Chapter 10: Surprise!
Stiles parked his car on the deserted far edge of the town's municipal parking lot and took out his phone. He composed a text:
To Lydia:
Not going bk 2 UCI. Told DH will follow him to Europe. I stalk him or he agrees 2b my m8. Only u & D know. Will tell others after I tell dad at meal 2nite. Spk soon, XxXx
He wasn't surprised when his phone rang moments after he'd pressed the 'send' button.
"Lydia."
"Stiles, sweetie, are you sure? I mean, UCI? Your studies?"
"Yeah, Lydia, I'm sure. Since I made my decision I feel better. It's the right thing…hell, it's the only thing I can do."
"I sort of get that actually. Look, don't do anything until after tonight, um, after you celebrate your birthday with your dad. Oh, um, Happy Birthday by the way."
"Thanks, and yeah, I don't intend for anyone else to know until I've had a chance to tell dad. I'm so not looking forward to that conversation," Stiles groaned.
"But you've told Derek?"
"Yeah, about half an hour ago. I'm still shaking."
"So, what, he popped round for a visit?" Lydia asked, not hiding her natural curiosity.
"No. Derek's made it quite clear he never intends to see me again. But I had other plans so I troubled the tiger in his lair. Well, went to the old Hale house and shouted for the tiger, um, wolf. Seems even after all these years he still lurks around the place though it's more ruin than house. There's a metaphor in there somewhere."
"The world of academia will be the worse for your romantic, if somewhat misguided, quest."
"Thanks," Stiles barked out a harsh laugh, "Look, Lydia, I know you said you had plans today. But perhaps tomorrow we could meet up? You know, before the gang gets together for what I'm sure will just be using belated birthday celebrations as an excuse for some underage, and some now legal, drinking?"
"Of course, sweetie. And I'm sorry I have things on today. You should have timed your birthday for the weekend!"
"I'm sure my mom would have loved to have held back another 24 hours!" Stiles laughed, happily now. "Especially if she'd known she'd have been doing you a favour, Lydia!"
Lydia laughed, gave her apologies again for not being available and rang off.
Stiles smiled to himself as he jumped out of his car to go shopping.
His trip to the mall had been a welcome distraction from the melodrama that was now his life. His plans had given him a focus that was tangible; a set of problems that he could figure out solutions to.
Back at home, he showered and dressed for a party whilst trying not to look like he knew he wasn't dressing for a meal with his dad in a swanky restaurant. It was a delicate balancing act. He settled on a black tee under a blue plaid shirt with jeans in a black denim that looked smart without making him feel uncomfortable.
He was ready with hours to spare, but now he could concentrate on his plans to track a werewolf across the world. He began making lists, using several coloured pens, with sticky-note addendums, while he researched the cheapest routes to Europe and the cost of car hire there.
It was late afternoon when he sensed Scott on his roof. He knew it was Scott this time, no sudden thoughts of Derek; he knew better now. But he also hadn't thought that he had heard any sound from beyond his window. It was just that he had suddenly become aware of Scott's presence. He registered the weirdness of that for a brief moment, before abandoning that line of thought as he chalked it up to the 'back in Beacon Hills' effect.
"Hi, Scott," he called out, his back to the window.
A moment later the window opened and Scott dropped in. "Hey, dude. How did you know it was me? I wasn't even outside the window and I was like super wolf-stealthy."
"I did the math." Stiles said, deflecting, as he turned to his friend. "You're the only one using the window as a door these days."
"Yeah, but how did you even hear…Oh, Happy Birthday, dude!"
"Thanks, man," Stiles grinned, not least because he knew his best friend would now forget about his uncanny ability to detect him on his roof. Then, to Stiles' surprise, Scott grabbed him in a bear-hug and thumped his back almost ferociously, before releasing him quickly.
Stiles' grin broadened. "So, wanna check out that new game I bought down from Irvine? I'm crap at it so you stand a good chance of beating me."
"Um, no, another time?" Scott shrugged awkwardly.
"Sure, so what …"
"I need you to, um, what I mean is, perhaps we can go somewhere, get out of here for a bit?"
"Yeah, if you like. Dad's shift won't be over for a while and I'm all ready to go. Where did you have in mind? Because, I don't really want to go for a drink, um, not so early in the evening anyway." Stiles refrained from saying that the thought of ever taking another alcoholic drink turned his stomach. He'd swear off alcohol for good if he didn't know that at some stage in the middle of tonight's party – the one he shouldn't know about – he would find himself holding a cup of Lydia's punch.
"Yeah, no drink. Got that," Scott made a face to convey his heartfelt sympathy. "Let's blow." Scott turned briefly to the window before remembering the door and then trailed Stiles out of the house.
Outside, engine revving impatiently, was a low-slung Porsche in ink blue with shiny alloys. Jackson looked out with annoyance from the open driver's window.
"'lo Stiles. Get in. Oh, yeah, Happy Birthday."
Stiles was surprised. It was a bit early for the party. Yet here was his pumpkin coach. "Oh, hi, Jackson. Where are we going?"
"Yeah, like I'd tell you!" Jackson was his old cheery self.
Scott clambered into the back of the car, pulling the seat back for Stiles to ride shotgun.
The journey was nerve-wracking. Jackson was more grimly monosyllabic than usual and Scott was jittery, the way he got when he'd done something wrong and thought his mom had found out. Stiles was amazed that a little surprise party could make them so antsy.
