Welcome to my lair...

When Peter’s car pulled up at the Stackhouse residence, Stiles threw himself out of the vehicle before it had come to a full stop. The front door was wide open and the smell of blood was thick in the air. Peter moved to Stiles’ side, trying to step in front of him protectively but the boy sidestepped the wolf and ran into the house.

The first person he saw was Adele. She was lying at the base of the stairs, limbs splayed at unnatural angles. Bruises were already forming on her arms and throat. There was a rust coloured stain on the wall and Stiles could see blood matting her hair. He raced to her side, crouching and checking her pulse. It was weak but there. Up close, he could see more stains on her clothes and numerous cuts. She had fought. Hopefully that would have been enough for Sookie to get away. 

Peter followed the sound of a heartbeat into the kitchen. He saw the bloody corpse of Amy and the slumped body of Jason, who had been struck over the head with something. The young man was halfway between conscious and unconscious. His eyes were open but the struggle to maintain them was visible on his face. Peter returned to the hall, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing 911. He quickly relayed the location and the situation, eyes scanning the room for threats.

Jason staggered out of the kitchen, eyes widening as he saw Adele.

“Gran…?” he croaked. Stiles turned to him.

“Jason, I need you to stay here with your gran. Sookie’s out there somewhere with Rene. Peter and I will find her.”

Jason looked uncertain, like he wanted to argue but Peter pressed his phone into the man’s hand.

“Take this, stay on the call with the dispatcher. If anything changes with your grandmother, let them know and they’ll tell you what to do.”

Maybe it was the firm tone, or the unwavering look on Peter’s face, or perhaps it was just that Peter radiated more authority than Stiles did, but whatever it was Jason nodded and knelt beside his gran. Peter gestured for Stiles to follow him outside.

“Can you hear them?” Stiles asked, once they were out of earshot from Jason. Peter cocked his head.

“Two people, that way.” He pointed towards the cemetery. Stiles nodded and they set off.

“You fuckin’ hear me, you filthy fuckin’ cunt? I'm gonna tear out your goddamn throat with my hands and fuck your dead face!” The sound of Rene’s furious voice added speed to Stiles’ legs, terrified he wouldn’t make it in time. Peter was running ahead, drawing closer to the first of the graves.

It was a smart move by Sookie, Stiles thought to himself. She’d clearly been trying to make it to Bill’s house. He didn’t know if the vampire had returned from his tribunal yet, but if he had then he’d be the best person to protect Sookie. And if he hadn’t, Sookie knew where Bill went to ground which would make a good hiding spot.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t made it that far. 

Footprints in soft dirt led a short way through the graves before they were obliterated into a mess of scuff marks around a small outbuilding. 

Groundskeeper’s cottage? Stiles' mind supplied.

The door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been kicked open. Rene was shouting from inside. Bill was circling the building, a look of frustration on his face. Stiles ignored him, charging into the building with Peter at his side. 

“Mind-reading, vampire-fuckin’ freak bitch! You think you're so smart? You smart now?”

Sookie was on the ground amongst broken dusty furniture, Rene on top of her. Peter let out a snarl, face slipping into his beta shift. The noise was enough to draw Rene's focus, half turning. He yelled at the sight, confusion at what he was seeing being overridden by an instinctive fear, hardwired to recognise a predator. 

“What the fuck are you? What the fuck?”

Stiles grabbed a splintered table leg and struck out wildly at Rene. He didn't care if he didn't hit him, he just wanted to force him back away from Sookie. It had the desired effect, Rene jerking backwards and onto his feet. He ducked another swing from the leg and lunged for Stiles. Peter intercepted, tossing the man across the room and squaring up in front of him. Rene tried to get back up but as he rose a strange expression crossed his face. He took a half step forward and his legs crumpled, sending him crashing to the floor.

Stiles looked from the man to Sookie, who was sitting up. A pen was in her hand, one he recognised.

“He's paralysed,” Stiles said quietly. Peter, letting his face fall back to normal, gave him a slight smile.

“Kanima venom?” He asked. Stiles nodded, moving to kneel beside Sookie. He carefully capped the pen to prevent the venom from leaking onto someone else. 

“Sookie, are you okay? Did he cut you or stab you?”

“No,” she croaked, hoarse from where Rene had strangled her. 

“Alright. We called an ambulance, they'll check you out. Peter, are you okay to watch him until the cops get here?” he asked, helping her up.

