Thanks to those who have decided to join the ride. Yes, it's Stiles-centric, because honestly he is just one of my favourite characters.
As Stiles shuffled into school he continued to muse on his lack of success at offering himself up to Death. He was aware of all the bodies as they pressed their way into the building, everyone set on their on goals, unaware, unconcerned that he had laid himself out as a prime suckling pig for Death to have its wicked feast on.
He watched as all the bodies continued on their paths, his eyes flickering to the side as he suddenly realised that what had been the odd, but vaguely comforting, or at least directing presence of Boyd had been seamlessly replaced by the much more unwelcome figure of Isaac, whose eyes were skittering around, while the hostile sneer turned his lip in an unpleasant fashion.
Stiles speed up, trying to subtlety place some distance between himself and the person who had to all intents and purposes tried to maim him not too many nights ago. Ducking into the nearest bathroom with the intention of trying to make himself a little cleaner, Stiles winced as he heard the door crash between him. He really didn't think Death was Isaac-shaped, Isaac was much more of an annoying minion and Stiles was really only in the mood to deal with Death straight on, no more pussy-footing around with people or wolves who just wanted to damage him a little.
Isaac began to stalk towards Stiles, enjoying it far too much when Stiles stumbled slightly as he tried to step backwards, puffing his chest and flicking his head in what was, in Stiles' humble opinion, a piss-poor attempt to look like Derek. Stiles let out a huff of annoyance, a sarcastic comment about wannabees forming itself of his lips as he watched Isaac's eyes go wide and a look of panic flash across his face.
Stiles twisted his head to see what had caught his eye, turning himself fully around as he watched Jackson emerge from the stall, tissues in hand, trying to clean something of his face. Stiles could hear Isaac's breathing increase, he could almost feel the arrogance vanishing and being replaced by a genuine fear. Stiles paused, continuing to regard Jackson, taking in the lack of scales, lack of tail, lack of anything generally lizard like apart from the trail of dark liquid that appeared to be coming from his ear.
"S'up?" he said nonchalantly, as if seeing the guy dressed up in his freak show alter ego had been an entirely normal experience in Stiles' life. Which, given the way things have been going recently wasn't actually too far from the truth. Jackson glared at him, but Stiles just shrugged, on the scale of things it was a fairly normal, I am the king of all things wonderful and you are the most pathetic individual to ever try to share my airspace glare, lacking in all things evil and lizardlike.
Stiles wandered to the next basin, choosing to completely ignore wannabee-badass who appeared to be trying to decide between fleeing for the safety of his badass twin bitch and becoming one with the tiled wall behind him. What was Derek thinking? Stiles wondered to himself, this one definitely wasn't cut out for much in the way of wolfness.
Turning on the tap, he pooled the water in his hands and tried to rub the sleep and other gunk from his face, He noticed Jackson's frantic actions next to him trying clean himself up. Grabbing some of the tissue and wetting it slightly he reached over and dabbed at a streak of black that had alluded Jackson's rubbing. Jackson swung abruptly, knocking his hand away and glaring harder.
"Did I say you could touch me?" he hissed angrily, Stiles almost smirked at the hiss, before catching himself, wolves growl, Jackson hisses, it figures. Stiles didn't recoil either, which sort of surprised him. Another shrug "Hey, there are about 6 or 7 people in the school who don't find the supernatural black freakiness that is running down your neck weird, 3 are in this room, get over it, do you want anyone else to figure it out?" Jackson glared some more before grabbing the wet tissue from his outstretched hand and wiping his neck again. He added another glare for good measure, in case any one in the room hadn't realised that they were supposed to be bowled over by the sheer awesomeness that was Jackson before grabbing his bag and making to leave.
Stiles couldn't help but look at him, trying to work out where the lizard, the Kanima fitted into all of this, and also trying to work out to a degree where the hell Jackson kept that tail when it wasn't needed. The few bits of info that had come from Allison's attempt to get the counsellor to translate creepy grandpa hunter files said that the Kanima was looking for a friend. Stiles found himself wondering if being the biggest antisocial a-hole in the world was a Kanima prerequisite, why Derek wasn't sporting a lizard tail of his own? Stiles stepped ever so slightly over, not touching him, just enough to make him slow his step, his voice quieter, no threat, definitely no threat here. "That's at least a couple of people who won't freak out if you ever need anything you know".
"Could you be more gay?" the shove to his shoulder had Stiles stumbling back against Isaac as Jackson pushed past and out of the door. Stiles pulled himself up straighter and up off Isaac, turning towards the door himself. He looked back over his shoulder in despair at the boy.
