#alpha pack

Isaac woke Stiles just before class was due to end. They quietly gathered their bags, neither commenting on the conversation they had shared.

“Has there been any luck with looking for Boyd and Erica?” Stiles asked softly. He’d been hesitant to ask, given the divide between him and the non-Peter werewolves.

“Kind of?” Isaac replied hesitantly. Derek had made it clear that Stiles was to be kept out of things but he could see how concerned the other boy was. “I saw… something. But I can’t remember what. Derek said alphas can manipulate memories. It’s just… really frustrating knowing that I might have found them.”

They exited the library into the largely empty hall. No doubt the teachers were intending to impress the importance of their particular syllabus for the year right up until the bell rang.

“Are you going to be okay for the rest of the day?” Isaac asked. “I know Scott’s in some of your classes.”

“I don’t have anything with him until the afternoon, but it’s fine… I can’t avoid him forever. And he can’t do much in class, it’s between classes that are an issue. But, thank you. For asking. And for helping.”

“No problem. I… I feel like I have a lot to make up for.”

The pair split to head to their individual classes. Stiles got to his Spanish class as the previous class was leaving and he made his way to a seat near the window. He was dimly aware of the class filling but didn’t really pay attention until someone sat beside him. He looked up and his entire body locked up when he saw one of the younger alpha wolves sitting beside him. He’d watched enough of the footage from the cameras he’d placed to know that there were two teenagers, identical twins.

“Hi, I’m Ethan,” the alpha said with a smile. Despite his friendly tone, there was something in his eyes that unsettled Stiles. A sort of predatory assessing quality, sizing up the human. 

“Stiles.”

Ethan’s smile turned into a smirk that told him he already knew exactly who he was. 

"That was quite the performance this morning," Ethan said, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard.

"Glad you found it entertaining," Stiles muttered.

"Oh we did. Gave us a lot to think about too."

"I'm really not interested. Also, aren't you a little old to be a junior?"

"Never too old to learn Stiles. And today has already been so educational. You see, we were under the impression that you and McCall ran together but it certainly didn't seem like that. What's the matter? Couldn't keep up?"

Stiles ignored him, making a mental note to bring some kind of weapon with him for future classes. Ethan didn't seem to care about his silence and continued, his smirk never faltering.

"But if you're not with McCall, makes us wonder exactly where you fit in." Ethan leaned back in his chair. "Hale's trying so hard to find his missing betas. Would he try as hard to find you if you were to... disappear?"

That hit a nerve because Stiles knew the answer. None of the wolves would look for him if he went missing. Well, except Peter. But even then, he knew self preservation would overshadow anything else. He wasn't worth the inherent risk of going against a pack of alphas.

"Is that a threat?" Stiles asked through gritted teeth.

"Just an observation."

"Maybe you should keep your observations to yourself."

"Or what?"

"Or i'll find a way to shut you up."

"You? The human? You can't be serious."

"Ask Peter Hale how serious I am about dealing with... problems," Stiles told him coldly. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freakin' a--"

"Mr Stilinski, Mr Steiner, do you have something you want to share with the class?"

"Sorry Mrs Fletcher. Ethan just had some questions about the school, being new and everything."

"Hmm, well that can wait until after class. Understood?"

Both of them made mumbled noises of understanding. Stiles returned his focus to his work, smiling slightly to himself at the slightly unnerved looks the alpha was now shooting at him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

History was next, a class he apparently shared with the other twin, Aiden. However, he seemed more focused on Lydia than Stiles which was a relief.

After that was lunch and he took his food to a small hidden corner tucked beneath one of the staircases. If a wolf was determined to find him, he couldn't do much to prevent them from smelling him out but at the very least it gave him some peace. Still, he didn't linger when the start of next period drew near. He had chemistry with Harris right after lunch and he didn’t want to give the teacher any excuse to give him detention. 

He made his way slowly to Harris' class and took a seat, placing his bag on the chair next to him in the hope it might dissuade Scott from sitting with him. He scoffed quietly. Allison was in their class this year and he was pretty sure her presence would override Scott’s desire to yell at him. 

