A/N: I decided to rewatch VMars recently. This was a terrible idea when I'm in throes of a TW spiral. I definitely should have edited this like six more times but then I might never post it...So I present the pilot of Veronica Mars, starring Stiles Stilinski.
Hook: A long time ago we used to be friends…Stiles is Veronica Mars, everybody is pretty aware of the supernatural and tying people to flagpoles is mean.
Title: 90909
Chapter One: That Would Explain the Absence of Balloon Animals
There were a lot of reasons to not be in a rush to enter Beacon Hills High School. If Stiles lingered in his Jeep for an extra few minutes in the morning so he could perfectly time his entrance to homeroom without having to socialize with a single peer it was wholly justified.
Today though a crowd had gathered around the flagpole, blocking his path, and upturning this meticulously crafted routine. Torn between a want for apathy and a naturally insatiable streak of curiosity he shouldered his way through the mass to the center of the commotion. He groaned as he took in the sight. Strapped to the flagpole with a truly impressive amount of duct tape was a well-built, dark-haired teen with a wreath of wolfs bane around his neck and the word 'omega' painted across his chest. Fantastic.
"Who put him up there?" He heard someone ask
"The Hunters obviously." Another voice answered.
"Shouldn't someone cut him down?" A whisper cut through.
"Yeah right, unless you want an arrow through the neck," Someone replied.
Stiles skirted his eyes around the crowd searching for a sign of action. When he was met with none he frowned and reached into his pocket to pull out a large knife usually reserved for repairs to the Jeep. "Move." He ordered Greenburg who was blocking his path, flicking the blade open.
The elder teen turned with a scoff, "Who died and made you-" But he fell silent as his eyes landed on the open knife Stiles held in his hand. "Jesus man." He backed out of the way. "You really are crazy." Stiles rolled his eyes behind rectangular black frames. Good ol' Beacon Hills, you're institutionalized one time…
Stiles reached up and yanked the tape covering the kid's mouth. "Thanks man." He croaked. Stiles grabbed the ring of wolfs bane and tossed it off to the side before he began sawing through the rest of the tape.
"You're new right?" The guy nodded as he worked his jaw open and closed a few times. "Welcome to Beacon Hills." Stiles replied flippantly as the first bell rang and the crowd began to scatter. "See you've already made friends." He commented as the kid's arm broke free and he began to pull at the tape around his legs. Stiles eyed the dispersing crowd with a frown. "Go Cyclones!" He called at their retreating backs with mock enthusiasm.
It wasn't as if he didn't mean to pay attention, it was just that the night before he had been camped out across town waiting for a shifty hedge fund manager and her assistant to exit a seedy motel until three am. Luckily this was not a class that required his full consciousness. So he sat in the back and leaned his head onto the desk trying to catch every third word and hoping his medication would kick in before lunch.
"Mr. Stilinski!" He bit back a groan as Ms. Ng's voice broke through his sleep-addled brain. "Mr. Stilinski!" She repeated and Stiles lifted his head off of the desk to fix his gaze on her.
"Yes?" He wasn't going to pretend he was awake. There was no point and he didn't really care at the moment.
"Blake's A Poison Tree from last night's reading?"
Stiles adjusted his glasses so they sat properly on his face. "And it grew both day and night. Till it bore an apple bright." He yawned. "And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. A-"
"Okay," She held up her hand. "And what is Blake trying to tell us here?"
"Don't eat your feelings." He quipped.
"Thank you Mr. Stilinski." She turned her back to him and Stiles settled his head back on the desk, missing the acrimonious stares directed his way. "For that concise but not wholly inaccurate analysis, now Blake-"
"But if they fight so much why are they dating?" Malia asked. She had her back against the lockers next to him.
Stiles prevaricated. "I don't know sometimes couples fight." He looked down the hall to the group of teens in lacrosse outfits. "And Jackson's...trying." He looked over to her. "They haven't broken up in like three whole weeks."
Malia frowned, her forehead creasing, "I still don't understand."
Stiles sighed and ran a hand down his face. Malia had designated Stiles her personal exposition fairy ever since her transition back to full-time human two years prior. Having spent ages seven through thirteen as a coyote she still, at times, questioned social mores and conventions. Stiles turned to her with a shrug, "Yeah, you know what, neither do I honestly." He closed his locker.
"I bet you could play." She gestured down the hall, changing the subject.
Stiles laughed lightly and closed his locker. "I don't think anyone has ever looked at me and thought organized sports."
"Well how can you know unless you try?" She pressed.
"Lacrosse isn't like math, Malia, I can know I'd suck without embarrassing myself at tryouts." He said dryly. "I also don't need it to graduate, or function in my daily life."
Malia hugged her binder closer to her chest. "That's the same thing you say about asking out Lydia."
"Lydia has a boyfriend Malia." He said with a sigh. "A boyfriend that is also your cousin."
"Not a very good one." She mumbled. Malia's loyalty to Lydia was often (read always) stronger than hers to Jackson. In fact if Stiles had to guess he was pretty sure her list went him, Lydia, the Pack, and then Jackson.
"Not my call." He returned. She seemed to want to press it further but blessedly gave up. In her mind the only thing keeping Stiles and Lydia apart was his lack of action. Not the fact that she was dating Jackson Hale, Malia's adoptive cousin, and had been since the sixth grade. Not the fact that despite being Jackson being his closest friend other than Malia, Lydia barely knew he existed or that they'd likely exchanged thirty words with each other since they were eight.
