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I didn't have a choice

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As the mouth on Donovan’s hand bites into his shoulder, Stiles let out a loud scream at the intense pain. He’d been hurt before, both before him and Scott had been dragged into the supernatural world, and after but nothing could have prepared him for what was happening now. Pushing forward, he found Donovan’s other arm snaking around his throat, and he desperately grabbed it, trying to stop it from applying any pressure.

It was then that he saw the teens other hand was now visible to him, and he could see the mouth in his palm: of all the things that Stiles had seen since he first entered the supernatural world, this had to be the most revolting. Grabbing onto his wrist, Stiles found that Donovan could easily break out of his grip, as he moved his arms so that he had Stiles in a chokehold.

Come on Stiles, you’ve survived Eichen house and battles with Alphas, this is not how you die! This was all Stiles could think as he desperately reached forward, trying to grab the wrench that was on the jeep. He couldn’t reach it though, and Donovan was pulling him back, increasing the pressure around his neck as he did so. If he didn’t get the wrench, he didn’t have a chance. Trying to throw himself forward, he let out a grunt as Donovan once again pulled him back. It was starting to get harder for him to breath, and this was just fuelling the desperation he felt coursing through his body.

Reaching forward again, Stiles was pulled back by Donovan a lot quicker. Without thinking it through, and just reacting instinctively, he threw his head back, letting out a yell as he felt the back of his head collide with Donovan’s face. The crunch that he had heard indicated that he possibly had done some damage to the other man’s nose, though he didn’t give this much more thought. Falling onto the hood of the jeep, Stiles grabbed the wrench, and spun around, yelling as he brought it forward and across, to smack Donovan in the face with all his strength.

Seeing him go down, he began to run towards the school, grasping his injured shoulder as he ran. Stopping for only a second, he turned around to see if Donovan was still down…Only to see that he was getting up, and he looked even more angry than he had at the station. Turning around, Stiles began to run at full speed to the school, hoping to find somewhere safe to hide from his attacker. Stumbling through the doors, he nearly fell over as he continued to run, looking in every direction to make sure that there wasn’t anything in front of him that he might crash into.

Stopping as he came close to a stairwell, Stiles looked up it for a brief second, before turning in the opposite direction. On the second floor, he’d be even more trapped if he was found, whereas he could easily escape if he needed to if he stayed on the ground floor. Running towards the library, he practically crashed through the doors that were in his way, not willing to slow down because he was sure that Donovan was right behind him. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body, and the fact that it was dulling the pain in his shoulder was something he was immensely grateful for.

This wasn’t something Stiles normally had to contend with, being chased by an angry supernatural being, or Chimera, as he suspected Donovan must be. Usually, he’d be behind Scott or Malia, not actually fighting but giving them moral support. It was one reason he’d never bothered to learn how to fight, generally just using his baseball bat if he had to. The fact that his ADHD made it harder for him to focus wouldn’t help with any combat training, though he was starting to think that maybe he should find time to learn how to fight, especially if he survived this situation.

Finally reaching the library, Stiles grabbed the door handles and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Pulling again, his anxiety and fear was about to overwhelm him when he saw the key card scanner: he needed his student card to get in. Pulling his card out of his pocket, he slid it down the scanner and as the light turned green, he pulled the door open and nearly stumbled through it. Closing it after him, he moved forward, only stopping by the scaffolding so he could get his breath back. Looking around, he knew that he had a good few hiding spots if he needed to. He was distracted from his scanning of the room as he turned back to the door, which someone was now trying to open: he didn’t need to be on the other side of it to know that it was Donovan trying to open it. Moving to one of the bookshelves, he immediately went behind it, hiding as best as he could.

His fear and anxiety only increased when Donovan opened the door: he must have swiped someone’s student card, or someone must have given him theirs. Either way, he was now trapped in the room with someone who was trying to kill him. He then heard his phone buzzing, except he couldn’t feel it buzzing in his pocket. Checking his pockets, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the bookshelf in frustration as he realized he must have dropped it, either while running into the school, or when he entered the library. He couldn’t call or text anyone for help now, meaning he was entirely on his own now.

