The Huntress {Stiles Stilinski}

Raving - Mountain ash

A/N: Hey guys, so I know whenever Rae and Stiles have a . . . you know, scene . . . it isn't very detailed. Well, that's gonna change having a pushy best friend who is also a dirty little minx ;) but just a warning that this is quite detailed, much more than I've done before. I'll put a few stars beside the smut part and then when it's finished too so if you don't like it you can skip it. <3Beth

Raelynn's P.O.V.

It's so rare that Stiles and I get any alone time anymore. But tonight, when there's nothing happening in Beacon Hills (as of yet), Stiles drove me up here so I could watch the stars from one of my favorite spots. I'd spotted it when I was running the other day, and I just fell in love with it. It's a small secluded spot at the edge of the preserve, overlooking the town and showing the twinkling stars.

"This is perfect," I sigh, nuzzling into Stiles' shoulder. We're sat in the back of the Jeep, and he packed a little picnic for us before we left. From where I'm laying on his chest, I can spot the stars winking down at us.

"You know what would make it super perfect?" he adds, giving me a look. I roll my eyes and peck his lips.

"Just because we have some free time doesn't mean we're doing that," I scold, and he pouts at me. I hesitate a moment, and then shrug, moving so my body is perfectly aligned with his. "I don't see the harm." I'm rewarded with a triumphant grin that makes a deep laugh erupt from my belly, and Stiles wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his body.

***************Our lips crash hungrily against one another's, and it's just now that I realize how much I've missed him in this way. Before everything happened, we could do this whenever we wanted. But now, we're fighting to not be killed by some weird kanima thing that is actually Jackson and whoever is controlling him.

I shift slightly, earning a groan from Stiles. I grin down onto his lips in response, and his lips move from mine as I push his jacket from his shoulders. His lips trail feather light kisses from my lips, along my jawline, then up to my ear. My eyes flutter closed, but a loud moan escapes my lips when he bites down on my earlobe, causing my hips to buck and a smile form on my face when I'm met with a welcome friction beneath me.

He grips my shirt and pulls it off, exposing me from the waist up. I still have my bra on, but he doesn't make any move to pull that off. Instead, he presses our bodies together after I remove his shirt, the skin-on-skin contact igniting my skin like never before. I gasp as his hands tug at my jeans, and I repeat his actions on him. My lips plant hot kisses over his neck, and his fingers tighten on my hips as he's suddenly thrusting into me. I cry out in unexpected pleasure, our lips finding their way back to one another as our hips move in sync. His hands are wrapped in my hair while mine grip his shoulder blades, squeezing with every thrust he gives.

When I feel my legs tighten, I nip his earlobe, and he comes undone beneath me. Seeing that sets me off, and soon I'm collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily as we both let our hearts slow down. A giggle bubbles up inside of me, and I kiss his lips quickly before rolling off of him.*******************************************

"Come on," I sigh, deepening the kiss when Stiles sits back up. "We said we'd get your dad dinner."

"Really?" he gasps, feigning shock. I raise an eyebrow at him as I climb into the front of the Jeep, and he follows suit. "After what we just did, you can say that to me?"

I shove his shoulder. "Yes. You know how cranky he gets when we don't give him food. Besides, I didn't think it would be that . . . fast." This time, Stiles raises his eyebrow and presses a finger into my ribs, essentially catching my most ticklish spot. I squeal and bat his hands away, giving him a sharp look. "We know I'm not responsible for your injuries when you tickle me." Last time he did, he had a limp for a few days where I'd kicked him so hard.

He nods at me and starts the Jeep after kissing me again, and we drive off to get the Sheriff's dinner. I watch Stiles as he drives, his fingers drumming to the music coming from the radio. He looks so content, so happy. So in love. Which we both are. Once he's ordered his dad's food and ours, we head to the police station.

"Stiles," I say as we walk in. He looks down at me with an inquisitive look. "You know I love you, right?" He grins, and I shrug. "I just feel like I don't say it often enough." He takes my hand and raises it above my head, effectively getting me to spin around. The officers in the station are watching us with smiles, and I flush as Stiles presses a chaste kiss to my lips and we walk into Sheriff's office.

"Hey," I say happily as we walk in. Sheriff gives us an odd look, trying to figure out why we're so happy all of a sudden. "We got your dinner."

"Thank you," he says, putting his paper work aside and standing to hug me before I sit down at the desk beside his main desk. Stiles is already placing the food out on the table, and he opens his own food before pushing mine towards me. Sheriff takes a big bite of his burger as I eat a few of my fries, but his face doesn't look pleased. He puts the burger back in the container and glares at us. "What the hell is this?"

