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chapter 58: it's not the devil at your door Warnings: violence

You can read it on AO3 as well.

[a/n: sorry for the very long wait. Life got in the way. Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you're enjoying the new chapter💖]

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“John, with all due respect, I don’t think you have any idea what you’re dealing with.”

“I’m dealing with two traumatized teenagers, Noshiko.”

Stiles watches the spot on the ley line where his father most likely stands, watches as Jordan puts his head in his hands. The conversation must’ve been going on for longer than he’s awake. They’re all exhausted, Stiles can hear it in their voices.

“I think,” Brett pipes up from where he sits on the kitchen counter, “you’re underestimating Sheriff Stilinski.”

Noshiko makes a small impatient noise. “I think your personal feelings are clouding your judgement.”

“Funny, I could say the same about you.”

“Brett.” Satomi’s voice is calm, but it does have the desired effect of shutting her second in command up. Still, there is anger vibrating through the ley line connected to Brett. It’s not surprising. Although Satomi has always seemingly maintained a neutral balance. This time, however, it feels as if she’s choosing a side – a side Brett does clearly not agree with.

Stiles can’t blame him. He’s not agreeing with Noshiko either, but that’s nothing new. They haven’t really agreed on anything for most of the time. Well, aside from killing him in case he’s going to become a hazard for the people around him. That has been the case only a couple of days ago. Now, however, things are different again. Plus, killing him always comes with the price of killing every single chimera still alive and kicking.

Jordan leans back in his chair. “Locking him up in the Hale Vault is only going to re-traumatise him.” He curls his hands around something. A mug, perhaps, or a glass. If Jordan were alone, it might’ve been a glass of whiskey but with Stiles’ dad, Satomi, and Noshiko around, it’s probably some sort of calming tea.

Stiles wonders if he wishes for something stronger. He certainly would.

Noshiko doesn’t sound happy with that, “if we don’t, we put the whole town at risk.”

“You make it sound like Stiles is some sort of monster,” Brett remarks icily.

“He killed-“

“Enough!” His dad slams his hands on the table. The sound startles Stiles enough to pull away from the ley lines accidentally, returning to the quiet of his bedroom with his heart hammering as if he’s run a marathon – not because he’s scared or surprised. Noshiko has proven more than once that she’s absolutely willing to kill him if the need arises, or perhaps as a precaution. While he would’ve agreed with her a while ago, now, the thought of it only makes him want to rip her head off.

Maybe that’s proof enough of her being right.

“You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin. He whips around, spotting Isaac sitting on a mattress on the floor next to his bed. He’s wrapped in a blanket, wearing a sheepish grin. Stiles stares at him, speechless for a while then he settles back into his pillow. The movement jostled his wound, and he grinds his teeth. With a soft sigh, he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the pain. It feels as if someone set his whole upper body on fire.

Next to him, Isaac shuffles under his covers. “I’m angry too.” Again, he’s silent, and the night grows heavy around them. “She’s got no idea what you had to do down there.”

A tight first curls around his heart. No. She doesn’t know. Not everything, that is. But neither does Isaac. Nobody knows the full story of what happened in Eichen House’s basement. Isaac is aware of most of it, but he’s got no clue about the worst part of the story.

Without replying, Stiles pulls his covers up to his chin, fighting the urge to roll onto his side and hide away from the world for a little while longer. He’s not ready to face it yet, or anyone in it.

-

Tracy screeches as she steps on a broken flashlight in the darkness and loses her footing.

“Quiet,” Theo snaps. There’s an edge to his voice. It’s not quite fear yet, but he’s certainly worried.

Once Stiles is done with Tracy, he’ll deal with Theo. Mates or not, nobody will take away his food ever again. Some lessons clearly need to be taught as early as possible so shit like this will never happen again.

Stiles turns his head to the right. Even if Tracy were as quiet as a statue, he wouldn’t have any issue finding her in complete darkness. The scent of her sheer panic acts like a neon sign.

“Quiet!” Theo orders again, and his voice carries through the dark hallway. “Stiles, stop it.” Red eyes flash in the darkness, darting back and forth as if looking for him. They pass right over him, but his aura doesn’t give him away like it would Kira or perhaps even Noshiko and other foxes. The night is his kingdom. It bends to his will.

Tracy shrieks then hits the ground hard. She makes it almost too easy.

“Miecio!” Theo’s voice is calm, but his scent is spiked with fear now. Is he afraid of him, or what he might do? “You wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at me. I killed Deaton, remember? She didn’t do anything.”

Stiles whips his head around and stares at the vague shape of his boyfriend, his mate. It’s getting easier to see him by the second. He can almost make out his features now. Under normal circumstances, Theo wouldn’t have any issue finding him. But now, Stiles doesn’t want to be found. By anybody. He narrows his eyes, following Theo as he moves to the left as quietly as possible. Away from him. Towards Tracy. He grinds his teeth. “Don’t tell me you’re protecting her.”

Theo’s red eyes snap towards him, and he stops moving. It’s hard to tell if he sees him or merely fixes on a spot in the dark, he assumes to be Stiles. “I’m protecting you.”

“From her?” Stiles scoffs. “Don’t insult me.”

“I’m protecting you from yourself.” Theo takes a step forward. Judging by the groan of pain, he hit one of the orderlies instead of the ground. It doesn’t deter him from moving, much less talking. “I know you’re angry, but-“

Stiles shoots his hand out, curling his fingers around Corey’s throat. “Do you consider me stupid, Theodore?” He tightens his grip, digging his fingertips into the soft skin without looking away from Theo. It would be easy, so very easy. But Corey is innocent in all this. He’s merely following orders. With a sigh, he lets go of the kid. “I’m awfully sorry about this,” he says, and, for what it’s worth, he actually means it, before shoving his hand against Corey’s chest.

