I do not own Teen Wolf or Supernatural. Just Noah.

"So," Sam started, staring at the fellow hunter that sat across from him. "Tell me everything you know."

Chris relaxed into his chair, sighing.

Sam had to admit, he was surprised how nice Chris' apartment was. Although, his deceased daughter might be responsible for the flattering home décor. He would eventually ask Chris about Allison, but not now. He had to get talking first, ask a few questions.

Just as Chris was about to open his mouth, Sam's phone rang.

He licked his lips in frustration, taking a few seconds to pull it out of his pocket. It was Dean as expected. The only people who ever called him were Dean and Cas. But Cas hadn't called in awhile. Too busy doing angel stuff. He was surprised Dean called him, knowing that he was at the school with Noah right now picking classes.

He pressed ignore, shoving the device back into his jacket pocket.

"I gotta tell you, Sam, there's not much to say." He brought a hand to his face, rubbing the stubble. He leaned into Sam, resting his elbow on his knees as he touched his face. "We moved here last year and some crazy stuff went down. We killed an alpha, Kate and I."

"Kate, your sister, Kate?"

He nodded.

This just got extremely awkward. Argent knew that Kate and Dean had a past. A short one, but it was a past. Maybe that was why Dean suggested he go to talk to Argent instead of himself.

Kate was another hunter. The Argent's were a whole family of hunters, specializing in werewolves.

"There was a complication with Kate…"

"What do you mean complication?" Sam asked, urging Argent to fess up.

"The alpha slit Kate' throat with its claws."

"I'm so sorry…" That was all Sam could say. This man had lost so many people. First his sister, then his wife, and now his daughter.

Instead of saying anything, Chris just nodded. "Some other stuff happened…"

"Other stuff as in…?"

Chris' gaze fell, and he ignored Sam's question.

"How about we change the subject to more recent matters?"

Argent was avoiding something, and it was really starting to tick Sam off. He was hiding something, or protecting someone. Dean would not be happy to hear this. "This town has had quite a few deaths in the last year. And for a small town, I'd say that something is going on. How can you have not noticed?"

Chris shrugged, "I came here for the alpha, I killed him, and I haven't moved since. Allison was fond of the town, and I couldn't bring myself to move after my wife died. I haven' noticed anything odd, and maybe it's because I haven't been searching or hunting like I used to, but I'm not sure it's necessarily anything supernatural. Last year they killed a few mountain lions, people still see them roaming around."

It was definitely supernatural, but he wasn't going to argue with Chris. Sam had seen enough shit, gone through enough investigations, and killed enough supernatural creatures to know when a human and when the supernatural is causing death's in a town. Especially in a minimally populated town like Beacon Hills.

"What are you hiding, Chris?" Sam's brows knit together in a neat line. He stood up, gazing down at Chris. It must have been intimidating. A six foot four guy standing in front of you, demanding answers to questions.

"I'm not hiding anything, Sam."

"Then why are you still here?" He raised his voice a little. It echoed in the large apartment living room.

He sighed, "I guess I'm just stuck here. I've lost everyone here, and maybe I need to put down the gun for a while. Settle down. Protect this town if I need to."

Sam dropped the subject. He wouldn't budge. Either Chris was telling the truth, or he was a really good hunter. "So you're retiring?"

He shrugged, "Briefly, I suppose. I've lost everyone from hunting, Sam. I can't lose myself."

Sam nodded. He was about to announce his departure, when the thought of the police station exploding a few weeks ago came to mind. "Could you at least explain the police station last month? Any insight on that?"

He shrugged, "All I know is that shrapnel bomber, William Barrow, you know, from that case in Ohio? He was the guy convicted of blowing up a school bus full of kids by detonating a shrapnel-filled bomb."

Sam nodded, having heard of him once before in an online newspaper.

"Yeah well he was transferred from another hospital to Beacon Hills Memorial to get surgery, but he ended up escaping and getting to the power station just outside of town with a hostage. He tried to electrocute the girl but the cops came and shut everything down. He was admitted to Eichen house a few days later, the mental facility in Beacon Hills. They suspected he set a bomb up, mailing it to the Sherriff before he was admitted to Eichen House, but he never confirmed it."

"Hmm." Sam responded, not knowing what else to say.

That didn't really have anything to do with the supernatural, but he would still research Barrow.

