Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There wasn’t anything sudden or unexpected about what was happening. Perhaps that made it worse. The fact that she could feel it building up inside of her. The pressure constricting itself around her lungs like a snake around its prey. It was heavy and suffocating. She felt the pounding of her heart as it continued to pump blood through tubes that seemed to shrink with every beat. The echo of it filled her ears. Her surroundings, the walls, ceiling, and ground, seemed to fade into nonexistence.

Everything hurt. Her chest, her lungs, her throat, her head. She was struggling to breathe. The panic had her sliding down onto the floor, right hand resting on her chest as she tried to calm herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, like a hammer against a plank of balsa wood. She could feel every pulse and beat in her body.

She was so scared, so alone. Her head, swarming in confusion, drowned her thoughts and her ability to function. Her vision sprouted spots, obscuring the unfamiliar area around her even further. Tears streamed down her face slowly.

It felt like she was there forever, forever struggling to breathe. She hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching her. She barely even registered someone there with her, but after a few minutes a voice started to come into focus. It was saying something.

Lydia shot up from her bed, panting as she struggled to regain her composure. It took her a moment to realize she could breathe. With each new breath of air that entered her lungs, Lydia relaxed further. Her surroundings slowly began to register to her senses. She was in her bed, tucked under her comforter. She felt safe, not alone or scared. Reality had come back to her.

“You’re safe Lyds, it’s alright. Just a bad dream.”

Jackson was by her side, his arms wrapping themselves around her shaken frame. Lydia tried to say something, anything but nothing comes out. She shakes her head and takes another breath before trying again.

“Stiles…” It comes out barely above a whisper.

There is a long pause before Jackson replies.

“What the heck is a Stiles?”

__________________

“I’m a Stiles!” Stiles threw his hands up as if it was obvious and leaned back against his seat in exasperation. If he had a nickle for every time someone asked that or questioned his name, he would be rich. The professor barely glanced up at him before continuing down the list of names of students that were supposed to be in his class.

Stiles shifted uneasily beneath the gaze of the class after his outburst and sunk lower in his seat. He picked up his pen and and flicked it back and forth between two of his fingers while he waited for the class to end.

It was his second semester in the transfer program at Beacon Hills Community College. He could have probably gotten into an actual four-year university, but he wanted to stay close to home. After everything that had happened in high school, Stiles was worried about his dad. Stiles had promised the older Stilinski that he wasn’t staying because of him but rather because it was cheaper to transfer, especially since an Associates Degree was the same whether he went to a community college or to a four-year university.

Stiles hurried out of the building when class ended. He didn’t want to stick around any longer than he had to after his embarrassing outburst. It happened every year, the name thing. Despite this, he still had a tendency to loudly voice his emotions on the subject.

He shifted the bag on his shoulder to a more comfortable position as he walked past other students and began heading toward the library. He had almost two hours until his next class and couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than filling his brain with useless knowledge.

The library was Stiles’ thinking place. It was quiet and had a few more secluded areas he could camp out at than anywhere else he knew of. He wandered through a few aisles, gathering some reading material before settling in his favorite corner by a far window. The wood table and coupled chairs that lay waiting in the secluded space was a welcoming sight for Stiles.

The setup was hidden by unlabeled book shelves. Stiles figured they were books no one ever checked out or books that fell between fiction and nonfiction and into the category he liked to call “too close to tell”. The first time he had sat there he had browsed through the collection of estranged books.

To resist the urge to highlight all over the pages of the books, Stiles pulled out a random notebook and pen from his backpack. The cap of the pen sat between his lips as his eyes scanned the pages of information. It wasn’t long before Stiles forgot about the earlier incident and became lost among the words printed on the page.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, his body moving on autopilot, forcing his concentration to break. He yawned and stretched back in his chair. He glanced out of the nearby window, watching the nearby tree sway with the wind, before some commotion in the library caught his attention.

A red hair girl, followed by two good looking guys and a pretty brunette, was scanning the aisles of books. She angrily snapped at one of the guys before lowering her voice again.

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together. He watched as she yanked books from the shelves, putting back the ones she didn’t want and tossing the ones she did to the angry looking guy.

Stiles doesn’t know why he continued to watch them, but he did. He watched the short haired brunette look around with disinterest. Her eyes skipped right over him, making him feel even more invisible to the world than usual.

He watched the red head turn on her heels and point her finger in the angry one’s face before realizing her outburst and straightening out her outfit. Stiles wanted to laugh. For no reason really other than seeing the guy’s expression soften and grow quiet.

Stiles decided then and there that the redhead was a queen in her own right. She had a commanding and demanding presence and he knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it.

Stiles glanced down at his watch habitually and cursed. He was going to be late to class. Shoving his things into his bag, Stiles scooped up the books he had laid out on the table and dropped them on the return rack on his way out.

Any thought of the small group in the library left his head as he rushed down the path to the desired building and into the classroom.

__________________

Lydia paced the room while trying her best to keep her voice down.

“It’s called supernatural detection. Like being able to seek out and find other supernatural beings.” Lydia quipped, then quieter she added; “That or it means he is going to die.”

The library was virtually empty now. They had set up at a small table in the corner of the library after the kid sitting there had nearly tripped his way out of the library.

“So, Stiles is definitely a person?” Scott asked and Lydia nodded. They had searched the bestiary and numerous other sources for mythical creatures and lore and had come up empty on the creature front for anything about a “Stiles”. Lydia had however found something that interested her personally.

She had skimmed through a book on Banshees, trying getting the general gist of what her dreams could mean. Sadly, there wasn’t anything specific about dreams.

“It was just a dream, Lydia.” Jackson was flipping the pages of one of the many books she had pulled off the shelf. She knew he wasn’t actually reading the words on the pages, rather, he was looking for pictures, and it only added to her already unstable psyche.

She huffed in irritation. “It wasn’t just a dream. I know what I saw and felt wasn’t my dream, it wasn’t happening to me. It was happening to someone else. It was happening to this- this Stiles.”

Lydia was still unsure of what her Banshee abilities actually consisted of and entailed outside of her scream and finding dead bodies, but she was certain of one thing. They needed to find Stiles.

“We need to help him. I can feel it.”

She directed her last comment toward the phone on the table. She waited patiently for the person on the other end to say something. Scott, Jackson, and Malia waited in silence.

“Fine.” Came the response, voice gruff. “If you think it’s what we need to do, then I trust you, Lydia. Careful though. We don’t know what this Stiles is or if he is friendly.”

Lydia sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Derek. We’ll be careful, I promise.”

Derek grunted before hanging up.

It was Scott who broke the silence.

“So how do we find him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Great, at this rate we will find him when he is already buried six feet under the ground.”

“Leave Lydia alone, Jackson.”

“Bite me, McCall.”

“Guys, shut up. Lydia, what do we do? Do you know what he looks like?” Malia pushed herself off the bookshelf she was leaning against and glared at her pack-mates before turning to Lydia.

Lydia bit her lip. Her eyebrows scrunched closer together as she tried to remember her dream. Her lips pursed upward before she answered.

“No. I only remember the panic attack and the inability to breathe.”

Lydia’s eyes seemed to gloss over as she remembered the fear and pain of the experience. It had felt so real, like it had been happening to her. In a way, it had.

“I can talk to Deaton later today and see if he has any ideas as to what we can do to find this person.” Scott threw the idea out there and received small nods of agreement.

“So we wait and see what Deaton has to say. Unless we come up with a better plan, we wait. See if he comes to us.” Malia looked from one member to another. Another round of nods of agreement and the group cleared off the table before leaving the library.

As they were leaving Lydia’s attention gravitated back to the table hidden in the corner of the library. Her eyes fixed on one of the chairs.

“Lydia, you coming?”

“Y-yeah.”

She gave the corner one last look before following her group out of the library and across the courtyard.

__________________

Stiles was just waiting for the day to get worse. He had an outburst about his name, been late to class, and drafted onto the lacrosse team.

Stiles had played lacrosse in high school. It had taken him years of practice to earn a proper place playing on the team back then, but he had done it. Danny, an old classmate and teammate, had dragged him to the practice/tryouts spouting nonsense about not having enough players.

When they arrived at the practice Stiles had nearly tackled Danny. There had been an uncomfortable amount of people trying out for the team. Danny had just given him a small smile and shrug.

“Since you are here… You might as well just stick around for a bit.”

Danny had then abandoned Stiles to don his goalie padding and uniform.

Against his better instincts, Stiles stayed. He had no illusions of him actually making the team and becoming part of it, but he had honestly missed the sport. It had helped get him through high school. His dad had gone to every one of his games, even the ones where he sat on the bench the whole time.

So he stayed. He did the warm ups with the other, probably much more fit, candidates. He surprised himself when he was able to keep up with most of them. Unlike them however, he opted to keep his shirt on throughout the process.

Another surprise, a fact Danny had forgotten to mention, was that Robert Finstock, their coach in high school, was coaching the college team.

“Stilinski!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Put your back into it, kid! This isn’t high school anymore. You don’t get off the bench unless you have something to offer the team. Now show me some effort!”

“Yes, Coach.” Stiles dragged himself to the back of the line. It certainly felt like highschool again.

“Hey.”

Stiles looked up from the ground to meet the eyes of the person who had spoken to him. The guy in front of him looked oddly familiar but it took Stiles a moment to place it. The guy standing in front of him had been a member of the group who had temporarily caught his interest in the library. He had been with the angry looking guy and the two girls.

“You aren’t that bad. Coach is just a hardass. Just keep practicing and maybe throw the ball a little harder.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles didn’t want to correct the guy who had just tried to give him encouragement, he didn’t want to tell him that he knew he wasn’t going to make the team, that he was just there because of Danny. So Stiles gave him a small smile of gratitude.

“No problem. My name is Scott by the way. Scott McCall.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Scott. The name is-”

“Hurry it up ladies! This is not a social gathering.”

Scott gave Stiles a small smile before turning back to the net. Stiles watched as Scott jogged toward the white ball on the ground, scooped it up, and swung the lacrosse stick with such a forced that the ball spun into the net, bypassing the goalie, Danny.

Stiles watched in awe. Scott was a skilled player. Suddenly feeling subconscious about his own skill, Stiles rolled his shoulders and took a couple deep breathes before he jogged toward the white ball on the ground to take his shot.

“Alright. Ladies. Listen up. I call your name, you stay. I don’t say your name, you get the hell off my field. Maybe try again next Spring. Alright. Greenberg, Mahealani, Lahey, Whittemore, McCall..” The list seemed to go on forever. Despite having no preconceived thought of being on the team, Stiles’ heart sank every time a name was called and wasn’t his own. He was getting ready to grab his bag and head out when Coach’s voice fell heavy on his ears.

“And- Stilinski. The rest of you get out of here. It’s not that you weren’t good, it was that they were better. You want a shot at this team, you get better.”

Stiles lifted his head in surprise, a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Don’t give me that look, Stilinski. I expect great things from you.”

A hand landed on his shoulder blade and Stiles turned to see Scott’s smiling face.

“Congrats, man.”

“You too. You play really well.”

Scott slid his hand against the back of his neck in a subconscious gesture of a humble quality.

“You aren’t too bad yourself.”

Stiles laughed.

“Dude, you suck at lying.”

Stiles liked Scott. He didn’t know him very well, but he seemed like a decent guy.

“Nah, come on. You aren’t that bad. Otherwise Coach wouldn’t have called your name.”

Stiles was about to respond when someone called Scott’s name.

“Scott. Let’s go. We have somewhere to be.”

Stiles looked over Scott’s shoulder to see the angry guy from the library. So he had been at the practice too.

“Look, I have to go, but it was nice to meet you, Stilinski.”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Stiles. It was nice to meet you too. I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Scott.”

Stiles pretended not to notice Scott’s look of confusion and shock when Stiles had said his name. Instead he rushed a goodbye and picked up his bag, leaving Scott standing in the field with the angry-looking guy yelling his name.

He yelled his good-byes and promises of retribution at Danny over his shoulder before dragging his sore body to the parking lot. He hadn’t done this much exercise since senior year. He inwardly wished his younger, past self would have kept up with the workouts during the summer and fall.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of his jeep and turned the key, willing the engine to start. It did, and he sang it praises. Eventually he would have to exchange the duct tape holding the beast together for some actually parts, but for now it would have to do.

__________________

Stiles pulled his jeep into the driveway of his house and turned the engine off. The time on his phone read four o’clock. He exited his vehicle and made his way toward the front door. His dad’s cruiser was nowhere to be seen. Stiles had the house to himself, again. On normal days Stiles was gone before his dad even got up and home and asleep before the Sheriff got off. Some days Stiles would go the whole day without seeing his dad despite living in the same house. He was hoping it wasn’t one of those days. He wanted to tell his dad about lacrosse.

His mind swarmed with a million thoughts before he even reached the front door. He decided that in a couple of hours he would make some veggie burgers and sweet potato fries for dinner, but right now all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and do random research on his computer.

He entered the living room, letting the front door fall shut behind him, and made his way up the stairs and to his room. The familiarity of it made his body relax instantly. He threw his bag on the floor and belly flopped onto his bed. He tucked his arms around his pillow and pulled it closer to his face.

Stiles awoke with a start. He clenched at his shirt and consciously steadied his breath, telling himself to take slow breaths. He glanced over at the clock. He had only been home for an hour. He closed his eyes for a few moments longer before it was clear he would get no more sleep.

He pulled himself up off his bed and into the bathroom to wash his face. It had been a while since he had woken up without fear laced in his subconscious. Why he expected this nap to be any different he didn’t know. He woke himself up with the cold water before heading down stairs and to the kitchen. His dad would be home soon and he wanted to have dinner ready for him.

He peeled the potatoes and began heating a skillet of oil on the stove. He sliced the potatoes into small stips. When the oil was ready he dropped a few into the skillet and watched as the oil bubbled and popped, spitting occasionally in his direction. Stiles waited nearby with metal tongs at the ready. He placed the done fries on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the excess oil. He started the burgers shortly after.

Stiles barely heard his phone ringing.

“Yellow.” Stiles answered.

“Hey kid, I’m running a bit late. Might be here for another hour or so. You go ahead and eat without me. Okay?”

Stiles’ heart sank at the idea of eating along for another night but didn’t mention it to his dad. The Sheriff already had enough on his plate as it was.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll leave you some food in the microwave or something.”

“Don’t go out of your way for me, Stiles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Stiles smiled as he ended the call then cussed as he remembered the food. He burned his finger on the skillet and cursed again. Today was just not his day.

He managed to not burn the food and wrapped a plate for his dad. He left it in the microwave and wrote a little note pointing it out. He ate his food in silence and then rushed upstairs to take a shower before sleep.

When Stiles finally crawled into bed he lay staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on his day. He had made a fool of himself in class, he had weirded a potential friend out with his name, he had burned his hand. Stiles covered his eyes with his hand and let out some hysterical laughter. He was such a mess. He didn’t even know if he would be able to sleep tonight. His ADHD was driving him crazy. Stiles contemplated taking another Adderall but doubted it would actually help him sleep.

Stiles leaned over to the nightstand and picked up his keychain. He removed a single key from the ring and placed the rest of it back on the night stand. He lay with the lights off, eyes closed, and key in hand. He turned the key over in his hand, memorizing each bend and curve as he tried to calm his mind. If he could get himself to focus on one thing long enough then maybe he could get some sleep.

Chapter Text

Scott had almost chased after Stiles. He had probably freaked out Stiles with his surprised expression. Stiles probably thought he was a creep now and chasing after him would only enforce the thought. Scott had just been so surprised. Instead, he ran to meet up with Jackson.

“We were supposed to meet with Lydia twenty minutes ago. She is going to be so pissed at-”

“I found him.”

“Us- Wait. What?”

“Stiles. I found him.”

Jackson glanced over to where the skinny guy with brown ruffled hair, Scott had been talking to, was jogging away.

“Him? That’s a Stiles?”

Scott nodded enthusiastically. He had found Stiles, although it had been a total accident. He still wanted to call and talk to Deaton, more about Lydia’s dream now than how to find Stiles. He would call Deaton after he told Lydia and the pack.

Scott and Jackson hurried to where they were supposed to meet Lydia. The news of finding Stiles weighing happily at the tip of their tongues.

Scott knew this entire thing had taken it’s toll on Lydia. She had a dream about someone in danger. If anything happened to Stiles, Scott was sure it would break Lydia, mostly because he knew it would definitely break him.

The coffee shop was small and local which made it a great meeting place. Lydia was playing disinterestedly with the lid of her coffee cup while staring out the window. She didn’t bother to turn toward the door when Scott and Jackson sped in.

“You’re late.” She mumbled quietly.

“Sorry.”

Jackson gave her a small kiss on the cheek while Scott spewed apologies.

“Really sorry, Lydia. Practice ran late. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. We-”

“We found him.” Jackson smirked when Scott shot him a glare.

Lydia lifted her head off her hand and turned toward the boys.

“You found Stiles?”

“Yeah. He was at lacrosse practice- we made it to the team by the way- and we ran into him.”

Scott had the urge to cover Jackson’s mouth just to get him to shut up. He would consider punching him to get the same outcome. First off, Scott had found him, not Jackson. Who found him didn’t matter to Lydia, however.

Lydia’s eyes seemed to glow with interest, breathing in Jackson’s every word.

“Did you talk to him?”

Jackson looked over to Scott and raised his eyebrows, assumingly to let Scott know he could talk now.

“Barely. We talked a bit about lacrosse and then he left. I didn’t know his name until the end of the conversation.”

“So what next?” Jackson asked after a few moments of silence from Lydia.

“I don’t know. I guess we talk to Derek.”

They decided not to stick around the coffee shop. Instead they agreed to tell Derek in person and talk with the pack about a game plan. Lydia tossed her mostly untouched coffee in the garbage on their way out. She rode with Jackson, Scott riding his bike behind them. They made it to the loft just as Malia and Peter were pulling in.

“How’d it do?” Scott asked as they all fell into step with each other. He knew Derek had given the deadly duo a small assignment involving a couple Betas encroaching on the Hale territory.

“Fine.” Peter has an air of annoyance around him.

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Scott dryly replied.

“He is just pouting because he didn’t get to maim anyone.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile at the bickering between father and daughter. He was glad to hear that Peter didn’t get to maim or kill anyone. They didn’t need Peter spiralling back into his homicidal state.

Malia then turned to Scott.

“How’d everything go with you? How was lacrosse?”

“It was good. Made the team. We also found Stiles.”

“You found him?” Malia couldn’t suppress the surprise that filled her voice.

“We’ll tell you more about it inside.”

Jackson took two steps at a time as the group made their way up to the loft. Scott following closely behind. If he let Jackson get there first he would surely take credit for finding Stiles. Jackson pulled the door open and Scott slid into the room before him.

Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were all spread about the loft. Derek was nowhere in sight.

“Derek?” Scott called out.

Derek appeared at the top of the spiral staircase, eyebrows raised.

“We found Stiles.” Jackson and Scott said in unison. Jackson gave Scott a lopsided smirk earning himself a glare from Scott.

Derek made his way down the stairs to properly greet the pack.

“So he is a real person and Lydia isn’t going crazy?” Erica played lazily with her nails, running a nail file against the ones she found unsatisfactory, ignoring the looks that were shot at her. “Just saying what we were all thinking at one point or another.” She added as an afterthought.

Derek growled and Erica raised her hands in surrender. Derek turned his attention back to Scott. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but he had doubted their ability to find someone with only a name and a dream to go off of.  

“Did you talk to him?”

“About Lydia’s dream? No. We talked about lacrosse.”

“What would we have said? Hey, my girlfriend had a dream about you and she thinks you’re about to die?”

“Is he a werewolf?”

Scott turned toward Isaac and scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “No, he’s not. He didn’t smell like it. Mostly just like the earth, stress, anxiety, and something else I didn’t quite recognize.”

“So he’s human?”

“I think so.”

“Ew.” Erica’s face scrunched in displeasure.

“You know you were human once, right?” Isaac watched Erica squirm under the comment. Erica recovered quickly, rolled her eyes and shrugged, turning her focus back to her nails.

“Someone tell me why we care what happens to a random human?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, daring someone to give him a good reason why he should care.

“Because I dreamt about him.” Lydia was quiet, drawing the pack’s attention to her. “It has to mean something. The dream. I had to have heard his name for a reason. It has to mean something.”

The room fell silent.

“So what do we do, nephew?”

Derek’s eyes fell on the speaker. Peter had been quiet until now.

The pack looked between Derek and Peter before finally settling their eyes onto Derek.

“I guess we bring him in and talk to him.”

“What, like kidnap him?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Scott raised his hand, slightly, as if he were in a classroom waiting for his turn to speak. Derek gave him a little nod.

“What if we don’t say anything to him- hear me out.” Scott continued on, raising his hands up , palms facing away from his body. “What if we don’t tell him about any of this. Why do we have to drag him into the supernatural? Why don’t we just try to keep him safe while we figure out what Lydia’s dream actually means?”

“Got a little crush now, McCall?”

“Shut up, Jackson. It’s not like that. I just think we should try to avoid telling the world about the supernatural.”

“I just think-”

“Because that’s a good idea.”

Scott clenched and unclenched his fists. He really wanted to punch Jackson right now. Maybe Coach would pair the two of them together at practice and maybe his hand will slip.

Derek was having a good day. A good week, actually.  No one had been chased, kidnapped, or killed. Sure there was the possibility of a complete stranger dying, but his pack was safe.

So when Scott and Jackson sped into the loft, clearly battling one another for first, of whatever they were doing, Derek braced himself for whatever was about to come.

He listened as Jackson and Scott talked, occasionally throwing out his own opinions, and scolded Erica. It was when Scott suggested that they didn’t confront the human, a thought that hadn’t even crossed his mind as a possibility, that Derek knew his good week was over.

The room erupted into chaos, everyone trying to voice their opinion at once. Derek leaned himself against the wall, listening to each argument and thought. Boyd brought up the point that it would be harder to protect someone who didn’t know they needed to be protected in the first place. Erica didn’t think it was fair that Stiles would get to remain oblivious while they saved him from impending doom. Isaac seemed to agree with Scott, thinking it unfair to just drag Stiles into the world of supernatural with no warning and only the threat of death. Malia was leaning to Jackson’s side, agreeing it would be easier to protect Stiles if he knew.

Peter and Lydia were silent. Peter rubbing his forehead as if trying to coax away a headache and Lydia with her lips pursed in her own thought. Sometimes Derek thought she lived in her own little world.

The argueing was beginning to grate on his nerves, they had stopped coming up with actual reasons. He rubbed his forehead before pushing himself off the wall and focusing on his pack.

“Alright. Enough!” Everyone fell silent at Derek’s command.

“We don’t know how much time we have, or if his life is in any actual danger,” He gave Lydia an apologetic look. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he did, but there was a possibility it wasn’t as serious as they thought. It had only sounded like a panic attack to Derek. “but we need to be diligent. We will go with Scott’s idea for now. Befriend him and protect him that way. If anything happens, then we can reevaluate the situation at a later date. I don’t want to accidentally introduce someone to the supernatural that doesn’t need to be there. Good?”

Derek glanced around the room, observing as everyone nodded their agreement. Derek himself nodded before turning to Peter.

“A word, please.”

Peter followed Derek up the spiral stairs. It wasn’t out of hearing reach for werewolf senses but he was hoping his pack had the decency to respect his privacy.

“What do you think?”

Derek had just begun trusting Peter again. After what happened to Laura, he didn’t think he could. However, Peter had proved himself valuable time and time again. Derek had watched him slowly grow closer with his own daughter and packmate, Malia. It had been a bumpy start but Peter had continued to try and prove to Malia he was worth getting to know. As far as he knew Malia never called Peter “dad”, that title seemed to be reserved for her adoptive human father, but Peter didn’t hold it against her.

Derek would have felt bad about the fact that Malia was born to Peter, a once very psychotic power hungry werewolf, and the Desert Wolf, an equally dangerous killer, if it wasn’t for the fact that it all had made Malia an incredibly strong and dangerous asset to the pack.

So here Derek was, conferring with Peter over recent events because he trusted him. That wasn’t to say Peter didn’t still annoy him, freak him out, or piss him off. It just meant he wasn’t expecting Peter to turn around and plant a knife in his back anytime soon.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Yes.” Derek nodded his head down once.

Peter watched Derek for a moment, who in response raised his eyebrows in question.

“I think not telling him is a mistake. What if he goes and gets himself killed? What if he breathes wrong and ends up choking on his own tongue? Here’s another thing, why should we care?”

Peter crossed his arms and shook his head before continuing.

“You are putting a lot of faith into those kids down there.”

“One of those kids is the reason we’re doing this in the first place. The pack is family, and we put our faith and trust into family.”

“Point taken.”

There was a moment of silence before Derek found the courage to ask Peter another question.

“What do you think he is?”

“Well we know he isn’t a werewolf. Maybe he is another banshee?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what do you think, Derek?” Peter asked in exasperation.

“I was asking you for a reason, you know. Not because I like listening to you talk.”

“That hurt, nephew. Really hurt. I have a silky, sultry voice. I grace you with it and you insult me.”

Derek scoffed. Peter’s voice fell into a more serious tone.

“Does it worry you that you don’t know what you are up against?”

“It worries me that there is a possible human involved.”

“Ah. When it comes to humans, we do have a rough streak painting our history red.”

Derek flinched inwardly.

“Maybe it’s time to break that streak.” Derek mumbled.

“Tell me what you are thinking, Derek. Tell me what your wolf says.”

“Trust Lydia. Protect the human. Protect the pack.”

“Protect the human?”

Derek didn’t trust Peter’s tone.

“Peter.”

“You could bite him.”

“Peter.”

“It’s a serious option. Bite him, he turns, problem solved.”

“Or he dies during the transition. What if he is a banshee like you think? Then nothing happens and we are back to square one. We don’t know this kid. We don’t know who he is. Scott’s idea isn’t a bad one.”

“Just a risky one.”

Derek sighed. “No matter what we do, there is a risk. I don’t think freaking the kid out is the best plan.”

“At least it’s somewhat entertaining.”

Derek glared at Peter.

“Oh come on, Derek. You don’t think it would be funny? Not even a little bit?”

Derek continued to glare.

“Fine. Suit yourself. Not much I can do to help then.”

“Actually,”

Peter’s shoulders slumped.

“You can watch his residence at night.”

“Have one of the kids do it.”

“They have school, Peter.”

“Fine.” Through gritted teeth Peter managed the one word.

“When Scott figures out where he lives, I’ll let you know.”

“Great.” Then added, “This is quite a situation you’ve gotten yourself into, Derek.”

Derek raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You have a pack full of self-esteem deprived werewolf adolescents, a banshee dreaming of impending doom, and a mystery teenager we know nothing about.”

“Your point?”

Peter just smiles before turning and heading back down the stairs.

Derek’s eyebrows scrunch together in thought before cursing Peter under his breath and heading downstairs to where the rest of the pack awaited him.

Scott watched as Peter followed Derek up the stairs of the loft. He was smiling. Derek had agreed to go with his idea.

He sat himself on a nearby chair. Erica and Boyd had taken over the couch, Erica being stretched across the length of it. Malia was laying on the hard floor, hands tucked behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Isaac hovered nearby against a wall staring out the windows on the far side. Jackson sat, on a matching chair to Scott’s, with Lydia on his lap. Jackson’s face was tucked into Lydia’s neck listening to her as she hummed.

Isaac broke the silence.

“Should I call Allison?”

Scott’s heart ached a little at the mention of her name. They had long since broken up but a part of him still loved her. He would probably always love her, it just wasn’t the same. He was actually glad to see Isaac and Allison getting along so well. They both deserved to be happy. It had taken him a while to admit it. He could recall throwing Isaac into the wall quite a few times for it.

Scott shrugged but it was Erica who responded verbally.

“It doesn’t matter if you two are hooking up or banging each other. This is pack business. There is nothing she could do to help anyway.”

Isaac deflated slightly and turned to Scott, seeking his opinion.

“Not yet.” He agreed with Erica. They didn’t know what was going on, and if they got Allison involved by default her father would get involved. It wasn’t that Scott didn’t like Chris Argent, he did, it was that he couldn’t trust that their duty as Hunters wouldn’t overpower their loyalty to the pack.

Isaac nodded and planted himself back against the wall.

Scott got bored quickly. He couldn’t help but wonder what Derek and Peter were talking about. He glanced around the room at his fellow pack members before he tilted his head upward and leaned forward.

He caught the end of Peter’s rant. The words, “Why should we care?”

Scott bristled at the evident disregard for life that was clear in Peter’s voice. Scott continued to listen in, his concentration only breaking when Lydia noticed what he was doing.

“What are they talking about?” She asked.

“Derek want’s to know what Peter thinks.”

“And what does he think?”

“That Derek is crazy for putting so much faith in us.”

Lydia scoffed, no longer interested in the conversation going on above. The other wolves, following Scott’s lead, tilted their heads and listened in. Jackson quietly relayed the conversation to Lydia.

Scott listened. He nodded occasionally when he agreed with or understood what was being said. He cringed when Peter suggested the bite. Relieve flooded him when Derek shut down the idea. His eyebrows scrunched together in question when Peter remained silent after Derek’s “Your point?” Had Peter whispered or just not answered?

The sound of feet hitting the stairs snapped the younger pack members from their group eavesdropping session. Scott looked up to see Peter sauntering his way down the stairs. Peter stopped at the bottom and stared at the pack with a scrutinizing look. Scott wondered if there was anyway to tell that they had been snooping into Derek and Peter’s conversation.

He shifted in his seat, rubbing his hands together before coughing. He looked away from Peter and to the other members of his pack. Jackson and Lydia were leaning close together whispering about something, Malia was still on the floor, Isaac was staring at his phone, and Erica and Boyd lay on the couch with their eyes closed. Scott looked the most suspicious. He gave Peter a weak smile before pulling out his phone just to make appear to look like he was doing something.

Derek followed down the stairs shortly after Peter. He looked less sceptical and suspicious of the group. They concluded the pack meeting and Scott took his leave, Isaac right on his heels.

“Do you trust Peter?”

Scott turned around to face Isaac, glancing back at the loft as he did so.

“I trust Derek.” He finally said.

“And Derek trusts Peter.”

Scott nodded.

“Do you trust Derek?”

Isaac hesitated before nodding.

“Do you trust me?” Scott asked. He knew Isaac had trust issues, it was what made him easy to recruit to the pack. Isaac didn’t hesitated when he nodded this time.

“Derek knows what he is doing.”

Scott rested his hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“A pack has to be able to trust one another.”

Isaac nodded before adding. “I don’t like him though.”

Scott gave Isaac’s shoulder a little squeeze before letting go and walking toward his bike.

“You don’t have to.”

“Some people are natural beacons for the supernatural world. Beings are drawn to them. Often driven to posses, kill, or please them.”

“And you think Stiles could be one of those beings?”

“It’s not impossible.”

“But Stiles is human.”

“Being of the human or supernatural world has nothing to do with becoming a beacon. It’s the being itself that attracts it.”

Scott had decided to stop by the animal clinic on his way home. He hadn’t actually expected Deaton to be there but he had caught Deaton as he was leaving. Deaton let Scott follow him back inside and Scott filled the veterinarian in about Lydia’s dream and how they found Stiles.

“It is quite intriguing though.” Deaton was flipping through pages of a really old book.

“What is?”

“The possibility of Stiles being a beacon of sorts. I wonder…”

“What? What do you wonder?”

“If Stiles has come into contact with the Nemeton.”

“What would that do?”

“I don’t know for sure. It could be an explanation to how Lydia was able to dream about him. It would also make a good emissary out of him if he were willing to learn.”

“An emissary? Like you?”

“Like me, but not exactly. You get the gist of it.”

“Could he be a druid?”

“Not likely. Odds are that Stiles is just a human. So what do you plan to do, Scott?”

“Keep him safe without letting on that’s what I’m doing.”

“Do you plan to be attached to him at the hip at all times of the day?”

“No-”

“Then how do you expect to be able to protect him?”

“I’ll find a way.”

Deaton smiled fondly at Scott, small wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. He folded the book in his hands closed and rested it on the counter before turning back to Scott.

“It’s that attitude that makes me believe you have the potential to become a true Alpha, Scott.”  

Scott’s face flushed a light shade of red.

“I’m fine with being a Beta.”

“But it may not be your destiny.”

Chapter Text

Stiles found himself easily adjusted to the semester of classes followed by lacrosse practice. It had only been a couple days, but Stiles was sure his luck was turning around. Scott had grown on him. Surprisingly, Scott liked to talk, almost as much as Stiles. When Scott found a topic he liked or had a good day, he talked, and talked. Stiles was a happy participant in the conversations, it was nice to have someone to listen to and talk to.

He found himself among company more often than not during the duration of the week. Scott had even decided to introduce him to a few of his friends. He knew Jackson and Isaac of course, though he had never really spoken to the latter. Scott also introduced him to the stunning redhead, Lydia, and the slightly intimidating short-haired brunette, Malia.

They had gone to lunch, off campus, to a little cafe close to the college.

“Boyd and Erica couldn’t make it today, but I’d like you to meet them too. They’re pretty cool. Oh, and Alisson. Her and Isaac are kind of a thing now, I guess.” Scott almost sounded hurt by the thought, but he recovered quickly. He started talking about the rest of his group.

Stiles nodded. He wasn’t sure why he felt so weird about meeting Scott’s friends. Stiles wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was a little jealous of how well known Scott was.  Did friends usually introduce new friends to their older friends? Stiles told himself he was overthinking the entire thing.

They finally reached the cafe and Scott fell silent. He probably realized that Stiles had stopped responding.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

They entered the cafe. Scott immediately spotted his group and waved. Stiles dutifully followed him over, his hands tucked inside of his front pockets. He gave a small smile in response to Scott’s introduction.

“Guys, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Lydia and Malia. You already know Jackson and Isaac.”

Lydia who had been leaning on Jackson seemed to straighten at the introduction. Malia didn’t even smile. Her eyebrow seemed to quirk upward accusingly.

Stiles felt scrutinized and under inspection. Jackson and Scott were the only ones who seemed unconcerned by his presence.

Stiles and Scott took their seats at the table after pulling over a couple chairs from an unused table nearby. There was an awkward silence. Stiles was finding it harder to stay still. He felt the urge to move around or do something with his hands. It was Lydia who broke the silence.

“So, Stiles. What are you majoring in?”

A steady flow of conversation came after that. Stiles would occasionally catch one of them studying him like a puzzle, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Overall, Stiles didn’t mind the group.

Lydia was relatively quiet, making sure not to give too much about herself away. He found out that Lydia wasn’t actually a student there, but liked to use their library because it was close to home. She was attending a nearby four-year university. Stiles could tell she was very intelligent. He figured that if she tried, she probably would have gotten into Stanford without any trouble.

Everyone else went to school with Stiles.

Malia was less intimidating when he realized she didn’t understand a lot of societal ideals. She laughed honestly at his jokes and asked strange questions when she didn’t understand. He had been taken aback at first but explained everything without teasing her. He didn’t ask any questions, just smiled when she understood.

Jackson was still an asshole, but he didn’t treat Stiles any different than at practice. Which was appreciated.

Isaac was unsure about new people. He had the tell-tale signs of someone who had been abused in some way. Stiles had seen it before in kids his father had interviewed or removed from bad homes. Stiles didn’t say anything about it or push him to talk. Isaac didn’t seem to trust Stiles anyway, at least not at first, and it took a while before he said anything. Apparently he and Isaac had had a class together last semester. Stiles hadn’t remembered him until he mentioned the class, and he was pretty sure Isaac didn’t remember him at all.

“You sat by the exit.” Stiles recalled. When Isaac seemed a bit uncomfortable with the little fact Stiles was quick to add, “I have a good memory. Besides, I sat like- three rows behind you.”

Isaac just nodded and Stiles shifted the conversation to his other classes that semester.

“What are you studying for?” Malia asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Nothing in particular. My goal was law enforcement but it’s nice to have a fall back plan.”

“Law enforcement? You want to be a cop?”

Stiles shrugged. “I like helping people.”

“Goody-two-shoes.” Mumbled Jackson.

Stiles’ lips twitch up mischievously. “You’d be surprised.”

Jackson’s face scrunched up. “What does that mean?”

Stiles gave a half shrug and changed the focus of the conversation off of himself. There was only so much he was willing to divulge to strangers.

“What about you, Scott?”

“Majoring Biology. I want to study veterinary science. I work part-time at an animal clinic in town.”

Scott was relatively talkative, trying to keep the conversation going and to keep Stiles involved. After talking about their classes and desired areas of study; Jackson, Isaac, Scott, and Stiles spoke about lacrosse for a while.

Stiles caught Lydia studying him again. Normally he wouldn’t mind being watched by an attractive person, but the looks weren’t that of admiration or attraction. He shifted uncomfortably under the attention. She seemed to have realized she had been staring and redirected her attention to Malia. Soon they were having two different conversations. Eventually Malia, intrigued by something Stiles had said about lacrosse, started asking questions.

“Why don’t you just tackle them when they aren’t paying attention?”

“It’s not football. Besides, body checking is against the rules in most games. Lacrosse is a contact team sport but there are rules against hitting other players in certain ways. So not many people get hurt.”

“Oh. What’s the point of it then?”

“What’s the point of the sport?”

Malia nodded. Stiles was at a loss for words for about five seconds before his brain caught up.

“Well, Lacrosse was originally a bunch of stick-ball sports played by American Indians. It’s different from other field sports because of the netted racquet that is used to scoop the ball off the ground. There isn’t a lot of early data about the sport so it’s hard to determine the actual reason for, although I’m quite sure it was just for entertainment, or the evolution of the game.”

Stiles had been watching Malia as he spoke to her. He glanced at Scott, who was staring at him wide-eyed with a goofy smile.

“What?”

“Dude, how many random facts do you have in that brain.”

Stiles shrugged. He spent a lot of his time on his laptop learning random things to help pass the time and to placate his ADHD ridden mind.

His brain was overworking itself at that exact moment. He didn’t even really know these people and he had launched into a small rant. This sort of thing was what had chased away people in the past.

Stiles leaned back against the chair and listened to the group speak for a while. He even picked up a few things that weren’t out right said. Isaac apparently lived with Scott. Jackson and Lydia were a thing, had been since high school. Malia seemed to be one of the newest members of the tight-knit group.

The conversation slowed and after some time they all walked back to the college campus together. Most of the group split off after that. Scott elected to walk with Stiles to his next class, he apparently had a free period.

“I hope that wasn’t overwhelming or anything.”

Stiles shook his head.

“No, it was nice. It was nice to meet them.”

“Erica and Boyd would have been there if they could have been.”

Stiles nodded. He wasn’t going to say it to Scott, but he was glad they didn’t make it. It wasn’t anything against them. Stiles hadn’t felt overwhelmed with the introduction of Lydia and Malia, that was true, but he didn’t know how he would have fared with the addition of two more people.

Stiles had gotten the feeling that Scott and his group of friends were closer than they liked to portray. He had glimpsed one leaning into another subconsciously. The thought slipped out of his mouth before he could do anything about it.

“You guys aren’t like an orgy cult or something right?”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he caught Scott’s expression.

“I didn’t mean anything bad about it- I was just-”

Stiles was cut off by Scott’s laughter.

When he didn’t stop Stiles shifted uneasily.

“It’s not that funny.”

Scott wiped a tear from under his eyes and struggled to contain himself.

“Sorry. Sorry. I just- that was one of the funniest things I have been asked. Why did you even think that?”

Stiles’ lips itched to smile with Scott, instead he just ran his hands down his face.

“May have been one of the most embarrassing things I’ve asked.”

That didn’t help the situation. Scott who had managed his laughter down to a snicker lost all control.

Stiles shook his head and began walking away.

“See you around, Scotty!” He left Scott laughing to himself.

It hit Stiles when he entered his class that he had given Scott a nickname. He had called him Scotty. He ran his hands down his face for the second time that day and lay his head against the table. The professor walked in seven minutes late and Stiles did his best to focus.

Stiles successfully avoided Scott after class. He sat in the driver's seat of his jeep tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t know why he was hiding. He had a good time at lunch with Scott’s group, and then he had accidentally given Scott a nickname. Did that mean they were friends? When had they gone from just teammates to friends? He had a friend. He was also avoiding his friend. Stiles smacked his head against the steering wheel. The sudden blaring of his horn made him sit straight up in surprise.

“Hey.”

Stiles’ attention snapped to the person standing outside of his car.

“Hey, Danny.”

Stiles watched Danny move out of his way as he exited the jeep.

“You hiding from someone?” Danny joked.

“Something like that.”

“You have class soon?”

Stiles checked the time on his phone.

“Not for another hour. What’s up?”

“Cool. You want to help me out with something?”

“Sure.”

Stiles followed Danny to one of the many college computer labs.

“You remember everything I taught you in highschool, right?”

“Yeah. Kind of hard to forget it when I’m constantly using it.”

Danny’s lips twitched up in a smile.

“So, I’m running a bit behind schedule with my client requests. I have to do a phone recovery, two email recoveries, a footage recovery, and-”

“I get it. I’m here to help. Put me to work.”

Danny did a quick recap on how he liked to do things and left Stiles to deal with the footage while he worked on the phone. Stiles had agreed to his privacy term, even signed an actual document for it and all. Stiles fiddled with the camera for a moment, the device looked relatively unharmed. However, when he slid the battery compartment open drops of water hit his leg. He sighed. Did people not know that all cameras were not, in fact, waterproof?

Stiles did his best to make sure the rest of the camera was dry while he checked the SD card. He went down the list checking for disk errors before running a command prompt and booting up a recovery program.

Stiles enjoyed work like this. It drew in his focus and kept him from thinking about anything else. His hands moved across the keyboard as he worked, the steady strumming of Danny typing echoing his own. They worked side by side in silence for a good forty-five minutes. Stiles leaned back in the computer chair, arms resting behind his head.

“Hey, Danny?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re friends, right?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled to himself.

“Your subscription to my friendship runs out in a couple days though. You should pay the fifteen-dollar subscription fee soon if you are satisfied with the product.”

Stiles let out a laugh and half-heartedly punched Danny in the arm.

“Quick question.”

Danny raised an eyebrow and turned to Stiles.

“Why did you drag me to lacrosse try-outs?”

Danny actually gave it some thought. The question hadn’t really surprised him as far as Stiles could tell.

“You were good in high school.”

Stiles gave him a look.

“I’m serious. Do you remember the game where Coach swapped you and Greenberg out?”

“I remember him saying it was because, and I quote, ‘sucked a little less’.”

“Yeah but then you scored. And scored again. You scored like three more times after that. You won that game for us.”

Stiles nods. He remembered that night clearly. His dad had been at the game, cheering for Stiles the entire time.

“You’re good for the team.”

Stiles smiled brightly at Danny.

“You still sure you aren’t attracted to me, Danny?”

“Not my type.”

“Right.”

Stiles dragged the word out teasingly.

Before the hour was up, Danny had managed to make progress on the phone while Stiles had recovered the footage and one of the requested emails.

He didn’t see why the footage was so important. It had been shot at night and had pretty shitty lighting. The full moon had been the only source of light. The forest around the person behind the camera was eerie and bland. There was a howl in the background that made the camera person jump and shake the camera. They were walking through the woods before finally breaking through the growth to a clearing. It was a party in the woods. Drunk kids were dancing around a bonfire and making noise.

Stiles didn’t bother watching any further. He had done his job and recovered the video. He handed it over to Danny as the two of the exited the computer lab.

“Thanks for your help, Stiles.”

“Any time.” Stiles meant it. It had been a relaxing hour. He hadn’t thought about Scott, or lacrosse practice, or going home to an empty house.

He walked as far as he could with Danny before splitting off and heading to his last class of the day.

“I’ll see you at practice!”

Danny gave him a wave in return before turning away.

Stiles went through his last class in a happy daze. Spending sometime with Danny had helped him process Scott’s friendship. He had friends. He sounded like a child. Stiles had to put an extra effort into focusing since he was having trouble sitting still and listening to the professor talk. He needed to be doing something with his hands.

He greeted Scott happily at lacrosse practice. Stiles even found it in himself to greet Jackson, who grunted and rolled his eyes in response, and Isaac, who gave him a small wave in return.

Danny’s reminder of the game Stiles had won for the team in high school revitalized his love for the sport. He earned himself a compliment from Finstock.

“Don’t expect much from him, Coach. Chances are he will be back to his disappointing self at next practice.”

“Don’t be jealous, Jackson.”

“I’m not.”

Stiles just smiled. It was a good day.

“I think Stilinski is broken.”

Stiles face fell into a playful frown.

“Shut up, Whittemore.”

Stiles made a mental note to check his ADHD medicine just incase his mood was from an imbalance.

Practice flew by. Stiles was breathing heavy by the end of it, like he always was. Scott lay next to him on the ground, tired but breathing relatively normal.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Could I ask a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“Can I get a ride home?”

Stiles turned to look at Scott.

“Yeah, man.”

“Thanks.”

“What happened to your bike? I don’t have a problem driving you or anything, I’m just curious.”

“I slid off the road. It ended up in the trees somewhere. I have to get some money together to get it fixed up.”

“Are you okay? I didn’t even notice anything had happened. Should you even be at practice after an accident?” Stiles sat up, followed by Scott.

“I barely got a scratch. My bike took most of the damage.”

“I’ll give you a ride for as long as you need, man.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

With that, the two of them gathered their things and Scott followed Stiles to his jeep.

“You can just toss your bag into the back.” Stiles said as he tossed his own onto the floor of the back.

Scott nodded before he followed suit, tossing his stuff onto the back seat.

Stiles followed Scott’s directions to his house. He was familiar with the entire area, having grown up here, so he already had a general idea of which direction to go when Scott told him his address.

“Dude, you live basically down the street from me.” Stiles commented as he pulled into Scott’s driveway.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Scott’s face lit up with the realization.

“I don’t mind driving you home for the rest of the week if you need it.” Stiles offered.

Scott nodded at the offer. “That would be great.”

Stiles gave Scott a little wave as Scott made his way to the front door of his house. Stiles pulled out of the driveway and headed home. It was only a few minutes down the road but Stiles felt more exhausted right at that moment than he had all day so the drive felt longer.

He parked his jeep and climbed tiredly out of the car. After dragging his feet through the front door, Stiles collapsed face first onto the couch. He groaned and shifted as he pulled the tv remote out from under him. He tossed it onto the nearby coffee table, flinching at the noise it made.

Someone nudged his foot.

“Stiles. Come on, bud. I got you a bed for a reason.”

“Too far.” Stiles mumbled into the couch cushion. He hadn’t expected his dad to be home so soon.

“Did you eat anything?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’ll whip us up something real quick while you go take a shower. You stink.”

