Chapter Text
Stiles slammed the door extra hard on the way out. Hopefully that would hurt those wolf ears of theirs. Maybe make their ears ring for days on end. They damn well deserve to with how far up their own asses they all were. Especially Derek.
Let's take a step back for a second.
Stiles was asked to the loft this lovely Thursday night out of the blue. Everything seemed completely normal at school. No weird supernatural shit, Stiles talked a bit with the rest of the pack, and Scott was just as in love with Allison as he was yesterday. Nothing new, nothing strange, nothing different.
So getting called to the loft had Stiles only slightly(read: very much) worried for his friends. Because at this point, that's basically what they are to Stiles. They're Scott's pack and Stiles and Scott are a package deal. Or so Stiles had thought.
"You aren't pack"
Not very surprising coming from Derek. He's a prickly werewolf, Stiles can live with that knowledge.
"We're just trying to keep you safe, dude."
Utter bullshit. Stiles is much safer around the fucking supernatural beings that can actually fight shit as long as they are told by someone else(literally Stiles) what they are fighting and how to beat the damn thing.
Seriously, Lydia is a damn genius but even Stiles knows that doing research takes time. Better having two people who actually know how to research rather than just one.
Stiles could believe that everyone, Derek included(even if it stung just a bit), wouldn't stick up for Stiles in 'being apart of the pack'. But Scott AGREEING, maybe not outright saying it but still. Scott's silence and lack of action to keep Stiles in the group spoke more than any other words could have.
His Jeep engine seems to growl, sensing Stiles own anger by the way Stiles gripped the wheel. He has to keep his mind from the worse of it's drifting just to make it home without swerving. Ignoring the water that seemed to build in his eyes that made Stiles all the more angry.
Stiles wasn't sure what he was hoping for when he pulled up to his street. Whether he wanted his Dad home or not. It didn't matter anyway because fate had decided that Stiles' Dad shall work a night shift tonight, again.
It certainly made what Stiles needed to do next a whole lot easier for him to do.
In carefully fluid motions, because if Stiles tripped and fell he might just not get back up, Stiles parked, turned off his car, and went into his house. Not breaking a sweat, Stiles quickly grabbed the mountain ash from his room and set to work 'using his Spark' as Deaton had put it.
Stiles doubts that Deaton intended for Stiles to use the mountain ash against the werewolves that he swore he was helping. But honestly, Deaton is such a cryptic asshole that Stiles is just going to say he did if any of those werewolves show up and try to enter his property.
Stiles circled the property in a counter-clockwise motion first, with the intent to ward off anyone that Stiles didn't invite and didn't live in his home. With what was left over, he circled again clockwise with the intent to protect the occupants of the house. Hopefully it would protect his Dad when he's at home and at his most vulnerable. It might also help Stiles sleep a bit at night too.
By the time Stiles had completely circled the property, there was little mountain ash left. That was something that Stiles would have to research on his own. Where to get mountain ash? And possibly other ways to protect his Dad and himself?
Yeah Stiles was definitely not getting any sleep tonight.
"-iles. Stiles." A disembodied hand was shaking Stiles awake, causing him to almost going flying from his chair.
Smacking away the arm without thinking about the mountain ash that would have protected himself, Stiles was on his feet and ready to… run? Punch? Yeah, no real clue there.
It took a minute before the eye crusts were rubbed out of Stiles' eyes and he saw his Dad. The arm that was smacked away hung loose back at the Sheriff's side. Stiles could read the look that his Dad gave him, concern.
"Not get much sleep, Stiles?" His Dad said, looking over his son. The way that Stiles held himself like he was ready to fight. It worried him to no end not knowing why his son had changed and why he just wouldn't tell him why.
"Uh- no I must have fallen asleep reading.." Stiles ran a hand over his hair as he surveyed his desk where he had slept. Some papers had landed on the floor, haphazard notes filled the pages upon pages that covered his desk and floor. His laptop must have fallen asleep or died in the night.
Morning? The time kinda blurs together when you're researching, fact-checking, and compiling information on Sparks, mountain ash, and other magical items that Stiles could very well need if Beacon Hills continues being the newest hot spot for the craziest supernatural beings there had to be out there.
The Sheriff sighs, "I'll call you out." He says making his way back out of Stiles' bedroom, to his own bedroom just down the hall.
Stiles didn't say anything at all. How could he say anything when he's been lying to his Dad for so long? Could he lie anymore? Did he really have any more lies in him?
