Changes In Dynamics
Title: Changes in Dynamics
Author: eavis
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Word Count: 5787
Rating: K+
Characters: Stiles, Derek, Scott, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Dr. Deaton
Summary: Lydia demands the truth, assures Stiles she can handle the truth, and gets the truth. Boyd's sister falls prey to an acheri and the gang rides to the rescue.
Lydia wakes up within a day of the ‘flowers’ being delivered to her room by a sympathetic Melissa McCall and is back ruling school the day after that.
Allison and Scott disappear for an hour during Chem and appear at lunch holding hands, just as rainbow-vomit-inducingly cute as ever.
Scott, Allison, Boyd, Erica and Stiles sit at the same table during lunch, and thanks to a conversation with Allison (naturally it’s Allison that convinces him), Scott starts going to twice a week training sessions with Derek.
A week after Lydia wakes up, she corners Stiles in the library. “All right, Stilinski, squeal.”
“What am I squealing about? And this is not how I imagined our first interaction without impending bloody violence involved going.”
“I wake up and there is a weird bouquet in my room and when I asked my nurse - who happens to be your little pal Scott’s mom - she said it was from you.” She tilts her head. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Stilinski?”
“No,” Stiles says, because, well, he isn’t an idiot.
“Then would you care to tell me what you were doing putting a bouquet of flowers and herbs intended to ward off the supernatural in my room and how you expected me to not have questions. And then you can explain why I woke up seven hours after you sent it in. Either you are seriously delusional or you have some explaining to do - and that explanation should include the reason for Jackson’s new contacts and why they reflect light like a wolf’s.”
Stiles stats edging away. “What would I know anything about Jackson’s fashion choices? That’s more your department - at least it is if you guys are back together,” and if that last is a little bitter, well, he can’t find it in himself to take it back.
“Stiles.” For the first time, Lydia looks vulnerable. Alone. Stiles stops edging away. “Please. I know there’s something going on. Scott and Allison’s breakup and all that craziness at the Formal and that man that attacked me had fangs and claws and then today Jackson had claws and his eyes went all weird and I just need to know what. is going. on.”
Stiles looks at her, at the desperate tears hanging precariously from carefully made-up eyelashes, and her hands that are clenched tightly at her side, holding on to herself as though she is afraid if she let go she will break like an ice sculpture falling to a concrete floor, shattering into a thousand beautiful shards. And he says “Okay.” He takes told of her arm and guides her to one of the corner armchairs and sits in the one opposite. “This is all going to sound insane and it will probably take a long time so get comfortable and try not to freak out.”
He starts with his own stupidity in going into the woods at night - “ you’d think I’d never heard a fairy tale” - and goes from there, explaining Derek and Peter and leaving out as much about the Argents as he can. He ends with Jackson’s quest for the bite and, after what seems like an interminably long struggle with himself, tells Lydia why Jackson wanted the bite.
Lydia doesn’t look at Stiles once he finally winds to a close. “So is that why Scott and Allison broke up? She found out?”
“No. Well, yes. Her family - they’re hunters. They kill werewolves for a living. At least, that’s what the Argents do. I’m pretty sure there have got to be other hunters - if there are werewolves there’s got to be other things too and people to hunt them. I have no idea what Scott said to convince her to give him another chance, although honestly I think she was more hurt about him not telling her than she was freaked about the whole werewolf thing.”
“The night of the full moon,” Lydia says abruptly, “What happened?”
“Scott and Jackson had a sleepover with Derek.” Stiles grins. “I’m still hoping pictures will turn up. I don’t know what Jackson’s been doing to learn control - Scott’s been coerced into training with Derek.”
Lydia nods, but her expression is absent. She shakes her head. “I - sorry, I’m just a little -“
“Yeah,” Stiles says, and then his eyes widen with horror as Lydia’s fill with tears. “Oh ohcrap. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - here,” he digs frantically in his backpack and pulls out a handful of diner napkins. “Sorry, I don’t have any tissues.”
Lydia laughs a little through her tears. “It’s fine. Thank you.” She wipes carefully at her eyes and visibly pulls herself together. “Okay. So what do we do now? I’m guessing these are not the Remus Lupin variety of werewolves, since ‘learning control’ implies control can be learned.”
Stiles stares at her. “You watched Harry Potter?”
“Please.” She flips a strawberry-blonde curl over her shoulder. “I read the books long before anyone had heard of Daniel Radcliffe.”
“I knew I fell in love with you for a reason,” Stiles breathes, and then he realizes what he just said and that he just spent the last hour and a half talking with Lydia Martin how is he not freaking out right now. He waits for the familiar thrill that always comes from looking at Lydia, but instead there’s just a rainbows-and-puppies feeling - a sort of comfortably warm feeling instead of the quick flash of heat there always was before. He wonders if this is what getting over a crush feels like and reflects he might not mind settling for friendship, if this is what friendship feels like.
Just as he thinks, with some manly disgust, that all he’s missing is a kitschy cartoon and he’ll have the perfect Hallmark card, Scott calls him. “Dude, could you possibly have worse timing? I’ve got a life-changing experience going on here. “
“Stiles, I think there’s something weird going on with Boyd’s sister.”
Stiles sighs, giving Lydia an apologetic smile. “Something weird. My favorite. Okay, what happened?”
“He texted me and said his parents were out of town so he had to watch his sister except she wasn’t feeling too good, so he wanted to stay with her but he said I could come over for a movie or something if I wanted, and I couldn’t find you, so I said yeah, sure, and then while we were watching Hancock his sister wanted some juice so I took it to her and Stiles she didn’t smell human - she smelled like the dogs at Dr. Deaton’s do when they’re about to die. I didn’t say anything to Boyd, but she looked really bad, Stiles. All pale and sort of gray all over.”
“Okay,” Stiles rubs a hand over his head. “Okay. Did you say anything to Boyd?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a half hour or so. I think I know what we’re dealing with.” He hangs up and turns to Lydia. “Sorry - I’ve got to run. There’s a situation.”
“I heard.” Lydia stands and smoothes down her clothes. “What do you think it is?”
Stiles’ lips twist ironically as he remembers his conversation with Derek a week ago. “An acheri. They target kids and they’re described as being grayish even though they can look like a little girl if they want. Boyd’s sister had a tea party last week. I’d bet there was an unexpected guest and that most of those kids got sick.”
Lydia has been re-applying her make-up while Stiles is talking, and as he finishes she closes her compact with a snap. “Great. So how do we kill it?”
“Well, according to the lore,” Stiles begins, then flails back, hands and words flying. “Oh, no, no, no, no, there is no we in this. Scott has wolfy healing powers so I’m reasonably confident he’ll come out of this alive, but I’m not letting -“
“Who said anything about ‘let’?” She purses her lips. “I’m not saying give me a weapon and let me go in guns blazing. I’m smart. Give me whatever sources you already have and let me research.”
