The sound of the front door opening echoed through the quiet space. Scott McCall stepped inside, dropping his bag on the floor with a weary sigh. It had been another long day of balancing school, lacrosse, and dealing with Beacon Hills’ usual supernatural chaos. As he moved into the living room, his sharp brown eyes instantly caught sight of his mom, Melissa, perched on the edge of the couch. Her gentle hands worked carefully, wiping at fresh scrapes and cuts on the small figure sitting beside her.

Scott froze, his gaze flicking between Melissa and the unfamiliar presence. The kid—no older than eight or ten—sat silently, their small frame hunched slightly. Their torn clothes and bruised skin hinted at a rough time, yet their bright, wide eyes darted around nervously, trying to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. Scott’s heightened senses kicked in almost immediately. He caught their scent, faint but distinct, and something about it set his instincts on edge. They weren’t human—of that he was certain.

Melissa looked up, noticing Scott’s arrival. “Hey,” she greeted him warmly, though her focus didn’t stray from her work. “You’re home. Good. I could use a little backup here.”

Scott hesitated. “Uh, Mom? Who’s…?” He gestured toward the kid, his voice careful yet curious. Melissa’s face softened, her maternal warmth shining through as she smiled down at her new charge.

“I found them,” Melissa explained, her tone steady but tinged with concern. “On my way home. They were all alone, just wandering the streets. Clearly had a rough time.” She shook her head. “No one should go through that—not a kid. So, I brought them here. We’re going to help them.”

Scott stepped closer, his senses still buzzing as he watched the kid cautiously. “Mom,” he said slowly, “I don’t think they’re… human.” His voice wasn’t accusatory but laced with quiet concern.

Melissa’s hands paused briefly before she turned to him. “Scott,” she said firmly, her expression resolute, “I don’t care what they are. They’re a child. A scared, hurt child. And they need someone to care for them.” Her gaze softened, almost pleading. “They have nowhere else to go.”

Scott bit back his initial hesitation, letting out a slow exhale. His mom had that determined look in her eyes—the one she wore when she refused to back down, especially when it came to helping someone. He glanced at the kid again, their small, tired form tugging at something in his chest. They weren’t a threat, he realized. They were scared. Vulnerable. Just a kid who happened to be supernatural.

Melissa resumed cleaning the cuts, murmuring reassurances to her new charge. Scott watched, his weary expression softening as he saw how genuinely happy his mom looked. Despite the situation, there was a warmth about her—an excitement in her voice as she asked simple questions, checking if they were comfortable, if they needed anything.

Scott crouched near the couch, careful not to spook the kid. “Hey,” he said gently, his tone lighter than before. “Looks like you’ve had a rough day. My mom’s pretty great at taking care of people. She’s like… a superhero, really.”

The kid’s wary gaze met his briefly, and Scott offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’ve got snacks. And, uh, a ton of movies. So… I guess you’re stuck with us for a while.”