Chapter Text
When Stiles wakes up, he falls out of bed and starts screaming. He’s panicking and crying and he can’t think for long enough to find a reason to stop yelling. All he sees are claws and fangs and blood, so much blood. He doesn’t stop screaming when his dad bursts into his room, gun drawn. He doesn’t stop screaming until he is in the Sheriff’s arms, smelling his cologne and wrinkling his uniform between his fingers.
‘What happened, kid?’
‘Sorry, dad. Just a bad dream. I’m fine now.`
‘It must have been pretty damn bad for you to be screaming like that.’, the Sheriff looked concerned.
‘It wasn’t that bad, it was just… very real. Sorry.’
‘Come on, get yourself cleaned up. We can have breakfast before I go to the station.’
Stiles got up the floor and wiped his face, brows frowning. ‘But, you’ll be there, right?’
‘Of course I will, Stiles. I wouldn’t miss your graduation for the world.’
His father smiled and ruffled his hair, like he did when he was younger. After the Sheriff left the room, Stiles sat on his desk chair and took a few deep breaths. His therapist told him the best way to get over a nightmare was to say it out loud, as detailed as possible. It worked for him most of the time, so that’s what he did.
‘It was just a dream, Stiles.’, his voice was barely a whisper. ‘Just a dream. There are no werewolves, no hunters, no kanimas, no Alpha packs. Scott’s not a werewolf, Jackson’s not a werewolf or a kanima, Lydia’s not immune, Allison’s not a hunter. Erica, Boyd and Isaac were never werewolves. You didn’t set Peter on fire, you didn’t kill Kali, you didn’t see Deucalion cut Isaac in half.’ He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘There is no Derek Hale. There are no werewolves. It was just a dream. A highly detailed psychotic dream.’
⃝
That day, Stiles graduated high school. He was the salutatorian, while Lydia was the valedictorian, of course. His father hugged him way too tight and told him that he was proud, and that his mother would have been proud too. Mrs. McCall ruffled his hair and told him that her boys are all grown up. As an answer, Scott gave Stiles a piggyback ride.
After the ceremony, they went out for pizza. Stiles, Scott and Allison, Lydia and Jackson, Danny, Isaac. They had a rough start, but after years of high school drama, in the end, they ended up being amazing friends. They were different, but they complemented each other. Some of them were couples, some were not, but they were all friends. Someone was there when you needed it; you were alone if you needed to. They stopped judging each other a long time ago and through the years, they all became closer and closer. Of course, there were factions in their group. Like how Scott and Allison were together, or Lydia and Jackson. Like how Scott will always be Stiles’ best of best friends, the only one who knows everything, or how Allison couldn’t keep a secret from Lydia. Like how Danny was the only one who could fully control Jackson or how Isaac felt the safest with Scott. Yes, they all were a bit fucked up, one way or another, but they did come together and made the best of everything. Now, they finally finished high school, and Stiles was happy.
That night, they went to a local club the high school rented for the annual ‘goodbye party’. All the seniors were there, and even some teachers. Stiles got a hug from every member of the lacrosse team, including the Coach. Harris gave him a beer and told him he never wants to see him again. Understandable, really, considering how many hours of detention he spent with the jerk. The beer was a surprise.
He danced with Lydia, he danced with Allison, he danced with Scott, he danced with Scott and Allison, he danced with Lydia and Danny, he danced with Jackson and Danny and Isaac, he danced with his favorite English teacher and with the councilor. He saw Erica standing on the bar, feet tangling in the air while she sipped on an orange juice. He couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. He knew her story, about the epilepsy, about Boyd, her steady boyfriend who drowned two summers ago. They weren't friends, not really. Acquaintances that had to do a couple of high school project together, who saw each other at parties and said ‘hello’ when they met at the grocery store. But the dream made Stiles march up to her, pick her up by the hips and dance until she started complaining about wearing heels.
Today, Stiles graduated from high school. He was happy. They’ll all leave their separate ways soon, but tonight they were still together, without stressful ideas about collage, courses, plain tickets, roommates and so on an so forth. Stiles was with his high school friends, and he was happy.
But he couldn’t forget the dream. It was too vivid, too detailed, too long.
The next day, Stiles started writing it down. Even if nothing came out of it, he was going to study literature and creative writing, so it couldn’t hurt.
By the time he left for collage, he had a rough outline of his dream. It was 50 pages long.
