After he'd finished up his (and Sookie's and most of Arlene's) side work, Stiles had every intention of going home.
Unfortunately, his feet had other intentions and steered him towards the road out of town. He was so tired, it took him a few minutes to realise that he wasn't walking in the right direction and as soon as he did, he made to turn back. A wave of nausea struck him and his stomach twisted in a painful way. When he took a step, a pounding started in his head. The sounds around him seemed to amplify until every whisper of wind and hum of the cicadas became a yell.
Stiles' groaned, having no choice but to obey the pull. In the past, whenever he'd felt drawn to a location it had been milder, only building to painful levels if he ignored it. Whatever this was, it had to be big.
He walked, wary of shadow hopping to an unknown location, until his legs were burning. The pain had faded to a dull ache but it was still there, along with the ever present weight in the pit of his stomach. As he drew closer, he swore he could hear words being spoken around him in a soft repetition but they were too faint to make out clearly.
Eventually the pull took him off the road and into thick trees. He caught a glimpse of a car parked on the grass before he was completely enveloped in the mossy trunks around him.
I am so going to get eaten by a gator
Despite his concern about predators, Stiles shifted to his fox form. It was easier to navigate the unfamiliar, unwieldy terrain in his smaller body, especially with the addition of his night vision. He picked his way through the brush, before reaching a spot where the trees thinned out once again to form a clearing. At the sight of it, the pulling stopped.
Okay, why am I here?
He took a few steps forward, getting a clearer view of the space. There was an old broken down bus parked off to one side and a fire burning in the centre, with two figures sitting beside it. It took him a moment to recognise one as Tara and he felt concern stir inside of him. What was she doing?
The other person was an older bald woman, hunched over as she fiddled with something.
“What's that for?” Tara asked.
“Give me your hand.” The woman told her.
“Why?”
"Why, why, why? Why's it have to be in the woods? Why's it have to be before dawn? Why 799.95? Why, why, why? You think knowing the answers will save you? Shut up and give me your hand.”
Tara reluctantly held out her hand and Stiles wrinkled his nose as he watched the other woman spit into her palm.
“You nasty bitch!” Tara recoiled
“That's cleaner than anything you've ever touched. Hold it on the fire. Keep it there. Angelica root and spit. A lot stronger than holy water. You got poison oozing out your pores. You live near a highway?”
“No.”
“Cook with a microwave or talk on a cell phone?”
“Who doesn't?”
“I don't. All that pollution and technology, that's how demons travel. That's why I stay away out here in the woods, away from civilization. Rub it on you face.”
Stiles had to suppress the urge to growl and his protective instincts urged him to intervene, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He sank lower into the grass, watching as Tara did as she was told before being handed a small bottle to drink from.
“Jesus, what the hell is it?” Tara demanded, spluttering a little at the taste.
“Snake juice.”
“It's made from snakes?”
“No. it snakes down in you, coils around that evil and rips it out. All of it. Every last drop.”
This time Stiles didn't contain his growl, glaring with all the intensity a tiny fox could manage. Once Tara had downed the ‘snake juice’, the woman guided her to lie down and lit a smudge stick, beginning to slowly circle her.
It didn’t take long for whatever was in the bottle to take effect. Tara started to tremble, her body jerking in pain as she released a stream of whimpers.
“Spit, smoke, root. Cleanse the body. Cleanse the soul.” The woman crouched beside Tara, wafting the smudge stick over her as she spoke. “Snake, seek, search, find. Bring it to the light. The light.”
“Fuck, my stomach.”
“It's angry. It's digging its claws so it can hold on. Don't you fight back. Let your body be the battleground. You let that demon destroy itself.”
“I feel sick.” Tara rose from the ground, the tremors still wracking her body as she gagged.
“Let it go, let it go. Let it go. Let go of all that sickness, all that rage, all that anger, all that hate, all that self-pity. It's just fuel for the demon inside of you.”
“Fuck.”
Tara retched, vomit spewing onto the ground. A fresh scent rolled off her, reminiscent of what Stiles smelt when around Lafayette. Magic, at least a flicker of it. Suppressed, buried, but unmistakable. He whined softly. He knew how dangerous innate magic could be. If Tara had some kind of ancestry that gave her that power, it wasn’t crazy to think it would react negatively against whatever poison she’d been given.
“Come forth, demon. Leave this child in peace. Come into the light. Show yourself.”
