Stiles was alone in the locker room, staring blankly at the floor. He had no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was leaving the cafeteria at lunch to get a soda from the vending machine. His cell phone was on the bench next to him, vibrating non-stop, but he could not bring himself to answer the phone call. Stiles felt sick and the smell of burning flesh would not leave him alone. "Holy god," he gasped before actually getting up and running to the nearest stall to empty the contents of his stomach.
He cringed when he pulled away, flushing the toilet while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before going to the sink to gather some water in his hands to splash onto his face. He rinsed out his mouth and washed his hands while he was there, wishing he did not feel so... dirty. "Fuck," the teen said with a heavy, shaky exhale, closing his eyes as he stood there. When he opened his eyes again, he found someone else in the locker room behind him, spotting the figure in the mirror. He spun around to see Mr. Hogg standing there with a rather intimidating smirk. "Uh..."
The school principal held up Stiles' phone as he said, "I told your uncle that you got caught up assisting me in reorganizing the library." He raised an eyebrow as he studied the paler-than-usual teen in front of him. "Now, tell me, Stiles. What are you doing here after hours?" He smirked again as Stiles seemed to struggle to come up with an answer. "You're not in sports and I highly doubt the librarian would have stayed this long."
"Uhm... I just came back, found an open door, because I forgot something; and, then I felt sick, so..." Stiles did not stammer over his words, but the amused glint in Mr. Hogg's eyes made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "I'm just gonna go. Can I have my phone back?"
"Catch."
Without farther warning, the principal tossed the phone at Stiles' face, who barely caught it before it hit him. Stiles grabbed his backpack and quickly left, not sure if he imagined or actually heard the principal say, "I'll be seeing you, Mr. Stilinski."
Stiles ran out to his Jeep and quickly left the school, calling Sam as he drove. "Hey, yeah, sorry," he said, flinching a little when he heard Dean shouting in the background. Apparently, he and Castiel were already back. "I got asked to help fix the library for extra credit." He had interrupted the yelling from both Dean and Sam, who both quietened a little. "Sorry. I forgot to warn you. I'll be home in like ten minutes, you can yell at me then."
It was after his uncles and Castiel had gone to bed that Stiles realized how restless he was. He could not sleep, though he wanted to and he did try, staring at the ceiling from his bed. Something was going on, and he was pretty sure that no matter what it was, it wasn't good. "Holy god," Stiles groaned once again, pushing himself up off his bed so that he could go over to his desk where he opened up his laptop. He was only allowed to use it for homework and hunting research, but he could erase his tracks.
He started out simply watching some mindless comedy movie while drinking some chamomile tea that he hoped would calm him down. Stiles bounced his knee and swung from side-to-side in the rotating chair that he occupied. It was not working, he realized at some point after one in the morning. Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had not missed a dose of his Adderall, nor had he taken more than the right amount; so, he had no idea why he could not calm down. His heart felt like it was beating more rapidly than usual. His mind would not settle, either. Somehow, he found himself going through different forums and sites on the supernatural. A lot of them were wrong, others had vague ideas of what was right, and still others were so accurate they had to have been put up by hunters.
Stiles was about to give up and take some Benedryl enough to make him drowsy so that he could sleep when he found himself reading a page on possession. His brow furrowed the longer he read, and after a while (Stiles honestly had no idea how long he had been there), he quickly closed the tab, cleared his history, and shut the laptop, all but jumping out of his chair. Stiles heart was beating even more rapidly and he felt a bit faint. That could not be what was going on with him. There would be a sulfur smell, and none of the werewolves had said anything. So, it was not there. Stiles continued to reassure himself that it was just a coincidence. It was something else going on with him. It was probably magic related. He needed to find someone to talk to that wasn't his family, part of the pack, or one of the Argents; and, he needed to do it soon.
