Loopholes
“I suppose you want me to take a seat?”
Derek snorted. “No. I want you to stand. Or rather, to be in a position even more uncomfortable. But that's not the point right now.”
Noshiko raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes glinting, whether it was in amusement or in anger he couldn't say.
“The girl can be saved.”
She said it like that information was a bargaining chip that would give her leverage over him.
“By killing the demon,” Derek supplied the rest of the information. There really was no time to wait for another cryptic answer from her.
“A feat which is next to impossible to accomplish. Another action must be taken, and that immediately before someone else will fall victim to it. We have to cut off its power source. Any creature will wither with its roots cut off.”
“If we can’t kill it, then let’s banish it. Send it back to hell or wherever it came from.”
“You speak like the young man you are, inexperienced and cocky. This isn’t a matter of muscles.” Her tone had turned sharp. “If we want to defeat the demons, the rogue Spark has to be stripped off his power. And currently, his power is being magnified by Stiles’. He has already taken too much. Stiles’ spark is no longer his alone, nor is his mind.”
Derek reached into the drawer of his office desk, grabbed a folder and threw it onto the desk.
“You’ve signed this agreement and thus agreed to obey my rules. No killing on my territory.”
“You agreed to let us carry out our mission, granted that we would not interfere with your pack or your territory. We haven’t broken that rule nor are we intending to. But you also agreed not to compromise our mission.”
This was the part where it got interesting. Even Isaac and Erica thought so, from their position in the hallway, listening in on the conversation.
“He’s part of the pack,” they heard their alpha say. Even as an outsider to the conversation, the two knew who he was referring to.
Derek had arrived just in time to break up a heated discussion between Ms Yukimura and Stiles. ‘Discussion’ was the term the kitsune went with. The pack and Stiles included would rather describe it as an interrogation. Naturally, she was suspicious about the sudden surge of power from their enemy. It could only mean that Stiles had lost some. Stiles couldn’t even deny it, seeing as it was quite obvious by his appearance alone. The question that bothered them all was how. How could the enemy find out another name without contact?
Isaac and Erica had shared a look of horror then. It could not be a coincidence that Stiles appeared out of thin air suddenly without recollection of how at the same time as another name was revealed.
“He’s becoming a danger to himself and to everyone else so precautions have to be taken,” Noshiko countered. “I only have his best interest in mind. That is if he hasn’t switched sides.”
“It’s in his best interest to lead a normal life, not be your prisoner or experiment. So he’s not coming with you. End of discussion. Please leave.”
Seconds later, Erica and Isaac scrambled to get away from the hallway as fast as possible before Ms Yukimura could step out of the office and notice them. She must know that the betas were able to hear them but it still would have painted a wrong picture if she found them eavesdropping.
Luckily, she passed them by without a second notice.
“He gave her a loophole,” Erica whispered so only Isaac could hear her.
He nodded. “It all depends whether Stiles can be considered pack or not. Is it his admission that counts or ours?”
“Either way, we’re screwed.”
“Yes, you are.”
They flinched, suddenly remembering that it was not only Noshiko they should have been hiding from.
The alpha had left the office and was now looking at them with his arms crossed. His voice was not thunderous or agitated, he had spoken calmly.
“You saying that he’s pack doesn’t exactly make him pack, right? Not as long as he doesn’t want to be. So, a loophole for the fox. But shouldn’t your word matter more?” Erica asked, feeling empowered to go on at the lack of anger from Derek.
“That’s not how it works,” he answered. “Haven’t you found out by now how pack works?”
They both knew that the actual question was if they knew what it meant to be pack. To feel safe, warm, comforted, annoyed, supported, worried. To have a home. A place, where you can be who you are, where you belong to, even in times when you would prefer to be alone instead. But you were never alone in a pack.
Derek could see the answers in their faces and nodded.
He walked into the living room to check up on Stiles, who was sprawled over the couch, clutching a bucket to his chest.
“Vomit is gross,” Malia said, wrinkling her nose. She was perched on the backrest of the couch, studying Stiles curiously.
