Author's note: OMG, Monday's episode. Firstly, I DETEST Kate. I just can't stand her. Not to mention, the actress who plays her is like ten years older than the actor who plays Derek (cougar much?), but also she is just an evil, psycho b*tch. They don't work together, and it almost seemed too... I don't know, expected? It seemed like the wanted to give Derek a back-story and just lazily decided to make him another guilt-ridden anti-hero who was betrayed by his love, yada yada. I'm so upset that they made it cannon. And Kate seems to think she is a lot more attractive than she actually is…
And the Stiles/Lydia thing? No. Too soon. And why the eff was Allison the one pushing them together? That made no sense. I didn't realize that Allison and Stiles even had a relationship, let alone that she would try to fix him up with Lydia. It seemed like they were just looking for a way to push Lydia and Stiles together and this one was the most feasible.
I was happy, however, to see my prediction was right about Allison finding out about Scott. They certainly dragged it out and went for the drama factor… I'm upset that all the Argents know now, though. (Also, Kate just magically figured out that Scott was a werewolf because he's in love with Allison? Also lazy). I don't see any possible way for Scott to get out of this now that everyone knows he's a werewolf.
Sorry, enough of my ranting… This is a super long author's note, for a super long chapter! I hope you all like this next one, and my story is now officially very AU.
After school on Thursday, Amy and Stiles met outside the front entrance of the building.
"Okay, so just follow me. I'll wait for you at the stop sign at the end of the road," Stiles instructed.
"Alright," Amy agreed awkwardly. "Are your parents going to be there?"
"It's just my dad… And he's the sheriff, so that would be a negative. He's hardly ever home… Why?"
"Just wondering," she answered lightly. And it was true; it had just been meant as an innocent question.
He gave her a skeptical look.
"What?" There was a pause, and realization set in. "Ew, no, Stiles – in your dreams. Get your mind out of the gutter."
"I didn't say anything…" he replied with a smirk. His hands were raised, as if to indicate surrender.
Amy, annoyed, left in a huff to find her car. Her mother had agreed to pick up Ian for the next two days, which meant that she was only responsible for driving herself. It was eerily quiet inside the vehicle, so she plugged her iPhone into the stereo system and let her music play as she stopped behind Stiles' Jeep. He put his turn signal on and pulled off of the side of the road. She could tell by the way that he revved his engine turning the corner that he intended to drive like a maniac, and she was quickly proved correct as he sped down the side streets to his house.
His house. She had seen it before; it was where she'd dropped that guy off – David Hall – nearly a month ago.
He pulled into his driveway, and she parked behind him. They both simultaneously stepped out of their respective cars; the sound of closing doors was the only noise that echoed throughout the empty neighborhood.
"I've been here before," Amy commented as Stiles fumbled with the keys to unlock the front entrance.
"What?" he asked confusedly. He seemed a bit surprised, if not creeped out.
"Yeah, I dropped your friend off here once."
"David Hall? I don't – " he faltered. "Oh. Oh yeah. David stays with me sometimes – his home situation isn't great," he explained somewhat shiftily.
"Oh…" she replied, stepping through the threshold of the dark house, "Yeah, it didn't really look like anyone was here. At the time it was kind of weird, now that I think of it."
"Yeah, he can be a bit sketchy..." Stiles replied distractedly, turning all the lights on. His brown eyes were anxiously jumping around the house, searching for something.
"Is everything okay?" Amy asked in response to his odd behavior.
"What? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I'm just looking to see if he's here now… David?" he called, "Are you here?"
There was no reply.
"Okay, well, looks like he's not. Sooo, my computer's in my room…" he started.
"Alright, then let's go upstairs?" she prodded.
Stiles licked his lips nervously. "Yeah – yeah, let's go."
She followed him to the staircase, and he began climbing up to his bedroom jumpily. Once they were inside, he quickly cleared off his wooden desk and shoved a heap of papers into one of the drawers. She lazily took a seat at the foot of his bed as he futilely attempted to organize the chaos. The rest of his room was just as disoriented as his desk had been; mounds of discarded clothes and other assorted items littered the carpeted floor. In the corner, next to his metallic trash bin, she noticed a heavily used paperback book entitled, "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Werewolves."
