Quote of the fic:

"The damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive."
- Josephine Hart

OXXXO

A/N(aka pointless info): Not much to say about this really, it's pretty straight forward (and was really hard to think up a sum for). Chris Argent's thoughts on Stiles. I've been sitting on this fic for a while, I wrote it in the beginning of 3A…
Everything about this is dumb, everything I do is dumb… because I've got seriously crappy self-esteem. TT
Timeline: Mid-late season 1 perhaps early season 2.
Characters: Chris Argent. Mentioned: Stiles, Sheriff Stilinksi, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Alan Deaton and Mrs Gerard Argent. No Pairings (Unless you're so warped you manage conjure them up yourself… but I'm not responsible for that. And, trust me, you need to be warped on an epic level to get a pairing out of this.)

OXXXO

Chris Argent watched the Stilinski boy carefully. He was an interesting character. The boy seemed almost too opportunistic, too able. Like a clarity. He had the peculiar habit of ending up in lots of places he shouldn't, he always showed up at the "right" place at the most convenient time. As if something, incredible intuition, insight or whatever, had lead him there.

This lead Chris to one conclusion: Either the boy was well-timed or he had inside information. Information he shouldn't have unless he was deeply involved.

The boy seemed to have an eerie awareness of the more subtle workings of the universe, so to speak. It didn't take much for Chris to guess the Stilinski kid was one of the few, one of the few in the know: Those who willingly and knowingly immerged themselves with the otherworldly. But he wasn't a wolf. He was something far more aggravating, far more disturbing; something akin to a wolf in sheep clothing.

Chris had some of his hunters gather as much information they could on the kid and the first time he saw the boy's name in print he almost wondered if it was misspelled, they assured him it wasn't. But his name wasn't important his actions were, and his allegiances.

Once he read the file he knew the kid wasn't your everyday regular kid on the block. His father was the local sheriff, nothing too strange there. His mother had died when he was nine, unfortunate and very sad but nothing about her death seemed abnormal in any way.

However, that's where things stopped being average about this kid. He was highly intelligent, his teachers said he could outline entire histories and recite detailed passages word for word as if he was reading them right out of a book, he got straight A's without effort in all classes and his PSAT scores were off the chart but he seemed to have some behavioural issues, nothing outwardly malicious though, he was not a bully frankly he appeared the exact opposite, too compassionate. He just had difficulties focusing and staying still and quiet for longer than a few minutes. Easily distracted, unfocused vs. sometimes hyperfocused, impulsive and with some motivational difficulties. One of his elementary school teachers had described him as an extremely bright, fidgety kid with a far too big heart and a fierce sense of loyalty.

Loyalty.

But loyal to whom? Chris wondered.

The boy went by the nickname Stiles (which Chris did not find surprising at all, he would have gone with Stiles too had his parents named him something most of the world population couldn't pronounce to save their lives) and he had been seen associating with Derek Hale one time too many for it to be a coincidence, even in a small town like Beacon Hills where you're bound to run into everyone on a regular basis.

Derek is notorious so people notice him and anyone who hangs around him. And the one person in Beacon Hills to specifically be noticed by people if seen socializing with Hale was the Sheriff's son. That was the kind of thing that made whispers brew: The Sheriff's son hangs around with an older man he earlier accused of murderous rampage, an accusation he later recanted. That incident had caused quite a few raised eyebrows around town and, from Chris' personal experience, some morning coffees down the wind pipe.

It was almost laughable, in some warped kind of way; the Sheriff's son has questionable allegiances… and perhaps even more questionable loyalties.

Chris wonders if the Sheriff knows what his own son is up to. Maybe it's the perfect disguise; after all if you want to hide a book put it in a library. Most people, especially parents, even the ones in law-enforcement, are incapable of seeing what's right under their noses. It's always darkest right beneath the lamp.

As the son of the Sheriff Stiles has access to information others don't. He's in the perfect position to collect information, relay it to those involved or alter it if necessary. All he has to do is find a way to get it out of his old man. Which shouldn't be that hard; who would know which of the Sheriff's' weaknesses to exploit better than his own son?

And who would the Sheriff trust more than his bright, excellent son? The last person in the world he would suspect was his own child. The child he raised pretty much on his own.

Households in which one parent has died are different. The surviving parent and the child no longer communicate like regular families do. It's no longer simply a parent-child relationship; it runs much deeper than that.

They shoulder responsibility for each others wellbeing on a whole other level. They are inseparable; us against the world. They take care of each other. They are family, friends, therapists and most importantly lifelines, tied together by countless cords like patients in the ICU, in a way no other family structure can even begin to understand. They are the one you have shared unimaginable pain with. It's a bond which can be understood only by those who have lived it.

And it makes them fiercely protective of each other.

