Chapter Text
Stiles pushes his laptop away and flops down on his back. He rubs his eyes with his fingertips and groans. It's the last night of winter break, and Stiles has successfully worn himself down. He wonders how he’s going to pass through tomorrow if this is how he feels now. Stiles thinks about all the talking and gossip about soulmates he'll have to face again and… Ugh. A shudder of disgust rushes through him.
Stiles knows it’s partly his fault for having such a foul mood. He already started his day off by waking up from another nightmare about his late mother. Then, for some dumb reason, he threw himself in a research spiral about soulmates gone wrong. It wasn't the first time, but it's like whenever he looks again, the number of cases goes higher, and the more horrifying the stories become.
In today's round, he found two new, gruesome stories that happened last month. The first one was about a woman who burned her soulmate's wife and two kids alive when he refused to leave his family for her. The oldest child was seven years old, and his sister was only two, for heaven’s sake. The second story was about a man who abducted, tortured, and raped his soulmate after she rejected him. And don't get him to start talking about the escalating cases of disastrous break ups and divorces. Families had been shattered because of a simple mark on the skin. It's a complete clusterfuck.
The actual dilemma lies in the way society keeps a blind eye on those cases. Pretending they don't exist and only focusing on the bright side.
Soulmates have always been sacred, probably since they have always been a unique, mysterious phenomenon, and not everyone is lucky to find their own.
Plus, the majority of the bounded soulmates tents to paint this happy, all sunshine and rainbows picture about their lives after finding their fated other half. How they fit together so perfectly.
Romance novels, movies, songs, and all the media play a major role in keeping that image printed inside people’s minds. Especially when the main target is the young audience. So no wonder that soulmates and soul-marks are all what most teenagers think about these days.
But not Stiles…
Stiles knows better than to believe the idea of something so perfect exists in real life, he’s not that naïve, never was. Stiles did his research on the rare occasions he let himself think about the subject. Because he witnessed firsthand his father’s grief after his mom’s death. He saw how the man, Stiles once believed to be invincible, had broken down and shattered after he lost his other half. How he couldn’t live for another day without drowning himself in alcohol.
Stiles does remember how he had to grow up too fast that first year after she passed away. He had to take over most house chores, considering his dad was too drunk and broken to do anything else.
It did get better eventually, but not before Stiles learned how to cook, how to do landry, how to shop for groceries. Otherwise, they were going to starve and live in filth. While his dad was stuck in his own head more times than not, that stuff like food and cleaning had lost their meaning to him.
Stiles has Melissa McCall to thank for his dad finally snapping out of his grief and mourning spiral. For getting him to start looking out for himself and his only son again.
Stiles has never told anyone how terrified he was, how he couldn’t sleep for countless nights, afraid he would wake up one day to find his only remaining parent dead. He thinks Melissa had seen through him, though, and she made sure his dad knows too. All Stiles knows is he’s forever grateful for her, for saving his last parent from wasting himself away.
So everyone can understand why Stiles hates the whole soulmate thing, and why he refuses to look for his.
The fact that Melissa suffered from her jerk of a husband and soulmate for years. Until the night the asshole ended up hurting Scott, their son. Enough was enough, and Mel had kicked the bastard out of the house and ordered him to never come back. It wasn't long before she divorced him. Even though Rafael McCall is a complete douchebag did not make it hurt less. She was still a complete mess by the end of it.
The divorce happened only a year and a half after his mother died. After watching the woman he considers as a second mother in pain, because of her own soulmate. And with his trauma from his mom's death and dad's grief. It has only entrenched his resentment for soulmates.
To make sure if the Universe only gave Mel a bad match, or if there are others suffering too, Stiles turned to the internet. And after countless hours of researching, his resentment has officially transformed to hatred.
Don't get him wrong, he has nothing against other people wanting soulmates. If they are happy with their relationship, all good for them. But when it comes to him, Stiles wants nothing to do with soulmates, and only hopes he'll never meet his. Usually, it's the other way around. People tend to find his explicit dislike weird. They will either try changing his mind or downright mock him and show their disapproval as if he had offended them somehow.
Stiles couldn't care less about their opinion on his personal life choices.
And no, dad, Stiles could be so much happy living his life without having one. He's pretty much fine without one, he has always been, thank you very much!
Stiles sighs and rises up from his bed. He needs to do something now. Perhaps something reckless and idiotic to keep his mind busy for a long while. So he leaves the house, gets in his jeep, and starts driving aimlessly. He's hoping he'll find something interesting to do.