Stiles hesitates, but it’s a reasonable demand and he doesn’t have a good rationale for why she can’t, so he scribbles down a few of the websites he’s used, grabs his backpack, and hurries to the store. He buys a spool of red ribbon and pulls in to Boyd’s driveway to find Scott waiting for him. He swings out of the jeep, ribbon in hand. “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s gonna be a bumpy night.”
Scott ignores the quote. “You have a plan?”
“Don’t I always? If we put this -“ he waves the hand with the ribbon “- around her neck, according to the lore, it’ll hold off the acheri until we can find some way of either killing it or putting it to rest. From all accounts, though, this thing is tough. It won’t like our blocking it from feeding and I don’t think we can keep red ribbons around the neck of every kid in Beacon Hills for however long it takes it to starve.”
“So how do we put it to rest, or whatever?”
“I’ll have to look back over the lore, but from what I remember we’re not going to be able to do it with just the two of us.” Stiles hesitates, wondering how Scott would react if he suggested asking Derek for help.
“I called Derek,” Scott says, and Stiles gapes, because this from the guy who was totally on board with pretending the other werewolf didn’t exist.
Scott says defensively, “He’s gotten better at not being a jerk - especially during training. I mean, he still throws us into trees and knocks the crap out of us, but he actually tells us what we’ve done wrong and how to get better and explains stuff more. Even when Jackson’s being a complete - well, being a complete Jackson, he doesn’t flash the eyes and rip him to shreds. It’s been kinda fun, actually. I get to beat up Jackson as much as I want and get pointers on get better at doing it.”
Stiles rolls his eyes heavenward. “So now you and Jackson and Derek get to be all buddy-buddy and bond over tree-bashing. Wonderful. What did Derek say?”
“He just said to tell you about the smell and then call him back once we have some idea of what it is.”
“Um.” Stiles is still struggling to comprehend the fact that Scott and Derek are communicating without growls and flashing eyes and trying to kill one another every two minutes. Okay, maybe still with the trying to kill each other, but it’s a sort of friendly trying to kill each other. “So. Once we figure out a plan we’ll call Derek. Please tell me this doesn’t mean Jackson’s going to be Superman and dash in at the last minute to save the day because I really might shoot myself in the face with a bazooka if that happens.”
Scott just punches him in the shoulder and then his face turns serious. “We’re going to have to tell Boyd, aren’t we?”
“Unless you can think of a way to make him keep a ribbon tied around his sister’s neck for no apparent reason, yeah.”
“Okay.” Scott runs a hand through his hair. “I think he’s in the kitchen fixing Julia some soup. You want me to tell him?”
“I can. I don’t think we have to tell him anything about you know what unless he won’t believe us about the other thing without proof.”
“Well, once more into the breech,” Scott says, and goes into the house, leaving Stiles behind him, open-mouthed and completely floored by the fact that Scott-I-hate-Shakespeare-please-Stiles-don’t-make-me-read-that-McCall actually quoted Henry V. Correctly.
When Stiles tells Boyd that they think something supernatural is causing Julia’s fever, the other boy just stares at them with an inscrutable expression for a solid minute before he says, “Do you have a way to stop whatever it is?”
Scott and Stiles glance at each other and Scott ventures, “You’re…not going to ask how we know this or freak out or laugh at us for believing in this stuff?”
Boyd shrugs. “Either you’re right and you’re telling me this because you think you can help or you’re just playing the douchiest practical joke ever and I knock your brains out. It’s my little sister’s life on the line here. And nobody messes with my little sister. You got that?”
He’s in their faces, ducking a little to look them both in the eye. They chorus, “Got it.”
He leans back a little. “Good. So you guys have a cure or something?”
Stiles explains about the ribbon and assures Boyd they’re going to find out how to stop the acheri before it kills anyone. Boyd listens attentively all the way through the explanation, stirring the pot of soup on the stove, and when Stiles is done he just says, “I want to come with you to kill this thing.”
Scott and Stiles share another glance, Scott’s saying, we can’t let him come he’ll get hurt and probably find out I’m a werewolf and he’ll hate me and Stiles’ saying, he’ll won’t hate you but we don’t even know how to kill this thing yet and he probably will get hurt and both of them chorus again, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have a secret weapon,” Stiles says, moving his eyebrows in a suitably mysterious fashion, “that we can’t use with humans around. Er. Humans other than Scott and myself.”
“Stiles.” Boyd says, and what with the looming, buffness, and really freaking scary way of saying his name, Stiles is forcibly reminded of Derek. “What.” He says back, with his best impression of Derek asking a question. Scott gives him a funny look.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in better shape than either of you, and if you actually do have a ‘secret weapon’,” - he actually uncrosses his arms long enough to do the air quotes - “I promise not to tell anyone. It’s my sister.”
There are some people who don’t seem to have the right faces for looking vulnerable. Seeing them looking so lost and helpless makes the whole world seem more chaotic, as though the balance has been thrown off with their loss of control and makes those around them feel more desperate in consequence. Stiles had felt this earlier with Lydia’s façade of pampered ice queen cracking to reveal the very human, vulnerable girl underneath. Scott had felt it when Derek had inexplicably pulled him aside after training one day to tell him that he, Derek, was never meant to be the alpha - that most of the time he had no idea what he was doing, but he was trying, even though he knew he’d screwed up a lot already, he did want Scott to be Pack. Scott had looked into his face and seen the sixteen year old who had just lost his family and home and saw how desperately he wants a family again, and Scott hadn’t said anything in reply, but when he followed his instincts and put his arms around the other man, Derek’s muscles had tensed and then relaxed and for a minute, Scott had felt at home and everything was screaming packfamilypackfamilyfamilypack. And now, Boyd’s face is more intense than either of them have ever seen it and there is a need to be doing something etched there that Stiles totally gets. So he says, “Listen, we don’t know how to kill it yet, but once we find that out and figure out a game plan, we’ll let you in on what’s happening, all right? That’s all I can promise right now.” He hands Boyd the ribbon. “Right now, you need to get this around your sister’s neck. Tell her it’s a get-well present or something and you’ll be sad if she doesn’t keep it on, but for the love of God don’t let her take it off.”
Boyd nods, his face drawn. “My parents won’t be home for another three days. How long do you think ganking this thing’ll take?”
“Hopefully we’ll be done before tomorrow afternoon, since we’re supposed to go to the McCall’s for Thanksgiving dinner.” Stiles pauses. “Hey, what are you and Julia doing for Thanksgiving since your parents are out of town?”
He shrugs. “Probably watch Charlie Brown and eat lunchmeat sandwiches. I’m not going to try to cook a turkey; I think my parents would like the kitchen to still be here when they get back.”
“You wanna come eat with us?” Scott asks, looking so much like a hopeful puppy Stiles isn’t a bit surprised when Boyd agrees. After glancing at Stiles to get a second opinion on whether it was all right and then insisting on bringing something. “Ask your mom what would be the most helpful.”
Walking back out to the jeep, Stiles says, “I’m totally breaking up with you as my best friend and asking Boyd out because he does nice things like bring me food and actually thinks to check ahead of time to see what I want.”