The door shut on his Dad's room and Stiles stood among the wreckage that his bedroom had become. Looking over everything but not really fully seeing everything, Stiles focused on the clock on his bedside table.
7:45 A.M.
Not bad for time. Stiles kicked at one of the papers on the ground as he thought. His Dad would probably be asleep for a couple hours at least, until noon at best. Stiles had plenty of time to drive out of town to check out some of the spiritual stores that Google had found and be back with whatever he could pick up or that could be useful.
Stiles also had a few antique bookstores he wanted to check out as well. Sadly not every book was on the web, yet.
Slowly, giving his Dad some time to get into prim REM sleep, Stiles got dressed. Careful of the amount of noise he made, even though Stiles knew that his Dad didn't have super hearing.
With plain clothes, Stiles packed one of his older backpacks that had a minimal amount of holes. Stiles shoved whatever money he had left(he'd probably have to pick up some sort of side hustle) and what was left of the mountain ash(just in case).
Stiles didn't try to test his luck after doing the bare minimum in the bathroom, he didn't stop in the kitchen to attempt to eat something. Even though Stiles can't remember eating when he got home.
Outside, Stiles looked around the borders of his home. Nothing seemed out of place. No one was out, watching. Good. Not wanting his hope to run out, Stiles started up his Jeep, throwing his bag into the passenger seat to hit the road.
The couple stores went into and the antique stores he scavenged had a wide variety of items. Some stores were useful, like old lore books on supernatural creatures(something very similar to the copy that Derek had found in the Hale house wreckage) and a store he found that sold a lot of strange things but more importantly mountain ash.
Other stores were less useful. Like the store that made his nose sting from the heavy fumes of incense that were lit apparently all the time.
His backseat had two separate shopping bags now and Stiles fiddled with his wallet, wondering if he should waste what money he had left on grabbing something to eat even though he still didn't feel hungry. Though he didn't feel hungry in the stomach growling and cramping way, Stiles was starting to get a headache.
Stiles' Jeep was parked at a small truck stop, about 20 miles from Beacon Hills. The truck stop was bordering some dense wooded area. Stiles watched the forest in front of him as he thought.
If he wanted to use what was left of his money, he needed to first come up with his side hustle. He couldn't just mow his neighbors' lawns, in the winter months, it wouldn't be as needed because grass growing speeds decrease significantly in the winter months. What did he have at home that he could use to make something?
He could do research for others? No it would be way too close to what he was doing for Derek and Scott. And they could just end up using him for research and pay him for it. Stiles does not want their money. If they didn't want him in the Pack then they weren't getting shit from him anymore.
He could make things? Yea no way in hell that was happening. Stiles' doesn't have that much talent nor the time to waste resources to build up a talent.
Stiles needed something simple. Something that he could follow to a T. Like a check list of tasks to get a result. Like a recipe.
Stiles had some baking supplies at home already. They weren't used often but they were there from when he was a kid. His Dad never threw them away, just shoved them to the back of drawers and cabinets.
And Stiles had most of the ingredients at home anyways. He might need to make a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up more of something and anything missing, but nothing that will immediately run him broke.
And the demand would always be high. Who doesn't like cupcakes?
With that problem solved for the time. Stiles went to start up his Jeep again when he saw movement just behind the brush of the forest. Stiles froze. Watching the brush carefully.
Please don't attack. Please don't attack.
Stiles eyes followed the unnatural swaying of the brush as something moved slowly through it. A branch cracked from the brush as out of the brush emerged something that made Stiles let go of the key on the ignition.
Two tiny arms that still had baby fat clinging to them came out of the brush first. Then a little head that had curly brown hair that had leaves clinging to it came out. The toddler by Stiles best estimate crawled out of the brush on its own.
Stiles was out of the car in an instant. Walking quickly over to the baby that was crawling on the ground and probably getting all scratched up by whatever was on the ground.
Stiles leaned over and slowly picked the baby up, trying to remember what Mrs. McCall had said about holding a baby. The baby was wearing a bright yellow onesie that was partially covered in dirt.
Okay don't freak out, Stiles. Someone has just lost their baby. There's no way they aren't looking for them now.
Holding the baby close to his chest, Stiles inspected from a distance the brush that the baby came from. His strained to hear anything that wasn't normal. Nothing. Quickly, Stiles walked back to his seat in the Jeep.
He placed the mystery baby on his seat gently, removing his jacket to keep the baby from rolling off to the floor of the Jeep because if the baby knew how to crawl, than they knew how to roll, right?