"But you could try out for the lacrosse team." Malia returned. "And you could introduce me to your teammates." She continued absently, her gaze following the origination of their conversation. He followed her eye line and smirked.
"I am not helping you with," He gestured to her person, "Whatever that is…" He returned. She shoved him and he laughed earning him a smile from her in turn.
Stiles had a system that worked well for lunch. He kept himself to a table far off to the side of the room. He always had a book or homework to occupy him and he kept his ear buds in for the duration of the period. This peace was shattered though when a tray clattered into view above his frames as his head was bent over his math homework. He bit back a sigh of frustration and pulled an earphone from an ear to look over at the intruder.
It was the guy from the flagpole. Why?
"Hey man." The guy smiled to him as he sat down. Stiles didn't immediately answer but shifted his textbook back further into his lap and took in the other teen. "Thanks, by the way." The kid continued as he settled onto the bench.
Stile's frown deepened. He didn't do it for a wider social circle. He did it because…well… "Yeah you probably don't want to sit here man." He offered instead. Might as well save him the effort. He probably meant well, he seemed like a nice enough guy. But just because he had seemingly pissed off some the Hunters didn't mean he should completely tank his chances of social normalcy at Beacon Hills by sitting with a the pariah.
New Guy tilted his head. "Why not?"
"Because-" Stiles began but he was cut off by a lithe, tall, brunette dropping into to seat next to New Guy. Allison Argent, leader of the Hunters. She reached over and plucked a fry off of New Guy's tray. Great. This could only end well.
"I thought I left you at the flagpole wolf." Argent stole another fry. "In fact I thought I made it pretty clear you were supposed to stay there." She tapped New Guy in the head. "Or was that too complicated for someone like you."
The kid turned to her without any trace of fear and there was something about his gaze that seemed to put Allison on tilt. "You had your fun." He said evenly, with a surprising lack of ire. "I got your message." New Guy turned back to his lunch tray. "I'm not looking for trouble." There was a weariness when he said it that Stiles couldn't miss.
Allison seemed to need a beat, but she recovered. "You're a wolf." She bit back. "You are trouble." Her tone was low and acidic. "You're an omega, how long do you really think you'll last out here on your own?" Next to her New Guy's shoulder's tensed. "It's just a matter of time before you slip up." Allison slammed a hand on the table. "And when you do I'll be there-"
"Back off Argent." Stiles cut in when she seemed unwilling to stop. He closed his textbook accepting he would not be returning to it. Allison stood up and turned her head to Stiles, a menacing gleam in her eye.
"I'm sorry," She sounded incredulous. "Was I talking to you loony-bin?"
"Hard to be sure." Stiles met her stare and gestured to his head. "Could have been you, or the voices, never can tell."
Allison's grip on the table tightened and her eyes narrowed. "Looking for help narrowing it down?" Something caught a glint of light under the table, likely sharp and designed to flay Stiles Stilinski types everywhere.
"Argent!" A voice barked and she stiffened, whatever she had been holding was stowed in seconds. "What's going on?" Coach Finstock questioned as he arrived.
Allison smiled sweetly, all trace of murderous intent gone from her visage. "Nothing Coach." She walked past him and behind his back turned around and mimed shooting a bow at the New Guy.
"Do I even want to know Stilinski?" Coach paused at their table.
"Probably not."
Coach nodded and tapped the table. "Good." He walked away.
Stiles eyed the new student when their teacher was out of earshot. "So what did you do?" His curiosity always won out over apathy. Why was that? At the confused look he received Stiles elaborated. "The Hunters may be a little unhinged but they don't usually go full blood feud without a reason. Especially lately."
"Oh, well I work at the animal clinic in town." The kid started. "And last night a couple of them came in to see my boss." He went on to describe a scene where the Hunters had interrupted Deaton helping a new beta control the shift and when the girl went after the Hunters they reacted violently. After that New Guy had intervened and put himself between the baby beta and the hunting party but not before someone wound up with a decent gash in their leg and someone else had a dislocated shoulder.
"Deaton said he'd smooth it over but then when I left after my shift…" The uninjured hunters had lain in wait to exact some retribution and a patrol car had passed by as they attacked the kid. "That's when the police showed up."
"We don't have police here. We have a sheriff's department." Stiles absentmindedly corrected.
"Right well the… deputies?" At Stiles nod of approval he continued, "Pulled them off of me and I tried to tell them it was a misunderstanding but one of them mouthed off and-" And Hunters tended to carry a lot of things that weren't legal in the great state of California. Coupled with some priors they had spent the night in county. "Then the guy that arrested them said he should have just let them finish me off since a beta that didn't defend himself was useless anyway."
Stiles gave a scoffing laugh. Sheriff Hale had a bleak and self-serving philosophy that had not softened with his new post. "Well congratulations," Stiles returned wryly, "You've been here like two days and you've managed to not only piss of the werewolf hunters but the local werewolf sheriff too."
The new kid dropped his head to the table and groaned. That was a fairly appropriate response.
"You should ask her out man." Jackson insisted as he laced his cleats.
"You and your cousin need to work on boundaries." Stiles countered as he mirrored Jackson's actions on his own shoes.
Jackson rolled his eyes. "It's been long enough man, she's been human for two years. And she likes you." He frowned down at Stiles who was still seated on the bench. "It's obvious man.
Stiles's brow furrowed. "Is it?" He countered sarcastically.
Jackson gave him an exasperated look. "Yeah." His tone was impatient. He offered Stiles his hand and helped him stand. "And unless you want to finish our freshman year without going on an actual date you should ask Malia to the dance."