The classroom door opened and Mr Harris came in. He paused midstep and ran cold eyes over Stiles. Well, it looked like the brief moment of compassion he’d witnessed in the aftermath of his panic attack had been a fluke. 

"Mr Stilinski. You're early"

"What can I say? I have a passion for learning," he mumbled.

"I assume, since you're so passionate, you did the summer reading?"

"Yes. And I wrote some practice essays."

Mr Harris straightened up a little.

"Really. Do you have them with you?"

Stiles nodded and retrieved his essays from his bag. He'd done some for a few different classes, hoping that maybe he could use them for something at a later date. It was always good to have a back up in case circumstances stopped him from getting work done (like feral alphas or lizard people for example) and if he didn't need them, at the very least the work kept his brain from imploding from cramming it full of magic and monsters. He hadn't expected Harris to actually be interested though.

"I'll have a look through and give you some notes in a few days. Nice to see you applying yourself, Stilinski. Maybe you're not completely hopeless after all"

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head"

The bell rang to signal the end of lunch and the cacophony of students heading to their classes quickly filled the space. At times like this, Stiles couldn't imagine how bad it had to be for the 'wolves. It gave him a headache, they had to be going out of their minds.

As he predicted, Scott barely glanced at him on his way to a seat. Allison was beside him, Isaac following behind the pair. Isaac paused and caught Stiles' eye, giving a sad smile. Lydia entered a few moments later and approached Stiles' desk, raising an eyebrow and giving a pointed look at his bag until he moved it. She sat down and began to unpack her bag as Mr Harris waited for the class to settle down.

"I didn't see you at lunch today…” Lydia said cautiously.

"In fairness Lydia, we've been in school together for years and you didn't see me for most of that time."

Mr Harris began the class, drawing attention towards him. Lydia glanced over at the board before flicking her gaze back to Stiles.

"Where were you?" she hissed.

"I was there. I just wasn't at your table."

"You mean you weren't with Scott. I saw you two arguing this morning."

"So? Doesn't matter."

"Stiles…"

"I told him some things he didn't want to listen to."

"So now you're what? Punishing him for being concerned?"

"Concerned?"

"Of course. You're hanging around with a murderous psychopath!"

"And you're dating one."

"That's different. Jackson didn't have control of himself."

"Well, neither did Peter. And I'm not punishing Scott. That would require him to notice when I'm absent. I'm just tired of being expected to let people who don't give a shit about me dictate my life."

"Of course he cares about you, you're his best friend."

"No, he cares only when it's about something that he disagrees with. If he actually cared, he would have listened when I tried to tell..." Stiles cut off.

"What did you tell him?"

"Doesn't matter"

"Was it about how you got hurt? I remember how you looked that night, Stiles. I know I didn't say anything because I was… distracted… but I did notice. What did you say?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Because I doubt you'll be anymore receptive than he was."

"I think I'm capable of making my own mind up"

"Drop it Lydia. Its not your fight."

"If it's about that monster who mauled me, I think I'm entitled to have an opinion."

"And you can keep it to yourself. Besides, it's about more than just Peter."

"Is it… a wolf thing?" Stiles' silence spoke volumes. "You know that's not really your fight either"

"And yet, knowing that does not undo my injuries…"

"Stiles…"

"Drop it. I mean it Lydia." Beneath the desk, his fingers were digging into the meat of his thigh. The pain helped a little, grounding him in reality as he fought down the memories threatening to overwhelm him. He would not have a breakdown in class. He refused. 

Mr Harris looked over at their table as Lydia opened her mouth to respond.

“Miss Martin, if you’re quite finished?” he snapped. A murmur went through the class. While Mr Harris was strict with everyone, him singling out Lydia over Stiles unheard of. 

Lydia didn’t respond, just sat there glaring at her textbook. Stiles gave Mr Harris a very small smile of gratitude, who responded with a slight nod. 

Stiles managed to get through the rest of the class without incident. Luckily they weren’t doing anything that required partner work and anytime Lydia looked like she was about to speak, Mr Harris would give a pointed cough in her direction. When class finished, Stiles took his time packing up before heading to Econ. He found a seat at the back and kept his head down, relieved that Lydia wasn’t in the same class.

