First things first: I do NOT OWN anything related to the worlds of Teen Wolf or Vampire Academy. I don't own the characters and I don't own the stories. I don't intend to gain anything from this. It's just for fun, people. No need to be mean if you don't like it. Just tell me and we can discuss it or work something out.
So the rights belong to Richelle Mead who wrote Vampire Academy and Jeff Davis who wrote Teen Wolf.
Act I
"We all go a little mad sometimes..."
Stiles hadn't had a single good night of sleep in two years. Scott wouldn't let him. Or better saying, the guilt of Scott's haunted soul wouldn't let either of them rest in peace. Every night was the same. The same dream. The same nightmare. It pulsed into Stiles and shook him away from the gorgeous red-head that had been giving him a sponge bath (that was definitely what he called a dream) and wrapped him in the familiar images of the car crash.
His eyes opened. "Scott," Stiles called out in the darkness. There was no answer. Stiles called again, this time with more urgency. "Scott!" He heard his friend moving in the other bed and the tension left his body.
"I had that dream again," Scott justified without need.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed."
They stayed there, quietly admiring the ceiling, until Scott decided to get up announcing his hunger to the world. Stiles sat up facing the window, attentively listening to Scott's footsteps. The moon was out and bright tonight; so bright in fact that Stiles could make out the silhouettes of trees and bushes.
And someone watching him.
Stiles stood up. The figure was about thirty feet away. It took just a moment for whoever it was to just disappear between the trees, but Stiles was sure of what he had seen. Icy fear raced through him and he bolted out of the room before you could have said 'mythological creatures suck'.
He found Scott rummaging through the refrigerator. "We have to go. Now."
Scott turned around, his eyes widening. "Are you… Are you sure?"
Stiles nodded, grabbing the car keys. Scott unhesitatingly followed him with complete faith that his friend would take care of everything. A certainty Stiles felt unworthy of.
They stepped outside, in their pajamas, their feet bare, their hands empty. Together they rushed down the street to where the car was parked. They could hear footsteps behind them. They were ten feet from the car when a girl stepped directly into their path.
She was young, maybe as young as they were. And tall for a girl, the type he could as well be dreaming about. A long, thick braid of brown hair fell down to her waist and she wore tight black clothes revealing her curves. Dark brown eyes pierced Stiles daring him to move.
Any other day, Stiles would'd considered asking her out. But his crush was irrelevant at the moment. Stiles realized they were surrounded. There were a dozen or so guardians, which was nice. It made Stiles feel like a threat. It meant they thought he was that good. The queen herself didn't travel with that many guardians! And they had thought it necessary to fight someone like Stiles.
With a cocky smile, he acted out of instinct. He leaped out in an offensive maneuver he hadn't used in two years. It was stupid and reckless. A reaction born out of false confidence. And, as it turned out, also hopeless considering the girl's speed. She knocked him off as though brushing away a fly. Her hands slammed into his chest sending Stiles backwards. He slammed onto the floor, gasping. He tried to get back up, but suddenly Scott was kneeling beside him.
"Don't," he asked.
Stiles sagged in defeat.
Sensing there'd be no more fighting from him, the girl stepped forward, turning her attention to Scott. "I'm Malia Tate," she said formally. "I'm here to take you back to the Academy, Mr McCall."
She made a point of sitting beside Stiles in the airplane. He didn't care. He knew it was so she could watch him and make sure he wouldn't try to escape, but unfortunately, Malia Tate also wanted to talk.
"Were you really going to attack us all?" she asked with an amused type of curiosity. Instead of answering, Stiles stared out the window absentmindedly. "Wow," she continued sounding unimpressed. "You imbecile. Why did you even try?"
Stiles glanced at her. He knew he was blushing and that angered him. "I'm his guardian," he said with as much dignity as the title could grant someone.
Malia Tate turned serious. "Well, it was stupid," she remarked, "but really brave." She moved, scanning the airplane for threats or something, and Stiles caught a glimpse of a tiny symbol tattooed on the back of her neck. The mark of a vampire slayer.
He pointed at it. "When did you get…?" The look she gave him made perfectly clear she was not going to discuss that with him. Stiles didn't insist, but thought the tattoo looked quite new. "Aren't you a little young to be a guardian?"
"Aren't you?"
"I'm not licensed," he admitted.
Her face softened. "I know. You haven't graduated yet."
"And you have?"
"With honors," she added pompously. "I had enough credits to graduate earlier. This is my first official assignment though."
"Congrats," he mumbled with jealousy thinking he would do anything to graduate early. Anything but study, that is.
When they arrived, Stiles asked Malia if they were being taken to Finstock.
"Principal Finstock," she corrected.
"I don't give a–" His words were cut short when they went through a set of doors right into the cafeteria. And it was breakfast time. Novice guardians and the half-breeds raised their heads to watch them come through. Stiles returned their stares with a lazy grin.
Everything looked the same, he noticed.
Jackson Whittemore still looked like the major jerk he was when Scott and Stiles left. Kate Argent, that shy girl, watched them with big, innocent eyes. Erica Reyes, who loved breaking rules, smiled and gave them the thumbs up. Hayden Romero, who always had a major crush on Scott, looked as hot as ever and watched them with interest. The only difference was that beside her now sat a golden haired boy who gave Scott and Stiles a look of pure hatred.