After the first year of college, it was 400 pages long.
When he graduated from college, it was 1200 pages long.
By the time he finished all his studies and internships, and moved back to Beacon Hills to teach English at his old high school, Stiles had a series of four completed sci-fi novels. He was the only one who knew of their existence.
⃝
Stiles was happy to be back in Beacon Hills. He enjoyed the time he was away, he enjoyed college and all the new people and places, but it felt good to be home. He missed his dad, and even though he got his own apartment, it was good seeing him more often and just knowing they’re in the same town.
All his high school friends made their way back home too. Scott and Allison were planning their wedding; Isaac was a deputy and worked close to Stiles’ father. Lydia, Jackson and Danny opened a law firm together. It was weird, Stiles thought, that they’d all settled in a not-so-small town. But, when he thought about it, it made complete sense. They were all troubled souls that went through a lot of bad things from a young age, that’s what bought them together all those years ago. They were damaged and they needed other people who understood them. They needed family and that was all in Beacon Hills.
When he applied for the job, Stiles didn’t really think he’d get it, considering Principal Thomas was still the boss in Beacon Hills High. But, apparently, his incredibly good grades and recommendations were enough for Thomas to forget how much of a trouble maker Stiles was when he was a teenager. So, when the first day of school came around, Stiles found himself in the teacher’s lounge, a whole full hour before the first bell rang.
He was nervous as hell and thinking if he really needed to drink his third cup of coffee. He talked to his father before he left for work, but not even the Sheriff’s encouraging words weren’t able to calm Stiles down. But he pushed through it and managed to function normally.
There were a lot of teachers he didn’t know. Stiles tried his best to remember their names and what subject they taught. They were nice to him, even if he was the new one. They smiled, asked him why he chose Beacon Hills and gave him advice.
Of course, they stopped when Harris came in the room and started screaming.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Mr. Stilinski? Strangers aren’t allowed in the teacher’s lounge and you may have attended this school, but that was years ago. Please stop inflicting your idiotic opinions to my colleagues. Leave, before I call security!’
Stiles rolled his eyes so hard it almost gave him a headache. He ignored the curious looks he got from the other teachers and faked the biggest smile he could manage.
‘Awh, it’s so good to see you, Mr. Harris. It’s been years, hasn’t it?’
Harris puffed. ‘Stiles, I swear to God!’
‘Duuuude! Believe it or not, I do work here now, I teach English. It’s my first day and would you look at that?, I guess some things never change, you’re still making my life a living hell. Awesome, just awesome.’
‘Thomas hired you?’, Harris asked incredulously.
‘Yes.’, Stiles calmly took a sip of his coffee.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m good at what I do. Because I finished college a valedictorian, because I studied for a semester in England, because not only do I have a masters in Literature, but also a minor in Psychology, because I had excellent recommendations from top of the line people, but, most importantly, because he likes me!’
Harris was staring at him with his eyes wide and jaw dropped.
‘Mr. Harris, it really is a pleasure to see you. It’s nice not to be surrounded by strangers on the first day of work, isn’t it? Anyway, would you be so kind and remember, next time we see each other, that I’m not a spastic 16 year old anymore, and you’re not supposed to treat me like shit? Cause now I can return the treatment.’
But before Harris got a chance to respond, the room shook when a familiar voice called out a horrible ‘BILINSKI!’
‘Oh good God’, Stiles groaned, ‘Finstock’s still here?’
‘You’re supposed to call him Coach’, the small redhead that taught math whispered.
‘He also likes being called cupcake.’, Stiles sighed and made his way to hug the older man.
⃝
After he managed to deal with the adults without making a complete fool of himself, Stiles rushed to the bathroom before his first class. He took off the white shirt and black tie he was wearing, changing into a Star Wars t-shirt. Some things never change, like Harris being a dick and Stiles’ love for graphic T-shirts. He didn’t wear them as often as he did in college, but he needed to impress a bunch of teenagers. He kept on the black jacket, though; he needed to look a bit professional. With one last check in the mirror (fly was up, glasses were clean, nothing nasty on the face), Stiles made his way to his first class.
It was bad. Very bad. He got into the room and, naturally, everybody was talking. But they didn’t stop when he came in. Stiles sighed. Even if he was 25, bartenders were still asking for his ID.
