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When Stiles was 7 years old, she saw her mother die in her hospital bed with resignation in her eyes. Not at the feeling that death has finally come to fetch her, but the one where her daughter has been replaced by a monster and has come to kill her.
Her last words were calling Stiles a monster, a thing that had stolen her daughter’s body and speaking through her and damned her to eternity in hell.
There was no trace of the kind and sweet loving mother that gifted her her first Batman comic, no trace of the woman who cleaned her scraped knee while murmuring sweet words of how brave she was. There was only the disease, the disease that has taken over her mother's brain and speaking through her mouth.
It's ironic, really. Her mother calls her a monster in disguise, when Stiles only saw one monster in disguise.
Stiles was 7, and yet she felt like a heavy boulder had been dumped on top of her shoulders and her feet had been chained to hold that weight for eternity.
Stiles wonders if this was what Atlas felt when he got a hold of the sky for the first time.
Suffice to say, Stiles’ experience with mothers was not overall great. Though Melissa filled in the part of mother figure moving forward, the stain on the position of ‘Mother’ was still visible in her eyes.
No matter how hard you scrub, there will always be a slight noticeable discoloration there to mark its spot. As a child seeing what a disease could do to a mother, a young Stiles had decided that she would never put a child in the same position as her, and swore off having children at the mere 1% possibility of her contracting the same illness as Claudia Stilinski.
Derek Hale was both the storm and the cool rain water on her 16 year-old skin, despite their rough first meeting.
She has always been open to the possibility that the supernatural was real, a naive thought process that maybe things from her comic books and mythology books might be more real than she thought. But actually seeing and meeting them was a different story, when her best friend was bitten and turned by a werewolf.
It shook something deep in her, but she proceeded and adapted quickly to become the sound of reason for the then newly turned Scott McCall.
Their first meeting and the events following after was a rough patch, a really rough one that was filled with false accusations and angry warnings and a bunch of violent retaliations. Though not even Derek could blame her for her actions, as at the end of the day, she was better at adapting to the supernatural than Scott. And with the circumstances that were put on her, Derek begrudgingly agreed that her actions were reasonable.
From then on, Derek has become a keen presence in her not so normal life. From looming in the far corner of her eye, to actively involving himself in new problems that emerged in Beacon Hills.
But she really began getting close to Derek Hale when she had to hold his paralyzed body up in a freezing pool for nearly two hours as a Kanima, who was once the biggest asshole in Beacon Hills High School, eyed them like a drooling hyena. A small semblance of trust was forged that night, at the very least, they understood each other better since then.
If Derek got a hint of her speeding heart after that, he never mentioned it. To which Stiles doesn't know whether to be thankful for, or feel disappointed.
Deaton told her about a certain spark on her, and Stiles hated how vague the druid was and left her to discover about her “spark” by herself. A spark, someone close to a mage but also not, someone with a close relation to the supernatural world and has control over the force of nature and serves as their trusted guardian. A Spark chosen and guided by mother nature to guard her children, in Beacon Hills case, to protect the magical tree that is the Nemeton. A giant tree that is now a stump that is also the source of immense supernatural power.
Fun, at least it helped her a bit with runes and markings, she never delved deeper into it.
Well, she would’ve.
Then, the deaths started happening.
The first death that affected her was Erica and Boyd's, done by the hands of a Pack of Alphas that had thought they were the shit and tried to take over what once had been Hale territory for many decades. They were her age, went to the same school as her, Erica had a crush on her at some point, but above anything else they were her friends.
Not to mention that she was most likely the last person who saw them alive, last seeing them when she was beaten bloody and bruised by Gerard Argent while they were forced to watch as they were chained and electrocuted. There was nothing she could've done, she was one girl, and Gerard Argent was a seasoned bloodthirsty Hunter, but oh how she wonders what would happen if she had just been a little stronger.
That was the first time Derek had willingly let her touch him without an angry snarl or snarky comment. She just held him, her jeans damp where she had knelt down on the water that had flooded in and her tank top damply cold against her torso, Derek Hale's face tucked into the crook of her neck as she felt his tears hit her her neck and his hands gripped her bare shoulders.
If there's one thing she does know, it was grief. She let him sneak through her bedroom window the nights following that, not saying a word to each other. Stiles offered him a blanket and a pillow on the blown up air mattress beside her bed at night, and woke up to the mattress empty and the blanket neatly folded.
Then Allison died, and it was her fault.
It wasn't, really, but it was her body that commanded the Oni. The Nogitsune made her into the perfect shell for chaos, it controlled her body while she screamed and banged inside of her head to wake up and take control again, stuck in an ongoing game of go against the malevolent fox spirit.
It's an odd thing, guilt. It wasn't your fault really, but your body was the one that did the deed. You're not in control, and you're forced to see what the thing that has taken over you is doing with your body, moving and talking for you, telling and doing things that she would never do or say.
It was at that point of her life that Stiles knew how her mother felt in her hospital bed, helpless as you watch someone else take over your body and use it to harm others.
No amount of flowers and apologies in front of Allison's grave will ever erase that guilt, only Chris Argent's assurance that none of it was Stiles’ fault was able to somewhat calm the raging storm of guilt that rages in the deepest part of her soul.
And all through it, Derek Hale was there to lessen the burden of her guilt. He knows guilt, and he knows it as well as Stiles does.
They were similar, in a way.
Who knew, the sorrow and stabbing feeling of grief was the thing that is getting them closer.
Derek knew grief when his first childhood girlfriend died in his lap after rejecting the bite from Ennis, leaving him to mercy kill her to end her suffering. Then he met the most foul woman Stiles has ever had the curse of meeting, Kate Argent, who took advantage of him and groomed a teen Derek to get to his family and burned them inside the Hale House–Stiles had never wanted to hit a woman so much until she heard about Kate–leaving a grieving Derek with his older sister and a comatosed uncle.
Stiles knew him from then, not closely, but she saw him with bags under his eyes and the heavy weight of grief on his hunched shoulders when she was at the police station because her dad couldn’t find a babysitter in time. She knows exactly how he felt, she knows the look of grief very intimately, it was the same look that stared back at her every time she looked in the mirror after her mother’s death.
It was the same look she had when her mother’s frontotemporal dementia took over her consciousness for the first time and made her lunge at Stiles with a knife, it was the first time she ever felt true fear of her mother even after her dad pulled her off of Stiles.
It was the same look she had when her visits to the hospital less and less as it became more depressing with every insult and accusation of her being a monster coming to kill her mother.
It was the same look she had when she found her mother on the rooftop of the hospital and trying to convince her dad that it was the only way to get rid of the monster that keeps haunting her, Stiles noticed the same look in her dad’s eyes so clearly that night.
And it was the same look she had after her mother’s coffin was lowered to the ground and her father was drunk and so neck deep in the bottle. Stiles starved that night so she wouldn’t have to see her father breaking down in the kitchen.
Stiles knew grief, her dad did too, and they’re both doing their best to be better for each other. She missed her mom’s tales of myths and magic, her stories how her mom’s family was magic and Stiles was too, but she learned to cherish those memories.
But Derek Hale lost more than she did.
A single Reese's cup sat on the chair he was sitting on when he came back from the bathroom, Stiles already left before she could see Derek’s reaction. If Derek knew she was the one who did that, he never brought it up, Stiles was fine with that.
Then, like all good things in her life, Derek decided to leave Beacon Hills. Stiles didn’t try to stop him, but her eyes followed him as he said his goodbyes to everyone and as he subtly returned her pleading look for him to stay with a guilty one, before getting in his damned camaro with Braeden and driving away. Oh, how bad she wanted to pretend that the whisper of “Bye, Stiles.” in her ear wasn’t real, but his fading warmth was like a sharp slap bringing her back to reality.
