It was a calm day, the sun shining brightly overhead as Trevor stood on the lacrosse field wearing the gear the coach had loaned him, the pads still feeling a little stiff around his shoulders, though he was used to carrying far heavier burdens than that.
"Listen up, Belmont. This is your stick. Hold onto it like your life depends on it," the coach said, placing the stick in Trevor's hands and fixing him with a serious look before continuing, "Look, kid, it's simple. You hold the stick, catch the ball with it, and throw. Got it?"
"Yes, Coach."
"Good. Piiiiiii!" The whistle shrieked, and the coach shouted to the players scattered across the field, "Get over here!" Once they gathered, he pointed at Trevor and announced, "You probably already know him. Belmont's trying out for the team. We're running a scrimmage. If he plays well, he's in." The players nodded and jogged back to their positions, and Trevor said quietly, "But Coach, I don't know how to play," which only made the man let out a short laugh before replying, "Like my grandma used to say, there's no better way to learn than by doing. Now quit whining and get out there," giving him two firm pats on the back before heading toward the benches where Stiles was sitting.
The moment Trevor stepped onto the field, he heard an excited shout from the bleachers: "Woohoo! Go, Trevor!" Allison and Lydia were waving enthusiastically, and Trevor smiled and waved back, though that was more than enough to irritate Scott — and the problem was that Scott was on the opposing team. Trevor adjusted his helmet and muttered just loud enough for Scott to hear, "Let's see what you're made of."
The whistle blew again, and the game began, with Trevor pushing through the defense at surprising speed, his body moving naturally and his field awareness flawless, so that when a teammate raised his stick to pass, Trevor was already in position. Scott came charging in like a runaway truck, trying to intercept, but his mistake was emotional — too consumed by jealousy and anger, his movements became predictable — and at the last second, Trevor spun aside, letting Scott barrel past him and crash hard onto the ground while he caught the ball midair and launched it. Goal. The goalie didn't even react.
"That's it!" Allison and Lydia shouted in unison as Scott clenched his fists, and the angrier he got, the more obvious he became, because over the next few minutes Trevor completely dominated the field, intercepting passes, dodging with surgical precision, and scoring point after point until no one could stop him — and heaven help anyone who tried. From the sidelines, the coach watched in disbelief, muttering, "What are they feeding these kids these days? Every one of 'em's stronger than the last… Well, whatever it is, there's no way Beacon Hills loses this year," while on the bench, Stiles was anything but calm, his leg bouncing nonstop as he chewed on the tip of his glove and muttered, "That's if they both survive…"
Jackson, despite being on the same team as Trevor, started getting irritated and subtly told the others to stop passing Trevor the ball, but it didn't matter — Trevor intercepted on his own — until Scott couldn't take it anymore and dropped to his knees on the field, his body tensing as he fought to suppress the transformation, and Stiles shot to his feet immediately, saying, "Coach, I don't think Scott's feeling so good. I'm gonna take him inside." The coach barely looked away from Trevor and replied, "Go ahead."
Trevor noticed Scott's condition and knew that if he lost control out there, Stiles would be in danger, so it was time to act, and he jogged over to the coach to say, "Coach, I'm not feeling too great either. I'm gonna hit the locker room." The coach waved him off. "Go on, kid. Don't push yourself too hard. If you get injured, I'll kill you." Trevor grabbed his backpack, inside which was the Vampire Killer — ever since the incident in the woods, he had learned it was better to keep the whip close — though he had no intention of using it against Scott.
As he approached the locker room, he heard a metallic crash and Stiles's nervous voice: "Easy, Scott! Easy! Cool off under the shower!" Trevor opened the door and found Scott pressed against a locker that had been dented into the shape of a fist, breathing heavily, golden-yellow eyes glowing and veins bulging along his neck, while Stiles stood far too close. Trevor stepped inside silently, Scott too consumed by his own fury to notice, and walked until they were face-to-face.
"A wolf who can't control his anger doesn't live very long, Scott."
