A/N

Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long to post the next chapter, I kind of hit a wall while writing it. The next one will be up soon, I promise! I think there will be a couple more, but good news! I'm writing a sequel! One with an abundance of totally awesome characters. I've already started it, so the first chapter will go up after the last one of this. As always please review, check out my other stories, and enjoy!

Ch. 12

American Psycho

History was terrible, but it wasn't like Caroline, Bonnie, Tyler, Stefan, or Matt were paying attention. Even Alaric, the teacher, was frequently glancing over to the object of everyone's attention: Stiles. With every passing gaze his neat and tidy appearance faded to a haggard, dim one. His eyes were terrifyingly blank, almost dead like, and he stared at the board blankly and without speaking. He could clean up all he wanted, but something was clearly wrong with him. Everyone was just itching to get out of their seats, run over to him, and do a combination of comforting and bombarding with questions. Finally, the bell rang, and Stiles packed up his bag and trudged over to Alaric's desk, like he had promised. Caroline, Bonnie, Stefan and Tyler hung back as well, and Alaric looked at the group with uneasiness.

"Listen everyone-" Alaric began.

"Look," Stefan interrupted, "I don't know what happened with your wife, or where she is now, but Damon's locked in my cellar. If you want to talk to him I'm sure Zach will show you to him."

"I have no classes for the rest of the day." Alaric said. "I guess I'll go check it out. But Stiles, are you okay?" he asked the pale teenager.

Stiles gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm fine, Alaric. Like I said, I went for a run."

"A run through hell, maybe!" Tyler interjected. "You look like crap!"

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Bonnie asked worriedly. Stiles had a look of confusion on his face as he tried to remember.

"Yeah." he finally replied, face settling back into his blank look. Alarm bells were going off in Stefan's brain. If he didn't know any better he would say Stiles looked confused.

"You know, guys," Stefan said, "I think we should discuss this outside. And maybe meet Alaric at the boarding house." Everyone looked at Stefan confusedly with a dash of distrust, but the intent way he stared at Stiles made everyone worried. Alaric didn't even protest to them ditching the rest of the day of school. He bolted for his car, while everyone else surrounded Stiles as they walked along the grass, previous animosities instantly dissolved with worry for their friend.

"Stiles, did you come home last night?" Stefan asked. Caroline looked at him weirdly.

"Of course I did." Stiles replied in a matter that wasn't at all convincing.

"What are you doing?" Caroline asked Stefan. He didn't answer.

"What time did you come home?" Stefan asked Stiles. Stiles' eyes dilated as he tried to think.

"Uh... I don't know." Stiles offered unsurely. He looked confused and worried.

"And what time did you leave?" Stefan asked, almost reluctantly.

"I don't know." Stiles replied, quicker, but still confused.

"Well it must have been before 7:30, because that's when Caroline left." Stefan pressed. "So when was it? 6? 7?"

Stiles nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "I told you I don't know." He was plastered in sweat, however, which suggested otherwise. His perfectly blank face was now in pain and worried. He reached for his friends, as if he wasn't sure they were real.

"Did you see anyone on your way over? Did you stop at any red lights? Details, Stiles, details."

"I told you I DON'T KNOW!" Stiles shouted, his look now of horror. His friends stepped back from him, surprised, except for Stefan, who stood firmly in front of Stiles with his arms crossed and a look of grim satisfaction.

It clicked for Bonnie. "You think he's been compelled."

"I do." Stefan replied. "It would explain the blank features and the lack of details. Whoever did it did a sloppy job."

"That's impossible." Stiles said with a laugh, momentarily like his usual self. He began to roll up his sleeve. "I can't be compelled. I've got the bracelet Bonnie's grams gave me-"

He stopped mid-sentence, and the laughter died off of his face, when he saw that the silver bracelet was gone. Oddly enough, he wasn't at all bothered by the deep purple bruises, though everybody else gasped when they saw them. "That's impossible." Stiles muttered to himself, almost like a madman. "Where'd it go? No, no, no..."

Stefan put his hands firmly on Stiles' shoulders. "Stiles, you were compelled." he said calmly. "I need you to tell me what you remember."

