All the Wrong Reasons

“We’ve got an omega problem.”

“Yeah, there seems to be an infestation of them lately.”

At that, the young woman pulled her head back in mock offense, gaze snapping to the man just in time to see a flicker of a smirk appear on his lips. She pursed hers in response, giving an indignant little snort before rolling her eyes at him. “Please! As if you aren’t thrilled that you found me wandering the woods last week.”

The ghost of a smirk was back as he shifted in his seat, leaning so that his elbows rested on the table between them. “You mean when I saved your ass from the Argents?”

Again, she rolled her eyes, reaching forward and snatching up the picture of who she’d been told was Chris Argent. She sent a glance at it before turning it to her alpha, both of her eyebrows arching at him in challenge. “These guys? I was already out of their range, and I would have lost them in no time on my own, thank you very much,” she told him, a sarcastic little smile on her face for emphasis. The smile dropped after a moment to be replaced with a pointed stare. “But seriously; you are aware of the omega in the territory, right? Because something tells me he isn’t nearly as desirable as me.”

For a second, Derek looked as if he was about to add a sarcastic little response of his own, but he seemed to change his mind, instead nodding simply and leaning back in his chair. “You scented him, too, then? He was west of the town yesterday; I’m going to try to track him down tonight.”

“I’ll help,” Samantha supplied, accenting the offer by slapping the photo back down onto the table. There was a wide smile on her lips as she looked back up at the man, her head tilting sweetly. She nearly laughed at the way he rolled his eyes at her; they seemed to do that a lot.

“If you’ve got all the paperwork done and everything’s set up for tomorrow,” he conceded, an eyebrow of his own arched in question, as if he suspected she hadn’t completely all of her assigned tasks.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll be the newest member of Beacon Hills High School’s sophomore class,” she proudly declared, before letting her grin fall into an overdramatic scowl. “You so owe me for making me take Chemistry again, for the record.”

He rolled a shoulder. “You need to get a diploma at some point, you know.”

“But I didn’t need to go back to sophomore year to do it; I did finish my Junior year before... well, everything, you know. I’ve already got credit for Chemistry.”

As expected, though, Derek’s expression was completely unsympathetic. “Then it should be a piece of cake. Now, come on, let’s review.”

She didn’t bother to object, leaning forward and eyeing the collection of scattered photos with boredom. “Scott McCall,” she announced, finger landing on the image of the black-haired teenager, “your on-again off-again werewolf buddy.” She took supreme pleasure in the darkening of his glare, but left it at that and instead moved her finger to the next photo. “Allison Argent, an Argent. Jackson Whittemore, turning on the full moon. Lydia Martin, also turning on the full moon. Stiles Stilinski, human with a really unfortunate name who knows about all things supernatural. Alan Deaton, probably not just a veterinarian.” Finger pulling away from the final picture, she let her hand fold into a fist and propped her chin up on it. “Did I pass?”

He didn’t appear pleased by her cocky attitude, but he also didn’t appear irritated enough to comment on it. “Don’t forget about the rest of the hunters.”

“Argents and Co., got it. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” he drew out, sarcastic smile back on her face. “Stop being a smart-ass."


“Go left, now!”

She didn’t hesitate to obey the command, launching out of her standstill and springing off to the left, dodging various trees as she went. She kept her movements as quiet as possible, but given that she was supposed to be going as fast as possible, her steps weren’t exactly the quietest. She veered off to the right, her gaze flickering between the trees ahead of her -- so that she didn’t run head-first into one -- and the ones to the right -- hoping to catch a glimpse of the omega they were tracking.

She came to a stop after a few hundred yards, a hand resting on one of the trees as she allowed her eyes to glow yellow, her predator gaze offering her a sharper perspective. Still, she came up with nothing, even as she strained her ears in an attempt to pick out even the slightest sound.

