Chapter 5 - Benefit of the Doubt - Stiles

"You don't need to worry about anything." It wasn't true of course, but it was a phrase that rolled off the tongue. An easy, blanket lie that people had been using for years and years, for things a lot less important than this. I was tired of saying it already, but I knew everything was far from over. Somehow, I managed to keep my face almost completely passive as Sadie's jaw dropped.

"Oh really?" she taunted skeptically, glaring up at me from her seat on the floor. "Well what if I'm worried about Lydia, hm? Stiles, she's my best friend, and right now she's breaking down just a couple yards away. I know that you care and you're worried about her, so just think! I'm around her a lot more than you are." That hit me in the stomach like a freight train. Not just because she'd felt the need to remind me that Lydia was drugged up and passed out from post-traumatic stress a few doors down from her room, but because I knew exactly what Sadie was trying to do. It was the same thing she'd done to get me over to her house—use my crush on Lydia against me. I'd fallen for it the first time—too worried about Lydia's mental state and excited to be in her house to care that Sadie wanted to grill me for answers. But this? This was completely different. This was Sadie using Lydia's safety as a bargaining chip. This was Sadie trying to suggest that I was so desperate for her best friend that I would literally throw her to the wolves to keep Lydia safe. She thought that I was completely capable of putting Lydia's safety over her well being, and what was worse, she was willing to agree. She knew something was up, knew that it was something dangerous that was getting people killed. And she was ready to dive in head first without a thought so she could get her footing and help her friend. "If you tell me what's going on I can do everything possible to keep her safe, and…!"

"You know," I cut her off harshly, "despite what you may think, I care about other people besides Lydia. I don't want you to get hurt! I don't need you involved in this!"

The room was silent after the outburst, and I realized that I should probably be trying to keep my voice down. My chest was heaving as I glared down at Sadie. How could she possibly be smart enough to notice everything that was going on, and then be so stupid as to actually want to get involved? Scott and I had spent weeks trying to keep an eye on her, trying to explain away everything she noticed—the bus attack, Derek showing up to school with a wolfsbane bullet in his arm, her getting attacked at the video store. It'd just been lie upon lie, and frankly, it was exhausting. And now she was trying to make all of my efforts pointless by forcing herself into the middle of the problem anyway. If I was being honest with myself, which was something I tried not to do too often, it wasn't just that I didn't need her involved. In fact, I just needed her to not be involved, to be safe. Because at the moment, I wasn't sure my conscience could take it if she got hurt because of something I told her, if anyone got hurt because I said anything. I wished I could convince her to just take a step back, that there were some things she was just better off not knowing about. But Sadie had never been okay with not knowing, not from the moment I'd asked to check out some books on werewolves, before she even knew my name. And all that determination was clear on her face as she peered up at me from between her lashes on the floor.

"Involved?" she repeated, and the quiet sincerity of her voice felt like a punch to the gut. "Stiles, you're my friend. You're in love with Lydia, who is my best friend. Scott is my friend, and he's dating Allison who is also my friend. Derek Hale just so happens to know who I am, where I live and where I work, and he seems pretty keen on attacking Jackson, who believe it or not is my friend too. And then last night, this thing attacked me and two of my friends and it could have killed me, but for some reason decided not to…" She trailed off for a moment, letting out a pitifully tired sigh. "Stiles…I don't think I can get much more involved…"

If that was supposed to make me feel better, it definitely didn't work. If anything, Sadie's little speech made me feel even worse. I knew what she was trying to say—that she didn't blame me, and that it wasn't my fault. Even if I didn't tell her, she'd eventually get dragged in because of Allison, or because of Lydia, or because of Jackson. But, in a way, that was my fault anyway. All of it was my fault, because when it came down to it, I was the reason Scott had gotten turned into a werewolf. All of this started because I wanted to see some stupid body and I dragged my best friend out into the woods and then left him alone. That made me responsible. People were getting hurt, and I had to do something about it. Maybe in that way, Sadie was right. Scott might have been the werewolf, but I was one of the only people in town who knew what was going on. It was driving me insane, knowing that I had to do something but not really having the power to do anything, and not being able to talk to anyone about it. And now here was Sadie, sitting in front of me and asking to be let in.

