Chapter 7

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"No way! You're really gonna let me tag along?" Stiles asked his dad in awe, mouth agape. This had to be a dream!

"Well, I know you'll probably take my place as Sheriff one day, so I may as well show you the ropes." John smiled at his son, patting his back.

"I won't let you down!" Stiles beamed. "So, why do they want us to investigate the buses?"

"Someone inside the school called and said they heard noises coming from them. Bangs, crashes, yells. It might be some rowdy teens or drunks."

"Well, whoever it is, let's go arrest some idiots!" Stiles said cheerfully as he shucked on his red hoodie, following his dad into the police car. Once they arrived to the scene, stepping onto the silent bus, Stiles frowned. "Did they leave already?" Stiles pouted slightly. He was so hyped too.

"I don't know. Probably. Check to see if you can find any lost I.D's or alcohol. Drunks tend to drop things." John walked down the aisle, looking around for anything in the dark. Stiles looked fondly at his dad, searching for anything under seats when he noticed the bright moonlight pouring in through the window. He looked up slowly to find his eyes caught on the ripe full moon. His nails inched and his jaw ached.

"No...no, not now..." Stiles whispered to himself, scrambling away from the moon light.

"Stiles? Are you alright?" John asked in concern, kneeling by his son who was breathing heavily. "Is it another attack?" He said worryingly, hand on the side of his sons face where hair grew under it. "What the...?"

"Dad...Go. Run." Stiles pleaded. He couldn't move under the pressure of the full moon. Why was it so strong this time? Claws protruding from the nail bed sickeningly slow, fangs biting into his lips.

"Stiles? What's going on-"

"GO! I SAID LEAVE!" Stiles bellowed, brown eyes seeping into piercing yellows. Before he could stop himself, he lunged at his dad, claws slicing into flesh.

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"Scott. I think I killed my dad." Stiles doesn't even know how he made it to school in his state. The words slipped from his lax mouth, eyes glazed with shock and despair.

"What? Stiles, what are you talking about?" Scott led him through the halls with a hand on his back, into the boys bathroom.

"I killed him. Oh god, Scott, I killed him." Stiles clawed at his closed eyes, sinking down against the wall in horror. It was so vivid in his mind.

"Stiles, explain what you mean. You're not making sense right now." Scott knelt in front of his sobbing friend, rubbing his back as to stop him from hyperventilating.

"I thought maybe it was a dream, since I was- I was back in bed the next morning, but- oh god, Scott, I haven't seen him since." He croaked. "I found specks of blood in my sink, Scott. His blood. Dads blood."

"Stiles, where?"

"The school bus." He choked out.

"We have to go there. Now. To make sure it was a dream. Only then can we know what to do from there. Okay, Stiles? Trust me." Scott's hand were trembling as it was.

"Okay, okay, I trust you." Scott pulled Stiles up, arm around his shoulder as they walked out. A few people looked at Stiles in confusion, not used to seeing the joyous idiot looking as pale as a ghost and tears stained on his cheeks. Stiles felt like a zombie, dreading to know the truth.

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