Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes as he flipped through his dad's journal for the billionth time. Although he had looked through it so many times he was pretty sure he had it memorized, the book did not contain any clues as to why John Winchester had been in Beacon Hills six years earlier.
He looked over at Sam who was still searching the Internet for clues.
"You got anything?" he asked his brother.
"Well it looks like there was some low level demon activity around here but nothing big enough to cause Dad to drive all the way out here," Sam said. "There was a horrible house fire that killed a whole family right around the time that you met up with Dad. It's since been reopened as an arson case but other than a hit and run that killed one woman, there was basically nothing going on here. You sure you don't remember anything Dad said when he called you out here?"
"Just to hurry up and get here," Dean replied. "Only by the time I got here, he told me the demon was taken care of and was ready to high-tail it out of here. Although…" Dean broke off and thought for a moment.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Do you remember Dad ever staying in town after a job to attend a funeral?" Dean said. "Because we stayed just long enough for him to visit the cemetery during a service and for him to introduce me to the Sheriff before he booked it out of town."
"No," Sam said, drawing out the 'O' and shaking his head. "Not that I can remember. Did the Sheriff say anything to you after he left?"
Dean shook his head. "Naw, his wife had just died and I didn't want to bother him so I didn't talk to him after Dad left. Come to think of it, Dad did act really strange when he introduced me but I never asked him about it."
"Strange how? Dad was strange about a lot of things. We hunt monsters for a living Dean," Sam quipped.
"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, as he leveled a look at his brother. "I don't know, like he didn't really know how to introduce him to me. The Sheriff started to say they were in the Marines together, but Dad said they knew each other from school. And they both kind of kept staring at each other, like they were waiting for the other person to say something first. It was weird."
"Huh," Sam said as he closed the laptop. "Looks like we're going to have to have another chat with the Sheriff in the morning."
/
Stiles' heart was pounding right out of his chest as he struggled to fit the key into the ignition of his little car – wait, what? – glancing through the windows of the vehicle to make sure he wasn't being followed – by who? – and he caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Familiar-but-unfamiliar brown eyes stared back at him. They looked just like his own eyes, but something wasn't right. They were set a little farther apart above a cute button nose, with too-long eyelashes painted darker with mascara. And was that eyeliner?! – what the hell is going on?! – His, no not his, his mother's – Jesus Christ – his mother's eyes widened and he looked quickly down at the body that was so familiar and yet not his, before the fear that had been chasing him since the smouldering Hale house caught up with him again. The body that didn't belong to him moved under its own volition, starting up the car and throwing it into gear before slamming down on the gas pedal and peeling away from the edge of the forest. Stiles watched through his mother's eyes as she navigated the road away from where Derek and his family had lived towards the town, panic beginning to ease in his chest as the road behind him remained empty. They weren't being followed.
Suddenly, the sound of an engine roaring drowned out his senses before an SUV blazed out of the forest in front of him and skidded onto the road to face him, blinding him with its high-beams. Stiles felt the body slam on the brakes and the small car shuddered to a stop.
A strange voice carried over the sound of the engine revving and, despite the windows of the car being rolled up, Stiles could hear it clearly.
"You can run, but you can't hide little Winchester," said the female voice. It sounded familiar to Stiles and he squinted through the headlights and tried to make out the driver of the vehicle but it was useless. "You should have known better. Did you really think we'd just let you get away with calling big brother for help?" The engine revved again. "Think again."
Stiles didn't even have time to react as the SUV gunned forward towards him. Luckily, the body moved for him, shifting the car into reverse and slamming on the gas. As the car picked up speed as it backed away from the oncoming SUV, Stiles felt the body jerk the wheel and pull the emergency brake to throw the car sideways before quickly throwing it into drive and peeling away out of the slide in a move Stiles had only ever seen in movies – how the hell does Mom know how to drive like this? – The gap between the two vehicles started to lengthen. Stiles did a silent cheer in his head before the sound of a gun went off and the rear windshield shattered under the impact of a bullet. He felt the car jerk to the side reflexively and the back of the car fishtailed on the road. Unfortunately, it gave whoever was shooting at them enough of a target to hit the wheel of the car. A shot rang out moments before he heard the loud bang of the rear tire exploding and he lost control of the car. It careened off the road and he covered his face with his arms as the car struck a tree and he was thrown into the airbag.
He must have blacked out for a moment because suddenly bright lights were shining in through the driver's side window. He raised his head and tried to look at where the light was coming from but everything was tinted red. He wiped a hand across his eyes and it came away smeared red with blood and black from mascara. He looked out the window again and could make out the outline of the SUV stopped fifty feet from his car, perpendicular to where his car lay on the side of the road. He knew what was coming as he frantically tried to start the engine again but it wouldn't turn over. He knew instinctively that the jammed seat belt buckle wouldn't give him enough time to pull himself out of the wreckage.
The sound of laughter carried over the sound of the SUV revving its engine before it started speeding toward where Stiles was helplessly trapped inside his mother's car. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror again and he caught his own gaze as a voice that was not his - but one he longed to hear again after six years – spilled out of his mouth. "Run Stiles," it said as the headlights drew closer.
