I don't think there are words enough to stress how sorry I am for not updating this sooner. I really am sorry.
Thank you so much for sticking with me.
I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.
Keep Walking
because staying still isn't an option
"You think they'll go with this plan?" Isaac whispers just as they hear Stiles's door closing, and Scott sighs in answer.
"I don't know. It kind of seems like it's the only one we've got. This Alpha Pack thing sounds really dangerous."
"But… wasn't Peter your enemy at some point? Didn't Derek actually kill him? And now we're going to trust him with this?"
Isaac's voice is incredulous and just the tiniest bit afraid. They have everything to lose now. They are a pack, and they are being threatened, and if they don't deal with this very, very carefully, they were all going to die.
Scott decides not to answer to that. He just lets out a harsh breath and burrows a little deeper into the couch he's sitting on. He doesn't have the answers, and if there's one good thing about him being in Derek's pack – apart from the whole mate-situation, but he doesn't want to think about that yet – is that it's not for him to make decisions anymore. He doesn't have to think things through, he doesn't need to have all the answers – hell, he doesn't need to have any answer.
Maybe he'd be a good leader, maybe he has the potential, but truth is that's never what he wanted. He doesn't want to have a pack he has to lead: he wants to have a pack he can count on, depend on, be happy with.
Maybe, just maybe, be normal with.
Which seems more and more unlikely with every passing second, but, hey, hope is the last to die, right?
"Didn't it bother you?" Isaac says after a few minutes in silence, and Scott looks at him inquisitively, not getting it, "Stiles saying we are all alive. That none of us was harmed, that no one died. Boyd is dead. For all we know, Erica is too."
"They were never Stiles's pack, though" Scott says, and Isaac stares at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Erica beat him up with a part of his own car and dropped him in a dumpster, and Boyd never looked at him with anything but contempt. Sure, he protected you guys at the rave and all, but he did that because he had to. Because he knew we had to. For Stiles, I was his pack. Me, and Lydia, and maybe Derek? His dad. My mom. I don't know that he'd die to protect anyone else, and, honestly? He's counting the people he cares about as not being harmed. He's coming up ahead because that's how he is."
"That's harsh" Isaac comments, looking down, and Scott shrugs.
"That's Stiles. He's not a Disney princess. Jackson has no idea how bad he has it" Scott finishes with a small, playful smirk, and Isaac answers it in kind before they fall into a companionable silence.
It's getting easier, this being around Isaac thing. They can't afford to think about them as a couple yet, not until this threat of the Alpha Pack is cleared, but it doesn't seem quite so hard now.
It doesn't feel like a punishment anymore.
It's probably the sense of imminent death that does it, but Scott will take what he can get.
It seems to be what everyone else is doing anyway.
X
Jackson can't seem to fall asleep. He just can't. He tries to close his eyes, and just let the night wash over him, and finally lose consciousness, and he can't do it.
He needs Stiles.
It seems like a lifetime away, but just that afternoon his mate was all about hating him. They had fought harshly, and the worst of it all was that they meant what they had said. Stiles's heart didn't stutter once when he was saying how little he thought of Jackson, and truth is that Jackson actually was pissed that Stiles wasn't just thrilled that he was Jackson's mate.
The body in his backyard brought them both some perspective, but now that the imminent threat is sinking in, now that the actual situation is dealt with and they have to plan, he kind of wants to… be near Stiles. Be with him. He needs to, like an actual physical need.
He turns on his side once more, and realizes it's almost three in the morning. Danny is so quiet by his side, but Jackson notices his breathing isn't quite as relaxed as before – hasn't been in a while, actually.
"Danny?" he whispers, "Are you awake?"
"Your eyes glow in the dark" his best friend answers, his voice a tired, hushed whisper.
"Sorry" Jackson answers, before sighing, "I can't sleep. I have to… I have to see him. I'm scared for him, how crazy is that? I need… I need to be with him" he finishes miserably, and Danny sighs again.
"Just go, Jackson."
"I can't. I'm not leaving you alone after everything we've seen today, and after Peter said they are out to kill us all."
When he finishes speaking, Jackson actually gets up and turns on the light, putting his – Stiles's, actually – clothes back on.
"Come on, we'll leave a note for your mom, and then we'll head to Stiles's place."
Danny looks for half a second as if he wants to argue, but then seems to think better of it, and gets out of bed, shaking his head. He gathers a few pieces of clothing, but doesn't take off his pajamas.
