Into the Wild
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Derek Hale returns home after college, and shortly thereafter, Stiles' carefully ordered life is turned on its ear. OOC. Eventual Derek/fem!Stiles Series AU.
Rating: M for language, violence, character death, and adult themes.
Author: tlyxor1.
Chapter One:
A week into 10th grade, and Michalina 'Stiles' Stilinska has fallen into a routine of classes, of pre-season training sessions with the Cross Country and Field Hockey teams, of homework, of the shrill screech of her alarm.
In many ways, it's familiar. Dull. Repetitive. The daily grind of Beacon Hills High School hasn't changed over the summer - it's the same old cliques, the same old drama, the same old tedium - but in others, it's different. She's a sophomore now, far from the wide-eyed freshman she ignores in the corridors, and all of her classes are different, as well. There are transfer students in her year, there is talk of cars and licenses and learner's permits, there is vague, abstract discussion regarding the future beyond high school.
Mostly, though, there is a dead body in the Beacon Hills Preserve, and Stiles can't escape conversation about it. Her classmates are afraid and morbidly curious, her father is paranoid and protective, and because he also happens to be Sheriff of Beacon Hills, her peers assume she has all the answers to all of their probably inappropriate, unsolicited questions.
In fairness, they assume correctly, but Stiles knows better than to blab out the details of an active case to all an sundry, and moreover, she wouldn't even want to. Not to her classmates, anyway, most of whom she can't care less about.
"I swear, it was a wolf," Scott insists, "And it was huge!"
Scott McCall is Stiles' best friend. They've known each other since kindergarten, had seen each other through the death of Stiles' Mom, through the lengthy, arduous divorce of Scott's parents, and it's hard to imagine life without him in it.
"There are no wolves in California," Stiles counters. She can't decide if Scott's yanking her chain, but the thought that her best friend has come up close and personal with a dangerous, deadly creature sends a frisson of panic through her entire being. She tries not to let it show, but she's probably not particularly successful. "It must have been a mountain lion or something. And how the hell did it not attack you?"
"I know what I saw, Stiles," Scott says stubbornly, "And I don't know. It's not like I was going to stick around to ask."
Stiles hums, unconvinced. "What were you doing out there, anyway?"
"You know that police radio you got me?" Scott asks. Stiles nods her confirmation, and Scott explains, "They were talking about a search party to find the other half of the body. I got curious."
"You got curious," she deadpans. "That's the dumbest thing I've heard all week."
Scott shrugs, unapologetic. "I found it, didn't I? And the thing that did it, too, though now I wish I didn't. I'm going to have nightmares for a month."
"Right," Stiles acknowledges. SHe's still skeptical, but nonetheless, "I guess you're going to have to show me. I'm not going to believe you, otherwise."
Scott sighs, beleaguered, but nonetheless, e acquiesces. "I dropped my inhaler, anyway. I'm going to have to go and find it, because Mom's going to kill me if I have to get another one."
"You've got your spare, though?"
Scott rolls his eyes, long-suffering. "Yes, Mom."
"Just making sure."
"Yeah, yeah," Scott mumbles. He picks listlessly at his lunch, and his gaze drifts over towards his most recent infatuation. Her name is Allison Argent, she's a transfer student, and she chats animatedly with Lydia Martin on the other side of the cafeteria. Scott, gazing adoringly at her (re: staring like a creeper), sighs, lovesick and hopeless with it, and says, "She's so pretty."
"You need to stop staring, Scotty," Stiles reminds him, "She'll think you're a weirdo, otherwise, and not the good kind."
Scott averts his gaze quickly, demolishes the remainder of his lunch with a startling, single-minded focus, and pesters Stiles for ways he can get Allison's attention. In turn, Stiles indulges him, but she's nonetheless relieved when the school bell blares shrilly overhead.
The feeling is fleeting.
"Ugh, Harris next," she laments, "Gag me."
Scott grunts his own displeasure, shoulders his backpack, and reluctantly trudges his way out of the cafeteria. Stiles falls into step beside him, and they half-heartedly discuss the Chemistry homework assigned in class the day prior. There'd been readings, a summary to complete and worksheets to fill, and Stiles has no idea how Scott had managed it all - and everything else - on top of his ill-advised attempt at sleuthing.
When she asks, Scott only shrugs, unruffled. "I half-assed it. It's not like Harris is going to give me an 'A', so why bother?"
"I kind of take it as a challenge," she admits, "Like, I'm not going to let a bitter, lonely old bastard tear me down so he can feel better about his boring, shitty old life, you know?"
Scott laughs, grins, and holds the classroom door for Stiles to pass through. "Whatever gets you through the day, I guess."
"Exactly," Stiles agrees, but they part ways before their conversation can continue further. Harris has assigned seats for his students, and because he's a sadist who enjoys inflicting misery upon others, he's placed Stiles in the front row, Cora Hale as her lab partner.
Admittedly, Cora isn't terrible. She's clever, can be relied upon to do her share of lab work and shared projects, but they're not friends - they're barely acquaintances, if they're acquaintances at all - and it's rather depressing to be consistently put in a position where Stiles' presence is clearly unwelcome. Cora Hale sticks to herself though - she's not really friends with anyone at Beacon Hills High - and Stiles tries not to take it personally.
Cora smiles politely at Stiles, Stiles returns the gesture in kind, and they busy themselves with their own things as the rest of their class files in around them. Harris watches them all with a gimlet eye, eventually calls them all to order, and scowls his way through yet another lesson on Atomic Structures. It's long-winded and lengthy - as is Harris' standard - but Stiles takes notes all the same, and eagerly awaits the day she won't ever have to see Harris face again.
Whether by her graduation, or his retirement, or something else entirely, that day can't arrive soon enough.
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