Stiles didn’t move when the window to his bedroom slid open. He continued to stare up at his ceiling and he hoped the newcomer would turn and leave as quickly as possible. He wasn't in the mood to go traipsing through the preserve in the middle of the night, or to do research on some supernatural creature that was now targeting Scott and the pack because the wind blew a certain way.
Just the thought of those two scenarios exhausted his mind.
He had no idea what time it was but he suspected it was somewhere between two and four in the morning. It was technically Friday so he would have been required to go to school if not for the teacher workday that the administrators planned months prior. Stiles didn’t care about any of that. He just knew he got to hide his face for three entire days.
“Stilinski? Are you alive in here?”
The familiar voice caused Stiles to stir from his ruminations. Only one person called him by his last name, two if he counted coach, but he didn’t expect either of them to ever set foot in his bedroom. Coach still treated him like he was only one rung up on the totem pole from Greenberg and he knew the man would never have any reason to be in his home.
“Jackson?” He asked finally, his voice raspy from lack of use.
“In the flesh.”
Stiles turned and blinked at him. “Am I asleep? Is this some kind of confused sex dream where I think we’re about to get all gropey only for the dream to turn into a nightmare and you kill me, or worse, I kill you?”
Jackson was quiet for a long moment. “Well, we’re both awake and this isn’t a dream. Do you want to discuss why you’d be having sex dreams with me in them?”
And just like that, Stiles knew this was all too real. “Shut up. You know I was talking about a nightmare scenario. Why are you back in Beacon Hills? Why are you in my bedroom?”
“Lydia sent for me and I guilted my dad into letting me spend my school break here. He thinks I'm hanging out with Danny.”
Stiles motioned around the room when he wasn't satisfied by the answer. “Danny isn’t here.”
“No shit. I’m here in your bedroom at three in the morning because Lydia told me you’d be awake and that I should see you as soon as I got in.”
Stiles sat up on his bed and he ran both hands through his hair. He was tired but not tired enough to sleep. If he woke his father up after having another nightmare, he was sure he’d be sent to Eichen House and left there long enough to be forgotten about. He wasn't big on living at the moment but that didn't mean he wanted to be eaten by one of the residents.
“Lydia sent you here?” Jackson stared at him and Stiles recognized the pity almost immediately. “Oh, I see. She told you what happened and you wanted to come see the freak show for yourself.”
Jackson walked to the desk chair and he spun it around so that he would be able to face Stiles before he took a seat. It squeaked slightly and Jackson found himself wondering if it was loud enough for a human's ears to pick up. “Stilinski, you’re not a freak show. What happened wasn’t your fault any more than my turning into a kanima was my fault.”
Stiles clapped his hands together and put on his best fake smile.
“Got it. We’ve bonded over our shared experience of being forced to commit murder against our will. You can tell Lydia you’ve fulfilled your duty. I’m not suicidal or homicidal and today is going to be exactly the same as yesterday. Happy?”
“No, I’m not happy. You’ve been through something…”
“I was possessed by a demon. It used me to kill Allison and Aiden.”
“You're going through something complicated and it's okay to feel bad about what happened as long as you realize you were forced. You were assaulted.”
“Did London make you smarter or something?”
“I’ve always been smart.”
“A smartass. You’ve always been a smartass,” Stiles corrected.
“Takes one to know one.”
“I plead the fifth.” Stiles replied.
Jackson smiled. Stiles didn’t.
Jackson made a promise to Stiles right then and there that he wouldn’t go back to London until the guy smiled like he used to.