A surge of energy rushes through Stiles’ body and hits Corey square in the chest. It sends him flying and crashing straight into Theo.

Stiles chuckles. “Now,” he whispers, finally stepping out of the doorway. “Oh, Tracy.” If only he could hear her heartbeat now. He can only imagine it would match the panic filling all his senses. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” As if she could hide from him. Nobody can. Not in here. However, there is nothing quite as sweet as the taste of hope ripped away.

“Tracy~” he sings. He raises his brows. He can see her now, crouching next to one of the guards, a hand pressed over her mouth. She’s holding out her right hand, claws dripping with venom, probably hoping Stiles is stupid enough to run into her.

Stiles stops on the other side of the body. “Boo,” he whispers and kicks her in the face.

She screams out in pains as she sprawls on the floor.

Could he have used magic? Yes. But this is so much more satisfying.

“Theo, please. Help!”

Stiles sets his jaw. Without hesitation, he grabs her by the hair and slams her into the wall. “I’m done with this.” Done with her dragging Theo into her business. Done with her acting like Theo cares about her. She isn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to rot. “Just because he got you out doesn’t mean you’re going to stay.” He leans closer and places his mouth right next to her ear. “I’m going to get rid of you one way or another.” But not quite yet, first, he is going to have a fun time with teaching her a lesson. Everything would’ve been so much easier for her if she finally realised that Theo isn’t hers to touch.

Something shifts in the darkness, striding closer by the second. Flames lick around the corner and illuminate Theo, staring at him, and Corey, both hands pressed against the wall but now frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Welcome to the party.” That certainly makes everything a lot easier. Smirking, he slams Tracy’s head against the wall and lets go of her, not bothering to wait until she’s crumpled to the ground, whimpering softly. Instead, he returns to his spot by the door, watching in amusement as Corey shuffles towards Theo again. Keeping his distance isn’t the worst idea. There will be a point when even following orders isn’t an excuse for getting to Isaac any longer, and Stiles really doesn’t want to hurt Corey.

Theo reaches out for him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Jordan,” he calls just as the hellhound rounds the corner, “we need your help.” It’s not hard to imagine how much this admission must’ve hurt his ego.

Try as he might, Stiles cannot suppress a bark of laughter. Does Theo truly believe Jordan would follow his orders?

“Stiles,” Jordan breathes, almost surprised to see him unharmed and alive. Perhaps not an unusual reaction after being gone for so long.

“Jay,” Stiles replies with a small nod, “Cerberus.” It’s fascinating to see how Jordan’s face morphs into a nearly expressionless mask. If not for Isaac, Stiles would feel bad for using him like this. However, it isn’t about revenge, it’s about a rescue, and Cerberus is the only person Stiles trusts to get Isaac out of here. Jordan would understand. He will understand. “Bring Isaac to safety. Just you. Nobody touches. Nobody stops you.”

Theo shakes his head. “Jordan…” But he is smarter than to step into a hellhound’s path. All he can do is watch. He clenches his jaw, narrowing his eyes as he’s reduced to stand by, unable to do anything else. As great as Tracy’s panic may be, there is something about Theo’s anger, that’s so much more tempting, something Stiles just can’t stay away from – and he refuses to allow anyone to come in-between them.

Gently, Jordan lifts Isaac into his arms. The werewolf makes a soft pained noise, but he is safe with Jordan – most likely a lot safer than he would be with Stiles. He could leave with him, just walk out of here, and end this nightmare once and for all.

His gaze snaps to Deaton. It’s over.

It’s over.

Stiles curls his hands into fists.

But he’s not done. Not yet anyway.

-

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder.

Stiles startles awake, fist aiming blindly in the direction of the sound.

Luckily, Jordan has quick reflexes. He catches his wrist before his knuckles had the chance to connect with his nose. “Nice aim.” Jordan cocks a brow, studying his face for a few moments before his expression softens and something akin to regret sneaks into his features. He probably should’ve known better than to wake Stiles up like this.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles slumps into the pillows. He is still exhausted, but that’s not what’s keeping him glued to his mattress. It’s the past and the memories. The reality of what happened and what he did. It’s the blood on his hands. It’s the crushing realisation of having gone to far.

It’s also the fucking pain in his chest.

“Josh is here.” Jordan places his hand on the blanket next to Stiles’ arm. “He wants to know if you want to join them.”

Pressing his lips together, Stiles pushes himself into a sitting position although he’d rather burrow deeper into his blanket and hide from everyone and everything forever. He winces at another zap of sharp pain cuts through his chest and back. Stiles notices the twitch of Jordan’s hands, but he seems to know better than to baby him. Turns out having one silver eyes makes for a good death glare.

Stiles clears his throat. “Theo?”

Jordan avoids his eyes.

Stiles drops his gaze to his hands then shakes his head.

Bed sheets rustle as Isaac props himself up. As much as Stiles would prefer to be alone at the moment, Isaac’s presence keeps the panic at bay. His dad joked about the co-dependency, but it was a half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood after he found out Isaac moved into Stiles’ bedroom. The days aren’t even the issue. It’s when the nightmares creep in.

Jordan runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t hide forever.”

-

“Come on, Stiles!” Theo’s frustration is palpable. “You can’t hide forever!”

Oh, but he can. Especially down here where it’s pitch black. Watching Theo getting more and more angry is like getting an early Christmas present. Stiles doesn’t want to miss it for the world. In fact, he’d like to make it worse. He wants him to explode, to taste all that pent-up rage his mate has been holding on to forever.

“Stiles, please.”

“Begging, really?” Stiles laughs softly, watching as Tracy and Corey work their way along the walls, probably to get behind him. It’s not a stupid idea to surround him, but in the end, Stiles can see them while they still have no clue where he is. With Cerberus’ fire gone, they’re back in complete darkness. “Come on, Misu, you’re an alpha now. Begging should be beneath you.”