"No, I can't do that." Stiles said quickly, sounding scared. He tried to jerk away from Stefan, but the vampire caught his wrist. Stiles yelped in pain, but Stefan ignored him, rolling up his flannel sleeve to examine it. The purple bruises were deep and accompanied by little cuts, as if something had been digging into his wrists. While they were too close and thick to make out shapes, they didn't look like fingers, leading Stefan to believe that Stiles had been tied up or chained, possibly for hours.

"Stop. You can't do that." Stiles said fearfully to Stefan, but again, Stefan ignored Stiles. He rolled up the sleeve further and then saw the finger marks. Five of them, on his forearm, possibly from dragging Stiles' unconscious body. Stefan looked up from Stiles' arm at Stiles, looked with all of his senses. Now that he was paying attention, he realized there was a thin layer of blood on Stiles' scalp, indetectable if you weren't a vampire. He hadn't made it home. He had been hit- or slammed- into something and been dragged off and tied up for hours.

"Stiles. Listen to me!" Stefan said urgently. Stiles stopped struggling. "You want to know why you've been unable to answer my questions? Because you never left the party and you never came to school, not willingly anyways. You've been compelled. You were hit on the head and dragged away, then tied up for hours. Either you escaped, or someone compelled you to come back."

Stiles' eyes swam back and forth as he processed the information. "No, no, please!" he begged, any composure he ever had breaking rather suddenly into tears. "Stop talking! Please!"

"Could he have escaped?" Tyler asked warily, eyeing Stiles with pity, confusion, and disgust.

"Not likely." Stefan said firmly. "The story about running was programmed into his head. He fixed his clothes in a way that didn't make sense, he had on a blank face all through class. Somebody compelled him to put on appearances, to erase suspicion, and did a sloppy job of it. This is bad."

"And it'd be better if he had escaped?" Elena asked incredulously.

"Yes." Stefan replied. "Because then we'd know someone would come after him. Instead, he's a trojan horse, and we have no idea what he's been compelled to do."

Everyone took a step back from Stiles, who was still silently crying, watching him warily.

"Is this an act?" Bonnie asked. "What's real?"

"This is a lot of compulsion. His whole personality has been repressed, replaced by basic functions. There's no way I can undo it without knowing what to undo."

"Is the crying real?" Matt asked.

"I think so." Stefan replied. "I think it's him trying to fight it. I think we're getting close to what he's been told to do. Stiles, where were you taken?"

Stiles shook his head furiously. "Stefan, stop!"

"What were you asked to do?"

"I can't tell you!"

"Who were you taken by?"

Stiles punched Stefan in the face. There was a sick THWACK! as Stefan's nose broke. The tears seemed to freeze on his face as the emotion drained out of it, replaced by steely resolve.

"I warned you." Stiles said calmly. As Stefan replaced his nose with a look of surprise, Stiles opened his backpack and took out a wooden stake.

"Stiles..." Stefan began warningly. "Whatever you're compelled to do, fight it!"

"I tried!" Stiles snapped. "I can't!"

"Can you at least remember what it is you're supposed to do?" Stefan asked, backing away from Stiles with his hands up.

"I'm supposed to stop you from finding out who compelled me!" Siles said with a desperate sarconism. "I guess that means kill you." He charged, stake in hand, towards Stefan. Stefan threw him to the ground, roughly but not enough to hurt him. Stiles landed on his forearms and twisted, scissoring his legs to catch Stefan behind the knees.

"Stiles!" Bonnie yelled as Stefan fell and Stiles jumped up. He ignored her and ran. Caroline chased after him and Stefan followed with his vampire speed. He grabbed Stiles by the back of his shirt and dragged him down. Stiles landed on his back with an "oomph!" and stabbed Stefan in the leg with the stake he was still holding.

Stefan fell down, again, and Caroline caught up. She held Stiles down while he tried to get up and finish the job.

"Caroline-get-off-of-me!" Stiles spat out as he struggled against her grip. She was strong, though, which is why it wasn't until Stefan had pulled out the stake in his leg that Stiles was able to break free and toss Caroline aside. Stefan rushed over to Stiles and pinned him against a tree.

"Stiles! Stop! I am trying not to hurt you!" Stefan shouted over Stiles' thrashing.

"Just compel him to stop!" Caroline exclaimed.

"I can't! Not without making things worse." Stefan pulled Stiles off of the ground by his neck, and Stiles clamped both of his hands around Stefan's in an attempt to shake him off.

