#*s:steo

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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.

“Theo!” Stiles bellows once more, ignoring someone else yelling at him. He doesn’t care. Not at all. They’re lucky he waited until 6 am because he would’ve been ready to strangle Theo at 3 am too. Maybe he should’ve done it. It is entirely possible Theo’s door would have been open at that time.  

Fine.

He’s going to get into this room one way or another. 

Before he’s got the chance to move away, however, the lock clicks and the door creeps open. 

Theo looks, for the lack of a better word, terrible. His skin is pale, his eyes glossy, and he leans heavily on the door, almost like his legs won’t be able to support him for very long. He blinks at him, slowly, and leans towards Stiles for a moment before swaying back. It takes everything in him not to grab Theo before he falls on his ass. Come to think of it, Theo wasn’t really himself yesterday. Usually, he is the one to step in when Donovan takes it too far. Yesterday, however, Kira ended the argument.

Maybe that’s why.  

All of Stiles’ anger evaporates at once. That would certainly explain Theo’s weird text message. ‘Can you stop looking at me like you hate me?’. Sure, that text message could’ve been sent to him by accident – except Theo doesn’t make accidents like that. He lets out a breath and reaches for Theo’s face. His pink cheeks are already telling Stiles everything he needs to know, yet he’d rather make sure.  

Carefully, he brushes his fingertips over Theo’s forehead. It’s slick with sweat, and strands of hair cling to it. Stiles barely resists the urge to run his fingers through Theo’s hair. All the feelings he’s buried deep, deep threaten to spill out at once. Stiles grinds his teeth, forcing himself to swallow each and every single one of them, and puts the back of his hand against Theo’s forehead instead.  

As expected, he’s burning up. 

Theo makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and grabs Stiles’ hand, keeping it pressed against his skin – almost as if it helped him cool down somehow. “Stay,” Theo mutters, eyes closed. “You never stay.”

Stiles opens his mouth, ready for a scalding remark. The words, however, get stuck somewhere just underneath his jaw, refusing to roll over his tongue. He can’t even bring himself to pull his hand away. After all, Theo isn’t wrong. Stiles never stays, but Theo was the one who left. Sure, Theo was ten and didn’t exactly have much of a say in his parents’ plan, and while not living in the same city hurt like hell, what broke Stiles was the radio silence. Theo simply up and vanished as if he never even existed in the first place. 

And then he returned, acted like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t break little Stiles’ heart. 

“Please.”

It’s breaking all over again, just for an entirely different reason. “Okay,” Stiles whispers, allowing Theo to drag him into his bedroom. If Stiles is entirely honest, he’s doubts Theo has been fully aware of what’s happening around him. Considering he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow, Stiles wonders if he's even been fully awake at all. He drags the blanket over Theo’s sleeping form and turns away. Leaving would be the right thing to do. Theo probably didn’t mean for him to stay. Maybe he couldn’t even tell who was standing in front of him.  

Nevertheless, he can’t bring himself to leave. Growing up with a sick mother made Stiles hesitant of leaving sick people unattended. Most of the time, he is overreacting. Still, Theo seems completely out of it, and a high fever could turn bad quickly – and Stiles doubts Donovan is going to take care of Theo, or anyone here, really. The people Stiles would consider Theo’s friends aren’t part of this fraternity. Stiles would like to believe that not even Theo would be here if not for his father’s insistence on keeping up appearances. 

Or maybe he’s just hoping that’s the case. After all, Stiles hasn’t seen Theo for eight years. 

Sighing, Stiles strolls through Theo’s room. It’s clean, almost sterile, with white walls and no personal belongings aside from the stuff related to his studies. When Theo was a kid, his bedroom was full off clutter, little league trophies, pictures of his friends and sister, books and DVDs, clothes, and half-finished paintings. His bedroom used to be lived in. Now, everything’s at its designated spot and the room feels as if someone sucked out all its life. 

No thanks to Mrs. Raeken’s influence. 

He is still snooping quietly, flipping through books, opening drawers – when else would he have the chance, right? Maybe he can find something to kick Theo out of the lacrosse team. The guy loathed lacrosse when he was younger. Besides, he’s also on the football team. If he quit lacrosse, his coach would make him captain at once – and who wouldn’t want to be captain of the football team? It comes with glory and lots of sex.

Then again, Theo can probably get his dick wet whenever he wants.

Stiles grimaces at the thought, hating that he immediately thinks of Tracy. It’s hard to tell how Theo feels about her, but Tracy is head over heels. Just thinking about it makes Stiles’ clench his teeth. His stomach hardens. He hates her. Irrationally so, he’s fully aware of that. They’ve met twice at parties, and all Tracy did was hang onto Theo’s arm as if she turns into dust the second, she lets go. If only she weren’t so fucking pretty with her long brown hair and perfect figure. Then again, she’s not particularly smart. Kira mentioned she’s failing a few of her classes because she struggles with the general coursework and is more interested in everything that’s not her studies. That’s a big fat minus in Theo’s book. If he took anything to heart his parents drilled into him from a young age, it’s that a good education, determination, and the pursuit of a goal are extremely important.

Even if they were in any form of relationship now, it would never last. Theo would never settle down with someone like her. He’d be more interested in someone like-

Stiles gives his head a shake.

Nope. Not going down that road.

It’s probably a good idea to get his mind off Theo for a while. He spent so much time snooping; the sun is already setting.

Scrunching up his face, Stiles sits down at Theo’s desk and drags the laptop towards him. It’s a long shot, really, but his passwords for everything used to be his nickname for his sister and Theo’s grandmother’s birthday. Knowing his luck, it might be a different one now. Still, it’s worth a shot if he doesn’t want to end up spiraling until Theo wakes up again. He opens the laptop up, trying to remember Grandma Raeken’s birthday, when the background picture causes his heart to skip a beat. 

Oh.

Staring back at him are Tara, with the biggest and proudest grin on her face, ruffling her little brother’s hair. Theo is mid-movement to put his Little League cap back on, scowling up at his sister. Then there is Stiles himself, just nine-years old, Little League trophy clutched in his hands, doubling over laughing. 

This very moment happened exactly two months before the Raeken’s move, and six months before Tara’s death. She looked so incredibly happy here. 

“I hated it when she did that.”

Stiles jolts and slams the laptop shut, wincing a little at the sound of the impact. “You’re awake,” he says and pushes his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Although Theo doesn’t look much better, the additional couple hours of sleep he’s gotten seemed to have cleared his head. His eyes look a lot more focused now; their intense stare rooting him to the spot on his chair.

