Chapter Text
Stiles had been doing what she normally did at the games: stand beside Coach while holding their playbook that she had called “The Bible” (if only to honor her sports-loving father), and give him updates on the other team’s players. This time around, Scott was benched for the game, and with Jackson on the field, she could only hope that they’d end the night without any bloodshed.
Stiles watched as Isaac began knocking out player after player from their own team, not knowing what his game plan was.
“Stilinski!” Finstock yelled. “What the hell is he doing? He does know that we’re the red team, not the black team, right?!”
Stiles’ line of vision was drawn from the field over to Scott grinning from the bench, looking amused at what was playing out on the grass.
She shook her head and gritted out, “I have no idea, but I’ll find out why.”
Placing the playbook back onto the bleachers, she marches over to Scott and watches as his face shifts from amused to cautious.
“Scott! What the hell is he doing, and why do you look so okay with Isaac going batshit on our team right now?” She’s standing in front of him with her arms crossed and her glare turned up to Sourwolf levels of pissed off.
“Because”, he starts waving his hands in the direction of the turf,” with every player he takes out, that means that coach will have no choice but to put me on the field.”
Stiles sighed through her mouth and tried to reply but Scott interrupted her, “You didn’t hear what Gerard said, Stiles. He’s gonna make Jackson kill someone tonight, and the only way I can stop that from happening is if I’m on the field.”
Stiles shook her head and blew a breath harshly from her nose. She turned to walk away before spinning around and saying, “Next time Scott, you wanna make the plans, you tell me, me, what you’re planning, because right now, all anyone sees is Isaac going crazy and sending a bunch of high schooler’s to the hospital.”
She stomped her way back to Coach’s side, muttering under her breath about stupid werewolves when Coach spotted her.
“Stilinski! We’ve already sent in Ramirez and Murphy and Lahey’s taken them out. God knows why but Greenberg is next and then McCall, but I can’t have him play. The principal is here, and somehow he’s failing three of his classes. I would’ve thought his grades would’ve gone up through your sickening codependence via osmosis or whatever, but he can’t play. That means, I’m gonna have to put you in.”
Stiles stood there for a second, stunned into silence, before exclaiming “Me?! ME?! I'm playing??? On the field??? With the team??? Coach what do you mean? I don’t even play during practice! I just draw plays and keep you from murdering Greenberg half the time!”
“Exactly, you draw the plays. You know how every single one works. You watch the practices and hell, you managed to work with Jackson and now he hates you a little less. You know this field better than almost anyone on the team. I’m trusting you to handle this. Don’t let me down or else I’ll have to have another Parent-Teacher conference with your father and I’m not particularly looking forward to that.”
Stiles was in the middle of shaking her head and stuttering out her refusal when Coach interjected “Nope, nuh-uh, go put on some pads and a jersey. I’m sure you can borrow some from the JV team and get out there.”
Stiles was shaking her head and went in the direction of the locker rooms to change, not noticing Gerard spying her from his seat on the bleachers.
She got dressed and yes, she did have to borrow some pads from a JV player. She went through three different lockers before finding some that smelled remotely clean. Luckily, Coach had gifted her with a jersey after the State Championships last year and it’d been hanging in her locker since last Spring. By the time she was lacing up her shoes, she saw Scott walk into the locker room.
“Stiles what are you doing?” he asked, closing the door behind him and stalking towards her.
“What’s it look like dumbass, I’m suiting up.” She had finished the knot on her left foot before moving to her right.
“What do you mean ‘suiting up’? You can’t play!” He gestured to her before pacing across the floor.
“Yeah well, Coach decided to put me in since your little werewolf BFF out there has already taken out two players. If he takes out Greenberg too, I’m in.”
By this point she was up off the bench, walking towards the mirrors to adjust the padding and began braiding her hair down into a simple braid.
“You don’t even know how to play! You’ve never spent any time on the field with us during practice, you’re gonna get eaten alive!” Stiles could see Scott’s face in the mirror, and the golden flash of his eyes.
She tied off the plait before turning around to look at Scott, the fury she felt evident on her face.
“Newsflash Scott, I make the plays. Not you, ME! I’m the one spending hours each week to come up with gameplan after gameplan, working with Coach and even fucking Jackson to make sure that this team succeeds. You weren’t even on first line last year but my plays got us to State! THE STATE CHAMPIONSHIPS! Can you imagine that? That me, sixteen-year-old, fragile little-human Stiles did something on my own. No super strength or speed, no bite to have fucking werewolf powers, and no you . I know all of the plays, inwards and outwards, meaning I’m more qualified than you to be out there on the field.”
She gathered the spare crosse and helmet and shoved past Scott. As she was making her way back to the field, she caught her dad’s attention.
John saw a player with the name Stilinski emblazoned on the back before murmuring “Oh, no... Why is my daughter running out to the field?”
Melissa rolled her eyes before leaning over and answering, “Um, because she's on the team?”
John snorted and quipped back, “Yeah, but she never plays with the team! She just makes the plays!”
