Disclaimer: as previously seen.
When I barely managed to get to school the next day, due to the somewhat crappy decision of my Jeep to get some sort of cold and cough and sputter its way to the school building like it was dying, Allison was waiting for me. She was anxious, shifting from foot to foot and popping up and down to see over the cars; the moment she spotted my jeep, she'd waved frantically before stopping herself, glancing left and right as if someone were watching her. It was both adorable and highly suspicious. Running at this point would probably be the wrong thing to do, but I still wished I could. Whatever this conversation turned out to be, it probably wouldn't be anything approaching fun.
"Allison," I waved cheerily as I exited my car and strolled in her direction, "Come here often?"
"Funny, Stiles," she replied, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away from the school, "Come with me."
"You know," I continued trying to lighten the mood despite the way her fingers dug into my arm as she dragged me onward, "You said the word funny, but you're not acting like you thought it was very funny, at all." She tried and failed to smile, finally bringing us to a halt in the back of the school, nearby the bush where Scott had kissed me for the first time.
I shifted uneasily.
"I- You're my friend, right?" She started, staring me unwaveringly in the eyes even as her tone wavered and wobbled, "I mean, you... You do like me, don't you? Like," she had her hands up defensively already, "As a person, not like you want to date me."
"Yeah, of course I like you," I replied, trying very hard not to avert my gaze, that's what makes all of this so damn hard. Why couldn't Scott have gone out with some dastardly, evil woman that only wanted to bring pain to the world before his little revelation about me? Or better yet, why couldn't either of us have realized our feelings weren't exactly platonic sooner than this? The blame rested equally on our shoulders, no matter how my mind strove to rationalize it. Except that it wasn't; my mind was blaring the lyrics to Before He Cheats with a vaguely accusatory tone. Shut up. She had two dates with him, I reminded the damn bully pretending to be a conscience. Nyah, nyah, can't make me, it replied with a mental tongue waggle.
"The truth is," Allison was saying, apparently not having noticed my lapse in attention, "I think... And forgive me if I'm guessing wrong, 'cause it's just a guess, but... Did Scott leave me for... For someone you introduced to him?"
I wasn't sure if my heart began to beat again or not. My eyes were wide and I tried, really tried, to get myself under control, but there was honestly no answer I could think of that would fly here. Come on, Stiles; think, dammit. "I- Uh- Why do you think that?" Oh, real smooth. Brilliant. Not even a preschooler would think that sort of answer wasn't suspicious. It was looking more and more like I was trapped. And actually... No matter how much I wanted to remain uninjured, I still... Wanted to tell her the truth. It was getting difficult to lie when every bit of me screamed that she was a friend, and the one thing I didn't do to friends was lie to their face. I'd gotten away with half-truths and omissions, but I didn't think I could just go on like this anymore. "It is my fault," I blurted, interrupting whatever she was going to answer my stalling question with.
"Stiles, you couldn't-" She paused, took in the way my head hung down, more than necessary to look her in the eyes, and I could see the way some rusty gears clicked a step forward in her head, "What do you mean?"
"He left you," I took a deep breath, feeling almost dizzy, and tried again, "He left you because of me." Shaking my head at my own cowardice, I clarified, "He left you for me."
The gears clicked again, and Allison's hands came up to cover her mouth for a moment, her bright chocolate eyes searching mine, before her hands suddenly clasped mine and she whispered, "You... You had feelings for me?" A flash of something red moved in my periphery, but I paid it no attention.
"What?" Probably insensitive, judging by the way she dropped my hands, backing up a step, but honestly, I felt a little sideswiped. That had come out of left field, dropped out of the sky, hit me like Jackson's guarding; in short, I had not seen that coming. "I mean- well, I care about you, but no, I didn't- I don't- Oh god," I covered my face with my hands, both of us embarrassed now, and not wanting to see one another. "I'm sorry," I finished, muffled only slightly by my palms. She must have interpreted Scott leaving "for" me as Scott breaking up with her as some sort of favor for me.
Allison had gotten over embarrassment at her false assumption and the gears were clicking forward at rapid pace, "If Scott didn't leave me to spare your feelings... Since you don't have feelings for me that way..." She glanced at me, I could see through my fingers as a frown made her way pensively over her features.
"Feel free to hit me when you figure it out." I still had my face covered though, and I really hoped she didn't go for a, uh, lower target.
"Stiles!" Her mouth had opened in an angry o and a finger poked my chest accusingly, "You stole my boyfriend!"
My hands came down now, placatingly, despite my intention not to offer excuses, "I didn't know I was doing it!"
