Blood and Chaos
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Chapter Twenty One - Worst Vacation Ever
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Stiles reacted instinctively, grabbing hold of his attacker by the hair and sinking his fangs into the nearest body part.
Jessica let out a screech, thrashing wildly. Her frantic movements didn’t dislodge his bite, it just made the wound worse. Stiles tightened his grip and pulled his mouth away, keeping her in place.
“I warned you that if you tried to bite me, you would get hurt. Now, I’m going to give you a few important lessons and then I’m going to let you go. If you try to attack me, I will not hold back. Do you understand?” She whimpered in response and he took that as confirmation. “Firstly, don’t ever assume you know how dangerous someone is. And never attack a person that’s stronger than you. If you don’t know if they’re stronger, assume they are. Secondly, consent is a thing. I told you no, repeatedly. Would you want someone to ignore you if you said no? Hmm? Don’t go sticking your fangs places where they’re not wanted. Lastly, if you try that on a human who belongs to another vampire, you’ll be breaking vampire rules and the consequences will not be pleasant.”
He released her, pushing her away gently. She retreated a few steps, standing awkwardly.
“I thought the whole point about being a vampire was we could do what we wanted,” she said in a sulky voice.
“Vampires have rules and laws. Your existence as a vampire is the result of those laws, and if you feed on someone else’s human, you’ll get your fangs ripped out.”
She squeaked and covered her mouth.
“How am I supposed to know this stuff?”
“Your maker should teach you. Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billiam who is about as useful as a cactus dildo.”
Jessica giggled.
“He was so annoying!”
“One of my friends is dating him and I honestly do not see the appeal. Especially since I'm pretty sure Eric was into her at one point.”
“Really? And she went for Bill?!”
“Right? It's like being offered a limo ride and turning it down for a space hopper.”
It was startlingly easy to chat with Jessica. Stiles wondered if it was their similar ages. He loved his friends in Bon Temp but they were all older than him and even a small handful of years was like a river dividing them from fully understanding each other’s world.
The door to the office opened and Eric entered, followed by Peter. At the sight of the blood on Stiles' chin and Jessica's shoulder, both men stilled.
“How much did you swallow?” Eric asked.
“Not much, I was trying not to.”
“Even a drop is enough.” Eric shot an angry look towards Jessica.
“Enough for what?” She asked, her voice turning anxious as she began to pick at a thread on her skirt.
“If a human ingests a vampire's blood, it forms a connection. The vampire will be able to feel their emotions and track the human. The human will experience… they'll have a particular reaction.”
“But he's not human, right? He has fangs!” She turned and pointed at Stiles. “You have fangs! Humans don't have fangs! You're not human, are you?”
“Parts of me are human,” he told her. She narrowed her eyes.
“Which parts?”
“The human parts,” Stiles said with a serene smile.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Eric cleared his throat and inclined his head to the couch. Jessica sat beside Stiles, then immediately moved away from him after Peter glared at her.
Once all three were seated, Eric started to speak.
“Stiles. You invited a werewolf into my territory without informing me.”
“In my defence, I was in jail.”
“I would have gotten you out if you'd asked.”
“By glamouring the cops? Or do you have a law degree somewhere?” Eric bristled at his tone. Stiles sighed. “I know you could have got me out. But in my experience, when a cop has a vendetta against you it's better to have a paper trail and evidence that you were let go legally. Peter is a lawyer, that's why I called him.”
“And you didn't think to present yourself?” Eric asked Peter.
“My priority was Stiles' wellbeing. It will always be my priority. I did not have the time or inclination for soothing the ego of a territorial vampire, no matter how old you may be.”
Eric snarled, fangs dropping. Peter rose, letting his beta shift take over.
“ENOUGH!” Stiles snapped, moving between them and placing a hand on each of their chests. His claws were out and shadows had started to gather around his ankles. “You're both too old to behave like children! Peter, sit down. Eric, I'm sorry I went behind your back but it was necessary at the time. Now both of you, put your fangs away!”