“Are you sure we want to give him to the police? They did already let him go… and I'm sure there are a lot of wild animals around here.”

“The police are almost to the house,” Bill called from outside. 

“Bill?” Sookie pulled away and limped to the door.

“Sookie,” Bill wrapped his arms around her the moment she was across the threshold. Peter raised an eyebrow and muttered ‘Sookeh’ under his breath in a very good impression of Bill's accent. Stiles bit his lip, pushing down a laugh.

“Hopefully the ambulance will be with them,” Stiles said, stepping outside. “Sookie, your gran… she was pretty badly hurt. Jason's with her, but… you should probably go wait with her”

Sookie nodded, face pale beneath the blossoming bruises. She left Bill's side and headed for the house. The vampire lingered, turning to look at Stiles and Peter, who had come to the doorway.

“You seem to have a habit of showing up around Sookie,” Bill said, eyes on Stiles.

“It's called friendship. You should try it sometime, might help you with that wooden stake you've got up your butt”

“I'm not so sure someone who fraternizes with Eric Northman is someone I want popping up in Sookie's life.”

“Well that's really up to her isn't it? And I can assure you, my extra curriculars have no bearing on my relationship with Sookie. I have her best interests at heart… can you say the same?”

Bill’s lip curled into something reminiscent of a snarl but Peter cleared his throat before the vampire could do anything more.

“Mr Compton, I suggest you take a step back. You're not the only one with fangs.”

“I thought it smelt like wet dog around here,” Bill said with a scowl. “I'm far older than you, you should show some respect”

“My respect is reserved for those who earn it. Not for southern fried vampires who haven't updated their wardrobe in the last fifty years.” Peter looked up at the sky. “You should run along. Dawn's coming and I'd hate to see you get a sunburn.”

Bill’s scowl grew but he stalked off after Sookie. Stiles waited until he was a decent distance away before looking at Peter.

“When's dawn?”

“In a few hours. I just wanted to get rid of him.”

“Understandable. He has the personality of wet cardboard.”

Stiles glanced back into the little house. “How are we going to explain him suddenly being paralysed?”

“I get the feeling they won't want to look too closely, given that the only reason he was able to kill another woman was because they released him. Besides, the paralysis should wear off by the time they get him to the station and Kanima venom won't come up on any standard test they try.”

Sheriff Dearborne approached, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Stiles, Mr Hale. Is Mr Lenier inside?”

“Yes. You might need someone else to help you get him to your car,” Stiles told him.

“Is he actually going to stay in jail this time?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes. We have multiple statements and Arlene brought in some items she found that belonged to Rene. They support the information Sookie provided, which was verified by a fax from another precinct… the fax was overlooked by Office Bellefleur. We have now suspended him for his conduct.” 

Sheriff Dearborne took their statement, although Stiles was barely paying attention. His focus was on the ambulance parked by the Stackhouse home, quietly hoping that Adele was going to be okay, that the paramedics had made it there in time.

Once the sheriff had finished asking his questions, Stiles couldn't wait any longer.

“Are Adele and Jason okay?”

“The paramedics say Jason has a mild concussion. Mrs Stackhouse… we're not sure.”

“Can we go…?” Stiles gestured towards the ambulance. The Sheriff nodded. Stiles glanced at Peter who nodded once, silently communicating that he’d stay near Rene until he was safely secured.

Stiles jogged to the house. The paramedics had finished loading Adele into the ambulance.

“One of you can ride with us, the other will need to make their own way,” a woman was saying to Sookie. The two siblings looked at one another, clearly conflicted.

“Jason, you’re concussed. You can’t drive,” Sookie said.

“Neither of you are in a fit state to drive,” Stiles interjected. “And honestly, as much as you want to be with your gran, it’s probably better if I give you both a ride to the hospital instead.”

Jason looked like he wanted to argue and Sookie seemed reluctant, but they both conceded when the paramedic made an impatient noise.

Stiles led the siblings to Peter’s car. A moment later, the wolf joined them as though summoned by the prospect of someone else driving his vehicle.

They loaded up and followed after the ambulance. The car was near silent, punctuated by Sookie’s soft whimpers and the occasional quiet groan from Jason.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Stiles said after a while. “But i’ve been in your position. You’re in pain, adrenaline is spiked, being in a high pressure environment like an ambulance with someone you love just… you end up catastrophising and that makes it harder on the medics.”

Neither of them replied and eventually he stopped waiting for them to. 