His answer comes about fifteen minutes later in the form of a call on the police scanner in his jeep. Apparently, there is a dead body in the preserve, torn in half, and only one half was found. Well, looks like there is something interesting to do after all.
Now if only he could convince Scotty to come with him.
***
Stiles isn't surprised when it took little effort to drag Scott along with his plan. All he had to do is assure Scott that this little night adventure will be a short one. And he'll do fine in lacrosse tryouts tomorrow. Although, he's sure Scott saw Stiles' desperate need to do something wild, like searching for dead bodies in the middle of the night, for example.
His best friend knows him so well by this point, knows that Stiles will go anyway, with or without him. So Scott agreed to tag along, if only to make sure Stiles doesn't end up getting himself killed.
Stiles pulls over to the side of the deserted road, near the preserve. It's almost eleven p.m. Of course, the roads are empty.
Before he can get out of the vehicle, Scott grabs him by the arm and asks, “you still want to go there? We still can go back home, you know. Where we will be safe and don't have to worry about some psycho killer wandering around. Come on, man, you know this is a bad idea on so many levels!”
Stiles pats his shoulder trying to reassure his worried friend, “come on, Scotty boy! You're the one who always complains about how nothing interesting ever happens in Beacon Hills. Well, there you have it! And don't worry, I'm pretty sure the killer won't stick around, not when the police out there searching the woods. That, assuming it was a murder, it could be an animal attack after all.” He gets out before hearing more objections.
Scott hurries and follows him, “if it was an animal, you don't think it will attack us too?”
“With all the noises caused by the party search. It's probably too scared to emerge from wherever it's hiding,” Stiles says with a shrug.
“What about your dad, then? What if he caught us? Oh God, what if mom finds out?!” Scott panics.
“Scott, it will be fine I promise, so long as we stay away from the police flashlights, we won't be caught, okay?” Stiles says, grabbing Scott's shoulders to have his attention. “Trust me, buddy, okay? And where is your inhaler? You brought it with you, right? Do I need to get the one in the jeep?” Scott shakes his head and pulls his inhaler from his hoodie's pocket and takes a puff. “Ok,” Scott says, a bit shaky, “I don't know why I even bother trying to change your mind, you've already decided.” He grumbles.
Stiles grins at him, “you know me so well.” He drapes one arm around Scott's shoulders and resumes walking. “Now stop whining and come on, there's a half body waiting for us to find it.”
Scott scrunches his nose and says, “dude, I don't know if I should be more grossed out, or disturbed by that.” Making Stiles laugh.
***
They head toward the woods and take out their flashlights once the trees swallow them. Stiles doesn't have a specific direction in his mind. He's walking around between the trees, looking for anything suspicious, that would help lead him to his target. Hopefully they won't get caught by his dad, because, God, that would be awful. And he's dragging Scotty with him, who still whines about leaving now and then.
“Ok, this is not working. We have to split up to cover more areas.” Stiles says.
“WHAT? Dude, no! This is how all characters die in horror movies every time! This is the most stupid idea ever, and I can't believe it's coming from you!” Scott protests.
“That's because we're not in a horror movie. It's going to be fine, stop panicking too much, it's not healthy for your lungs. Besides, we're going to stay close to each other, so if anything happens the other could hear and help out.” Stiles says a bit annoyed with all the whining.
Okay, he knows Scott's have a point, but really, what could possibly happen?
With that thought in mind, he leaves a still reluctant Scott behind and takes a random path between the trees. He faintly hears Scott walking in a different direction.
The night is a cold one. His thin hoodie does a poor job of protecting his body from the cold breeze. He hugs one arm around his torso, hoping to get rid of the chill and wishes he put on his jacket before heading out. But he was lost in his mind, and the need to go out was suffocating him at that moment. It's too late, anyway. Regretting his poor life decisions now will change nothing.
The woods are silent, which is strange, Stiles thinks with furrowed brows. There should be sounds of the night creatures' life. Where are all the animals? Sure, they won't come out while there are humans around. But it's like they have vanished, the complete area feels like it's frozen, no sounds of life, except for the leaves being crushed under his sneakers. If Stiles’ honest with himself -which he's not,- he'll say it creeps him out.
He shakes his head and wills himself to continue his mission. Almost ten minutes passed since he and Scott had split up, and still found nothing.
A snapping noise to his far left makes his head turn so fast he almost gives himself a whiplash. Even with the help of the flashlight, he can't see anything. Suddenly, a herd of frightened deer breaks into the clearing where he is, running right into him.