His dad had said it in a loving manner but at the comment Stiles pushed himself up off the couch and toward his dad.

“I wanna give you a hug.” Stiles said, his arms open, as he approached his dad. “To show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Oh no. Don’t you even think about it. Show your appreciation by going and taking a shower.”

Nothing could deter Stiles when he set him mind to something. He cornered his dad and gave him a stinky hug. His dad didn’t try to push him away even though he continued to complain.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” Stiles let his dad go and skipped up the stairs to go take a shower. He gave himself a sniff and pulled away, making a face. He definitely needed a shower.

Chapter Text

It was burning hot. The sun was still high in the sky, no clouds in sight. The weather itself wouldn’t have been too bad had it not been for all the running and exercise Coach had them doing.

Stiles’ hands rested on his hips as he panted heavily. His eyes scanned the field, Scott was just finishing his final lap followed by angry-face, also known as Jackson, and Coach was busy yelling at Greenburg. That left Stiles with a few minutes to catch his breath.

A lone figure squatting close to the ground with some attractive tech in his hands caught Stiles’ attention. Stiles glanced back at Coach before jogging over to where the camera wielding person was. As Stiles got closer he recognized the short brown fluffy hair that sat atop the college student’s head.

“Hey, Matt. Whatcha up to?” Stiles slid to the ground exhausted. Lacrosse practice was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. He was beginning to really regret sticking around. The long practice hours after his daily classes really made it difficult for him to find time for anything else.

“Taking a couple practice shots.” Matt Daehler had his camera pointed at the lacrosse team as they practiced. Stiles watched as Matt’s finger eased onto a button and listened as the shutter clicked.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing with them?”

“Taking a break.” Came Stiles’ quick reply. “Can I see?”

Matt hesitated before nodding. He lowered his camera from his face and clicked a few buttons. The pictures he had taken quickly popped up and he handed his camera over to Stiles who carefully took it, a smile plastered to his face. Stiles scrolled through, appreciating each movement the photos captured.

“Dude, these are really good.”

Stiles continued to scroll through, stopping at a picture of Scott. Stiles glanced quickly at Matt before turning back to the camera in his hands.

“Hey, what’s up with this?”

Matt leaned over to look at the picture Stiles was talking about.

“Some version of red-eye, I guess. Could just be random flares off the lens. I’ll just delete them later.”

Stiles continued to scroll stopping again at a picture of Jackson and Isaac. His brows furrowed slightly at the odd flare in the photo. It had been the same with Scott. When Matt’s attention was briefly directed else where, Stiles pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the two photographs.

Stiles then continued to scroll through the photos, appreciating the quality of the photos while simultaneously searching for more flares. He didn’t find anymore, however he did notice something else in the occasional photo. It seemed as if Scott, Jackson, and Isaac were watching him. In one of the photos he was on his backside, having just been tackled to the ground, and in the background Isaac had an arm, muscles strained, wrapped around Scott’s shoulders keeping him from running toward Stiles. In another, during the partner exercises, Scott and Jackson’s eyes were once again on Stiles while he practiced with Greenburg.

“Stilinski! Get your lazy butt back on the field before I assign you to the bench.” Coach Finstock’s voice snapped Stiles out of his curiosity. He carefully handed Matt his camera back with a meek smile before standing.

“Thanks man, for letting me look. You’ve gotten a lot better since high school.” Stiles gave Matt a small smile and wave before running/stumbling back onto the field.

Finstock continued to drill Stiles harder than anyone else for the rest of practice. When Finstock called the end of practice, Stiles found himself collapsing onto the ground in relief. He was already covered in dirt and sweat so it didn’t really matter to him if he got a little more dirt on himself. The moment of relaxation was short lived.

“Stilinski! You have another half hour. Practice your tosses or something.”

Stiles groaned into the dirt and grass.

“Coach, I’ll stay to make sure he doesn’t slack off.”

Stiles lifted his head off the ground in surprise before squinting his eyes in suspicion.

“Thank you, Jackson. I’ll keep that in mind for when I pick the team captain”

Stiles watched Jackson’s face twist from a smile to a smirk as Coach placed his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, squeezing it in approval, before walking away.

Stiles rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, squinting his eyes against the sun. A shadow fell over him and Stiles opened his eyes fully.

“Having fun down there?”

“Sure. Only staving off the impending doom of hurricane Whittemore.”

Scott’s smile could challenge the sun in a competition of brightness. Stiles had noticed that Scott was almost always smiling. Stiles had only ever really seen Scott scowl or get upset when he was around Jackson. In general though, Scott was always positive about everything. It simultaneously irritated Stiles and made Stiles happy.  

Stiles honestly liked Scott. He laughed at Stiles’ lame jokes, listened to him rant and complain during lacrosse practice; it was nice to be able to talk to someone. They talked during practice, occasionally met up after classes, and get together to grab a bite when they were both hungry. Despite having only really been talking to each other for a week, Scott himself had even opened up to Stiles a bit, telling him about his mom, Melissa, who worked as a nurse at the local hospital.

Scott reached down, offering Stiles his hand. Stiles begrudgingly took it and let Scott pull him to his feet. He dusted himself off and nodded his thanks to Scott who smiled in return.

“How is the work on your bike going?” Stiles asked quickly when he remembered he had offered Scott a ride anytime while it was still being repaired. He had been giving Scott a ride home since last week.

“Not great. I have a ride though. I’m supposed to go to a meeting later.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Stiles was only a little bit curious as to who Scott was getting a ride from.

“Let’s go, Stilinski.”

Stiles sighed and began heading toward Jackson, his lacrosse stick in hand.

When Stiles reached Jackson he glanced over at Scott, who hesitated before turning and leaving the field. Stiles was trying really hard not to pay attention to whose car pulled up to the curb where Scott was standing.

A ball came flying out of nowhere, smacking Stiles in the gut.

“Focus, Stilinski.”

Stiles groaned and cursed Jackson under his breath.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one tossing the ball?” He finally asked when he straightened himself from his hunched over position. It wasn’t really a question. They had both heard Coach.

Jackson tossed another ball at Stiles, who ducked out of the way.

“At least try to catch it! How did you even make the team?” Stiles could already tell that Jackson was getting irritated. He wondered how mad Jackson was going to be by the end of their little practice session. Not many people could handle Stiles alone for extended periods of time.

Stiles despised Jackson’s smug look. It took him a couple minutes but Stiles finally began taking the extra practice seriously. He stopped dodging the ball and began catching and throwing it back.

Jackson had him practice ground ball pick ups, cradling the ball, the drill (switching catching and throwing with his left and right hand), dodging, and tackling. Although he could dodge Jackson charging at him, Stiles failed at knocking Jackson back hard enough to hit the ground. Stiles had made a comment about it having to be supernatural strength or steroids. He then proceeded to lecture Jackson on how steroids weren’t good for him. The entire thing had earned Stiles a tackled to the ground. He landed on his backside with a groan. Jackson’s laughter had Stiles forcing himself to get up and recover quickly. Had this been during regular practice Stiles would have probably just layed on the ground for an extended period of time.

Stiles peeled himself off the ground and caught the ball that was flung his way. They carried on like that for a while longer.

Jackson did give him a few good pointers, although Stiles wouldn’t outwardly tell him.

“Don’t coast, Stiles. Go as hard as you can, you aren’t going to hurt me.”

Stiles, despite being exhausted, pushed himself harder. He knew he could become a good lacrosse player, it was just that half the time he was too lazy to put in the effort.

“No bad for a hu-” Jackson stopped himself mid sentence and Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Not bad, for a what?” Stiles was almost sure Jackson was about to say human. Or- Nope. That was the only word he could think of. Unless Jackson wanted to call him hummus or hulk, and those he seriously doubted.

“Huge idiot.” Jackson responded, a small smirk tugging at the top of his lip. Stiles scowled.

Jackson worked Stiles to the bone for a full hour.

Stiles was actually almost grateful by the end of it, albeit a bit sore and hungry.

Jackson was the one who called an end to the practice. He had glanced from the sky to his watch and called it quits.

“That’s enough. I’m heading home.”

Stiles hunched over his knees panting. He raised a hand in goodbye when Jackson passed by him.

“Alright. I’ll-” Stiles took a deep breath. “Just be here.” Stiles huffed out the words to himself.

He felt like he had made progress, although he could have done without all the yelling and rude comments about his form. This was the most exercise and lacrosse practice he had done in a while. Stiles was pretty sure he would be sore and bruised for the next couple days.

A few moments later Stiles forced himself to stand up straight. He gathered his things and shoved them into his gym bag. With his bag slung over his shoulder, and lacrosse stick in his hand, Stiles made his way toward the empty parking lot where his lone jeep sat in the dark.

He shot his dad a quick text letting him know he was on his way home and started the jeep. The engine purred alive, Stiles considered it purring with all the other noises his jeep tended to make when he turned the ignition, and Stiles shifted gears.

The drive home was slow. Stiles was easily annoyed by it. His mind was trying to process a million thoughts at once, most of which didn’t currently make sense to him. It took all his concentration not to speed down the road. He tapped his fingers against the jeep’s steering wheel while he drove. At a red light he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and bounced his knee up and down.

His dad was already home when Stiles pulled into the driveway. He left his gym bag in the back of the jeep and carried his school bag with him to the house. The smell of dinner wafted to his senses and he hummed with pleasure as he walked through the front door.

“Dad, I’m home.”

“Hey, kid. You’re late.”

Stiles dropped his bag in the living room and followed his dad’s voice into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I stayed a little late for lacrosse practice.”

Stiles folded his hands together, fiddling with his fingers. He sat himself on top of a nearby counter and watched his dad move around the kitchen with ease.

“Yeah? How in the hell did they get you to even agree to play? I can barely get you to do the dishes. Stiles get off the counter, that’s unsanitary.”

Stiles stayed planted where he was, not to spite his dad but rather to cause mild irritation. Besides, he was comfortable.

“Funny, dad. You’re hilarious. Danny kind of dragged my butt to tryouts. I decided to stick around when I made the team.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could of had a celebratory dinner out or something.”

Stiles shrugged.

“You’ve been busy and I didn’t want to add to the plate. Besides, I’m not going to let you use me getting onto the lacrosse team to feed your unhealthy habits of fast food.”

His dad scoffed at him. “Stiles, that is good news. Only bad news adds to the plate. Even if it was bad news, I would want you to tell me. Understand?”

Stiles nodded, then switched the subject.

“So what’s for dinner?”

“Salad and grilled chicken.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and then come back down.”

“Alright. Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you, bud.”

Stiles smiled, looked down at his feet and looked back up at his dad.

“Thanks, dad.”

Stiles took the stairs two at a time and tossed his shirt off as he entered his room. It landed on a pile of clothes already gathered onto the floor. He would have to do laundry soon. He shifted through his clean clothes for a minute, searching for a new shirt and some sweats.

For an unexplainable reason Stiles found himself drawn to the window. He stared down at the street and nearby trees. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the odd sensation of being watched followed him around the room. He shook the feeling off and took a quick shower before meeting his dad downstairs for dinner.

When Stiles finally made it back to his room after dinner and spending time with his dad, he was exhausted. He looked from his desk, where his laptop sat, to his bed. The regular internal debate over staying up or trying another attempt at sleep happened in a matter of seconds. The laptop won.

He planted himself in his computer chair and booted the laptop on. Within a few moments he was on the web searching different types of lens flares. His phone in one hand, open to the pictures, as a reference to what he was seeing on the web.

From what he gathered, lens flares only occurred when pointed at a light source. Then there was the red-eye effect that sometimes occurred in photos but that was nothing like the photos Matt had taken. Stiles was on page twenty-eight in a google search, there had been over three-million results, when an image caught his attention.

It wasn’t a photograph, but rather a realistic drawing. Or- Stiles did a double take. It wasn’t a realistic drawing. It was a photograph taken in the late eighteen-hundreds or early nineteen-hundreds. An image taken by a Kodak camera, one of the first.

Stiles got sidetracked. The image was so old, and his brain craved new and random knowledge. While the first camera was invented/envisioned in sixteen-eighty-five it wasn’t until about one-hundred-fifty years later that the first photograph was taken. It was a very simple box camera but Stiles lost himself in the history and science behind it. He spent another half hour searching for it’s schematics and an explanation for how light may affect an image taken by the camera.

Without much luck he turned back to the image he had found, once again comparing it to the picture sitting in his phone. The flare was the same. That much Stiles had decided.

The eyes of the photograph seemed to generate their own light, producing the same flare it would if the camera had been pointed at the sun. The man in the photo wore a finely pressed wool suit, a waistcoat visible underneath, and a newsboy cap. Stiles figured the man in the photo couldn’t be older than twenty-two. The image itself was posted on a supernatural lore site, he had traced it back to its original source.

He had never appreciated Danny tutoring him in code, he had asked Danny during high school one year when he decided to hack the police radio, more than he did

Stiles had never fully appreciated Danny tutoring him in code more than he did now. The fact that Danny had also dragged Stiles into helping him out the other day was a bonus. Stiles hadn’t used the skills Danny taught him much during high school. He used it more during college but even he knew he needed more practice to be as good as Danny. 

Stiles had read numerous conspiracy journals before. He had quickly learned how to separate complete bullshit from something plausible. This one was almost too close to tell.

He read the introduction. The author claimed to be descendants of the Largent’s, a French family.  The Author made a note about their own last name, which had changed over time. Stiles had come up with several theories. During their move someone may have misheard and misspelled it, maybe they wanted to get away from their past, or maybe they were spies. Either way, according to the author, the Argents had a history that was impossible to erase with a simple letter removal.

Stiles read/skimmed through every piece of information on the site. There wasn’t anything recent, the last post was from four years ago.Stiles wondered what happened to the Author four years ago that made them stop. His thoughts went dark and he imagined the Author dead, maybe buried underground with his throat slashed open by one of the creatures he wrote about. The more reasonable side of his mind just assumed the Author had better things to do with their time than writing something Stiles didn’t think was even meant for the public.

The entire site was all very vague. One of the very first posts explained the existence of numerous supernatural creatures. Another described, again very vaguely, the role in history the Largent (later, the Argent) family played. The next few Stiles didn’t even bother to look at. When the first supernatural creature was described, Stiles took his time. He read the article then compared what the Author describe with what more commonly viewed supernatural sights said about the creature. There were some parallels and other very important differences.

Stiles lost track of time, something he did very often. He leaned back in his chair and glanced toward his window before resting his head against the back of his chair and stared up at the ceiling. His leg moved the chair subconsciously, swaying him back and forth. He closed his eyes and mulled over the information he just learned.

Things were slowly beginning to click into place. Beacon Hills would forever be changed in his mind. He had so many more questions. So many more things he wanted to research. Stiles lifted his head off the chair and turned back to his laptop, ready to dig deeper into the mysteries forming in his mind.

He took one glance at the time, slid his hands away from the keyboard, and dropped his head onto his desk, groaning. It was four in the morning and Stiles had to be up in a couple hours for class. He lifted his head and banged it repeatedly, and quietly, against his desk.

Finally, Stiles lifted his head off the table and closed his laptop. He pushed his chair away and flopped onto his bed, barely gracing the floor with his feet. He kicked the chair away slightly and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered what he would dream about tonight. Would his mind betray him, or would it let him sleep without interruption?

He sighed and turned his head up toward the window. The moon glowed brightly through the blinds covering his window. Stiles pushed himself off his bed and sauntered toward the window. With two fingers he propped the blinds open. His eyes easily found the moon. A waxing gibbous stared back at Stiles. The full moon was in a couple of days.

For the second time that night, something drew Stiles’ eyes toward the darkness. His eyes scanned back and forth. They didn’t land on anything in particular, just wandered toward the tree line and down the street. Nothing. Stiles sighed and settled back into his bed. He was probably just going crazy.

“Derek, please.”

Peter groaned and glanced back up at the window. It was the only room in the house with a light on. It was a pale glow, and Peter assumed it was a laptop screen. It was two in the morning and Peter was exhausted.

He had been there since nine. He had been there when the police cruiser pulled into the driveway and parked next the the jeep. The sheriff stepped out of the car and Peter cursed to himself. This kid was the son of the sheriff, and that complicated things.

“I don’t see the point in this. It’s not like he will drop dead if I get one night’s good sleep.” Peter said now.

“Peter.”

“This kid does nothing but eat, sleep, talk, and play on his computer. He mumbled to himself. I’m not so sure I even want to know what that’s about.”

Peter swore he could hear the smile on Derek’s face when he responded.

“It’s a precaution. Lydia and Scott-”

“Let Scott deal with this then. Let him be the hero of his morally black and white world.”

“Peter-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Scott has school in the morning.” Peter rolled his eyes and hung up. This was the problem with teenagers and college kids.

He plopped himself down against a tree trunk, closed his eyes and listened. The teen was typing something. He heard his heart rate spike for a moment before it settled down. Peter wondered what the boy was looking at.

“Does this kid ever sleep?” Peter muttered to himself.

It wasn’t until after four in the morning that Stiles closed his laptop and settled into bed. A moment later though, the kid was back up on his feet. Peter stood and placed himself farther into the darkness. The boy at the window was pale and exhausted, but something in his eyes reminded Peter of himself. It was a calculating look, a look that spotted other people's weaknesses and used it as leverage. The kid’s eyes scanned right over Peter and he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Of course the boy couldn’t see him, he wasn’t a werewolf.

Finally, the human turned away and went back to bed. Peter listened as the boy’s breathing steadied and evened out; the kid even snored a bit.

Chapter Text

Stiles was sat in his favorite corner of the library. He was staring at the uncategorized books. They had always held an air of mystery around them but he had always been too focused on other things to really consider them.

Thinking about it now, not once had Stiles seen someone check out one of these books.

They were a mystery, a puzzle to solve, and Stiles didn’t have anything better to do.

Before he knew what he was doing Stiles found himself at the front desk. The girl sitting there looked up at him with a small smile and quirked her one of her eyebrows up at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, no- I mean, yes.”

She didn’t say anything so Stiles awkwardly continued, pointing the section of books he had just left. “Do you know what those books are? I mean- their books, yes, but why are they over there? Why aren’t they labeled?”

The girl glanced over his shoulder to where he was pointing.

“Oh. Those were either from the original college library or found in a storage room in the basement. They slowly got moved there over time as new, sometimes updated versions of books were brought into the library. The head librarian is thinking about donating them to another library or something.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Stiles gave her a small smile before heading back over to the books.

Instead of sitting back down, he slid his fingers across the spines of some of the books. He read some of the titles quietly to himself. He could pronounce most of them, and the rest he attempted to sound out despite the language barrier.

Shakespearean books from 1807, The Republic by Plato, The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky; the list went on.

Stiles stopped at a small black book. He almost hadn’t seen it, however, something about it called to him. He slid his fingers over the text on the spine, the title was in Latin. Stiles pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open. It was a journal of sorts, entirely written in Latin. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Of course a book with a Latin title would be written in Latin. There were pictures though; that was probably what made him decide to keep the book.

Stiles brought the book back to the table and flipped through the old stained-yellow pages. It was all hand-written and hand-drawn which led to Stiles’ assumption of it being one of a kind. There were images of different moon cycles, plants, werewolves, and creatures Stiles had never even heard of.

He thought of Scott, Jackson, and Isaac. Were Malia and Lydia the same? Could the other two people Scott wanted to introduce him to be the same? He stopped himself from jumping to conclusions. He didn’t know anything for sure yet. He could just be making things up.

As Stiles flipped through the pages it became clear that he was going to have to teach himself Latin. The book was obviously unfinished, the blank pages near the end were the give-away.

Stiles stopped flipping through the pages suddenly and ran his fingers across the space where the pages connected to the inner headband of the book. The remains of a torn page ruffled against his fingers. Stiles continued to scan the pages for anymore defilement. He found several more places where pages were torn from the book. His eyebrows scrunched downward in confusion. He wouldn’t know what was really missing from the book until he could read it.

Stiles sighed and placed the book onto the table before him. Pulling out his phone, Stiles googled language videos for Latin. There were quite a few results.

He listened to multiple videos as he completed his class assignments. The videos mostly acted as background noise. When a particular phrase or word caught his attention, Stiles would repeat it out loud, quietly, to himself.

He continued like this until he had to leave for his next class. When he gathered his stuff, rather than put the small black book back on the shelf, Stiles carefully slipped it into one of his binders and into his backpack. He put every other book he pulled out to use for class work onto the returned books cart.

He gave the girl at the front desk a small smile and wave as he left. He scolded himself silently when he realized that was probably the most suspicious thing he could have done other than flaunt the book around. She had mentioned the library was contemplating donating those books, they wouldn’t miss one black book right? The book was basically being donated anyway. Rather than being shoved in a basement somewhere, the book would have a new home in the Stilinski Library of Unplanned Supernatural Introduction.

At practice Stiles tried to keep his distance from Scott, Isaac, and Jackson. He wasn’t afraid or anything, definitely not. He just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t really sure about anything at that moment.

Stiles lay on his stomach in the grass. He was supposed to be doing push-ups.

“To build upper arm strength.” Had been Coach’s reason for the annoying physical exertion.

There was just so much going on in his mind. He barely registered Scott asking him if he was alright. Stiles nodded, told Scott he was just tired, and lifted himself off the ground, joining the team in counting each complete push-up.

Watching them at practice, Stiles didn’t see anything abnormal. They were human, as far as he could tell. He thought back to the articles he read last night. What had it said about them? Enhanced speed, strength, sense of smell, hearing.

Stiles stared at the white ball in front of him and glanced in Scott’s direction. His eyes traveled from Scott over to Jackson, then from Jackson to Isaac, and then back to Scott. He looked back down at the ball, face scrunching in consideration.

This was stupid, he shouldn’t do it.

He decided to do it anyway.

He bounced up and down for a moment as he psyched himself up enough to go through with it.

Stiles ran, scooped the ball up and as he went to toss it, he tripped. The ball launched out of the net at the end of his lacrosse stick and into the air. It hurdled its way over to where Scott stood, his back almost completely turned toward Stiles. Stiles landed on the ground, flat on his stomach, before the ball reached its destination. Stiles watched the ball spin. In those few seconds he hated himself.

What if Scott didn’t catch the ball?

What if he was wrong?

A small part of himself was proud though, the ball was spinning in the direction he wanted it to. A couple years ago, he was sure it would have went spiralling in another direction and hit an innocent bystander.

Stiles’ eyes caught Scott’s movements, even the little ones. There was a small tilt of Scott’s head before he began turning toward Stiles. Stiles watched Scott’s eyes flick up to the ball instantly before directing their focus elsewhere, making it appear as if he had a bad reaction time.

Stiles had to give Scott some credit, if he didn’t know what he was looking for, Stiles would be completely unaware of how aware Scott was.

Scott moved his arms up to his face when the ball got closer to his face. Stiles watched Scott catch the ball and roll with the momentum of it as if the ball had hit him.

As Scott hit the ground with a thud, Stiles jumped to his feet, calling out an apology as he ran toward his fallen teammate.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry! Scott! Are you okay?”

Stiles was sorry, he hadn’t wanted to throw the ball at Scott. He had wanted to do it to Jackson. However, he was more afraid of Jackson’s retaliation and was pretty sure that Scott would believe it was an accident and accept his apologies.

Stiles quickly glanced at where Scott had let the ball roll before turning his full attention to Scott.

Scott groaned. Stiles figured it was just for show. Either that, or falling on the ground had actually hurt him a little.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked again.

Scott pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Yeah. All good.”

Stiles watched Scott rub his forearms for effect.

Coach had come running over to see what the trouble was. He looked between Stiles and Scott before yelling at an unreasonably close distance.

“Stilinski!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Did you somehow get worse in the last two hours? Thirty more minutes overtime!” Coach walked away yelling at Greenberg. “You want to continue laughing, Greenberg? You can join Stilinski for overtime if it pleases you.”

Stiles cringed. He intentionally fell backwards onto his bottom so he was sitting with his legs out infront of him. He hadn’t thought about the repercussions. His dad was always on him about that. He marked it on his mental list as something to work on. But, he had been right. Something was definitely different with Scott. Something inhuman.

“Sorry, man.”

Stiles broke away from his thoughts and redirected his attention back to Scott. The apology caught him by surprise.

“Why are you apologizing to me? I was the one who hit you with the ball.”

Scott shrugged. Stiles gaped at him for a moment before he snapped his jaw shut. Stiles pushed himself to his feet, leaned down and reached his hand out to give Scott a hand off the ground. Scott accepted and Stiles helped him to his feet. Stiles brushed some dirt off of Scott’s shoulder before pulling away.

“I am sorry about that.” Stiles mentioned again.

“It’s all good.” Scott had one of his goofy smiles hanging loosely from his lips. “Didn’t even leave a scratch.”

Stiles didn’t avoid Scott after that. They did the drills together, bantered, and joked. Coach had even put them on the same team during a mock match. He split the teams as evenly as possible, Scott and Stiles on one team and Jackson and Isaac on the other.

Despite the fact that it was so easy to get along with Scott despite his discover, Stiles had trouble focusing on the game. Was he supposed to tell Scott he knew?

The game ended with Jackson’s team victorious.

“Sorry we lost. My head wasn’t really in the game.” Stiles apologized to Scott because he was pretty sure he had been more of a handicap to his team than any help.

“Really? Don’t you usually just suck?”

Stiles glared at Jackson. He wanted to wipe the smug look off the jerk’s face. Outing him as a werewolf would probably do that. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. There was a reason the supernatural was kept quiet. That would probably be a bad idea he decided. There was a saying about cornering wild animals and all that. He would just have to settle for keying the side of Jackson’s Porsche.  

“Jackson.”

Stiles hadn’t noticed Isaac standing behind the current object of his anger. Scott’s hand landed on Stiles’ shoulder and tugged him away from Jackson and Isaac. Stiles let Scott lead him away.

“You weren’t that bad.” Scott managed after a few more moments of silence.

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

“You have tells, man. You basically tell people you are lying when you are lying to them.”

“I have tells?”

“Everybody has them, Scott. Yours are just super obvious.”

“What are they?”

“If I told you, I wouldn’t have much of an advantage over your-” Stiles stopped himself. He had almost said “enhanced senses.”

“Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head.

“Sorry, I just remembered that I have to stay another thirty-minutes after practice. Do you-” Before Stiles could finish asking, Scott interjected.

“My bike is fixed, so no worries about the ride. Thank you, for that by the way.”

“No problem. I’m sure you would do the same.”

Scott nodded.

“I would. I’d do anything for my friends.”

A whistled sounded across the field and the two boys looked over to Finstock.

“Practice is over! Get out of here. Stilinski! Thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Coach.”

Stiles watched as the field emptied. Everybody gathered their things, said goodbye or walked off with a group. He waved Scott off as he drove out of the parking lot on his bike.

Stiles prepped himself for another half hour of drills. He stretched to keep himself from pulling a muscle.

A ball landed at his feet and Stiles looked up. Jackson stood a few yards away. Swinging his lacrosse stick as if he were still throwing a ball.

“What?” Stiles asked accusingly.

Jackson had no reason to be there. Especially when he was such a jerk; Stiles wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. Stiles would have taken it as Jackson aiming for the team captain position if it hadn’t been for the tiny fact that Jackson hadn’t told Finstock that he was staying.

“Toss it back.”

“What?”

“The ball. Toss the ball back.”

“Why?”

“For practice.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because that’s how you practice.”

“No, I meant why should I pass it to you? Why are you still here? Didn’t you fill your jerk quota for the day? You know, weaseling your way into Finstock’s good graces only works if he actually knows you are here.”

Stiles didn’t move from where he sat on the ground. He watched Jackson, studying his micro expressions for any hints as to what Jackson was thinking. Stiles silently waited until Jackson spoke.

“You weren’t as bad as I said you were.” The response finally came and Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Is that an apology from Jackson Whittemore? Did I hear that correctly? I must be dying.”

Stiles watched Jackson flinch. The movement had been small and almost unnoticeable, but Stiles was learning to be hypervigilant around the possible werewolves he had been getting to know.

“What? Admitting you were apologizing too far beneath you?”

“Just shut up already and practice.”

“You’re not team captain yet.” Stiles muttered complaints and comments but stood up anyway. He grabbed his lacrosse stick off the ground where he had dropped it. He gave himself enough room from the ball to get a running start. He ran, scooped the ball up and tossed it in Jackson’s direction. Jackson caught it with ease and tossed it back.

“I’m going to be the goalie. All you have to do, it get the ball passed me.”

“Right. You make it sound so easy.”

Jackson ran over to where the net usually was for practice and tapped his stick against the ground.

“Come on.”

Stiles complied, but remained wary of Jackson. He continued to run the ball and toss it toward the net, testing different angles and force.

When Stiles finally got the ball past Jackson in a manner that would pass as a goal, Stiles fist bumped the air.

“Yes!”

Stiles watched Jackson roll his eyes, and the smile on his face grew.

After Stiles’ brief celebration, Jackson had him running drills, passing and catching.

“How is it that someone capable of running on a lacrosse field is unable to walk across a flat surface?” Jackson asked out of the blue during one of the drills.

It took Stiles a moment to realize Jackson was referring to when he tripped earlier that day. Jackson actually believed that Stiles hadn’t intentionally slipped, that he was just that clumsy. Stiles was simultaneously upset that the people around him had no confidence in his balance skills and happy due to the fact that he had pulled it off so well. He should have majored in acting or theater.

Stiles just shrugged in response before his brain caught up and Stiles shot back,

“How is it that someone capable of being a decent human being is seemingly unable to do just that?”

“See you tomorrow, Stilinski.”

Stiles watched Jackson gather his things and head off to his car before he called back his response.

“I hope not! I have a ‘No Jackson Whittemore’ policy on Saturdays.”

Jackson didn’t even bother to acknowledge Stiles.

Stiles drove the familiar route home and pulled into the driveway of the empty house.

A small note and some money tacked onto the fridge told him not to wait up and to order some food. Stiles scowled at the note. As if he would give his dad a chance to sneak in some junk food to his diet. Stiles pocketed the cash.

Stiles threw together a quick meal. He piled specific portions of everything into two tupperware containers, grabbed utensils and headed back out to his jeep.

The police station was relatively quiet when he let himself in. No one was at the front desk so Stiles headed into the back toward his father’s office. Even from afar he could tell it was empty.

“Hey, Parish.”

Stiles greeted the lone deputy. Parish, who had been engrossed in a report on his desk looked up at Stiles and gave him a small smile.

“Hello, Stiles. Your dad isn’t here right now.”

“I see that. Any idea when he will be back?”

“I don’t. He is responding to a ten-sixteen.”

Domestic Problem. Stiles cringed inwardly.

“Mind if I wait in his office?”

“Not at all, go for it. Might be a while though.”

“That’s fine.”

Stiles made his way over to the Sheriff's office and let himself in. He placed the tupperware on the desk and sat himself in a cushioned chair near the door.

Stiles hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

“Stiles.”

Stiles blinked his eyes opened and jerked upright in the chair.

“Hey, bud. What in the world are you doing here?”

Stiles smiled lazily up at his dad. He was happy to see him in one piece.

“Made dinner. Thought it might be nice to eat together.”

The Sheriff followed Stiles’ gaze over to the food sitting on the desk and sighed.

“It could have been a much longer wait than it was.”

Stiles agreed.

“Could have been. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Stiles joined his father closer to the desk and pulled the lids off the containers.

They sat together, mostly in silence, and ate.   

Sometime during the food eating Stiles’ dad pulled out a case file and was mulling over it as he ate.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked casually as he removed the fork from his mouth.

“Just an old case.”

“Yeah?”

“Alright, get the heck out of here. Only one of us needs to be pulling overtime at the station.”

Stiles slowly complied. He gathered the tupperware and his father walked him out of the office.

“See you around, Deputy Parrish.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced over at his dad.

“You don’t have to walk me to the jeep.”

“I do if I want to make sure you are actually leaving.”

Stiles tried to smother his urge to smile and nodded.

They walked the rest of the way together.

“Alright kid, I’ll see you at home.” His father gave him a pat on his shoulder before leaving Stiles to his own devices.

Stiles drove home in a rather happy mood.

Saturday came and went uneventfully. Stiles lounged around his house in his boxers and a t-shirt playing video games, reading, and napping. It was a typical lazy Saturday.

Scott texted Stiles a couple times at one point and they voice chatted while they played a couple video games together.

“You suck at this.”

“So do you. Aren’t you supposed to have good reflexes and reaction times?”

Silence answered Stiles and he inwardly cursed at the slip of his tongue. His mind began scouring his subconscious for an explanation to his question. Before Stiles could say anything else, Scott replied.

“Why would I have that?”

“Dude, you are in the running for team captain. Team captain is supposed to be the best, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

“How is that going by the way? Has Finstock said anything about it?”

There was a pause and then an embarrassed Scott apologized over the mike.

“Sorry, I shook my head. Forgot you couldn’t see me.”

“No worries- Dude, you were supposed to be watching my back!”

Stiles groaned and tossed his controller onto the other side of the couch.

“Sorry! Crap. Hold on-”

The mike went dead and Stiles leaned back against the couch and sighed. Stiles reached for the control he had tossed to the side and absentmindedly slid his fingers over the buttons and the analog sticks. A minute or so later Stiles heard Scott’s voice come back over the mike.

“Hey, sorry about that. My boss, Deaton, just called. There is an emergency at the clinic.”

“That’s fine. I understand. You do your thing.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Vale.”

“What?”

“Goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Adios.”

Stiles smiled at himself. He had remembered the Latin word for ‘goodbye’ and as far as he knew, he had pronounced it correctly.  

Stiles fell asleep on the couch watching some trash tv after he and Scott disconnected. He woke up an hour later dripping in a cold sweat. Stiles stared at his hands, counting his fingers. He didn’t know why, but he counted his fingers; twice just to make sure he was awake. Stiles didn’t remember a single thing from his dream, at least not consciously. He had read somewhere that people forget ninety-percent of their dreams when they wake up.

He turned the tv off and heading upstairs for a shower. His shower turned cold far too quickly and Stiles crawled into his bed shivering.

His mind flew to the thought of Sunday. He would have to cram an essay and the rest of his work for his classes.

Stiles’ hand fell onto the little black book on his bedside table and he brought it over to where his head lay on his pillow. He opened the book sideways, awkwardly, and scanned through the pages. He shifted his position so the book was outstretched above him as he faced the ceiling. He fumbled as he turned the pages and the book slipped. It landed with a loud smack against his face. He moaned and laid there, the book still resting over his face. His hands flopped to his sides, bouncing slightly against the bed.

Eventually, Stiles removed the book from his face and placed it back on the nightstand. He switched the lights off and curled up farther into his blanket. His eyelids shut heavily, the familiar feeling of exhaustion keeping them sealed closed.  

Chapter Text

Lydia was thankful that Derek had agreed to finding Stiles and protecting him, whether he believed her or not didn't really matter. None of them really knew how a Banshee’s power worked, and what little Lydia did know came from experience and the rare book or two.

Lydia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The darkness of the room had unsettled her, yet the weight of Jackson’s arm around her waist provided her with some comfort.

The comfort didn’t seem to last long. Jackson unconsciously unwrapped himself from her and rolled to face the other side of the bed. Lydia was hit suddenly with the loss of heat across her back. She shivered and tugged the blanket closer to her chin, bringing her knees toward her chest in the same movement.

Lydia’s eyes snapped open. She crawled out of bed carefully and made her way toward the bedroom door. Something drew her forward. Shakily, her hand landed on the door handle and pulled the door open.

A light breeze caught her off guard. She stepped through the doorway, her feet landing on cold leaves one after the other. The trees surrounding her swayed with breeze. Her eyes were fixated on the large tree stump. The Nemeton. Her heart sank. She was dreaming. She had to be.

Lydia neared the ancient tree. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as empty noise seemed to fill her head. It grew louder as she approached it.

Lydia stopped a few feet away from the tree, opening her eyes as she did. Her eyes moved from the tree trunk to the darkness on the other side of the Nemeton. In shadows a pair of eyes met hers. Lydia shivered under the gaze. It was a haunting look. A look that made a familiar feeling burn inside of her lungs.

She took a breath and screamed.

Lydia launched herself forward from her bed. The scream still flowing from her lips. Strong arms wrapped around her. She heard a distant voice attempting to soothe her. The scream died and morphed into a sob. Tears roll down her face. Jackson ran his hand up and down her back and held her close to his chest.

The bedroom door flew open but Lydia didn’t move. She buried her face in Jackson’s shoulder and listened to his voice as he spoke.

“It was just a dream.”

“This is starting to become a common occurrence.” Peter’s voice registered in her brain as her breathing began to steady.

“Lydia?” It was Derek’s voice this time.

Lydia pulled away slightly from Jackson, but remained relatively close to him. She wiped a tear from her cheek and glanced over at the door way. Everyone was there. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Malia, Peter, Derek. They all stood in the doorway, watching her with concern. Though at a second glance Peter’s eyes were more curious than anything.

Derek’s phone rang.

“It’s Scott.” He said as he brought the phone up to his ear to answer. “She is fine. It was a nightmare- Yes- She is in good hands. How’s the human?”

Lydia perked up a bit at the last question. ‘The human,’ of course, was a reference to Stiles.

She had met him once, when Scott introduced Stiles to herself and Malia, but had seen him on campus when she picked Scott up one day and when she visited the pack.

“Good. Keep me updated- Yes, I will let her know.” With that, Derek hung up and turned to Lydia.

“Human is fine, Scott is with him tonight. He wanted me to tell you that he heard your scream and hopes you are okay.”

Lydia nodded in thanks but at the reminder of her scream, Lydia’s mind began racing. She had screamed, like a banshee.

“Alright, let’s get out of here and let them sleep.” Derek chased everyone out of the bedroom. He, himself, approached her slowly and carefully. His hand landed on her head gently, before he leaned in and gave the top of her head a light kiss. It was comforting in a way that only her alpha could supply.

“We will talk about this tomorrow.”

Lydia nodded and watched him leave.

“Are you okay?” Jackson leaned into the crook of her neck, arms still wrapped around her.

“No, but I will be.”

They laid back down in the bed together, Jackson’s arms keeping her close. Lydia closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, taking deep calming breathes until exhaustion lulled her to sleep.  

Lydia slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night. She still woke in the morning feeling exhausted, but any thoughts of the night were currently gone from her mind. Jackson was still pressed against her back. She smiled to herself.

When they had been together in high school, their relationship had been completely different than the one they were currently in. Jackson had been so concerned about being the best at lacrosse and she had been in her ‘pretend to be stupid’ phase. They had been through alot and she was thankful for all of it.

Lydia peeled herself from the bed carefully so not to wake Jackson. She washed up in the bathroom before getting dressed and headed out to the hallway.

Lydia and Jackson lived in one of the many refurbished apartments in the building Derek had bought years ago. Isaac lived down the hall, as did Erica and Boyd. Lydia didn’t technically live in the building, but she stayed often enough to consider it home.

Peter moved back to the loft from his apartment downtown months ago after Derek and he had sorted out their differences. Lydia personally thought it would be good for them both to live under the same roof again, they both needed each other whether they admitted it or not.

Malia still lived with her human father but had brought up the idea of moving into the loft while she attended her second year of college. Scott still lived with Melissa, and showed no interest in moving out. Lydia understood that. It was much harder to be a full time student with a job these days than it used to be.

She made her way up to the top floor where Derek’s loft was. She was only a floor down so it didn’t take very long. If he was awake, which he usually was, she knew she was there. She knocked anyway and waited for Derek to slide the door open.

“You look terrible.” Lydia looked him up and down. He looked exhausted.

“Thanks.” Derek muttered as he turned away from her and toward the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Lydia left the door open and placed herself on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Better after.”

“That’s good. Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek handed Lydia a fresh cup of coffee, cream and sugar already stirred in. She sniffed the drink and hummed in pleasure before taking a sip.

“I don’t remember much of it. I remember waking up in the dream not knowing I was dreaming, and I remember the Nemeton.” Lydia’s forehead wrinkled in thought as she struggled to remember what had happened.

“I remember a pair of eyes but nothing about them.” She took another sip of coffee and looked up at Derek. He was leaning against the island, his own coffee resting between his hands.

“Do you think it means something?”

Lydia shrugged.

“It could have been just a bad dream.”

“Yeah, but a normal bad dream doesn’t make you scream like a banshee.”

“There was that. Scott heard it?”

“Yeah. Any supernatural creature could have heard that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Causing trouble again. I know you don’t believe me about Stiles, it’s already been two months.”

“It’s fine, Lydia. And I trust your instincts.”

Lydia let her lips pull up in a small smile.

“Thank you.”

Derek inclined his head in a small nod. They finished their coffee in a comfortable silence. Lydia left the loft just as Isaac was dragging himself up the stairs.

“Is there coffee?”

“Fresh.”

Lydia smiled as Isaac stumbled up the stairs to the loft.

Lydia stopped back at her and Jackson’s apartment. She opened the door and wandered into the bedroom to retrieve her keys and jacket. Jackson was still laying in bed. He lifted his head when she walked in.

“You okay.”

“I’m better. I don’t really remember it.”

“Okay.”

Lydia crossed the room and slipped her jacket on.

“Where are you going?”

“Work.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“People work on Sunday’s you know.”

“Call in sick.”

Lydia pursed her lips in pretend thought.

“Mmm… No.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Jackson, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad dream.”

Lydia felt Jackson’s eyes on her as she played with her hair in the mirror that sat on the dresser.

“What?”

“Did you really have to get a job?”

“I wanted to.”

“You could just be working there for no reason.”

Lydia shrugged.

“Pocket cash isn’t bad.”

“Like you need a little extra cash.”

Lydia gave Jackson a small glare.

“I just don’t see the point. You already met him. Scott and him are all buddy-buddy now. Why don’t you just ask Scott if you can hang out together sometime?”

Lydia gave Jackson a disgusted look. She was giving him quite a few looks this morning.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The only reason you don’t like this is because I’m not currently laying in bed with you right now. Instead I’m off to meet another boy.” Lydia smirked and gave Jackson a small shoulder shrug.

Jackson growled and Lydia turned to face her boyfriend fully. He was scowling, looking perfectly upset at the prospect of Lydia actually being with someone else.

Lydia crawled halfway onto the bed and pressed her lips against Jackson’s. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to grab her by the waist and pull her down to him. She squealed at the quick movement and pulled away from the kiss. They lay, chests together, with Lydia on top and a wicked grin on Jackson’s face. She slapped his arm lightly and scolded him.

“You are going to mess up my hair.”

“I could mess up a few other things too if you want.”

Lydia followed Jackson’s gaze to her shirt and smacked him again.

“Don’t you dare. I’m going to be late.”

When she pulled away, Jackson let her. She knew he was watching her as she fixed her hair again. She paused by the bedroom door and glanced back at him. He lay on his stomach, one arm stretched out above his head and the other one laid on the bed before him, watching her. She blew him a small kiss before turning on her heels and leaving the building.

Lydia just wanted to feel like she was doing something. Peter watched over Stiles at night during the week and on Sundays, Scott rotated watching him on Friday and Saturday with Isaac, Jackson even watched Stiles after practice on some days.

So Lydia had done the only thing she really could do. She got a job at the ice skating rink in Beacon Hills. Scott had let her know, after the first week of tailing Stiles, that he went to the ice skating rink almost twice a week every week. She had applied on a whim and gotten the job. Despite working there for the past three weeks, she hadn’t yet seen him. She had requested a shift change in hope of running into him at a different time.

Lydia clocked in and went about her work. This was her last shift during the day, she would be working nights and weekends starting tomorrow. She had been working as an Activities Attendant, monitoring the skating rink and providing safety guidance among other things, before the Event Coordinator had enlisted her one day for some quick help. Unsurprisingly she had impressed him and now more often than not she worked under him planning, organizing, and promoting things. She enjoyed the work, it helped occupy her mind when she wasn’t at school.

Lydia stood off to the side of the rink, watching a couple kids learning how to skate by holding hands and hugging the wall. She had an hour or so left until she could clock out, so she watched the skaters in the rink.

A parent stood nearby watching them and offering a hand when necessary. The other occupants were some teenagers, a couple on a date, another two families, and a few people skating on their own.

Lydia wanted to glide on the ice like she used to when she was a kid. She hadn’t been skating in a while, and despite the discount the job provided her Lydia still hadn’t been on the ice for fun.

“Hey. Lydia, right?”

Lydia spun around in surprise, her eyes going wide at the fact that she hadn’t heard or seen him come in. She internally scolded herself for not being aware of her surroundings.

“Hey.”

Stiles stood before her wearing one of his horrid plaid long sleeved over shirts with a black t-shirt underneath. A pair of skates hung, tied together by the shoelaces, around his neck. He gave her a small smile and shifted. Did he ever stop moving?

“We met before. Scott introduced us.”

“I remember you, Stiles.”

“Right. What are you doing here?” It wasn’t said in a harsh way, just curious and perhaps slightly embarrassed.

Lydia pointed to the name tag on her shirt and smiled. “I work here.”

“Since when?” Stiles’ eyes opened in surprise.

“Three weeks ago, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I mean, I didn’t think that-” He trailed off.

“That someone like me would need a job?”

“I didn’t mean anything-”

“It’s fine. I don’t. Need the job I mean. I wanted one.”

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?” Lydia gestured to the skates around his neck.

“Ah. I- uh- I come here to clear my head. I’m not great or anything but it helps.”

Lydia nodded her understanding.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy or anything but when do you get off?”

Lydia glanced down at her watch.

“Another forty minutes or so.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll see you again before you head out.”

Lydia nodded and watched Stiles walk over to a bench. He gave her a little wave as he stumbled toward the rink, now wearing the skates. Lydia kept herself from laughing at the sight. She watched him turn his focus to the rink. He started off slow and hugging the wall. Slowly, he moved away from it and began gliding on his own. He wasn’t terrible, although far from the best. She was itching to get on the ice, take him by hand and show him how it was done.

She shifted on her feet, anxious for her shift to end. She continued to watch the skaters in the rink, scolding two teenagers for fooling around on the ice. She nearly ran to clock out.

“Hey, Michael. Can I get a pair of skates please?”

Lydia gave her coworker her size and cash before finding herself a bench. She removed the sneakers she had changed into earlier that day and slid the skates onto her feet. She gracefully entered the rink, spotted Stiles and glided over to him. She slid to a stop before him, startling him as she did. He let out a yelp and she reached out to grab his hands before he fell backward. He latched onto her thankfully and only let go when he steadied himself.

“That was mean.”

Lydia just raised an eyebrow.

“You off?”

“Yeah. Mind if I skate with you?”

“Mind? No- I don’t mind.”

Lydia skated next to Stiles slowly, matching his pace.