"What's that?" she asked amusedly, pointing to the book.
"Huh? Oh, that? That's nothing. I was a werewolf for Halloween last year and my friends got that for me as a joke." It was a totally lame excuse; he couldn't believe she bought it.
Amy cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
"So," he continued uncomfortably, cracking his knuckles, "Shall we?" He was sitting at his computer and had pulled up a chair beside him for her to sit in.
"Sure," she replied, taking her biology book out before dropping her backpack on the floor next to the end of his bed. She then made her way over to the chair he had set up; they began typing up the introduction.
At around six o'clock, they decided that it was time to call it a day.
"So, we still have to do the conclusion and error analysis," Amy started, "So we'll meet here again tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that sounds good – there's only one problem, though… Lacrosse tryouts start tomorrow, so I won't be done until like five-ish," he said as he walked her to the front door.
"Okay, so do you just want to meet at like six then? Is that enough time?"
Stiles scoffed; "I'm a dude, Amelia. It takes me like five minutes to take a shower; you can come at like five thirty. Will you remember how to get here?"
"Yeah, I should be fine… Plus, I can always just plug your address into my navigation," she reasoned.
"Okay, cool. See you tomorrow, then," he waved as she opened the door to her car.
"See ya!" she replied.
Amy didn't remember that Friday was the night of Lydia's party until she got home. Normally, this wouldn't be a significant revelation. But, she was meeting with Stiles at five thirty. And Thursday's session had taken around three hours. Which meant that Friday's session would take at least as long, which meant that they wouldn't be finished until approximately nine o'clock. Which meant that she wouldn't be able to go home, because she told her parents that she was staying over at Lydia's with Allison and that they were having a movie night. No one leaves the house for a movie night at nine o'clock – they would know something was up. Which meant that she had to leave straight from Stiles' house. Which meant that they would probably have to go together.
This was an issue.
When she got to his house, she would be sure to bring it up.
Before she left however, she stuffed the clothes she would wear to the party into her overnight bag. Her outfit of choice consisted of a cutoff "The Who" t-shirt with a Union Jack on it (it also showed the straps of the blue bra she intended to wear – a very important detail), knee-length black leggings, and a pair of patent leather birdcage platforms. It was a far cry from her usual style, but, for some reason, she was feeling a bit edgy. She crammed her enormous cosmetics case into the bag as well and painted her nails electric blue.
After Amy made her way downstairs, she said goodbye to her mother and father before hopping in her car. She didn't like to make a habit of lying to her parents, but she figured that, in instances like this, it was better to keep them ignorant. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, as far as she was concerned.
When she pulled up to Stiles' house, she walked up to the doorstep and found that the front door was already open.
"Stiles?" she asked as she tentatively stepped inside.
"Yeah, I'm up here!" he called from his room.
Amy closed the door behind her and started climbing the staircase. She pushed the door to his bedroom, which was already ajar, completely open.
"WHOA!" she shrieked in surprise.
Stiles jumped nearly a mile in the air. "What?" he exclaimed.
Amy quickly brought a hand up to shield her eyesight. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
"I just got out of the shower, what do you want from me? Jesus, haven't you ever been to the beach?" He quickly pulled a "Pink Floyd" t-shirt over his head, finally becoming fully clothed.
"No, I mean, well, yes, but no! I just want to write a lab report about a frickin' earthworm, and this is what I get. Figures."
"Stop overreacting," Stiles chided lightly.
After the heavy layer of awkwardness had finally dissipated, Amy said, "So, I kinda have to go to Lydia's straight from here."
"Uh, okay. Why are you telling me this?"
"Well, because, depending on what time we finish I might have to hang out here until ten. I told my parents I was going to Lydia's for a movie night, so I can't exactly go back home in the meantime."
"Alright, that's fine…"
"So, I can get ready here?"
"Get ready? Like girly get ready?"
"Yeah, like get dressed and do my make up?"
"I guess, but you'd better not hog the bathroom… So," he added pseudo-casually, "If we're going to the same place, we might as well go together…"
"Not as a date," she added immediately.
"No, obviously not; sorry, sweet-cheeks, but Lydia's the only girl for me."
"I'm just going to pretend that you never called me that and we won't ever speak of it again. I'll drive; it's less date-like."