"Run."
Stiles woke with a start and frantically looked around his room from where he had fallen asleep at his computer desk. His eyes were still dazzled as if he had really looked into the high-beams of a car and he could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. "Mom?" he said, voice hoarse as if he had been screaming.
Suddenly, the sound of metal slamming into metal was in his head and the sound of breaking glass filled his bedroom. "Mom," he whispered again, before he ran to the bathroom and vomited.
/
Derek knew he should have told Stiles about what he found at the library, but he couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed that the boy was related to a pair of Hunters. For all he knew, the Sheriff could have been a Hunter too, and just never told Stiles. It was unlikely though, because from what he'd seen of the Argents, they would never call for back-up unless they were completely out of their league, and even then it would be grudgingly. The Sheriff hadn't seemed pained that he had had to ask for help from the Winchesters so that wasn't it. And Stiles certainly wasn't a Hunter – he was more of a liability with a weapon than anything else.
Still.
He had planned on returning to the house after he had talked to Stiles about the omens but something inside him had told him to stay where he was, on the property line where the Stilinski house met the forest. So he sat in the shadows and watched Stiles' window, even though he hadn't seen any movement in a while. Stiles must have fallen asleep at his desk he thought to himself and he couldn't help the wave of emotion that rolled through his body or the contented hum of his wolf as the image of Stiles asleep and drooling on his now sticky keyboard flashed through his mind.
He remembered the flush of Stiles' cheeks when he said Not that kind of sticky, ohmygod Derek. What are you, like twelve? and his mind supplied the image of what Stiles would look like, flushed down the length of his naked body and covered in sweat as he watched videos on his computer. He wondered idly if Stiles would continue to talk and make noises or if he could be struck mute – but why do I care? He thought to himself as he had cut off that train of thought. I don't care what Stiles looks like naked, or if he makes any noise when he's coming, or if that big, loud mouth would look perfect wrapped around – he cut himself off again as his traitorous mind helpfully began providing pictures to go along with his commentary. He became aware of himself again as he noticed his claws were digging into his thigh and his jeans were painfully tight. Embarrassed even though there was no one around, he shook himself physically and mentally to get the thoughts of Stiles out of his head. He had better things to focus on, like why the Winchesters had shown up in Beacon Hills.
Something wasn't sitting well with Derek or his wolf and he could feel his hackles go up involuntarily and his fingernails begin lengthen into claws against his will. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. His heart was beating hard in his chest and the deep, usually calming, breaths he was taking weren't working. He knew if he looked in the mirror his eyes would be electric blue and he could feel his fangs cutting into his lip.
It isn't just the fact that Stiles' mother was related to Hunters and may have even been a Hunter herself, he thought to himself. There has to be something else. I shouldn't be losing control like this.
Suddenly Derek felt rather than heard the pounding of a heart coming from the second story window of the house he was watching from the tree line. Stiles!
Derek was rushing forward and scaling the house before he even realized it and stopped when he caught his reflection in the window of Stiles' bedroom. No fangs, no glowing eyes. He looked down at his hands and noticed that his claws had retracted and they were normal human hands again.
Before Derek could stop to think about what that meant, he noticed that Stiles' bedroom was empty but he could still hear his pounding heart, although it was slowing down a bit. He quietly slid the window open and climbed inside. He heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom and he silently crossed Stiles' room and slipped into the hallway, listening for the Sheriff's heartbeat. The sound was coming from the Sheriff's room, and judging by the lingering smell of whiskey emanating from underneath the door, it was unlikely that he had heard Stiles throwing up and wouldn't come investigating if he heard two voices.
"Stiles," Derek said as he slipped into the bathroom and saw the boy sprawled on the floor with his head resting against the porcelain of the toilet bowl. He went to close the door, but the smell of bile hit him and he forced his stomach to not heave up his own dinner. He was never good with the smell of vomit, even before he grew into his wolf senses. He left the door open to allow the room to vent.
"Stiles, what happened?" he asked as he knelt on the floor next to the prone boy.
"Wow, that sentence had punctuation. You must really be concerned," Stiles said dryly as he turned his head to look at the werewolf in his bathroom. The tear tracks on his cheeks glinted in the light when he moved. Derek felt his stomach clench but he stuffed down the emotions threatening to spill out and focused instead on the beating of Stiles' heart. It was still thumping erratically and made his own heart start to speed up to match its tempo.
Bewildered at his lack of control over his own body, Derek awkwardly placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and asked, "Are you okay?"
Stiles' heartbeat stuttered briefly when Derek touched him, but slowed down and evened out to a normal rhythm as Stiles took a deep breath and laid his head back down against the cool porcelain. His clenched his eyes shut and swallowed thickly before responding.
"No," he said, eyes still closed. "No, I don't think I am."
"What was it?" Derek asked, as his hand began moving in small circles on Stiles' back, seemingly of its own volition. Stiles tensed momentarily before giving a small sigh and relaxing against the touch. "Was it a panic attack?"
"No, it- well, sort of, but-" Stiles stopped and took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes and looking straight at Derek.
"I think I just watched my mom die."