“Here, take my hand.”

“What?”

Lydia grabbed his hand and dragged him gently across the ice at a speed more appealing to her. His hand tightened around hers as she picked up the pace.

“I take it you know how to skate.” Stiles huffed and she smiled.

“I used to skate competitively when I was younger.”

“Really? Why did you stop?”

‘Why does anyone stop doing anything?” Lydia shrugged as she answered. She loved skating, she did, but after a while it had lost its appeal.

Lydia let go of his hand and staked in front of him, facing him. If his eyes lit up in admiration, Lydia totally didn’t bask in the attention.

“Show off.”

Lydia just smiled. She skated a distance away from him, did a jump spin and landed it perfectly before turning back and skating toward Stiles.

“You should teach me that.”

“Two hundred dollars a session and you have yourself a deal.”

“You don’t have a friend discount?”

“That was with the friend discount.”

Stiles laughed lightly. Lydia liked that sound. It was genuine. Something she noticed Stiles didn’t do often.

She held out her hand for him to take.

“Come on.”

Stiles took her hand and Lydia dragged him around the ring, giving him the occasional pointer or two as they went.

Lydia nearly got dragged down to the ice when Stiles lost his footing. She let go of his hand and laughed when he hit the ground.

Lydia gave him a hand off the ground and they skated around the group of giggling children.

She hadn't even realized how much fun she had actually been having until her phone rang.

“Hello?”

Jackson barely let her get the words out of her mouth before he was talking again.

“Where the heck are you? It’s nearly four. I thought you said your shift ended at two.”

“Sorry, I ran into Stiles and we kinda went skating.” Lydia looked up at Stiles. He was shifting like he was uncomfortable. His fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt as he tried his best to look anywhere but at her. Lydia suppressed a smile.

“I thought something had happened to you. You’re with Stilinski?”

“Yes. I lost track of time. I’ll be heading back soon.”

She hung up and turned toward Stiles.

“Sorry, that was Jackson.”

Stiles nodded like he had guessed who she had been talking to.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you out. I should probably get going too.”

The pair returned their skates and walked out of the building together.

“Thank you.”

Lydia raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“For today. Not many people who are like you would have spent the last two hours trying to give me some skating pointers.”

“People like me?”

“Don’t you have mirrors where you live?”

Lydia laughed.

“You’re not a bad person, Stiles.”

“Never said I was.” Stiles’ lips turned upward in a smirk. “I’ll see you around. Hopefully.”

Lydia nodded. “Hopefully.”

Lydia watched as Stiles neared a ratty old jeep. She listened as the jeep engine chugged to life and pull away before she got into her own car.

Chapter Text

Stiles drove home from the ice skating rink with the happy thought of a new friend. He didn’t really know if Lydia would consider them friends, but as far as Stiles was concerned they were.

He had had doubts about getting to know Scott’s friends. If Lydia wouldn’t have hung out with Stiles unless Scott was there, Stiles would have been sure that Lydia was definitely not really a friend. It hadn’t been like that though. At least not from what Stiles could tell.

Lydia had been intimidating when they first met, and after spending a couple hours with her, he was still intimidated. However, he could see that under the intimidation, she was a great person. Someone who kind of understood him and could keep up with him on an intellectual level. Nothing against Scott. Scott was a great friend, one of the only people he actual trusted, but he wasn’t someone he could discuss random physics facts with.

Stiles realized something in that moment. He did trust Scott, almost like he would a brother if he had one. It had been a couple months since they had met, but if Stiles was honest it felt like a lot longer than that. He had never felt so close to someone before; his father didn’t count. It was a nice feeling.

Lydia reminded him of the girls he went to school with when he was younger. For all he knew Lydia could have been one of those girls. The girls who held their heads high and wore designer clothes even at a young age. The ones who knew they were beautiful and could control the mood of a room by their presence alone. He hated those girls. Lydia, though she reminded him of them, seemed just a bit different than those girls.

Perhaps in another life Stiles would have considered Lydia as potential partner. He didn’t see her that way though. She was beautiful, yes, but he didn’t see her like that. Perhaps in another life. Besides, he was kind of happy to see that she was the person Jackson was with. She was a good balance for the jackass he had gotten to sort of know during lacrosse practice.

He cringed at the thought of Jackson. At the last practice Coach Finstock had announced the team captain position. Jackson had been given the position of team captain of the lacrosse team with Scott as his second. The douche seemed like he would run Stiles harder at the next practice than Finstock ever did. Finstock probably enjoyed having someone else in charge of running the drills and what not. It gave him more time to lounge around and not do his job. Stiles remembered when Finstock used to do the same exact thing during his time on the high school lacrosse team.

Stiles finally found the time to think about it. It hadn’t really occurred to him to think about it. He had no idea if they had at all gone to school together at some point. That’s not really something you think about when you meet people at college, is it?

Stiles hadn’t played lacrosse his senior year so he had no idea if Jackson, Isaac, or Scott had joined the team. Danny and Jackson seemed to get along pretty well at practice and Stiles was starting to believe that the two of them were actually closer friends than they seemed. Stiles made a mental note to eventually ask Scott where he went to school before the community college.

Stiles turned the ignition off and hopped out of his jeep. The police cruiser was in the driveway next to where he parked his jeep. He twirled his car keys around his finger and he jogged to the front door.

“Hey, dad. I’m home!”

“How was the skating rink?”

“Oh, you know. Cold. Slippery. Painful.”

“I don’t understand why you feel like you need to go and get yourself hurt in order to clear your head. Don’t get me wrong, I like the fact that you are going out and you know, doing teenage stuff, but really?”

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t know why he kept going despite how much he fell. It definitely wasn’t because he liked to injure himself, that was completely unintentional. It was just a place he found to go. Stiles had started going there his first semester of college. Without lacrosse there hadn’t been much for him to do or get involved in. If he wanted to he could probably find a new place, but now he really didn’t want to.

Stiles sat at the dinner table and watched his father move about the kitchen as he prepared dinner. Stiles removed himself from his seat and gathered two plates, utensils, and one cup from cupboards and drawers. He placed them on the table before moving toward the fridge and removing a beer and some water. He poured the water in his cup and popped the beer open for his father.

Stiles held the plates out for his dad as the older Stilinski piled them with food. When they were both sitting and enjoying their meal Stiles cleared his throat and broke the silence. It had been a comfortable silence but Stiles had other plans. He hadn’t forgotten his most recent discovery about the world and he couldn’t deny the curious side of himself much longer.

His dad had taught him at a young age to pay attention to detail, even the smallest of details. The Sheriff had also taught him not to act before having proof. Stiles couldn’t very well be his own witness, but perhaps the entire Beacon Hills police department could be.

“Hey, dad?”

“What do you want?” The sheriff sighed and let the fork fall from his hand and onto the plate. It made a small clanking sound but it hadn't fallen far.

“Why do you think I want something?”

“Because you are asking.”

“I was just going to ask about your work.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because I’m a caring son who wants to know about his father’s work.”

“Liar.”

“Alright, dad. Work with me here.”

“Alright, Stiles. Go ahead and ask.”

Stiles paused for dramatic effect before dragging out the ‘so,’ adding like five o’s to the word..

“So, dadio. Have any weird cases at work? Cases you wouldn’t solve? Repeat offenses involving poor little bunny rabbits or deer?”

“That was the worst build up to such a ridiculous question, Stiles.”

“Well?”

“No. Wait. Actually, you know what. Now that you mention it there is this one case I’m stuck on.”

“Yeah?” Stiles straightened in his seat.

“Yeah. It involves this juvenile teenager who can’t seem to avoid getting involved where he shouldn’t be sticking his nose.”

Stiles slouched in his seat. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, unable to find the words he wanted to say.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you too much.” Stiles finally settled on those words.

“I’m starting to think I didn’t rub off on you enough.” His dad just chuckled and shook his head before picking his fork back up and moving his food around on his plate.

Stiles scowled at his father, although he couldn’t quite muster an actual scowl. He was proud of his dad for loosening up a bit more. It hadn’t gone the way he wanted to, but his dad had smiled.

Stiles stood, cleaned off his plate. Before he could head upstairs Stiles’ father stopped him.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the weird questions? What did you get yourself into?”

“Nothing, dad. I haven’t done anything. I was just joking.”

His father may have been good at integrating criminals but Stiles had learned early on how to lie to his father and Sheriff. His father nodded and Stiles went upstairs to his room. He collapsed on his bed with a sigh and smothered his face into his pillow.

He had asked his father a perfectly reasonable question. Perfectly reasonable. Maybe it was more out of tactical information gathering than actual curiosity for his father’s work but his dad didn’t know that.

Stiles lay on his bed, he had shifted so he staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. Stiles knew he was exhausted. He hadn’t been getting much sleep as of late. Even when he did finally fall asleep, it was a light one or one filled with bad dreams.

Stiles awoke to a noise outside of his house. It hadn’t even been that loud. If he was sleeping properly he probably wouldn’t have even woken up to it.

Whatever it was that woke him left Stiles feeling haunted. He pulled himself out of bed and flicked apart the blinds on his window to peek outside. His eyes scanned the street, stopping as he caught the movement of a figure by the trees.

This whole thing reminded him of one of his many nightmaric dreams.

Stiles found himself outside of his house, searching the darkness. It had gotten to be too much, the feeling of being watched.

Stiles crept out of his room as quietly as possible, his father had turned in for the night. He took one step at a time, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor boards. He stood outside, barefoot.

“I know you are out here.” Stiles kept his voice low. He didn’t know, not for sure, but it was worth a shot. Maybe the person watching him, it there was actually someone, would make a mistake and Stiles would see it. Nothing happened. Stiles’ eyes scanned the dark, looking for anything. He should have brought his bat.

Eventually he was shifting from one foot to the other in discomfort and he gave up. He nearly ran back into the house. When he was back inside he locked the door behind him and headed quietly back up the stairs to his room.

Stiles woke up the next morning exhausted. Not just the normal exhausted; the physical, mental, and emotional kind of exhausted. He didn’t want to move, his eyes refused to open, and his brain hurt.

“Stiles! Get up. You are going to be late to class.”

Stiles groaned and slowly flopped out of his bed, taking his blanket to the floor with him. He sat on the floor with his back against his bed, legs still wrapped in his blanket. He rubbed the sandy crust from his eyes and yawned. He thought about staying home. Like really thought about it. He weighed the pros and cons.

Pros. Skipping class, extra sleep, maybe he feels better. Cons. Make-up work, an absence on his record, Scott texting him obnoxiously, his father worries.

Eventually Stiles pulled himself off the floor, stumbling as he tripped over his own blanket, and made his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He got dressed in jeans and one of his favorite flannel shirt and tackled the stairs two at a time. He passed the kitchen and peeked his head into the room.

“See you later, dad.”

“Be safe and have a good day, kid.”

“You too, dad!”

If Stiles wasn’t running late he would have launched into a big argument about he wasn’t a kid. He could already think of two solid arguments against it. He made it to the jeep and over to the school in record time.

Stiles dragged himself through the day. His earlier spout of energy that had propelled him out of his blanket and to the school had long since gone away. He felt awful, knew he had bags under his eyes, and still attempted to pretend nothing was wrong. He smiled, joked, and talked as he normally would despite wanting be at home in his bed, asleep. When Stiles and Scott had a free period they sat together in the library.

Not at Stiles’ favorite table. That was his little get away space.

They sat at one of the many tables grouped together by the front of the library. Scott was doing some reading for one of his classes while Stiles napped on the table, or at least tried to nap.

Stiles sighed against the cool table. Scott didn’t ask him any questions, Stiles had caught Scott looking at him with concern when he glanced up from the table a few minutes ago, and he was thankful for it. He wouldn’t know what to tell Scott if he had asked. They sat together comfortably in the relatively silent library. There was the occasional page turn, shuffle, and whispered conversation in the background but Stiles found it all very comforting. He didn’t feel alone.

Stiles barely participated during lacrosse practice much to the anger of Finstock. During one of his many breaks, Stiles sat with Matt. He watched Matt stare through the eyepiece of his camera, zoom in and out, and take photos of the team.

“Are you part of the photography club or something?” Stiles asked

“It’s more of a hobby.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s a bit creepy when you say it’s just a hobby.”

Matt pulled the camera away from his face and turned toward Stiles, his eyebrows scrunched together as if he had never thought of it like that. Matt wasn’t offended or aggravated by Stiles’ statement, not visibly at least. So Stiles continued his train of thought.

“You should join the photography club. You’re really good and they could probably use someone like you.”

“Maybe.”

Why Matt had chosen to use the lacrosse team to practice photography, Stiles didn’t know. He didn’t even really mind it. Matt let Stiles talk his ear off when he was there. Scott let him do the samething, but it was nice to be able to do it with other people too.

Stiles was never one to have many friends. He was alone for the most part of his elementary and middle school career. It wasn’t until high school that he had found a few people willing to put up with him. The list was short, mostly consisting of Danny, Matt, and a few other lacrosse teammates, but Stiles found more value in the rare, real relationships he had with these few people over the quantity of fake relationships he could have with other people.

Stiles’ eyes scanned the field and surrounding area. Finstock and Jackson had given up twenty minutes ago on trying to get Stiles to participate. Not even Scott could really convince him to join in.

Stiles’ eyes fell on the incoming vehicles. He watched the cruiser pull into the school parking lot. He recognized his father immediately. He looked from where Finstock was, arms crossed and brooding, to where his father was getting out of the car. Stiles pushed himself off the ground and jogged over to his dad just as another cruiser pulled in behind his dad’s.

“Hey, dad.” Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together in an unspoken question.

“Sorry kid, here on business.”

“What’s going on?”

Stiles glanced over at the field. The rest of the team seemed to have noticed the new police presence. Scott had his head tilted down in concentration. Stiles rolled his eyes before turning back to his dad. Sheriff Stilinski was watching him carefully.

“Official police business.”

“Yes, I get that. What business?”

Stiles’ dad sighed.

“Just go be a kid for a bit, Stiles.”

“Dad. You are on my campus. On official police business. I don’t think it’s the best time to be a kid.” Then as an afterthought and a little tilt of his head Stiles added, “Especially since it’s a bit difficult to become a baby goat when you are physically, mentally, and emotionally human.”

The Sheriff gave him a look.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Dad, come on. Tell me.” Stiles spoke a little more urgently.

His dad sighed again, glanced back at the deputy stepping out of the car that had just pulled in, and then turned back to Stiles,

“We’ll talk at home.”

He gave Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze before turning away. Stiles raised his arms upward before letting them fall back to his sides. He turned back to the field. He thought about going back and sitting next to Matt but the guy had disappeared.

“What was that about?”

Scott had maneuvered his way over to Stiles.

“Official police business.”

They dropped the conversation and Scott convinced Stiles to join in on some of the drills. Stiles knew that Scott’s curiosity and concern could only be contained for so long. So when Scott finally asked Stiles the question he had been holding onto all day, Stiles wasn’t surprised.

“You okay? You seem a little off today.”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe you should just head home early.”

“The day is almost over. I don’t think another half hour will change anything.”

Stiles pushed through to the end of practice.

When Stiles got home he ran up to his room and straight for his computer. Stiles entered a few algorithms, hiding his IP address and ensuring his presence was undetectable to anyone who wasn’t searching, and access to his father’s police scanner and radio popped up. He plugged his headset into his laptop and listened in.

A few minutes later Stiles pulled open one of the bags of chips from his hidden stash and leaned back in his chair. Sitting around doing nothing made him bored and hungry but his curiosity prevented him from doing anything else with his time.

Nothing really happened. A 10-52 (ambulance needed), a 10-37 (suspicious vehicle), two 10-28’s (check for vehicle registration), and a 10-22 (dog case). Stiles sighed and shut the program down after a couple hours. He would just have to wait until his father got home to ask him about it. He moved from his room to the living room downstairs.

Stiles waited patiently. As patiently as he could. He sat on the couch, tapping his fingers against his thighs, waiting. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when his phone went off.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid. Gonna be late today. Don’t wait up.”

“Alright.”

Stiles sighed and slumped back against the couch.

Stiles hated sitting alone in silence. It gave his brain a chance to think and reflect about things he generally didn’t enjoy. The past few weeks had been weird. Stiles had stumbled across the existence of supernatural creatures, werewolves at least. The existence of werewolves led to questions of whether or not vampires existed. They were supposed to be like- sworn enemies or something, right? What else was out there?  

All of that raised the question of whether or not Stiles was going crazy and adding things to where there was nothing. He wished there was someone to actually ask questions or talk to about this. Someone who wouldn’t think he was crazy or belonged in Eichen House. Someone like Scott, but not Scott because there was no way he could talk to Scott about this if there was a chance he was wrong.

Then there was the feeling of constantly being watched, something his overactive mind probably amplified.

That feeling was currently itching at the back of his mind. Stiles peeled himself off the couch and toward the front door. When he opened the door he was greeted by darkness. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten. His eyes scanned the dark. A figure caught his attention. His front was turned away from Stiles, but Stiles would have recognized him anywhere.

“Scott?”

Stiles stepped out of his doorway, down the steps and into the street. He stood only a couple yards away from his friend.

Seeing Scott there confused Stiles. He hadn’t told Scott where he lived and as much as they hung out online playing video games, Scott had never been over to Stiles’ house. Stiles had told Scott that he didn’t live to far away from Scott when he dropped Scott off home for the first time, but never gave him an address. Scott couldn’t have just made a guess could he? Maybe Scott had recognized Stiles’ jeep. It was a very obvious thing.

Stiles watched Scott freeze from his animated conversation with the darkness before he turned to face him. Scott looked mortified by Stiles’ discovery of him. Stiles thought Scott was supposed to be able to hear him coming from a mile away. How could he think this person was a werewolf?

“What are you doing here, Scott?”

Scott’s eyes shifted from Stiles to something over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles watched Scott’s eyes go wide with panic. Something in Stiles’ gut twisted uncomfortably.

“Wait- Peter! No!”

Stiles barely made it eighty-degrees to his left before a sharp pain on the back of his head sent him to the ground. There was pain, then darkness. Stiles’ world went out like the flick of a light switch.

Chapter Text

Derek spent most of his day reading. It was one of those rare days where he would relax and do as he please. Isaac, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, and Malia were at school. Erica and Boyd had taken the day off to work. Derek knew he should probably get on the two of them to focus on their studies but he couldn’t bring himself to stop them from skipping, especially since they didn’t do it that often.

The book in Derek’s hands was an old one, a family heirloom. It had been tucked away safely in the Hale vault, avoiding the fate of many other books from the Hale collection. Not much of anything had survived the fire.

Derek found himself admiring family heirlooms less and less as time past after the fire. That didn’t mean he was over the fire and death of his family, that he didn’t constantly miss them. Because he did. Derek just found less time to admire such things. When he got the chance, like now, Derek took his time and appreciated every detail.

When he had first pulled the book out of the vault, Derek had ran his hands down the spine and across the pages of the old book. It didn’t matter what the book was about, he just wanted to read it. It made him feel closer to his family.

The loft was quiet. Most of the time it was an eery silence that only reminded him of how alone he was. Right now though, in this rare moment, Derek was comfortable in the empty loft. The silence didn’t haunt him or make him feel uncomfortable.

He flipped the page of the book, he was almost halfway through it, and glanced over to his phone. When he touched it, the screen lit up with the time. It had gotten late without him even realizing it. The Pack hadn’t intruded, probably because it was in the middle of the week and they all had school. Well, Peter was supposed to be babysitting the human.

Derek himself hadn’t taken a shift, mostly because he didn’t want to spend the night outside of a stranger’s house. He was hoping this thing would just blow over and no one would get hurt. He didn’t want to repeat what happened with the Alpha pack and Jennifer Blake. Boyd and Erica had almost died during that time. Derek had almost killed Boyd.

Derek shook away the thought. His pack was alive and safe and that was how he wanted to keep it. He didn’t need an outsider interfering with his quiet system. Their pack. His family.

Derek placed the book on his bed and headed toward the bathroom, stripping off his shirt and dropping it to the floor as he went. He turned the shower on before stripping completely down and hopping in. He tried to shut his brain off as he showered. He didn’t want to think about anything but the harder he tried not to think, the more he thought. It was aggravating.

After his quick shower, Derek changed back into jeans and a black henley. He was hungry but had no intention of actually taking the time and cooking anything so take-out would have to do. Derek shrugged on his leather jacket and slipped on his shoes before grabbing his keys and wallet.

Derek drove down to a local chinese restaurant and ordered to go. He never stayed home and ordered in, mainly because he didn’t really want people to know where he lived and partially because he knew no one wanted to be the person who had to deliver to an abandoned-looking building. Derek had considered reburbishing the old building and renting it out to tenants but he didn’t want to be responsible for so many human lives. His mind went back to the Alphas. He was pulled from his thoughts when his order was called.

Derek resisted the urge to eat the food in his car and drove back to his loft. When he finally reached the loft, Derek pulled out the food and settled on the couch, his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He munched on his food and stared at the empty wall across the room from where he was sat. Staring at the boring wall made him think about getting an entertainment system.

The loft had gone from the bare minimum, basically just a bed, to a full leather couch, two cushioned chairs, a bookshelf, a night table by his bed, and a coffee table. They had taken down the left wall and built a kitchen in the adjoining room. His bed remained in the far right corner closest to the large stationary window that took over the wall across from the door. The brick wall with the giant hole that adjoined the wall Derek had been staring at remained. Despite the amount of complaining, he had refrained from buying an entertainment system. He knew the minute he got one of those he would never be able to get the pack out of his loft.

Derek had thought about fixing the brick wall up or turning it into an actual bedroom but he couldn’t motivate himself enough to do it. If he sealed the brick wall he wouldn’t have access to the bathroom and would have to build a new one. He still couldn’t motivate himself. He really didn’t need much, hadn’t even really wanted to build the kitchen but Peter had insisted with the Pack slowly growing and all.

Derek ate his food and cleaned up after himself. He tossed away the food containers and washed his hands. Derek settled back on his bed, his legs outstretched in front of him and crossed, with the book in hand. He wanted to keep reading.

Derek wasn’t expecting a call from Scott. It was a school night. Besides, Scott never called. It was odd seeing Scott’s name on the caller ID. Scott wouldn’t call just to be social.

He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

Derek quickly accepted the call and put the phone by his ear. Before he could say anything, Scott jumped at the chance to speak.

“Derek!” The urgency in Scott’s voice had Derek placing the book that sat in his lap on a nearby night table. He scooted forward in his bed, legs bent over the side as he got ready to get up and rush to Scott’s aid.

“Scott, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not gonna like this.”

“Being vague doesn’t help anyone, Scott.” Derek struggled to keep the rising growl from escaping his lips.

“We are on our way back and we are bringing Stiles.”

“What?” Derek shot up from his seat and began pacing the room. “We? What happened, Scott?” Why was this happening? What had happened?

“Yeah. Peter may have-” Derek’s hearing easily picked up on Peter in the background complaining about being thrown under the bus and the lack of trust. Scott was with Peter. Why was Scott with Peter?

Scott shouted at Peter to shut up and Derek had to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Scott?”

“Sorry.”

“What were you even doing there?”

“I- uh- I was-”

“Okay. It doesn’t really matter. Tell me what happened. What is going on?”

“We’re- uh- kidnapping Stiles.” Scott coughed uncomfortably as Derek processed what he said.

“You- This wasn’t part of the plan. We shut this idea down. Don’t you remember that?”

“Of course I remember it. It wasn’t on purpose. Stiles kind of snuck up on me and then Peter launched into action before thinking.”

“How did a human sneak up on you? You are a werewolf, Scott. A werewolf.”

“I was distracted.”

Derek could tell by Scott’s voice that he was flushed with embarrassment. Derek didn’t even bother responding. He ended the call abruptly and ran his hand down his face. It was too late to have to deal with this. He was not in the mood to deal with this.

After a moment of thought, Derek shot a text to Isaac letting him know about the situation and gave his beta instructions to gather the pack and have them meet him in the loft. He knew the majority of the pack was in the building, most of them were probably procrastinating any sort of class assignments they may have or already asleep.

Five minutes later and Isaac, Jackson, Malia, Erica, and Boyd were sitting in his loft.

“This better be important. My beauty sleep is important to my complexion.” Erica had grumbled as Boyd dragged her into the loft. When they were inside Boyd guided her toward the couch and was whispering into her ear. Derek didn’t have to listen in to know Boyd was telling her about the kidnapping. Her eyes had snapped open with a mischievous glint.

Lydia had texted that she was on her way. She had planned on spending the week on her college campus in her dorm and would have been back that weekend if things had gone as things had been expected to.

Lydia had arrived ten minutes after Isaac texted her. Derek was sure that she had sped there but didn’t mention it. This wasn’t the time to scold Lydia, who was quite a good driver, about speeding. He was about to have a complete stranger in his loft.

Boyd and Erica were hogging the couch, Isaac was slouching in one of the chairs, Jackson had taken over the other, Lydia was pacing the room, and Malia sat on the spiral staircase. She was starting to take after her father, Derek’s uncle, in the small ways and Derek hoped it was only in the small ways.

They all waited together for Scott and Peter to arrive.

This was it. They were about to expose a human to the supernatural. They had kidnapped a human. Derek hope the human wouldn’t scream; screaming humans weren’t something Derek enjoyed. Derek dragged his hand down his face.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Isaac was now pacing the room, having switched places with Lydia. This had to be the fourth or fifth time he asked that. Jackson groaned but no one really responded.  

It was another ten minutes before Derek heard a car engine purr into park and turn off. Scott and Peter were back. No one made a move to get up and greet them, mostly because Derek didn’t. He remained where he was, leaning against one of the wooden support beams. Scott threw the door open and stepped into the loft followed shortly after by Peter.

Peter was carrying the human. He wasn’t what Derek had been expecting, but then again Derek didn’t really know what he had been expecting.

“He’s heavier than he looks.” Mumbled Peter as he made his way farther into the loft.

The form in Peter’s arms was unconscious. The boy- man- in Peter’s arms did look scrawny and very human. Derek couldn’t imagine him weighing much. The human’s long arms dangled helplessly at his sides, his hair was disheveled, and despite all the manhandling he looked rather peaceful.

Derek inhaled, catching the smell of woods and rain. The scent mixed in the air with the smell of his pack. It wasn’t a terrible thing, and perhaps that is what had Derek on edge.

Erica and Boyd wordlessly removed themselves from the couch as Peter neared and Peter placed the unconscious human in the area they vacated.

Peter huffed and pulled away.

“This is him? This is Stiles?” Erica’s voice pitched upwards in surprise.

In that moment Derek was glad that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t met or seen this kid before. Erica hadn’t been given the chance and Derek knew she would say exactly what was on both their minds.

“I don’t know. I imagined someone more like- More like Jackson or something.”

Jackson scoffed.

“Stiles is nothing like me.”

Seeing how annoyed Jackson became at the thought, Erica pushed it. Derek watched the playful spark in her eyes glisten and her lips twitched into a half smile.

“I don’t know. You kind of style your hair the same way. You both wear plaid. I bet you two have a lot more in common than you think.”

Jackson growled.

“Enough. Peter, What did you do?”

“I fixed a problem.”

“You guys remember his father is the Sheriff, right? What if he goes home and finds that his son isn’t there?” Derek looked up at Scott as he spoke. Scott had a point. This had been a terrible idea.

Peter’s movements in the corner of Derek’s eye catch his attention. Peter was moving back toward Stiles, bending down to the level of the couch and reaching for the human’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, panic almost pouring into his words.

“Fixing another problem.” Peter’s simple reply filled the room.

Derek caught Isaac glancing in his direction for guidance on how to deal with all of this. Derek wished he could provide his with comfort but he had no idea how to handle this himself.  At some point in the few seconds it took for Peter to pat down the unconscious human on Derek’s couch, each member of his pack had glanced over at him. Derek pretended not to notice.

Peter produced Stiles’ phone from his pocket and clicked the home button.

“Anyone happen to know his passcode?” Peter raised his eyebrows and looked around the room. “No? Okay.”

Derek watched as Peter reached over to grab the unconscious boy’s hand. Peter holds each finger against the home button. It buzzed in protest until the third finger Peter tried.

Peter got lucky with the middle finger and the phone unlocked.

“There we go. Oh that’s a cute photo. Do you think that’s his mom?” Peter stood and walked a few feet away from the couch, finger sliding across the screen.

“What are you doing?” Scott made his way over to Peter and watched as Peter’s fingers slid across the phone screen.

“Texting.”

“Who?” Erica seemed to perk up at the idea of invading Stiles’ privacy. Derek, however, didn’t. It was a good idea, what Peter was doing, but Derek didn’t like that they even had to do it in the first place.

“Uh- ‘Dadio’ apparently.” Peter responded distractedly.

“What are you typing?” Malia asked as she pulled herself off the stairs.

Derek remained against the column as the younger pack members seemed to migrate over to Peter to read the text over his shoulder.

Peter read the text out as he typed it before sending it.

“Hanging with Scott tonight.”

Scott seemed to groan. If anything happened to Stiles tonight, Scot would be the first person the Sheriff would investigate.

The room was silent as they waited for a reply. No one spoke as they waited for the phone to go off. It vibrated against Peter’s hand.

“It’s a school night, Stiles.” Peter read the reply.

“Now what?” Scott asked.

“Tell him they are working on a project or something and will try not to stay out late.” Lydia said after a moment of silence.

Peter nodded as he typed out the response. The Sheriff only responded with one word.

“Stiles.” Peter read again when the phone vibrated.

“What would he say in response?”

Derek followed Scott’s eyes over to the prone figure lying on his couch.

“You know him better than us, nitwit.”

Lydia smacked Jackson’s arm lightly.

“What? It’s true.”

“Just look through his older texts.” Erica reached over Peter’s shoulder and began scrolling through the text messages.

“This feels very invasive and illegal. I don’t like this.” Scott muttered backing away a bit to separate himself from the group.

“That’s because it is.” Boyd had been silent until now. Derek glanced over to his direction. After vacating the couch. Boyd had moved to one of the chairs and hadn’t bothered to get up to read over Peter’s shoulder.

“Oooh, write, ‘Father.’”

“That’s it? That’s your big contribution?” Peter looked disbelievingly over at Malia who shrugged in response. “Anyone got anything better?” He glanced around the room before finally landing on Derek. Derek didn’t like that look. He didn’t want to be a part of this. Instead of giving an answer, Derek just glared.

“Derek. Thoughts?”

“Peter.”

“Alright. How about… ‘May I remind you I’m over eighteen?’” Peter looked up, eyebrows scrunched together. “He is over eighteen right?”

Scott nodded from where he stood by the couch.

“Yeah he is nineteen. Almost twenty.”

“I cannot believe this is happening.” Isaac groaned.

Derek looked up in time to see Isaac cover his face with his hands and go back to pacing the room. He could see the anxiety clearly in Isaac’s features.  

“Oh look, a response. ‘Just be smart and safe, kid.’ Problem solved.” Peter tossed the phone at the prone figure on the couch. Stiles didn’t stir, even as the phone landed on his chest with a thud.

Derek had pushed himself off the column when Peter tossed the phone. He was prepared for the human to wake up in panic. When he didn’t, Derek leaned back against the wood and turned to Peter.

“Someone explain to me what the hell happened. Why is the human-”

“Stiles. He had a name.”

Derek shot Lydia a look. She glared at him in turn.

“Why is Stiles in my loft?” Derek nearly growled, turning back towards Peter.

“Peter knocked him out.” Scott supplied quickly.

“In my defence, he came out of the house and spotted Scott. It’s not my fault Scott is a terrible werewolf.”

“You didn’t have to knock him out! I could have come up with an excuse or lie about being there.”

“Excuse me if I don’t trust your ability to form cohesive sentences under pressure. Need I remind you, you are a terrible liar.”

Derek let out a groan. The bickering continued despite how much Derek hoped it would stop. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wood.

“I am not a terrible liar!” Scott.

“You totally are.” Jackson.

“You have a tell.” Lydia.

“Shut up.” Scott again.

“Alright, alright. Enough. You are getting off track.” Boyd. Oh thank god for Boyd. He was more often than not the reasonable one of the group. Quiet but always watching and listening. Boyd reminded Derek a lot of himself.

“We need to decide what we want to do. Derek?”

Derek opened his eyes and surveyed his Pack. They were all looking at him.

Derek hadn’t wanted to be Alpha. He would have been perfectly satisfied as Laura’s beta. He could have easily lived his life following her orders. Laura had been the one training for the position. It had come so naturally for her. The thought of her made his heart ache. He shot Peter a glare. It didn’t matter that Peter didn’t know why Derek was really glaring at him, it just made Derek feel a little better. He had killed Peter for killing Laura. Peter had then found a way to come back, and Derek had slowly learned to work with his uncle. He couldn’t forgive Peter for killing Laura, not completely, but he tried not think about it too much now.

Derek needed Peter in his Pack. He was more experienced and knowledgeable than Derek was. Besides, it was better to have Peter as an ally than an enemy. He had seen Peter at his worst. He had no intention of being on the receiving end of that anymore. Peter and Derek didn’t always get along but they made a good team the majority of the time.

Derek was slowly learning to be a good Alpha. He had screwed it up with Jackson, who in turn went around as a Kanima for a while before dying and becoming an actual werewolf. He had also had a rough start with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. It wasn’t until Scott came along, despite having been bit by Peter, that Derek started to get his act together. After Scott, Malia had fallen into place with the Pack. She had done wonders for Peter. Peter continued to be an asshole, but he was less of a maniac killer.

“He is here. There isn’t much we can do about that now. He will eventually wake up and Scott will tell him everything.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You’re his friend.”

Scott nodded his understanding and Derek turned to Peter.

“And you-”

“Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?”

“Because it is your fault.”

“Yeah, your probably right.”

Derek growled at Peter.

A sharp intake of breathe caught Derek’s attention. He turned toward the couch. The figure on the couch was starting to move around. Everyone else seemed to have noticed it as well.

If a pin were to fall and hit the ground, it would easily be heard and not just because they were werewolves. An erratic heartbeat that reminded Derek of a rabbit filled his ears. Everyone’s focus was glued to the couch and the person laying on it.

Chapter Text

“Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?”

“Because it is your fault.”

“Yeah, your probably right.”

There was a growl. An actual growl. Was there a dog in the room?

Stiles was just beginning to come to. His head hurt and it took a minute for him to focus on the sound and voices around him. He could barely make out the words he was hearing. He knew what the words were but he couldn’t quite understand them as they were used.

He was laying on something warm and cushioned. Stiles figured out it was a couch relatively quickly. His fingers slid across the surface of the couch as he flexed his fingers to make sure he had all of them. The couch was definetly leather.

Stiles had just been kidnapped. And he was laying on a leather couch. The thought that went through his head caused his heart to beat erratically.

Was he about to be sold as a sex slave? Had he stumbled on an underground human trafficking group?

Stiles let out a groan.

Human trafficking werewolves. Now that was an odd thought.

“Stiles?”

Stiles recognized Scott’s voice instantly. His eyes shot open and he launched forward into a sitting position. Something moved from where it sat on his stomach to somewhere else on the couch. He didn’t think much of the object. He didn’t have time to.

Stiles immediately regretted the movement. A sharp pain shot through his head and neck. His hand threw to the back of his neck and he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited to the pain to pass.

The feeling of someone's hand on his arm pulled Stiles away from his pain. He jumped away from the touch, flailing his arms as he fell off of the couch. Scott was kneeling by the couch, a shocked and very much surprised expression on his face. Stiles didn’t really care though. The last time someone had touched him he had been knocked out.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Help how?” Stiles asked skeptically.

“I can- You just look like you are in pain.”

“So?”

“So? I can- nevermind. Here, let me help you up.”

Stiles shook his head and pushed himself farther away from the couch, sliding across the ground unceremoniously. The gravity or the situation hitting him as he sat there.

“Stiles-”

“You kidnapped me! What the hell, Scott?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Stiles scoffed.

Someone else cleared their throat and Stiles glanced around the room. There were other people. In the room. With him and Scott. He recognized Lydia, Jackson, Malia, and Isaac immediately.

“Please tell me what is going on, Scott. Please just tell me you aren’t part of a human trafficking ring and I’m not about to be shipped half-way around the world-”

“What? No! Stiles, what the hell?”

“Oh thank god.”

Stiles collapsed backward onto the floor. His head still hurt.

“Stiles?”

“Just give me a few moments to clear my head before you kill me.”

Stiles’ mind was running around in circles. It hurt to think but that never stopped his over attentive and hyperactive mind. Stiles had come to the conclusion that death was probably better than sex-trafficking anyway. Probably.

“Why would we kill you?”

Stiles shrugged. His shoulders slid against the ground uncomfortably.

“I don’t know. I don’t find myself kidnapping people on a daily basis.”

“I don’t do this on a daily basis.” Scott said defensively.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Stiles. Please just get off the floor and talk to me.”

Stiles sat up with an exasperated sigh. He knew he was being a little bit ridiculous, with the sighing and the unavoidable thoughts of Scott, his friend, killing him and burying him in the woods and his father finding his body and-. Stiles tried to stop himself from thinking too much.

“Alright, Scott. Tell me, where am I?”

Stiles watched Scott turn to look at the attractive brooking dark haired guy, who shook his head in response to some unspoken question. Scott turned back to Stiles and Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was doing his apology face. The stupid face that Stiles thought was adorable and annoying at the same time. The face that said ‘I’m sorry. I want to tell you but can’t.’

“Okay, fine. What do you want? Why was I knocked out? Why am I here? What the hell do you people want from me?” Stiles’ voice began to rise as he progressed through his questions. He was terrified.

Scott offered Stiles his hand, which Stiles ignored as he stood on his own.

“Well.” Stiles crossed his arms across his chest to keep his hands from shaking.

“Can you just please sit down. It will be easier to talk to you that way. Please, Stiles.” Scott added the last bit after Stiles raised his eyebrows at him.

Stiles raised his hands in defeat, not putting them down, and moved back toward the couch. He glanced around the room, all eyes were on him. It made him feel uncomfortable.

“Is this like an orgy thing? Because as much as much as I want to say I am all into that, I’m really not. Especially if the foreplay includes kidnapping unsuspecting bystanders from their houses.”

“Technically, you weren’t in your house.” Stiles’ attacker mumbled under his breath just loud enough for Stiles to catch it.

“Shut up, Peter.”

So his attacker’s name was Peter. Now that he thought about it, and thinking about it hurt, Scott had said that name outside of his house. Peter. What a douchy name. What a douchy werewolf.

“Alright, Scott. I’m sitting. Now talk.”

Stiles didn’t lean back against the couch. He thought about it. Thought about pretending not to be horrified and scared about being attacked and kidnapped.

“I didn’t want to get you involved, not yet at least. I- we- Alright I don’t know how to say this. Look, Peter shouldn’t have hit you, shouldn’t have knocked you out like that. I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation. I’m a werewolf. We all are- well, Lydia isn’t, she is a Banshee, and Jackson used to be a Kanima but yeah he is a werewolf now. We shift, not full shift- Derek can do a full shift but that’s not the point. Look, Stiles. I know this is all crazy. If I was in your place I wouldn’t believe a word I said either.” Scott was rambling. He wanted Stiles to understand, Stiles knew that. Scott had glanced at the talk, dark, hazel-eyed man who hadn’t said a thing since Stiles had woken up when he said the name ‘Derek’.

Stiles waited a beat before answering. Scott had just admitted to the thing Stiles was trying to convince himself he was crazy for thinking. It had been something he already knew. He believed in the supernatural, he did, but Stiles was half hoping he was wrong.

What was new information, was that Lydia was not a werewolf. Not that Stiles had thought she was, she looked too delicate for that. No. Delicate wasn’t the word. Lydia was intimidating but she didn’t scream werewolf like Scott did. He actually hadn’t thought about her being a supernatural creature at all really. Banshee. He would have to look that up if he lived through this. They screamed a lot, right? And what the heck was a Kanima?

Stiles could probably fake surprise if he wanted to. He could pretend he didn’t know. It would be easy considering he would only be half faking it. That would probably make Scott feel better. Right now though, Stiles just wanted to see Scott squirm.

“Okay” Stiles replied nonchalantly.

“Okay?” Scott’s eyebrows shot upward farther than should be physically possible.

“Yeah.” Stiles shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Stiles leaned back against the couch. He tried to relax. Werewolves were supposed to be able to smell fear and emotions and things so the least Stiles could do was pretend he wasn’t afraid. He plastered his face with an emotionless mask.

“That’s it?” Scott asked.

“What else did you want me to say?” He wondered what kind of outburst Scott had been expecting. Disbelief, sure. Maybe anger or a demand for proof? Probably sarcasm and wit. Those were Stiles’ usual go-to emotion hiders. He could still demand proof if he wanted. That would be cool. He wanted to see the shift. Stiles shut down his curious side. He was supposed to be upset with Scott for kidnapping him.

“I- I don’t know. I just figured you would be yelling, denying it, calling me crazy, or running away or something.” That answered his earlier thought.

“You watch too many cheesy television shows.” Stiles’ lips quirked up in a lopsided grin. Stiles couldn’t stop himself. He had never been good at hiding his emotions. “Besides, I kind of already knew.”

“You- what?”

“Yeah. I saw some pictures Matt took during practice and the flare where your eyes should be spiked my curiosity. Did a bit of research. Come on though, it’s not actually that hard to figure it out. Once you know what you are looking for it kind of screams at you in a very obvious, direct way.”

Scott had been stunned into silence.

“Alright, so he knows. Move on, Scott.” Stiles turned toward the voice that made his skin crawl. The man was sat on the spiral staircase, looking like he would rather be anywhere else but in the loft at that moment. Peter.

To spite Peter’s urge to hurry on, Stiles let his curiosity contribute. It was only to spite Peter though. Not because he just really wanted to ask a bunch of questions.

“Actually, I do have a couple questions. Werewolves exist, right, so do vampires exist? Fairies? And why the hell am I here?”

“That’s just ridiculous. Vampires? Really?” Peter was the one to speak first.

Where was this place anyway? It looked like an abandoned factory or apartment. Stiles did a quick look around the room as he replied.

“Come on. It’s not that far fetched. Werewolves are like the dogs of supernatural and where there are dogs there are cats. Vampires are the cats of the supernatural.”

“What?”

“Fangs, claws of death? Cats nocturnal nature, always looking like they want to kill the nearest human and all. Totally vampires. It would also explain why vampires and werewolves never get along in films and books. Cats versus dogs.”

The blonde girl tried to muffle her laughter before she began to outright cackle. Stiles figured that was Erica, one of the people Scott had wanted Stiles to meet. He assumed the other guy he didn’t know in the room was Boyd. Stiles now knew the names and faces of everyone in the room. When his father finally found him he could easily identify his kidnappers.

Stiles raised an eyebrow in her direction before turning back to Scott who had his jaw open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“I can’t do this. This is ridiculous.”

“If werewolves, banshees, and- what were those things? Kanimas? If they exist, why can’t vampires?”

“Because that’s just ridiculous.” The brooding guy spoke. His voice was deep and gravely and- Stiles turned to Scott ready to argue his point.

“Alright, enough. Get back on topic please.” Gloomy face- Derek, Stiles reminded himself- growled. He literally growled. Gloomy face wasn’t a very good nickname. In Stiles’ defence, if anyone were to criticize his inability to function at a normal capacity, he would remind everyone that he had been knocked over the head and kidnapped.

“Apologies. Please, carry on not explaining why the hell I am here.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Lydia is a banshee, she senses death.” The girl, Erica, chipped in rather quickly.  

Stiles raised his eyebrows to convey his question of what this had to do with him.

“She had a dream about you.” Scott supplied as if that answered Stiles’ question.

“Was it a kinky dream?” Stiles couldn’t help himself. “Was I being my most impressive and attractive self? Did I-”

“You were struggling to breathe.”

Lydia’s quiet and ominous tone broke Stiles from his playful and mildly inappropriate rant. He fell silent and turned toward her. She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. The lack of eye contact made him uneasy.

“You couldn’t breathe, and you were alone.”

“That’s every other Tuesday for me.” Stiles joked. Mostly joked. Nobody laughed and Scott had shot him a sad look.

Her eyes snapped up to his. She seemed to be studying him. Stiles changed his mind. He liked this conversation better without eye contact.

“You were dying.”

The thought of dying had never been his concern, but when someone else told him he was dying, Stiles’ heart sank. His mind went to his mother lying in the hospital bed then to his father who was constantly in the line of danger. His own death, though it scared him, had never crossed his mind as an actual worry.

Yet, here stood a girl he barely knew, but liked and had been joyed to be in the presence of at the ice skating rink, telling him that she had seen his death. There were probably millions of people in the world who wanted to know how they would die so they could try to prolong their lives and avoid death. Stiles had never thought about it and in normal circumstances he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But Lydia was a Banshee who apparently had the power to sense death. Had sensed his death. He didn’t know what being a Banshee meant or how serious he should take her. If she was willing to divulge information, he wasn’t going to turn her away.

“Describe it to me.” Stiles’ face was devoid of any emotion, his voice completely serious. At least, he hoped it was. He was trying his best to contain himself.

“You were alone- I don’t know where, everything was blurring together.”

Stiles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands supporting his chin, listening as she talked. Lydia paused, as if trying to remember it.

So it hadn’t been recent.

“You couldn’t focus on anything. Everything hurt, your heart was racing, you were shaking, your vision spotted. You-”

“Were having a panic attack.” Stiles provided for her. He was all too familiar with how those felt. How they wrecked havoc on his body and mind. How he felt pathetic every second he couldn’t catch his breath even as people told him to ‘just take deep breathes. Inhale and exhale slowly.’

Lydia nodded.

“Yeah. Someone came into the room and said your name, but you were afraid.”

Everyone's eyes were on Stiles, he could feel it, but he only nodded his head.

He leaned back on the couch and glanced around the room. From the looks that he got, Stiles was sure he was doing everything they didn’t expect him to do. He was quiet, understanding, and not freaking out. Yeah. Totally not freaking out. He would have to reward himself later for being so in control on his emotions in that moment.  

“When did you have the dream?” Stiles finally asked curiously. There was a pause, the entire room was silent.

Stiles watched Scott checked the date on his phone before speaking. “Three months ago?”

Scott turned to Lydia for confirmation. She nodded, reaffirming.

“Yeah.”

Stiles’ brows scrunched in thought. He had had panic attacks recently, but he didn’t recall a person. His father had walked in during one of those panic attacks, but Stiles wasn’t afraid of his dad. That had probably been it though, right? He stared at the floor, eyes widening at a realization. A smile plastered itself on his face and he stood, clapping his hands together.