“You’re here.” Theo’s tone is even, calm. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing the situation as his gaze flicks from Stiles to the laptop and back again, now focused on Stiles’ hand as he makes a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t think you were actually here.”

Furrowing his brows, Stiles lowers his hands into his lap. “You thought I was a fever dream?” Stiles quirks a brow. If that’s the case, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get Theo to a hospital to get checked out. Now, however, he seems a lot more awake and aware of everything going on around him. “Is that why you sent me that stupid text?” Because that is why he’s here. Not to take care of Theo. Not to drive him to a doctor. He’s here because Theo has the fucking audacity to act offended by Stiles’ glaring at him.

Theo visibly winces and turns to look out the window. “That’s why you’re here.”

“You know,” Stiles says, getting to his feet with a shake of his head, “if you didn’t constantly try to upstage me in everything I do, I wouldn’t look at you like that.”

“Upstaging you?” Theo stares at him again, brows raised in utter confusion. “I’m not upstaging you.”

Stiles huffs out a breath and sits down again. That’s just ridiculous. Theo is and always has been one of the most competitive people in the world. He wants, no, he needs to be on top. Always and in absolutely everything he’s doing. While in the few classes they’re sharing, Stiles remains to be the winner – although Theo is very close behind – there’s nothing he can do in Lacrosse. Theo came in, rained on his parade, and too his spot as Co-Captain from him with no issue at all. That’s absolutely no cause for concern regarding his scholarship, it was still a nice feeling after his shitty high school experience. Plus, it’s Theo. Who hates lacrosse. Who is already co-captain of the football team. Who is just pissed that Stiles hasn’t welcomed him back with open arms.

“I’m just trying-“ Theo stops himself, pressing his lips together. “We used to be best friends.”

“And then you fucked off and acted like I didn’t even exist,” Stiles whispers.

Closing his eyes, Theo sinks back into his pillows. “I thought it was easier to lose you all at once than over time.” The words are sharper than any knife could ever be. It's a talent Theo has always possessed. Looks like he’s got the chance to refine it over the years.

Stiles isn’t any less successful in hitting where it hurts, but the words took all of his fight away in one foul swoop. He presses his hands together and stares at the ground. “Why’d you never—” but Stiles cuts himself off with a wince. How could Theo have ever said anything at all? Stiles made sure to flee the scene as quickly as possible whenever he appeared.

You never stay.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he gets up from the chair and crosses the room. Stiles kicks off his shoes without hesitation. It’s either now or never; if he doesn’t stay this time, Theo is not going to give him another chance, not when he’s opening the door this wide.

Theo draws his brows together. “What are you doing?”

Stiles tosses his jacket over the chair. “I’m staying,” he says resolutely, briefly glancing at Theo before he climbs over him and settles next to his head.

“Stiles, I’m sick.”

“Yeah, well…” Stiles doesn’t really have anything to say to that. Staying now most definitely will only make him sick as well, but he’d rather get sick than lose Theo like that again. “Just sleep,” he whispers, gently tugging the blanket up over Theo’s shoulders. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Theo raises his brows, and his eyes roam over his features almost as if he’s trying to catch him in a lie. Then he smiles. “Okay,” Theo whispers and closes his eyes, settling into a comfortable position next to him.

Despite knowing better, Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s short stands. It would be best for him to ignore the way his heart rejoices at the way Theo smiles because of this simple touch. Stiles closes his eyes and leans his head back. He’s fucked. He’s so thoroughly fucked.

Stiles glances down at Theo again, unable to hide his smile this time.

They never made their relationship a secret, but they were private – too private for the media, who decided to spin their own stories. Stiles too the brunt of that. A new rumored romance at least once a month. Interview questions from journalist. Stiles reaffirming that he’s still dating Theo but refusing to give any further comments. A lot of people online kept coming to his defense, giving the media the engagement it so desperately craved, and the cycle went on and on.

Even when Stiles stopped commenting at all as his relationship crumbled behind the scenes, nothing changed. Theo’s possessive streak has been an issue from the beginning. It was manageable. Easy to handle. The constant onslaught of rumors, however, caused it to fly off the handle. After multiple near misses, Stiles decided to leave before they both explode and so or say something they cannot come back from.

The world learned of their break-up because Tracy posted pictures of herself and Theo everywhere.

Stiles, in return, fucked more people than he can count. He became who the media told him he is. Funny, really, that out of the two of them Stiles turned into a fuckboy.

And now he’s hiding in the last row of a church Theo never wanted to get married in. He knew about the wedding long before Josh and Corey popped up on his doorstep. Tracy announced it the very day of their engagement. Of Corey and Josh hadn’t continuously insisted, Stiles wouldn’t be doing this. He wouldn’t be here, putting his heart – and pride – on the line in front of too many strangers and at least twenty invited paparazzi, waiting outside the church, and, in turn, the whole fucking world. If Theo’s closest friends are right, all Stiles has to do is get up, be seen, and Theo would drop everything to take him back no questions asked. But Stiles knows he can only ask this of Theo if he’s sure they work out, if he wants to stay with him, knowing and accepting every part of Theo.

Only then can he allow Theo to uproot his life.

The longer Stiles waits, the worse it will get for Tracy too. Not that she would’ve cared. She tried to get with Theo every chance she got. Still, Stiles wonders what would feel worse, waiting until the officiant asks him to speak – and what if he freezes? – or ripping the band aid off and stop the ceremony from even starting.

Shifting on the pew, Stiles lets out a breath and allows himself to look away from Theo at the front of the church and glances at Josh and Corey, looking around as if waiting for something – someone. He had ample time to call Theo before today, to stop all of this from even happening.

He didn’t.

Is that answer enough?

His heart aches.

Stiles can’t let Theo do this. He can’t bring himself to miss what might be his very last chance.

Stiles takes another deep breath, taking in the guests in their expensive dresses and suits. He blocks out their chatter, the laughter, the good mood he’s about to drop a bomb on. All he has to do is get up and out of the dark corner he’s been hiding in, to step into the aisle. The moment he does, people will notice. Theo will see him. It feels like a small miracle nobody has until now. Stiles half expected Tracy had handed out flyers with his face on them to make sure he won’t ruin anything.

However, that’s exactly what he’s about to do.