She pushed at my shoulders, and I stumbled back more because I let her than because of the strength behind the blow. Allison's hair was frizzy around her face and her eyes flashed incredulously. "How do you accidentally steal someone's boyfriend?"
"Well, I teased him about his kissing skills until he decided to prove it and then he started freaking out about how he felt and so did I, but I was better at hiding it and-" And the whole sordid story came pouring out, excluding any werewolf-y bits, while Allison waited, arms crossed over her chest, but obviously listening.
When my stream of consciousness came to a natural end with this confrontation (I'd brought up all the different times I'd almost told her, as well), she huffed, "I am still pissed off at you. You two should have told me something! If I'd known Scott had just realized he was gay, I wouldn't have tried to keep going out with him!" Huh. I hadn't quite thought of it that way. Which must have shown on my face, since Allison scoffed and rolled expressive brown eyes. "Men." While the word, muttered like a curse, didn't quite make sense to me in context, I gave a chagrined shrug anyway.
Her eyes lit like something had occurred to her, "You really are my funny gay friend!"
A little hopefully, but still warily, I ventured, "Do you still want me as a friend?"
"I-" Her mouth shut, and Allison gave it some serious thought, "I haven't forgiven you. And I might not for a while. But I do think... I do think you'd be a good friend as long as I don't accidentally date anyone else who's in love with you."
I almost shook my head, denying her claim immediately, Scott isn't in love with me, but this wasn't about that. Instead, I replied, "Scott's enough of a handful as it is; I don't think I could handle the stress."
She gave me a reluctant giggle, and then sobered, "You know, there is something you could do to get back in my good books." Allison fixed me with a look that held a gravity all its own, "I need some help researching my family's past."
...Craaaap.
Scott would be quite unhappy both at losing my time after school that day as well as what he was losing that time to. Or I assumed so, since he was not even present at school that day. On top of worrying about the apparently murderous alpha, Hale's hiding, the Argents' hunting, Allison figuring out werewolves, and Jackson's weirdness, now I couldn't even stress over it with Scott and had another worry to wring my hands over. Where the hell was he? My poor knuckles were bitten nearly clear through to the bone with the amount of time I spent gnawing on them anxiously. Scott hadn't shown up for any of the classes we had together nor for lacrosse practice after school, and the moment I realized he wasn't going to show up in the locker room, I'd abandoned my gear in the locker and skipped practice. I texted Allison, told her I'd be at her house "after practice ended" (didn't mean I'd actually attend) and drove my Jeep through the forest to Hale's house, not caring who tied us together or what sort of danger I could put myself in. I'd left probably a crazy-boyfriend amount of texts on Scott's phone and called five times, so I figured my panic was justifiable.
Hale smelled and heard me coming, already on the front porch by the time I slammed my door and stalked towards him. It had been a long shot to find him there, but under the fear I was glad he was. "Do you know where Scott is?" I demanded, ignoring the way Hale's eyes had been flashing bright blue with annoyance as I approached. He faltered at my question, though, some of the defensiveness in his gesture unraveling as his arms uncrossed.
"Scott's missing?"
"All day," I confirmed, "I saw him late last night, and he didn't seem to be 'saying goodbye' or anything. So, I assumed anything that made him disappear was a wolf thing against his control, and I haven't called his mom 'cause I didn't want to worry her but I was really, really hoping you'd taken him in for training." Maybe I babbled a little.
Hale's head turned sharply away and he spat out, "Shit." He moved forward, and then back, and looked at me uncertainly, "All day?"
"Yeah."
"I can probably still find him, if you've got something with his scent," Hale hedged, and I grabbed his arm, not flinching back at the instinctual growl he let out at the surprise.
"Come on," I urged, pulling him towards my jeep, "I've got, like, fifty things in my car that'll still smell like him."
Hale had ordered me to drive him back towards the school, head sticking out the window like a dog, and then to Scott's house, outside which he finally picked up the scent. Allison texted me something, but I ignored it under the pretense of still being "in practice." Or because I was worried sick because Scott was missing. Did I mention Scott was missing? In the goddamn midst of Hunters and Alphas and maybe even freaking pixies, for all I knew.
At least Hale had his scent. I was honestly surprised that Hale could track the scent by air like that; all the hounds my dad's Kennel Men (our town's term for policemen that worked with the dogs) used had their noses to the ground when they were really tracking, only catching the scent in the air. Not that Hale would ever learn from my lips that I'd been impressed, and at the time, all I really cared about was that it helped us find Scott faster.
We seemed to be moving towards the veterinary where Scott worked, but I couldn't think of any reason why he would be there. I was driving as quickly as I could without Hale's losing Scott's trail, though, and it was only when we turned into the vet's parking lot that I really realized he was there.
