Work Text:
Laura heard them before she saw them - she smelled them before she saw them too, the two teenagers.
She looked over at her brother, who rolled his eyes and held up an inhaler.
“So all this started with the bite,” one of them is saying. He smells a little bit like the sheriff, must be his son.
The other one is saying something stupid about infections but the sheriff’s kid hits the nail on the head.
“Lycanthropy.”
She looks over at her brother, his eyes wide. “We have to say something,” Laura whispers. But Derek shakes his head.
“The other kid can’t know.”
“Who, Stilinski?”
“You know him?”
“Use your nose, Derek. He smells like the sheriff.”
“Well, he can’t know about us.”
“Sounds like he already does.”
Laura sighs. None of this was meant to happen. The dead hiker, the rogue alpha biting teenagers, returning to their home ten years after the fire. They should still be in New York right now, but they have to protect their mother’s land.
“Come on. Let’s just get them out of the woods before the alpha comes back to snack on Stilinski,” she gestures to Derek for the inhaler, which he tosses to her and she catches easily.
She takes off in the direction the teens are in, but Derek stays a couple yards behind her, scowl on his face and hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. He looks so much like their dad, she thinks sadly.
Finally in sight of the boys, she stops and waits for them to notice her. It’s Stilinski that does, and he gets his buddy’s attention. They look so lost and awkward that she almost wants to laugh.
“What are you doing here,” she asks, stalking forward. “This is private property.”