He smiled and kept his mouth shut as he made his way to the teacher’s desk. Stiles put his bag on the chair and sat on the desk, dangling his feet, looking over all the students.
After three minutes, one of the girls in the front row raised an eyebrow at him. She was beautiful, with blonde long hair, expensive clothes and 3 inch heels. It reminded Stiles of Lydia. He smiled at her, but she didn’t say anything, returning to the conversation she was having with the girl who stood behind her.
‘You’re gonna get in trouble.’, a guy from the front row said. He looked at Stiles for a couple of seconds, judged him thoroughly, then went back to his phone.
Stiles bit his cheek, trying not to laugh. He got down from the desk and made his way to the kid. ‘What am I gonna get in trouble for?’
‘For putting your ass on the teacher’s desk.’
At this point, half the class was silent, watching him with interest, while the other half was still talking, only looking at him from the corner of their eyes.
‘So, uhm. I guess it’s not allowed for someone to stay on the teacher’s desk?’, Stiles faked stupidity.
‘Of course not’, the blonde girl answered. She looked incredibly annoyed.
‘But. Uhm. I mean… is the teacher allowed to stay like that on the desk?’
The cocky guy frowned. ‘I guess. Nobody’s ever done it before.’
Stiles smiled. ‘Woo-hoo, I’m original. Awesome.’
That caused both the girl and the boy to roll their eyes. Stiles laughed while he made his way to the door, closing it.
‘Alright, guys, that’s enough!’, he raised his voice a bit, causing everybody to stop talking and look at him. He smiled. ‘My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I’ll be your English teacher this year. Firstly, let me settle the really important things. No, my name is not really Stiles, but nobody can pronounce my real name, and I’ve been going by Stiles since I was 10. Yes, Stilinski, as in Sheriff Stilinski, he’s my dad. Yes, I did go here before I left for college. I came back two weeks ago, by the way. I swear to God, this town has not changed at all in the past 6 years, how is that even possible? No, I don’t know any of your teachers from high school. Except Harris, Finstock, and Principal Thomas. I am still shocked that they’re still here, so let’s not ever talk about that. Ever. Please.’
He finished his rant and noticed that everybody was looking at him with wide eyes.
Stiles smiled, wishing they won’t notice his blush. ‘So, any questions?’
The blonde girl raised a hand. After he nodded, she asked in a slightly annoyed voice: ‘Are you even legal?’
Stiles facepalmed and groaned. ‘Yes, God damn it! I’m 25, if you must know. Do you wanna see my license? Ugh. Come on, guys, stop laughing. I know I look like a spoiled brat, it’s so hard getting a drink, you wouldn’t believe.’
‘Are you really going to teach us English?’, the blonde asked in an even more annoyed tone, shutting everybody else up.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t think I can do that?’, he challenged.
‘You’re wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and complaining about not being able to get drinks. Excuse me if I am not convinced.’
Stiles nodded seriously. ‘I like you. You’re feisty. I bet you’re the type of person who never lets anyone tell her bullshit, right?’
‘Yes.’, she raised her chin.
‘Good’, Stiles smiled. ‘The truth is, this is the first time I’m teaching high school. I did teach college seminars for 2 years and elementary school in England for a semester. And, let’s be honest here, we all know how anal Principal Thomas is with the quality of his teachers, so, all modesty aside… Yes, I will be teaching you English.’
The girl nodded and opened her notebook.
‘Now that that’s settled…’ Stiles made his way back to the desk, sitting on it once again. ‘Any other questions before I start talking about the marvelous things you’ll be learning this year?’
A guy in the back raised his hand. ‘What do we call you?’
Stiles laughed. ‘Anything but Mr. Stilinski, I beg of you. That’s my dad.’
‘No, your father is Sheriff Stilinski.’
He narrowed his eyes at the blonde girl. ‘Jesus, you must be so fun at parties. How about this? Every time someone calls me Mr. Stilinski, I’ll give you all a pop quiz. Sound good?’ The kids looked a bit afraid, so Stiles did his best imitation of Mandark’s evil laugh.
He was cut short by Harris barging into his classroom. ‘Mr. Stilinski, do I need to remind you about appropriate behavior towards our students?’
Stiles laughed at the students’ terrified expressions. The blonde girl raised her hand. ‘The pop quiz rule doesn’t count if he’s the one that calls you that, right?’