Scott pouts until Stiles punches him in the arm and then they tussle the rest of the way to the jeep. Scott calls Derek and updates him on what they think the creature is and Stiles steals the phone long enough to tell Derek that they’re working on a way to kill it and as soon as they have a little more information they’ll let him know.
Lydia calls him as they’re pulling into Stiles’ driveway and says that she knows how to kill it, she’ll meet them at Stiles’ house, and then hangs up before Stiles can protest that she doesn’t even have his address. She pulls in two minutes after they do and she and Jackson both climb out of the Porsche with their arms full of books and papers and when Stiles asks her how she found his house she flips her hair and says, “I had Danny hack into the school’s database and get the address for me, of course. Scott, get the rest of the books out of the back,” and sweeps off into the house.
“There are different mythologies about acheri demons - some sources say they’re from India, although most say they’re Native American spirits. All the legends agree about the red ribbon around the neck and most say that iron and salt will dispel them for a while. The only way I’ve found to kill them for good is to tie the red scarf that either used to belong to a medicine woman or has been blessed by one around their neck.” Lydia sits back in her chair from where she’s been pointing out the different sources in the books. “Anyone know of a medicine woman still in business?”
Stiles sits back and rubs at his eyes. “You’re sure there wasn’t any other way mentioned?” Lydia gives him a Look. “You’re sure. Okay, suggestions?”
“One of those said a wise woman, right?” Scott says, “So couldn’t we just get some smart woman to bless a handkerchief?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way,” Stiles drops his head onto his arms and says, voice muffled, “Okay, so leaving that problem out of the equation, how do we lure this thing out of hiding without putting kids in danger?”
They’re discussing ways to lure it into the open when Jackson, who has been lurking in the corner (lurking and brooding have got to be a part of werewolf DNA) eating an apple loudly just to see Scott flinch, says, “Does this thing have an age cut-off?” Everyone turns to look at him and he takes another bite of apple before going on, “I mean, everything you’ve been saying is all about kids and we’re all thinking of little snot-nosed brats, right? And yeah, Stilinski and McCall are definitely kids, if we’re going by maturity. But just going by age, we’re all still kids.”
They all look at each other, because yeah, technically, Jackson’s right, but none of them have thought about the fact that they all could potentially be targets.
“But this is kinda good, right?” Stiles says, “I mean, this way we’ve got bait ready-made. I’m guessing she won’t affect you werewolves as much, what with the whole superhealing thing you’ve got going on, so if I draw her out then you werewolf types can hold her long enough for someone to get the scarf around her neck.”
“Of course, this is all assuming we can get the scarf in the first place.” Lydia is twisting a piece of hair around her finger, thinking. “The Karok people used to live around here - maybe there are still some descendents?”
“A descendent who is still here and a practicing medicine woman?” Stiles shakes his head. “The only thing I can think of at this point is to advertise on ebay or something.”
Jackson scoffs, naturally, but nobody has any better ideas and glum silence falls.
Then Stiles jumps up abruptly. “Scott, text Allison and ask her to get a couple shotguns and a couple boxes of empty shells and bring them here. Then text Boyd and tell him we’ve figured out how to deal with the acheri and not to worry. Lydia and Jackson - just…hang around and look cool until I get back.” He plucks his keys off the hook by the door and dashes out to his jeep, already calling Derek. “Hey,” he says as soon as the alpha picks up with a gruff ‘what’, “So you know how you mentioned you still had some connections in the supernatural community?”
There’s a short silence and then Derek says, “Is this about the acheri?”
“Yes. Well. Sort of,” Stiles says, accelerating to well above the speed limit and above what his jeep likes - with a pat of apology to his baby’s dashboard. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Alan Deaton, would you?”
There’s a longer silence this time, and when Derek answers his voice is suspicious. “What are you planning, Stiles?”
“Look, to kill the acheri demon we need a red scarf blessed by a ‘wise woman’. Scott told me Deaton knows more about the supernatural than he lets on, and I figure he’s the closest we can get to a medicine man. I’m headed to the vet’s now. Hopefully to catch him before he locks up. If there are any deep dark secrets that you know about him that I should know, now would be a great time to tell me. Also if you know of anything besides salt that we can put in shotgun shells to hold off the acheri for as long as possible that would also be great.” He hears the sound of a car door slamming and a motor gunning and then Derek says, “Ask Deaton for mountain ash. Do you already have a cloth?”
Stiles would bash his head into the steering wheel if that wouldn’t result in an accident with the very nice classic mustang in front of him. “No, I forgot.”
“I’ll pick one up and meet you at the vet’s.” Derek says, and hangs up.
Stiles is halfway through his explanation to Deaton of what’s going on and why they need his help when Derek shows up with three handkerchiefs and two scarves. He and Deaton exchange nods that are, if not exactly full of warmth and love and fluffy bunnies, at least contain respect for the other. He offers the handful of cloth to the vet. “I wasn’t sure if it had to be solid red or not.”
Deaton take them with a slightly confused expression. “This is the cloth that you plan to tie around the neck of this demon?”
“Yeah.” Stiles says. “Well, after you bless it. Since you’re kinda the closest thing we have to a Kekata, I figured you were our best bet.”
Stiles doesn’t think either of the men get the reference (probably not, going by their befuddled [Deaton] and impatient [Derek] expressions) but Deaton agrees to try and bless the cloths and to supply them with mountain ash. Which he apparently has bucketloads of for some mysterious reason that he won’t tell Stiles about.
When the veterinarian holds his hands over the cloth and intones a ‘blessing’ over it, there’s no obvious change, but when Derek moves to pick them up he drops them again immediately, backing away with a snarl. “They feel like they’re burning,” he says when Stiles gives him a questioning look.
Stiles picks them up, gingerly, but he doesn’t feel anything besides a slight itch. The itch is probably due more to the fact that one of the scarves is wool than to any supernatural cause. He shrugs, thanks the doctor, and heads out the door, ash and cloth in hand. Derek follows him. “When are you going after this thing?”
“As soon as we get the shotgun shells filled with ash and salt.”
“Who exactly are you planning to have shoot these? You know Jackson and Scott can’t touch them.”
“They can’t?” Stiles looks interested.
“Mountain ash is a barrier for us and most other supernatural things. We can’t cross a line made of it and we can’t touch it ourselves. Salt doesn’t affect us as much - it’s more like an itch, but they won’t be able to touch the guns.”
Stiles pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Crap. I was planning on being bait while you guys -“
“You were planning on what.”
“Being bait. Jackson pointed out that all of us are technically underage so we actually could be targets so that means I can lure the acheri -“
“No.”
“No what?”
“No you can’t be bait for a demon. Scott or Jackson can do it - if the demon hurts them they’ll heal. You won’t.”