"I did some brief researching the other day," Sam started, "And it looks like there were sacrifices here. Maybe a Darach? There were a few at the school, a few at—"

"What the hell is a Darach?"

So Chris hadn't heard ofvone before? It was best not to bring it up. "It's just a sacrificial murderer. It's like a druid emissenary who went down the wrong path… but never mind." He scratched his head, "Anyways, is there anything else you could tell me?"

He shook his head.

Sam gave the man sitting in front of him a penetrating stare, but he didn't break. Chris had nothing else to say, and that signaled Sam's departure.

"Well," Sam said, heading out the door and into the hallway. "It was good seeing you." He glanced back; making sure Chris was following him.

Chris nodded, giving him a smile that appeared to have a million secrets behind it. "You too. You boys take care."

"I'm sure I'll hear from you again. I have a feeling we're going to stay in this town for a while." Sam inched closer to the door, before finally stepping out of the apartment.

"Glad to hear it," Chris replied before shutting the door on Sam.

"Wake up kiddo! Time for your first day of school."

I groaned at the sound of Dean's voice, rolling over onto the floor, which definitely woke me up. "Remind me why I suggested going to school again was such a good idea?"

Sam chuckled as he picked at his bowl of cereal at the dining table.

"Hey, you just leave the research to Sammy and I. You do the investigating."

"'Sammy and I'" I finger quoted, picking myself off the floor, "Let's be real. An average research day for you two consists of Sam waking up early, pulling out his laptop, and typing away for a few hours. While he does that you go buy pie, come back, eat it, and then wait for Sam to discuss his research. When he does, you state your theory, you figure out what you're going to do, and then you venture out on whatever investigation you're going to endure in. And along the way you stop at some creepy ass diner."

"Actually," Dean interjected, "I- well… yeah I guess you're right."

I smirked.

"Corn pops?" Sam offered, his spoon pointed to the lime green bowl that held his cereal in it.

"No thanks." I responded before walking over to my tiny suitcase. I grabbed some white sneakers, my black jeans, and a Spider-man t-shirt. I paced to the washroom, committing to my normal morning rituals, and then added some nice make up. I let out my long curly brown hair, letting it fall to my shoulders. Damn, I needed to cut it.

When I exited the washroom, shutting off the light, Dean cat whistled. I rolled my eyes, dropping my pajamas on my bed.

"Just drive me to school."

"Yes boss." Dean picked the keys up, twirling them around his finger. He gave his brother a wink, before heading out the door. We walked to the impala and hopped in, buckling ourselves up.

It was a short drive to the school, not too far from the motel.

When we pulled up, a fluttering feeling filled the pit of my stomach. So many kids, so many cars. It was a big school. I felt myself gnawing on my bottom lip, feeling the nerves manifest themselves inside of me.

"You're not nervous are you?" Dean leaned closer, car stalled.

I just stared out the window. "I've killed hundreds of vampire, werewolves, shape shifters, and for some reason I'm nervous about school. Funny how that works, eh?"

He chuckled, "Get out."

I obliged, picking up my old, ratty backpack that was once Sam's. I stepped out of the impala, hearing Dean sarcastically yelling, "Good luck!" out the window before speeding out of the parking lot, almost hitting an old mustang.

"Asshole," I sniggered to myself.

I licked my lips and turned to the humongous school. Damn, was it ever huge. The worst part was, I literally knew no one. I took one large, deep, shaky breath, and started moving her feet, one trembled step after another. When I made it to the stairs at the front of the school I paused, taking one last look at it.

"What have I gotten myself into…"

I trudged up the stairs, bursting through the twin doors.

It was busy, and crowded. I merged into the traffic of the students before heading to the office. They wanted me to wear some sort of badge for the first week of school to prove to the teachers I as new and would need to be omitted for some of the assignments, and caught up for others. I picked the lanyard with the laminated badge on it and pulled it over my head. I gave the secretary a warm smile before exiting the busy room.

I made my way for the stairs. My first class was on the second floor. History, with Mr. Yukimura in room 1109.

It was 8:00am, a little early for school, but that was so I could figure out where I was actually going. When I found the room number, my nerves eased slightly.

I people watched for a while, observing the crowd.

What I thought was an explosion of nerves inside of me, ended up being a an eruption of stomach growls. The vending machine across the hallway was practically calling my name, cursing me for not eating breakfast when Sam offered it to me. The change Sam had given me a few days ago felt heavier in my jean pocket.

