don't worry, scotty. i can give you the money back for the tattoo.

[ 3.01 ]

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture," the tattoo artists muttered sarcastically.

Willow, Scott, and Stiles found themselves in a tattoo shop, and the tattooist was less than impressed with the drawing that Scott gave him for reference. It resembled an equal sign with the top line much thicker than the bottom.

Scott smiled sheepishly at the man, his sleeve rolled up as he sat in the chair, ready to begin.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles asked. He held up one of the art books that showed a drawing of a monstrous lizard creature that resembled the kanima. Both Scott and Willow gave him disapproving looks. "Too soon? Yeah. I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott told him.

"Okay, but why two bands?" he asked.

"I just like it," he said, shrugging.

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?" Stiles questioned. "Wills said hers has meaning even though she won't tell us what it is. Or where it's at."

Stiles playfully narrowed his eyes at Willow. Willow, as an early birthday present to herself, decided to get a tattoo with Scott. She had gone first, wanting to get it over before she inevitably chickened out. In doing so, she made both Scott and Stiles leave the room, and Stiles had done nothing but complain about it the whole time.

"Getting a tattoo means something," Scott stated. The actual action meant more than the two bands.

"I don't think that's—"

"He's right," the tattoo artist said, taking a seat next to Scott. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word "tatua" means "to leave a mark." Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it," Scott said, nodding.

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally," Stiles pointed out.

"Okay, you ready?" the tattooist asked Scott, who nodded. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you? The little lady went through half a box of tissues crying."

"Nope," Scott assured him.

As the tattooist began working on Scott, Stiles peered over his shoulder to watch. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..."

Stiles trailed off as he fainted suddenly. Willow sighed before crouching down and propping his back up against the wall. Really, if she of all people could put up with getting a tattoo without fainting, then Stiles should at least be able to watch — he had certainly seen gorier things.

It wasn't long before Scott's tattoo was finished and bandaged. After paying, the three of them made their way out to Stiles' jeep.

As he took a seat on the passenger's side, Scott grimaced and looked at his arm. "Oh, man."

"You okay?" Stiles asked.

"Kinda burns," he admitted, wincing.

"Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred thousand times with a needle," he muttered.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this," he said.

"Mine really only stings a little," Willow said, frowning. "Something might be wrong with it."

Scott then groaned in pain. "No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this. Oh, I gotta take this thing off."

Stiles freaked out as Scott started to peel the bandages off. "No, no, no, no, Scott. Oh, Scott, please stop. Whoa, whoa."

"Oh, no, what?" They watched as the skin on Scott's arm turned red before the tattoo disappeared completely. "No, no, come on. It healed."

"Ah, thank God," Stiles said, sighing. "I hated it. Sorry."

Scott looked absolutely crushed that the tattoo was gone. Not only did he like it, but it was a waste of money, which he didn't have a lot of.

"Does yours do that too?" Stiles asked hopefully, looking at Willow in the backseat. "Wherever the hell it is?"

"No, it's not going to disappear. And no, you can't see it," she said, crossing her arms. "Let's just get going. And don't worry, Scotty. I can give you the money back for the tattoo. I know you saved up for it."

"Thanks," Scott mumbled, appreciating the gesture. "Great way to start the new school year. No tattoo. No Allison."

"Have you seen her at all? Either of you?" Stiles asked, glancing at Willow in the rearview mirror.

Things had been... different between Willow and Allison. Of course, Allison still hated Derek and therefore had trouble looking Willow in the eye given that they were dating. And Willow had trouble looking her in the eye because she didn't know if she'd see the same Allison looking back.

It tore Willow apart how easily Allison had turned on them all. It hurt to know that Allison was there that night in the police station and saw Willow dying on the ground and yet did nothing to help. Allison hadn't visited her in the hospital or at home while she was recovering from being shot.

And even though she had apologized right before leaving for France, for the first time, Willow had a difficult time forgiving her. And that inability to forgive of course made Willow feel incredibly guilty. She only hoped that things could return to normal with the arrival of a new school year.

"No," Willow answered. "No, I haven't talked to her."

"Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer — no texts, no calls," Scott explained.

"So then how do you know she won't be back at school then?" Stiles asked. Willow knew for a fact that Allison was back. Lydia had told her that she was taking Allison out on some kind of double date for the night.