Stiles clenches his jaw, pulling the car door open with a jerk. “Listen, pal, it’s because I’m a puny human that I can do this. Thanks for that, by the way, great to know you think I’m a weakling and not good for anything up to and including being bait. Jackson and Scott will heal too fast for the acheri to be lured out - she won’t affect them at all. Once we kill her I’m pretty sure everyone will get better fast; that’s usually how this works, so thanks for the concern, but this is the plan. If you don’t like it, don’t come.”
“Who said I was coming anyway.”
Stiles scoffs. “Oh, right, you were just going to let your pack go running after something like this armed with a bandanna and a puny human.”
Derek clenches his jaw, which looks much more threatening than when Stiles does it. “Tell me your plan and we’ll talk. And Scott’s not my pack.”
“Not yet. Not here - we’re wasting time.” Stiles reaches over and opens the passenger door. “Come on. I’ll tell you the plan once we get back to the house.”
Derek looks at the jeep like it’s a bad smell right under his nose, but he gets in.
Back at the house Stiles dumps the ash on the table, makes Scott go down and bring the ten-pound bag of rock salt up from the basement, and he, Allison, and Lydia fill the shotgun shells while he talks. “Okay, here’s the plan. I wander innocently near the caves out on the preserve, since that’s probably where she - it’s - hiding. The lore says they live in mountains and that’s the closest thing around here. Allison will be covering me with the shotguns. Once the thing comes out to get me then Jackson and Scott will hold on to it until someone - probably me, since most of you can’t even touch the cloth - ties the cloth around it’s neck. Then it dies and everyone goes home and sleeps and then gorges themselves on turkey tomorrow.”
There’s dead silence for ten seconds, and then Scott says, looking uneasy. “I don’t like this plan.”
Derek crosses his arms across his chest and smirks at Stiles, who sends Scott a betrayed look. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t like Allison being there. She could get hurt.” Allison rolls her eyes and elbows Scott, hissing something in his ear. “And you. Could also get hurt, and Stiles, I don’t want my best friend getting hurt, or my girlfriend, which is why this is a bad plan.”
Stiles shoves down the part of him that is muttering, ‘he cares about Allison more than me, Allison had to remind him about me, Derek cared more about my safety’, and says firmly, “Allison will be fine. She won’t be near the acheri. I will also be fine, thank you for your concern, since I’ll only be near it for a very short time before you get to jump in and save the day.”
Of course it doesn’t work like that. The first half of the plan goes perfectly - Scott and Jackson and Derek (because of course he’s tagging along) start growling quietly from where they’re hiding, waiting for the thing to come out, from which Stiles infers that the acheri can’t resist the thought of his tender young body being hers for the taking, and sure enough, a minute later a little girl, not more than ten and dressed all in grey like a bad quality black and white movie, comes walking towards Stiles. She looks disturbingly like a miniature weeping angel. Stiles swallows hard and tries not to blink, just in case. She comes closer and he feels sweat and chills chase each other all over his body. “You brought me a snack! How very thoughtful!” Her smile is wide and delighted and Stiles rarely been more afraid in his life. He can feel what the Native Americans would have called a ‘wasting fever’ creeping into what feels like his very bones and behind his eyes and he can’t quite hold back a shudder. “That’s me - thoughtful all over.”
“Mmm.” She looks him up and down like he’s a particularly delectable piece of meat and licks her lips. “You look like you’d be other things all over, too.”
She’s almost touching him now, and Stiles just has time to wonder where the hell everyone else is before his already graying vision goes black and he feels himself falling and hitting something hard as growls, yelps, and yells erupt around him.
When he wakes up, he’s in the bed of a pickup truck on top of someone’s coat and underneath someone else’s. Scott is saying in a worried voice, “Shouldn’t he be waking up by now?” and then Allison says something soothing and then Stiles isn’t paying much attention to anything because his head suddenly feels like he just tried to headbutt Derek and Boyd in the stomach one after the other, and he has two words to say to that. Steel. Abs.
“He’s awake,” a gruff voice that he distantly recognizes as Derek says.
“It’s about time,” another complains, distinctively Jackson, “we’ve been waiting for two hours. I still say we should have just left while he was asleep - it’s not like he would have noticed.”
There’s a growl that’s followed by a smacking noise and Jackson yelps. “Shut up, Jackson,” Scott snaps, and then says in a more gentle tone, “Stiles? You awake, bro?”
Stiles groans. “Could someone please take the lead weights off of my eyelids? And please tell me that thing is dead.”
Scott huffs a laugh. “Yeah, it’s dead, man. Boyd killed it.”
That makes Stiles’ eyes fly open, to see, sure enough, Boyd is sitting on the side of the truck. He gives a little wave when he sees Stiles looking.
“Why are you here.” Huh. He must be picking up Derek’s habit of not using question marks at the end of a sentence.
There’s a confused muddle of noise as everyone tries to explain at once, and then Lydia - Lydia why is Lydia here - demands quiet and then explains that after Stiles collapsed - “You just fainted, dude,” Scott helpfully explains - Jackson and Derek grabbed the acheri, except apparently the demon is telekinetic too because she threw them into trees. And then Allison shot her with a round of salt and ash and she dissolved for a couple minutes. Then all three of the boys grabbed her and they managed to hold on to her but of course they can’t touch the cloth and you were out of commission and Allison was on back up duty, so of course Boyd and I had to come save all your sorry hides.” She blows Boyd a kiss. Jackson looks murderous, but a growl from both Scott and Derek keep him from moving to rip Boyd’s throat out. With his teeth.
“So you and Boyd just - what, decided to bring popcorn and come watch?” Stiles is still confused, which, okay, might be due to the fact that he feels as weak as the Man in Black after he was brought back to life by Miracle Max, but he distinctly remembers Lydia saying she didn’t want to rush into things guns blazing.
“Well, after you guys left, Boyd came screeching into your driveway and demanded to know where you were. He said there was no way he was letting you kill that thing without him, and so I offered to show him the way because I figured you’d probably had enough of getting your butts kicked for one day by that time.”
“Thanks, Lydia,” Scott mumbles.
She flashes him a brilliant smile. “You’re welcome.”
Allison dimples at Stiles. “We were just waiting for you to wake up before we went home.”
“Well, surprise! I’m awake. Let’s go - I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Stiles pulls himself upright. “Who has my keys?”
“You’re not driving,” at least four different people chorus, and Stiles protests, “I am not letting Scott drive my baby! Er. My jeep.”
Jackson smirks. “Your baby? Baby have a name, Stilinski? Did you name it Betsy? Do you go out at night and -“
“Enough,” Derek says. “Stiles, give me your keys. Boyd, take Lydia and Allison home. Scott, Jackson and Stiles: you’re with me.”
“Anything else I missed?” Stiles asks Scott as he makes his slow way towards his jeep (who is not named Betsy, thank you very much).
“Well, Boyd knows about werewolves now. And he and Derek are coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
“Geez! You get knocked out for a couple measly hours and you miss everything. Next time you get to play princess and I get to be the hero.”
“I thought you were Robin.”
