Stiles was beginning to wonder if he was cursed. Legitimately so. Not the 'oh man, my life sucks' sort of cursed. The kind where witches chant around a voodoo doll or something. First Jackson, then Allison, and topped off beautifully by GI Jane werewolf and her fashionable werewolf Ken doll. Now he was being threatened into taking them to see the only other person in Beacon Hills that Stiles could think might be helpful.
"Ah, Stiles, I wasn't expecting you today. Scott's not working." Deacon Smith, Scott's boss, said cordially as he came to the front desk.
"No, but he's here, isn't he?" Stiles asked. Process of elimination brought Stiles to the only plausible conclusion: if he wasn't at home, Stiles', Allison's or Derek's, the vet's office was the only other place Scott would feel safe from Peter.
"I don't think that's such a good idea." Deacon stated, his eyes taking on a hard edge as he spied Brenna and Zane keeping their distance.
"They're…" Stiles looked over his shoulder at the glowering wolves, "Friends. Sort of. Scott, I know you can hear me. It's okay, man. They're here to help us take down Peter. You can trust me."
"Just listen to his heart, rookie." Brenna said, her voice wound tight. She caught the look Stiles tossed over his shoulder, "For the love of… please tell me Hale's at least taught him that much."
"Maybe you should come back another time. As I said, Scott's not here." Deacon reiterated, his steely gaze never leaving Brenna or Zane long enough for Stiles to get his attention.
"Now, listen here, sh…" Brenna charged forward, getting right up to the counter. Stiles watched as she winced mid-word, her limbs suddenly going heavy on her as if they'd all fallen asleep at the same time. A knee buckled, jerking her into the counter heavily. She cursed something called mountain ash as she retreated towards Zane.
"Scott!" Stiles shouted, using what little upper body strength he had to jump over the tall counter, heading into the back while Deacon was distracted by the growling threats fifteen feet from him. He saw his best friend cowering in the corner with his elbows perched on his drawn up knees, and his hands gripping his hair tightly. "Scott, c'mon."
"She knows, Stiles. Allison knows I'm a werewolf. It's over. Even if I get the cure, her father's going to kill me." Scott was borderline hysteric, "I'm dead, man. Dead!"
"Snap out of it!" Stiles snapped, their hands flying together in a fight as Stiles tried to grab at Scott who only resisted. Eventually, Stiles got a smack into Scott's face, a love tap the wolf probably didn't even feel, and managed to grab the lapel of his dirty dress shirt. Hauling his best friend up and pushing him roughly against the wall, he held him there until his knees locked. Then he began to drag the wolf into the main office.
"Don't get him too close to the counter." Deacon warned lightly, his voice good natured as he addressed Stiles, but his eyes still harboring animosity towards the other two in the room.
"It's mountain ash. It weakens werewolves." Zane informed Stiles at his confusion, earning an eye roll from his partner.
Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't even want to know right now. "Look, Scott. We need your help. You're the only one that can call out Peter. He wants you for his pack, so he'll come to you like he did before. And then they can play the Fred and Daphne to your Scooby and help you kill Peter."
"You're obviously Shaggy, so doesn't that make Derek the Velma in this analogy?" Zane questioned with poorly masked amusement, shooting a look at a smirking Brenna.
Stiles had the feeling he'd eventually pay for that, even though Derek wasn't in the room. He was beginning to feel itchy with the need to do something. Derek had obviously trusted him – whether because he thought could or because he didn't have any other options, Stiles didn't dwell on – to help him out of this. To get Brenna and Zane here, to get them to Scott, and all three of them to Derek.
"Listen!" He snapped to grab their attentions, the flat of his hand slamming down into the wood counter. He hissed when the force caved in underneath the heel of his palm, denting the apparently weak wood. See! Cursed. "Geez, you run an animal hospital and you have termites?" He directed at Deacon, who regarded the human teen with a blank expression. Shaking out his hand, he continued: "Killing Peter is your only option here, am I right? And no offense man, but you alone can't take on Peter. Hell, you and Derek probably can't take him on. He's older on top of being an Alpha. You need help. That's probably why Derek had me call them."
"Derek had you call them? When did that happen?" Scott questioned, looking confusedly between the two elder wolves and his best friend.