"After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all," Scott admitted as they pulled up to a red light.

"I think she is," Stiles said, looking past Scott and out the window. "I'd say pretty definite, you know. Like one hundred percent."

Scott and Willow didn't understand what he was getting at until he nodded to the window. They both turned to see Lydia's car stopped right beside them, and Allison was sitting in the passenger seat, laughing at something. Scott was stunned, not expecting to see her so soon.

And then Allison turned, spotting Scott and her smile dropped instantly.

"Oh, my God," Scott muttered, immediately dropping to try and hide. "Oh..."

"I'm pretty sure she already saw you, Scott," Willow told him, reaching up to pat his shoulder.

"Can we just drive please, Stiles?" he asked, panic in his tone.

"Scott, it's a red light," he reminded him.

"I think we should talk to her, I just think we should say something," Stiles said.

"No. No, no, Stiles, come on," Scott said. But Stiles ignored him and reached to roll down the window. "Oh, my God, dude, no."

"Hey!" Stiles shouted, waving at the girls. Then Lydia's car shot off, running the red light without even acknowledging them. "You know, they probably didn't see us."

"I'm sure that's it," Willow said, biting back an amused smile.

It was a few more seconds before the light turned green, and Stiles continued driving. The right lane dropped off, meaning that they had no choice but to follow directly behind them.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked, nervously staring at the back of Lydia's car.

Stiles looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm driving."

"We're right behind them."

"Okay, well, do you see any turns?" he asked.

"I don't want it to look like we're following them," Scott said.

"Scott, they obviously know we aren't following them," Willow said, trying to make him feel better.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Stiles asked him.

"I don't know, anything," he said, still freaking out.

Stiles sighed in annoyance before slamming on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road. Will had to grab the back of his seat to stop from smacking into it.

"Yeah, because stopping in the middle of the road is less suspicious than driving behind them," Willow said, shaking her head. "Scott, you just need to talk to her. Or else the entire semester will be like this."

"You're right," Scott muttered. Then he nodded to Stiles. "She's right. Keep going."

"Uh, guys. They stopped too," Stiles noted, pointing ahead of them. Lydia's car was stopped in the middle of the road a few yards away.

"Why are they stopping?" Scott asked, beginning to get nervous again.

"Probably because we stopped. They might think we have car trouble," Willow pointed out. "Just drive up and meet them."

However, before Stiles could hit the gas, a huge deer ran straight down the middle of the road and barreled into Lydia's car, crashing through the windshield. Lydia and Allison's screams reached their ears as they scrambled out of the jeep to check on them. The girls ran out, getting far away from the car and the deer.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, grabbing Allison.

"It came out of nowhere," Lydia said as Stiles and Willow checked on her.

"Are you hurt?" Stiles asked.

"It ran right into us," she said, not answering him. Seeing that she was shaking, Willow wrapped an arm around her and let Lydia lean on her.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked Allison again.

"I'm okay," she assured him.

"Well, I'm not okay!" Lydia snapped. "I am totally freaking out. How the hell does it just run into us? I saw its eyes right before it hit us. It was like it - it was like it was crazy."

"No, it was scared," Scott said, slowly walking to the front side of the car. He gently placed his hand to the slowly dying deer's side. "Actually... terrified."

☽︎

Willow stood in front of her mirror Monday morning, carefully sliding a headband on her head as she finished getting ready for the first day of school. Then a hand brushed her hair to the side so that he could place a kiss to her neck.

"Derek," she said with a smile. "Stop. I have to go to school."

"Would it kill you to be late just once?" he asked, his fingers slipping under the hem of her sweater as he held her waist.

Willow scoffed before turning to face him. "Yes," she said in a flat tone.

Derek shook his head and laughed. "Don't know why I even asked."

Standing on her toes, Willow quickly kissed him. "I'll see you after school. And let me know if you hear from Isaac."

They hadn't heard from the beta in a few days, and given that Boyd and Erica had already been missing for months, they were rightfully worried.

After saying goodbye to Derek — who exited through the window in spite of the fact that Warren definitely knew he snuck in the night before — Willow bounded downstairs. She had a quick breakfast with her father, who made waffles. Then after placing a quick kiss on Scribbles' head, she was gone for the day, meeting Scott and Stiles at school.