“Shut up, Scott.”
Author: eavis
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Word Count: 5787
Rating: K+
Characters: Stiles, Derek, Scott, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Dr. Deaton
Summary: Lydia demands the truth, assures Stiles she can handle the truth, and gets the truth. Boyd's sister falls prey to an acheri and the gang rides to the rescue.
Lydia wakes up within a day of the ‘flowers’ being delivered to her room by a sympathetic Melissa McCall and is back ruling school the day after that.
Allison and Scott disappear for an hour during Chem and appear at lunch holding hands, just as rainbow-vomit-inducingly cute as ever.
Scott, Allison, Boyd, Erica and Stiles sit at the same table during lunch, and thanks to a conversation with Allison (naturally it’s Allison that convinces him), Scott starts going to twice a week training sessions with Derek.
A week after Lydia wakes up, she corners Stiles in the library. “All right, Stilinski, squeal.”
“What am I squealing about? And this is not how I imagined our first interaction without impending bloody violence involved going.”
“I wake up and there is a weird bouquet in my room and when I asked my nurse - who happens to be your little pal Scott’s mom - she said it was from you.” She tilts her head. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Stilinski?”
“No,” Stiles says, because, well, he isn’t an idiot.
“Then would you care to tell me what you were doing putting a bouquet of flowers and herbs intended to ward off the supernatural in my room and how you expected me to not have questions. And then you can explain why I woke up seven hours after you sent it in. Either you are seriously delusional or you have some explaining to do - and that explanation should include the reason for Jackson’s new contacts and why they reflect light like a wolf’s.”
Stiles stats edging away. “What would I know anything about Jackson’s fashion choices? That’s more your department - at least it is if you guys are back together,” and if that last is a little bitter, well, he can’t find it in himself to take it back.
“Stiles.” For the first time, Lydia looks vulnerable. Alone. Stiles stops edging away. “Please. I know there’s something going on. Scott and Allison’s breakup and all that craziness at the Formal and that man that attacked me had fangs and claws and then today Jackson had claws and his eyes went all weird and I just need to know what. is going. on.”
Stiles looks at her, at the desperate tears hanging precariously from carefully made-up eyelashes, and her hands that are clenched tightly at her side, holding on to herself as though she is afraid if she let go she will break like an ice sculpture falling to a concrete floor, shattering into a thousand beautiful shards. And he says “Okay.” He takes told of her arm and guides her to one of the corner armchairs and sits in the one opposite. “This is all going to sound insane and it will probably take a long time so get comfortable and try not to freak out.”
He starts with his own stupidity in going into the woods at night - “ you’d think I’d never heard a fairy tale” - and goes from there, explaining Derek and Peter and leaving out as much about the Argents as he can. He ends with Jackson’s quest for the bite and, after what seems like an interminably long struggle with himself, tells Lydia why Jackson wanted the bite.
Lydia doesn’t look at Stiles once he finally winds to a close. “So is that why Scott and Allison broke up? She found out?”
“No. Well, yes. Her family - they’re hunters. They kill werewolves for a living. At least, that’s what the Argents do. I’m pretty sure there have got to be other hunters - if there are werewolves there’s got to be other things too and people to hunt them. I have no idea what Scott said to convince her to give him another chance, although honestly I think she was more hurt about him not telling her than she was freaked about the whole werewolf thing.”
“The night of the full moon,” Lydia says abruptly, “What happened?”
“Scott and Jackson had a sleepover with Derek.” Stiles grins. “I’m still hoping pictures will turn up. I don’t know what Jackson’s been doing to learn control - Scott’s been coerced into training with Derek.”
Lydia nods, but her expression is absent. She shakes her head. “I - sorry, I’m just a little -“
“Yeah,” Stiles says, and then his eyes widen with horror as Lydia’s fill with tears. “Oh ohcrap. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - here,” he digs frantically in his backpack and pulls out a handful of diner napkins. “Sorry, I don’t have any tissues.”
Lydia laughs a little through her tears. “It’s fine. Thank you.” She wipes carefully at her eyes and visibly pulls herself together. “Okay. So what do we do now? I’m guessing these are not the Remus Lupin variety of werewolves, since ‘learning control’ implies control can be learned.”
Stiles stares at her. “You watched Harry Potter?”
“Please.” She flips a strawberry-blonde curl over her shoulder. “I read the books long before anyone had heard of Daniel Radcliffe.”
“I knew I fell in love with you for a reason,” Stiles breathes, and then he realizes what he just said and that he just spent the last hour and a half talking with Lydia Martin how is he not freaking out right now. He waits for the familiar thrill that always comes from looking at Lydia, but instead there’s just a rainbows-and-puppies feeling - a sort of comfortably warm feeling instead of the quick flash of heat there always was before. He wonders if this is what getting over a crush feels like and reflects he might not mind settling for friendship, if this is what friendship feels like.
Just as he thinks, with some manly disgust, that all he’s missing is a kitschy cartoon and he’ll have the perfect Hallmark card, Scott calls him. “Dude, could you possibly have worse timing? I’ve got a life-changing experience going on here. “
“Stiles, I think there’s something weird going on with Boyd’s sister.”
Stiles sighs, giving Lydia an apologetic smile. “Something weird. My favorite. Okay, what happened?”
“He texted me and said his parents were out of town so he had to watch his sister except she wasn’t feeling too good, so he wanted to stay with her but he said I could come over for a movie or something if I wanted, and I couldn’t find you, so I said yeah, sure, and then while we were watching Hancock his sister wanted some juice so I took it to her and Stiles she didn’t smell human - she smelled like the dogs at Dr. Deaton’s do when they’re about to die. I didn’t say anything to Boyd, but she looked really bad, Stiles. All pale and sort of gray all over.”
“Okay,” Stiles rubs a hand over his head. “Okay. Did you say anything to Boyd?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a half hour or so. I think I know what we’re dealing with.” He hangs up and turns to Lydia. “Sorry - I’ve got to run. There’s a situation.”
“I heard.” Lydia stands and smoothes down her clothes. “What do you think it is?”
Stiles’ lips twist ironically as he remembers his conversation with Derek a week ago. “An acheri. They target kids and they’re described as being grayish even though they can look like a little girl if they want. Boyd’s sister had a tea party last week. I’d bet there was an unexpected guest and that most of those kids got sick.”
Lydia has been re-applying her make-up while Stiles is talking, and as he finishes she closes her compact with a snap. “Great. So how do we kill it?”
“Well, according to the lore,” Stiles begins, then flails back, hands and words flying. “Oh, no, no, no, no, there is no we in this. Scott has wolfy healing powers so I’m reasonably confident he’ll come out of this alive, but I’m not letting -“
“Who said anything about ‘let’?” She purses her lips. “I’m not saying give me a weapon and let me go in guns blazing. I’m smart. Give me whatever sources you already have and let me research.”