Normally, tracking a trespassing omega wouldn’t have been so supremely difficult, but with a handful of hunters in the same forest at the same time, it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

Footsteps! From the direction of them, it sounded as if they were Derek’s, and so Samantha was quick to launch forward again, this time cutting diagonally right so that one of them would hopefully be able to cut off the omega. The loud crashing noise from just a little ways ahead of them told her that their attempt wasn’t going to work out as planned, however.

She cursed under her breath, wondering what exactly the omega had gotten himself into -- and whether it involved the Argents. A hand landed on her shoulder just as she reached the edge of the woods, pulling her to a stop alongside her alpha.

Together, they surveyed the cemetery in front of them, the both of them checking for traps before letting their gazes land on the tipped-over backhoe and a grave that, though currently hidden from their view by a large gravestone, was anything but silent.

The hand on her shoulder lifted to give a single pat before the man beside her sprang forward in action, moving toward the grave and giving off a very alpha roar, one that had a head popping up from behind a gravestone and sending the omega sprinting off in the opposite direction. Though a part of her instinctively wanted to chase, she waited, looking to her alpha for the command.

Derek’s head gave a nod in the direction of the fallen backhoe, and when she listened carefully, Samantha was able to discern the sound of a racing heart and shallow breathing. Someone had been working, this late? Quickly, she moved toward the machine, helping the man to right it, before taking a step toward the newly-dug grave.

Once more, however, a hand appeared on her shoulder, her alpha giving a subtle shake of his head before nodding in the direction that the other werewolf had disappeared in. She didn’t ask for his reasoning, simply giving a little nod of acknowledgement before taking off. She was already leaving the cemetery and entering the woods again when Derek’s voice reached her ears. “Need a hand?”

She didn’t hear anything more of the conversation, too focused instead on the the sound of retreating footsteps that she could just barely make out in the distance. She could do it -- she could catch up to him. And so, her arms pumping at her sides and her breaths coming in short bursts, she pushed herself into her fastest sprint, her blonde hair whipping behind her in the breeze she was creating.

For the third time that night, however, just as she was starting to get close to catching up, a harsh voice appeared to the right, followed by a loud gunshot. Cursing again, she managed to skid to a halt and whip her head in the direction of the noise, one of her hands balling into a fist and then uncoiling a few times in an outward display of her agitation as she remained there for a moment, internally debating whether she should risk it.

A second gunshot, this time much louder, made the decision for her, causing her to kick back off of the ground and run off the way she had come. If she wanted to chase after the omega and not get caught by the hunters in the process, she’d need to backtrack a bit before looping back around and attempting to catch the man’s scent.


“He dug up a grave.”

“I know.”

Sighing, Samantha drew her bottom lip into her mouth, teeth biting down lightly. “What kind of an omega digs up a grave?”

The sound of a snort reached her ears, and she couldn’t help but allow her lips to pull into a small smirk. “The kind that isn’t nearly as desirable as you.”

Her smirk widened into a somewhat cocky grin, but she didn’t say anything more on the matter. Tilting her head, she allowed her gaze to trail over the scene before her, the cemetery not nearly as empty in the early morning light. She eyed each of the police officers, not particularly liking how close a few of them were to their current luring spot, before finally settling her attention on the Sheriff and the two civilians that were standing at the center of everything. Her gaze lingered on the curly-haired teen; he seemed nervous, but that was to be expected after everything he’d experienced in the past few hours, after all.

“How’d he react?” she asked after a moment, not bothering to even glance in her companion’s direction, still all too interested in observing the younger man’s posture.

“Surprisingly well,” Derek answered, her peripheral vision telling her that he’d cocked his head to the side as he spoke. “What do you think?”

“Of him?” she confirmed, tilting her head in consideration when her question didn’t earn a correction. Her ears tuned into the conversation for a moment, listening as the teen repeated that he hadn’t actually seen anything. “I think he has potential,” she decided, before letting out a quiet snort at the father’s interjection. She gave her head a little shake. “And,” she added after a moment, “I think that black eye of his had nothing to do with lacrosse.”