The days that followed were exhausting. With Amy dead, Sookie at the hospital with her gran and Arlene struggling to reconcile the man she'd loved with the man he actually was, Stiles found himself covering a lot of extra work at the bar. Both Sookie and Arlene did come in occasionally but it was clear their head was elsewhere. It didn't help that the gossips kept bringing up Rene, usually triggering tears from the redhead. He had also been helping in other ways, making sure there was food available for Sookie and Jason, cleaning up the blood once the police had finished with it, and providing lifts to the hospital.

He finally had a night off and as much as he wanted to spend it cuddled up in bed, enjoying one of the last days before Peter headed back to Vegas on his alpha hunt, he had something he needed to do. He’d been trying to put it off as long as possible, but after a rather pointed message from Eric he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Stiles got home and let himself in. He’d texted Peter earlier to let him know about the evening plans and the wolf was sat on the couch waiting for him, possessing a casual yet posed quality.

“Give me five minutes to get changed,” Stiles told him.

“Take your time. You smell like grease and stress.”

“Rude. But I can’t take too long, Lafayette is going to meet us there.” 

“Go shower, I’ll lay some clothes out for you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“You went shopping didn't you?”

“Yes. I did. Now, shower.”

He dutifully headed to the shower, taking his time to rinse off the smell of the bar. Once he was finished, he went to the clothes Peter had left for him. He didn’t realise anything was wrong with them until he had, after a bit of a struggle, got the trousers on.

“Peter, these pants are too small!”

The wolf poked his head in, running his eyes over Stiles.

“No they’re not, they’re perfectly sized.”

“I can’t breathe!”

“You can talk, so you can breathe.”

“Yeah but I don’t think I’ll be able to have children after wearing these.”

“You’ll be fine. Now, put your shirt on.”

“I'm not sure you can legally call this a shirt…” Stiles muttered. “It's transparent!”

“No it's not.” Peter folded his arms and stared until Stiles pulled it on. He then reached over and undid the first few buttons, adjusting the fabric to reveal more of his neck and collarbone. “Now, look”

Stiles looked in the mirror. Tight black trousers and a sheer black shirt with short sleeves and a few deep red flowers embroidered on it. He had to admit, it looked good against the pale skin on show. There was a lot of it.

“Are you trying to get me eaten? Going to a vampire bar looking like this, I might as well be sprawled on a serving platter.”

“Well, I have to make sure your vampire is up to protecting you.”

“And this is how you're going to test that?”

Peter gave him one of those smiles with just a bit too many teeth involved, the kind that would make people who didn't know him (and some of the ones who did) take a step back.

“Alright, come on then. Let's get this over with.”

By the time they got to Fangtasia, Lafayette was already there. He was sitting in his car looking anxious, but reluctantly got out when Peter and Stiles approached. Despite his nerves, he gave them both an appreciative look.

“Ohh Stiles, you out here lookin’ all pornilicious, and you walkin’ up with this sex on a stick white boy? Must be my lucky night”

“Lafayette, this is Peter.”

“Where can I get one?” Lafayette asked, giving Peter another look. 

“One and only sweetheart,” Peter said with a wink. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He guided the pair towards the club. As they neared the door, Stiles stepped to the front of their trio. Pam was at the door and she waved them past the line much to the annoyance of the patrons waiting outside.

“Stiles, always a pleasure. Did you finally develop a sense of taste?”

“This is all Peter’s handiwork I’m afraid.”

Pam’s eyes flicked to Peter, narrowing slightly as she looked him over. Eventually she nodded and switched her focus to Lafayette.

“Hmm,” was all she said, before gesturing for them to enter.

The three of them went into the club. Eric was on the stage, reclining on his throne looking bored as usual. Stiles inclined his head slightly and then led Lafayette to a booth in the corner while Peter went to get them drinks. It was easy to tell who was a vampire by how they reacted to the wolf’s presence, but none of them did anything more than give him a look of disgust. Lafayette was looking nervous, his usually cool demeanour fracturing at the edges the longer he sat there.

“It’ll be okay,” Stiles told him quietly. “If you hadn’t come in on your own, they would have gone after you and that would have been much worse.”

A young redheaded woman approached, leaning against the table.

“Hey cutie,” she said to Stiles. “Dance with me?”

“I’m comfy here,” he told her. She scowled, opening her mouth to speak.