‘No, no, no, of course not. Mr. Harris here is the exception. Truth be told, I don’t think I can convince him to call me anything else but that, considering he’s been doing it for 10 years. He hates me, so, I’ll give him that.’
‘I am standing right here’, Harris crossed his hands over his chest.
Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. ‘That’s your own fault. Don’t you have a class to go back to? I’m busy here!’. He made shooing motions with his hands and did his best death-glare.
After Harris left, the class was giggling. Stiles counted that as a win and went on with his first-day lecture.
⃝
All in all, the first day of school went fairly well. But he was tired by the time it was over, so he made his way to his favorite coffee shop. ‘The Couch’ was in the exact spot he left it 6 years ago. The small café maintained the same owners and, while the baristas changed, the coffee was still amazing.
On his way out, he nearly knocked Erica over.
‘Oh fuck. I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.’
She ignored his apologies and hugged him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Stiles laughed. They weren’t friends, not really. But they did speak on facebook every other week and they did run into each other in New York a couple of times.
‘Getting coffee?’
‘What are you doing in Beacon Hills, dumbass?’
‘I moved back two weeks ago. Teaching English at the high school.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re kidding. Our high school?’
‘Oh, yes. Thomas is still there. And Finstock and Harris. Who still hates me, by the way. And the cafeteria food is still horrible.’
‘Oh my god, Stiles!’, she whined. ‘I am such in a hurry right now, but I want to catch up.’ She handed him her business card. ‘Call me sometimes, we’ll have dinner or something, please?’
‘Sure’, Stiles smiled. ‘Anything for my blonde queen!’
Erica laughed all the way to her car.
⃝
She meets Erica over dinner, the next weekend. She thinks it’s a date and literally whines when Stiles tells her he’s gay.
After that, they have fun. Talking about people from high school, about what they did in the past years, how they’ve changed. They’re both happy, if not a little lonely.
He meets her again the next week. And the next, and the next.
Next thing he knows, he’s sitting in his apartment, with Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Isaac and Erica, eating pizza and discussing politics. It feels like she belongs there, like she’s been there since high school.
Lydia follows him into the kitchen and pokes his sides. ‘She’s so different.’
‘We all are’, Stiles smiles.
‘We are, but... She fits right in now. And I’m happy about it, I’m glad you brought her in. But… do you think it would have been the same in high school?’
‘I don’t know, Lyds. But I don’t think it matters.’
Lidia smiles. ‘Look at you, Stilinski. When did you grow up?’
He laughs. ‘I didn’t. I still have Batman underwear.’
⃝
A few weeks later, he’s at the mall with the girls, looking for Allison’s wedding dress. She looks beautiful in every one of the 5 dresses she tries on. He tells her as much, and that she’s the best sister-in-law he can ask for.
‘God, Allison, can you believe it? You’re here, looking for a wedding dress. You’re marrying Scott! You’ve been together for 10 years and you’ve been through so much, but you’ve made it! Together. I am so happy for you, but how can we mere mortals compete with that? You’re perfect, Alli, you deserve all the happiness Scott will give you.’
She starts crying, hugs him and decides the dress she was currently trying on is not perfect.
Erica sits down next to him on the couch and takes his hand. ‘Thank you. I’m not sorry I wasn’t part of this back then. I can’t regret the past, but I am so glad I know all of you now.’
Stiles laughs. ‘We’re a bunch of damaged bastards, all traumatized by various events we went through when we were young, varying from dead parents, to adoption, rape and abuse. You should run and never come back.’
‘I fit right it’, Erica smiles. ‘You know how hard it was for me. I fit right in and you guys… you anchor each other. It’s a beautiful thing to watch from the outside, but being part of it… You’re helping me too, you know.’
‘Good.’ Stiles squeezes her hand and starts talking about the idiotic things he reads in the papers he has to grade.
⃝
Next weekend, he has dinner with Erica, just the two of them. She’s an editor for a publishing house based in LA. He tells her about the dream he had on the night before graduation. He tells her why he danced with her that night. He tells her how he kept writing and developing the books in the past 7 years. He tells her how much it helped him during college, how it was a way of relaxing. He tells her how he changed things millions and millions of times, each times he learned something new in school.
‘Nobody knows about them. Just you. I… they’re… something else. I’m not saying they’re good, I’m just saying that the story isn’t your typical werewolf love story. I… I kept the names, but please remember this is fiction. It’s not real. Even if you know the characters of the book, even though they look like them and think and react and sound like them… please remember they’re characters. They’re not accurate, their backstories. They’re not real. Nothing’s real.’
