chapter six ;
THEY WERE crazy. They had to be crazy, the entire family was insane and logically Stiles knew that. There was no way he was related to the original family, it just wasn't possible. There was no way his life was always destined to be connected to the supernatural. Scott getting turned, yeah okay it sucked, but that was just a shitty draw. But to be related literally through blood to the supernatural. No, that would just be cruel.
Plus why wouldn't his dad have told him? and his entire life people had told him how much he looked like his mother, where could have that come from? Were they all mocking him? Had everyone known but him and took it upon themselves to so cruelly joke with him?
No, this wasn't possible. He was the same boy he'd always been, awkward, human, weak. There was absolutely no way he was related to the original family, part of it. And he'd prove it.
Hope's parents had said there was a full moon tonight and he'd already planned out the night. First, he was going to confront his dad, see if he seemed at all suspicious and when he didn't and called Stiles insane for even asking if he was adopted or biologically his he'd go to bed early, or at least pretend to. Then he'd spend the night in the woods despite knowing what big bad hid out there.
Then boom the next day he'd head home and be comforted by the fact he never once turned all night. Plus, their logic was wrong. He needed to either be born or bitten to become a wolf and he wasn't a born wolf, he would've turned by now. He wasn't adopted. His dad would call him crazy, his dad would-yeah his dad. He was born a Stilinski, always been one. They didn't know what they were talking about, Stiles knew who he was. They were wrong and he was right.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧・゚゚・erase me. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧・゚゚・
"Hey Daddio" Stiles announced from his office door, a Diet Coke in one hand and a bag with a burger and fries in the other. He knew his dad would be suspicious of him actually letting him eat something this greasy but he needed his dad to be honest, and be in a good mood.
His dad eyed the contents in his hands, a brow raised in worry. "What did you do now?" he questioned jokingly. Wondering if his son was finally out of his funk, finally back to the land of the living. God he hoped he was.
Stiles held his hands up in surrender, before placing the food on his desk. "Why do you always assume I did something bad?"
"I'll stop assuming you did something bad when you don't do something bad" Noah quipped.
Stiles let out a sigh and then collapsed into one of the chairs, letting his limbs flail out to anywhere. "I have a question," he admitted, "And it's a weird one, but funny, okay? Okay so I was thinking and I know that's never good but I saw some dna thing online and all these stories online and I know I'm chronically online and it's bad but really our generations the first with this much access to knowledge so we don't really know if it's bad but everyone just assumes so. Actually I think it's good we're aware y'know? we can figure out things faster then-"
"The point?" Noah asked, unwrapped burger in his hand and a growing headache from his son's rambling.
Stiles gulped, it was now or never. Preferably never but he really just needed to get it out. "Am I adopted?" he tested out on a shaky breath. He couldn't look at him.
Noah dropped the burger onto the table, all but glaring at him. He leaned forward a little, which shouldn't have felt so intimidating but it did. "Adopted? Adopted? Where did this come from?"
Stiles flung his head back to avoid looking at him and focused on the ceiling. "Just answer the question dad. Am I adopted?" he tried again, this time sounded a little more put together. For some reason his dad not just straight out answering the question made it feel worse. Why couldn't he just say no immediately?
Noah's eyes softened on his kid, how was he supposed to break the news like this? He had planned for the last seventeen years multiple ways he could do this and being forced to in his office was never one of them. He knew if Claudia were here right now she'd have known what to say, how to comfort him. But she wasn't here and he wasn't ready for this. The possibility of losing his son, or at least distinguish they weren't actually connected by blood. Not that he ever cared for that but how could he shatter his sons life?
"No. You're not adopted Stiles. Now where is this coming from?" He managed to respond, his mouth tasting sour.
Stiles wished he wasn't as relieved as he was. He knew the answer, but after having hours to question everything he'd began doubting himself. Oh right, his dad asked him a questions. His dad.
He smiled, a small short-lived smile and shrugged. "Just been seeing a lot of stuff on the internet and thought better safe than sorry right?" he replied with a forced laugh. "Okay, I'm gonna head home and go to bed, I've got practice early in the morning"
And a date with the woods.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧・゚゚・ erase me. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧・゚゚・
Now that part one of Stiles' plan was finished it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He wasn't adopted, those crazy people were not his family. He knew all along he was right but hearing it out loud and from someone else just solidified it.
