Part 2 – Knowing Where You're Going
Series: With a Fearful Hope
Sequel to: Lingering at the Start (strongly suggest you read that first)
Pairings: Allison/Scott (past relationship), Allison/Isaac, Scott/Kira, Stiles/Derek (preslash and building), Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall
Warnings: Canon typical violence for both Teen Wolf and The Walking Dead. Blood and Gore. Not everyone is going to survive.
Rating: M for Language and Violence, Minor Zombie related gore
Summary: 6 weeks have passed since The Pack left Beacon Hills during the outbreak and they have settled into a routine of sorts in their remote lakeside cabin. But the minor peace and sometimes tranquil life they have started to build there cannot last forever. Especially not when everything in Lydia is pushing her and them Eastward. *Minor Character Death*
1.
Stiles stares at the ceiling, listening to his father snore softly on the other side of the room. It's still dark out, and Stiles hasn't slept well. He hasn't slept well in weeks. Not since their whole world had gone to complete and total shit.
The cabin was larger than Stiles had originally imagined it would be. Two floors high, with a slightly larger lower level. There were two bedrooms upstairs, but most of the pack choose to sleep downstairs scattered here and there across the living room floor. Stiles stretches on his pallet near the empty fireplace. The front door eases quietly open, and Stiles' eyes fly to the face of the man entering. Scott is wet, drenched actually, rain water dripping out of the too long hair hanging in his eyes. Stiles relaxes again, and watches his best friend shake off excess water before wiping his feet and stepping inside. He nods to Isaac who is sitting at the dining room table crunching on a bowl of cereal.
"Anything?" Isaac asks. Scott frowns and nods.
"Four. East side of the lake," Scott says reaching for a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter. They were getting low again. Stiles mentally adds it to the shopping list. He takes a deep breath and pulls himself up out of his nest. He tugs up his sweat pants and heads for the kitchen, stepping over Derek's sprawled out feet, and around the throw pillow that Prada, Lydia's small black and white Papillion, had claimed as her own personal doggy bed. Prada picks her head up as he passes and blinks at him once before sighing and flopping her little head back down. Lydia is nowhere to be seen. Probably upstairs in bed with Allison or Kira. Melissa is curled up on the nearest couch, her back to the rest of the room. Stiles scratches at his lower back as he steps up to the dining table. He snatches a towel off a nearby pile and tosses it to Scott. Scott catches it out of the air, scrubbing it across his wet hair, and then wiping across his chest. He bites into the apple, crunching quietly on the sweet fruit. Stiles rubs at his face and sits on the stool next to Isaac's. He reaches into Isaac's bowl for a handful of stale cheerios. A spoon stabs at his fingers, and Stiles yanks his hand back with a wounded sound, cheerios scattering across the table. He glares.
"Asshole," he hisses. Isaac sneers at him, face going just at touch wolfy. Scott shakes his head, and heads for the bathroom, reaching up to smack them both in the back of their heads on his way past.
"No fighting. The sun isn't even up yet," he warns, voice bored. "Isaac, finish your food. Your patrol starts in five minutes." Isaac nods, scooping faster. 'What kind of idiot eats dry cereal out of a bowl with a spoon anyway?' Stiles thinks, irritated. The door closes behind Scott and Stiles slumps to rest his head on the table. He lets out a groan. A minute later he hears Derek let out a little grunt as he climbs to his feet. Stiles turns to look, and watches Derek stretch his arms up and back over his head, t-shirt riding up his tummy as he moves. Stiles looks quickly away, ignoring Isaac's little snort of derision. Derek approaches them at the table, scratching at his stubbled chin. Isaac stands from his seat and moves around the table, nudging the mostly empty bowl in Stiles direction without a word. He tugs his shirt off as he goes. Leaving the red cotton hanging on a hook by the door, he disappears outside barefoot and half naked. Derek sits down beside Stiles, fingers snaking into the bowl Isaac had just abandoned. He fishes out a single cheerio, popping it into his mouth, and crunching down. His face of pure disgust is adorably predictable.
"They're stale. They're always stale. I don't know why you always act so surprised," Stiles says, tugging the bowl away and starting to munch. He ignores Derek's grumpy face, and instead nudges the bowl of apples toward him.
"Are we still going out on our run today?" Derek asks. Stiles shrugs.
"Ask our fearless leader," Stiles says, cracking open a bottle of water and taking a sip. Derek pauses like he's listening and after a few seconds starts to smirk.
"Scott says fuck you, and to remember to bring back juice. Melissa's afraid we are all going to come down with scurvy." Derek hops off his stool and walks away; heading upstairs to get dressed. Stiles purposefully does not watch him go.
Kira appears just then on the upstairs landing, she smiles at Derek as they pass on the stairwell, entering the kitchen area, braiding her hair as she goes.
