Chapter Text
Their date had been fantastic. It had been perfect. Just a simple dinner at the diner Stiles used to go too while they talked and ate with their ankles hooked under the table. They were together so it had been perfect, but Jordan still found a way to be distracted.
He tried his best to hide it, to smile and just be with his boyfriend, but he should've known Stiles would see right through him. He always did.
"I know something's wrong, Jordan."
Snapping his head up, he looked across the table to see Stiles with a worried look in his eyes and an expectant eyebrow raised. When he didn't start speaking right away, Stiles' eyebrow lowered only to crinkle slightly in concern. He reached across the table to grab Jordan's hand, fingers gently sweeping across his knuckles in a soothing motion.
"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to tell me right now, but I wanna help, Jo." The blatant vulnerability that Stiles was showing him showed just how much Stiles cared about him, and helped him say what he needed too.
"All I can think about is that nightmare. It's different from the others and I don't know why."
"Then we go to someone who might," standing up from the booth, Stiles took out his wallet and put down a few bills before looking back to Jordan, "come on, Jo. We're going to Deaton's."
Jordan stood up, putting a few bills down himself before looking at him confused. Stiles never hid his thoughts, and his complete distrust of Deaton's cryptic teachings and telling were no exception.
"I thought you didn't trust him?"
He looked down, then looked back up again with fire in his eyes.
"I don't, but I don't trust a lot of people and he might be our best bet. I'm not risking you just because he falls in the majority. Now let's go, I want answers and I've always thought he knows more than he says."
The ride to Deaton's was short but tense, and before they knew it, they were outside the building. Climbing out of the jeep, they both walked to the front and through the door. The bell rang as the door opened, and Deaton looked up from behind the counter with a serene smile on his face.
"Ah, Mr. Stilinski, Deputy Parrish, what a surprise. What brings you here?"
Looking to Jordan for permission to speak, Stiles looked at Deaton after he was given a nod.
"Jordan is having nightmares. One in particular."
"Everyone has nightmares, Stiles. Especially someone who has been through war."
Stiles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience was always thin when it came to dealing with this man, but this was about Jordan, and he would get a straight answer out of this man even if it killed him.
“Not everyone that’s been through war is part of Beacon Hills. Nightmares in this place never mean anything good, it’s a, it’s like a...” Stiles trailed off, the words in his head moving too fast to focus on. Jordan smiled at his boyfriend, the gears turning in his head almost visible.
“A beacon?” Jordan helpfully finished for him, a teasing smile on his face while he playfully bumped Stiles’ shoulder with his own.
“Yeah! That, thanks babe, anyway,” Stiles fought the amused and lovestruck smile from his lips, his face turning serious once more when he turned back to Deaton, “I have a theory that Jordan is tied to the supernatural somehow, but nothing we’ve seen is a match. I’ve tried to research but, frustratingly, I haven’t found anything even remotely helpful.”
Deaton raised a brow. “Research?”
“Yeah, the internet. Great world wide web, c’mon you’re not that old…. wait, how old are you?” Stiles kept talking, oblivious to Deaton’s brow climbing higher onto his forehead that should be possible and Jordan failing to contain his laughter.
Deaton ignored him, once again asking Stiles, “research?”
“Yeah, how’d you think I found out Scott was a werewolf? I didn’t just guess, and I didn’t have a real book about what goes bump in the night. C’mon doc.”
Deaton’s eyebrows just kept climbing higher, stiles flailing his arms while explain and Jordan full on laughing in the background made quite the comical picture. Still, Deaton couldn’t believe it. “You did research…on the supernatural…on the internet?”
“Yes, Deaton, keep up.”
He blinked a few times, disbelief still written on his face as he looked at the two men in front of him. Jordan had yet to calm himself, catching his breath while bursts of laughter escaped his lips, his arm braced on Stiles’ shoulder, who switched between looking at the deputy with a soft expression and looking to him like he was the one who was crazy.
“Well…good. Regardless, there must be something other than nightmares in this town that make you think he’s supernatural. I’m assuming you’ve ruled out werewolf?”
“Of course. Scott didn’t know I was a werewolf until I told him, and Derek needed my help quite a few times with some of that stuff. He’ll never admit it, but it’s true.”
“Hmmm,” Deaton hummed, looking to the deputy now, “is there anything you can tell us that might help?”
Jordan took a breath, and relaxed at the touch he felt, fingers threading in his own. He needed the grounding, especially now. “The PTSD nightmares I had after Afghanistan were bad enough, especially given what I did, but they were pretty average when I thought about it. Bombs going off, my brothers dying next to me, me failing to disarm an explosive before I wake up in a cold sweat.” Jordan took a deep breath, reaching for Stiles’ hand while he looked at Deaton. “These are different. All I see are strangers and…”, he trailed off.
Deaton’s curiosity was piked, that much was certain, so he probed for more. “And?”
“Fire.”
His voice was shaky, and he felt Stiles rest his head on his shoulder, Jordan following suit and placing his cheek on Stiles’ hair, holding him close. Deaton had looked away, eyes curious still while he thought about what the deputy told him. It took a few minutes, but Stiles saw something that looked like recognition light up in his eyes.
“You know something?”
Deaton looked to the mole dotted man in front of him before turning to Jordan, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Tell me, deputy, have you ever heard of a hellhound?”
Confusion was clear in Jordan’s expression, but one look at Stiles told the other two that he had heard of them before, so Jordan smiled and held his boyfriend tighter while he jumped to an explanation.
“I have! They’re messengers for the dead. Kind of like a supernatural taxi service.”
The ghost of a smile on Deaton’s lips grew slightly. “You’re not entirely wrong, Mr. Stilinski. They are a guardian of the supernatural world. Tasked with preserving it, and keeping it a secret from the mundane world and its inhabitants. The strangers that Deputy Parrish are seeing are likely supernatural beings that he has helped move on, taking their bodies and cremating them in order to preserve secrecy.”
Jordan sighed, but his latest nightmare had him pausing. “Are they all supernatural’s that I’ve helped cross?”
Deaton raised a hand to his chin, considering the question. “I’m not sure if you personally helped every stranger that you see in your dreams, but everyone in your dreams is supernatural. Odds are, the more prominent they are in your dream, the more likely it is that you were the one to help hide them.” Catching the look on Jordan’s face, Deaton’s expression fell slightly. “Why? Did you see someone you know?”
“Someone I recognized.”
Deaton’s eyes narrowed, looking at Jordan pensively. Stiles had a similar expression, moving from his position to look at Jordan with worry in his eyes. The vet looked back to Jordan, questioning. “Who did you see?”
Jordan took another breath, unconsciously pulling stiles closer to himself, one hand threading is way into the hair on the back of Stiles head, the other gripping onto a hand in his lap. He didn’t believe it at first, but there was no mistaking it. He’d never met them, but he knew exactly who he saw. Surrounded by fire, a woman with long hair and kind eyes. So, he spoke, preparing himself for the questions and distress that saying her name would bring.
“Claudia Stilinski.”