Chapter Text
Stiles was driving down the highway, skirting the edge of speeding as he manically checked the rear mirror, searching for his pursuers. He could not believe this was his life. There he was, playing the tourist, minding his own business as a group of thugs cornered him. Correction – a group of omega thugs cornered him, wanting to build some street creed to the expense of the token human in the Hale-McCall pack … but let us start at the beginning.
Summer vacation had just started and he wanted to see something other than Beacon Hills and the shit storm that was its supernatural community. His relationship with Scott and the other member of the pack was still tense – curtesy of the whole Donovan incident, Malia had broken up with him and his dad was still walking on eggshells around him.
Even if the situation wasn’t perfect, the timing was. He packed his things, said his good-byes and got out of dodge. Originally, he wanted to visit Florida, but then after some calculations, he realized that with the money and the time he had the farthest he could go was Texas.
But that was okay. He slowed his pace and took some more time for sightseeing, saw things that weren’t in his plan and visited some people he met only on the net. There was a witch in Arizona that helped him with some research, a werecoyote in New Mexico that provided him with information when he first met Malia … everything was fine until he hit the border to Texas … and then things started going to shit.
His jeep broke down, he run out of money to pay for the repairs and had to beg his dad for a loan. When the vehicle was finally fixed and he was ready to roll out of town he was grabbed and dragged into a dark alleyway by two very muscled guys.
At first, he thought they wanted his wallet, but then the electric blue eyes come out and the gig was up. Using a large amount of his mountain ash stock, he entrapped them in a circle and while listening to their treats and promises, he hightailed it out of there.
So here he was, driving on a highway, looking over his shoulder for possible pursuers, debating on what to do when he saw an exit and without even thinking about it took it. He was still scowling at his hands for acting on their own when he past the ‘Welcome to Midnight, Texas’ sign and felt a cold shiver run down his back.
His spider senses immediately took notice but he was too tired and hungry to really listen to them. He stopped in front of, as far as he could see, the only dinner in town to replenish his energies and then get a good night of sleep before returning home. He was going to stop here for less than a day – what could possibly happen in a day. As it turned out a lot…. It’s like the past years in BH hadn’t thought him anything. In his defense this wasn’t Beacon hills - it was much worse.