Teen Wolf AU: In which Stiles’s Mom faked her death and became a member of the Alpha pack.
I WANT SOMEONE TO WRITE THIS.
OMG WHY. WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME.
It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not -
“Mom?” Stiles whispers, but his voice doesn’t even sound from his throat. The noise that does reverberate in his skull is a broken, scared syllable that doesn’t even begin to cover the agony and desperation and please be her and it can’t be her she’s dead rushing through his veins.
The problem, though – the most agonizing thing about all of this – is that the main reason for his panic attacks? There hadn’t been a body. They’d never had a body – he and his dad had buried an empty casket and they’d pretended like that was okay. Acted like burying an empty box of wood meant burying every single memory of the woman they’d both loved so much.
But now, there is a body. There’s flesh and blood standing less than five feet from Stiles and she looks –
Christ. She looks nothing like the woman Stiles remembers.
She grins, then - the expression is sinister and evil and fucking terrifying, but Stiles’s heart doesn’t skip with fear. Because there’s something animal in her expression, sure, but there’s also an undercurrent of something fond and loving in her eyes.
Eyes that are bleeding into an unmistakable shade of alpha red.
“Hello, honey,” she murmurs, voice lilting across the space between them. “There’s something we should probably talk about.”
Stiles bites back every single response he can think of, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes as he hisses, “Well, where do you wanna start, Mom? Or should I just start calling you alpha?”
“You can call me whatever you want, baby,” she answers, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m still me.”
“No,” Stiles says. “You’re not her. You’re not my mom. She wasn’t this.”
She steps toward him, eyes fading back to a molten-brown color. When she’s close enough, she wraps a hand around the back of Stiles’s neck and quirks the corner of her mouth up when Stiles flinches in response. “That’s the first thing we need to talk about, sweetheart. But I think it’s going to be easier if I show you.”
Suddenly, there’s a pain in the back of Stiles’s neck, and he falls to the floor with claws in the back of his neck and flash after flash of memory flooding the darkness behind his eyes.
I LOVE PEOPLE SO MUCH!
This is so good. Can I ask for more?
I HAVE NO REACTION GIFS FOR THIS.
JUST A CASUAL REMINDER THAT I WANT MORE OF THIS.
GOD DAMN IT. THIS PROBABLY DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE OKAY BUT HERE HAVE IT I WROTE MORE.
When Stiles comes to, it’s a slow process. He can see random shapes and hear the muffled sounds of the pack trying to get to him, but -
Wait, why are they trying to -
All he sees is red.
He gasps like he hasn’t been breathing for minutes (he hasn’t), and pushes himself up on arms that shake under the strain. “What the fuck did you…?” he rasps, reaching with a hand to feel the back of his neck.
“I told you, baby,” his mom not her not her says, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she moves to sit down on the floor next to him. “I told you it would be easier if I showed you.”
“Showed me what? That my mother’s mentally insane and I should probably check into finding a more thorough family history just to make sure it doesn’t happen to me, too?”
“What did you see?” she asks, ignoring pretty much everything Stiles says (and the look he gives her, too). “Just tell me what you remember, Stiles.”
Stiles’s jaw tightens. “I don’t remember a damn thing.”
“It’ll come to you.”
It’s minutes later when Stiles remembers. Peter. Claws. Red eyes. A body. Derek.
“Oh my god,” Stiles breathes, eyes widening. “Oh my - holy fuck, you - you’re the one who….”
The woman across from him grins and nods, watching eagerly as everything clicks into place. “I’m the one who killed Laura.”
The noise that Stiles hears outside the warehouse is undoubtedly Derek.
“But Peter did it,” Stiles counters, shaking his head rapidly. “No, Peter did it, he told us.”
“If you claw a wolf in the temporal lobe,” she explains, crossing her legs and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, “you can actually alter their memories. Make them believe that they committed an act that was never their fault to begin with.”
Stiles swallows against the lump in his throat, the beat of his heart thunderous in his ears as he tries to figure out - “Why, Mo -no, just. Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Derek was gone.”
Shaking his head, Stiles yells, “That doesn’t fucking make sense! What the hell would it matter that Derek was gone?”
“Derek was always meant to be yours, sweetheart,” she explains, and Stiles belatedly realizes the noise on the outside of the warehouse has ceased. “I had to get him to come home to you, didn’t I?”