I fished it out of my pocket, and paced over to it, trying to find a break in the crowd.

I popped the change in and pressed C1, waiting for the vending machine to spit out the granola bar. I at least attempted to be healthy, going for that instead of the pack of cheetos that I truly wanted.

"Hey, I was gonna get that too."

I turned around to the voice, seeing Stiles, the boy from the other day. He shot me a content close-lipped smile.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled, looking back to the bar.

"Dammit." It was stuck on the hook of the conveyor. I shrugged, it was only a dollar anyways. I could wait till lunch to grab some food from the cafeteria. I pivoted to leave, but Stiles stopped me, pushing his hands in my face.

"Woah! Where you going?"

"It's stuck.."

"I got this, don't worry." He smiled, licking his small lips. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbow, and took a large leap towards the vending machine. He looked like he was ready to fight it. I found myself giggling a little, but watched his moves.

He pushed the machine, and it rocked back, hitting the wall, but fell back in position again. Stiles' facial expression transitioned to a look of pure annoyance. He pushed it again.

And again, and again. Before finally, it came rocking towards him, almost crushing him. Stiles' cowered away from it, bracing himself for impact. This was my cue, to not let the only semi-friend I had made to die. I dived in front of him and tensed my arms, catching the machine in my hands. I pushed it back in place and turned back to Stiles, who was still cowered on the floor.

If it weren't for my hunting skills, I probably wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it up, or had a quick enough reflex to jump in front of him.

When the impact didn't reach Stiles, he stood up, blinking profusely in confusion.

"Damn girl, you're strong." His eyes widened, gazing at me.

I shrugged my shoulders back.

"Hey it fell!" He ran to the machine, thrusting his arm into it and picking the bar up. "There you go" He panted, out of breath from the match with the vending machine.

I just laughed, "Thanks, Stiles," and grabbed it from his hand.

"So," He wiped the non-existent sweat off his forehead, his tongue lolling out, "Today's you—"

"Stiles!" Someone hollered.

Stiles and I both whipped their head around to the hollerer.

There, pushing through the crowd was an average-height tan boy, with a mop of brown hair placed neatly on his head. His brown eyes pierced Stiles'. His shoes squeaked with every step, his hands sweatier with every push of a person. "Hey! Stiles," His friend ran to his side before eyeing me.

"Hey buddy," Stiles patted his friend on the back, proud to introduce the two to each other. "This is Noah, the chick I was telling you about at the police station, with the FBI guy."

"Mr. Grumpy Pants." I smiled, repeating Stiles' words from the other night.

"Yes! Mr. Grumpy Pants, anyways, this is my best bud Scott McCall!" He patted his friends back even harder.

"Hi," Scott smiled, giving a small wave.

I smiled back, knowing that Scott's mind was clearly somewhere else right now.

"Has Lydia called you? She hasn't called me," Scott glanced at his phone, then back to his friend, "Any news?"

Stiles didn't reply, he just squeezed his lips into a tight line, staring at his friend.

"Well!" Stiles burst out, startling me a little, "We gotta go. I'll catch you later,"

Before I even had a chance to say goodbye, Stiles put an arm around his friend and merged into the traffic of the hallway. It appeared that they were already chatting away on something important.

I made a face, knowing that those boys were definitely acting weird. Probably some stupid high school Drama, maybe Scott had dated this Lydia girl or something, who knows.

When I heard the bell ring, I almost jumped at its deafening noise. I sighed ready to step into class, but was interrupted by the vibrating of my phone in my pants pocket.

Sam.

"Hello?"

"Hey, just updating. So you know how Chris talked to me about that William Barrow guy?"

"Yeah, the shrapnel bomber," I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, as if that would help me hear better, and scanned the dissipating hallway. Everyone was heading to class, and although no one could hear in, I just had to double check. Although, if there were werewolves roaming Beacon Hills, then it was possible someone was eavesdropping on the current conversation.

"So apparently he was admitted to BHMH because no other hospital would take him. He had a tumor in him and when they went to remove it, houseflies exploded out of it."

"Flies?" I gagged a little, "Ugh that's nasty."

"Yeah. He escaped from surgery by attacking the surgeon and miraculously waking up from anesthesia . He ran to the school, kidnapped a girl named Kira Yukimura,"

"Yukimura?" I questioned.