Stiles hesitates, but it’s a reasonable demand and he doesn’t have a good rationale for why she can’t, so he scribbles down a few of the websites he’s used, grabs his backpack, and hurries to the store. He buys a spool of red ribbon and pulls in to Boyd’s driveway to find Scott waiting for him. He swings out of the jeep, ribbon in hand. “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s gonna be a bumpy night.”
Scott ignores the quote. “You have a plan?”
“Don’t I always? If we put this -“ he waves the hand with the ribbon “- around her neck, according to the lore, it’ll hold off the acheri until we can find some way of either killing it or putting it to rest. From all accounts, though, this thing is tough. It won’t like our blocking it from feeding and I don’t think we can keep red ribbons around the neck of every kid in Beacon Hills for however long it takes it to starve.”
“So how do we put it to rest, or whatever?”
“I’ll have to look back over the lore, but from what I remember we’re not going to be able to do it with just the two of us.” Stiles hesitates, wondering how Scott would react if he suggested asking Derek for help.
“I called Derek,” Scott says, and Stiles gapes, because this from the guy who was totally on board with pretending the other werewolf didn’t exist.
Scott says defensively, “He’s gotten better at not being a jerk - especially during training. I mean, he still throws us into trees and knocks the crap out of us, but he actually tells us what we’ve done wrong and how to get better and explains stuff more. Even when Jackson’s being a complete - well, being a complete Jackson, he doesn’t flash the eyes and rip him to shreds. It’s been kinda fun, actually. I get to beat up Jackson as much as I want and get pointers on get better at doing it.”
Stiles rolls his eyes heavenward. “So now you and Jackson and Derek get to be all buddy-buddy and bond over tree-bashing. Wonderful. What did Derek say?”
“He just said to tell you about the smell and then call him back once we have some idea of what it is.”
“Um.” Stiles is still struggling to comprehend the fact that Scott and Derek are communicating without growls and flashing eyes and trying to kill one another every two minutes. Okay, maybe still with the trying to kill each other, but it’s a sort of friendly trying to kill each other. “So. Once we figure out a plan we’ll call Derek. Please tell me this doesn’t mean Jackson’s going to be Superman and dash in at the last minute to save the day because I really might shoot myself in the face with a bazooka if that happens.”
Scott just punches him in the shoulder and then his face turns serious. “We’re going to have to tell Boyd, aren’t we?”
“Unless you can think of a way to make him keep a ribbon tied around his sister’s neck for no apparent reason, yeah.”
“Okay.” Scott runs a hand through his hair. “I think he’s in the kitchen fixing Julia some soup. You want me to tell him?”
“I can. I don’t think we have to tell him anything about you know what unless he won’t believe us about the other thing without proof.”
“Well, once more into the breech,” Scott says, and goes into the house, leaving Stiles behind him, open-mouthed and completely floored by the fact that Scott-I-hate-Shakespeare-please-Stiles-don’t-make-me-read-that-McCall actually quoted Henry V. Correctly.
When Stiles tells Boyd that they think something supernatural is causing Julia’s fever, the other boy just stares at them with an inscrutable expression for a solid minute before he says, “Do you have a way to stop whatever it is?”
Scott and Stiles glance at each other and Scott ventures, “You’re…not going to ask how we know this or freak out or laugh at us for believing in this stuff?”
Boyd shrugs. “Either you’re right and you’re telling me this because you think you can help or you’re just playing the douchiest practical joke ever and I knock your brains out. It’s my little sister’s life on the line here. And nobody messes with my little sister. You got that?”
He’s in their faces, ducking a little to look them both in the eye. They chorus, “Got it.”
He leans back a little. “Good. So you guys have a cure or something?”
Stiles explains about the ribbon and assures Boyd they’re going to find out how to stop the acheri before it kills anyone. Boyd listens attentively all the way through the explanation, stirring the pot of soup on the stove, and when Stiles is done he just says, “I want to come with you to kill this thing.”
Scott and Stiles share another glance, Scott’s saying, we can’t let him come he’ll get hurt and probably find out I’m a werewolf and he’ll hate me and Stiles’ saying, he’ll won’t hate you but we don’t even know how to kill this thing yet and he probably will get hurt and both of them chorus again, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have a secret weapon,” Stiles says, moving his eyebrows in a suitably mysterious fashion, “that we can’t use with humans around. Er. Humans other than Scott and myself.”
“Stiles.” Boyd says, and what with the looming, buffness, and really freaking scary way of saying his name, Stiles is forcibly reminded of Derek. “What.” He says back, with his best impression of Derek asking a question. Scott gives him a funny look.
“I’m pretty sure I’m in better shape than either of you, and if you actually do have a ‘secret weapon’,” - he actually uncrosses his arms long enough to do the air quotes - “I promise not to tell anyone. It’s my sister.”
There are some people who don’t seem to have the right faces for looking vulnerable. Seeing them looking so lost and helpless makes the whole world seem more chaotic, as though the balance has been thrown off with their loss of control and makes those around them feel more desperate in consequence. Stiles had felt this earlier with Lydia’s façade of pampered ice queen cracking to reveal the very human, vulnerable girl underneath. Scott had felt it when Derek had inexplicably pulled him aside after training one day to tell him that he, Derek, was never meant to be the alpha - that most of the time he had no idea what he was doing, but he was trying, even though he knew he’d screwed up a lot already, he did want Scott to be Pack. Scott had looked into his face and seen the sixteen year old who had just lost his family and home and saw how desperately he wants a family again, and Scott hadn’t said anything in reply, but when he followed his instincts and put his arms around the other man, Derek’s muscles had tensed and then relaxed and for a minute, Scott had felt at home and everything was screaming packfamilypackfamilyfamilypack. And now, Boyd’s face is more intense than either of them have ever seen it and there is a need to be doing something etched there that Stiles totally gets. So he says, “Listen, we don’t know how to kill it yet, but once we find that out and figure out a game plan, we’ll let you in on what’s happening, all right? That’s all I can promise right now.” He hands Boyd the ribbon. “Right now, you need to get this around your sister’s neck. Tell her it’s a get-well present or something and you’ll be sad if she doesn’t keep it on, but for the love of God don’t let her take it off.”
Boyd nods, his face drawn. “My parents won’t be home for another three days. How long do you think ganking this thing’ll take?”
“Hopefully we’ll be done before tomorrow afternoon, since we’re supposed to go to the McCall’s for Thanksgiving dinner.” Stiles pauses. “Hey, what are you and Julia doing for Thanksgiving since your parents are out of town?”
He shrugs. “Probably watch Charlie Brown and eat lunchmeat sandwiches. I’m not going to try to cook a turkey; I think my parents would like the kitchen to still be here when they get back.”
“You wanna come eat with us?” Scott asks, looking so much like a hopeful puppy Stiles isn’t a bit surprised when Boyd agrees. After glancing at Stiles to get a second opinion on whether it was all right and then insisting on bringing something. “Ask your mom what would be the most helpful.”
Walking back out to the jeep, Stiles says, “I’m totally breaking up with you as my best friend and asking Boyd out because he does nice things like bring me food and actually thinks to check ahead of time to see what I want.”