“He’s spoken for Jessica,” Eric said, sliding into the booth beside Stiles. He slung his arm across the back of the seat, fingers brushing the boy’s shoulder. The redhead, Jessica, looked at Lafayette.

“What about you?”

“You’s barking up the wrong tree there.”

Jessica pouted.

“No one lets me have any fun.”

“Jessica, go wait in my office,” Eric told her firmly. She stomped her foot and stalked off.

“Friend of yours?” Stiles asked, watching her go.

“Bill’s progeny.”

“And why isn’t she with Bill?”

“I’m wondering that more each day…” Eric turned his gaze to Lafayette. “Stiles was right. If you hadn’t come to us, we would have come for you.” He flashed a sharp smile.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Eric looked up to see Peter standing there.

“Mr Northman, you’re in my seat.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t let animals on the furniture.”

“Dog jokes? How original.” 

Lafayette raised an eyebrow at Stiles who pulled a ‘don’t ask’ face in response.

“Listen,” Lafayette said. “I just wanna get this over with and go. Whatever yous got goin’ on, i don’t want no part of.”

“Fine. Stiles, Lafayette, please follow me. Mr Hale, i’ll fetch you when we’re done. Try not to chew the seat cushions.”

Peter rolled his eyes, waited for the three of them to get up before making himself comfortable. Stiles gently brushed his hand against the wolf’s arm before following Eric to the office.

Jessica was inside, looking bored and irritated. She perked up a little at the sight of them and rose to intercept Stiles. 

“You smell… strange.” Her fangs dropped, her eyes hungry. Stiles didn’t react.

“If you bite me,” he told her, “I will bite you back. Harder.”

She laughed.

“As if.”

Lafayette and Eric were sat at the desk and Stiles peered round the girl to catch Eric’s eye.

“Eric?” he said softly, asking for permission.

“Jessica, behave yourself. Go get me a drink from the bar.”

“URGH! You’re such a dick, just like Bill!”

She stormed off, Pam entering as she left and headed to stand behind Eric. Stiles rolled his eyes and sat on the sofa. Eric eyed Lafayette contemplatively. The cook shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gaze. The silence was getting to him, and he eventually broke.

“I don't know what it is you wanna know, but point me in the direction, and I give to you.”

“I've seen your website. It's quite, low rent. But your clients… they’re loyal. Enough to miss you if you disappeared, enough to wonder if you’d be coming back,” Eric said.

“Look, I'm here because of the V, right? How'bout I give you the names of everybody I ever sold to?”

“And all this time I thought prostitutes were good at keeping secrets,” Pam said, smirking.

“Don't get it twisted, honeycomb, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whole bunch of other sh*t after that. But a hooker, dead last. So if I got even a Jew at an al Qaeda pep rally shot at getting my black ass up out this motherfucker, I'm taking it. Now, what you wanna know?

“The vampire you had your little arrangement with. Eddie Gauthier. What do you know about what happened to him?”

“Only what i’ve been told. Last time I saw him he was doing real good. Then I went to his house, the door was open and he was gone.”

“You know who took him?”

“I mean I ain't sure exactly, I know who was involved, don’t know which one of them did it.”

“That's not very forthcoming of you”

“Jason Stackhouse. And his girlfriend, Amy. She was a… real kooky type. But smart, smarter than Jason.”

“And when you found out what happened?”

“I told Stiles. He tried to warn me, i didn’t listen. I though he could help. He asked me if I wanted him to get Eddie out of where he was, asked if i knew the risks.”

“You did?”

“Yeah…”

“This one action is the sole reason you are alive Lafayette. Eddie vouched for your character, although the admission of one law breaking love sick fledgling was not exactly compelling evidence. Stiles however… his opinion of you I hold slightly higher.” Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Not enough to excuse your actions though.”

Stiles straightened in his seat, tensed in case Eric made a move to hurt Lafayette. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do, given that he was on Eric’s territory in a building full of vampires, but he’d convinced Lafayette to come there and any blood that spilled would be his fault.

“I want a list of every client, every contact, everyone you know that is connected to the purchase or selling of V,” Eric said firmly. “In addition, you stop selling and you will answer some questions I have. I understand dealers of vampire blood sometimes trade product with one another across state lines. Any buyers in the Dallas area?”

“One. He never gave me his name though. I have an e-mail address. [email protected]”

“A friend of mine in the Dallas area, his name is Godric, has gone missing. Now, while the circumstances of his disappearance are unclear, it stands to reason his blood would be very valuable, as he's over twice my age and ten times the vampire I will ever be.”

