Chapter Text
Stiles kept staring at the yellow pass in his hand, as though taking his eyes away from it would make it disintegrate or burst into flames. Miss Morrell had been the guidance counselor, but the handwriting on the pass was unfamiliar. It was only the first week back, so he tried to forgive himself for not noticing her absence, but he knew how dangerous Beacon Hills could be. He stopped in front of the office door, hesitating for a moment before he brought his hand up to knock on it lightly.
"Oh, fuck! Shit. Stop swearing. I am so unprofessional."
Stiles laughed and grabbed the doorknob, preparing to twist it open. The new counselor yanked on it from the other side, and Stiles nearly fell forward. He blinked in surprise when he realized he had come to a stop on an angle. The counselor's hand was pressed against his shoulder, keeping him from doing a faceplant. Noticing that the fingernails were coated in a light purple nail polish, his gaze traveled up her arm. He stood up straight when he made eye contact. "Sorry."
"For what?" She closed the door behind him and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"For being a spaz?" Stiles guessed, feeling even more confused when the counselor snorted. "Right. Okay. Why am I here?"
"The principal asked me to pull the thickest files from the student records and call those students into my office, just to check in with them." She paused and sat down behind her desk, motioning for him to sit down. "I probably shouldn't tell you that. Too late now, I guess." She shrugged, then looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. "I kind of thought teenagers liked sitting down. In fact, I have a not-so-dim memory of being a teenager and really liking chairs because they prevented me from having to stand, unless I was in trouble for something. Do teachers still make students stand up as punishment?"
"No, they just have an insane love for detention." Stiles dropped his backpack beside the chair and sat down, staring across the desk at her. He looked at her nameplate. "B. Summers. What does the B stand for?"
The counselor smiled. "Business. As in, none of yours. Considering the fact that you don't seem to go by your first name either, I'd say that you have to respect my decision not to actually answer your question."
"Okay, Miss Summers." Stiles leaned back in his chair. "Miss? Ms. Summers. Mrs. Summers?"
"Miss." Buffy answered. She glanced at the file in front of her, then set it aside. "I'm not a psychologist. I'm a guidance counselor. I want to make that clear because I don't have a degree. I'm more like... a go-between for the students and faculty members. So I'm not really one of 'them,' okay?"
"Okay?" Stiles wasn't sure where she was going with this. "Look, I'm not interested in being your friend. I have enough friends, and I'm good with those. Besides, you're..." He trailed off, closing his mouth as he realized what he had been about to say.
Buffy smiled. "Old? It's fine. I had a mentor when I was your age that I thought was old, too. Of course, in my case? He was. I'm not that old. I'm only thir- you know what? Let's not talk about me. We're here to talk about you."
Stiles grinned. "I'd rather talk about you." He paused. "Oh god, that sounded like flirting. I'm not flirting."
"Right." Buffy mimicked Stiles' earlier tone. "We'll talk about both of us at once, then. Let's see. Always getting in trouble, hate your first name, one of your friends is kind of a moron but you love him anyway. How am I doing, so far?"
"That's scarily accurate." Stiles stared at her. "What else?" His curiosity was definitely piqued.
"You only have one parent, you feel sometimes like you're the one taking care of them instead of the other way around. And you have to take care of your friends, who don't always listen to you. You've watched them change and you've had no control over it, and you hate that."
Stiles exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah. How do you know all of this about me, though?"
Buffy tapped the file folder. "It's mostly here, but I know how to read what isn't in these pages. I'm not asking you to be my best friend, Stiles. I already have friends, and I'm not that creepy. I just want you to know that we have enough in common that if you want to talk to me, I understand." She glanced at the folder again, making a face. "I'd love to be able to throw this away, but that would get me fired. So let's just pretend I did, for the symbolism." She opened a desk drawer and set the folder in it, then closed the drawer. "I'm offering you a fresh start. Sort of. I can't erase what all of this paperwork says. But I can ignore it. Nobody's going to give a shi- crap how many detentions you had after you've graduated, anyway. Believe me, I know."
"Yeah, but what do you want?" Stiles frowned.
"What makes you think I want something?" Buffy countered.
"Because everybody wants something. Nobody ever just does anything."
"You're lucky I'm not a psychologist. I might read a little too much into that." Buffy rested her hands on the desk. "If you're willing to be completely honest with me, I'll be completely honest right back." She offered. "Because I'm not a psychologist. I don't have a degree or training. I know there are things I'm not supposed to do, but those only apply to people that don't want to lose their medical license. I don't have one, so I'm kind of above the law, that way. I'm an expert in other things."
"That sounds like flirting, too." Stiles remarked, smiling.