Scott asked her if she was okay that night, she left him on read as she snuck up to her rooftop and lit her first cigarette.
She has a lot of regrets in her life, not confessing her feelings to Derek and spilling her heart out was one of her biggest regrets. Maybe it was fear of rejection, maybe because she thought it would go away. But he has to know, he would’ve smelt it on her with those damned werewolf senses, but she doesn’t want to think about it, cause it meant that he was purposefully ignoring it, but he must’ve had a reason, a reason she doesn’t want to think about.
And if Scott smelled the smell on her the next day, he only gave her a disapproving look that she ignored.
Everything was a blur after graduation, and she packed up her things the moment the email for the FBI internship acceptance came in. And with her father’s blessing, she headed off to the FBI Academy.
FBI Academy was nice, it has been her dream to be just like her dad and get into law enforcement. But to her father’s chagrin, cop cases bore the hell out of her, so she opted for the FBI in hope of more interesting cases. There was a secret supernatural division in the FBI, and she quickly became the most reliable personnel to her colleagues, as her previous experiences fighting and researching big bads are very often used on the field.
It was fun, it was nice, it was a small break from her life in Beacon Hills. She keeps in contact with her friends and dad, weekly phone and video calls, and many many emails and texts. She misses them, she misses her friends, she misses her dad, but she doesn’t miss Beacon Hills.
When she received her first paycheck, she bought a cabin on the Montauk beach in Long Island. A nice change of scenery when she needs it, when she starts to get bored in Quantico and needs an off time.
She doesn’t want to acknowledge that the real reason she bought a place in Montauk was because it was an hour away from New York, the tiny tiny hope of maybe running into Derek at any point.
She never did, and the hole in her heart became cold, the missing piece disappearing with Derek wherever he was.
Then, she met Poseidon.
Oh Poseidon, how he was a brief balm to her wounds.
From the moment that she saw him rise out of the water that day at the Beach in Montauk, she knew that he was not human, he couldn't be. Even with her baggy eyes and exhaustion after finishing up a report just the night before, she could never mistake this man as human.
She was wary at first, but the wound in her heart was making her feel hollow, and she yearned for a balm to that burn, a splash of cold water on her burning heat.
He was kind, sea green eyes captivates her as he twirls her around the beach, sand getting in-between their toes. It was cliche, like some cringey romance movie montage, and she loved it. They joked and laughed, he caressed her face so sweetly and his words mused her so well, he laughed at her sarcasm and dark humor. He loved her witty comebacks, her random chimes of supernatural facts, and her flailing limbs.
“Queen Amongst Women” he had called her, he offered to build her a castle under the sea, she splashed water at him as a response. In truth, Stiles was shocked that anyone would even think of doing that, especially for her. She was usually the one who offers, the one who gives reassurances and sanctuary to Supernaturals. And here he was, a God of the sea in mortal skin, offering her a place by his side.
Poseidon, at that moment, filled the empty spot in her heart. Her heart felt less hollow for the first time in a while, the hole in her heart is patched up lightly with bandages and soothed by cooling balms.
She loved him, and she truly believes that he did too.
Even after he left, Stiles stayed out in the rain just to quench the longing feeling in her heart. Can you blame her? The feeling of longing has been consuming her ever since Beacon Hills, and someone has soothed her hurt and made it easier.
But in truth, Stiles doesn't know what she truly longs for. Was it Poseidon, or the rainy days of Beacon Hills.
Or Derek, her mind supplied.
All her life, she longed for a relationship.
When she was a child, she longs for a relationship with another child so she wouldn’t be the weird one alone, and Scott came into her life after she protected him from bullies.
After that, she longed for a relationship with her mom after the disease changed her view of Stiles. Before she died, her mom granted her one last mercy with a soft “Mischief…” before flat-lining.
Then she longed for a relationship with her dad after her mother’s death got him deep in the bottle, and and she felt the warmth of his embrace and his hot tears on her cardigan after she begged him to have her daddy back or else her Nana will take Stiles back with her to Poland.
She longed for a relationship with Lydia Martin, being the very few queer kid in Beacon Hills Highschool, and finally having one with her from sort of friends, to friends, briefly dating, before becoming one of her best friends.
She longed for a relationship with the Hale pack, somewhere to belong with her newly turned werewolf best friend. It was hard, but her snark and strategies somehow bonded all of them together.
And she longed, she longed for a relationship with Derek Hale. She let him enter her room through her window for some consultation, she let him stay in her room when he needed someone who understood grief like her, she let him lean on her when he was breaking down. Even after he left, she longed to see him again.
Did she long for a relationship with Poseidon? Yes, she did.
She longed for him to fill the hole in her heart, or maybe she just longed for someone who could provide her with the relationship she longed to have with a lost love.
She doesn’t know, but Poseidon was there for her at that time. And that was enough.
They spent a summer together, a summer of not waking up alone after a night of ecstasy, a summer of sweet words and gestures of affection, something she longed for from someone she loved but was too cowardice to act on that feeling. She knew too, as much as she loves him, she could never truly have Poseidon.
She was well versed in her myths, she knew about the Gods and their affairs, and she knew she was just a mere flash in his life no matter how much he truly cherishes her. The cycle repeats, but she was only human, and it is human nature to want something you can’t have.
The summer ends, and Stiles merely kisses him on the cheek as he holds her hands and tries to convince her to come with him to Atlantis. She chuckled when he pitched her the castle under the sea idea again, and shook her head as she told him goodbye.
But the absence of Poseidon does not leave her feeling empty, and neither was her womb. But she wasn’t repulsed by the idea of a child, and instead it became the new healing balm for her heart, one that gives her hope. Hope for the child growing inside of her, hope for company, not being alone again.
But with that hope, comes fear, fear at what the fate of her child will be. What the risk of his blood will bring, and what dangers that awaits him. She wanted her child to have a life, a childhood, a future. A life not like hers had been, she wanted him to feel safe.
Oh how the world would be cruel to her child, wanting to take a chunk out of him like wild rabid dogs. A child of one of the big three Gods and a Spark? Her son was practically a bright red flare for those who thirsts for blood.
And Gods, how much she would give to protect him from the world, she knows it’s impossible, so she does everything she could.
She called her boss and told him that changes are to be made, and from then on, her field jobs started decreasing so as to not strain her body. Maneuvering her detailed work from an office at a base in Virginia to an apartment she bought in New York City was complicated, a real hassle, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. If anything, her job basically went back to its roots from what it once was in her childhood bedroom in Beacon Hills.
Telling her father about her pregnancy was…a doozy, if the cussing of the man who knocked her up from over the phone was anything to go by, and he showed up a few days later with Melissa demanding to know what conspired. She told him that it was a one night stand thing and that the guy is lost at sea now, Melissa gave her comfort and support as much as she can and some useful advice.
Scott followed soon after, and she didn’t realize how much she missed her childhood friend and brother until he was hugging her so tightly but made sure not to squeeze her. She brushed him off when he mentioned the strange scent of sea salt and ozone, saying it was something she was researching and hoping he wouldn’t look too deep into it.
Stiles has never seen Lydia Martin frazzled before, but when the woman showed up at her New York apartment looking like she came straight from the airport. She demanded to know the events that followed up to her pregnancy, and demanded to know the name of the man that knocked her up and left her to deal with it.