As expected, Theo’s anger spikes briefly. His short fuse if truly a gift. “And you’re a nogitsune now, everyone is afraid of you.” His tone shifts. The storm of anger turns to a cool breeze. It’s nothing more than a façade. “Yet you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding.” Stiles moves to stand right in front of Theo, brushing his fingers lightly over Theo’s cheek. The simple touch makes him dizzy with want. A soft gasp falls from Theo’s lips. How long have they not touched each other? How long has he been down here? “I’m playing,” he adds in a low voice.

Before he has the chance to get a hold of him, Stiles puts distance between them. He’ s not stupid enough to risk being caught. Real kitsune or not, once Theo’s got him, it would be game over, and he’s not quite ready to end it.

Not until he’s done with Tracy.

Stiles watches her shuffle further down the wall and draws his brows together. It doesn’t seem like they’re trying to surround him.

“You play with your food?” Theo asks, his voice mocking, almost cruel – it’s the same he’s used on Scott whenever they interacted lately. “I thought your mother taught you better than that.”

Stiles whips around. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rage licks at his insides. Stiles curls his hands into tight fists. Nobody is putting his mother into a bad light, not even Theo.

Before he can move, however, the lights come back on. A soft curse falls from his lips, and he shields his eyes. For a moment, it disorients him badly. Blood rushes in his ears.

His muscles ache.

He’s starving.

Badly.

“Tracy, no!” Theo yells.

Without the warning, Stiles would’ve been caught blindsided. This, however, allows him to sidestep her attack. Still, the claws miss him only narrowly, and he nearly falls on his ass. He rights himself the second Tracy attacks him again. There’s blood smeared under her nose and cheek. Her nose doesn’t look quite right either. Her fangs bared in anger. Good thing that anger makes her just a stupid as it does everyone else, so he manages to catch both her wrists easily.

She snarls, trying to free herself.

As luck would have it, strength-wise they’re pretty evenly matched. It’s alphas that will forever be the bane of his existence. Not only can they kill him with a single bite, they also overpower him as if he’s nothing more than an ordinary creature.

Which he most certainly is not.

Grinding his teeth, he kicks Tracy in the stomach. He’s done playing with her. This fucking kanima needs to get lost.

Now.

As she folds in on herself, Stiles lets go of her arms and grabs her head instead.

“No!” Corey’s voice echoes in the hallway.

Footsteps approach rapidly from his left, but it doesn’t matter. Stiles snaps her neck. Hardly anything could be more satisfying. Too bad she’s going to heal from that. Too bad she’ll wake up and continue to be a fucking menace in his life. Maybe he should end it right now. That would spare him a lot of problems in the future.

Theo crashes into him, and it’s like being hit by a wrecking ball. They hit the ground hard. Stiles grinds his teeth together, trying to keep the grunt of pain safely tugged away. Instead, he wedges his arm free and elbows Theo in the face. The impact sends another wave of pain through his arm. The shock, however, startles Theo long enough that Stiles manages to get out from underneath him before he’s able to pin him down.

With narrowed eyes, Theo spits blood on the ground and gets to his feet.

Behind him, Corey disappears into thin air, Tracy slung over her shoulder.

Stiles fixes his boyfriend with a glare. “You’re still protecting her?” How could he? After what she did? Not to him, but to Theo. She nearly got him killed. Her jealousy almost ended the life of the one person she claimed to love.

“I don’t care about what happens to her.” And yet, Theo is shifting into the middle of the hallway, making his intentions absolutely clear. There is no getting past him. He’s helping her get away. “I care about you.” Yet he curls his hands into fists and narrows his eyes. He’s ready to stop him if push comes to shove. An unstoppable force. “And that you can still look at yourself once you’re out of here.”

“How nice of you.” Stiles cocks his head to the side. How far would Theo really go to stop him, is the real question. There was a time when he would’ve hurt him. Not too long ago, Theo was more than willing to use violence to get his way. Things are different now, but how different is Theo when someone defies him for too long?

-

“Sorry,” his dad whispers, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles glances at him in the mirror then back at his chest. The wound is still red and aggressive. He’s still bleeding whenever he’s moving too much, or his bandages are changed. “It’s fine.” Jordan didn’t have any more luck yesterday either. The bandages stick to his skin, tugging on the scabs. He’d prefer if nobody touched it, but with how aggressively red his skin already is, he also doesn’t want to risk an infection. Not with how slowly he’s healing at the moment.

Slow enough, in fact, that people are questioning his intentions. He is trying to heal himself.

But getting run through with the sword of a thunder kitsune is nothing to shake off that easily.

Carefully, he pokes one of the scabs and winces. Yeah, there’s no shot he’ll risk an infection.

“Should we call someone?” his dad inquires with furrowed brows.

The things Stiles would give to see his dad relax. But until he’s fully healed, and the Dread Doctors are dealt with, there’s not exactly much he can do to help that. “Who, Deaton?” his tone is mocking, bit his dad’s glare shuts him up quickly. Although his father understands that Stiles and Theo had to do what was necessary, he’s still the sheriff of this town. “I don’t think so. I’m healing just a little slower than usual.” And that’s more annoying than something to worry about.

His father sighs. “I don’t know anything about this.” As it is, he isn’t the only one. Stiles is pretty sure nobody here knows what the hell is going on either – and the only people who might have an inkling are either wanting to kill him or dead. That’s not exactly comforting.

There’s also Morrell, but the last time they ran into each other, she wanted to kill him. So, he doesn’t exactly trust her either.

When his dad holds up the bandage, Stiles raises his arms compliantly. He just wants to go back to bed and sleep, or at the very least rest his eyes.