"It's strong here," Hale told me, hopping out of the car and loping up to the front door, "My pack used to come here for medical help, sometimes."
That explained our last visit here with the wolfsbane-infused bullet, I supposed. If Scott was sitting in there completely fine, having fallen asleep during some early morning inventory or something, I would be entirely thrilled and completely furious.
"It smells a little like blood," Hale admitted in a growl, already half into the building, but at the word 'blood' I was past him, barging into the backroom without a by-your-say, ignoring Hale's shocked expression and hyper-focusing.
"Scott!" I called, and the usually genial veterinarian, Dr. Deaton stepped soundlessly from behind a shelf, putting a calm hand on my arm and catching my gaze like a trap.
"He's going to be fine," he told me first, and then his fingers were gripping rather than passive, and he pulled me slightly closer, looking at my eyes calculatingly. "What's this?" He murmured.
"Where's Scott?" I repeated, feeling a little creeped out by the scrutiny and still antsy about Scott's welfare.
"Doctor," Hale nodded, showing a wariness I felt the situation didn't warrant, but how would I know? Maybe the vet smelled funny.
"He's in the other room," Dr. Deaton finally answered me, releasing my gaze and moving into the surgery room we'd almost lost Hale in.
Scott was lying on the metal operating table with a bored expression, four arrows sticking out of his torso and arm. There was a tourniquet above the arrow in his arm, and it was a different color, the feathers a foreboding black. His nose twitched in a sniff, and he tried to shoot up into a sitting position, "Stiles-" but he cringed at the feel of it and lay back down, raising one hand in my direction instead. I was there before he finished the movement, clutching his hand between mine so tightly that he actually winced again.
"Sorry," I loosened my grip, but one look at his wounds had me letting go entirely, "Scott, your skin will grow around the arrows if I keep touching you before they're out." He let out an entirely shameless whine, but I stepped away, shoving my hands in my pockets to further control my reactions, "I assume you've figured out Scott's uh, condition, if you're not panicking about this?"
"I do know a bit about it," Dr. Deaton smiled and Hale shifted suspiciously, "Unfortunately, the black-fledged arrow has some wolfsbane on the tip, so I've been putting together a slightly complex herbal remedy and keeping it from spreading with a tourniquet for now. He's lucky I found him."
"How did you find him?" Hale asked, and was ignored again.
"It looks like you two have some sort of synergy?" Deaton said, glancing over the distance between myself and Scott, "We might not need that mixture, after all."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, first, let's see if I'm right," Dr. Deaton tilted his head amiably, "Take Scott's hand again, will you?" I obeyed, not just for the experiment, but because I'd been dying to since I let go. The good vet calmly reached over and yanked an arrow out of Scott's abdomen. He twitched and his eyes flashed yellow, but the hole was gone practically as soon as the arrow was out. Not the usual methodology for removing arrowheads, but I supposed with Scott's rapid healing, tearing another hole on the way out wasn't quite a problem.
"Do you see that?" Dr. Deaton pointed, but at my arm rather than Scott's rapid healing, expedited by the contact between us. I looked down and a slight pulse of something dark had just faded into my arm.
"Did my blood just eat Scott's wound?"
Scott craned his neck to see, but gave up with a huff once it was obvious he couldn't move far enough without pain.
"A pack-member can take pain from someone else," Hale put in, edging closer to watch the weird phenomenon, "But that doesn't seem to be what you're doing."
"He's actually filtering the wolfsbane from the bloodstream and acting as a catalyst by allowing the plant's essence to be near Scott but not affect his, uh, inner beast, except to heal." Dr. Deaton ended diplomatically, with a little smile, "Ah, the wonders this world still contains."
"Um, I don't have to ask you not to tell anyone about this, right?" I hedged as Dr. Deaton yanked out another arrow and Scott's grip on my hand momentarily had claws.
He shook his head and took out the last arrow in Scott's torso with a quick, smooth motion, "I'm very discreet about the different patients I treat here. Although, I'm supposed to be retired." Scott let out a low groan as the skin and muscle knitted back together. "Alright, Scott," Deaton's hands hovered about the last arrow, the black-fledged one, "From what I've seen, this should work without the remedy, but I might give it to you on your shift tomorrow just to be sure." On this removal, Scott yelped, and the arrow was revealed to have a wickedly serrated arrowhead. Hale let out the growl I wished I could make. Dr. Deaton tsk'd, "People these days need to learn some common decency."
"If I'd known they were going after you, too, I'd have kept in closer contact," Hale growled, as if in apology and Scott just nodded, still breathing deeply and with a death grip on my hand that I returned with nearly equal desperation. He turned away and hit the wall, "Damn them!"