Unfortunately for Stiles, Lydia is way more perceptive than Scott, so her excuse wouldn’t fly with her and any other excuse she would make up would be swatted away by the sharp red-head. So she tells her the truth, and Lydia Martin called her an idiot, before tucking Stiles into her.
“Okay, let’s figure this out.” Lydia said. “But you need to tell your dad, whether you want to or not. He’s going to be the kid’s grandfather, he needs to know.”
Stiles went back home for the first time in years, it was brief but the amount of nostalgia hit her like a large wave ready to consume her whole. Her childhood home was always comforting, no matter whatever else she felt about the small town she grew up in.
Her dad was silent for an entire minute, and Stiles’ heart was beating out of her chest no matter how much she tried to calm it down. Dread consumed her when her dad got up and left upstairs for a few minutes, but she felt relief when he came back with a small worn out journal. She knew the journal, she remembered her mom writing in it from time to time, but she never touched it after she died–she was afraid to read her writing, afraid to see her writing deteriorate because of her dementia.
When her dad flipped the thick and worn journal open to a certain page and slid it over to her, slowly somethings she had always wondered about in her past started to make sense.
Her grandmother fell in love with a woman, it was before she met Stiles’ grandfather. Claudia Stilinski wrote about how the Gajos family were a family of mages, how the women of the family inherited magic in their bloodline, and how her mother–Małgorzata Gajos–was a practicing mage.
Claudia Stilinski wrote about how her mother fell in love with a woman, hiding their relationship secret as it was very illegal at the time to be queer. She wrote about how they spent a summer together and how her mother loved the woman, before the woman suddenly disappears from her life. At that time, Stiles’ babcia met the man who is the namesake of her Polish name–Mieczyslaw Stilinski was a military man on the surface and a passionate and kind man on the inside–and Małgorzata Gajos was smitten with the kind man. But a few months later, the woman returned, but with a child cradled in her arms.
The woman Małgorzata Gajos fell in love with, the woman she spent her summer with, was a Goddess. Hecate, the goddess of magic, was her summer lover. And seeing as a Goddess's powers goes beyond logic and possibilities, Hecate has birthed a child born from their summer union. Claudia Stilinski was a child of Hecate and a Polish woman born within a family of mages, a demigod of the goddess of magic and a mage. And Stiles pieces it all together.
Her mother was a demigod of Hecate, her mother’s family are mages, and how her being a Spark was probably not as much of a coincidence as she might have thought. And now, she was about to have a child who is a demigod, the irony of how Stiles’ love life became a carbon copy of her grandmother’s is both amusing and terrifying.
But with this discovery, Stiles figured out that maybe her own child might have a future after all. Her mother did, what wouldn’t she do to have her child to be able to have a proper childhood.
She took the journal back to New York, and delved deeper into researching how to protect her child than she had ever researched anything in her entire life. Her research side by side with her case board, solving murders and finding out more about Greek Gods and Greek mythology at the same time. Back and forth from writing case reports and studying her mother’s journal.
It was exhausting, but she continued forward so her child could live better than her. She hadn’t touched her ADHD meds either since she got pregnant, but even with her ADHD messing with her focus, she refused to take it as to not risk her child’s safety and tried to proceed with her work.
Her dad and friends visit her when they can, and call and VC to check up on her every other day. Asking her if she needs anything and offering her a place to stay if she needed company.
All through it all, she never got a glimpse of Derek Hale even once.
That was fine, she was fine.
And her child will be fine as well.
It was raining when Percy Jackson was born, his screams are accompanied with flashes of thunder and lightning among the water droplets hitting against the glass window. Her dad booked the first flight available when she had called him about her contractions, and Scott and Melissa tagged along with him. Lydia Martin threw a fit when her flight was delayed, but soothed Stiles through her pain through the phone as she lay in her hospital bed. Her contractions proceed through the next few hours, it recedes a bit after her dad bursts through the door looking so disheveled he could be mistaken as a homeless man. Scott’s werewolf ability to take away pain was an absolute godsend for her contractions, and Melissa checked her vitals every minute to make sure she was fine.
Her dad’s poor hand was nearly bleeding from how tightly she gripped it, nailmarks were embedded into his skin but Noah Stilinski never showed any pain from it, not when his little girl was birthing another life out into the world.
Perseus Noah Stilinski was born on August 18th bundled in a baby blue blanket, born with his father’s raven black hair and sea green eyes, but inheriting Stiles’ nose and smile.
Noah Stilinski cried as he held his newborn grandson in his arms, tiny fingers wrapping around his much larger index finger. He saw so much of Claudia Stilinski in Stiles, but watching her hold her son brought back the memories of his wife holding their baby daughter for the first time.
His baby girl had a baby now, she's all grown up.
Scott McCall cried as much as the baby, sobbing when Stiles handed Percy over to his ‘uncle Scott’ while also holding the newborn infant as gently as he could even with his werewolf strength. And Melissa had to take Percy off his hands so he could calm down.
Melissa McCall looked down at the baby and teared up, the girl she saw as her own now has a child of her own. She remembered when Stiles and her son would run around getting themselves into things they shouldn’t, and now one of them has a little baby.
Lydia Martin came into the hospital room holding bags of gifts and supplies, told Stiles that a new crib was already being shipped to her apartment, before motioning for Melissa to hand over the baby.
Lydia couldn’t comprehend it at first. This girl, the girl that had a crush on her throughout high school, the girl who took to the supernatural like a duck to water, the girl who could match her intelligence and thought process, now has a child. She could tell the child would match his mother’s mischief in the future, but she could also see that the boy would have a difficult life.
But for now, she was just his aunty Lydia, and that was enough.
While her friends and father reminisced, Stiles Stilinski was plotting. When her family went out of the room to get her something to eat, Stiles took out a burner phone from the bottom of her hospital bag, and dialed one of her contacts. And the next thing she knew, fake identities for Sally Jackson and Percy Jackson were made.
She explained the plan thoroughly to Lydia, the only person that would understand her reasoning and plan, and let her handle relaying the necessary information to her dad and the McCalls.
When she was cleared to leave the hospital, she changed every registration in her name into Sally Jackson’s. She used her reputation at the FBI to aid her plan, one of the main supervisors aided her in her identities as he belonged to the local werewolf pack in Virginia that owes Stiles a favor after she aided them with a pixie problem.
Stiles and Percy Stilinski only existed within whispers of a few known parties, while Sally Jackson was an accountant and the single mother of Percy Jackson who lives in an apartment building in New York.
No one knew of Stiles Stilinski, only those who owed favors to her knew the truth, and even then they owed her too much to spill anything, and those who tried will be swiftly taken care of.
Percy was trouble, no doubt about that. It started when she found him playing with a limp snake in his toddler hands, then he told her that a man with one eye in the middle of his face is watching him at the playground, then he told her that a winged horse followed him from school.
Stiles knew he got that from her, he even inherited her mischievous grin. Her dad said that too, but Stiles thinks that he got it from his father.
But then that means that he was getting exposed, and things were actively seeking him now. She may be able to fight them off, but what happens when she isn't there? Stiles knew that she must do something, her motherly instincts screaming at her, telling her that he must do everything in her power to protect him.
So, she acted accordingly.
She had put her job at the FBI on hold, going on a hiatus that would last for years. taking a job at a candy store and honing her skills working as a private investigator to earn money for herself and her son. Her father was there as much as he could, offering her to go back home and half of his salary and Melissa did the same, Stiles declines the offer to both with a sad smile.
