[Teen Wolf] Gen | Spitting Gravel
Title: Spitting Gravel
Summary: For etacanis, who chose Teen Wolf and the prompt: "Sometimes good guys gotta do bad things to make the bad guys pay." Demon!Stiles, zombie Sirens, and a universe that I do not know what to do with eep.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: female!Stiles, female!Derek, Scott, ensemble
Genre: AU, light horror
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1190
Author's Notes: For the 30 days writing challenge. Prompt #25: Dennis Hinrichsen's poem Baptism. DO NOT ASK ME HOW I GOT THIS FROM THAT.
I've wanted to do female!Sterek ever since this flawless piece of fanart came up on my dash (by girladventurer at tumblr), but I went dark-ish instead of fluffy and cute. I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON IDEK. Also first demon!fic ever. Hello new territory. Look what TW has made me do.
They said it was wrong, but it doesn't stop Stiles from breaking the rules-do rules still apply to you when you know that they're blatantly wrong and have a ton of loopholes? Stiles doesn't think they do, so technically, she's not breaking any rules, and if she is, it's not like it's law or anything, just a code that is hidden half-dark in a community that largely ignores the monthly goings-on. Seriously, Beacon Hills? Not very clued-in on recent events even if perpetrators of said events are right there in front of people. But not the point; Stiles is going slightly off tangent again, but her words still stand.
Stiles considers the terms and conditions that definitely apply to what she's going to attempt to do. Attempt is not a good word. Attempt means there's a possibility of failure. Stiles has attempted a whole lot of things in her sixteen years of existence, she's only had a few successes, and this is going to count as one of them damn it, or bad things will happen. Not like bad things haven't happened already, because, Jesus, it's like they're a magnet for trouble-well, they would be; they're a band of werewolves and wolf-friendly humans after all. Hunters, rogue faeries, were-lizards, resurrected psychopaths, an actual plague of zombie Sirens; what else does the sad world have in store for them, hm?-but it means that bad things will happen to Stiles and therefore not help the situation with Dee, and-
She takes a deep breath.
The book's still lying on her bed, yellowed pages flickering in the wind.
God, this could not be more like a horror movie if it tried.
*
"You smell weird," Scott says, when Stiles-and not-Stiles, but they don't need to know that yet-climbs out of her jeep. He sniffs at her, but yelps when she swats at him to move away.
"I smell fine," she snarks back, "not like wet dog, unlike you. Also, not the time to get all wolfy on me, and I've told you that invasion of privacy is not cool many times before, dude, so back off, and where's Allison and Lydia, and tell me that the zombies haven't started chewing on Erica's legs."
"Dude, I was trying to get Dee from the weird mermaidy things. Not my fault the lake's all dirty. Allison and Lydia are with Jackson; they're coming in like five minutes. And the mermaids-zombie undead Sirens, okay-are just sort of playing a sick game of catch with them. I don't think Isaac can stay afloat any longer though. He looks tired." He darts and smells her hair again, too fast for Stiles to bat away. And no shit, the three werewolves have been treading water and trying to escape from the creatures for hours. Even werewolves have limits. Especially since playing catch involves sneaking a nibble here and there on their flesh. "You smell like burning."
Not-Stiles wants to hurt Scott. He knows too much. Maybe. Stiles tells it that Scott isn't the brightest of beings, and hopes, even though hope is not in the demon's vocabulary, because it just growls and tells her that she will pay. Not for the first time since leaving her house, Stiles wonders if she's made a big mistake.
The demon says probably, and laughs.
"Dude," Scott pipes up again, looking worried. "Are you okay?"
Stiles shakes her head and grits her teeth. "I'm fine."
*
It takes the jeep, Dee's Camaro, and five of Allison's arrows for them to rescue the trio. The Sirens love Scott too much, which turns out to be a bonus because Allison is a fierce bitch who does not like to be messed with. Jackson manages to calm his boner-the cold water helped-enough to grab Erica and Isaac by the scruff of their necks and bring them to shore, Lydia providing huge slaps to their faces that even not-Stiles balks at.
Dee fights, snarling at the Sirens when they refuse to let her go, even though two of them are critically wounded-hello flaming arrows-but then Stiles swims over, favorite red hoodie be damned, and not-Stiles does its work and glares at them, and they let Dee go in fear, like they did with the two Betas.