“Crisis averted then. You guys are off the hook. Thanks for being concerned about my well-being and all.” Stiles patted his pockets looking for his phone to call his dad to come get him. He remembered the object that had been flung off of him when he had sat up on the couch. He did a quick search and pat down of the couch before he found his phone. Stiles turned toward the door, phone in hand.

Scott had scurried to his feet just in time to step in front of him, hand landing on Stiles’ shoulder, preventing him from leaving. It was then that Stiles realized other members of the kidnapping squad had also rushed to their feet, ready to stop him. All except their Derek, Stiles was starting to think he was the Alpha werewolf, who was brooding in a shadow against the wood column.

“Woah- woah. What do you mean, crisis averted?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott.

“Just as I said. Crisis averted. Do I need to say it in another way so you understand? Okay. Problem solved. Life saved. Death avoided. Re averteretur.” Stiles smiled at himself. He had even said it in Latin. His smile faded when he saw Scott’s dumbfounded and slightly irritated expression. “Panic attack already happened. You are out of the deep end. I’m not dead. Guess you misinterpreted the dream, vision, whatever you want to call it.” Stiles clarified. He wondered how many other ways he could come up with to say it. He was sure there was another way to say it in Latin. The gears in his brain started to turn and he almost missed the shocked expression on Scott’s face.

Stiles shook Scott’s hand off his shoulder before turning to Lydia.

“Have you had the dream since then?” Stiles did his best to prevent the hysteria from leaking into his voice as he spoke. He just wanted to go home.

Lydia shook her head. Stiles had been right about it not being a recent- vision or whatever she called them.

“See?” Stiles turned to Scott again. “Safe.” He then gestured to himself. He was in one piece. More or less.

Scott didn’t look to sure. Stiles watched Scott turn to Derek, probably hoping the Alpha had something to say on the matter. Stiles followed Scott’s eyes to Derek. The older man looked like he had bit into a sour lemon. He looked like a sour wolf. Stiles inwardly cheered. Sourwolf. He had come up with a better nickname. He had already dubbed Peter as ‘Psycho’ although he was leaning towards ‘Douchewolf’ as well, Scott as ‘Scotty,’ Lydia as ‘Goddess,” Jackson as ‘Jackass,” and now Derek as ‘Sourwolf.’ Stiles only needed a nickname for Malia, Erica, and Boyd.

“Derek?” Scott let the name fall out of his mouth like a question.

“Let him go.”

“Thank you.” Stiles said dramatically before moving to get around Scott.

“Derek.”

“If he wants to get himself killed, that’s not on us.”

“Yeah- Wait. Look, you can’t honestly think that I’m still in danger. It’s been three months for christ’s sake!”

Three months. It hit Stiles. And it hurt. Scott, Jackson, Lydia. They had all gotten close to him because of the Banshee’s dream. They had gotten to know Stiles because that’s what they were told to do. They were told to make friends and play nice with Stiles. They weren’t his friends. Scott had introduced Stiles to them in hopes of making it easier to stalk him.

The extra lacrosse practice from Jackson, Scott hanging out with him and walking with him to classes, Lydia at the ice skating rink. All of it had been just to watch him because he was a danger to the pack. An unknown factor, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.  

How could he have been so stupid?

Stiles let his face slip for a moment. When he realized his facade had fallen he straightened himself and his features. He wasn’t going to let this affect him right now.

What he couldn’t understand was why it mattered to them whether or not he died. He was a mere mortal human.

“Why do you care?” Stiles turned to confront their Alpha. “Why do you care whether I live or die?”

“Because I care.”

Stiles snapped his head toward Lydia.

“Like hell you do. Why does it really matter? What is the end goal for you all?”

Stiles looked around the room. Scott couldn’t even meet his eyes. None of them really seemed to know what they were doing. Stiles said as much.

“You don’t know what you are doing. You have no idea why you care or if you really care.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense.” Jackson was talking with his hands. Stiles had noticed Jackson did that a lot when he was stressed or mad about something.

“What doesn’t?” They were finally getting somewhere.

“The fact that she dreamt about you! It doesn’t make sense. You’re a human. Small, clumsy Stiles. No supernatural anything. Who the hell are you?”

Stiles inwardly cringed. He had been called small and clumsy before, it just seemed to hurt more coming from a werewolf.

“I’m Stiles.” Came the simple answer. He didn’t know any other way to answer that question.

“What are you, Stiles?”

Stiles took a step back as Peter stood up and walked toward him. Stiles took note of how Peter’s eyes were scanning him like a puzzled.

Peter’s eyes flashed a vibrant blue. Stiles took another step back.

“What are you, Stiles?” Peter growled out the question.

“Peter. Enough.”

Peter stopped mid step and Stiles let out a small breath of relief.

“I’m not anything.” Stiles answered finally.

The room was silent. Stiles didn’t know what to say. He was sure the others in the room felt the same way.

After what felt like too long Stiles began heading toward the door again. Scott made a move to grab his shoulder again but Stiles dodged out of the way. He had actually picked up on a few things from his extra practice.

Stiles didn’t want Scott to touch him like they were friends or buddies. Stiles didn’t want to be reminded of how fake everything had been.

“Scott, let him go.”

Stiles was thankful for Derek’s command although he would never admit it.

“Stiles, please wait.”

Stiles turned toward Lydia.

“Please don’t leave yet.”

Stiles wanted to walk over to her and hug her, she looked too sad. He could practically see the tears forming in her eyes.

“All of you just leave me the hell alone. Stay the hell away from me and my house. I swear to god if I catch one of you there I will call the cops.”

Stiles shook his head as he left the building.

He didn’t touch his phone until he was outside of the building and down the street. He had no idea where he was. It was already past eleven and he had class in the morning. He was definitely skipping it.

Stiles checked to see if his father had texted. Stiles groaned when he saw the text messages he had definitely not sent.

“God dammit. Assholes.”

Stiles pulled up his dad’s number and dialed it. It rang a couple times before going to voicemail. Stiles let out an aggravated noise before hanging up and dialing again. He repeated this a few times before deciding to leave a voicemail.

“Hey, dad. Look, I kind of need a ride. Scott and I got into a fight and I walked away. I don’t really know where I am. I think I’m still in Beacon Hills though. There is a quick mart or something on the corner- Can you just track me or something on my phone and come get me? Dad-”

The message cut off and the computerized lady told him to hang up or press one to hear his recording. He hung up and parked himself on a bench outside of the quick mart.

His father called him at about twelve.

“Stiles? Are you okay? What happened? Kid, talk to me.”

“I’m fine, dad. Just hurry up and get here. I’m cold, hungry, and tired. I just want to go to bed and never wake up.”

“I’m on my way, kid. Just hang tight.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Stiles waited in the dark. He still felt like he was being watched, and it pissed him off. It could have been a residual feeling, or hope that they did actually care.

Stiles laid his arms on his lap and laid his head against his forearms. He wanted to cry. He had finally made friends- thought he had made friends. He had finally felt like he wasn’t an outsider.

Stiles stayed like that until he heard a car pull up in front of him. He lifted his head to find his father’s familiar cruiser before him. Stiles stood and flung himself into the passenger seat of the car.

“Stiles-”

“I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“Okay, kid. I’m here if you need me.”

Stiles mustered a small smile before turning and leaning on the car window.

“I have to ask though, what the heck are you doing all the way out here at this time of night?”

“There was an orgy.”

Chapter Text

Stiles woke up the next morning feeling worse than he had going to bed. His head hurt and his stomach was doing flips. When the feeling got too much Stiles launched himself from his bed and to the toilet just in time to puke up his guts. He continued to retch when the contents of his stomach were entirely gone.

Stiles slumped over, leaning partially on the bathtub for support. He stayed there for five minutes before he felt strong enough to move back to his bed. He glanced at his phone, it was four in the afternoon. He hadn’t realized he had been tired enough to sleep that long. He had woken up a few times but had opted just to go back to sleep rather than get up.

When Stiles had gotten home last night, sometime after one in the morning, he had immediately hid in his room. He had crawled into bed, laid on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Stiles had wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Nothing happened. He had laid there in silence until he finally fell asleep.

His father had left at six-thirty that same morning. The sheriff had stuck his head into Stiles room at some point and asked him if he was okay. Stiles had grunted and his father left.

“I’m here if you need me, kid,” echoed through Stiles’ mind. He didn’t even know what to tell his dad. He had joked about the orgy thing last night in hopes that his father would see that Stiles was okay. To be honest, Stiles was pretty sure that his father thought he was still a virgin. His father had just shaken his head and gave him the ‘I know you aren’t okay’ look.

The phone in Stiles’ hand was spammed with calls and messages. Most of them were from Scott. He even got texts from numbers he didn’t have registered in his phone, but he assumed they were from the group of werewolves that had kidnapped him. The context of the text messages alluded to such.

They consisted of;

Stiles, I’m sorry. Please just talk to me.

Stiles, tell me what I can do to make it up to you.

We just want to help.

Stiles, answer your damn phone.

Your life could be at risk.

Stiles, at least talk to Scott.

It wasn’t his fault, he feels really bad about the whole thing.

You can’t tell anyone about what we are. Especially not your dad.

You weren’t at school or practice.

Danny missed you.

Stiles, just talk to me.

Stiles ignored them all. Every single one of them. He thought about turning the ‘send read receipts’ option on his phone to let them know he really didn’t care. He didn’t have the motivation to turn the setting on and read every message though. He deleted the entire conversations he had received and tossed his phone onto a pile of clothes on the floor. He knew they would just keep sending messages and calling. He thought about blocking their numbers but that would only push them to approach him in person faster.

Stiles just wanted some time to think about everything. To process everything on his own terms. He knew that eventually he would have to stop beating himself up for being so careless. It wasn’t like Scott and Stiles had a normal relationship. Scott was a werewolf. There was nothing normal about that. Stiles shouldn’t have been so trusting, so gullible. He just wanted to wallow at his own pity party for a few more hours.  

Stiles only got up to use the bathroom and venture into the kitchen for a snack. It had taken a few hours for his stomach to adjust after losing all its contents, but he was finally able to swallow half a sandwich.

Eventually Stiles turned on his laptop and check what he had missed in class and what assignments he needed to complete before his next class. Lucky for him he only missed two classes, one lecture orientated and easy to catch up with and the other his math class. He took notes on the chapter they were currently analyzing for one of the classes, a thing that should have only taken him half an hour but instead took him an hour and a half to do, and some notes and class work for his math class.

Stiles settled back on his bed, laptop resting on his lap, watching netflix. He couldn’t focus on the show, his eyes constantly found their way to where he had thrown his phone earlier that day. It had probably died by now and he would need it for tomorrow but he didn’t want to get up to charge it. So he left it where it was.

Stiles’ father got home around eight. Stiles had heard the cruiser pull up and a car door close. Despite the return of a family member, the house remained quiet. His father eventually made it up the stairs, stopping just outside of Stiles’ room. His father hesitated before knocking.

“Yeah?”

The door slid open a few inches and Stiles’ father poked his head in. Stiles had turned to greet him with a small smile.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Just needed a mental health day. I’m better. I’m sorry about last night.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to be better right away. I’m here if you need me or want to talk about anything. You know that, right?”

“Of course, dad.” Stiles did know. He just didn’t know how to go about telling his father any of this. If he mentioned the kidnapping his father would press charges or worse and if he mentioned the werewolf thing his father would tell him to get more sleep or stay away from the corny television shows.

“You can talk to me about anything. Whatever it is, kid. We can take care of it together.”

“Thank you, dad. I mean it. Last night was a mistake that never should have happened. It won’t happen again.”

“Look, I know you and Scott are going through some things right now,” Stiles watched his father sigh and push Stiles’ bedroom door open some more so he could lean against the doorframe comfortably. “But, you two had so much in common and so much fun together. I was so happy to see you so happy and content with life. I don’t want you to give up your happiness because of one mistake. That’s not saying you should just always forgive people but I trust you to be the judge of whether or not that mistake can be forgiven. I just wanted you to know that whatever you decide, however you decide to handle it, I will support it and I will support you. I love you and no mistake will change that.”

Stiles’ heart figuratively swelled in his chest. How had he been so lucky as to have this man as his father?

“Thank you. I love you too, dad.” Stiles’ choked out. He wasn’t going to cry.

His father had hesitated before he nodded and left Stiles to his own devices.

Stiles climbed out of bed to charge his phone. He placed it as far from his bed as possible so he didn’t get the urge to check every message that came in. Stiles shut down his laptop and crawled into bed with the intention of sleeping. Despite being comfortable and laying with his eyes closed, Stiles couldn’t fall asleep. He kicked off his sheets and stood in front of his window. He peeled open the blinds and searched the darkness for movement, for anything.

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees and the clouds moved across the sky messing with the lighting. Other than that, there was nothing. No one was there.

Stiles crawled back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. It hurt more than he thought it would.

What was he supposed to do? Accept Scott’s apology and help the pack of werewolves figure out why Stiles was in a Banshee’s dream? Were he and Scott even still friends? Were they ever really friends?

Stiles sat up, his blanket falling from his chest onto his hips.

He didn’t need to forgive Scott to try and figure this all out. He didn’t need to believe them to do some research.

Stiles made his way to his laptop and sat in his computer chair. His leg thumped against the ground subconsciously as he loaded google. Tomorrow during one of his gaps he could check out the library- the library. The little black book. Stiles spun around in his computer chair and rolled his way over to his night table where the little book had sat forgotten. He rolled back over to the computer and opened the book.

Stiles had made some progress on learning Latin. He could recognize and read certain words as well as pronounce them properly verbally. He quickly did a search on the word. Banshee was a Gaelic word and the Latin translation was no different from the original.

Stiles flipped through the black book. Stiles stopped when he found the word. Written underneath was a description of the creature and a drawing. The drawing captured the image of a woman with long flowing hair in a long dark dress. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was parted in a scream.

He understood the words ‘ens supernaturale’ which meant supernatural being, ‘mortem’ which meant death, ‘clamo’ which meant to scream or yell, ‘arma’ was weapon, and ‘telepathy’ which was the same as it was in English. There were probably a few others he could pick out.

Stiles pulled up Gaelic and Celtic mythology as well as Irish faeries of death on his laptop and read through pages and pages of information. He tried to connect certain pieces of information he gathered from the websites to the book. He used a translator from English to Latin and tried to find them in the book.

‘Harbingers of death,’ was one of the first connections he was able to make from a lore site to the book in his lap. ‘Keening scream’ was another connection. In all the written works he found on the topic, a banshee was said to have a piercing scream.

Stiles struggled to find more common information between his online sources and the little book.

According to the Irish, banshees were faeries that were tasked with the job of warning selected members of ancient Irish families of the time of their death. According the Celtic Christian religion in Ireland, they were called ‘fallen angels.’ According to other sources, a banshee was the spirit of a girl who died a brutal death and went around warning families that a violent death was on the horizon. Another stated that banshees wailed at people until they committed suicide or went insane because they derived pleasure from taking a life.

Nothing told him why a Banshee would be seeing his death. He wasn’t from an ancient Irish family or supernatural. He was just Stiles Stilinski, human.

Stiles called it a night and crawled back into bed. He was finally able to fall to sleep around ten-thirty. He dreamt of werewolves and banshees. Well, eight werewolves and one banshee in particular.

Stiles woke up to his alarm the next morning and hopped into the shower. After the shower Stiles got dressed and gathered his things for school.

His phone screen was filled with missed texts and calls when he first checked his phone. It was mostly the same type of messages as the ones he saw yesterday. He shoved his hand in his pocket and carried his bag downstairs. He  dropped the bag onto the floor before walking into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.”

“You have time this morning for breakfast?”

“Not really. I was just gonna grab a poptart or something and head out.”

His father nodded as he stirred his coffee.

Stiles opened a few cabinets before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out the poptart box and took the last one.

“Throw the box away, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled and complied, tossing the box into the trash. He walked over to his father who was leaning against the counter by the coffee machine. Stiles tugged his father’s coffee cup from his hands and took a couple gulps.

“Stiles! Get your own cup!”

“Mmm. I got to go. Thanks for the coffee!” Stiles took another couple gulps of the hot coffee before he placed the cup on the counter and took off out of the room. He grabbed his bag and tossed his stuff into his jeep.

The engine chugged a few times before it started up. He slid his hands from the top of the steering wheel to the sides and shifted the gear into reverse.

Stiles was a wreck by the time he pulled into a parking space at the college. He had plenty of time on the ride there to remind himself that he was going to be sitting alone today. That he didn’t have any friends to greet him or talk with him in between classes. He tried to also remind himself that he had been alone during his first semester. There was something about not having friends, then having friends and losing said friends.

Stiles hadn’t even decided if he wanted to go to lacrosse anymore. If he did go, it would just give Jackson, Scott, and Isaac a chance to watch him. If he didn’t go, Danny would be very upset with him and he would miss an activity he actually enjoyed.

Stiles sighed and pushed the thought away for later. He had classes to attend and work to do. Stiles slung his bag over his shoulder and dragged his feet all the way to his first class. He had taken an extra adderall before he had gotten out of his jeep hoping it would help him focus more in class. It didn’t. Not really. He fidgeted with his pencil the entire time, much to the annoyance of his neighbor. She continued to shoot him glares and he would stop for a minute before not fidgeting became unbearable.

Stiles nearly bolted from his seat at the end of class. He wanted to get to the library before he ran into Scott or anybody else.

“Stiles!”

Stiles forced himself to keep moving.

“Stiles!”

A hand wrapped around his arm and gently pulled him to a stop. Stiles turned around to face Lydia. Her hand was still wrapped around his arm as if she were afraid he would run off the second she let go. He probably would have.

“Stiles, please. Can we just talk?”

“I have class-”

“No you don’t. Stiles, please.”

“Lydia, I don’t want to talk.”

“You need to let me explain. Please.”

“Fine. Explain.”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Stiles watched Lydia look around. Students were passing them by with little to no interest in what was going on. Her nervous behavior spiked his own nervous tendencies and Stiles caved.

“Fine. Follow me.”

Lydia released his arm and Stiles was suddenly very aware of how much he actually liked the contact. It was a friendly and concerned gesture. Stiles rubbed his arm at the lack of contact and shifted his bag.

Stiles led Lydia to the library and toward the back of the library where his ‘too close to tell’ section waited for his arrival. Stiles ran his fingers across the bookshelf as they passed it and plopped himself in his favorite chair. Stiles turned toward Lydia who had opted to stand with her arms crossed over her chest just a few feet away from him. Stiles didn’t say anything, he just waited until Lydia spoke.

“It wasn’t Scott’s fault. He honestly likes you, we all do-”

Stiles scoffed and shook his head.

“I’m serious. We weren’t- I wasn’t expecting you to be so likeable.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean? That because I opted to spend my time in the company of myself I was a self-centered jackass who looked down on the people around me? What the hell did you think, Lydia? Because apparently this is all about what you guys think and how you guys feel and I’m just supposed to suddenly be okay with everything.”

“No one is expecting you to be okay with any of this, Stiles. But you knew about the werewolves. Why didn’t you say anything? If we had known you knew, we would be having a totally different conversation right now.”

“Yeah. Good idea. Bring up the supernatural concept of werewolves to a group of people I hardly know and see how that goes. No! That’s how you get sent to Eichen house or told that you need to change your meds because your ADHD is out of control and creating things that aren’t really there!” Stiles shook his head. He shouldn’t have raised his voice so much. He glanced around the library but no one seemed to give them too much attention.

“We want to help you. That was what we were trying to do.” Lydia ignored his little outburst.

“You and I have two totally different definitions of ‘help.’ You see, where you think ‘help’ is to stalk someone in order to gain insight and gauge the threat they may pose on one's self and pack, I consider ‘help’ to assist someone or offer aid of some sort.”

“Stiles.”

Under normal circumstances, the way Lydia growled his name would have been an attractive thing. In that moment however, it only grated on his nerves how familiar it sounded coming out of her mouth.

Stiles glanced down at his phone.

“You have about two minutes to say something interesting before I walk out of here.”

Stiles hated being rude. He was sarcastic, yes. Rude? Maybe sometimes. But he didn’t like being rude. He was trying to get his point across.

They needed him more than he needed them.

At least that was how he liked to look at it.

“We can help each other, Stiles. You help me figure out why I dreamt of you, and we protect you.”

Stiles couldn’t argue that it wasn’t a good plan. Any plan where he was alive was a good plan. There was the possibility that he was actually in no danger at all, but Lydia had still dreamt of him. He was better safe than sorry.

Stiles was going to sit on the proposition for a few more minutes. He had other questions and concerns that needed to be addressed.

“Lydia, what do you actually know about banshees?”

She blinked at him with an affronted expression on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her about that.

“Their harbingers of death. I’m drawn to bodies and supernatural creatures.”

“And you scream?”

“And I scream. Really loud.”

Stiles chuckled to himself. That would have made for a good sex joke. Stiles cleared his throat and tried to focus a moment later when Lydia scowled at him. Her face softened quickly after he sobered up.

“Scott really wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything, Stiles. None of us were. I really do consider you a friend.”

Stiles remained silent. He didn’t know what to say to her. He wanted his friends, the people he had gotten to know. He wasn’t sure if the offer to be friends would still be there after they figured everything out.

“Do you remember the day at the ice skating rink?” She asked him.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded. How could he forget it? It had been the most fun he had had in awhile.

“That had been the first time I went skating in years. I wasn’t so sure I would enjoy it, but I did. I had a really good time. It wasn’t just because I got to go skating again, Stiles. You being there helped. I didn’t do any of that because I had to. I hung out with you because I wanted to and because you are fun to be around. So please stop this.”

Stiles ignored her pleas and his own urge to stand up and hug her. He wanted to be angry with them. He wasn’t ready to forgive his kidnappers. Stiles ignored what she said and changed the subject back to her earlier proposition.

“Alright. I’m smart enough to know working together as a team might actually get this thing going faster and then we can get out of eachother’s lives.”

“Stiles.”

“Lydia. I can’t just forgive you guys. I was kidnapped.”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“Kidnapped. Knocked over the head. Should I say it in another language? Rapta.”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Fine. How do you want to do this?”

“We can meet here-”

“No can do. I can only make it to this campus on occasion. We will have to meet somewhere else.”

“Okay… So, suggestions?”

Stiles could tell that Lydia was pretending to think. She knew exactly where she wanted to meet. He has a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

“How about the loft?”

He didn’t like it. Nope.

“Your secret werewolf lair that you bring your kidnap victims to?”

“It’s not a secret lair. It’s our home. It’s convenient, the pack is there and they can put in input. Peter-”

“My attacker.”

“Peter isn’t always that bad. He used to be but he is better now.”

“Uh huh.”

Lydia gave him a look and Stiles caved.

Sighing, he responded.

“Fine. We will meet at the loft. Give me the address. I’m never going anywhere with you guys again without an address and idea of where it is.”

Stiles pulled out a random notebook and pencil for Lydia. She leaned over the table, pushing her hair over one shoulder so it wasn’t dropping in from of her face as she wrote, and scribbled the address on a piece of paper.

“There. You can meet me there tomorrow after your classes.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Stiles.”

Stiles waved his hand lazily as Lydia turned on her heel and walked away. Stiles watched her leave from the corner of his eye. When she was gone, he pulled the little black book from his bag. He turned to the page on banshees and continued to try to translate the writing on the page. The more he knew about everything the better.

He was going to be walking into the wolf den tomorrow. He would be severely outnumbered and outfanged. Maybe he should bring a weapon. There was no way his father would let him borrow a gun. Maybe he could bring a tire iron or wrench. Those were conveniently in his jeep for incidents where it broke down on the road. Those were a bit too obvious and barbaric though.

He should get himself a bat. A bat would be good. Not a wooden one, he had seen video of how easily those could break with the right amount of force. He should get a metal one. It was decided. After practice today, Stiles would go and buy a metal bat.

Stiles hadn’t really decided if he was actually going to practice. He didn’t want to ditch Danny and the team just because he was having issues with three of the players. He couldn’t really skip or drop out because of that. Besides, he loved lacrosse. It had helped him during his very socially awkward phase in high school. It was decided, he would still go to practice. If Scott, Jackson, or Isaac gave him trouble or harassed him he could just fake an injury and limp his way off the field. Coach couldn’t make him play or practice if he was injured.

Stiles dragged himself to practice. Scott, Jackson, Danny, Greenberg, and a few other players were already there. Stiles dropped his bag at the edge of the field and began stretching. Scott didn’t approach him right away, but Stiles could feel Scott watching him.

Stiles sighed and lifted his head up and toward where Scott was standing. Scott was watching him, an unsure look clear on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Scott. Stop staring. If you want to say something, say it.” Stiles mumbled under his breath as he continued to stretch. Scott shifted uncomfortably before finally walking over to Stiles.

Stiles didn’t say anything and Scott shifted uncomfortably before speaking.

“I heard you talked to Lydia.”

“”I did.”

“And you are coming to the loft tomorrow?”

“I am.”

A silence fell and the atmosphere of the situation made Stiles feel uncomfortable.

“So-”

“I’m not going as a friend, Scott. I haven’t forgiven you.” Stiles stopped stretching and made eye contact with Scott. “You kidnapped me, lied to me, pretended to be my friend-”

“I wasn’t pretending, Stiles. I-”

“Do not interrupt me right now, Scott. I was stupid and gullible before. I’m only going to see if Lydia and I can figure this all out. Then I’m done.” Stiles was expecting Scott to have an outburst. Instead, Scott just looked hurt. Scott looked like a kicked puppy. His lips were slightly gaped apart, his brow was furrowed and drawn together. A minute later Scott’s face went lax and he nodded.

“I understand.”

Stiles watched Scott walk away.

When Coach finally arrived at practice, he called everybody together. Stiles stood by the front so he didn’t have to look at Scott or anyone else.

“Alright, listen up! We have our first game next week. I expect great things from all of you. Except you, Greenberg. I don’t really ever expect anything from you. I don’t even really know why you are even on the team. Anyway, I expect you all to be practicing, honing your skills, etcetera. Feel free to run them into the ground, Jackson.”

With that Coach wandered away and Jackson took over the practice. Jackson had everyone stretching in order to prepare for a mock game. When he deemed everyone ready, Jackson split everybody into teams while he opted out to play referee. Scott and Stiles were on opposite teams, which Stiles enjoyed. It gave him a chance to bump and knock Scott to the ground when he had the ball or was going after one of his teammates.

If Scott was playing with his inhuman strength, Stiles would have not been able to knock Scott down. Stiles rammed his shoulder into Scott’s for the final time. Rather than Scott just going down, Stiles lossed his balance and the two of them went down together.

They hit the ground and Jackson called an end to the game when Greenberg scored for Scott’s team. Neither of them made a move to get up. Stiles was breathing through his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. A smiled crept across his face. He had knocked Scott down five times during the game.

“Feel any better?”

Scott had turned his head toward Stiles. Stiles reciprocated the position.

“Yes, actually. Knocking you onto your ass actually helped.”

Stiles did actually feel a bit better. He hadn’t had the urge to punch Scott in his face, but Stiles couldn’t deny that a little bit of constructive, forceful, physical contact actually helped.

“Anytime.”

“Are you offering to be my personal punching bag?”

“I screwed up, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Stiles sat up and Scott followed him. When they were both standing, Stiles turned toward Scott.

“I know.”

“Are you still mad?”

“Furious. But I won’t be filing charges anytime soon.”

“What did you tell your dad? About that night I mean.”

“That I went to an orgy.”

Scott went pale and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Lucky for you, my dad never believes me.”

Scott visibly relaxed and let out a sigh of relief.

“Stiles, I will do anything to make it up to you. I really like being your friend. Please let me try and fix this.”

Stiles glanced around himself. Jackson and Isaac were standing a little bit away, out of eavesdropping range for normal humans but not werewolves. Isaac was tilting his head slightly. Stiles groaned and slid his hand down his face.

“Can you guys be any more obvious?”

Isaac snapped his head up and made eye contact. Isaac looked sheepish at the realization that he had been caught. Jackson just turned toward Stiles and smirked.

“I hate werewolves.”

“Do you-”

“Shut up, Scott. I don’t really mean it. I don’t care that you are a werewolf. It doesn’t matter to me. The eavesdropping though? Really?”

Stiles hadn’t realized that Scott had tensed when he said he hated werewolves, not until Scott relaxed at least.

“So will you let me try and fix this?”

Stiles gave Scott a side glance. The young werewolf looked so hopeful. His eyes were bright and opened earnestly. Scott waited silently for Stiles’ reply.

“Sure. I’ve got nothing to lose. You already stripped me of my dignity and trust.”

Scott flinched at Stiles’ words, the light in his eyes dulling and fogging over with regret.

“Thank you.”

Stiles nodded.

Jackson called the team back together and began running drills. Jackson continued to pester and run Stiles harder than anyone else like he did before the incident. Stiles was hoping he would be a little more lenient and remorseful about the whole thing. Jackson’s response to Stiles’ muttered thoughts was, “I wasn’t the one creeping outside your house. I also didn’t knock you out and drag you to the loft. Why in the hell should I be sorry?”

Stiles had conceded and decided that he was okay with Jackson. Jackson had never actually pretended to be nice to make friends with Stiles, he hadn’t pretended he wasn’t an asshole, and he hadn’t knocked him out and kidnapped him. Sure, Jackson was an accessory to the crime, but Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson thought kidnapping him was too much effort. It wasn’t something that Jackson had been privy to. So Jackson was okay.

Going by that logic he should be okay with Malia and Isaac as well. As far as he knew, they hadn’t actually been in on the kidnapping plan either. Stiles decided they were okay too.

It was a relief knowing he didn’t have to be mad at so many people. It was less stressful. He only had to be mad at Peter, Derek, Lydia, and Scott. He was already on his way to forgiving Lydia and Scott. It was progress and it made him feel better.

Claudia would be proud of him. She was never one for holding grudges or hating people. She had told him that while one may not be able to control how another person acted or what they said, one could control how they reacted to it all. Stiles smiled at the thought of his mother. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

She would have believed him. If he told her about the supernatural. She would have believed him and he would have had someone to talk to about all of this. Stiles glanced at his jeep.

Jackson yelled his name and Stiles snapped away from thoughts of his mom.

“Stilinski! Get your head in the game.”

Stiles chuckled at the High School Musical reference that Jackson probably didn’t know he made.

Chapter Text

Stiles was sitting in his jeep outside the creepy abandoned building. It wasn’t really abandoned. Scott’s pack lived there. Was it okay to call it Scott’s pack? Was he supposed to call it Derek’s pack since he’s the alpha? Is there a specific guide of rules and regulations he should be following when dealing with a pack?

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He actually didn’t know anything about werewolf pack dynamics. He knew about regular dogs and wolves, but did those same rules apply? He was about to walk into a werewolf den with minimal information. What kind of alpha was Derek? Who was his second? How was Lydia a part of the pack when she wasn’t a werewolf?

Stiles had so many questions.

Was it impolite to ask such questions?

It was definitely impolite to kidnap someone and they hadn’t seemed too troubled by that.

Stiles tightened and loosened his hands on the steering wheel repeatedly. He was gathering himself to enter the building. He barely remembered this area from the incident. Everything looked so different in the the light of day versus the dark.

Stiles glanced at the metal bat in the back seat of his jeep. He had actually gone out and bought one. He hadn’t considered the fact that he wouldn’t actually be able to bring it inside with him. It would be rude to insult the host.

Stiles finally convinced himself to get out of the jeep and head inside. The thought that drove him to action was the fact that they were werewolves and could probably hear his heartbeat from inside. He didn’t want them to think he was afraid.

Stiles made his way up the flights of stairs. Lydia had given him the details on how to find the loft. He hesitated by the door before rapping his knuckles against it. The door opened almost immediately and Stiles took a step back. Scott stood on the other side of the door.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They stood there for a while staring at eachother. They hadn’t spoken much at practice and Stiles had purposefully taken his time when leaving the school. He had waited until everyone else had left.

“Hey, Bashful,  why don’t you let him in?” A sultry voice teased. It took Stiles a minute to recognize the voice. When he did, he didn’t think it was so sultry anymore.

Scott blinked before opening the door further open. His arm swung in a gesture of welcome as he stepped aside.

Stiles muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and shuffled inside with his hands tucked in his jean pockets. He entered the loft and it immediately felt like he had just woken up on the couch again. Everybody was there. All eyes were on him. Stiles reminded himself that he was here by his own volition.

Stiles surveyed the room and everybody in it. The room itself hadn’t changed and the people themselves hadn’t either. Their alpha was glaring at him and Stiles couldn’t help but feel hurt at the open hostility. Isaac gave him a sheepish smile, Jackson didn’t even bother looking up from his phone when Stiles entered, Malia was standing by the spiral staircase with his psychotic kidnapper, Erica’s eyes were scanning his body up and down while leaning on Boyd, and Lydia was making her way towards him.

“Stiles. You already know Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Malia. The rest of them didn’t get the chance to properly introduce themselves.”

Stiles was about to protest. He already knew their names, he had a good memory, and didn’t want to get to know any of them right now. However the blonde, curly haired girl snapped herself off the couch and was before him in a matter of seconds.

“I’m Erica.” She purred her own name. The entire thing made Stiles uncomfortable. She was very attractive, but she was flirting with her boyfriend just feet away.

“Stiles.”

Erica’s lips curled up into a calculating smile.

“I know.”

“Good for you.”

Her smile only seemed to grow.

“I’m glad we could officially meet. After the whole misunderstanding from before-”

“Misunderstanding?” That’s what she was calling it? “Kidnapping.” Stiles corrected.

“Tomato, tomahto. You are much more attractive when you aren’t freaking out.”

Stiles gaped at her.

“Erica. Enough.”

Stiles snapped his jaw shut and glanced over to their alpha. His facial features hadn’t changed. He was still brooding, his muscled arms crossed over his chest in a power stance.

“I’m Boyd. Sorry about Erica. She has no filter.”

“Oh like you don’t enjoy it.” She scoffed.

Boyd offered Stiles his hand and Stiles tentatively shook it. It wasn’t a bone crushing handshake like he was expecting.

Lydia stepped forward and stood at Stiles’ side.

“That is Peter-” She gestured over to where Peter and Malia were conversing among themselves. “And that is our alpha, Derek.”

Derek remained silent but his eyes scanned Stiles.

Stiles shifted uncomfortable.

“Do you want to go into the kitchen?” Lydia gestured toward the open wall where the kitchen was. It wouldn’t give them much privacy to work on anything but Stiles nodded anyway. Anything was better than the center of the loft under the scrutiny of judgy werewolves. Although Scott looked like he wanted to follow. He probably would have if Derek hadn’t called his name.

“Scott. Stay.”

Stiles wanted to laugh. It was like talking to a dog. He wondered if it would be possible to teach them sit and roll-over. Did werewolves like cooing voices and treats?

Stiles followed Lydia into the kitchen. When she stopped at the island in the kitchen, Stiles swung his bag off his shoulder and onto the counter.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t think he could stomach anything right now. His stomach was doing somersaults. He was pretty sure that anything that went down would just come back up.

“No thanks. I’m fine.”

Lydia nodded and took a seat on one of the stools placed by the center island counter. Stiles took a seat across from her.

“So what do you already know?” She asked.

Stiles glanced at the center of the loft. Most of the pack had dispersed and were talking quietly amongst themselves but he could occasionally feel their eyes on him.

“Don’t worry about them. They don’t bite- Well, they won’t bite.”

“Good to know.” Stiles mumbled before turning back to Lydia. “What do I already know about what?”

“The supernatural.”

“I don’t know. A few things I guess. I did some research of my own. Kind of how I figured out werewolves existed.”

“Is there anything you want to know?”

“Are you even allowed to tell me? I’m a stranger afterall.”

Lydia glanced over his shoulder and Stiles followed her movement. She was looking at her alpha. Stiles turned back to Lydia.

“It’s fine. We can just focus on the problem at hand. I’m not gonna ask anything personal or pack related.”

Lydia nodded and Stiles focused on what he had learned.

“So banshees sense the supernatural, but I’m not supernatural. Like- at all. So something supernatural must have interacted with me at some point.”

Lydia’s face seemed to lift at an idea and Stiles waited for her to share.

“Do you know if you may have ever interacted with a really old tree stump as a kid? It would have been very large, deep in the woods in the center of a small clearing.”

Stiles frowned. A large tree stump? It didn’t ring any bells. He shook his head and her face fell.

“I don’t think so. That sounds like something I would remember.”

“Unless something took the memory from you.” Stiles jumped from the stool. Peter had made his way quietly into the kitchen and had been listening to their conversation.

“Calm down, Thumper. The big bad wolf isn’t going to eat you.”

Stiles glared at Peter.

“Someone let Ren off his leash.”

“Ren?’ Lydia gave him a puzzled look.

“Ren from Ren & Stimpy ? Oh come on. Ren is a psychotic chihuahua, Stimpy is a minx. Nothing? It was a 90’s cartoon. How have you not seen this?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and turned back to Peter.

“You said something about taking a memory?”

“Nuh-uh. I never agreed to work with him.” Stiles shook his head at the intruder.

“I’m trying to help solve this mystery.”

“Oh, sorry, Scooby Doo. Please. Carry on.”

“One more dog joke-”

“And what? You’ll knock me out and kidnap me again?”

Peter growled.

“Stiles. Peter knows more about the supernatural than any of us. You don’t have to trust or like him to let him help.”

Stiles should have been terrified of Peter. Especially with the stink-eye Peter was currently giving him. He was a bit scared, but he didn’t actually think Peter would hurt him.

“Fine” Stiles grumbled and sat back down on the stool.

“You guys okay?” Scott asked. He looked nervous to enter the kitchen but he looked like he wanted to be there.

“Peachy. Scott, why don’t you join us?” Stiles asked with a tight smile on his face. He would feel better working with Peter if Scott was there. Scott would definitely protect him if the psychotic kidnapper lashed out.

“Peter.” Lydia pushed the older man to share the information he knew.

“Remember Talia’s claws? How she used them to remove my memory of being a father?”

Lydia nodded and Stiles raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t something he had known werewolves could do.

Peter seemed to understand what Stiles was thinking.

“It’s a memory manipulation ritual that alpha werewolves can do.”

“So if your alpha, Derek suddenly decided he didn’t want me to know any of this, he could take away my memory?”

Peter shrugged.

“Aren’t you supposed to know all of this stuff?” Stiles asked in exasperation.

“I’m not an alpha.” Peter snarled. “I was for a brief time but even I can’t figure something like that out in just a matter of days.”

Stiles had the urge to ask Peter more. How had be been an alpha before? Stiles kept his mouth shut though. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and fiddled with the hem of his shirt to prevent himself from pushing the limits of their relationship.

“Okay. So could another alpha werewolf have done that to Stiles?”

“Why would another alpha werewolf even bother with me?”

“My thoughts exactly. No, I don’t think it was another werewolf. But maybe another supernatural creature.”

Stiles tried not to take offense at how quickly the agreement came.

“Like?” Lydia pushed. Stiles was glad to have her here. She was smart and got stuff done.

“I don’t know. If we had the Hale bestiary we might be able to figure something out though.”

The Hale name sounded familiar to Stiles but in that moment he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“A bestiary?” He asked.

“It’s a book that catalogs all the supernatural creatures the pack has encountered over the years since it was formed. It’s a good reference for emissaries and the pack. Hunters have them as well, but for different reasons.”

Stiles thought about the little black book in his bag. He had brought it with the intention of showing it to Lydia. He didn’t know if it was such a good idea now. If it was indeed the Hale bestiary they might accuse him of stealing it.

“What’s an emissary?” Stiles asked instead.

“Emissaries work with packs as diplomatic representatives. It’s pack politics. One emissary per pack.”

“So, who's your emissary?” Stiles drew out the ‘so’ when he asked.

“We don’t have one.” Lydia answered slowly.

“Oh.”

“Back to the topic at hand. I can retrieve the bestiary from the old Hale house.”

The realization hit Stiles and he had to keep himself from making a display of it. The old Hale house. That’s why it had sounded so familiar. The Hale fire. It had killed several people and burned the entire house to the ground. His father had been given the case despite years of no leads. It was a cold case.

“Why don’t we just borrow Allison’s?” Scott hadn’t said anything since Stiles invited him to stay in the kitchen with them.

“Who’s Allison?” Stiles asked. Another name to add to his list.

“She’s-” Scott hesitated. Stiles couldn’t help but notice that there must have been a lot of history between Scott and Allison.

“She is a hunter.”

“A hunter?” They had mentioned it earlier, and Stiles knew what a hunter was, he wasn’t asking for clarification of what one was. The word had slipped out of his mouth while he was thinking. The articles he read a while back were written by a hunter. The descendant of the Largent’s. They went by Argent now. Could Allison be related to them? If so, Stiles had a lot of questions for her.

“They hunt supernatural creatures and kill them.”

“I know what a hunter is.” Stiles’ comment went unheard as Scott glared at Peter.

“Allison changed that, Peter.”

“Sure. Change a motto and suddenly everything is fine.”

Scott growled.

Stiles suddenly didn’t feel so safe with the two of them in the same room.

“I could give her a call?” Isaac appeared in the kitchen and Stiles inwardly cursed their wolf senses and abilities. Isaac was looking at Scott. His eyes were timid and his face expressed submissive qualities.

So, definitely some history there.

Scott nodded after a second and Isaac left the room, assumably to make the call.

Stiles was surprised how much drama was involved when it came to werewolves. They had family issues, girl issues, supernatural monster issues, and he was sure there were a number of other things. And he had thought high school was bad.

“This would make a great tv show.” Stiles muttered under his breath. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. ADHD at work here. So, what does the Hale bestiary look like?”

“A laptop.”

“A book that looks like a laptop?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s on a laptop. I transfered the data as a failsafe.”

Stiles had to give Peter some credit, the laptop was a smart idea. The fact that the Hale bestiary was saved on a laptop made Stiles feel better about the little black book.

“Alright, so I found this-” Stiles pulled the small book from his bag and laid it on the counter in front of him. Peter and Lydia were watching him carefully, eyes widening at the sight of the book. Scott just looked confused. “At the college library. It helped me figure things out. It has werewolves, kanimas, banshees, druids, chimera, and other things I couldn’t quite translate yet.”

“You found a bestiary just lying around?” Lydia held out her hand. “May I?”

Stiles nodded and handed the book to her. He was nervous about about sharing his secret. It had been his advantage over the supernatural. Stiles figured sooner or later he would have to begin to trust them.

“What are you?” Peter scanned Stiles incredulously.

“I don’t like you.” Was Stiles’ only response.

After watching Lydia flip through the book for a few minutes Stiles became rather bored. Nothing was worse than sitting in complete silence while someone else flipped through the pages of his book.

“Do you know Latin?” He asked.

“No. Do you?” Lydia’s eyes met his own.

“A little bit. I’m teaching myself.”

“So you can read this?” She looked hopeful.

“Parts of it. I haven’t translated the whole thing yet.”

“Anything about memories?”

“Uh. No. I think I would have mentioned it if I had read it somewhere in there.”

Lydia handed him back the book.

“So translate it.”

Stiles took the book but shook his head.

“It’s not that simple. I’m slowly learning the language in order to translate it. If you want it done quickly you need someone who already reads Latin.”

Lydia’s face fell and Stiles didn’t like the feeling it sparked in his chest.

“We could ask Deaton.” Scott suggested.

Stiles sighed and laid his forehead against the counter. There were too many people and names.

“Who is Deaton?” Stiles asked in a rather defeated manner, his head still against the cold counter top.

“He’s my boss.”

“The vet? The vet can read Latin?” Stiles lifted his head up.

“Yeah. But he isn’t just a vet. He’s a druid.”

“Is there anyone in your life that isn’t kin to the supernatural?”

“My mom.” Scott smiled gleefully. “She knows, though”

“Yeah, but you are related to her. So that doesn’t count.”

“Oh. Then anyone at school really.”

“It was also a rhetorical question.”

Scott blinked at him, mouth agape.

“I knew that.”

“Can we focus here?” Lydia sighed in exasperation.

“Sorry.” Scott and Stiles mumbled together.

“So we take the book to Deaton-”

“I’d like to keep it with me, if that’s okay. I want to continue translating it one my own.” Stiles didn’t mention that he didn’t really trust anyone alone with his book. He was worried that if they walked off with it, he would never see it again.

“Okay. Fine. We copy the book and give that to Deaton. That is, if he is willing to help us.”

“He will help.” Scott nodded in reassurance.

“I’ll copy it tomorrow and give it to you at practice.” Stiles addressed Scott, who nodded. Then Stiles turned to Lydia. “Can we talk about your dream, now?”

“We already talked about that.”

“You explained what happened in the dream, yes, but we didn’t really talk about why. The tree thing, you asked about that because it’s supernatural, right?” Lydia nodded and Stiles carried on. “You think that if I interacted with a supernatural being or object or whatever, that it would explain why a banshee had dreamt about me?” Lydia nodded again. “What if it’s none of the above?”

Stiles scanned the faces of the people in the room. Scott broke the silence.

“That’s not possible.”

“For supernatural creatures you guys sure are closed-minded.”

“We’re all works in progress.”

Stiles turned toward Peter. Sometimes it was scary how reasonable the psychotic wolf could sound; and Stiles didn’t even really know him.

“But what if it is none of the above? We should keep our options open.” Stiles caught Scott scratching his head in the corner of his eyes and a thought sparked. “Alright, going off topic here.” Stiles turned his body toward Scott. “You may have confirmed to me that your are in fact a werewolf but I haven’t seen any proof- Not that I don’t believe it without proof, but come on. My curiosity is going to kill me. Can you show me?”

“You want me to shift?”

“Yeah.”

Scott’s hesitation made Stiles raise an eyebrow.

“Do you not have it under control? Are you going to wolf-out and start attacking me?”

“No! Why does everything with you turn to violence?”

Stiles shrugged. He looked hopefully at Scott. Scott eventually caved.

“Fine. If you scream, it’s your own fault.”

“Please. I’m not gonna scream. If anything I’ll throw up.” Stiles smiled smugly at the noise of disgust Peter made somewhere behind him.

Scott shifted. It was an odd thing to watch. Claws dragged themselves from underneath his cuticles, hair grew down Scott’s face like sideburns, his face morphed to one more of a feral animalistic nature, his ears transformed from the normal-human round to end in a point, his teeth elongated and sharpened, and his eyes shifted to a golden hue.

The entire loft was quiet.  

“Huh.” The noise comes out of Stiles before he could stop himself.

“What?” Scott looked almost offended by the reaction.

“I don’t know. I was expecting The Big Bad Wolf or The Wolfman . Underworld was even a possible expectation.”

“I feel like I’ve just been insulted.”

Stiles waved his hands in front of Scott.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are undeniably a werewolf. A great looking werewolf. Very attractive and in no way any less of a werewolf than the ones in movies and I’m gonna shut up now.”