Poseidon visited, Percy didn’t see him as he was too distracted with the new toy Lydia had gotten him, but he stood from a distance in her apartment and gazed at Percy with a regretful look. He told her Percy needs to attend a camp in the future, a camp for people like him, Camp Half-Blood in Long Island where he would get to train with people like him and be prepared for his life to come.
But Stiles couldn't, she couldn't let him. Because she's afraid that she'll lose him forever.
But the monsters kept coming, Percy told her that a man with one eye and a large coat was watching him at the park one day. They kept coming for him, she needed a better solution.
Her son’s scent was the problem, a demigod of a big three God like Percy would have a scent that attracts monsters. If she could cover up her son’s scent, then he would be safer.
Gabe Ugliano was the most wretched man she has ever met, his name matched him greatly with his unattractive looks that reminded her so much of a pig. She has seen ugly mug, but this guy takes the damn cake. But the most notable thing about him was his stench, so bad that you can smell the horrible mix of cigarettes and stale beers along with sweaty gym socks from miles away, like a room full of sweaty gym bros stuck in one room and the smell has become so evil and sentient and made a human form.
It was the perfect cover for her son.
She had met him at a bar, where she’d had come to have a drink after a meeting with a client–a vampire looking for intel on a hunter, Stiles sent him to Italy. He was sitting at the bar and a mountain of beer bottles sat next to him, the bartender was actively grimacing at the man but served another beer with a disgusted look. She approached him and introduced herself, ignoring the way he looked her up and down like a shiny new car, and asked him to dinner.
She bit her tongue and gritted out compliments through her teeth, running her fingers through greasy hair and stopped herself from facing away every time he kissed her.
The alarm bells in her head were screaming at her, blinking bright red while shouting ‘bastard alert! Bastard alert! Stay away as far as possible!’ and the amount of times she hears what sounds like her younger teen voice asking her ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ in her head was merely stored away in the back of her mind. This guy’s smell was the important thing she needed right now. She hasn't found another solution yet, she doesn’t know if her Spark would work on Percy, she doesn’t want to risk trying and hurting her son.
The rest doesn’t matter.
There was no wedding, it was just her and Gabe in a chapel with an officiate, young Percy was glaring at the man as he said “I do” and glared harder when he kissed her.
Stiles drugged Gabe’s drink on their wedding night, and threw her clothes on the ground to make it seem like they had sex that night. She would do anything to protect her son, but she can do it while also maintaining her self respect and dignity, even if she has to play dirty. She lived in the apartment longer, she knows every nook and cranny and hidden spaces where she could hide the bottle of Rohypnol that she bought off one of contacts in Mexico.
Gabe Ugliano was loud, he was brash, and he was disgusting. She would play the obedient house wife when he invites his poker friends over, cooking and cleaning after them like a damn housemaid while praying to the Gods that her son was safe at boarding school. She would endure every threat and violent words he threw at her as he cooked him a damn nice steak dinner along with a bottle of beer. She would continue to drug his drinks every time he wanted to make love and feign soreness in the morning to satisfy him. She would endure the few times he laid his hands on her as long as his scent lingered everywhere in the apartment.
She let him strip away her identity within the apartment and replaced it with his own, her books were moved into storage so his dirty magazines and books on automobiles took over her book shelf, and the decor that Lydia and her had picked together were taken down and sold so he could afford his gambling money.
Everything that makes her apartment hers has been stripped away and replaced by him and his things, cigarette buds and beer bottles litter the carpet often and were left for her to clean up as the bastard sleeps peacefully on the mattress that she bought with her own damn salary.
But she was still her, and a comment about blue food being nonexistent from him when Percy was home for the summer made her buy so many bottles of blue food coloring and blue spirulina just to spite him. If he wanted food, he would have to eat her damn blue mac and cheese and like it.
And on top of it, it’s always a joy to see the mischievous smile that mirrors her own on Percy’s face.
As the days followed, his actions became bolder, his threats became more violent. At first it only extended to her, but then as Percy got older and became more snarky, the threats began extending to him too. She told him that he could treat her like shit all he wants, but the day that he dares to touch her son would be the day he regrets it. She remembered that day, she confronted him on the kitchen island after she served him his damn bean dip.
“Gabe, can I ask you something?”
He merely grunted, his fat fingers scooping up more of the dip she made with her own damn money because he has no money to his name at all.
“I’m just going to say it, have you ever laid a hand on my son?”
He looked up for the first time from his bean dip and looked at her, her face was devoid of any expression, before huffing a laugh.
“The little shit’s not worth the energy,” Stiles quietly sighed in relief, but Gabe continued with “but I think he deserves a good spanking.”
Stiles gritted her teeth so hard that they could shatter, her hands clenched into fists on the kitchen island so tightly that her knuckles turned pale, she was aware that the drawer behind her contains a butcher knife she could easily take out and put against his throat. Gabe didn’t even notice the air getting heavier, the lights that began flickering and downright on the brink of shattering as her Spark was on the verge or lashing out. But she took a deep breath, she stared him dead in the eyes, “If you ever dare to lay a hand on my son, Gabe Ugliano, I swear to every deity out there that nothing will keep you safe from me.”
He looked at her, seeing the hard look in her eyes, and went silent for a bit. He then laughed and pushed her around some more, but Stiles knew he was unsettled by her.
Good, and she would make sure that he kept his hands away from her dear child by bringing back her signature snark.
He got crueler, but it was fine.
Her friends and family were concerned because of her lack of contact ever since she married Gabe, but she was fine.
Lydia spammed her phone and forced her to tell her that she knows what she was doing and just keep her family blind for her, because she was fine.
She was fine, she has to be.
She was fine, because Gabe was cruel, but his stench protects her son.
She was fine, because her son’s attacks and monster sightings decreased.
She was fine, because her son stopped seeing things he shouldn’t.
She was fine, because her son was fine.
As long as he was fine, she would be fine as well.
Until she found out that Gabe Ugliano, the stinkiest man she has ever met, the shittiest man she has ever met, has laid a hand on her son.
She just came home from work, Gabe was knocked out cold on the couch while the TV played some random telenovela on a random channel and beer bottles were strewn across the coffee table as usual, the ashtray was filled and an empty pack was beside it. She’ll have to clean it up later, but for now she has those blue candies her son likes so much.
“Percy?” she called out to her son, and headed to his bedroom that Gabe had started to turn into his workspace.
“Mom!” her boy’s voice came from the room and she smiled, her steps getting a bit faster. She walked into the room and Percy was sitting on his bed, smiling at her like he usually does, and Stiles smiled back at him even as she realized something odd.
Percy inherits so much of her face. Her nose, her jaw, and most prominently her smirk. But even though his eyes are the color of his father’s, the shape of his eyes were hers, eyes that showed mischief with a single twitch. She noticed how one side of his lips would twitch upwards more than the other and creating a copy of her own smirk, how his smirk would reach up into his eyes and would slightly squint when he’s thinking of a way to make Gabe mad enough but could be passed off as him being drunk.
She knows her son, how he smiles and the types of smiles. And the smile he gave was light, which wasn’t the odd part–he often gives light smiles when he’s tired.
It was his eyes. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, there was no trace of the shine that is usually there when he smiles.
“You feeling okay, puppy?” she asked, brushing his hair back and smiled at how he leans into her touch.
“Yeah just-uh, just a little tired, mom. Are those blue starbursts?” Her son shifted his attention to the small bag of blue candy in her hand, he was changing the subject, she noticed.
“Yep, don’t tell my boss though.” She winked, playing along for a little bit. She can’t be too pushy yet, getting him to drop his guard for even the slighted second was the key. And Stiles hates it that she was using the same tactic she would use with wolves.