"Seriously? And to think for a moment at the police station, I was actually afraid of you". Stiles shook his head and pushed out into the corridor and into the stream of bodies randomly wondering where the hell he was actually supposed to be right now.
Two classes later, Stiles had realised that he was to all intents and purposes completely invisible. Not literally invisible, he hadn't ingested any magic fairy dust or anything, but the world was completely oblivious to his existence. Nobody noticed that he had no books, teachers were seemingly unconcerned about his lack of even basic pen and paper, perhaps he wondered, they were grateful that he was a little less 'participatory' than normal.
English found him beginning to feel the effects of his night time walk, as the class took it in turns to read out lumps of Shakespeare in bored, indifferent tones, Stiles could feel his consciousness shutting down and the grip of lucidity slipping away. Resting his head on his arms, he let the droning voice of one of his fellow students give way to the steady beep beep inside his head. Once again his dream memory was off, still in the hospital, still the sound of the machine, but instead of his mom's frail figure he was confronted by remnants of another dream, another memory that should take place in his jeep, a memory that always made him feel sick and panicked. But oddly enough, the fact that everything was happening in the wrong places, in the wrong order was now more comforting to him than disturbing. Derek lay on the bed instead, the sleeve of his dark top pulled up exposing the oozing wound and the black threaded veins. This was from the dream where he shouts, where he's angry and scared and completely overwhelmed.
"Are you dying?" but again its wrong, he's not shouting, his voice is so exhausted, so completely fatigued, so choked. He looks down at himself, but he is gripping the bed of the bed, not pointing and waving his arms around like he should be, soaking wet, the water is running down his arms and making pools on the sheets, he can hear the water steadily dripping onto the floor.
So tired, he been fighting to save them for so long he can hardly stand, he can hardly bring his eyes back up to look at Derek, face grey and ashen, so resigned as he's nodding to the saw that has appeared on the bed between them, looking at Stiles to fix it. Stiles barely hears the mumble, he already knows it too well "Not yet". It sounds as if there is no time, no choice, but Stiles knows different, he knows there is time.
"There should always be time!" He pauses, now very aware that he all of the eyes in the class have turned to him as he's heaved himself out of the dream and back with a rather embarrassing announcement into the real world.
"Do you have a point to make?" The teacher levels him with a steady glare, Stiles looks at her confused, who the hell is she? Is this even his class? His eyes rake across the board and he notes her name and the fact that she's a substitute with a sense of relief. His eyes continue to roam over the scratchings on the board. He can feel his brain collecting the information churning it over as something bizarre starts to occur to him.
"He doesn't take time" he begins and then swallows deeply trying to clear the crackle of sleep from his throat. He sits straighter. "He just rushes in and acts on what he finds in front of him. If he'd looked around, paused, waited even just a moment, there's a chance she would have woken up, things would have been fixed, but no he's running in and going crazy and all he thinks is action, she's dead, I must kill myself, what is the guy thinking? Why didn't he just stop for a moment and wait?"
Stiles is on a roll now, he pushes back the chair. "But think about it really, we read this like they are adults, like we expect them to be making sensible decisions, we look at the characters like they are older and wiser than us and so we add a meaning, star-crossed lovers and all that jazz. But it's not that at all, this guy has no role model, his whole family are caught up in some massive war and everyone largely just lets him get on with partying and chasing girls and his father isn't there to teach him anything because he's all up in this war, and the only guy he's got to look up to is actually a pretty big nut job who just gets off on fighting and terrorising. He hasn't got a clue what it is to be an adult, he's just a kid playing in an adults game, and when she gets caught up in it, it's the end of her too, because he's got no one to tell him that he needs to slow down, he needs to stop acting in the moment and wait for a second to see if there is another option. He's got no one to tell him that cutting his arm off is the stupidest idea in the world".
Stiles pauses again, remembering a little too late that nobody cuts their arm off in this story and sits down suddenly. Scott scoots over towards him and Stiles flinches, he hadn't even realised he was here. He's horrified that Scott will put all of that together and realise where his brain just went, he'll figure out that he's just worked out that Derek has no clue what he's doing and then all hell is going to break loose. He'll identify the Alpha weakness and automatically his wolf will seek to exploit it for dominance. There will be a war and more people will get hurt and Scott will gain too much power and become an unstoppable Alpha from hell and….
"Dude, are you wearing your pyjamas?" Scott looks at him in great confusion.
Stiles facepalms in disbelief. Death is a moron.