The two men flared at each other, neither wanting to move. Eventually Eric stepped back, letting his fangs retract. Peter eyed him warily for a moment, before sitting and returning to his human features. Stiles stayed on his feet in case he needed to intervene again.
“When are you leaving?” Eric asked.
“In another day or so. I wanted to ensure that Stiles was alright before leaving. Given his recent experiences and his tendency to neglect his care. I'll be returning to Vegas in the next few days.”
“Vegas? I assumed you were part of the pack in California?”
“I am, technically. However I intend to sever ties with them as soon as I can claim alpha status for myself. Once that's done, I'll form my own pack which Stiles will be a part of. He's expressed a desire to stay in Bon Temp so we'll likely settle in the area.”
“Oh, you will? And what if I drive you out?”
“Then I'll leave with him,” Stiles said quietly.
Eric went very still. His eyes locked with Stiles, as he struggled with what he wanted to say.
“Stiles…”
“Eric, I care about you. I’m happy in Bon Temp. I have friends, I feel safe… but Peter… Peter has protected me, cared for me. He was one of the only people who noticed when I was in pain. He saved me from a monster, he searched for me when I ran and held me when I had nightmares. I would give up the life I have here in a heartbeat to stay with him. I don’t want to. But I would.” Stiles stepped closer to Eric, lightly placing a hand on his chest. “Please. Don’t make me pick. Don’t make me have to go.”
Eric considered him for a moment before looking at Peter and Jessica.
“Can you give us a moment?”
Jessica left quickly but Peter hesitated, eyes going to Stiles to make sure he was okay with it before stepping out.
Silence settled over the office, Eric looking down at Stiles with a peculiar expression. Stiles tried not to let his nerves show. Usually he was at ease with Eric but the man's silent staring made him feel small and preylike in a way he hasn't for a long time.
“What will it take,” he said, his voice a whisper. “What do I have to do for you to let Peter stay here? To let him build a pack here? To let him have peace here?”
Eric reached out and his fingers brushed against Stiles' cheek, trailing down until his thumb rested at the corner of his mouth and fingertips traced patterns over his neck.
“How has one wolf captured your loyalty so completely?” he murmured.
“He is the only person who truly knows me. Wholly. Entirely. Without fear and without judgement.”
Eric sighed softly and stepped back, moving to his desk.
“He can stay.”
“Thank you.”
“That’ll be all tonight Stiles,” he said, dismissively. His eyes went to some papers on his desk. Stiles felt a pang of hurt but he pushed it down.
“Understood.” He walked out without another word.
Stiles' schedule relaxed a bit as Sookie and Arlene began to slip back into their old routine, but there was still a handful of extra shifts he needed to fill with the absence of Amy.
Eric didn't contact him and for some reason that bothered him.
With a bit more free time, he found himself with a chance to think and a few thoughts persisted until he accepted he couldn't ignore them.
The first thing he did was text Pam and request a list of vampires in Louisiana, any that had been reported missing across the areas, any that had been punished by the magister and any newborns that had been created. He also asked if it was possible to get records of vampires in the Queen's court. She provided most of the documents he wanted, but said the formal records of the court were only accessible by the magister. However the list of vampires did include registered addresses, and property records were public so he was able to piece together a makeshift list. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with the information but he felt that it was important to have it.
The next thought was a bit more difficult to convince himself to follow.
The day that Peter left Louisiana, Stiles was an anxious wreck. His stress and nerves were clearly visible, but he excused it as being worried about Peter hunting down a rogue alpha. It wasn't a complete lie, he was worried, it just wasn't the entire reason.
He drove Peter to the airport, hugged him goodbye outside the terminal and then got back into his jeep. He drove to the carpark and waited.
He waited until the flight to Las Vegas had completed boarding. Then he left the jeep, walked into the airport and checked in for a flight to California.
Stiles had timed it to ensure he spent as little time as possible waiting to board his plane. He knew the longer he sat there, the greater the chances of him changing his mind. He had brought his paperwork with him as a distraction and, even if he wasn't sure what he was looking for yet, he fell into the research with an intense focus.