Stiles’ grip tightened on the wrench when Donovan began to speak. “You dropped your phone. It’s Malia, should I text her back?” His tone was somewhat mocking, as if he was trying to get a reaction from Stiles to find out where he was. He couldn’t help but scowl as Donovan said that: he didn’t want him going anywhere near Malia. Even though she could handle herself, he didn’t want her anywhere near the school right now, because he didn’t want her to get hurt. Even though their relationship had gone through its rough patches, they were in the best place they could be right now, and he was starting to realize that he was head over heels for the girl.

Stiles was shaken from his thoughts when Donovan started to speak again. “You don’t know who I am, do you Stiles? Maybe you uh, heard about my father. Did your dad tell you about him? Did Sheriff Stilinski ever tell you about the time he was still a deputy and his partner got caught in a shootout?” Stiles’ eyes narrowed as Donovan continued to speak, as his dad had told him bits and pieces about it, though he had never been told the whole story. Donovan’s tone sounded somewhat sad as he spoke, though Stiles couldn’t really find it in himself to focus on the tone.

“Did he tell you a bullet shattered my dad’s T9 vertebra? Went right through his spinal cord, do you know what that means?” There was anger in Donovan’s tone as he continued. “It means everything below his waist is useless, not just his legs. I bet he told you some of it.” Stiles took a breath as he listened to what Donovan was saying, looking down as he did. And then, the other man spoke again. “But I bet he probably left out the part where he was sitting in a car calling for backup while my dad went in alone.” His tone changed once again as he changed tactics to draw Stiles out, who was scowling at Donovan from his hiding spot.

“Did he tell that he was too scared? Too much of a frightened little bitch? Or do scared little bitches not tell their little bitch sons about their failures? About how they put their partners in a wheelchair for the rest of their lives?” All the time that Donovan was speaking, Stiles was trying his hardest not to react, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Someone insulting his father was something that he had always reacted badly to, but if he were to react badly now, it could end with him being severely injured. Clenching his fists, he saw that Donovan was starting to walk up to the second floor of the library: moving around the bookshelf, so he was more obscured by it, he turned and rested against it as he listened.

After a moment, the footsteps had stopped, and he couldn’t hear Donovan moving about. Keeping his grip tight on the wrench, Stiles took a deep breath as he continued to listen out for any sign that it was unsafe to move, but he couldn’t hear Donovan’s movements at all. Deciding that it was time to try and make a move for it, he stepped forward, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and slammed against the bookshelf. Grabbing at the hand on his shoulder, he was struggling to break free when he was pulled backwards, Donovan dragging him through the bookshelf and slamming him to the ground hard.

Dropping the wrench, he let out a groan as he was pulled up, and dragged towards the scaffolding. As he was slammed against it, Stiles let out a yell, and he felt instinct taking over: there really wasn’t any time for thinking. Squirming in Donovan’s grasp, he wildly threw his elbow backwards, catching him in the side of the head. Regaining his footing, he faced the scaffolding and move forward, starting to scale it as he heard a frustrated scream behind him. He had only gotten partway up when he felt Donovan’s grip on his leg, and he let out a grunt at the pressure, struggling to climb forward.

“Don’t worry Stiles, I’m not gonna kill you.” Donovan’s voice became distorted as he continued to speak and shift into his Wendigo form. “I’m just gonna eat your legs!” Stiles looked below him, to see that Donovan’s eyes had become pure white, and that he was growling at him. Letting out a yell, he tried to climb further up the scaffolding, but he couldn’t break out of the vice like grip on his leg. Hearing the snapping of teeth sent him further into a panic, but then he looked up and saw the pin: it was holding up more of the scaffolding, which had some metal braces on it. If he could pull the pin, he might be able to bury Donovan and give himself a chance to escape. Letting out a grunt, and then a yell as he tried to reach the pin, his mind and thought process went into overdrive as he was nearly pulled down a few more times.

