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Stiles rocketed down the stairs, heading towards the door before his grandfather’s voice called his name, sending shivers down his spine. It wasn’t too long ago that he found that voice reassuring, but that was before Scott had turned, and Stiles realized that the values he’d believed were nothing but biased lies.
He turned around and forced a smile on his face. “Hey, Grandpops. I’m just heading out. Got a big school project to do with Danny.”
“Not Scott?” Gerard asked, and Stiles barely concealed a flinch at the knowing tone in the man’s voice.
“Nah, Teach wouldn’t let us choose partners, so…” Stiles nodded, fingers drumming against the strap of his backpack. “Anyway, I gotta go.” He turned back around, only to freeze when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together. “Argent business?”
All he got was an acknowledging hum and a quick squeeze to the back of his neck. Stiles sighed, nodding and opening the door to gesture his grandfather through. “Fine, Danny can wait.”
He followed Gerard into a waiting car, cursing himself for not sneaking out instead of using the front door. Two of his distant cousins joined them in the car, and Stiles wondered if their trip had anything to do with the alpha terrorizing Beacon Hills. They arrived at a warehouse downtown, one of the many that the Argents owned and used to cover their underground activities. Stiles followed his grandfather silently into the warehouse and down into the basement before his curiosity became too much. “So, did you find the rogue alpha? What’s this about?”
All he got was a bare-bones smile as Gerard slid open the door to one of the rooms and gestured for him to walk in.
Stiles rolled his eyes at the curated mystery and walked in, freezing as he saw the scene before him.
“I think you already know what this is about,” Gerard said behind him, and Stiles felt like throwing up.
Scott hung on a roughshod metal fence, his face shifted and eyes glowing yellow as a low current of electricity flowed through him. “Scott…”
The werewolf barely had the energy to look up at him, Stiles’ name slurring past his lips before they amplified the electricity, the beta crying out in pain.
“You know how I hate it when you keep secrets from me, Stiles.” Gerard intoned, motioning for his cousins to take Stiles’ backpack. He didn’t fight it; there was no point. Gerard pulled out the bestiary and the medallion Stiles had stolen from their collection. He’d taken it with the intent to teach Scott how to anchor himself. It was a beautiful, handcrafted piece that his aunt Kate had pulled off an omega she killed years ago. It was molded with the face split in three parts, one depicting the sun, another the moon, and on the uppermost part, the Latin word for truth. Veritas. It looked jarringly out of place in Gerard’s hand.
“You really think you could take this without my noticing?” Gerard asked, and Stiles grit his teeth together, glaring at Gerard as he placed the items back into the backpack and tossed it aside like it was inconsequential. “You have greatly disappointed me, Stiles.”
Stiles flinched, just a little, at the words. Growing up, disappointing the family was something he hated doing. He wanted to prove himself so badly as an Argent that he had started training at a young age before they even told him of the family business. Because Stiles was clever and tenacious, and he knew things like how to eavesdrop without getting caught. It stung when he and Allison were finally told and trained, and she picked everything up so much faster than he did. It didn’t matter anymore, not with his loyalties residing with Scott, not with Allison standing to the side and watching with no guilt on her face, but that didn’t negate the conditioning of his upbringing that left him with a need to prove himself to the man.
Gerard grinned at the way he flinched, and his hand came to rest on Stiles’ shoulder again, propelling him further into the room, over to the table where the electric device sat. “I may be disappointed, Stiles. But it isn’t too late for you to prove yourself. All you have to do is kill him.”
Stiles’ eyes widened as Gerard set a gun down on the table in front of him, no doubt loaded with wolfsbane bullets. He felt sick, his stomach doing flips. He should have never asked Scott to go with him to find that dead body. He should have been the one who got bitten. It would have been so much easier. Stiles would have had no qualms about killing himself to protect his family, but now… Scott had already proven that all werewolves weren’t bad when he tried to save that bus driver. He couldn’t kill Scott. He just couldn’t. He closed his eyes, remembering the words he’d once heard his father say while Stiles eavesdropped. Back before Chris died, when Stiles was still so young.
“We hunt those that hunt us.”
“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I won’t do it.”
Gerard’s face hardened like stone, his grip on Stiles’ shoulder tightening painfully. “You better rethink that answer, boy.”
Stiles curled his hands into fists, shaking his head again. “You can threaten to kill me, but I still won’t do it. You’ll never make me.” He looked up into his grandfather’s eyes. “I won’t become the monster that you have.”
Gerard’s face twisted in disgust, and he shoved him away into the hands of his cousins, who gripped his arms tight and pulled them behind his back. “You think I’m the monster?!” Gerard raged. “Everything we do is to protect the world from monsters like this!” He pointed at Scott, who looked nothing like a monster with the pain and fear written on his face. “They’re the ones that hurt people. They’re unnatural, sadistic beings who want nothing more than to kill us!”
“That’s not true, and you know it! Scott has never hurt anybody!” Stiles yelled, fighting against the harsh grips on his arms. “Dad said our code was to hunt those that hunt us!” He shouted, seeing Allison flinch out of the corner of his eye. “You broke that code years ago! You don’t want to protect anyone. All you want is power, you greedy hypocrite!”
“Enough!” Gerard motioned to one of his cousins, and a meaty hand slapped over Stiles’ mouth. “Allison!” He barked, sure to have seen her flinch earlier and eager to reinstate his authority. “Kill the beast.”
Stiles screamed behind the hand covering his mouth, trying to protest as his sister stepped up and raised her crossbow. She glanced his way only once, and Stiles closed his eyes in defeat at the look of hate she shot him. He couldn’t watch this.
A hand gripped his head, fingers pulling his eyelids open and forcing him to watch as Allison steadied her arm. Scott roared in betrayal, eyes glowing, and the arrow flew. It lodged itself right in Scott’s heart. The roar died out, and Stiles screamed, tears flowing as Scott’s head dropped and his body hung limply on the fence.
The men holding onto him shoved him to the ground as Gerard congratulated Allison on her first kill. Stiles stared at Scott’s body, tears welling in his eyes as the rest of the hunters slowly left the room, sneering as they passed him.
Only Gerard paused in the doorway, his voice grave as he spoke. “You’ll learn from this lesson, Stiles. You might not realize it now, but Allison saved your life by killing that beast.”
His footsteps faded away with the rest, and Stiles slowly got up, lifting his best friend’s body off the fence and lowering him to the ground, cradling him in his arms. “Scott-” He sobbed, holding Scott’s face and pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.” He whimpered, tears dripping down onto Scott’s face. “I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me.” His eyes squeezed shut, and he wept openly with guilt.
“It should have been me.”