As if he knew that they were talking about him, the curly-haired boy looked up over the Sheriff’s shoulder, his eyes making contact with Derek before trailing over to her. She just stood there and looked back at him, hands tucked in her brown leather jacket’s pockets.

And then the Sheriff shifted just the slightest bit, and both Samantha and Derek darted off to the sides, each of them quick to hide themselves behind a tree so that they wouldn’t be seen. There wasn’t as much of a risk about being heard though, not when everyone behind them had human hearing.

“That omega is going to cause more trouble, you know. Are you sure you don’t want my help trying to track him down before the sun goes down and he does something like this again?” she asked, even though she was fairly certain that she already knew the answer. Letting her head roll to the side and ignoring the bark that caught her hair as she did, the blonde met Derek’s gaze.

“Already trying to get out of Chemistry?” he returned, before leaning forward and peering around the tree again. Apparently they were in the clear, for he stepped out from behind the cover toward her, gesturing with a jerk of his head for her to follow. “No, I want you to go to school like we planned, keep an eye on Jackson, and while you’re at it, keep an eye on Isaac, too.”

Keeping in stride with him, the teenager sent him a glance and pointed behind them in question. “Isaac Lahey?” she asked somewhat rhetorically in confirmation, thumb tossed over her shoulder as she repeated the name she’d heard the curly-haired boy recite for the Sheriff. “Can do.”

“He hasn’t made up his mind yet.”

Once more, her lips pulled into a wicked grin. “Then maybe I’ll give him a reason to.”

“Just keep an eye on him,” the alpha stressed, expression serious. As he gave her another once-over, his lips tugged down into a frown. “And don’t be late to school on your first day. Go!”


She wasn’t late to her first class.

Just as the bell rang, Samantha Lawrence skidded over the threshold into her history classroom, a victorious grin on her face despite the stern look she received from the teacher, who was already standing in front of the chalkboard as if he’d started the lecture before the class had even officially begun.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Lawrence,” the man drawled. “I trust you won’t make this a habit,” he added pointedly, before flicking a hand in the general direction of the class. “Now take a seat and get out your notebook.”

She didn’t argue, simply turning her attention to the rows of students now staring at her, her gaze sweeping over the different faces and very quickly picking out the two familiar ones that she recognized. There was good news and bad news; the good news was that McCall didn’t appear to be in the class, which meant she didn’t have to worry about explaining who she was or where she came from to the loner werewolf, but the bad news was that there were only two available open seats -- one right next to the hunter, and one right behind her.

She played it cool, walking to the seat with nothing but a friendly smile on her face as she passed by Allison Argent and made her way to the seat behind her. She dropped her bag by the side of the table, pulling out the chair and turning to the large teen she’d apparently be sharing a table with, only to have something behind the man catch her eye -- Isaac. He was looking at her from his seat across the room, though as soon as he realized she was looking back at him, he ducked his down and averted his gaze. Huh.

“Hi there,” she whispered as she turned her attention back to to her neighbor, dropping down into the seat but making no move to actually retrieve her notebook. “I’m Sam,” she offered instead, extending a hand, and smiling when he hesitantly took it.

“Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you! Now... want to tell me what you did to scare everyone off from being your desk partner?” she asked, a lopsided smile on her face as she attempted to break the ice. It didn’t work as planned, however, and when he frowned instead of chuckled, her own smile fell. Apparently she’d said something wrong.

Coughing quietly to cover up the awkwardness, the blonde went ahead and actually fished out her notebook then, though she wasn’t able to pay much attention to the lecture when she kept feeling eyes on the back of her head. She knew who was looking at her, of course, but every time she tried to arch an eyebrow back at him, his face quickly dropped down toward the table, his arm moving into place so that it blocked him from view.

The rest of the class went pretty much just like that -- the teacher droning on, her making a few under-the-breath comments that had Boyd making small noises that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter, and Isaac staring at the back of her head. Luckily, at no point was she ever asked to introduce herself, so she considered it a successful class.