Stiles frowned, picking up the emotion seeping out of the vampire. Love, fear, sorrow. He’d rarely felt anything but complete control from Eric.

“Eric, you don't do humble well,” Pam said.

“I was not being humble. This happens to be true.” Eric said, sharply. “Your associate, this "pussylover". Has he or she mentioned any new product coming on the market?”

“No, no. And I would tell you. You know that.”

“Stiles? Is he telling the truth?” The two vampires pinned him under their unflinching gaze. Stiles looked at Lafayette. Fear, but no deception.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Eric slid a notebook across the desk. “Names. Emails. Numbers. Every detail you have.”

Lafayette got out his phone and started to copy down information. Eric and Pam didn’t stop staring at him as he did so and Stiles could see the writing getting messier in his hurry to get away from them.

“There.”

“Thank you Lafayette. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.” Eric tucked the pad away and got up. “Stiles, i’ll be back in a moment with your… friend. Wait here.”

Pam, Eric and Lafayette left, leaving Stiles alone in the room. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to push down the exhaustion.

The office door creaked and clicked shut. Quiet footsteps moved towards the couch and the smell of floral perfume reached his nostrils. Stiles’ eyes shot open just as sharp fangs grazed his skin.

TAGLIST

@ausefulnpc

Stiles stared up at the ceiling, yawning. He hadn’t thought about how dull being in prison would be. Of course, he could probably get out if he wanted to but he knew it was better to be patient. He just wished he knew what time it was. There was no light coming through the window but that didn't really narrow it down. He momentarily considered shadow walking to find a clock but decided after his multiple collapses he shouldn't really be using his power so trivially. He hadn't tested it since he'd arrived at Fangtasia, for all he knew he was still too drained to do anything.

Tara had gone quiet as well, whether she’d fallen asleep or just didn’t feel like talking Stiles didn’t know. She hadn't said much after he'd revealed his history, which he understood. It sounded crazy to him and he'd lived it.

The silence was broken by keys and the creak of the cell block door, followed by footsteps.

A peculiar sensation rippled through Stiles, like every single nerve was jolted in rapid succession. A dizziness settled over him, but not the nauseous lightheaded dizziness that came before he collapsed. This was… euphoric. He felt heat flooding his body and his breath became ragged as he stumbled to his feet, moving to press against the bars in an effort to catch a glimpse of what had triggered it.

“Tara, wake up. This lady paid your bail. You're free to go. Straighten up. I don't wanna see you back in here again.” Kenya said, before turning to address someone Stiles couldn't see. “My shift's over in five minutes. There's papers to sign on the way out. You know the drill.”

“Thank you, Kenya.”

“Who are you? Why'd you pay my bail?”

“My name's Maryann. Forrester. And I'd like to help you, if you'll let me.”

“What are you, some kind of social worker?”

“Yeah, that's about right. Kenya knows me. I'm in and out of her all the time with people in your position.”

“My position.” Tara’s voice had started to take on a defensive tone.

“DUIs, minor assaults, public drunkenness. You know, those times when things go just a little too far. It can happen to anyone. Now, I expect you have your reasons?”

“Yeah. I got reasons.” The defensiveness had amped up.

“Well, I would be very happy to give you a ride home,” Maryann offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Well, they gave me your address. You can't walk there, it's too far.” Despite the concern in her voice and the continuing warmth that was flowing through him, something about her persistence grated on the rational part of Stiles’ mind. It was just… hard to focus on when the rest of him felt so good.

“I can... I got kicked out.”

“You don't have anywhere to go? No family? No friends?”

“I don't want them to see me like this. It's okay. I'll think of something.”

“I mean, you can stay at mine,” Stiles called, slotting his arms through the bars. “But I live next door to Rene so…”

Maryann took a few steps, moving to stand in front of Stiles’ cell. A half smile played across her lips as she swept her eyes over him. They slowly moved to lock with his and Stiles felt a fierce jolt inside of him. The shock subsided quickly, replaced with an ecstasy that bordered on painful.  Part of him wanted to look down, sure that if he checked his arms he’d see black veins, but he couldn’t tear his gaze free. A peculiar sense of recognition stirred inside of him, a kinship that he didn’t fully understand. Maryann’s smile grew, before she turned away to focus back on Tara.

“Tara... I'm sure you've barely slept or eaten. Why don't you come to my home? Just till you get things figured out.”

