Chapter Text
Stiles knew there was something weird going on with Scott McCall and his friends. Not that they did anything wrong. It was just that whenever anything inexplicable or bizarre happened, they were at the centre of it. They did all sorts of probably illegal stuff, but nobody batted an eye. People died around them.
But even with all this evidence, it seemed like Stiles was the only one in Beacon Hills who noticed. Nobody cared that they left school at the middle of the day, if they even bothered to show up at all. Nobody noticed that they broke into places all the time. Nobody was suspicious of the way they still managed to pass their classes.
Except for Stiles.
You see, Scott McCall and his friends were popular. Not the typical kind of popular, the mean, queen-bee, supreme kind of popular. But still, everybody knew them. But nobody knew Stiles. Sure, he was the ‘Sheriff's kid’, or ‘that one smart kid from French’. But nobody knew Stiles. He had no friends, no lunch partners, no teammates.
Stiles was a nobody.
So you could imagine his surprise when Scott McCall of all people was waiting at his locker.
“Hey, you’re the Sheriff's kid, right?” he said. Stiles sighed. Here we go.
“Yes, the Sheriff is my dad, and no, I can’t get you a fake ID.” he said while putting in the code. It clicked and Stiles opened the locker.
“Uh- No, that’s not-” a confused Scott McCall stuttered. He shook his head (which weirdly made him look like a puppy). “I wanted to ask for you help with something else.”
“I don’t do essays, unless you’re willing to pay. A lot.” Stiles put his books in his locker, with a bored expression. He’d had this talk too many times. He heard Scott sigh. He’d probably try to convince him to do his homework anyway. Although, Scott didn’t seem the type.
“No, I need your help with something else.”
-
“You want to see if I can find any elderly women on fire?” Stiles asked incredulously. He didn’t know how he got talked into doing this. Scott McCall’s puppy eyes are just too convincing. How could one human being be so adorable?
“Yeah.” Scott McCall said.
“You know this is illegal, right?” Stiles protested, “Security cameras aren’t accessible to the public for a reason.” Despite Stiles’ very legitimate arguments, Scott just nodded. Stiles sighed and just accepted the situation. And that situation was quite bizarre.
Scott fricking McCall (!!!) was sat in Stiles’ bedroom, looking over his shoulder to search through security cameras for a burning old woman.
“Alright then.” Stiles logged into his dad’s account (of course he knew his passwords) and opened the security database. Thousands of clips popped up, hours worth of footage from Beacon Hills. “How much time do you have?”
“I don’t know.” Scott McCall said, “Why?”
Stiles looked back to face the mysteriously beautiful guy on his bed.
“Because this is gonna take a while.”
-
“Stiles, wake up. It’s time for school, kiddo-” Stiles groaned.
“Couple’f minutes…” He swatted the air, but hit something. Slowly opening one eye, he looked at the object obstructing his swatting-area. He was lying on a soft T-shirt. He followed the shirt to a tan collarbone. Collarbone?
Scott McCall. He was lying on Scott McCall.
Stiles lurched back, scrambling to not fall of his bed, and failing miserably. He wildly looked around the room. Scott McCall was looking dazed, and his dad was standing in the doorway, smiling so sweetly it made Stiles sick.
“Dad! Go away!” Stiles said frantically.
“Breakfast is ready downstairs.” With that, the Sheriff left Stiles on the floor, and Scott McCall on his bed. Great.
“Good morning.” Scott McCall was sporting a dopey smile, which made Stiles hate him even more.
“Ugh…” Stiles looked up at the ceiling for a second in a call for help. “Sorry, Scott, I didn’t realize it’d gotten so late.”
“Oh no! No worries.” Scott McCall’s stupid smile didn’t break for a second. “I love spontaneous sleepovers.” He moved to get ready, but his words made Stiles’ heart skip a beat. He’s never had a sleepover before… But with Scott McCall of all people?!
“Ooh, I smell pancakes!” Scott McCall said. Taking the (obvious) hint, Stiles stood and led the way to the kitchen.
-
“You’re Melissa’s kid, right? Scott?” Stiles’ dad was pointing at Scott McCall with a fork full of pancake, which was dangerously dripping with syrup.