The second the bell rang, she was up out of her seat, bag already tossed over her shoulder as she attempted to weave her way through the rushing students and catch a few moments with the curly-haired teen.

“Miss Lawrence!”

She had a strong urge to pretend she hadn’t heard the teacher call her name, but by the time that idea came to mind, she’d already paused in her step. Sighing, she turned back around, looping her second arm through the strap of her backpack as she waited to find out what was going on.

“I got the note informing me of your transfer, but it didn’t say anything about your previous coursework. Where did your class leave off?”

“Um...” She really should have thought to flip through the book before class... or at least actually listened to the lecture enough to know what unit they were on. “...Right about where we are now?”

Apparently her answer was sufficient, for the teacher gave a pleased nod. “Oh, good! Then there’s nothing you need to catch up on, and that means no excuses if you don’t do well on the upcoming midterm.” He fixed a smile in her direction, no doubt in response to the fact that he wouldn’t have extra work to do. “In that case, have a good rest of your first day.”

She was quick to nod in response, spinning right back around on her heels and making her way toward the door.

“And, Miss Lawrence?” he added just as she was about to turn the corner, earning a quiet sigh and a glance over the shoulder. “Be in your seat before the bell rings tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t give him time to add anything else before disappearing into the hallway.

And, of course, when she turned around, the hall was full of students but there was no sign of the one she’d been hoping to catch. Letting out a sigh, the eighteen year old raised a hand and ran it through her hair before pausing, pulling the hand back down, and looking at the now slightly-smudged class schedule she’d penned down on her palm earlier. The first two lines were now illegible, but she was pretty damn certain that it said 110. Taking a quick glance at the room number behind her, she turned to the right and started toward her next class.


It hadn’t said room 110.

She’d found the room, taken a seat toward the back of the class, taken out her notebook, and listened to ten solid minutes of lecture before she’d come to the realization that she was in the wrong class. She should have been able to tell immediately, since she most certainly was not enrolled in Senior English, but in her defense, when she hadn’t immediately been kicked out of the room by the teacher, she’d figured that pretty much confirmed she was in the right place. But of course, she’d chosen to stumble into what was probably one of less than five classrooms with a substitute, and after ten minutes of sitting there, she figured the appropriate time to switch classes had passed.

She still wasn’t sure what class she was supposed to have second period.

Shrugging off the thought, the blonde made her way down the hallway, already dreading the class that she knew was coming next -- Chemistry. A part of her wondered how possible it would be for her to pull off accidentally ending up in a second wrong class, but the second her eyes landed on a certain tall, hoodie-wearing teen about to step into the same classroom, she quickly reconsidered.

Seven quick steps forward had her at the young man’s side, her arm looping around the one he had resting at his side. Even as she felt him jerk a bit in surprise, she strengthened her grip, flashing a quick grin up at him. “We should talk,” she told him, leading him past the classroom and down the hall, her gaze quickly flickering over the different rooms in hope of finding an empty one.

“I-- I have a class now, though. I’m supposed to be in Chemistry, and--”

“So am I,” she interrupted, sending a wink his way just as they came upon one of the rooms without a class this period. She lead him in, shutting the door behind them and finally releasing his arm. “You can miss one class, can’t you, Isaac?”

“I don’t... I really think I need to be in class. I’m already not--” He didn’t sound like a blubbering idiot when he spoke or anything, but there were still minor hesitations.

“It’s just one class,” she pointed out, “and -- besides! -- you have a note explaining that you had a dentist appointment.”

“No I don’t,” he countered, his apprehensive expression morphing into one of confusion for a moment.

