[Teen Wolf] Dangerous Things prequel
Nov. 30th, 2012 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rallamajoopTitle:Dangerous Things (chapter 0)
Summary: Medieval AU in which the existence of werewolves, hunters and other such nasties is common knowledge. Stiles and Allison weather Scott's second full moon together.
Characters/Pairing: Scott/Allison, Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2600
Notes: So there is this MASSIVE EPIC RIDICULOUS Derek/Stiles AU thing that I am writing, but can't start posting yet because my plans for this thing have yet to develop to where I'm confident I won't have to go back and rewrite significant chunks of chapter one to make everything fit together. What I have written is a standalone prequel scene, which has very little to do with the main plot (Stiles and Derek have yet to even meet at this point in history) but does flesh out some of the background a bit. This is it.
It's midnight, probably, and the storm that's battered on the tower since sundown isn't showing any great interest in weakening. That shouldn't matter, when Stiles has no inclination to set so much as a toe outside between now and dawn, but tonight it's keeping the hunters cooped up inside as well, when on any other full moon they'd be out hunting now. Tonight, they're only walls away – though at least they're thick ones – a couple of floors too, actually – and the one good thing about the storm is that it's making enough noise to all but drown out the sound Scott's making, even from where Stiles is sitting barely half a room away.
Scott should be fine tonight. He's not exactly lucid, but at least he's staying put. He's not doing anything that should give him away, apart from the growling, and besides, no-one knows they're here. So there's no reason why they wouldn't be fine until morning. Unless someone comes looking for Allison for some reason, and it's not like that's going to happen. It's not like her dad's already suspicious about how much time she's spending with that lowly stableboy McCall, or anything. Yeah, nothing to worry about at all.
Allison's meant to be asleep in her room. Instead, she's curled up in the corner of a storeroom with only a single candle for light and Stiles for company, though Stiles has been keeping his distance. Scott doesn't seem to like it much when he comes any closer.
Scott has his head in Allison's lap and his arms wrapped loosely around her legs. Allison has her hands in his hair; she's been sort of petting him, slow and gentle. He seems to like that. His face is more wolf than human; his eyes glow gold in the candlelight, and even though the growling has quietened down to a low, steady rumble, he hasn't stopped in all the hours they've been down there. Stiles has known cats to purr with similar enthusiasm when they're being petted the way they like, but he's had a while to get used to the noise Scott's making and it's nothing like a purr. There's a rhythm to it that comes and goes like the roaring of the wind outside – and taking that metaphor further, neither have stopped being threatening in all the hours he's been hearing them.
"He's gonna do that all night, isn't he?" Stiles says aloud.
Allison's mouth twitches nervously. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure it's not because of you."
"No," Stiles agrees. "I'm... I'm pretty sure it's because of you, actually. He knows you're scared."
"I'm not scared of him," insists Allison.
Stiles holds up his hands. "I wasn't saying you were, just-"
"I'm scared my father's going to find us," says Allison. "I mean. I'm always scared my father's going to find us. But normally, I don't have to be scared he's going to kill Scott when he does."
Stiles really can't argue with any of that.
"If he'd just calm down and stop growling like this, I could maybe make myself believe we're going to make it, but..." Allison sounds just a little desperate there for a second, and Scott responds with a louder growl that she shushes quickly, curling protectively down over his head.
"And the more you're scared, the more he growls," Stiles concludes. Allison shoots him a dark look, and Stiles sighs. "Look, I get it – it's not your fault you're scared your Dad might find us, and it's not his fault he can't understand why. He just knows something's scaring you, and he wants to puff up and chase it away or rip it up and make you feel safe again. It's actually kind of adorable, in that big were-puppy kind of way."
"I still can't believe he knows me like this," says Allison. Scott noses at her leg and pushes up against her hands. If it wasn't for the growling, Stiles would call him perfectly content.
"That's Scott McCall for you, were-Scott or just regular Scott. Why go out howling at the moon when he could be in here curled around his lady-love? All this wolf-stuff doesn't come naturally to him." Stiles is carefully not thinking about what would have happened to Scott tonight if he didn't have Allison here to ground him. He's been not-thinking it all night. It's only Scott's second full moon, and after his first, Stiles would like to think they've already had enough drama to last them a good few more months yet.