They pulled into the driveway of Lydia's house and Stiles was baffled, then a little impressed, to see no other cars there and no signs that there would be a party that evening. He gave Lydia full credit for her ability to keep up the subterfuge.
Once out of the car, Jackson pointed down the side of the house to the entrance to the back yard.
"That way," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"We're meeting up with Lydia?" Stiles asked, playing along.
"Yeah, she's in the pool house," Jackson snapped.
"O-kaaay."
Stiles noticed Scott was hanging back, looking anxious. "Scott?"
"Yeah? Um, I'll, um. Allison! I'll wait here for Allison." Stiles could feel relief flood off of his friend. It was almost palpable.
"Sure," he nodded, "catch you and Allison later."
"Yeah, laters."
"C'mon, Lydia doesn't like to be kept waiting," Jackson said redundantly, practically growling as he pushed past Stiles and strode down the path towards the pool house.
The venue struck Stiles as strange because it had always been locked up and out-of-bounds during every other party Stiles had attended there; the Martin's attempt to not add to the teenage pregnancy statistics.
As they reached the small one-room hut on the bottom terrace, Lydia stepped out to greet them. She was holding something in her hand that was smoking!
"Ah, you're here. Good," she said as she grimaced a small, tight smile and air kissed the space in front of Stiles.
"Lydia, what the hell is … Is that a smudge stick?" Stiles asked incredulously.
"Did you leave your nose at home? Of course it's a smudge stick," Lydia retorted brusquely.
"And your pool house needs cleansing because …"
"Look for yourself," Lydia stepped away from the doorway and gave Stiles a little push.
As he steadied himself just inside the door two things assailed him; a woody top note over the smell of the sage smudge stick that he recognised immediately as mountain ash, and the unmistakable prickling of his skin that he associated with Derek's presence.
He whirled round to see Lydia empting a bag of mountain ash across the threshold of the pool house door.
"Lydia? What…?"
"Intervention," she announced, one hand on her hip in emphasis. "You two need to sort yourselves out. Once and for all."
She gestured over Stiles' shoulder with a tilt of her head. He turned to look and could make out a familiar shadowy outline of surly shoulders sunken in the deeper shadow in the far corner of the hut. His former stalker was across the room, still lurking, still watching him, and he felt his pulse stutter.
"Both of you are miserable apart," Lydia continued flatly, "so we've bought you together to resolve this. If he wasn't a werewolf I'd be knocking both your silly heads together."
Stiles looked back at Lydia in amazement, his anger rising, his mouth opening to protest and curse at her. But he immediately forgot what he was about to say when he saw the other's standing around her. Jackson was at her elbow, of course, and Scott was just behind him. But there were others too. Allison, her father (Chris, why is Chris here?), Deaton, (Deaton? WTF?) Danny (Danny's back in town?) and, flanking Lydia across from Jackson, his own father.
"Dad?"
"I'm sorry, son. Derek," the Sheriff acknowledged the werewolf in the shadows. "Stiles, I didn't want to interfere. But Lydia's right; you both need to start acting like adults. Your 21st is as good a time as any. You can hate me tomorrow but tonight you end this, one way or another. And I meant what I said Stiles, I'll back your play, but I need to know you've thought about your game-plan."
"But…" Stiles went to step out of the room and found his foot hitting something. He looked down. Nothing but the line of mountain ash, which would impede werewolves but not humans. He put his foot out again and it definitely hit an obstacle; an invisible obstacle. "What the f…"
"Language!" barked his dad.
Lydia stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Stiles," she said not looking sorry at all, "I've had the mountain ash enchanted. There's a really delightful coven near Palo Alto… Well, anyway, neither you nor Derek can exit without the help of the other. If you both agree, you will be able to just brush away the mountain ash together and leave. But you both have to be 'of one mind' is how the witch explained it to me."
"I told you in confidence, Lydia," Stiles complained bitterly.
"Yes, but Scott already knew," at Stiles' confused look Lydia continued, "He came to yours this morning to wish you 'Happy Birthday' and got there just as you were leaving. He followed you to Derek's place. Heard what you said. He was worried for you. We're all worried for you. And your dad went to see Mr Argent about you and that's when Scott turned up to see Allison. Allison might have mentioned it to me, so of course… Anyway, none of us want you to leave. And we don't want you to be unhappy either. You need to get your shit together, boys.
"So, off you go. When you're ready, come and join us up at the house and we'll get the birthday celebrations started, or, you know, the commiseration wake. Your choice. Love you!"
"Let me out, Lydia!" Stiles demanded angrily.
Lydia moved forward until she was close enough for Stiles to touch her but for the mountain ash maintaining a barrier between them.
"FYI," Lydia said, her voice low enough that only Stiles and the werewolves could hear her," my birthday present to you is in the side table drawer. Enjoy!"
She smiled enigmatically, then pivoted on her ludicrously high heels, flicking her hair back as she began walking away.
"Happy Birthday!" she called out cheerfully.
"Lydia!" Stiles yelled after her, his panic drowning out his anger.
She ignored him as she took point to lead the small, sorry-looking band of people back up to the house.
Stiles cursed and turned away in frustration. And for the first time in more than three years, Stiles found himself looking into the eyes of Derek Hale.