She grinned again, moving a few steps deeper into the room and tossing her backpack down onto the table. It took her two seconds to pull out a piece of paper and a pen and have herself propped up on one of the counters, legs crossed beneath her as she popped the cap off of the pen. “Well, you will in a moment,” she amended, waiting for a few seconds to see if he would object. His eyes darted from her to the door. “I mean, if you’d really rather sit through the pop quiz instead of taking it tomorrow -- maybe after studying a bit tonight? -- then we can just go to class.”

His eyes widened. “Pop quiz?”

Samantha simply nodded. “He walked by my last class talking about picking them up from the printing room.” Arching an eyebrow, she let the back of the pen tap down onto the notebook in her lap. “What’ll it be, Isaac? Quiz or conversation?”

The younger man sighed, looking torn for another moment before finally stepping further into the room and letting his own backpack fall to the ground. As he leaned back against one of the tables, his hands folding in his lap and apparently captivating his attention just as the bell rang.

“I promise our conversation will be more fun than the quiz,” she said as she jotted down the date, her handwriting a smooth cursive and her tone formal, having had a lot of practice impersonating a parent over the past few days. She didn’t say anything as she worked on writing out the note.

“You were with Derek Hale earlier,” he commented, the unspoken question obvious even as he glanced up at her and tucked his head down again.

“I am with Derek Hale,” she corrected, her own answer left to be implied from her words. She let the conversation die away for a moment as she scribbled down a messy signature, before rereading the note and giving her head an approving little bob. Tossing the pen and notebook aside, excuse note on top of it, she turned her full attention back to the young man, lips pursing as she considered him for a moment. “You’re nervous.”

“Look, if you’re worried that I might say anything or-- or tell anyone anything at all, I already promised Derek that I wouldn’t, and you don’t have to worry abou--”

“Isaac,” she interrupted, her head giving a little shake as she smiled at him, “I know. I’m not here to threaten you, so you can relax; I just thought we should chat.”

Her response didn’t appear to put him at ease. “About what?”

“Derek seems like the type to get things done quickly, so I thought maybe you’d want to ask some questions before you made up your mind, or just... I don’t know, talk out your options or something. Do you have any questions, Isaac?”

He looked up at her through thick eyelashes, seeming to consider her for a moment. “So you’re a...?” he trailed off, as if he was afraid to say the word.

She simply smiled. “Yes; I was born one, like Derek.”

“You’re not really a sophomore, are you?”

“Technically I am right now,” she replied, shrugging a shoulder in indifference, “but I’m not supposed to be, no. I just turned eighteen; I should be a senior right now, but... well, let’s just save that story for another day. It’s easiest if I’m a sophomore right now.”

“So that you can keep an eye on me.” He sounded so distrusting when he said it, and she almost wanted to laugh, but luckily realized that probably would have only added to the distrust.

She wasn’t able to contain the amused smile on her lips. “Isaac,” she tried again, voice as soothing of a tone as possible, “I’m really not here to threaten you, or to lurk in the shadows behind you as a constant reminder for you not to say anything. We weren’t at the cemetery this morning to do that, either,” she added, not even sure herself if that was a slight lie. At least, she knew for sure that wasn’t the main reason. “We just wanted to make sure you were holding up and everything. You had an... interesting experience yesterday, and you got a lot of new information that you probably weren’t prepared for. How are you--”

She cut herself off, her sensitive hearing inadvertently picking up on a commotion down the hall. Raising a hand in a gesture to tell him to wait for a second, she hopped down from the counter and made her way over to the door, pulling it open and peeking her head out just in time to see Jackson Whittemore sprinting down the hall, hand over his nose. Her brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she replied as she closed the door again, turning around and glancing at the now-concerned looking teen. The way the light hit his face at that specific angle had the bruise around his eye standing out even more, and for a moment, she almost forgot about Jackson. “Here,” she started, changing the topic as she made her way over to her backpack. Pausing just long enough to shoot Derek a quick text, the blonde fished around inside of the bag until she pulled out a little make-up carrier.

“What are you doing?” the human was quick to ask as soon as she started toward him.