Stiles grabbed his lacrosse stick and followed Jackson to the door. "So I know you're okay with me dating Malia, but your brother-"
"Yeah we're definitely not telling him." Jackson cut in with a smile. "Or Laura maybe." He amended. "Cora either, actually."
Locker searches were a recent addition to the Beacon County Sheriff Department's repertoire. They were supposed to help cut down on the rampant drug problem that didn't exist; they were actually used to ferret out supernaturally inclined students for the Hale family. (Favors went a long way in Beacon Hills.) They were also supposed to be random. But you really couldn't call them that when Stiles knew they were going to happen before the school administration did...
Deputy Haigh and Principal Thomas were already waiting at his locker in the empty hallway when he rounded the corner. "Stilinski," Haigh smirked. "This should be good." Stiles tried not to roll his eyes too conspicuously and went to work on his combination.
At his feet the German Sheppard with Haigh whined and pawed at the floor. Haigh tightened his grip on the leash but the dog only barked in response. "Roscoe heel." Stiles commanded quietly. Immediately the dog silenced and resumed his pose. Haigh huffed and glowered over his shoulder.
Combination finished Stiles swung the locker door open and leaned against it taking in the shocked faces of both administrator and deputy as they looked over his locker that was empty save for one folded piece of notebook paper.
The deputy reached in and snatched the note. "Stiles Stilinski is smarter than me he-" Haigh's jaw tensed. He crumpled the paper and threw it at Stiles's chest
"Aw, that's so sweet Haigh." Stiles quipped as he caught the note, a half-smile on his face. "I didn't know you cared."
Next to them Principal Thomas sighed. "Go back to class Mr. Stilinski."
Stiles closed his locker and mock saluted the pair before turning and doing just that. Peter and Talia Hale were going to have to try a lot harder than that.
Stiles moved Lydia's game piece to the right one space. Malia and Jackson had left for the kitchen with their aunt/mother respectively and muffled sounds of an argument could be heard from where Lydia and Stiles remained in the living room.
She quirked a carefully sculpted eyebrow at him and opened her mouth, reaching for her game piece. "If you do that you're going to win in two rounds." Stiles told her quietly.
She started for a moment before recovering and putting on a benign smile. "Oh, I didn't-" But she trailed when she caught his eye. He still didn't understand why Lydia insisted on pretending she wasn't a certified genius but it was her secret to keep. She put the piece back on the board where he had moved it.
"Right." She cleared her throat. Her eyes were searching the table; he could see the gears turning at blinding speed as she considered her next move with him. Why would she hide that?
He decided to save her the effort of whatever lie or half-baked explanation she was intending to use this time. "It's fine." He told her. "I mean, I don't get it." He busied himself with shuffling the game deck. "But I haven't told him, and I'm not going to."
He wondered briefly what his ten-year-old self would think of him sitting there, playing a ridiculous board game with Lydia Martin. Of course his ten-year-old self would probably not have factored in that she was his best friend's girlfriend who was just in the other room with his actual girlfriend. He doubted even him from six months prior would have guessed it possible.
"It's not what you think." Lydia said quietly after a long pause.
Stiles stopped shuffling the deck and met her imploring gaze. "Lydia, you're the smartest person I've ever met," He tried not to sound like a lovesick teenager but he was a lovesick teenager so he didn't hold up much hope that he succeeded. "I have no idea why you do it, but it's not like it'd be the only thing that makes sense to you that I'm never going to understand."
When Malia and Jackson came back Stiles won the game, Malia finished third and, for the first time since they had all started hanging out together three months prior, Jackson came in last. It was almost progress he supposed.
There was a time when Stiles had not hated his hometown entirely. He'd actually kind of loved it, as difficult as that may have been to believe. But then his best friend had been murdered a year ago, his girlfriend just stopped talking to him one day, his dad, who was Sheriff at the time, had accused their family of being involved in the murder, and Stiles's whole world had fallen apart in less than four months.
The Hale family used their money and influence to get his dad recalled and Peter Hale installed as his replacement. His so-called friends made it clear which side they were on and that Stiles needed to choose similarly. He stuck by his dad. Everyone else not so much. Most surprisingly, or perhaps not, Malia included.
His dad wasn't content to just pack up and leave though; he had a duty to this town he'd said. He couldn't leave this place to the Hales or the Argents and their archaic philosophies and century old blood feud. Someone had to be here to stand up for the town. Someone had to make sure the people were a priority in the ongoing supernatural war. Apparently that someone was his dad.
So he had gotten his private investigation license and now that was how they made ends meet. When they could actually get them to meet anyway…
All of this was why Stiles was a little confused when he pulled up in the Jeep outside of his father's office and saw a brand new black Camaro parked in front that decidedly belonged to Derek Hale, Jackson's older brother. He paused just inside the office door stamped with 'Stilinski Investigations' among the roots of a tree stump and tried to listen to the voices on the other side without alerting them to his presence.
He caught his father's low rumble easily enough but it took him a second to pick out Derek Hale's timbre through the sheetrock and frosted glass. When he saw them move from their seats he darted into the reception desk with little grace, almost tipping the chair over and spilling onto the floor. But by the time Hale and his father opened the office door he was quietly sitting at the desk pulling Chinese food containers from the bag at his feet.
"I appreciate your discretion in this matter Sheriff." Derek said as the door opened. He shook Noah's offered hand.
