Title: “Dude, no!”
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: pre Stiles/Derek
Word Count: 2,068
Summary: False accusations of murder are bad. Stiles says something.
Authors Note: Set during S1E7 Night School. There is less than 100 words of dialogue lifted from the transcript.
“Derek killed the janitor?”
Allison blinked. “Are you sure?”
Scott’s confidence increased. “I saw him.”
“Dude, no!” Stiles finally got his wits together and interrupted Scott’s attempt to blame everything that had been happening on Derek Hale. “You absolutely did not see him. You know perfectly well that Derek isn’t responsible! I can’t believe you!”
Scott glared at him. “It has to be Derek,” he insisted. “Who else could it be?”
Stiles sometimes wondered what the hell was going on in Scott’s head. Sure, this whole werewolf thing was a bit of a curveball, but this…was not okay. He folded his arms across his chest. “Deaton, maybe? Deaton could be working with the murderer, I don’t know. Considering that we last saw Derek being brutally attacked, and used the distraction to make our escape, don’t you think that trying to accuse him of murder again is just a little bit ungrateful?”
“It’s not Deaton!” Scott insisted. “Stop saying that it might be! Derek’s probably dead, so it won’t matter what people think. Why do you care, anyway? You don’t even like Derek!”
Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “You don’t just accuse people of murder because you don’t like them, Scott! Not only is it morally wrong, but it’s also stupid! There is a serial killer out there! We’re all in terrible danger! If you purposefully point the finger at the wrong person, then you’re obstructing justice and helping the real killer get away!”
“I don’t know how else I can explain this, Stiles!”
“Then don’t!” Stiles shouted, throwing his hands up. “Just don’t muddy the waters by making intentionally false accusations!”
Scott’s jaw was jutting out stubbornly.
“You lied.” Allison was staring at Scott as though she’d never seen him before. “Our lives are in danger, and you deliberately lied about it.”
“I want to know what’s going on,” Lydia snapped. “Right now.”
“We’re being chased by something that wants to kill us,” Stiles snapped back. “Scott thought that we could bring it out into the open by using the school PA system.”
“The thing with the red eyes.” Jackson sounded spooked. “We should call the cops.”
Stiles responded instantly. “No.”
Jackson looked taken aback. “Wh-what do you mean, “no?””
“I mean, no. You wanna hear it in Spanish?” Stiles put on a Spanish accent. “No. Look, the killer’s killed three people, okay? We don’t know what he’s armed with. The only thing calling the cops will achieve, is dead cops.”
Naturally, Lydia ignored him and called the cops anyway. Stiles wasn’t sorry when she was hung up on, having been accused of being a prank caller.
“Okay, ass-heads!” Jackson announced. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?”
Scott winced and looked at Stiles. “He’s right. Tell him the truth if you have to. Just…just call him.”
“What truth?” Lydia asked sharply.
“I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive,” Stiles said to Scott, ignoring Lydia. “Think of a better plan. One that doesn’t involve me being orphaned.”
“Why do I have to think of a plan?” Scott grumbled.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “It was your plan that got us into this mess. What was the point, anyway? I was never entirely clear.”
“Wait,” Lydia ordered. “There’s a lot more going on than you’ve told us. I want to know what’s happening.”
Stiles flicked a glance her way but otherwise continued to ignore her, waiting for Scott’s explanation.
Scott looked slightly sheepish. “I wanted to prove to Derek that Deaton wasn’t…you know, the killer.”
Stiles made a game show buzzer noise. “Well, that failed miserably. If anything, you’ve provided more proof that it is Deaton.”
“Deaton?” Allison said worriedly. “You mean the vet? Your boss? He’s the killer?”
“He might be the killer,” Stiles corrected. “We don’t have any proof that he is, but then we don’t have any proof that he’s not.”
“It’s not Deaton!” Scott shouted at the same time.
“Right,” Stiles said sarcastically. “He happened to disappear moments before the Alpha turned up and skewered Derek, but it can’t be him.”
“Alpha?” Lydia was starting to sound shrill. “What does that mean?”
“It’s what we call the killer when he’s in costume,” Stiles replied. “You’ve seen him. Red eyes, etc.”
“How long are we going to sit here waiting to be attacked?” Jackson asked, rubbing his neck. “We need to do something!”
Stiles looked at him for a moment. “Agreed. In the absence of anything better to do, I’m going to go and see if Derek survived.”
“You’ll be killed!” Scott objected. “The killer’s still out there!”
“I’m counting on him to be too focused on the three of you to pay me any mind,” Stiles explained. “I’m not really a threat to him, after all. You guys stay here and act scared to keep his attention. I’ll be back when I’ve checked on Derek.”
“Are you forgetting that he killed the janitor?”
“I’m remembering that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t called him here!” Stiles exploded. “I’m going to check on Derek. I’ll get his keys and bring his car around to the parking lot down there. When you see me, you should all go head up to the roof and then down the fire escape.”
“There’s a dead-bolt,” Scott reminded him.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Break the door down. I know you want to keep your secret, but is keeping it worth her life? Now, move some of this stuff so I can get out the door.”
“He’s gonna kill you,” Scott said. “What am I supposed to tell your dad?”
Stiles paused from unstacking the chairs. “Tell him…tell him I chose. The parting hour sucks.”