This is not how I die, it can’t be! This…This will hurt them all, my dad, Scott, Malia, Lydia… The entire pack. These thoughts kept running through Stiles’ head as he finally managed to grab the pin. Twisting and turning it, he let out a yell as he managed to pull it, and part of the scaffolding fell through the bars, releasing the braces. Grasping the part he had climbed onto, he raised his head as the sound of metal going through something sounded. Turning his head, he felt relief and horror bubble in his stomach as he saw that one of the braces had gone straight through Donovan’s chest, impaling him. Climbing down, he hesitantly approached the impaled Chimera, staring at the brace. Wrapping his hands around the top of it, Stiles was about to try and pull it out when Donovan started to growl at him, hatred clear on his face. It was the growling that caused him to stop before he even moved it, and his breath hitched when Donovan’s head fell back.

He’s dead…I killed him….Oh god. Stiles could only repeat this thought in his head as he felt like his chest was tightening, realizing he had just taken a life…And this time, it was because of his own actions, not those of the Nogitsune. He could no longer say that it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't a killer. He'd taken a life, and he had no idea how to tell his father, or Scott... Or anyone for that matter..

Chapter Text

Staring at his evidence board, Stiles felt tears come to his eyes as he stared at the words ‘Donovan dead’. He had only just written them, but they were already causing the guilt he was feeling to start to overwhelm him. The fact that Donovan’s body had been nowhere to seen after the deputy who had been sent out identified it as a prank call. If it weren’t for the drop of blood he had found, he would have been convinced that he had hallucinated what had happened.

As his lower lip quivered, and he saw his hands shaking, Stiles approached the board and began to erase the words. They weren’t erasing as fast as he would have liked, and after a moment, he let out a frustrated yell as he threw the eraser at the board, the words ‘Donovan dead’ only partially erased. Rubbing his shoulder where Donovan had bit him, he stared at his board, feeling his guilt start to increase. What he didn’t know was at that moment, his father had just arrived home, and he had heard Stiles’. He hadn’t expected his son to be up, and he could feel his worry for Stiles increase when he had heard the yell.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" Noah called out as he began to walk up the stairs.

Feeling his eyes widen as he heard his father call out to him, Stiles’ hand dropped from his shoulder, and he grabbed the eraser. Frantically scrubbing at the board, he was trying to erase the words that condemned him as quickly as he could. The pain in his shoulder was flaring up as he erased frantically, though he was ignoring it as best he could. Just as his father got to his bedroom door, the words were finally erased from the board, and Stiles stepped back.

“Stiles?” Noah called to his son, noticing that his hair seemed to be in a bit of a disarray, and he seemed to be overly anxious, more so than usual. While he had only been a bit worried a few moments ago, he was finding himself more worried now that his son seemed to be distressed.

Stiles turned to his father, doing his best to ignore the intense pain that had flared up in his injured shoulder. He knew that he looked like he was on the verge of a full-blown anxiety or panic attack, but he was struggling to keep himself calm. He had hoped that his dad wouldn’t be home until he got up before school, at least that way he would be able to try and act calmer. Nodding shakily, he managed to find his voice. “Yeah dad…I’m fine.”

Raising his eyebrow at his son, Noah knew from his sons tone that he was anything but fine. It was the same tone he had first used after the events with the Nogitsune, and while he hadn’t called him up on it then, he felt that he needed to call him up on it now. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine, you looked freaked out.” Stepping further into the room, he looked past Stiles to the evidence board, noticing that there were still faint marks from whatever it was that had been erased. “What were you writing? Or, erasing in this case.” His tone was measured, somewhat suspicious as he had no idea what he could have written that would have him this freaked out.

Looking at his feet, Stiles knew that his dad could see through his lie. He was anything but fine: he’d taken a life tonight, and then there had been almost no trace of it ever happening. The fact he had found blood on a beam and the bite mark on his shoulder were the only evidence there had been any sort of fight. When he was asked what he had written on the board and then erased, his gaze flickered back up to his dad, and then to his board. How could he tell his dad that there was a very good chance he had killed someone, even if it was in self-defence? As he tried to figure out what to say, he felt an all familiar tightening in his chest, and he was suddenly struggling to breath properly: he was beginning to suffer from a panic attack.