"I'll do what I can." His dad replied. Derek nodded, his gaze falling on Stiles.
"Stiles." He acknowledged softly. The teen gave him a small nod in return.
Stiles tried to keep his voice even, "Derek."
"I'll call you if anything turns up." His dad led Hale to the door. Once he was gone Stiles's eyebrows shot up and his fixed his father with a look. "Absolutely not." His dad admonished as he took the seat on the other side of the desk.
"I didn't even say anything yet." Stiles observed with mock outrage.
"Yeah, well, it's not happening." His father broke open a pair of chopsticks and aimed for a carton of fried rice. Stiles pulled it from his grip and replaced it with a container of steamed vegetables. His dad sighed as he opened it. "You know I still have a gun right?"
"But not a medical degree." Stiles said around a mouthful of lo mein. He gestured with his own chopsticks. "Eat your vegetables and tell me why a guy you accused of obstruction is in your office on a Tuesday."
"Why does the day of the week matter?" His father asked with some exasperation.
"Why are you avoiding the question?" Stiles returned quickly. His dad seemed to be debating something internally and paused before he responded.
"I'll tell you," He finally said. "But after two egg rolls." He reached for the stack to his right. Stiles left hand shot out and covered them.
"One." He countered.
"Two."
Stiles slowly removed his hand with a huff. "Fine but no soy sauce." His dad groaned but acquiesced. "So what was Derek Hale doing here?"
His father put his first egg roll down. "He thinks Gerard Argent has been lying to the council." He took a bite of his food, savoring the ill-gotten gains. "He wants me to look into some of the traveling he's been doing recently. He thinks he may have broken the treaty."
Stiles rolled his eyes and wiped his hand on the napkin on his knee. "And that would be news?" He asked as he adjusted his glasses. "He cut a guy in half with a broadsword sophomore year."
"He's looking for actual proof he did it." His dad tried to steal a piece of shrimp from Stiles's container and the teen swatted his chopsticks away. "If the Hales have tangible proof they want to put him up against some hunter tribunal." His father shrugged one shoulder. "He's worried it's the only way to avoid another war."
Stiles dug around for a smaller shrimp with less sauce on it. "Well I can't say I'd be shocked if that psychopath had done something shady and illegal." He pulled the shrimp out and set it on his father's plate. "Is he paying your full fee?"
"I may have added a 'you had me kicked out of office' surcharge." His father returned with a smile.
"Good."
"So how was school?" His dad asked.
"Oh you know," Stiles replied with casual indifference. "The Hunters tied a kid to a flag pole, Peter Hale sent a deputy to search my locker, I got a 92 on my Chemistry test." He shrugged. "The usual."
"She won't do it." Jackson growled as he pushed past Stiles and into the latter's bedroom.
"No please come in." Stiles rolled his eyes and shut the door behind his friend. Jackson had taken to pacing the room with a dark glower. "Who won't do what now?"
"My mother." Jackson answered, as if that had been obvious. "Talia." He amended with disdain. Stiles moved into the shorter teen's path and put a placating hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down man, she won't do what? What's going on?" He steered Jackson to his bed and took a seat opposite him in his desk chair.
Jackson sighed heavily but the anger was still clear in his eyes. "She told me I had to wait until I was sixteen." He pointed at Stiles. "You remember right?" Before Stiles could answer Jackson continued. "She said I had to wait until I was sixteen and then I could have the bite."
Ah. It became clear. Stiles had honestly forgotten that promise and hadn't considered it a week ago when they celebrated Jackson's sixteenth birthday by getting fantastically drunk on a beach with two hundred of their closest friends. Gotten drunk because… Because Jackson had planned on not being able to soon. Like Cora, or Derek or Malia. It was a send-off.
"So did she change her mind or?" Stiles knew not being like his adoptive family had been a point of contention for Jackson since they were in elementary school. Cora was always faster and stronger. Derek was always winning basketball trophies. Laura had learned to full-body shift by twenty. He had been bidding his time, apparently only subsisting on Talia's promise of being turned once he was old enough.
"She said it's too dangerous." Jackson answered bitterly. "It isn't the right time." Stiles didn't tell him he was inclined to agree. "I'm not ready, I'm too angry, I'm need to-" He growled in frustration and stood abruptly. He walked to the window and braced his arms on either side. "She said maybe senior year. Maybe if I let go…" He trailed.
Stiles swallowed. Jackson wasn't easy to subdue when he lost his temper. And he really wasn't good with not getting his way. He loved the guy but he didn't take rejection well. To be fair it wasn't like he faced much of it, and hadn't mastered living vicariously through Stiles's massive amount.
"Okay, so you have to wait a little longer." Stiles applied carefully. "I mean that's two more years of getting drunk at bonfires right?" He tried for a laugh. Jackson gave no visible sign he had heard him. "You don't have to go to those crazy pack convention things." He continued. "Cora's always telling us how lame and creepy those are, getting up at like three am just to-"
"Yeah, you're right." Jackson turned to him with a too bright grin. Looking back Stiles should have noticed something was off. Jackson seemed to shake off his anger. "What's the point of taking us to State if I can't get drunk after we win right?"
An hour later his father headed to the airport to track down a lead in Colorado concerning Gerard Argent and Stiles had started his Trigonometry homework at the reception desk. He looked up when the outer office door opened and frowned.
"My dad's not here." He said as Tracy Stewart's father stepped into the room.
"Oh," The lawyer shifted his briefcase to his other hand. "I have a case for him."