"Yeah, why? Familiar with the name?"

I pursed her lips, "Well, it's just, my first period teacher is Mr. Yukimura."

"Relation maybe?"

"Maybe," I agreed.

"Anyways, he kidnapped her, took her to the power station, and tried to electrocute her. Her friends called the police and they sent him to the Eichen House. That's not the weird part though."

"Then what is?" This was already too weird. And I had seen my fair share of weird shit.

"His justification for killing and attempting to kill was, and I quote, 'Their eyes were glowing, like in the movie Village of the Damned.'"

I took a few seconds to comprehend what he was exactly saying. I glanced back at the hallway, deserted now. Except for Stiles and Scott running back into a classroom, the same class I had. They glanced at me for an awkwardly long time, before stepping into class."So what do you think, werewolf? Vampire?" I asked a little quieter.

"We don't know. First we need to know the color of the eyes. Who these kids were, the ones that died and the girl in the power station, but first—"

"Interview?" I finished for him.

"Interview," He confirmed

"Sweet, I'm totally coming." I grinned.

"Excuse me? This guy is a mass murderer, I don't think so."

"I can handle myself. Besides, he's locked up in a cell in a mental facility."

"No."

"I'll ask Dean."

"He says no too."

"You're lying," I objected.

"No I'm not."

"Pick me up at three; we'll head there straight after." I heard a long groan before he hung up.

I chuckled, but quickly shoved my phone in my pocket. I was around ten minutes late for class now. The whole purpose of coming early was to show up early, not late.

I basically sprinted into class, clutching my history book closer to my chest, as if it were some kind of protection against the penetrating stares of my new classmates.

"Noah Kennedy I'm assuming?" The teacher asked, his hand paused with the chalk in it.

I held up the badge, "Yes," I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, feeling nervous again, "I'm sorry I'm late. I couldn't, um, find the class."

I looked around the class, spotting Stiles and Scott who knew that was a total lie, but I didn't care. I didn't know them well enough to have them question me about it.

"That's alright, but I want you to know I don't appreciate tardiness in my class."

I nodded towards the man, "Understood."

"Class, this is our new student Noah Kennedy. She just transferred from…" The teacher eyed Noah, expecting her to continue.

A wave of panic flushed over her. Crap. What school did Dean say she was in? I was supposed to be from San Francisco but I had no idea what schools where there. San Francisco High? No. I just stuttered out words, "I… uh… its— umm.."

"Just take a seat between Mr. McCall and Mr. Stilinski." He interjected

I nodded, obeying his orders.

I stumbled over to my desk, not being able to completely hold myself up. The nerves were too much. I ended up tripping over a smaller looking boy's foot and went tumbling to the ground. I pushed my hands out, ready to stop myself, but I never reached the ground. Instead a pair of sturdy, muscular hands encompassed me.

I gasped.

I tried to compose myself, but I felt too flustered. The blood rushed to my cheeks, the sweat started to bead on my forehead, my hair flew everywhere.

When the hands released me, I looked up seeing Stiles' friend. Scott.

"Are you okay?" He narrowed his eyes.

"T-Thanks." I nodded, taking my seat, feeling too embarrassed.

Everyone's eyes were now on me. I could feel it. I slunk down in my seat. This was going to be a long day. I tried to drape my hair over my face as I sunk into my seat, not wanting anymore attention on me, but it was already too late.

The teacher cleared his throat, and finally, I felt like not everyone was staring at me. "As I was saying, some of history's greatest leaders have had to endure some pretty great failures." He wrote the topic on the chalkboard, before walking around to his desk and leaning on it. "One you'll recognize from last night's reading. He failed in business, had a nervous breakdown, was defeated for both houses of congress, and lost as Vice President, before he was finally elected as one of the greatest President's this country has ever seen. Who was he?" He smiled.

I observed the classroom, seeing a few hands fly up, including Stiles'. He gave Scott a small wink, and raised his arm up higher, eager.

"Malia." Mr. Yukimura picked a pretty, quite girl, who was too focused on highlighting her notebook that she almost didn't notice her name being called. She looked sweet, with her average length brown hair, and her heart-shaped face. God, I hated when teachers did that. Actually, I wouldn't know. I was always home schooled, except in elementary school. Home schooled, why didn't I say that earlier? It was the truth. I just saw all this typical high school stuff in movies.