Stiles had no memory of ever wronging that boy. Or ever seeing him for that matter. But all badasses had enemies, right? Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that.
The walk of shame ended in Finstock's office. He looked exactly like Stiles remembered – pug faced, unkempt hair, crazy eyes. His office was just as disorganized. Stiles hated the place. He had spent a great amount of time in there.
"Scott." There was someone else in the room. Gerard Argent stepped out of the shadows, moving with difficulty.
"Gerard," said Scott greeting the family friend.
"I'm glad to see you safe, boy. And you, Stiles."
Stiles nodded back, trying to hide his shock. Gerard Argent looked on the verge of dying. He was Kate's father, only about forty, but he looked twice that age. Pale. Withered. Stiles wondered if he was going through one of those skin changes snakes did. He was a Nix after all; a shapeshifting water spirit.
"…responsibility reckless behavior!" Finstock was saying. "Self-centeredness…" Bleh. Stiles completely spaced out until the man shouted his name again. "Are you listening to me, Stilinski?"
Stiles blinked. "Yeah, sure."
"It wasn't his fault," ventured Scott. His voice and face were calm. "I wanted to go. It was my idea."
Finstock paced the office. "Mr McCall, you could have been the one who orchestrated the entire plan for all I know, but it was still Mr Stilinski's responsibility to make sure you didn't carry it out. If he'd done his duty, he would have notified someone. If he'd done his duty, he would've kept you safe."
"I did nothing but my duty!" snapped Stiles. "I kept him safe. For two years. I kept him safe when none of you could do it. I took him away to protect him. I did what I had to do-"
"Forgive me if I fail to see the logic of how taking Mr McCall out of a heavily guarded, magically secured environment is protecting him, Stilinski!" shouted Finstock. "The only reason you left, aside from the novelty of it, was to avoid the consequences of that horrible, destructive stunt you pulled just before—"
"That's not—"
"And that only makes my decision that much easier. Mr McCall must continue here for his own safety, but we have no such obligations to you. You will be sent away as soon as possible."
"I… what?"
Scott straightened up. "You can't do that. He's my guardian!"
"He is no such thing, particularly since he isn't even a guardian at all. He's a novice."
"But my parents—"
"I know what they wanted, Mr McCall, but Stilinski here is quite expendable. He doesn't deserve to be a guardian, and he will leave. God, if you were a magical being, Stilinski, you'd be a Puck. Mischievous little bastards—"
Stiles stared at Finstock. "Where are you going to send me? To my dad? You know what's gonna happen if you do that, right? He's just gonna send me right back!"
"They have a bond," Malia Tate said suddenly before Finstock could reply. All eyes fell on her but she didn't seem to care. She looked Stiles dead in the face. "You feel what he fells, don't you? You see what he sees."
Finstock glanced between Stiles and Scott. "That's not possible. It hasn't happened in—"
"I suspected as soon as I started watching them," said Malia.
"That is a gift," murmured Gerard Argent from his corner. "A rare wonderful thing."
"Only the best guardians had that bond," added Malia. "You taught us that, Principal Finstock. You said, in the stories-"
"Stories are no more than that!" exclaimed Finstock outraged. "And remember your place, Guardian Tate, you have barely left the Academy."
"Forgive me if I have given any offense. I merely meant that... he might be mentally challenged and disrespectful, but if he has the potential—"
"Mentally challenged? Disrespectful?" interrupted Stiles. "Who the hell are you anyway? You can't talk to me like that. I-"
Again, they didn't let him finish. "Guardian Tate, with the success of this rescue operation, has been granted the position you so desire, Stilinski. She is now Mr McCall's guardian. His sanctioned guardian."
"Why? What does she know? Because she got good grades, she's better than me? Please. She knows nothing about Scott. How is she going to protect him?"
Finstock threw his hands up in exasperation. "You undisciplined little—! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world wouldn't make me keep you here if you paid me, Stilinski! A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian."
"Then teach him," pushed Malia. "Get him training again."
"Impossible. He'll be hopelessly behind his peers."
"No, I won't!"
"Then give him extra training sessions," insisted Malia. Stiles raised an eyebrow. He tried to control his anger. She was pushing so hard he wondered what she had to gain with that.
"Who's going to put in the extra time?" demanded Finstock. "Everybody hates Stilinski. Unless… unless you're offering…?"
Malia stumbled in her own words. "I… Well, that's not what I—"
Finstock smiled. "See? He's not worth it."
Clearly at a loss, Malia frowned. Her eyes flickered toward Scott and Stiles, and the latter wondered what she was seeing. "Yes," she said finally. "I'll teach him. I'll give extra sessions along with the normal ones."
Nobody said anything else. Everyone seemed quite shocked.
Then Gerard Argent suddenly spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with Guardian Tate. Sending Stiles away would be a shame, a waste of talent."
Finstock wanted to die. "If Stilinski stays, here's how it will be." The crazy eyes focused on Stiles. "Your continued enrollment is probationary. Step out of line once and you're gone. You will attend all classes and required training for novices your age. You will also train with Guardian Tate in every spare moment you have: before and after classes. Other than that, you are banned from all social activities, except meals. Listen to me, Stilinski, I don't ever want to see your face in this office again. Ever again. You were never properly punished for destroying school property. You have a lot to make up for."
Stiles exhaled. "Fine. I'll behave," he promised.
Lots of people still coming to Beacon Hills! Be prepared...
