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Step by Step, We'll Get There	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: S through Z > Teen Wolf Views: 4677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf nor profit of it. Jeff Davis owns it.

Chapter List
- 33
- 34
- 35
Author's note: Look at that, I actually managed to update it on time! I'll try to stick to the schedule, though I can't promise anything as university will start again for me on Monday *coughs* But hey, at least this one is on time! It's the little things, guys.
Warnings: References to the character death; nothing else in particular I think
I hope you'll like it!
Chapter 34
They drove to the precinct, even though there was nothing any of them could do and with the jeep being evidence now, it wasn't like Stiles would get his car back any time soon.
Despite all that, they still went once the shock had worn off. The kid who'd stolen his car – dead. How had it escalated that badly? How had they gone from Stiles reporting his jeep stolen to the jeep being found with a dead body inside? Who had killed the guy and why? An attempted carjacking perhaps? Let's be real here: even he was realistic enough to admit that Roscoe was far from carjacking worthy. If criminals wanted a quick, inconspicuous getaway, Roscoe was definitely not the first choice.
Why else would someone have killed the kid, though? It didn't make sense.
What also didn't make sense was Peter greeting them when they walked into the Sherriff's office; Parrish having waved them through without saying anything, too busy with studying several pictures.
"What are you doing here?" Derek asked flatly; his hand resting low on Stiles' back.
Peter smiled affably. "Offering my services to the police," he answered smoothly. While the reply was almost teasing, light as most of his responses tended to be, there was a darkness present in his eyes now which caused the teasing tone to fall flat.
Stiles looked between him and dad, who sat behind his desk, his face drawn with exhaustion; several papers spread out in front of him. There were pictures too and Stiles caught a glimpse of the interior of his car, covered with red splatters, before he swallowed and looked away.
"Dad?"
"Peter has his own theories about what exactly happened after your jeep was stolen," Dad said wearily, dragging a hand down his face. "Don't ask me how he even knew something had happened, I still don't know and frankly, I'm not sure I want to know."
Peter sniffed, crossing his arms. "My own theories make far more sense than the carjacking one some of your deputies are treating this case as."
"And what are your theories?" Stiles asked, sitting down when Derek silently ushered him to a chair. At least he wasn't alone in thinking that a carjacking didn't make much sense in the case of his car.
"There are two possibilities as to why the victim was shot," Peter started, his tone brisk now. "First, you need to know that this kid looked somewhat like you."
"In what sense?" Stiles asked warily.
Derek took the seat next to him, his whole posture tense as he stared at his uncle with narrowed eyes.
"Same built, hairstyle similar to yours, same poor taste in vehicles," Peter summed up, casually throwing in the jab at the end. "If one doesn't look too closely, they could easily mistake you for each other."
"Someone shot him because they thought he was Stiles?" Derek growled, claws popping out and digging into the arms of the chair, chipping off wood.
"The first possibility: he was shot precisely because he looked like Stiles and he drove the jeep," Peter stated, ticking it off on his index finger. He tapped his middle finger. "The second possibility: they assumed he was Stiles, tracked him down, then figured out he wasn't the one they were looking for and that's why they killed him. The fact that they left the jeep alone tells us they weren't interested in the car itself, but in the person driving it. So either the boy got killed because they thought he was you – or they killed him because he wasn't you and they didn't want any witnesses."
Nausea hooked its claws in him, churning his stomach. "I don't know which possibility is worse to be honest," Stiles said disgusted.
"Either they want you dead or they want you for something else," Peter commented contemplatively, crossing his arms again. "Personal experience tells me that them not wanting you dead tends to imply a worse fate than simply being killed immediately."
"And those are the only possibilities you can think of?" Dad grunted; his eyes dark. "It could still be coincidence."
"Let us pretend for a moment that it's just coincidence and they didn't go after the kid because he looks like your son," Peter smiled thinly. "What other reasons could they possibly have had for going after him? The jeep? Bless your late wife, but we're not talking about a very expensive car here, which would score high on the black market. That thing looks ready to collapse any day now."
Stiles scowled, but didn't refute the claim, knowing it was true. It was sheer luck, a lot of love and a shit ton of duct tape that was keeping his baby together at the moment and still running.