Scott huffed a laugh and shifted back.

Watching the transformation was definitely a skin crawling experience. Stiles could only imagine what it felt like for Scott.

“Does it hurt? The shift I mean.”

“No, not really. The first couple times I was terrified of losing control and it made the shift worse. But I found an anchor and it became easier to control it.”

“How about a full-shift? What’s that like?”

“Derek’s the only one I’ve known to be able to do it-”

“It’s none of his business.”

Stiles spun around on the stool.

“What is it with werewolves and their inability to enter a room like a normal person?”

Derek Hale, alpha of this pack of misfits, stood a few feet away from Stiles. The older werewolf was scowling with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Stiles swept his eyes over the man. He was definitely attractive. Stiles wondered if Derek did modeling on the side in order to pay for such a large living space.

Stiles turned back to Lydia when Derek said nothing. Such a sourwolf.

“Alright, Lydia. What’s the plan?”

“Hey, guys-” Isaac stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Derek standing in the kitchen with everyone. He was pretty sure it was Scott’s eyeroll that got Isaac back on track. “Uh. I called Allison. She said we can use the bestiary but Peter isn’t allowed to touch it.”

“How long is it going to take for you people to trust me?” Peter growled.

“I’m gonna go and pick it up now.” Isaac glanced at Derek who gave him a nod of approval and Isaac began heading out of the loft.

“Okay. Thank you, Isaac.” Lydia waved him goodbye and turned back to Stiles. “We have two bestiaries-”

“And a million unanswered questions.” Stiles added for her. “So if that is all we are going to talk about today, I’m gonna go home.” Stiles moved to get up.

“Stiles, there is one more thing.”

Stiles sighed and sat back down.

“I told you we would protect you-”

“Nope.” Stiles moved to stand and put his bestiary back into his bag.

“Stiles-”

“I am not having a werewolf sit outside my house and babysit me.”

“It would just be as a precaution.”

“It’s been three months! Nothing has happened. Why would something suddenly happen if it didn’t happen before.” Stiles swung his bag over his shoulder and fiddled with his jeep keys.

“Because it didn’t happen before.”

“I’m with the human on this one. I spent enough time outside his house.”

Stiles shot Peter a look.

“The human has a name.” Stiles snapped.

“Do I look like I care?”

Stiles glared at Peter but overall ignored his response.

“No babysitter. We are working together now. No more werewolves creeping outside my house, no more pretending to be nice, no more. I’ll give Scott a copy of the bestiary tomorrow.”

“You don’t want to stay and look over Allison’s bestiary?”

“Not really. I don’t see the point when you have some many people already here that can help you. If you find anything, let me know. You guys apparently already have my number, otherwise I would give it to you.”

“Thank you for coming here, Stiles.”

“Thank you for making it a choice and not another kidnapping.”

Scott cringed at the reminder and Stiles almost felt bad about bringing it up. It wasn’t to make Scott uncomfortable, it was just a reminder that he didn’t trust them.  

Scott stood and walked with Stiles over to loft door. When Stiles thought Scott would stop walking with him, Scott stayed. He walked beside Stiles all the way down to where Stiles had parked his jeep.

“Thank you for coming today, Stiles. I really am sorry about the kidnapping.”

“I know, Scott. Constantly bringing it up is a coping method of mine. I’m serious about the no babysitting though.”

“Understood.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles hoped in his jeep and the engine chugged to life. Overall, Stiles thought that had been a pretty successful first- actual- meeting. Stiles would do some more searching on his own and get back to Lydia if he found anything. But for now he was going home, taking a shower, and then making dinner for himself and his dad.

Chapter Text

Stiles had successfully avoided going back to the loft for the rest of the week.

He had given Scott a copy of the bestiary the day he had promised.

Stiles had sat in the college library using the copy machine much to the annoyance of other students and the staff. It had taken him about an hour and he had to pay for it out of pocket, but it was a small price to pay for figuring everything out.

He handed the pages to Scott at the beginning of practice, the day after his loft visit, and Scott had promised to immediately take it to Deaton when practice ended. A few days later and so far they hadn’t found anything. Deaton was apparently still looking over the book. He was translating it while he read it so Lydia, or anyone really, could look over it without Deaton there.

Scott had told him that Deaton thought it was very interesting that Stiles had found such a book just gathering dust in a college library. Peter had brought up virtually the same thought when they had officially met the first time. Stiles didn’t get it. He had found the book in a library; that didn’t seem too odd to him.

Lacrosse practice just ended and Stiles was replaying his day over in his head. He had an essay to write and some other homework. None of that had him as anxious as the upcoming game did though. They had two more practices until the game and Stiles was sure that they would be exactly like today’s. Hard, exhausting, and aggravating. In summary, Jackson was an asshole.

Scott, as Jackson’s second, had done his best to make it easier for Stiles. Scott had partnered with Stiles and given him pointers. Scott had at some point also directed Jackson’s attention to Greenberg so Stiles could collapse onto the ground for a few minutes and take a small break. Stiles could have kissed Scott, Not really, but he could have hugged him.

Stiles would be getting home just in time for his father to be heading out for his second shift. He hated seeing his father working so hard. The Sheriff hadn’t worked this much since right after his mother died. It was beginning to worry him.

Although he was sure his father was just trying to close a case, the worry didn’t dissipate.

Stiles thought back to the day he was kidnapped. His father had showed up on the college campus and had refused to tell him anything. Stiles wondered if it was the same case. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask his father about it at all. Now was as good a time as any.

Stiles parked the jeep in the driveway and jogged to the front door of his house.

“Hey, dad?” Stiles called when he entered the living room. He dropped his bags on the floor and followed his father’s voice into the kitchen.

“Yeah, kid?”

The older man was standing by the coffee machine waiting for the pot to finish brewing.

“Do you remember when you showed up at the college two weeks ago?”

Stiles skipped over the small talk. He had thought about starting a conversation that would lead up to what he wanted to ask but he knew his dad had to head to work soon. Stiles crossed his arms to make himself feel better about prying into cop business.

His father sighed.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“You were totally hoping I had forgotten. That was what that sigh was about.”

“Stiles. What do you want to know?”

“Is it an open case?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t tell you specific details of an open investigation. However, I can tell you we were worried about a possible security threat on the college campus. It was in the news, I’m surprised you haven’t looked it up yet.”

Stiles cursed his stupidity. That should have been the first thing he did. He should have done research beforehand like he normally would. The whole werewolf thing was knocking himself off his game. He would have had more to ask his dad if he had read up on it before hand

“Okay, well if it’s in the news you can tell me.”

“A man escaped from custody.”

“Hence the double shifts.” Stiles pieced together. He uncrossed his arms and nodded his understanding.

“Exactly. His name is William Barrow.” The older Stilinski nodded.

“What did he do?” Stiles lifted himself onto a nearby counter and grasped his hands together, resting his forearms on his thighs.

The Sheriff let out an exhausted breath of air.

“Years ago he walked onto a school bus of students and set off a shrapnel bomb. Four teens died, another was seriously injured.”

“How did this guy get out?” Stiles’ voice fell soft. He didn’t understand how a person could do such a thing. He knew there were terrible people in the world, but having one in your own backyard was different.

“He was rushed to the hospital. There were complications with his surgery and he disappeared.”

“What does that mean? Complications? How does a patient just disappear?”

“I wasn’t in the room when it happened, Stiles.”

“Yeah but someone must have explained it to you.”

“No amount of explaining could make me understand what happened. My theory is that he had an accomplice”

“Okay. Then why did he do it? Why did he build a shrapnel bomb and attack innocent people?” Stiles asked. He was changing his tactics. By asking about the past rather than the present, maybe he would get more information.

“Stiles, that’s a question for a psychologist. Which, I am not.”

“Yeah, but someone must have asked him at some point. It must have been in a case file or something.”

His father paused before answering. His face full of thought and hesitance. Stiles waited patiently for his father to say something.

“He refused to say anything about it. If you really want to know you should go and speak with the nurse who was assigned to him at the hospital.”

“What’s their name?”

“Melissa McCall.”

“McCall?” Stiles immediately thought of Scott. Scott’s mom was a nurse. It had to be her. Stiles’ mood switched from discouraged to rejuvenated.  

“Yeah. Do you know her?” The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up in response to the change in Stiles’ features.

“No, but I think I know her son.”

“Ah. That’s good. Maybe lead with that instead of drowning her in questions about Barrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Why had this case suddenly grabbed your attention?”

Stiles shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell his father it was because he was worried about him. His dad was a cop, it was his job to solve crimes and put the bad guys away. Stiles should probably just have dropped it. However, it was virtually impossible to do that once his mind and curiosity got involved. There was a mystery behind William Barrow and Stiles wanted to know what it was.

“Who said it grabbed my attention?” Stiles tried nonchalantly.

“I know that look.”

“What look? That’s just my face. My face looks like that.”

His father shook his head as he poured some coffee in his travel mug and prepared it with cream and sugar.

Stiles would have scolded him, but the man deserved a cheat day every once in awhile.

“Alright kid, I’m off to work. Be safe and courteous. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do you even know me?” Stiles retorted. Of course he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. He was just asking some questions, not chasing the perp down.

“Stiles. I’m serious.” His father gave him a pointed look before adding, “Don’t wait up for me, I might be running late.”

“Okay. Be safe, dad.”

Stiles waved his father off and waited a few minutes before heading off himself. He was heading toward Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He didn’t actually know if Scott’s mom was working right now, but he needed to at least check and see.

It was difficult for him to let go of something when his mind was set to it. That little trait tended to get him in a lot of trouble.

A feeling shuddered down his spine when Stiles exited his jeep. A lot of his childhood memories involved this hospital.

Stiles took his time making his way toward the nursing station. He was looking at the nurses. He didn’t want to ask around and bother the staff currently working in order to find Melissa McCall. He figured Scott would look a lot like her and he would be able to find her easily enough.

Stiles easily recognized a few of the nurses. He knew them from when he sat in the hospital when his mother was sick and when his father was injured on duty. He smiled as he passed them.

Stiles didn’t hate hospitals despite his experience. The hospital worked hard to help his mother. This had also been the same hospital that had helped his father with work related injuries throughout the years. While it may have felt like this hospital had taken away one of his parents, it had also saved the life of the other.

There was a young woman he didn’t recognize though. She was sorting through files at the main station. She had brown curly hair and an easy going smile. It reminded Stiles of Scott’s goofy smile. It had to be her. Stiles rubbed his hands against his pants, removing some of the nervous sweat from them, before walking toward her.

“Melissa McCall?”

She lifted her head and turned toward him.

“Yes?”

Stiles’ heart ached for his own mother in that moment. Melissa was a beautiful, kind-looking woman.

“Hi. My name is Stiles- Stilinski.” Stiles quickly added. “I go to school with you son, Scott.”

“Oh really?” He face lit up at the mention of her son. “So you’re the Stiles I hear so much about these days.”

Stiles couldn’t help but blush a little.

“Only terrible things I hope.” Stiles joked.

Melissa gave him a small smile.

“What can I do for you, Stiles?”

“Well, my father is the Sheriff-”

“Noah Stilinski is your father?”

Noah. What? She knew his father well enough to be on a first name basis? What?

Stiles’ mouth fell agape. He snapped it closed almost immediately after he realized that was what he was doing. Luckily for him Melissa had turned to finish marking up some paperwork. When she was done she straightened herself and turned towards Stiles completely.

“Yeah. That’s my dad.”

“What a small world.”

“It really is.” Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“Yeah. My dad is working a case and I had a few questions I wanted to ask about it. It has to do with William Barrow.”

Stiles watched her face fall at the mention of the shrapnel bomber.

“Why would you want to look into a thing like that?”

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and Stiles felt his stomach drop. He could tell that she didn’t really want to tell him anything. Arms crossed over the chest was a universal defensive stance.

“For a school assignment.” Stiles added quickly. “I’m writing an essay on it.”

“You sure you want to be writing an essay on him?”

Stiles nodded.

“The psychology behind the actions of serial killers is actually a very interesting subject to study.”

“So you are interested in the psychology of serial killers?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Not really. Psychologists analyze serial killers and law enforcement officers use those case studies to find and arrest those responsible.”

“So, what exactly are you writing your essay on?”

“How law enforcement interprets and incorporates the information learned from questioning these felons to catch and detain other bad guys.” Stiles didn’t think he would have to bullshit this hard to ask one simple question.

“I want to go into law enforcement like my dad.” Stiles didn’t actually know what he wanted to do with his life but it seemed like the right thing to say in that moment.

Melissa gave him a sad smile.

“Scott’s father works as an FBI agent.”

Stiles nodded because he didn’t know what to say. Scott hadn’t ever really spoken about his father before. Kind of like how Stiles never talked about his mother. Well, maybe not like that. Scott at least still had both his parents alive.

“Alright, so what are you questions.” Melissa recovered quickly from her sad reverie.

“Did you happen to ask Barrow why he did it?”

“Why he killed a bunch of teenagers on a bus?”

“Yeah.”

“I may have.”

Stiles waited for a response. When one didn’t come right away he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Did he say why?”

“You have to be careful to remember that this man was delusional, Stiles.”

“Of course.” Stiles nodded quickly.

“He said-” Stiles watched her struggle to decide if she actually wanted to tell him. Her fingers tapped against her arm. The movement made Stiles more anxious. She sighed and carried on. “He said they had glowing eyes.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped for the second time that night.

“Glowing eyes?” He asked somewhat in disbelief and somewhat casually. His fingers were fidgeting against the side of his leg as he stood there. Stiles knew that Melissa knew about werewolves. It was pretty obvious that Scott hadn’t told her that Stiles also knew. This all meant that Scott knew. Scott knew there was a serial killer on the loose that was targeting werewolves. Stiles clenched his hand into a fist.

“Crazy, right? What else did you want to know?”

“Yeah. Could he have been schizophrenic?” Stiles pulled out his phone and pretended to scroll through questions.

Stiles bombarded her with random questions about Barrow’s behavior. All of which she answered easily enough. He didn’t really need to ask these questions but he had told her that he was writing an essay and it would look pretty suspicious if he only asked one question.

“Thank you so much for your help, Mrs. McCall.” Stiles added after she answer the last question he could think of. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

“Please. No ‘Mrs.’ Just Melissa. It’s fine. Fortunately it’s been a slow day. I’m always happy to help Scott’s friends.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime. Oh! You should come over for dinner sometime this week. I think it would be nice to have you over and get to know you better. Scott doesn’t mention a lot of people he knows outside of his normal group.”

Stiles caught the way Melissa hesitated at ‘his normal group,’ and knew instantly she was talking about the pack of werewolves her son always hung out with.

“That would be great.” Stiles gave her his best smile.

He wondered what it must be like for her. Her son was a werewolf who always hung out with other werewolves. She was probably grateful to see Scott hanging out with Stiles, if anything, for the fact that he was human.

Stiles thought about his dad. How would his father react to any of this? What if Stiles had been a werewolf?

Stiles shook his head and chased away the ‘what if’ scenarios. He didn’t need any more anxiety in his life. He knew those questions would come back to haunt him but for now he had other things on his mind.

Stiles gave Melissa a small wave as he left the hospital.

When Stiles was back in his jeep he let his emotions resurface. He was angry at Scott. The werewolf was keeping secrets still. He thought about calling Scott in that exact moment but pushed the thought aside. It would probably be a good idea to drive home first and then call. Driving angry was never a good idea and he figured his call with Scott would end relatively bad.

Stiles shifted his jeep’s gear into drive and headed home. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel the entire way there.

He was dialing Scott’s number the moment he walked up the steps to his front door. By the time he was in his living room he was listening to the phone ring. Scott picked up after four rings, Stiles growing more irritated by each ring.

“Stiles? What are-”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me about the psychotic werewolf-killer on the loose?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I cannot believe you. Do not play stupid with me, Scott. I know about William Barrow. I know about the glowing eye obsession he has!”

“Where did you get that information?” Scott’s voice sounded strained.

“Your mom.” Stiles snapped.

“You spoke to my mom?” Scott’s voice rose. Stiles could tell that Scott was angry now.

“I didn’t think I would uncover some sort of enemy of the supernatural!”

“You spoke to my mom, Stiles! What the hell!?”

“I was worried about my dad and his case! Of course I spoke to her! Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

Stiles stood in his living room with his mouth agape. Scott sounded like Derek with the ‘it doesn’t concern you’ bullshit. It only served to push Stiles further over the edge.

“Of course it does! My dad is working the case! Plus, how the hell can you protect me when you are in danger yourselves? I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this. We agreed no more secrets because we were working together!”

“Actually, I never agreed. You said it and assumed I agreed.”

“You’re an asshole, Scott. Fuck you.”

Stiles ended the call before he could hear Scott’s reply. He let out a yell of frustration. He was glad he had waited to call Scott. Driving home angry would have been a very bad idea. Stiles would have probably chucked his phone out the window of his jeep. That would have been a terrible thing to explain to his father.

Stiles’ phone vibrated in his hand but he ignored it. Instead, Stiles closed his eyes and took deep breaths to try and calm himself. When he couldn’t stand just standing around breathing and doing nothing else any longer, Stiles marched himself upstairs to start his actual essay. As much as he would rather actually write the essay on psychos and their contributions to law enforcement, Stiles had actual work to do.

Stiles lost himself in his work. He had the essay nearly completed and was lazily browsing the web for more sources. He was extremely bored and tired. His fingers abused his keyboard as he typed.

The knock on his window had him jumping from his computer chair. He made it out of the chair successfully but tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor and fell backwards. He landed on the floor with a thud and cursed.

He turned to the window to see Scott, his face pinched and looking sheepish.

Stiles immediately glared.

“What the hell do you want?”

Scott rapped his knuckles against the window again and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s unlocked.”

Scott took that as an invitation to open the window and crawl through. His feet landed on Stiles’ floor with a light thud and he closed the window behind him.

Stiles had pulled himself off the ground and collected himself while Scott did this.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked again. He was standing defensively with his back to his door and arms crossed over his chest.

“I was being a jerk earlier-”

“An asshole. You were an asshole.”

“And I wanted to apologize. So, Stiles, I’m sorry. I should have told you about it. I was afraid that if you knew then you definitely wouldn’t have listened. I was worried that you wouldn’t ever speak to me again.”

The hurt look on Scott’s face surprised Stiles. It was a genuine, sad-puppy look. Stiles was pissed, of course, but Scott was sorry.

What had his first grade teacher said about forgiveness?

It had been after the glue incident. Stiles had fallen asleep in the table during a project and the girls at his table had glued ribbons and paper into his hair. He had woken up and screamed at them. A class of fighting, crying six and seven year olds was not a great picture. His teacher had the girls write an apology letter, one Stiles had refused to accept. He had wanted his father to arrest them. The teacher had pulled him outside and asked him why he wanted them arrested. He had told her they were bad people. She had shaken her head and told him that good people could make mistakes too.

“Don’t forgive them for them, forgive them for you. You don’t want to be dragging around a five-year grudge while they move on with their lives.”

He had looked at his teacher like she was crazy, because at that age, in his mind she was. It didn’t make sense to him that not forgiving them was just punishing himself.

Stiles thought it was a convenient time to remember such a thing. With Scott standing in front of him looking for forgiveness. It was nothing like the glue incident.

Stiles sighed.

“All is forgiven.”

Scott beamed at Stiles, his attitude changing so quickly that Stiles considered the possibility that Scott was a better actor than he gave him credit for. So Stiles was quick to add,“But I swear to god, you lie to me again and I will find a way to hurt your werewolf ass.”

“Wolfsbane is a bitch.” Scott supplied. “But we can still get hurt by normal means, but with anything other than wolfsbane we just heal faster.”

“You would give away a secret about werewolves that could hurt your pack?”

“I trust you, Stiles.”

Stiles stared at Scott skeptically.

After a moment of silence Scott rubbed his hands together and spoke.

“So, you spoke to my mom?”

Stiles recovered quickly, giving Scott a small smile.

“Yeah. She was really nice. She invited me over for dinner sometime. You didn’t tell her I know about your secret?”

Scott shook his head.

“No. Wait. Did you tell her?”

“No. Should I have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then. Well, I didn’t tell her. I told her I was writing an essay and had some questions.”

“And that worked?”

“Some of us are good liars, Scott.” Stiles teased.

“You sure you forgive me? This isn’t going to be like the kidnapping thing?”

“Shut up, Scott.”

Scott pressed his lips together. He lasted exactly a minute. Stiles had timed it in his head.

“Do you want to play a video game?” Scott asked, hands tucked into his jean pockets as he stood in Stiles’ room awkwardly.

Chapter Text

“Some one want to tell me what the hell we are doing out here this late at night?” Stiles shivered against the cold air. He was wearing a light flannel, but that didn’t seem to be enough to keep away the chill.

Scott had called him shortly after leaving Stiles’ house. He asked if Stiles would meet him at the woods where the lacrosse team often ran together. Stiles had grudgingly agreed because Scott had said it was important. Scott was already there when Stiles had arrived, and he wasn’t alone. Derek and Lydia were with him.

Stiles parked and glanced over at his bat. It would definitely make him feel safer if he had it but he had given Scott this huge lecture on trust as they played video games and didn’t want to look like a hypocrite. Sighing, Stiles grabbed the flashlight from the back seat, he had grabbed it at the suggestion from Scott. So without his bat, Stiles exited his jeep and swung the door shut. He shoved one hand in his pocket, controlled the flashlight with the other, and stalked over to the small group.

Derek was eyeing him suspiciously so Stiles returned the look. What had intended to be a suspicious eyeing, however, turned into Stiles checking the older male out. It wasn’t Stiles’ fault that he found the scary werewolf attractive. It was in human nature to admire something visually appealing. When he realized what he was doing, Stiles rubbed his face and turned to Scott and voiced his agitation at leaving the warmth of his home for this.

“I want to show you that I trust you.”

“Okay. What does this have to do with the Goddess and Sourwolf though?”

Both Derek’s and Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. Derek’s out of what Stiles was sure was a threatening thing, daring Stiles to call him that again and Lydia’s out of surprise. As far as he could tell, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“I don’t know how to get there and Derek does. Lydia just wanted to tag along.”

Lydia gave Stiles a small smile.

Stiles nodded before sweeping his hand out in a ‘lead the way’ gesture. It was already dark and Stiles didn’t have the eyesight of a werewolf. Even with his flashlight, it wasn’t great visibility. In general he just prefered one of them leading the way.  

Derek took the lead, which Stiles was grateful for two reasons. Reason number one, no menacing glares and looks of distaste from the werewolf. Reason two, that ass in those jeans. Every now and then Stiles caught a glimpse and couldn’t help himself from admiring. He was proud of himself for his ability to remain inconspicuous.

Stiles kept his flashlight pointed at the ground to avoid interfering with their werewolf eye-sight. He wasn’t even sure if it would affect them, but he did it anyway to avoid any future lectures about it. Lydia and Derek were in the lead, Lydia holding onto Derek’s arm as they walked to ensure she didn’t trip and fall. Scott and Stiles walked side by side a few paces behind them.

“So where are we going, Scotty?”

“To the Nemeton.”

“To the what-a-ton?”

“The Nemeton.”

“Okay. What is the Nemeton?”

“It’s an old tree stump.”

Something in Stiles’ brain clicked.

“The tree stump Lydia asked me about before? If I had ever interacted with it?”

“That’s the one.”

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks. It took Scott a few moments to realize Stiles had stopped. The whole group came to a stop when Scott did and turned to look at Stiles.

“You want me to interact with that thing?”

“I wanted to show it to you.”

“What is so special about this tree that makes it the Nemeton?” Stiles asked.

“A Nemeton, in Celtic religion, is a sacred space. The tree itself, well, the trunk now, is a Nemeton. It’s like a beacon to the supernatural.” Lydia said.

“You want me to interact with a supernatural beacon? What are the side effects?”

“The side effects? What the hell are you on?” Derek asked.

“Adderall mostly. That’s not the point. If I go near that tree, will the supernatural be attracted to me?”

Lydia, Scott, and Derek exchanged looks.

“No?”

“You did not just seriously end that with a question, Scott.”

“We don’t know.” Lydia piped in.

Stiles shook his head and continued walking. Did these werewolves know anything about the supernatural besides the fact that werewolves existed? Stiles had half a mind to turn around and go home. It was too late at night for this.

When Stiles had told his father he was heading out for a couple hours to hang with Scott his father had been very reluctant to let him leave. He suddenly had a million and one things for Stiles to do.

“Dad, it’s fine. Scott and I have sorted everything out. He was here earlier today.”

“I just don’t want a repeat of that incident. I don’t mind going and picking you up, but it’s the reasons behind me needing to do that that I am uncomfortable with.”

“I know. Honestly though, it’s fine. I’m driving myself. It’s a new rule. I’ll be back before one.”

“Be safe!”

Stiles had driven himself to the park in a relatively uneasy mood. That mood had almost completely dissipated. He didn’t feel uncomfortable around Scott anymore, not that he was ever really uncomfortable with Scott. Just mad at him. The hours of videogames had helped all that though.

Derek continued to walk ahead with Lydia by his side while Stiles and Scott followed behind.

“So how does showing the Nemeton help us? Are you hoping I’ll have a moment of recognition or something?”

“If you do, that’s a bonus. I really just want you to see it.”

“Okay.” Stiles dragged the work out a bit.

Stiles and Scott walked the rest of the way in silence. Stiles was going over everything in his head. Werewolves, banshees, druids, the Nemeton, Barrow, his dad, Scott. He had experienced more emotional turmoil, in relation to the listed, than anytime after his mother’s death.

Scott’s and his relationship had quite a few rocky moments but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to remain distant. It was probably somewhat unhealthy.

Stiles had a feeling that if they had known each other for much longer, if he had known the Scott before the werewolf, that they would be like brothers. Stiles had thought the same thing before learning Scott was a werewolf. It hadn’t even been the werewolf part that had created the rocky parts of the relationship. It had been the lying, kidnapping, and hiding things. Stiles understood why Scott felt like he had to do those things; Scott was helping protect his pack from an outsider.

It hurt to think of himself as an outsider among supposed friends, it did, but he continued to stick around anyway.

“We’re here.” A gruff voice snapped Stiles out of his thoughts. They were in fact there; although, Stiles didn’t exactly know where here was. Stiles hadn’t realized that his and Scott’s shoulders had been pressed together in an effort to guide him through the trees when he had zoned out in thought.

The large stump sat in the center of a small clearing surrounded by trees. The moonlight broke through gaps in the leaves and branches and cast shadows across the ground. The shadows danced despite the lack of wind.

Stiles was at a loss for words.

As soon as he had laid eyes on the Nemeton a tight feeling had formed in his chest. He could feel how this area was different from a regular portion of the woods.

“That’s the Nemeton?” Stiles managed.

“Yeah. It is.” Lydia almost sounded like she was in a trance.

“Wow. I don’t know what I was even expecting.” Stiles entered the clearing and approached the tree. He turned off his flashlight and let his eyes adjust.

There was some whispering behind him but Stiles didn’t focus on it. He wanted to know what was so special about this tree. The giant tree stump had what must have been thousands of rings. Moss grew up along the sides and in the center of the stump. It was a rather sad sight to see.

“Does it look familiar?” Scott called out to Stiles from the edge of the trees.

Stiles shook his head.

“No. Not at all.”

Stiles crouched in front of the tree and slid his hand across the the top of the stump. A small gasp was made behind him and Stiles turned to the source.

Lydia’s face contorted and her head tilted as if she was listening to something.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, sounding almost pained.

“Hear what?” Scott asked as he scrunched his eyebrows in an attempt to focus on his hearing.

“The buzzing.” It came out just above a whisper. She was covering her ears now.

“No. What buzzing, Lydia?” Derek was watching her with concern clear on his face. Stiles was glad that Derek wasn’t the typical douchebag type. He certainly acted like it with the rude comments, grunting, glaring, and brooding. Stiles assumed that deep, deep, deep down he was probably a big teddy bear.

“I- I don’t know. Like flies, I guess. A lot of them. The buzzing- how do you guys not hear that?”

Stiles stood and glanced around the clearing. He didn’t see anything other than a few fireflies flying around the top of the Nemeton stump.

“Lydia?” Stiles stepped away from the center of the clearing and made his way toward Lydia. She removed her hands away from her ears.

“I’m fine. Really. Just the buzzing.”

“How about we get out of here?”

“Good idea, Scotty.”

Stiles followed Scott into the dense trees, sparing a small glance back at the tree before turning away completely and putting the odd feeling in his gut out of mind.

When they arrived back at the cars and Scott’s bike, Stiles turned and pulled Scott in for a quick hug. Scott immediately tensed before relaxing a millisecond later, and Stiles released him.

“Sorry, just… Thank you. You know, for sharing this with me and trusting me.”

Scott’s face brightened a nice shade of red. Stiles watched the other man shift on his feet and rub the back of his neck.

“Thank you for coming. I mean it, Stiles. I’m not sure I would have been as forgiving if I was in your position.”

“I can pretend to hate your guts if you want.”

“No!” Scott cleared his throat before continuing. “No. I don’t think I’d be able to go to school and practice if you hated me.”

Stiles shook his head. Scott definitely had a way of exaggerating things.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. See ya, Scotty!”

Stiles gave Scott a small wave before getting in his jeep and starting up the engine.

When Stiles pulled into the driveway and parked next to his father’s cruiser, he was just starting to feel his exhaustion settling in. It had been one hell of a day. Stiles made it to his house without the urge to lay down and sleep despite being exhausted. However, the moment he stepped inside, the familiarity and comfort of it made him yawn. Stiles marched himself upstairs to his bedroom where he undressed and crawled under his comforter.

Stiles woke the next day with a renewed sense of self. He felt better. Almost optimistic. Maybe things would start to pick up a bit. Stiles knocked his hand against his wood desk. Better safe than sorry.

Stiles had just closed his jeep door when Scott came jogging up to him.

“Hey, Stiles!”

Scott was wearing one of his stupid grins.

“Good morning, Scott.”

“Good news.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My mom has officially invited you over for dinner. She also told me to extend the invitation to your dad.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Six-o-clock.”

“Is it causal?”

“Absolutely.”

A smile spread across Stiles’ face.

“Alright. I’ll be there. I’ll send my dad a text. I don’t know if he will still be working or not. The Barrow case has him working double shifts lately.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you about that.”

“Please stop apologizing. It’s okay. You were worried about your mom.”

Scott nodded.

The two walked side by side across the parking lot and toward the Library Education Building. They had a few minutes before class and Stiles needed to print the essay he wrote.

“Here.” Stiles handed Scott five pages stapled together.

“What is this?”

“The essay I told your mom I was writing.”

“You actually wrote it? Man, this thing is five pages long! How did you write it in one night?”

Stiles shrugged.

“I couldn’t sleep. I figured it was a good idea to write it in case your mom asked about it. Now neither of us has to lie if she asked how it went with the essay.”

“But you wrote it in one night!”

“Yeah? Haven’t you ever procrastinated so much that you had to binge write an essay before?”

“Not since highschool and even then not really.”

“Goody-two-shoes.”

“Says the person who wrote an essay so he wouldn’t have to lie to my mom.”

“I wrote it so you wouldn’t have to lie, Scotty. You are a terrible liar.”

“I’m getting better though. I’m not a werewolf. See? I said that with conviction and everything.”

“It usually works better if you say something I don’t know is a lie, Scott.”

“It was just an example. I’m practicing.”

“Please tell me you stand in front of your bathroom mirror and practice. Please, please tell me you do that. It’s the stereotypical movie scene.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“You did! Oh man.” Stiles smiled brightly. This was the banter he missed. It was good. It felt comfortable and friendly. “In all seriousness, It’s good that you are practicing. You never know when you will need it.”

Scott nodded.

“How did you get so good at lying?”

“My dad’s a cop. It took some practice, but eventually I picked up some tricks from the felons waiting to be processed and from other officers.”

“You learned how to lie from felons?”

“Sounds pretty badass doesn’t it? It wasn’t as cool as it sounds though. They were convicted of minor charges or were there to bail out a buddy. When a cop’s kid walks up to you and asks you tips for lying to cops, and you are a felon, it’s very tempting to encourage the corruption.”

“So I should ask a felon to teach me how to lie?”

“You don’t need a felon when you have the next best thing, Scotty.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me.”

Stiles smiled from ear to ear. Scott chuckled and shook his head before bumping their shoulders together.

“I have to head to class now. I’ll see you at practice. Don’t forget to talk to your dad about dinner.”

“Will do.”

Stiles and Scott went their separate ways. Stiles made his way to class, his body moving on autopilot and his mind drifted off. He wasn’t even thinking about anything in particular, just zoning out on the surroundings around him.

Between classes Stiles gave his father a call. His father cell phone when straight to voicemail and Stiles decided to call the station.

“Hello, this is Deputy Graeme of the Beacon Hills police department-”

“Tara! I’m so glad it’s you on duty and not Deputy Haigh.”

Stiles was really glad it wasn’t Haigh. He didn’t like that guy. He was loud, authoritative, and didn’t have any qualms resorting to violence. Stiles also really liked Deputy Tara Graeme. His father worked with her a lot so Stiles had spent a lot of time with her. When he would sit at the station waiting for his father, Tara used to help him with his homework. When he didn’t have any homework to do the two of them would just sit together and talk.

“Stiles! What can I do for you this time? How are your classes going?”

“It’s going good. Classes are easy so far. If I have any questions though I’ll be coming to you for help.”

“I’ll have to brush up on a few things.”

Stiles could hear the smile in her voice and it made Stiles smile.

“I hate to shorten our conversation but I was trying to get ahold of my dad. He didn’t answer his cell phone.”

“Ah. Sheriff Stilinski is currently in his office filling out some paperwork for a recent arrest. I can send your call to his office if you want.”

“Yes, please. Thank you so much, Tara.”

“Anytime, Stiles.”

Stiles waited as the phone rang a couple times before his father answered.

“This is Sheriff Stilinski-”

“Hey, dad.”

“Stiles. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Why are you calling through the station?”

“Because you didn’t answer you cellphone.”

“Oh. It’s here somewhere.” Stiles listened to the rustling of papers and other objects as his father searched for his cellphone. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and smiled.

“Found it. It’s dead. I’ll charge it. So what are you calling about?”

“Scott’s mom, Melissa, invited us over for dinner tonight at six. I told Scott I would call and see if you could make it.”

The Sheriff sighed. Stiles could imagine him running his hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I would go, but Barrow is still out there. He hasn’t done anything yet but he could be planning something. I’m working a lead right now and I don’t want to risk the trail going cold,”

“It’s fine, dad. I understand. You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to go, Stiles, I do. Let Scott and his mother know I appreciate the invite and hate to miss it.”

“I will.”

“I love you, son.”

“Love you too. Make sure you eat something.”

“I’ll have Tara remind me. Now get back to class.”

“Copy that, Sheriff.”

Stiles hung up and sent Scott a text. He apologized on his father’s behalf but assured Scott that he would still be there at dinner. Scott had messaged back about letting his mother know and gave Stiles a small update about Deaton’s translations.

Stiles stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had contemplated changing, but it was dinner at Scott’s house. He didn’t feel like he had to dress up in order to eat at Scott’s house. It was also Scott’s mom who had invited him. Would she expect him to wear a buttoned up shirt or a tie? Stiles sighed.

Stiles examined his shirt and jeans. There was a small grass stain by the hem of the shirt, other than that it looked decent. Stiles gave his shirt a quick sniff and pulled away in disgust. Practice had left him exhausted and stinky. Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto his pile of dirty clothes. A shower and a change of clothes was probably a good idea. It was actually a great idea.

Stiles took a quick hot shower. When he got out he dried himself, messed with his hair for the usual amount of time, and got dressed. He pulled on a black t-shirt, his best flannel, and a dark pair of blue jeans. He pulled on his sneakers before he shot Scott a text letting him knew he was on his way.

Stiles grabbed his keys and drove over to Scott’s place. Stiles parked at the curb in front of Scott’s house. He made his way from his jeep to the front door. His fist barely connected with the door before it opened.

“It’s creepy how you do that.”

“Do what?”

Stiles tapped his ear and raised his eyebrows. Scott’s eyes widened at the realization.

“I still have to pretend not to know about you and your thing?”

Scott gave a small nod.

“I just don’t want her to worry about everything right now.”

Stiles nodded.

“You gonna let me in?”

Scott opened the door wider and Stiles stepped inside.

“Mom, Stiles is here! I can give you a tour of the house if you want.”

“Sure, why not.”

Scott showed Stiles the entire first floor of the house, ending with the kitchen. Melissa was moving about the kitchen, putting used utensils in the sink and checking on something in the oven. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

“Stiles! I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I am too. I’m sorry my dad couldn’t though”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there will be another time. How’s that essay going?”

“It’s done actually.”

“Really? Wow. I hope you didn’t rush.”

“Of course not. I had Scott proofread it.” Stiles turned toward Scott. “You did read it, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. I have it upstairs if you want to take a look at my notes.”

Stiles nodded.

“I’d be interested in reading it sometime. If that’s okay with you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled.

“That’d be awesome.”

Scott led Stiles upstairs to the second floor and pointed out what each room was. They finished the tour at Scott’s room.

“Why’d you tell my mom I was proofreading your essay?”

“Seemed like the thing to say.”

“Liar. You just wanted to throw me under the bus.”

Stiles’ grin grew.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

Scott glared at Stiles.

“Because you are an evil person.”

“Good reasoning. Very descriptive. Good job, Scott.”

“Shut up.”

Stiles let out a chuckle.

“Boys! Dinner.”

Stiles followed Scott down the stairs and into the dining room. The table was set and the food smelt delicious.

Chapter Text

Stiles rubbed his hands together anxiously. It was almost two in the afternoon and he, Scott, and the rest of the lacrosse team were waiting at the school for the bus to be ready to board. The big game was tonight. Stiles hadn’t thought much about it, now that he did, he was beginning to feel nervous.

“Dude, calm down. It’s just one game.”

“It’s the first game, Scott. The first game sets the standard for the season.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Does too.”

“Does not.”

“Does-”

“Alright everyone, get your butt’s on the bus. We have a game to win.”

Stiles dragged himself onto the bus with Scott following close behind him. They placed their bags in the compartment above their seats and sat down. The bus filled and Coach was the last one on the bus.

“Alright. Listen up, punks. This is our first game and it sets the standard for the whole season.”

Stiles elbowed Scott.

“I expect great things from you. Wipe that smile off your face, Greenberg, that wasn’t directed at you. You are going against a great team-”

“Hey.” Stiles nudged Scott’s arm. Scott raised his eyebrows in response.  “Watch this. Hey! Coach.”

“What is it, Stilinski?”

“Give us a speech. Speech. Speech.” Stiles got the chant going and eventually Coach caved.

“Alright. Alright. Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind-”

“What is-” Scott leaned over and whispered in Stiles’ ear. Stiles was chuckling and on the verge of full blown laughter.

“He did this every year when I was on the team in high school.”

“Mankind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today…”

“It’s the speech from Independence Day. It’s his favorite movie.”

“We are fighting for our right to live but as the day the world declared in one voice. We will not go quietly into the night!”

“Wow.”

“I know right? It’s great.”

“No sports speech? No team exercise or anything?”

“Nope. I expect he will be drinking by the end of the game.”

“Alright. Let’s get this party bus moving.” Finstock shouted.

The drive wasn’t very long but subjectively, it felt like an eternity for Stiles. His leg bounced up and down almost the entire ride there. Talking to Scott did little to help sedate his nerves.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Stiles. We have been practicing and training really hard. You put in so many extra hours. We can totally beat these guys.”

“Have you seen the other team? Because I have. Those guys are scary.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“You can say that because you have supernatural powers that will help you kick ass on the field.”

“I don’t actually use my abilities on the field.”

“Oh please, Scott. I’ve seen you on the field. You cheat.”

“I do not.”

“I bet you can’t go a single game without relying on it.”

“Can to.”

“Cannot.”

“Can to.”

“Scott, you literally had asthma before the bite. You said so. Physically, you can’t go a game without relying on it.”

“Stop being so technical. I could go without the enhanced sight, smell, hearing, and reflexes if I wanted to.”

Stiles laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

“No you couldn’t.”

“Five bucks says I could.”

“This isn’t high school, Scott. You have to bet at least twenty.”

“Alright, so twenty.”

“Twenty and you have to wash my jeep.”

“Your jeep is disgusting, dude.”

“Roscoe is a beauty.”

“What do I get when I win?”

“When you win? Please. You won’t last twenty minutes. Name your price.”

“You have to come to a pack night.”

“A what night?”

“A pack night.”

“Scott…”

“If you are so confident that you are going to win than you shouldn’t have a problem agreeing.”

“Fine. It’s a bet.”

“Shake on it.”

Scott held out his hand and Stiles shook it.

“You do realize you just signed on to not use your abilities during the first game of the season. The game that sets the standard for the rest of the season.”

“So people keep saying. It will be fine.”

“You are too positive for your own good, Scotty.”

The bus came to a stop and everyone piled off. They made their way over to the guest side of the field and began settling down. The bleachers on their side contained close family and friends, it wasn’t completely filled like the home team’s side but it was enough for them to feel supported. Stiles spotted his father in the crowed as well as Melissa McCall. The two were sitting next to each other chatting. Stiles spotted some people he recognized from on campus and from his classes, one of which was Matt Daehler. Stiles also noticed Lydia, and Malia sitting with another brunette.

“Who's that?” Stiles asked Scott.

“Allison.”

“Ah. The Allison from the other night?” Stiles was of course referring to the Allison that Isaac had called about the bestiary. She was the reason for the drama between Isaac and Scott.

“Yup.”

Stiles and Scott waved at their family and friends before turning and focussing on Coach and the rest of the team.

“We are going to lose.” Greenberg mumbled.

“No we aren’t.” Jackson defended.

“Do you see those guys? Their monsters.” Danny gestured to the other team.

“Come on, is that thing even a student? I wanna see a birth certificate. Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?” Coach yelled when he caught sight of one member of other team.

“Eddie Abramovitz, Coach. They call him the Abomination.“ Stiles supplied.

“Oh. That’s cute. Just great. What a way to lose. Everybody, listen up! I know the odds may seem to be against us, and some of you may not be walking away from this, but give it your all. I expect broken bones. Preferably the other team’s but I will be willing to settle for the opposite.”

“Very encouraging, Coach.”

“Shut up, Stilinski.”

“Shutting up.”

A whistle blew and Coach Finstock ushered the team on to the field.

“So, I’ll get Roscoe ready for the wash this weekend. Roscoe really deserves some pampering. Maybe you should have taken a wolfsbane pill or something to help stave off the healing process thing you have.” Stiles whispered to Scott. The two of them, and the rest of the playing members of the team, jogged onto the field and took their positions.

As Stiles jogged away from Scott he could hear him muttering to himself. It was mostly self encouraging things. Stiles smiled gleefully. This was going to be a painful game.

The were losing, badly. Coach Finstock called a timeout.

“What the hell, McCall?!” Jackson gave Scott a small shove.

Stiles found himself instantly between them despite not being able to do much against Jackson and his werewolf strength. Isaac had positioned himself halfway in front of Jackson in an attempt to aid Stiles in preventing a fight. Jackson’s eyes flashed gold for a moment before returning to normal.

Stiles was simultaneously grateful and ungrateful for the audience.

“Back off, Jackson.”

“You are losing on purpose!”

“I’m not!”

Stiles sighed and shook his head when he caught the figure of Finstock approaching them.

“Here we go.” Stiles muttered.

“What is this about McCall losing on purpose?”

“I’m not, Coach-”

“He is taking hits he could easily block, he isn’t running like he did in practice. He is playing like Greenberg! Even Stilinski is playing better than him!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Stiles mumbled.

“I’m not losing on purpose!”

“I don’t care what you are doing, McCall. You need to get yourself together play this game like you want to win it.”

“Yes, Coach.”

The group broke apart and Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm, keeping him from walking away.

“Can we put a pause on this bet?”

“What? No way, Scott. You either forfeit the bet or continue to disappoint Coach.”

“You’re evil.”

“This is how a bet works, Scott.”

“I know, I know. This sucks.”

“You can always forfeit.”

“McCall's aren’t quitters.”

“Uh huh.”

Stiles wandered back to his place. He rubbed his shoulder from where he had collided with the Abomination. It had hurt like a bitch. The only thing that made it feel better was watching Scott go through the same thing. It had been a sight to see. The only thing he could think of that would have made it better was if it had been Jackson in Scott’s place.

Stiles got ahold of the ball and made a pass to Jackson who scored. It was a miracle moment and Stiles brightened at the praise from Jackson. It was a small clap on the shoulder, but Stiles still felt a little smug.

Of course, the other team scored on them another two times but Stiles was still living off the energy from their earlier score. Stiles had been so nervous before the game, however, the bet seemed to have removed some of the anxiety and fear of losing. Stiles honestly hadn’t thought Scott would even last this long. He thought Scott would have given up after his first hit to the ground.

Stiles figured one more time being knocked to the ground would send Scott over the edge. While playing, Stiles kept one eye on Scott. It occurred to him now that he hadn’t thought about the limit to Scott’s control. If Scott wolfed-out out of anger, it would be partially on him. Stiles hoped that Scott knew his own limits.

Scott managed to make a pass to Jackson right before the Abomination rammed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground. Stiles cringed at the sight. Stiles watched Scott remain on the ground for a moment too long and rushed over to him, kneeling on the ground next to him.

“Scott? You okay buddy?”

Scoff let out a strangled breath and Stiles got a good look at Scott. His eyes were shifting from their natural brown to a golden hue.

“Whoah there buddy. Hate to break this to you, but the eye-shifting, totally counts. You physically cannot win this bet.”

“This is so aggravating.”

“What? Being a weak little human? Yeah. So aggravating.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Scott pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes.

“I know. You don’t have to hold back anymore, Scott. You lost. I guess you and Roscoe  have a date this weekend.”

“It doesn’t count, I didn’t lose yet. I haven’t used my abilities on the field. This bet is still going on.”

“It’s your funeral.”

Stiles grinned from ear to ear before offering Scott his hand. He helped Scott to his feet and the two of them readied themselves for the next wave. Stiles could hear Coach Finstock shouting from the sideline. He was probably a couple drinks in by now.

Despite not using any of his werewolf powers, Scott was starting to play better. Jackson was still hounding him for losing on purpose, but they were starting to do better. The fact that Scott was so sure they could win without his werewolf abilities made Stiles try even harder. He thought back to the days of extra practice with Jackson, and soon he and Scott were working the field.

Scott was a great lacrosse player. Stiles used to credit Scott’s skill to long days of practice and hard work but hadn’t really thought about it much after the supernatural discovery. Although, if he had, he would have blamed it on the bite. Scott had told Stiles how he had asthma before the bite, it was what had prevented Scott from playing sports.

