Sitting in the loft, Stiles listened to the boring conversation the pack was having about the newest threat. “According to the hunter, he’s after the last active witch in Beacon Hills. He never said why.” Scott told his pack, and Stiles felt his blood run cold. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What we need to decide is whether or not the witch is a threat and if we should help them.”
“Well if the witch hasn’t done anything to us yet, and they’ve been here all this time then we should be fine right?” Isaac asked. “I mean everything else around here has managed to find it’s way into our lives and somehow make a mess of ‘em…”
“Maybe if we knew who the witch was, did they give you a name?” Erica asked, her hand on her hip. Boyd nodded in agreement.
“Yeah but it’s not an English name it’s Polish and I can barely say it.” Scott groaned. He wasn’t good at Polish, but he happened to know someone who was. “Hey Stiles, come read this name for me.”
“Why Stilinski? I’m sure Lydia can read it better.” Jackson ranted, but Scott ignored him as Stiles shakily stood up to see the paper the tanned boy was holding.
“Polish was Stiles first language. Or Second… I don’t know he learned them from his parents at the same time.”Scott shrugged.
“Zbawiciel…” Stiles muttered. “Zbawiciel G. S.Czarownica ” He went pale as he read the full name. His full name.
“We got a name. Okay, Lydia will you get on finding a picture of the person, maybe an address? Stiles will be our translator in case they only speak polish.” He announced. “Oh Stiles can you tell if the person is male or female by the name?”
“Male…” Was the quiet response. Stiles was surprised they haven’t started joking about how oddly quiet he’d been lately. The most he’d said at once was a couple sentences. Hell, he hadn’t even made a comeback to any of Jackson’s belittling.
Stiles mind wandered to whether or not he should tell the pack he’s Beacon Hills’ witch. He knows they’ll be upset he didn’t tell them before, but it’s not like he didn’t try! Every time he finally had an opportunity he was ignored, or interrupted- and he can’t exactly say “Hey Scott, by the way I’m a witch.” in the middle of math could he? He couldn’t tell Scott before he got the bite and now he can’t find the right time after....This was gonna get him in trouble, Stiles could already tell.
When Stiles looked up again everyone was getting ready to leave, no one noticed he’d yet to move since he got there. He flopped on his side, the couch molding to hug his skinny body, and closed his eyes. He let out a long, quiet sigh.
“Ale chrzaniłem…(I’m so screwed)” Stiles groaned.
“Why?” Scott was looking at him, and Stiles gave him a confused expression before realization settled in.
“Since when can you understand Polish?!” Stiles asked incredulously, his whiskey eyes wide as they stared into chocolate brown.
“Just little bits and pieces and you use it enough...I don’t know I’m just used to it I guess.” Scott shrugged. “So why are you screwed? What did you do? Or forget to do?”
“I’ll tell you on Friday during Pack Night. Even Derek will be there so I won't have to say it more than once." He gave Scott a small grin, and the tan boy gave him a weary look. The two walked out, Stiles headed towards his jeep and Scott to his bike. "See ya at school, Dude."
"See ya, Stiles." Scott called after him as he put his helmet on and revved his bike and rode off.
Stiles walked up the steps to his house, the door swinging open as he approaches it, and swinging shut again as he walked into the foyer and up the stairs. He flopped on his bed, laying face first in his pillow, sighing loudly. He sat up after a minute before focusing on a baseball that was sitting on his desk and willing it to float in front of him. He flicked his hands towards the ball and it exploded, pieces flying everywhere then in the blink of an eye, sat in a neat pile in his trash bin.
The sun began to set and Stiles continued to blow up small balls of paper and wood from around his room to let out his frustrations. “Great. Now I have to tell them.” He groaned, blowing up a pencil.
“Tell who what?” A deeper voice called from the doorway. Stiles jumped.
“Wujek! Co do cholery, koleś? Nie rób tego człowiekowi!(Uncle! What the hell, dude? Don’t do that to a guy!)”
“Nie nazywaj mnie kolesiem.(Don’t call me dude.)” Sheriff Stilinski deadpanned. “Chodzi o tę sprawę z czarownicą?(Is it about the witch thing?)”
Stiles nodded. “Łowcza szuka oststniej, aktywnej czarownicy w Beacon Hills. I zgadnij któż to? Ja.(There's a hunter looking for the last active witch in Beacon Hills, and guess who that is? me.)” He pointed to himself. “I teraz wreszcie zdołałem im powiedzieć.(So now I finally get to tell them.)”
“Dlaczego im nie powiedziałeś, gdy Scott po raz pierwszy zetknął się z nadprzyrodzonym?(Why didn’t you tell them when Scott first got involved in the supernatural?)”
“Zawsze coś było. Przerywanie, pewnego rodzaju zagrożenie, za każdym razem jak próbowałem to poruszyć. Albo zakładali oni, że powiem coś głupiego i mnie ignorowali.(There was always something. An interruption, some kind of threat, whenever I tried to bring it up. Or they thought I was going to say something stupid and ignored me.)” Stiles deadpanned.
“Whatever you say kid. Just tell them.”
“Aye, aye Captain.” Stiles saluted him, and the sheriff left the room shutting the door behind him.
“What was all that about?” Another deep voice called from the shadows of his room.
“GAH!” Stiles yelped, turning to face the figure. “Holy shit, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He put a hand over his heart. “What are you doing here, Derek?”