in which stiles is exploring the ruins of the supposedly haunted hale house, where the distant howls people’ve been reporting end up leading to a giant, horrifyingly skinny chained up dog.
“oh my god,” stiles says, and fumbles to free him instinctively, before he realizes. “wait, wait, don’t go anywhere. i’m coming right back, okay? with like, help, and food.”
but the dog’s still barely moving, even now.
just pawing at the edge of the circle around him, and drawing back like he’s been shocked.
one of those electric pet gates, maybe. but no way those are meant to be used like this, god. there’s barely room to fully turn around, for a dog this size. even just stretching looks like it’d be challenging.
“how does it work, huh?” stiles says, and reaches out, feels for a collar.
the whole time, the dog’s, like, shaking.
“no collar,” stiles says, for the benefit of no one. “what is it then, like a chip?”
and good luck getting scott’s boss to come and do surgery right now. in the dark, in the ruins of the rumored-to-be haunted hale house.
yeah, who’d turn down that offer?
okay, plan B. there’s a receiver, right? there’d have to be. underground, to mark the boundary.
it’s a weirdly perfect-looking circle, now that stiles squints down at it. like, not lopsided at all, for a bunch of dirt that’s been poured out in a ring. and it looks poured, it looks like ashes.
a chill goes all down his spine for a second.
“that’s not ashes,” stiles says, just to hear his own voice out loud. just to have something else to slightly distract him. “it’s not, and that’s gonna be my defense if i end up needing it. okay! fivefourthreetwo…one, go time.”
he digs blindly for a couple seconds. dares himself to look back down.
the circle’s gone. like, there’s not a single trace of it.
which’ll probably only make digging up the boundary even harder, now that there’s nothing marking the spot on top of it. great job, stiles!
but when he steps back a few feet, squinting, trying to will the sight of it back into his mind, the dog follows him.
“that worked?!” stiles says, looking to the spot again, and the dog, who looks better already. like, a million times healthier, somehow. “i guess you just have to disturb it, huh? and that, like, blocks the frequency.”
it doesn’t really make sense. but whatever, he’ll come back and solve that later.
or maybe the dog just like, fought through the pain, and crossed it. just to stop stiles getting even more freaked out.
stiles holds his palm out, lets the dog sniff it appraisingly. only realizing too late that his hands probably smell like dirt right now, maybe with a side of metal.
the dog’s way ahead of him, anyway, speeding in circles around him, suddenly super-energized.
then he settles back down, dipping comfortably against stiles’ side.
