Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Stiles isn’t here. And even if he was, this is a vet clinic, meaning we take care of animals,” Erica is saying as Scott swings the door open. She’s leaning way over the counter and has taken her earrings off, which makes Scott immediately back out of the clinic. “Animals. Animals. Not dumbass werewolves who don’t know better than to shit where they sleep, and then drag their family into it because somehow none of you besides your mom know what to do with a body except call Peter! Peter! A guy who buys surgical-grade hacksaws in bulk!”

“Cora’s here,” Derek says, standing on the sidewalk by Scott and scowling at the door.

“No shit, Brain. Might as well feed Pinky to the cats with that kind of scintillating insight,” Stiles snaps, shoving between the two of them. He does stop long enough to grab the sample case he’d nearly jostled out of Scott’s arms, but then he slams his way into the lobby.

Equinniped blood samples are notoriously unstable and Scott had meant to just go around to the back door, but…he sighs, tugs his dampish shirt away from where it’s sticking to his neck, and turns to the film crew. “Okay, we’ll meet you around the back. Isaac’s going to finish taking Fergus in that way, it’s just Stiles and I need to go adjust the loading dock. Be a couple minutes.”

Boyd flips Scott a salute and then waves the rest of the crew to walk around with him. That settled, Scott pulls the door open. “You want to just meet me over there too?”

Derek really, really wants to, Scott can tell by how the other man’s got his head craned around even as he files in after Scott. “She’s my sister, I’ll get her.”

“You’re getting the bill for the detail job my car’s going to need, is what you’re getting,” Cora hisses at them. “You said you were going to be right back. Is this right back, Derek?”

She holds up a large rubber floor mat. Judging from the shape, it’s from the shotgun side of the car. Judging from the color, stink, and degree of disintegration, it suffered its fate no less than thirty minutes ago.

“What are you even doing here?” Derek snaps back. “You’re supposed to be watching—”

“What the hell did you people do to my baby?” Stiles growls.

Stiles isn’t visible, but from the sound of things, he’s crouched down on the far side of the reception counter. From the way Erica’s standing back, hand on hip, head cocked, it isn’t actually that bad, but everybody except her and Lydia, who’s hanging out in the hallway behind her and frowning at her phone, goes completely still. Nobody moves until Stiles, arms full of a grunting, scaly body, stands up.

“I didn’t do anything,” Cora says defensively. “Derek was supposed to watch her, but no, he dumped her on me and she started barfing all over the place so I took her here. Because this is where you take sick animals.”

“Derek’s not supposed to watch her,” Stiles mutters. He hikes the body in his arms up a little more, patting it as it stirs and lets out a sluggish grunt. “Peter is. That goddamn—Scott, look, lemme just settle her in the back and then I’ll be right out for the kelpie, okay?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Scott says.

Stiles gives him a nod of thanks and then walks off towards the offices. Erica moves out of his way, then moves back and gives Derek and Cora a long look.

“Are you kidding me?” Derek hisses, stepping up next to his sister. “We need him less mad at Peter, not more. Couldn’t you just call me?”

“Oh, sure, I was gonna call you when you’re out chasing your one truuuue alpha around town,” Cora fires back. “Also, look, she started puking. What the hell was I supposed to do? I don’t know how to take care of her! And I’m sure as hell not going to be the one there if she croaks!”

“Okay, okay, look, she’s not gonna croak, she’s fine,” Erica says. More to Scott than to the other two, and she comes around the counter as he comes up. “I did a little checking already, she’s not actually sick.”

Scott looks at the still-smoking car mat in Cora’s hand. She notices and starts to turn, and when the mat bumps against her leg, a few more bits crumble off. “I don’t know, maybe you should go help Stiles get some—”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Scott, love you, but I’m the one who qualified as a vet tech and Cora’s the one who failed two Bio classes even though we are fucking werewolves who can reattach our fingers so long as gangrene hasn’t set in yet and Zilla is fine. She’s just a little pregnant, okay?”

“Hey, I don’t see what the hell were healing has to do with the stupid long-ass Latin names they came up with for bones rather than something easy to remember, like ‘top legbone’ and—wait, what?” Cora says.

“What?” Scott says. “Oh, wow, that’s amazing!”

“Oh…fuck,” Derek says.

