Chapter Text
Greenberg wasn’t the most popular kid in school. He wasn’t that good at lacrosse either. His grades didn’t suck, but they weren’t fantastic either. Greenberg was stuck in the middle of everything. He was not good or bad at anything. He was just Greenberg. He was the kid that would call up his teachers and coach to discuss homework outside of school, to the utter horror of Coach Finstock.
He was the kid that harbored a secret love for sleuthing. Greenberg grew up reading the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. He liked the old private eye types of books and TV shows. Not the spy crap that is out nowadays where everything is about gadgets. Greenberg liked it when you had to hide behind a desk and actually hear someone admit to something as opposed to a webcam being hidden in just the right angle to catch the suspect admitting to the crime.
Greenberg liked to figure out crimes. He was okay at solving the several crimes he had come across so far. Who found Mr. Buttons in the back shed? This guy! Who single handedly saved that bird’s nest that had fallen to the ground from the neighborhood stray dog? This guy! Yeah, Greenberg was a natural at solving crimes.
First Entry
Unfortunately, after all of his research, he never once imagined he would find out about supernatural creatures that stalked the town of Beacon Hills. It was just a typical day at school when he walked into the locker room to find Stiles Stilinski trying to help Scott McCall from totally “wolfing” out and killing the entire lacrosse team. Seriously, just because they weren’t the best players was no excuse for McCall to try to kill them all.
Instead of doing the rational thing and talking to either boy or even researching werewolves, Greenberg wrote it down in his journal and went about his day. It is Beacon Hills not Sunnydale, he repeated in his head over and over for the next several days.
Second Entry
The second time he had an encounter with the supernatural was during the school dance. Greenberg had walked off from the dance after Finstock yelled at him. He didn't mean anything against the coach. But it was seriously messed up wanting to kick McCall out because he was dancing with Danny. Greenberg had curled up under his favorite tree and played with his phone when he heard the screams. He hurried to the bleachers just in time to see a creepy older man rip into Lydia in the lacrosse field while Stiles tried to stop him. Greenberg had to stifle his shout of alarm and keep from darting into the field to help. He wasn't a hero he reminded himself. If Stiles hadn't gotten Jackson to help her, Greenberg would like to think he would have at least have dialed 911. Watching Jackson carry her off had settled his fears, but where did that man take Stiles? He wrote in his journal that night about Stiles and Jackson's bravery.
Third Entry
Greenberg’s third encounter wasn't exactly as simple as witnessing something happen. He actually wet himself that night. Greenberg was out on a typical night trying to catch fireflies. Anyone who said fireflies were not native to the area had never gone deep into the forest to find them. He had been minding his own business when he heard growling and fighting. Going against his baser instincts, Greenberg followed the noise and hid behind a tree. If he had seen himself, he would have thought his eyes were popping out at the sight of an old geezer taking a sword and slicing someone in half. This was not the best night to be out catching fireflies. Greenberg waited to get home to write about that experience in his journal, only stopping midway to realize he left his jar of fireflies at the scene of the crime. He chastised himself before finishing the entry. Greenberg reluctantly retrieved the jar the next morning only to find the scene void of any dead body parts or blood for that matter. Strange.
Fourth Entry
Greenberg wasn't the person you asked out on a date or the person you picked on for not dating. He simply wasn't on anyone’s radar for dating. The only time he had ever asked someone out, she had laughed in his face. Jackson made sure that no one on the lacrosse team made fun of him. It wasn't Greenberg's fault he wasn't as handsome as the other guys, but it was his fault for having shouted as loud as possible when asking the poor Freshman out. Needless to say, Greenberg did not date. He had grown close to Danny and Jackson over the last year, so it was usual for him to tag along with Danny to Jungle. Danny was a bit of a romantic at heart. As the one guy Danny had fallen head over heels in love with refused to acknowledge Danny's existence, Danny dated, for lack of a better word, losers. So that’s how Greenberg found himself at Jungle one night. His one job was to make sure Danny didn't do anything to embarrass himself too much in front of his now ex-boyfriend. Greenberg had downed his Hole in One by the time he realized the drink must have had more alcohol than he thought it did. The creepy lizard creature on the ceiling would make anyone rethink that last drink they had. After watching Danny get attacked, Greenberg felt it was time for him to wait until he was of age before drinking again. He made another entry into his journal that night while trying to forget the image of Danny helpless on the dance floor.
