Chapter 14

Stiles hangs back until the rest of the class has filed out of English. As the door closes behind the last student, he approaches the teacher's desk and presses his hands to the surface.

Grimm doesn't so much as look up. "I don't have time for this," he says, flat and unemotional, scribbling long lines of tiny, incomprehensible script into a pocket notebook that looks like it came from the same library as Derek's borrowed books.

"This is my last day," Stiles says. "I'm due to come down with something extremely contagious but non-fatal this weekend. But I think you know that."

"Of course." Grimm doesn't so much as pause in his writing. He fills a page, moves to the next. Stiles has to squint just to recognize that it's not even English. "I trust I've prepared you for your absence, at least in this class," Grimm continues.

"Yeah." Stiles takes his hands off the desk, bunches them into fists and rubs them against the sides of his jeans. "I know who you are. What you are."

Grimm doesn't so much as twitch. "Have you made similar arrangements in your other classes?"

Stiles frowns. "My dad's gonna pick up my assignments," he says. "What do you care? It's not as if you're a real teacher."

Finally, Grimm's pencil stops scratching. He lifts his head, and his blank stare seems to shimmer like a mirage before Stiles' eyes. Thin lips stretch wide, turn up into a grin. As creepy goes, this guy puts Uncle Peter to shame. "You're making preparations for your own future. That means I'll get what I came for."

Stiles feels suddenly sick, bile rising up in his throat, burning. He wants to throw himself forward, throw punches until the Sidhe is bloody and unrecognizable. He wants to scream at him, tell him he can't have her. He digs his fingernails into his palms and pushes back his anger. "What are you going to do with her?"

Grimm drops his head, starts writing again. "The child will join the host. Now please leave. I'll come when it's time, and not before."

"I don't know what that means," Stiles says, shaking his head. "You have to tell me everything. I haven't made up my mind yet, I need to know." He's not prepared for this, he doesn't know what to ask, doesn't know what the right questions are. "What happens if I say no?"

Grimm snaps the notebook shut, scrapes his chair back and stands. "Then you'll die. Your mate will suffer, and when the child can speak for herself, we'll take her anyway."

Stiles stares, horrified. "It'll kill him," he whispers.

Grimm pushes his chair in and takes long strides toward the door. "Yes." He opens the door, steps through.

"Why did you chase me that day?" The words spill out without Stiles even thinking.

Grimm turns, gives Stiles that same unreal stare. "The Alpha would take the child's power," he says. "We cannot allow it to happen." And then he's gone, footsteps dull and quick as they fade down the hall.

Stiles stares at the open door. He feels cold, shivers as he pulls his arms around himself. He can't move, can't speak, can barely think past Deaton telling them that the Sidhe can't lie and remembering that he was with Scott that day.

.

The school is deserted when Stiles finally manages to leave the classroom. He drags his feet, still cold, hands pulled into the sleeves of his jacket. Everything feels surreal, like reality is warping around him.

His Jeep is the only vehicle left in the parking lot. There's a small figure standing beside it, and Dana looks up as he approaches. "There you are," she says. "I've been texting you, but you didn't answer. I was worried."

Stiles blinks, realizing his phone has been buzzing in his pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the library. Saw your car, thought I'd wait for you." She looks up at him, brows drawn together. "Are you okay? You look sick."

Stiles lets out a soft, humorless laugh. "I don't know who to trust," he whispers, and then slumps against the side of the Jeep. "Grimm, he—" He looks down at his friend, aware that she's still on the perimeter of all of this, thankful that he's got someone kind of on the outside he can talk to. "Did you know that fairies are an actual thing? But they're nothing like you'd think."

"Figures," Dana says, her lips pulling into a smile. "I mean, werewolves. They're supposed to be all monstery, but... Isaac, for example? He's so sweet. And he looks like an angel." She lifts her eyes to the sky, a beatific smile on her face.

"And I thought you liked me."

"I do." She leans on the Jeep beside him, drops her head onto his arm. "You're shaking," she says. "What happened?"

"I have to give the baby up," he says, and the words get stuck in his throat. "And I don't know if I can trust my best friend."

"Scott?" Dana says. She's silent for a long time. "I think you know in your heart what's right, Stiles. Things aren't always as they appear."

"Can I trust you?" he whispers.

"Yes."

Stiles looks down. Dana's face is open, honest. He believes her. "Fairies are going to take the baby," he says.

"They are famous for that." Dana frowns. "Are you going to let them?"

"I wasn't going to. Derek wanted her, so much, even when I didn't. But... It'll be worse for him later on if I don't." He still can't imagine it, going through all of this, feeling her moving inside him for so long, and then having nothing to show for it. His diaphragm contracts and he shudders as a tear streaks down his cheek. But it's better to get it over with, and even if she's gone, they'll still have each other. At least Stiles can try to keep Derek from blaming himself.

Stiles stiffens as Dana wraps her arms around him and hugs him tight. "It'll be okay," she says, and she's got so much confidence and strength that just a little of the tension he holds drains away. "You have to trust that you're doing the right thing."