And as a consequence Chris was convinced the Stilinski boy knew he walked a tight rope. If he ended up on the wrong side of it one time too many he may end up getting his father fired. But in Chris' experience people like Stiles, unfortunately, tended to take laws as suggestions rather than set policies, it came with their chosen line of loyalty to walk the grey zone between legal and illegal.

There where ominous whispers brewing around Beacon Hills about the Sheriff's son who associates with a wanted man accused of everything from murder and drug dealing to running a cult. The son of the police chief who steals police property, has a restraining order filed against him, breaks in to forbidden areas and businesses after hours, sneaks into the morgue, manipulates evidence, is caught at more crime scenes than anyone else, engages in underage drinking and ignores a police enforced curfew.

What town would want a Sheriff who can't control his own child?

That's the kind of thing that would reflect badly on the force.

Granted, Chris is quite swayed to believe the crafty kid gets away with a lot more than he's ever caught doing, he probably gets away with most of it actually.

Just because the Argents saw and knew about it didn't mean the Sheriff did. There's a saying about two kinds of kids, in reality it's not as black and white as the saying suggests but on some level it does make sense: There are two kinds of kids in this world, good kids and bad kids and the good kids are simply bad kids who are smart enough to get away with whatever they're doing. And the Sheriff's unruly son had certainly proven to be one of them.

One of those people who walked a fine line. Who lived two lives; one where they shopped for groceries, cooked, cleaned, did laundry and went to work (or in this case school) and one where they put their knowledge of the bizarre to work and helped out nocturnal creatures of the supernatural, practiced magic, crafted spells, sigils and circles and made potions or herbal remedies or whatever the hell else those people saw the need to do in order to protect the werewolves. Chris had to admit he didn't really have a good grip on their purpose.

His mother had called them bloodline deceivers, those humans who chose the other side. Who chose to stand with the werewolves. They are human wolves. According to the Argents they are traitors, the lowest form of scum to walk the earth: those who have turned their backs on their own kind. On level with cannibals… or even lower than cannibals. Because at least cannibalism is anthropologically understandable, how you can betray your own kind in favour of a savage bloodthirsty monster isn't.

And they are a nuisance.

To the werewolves they are invaluable, advisors, researchers, problem solvers, fixers, planners, caretakers, healers and secret keepers. To the Argents they are agents, spies, infiltrators and defectors, as responsible for the deaths of thousands of people as the monsters they protect.

Therefore the Argents could, and did, consider them morally liable but they could never hold them responsible. Because they are human and the supernatural don't care about aiding and abetting.

Chris used to wonder why some humans decided to do it; pack with the werewolves. What did they gain from it? What was so fucked up in their lives that they ended up walking down that path? Were they just so damaged they had given up on humanity? Then why not simply become werewolves, why become the kind that betray their own?

It's not the aptitude of a healthy person. Healthy people do not aid in the torment of others. Generally it's the tormented spirit who torments others. They even torment themselves. Perhaps that was it; was it some distorted self-punishment?

Or was it something a simple as misguided loyalty? A sense of loyalty which ran deeper then he could understand.

Were they misanthropes? They sure didn't appear to be. Most of them seemed well adjusted, they were social and humane. They had jobs, usually in service areas: They were nurses, counsellors, social workers, paramedics, teachers… veterinarians. That seemed like contradictory career choices for those working for werewolves. Though, Chris knew it held true that if you wanted to find people with morbid fascinations for blood then look no further than those who seek out a medical profession: Doctors, surgeons, nurses and also law-enforcement. There are those who seek out these professions because of a genuine desire to help and then there are those who seek them out because they are a legitimate way of getting close to blood and gore.

Maybe those people simply saw the world a little differently. "Is it really so hard to see the world through another persons eyes?" Chris couldn't remember who had said that but he recalled the question and he had thought about it for many years and come to the conclusion that Yes, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't understand them, the bloodline deceivers.

So they must see the world in a different light.

But he did know that the spiritual and supernatural world does not answer to, or understand, human moral. Maybe that's what people like the Stilinski boy had the capacity to see. Maybe they understood that the world, especially the supernatural, is several different shades of grey better than anyone else. Even the greatest and best intentions can come across as evil if you don't have all the information behind them. Even the deepest desire to protect someone can be seen as a wish to cause harm to others. Humans call it defence by proxy: 'I will harm you to protect something or someone I care about and I don't care if you realize it or not'

But it still didn't make sense to him, why would a human help, care for and protect a monster that feasted on humans?

Chris had been taught since childhood that doing that was the ultimate betrayal. "If you stand by and watch the slaughter of your own only to support the perpetrators with whatever they need.., what does that make you?" His parents had asked him that when he was child but they had never answered it. Because the question wasn't actually a question, it was a lesson. It was supposed to teach him how to view those people.

And years later one of those people had asked him: "What preys on humans?"

Back then Chris hadn't answered but he had thought: 'What a stupid question; monsters do. Monsters like the ones you take care of.'

But it's not entirely true; the real answer to the question "What preys on humans?" is much more disturbing: Other humans.

