl," Lydia suggested, changing the subject as she shot her boyfriend a pointed look.

"Yeah, with actual competition," Jackson grumbled, earning an offended look from Brietta, Stiles, and Scott.

Before Brietta could engage in a heated exchange with Jackson, Scott intervened by shoving an apple slice into her mouth. Despite her irritation, she obediently chewed on the slice, all the while casting Scott a series of dirty looks as he grinned at her with feigned innocence.

Allison, clearly offended by Jackson's remark, spoke up, making an effort to maintain a friendly tone. "How do you know we're not 'actual competition'?" she challenged, then turned to Scott, Brietta, and Stiles. "You guys can bowl, right?" She seemed eager to defend their group's capabilities.

Scott shrugged uneasily and replied for all of them, "Sort of," suggesting that their bowling skills might not be top-notch.

Jackson shot Scott a pointed look and responded in a patronizing tone, "Is it 'sort of' or 'yes'?" His inquiry carried a tone of superiority, challenging Scott to be more definitive in his response.

Scott, clearly unwilling to be shown up by Jackson or made to feel any more inferior than he already did, chose to lie instead. He asserted, "Yes," and straightened his posture to appear more confident. "In fact," he added, "we're great bowlers." His statement carried a tone of unwavering confidence, despite the uncertainty he may have felt inside.

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"WE'RE TERRIBLE BOWLERS." Stiles bluntly reminded Scott as they descended the stairs with Brietta in tow. "I know! I'm such an idiot," Scott groaned, acknowledging his previous lie and his not-so-great bowling skills.

Scott let out another groan of frustration before speaking, "How is this happening? I either killed a guy, or I didn't." His unease and confusion about the situation were clearly evident in his voice.

"I don't think Danny likes me very much..." Stiles blurted out suddenly, catching Brietta's attention as she glanced over at him with a puzzled expression.

Scott, much like Stiles, seemed to disregard Stiles' comment as he remained preoccupied with his own concerns. "What if that happens again? I'm gonna be a Werewolf for the rest of my life..." he fretted, his worries about his condition taking center stage in his thoughts.

Brietta was taken aback by the conversations both boys held with...nobody. "What the hell?"

"Am I not attractive to gay guys?" Stiles asked randomly, causing Brietta's eyes to widen, and her face contorted in confusion. "What?" she exclaimed, clearly baffled by the unexpected question.

"I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now..." Scott began to explain before pausing to check his phone. He sighed upon seeing the time and added, "Now I'm gonna be late for work." His frustration seemed to mount as he recounted the various challenges he was facing.

Scott rushed out the school's door, determined to make it to work on time, while Stiles, still annoyed by the lack of attention to his question, exasperatedly called out after him, "Wait, Scott, you didn't—. Am I attractive to gay guys?" His inquiry hung in the air as Scott disappeared from view, leaving Stiles with his unanswered question.

Stiles turned to Brietta for an answer, but she instantly shook her head and walked away from him with a look of bewilderment, firmly stating, "Don't even think about it." Her response left Stiles to ponder his question on his own.

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SCOTT TOOK THE TIME TO FILL BRIETTA AND STILES IN ON WHAT HAD TRANSPIRED WITH DEREK EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON. Derek had suggested that Scott revisit the crime scene to potentially trigger his lost memories. This conversation eventually led the three teenagers to gather at the school's bus parking lot, despite it being nearly 9 P.M.

As Roscoe came to a halt, Brietta, Stiles, and Scott all climbed out of the blue jeep, making their way toward the chainlink fence that separated them from the school bus parking lot. However, when they reached the fence, Scott turned to his friends and said, "Hey, no—just me. You two need to keep watch." He appeared to want to handle this task alone.

Brietta furrowed her brow in response to Scott's decision, while Stiles came to a halt and scoffed. He was evidently offended at being excluded and grumbled, "How come we're always the ones keeping watch?" It seemed that Stiles wasn't pleased with this assignment.

