˚ ༘ ✶ ₊ ˚. ི CHAPTER 26.
࿐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵗʳⁱ
THE BEAST OF GEVAUDAN.
Originally a human in the late 1700s, the time of the original Gevaudan attacks. The Argents know the story of Sebastien Valet, a French soldier in the 1760s. While running from British soldiers in Canada, transformed by drinking rain water from the paw print left in the mud. Changed into a monstrous werewolf surrounded by shadows, it's evil nature only worsened by the darkness of the man. A monster made into itself.
During the time of the original attacks in Gevaudan, many people believed that the Beast simply killed for sport, as it never indulged itself on its victims and would only target the head and neck of its prey. Like a wolf gone mad. Sebastien's best friend, Marcel, covered up his heinous crimes until his sister, Marie-Jeanne Valet discovered the truth.
His horrors could continue no longer.
To kill the Beast, one would need a weapon that will use the beast's weight against itself. Something stronger than what's been made in the past, stronger than a crossbow or a True Alpha.
And Marie-Jeanne was victorious in her battle, plunging a blade of wolfsbane and mistletoe through her kin— the memory of Sebastien erased from history thanks to the Argents of the time. Every mention, every signature, every possession and asset burned to ash. But now, the modern day Beast still caused havoc throughout Beacon Hills with the help of The Dread Doctors. Broadcasting frequencies to force the chimera to manifest the beast nightly, bring it to life so it can remember what it used to be.
As the beast gets smarter and regains the memories of its former life, it's former terrors, the man inside is forgotten, gone forever.
No one wants to lose Mason, they won't.
Whisked away by Corey, not even Scott can find his scent. The trail starts and ends at the car where they tracked him the first time. It's a terrifying thought— knowing that while they can't find him, the Dread Doctors can.
But they can't do much when two of their strongest are limping up the front porch steps of the McCall house. They're both healing ever so slowly, their mental concentration less on their bleeding wounds and instead on the looming threat of a maniacal and unstoppable Beast terrorizing their town.
Kira, who seems to be more herself than she was a few hours ago, figures it's best to take Scott up to his room to take a breather and lay down for even a few minutes. And if anyone can get Scott to relax for even a second it might be Kira. Stiles would be no help seeing as he was fully focused on Peter at the moment.
The spider drops himself on the couch after making sure there's no blood on his clothes that could stain the furniture, shutting his eyes and sucking in a deep breath and exhaling heavily.
Stiles kneels in front of him, hands on his knees with a concerning smile. "Pete, are you sure you're okay?"
Peter nods, hand covering Stiles' gently. "Yeah— yeah, I'll be okay. Just... need a minute."
It was a defeating feeling, seeing the man you love to just sit and writhe in pain and know there nothing you can do. Stiles could kiss and try to massage the pain away, but nothing except time would truly mend the broken bones and bruised muscles. If Peter were ordinary— Stiles doesn't want to acknowledge how many times over Peter would've died. He's eternally grateful for that stupid spider, the one who made Peter exceptional.
But only Peter made Peter take those hits. Only Peter would be the one to chase after that Beast without so much of a second to hesitate. That's what made Peter truly extraordinary. He was the one who fought beside Scott when the entire school was running the opposite direction. He was the one who made jokes and tried to make others smile with it truly felt like the world was crashing down on them. That was the Peter Stiles loved through and through.
"You stress me out." Stiles shakes his head, plopping down on the floor with his back to the couch, laying his head down on Peter's knee. No matter the time crunch, Stiles always remembered to appreciate the times he and Peter got to simply... exist together. "You're damn lucky I love you or I would've beat your ass."
Peter finally smiles. "Do you remember our how we spent Labor Day? That long weekend right after school started?"
It's out of place and the wrong time to be taking a stroll down memory lane, but Peter can't bare to think about how it felt to look into the eyes of Beast anymore. He needs to distract himself; and Stiles was always the best cure.