"Scott's back?" she asks. Stiles motions to the bathroom door, and she bounces in place, reaching over to give him half a hug before heading in that direction. The door is easing open before she can raise a hand to knock.
Stiles' father lets out a particularly loud snort in his sleep and rolls over, nearly falling off the couch. It's just another morning post-apocalypse.
Town, as they affectionately (and somewhat sarcastically) call it, is a twenty minute drive away from the lake where their cabin sits. Far enough away for them to feel marginally safe, and close enough to take trips once, maybe twice a week. Stiles and Derek are slowly making their way through the place, building by building, gathering food, water, and any other supplies that can't be made on the fly. Lydia's a genius, and Derek's pretty good with a wrench and duct tape, but some stuff just can't be jerry rigged. They've been staying in the cabin for about two months now, hoping to last through the heat of the summer before starting East. They "have to go East," Lydia says often and a touch desperately. They'd all agreed last pack meeting that they would stay a few more weeks and head out in Mid-September. John and Melissa had sat down and come up with an emergency evac plan in case things ever happen to go south. Each car had at least two weeks supply of food for the whole group stashed in the back. Stiles and Derek make a good team, sweeping through buildings and always seeming to make it out of bad situations just by the skin of their teeth. For now the pack is biding their time and trying to gather their strength and resolve to leave California.
Stiles watches out the window as Derek pulls to a stop behind the Mom & Pop diner at the far end of Town. They'd cleaned it out a week ago, but it is shady there, surrounded by trees like it is. He pulls around the far end of the lot, parking behind the dumpster, a large tree hiding the car from sight. The last thing they want is to have someone spot their car. Stiles fingers the spare set of keys in his pocket, then checks his gun strapped to his thigh, and the knife hidden on the back of his belt.
"What's up for this run?" Derek asks. Stiles nods up the street.
"I want to hit that gift shop, and maybe that bar. Stop by the yard again on the way back."
"The bar?" Derek asks.
"Most bars sell more than just alcohol, Big Guy. You'd know that if you got out more."
Isaac returns from his run, mostly dry, and a little bit sweaty. The rain had dried up in the heat of midday, leaving it muggy and humid. He steps inside, nodding to Kira, as she heads out for her patrol. Kira is the only non-wolf Scott will let go out alone. Allison had objected to this arrangement, but Scott had been adamant. Kira could heal from a lot worse than the humans or a banshee could. And her ability to summon lightning had proved amazingly effective against the… things that kept attacking.
Isaac heads to the kitchen sink, filling a glass with well water and bending over to pour it all out onto his head. When he stands up Melissa is perched beside him on the counter, towel in hand.
"Good patrol?" she asks. He nods, taking the towel gratefully to wipe himself down.
"Yeah, it was okay. Scott was right, not much action. There are a few on the far side of the lake, but they seem to be pretty happy hunting the wildlife, instead of heading our way. We should keep an eye on them though. We don't want to be taken by surprise." Melissa nods, retrieving a granola bar for him and pressing it into his hand.
"Eat something and get a little rest. Scott and Lydia are working on inventory and," she looks quickly toward the living room, Isaac follows her gaze. Lydia and Scott are sitting close on the couch, bent over a spiral notebook and talking quietly. Scott looks exhausted, hollow eyed. Isaac frowns. He wants to do more, help in any way he can. Scott is taking on too much responsibility and he won't listen to reason. Melissa looks back to Isaac and leans closer, "and later… scheduling," she says almost inaudibly. Isaac feels his shoulders relax just a little. He tears a hole in the granola bar wrapper and takes a big bite. He winces at the taste of cranberries in his mouth. Melissa laughs, back at full volume. "Sorry kid, we are all out of the oatmeal raisin." She pats him on the shoulder, and hops down. "Later this afternoon I'm taking a few loads of laundry outside to wash. Keep me company?" she asks as she walks away. He nods when she glances over her shoulder.
"Just let me know when," Isaac says. She grins at him, before finally reaching the couch where she joins the Sheriff looking out the window. Isaac crams the rest of the granola bar into his mouth.
"Isaac," he hears called softly. He looks up to the landing, and sees Allison there. She smiles down at him, leaning on the railing. Her dimples are showing, her hair pulled up in a messy pony tail. And he feels his mouth stretch up in an answering smile.
"Hey," he replies, swallowing the dry granola in his mouth, and waving.
"Coming up?" she asks, biting her lip. He looks to Scott, torn, wanting to know if there's anything he needs done. But Scott is looking straight at him, amusement lighting up his face. He makes a shooing motion.
"We'll catch up after your nap," the way he pops the P, has Lydia giggling into Scott's shoulder, and Isaac fighting a smirk. He shakes his head, and starts up the stairs, using the towel to finish drying off as he reaches the landing. Allison grins at him, big and bright, and grabs his hand, tugging him into the far bedroom. It's the one with the extra big bed.