"A veggie burger," Stiles informs him. I send Sheriff an apologetic smile, but he isn't showing any signs of backing down.

"Stiles, I asked for a hamburger."

"Yeah Stiles," I say, facing him with an ear-splitting grin.

Stiles makes a face at me and then looks to his dad. "Well, veggie is healthier. We're being healthy."

"Oh, hell, why are you two trying to ruin my life?" Sheriff snaps.

"Hey, I argued for you to get the hamburger," I defend.

"I'm trying to extend your life, okay," Stiles says. "Could you just eat it, please? And tell me what you found."

Sheriff shakes his head. "No. I'm not sharing confidential police work with my teenage son and his girlfriend." My heart always flutters when I'm called Stiles's girlfriend.

"Is that it on the board behind you?" I ask, pointing with my plastic fork to the pieces of paper pinned to the board.

"Don't look at that." It's a command, and I immediately revert my eyes away from the board, slipping back into old habits. Sheriff tilts his head at me before getting distracted by Stiles. "Avert your eyes, Stiles."

Stiles sits up in his chair, pushing himself up so he can see what the Sheriff's body is hiding. "Just - it's just - I see arrows pointing at pictures."

"Okay, okay," Sheriff gives in, waving his hands in defeat. "Okay, stop. Fine. I found something. Mechanic and the couple who were murdered. They all had something in common."

"All three?" I ask, keeping my eyes from the board like I was told.

"Yeah." Sheriff shrugs at me, but sends a slight nod my way. I quickly glance at the board, and he doesn't yell or shout, so I know I can look at it. "You know what I always say. One's an incident. Two's a coincidence."

"Three's a pattern," Stiles finishes.

"The mechanic, the husband, the wife - all the same age. All 24."

"Wait, what about Mr. Lahey?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion. "I mean, Isaac's dad isn't anywhere near 24."

"Which made me think that either A) Lahey's murder wasn't connected, or B) the ages were a coincidence, until I found this, which could be C)." Sheriff hands me a red folder across his desk, and Stiles leans closer to me to read it, too. His scent travels up through my nostrils, and my lips flick into a small smile as I glance over at him. "Did either of you two know that Isaac Lahey had an older brother named Camden?"

Stiles and I shake our heads. "'Died in combat'?"

"But if he were alive today, take one guess as to how old he'd be."

"24," Stiles and I say in unison. Stiles and I look at each other before we stand and make our way around opposite sides of the desk, coming to stand in front of the board. Sheriff turns around in his chair and stands up so he's between us.

There's a moment of silence before I say, "What if same age means class?"

"Did you think of that?" Stiles asks quickly.

"Yeah, yeah." Sheriff runs a hand over his face, and then shrugs. "Well, I mean I would've. I - look, I just got Lahey's file two hours ago."

"Two hours!?" Stiles says loudly. "Dad, people could be dying."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. Thank you." Sheriff's tone is rough and he sounds tired. Stiles and I glance at each other, and then we gasp.

"Same class." Sheriff gives us an odd look as we say the same thing again, and he seems to understand a moment later.

We slam the yearbooks on the Sheriff's desk, swiping all the food and other papers out of the way. We're trying to find the yearbook that would fit with the ages that the victims were. I hold it up once I've got it and place it so we can all see it.

"This is it," Stiles says, doing a running commentary as I flip through the pages. "Class of 2006. They all went to Beacon Hills."

"Including Issac's brother," Sheriff adds, jabbing his finger on the file that proves Isaac's brother went to Beacon Hills with the other victims. I look up to see them looking at files with lots of numbers on them. Stiles puts his file down and peers over at his father's, as do I.

"All right," I say, shaking my head and trying to clear it, "but so what if they all knew each other? I mean, two of them were married, so maybe they all hung out when they were at school."

"Well, they could have had the same classes together," Sheriff shrugs, considering the possibility. "They could've . . . " he trails off, glancing down at another piece of paper and then at the two of us.

"What?" Stiles and I ask.

"Same teacher." Sheriff turns the file towards us, revealing the teacher all three victims had.

"Harris," I breathe out, glancing up at Stiles, who holds the same shocked expression as me. "They were all in his class?"

"All four," Sheriff says, putting Camden in the class, too. "And I don't know how Mr. Lahey fits in, but this . . . kids, this is definitely a pattern." Stiles and I are nodding enthusiastically. This is clearly something Stiles and Sheriff do together, and I feel privileged to be included in it. "All right, give mt the 2006 yearbook." I hand it over to him. "These names, we need faces."