“Yeah,” Scott nodded, “Aren’t you and my mom friends or something?”
“We went to high school together, yes. We used to get together sometimes when you were kids, actually, but work got into the way.”
Stiles’ mouth hung open. “What? How did I not know this?” Him hanging out with Scott McCall?!
“Well, you were only toddlers…” the Sheriff chuckled.
Stiles caught Scott staring into the distance. What would he give to know what Scott McCall was thinking about?
-
Even though Scott McCall had slept over at his house, Stiles still felt weird when said guy waved at him in the hall, or sat next to him in class. And Stiles wasn’t the only one who thought that way.
“Who’s that again?” Stiles once heard Malia say to Scott McCall after he greeted him. Stiles quickly turned a corner before he could hear whatever Scott McCall had to say about him.
He wasn’t surprised, of course. Scott McCall had a good heart, and an unyielding desire to make everybody his friend. But he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Stiles just wasn’t friend material.
-
“What’s up, dad?” Stiles said after stumbling down the stairs and totally not almost falling. His dad was sat at the dinner table, surrounded by case files and photographs. Stiles tried to sneak a look at the pictures, but his dad quickly snatched them from under him.
“Stiles, you know you aren’t allowed to see these things.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “I know…” His dad nodded in approval.
“So what’s up with the McCall kid?” he asked. Stiles almost choked.
“Nothing! There’s nothing up with him!” he waved frantically with his hands, “In fact, I’d say everything is... down...” His dad raised an eyebrow at the last sentence, and Stiles winced.
“Sit down, son.” Stiles quickly threw himself in the chair opposite to his dad. The man took a deep breath and folded his hands together on the table.
“Stiles, I want you to know that I love you.” he started, “I always will, no matter what.”
“Dad-” Stiles tried, but his dad raised his hand, interrupting him. Stiles was thoroughly confused now.
“Stiles. Do you have a crush on Scott McCall?”
“What?!” Stiles jumped up from his chair. He felt his cheeks burning red.
“If you do, I’m completely fine with that-”
“Dad!”
“-and I completely support you two. My brother actually married a man-”
“Dad!” Stiles yelled, “No!” He fell back in his chair, and took a deep breath.
“Dad, I don’t have a crush on Scott McCall, and I’m not gay. I like girls.” He clarified. But despite his obvious truth-y words, his dad’s eyes narrowed disbelievingly. They stared at each other for a second, and the Sheriff relaxed.
“Alright.” he said, “I trust you.”
Stiles sighed and slumped in the chair (totally not almost falling off it). His dad slapped his knees and stood up.
“I need a drink.” He turned the corner to the kitchen, but peeked his head back around. “Don’t look at anything.”
Stiles raised his hands in innocence. His dad sent him a stern look, and left.
Stiles sat still for a second, straining his ears to hear if his dad was close. He didn’t hear anything, so he stood from his chair and rounded the table to sit in his dad’s. He quickly fumbled through the dozens of files covering the table. He found a folder with pictures, and spread them out over the table.
What were those? They looked like burned chick- Hold on, are those people?! He looked at the case file. Two bodies found in the Beacon Hills Preserve, completely burned to a crisp. But strangely no burn marks or evidence of a fire in the surrounding area.
What did this mean? Did this have anything to do with the woman on fire Scott and him were looking for? How did Scott know about this?
Stiles was so confused, he didn’t hear the footsteps nearing him.
“Stiles!”
-
“Scott- Yeah, it’s Stiles. I need to- No, yeah, I’m alright. Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Stiles took a deep breath. “How did you know about the bodies?”
Scott was silent for a moment. “How did you know about the bodies?”
“I’m the Sheriff’s son, you idiot. Of course I know about the bodies!”
“Oh, right.”
“How did you know?”
“Uh… I was at work, the vet, when a boy came in. He was all panicked and scared. He told me his mom was burned by a lady in flames. I brought him to the police station.”
“...A lady in flames.”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you still looking into this? You brought him to the cops, right?”
“I- uh… I guess I’m just- uh… curious?”
“...Are- Are you asking me?”
“...No?”