In unison, Scott and Stiles turned around to Malia, who sat behind me.

She had a pink highlighter in her mouth, and the expression on her face was somewhat petrified.

Mr. Yukimura opened his mouth to call her name again, but Scott's phone ringing loudly interrupted him.

Scott turned to it, observing who the caller was.

"Scott. Phone's off."

Scott nodded, but kept eyeing the phone.

That was probably the call he was expecting.

I looked beside me to Stiles, who was mouthing words to Malia, explaining the answer to her. Malia was completely dumbfounded though.

"Malia," The teacher called her again. "Gettysburg address… one of our famous presidents…?"

Instead of responding she just nodded, shoving another highlighter in her mouth so she had more room to lay out her notes.

A girl sitting beside Malia, a small Asian, petit girl, waved her hand, practically jumping out of her seat. She was the only one with her hand still up, but she still urged for her to be seen.

Another phone beeped, and Mr. Yukimura filled with annoyance. "Phone's off. Everyone."

"Malia…"

Fed up of the teacher calling her, I wrote the answer down on a piece of paper and slipped it underneath her notes, without Mr. Yukimura noticing.

Her eyes widened, but she tried to smile with the highlighter filled mouth.

"Does anyone else know?" He sighed. The whole class lifted their hands up, But Malia and I. I waited for her to take her opportunity. She was probably just nervous that he asked her a question. Yeah, it was easy, but she probably just filled up with anxiety and couldn't say the answer.

"Wait!" She objected, "I know it."

"You do?"

"Lincoln."

"Yes. Now Lincoln—"

Once again, another phone beeped.

"I said: Phone's off." Mr. Yukimura barked in a much louder, deeper voice.

"Dad…" I whipped my head around, to see the asian girl slowly lowering her arm. "That was yours…"

So this was Kira? The girl who was trapped a few months ago with a murderer? She looked so fragile. I needed to befriend her.

"Oh…" the teacher replied "Uhh.." He smiled quickly, laughing a little, and quickly glanced at his phone. He frowned at it, a look of confusion filling his face. "'Scott: Call Lydia…" He announced a little too loudly.

I was curious if he meant the Scott sitting beside me, and by the look I saw him give Stiles, it made it clear. Why would a student text a teacher?

Stiles and Scott tried to have a mouthing conversation with her right in the middle of it. She couldn't help but feel awkward stuck right in the middle.

She glanced back to the Malia girl, who stopped highlighting to give her a quick smile. "Thank you," She mumbled.

"No problem," I smiled, looking back to the teacher.

He eyed Scott curiously, who was looking at Stiles.

Was this what high school was always like? This was a gong show.

Mr. Yukimura shook his head frustratingly and plopped his phone down on his desk. "Okay," He started again, walking over to the board. "I'd appreciate it if we could get the Monday Blues over with and we could start taking some notes." He grabbed a pen and started writing on the white board.

The class sighed in unison, and a shuffling noise evolved in the room as everyone grabbed their writing utensils.

I leaned over to my bad which hung on the chair. It was like an endless pit of stuff. After searching for a few seconds, I placed the bag on my lap, only to have it slowly fall to the floor. My pencils rolled down the aisle along with a compact mirror, my wallet, and a picture, of Allison and I with Chris and my father when we were younger.

I cursed under my breath. Luckily, most of the attention as on Mr. Yukimura now, but a few students watched as I ran to pick up my pencils and the rest of my belongings. None of my lethal weapons fell out, which was a plus. I shoved it rapidly into my bag. I sat back in my seat, leaning down to pick up the old photo I had kept in my purse. When my hand met skin, I looked up. Scott grabbed the photo before I could, and he picked it up, fiddling with it in his fingers.

His eyebrows drew together as he stared at the photo, mesmerized by some aspect of it.

"You knew her," He mumbled after a few seconds, still looking at the photo.

Feeling the pair of eyes on us, I glanced to Stiles before turning back to Scott. "Uh," I tucked my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine. "Yeah, I… We were close when we were younger."

He flipped the photo over, checking to see if there was anything on the back, and when there wasn't he handed it back to me, arm extending across the aisle.

"Thanks," I nodded, taking it back and flinching as our fingers touched.

I placed it back in my bag and flickered my eyes back to Scott, who was watching me intently. I felt like I should say something, or he should. But nothing came out. There was clearly hurt in his eyes, and in Stiles'.