He made it through the flight, arriving in California a little before 7pm. He rented a car and started the last leg of his trip, concentrating on keeping his mind carefully blank.
It was only when the sign came into view, rising up like a ghost on the empty road, that his composure shattered.
Welcome to Beacon Hills!
Stiles slammed his foot down on the brake, the car jerking to a halt a few feet from the sign.
He stared at it, the full implication of what he was going to do finally sinking in. His breathing was ragged and his heartbeat sounded impossibly loud, blood pulsing inside his head.
He pulled to the side of the road and hesitantly got out of the car. The grass beneath his feet was damp, his shoes squeaking slightly as he approached the sign. He extended his arm, holding his palm a little above the metal. A faint electrical buzzing radiated off it, making the hairs on his arm stand up. His wards were still up. They'd been one of the first things he'd put in place but he assumed that Deaton would have replaced them. Then again, he didn't know how much power the druid actually had (he'd certainly never seemed inclined to use it). He moved his hand closer, the sharp static changing to a feeling like he was submerging it in warm water. He could almost feel the Nemeton reaching out, welcoming him.
After taking a deep steadying breath, Stiles returned to the car and started it up. It took him another few minutes of sitting there before he actually drove across the boundary line.
It was too late for his plans, but there was a small motel on the edge of town that had rooms free. He made sure he was wearing one of his scent blocking charms before leaving the car, hoodie pulled up over his head while he checked in.
Once settled in the room, all his strength seemed to abandon him and he sank onto the bed.
“What am I doing…” he muttered. He sighed and pulled out his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing. It rang for a while and Stiles was beginning to think he wasn’t going to get an answer when it finally connected.
“What?” A grumpy, half asleep voice said.
“Did I wake you?”
“It's three in the morning over here, Stilinski. Of course you woke me,” Jackson grumbled.
“Sorry, I'm not good at the time difference”
“What do you want?”
“I… I might be about to do something incredibly stupid.”
“Like pretty much everything you do?”
“Shut up.”
The sound of rustling and a click of a switch came from the other end before Jackson spoke again.
“Where are you?”
“I'm in a motel. In California.”
“You're not. Tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing.”
“I can't.”
“Are you some kind of masochist? Do you get off on this? You got out, why would you go back?!”
“There's something I need to do. But I don't know if I'm doing it because it's right or because I want to make myself feel better.”
Jackson sighed.
“Will the reason why change the outcome?”
“No.”
“Then the ‘why’ doesn't matter.”
“But I… I feel like I don't deserve to feel better.”
“This is about Allison isn't it? Stiles, you know that wasn't your fault.”
“I was angry at her. For her part in everything. I wanted her to feel the pain she'd caused.”
“Were you angry at your dad too?”
“What?”
“How about the cops at the station? Did you want them to feel pain?”
“No, of course not.”
“You're trying to put a reason behind the actions of a creature that was literally chaos personified. It went after whoever it thought would cause the most pain. You and your feelings for Allison were not the cause.” Jackson sighed again. “Look, I get it. But you can’t punish yourself for things you couldn’t control. You are not to blame for the actions of others. Isn’t that what you said to me?”
“Don’t use my own words against me.”
“Too late, I just did.”
Stiles scowled.
“I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know.” Jackson paused. “You’re still going to do it aren’t you?”
“Blame myself? Probably.”
“No, I mean whatever you were planning to do about Alison.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m here, I’ve got something else to do before I leave. Might as well.”
“And if McCall spots you?”
“Then I run.”
“You’re going to outrun a werewolf? Good luck with that.”
Stiles closed his eyes, letting out a considering hum.
“Maybe I should destroy Eichen while I’m down here…” he mused.
“Do it. You’ll probably get thank you cards. I know I’d send one.”
