"Stiles, are you sure you can't stay in a motel for the night?" Stiles' father asks concerned over the phone.
The seventeen year old sighs, one hand on the Jeep's gear shift, the other on the steering wheel. He haphazardly balances the cell between his cheek and shoulder, his voice muffled by the weird angle, but his father hears him loud and clear anyway, "Dad, I don't have any more cash on me, besides, I'm like," he hums slightly thinking about it, "thirty minutes from the town. I'll be there before midnight." The kid grins as he adjusts gears as he goes up hill.
His father sighs, but Stiles can't help but notice how concerned and anxious his dad sounds.
"Dad, really, I'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about. I'll see you soon."
"I-I know Stiles, it's just that-"
The obnoxious sound of his phone beeping in his ear causes Stiles to flinch so hard he loses his phone. It falls on the floor board. He curses at the loss of his phone, and also the whole conversation with his dad.
While attempting to reach the phone, Stiles notices too late the dangerous dark turn up ahead; he reduces speed to turn and attempts to shift, but somehow his poor baby shreds a tire only for her to cut off a couple of feet away from another truck parked on the side of the road.
Stiles hits his head against the steering wheel. Shit, he was so screwed. Of course this was his life.
He gets out the Jeep on shaky legs, trying to shake off the scare of almost dying.
"Okay Stiles, find the phone, see if you have enough charge to call Dad back."
It takes some rooting around and looking under fast food wrappers and empty soda cans till he finds his cell, only for it to stare blankly at him, no matter what button he presses.
"Okay..." Stiles sighs, running his hands through his spiky hair. "Think. Okay, you don't have a phone, your spare tire is gone because you are a complete dumbass and took it out so you could fit your Xbox and video games in the trunk with all your other crap, and it looks like baby is down for the count with a shot battery. What are your options?"
He looks toward the truck a few feet away. "Campers?"
He looks to the side, seeing a trail.
Stiles shrugs and decides to start walking. He puts on his favorite red hoodie and sets out. Luckily the moon is full so he can see where he's going, though that doesn't stop him from tripping on dark tree roots that blend into the ground.
It takes a few minutes of following the trail, but then there’s the campsite. He can see the tent.
As he gets closer, he sees…blood on it?
The canvas is torn, shredded to ribbons in places. Stiles can see blood, disturbed ground, and-'Oh God,' he thinks. 'That’s a bloody arm with no body attached to it.'
He can feel his stomach tightening, but he keeps looking around before he has the chance to lose his dinner. He's never been able to handle blood and gore in real life, but in movies and video games, he's all for it.
He can see bits of…'Nope. Don’t give it a name.'
Stiles looks around noticing for the first time that there is only silence. He can’t hear the crickets or anything.
'Shit. Not good. Something’s here. The thing that did this is still here…'
There has been a struggle, and what looks like three fully grown men are in pieces.
Stiles holds his throat feeling bile rise up. He looks out into the forest when he hears a wet crunching sound that makes his blood run cold and his stomach twist. His eyes widen as he see a black mass tearing into…flesh.
Stiles manages to swallow down what tries to come up.
The wet sounds stop. His limbs start shaking when he sees reflecting red eyes. The monster looks at him from its crouched position, blood and God knows what else, dripping from its muzzle and exposed teeth.
Its head tilts, and he realizes it looks very dog-like.
'Shit, a werewolf? Are you fucking kidding me?' he thinks. 'Of all the things Gran said I could run into, it has to be a fucking werewolf evidently gorging itself?! Way to go Stiles, just go and interrupt the scary ass predator's meal why don't you!'
They stare at each other in silence till it starts to growl; that’s when Stiles does the stupidest thing he has ever done to date, which says a lot.
Tearing into the ground, he can hear it behind him as he makes his way through the trees toward what looks like a big ass lake. He highly doubts he’ll find anything that can help him, what with him completely forgetting his mountain ash in the back of the Jeep, but maybe he can get in the water. Maybe it’ll not want to get in the water. Don’t dogs hate water? Or at least some of them?
It’s getting closer; he can feel its breath on the back of his neck and the sound of his own rushing blood and its claws tearing into the ground fill his ears.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-”
'I’m so close!'
The soft sand and dirt around the lake almost trips him up as the sound of waves gets louder; it's honestly a complete miracle he hasn't face planted yet anyway.
He gets on the old wooden dock; his speed doesn’t decrease. He can hear thuds on the wood louder than his own, claws splintering it with each step.
Making a rash decision, Stiles just dives as far as he can into the lake. 'Thank God for the elementary school swim team.' The feeling of fur and sharp claws brush against one of his ankles leaves chills, but he's safe, for the moment.
With his splash in, a large tsunami crashes into the werewolf on the dock, knocking it away from the edge so it can't follow Stiles in.
'Thank you Gran's Spark lessons!' Stiles mentally fist bumps.
It’s a shock of cold water though, for both of them, but when Stiles surfaces again, it’s on the edge of the dock standing up again. It's drenched and all Stiles can smell is wet dog.
It’s huge and has to be male. Holy shit he must be eight feet tall or more. Every inch of him is bulky muscle and black fur.
"What dog would want to take a bath?!?" Stiles can’t help but smile around his panting; he's always putting his foot in his mouth, why not antagonize the werewolf? He's never had a sense of self preservation before now anyway.
But Stiles could swear the beast smiles through bloody teeth bared at him, but not in a threatening way, or at least it doesn't feel like that oddly enough.
The wolf tips his head back and howls.
Stiles can feel it vibrating in his chest, it starts so low in volume. He can’t help but look up at the full moon following the wolf's gaze.
Definitely a werewolf.
Looking over when the howling stops, the beast isn't there anymore.
Waking up in the hospital sucks; Stiles knows this lesson by now. Especially after all the shit that happened to his mom. He's really groggy when he comes to, but he knows that hand gripping his so tightly anywhere.
"'Ey Da'," Stiles slurs as he squints in the bright light of the fluoresces.
The grip only tightens as the elder Stilinski starts talking, "Damn it kid! What the hell happened?"
He grins kind of dopey up at his dad, who's in full Sheriff's uniform, "I wanted to go for a midnight swim?" he shrugs. He squints, trying to think through the headache, "How did I get in the hospital?"
Noticing it know, Stiles can see that in the last six months of his dad having this new job, he has excessively more gray hair and wrinkles than the last time he saw him. "I got worried when you didn't show up at midnight, so I got a couple of deputies to go find you with me. Damn it kid!"
Stiles flinches at the outburst, but for once keeps his mouth shut about it.
"We found you floating in that fucking cold water; your lips were blue Stiles! I thought something horrible happened to you! Somehow you got away from that-that mountain lion."
Stiles looks up sharply at that, he may be on meds right now, but he knows what he saw. His mother's been telling him about the supernatural since he was in the womb. But it's not like he can tell his dad a werewolf attacked him. "Y-yeah, that mountain lion."
His dad pats his head; his smile is tired, and his eyes show his relief, "Thank God you're okay kid. I don't know what I'd do without you." He hugs Stiles as tight as he can with all the monitors hooked up to him.
Before his dad leaves the room, Stiles is drifting into the ins and outs of sleep, he can hear conversions, but it's all a little hazy.
He hears what sound like his dad talking to a nurse or doctor about the fact "there weren't bites or claw marks" and "being spared", whatever that means.
Stiles is too tired to think anymore.