"I'm going like this, because I actually plan on sleeping" he says, and they leave quietly, a note on the kitchen table, so Danny's mom won't be alarmed if she wakes up.
The drive to Stiles's house is quiet and so very nervous. It should be a fifteen minute drive, tops, but Jackson keeps on expecting something to show up from behind a bush, or an actual Alpha to come to the middle of the street and turn his car over, eating both of them.
It's really unnerving.
When they finally get there, he doesn't even have to knock – Scott is already opening the door, with an inquisitive look on his face.
"It didn't feel safe there" Danny explains, and Jackson is grateful. He sucks at lying, and he'd die before he said that he couldn't sleep before because he didn't have Stiles with him.
It's pathetic and sad and all kinds of wrong.
It's also the truth.
Scott shrugs and lets them in, talking quietly.
"The Sheriff left about half an hour ago. He was supposed to be in the night shift, anyway, so it's just us. Derek called a while ago, letting us know they didn't find Erica yet, and they were done looking for the night. He said we should get some sleep" he explains, pointing to where Isaac is lying down on the couch, a few pillows and blankets around him.
"Where's Stiles?" Jackson asks, even if he can hear his mate's heartbeat, fast but steady, coming from his own bedroom.
"Upstairs. He offered us a bed, but I thought it better to leave him alone for a bit. Plus, Isaac pointed out you'd freak out if his room smelled like us, so" Scott doesn't say anything else, and smiles a little at the end of it, but Jackson doesn't answer to the teasing or say anything.
He looks at Danny, and his best friend sighs and finds an unoccupied couch, stealing a blanket and a pillow from Isaac, settling in for the night.
Jackson turns their back on them, and goes to Stiles room. He can practically feel Scott wishing to stop him, but then Lahey calls him, and Scott gives up.
He takes in a deep breath, and opens the door to his mate's room noiselessly.
Stiles is sprawled on the bed, taking up as much space as possible. His head is turned to the side, one of his hands curled up on the pillow, the other stretched on his side. His legs are under a blanket, and he's breathing rhythmically and deeply. Truly asleep.
Jackson gets in and closes the door, breathing in deeply – the whole room smells like Stiles, and Stiles alone.
His mate.
His… companion for his whole lifetime, his very own destined true love, like some corny fairytale movie, in which he has no say. The idea doesn't cause him as much rebellion as it had before – before five days without seeing him or smelling his scent. It doesn't seem quite true yet, as if he's just waiting for something to happen and change it all, for someone to figure out they went wrong, and this is not how it's supposed to happen.
For something to go very right, or very wrong, and for them to be free of each other again.
The truth is that for all that he gripes and threatens and complains about Stiles not accepting them, he hasn't either.
Hadn't, at least.
He takes a few steps in, and sits on the floor, his head in level with Stiles's, just watching. Watching his mate, the boy who's human and yet is part of a wolf pack, who could be a werewolf but chose not to, someone who could have had him killed, but didn't just because he wants to try and save everyone before he has to give up on them.
Someone who kidnapped him and stole a Police vehicle just so Jackson wouldn't harm anyone, and wouldn't be killed by Derek.
Stiles had so much more to lose than he did. He was so right about so many things he had said that afternoon about Jackson, so completely spot on that hurt. Because when someone hates you for who you pretend to be, for a persona, an image, a fake façade you put up in school and in the team, that is one thing.
But when your mate despises you for everything you really are? That is the kind of thing that makes you think.
Stiles is his. He's willing to try – and Jackson is not stupid, this willingness won't last forever. He has to get his act together, and soon. The fact that they may be dead in a few days, as bad as it is, is actually his chance to show Stiles he can be better. He can change. He can deal with things, and maybe he can learn to accept that he will not have control over everything, always. That he is loved by his parents, that he doesn't have to be the best in every single thing to deserve to be loved.
Hell, Stiles is not better than anyone at anything as far as he knows, and everyone cares about him. His dad, Scott, Derek, Peter, Isaac – even Danny. Damn, even Lydia! And he didn't have to try and beat other people up, he didn't have to be a jerk, he didn't have to show everyone up.
He was just… himself – and that is the ridiculousness of it all: for all that Jackson is great and awesome and damn well near perfect, being himself is something he doesn't even know how to be.
He never let things just be, he always chose to be what would impress people the most – his dead parents, his adoptive parents, his teachers, his teammates, his girlfriend. He actually thought he could do the same for Stiles, win him over with the same MO, but after everything was said and done this afternoon, just now he's getting what Stiles was trying to say: to get him, to actually have a chance with his mate, all he has to do is be.