"The kid's valuables? His phone and wallet were left alone," Peter continued, ignoring dad's darkly muttered, "How the hell do you even know that?". "So if they weren't interested in the car nor in any objects with monetary value – why even go after the kid in the first place then? Why kill him?"
He shook his head. "No, they were after Stiles and got pissed off when they realised they had the wrong guy."
"Who do you think is behind this then?" Derek questioned; his mouth a thin line. His nails left deep grooves behind in the wood when he forced them to retract after Stiles placed his hand on his.
Peter frowned heavily; a flash of irritation crossing his eyes. "At the moment I'm inclined to suspect the Hawthorne clan considering they were the ones causing trouble in the past for Talia as well, but … I haven't found a reason yet why after all these years they would suddenly try to attack someone of us again."
"Perhaps because they found out that my son is carrying your sister's granddaughter and wants to get back at her for whatever she did to piss them off in the past?" Dad suggested tiredly. "How come I was never even informed that she was in trouble before?"
"Because I handled it back then," Peter replied nonchalantly before narrowing his eyes slightly in thought. "I suppose the pregnancy could have been a trigger for them, but …" He shook his head slowly; his frown deepening. "I'll have to look into it."
"So what now?" Stiles asked lowly, rubbing over his stomach when his baby started fussing heavily as a reaction to the anxiety he was experiencing.
"I'm going to call up some old contacts, find out if they've heard something about a target placed on you," Peter said thoughtfully and flicked his eyes over at the Sheriff. "Just in case it's not a target on our family, you might want to ask around and see if one of the criminals you put behind bars has recently been released. They might have planted a target on the Sheriff's family instead."
Dad glared at him. "You think I haven't thought about that already?" he said clipped. "Jordan's looking into it right now."
Peter nodded and smiled thinly. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some old friends to contact." He slipped out of the room without one look back.
"He'll probably end up looking up whether someone is seeking revenge on you," Derek remarked; his eyes dark. "My uncle likes doing things on his own."
"As long as he doesn't give me any reason to haul him in," Dad muttered darkly and briskly rubbed his face. When he looked at Stiles, his face was grim and determined. "I know you're definitely not going to like this, but son, I don't want you to go anywhere alone right now. Not until we've found the one who's behind this. This time it was an innocent bystander, but next time it might be you and I do not want that."
"Trust me, dad, I like being alive too," Stiles said tiredly and heaved a huge sigh. "Can I still visit the Nemeton, though? I don't have to visit it that often anymore, but …"
Dad hesitated before nodding begrudgingly. "Yeah, you can; it's not like Deaton gave you much of a choice. Just have someone with you, okay? And make sure you're not followed when you visit it. I'll also have some of my men performing a perimeter check every evening and morning around your home just to be safe."
Stiles couldn't find it in him to protest about that extra measure. The death of the guy who'd stolen his jeep had shook him to the core; the realisation that it could easily have been him instead filling him with ice. The thought of how close he had come to dying … It made him sick.
"And it might also be for the best if you don't leave Beacon Hills for a while," Dad said cautiously. "We don't have any proof yet that these events are connected, but you being chased all the way to the town and then tonight someone went after your jeep right outside Beacon Hills … If it's a coincidence, it's a very big one."
And dad didn't believe in coincidences; at least not when they occurred in his line of work.
"You think staying within the borders will make sure Stiles is safe?" Derek questioned; a heavy frown cleaving his forehead in two.
Dad rolled his shoulders and grimaced. "I don't dare to state that he will be absolutely safe, but so far these two events happened outside Beacon Hills. Let's not tempt fate; if for whatever reason these people don't dare to enter Beacon Hills, then we're going to make use of that."
"I'm not very keen at leaving town for the moment," Stiles muttered; his fingers tightening around Derek's.
"Good." Dad nodded and sighed. "There's nothing else you can do here, so I suggest you two go back home and rest. I know this isn't easy, but try not to think about what happened, all right, son? I'll take care of this, you take care of yourself and my granddaughter," he said gruffly.
Stiles nodded subdued, knowing there wasn't much he could do here – and for the first time, he didn't have any desire to stick his nose into this case either. He stood up, together with Derek, and slipped around the desk to give dad a hug.