Percy digs into the small bag full of different types of blue candy and takes out a blue starburst, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. She laid him down with his head on her lap, carding through them as she told him about her day and about the strange and odd customers that came into the shop. Her hands went down to his chest and she began patting her palms on his chest soothingly, he told her about the book that his teacher is making them all read over the summer and how his dyslexia is making it so difficult to get through the book. Then her hand went to his upper arm and she squeezed it lightly to comfort him, she heard a hiss come out of his mouth.
She felt him stiffen as she also abruptly went still.
She recognized that hiss, it was the same hiss she often makes after a run in with a big bad, it was the same hiss she makes when a field mission went south and someone or something managed to get a hit on her.
“Percy…” Stiles started, but Percy got up and tried to move away from her. Plastering on a smile, Percy rubbed the upper arm where she had touched him.
“I-uh, I fell earlier in the hallway.”
Stiles narrowed her brows, “Really? Did you fall really hard?” she held out her hand, “Then it’s probably bruised, then. Let me see how bad it is.”
Percy didn’t move, he didn’t move closer or farther away from her, he just sat there and she could see him starting to fidget in his place.
Normally her son would just go over to her when he’s hurt, he would tell her that he was hurt and Stiles would pull out the med kit and patch him up with bandaids with little sea creatures on them. He has always done that, so him actively not telling her about his injuries lit up a red flag in her head.
She didn’t want to believe it, but it made too much sense.
She told him, she told him if he dares to touch her son, if he dares pluck a single hair on her son’s head she would make him regret it. He laughed at her, but she didn’t laugh back.
Oh how she prays, she prays to every deity she knew and respected that it wasn’t true. Pray that it wasn’t true that Gabe Ugliano ignored her warnings, despite her taking the brunt of his violence so her son wouldn’t, and laid a hand on her child. But Stiles was not an idiot, and her alarm bells were never wrong.
“Percy,” Stiles said softly, so softly it was practically a rasp, and Percy flinched. “Please, show me the bruise.” she begged. “Please, baby…”
Percy was still for a few more moments, before slowly shuffling back towards her and lifted up his right sleeve. She felt tears prickle on the corners of her eyes. There it was, a big purple bruise on her son’s upper arm, and a bruise that was too big for something a child gets from a fall.
No, this was a bruise you get when someone hits you really hard. She’s gotten them many times in her teenage days, she’s gotten them when she was an active FBI field agent. And she hates it, she hates seeing it on her son more.
Because that means her suspicions were correct, that her warnings were ignored and her son got hurt.
“Percy, baby, listen to me.” Stiles grabbed her son’s hands. “If someone hurt you, if someone did this, I want you to tell me. No, I need you to tell me, and I will fix it.”
She cupped Percy’s face in her hands, she pressed her forehead against his. “Please, I promise I wouldn’t be mad at you, I could never be mad at you, but please tell me who did this?”
Percy began to tear up, and launched himself into her arms. Her arms tighten around him as he begins to shake, she lets him cry, she’ll wait. He pulled away enough for her to hear him say, “Gabe said that if I told you he would do much worse to you, he said if I told you he would punch my lights out.”
Stiles wants to throw up, she wants to scream and cry ‘WHY?!’ and throw herself onto the ground. But she just cried, and tightened her hold on her son, her darling son.
Gabe Ugliano ignored her warnings, he ignored her warnings and laid a hand on her son.
He dares lay a hand on her precious and perfect son.
He dares.
He could lay a hand on her all he wants, but he should never, ever, put a hand on her son.
No one lay a hand on her son under her watch and got away with it.
No one.
“I hate him,” Percy cried. “I hate him so much. I hate him for what he did to you, and I hate him for hitting me, but I hate him the most for hurting you and I can’t do anything about it!” he sobbed into her shirt, and Stiles buried her face into his raven black hair.
“I know, I do too.” Stiles carded her fingers through his hair, making sure her son was unaware of the storm raging in her heart. “I can fix this, I will fix this. I will fix it, I promise.”
And she meant it.
Gabe Ugliano struck her son.
She told him if he does, she will make him regret it.
And she’s fucking keeping her word.
She waited for Percy to go back to boarding school, she doesn’t want him to see this, he doesn’t need to know. She played the good housewife that day to a t, smiling at him, serving him and his poker party beer and snacks and all of the bean dip they could ever want. She cleans after them and even throws a compliment at one of them through her teeth.
Let him drop his guard, make him think she knew nothing of what he did.
It’s been a while since she has drawn runes, the last time was when she was dealing with a witch problem for a pack in Ireland. She knew that Gabe wouldn’t notice the displacement on the carpet where she had carved a rune to muffle the noise to the downstairs neighbor, nor the slightly wrinkled wallpaper where she had drawn the rune to muffle the sound to their next door neighbors, and he definitely won’t notice the rune she draw near the light bulbs to muffle the sound to the neighbors above them. Even if he does notice, Gabe is an idiot man, and he’s not smart or committed enough to look into the damn runes, he’d most likely think she’s gone insane.
Oh what a stupid man, a stupid man who did stupid shit and now he will reap the fucking consequences. Stiles will make sure of it.
After his poker party had left, Gabe was on the kitchen island and drinking another beer. Stiles slid over a glass of whiskey and a plate of her mother’s pierogies. She’ll indulge him, it’s his last meal, even though she knows her good food and the effort she made will always go unappreciated by him. She waited until he was on his last pierogi, the whiskey glass was empty, and the weight on the waistband of Stiles’ jeans grew heavier and colder against the skin of her lower back with every second she watched him eat.
“Percy told me something yesterday,” Stiles said, her tone calm, too calm.
Gabe grunted, “Did he finally tell you about his shitty grades? I’m telling you Sally, the kid’s a fucking hopeless idiot.” He shovelled the last pierogi into his glutton mouth. “I don’t know why you even try.”
She hummed even though she was fuming, she has to play this perfectly, she can’t mess this up. “He’s still my son, Gabe. I think all of us have flunked a class at some point” Gabe grunted and pushed his plate away.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
Stiles looked him dead in the eye, “Did you strike my son?”
Gabe looked at her, she continued to stare him down silently as he raised a greasy brow. “Right, I’m watching my show, I don’t have time for this shit.” He got off the stool and went to hobble away towards the living room, but Stiles followed. Her head was buzzing, she was becoming more aware of the gun on her waistband
“Don’t fuck with me, Gabe. I swear to the fucking Gods!” She shouted angrily, heaving as Gabe stopped where he was. “I will give one last fucking chance, Gabe Ugliano. I will not take any shit right now, so Gods help me!” Stiles pointed at him, her hands now visibly shaking with anger as she was actively holding herself back from decking him right then and there.
“I will give you one last fucking chance, Gabe. Did you or did you not strike my son?”
Gabe sighed and finally turned around, frustration on his face, and simply clicked his tongue. “So what? What if I did hit him? Little shit deserved it, he was acting out and I put him in his place.” Gabe tilted his head and laughed, like the aspect of her son being hurt was simply amusing to him. “In fact, the little shit deserves another one for telling you shit.” he shrugged his shoulders, “Told him what’ll happen if he tattles, little shit did it anyway.”
Stiles was fuming, her head feels hot and she stalked towards him in hot anger, “I fucking warned you, I fucking told you not to touch him, you fuck! You can rough me the fuck up all you want, but don’t you ever, ever touch him!” Stiles was glad she decided to carve those runes, her shouting would’ve alerted the neighbors and ruined her plan.