He'd been there to see it when Scott had all but run straight into Allison in the woods – wolfed-out and wild, and Stiles had hardly known what he was even doing out there chasing after him. Allison had had her bow trained on Scott before he knew what was happening; if she hadn't hesitated – god, the whole reason she'd been out there at all was some crazy plan to show her father she was ready for this. But with Scott in her sights she'd frozen, if only for a moment, and in the next it was like he'd recognised her, and she'd recognised him – somehow, even through the wolf-face in the dark – and Stiles still doesn't even know how it happened.
He'd like to believe that even without Allison, Scott would have somehow been okay that night. Right now, he doesn't really care whether or not that's true. Right now, he'll stick to believing that as long as Allison's here, Scott's not going anywhere.
"So I just thought you should know you're taking this really well," he offers.
Allison laughs weakly. "Well," she says, with that obviously-fake confidence that fools exactly no-one, and isn't really meant to, "it's not as though my dad could disapprove of my relationship with Scott any more if he did know he was a werewolf."
"Even so," says Stiles, and means it.
Allison pulls her head up and blinks at the ceiling. Stiles does his best not to notice the shimmer of moisture in her eyes.
"Did I ever tell you what happened to my mother?" she asks.
"Um, no, I don't think you did." Are they sharing personal secrets now, as some bonding under duress kind of thing? Stiles would rather not, but since he's not actually the one with the lap full of werewolf, it stands to reason he's not the one who gets first choice of conversational topics.
"She was bitten," says Allison. "The same way Scott was. Just a few months before we came here."
Stiles mouth suddenly feels very dry. "The bite... killed her?"
"No." She looks him in the eye then and Stiles is caught like that – couldn't have looked away if he wanted to, as Allison says, "She killed herself. As soon as she started to change under the full moon – the moment they knew, before she could be a danger to anyone else, she took her own life. That's what my family does."
Stiles sits there with his mouth hanging open for several seconds before he has to admit that for once in his life, he has absolutely no idea what to say.
"I know," says Allison, quietly. "There are reasons for it. My dad loves to tell stories about what happens if we don't make the sacrifice in time – what he's seen happen to men who used to be his closest friends. We take our own lives if we're bitten so the people who care about us don't have to do it themselves."
"Jesus." Stiles' head thumps dully back against the wall behind him. "Allison, that's... you know Scott-"
"When I started my training," says Allison, like Stiles hadn't spoken at all, "there were all these texts I was supposed to read. Lists of monsters, all their strengths – all their weaknesses, accounts of how our ancestors fought them and won – or lost. I had to understand the theory of everything that was going to be asked of me before I made the decision about whether I was ready to take on that much. One of the books they gave me – one of the histories of our own family – had a chapter called 'The Hunters Code'. It talked about alliances, treaties – all these rules that decide when it becomes our duty to kill them, and when it's our duty not to. It said some of the ones who are turned young or born wolves under a strong alpha never become bloodthirsty. It's our obligation only to hunt the ones that hunt us. If we're less than sure that they've spilled human blood – if we don't have proof – then we don't kill them. This whole code we were honour bound to follow that no-one had ever mentioned to me before."
As Allison speaks she's looking down, away, into the far corner – anywhere but at his face. This is starting to feel like a confession, and Stiles wants to tell her he's the last person she should be confessing to, but then, who else is there she could tell?
"When I asked my aunt Kate about it," says Allison, her face crinkling with old disgust, "she laughed at me – said I should forget all that archaic nonsense. She said no-one has to keep treaties with the wolves anymore; they're the ones who have to fear us now. When I asked my dad, he told me, yes, we used to follow the code, but these days, we're at war. Not just with the wolves, the whole country is at war, and we've already lost so many good hunters to the front lines and there are so few of us left to protect the common man. We don't have the freedom to take those risks anymore. We can't wait for them to kill before we make our judgement. We can't allow ourselves to doubt – even for a second – because hesitation is what gets us killed. He said this is the only way we can keep the innocent safe. He sounded just a little sorry, but... you know my dad."
"He's always sure," finishes Stiles. Oh yeah, he knows Chris.