I took a minute to look at her—not just a scan of her body, but to actually look at her. I saw how she was sitting on the floor, her legs curled up underneath her and her free arm tucked in tight, like she was trying to become as small as possible. I knew it was probably because of the attack, that she was subconsciously making herself a smaller target. She didn't have on heels like she usually did, like Lydia always did, but a beat up pair of Converse, something she was probably more comfortable in, safer. I noticed her shirt, how she'd chosen one that was ruffle-y to make it look like she was trying, but black to blend in with her sling, so people might not notice right away. It pulled up slightly over the waistline of her jeans, but instead of ogling the exposed skin like I had before, I looked at the purpling bruises she was trying to hide on her hip. Her shoulder was bruised too, at least the part I could see between the sling and her sleeve. My eyes flicked up to her face, noticing how tired she really was. She hadn't been able to put on a lot of makeup because of her crippled arm, and normally that would have been fine, but today it exposed the dark bags under her eyes. I knew that Lydia had woken her up screaming, but I knew Sadie couldn't have been sleeping all that well in the first place. Not after a huge-ass werewolf had thrown her into a car. I eyed the small bandage on her forehead, just holding the skin together where it'd split from the impact. No. Sadie probably hadn't slept well at all.

I'd always felt like I had to protect her from what was really going on. But the problem was that Sadie was too smart to just believe the lies. Over the past couple weeks, because of her brains or determination or our slip-ups or random coincidences, she'd gotten way too close to figuring out the real answer. Practically all I had to do at this point was give her the right word. I thought back to the promise I'd made myself after Scott, Allison, Sadie and I had all gone out to lunch. 'Don't let her get too close, or she'll get too involved.' Well, that plan had completely backfired. I knew I'd failed miserably in not becoming her friend, and then she'd gotten attacked in a completely unpredictable incident. She was right. She was already too involved. So maybe…maybe at this point, the only way to keep her safe was to make sure she was prepared. Maybe knowing what was out there was really her best shot.

I suppressed a groan, tearing my eyes away from her and looking up towards the ceiling, to the walls, anywhere but her face. I hated making these decisions. Decision-making was the worst. Why was I, of all people, being forced to make such important decisions in the tenth grade?

I slumped forward, before pulling out my phone and checking for a message from Scott in vain. Of course there was none. I glanced over at Sadie again, who was watching me patiently and timidly. It was like she knew she'd cracked me, and didn't want to say a word in case I changed my mind again. How she knew exactly what was going on in my head was a mystery to me, and almost a little unsettling. I looked away, distracting myself by making one last ditch effort to call Scott before I did anything drastic.

"Hey, it's me," I sighed when Scott neglected to pick up yet again. "Look… I don't know what you want me to do, man. I'm here with Sadie still, and… I gotta do something. Just… Call me back. Please." Resigned, I disconnected, staring down at it for a few seconds as if that would make it light up with Scott's reply. Obviously, it didn't. I glanced at Sadie again, her timid but determined face. She was already suspicious. She'd already gotten hurt. The best thing I could do at this point was to make sure it didn't happen again. And that meant making sure she was prepared for what was really out there, knowing what she was up against. I had to tell her what was going on.

I held in a groan as my resolve finally snapped. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and walked over to Sadie, holding out a hand so I could help her up. It was probably going to be a long conversation, and while it definitely one of those you-might-want-to-sit-down things, it was probably better that she wasn't on the floor for the next however many hours it took to convince her. She just blinked up at me for a few seconds, and it almost killed me how innocent she looked.

"Come on," I urged, brandishing my hand to make the point. Slowly, she unwrapped her uninjured arm and grabbed my hand so I could pull her up to her feet. At a loss for what else to do, I dragged over to her bed, forcing her to plop down on the edge before I skittered over to the door. I quickly stuck my head out to check that the coast was clear. I knew Lydia was down for the count, but I had no idea how to explain away the conversation I was about to have if Mrs. Martin or Mrs. Bennet walked by. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, which meant that I could just shut the door and get down to business. I turned back to Sadie, opened my mouth to speak, and stopped short.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Great. Finally decide to tell her, and I didn't have a fucking clue what I was supposed to say. How did you just convince people that werewolves existed? I had the evidence, but even Scott hadn't believed me until he was too morphed to deny it. And Scott was my best friend. He was supposed to believe me on principal. But Sadie… Not only had I only known her for a few weeks, but she was also way out of my league. Sure, she liked the same monster movies I did, but that didn't mean she was ready to believe she was living one. She might have been suspicious, but I doubted she was desperate enough to consider the paranormal. So where did I start?