“I don't know, I...

“Oh, no, no, there's plenty of room. I do this all the time. It's sort of an informal halfway house.”

“Doesn't seem right.”

“I know what you mean. But you can shower, you can wash your clothes. You can let me feed you. Then you can go on your way and my conscience will be clear.”

“You're not a Jesus person, are you?”

“No. No. Nothing against religion but not a Jesus person. Okay. Well here's my card, in case you change your mind.” She started towards the exit. “Good luck, Tara.”

Tara hesitated for a moment before calling after her.

“Wait.”

Stiles stood mute as Tara followed the strange woman out. The moment the cellblock was empty, his legs gave way and he collapsed onto the floor. His body was trembling and he felt like something had been ripped away from him. He tasted copper on his tongue, his fangs having sprouted at some point without him realising. 

He took a few deep breaths, concentrating on calming himself. Slowly his breathing returned to normal and the world steadied once more.

What is she?

Whatever she was, he was pretty sure he’d just found what had pulled him to Bon Temp to begin with.

Stiles was still lying on the floor, half asleep, when he became aware that he was being watched. He rolled onto his side, opening his eyes to see a pair of shiny professional looking shoes. He lifted his head.

“Peter,”

The wolf crouched, the ghost of a smirk on his face. His eyes ran over Stiles’ bruises and, although his expression didn’t change, something flared inside his eyes.

“Darling, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

“What time is it?”

“Around 11. I got here as fast as I could.”

“How much did Sookie tell you?” Stiles asked, moving into a sitting position.

“The basics. You defended her from an attack. Assault charges. I had her send me photographs of her bruises. Now, tell me everything that happened and I will get you out of here.”

So Stiles did. He told Peter about the night at the bar, about hearing Sookie scream before something stopped her, about Rene punching him and about getting him into the walk in. Then he told him about Andy Bellefleur, the arrest, their previous encounters. Peter stayed quiet throughout, nodding occasionally. When Stiles finished, Peter straightened up.

“I’ve got this. But i need to know, how far do you want me to take things?”

Stiles considered for a moment. Peter could get him out, but the wolf could also do far more damage if he allowed it. He could see the anger in the man’s eyes, carefully contained but unmistakable. He thought of how much he hated seeing a cop abuse his position to settle personal grudges, how unfair it was that so many of the people at the station in Beacon Hills had been killed by the kanima yet people like Andy Bellefleur got to run around unchecked.

“Eviscerate him.”

Peter smirked and nodded. He went to the cell block door, leaned out and shouted.

“Does anyone actually work here?”

Stiles strained his ears and heard the faint sound of hurried steps, of muffled curses, before Andy’s voice rang out through the cell block.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Peter Hale. I am Stiles Stilinski’s lawyer and I’m here to discuss his release.”

“He’s not being released.”

“We’ll see. Now, is your sheriff in?”

“No.”

“Call him. I want him present during the interview.”

“I am the officer assigned to this.”

“And according to my client, you have demonstrated behaviour that falls under misconduct towards him. Call your sheriff, or I will escalate this matter.”

There was a moment of silence and then footsteps retreated. Peter returned to Stiles’ cell. 

“What a vile little man.”

Peter said it so casually that Stiles couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Peter’s face softened slightly and he crouched down, reaching through the bars to entwine their fingers.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. I like it here but it’s been hard.”

Peter squeezed his hand.

“Not much longer. I’ll be able to leave soon.” He paused, considering his words. “I found one. In Nevada. I was actually in Las Vegas when Sookie called”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been tracking them for a while. They’re migrating, leaving bodies occasionally but not enough to really draw attention. I’ll get them soon, before the Hunters pick up on the pattern. Then i can officially cut ties with Beacon Hills.”

“When you do… would you want us to go somewhere else?”

“I was thinking New York.” Stiles bit his lip. Peter sighed softly. “You want to stay?”

“Kinda… yeah.”

“I can’t say I ever imagined myself settling down in the middle of nowhere Louisiana but… if it’s what you want… i’d be willing to try.”

Before Stiles got a chance to reply, Peter’s head turned sharply towards the cellblock door. He rose quickly to his feet, Stiles doing the same. A few minutes later, Andy came in with Sheriff Dearborne beside him.

“Evening Sheriff Dearborne,” Stiles greeted. “Sorry if we got you out of bed.”

“Stiles,” the Sheriff nodded before looking at Peter. “You’re the lawyer?”

