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“I love you buddy. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Stiles repeats as he tightens the hug between him and his best friend. With each word, he burrows deeper into Scott’s neck, letting the comfort and warmth wash over him. He almost lost him. They almost lost each other. He wipes the last lingering tears away from his eyes before the others can see how affected he is right now.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Scott whispers manically. At his words, Stiles grips him even tighter. He knows they should probably include Lydia and Allison in this love fest. They need comfort as well but, nothing else matters right now. Not even the way his clothes are starting to dampen with gasoline. The hot night air seals the fabric tightly around his body but Stiles barely notices it.
“Uhh guys-” A familiar (yet new) voice interrupts their moment. Reluctantly, Stiles pulls away from Scott. He doesn’t let him go fully, though. He keeps his arm secured around Scott’s shoulder so that he can physically feel Stiles’s love. When he turns his attention towards Danny, he shrugs off the inquisitive frown that Danny's giving all of them. It’s clear by the smell of gasoline and the burnt road flare that something out of the ordinary occurred. Instead of acknowledging his suspicions, they wear (fake) smiles upon their faces to pacify the worries emanating from their classmate.
“Hey Danny.” Allison smiles deeply at him, making sure to divert the attention away from him and Scott. “What’s up?” Before Danny answers, he takes several more moments to observe the scene they’ve created. Stiles is almost afraid that he’ll start asking questions. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
“Don’t even want to know.” He shakes his head back and forth. Stiles has never felt more judged in his life. “Have you seen Jackson? I was going to chill with him since Ethan up and left right in the middle of going down-” Stiles’s eyebrows widen at the words left unsaid. He’s both ecstatic and disappointed that Danny stopped his train of thought. On one hand, hearing about Danny’s sexual escapades is awesome. On the other, those sexual escapades deal with Ethan. He’s picturing Danny in a filthy position when Lydia’s voice ruins his moment.
“No.” She shakes her head calmly. “We haven’t seen him since we got off the bus.” Lydia places a hand on her hip. Obviously, she and Jackson are still sour from their breakup. Stiles tries to share a quick reaffirming nod with her. She’s become something of a sister to him now that he’s not trying to woo her. “You guys seen Jackson?” Lydia returns the nod when she glance over to ask them.
Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Jackson at all since they got off the bus. Not that the absence of Jackson’s presence is unusual. Ever since he came back from London, he’s pretty much avoided anything to do with them. To be honest, unless someone mentions him, Stiles forgets he exists. Except on the occasions where he plays the starring role in Stiles’s fantasies but those times are rare. (Not really.)
“I’ll just keep looking.” Danny side-eyes them. Stiles maintains the smile on his face, hoping it makes him appear less suspicious. “If you see him tell him to come to my room.” With one final glance, he strides back in the direction he came from. Stiles waits ten seconds after he’s no longer visible to talk, just to be safe.
“You don’t think…” They nod their heads in agreement at his unspoken thoughts. It's sad now that their minds are programmed to automatically think the worst.
“The counter only said three werewolves.” Allison denies his theory. Technically, she’s right but who says an evil druid spirit plays by the rules. Scott’s mentally drained but he shakes his head fervently against his shoulder.
“He can’t…Why would they target Jackson? He isn’t even a part of the pack!” Now that Scott’s found yet another person he has to protect, his temporary moment of weakness is gone. He straightens his back, stepping away from Stiles’s entirely. He mourns the loss of comfort but they have bigger things to focus on. He and Scott can bro cuddle later. “We have to find him.” Scott exclaims.
“I’m sure he’s fine. I mean its Jackson. When is he never not fine?” Stiles tries his hardest to persuade them all away from another werewolf goose chase.
“All the Time!” Lydia scoffs. “Jackson’s issues have issues. He’s more damaged than Derek is…was.” She corrects herself. Stiles squeezes Scott’s arm, knowing that statement might set him off again. “We have to find him!”