Making sure that he had the keys and his bat, Stiles closed and locked the door of his Jeep and went to get a closer look at the brush. Moving slowly Stiles used the bag to poke into the bushes.
He almost went past another huge bush when he saw it a few yards off. Stiles could only focus on one thing a hand. A clawed hand.
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Stiles scrambled back from the bush.
No movement came from the bush. Stiles intruded past the bush to get a better look. The clawed hand led to shifted woman half buried recently. Definitely once was a werewolf.
It was hard to swallow as Stiles looked over what was left of her. It must have been recently. Stiles walked around the body, keeping a sizable distance because this is a crime scene.
Poking out of another bush, much closer to what has to be the baby's mother(and that made Stiles freak out just a bit internally because that means that it's very likely there's a baby werewolf currently in his Jeep right now) was some bright yellow fabric.
Using the other end of his baseball bat, Stiles slowly dragged out the fabric to get a better look. Though it was surprising, Stiles still gawked when he pulled out a baby blanket. Picking up the dirty blanket, his fingers ran over the embroidered writing.
Selene
That must be werewolf baby's name, Selene. Stiles looked back at the mother. He had to call this in. He couldn't just leave her out here. No one deserved to be left alone.
Crap the baby!
Stiles kept the baby blanket close as he moved through the bush again, to his Jeep. Unlocking the driver's side door, The newly dubbed Selene was still right where he left her. She giggled when Stiles looked over her.
Slowly, Stiles picked her up again in her blanket, ignoring how both the blanket and her onesie were dirty. He would fix that later, right now Selene needed to be held because her mom was gone. Though Stiles remained cautious because he has no idea when werewolves get their teeth.
Stiles sways the baby around in his arms, trying to ignore any thoughts because right at this moment he just needs to figure how he should travel with a baby back to Beacon Hill safely. If he were to think about everything right now like his brain wanted to (and was trying to do), then he'd be in this empty parking lot all day.
A repetitive crunching came from the woods, so soft from the distance but Stiles was on edge already. A tiny whine came from Selene, making Stiles throw caution to the wind on the whole possible werewolf teeth and put the baby closer to his neck.
Taking a step towards the brush to get a better look, Stiles saw a small group around the werewolf. Her blood had since stopped flowing quickly. The leading man had a bandage across his chest and Stiles knew what this group was.
Hunters.
Hunters that had killed this werewolf. Killed a mother without regard for her child. Hunters that burned a mother to hide what they had done.
Hunters that would definitely kill a defensiveness baby werewolf and teenager to cover their tracks.
Stiles backed away from the brush slowly, opening his Jeep back up. His front stayed watching the forest. Just in case the hunters came for them. All Stiles could smell now was the smell of burning flesh, something that Stiles hadn't smelled before he got mixed up in this supernatural business. But instead of taking a life with fire, though Stiles has little sympathy for Peter at the time, Stiles was watching and couldn't do anything to stop it. It was already too late to help Selene's mom.
Stiles used his left arm and hand to keep the baby held up against him, not wanting the baby to be jostled, he started the car and threw the car out of the parking lot. As soon as he was a decent amount away from the forest, Stiles slowed the Jeep down from almost too fast to almost too slow.
Every now and again on the ride back to Beacon Hills, Stiles looked down at the sleeping baby. The baby's hand gripped his shirt just a little tighter than Stiles thought a normal baby could.
Right now, Stiles only knew one thing besides this baby's name. It was that this baby couldn't just be put into the foster system like any other baby. Not only because of the hunters that might look for her, now and in the future. It was also because as far as Stiles was aware there was no supernatural foster care system.
This werewolf wouldn't have a clue what was going on with her and her very human parents wouldn't know either. Stiles just shivered at remembering how hard it was for the turned werewolves to learn to control their new natures. It was only with help that they really understood how to control their werewolf-ness now.
There was no way a baby werewolf would be able to on her own.
Passing the Beacon Hills sign made Stiles breathe in relief. He could drive these roads with his eyes closed(though his Dad would ground him until he was thirty if he even suggested that).
Selene cuddled up more into his shoulder and Stiles knew that he had to do what was best for this baby. No matter what. I mean it would practically be the safest thing he could do related to the supernatural. How hard is it to take care of a werewolf baby anyways?
Now he just had to convince his Dad that he can care for a baby he just happened to find while still in high school. Yeah, that is going to be a problem.