At her words, something shifted. Stiles felt the fur on his back stand on end. A peculiar, almost spicy smell, reached his nose. Not from Tara this time, this was familiar in a different way. It was almost like…
A warmth bloomed inside of him, reaching out for a kindred spirit. The shadows around him gathered as the air seemed to thicken and vibrate.
Chaos
“That ain't real.” Tara’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he followed her gaze.
“What's there? Tell me what you see,” the woman pressed.
“It's me standing right over there. It's me.”
Stiles cocked his head. He couldn’t see what Tara saw, but he saw… something. A shape, humanoid but distorted, flickering and twitching like frames of broken film.
“The demon will take on any form to stay alive. It knows your weaknesses. It preys on your fears. Only you can destroy it.” She pressed a dagger into Tara’s hand, urging her forward. As Tara approached, the shape grew more solid to Stiles’ eyes. He could see the faint image of a little girl but around her was something larger, darker. He got the impression of curved horns, rising up towards the sky.
“Don't let it fool you, Tara Mae. You stand up to that demon.” Tara hesitated for a moment, eyes fixed on the girl. “One of you must die!”
Tara lunged forward with the knife. The girl flickered out, but for a moment Stiles swore she turned black eyes in his direction. He pawed at the dirt as the heaviness around him dissipated, leaving nothing but Tara’s sobs and a lingering smell of pepper clinging to his nostrils.
“Good girl. Good girl, good girl. Good girl. It's all over now. That demon is gone forever.”
Stiles ducked into a bush as the woman ushered Tara from the clearing. He privately added another strike against her for letting the clearly disoriented and distressed Tara leave so soon and, even worse, drive home alone. He considered for a moment, before sprinting after Tara. By the time he reached her, she'd stumbled to her car and was getting in. He grimaced internally, feeling the mess of emotions rolling off her accompanied by the lingering smell of chaos magic, and pushed forward with his spark. He'd not tried this before, quite honestly the emotional elements of his powers made him uncomfortable.
It's for her own good.
Stiles poured his energy into her, willing her to sleep. He was focused so hard on it that when she passed out, head slumping against the wheel with a small thud, he almost jumped.
Okay that part was done. Now to deal with the fake exorcist.
He shifted back to human and returned to the clearing. The woman was clearing away the remains of what had passed, and Stiles noted that the hunch of her back he'd observed previously when she moved was now entirely gone.
Points for effort at least.
“It's quite an impressive set up you've got,” he said. The woman startled, jerking back at the sight of the pale boy lingering by the treeline. “Really, very impressive.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of Tara. Now, hand over the money she gave you.” The woman had the gall to actually look offended, making Stiles roll his eyes in response. “Come on, you and I both know all of this was an act. You’re about as authentic as a counterfeit watch.”
He moved purposefully across the clearing, crouching down beside the fire to pick up the glass bottle that had been discarded there.
“What did you put in this?” She didn’t answer. Stiles sighed. “I can call the police and get them to find out instead.”
“Ipecac. A safe amount. No damage done.”
“A ‘safe amount’ of ipecac doesn’t cause hallucinations, so either you poisoned her or there’s an ingredient you’re leaving out.”
“Peyote…” the woman said after a moment of tense silence. “Just a little.”
“So you drugged her as well as manipulated her.”
“I got kids to take care of, grandbabies who depend on me! I got a son in prison, one in Iraq!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to lie, drug, steal and con vulnerable people!” he snapped. “You took advantage of her. And you did it by messing with things that are beyond your control, putting people at even greater risk.”
“Tara was perfectly safe!”
“You poke around in the shadows and sooner or later you’re going to disturb something you really shouldn’t. Now, you’re going to hand over Tara’s money and then you’re going to shut down your little con.”
“I give people hope. Tara’s mama, she got better because of me!”
“You make people afraid of themselves! You tell them they’ve got demons inside of them, that they’re helpless! Do you understand the fear? The isolation? The desperation and desire to be saved while terrified that the monster inside of you might hurt someone you care about?!” Memories of the Nogitsune surged to the front of his mind as he shouted. He forced himself to stop, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Of course you don’t. You wouldn’t know a real demon if it… well, if it came up to you and demanded money.”
He let the void fill his eyes, overtaking the sclera and pupil until the entire thing was black. The woman stiffened, expression morphing into fear and horror. Stiles smiled and held out a hand, looking at her expectantly. She gritted her teeth and pulled the money from her dress, handing it over to him.
“Thank you. Now, if I hear about you doing this again, I won’t be so nice about it. Understand?”