“Tell me about it.” Stiles tried for a smile but it turned out as a grimace instead.
Peter returned from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand which he placed on the coffee table, in easy reach for Stiles.
“Forgive me for using your condition for a parental purpose, but, Malia, pay close attention to Stiles. This is exactly what a junkie looks and feels like.”
“She’s a were-coyote! Drugs don’t affect her the way they do humans!” Stiles complained, which turned out rather weakly because he tended to feel lightheaded as soon as he used too much energy.
“We don’t want her supporting the drug industry. Besides, this is a talk every parent must have with their child or so I’ve been told.” Peter shrugged his shoulders.
Cora made eye contact with Derek and frowned. “Is the witch gone?”
“She’s a kitsune, not a witch.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Same difference. So, what’s the verdict?”
“Nothing’s changed,” Derek said.
It was now Stiles who locked eyes with Derek, shaking his head at him. Nothing’s changed? What a joke! Everything had changed.
He never got to say so, though, because as he opened his mouth, he puked.
***
One of the things that had changed were the sleeping arrangements, for example. Stiles was no longer allowed to sleep alone now that he could disappear without a trace at any given moment. At first, he had fought it. Not as hard as he wanted to since he had not been in the disposition to argue while his head was hanging into a bucket, but he had tried.
It wasn’t only that his freedom had got taken away from him, though that was what pissed him off the most. He also continued burdening others with his inability to keep out of trouble. Now, Isaac was the first who was on ‘Stiles-duty’, which meant that Stiles had to spent the night in Isaac’s room.
Isaac was not that bad of a roommate, that much Stiles could admit. He didn’t prod Stiles about what had happened and just accepted that Stiles himself had not the faintest idea recollection of what had transpired while he had slept.
Sitting on a mattress on the floor, still dressed in the pyjamas he had arrived in, Stiles studied his hands. Isaac was sitting at his desk, holding a hand mirror, removing various hairpins and clips Erica had used on him.
In another situation, Stiles might have laughed at Isaac’s appearance. The beta wolf looked ridiculous. Even funnier was that he had been wearing the pins and clips the whole time until now, having seemingly forgotten about it during all the commotion. What did the Order think, walking in on a beta werewolf, playing hair salon?
It could have been funny. But it wasn’t.
The two lines of his scars had darkened considerably over the last hour. They were almost as black as the other two but not quite. Not yet.
It was a slow sickness this time instead of a rush of pain and fever. It was nausea, a wild thumping heart, itches under his fingertips, a burning in his throat, skin too tight for a boy his size and a head too heavy for a human to carry. A doctor would have told him it was the flu.
Stay hydrated, would have been the advice. But Stiles knew that a part of his soul was being slowly cut out and no medication or advice would help. Not ripped as if done by a beast like the last time. No, this time, a surgeon was at the task, carefully making the incision with a scalpel, anaesthesia and disinfectant. And here he was, waking up from the surgery, body trying desperately to compensate for the missing part.
The worst was that he wasn't the only one affected.
Burly was lying next to him, panting heavily. He was as still as if he was sleeping but his eyes would open from time to time.
A text message confirmed that miles away, another victim lay in bed, enduring the pain that should have only been his alone.
How much worse would it be if he hadn't others to split it with?
Stiles clenched his teeth and knew that he could not let things continue this way.
“Hey, everything alright? Are you in pain or anything?” Isaac asked, looking at him in concern.
“Sure, dude.”
Isaac’s gaze wandered to the door, then back to him.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but… I think the Order doesn’t believe you anymore.”
Stiles snorted. “Oh, really. What makes you think so?”
One look from Noshiko and he had known. Before this night, she had never questioned how the hooded man had found out his first name. It was almost as if she had known. Jordan had been the only one interested in how it had happened, but it was possible that he had shared this knowledge with Noshiko afterwards. She had accepted that he had no fault in that. He hadn’t known what would happen, hadn’t known that someone else could have access to the spark in the notebook.
This time, however, she asked immediately how it was possible that he had lost another name. It wasn’t registered officially, so that made him the only person with the knowledge. Not even his father knew. His memory had been taken away with Stiles’ and he was only slowly gaining it back.