Gabe scoffed, and mockingly said “And what’re you gonna do, bitch? You aren’t shit without me, what can you do?” before shoving her face away roughly, his grabby greasy hands pushed against her cheek and knocked her back she stumbled. “Stupid bitch.”
Stiles watches as he turns back around to continue making his way towards the living room, and her right hand goes behind her and grabs the cold steel handle of the glock m9 pressed against the skin of her lower back. The weight felt familiar in her hand, it’s been a while since she handled her FBI issued gun, or any gun in that matter.
“Gabe.” she called out.
“What? What the fuck else do you want-” Gabe started his rant, before quickly shutting up from the muzzle of a gun being pointed to his forehead upon turning around. She saw him swallow and his eyes shift quickly from the gun to his forehead and to her, as if he was thinking of a way he could get himself out of this situation. As if Stiles would let him. She locked the door after his last poker friend left, and locked the windows while he was distracted with his last meal.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare, you bitch! You won’t have shit without me! You don’t have the fucking guts-” Gabe was cut off with his own screaming when Stiles lowered her gun from his forehead and down to his right knee, a burst of blood splashed on the hardwood floor as she pulled the trigger and blow Gabe’s right knee out.
He dropped to the floor and Stiles watched gleefully as he screamed and tried to stop the bleeding from his knee, before trying to crawl away from Stiles. Stiles walked slowly as she blew out his other knee, the floor now pooling with blood. Gabe crawled towards the kitchen and tried to grab a knife, but Stiles fired another bullet into his wrist and quickly disarmed him from his half-assed plan.
He leaned against the fridge, breathing heavily and sobs and cries coming out between his lips, getting blood all over the blue macaroni drawing she hung up with a wolf magnet she found at a flea market.
She was enjoying this, why was she enjoying this? Was she wrong for enjoying this? Was this how the Nogitsune felt when he killed those people using her body? When he taunted Noshiko Yukimura with her past and biggest regret?
That was different, wasn't it? Gabe deserved this, he struck her son, he would no doubt treat any other women like he had treated her. He no doubt would treat another woman’s child like he treated Percy, he is the fucking pest of society.
He doesn’t deserve to live.
She stepped forward and slammed her foot on his right knee, a bloodcurdling scream tore out of his throat as blood soaked her slipper, she shoved the muzzle into his mouth. Gabe cries and whines when the muzzle was wedged between his teeth, covering the muzzle in drool and snot as he sobbed her alias name in an attempt of asking for mercy. “Sally, Sally please. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want, you want money? I’ll give you all the shit in my safe! I promise!”
Stiles clicked her tongue and shoved the muzzle deeper into his mouth, “Shut the fuck up, you waste of air.” She brought her face closer to his sweaty and snotty face, “I warned you, touch my fucking kid and I fucking end you. You had so many chances, so many fucking chances, so fix your shit. But no, you’re just too much of an asshole fuck to be a decent fucking man.” Her free hand grabbed at his jaw and gripped it tight, she could feel his jawbone through his skin and double chin as she forcefully shoved his head to the side, the other side of his forehead hitting against the hard and cold surface of the fridge.
With how wounded he was, it was only obvious where the next bullet would end up, and that realization seemed to dawn on Gabe. So with a heavy and bated breath, he tried to soften his eyes and crease his brows into a sad and agonized look, giving the begging for mercy method one last try.
“Sally, Sally please. I know I messed up, I messed up real bad, but please don’t kill me!” He sucked in a desperate breath as he tried to grit out his words through the sharp pain from both of his bleeding knees. “I’ll do better! I’ll redeem myself, I’ll go to fucking rehab, I promise! I’ll even apologize on my knees to that boy! Just please, let me live!”
Stiles looked down at the pathetic image of a man bleeding out on her kitchen floor, the ones she mopped so vigorously after the same man had spilled one of his beers and left it for her to clean after coming back from a hard day of work. The way he begged was almost believable, almost like he meant it, and it almost makes Stiles want to stop. Almost. Unfortunately for him, Stiles played these games before, she played these games many times from when she was a reckless and wild high school girl running around with werewolves to when she was an FBI Agent running around with the secret supernatural division on the field. She could sniff out a serial killer from miles away when she was 16, and she could smell Gabe's bullshit through the metallic smell of blood that now soaked her slippers.
“That ‘boy’ has a name, Gabe. I’ve told you his name many times before, what’s his name?” She gripped his jaw once more, her cold eyes bore into his. “Tell me his full name, and maybe I’ll let you live.”
Gabe’s mouth immediately moved, “Percy! His name is Percy Jackson!” He looked so proud of himself, a victorious look took over his face for a few seconds, before disappearing when the cold look on Stiles’ face remained unchanging.
“I said his full name, Gabe. Percy is a nickname, and he has a middle name too, what are they?” Gabe starts to panic, his breath quickens and he knew this was the end. Stiles knew Gabe never gives a fuck about Percy, he inly sees him as a nuisance, so why would he bother to learn or even remember his full name? Fake or not, Stiles told Gabe Percy’s alias name many times, he had seen his name many times on school forms and permission slips, she knew he never bothered to learn his name beyond what she calls him. Stiles knew he would fail, she knows just the kind of person he was, she’s always known actually, which just adds to her guilt that she lets someone like him near her baby boy.
Gabe knows he was doomed too, and Stiles watched as his puny attempt at a sad face that was begging for mercy switched to an angry and scared face of someone who knows they have nothing else to lose. “You bitch! You and your bastard deserve the shit I did, especially that little shit! I made him into a man! You’ve raised him so fucking puny that I have to rough him up to make him grow the fuck up! I swear I will fuck him up when I see him in hell-” another bang rang out through the apartment, the noise contained within the apartment as one final bullet tore through the large man’s forehead and through his skull, permanently silencing Gabe Ugliano forever.
“Get my son out of your damn mouth, you don’t even deserve to acknowledge him anymore.” Stiles Stilinski, using the alias of Sally Jackson, spoke quietly to the corpse of her dead abusive husband on the kitchen floor.
It was more than intended, but whatever.
Stiles stood there for a little while, staring at the dead body of Gabe Ugliano, eyes open with a bleeding bullet hole in between his eyes, and two blown out knees. She doesn’t know how to feel, truthfully. Should she feel bad for killing a man? Should she feel relieved that the man she killed also falls into the list of the most disgusting and evil people she has ever met? She doesn’t know if she was supposed to feel anything about Gabe Ugliano’s death, she just felt numb at that moment.
Gabe’s body was getting colder by the second, and the blood would soon seep and stain the hardwood floor. She needs to act. Now.
She sighed and turned the safety on her gun on, and slipped it back into her waistband. She went over to one of the drawers and pulled out a box of trash bags and tossed it on the island, and then opened the cabinet under the sink to get the cleaning bleach and a rag. She kicks off her slippers and tossed them into a trash bag, before taking off her brick red henley shirt that has darkened from blood and tossed it into the bag, she took off her jeans and memorized the brand and sizing so she could replace it before tossing it into the bag and tying it off tightly. In her underwear, she grabbed the rags and put them on the areas where the blood had pooled and let them soak up most of it, scooping them up and putting them into a new trashbag and continuing and repeating the process with paper towels until there were no visible droplets.
She took the tarp cover for Gabe’s car from his “workshop” and laid out the tarp on the floor next to Gabe’s body, and she went on to try to move Gabe’s body on top of the tarp, only to grunt at how heavy the body was. She tries again, putting her entire back in it and pulling at his legs to no avail, she cursed. She still needed to clean the traces of blood off, there was still blood under Gabe’s body, but she couldn’t clean properly if she didn't move the body.