"You wanna ask Derek for help?" Stiles asked, clearly annoyed. Scott was still trying to solve his tattoo problem. "Why?"

"Well, he does have that tattoo of the triskele on his back," Willow noted. She had practically memorized that well-defined back and the marking in the center, as embarrassing as it was to admit.

"Yeah, so there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?" Scott asked. Though Derek was born a werewolf, he still healed the same.

"Okay, yeah, but still, doesn't he have his hands a little full?" Stiles asked. They walked past a bulletin board where the posters of Erica and Boyd were pinned up, declaring them as missing.

The summer wasn't just spent with Willow and Derek blissfully spending every moment together. In addition to a month-long stay in New York with her father, Willow was also away for several weeks at two different cheerleading camps in Texas and Louisiana. And Derek was busy as well, out with Peter and Isaac almost every night searching for Erica and Boyd.

"I think if he has time to give Willow hickies, he has time to help me," Scott couldn't help but state.

Willow's cheeks burned as she made sure the collared shirt under her sweatshirt was still pulled up. Stiles and Scott both snickered childishly, loving that it was still so easy to fluster her after months of her and Derek dating.

As they continued to walk, they passed the principal's office and overheard Principal Newman — who Gerard had replaced — ordering people around his office.

"Look, these are the applications for the career advisor. I need them sorted. And whatever happened to the library while I was gone, I want it cleared up. And what the hell is this?"

The three of them peeked in the door to see him holding up Gerard's sword meant for cutting werewolves in half. Stiles quickly pushed Willow down the hall before they could be seen.

"Go, go, go," he whispered, making her giggle.

"Okay, I have to go to my locker and meet Lydia, but I'll see you both in first period," Willow told them.

"Are you going to talk to Allison?" Scott asked, knowing she'd be with Lydia.

"I'm not going to ignore her, Scott. That's rude."

"Leaving you for dead in a puddle of your own blood was rude," Stiles muttered under his breath. "But yeah, see you in English."

Willow shook her head at his overly chipper tone meant to mock her, not taking it to heart. She passed lots of new faces on the way to Lydia, making sure to smile at any Freshman that she met eyes with. Plenty of people that she already knew greeted her from girls on the squad to lacrosse players and members of the cross-country team.

"There she is," Lydia said, beaming when she spotted Willow approaching. "My adorable, sweet, recently-tattooed best friend."

Rolling her eyes playfully, Willow let Lydia kiss her cheek.

"You got a tattoo? You?" Allison asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. Last night," Willow told her. "Scott and I both. He kept me from backing out."

"I expect you to let me see it once it's healed," Lydia stated, the only one to know what and where the tattoo was. "And let me know how Derek reacts when he finds out. I bet it just drives him crazy, wondering where it's at."

As Lydia smirked, Willow once again rolled her eyes. But Allison grew tense and started reorganizing her locker to avoid talking about Derek. Willow cleared her throat, not wanting things to be awkward on the first day.

"So, how was France?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"It was good. My dad and I really needed a break," Allison told her, managing a smile. "Um, how was New York? I saw your pictures on Instagram, and it looked fun."

"I had a great time. We go every year, and Dad stays pretty busy meeting with board members and investors for a few charities started by our family over the years," she said, shrugging. "But I go for the shopping and Broadway shows."

"Speaking of, I hope you brought me back a killer outfit," Lydia said, grinning. "I always look forward to the New York gift haul."

"You'll love everything," she assured her. Then she glanced at Allison. "And I've got a pair of boots and a jacket with your name written all over them."

"You didn't have to get me anything," she said, shaking her head and feeling guilty. "Not - not after—"

"I wanted to," Willow told her. "And you're literally not gonna be able to say no once you see them. I can't keep them either, because they're a little too edgy to fit my style."

"It's cute that you think Allison's clothes are considered edgy," Lydia said, laughing as she leaned against the lockers. Then again, everything was edgy when compared to Willow, who only wore pastels and pleated skirts and soft preppy sweaters.

As Allison fished out the rest of her books, Lydia let her eyes wander around the hall. She took in all the new faces — the new male faces.

"Freshmen. Tons and tons of fresh men," she drawled.

"You mean fresh boys," Allison said in disbelief. "Lydia, they're fourteen. For comparison, Willow will be eighteen in a few days."

