Howls
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a/n: This is a one shot, kinda dark character study of Stiles. Set in a nebulous, AU Season 3B where no one dies, and the Alpha Pack was taken down.
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"You would've made an excellent wolf," Peter smirked at his favorite packmate, over the body of the latest threat. Derek started to growl his beta into submission, except Stiles beat him to it.
The teen stared the undead Hale straight in the eye, expression more serious than any of the Pack has ever seen. "No, I wouldn't."
And they got it. Because they've seen him go off. He may not be a wolf physically, but mentally? He was already there. For Stiles, morals were second to pack, loyalty, protection, family. Erica had joked once, after a night in watching The Godfather movies, that Stiles would have made an excellent mafia hitman. It stopped being funny when they realized that her point was perfect. He would do the dirty work, the stuff no one had the stomach for, the shit that made them all uncomfortable.
He wasn't alone in that. Erica would do things simply because she could, but after, she always got a sick feeling in her gut. Allison would do things out of anger, and it left her empty once all that fire had died out and the ashes had blown away. Isaac would do things out of fear, until the fear turned into rage, and the rage ended, and he was back to being scared that he was like his father.
Stiles, on the other hand, did things out of practicality. Lydia could follow his train of thought on every terrible thing he'd ever done - the difference was that she had something holding her back, telling her here is the line, and no further. Stiles didn't really have that little voice in his head that kept him from acting. He'd told Scott one night, while he was drunk, that he was glad his friend had been bitten, that night when they went looking for a body, instead of Peter finding Stiles. Told him how different he thought things would be.
"Like what?" Scott had asked.
Stiles rolled from his side onto his back and laughed. "I woulda killed Peter, y'know?" He didn't see Scott's brows pull together in puzzlement, he just kept talking. "That first full moon, I would've gone right out after the alpha, with that old story 'bout how killin' the one who turns you, to be human again. I woulda acted like I was showin' my belly, and as soon as he got close enough, I woulda ripped out his throat. And then I'd've started biting people."
Appalled, Scott chokes out a hesitant, "What?"
Stiles shrugs, eyes now closed. "F'r protection, bro. You an' Dad an' Melissa. So you'd be strong. Safe. Prob'ly Lydia, too. Maybe Allison, 'cause you were so gone on her. Woulda made you all more… there's a word, thingy." He waves a hand at nothing, and the silence grows, while Scott just stares at his best friend, picturing it, knowing Stiles is telling the truth, and hating that different future. "Durable! Tha's it! Dur-urable," Stiles exclaims, proudly, immediately before passing out.
It scared all of them, a little. The only reason it wasn't worse was simply because they knew, down to their bones, that Stiles would sooner slit his own throat then hurt any of them. Anyone not them, though, anyone he saw as a threat had best beware the teenager they would see as weak and spastic and easily breakable.
Because Stiles is human. Except he has the soul of a wolf, and it howls.