Stiles cannot wait a second longer. He doesn’t know when the ceremony is about to start. He takes a steadying breath and slips out of the pew.

Theo people closest to him glance up. Although Stiles keeps his face angled away from them, he can tell the moment they’ve recognized him. There’s a shift in the air. Their quiet conversation turns into urgent whispers. It’s not hard to imagine how they’re trying to tell people in front of them. A doomed game of telephone that won’t reach Tracy in time. If someone tries to stop him, Theo will notice.

Stiles has made a decision.

For the first time in five years, he can finally breathe again.

Let’s see how long that lasts. His heartbeat picks up the closer he gets to the aisle. Every second, every step brings him closer to the moment Theo will spot him. The whispers seem to get louder around him, echoing in the church as the conversations die around him. Do they know who he is to Theo? Are thy aware of their history? Their feelings? Can they guess why Stiles is here? If they do, they-

Who cares?

Stiles isn’t here because of them. He’s here for Theo. He glances in his direction, watches as Theo scrolls on his phone, running a hand through his hair. It’s longer now, the way he wears it during off-season. It suits him. To be honest, Stiles likes it best on him, even more so when he’s sporting a designer stubble. Sadly, Tracy made sure that today will be stubble free.

His fingers tremble, and he curls his hands into fists then pushes them into his pants, unsure what to do with them. He can hardly wave at Theo. Should he wave at Theo?

No.

The inside of the church tips. On the left side, the conversations have grown silent. The right side has yet to realize something’s amiss.

Swallowing, Stiles glances back to the front at the same time Josh elbows Corey and points at him. The other groomsmen turn to look as well. Tara, who has been standing a little of to the side, widens her eyes. She smiles, contrasting the look of horror on the bridesmaids’ faces. One of them, presumably the maid of honor, breaks away from the group, her light blue dress fluttering after her. Every click of her heels is a gunshot going off inside.

The sound halts more conversations and catches Theo’s attention. Finally, he looks up from his phone. “What,” he asks, his tone cold and laces with annoyance as he studies the other bridesmaids, “is the issue now?”

None of the girls offer a reply.

Josh bounces over and taps Theo’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear.

Stiles steps into the aisle. He cannot bring himself to look away from Theo for even a second. So, he sees it all – the way Theo’s lips part, his eyes widening as they search for him in the mass of people, how they light up with a smile when he finally finds him, standing out like a sore thumb in his white dress shirt and black slacks. To tie. No jacket. But sneakers. Casual. Low key. The way they imagined their weddings to be on the few occasions they’ve talked about it.  

The phone slips from Theo’s fingers. The crack of it hitting the ground is followed by deafening silence. Nobody utters a single word as Theo is moving. Towards him.

“Theodore!” Mrs. Raeken’s voice cuts into the silence. Her eyes narrowed. The dark green dress probably the most expensive in the whole church.

Stiles didn’t miss her, and he’s sure, that feeling is reciprocated.

Theo doesn’t stop. Instead, he fidgets with his hand halfway down the aisle. He doesn’t run, and Stiles never expected him to. Just as Theo most likely didn’t expect Stiles to meet him halfway or jump into his arms. That’s not who they are.

Stiles’ heart hammers in his chest as he watches Theo approach, as he sees nobody else moving. It’s like the world around them has frozen, like it stopped turning for everyone but them.

And then Theo drops this engagement ring causing the church to erupt.

But Theo simply grabs Stiles’ waist and presses him against the wall, startling a laugh of out Stiles – one Theo steals from his lips as he crashes their mouths together. Their bodies fit together like they used to, like nothing has changed, and Stiles’ heart slows as its missing piece has returned. There is no question about this, about them. The world narrows around them until they’re the only people to exist. Theo kisses him like a starving person, lips and tongue and teeth, and Stiles pulls him closer by the collar of his jacket.

He's returned home after years and years of self-imposed exile.

“Get a room,” Tara mutters. Stiles can’t tell if it’s her voice or the hurried clicking of heels that pulled them apart.

“Let’s go, boys!” Josh drums his hands on Theo’s shoulders before following Corey and Tara out, hollering, “let’s go. Let’s go!”

Chuckling, Theo looks up at Stiles. His features soften for a moment, and he cups Stiles’ cheeks. “You ready?”

Stiles hums. “Waiting on you.” Truth is, he’s not ready to face the real world. He knows what happens once they leave. The questions. The pictures. The media shitstorm that Lydia will hate him for. But for Theo, he’s quite willing to risk it all. So, he intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand.   

Theo pulls him along, leaving the church without sparing a single glance back.

Stiles does, however, and he looks past everyone else, finding Tracy’s eyes at once. She’s not crying, not screaming, not furiously making her way towards them. Her eyes narrow slightly as she raises her chin. She doesn’t seem surprised, just determined to keep her composure in check.

Someone calls Theo’s name, but he’s already pushing the doors open. He squeezes his hand once more and forces Stiles’ attention back to the reality in front of him – a shitton of cameras flashing, pointed at them, and a barraged of questions hurled in their general direction. Between them and the paparazzi, a black SUV with Corey hanging out of on of the windows.

“Come on!”

They hurry down the stars. The backdoor flies open and Corey scoots to the other side of the backseat.

Theo ushers Stiles in first then slams the door shut once he sits down himself, hand still holding on to Stiles’. “Step on it.”

Tara gives him a thumbs up.

A few moments later, they’re in the street, heading towards a destination Stiles doesn’t care much about as long as he reaches it with Theo by his side, who turns to look at him, cocked eyebrow and smirk firmly on his lips. “What took you so long?”

Stiles huffs out a breath. “Don’t even try to pin this on me, Raeken.”

“I swear,” Tara says before her brother has the chance to say anything, “if you start arguing, I will turn this car around.”

Theo barks out a laugh.

Sighing, Stiles drops his hand.

“You suck at this,” Theo chuckles.

Stiles bristles and whips around.

“Not you.” Theo quickly leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Jackson.”

“If you can do it better, please, after you.”

“I think,” Lydia interrupts what easily could’ve turned into either a ridiculous competition or an argument, “Stiles needs a break.” Offering him a small smile, she leans back in her pool chair and pulls her blanket up to her shoulders. Her curls move in the cool breeze.

Jackson huffs, but whatever complaint he intended to throw around got stuck in his throat the very moment Lydia places a hand on his thigh. Instead, he falls back against his chair and crosses his arms with something that could only be described as a pout.