Stiles hadn’t actually seen Scott do extra practice and figured that being a werewolf meant he didn’t need it. Whether or not it was necessary, it was clear now that Scott had put in the time to actually learn the game. So yeah, Scott was a great lacrosse player with or without the enhanced sight, hearing, and reflexes.

The entire team’s morale began to increase and eventually Jackson shut up. Stiles didn’t think they had a chance of actually beating the opposing team, but they could definitely catch up and give the other team a hard time. They could totally do this.

Jackson scored most of their team’s goals by the end of the game, and while the score was close, they still lost. Jackson blamed the entire loss on Scott despite the fact that he had turned the game around near the end.

“I take part of the blame for this loss.” Stiles muttered during one of Scott’s repeated apologies.

“And what part are you claiming to be responsible for?”

Jackson was somewhat terrifying when angry. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and rushed out his next sentence.

“I kind of distracted him with a bet, but in my defence he started it and wouldn’t forfeit.”

“A bet? We lost the game because you two made a bet? What the hell? You two are idiots. I should tell Coach about this.”

“Actually, that wouldn’t be the best idea. You shouldn’t do that.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because then you would have to tell him what the bet is and that would mean telling him about werewolves.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Stilinski?”

“The bet-” Stiles cast a quick glance over at Scott before continuing, “was about whether or not Scott could play a game of lacrosse without using any supernatural wolfy powers.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

“You can’t be serious.” Jackson finally put his thoughts into words. Stiles inwardly applauded him for sounding more calm and relaxed than he looked. “What the hell did you two bet?”

“Scott was going to give me fifty bucks-”

“We agreed twenty.”

“And would clean Roscoe. I agreed to go to one of your stupid pack nights if he won.”

“Stupid pack nights? What-”

“Anyway, despite the fact that we lost the game, I won the bet.” Scott interjected. 

Stiles gave Scott props for being willing to interrupt Jackson after just being torn into. Scott did win the bet. Scott won the bet.

“I cannot believe you won the bet.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Stiles.”

“I’m not a sore loser, I just think the eye thing totally counted.”

“It didn’t count.”

“I can’t deal with you two. I’m done. I’m going home.”

Stiles and Scott watched Jackson walk away from them and toward Isaac. Isaac was standing with Lydia, Malia, and Allison.

“You going to head over there?” Stiles asked when he turned to face Scott.

“Yeah. I’ll see you on the bus?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles made his way toward his father, who was standing off to the side of the bleachers. The older man’s face was worn and tired, but brightened when he noticed Stiles heading his way.

“Sorry you came all this way to see us lose our first game of the season.”

“It wasn’t that bad. You guys really turned it around there by the end of it. You have gotten really good Stiles. Your mom would be proud.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Do you want to grab a bite to celebrate your loss?”

“You’re just using it as an excuse to eat some fatty food.”

“That, yes, and I think it would be good for us. So what do you say?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. I can go get my stuff off the bus and catch a ride with you.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your friends.”

Stiles glanced over to where Scott stood surrounded by his pack.

“It’s fine. There aren’t any plans as far as I know. Besides, I’d much rather hang out with you. For all I know you could become decrepit tomorrow.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Stiles. Give your old man a break. I’m not even that old.”

Stiles chuckled.

“I’ll go grab my stuff.”

Stiles gave his father a quick hug before heading to the bus. Walking alone made Stiles realize just how dark and creepy it was outside. He shivered despite the lack of a breeze and quickened his pace toward the bus. No one was there. Stiles assumed most of them were stuck in the guest locker room getting a lecture from Coach Finstock. Stiles could imagine the Coach lounging on his personal sofa drinking away tonight's loss. The image wasn’t a pretty one.

Stiles stepped onto the bus to retrieve his belongings. He was pretty sure Finstock would give him hell for opting to ride with his father rather than the team but Stiles figured it was a lecture he was willing to sit through. His father was off work and interested in having some time with his son. It made Stiles feel a warmth in his chest.

Stiles retrieved his bag and turned to step off the bus. His face nearly collided into someone. Stiles let out a strangled noise and stepped backward.

“Jesus Christ, Scott. What the hell? Do not sneak up on me like that.”

“Shush.”

“What?”

Scott’s head twisted sideways so one ear was slightly higher than the other. It was a moment before Scott straightened himself.

“What are you doing?”

“Grabbing my stuff?”

“Why?”

“My dad and I are going to go grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh. I was gonna invite you over to the pity party celebration at the loft.”

Stiles was surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t really been expecting anything, especially not another invitation back to the loft.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it. You already have to join us for a pack night.”

“You make it sound like I really hate you guys.”

“You don’t?”

“No, Scott, I don’t. I mean, sure, I was really mad about the whole kidnapping thing and the not trusting. I admit that I’m still kind of upset about how everything played out. But I forgave you. I know you are trying to do what is best for your pack, and I understand your loyalties to them.”

Scott smiled and Stiles returned it.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You are a clingy puppy.”

Scout pouted.

“I’m not a puppy, Stiles. I may be a werewolf but I’m still technically human.”

“But you don’t deny being clingy? Are you sure you have your priorities straight?”

“Do you?”

“My dear friend, there is nothing straight about-”

Scott’s raised hand silenced Stiles. His head was doing the tilted listening thing.

“Scott,” Stiles whispered, “what is it?”

“I don’t recognize this scent. It's like fire, metal, and death.”

Stiles glanced around the bus and out the windows. A chill ran down his spine and his body shook involuntarily in reaction to it.

“Can we get off this thing? Please?” Stiles urged.

Stiles was suddenly aware of the fact that they were standing alone on a bus. The whole situation reminded him that there was a psychopathic, werewolf killing, shrapnel bomber on the loose. Scott nodded and the two of them moved toward the front of the bus.

“Wait a second. Was this here before?” Stiles pointed to the little present sat on the driver’s seat.

“No.” Scott sniffed the air.

Stiles hesitated before saying anything.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I think that’s a bomb.”

Scott’s head snapped toward the box.

“A bomb?”

“It was Barrow’s thing. He had the bomb in a box wrapped like a present. I did some research after I spoke to my dad.”

“We need to leave.”

“We can’t just leave it here!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Can’t you run it into the woods? Don’t you have super speed or something?”

“I’m not touching that thing.”

“Fine. Then we tell my dad about it.”

Scott glanced between the box and Stiles.

“Scott, we can’t leave it. If it goes off while the team is on the bus it could kill people.”

“I know, I know. Fine. We tell your dad. I’m going to call Derek.”

“We need to get off this bus. Like now.”

Scott didn’t argue.

Off the bus, Scott scanned the dark and sniffed the air.

“Scott-”

“You should go. Tell your dad and get the cops here. I’ll make sure no one gets on the bus.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you out here. I can call my dad from here.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and dialed his father’s number.

“Stiles?”

“Hey. Barrow planted the bomb on the bus through the use of a box wrapped as a present, right?”

“That’s what was in the report, yes. Why-”

“How do you feel about the combination of people, your son’s lacrosse team, and a bomb, all on a bus? I think there is a bomb on our bus. There is a small present on the driver’s seat.”

“Tell me you aren’t on the bus right now. Tell me you didn’t touch it.”

“I didn’t. Scott and I aren’t on it. We were, but we got off. We are waiting here to make sure no one else gets on.”

“Stiles, get away from the bus. Create a perimeter. I’ll be right over there after I call for backup.”

“Okay.”

“Do not go near the bus.”

“I won’t.”

Stiles hung up and turned to Scott. Scott had his phone pressed to his ear. When he turned around and made eye contact, Stiles raised his eyebrows in a question. Scott moved closer to Stiles and pulled his phone from his ear, placing the phone call on speaker as he moved.

“You still there, Scott?” It was Derek.

“Yeah. I’m with Stiles. He called his father and let him know.”

“Okay. Let the cops handle the bomb. We need to handle Barrow. If he is targeting our pack than we need to do something about it.”

“Can you guys track him?”

“We don’t have his scent.” Scott supplied.

“Okay. We can worry about that later. He was here. At the game. How the hell does he even know there are werewolves on the team? Your eyes don’t glow unless you shift-” Stiles trailed off.

Werewolves eyes flared in photos.

“Stiles, what?”

“I really hope I’m wrong.”

“About what?”

Stiles had almost forgotten about Derek on the other end of the phone.

“I found out about you guys because of a photo. A photo Matt took.”

“Matt Dahmer?”

“Yeah. He took photos of the team. You, Jackson, and Isaac had flared eyes in the photos directed at your faces. I asked Matt about it and he said it was probably just lens flare. I looked up lens flares, they looked nothing like what I saw. The point is, Matt took the photos. He could have showed them to someone or gotten them printed out and Barrow could have stumbled upon them.”

“Or he could be working with Barrow.” Derek accused.

“You don’t know him. He isn’t a bad guy.” Stiles defended.

“Can we ask him about it?” Scott reasoned.

“If he is involved then you would just be tipping him off.”

Sirens rang in the distance and both Scott and Stiles raised their heads. A police car was fast approaching.

“We have to go. We can figure this out later.”

“We will meet up and search the area after the police finish their investigation.” Derek added before ending the call.

Stiles and Scott waited for the police car to pull up. His father stepped out of the vehicle and ushered the boys away from the bus.

“I called for backup, they will be here soon. I told Coach Finstock about the situation and he has called for a replacement bus. Stiles, may need a raincheck on that celebratory dinner.”

“I’ll wait for you. We can go after you handle this.”

“Alright. You can go ahead and put your stuff in the cruiser. Stay over there too, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott and Stiles stepped further away from the bus than they already were and waited by the car. Stiles’ leg moved, tapping against the ground, as he anxiously watched his father approach the bus. He didn’t get on it, just got close enough to observe the delivery device of the bomb.

“So what was that you were saying on the bus about priorities and nothing being straight?”

Stiles looked at Scott in disbelief. He glanced over at his father before turning back and answering Scott.

“Scotty, boy, there are things about me you don’t know. I’m a mystery wrapped in a very obvious package.”

The look of confusion on Scott’s face broke Stiles’ composure and he let out a small laugh.

“You pick the worst times to talk about things.”

“What do you mean? This is a good time.”

“There might be a murderer lurking nearby and there is a bomb on the bus we arrived on.”

“I doubt it. Barrow is smart, he has evaded the police for this long. The bomb thing is being handled.”

“This is a conversation for another time, Scotty. I may need to knock you out and kidnap you for this kind of news.”

Scott gave Stiles a small smile but remained silent.

More police officers arrived, and Deputy Parrish was among them. Parrish stepped out of his cruiser and opened the trunk. He dressed himself in a bomb suit and approached the bus. The rest of the new police arrivals finished setting up the perimeter.

A small crowd had formed, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Malia, and Allison among them.

The whole process seemed to take forever. Deputy Parrish stepped onto the bus and they waited. Stiles couldn’t help but be thankful it wasn’t in his father’s job description to defuse bombs. Instead, he stood outside of the blast radius speaking to Parish over the radio.

Eventually a back up bus arrived and Coach Finstock yelled for the team to board the replacement bus. Despite wanting to see the outcome, the team followed his orders. Stiles watched his father assure them that they would be able to retrieve their belongings either at the station later tonight or Monday during practice at the college campus.

Stiles found Coach Finstock and notified him he was going to wait and get a ride with the Sheriff. He got an earful about abandoning his team and losing the game, but was dismissed nonetheless. Stiles then walked Scott to the replacement bus.

“We can meet up tomorrow and figure things out.”

“Okay.” Stiles agreed.

“The pack and I will come back after the police have cleared out and search the area.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know how everything goes here.”

Stiles wandered back to his father’s cruiser by himself. He watched his father interact with his Deputies. Even without his uniform he held an air of authority around him. Stiles felt a rush of pride. His father had the situation under control.

Deputy Parrish was off the bus in less than twenty minutes. Stiles didn’t know all of the details, but they had placed the device in a bomb containment chamber and had called the all clear.

He heard them discussing dusting the bus for prints; Stiles was sure they would get the prints of the entire team, the bus driver, and maybe if they were lucky, a partial for Barrow. They took photos of the crime scene and scanned the nearby treeline.

Stiles sat himself in the passenger seat of the cruiser and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. The earlier adrenaline had worn off and he was now running on fumes. Stiles thought about Matt and the photos. How else could Barrow have known about the werewolves on the team. Could they even be sure that Barrow knew? Could Matt really be involved? Stiles didn’t actually know that much about Matt. He knew something had happened to him that made him more timid around others, but he considered Matt a friend.

The door on his left opened. Stiles opened his eyes and turned toward it. His father released a heavy sigh before seating himself behind the wheel. The noise from closing the door seemed so much louder than it actually was.

“Sorry it took so long, kid. I can take you back to the jeep and we can have dinner tomorrow night.”

Stiles sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m awake. We can go eat now if you want to.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. After we eat you can drop me off at the school and I’ll follow you back.”

“Alright. Pick a place.”

Stiles picked the diner, it was nice but cheap and provided them with some healthy food choices. Stiles was obviously suggestive when they looked over the menu.

“A veggie burger, nice. Oh, look. They also have salads and fruit sides.”

When they were ready to order, Stiles let his father go first. He wasn’t going to criticize his father’s food choices in public, and he already decided that a cheat day was okay.

“I would like a cheeseburger and a side salad.”

“Would you like the side of fries as well?”

“No thank you, just the burger and the salad.”

Stiles smiled.

The waitress turned to him and Stiles listed his order.

“Cheeseburger and chili fries for me, please.” Stiles caught his father’s glare in the corner of his eye, “And a fruit bowl.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit to refill your drinks. Let me know if I can get you anything else”

“Thank you.”

Stiles and his father chatted quietly with one another while they waited for their food. They somehow found enough to talk about without mentioning Barrow or the bomb on the bus. When the food finally arrived, even Stiles went quiet in order to enjoy his the meal. He pretended not to see his father occasionally steal from his plate of chili fries.

“You played well tonight, Stiles. I know it was the first game of the season, but there will be more games. You guys definitely stand a chance.”

“Thanks, and I know. We were a little bit off today.”

“I know there is a lot going on with you, and I know I’ve said this before, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

Stiles nodded.

They ate their food while maintaining a small conversation.

The older Stilinski dropped Stiles off at his jeep after dinner. The Sheriff waited until Stiles was safely inside the vehicle and left ahead of him.

Stiles started the engine and followed after his father. He pulled into the driveway just as his father was exiting his own vehicle and the two of them walked to the front door together.

Stiles shot Scott a quick text after dinner with his father. It read: They announced the site clear. They are analyzing the bomb and fingerprints. Did you find anything?

Scott replied almost instantly.

Stiles read over the paragraph Scott sent. They hadn’t found anything. The pack had gotten together and met up where the bus had been parked. The scent Scott had smelled earlier had nearly vanished but they managed to trail it for a quarter mile before losing it completely. Scott also mentioned that Lydia had heard the buzzing again, although not as strong as the night out in the woods.

Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern.

Chapter Text

Stiles slept in Saturday morning. While it could technically be called sleeping in, he didn’t get much sleep during the night. He went to sleep easily enough in the beginning but periodically woke up in the middle of the night.

When Stiles finally succumbed to the idea of being awake and not getting sleep, it was a little after eleven-thirty in the morning. He knew from experience that his father was already at work and wandered down stairs to the kitchen in just his sweats. He poured himself a cup of juice, too lazy to make a cup of coffee, and wandered around the kitchen opening and closing cabinet doors. If it was out of boredom or hunger, Stiles didn’t know.

Back up in his room, Stiles had dressed and decided to give Scott a video call. Scott picked up after the second ring and Stiles was greeted by Scott’s cheerfully annoying face.

“If we are meeting up today, I’m gonna need some coffee.”

“I doubt that is what you need.”

Stiles popped an Adderall into his mouth and swallowed.

“We need to do some digging on Barrow.”

“I spoke to my mom. I asked her if the hospital still had Barrow’s possessions. They don’t, the cops collected it as evidence when Barrow took off. I think if I get a scent off of his stuff, we can find him.”

“You aren’t seriously proposing what I think you are. Are you?”

“I know you dad is the Sheriff and this is a hard thing to ask of you-”

“I’m in.”

“Yeah? Even though it’s completely illegal?” Scott sounded relieved.

“Yeah. Gotta start to trust you at some point. I want to help. Besides, I’m pretty sure you would screw it up and get caught without me. When do you want to do this? I’m gonna need at least a couple hours to get everything together. Plus we are gonna need at least one other person.”

“Slow down, Stiles. I was just gonna break the door open and-”

“Stop. You’re hurting me. We don’t want to leave any evidence behind.”

Scott chuckled.

“We can do it whenever. Hopefully soon though. Just get whatever you think we need.”

“We can do it tonight. My dad has a no working overtime on weekends policy.”

“Stiles?”

“What?”

Stiles took a moment to study Scott’s features. He looked calm and serious, maybe a bit surprised by the ease in which Stiles agreed to help. Stiles was probably crazy, but he wanted to trust Scott, wanted to show Scott that he could be trusted and relied on. They were in this together, crazy or not.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“What, steal from the police evidence locker? No. I’m not a criminal, Scott.”

“Right.”

Stiles and Scott agreed to meet up around three in the afternoon. Before then, Stiles had some work to do. He grabbed his laptop, keys, and flannel before he began heading down stairs, phone pressed against his ear as he listened to it ring.

“You never call me.”

“Danny! I need a favor, man.”

“Is it legal?”

“Not entirely. I promise to leave you as far out of it as possible though.”

Danny sighed.

“What do you want?”

“I need to borrow a RFID emulator. Can you meet me at the little coffee shop by the campus?”

Stiles waited inside with his coffee and laptop out in front of him for Danny. Danny walked in roughly ten minutes after Stiles had sat down. He had a bag slung over one shoulder. Stiles closed his laptop and moved it to the side when Danny began walking over. Danny set the bag down on the tabletop in front of Stiles and sat down.

“Everything you’ll need is in there. You know how to work it, don’t break it. I don’t want to know why you need this, but I need assurances that I will be getting it back and that it won’t end up as evidence in a police investigation. As well as a favor in turn.”

“All very reasonable requests. I won’t need it for very long. What do you want?”

Stiles took a sip of coffee as he waited for Danny to reply.

“A wingman.”

Stiles nearly choked on his drink.

“Wingman? Me? Are you serious?”

Danny knew Stiles’ sexual orientation and had constantly brushed off Stiles’ questions about whether or not Danny found him attractive. They were good friends and nothing more would ever really come from their relationship. Despite being good friends, they had never gone to a bar together or really hung out at parties. They never spoke about their dating interests. So Danny asking him to be his wingman was a pretty big deal.

Danny rolled his eyes and reached to slide the bag off the table and away from Stiles.

“Wait! Wait. Okay. Fine.”

“That wasn’t all.”

Danny released the bag and leaned back in his chair.

“I said I needed assurances.”

“My word isn’t enough?”

“Normally, sure. But this is something that can affect my client pool.”

Of course Danny would be thinking about his clients and his reputation.

“Alright. What do you need? I have like, twenty bucks on me and some lint.”

“Keys to your jeep.”

Stiles’ jaw fell.

“Seriously? I kind of need that to get around.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way. I won’t do anything to it. You get your keys back when I get the emulator back.”

Stiles turned the proposition over in his head. Danny had named a high price. A favor and his keys. It was this or Stiles could spend hours tracking down another trustworthy source to get an emulator. Stiles sighed and fished his keys from his pocket.

“Be good to Roscoe, Danny.”

“Sure thing.”

Danny pushed the backpack toward Stiles. Stiles checked its contents and smiled. It occurred to him what a sight this must be for other people. In any other town where everyone didn’t know everyone, someone might have thought they were doing an illegal deal with drugs or other things of the sort. Stiles felt like a badass movie or television star.

Stiles chugged the rest of his coffee and found himself unable to sit still any longer. Maybe Scott was right about not needing the coffee. The two of them stood and walked out of the coffee shop together.

“Do you think you could give me a ride?”

Danny nodded.

“Where to?”

“The police station.”

Stiles followed Danny to his car and called Scott to update him on the situation. Stiles was very conscious of what words he used and what he said while one the phone in Danny’s car. The less Danny knew, the better.

Danny dropped Stiles off at the station at around one. Stiles wandered inside, half hoping his dad was out answering a call and half hoping he could spend time with his old man.

“Hello there, Deputy Clark.”

Stiles smiled at the newest addition to the police department. His father had told him about her. She was working and caring for her younger sister who was still in highschool.

“I was warned about you.”

Stiles frowned.

“I didn’t do anything. You don’t even know who I am.”

“Stiles Stilinski. Your father has a picture of you in his office, although you were a lot younger in it. I was told you have a knack for getting in trouble.”

Stiles’ lip twitched upward slightly. Stiles couldn’t deny it, his history was filled with small incidents that had gotten him in trouble, although it was never anything terribly serious.

“Is my dad in?”

“Not at the moment. He should be back in an hour or so.”

“Awesome. Am I allowed to wait in his office or am I required to stand out here?”

Stiles almost felt bad for the new Deputy, especially since he was about to do something totally illegal on her watch. She hesitated before nodded toward the back where his father’s office was.

“Thank you.”

Stiles felt kinda bad about everything despite how necessary he felt it was. He scanned the area around him. The precinct was virtually empty, except for Deputy Clark and himself. Stiles settled himself in his father’s office and got to work. He pulled his laptop from his bag and rummaged through his father’s desk. He made sure not to shift anything around too much, his father had an attention to detail.

The folder labeled “Barrow” on top of the desk caught his attention and he couldn’t resist a peek at it. He snapped some quick photos and placed the folder back where he got it.

Stiles was leaning back in his father’s chair, laptop on his lap and feet on his father’s desk, when the Sheriff walked in.

“Stiles. Should I be worried?”

“Why is it that everytime I come to visit you at work you think I am up to something?”

“Because you're you.”

“Did you know that a person’s personality may actually be tied to their genetics? So it’s kinda your fault I’m like this. It’s in my DNA.”

“You get it from your mother.”

Stiles sobered up like he did every time his father mentioned his mom. A small smile, somber lingered on his lips at the thought of his personality coming from his mother. His father was probably very right about that.

“What did you want for dinner?” Stiles finally asked.

“You came all this way to ask what I wanted for dinner? What are you up to?”

“Nothing. I was gonna go to Scott’s tonight but I didn’t want you to go without dinner.”

“I know how to cook, Stiles. You could have just texted or called.”

“Last time your phone was dead.”

“Don’t worry about me. Get out of here.”

Stiles stood from where he was seated behind the Sheriff’s desk, bag over his shoulder and laptop tucked under his arm, and move toward the door.

“Hold on a second.”

Stiles froze. He ran through every possible scenario he could think of in his head before turning around to face his dad, an eyebrow raised.

“Where’s the jeep? I didn’t see it outside.”

Stiles shoulders dropped slightly in relief.

“Oh. Yeah. The engine was making the clunking noise again so I took Roscoe in to get checked. I’ll get her back later tonight or tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well, see ya.”

Stiles passed the now occupied desks. Parish and Haigh seemed to be having a glaring contest or sorts.

Stiles gave Deputy Clark a small smile as he left. She gave him a wary smile in return.

Scott was waiting for him outside of the Sheriff’s office, but he didn’t have his bike like Stiles was expecting.

“Scotty, whose car did you steal?”

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed Lydia’s. I figured that would be a better choice than my bike.”

“Did you tell her about the plan?”

“I told the entire pack.”

“I thought this was going to be me, you, and whoever you told.”

“Erica. And yeah, the three of us will handle tonight.”

“Erica made the call?”

“Yeah.”

“She did a good job.”

“You had access?”

“Yeah. I may have found a lead on Barrow. I’ll explain everything later. Drop me off at my place and give me a couple hours.”

Scott nodded and the two of them made small talk on the way over to Stiles’ house.

Scott dropped Stiles off, he had to run a few errands for his mother, and Stiles went inside and got to work. He settled into his computer chair at his desk. He pulled out his laptop and started up the program.

At the end of an hour, Stiles had everything ready. He sent Scott a text to come pick him up. He sent Danny a similar text letting him know he was done with the RFID emulator and that he could pick it up.

Danny arrived before Scott and Stiles met up with him. As he was getting out of his car, Danny waved Stiles keys in the air, making Stiles suddenly very aware of how anxious he was without Roscoe’s keys within reach. The weight he didn’t realize he was carrying on his chest lightened. He made a mental note never to let Roscoe act as an assurance again. He trusted Danny, but the fact that he has subconsciously reacted in such a way perturbed him.

Stiles handed the backpack to Danny and Danny in turn tossed Stiles the keys. Stiles weighed the keys in his hand, feeling the cold metal provide some small comfort.

“I’ll give you a call when I need you.” Danny said before getting back into his car. Stiles knew Danny was referring to the wingman thing.  

Stiles would have liked to talk to Danny more, but Scott was pulling up in Lydia’s car and they were on a schedule.

“Alright. Thank you again, Danny. I appreciate the help.”

Danny waved to Scott as he pulled away.

“Just give me a moment, Scotty. I’ll grab my bag.”

Stiles ran into his house to retrieve his bag with his laptop and the key cards. He had gotten the bag ready before Danny showed up. He locked the front door behind him as he left the house, his keys spinning around his finger.

“Alright. Take me to my baby.”

“I still can’t believe you gave up your keys. Where did you park it?”

“Sacrifices had to be made. Never again though. Next time I’m using your bike as assurance. Coffee shop by the college campus.”

Scott made a strangled noise at the threat of his bike being taken away from him.

“I bought that bike, man. I worked hard for it.”

“Roscoe belonged to my mom.” Stiles replied quietly after a few moment of silence after Scott’s complaint. Scott turned away from the road for a moment to look at him.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t have to agree to Danny’s terms, we could have found another way.”

“It would have taken too long to find another way. I trust Danny, I just didn’t know I would be so anxious not having the keys within grasp or anything.” Stiles twirled the keys around his finger. “All safe and sound now.”

Stiles nearly flung himself out of Lydia’s car and onto the hood of his jeep when they arrived. Nearly. Rather than make a fool of himself, he calmly approached the vehicle. Stiles slid his hand along the hood of the jeep before he popped open the door and positioned himself behind the wheel. He turned the ignition and smiled at the familiar noise it made.

Stiles followed Scott to the loft. They had to go over the plan and pick up Erica for the little heist they were pulling tonight. The idea of the loft still bothered Stiles but not enough to prevent him from going back.

Sitting alone in the jeep left Stiles to his thoughts.

Stiles didn’t know how Erica had been chosen for this, but Scott assured him she would be perfect for the job. Stiles wasn’t so sure. He had met Erica for a brief amount of time. She was devious as far as he could tell, and that made her dangerous. He would have to watch her at the station and made sure she didn’t swipe anything off any shelves, or he could make her the look out.  

Maybe this thing with Barrow was the danger Lydia was so worried about. This had to be it, right? The two events, the dream and Barrow’s escape, occurred in a small amount of time. The two had to correlate.

They pulled into the creepy parking lot of the creepy seemingly abandoned building and walked up to the loft together. Stiles brought his bat and backpack with him. He didn’t need the bat, but he regretted not bringing it in with him the last time he was there. He didn’t plan on using it but it provided him with some comfort.

Neither Stiles or Scott spoke as they walked together. There wasn’t much to say.

Scott slid open the loft door and walked in. He waited for Stiles to follow him in before closing the door. Stiles looked around. He had the entire layout of the loft already memorized. He was his father’s son after all. Stiles was met by familiar faces. Everyone but Peter was there.

“Peter isn’t here.”

Stiles locked eyes with Derek and raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“What’s the plan?” Derek completely avoided the question but Stiles didn’t push it. He was grateful the psychotic werewolf wasn’t there. He may have forgiven Scott and basically the rest of the pack, but he still didn’t forgive nor did he trust Peter.

Stiles moved himself into the kitchen, knowing the pack would follow him there. He had the most space there to pull everything out. He placed his bat on the island and pulled his bag off his shoulder. Stiles pulled the key cards and a folded map of Beacon Hills out of his bag.

When Stiles looked up to share his information, he was surrounded. Not in the menacing way one might have expected with their history and distrust. They waited with patient faces for Stiles to share. Although he was pretty sure Erica was struggling to stay silent. She seemed the type of person crave recognition.

“Good job with the phone call, Erica. Scott told me you were the one who made the call and would be the one breaking in with us.”

Erica grinned. She straightened her posture and tossed her hair over her shoulder playfully.

“I have a knack for sounding very convincing.”

Stiles smiled. He was right about her deviousness.

“What did you say to them?” Stiles asked.

“There was a strange man, tall, pale, and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit him wandering the campus. I heard about this on the news. It’s that crazy man, isn’t it? Oh my god.” Stiles smiled at Erica’s impersonation of the stereotypical movie girl. “Or something like that.” She finished with a small shrug.

“Thank you for helping out.”

“It was fun. Any time you want to break the law, I’m your girl.”

Stiles grinned at Boyd’s eyeroll.

“Okay. So here are the cards. There are three of them.” Stiles held the first one up. “This one is for the perimeter door. It’s our way into the precinct.” He held up the second card. “This one is for the evidence room.” He held up the last card. “And last but not least, the Sheriff’s office. For emergency use only.” His eyes scanned his audience and he waited for each of them to nod.

“Alright. So I figure Scott and I will head in and retrieve the evidence, and Erica, you keep watch.”

“What? Why do you guys always get to do the cool, fun things?”

“Fine. Scott can be look out.”

“What? Come on, that’s not fair. This was my plan.”

“I will take Jackson instead then.” Stiles enjoyed the moment of panic that flashed across Jackson’s face. The guy was probably terrified of getting caught. It would go on his record unless his probably rich parents bailed him out and fought to keep it off his record.

“What? No! I’ll be look out.” Scott conceded.

“Good. Okay. Erica and I - don’t take anything that we don’t need, Erica - will go and get Barrow’s personal possessions. Then you guys can smell it and track it.” Stiles glanced between Scott and Erica.

“Before you try to track him, bring it back here. We will all do it.” Derek inserted.

Stiles nodded. It was probably a good idea to have the entire pack sniffing him out.

“Alright. I may have a better idea than coming back here, if we want to do it that way.” The glare Stiles received from Derek was somewhat intimidating.

Stiles continued on anyway. He unfolded the map of Beacon Hills he had brought with him. There were three spots circled, each labeled with a number one through three. “When I was in my dad’s office I took a look at the Barrow case.” Stiles pulled out his phone and pulled up the pictures he took of the file. “His file says he was an electrical engineer.”

“So?” Malia asked.

“So, if Barrow was an electrical engineer, he could be hiding out at an electrical power station. People stick to what they know. We get his possessions, you use your magic sniffers, and we hit the three stations.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Jackson was ever the optimist.

“If I’m wrong, what do you have to lose? A couple hours of your precious time?”

“Why even bother with the heist then? If we already know where he could be, why don’t we just split up and check them out?”

“Can you find him in an abandoned factory with thousands of other scents that you don’t recognize? If you can then by all means, let's just go ahead and spend hours trying to find him in one of these places. Besides, if I am wrong then it’s a good idea to have his scent.”

Stiles glanced around the room. Lydia was watching him with worry. Maybe she thought that the Barrow problem was related to her dream as well.

“Okay. We will go with your idea.”

Stiles nodded at Derek in appreciation. He honestly thought the Alpha would have shot down his idea and called it stupid, whether is was or not.

“Okay. Erica, Scott, and I will handle the police station. It should be relatively empty tonight, it's the weekend team, and my father is off duty tonight. We can all meet up at the ice skating rink, it’s closest to the center of the three points, and then- divide and conquer.”  

Stiles received a round of nods.

“What do you guys plan on doing with him when you find him?”

“Kill him.” Derek said it so easily. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“You want to just kill him?”

“He’s dangerous.”

“A lot of people are dangerous. You guys are dangerous. You don’t see me declaring you too dangerous to be left alive.”

Derek straightened and crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“I’d like to see you try to kill him.” Jackson chuckled. Stiles assumed he was imagining Derek clawing out Stiles’ throat.

“That's not the point! We should just turn him into the police. They will handle him.”

“And if he escapes again? If he actually successfully attacks and kills someone else?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He didn’t really know what to say. The silence seemed to drag on forever.

“I agree with Stiles.”

Stiles turned to Scott and gave him a small smile, feeling thankful for the support.

Derek didn’t say anything, just shook his head and continued to brood, so Scott picked up the conversation.

“Stiles, Isaac, and I can take the first location. Derek, Lydia, and Jackson, can take the second. And Erica, Boyd, and Malia can take the last one. Sound good?”

Derek shrugged and Stiles wanted to yell at him to use his words. A shrug didn’t tell them anything. Was it a “I don’t give a shit,” shrug or a “You’re right,” shrug or something else entirely. Derek was attractive, but at this point Stiles thought that was all this man had going for him.

“Why is he coming anyway? Like, I get that he should help with the police station because his dad is head cop, but to actually go after Barrow? He will just get in the way.”

Stiles hated Jackson sometimes.

“This is my plan too, Jackson. I’m going.” Stiles snapped.

“No, you’re not. You, stay.” Derek’s eyes flashed red at Stiles.

Alarms seemed to go off in Stiles’ mind. It was like being cornered by a very large, powerful animal. The Alpha had flashed his werewolf eyes at him but he was still breathing. For now at least. Maybe they would kill him after he lived through his usefulness. Stiles knew he was being ridiculous and that none of them were going to kill him, it didn’t stop him from thinking about it though. Stiles finally managed to form coherent sentences to reply with.

“You aren’t my Alpha. You don’t get to decide when I stay and when I go. I’m not one of your puppies.”

Stiles ignored the fact that several pack members, mainly Scott and Lydia, seemed to outwardly flinch when he declared himself not a pack member. The action surprised him. He had figured they just barely qualified as friends. It stuck him that he didn’t know much about pack dynamics and whether or not simple things like letting an outsider into one’s home held a different meaning to werewolves. Stiles so very much wanted to learn more about them. However, now was not the time to be considering such things.

At this moment in time he couldn’t have an overprotective pack with trust issues limiting or controlling his decisions. He didn’t care whose feelings he hurt. He was as much a part of this thing with Barrow as they were.

Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and anger. At least that’s how Stiles interpreted it. He was still learning how to interpret the eyebrow movement. They were micro expressions, Stiles had googled how to read faces and stumbled upon the study. Stiles had spent hours searching the web and watching videos on it.

Stiles was pretty sure that Derek was clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to restrain himself from knocking Stiles out. Stiles appreciated the gesture.

“No, but you’re a human. You’ll just get in the way.”

“Need I remind you that I’m the one who found Barrow in the first place? I came up with part of the plan. And,” Stiles added fiercely, “I am more than capable of handling myself.”

Derek let out a growl before reaching for Stiles’ metal bat. It was sitting on the counter next to the map. Derek tossed it at Stiles. Stiles flinched before he stumbled backward toward the main part of the loft as he tried to catch it. It landed in his hands clumsily. As he caught it something hooked itself behind his legs. It caught Stiles off guard and he fell backward abruptly. He landed on his backside and yelped at the impact.

His body slammed against the hard floor and he cursed at the pain that shot itself through his body. His eyes had shut momentarily before opening again. When Stiles’ vision cleared he took stock of  his surroundings and situation, piecing everything together. Derek was partially ontop of him with his claws lightly pressed against his neck.

“You would be dead right now.”

“You’re also a werewolf. Barrow is human.” Stiles managed in between his self-analysis of his injuries. Nothing was broken, just bruised and complaining.

“You have no idea what you are up against. Barrow is a murderer. You are just- just-”

“Human? Thank you for repeating the obvious for the hundredth time. I’m human, I know.” Stiles stated, his eyebrows rising and lowering as he spoke. Stiles sometimes really hated werewolves. “Because I’m human I’m useless, right? Because I’m clumsy, spastic, and have the attention span of an infant? I’ve heard it all before, the only difference was it came from my classmates and fellow humans rather than a bunch of werewolves. I’ll tell you something though, it hurts a hell of a lot more coming from them than it does from you.” Stiles didn’t yell. He didn’t have the energy to, he was mentally and emotionally worn out.

Stiles gave Derek a rough shove against his broad chest with the bat, pushing the Alpha werewolf away. He stood slowly, rejecting Scott’s outstretched hand, and rolled his neck. Derek rose to his feet much slower than Stiles did.

“I’m going with you guys, whether you like it or not. I may be human, but that doesn’t make me any weaker than you guys. Cute power play move though, however, just because I normally bottom doesn’t mean I’ll just roll over and play nice.”

Stiles thought he heard a small gagging noise come from Jackson but he ignored it. He couldn’t help that humor, sarcasm, and innuendos were his instinctive defence mechanism.

When Derek didn’t say anything, Stiles took it as a good sign.

“Scotty, we should get going.” Stiles finally turned toward Scott. He was seeing Scott’s angry expression for the first time, and it wasn’t directed at him. Scott’s anger was directed at Derek.

“Scotty. Let’s go. Erica, you coming? We’ll see the rest of you at the ice skating rink” Stiles placed everything back into his bag and turned toward the loft door.

“Yeah. Right behind you.”

When Erica caught up to him she looped her arm through his.

“In another life I would totally be in love with you. That was hot.” She said with a playful smile resting on her lips. Stiles recalled his previous thought of being in love with Lydia in another life and smiled.

“Careful, Boyd might hear you.”

She gave him a small shrug.

“He knows.”

Stiles let out a small laugh.

Scott, Erica, and Stiles piled into his jeep. Stiles drove in silence while Erica talked the whole way. He was content in just listening to her. She was still hung up on Stiles falling onto his ass and getting back up with dignity.

Outside of the station, Erica finally fell silent and Stiles called his dad.

“Hey, dad.”

“Stiles.”

“You still at work?”

“No. I just pulled into our driveway.”

“Okay. Make sure you eat the chicken wrap I left you in the fridge.”

“Alright. You called just for that? Really? Have fun at Scott’s.”

“I’m not fifteen anymore, dad. We don’t-”

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

His father hung up on him and Stiles huffed in annoyance.

“Ready?” Scott asked from the back seat. Erica had called shotgun and Stiles couldn’t bring himself to break the shotgun rule even with Scott’s puppy eyes looking at him with overwhelming sadness and disappointment.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The three of them crouched by the perimeter door of the precinct and Stiles rehashed the plan. Erica rolled her eyes and repeatedly told him that she knew not to take anything they didn’t need and that she knew the plan.

Stiles slid the first card into the scanner of the service door by the dumpster. Stiles knew for a fact that no one used it, he was at the station often enough to basically know everyone's usual schedule. The door opened with a little beep and Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Okay, Scott. You wait here. Text me if there is someone coming or if there is an emergency.”

“Got it.”

Stiles pushed the door open and entered the station. Erica followed closely behind him. The two of them stayed low as they crept through the building. The back office was empty and the lights were dimmed but Stiles knew that at any moment someone could walk through the doors. Stiles turned to Erica, raised his eyebrows and tapped his ears. He wanted to know if she could hear anything. She cocked her head to the side before shaking it. Stiles nodded and the two moved forward. They stayed low and moved quickly across the room. Stiles had the second key out and ready before they reached the locked door. He slid the key down the reader and a beep signaled the approval. He opened the door in one fluid motion and closed it behind Erica.

“We are looking for a box with Barrow’s name on it.” Stiles whispered. Erica nodded in understanding and the two of them took opposite sides of the room to search for it. The occasional ruffling of moving boxes or plastic spiked Stiles’ anxiety. His thoughts were screaming “too much noise, too much noise!” at him as he and Erica searched. He pushed the thoughts aside. He knew they weren’t actually making that much noise.

Erica was the one to find it.

“Stiles.”

Stiles made his way over to her. She had removed a box from the top of a filing cabinet. He hunched over where it sat on the floor and pulled it open. Inside, wrapped in several plastic evidence bags, were Barrow’s possessions and the bloody hospital gown he had been wearing.

“They will notice it’s gone at some point. We need to hurry up and find him before then.”

Erica nodded her understanding and reached inside the box for the hospital gown. Stiles placed the box back on the filing cabinet and crouched back down next to Erica. They had what they came for, they could leave now.

When Stiles reached to open the evidence room door, Erica grabbed his arm and prevented him from opening it. He glanced at her and she shook her head. Just as understanding struck Stiles, the office door opened. Stiles and Erica were safely hidden in the evidence room but Stiles could feel his heart rate increase in response to the fear building up inside his chest. The Deputy, Stiles didn’t know who, walked past the evidence door and retrieved something from one of the desks in the back office. Stiles and Erica waited for the Deputy to leave. It felt like years before the unexpected Deputy was gone.

With Erica’s approval, Stiles eased the door open slightly and waited a few moments before pulling it open fully. The two of them hurried to the other side of the room, moving behind the desks to keep out of sight of the windows. Stiles felt incredible lucky.

Finally outside, Stiles could breathe a little easier. His anxiety had died down a bit. Stiles could feel the rush of adrenaline move throughout his body. They had done it. They stole from the evidence lock up in the station.

Stiles wanted to throw up; just a tiny bit.

Scott looked very relieved to see them exit through the service door.

“Dude, your dad just pulled up. I was gonna call you in like twenty seconds.”

“My dad?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is he doing back here?”

Scott shrugged.

Stiles slid his hand through his hair and watched Erica fiddle with the evidence bag. Her nose crinkled with disgust as she opened the bag.

“This is disgusting.”

“What did you expect?”

Stiles whipped out his cellphone and dialed his father’s number before pressing enter and putting the phone next to his ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling my dad.” Stiles replied to Scott.

His father answered the phone and Stiles turned away from Scott.

“What’s up, Stiles?”

“Hey, dad. Sorry to trouble you. I left a piece of paper on my desk that I need and I was hoping you could just go take a picture of it and text it to me.”

“I would kid, but I got called back into the station.”

“What? Why?” Stiles feigned surprise.

“A missing person’s was just filed. You and Scott be careful, alright?”

“Of course, dad.”

“I’m sorry I’m not home to send you what you need.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at home.”

Stiles hung up and turned toward Scott.

“A missing person in Beacon Hills? What are the chances that this is completely unrelated to Barrow.”

Scott shook his head.

“Very low.”

“Great. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The Heist Squad, that’s what Stiles decided to call himself, Scott, and Erica because they deserved an awesome team name after the stuff they just pulled, headed to the meet up point.

Everyone was there when Stiles pulled Roscoe into the parking lot. Stiles let out a low whistle. There was an impressive mini line up of vehicles, a sleek black camaro sat parked next to a silver porsche. Even Lydia’s Toyota prius fit in with them better than Stiles’ jeep did.

“You guys got it?” Isaac raised his eyes in disbelief.

“Of course. It was a genius plan.” Stiles defended.

A head nod was Isaac’s simple reply.

“Good job.”

Stiles couldn’t help his smug smile that followed Derek’s acknowledgement of their success. He had a feeling Derek wasn’t the type to hand out compliments and encouragements willy-nilly.

It must have been an odd sight, a group of nine people standing awkwardly in the middle of the ice skating rink parking lot. Erica brought the evidence bag with her. The odd sight got weirder when a few of the members began passing around and smelling the clear bag with bloody rags inside.

“Just rip it and take a piece with you.”

“This is police evidence.”

The ripping noise generally associated with ripping clothing silenced any more of Stiles’ protests. Instead of focussing his attention on the group he let his mind wander.

The skating rink was still open, as it would be until nine. Stiles kind of wanted to abandon the plan and go ice skating. His eyes lingered on the rink for a moment too long and when he turned, Lydia and Stiles locked eyes. She gave him a knowing look and the memory of skating with her resurfaced. He could feel the skates against the ice, the sound of metal connecting with ice, voices distant, and the cold touch of ice on his skin whenever he fell.

Malia’s voice broke his reverie.

“Alright. Let’s find this bastard.”

Isaac followed Stiles and Scott to the jeep and silently got in the backseat. They rode together in silence. It was the eery kind of silence that haunted ones nightmares. Stiles wanted to enjoy the silence in a positive way but it made him feel as if they were heading straight for their deaths.

The drive seemed to take forever but they got there. Stiles followed Scott out of the vehicle and toward the factory. It was like one of those scenes from the many horror movies Stiles had watched. He was acting like one of the stupid characters that wandered straight into danger. Having werewolves by his side made him feel only a little better.

“Do you guys smell anything?”

“I only smell electricity.”

“Electricity has a smell?”

“Everything has a smell, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced around the abandoned area. The werewolves could smell electricity but nothing else.

“Should we take a look inside?”

Isaac’s phone rang and he answered it quickly.

“Yeah? - Okay, I’ll let them know.” Isaac hung up.

“That was Boyd. They didn’t find anything. They are headed over to Derek.”

“But what if he is here?”

“I don’t smell him. Scott, do you?”

“No.”

“There you go.”

“The scent of electricity if overpowering your senses. We don’t-” Stiles cut himself off and turned back to the power station. Stiles whispered his next thoughts. “He is here.”

“We just said we don’t smell him.”

“Yeah, I got that. It’s because you smell electricity.”

“Yeah?”

“This is one of the abandoned stations. You shouldn’t be able to smell that.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot upward and he turned toward the power station.

“Oh.”

“I’ll call Boyd and Derek.”

“You do that. Scotty and I are going to have a peek inside.”

“We are?”

“Yes, Scott. Aren’t you supposed to be a brave werewolf?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Good. Then lead the way.”

Stiles brought his metal bat with him as they made their way into the building. Isaac would be following after them shortly.

“We should wait for backup.”

“There is no way Barrow doesn’t know we are already here, Scott. He could take off by the time they get here. You got this, you’re a werewolf.”

“I know what I am, Stiles.”

“No, really? I was sitting here thinking that you had confused yourself with being a chicken or something.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

The two quieted.

Stiles gripped his bat as they got farther into the building. The sound of electricity popping and crackling filled his ears. He instinctively flinched the first couple times before adjusting to it.

They entered a room lined with metal boxes Stiles assumed were transformers and the like. The occasional metal fence cordoned off specific pieces.

The first thing Stiles noticed was the lack of Barrow, the second thing was the girl tied up to one of the fences. Scott was already by her side, moving her hair away from her face and checking to see if she was conscious.

Stiles turned his focus away from the girl and Scott. He could hear the electricity buzzing  but he couldn’t see it. Stiles heard a shoe hit the ground quietly and swung his bat as he turned toward the person creeping up behind him. Stiles pulled the bat back just in time for avoid striking Isaac. He let out a breathe of relief. He was glad it hadn’t actually been Barrow behind him.

“What the hell, Stiles!” Isaac looked pissed and somewhat terrified by the fact that he almost got a bat to the face.

“You shouldn’t creep up on people like that.”