"He and Kate both promised me that when I'd seen what it was like out there for myself, I'd understand. They made sure I knew that if I couldn't cope with it, then I was never cut out to be a hunter to begin with." She takes a shaky breath. "And that's okay, you know Allison. She's not bad with the bow, but she's so sweet and she's so pretty and she's just a girl, and everyone knows not every girl from the Argent family can be as tough as her Aunt Kate. Sure there's a war, and we're hurting for every hand we can find, but no-one's going to make Allison be a hunter. She could make a good marriage and make some young man very happy, and raise her sons to follow the family line. What's she got to prove?"
Stiles is aware of his mouth hanging open again. "They said – they didn't actually say – I mean-"
Allison shuts him up with a look. "When I read about the code, I thought to myself, they're right: I don't understand, but if I run from this, I'm never going to understand. And I needed to." Her eyes are way past just glistening, there are tears trailing down both cheeks now, but she's ignoring them, stubbornly refusing to make any move to wipe them away. "When my mother died, I thought, wherever she is now, if she's watching me – if she sees me hesitate even once, where she didn't – how could I make her see something like that? They have to be right, the code has to be wrong, because otherwise my mother died for nothing."
"There've got to be worse reasons to become a hunter, right?" Stiles tries, though out loud that sounds so awful he's quietly glad when she just pushes on like he'd said nothing.
"On the first full moon," Allison goes on, "when I went out to prove to myself I could do this... I ran into Scott."
"And you hesitated," Stiles supplies, because one of them has to.
"That was my moment – this was my big test – and I failed it. I know what happens when we fail. I looked at Scott, and I knew it was him, but in that moment I just couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Then when he should have leapt at me, he just..."
"Kinda collapsed into your arms, I know – I was there, remember?" Stiles gives her a weak smile, and Allison finally returns it and seems to shake herself a little.
"It's not like it was all bad. I got what I was asking for that night – I got my answer. The code is right. My family are the ones who let fear overrule their better judgement. Someday I'm going to make them see that," she looks Stiles right in the eye again, nodding through her tears; the line of her neck is as firm as he's ever seen it. "I'm going to show them. All of them."
There and then, hiding in a storeroom in a storm with only each other and a young werewolf who could tear them both apart, Stiles is suddenly scared because she will. She'll wait, she'll bide her time for the right moment, but she won't wait forever and she'll do it, even if she goes down trying. Maybe even if she takes all of them down with her. He doesn't notice it every day, but there's some Argent in Allison after all.
"Allison," he offers, "anyone who ever called you too weak for this is – is I don't even know what is wrong with them."
Allison gives him another weak smile, and she's back to ducking her head again, confidence worn through for the evening. "Thank you."
"Hey, don't thank me. Just stating a fact." That gets him another smile, still pretty weak, but it's something. She knows he's not just saying that. She does, right?
"Allison." The voice comes from Scott. It's low and rumbly – it sounds like he's waking out of centuries of sleep, but under all of that it's still Scott.
"Scott?" says Allison, disbelieving.
Scott's eyelids dip under the sound of her voice, then his nostrils flare. "Stiles?"
"Over here, buddy. Nice of you to join us back in the world of the vocal."
"Safe?" Scott's still wolfed out completely, there's no missing that, but that was a whole coherent question.
"Sure, we're safe. Well, Allison's a little nervy about her dad bursting in on you guys, but you know, business as normal."
"We're safe, Scott," Allison whispers.
There's a rumble from Scott that might have been, "Good," and then he seems to go to sleep in Allison's lap.
Allison laughs in quiet relief. Stiles lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That went well. Maybe next time we can teach him to sit up and fetch."
Scott makes a noise that could be a snore but sounds awfully like a growl.
"Okay, maybe not. I can't wait for you to be human enough again to have your sense of humour back."
Scott snorts at him.
"Same to you, buddy!"
"Stiles," Allison warns.
"Sorry, I was just-"
"Stiles," Scott growls, then, surprisingly clearly, "a little privacy?"
Stiles stares at him. Allison looks faintly smug. "I think he wants me to scratch his tummy."
"I'm gone," Stiles assures them, and hurries out.