Stiles hums, "Oh, now that's a nice thought. I still can't believe Aunt May agreed."
Peter grinned cheekily, letting his hand move to Stiles' head, fingers moving through the grown out brunette hair. "She loves sightseeing, especially when it ends with wine in a nice hotel room."
A day trip towards the coast of California. It was still warm out in Northern California around Labor Day, most people flood the beaches and tourist traps to spend one of the few holidays that occur during the summer— but Peter and Stiles had slightly different plans.
With hesitant permission from Sheriff Stilinski, Aunt May agreed to take a road trip with the two boys and see some of the more interesting sights along the coast. Hiking trials and waterfalls that were too picturesque to be real. But when night fell and Aunt May retired to their tiny rented cabin at a nearby camping ground; Peter and Stiles had been restless.
Even an entire day of hiking couldn't tire two teenage boys out. So they promised to keep their phones on them and climbed the rocky mountain side and found an accessible beach. The water was too cold to get in, so they resorted to laying out a blanket and just stargazing. It was cliche and cheesy, but they didn't care too much about that.
Without the looming threat of death and supernatural chaos— Stiles and Peter encountered an opportunity to be people they'd never been before.
Teenagers in love.
Stiles laid out flat on the blanket, legs bent slightly so his heels could dig into the sand— unable to sit completely still despite being at complete peace. Peter was laying in the other direction, head resting on Stiles's stomach as they both gazed at the dark sky above them. Without all the loudness and lights from the cities, this sky looked different than the one back home. It was calmer, brighter, stars shimmering and dazzling without a cloud to be seen. Even the moon was showing off, a skinny curve glowing glamorously.
Their hands mingling together, fingers gliding through each other as they memorized how it felt to touch so much. Each indent and childhood scar, fingers without nails after being chewed to the quick, yet all the callousness and bitten skin— it was silky smooth.
"When did you know you were gay?" Stiles hummed quietly, his other hand digging through Peter's hair, noticing the brunette was longer than it had been all summer. It was slightly dry, dried out by the saltiness of the air. "Like... really know."
The question didn't scare Peter so much any more. Maybe in middle school and freshman year when kids were unapologetically cruel and brutally honest. Back when foul language was used as often as conjunctions. He'd never been able to hide it, it seemed. Even when he wasn't sure who he was, it seemed everyone else knew. Terrible names, loud opinions, and an entire world telling him who he was and all he ever would be. The gay nerdy kid who's parents died.
But now, only one year left of high school— he was so much more than that. He was Spider-Man. He was a hero. He was a friend. A lover. A soulmate. He was part of something bigger than everything they thought he ever could be. And i'm the middle of all that, yeah... he was a gay nerdy kid.
But he liked that.
"Uh..." He thought momentarily. "I guess I always knew. I guess as soon as crushes became a thing... it was always boys."
It falls quiet.
"What about you?"
Stiles thought long and hard. "Freshman year of high school. Scott had this crush on some girl in our English class, way out of his league too. She was a senior. I had never realized that him and I... didn't see the same things. Cause I thought her boyfriend was way hotter than her."
Peter smiled. He wondered who this girl was, who this older boy was that captured the attention of 15 year old Stiles.
And he remembered that feeling of a forming crush. He remembered seeing Stiles for the first time at Beacon Hills High School, and had technically meet that year at lacrosse tryouts. Peter sat on the opposite side of the bench all season— ogling.
He knew Stiles didn't even remember.
"When I told my Aunt and Uncle— my Aunt had said that she was just waiting and then pulled out a rainbow apron and hung it in the kitchen." Peter remembered fondly, never forgetting how lucky he was that May was his aunt, that he still had her.
Stiles smiled gently. "Uh... A couple weeks after I met you I told my dad. Well... technically, he asked me if we were dating with a handful of curly fries in his mouth, so..."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was never really sure... thought I could make it go away by pretending to like Lydia. It was really confusing for a while, I guess. Then I met you—- and I didn't want those feelings to go away all of a sudden. It felt like... those feelings finally made sense."