Not-Stiles turns back to face Dee, and Stiles is going no no no, but not-Stiles is grinning at Dee with eyes that are totally black, and Stiles goes unheard in her own head.
*
"You did what?" Dee slams her into the wall, and seriously, not helping Stiles win any points for Dee in her negotiations with the demon to not hurt the pack. "Stiles, do you know how stupid that is? What does it want?"
Stiles shivers in her wet clothes, trying to fight off the cold, Dee, and the demon all at once. She needs to catch a fucking break, but can't because if she lets go, not-Stiles will take over and it's too soon, even though the demon is lashing out with memories of Stiles's mom in a tantrum. "It wants the Argents," she stammers out. "Wants blood and death, and I don't know why exactly-I only had like fifteen minutes to cut a deal with it, and you were dying out there with chunks of your arm missing, and Scott was freaking out until I told him I had found something at the library that actually works against freaking undead mermaids, and I know it's not the smartest thing-"
But she's not talking anymore. She's shoved to the back of her own mind, wearing soaked skin and a thoroughly drenched hoodie and a shocked look, because it's taken over in a fit of rage.
"Hello, Hale," not-Stiles purrs, and Stiles doesn't know her voice anymore. Dee backs away, and Stiles is screaming no, because especially not Dee, even though it's selfish-"Your girlfriend never shuts up, don't you know that? She's right here, saying no as if I would listen. I've waited a long time for this." Stiles sees her hand caress Dee's ashen cheek, and she never wants to see Dee flinch from her again. "She doesn't want me to hurt you. Silly child, as if I would care for such base animals like you and your pack." Stiles feels the curl of a smirk, sees fear in Dee's eyes, and chokes. "In fact, we should work together. Just so that I know where you are all the time. Wouldn't want you to play the martyr and save those poor humans who would love to hunt you down in a heartbeat. Besides," not-Stiles breathes into Dee's ear, "I'm thinking that you won't want to see what I'd do to Stiles if you did try to save their little lives. Pain is all in the mind, Hale. One slip, a broken bone, a slippery knife, oops."
"You won't hurt her," Dee manages to say, nearly wolfing out, Stiles can see, even though she's not quite done healing yet.
"Not too badly." The demon cackles out of Stiles's mouth, and walks away, purposely staying the few seconds to show Stiles Dee's crumpled face.
Summary: For etacanis, who chose Teen Wolf and the prompt: "Sometimes good guys gotta do bad things to make the bad guys pay." Demon!Stiles, zombie Sirens, and a universe that I do not know what to do with eep.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairings: female!Stiles, female!Derek, Scott, ensemble
Genre: AU, light horror
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1190
Author's Notes: For the 30 days writing challenge. Prompt #25: Dennis Hinrichsen's poem Baptism. DO NOT ASK ME HOW I GOT THIS FROM THAT.
I've wanted to do female!Sterek ever since this flawless piece of fanart came up on my dash (by girladventurer at tumblr), but I went dark-ish instead of fluffy and cute. I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON IDEK. Also first demon!fic ever. Hello new territory. Look what TW has made me do.
They said it was wrong, but it doesn't stop Stiles from breaking the rules-do rules still apply to you when you know that they're blatantly wrong and have a ton of loopholes? Stiles doesn't think they do, so technically, she's not breaking any rules, and if she is, it's not like it's law or anything, just a code that is hidden half-dark in a community that largely ignores the monthly goings-on. Seriously, Beacon Hills? Not very clued-in on recent events even if perpetrators of said events are right there in front of people. But not the point; Stiles is going slightly off tangent again, but her words still stand.
Stiles considers the terms and conditions that definitely apply to what she's going to attempt to do. Attempt is not a good word. Attempt means there's a possibility of failure. Stiles has attempted a whole lot of things in her sixteen years of existence, she's only had a few successes, and this is going to count as one of them damn it, or bad things will happen. Not like bad things haven't happened already, because, Jesus, it's like they're a magnet for trouble-well, they would be; they're a band of werewolves and wolf-friendly humans after all. Hunters, rogue faeries, were-lizards, resurrected psychopaths, an actual plague of zombie Sirens; what else does the sad world have in store for them, hm?-but it means that bad things will happen to Stiles and therefore not help the situation with Dee, and-
She takes a deep breath.
The book's still lying on her bed, yellowed pages flickering in the wind.
God, this could not be more like a horror movie if it tried.