Sheesh. See if he sticks around to keep Allison company next full moon.
Summary: Medieval AU in which the existence of werewolves, hunters and other such nasties is common knowledge. Stiles and Allison weather Scott's second full moon together.
Characters/Pairing: Scott/Allison, Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2600
Notes: So there is this MASSIVE EPIC RIDICULOUS Derek/Stiles AU thing that I am writing, but can't start posting yet because my plans for this thing have yet to develop to where I'm confident I won't have to go back and rewrite significant chunks of chapter one to make everything fit together. What I have written is a standalone prequel scene, which has very little to do with the main plot (Stiles and Derek have yet to even meet at this point in history) but does flesh out some of the background a bit. This is it.
It's midnight, probably, and the storm that's battered on the tower since sundown isn't showing any great interest in weakening. That shouldn't matter, when Stiles has no inclination to set so much as a toe outside between now and dawn, but tonight it's keeping the hunters cooped up inside as well, when on any other full moon they'd be out hunting now. Tonight, they're only walls away – though at least they're thick ones – a couple of floors too, actually – and the one good thing about the storm is that it's making enough noise to all but drown out the sound Scott's making, even from where Stiles is sitting barely half a room away.
Scott should be fine tonight. He's not exactly lucid, but at least he's staying put. He's not doing anything that should give him away, apart from the growling, and besides, no-one knows they're here. So there's no reason why they wouldn't be fine until morning. Unless someone comes looking for Allison for some reason, and it's not like that's going to happen. It's not like her dad's already suspicious about how much time she's spending with that lowly stableboy McCall, or anything. Yeah, nothing to worry about at all.
Allison's meant to be asleep in her room. Instead, she's curled up in the corner of a storeroom with only a single candle for light and Stiles for company, though Stiles has been keeping his distance. Scott doesn't seem to like it much when he comes any closer.
Scott has his head in Allison's lap and his arms wrapped loosely around her legs. Allison has her hands in his hair; she's been sort of petting him, slow and gentle. He seems to like that. His face is more wolf than human; his eyes glow gold in the candlelight, and even though the growling has quietened down to a low, steady rumble, he hasn't stopped in all the hours they've been down there. Stiles has known cats to purr with similar enthusiasm when they're being petted the way they like, but he's had a while to get used to the noise Scott's making and it's nothing like a purr. There's a rhythm to it that comes and goes like the roaring of the wind outside – and taking that metaphor further, neither have stopped being threatening in all the hours he's been hearing them.
"He's gonna do that all night, isn't he?" Stiles says aloud.
Allison's mouth twitches nervously. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure it's not because of you."
"No," Stiles agrees. "I'm... I'm pretty sure it's because of you, actually. He knows you're scared."
"I'm not scared of him," insists Allison.
Stiles holds up his hands. "I wasn't saying you were, just-"
"I'm scared my father's going to find us," says Allison. "I mean. I'm always scared my father's going to find us. But normally, I don't have to be scared he's going to kill Scott when he does."
Stiles really can't argue with any of that.
"If he'd just calm down and stop growling like this, I could maybe make myself believe we're going to make it, but..." Allison sounds just a little desperate there for a second, and Scott responds with a louder growl that she shushes quickly, curling protectively down over his head.
"And the more you're scared, the more he growls," Stiles concludes. Allison shoots him a dark look, and Stiles sighs. "Look, I get it – it's not your fault you're scared your Dad might find us, and it's not his fault he can't understand why. He just knows something's scaring you, and he wants to puff up and chase it away or rip it up and make you feel safe again. It's actually kind of adorable, in that big were-puppy kind of way."
"I still can't believe he knows me like this," says Allison. Scott noses at her leg and pushes up against her hands. If it wasn't for the growling, Stiles would call him perfectly content.
"That's Scott McCall for you, were-Scott or just regular Scott. Why go out howling at the moon when he could be in here curled around his lady-love? All this wolf-stuff doesn't come naturally to him." Stiles is carefully not thinking about what would have happened to Scott tonight if he didn't have Allison here to ground him. He's been not-thinking it all night. It's only Scott's second full moon, and after his first, Stiles would like to think they've already had enough drama to last them a good few more months yet.