"Well he's not here so…"
Stewart dropped a file onto the reception desk. "Maybe you could keep an eye on this for him then," He gestured vaguely. "You know until he gets back."
Stiles eyed the file and then Stewart. "I don't really know when he'll be back," He used his pencil to push the file closer to Stewart.
The lawyer's hand came down on top of the folder stopping its progression. "And yet, even with your dad out of town half the time somehow all the cases that come through here are still handled.
"We're efficient." Stiles replied, sitting further back into his seat.
"Well if in your…efficiency," Stewart returned, pushing the file back in front of Stiles, "This file about my client makes it's way to your…father I'd appreciate it."
Stiles's gaze flicked from the folder to the lawyer and back. He really needed to do something about his curiosity. Okay so his curiosity and his dependence on food, they could use the money. He grabbed the folder and opened it in his lap. He didn't miss Stewart's smile
"Tell your dad I said thanks." Stewart called over his shoulder as he left. Stiles's eyes didn't leave the pages in front of him. If the information in Stewart's client had given was correct the Sheriff's department had some explaining to do…
Dispatch had called it a disturbance. That's all. A disturbance at the Hale residence.
His father had told him to stay in the car but it was a foregone conclusion he wasn't going to listen. He was out and wandering around the side of the house into the backyard less than two minutes after his father had left him.
Jackson had said he had to talk to him, he told him he had something big to tell him, something important. Stiles had pressed Jackson to just tell him over text but his friend had insisted it had to be in person. They agreed to meet on the lacrosse field before school the next morning. He thought maybe Jackson and Lydia had broken up again, maybe he knew why Malia was treating him like he had leprosy, maybe Cora was coming back from Argentina, he had thought…
He had thought.
All of this left him when he saw Jackson's body. Jackson's body. Not Jackson. Not his friend. His best friend. His body. Jackson's body. He lying on the patio in his lacrosse jersey and jeans. Stiles hyperactive brain took in every detail. The lifelessness of his eyes, the dark pool of blood that soaked the bricks underneath him, the gaping wound on his shoulder, the odd angle his right knee had fallen in, his slightly open mouth like he was in the middle of calling out for help.
Stiles felt his chest cave in; suddenly everything seemed too close and too far away. Time was distorting, too sharp and too fuzzy, he couldn't, he had to, he needed, he turned to (run? scream?) and he made it back to the cruiser before he collapsed against it, his hand pressed against his chest as he tried to remember how to breathe.
Jackson. Jackson lifeless and on the cold ground. Jackson. Jackson was dead. His best friend was dead. He was dead and Stiles couldn't remember how to breathe.
According to Mr. Stewart's client a local bar was providing some extra-curricular entertainment. Anyone willing to pay an entrance fee could come watch supernatural beings beat each other bloody on weeknights after hours. It was the client's assertion that the evidence against her, a video tape of her literally soliciting a UC, was retaliation for her threatening to tell the local paper that security for these events was provided by none other than the Beacon Hills County Sheriff's Department. On the books.
Stiles had gotten a pinhole camera set up in the basement of the bar by paying off a delivery guy earlier in the night. Now he needed definitive proof that the deputies were arriving in an official capacity. He stationed himself across the street where he could easily film the officers entering and exiting in uniform and from their patrol cars.
He heard the motorcycle engines long before he saw them. Since the disappearance of Kate Argent the year prior the leadership of the Hunters had fallen to Allison, her niece. Stiles liked to think they were less ruthless under her reign, but no less intimidating. By her family's code the amateur sleuth could have been considered fair game, meaning violence against him was open to interpretation. He just had to hope the youngest Argent continued to be less trigger-happy.
He sighed as they encircled the Jeep and killed their engines. "This should be good." Stiles muttered. He reached beneath his seat and gripped what he found there beneath his open car window.
Argent gave him a sardonic smile. "Get lost on your way back to Eichen head-case?"
"Yeah actually," Stiles retorted. "You'd be surprised at how hard it is to drive while you're violently hallucinating."
Isaac Lahey, a recent edition to the Hunters, moved forward to grab Stiles through the window. "Hey Ally who gets-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence as he and two other members of the Hunters, Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd, fell to the ground clutching their ears and groaning.
Stiles raised his left hand from under the window where a sonic emitter was blinking in his palm. "Keeping odd company for an Argent aren't you?" He asked Allison drolly.
"Turn it off." Erica growled. Isaac made a week attempt to reach for Stiles's arm, which he just pulled back into his Jeep before silencing the device. When Isaac and the others shakily got to their feet Stiles brandished a taser rod and let it crackle once with electricity.
"Down, boy." He quipped icily when Isaac's glare turned murderous. Stiles moved his attention to Argent.
"You'll pay for that Stilinski." Lahey muttered under his breath.
"Cool it Isaac." Allison kept Stiles's gaze. "You shouldn't have interfered this morning."
Stiles rolled the emitter around in his palm. "I'll make you a deal." He said in lieu of replying to her directly. "You lay off of the new kid for a week and I'll make sure your Hunters walk on the weapons charge."
"Why do you care what happens to some scrappy little Omega?" A thought seemed to occur to her and she flashed a frosty grin. "Are you that desperate for friends, Stilinski? The voices not keeping you company anymore?"
"That's it." He shot back indifferently. "Imaginary friends are so flaky. And binge watching Gilmore Girls on your own just isn't the same."