Scott pouts until Stiles punches him in the arm and then they tussle the rest of the way to the jeep. Scott calls Derek and updates him on what they think the creature is and Stiles steals the phone long enough to tell Derek that they’re working on a way to kill it and as soon as they have a little more information they’ll let him know.
Lydia calls him as they’re pulling into Stiles’ driveway and says that she knows how to kill it, she’ll meet them at Stiles’ house, and then hangs up before Stiles can protest that she doesn’t even have his address. She pulls in two minutes after they do and she and Jackson both climb out of the Porsche with their arms full of books and papers and when Stiles asks her how she found his house she flips her hair and says, “I had Danny hack into the school’s database and get the address for me, of course. Scott, get the rest of the books out of the back,” and sweeps off into the house.
“There are different mythologies about acheri demons - some sources say they’re from India, although most say they’re Native American spirits. All the legends agree about the red ribbon around the neck and most say that iron and salt will dispel them for a while. The only way I’ve found to kill them for good is to tie the red scarf that either used to belong to a medicine woman or has been blessed by one around their neck.” Lydia sits back in her chair from where she’s been pointing out the different sources in the books. “Anyone know of a medicine woman still in business?”
Stiles sits back and rubs at his eyes. “You’re sure there wasn’t any other way mentioned?” Lydia gives him a Look. “You’re sure. Okay, suggestions?”
“One of those said a wise woman, right?” Scott says, “So couldn’t we just get some smart woman to bless a handkerchief?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way,” Stiles drops his head onto his arms and says, voice muffled, “Okay, so leaving that problem out of the equation, how do we lure this thing out of hiding without putting kids in danger?”
They’re discussing ways to lure it into the open when Jackson, who has been lurking in the corner (lurking and brooding have got to be a part of werewolf DNA) eating an apple loudly just to see Scott flinch, says, “Does this thing have an age cut-off?” Everyone turns to look at him and he takes another bite of apple before going on, “I mean, everything you’ve been saying is all about kids and we’re all thinking of little snot-nosed brats, right? And yeah, Stilinski and McCall are definitely kids, if we’re going by maturity. But just going by age, we’re all still kids.”
They all look at each other, because yeah, technically, Jackson’s right, but none of them have thought about the fact that they all could potentially be targets.
“But this is kinda good, right?” Stiles says, “I mean, this way we’ve got bait ready-made. I’m guessing she won’t affect you werewolves as much, what with the whole superhealing thing you’ve got going on, so if I draw her out then you werewolf types can hold her long enough for someone to get the scarf around her neck.”
“Of course, this is all assuming we can get the scarf in the first place.” Lydia is twisting a piece of hair around her finger, thinking. “The Karok people used to live around here - maybe there are still some descendents?”
“A descendent who is still here and a practicing medicine woman?” Stiles shakes his head. “The only thing I can think of at this point is to advertise on ebay or something.”
Jackson scoffs, naturally, but nobody has any better ideas and glum silence falls.
Then Stiles jumps up abruptly. “Scott, text Allison and ask her to get a couple shotguns and a couple boxes of empty shells and bring them here. Then text Boyd and tell him we’ve figured out how to deal with the acheri and not to worry. Lydia and Jackson - just…hang around and look cool until I get back.” He plucks his keys off the hook by the door and dashes out to his jeep, already calling Derek. “Hey,” he says as soon as the alpha picks up with a gruff ‘what’, “So you know how you mentioned you still had some connections in the supernatural community?”
There’s a short silence and then Derek says, “Is this about the acheri?”
“Yes. Well. Sort of,” Stiles says, accelerating to well above the speed limit and above what his jeep likes - with a pat of apology to his baby’s dashboard. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Alan Deaton, would you?”
There’s a longer silence this time, and when Derek answers his voice is suspicious. “What are you planning, Stiles?”
“Look, to kill the acheri demon we need a red scarf blessed by a ‘wise woman’. Scott told me Deaton knows more about the supernatural than he lets on, and I figure he’s the closest we can get to a medicine man. I’m headed to the vet’s now. Hopefully to catch him before he locks up. If there are any deep dark secrets that you know about him that I should know, now would be a great time to tell me. Also if you know of anything besides salt that we can put in shotgun shells to hold off the acheri for as long as possible that would also be great.” He hears the sound of a car door slamming and a motor gunning and then Derek says, “Ask Deaton for mountain ash. Do you already have a cloth?”
Stiles would bash his head into the steering wheel if that wouldn’t result in an accident with the very nice classic mustang in front of him. “No, I forgot.”
“I’ll pick one up and meet you at the vet’s.” Derek says, and hangs up.
Stiles is halfway through his explanation to Deaton of what’s going on and why they need his help when Derek shows up with three handkerchiefs and two scarves. He and Deaton exchange nods that are, if not exactly full of warmth and love and fluffy bunnies, at least contain respect for the other. He offers the handful of cloth to the vet. “I wasn’t sure if it had to be solid red or not.”
Deaton take them with a slightly confused expression. “This is the cloth that you plan to tie around the neck of this demon?”
“Yeah.” Stiles says. “Well, after you bless it. Since you’re kinda the closest thing we have to a Kekata, I figured you were our best bet.”
Stiles doesn’t think either of the men get the reference (probably not, going by their befuddled [Deaton] and impatient [Derek] expressions) but Deaton agrees to try and bless the cloths and to supply them with mountain ash. Which he apparently has bucketloads of for some mysterious reason that he won’t tell Stiles about.
When the veterinarian holds his hands over the cloth and intones a ‘blessing’ over it, there’s no obvious change, but when Derek moves to pick them up he drops them again immediately, backing away with a snarl. “They feel like they’re burning,” he says when Stiles gives him a questioning look.
Stiles picks them up, gingerly, but he doesn’t feel anything besides a slight itch. The itch is probably due more to the fact that one of the scarves is wool than to any supernatural cause. He shrugs, thanks the doctor, and heads out the door, ash and cloth in hand. Derek follows him. “When are you going after this thing?”
“As soon as we get the shotgun shells filled with ash and salt.”
“Who exactly are you planning to have shoot these? You know Jackson and Scott can’t touch them.”
“They can’t?” Stiles looks interested.
“Mountain ash is a barrier for us and most other supernatural things. We can’t cross a line made of it and we can’t touch it ourselves. Salt doesn’t affect us as much - it’s more like an itch, but they won’t be able to touch the guns.”
Stiles pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Crap. I was planning on being bait while you guys -“
“You were planning on what.”
“Being bait. Jackson pointed out that all of us are technically underage so we actually could be targets so that means I can lure the acheri -“
“No.”
“No what?”
“No you can’t be bait for a demon. Scott or Jackson can do it - if the demon hurts them they’ll heal. You won’t.”