Fifth Entry
Eventually, Greenberg realized he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when finding out about the supernatural creatures. He resolved to take his sleuthing up a notch and really find out what was going on. He was tired of his friends getting attacked. There were more dead bodies around than the police knew what to do. After making a pretty amazing pros and cons list, Greenberg decided to follow one of the "suspects" to see what was really going on. One thing for sure was where there was a crime or dead body, Stiles wasn't far away. Greenberg decided it was high time that he put his reading experience to good work.
That's how he found himself watching Stiles from behind a dumpster during the rave. The guy was pouring dirt all around the warehouse as if he were laying down fertilizer. Greenberg was sure that the dirt had a reason to being there, but he was stumped. Stiles had to break the line of useless dirt to let some older guy run across it. Interesting. But who the heck was that guy? And why was the dirt keeping him from walking over it? If the guy was a supernatural being, wouldn't salt be the preferred barrier? Yes, Greenberg did watch "Supernatural." His excuse was that his favorite animal is a moose.
Later on that night he found out that as he watched Stiles, a girl had been killed inside and apparently there was a gun fight nearby. Apparently following Stiles was not the way to find the killer. Another boring journal entry was added that night along with some very nice drawings that Greenberg decided to doodle into the journal for each previous entry. Each one was a picture of each scene as he remembered them. Just another way to pass the time, he thought to himself.
Sixth Entry
It was the next time at lacrosse practice that Greenberg decided to switched tactics. He would follow Isaac Lahey, as long as Danny didn't notice. Isaac had turned into a bit of a prick after his dad died horribly, so Greenberg was interested in finding out whether or not he had been given “the bite.” There was no way he was that good at lacrosse, almost as good as McCall. Instead of going to Lydia’s party, he followed Isaac to an abandoned warehouse which housed some trains. He sat in the web and spider infested office gleefully as he saw Isaac, Vernon Boyd, and even Erica Reyes get chained up by that same Abercrombie and Fitch guy from the rave. Greenberg had made a mental note to research who this guy was.
After a long time, Greenberg witnessed the teenagers change and begin to attack each other. When Isaac took off out of the train, Greenberg ducked down. He could hear the growling coming from Isaac just outside the door to the office. When he glanced up at the filing cabinet, he could see a distorted face reflected, looking right back at him. Greenberg nearly wet himself again that night as he shut his eyes.
After what felt like forever, he turned to look out of the small window again. Isaac, Boyd and Erica were all chained up in the train but the older guy was gone. Feeling as if now was as good a time as ever, Greenberg hurried out of the warehouse and high-tailed it home. He made another journal entry that night and added a creepy picture of Isaac to go with it. Greenberg was ready to stop sleuthing this particular case as he looked at his drawing of the distorted werewolf. More than likely the distortion was from the file cabinet being damaged, but Greenberg was scared. There was no way he would put himself face to face with a werewolf ever again.
Final Entry
Greenberg did not even want to play during the championship game. He was pulled partway through it and he was glad. Finstock had claimed that he sucked at playing lacrosse, but with those brick walls for opponents, Greenberg was perfectly fine with sucking. Greenberg was surprised to see Stiles really come into his own that night. Who would have thought that the human in the pack of werewolves would be the champion that night? Unfortunately the victory was short-lived. After the lights came back on and seeing Jackson’s lifeless body on the ground that he knew something bad and supernatural was going on during the game. Panicked and scared for his own life, Greenberg rushed home. He quickly entered everything into his journal that night, but he couldn't bring himself to draw the lifeless body of the guy he looked up to for years. Instead he locked every door and window in his house before hiding under his bed with his lacrosse stick. If something could happen to Jackson, anything could happen to Greenberg.
In the morning, Greenberg crawled out from under his bed only to meet the creepy red eyes of a werewolf sitting on top of his bed. His journal was laid out in front of the older man.
“Who…who are you?” Greenberg whispered as he raised his lacrosse stick in front of himself as protection.
“Ah, you must be Greenberg,” the man said smiling creepily back at Greenberg and his lacrosse stick. The man flipped a page in the journal as if he were reading a magazine. His eyes traveled back to Greenberg after reading the final entry. “I hear you are a bit of a scribe.” He then closed the journal and held out his hand with his claws extended, “I’m Deucalion.”