If only Gabe had gone through that stupid diet routine he saw in one of his stupid magazines then maybe she’ll have an easier time cleaning up his fucking remains, but like everything he does, Gabe seem to continue making her life difficult.
She ended up on the couch, tears pricking in the corner of her eyes from frustration, her leg bouncing anxiously. She couldn’t go to jail, she couldn’t, after all of her hard work she couldn’t let her son grow up without a mother just like she had. She would never let that happen, she wouldn’t, she made a promise to herself.
She could ask for help from the pack in New Jersey, but there was no guarantee that one of them wouldn’t spill her secret, no matter how much she helped them. There will always be a risk of one of their pack members rebelling and tattling her to the cops while she doesn’t have enough material to blackmail them into silence, besides, she doesn’t trust them to do a clean job. She could ask her fake ID provider for help, but she doesn’t know if the people he’ll send are trustworthy either.
She was stuck, she needs someone reliable. Someone who could take care of the corpse for her and help her clean up, but also trustworthy enough to know that they won’t spill her biggest secret even with a knife to their throat. She could call Lydia, but Stiles was not prepared to face her after going no contact for years after marrying Gabe. And there was no way she was calling Scott or her dad about this, Scott would panic and her dad already has enough on his plate.
Then, like a moment of clarity, a lightbulb flicked on in her head. There was someone she could call, someone with just as much–if not more–connections than her, someone who knows how to clean up a scene and get rid of the traces when they have a sane mind, it was his job for years. The issue was she doesn’t know where he is right now, how far he was and how quickly he could get to her, or even if he is willing to do the job for her.
But she had to try, if not for free then she’ll do it in exchange for her own services. After all, this person knows full well of what she could do, and what she could find and forge with the right info. She just hopes he still has the same number.
She went over to her bedroom and towards the closet, she opened the secret built-in compartment that was covered by her winter coat and dug through a pile of burner phones. She dug out an old Moto X phone that she had abandoned long after graduation, popped open the back with a screwdriver and took out the SIM card. She retrieved an empty burner phone and slips the SIM card from the Moto X into the burner phone, she smiles victoriously as the list of contacts appeared on the small screen on the burner. She lingers on one number for way too long, before scrolling past the ‘D’ contact list and scrolling down all the way to the ‘P’, her thumb hovered over the green call button for a little bit, her mind going through all the possibilities that the man on the other side doesn’t answer. But by now she doesn’t have any other choice, it was a risk, but she already took a lot of risks in her lifetime.
What’s one more?
She pressed the contact name for Peter Hale and began praying that the man pick up, her heart racing against her chest as her mind runs like a nascar engine, the ringing tone running through the uncomfortably silent apartment as her hope diminishes with every unanswered ring. What if Peter did change his number? What if she was calling some rando instead because Peter changed his number when she needed the bastard most? What if, what if, what if…
Click.
The ringing stopped, the call connected, Stiles waited with bated breath for the familiarly sarcastic voice she had associated with the name to speak, or for a random person to pick up and she’ll have to apologize for calling the wrong number while a dead body was decaying on her kitchen floor–
“Who is this?” The voice answered, and Stiles gasped for air so hard it sounded more like a sob as relief flooded her nerves.
“Hello? Whoever you are, if you’re messing with me I will trace-”
“Peter,” Stiles spoke, and the voice on the other side went silent for what felt like hours but couldn’t be more than mere seconds.
“Stiles?”
And with too much ease, she slips into the familiar sarcastic tone she was known for, like her old self has been restored. “Hello Peter, you son of a bitch. Where are you right now?”
It was either pure luck or coincidence that Peter was in New Jersey for business with the local pack there, but even if he weren’t, Stiles was willing to force him to get on a flight and wait for him. Peter was willing to help her, of course with a price. But the price was easy for her to do, something familiar for her to do, something she misses doing.
So, with a cleaner body and clothes and still a dead body going through the stages of post mortem in her kitchen, she sat on the couch with her laptop opened and gathering as much info for a hunter family that is hiding out on the corners of Germany. She utilizes every connection she has to gather a file so detailed on each and every member of the Jäger family, from their ancestors to what high school their youngest son goes to. She felt herself getting engrossed in her work, doing something so familiar and rewarding that she almost forgets the very reason she was doing this background research for.
She was reminded of it once more when she heard a series of knocks on her door.
She saves the last bit of the file into a flash drive and pockets it, before moving over to her door and peeking into the peep hole and opening it. There, clear as day, Peter Hale stood on her doorway looking exactly as cocky as she remembered him to be. Clad in a wine red button up and black jacket, he gave Stiles his toothy smirk that Stiles remembered always being annoyed by, flashing his teeth in the process. “Well hello, sweetheart.”
“Hello Peter.” Stiles quirked her head in acknowledgement, Peter frowned when he finally got a good look on her.
“You look like you’ve had a rough few years. Felt the hum of magic runes from here.”
Stiles chuckled with no humor, “You have no idea.”
Stiles led him to the kitchen, she could hear him walking slower behind her, most definitely taking note of her living space and the picture frames that Gabe hadn’t taken down and trying to piece together her story. Finally, she stopped in front of the body leaning against the fridge, her pathetic attempt of moving him seen on the car cover still next to him, at least most of the blood had been wiped away. Peter walked up next to her, looking at the body with a raised brow before letting out a non committed “huh.”
Peter bent down to get a closer look at the dead man, “You know,” he started, turning to the side to inspect the damage she had dealt. “I’ve always thought that this would happen sooner or later, just not years later.”
He got up and turned to Stiles, “And I would never have thought you would willingly ask me for help, darling.” He made his way around her and to the kitchen island, inspecting more proof of her life after Beacon Hills.
“And I never would unless I’m out of options,” she sighed, turning around to look at him. “Which, I am now.”
Peter holds up a picture of her and a young Percy, it was during one of their trips to Montauk, but that one was for Percy’s birthday.
“Yours?”
Stiles smiled with thinned lips, “Mine.” Peter looked back at the body, Stiles scoffed and shook her head. “Not his, I’d rather die.” Peter hummed, putting the picture frame down where it was.
Peter leaned against the island and gave her a questioning look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then why did you marry him, Stiles? You’re smarter than that.”
Stiles closed her eyes tightly for a few seconds, before turning to look at the picture that Peter had picked up. “To protect him.” She wanted to laugh at how Peter looked more confused than before, but Peter was smart, she knew it wouldn’t take long for Peter to ask the real questions.
“The kid?”
“Boarding school, he doesn’t need to know.”
And she was proven right when he finally asked, “Who was the kid’s father?” Stiles sighed, and felt like she needed an extra large cup of wine or a shot of straight moonshine. “Someone important, powerful.” She motions to Gabe, “He hides his scent.”
She doesn’t tell him directly, she gives him clues, he should figure it out by himself. They were wasting time, she knew that, but it has been so long since she talked with an old friend even if it’s Peter, it’s been too long since she talked to any Hale at all. She wanted to savor it longer, but she could do that once her apartment is clean.
She dug into her pocket and held up the flash drive, Peter’s eyes lit up like a child opening a present on Christmas. “Everything I could find, as far as I could go.” Peter went to retrieve it, and Stiles pulled her hand back. “Me first, Zombiewolf.”
The nickname eased so quickly she suddenly felt like she was 15 again, and Peter’s smirk and huffed at her actions. “Right, of course.”
He pulled out some rubber gloves from his pocket, snapping them on with a toothy grin.
“Let’s get started, shall we?
