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“I need to get out of Beacon Hills, Dad. Spend some time away from all of this”
Stiles was driving north, and about an hour out of Beacon Hills in the rear vision mirror saw an SUV come up behind him and start to overtake before he was side slammed at speed and forced off the road head on into a tree. The impact was the last thing he experienced before he lost consciousness.
A miserable and muted pack was together at the McCall’s house when the Sheriff escorted Melissa back home. They were both pale and reeking of grief. The Sheriff didn’t make eye contact with anyone else, turning away from them back to the door and stating “If any one of you dares to show your face at the funeral, I will shoot you. With the special bullets. You’ve done quite enough so just stay the hell away from me now.” He then left in silence, no-one spoke until the door closed behind him.
“What happened, Mom?” asked Scott.
“Stiles killed himself”
The pack was silent in shock, before Scott said “He wouldn’t do that!”
Melissa fixed him with a look of not just grief, but accusation. “He suffered a traumatic attack followed by which all his friends rejected him. What did you think was going to happen? He’d just - get over the trauma completely alone? Shrug it off? Get out all of you. Scott – I can’t even look at you right now. I am so ashamed of you.”
As they filed out of the house in shock, Lydia rang Parrish, who told her that yes, Stiles died in a car accident and it looked like suicide, as he had veered off and hit a tree at speed on a straight piece of road in good weather.
A week later Parrish turned up to Derek’s loft to tell the pack that Stiles’ death was now being investigated as a homicide. The Sheriff wanted them to know because although the official and primary suspects are still the rapists eliminating a witness, there were a couple of reasons it could actually have been hunters.
“What makes them suspect hunters?” asked Derek.
“The jeep was forced off the road by a large heavy vehicle like a truck or an SUV, the paint chips on the road show the vehicle was black. Big black SUVs are typical of hunters”
“Does that mean the Sheriff doesn’t blame us any more? asked Scott.
Peter interrupted to say “Of course he still blames you and he is right to. The only reason Stiles was out there, alone and vulnerable is because you abandoned him, you threw him away. Derek seems to be developing something of a habit of abandoning packmates.”
That shot had Derek rearing back, but before he could say anything Peter continued:
“It had to have been Taggart in the SUV.”
“Why Taggart?” “ Who’s Taggart?”
“Because I had already identified and disposed of the other three rapists.”
Derek stood up in anger “That wasn’t your call!”
Peter rounded on him in fury “No! It was the Alpha’s responsibility to punish them and send a message that he was not to be touched. And you failed to do that. The day it happened the whole pack should have been out there tracking them down and making an example of them. My only regret is that on my own I only managed to kill three of them. If I had gotten to the fourth one in time Stiles would still be alive.”
Lydia turned to Parrish and said “You said for a couple of reasons – what was the other reason the Sheriff thought it might have been hunters?”
Parrish said “You don’t want to know.”
“Please tell us.”
Parrish had tears in his eyes, and tipped his head back to stop them falling. His voice was as level as he could make it. “After they ran Stiles off the road, it looks like he must have been still alive. They cable tied his hands to the steering wheel and the vehicle was set on fire. With him trapped in it.” He left the loft immediately.
There was a stunned and heartbroken silence. Peter broke it, saying “Stiles was very loyal. I wish it had been directed somewhere worthy.” He also left.
Stiles woke up and heard a voice calling out that he was waking up, and was greeted by a lady who explained that her name was Vivian, alpha of the Johnston pack. He had been unconscious, and they had him on a drip but he had not been getting any better. When his condition started to significantly degenerate, she bit him. They had smelt another pack on his car and person, figured the guy who had run him off the road, cable tied him to the wheel and was dousing the vehicle in gas was a hunter, so they grabbed him and knocked the guy out by hitting him in the same place Stiles had a head injury, rescued Stiles, and put the guy in his place, set fire to the jeep and then disappeared the hunter’s SUV.
“How long was I unconscious? I have to tell my Dad I’m OK!”
“As soon as you can demonstrate control as a werewolf and it is safe for him to see you. Do you want us to contact your pack?”
“I don’t have one.”
“But you smell like pack.”
“They threw me out. I was beaten and raped by humans, and they said I was weak and endangered them.”
Vivian was appalled at the very idea of treating pack that way, and she hugged Stiles and assured him he had a place with them if he wanted it, for as long as he wanted it.