Peter got up from his spot, Stiles following in suit with a confused expression.
"We never talked about it..." Peter folded his legs in, poking the sand absentmindedly. "It's a big thing, you know?"
But Stiles knew something different. He knew that even though he didn't owe it anyone to come out or be so public with his relationship, he knew that he never wanted to hide Peter Parker from anyone. Peter was always unapologetically himself, always with open arms just to make sure everyone else had a safe place to land.
To be loved was like a drug, addictive... awakening. Peter Parker made Stiles realize that he didn't care what people thought or people said. He just wanted to be in love. All the In front of people, in private, in front of people, in school, in the Jeep, everywhere and anywhere all the time. Gay, bisexual, bi-curious, labels simply didn't matter. All he knew was that he needed Peter Parker in his life, and he didn't care about much else.
So one day, he held a boys hand in the hallways. The next, kisses by the locker. They got some odd stares and were sure some people were grumbling— but Stiles couldn't have been happier. And now— they were cuddling on a blanket under the stars.
Nothing would stop him from being happy.
"Guess so. Didn't really care, I guess. Besides, we had a hit list for supernatural creatures to worry about. Other people's opinion about who I wanted to kiss was kinda on the back burner."
They laughed about their unique love story, a tale of romance and love surrounded by horror and chaos. And they'd spent the rest of the night making out. They spent the entire drive home holding hands in the backseat. Too strong to be torn apart by any force.
It was one of the best nights of their entire lives. Stiles talked about everything and anything, spilling his guts out to his boyfriend with every thought he had. And Peter talked some too, about some of the people he'd helped before he'd met the pack, petty thieves and such, and about Uncle Ben and a few other memories not many people knew about.
Every word, every minute in silence where they simply got caught up staring, and every gentle kiss shared between them was cherished. It was a short trip, barely two days long, and they were back to school on Monday— but it was one of the best weekends of their lives.
"Why are you thinking about that?" Stiles turns his head slightly, picking at Peter's raggedy shoelaces. "Not that I'm blaming you..."
Peter shrugged. It wasn't just now, he'd thought about that night a lot. One of those nights where it was more solidified than ever that Stiles was the one in a million. The only one for him, the one for him. "I dunno... hey, do you think you should go check on them?"
Stiles laid his head backwards onto the couch cushion, "I think— we should go on another vacation after all this. Maybe Christmas break, we do a day trip to another beach."
Peter pushed his head gently, "One thing at a time, hot shot— go check on the big bad wolf."
"Why don't you go do it? I'm quite comfortable here, actually."
Peter flicked the back to his head, "Because I am healing my organs. It takes time. And a really nice couch. I'm practically bed ridden."
Grunting as he stood, Stiles turned to face Peter before leaning over and lifting his shirt. Beyond the flutter of his heart that always happened when he saw Peter's physique— he could only smile when he'd noticed all the cuts and scratches were mostly superficial now. Like weeks had passed in a matter of hours. "Huh— look at that. Just super hot abs. All your organs seem fine to me."
With a sly smile, Stiles' hand moved slightly up Peter's shirt, roaming his side and chest, even finding its way up to his collarbones for a while. "Oh yeah— seems all good to me."
Peter blushed wildly, pushing his hand away. "Go."
"Promise I can do a full examination later? Just to be safe?"
"We can do a lot more than look if we get all this over with. I promise."
Stiles nods giddily in return, leaning in closer so their lips touch for a brief second before twisting on his heel and making for the stairs of the house. Taking the first step up, Stiles glances back for a second and reminds himself not to take moments like this for granted. He sees Peter with his head laid back on the couch, eyes closed gently and taking deep quiet breaths— appreciating the silence. And Stiles reminds himself that he's not just a confused kid sitting in his bedroom wondering if he's insane for not liking Lydia Martin his freshman year, or any girl.