Lahey took a step towards Stiles again only to find the taser beneath his chin. Allison sighed. "Alright." She waved Isaac off. "One week." She told Stiles as she moved back to her bike. "Then I come for you and your little dog too." At her word the rest of the Hunters moved to their bikes and drove off.
Stiles sank into his seat. One day he was going to live somewhere where his biggest claim to fame wasn't the time he almost blew up the entire high school. After all, it was only almost.
Stiles had stayed on the team to show the school, to show the town, that he wasn't affected by the whispers and sneers. He believed in his father, he would stand by him, and he didn't care what they had to say about it. That's why he went to the party. It was the celebrate them winning State, held at a secret location in the woods, far from the prying eyes of adults and law enforcement.
Stiles had never been much of a drinker but Jackson had dragged him to enough parties and put enough red Solo cups in his hands to make him wary of the liquid in front of him. It hadn't tasted quite right. He should have held onto that. Looking back he should have asked whose idea it was to throw the party at that spot exactly. He should have asked who had mixed the drinks. He should have realized Lydia was the only one not drinking.
Everyone hallucinated that night. Anyone who said otherwise was lying.
Not everyone was almost sacrificed by their English teacher to a tree. Not everyone survived bleeding on the nemeton, awakening a thousand year old fox-spirit. Not everyone spent the remainder of sophomore year blacking out.
The voices had started a week after the party. The dreams followed.
He admitted himself voluntarily after the bombing of the Sheriff's station. He would never know if he father still would have lost the re-election campaign had it not been for the Nogitsune. For him.
His diagnosis was bleak. The ward could only contain him for so long. Talia Hale came to him then. She told him of the lore surrounding the Nogitsune. "Change the host." She said and offered him the bite. As if she hadn't denied it to her son, likely been complicit in his murder to some degree, as if he had forgotten Jackson. He declined.
Change the host.
Deaton dosed him with wolf lichen and Stiles spent every waking minute searching for a way out. Change the host. He started with kitsune lore, moved to shape shifting mythology, poured over Christian and Japanese texts on exorcism. From what he could understand the spirit couldn't fully take hold without being properly woken by foxfire. Luckily Beacon Hills had yet to boast a thunder kitsune among its alumni. It was the Lichtenburg figure radiating from his shoulder that gave him the idea.
Deaton wouldn't condone Stiles's plan. "You are as likely to die as you are to survive." He insisted.
"I'm aware of that thank you." Stiles rubbed his newly scarred shoulder. "In case you haven't noticed I'm pretty much screwed either way."
"Your best chance is still the bite-"
"No."
They had that fight for another week before Deaton relented, before he deteriorated enough for it to be their only hope. The plan was three-fold. Stop his heart with a massive dose of electricity. Perform the ritual to summon the tanuki. Resuscitate Stiles. (Hopefully after the tanuki spirit had accepted the bargain.)
Deaton reminded him that he was essentially inviting possession from a different spirit rather than exorcising a malevolent one. But he needed something the nogitsune would never expect. He needed to outsmart the fox. The lore supported the idea; he had to have faith in something. Where the kitsune spirits sought to trick for temptation, the tanuki did it for the sake of proving the target's folly. Nothing in his research suggested they had malicious intent. They were at worst neutral. In it for the sake of the trick alone. And what greater deception could there be than out-witting a nogitsune?
One text he found had read, "The fox has seven disguises, the tanuki has eight." The nogitsune's hubris was its downfall. Stiles survived the ordeal. The nogitsune did not. Although it was not without souvenirs.
The scar on his shoulder never faded. It stood out, an angry crackling from his neck across the blade of his shoulder, and still burned during storms. Having been essentially struck by lightening he developed ocular cataracts and required surgery to remove them. His vision didn't fully recover. By the start of junior year he needed prescription lenses to compensate.
And a few nights a week the tanuki was there in his dreams, wearing Lydia Martin's face and demanding he lose a game of Irensei on the nogitsune's Go board.
One would think being the catalyst for Stiles's possession by the nogitsune, and the mass hallucination of most of the upperclassmen, would have had a deleterious affect on Lydia's social standing. Their English teacher had used Lydia's latent abilities to find the nemeton and poison the study body. However the awakening of her banshee potential seemed an afterthought to everyone in the wake of the sacrifices and Stiles subsequent meltdown. Lydia's transgressions were largely forgotten or ignored.
He thought maybe this would earn him a little understanding from her, if not gratitude. It was his spectacular decent into psychosis that kept her from the rumor mill.
She didn't seem to agree.
He kept his face passive when he heard the telltale click of her heels behind him, but his back stiffened. He was in the school's parking lot before the first bell, leaning over the open hood of his jeep, with duct tape in one hand and the other on an overflow hose.
"Oh look, if it isn't homo scaevitas in his natural habitat." She quipped. Next to her the twins Ethan and Aiden both chuckled, as if either actually understood the insult. Because who insulted people in Latin? Oh right, Lydia Martin.
Danny Mahealani frowned at Lydia and dropped Ethan's hand. Malia nudged her, but the strawberry blonde wouldn't be dissuaded, and she shrugged off the werecoyote's warning hand. "You know what Einstein's definition of insanity was right?" She asked as she leaned closer to him and inspected the Jeep.
"You know me Lydia," Stiles stood to his full height, his one advantage over her, and pulled out nearly a foot of tape before severing it with his teeth. "I love leaning into stereotypes." He reset his glasses. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the masses."