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, but I like my guys older."
"Me too." Stiles blurted, then looked horrified. "Oh my god. I didn't say that. You didn't hear that. Please don't make me talk about it."
"I'm supposed to keep you here for another twenty minutes, so we have to talk about something." Buffy frowned.
Stiles was surprised to realize that he felt guilty for not wanting to talk to her. What would he say? 'Miss Summers, most of my friends are werewolves.' He didn't think that would go over very well. "How did you get this job?"
"The principal owed me a favor. Or I owed him one. It depends on who you ask. Either way, I'm here to talk. And to help. And now I get to ask you a question. Oh, I like this game." She smiled. "Which teacher is your least favorite?"
"Harris." Stiles answered automatically, feeling confused again when the counselor did a double take. He kept speaking, not sure what was going on, but figuring he wouldn't get an answer if he asked, anyway. "He's the science teacher and he's got it in for me." He paused. "It feels good to say that. I don't think Miss Morrell would have understood."
"Morrell. The counselor I'm replacing?" Buffy guessed, looking relieved when Stiles nodded. "Okay. When do you have his class? From now on, I'll just make sure to schedule sessions with you during that. That'll probably help with your detention problem, I'm guessing. He's given you a lot of it over the last couple of years."
Stiles stared at her.
"That's okay, right?" Buffy prompted.
"I'm sorry, I think I just fell in love with you." Stiles blurted. "Seriously. I'm not even seventeen yet, but you can wait for me, right?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Get out of my office."
"My time isn't up yet." Stiles protested.
"Oh, now you want to stay and talk?" Buffy looked around the room, then opened another drawer in her desk and got something out, reaching across the desk to set it down in front of Stiles.
"You're giving me candy?" Stiles looked from the chocolate bar to Buffy and back a few times. "That's such a pedo thing to do. You do want to marry me!" He looked smug for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"I'm actually giving you the candy to make you be quiet." Buffy explained, unable to avoid smiling, herself. "It's a nice trick though, right? I used to get cookies all the time from my wa- mentor. It was to keep me from talking too much, too." She leaned back in her seat and twisted from one side to the other in it. "You're basically me, but younger and male. I feel a little bit sorry for you, as a result. But only because I know what I've been through, so I have a good idea of what you're going to go through."
"No offense." Stiles unwrapped the candy bar and bit into it, chewing carefully before he spoke again. "But unless you had a crush on someone that barely noticed you were alive, I don't think you can understand. And I know this really isn't something I should say, but you're... you look... nice. You know. That word is too tame for what I really mean, but I can't say what I really mean because that's offensive, and I don't think you'd give me more candy or want to get me out of dealing with my psycho teacher if I said what I was really thinking. Let me just remind you that I'm a teenage boy and we're kind of attracted to anything that moves."
Buffy stared at Stiles as he spoke, her expression passive. She rested her elbows on her desk, crossing her forearms so that her hands were on her shoulders. She tilted her head. "You think that doesn't happen to girls?"
"What? Crushes?" Stiles thought over his words, giving her a puzzled look.
"Uh huh." Buffy nodded. "You like someone, they don't like you, but they like someone you can't stand, and that's so annoying." She smiled faintly. "I'm telling you. I've been through all of this. It doesn't make it any easier when you're also dealing with vampires and werewolves."
Stiles nearly dropped the candy bar, fumbling with it for a moment. "What?"
"I thought so." Buffy responded, even though that didn't answer Stiles' question. "Let me guess one more thing. If I'm right, then you owe me a candy bar. If I'm wrong... I'm not wrong." Her lips twitched. "The guy you like isn't exactly normal, is he? Older, likes to sneak up on you, only tells you what he wants you to know and then disappears?"
"You are actually freaking me out right now." Stiles gaped at Buffy. "I don't think I want to come back in this office, like, ever."
"Hey, at least I didn't slam an ancient book of vampire lore down in front of you." Buffy muttered.
Stiles sighed. The counselor was all over the place, and she was almost worse than him with her random babbling. "What kind of candy bar do you want?"
"Snickers. Please." Buffy smiled. "And let's keep this between us." She paused. "Which means you're going right up to your friends and telling them. I'm not stupid. I get how it works." The bell rang. "Try not to tell everyone, okay?"
Stiles grabbed his backpack and stood up, nodding at her. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Not if I see you first." She winced. "Oh god, that was terrible."
Stiles didn't stop laughing until he got to his locker.
*****
It wasn't that Stiles was trying to keep the counselor a secret from Scott or anyone else. He wanted to tell Scott, but there had only been one more class before the end of the school day, and it wasn't one they had together. Afterward, he had gone to the track tryouts, while Scott was either with Isaac or signing himself up for tennis again.