Now he has Peter. He has friends who don't care who he kisses. He had a dad who invites his boyfriend to dinner sometimes. He had everything he ever wanted.
He just needed to keep it.
He cracks the door to Scott's bedroom open slowly, hearing the two teenagers pull away from each other lips slowly, very aware of the faint smile it left on both of their faces. It seems Scott was having the same kind of reflections as he was. Scott lays back and closes his eyes, and Kira turns back to Stiles, a silent nod to communicate that they're okay. And that's plenty enough for him, gently closing the door behind him, only to find Malia and Braeden waiting for him in the hallway.
Their grim expressions don't look good.
"What?" They give each other a knowing look. "What? What did I do? Where's Pete?"
All his anxieties begin to snowball, a recent instinct of his whenever any of his friends were too quiet for too long. It always got his heart racing the wrong way.
Braeden sighs quietly, nudging Malia. "Tell him."
It takes only a second for her to gain some traction with her words, "You know how my mother wants to kill me?" Stiles narrows his eyes, "I think she might want to kill you, too..."
And suddenly, Peter Parker is up the stairs in record time and standing behind them, a gravely concerned look on his face. "Who wants to kill Stiles?"
Stiles looks slightly taken aback, blinking and trying to process it quickly, aware that most teenagers weren't too accustomed to hearing someone was effectively hunting him and his friends. "Well... that's disconcerting... I should probably have a gun."
Peter wedges between Malia and Braeden, shaking his head hastily, taking his spot next to Stiles. "You don't need a gun. You have me."
Braeden agrees for other reasons. "I'm not giving you a gun."
Stiles scoffs, "You have a gun. The Desert Wolf— who is trying to kill me— has a gun. Spider-Man can't be everywhere all the time, I think I should probably have a gun!"
A moment passes, Malia actually considering the possibility and turns back to Braeden and gives her a look. The Marshall only rolls her eyes before she takes out her Sig Sauer, taking off the clip and gives Stiles a wary look before tossing him the unloaded gun. Safety first after all.
Stiles' attempt to catch it is comical at best, with him fumbling to keep it in his hands until it finally clatters to the ground roughly.
"I probably shouldn't have a gun." Stiles hums, "I've got Pete anyway."
Peter nods, grabbing his hand at their sides. "Good idea."
WITHOUT A PLAN AND THE CLOCK ALREADY PAST MIDNIGHT— it's a unsaid agreement that the hunt can only continue in the morning. Or at the very least, some kind of plan can come to fruition. But for now, the entire pack is too mentally and physically exhausted to go on a wild goose chase for a invisible boy who doesn't want to be found.
But everyone has been too afraid to go home alone, so everyone stayed.
Kira stayed in Scott's room, which no one mentioned out loud. Stiles and Peter fell asleep on top of each other on the couch, Peter effectively using Stiles as a weighted blanket. Malia curled up in one of the loveseats with a thin blanket over her legs. The only one on the floor was Liam, sprawled out like a star on the rug with one pillow and his sweatshirt laying over him mimicking a pitiful blanket. The T.V. had been on earlier Peter and Stiles watching mindless game shows until their eyes shut, but the screen was black now as the sunlight broke through the curtains of the living room.
Scott's heartbeat from upstairs woke Peter, Malia, and Liam up all at the same time. The pounding of the Alpha's heart, it was like a dog whistle to those with keen hearing down below. After that, Malia went hunting for breakfast in the kitchen, Liam hunched over his phone as he kept trying to reach Mason via text message.
Peter made it his task to wake up Stiles— and hide his morning wood. Which wasn't his fault at all, he believed, it was near impossible to control himself when Stiles was literally on top of him.
An hour or so whisked by, Stiles eventually waking as a result of Peter accidentally elbowing him in the eye while he'd been trying to eat the PopTart Malia had brought him.
