This Is Not Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Title: This Is Not Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Harikari
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Derek/Stiles, Ensemble
Spoilers: Takes place after 2x04, goes AU from there.
Warnings: Violence, some gore, strong language, underage character in a relationship with an of age character, etc.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Written for fun, not profit.
Summary: Beacon Hills is getting stranger and more dangerous by the second. But it's okay, because Stiles has a plan.
Part One
It was lunch time and he and Scott were in the cafeteria, sitting at their usual table.
Scott was frowning and poking at the glob of spaghetti and meat sauce on his tray with a plastic fork. Stiles was sitting across from his friend, trying to ignore the frown and the woe-is-me vibe the werewolf was projecting. His own untouched tray was at his elbow and he was bent over a small stack of papers. He had printed out the first ten or so pages of Grandpa Argent’s bestiary (yes bestiary, not bestiality - he still didn’t want to know what Scott and Allison had been thinking) that morning and was attempting to decipher…something about the confusing jumble of black on white letters, anything about them.
Scott let go of the fork and lifted his arms over his head in a stretch, then hunched forward. He squinted at the sheets of paper and shook his head. “What is that language? Have you figured out anything yet?” He put obvious emphasis on the word ‘anything’.
Stiles glared.
Scott had no right to go all emphasis on him. It wasn’t like he had any answers or bright ideas. Hell, the werewolf hadn’t even bothered to copy the contents of the flash drive they had temporarily stolen from Allison’s grandfather to his own laptop. He’d left all of the figuring out to Stiles.
Which, normally? No big deal. But Stiles had acquired the bestiary on Friday night, after a conversation with Lydia Martin that he had never had the chance to finish and that no doubt left him looking like a total jerk in the girl’s eyes, breaking into and ransacking Principal Argent’s office, and several long and exhausting hours of holding a heavy and paralyzed-from-the-neck-down alpha wolf above water so he wouldn’t meet his end in a high school swimming pool. He had been tired Friday night (or rather very early Saturday morning, which is when he and the others involved in the homicidal lizard incident had finally been able to leave the school). He had barely had enough energy to make it home before dropping into bed.
Likewise, he had spent Saturday and Sunday recuperating from the whole being attacked by a giant lizard and almost drowning to death thing. He hadn’t even been able to work up the gumption to take more than a cursory glance at his History textbook on Sunday night, and there was a quiz fourth period.
As if uncomfortable with the intense glare Stiles was aiming his way, Scott squirmed in his seat. “I just…I’m just wondering. No rush or anything. I was just asking.”
Stiles reminded himself that Scott was under just as much (or more, it could be argued) stress as he was, rolled his eyes and turned back to the pile of papers in front of him. He jabbed a finger at the topmost sheet and tapped it.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”
Scott visibly straightened and leaned closer. “Yeah?” He paused for a second and then, “You’re not just saying that because they use Latin on that Supernatural show with the brothers and in the Harry Potter books, are you? I know there are werewolves and stuff in them but-“
In a gut reaction and completely straight faced, Stiles kicked his friend’s shin.
Scott mouthed an ‘ow’. He reached under the table and rubbed briskly at his leg.
As if I’m stupid enough to assume the bestiary is in Latin just because I saw it on some paranormal television show, he thought and barely managed to hold back an offended snort.
Stiles felt guilty for lashing out, but didn’t dignify his friend’s idiotic question with an answer.
(He also didn’t bother to inform the werewolf that he had actually gotten the idea that the beast index might be in Latin while watching one of his mom’s old Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, which he still played on occasion and which he had had on as background noise while getting ready for school that very morning - he had googled some of the phrases in the text to be sure it was in fact Latin, he hadn’t just assumed it was so because Latin seemed to be the go to language for Buffy and friends when things got strange. Scott didn’t need to know that particular detail, not really).
“See this phrase here? And this one? I searched them both in-between first and second period - they’re definitely Latin. I’m not one hundred percent sure that the entire bestiary is Latin but…it looks similar enough. Not that I’m an expert on languages or anything but…it would make sense.”
Scott nodded and sat back. He had a wary look in his eyes, like he was unsure what exactly he had done to cause the earlier attack on his leg and like he was wondering whether or not Stiles would do it again. “Okay,” he said. “So, Latin. What do we do with that? I mean, we don’t know Latin.”
