wayward // d. hale

sixteen

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Scott gasping awake is what rouses Willa from her own fitful sleep. She blinks blearily as she regains consciousness, stretching her arms out with a yawn. She yelps as she slips down in the leather chair and nearly topples to the floor.

"Welcome back to the land of the conscious, you two," Deaton smiles. He turns his focus toward Scott, rushing over to keep him upright when he clambers off the table. "You doing okay?"

Willa rubs the sleep from her eyes as she listens to Deaton advise Scott to sit down. The bell above the door in the lobby chimes. Willa checks the time on her phone as Scott and Deaton share an uneasy look. There's still an hour before the clinic opens, so unless it's someone here for an emergency with their pet... but then again they haven't been able to catch a break lately, have they? And if it were a patient here for an emergency, they would be frantic, but the clinic is eerily silent.

"Hello?" Deaton calls, but remains unanswered.

Willa holds up a hand to Scott, silently telling him to remain in the back as she and Deaton head to the lobby to see who it is. He pleads silently not to go, but she ignores the look and instead gives him one of reassurance.

"I'm sorry, but we'reー" Deaton's mouth snaps shut as the two round the corner and see who it is. How Deaton knows Peter Hale Willia's unsure, but her own jaw tightens with unbridled rage at the sight of him. There's a short pause as the three take each other in, then Deaton finishes his original thought with finality, "We're closed."

Peter smiles, apparently deciding to just ignore the vet, "Hi there. I'm here to pick up."

Willa stands a bit straighter as she glares daggers at the manーso he knows Scott is here. Why wouldn't he, he can probably smell him, can't he? she thinks to herself. He meets her gaze for only a split second before he goes back to smiling pleasantly at Deaton.

Deaton doesn't let the alpha deter him, instead casually placing his hands in his pockets as he responds, "I'm not sure I remember you dropping off."

Peter scoffs quietly, raising an unamused brow as he steps closer to them. "This one wandered in on its own."

"Sorry, we haven't had any strays come in for a while. And even if we did, it's like he saidーwe're closed," Willa gives him her own sickly sweet smile. Peter bares his teeth in a warning grin. She merely blinks back at him, her mouth curving upward in a smirk.

"I think you can make an exception this one time. Don't you?"

Deaton shakes his head, "I'm sorry, that's not going to be possible. Maybe you could come back during regular hours."

The pleasantness that Peter had kept on his face during their conversation drops in a split second. He tilts his head up for a moment before glaring back at the two vets in front of him. "You have something of mine," he accuses. "I'm here to collect it."

Willa has no idea how Deaton is able to keep his cool when there's an alpha werewolf stood not five feet from them making barely concealed threats, but the man steps forward while keeping his eyes locked on Peter's, "Like I said, we're closed."

Peter finally gets fed up enough to reach for the gate on the half-wall that separates the lobby from the back of the clinic, but hesitates before grabbing it. A rather bewildered expression takes over his face for a moment before he goes right back to glaring at Deaton. "Mountain ash," he says it like a statement, but it's really more of an accusation. "That's an old one."