Theo wraps his arms around him and kisses the nape of his neck. “You’ll throw shadow stars around in no time, babe.” It’s supposed to be an encouragement, yet it sounds like Stiles has fallen off a bike and worries to get back on. He sounds as if it didn’t matter that Stiles created weapons for the sole purpose of attacking him.

That it didn’t matter he tried to kill him.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Unless maybe Stiles is simply bitter and prone to holding a grudge. But Theo holds grudges too. His hatred for Scott is rooted in a fight from their past, one he never forgave him for. Yet when it comes to Stiles, he bounces back like it’s nothing.

Stiles wonders if he should be grateful for this. If perhaps he should be happy that Theo doesn’t hate him after everything he’s done.

He would lie if he said he wasn't utterly relieved that Theo still wanted to be with him, yet, part of him needed Theo to at least show some sort of emotion regarding everything that happened. He needed a reaction. Not the prayer of, ‘it wasn’t you’ everyone keeps reciting whenever he brings it up. That’s only pushing the reality away from them.

Because this is Stiles. 

And now, he is scared of touching Theo, who has no reservations at all.

It’s not fair.

Stiles pulls Theo’s arms away from him and gets to his feet. “I’m going to bed.” He would’ve preferred to go to his own bed, with Isaac on the ground next to him, so he can check on him whenever he wakes up and see he's okay. But Stiles knows they’ll have to go back to normal at one point — and today would be that day whether he wants to or not because his dad and Jordan just so happened to work a double tonight. They want this to happen in a safe environment, and being with Theo is about the safest he can be.

“Okay, let’s head-“

“No,” Stiles smiles at Theo, trying to somehow diminish the hardness of this one word, “it’s fine. You don’t have to.” Although Stiles isn’t looking at the others, he can feel the heaviness in the air as they’re exchanging what they probably think are sneaking glances. They’re not. Not even a little bit.

Their silence lasts a little too long. “Sure,” Theo agrees eventually.

“G’night.”

“Night.”

Stiles can feel Theo staring at him when he slips into the living room. His gaze is heavy, almost dragging him back to his warmth. But he needs space. To breathe. To think. To get settled for a night that’s not going to be easy. He hurries upstairs, takes two steps at a time and switches the lights on the moment he’s entered Theo’s room. He glances around.

There’s nobody there.

The only shadow he needs to be afraid of is his own.

But he’s not afraid of people jumping him in the dark, the people who want him don’t need cover. He’s afraid of the dark because it’s whispering to him, bad things, wrong things. It’s promising him power, unlimited, destructive — violent. He’s never felt more uncomfortable in the dark than he does right now.

And he hates it.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he crosses the room and turns on the lamp on the nightstand then switches the overhead light off.

It’s so fucking stupid. He feels like a little kid afraid of the basement. It shouldn’t be like that. This is supposed to be his element.

Stiles studies the shadows, dancing on the walls. Everything, every single inch of it was at his very fingertips only a few days ago. He’s sure it’s still there. All he has to do is reach out.

The door clicks open.

Stiles presses his lips together.

“Don’t even start.” Theo closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Theo crosses the room, brushing past him, “your body posture tells me everything I need to know.”

Letting out a breath, Stiles relaxes his shoulders and watches Theo plop onto his bed, legs spread, eyes narrowed. “What?” He can feel the argument brewing beneath their skins. It’s been coming the whole day, every time Theo shifts closer, Stiles pulls away. They spent the whole day together. Neither Jackson nor Theo went to school. The brothers tried their best to act normal around him, but as good as an actor Theo is, his mask slipped every time Stiles pulled away from him.

“So, you’re going to be scared of being near me for the rest of your life?” Theo presses his lips together, trying to feign disinterest — something he’s usually terrible at, and he’s not exactly doing a great job now. Unsurprisingly. Theo has never been disinterested in anything when it comes to Stiles.

“I’m not scared.”

“Right.”

Stiles grinds his teeth. “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, clenching his hands into fists.

“I did.” Theo pushes to his feet again, anger radiating off him. “I stayed away for a week, and it’s killing me.”

“Do you really think this was easy for me?” Stiles shoots back. Staying away from Theo made everything so much harder, the healing, dealing with his nightmares. The only thing keeping him sane was Isaac's constant presence in his room. That way he knew that at least he was safe. “I can’t hurt you again, Theo. I am not safe to be around until I get this under control.”

“Then let me help you!” Theo reaches out to grab his face.

Stiles slaps his hands away, and the pain on his mate’s face hurts more than anything else. It’s agony, bright and burning. No matter what he does, staying away or being close, he’ll always end up hurting the person he loves the most. “I can’t—”

“No, you won’t.” Theo shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s a difference.”

“I don’t trust myself around you. Not right now.” The admission burns on his tongue, but honesty is the least he can offer Theo right now.

“That’s okay.”

Stiles stares at him for a moment. What the hell? “Nothing about this is okay.”

Still, Theo smiles, like he knows something Stiles isn’t aware of. “I’ll trust you. Enough for the both of us.” He makes it sound easy, possible, as if the unwavering faith Theo has in him could somehow change what happened, what could very well happen again.

It’s not that easy.

Yet when Theo reaches out to him again, Stiles allows to be wrapped up in his arms, and it feels like coming home after a long nightmare.

———

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be alone at the moment?”

Stiles closes his eyes for a deep breath then fixes his gaze on the tombstone in front of him once more. “I don’t need a babysitter.” He pushes his hands in the pockets of Theo’s hoodie. The scent of his aftershave is distinct. It keeps him grounded, but his heart still beats like a drum.

She greets him with a slight smile. “I know.” As she steps forward, she holds out a vase with a few flowers. “That’s not why I’m here.”

A cool breeze rustles through the graveyard. Stiles pulls Theo’s hoodie tighter around him, watching as Kira puts the vase down and brushes leaves away from the tombstone.

Tracy Stewart.

Stiles stomach churns, and he turns away. Maybe Lydia was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. But he couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t apologize for what he did to her, couldn’t explain why he did it — although it wouldn’t be an excuse. I succumbed to my anger. I was jealous of you. Peter got into my head. Nothing he could say or do would ever be enough. There’s no way to make it up to her. He killed her because he wanted to, and the only person who truly seems to blame him for it is Noshiko. Everyone else seems to excuse it with ‘losing control’ because he’s new to this. It’s normal. Losing control happens to every newly turned supernatural creature.

All he has to do is learn to move on.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Why are you here?” he asks as Kira gets to her feet again.