Stiles, undeterred by Scott's earlier remark, began to climb up the chain-link fence that separated their parking spot from the school bus bay. However, Scott quickly intervened, grabbing Stiles by the shoulder and pulling him down. "Because only one of us needs to go!" Scott asserted firmly, emphasizing the importance of the decision he had made.

Stiles retreated back to ground level and pointed an accusatory finger at Scott. "Okay, why's it starting to feel like you're Batman and we're Robin?" he questioned, his tone laced with frustration. When Scott responded with an exasperated look, Stiles let out another scoff. "I sure as hell don't want to be Robin all the time, and I can bet that Brie doesn't either!" he declared, clearly expressing his dissatisfaction with the situation.

Scott turned to Brietta, seeking confirmation of what Stiles had voiced. Brietta responded with a shrug, saying, "I mean...you both have a point..."

Stiles shot Brietta a side-eyed glance and remarked, "Thanks, Switzerland."

Brietta playfully stuck her tongue out at Stiles. Meanwhile, Scott, growing equally exasperated, argued back in response, "Nobody's Batman and Robin any of the time!"

Stiles, now feeling both offended and disappointed by the resolution of their argument, mumbled, "Not even some of the time?"

Stiles groaned in frustration as if Scott were acting like his overbearing father giving orders. "Oh, my God! Fine," he grumbled, complying with Scott's decision. Despite her slight feeling of being left out by Scott's choice, Brietta couldn't help but snicker under her breath at Stiles' tone.

As Scott began to climb over the fence and venture into the bus parking lot, Stiles and Brietta retraced their steps toward Stiles' jeep. They both climbed into the vehicle, with Stiles taking the driver's seat and Brietta in the passenger seat. Together, they sat in a moment of silence, processing the situation and their roles in it.

"I don't think that," Brietta whispered softly, catching Stiles' attention. She gazed out at the buses before turning her head to look at him directly. "I don't think you're Robin," she said, her tone sincere. Then, she shrugged and added, "But, even if you were, Robin saved Batman's life countless times."

A smile began to spread across Stiles' face, and he nodded in response. "Yeah, he did," he acknowledged, appreciating the sentiment behind Brietta's words.

Brietta tilted her head slightly, allowing strands of her hair to fall onto her face as she smiled warmly at Stiles. "Besides," she added with a playful tone, "Stiles Stilinski sounds like a way better hero than Robin or Batman."

Stiles chuckled in response to her words. "Really?" he quizzed with a grin, seeking confirmation. She nodded with twinkling eyes, "My favorite hero already."

Brietta leaned closer to Stiles, her left hand gently resting on his right hand, which was placed on his thigh. She softly rubbed Stiles' knuckles as she spoke, her voice sincere and tender. "You saved me, Stiles. More than you know," she expressed, her gaze locked onto his eyes, which appeared slightly glossed with emotion.

"You—." Stiles paused for a moment, his left hand reaching out to gently tuck the strands of hair that obscured Brietta's face behind her ear. As he finished the gesture, his hand lingered on her cheek. Brietta leaned into his touch, and in that shared moment, both of their hearts fluttered with a connection that transcended words.

"You saved me too, Brie. After my mom..." Stiles began, his voice trembling with the weight of the past. Brietta pulled him into a warm and reassuring hug. She was slightly uncomfortable due to their position over the console, but she would do anything to comfort Stiles.

"You don't need to be Batman," Brietta whispered softly as they held each other. Stiles, his heart feeling lighter, whispered back, "Yeah, besides, Batman doesn't have his own Brietta Chastener," and hesitantly kissed her forehead. Their connection deepened in that intimate moment, strengthening the bond between them.

As they both pulled away slightly, they became acutely aware of their close proximity. Stiles shuddered lightly, feeling Brietta's breath on his lips. He whispered her name with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation, "Brie..." The unspoken tension hung in the air between them.