Stiles lets out a frightened shout and trips over his feet in his hurry to get the fuck away before they turn him into mincemeat under their hooves. He scrambles to the nearest tree taking a shield, and curls around himself while waiting for the panic to subside.
Once the last deer disappears, Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to stand up. His legs are still a bit shaky, but he manages. “Get a grip, Stilinski,” he scolds himself, disappointed that a couple of deer had nearly given him a heart attack.
He might be fine, but the same can't be said about his flashlight. It shattered beyond repair. One of the pieces cuts his finger while he was feeling the ground with his hands, looking for the damn thing. He pats his pocket for his phone next and… not there! Great, just what he needs. What did he say to Scott? About this not a horror movie?
He regrets everything.
He takes one, two, three, four, five, six steps, and his right foot stumbles on a hidden tree root. It sends him face-first to the ground and knocks all the air out of his lungs.
Stiles groans, curses his damn luck, and wonders why is the universe out to get his ass.
He puts his palms on the ground and starts pushing himself to stand up, again .
He freezes…
In front of him, there is a pile of bushes. Underneath those bushes, there's an arm sticking out, an arm attached to a sickly pale, naked girl. No, a half girl, because she's missing her legs. And, Oh God, those are definitely intestines sticking out of her torso. Oh, look! His phone is about an inch away from her milky, unseen, dead eyes.
Stiles yelps loudly and scrambles backward, away from the half corps. Why, for heaven’s sake, did he think this was a good idea?!
He stills himself, heart pounding so fast in his chest, and reaches a trembling hand toward the phone.
Bile tries to rush up his throat, and he has to swallow several times to stop it from coming out. The last thing he needs is his puck all over a crime scene.
Okay, this is why he dragged Scotty here in the first place, right? He wanted to find the body, and he did. So no need to panic, all he needs is to call Scott and tell him the mission accomplished.
He takes more steps away. Now that he knows the body is there, he can't ignore the foul smell of blood, guts, and decay anymore. Ugh.
He starts unlocking his phone and stops abruptly when he hears it.
A deep, low, guttural voice… A growl.
Every strand of hair on Stiles' body stands upright with dread. He keeps stock still, his brain for the first time has a single thought instead of a hundred, RUN.
He only has three seconds to decide following that thought, when his eyes catch sight of two glowing red orbs hiding in the darkness between the thick trees. In a flash, a massive black shape comes pouncing on him. It sends him sprawling on the ground, wooden sticks and small rocks dig in his back harshly. Stiles screams so loud he's sure the dead can hear him, only for the roar of the thing drowns him out.
He's going to die! He's going to fucking die tonight, and his poor father will find his mangled corpse, and… Oh God, his going to- “STILES!” Stiles is vaguely aware of someone shouting his name. His mind can't process anything other than the freaking huge, gleaming fangs decorating the black mass' snarl. The blazing rubies glaring down at his very soul.
The hulk opens its wide monstrous maw -oh joy, more sharp teeth- and it goes down aiming for what Stiles is sure to be his throat.
Suddenly, the beast closes his massive jaws around a thick tree branch instead of Stiles' neck. The beast backs up to remove the branch stuck in his teeth, “STILES MOVE!!” Yells Scott again… Scott!
That's all Stiles needed to function again and gets out from underneath the thing as fast as he can with Scott's help. And they run like hell.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?!” Scott yells.
“I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! JUST KEEP RUNNING!” Answers Stiles with an equally terrified shout. So running they do. Scott keeps taking puffs of the inhaler all the time running, and all Stiles can think of is how much of a bad friend he is. He's going to get them both killed tonight because he's a whining brat who can't, for the love of God, handle a little bit of depression. He swears if they get out alive tonight, he'll be the best fucking friend to ever exist for Scott.
Although, he knows he can't, because that title belongs to Scotty boy. Scott who's tackled to the ground right this instant!
“SCOTT!” Stiles screams, utterly horrified. “NO!”
His voice is drowned out by the horrific, loud screams of Scott when the hulking beast sinks its huge wicked fangs in his brother's vulnerable flesh.
Terror takes a hold on his entire being. He doesn't know what to do, other than grabbing every rock he could find around him, and throwing them at the monster's head with as much strength as he could muster.
“LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!” His voice trembles and cracks. Stiles doesn't even register the line of tears streaming out of his eyes, soaking his cheeks.
After long torturous seconds, finally, the beast takes his teeth out of Scott's side, which tears another choked scream out of him.
Stiles flinches so bad he nearly falls back when those blazing eyes meet his own terrified ones. This is it. Now it's his turn to be mauled to death.