It was Stiles’ turn to nod. “Yeah, well. I have an idea about that.”
“What?”
“We can ask Allison?”
“What?” The outburst was loud enough that a handful of people, including Jackson and Danny who were sitting two tables away, actually turned to look.
Stiles sighed. “Calm down. We don’t exactly want an audience for this conversation. Look, I know her dad forbade you from seeing her again and that her unhinged hunter grandfather is not only our school’s principal but also made it clear he knows you’re a werewolf but-“
Scott cut him off. “And he actually stabbed me in the stomach.”
“Yeah,” agreed Stiles. “There is that. But I still think Allison is our best bet. She comes from a werewolf hunting family, man. They pushed archery on her at a young age, right? Well if the bestiary is in Latin and the bestiary, like badass archery skills, is something a hunter has to utilize eventually it makes sense that they would teach her that at a young age, too.”
Scott was frowning again and shaking his head but Stiles pressed on anyway. “We can ask her, at least. And we won’t be obvious about it. I’ll even do the asking, you don’t have to do anything or have any contact with her. If she knows the language I’ll slip her a copy of the beast index and-“
“No,” hissed Scott and his voice was quieter than it was earlier but no less intense. Even more intense, maybe. “Stiles, I know you’re just trying to help. I know I want to know what is up with this giant snake or lizard or whatever monster thing just as much as you do, probably more. But I’m not going to mess around with this. I’m not going to have any contact with Allison at all, for now, and neither are you - because for all I know Allison’s grandfather and dad are together on this stabbing me thing. And Allison’s dad knows you know about werewolves and everything else that has happened, Stiles. He knows that where you’re involved I’m involved.”
The lacrosse co-captain trailed off, breathed deep and slow for a few long seconds. Then, “He threatened my mom. I’m not going to risk it. I’m not going to risk her. I’m going to keep my head down until we can figure this out, deal with it.”
And Stiles suddenly felt hurt and more than a little angry. He opened his mouth to speak, a harsh comeback for Scott ready on the tip of his tongue-
There was, abruptly and from out of nowhere, the loud clatter of something meeting unforgiving tile. Stiles whipped his head around and saw Lydia Martin standing at the end of the cafeteria table she had been sitting at with Allison and the others minutes before. She had dropped her lunch tray; a mess of spaghetti sauce and balled up napkins and plastic utensils were scattered on the floor before her.
Almost without thought, Stiles moved to help her clean up the mess.
But before he had even managed to stand, Lydia started screaming bloody murder.
-----
Stiles sighed deeply and squirmed in his seat.
He was sitting on one of the chairs outside of the guidance councilor’s office. A row of empty chairs stretched out to the left of him. He turned that way and down the long hallway, all the way at the end of it where a pair of vending machines stood, could make out the vague figures of Erica and Boyd.
In the half hour or so he had been sitting outside of Ms. Morrell's office the two werewolves had not ventured closer. They had not called out any questions or taunts. But they were lurking for a reason, Stiles was sure of it. It wasn’t a coincidence that two members of Derek’s pack had decided to skip their after lunch class and hang out around the snack machines nearest the guidance councilor’s office. No. They were likely there for the same reason Stiles was there - Lydia.
It was probably the bite. Derek knew Lydia had been bitten by the former alpha. The royal freak out the strawberry blond had had in the cafeteria earlier had probably set off alarm bells and now the two betas were sniffing around (no doubt figuratively and literally) for any hint that the girl’s public screaming and crying fit meant she had finally succumbed to the bite and needed to be urged into Derek’s pack post haste.
Stiles was there because he was worried.
The screaming hadn’t lasted for long. Only about ten seconds, ten seconds which had also been made up of several teachers and students crowding around the girl in worry and shielding her from view. Stiles had tried to get close to the girl himself, of course, but had been shooed away by a distracted looking Mr. Harris.
The screams had stopped just as suddenly as they had started and then Mr. Harris and Allison, the brunette girl’s arm wrapped around her friend’s shoulders, had led a crying Lydia out of the cafeteria.
Just as the first bell - the one signaling ten minutes until the end of lunch hour - rang out Stiles had asked Scott to dump his tray for him, grabbed the stack of papers and his backpack from the table and then had followed after the slow moving trio.