"How bad does Roscoe look?" he asked, fearing the answer.
Dad patted his back gently. "We'll get the window fixed and the inside cleaned," he promised.
Which wasn't really an answer, but Stiles was fine with leaving it at that.
They said their goodbyes and the couple left, Stiles offering Parrish a short wave when they passed his desk. The older man smiled tersely at him, not able to say anything as he was on the phone with someone.
Stiles and Derek climbed into Derek's car and even though it definitely wasn't cold at all, Stiles started shivering and he rubbed the heels of his palms roughly over his cheeks.
"Shit," he muttered.
"Yeah," Derek agreed, his hands on the steering wheel, but he hadn't started the car yet.
"I just want all this bullshit to be over with, is that too much to ask?" Stiles asked; his voice muffled behind his hands.
He couldn't get past the thought that it could have been him, him dead in his car, a bullet stuck in his brain. Or maybe Peter was right and whoever had been behind this would have abducted him instead. He didn't know which fate was worse: being killed or being abducted for fuck knew which reason.
How had he managed to piss someone off so badly that they either wanted him dead or taken away by them? Was it a released criminal out for revenge on his dad? Or was it someone pissed off at the Hale family and they decided to target Stiles because he was the newest 'addition'?
Was he going to need to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life now? First Theo, then the guy chasing after him, then this murder which might or might not be connected to the car chase … When would it finally end?
A warm, broad hand slipped around his neck; the light weight reassuring and sapping away some of the churning nausea he was experiencing.
"Uncle Peter and your dad will figure it out," Derek said quietly; his thumb rubbing soothing circles in the middle of the Omega's neck. "Uncle Peter is the Left Hand for a reason; he never fails at what he does. It's what makes him so annoying sometimes."
Stiles cracked a weak smile; Derek's reassurance helping a little bit. That was right, Peter was the Left Hand; if anyone would know how to track down this person or these people, it would be him.
Peter might be a weirdo, but he wouldn't have been appointed the Left Hand if he didn't know what he was doing.
Dad and his deputies would be working on the case as well; with those combined forces it didn't seem likely that whoever was behind this would get away with it.
"Let's go home, okay?" Derek suggested softly. "What do you say about spending the whole day tomorrow lazing and doing what we want?"
Stiles turned his head, pressing firmer into the hand around his neck subconsciously. "Don't you have a text to finish?"
The wolf shifter shrugged, looking unbothered. "I'm nearly done with it and the client doesn't expect it for another five days. I can take a day off."
"Okay, that sounds great," Stiles agreed, forcing himself to stop thinking about the dead kid in his car. "Let's go; there's a bed calling out to me."
They shared a soft kiss before Derek started the car.
He didn't get much sleep that night. He'd expected to be completely out for the count once he crawled into his bed, the long day having worn him down, but by the time the digital clock showed that it was nearly two o'clock, he was still awake. He'd dozed off for a bit, he was sure, but actually catching sleep seemed impossible now.
"Can't sleep?" Derek's voice broke the quiet in the room when Stiles turned around for the fifth time in less than ten minutes.
"Shit, did I wake you up?" Stiles asked guiltily, lying still on his back now.
"No, can't really fall asleep," Derek admitted.
Stiles felt him rise up slightly and then the lamp on the wolf shifter's nightstand was clicked on; the soft light spreading a warm glow throughout the room.
Resting his back against the headboard, Derek turned to look at him and asked, "You want to talk about it?"
Stiles shook his head and sat up as well; one hand automatically cupping his stomach. Their baby was starting to fuss slightly, but so far she was refraining from kicking the shit out of his organs which he appreciated.
"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered, but not thinking about it was a whole other matter.
He and Derek had checked every nook and cranny in the flat when they had returned, even though so far all the shit had occurred outside of Beacon Hills. It had made him feel a little bit better, but obviously not enough considering he was still awake at this late hour.
"You want to talk about anything else? Or do something to take your mind off of it?" Derek suggested, reaching out to slowly rub Stiles' rounded stomach. His eyes softened a fraction when their baby pressed a foot against his hand.
"What I want is to get some sleep, but that's obviously not going to happen," the Omega grumbled annoyed. Feeling a kick aimed at his thumb made him remember something. "You know, we haven't discussed any names so far," he remarked. "You want to do that now?"
