The Huntress {Stiles Stilinski}

Restraint - Weapon of vengeance

  Raelynn's P.O.V.

Since we found Jackson wrapped warmly in a coat in the Sheriff's office with his father, Scott, Stiles and I managed to sneak off to call Allison and tell her what had happened. "If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing," she says as she carries on with our theory, "then he probably doesn't know that someone's controlling him."

"Or he doesn't remember," Scott suggests.

"What if it's the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital," Stiles says.

"A fugue state?" Allison asks.

"He'd have to forget everything," I say. "The murder, getting rid of the blood."

"Yeah, he had help with one thing though - the video," Stiles says. "And someone else helped him forget that."

"Whoever's controlling him," Scott finishes, and Stiles and I nod together.

"Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?" Allison double checks.

"He thinks he's still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing," I tell her.

"So do we try and convince him he's not?"

"If it helps us find out who's controlling him, then yeah," Scott nods.

"Do you think he'll talk to us after what we did?" I ask.

"Yeah," Stiles scoffs. "It's us. He'll to talk to us. Right?"

I make a face of uncertainty, and Scott gives us both a look before we have to go back into the interviewing room for the final judgement of the punishment we'll be getting. Melissa is stood inside, Mr. Whittemore glaring at us as we walk in. I halt in my tracks as I see my mom stood there, her arms crossed and eyes shooting daggers into me. Stiles pushes me a little, making me take a seat. Sheriff walks in, glances at my mom and then stands at the head of the table with a clipboard in his hand.

"You will not go within 50 feet of Jackson Whittemore," Sheriff reads, and I can feel all of the parents' eyes on us. "You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."

There's a short pause where Sheriff throws the clipboard down onto the table, before Stiles says, "What about school?"

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a 50 foot distance," Sheriff answers. I glance up at Mom, but she's glaring at me, so I lower my eyes again.

"Bu - okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time and there's only two stalls available and they're only right next to each other?" All of the adults roll their eyes and throw their arms into the air, except my mom; she stays icy cold, her fixed stare never wavering. At the reaction from all the parent's and the glare he gets from Sheriff, he puts his mouth into a pout. "I'll just hold it."

Melissa then walks forward, and Scott shoots up out of his chair like he's been bitten by a snake. Mom takes one step forwards and I'm up out of my seat, heading towards the door. I motion to Stiles to wait for me in the hallway, and he nods yes as I walk past him.

"Raelynn," Mom shouts as I attempt to walk out of her way. I stop and turn, and her arms are crossed over her chest, eyes icy. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to get a call at night, telling me that my daughter needs picking up from the police station?"

"Well, at least you knew it wasn't Allison when you picked up the phone," I snap. "Allison would never do something like this."

"Raelynn, stop," Mom shouts a little louder. "You realize punishments will have to be given-"

"Punishments?" I laugh, shaking my head at her. "You hold no authority over me anymore. Sheriff does."

She grips onto my arm, and I wince a little. "I am still your mother."

"Some mother," I mutter, snatching my arm out of her grasp and walking off to find Stiles. Sheriff is giving him a word, so I stay out of the way until he clicks his fingers, making me walk over. "Yeah?"

"How could the two of you be so stupid?" he hisses. "Do I need to remind the both of you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" I shake my head but Stiles proceeds to answer.

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke," he says with a shrug. So that's what our alibi is? A joke.

"It was a joke?" Sheriff asks, his eyes flickering between the two of us.

"Yes, I didn't think it would be taken this seriously," Stiles continues. "Dad, humor's very subjective, okay? I mean, we we're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."

"Uh-huh," Sheriff says slowly. "Okay, well, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

"We filled the tank!" Stiles says, waving his hands about. I cover my eyes with my hand briefly before grabbing his arm, making his head turn to me.

"Stiles, just - just shut up, oh my God," I breathe, dragging him away from the Sheriff after he gives me an all-clear to do so.

We find Melissa and Scott in the hallway, her back to us and Scott facing us. "I have to ground you," Melissa says to him, and Stiles and I look at one another. "I am grounding you. You are grounded."

"What about work?" Scott asks.

"Fine," she says. "Other than work. And no TV."

"My TV's broken."

"Then no computer."

"I need to computer for school."

"Then no, uh -" Melissa pauses almost looking around for inspiration, which is when I slip on the wall and fall forwards a little. She spots me and turns back around to face Scott. "No Stiles or Rae."

"What - no Stiles?" Stiles asks, moving forwards a little bit.

"No Stiles or Rae!" she shouts, lifting her index finger into the air but not turning round. Stiles and I fall back a little bit, not wanting to get too involved in their fight. "And no more car privileges. Give me your keys." When Scott doesn't make a move to get his keys or respond, she seems to loose her temper. "Give 'em to me!" He flinches and fishes them quickly from his pocket, handing them to her. She tries but can't get the car key off of the keyring holding all of Scott's keys together. "Oh, for the love of God."

