First game

At lacrosse practice, the team lined up to practice throws. The field was brightly lit by the morning sun, and the echoes of fans in the stands could be heard watching the players' every move. Scott McCall looked focused but tense, his muscles taut as strings. When it was his turn, he stepped forward and ran towards the goal. His steps, however, were slow, too slow even for a normal human, let alone one who carried the power of a werewolf. Jackson, who was in a defensive stance, didn't miss the opportunity, knocking Scott to the ground with ease.

The coach who had watched the collision laughed, pleased with Jackson's rough but effective manoeuvre. Smiling broadly, he walked over to Scott, who rose to his feet, clearly knocked out.

- McCall, even my grandmother can run faster than you, and she's dead! - the coach said with a chuckle, his voice cutting across the field, causing the other players to chuckle furtively. - Tell me, can you move faster than my grandmother's breathless corpse?

As the coach snickered, Alastor noticed Scott's pulse begin to quicken. His anger was increasing with each passing second, emotions overwhelming the young werewolf. Alastor was alert. He knew that if Scott didn't learn to control himself, the consequences could be disastrous.

- Yes, Coach,' Scott said quietly, barely containing his anger.

- I can't hear you! - Coach bellowed, the smirk still on his face.

- Yes, Coach! - Scott answered louder, trying not to lose his temper.

- Then get to the starting position!

Scott clenched his fists and headed back to the throwing line. Alastor, despite appearing calm, could sense every nuance in Scott's demeanour - the scent of his anger was clear and strong. A normal werewolf might not have noticed it, but Alastor, with his incredible sensitivity, knew Scott was teetering on the edge.

When McCall accelerated again, his body was full of determination, but this time anger gave him strength. He lunged at Jackson with such fury that he knocked him to the ground as if he were an ordinary training dummy. Jackson screamed in pain - his shoulder was probably broken - but Scott paid no attention. His mind was gripped by animal rage.

Stiles, standing nearby, turned pale as he saw his friend fall to all fours, unable to control himself. Alastor, standing off to the side, caught a glimpse of a figure hiding behind the trees at the far end of the field. It was Hale, watching with a stone face.

Scott and Stiles ran towards the changing room and Alastor, wasting no time, followed them. His steps were quick and confident, though outwardly he remained calm. In the locker room the situation escalated as Scott, seized with animal rage, suddenly lashed out at Styles. But before he could hurt him, Alastor intervened.

With lightning speed, Alastor grabbed Scott by the neck and pinned him against the lockers, lifting him into the air. It was a sight that both shocked and terrified Stiles. Alastor's eyes flashed scarlet, his breathing became heavier, and he let out a low but ominous growl that made Scott's blood freeze in his veins.

Scott instantly began to regain consciousness, his body returning to normal, his fangs disappeared and his animal features began to fade. Alastor slowly withdrew his hand, watching his opponent transform back into a normal guy.

- What the hell happened? - Scott stared dumbfounded at Alastor, still trying to realise what had just happened.

- 'I saved your idiots life, that's what happened,' Alastor replied coldly, his voice hard. - You almost killed Stiles.

- Crazy... so you're a werewolf too? - Stiles muttered, still unable to believe that Alastor wasn't what he seemed. - That's why you play lacrosse even better than Scott.....

- No, I'm better than Scott because I'm better. It has nothing to do with my strength,' Alastor replied with a wide grin, not really paying attention to Stiles' comments.

- But your eyes were glowing red, not like Scott's,' Stiles continued, starting to wonder about questions Alastor didn't want to discuss.

- Because Scott's a beta and I'm an alpha,' Alastor explained briefly, not wanting to go into details. - And before you start asking a million questions, it doesn't matter right now. What matters is that your friend nearly killed someone on the field, and that's unacceptable.

Stiles nodded, considering what he'd heard.

- Wait... Alpha - does that mean you're the pack leader? You turned Scott? - Stiles asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

- No, it wasn't me. But there is another alpha in Beacon Hills,' Alastor answered, not revealing all the cards. - But that's not important right now.

- So Derek Hale is the alpha? - suggested Scott, who was still trying to work out what was going on.

- You mean the guy who was watching you at Lydia's party? - Alastor clarified, remembering the first time he'd seen Hale.

- Yeah, he helped me in the woods,' Scott started to say, but Alastor quickly interrupted him:

- 'Derek's not an alpha. He's a beta, just like you.