“Yes. Peter Hale.”

“Okay. Follow me, i’ll take you to the interview room. Andy, get Stiles out of cell.”

A disgruntled Andy unlocked the cell and handcuffed Stiles, before ushering him out of the cellblock and over to the interview room he’d been taken to during his very first visit to the station. Once inside, Sheriff Dearborne seated himself across from Peter and Stiles, Andy went to sit beside him but stopped when Peter cleared his throat and gave a pointed look at Stiles’ handcuffs. Andy removed them and slouched into his seat.

“Let me start by saying, thank you Sheriff Dearborne for joining us. Did the detective explain why I requested your presence?”

“No he didn’t.”

“Well, the reason is simple. This detective has demonstrated that he holds a grudge against my client and has already acted against police regulations in pursuit of his petty vendetta. Stiles came to the station previously, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And following that encounter, your detective looked up my client’s information and contacted a family member, informing them of his location. Stiles is over eighteen, the detective had no right to do so and by sharing the information, he actively placed Stiles in a position of danger. Stiles did not file a complaint at the time, as he was fearful of what the detective might do. However, once this matter is closed, I will be filing one with the Professional Standards Bureau. At minimum. Stiles informs me that this appears to be a recurring pattern with the detective, using police procedures to settle personal scores.”

“What does any of this have to do with him assaulting someone?” Andy snapped.

“I am merely laying out the reasoning behind my request for the Sheriff’s attendance,” Peter responded calmly. “I do not believe that Detective Bellefleur is capable of providing unprejudiced judgement.”

“Understood.”

Peter gestured for them to proceed. The Sheriff nodded to Andy who seemed to puff up a little bit, no doubt trying to make himself look more intimidating.

“Mr Stilinski was arrested for assault against Mr Lenier. During a gathering at Merlotte’s Bar, an altercation took place inside the bar which resulted in Mr Lenier being knocked unconscious and locked in the walk-in refrigerator.”

“You’re referring to him defending his friend, Sookie Stackhouse, from an attack by Mr Lenier who was attempting to choke her?” Peter asked.

“That’s his story, yes. However, the bar was dark and there is no way of verifying that Miss Stackhouse was attacked by Mr Lenier. The only people that we know were in the room were her, Mr Lenier and Mr Stilinski. He could have easily been the one to attack her. Or she might not have been attacked at all.”

Peter removed a slim envelope from his pocket and removed two photographs from inside.

“These photos were taken by Miss Stackhouse. They show the bruising on her throat, which is consistent with manual strangulation. So clearly, she was attacked. And the finger marks look too large for Stiles to have done it. But, whether you choose to believe that Mr Lenier was the one who attacked her or not can be set aside for the time being. When he was found in the walk in, was he still unconscious?”

“Yes.”

“Was he face down or face up?”

“Face down”

“Stiles, can you show the officers your wrists?” Peter asked. Stiles placed his arms on the table. Alongside the ingrained ligature scars were a ring of bruises clustered around each wrist, thicker in places where multiple fingers had pressed down. Andy bristled, clearly picking up on what Peter was implying.

“Those could be from his handcuffs.”

“If you placed handcuffs on him hard enough to bruise, that’s yet another damning indictment of your ‘abilities’ as an officer of the law. Besides, handcuffs would leave a mark of consistent thickness. These are fingerprint bruises, which is consistent with Stiles’ statement at the time of the incident that he was held down by Mr Lenier, a fact that is supported by the bruising on his face and the lack of defensive wounds. He was unable to protect himself, which also means he would have had no way to knock Mr Lenier unconscious.”

“A set of shelves was pulled down, he could have knocked it down with his leg,” Andy insisted. Beside him, Sheriff Dearborne closed his eyes, clearly exhausted by his colleague. 

“And if he had, then it would have been accidental or self defense. Other than being knocked out, did Mr Lenier have any injuries?”

“He had five lacerations on his arm.”

“Stiles?” Peter looked at him for an explanation.

“My fingernails, when he first started hitting me. I tried to push him off, dug my nails in. That’s why he had those.”

“Any other questions Detective Bellefleur?”

“No,” Sheriff Dearborne said before Andy could speak. “The assault charges are dropped. Stiles, you can go.”

“Bud-” Andy started to protest.

“No Andy!” The Sheriff shut him down. “They’re leaving, you’re going to fill out the necessary paperwork and when I come back in for my shift, we’re going to have a very long conversation.”