Or at least humanoid monsters because humans are animals too so werewolves may simply be the blurring of the line between man and beast. The universe's way of reminding us we are animals. Subject to raw instinct.

If that was the case then the universe must have some untold vendetta against the Argents. Why would the universe have the Argents fight and kill supernatural humanoid monsters only to bring out humans that would protect them. It was like dangling a carrot and then hit anyone who got too close to it in the face with a brick.

The brick being those humans his mother had called bloodline deceivers.

And after careful consideration and examination of the evidence Chris was convinced the Stilinksi boy, Stiles, was one of them. And it really made his blood boil to think that the Sheriff's son would be so morally corrupted that he served, cared for and aided murderous monsters. Potential and otherwise.

Chris knew the Stilinski boy was the one who saved Hale and McCall. He may be McCall's emissary. (Deaton did appear to be some sort of mentor to the both of them). Whether Stiles was an emissary or not didn't matter because it didn't change the fact that he was a confirmed enemy. But he was still untouchable; he was human after all and the Argents went by the code.

However, Chris had to admit the boy didn't seem to wish harm on anyone. It seemed more as if he was desperately trying to prevent harm. He was helpful, compassionate and sensitive but also incredibly sharp and sarcastic. Despite his painstakingly caring persona he was outwardly mouthy and sardonic; he gave Chris the impression of having an anxious disposition. According to his medical records he had ADHD, displayed a few Autistic Spectrum traits and had after his mother's death been diagnosed with Panic Disorder and was prone to panic attacks and restless behaviour. That would explain the sarcasm; humour is a psychological defence mechanism and clever wit is a favourite shield of the anxious.

Perhaps the Argents had always been wrong about those people. Maybe their purpose was to prevent rather than aid; to save and to bear witness …to quell the monster instead of further its cause.

It's the Sheriff's job to uphold the law and thus keep everyone safe and maybe, technically, that was what his son was attempting to do as well; keep everyone safe… werewolves included.

The kid was useful; he was remarkably resourceful and very creative. He could talk people to distraction to the point where they left a conversation thinking the kid had told them everything and then later realized he hadn't actually said anything at all. Chris wondered if that was on purpose, he suspected it was to a certain degree. Which was somewhat unnerving since Chris is convinced this kid, who talks in circles and heptagons yet says very little, is dangerous in ways that don't require a licence to carry concealed.

Quote verbatim: they are a nuisance.

Because they are humans that blasted code forbade the Argents from harming them, even when they stood between them and the monsters. And from what he had seen and read of him he was certain the Stilinski boy would use himself as a human shield. They kid was the nurturing kind, a caretaker, the kind who puts the wellbeing of others ahead of their own. So someone else would have to watch out for him because he would forget about himself.

He was also strangely Clear. To the point where it was uncanny how this extraordinary kid seemed to just know things; either he had a degree of intuition beyond comparison or he was— something. Chris didn't need the be a Hunter to figure out that the Stilinski kid probably knew a lot more about what was going on with this town, and the people in it, than he was letting on.

The word Clairvoyant had come to mind. Because clairvoyant wasn't necessarily the same as psychic. Clairvoyant means clear vision; un-obscured, they don't have to be psychic, they have a – Knowing of sorts. A knowing they sometimes don't even recognize themselves, because of the human desire for logic and conformity they boil it down to 'just a gut feeling' or a sudden realisation. "Something about the guy just bugs me." "I think he's lying." "He's not telling us the whole story." "I'm telling you it's not Lydia!" "He didn't do it. All the evidence points to it but it still don't make sense. There has to be something else. Something we're missing. It's not enough." "That guy is not the perpetrator." People these days don't see it for what it is. So maybe the kid was a borderline clairvoyant or maybe he wasn't… maybe it was just a perceptive ability on the extreme.

The Stilinski boy certainly had the ability to see things others didn't see, to realize things, to make connections and recognize patterns, to see things in ways other couldn't, to shine light in the murkiest of waters and the darkest places, metaphorically speaking. He was like a fire. Fire brings light, life, purity, realisation, clarity, joy, energy, ecstasy and even hatred. …And Chris has a feeling that if you hurt someone that kid cares about you'd better watch out.

Because he was a fiery one… a spastic Spark.

THE END

A/N: I know I went off the deep end there for a sec… eeh, it's a fanfic, don't take it too seriously. ;)
The idea for the title I got from a song called "Curse of the Werewolf" the lyrics goes "Bloodline deceiver this is my call~~" but it sounds like: "Bloodline deceiver this is McCall" and I thought it was just too much of a funny coincidence to pass by…. It also pretty much gave me the idea for the fic. If you wanna hear the song just go to Youtube, I'm sure it's there. Timeless Miracle Curse of the werewolf.
And… well …English is my fourth language, so please don't slaughter me. I know there are a couple of grammatical errors in there and some of them are deliberate, some of them I'm fully aware of and some of them probably not…