"Doesn't count. She's a year older," Lydia said, waving her off. "And some are more mature than others."

"You know, it's okay to be single," Allison stated. "Focus on yourself for a little while, work on becoming a better person."

"Allison, I love you," Lydia said with a sigh. "So if you need to do that thing where we talk about me and pretend like we're not actually talking about you, it's totally fine. But I don't want a boyfriend. I want a distraction."

And it didn't take Lydia long at all to find her distraction. It came in the form of two boys wrapped in leather and motorcycle helmets in their hands instead of textbooks.

"Brothers?" Allison questioned, spotting them as well.

Willow shook her head, already amused by the way that Lydia was undressing them with her eyes.

"Twins."

After pulling Lydia's focus away from the twins, the three girls made their way to the English classroom. The teacher hadn't arrived yet as students continued to file in. Willow smiled at Scott and Stiles before taking a front-row seat right by the window. Lydia soon took the seat behind her.

Allison was left standing, searching for an empty seat. And the only one left was right in front of Scott, who was nervously looking around for another seat as well.

It was awkward for a moment before she took the seat. Willow shook her head, knowing that she and Scott needed to work things out or it'd be like that all year. And that would be unbearable for all their friends.

Willow busied herself with pulling out her designated notebook for the class, her pens and highlighters, and the first book from the list they were given over the summer. They didn't have to read them, but it was recommended as they'd be covering them over the semester. Willow, of course, read them all, and Scott, surprisingly, read them as well.

Then at the exact same time, everyone's phone went off, signaling that they got a text. Willow's had already been put on silent, but it buzzed on top of the desk. As she picked it up to read the lengthy text, someone came in the room, reading the passage aloud.

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness," the woman read.

Willow recognized it from the book Heart of Darkness, the very book on her desk.

"This is the last line to the first book we are going to read," the teacher explained. "It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

After putting her phone away, Willow watched as the teacher wrote her name on the board — Ms. Blake.

It hadn't even been two minutes since the bell rang before Principal Newman came into the room, whispering to Ms. Blake.

"Mr. McCall?" she called, nodding to the hallway.

Scott, though not sure what it was about, gathered his things and followed her out. And when Ms. Blake returned, Scott wasn't with her.

Willow wondered what could be so important for him to miss the first class of the first day.

Once back in the room, Ms. Blake began writing the assigned chapters on the board that were due at the end of the week. Though Willow had already finished the book, she still copied down the assignment so that she could refresh herself for any in-class discussions.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles whispered. Both Lydia and Willow looked at him. "What is that? Is that from the accident?"

Willow craned her neck to see a skin-colored bandage wrapped around Lydia's ankle, blending in fairly well.

"No," she told him. "Prada bit me."

"Your dog?"

"No, my designer handbag," she said sarcastically. Willow giggled before looking back at her notebook. "Yes, my dog."

"Has it ever bitten you before?" he asked.

Willow didn't have to look at Lydia to know that she shook her head. Prada was always a well-behaved dog.

"Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?" Stiles asked, something feeling off. And when things felt off, Stiles felt the need to investigate.

"Meaning what?" Lydia asked, rolling her eyes. "There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or something. I just... maybe it means something's coming. Something bad," he said.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes?" Lydia asked, twirling a piece of hair. "Once, twice—"

Suddenly a crow flew straight into the window, blood spattering along the cracked glass. Willow flinched and leaned away from the window, staring at the blood in horror. The bird had just flown into the window and killed itself.

Ms. Blake came near the window slowly to study it only to freeze. There seemed to be hundreds of birds flying toward the school, none of them slowing down or changing directions.

Another bird smashed into the window. Then another and another. As the next hit, the window broke, letting the crows in.

It was chaos as the birds flew into the room, beaks and talons attacking people. Willow screamed as black feathers took over her vision. She cried as she felt them scratch her. She crawled under her desk, keeping her arms over her face so that they wouldn't get her eyes.

"Get down, everyone! Get down, down. Get down!" Ms. Blake shouted, pulling students from their desks and covering their heads. "Get down!"

Someone had grabbed Willow and covered her, but she didn't uncurl herself to see. It was Stiles who grabbed both her and Lydia, doing his best to keep the crazy birds away from them.