Weird enough, the beast -the wolf thing?- straightens up a bit and tilts its massive head to the side dog-like. It freezes for a second like it's listening to something in the distance. Then it takes off running in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness of the night. It happened so fast Stiles almost thought it vanished in thin air.
He snaps out of his stupor with Scott's pain felled groans. Stiles curses and runs to his injured friend's side. “Shit! Scott, buddy? Can you get up for me? Please, Scott, we need to get you the fuck out of here.”
Scott groans out loud when Stiles attempt to move him. “I think… I have a broken rib or two.” Scott whimpers.
“Fuck! Okay… Uh, okay, I can't even imagine how much this hurts, but we really should get the fuck out of the woods and get you some help,-” Stiles is trying to keep his breathing calm, if only for Scott's sake. Having a freaking panic attack now will not help at all.
“-and I know for a fact you don't want to stay here and wait for that fucking thing to change its mind and comes back to finish mauling us.” He wraps Scott's arm around his shoulders and supports Scott's back with his other free arm to help him stand up. Scott yelps in pain, even as Stiles does his best to be careful not to jostle his side and cause him more damage.
“You're gonna be okay, buddy, just… hold on a little more, okay?” Scott doesn't comment on how his shaking voice says otherwise, and Stiles is so thankful he could kiss him. Scratch that, he should kiss him so hard for saving his stupid ass.
Again, why the hell did he think it was a good idea to come to the woods, looking for a body in the middle of the night. With a possibility of the killer still lurking around. It's the perfect combination of a disaster. Of all his “brilliant” ideas, this one takes the cake.
“I think we're close to the road. Just… please hang on.” Stiles pleads.
Fortunately, it doesn't take long before they see glimpses of the pale blue jeep.
He helps set Scott in the passenger seat, gets in the car, and starts driving away from the preserve. Stiles is so relieved he barely stops himself from kissing the steering wheel.
“You’re ok there, buddy? How are your ribs? Any other pains there?” Stiles blurts out, unable to keep his worry under control.
“No extra pains. Actually, I don't think my ribs are broken either, they don’t hurt that much now.” Scott says, frowning in confusion.
Stiles' own eyebrows mimic Scott's, “are you sure? It could be the adrenaline pumping in your body. God knows you're probably so high with it.”
“Nah, don't think so, bro. The bite still hurt like a bitch. The adrenaline would numb everything, not just one thing, right?” Scott says, hopeful.
“Yeah, maybe, don't know honestly, but it's a good thing, right?” Stiles says with a shaky smile before it falls fast and his whiskey eyes widen in sudden panic. “Unless you're going into shock, are you going into shock? Please tell me you're not going into shock!” Stiles' breath begins to hyperventilate.
“No! I'm not going into shock! Jesus, Stiles! Take a deep breath and calm down before you have a panic attack and flip the car!” Scott shouts at him. “We didn't survive that thing attack, whatever the hell it was, just so we die in a car accident!”
“Okay, I'm calm, see? Totally calm.”
Stiles sags in the seat with relief. “Oh, thank God. I can only imagine what Melissa will do to me if I take you to the ER going into shock, with a bleeding, huge ass bite on your side.”
Startled, Scott screams, “you're not taking me to the hospital!! Are you nuts? Mom would kill me if she saw this!”
“So what? Am I supposed to take you home like this? Dude, you're bleeding!” Stiles says, incredulous.
“Look, just take me home, okay? I'll take care of it myself. And It's not even bleeding that much anymore. But mom should never know about this. I'll be so dead, man!” Says Scott, puppy brown eyes on full display.
“Ugh, fine! But I'm not responsible if you get rabies or something.” Well, technically, he is responsible for everything that happened tonight. Therefore, he is responsible for whatever might result from this night's events. So if anything happens to Scott…
He shakes those terrible thoughts off, and his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
Scott will be ok, Scott will be ok, Scott will be ok…
It keeps replaying over and over again inside his head like a mantra. Maybe if repeated enough times, he'll start believing it at some point.
***
Half an hour later, Stiles parks the jeep in the McCalls' driveway. Melissa's car is still absent since she has a night shift and won't be home till the next morning, thank God.
Stiles goes to help Scott out of the car, but he's surprised when Scott gets out on his own with only a wince. Maybe Scott was right, and his ribs are fine.
Stiles' shoulders lose some of their tension but still couldn't shake off the iron hold fear has on him. Not until he makes sure Scott wouldn't bleed to death, even if Scott said he isn't. Stiles needs to see it for himself.