“You should stay home for the rest of the week,” his dad muses as he carefully wraps the bandage around Stiles’ chest. Only someone attuned to the supernatural world would suggest that resting for a week is enough to deal with a wound like this. A few months ago, Stiles would’ve easily died like a normal person after someone drove their whole fucking katana through his chest.

Now, he’s merely sleeping it off.

“You know,” Stiles says in a soft voice, “I do have enough credits to graduate early.” Attending summer school to be a good friend to Scott helped wit that.

His dad purses his lips. “No.” That doesn’t come as a surprise. His health and education are two things he’s never not extremely serious about.

“I can’t go to college anyway.” They don’t even know if he’s able to leave the nemeton’s territory at all, but they’re pretty sure he won’t be able to stay away for as long as any college would require him to. Once his grandparents are too old to travel, Stiles is never going to see them again.

His dad pulls the bandage tighter almost passive-aggressively. “What happened-“

“Dad, I’m a walking and talking time-bomb.” Stiles locks eyes with him in the mirror, and he knows he’s won the argument before it really began. “I’m a nogitsune now. I need to get a handle on this, or I’ll accidentally turn my school into a warzone because I’m in a bad mood. I can’t go back and play lacrosse like nothing’s changed. I can’t be that irresponsible.” And he most certainly won’t be. He was flying off the handle bad enough that he- Stiles shakes his head. Best not to think about that. Besides, there is still the issue with the Dread Doctors. If they haven’t gotten what they came for, there’s always the possibility they’ll come back for him again. A school full of students didn’t stop them before, and it’s not going to stop them now.

“I just want you to have a normal life.” He secures the bandage and drop his hands.

Stiles hates seeing him like that. He hates that his father has always tried his best to keep Stiles’ life as normal as humanly possible. Ever since his mother passed away. It has never been normal, but they found their new normal. They’ll be able to do that again. “I could start working for you,” Stiles offers with a small grin. He’s wanted to become an FBI agent, but with the trajectory his life is going, becoming a deputy might be the next best thing.

His dad offers him a small smile in return. “We’ll figure something out, kiddo.”

-

“Let’s figure this out, okay?” Theo’s new reasonable side is seriously starting to piss him off. He is burning with anger, and yet he’s just standing there. Again. Trying to defuse the situation.

Stiles wants to rip his head off. Instead, he moves his fingers in a beckoning gesture, and the four broken flashlights raise into the air, lifted by the few shadows Stiles has access to. “Oh yeah?” He’s not interested in talking this out. He’s interested in getting rid of Tracy for good. Sighing deeply, he points at a flashlight. Without a second of hesitation, it shoots directly at Theo’s face.

His eyes narrow as he swats it away like an annoying housefly. “Stop it.”

But Stiles doesn’t. “Or what?” he asks as the next flashlight rushes towards Theo.

Again, he slaps it away. “I said, stop.”

Stiles grins and hurls the next one at him. “And I said, or what?” There’s got to be a way to push Theo over the edge. He needs him to move out of his way before Corey gets too far away. He might be able to deal with Theo by himself as long as Theo won’t be able to grab him, but there’s no way in hell he can deal with the whole rescue squad.

Not right now, that is.

Not when he’s weak.

Theo bares his teeth in a snarl. “Stiles, stop.”

“Make me,” Stiles taunts before sending the last flashlight in his direction.

Finally, Theo breaks into a run, his anger boiling over, becoming stronger than his logic. Because he knows what he’s doing is stupid. He’s got to know; Stiles is having the upper hand the very moment he’s giving him an opening.

Stiles can see the realization on his face the moment he’s twisting away and out of reach. He doesn’t wait around to bask in Theo’s frustration. Instead, he breaks into a run. He doesn’t know where all his friends are, but he can pinpoint the ones he’s worried about the most – Theo, behind him in the hallway, running but not gaining on him. Brett, standing guard by the showers, the easiest way in and out, and then there’s Peter, waiting in the tunnels.

Corey hasn’t reached Brett yet, but Stiles is running out of time.

He’s doubling his efforts, rushing past mostly paralyzed guards. The chimeras didn’t even try to be sneaky on their way in. That makes it a lot easier to catch up, and thanks to Jordan burning every line of mountain ash he came across, nothing else is stopping him. Nothing at all.

As he runs, Stiles breaks every light he can find. The hallway plunges into darkness, reinvigorating him with every step he takes.

Somewhere in front of him, Corey gasps.

Gotcha.

Stiles gathers his strength and make a sweeping motion towards the ground. It takes a few seconds until the rumbling starts and a couple more until the ground is breaking apart right in front of his feet.

And more importantly, right underneath Corey’s feet.

The chimera yelps when he loses his footing in the darkness. Only a heartbeat later, Tracy tumbles into view.

“What the-“

“Jackson!” Theo yells. “Stop him. Stop him!”

Brett is moving now. Seems like he’s not been guarding the showers alone. Great. Then again, who is he told to stop? Guards, or Stiles.

Traitors. The lot of them.

Stiles brings his hands up, using the shadows to hurl the rubble towards the remaining lights in front of him.

They’re plunged into complete darkness just as Brett and Jackson round the corner.

Stiles heaves a breath and moves out of the doorway. Fuck. He was so fucking close. There’s no way to- Stiles blinks. But there is. There is a way to kill her quietly and get some power back. After all, she doesn’t need to be conscious to be terrified.

Two sets of footsteps come to a stop near the other gate. “What the hell?” Jackson repeats, sounding utterly confused. “I just saw him. He was right there.” Unbeknownst to him, he is pointing directly at Stiles. Being utterly invisible will never cease to amaze him. Werewolves aren’t usually this easy to fool.

Still, that’s his cue to move. Slowly, he tiptoes towards the wall and inches his way towards Tracy. Their confusion might be the last chance he’ll have to get to her.