Stiles clenches his jaw, pulling the car door open with a jerk. “Listen, pal, it’s because I’m a puny human that I can do this. Thanks for that, by the way, great to know you think I’m a weakling and not good for anything up to and including being bait. Jackson and Scott will heal too fast for the acheri to be lured out - she won’t affect them at all. Once we kill her I’m pretty sure everyone will get better fast; that’s usually how this works, so thanks for the concern, but this is the plan. If you don’t like it, don’t come.”
“Who said I was coming anyway.”
Stiles scoffs. “Oh, right, you were just going to let your pack go running after something like this armed with a bandanna and a puny human.”
Derek clenches his jaw, which looks much more threatening than when Stiles does it. “Tell me your plan and we’ll talk. And Scott’s not my pack.”
“Not yet. Not here - we’re wasting time.” Stiles reaches over and opens the passenger door. “Come on. I’ll tell you the plan once we get back to the house.”
Derek looks at the jeep like it’s a bad smell right under his nose, but he gets in.
Back at the house Stiles dumps the ash on the table, makes Scott go down and bring the ten-pound bag of rock salt up from the basement, and he, Allison, and Lydia fill the shotgun shells while he talks. “Okay, here’s the plan. I wander innocently near the caves out on the preserve, since that’s probably where she - it’s - hiding. The lore says they live in mountains and that’s the closest thing around here. Allison will be covering me with the shotguns. Once the thing comes out to get me then Jackson and Scott will hold on to it until someone - probably me, since most of you can’t even touch the cloth - ties the cloth around it’s neck. Then it dies and everyone goes home and sleeps and then gorges themselves on turkey tomorrow.”
There’s dead silence for ten seconds, and then Scott says, looking uneasy. “I don’t like this plan.”
Derek crosses his arms across his chest and smirks at Stiles, who sends Scott a betrayed look. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t like Allison being there. She could get hurt.” Allison rolls her eyes and elbows Scott, hissing something in his ear. “And you. Could also get hurt, and Stiles, I don’t want my best friend getting hurt, or my girlfriend, which is why this is a bad plan.”
Stiles shoves down the part of him that is muttering, ‘he cares about Allison more than me, Allison had to remind him about me, Derek cared more about my safety’, and says firmly, “Allison will be fine. She won’t be near the acheri. I will also be fine, thank you for your concern, since I’ll only be near it for a very short time before you get to jump in and save the day.”
Of course it doesn’t work like that. The first half of the plan goes perfectly - Scott and Jackson and Derek (because of course he’s tagging along) start growling quietly from where they’re hiding, waiting for the thing to come out, from which Stiles infers that the acheri can’t resist the thought of his tender young body being hers for the taking, and sure enough, a minute later a little girl, not more than ten and dressed all in grey like a bad quality black and white movie, comes walking towards Stiles. She looks disturbingly like a miniature weeping angel. Stiles swallows hard and tries not to blink, just in case. She comes closer and he feels sweat and chills chase each other all over his body. “You brought me a snack! How very thoughtful!” Her smile is wide and delighted and Stiles rarely been more afraid in his life. He can feel what the Native Americans would have called a ‘wasting fever’ creeping into what feels like his very bones and behind his eyes and he can’t quite hold back a shudder. “That’s me - thoughtful all over.”
“Mmm.” She looks him up and down like he’s a particularly delectable piece of meat and licks her lips. “You look like you’d be other things all over, too.”
She’s almost touching him now, and Stiles just has time to wonder where the hell everyone else is before his already graying vision goes black and he feels himself falling and hitting something hard as growls, yelps, and yells erupt around him.
When he wakes up, he’s in the bed of a pickup truck on top of someone’s coat and underneath someone else’s. Scott is saying in a worried voice, “Shouldn’t he be waking up by now?” and then Allison says something soothing and then Stiles isn’t paying much attention to anything because his head suddenly feels like he just tried to headbutt Derek and Boyd in the stomach one after the other, and he has two words to say to that. Steel. Abs.
“He’s awake,” a gruff voice that he distantly recognizes as Derek says.
“It’s about time,” another complains, distinctively Jackson, “we’ve been waiting for two hours. I still say we should have just left while he was asleep - it’s not like he would have noticed.”
There’s a growl that’s followed by a smacking noise and Jackson yelps. “Shut up, Jackson,” Scott snaps, and then says in a more gentle tone, “Stiles? You awake, bro?”
Stiles groans. “Could someone please take the lead weights off of my eyelids? And please tell me that thing is dead.”
Scott huffs a laugh. “Yeah, it’s dead, man. Boyd killed it.”
That makes Stiles’ eyes fly open, to see, sure enough, Boyd is sitting on the side of the truck. He gives a little wave when he sees Stiles looking.
“Why are you here.” Huh. He must be picking up Derek’s habit of not using question marks at the end of a sentence.
There’s a confused muddle of noise as everyone tries to explain at once, and then Lydia - Lydia why is Lydia here - demands quiet and then explains that after Stiles collapsed - “You just fainted, dude,” Scott helpfully explains - Jackson and Derek grabbed the acheri, except apparently the demon is telekinetic too because she threw them into trees. And then Allison shot her with a round of salt and ash and she dissolved for a couple minutes. Then all three of the boys grabbed her and they managed to hold on to her but of course they can’t touch the cloth and you were out of commission and Allison was on back up duty, so of course Boyd and I had to come save all your sorry hides.” She blows Boyd a kiss. Jackson looks murderous, but a growl from both Scott and Derek keep him from moving to rip Boyd’s throat out. With his teeth.
“So you and Boyd just - what, decided to bring popcorn and come watch?” Stiles is still confused, which, okay, might be due to the fact that he feels as weak as the Man in Black after he was brought back to life by Miracle Max, but he distinctly remembers Lydia saying she didn’t want to rush into things guns blazing.
“Well, after you guys left, Boyd came screeching into your driveway and demanded to know where you were. He said there was no way he was letting you kill that thing without him, and so I offered to show him the way because I figured you’d probably had enough of getting your butts kicked for one day by that time.”
“Thanks, Lydia,” Scott mumbles.
She flashes him a brilliant smile. “You’re welcome.”
Allison dimples at Stiles. “We were just waiting for you to wake up before we went home.”
“Well, surprise! I’m awake. Let’s go - I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Stiles pulls himself upright. “Who has my keys?”
“You’re not driving,” at least four different people chorus, and Stiles protests, “I am not letting Scott drive my baby! Er. My jeep.”
Jackson smirks. “Your baby? Baby have a name, Stilinski? Did you name it Betsy? Do you go out at night and -“
“Enough,” Derek says. “Stiles, give me your keys. Boyd, take Lydia and Allison home. Scott, Jackson and Stiles: you’re with me.”
“Anything else I missed?” Stiles asks Scott as he makes his slow way towards his jeep (who is not named Betsy, thank you very much).
“Well, Boyd knows about werewolves now. And he and Derek are coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
“Geez! You get knocked out for a couple measly hours and you miss everything. Next time you get to play princess and I get to be the hero.”
“I thought you were Robin.”
“Shut up, Scott.”