“So you want me to just announce myself to the entire room?”

“It’s better than getting a bat to the face.”

“I would have dodged.”

“You are such a liar.”

A yell of surprise and pain cut off any retort Isaac may have had.

Stiles whipped around to face Scott. Isaac was already shifted and lunging across the room by the time Stiles registered Barrow holding a electrical wire. The wire was spewing white sparks.

Scott was writhing on the floor beside the girl with jet black hair. She was still tied up but appeared to be coming to. Her head rolled back against the metal fence and she was struggling to open her eyes. Stiles elected to let Scott and Isaac handle Barrow, so he dropped to his knees beside the girl opposite of Scott. He could hear the sound of fighting and electricity behind him as he spoke to her.

“Hey, hey. You okay? What’s your name?”

“Kira.”

“Hi, Kira. I’m Stiles. We are accidently rescuing you.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a weird name-”

“Not that. Can you untie me?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Stiles reached behind her and struggled with the wire.

Stiles risked a glance toward Isaac and Scott. Scott was finally back on his feet and he and Isaac were doing their best to avoid the sparks of electricity spewing from Barrow’s weapon of choice. Stiles turned back to Kira. She had her eyes open, honestly Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised, and they were glowing. The golden hue was vibrant and dangerous.

“Tell me you aren’t a werewolf.”

“What? No!” Kira looked surprised and off center by the accusation. After a hesitant moment she answered. “I’m a Kitsune.”

“No idea what that is. Okay. Just another addition to the giant list of shit I don’t know about the supernatural.” Stiles went back to work on the wires tangling around Kira.

“Who are you?”

“Stiles. Please don’t tell me you have a concussion and memory loss going on right now.”

“No. I know your name. What are you people doing here? How did you find this place?”

“We were tracking Barrow. Aha!” Stiles pulled the wire apart and freed Kira from the fence.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here, let’s get you out of here.”

“I’m fine. I can handle myself.” Kira grunted as she made a move to stand. Stiles instinctively reached out to give her a hand. Rather than turn him away, Kira took his hand with a small nod of thanks. “On second thought, it looks like your friends have it under control.”

Stile stole a glance in Scott’s and Isaac’s direction. They had Barrow cornered and seemed to be in mostly one piece.

“Yeah. Back up is on it’s way, they should be here in a few minutes.”

Kira leaned on Stiles and the nearby metal fence for support.

They made it a few feet down the fence and toward the exit before a mild electrical shock ran through Stiles’s body and for a few moments his limbs failed him. Kira let go of him and the shock stopped.

Stiles struggled to collect himself, willing his heart to regulate it’s beating pattern. It felt as if one of those joy buzzer devices had shocked his entire body rather than just his hand. Stiles watched Kira fall to her knees in his peripheral, however not in the same manner he did. She appeared to be drawing electricity from the fence.

Stiles glanced over to where Scott, Isaac, and Barrow were. Scott and Isaac had Barrow pinned to the fence, that unfortunately meant that the electrical line he was using to injure the werewolves was sending currents through the fence.

“Scott!” Stiles’ voice croaked as he yelled Scott’s name. Scott glanced over and Stiles could see the situation register in Scott’s eyes.

Kira finally seemed to have finally gathered the strength to unclench her fingers and free herself from the fence.

“You okay?” Stiles tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She huffed and struggled to take in air, “Perk of being a Kitsune.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles led Kira down the way Scott, Isaac, and he had come in. They stumbled out just as a black camaro, silver porsche, and prius flew into the makeshift parking lot. The brakes were slammed and the next thing Stiles knew someone was pulling his unused bat from his hand and helping him support Kira.

“Is Barrow in there?”

It was Derek. Derek had his hand firmly placed against Stiles’ lower back, guiding him toward the cars.

“Yeah. Scott and Isaac had him pinned. I didn’t know he would put up such a fight.”

“Okay. Boyd and I will go in and give them a hand. The rest of you stay out here.”

“Derek, this power station shouldn’t be online. It might overload the system and cause a city wide blackout.”

“We’ll be careful.”

Stiles felt the cold rush him when Derek removed his hand. Sure, his body ached a little less, but he was suddenly aware of the cold breeze blowing.

“Who is she?”

Stiles led Kira toward his jeep. She was limping so he moved slowly.

“Erica, this is Kira. She is a Kitsune.”

“A what-in-ae?”

“Kitsune. No idea what it is. Sounds cool though, right?”

Kira slid gracefully into the passenger seat of Stiles’ jeep, her head resting against the seat.

Stiles didn’t like waiting outside. He wanted to be inside where the action was, helping them take down Barrow.

Would now be the time to call his father?

No. Probably not.

Stiles decided it would be a good idea to wait. It was too big of a risk with the werewolves shifting to fight. He tapped his fingers against the side of his leg as he watched the doorway with anticipation.

A loud boom erupted from the building and Stiles jolted in surprise. His arms shot up and over his head and he stumbled backward a bit. The group around him seemed to mimic his actions.

Stiles turned toward Jackson.

“Tell me you hear electricity.”

Jackson shook his head.

“It’s dead quiet now.”

“Great. That’s just great. I told him. I fucking told him.”

Stiles was ninety-nine percent sure that the town would be going through a blackout. He hoped everyone inside was fine, and if they were he would be giving them a major talking to. The police certainly knew about this now, they were probably sending an officer this way. Stiles made his way over the passenger’s side of the jeep and popped open the door.

“Sorry.” Stiles apologized to Kira as he reached into the glovebox to retrieve the police radio he had borrowed. Sure enough dispatch had just issued the order to check it out. In addition to Parish responding to the call, his father responded as well. He listened for a while before he shoved the police scanned back into it’s home and left Kira alone in the jeep once again.

“Dammit.” Stiles resisted the urge to chew on his finger nails.

Movement caught his attention.

Isaac, Scott, Boyd, and Derek exited the building. No Barrow in sight. Stiles assumed the worst. Derek still had Stiles’ bat in his hand and Stiles felt a little smug that the werewolf had taken it inside with him. Although he could have taken it in just to make sure Stiles didn’t follow them. Stiles liked to think it was for another reason entirely, although he didn’t know what reason specifically.

“You guys need to get out of here. Police are on their way. Barrow?”

“He killed himself.”

“He what?” That hadn’t been what Stiles had been expecting.

“Trust me, it wasn’t something we had been expecting. We agreed not to kill him.”

“I know. I trust you guys. Why would he kill himself though?”

“Can we save this for later? Some of us have already dealt with enough cops for one lifetime.”

As much as Stiles wanted to argue and think about all of this now, Derek was right. It would have to wait.

“What about her?” Lydia gestured toward Stiles’ jeep.

Stiles followed Lydia’s line of sight. Kira sat, looking rather nervous, in the passenger seat of his jeep.

“I’ll stay with her.” Stiles supplied

“Me too.”

“Good thinking, Scott. Not like that wasn’t already the plan.”

Scott gave his a small smile and shrug. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“We can talk to her when the police are handled.”

The group broke apart heading to their respective cars. Rather than stick around with Scott, Stiles, and Kira, Isaac took off toward Lydia’s car where Erica and Boyd were already piling in.

The feeling of having forgot something ghosted Stiles’ brain. It took a moment before it struck him.

“Derek!”

Derek turned back toward Stiles and raised his eyebrows in response.

“My bat.” Stiles pointed at the object.

Derek looked down at the bat in his hand before looking up at Stiles. He walked a few paces back towards Stiles before tossing him the bat. This time Stiles was ready. Stiles caught the bat with ease.

Stiles didn’t miss the small smile that appeared and disappeared on Derek’s face. It didn’t last long, but Stiles had seen it. It made Stiles smile to himself.

Chapter Text

“Stiles.”

“Sheriff.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I found you at a crime scene.”

“Oh, right. That. You see…”

“No games, Stiles.”

“I saved someone. Scott and I saved someone. My bad. Next time I’ll just turn around and walk away.”

“That’s not what I meant. What the hell were you doing here in the first place? How did you find him? Barrow’s a dangerous person!”

“I made a guess through deductive reasoning. Scott and I thought it would be cool. An abandoned power station late at night! Come on, we didn’t actually think we would find him. Lucky we did though cause uh, Kira would be dead.”

“Stiles, I’m serious-”

“So am I!”

The Sheriff ran a hand down his face and they stood there quietly for a few moments. His father sighed and Stiles knew he had won the argument. Could it even count as an argument? Stiles knew his father was just worried.

Stiles didn’t feel great about lying to his father. It was a moment longer before his father spoke again.

“You found yourselves here in the right place at the right time. I’ll give you kids that. You saved a girl’s life tonight.”

“What can I say? I take after my pops.”

Stiles was standing a few yards from his jeep talking with his father while Scott was sitting calmly in the passenger seat. Kira had been escorted by Parish to the Deputy’s vehicle, apparently she was the missing person the Sheriff had gotten a call about.

When the police had arrived they cordoned off the building and interrogated Stiles, Scott, and Kira. During this time, crime scene photos were taken and the coroner had removed Barrow’s body from the building.

“You are going to have to come back to the station though, son. Both of you.”

“I know. I’ll follow you down to the station.”

His father gave him a look before clapping his hand against Stiles’ shoulder.

“You did good, kid. You’re not off the hook though. We have a city wide power outage on our hands now.”

Stiles watched his father walk away. Alone again, Stile yawned involuntarily, making him realize just how tired he actually was. The adrenaline of everything had started to wear off. He shuffled his feet back toward Roscoe and got into the vehicle.

“So?” Scott asked.

“What, you weren’t listening in?”

“No. I don’t enjoy invading people’s privacy.”

“We have to go down to the station for our statements.”

“Didn’t we do that already?”

“That wasn’t really a statement, Scott. We kind of just blurted out a quick makeshift story. It’ll go down as self defence in addition to Barrow’s suicide. Thank you for taking the heat on that.”

“You weren’t even in there when it happened, it seemed like the best thing to say.”

It had been an unspoken unanimous agreement to keep anything supernatural related out of their retelling on the events. Kira had told the officers that Barrow had knocked her out when she went to retrieve the mail and she had woken up tied to the fence when Stiles and Scott arrived. She left out her glowing eyes and interaction with the electricity. Stiles hadn’t needed to change much of his story. He had gotten Kira out of there, and that had been that. Scott had told the Sheriff that after Stiles and Kira had gotten out, Barrow attacked him. Scott then claimed to use a technique from lacrosse to knock Barrow back against one of the metal fences. Barrow had electrocuted himself with the power line and the metal fence, although it was unclear whether that was actually intentional or not.

Stiles turned the ignition and the beautiful noise, caused by Roscoe’s ducttaped engine chugging to life, filled his ears.

“Let’s go get this over with. Did you call your mom? The hospital’s power is probably out.”

“I didn’t. I’ll do that now though.”

Stiles focused on driving behind the Sheriff’s cruiser while Scott called his mom.

“Hey, mom. - Yeah, we’re fine. - I know, power is out everywhere. - We may have been involved. - Stiles knows, mom. - No, he figured it out. - I’m sorry. - I will. - Okay, you too.”

Stiles could only hear half of the conversation but he could pretty much guess what Melissa McCall was saying based off of Scott’s answers.

When Scott ended the call he turned to Stiles.

“My mom says you're a little shit.”

Stiles grinned. He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t the first time he had been called that.

“I wrote an essay for her, I don’t know how I could possibly be a little shit.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Did she like it?”

“Yeah. She suggested I get you to tutor me.”

Stiles’ grin only grew.

“She’s still pissed at you for not telling her you knew.”

“We agreed that it was good that I hadn’t told her.”

“Yeah, but-”

“I’ll apologize to her. Maybe I’ll bake her something.”

“You can cook?”

“What can I say? I’m a jack of all trades.”

They rode the rest of the way making small talk and going over the day’s events. It had been one hell of a day. Stiles hoped a day like this was a once in a lifetime type of thing.

“You think I’ll see her again?”

“Who?”

“Kira.”

“Uhh. Why?”

“She seemed nice.”

Stiles’ eyes widened in realization and a goofy smile touched his lips.

“You have a crush.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just worried about her.”

“Dude, she is fine. You saved her life. I thought it was interesting to find out she is a Kitsune though. Never heard of one of those before.”

“Yeah. You think she is okay though?”

“Yes, Scott. Parish with take care of her. They will notify her parents and everything.”

Stiles stole a glance in Scott’s direction. His friend seemed to be stuck in thought, looking rather pathetic.

“I’m sure you will see her again, Scott. She will probably be at the station when we get there. You can go up to her, say hi, and talk to her all you want.”

“Is it weird to do that the night she got attacked?”

“I don’t know Scott. I've never helped save someone's life before. I don’t know what is weird and what isn’t anymore.”

“Right.”

“Why do you always assume I know the answer to things?”

Scott shrugged.

“You handle everything so well. The werewolf thing, the kidnapping, breaking into the station, Barrow. I’ve been dealing with the werewolf thing for years and I still don’t know everything or have the calm you do.”

“I am not calm, Scott. Like- ever. The whole thing with breaking into the station? Terrified me. If we had gotten caught I’m pretty sure my dad would never trust me again.”

“Then why did you help us?”

“Because it needed to be done. If I can help, I’m going to help. I’m not gonna turn and run away just because I’m scared.”

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“You’re welcome, Scott.”

“I mean it. You really -”

“Shut up, Scott.”

The station was at completely dark. A few battery run lights lit up the main room. It was only the Sheriff, Parish, Kira, Scott, and Stiles. Everyone else was out trying to handle the power outage.

“Alright. I know none of you want to be here, but I have a feeling that now is the best time to do this so let’s handle this quickly. Stiles, you first.”

Parish cleared his throat and turned toward Stiles.

“Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

“Scott and I were just hanging out.”

“You were just hanging out at an abandoned power station?”

“No. We thought it would be kind of cool to check this place out. We didn’t actually think we would find anything.”

“Alright. What happened when you got to the power station?”

The whole thing didn’t take very long. Stiles went first, Scott went second, and then it was Kira’s turn. Kira had caught on very quickly to what Scott and Stiles didn’t want to be said about Barrow or the entire night in general.

“They saved my life.”

Stiles watched Scott struggle to keep from beaming. It was obvious to Stiles that Scott liked to help people.  

“Alright. Kira, Parish can give you a ride home-”

“We can take her.”

Stiles turned to Scott and raised his eyebrows. Scott had just offered up Stiles’ services. Scott gave him a small shrug and Stiles caved.

“Kira, if you want a ride, Scott and I don’t mind giving you a ride.”

Kira glanced between Scott and Stiles before nodding.

“Sure.”

As the three of them turned to leave the station, Stiles’ father called out to him.

“Stiles. You mind staying for a moment longer?”

Stiles tossed Scott the jeep keys and turned back to his dad. He crossed his arms and waited for the room to clear. Parish excused himself and Scott and Kira headed to the jeep.

“What’s up?”

“Please be more careful, Stiles. Finding out you were involved- I’m just worried. You and Scott have had a rocky relationship since the beginning and I want you to be safe.”

That hadn’t been what Stiles was expecting. Not even close. His father looked so concerned.

“I know. I’m sorry. We didn’t think anything like that was going to happen.”

His father nodded as he stood from where he was leaning against a table. His father gestured for him to come closer and Stiles complied. The hug was warm and careful. His father gave him a small squeeze and they parted. It had only lasted a few seconds but Stiles continued to feel the warmth of the hug even after they parted.

“Now get out of here. I probably won’t be home until late with the power being out and all.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry about that.”

“Take care of Kira, alright? Make sure she gets home safe.”

“Okay.”

Stiles exited the station feeling a weight pressing against his chest. He hated lying to his father. How bad could it be to just tell him the truth? Then again, he was pretty sure his father had stopped listening to a lot of what he said since Stiles had learned how to lie. The older Stilinski wouldn’t believe him. Claudia would though. His mother would.

Stiles shook the thoughts from his head as he approached Roscoe. The rattling of the engine made pushing thoughts of his mother aside much harder but he managed. Scott was sitting in the back while Kira was sitting in the front. They were talking about something; whatever it was it made Kira smile.

Stiles tapped the hood of the jeep lightly as he walked around to the driver’s side as not to startle Kira by just opening the door and getting in. Stiles settled himself in the seat before taking a breath and turning to Kira.

“Do you know the way to your place from here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Navi, let’s get you home.”

Stiles shifted the jeep into reverse and began pulling out of the parking space. He watched Kira mouth something to Scott.

“Navigator.” Scott replied quietly.

There was a quiet “oh, okay” that followed in response.

The ride was quiet except for Kira giving Stiles directions to her place. He knew the roads well and knew the general area of where she lived based on the address she rattled off, but having the directions verbally spoken really helped. There were little to know cars on the road, probably due to the deputies driving around and asking people to stay off the road unless it was an emergency.

Stiles pulled up and parked in front of Kira’s house. The entire neighborhood was dark except for one house down the street which was probably running a generator.

“Thank you. For saving my life. And the ride. I know you guys have your own secrets but now you know mine. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone.” Scott supplied quickly.

“Kira, if you don’t mind me asking, what is a Kitsune?”

“It’s a fox spirit. It kind of runs in the family. A Kitsune is a trickster.”

“It runs in the family? So your parents know?”

“Yeah. My mom is a Celestial Kitsune. I get is from her.”

“A Celestial- Okay. We are going to have to talk about what happened tonight at some point, Kira.”

Kira nodded.

“I know. Scott gave me his number.”

Of course he did.

“Okay. When the power is back on we can meet somewhere. Try not to tell your parents too much.”

“They are going to want to know.”

“I know, but foxes and wolves don’t get along in the wild.”

Kira nodded and Stiles ended the conversation there.

“Scott, why don’t you walk Kira to the door?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Stiles waited in the jeep while Scott walked Kira to the door. They spoke for a moment before Scott made his way back to the jeep.

With Scott in the passenger seat, Stiles shifted the jeep into drive.

“Where are we going?”

“The loft.”

Stiles outwardly groaned.

“We can’t just call it a night and go home?”

“Stiles-”

“Fine.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Okay.”

Stiles was careful when driving down the empty and blacked out streets. With the lights not working it was especially frightening to be driving.

“Derek also has a generator.”

“Good for him.”

“You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m tired, Scott. I got shocked by I-don’t-know-how-many volts of electricity. Barrow is dead. There is a Kitsune involved now. I had to lie to my dad. I’m just tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles didn’t say anything in response to Scott’s apology, He didn’t even know why he was feeling upset and hurt over the night. The plan was mostly a success, they saved Kira’s life. It was supposed to feel good, so why did it feel like it wasn’t over?

Stiles parked the jeep and together he and Scott made their way up to the loft. True to his word, Derek did in fact have a generator. The pack was gathered in the main part of the loft, a laptop in front of them. Whatever they had been watching was paused and forgotten when Scott opened the loft door and the two of them walked in.

“How’d it go?” Isaac asked.

“Fine. Self defence. Left our statements and took Kira home.”

“She agreed to speak to us sometime soon about what happened tonight.” Scott added.

“Are you okay?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. The unexpected question had been directed at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t have to watch Barrow kill himself.”

“Yeah, but you’re-”

“I will seriously hit you with my bat if you use the word human.”

“I just meant that-”

“Isaac, drop it.” Derek spoke this time.

“You said Kitsune?” Peter spoke from his place on the stairs.

“Yeah. A fox spirit. It apparently runs in the family.” Scott supplied. Stiles was feeling very grateful for Scott’s mediation between himself and Peter.

“Foxes and wolves don’t get along, you shouldn’t have left-”

“She is a person. You don’t leave people stranded without help.” Stiles interjected.

“I was just going to suggest you scare her a bit to keep her from talking.”

“She won’t. Anyway, that’s not the thing we need to talk about right now.”

“Then what is, Stiles?” Derek again.

“How did Barrow know?”

The room was silent. Stiles didn’t say anything. He wanted to see what they came up with. He already voiced his concern over the possible leak. Matt Daehler. He took photographs of the teen and countless of other people. If being a Kitsune worked anything like being a werewolf, then something would have shown in photos of Kira. Stiles didn’t want to accuse Matt of anything. They were friends after all. He so very much wanted Matt to not be involved but there were only so many things he could think of. Maybe Matt produced the photos and left them somewhere and Barrow ran across them. Maybe Barrow didn’t see the photographs at all. Maybe he saw one of them shift.

“You mentioned someone before.” Of course Derek remembered that.

“Alright, but if it’s not him. How could he even be working with Barrow. Come up with something else. It has to be something else.”

“And if it is him?”

“Who the heck are you guys talking about?” Jackson interrupted.

“Matt Daehler.” Stiles bit his lip and crossed his arms.

“The dude that is always taking photos of people on campus?”

Stiles nodded.

“If it’s Matt then how do we not know you aren’t involved in all of this? You are always talking to him at practice. How do we know you aren’t the one working with Barrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Knock it off, Jackson. Stiles wouldn’t do that.”

“How do we know? Like really know. He said it himself. He used the photos to figure out what we are. How do we know he doesn’t have a grudge against the supernatural of something?”

Voices were raised and Stiles was hating every moment spent in the lost. Peter had piped in in support of Jackson’s theory, Scott and Lydia were defending Stiles and Stiles wanted to go home and sleep.

“Enough! All of you, quiet.” Derek’s voice boomed through the loft and everyone fell silent. The sound made by the generator was the only noise that reverberated through the room.

“Jackson does have a point. This can’t be a coincidence but I don’t think Stiles had anything to do with Barrow. Someone was helping Barrow though and this Matt kid is our only lead. So we follow the lead. Okay?”

Stiles was a little shocked to hear Derek defend him against accusations of involvement but there was a million reasons he could have said that. One of which could have been because Stiles was in the room. If you were suspicious of someone, the smart thing to do was to not let them know you were on to them. Another reason could have been that he just didn’t think Stiles was capable of planning such an elaborate thing. Either way, Stiles didn’t feel great about it.

“Okay. So how do we precede?” Stiles asked rather calmly.

“We need to figure out a connection between Barrow and Matt. Something had to have happened that connects them.”

“So we check their history.” Lydia piped in. “We go over anything that could have happened to Matt that made his path cross with Barrow’s.”

“Okay. We don’t confront him until we know anything for sure. Understood?” Derek looked pointedly at Jackson. Jackson shifted on the couch but nodded.

“If it’s not Matt, we need to be thinking of other reasons for what happened. Scott, you need to talk to Kira. We need to know everything she knows. We need to figure this out before someone else gets hurt or goes after the pack again.”

Stiles actually enjoyed watching this aspect of the pack dynamic. Something about seeing the younger werewolves and other pack members listen to their Alpha. They each had a place in the pack, a role, something they each contributed. Stiles tried to imagine having something like that. It was like a second family.

“Alright. If that’s settled, I’m going home. Scott, you need a ride or are you staying?”

“I think I’m gonna stay for a while longer. I’ll walk you down though.”

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah, Lyds?”

“Thank you for helping us.”

“Yeah.”

Scott and Stiles made their way down to where the jeep was parked.

“Be safe on the road.”

“I will. I’ll let you know if my dad says anything about Barrow.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles pulled away from the building and inched his way down the roads toward home.

True to his word, the Sheriff didn’t get home until early morning the next day. Stiles had spent most of the night sitting on the couch awake and waiting for his father. Stiles had spent an hour thinking about going to the hospital to make sure he was fine after being electrocuted but he felt fine. He didn’t want to waste money for a doctor he didn’t need to see.

The power had come on two hours before the Sheriff turned up exhausted.

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“I did.”

“Yeah? For how long.”

“A couple hours.”

“If your meds aren’t working we can go back and get the prescription checked, Stiles.”

“It’s not the meds. I’m fine. I was just worried about you.”

“Kid, I’m the one who is worried about you.”

“You still have to go to your shift today?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a couple hours of shut-eye before taking a shower and heading back in. There is still a lot needs to be handled after the blackout.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, kid. Go get some more sleep, please. You have class.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Right. I meant tomorrow. Goodnight, kid.”

“Night, dad.”

With his father finally home, Stiles made his way upstairs to his room. Even if he couldn’t actually fall asleep he could do something useful like research Kitsunes and Barrow’s past.

Chapter Text

The week following the power station incident went by and Friday night had come faster than expected, but Stiles was a man of his word.

Most of the time.

And this would be one of those times.

Scott had brought up the entire bet on Wednesday after lacrosse practice. They made plans to do it that Friday night and Stiles agreed. He had lost the bet, and a deal was a deal, he had to go to packnight. Besides, they needed a break.

They were still trying to figure out if Matt was connected or if Barrow had found the information on his own or from someone else. Stiles had tried to talk to him before lacrosse practice but Matt had brushed him off and left without a word. It was hard not to think Matt was involved with the odd way he was acting. Maybe he was just sick.

Stiles decided they really needed to hit the reset button before one of them, mainly the restless werewolves, went off the deep end.

What the hell was a packnight anyway? Did they shift and run around the woods yelling at the moon? Did they just wressle on the ground and play fight? Did they just sit at the loft and watch a movie or play games or something?

He could see the latter, with alcohol involved, being pretty fun. Scott had told him that werewolves couldn’t get drunk unless the drink was laced with wolfsbane.

Maybe he would make a few suggestions for the activities of their night.

Stiles was mentally preparing himself for the limitless possible outcomes for what a packnight entailed when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stiles. Calling in that favor tonight.”

It took Stiles a few milliseconds to realize Danny was talking about the wingman favor.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. A deal is a deal, man. If you are backing out on it-”

“No! I’m not. I said I would do it so I will. It’s not like I couldn’t use a night out-”

“Alright then. I’ll meet you at Sinema tonight.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Danny hung up and Stiles pressed his phone to his lips in thought. He couldn’t break either of the deals, not Scott’s packnight and not Danny’s wingman favor. Stiles had just dug himself into a hole. He should have asked Danny if they could reschedule. In the moment on the phone with Danny his mind had totally blanked and forgotten his other obligations.

Maybe he could ask Scott to reschedule.

No, that wouldn’t be a good idea with so many people involved in the plan. It would be better to just ask Danny to reschedule.

Stiles sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration. This was supposed to be a night to reset after the hellish week he had just experienced. It would make everything easier if the two could be done at the same time.

At the same time.

Stiles’ eyes widened in thought and he removed his phone from near his face. He could do it at the same time.

Quickly, Stiles dialed Scott’s number.

“Stiles? Did something happen?”

“Hey, Scott. Yes and No. Do you do anything specific for packnight?”

“Uhh…” There was some hesitation on Scott’s part. “No, not really. Why?”

“Remember the thing I promised Danny when he loaned me the emulator I needed to enact your crazy plan?”

“My crazy plan worked.”

“Yeah, because I was there. Well, he called in the favor tonight and I don’t want to cancel on either of you. I was thinking, since you don’t have anything specific planned for pack night, what if we all went out to the dance club Sinema? I know werewolves can’t get drunk but I can, and we can dance, talk, and you know- fun stuff.” Stiles rambled quickly. Maybe he could confuse Scott enough that his automatic response was a yes.

There was a small moment of silence and Stiles bit at his lip. If Scott didn’t agree to this he would have to call Danny back to reschedule. The thought gave him a bit of anxiety.

“Okay. Let’s do it. I think that’s a good idea.”

Stiles was rushed with the warm feeling of relief at Scott’s words.

“Awesome. And if there is something you usually do for your packnights we can do it after the club or something.”

“No worries, Stiles. We don’t do anything really. Like, at all.”

“Okay. So, I’ll see you guys tonight.”

They ended the call and Stiles felt a little bit better. He really did need a night to just let loose and have fun.

Stiles’ thoughts wandered to the pack. More specifically to the Alpha and Peter. Would they be joining them? A packnight would usually involve the whole pack, right? Stiles wouldn’t mind if Derek tagged along; that could be fun. He just hoped Peter didn’t feel compelled to join them.  

Stiles spend twenty minutes trying on different shirt and pant combinations. He hadn’t gone out in a while. Hadn’t gone out on any dates, or out with friends. He hadn’t remembered it being such a hassle. He imagined Scott telling him to just be casual and he eventually settled on a white t-shirt and his best pair of jeans.

Stiles made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. His father wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be for another half hour or so. He crouched in front on the refrigerator and popped the kickplate out of place. He reached down to retrieve the small baggie tucked safely away there. Stiles scanned through the number of cards in the bag before pulling out the one with the most recent picture. He zipped the bag up before tucking it back in its hiding place and securing the kickplate back in place.

A few years back, Stiles had mastered the art of hiding things from his father. He tried his best to avoid keeping things hidden in his room, not that he thought his dad searched his room or anything, but because his father was an experienced officer, one with a good reputation, and Stiles didn’t want to ruin that reputation. The bedroom was always one of the first places checked when searching a suspect's possessions. No one would check the part of the fridge no one even knew the name of.

With the fake ID secured in his wallet, Stiles left the house. He locked the front door behind him and jogged toward the jeep. Stiles subconsciously and repeatedly checked himself in the mirror as he drove toward the club. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at his white shirt for any stains. Eventually he realized what he was doing and made a conscious effort to concentrate on the road and the rhythm of his fingers against the steering wheel.

Danny was waiting outside for Stiles.

“So I invited some people. Don’t worry! I will not get distracted from the mission.” Stiles said as he approached.

“Don’t call it a mission.”

“Why? Missions are fun.”

“Just. No.”

“Alright. You good with more people though?”

“Yeah. Anyone I know?”

“Yeah. Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Isaac, and a couple others.”

Danny nodded along as Stiles listed the names.

“Cool. Do you want to head inside or should we wait for them?”

“We can head in.”

Stiles followed Danny to the door and inside. Stiles shot Scott a quick text letting him know that Danny and him were already in the club before tucking his phone back into his pockets and directing his attention to Danny.

The building had grown over the years since Stiles had last been to Sinema. The music was loud and drowning, and the energy of the place was already pretty high. Just walking in made Stiles want to start dancing and having fun. Danny seemed to feel the same way; Stiles noticed how Danny tapped his feet with the rhythm and occasionally swayed.

“Let’s get a drink.” Stiles followed behind Danny as they made their way to the bar. As expected, the ID came in handy. Danny whipped out his own and Stiles followed suit. The bartender glanced at the ID and their faces before giving his nod of approval and making the requested drinks.

Stiles had finished his first drink by the time Scott and the rest of the pack arrived. He and Danny were dancing when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned and was greeted by Scott’s dorky smile. Stiles gave him a small hug before greeting the rest of the group. Jackson, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Malia, Scott, and Derek. They were all there and they all looked hot. Stiles felt very plain in his white shirt and jeans, but was comforted by the fact that he knew these jeans made his butt look good. He also decided that werewolves had an unfair advantage of being creatures of the supernatural.

“Hey! Let’s grab a table by the back.” Stiles suggested when he struggled to understand the words coming out of their mouths.

Stiles tapped Danny’s shoulder and pointed toward on of the back tables. Danny nodded and gave Stiles a thumbs up before signalling him to lean in. He leaned toward Stiles and Stiles mimicked the movements, turning his ear so he could hear what Danny was saying.

“You go ahead. I’ll be right over.”

Stiles nodded and turned to herd the rest of the group toward the back table.

Away from the music, Stiles could hear much better.

“I’m already a drink ahead of you guys. Please tell me you are going to get drunk so I’m not the only one making a fool of myself.”

Scott chuckled.

“We brought a special strain of wolfsbane just for the occasion.”

“Good. Then hurry up and get drunk. We need to go dance and then I have to do some scoping for Danny.”

“I’ll go get the drinks.” Jackson volunteered.

“I’ll help.” Isaac followed Jackson to the bar.

“Sorry to change your plans on you and all-”

“Plans?” Derek’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

Before Stiles could say anything about packnight, Danny came up behind him.

“Stiles!”

Stiles smiled at Danny’s entrance.

“Danny, this is the group. Jackson and Isaac are at the bar. You know Scott and Lydia. There we have Malia, that’s Erica, next to her is Boyd, and finally that is Derek.”

“Nice to meet you guys.”

Stiles watched Danny’s eyes linger on Derek. He could understand why, Derek was built to perfection. Danny’s eyes lingering on Derek made Stiles’ stomach twist. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He needed another drink. Where were Jackson and Isaac with the drinks?

As if summoned, Jackson and Isaac appeared. They passed around the shots and other drinks. Stiles downed his shot, the burn traveling down his throat and warming his chest. He made a small noise as the liquid went down but other than that he thought he handled the poison liquid very well. When no one reached for their drinks other than Lydia, the only other human besides Danny and Stiles, it clicked.

“Hey, Danny. Do you want another drink? Jackson’s an asshole who didn’t think of buying you one. This one's on me.” Stiles took pleasure in the anger that flashed across Jackson’s face. Danny looked almost startled at the realization that he didn’t have a drink in his hand.

“Yeah, sure.”

Stiles led Danny away from the table and toward the bar. The werewolves probably needed to add the wolfsbane to their drinks and weren’t willing to do it in front of Danny. Stiles felt proud of the fact that he, a human, knew what they were doing.

At the bar, after ordering and receiving his drink, Danny nudged Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles glanced in his direction and raised his eyebrows.

“See the guys over there?”

Stiles glanced over to where Danny was looking.

“The two kinda dancing- that is considered dancing right?- over there?”

“Yeah. Wanna go dance?”

Stiles looked from the pack to the dance floor and back. Lydia looked like she was about to drag Jackson away from the table and toward the crowd of people to dance. Erica and Boyd had already made their way over the the dance floor. Scott was chatting with Malia, and Isaac, and Derek was glancing in their direction. He was sipping at his drink, having opted for something other than a shot. Stiles forced himself not to focus too much on Derek. Seeing Derek in a public space made him appear less intimidating and more approachable and Stiles was on a mission he refused to be distracted from.

Stiles looked back at the guys Danny pointed out.

“Which one did you want?”

“The taller brunette. You can have the blondey.”

“Great. Okay, let’s go dance.”

They were both attractive men, Stiles couldn’t deny that. Although he had been hoping he would at least be able to socialize and flirt with someone who was relatively his type. He had nothing against blondes, and he was sure the guy was nice, but he had a feeling there wouldn’t be any sort of connection for him. However, if he was going to do this, he was going to make sure they both had a good time. He was going to be a good wingman.

Stiles and Danny made their way through the crowd of dancers, heat radiating off of everyone they passed. He had forgotten how crowded and sweaty these places could get.

Stiles spotted Erica and Boyd dancing a few feet away. Malia had joined them and it looked as if Erica was teaching her how to dance. They were all smiling and enjoying themselves, even when another girl danced her way into their space to join them.

Stiles turned his focus back to Danny and the two guys. Danny led the way in, and Stiles followed, a smile plastered on his face as he joined in. The two other guys were very accepting of Danny and Stiles’ intrusion. Stiles figured they were just two friends hanging out together.

Stiles did enjoy himself with the blonde. He was fun, energetic, and really sweet. Stiles, however, had to constantly stop himself from giving snarky one liners and had to remember not to roll his eyes because a lot of people didn’t like it. Even when it was meant in a playful manner.

When Scott found him, ten or so songs later, Stiles took it as a blessing. Scott came up behind him, a giant smile on his face. Stiles figured Scott was trying to pull him away for a moment but Stiles couldn’t in good conscience leave Eric, the guy he had been dancing with, alone while Danny danced with the other guy whose name was unknown to him.

“Eric, this is Scott. Scott, this is Eric. I have to use the little boys room so why don’t you take my place?” Stiles gave Scott a small pat on the shoulder before walking away. He had enjoyed the way Scott’s eyes had flashed with panic, it had been adorable. He did feel kind of bad. He was pretty sure Scott was completely straight, but also knew that the guy was too nice to say no. A few moment later, when Stiles looked back at the two, Eric was getting Scott to loosen up. It was nice to see.

Away from the dancing, Stiles could feel the effects of the alcohol he had consumed. He was probably a little bit drunk. Stiles didn’t really have to relieve himself, he just needed a break. Keeping up the facade was exhausting. Stiles wandered toward the bar. A bottle of water was probably a good idea.

“Hey. A water please. Thanks.”

Stiles couldn’t resist a quick up and down look at the bartender. He was an attractive-looking guy, kind of built like Derek. Stiles rubbed his eyes. There went his mind again. Back to Derek. Water was definitely a good idea. He imagined with a third drink he would walk up to Derek and ask him to dance. That would have just embarrassed him. Stiles wouldn’t be able to look anyone from the pack in the eye after that.

Stiles waited patiently for his water to arrive. He hardly registered the guy who had entered his personal space. When their shoulders bumped, Stiles broke from his zone-out moment. He pulled away and turned to apologize to the guy.

“Sorry-”

“Hey, can-”

They spoke at the same time and Stiles smiled smally and shook his head.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

The guy smiled back and Stiles felt oddly weird about the interaction.

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m good. Only water for me right now.”

“Are you sure? You’re turning down a free drink.”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone.” Stiles blurted out. It was one of those moments where his mouth decided filtering his speech was a bad idea. Stiles and the guy seemed to be processing what Stiles said at the same time. Stiles wasn’t about to correct himself though. He did come here with someone. A whole bunch of someones. Human and werewolf someones.

The guy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Stiles wondered how much the guy had seen of Stiles. Had he seen him dancing with Eric or talking to Danny?

Stiles directed a quick glance over his shoulder to the pack. Derek, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson had gathered themselves together within the last few seconds and were enjoying a joke or something. Erica was in tears from laughing. Stiles kind of wanted to be in on the joke, laughing with them.

Stiles turned his attention back to the guy in front of him. Stiles watched the guy follow his line of sight toward the group. As they guy scanned the group he straightened his posture. Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. The guy was obviously trying to figure out which one Stiles was there with. Isaac was probably going to be the guy’s guess and-

“The dark haired bodybuilder?”

What?

Stiles glanced back over his shoulder. The guy was talking about Derek and Derek was looking at them. Derek was probably listening in with his werewolf hearing powers in that exact moment.

Stiles didn’t know what to tell the guy. He either agreed, said Derek was the “someone” he was with, or disagreed and continued to find ways to turn down this guy’s advances. He could just outright tell him it was Isaac, but he had a feeling that if he attempted anything with Isaac to make it seem real, Isaac would freeze up and panic. He didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable just because he didn’t want to deal with this guy’s advances. Maybe he could just claim he was with Eric or Scott. That seemed a bit more believable, especially since they had been dancing together earlier.  

Before Stiles could answer, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Stiles inwardly froze in response to the random arm.

“Something wrong, Stiles?”

Nope.

Stiles glanced sideways up at his knight-in-shining-armor.

“Not anymore, Der.” Stiles had given himself exactly two seconds to think about the use of the nickname. He had done it to sell it. That was it. Derek’s lips twitched in response to Stiles’ sudden use of a nickname.

“Derek, this is- Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

The guy gave Stiles a curt smile.

“Ryan. Well. It was nice speaking to you Stiles. I hope you two have a fun night.”

Stiles and Derek stayed exactly where they were until Ryan was out of sight. Stiles let out a sigh of relief. That had ended much faster and much better than he thought it would. He had prepared himself with a list of pet names to call Derek incase he needed to sell it.

He was almost sad when Derek removed his arm from his shoulder and moved to stand in front of him. Derek grabbed the bartender’s attention and ordered another drink. Stiles, who had completely forgotten about his water, leaned against the counter of the bar and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of a small smile playing on Derek’s lips. He was going to make Stiles say it outloud.

“For helping me handle that guy.”

“No problem. He didn’t really seem like your type anyway.”

Oh this was going to be interesting.

“And what do you think my type is?”

Derek gave Stiles a quick look up and down before making eye contact. Stiles watched Derek pause before he said anything.

“Well?”

“Probably someone close to your height or taller. Sarcastic. Good dancer.-”

“You think being a good dancer is a requirement for being my type?”

“Come on, they have to be able to keep up with you. They need to be smart, on your level and able to keep up. Obviously they can’t talk more than you do.”

Stiles let out a chuckle.

“Obviously.” Stiles responded. Stiles hoped the music was too loud for Derek to hear his heartbeat. If he could, Stiles would just blame his irregular heartbeat on the alcohol he had consumed.

“You looked a little uncomfortable dancing with the blonde guy you dumped on Scott.”

“Ah. Yeah. I wasn’t too obvious was I?”

Derek shook his head and took a swig from his drink.

“Speaking of Scott, I should probably go save him from an awkward conversation.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

“Thank you again.” Stiles added before heading off toward the dancing bodies.

“Thank you, Scotty. If Eric doesn’t mind though, I think I’d like to butt back in.”

“I don’t mind.”

Scott gave Stiles a thankful look before wandering toward the table the pack had claimed. Stiles and Eric danced close to each other and Stiles put Derek and the earlier incident out of mind. He didn’t want Eric to have a bad time. He was supposed to be a good wingman.

Stiles and Eric danced until Eric wanted to get a drink. Stiles, Danny, Eric, and Simon ordered another drink each at the bar. Danny introduced Stiles and Simon on their way over to the bar. Stiles was sure to check if Danny was having fun and enjoying Simon’s company.

“Simon and I were about to head out.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows at the announcement.

“You two gonna be alright?”

“Yeah. I called a cab.”

“Alright. You two be safe.”

“Will do, Stiles. You are starting to sound a lot like your dad.”

Stiles gasped in fake hurt.

“Take it back, Danny.”

“See you later, Stilinski.”

Stiles watched Danny wrap his arm around Simon’s shoulder and lead him toward the exit. Stiles took another sip of his drink before turning to Eric. Eric was looking at him expectantly. He was probably hoping Stiles would ask him if he wanted to get out of here. The problem was that Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to. Eric was a nice enough guy, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about someone else now that they weren’t dancing or pressing their bodies together in the heat of the moment.

Stiles couldn’t help but think of Derek and the conversation they had earlier. Stiles did have a type. Eric wasn’t it, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t want to give him a chance. Stiles just couldn’t stop thinking about Derek and their conversation.

Stiles took a quick glance over his shoulder toward the pack. Derek was smiling at something Lydia had said and Stiles found himself wanting to hang out with the pack for the rest of the night.

Eric spoke before Stiles could.

“So do you want to get out of here too?”

Stiles’ lips twitched upward. If he said yes, it wouldn’t be fair to Eric since his mind would be somewhere else.

“Sorry, Eric. I made some plans with some friends and I don’t want to break any promises tonight.”

“That’s cool. I understand. I like that about you, Stiles. Do you want to exchange numbers? You can call me if you change your mind.”

Stiles smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. Here, trade phones.”

Stiles and Eric swapped phones and Stiles put his information in Eric’s contacts. When he was done, he traded the phone back for his own.

“Thank you for tonight. I hope to see you again.”

“You too.”

Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket before turning toward the pack. His eyes glanced across the back of their heads as they were chatting before they locked with Derek’s. Derek raised his glass toward Stiles before taking a sip and Stiles nodded his head in response. Stiles joined the pack’s table. As he slid into the space between Scott and Lydia, Lydia gave him a small side hug that Stiles reciprocated easily.

“How are we all doing tonight?” Stiles asked cheerfully.

“How’d it go with Eric?” Scott asked curiously as he swirled the liquid in his glass around.

“Oh come on. You guys are werewolves. You honestly expect me not to think you were listening?”

Lydia’s lips twitched upward in a small smile.

“Okay. Maybe some of us were listening, but-” Scott began but was interrupted by Malia.

“Why didn’t you go home with him. You two were gonna bang right?”

Stiles nearly choked on his own saliva as Malia’s words registered. Stiles was quick to compose himself. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“He was a nice guy, but not really my type.”

“What is your type? That comment you made the night we found the bomb on the bus-”

“Scotty?”

“Yeah?”

“Shutup.”

“What comment? Come on, spill. You can’t bring something up and then not elaborate.” Erica whined, her lips pulled into a pout.

“Stiles said-”

“Alright, I’m leaving.” Stiles made the move to turn on his heel and head back to the crowd of people dancing. He could probably get lost in the swarm of bodies. An arm linked in his and the next thing he knew the entire group was heading toward the crowd. Erica even had her arm wrapped around Derek’s, dragging him with them. Stiles didn’t think Derek actually minded despite the frown he was sporting. The pack eased their way into the crowd of bodies and formed a small, closed circle of sorts where they danced together. Stiles couldn’t help that his eyes scanned the way Derek moved in his black tee and jeans. The way he seemed to just belong.

At some point Stiles found himself and Malia dancing semi-separately from the group. Of course it didn’t mean anything other than being friends to Stiles, and he had fun with it. He liked being able to dance with someone knowing it didn't mean anything sexual or intimate was occurring or had to occur.

Stiles danced among the pack of werewolves like he belonged. The feeling of friends and family seemed to overwhelm him. He had only known them for a couple months, but time was a subjective concept created for the benefit of creature-comforts.

For the first time in a while, Stiles’ mind wasn’t traveling in twenty directions at once. He was perfectly content living in the moment.

A small part of him was afraid that any progress he made tonight with the pack will be forgotten by the time they woke up tomorrow morning, and that he would be fighting for their trust and cooperation all over again. A small part.

Three songs later Stiles was ready to call it. He was too tired to continue dancing around the club. He could go for some greasy food right about now though.

“Hey, Scott!”

“Yeah?!”

“Let’s get out of here! I’m getting hungry.” It took Stiles a moment to remember that Scott had werewolf hearing abilities.

“Okay!”

Stiles wrapped his hand around the nearest pack member’s wrist and he made his way out of the crowd. Away from the crowd of dancers he turned to face the group. Stiles released the wrist of his captive at the realization of who it was. Derek was watching Stiles, and eyebrow raised.

“Food.” Stiles said sheepishly.

Derek’s lips twitched upward momentarily before they were joined by the rest of the pack.

“Alright. Which werewolf is sober enough to drive?”

“Keys.” Derek demanded.

Stiles provided his keys without any hesitation. He was only slightly upset when Derek handed his keys to Isaac. The prospect of food silenced any forms of drunken complaints.

The group left the building together and Stiles led Isaac to where he parked the jeep. Scott walked beside Stiles, his arm wrapped around Stiles’ shoulder in a friendly manner and the two climbed into the jeep, Stiles in the passenger seat and Scott in the back. Stiles felt odd with someone he barely knew driving his jeep, but Stiles didn’t say anything about it.

They went on a hunt throughout Beacon hills for a place open late on a Friday night that had greasy food. They eventually found a small local business open next to a bar. Stiles applauded their business sense.

Stiles ordered a large double cheese burger with fries and a water. He didn’t pay much attention to what the group around him ordered, although he was sure it was pretty much the same as what he ordered.

Stiles was going down from the boost alcohol gave him, and he began to shift restlessly in his seat. He tapped his fingers against his thigh as he tried to listen to Jackson try and explain something car related to Scott. His might continued to shift to the thought of food and how thirty minutes felt like forever.