“No,” Corey breathes, sitting on the ground and holding his ankle. “He’s here. He can vanish in the dark.” As he moves, a small wince of pain echoes in Stiles’ ears like a gunshot.

Hunger and guilt twist in his stomach. Corey wasn’t meant to get hurt, but following orders means that you could end up as collateral damage. The world isn’t fair, not even to someone as innocent as Corey.

Stiles crouches down next to Tracy. He places a hand over her mouth, forcing the darkness to swallow her up too. All that’s going to give them away now would be a sound.

“Tracy.” Theo comes to a stop somewhere behind him. “He’s going to kill Tracy.”

Heart hammering in his chest, Stiles places his other hand at her temple. There are no defences keeping him out. He sinks into her mind as if swallowed up by the ocean.

“She’s-“ Brett cuts off.

“She was right there!” Jackson sounds more confused than worried as Stiles makes his way into the swirling of world of Tracy’s nightmares – of the Dread Doctors and what they did to her, of her father’s death, all the other night terrors that used to plague her.

Of Theo looking at Stiles.

Of Theo sending her away.

Of Theo in his bed, unresponsive and fighting for his life.

Her fault.

Stiles grinds his teeth. That was her fucking fault, and it’s going to be the last thing she’ll ever see. He digs his fingers into the nightmare, dragging it up to the forefront of her mind, twisting it, showing her how truly alone she really was.

Because that’s the thing she’s most afraid of.

Loneliness.

Of everyone she cares about leaving her forever. A room full of people with no one to turn to, a pack, a family that doesn’t care if she’s dying right next to them.

“Phone!”

The terror tastes exquisite. Panic like that, panic stemming from love rejected, from being left behind is something he could get used to.

“Phone, someone get a fucking phone.”

And the best thing about it? She’ll never wake up from it. The last moments of her life will be filled with everything she’s utterly afraid of.

How fitting.

Bright light rips him out of the nightmare.

Stiles blinks, raises a hand to protect his eyes.

Theo crashes into him again, ripping him off Tracy. It feels like what Stiles can only imagine to be hit by a wreaking ball. The impact makes his bones ache. Unfortunately, this time Theo is also prepared for Stiles’ trying to hit him. He grabs his arm in a painful grip. “Don’t,” Theo warns in a low growl.

But Stiles has one hand free. He slams it to the ground. The nemeton reacts faster this time. Roots curl around Theo’s ankles and rip him away before slamming him straight into Jackson, whose phone clatters to the ground. It lands flashlight down, taking part of the light with it.

Brett’s phone is still directed at him, and he’s standing only a foot away. “Don’t even think about it.” His stance is clear. Brett will fight him, no questions asked. He’s come a long way since their last run in down in the tunnels.

“You people really need to stop telling me what I can and can’t do.” Stiles jumps to his feet.

Brett huffs. “Go on, throw your rocks at me. You can’t kill me with your powers.”

“Oh, but I can.” Stiles smiles, cocking his head to the left as he pulls the roots back towards him. “And I have.” And he will again.

Just not yet.

Now, he needs to leave. Preferably fast and before the werewolves manage to pin him down. He is going to walk out of this place with his head held high or not at all.

Stiles flicks his wrist, and four phones are grabbed by shadows and pulled towards him. Four, but it’s only five people. He looks at the phones, drawing his brows together. Theo didn’t bring his phone. He’s also wearing sweatpants. Someone is prepared to hunt him down as a wolf if he has to.

Of course, Theo isn’t about to give up easily.

Fun.

Stiles crushes their phones and throws the remnants back at them. By the sound of it, his aim wasn’t off.

Now, to distract them. A little bit of strife can never hurt anyone. All he has to do is-“

“I’m going to fucking strangle him,” Jackson snaps, fidgeting with something right next to his left eye.

It takes Theo a second to react, but he grabs his brother by the throat and slams him into the cold stone wall. “Touch him, and I’ll rip your head off.”

Never mind.

With anger issues running so deep in the family, Stiles doesn’t have to do anything. No wonder he’s so drawn to all of them, and especially Theo. Theo’s anger, his rage, it’s like crack. If they weren’t mates already, Stiles would’ve guessed they were destined to be anyway.

Brett growls in annoyance. “Guys, you know-“

“Don’t start, Prep School,” Jackson snarls. “You don’t get to act all high and mighty just because Satomi had pity on the poor little orphan.”

That snaps Brett to attention. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take much, but with how aggressive Jackson and Theo are, this fight works without much of his input. Good. Makes it a lot easier for him to slip out unnoticed.

Stiles grabs Corey by the back of his collar and pulls him to his feet. “Time to go,” he whispers, watching as the three guys barely resist to jump each other’s throat. Maybe they’re finally getting it out of their systems so their childish bickering will stop. “It’s gonna get ugly soon.” Too bad, Stiles has to leave. He would’ve preferred to stick around and watch everything blow up, but alas…

“You fuckin-“

“What?” Brett taunts, “you fucking what, Theodore. Speak your mind.”

Stiles doesn’t hear the reply, if there even is one. Instead, he slips into the showers and ushers Corey out of Eichen and into the tunnels. His second least favourite place on this godforsaken earth.

Corey drops to the ground with a wince and crouches down to hold his ankle.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles says, and he means it. The kid wasn’t supposed to get hurt. “Wait here. I’m sure the others will come soon.”

Sitting down, Corey frowns at him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Nice is debatable, but in comparison to the others, Stiles supposed he’s right. “You didn’t stand in my way… at least not out of your own free will.” He shrugs and turns away. Time is a limited resource, one he’s not planning on wasting any longer, not even for Corey.

Sighing, he hurries down the corridor in the direction of Peter. He’s not sure who is stationed at the other exits, and although Peter may be strong, Stiles is pretty sure he’s his best bet of getting out of here before his influence over the others is completely gone.