Everyone turns to Derek, who just rubs his hand over and over his face, muttering about never, ever asking Peter who died again. Scott starts to ask Derek what’s wrong, but then he hears Stiles yelping in the other room, followed by a small gravelly noise. He takes a step towards that way, only for Isaac to call from the opposite end of the clinic that he thinks the kelpie’s waking up.

“I’m fine!” Stiles yells, reading Scott’s mind. “Go get Fergus in! Zilla just overate because some asshole werewolf doesn’t know how to use a measuring cup!”

“Okay!” Scott says, heading towards the loading dock.

“So that’s a…” Lydia asks as he passes her.

Scott starts to turn back, but then Erica answers her: “Godzilla. She’s Stiles’ mini gojira kaiju.”

“…Godzilla the Godzilla,” Lydia says. “Really?”

“They’re vets, okay? They don’t get paid to come up with creative names,” Erica says irritably. “That’s what you’re for.”

Lydia’s brows rise. “Is that what you think a director does? Well, the day so far suddenly makes so much more sense.”

Kelpie, Scott reminds himself. Kelpie. That one, he can help.

* * *

[A kelpie the size of a Labrador retriever is wading across a no-frills metal tank. When it reaches the end, it hesitates, then slowly rises up out of the water. As its back rises into the air, the part of it still underwater ripples oddly. Then it straightens up on slightly wobbly legs, fishy bits gone, soggy horse-tail clamped tightly to its haunches.

Camera pans over to SCOTT, bare-chested and completely sodden, leaning his crossed arms against a chain-link fence and grinning. It pulls back enough, shaking a little as it hits something, that it becomes obvious that the kelpie is in a pen and the camera had been shooting through a small rectangular opening. SCOTT moves across the camera, which dips to catch him tossing a hunk of raw, bloody meat through the slot.

The kelpie’s head goes up, ears pricked. Then it positively shoots across the pen, and as SCOTT slides a metal flap over the opening and latches it, vicious ripping noises are heard.]

SCOTT: Well, so far, it’s active and hungry and I can’t see anything wrong with how it’s moving. We’ll still do the full work-up later, when it’s calmed down a little and we don’t have to worry about its stress levels, but I’m pretty hopeful that Fergus may have gotten out of this without any long-term issues.

CAMERAMAN (off-screen): How’d you figure out its name?

SCOTT: *face blanks out* Um, he—doesn’t he look like a Fergus to you?

STILES (stepping into frame): The asshole who thought he was going to decorate his slumhouse with a kelpie tank sure as hell doesn’t get naming rights.

DIRECTOR (off-screen): Can we please mind the projected rating?

STILES: Okay, fine. *bobs out and then back into frame* The coldblooded son of a brainless basilisk who thought kelpies are wall ornaments doesn’t get to name that poor thing. We rescued him, we’re gonna be rehoming him, we get to name him. And I think Scott’s onto something. He does seem to like the name. Fergus!

[Camera cuts back to pen, where the kelpie is standing over a dark red smear and staring through the fence at STILES and SCOTT. Its lips are curled back and when its long, serpent-like black tongue flicks out and laps away some of the blood, its big, white, sharp teeth look even bigger.]

SCOTT: All right, let’s give him some time to stretch his legs and get used to this place. *turns around, oblivious to the fact that the kelpie is nosing closer to the fence and its tongue is now threading through the links* At this age, kelpies grow really fast and a lot of people don’t realize how big they can get, so unfortunately what happened to Fergus is more common than I’d like. This is why it’s really important to research your pets before you take them home.

ERICA: Yeah. It’s called the Internet, and if you search it, you might come across the Scottish Kelpie Club, which has a great website. I was actually talking to them *casually steps behind Scott and waves what appears to be an iron poker between him and the kelpie tongue* because we don’t have the resources to keep Fergus for very long. They’re making some calls but they already told us that they might have a permanent home for Fergus lined up.

[The kelpie immediately recoils from the poker. Its hooves clack loudly against the concrete. Frowning, SCOTT turns around, only to find ERICA blinking innocently and the kelpie turned half-away, head down and nosing at the little bit of blood left on the concrete. SCOTT shrugs and turns back around. ERICA sighs and the end of the poker peeps over her right shoulder.]

SCOTT: Oh, that’s great! So hopefully, Fergus’ check comes back with a clean bill of health and he’ll get some rest and good food, and then we’ll send him off to his forever home.