Erica looks … flabergastered. But she’s looking at him with big, soft eyes. ‘You… want me to read them?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I never intended to do anything with them. But… you… If someone’s gonna read them, it should be you. I’m not asking you to read them as an editor, I’m asking you to read them as my friend.’
She nods. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
⃝
The next week is insane. It’s midterms week, and the whole of Beacon Hills High went insane, students and teachers both. When Friday comes along, all Stiles wants to do is drink some beer, eat some pizza and watch stupid reality tv shows.
It’s 2 am and his phone is ringing. Erica sounds frantic, like she’s crying.
‘Sweetie, slow down, I can’t understand what you’re saying, Erica.’
‘They’re amazing, Stiles. They’re incredibly amazing and I just finished the forth one and I don’t know what to do with myself.’
Stiles opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times. He smiles.
‘Go to sleep, Erica. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
He hangs up and goes to bed with a smile on his face.
⃝
Erica spends the next week trying to convince Stiles to publish the books.
‘We’ll change all the names and the descriptions of the characters. Nobody will know it’s about them. Cause that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? You’re afraid people will know it’s about them and will think it’s real.’
‘There is a big possibility of that, yes.’, he answers, annoyed.
Erica takes his hand and looks into his eyes. ‘They won’t care. They’re such good books, Stiles. They deserved to be published. And you deserve it too. You should talk to them.’
‘No.’
‘Please.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Think about it.’
‘No.’
⃝
He does think about it. It’s the only thing he can think about.
He talks to his dad about it. He tells Stiles to talk to his friend.
He forgets all about it. Erica and the Sheriff don’t mention it again.
⃝
One week later, they’re at Isaac’s flat, eating pizza and discussing the movie they saw that night.
Allison tells Scott that there’s no such thing as fate.
Stiles freezes and catches Erica’s eye.
She smiles.
Stiles starts thinking about it again, because that was the last line of his second book.
⃝
One week later, he sends an e-mail to everyone, his father and Mrs. Mccall included.
Dear friends,
Hello! Don’t stop reading, this is important. Nothing has ever been this important in my life.
Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but still. :)
The night before I graduated high school, I had a horrible nightmare. I woke up screaming so loud that my dad came in with his gun drawn, do you remember that, dad? It was awful.
I dreamt that … [please make sure you’re sitting down]
I wasn’t friends with you. It was just me and Scott. One night, I dragged him out in the woods and he got bit by a werewolf. He met Allison, fell in love with her, but when she found out that her family hunts werewolves, things between them got difficult. Another werewolf came to town, Derek Hale (no, there isn’t and never was a Derek Hale living in Beacon Hills, I checked). His whole family died in a fire. He tried to help Scott, but the one who bit him was more powerful than both of them.
It goes on from there. Lydia got bit, Jackson got bit. Erica, Boyd and Isaac got bit. There were three different types of werewolves, hunters, werelizards, magic, evil, deranged humans, psychopaths, damaged teenagers, broken humans, kidnappings, torture, ritual murders, Celtic druids, manipulation, love, hate, humor, hate, hate, hate, love, blood, gore, and so on and so forth.
It was one hell of a dream. Insane, right? Right. But it was so long, and so detailed. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Over the last 7 years I have been turning this fucked up dream into… words. It’s 4 volumes. Of us.
Not us. Different versions of us.
Erica read them. She wants to publish them. I don’t. Not really. I never thought about publishing them. But… If it were to happen, now would be a good time to do it.
It’s not up to me. It’s not my story, not really. It’s your stories. What could never have been or been if, you know, werewolves were real.
This is what I am afraid of: people recognizing you and assuming the stories are real.
‘How can they think they’re real, werewolves aren’t real!’. That’s what Lydia’s thinking right now, aren’t you? Just… go with it. I promise you the books don’t reveal anything real that any of you wouldn’t want anyone else to know. If we’re doing this, Erica and I will change all the names and character descriptions. She thinks it will be enough.
Please. Read them. I know they’re long, but Erica says they’re good.
They hurt, though. Quite a bit. You have been warned.
But, please. Read them. It’s your decision if we publish these or not. If we don’t, that’s fine by me. I’m happy you got to read them.
Hugs and kisses, ss