Whoever decided to put Jackson and Brett together wasn’t exactly a genius. No wonder Stiles is usually the one making the plans.

“I know you’re here,” Stiles calls, slowing down as his eyes dart around the intersection. He has absolutely no intention of getting jumped by Peter Hale so close to freedom. “You might as well come out now.” After all, he can’t evade what he cannot see.

“My, my.” Peter chuckles. “So angry.” Slowly, he’s sauntering around the corner, placing himself in the middle of the intersection with his hands in his pockets.

Stiles curls his into fists. Peter seems almost bored and not the least bit concerned about Stiles getting past everyone on his own. “You’re alone?” Stiles asks, forcing himself to relax his shoulders. “Are you that full of yourself?” To be honest, he wouldn’t put it past him.

“You’d be surprised what a little family time can change.” Peter’s smile is unpleasant as during his worst days.

And Stiles doesn’t trust it or the fact that he’s all alone down here. That just doesn’t seem right. Loyalty to his family or not, Peter is the one most likely to let him walk away if it benefits him in some way.

“Get out of my way.”

“Unfortunately, I was told not to let you pass.” Peter is standing his ground, and with how narrow the tunnels are, getting around him might become an actual challenge. The thing is, if Peter doesn’t move to ensure Stiles isn’t turning the other way either.

He narrows his eyes. “What do you want?” because this is Peter Hale, and Peter Hale always wants something.

His smile broadens, and Stiles only barely resist the urge to step away when Peter closes in. “Your anger.” Peter raises his hands as if to grab Stiles’ face but thinks better of it. All that rage holds so much raw power, and you’re wasting it on my son’s incredibly uninteresting plaything.”

Stiles stiffens and curls his hands into fists. “What?” he asks through gritted teeth

“Oh, she hates you.” Peter leans in and lowers his voice. “Every day, she was sitting in his home, hoping you’d rot somewhere. She never wanted you to be found, Stiles.” Every single word is a match struck, slowly burning away the threads holding Stiles together. “And then,” Peter continues, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, “the worst part, the utmost insult, Theo brought her here. Not to knock out those guards, oh no. She was his failsafe.”

Footsteps echo in the corridor, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, watching Jackson and Theo rush towards them at breakneck speeds.

Peter puts his mouth right next to Stiles’ ear. “She was supposed to paralyze you in case you lost your mind.” A chuckle ripples through his body. “Theo didn’t trust you, so he-“ Peter makes sure to lower his voice even further “-brought-“ and yet every single word feels like a godforsaken punch in the gut “-her.”

Stiles turns around fully, curling his hands into fists.

Without a second of hesitation, Jackson yanks Theo to a stop. “What did you do?”

Stiles’ gaze is locked on Theo. Angry churns in his stomach, spreading its uncomfortable heat throughout his whole body until there is nothing else left.

“I was told not to harm him,” Peter replies as he steps away from him. “I happen to be formidable at improvising.”

Stiles reaches a hand towards the shadows. There is terrible lighting down here, yet enough for him to vanish completely. Still, there is plenty to use to teach Theo his lesson once and for all. He pulls his hand back, dragging six shadowy throwing stars into the light.

“Do you- uh.” Jackson stops himself, glancing from Theo to the throwing stars and back again. “Are they real?”

Theo merely scoffs. “He’s a nogitsune.” The idiot might have not been said, but it’s very clearly heard.

Idiot, indeed.

Stiles throws the first star.

Although Theo seems to believe all of this is merely a hallucination, he moves his hand to swat it away like he’s previously done with the flashlight – unlike those, however, the throwing star buries itself in the back of Theo’s hand, drawing very real blood. A gasp of pain falls from his lips. For a moment, he stares at his hand, watches the thin line of blood forming on his wrist. He grinds his teeth, blue eyes narrowing dangerously as they lock with Stiles.

Rage.

Finally.

“Fine,” he snarls, pulling the star out of his hand. “Have it your way, little fox.” Blood drops into the dust at his feet before his skin closes up.

Stiles raises his brows and snaps his fingers, dissolving the stars in front of him.

“Theo, don’t fall-“

“Stay out of this,” Theo snaps without as much as a glance at his brothers. “Get the others and get out of here.” For merely a second, Theo looks at Peter. “You too. This is personal.”

While Peter is listening to Theo, Jackson doesn’t seem convinced. “Listen, Theo. This is a terrible idea.” He puts a hand on Theo’s shoulder and watches Peter as he all but saunters over to them. He couldn’t pretend to be more unbothered if he tried, yet, merely a moment before he passes Theo, he shakes his head. The movement is so small, Stiles would’ve never noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it.

“No,” Theo snarls in response to something Stiles didn’t hear. “I want you both to leave.”

And they do, even if only reluctantly.

Theo doesn’t move, but his claws spring free with a soft snick. “Not exactly how I imagined our reunion to be.”

“That makes two of us.” Stiles crosses his arms behind his back and smiles, head cocked slightly to the left. “I wonder whose fault that is.” After all, Theo came here not only disrespecting but also insulting him by bringing Tracy along like she’s never done anything wrong in her life ever – like she’s never done anything to them.

Red bleeds into Theo’s eyes. “Your little game ends here.” Without wasting any more time, Theo charges at him.

Predictable.

Stiles avoids him at the last second. Smirking, he dips his hand into the shadows again. A rush of power courses through his as the darkness bends to his will and around his fingers to create a slim chain. Stiles grabs it with both hands and wraps it around Theo’s throat. A snarls fills the silence of the corridor as Stiles yanks him back.

Theo’s breath hitches. His hands fly up to grab the chain, but for a moment, Stiles is stronger. “You know,” he breathes, pressing his mouth against Theo’s ear, “you should just give up.”