Once inside the house, Stiles manhandles Scott into sitting on the couch in the living room. He runs to the bathroom, takes out the first aid kit box from the cabinet, and runs back to Scott.
He finds him poking at the bite wound, and wow, that's one huge, ugly motherfucking bite.
Stiles gets assaulted with images of Scott's guts outside his mauled body, swimming in a pool of his own blood and…
Stiles' stomach lurches violently, and he has swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and does the best next thing, which is snapping at Scott.
“The hell are you doing? You do not touch a gaping wound with dirty hands! I am SO disappointed in you right now I don't even know where to begin with! Your mother is a nurse, dude. She would have a heart attack if she knew about this!”
“She won't BECAUSE she will never know about this whole damn night had happened!” Scott snaps back, but at least his filthy hands are away from the bite now, small victories.
Stiles sighs aloud and kneels in front of the couch to have a better view.
Huh… On closer inspection, the puncture marks aren't as deep as he first thought, which is super weird. Stiles could swear the beast had sunk its teeth all the way down in Scott's side.
“By the way, how did you find me back there?” Stiles asks while cleaning the bite with a gentle hand.
“I thought I heard you scream, so I changed my direction to check out. Then you screamed again, and I ran to you.” Scott says.
Stiles' eyes start to sting at how fucking casual his answer was. Like it's so normal to attack a terrifying hulk of a beast with a simple tree branch as a weapon. When the more logical action would be getting the hell out of there and saving his own life. Not fucking risking it for Stiles and getting mauled in the process.
Stiles blinks several times and puts some bandages on the bite. “Don't you ever risk yourself like that again. You hear me? If anything remotely close to this happened again, you will run like hell the other way and never turn back. Understand?” Stiles snaps, sudden anger bubbling up his guts. “What you did there was downright stupid, and, God Scott, don't you ever scare me like that.” He wraps his arms around Scott in a fierce yet careful hug. He shuts his eyes tight and breathes in his friend's smell, axe deodorant, and minty shampoo, although it's overpowered with the stink of rubbing alcohol, dirt, sweat, and the rusty smell of blood on his ruined hoodie. It helps a little to reassure him Scott is here and going to be okay. He didn't lose his best friend.
“I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done for me,” Scott says, hugging him back.
He's right. If their roles were reversed, Stiles wouldn't hesitate a second before throwing himself to danger to save Scott's life. If it meant becoming a chew toy for monsters, so be it.
Hell, if the beast didn't let Scott in that instance, Stiles was going to lunge himself at it as a final desperate attempt to free Scott. “Thank you… and I'm so sorry, I… just thank you, thank you.” Stiles chokes out. Nuzzling Scott's shoulder.
Scott pats him on the back, “you're welcome!”
Reluctant, Stiles pulls back from the hug, a forced grin plastered on his face, “my personal idiot hero!” He says.
Scott rolls his eyes, but a happy smile takes place on his face. Satisfaction and contentment radiating from him, and Stiles' grin softens to a small smile.
And Stiles gets it. For all their childhood, it was Stiles who protected the two of them from the bullies; it was Stiles who took the heat of the most harassment; he made sure of it. And he was fine with it, as long as his frail, asthmatic friend stayed safe and sound. And God have mercy on whoever dared touch Scott. After a series of vicious pranks in fourth grade, when some asshole thought it was funny to steal Scott's inhaler. Everyone knew not to fuck with Stiles Stilinski's best friend.
So Stiles understands Scott's happiness and satisfaction right now. He finally was able to protect Stiles. Granted, it's not the same, Stiles' life was never under threat when they were bullied, but it doesn't matter to Scott. He saved Stiles, and he's happy and proud. The end of the story.
***
Stiles goes back home after insisting on Scott calling him should anything happen.
He runs straight to the bathroom and falls, knees hitting the unforgiving floor hard. He barely has time to register the sharp pain, and he lurches forward, emptying his stomach contents into the toilet.
He reaches a shaky hand and flushes the water, and drags his uncooperative body to lay against the wall near the toilet seat. Standing is out of the question, let alone do something else, like watching his mouth, not with how bad are the tremors rocking his body.
It was a real test for his control, staying as calm as he was in front of Scott, so he wouldn't stress him out even more.
Now in the safety of his bathroom, the panic attack he kept pushing down, is back and hitting him full force.
He's gasping for air, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, his heart beating so fast it might as well explode. And white and black spots filling his vision.
Stiles does nothing to prevent the attack. He lets the panic and pain consume him. It's the least punishment he deserves.
So when the blissful, silent darkness sneaks in, he closes his eyes and gladly lets it take over.