Naturally, being the only one in the know incriminated him.
Isaac shrugged. “It’s just weird. The Kitsune didn't even ask if there was an attack. That would be the first thing to assume, right? Because you're the victim.”
Seeing Stiles flinch at the word, he immediately corrected himself, “You’re the innocent one, is what I mean. She didn't even know that you were sleepwalking or whatever. I'm just saying, seems like this woman has never had much trust in you to begin with.”
Stiles almost laughed at that. “Trust is something personal. That woman is all business. Trust is not something she resorts to.”
“That doesn't sound like your training sessions with her were much fun. Why did you even join them, then? “
Stiles didn't answer and he didn't have to. He just looked down at his marred palms and the answer was clear.
Isaac must have followed his gaze and come to the right conclusion himself. This was not about finding a replacement for the pack.
“I had hopes in them, too,” Isaac admitted quietly. “I thought they would know how to deal with this. But if their way of dealing with this involves murdering innocent people, then I think even we can do a better job. Why would they even categorize you as the danger? We didn't tell them about you appearing out of thin air. For all they know, you were sleeping soundly in your bed when another name got revealed. It makes no sense to me.”
Stiles’ head turned so suddenly that the movement was accompanied by a loud crack. He had given himself whiplash.
“How did they know last time? Did they see the graffiti and draw the same conclusion as my dad did?” Stiles added his own questions, which Isaac's had elicited. “Or maybe we've been going about this all wrong.”
Thoughts were racing through his head, sometimes connecting, sometimes contradicting each other. His mind was a busy road with some traffic jams.
It was better than the stillness that had prevailed ever since he had awoken.
“Isaac, you’re my favourite. By far.”
***
Allison woke up the following day, looking almost completely normal if it weren’t for the dark shadows under her eyes and the black skin around the sting. At first, she didn’t remember what had happened to her. She blinked at them in a bemused fashion and then she smiled. She apologized to Scott for cutting their meeting short and squeezed his arm in a comforting gesture.
Scott frowned and took a step back as if he wasn’t sure whether he was looking at the same Allison he had known before. Something was different. Immediately, her eyes darkened and an emotion he couldn’t identify twisted her facial expression. Then, she just hissed in pain as her ankle gave out. Scott caught her before she could hit the floor.
“What was that?” she asked, surprised by the sudden stinging pain.
“It does seem like the sting affected her. It must have been poisonous,” Deaton explained, still watching her.
“Poisonous? But she is looking fine!” Scott said.
“I’m feeling fine as well,” Allison said, “Still a little woozy but otherwise fine.”
“To know which symptoms the poison manifests, we’d have to know what kind of demon stung her. Since we don’t know that, we have to observe the symptoms and then conclude what demon it was. It is immensely harder to figure it out this way, of course.”
“But there’s a way, at least,” Scott said, trying to be positive. Deaton was such a downer sometimes.
Deaton smiled. “That’s a good way of thinking, I suppose.”
“Can you drive me home now?” Allison grimaced a little.
Scott nodded, took her by the arm and guided her out of the animal clinic to the jeep. He didn’t trust his motorcycle to be a comfortable means of transportation for Allison’s current disposition. It had been an incredible testimony to their friendship that Stiles had allowed Scott to take his beloved jeep.
“Do I seem different to you?” Allison asked suddenly.
Scott took a moment to think about it. “You’re still you. Determined, brave and kind. I don’t think any poison could be powerful enough to change your core.”
“Do you still love me?”
Scott sputtered. He lost grip on the steering wheel for only a moment but he almost drove the jeep into a ditch.
“What?”
“Do you love me as I love you?”
“I… This is not a conversation we should be having while I’m driving.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched as hurt washed over her features until she hid it promptly behind a mask of indifference.
“You’re right.”
She kept quiet for the rest of the ride. As she got out of the car, she favoured her right leg. She still moved with the grace and precision only a hunter could possess. She could have appeared invincible if it wasn’t for the anguish in her eyes.