"And Scott?"

"You know him, Stiles. Maybe you just have to look deeper."

Stiles frowns, not understanding, but everything still feels so unreal. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and he ignores it, his thoughts going to Derek, because he's gotta go there, he's got to tell him that he's going to say yes. "Do you need me to drive you somewhere?" he asks Dana.

A smile spreads over her face, but she shakes her head. "I'm good," she says. "I'll see you around."

As Stiles pulls out of the lot, he sees her walk across the road and disappear into the trees.

.

The last person Stiles expects to see at Derek's is his father. He freezes on the landing, staring at the two men leaning over the table like bookends, palms pressed to the wood. There's a coffee cup at each man's right hand, and his father turns the page of a thin book and points at the page, while Derek looks up at Stiles, eyes wide and horrified.

"Dad?" Stiles says as he skips down the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

The sheriff looks up. "Hey, kiddo. You didn't answer your phone, so I came looking for you. Nice to know you're not lying in a ditch somewhere, by the way."

"I had some..." Stiles gestures vaguely behind him. "Stuff at school I had to take care of. Sorry."

"My mother was always talking about the ditches," Derek says, eyes on the books spread out on the table.

"Really?" Stiles gets closer. They're glossy catalogs, half a dozen of them scattered over the wood surface. "Even with the werewolf thing?"

"All any parent wants to do is protect their children," the sheriff says. He picks up one of the catalogs and slaps it against Stiles' chest. "You were crawling at seven months. This place is going to need some serious baby proofing, and I don't care if she's a werewolf, my grandkid is not going to be falling down those stairs." He glances up at the spiral staircase. "Understand?"

Stiles takes a closer look at the book he's holding. "I'm not putting my kid in a cage," he mutters, but wishing it was something he had to worry about.

"Pretty sure they're calling them playpens now," the sheriff says. "But whatever. I don't want to be the butt-in grandparent or anything, but I will be if I have to. That kid is half werewolf and half Stiles. You boys have no idea what you're in for."

A soft snort of laughter makes Stiles jerk his head up in surprise. Derek's smiling, but his eyes are wet. He blinks a few times, sniffs, and the emotion—the grief—on his face makes a lump form in Stiles' throat that he can't swallow down. "We'll keep her safe," Derek says.

"Good. Don't think I won't pull the statutory rape card if you step out of line."

Derek's eyes go wide and he nods in quick jerks. "Yes, sir."

The door has barely closed behind the sheriff and Derek already has his arms wrapped around Stiles from behind. "You haven't told him," he says.

"My dad doesn't need anything else to worry about. He'll just try and stop it, but he can't." Stiles twists in Derek's arms, pushes away. "I talked to Grimm. He is the Sidhe, and I'm going to say yes. He said... He said she'd join the host. I think that means they're not gonna kill her, right? She'll live?"

"She'll be one of them," Derek says. He drops his head to Stiles' shoulder, hot breath pushes through the fabric of his clothes and over his skin. "And you'll be alive."

"You're gonna hate me," Stiles breathes. "You won't be able to help it, and I won't blame you."

"No," Derek says, shaking his head. "I'm going to love you. I'm not fucking capable of anything else, do you understand? I'm gonna need you. I need you to stay with me, Stiles, please."

"I will, okay? I promise."

Derek pulls back, and his eyes track down over Stiles' body. "I told your father I wanted you here with me now," he says. "I promised I'd keep you safe."

"But I already told him I'd stay home."

"He agreed with me," Derek says. He pulls down the zip of Stiles' jacket, shoves it off his shoulders, lets it fall to the floor. "Something about getting used to each other before we have someone else around for the next eighteen years." His hands slide down, over Stiles' stomach, fingers splayed out. He smiles sadly when the baby kicks. It's like she knows he's there.

"Whoa. Dad sanctioned sex," Stiles says.

"It all depends on you." Derek looks up. "Do you want to be here?"

"I do." Stiles rubs his cheek against the scruff on Derek's face.

"I'll stay out of your way so you can do your school work. I'm sure Scott will bring—"

"Scott." The mention of his name hits Stiles hard in the chest. He starts to shake again, goosebumps rising on his bare arms, his short sleeve T-shirt not enough to keep him warm. "Grimm," he whispers. "He said... He said Scott wanted her power. What did he mean? Can I even trust Grimm? I don't know if I can trust Scott now, Derek, what the fuck am I gonna do?"

Derek's hands fly to Stiles' upper arms and he grips tight enough to hurt. "What did he say? The Sidhe can't lie, Stiles. What exactly did he say?"

Stiles tries to organize his thoughts, to remember the teacher's words. "The Alpha. He said 'the Alpha' would take her power, and that he couldn't allow it to happen."

Derek's pupils contract to tiny points. "There's three alphas in Beacon Hills, Stiles."

"But I was with Scott, not the twins. Derek, he's my best fucking friend. What do I do?"

Derek shakes his head. "I don't know. Shit, Stiles. I don't know."