He'd just entered the sixth month, so he still had some time left before their daughter would make an appearance, but trying to come up with names would hopefully distract him enough so he could finally catch some sleep afterwards.
"Sure," Derek agreed readily; a spark of excitement chasing away some of the darkness in his eyes. "You got any in mind already?"
"Nope, nothing," Stiles popped his lips. "I don't even know whether I want some specific meaning or not."
"Maybe we could follow tradition and give our daughter a Polish name," Derek smirked, twisting around so he could put both hands on Stiles' belly.
"God, no," Stiles shuddered and grimaced. "The last thing I want is to give my kid a monstrosity of a name like I have!"
"That reminds me that I actually still don't know what your real name is," Derek mused aloud; his hands rubbing slowly up and down across Stiles' sides.
"And you're never going to know that," Stiles retorted firmly. "Nobody should ever be forced to read such an horrific amount of alphabet abuse."
"I'm sure it's not that bad," Derek chuckled; his smile widening when their baby delivered yet another kick.
"Oh, it is, it very much is," Stiles said darkly. "So no, Polish traditions are completely out of the question. I can't have my kid hating my guts already before she's even out of me!"
"Maybe you didn't mind your name when you were still a kid," Derek argued.
He received an unimpressed look in return. "I couldn't even read that name, let alone pronounce it. I came up with my name when I was four years old – is that telling enough?"
"Okay, no Polish names, I get it," Derek laughed, raising his hands in the air for a moment before cupping the Omega's belly again.
"Does your family have any name traditions?" Stiles asked curiously. Although he didn't think his Polish name was really a family tradition, as much as dad having wanted to honour mom's wish to have some connection to her Polish heritage.
Derek tilted his head to the left, contemplating the question. "I don't think we have," he said slowly, frowning slightly. "Neither mom nor dad ever said they chose our names for a specific reason anyway. I think they just liked the ring of it."
"That sounds like a good enough reason to me," Stiles mumbled, wondering which name sounded right for their baby. "Lara perhaps?"
Derek wrinkled his nose. "No, that sounds too much like Laura. And too much like a certain video game character as well." His eyebrows rose up judgingly.
Stiles grinned innocently. "All right, so Lara is out. Elisabeth?"
The older man hesitated but shook his head. "Doesn't feel right. Lily?"
"Hm, we can take that one in consideration," Stiles mused. Lily Hale had a nice ring to it, but Lily Stilinski … Not really.
Derek uttered a sound of protest when Stiles slipped out of bed. "Where are you going?"
"Getting some pen and paper so that we can write down the names," Stiles called out, wandering into the living room. "I'd use my laptop, but it's installing updates and you know that shit can take ages."
He climbed back into the bed as soon as he'd hunted down a notepad and a pen and wrote 'Baby Names!' on top of the page before scribbling down 'Lily' as the first name.
"How about Sophia?" Derek suggested, absently starting to massage Stiles' right leg.
"Oh, that sounds nice! And it ends on an 'a' like the names of your mother and your sisters," Stiles grinned, adding the name to the list. "And I guess it also follows the names of her non-blood related aunts: Lydia, Erica and Kira."
Huh, he hadn't realised until know how many women he knew whose name ended on an 'a'. Melissa too. Man, what a coincidence.
"Anabelle?"
"Hm. Put that in the maybe section."
They continued discussing names, adding them to the list, scratching off others, until well into the morning and exhaustion finally really caught up to them, having them fall asleep by five o'clock.
"How are you doing now?" Erica asked him, popping up on his left side.
Cora's graduation had officially just finished and the graduate was currently being smothered against her mother's chest while Laura kept ruffling her hair and teasing her. Alexander was patiently awaiting his turn until his wife was finished hugging their daughter to death.
"In general or because of what happened last week?" Stiles asked dryly. "You look nice by the way."
She did, dressed in a light blue dress which flared open around her hips and was one of those one shoulder type of dresses. It had a faint sheen to it in the sunlight without being too distracting.
"Thanks," she grinned before sobering up again. "Because of what happened last week."