“Ugh fine. You ok with this?” Stiles groans. He’s not doing anything unless Scott is 127% recovered. He wouldn’t recover if Jackson’s tragic state triggered feelings within Scott. They share a private nod between each other. For now, Scott pacifies his worries. Like the true alpha that he is, Scott delegates their next moves. Stiles’s job is to circumvent the rooms for any strange activity. Allison and Lydia are to talk to Jackson’s roommate for any clues. They are to all text their findings, if any. Finally, Scott tells them he will run the perimeter for any signs. They split with promises to meet in Scott and Stiles’s room in fifteen minutes.
He hustles towards the hotel, first checking the suicide counter in the lobby. The creepy old woman that Lydia described to him is conveniently missing. What is also missing is the blocked 201-murder count behind the wall. The number now reads 199. If the original number was 198, they have a big fucking problem. A thick violet shiver shoots through his body as he thinks about the implication of that number. Yanking out his phone, Stiles stumbles from the building while he presses the number 1 speed dial.
“Hello?” Scott answers on the second ring. His voice is gruff and frustrated. Obviously, no luck on his end.
“SCOTT! SCOTT!” He screams into the phone. “The counter says 199. That’s one werewolf. It’s Jackson. It has to be Jackson.” Then, a thought pops into his head. Out of the four werewolves that he, Allison, and Lydia saved, only three werewolves actually tried to commit suicide. “Holy shit!” The words barely fall from his mouth. He stammers over the syllables, desperately trying to get his message across.
“Stiles. Deep breath.” His best friend’s voice soothes his anxiety. He inhale-exhales slowly. “Alright, tell me the rest.” Scott responded, once he heard his breathing return to normal.
“You need to get to Isaac quick! It could be him too. Scott, it could be Isaac!”
That’s what really gets him going. “Shit!” Scott curses, which he rarely does. Stiles’s hears quick breathing through the phone. “It’s going to be ok. Keep looking for Jackson. I’ll call you when I get to Isaac.”
“And, I’ll call you.” They don’t waste time lingering on the phone. Now that he knows Jackson could seriously be in trouble, he puts all his effort into finding him. Within five minutes, he’s sprinted past every room in the motel. No signs of suspicious activity. Though, he did catch a disturbing glimpse of Greenberg with two girls. Stiles saves that in his memory for a later time.
He’s getting frustrated when the idea to call Jackson’s phone pops into his head. He can’t remember why he didn’t think about it in the first place. Jackson never turns his phone off vibrate. He keeps calling until he hears the tiniest of ringing. The ringing leads to a closed-door right outside the office. Stiles stares at the door in apprehension. This door is unmarked. If the matter weren’t life or death, he’d turn around and escape to the comfort of his own slightly creepy room.
He takes a deep breath before forcing himself up the creaky metal staircase. The hallway reeks of urine and mold but he pushes through. His feet are shuffling up the eighth flight of steps before a tiny brown door pops into his view. Why does a motel with two levels of rooms need eight levels worth of staircases? The answer smacks him right in the face as he pushes through the door. The open night sky seems all too close from this high up. Directly ahead of him, there is a pathway leading to the bright neon Motel sign. He’s thankful he’s over his fear of heights. With a deep breath, Stiles lifts one foot over the threshold.
“JACKSON!” He bellows, hoping Jackson would call out to him and then they’d get the hell out of here. No. This is the Beacon Hills lifestyle. It’s dark enough that he can’t see his outline yet but the neon brightness provides him with someone lighting. Sure enough, the closer he moves to the sign, the more clearly a Jackson-shaped figure grows. Jackson stands on the edge of the neon sign right above where the ‘M’ in the Motel would be. Upon hearing his name, Jackson snaps his head to glare at him and Stiles gasps. It’s the first time he’s seen Jackson fully wolfed out since the night he hit him with his car. Stiles groans, cursing the bitch that’s setting this in motion. Clearly, she lives to torture them. Jackson’s canines glint bright red from the sign as he growls at Stiles. Despite his urge to run, Stiles stands his ground.