STILES (off-screen): Yeah, this is a pretty good ending for an abandonment case…is that the phone?

[Camera zooms out and turns, panning across ERICA, SCOTT, and STILES as they all turn towards the back door of the clinic. It momentarily pauses on ISAAC, huddled up behind a very battered-looking, wet riot shield and still looking shellshocked, then swings over to the door. A second later, the door opens and DEREK leans out, holding his cell out.]

STILES (off-screen): Look, Derek, I know this is a pain in your ass but you’re just going to have to find a spine and stand up to him because I’m not—

DEREK: It’s not Peter, okay? *twitches as a clearly audible, clearly disagreeing response comes over the cell* Fuck. *shoves phone against his shoulder* Your office phone isn’t him, it’s Allison. She was taking one of the trainee teams around the preserve and they found something stuck in one of those runoff pipes, and she thinks one of you should come check it out.

SCOTT (off-screen): Does she know what it is?

DEREK: It’s too far down the pipe so they’re having trouble getting a good look at it, but she thinks she saw one horn so maybe a unicorn.

STILES (off-screen): Well, shi—I mean, yeah, I guess we better fire up the van. Isaac, hold the fort down, would you? All we’ve got is Freda the Jackalope’s ingrown horn extraction, and you’ve done those before.

ISAAC (off-screen): Wha—Erica’s going out too?

ERICA (stepping into screen, poker blatantly over one shoulder): If it’s really a unicorn, you’re lucky we’re not making you go out too. We’re gonna need all the bodies we can get, even with Allison’s team.

CAMERAMAN (off-screen): For a unicorn? But aren’t those things supposed to be really friendly? They made that whole movie franchise—

SCOTT (off-screen): I hate those movies. *camera swings back and he doesn’t even register, he’s so busy looking frustrated* I mean, look, movies are movies and while I wish they’d do more research, I get that you’re supposed to suspend disbelief a little. But those movies just—they were just wrong all the way, and so many people have gotten hurt because of them, and I just—well, never mind, we need to get out there.

[SCOTT starts walking towards the door. The camera slides in behind him and STILES, following them as they all walk into the clinic. Once inside, STILES doglegs into a room. ERICA is about to follow, but is caught by ISAAC, who’s run up and who immediately begins asking her a bunch of questions about the jackalope.

Camera moves towards them, then slightly to the side as an exasperated ERICA nudges ISAAC to the opposite side of the hall. Then it flips around, catching SCOTT and DEREK standing together in the doorway. DEREK is hunched over so that the height difference between them is nearly eliminated, and is clearly unhappy.]

DEREK: Look, I’m just saying, she said that before I told her about Peter and Stiles and once she heard, she said—

SCOTT: Derek, she’s going to have to bring it here anyway. There’s the whole tagging program—you can’t just let a feral unicorn run off. So we might as well go and help her out. It’ll be faster, since we all know what to do, and that way it’s a lot less likely somebody’s got to go to the hospital and then Mom’s dragged into this. Because you know how she gets when they’re fighting.

DEREK: I just think you know how Stiles gets, especially now that we know what the hell they’re fighting about. You really want him as back-up right now?

SCOTT: Look, Stiles is a pro and this is an animal who needs help, whatever else is going on. I’ll call you when we’re done, okay?

[He shoulders by DEREK, who starts back, expression frustrated and hurt. SCOTT doesn’t really look that proud of himself, but he’s got the same determined expression on that he had just before tackling the kelpie back at the station.

DEREK shakes his head, then abruptly lunges after SCOTT. He grabs the other man’s arm and the two of them collide with each other. SCOTT stumbles, his head dipping to block DEREK’s face, and then a loud click is heard.

Camera turns around. ERICA is standing in the doorway across from it, one arm leaning against the jamb and tapping a taser against it. She raises her free hand and waggles her finger at the camera. Then twists a little and switches to her middle finger as DIRECTOR irritably drops her hand out of what was probably a ‘turn back around!’ gesture. CAMERAMAN starts to mutter, but then there’s a muffled roar. It’s pitched about the same as a housecat but still has enough power to ruffle some papers tacked on a corkboard down the hall.