"Fair enough," he agreed. "So, we should probably get to work…"
"Yup." God, Amy thought, this has to be one of my most awkward experiences to date…
Three hours later, the sound of the garage door opening rang through the house.
"Is that your dad?" she asked. They'd just finished their report, and, both Stiles and Amy had to admit, it came out pretty well.
"I thought you said he doesn't get home until late?"
"He probably just came back to get something. It is Friday night, after all. He's got wild teenage parties to bust…"
"Funny," Amy deadpanned.
"Well," she said lazily, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I'm going to go change and do my makeup."
"I'm starving; I'm gonna order a pizza," he replied, "Any preferences?"
"No, I don't care."
Amy soon emerged from the bathroom, wearing her carefully thought out ensemble (minus the heels) and heavy black eyeliner. She went into Stiles' room, but he wasn't there; so, she tried the kitchen. Sure enough, there we was, shoveling pepperoni pizza into his mouth.
He glanced up from his meal to look at her and said, "Interesting."
"You like The Who?"
"Of course. I love classic rock."
"I wouldn't have expected it."
"I get that a lot…"
All of a sudden, a man, presumably Stiles' father, entered the room in a rush. He had a Diet Coke in one hand, and a slice of pizza in the other.
"Oh, uh, hello," he sputtered.
"This is my friend, Amy," Stiles introduced.
"Hi," Amy said uncomfortably; she wasn't exactly wearing the most parent-friendly outfit, to say the least.
"Nice to meet you, Amy. I'm Sheriff Stilinski. I'd love to stay and talk, but I've got to go. You kids aren't staying in, are you? Stiles, you know the rules…"
"Ew, no, Dad. It's nothing like that. We're going to meet up with Scott and Allison."
Sheriff Stilinski raised his eyebrows and Amy elbowed Stiles sharply in the ribs; he'd just inadvertently made it sound like a double date.
" – And Lydia," he added hastily, "Just as friends."
"Alright, well, be safe. I'll see you later, son."
When he was gone, Amy grabbed herself a piece of pizza and sat at the table across from Stiles. They chatted about bands for about an hour, finding – to the surprise of both – that they had much more in common than they'd anticipated. After a while, it came time for them to head over to Lydia's.
"Ready to go?" Amy asked, starting towards the door.
"Oh, you have no idea…" he said excitedly.
They jumped in the car and blasted the music loudly in preparation for the night to come.
"Dude," Stiles started enthusiastically, "maybe if Lydia gets drunk enough, she'll make out with me."
Amy rolled her eyes. "Don't get your hopes up," she said wryly.
Before long, they'd arrived and saw that a fair amount of people was already parked in the driveway. Stiles, who could barely contain himself, nearly shot out of the car. Amy followed suit, albeit much more calmly; she made sure to lock the car doors behind her, before walking towards the house. Stiles walked through the house, but Amy spotted Allison and Lydia already on the back patio and went around instead.
"Hey, guys," she greeted. She had to yell in order for her voice to be heard above the music.
"Oh, you're just in time!" Lydia said, equally loudly. She was wearing a short, sequined dress with gold pumps, and had bright red lipstick neatly applied on her heart-shaped lips. Allison, on the other hand, was wearing a strapless black dress with fuchsia platforms. Lydia quickly handed Amy a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. "Alright girls, on three. To starting this year the right way," she said slyly, raising her glass, "One, two, three!"
The trio threw back their heads and swallowed their shots; Amy couldn't help but wince as the cool vodka burned her throat. Lydia shook her head in an attempt to recover from the zing, before saying, "Who's up for another one."
"I'm good," Allison said hoarsely, pressing her hand to her chest.
"I'll go for another," Amy said, grinning. Lydia smirked and poured another round, as Allison met up with Scott, Stiles, and some of their other classmates.
"Let's do double," Lydia suggested.
"Why not," Amy agreed happily, despite her better judgment. She downed another round of the burning liquid, but this time the sting wasn't as strong.
Feeling pleasantly warm and lightheaded, Amy and Lydia headed to the open area of the patio/makeshift dance-floor.