“Go. The. Fuck. Away.” Though the words are quiet, they pack twice as much resentment and hatred. Stiles walks further onto the sign’s platform. Thankfully, the structure stands solid underneath his feet. When he feels he’s at the safest distance for him, Stiles releases a long sigh. He uses the moment to figure out how he’s planning to talk Jackson down from the ledge. They’ve never seen eye to eye on anything. He knows it’s going to be that much harder with him.
“I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head right now, Jackson.” He figures this is the best way to start. “But, I do know it’s all a lie.” Jackson ignores him by turning back towards the ledge.
“Yeah? And how would you know that?” He chides through gritted teeth. Stiles hates whatever made Jackson so angry at life. “You don’t know shit.”
“Then tell me. What don’t I know?” Maybe, this is the way to reach him. Maybe Jackson never felt like he had anyone to talk with. Stiles would gladly be that person if only they could walk down those steps together.
“You don’t know what I feel like.” His tone grows increasingly louder with every word. Stiles hopes that all the werewolves can track their voices now. “You don’t know what this feels like!?!”
“This?”
“All of it.” Stiles winces at the violent laughter spilling from Jackson’s mouth. “My fake parents. My real parents. This werewolf bullshit.” Wow. They were all under the impression that Jackson was under control. “I don’t want to feel this anymore.”
“Feel what?” He inquires quietly. They stand in silence for a long moment. He busies himself by watching Jackson’s movement. Every time Jackson teeters closer to the edge, his breath hitches
“Alone.” Stiles almost didn’t catch the low gritty murmuring. That’s the moment things click for him. Lydia’s words ring the moment true to him. If Jackson doesn’t find someone (and soon) they’ll be back in this situation again, darach or not.
“Hey. You don’t have to feel like that.”
“No one cares, Stilinski. Don’t you get that?” He spins around rapidly, catching Stiles off guard. Jackson stalks to him in one move. He pins Stiles back against the staircase wall. Stiles breathes twice to reject any reactionary flinches.
“Danny cares. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.” But, the words are hesitant. They’re moving in the right direction. Stiles breathes through the closeness of their bodies to think of more reasons why Jackson doesn’t have to be alone.
“And, they might not be your biological parents but, they care Jackson. Hell, your dad even put a restraining order on us when you asked him to. And, what about Lydia. Sure, it didn’t work out in the end but, she still cares about you. You’re not alone.” Jackson’s watching him with his vibrant blue irises but he’s no longer growling or showing fangs. That’s a great sign.
“That’s not enough.” Jackson reciprocated. “No one’s here.” Yep, it’s time to go with his gut. Stiles takes a deep breath in preparation for the heart to heart they’re about to have.
“I-I’m here. Yeah ok…I’m not your first choice.” That’s an understatement, Stiles thinks to himself. Jackson scoffs. Rude. He’s trying over here. “But, I’m here and I’m sorry for all the shit we’ve done to provoke you in the past. It doesn’t have to be that way.” He has no idea where this is all coming from but the words continue to tumble from his mouth. The oddest thing is he recognizes his words as truth. “I can be your pack and you know with me comes Scott. And, with Scott comes Isaac and Allison. You can belong to all of us. We can belong to you.”
“You’re lying.” There’s unshed tears accumulating at his eyes. Stiles is clearly still in Scott mode because he reaches out to wipe them with his thumb. Under his touch, Jackson relaxes.
“Listen to my heart, Jackson.” He pauses to give him time to hear the calm steady beating. “All that pain, we’ll help you work through it. I promise. Just come with me.”
Jackson begins to weep with his head pointed to the ground. Stiles feels uncomfortable watching him. To him, Jackson’s always been so sure of himself. When you think popular and under control, you picture Jackson and his Porsche and designer clothes. Now, he’s no different from Stiles. They share the same pain, the loss of parents. Tears start to prickle at his own eyes. He refuses to draw attention to himself, though. This is about Jackson. Stiles stands silently with him until he’s let everything out. When he lifts his head, Stiles is happy to see the werewolf blue drained from his irises.