Camera goes down the hall a few feet, then pokes into another room and finds STILES squatting on the floor, back to the camera. It slowly rises over STILES’ shoulder until a small, grayish-green gojira stomping around what appears to be the remains of a Lego village is visible. The kaiju kicks over a Lego person, then leans over, mouth open, and nails it with a small blast of what appears to be blue electricity. It tilts back and raises its head into another roar, the snowflake-like spikes on its back quivering, and then abruptly snuggles down amid the Legos. Its eyes close, and its tail goes limp.]

STILES: Yeah, just needed to vent about the asshole who got you into this, I get it. *reaches out and pets kaiju’s head* Okay, well, good timing because Daddy’s gotta work now and we’re gonna have to leave Isaac to mind the office. *chuckles as kaiju shifts sleepily, belly rounding out to one side* He’s a lot better about reading the instructions than Cora, so I kind of don’t want to have to layer him with anti-radiation spells. So be good, Zilla. I’ll be back soon and then we’re gonna deal with that asshole co-parent of yours.

[As STILES stands up, camera quickly backs out of the room and then retreats further up the hall. It turns back towards the other end of the corridor, landing first on ERICA and DIRECTOR arguing heatedly over something on a phone while ISAAC, looking considerably calmer, uses the riot shield to ferry a small stack of boxes into one of the rooms. Then it goes further back to where SCOTT has both hands around DEREK’s cheeks, talking earnestly at the other man. DEREK’s eyes keep trying to roll but he doesn’t appear to mind getting handled by SCOTT.]

STILES (off-screen): Hey, there.

CAMERAMAN (off-screen): I’m shooting B-roll.

STILES (walking on-screen as camera turns): Sure, right, and you’re gonna edit it all out later. *raises arm, back to camera, and snaps his fingers*

CAMERAMAN (off-screen): What the—

[Camera field of vision goes sparkly. Very sparkly. Nothing but sparkles, sparkles, sparkles, while the theme song from a well-known series about magical ponies plays. Then footage abruptly stops.]

* * *

“I really don’t see why you’re so upset over this. It’s not like I even broke it, or like you lost the footage before Boyd decided to go TMZ behind-the-scenes, even though that would’ve just be saving us the argument in post-production,” Stiles says, annoyed, as they get out of the van and into the preserve. “I told Boyd, just reboot it and what happened when he did? It works now!”

Lydia is not impressed by the dirt access road they’re on, the thick, dark woods that line either side of it, or the way magical tattoos intermittently weave up and down Stiles’ arms as he stomps back and forth in front of the cars. “Need I remind you that even with creative approval rights, you have an obligation to deliver enough footage to make a thirty-minute episode every week—”

“Okay, no, you deliver the footage, we just walk around doing our jobs, that’s what you—”

The woods suddenly go even darker, except for a flickering reddish halo around Lydia, whose eyes have started to glow an ominous yellow. Scott hears a scuffle behind him and turns to see Boyd dodging around a startled Derek—leaving him to angrily shoulder off the other crew members trying to follow—to scramble back into the back of the van. Then he turns back around to find Stiles looking highly unimpressed and crooking his fingers in a very—

Scott jumps between the two of them, waving his own arms. “Everybody, let’s just calm down, all right? I know it’s been a little rough today—”

“What the—Scott, he’s sparking,” Derek hisses, stabbing one finger at Stiles.

“—but honestly, it’s just the first day of filming and we’re all getting used to this. We’re going be working together for a while, so we’re going to have to learn how to talk to each other,” Scott goes on, trying to ignore the fear-whine undertone to Derek’s voice. “So let’s just figure this scene out and go from there and talk about everything else later, okay? Because Allison’s waiting for us.”

“And she’s kind of got the fiery crown thing going,” Erica says from where she’s calmly screwing an extension onto a rifle. “Look, boss-man, I know what you’re thinking and I’d like to claim that’s in violation of preserve regs on fire-starting outside of designated areas too, but we’re already on an installment plan with the Forest Service, you know? So do you wanna start this?”

Stiles flicks her an annoyed look, then resumes glaring at Lydia. She arches her brow and leans back on her trailing foot, her forward one impatiently tapping against the dirt.

“Also, there’s an angry, scared, possibly hurt feral unicorn?” Scott tries. “Trapped in an old drainage tunnel? When one collapsed just last week, and everybody remembers that one who blew up a dam when it went over the top, right?”

