Chapter 20

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I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, trying to find anything wrong with my appearance. I was ready for the rave, dressed for style and for movement. I figured I'd be able to blend in more if I actually looked like I was there to enjoy myself, not to prevent the death of yet another human from the supernatural beast called the Kanima, also known as Jackson Whittemore.

My phone gave a little ring, no doubt Stiles texting me he was here. I grabbed my phone, confirming it was actually Stiles, and headed downstairs, avoiding all Argents on my way. I found Stiles' jeep a few streets over and got it, noting how quiet Stiles was.

"You okay?" I asked him as he started driving, heading to Scott's house where we'd pick him up and then go to the rave.

Stiles sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel. "My dad got fired."

I blinked, startled. "What? Why?"

Stiles rubbed his face with one hand, guilt radiating off of him in waves. "It was decided that the son of a police chief stealing police property and having a restraining order filed against him by one of the town's most respected attorneys did not reflect well on the county."

"That sucks," I said quietly, "but don't blame yourself for it."

Stiles scoffed, looking at the road. "I did it though."

"You did it to keep people safe. Your dad might not understand that, but I do. You do. Just remember that."

Stiles glanced at me, thinking, before shrugging. "Yeah, maybe."

I knew he still felt guilty, but I also knew I couldn't do anything else about it so I let the subject drop, staying quiet as we picked Scott up and drove to the rave. The ride was silent, and when we got out Stiles went straight to the boot, opening it up to reveal bags full of mountain ash, a substance that supposedly trapped supernatural creatures within its confinements.

"Stiles, you okay?" Scott asked when we opened the boot.

Stiles cast him a wary glance. "Yeah, why?"

"You didn't say anything the whole way here."

Stiles looked at me, a silent plea not to tell Scott anything. He knew Noah much better than I did, so the news was only bound to upset him and distract him from the task at hand. I gave Stiles a shallow nod, agreeing not to tell Scott as we surveyed the bags of mountain ash.

"No, I'm fine. Let's grab the bags," Stiles said, heaving one of the bags out of the boot.

Scott and I shared a look.

"We can't, remember?" I said gently. "Deaton said you had to do it alone."

Stiles dropped the next bag onto the floor. "Okay this plan is really starting to suck."

Scott's gaze snagged on something in the distance and he frowned, as if concentrating on something before cursing. "No, not here. Not now."

Before Stiles and I got the chance to ask him what was wrong he sprinted off, running much faster than the average human.

"Wait, Scott! What am I supposed to do-"

Scott turned a corner, disappearing from view and leaving Stiles and I alone, the boy letting out a frustrated sigh as he stared at the bags at his feet.

"I'd better go find him..." I said reluctantly, not wanting to leave Stiles alone when he was obviously struggling with the news of his dad.

Stiles nodded, focusing on the bags in front of him as he said, "yeah, yeah, go on." I started walking away when I heard him mutter under his breath, "plan officially sucks."

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