Jackson’s voice took on a hollow quality. After everything that had happened with the Kanima and Gerard, he’d wound up there on a 72 hour hold which had briefly overlapped with Stiles’ own stay. Once things had settled down again and Stiles was Nogitsune free once more, he’d paid a visit to the Whittemore house while they were still packing up to leave. It had been a bit strange at first, but with everything they had experienced together and the similar circumstances they’d endured as puppets to others, it had become a necessity. There was no one else they could talk to that would fully understand. Even Peter, who knew Stiles beyond the facade he put on, couldn’t completely relate to the sensation of being controlled.
“Are you doing okay?” Stiles asked quietly.
“Had some rough days recently, a few bad dreams. But they’re a lot less frequent than they were.”
“Your pack?”
“Ehh… I’m trying. They’re all related to each other or they’ve known each other for decades. I feel like an outsider.” Jackson hesitated and when he spoke again, his voice had become less dismissive. “It’s like when I found out about my parents. I don’t fit right.”
“Just remember, it’s not forever. You’ll be able to find your own pack soon, somewhere that feels right for you.”
“Hope so.” He yawned.
“I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep, I know you need it.”
“Fuck off Stilinski.”
“See you later Whittemore.”
“Hey, don’t be a dumbass, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Stiles checked out early the next morning and made his way into town. He couldn’t help the persistent feeling of paranoia as he moved through the streets of his old home. He kept his head down, hoodie up, and eyes scanning the area for anyone he knew.
He reached the florists unaccosted and let himself in. The florist, an older woman with a warm expression, was in the middle of a task and glanced over with a friendly greeting. Then they froze, before turning sharply.
“Stiles? Is that you sweetheart?”
“Hi Petra.”
She rushed out from behind the counter and pulled Stiles into a tight hug. Petra had been a friend of his mom and the only person he ever bought flowers from.
“Are you back?” she asked, pulling back and looking him over. “You look too thin, are you eating properly?”
“I’m just here for the day, I couldn’t miss another year. And yes, i’m eating, I promise.” He gave her a small smile.
Petra nodded understandingly and bustled back to the counter.
“Do you want the usual?”
“If you’ve got the supplies. I know it’s short notice.”
“I got them in, just in case.”
She went into the back, returning moments later with a bouquet of 12 sunflowers tied together with a ribbon.
“They’re perfect, thank you.” His eyes drifted over to the display of premade bouquets and, after a moment of consideration, he picked up one of white roses and a small potted orchid. “These too, please.”
“No problem. It was good seeing you Stiles.”
He paid and left, walking through town towards the cemetery. The streets were a bit more awake, people on their way to work and school. He kept off the main roads, taking some of the more hidden back routes, the kind of paths that knowledge of only came after years of living there.
The streets around the cemetery were silent as he crossed over to the main gate and entered. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he always felt like a bubble settled over him when he was inside, dampening the outside world.
Stiles walked the rows, pausing at a large memorial stone with a statue of a sleeping wolf on top. He ran his fingers over the words carved on the front of the stone. HALE in bold lettering, then a list of names and dates. He set the roses in the curve of the wolf’s body, the petals resting against its neck, before moving on.
His mother’s grave was under a large tree, the stone a simple piece of smooth marble. He had kept it clean since she had been placed there, visiting at least once a month to remove stray leaves and wipe away any grime that had formed. He would bring sunflowers once a year, always twelve of them, one for each month. Sometimes in the months between, he’d bring other flowers but the sunflowers were special.
He knelt beside the grave and began to brush aside the debris that had accumulated in his absence.
“Hi mom,” Stiles said softly. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I had to leave town, that’s why I wasn’t here last year… i shouldn’t really be here now… I don’t know if i’ll be able to come back again, but I wanted to make sure that if I can’t that I got the chance to say goodbye.” He picked up a small pot that rested on the base of the gravestone. It was old and messily painted, a craft project they’d done together. He felt tears sting his eyes as he looked at the clumsy lettering on one side.
Mommy and Mischief
He let the tears fall as he set the sunflowers in the pot, before returning it to its spot.
“I love you mom. I miss you.”
Stiles stayed by the grave for a while, sitting in silence. When he got up to leave, he found that he wasn't alone.
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly.