Again, she could only smile at his distrust. “Helping you hide that shiner of yours.” She stepped over to his side, figuring that a direct approach might feel too trapping for him if he was already that uncomfortable, and placed a gentle hand under his chin, tiling his head up until she had the best angle for it. She used her other hand to smooth a small amount of concealer over the marking, and even though she tried as hard as she could to keep her touch light and gentle, he still winced at the contact. “Sorry!”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” His heartbeat didn’t skip -- his words apparently ringing true -- and she could only arch an eyebrow.

“Looks like you got hit pretty hard, there.” She kept her tone light, her words an observation, not an accusation.

“Lacrosse.” There was the skip.

Still, she kept her mouth shut, simply humming out a sound of understanding. She gave another little sweep of her finger as she applied just a dab more of the concealer, working for another second to smooth it all out, before leaning back and giving his face another once-over. He was staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite place. She gave his chin a small pat and stepped away, clicking the container shut but making no move to tuck it back away in her bag, instead holding it up and waiting for him to take it.

It took him a moment before he reached for the small vial, confusion etched across his face as he looked back at her.

“You don’t have to be a werewolf to hide your bruises,” she told him, lips pulling into a kind smile. “Make-up works, too.”

There was another long moment of silence that followed her words, a break which she used to re-situate herself on the counter. When he spoke again, his tone was apprehensive. “But, being a... werewolf... you, uh, heal faster, like Derek said?”

“Much faster,” she confirmed. “You can still feel it when you break a bone or something, of course, but it heals, and, at least from what I’ve heard, our pain tolerance is somewhat higher to begin with. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

“And you’re stronger?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where his questions were coming from. “Much stronger,” she confirmed again, before pursing her lips in consideration. “We’re not invincible, Isaac,” she told him carefully, “and we have our own difficulties to face -- like I know Derek told you about -- but there is a certain power that comes with the bite, a certain confidence... a certain sense of belonging. It makes so many things so much better, and it would heal any lacrosse injuries you might have, but, like I said, you don’t have to be a werewolf to hide your bruises. Now, if you’d rather avoid the bruises altogether...” She rolled a shoulder, leaving the rest to be assumed.

It seemed to take him a minute to let that sink in, for he gave a small nod before letting his head drop down a bit, attention temporarily on the floor again. She chose not to push the conversation, instead sitting in comfortable silence and letting him think. She’d taken to swinging her legs lightly in the air and reading all of the encouraging posters around the room before he’d lifted his head again. And that was the moment that the door to the room flew open, a somewhat rushed-looking Derek appearing out of nowhere.

“Sam, we need--” the alpha started, only to cut himself off and actually look between the two teenagers. His attention settled on the woman, expression showing his displeasure -- or was it suspicion? She couldn’t be sure. “Isaac,” he greeted curtly, gaze flicking to him and then right back to Samantha. “I’m going to need you out of class after all. Do you have your things?”

She was easily able to decipher the tone of his voice to mean grab your shit and lets go, but that didn’t stop her from arching an eyebrow at him. “You sure? There’s still another half hour of Chemistry and--”

“Now.”

Chuckling a bit, the blonde pushed off of the counter and hopped to her feet, wasting no time before snatching the sheet of paper and handing it off to the curly-haired teen. “It’d be more believable if you just hung out here until the bell and then turned this in tomorrow,” she advised, already making her way to her bag. “Just think about it, alright? And you know where to find us if you make up your mind.” She was already halfway to the door by that point. “It was nice actually meeting you, Isaac.”

“Yeah,” he drew out, making no move to return the comment. Instead, he simply lifted the note and concealer. “Thanks for... everything, I guess... Sam, was it?”

“Oh!” Suddenly, she was back at his side, hand extended in a very delayed greeting. “Hi, I’m Samantha Lawrence!”

Derek’s voice was quick to interrupt the moment. “Sam!”

A scowl appearing on her face, she dropped her hand before he’d even shaken it, turning around and trailing after her alpha before he really lost his patience.