"Which ones?" I ask, moving around to Stiles and putting the file with all the names in front of him.

"Everyone in that chemistry class," Sheriff informs us. We both look up at him. "If the killer's not done killing-"

"One of them's next," Stiles finishes.

"Yeah," Sheriff nods, picking up the phone and dialing a number. As he does so, I start telling Stiles the names of the students in Harris's 2006 chem class, and he starts finding the faces in the yearbook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, Stiles pulls into the parking lot with Scott sat in the front and me in the back of the Jeep. I can't help but remember our lascivious activities last night. The school bell rings in the distance, but I just don't have the energy. My hair is falling over my shoulder, trapped under the strap of my bag, but I don't care as I clamber clumsily from the Jeep.

"There's gotta be some other way to get tickets, right?" Scott asks as he walks around to join me and Stiles on the sidewalk. Matt is locking his bike up beside us, and turns around as he spots us.

"It's a secret show," Stiles says. "There's only one way, and it's a secret."

"Can we just stop," I beg, suppressing a yawn. Stiles chuckles and rubs my arm affectionately. "I'm too tired for this crap."

"Hey," Matt says, coming up to us. I notice that his eyes linger on me for a moment longer than I'm comfortable with. "Any of you two know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?"

"Just forget about it," Stiles snaps, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. "Nobody got hurt."

"I - I had a concussion." Matt's face shows how he's not impressed that Stiles has forgotten that part.

"Well, nobody got seriously hurt," I add, and Stiles nods in agreement.

"I was in the E.R. for six hours."

"Hey, do you wanna know the truth, Matt?" Stiles asks, not even trying to hide the boredom in his voice. He bends down and places his hand just one inch above the floor, and all our eyes follow him. Scott looks horrified that Stiles is doing that, Matt looks pissed off, and I suppress my smile. "Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now." I tug on Stiles's arm and bring him back up.

"Are you okay?" Scott sighs.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," Matt says, his eyes sweeping over me again. "So you didn't get any tickets last night either."

"Are they still selling?" Scott asks hopefully.

"Uh, no, but I managed to find two online. You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone's gonna be there." He turns around and heads off in a different direction, sending me a small smile before he goes.

"I don't like him," Stiles says simply once he's just out of earshot. I giggle and kiss his cheek. "Hey, are you sure about this?"

"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody because he didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's going to do this time?"

Stiles sighs before shrugging. "Be there to make sure it happens."

The boys have practice first, so I head off to find Allison. When I do, she looks flustered and distracted by something. "You okay?" I ask as I walk up to her locker. She nods and slams it closed, walking away from me. I easily get in front of her and raise an eyebrow. "What happened?"

She tells me everything. About how Dad forced her to tell him what happened, and how he knows about the two other murders. "I mean, do I tell Scott?"

"Yes," I say immediately. "It'll be easier for him if you do."

"I . . . I'm still meeting Matt tonight." Allison hangs her head, and I tilt my own head at her. My little twin seems so ashamed, and I realize something.

"You haven't told Scott, have you?" I ask, and she shakes her head. "You should. It would be better coming from you rather than someone else."

She nods, brushing her hair away from her face. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Something still seems off with her, but she stands up before I can say anything else. "I'm gonna go find him now, actually. I'll see you later?" I nod at her with a soft smile, one she returns, and hurries down the corridor.


After school, Stiles, Scott, and I head down to the vet clinic to get the orders we need from Deaton. Once we're in the back, out of sight, he holds up a small bottle of some kind of drug. "Ketamine?" Scott asks.

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage," Deaton shrugs, putting the small bottle down on the table. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time. This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier." He holds up a small jar of something that looks like black ash. "This part is for you, Stiles. Only you." He sets the jar down, and Stiles picks it up.

"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure," Stiles sighs, and I smirk at him from the opposite side of the table. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?"

"It's from the mountain ash tree," Deaton says, ignoring Stiles's comment, "which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for someone like Scott or Rae to cause me any trouble."

"Okay, so then what?" Stiles asks. "I just spread this around the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"

"They'll be trapped," Deaton confirms.

"Doesn't sound too hard," I say in an attempt to reassure Stiles.

"Not all there is," Deaton says, regaining our attention. "Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles."

"If you mean lighting myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that." Deaton and I chuckle as Scott just looks at his best friend and shakes his head.

"Let me try a different analogy. I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

"Force of will," Stiles says, giving me a glance, and I nod at him.

"If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it." Stiles nods, his eyes still on me as I smile at him, trying my best to tell him without words that I believe in him.