And now he was here, skipping a class he really shouldn’t be skipping, hoping that no curious teachers or staff would walk by and ask what exactly he was doing, and waiting for Lydia to emerge from the councilor’s office. He wanted to see her, wanted to know that she was okay.
In a rush of movement, Boyd stood. Stiles tensed.
The large werewolf started walking purposely down the hall. Behind him, still on the floor and leaning against the wall near the soda machine, Erica was sitting with a phone pressed to her ear.
Boyd stopped in front of Stiles.
The second line lacrosse player straightened in his seat. “Boyd,” he greeted. “How are you? Heard you’re hanging out with Derek now.”
Boyd grinned. “Stay away from Isaac’s house,” he said.
Which was…confusing. Really confusing, to say the least.
“Um,” managed Stiles. “What?”
"Isaac’s house, stay away from it. Derek wants you and Scott to keep away. If we learn anything you two need to know or if there is anything you or Scott need to be in on…we’ll let you know. Until then, we’ve got it handled. Got it?”
No. Stiles didn’t get it. Not at all. He had no idea what Boyd was going on about, what Derek was thinking telling him to deliver such a confusing message.
Isaac’s house? Why would he and Scott care about Isaac’s house?
“Yes,” answered Stiles. “I understand. We’ll stay away.”
Boyd glared down at him, no doubt picking up on the fact that Stiles was outright lying to him.
"Derek says," he reiterated. He said it in a way that implied an order from Derek should mean something to Stiles. Then he nodded once, turned around and headed back towards Erica.
Once the tall werewolf had reached his fellow pack member Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
He hesitated for a second, then scrolled to messages and typed out a text.
I'll pick you up at home, he typed. 9 tonight.
His thumb was hovering over the send button when Mr. Harris’s voice came booming down the hall.
“Excuse me,” snapped the Chemistry teacher, who was facing away from the row of chairs and the office, looking at an oh-so-busted Erica and Boyd. “Shouldn’t you both be in class right now?”
Suppressing a startled squeak at the sound of his least favorite teacher's voice Stiles pressed send, snatched up his book bag and went speeding down the opposite hallway, away from Lydia and the councilor’s office.
Part Two
Author: Harikari
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Eventual Derek/Stiles, Ensemble
Spoilers: Takes place after 2x04, goes AU from there.
Warnings: Violence, some gore, strong language, underage character in a relationship with an of age character, etc.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Written for fun, not profit.
Summary: Beacon Hills is getting stranger and more dangerous by the second. But it's okay, because Stiles has a plan.
Part One
It was lunch time and he and Scott were in the cafeteria, sitting at their usual table.
Scott was frowning and poking at the glob of spaghetti and meat sauce on his tray with a plastic fork. Stiles was sitting across from his friend, trying to ignore the frown and the woe-is-me vibe the werewolf was projecting. His own untouched tray was at his elbow and he was bent over a small stack of papers. He had printed out the first ten or so pages of Grandpa Argent’s bestiary (yes bestiary, not bestiality - he still didn’t want to know what Scott and Allison had been thinking) that morning and was attempting to decipher…something about the confusing jumble of black on white letters, anything about them.
Scott let go of the fork and lifted his arms over his head in a stretch, then hunched forward. He squinted at the sheets of paper and shook his head. “What is that language? Have you figured out anything yet?” He put obvious emphasis on the word ‘anything’.
Stiles glared.
Scott had no right to go all emphasis on him. It wasn’t like he had any answers or bright ideas. Hell, the werewolf hadn’t even bothered to copy the contents of the flash drive they had temporarily stolen from Allison’s grandfather to his own laptop. He’d left all of the figuring out to Stiles.
Which, normally? No big deal. But Stiles had acquired the bestiary on Friday night, after a conversation with Lydia Martin that he had never had the chance to finish and that no doubt left him looking like a total jerk in the girl’s eyes, breaking into and ransacking Principal Argent’s office, and several long and exhausting hours of holding a heavy and paralyzed-from-the-neck-down alpha wolf above water so he wouldn’t meet his end in a high school swimming pool. He had been tired Friday night (or rather very early Saturday morning, which is when he and the others involved in the homicidal lizard incident had finally been able to leave the school). He had barely had enough energy to make it home before dropping into bed.