Stiles wasn’t quite as fearless as he’d tried to appear in front of the others. His reasons weren’t quite as noble as he’d made out, either.
He did want to check on Derek. Despite some of the things he said to Scott, Stiles appreciated that Derek was at least trying to help. It wasn’t his fault he was such a failwolf. If only he wasn’t quite so creepy.
It had been easy—suggesting Derek could be left to die—when it was just him and Scott. He knew that Scott—with his bleeding heart and his desire to be the hero—would never go through with it.
But then Scott had unapologetically thrown Derek under the bus by naming him as a serial killer. That had been a surprise—an unwelcome one. If Scott couldn’t be trusted to make the ethical, moral choices, then Stiles was going to have to step up his game. Which sucked ass. Stiles hated having to be the good one. Give him the middle ground any day of the week.
Stiles arrived in time to see Derek drag himself up off the ground. “Oh god, you’re okay! We thought you were dead! Wait, are you okay?”
Derek grunted, scowling, and raised a shaky hand to swipe at the blood on his chin. “Do I look okay to you?”
“No,” Stiles admitted. “You look a hell of a lot better than you did earlier this evening. You know what I mean. You’re not going to die?”
Derek shook his head. “The Alpha doesn’t want me dead.” His scowl deepened. “What are you doing out here? I thought you ran!”
Stiles explained what had been happening, finishing with, “I knew that if I stayed there, they were going to keep on at me to call my dad. That’s why I found a reason to leave. Which was you. Checking on you, I mean.”
“Thank you,” Derek said stiffly.
“You didn’t need my help,” Stiles pointed out. “In another few minutes, you would have got yourself out of here.”
“Not for coming back,” Derek said, looking pained. “For not agreeing with Scott that I was a serial killer. It would have made things easier, and you thought I was dead.”
Stiles snorted. “You think? If you were dead, then who exactly was chasing us through the school? It was a stupid lie, as well as a dishonourable one.”
Derek lifted his head. “I thought you didn’t call your father. I can hear sirens coming. At least three vehicles, probably more. I have to go. Help me get into the car.”
Stiles frowned. “We might have tripped some alarm, or Lydia might have tried calling again. But I would have expected a single patrol car if that was the case.” He twitched. “The Alpha’s still around. They could be walking into a trap.”
Derek shook his head. “No. We know he’s smart, cunning. Too smart to screw things up by getting law enforcement personally involved. As soon as he kills a cop, the playing field changes. He won’t risk it.”
“So, I could have called my dad.”
“On this occasion, yes.”
Stiles sighed. “See, this is why we need to work together.” He watched with some concern as Derek got slowly to his feet. “Did you get a definitive answer on whether Deaton is the Alpha?”
“No.” Derek shook his head and leaned against his car, visibly gathering strength. “I know he’s lying to me. He lies a lot. It doesn’t mean he’s the Alpha, but…”
“But you know he can’t be trusted,” Stiles said, nodding.
It occurred to him that Derek didn’t really have anyone he could trust. His sister was dead, his uncle was in a coma. The closest thing Derek had to an ally was Scott, and Scott had just tried to tell everyone that Derek was a serial killer.
Things had been tough for Scott, granted, but at least Scott had people around that he could count on. None of this was Derek’s fault, and he was dealing with it all alone.
Stiles came to a decision. “Don’t go,” he said impulsively. “Stay. Help me explain things to my dad.”
Derek stared at him. “I thought you didn’t want the Sheriff to know.”
Stiles shrugged. “I want to keep him safe from all this.” He gestured vaguely. “But I just realised that ignorance is going to put him in more danger than knowledge will. I won’t always be able to count on the bad guys to want to avoid getting the cops involved. He needs to know, and you need a sensible adult influence.”
Derek gave him an angry glare.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don’t be like that, sourwolf. With everything that’s been going on, you probably haven’t even had time to grieve for your sister yet. Come with me to talk to my dad.”
Derek stared at him for several long moments. Long enough so that Stiles could see headlights of oncoming vehicles cutting through the darkness. “Okay.”
Stiles blinked. “Okay? I mean, okay! Good! Great. We’ll just…wait for my dad.” He looked at all the blood that he could see. It looked black in the dim light. “You want to sit down or something? You look like you could topple over at any moment.”
Derek bared his teeth at him, but Stiles was wise to the ways of a wounded werewolf. He ignored the implied threat and tried to figure out the best way to make Derek comfortable. Or comfortable-ish.
It turned out that Scott had called the station, asking for Noah. Stiles was pissed that his friend had done an end-run around him, possibly putting his father in danger. After all, Scott didn’t know that the Alpha wouldn’t engage with law enforcement.
Derek steadfastly refused medical assistance. Since he seemed fully compos mentis, the responding deputies had to accede to his request to be left alone.
Scott gave Stiles the hairy eyeball when he and the others emerged from the building, but was quickly distracted by some drama with Allison. Since no-one looked dead, or even injured, Stiles decided that the debrief could wait. He stayed with Derek, in case Scott got the idea to repeat his earlier lies.
Having organised a thorough search of the school, Noah agreed to take Stiles and Derek home to hear what they had to tell him. Half an hour later, they were sitting around the Stilinski kitchen table, fresh hot chocolate in front of them.
Noah eyed Derek’s bloody clothes but turned his attention to Stiles. “Okay, kiddo, I’m listening.”
Stiles took a deep breath and then launched into the tale.