The woman mumbled a positive response. Stiles gave her another smile, eyes returning to normal, before turning sharply and leaving the clearing. He would drive Tara home and return the money to her when she was awake.
Morning found Stiles overtired and crotchety. He'd driven Tara home, following her scent to find the place, and had woken her once he was a safe distance from the car. Then he'd walked home, mind swirling with theories about what he'd felt and seen. It wasn't an exorcism, he knew that the woman had no actual power and that Tara didn't actually have a demon in her, just a temper and, he suspected, a bunch of childhood trauma. Tara and Lafayette's family clearly had some form of magic in their bloodline but it was barely a whisper… would that have been enough to call out to something else? Something bigger, more powerful and… chaotic?
You know the answer to that. Your spark was tiny, but it was enough to draw in the Nogitsune.
Needless to say, thoughts like that did not make for decent sleep. It wasn’t just the fear of what might be coming, it was the sense of connection he’d felt to whatever it was. He was pretty sure that it was the cause of him being drawn to Bon Temps and given how intense the pull that drew him to the ‘exorcism’ had been, he was terrified of what it all might mean.
After hours of tossing and turning, he gave up and dragged himself out of bed. He was going to head to Merlotte’s to help with the party set up, but he had something he wanted to do first. Ever since he’d found those documents in Bill’s house, he had been thinking about the last pages he hadn’t managed to get copies off. Might as well take advantage of the vampire’s absence.
Once he was dressed, he took his time walking to the Compton house. Sookie’s distinctive car was nowhere in sight but he knocked on the door anyway, just in case. When there was no response, he let himself in and went straight for the study. He didn’t waste any time removing the false bottom from the drawer and retrieving the dossier. Stiles rifled through the pages until he found the ones he’d not seen before. The first few were more of the same, basic information about Sookie and general observations, but the last two pages made him pause. There was a family tree, a scattering of names circled. Sookie’s was one of them, as was one of her grandfathers and a few other male ancestors.
What is this…?
Stiles snapped some pictures and moved onto the last page. It was a letter, written in elegant calligraphy.
William,
I am pleased to hear that your relocation went smoothly and that you are ingratiating yourself with the locals. Remember, if you encounter anyone involved in the distribution of vampire blood, human or vampire, or any newborn vampires who find themselves in need of assistance, inform me directly.
I do so look forward to meeting Sookie. Do not make me wait too long.
Sophie-Anne
He frowned, reading it twice. He recognised the name Sophie-Anne from some of the other documents he’d looked at with Sookie, but he had no idea who she was. The letter felt like a piece of a puzzle he didn’t have the rest of yet and it irked him.
Can’t do anything about it until nightfall at the earliest, he told himself. He settled for taking a picture and tucking everything back where he’d found it, before slipping out of the house like a ghost.
By the time Stiles made it to Merlotte’s, the party set up was already underway. Sam was up a ladder, hanging lanterns while Sookie was putting together a makeshift bar. Even as Stiles approached, he could feel a tension in the air. Anger, bitterness, hurt.
“Sookie, could you reach me up another box of lanterns?” Sam called down. There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, a tension that gave away the falseness of his relaxed demeanour.
“I'm kind of busy right now setting up your bar.” Sookie snapped, taking a crate of bottles from Terry. “Thank you, Terry. You are so sweet and reliable. I always know what to expect from you. No nasty surprises.”
“That's just because you don't know me very well.”
Stiles began to busy himself, keeping an eye on Sookie and Sam as he worked. Between that and his exhaustion from lack of sleep, he was barely aware of Arlene’s arrival or her directions for various changes she wanted.
“Sam. Sam. Don't put the red ones next to the green ones. This ain't Christmas.”
“Alright, I’ll see if I’ve got any other colours stored away,” Sam told her. “Stiles, can you give me a hand or are you too busy falling asleep?”
“Sorry… long night.”
He followed his boss to the shed used for storage, sighing a relief as they stepped inside the blessedly cool interior. Sam didn’t immediately start looking, instead he leaned against the wall pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Y’alright?” Stiles asked hesitantly.
“Sookie found out about me. I fell asleep while I was with her and she woke up.”
“To you in your naked glory?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d she take it?” Sam gave him a withering look. “That bad, huh?”
“Said I lied to her, bunch of stuff ‘bout trust and hidin’ things. I thought she’d get it… get what it’s like to be different but it’s like she thinks cause she don’t hide what she is everyone else oughta be the same.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It was your secret to share when you were ready, if she thinks otherwise she needs a serious reality check.”