Stiles glanced as his phone from his spot beside Peter on the couch, now splitting said PopTart between the two of them, "My dad's got an APB out."
Kira had appeared downstairs some time ago, her only words being good morning before Lydia asking her about sleeping with Scott had her cheeks burning red. She looked to Stiles now, sipping from a water bottle at the counter. "For a 5'8" sixteen-year-old?"
Stiles shrugged, "I recommended nine-foot-tall rampaging werewolf."
Peter turned his head before anyone else, hearing Scott shuffling down the stairs before them, smiling at the once wounded wolf now put back together with his own smile on his lips. "Hey, Scottie."
Scott nodded his way.
But Liam shook his head, knees pulled up as he leaned against the chair Malia once rested in. "It still might not be him..."
And they all get why he doesn't want to believe it. If it was Stiles who turned into the Beast, or Peter, or even Lydia, would be hard to accept it. It would be hard to imagine someone they'd known so well, someone they cared about, turn into that thing.
No one wanted Mason to be the one responsible. But Liam had to open his eyes at some point.
"...But, Hayden's at the school looking." He sighs.
Scott nods, making his way into the kitchen and grabbing the orange juice carton from the fridge, "My mom can check all the hospitals in the county... we'll find him."
Liam looked between everyone nervously. "What happens then? What happens to Mason?"
"We figure out a way to save him."
The hairs rise on Peter's arms. He stands, as the rest of the group start listing off the best hiding spots they could think of, brushing off the stare from Stiles he feels on his back. He curls around the wall that leads into the kitchen, seeing nothing.
But he feels it.
"Okay. Where else could we look?"
Peter clears his throat. "Let's ask Corey!"
The entire pack turns to face the Spider, frowning deeply.
Peter reaches over toward a cupboard and roughly yanks on what looks like air, which turns into Corey, who has apparently been invisibly eavesdropping on their entire conversation. Corey looks frantic when he sees the appalled expressions on their faces, immediately becoming defensive.
"Wait! Wait! It's not my fault!" He cries out, "They took him, and I couldn't do anything. They took him!"
Scott steps forward, nodding at Peter so he can let the poor kid go from his death grip. "Who? Who did?"
"The Dread Doctors."
ITS AGAINST PETER'S GUT INSTINCT, BUT THEY SPLIT UP TO COVER THE MOST GROUND.
Liam and Scott were taking the least appealing route, attempting to meet with Stiles' least favorite person of the year, Theo himself. Ever since the night of terrors at Eichen when they broke Lydia out of that hellhole, Theo had taken something else.
They went to ask about the Doctors mask.
Peter— he didn't even want to know why someone would want that anyway. And with the new threat of the Desert Wolf hanging over Stiles's head, Peter prefers to go with him and Lydia to the Sheriffs station anyway.
Besides, he hadn't seen Lydia since leaving her with the Argents and Parish in that dingy basement. Although apparently, she'd been having her own crises with him while they were off winning lacrosse games and being thrown into walls.
He appreciated that she'd often texted him throughout the night anyway, short and sweet texts that essentially reminded Peter that she wasn't dead and doing just fine. Enough correspondence to help him sleep at night.
He loved Lydia.
Stiles shakes his head, sliding his phone across the table for what felt like the millionth time, his notification screen still blank and his phone only showing his homescreen of a photo of Peter from a certain beach trip.
No matter how much he likes that picture, a shirtless Peter in only gym shorts that were functioning as swim trunks— half waist deep in freezing cold ocean water that Stiles had refused to follow him into— Stiles was hoping a text from Scott would appear.
"Still nothing from Scott and Liam."
Lydia winces, her arm slack at her side as she allows Peter to doodle with a pen on her hand while he's tucked into the chair beside her. "Are we really sure this is a good idea?"
"Uh, no... No one thinks this is a good idea."