Peter put a hand on Stiles’ back, guiding him from his seat and out of the interview room.

“I told you I’d get you out,” he said smugly as they left the station.

“I never doubted you,” Stiles told him. “I’m just confused. Rene had to know that those charges wouldn’t stick. Was he just trying to be petty? I outed him as a serial killer, you’d think he’d have bigger priorities instead of-” He stopped abruptly, freezing in place. Panic seized him and he tried to summon his shadows to transport him but they didn’t come.

“Stiles?” Peter asked.

“We need to get to Sookie. Fast.”

All the lights were on at the Stackhouse home. After Sookie had called Peter (a nervewracking experience after she remembered some of the things Stiles had said about him), everyone had lapsed largely into silence. Jason had shown up an hour later to check on Sookie, with Amy in tow, and that had just aggravated matters. There was a palpable tension between the couple along with a nervous energy. They had eaten dinner before retreating back to the living room, where Sam did his best to comfort Sookie. She was blaming herself for Stiles’ arrest. Of course, that had been when Bill had shown up and attacked Sam for touching her. Sookie had kicked him out, rescinded his invitation and curled up in a ball of frayed nerves in the armchair.

She found herself wishing Tina was there, something she could hold and comfort herself with the simple joy of the cat’s purrs. Those thoughts quickly turned sour as the image of Tina’s makeshift grave came to mind.

Stiles’ phone vibrated beside her, lighting up with a text. She let out a small sigh of relief as she scanned it.

“Peter texted. He’s made it to town, he’s heading to the station. Says Stiles should be out soon.”

“Thank the lord,” Adele murmured. Sam gave a slight smile. The only person who didn’t seem happy was Jason.

“Who’s Peter?” he asked.

“A friend of Stiles. He’s a lawyer. Stiles asked me to call him when he got taken in. He said he should be able to get the charges dropped pretty quickly,” Sookie explained.

“Are we sure that’s a good thing?”

“What do you mean, Jason?”

Jason looked around nervously, eyes flicking to Amy in hopes of getting support from her. She quietly excused herself, going to the kitchen to make more coffee.

“I just… we don’t know the guy, not really.”

“He saved my life. Rene was trying to kill me.”

“I mean, we don’t know it was Rene.” Sookie glared, Jason continued hurriedly. “Stiles has barely been here two weeks. Rene has been here longer, shouldn’t we trust his word over a stranger? You have to admit, the kid’s pretty weird.”

“Jason Stackhouse,” Adele said firmly. “If you can’t say something nice, you stay quiet. Stiles has helped Sookie out, he’s helped me out. He’s just had a rough time of things, you will not cast aspersions on his character, is that understood?”

“Yes gran…”

Sam’s phone rang, the ringtone a sharp knife through the charged conversation. He stepped into the hall to answer it, returning a few minutes later looking apologetic.

“There’s some kind of crisis down at the bar.”

“I thought you closed for tonight?”

“I did but Terry went in to grab something. Looks like someone broke in. I have to go check the damage, but i’ll come back as soon as I can. Jason, you take care of them, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam left, the sound of his car quickly fading down the road. Jason sighed and looked over to the still annoyed Sookie.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything when I said it might not have been Rene. I just… i’m just hoping that my best friend ain’t a serial killer is all.”

“I get it, i do. I wish it was someone else.” Sookie gave him a strained smile. “I know Arlene has had some bad boyfriends but they’ve never murdered anyone before.” Jason let out a humourless laugh. “So, is everything okay with you and Amy? You seem… kinda tense?”

“We had a fight, nothing serious. I just-”

There was a loud crash from the kitchen. Jason got to his feet.

“Amy?” he called. No answer. He looked to his sister and his gran. “Stay here.”

Jason crept from the room towards the kitchen. As he drew closer, he could hear a steady dripping noise.

“Amy?” he called out again, softer this time.

Drip

Drip

Drip

Jason stepped through the kitchen door. The broken coffee pot lay in shards on the floor, coffee forming a cooling puddle around it.

Drip

Drip

He inched closer, moving around the table. A strangled noise broke free when he saw Amy. She was sprawled against the wall, half sitting half laid down. A jagged tear bisected her throat, a painful vicious looking cut filled with rage. Blood stained her top, ran down her arms. One hand was rested on top of an overturned chair, ribbons of crimson hanging from her fingertips, suspended for a moment before falling to the tile with a quiet drip.

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