Noah saw that whatever it was had worked Stiles into such a state that he was now suffering from a panic attack. Moving forward, he took his sons hand into his, and forced him to look at him. “Stiles buddy, you need to calm down. Deep breaths, in and out.” He took deep breaths himself, trying to coax him down from his attack. It took a few minutes, but Stiles began to take deep breaths, focusing on his father to try and calm himself down. While it took longer than it usually would in the past, it did work, and he could feel himself calming down.

Once he was breathing normally, and the panic attack was averted, Noah looked at his son, worry clear in his eyes. Stiles had been through so much in his life, and it pained him to see him falling apart because of it. Squeezing Stiles’ hands, he began to speak. “Whatever it is son, you don’t have to---“

“I killed Donovan.” Stiles hadn’t meant to interrupt his father, or even to blurt out those three words, but they were the ones that his brain had supplied him with. Not willing or able to look his dad in the eyes, he looked at his badge instead, trying to avoid his fathers gaze.

To say Stiles’ statement bewildered Noah was an understatement. He was shocked by the three words that had left his sons mouth, since he had never expected him to say them. How could he have killed Donovan? Yes, the teenager had gone missing, but for Stiles to have killed him? He needed the whole story. “Stiles, what do you mean by that?” Noah’s tone was controlled, but worry was quite clear in it.

“He…He attacked me, at the school. The jeep was acting up, and I was trying to fix it. He bit me…with his hand. He had this…this weird mouth in his hand, and it bit my shoulder. He had such a tight grip around my neck after he let go, and I was desperate. I headbutted him, and grabbed my wrench. I smacked him in the head, and I started running to the school. He followed me.” Stiles stopped talking for only a second, his hand leaving his dads so he could rub at his shoulder.

Noah stopped Stiles’ hand as it went to his shoulder, he stopped it and with little resistance from the teenager, pulled the shirt back so he could look at the wound. The sight of it, the skin all red and puckered and the teeth marks, caused him to feel sick to his stomach. “He did this to you?” While there was anger evident in his tone, Noah wasn’t angry at his son: he was angry at Donovan for doing this to Stiles.

All Stiles could do was nod at his father’s question, as he began to speak again. “I went to the library, thinking I’d be safe. He couldn’t get in without a student card. But…he did, and I don’t know whose card he used. He had my phone, I…I couldn’t call or text anyone. And Malia texted me, and he was taunting me. Taunted me about texting her, and then about you…About you, and his partner. Called you a scared little bitch…. called me a little bitch as well. And I wanted to go at him, but…But I knew he’d just hurt me. So, I kept hiding…And he went up the stairs. Or, at least I thought he had. He was behind my hiding spot a minute later, and he pulled me through.” Looking at the ground, Stiles wasn’t sure how he could tell his dad the rest.

Sighing as Stiles continued to speak, Noah felt the all familiar cold feeling of guilt. The incident that had paralyzed Donovan’s father was something that he still regretted, but he didn’t see it as a reason for Donovan to go after Stiles. The fact that he’d been able to access the library with a student card was also troublesome: he’d need to investigate that. But…the call that had come to the station, it had been about a disturbance at the library, though it had turned out to be a prank call. What had happened there, was all Noah could wonder. Noticing his son’s hesitation to continue, he squeezed the hand that was still in his, reassuring him that he could continue.

Looking at his father’s hand squeezing his own, Stiles found his voice again, and took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. “He dragged me to the scaffolding, and slammed me against it. I’d dropped the wrench at this point. I managed to hit him with my elbow, and I started climbing. But he climbed after me, and he grabbed my legs. He said he’d eat my legs…I was reaching for a pin in the scaffolding, trying to bury him in the materials just so I could run. But, when I pulled the pin…One of the braces, it went right through him. And he died…Oh god, he died. I’m so sorry dad.” The tears that Stiles had been holding back finally started to stream down his cheeks, and he felt himself being wracked by sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

As soon as Stiles burst into tears, Noah pulled his son close to him, wrapping his arms around him in a comforting hug. He was being mindful of Stiles’ injured shoulder, but his heart broke for his son. His actions had clearly been self-defence and unintentional, and yet he was beating himself up so much for it. “It’s okay Stiles, it’s going to be okay. It was self-defence: you did the right thing.” Holding his son close, he felt tears come to his own eyes, though he did his best to blink them away.