-
January first was a difficult day for the Stilinski’s. It was the day Claudia Stilinski died after fighting a long battle against frontotemporal dementia. It was the day the skies just seemed a little bit more grey. It was the day Stiles always skipped school.
It was the day Stiles and his dad visit her grave.
They never buy a big bouquet (because grave-flower-robbing thieves). but this time Stiles picked a wildflower from the backyard.
The cemetery was almost completely empty, except for an old man he recognized as a widower. He was probably visiting his wife.
Stiles laid the flower on the grave. They stood silently.
A phone rang. It was his dad’s.
“Yeah? Another? Ehm- alright. Yeah.” His dad hung up and gave Stiles an apologizing look.
“Go, dad.” Stiles waved him away, “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
With that, Stiles was left alone with his mom, a dozen dead people and a random old man.
-
His dad was only gone for a few minutes when Stiles heard a scream. The high pitched wail send shivers down his spine. He searched the cemetery for the source, but he didn’t see anyone except for the old man.
Wait. The man. He turned around and saw the man illuminated by a fire. No, by a woman on fire.
“Oh my-” the man started, but was interrupted by another horrifying scream.
“Help me!” the woman screamed. The flames danced around her dangerously. Her aged face looked gaunt en dead. The man rushed forward to aid.
“No!” Stiles screamed, but it was too late.
The woman grabbed the man and drew him close, her flames swallowing him. The screams were horrifying, bursting with agony. Stiles couldn’t move if he wanted to, he was frozen in fear.
The screaming stopped, and a black corpse fell on the ground.
The woman was looking right at Stiles.
-
“Dad, pick up, pick up. C’mon!” Stiles was speeding through Beacon Hills. He managed to escape to his jeep before the woman roasted him too. He was trying to call his dad, but he wasn’t answering.
He pulled into his driveway and scrambled out of the jeep to flee home. He automatically ran up to his room, and slammed the door shut. What the hell just happened?!
He was pacing around his room, shaking from adrenaline. What does he do now? His world was falling apart and he was freaking out.
Who was that woman? Why was she on fire? Why wasn’t she already dead? How did she burn that man? Why was Scott looking for her? How much did he know?
Was she gone now?
Stiles needed to go back.
He jumped in his jeep again and drove (much less dangerously this time) to the cemetery. The man’s corpse was still lying there, lifeless. But the fire-lady was gone. Stiles moved closer. The ground around the man showed no signs of fire. No scorch marks, no ashes, no burnt grass. Nothing.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and called the first person that came to mind. After a second of ringing a voice spoke.
“Stiles?”
“Scott.”
-
He didn’t know why he called Scott first, but something was telling him he needed to. There was a reason Scott and his friends were always at crime scenes or surrounded by general weirdness. Maybe this is that reason.
When he arrived, he wasn’t alone. Malia Tate and Lydia Martin flanked him naturally. They went straight to the body, but Scott approached Stiles first.
“Stiles, are you alright?” Scott had his hand on Stiles’ arm, and Stiles felt his worry fade away a bit. He nodded.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” And he was. Scott smiled reassuringly.
“Good.” His dark eyes looked almost golden in the sun. “Now, tell me what you saw.”
-
“I can help!”
“Stiles, we can handle this.”
“I was the one who saw the woman!”
“Yeah, I know. But we can handle this.” Scott said, “This isn't the first ti-”
Scott stopped himself and brushed a hand through his hair. He sighed.
“You should go home.” he continued, “Go home, and call your dad.”
Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Scott’s eyes stopped him.
“Fine.”
-
“Dad.”
“Stiles, I’m kind of busy right now.” his dad replied, “A third body was found, and this time we have a witness.”
“Dad, I-”
“I will probably be home by noon, but if anything comes up I’ll call you.”
“Dad!” His dad stopped talking. “I saw her too. The woman on fire. At the cemetery.”
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. But that man who was there too is- The woman, she screamed, and- She-”
“Stiles, calm down. I’ll be there, alright? You’ll be fine.”
“Alright.”
-
After he hung up, he immediately jumped behind his desk and opened his laptop.
Woman on fire
Old woman burning man
Magical fire woman
Magical flame lady
I’m losing my mind
After clicking hundreds of links he ended up on Wikipedia. Will-o’-the-wisp? He scanned the page, heart beating so loudly he feared his neighbours could hear it.