*
"You smell weird," Scott says, when Stiles-and not-Stiles, but they don't need to know that yet-climbs out of her jeep. He sniffs at her, but yelps when she swats at him to move away.
"I smell fine," she snarks back, "not like wet dog, unlike you. Also, not the time to get all wolfy on me, and I've told you that invasion of privacy is not cool many times before, dude, so back off, and where's Allison and Lydia, and tell me that the zombies haven't started chewing on Erica's legs."
"Dude, I was trying to get Dee from the weird mermaidy things. Not my fault the lake's all dirty. Allison and Lydia are with Jackson; they're coming in like five minutes. And the mermaids-zombie undead Sirens, okay-are just sort of playing a sick game of catch with them. I don't think Isaac can stay afloat any longer though. He looks tired." He darts and smells her hair again, too fast for Stiles to bat away. And no shit, the three werewolves have been treading water and trying to escape from the creatures for hours. Even werewolves have limits. Especially since playing catch involves sneaking a nibble here and there on their flesh. "You smell like burning."
Not-Stiles wants to hurt Scott. He knows too much. Maybe. Stiles tells it that Scott isn't the brightest of beings, and hopes, even though hope is not in the demon's vocabulary, because it just growls and tells her that she will pay. Not for the first time since leaving her house, Stiles wonders if she's made a big mistake.
The demon says probably, and laughs.
"Dude," Scott pipes up again, looking worried. "Are you okay?"
Stiles shakes her head and grits her teeth. "I'm fine."
*
It takes the jeep, Dee's Camaro, and five of Allison's arrows for them to rescue the trio. The Sirens love Scott too much, which turns out to be a bonus because Allison is a fierce bitch who does not like to be messed with. Jackson manages to calm his boner-the cold water helped-enough to grab Erica and Isaac by the scruff of their necks and bring them to shore, Lydia providing huge slaps to their faces that even not-Stiles balks at.
Dee fights, snarling at the Sirens when they refuse to let her go, even though two of them are critically wounded-hello flaming arrows-but then Stiles swims over, favorite red hoodie be damned, and not-Stiles does its work and glares at them, and they let Dee go in fear, like they did with the two Betas.
Not-Stiles turns back to face Dee, and Stiles is going no no no, but not-Stiles is grinning at Dee with eyes that are totally black, and Stiles goes unheard in her own head.
*
"You did what?" Dee slams her into the wall, and seriously, not helping Stiles win any points for Dee in her negotiations with the demon to not hurt the pack. "Stiles, do you know how stupid that is? What does it want?"
Stiles shivers in her wet clothes, trying to fight off the cold, Dee, and the demon all at once. She needs to catch a fucking break, but can't because if she lets go, not-Stiles will take over and it's too soon, even though the demon is lashing out with memories of Stiles's mom in a tantrum. "It wants the Argents," she stammers out. "Wants blood and death, and I don't know why exactly-I only had like fifteen minutes to cut a deal with it, and you were dying out there with chunks of your arm missing, and Scott was freaking out until I told him I had found something at the library that actually works against freaking undead mermaids, and I know it's not the smartest thing-"
But she's not talking anymore. She's shoved to the back of her own mind, wearing soaked skin and a thoroughly drenched hoodie and a shocked look, because it's taken over in a fit of rage.
"Hello, Hale," not-Stiles purrs, and Stiles doesn't know her voice anymore. Dee backs away, and Stiles is screaming no, because especially not Dee, even though it's selfish-"Your girlfriend never shuts up, don't you know that? She's right here, saying no as if I would listen. I've waited a long time for this." Stiles sees her hand caress Dee's ashen cheek, and she never wants to see Dee flinch from her again. "She doesn't want me to hurt you. Silly child, as if I would care for such base animals like you and your pack." Stiles feels the curl of a smirk, sees fear in Dee's eyes, and chokes. "In fact, we should work together. Just so that I know where you are all the time. Wouldn't want you to play the martyr and save those poor humans who would love to hunt you down in a heartbeat. Besides," not-Stiles breathes into Dee's ear, "I'm thinking that you won't want to see what I'd do to Stiles if you did try to save their little lives. Pain is all in the mind, Hale. One slip, a broken bone, a slippery knife, oops."
"You won't hurt her," Dee manages to say, nearly wolfing out, Stiles can see, even though she's not quite done healing yet.
"Not too badly." The demon cackles out of Stiles's mouth, and walks away, purposely staying the few seconds to show Stiles Dee's crumpled face.