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Step by Step, We'll Get There	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: S through Z > Teen Wolf Views: 4674 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf nor profit of it. Jeff Davis owns it.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
Author's note: Almost double of what it was last time, so at least this chapter isn't too short!
Warnings: Time skips and drama
I hope you'll like this!
Chapter 38
Lydia did end up inspecting every nook and cranny when she visited them on Monday. When she reached their bedroom to throw a quick look inside, she looked at Stiles unimpressed.
Raising a very judgy eyebrow – though it was less impressive than Derek's judgy eyebrows – she said, "Really, Stiles?"
"We aired it out and washed the blankets!" Stiles replied exasperatedly, crossing his arms on top of his stomach. "And might I remind you, my dear Lydia, that that is our bedroom and what we do inside of it is none of your business?"
So what if he and Derek had got a bit too enthusiastic yesterday? So what if maybe Derek had knotted him a couple of times and the room wasn't completely aired out yet? They were adults in a loving relationship together! It was completely normal to have sex with each other!
"It most definitely isn't," Derek confirmed in the kitchen, where he was making iced tea for everyone.
"At least you thought about soundproofing your room," she muttered, making a beeline for the couch. She sat down and unearthed a thick binder from her large purse before patting the space next to her. "Now, come on. Sit down so that we can start planning your baby shower."
"That looks more like one of those wedding planners binders," Stiles remarked, eyeing the suspiciously thick binder with wariness. He hastened to sit down when she clucked her tongue in warning.
"That's a separate binder," she replied without missing a beat. "Derek, you sit down as well; this is your baby too."
"I'm sure you and Stiles are capable of handling this on your own," Derek tried to escape, but one baleful look from Stiles quelled him and he sat down with an almost pained look on his face.
"If I have to suffer through this, you're going to suffer with me," Stiles said cheerfully, grabbing the older man's hand just in case he thought he could make a run for it after all.
Not that Lydia would allow him to escape and even the mighty wolf wouldn't be a match for her if she wanted to stop him. Even so, he saw Derek eyeing the door to the balcony with its fire escape; clearly he still had no real clue just how fearful Lydia could be when she wanted something.
"Now that's what I call true love," Lydia muttered and opened the binder, removing several pages from its plastic files. She started spreading them out across the coffee table, shoving aside some magazines. "All right, first decision you need to take: where do you want to hold the baby shower? Given how large the pack is, I'm already going to tell you that this apartment is axed in the list of options. Lovely place, but it's definitely not large enough to fit the entire pack."
"That's only if everyone decides to show up," Stiles muttered.
She offered him a sharp smile. "Oh, they will show up, trust me." She turned her attention back to the table, letting the unspoken threat linger in the air. "Now, which place do you want to use?"
Derek was looking up at the ceiling, as if asking strength from whoever was in charge of heaven, but Stiles just shrugged and shuffled forwards so he was closer to the table and didn't have to lean over his stomach as much. They might as well give Lydia what she wanted; she'd take care of the majority of the planning either way, so in the end they wouldn't have to do much bar agreeing or disagreeing to something. She would be happy and they would be happy; win-win for everyone involved.
Besides, it was kind of nice to finally be able to do something as normal as planning a baby shower for his daughter instead of worrying about some creep being after him. He hadn't got many normal days lately and he was going to take advantage of them whenever they happened.
"Did you order something online?" Derek questioned when he entered their apartment again with the mail.
Looking up from his half eaten omelette, Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together at the sight of a thick envelop in Derek's hand. "What? No, didn't order anything. I would have told you if I did. Why? Is it addressed to me?"
"To the both of us actually," Derek murmured and rolled his eyes when Stiles uttered an impatient nose, waving his hands to gesture for him to come back to the table.
"Open it; maybe it's some kind of present from our friends," Stiles suggested, stuffing another piece of the omelette in his mouth.
"Why would they send us a present through the mail?" Derek asked sceptically.
"Dunno. To surprise us?" Stiles shrugged. "Open it and we might find out."
That earnt him a heavy eye-roll, but Derek nonetheless sat down and ripped the envelop open with one of his claws. When he shook the envelop, several pictures came flying out, together with a folded piece of paper.
Taking a closer look at the pictures, his breakfast turned to ash in his mouth when he realised what the photos were showing.
Him.
Him in front of the grocery store; him about to step into Roscoe. There he was hugging his dad in front of the precinct, another one showing him laughing with Parrish when the man came outside to greet him. Pictures of him and Derek together in the stores; of him with his hand on his belly as he left their apartment building. Photos showing him hugging Scott after meeting up with him to eat lunch.
Picture after picture after picture. Close ups and ones taken from a distance. Pictures focusing on his face or his body in general.