Vivian was so pleased with Stiles’ progress that after only a week she rang the Beacon Hills station and asked to speak to the Sheriff. She introduced herself as Alpha Johnston, and asked him to visit, alone if he was happy to, or to bring Deputy Parrish with him. She had information for him about a staged accident involving his son.
“Alone is fine. Give me the address and I will see you this afternoon.”
The Sheriff rolled up to a rather lovely large farmhouse looking building. Alpha Vivian came out to greet him, and to say there was someone here who would very much like to see him again. They went through the door and the Sheriff hugged Stiles with joy. “Alpha Vivian bit me Dad, to save my life.”
“Can you come home?”
“Stiles still needs training. It is safe for you to see him , but he is not ready for the general public. He can stay here in our pack for as long as he wants, I suggest he finishes high school online.”
“Is that what you want, Stiles?”
“Yes, I think that would be good for me.”
“Can I bring Melissa up to see you?”
“Yes, I would like that.”
After the visit, Stiles was called away, and Vivian walked the Sheriff to his car.
“Your son is a fine young man, you must be very proud.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And his previous pack must be a bunch of fuckwits.”
If the Sheriff had any liquid in his mouth, he would have performed a spit-take.
“Yes they are. I don’t think I am going to tell them where he is or who he is with. I don’t think I could see and speak to any of them without kicking the crap out of them.”
“He has been very hurt by them. The trauma of his rape and that rejection will slow down his learning control, but he is highly intelligent and adaptive, so it probably means he’ll progress as quickly as an average person.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of my son”
“It’s my privilege. He’s a wonderful young man.”
The pack runs a business from the farm as well. Stiles finds working with wood is very therapeutic, as is gardening. Vivian said to him “You know Stiles, the accepted wisdom is that the bite is a gift, but in this case we feel you are the gift. We feel very privileged to have you here, and we hope very much that you are happy enough here to stay.
After the Sheriff’s visit Peter turned up at the farm. He introduced himself, explaining the situation and that he had taken care of the first three rapists and now wanted the fourth, and was asking if anyone in the pack had any information about the incident that could help him chasing the culprit. Vivian told him that she was delighted to let him know that the fourth rapist had already been taken care of, explaining that they had come across him in the act of splashing the gasoline on the jeep, and that his was the body in the car. Peter’s face went from grim pleasure that Taggart had been punished to painfully afraid to hope, when Stiles walked into the room. For the first time ever, Stiles say Peter’s unprepared smile of joy, and it transformed his face.
At a later Sheriff visit, they discussed how they would handle Stiles’ resurrection, which was needed for his ID and freedom to finish high school and apply to colleges if he wanted to. They decided that he had been carjacked by the one surviving rapist, and then both of them were run off the road by someone targeting that person who had merely dumped Stiles’ unconscious body after burning their target in the jeep. Stiles was found unconscious and amnesiac, and was recovering from his ordeal.
Before the news came out Derek was on the road, trying to find the fourth guy. He contacted Alpha Johnston to explain the purpose of his visit and she agreed to allow it. He explained that Stiles was the love of his life, and he got him killed. He was so caught up in guilt and grief and believing he was a danger to anyone he loved that he was the reason Stiles died.
When the story was circulated, Scott went to see the Sheriff to ask for Stiles’ contact information, and was refused, being told that Stiles had a lot of recovering to do, and they would not contribute to that.
Some months later Danny Skyped Lydia while she was at the loft, and everyone’s attention was drawn when he asked her “So, when did Stiles become a rock star?” They gathered behind her to watch.
Lydia asked him what he meant, and he said he had spotted him at a coffee shop, all muscly and long haired and hot. “I went over to say hello and this entourage of hot people closed me out. Seriously, I thought they were going to eat me alive, they were really protective of Stiles. He told them I was OK, and we had a short chat. I asked him what the deal was with his majorly hot entourage, and Stiles said after the accident they took him in and he never left. So why the hell had you never told me what happened to Stiles?”
“Guilt mostly. So how did he look, Danny?”
“I took a shot with my phone, I’ll send it to you.”
Lydia clicked on the file, and the shot came up, long haired Stiles with a bit of scruff, still slender but muscular. And closed off.
“He looks great!” said Scott.
“Look at that picture Scott.” said Lydia. “That’s not Stiles. He looks serious and humourless and suspicious. We did that to him, not the rapists. Us. His face was always alive and mobile.”