It was like pouring gasoline on a fire, and Scott turned slowly, his golden eyes flaring with wild intensity before he lunged. Trevor assessed quickly — not the third stage yet — and allowed himself a faint smile as Scott attacked with brute force and he sidestepped at the last instant, using Scott's momentum against him, and with a movement he had learned from Mr. Hans, he twisted Scott's arm and slammed him to the floor, a sharp impact echoing through the locker room.
"Control yourself, Scott. Don't lose yourself to the anger. Master it."
Scott's breathing was ragged and he trembled as he pushed himself up and charged again, but this time Trevor didn't throw him down — he simply evaded, redirecting the force and maintaining distance, saying, "Listen to her heartbeat, Scott. Focus on that." Scott hesitated for half a second, but it wasn't enough, and Trevor strategically backed toward the showers, so when Scott lunged again, Trevor twisted the valve and a blast of ice-cold water hit Scott full in the face. Scott froze, his breathing slowing, his eyes returning to normal.
"What… happened?" Scott managed, and Trevor answered, "You tried to kill me. You need to control your anger if you want to keep playing." Scott dragged a wet hand down his face and muttered, "Damn… you know." Trevor replied evenly, "You're not exactly subtle when you're trying to attack me."
Stiles, still pale, finally found his voice: "Holy crap."
"Sit down, both of you. We need to talk," Trevor said, and they exchanged a look before obeying, Trevor leaning against a locker with his arms crossed as silence lingered until he spoke again. "First, yes. I know you're a werewolf. You don't hide it very well." Scott swallowed hard and asked, "How?" and Trevor explained, "I did my research. A hostile alpha shows up in a town with hunters. First thing he does is build a pack. Then suddenly a benchwarmer starts playing better than everyone else, running faster than a car while riding a bike, and your eyes lit up in the middle of the field." Scott could only mutter, "Crap…" before taking a deep breath and asking, "So Allison knows too?"
"No. She doesn't know about the supernatural. And I won't be the one to tell her."
Scott visibly relaxed, and Stiles then asked, "Why would you do that?" to which Trevor replied, "Scott's a good kid. He just needs to learn control. And Allison is like a sister to me. Besides… I don't believe every supernatural creature is inherently evil."
The tension eased slightly, until Stiles blurted out, "So Derek was right. You're a hunter." Trevor narrowed his eyes and asked, "Derek? As in Derek Hale?" and the silence confirmed it, so he continued, "Yeah. I come from a very old hunter family. We created the hunting code. We act according to it. Unlike some others." Stiles perked up immediately and said, "I knew it! So that story online about your family inspiring the Dracula legend is true?" and Trevor laughed before replying, "Most of it is." Scott blinked, completely lost, and asked, "What are you two talking about?" making Stiles exclaim, "Seriously, man? You've never heard of Dracula?" before Scott shook his head. "Dracula. Bram Stoker. One of the biggest icons in pop culture? You need to watch more movies."
Trevor cleared his throat, refocusing, and said, "This town is under my protection now. If you kill anyone, you answer to me. Understood?" Scott nodded, and Trevor continued, "Good. Now… the alpha who bit you. Do you know who it is?" Scott shook his head. "I figured. Without an alpha to guide you, losing control is normal. And Derek… is he part of the alpha's pack?" Scott shook his head again, and Trevor sighed. "Then this alpha is alone. And he's killing. I need your help to find him."
Scott agreed without hesitation, and Trevor said, "Good. This isn't how I planned it, but I'm glad we talked. I'll head back to the field. I'll contact you tomorrow." They both nodded, still processing everything, and Trevor left the locker room and made his way toward the bleachers where Allison spoke first, saying, "I'm glad you're okay. What happened to Scott?" and Trevor answered, "He just needed a little rest," making her sigh in relief as Lydia added with a sideways smile, "I don't know how you do it, but you better keep playing like that in the next games." Trevor gave a confident half-smile and replied, "With this kind of reinforcement on the team? There's no way we're losing."