Lydia blinks. “It what?”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Stiles says, suddenly relaxing. He runs one hand—his arm-tattoos have disappeared—over the top of his head, then sighs and swings around to catch a belt of darts that Erica tosses out of the van. “We should get it out before it or anyone else gets hurt, because that’s what’s really important, over some pissing contest over who gets to invade whose privacy. Good call, Scotty.”

Stiles drapes the belt over one shoulder and then walks into the woods, pulling his phone out as he goes. He doesn’t call anybody on it, but instead thumbs at it until the front end shoots out a whitish line of light that points further into the trees. He twists to follow it, then looks over his shoulder.

“So this gonna go over the family-safe rating?” he calls. “I mean, if you want, you can probably stay with the cars and just wait till we carry it back and shoot us loading it.”

“Boyd,” Lydia grits out, without moving. She even still has her arms crossed.

Her hair’s not on fire any more, at least. Scott gives himself a shake, then jogs back to the end of the van, swerving as Boyd and the rest of the film crew pile out of it. “Erica, you’ll—”

“Nobody’s gonna die, Scott,” Erica calls back as she trots after Stiles. “C’mon, I’m sure Lydia remembers your mom and all.”

Scott looks over just in time to see Lydia twitch as she finally uncrosses her arms. He…wishes he was more reassured, but for all her sarcasm, Erica’s generally got a good sense of what’s really dangerous and what’s just their lives. And while he kind of hates to admit it, given Stiles is his best friend, she’s better about telling him which one she thinks a situation is.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Derek mutters, coming up next to Scott. “I think you should call Allison.”

“Derek, we are literally here,” Scott says. Well, snaps, really, and then he winces and sticks his head in the duffel bag he’s got in front of him. Then takes a breath and makes himself push back up—at least the crew have gone after Stiles and didn’t catch that. “Look, I know, after this one we’re going to break for lunch and I’ll talk to Stiles then, okay? But—”

“I actually didn’t mean the whole thing with Peter. Honestly, if Stiles is this pissed off, maybe he’ll just blast the unicorn out of there and that’ll take care of it,” Derek says.

Scott takes another deep breath. Focuses on the tools in the bag, gets the ones he needs, and then pushes the bag up front. He rearranges a few other things so most of the back is clear—Allison said it looked like a small one so they’re hoping to just get away with the van, since they still haven’t had time to buy a replacement large-animal trailer—and then climbs out of the van and closes the back doors.

“Fuck,” Derek says. “Okay, I don’t actually want it dead.”

“Look, it’s fine, we’ve had this talk, I just…can’t do it again right now, okay?” Scott says as he starts after the others. “I know how you feel and all, it’s just…”

“No, seriously.” Derek catches up, but doesn’t quite get to where Scott can see his face, unless Scott wants to turn around and then he’d have to slow down. “This is what you love. I get that, Scott, I just…this is hard to watch when I’m actually here, I don’t know why people want to watch a whole show about it.”

“Well, we’re not actually doing this to be famous,” Scott mutters. Then grimaces. “Okay, maybe Erica is. And Stiles, a little, but I think that’s about teaching people, you know, like Carl Sagan.”

“Yeah, if he blew up so much stuff that you had to go to Peter to find somebody who owes him enough to sell you car insurance,” Derek says under his breath. He pulls briefly ahead of Scott, just long enough for Scott to see he’s more concerned than grumpy, and then drops back again. “Just tell Allison and me where to help this time. Actually help. Not like that time with the cave-in.”

Scott starts to say he doesn’t know what Derek’s talking about, except—he does, even if he can’t remember exactly which cave-in that was. He presses his lips together, then nods.

“Also, seriously, talk to Stiles,” Derek adds after a second. He smells a little less wary, and he’s finally walking next to Scott instead of guarding Scott’s back. “The last time he and Peter had a fight over Zilla, you lost half the roof. And that wasn’t even about babies. Peter is such an asshole.”

“I thought we didn’t actually know what happened?” Scott says, but it’s half-hearted.

Derek looks at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna. I mean, I don’t want him getting more stressed out than he already is, with the film crew around,” Scott sighs. “He was actually looking forward to this, you know? He had a bunch of soundbites written up for each patient and everything, and…well, look, he knows why we need this. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”