“Derek”
“You're back”
“I'm not staying. I'll be gone in a few hours”
“Is Peter with you?”
“No, it's just me.” Stiles paused. “Are you going to tell Scott?”
“No.”
“Why? I thought I was too ‘dangerous’ to roam free.”
“I never thought that.”
“No?”
“You are dangerous, but only when you want to be.”
Stiles wanted to believe him but the memory of hiding in the walk in at Merlottes was too strong, Derek's presence there contradicting his words.
“You hunted me.”
“I never wanted to. Scott commanded me, I didn't have a choice.”
Stiles growled. He'd had his issues with Derek, and maybe if things had been different they could have become friends, but he would never want to see the wolf's choices stripped away from him. He had pieced together the truth about what Kate had done, he'd seen how Scott had used Derek's paralysed body to bite Gerard, and he suspected that Derek's brief relationship with the Darach hadn't been entirely consensual. And now, he'd had yet another decision taken from him.
“It's not right…” he said quietly. “Why do you stay?”
“Where else can I go? No alpha is going to take in the beta who got his pack killed.”
“There will be at least one,” Stiles said, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe sooner than you think. And when the opportunity presents itself, I really think you should take it. I know this is your home but it's… not… good here”
Derek looked confused but Stiles wasn't going to waste anymore time, he had places to be.
He left the cemetery and returned to the motel where he'd left his car. The next part of his plans was risky and he wanted to have an escape vehicle close by.
He drove to the hospital and parked near the long term care ward. He eyed the entrance, remembering the last time he’d been there. The first time he’d officially met Peter.
It felt like a hundred of years had passed and simultaneously no time at all.
He headed inside, by passing the nurse’s station which was vacant as per usual. Stiles couldn’t remember a single time he’d visited there that someone had actually been on duty, even as far back as when his mom was a patient.
It didn’t take him long to find the room he needed and when he saw which door the nameplate was on, he had to stifle a snort. Peter’s old room.
He let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him, and sat beside the bed. Alison lay motionless, the covers tucked neatly around her.
“Hi Alison. Long time no see, right? Umm… I bought you an orchid. I’ll put it over here.” He set the orchid down on the small bedside table which already held a jug of water and a book with a page corner folded down. “I don’t know why exactly I came here… well, that’s not right… I do, I just don’t know if I am going to do it.” He picked up the book, wanting to keep his hands busy. “I guess I’m going to read this until I make up my mind.” He turned it over in his hands. “Hmm, bit of an odd choice. I guess this belongs to your dad? Can’t see Scott having this.”
Stiles smoothed out the folded corner and cleared his throat, beginning to read.
“Viens-tu du ciel profond ou sors-tu de l'abîme,
O Beauté? ton regard, infernal et divin,
Verse confusément le bienfait et le crime,
Et l'on peut pour cela te comparer au vin.
Tu contiens dans ton oeil le couchant et l'aurore;
Tu répands des parfums comme un soir orageux;
Tes baisers sont un philtre et ta bouche une amphore
Qui font le héros lâche et l'enfant courageux.”
His voice faltered and he lifted his eyes from the book, looking at Alison’s peaceful face.
“I never meant for you to get hurt. I was angry, angry about what you did but… this wasn’t what I wanted. Jackson says I’m assigning meaning to the actions of a creature of chaos, that how I felt had nothing to do with what happened… but I’m still not sure. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing this. I’m sorry for not stopping it in time. I’m sorry you got dragged into this stupid world… if i’d never taken Scott out that night, maybe none of this would have happened to you. Maybe your dad would have managed to keep you out of things…” He ran his fingers over the words on the page in front of him.
“Sors-tu du gouffre noir ou descends-tu des astres?
Le Destin charmé suit tes jupons comme un chien- ”
“Tu sèmes au hasard la joie et les désastres,
Et tu gouvernes tout et ne réponds de rien.”
Stiles didn’t turn at the interruption, just closed the book and set it down.
“Christopher.”
“Stiles.”
“Slightly odd reading material for the location?”
