Okay hi so I suck and I'm the worst and I have absolutely no idea what happened these past two months? I was totally cool around Thanksgiving like, "Oh hell yeah I'll update today sure why not I should be finished with this fic before New Years at the way I'm going" and then I got a plot bunny for a allyderica fic? and was encouraged to write that by some very persuasive ladies and then I hit a road block with that and then wow I was dragged through the trenches of allydia hardcore and am now working on an allydia au on the side and I just suck I am the worst I am so so so so so sorry guys ugh but wow A++ on you all for keeping going and asking me if i'll update and commenting that if I have a soul i'd update I really appreciate all the little nudges and shoves to get me to update this you're all magical little fairies who aren't evil and I appreciate every single one of you 3
now i'm going to do a recap so you don't have to go back and read a few chapters (bc who likes reading right not any of us ew) BUT JUST SO YOU ALL REMEMBER: THIS CHAPTER AND CHAPTERS 13:12+ TAKE PLACE ALL ON THE SAME DAY SO YEAH i'm horrible at time management did you know that?
To read the recap go to my tumblr and /tagged/nasbab and it's the first post!
There's a panic attack in this chapter.
Stiles' hands shake, blurring and crumpling the impossible picture in his hands. A cold sweat breaks out along his hairline, prickling between his shoulder blades. His throat tightens, and he isn't sure if there's a laugh or a sob building, tightening almost painfully, in his chest.
His life is a horribly timed joke.
He can't stop looking at his pradziadek's face, at the nose they share, at the way his hand rest ever so sweetly around Kate Argent's waist.
"Your pradziadek is the special case," He can hear his mother's voice faintly in his mind, "He actually fell in love with one, did you know? Almost proposed to it, too."
Stiles' heart clenches painfully in his chest, stomach tightening. Why didn't he see it? Why was he so blind?
Melanie is watching him like she isn't sure if he's having a psychotic breakdown or not. He thinks her hand is too close to her pocket for comfort, though, and tries to pull himself together. It's especially hard after the day he's had.
He just wants to give all of this information to Deaton or Talia and sleep for five hundred years. He doesn't want to deal with this anymore, but his hand is shaking and the picture still exist and he feels like he can't breathe. This is all too real now, it's all brimming over the edge and he can't hold it together.
Stiles knows it is, but he has to ask anyway. His voice is hollow when he asks her, "Are you sure this is real?"
He isn't even sure if he's asking about the picture anymore, but Melanie just raises an eyebrow, "I think, by the look on your face, you already know for sure."
There are sirens in the distance. Stiles vaguely wonders if Laura or Derek will be concerned for him. Part of him, the part that can't feel his legs, thinks someone should at this point.
Melanie looks to the mouth of the alley and back to Gerard, sighing, "Some nosy neighbor seems to have reported a crime. Get out of here, boy. Stop my daughter from whatever she and my idiot husband were planning."
The sirens get closer, the noise ricocheting off the empty streets like drums. Stiles has a second of intense fear at the thought of seeing his dad, of being caught here by the person who looked in his eyes and didn't recognize him, and he runs, the picture still crumbled tight in his grip.
He doesn't turn around to see the look of pity Melanie gives him, but he feels it all the same.
The picture practically burns his hand like a brand, and he turns it over as he runs, looking at it, hating its very existence.
His mom said that if someone made a deal with a timekeep, that the timekeep would use their body to go throughout the timeline. The timekeep that sent him back made a bad deal that messed with the timeline that messed things up badly enough that the timekeep had tried to kill his entire pack to get rid of the evidence.
Is this just a coincidence? Is the timekeep that sent him back and the timekeep that made a deal with Kate Argent the same?
There's a tightening in his gut. Everything is too close to be a coincidence. Kate would never make a deal for anything good, so of course she's the reason he's back here.
Why do all of his problems seem to go back to her?
He remembers the calender on Deaton's wall. The two red circles; his own little countdown for the new moon and the full moon. Stiles could wait. He could bide his time, stalk Argent. He could take her down with the word of the law, be the sheriff's son he always has been.
Or, he could kill her.
He could kill her tonight and end all of this.