“On you?” Theo makes an odd sound in the back of his throat. “Over my dead body.”

Stiles lets go of the chain as if it burned him and steps away from Theo. His chest is suddenly too tight, his heart at least two sizes to big. He opens his mouth, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The chain dissipates.

“Miecio.” Theo raises his hands. His movements are so unbelievably slow – like he’s dealing with a caged animal.

And in some ways, perhaps he does.

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t want you to die.” The words come out broken and angry. His heart hurts, and he wants to punch Theo until his knuckles bleed.

“Really?” Theo’s lips quirk into a grin. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” He moves closer, one step at a time. So dreadfully slow. The grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

Stiles’ body goes cold.

Theo doesn’t trust him.

But he trusted Tracy.

The rage returns like a tidal wave, drowning Stiles, consuming him. He rushes forward, slamming into Theo at full speed. It’s like running into a brick wall. But the anger numbs his pain. They’re crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Stiles!” Theo bares his teeth, sharp, a death sentence. It’s one bite, that could kill him. Maybe even less. “Snap out of it.” He reaches for his arms.

But Stiles gets his hands on him first. He grabs Theo’s face and straddles him, slamming his head against the unforgiving stones once then twice. “Fuck you,” he spits. The soft groan, the pain thrumming under Theo’s skin – it’s like a drug. “Fuck you.” He could’ve already been out of here, but Theo had to make it complicated. He had to kill Deaton and, worst of all, he had to bring Tracy to stop him. Not only did he think that she could beat him, out of everyone, he chose the one person disrespecting Stiles and their relationship – and he’s not going to allow that again.

Stiles digs his fingers into Theo’s skin, almost blind with rage. “And you call yourself my mate? His eyes burn, tears prick at their corners. He’s been kidnapped, starved and experimented on.

And Theo allowed her back.

“You disgust me.”

Theo’s grips around his hips tightens as Stiles forces his way into his head. Another soft groan falls from his lips, one that might have very well be his name.

Stiles hits a wall in Theo’s mind. He didn’t expect this to be easy, not at all, but this one makes his head spin. Stiles closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Let me in,” he whispers, locking eyes with Theo again, and presses his thumb to the corner of his mouth. His stomach flutters as somewhere, deep inside him, the desire to kiss and hold Theo takes root. He’s missed him, desperately. His body craves his touch, his warmth so much more than everything else.

There.

The flash of an image. The woods. A bridge.

His sister’s death.

Stiles grinds his teeth and latches onto it, hooks his fingers into the crack to pry it open. “Let me in.”

“Please,” Theo growls, but the sound is weak, almost soft. “Miecio, please.” Pain swims to the surface. Emotional pain. The one Theo loves so much.

Stiles gets it. He really does. It’s beautifully raw and nearly overwhelming, especially as Theo’s defences finally break open.

Another pained groan falls from Theo’s lips, but he’s stubbornly fighting back and sinks his claws into Stiles’ sides.

He hisses in pain.

Bastard.

The image flickers again, but Theo isn’t the only one who’s stubborn. Stiles pushes harder against his mental barriers, refusing to be forced out again – and then everything around him shifts into focus.

He’s standing on the bridge, looking down at Tara pleading for her life. She’s dying. Slowly and alone because Theo doesn’t care.

Or rather, he didn’t.

The little boy next to him is void of any feelings but pure hatred. He couldn’t care less about his sister’s death. Things are different now. The image flickers without Stiles’ doing. Little Theo is gone, replaced by Theo as he is now – damaged and unable to help. He is trying, however, pounding his fists against an invisible wall.

But there’s no way through.

No way to help—

Stiles blinks. There is Tara, dead in the water, his biggest regret. Next to her are the Dread Doctors, each of them holding one person.

Stiles, Jackson, and Peter.

After his sister’s death, Theo’s biggest fear remains the same; losing his family all over again.

“Stiles…”

He blinks again. The image in front of him flickers. What is he doing? What was the thinking? Theo would never hurt him. He’d never break his trust. Why- No. No. This is all wrong. This isn’t what he meant to do.

He’s hurting Theo over nothing.

Stiles pulls back and lets go of Theo, nearly throwing himself off him in his haste to get away. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, reaching out but hesitant to touch as Theo rolls onto his side, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “I’m- Theo, Misu, I- I didn’t- I’m sorry. I-“ didn’t mean to do that? Didn’t know what came over me? But he does. He knows the answer to that very question. Rage. Jealousy. The simple fact that he believed Theo disrespected him.

And Peter’s words finally made him snap.

“Theo, I-“

“Mom. Mom, no!”

Sharp, raging hot pain burns in his chest. Stiles opens his mouth, but no sound escapes him as he blinks down at the katana coated in his own blood sticking out of his chest.

-

“I’m going to kill her.”

“And that, dear brother, is why you need a babysitter around the clock.”

Theo glares at Jackson but doesn’t stop his pacing. His shoulders have been one rigid line ever since Stiles’ dad dropped him off here. Theo didn’t act particularly surprised about the early visit. He even had Stiles’ favorite breakfast ready at this ungodly hour in the morning. They didn’t even try to hide that they’ve planned this.

That, at least, means his dad stayed in contact with Theo despite Stiles avoiding him after what happened in Eichen.

Huffing, Theo all but throws himself onto the couch and puts his head on Stiles’ lap. The way he is able to bounce back from everything – the way he trusts Stiles so much more than Stiles does himself – it’s almost too much.

Stiles swallows around the heart lodged in his throat. “Comfortable?” he asks, trying to sound casual, like he’s joking, but his voice is quiet and brittle.

Enough so that Theo studies his face with knitted brows before he smirks at him, “always.”

Jackson groans. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather be in school right now.”