Melissa shrugged her shoulders. “Mmhmm…well it looks like she’s gonna play tonight.”
It took a moment for John to connect the dots: the jersey on his daughter, her with pads and a crosse on the field, seeing her braid peeking out underneath a helmet.
“She's on the team…” he whispered. “She's-she's on the field…”
John stood up, with his hand in the air and yelled “My daughter’s on the field!”
Stiles heard her father and turned around. “Oh dear God."
It took most of the quarter before Stiles got the hang of it. She was able to map out the plays she knew so well in her mind and began calling out to other players to pass between one another.
She was running towards the end of the field, ball in crosse, trying to figure out how to score a goal. She’d never made a shot, even the few times over the years when she practiced with Scott, before her life became a literal nightmare. She was finally at the goal end, staring down the goalie who was trying to use his much larger body mass to protect the goal.
She kept moving her feet, unsure of what to do, when she heard the thundering of footsteps down the field headed towards her. Her unsurety could cost them the whole game. She looked around, somewhat praying for someone to get her out of there when she heard different voices yelling at her from the bleachers:
“STILINSKI! SHOOT IT! SHOOT THE BALL!! SHOOT IT YOU IDIOT!” from Coach.
“STILES THROW THE BALL!” from her father, and finally Lydia’s voice joined the chorus
“SHOOT IT!!”
She threw the ball and made it into the goal. She could hear the crowd begin to cheer and saw her father jump from his seat on the bleachers. She looked up to the scoreboard and saw as the Home side went up to 8 to the Guest’s 9.
She said out loud to herself, in pure disbelief “I scored a goal?”. Then the adrenaline kicked in and she began shouting “I scored a goal! I SCORED A GOAL!!”
The rest of the night went smoothly from thereon out. The team huddle allowed her to call out the next play, having her fill the role that previously belonged to Scott. She was smaller than the rest of the players, making her faster and able to weave and dodge their opponents. As long as their defense rallied around her, she’d have a clear pathway to scoring again.
And again she did. She weaved past two of the other players before shooting another goal. The cacophony of cheers were the background to her tying the score to 9-9.
With less than 45 seconds on the clock, Stiles had one more chance to land another point for the Cyclones. She kept running, faster than she ever thought she would without her life being at risk, and launched the ball into the net.
She did it…she won! “Holy shit I did it! WOOOOO” she yelled while being swarmed by her teammates. All of them patting her on the back and yelling “We Won!!” around her.
She looked out into the crowd and saw her father and Melissa standing up and cheering for her.
She smiled and for the first time in years, felt the pride of both of her parents in that moment.
Unsurprisingly, that happiness would end abruptly.
She saw Scott come through the crowd towards the field, and spotted Jackson stepping towards the goal under the harsh spotlights. She moved from her teammates and headed towards Jackson, catching him while he stripped off his helmet
“Hey! We did it! I know you always give me shit but I guess I’m more important than you thought huh?", she teased. Any amusement she had left when she noticed Jackson’s eyes flicker between his normal blue and that familiar reptilian green.
He grit out, voice clenched and full of warning “Stiles…Go now, before it’s too late” before the kanima replaced any part of him that was left
Stiles kept shaking her head and walked closer to him, hoping that this wasn’t Gerard’s plan in motion. “Jackson. Jackson! Snap out of it man! C’mon you gotta fight it, okay! This isn’t you, this is Gerard!”
Green eyes looked at her hungrily, before the kanima spoke “Stiles…RUN!”
She’d barely broken out into a run before the familiar sensation of kanima venom began to tingle down her spine. “Fuck! Fuck not again” she said before collapsing onto the field. The lights began to go out when she was roughly grabbed from behind
“Hey! Hey! What are you doing?! Let me go” was all she could mutter before she was gagged and lifted up. The kanima venom meant that she couldn’t struggle against her captors, but she’d already caught sight of two of them before being harshly thrown into the back of a van.
‘Hunters! Of course it’s FUCKING HUNTERS!! Who else would it be in this godforsaken town!!
Her internal monologue was the only thing keeping her sane at this point
Then the fear came in, which would’ve paralyzed her had it not been for the kanima venom coursing through her veins.
She tried to keep her breathing steady, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack under her skin, when the van stopped at their location.
The door slid open and she was pulled by two men, grabbing her upper arms in a bruising grip, when she saw they were outside the Argent residence.
She could feel tears welling up and her breath began to quicken as they made it through the front door and she was shown the entry hall to a set of downward stairs.
Because they’re hunters, meaning completely assholes in nature, they barely removed her gag before pushing her down the steps. She landed at the bottom, hitting her head and ribs a few times on the way down.
The room was dark and smelt awful, like iron and a little bit of ozone. She tried wiggling her hands and feet but neither were responding as much as she’d like them to.
She rolled onto her stomach and tried as much as she could to use the steps to gain some leverage to stand up. She’d barely made it up, using what little strength she had to support herself with the railing, when she heard whimpering coming from inside the room. She trailed her hand across the wall until she found a switch and flipped it.