He might have been able to believe that this was just some collage joke gone wrong from Scott or Erica or hell even Cora, but the note included with it, smashed even the tiniest smidgen of hope that there was nothing sinister about the photos.
Thomas does have a bright future in photography, doesn't he?
It wasn't signed, but that wasn't needed. The sender of this package could only be one person.
Whiskey brown eyes slowly looked up and stared into blazing gold ones. For once Stiles couldn't think of anything to say; fear strangling his vocal chords.
He could only sit there and nod when Derek growled, "We're calling Uncle Peter and your dad."
Because what else could they do?
"As I've said before, this is not an amateur we're dealing with," Peter said, lowering the note back onto the kitchen table. Snapping the glove off, he went on, "No scent whatsoever. I very much doubt you'll be able to lift off fingerprints of that either. Someone so smart as to disguise their scent won't let themselves be caught by leaving prints behind."
"I still have to try it," Dad said, his jaw clenched. "Even the smartest people let something slip once in a while."
Peter inclined his head.
"What else besides trying to lift off prints will happen?" Derek asked tersely. He was behind Stiles, holding him tightly against his chest. His arms were wrapped around the Omega's belly and while he stood still, Stiles felt his arms almost unnoticeably shaking against his body.
Almost as soon as he'd made the call, he'd gathered Stiles in his arms. Whether that was to comfort Stiles, himself or both, Stiles couldn't guess. He couldn't be particularly assed to try to guess now either; still too much in shock from seeing his face plastered across dozens of pictures.
Just how many had that boy managed to take of him before Peter had caught him in the act? There were pictures taken of times Stiles hadn't even felt someone staring at him!
"I'm going to take a look around the town this envelop is sent from," Peter announced, a faint frown marring his forehead.
Even though he outwardly looked calm, his eyes showed how vexed he was truly feeling; the blue colour of his eyes intensified with irritation. He clearly hadn't expected the killer to become so bold as to actually contact Stiles.
Frankly, Stiles hadn't expected that either. That only served to ramp up his panic even more, because this guy, whoever he was, clearly felt untouchable enough that he had dared to send a package. That really didn't bode well.
"That's more a task for me or one of my deputies," Dad pointed out, putting the note and the envelop in a plastic bag. The pictures were gathered and collected into another bag.
"Officially, yes, but do you think anyone is going to speak to someone in a police uniform?" Peter asked with a razor-thin smile. "Why don't you focus on your job and let me do mine, hm? There's a good chance I won't be able to find anything either way."
"Then why go there?" Dad narrowed his eyes.
"Because even the smartest people let something slip once in a while," Peter parroted his words with a smirk. Tipping an imaginary hat off to the Sheriff, he turned around to leave. "Stiles, now would be a good time to start listening to the advice you were given before: stay with someone all the time. Do not leave this place alone under any circumstances."
Any other moment and Stiles would bristle at the commanding tone of Peter, insist he wasn't a small kid who needed to be babysat the entire time. He'd argue that he was an adult and didn't need to hold someone's hand every time he left the apartment.
But that was during any other moment. That was when a killer wasn't after him and taunting him by sending him pictures of himself. That was when he wasn't pregnant and had an unborn baby to think of. He was not only risking his own life now if he went against the advice, but also his daughter's life.
He might be reckless, could be stubborn as hell – thank you Stilinski genes – but he wasn't stupid.
"I won't," he promised; his hands clenched around Derek's wrists.
"Cheer up, that worried look doesn't suit you," Peter chided and then left, shutting the door firmly behind him.
"I don't care what you think of it, two of my deputies will be stationed in front of this building day and night," Dad said firmly; glaring down at the two plastic maps. "I'm not going to give this bastard a chance to get close to you."
"Dad," Stiles started to protest, but the older man cut him off.
"No, Stiles, this isn't up for discussion. I will have two deputies in front of your apartment day and night and you will not leave this apartment on your own. Not even to get some fresh air," Dad stated and it was in the commanding tone Stiles knew all too well.
When dad used that particular tone of voice, there was no arguing with him. Whatever he commanded to happen, would happen, and so god help the person who thought they could go up against him.
Dad came forwards to hug him, Derek stepping back to let him. "I'm not going to let this son of a bitch get close to you and my granddaughter, okay? I won't," he swore and embraced him as firmly as he could with Stiles' belly in the way.
"I know," Stiles muttered, hugging him back and allowing dad to scent his left temple.
"The deputies will be here within the hour. I'll let you know as soon as I heard back from the lab." After hugging and clapping Derek's back as well, dad left too.