Summer vacation had felt strange. Scott had summer school, so Stiles didn't see much of him. Allison had gone to Paris with her dad, leaving no word about when she would be back. Jackson went off to find his biological relatives, which meant that Stiles was suddenly spending a lot more time with Lydia and Danny. Instead of feeling grateful, it only made him frustrated. He wasn't a replacement for Jackson, but he never bothered telling them that. Having someone around was better than having no one. Erica was someone he visited often; her grave marker always needed fresh flowers. The pack of alpha werewolves were buried in a mass grave, somewhere under Derek's floorboards.
Derek had an apartment now, in the wealthy part of town - or, as Stiles referred to it, 'those five blocks.' When Stiles wasn't in the cemetery or letting Lydia talk him into getting a 'dude-icure' (she hated when he called it that, which was why he did it so often, crush be damned), he was trying to settle arguments between Derek and Peter, Derek and Boyd, or Derek and just about anyone else in the apartment complex.
It's not like he wanted to like Derek.
Okay, maybe he did. But he tried not to.
He pulled his dinner out of the microwave and carried it into the living room, setting it on the coffee table as he got a text message. It was from Lydia.
'Did you make the track team?'
Stiles tapped the keys in rapid succession, sitting down on the couch. 'I won't know until tomorrow.' He sent the text, then debated on whether or not he should mention the new counselor to Lydia. Just as he decided not to, he got a text from Danny.
'Need to talk. On my way over. Bringing Lydia.'
Stiles dropped the phone onto the cushion beside him and leaned forward, shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could. Just as he was getting a drink of water and trying to make sure he didn't choke to death, the front door opened. "I'm in the kitchen!"
Lydia eyed him critically as she walked into the room. "You inhaled your food again, didn't you?"
"Maybe." Stiles mumbled. "But so what?"
"There are werewolves that have been trying to kill us for most of this year, and you're going to choke to death on chicken fried rice." Lydia reached up to mess with Stiles' hair. "Danny wants to talk about the new counselor."
"She called him into the office, too?" Stiles frowned, his hand wrapping around Lydia's arm as he walked back into the living room with her. It was habitual now. Odd, since his crush on her was nearly nonexistent, that he would be this comfortable about maintaining physical contact. He let go as he picked up his cell phone and sat down beside Danny, who had taken his vacated spot on the couch. "What did she want to talk to you about?"
"My record." Danny frowned. "I didn't think that would be in my school file. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's not. I don't think she's actually a guidance counselor. Or at least, if she is, she's probably working for your dad."
Stiles shook his head. "I would have known by now."
"Yeah, I sort of figured that." Danny nodded. "What did she say to you?"
"Just that she knows about werewolves." Stiles didn't want to mention anything else. Well, not everything. "She gave me candy."
"So she's a sex offender that knows about werewolves?" Lydia surmised, kneeling on the other side of the coffee table so that she could face both of the guys.
"She didn't try to lure me into a van or grope me." Stiles looked defensive, even as he laughed. "And not to belittle myself, but if she was interested in teenage dick, why would she want mine? You heard Danny. She called him into the office, too."
"I'm gay." Danny sighed. "You know that."
"Yes, but she doesn't. Not that actual sex offenders care. We're so far off the topic right now." Stiles thought back over the conversation with Miss Summers. He didn't like the way that Lydia had insulted her, so he wanted to tell his friends something that would make them change their minds. "I trust her. Is that enough for both of you?"
"No." Lydia shook her head. "I need more than that."
"Yeah, I thought you would." Stiles nodded. "She asked me which teacher I disliked the most. I told her Harris and she said she'd pull me out of his class when she wants to talk to me. And she pays attention to details, the way all of us do. She definitely noticed that just about all of my detentions have been from Harris. If I'm not in his class, he can't give me detention, which means I might actually not have detention for awhile. She just... she's like me, in a lot of ways. Or at least, she's good at lying about it. But she guessed correctly about things that weren't even in my file. So either she's been stalking me since January, or I really can trust her. I want to trust her. Can you trust me about trusting her?"
"Damn it, Stiles." Lydia frowned. "I can try. I'm going to her office sometime tomorrow. She's going to talk to me whether she wants to or not. I don't like that she's singling both of you out. No offense, but you're both a little too easy to manipulate."
Stiles stared back at Lydia, hoping that the look on his face didn't convey too much. After what had happened with Peter controlling her, it was only natural for Lydia to be concerned about anyone looking to use her or her friends, but that didn't mean she was completely immune to having it happen to her a second time.