Himself. Nothing else.
And it's the most difficult thing Jackson has ever faced, because if he didn't know who he was before, now he actually thinks that he doesn't want to find out.
God, he's such a mess.
He doesn't realize that Stiles's eyes are actually staring at him until the boy sighs deeply, and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "creep".
"I didn't mean to wake you up" he says as an excuse, and Stiles sighs again, moving around the bed so he can look at Jackson properly, without having to sit.
"It's okay. I thought you were at Danny's" he says, his eyes almost closed again, his voice rough and quiet with sleep.
"I couldn't sleep. He's downstairs with McCall and Lahey."
"Good. You didn't leave him alone, that's good."
Stiles doesn't say anything else, and Jackson tries not to make any noise. He really doesn't want to fight or create another problem between them – he just wants to… hear Stiles's heartbeat for a while. Listen to him breathing. See him asleep and calm. He just… needs this for a bit. Just a bit.
Suddenly Stiles's eyes are open again.
"You plan on looking at me from the floor all night?" his voice is a bit annoyed, and Jackson doesn't even know how to answer to that, because, honestly, what would be a good answer to that?
Stiles sighs again, and scoots over to one side of the bed, as opposed to being sprawled like before.
"Come on" he says, and Jackson is a bit dubious – his whole stunt with staying on Stiles all night coming to his mind.
He doesn't want a repeat of that.
"I can't sleep with you looking at me all night, Jackson, and you should sleep too. Keep to your side of the bed, and you are on top of the covers. If I catch you snuggling up to me I'll yell for my dad, and he'll shoot you. I swear he will" his eyes are already closing when he finishes speaking, and Jackson smiles a bit, not pointing out the Sheriff isn't even home, but he gets it.
Quietly, he gets into the bed, staying on top of the blanket, a small empty space between him and Stiles. He settles down a bit, and listens for Stiles breathing, his heartbeat evening out until he's sure the boy is asleep.
He looks at him, pale and thin, fragile and so very, very human, and something inside him aches to make things better somehow. He feels as if he's failing at everything with him, and this is killing him.
Very slowly, he reaches out one of his hands and puts it over one of Stiles's. The other boy doesn't stir or complain, so Jackson counts that as a win.
And then finally, finally, he feels safe enough to sleep.
X
They wake up to a loud bang of a door being shut, and a loud curse – actually, multiple loud curses. Jackson's fangs are half out, and his eyes are glowing blue as he scans the room for threats, and Stiles shakes his head, getting out of the bed and going downstairs, feeling Jackson following him.
When he gets to the living room, he finds Isaac and Scott glaring at a pale Derek, who's is just a few steps away from the door he obviously closed. Danny is staring wide eyed at the Alpha, and Peter is nowhere to be found.
"What's going on?" Stiles asks, still a bit fuzzy with sleep, but Derek's quiet and raging stance is weird enough that he can't stand not asking.
"Erica was found" Derek replies, his eyes flashing red, and he manages to look miserable and enraged, all at once, "Her body was found, wounds just like Boyd's."
"Where?" Isaac asks in a whisper, and Derek looks down, shaking his head.
"The Alphas aren't just sending us a message about the pack. They were sensing us a guideline. Something they want us to do" Peter finally says, coming, strangely enough, from the kitchen, "They are showing us the problems, they are pointing us to the way to correct our pack, and live."
"What the hell do you mean?" Stiles asks angrily, because he thinks he's actually getting this, and he doesn't like where this is going one bit.
"They left a message at the house this morning, before dawn. They are pointing our mistakes, and telling us to correct them" Peter explains.
"What do you mean correct?" Scott asks, looking scared.
"I don't mean anything. What they mean is kill. We kill our problems, they let the rest of us in peace."
Stiles doesn't have to be a werewolf to feel Jackson's heart skipping a bit at this.
He's not the only one getting this.
"So what? They killed Boyd and Erica, isn't that it?" Scott insists, and Peter shakes his head. Derek looks lost, and doesn't even raise his head as his uncle talks.
"No. They left us the bodies at the places the ones they want us to eliminate live" he looks at Jackson, and Stiles suddenly feels a bit protective. He doesn't like Jackson yet, but he doesn't deserve to die.
"Where did they leave Erica's body?" Danny asks, looking terrified.
"Lydia Martin's house" Derek says in a growl.
"The Kanima and the Immune who made it happen. We kill them? We're golden" Peter says with a smirk.
They are screwed, is all Stiles can think.
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