Most people would've just called it a night and been satisfied with the outcome but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight just from the possibility of him turning. There was no proof to even back up that he would be turning, but once he got in his head about something there was no convincing otherwise.
So now he hiked through the preserve, making sure to stay clear of the old Hale house despite it being vacant. He felt wrong going there, and if he'd somehow managed too bump into someone he wouldn't know how to explain him being out at night without sounding insane.
Stiles found a nice little spot a few miles away that was cleared out, except for a few big trees with trunks big enough he could comfortable lay against it and count down the hours he had left, because he would not be staying out here all night. If he managed to make it too one and nothing had happened then he had a date with his bed.
Part of him, the overthinking side, wondered what he would do if he actually turned. If he actually was a werewolf. This was a scenario he thought out a lot. Even before today. If he had accepted Peters bite, what would have happened? would his body have taken it? God he could wrestle his mind for hours with all the what ifs. But the one that always stuck was the accident. If he had been a werewolf, super strength, super speed yada yada, would the nogitsune have possessed him? and would he have been strong enough to resist if it had?
Some fog moved from the growing full moon above him, it seemed strangely cliche, like the beginning of a show. Now or never, this was it. All his cards were on the table, the truth was out there and was about to hit him in the face.
The moon slowly swelled full, the air felt thicker, heavier.
At first there was nothing, other than the chirping from grasshoppers and the rustling from animals. That was it he thought, there was his answer. Human. For some reason a part of him was let down, disappointed that he wasn't a werewolf despite what that would mean. He was content with it, forever being human, the weaker part of the pack, the underestimated one. At least he knew what he was destined for for the rest of his life.
He felt it before he realized it was happening. Could feel a certain change in the air around him, felt the world go quiet. He was sure he was imagining it, the tingling in his face, the pain in his mouth, the weird sensation on his hands. He was shaking, probably from the cold he rationalized. Definitely just the cold.
No, that was actual pain he was feeling, not just the kind in his head lately. Something-something was actually happening. Something was happening to him and he wasn't sure what. Or he was but he didn't want to accept it, because if he did, if this was actually happening right now than Hope and her family had been telling the truth and he was-no no this wasn't happening. The pain in his teeth, the cracking he could hear, that's not him, it can't be.
He let out a wince, trying his best to remain quiet even though there was no one around. This felt wrong, he felt wrong. He couldn't see what was happening but could feel as his hands snapped, arms breaking and bending over and over and over until he couldn't focus on the pain anymore. He needed to focus on something else, god why was everything in him breaking.
His legs twisted, letting out a sickening crunch before snapping, he was on his knees now, face in the ground as he screamed out in pain. He felt his back contorting between man, animal, and everything in between. Couldn't understand that the growling was coming from him.
They were right. They were right, he-he's a werewolf. He's a wolf, he's one of them. He's adopted, they-his dad isn't his dad, his dad lied to him, his mom was alive, he had a mom and a dad and a sister who were alive. They were telling the truth. He really is their son, he's a fucking werewolf.
He screamed out, begging someone, no-one to make it stop. He tugged at his hand with his hands, ignoring the way he felt something sharp scraping against his scalp. He needed this to stop. How did Scott shift every month without the excruciating pain? How had he stopped it?
Maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe he wasn't meant to turn and his body couldn't handle the change. What if this was it and his body gave out and he died right here right now in the forest all alone without nobody to find him for days? What if when they found him nothing was left besides what the animals left behind?
"Stop it!" he screamed, slapping himself in an attempt to stop the change, "Stop it, stop it, stop it" he repeated like a mantra, maybe if he said it fifty times it'd stop.
His eyes burned, it felt like someone had poured lava into them and no matter how many times he blinked to try and get rid of the feeling it only continued. He needed help, he should've believed them. He should've listened, god how many times does he have to mess up? when will he learn?
"You're okay, you're okay" he panted out in between sobs, he hated that he had to go through this alone but he hated that he did this to himself even more.
He was tired, maybe it was over, maybe that was it. He had turned, it was done. That was it. He could sleep now, wake up tomorrow and all of this will just be one big nightmare, a crazy story he'd made up in his head. Yeah, he could sleep, god the ground felt comfy.
It all went dark.