“Why aren’t you?” Stiles asks as Jackson slaps Theo’s legs for some room.

His brother doesn’t fail to respond with a kick before scooting up a little higher.

“Because he-“ Jackson points at Theo without looking at him “- is a homicidal maniac, and you are the most unstable person I’ve ever met.”

Theo scoffs. “Why do I get flack when everyone in here killed someone?”

Jackson shoots him a sharp look.

Stiles pushes Theo off and gets to his feet.

Theo’s eyes widen slightly as he sits up. “Babe—”

“Don’t.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“I said don’t!” Stiles has never been able to handle insults very well, but on a normal day, he was able to wrap the insults up with a neat little bow to obsess over at a later time. “Don’t fucking tell me who I am, okay?”

Jackson eyes him warily, not moving from his spot on the couch. He won’t even give them the illusion of privacy.

Narrowing his eyes, Theo all but launches himself over the back of the couch. Although being smaller than Stiles, he seems to be towering over him. “You want me to call you a murderer instead? A monster?”

Stiles balls his hands into fists. “Don’t try to take away my accountability, jackass.” His heart is pounding in his chest as his anger rises like a tidal wave.

“You killed Tracy,” Theo shoots back without a second of hesitation. “Is that what you want to hear?” He sounds like it didn’t matter when it most certainly does.

It wasn’t self-defense. Not this time.

With Tracy, it was murder.

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “I killed her in a fit of jealous rage.” Who knows what else could put him in a state like that? He’s a ticking time bomb.

“It’s kind of hot when you say it like that,” Theo smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m related to you,” Jackson mutters as he gets to his feet. “Anyone want a drink?” He points in the direction of the kitchen.

For a moment, Stiles stares at him. Yeah, sure, how could they ever be related. More so to clear his head than as a response. “Was it still hot when I tried to kill you?”

“Not really, no.” Theo cocks his head to the side almost contemplatively. “But I nearly killed you once too. I’d say we’re even.”

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “If you want to be technical about it,” he remarks icily, crossing his arms over his chest, “I almost killed you three times already.”

Theo huffs out a breath. “The time you threw me across the room hardly counts.”

“I should’ve stayed in London,” Jackson mutters as he wanders into the kitchen, shaking his head.

“This isn’t funny,” Stiles snaps.

“I know.”

“Then stop making light of this!” Stiles curls his hands into fists again and presses his arms tightly against his chest. He wants to throw something. He wants to hit something, someone. Theo, more specifically.

Theo stares at him for a moment, lips pressed together then he lets out a breath. “I’m not.”

“Trust me, Stilinski,” Jackson chimes in, tossing Theo a water bottle which he catches effortlessly, “we’re all taking this very seriously.” Raising his brows, he offers Stiles one as well.

Stiles can’t help but think of his babcia for a moment, who strongly believes that a good herbal tea can cure everything. Sighing, he takes the bottle and sits down on the edge of the dining table – if not to drink it, then at the least to give his hands something to do. He fidgets with the label, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted mentally. The urge to hide in his room returns in full force, and all he can do now is try not to shrink into himself.

Scrunching his brows together, Stiles rubs his chest. The pressure on the not fully healed wound helps grounding him.

“Does it still hurt?” Theo asks in a soft tone.

Stiles only nods. It’s been a week since Noshiko tried killing him, and he struggled to heal for the first couple of days. His body took over in the end. Now, the only mark on his body is the one on his chest. Everything else is gone, even Donovan’s bite. He’s hated and loved his scars, but in the end, they were proof of everything he’s endured – they made this carbon-copy of his body his very own, they made him feel human.

They’re gone now, and Stiles feels like a stranger to himself.

Theo sets the bottle of water on the table next to him. “Babe,” he all but whispers and cups his jaw, gently forcing Stiles to look at him, “I know you’d prefer to blame yourself for the rest of eternity, but I’m not going to. Things like that happen.”

Scoffing, Jackson sits down on the table next to him.

Stiles quirks a brow. “You mean a lot of people try to kill their significant other?”

“You were turned into a nogitsune hardly an hour before killing Tracy,” Jackson reminds him, twisting the cap of his water bottle as he stares out the window. “Losing control is kind of an initiation ritual for supernatural creatures. All your senses are heightened, your instincts crank your emotions up to a hundred – even Theo struggled to adjust to turning into an alpha, and he is still technically human.”

Technically.

Believing them is easy, hiding behind their words is not. Stiles swallows and looks everywhere but Theo’s face. “It’s no excuse.”

“No,” Jackson agrees.

Theo shoots him a look. “But we did learn what triggers you, so, we know what to avoid for now.”

“Hitting on your boyfriend for example, which is a mystery to me anyway.” Jackson smirks at Theo, clearly satisfied with himself.

“Killing your food,” Theo continues, not deigning the dig with a reaction. “Speaking ill of your mother.”

Under normal circumstances, Stiles wouldn’t have reacted badly to Theo implying his mother didn’t raise him well. Theo liked his mother, a lot. There were days when they hung out in the kitchen and watched her bake or cook or just drank hot chocolate together. During her stays at the hospital, Theo constantly kept asking if she’s okay and when she’d be coming home, and he’d be there on the days they’d pick her up. Theo never even spoke badly about his dad, and he’s given him a hard time.

Jackson grimaces, “don’t go around insulting people’s mothers. You’re asking to get jumped.”

Stiles presses his lips together to hide his smile.

Judging by Theo narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, he’s probably failing miserably. “Glad you think this is funny.” He squeezes Stiles’ cheeks for a moment before smiling himself. Genuine, soft. He leans down to brush their lips together.

And that’s almost all it takes for Stiles’ heart to nearly combust.

“We’ll figure this out,” Theo whispers.

Stiles nods, slowly, and buries his face in his chest.

#*s:steo

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