Derek drew him back in his arms and Stiles buried his face into the wolf shifter's neck, inhaling his familiar scent and allowing it to settle him, chipping away at the panic still clawing at him.
"We need to tell the rest of the pack," Derek said quietly, rubbing his hands across the fox's back. "At the very least Erica and Boyd should know about this, so they can help keep an eye out for the guy."
The couple had moved into the building two weeks ago, one floor below them. Ostensibly because they wanted a place of their own finally, but also to form an extra layer of protection against the killer. Stiles hated the thought that Erica and Boyd were basically acting as shields for him now, but they had waved off his protests, saying he would do the same for them if their situation had been reversed.
That had shut him up quickly, because yeah, if their situation had been reversed, he would totally have offered to help protect the couple. That didn't mean he liked the idea of them putting themselves into danger for him, though.
"I don't like this," he muttered, his hands tightening around Derek's shirt.
"Me neither."
The firm kicks their daughter aimed at his spleen told him she was in full agreement with them.
The lab sent the results two days later. No finger prints bar Derek's as expected. Peter returned one day later from his visit to the town twenty miles from Beacon Hills. As he had anticipated already, nobody there could tell him anything useful. Nobody could remember ever having seen the guy, not even when Peter showed them the man's picture.
If the package had been posted late at night when the guy had been passing through the town, that would explain why nobody could remember him.
That didn't make it any easier to accept that once again they had hit a completely dead end.
"Did they find anything yet?" Laura asked, curling her legs underneath her butt.
Derek and he were visiting the Hale manor today, but bar Laura and Alexander, everyone else was gone. Talia was at her office, doing whatever business a mayor did every day; Cora was visiting a friend's house and Peter was … Somewhere. Perhaps following a new lead; nobody could really say.
"No, nothing," Stiles answered sourly and Alexander grimaced in sympathy.
"The deputies still stationed in front of the building?" he asked, lifting his cup of tea to sip from it.
Derek nodded. "Yeah, they're switching shifts at different hours of the day so that if anyone's watching us, they can't detect a pattern."
Laura nodded approvingly. "That's a smart idea. Makes it a lot harder to catch them off guard."
"Yeah, but I can't wait until they're no longer needed," Stiles muttered, frowning. He winced when his baby kicked him firmly in his left side and started rubbing his stomach soothingly, shifting around to get into a more comfortable position.
"Erica's kind of kicking on it, though," Derek said wearily amused. "She's trying to guess when the shifts exactly end."
"As long as she's having fun," Alexander said dryly.
"Someone has to," Laura agreed wryly. Wrapping one hand around her knee, she asked, "How do you arrange the visits to the Nemeton? Do the deputies follow you then?"
But Stiles wasn't listening. A buzzing in his pocket distracted him and he wriggled his phone out of his pocket, expecting to see Scott or even his dad texting him about something.
Instead an unknown number greeted him and he opened the message, expecting to read something inane that was meant for someone else but was accidentally sent to him.
Instead he was greeted with a picture of a half finished nursery, a nursery he recognised very well, because it was the nursery in their apartment.
One single text accompanied the picture: Peekaboo, I see you
His heart seemed to stop for a moment before it suddenly started beating in overdrive, alerting the rest of the Hales.
"Stiles, what's wrong?" Derek asked worriedly, instantly shifting around to reach out with his hands as if he expected to have to draw pain away.
"He's – he's in our apartment, Derek," Stiles brought out through numb lips, the words wrangling themselves out of his throat. "He's at the apartment, he's in our home!"
"That son of a bitch!" Derek snarled as soon as he saw the picture and the text underneath it. He flew off the couch, fangs and claws instantly popping out. "How did he get in?!"
Stiles could only shake his head, his eyes trained on the picture of the nursery on his phone. The killer was inside their home. He'd got past the wards somehow without tipping off the Nemeton, had made his way across town without anyone noticing and now he was inside their apartment.
Standing in the nursery like he had every right to be there.
Taunting him by sending that damned picture.
"We're going to get him," Alexander stated and while his tone was calm, his eyes were burning with fury for the first time since Stiles knew him. "Laura, you stay here with Stiles. Call your mother, let her know where Derek and I are going. Stiles, call your dad, tell him to send everyone available to your apartment."
"We will," Laura said grimly when Stiles couldn't even bring himself to nod.
His stomach was twisting and flipping, his baby kicking up a terrible fuss in his stomach, reacting to his panic. As Derek went to follow his dad, Stiles shot up from the couch and snatched his sleeve, halting the older man.
"Don't get hurt," Stiles whispered, shivering as if he was cold. He wasn't, though, he was pretty warm, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop shivering even when it felt like his muscles were going to lock up any moment now.