It took almost two hours to wrap up Gabe’s body and clean up any traces of blood, putting Peter’s keen werewolf sense of smell to good use to sniff out stray blood droplets before cleaning the floor thoroughly with hydrogen peroxide. She made sure that the security cameras in the hallways and anywhere they may be spotted were down, befriending the security guard with her pierogies a long time ago has its perks as she easily got access to the system of the cameras.
She took to the feet and Peter to the head as they moved the wrapped up body down the emergency fire escape and down to the parking lot, and shoving Gabe into the trunk of his own trunk. They both went back up to the apartment and gathered the trashbags and cleaning supplies that were used to clean up and tossed them into the backseat to be disposed of.
Stiles drove behind Peter’s car as he led her to bumfuck nowhere in upstate New York, she didn't need to know how Peter knew of an abandoned barn on the upstate of New York, he was helping her and that was enough. She parked the car in what seemed like a garbage dump area and got out of the car, Peter got out of his and they both opened the trunk to his car and took out three gallons of gasoline. To ensure nothing was spared, every single inch of Gabe’s car was doused with large splashes of gasoline, the sharp smell irritating Stiles’ nose as she heaves up the 5.3 gallon jug and pours water over the open trunk of the car, right on top of the wrapped body and making sure it was soaked. And with the last jug empty, Stiles finally tossed the keys into the car, and moved away a few feet. Peter gave her the honor of lighting the match, and with a last look at the wrapped up corpse in the open trunk of the car, she threw the match at the gasoline covered car.
The car lit up in an instant, and Stiles watched as every piece of Gabe and the evidence of her crime was lit ablaze. Standing there next to Peter, leaning against his car and watching the remains of the past few years go into flames, Stiles could only feel fulfilled. Like she was burdened with a nearly impossible task, and now she had finally finished it.
With the hard part done, Stiles finally got a hold of the pack on New Jersey to take away all of Gabe’s stuff, all of which would be easily excusable. She and Peter called in their own trusted contacts to make Gabe Ugliano a mere whisper, getting rid of any proof of his existence from any databases possible, from hospital certificates to credit card history and bank accounts.
In the end, Gabe Ugliano never existed. He wasn’t important enough for anybody, even his poker friends forgot about him, and Gabe Ugliano became a mere ghost.
Glasses clink as she and Peter took a sip of the newly bought red wine, sitting around the kitchen island in silence. It was a celebratory drink, a job well done for both of them after days of work, most of which were spent cleaning the traces of a dead man’s existence. She got the old decor out of storage and placed them where they belong, altering her apartment back to the apartment she loved and raised her son happily in all those years ago.
“He misses you, you know.” Peter spoke, putting down his wine glass with a clink. “He never says it, but Cora and I could smell it on him.”
Stiles stayed silent for a bit, before confessing “Do you know why I moved to Montauk in the first place, Peter? Or to New York in general?”
Peter knows, she knows he does, but he was waiting for her to say it.
“Because I had hoped, at any point of my life, that I would run into him. Even if it was just one time, at least I’d get a glimpse of him.” she chugs the rest of her wine. “But in all my years of living here, I have never once got even a single glimpse of him. Over time, I had accepted that maybe that was how it was supposed to be.” She didn’t want to cry, not in front of Peter. For years, she had gotten herself to accept that maybe she was holding on too tightly, it was now that her biggest burden had been lifted from her that she realized that she hadn’t let go at all.
But now, it is easier. It was easier to remember Derek Hale, easier to miss him, when it had been so choking to do so before.
“And maybe, someday, I’ll see him again. And maybe I’ll introduce Percy to him.” Stiles gave Peter a genuine smile, before pouring herself another glass.
A comfortable silence settled between them, and it was fine, she was fine.
“He’ll probably like that.” was all Peter said, and Stiles was keen to agree.
Letting her family and friends back into her life was both easy and challenging, it was easy to let them into her heart again, it was challenging proving to them that she won’t leave again. Scott and her dad were consistent with their calls ever since she reconnected with them, asking her questions over and over again until she got it in their head that she was doing much much better.
Lydia Martin was furious with her, but she had stayed silent as Stiles told her everything she wanted to know. And in the end, Lydia Martin slept over at her apartment for a full week, making sure Stiles got her life together, while also simultaneously helping her look for another way to protect her son. In the end, both of them decided to try and utilize her mother’s relation to the goddess Hecate, and try combining the aspects of her Spark and some of the traditions of the worshippers of Hecate and come up with a way to hide her son.
They came up with a way to use Stiles’ own Spark, and convert them into some sort of shield for Percy that should be able to hide his scent. The issue was the shield was only sustainable if Stiles kept feeding the shield magic of her Spark, constantly tiring her. Stiles was okay with that, sacrifices are necessary for a mother, she’ll just get more tired.
Her supervisor welcomed her back into the FBI with open arms, no one can do a job better than she did. She arranged so that her field missions are only so few in a month, and she will spend the rest of her work days from her apartment doing research as she should.
When the holidays rolled around, Stiles welcomed Percy with a big smile and a huge tray of blue chocolate chip cookies. It was hard to teach him to properly settle into his real birth name, but Stiles kept her promise to him, so he would continue to try and live with his real name.
Percy tossed his backpack on the floor when she told him that Gabe Ugliano will never be an issue in their lives ever again, her own arms tightened around his torso as she nuzzled into his hair.
“You kept it,” Percy whispered into her neck. “You kept your promise.”
Stiles kissed his temple tenderly, “Of course. For you, I always will.”
Percy pulled away from her slightly and kissed her on the cheek, “Love you, mommy.”
Stiles chuckled and gave her son a grin, which he returned with an identical one. “Love you too, jeżowiec (sea urchin)”
Stiles felt complete. She has her son safely in her arms, a way to protect him, and a job that she loves back to her. Her dad and Scott promised to visit that holiday, she’ll have her family back as well.
She couldn’t ask for anything more. Gone was Sally Jackson and Perseus Jackson, and Stiles and Percy Stilinski were welcomed back into the world with a new hope for the future.
Stiles pinned another photo up on her cork board, looping a red string around the pin and stepping back to see the bigger picture. Percy was out with his aunt Lydia to go shopping, and Scott had left early so he could continue his residency, and her dad was out getting take out after begging her many many times for some Panda Express orange chicken.
She had checked the shield around Percy before letting him leave, making sure the shield was working properly.
A new case popped up right around the holidays, a couple break ins in the West area of Virginia and bodies found wrapped in Christmas lights and coal shoved into their mouths. The probable motive was that the killer was envious of the happiness of people during the holiday, so he pulled a Krampus and wanted to take the joy out of Christmas.
Stiles is positive that it was just a human who has major family issues, there was no trace of anything that would imply that it’s anything supernatural. DNA is being processed at the bureau, and Stiles is tracking the kills patterns to see if she could get anything on the killer.
She was about to sit back down at her desk and open laptop when a knock was heard at the door, she frowned. Her dad and Lydia both had the keys to her apartment, she had given it to them when she reconnected, they would’ve just walked in.
Whoever was at the door was not her dad or Lydia.
Stiles grabbed her taser from her utility belt and carefully made her way to the door, another series of knocks was heard coming from outside her door.
She looked through the peephole, and her heart stopped. She felt her stomach drop out of her ass, and her heart started to race against her chest; she nearly dropped her taser.
She put away her taser, and she has never opened a door so fast in her entire life.
On the other side of her door, with his stupidly handsome face, stupidly flattering green eyes, and stupidly adorable bunny teeth grinning at her.
“Hey Stiles.”
Stiles chuckled wetly, and breathed in a sob.
“Hi Derek.”