Suddenly, Caroline shrieked, and a syringe appeared out of nowhere, jammed into Stefan's neck. Stefan groaned weakly, and dropped to the ground with a thud. Stiles dropped to his feet, wrapped his hands around his throat, and took a shuddering breath. He raised his head to look at his savior.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked.

"Who the hell are you?" Caroline screamed. "And what the hell did you do to Stefan?" She raised her fists defensively. Her friends, spectating, ran over to the tree from across the courtyard.

"Woah woah woah! Easy!" Dean said, holding the syringe up with his hands in a gesture of surrender, while Stiles still got his breathing under control. "My name is Dean Winchester. I'm Stiles' brother. And I hate to break it to you, but your friend here," he nudged a gasping Stefan with his toe, "is a vampire."

"Guys," Stiles rasped. "Get out of here. Now. Before I hurt someone else." Caroline looked reluctant, but Bonnie grabbed her wrist and the pair, along with Tyler and Matt, ran back into the school. Stiles rasped as he strained against the tree. It felt like his mind burst free. He was in control, at least for now, and while he still couldn't remember where he had been, he knew that some other force was making him attack his friends. His hands clenched as he tried to restrain himself from punching Dean, from trying to kill him.

Dean pulled out the machete from the lining of his green jacket, and held it up, about to swing down on Stefan.

"No-Dean-stop-help-" Stiles sputtered out. Dean did stop, and he looked at Stiles with concern, taking note of what appeared to be an inward struggle. He was at his brother's side in a heartbeat.

"Stiles, man, are you okay? Are you possessed?" He cursed as he fumbled in his jacket for his holy water flask.

"No-mind control- I'm-I'm gonna kill you!" Stiles gasped for breath between each word.

"You can try." Dean mumbled. Stiles let out a hysterical laugh as he sank to the ground on his knees, bending over and taking deep breaths as he tried to fight the compulsion. Dean bent down to comfort him, but suddenly he went flying across the grass. Damon stood over Stiles, looking down at him with repulsion.

"What the hell did you do to my brother?" he demanded. Stiles raised his gaze and saw Stefan still twitching on the ground.

"Dead man's blood-Damon-compulsion-help-" Damon sighed and picked Stiles up by the scruff of his shirt.

"It will stop hurting once you give in to it." Damon said simply. So Stiles did. And he punched Damon square in the jaw.

"What the hell." Damon muttered as he brought his hand to his bleeding split lip.

"Hey! Get away from my brother!" Dean shouted as he ran across the field from where he had been thrown.

Stiles threw another punch but Damon caught it. He squeezed, crushing Stiles' fingers.

"Augh!" Stiles exclaimed. Damon dropped his grip, only to be punched again, this time with enough force to fall down. Stiles looked at the perpetrator with wonder. Sam stood over Damon, gasping and holding his hand.

Stefan was getting to his feet just about then, gasping as he recovered from his dose of dead man's blood.

"What the hell did you do to me?" he asked Dean.

Damon rushed up from the ground at vampire speed and grabbed Stiles around his neck with one hand and another on the top of his head, making it clear he could snap it with one twist. He faced Sam and Dean, who put their hands up.

"Winchesters I presume." Damon snarled.

"Damon..." Stefan began warily.

"Stefan, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill them all right now. They attacked first!"

"I'll tell you why not you son of a bitch!" Dean snarled. Stefan ignored him.

"He's been compelled, Damon. He isn't doing anything by choice."

"What, he's just programmed to attack?" Dean asked angrily. "By who?"

"We don't know." Stefan admitted.

Just about then, Stiles elbowed Damon in the stomach, broke free, and started running again, only this time he was running towards a group of people that had just appeared at the edge of the courtyard.

"We need to get out there." Caroline mumbled as she watched the fight going on in the courtyard. With every punch and kick thrown, the collective inside flinched, growing more and more horrified at the skill and deadliness of the fight. Then a black car pulled up into the nearby parking lot, and two tall guys climbed out and ran like lightning towards the scene.

"Those must be Stiles' brothers." Bonnie whispered. "Sam and Dean."

"Damn, they're fast." Tyler commented.

They saw the shorter one outstrip the taller one and approach Stefan, but then a shrill sound buzzed over their heads. Second period had ended.

"We have to do something!" Matt said. "The whole school will see this nuthouse!"

"We've got to go stop it." Elena said simply. Then without further ado, they ran out the doors into the courtyard.