Teen Wolf: Void Stiles

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The knocking at the door grew so loud that Allison had no choice but to yank out her earbuds, halting the Lana Del Rey track she had on repeat. 

She groaned, tossing her headphones onto the bed, and stomped toward the door, each step a clear reflection of her growing frustration.

The door swung open to reveal Kate, casually leaning against the frame with a playful grin.

"Hey," Kate greeted, her voice light, almost too cheery for Allison's current mood.

"Hey," Allison responded flatly, already turning away, her expression a mask of indifference.

Kate let out a soft chuckle as she entered the room, unfazed by Allison's cold reception. 

She watched as Allison made her way back to her desk, resuming her position in front of her laptop, fingers tapping furiously at the keys. 

"So, what are you up to?" Kate asked, plopping down on the edge of the bed, clearly making herself comfortable.

"Homework. And texting." Allison's voice was clipped, her focus still on the screen.

Kate's lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"You mean sexting your boyfriend?" She teased, raising an eyebrow.

Allison didn't bother looking up, simply rolling her eyes at the comment. 

"No, just texting some of my old friends. You know, venting about how ridiculous my dad's been lately, accusing Stiles of kidnapping me." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, her fingers still clacking against the keyboard.

"Ah, right," Kate nodded, the grin never leaving her face.

Allison's patience snapped, her calm facade cracking. 

"I mean, come on!" She shouted, slamming her hands down on the desk. The sound echoed in the room as she stood up, her frustration boiling over. "He treats me like I'm this fragile little glass doll, like I'm going to shatter if anyone so much as breathes on me! I'm not made of glass, I can handle myself!"

Kate watched her niece with an amused, almost calculating look in her eyes. Slowly, she rose from the bed, walking over to Allison with a sense of ease. 

She placed a comforting hand on her niece's shoulder, squeezing gently as if she understood all too well. 

"Your dad cares about you, Allison. Maybe a little too much, sure, but that's not the worst thing in the world." Her voice was soft, a sharp contrast to Allison's anger. "If you want to show him you're not fragile, that you're strong enough to handle things on your own, you're going to have to prove it."

Allison sighed, taking a deep breath and rubbing her hands over her face. 

She knew Kate was right, but it didn't make her feel any less suffocated. The constant watchful eyes, the overprotective behavior—it was all too much.

Kate's eyes lingered on her niece for a moment longer before they darted toward the laptop screen. 

"What are you working on, anyway?" She asked casually, changing the subject. "Need any help?"

Allison blinked, breaking out of her frustration, and glanced back at her laptop. 

"It's just a history project," She said, sounding defeated. "I kind of just want to be alone, honestly."

Kate scoffed and pulled up a chair beside her. "Oh, come on. What's it about? I could help."

Allison hesitated but eventually sighed and explained, "I have to write a report on something that relates to my family history. I'm totally stuck."

Kate raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

"Family history, huh?" A smirk crept across her face as if something had clicked in her mind. "Type in 'La Bête du Gévaudan.'"

Allison frowned as she typed the words into the search bar. 

"What is this?" She asked, confusion evident in her voice as images and articles filled her screen.

"It's an old French legend," Kate said, crossing her arms and grinning. "Something that's… connected to our family."

Allison's eyes widened slightly as she scrolled through the images, fascinated. "You're kidding. This—this is real?"

"Oh, it's real," Kate replied, her smirk growing. She turned to leave the room, pausing briefly at the door. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you."

"Thanks," Allison murmured, her eyes still glued to the screen as she skimmed through the articles.

Kate stood at the door for a moment longer, watching her niece with a quiet, knowing expression. 

There was something about Allison that reminded her of herself at that age—the fire, the anger, the desire to break free from the rules imposed on her. Her grin widened. 

Yes, Allison was more like her than she knew.

She would make sure of that.

—---

[Stiles POV]

Eyes.

Do you know why we have them? To see, to observe, to visualize, and, in my case, to check how long it's been since someone was supposed to be here.