"You'd be the expert." She retorted, and her voice became colder. "The apple really didn't fall very far from the tree in your case did it?" Lydia smiled frostily. "Like mother like son after all…"
"Lydia that's enough." Malia cut in and she grabbed her friend's arm, pulling her back to the group. The brunette tried to catch his eye but Stiles's gaze was resolutely fixed on his engine block. He swallowed thickly and set his jaw. Once Stiles finished repairing the hose he closed the hood and headed to his first class.
This is why he didn't talk to people.
"Man, you should hear some of the things people say about you." New Guy said by way of greeting as he dropped into the seat across from Stiles.
Stiles looked up from his history textbook. He had been resting his forehead against his fist as he read and had been quite comfortable six seconds earlier. "Then why are you sitting here?" He couldn't keep his voice completely free of derision after that morning's encounter.
The new kid took a bite of his apple and frowned. "Because we're friends." He returned bemusedly. Stiles started and sat up.
Friends?
"Look, dude," Stiles sighed, losing his inclination to be cutting. "If people are saying such shitty things maybe you shouldn't-"
"I don't see the point in listening to people that left me tied to a flagpole when I could hang out with the one person willing to cut me down." New Guy flashed him a bright grin. "I'm Scott by the way."
"Stiles." He returned with a small smile. Maybe he could make an exception to his, 'never talk to anyone except under extreme duress' rule. It was harder than it should be to deny the affable teen across from him.
"So do you want to get the Hunters off your back?"
"I know it's not easy Danielle, I'm asking if you can do it." Stiles raised his eyebrows expectantly. Stiles and Danielle maintained something like an acquaintanceship of mutual respect. They both loved Heather; Heather had been sacrificed to a tree. They both hated everything and everyone that led to that event. One person in particular.
Danielle's head snapped up so she could fix him with a disapproving stare. "Of course I can do it." She looked back to the diagram. "I just don't want to know why."
Stiles shared a smile with Scott. "Deal." They chorused.
Two days later Scott met Stiles at his locker just before lunch. When the werewolf turned to head to their first classes Stiles stopped him and nodded to the opposite end of the hallway. Lydia Martin was walking towards her locker with a determined frown. Principal Thomas, Deputy Haigh and Roscoe followed her. Lydia entered her combination and swung the door open, pursing her lips and waving at her locker while looking to the deputy.
"What do we have here?" Haigh asked, reaching forward.
Lydia gasped and shrieked, "That is not mine!" Stiles smiled widely. Haigh took the contraband from her locker and held it aloft. Sometimes maintaining an acquaintanceship with the daughter of the owner of the local apothecary that could fabricate decidedly illegal charms was well worth it.
"This is your locker isn't it?"
"Well, yes, obviously, but that's not-" Lydia cast her gaze around the hallway and finally spotted Stiles and Scott at the other end. Her eyes narrowed. "You!" She ignored the principal and deputy and stalked towards the pair. "You did this Stilinski!"
"Miss Martin!" Principal Thomas called after her. "My office. Now."
Lydia sneered and Stiles laughed. "This isn't over!" She whispered to him menacingly. She huffed and turned with a growl back to the educator.
"Promise?" Stiles asked her back. She stomped her heel.
"So what happens now?" Scott asked as Stiles parked the Jeep in the back lot of the Sheriff's station.
"Now we see if Danielle got the ratio just right and if Tara is still using the same filing system for evidence." Stiles reached into the pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He opened the Bluetooth settings and handed it to Scott. "You want to do the honors?"
Scott gave him a bright grin and paired the devices. The pair waited, a few seconds passed, they shared a look. Maybe Danielle hadn't gotten the mixture right, maybe-
Then a blaring alarm sounded.
"Phase three complete." Stiles announced as smoke billowed from a nearby window.
Parrish was waiting for Stiles at the back gate of the impound lot an hour later. "Please tell me I didn't commit a felony today."
"I could tell you that if it'll help." Stiles replied. Parrish groaned but reached into his cruiser and tossed Stiles a heavy folder. "This everything?"
Parrish nodded. "As far as Beacon County is concerned the Hunters might as well have been arrested for jaywalking."
"Thanks Parrish." Stiles tossed the folder to Scott in the passenger seat of the Jeep. "And the tapes?"
Parrish smiled. "We'll see what Judge Simmons thinks tomorrow." Parrish grabbed another file folder from the hood of his cruiser and handed it Stiles. "Now get out of here before someone gets suspicious, that's the last thing I need this week." The deputy opened his car door. "Tell the Sheriff I said hey."
"Will do."
Scott met Stiles at his Jeep that Friday. He had an article from the local paper pulled up on his phone. Apparently during the trial against Stewart's client the video evidence had been swapped for footage chronicling the illegal extra curricular activities of some of the county's finest. A full investigation would be underway soon by an outside agency. It was hard not to smile.
Stiles pulled the folder containing the evidence against the Hunters from his backpack and handed it to Scott. "One down, one to go."
Allison was waiting for the pair in the courtyard. Dressed entirely in black and leather she was sitting on one of the tables with her feet on the bench, the rest of her crew languidly sprawled around her. Stiles tossed her the file, which she caught deftly.
"This is everything?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Erica and Isaac rose up to peer over her shoulder. Allison nodded. "Not bad loony bin."
"I'm touched." Stiles deadpanned.
"Uh, Stiles," Scott tapped him on the shoulder rapidly, gesturing back towards the parking lot. "Dude, your car." Stiles whipped around.
Lydia Martin was sitting on the open hood of his Jeep, flanked by the twins Ethan and Aiden, with a pocketknife in her hand that she was using to clean underneath her fingernails. She sat primly on the edge of engine looking entirely unconcerned. Stiles and Scott ran for the Wrangler.