Likewise, he had spent Saturday and Sunday recuperating from the whole being attacked by a giant lizard and almost drowning to death thing. He hadn’t even been able to work up the gumption to take more than a cursory glance at his History textbook on Sunday night, and there was a quiz fourth period.
As if uncomfortable with the intense glare Stiles was aiming his way, Scott squirmed in his seat. “I just…I’m just wondering. No rush or anything. I was just asking.”
Stiles reminded himself that Scott was under just as much (or more, it could be argued) stress as he was, rolled his eyes and turned back to the pile of papers in front of him. He jabbed a finger at the topmost sheet and tapped it.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”
Scott visibly straightened and leaned closer. “Yeah?” He paused for a second and then, “You’re not just saying that because they use Latin on that Supernatural show with the brothers and in the Harry Potter books, are you? I know there are werewolves and stuff in them but-“
In a gut reaction and completely straight faced, Stiles kicked his friend’s shin.
Scott mouthed an ‘ow’. He reached under the table and rubbed briskly at his leg.
As if I’m stupid enough to assume the bestiary is in Latin just because I saw it on some paranormal television show, he thought and barely managed to hold back an offended snort.
Stiles felt guilty for lashing out, but didn’t dignify his friend’s idiotic question with an answer.
(He also didn’t bother to inform the werewolf that he had actually gotten the idea that the beast index might be in Latin while watching one of his mom’s old Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, which he still played on occasion and which he had had on as background noise while getting ready for school that very morning - he had googled some of the phrases in the text to be sure it was in fact Latin, he hadn’t just assumed it was so because Latin seemed to be the go to language for Buffy and friends when things got strange. Scott didn’t need to know that particular detail, not really).
“See this phrase here? And this one? I searched them both in-between first and second period - they’re definitely Latin. I’m not one hundred percent sure that the entire bestiary is Latin but…it looks similar enough. Not that I’m an expert on languages or anything but…it would make sense.”
Scott nodded and sat back. He had a wary look in his eyes, like he was unsure what exactly he had done to cause the earlier attack on his leg and like he was wondering whether or not Stiles would do it again. “Okay,” he said. “So, Latin. What do we do with that? I mean, we don’t know Latin.”
It was Stiles’ turn to nod. “Yeah, well. I have an idea about that.”
“What?”
“We can ask Allison?”
“What?” The outburst was loud enough that a handful of people, including Jackson and Danny who were sitting two tables away, actually turned to look.
Stiles sighed. “Calm down. We don’t exactly want an audience for this conversation. Look, I know her dad forbade you from seeing her again and that her unhinged hunter grandfather is not only our school’s principal but also made it clear he knows you’re a werewolf but-“
Scott cut him off. “And he actually stabbed me in the stomach.”
“Yeah,” agreed Stiles. “There is that. But I still think Allison is our best bet. She comes from a werewolf hunting family, man. They pushed archery on her at a young age, right? Well if the bestiary is in Latin and the bestiary, like badass archery skills, is something a hunter has to utilize eventually it makes sense that they would teach her that at a young age, too.”
Scott was frowning again and shaking his head but Stiles pressed on anyway. “We can ask her, at least. And we won’t be obvious about it. I’ll even do the asking, you don’t have to do anything or have any contact with her. If she knows the language I’ll slip her a copy of the beast index and-“
“No,” hissed Scott and his voice was quieter than it was earlier but no less intense. Even more intense, maybe. “Stiles, I know you’re just trying to help. I know I want to know what is up with this giant snake or lizard or whatever monster thing just as much as you do, probably more. But I’m not going to mess around with this. I’m not going to have any contact with Allison at all, for now, and neither are you - because for all I know Allison’s grandfather and dad are together on this stabbing me thing. And Allison’s dad knows you know about werewolves and everything else that has happened, Stiles. He knows that where you’re involved I’m involved.”
The lacrosse co-captain trailed off, breathed deep and slow for a few long seconds. Then, “He threatened my mom. I’m not going to risk it. I’m not going to risk her. I’m going to keep my head down until we can figure this out, deal with it.”
And Stiles suddenly felt hurt and more than a little angry. He opened his mouth to speak, a harsh comeback for Scott ready on the tip of his tongue-
There was, abruptly and from out of nowhere, the loud clatter of something meeting unforgiving tile. Stiles whipped his head around and saw Lydia Martin standing at the end of the cafeteria table she had been sitting at with Allison and the others minutes before. She had dropped her lunch tray; a mess of spaghetti sauce and balled up napkins and plastic utensils were scattered on the floor before her.