Obviously, Stiles' expression had given away his thoughts, because Lydia scowled. "Shut up, Stiles."
"Sorry." Stiles murmured. "Did you look her up yet?" He glanced over at Danny.
"Yeah, but it wasn't much to go on without her first name, which she's keeping quiet. I checked in the office at school. There's no paperwork on her. I'm not sure she's actually employed by the school. She might just be a volunteer. But the principal is new, too. And so is the librarian." Danny unzipped his backpack and handed a thin stack of papers to Stiles. "I already gave Lydia a copy, and I have mine at home. You can keep these."
Stiles skimmed over the papers. "Our principal's last name is Wood?" He grinned, then pouted and rubbed his ear after Danny flicked it. "Harsh. I'm just looking for a silver lining here. The last time our school got infiltrated, it was by the Argents. That didn't end well for anyone."
"Find out what you can about her tomorrow." Danny advised Lydia and Stiles. "I'm backing off for now. I've done what I can without getting busted. I'll keep an eye on the librarian, though. I have a free period that I can spend figuring out what his deal is. If he has one."
"So do I. Second period. I guess that means I'll be helping out in the principal's office?" Lydia suggested.
"Yeah." Stiles set the papers aside. "If she had been following me, Derek would have known. He would have said something."
Lydia and Danny exchanged looks.
"What?" Stiles demanded. "You think she knows Derek?"
"No, sweetie." Lydia leaned forward across the table and gripped Stiles' hand in hers. "We think that you're a little too hung up on Derek."
"Ever since he got here, everyone has been at risk. We would all be better off if he and his uncle just left town." Danny gave Stiles a sympathetic look. "You can do better."
Stiles looked back and forth between Lydia and Danny, then burst out laughing. "Peter killed Laura before Derek got back here, first of all. That wasn't his fault. The Argents must have been tracking Derek. If they were looking for Peter, it's not like he was going much of anywhere. As far as we all knew at that point, anyway. I don't like Peter, but on a scale of Lydia to Harris, he ranks higher than Greenberg. As for me doing better, show me one person that's had any interest in me romantically, sexually or otherwise."
"Erica?" Danny suggested.
"Yes, and she's dead now." Stiles muttered. "And you're forgetting how she hit me in the face with part of my Jeep."
Lydia looked like she was fighting back laughter. "Stiles, what the hell does 'otherwise' mean, in that context?"
"I don't like you anymore." Stiles grumbled, smiling. "Anyway, I haven't told Scott about this."
"I'm tutoring him in math. Do you want me to say something?" Lydia reached for her purse, waiting for Stiles' response to see if she needed to send a text.
"Not yet." Stiles bit his lip, feeling guilty about keeping a secret from his best friend. Former best friend? He did spend more time with Lydia and Danny these days, after all. "We'll tell him if he needs to be told. For right now, let's just assume that these new faculty members are only here to replace the ones we lost last year, and that's it."
"When do you want to tell Derek?" Danny asked, his tone casual.
Stiles spoke before he had much time to think about it. "Friday. That's the day I'm usually there, anyway."
"Friday night is date night, Stiles." Lydia smiled.
"Yes, for people who have dates." Stiles shook his head. "Just let me... I mean, Derek isn't interested in me. So what difference does it make if I spend time with him? It's not going to end up going anywhere." He squeezed Lydia's hand. "It didn't get me anywhere with you, and I held on for eight years. I don't know how to not have feelings for someone. It's part of who I am. It doesn't matter to me if he never feels the way about me that I feel about him. It's what I'm used to, anyway."
"I just want more for you than what you have." Lydia stood up, not letting go of Stiles' hand as she walked around the coffee table and sat in front of the couch, looking up at him. "I almost feel like it's my fault for not wanting you back." Her voice had lowered to a near-whisper. "I'm not going to apologize for it, you understand?"
Stiles nodded at her. "Yeah. Uh, if you guys don't mind? I have homework I need to do. Track tryouts ran later than I expected."
Danny sighed and stood up, picking up his backpack and slinging one strap over his shoulder. "We'll see you tomorrow, Stiles." He walked outside with Lydia, pulling the door closed behind them.
Stiles rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. He grabbed the papers that Danny had brought over, carrying them up to his room. He flopped down onto his stomach on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. A breeze blew in through his half-open window. He sat up, staring over at the window for a minute before he got up to close it the rest of the way. He hadn't left it open before he went to school, so there was only one reason for it to be open now. "Derek." He muttered, pushing the window down and latching it. He wasn't sure if Derek had heard the conversation he had with Lydia and Danny, but he wasn't exactly interested in calling him to ask, either. "Everything sucks so much right now." He muttered, laying back down and closing his eyes.