Before long, the screams died down as the birds either died from crashing into walls or they flew back out the window. When it was finally over, Stiles coaxed Willow's head out of her arms. She looked up and saw feathers and dead birds littering the room. Desks and books were all out of place, and every student was still looking around, terrified.

It was a good minute before Ms. Blake could even register what happened to call for help. And they weren't the only room in such a state. Each room with windows on that side of the school went through a similar attack.

No one was permitted to leave until EMTs arrived, as well as the police. Everyone was checked over. Most just needed light bandages for their scratches, but a few students needed stitches for deeper wounds from the birds.

Willow sat on top of a desk, leaning tiredly against Stiles. He was typing furiously, trying to get ahold of Scott. All those that were in the bird rooms were permitted to go home for the day, and Stiles wanted to go to Scott. He just needed to find out where Scott was.

But he did stop when he saw Ms. Blake out of the corner of his eye. The new teacher looked thoroughly traumatized with a far-off look in her eyes. She also had feathers sticking out of her matted hair.

"Ms. Blake? You okay?" Stiles called, trying to snap her out of it. He carefully reached to get a feather, only for her to flinch, finally realizing that someone was talking to her. "Uh, sorry, just... that."

She looked at the feather in his hand with wide eyes but still didn't say anything. Stiles sighed and went back to the desk, letting Willow lean against him.

Chris Argent was there, the first person that Allison called. "Next time you're feeling you wanna stay home, you stay home," he said, looking at the scratches on her hands.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "But, Dad, the deer, and now this?"

Chris sighed. "I know, I know." Something was happening, and likely something bad.

"It can't be a coincidence," Allison muttered.

"Mr. Argent, you wouldn't have any insight into this, would you?" Noah asked, walking over to him.

"Me?"

"Yeah. All this bizarre animal behavior, it's - you must have seen something like this before, right?"

"I'm not sure why I would or why you would think I would," Chris said with a nervous smile.

Noah's friendly expression faltered. "I'm sorry. I - I could've sworn I overheard my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter."

Willow hid her face in Stiles' shoulder as Chris looked over at him accusingly. "Ah, right. Well, not anymore," Chris told him, letting him know he'd be no help.

And it was true that he quit hunting. Chris wasn't even continuing those training sessions with Willow, who, admittedly, was glad as she hated them.

Noah nodded in understanding before glancing at Allison. "You all right?"

"Yeah."

Stiles looked at his father in disbelief, unable to believe he overheard a conversation about Chris being a hunter and decided to question the man on it. The sheriff came back over to them then.

"Willow, Stiles can drive you home if you don't feel well enough to take yourself," Noah offered for his son.

"Thank you. I think I'll be taking him up on that offer," she said, smiling weakly. Once Noah walked off, she looked back at Stiles. "Are you gonna call Scott?"

"Yeah. Come on. Let's head to the car," he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the classroom. With his other hand, he dialed Scott. "We got a serious problem at school," Stiles said right away, not even giving Scott a chance to greet him. "Ms. Blake's class—"

Willow frowned as Scott cut him off, saying something quickly. "Well, no, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion," Stiles replied. There was another moment of silence for Willow before Stiles grimaced. "Derek's house? What the hell are you doing at—"

Stiles scoffed at whatever Scott said before hanging up.

"I'm guessing we're going to Derek's house," Willow said as they got outside. She wondered why they were there, as he didn't live there. Derek had a fairly nice loft on the other side of town, which was much nicer than a burned-down house.

As it turned out, Scott was delivering an unconscious Isaac to Derek's house. He had been at the hospital, where some other alpha werewolf attacked Scott. Thankfully, Derek arrived and helped save him.

In addition to bringing Isaac there for safety, Scott was doing exactly what he wanted. Asking Derek for help with the tattoo.

"Yeah, I see it," Derek said, crouching down in front of Scott's arm. His eyes were glowing red, helping him see the tattoo that was under the skin. "It's two bands, right? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It's just something I traced with my fingers," Scott mumbled while drawing two circles in the dust on the table.

"Why is this so important to you?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. He needed to make sure Scott really wanted the tattoo given what he had to go through to get it.

"Do you know what the word "tattoo" means?" Scott asked him.

"To mark something," Stiles said proudly. Willow held off a giggle as he winked at Derek.

"Well, that's in Tahitian," Scott told him. "In Samoan, it means "open wound." I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make it kind of a reward."