He sighed and glanced over at the clock on his bedside table, frowning when he saw that his alarm was about to go off. He went over and shut off the timer before going to grab the clothes he would wear to school and then went into the bathroom for a quick shower. After he had gotten ready for the day, he made his way back downstairs to the kitchen. Castiel was eying him while cooking breakfast as Sam and Dean both sat at the table, discussing the Argents coming over for dinner that evening and going to talk to Deaton at some point about something they had found out about while working with Garth. "Alan's here?" questioned Stiles, perking up a little more as he grabbed the glass of milk that had been set out for him.
"Yep," replied Dean with a nod, closing the journal that was spread open on the table. "Something big's going down, kid. Keep your guard up for anything unusual."
Stiles did not miss the way that Castiel's gaze fell onto him again and he busied himself with sitting down and drinking his milk after nodding. "Could I go talk to him after school?" questioned Stiles, twisting his glass around on top of the table. "You could call him and make sure I go there and everything. I'd like to see him again. S'been a while."
The brothers shared a look, not exactly sure if they should agree to it; but, they knew that Deaton had helped a lot with Stiles' training, and he had helped them in a lot of sticky situations. Plus, the man had been a good friend of Stiles' father. "Sure, kid," replied Sam after a moment with a nod. "Just an hour, though. Then, you come here and start on the dishes or homework."
"Yeah, alright, thanks." Stiles beamed and finished off the milk in the glass before setting it aside, feeling a little nauseous. He was not sure he would be able to force himself to eat any of the breakfast. "I should probably go. I've got to talk to Mr. Harris about this problem on my chemistry homework." Stiles did not wait for a response before he was rushing for the door, getting out of the house as soon as possible.
He had no explanation for his actions, he realized as he drove toward Scott's house. He had just felt trapped or something. Stiles was not sure what the feeling was. All he knew was that it was almost similar to a panic attack, like there was too much going on all at once. His skin felt too tight, too much; and, he had no idea what was going on with him.
Scott did not seem to notice that anything was different, however. Maybe it was all in Stiles' head, then. It would not have surprised him if it was simply a result of stress and little sleep. Then again, he had never had blackouts because of that before. "Dude, are you okay?" Scott asked when they were almost to the school, neither one of them bothering to check their cell phones that were vibrating in their own hoodie pockets.
"Yeah, s'just been an odd few days," replied Stiles with a distracted nod, his brow furrowing a little as he turned into the school parking lot, which was filled with police cars and an ambulance. Stiles' face blanched even more than it was to a point where it almost looked ashen as he watched them load a stretcher into the ambulance with a black bag strapped to the top of it. "What's going on?"
"I have no idea," Scott mumbled as the two of them got out and made their way to the small crowd of people that were near the police tape line, none of them having received the call about classes being canceled for the day before having left for school.
The two teens stood there, trying to get a glimpse of anything that might tell them what was going on. Stiles' stomach rolled when he heard someone whispering furiously about hearing that some janitor was burned to death in the school the night before using ingredients from the chemistry lab. It was too specific to have not been on purpose. The only thing no one could figure out was who would want to attack a janitor. Stiles felt sick and he stumbled back toward his Jeep, starting a little when Scott was suddenly at his side, asking if he was okay. "I-I need, oh my god, Scott," Stiles stumbled over his words, eyes darting across the parking lot to where the principal was leaning back against his black sports car. "I think I'm... I've..." Scott's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried again to ask what was wrong and Stiles shook his head, climbing into the Jeep.
Scott stood there dumbly as Stiles sped off for a moment before pulling out his cell phone to call Derek. "Hey, uh, I think... Dude, I think something's really messed up right now," he said, his brow furrowing as he looked from the school to the direction that Stiles had driven. "Some guy was killed at the school last night and Stiles is... well, I dunno. He just freaked and left."
Stiles parked the Jeep outside the animal clinic in town, not sure how he knew that it was where Alan was working, but he knew. Running a hand over his face with a heavy sigh, the teen climbed out of the car and then went inside the building. "Alan?" he called, looking around a little while walking over toward the low wall that divided the back of the clinic and the waiting area, pausing to look at the top of the swinging door, fingers brushing along the side of it.
