SCOTT CAME OUT OF THE bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist when he heard—"Is this a party or a date?" He jumped, startled, turning around to see his Mom with the car keys held out.

"Maybe both," he said, reaching for the keys, but she pulled back.

"And her name is?"

"Allison."

She handed him the keys. "We don't need to have a talk do we?"

"Mom, I'm not having the safe sex talk with you."

"I meant about keeping the tank full," she responded, freaking out. "Give me those back." She reached for the keys in alarm as something began to happen to their voices. The quality started to change, becoming metallic...

Outside the house, Scott and his Mom could be heard talking.

"Come on, Mom, nothing's going to happen."

Then further down the street, their voices took on the same effect as those that Scott could hear when he was listening in on conversations at school.

"You bet your ass nothing's going to happen. I am not going to be on some reality show with a sixteen year-old pregnant girl."

"I got it, Mom."

No less than a hundred yards away but still within sight of the house, a dark figure stood next to the open door of a black Dodge Challenger, listening...

Derek Hale.

Scott pulled up to the curb outside Allison's house. He kept taking deep breaths. He pulled his inhaler out, shook it up, looked at it and then tossed it in the back.

Finally, the front door of the house opened and Allison stepped out. Looking absolutely stunning under the glow of the streetlights, she approached the car while pushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

Suddenly realizing he was still in the car with his mouth hanging open, Scott scrambled to get out and open the door for her...

Moments later, Scott was driving as he and Allison sat in silence. Absolute and agonizing silence.

"Is it okay if I turn on the radio?"

"Uh, yes. But you can't." He continued off her confused look: "Sorry, it's broken. We've been meaning to get it fixed."

"No worries. You mind if I put on some music anyway?"

Now it was Scott's turn to give a confused look. But Allison had her phone out, turning the volume up and putting it on speaker.

"Nice taste in music," he noticed.

"What? You think all girls listen to is Lady Gaga?"

He murmured under his breath, "I listen to Lady Gaga."

She did a double take—he was serious. And she laughed. "So do I." She put her hand over his on the middle console, their fingers intertwining. Scott tried to hide his smile to play it cool. But he couldn't. For just a moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

Car doors opened on all sides of the suburban street as teenagers poured out from Range Rovers and BMW's, music rattling the windows of Lydia Martin's house. When Scott and Allison climbed the front steps, the door swung open to reveal Lydia herself. "Well, if it isn't the new star player with my new best friend. I was hoping you'd come."

Scott stared at her, dumbfounded. Then, trying to be as subtle as possible, he glanced behind him. No one there. Lydia was, in fact, talking to him.

"Bar's by the pool," she said, opening the door wide for both of them. Pleasantly stunned, he followed Allison inside the house...

Teenagers jammed outside of the house by the pool. Some were already drunk, some high. Scott and Allison walked through the crowd. But Scott paused when he heard a dog barking—a huge Rottweiler in the yard next door just beyond a chain link fence. And it was barking at Derek.

He stood behind the fire pit, staring straight at Scott. But then he shot a look at the Rottweiler, and the dog stopped barking instantly.

Eyes locked on the animal, Derek gave an almost imperceptible nod; and with its tail between its legs, the Rottweiler submissively lowered to a sitting position. Satisfied, Derek turned back to a surprised Scott.

"You okay?" Allison asked him.

"What? Oh... Yeah. Fine."

When he looked back, Derek was gone. Movement caught his eye and he glanced up to the roof of the of the pool house—where a shadowy figure seemed to disappear just past the chimney.

Scott stepped back, trying to see if he actually did just witness Derek leaping twenty feet off the ground. But there was nothing there—and Allison was holding her hand out to him. Letting his fear go, he took her hand with a smile.

In the crowd, they started dancing. As they came closer and closer, as she started to smile back at him, the usually timid Scott began to let go. His hands reached around her waist with the other teens pushing them closer. Bodies pressed against each other, her cheek brushed lightly against his.

Then through the crowd, Scott noticed Lydia dancing with Jackson, grinding close to him, her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck. She pressed her lips to his, locking him in a passionate kiss. As he eagerly kissed her back, sliding his hands down past her waist, Lydia opened her eyes.

And looked right at Scott—staring at him as Jackson went at her neck. Unused to the attention of one beautiful girl, much less two, he found himself dumbstruck until the bodies of the dancing partygoers pushed together to leave him alone with Allison again.

As he peered into her eyes, for a second it almost looked as though they were about to kiss. Then the music began driving faster, almost like the quickening of a heartbeat. His heartbeat.

The sounds around him intensified. His fingers clenched back, veins at the surface of his hands as he pressed against the fabric of Allison's shirt, his upper lip pulling up momentarily to reveal a sharpened incisor.

Lights glaring in his eyes, his breathing tightened, sweat at his temples. He stepped back, pulling away from her. "Sorry...I...I'll be right back."

"Are you okay?"

But he hurried past her and into the house.

Teeth clenched, a sudden wave of pain slammed Scott back against the wall, tremors shuddering through his body. Waiting in line for the bathroom, Harley noticed him: "Scott? You all right?"

But he didn't answer, pushing through the crowd, trying to find an exit out of the house. Finally, shoving past people, he charged out the front door.

When Scott turned the corner, he glanced up to the sky where the full moon shone brilliantly in the night. Gasps now starting to sound like animalistic growls, he reached his mother's car. Just getting the keys from his pocket seemed an almost colossal effort.

A second later, the car tore away from the curb as Allison came out of Lydia's house, looking around—no idea where Scott was.

"Allison."

She turned to see Derek coming toward her.

"I'm a friend of Scott's. My name's Derek." He stepped under the street light, his deep black eyes strangely hypnotic...

Scott stumbled into his darkened room, slamming the door shut and flipping the lock. Sweat at his brow, he charged into the bathroom and flipped the cold water knob on the shower, letting it pour over him. And then he noticed something—his fingernails, seeming to tear free, bone-like claws pushing them out from the tips.

Terrified, he stumbled out and to the mirror where he wiped away the steam to reveal rapidly growing fangs and two glowing, yellow eyes staring back at him.

Someone pounded on the door to his room. "Go away!" he gritted through clenched teeth.

"Scott, it's me."

Hearing the panic in his friend's voice, he pulled himself up, unlocking the door but only allowing it to open an inch.

"Let me in, Scott I can help—"

"No." Eyes burning yellow, he stayed hidden behind the door, face shrouded in darkness as Stiles tried to peer through. "Listen, you have to find Allison."

"She's fine. I saw her get a ride. She's totally fine."

"Stiles, I think I know who it is."

"Just let me in and we can talk."

"It's Derek. Derek Hale's the werewolf. He's the one who bit me. He's the one who killed the girl in the woods."

Stiles answered with shocked silence. Until he spoke quietly: "Scott...Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party."

The weight of realization falling on him, Scott slammed the door shut, locking it.

"Scott! Scott, wait—"

Through the open bedroom window, Scott launched himself out from the second story. The full moon looming in the sky behind him, his hands slammed down on the wet pavement. His crouched figure slowly drew up to reveal he was no longer struggling against the transformation...

He'd given into it.

Not a hulking beast but a leaner, more human monster. Both powerfully muscular and strangely seductive—with gleaming yellow eyes, incisors reformed into fangs, ears tapered to point over thickened, wilder hair and fingernails grown to razor sharp claws.

The sixteen year-old boy was gone. Scott was now a werewolf, charging down the driveway and then suddenly up, leaping to the branch of one tree, hurtling to the next and then finally into the dark of the woods—in search of Allison and the danger she faced.

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