The Beginning || Stiles Stilinski ¹

26 || Let Him Die

Episode: Formality

Deaton gazed at her for the one-millionth time that morning as he fixed his veterinary supplies. Inquisitiveness in his normally serious expression. He wondered about her past and what she could be bringing to the table in the future, nothing severe, he hoped. But hoping for that in the world he lived in would be asking for too much.

On the contrary, the naive teenager felt intimidated. "Something wrong?"

She received a head shake. "Nothing."

Gulping, she turned back to look at her sleeping friend, waiting for a sign that let her know he was not okay instead of basing it on physical indications. The thought of being close to losing him too was frightening, more so than when they were trapped at the high school. Despite the altercations and the distinct points of view, Scott had become a brother to her, and she wouldn't have forgiven herself if he died. It would've been like the bus driver or janitor situation, weighing her down. Knowing she could've done something to rescue them but not exactly what.

"I just repainted one of the walls." Deaton's voice broke through her thoughts, causing Thaís to look at him, smiling as she tried to play along. "It's a beautiful beige. Looks smooth, doesn't it?"

Her lips parted, startled, not knowing what to say. "Uh, yeah, it is."

The man frowned, watching her patterns. Eyes staring at him, not a single glance at the wall right beside her, the only beige wall in the entire vet's office. "Thaís, you haven't even taken a look." That made her panic.

How am I supposed to make it look like I wasn't color blind? She went to speak again, make something up but was interrupted (thankfully) by tired groaning. A breath of relief escaped her once Scott started moving, sitting up from his spot. "Good morning Scott." She greeted with a tiny smile.

"Welcome back to the land of the conscious." Deaton joked while sending him a smile, but Scott didn't reply. Instead, he just hopped off the metal table, his feet nearly giving up on him when they touched the ground. Quickly, the vet and friend went to hold him up. "You doin' okay?"

The teen boy blinked tiredly, struggling to speak.

"Hey, maybe you should sit down," Thaís advised. Deaton nodded, agreeing.

Suddenly the entrance bells to the animal clinic chimed, announcing an arrival. The werewolves glanced at each other, feeling equally; The atmosphere had darkened - Danger. Both recognized the scent that had been haunting them for a long time. Peter.

"Hello?" Deaton questioned, confused, as his sign had been flipped to the closed side - No one should be inside right now. There was no reply, only the sound of the door closing. He stepped forward to go and investigate, but Scott quickly pulled him back. The older man turned to them, seeing the evident paranoia on their faces, and gave an encouraging smile before walking to the front desk. "I'm sorry, but we're -"

Abrupt silence.

Scott felt his friend stand up straighter, glanced at her. She was distressed, eyes staring directly at the ground, and her physical movement had been deactivated. Thaís had felt Deaton's uneasiness and knew that it was definitely Peter.

"We're closed."

"Hi there." Peter Hale greeted in a fake cheery voice, "I'm here to pick up."

Deaton frowned, "I'm not sure I remember you dropping off."

The latter smirked, "These two wandered in on their own." Scott and Thaís looked at each other with widened eyes. The boy pulled her toward the back of the room as if that would do anything to help mask their presence.