He'd been there to see it when Scott had all but run straight into Allison in the woods – wolfed-out and wild, and Stiles had hardly known what he was even doing out there chasing after him. Allison had had her bow trained on Scott before he knew what was happening; if she hadn't hesitated – god, the whole reason she'd been out there at all was some crazy plan to show her father she was ready for this. But with Scott in her sights she'd frozen, if only for a moment, and in the next it was like he'd recognised her, and she'd recognised him – somehow, even through the wolf-face in the dark – and Stiles still doesn't even know how it happened.
He'd like to believe that even without Allison, Scott would have somehow been okay that night. Right now, he doesn't really care whether or not that's true. Right now, he'll stick to believing that as long as Allison's here, Scott's not going anywhere.
"So I just thought you should know you're taking this really well," he offers.
Allison laughs weakly. "Well," she says, with that obviously-fake confidence that fools exactly no-one, and isn't really meant to, "it's not as though my dad could disapprove of my relationship with Scott any more if he did know he was a werewolf."
"Even so," says Stiles, and means it.
Allison pulls her head up and blinks at the ceiling. Stiles does his best not to notice the shimmer of moisture in her eyes.
"Did I ever tell you what happened to my mother?" she asks.
"Um, no, I don't think you did." Are they sharing personal secrets now, as some bonding under duress kind of thing? Stiles would rather not, but since he's not actually the one with the lap full of werewolf, it stands to reason he's not the one who gets first choice of conversational topics.
"She was bitten," says Allison. "The same way Scott was. Just a few months before we came here."
Stiles mouth suddenly feels very dry. "The bite... killed her?"
"No." She looks him in the eye then and Stiles is caught like that – couldn't have looked away if he wanted to, as Allison says, "She killed herself. As soon as she started to change under the full moon – the moment they knew, before she could be a danger to anyone else, she took her own life. That's what my family does."
Stiles sits there with his mouth hanging open for several seconds before he has to admit that for once in his life, he has absolutely no idea what to say.
"I know," says Allison, quietly. "There are reasons for it. My dad loves to tell stories about what happens if we don't make the sacrifice in time – what he's seen happen to men who used to be his closest friends. We take our own lives if we're bitten so the people who care about us don't have to do it themselves."
"Jesus." Stiles' head thumps dully back against the wall behind him. "Allison, that's... you know Scott-"
"When I started my training," says Allison, like Stiles hadn't spoken at all, "there were all these texts I was supposed to read. Lists of monsters, all their strengths – all their weaknesses, accounts of how our ancestors fought them and won – or lost. I had to understand the theory of everything that was going to be asked of me before I made the decision about whether I was ready to take on that much. One of the books they gave me – one of the histories of our own family – had a chapter called 'The Hunters Code'. It talked about alliances, treaties – all these rules that decide when it becomes our duty to kill them, and when it's our duty not to. It said some of the ones who are turned young or born wolves under a strong alpha never become bloodthirsty. It's our obligation only to hunt the ones that hunt us. If we're less than sure that they've spilled human blood – if we don't have proof – then we don't kill them. This whole code we were honour bound to follow that no-one had ever mentioned to me before."
As Allison speaks she's looking down, away, into the far corner – anywhere but at his face. This is starting to feel like a confession, and Stiles wants to tell her he's the last person she should be confessing to, but then, who else is there she could tell?
"When I asked my aunt Kate about it," says Allison, her face crinkling with old disgust, "she laughed at me – said I should forget all that archaic nonsense. She said no-one has to keep treaties with the wolves anymore; they're the ones who have to fear us now. When I asked my dad, he told me, yes, we used to follow the code, but these days, we're at war. Not just with the wolves, the whole country is at war, and we've already lost so many good hunters to the front lines and there are so few of us left to protect the common man. We don't have the freedom to take those risks anymore. We can't wait for them to kill before we make our judgement. We can't allow ourselves to doubt – even for a second – because hesitation is what gets us killed. He said this is the only way we can keep the innocent safe. He sounded just a little sorry, but... you know my dad."
"He's always sure," finishes Stiles. Oh yeah, he knows Chris.