Almost without thought, Stiles moved to help her clean up the mess.
But before he had even managed to stand, Lydia started screaming bloody murder.
-----
Stiles sighed deeply and squirmed in his seat.
He was sitting on one of the chairs outside of the guidance councilor’s office. A row of empty chairs stretched out to the left of him. He turned that way and down the long hallway, all the way at the end of it where a pair of vending machines stood, could make out the vague figures of Erica and Boyd.
In the half hour or so he had been sitting outside of Ms. Morrell's office the two werewolves had not ventured closer. They had not called out any questions or taunts. But they were lurking for a reason, Stiles was sure of it. It wasn’t a coincidence that two members of Derek’s pack had decided to skip their after lunch class and hang out around the snack machines nearest the guidance councilor’s office. No. They were likely there for the same reason Stiles was there - Lydia.
It was probably the bite. Derek knew Lydia had been bitten by the former alpha. The royal freak out the strawberry blond had had in the cafeteria earlier had probably set off alarm bells and now the two betas were sniffing around (no doubt figuratively and literally) for any hint that the girl’s public screaming and crying fit meant she had finally succumbed to the bite and needed to be urged into Derek’s pack post haste.
Stiles was there because he was worried.
The screaming hadn’t lasted for long. Only about ten seconds, ten seconds which had also been made up of several teachers and students crowding around the girl in worry and shielding her from view. Stiles had tried to get close to the girl himself, of course, but had been shooed away by a distracted looking Mr. Harris.
The screams had stopped just as suddenly as they had started and then Mr. Harris and Allison, the brunette girl’s arm wrapped around her friend’s shoulders, had led a crying Lydia out of the cafeteria.
Just as the first bell - the one signaling ten minutes until the end of lunch hour - rang out Stiles had asked Scott to dump his tray for him, grabbed the stack of papers and his backpack from the table and then had followed after the slow moving trio.
And now he was here, skipping a class he really shouldn’t be skipping, hoping that no curious teachers or staff would walk by and ask what exactly he was doing, and waiting for Lydia to emerge from the councilor’s office. He wanted to see her, wanted to know that she was okay.
In a rush of movement, Boyd stood. Stiles tensed.
The large werewolf started walking purposely down the hall. Behind him, still on the floor and leaning against the wall near the soda machine, Erica was sitting with a phone pressed to her ear.
Boyd stopped in front of Stiles.
The second line lacrosse player straightened in his seat. “Boyd,” he greeted. “How are you? Heard you’re hanging out with Derek now.”
Boyd grinned. “Stay away from Isaac’s house,” he said.
Which was…confusing. Really confusing, to say the least.
“Um,” managed Stiles. “What?”
"Isaac’s house, stay away from it. Derek wants you and Scott to keep away. If we learn anything you two need to know or if there is anything you or Scott need to be in on…we’ll let you know. Until then, we’ve got it handled. Got it?”
No. Stiles didn’t get it. Not at all. He had no idea what Boyd was going on about, what Derek was thinking telling him to deliver such a confusing message.
Isaac’s house? Why would he and Scott care about Isaac’s house?
“Yes,” answered Stiles. “I understand. We’ll stay away.”
Boyd glared down at him, no doubt picking up on the fact that Stiles was outright lying to him.
"Derek says," he reiterated. He said it in a way that implied an order from Derek should mean something to Stiles. Then he nodded once, turned around and headed back towards Erica.
Once the tall werewolf had reached his fellow pack member Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
He hesitated for a second, then scrolled to messages and typed out a text.
I'll pick you up at home, he typed. 9 tonight.
His thumb was hovering over the send button when Mr. Harris’s voice came booming down the hall.
“Excuse me,” snapped the Chemistry teacher, who was facing away from the row of chairs and the office, looking at an oh-so-busted Erica and Boyd. “Shouldn’t you both be in class right now?”
Suppressing a startled squeak at the sound of his least favorite teacher's voice Stiles pressed send, snatched up his book bag and went speeding down the opposite hallway, away from Lydia and the councilor’s office.
Part Two