"Stiles," replied Alan Deaton as he came out of the back, a faint smile tugging on his lips. "I never expected to see you here. When did you...?"
"Almost a month now." Stiles mumbled the words, glancing over at the calendar. Halloween was drawing even more close. "Fitting. Huh." The teen then looked back to the veterinarian, whose expression had gone stoney and arms had crossed over his chest. Stiles just grinned though he was not fully sure why. He did not want to smile. He had nothing to smile over. He seemed to be fighting for consciousness, something making him want to pass out or something. The teen barely had time to react before he was no longer fully aware of what was going on.
Everything seemed muted and he tried to move away from Deaton but his body did not respond. Then, Stiles froze as he heard his own voice saying, "Well, I see you're quick on the uptake, Deaton." A chuckled passed his lips but it was a lot darker than anything he had been known to produce. "Mountain ash. Very neat trick."
"Which one are you?" questioned the man behind the counter, all but glaring at Stiles.
No, Stiles told himself. Deaton was not really glaring at him, but at whatever it was that had control over him at the moment. It was pretty exhausting trying to keep up with what was going on and to keep what little awareness he had. His body simply smirked and made a vague motion with his hand that sent Deaton stumbling back, nearly falling into the wall. "Hmm... not nearly what I had hoped. Your mountain ash trick is effective, then," stated Stiles. No, no, it wasn't him, Stiles told himself once again. The entire thing was completely frustrating.
Stiles' awareness faded to nothing after that until he found himself parking the Jeep outside of his house. The teen's heart was racing and he was not sure why. Stiles' brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, looking over toward the house. A car that Stiles knew to belong to Chris Argent was parked out front, next to the Camaro. Stiles did a double take at that. The Camaro? What was Derek doing there? He quickly turned off the Jeep, and then made his way inside the house. He only got as far as the living room when he stopped, seeing his uncles, Castiel, Chris, and Derek all standing there. Their expressions varied, but the most common one would be one of confusion.
He took a step forward to go over to them and ask what was going on when he realized that he could not move any farther and his gaze slowly trailed upward to where a hasty, red devil's trap was painted onto the ceiling. A smirk twisted up on Stiles' lips as his gaze lowered to the others in the room and Dean let out a nearly feral sounding growl at the fact that his nephews eyes were completely blacked out. "Deaton was right," Sam said with a scowl, his grip on the knife that they had gotten from Ruby all that time ago shifting. Chris had the Colt in hand and Derek seemed completely out of place.
"Well, now, that isn't very friendly," stated Stiles as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Has anyone ever told you that you don't play well with others, Dean?"
"What do you want with Stiles?" was all that he received in response. Well, the demon controlling him received the answer, anyway.
The demon clicked his tongue and sighed with a shake of his head. "Really? That's the first question you're going to ask?" stated the creature as he started to walk around the circle a little to expel some of the excess energy that the body he was claiming had. "After taking the poor boy's dear old dad, didn't you think I'd get him next? This is such a nice suit, though. I think I may keep it."
Derek's confused expression only seemed to grow as he looked between Stiles and the hunters in the room. He had simply gone to the house to see if Stiles was there after what Scott had told him. However, Deaton's phone call had interrupted their conversation and they had asked Derek to stay. "I thought you knew," Castiel said softly, looking over at Dean. "That was why I was asking..."
"What we were going to do with Stiles," stated Dean, his voice barely audible to even Derek as he looked from the angel to his nephew's body. "What I want to know is how did you even possess him in the first place?"
The demon dropped a hand down to his side and pulled out a black, leather cord that looked as though it was what had made up the anti-possession necklace that Stiles was supposed to always wear. "The thing about these," he stated as he tossed the cord out of the circle created by the devil's trap, "are that they can so easily be ripped off without even alarming the wearer. You really should have just gotten him the tattoo."
:O Some questions have been answered. More on how Stiles got possessed will be in the next chapter!
