Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Sixty Nine

I stood in the doorway of the Sheriff's office. Stiles and Mr. Stilinski were arguing, and I kept checking the clock. It ticked closer and closer to throughout the night, and I was getting antsy.

"Dad, Scott and Kira have been kidnapped and taken to Mexico, okay? I think that's a pretty good reason for a trip to Mexico!" Stiles argued. Mr. Stilinski shook his head.

"Okay. Even if Deaton is right about this, the best thing to do is to go through the proper channels!" Mr. Stilinski countered. Stiles went to say something, but the Sheriff rolled right over him. "That means calling the right law enforcement agencies, border patrol, putting out an all-points..."

"Dad, We can't just wait around for the wheels of bureaucracy to start spinning in five different government offices, okay? Someone needs to go down there right now, find them, and rescue them! I'm going," Stiles said. Mr. Stilinski looked back towards me, and he frowned, glancing down at the knife strapped to my leg. I crossed my arms.

"Y/n, are you sure about this?" He asked. I pursed my lips.

"Sir, you know I'm going. I don't want to put Stiles in danger—"

"Y/n!" Stiles shouted, exasperation clear on his face. I ignored him.

"—But, you know neither of us can stop him when he puts his mind to something. That being said, we're not going alone, and I'll keep him safe. You know I'm good for my word," I finished. Mr. Stilinski sighed, running his hands over is head.

"I really don't like this," he said. Stiles glared at the both of us.

"Neither do I, but he's my brother, and Kira's my friend. You would do everything in your power to save the people you love, right?" I asked. Mr. Stilinski groaned.

"I want you to check in with me. Both of you. If I don't hear anything— I swear to god—"

"Dad, we will. We'll be okay," Stiles said. They hugged, and I stepped out of the door. I let them finish, as I waited in Stiles' Jeep. Malia called to let me know she was waiting at my house. After a couple of minutes, the door slamming shut shook me out of my thoughts. I blinked over at Stiles, who was staring at me for a moment. "Really?" He said.

"What?"

"You'll keep me safe?" He asked incredulously. I smiled slyly at him.

"That's right, pretty boy. Now, start the car."

—

I handed Malia a shirt. She sniffed it, and her face morphed into a frown.

"Fabric softener," she muttered. I raised my eyebrows, and Stiles sighed.

"Remember, Scott's life is on the line," he said. She grumbled something, but I handed her his old jersey. Her frown turned into a grimace, but she nodded, catching the scent. We walked downstairs, and I saw a figure standing in the hall. I pulled my knife from the sheath, and I crept closer. The person turned to face me, letting out a yelp.

"Oh, Jesus! Liam! What the hell?!" I exclaimed. Stiles almost ran into my back, as I backed up a couple of feet. Liam looked hesitant and Stiles groaned.

"Liam, go home. You're not coming with us," he said harshly.

"Why not?" Liam asked. Stiles crossed his arms.

"Uh— Because it's a full moon, and I don't feel like driving all the way down to Mexico just to have you rip our throats out."

"You can lock me up, right? Chain me down to the backseat or something?" Liam pleaded. Malia appeared next to me, looking the boy over suspiciously.