Smiling softly, she hooks her arms around his. “It’s my fault.”

“You didn’t kill her.”

“I might as well have.” Kira looks at her feet and pulls her shoulders up. “Brett was worried about what state we’d find you in, so I pushed for her to go in with Theo. He didn’t want to bring her.”

Stiles raises his brows. “He didn’t?” The very reason he lost control in the first place, the very reason he nearly killed Theo; it wasn’t even Theo’s fault. Peter would’ve known that. Of course, he lied. Stiles expected and still fell for it.

“No.” Kira shakes her head. “I insisted because of mom. Brett didn’t think it would be a good idea… and he was right. It’s my fault.” She covers her face with her hands, crying quietly.

Stiles wraps her into his arms. “It’s not your fault.” He doesn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t have known, after all. Nobody could’ve expected how far Stiles was actually gone. Still, it certainly explains why they were taking all the precautions, why they made sure no-one but his friends would be there to cross Stiles’ path.

“I should’ve known better,” she mutters against his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him, fingers curling into the fabric of Theo’s hoodie. “I know what can happen when the fox takes control.” She tightens her grip on him.

Stiles rubs her back. Dread pools in his stomach. Of course, she knows. She’s been in his situation before. Her fox made her kill someone as well. Nobody blamed her for killing that chimera — especially not Stiles. He’s had countless discussions with his dad while being torn between defending his friend and defending his dad for doing his job.

And during all of that, Kira was eaten up by guilt.

She’s been where he is right now.

Stiles pulls back and cups her face. “We’ll make it up to them.” His father’s words echo deep in his soul.

“How?” Kira scrunches her brows together, wiping another set of tears away.

“By protecting this town.” Stiles sets his jaw. That’s his job. It’s the one thing the nemeton entrusted him with, and he’s not going to disappoint it again — he’s going to make sure that every single threat setting foot into Beacon Hills will never get out alive.

Kira blinks a couple of tears away and narrows her eyes then nods once.

They both took an innocent life, the only way to feel better about that in any way, is to make sure something like that won’t happen again — neither by their hands nor by anyone else’s. “First things first…”

“The Dread Doctors.” Kira steps away and wipes the last traces of her tears away with her sleeve. 

Stiles nods. Exactly. It’s time to rid the world of them, preferably before they manage to find a suitable host for their beast. Although the mural shows that the beast might be able to be stopped by Jordan, Stiles would prefer if they could prevent that from ever happening. There is no way to tell what the collateral damage may be. In a fight like this, too many people could end up in the crossfire.

And if even Theo is afraid of it, that’s saying something.

“Want to grab a bite to eat?”

Kira draws her brows together. “School’s starting soon.”

“My treat.” Stiles pulls a shoulder up for a half-shrug.

For a moment, she’s watching Stiles quietly but the smile tugging on her lips is answer enough. 

———

“No, no. You need to-“ Kira places her hands on his shoulders, digging her fingers in as if to prove a point. “You’re way too tense.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stiles mutters, lowering his hands and pulling his shoulders up. “Last time I did this, I attacked Theo.” Using his new powers isn’t exactly connected to great memories or positive emotions. He understands that’s exactly what is hindering him. Just because he knows that, however, doesn’t mean he can change it. Thinking about using his magic makes him feel powerful which in turn scares the living hell out of him. It doesn’t only bring back the memories of Eichen House, but also what happened while he was possessed.

Kira sits down on her chair and reaches for the electric candle in the middle of the dining table. Currently that is their only light source in Theo’s living room. She taps her nail against the glass and pulls her hand away. A thin line of electricity follows the movement of her finger before settling in the palm of her hand. There, it twists into an incomplete circle and chases itself. Kira closes her fist around it. When she opens her hand again, it’s gone.

“You are the one in control,” she reminds him and crosses her arms on the table. “The darkness can’t do anything you don’t want it to do.”

Right.

He is in control.

Stiles is completely in control of everything the darkness does.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles reaches into the darkness again. He closes his eyes, trying to get a feel for the shadows again. Kira made it look so easy. Fuck, he had made it look so easy. The darkness bent to his will. He barely had to do anything, now, he’s starting from zero once more.

“Don’t make it too complicated,” Kira says, drawing another string of electricity from the candle, causing it to flicker.

Stiles nods. Not too complicated. Sure. He can do that. A string then, nothing more, nothing less. Just enough to make the darkness move with him.

But it doesn’t move.

It refuses to cooperate.

Kira grabs his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Don’t focus on a shape. I want you to hold it in your hand and keep it there.”

That doesn’t sound too complicated. It doesn’t sound dangerous. It sounds like something he should be able to do. Stiles closes his eyes again, focusing on Kira’s fingers and tries to imagine that the darkness is doing the same — holding his hand, squeezing his fingers. Maybe it’s easier this way, giving some weight to it, pretending it’s something real, something he can touch.

There is something moving, brushing past the palm of his hand. He grabs it and pulls his hand back into the light.

The front door slams open, banging against the wall and cutting through the silence of the house. Stiles startles, losing his grip on the darkness in the palm of his hand. It vanishes into thin air.

He lets out a breath.

Kira frowns and turns towards the hallway.

“What is your fucking problem?” Brett waltzes into the room and flicks on the lights.

Stiles winces. “You want a list?”

“I want you to answer your fucking phone, Stiles.” Brett throws his backpack on the couch and crosses his arms, glaring at him.

Isaac sets his own bag down, glancing around the room.

“You know where I am at all times,” Stiles reminds him. Not only Brett but Jordan and Theo as well.

Brett massages the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

“You can feel-“

“Distress,” Brett interrupts him icily, “is kind of your baseline. It’s hard to tell-“ he cuts himself off as he grabs Stiles’ phone and tosses it sat him. “Just answer your fucking phone.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Do not,” Brett explodes, and Isaac grabs his friend’s jacket, stopping him from advancing on Stiles. “You were gone for two and a half weeks. Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.” His eyes narrow, yellow burning underneath his lashes as he glares at him.

Isaac presses a hand to his chest. “Relax.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Brett shoves him and turns away. Growling low in his throat, he rips the curtains open and steps out into the backyard. Anger vibrates through their connection, becoming increasingly more distracting by the second.

Stiles rubs his chest and stares at his phone. Six missed calls, thrice as many text messages from Theo and the others. His father doesn’t seem to know about his lack of communication at the moment, or he would’ve been right there with them.