Stiles tingles at the thought. He wants to slit her throat, wants her blood on his hands right now. Nothing sounds sweeter or simpler. He imagines claws growing where his nails are, imagines them shiny and sharp and deadly, imagines them ripping into the fragile skin of Kate's throat and looking into her eyes as she stops breathing.
All the pain she's caused? All the death and destruction? It would be gone. It would all just disappear. Allison would never know the aunt she held in such high regard was actually a psychopath. Derek would never have to know the pain of losing his family, his pack. He'd stop falling into bed with the enemy. He'd stop blaming himself for everything wrong in the world. The entire Hale clan would live to see another day. Peter wouldn't have the excuse to be the town wackjob and murder everyone involved with the fire. Jackson and Lydia would be safe in their perfect bubble.
Scott would be happy. He'd be happy and normal and nobody again.
Stiles imagines any version of him would be better then the one he is now.
It's that thought that sends a shock to his system, heart thumping maddeningly in his chest. His lungs are on fire, chest constricting painfully as his breathing falters. His head feels three sizes too big for his body, and he stumbles into a wall.
No. No, he can't be having a panic attack right now.
But he is.
His hands scrabble along the stone and mortar, fighting feebly for something to hold onto to anchor him to the Earth, but his hands slide uselessly like butter and he falls, crashing to the floor like he was dropped from the sky. His head cracks against the concrete, but he hardly feels it over the stalemate in his chest, his lungs locking up and his throat stubbornly sealed like a vault.
He can't breathe.
He's underwater, but he's not even fighting to the surface. It's like he's trapped in seaweed, just watching as waves crash against the shore over his head. It's peaceful down here. Peaceful and empty. Sun shines bright in his eyes overhead, drowned out from the murky water.
Stiles isn't sure if he should open his mouth and let the salt water burn his throat or not.
He could stay underwater forever. He could let the seaweed hold him captive, could let his eyes slip shut and listen to the waves crash. He could let the tide hit the beach while he just lays here and lets the water take over him.
It's what he's going to do, until he hears it.
"Stiles, wake up!"
"Derek, he's not breathing!"
Derek. A thousand thoughts fly through his head at that one name. The waves are harsher on the surface, but something posses him to pull, to tugs on the seaweed viciously until it snaps and lets him go. He fights to the top, kicking and thrashing.
His lungs open, the vault on unlocks, and Stiles breathes.
Everything slides into awareness slowly. There are hands on his face, slapping his cheeks lightly. There's another on his throat, checking his pulse. He can hear muted voices warbling in tones that hurt his ears, and he groans.
His heart is still going too fast, but the hand pulls away.
"Oh my god!" A voice says, "Stiles! Stiles, open your eyes, okay?"
He does, feeling like someone is pounding nails behind his eyelids.
Laura's in front of him, eyes pinched in worry. She's straddling his lap, holding his head against the wall. There are two more bodies, but Laura takes up his field of vision.
Stiles feels like he should be coughing up sea water. His lungs burn, like he's holding it in, like his chest is a cup of salt water, but Beacon Hills is forty minutes from the beach.
Laura pulls back just as Stiles swallows something sliding up his throat. No. Not vomiting. Not again.
"I-" He tries to start, but his throat feels rough and he coughs. His chest moves like he can't catch a breath, and he wonders if his panic attack is really over or not.
"Shh," Laura demands, and someone hands her a white gauze pad and a packet of something. She squeezes it on and gently taps it at his forehead. Stiles hisses at the burn, but she just makes a face at him. "Don't be a baby."
"Says the supernaturally healing werewolf," He manages to say, but it comes out in a feeble whisper.
Laura's lips crack in a smile and she laughs, but it comes out more like a choke than anything. Stiles thinks her brown eyes are wet with tears, but he can't be sure. The streetlamp doesn't offer much light.
She pulls her arm back and he sees blood on the pad. He faintly remembers hitting his head on something but fights the urge to touch it. Laura looks like she'd bite his arm off if he tried.
"He doing okay?" Someone asks.
Stiles peaks over Laura's shoulder to see Brad and Derek huddled close behind Laura. Brad's looking at him like he's going to spontaneously die, but Derek looks... distracted.