The Sheriff frowns, "But you're trusting Theo anyway?"
"We're not trusting him! We're using him."
Lydia looks at him expectantly, "What if he's using us?"
Peter understands the feeling, he just still hadn't figured out quite why Theo had singled him out so intensely— only to jump off the deep end so quickly. What did it all mean?
"That's probably a given." Stiles grumbles, "But look— we're just trying to cover every place Mason could show up. Malia and Braeden are at Scott's house, Melissa's got the hospital, Hayden and Corey are at the school. Somebody's got to find them."
Lydia sighs, watching Peter sketch out a spider on her hand, "Let's hope they find Mason and not the Beast..."
Hours pass.
Time seems to inch forward, teasing them ruthlessly. And when two of the three friends have a diagnosed problems with sitting still— it's nearly impossible to wait without losing their minds. Lydia has just walked back into the Sheriff's office from the bullpen to find Stiles and Peter right where she left them for a call with Malia, no updates on her end either. Peter is still in his chair, playing some mindless game on his dying phone while Stiles sits on the floor and is leaned back— asleep. It must've been the way Peter's hand in running through his hair rhythmically, like a child's lullaby. His head is thrown back, fallen against Peter's leg with his mouth wide open and quiet snores escaping.
Peter hears her come in, smiling gently.
"Nothing."
Peter smile fades.
Just as the door to the office shuts, Stiles' entire body reacts with a sudden twitch, hands flying up defensively and eyes barely able to focus on whats in front of him, drool on his face. "Mmm, what? What happened? Who's dead?"
Lydia rolls her eyes. "No one— not yet anyway."
The two boys both go to check their notifications, as if they'd miss one in the last thirty seconds. Both of them, nothing at all. All Peter has is a text from Aunt May from two days ago, a pasta recipe she wants to try next time he comes home. Thankfully, she doesn't expect him to be home often. She got over that once he officially told her about him and Stiles, as well as his closeness with his friends became so apparent.
It was hard to give Peter a curfew when she hadn't seen him have any friends in school before. As much as she loved their puzzle nights before— all she'd ever wanted for her nephew was friends like these, someone like Lydia and Stiles to keep an eye on him.
Even if Peter's phone was dying, or somewhere far from home— May could always rest easy knowing he wasn't alone anymore.
Lydia sat next to Peter, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "You two okay"
Stiles sighs, "I'm still thinking. Still trying to figure out... Why Mason? I mean—"
Stiles feels Peter grip onto his shirt tighter and position himself in front of Lydia protectively— only to realize the person barging into the Sheriff station and then the Sheriffs office was Melissa McCall.
Peter instantly relaxes.
Without super hearing, Stiles hadn't even finished speaking by the time she was in the room. "... isn't even on the genetic chimera list?"
Melissa rushes into the room with a messy medical file in her hands, which she immediately opens and places on the Sheriff's desk with a tired huff. "He is now."
All three waste no time getting to their feet in a hurry and shuffling over.
"Mason was born with twin embolization syndrome."
Lydia furrows her brows, looking closer at the jumble of words on the page. "You mean fetal resorption?"
"Like— a vanishing twin?" Even Peter remembered enough from his AP biology class, as a designated science geek. "As in two sets of DNA?"
Stiles looks between all of them, "Can someone please say it with words that have less than three syllables?"
And Peter can't simplify it anymore with a less disgusted look growing on his face. "He ate his twin?"
Stiles mimicked the face. "Oh god..."
"But did it help?"
Melissa shrugs, "I don't know. But it's just bizarre enough to sound like it might be important, right?"
"It has to help. There has to be something."
AUTHOR SPEAKS !
peter and stiles are so
charlie spring and nick nelson coded
it's literally insane
anyway i spat this chapter out
who knows if it's good idk
anyway i graduated college
and broke up with my boyfriend
of two years. new year new me?
spread love
and never trust men
— spidermandes