“Lydia told us Kira didn’t show up at school, and she said it’s not like you to stay away without a word.” Isaac pulls out a chair and sits down opposite Kira. “It really freaked us out when neither of you answered the phone.” He offers them a small smile and shrugs half-heartedly.

Kira fidgets with the flashlight, looking as guilty as they come. “We were training…”

“I get that,” Isaac says softly. “Just keep an eye on your phones next time.”

They both nod, knowing there isn’t really much else to say. It’s a fair request, especially after Stiles has been kidnapped not too long ago. If he’s being entirely honest, Theo not being here before Brett and Isaac is more than a little surprising. Beacon Hills High is a twenty minute drive from here, Devenford Prep meanwhile is twice as far away.

Stiles glances out the open French door. Although he can’t say he knows Brett too well, his leaving the situation instead of dishing out passive-aggressive remarks seems odd. He doubts Brett would ever let go of a chance like that. Sighing, he gets to his feet and walks outside, blinking against the bright autumnal sun. It’s his fault Lydia freaked everyone out, after all, so it’s only fair if he catches the brunt of everyone’s frustration.

Sitting on a chair by the pool, Brett stares into the water. “Theo should be here in around ten minutes. Fifteen if he drives responsibly.”

Stiles snorts. “Sounds like you don’t know Theo very well.”

“Trust me,” Brett says in a low voice, “I got to know your boyfriend very well in those seventeen days you were gone.” He looks up at him, studying Stiles for a few seconds before looking back at the water. “I’d wager he’s here in seven minutes.”

Stiles sits down on a chair next to him. “Twenty bucks, he’ll be here in five.” He holds out his hand.

Brett shakes it with a chuckle then falls back against the chair and closes his eyes. He’d almost look peaceful if not for the tight line he’s keeping his shoulders in or the way he clenches his jaw. Something else is clearly bothering him.

Neither of them checks their phone for the time.

Glancing back at the water, Stiles shifts into a cross-legged position on the desk chair. “So,” he clears his throat, not quite sure how to broach the subject of whatever is going on in Brett’s head, “how’d you get here so fast?”

“Isaac.” Brett sits back up, propping his left leg on the chair and crosses his arms over his knee. “He wasn’t doing well. I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought him here.”

“Probably a good idea.” Despite being fully aware of co-dependency being unhealthy, for now, it’s what they both have to deal with. Convincing Kira to skip school wasn’t entirely selfless. Stiles didn’t want to be alone either. For nearly two weeks, Isaac was his rock. The only reason they’re both getting any sleep was because Isaac camping on his bedroom floor.

Brett tugs on a loose string of fabric. “He didn’t sleep at all tonight,” his voice is so quiet, Stiles nearly didn’t hear him talk, “and I don’t know what to do.” Probably not separating them already. That would fucking help.

But Stiles keeps his mouth shut. He knows better.

“I can’t help him.”

Shit. Stiles isn’t sure he’s ready for a conversation of this magnitude when it comes to Brett Talbot of all people. “Brett...”

“You know, he told me he’d go looking for you,” he continues, almost as if he hadn’t heard Stiles talk at all. His eyes are locked on the string now tightly curled around finger. “I knew he thought the Dread Doctors could have taken you to the tunnels. I shouldn’t have dismissed it.” He tugs on the string, and his skin turns white. “I should’ve gone with him, but I guess I underestimated his stupidity.” The string snaps and Brett studies it for a moment, eyes narrowed as if he could put all the blame on that thin piece of bright white fabric.

Stiles shakes his head. “Isaac isn’t good with sitting around and waiting,” he tells Brett with a small smile, remembering how Derek told him Isaac got in his face despite being his alpha. “Not even Satomi could have stopped him, trust me.” 

“That’s not exactly reassuring.” Brett drops the string on the chair next to his foot. “But it explains why you two are friends.”

“Hilarious.” Stiles resists the urge to flip him off and shoots him a look instead, but his annoyance vanishes when Brett still looks worried and guilty. It’s not your fault won’t cut it. The words don’t do anything for him, so he doubts they’d change Brett’s mind. Stiles will feel guilty about hurting Theo until the end of days. The feelings will get less intense over time, but they’ll never leave – not completely. “He’s going to be okay.” That much, Stiles is sure of. Isaac is nothing if not resilient.

Brett looks at him, brows drawn together. “How can I help?”

You can’t. Not really. There are some things people have to get out of by themselves. Still, Stiles knows it’s easier when there is someone by your side. “Listen to him. Be there for him. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

“Eight minutes!” Isaac calls.

Brett curses under his breath.

Before Stiles is able to understand what’s going on, Theo bursts into the backyard. His eyes flash red, and he jabs a finger in his direction, chest heaving. “You-“

“I already yelled at him,” Brett cuts him off. The chair scrapes over the floor as he gets to his feet and places a hand on his shoulder. “Pretty sure he got the message.” His fingers dig into his shoulder, almost like a warning. After a moment of silence – or some sort of silent communication between Brett and Theo – Brett walks back inside and Theo sits down on the vacated chair.

Stiles squints at him. “No arguing?”

“I can call him back if you want me to.” Theo moves to place a hand on his leg then crosses his arms over his thighs instead. “I’m sure he’d respond unlike a certain someone.”

“It was an honest mistake,” Stiles mutters, sitting back in the chair. “It won’t happen again.” While he very much understands how they’re all worried and on edge, they also have to understand that Stiles can’t run around with his phone taped to his hand. Plus, there will be times when he can’t answer the phone simply because he’s asleep or in the shower or… or what? It’s not like he’s planning on going back to school.

Theo runs his fingers through his hair. “I get it. We know where you are, but-“

“Distress is kind of my baseline, I get it.”

For a moment, Theo doesn’t respond. His face does this weird thing when it’s hard to tell what else he is feeling. He’s worried, Stiles understands that, but there is something else bubbling just underneath the surface — something he is very much trying to hide. Cracking a smile, Theo holds out his hand. “Come here.”

Stiles sighs. “Theo-“

“Humor me.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Stiles grabs Theo’s hand, lets him intertwine their fingers. Deep down he knows that touching Theo won’t kill him, but it’s the memories, the awareness that he could. The worst part? Theo would let him. While he would fight, while he would defend himself, if it came down to him or Stiles, Theo would stop, he’d let Stiles kill him without a second thought.

Theo squeezes his hand. “Come here, please.”