That answer confused Scott and he fell silent, digesting the information.

- So what do we do? - Stiles asked, glancing at Scott. - We can't let him take the field in the next match until he learns to control himself.

- That's not my problem,' Alastor said with a smile, turning to leave. - I'm not going to waste my time training someone who thinks their nature is a curse. You are not part of my pack, Scott, and I am not responsible for you. But I'll give you a hint: if you want to control your transformation, learn to control your heart rate. Stiles, you're a smart guy, you'll figure something out.

With those words, Alastor walked out, leaving Stiles and Scott to digest what they had heard.

Later that evening, Alastor, sitting on the bench in the locker room, was quietly preparing for the upcoming game. The flickering dim light of the lamps reflected on the metal lockers, and the tension in the air could be felt everywhere. He could already hear the players' active discussion beginning behind the locker room walls, and his hypersensitive hearing picked up the conversation between Stiles and Scott. Stiles' voice sounded strained but sincere as he tried to convince his friend to skip this game. His arguments seemed reasonable, 'It's just one game, Scott. You don't have to participate, Allison isn't going anywhere. Scott wasn't convinced by Stiles' argument. 'Okay, just stop worrying about Alison, or her father trying to kill you, or Derek trying to kill you, or the girl he killed, or Alastor who might kill you, or the fact that you might kill someone if the hunters don't kill you first.' Every name Stiles uttered seemed to increase Scott's anxiety. Alastor could feel the man begin to worry even more.

Soon all the players began to enter the pitch and Stiles approached Alastor with a worried expression on his face. 'Look, you've helped Scott handle himself before, haven't you? Maybe you could... well, do it again?' - His voice sounded pleading.

Alastor took a deep breath, his patience running out. 'I won't let him kill anyone, especially in front of the Argent,' he said tiredly, knowing that the upcoming game would be a test not only for Scott, but for the entire team.

As the game began, the atmosphere on the field was quickly heating up. Jackson, always ready for intrigue, had arranged with the rest of the team not to pass the balls to either Alastor or Scott. This immediately angered Scott, but Alastor was amused. He chuckled quietly: 'Well, if that's the case, then no-one but Scott and me will score any goals today.'

The game was in full swing and Alastor immediately took the lead. He scored one goal after another with such ease that it seemed as if he was just playing with the team. But, not to sound too smug, he deliberately passed passes to Scott, allowing him to score in front of Alison and her father. Malia sat next to Lydia and Allison, her eyes fixed only on him.

With each accurate shot and goal, Malia held up a banner with his name on it, which made Alastor smile and feel a slight sense of satisfaction.

By the end of the game, the stadium was literally bursting with enthusiastic shouts. Alastor and Scott's names were being heard from everywhere, but at this point something went wrong. Scott began to lose control. His face contorted and he suddenly rushed off the pitch, heading for the changing room. Stiles rushed over to Alastor in a panic, trying to get his attention.

'Why aren't you doing anything! You could have helped him!' - Shouted Stiles, almost pleading.

Alastor looked at him calmly, with a cold glint in his eyes. 'I can't be his babysitter, Stiles. He has to learn to control himself on his own. If I interfere every time, it will only slow his learning.'

When the game was over, Alastor calmly walked over to Malia, who immediately hugged him, congratulating him on his victory. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and, for a moment, he allowed himself to relax. However, his hypersensitive hearing continued to work. He picked up scraps of conversation in the stands that instantly brought him back to reality: the recent victim, whose body was covered in wolf hair, turned out to be Laura Hale, Derek's sister. Instantly a theory popped into Alastor's mind - Laura might have been the alpha, but her death was clearly not accidental. Since the alpha had started gathering the pack afterwards, which Scott's conversion confirmed, then he was a Betta. So she was killed to take alpha status, which means she was most likely killed by a pack member, or a close relative who could have put her guard down and attacked her. For a normal beta to kill an alpha in a fair fight is almost impossible.

Malia pulled away from him and looked into his eyes with genuine joy. 'You were incredible!' - She said, laughing happily.

'Thank you, but that's where the evening just begins,' Alastor replied with an enigmatic smile. He put his arm around her waist and they headed away from the field, determined to spend this evening together. The quiet time together was just right to relieve the tension after their evening training session before the Lacrosse game. He drove Malia home later, satisfied with how the day had gone.