"I won't," Derek murmured, his face briefly softening. Cupping the fox's neck, he pressed their mouths together in a soft kiss. "I'll be back before you know it. Stay safe and stay with Laura."
"Don't worry, baby bro, I'll keep an eye on him," Laura smiled, but the smile was terse and wavering and her eyes were shifting between the multicolours she shared with her brother and the red colour of her Alpha side.
Derek nodded, kissed Stiles again, caressing his stomach briefly, before he broke away and went outside where he and Alexander climbed into the latter's car and drove off with screeching tires.
"Come on, we've got some phone calls to make," Laura said softly, choosing to sit down next to him now.
"How did he get past the wards? Why didn't the Nemeton warn me?" Stiles questioned, unable to stop himself from feeling betrayed by the ancient tree.
The tree had warned him when that woman had tried to steal it – why hadn't it warned him now? Surely someone with killing intent wouldn't have been able to get past the tree's defences?
"I don't know, Stiles," she said quietly, grabbing her own phone. "We can worry about that later. Now, we have to call my mom and your dad first. That fucker is here now, we're going to make sure he won't get to leave again."
Judging by the hard, cold look on her face, she meant it. It was that coldness, that underlying seething hatred in her voice, that finally managed to dispel the daze Stiles had fallen in, enough to move his fingers and call his dad.
One way or another, they were going to make sure this ended today.
"Laura?" He sat up, frowning when he noticed how tense she stood in front of the window.
She had stood up to stretch her legs for a bit, but now she'd been standing in front of the window for nearly five minutes. It was the window which looked out at the lone pathway leading to their house and initially he assumed someone of the family had arrived, but he hadn't heard any car approaching, so that couldn't be it.
She turned her head slightly and smiled tensely. "I'm not sure, but I think there's someone outside. Someone who shouldn't be here," she murmured, barely moving her lips.
His heart dropped into his stomach, it felt like. "Wh-who?"
She shook her head. "Can't get a good look at them. Maybe it's just a trick of the light, but …" she trailed off and with a flick of her wrist, her claws replaced her pink painted fingernails.
She turned around, her lips pursed and an uncharacteristic solemn look on her face. "I'm going to take a look. I'm going to leave from the back; stay inside. I'll be right back."
"Laura," he said and couldn't help how tense he sounded. He really wasn't comfortable with her going out alone to confront whoever was lurking there. Unfortunately he wasn't exactly in the position to do the confronting either.
She gently nudged his shoulder. "I'll be fine. They're the ones who should be afraid," she smirked.
Silent as a ghost she went into the back. When he strained his ears he could hear the quiet 'snick' of the door opening and closing again as she went into the garden. Too restless to stay seated, he stood up and cast a quick look outside the window. He couldn't immediately spot anything suspicious, but he trusted her. If she said there was someone there, there was someone there. She wouldn't say that just to spook him – not now.
A low thump coming from somewhere near the kitchen had him almost jumping in fright and he whirled around; one hand pressed against his chest where his heart was beating like mad. He stood there for a long moment, straining his ears, but couldn't hear anything else.
"Laura?" he called out carefully, wondering if she had decided to come back already. "Is that you?"
No answer.
He swallowed and pressed one hand against his belly. His daughter was still fussing heavily inside of him, even with the limited space she had now that he was almost eight months pregnant.
Cautiously he left the living room, staring at the open kitchen door. From the doorway of the living room, he could see one chair and the fridge humming lowly. There was no other sound and slowly he moved forwards, keeping his eyes and ears trained for anything out of the ordinary. Whatever had made the sound, it definitely wasn't Laura. She would have answered by now or even come into view.
If it wasn't her, though, who or what could it be? A bird that had smacked against the window?
Warily he entered the kitchen, looking around carefully. Nothing seemed to be immediately amiss …
He crossed the pantry and the door leading to the basement, figuring he might as well check the window in case it had just been a stupid bird. Well, not that the bird was really to blame for scaring him, but still.
Something moved in the reflection of the fridge.
Instantly on high alert he whirled around but then a cloth was slapped across his mouth, something sharp and bitter forcing its way into his nostrils and he started lashing out, wrenching the cloth away and kicking out instinctively.
It was too late.
Darkness started to edge around his vision, the kitchen became blurry as the bitter scent settled into his system.
"N-no, d-d-don't …" he slurred, but all his strength abruptly left him, like he was some sort of puppet whose strings were cut and his knees buckled.
The last thing he saw before darkness completely consumed him was a very familiar man reaching out to grab him.
But it couldn't be him. It couldn't be him because, because …
He was out before he hit the ground.
AN2: Ah, cliffhangers, how I love thee.
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! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
Cuddles
Melissa
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