Almost immediately, Amy found some handsome brunette that she'd never met before and the pair started dancing. After four songs, she got bored of him and excused herself; she soon saw Stiles and Scott standing around the beer cooler. She headed over, grabbed a can out of the ice, and popped the cap. She drank it much too quickly, and felt the effects – most notably dizziness – almost immediately.
"Are you guys having a good time?" she asked the two boys giddily.
"You sure are," Scott said with a grin.
"Indeed I am," she answered with a flourish.
"Oh my God," Stiles laughed, "You're a hot mess."
"I am not!" she protested.
"Yeah, you kinda are," Scott agreed sheepishly.
"Shut up," she mumbled.
Allison soon caught sight of her friend. "Amy?" she asked in amusement.
"Allison!" the other girl exclaimed, hugging her friend, "You're, like, my best friend, do you know that?"
"I'm flattered," she laughed.
"Oh my God," Stiles repeated, covering his face with his hands. "She has to drive me home tomorrow morning."
"Good luck with that," Scott joked. "How much did she have?"
"Not that much," Allison answered with a snicker.
"Ah, so she's a lightweight," Stiles commented, "I can't say I'm surprised…"
"Hey, I heard that!" she protested.
"Amy? Ames, I need you to let go of me for a sec," Allison said kindly, "I have to go inside."
"Oh, okay…" She begrudgingly released her friend so that she could go inside and use the bathroom. In the meantime, Amy busied herself with drunk-texting her friends from back home. Oh, how she would regret it in the morning...
Another hour passed, and midnight came swiftly. Amy, who had been prohibited from drinking any more, was beginning to sober up. Now, it was Allison's turn to be the drunkest.
"Oh my God, Scott, do you remember that time we snuck into the boy's locker room during sixth period?" she giggled.
Amy and Stiles burst into a fit of laughter as Scott's cheeks reddened.
"Uh, yup, Al, I remember…" he stammered uncomfortably. His phone vibrated and he dug his hand into his pockets, happy for a distraction. His eyes widened as he read the text.
"Uh, Stiles," he said urgently, elbowing his friend. He showed him the phone.
"Shit," Stiles mumbled.
"We've got to go," Scott insisted. "Allison, why don't you go make sure Lydia's okay."
"Mmkay," she replied happily. And soon she was off...
"Um, problem: neither of us has a car…." Stiles pointed out.
"How'd you get here?" he demanded.
"Oh, dear God. Well, she can't drive now…"
"Yeeeeah probably not a good idea," Amy agreed.
"I've got it!" Scott said, "Amy, give me your keys. I'll drive your car back to Stiles'."
"Back to Stiles'? Why?" she asked.
"It's an emergency. We need to get back there."
"Well, I'm not just letting you take my car!"
"You obviously can't drive," Stiles pointed out.
"And you can?" she snapped.
"I can," Scott interjected, "I only had one beer. I'm fine."
"Fine, you can drive – but I'm going to supervise! If something happens to my car, I will shank someone…"
"Okay, tiger…" Stiles said.
Scott sent him an urgent look.
"What, she's not exactly a threat…" he replied.
"Fine. But she waits in the car once we're there."
"What's going on?" Amy whined.
"Give me your keys," Scott ordered hurriedly.
"Didn't she give them to Lydia's mom?" Stiles asked.
Amy dug them out of her bag and tossed them to Scott. "No, I went around the back," she said.
When they were all in her car (Amy was, for the first time, sitting in the backseat), Scott sped towards Stiles' house. They arrived in almost half the time it'd taken for them to get there. The two boys ran out of the car without even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition.
"Wait here," Stiles instructed firmly.
"Wait, why? What's the matter?" Amy called after them. She couldn't imagine any reason that they'd have to get back to Stiles' house in such a hurry, and in the dead of night no less. Her phone vibrated: it was Allison.
wjere r u? the cops r here, it read. Amy ignored it.
The alcohol had drastically affected her decision-making skills, so she did the only thing she could think of – she got out of the car and walked into the house. She tiptoed quietly up the staircase; Stiles and Scott were both in Stiles' room, she assumed.
The door was only halfway closed. She peered in, and couldn't believe her hazy eyesight: there, on Stiles' bedroom floor, was a battered and bloodied David Hall.
Author's note: Muahaha, please review!