He needed to call Scott.
-
“Why is nobody picking up?!” Stiles almost threw his phone in frustration. He’d been trying for the past ten minutes, but the universe hated him and Scott didn’t answer. If Scott was going after the woman, he needed to know this.
He tried again, and thank any phone-gods, because Scott picked up. Stiles held the phone against his ear and started talking.
“Scott! I found what it is! You need to listen to me or you’ll die.”
“Stiles? What is it?” Scott replied. Stiles ignored the groans from the background and a voice saying something like we’re getting close.
“Do you know the Will-o’-the-wisp?” Stiles didn’t wait for an answer. “They’re myths about a ghostly blue light or fire appearing in forests in the middle of the night, luring travellers to their deaths. They’re probably just gasses or something, but that’s the European myth. There’s also a Colombian myth about the same thing, but slightly different.”
“Go on.”
“It’s called the Candileja. She was like an old grandmother, right? And she had to take care of her grandchildren. But she didn’t, so they grew up into thieves and murderers. As a punishment for neglecting her duties, she was cursed to walk around the forest forever, get this, surrounded by flames. She lures people into trying to help her, and she burns them to death.”
“Stiles, that’s great- Lydia!” Something was happening. Something bad. Stiles heard screaming and roaring.
“Scott! Don’t touch her!” No answer. “Do not touch her! Scott!”
The sound of a phone dropped onto wood sounded. The call ended.
-
No need to panic. Everything is fine. Scott’s fine. He’ll be okay. He just needs to fight a flame lady without touching her, and he doesn’t even know he can’t.
Okay, maybe he’s not fine. Stiles has to help. He jumps into his jeep. They’re probably in the preserve. He just needs to get there and save them. Solid plan, right?
Turns out; no. It’s not. Stiles parked his jeep at the entrance of the preserve, and is standing before the sign saying ‘No entry after dark’ (which he’ll completely ignore). He knew Scott was in the preserve. But he had no idea where.
“Think, Stiles.” he whispered to himself. Where could he be? Think back to the call. He didn’t hear anything weird in the environment. Then Scott’d dropped the phone. On wood. Wood? Did he drop it on a branch? That wouldn’t make a sound like that. And the only wooden floor Stiles could think of was-
The Hale house.
Stiles jumped back in his jeep. “Don’t worry, Scott. I’m coming.”
-
He heard the screams before he saw the house. The all too familiar fire lady scream, but also another? It wasn’t an ordinary scream if he could hear it all the way from here. Stiles parked the jeep and rushed out. He was on his way to the house when he stopped. If you can't touch the fire...
A wolf-like roar joined the strangely loud screams. It resonated in his chest, and somehow he knew. “Scott…”
He rounded to the back of his jeep and opened the trunk. Although the jeep was a masterpiece, a work of art, Stiles had to admit it had some problems. One of those problems was spontaneous combustion. So he always kept a fire extinguisher in his trunk. He grabbed it and ran.
He ran to the house, which was completely burnt down and on the verge of collapse, but the threat of death has never stopped him before. The door was already hanging of it’s hinges, so no need to knock.
What he saw inside left him frozen to the floor.
The Candileja stood in the middle of the living room, burning brighter than ever. Scott and his friends surrounded her. Even Derek Hale was there. Was he still living here? But the weird part was the glowing eyes. Claws extended from fingertips. Fangs poking through dangerously.
Okay. Alright. Glowing eyes. Sure. Whatever, he needed to save Scott first. He’ll deal with this (freak out) later.
“Don’t touch the fire!” he yelled. Heads whipped around, startled with his sudden appearance. Stiles ignored Scott’s blood red gaze, and threw his fire extinguisher.
He aimed it at the Candileja and fired. White foam spouted from the mouth, engulfing her and putting out her flames. Once she was lying on the ground, fire-free, he let go of the extinguisher and faced the glowing eyes.
“Now.”
They pounced. Slashes, bites and Lydia screaming (???). The Candileja was trying to burn, but the foam that covered her made it impossible. She screamed again, but this time genuinely.