It was during Econ that things took a turn for the worse. Stiles was at the front of the class helping Finstock demonstrate something with a cup and a coin when the door opened. He barely noticed at first, focused on his task.

“Stilinski,” Finstock said, jerking him to attention. The coach inclined his head to the door where his dad was standing along with another officer, both looking severe.

“Stiles. I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Confused and concerned, Stiles followed him out of the classroom. His mind was racing through all the possibilities. Were they in danger? Had someone his dad arrested made threats? That had happened before when he was younger and he still remembered being taken out of class, driven to a safehouse and stuck inside for a week before the person was caught.

“What’s going on…?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Stiles… you went to Heather’s party right?”

A cold dread began to creep up his spine at the question.

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me when you last saw Heather that night?”

“Umm… i left pretty early.”

“How early?”

“Kind of right after i got there.” His dad gave him an encouraging look. “I got to the party around 8? Said hi to Heather. She asked me to help her fetch something from the basement. We went down there and she kissed me… and i left.”

“Why?”

“I had a panic attack,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I basically ran out. I sat in my car until i calmed down a bit and then drove home. I sent her a text when i got back apologising, but i didn’t hear anything from her after that… is she okay?”

His dad’s face scrunched into a conflicted grimace, one that Stiles recognised as his ‘how do i share bad news’ face.

“We found Heather’s body this morning. It looks like she was murdered.”

“Oh god,” Stiles choked out. The hallway started to spin around him so he closed his eyes and forced in a deep breath. “Did she… was it like the other one?”

“I thought you said you didn’t look at my file?”

“I saw a glimpse when i was picking it up… i just… i just need to know she didn’t suffer.”

He opened his eyes and met his dad’s gaze, pleading silently.

“No. The medical examiner says the blow to her head probably knocked her unconscious, she likely wouldn’t have been aware of what was happening.”

“Good… that’s… i’m sorry, i have to go.”

He rushed past his dad, bolting for the nearest bathroom. He locked himself away in one of the cubicles, resting his head in his hands. Heather had been his friend for years and now she was gone. He couldn’t help wondering if she’d still be alive if he’d stayed, if whatever had caused her to leave the party had been his fault. He felt tears burn at the corner of his eyes.

His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. With blurred vision and shaking hands he checked the screen, seeing Peter’s name displayed. Wiping away the stray tears, he answered it.

“Hello…?”

“Stiles, are you okay? I had a… i felt like something was wrong.”

“I got some bad news. Someone i knew… cared about… she’s dead. And i was one of the last people to see her.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry,” 

From anyone else, the words would have felt like empty platitudes but he knew Peter understood how he felt better than anyone else would.

“She died the same way as the other person… the one i texted you about...”

“So it likely is sacrificial then. Probably a witch. That’s troubling. We need to work out what connects the two but it’s okay if you want to stay out of it until you’ve had some time to grieve.”

“No i… i want to keep busy. And i want to figure this out, stop them. For Heather.”

“If you’re sure. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, classes are almost over. And my dad's here, he'll want me to go to the station to give a statement. I’ll be okay. Thanks Peter. Talking to you helps.”

“I’m here if you need me, remember. Anytime.”

Peter hung up and Stiles took a few deep breaths, centering himself, before leaving the bathroom. His dad was waiting for him, his expression heavy with sorrow. While it had been Claudia and Heather's mom that had been the close friends, the ones who had introduced the two kids and who oversaw most of their playdates when they were younger, the Sheriff had still spent time with Heather as well. Stiles knew that it was a part of the job his dad hated, seeing people he knew or cared for as victims.

The sheriff escorted Stiles to the cruiser and started the drive to the station. Neither of them spoke. Stiles' head was a mess of thoughts and feelings that were impossible to keep straight.

He forced down the feelings and focused on what Peter had said to him. Sacrificial. They were likely ritualistic killings. What did he know about human sacrifice? Well, admittedly not that much. He'd once fell down a research rabbit hole on religious practices of ancient cultures but that had primarily talked about animal offerings. Witchcraft and human sacrifice was something he only knew about vaguely from horror movies, where some hapless virgin was trussed up on an altar in her nightgown.

Wait.

No.

Virgin.