"For what?" Derek asked.

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer," Scott finally admitted. Now that there wasn't a stranger with a tattoo gun next to him, he didn't mind being honest about why he wanted the tattoo. "Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes. I was trying to give her the space she wants. Goin' four months later, it still hurts. It still feels like a, uh..."

"Like an open wound," Stiles finished for him, finally understanding why the tattoo was so important. He felt a little bad for mocking it now.

"Yeah," Scott nodded.

"The pain's gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt," Derek warned.

"Ah, that's great," Stiles muttered.

"Do it," Scott said, not backing out.

Then Derek grabbed a blowtorch, lighting the fire. Willow and Stiles both went pale, realizing just how Derek was going to unearth the tattoo.

"Oh, wow," Stiles muttered, feeling woozy. "That's a... that's a lot for me. So I'm gonna take that as my cue. I'm just gonna wait outside."

"Nope. You can help hold him down," Derek told him. Then he glanced at Willow. "Willow, shut your eyes and cover your ears."

She let out a nervous squeak before doing just that, also moving to the other side of the living room. But even covering her ears did nothing to block Scott's agonizing screams once the flames hit his skin.

"Oh, my God!" Stiles exclaimed.

"Hold him!" Derek snapped as Scott kept trying to come up out of the chair.

Eventually, Scott had no choice but to pass out from the pain. That made Stiles' job easier, who just stood to the side in case he woke back up. But at the end of it all, Scott had a tattoo.

Derek placed a hand on Willow's shoulder, letting her know it was finished. She sighed in relief, glancing at the unconscious Scott who was covered in a sheen of sweat. As she did, Derek lightly brushed his thumb over one of the shallow scratches on her cheek left from the birds.

"Please tell me that you wouldn't be stupid enough to put a blowtorch to your skin if your tattoo would have disappeared," Stiles said, shaking his head as he looked at Willow.

"Absolutely not," she said, a chill running down her spine as she thought of Scott's screams. "That was horrible, and I didn't even watch."

"You got a tattoo?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me this morning?"

Stiles was speaking for her before she got the chance. "She didn't tell you because she's ashamed. It's somewhere naughty."

"Stiles!" Willow hissed, spinning on her heel to glare at him. "No, it's not."

"Um, yes it is. There's no other reason why you won't tell Scott and me what it is or where it's at, so it's gotta be in a naughty place," he said, putting his hands on his hips. Then he smirked at her. "Is it a butterfly tramp stamp? Or somewhere worse?"

"N - no!" Willow stuttered, her cheeks bright pink. "It's not - it's not — Stiles!"

"Stiles, stop making her uncomfortable," Derek said, coming up behind Willow and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Or I'm gonna light your hair on fire with the blowtorch."

"Big talk coming from the guy that's gonna get to see it probably," Stiles muttered before stomping childishly over to Scott, waiting for him to wake up. He couldn't risk losing the hair he'd only just finished growing out.

"Thank you," Willow told Derek, turning to face him again.

"Stiles is just being annoying as usual," he said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you probably just want it to heal before you show everyone so that it can be a surprise. He's impatient."

Willow was blushing again, which he took note of and raised an eyebrow.

"W - well, I can't show it to them," she said quietly. "It - they can't look there."

Maybe Stiles wasn't totally wrong about how appropriate the placement of the tattoo was.

Derek's eyes panned down her body without meaning to. It was hardly his fault, and also hardly the first time he'd thought about all the parts of Willow he'd yet to see. "And, um, is it somewhere I can look?"

Willow bit her lip nervously, her hands playing with the front of his t-shirt shyly. "Maybe," Willow said softly, looking up at him innocently.

"Oh," was all he said, his voice deeper and eyes darkening as he placed his hands on her waist.

But then Scott woke abruptly, the chair rocking against the ground and making a sound. Willow pulled away from Derek to look at him. Scott was staring down at the tattoo that wasn't disappearing this time.

"It worked," he said happily. Stiles pat him on the shoulder as he got up and rolled his shirt sleeve back down.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles told him.

"Yeah. I kind of needed something permanent," Scott said as the three of them walked toward the door. "Everything that's happened to us... everything just changes so fast. Everything's so, uh... ephemeral."

Willow looked at Scott, impressed. Clearly, he was using the word of the day app that she had suggested, and it seemed to be working.