Sam sighed, looking around the shed.
“There’s nothing else in here. Arlene will have to make do with red and green,” the shifter said, straightening up and leaving without another word. Stiles stayed where he was for a moment, frowning to himself. He had planned to tell Sam about the fake exorcism, about the weird feeling, maybe even about the file in Bill’s house… but no. That would all have to wait.
Somewhat reluctantly, he left the shed, grumbling at the wall of heat that greeted him. He fetched two cups of water before making his way over to where Sookie was sitting.
“Here,” he said, handing over one of the cups. “You look like you’re starting to cook.”
Sookie gave him a wan smile, budging over to let him sit. As they sipped their water, the stray dog Sam used as an imprint ran over. Sookie eyed it warily.
“It’s not him,” Stiles said quietly. “He’s over with Arlene.”
Sookie stiffened, twisting sharply to face him.
“You knew?”
“About Sam’s furry little secret? Yeah. Although I should clarify, he didn’t tell me. I smelt it.”
“You… smelt it.”
“Look, you already know I’m weird. Just accept that I can smell when someone is supernatural.”
“Like a vampire.”
“Yes.”
“Are you a vampire?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he pointedly lifted his head up so he was looking at the bright sunny sky. Sookie at least had the decency to look a little sheepish at that. “Okay, dumb question. Are you going to tell me what you actually are?”
“I was… kinda changed my mind now.”
“Why?”
“Well Sam’s your friend, that you’ve known for years. If you can get so angry at him over the relatively harmless creature he is, maybe I’m scared that when you hear what I can do you’ll hate me. Or fear me.”
“That’s different. He-”
“It really isn’t. It’s something very personal, that he didn’t want to share. If you had a friend and you found out they were gay, would you be mad that they didn’t tell you?”
“Of course not.”
“There’s a reason so many supernaturals keep themselves hidden, Sookie. Fear of being rejected. Fear of being hunted. Bad experiences when they have shared. You’ve seen how people treat vampires since they came out. I know you’re not like that but you have to understand that fear and trauma aren’t rational and you don’t have the right to anyone’s personal secrets… no matter how close to them you are.”
i hate that they made sam get adopted and have abusive adopted parents in the show bc in the books he has more than one sibling and he has a good relationship with his parents. it's a little annoying that they tried to give him an extremely traumatic backstory in the show when in reality he came from a loving home and was raised by other shifters
and i might be wrong but it appears that they also gave jason the anti-supe prejudices instead of arlene
Summary: Tovah grasps at straws to try and get Arlene to see that vampires aren’t so bad.
Word Count: 329
Warnings: Kink negotiation, biting
"Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be a vampire before," Tovah prompted, lying next to Arlene.
"No. I. Have. Not," Arlene replied, sitting up. "Why are you even askin' me this?"
"I don’t know. Most people find it tempting is all, or romantic in a way. But not you? Not even a little bit?"
"No. What are you getting at?" Arlene's brow furrowed and Tovah had to keep the conversation from going completely off the rails. This hadn’t gone how she wanted it to.
"I just thought maybe we could try it out, like a fantasy."
The skepticism still hadn’t left Arlene's face. "A fantasy? You want me to bite you?"
Tovah chuckled darkly. "You don’t have to rip my throat out, but yeah, I thought it might be kind of hot."
"Well, okay," Arlene hesitantly agreed. "Can’t make any promises, but here goes nothin'." Arlene leaned over Tovah, the weight of her comfortably pressing against Tovah's own body as she made her way to Tovah's neck. Tovah closed her eyes as she felt Arlene's teeth lightly graze against her skin, very cautiously biting down. It was only for a second until Arlene pulled away.
The fleeting feeling diminished entirely and Tovah opened her eyes, meeting Arlene's. "I’m sorry, I feel like I'm doing this all wrong. I’m really not into all that fanger stuff."
Tovah remained stoic despite the way Arlene's words truly hurt her. It was probably for the best. If Arlene had left a mark, it would have been hard to explain away how it had disappeared so quickly. How could she ever convince Arlene that vampires weren’t all bad? That she wasn’t bad?
"That’s okay, beautiful," Tovah reassured, tucking some of Arlene's hair behind her ear. "We don’t have to. It was just something new to try. Thank you for trying for me." The way Arlene was smiling at her almost made it hurt less. Almost.