He's looking down at his hand, and Stiles feels sick but he can't even gather the energy to work himself up into a panic attack again.
"It's not what you think," Stiles says, but it sounds weak.
Laura raises an eyebrow at him and follows where he's looking. She moves just enough so that he can see the picture in Derek's hand, the one he was holding when he fell, the one that has Kate Argent's body and his great grandfather standing side by side.
A selfish part of him, the part that Stiles actively hates, thinks of this as a good thing. That Derek will know to stay away from Kate, that Laura will tell Talia, that the alpha will deal with everything. But Stiles' life doesn't work that way, nothing ever gets wrapped up nice and neat in a little bow, so he struggles forward, needing to get the picture away from Derek now.
Derek's head is shaking back and forth, "I..."
"It's not what you think," Stiles tries again. His head is pounding.
Laura slides off of him and rest next to him, looking between Stiles and Derek with a look he can't decipher. Her face is pinched, and she quickly pulls the picture from Derek's slack hands.
Her eyes squint as she stares at the picture, but it's meaningless to her. She hasn't met Kate Argent. She doesn't know who the man next to her is. Stiles grabs the picture from her and folds it, wanting to rip it and toss it down the storm drain, but it's his only reminder that this is real, his only proof that this is still horribly wrong.
Derek's eyes flash blue and Brad falls back to the floor just as Derek lets out a rumbling growl. He squawks and Laura jumps to help him, but Brad pulls away from her, eyes widening in distress.
"Derek," Stiles tries, eyes focused on the raging man in front of him, "Derek, no, stop, alright? Let me explain!"
Derek just growls again, narrowing his angry blue eyes into slits at Stiles.
"Stop lying!" He growls, voice distorted. Stiles sees his hands form fist, sees a jagged claw creeping out. "Since you got here, all anyone has done is lie to me!"
Laura flinches back at the hurt and betrayal in her brother's voice, and Stiles is struck again, wondering just what the Hales told Derek, if they told him everything or just the minimum. Derek wasn't there when Stiles plopped into existence. He was at swim practice, and after? Stiles avoided being around Derek like the plague.
Stiles looks between Laura and Derek, wondering just how much Derek knew before tonight.
Laura shakes her head, "Derek, that's not true-"
"I can hear your heartbeat, Laura," Derek snaps.
Laura opens her mouth to reply but Stiles cuts her off, demanding, "Then listen to mine, Derek," He takes a deep breath, willing his hummingbird heart to slow, "I didn't know about that picture until a few minutes ago."
There's a snarl and then Derek is gone, running down the empty street on four legs, jumping from cars to roofs and bounding out of sight. Stiles' stomach tightens just as Laura growls and charges, chasing her brother with a threatening howl that pierces through the night.
Stiles watches until she's out of view, wondering if his heart stuttered or not.
Because Stiles wasn't lying about the picture, but he knew about Kate. He's known about Kate and what she would do to Derek for weeks. He isn't sure if he reeks of guilt or if Derek had just known, instinctively, that he was holding something back.
It's not like their earlier talk made this one any easier.
Stiles' eyes shut, picturing the way he'd slammed Derek against the gate, the way he'd screamed in his face about Kate and about their future and how stupid everything is.
"Wh-what was that?" Brad asks, eyes wide. He looks pale, like Lydia did after the alpha attacked her and Jackson outside the video store. "Stiles? Why did my girlfriend just drop to all fours and jump over a building?
Stiles looks at the building Laura and Derek jumped over and back to Brad. He really doesn't know how to explain any of this, and he has way bigger things to worry about right now. Peter's voice is whispering in his ear, about Derek spurring Kate into action.
He stands on shaky legs, using the building to support himself. He thinks the photography store is only a street away.
Stiles may be an asshole for it, but he leaves Brad laying on the sidewalk, shaking like a leaf, asking only the sky if he's crazy. Laura can kill him for it after he's put Kate Argent in the ground.
(also please note Stiles is not in his right state of mind and actually hasn't been for a while~*~)
i think we all know what pradziadek means at this point, but just in case
pradziadek - great grandfather.