Author's Note: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Yeah. I own nothing.
3. Fanning the Flame
Peter smiled at the figures in the backseat of his stolen Prius. Stiles was still out cold leaning against Lydia's shoulder. There was still a bit of the purple dust on her cheeks, she would be out for a while yet, which was good. He'd recognized the howl from earlier. For whatever reason Derek was upset. That made Peter frown. He sighed and spoke.
"Sweet Lydia, did Stiles do anything before you knocked her out." Lydia nodded absently.
"Phone call." Peter frowned. He had instructed Lydia to knock Stiles out while she wasn't looking, deniability was key for him to be able to keep Lydia as a pawn. Lydia's blank eyes watched him from the back seat.
"To whom dear sweet Lydia? Was it Derek?" Lydia nodded slowly. Peter's frown deepened. He sighed.
"Good thing Derek is an idiot who only bites teenagers." He pulled off to the side of the roads near the preserve.
"Sweet Lydia, how about you wander around the preserve for a while. Take Stiles jacket with you too. Leave it somewhere for the pack to find." Lydia nodded and carefully took Stiles jacket off the still prone girl. Stiles was in a pair of shorts and a white tank top, she looked about halfway ready for lacrosse practice. Her red hoodie was swung around Lydia's shoulders as the redhead exited the car and wandered off into the trees. Stiles flopped fully onto the seat with the loss of her pillow. Peter smiled and reached back fastening her seat belt. No need to take unnecessary risks just yet. He brushed her hair out of her face and stole a touch of the pain from the lump on her head. She seemed to slip further into the hold of the powder he'd given Lydia to dose her with. He smiled as he pulled back out onto the road heading out of Beacon Hills.
Scott was practically foaming at the mouth as he leapt into Stiles window narrowly avoiding the pile of what smelled like dirty laundry under her window. Derek had known Peter was alive and had neglected to tell any of them. He could still hear Erica outside in the still running Camaro bitching him out about it. His eyes were glowing with his repressed anger both at Derek and at Peter. Peter who had Stiles. Peter the psychotic wolf who'd bitten him. Peter who had killed a multitude of people. Peter who could be doing god knew what to Stiles and Lydia right this very minute. He growled at the thought. He snagged Stiles shoes off the floor and stuffed them in his bag. He sniffed and snatched a few shirts from the pile of clothes under her window. He was so preoccupied searching for things that would work for tracking her scent he didn't notice the door open a touch, nor did he see the Sheriff watching him.
John Stilinski was worried. He hadn't had the best day, one of the tires on his cruiser had popped so he was for the moment without a car. The shouldn't have mattered, Stiles had her Jeep and would have let him borrow it to get to and from work. He was the only person she trusted to drive her baby safely. Except Stiles wasn't home when he got there. Her Jeep was nowhere in sight. He checked her room and found that her backpack and Lacrosse gear were also missing. He'd figured maybe practice ran late, so he called her. It rang through to voice mail. He tried again, still nothing. He called Scott, the boys phone was either off or dead because it sent him straight to voice mail. After trying Stiles twice more he got fed up and called the school. When he got coach Finstock on the phone he was greeted by an irate coach. Apparently his three best players had run off Isaac getting into a black Camaro and the others squeezing into Jacksons 'girly car' and taking off along with the fans in the stand. Apparently, he'd overheard some of what they had said. According to what the coach had overheard Stiles was skipping practice so were they. Something about that didn't sit right with him. Stiles could be a flake but he somehow couldn't picture half of first line ditching because she did. Then he'd heard something upstairs. He went up to investigate and found Scott grabbing his daughter's shoes. He was about to say something when Scott turned slightly. Then John saw his eyes and froze. They were a bright glowing gold. He watched as Scott grabbed some of Stiles T shirts and crept back out the window. He had to find out what was going on and fast. He had a feeling that it was nothing good for Stiles.