Hi guys 3 thanks for the comments in the last chapter! I'm so happy to see people still sticking with this fic even through sparse updates XD I'd promise to do better but let's be honest, the "Slow Updates" tag (IN AO3 SORRY) is there for a reason lol.
Here's another chapter since I'm getting back into the rhythm of things. It's a bit short, but the next one might make up for it. Enjoy!
October 5th, 2009
Stiles has hit a dead end. Not literally, of course – he's not about to go punching walls unnecessarily – but in his research, which is probably more impressive when one takes into consideration the amount of reading material he has gone through in the past few hours since returning from school. With vampire and werewolf both out of the running, he'd had to stray from the cliches and decided that until proven otherwise, any mythical creature may as well be a real possibility, at least within reason. He's not about to consider a fairy or mermaid – he definitely didn't try to breathe underwater to rule that out and will forever deny it if asked – but anything else with enhanced senses, strength, and healing was on the table. Unfortunately for him, the table was looking pretty empty, especially when the condition for turning was a bite.
With no option other than to stop procrastinating on what he really should be thinking about, he stood from his computer chair and let his weight fall on top of the bedcovers with a defeated sigh.
Aunt Liz knows about vampires.
That could have been something nice to learn, it would mean he could talk to her about how to protect his friends and family, except for the fact that his friends include at least two vampires and-
Aunt Liz is working with a vampire hunter.
It's not as if Fell had asked questions first and shot later, no. From what Stefan had told him, the man had simply shot him on sight, probably trusting the watch-turned-vampire-seeking-compass to pick his target for him. It was deliberate and fucking scary to think about if he went over the facts for too long, and his aunt apparently not only knows about it but approves of it, of someone going around shooting people indiscriminately because a goddamn device told them to.
Aunt Liz can't know.
The facts are there, once he looks hard enough. She's feeding them vervain through the tea, her department was the one to rule the recent attacks as animal ones – clearly a cover-up but he can't blame them for not crying vampire at the sight of bloodless bodies – and is aware of the news guy's extracurricular hobbies, probably through the Founders Council. She's got her mind made up about it, and he's not looking to put his friends in danger by bringing up his own knowledge of the supernatural.
Or himself, because he's something, he just doesn't know what.
He has so far registered enhanced hearing and sight – the jury's still out on the sense of smell and taste so he should get around to testing that at some point – as well as increased strength and accelerated healing. His speed also isn't to be scoffed at, but it's still nowhere near a vampire's.
What would she do with that information? He's not in a rush to find out.
He loves his aunt, just like he loves his dad, but- as much as it pains him to admit it, he doesn't trust them, not with this. Not with himself.
He's been doing just fine on his own for years after all.
That thought is quickly dismissed with acquired practice as he rolls off the bed once again, too fidgety to keep still, and instead grabs his supernatural notepad. It's a problem, now that he knows his aunt knows, so he makes a point of ripping out every written page – he's long committed the facts to memory anyway – before ripping them up and shoving them into the half-empty water cup on the side of his desk for safe measure. He'll drain it and throw the goop into the garbage later.
Stiles also makes a point of grabbing Manuscrits Malveillants and Secreta Naturae, as well as the other book he'd bought at the Lynchburg store just in case, and shoves the three tomes under some folded clothes at the bottom of the wardrobe. Thankfully Bonnie had held on to Ne Brûle Pas with her grams' approval and his current supernatural-related book collection isn't extensive enough to require a bigger hiding spot yet. He doesn't know if his aunt is aware of magic as well as vampires, but there's no harm in being careful.
His search history is the next to go, though he opens a note on his phone to list the websites he'd bought from as well as some other interesting ones to look into more thoroughly later just in case he forgets their names. It's not that he anticipates his aunt wanting a look at the computer, but if she does happen to use it at any time, an empty search history is better than the alternative. Stiles would rather she think he's hiding porn than knowledge of the supernatural.
Huh, there's a phrase he'd never seen coming.
The glance at his search history does remind him of something else he'd been looking into, the 'animal attacks' happening back home. He hadn't really gotten anywhere with it, not with them being considered closed after the death of the mountain lion, but it still felt too convenient to believe, especially with his new knowledge of his aunt – the Sheriff – covering up vampire attacks as animal ones. Not that he thinks his dad may have covered something up since no one can argue a body torn in half wasn't an animal attack, and it clearly doesn't scream 'vampire' like drained bodies do, but whatever had bitten him was most definitely not natural.
What he needs is more details, extra information to draw conclusions from. He's got his phone in hand and calling his dad's number before he can think much about it.
"Stiles?" He hears from the other end of the line, only then realizing how much he'd missed his dad's voice. He wasn't always home, usually buried in work at the station, but Stiles had always made a point of visiting, bringing lunch or just keeping him and the deputies company while doing homework and definitely not peeking into their files. They'd never spent so long without talking before.