In front of her were Boyd and Erica, trussed up to the ceiling with electrical wires and black tape over their mouths.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!! How did you get here?! Nevermind, I’m gonna get you down okay?”
Stiles limped over, finally getting the strength back in her legs, and reached up to remove the wires from Erica’s wrists. Erica and Boyd both shook their heads, pleading behind the tape for her to stop. She made contact with the wires and immediately pulled back her hands, feeling the shocks from the electricity, causing the lights to flicker in the room.
Erica groaned behind the tape while Stiles began clutching her hand and tried to shake out the feeling.
“Okay, okay, so that was a bad idea. I’m not gonna try it again okay? Stiles said. Erica and Boyd nodded, tears apparent on Erica’s face, causing the recently perfect makeup she’d crafted to run down her cheeks.
Stiles softly shushed them and as gently as she could, peeled away the gags from each of their mouths, watching them both begin to catch their breaths.
“Okay, I need both of you to stay quiet. I’m gonna look for a cord or a breaker, something that’s connected to the wires and turn it off. Then I can cut you both down.”
They both nodded before Boyd whispered, “Be careful and move fast. Someone’s in the house upstairs."
Alright, nothing like a time crunch under pressure where literal lives are on the line she muttered under her breath while walking around the room.
She followed the line of wires and found a central generator in the corner, wires sprouting out the sides like weeds from an uncut lawn. She noticed that there were some plugs and dials that were probably supplying the power to the restraints
“Guys! Guys, I found it! I’m gonna turn the dials down and pull the cords. Just give me a second, I need to make sure I do this right, and then I’ll cut you down. I promise, we’re gonna be okay.”
Stiles then knelt down and followed the labels on the dials, seeing the direction to increase power before harshly turning the dial in the opposite direction.
She could hear the groans of relief come from the pair of them when Boyd turned his head towards her
“Stiles, hurry and hide, someone is coming to the door.”
Stiles stood up from the generator and walked in front to face the wolves. “No, right now we need to make it look like all I did was turn on the lights. If we play it smart they won’t know the power is off. Trust me."
Erica and Boyd shared a look before looking at Stiles. Erica’s voice was soft but firm when she said “Okay, we trust you.”
Stiles then placed the tape back on each of them before she turned towards the steps, tensing her shoulders and bracing herself for what was to come when someone came down the steps.
Gerard, of course it was fucking Gerard. As if Stiles didn’t have enough issues on her plate, she now had to deal with the psycho grandfather of her best friend’s girlfriend
Once he made it down the steps, she addressed him, disdain clear in her voice:
“What are you doing with them?” she asked
Gerard leant his shoulders back against the wall and replied with a smarmy grin “At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There’s no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up.”
Stiles’ head perked up at the mention of Derek, wondering where he was or if he even knew that two of his betas had been kidnapped and captured by the Argents
Gerard noticed this and made a step forward, “The instinct to protect their Alpha’s too strong.”
Stiles took a step back, swallowing the creeping taste of bile before asking “Okay. So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, he knows my scent, and there’s no way in hell my father, the Sheriff , hasn’t noticed that I’m missing from the field. That means K-9 Units, an entire station out looking for me, and you getting a felony charge for aggravated kidnapping. So the way I see it, you’re shit outta luck.”
Gerard smirked again before stepping closer to Stiles until he was right in front of her. “You have a knack for creating a vivid picture Ms. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own: your father, the Sheriff as you’ve pointed out, finding your body out in the preserve, barely identifiable save for your jersey, and comes to the conclusion that his sweet daughter is just a victim of another animal attack in Beacon Hills. How does that sound?”
Stiles could feel her pulse race in her chest, the image of her father finding her dead body in the preserve. And then, the news of her death spreading outwards towards the rest of her pack: Scott and Mel, Isaac, Derek.
She shook her head and spoke with as much defiance as she could, “I think I might prefer more of a still life landscape, you know?”
She noticed Gerard clench his jaw before she mustered up some false bravado “What-what are you 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room. I’ve been taking self-defense classes for years, and I’ve survived a fucking rabid Alpha, you’ve got nothing on me-”
The next thing she knew, Gerard was backhanding her with enough strength to send her crashing to the ground.
She could hear Erica and Boyd whimpering and shouting behind the tape when Gerard began to loom over her.
He pulled her by the front of her jersey, leaving her a few inches off the ground before speaking again.
“Let me let you in on a little secret Ms. Stilinski: humans do not belong in wolf packs. They aren’t in packs at all, unless you count the pathetic pack you and Mr. McCall seem to have found yourselves in. It goes against the Code and against pack hierarchy to have humans period. So, unless you plan on becoming one of these monsters, there’s really no reason for you to be involved.”
He then struck her again, embedding his fist against her ribs and stomach, causing her to turn on her side in an attempt to shield her abdomen.
While she was curled into herself to block blow-after-blow, she recognized something Gerard said, “you and Mr. McCall”, meaning he had no idea she wasn’t just involved with Scott, but with Derek and his pack.