Stiles’ heartbeat picks up. His whole body aches for Theo’s touch, to sit on his lap and wraps his arms around him, to breathe Theo, feel his warmth, feel at home and at peace. But his head won’t let him. “I love you,” he whispers, wishing there was a way to show Theo just how much he feels for him because words don’t seem like enough especially not right now.

Although Theo tries his hardest to keep his smile, the light in his eyes dims.

And it’s killing Stiles.

“Hey Raeken!” Brett pokes his head out of the door. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Sighing, Theo gets to his feet. “Sure,” he mutters, not particularly enthusiastic. Before leaving, he kisses Stiles briefly. “I love you too.” Soft words painted again his lips.

Stiles squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Theo kisses his forehead then strolls off. The words feel empty. He doesn’t get it. Not really. But not because he isn't trying to see things from Stiles’ perspective.

Stiles gets to his feet and crouches down next to the pool. Guilt burns in his stomach. No matter how much he’s telling Theo he loves him, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Not right now. Not with that fear gripping him, with his shadow haunting him wherever he goes. All he wants is Theo to know that he wants it all, for the rest of their lives – that he wants the lazy mornings in bed, that he wants to fight over which movies to watch and what to eat for dinner, he wants to slap Theo’s hands away when he’s trying to eat before Stiles is done cooking, to run out of the house, Theo after him, yelling and shouting at 2am because they’re a mess and they’re in love, and they can’t live without each other.

He wants their imperfection.

He wants everything Theo is willing to give him. He wants to be selfish, to ask Theo to give him his heart when Stiles is too afraid to touch him.

Swallowing, Stiles hovers his hand over the water and watches as nothing happens.

Someone crouches on his left, another one to his right. They don’t say anything. They don’t touch him, merely joining him in watching the water have its own mind.

“I feel weak,” Stiles whispers, lowering his hand until he nearly touches the water. Before Eichen, nature listened to him. His power shrank now that he’s become a nogitsune. He’s lost part of his magic, and he lost the ability to touch the person he loves. Closing his eyes, Stiles sits back and puts his head in his hands.

“You’re not weak,” Kira tells him. “You’re adjusting. It takes some time.” Time, they don’t have with the Dread Doctors still roaming around.

“We all need adjusting.” Isaac sits back down and bends his legs, crossing his arms over his knees. “And that’s because Kira and I were thinking…” he trails off, glances at her over Stiles’ head, grimacing at his own transition. “How about a barbecue?”

Stiles cocks a brow. “Barbecue?”

“Or a pool party?” Kira pulls her shoulders up with a smile.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m in the mood for people.” Stiles mirrors Isaac’s pose, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Isaac bumps his shoulder. “Me neither, but it’s good for us… and the chimera pack too.”

Stiles lets out a long breath and pulls his legs to his chest. “Yeah,” he drawls, “I’m sure they can’t wait to see me again.”

“They're a little freaked,” Isaac admits, “but they know it’s not- “

“Don’t.” Stiles gets to his feet so fast he nearly loses his balance. “Just-“ he squeezes his eyes shut. If someone else tells him ‘it wasn’t you’, he’s really going to lose his mind. “I’m going for a run.” He needs to clear his head. He needs to be alone for a little while. He’s spent the last week cooped up in his bedroom, alone or with Isaac most of the time. It wasn’t any different while he was at Eichen. But Isaac is probably right. Being with friends, with the pack, it helps.

Regardless, it’s a lot.

Kira gets to her feet. “Stiles-“

But Isaac interrupts her. “Don’t go far.”

———

“You’re not hard to find.”

“I’m not trying to hide.” Stiles props himself up on his elbows, eyeing Theo with a raised brow. “I just wanted to go for a walk.”

Theo hums and sits down next to him. “Comfortable,” he remarks, patting the side of the nemeton, a small smirk curling around the corners of his mouth.

Stiles shrugs. “I wouldn’t recommend sleeping on it.” But it’s a good place to think, to ground himself. Even if the nemeton isn’t here any longer, its roots are, and there is something weirdly reassuring about it.

Theo leans back onto his elbows. “Isaac said the get-together didn’t resonate with you.”

“I’m not exactly a people person at the moment.” Stiles pulls his shoulders up and avoids Theo’s gaze. “Besides, I doubt your pack wants to see me.” They made that pretty obvious by not staying the night when Stiles was unceremoniously dropped off here at Theo’s place yesterday. He can’t really blame them.

“That’s not true.” Hayden’s voice comes out of nowhere, but a moment later, she, Josh, and Corey appear in front of them. Hayden is the only one looking at him. “We want to see you, it’s just…” she trails off, looking at the other two for help.

Josh clears his throat. “We’re all a bit freaked out.”

Hayden elbows him.

“What?” he shoots back. “It’s true.”

Corey stares at his feet.

“We don’t blame you.” Hayden hurries on, rolling her eyes at Josh. “We understand that you lost control.”

“I nearly killed you when I did.” Josh scratches the back of his head, pointedly looking anywhere that isn’t Stiles or Theo. “You never blamed me for that.”

Probably because he didn’t exactly have the time to process anything since Theo ripped his throat out and then threw Donovan’s death in his face. A lot was happening all at once. Still, Stiles gets the sentiment.

Squeezing his hands together, Corey looks up at him. “We know you’d never hurt us otherwise.”

“I wanted to hurt Tracy,” Stiles admits because that’s the issue. It’s not that he was completely out of his mind and jumped the first person he saw. His attack was deliberate. He wanted to kill her, and he did.

Corey straightens his posture. “You didn’t want to hurt me. You got me out.”

Stiles stares at him. He remembers all of that. He even remembers feeling bad about Corey getting caught in the crossfire. He never meant for him to get hurt.

“Isaac told us you were fine until they almost killed him,” Theo says, sitting up again. “Failing to protect him pushed you past your breaking point, that’s why you lost control.” Not because you became a nogitsune. Although Theo doesn’t say the words, they seem to echo all around him, whispered by the leaves rustling in the wind.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles closes his eyes. Being a monster is not his nature. He’s no more of a killer than he was before he accepted the fox fully. Although he will have to deal with the guilt of what he’s done for longer — that’s just not something he’s going to be able to shake off soon — it’s a lot easier to accept that he became a monster to protect Isaac. He’ll learn how to stay in control. Theo will figure out how to pull him back.

It’s going to be okay.

“Well,” Josh clears his throat, “after that though…” he trails off and mimics a bomb exploding.