Scott roared, and jumped in the air. He brought his claws down on her chest, and it stopped. Everybody stood silently, and Scott breathed.
The Candileja screamed one last time, and her body started crumbling. Smoke emerged from the gray pieces. She turned to ash. Scott took a step back, and a gust of wind took the ashes and flew out of the broken windows.
“Is it gone?” Malia asked, breaking the silence. Stiles shook his head.
“For now, she’ll probably return to her weird fire-lady body in a while,” he said, “but I have a feeling she’ll be too scared to ever show up here again.”
Bodies relaxed, and shoulders slumped. Lydia took Malia’s hand for comfort. Were they a thing? Stiles' vision started to turn dark.
“Well, I guess now’s the time to freak out.” Stiles said, swaying a bit.
Then everything went black.
-
Stiles apparently passed out, because he woke up in Scott’s living room, surrounded by worried faces. Derek Hale was luckily absent, that guy gave him the creeps. But Scott, Malia and Lydia were sitting close. Stiles stirred, and Malia and Scott’s faces turned to him.
“Stiles?” Scott said. He rushed to his side and kneeled down besides the couch. “You okay?”
“I think so?” he replied, still a bit confused. But Scott gave him his lopsided grin, which made him feel even better than ever.
-
“You need to tell me how you knew where we were.”
“And you need to tell me why your eyes were freaking glowing.”
Stiles and Scott were sitting in the booth of a small diner, enjoying a delicious batch of curly fries. Stiles dipped his fry in his milkshake, and Scott looked disgusted at him. Stiles shrugged his shoulders and Scott smiled.
“This is gonna sound crazy.” Scott said. Stiles raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean it. You’re gonna think I’m insane.”
“Try me.” Stiles winked. Scott chuckled.
“Werewolves.” he stated.
“...Werewolves?” Stiles repeated incredulously. Scott huffed.
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” Stiles took another fry.
“Alright?!” Now it was Scott’s turn to be confused.
“Yeah, I mean, an old woman on fire? Glowing eyes? Supersonic screams?” Stiles shrugged, “I’ll believe anything at this point.”
“How about banshees?”
“That’s Lydia, right?”
“And lizard monsters with paralyzing tails?”
“Sure.”
“Murderous psychopathic alpha werewolves?”
“Perfectly believable.” Stiles said, and Scott fell back against the soft cushion of the booth. Scott took a hand through his hair, and Stiles felt really giddy for some reason. "Especially with all the weirdness."
"Weirdness?" Scott tilted his head in confusion, and the similarity to a puppy has never been stronger.
"Y'know? The weirdness surrounding you and your friends?" Stiles said, but Scott still didn't comprehend. "I think I'm the only one who noticed, so you don't have to worry. But I always thought something weird was going on with you and your friends. Showing up at crime scenes, skipping school, just... general weirdness."
"General weirdness?" Scott chuckled.
"Laugh all you want, turned out I was right." Stiles smiled, "Although I never expected werewolves."
“Well then, how about you tell me your perspective then?” Scott said finally. Stiles’d already told the gist of it, but Scott wanted to know everything of course. So Stiles told him.
“Seriously, we’ve been searching for weeks to find out what myth that woman was, and you find it in half an hour?” Scott said. Their milkshakes were empty and their curly fries gone. The waitress was shooting them annoyed looks, so they grabbed their stuff and left.
“What can I say? I’m the sheriff’s son.” Stiles shrugged. Scott smiled.
“Yeah, alright, detective Stilinski.” he chuckled, “Now you know all the secrets, I suppose I can’t stop you from wanting to help again?”
Was that an invitation? To join his friend group? To be Scott’s friend?
“You bet your ass you can’t.” Stiles said, “Who else is going to tell you you’re an idiot?”
Scott’s lopsided grin was the only sign Stiles needed to know it was the start of a beautifully idiotic friendship. Scott patted him on his shoulder.
“See you later, Stiles.”
“See you later.”
Scott turned around and stepped on his bike, driving away with a small wave. Only after he was out of sight, Stiles realized his heart was beating like crazy. He rushed to his jeep. Once he was sitting behind the wheel, he called his dad.
“Stiles?”
“Dad. I think I do have a crush on Scott McCall.”