“You okay?” Derek asked, surprising Stiles.

“Yeah. Sorry. Alcohol isn’t good for my ADHD.”

Derek nodded his head slowly but didn’t say anything more.

When the food finally arrived, Stiles stuffed his face. He moaned after his first bite and sagged lower in his chair. A chuckled somewhere to his left went ignored as he sank his teeth into the burger for a second bite.

After the meal, Stiles felt a hundred percent better. While the exhaustion was also beginning to kick in, Stiles felt good.

“I think we should call it a night.” The voice of reason, Scott McCall said.

“Mmm. I second that.” Lydia piped in from where she had her head leaning against Jackson’s shoulder.

“Agreed.” Stiles voiced. He was thankful he hadn’t been the one to call the night. Stiles felt exhausted, and he had the urge to check the time but forced himself not to. He didn’t wasn’t to be rude to them by checking his phone.

“Scotty.”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I crash at your place?” Stiles didn’t want to accidentally run into his father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, tonight. He was sure his father knew that even Stiles pushed the limits of the law a bit, but he still didn’t want to see the look on his father’s face when he stumbled home or woke up in the morning with a hangover. He had already warned his father that he would probably just be staying at Scott’s for the night.

Scott hesitated and anxiety spiked in the pit of his chest.

“I was gonna crash at the loft. If you don’t mind spending the night there-”

“We don’t bite.” Eric piped in rather enthusiastically.

“Uhh.” Stiles glanced at the faces around the table.

“You don’t have to, we can give you a ride home.” Scott added quickly.

“No, that’s fine. If it’s not inconvenient to any of you-”

“It’s not.” Scott added quickly.

“Alright then.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile. This felt good. A little awkward, but good. It felt like progress.

While Stiles was feeling much more sober, he didn’t feel the need stop Isaac from getting in the driver’s seat of the jeep. Stiles was almost asleep in the passenger seat by the time they pulled up to the loft. Stiles groggily removed himself from his seat, nearly tripping his way out of the vehicle.

“You good, Stiles?”

“Mmm. Just tired.” Stiles said as he stretched his arms above his head.

“Okay. So, I was thinking. This could be a thing. Once a month, maybe twice, we do a packnight.”

“You make it sound like packnight isn’t an actual thing-” Stiles stopped in his tracks to turn to Scott. The pack moved around him and toward to the building.

“Did you make packnight up just to get me to trust you guys?” Stiles asked, eyes pinched as he scrutinized Scott.

“Uhh.” Scott stood still, his mouth slightly agape.

“You know what? I don’t care. I had fun tonight. It was good.”

A grin broke across Scott’s face and he wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder. They walked into the building together.

“So I usually crash in Isaac’s apartment on his couch. You can take that if it’s more comfortable for you.”

“I don’t want to mess up your usual routine. Just put me anywhere.”

Stiles knew that if he was in Scott’s position, while he may offer up his normal couch space, he wouldn’t actually want the person to accept. Wherever the pack decided to put him, he would be grateful.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Scott. Where am I sleeping? I’m tired and can feel a headache coming on.”

“Oh. Okay. Well I think the only decent place left to crash is on the couch in the loft. That’s Derek’s apartment but I’m sure he won’t mind. Do you, Derek?”

“Don’t care.” Came Derek’s response from a few yards ahead of them.

Stiles felt his heart stutter in his chest. As least, that’s how his brain interpreted it. He hoped none of the werewolves picked up on it. Stiles hated this. The constant worrying that a werewolf was listening to his heart beat. He had to remind himself to ask Scott if they just randomly listened to heart beats. He would have to write it down or make a note in his phone because drunk Stiles wouldn’t remember this.

The pack slowly split off, the couples going to their respective apartments while Stiles, Scott, Derek, and Isaac made their way toward the loft.

Inside the loft, Derek disappeared up the spiral staircase.

“Tonight was good. I think we all needed it.” Scott filled the silence.

“Back to work tomorrow.” Stiles muttered.

They made small talk until Derek reemerged. His arms were full with a pillow and blanket. The sight of the pillow made Stiles think of his pillow at home. It was his favorite pillow; always helped him sleep. Derek plopped the blanket and pillow down on the couch before wandering off toward his bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded in response as Scott and Isaac excused themselves with goodnights in Derek’s and Stiles’ directions.

When they were gone, Stiles moved the pillow to one of the arms of the couch and flapped out the blanket. He felt hot and disgusting in his shirt but felt too weird in an unfamiliar environment to take it off. Instead, Stiles tucked his uncomfortable self under the blanket.

After a moment without saying anything, and without any noise coming from the general direction that was Derek, Stiles sighed.

“Thank you for your help tonight. Goodnight.”

Stiles didn’t expect a response, so when one came Stiles couldn’t help but let a small smile form.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Chapter Text

The morning wasn’t as awkward as he thought it would be. The noise of movement in the kitchen woke him up. Stiles shifted on the couch and opened his eyes, catching his bearings and attempting to recall the previous night.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stiles was suddenly very awake. Derek was moving around the kitchen making coffee and what looked like pancakes.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Stiles had fallen asleep relatively quickly and had probably slept more than he would have at home. Stiles excused himself to the bathroom before joining Derek in the kitchen. Stiles gratefully accepted a cup of coffee and sat at the island sipping it. He watched Derek stack pancakes high onto a plate.

“You feeding the entire pack?”

“Isaac and Scott are on their way.”

Not even a minute later, Scott and Isaac had joined them. Isaac was quiet and seemed to be trapped in thought while Scott was as boisterous as ever. Not too far behind them were Erica and Boyd. Malia stumbled in right before Jackson and Lydia did.

This was the pack; excluding Peter of course. Stiles was hesitant at first, but with Scott’s guidance into their morning routine, Stiles began to loosen up.

When breakfast was eaten, Stiles folded the blanket he used the night before and sat it nicely on one of the cushions with the used pillow on top.

“So, I have to say something.” Isaac was pacing the living room.

The pack was scattered around the room, suddenly very interested in what Isaac had to say. It was probably because of the tone of his voice. Stiles raised an eyebrow and waited for Isaac to continue.

“It’s about Matt.”

Stiles watched Derek cross his arms and turn into the stern, brooding werewolf Stiles had first met.

“Years ago, when we were in high school, something happened at my house.”

“Can you be anymore cryptic?” Jackson asked as he rolled his eyes.

“The swim team was celebrating, you know- drinking. Things got out of hand and Matt ended up in the pool. No one knew he couldn’t swim.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles couldn’t help the little outburst. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew Matt was more of the type to keep to himself, but he hadn’t expected nearly drowning because of some drunk high school students to be the reason for it.

“My dad basically threatened him- told him not to say anything to the police. I don’t know if any of this even matters. I just didn’t not want to say anything in case it did.”

“I don’t understand why it would matter. If Matt was looking to use Barrow for revenge, why go after Kira and werewolves? Why not go after the swim team?” Stiles reasoned.

“What if he was building up to something bigger? What if he wanted to learn from Barrow?” Jackson argued. “I’m telling you, this guy is shady.”

“Just because you don’t like him, Jackson, doesn’t mean he is shady.”

“Of course you would say that, Stilinski. You’re all buddy-buddy with him.”

“Knock it off, the both of you.”

Stiles shut his mouth, killing any sort of response. He did it because he wanted to, not because Derek said to.

“So what do we do?” Isaac asked. To Stiles, Isaac looked like a skittish bunny rabbit ready to bolt from the room the minute things went south. How was this kid even a werewolf?

“You need proof.” Stiles nudged his way back into the conversation. “You can’t just go around wolfing out on people or accusing them of helping a serial bomber. You need proof.”

“Then we find the proof. We stick to the plan. Survey him, check the history with Isaac’s story about the swim team, and look for connections to Barrow. Keep an open mind about the whole thing.”

“Peter would suggest we just kill him.” Jackson mumbled mostly to himself.

Stiles wanted to punch the asshole right in the nose. Jackson would heal and get over it. Perhaps Scott could feel the tension growing between himself and Jackson because the next thing he knew, Scott was in front of him, his hand holding onto Stiles’ shoulder keeping him in place.

“Well, Peter isn’t here and he doesn’t make the decisions. This is the plan. Understood?”

A round of yes’ occurred almost simultaneously.

Stiles excused himself shortly after and Scott walked him down to his jeep.

“Thank you for last night, Stiles.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I lost the bet.”

“The bet may have gotten the ball rolling, but you have to admit you forgot about it and just had fun. So, thank you.”

Scott wandered back inside before Stiles could say anything, but he was right. It had started off as a bet and turned into just a fun night with friends.

When Stiles arrived home he made his way upstairs to his room where he face-planted into his bed. He didn’t do it out of exhaustion. It was more of a natural movement than anything else.

A knock on the door pulled Stiles from his empty thoughts.

“Yeah?” Stiles sat up on the edge on his bed just as the door opened.

“Hey, kid. You have a good night?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“Good. Good, I’m glad. I want you to have fun-”

Stiles couldn’t help but interrupt with a groan. He didn’t need a lecture on drinking and staying out late, especially since his father was the Sheriff. He could feel his father’s need to say something about it.

“What? I just wanted you-”

“Dad.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s fine. I was gonna head to the store, we are out of coffee. Do you need or want anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you though.”

His dad made a move to leave and head downstairs. A sudden thought overcame Stiles and he called out to his father.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Wanna grab something to eat tonight? Maybe just chill and watch a movie?”

Stiles watched his father’s lips twitched upward in a small smile.

“Yeah. That would be good. Pick a place.”

“Will do, Sheriff.”

“I’m off duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stiles.”

“Noah.”

“I’m leaving.”

Stiles watched his father leave. Both of them were left with a smile pulling at their lips.

Stiles took an hour long nap and awoke to the sound of his phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

It was Scott.

“What’s up?”

“Kira called me. She said she can meet up tomorrow and talk about that night.”

Stiles nodded before realizing he should probably answer verbally.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Stiles popped the word before hanging up and burying his head back into his pillow. There was no way he was going back to sleep. That wasn’t going to happen. However, he could lay in his bed and just exist for a while.

The front door opening lured Stiles from his bed and his room. His father was carrying bags of groceries in.

“Wanna give me a hand?”

“I refuse. I only have two and I love them both equally.”

“Stiles.” His father let out a tired breath.

“I’ll help you with the groceries though.”

“My son, such a help around the house.”

“I did dishes.”

“When?”

“Two days ago?”

“You can do them tonight.”

“Sure, since we are eating out and all, I’ll join the kitchen staff and pay them for my services.”

“Smart ass. Tomorrow then.”

Stiles went to the car and helped his father bring the bags in. Once everything was sorted and put away, Stiles and his father sat down on the couch to watch some television. Stiles nibbled on a snack, occasionally throwing pieces his father’s way.

“You should stop eating, you’ll get full before we even go eat.”

Stiles brought his snack to the kitchen and put it away. When he went back into the living room his father was on the phone. Stiles sat himself on the couch and waited patiently as he dad spoke. Stiles knew it was the station based on the tone of his father’s voice. He was in Sheriff mode. His father sighed and rubbed his eyes when he hung up.

“I have to go in for a bit. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Alright. Handle whatever it is.” Stiles replied with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Okay.”

The older Stilinski got up from the couch and headed toward the front door. He gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder as he passed his son.

Stiles left the tv on downstairs for some background noise as he went upstairs to his room. Stiles placed his pillows in the corner of his bed and leaned up against them, his bestiary in his lap and a pencil and notebook resting on one of his knees. He had spent an hour searching the bestiary for the word Kitsune earlier this week. He was changing tactics now and looking for fox, or the latin word, vulpes. Ten minutes later and halfway through the book, he found the words “ spiritus vulpes,” fox spirit, scrolled across the top of a page. The image drawn on the following page was an image of a savage beast, highlighted in such a way that Stiles could imagine the beast glowing.

His father was gone for two and half hours but Stiles barely noticed. He was caught up in the bestiary. It was a puzzle for him to solve and it gave him something to do.

When his father did finally get home Stiles ushered him out of the door and toward the jeep. He tossed his father the jeep keys and got into the passenger seat. From inside the vehicle he watched his father run his fingers along the form of the key as he made his way toward the driver’s side.

The ride over to the restaurant was quiet. Stiles couldn’t speak for his father, but he was thinking about his mother. Stiles did his best to try and recall what she looked like in as much detail as he could. He remembered her eyes so vividly; the way she looked at him and accused him of trying to kill her. He didn’t hold it against her. It certainly wasn’t his favorite memory of her, but it was one of the strongest.

They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and exited the vehicle. The whole aura and feeling of the night changed as they exited the jeep and walked into the family owned building. Stiles put everything supernatural related out of his mind. Tonight wasn’t about the pack or Kitsunes, it was about spending time with his dad.

Stiles woke up Sunday morning to Scott body slamming him. Stiles flailed awake, his limbs connecting with the body of his attacker. He heard a yelp other than his own and halted in his frantic movements.

“Scott? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Scott was sitting on the floor rubbing his side.

Rather than say anything else, Stiles flopped back down on his bed, faced away from Scott, and closed his eyes.

“Stiles, come on. You have to get up.”

“No. How did you even get in here?” Stiles mumbled into his pillow.

“Your dad let me in. Kira wanted to meet up today, remember?” Scott kneed the side of Stiles’ bed making it shift slightly.

Stiles groaned, maybe a little more exaggerated than necessary but he wanted Scott to understand his distaste for being woken. He pushed himself onto his forearms and sighed in defeat.

“He just let you in and let you abuse his son? What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty. He had an errand to run.”

“Who does errands on a Sunday?” Stiles mumbled to himself more out of tired irritation than anything. Stiles rolled himself over, kicking Scott in the shins as he did so, and lifted himself off the bed.

“Give me like ten minutes.”

“You have five.”

“Alright.”

Stiles took his time. He ignored Scott’s anxious behavior and his attempts to get Stiles to go faster.

“Come on, Stiles.”

“You woke me up.”

“We have things to do!”

Stiles popped an Adderall before grabbing his keys and wallet. Sometimes having an extreme extrovert as a friend was a struggle.

Scott clapped Stiles on the shoulder before leading the way out the front door. Scott’s bike was parked on the curb. Stiles figured it was safe to assume they were driving separately when Scott walked over to his bike and pulled on his helmet. Stiles positioned himself behind Roscoe’s wheel and followed a safe distance behind Scott.

They arrived at Kira’s a little while later. She was sitting outside her front door playing with her hands. She looked up from where she sat when she noticed their presence pulling up to the front of her house. A small smile grew on her face and she made her way over the Scott. Scott was still sitting on his bike, but his helmet was removed and his feet were on the ground keeping the balance in place. Stiles remained sitting in his jeep, the engine running. He didn’t know what Scott and Kira’s plan was but he didn’t want to walk up and interrupt anything.

Scott and Kira seemed to agree on something; Stiles could tell the way Kira smiled and nodded her head. Stiles watched Kira step away from Scott and move toward the jeep. She tapped on the window of the passenger side and Stiles leaned across the vehicle to open the passenger door.

“Need a ride?” He asked casually.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Kira tucked a couple strands of hair behind her ear before getting into the jeep.

“Are we following Scott?”

“Yeah. He said he knew a good spot.”

“Sounds good.”

The beginning of the ride was silent but Stiles could tell Kira wanted to say something by the way she was fidgeting in her seat. Stiles contemplated breaking the silence but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable if she wasn’t ready to talk. She spoke up a couple minutes later.

“So, you’re human?”

What kind of question was that? Stiles corrected himself. It would be an odd question if he didn’t know about the supernatural world.

“Yep.” Stiles popped the word slowly. He wasn’t exactly sure where this was going.

“How did you get dragged into this?”

“I was literally dragged into this. I made some friends who happened to be werewolves and I’ve been involved since.”

“How long has it been?”

“A couple months.”

Kira nodded slowly before responding.

“My mother told me about it a year ago. She’s been teaching me to control it.”

Stiles didn’t know why Kira decided to share, but Stiles let her continue talking anyway.

“I know you guys saving me was totally coincidental but thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t come to me having to do what I would have done if someone hadn’t come to help. Anyway, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So, are you part of the pack or something?”

“Or something.” Stiles replied. He didn’t actually know what he was. He was officially invited to packnights and he had already spent a night at the loft and Derek-

Scott turned right onto a dirt road leading toward the cliff that overlooked Beacon Hills and Stiles directed his mind to keeping the jeep from jostling back and forth excessively.

“Did Scott say anything about me?”

The question came out of nowhere and Stiles was unsure as what to say. He knew Scott was interested, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to tell Kira that. He took a quick glance in her direction. She was playing with her hands again, her head facing Scott’s back as he moved carefully along the road.

“It’s totally fine if he didn’t say anything, I was just- I don’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, he was talked about you. He couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Had he said too much? Stiles didn’t care as much after seeing the small smile that lit her face and the confidence that seemed to spark in her eyes.

“Cool.”

Stiles suppressed his own smile.

The pulled up to the clearing, Scott was already off his bike and removing his helmet. Stiles parked the jeep and Kira and himself stepped out of the vehicle.

“Noone comes up here. It’s just us so we can talk.” Scott swept his arms in front of his body, presenting the clearing.

Stiles watched Kira scan the area before she nodded her approval. Her right hand was grasping the nook of her left arm in a half-nervous, half-defensive posture.

“I don’t know how to start.” Kira glanced between Scott and Stiles.

Scott looked over at Stiles and raised an eyebrow. Stiles sighed and pulled himself up onto the hood of his jeep.

“How about with your mother, she is a Kitsune as well, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she can do the thing with electricity that you do?”

“No, she is a Celestial Kitsune. I am a Thunder Kitsune.”

“What did you do that night?” Scott piped in. He had only seen a moment of it and only knew what Stiles had told him.

“I can channel electricity. It’s sort of my thing.”

“That is a very cool thing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Had you met or seen Barrow before that night?” Stiles asked.

“No. I went outside for a moment and there was a sharp pain on my head and then I blacked out. I woke up and that man was standing above me. I could feel the electricity. I passed out again at some point and then when I woke up again you guys were there.”

“Did he say anything to you?”
“He-he wanted proof.”

“For who?”

“He said it was for the people who never believed him.”

“Did he say who they were exactly?”

“No.”

“Okay. Did he say anything else? Anything about-” Scott cut himself off and looked up at Stiles.

Scott was going to mention him. He was going to ask if Barrow had spoken about Stiles. Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Kira looked utterly confused, both arms now crossed over her chest.

“Did he say anything about me?” Stiles asked reluctantly.

“No. Why would he? You said-”

“A banshee had a dream about me. They predict death.” Stiles interrupted.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’m not dead yet so it’s a good sign. She may have been wrong or misinterpreted the whole thing. So, did he say anything else?”

“He talked about a movie. Village of the Damned or something like that.”

“The remake of the black and white classic?” Stiles asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Does that even matter?” Scott asked

“It mattered to Barrow.” Kira piped in. “He liked the classic one. He mentioned how their eyes glow and they do terrible things. He said something about a slogan.”

“Beware the stare that will paralyze the will of the world.” Stiles muttered as he recalled it.

“Yeah. He was obsessed with freeing the world from being paralyzed.”

“Well, this does nothing to help us now that Barrow is dead.” Stiles hopped off the hood of his jeep and walked over to the cliff’s edge. He remained a safe distance away from the actual edge but gave Scott and Kira some space to talk amongst themselves. He could hear Scott thanking her for telling them what she knew. They moved away from the topic of Barrow and onto more personal subjects and Stiles lost interest. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze brush against his face. Even with the wind drowning out most of the noise, a voice could still reach his ears. It was a man’s, so he assumed Scott was just talking in his loud, usual way.

Eventually Stiles opened his eyes again and turned back toward Scott and Kira. Scott was proudly showing her his bike. It was his second bike, an upgraded version of the one he had apparently bought and fixed while he was in highschool.

“Do you know a kid named Matt Daehler?” Stiles asked.

Kira looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. I don’t think so. I’m bad with names though.”

“If I showed you a picture-”

“Yeah- yeah, sure.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and did a quick search through his photos. He was pretty sure he had a photo of them when they were in high school or something. He found the photograph of them on their high school lacrosse team. Matt had quit at the end of the season. Stiles now knew why, and he felt guilty for pushing Matt so hard to rejoin the team that year. Stiles turned his phone toward Kira, both of them stepping closer to the other. Kira took the phone from Stiles and seemed to study the photograph. She handed it back a few moments later, shaking her head.

“No- I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Sorry.” Kira handed Stiles back his phone.

“It’s fine. It might be a good thing.” Stiles slid his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his hands together. “Should we get going?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something?” Scott asked casually.

Stiles knew what Scott was doing. Scott wanted to spend more time with Kira. Stiles, however, just wanted to go home and figure things out. He had to talk to Matt. He didn’t want to take Scott’s opportunity to spend time with Kira away but he didn’t want to third wheel anything either.

“I actually can’t. My mother and I have…  plans. Raincheck? I want to go out to eat with you- I mean, I really do have something I need to do.”

“Okay. Sounds good. Let’s get going.”

Kira and Stiles got into the jeep and Scott got onto his bike. Scott followed behind Stiles’ jeep on the way back to Kira’s. They pulled up for Kira’s house fifteen minutes later and Stiles parked the jeep. Kira thanked him and got out of the vehicle. Scott was off his bike and waiting for Kira on the curb. Stiles watched Scott and Kira walk toward her front door. Scott said something that made Kira smile. She gave him a small wave before going into her house. Scott had a ridiculous smile on his face as he walked back toward the jeep.

“Got any plans for the day, Scottyboy?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing fun.”

“Great. Sign me up. I’ll follow you.”

Scott followed on his bike all the way to Stiles’ house.

They walked to the front door together and into the living room. The older Stilinski was sitting on the couch, papers spread across the couch and coffee table.

“So, I hear you two officially met this morning, daddio.” Stiles glanced between Scott and his father.

The older Stilinski placed what he was working on down on the coffee table and stood.

“We did.”

“Thank you for letting me in this morning, sir. I know it was early.”

“If it get’s Stiles out of the house from time to time, I’m open to whatever.”

“Hey! I am standing right here.”

“We know.” Scott said.

“Well, I won’t keep you kids. You look like you have something on your mind, Stiles.”

“It’s nothing important, but I was going to show Scotty a cheat for Harris’ class.”

“I don’t want to know.” The Sheriff threw his hands up and made his way toward the kitchen.

Stiles nodded his head toward the stairs before making his way in that direction, Scott following a few feet behind him.  

Stiles pulled his bestiary out from underneath his pillow and flipped it open to the page he had last translated.

“Spiritus vulpes.” Stiles said as he handed the open book to Scott.

“What?” Scott took the book and scanned the pages with curious eyes.

Stiles waited a few moments before answering.

“Fox spirit. Sycophantam.”

“What?” Scott asked a little more flabbergasted.

“Trickster.”

Chapter Text

Pulling into the student parking lot of the community college campus, Stiles wanted to be anywhere but here. He was supposed to try and talk to Matt today. Despite the fact that it was his idea, Stiles was nervous about the whole thing. What if he said something that set Matt off? Not that he thought Matt was responsible, but even Stiles had his doubts.

Scott met him in the courtyard and together they walked in the general direction of Stiles’ class. Stiles didn’t understand why Scott even showed up this early when his first class wasn’t until noon. His nerves, however, were too racked to even think about asking about it. He went through his day like this. He didn’t ask questions in class, he didn’t make faces every time someone asked a ridiculous question.

Stiles was playing different scenarios in his head. He didn’t know how Matt would react. He imagined phrasing what he wanted to say in different ways, words in different orders, using different languages. Eventually Stiles gave up. Even if he planned it to the word, he didn’t know what Matt would say or do. Stiles couldn’t rely on the hope that Matt would be at practice, but he knew where he could find him after practice.

As Stiles thought, Matt wasn’t taking pictures of the lacrosse team today. Stiles did his best to focus on the team exercises and Coach Finstock’s instructions, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Stilinski! Get your ass off the field and go run some laps! Even I know you can’t screw that up.”

Stiles sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. His mind was going a million different directions at the same time. He had to speak to Matt.

“Hey, Scotty. C’mere.”

Scott was only a few feet away when Stiles called out to him.

“What’s up?” Scott asked, concern laced in his tone.

“This is going to drive me crazy, I need to go speak to Matt.”

“We’ll speak to him after practice.”

“I can’t wait, Scott. I’m gonna go see him now.”

“You’re gonna just leave practice?”

“Yeah. Coach wants me to run laps. I’m better off spending my time trying to figure other things out.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. It’s fine. The goal isn’t to piss Coach off any more.”

“You need backup.”

“I’m just gonna talk to him. I’m not gonna accuse him of anything. I’ll meet you guys at Derek’s loft afterward. I’ll tell you everything that happens.”

Scott looked hesitant. Stiles bit his bottom lip and tapped his fingers against his leg.

“Let me do this, Scott.”

“Fine. Be careful.”

“Will do. I’ll text you if there is an emergency.”

“Okay. We should have a safe word in case. You know, so I know it’s you.”

Why Scott wanted a safe word was beyond Stiles. Why wouldn’t it be him texting Scott? Then Stiles remembered the night the pack had texted his father. Maybe a safe word wasn’t so bad.

“Umm, how about Roscoe.”

“Roscoe? Your car?” Scott looked displeased with the choice but nodded anyway.

“Okay. Great. I’ll see you later.”

Stiles ran off the field with his bag and equipment. It only took a moment for Finstock to realize Stiles wasn’t about to go run laps. Coach began shouting obscenities at Stiles’ back. It lasted for a few seconds before he eventually gave up.

“Sorry, Coach!” Stiles shouted as he jogged toward his jeep. He dropped his equipment into the back of the jeep before getting into the driver’s seat. He drove his way over to the parking lot closest to the photography classroom. Stiles knew they had a darkroom and a million other amazing photography tools and equipment. If he was lucky, Stiles would find Matt there.

Stiles nearly slammed the jeep into park when he pulled up to the right building. He exited the jeep and began heading toward the building. Stiles rubbed the palm of his left hand with his right thumb in an attempt to calm his nerves. He may have sped toward the door, but as he neared it Stiles slowed his pace. What was he even going to say?

Stiles took hold of the door and gave it a test pull. The old college door creaked and Stiles heaved the door open even further. The room was partially lit, a few people randomly scattered around the room. They looked up in his direction when he walked in, their eyes following him made him feel self conscious, but they didn’t say anything to him. It wasn’t a class; maybe a club or after-club type thing. Stiles didn’t really care for the people here, he wanted to find Matt and just talk.

“Darkroom?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

A kid nodded toward the the right side of the room and Stiles followed his line of sight to the door between a counter and cabinet.

“Thanks.” Stiles muttered.

Stiles approached the door and rapped his fingers against the door. There was no response.

“No one is in there.” Someone said as if it were a fact Stiles should know.

“Very helpful.” Stiles muttered.

Stiles pulled the door open and walked in. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the lighting. It looked like someone had just completed a series of photos. A backpack sat in the corner and a folder sat open on a nearby table. Photographs hung on a string, completely formed and dry. Stiles wandered the room toward the folder. He was snooping. He probably shouldn't have, but his instincts took over. Stiles tentatively picked up a photograph from the stack on top of the folder.

It was of a face he didn’t recognize, a girl. Probably another student at the college. Stiles moved on from that photo and picked up another. And another. He moved from one photo to the next, sometimes admiring the cinematic value and other times not bothering to look too much into it. They were definitely Matt’s style.

Stiles eventually stopped on a photo. He was in it and so was Scott. It was a photograph of them at the game. The night Scott and Stiles had found the bomb on the bus. It was of Stiles and Scott talking outside the bus, probably just after Stiles had called his father.

Stiles continued to shuffle through the photographs at a faster pace. He stopped when he found another one. This time, it was of Kira. She was at the lacrosse game, standing off to the side.

Kira had been at the lacrosse game.

Why the hell was she there?

Stiles finished off the stack of photos and tried to put them back the way he found them.

Stiles moved from the folder on the main table to wander the room in search of something else. He didn’t know what, but he was looking for it.

“What are you doing in here?”

Stiles looked up from where he was squinting at a photo to see Matt in the doorway.

“Looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” Stiles asked with a shrug.

“Stiles, what do you want?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Why?” Matt stepped into the room, closing the door behind them.

Stiles’ eyes had to readjust once again to the light change.

“Haven’t seen you around as much.”

“Haven’t been around.”

Stiles felt a weird tension in the air. Matt seemed overly cautious around him. Stiles caught Matt’s side glances at the folder of photographs on the table.

“You have some really interesting photographs.” Stiles nodded toward the stack and the room in general. “You always seem to know when to take the right photo.”

Stiles was antagonizing Matt. He knew that. Stiles was referring to the photos taken at the game the night they found the bomb. If Matt was involved, which Stiles was starting to believe, then Matt would immediately think of those photos. Stiles wanted to see how far they would take it before someone actually admitted something.

“It’s part of being a good photographer.”

“What’s going on with you, Matt? Is something going on? I’m your friend, you know. You can talk to me.”

“What do you want, Stiles?”

“Why do you think I want something?”

“You’re stalking me, looking at my photos, saying things that don’t make sense. What do you want?”

“I want to make sure you are okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t let Matt know he knew about the night involving the pool. Matt didn’t tell him directly so he had no business bringing it up. He also didn’t want to be the first one to bring up Barrow or anything related.

“Thanks for stopping by but I think you should go. Don’t you have lacrosse practice or something?”

Stiles tapped his fingers against a nearby counter before he nodded and slip his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll see you around, Matt.”

“You will.”

With one last look back over his shoulder at Matt, Stiles left the room. He exited the building, ignoring the watchful eyes of other students, and headed toward his jeep.

Stiles’ thoughts were so jumbled. He had to get this out. He needed to see it in front of him.

Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his father.

“Hey, dad?”

“What’s up, kid? Why are you calling me at work?”

“Does your station have an extra evidence board?

“I’m sure I could find one in the back. Why?”

“I’m working on a project.”

“Do I get to know the project?”

“Dad, it’s really not that interesting.”

“I do take an interest in your life, Stiles. I’m here for you kid.”

“I know, dad. It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright. Give me a moment and I’ll go check.”

“Okay.”

Stiles sat in the driver’s seat of his jeep as he waited for his father to get back to his phone. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and waited. While he sat, Stiles felt his eyes wander toward the door of the photography classroom. The door opened and Stiles sunk lower in his seat. He watched Matt exit the room, a camera bag hanging across his body. He didn’t look in Stiles’ direction, his eyes were trained on the ground. Stiles watched as Matt crossed the parking lot and got into his car. He began pulling out just as Stiles’ father got back to the phone.

“You still there, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“We have a spare one in the back. You want me to bring it home, tonight?”

“Is it okay if I just come over and pick it up?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon then. Pick up some food on your way.”

“I’m not gonna indulge in your junk food escapades.”

“Fine. I’ll get Parish to do it.”

“I’ll bring you food, don’t be so rash.”

“See you, Stiles.”

Stiles hung up and turned the key. The engine purred to life and Stiles shifted gears. He reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction of the Sheriff’s station. Stiles was beginning to piece things together in his brain. He needed a visual of all the information he was processing.

Stiles almost forgot to grab food on his way over to the Sheriff’s station. He ended up stopping in a drive-thru and ordering two salads and a burger.

He pulled up to the station and greeted the officers on his way in.

“Deputy Graeme!” Stiles said cheerfully.

“Stiles! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while. Doing good in school?”

“Yes, ma’am. Classes are going well. Keeping busy.”

“That’s good. Staying out of trouble I hope?”

“You know me.”

“I worry about you, Stiles. You have habits.”

“All my habits are good habits. Do you know where my dad is?”

“Yeah, his office. He has a couple boxes for you.”

“Thank you, Graeme.”

“Stay out of trouble!”

Stiles turned toward his father’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, kid. The main piece is in the back, these boxes are gonna need a bit of a set up. Are you gonna need some help?”

“Nah, I can get Scott to give me a hand.”

“Alright. I’ll help you get it into the jeep.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles placed the bag of food, the salad and burger for his father and the other chicken salad for Parish. The two of them had been working closely together on the Barrow case and Stiles had watched as his father took the young Deputy under his wing.

“I grabbed something for Parish while I was there. Hope he likes chicken salad.”

“I’m sure he will just be grateful you brought him anything.”

Stiles chuckled and followed his father out of the Sheriff office.

They secured the big piece on the roof and tucked the other boxes in the back. It took about twenty-five minutes. Stiles thanked his father and went on his way.

Stiles didn’t want to have to call someone to help him with the evidence board. He just needed to get it setup so he could get his thoughts out.

It took him an hour to set the thing up. Stiles carried it into his room, a feat that he only struggled with slightly. He got the entire thing set up and then sat on his bed staring through the board. Before setting it up, Stiles had all these thoughts he wanted to get out. Now, staring at it, he didn’t know what he wanted to put up. Maybe if he just printed a bunch of photos something would spark.

Stiles hooked up his printer and laptop on his desk and began printing. He printed the photo of Scott, Isaac, and Jackson at lacrosse with the glowing eyes, the photo of his high school lacrosse team with Matt circled with a red permanent marker, and a picture of Barrow. He taped the pictures to the board and began connecting things with a red or black washable marker. Red for unknown connection, black for things he knew for sure. The photo of Matt sat at the center and lines branched off like a web.

He put Kira’s name on the board, off to the side, and wrote “Kitsune or Nogitsune” underneath. After finding the dark fox spirit in his bestiary and considering Kira’s involvement, Stiles was no longer one-hundred-percent sure that Kira was a good guy. She was at the game the night Scott and Stiles found the bomb. Maybe Kira was involved.

Stiles moved on from thoughts of Kira being involved in the Barrow and Matt situation. He needed to focus on Matt. How was Matt involved? Stiles, in the beginning, wanted nothing more than for Matt to be innocent in it all. He wanted Matt to just be going through things of his own. Stiles was almost completely sure now that Matt was involved. It wasn’t coincidence, it couldn’t be. Matt was there. The pictures. Always being at the right place at the right time.

Stiles couldn’t help but think it was related to the night with the pool, when members of the swim team nearly drowned him. A thought struck Stiles and Stiles located his high school yearbook. His father had insisted he buy the yearbook for memories sake. Stiles had protested back in high school but now he was grateful for his father’s unintentional assistance.

The swim team had an entire two pages dedicated to them. He looked at the familiar faces and names of some of the team members. They were on the lacrosse team. Stiles’ lacrosse team. Stiles tore out the image of the swim team from his yearbook and put it up on the board. That would explain the bomb on the lacrosse bus. He wasn’t targeting the werewolves; well, Barrow may have thought that was the target but Matt was after the high school swim team members. He wanted revenge.

None of this explained how Matt met Barrow though. It was one of the mysteries he hadn’t figured out yet. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and tapped his fingers against his leg in agitation. His mind was spinning in so many directions. Stiles popped an adderall and drank some water to help it go down.

Matt had taken the photo of Kira at the game, Stiles didn’t know why she was even there but that didn’t matter right now, and Barrow had kidnapped her. Stiles knew it had something to do with what she was. Was she a Kitsune like she said, or was she lying and really a Nogitsune? What would Matt want with either of those things?

According to his bestiary, the Sycophantam (trickster) was the equivalent of the Japanese Kitsune. The fox spirit with no moral code of right and wrong. Stiles thought it may be the perfect tool for exacting one’s revenge. Stiles wondered if becoming a Kitsune could be like becoming a werewolf. Did Matt want to become the Kitsune? Stiles drew a red line from Matt to the word “Kitsune” and drew a question mark above the line. It was one of his possible theories.

Stiles wrote the words “the pack” and circled it a few times before writing his own name and connecting the two with a red line. What did he have to do with this? Did he actually have anything to do with this? Did it matter anymore? He was kind of in this thing whether he wanted to be or not.

The only real connection he could draw between the pack and Matt was Isaac. Maybe Isaac was one of Matt’s main targets. But Stiles now knew and Matt knew that Stiles knew. So was Stiles now a target? Maybe this is where he fit in. Maybe he was supposed to confront Matt again and have a panic attack and die.

Stiles shook his head. These thoughts were just coming from exhaustion. He was freaking himself out. Stiles rubbed his face and dropped onto his bed. He stared at the evidence board across from him. There was so much information there. Stiles felt like he should know what was going on just based on the information there. He had everything he needed but he couldn’t figure it out. It was as if there were a part of his brain keeping him from seeing it.

He should call Scott. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the full story figured out. He had something. Maybe if he talked someone through it he would be able to figure it out.

Stiles dialed Scott’s number and waiting for the phone to ring. It rang, and rang, and rang. Stiles was tapping his foot, moving his leg up and down, as he waited for Scott to answer.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Scott. Pick up the phone.”

“Hello?”

“You aren’t Scotty.” It was Derek. Why was Derek answering Scott’s phone?

“He left his phone here.”

“He never leaves his phone anywhere.”

Silence answered Stiles.

Stiles waited a few seconds for a response and when he didn’t get one he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Alright. That’s fine. I need someone to just listen. Can you listen?”

“Sure.” The response was hesitant, but it was a response nonetheless.

“Okay, good. I spoke to Matt today.”

“You did what?” Derek’s voice rose. Stiles could tell he wasn’t happy with Stiles’ admission.

“I spoke to Matt. You are supposed to be listening.”

“I am listening. I just can’t believe you would do something so stupid.”

“It got my mind working. It wasn’t stupid. Will you just listen? If you can’t shut up for a few moments and left me talk I am hanging up and calling Lydia.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll listen?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. So Matt. I saw some of his photos today. He had a picture of Kira at the game the night Scott and I found the bomb. He also has a picture of Scott and I outside the bus right after we called the police. He is everywhere, always taking photos. I think he might actually be involved. Look-” Stiles launched into an explanation of the connections he made. He got off his bed and stood in front of his evidence board.

At moments he would forget Derek wasn’t there in person and Derek would have to stop him and ask him to explain it again without saying “look here” or something along those lines. Other than that, Derek kept up with Stiles and his process relatively well.

Stiles loved having someone to bounce ideas off of and explain things to. Not only did it help him think, it made him feel useful.

“You think Matt is going after Isaac?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Isaac knows about the night at the pool. If he is really going after those involved Matt may see Isaac as guilty by association. Everyone involved that night is in danger. I think he needs to be very careful. We don’t know what Matt is doing. We need to speak to Kira again.”

“Didn’t you and Scott already clear her?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if she told us everything we needed to know. Like, she didn’t tell us she was there at the game that night.”

“I’ll let Scott know he needs to talk to her again.”

“Someone needs to go with him. The boy is smitten.”

Derek groaned and Stiles couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“This isn’t funny, Stiles. This is-”

“Completely normal for a guy Scott’s age. Who knows, I could be completely wrong about everything.”

“You could be.”

“If you feel that way why did you just let me talk your ear off with all this stuff for an hour?” Stiles couldn’t imagine Derek just liked to listen to Stiles talk. No one did. He was told he talked too much, much too quickly. Besides, he hardly knew Derek. Sure they flirted a bit the night at the club, but they hadn’t spoken since the morning after.

“You did good.”

“You- I- what?”

“We’ll confront him tonight. Scott will be back in an hour. You can get down here and help figure out a plan.”

“Are you going to kill him, Derek? He’s human.”

“Humans kill humans everyday.”

“What if I’m wrong? I might just be reading too far into things.” Derek didn’t actually say he was going to kill Matt. He didn’t think that was the kind of Alpha Derek was. He could see Peter killing a human for no reason, although Stiles was pretty sure he only thought that way because Peter kind of scared him.

“You have instincts, Stiles. I’m starting to think you would make a better werewolf than Scott. We aren’t going to kill him. We are just going for a talk. Do you know where he lives?”

“Yeah. I have an address. It’s old though. He may not even live there anymore.”

“Come to the loft. Send me the address. We will think of something.”

“Okay.”

Derek hung up and Stiles sat himself on his bed. Derek had sat and listened to him talk for a little over an hour. He then went on to say that Stiles would make a good werewolf. Maybe he would, but Stiles didn’t think he even wanted the opportunity to become one. He hadn’t even thought about it. He was good at being human. He liked being human. Stiles knew Derek wasn’t offering to bite him and turn him, but it was definitely a thought that had manifested itself visually in his mind.

Stiles texted the address to Scott’s phone. There was no response; Stiles wasn’t expecting one. Stiles stood and stretched. He was still in his clothes from practice. It would probably be a good idea to change before he went anywhere. Stiles slipped out of his clothes and into a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red and black flannel. He would take a shower when he got home. He was too anxious to waste anymore time. He grabbed his wallet and keys and jogged down stairs. He locked the front door behind him and got into his jeep.

Chapter Text

Stiles couldn’t sit still and driving seemed to be one of the hardest things to do in that moment. He tapped his fingers restlessly, alternating between tapping the steering wheel and his leg. Stiles was heading to the loft to figure out the game plan with the pack. If Matt was targeting Isaac, there was a good chance that he would eventually target the rest of the pack. That’s how bad guys worked, right? They went after the good guy’s loved ones.

It was darker than he had expected it to be for six in the afternoon. He was pretty sure the sun wasn’t supposed to set for another two hours. Stiles glanced up at the trees alongside the road he passed. They moved slowly to the will of the wind, casting moving shadows on the road with the aid of the moonlight.

Stiles pulled his focus back to the road. It was dark and quiet, almost something from a horror film. Something felt odd. A feeling bubbled in his gut and made its way to his chest. He felt his heart quicken and his chest constrict. Something wasn’t right.  

The car came out of nowhere. He had been alone on the road one moment and in the next he was jerking the wheel away from an incoming car. Stiles had caught sight of the car around the turn, but rather than turn around the corner like they should have, they drove straight for Stiles and his jeep. The other car slammed into the left side of the jeep’s front bumper, sending the jeep spiralling off road. Stiles was jolted toward the steering wheel; his head slammed against it and he blacked out.

When he woke his entire body ached. It felt like it was being weighed down by an anchor. Stiles groaned but made no attempt to move. He could feel how unready he was for that. Sitting in his own jeep, his surroundings felt foreign and unwelcoming. Nothing felt right. There were unfamiliar noises, smells, and visual stressors. It took him a moment to realize he was hearing something other than the noise his jeep was making. Someone was saying something to him but he couldn’t understand the words. They sounded so far away.

His eyes shut involuntarily and he fought to open them again. His vision was blurry and his chest heavy. He struggled to breathe, his body falling further into shock. Stiles gathered what strength he could, took a deep breath and pushed himself off the steering wheel. Stiles let out a pathetic roar of pain as he shifted his body. The pressure on his chest was slightly relieved, however, the immense pain that followed the removal of the pressure made Stiles regret moving. He didn’t have much of a choice though.

There was broken glass scattered across the dashboard and coating his clothes in a dull shine. Tree branches protruded through where the windshield used to be. One of the tree branches, a rather large one, had Stiles’ leg pinned against the seat.

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, although it came out more like a moan.

The jeep was smoking, he could smell the fumes and feel it burning the inside of his nostrils. He needed to get out of here.

Stiles tried to open the door but it refused to budge. He had to jimmy the door, but eventually it opened with a pop. Stiles pushed the door away from him with the weight of his own body and flopped onto the ground painfully.

Stiles laid on the hard, leaf covered ground, resting for a moment before he dragged his body away from the wreckage. Stiles was pretty sure something somewhere on him was broken. He pulled himself a few yards away before turning to face his jeep.

The sight of his jeep brought tears to his eyes. If he had the strength to be angry, he would be yelling and spewing curse words at the trees. Stiles thought of his mother. Her jeep was now totalled. He was supposed to take care of it. How had this happened?

Things began to click into place. Someone had hit his car. Stiles’ eyes flickered across the dark expanse of the night. He was a few yards down hill from the road. The lack of headlights on the road was a frightening thing.

If someone had hit him, wouldn’t they try to find and help him? Why wouldn’t they-

Stiles’ thoughts were cut off by the sound of a car door slamming closed. A figure approached the side of the road looking down at Stiles’ jeep. A small fire had started up and Stiles dragged himself farther away from the vehicle.

“Stiles? You alive down there?”

Stiles froze. Matt? That had definitely been Matt’s voice.

“Stiles? Buddy? I want it back.”

What? Want what back?

Stiles didn’t say anything. He began to slowly, and as quietly as he could, back farther into the woods.

“Stiles? Let’s just talk.”

Stiles was pretty sure Matt didn’t just want to talk. What Matt wanted exactly, Stiles didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

Stiles found his back to a tree. He was far enough from the flaming vehicle that his figure wouldn’t cast a shadow if he stood up.

“Stiles! I’m coming down there. Hopefully to find you alive.”

Stiles’ heart was racing. He began pushing himself up off the ground, using the tree as support. He made a lot of noise, crunching the leaves of the ground and groaning as he straightened.

“Stiles?”

Stiles took off.

Stiles found himself running. He ran through the woods, slowly and painfully, away from where he had crashed. The presence that haunted him followed. Stiles used the trees he passed by to carry him farther into the woods. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He just ran.

Stiles hadn’t been expecting anything from Matt so quickly. He didn’t actually know if anything was going to happen. He had hoped he was wrong. Why couldn’t he just have been wrong?

Stiles ran until he stumbled to the ground unable to breathe. He pressed himself against the nearby stump. It was rather large to be a normal stump but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had a feeling he was somewhere very familiar, he just couldn’t get his mind to wrap around the memory.

He tried to calm his breath.

“Stiles.” His name was drawn out in a sing-song manner.

Stiles clutched at his shirt right above his heart as he struggled to breathe. The pounding against his knuckles was a welcomed feeling. His heart was beating. That was good. He was still alive. However, it was beating much too quickly to be healthy. He could feel the panic attack building in his chest. This was it. This was Lydia’s dream. Stiles was going to die in the forest.

Despite the impossibility of it, Stiles wished he had grabbed his bat from the jeep. He needed something to protect himself with.

“Stiles. Whoa there, having trouble breathing?”

Stiles watched Matt emerge from almost exactly where he himself had stumbled through.

“Does it feel like you’re drowning? I get night terrors like that. Did Isaac tell you? About that night.”

Stiles grasped at the ground for stability, all he got was a handful of dirt.

“Did he tell you how his brother and his friends threw me into the water and let me drown? Did he tell you about how his father pulled me out and blamed me for the incident? Because everyone should know how to swim, stupid boy.”

“Matt…” Stiles’ voice came out weaker than he had wanted.

“Give it back, Stiles.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles tried to push himself off the ground but failed. He gave up trying to move and instead attempted to gain control over his breathing.

“I deserve it. Give back the Nogitsune.”

“Kira?” Stiles asked in confusion.

“No- do you really not know anything? I thought you were the great Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff’s son and natural investigator.”