Stiles began to continue his sentence, but their moment was abruptly interrupted by a bright light shining in the distance. They both quickly broke apart and turned their attention to the source of the light, which appeared to be headlights flashing on the other side of the parking lot. Without wasting any time, Stiles honked the horn loudly, signaling to Scott that they needed to leave the area immediately to avoid being caught.

Scott received the signal and swiftly rounded the bus, heading toward the fence. He efficiently climbed over it and joined Brietta, who had already shuffled into the backseat of the jeep. With Scott now in the passenger seat, they were ready to make a quick getaway.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Scott urgently commanded, and Stiles wasted no time. He pressed hard on the gas pedal, causing the car to reverse rapidly down the road they had taken to get there. Moments later, he hit the brakes with equal force, and the car practically performed a doughnut maneuver at the junction between two roads.

As Stiles accelerated away from the school, he glanced over at Scott. Scott's right arm was out the window, clutching the top of the Jeep to secure himself in his seat since he hadn't had time to buckle his seatbelt. Stiles, trying to focus on the road, couldn't help but glance at Scott as he asked, "Did it work? Did you remember?"

Scott cast a horrified look back through the rear windshield before responding to Stiles' question. He replied, his voice tinged with shock, "Yeah, I was there last night. And the blood? A lot of it was mine."

Stiles' eyes widened in alarm as he sought clarification, "So, you did attack him?" The question hung in the air, waiting for Scott's response to shed light on the situation.

"No," Scott objected vehemently, shaking his head. "I...I...I saw glowing eyes in the bus, but they weren't mine—" His brow furrowed as he attempted to piece together the fragments of his memory. "It was Derek," he concluded, his revelation about Derek's involvement adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

Brietta, seated in the back, piped up with her own question, her gaze occasionally shifting to Stiles through the rearview mirror. "What about the driver?" She inquired.

Brietta turned her attention to Scott as he spoke, and a hint of relief appeared on his face. "I think I was actually trying to protect him," Scott revealed, suggesting that his actions that night might have been driven by a desire to safeguard the bus driver rather than harm him.

Stiles quickly processed Scott's explanation but then found a hole in his logic, causing him to furrow his brow in confusion. "Wait—why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?" he questioned, raising a valid point that cast doubt on the situation.

"What if Derek didn't do it?" Brietta raised a valid point, revisiting the idea of the pack and the possibility of other werewolves being involved. "Remember the whole pack thing?" she continued, emphasizing that Derek might not be the only werewolf in this scenario. "If he did bite you, then what's stopping him from biting other people?" Stiles and Scott exchanged uncertain glances, both grappling with the enigmatic nature of the situation. Scott seemed slightly more relieved, knowing he might not be a killer, but the mystery of the pack remained unsolved.

"It's gotta be a pack thing," Stiles speculated. His suggestion left both Brietta and Scott with puzzled expressions and he clarified, "Like an initiation. You do the kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience?" Scott remarked sarcastically, punctuating the absurdity of the situation with a shrug.

"Yeah, but you didn't do it! Which means you're not a killer! And it also means that—" Stiles began, but before he could finish his thought, Scott interjected with a smile, "That I won't hurt you two."

In the rearview mirror, Brietta noticed Scott rolling his eyes before letting out a light snicker. However, as her gaze shifted away from Scott, it settled on Stiles.

Stiles shuddered lightly, feeling Brietta's breath on his lips. He whispered her name with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation, "Brie..."

As they continued to drive, all that occupied Brietta's thoughts was the perplexing encounter between her and Stiles, leaving her with a lingering sense of bewilderment.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

Tensions are rising and hearts (and other areas) are throbbing...

Also, I decided to change how I write my chapters! So, instead of one chapter having a full episode, the episodes will be broken down into two chapters!

▍PUBLISHED . . 09/08/23 — ♡︎ ୫
© POETICLULLS,                    2023