Hearing his dad say that he had done the right thing, that it had been self-defence, it caused Stiles to pause as he cried. He hadn’t expected to hear those words, not from his dad: he had thought through every scenario of how his father would react, and not once had he thought that he would tell him he was right to act the way he had. Looking up, he tried to stop his sobbing, managing to speak through them. “But I…I killed him.”

Wiping Stiles’ tears, Noah shook his head. “You acted in self-defence, and in fear for your life. You didn’t know what would happen, but you knew he wouldn’t stop coming for you, or for me. I’m concerned because my deputy found no trace of any of that, but we’ll deal with that. I want you to know that I’m not disappointed in you Stiles.” Just as he was about to continue speaking, Stiles’ phone started to ring, and both Stilinski men looked at it.

When Stiles saw that it was Scott calling, he felt his panic start to rise again. Telling his dad had been one thing, his dad was being so understanding. But Scott wanted to save everyone, and he refused to kill: how would he react to his best friend having taken a life, when he wasn’t possessed and was in full control of his action.

Seeing Stiles’ panic, Noah squeezed his sons uninjured shoulder before unwrapping his arms around him and going to the phone. Answering it, he spoke. “Scott, it’s Stiles’ dad. He’s asleep right now, but I can tell him why you called.” Listening to the words of his son’s best friend, he raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s taking the bodies of the Chimera’s? You’re sure?” As Scott affirmed he was sure, Noah nodded. “Okay, we’ll deal with this in the morning. Good night Scott.” Hanging up, he put his sons phone down, and turned to him.

Even though this news confirmed that Stiles had indeed killed Donovan in self-defence, he felt assured: his father had prevented him from having to deal with this right now, and now they knew why his 911 call had been reported as a prank. While he would need to tell Scott and the pack soon, he didn’t need to do it right now. Walking over to his dad, Stiles wrapped his arms in a hug around him, and rested his head against his shoulder. Things weren't fully sorted yet, but with his dad's support, he was hoping they would be alright.

Chapter Text

For the last few days, Stiles had been plagued by his guilt and anxiety, trying to act like his usual self: he knew that there was a good chance Scott, Malia or any of the Werewolves in the pack would be able to tell that something was up with him. His chemosignals were all over the place, and he had a feeling that he stunk of anxiety and guilt. He hadn’t even realized that his act was seen through by Allison whenever she was around him, as she had seen him act like this before.

In the weeks after the Nogitsune had been defeated and she had recovered from the stab wound the Oni had inflicted on her, he had tried to act like his old self around her, despite the guilt of being the Nogitsune’s vessel overwhelming him. She had seen through it then, and had called him out on it, trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

Staring at his homework, Stiles was trying to concentrate on it, and not the events of the past week. The trip to Eichen house had been a disaster, with the Dread Doctors nearly capturing them, and seeing the Sluagh take on Donovan’s form had only served to make his already overwhelming anxiety even worse. What had made it worse was the fact that, after reading the Dread Doctor’s book, he had remembered one of the worst events of his young life: his mother attacking him and accusing him of trying to kill her. His grip tightened on his pen as he remembered her attacking him, and how she had kept screaming at him: it wasn’t a wonder that he had repressed the memory.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a sharp knocking at the front door. Frowning as he went over, Stiles opened the door and was surprised when he saw Allison standing in front of him. It wasn’t often that she visited him without the other pack members, though it wasn’t uncommon for her to do so.

“Hi Stiles. We need to talk.” While her tone was relatively calm, there was a hint of authority and urgency to it. She was concerned for him, considering how he had been acting off for the last few days. She wasn’t sure if anyone else in the pack had noticed, though Malia had seemed to notice when they had been reading the Dread Doctor’s book a couple of nights ago. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped into the house.

Letting her go past him, Stiles just closed the door, trying not to overthink the reason she wanted to talk to him. It could be about anything, he knew that. Leading Allison to the living room, he sat down and as nonchalantly as possible spoke, though it was clear he was anxious. “What do we need to talk about?”