"Were you too close?" I gulped.

"Very close," Stiles finished for him, leaning over onto my desk.

This boy didn't understand personal bubbles, not that I cared.

From Stiles' answer, I gathered what I needed. They were lovers, clearly.

Instead of saying anything to Stiles' reply, Scott just shot a warm smile, and whispered, "Nice picture," before turning back to Mr. Yukimura.

"Agh!' I groaned, as I felt the strap of my bag break. Luckily, nothing fell out this time.

School sucked ass.

I managed to embarrass myself multiple times today, including right now as I unknowingly shoulder checked a student as I tried to fix my bag.

"Crap! Ah!" I exclaimed, "I'm sorry! Ugh, that was an accident, I'm so sorry." I apologized repeatedly.

"It's alright," The stranger replied, regaining himself. His blue eyes rose to mine and I found myself stuttering again. I quickly glanced at two of his friends, one a girl with black hair and big eyes, another a boy with blonde hair and an impeccable jaw line, who waited for him but then walked away when they saw he had no intentions of moving.

"I- umm.. Yeah…"

"It's fine," he grinned, "No biggie." There was a nike sports bag slung over his muscular shoulder. The boy was small, freshman maybe, and his light brown hair was gelled wildly, reminding me of Stiles.

He had a badge hanging from his neck, the same as mine.

I snatched it up with two fingers. "You're new too?"

I glanced up at him, catching him nodding. "My first day was last week. Starting tomorrow I don't have to wear this."

"Nice," I nodded, smirking.

"Your first day?" He questioned, tightening his strap on his shoulder.

"Yup," I popped the 'p'. "First day on high school. Ever." I exaggerated.

His eyes widened, "I thought you were a senior."

"Junior, actually. I've just been homeschooled most my life."

"Cool! Do you still have to wake up early for that?" He smirked.

I found myself gaining confidence, being more comfortable as I talked to the boy. "Unfortunately, yes," I lied.

"Lame," He stuck out his tongue.

"Hey Liam," A dark skinned boy hollered from the stairs, looking to be around the same age as Liam. "You coming?"

"Yeah just a sec!" He yelled over the hallway chatter.

"For a new kid, you seem to have quite a few friends." I observed.

"I transferred, actually/ From Devenford Prep. My best friend goes here, so I knew a lot of his friends." He explained.

"Makes sense," I replied, feeling the awkwardness start to make an appearance.

"Well it was nice meeting you…" He waited for me to say my name.

"Noah. Noah Kennedy."

He grinned, "I'm Liam."

"I gathered," I giggled as I looked over to his friend who waited impatiently.

"Oh, right." He pointed with his thumb to his friend, and then scratched his head, "Well, I'll see you around."

I nodded, giving him a simple, close-lipped smile.

He jogged off towards his friends, and I made my way out of the school, thankful that the day was over.

I heard the impala before I saw it. It was idling in the parking lot, with two Winchesters in it.

I quickened my pace, maneuvering myself between students and vehicles as I walked over to them.

Dean jumped as I hopped into the car, while Sam smiled as he saw me coming.

"Hey," I said, slightly exasperated.

"How was the first day?" Sam asked as Dean reversed out of his spot.

"Terrible." I groaned. "I embarrassed myself multiple times, hardly talked to anyone, and was late to almost all my classes because I couldn't find them or because you guys called me." I sighed, reclining in the back seat. "But on the bright side, I found out that the girl in the power station with Barrow is in my class. I think she's friends with the guys I sit next to in history, and she's most definitely the daughter of my History teacher."

"Hmm." Dean grumbled. "Think that maybe Barrow is just a murderer?"

Sam turned to him, "He probably only is just a murderer, but either way we need to talk to him. He saw something, and I wanna know what."

"Only with Winchesters can you say. 'He's probably only a murderer.'" I teased.

I saw Dean smirk in the rearview.

"You guys find out anything?" I questioned.

"Lots." Sam answered. "Allison was one of the students in the school last year who got attacked."

I bit my lip, "Really? Who else was there?"

"A few kids. Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall, and Stiles Stilinski."

I froze.

Dean scoffed, "What the hell is a Stiles?"

A/N: Five months later, I finally got an inspiration for this story... Anyways, enjoy the second chapter! Do you think I should add any love interests for Noah? If so, who? Tell me your thoughts :)