"After Peter nearly killed Lydia in front of me and then kidnapped me to track the GPS in your phone that Derek stole, and brought me along as a distraction for the hunters while he cut loose Derek." Stiles felt his anger building with each word of his recap. "Now Lydia's in a coma, Derek's being forced to follow Peter's orders, and I've been shoved, kicked, smacked, choked and threatened within an inch of my life by them and my dad and Peter and Chris Argent and Jackson, and here you are whining about Allison. Focus, Scott."
Scott looked appropriately chastised, concern swimming its way into his eyes. "Is Lydia going to be okay?" He wondered. The redhead was still a bit of a sensitive subject between him and Stiles, but he wanted to make sure – for his best friend's sake – that she'd be okay.
"Not really. I haven't been able to get her alone to check out if she'll be joining you to howl on pride rock next full moon." Stiles quipped, mentioning the cliff that people in town had nicknamed after the Lion King movie, because of its similarities to the pivotal scene in the movie. Stiles, however, had other words for it, considering that's the cliff his mother's car went off.
"That's it." Scott stated, eyes brightening as he was struck with an idea. "That's where we can call out Peter from. It's only a mile from Derek's house. We can go there afterward."
"The human doesn't come."
Stiles and Scott both looked to Brenna, having forgotten momentarily that the other two – three if you counted Deacon – were in the room with them. "No way in hell am I not seeing this through."
"You're human. You're vulnerable. Peter will go after you to get to Scott. He'll kill you for fun. You wouldn't end up coming out of this alive. You're not coming."
"You can stay here with me, Stiles." Deacon offered, patting the mountain ash. "You'll be safe and you can help fill in that hole you put in my counter."
"The only way I'm not going is if you knock me out and chain me up." He only realized as he was saying chain that he was probably giving them ideas. He needed to stop doing that!
"That can be arranged." Brenna retorted, stepping forward.
Even though the mountain ash was a hindrance, Stiles wasn't sure how effective it would be with completely keeping her away from him. He stepped back the same time that Scott stepped forward, his visage human but with animalistic canines. Stiles looked between the tight, angry stance of Scott protecting him, and Brenna mirroring, snapping her jaws.
"Stop! For crying out loud, just go." Stiles conceded. There were more important things at stake than him being in the middle of the foray. He looked at the four skeptical faces. "Don't worry. You won't hear my Jeep within five miles of the Hale house."
Brenna and Zane seemed content that there were no blips in his heart rate, so they told Scott to wrap it up and that they'd meet him at the alley entrance.
"I'll call you as soon as…" Scott paused, knowing in that moment that there could be a very real chance that he didn't win this. "I'll call you."
"Be careful? One funeral has been enough for me, okay?" Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder, trying to make light of it. But both could feel the heaviness in the air. Scott pulled him unexpectedly into a hug, clapping him on the back twice, before letting him go as quickly as it began.
Stiles watched as Scott disappeared through the back door, listening to the dogs howling as he went.
"Alright, well, I think I've got some plaster in the back. We can mix it and fill in the hole." Deacon said, starting to get himself and Stiles busy.
"Thanks, doc." Stiles said distractedly as he watched Brenna's Charger roar out of the parking lot at law breaking speeds. "But it's not going to be necessary." He didn't spare the vet so much as a glance as he walked out of the office, watching until the car was completely out of sight.
As soon as it was, Stiles pulled out his cell phone and dialed the most undesirable number in his arsenal of allies at the moment. "Jackson? Come out from whatever bush you're hiding behind and pick me up at the vet's."
He hung up his phone with little other fanfare. If Jackson truly was following him, he couldn't be far away. And after all, he'd said that they wouldn't hear his Jeep. A Porsche was most definitely not a Jeep.
Deacon watched as the only child of the Sheriff snatched the Porsche keys from Scott's lacrosse team co-captain, and climbed in the driver's side of the expensive car.
As it sped off, he calmed walked back to the counter and picked up the receiver for the phone. Pressing in the numbers he'd committed to memory, he waited for the ringing to abruptly shift to dead air. "It's happening." Is all he spoke, before hanging up the phone.
To be honest, this is mostly a filler chapter. Action starts in the next one. There's two left to this story. Thanks for all your reviews, everyone! Hope you're having a good one and that no one is in Irene's path. I narrowly escaped it here in Florida, so good luck to all.