Sean followed Scott's gaze at that moment, looking toward the bleachers where Allison was sitting. There was a look in the way Scott watched the girl that wasn't just admiration, but as if he had "imprinted" on her with his newly discovered senses. Sean turned back to Stiles.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Sean murmured. "I'm glad Scott isn't getting pushed around anymore but... this change is too fast and too big. It's like he turned into someone else overnight. And thinking about what the cost of this will be scares me."
Stiles parked the jeep away from the closed barriers at the forest entrance. "Alright guys," Stiles said, checking his flashlight. "The plan is simple. We go to the spot where we found half the body last night, get the inhaler Scott dropped, and get out of here without getting caught. Sean, keep those famous sixth senses of yours on."
Sean inhaled the damp scent of the forest as he got out of the vehicle. "This forest smells different since last night," he muttered. "Like... heavier, darker."
The trio began climbing toward the hill they had fled from the night before, rustling over the dried leaves. Scott was leading the way, moving quickly as if he knew the path by heart. He was no longer out of breath; on the contrary, he seemed to grow stronger with every step. Stiles, meanwhile, was telling a werewolf story about the incident.
"It was here," Scott said, stopping suddenly. "I hit the ground right here when the herd of deer came at me. My inhaler flew off in that direction."
All three began searching through the leaves on the ground with their lights. Sean focused on a spot a little distance away from Scott. The feeling that something was watching them made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Guys, forget the inhaler. We need to leave here right now," Sean said, his voice dropping.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sean, we just started!" Stiles protested. But just then, Scott's voice was heard, but this time it was full of fear. "I found it... I must have thrown it toward this tree."
As Scott and Stiles headed that way, Sean suddenly noticed someone among the trees. A tall silhouette in a black jacket appeared. Derek Hale emerged from the shadows like a ghost. He was holding Scott's blue asthma inhaler in his hand.
Sean immediately stepped in front of his brother, extending his hand protectively. "Who are you? Put that inhaler down right now!"
Derek looked at Sean's bold outburst with slight surprise but an expressionless face. Then he threw the inhaler hard onto the ground at Scott's feet. "This is private property," he said, his voice as sharp and cold as a knife. "Don't come here again."
When Derek turned and disappeared into the darkness, Sean was still waiting on alert. As Scott picked up his inhaler and straightened up, Sean asked without taking his eyes off the direction Derek had gone: "Who is he? Stiles, I know you know everything, who is this guy?"
Stiles swallowed, pointing his flashlight at the ground. "That's Derek Hale. You don't know him? Ten years ago, his entire family died in a fire. Almost everyone burned to death inside. Derek fled from around here back then, but it looks like he's returned."
Sean frowned. "Ten years later? Why now?"
Stiles shrugged, his voice uneasy. "No one knows. But the things told about that family aren't normal at all. He's one of the few survivors of that fire."
Sean looked at his brother and the inhaler in his hand. "Interesting..." he murmured. "Why did he bring the inhaler back then? Just to kick us out or is he following Scott?"
Stiles grumbled as he walked toward the jeep: "I don't know, Sean, but that guy's look didn't say 'welcome' to me."
As Sean got out of Stiles' jeep in front of the door, his mind was like a stormy sea. He gave Stiles a quick parting wave and went inside. The silence of the house was both comforting and eerie after that heavy and uncanny air in the forest.
He went up to his room and threw himself onto his bed. As he watched the ceiling, the scenes of the day passed before his eyes like a film strip: Scott not needing his asthma inhaler, handing Allison her pen before she even asked for it, that impossible, wild flip at the goal... And most importantly, Derek Hale's cold, all-knowing eyes.
"Werewolves?" he whispered to himself.
Stiles' conspiracy theories were usually ridiculous, but what happened today had already surpassed the limits of logic. Sean always trusted his feelings, and right now a voice inside him was saying that his brother hadn't just received a bite, but that it was as if his genetic code was being rewritten. Scott was at the vet's right now, maybe looking for an answer, but Sean could sense that the answer lay in a place much darker than medicine.
The silence of the night settled over the McCall house. When Scott returned from the vet, he looked tired but strangely energetic. Sean watched his brother enter through the door while getting a glass of water in the kitchen.
"So, how were things at the vet? Did Deaton work you too hard?" Sean asked, pulling out a chair for his brother.
Scott smiled, his eyes shining. "Actually... Allison was there. The new girl. She brought her dog." A goofy, love-struck expression appeared on Scott's face as he talked about Allison. He excitedly recounted everything that happened up until that little coincidence at the vet.
Seeing his brother like this, Sean pushed his dark suspicions aside. He put his hand on Scott's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Wow... So you impressed the girl on the first day? Good for you, Scott. Maybe this 'new you' isn't such a bad thing after all."
The two brothers talked and joked for a while longer about school, practice, and ordinary things. For Sean, this was the last peaceful moment before the storm. Eventually, they both went to their rooms. When Sean lay in bed, he could hear the steady sound of Scott's breathing coming from his room; this relieved him and he fell into a deep sleep.
The peace of the night gave way to an uncertain tension with the gray and misty light of morning. When Sean opened his eyes, he noticed an unusual silence in the house. Normally at this hour, he should have heard the sounds of Scott getting ready in the bathroom or the clinking of a cereal bowl from the kitchen.
He got out of bed, stretching slightly, and went out into the hallway. "Scott? You awake, man?" he called out, but there was no answer. He headed toward Scott's room and pushed the door open slightly. The bed was empty and messy. The window was wide open; the cool morning breeze coming in was slowly blowing the curtains.
Sean frowned and went downstairs. "Scott? Mom?"
His mother, Melissa, had likely already gone to her morning shift. Just then, he heard the back door open slowly with a creak. Sean rushed to the kitchen and froze at the sight he saw.
Scott was there. But he wasn't the Scott he had left last night. The shirt he was wearing was shredded, and his pants were covered in mud. Worst of all, he was soaking wet from head to toe, as if he had stepped into a lake or a river. Cold water droplets trickled from his hair to the floor, and his body was shaking uncontrollably. His gaze was vacant, as if he were trying to remember where he was or how he got there.