"Hey Dad, how are you?" Is all Stiles can think to ask on the spot, because opening with 'I missed you, please tell me about the murders' is bound to end terribly.
"I'm in the middle of something, son. Can this wait?" Right, of course, his dad is busy. Even though it's an hour past the time he should have left the station. He shouldn't have expected any different.
"Oh? Anything interesting?" He can't help but ask.
"Stiles," Dad repeats in a reproachful tone.
"Come on, I'm on the other side of the country, there's no way for me to get in trouble for knowing what's going on," Stiles insists.
"I wouldn't put it past you," his dad replies, but the following sigh tells him he's caving, "...actually, do you know an Isaac Lahey?"
"Uh…" it takes a moment to place the name, but it's there. "Tall kid, blue eyes, likes wearing scarves even during summer?" he asks rhetorically, already recalling a couple of interactions, "he was in the lacrosse team, didn't really talk much."
"Did he ever mention his father?" He has no idea where his dad is going with this line of questioning, but answers anyway.
"Not to me," he shrugs to himself, "it's not like we were friends. Why? Did something happen to him?" another animal attack, perhaps?
"His dad passed away," damn, poor kid. Still, how? Come on, Dad, details!
"Animal attack?" Stiles tries to bait since he technically shouldn't know about the mountain lion.
"How- never mind. No, those are thankfully over since Argent shot the culprit," He replies, "accidental, at least that's what it's looking like. The kid pushed him a little too hard near the stairs… can't say it wasn't deserved." There's an anger in Dad's voice he hasn't heard in a while, so he has no trouble believing it. "Still leaves an orphan in our hands, but we're handling it."
"Damn," that explains the overtime, "I'll leave you to it, then."
"Thanks for the call, son. Stay out of trouble," his dad warns before ending the call.
"Lo- kay then, bye," he mutters under his breath, scrolling through his other contacts.
That's one of his fonts of information exhausted for the time being. Time for the second one, he decides while pressing the call button again.
"Hey Stiles, hang on," is the first thing he hears when his friend picks up, followed by some shuffling and clicking as well as a couple of metallic noises, "sorry, closing up the clinic. What's up?"
"Not much," just interrogated a vampire hunter with the help of a vampire yesterday but no biggie, "just wondering how things are back home."
"Dude, Harris gave us so much homework it should be a crime," Scott immediately whines, falling into the pattern of regaling him with his most recent school days. It's refreshingly mundane.
He waits until his friend finishes a story about Jackson getting in trouble with the math teacher for passing notes before asking, "Actually, do you know anything else about what happened to Lydia? You know how I usually tell Mrs Lockwood how she's doing, right?"
"Oh, yeah, she must have been worried," Scott replies in realization, "Uh- not much, to be honest. She got bit or scratched or something at the video store attack and I guess some infection put her in a coma? My mom didn't say much," there's a small pause before he adds, "She did sleepwalk out of the hospital or something after waking up, but they caught her in the parking lot. Seems fine now though, I saw her in class today."
"Good to know," a lot more than he can say, even though he's now left wondering if what possibly bit Lydia could have been the same thing that bit him and what that might mean for her. Still, that's a worry for another time, "how's my dad been? I talked to him for a bit but he's pretty busy."
"Good, I think," he can hear his friend shrug, "he comes over for dinner sometimes when my mom doesn't have a night shift, might come more often now considering."
"Considering?" Stiles prompts, having no idea what he's supposed to be considering.
"Y'know, Lahey?" Scott sounds confused, and that makes two of them then. "He's staying late today to help them move his stuff."
"Scotty, buddy, I have no idea what you're talking about." He admits with a frown.
"Didn't you say you talked to your dad?" his friend questions in a similarly puzzled tone, "Lahey's staying with him until they figure out where to put him, I guess. With his dad dead and all."
"He didn't mention that," Stiles explains numbly, still processing that his dad has apparently decided to take in a whole kid now that he isn't there.
It's a dumb thing to be hung up about, Lahey has just had a traumatic experience and become an orphan, he's probably in state custody until they manage to contact any remaining relatives or arrange for a foster home to take him in. There's no real reason for the sudden twisting sensation in his gut.
"I guess he's got a lot on his mind?" Scott offered, "By the way, can I borrow your lacrosse stick? You're not using it, and mine's fraying a bit."
"...sure bro, go for it," leave it to Scott to drop that news and immediately change the subject as if nothing was amiss.
"Thanks! I'm gonna make my way to first line, you'll see," his friend promised enthusiastically, "Allison even came to watch the training the other day and…"
And now he's lost him to la-lallison-land.
There we go, some small Beacon Hills updates for those wondering what's going on over there. Nothing much, but there's a few hints of what's going on if you squint.
See ya next chapter!