Stiles breathed out slowly, leaning back into Derek's chest when the older man came to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around him. He'd seen several of his old teachers eyeing his bump and while Harris had sneered, none of them had actually approached him.
"Trying not to think about it," he admitted. His jeep still hadn't been released and he was trying hard not to think about just how much cleaning the car would have to undergo. At this point he wasn't sure yet whether he would feel comfortable driving it again either.
"Yeah, I get that," she sighed, swiping her blonde curls over her shoulder. She bit down on her lip. "Boyd and I have been thinking – we could maybe temporarily move into your building? Help you keep an eye out in case that creep does cross the border?"
"That's sweet, but you don't have to do that," Stiles said, appreciating the gesture all the same. He couldn't expect them to give up their lives just because of one freak, though.
She shrugged, patting his belly gently. "Hey, you're pack. Pack sticks together, especially when one sicko is out to get one of the pack." Her fangs lengthened for a couple of seconds in reaction to her anger.
"Besides," she added, forcing her fangs back, "no offence meant, but you look like shit. I don't think you've been getting much sleep, right?"
Reluctantly Stiles shook his head and he felt Derek tightening his embrace slightly.
"The situation is messing with our heads," Derek grunted.
"Thought so," she sighed. "Look, just think about the offer, okay? You might be able to get some decent sleep if you know we're nearby. You know we wouldn't let anything happen to either one of you."
"We'll think about it," Derek promised and she flashed them a quick smile before walking away, looking for Boyd.
"Have you got the chance to congra-" Stiles was interrupted by Peter who suddenly showed up from literally nowhere, making him jump. "Where the hell did you come from?"
"A good morning to you too," Peter smiled, but there was something off with it, immediately setting the fox shifter on edge.
"What do you want?" Derek asked warily. "Shouldn't you be congratulating your niece?"
Peter waved his hand dismissively. "I'll do that later. No, I need to borrow your mate for just a couple of minutes."
"What for?" Heavy suspicion coloured Derek's voice now, which had his uncle smirking.
"Business, my dear nephew. Now, if you don't mind …" Peter slipped his arm around Stiles' shoulders and drew him along with him. "He'll be back before you have time to miss him!"
Derek's responding low growl had him smirking broadly.
"All right, what do you want?" Stiles demanded when they'd left the group of students and family behind, getting close to the edge of the lacrosse field.
"Would you recognise the guy who'd been chasing after you if you were shown a picture of him?" Peter inquired out of the blue, finally removing his arm from around Stiles.
"I think so," Stiles replied warily. "Why?"
"You recognise him?"
Frowning, Stiles looked at the picture he was shown and a shock went through him when he recognised the guy with short brown hair in it. He still wore a pair of dark sunglasses and was driving a different car from the looks of it, but it was the same guy, he was sure. Even with the pixelated appearance – a picture from a street surveillance cam? – it was hard not to recognise him.
The guy who'd been chasing him down all the way to Beacon Hills before rushing away once the police went after him.
"That's him," he said, mouth dry suddenly. "That's the guy who was following me. You found him?"
"Unfortunately, no," Peter sighed and tucked the picture back into his pocket. "But this does at least confirm my theory that the one chasing you is the same one who murdered that boy last week."
"Wait, how does that picture prove that?"
"I hacked into the surveillance system of the cameras near the route the body was found," Peter explained unperturbed. As if hacking into a system was perfectly normal. For him it probably was. "I was hoping to find out in which direction he'd gone to. One of the cameras managed to get quite the nice shot of his face before he disappeared completely."
"Disappeared as in …"
"Disappeared as in, he ditched this car and went up in smoke again," Peter murmured, narrowing his eyes. "Whoever this is, it's someone who knows how to play the game pretty well." He sounded both disgusted and impressed.
"But you can play the game better, right?" Stiles asked anxiously. How had this guy managed to disappear from the radar twice? Especially now that Peter was looking for him!
The shark like grin which appeared on the older man's face had his stomach performing weird twists. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty head over that, my dear Stiles. He might know how to play the game," he bent down towards him and smirked, "but I know how to play it the best."
Stiles didn't doubt that for one second.
AN2: Peter loves playing games … Any guesses as to why you think the guy manages to stay off the radar?
I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all back in the next chapter!
Cuddles
Melissa
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