"Mom, you want me to -" Scott tries, reaching forwards to help her.

"No," she says, pulling her hands away, causing him to pull his back.

"Mom, come on, let me just-" He tries again, but she becomes more and more frustrated. "Mom. Mom!" He places his hand over hers, and she exhales deeply before looking up at him.

"What is going on with you?" she asks, her voice sounding like there's almost a lump in her throat. "Is this about Allison?" Stiles and I shake our heads from behind Melissa, and Scott looks up at us quickly.

"Do you really wanna know?" he asks, and Melissa nods. Stiles's head shaking gets a bit more vigorous, and I just make mine a bit faster.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Is this about your father?" Stiles and I stop, look at each other, and then nod at Scott again. "It is, isn't it? Okay, you know what, um - we'll talk about this at home. I'm gonna go get the car." She walks off slowly, and Scott watches her go before coming over to us.

"I'm the worst son ever," Scott sighs.

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly winning any prizes either," Stiles adds, motioning to me and him. I nod in agreement, watching Mr. Whittemore yell at the Sheriff.

We head home after that, and Stiles forces me to study a little. It's not that I don't know some of the material, but I haven't had time to look over it since we learned it. I change into my pajamas and lay face down on his bed, the pencil in my mouth as he works at his desk.

"Stiles," I moan for the third time, and he throws his head back as he spins around. "I really don't get Math."

"I know you don't," he sighs, standing up from his chair and laying down beside me. "But you need to pass, Rae."

"I know." I throw my head down onto my book, effectively shutting everything out.

"Hey," he says, gently lifting my head from the pages. "How about we get some food. That usually helps me think." I nod, and he grabs his phone, orders our food and then lets me take a break.

Five minutes later, there's a knock at the door, and our eyes connect. Food delivery has never been that fast before. Stiles heads downstairs to get it while I carry on working on a problem, but when I don't hear him speak, I panic. I rush to the stairs, but stop near the bottom when I see him closing the door as my mother walks into the house, looking around, and then her eyes landing on me.

I'm only wearing Stiles's shirt and a pair of shorts, so she doesn't look too happy about that. I tug on the shirt, attempting to make it longer than it is, but I know it's pointless. "Mom?"

"Raelynn," she replies curtly, and I sigh as Stiles walks up to me on the stairs.

"And I'm gonna go," he says, obviously sensing the tension in the room. When he reaches me, he whispers, "I'll be upstairs, okay?" I nod and he kisses my forehead, running up the last few stairs, and all I hear is his bedroom door closing.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I ask, descending the last few stairs to be stood on equal ground with her.

She's as still as a statue, although, like always, her eyes follow my every move. "I wanted to talk to you. I would have spoken to you today at the station, but I didn't really want to create a scene. I figured you'd be here." I raise my eyebrows, prompting her to go on, and she sighs. "I - I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest and walking into the living room, sitting down on the couch. "Last time I checked, I was the rejected werewolf daughter who is a disgrace to the family."

"I wanted to thank you for helping your father," Mom replies quickly, seeming to dismiss my comment. "He told me what you did when he got home, and how Gerard acted. So . . . Thank you."

"Damn," I hiss, and she tilts her head, not understanding. "Was that really so hard to say?" Mom glares, and I look down and swallow. "Well, despite everything he's done, he is my father. And if something happened to him when I could have stopped it . . . I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Mom reaches over and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, smiling softly. I flinch when she gets closer to me, and she stops immediately before looking to the ceiling, seeming like there's a lump in her throat. "When did this ever happen?"

"What?"

"You being thrown out of your own home," she sighs. "Your grandfather turning up and almost killing you. Your father becoming dangerous to you. I never wanted any of this for you. None of it."

"Really?" I ask, turning to face her more. "But, I always thought-"

"You deserved a childhood just as much as Allison," Mom says. "Your father took that from you because he'd wanted a soldier first, and then a princess. You were the soldier." Something inside me urges me to lean forwards, to let her hold me, and I do. I lean, and she grabs me. She's never really held me like this before - this is desperate, this is need. Like she has to prove it to herself that she can do it. She pulls back, and I look up into her eyes. "Clean slate?"

I hesitate briefly, but then nod slowly. "Clean slate."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, I rush around to get ready before leaving to pick up Allison. Stiles offered to drive me last night, but Allison didn't want an awkward car ride with our mom before school because of what happened last night. I change and jump into the Impala, breathing in the familiar smell and wriggling on the comfy seats. I stop a block away from my house, text Allison that I'm here, and wait for her. I don't want to risk being seen by Gerard or Dad, so I always park a little way from the house. Allison rounds the corner and smiles at me as she hurries to the passenger seat, breathing in deeply once she's inside.