"Did you know the radiator dates back to 15 AD?" Lydia remarked casually, seemingly to no one in particular. "Of course it was the Roman hypocaust, and it was meant for building space heating, but still." Her eyes flashed up to Stiles and Scott and she moved her knife from under her right index finger to trace the length of the Jeep's radiator hose. "Do you know what your little stunt cost me Stilinski?" She asked absently.
"I'm guessing not three to five with good behavior." Stiles replied. Lydia was not amused. She stabbed through his radiator hose savagely.
"Wrong answer basket case." She gave him a sickeningly sweet grin. "Care to try again?"
"Apparently your sense of humor." He returned dryly. She slashed his AC line. Joke was on her that hadn't worked in months.
"Wrong again." She sighed dramatically. "And usually you're so observant." Lydia posed the knife above his Master Cylinder Reservoir. "My mom took my keys to the lake house." She caught his gaze again. "My lake house. The lake house where we have the annual homecoming party." She propped her chin in her unoccupied hand. "Now how do you suppose we have the annual homecoming party when I don't have keys to my lake house?" She raised the knife and made to plunge it into the reservoir when a hand caught her at the forearm stopping the descent.
Lydia wrenched her arm from Erica Reyes's grip. "Excuse you." She spit bitingly. "This is a private conversation." Erica growled in response, her eyes flashing gold. Aiden turned to the wolf and his eyes flashed blue in return. Like a chain reaction Isaac on the opposite side with Ethan brandished his claws, followed by twin doing the same. Boyd stood off to the side just behind Allison.
The brunette reached forward and plucked the knife from Lydia's grasp with a tsk. "Last time I checked." Allison tossed the knife to Boyd behind her. "Any supernatural on human violence was supposed to go through me."
"Look, Argent," Lydia gave the other girl a tight smile. "My problem isn't with you." Lydia looked to the rest of the Hunters, a hint of disgust on her face. "Or your merry little band of misfit toys." She waved a hand.
Allison flashed a menacingly grin. "That's where you're wrong, red."
Scott leaned towards Stiles. "Why do I feel like there's more to this than-"
Stiles caught his eye and then turned back to the girls with a frown. "Because there is," He muttered under his breath.
Ethan and Aiden came up to the front of the Jeep as Lydia hopped down. "Take your muscle and leave banshee." Allison asserted as Isaac and Erica mirrored the twins. "Unless you can't count." She gestured from the now six assembled members of the Hunters that surrounded them to the three Pack members across from her.
Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and almost looked as if she intended to press the issue but before she could retort Ethan whispered in her ear and her frown deepened. She sought out Stiles and held his gaze. "This still isn't over." She promised.
"You keep saying that," Stiles returned with a half-smile. "I don't think it means what you think it means."
She muttered something in what he was pretty sure was Latin, a habit she had when she was particularly pissed, before turning on the ball of her foot, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and marching purposefully away.
Once she and the twins were gone Allison met Stiles and Scott at the curb. "This buys you some time Omega." The brunette told him sternly, gesturing with the file she still held. "But eventually you'll have to pick a side." She gave him a predatory smile. "Us or them."
Stiles looked to Scott and was surprised to find him completely unaffected by the Huntress's attention. If anything his steady gaze seemed to offset Allison. She actually faltered and her grin faded as she searched Scott's eyes for some response.
Scott gave her the same sweet, affable smile Stiles had gotten used to seeing over the past week. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. "Nah." His eyes swept over the Hunters. "I'm good."
Scott's warm brown eyes shifted suddenly to a bright searing red. Alpha red. He tipped forward into Allison's personal space to whisper in her ear. "You know you guys should really stop making so many assumptions around here." He leaned back and nudged Stiles with his elbow. "You ready to go man?"
Stiles cleared his throat. "Uh," He shook his head. "Yeah, yeah." He chuckled. "You know, after I tape up my radiator hose." They left the dumbfounded Hunters in the school parking lot.
That night Stiles thought he would returning to a still empty house. He was pleasantly surprised when he pulled into the driveway and saw his father's truck. When Stiles entered the house with his forearms covered in grease and coolant staining his t-shirt his dad gave him an exasperated look. "Do I even want to know?" He asked.
Stiles weighed this and shook his head. "Probably not."
"Okay, dinner's in ten." He turned back to the kitchen. "Maybe change first." He called over his shoulder. "Or shower."
Stiles rolled his eyes affectionately and headed up the stairs. Once he was there he locked his bedroom door, an incredibly rare occurrence, and pulled the second file Parrish had smuggled for him from his backpack. It wasn't that he didn't trust his father; it was just that his dad wanted to protect him and Stiles didn't need to be sheltered, he needed answers.
Stiles kicked out the loose baseboard underneath his window, catching it before it could clatter on the floor, and slid the folder into the exposed section of the wall.
Stamped along the edge was JACKSON HALE – CASE M-017863435.
Stiles replaced the baseboard and moved to the bathroom. Tonight he would shower, eat dinner with his father and badger him about his trip to Colorado. Tomorrow he would start solving his best friend's murder.
so this universe is too detailed in my head, lol. i don't see me continuing it past this (bc i don't see anyone but me being interested tbh). and can i just say how hard it was to write Lydia being that mean to Stiles? like it hurt you guys. :/
feel free to come yell at me on tumblr dot com if you have any questions let me know there or below. :) reviews are digital hugs