Hayden smacks the back of his head.

“Hey, I’m just saying!”

“You’re so not helping,” Corey mutters.

“No.” Stiles gets to his feet, brushing dust and dirt off his clothes. The world feels a little brighter now, but he can’t have people tiptoe around him anymore — and he doesn’t need them to pretend what he did is in anyway excusable. “He’s honest. I don’t need you guys to blow smoke up my ass.” He turns to look at Theo and crosses his arms in front of his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Especially you. I need you to be straight with me, okay?”

Smirking, Theo slips off the nemeton. “Well…”

“Don’t even think about saying it,” Stiles jabs a finger in his direction.  With all his hard exterior, it’s sometimes very easy to forget that Theo isn’t as grown up he seems at first glance.

Theo pushes his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his smirk slowly softening. It’s an expression Stiles rarely gets to see when someone else is around. “I promise.”

———

“Josh, we really don’t need any more batteries.” Stiles is ready to put this kid on a leash. This is the third time he’s come back with a pack of batteries hidden between snacks. “He’s worse than a toddler,” he mutters as he watches the chimera walk away with a scowl, tossing the batteries in the next best shelf. Stiles’ fingers itch to take them back where they belong, but Theo’s quiet cackling distracts him.

Theo glances up at him, arms crossed over the handle of the cart. “You sound like you’ve met a lot of toddlers.”

“I’ve been in charge of grocery shopping since I was ten,” Stiles reminds him, contemplating his list with a slight frown. Hopefully his calculations are right. He’s never really bought groceries for more than two people, and with supernatural creatures, he can’t just double everything up. “So yes,” he continues, glancing up to spot the cooling shelves with cheese a bit farther down the aisle, “I did meet a lot of toddlers.”

Theo watches as Hayden drops two packages of flour in the cart before walking off again, checking her own list. Since they had to buy stuff for the party anyway, Stiles decided that the Raeken household is in desperate need of a restock. Josh and Corey are in charge of the snacks and food for tonight’s barbecue while Hayden and Stiles deal with the regular grocery shopping for their respective households. Theo is mostly here for moral support — and to pay for most of it.

They stop at the cheese section.

“I think this is the first time I've gone grocery shopping like this.” Theo straightens, eyes darting from one choice to the next before he grabs a package of cream cheese and holds it out to Stiles questioningly.

Stiles takes it and exchanges it for a better deal. They might not have any money issues — especially now that Peter paid the bills for Eichen as well as his mother’s hospital bills — but they’re not exactly ‘waste their money on Philadelphia cream cheese’ rich. “Did your parents or fake parents never take you with them?” He thought that trudging along while their parents buy groceries was the experience of every child.

“My parents had staff who did all of this.” Theo gestures around briefly, scrunching up his face as he continues to stare at the selection. “And with my fake parents, I was usually only there to sleep. I was busy being…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely.

Still, Stiles knows what he means. Theo was busy dealing with whatever issues arose regarding the Dread Doctors’ experiments. With how effectively Theo dismantled their pack in hardly a month, it’s obvious that he’s done something like that before.

They both had to grow up very fast yet in vastly different ways. Stiles had to become the caregiver in the household until his dad got his feet back under him, and even after that, some of the chores became his to deal with. Theo had been turned into a weapon, the responsibility of his own survival looming above him every single second with not one person to lean on.

He reaches out and brushes his hand over Theo’s cheek. His heart races when Theo turns his head just enough to kiss the palm of his hand before going back to studying the cheese assortment, hands firmly pushed in the pockets of his jeans.

Stiles has an idea what Brett and Theo talked about before he left for his run. Looks like his own advice has been given to Theo as well. It’s almost a little disconcerting knowing that Theo actually listened to Brett instead of ripping his head off for suggesting to give Stiles space.

“You look lost.” Stiles quirks a brow, studying his boyfriend’s face.

Grinning, Theo looks back at him. “The only thing I’ve ever been sure of is you, babe.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles shoves Theo, laughing softly. “You’re so fucking corny.”

Theo shrugs, amusement bright in his eyes. “But it made you laugh.”

For a moment, Stiles pauses as he stares at Theo, the world strangely off-center, his heart jumping in his chest. He wants to kiss him, desperately, and for the first time since Eichen, he’s not scared of the desire. However, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop if he kissed Theo right now.

“I love you too,” Stiles says instead.

Unsurprisingly, Theo looks very pleased with himself.

They’re going to be okay. Stiles has no clue how he knows, but he does. Everything is going to be fine, and who knew all it took is Theo standing in front of rows and rows of cheese for him to realize that.

Well, maybe it’s the normalcy of all of it.

This is what his father wanted, right? A normal life for him. Stiles can still have it, at least to some degree. All the supernatural disaster can’t take moments like these away from him. They will stay with him, and they’re all worth it.

“Josh, put the batteries away,” Theo calls without turning away from studying a pack of cheddar cheese.

Josh curses under his breath and retreats.

Shaking his head, Stiles walks down the cooling section towards the yogurts. “This is your fault, you know?” he informs Theo, glancing at him, and reaches for the Greek yogurt his father has been obsessed with for as long as Stiles can remember. “You got him hooked on batteries.”

“Car batteries,” Theo corrects, putting the cheddar in the cart. “I didn’t tell him to suck on a triple-A battery.”

“Well,” Stiles says, “you still-“ the floor is ripped out from under him, and his world goes dark for all but a second. The yogurts slip through his fingers and crash to the hard tiles, exploding everywhere. Stiles blinks, trying his hardest to regain his balance, but Theo is by his side at a moment’s notice, arms wrapped tightly around him. He sucks in breath and grips Theo’s arm so hard his knuckles turn white as his heart keeps pounding in his chest in tune with the ley lines screaming in his head.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Josh.

Hayden.

Corey.

Three chimeras. Right here with him.

“Stiles.” Theo’s voice keeps him grounded as his consciousness struggles to stay inside the store, present in the moment.

He squeezes his eyes shut. The ley lines flash in his mind, the nemeton tries to drag him under.

Fix it.

Fix it.

“Stiles!” Theo’s voice is louder now, more urgent.

Stiles opens his eyes again, staring at his boyfriend’s face.

Josh.

Hayden.

Corey.

Three. It’s supposed to be three chimeras.

“They did it,” Stiles whispers. The ley lines settle. The commotion stops.

They’re too late.

“Did what?” Theo asks, eyes widening slightly as he stares at Stiles.