And let me tell you, Derek Hale is twenty nine. No, scratch that. He's thirty minutes late!

I mean, what's the point of setting a meeting time if you're just going to waltz in whenever you feel like it? It's maddening. And I've been sitting here, bouncing my leg and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for this brooding werewolf to show up. Meanwhile, my patience is getting dangerously low.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I spot the unmistakable sleek black Camaro crawling toward me. 

Derek steps out, all broody and mysterious, like he thinks he's in some kind of noir film, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. 

He strides over to me with an air of nonchalance, like showing up half an hour late is no big deal.

"So, what happened?" He asks, his tone casual, eyes not even meeting mine. It's like he was expecting bad news from the start. "Did he say something?"

I blink at him, narrowing my eyes. Really? He's just going to jump straight into it, like we didn't have an appointment thirty minutes ago?

"Yes," I said, drawing out the word slowly, trying to get him to actually look at me. Finally, his gaze snaps to mine, curiosity and tension evident in his expression.

"What? What did he say?" Derek's whole demeanor shifts, his body language more alert as he steps closer, urgency creeping into his voice.

I pause for dramatic effect, deadpanning, "He said your watch is broken. You should probably get a new one. Maybe one with a lunar dial, you know, to keep better track of the moon cycles."

Derek's expression darkens as he glares at me, clearly not in the mood for jokes. 

"Stiles," He growls, "what did he actually say?"

I shrug, meeting his glare with one of my own.

"He didn't say anything. And, honestly, why did he even come to me? Shouldn't Scott be the one he's visiting? He's the one in the litter, not me."

Derek takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if he's trying not to lose his temper. 

"Yes, but maybe the Alpha sensed something in you. Something different from Scott." His eyes narrow as he studies me. "Did you get any… impression from him?"

I scratch the back of my head, leaning against my Jeep. Did I get an impression? 

Oh, I got plenty of impressions. 

Like the fact that the Alpha has a serious hygiene problem—definitely doesn't floss, probably has never even seen a toothbrush, and let's not even get started on the claws. Pedicure? Never heard of it. But that's not what Derek wants to hear.

"He was angry," I say, my tone more serious now.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Angry at you?"

"No," I shake my head. "Not at me. He was angry when he drew the spiral."

"The what?" Derek's voice rises slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion as he takes a step toward me.

I nod, folding my arms across my chest. "He drew a spiral on the ground next to me. I figured it had to mean something because, you know, werewolves don't usually doodle."

Derek's expression changes, his face paling slightly as he takes another step back. 

He looks… nervous. Which is not a look I'm used to seeing on him. "You… you saw him draw a spiral?"

"Yeah," I reply slowly. "And judging by that look on your face, I'm guessing it means something."

"It's—It's nothing," Derek stammers, shaking his head quickly, trying to brush it off. But I'm not buying it. He's hiding something, and it's big. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," I say, suddenly remembering the part that freaked me out the most. "What the hell were those wolves?!" 

Derek's head snaps toward me, his eyes flashing dangerously. "What wolves?"

"The three giant wolves that showed up out of nowhere while the Alpha had me on the ground," I explain, my voice rising. "They came out of the trees and chased him off."

Derek's jaw tightens, his face contorting with barely contained rage. 

"Shifters," He spits out. "Fucking shifters!"

I blink. "Shifters? You mean, like, shapeshifters? Those things were people?"

Derek's eyes darken as he takes a deep breath. "Stiles, go home."

I gape at him as he turns and storms back to his car. "Wait, what? That's it? You're just going to leave after dropping that bomb on me? What the hell is a shifter?"

Derek doesn't even turn around. "Go. Home,"

He repeats before getting into his Camaro.

I throw my hands up in frustration and mutter to myself, "Jesus Christ, what's next? Vampires are real?"

Derek pauses for a moment, staring at me from inside his car. The silence lingers, and the look on his face says more than words ever could.

I blink.

'Vampires are real, aren't they?'