"Okay," I sighed, several minutes of frantic pacing later. I turned to her, but couldn't bring myself to actually look her in the eyes just yet. "Why don't you… Just tell me exactly why you think it's not a mountain lion. Exactly." Good. That was a good starting point. Figure out what she already suspected and work from there.

"Too big," she replied almost immediately. "And a mountain lion wouldn't have just slashed the clerk's throat and left. That's not what wild animals do." Her voice was even and steady, and I figured it was probably a speech she'd delivered over and over in her head, trying to make sense of everything. "Jackson seemed pretty convinced that it knocked the shelves over on purpose," she went on. "And then it was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck, and it just decided not to kill him. It could have killed me too, but when it crashed through the window it just sat there staring at me. And it wasn't lunging like a cougar, it was… It was like crouching. One hand between its legs and one behind it, like it—like it was squatting. And then it didn't come at me with its claws. It had the ability to knock me aside with one limb, like it just swung its arm. And then, you know… I'm pretty sure mountain lions don't have glowing red eyes…" I could hear her voice shake slightly towards the end, knew she had to be terrified by what she saw. But knowing wasn't going to make her feel any better. Finding out what it really was just meant finding out just how dangerous this whole thing really was, how much more dangerous it was going to get.

I turned to look out the window, chewing painfully on my bottom lip. There wasn't a guarantee of safety for anyone, but at least I could take away her fear of uncertainty.

"What if I told you…that it wasn't a wild animal…exactly?" I asked, picking my words slowly. I had no idea where I was going with this. I'd never imagined having to tell anyone about werewolves, and if I had, I would have imagined Scott with me. But right now I just felt like I was drowning, thrown in the water without knowing how to swim.

"Okay," Sadie allowed. "Then what was it?"

Okay. This was it. All I had to do was say it. She sounded pretty calm and reasonable, and she knew that something was off, that it wasn't normal. I just had to look at her and say it. Just say it. So I turned to her and stared into those big, apprehensive, brown eyes. I opened my mouth, and she raised her eyebrows slightly in expectation.

"Shit," I deflated, dropping my gaze once more and spinning away from her. What the fuck was I doing?

She was never gonna believe me. I was going to tell her and she was going to shoot me down in an instant. Throw me out of the house like the crazy, stalking lunatic she thought I was. I was gonna be in deep shit. Even if she did believe me I was gonna be in deep shit. How was I supposed to tell Sadie that there were werewolves running around slaughtering people and that I knew about it without implicating Scott? If I was telling her about werewolves, shouldn't I tell her about all the werewolves? But I couldn't just tell her my best friend's deepest, darkest secret without asking him first, right? I mean, this wasn't just hiding who he had a crush on or that he'd cheated on a test. This was revealing that he was a fucking werewolf. But I had to tell her. Scott could hate me for it, but I had to tell her. Eventually. And eventually, Scott would get over it. Just like I would eventually get over the fact that he wasn't answering his goddamn phone and left me to deal with this on my own.

I took another deep breath. Okay. Reason it out. She had to know.

"Okay, okay," I started up again, determined to make my point. "You said it—it was crouching, right? Like a human?"

"Kinda," she conceded, shrugging her shoulders. "And it didn't have paws, either. It almost looked like just hands with claws." I nodded, preparing for the moment of impact. And then I dropped the bomb.

"Right, so um… What… What would you say if I told you…it was a werewolf?"

I winced before she even answered, watching her through scrunched eyes and holding my breath. Sadie stared at me blankly, her face completely void of emotion, positive or negative.

"A werewolf?" she repeated plainly. I gulped, tossing my head to the side slightly.

"Yeah, what would you say if I told you that it was a werewolf?" I went back to holding my breath, watching her every move closely. The way her eyebrows rose slightly and then knitted together a fraction. The way her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked in rapid procession. The way her lips parted, twitching as she started a sentence two or three times before thinking better of it.

"I'd say that's pretty hard to believe," she replied finally. I'd been expecting it, trying to prepare myself for what I knew was the most likely answer. Still, having that tiny bit of hope yanked away from my felt like a slap in the face. My whole body relaxed. No. That wasn't the right word. I slumped, like taking away the chance she'd believe me had taken physical chunks out of me and I was collapsing in to replace them.