"He and Kate both promised me that when I'd seen what it was like out there for myself, I'd understand. They made sure I knew that if I couldn't cope with it, then I was never cut out to be a hunter to begin with." She takes a shaky breath. "And that's okay, you know Allison. She's not bad with the bow, but she's so sweet and she's so pretty and she's just a girl, and everyone knows not every girl from the Argent family can be as tough as her Aunt Kate. Sure there's a war, and we're hurting for every hand we can find, but no-one's going to make Allison be a hunter. She could make a good marriage and make some young man very happy, and raise her sons to follow the family line. What's she got to prove?"
Stiles is aware of his mouth hanging open again. "They said – they didn't actually say – I mean-"
Allison shuts him up with a look. "When I read about the code, I thought to myself, they're right: I don't understand, but if I run from this, I'm never going to understand. And I needed to." Her eyes are way past just glistening, there are tears trailing down both cheeks now, but she's ignoring them, stubbornly refusing to make any move to wipe them away. "When my mother died, I thought, wherever she is now, if she's watching me – if she sees me hesitate even once, where she didn't – how could I make her see something like that? They have to be right, the code has to be wrong, because otherwise my mother died for nothing."
"There've got to be worse reasons to become a hunter, right?" Stiles tries, though out loud that sounds so awful he's quietly glad when she just pushes on like he'd said nothing.
"On the first full moon," Allison goes on, "when I went out to prove to myself I could do this... I ran into Scott."
"And you hesitated," Stiles supplies, because one of them has to.
"That was my moment – this was my big test – and I failed it. I know what happens when we fail. I looked at Scott, and I knew it was him, but in that moment I just couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Then when he should have leapt at me, he just..."
"Kinda collapsed into your arms, I know – I was there, remember?" Stiles gives her a weak smile, and Allison finally returns it and seems to shake herself a little.
"It's not like it was all bad. I got what I was asking for that night – I got my answer. The code is right. My family are the ones who let fear overrule their better judgement. Someday I'm going to make them see that," she looks Stiles right in the eye again, nodding through her tears; the line of her neck is as firm as he's ever seen it. "I'm going to show them. All of them."
There and then, hiding in a storeroom in a storm with only each other and a young werewolf who could tear them both apart, Stiles is suddenly scared because she will. She'll wait, she'll bide her time for the right moment, but she won't wait forever and she'll do it, even if she goes down trying. Maybe even if she takes all of them down with her. He doesn't notice it every day, but there's some Argent in Allison after all.
"Allison," he offers, "anyone who ever called you too weak for this is – is I don't even know what is wrong with them."
Allison gives him another weak smile, and she's back to ducking her head again, confidence worn through for the evening. "Thank you."
"Hey, don't thank me. Just stating a fact." That gets him another smile, still pretty weak, but it's something. She knows he's not just saying that. She does, right?
"Allison." The voice comes from Scott. It's low and rumbly – it sounds like he's waking out of centuries of sleep, but under all of that it's still Scott.
"Scott?" says Allison, disbelieving.
Scott's eyelids dip under the sound of her voice, then his nostrils flare. "Stiles?"
"Over here, buddy. Nice of you to join us back in the world of the vocal."
"Safe?" Scott's still wolfed out completely, there's no missing that, but that was a whole coherent question.
"Sure, we're safe. Well, Allison's a little nervy about her dad bursting in on you guys, but you know, business as normal."
"We're safe, Scott," Allison whispers.
There's a rumble from Scott that might have been, "Good," and then he seems to go to sleep in Allison's lap.
Allison laughs in quiet relief. Stiles lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That went well. Maybe next time we can teach him to sit up and fetch."
Scott makes a noise that could be a snore but sounds awfully like a growl.
"Okay, maybe not. I can't wait for you to be human enough again to have your sense of humour back."
Scott snorts at him.
"Same to you, buddy!"
"Stiles," Allison warns.
"Sorry, I was just-"
"Stiles," Scott growls, then, surprisingly clearly, "a little privacy?"
Stiles stares at him. Allison looks faintly smug. "I think he wants me to scratch his tummy."
"I'm gone," Stiles assures them, and hurries out.
Sheesh. See if he sticks around to keep Allison company next full moon.
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Date: 2012-11-29 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 02:45 pm (UTC)