"Studying for the PSATs?" Stiles asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Nice," he told him.

"The 'Be a Better Scott McCall Program' gets results," Willow said, bumping Scott's shoulder.

Before they could make it outside, Scott stopped and stared at the front door. Willow was surprised she didn't notice before, but now it stuck out like a sore thumb. The front door had been painted bright red.

Why paint the door of a house you don't use?

"You painted the door," Scott noted. "Why'd you paint the door?"

"Go home, Scott," Derek said, not meeting his eyes.

"And why only one side?" Willow asked, moving the door to look at the other side. It was still a faded brown color.

Scott carefully took a clawed finger and dragged it across the paint, peeling it up. Through the thin line, they saw something black on the door.

"Scott," Derek said in a warning tone, coming closer.

But he didn't listen. Scott quickly attacked the door, red paint flying as he scratched away at it. Willow had to cover her eyes to keep the flecks from getting in them. And once Scott was done, they saw just what Derek was hiding.

It was a symbol of some sort, one that reminded them of the triskele. Only it was like a triangle with sharper edges. And the way that it was spray-painted on the front of Derek's old home felt like a threat. A warning.

It was the symbol of another pack.

"The birds at school and the deer last night," Scott mumbled, looking at Derek. "Just like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the Alpha. How many are there?"

"A pack of 'em. An Alpha pack," Derek revealed.

"All of them?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader. He's called Deucalion," he told them. "We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac, and I have been looking for him for the last four months."

"They've been in town for four months?" Willow asked, shocked by the information. How had they all gone four months, blissfully unaware of the threat that was lurking around them? That was studying them before interfering?

"Let's say you find them. How do you deal with an Alpha pack?" Scott asked him.

"With all the help I can get," Derek told him. And that told them how much of a threat this pack was. Derek Hale didn't ask for help.

Suddenly, Isaac woke up, gasping loudly. "Where is she? Where's the girl?" he asked frantically.

They all looked at him, none of them knowing what he meant. Derek raised an eyebrow, having no clue about the girl that had been brought to the hospital with Isaac.

"What girl?"

☽︎

Willow walked down the empty school hallway. It was her free period, and she had to return a book to the school library. However, when she heard the rhythmic tapping of something coming around the hallway, she went to investigate.

Just as she turned the corner, she practically ran into a man. Though neither fell to the ground, he dropped whatever it was that he was holding.

A walking cane meant to help lead a blind person.

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Sir," Willow said, crouching down to pick up the cane as quickly as she could. Guilt washed over her.

"It's no problem," the man assured her.

"Here's your cane," she said, carefully placing it back in his hand. "And really, I feel horrible. I shouldn't have come around the corner so quickly."

"Really, young lady, no harm was done," he said. "Though, if it wouldn't trouble you, could you lead me to the exit? My driver is waiting."

"Of course. Would you like my arm?" she offered, smiling though he couldn't see it. As he let her guide him through the hallways, she struck up a conversation. "What brings you to the school? Are you a parent?"

"Ah, yes. My boys have shown interest in joining the cross-country team, and I decided to speak to the Coach. I was already here to sign the rest of their transfer paperwork."

"Oh, I'm on the cross-country team. We'll be happy to have them," she said. "So, are they not freshmen if they transferred here?"

"Juniors. You may have seen them. Ethan and Aiden — twins," he informed her.

"I haven't been introduced yet, but I've got a few classes with them. I'll be sure to get to know them, especially since they'll be on the team," she told him. They were almost to the exit. "Are they fast?"

"Extraordinarily so," he said, smiling to himself.

"Well, not to brag, but I'll give them a run for their money — pun intended." The joke made him chuckle. "I'm the fastest in the state."

"An astounding accomplishment."

"Thank you," she said. "Alright, we're going through the door, and then you'll have five steps."

There was a large man waiting at the curb with a very nice car. He was huge with a bald head. And the way he looked at Willow made her skin crawl.

"We're at your car," Willow told the man, who released his hold on her and went back to using his cane.

His driver opened the door for him to get in. But the man did turn his head in Willow's direction.

"Thank you for escorting me, Willow. It's been lovely meeting you."

"You as well," she said, smiling politely.

But then as the car drove away, a sinking feeling settled within her.

Willow never told the blind man her name.