"Yeah," I breathed, dropping my eyes to my shoes in disappointment. "Of course you would." Without really thinking about it, I turned and walked to the far end of the room. Now what? She'd shut down the truth, and I couldn't blame her. Did I keep trying to convince her it was something supernatural, or did I come up with another outrageous lie to feed her? I didn't want to lie. I was so fucking sick of lying. But what else was there when no one wanted to listen to the truth?

Before I could make a decision, Sadie's voice floated across the room to me once more, cutting off the dismal train of thought.

"And then…I'd ask you why that's what you thought it was."

I froze mid step, slowly turning on the spot to look at her. She looked serious. Tentative, maybe. Skeptical, sure. But she didn't look like she was screwing with me. Breath started filling my chest again as my eyes widened.

"Seriously?" I prompted. She licked her lips slightly and nodded. "You're not gonna just…yell at me, or kick me out or like…push me against a wall and try to punch me?"

"No," Sadie replied immediately, sitting up straighter and actually looking like she was concerned. "You're my friend, Stiles." I let out a short bark of laughter, thinking back to how Scott had reacted when I'd tried to tell him he was a werewolf.

"That wouldn't stop most people," I said bitterly. Sadie softened for a moment, and I shifted under her probing stare.

"Well, you seem weirdly serious about this," she explained. "And you're not that good of an actor."

"Oh, thank you," I replied sardonically, but Sadie hardly batted an eye.

"You're welcome. So," she continued without missing a beat, "I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself. If you're right, I gave you the benefit of the doubt and if you're wrong…well at least I'll have the details of your delusion so I can tell the psychiatrists when they chuck you in the nut house." And then she smiled. She actually smiled. I told her that I was convinced there were werewolves running around killing people, and not only did she have the patience to hear me out, but she was smiling.

I was breathing slowly and shallowly, but as far as I was consciously aware, everything in the world had completely stopped. Sadie was ready to believe me. Maybe she didn't yet, but she had distinctly said the words "if you're right." Maybe that didn't seem like the most likely option at the moment, but she was willing to admit that it was there. I could be right. Everything she had even known about the world could be wrong, and if it was, she would accept it and agree with me. My own best friend hadn't been willing to agree to that. Scott hadn't even let me explain the entire theory before he shut me down, almost knocked me out, and then stormed out of the house. And now here was Sadie Bennet, the popular girl, friends with Lydia Martin, friends with Jackson Whittemore, friends with everyone important and important to everyone else. She was pretty, she was smart, she was witty, she was stubborn, she was interesting, and to top it all off, she was willing to listen to me as I tried to convince her that the thing that had bashed her into a car the night before was a werewolf. I think it goes without saying that I was floored.

I tried to start a sentence a few times, but didn't seem to be able to manage it. Sadie was still grinning at me timidly, and none of the words I wanted to use really seemed strong enough. I wanted to tell her how thankful I was that she was willing to listen, even if she didn't wind up believing me, because I had to get some of this stuff off my chest before I imploded. I wanted to tell her how amazing I currently thought she was for doing something for a weedy guy she'd known for a few weeks when his best friend wouldn't have taken him seriously. I wanted to tell her that she was probably fucking crazy for listening for me, for still wanting to hear the answer after "werewolf" was the only one I could provide, and that I was kind of happy that she was. But all of that sounded weird and hard to put into words. I was already trying to convince her of the impossible. It was probably best to not push my luck by trying to make an emotional declaration that would only make her feel awkward and less likely to listen.

"So you think this thing that attacked me is a werewolf?" she pressed, voice snapping me back into reality. Right. She wanted to listen. Which meant that this was the part where I was supposed to start talking.

I pushed all my feelings down—the nervousness, the relief, the fear, the happiness. I could finally talk about it. Even if Sadie didn't believe me, she was going to let me talk about it, to let out all of the thoughts and emotions that I'd been keeping pent up since Scott and I had gone for a fun, little adventure in the woods. And that's all I could ask for really. That's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me. Maybe then, I wouldn't go completely out of my mind.

"Uh, yeah. It's an Alpha."

A/N: Hallo! So this one's a little more intense, but when I was rereading the story, I thought it'd be an important one to do. Major step in their relationship, finding out about werewolves is. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!

-Brittney