“Alison likes Baudelaire. The doctors said familiar things could help.” Chris took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Why are you here?”
“Closure. Amends. Call it whatever you like.” He sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I want to tell you some things, explain a few misconceptions. And then…”
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to make you an offer. And you can choose, based on what I told you, what the outcome is.” He lifted his head and met Chris’ cold blue eyes. “Will you listen?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. What do you know about Sparks?”
Chris frowned.
“They’re creatures of magic. Rare, some people think they’re myths or extinct.”
“Do you know how a Spark comes into their power?”
“They can be trained from birth if they’re in the right community. Or it can come out later due to…” he hesitated. “Exposure to the supernatural. Or risk to their lives. But they wouldn’t know how to control it.”
“I don’t know how much you actually know about what happened in your basement. Did you know I was there?” Chris opened his mouth but Stiles continued. “Did you know that your father and his men beat me until nearly every bone was broken? Lashed me? Burned me? Did you know that the only reason it stopped was because I was so weak, it wasn’t fun for them anymore?” He locked eyes with Chris. “Did you know I died that night?”
The sharp inhale was enough of an answer. Stiles managed a weak smile.
“My last thought was please, I don’t want to die. Please let me live. This was after I’d been dragged out into the preserve and left there. I don’t know if it was because I was trying to will myself to stay alive or just bad luck, but that’s where the Nogitsune found me. It was enough to keep me alive, not for long though. It couldn’t heal me quick enough, just kept me clinging on. I guess I should thank you, because if you hadn’t let Erica and Boyd go, I probably would have died again. For good. They helped patch me up, it was enough for the Nogitsune to start making actual repairs instead of just damage control.”
“You didn’t go to the hospital. You came to the warehouse.”
“I did. Because I wasn’t going to let my friends down,” Stiles said with a bitter laugh. “I bore the pain, just like I always did. And then… well, you know what came next.”
“I do.”
“What you don’t know is everything that happened at the end and what followed. After it was gone, I started practicing with my power. I just wanted to keep people safe. That’s all I ever wanted. I thought if I tried, if i got control, I’d stop being the clumsy human with the baseball bat. I’d actually be able to contribute… since no one seemed to consider my research actual help.” Stiles paused, turning the words over in his head before he spoke again. “But of course, as soon as Scott found out about my developing powers, he decided they had to be from the Nogitsune. After all, I wasn’t anything special, I was just Stiles. They had to have come from the one supernatural creature that had taken me over, there couldn’t be another option. And the more I argued, the more he insisted. He became more convinced that the Nogitsune wasn’t really gone, that it had left part of it behind inside of me. It got to the point where I started to believe it. And… well, you know what happens with Sparks and Belief.”
“I do…”
“I can’t say that every trace of that fox is gone. Because my belief created a version of it. It’s half of my power now. I want you to know that and understand it before I make my offer because it might make an easy choice much harder for you.” Chris nodded slowly. “When Alison got… when she got hurt, all I could think was no, don’t let this happen. Stop this. Spark, desperation… Apparently those add up to this.” He gestured to the bed. “Magically induced coma. My spark put her body in a sort of stasis so she’d be able to heal from her injuries without bits shutting down from blood loss and trauma. I only visited her once after everything and I could feel my magic on her. That’s why I was working so hard to grow my power, to learn how to control it. So I could wake her up. But after Scott decided I still had the Nogitsune inside me, I knew he’d never let me near her. And I knew that if he managed to get me into Eichen, no matter how good his intentions were, I would never get out. If I’d managed to do it earlier, it would have just been my Spark at work. I don’t know if you consider my… pseudo Nogitsune side to have tainted that. So the choice is yours. I can remove the magic. Her body is healed, she’ll wake up… maybe not right away, probably will take a few hours while everything sorts itself out. She might have some mild amnesia, trauma response y’know? Or I can leave her, so she won’t have to be touched by the darkness again.”
Chris looked at Alison and took her hand, rubbing his thumb against her palm.
“Do it. Please.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I just want my little girl back.”
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