Noticing his anxiety as she sat down in the armchair by the couch, Allison frowned. “About why you’re so anxious, and why you’ve been practically avoiding us for the last few days. Since before we went to Eichen, you’ve been off.” It was clear that she was worried about him, especially when he seemed so nervous to be talking to her. Something had t have happened, and if he felt he couldn’t tell them, it had to be serious.

Looking at the ground, so that he wouldn’t have to meet Allison’s gaze, Stiles didn’t know what to say. He knew he could try lying, but she was good at seeing through his lies, especially considering how much he had been lying that he was fine after the Nogitsune put them all through hell. “It’s nothing, really. We’re all a little off.” He knew that trying to deflect it, to act like it was just the stress of everything wouldn’t really work, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Shaking her head, Allison’s frown intensified. Yes, everyone was a bit off, but it was more than that with Stiles. He hadn’t acted like this, secretive and withdrawn, since she had been laid up due to the Oni’s attack on her. It was almost like he was guilt over something, but she couldn’t imagine what it could be that was causing him to feel this way. As she was about to dispute that everyone was being off was why he was acting this way, when she saw that he was rubbing his shoulder. He had told them that the jeep’s hood had slammed down onto it, but she was now thinking it was something more. “It’s not just that Stiles. You’re acting like you did when I was in the hospital. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” There was a bit of a pleading tone in her voice: she wanted to help him, because she hated seeing any of the pack members like this.

Stiles’ hand had moved to rub his shoulder without him even thinking about it, it had been a subconscious move. Continuing to stare at the floor as Allison spoke, he knew that she wouldn’t let this go: that wasn’t who she was. But he couldn’t tell her, or anyone, that he had blood on his hands. After the Nogitsune, it had been so easy to think that it wasn’t him, though it had taken him a long time to believe it himself. But now, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t a killer, not when that beam had gone right through Donovan because of him. Trying to shake these thoughts, he opened his mouth to reassure her that he was okay, but that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “I killed someone, Allison.”

Allison’s eyes went wide as Stiles told her that he had killed someone. If he meant the Nogitsune’s victims, she was sure that he had finally accepted that it wasn’t his fault, that it was just the fact it had his face. But, the way he was acting, the fact he was rubbing his injured shoulder… He must have been attacked the other night, before they went to Eichen. “Stiles, you need to tell me what you mean. You killed someone?” Her tone was soft and soothing, letting him know that she wouldn’t judge him.

Finally looking at Allison, Stiles saw the understanding and worry in her eyes, and he knew she needed the full story. Taking a deep breath, he began to tell her what had happened. “The jeep was stalled, and it was late. I was at the school, and Donovan snuck up on me. He attacked me with this weird mouth on his hand, but I managed to fight him off and hit him with my wrench. I ran into the school, to the library, but I dropped my phone on the way there. He…He got in, he had a student ID, I don’t know whose. He found me, and tried to attack me again. I…I was desperate, I started climbing the scaffolding to escape, but he followed me. And I saw a pin, just one pin: I managed to pull it, and all these braces came tumbling down. One went right through him, and after a moment, he…He died. I killed him.” Taking another breath, Stiles felt the tears in his eyes, though he quickly told her that Donovan’s body was gone, and there had been no sign there had ever been a fight.

Listening to Stiles’ entire story, Allison felt her eyes fill with tears and her heart break for her friend: he had been through so much, suffered just as much as everyone in the pack had, but now he was suffering even more. He had done the right thing though: it was him or Donovan, and he hadn’t acted in cold blood. Getting up and going over to Stiles, she pulled him into a gentle hug, trying to comfort him as best she could. “It’s okay Stiles, it’s going to be okay. You acted in self-defence, and you did what you had to.” She spoke soothingly, trying to keep him as calm as possible.

Returning Allison’s hug, Stiles broke down as she comforted him, sobs wracking his body as tears streamed down his face. He knew that he’d had no choice, but convincing his heart that he had made the right choice wasn’t an easy thing to do. Allison’s assurance though, it was helping him, and it was allowing him to vent properly. He knew he’d need to tell the rest of the pack, and that there would be more tears, but it didn’t seem as hard now that someone else knew.