"Wait, 'you, too?'" I echoed, and maybe it was the bonding fear of losing Scott, but I was truly concerned when I asked, "Hale, did they do something to you?"
The elder male stiffened, and glanced at Dr. Deaton surreptitiously, but I caught the glance and cocked a brow. "I'm fine," he muttered.
Deaton chuckled in my general direction, "You're like a little denmother, aren't you?"
"Denfather, thank you," I corrected, not understanding the reference, but always willing to make a bad joke, and Scott let out a breathy laugh, pushing himself to a sitting position.
"It's a Boy Scout thing," he said, grinning when Dr. Deaton winked at him for catching the allusion.
"Well, I have a sick cat to see to," Deaton clapped his hands, "And I'm afraid I can't take her into a room with so many canines without agitating her, so I hope you can see yourselves out. Scott, I'll see you tomorrow." And he was gone; no explanation, no cryptic messages, no rationalization, not even a good excuse.
Well, maybe a sick cat was sort of a good excuse. I'd always been more of a dog person, myself.
"Are you feeling okay?" I asked Scott, one hand coming out to rest on his chest so he wouldn't even think about getting up. He'd just had four arrows in him and been poisoned. Granted, the majority of that poison appeared to have been sucked into my own veins, but apparently, my blood was fine with it.
He grabbed the hand on my chest dramatically and batted his eyes up at me, "Thanks to you, Stiles, my nerd in shining Jeep."
"You know," I began abruptly, realizing he was completely fine and moving on, "I texted you probably a thousand, four hundred and seventy two times today." He fixed me with a look that said clearly, so what? and maybe a little bit, did you really? "And you didn't answer a single one of them to let me know you were still alive and uncaptured and breathing and stuff."
"Your eloquence continues to surprise me," Hale grumbled, sitting in one of the two chairs along the walls of the room.
"I dropped my cellphone," Scott explained patiently, ignoring Hale's smart remark and the contorted face of gross-ness I sent Hale's direction, "When I was shot. Four times. From a crossbow."
I couldn't help it; it had half been a joke, but I still softened and sat beside him, "I'm sorry, I know. How did it happen?"
"Well, the crazy new lady Hunter noticed me from a distance and shot wildly into the forest," Scott whined, leaning towards me and wrapping his arms around my waist. Even Hale's twitchy look at the display of affection didn't stop him from sitting up a bit and nuzzling into my side. "And four shots landed."
My arms fell around him automatically, "Should we go get your cellphone before she does? Is that a problem?"
"Oh, shit," Scott hid his face in my waist, admitting a muffled, "I didn't even think of that."
"That's why you love me," I reminded him half-jokingly. Sometimes I wondered if he could even survive without me.
"Yep," He agreed, breathing in deeply with his nose still pressed into my shirt, "That and you just smell so good."
Hale cleared his throat, "Where did you get shot, Scott?"
That rhymed, my brain giggled, but outwardly I was all business as I pried Scott off my waist long enough to answer Hale's query and settle in for a little question-answer session I automatically tuned out, recognizing the building lecture tone from my father's twenty-question games. My phone made a little beep like a dying baby bird, crying out for attention and I realized I should probably check that text Allison had sent... I checked my watch, half an hour ago.
Apparently she'd texted more than just that once. The first read, When u get off practise, meet me library instead. Dad's being weird.
The second worried me, My aunt wants 2 come w. Is that OK?
But the third, Stiles, u got 2 get over here RIGHT NOW, leave practise and GET HERE. It's dangerous!
The third freaked me out.
Did she realize Scott was a werewolf? Was she trying to get me away from him? What was going on? Wait... My hands grew clammy around my cell phone- could she be the one in danger?
Hale had a finger up menacingly and Scott was in classic sulk position- arms crossed, back slumped, lips pressed together- but their pseudo-father-son time could continue without me. I stood abruptly from the bed, jamming my cell back into my pocket and pressed a hand briefly to Scott's cheek, "Gotta go, something important and Allison-related at the library."
I heard Hale stand behind me but he didn't seem inclined to chase at full speed, just tailing me and repeating my name like that would stop me. "Stiles," he growled again, clearly reaching the end of his patience, "You don't just walk away from your pa-" His eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back.
"Oh, watch me," I threw back distractedly, "It's not like I'm abandoning you all, but I have to go." Maybe not the smartest thing I could have said to Mister-Shocked-and-angry-werewolf-elder with full control of his powers, but the mental eep of dismay at his darkening features had to take a backseat as I bolted from the building and practically threw myself into my beat up Jeep.