“I-” Jackson begins. Stiles throws his hand up to stop him before he finishes his statement.
“We don’t have to talk about it.” Stiles reassures him. “If you want to then cool but, if not let’s just pretend we bonded in this creepy ass motel when you admitted your gigantic crush on me at the vending machine.” He prays his joke hides the blip in his heartbeat. They’re just forming a tentative bond. Why ruin it with a maybe (almost) crush?
If Jackson catches on, he hides his emotion. Jackson shakes his head fondly at him. It’s not a smile but it’ll do for now. Stiles whoops, pumping his fist in the air. Stiles gestures for Jackson to enter the stairwell first to avoid any surprises. If he smiles when Jackson leaves the door open for him then that’s his business.
“Speaking of vending machines. You wouldn’t believe what Boyd did earlier.” He relays the tale to him to fill the silence in a way that’s not annoying. He’s not disappointed when Jackson remains silent. His occasional grunt or cackle is enough for him. “Wanna see if there’s any more free shit?” He asks, walking down the final flight of steps
"Umm- yeah."
"Cool." His tone is indifferent but, his eyes are bright. Jackson agreed to willingly hang out with him. They don't actually get there. Lydia and Danny surround him with hugs the moment they step through the door. Judging by the drying streaks on Danny's face, he knows about the suicide attempts. Stiles hoped to keep it from him. Stiles, more than anyone, understands the emotions coursing through his body. Although, he's disappointed by the sudden turn of events, Stiles lets them be. He steps toward Scott, Allison, and Isaac with a hollow smile. He spares one final glance at Jackson before Stiles guides him back to their rooms. Halfway there, the four of them decide to sleep on the bus. He wants to be as far away from this hotel as possible.
Throughout the night, his mind replays the conversation he and Jackson shared. He wonders what new beginnings await them, if any at all. Around five am, Stiles is still vibrating in his chair. The noise is enough to stir Scott awake.
“Stiles? What’s wrong?” His best friend lifts up from his seat to watch him. Stiles reassures him that all is well but Scott sighs. “It’s Jackson, right? I heard you. He’s going to be ok. We’re all going to be ok.”
“Yeah…I guess." He makes the last decision to ask Scott the question on his mind. "You thinks things will be different tomorrow?” He knows Scott understands his question. Will Jackson still want to be in this new thing they have going on? Did he feel as affected as Stiles? Instead of answering, Scott awards him with that cheeky smirk of his.
“What!?!” He flails.
“Nothing.” Scott chuckles. He opens his mouth as if he plans to say more. “Just you did good tonight buddy. You know I love you right?”
“Yeah Scott, I know you love me. I love you too.” He sighs with a tired smile. Scott reciprocates with a tired smile of his own.
“Good. Now go to sleep. We have crap to deal with when we get back to Beacon Hills.” He pats his hand twice before settling back in his seat. They’re silent for a while when Stiles realized Scott ignored his Jackson question.
“Wait! You didn’t answer my question about Jackson.” He whispers loudly over the seat divider. Isaac, a few seats away, cackles at him. “Screw you, Scarf face!” He throws his way. “Scott, answer me!”
“Dude.” Scott mumbles. “I don’t need to. You already know the answer.”
“When you two have your miracle ADHD werewolf babies, can you name one Isaac?” Stiles coughed madly into his palm, shooting daggers at Isaac for adding his comments. Allison and Scott snicker along with Isaac. Worst friends ever. He and Jackson are not having miracle werewolf babies. Besides, werewolves can’t have ADHD. It defeats the purpose of being a werewolf. He keeps that comment to himself though. Then, they'd really think he's planning a fantasy future with Jackson in his head.
“Just shut up and go to sleep, asshole.” Stiles shoots him the middle finger behind the privacy of his chair.
“YOU GO TO SLEEP!”Allison, Isaac, and Scott screech. Stiles finds himself laughing, despite the tragedy of the night. All is silent after that. He never goes to sleep but, did anyone really expect him too.