The Hunters

Chapter 4

It had been two days since they had "found" Stiles, and Scott was getting worried that they had decided to leave without telling anyone. He was considering heading to the motel he had recommended and see if they were there when there was a knock at the door.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Lydia asked.

"No," Scott shook his head as he answered the door. "Hey, Liam, what's up?"

Liam said nothing, but wordlessly handed Scott his phone where a text message was open.

Unknown Number:

This is Teresa. We'll meet you guys at Beacon Hills High School tomorrow at noon. Just the people we've already met. If anyone new comes, we're leaving and you'll never hear from us again.

"Good thing we haven't told the sheriff, yet," Lydia said, reading over Scott's shoulder.

"How did they even get your number?" Scott asked, handing Liam the phone back.

"I don't know," Liam shrugged. "Maybe they hacked into the school records?"

"What do you think they want to talk about?" Lydia asked.

"I don't know," Scott said. "But I hope they want to get their memories back."

"Wouldn't they have done that already if they could?" Liam pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Lydia said. "We don't know what they've been through. Maybe they were too scared to remember in case they didn't want to."

"The only thing I care about is making sure they don't leave," Scott said. "We're lucky they ended up here by chance. I don't think we'll get lucky again."

*****

Scott paced in front of the school, waiting for the others to show. He knew he was early, but he couldn't sit still at his house. He heard the sound of a car approaching and looked up as Lydia's car pulled up, followed by Derek's.

The others got out and Scott nodded at Lydia, "Let's go get Stiles back."

The hallways were eerily silent, the only sound being their own footsteps. Scott wasn't really sure what they were looking for, so they just wandered, trying to catch a scent. Eventually, they ended up outside where the lunch tables were.

"What are we even looking for?" Malia asked.

Scott was about to answer when he suddenly found himself catching an arrow that was coming straight for him, "What the?"

"Nice catch," they all turned around to see Minho coming out from nowhere, his spear hanging loosely in his right hand.

"Yeah," Teresa walked towards them from the front, lowering her crossbow. "I like you guys. Wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot."

"Maybe you shouldn't be shooting arrows, at us, then," Malia growled.

Teresa just smirked as Newt appeared on their left, leaning against one of the concrete pillars, his machete sheathed on his back, "We've heard a lot about your pack. Figured you could handle one of Tess's arrows."

"I told you to stop calling me that," Teresa narrowed her eyes at Newt who just shrugged with a faint smile.

"How?" Scott asked, wondering how they had heard of them if they had only escaped from WICKED a few weeks ago and had been on the road ever since. "How do you know about us?"

"Word travels fast if you know the right people," Stiles said from their right, copying Newt's stance. He had two pistols at his hips and a larger gun strapped to his back.

Scott hadn't realized it before, but he could see now that they were surrounded. The weapons were away but could be out and ready in less than a second.

"What do you want?" Derek asked.

"I told you we would be in touch," Stiles said. "I'm nothing if not a man of my word. Besides, we always meet with the packs in the area."

"Can we ask you something?" Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged, "Go for it."

"Why didn't you get your memories back?" Scott asked, hesitantly.

Stile's blank expression turned into a ghost of sadness, "It's not that we don't want to remember. Trust me, I want to have a normal life. But we've had too many doctors messing with our heads. I wasn't about to let them mess with me more. Besides, a lot of our friends died for WICKED's 'training'. I felt like the best way to honor them was to make sure all that wasn't for nothing, and I knew I wouldn't be able to be a hunter knowing about my past."

"Is that what they'd want?" Lydia said softly. "Would they want you to be living this life? Hopping from place to place, killing people, letting your families believe you're gone? I somehow don't think they'd want that."

A moment of silence.

"Believe me," Newt said, his voice carrying way too much pain and heartache for someone his age. "I know that they wouldn't want that. They'd want us to go back home, just like they wanted to do themselves. They're not the real reason, Tommy just says that to make himself feel better."

"Hey-" Stiles interrupted.

"Slim it, don't even try to tell me you think Chuck wanted this life for you," Newt practically glared at Stiles, who shrunk back like a scolded child. "We've had too many scientists poking at us like lab rats. The only people who would do the operation to get our memories were the doctors who used to work for WICKED. They said they had been looking for a way out for years, but we weren't about to let them cut us open. Not again."

Scott suddenly got an idea, "What if we told you we know a doctor who would do the operation, no questions asked?"

"I'm not going back to a hospital," Stiles said firmly. "I'm not going into an operating room."

"He doesn't work at a hospital," Liam smiled, catching on to Scott's plan.

*****

"So, what do you think?" Scott asked Deaton who had been eerily calm the entire time. He had brought the Gladers to the animal clinic along with Lydia, Malia, Liam, and Derek. Theo and Corey were going to the Sheriff's station to talk to Stilinski, and Mason and Argent both had business to take care of. Teresa had explained the surprisingly simple procedure to get their memories back.

"I can walk you through it," Teresa said. "I know how, but my hands shake too much for me to do it myself."

"I can certainly try," Deaton said. "But I have to say, I believe you're overestimating my abilities, Scott. I can't promise a flawless operation on the first try."

"I don't care," Minho said, his arms crossed. "I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I just want this thing out of my body. WICKED's controlled my life for too long and I want to get all of their tech out of me."

"I agree," Teresa chimed in. "I've been running from my past for too long. We all have. It's time we know the truth."

"Good that," Newt agreed. "Tommy?"

Stiles looked up from where was glaring a hole in the floor to Deaton, "We knew each other before?"

"Very well, Stiles," Deaton answered. "I like to think you considered me a very close friend."

"Then I'll do it," Stiles said. "You guys are right, it's time we stopped running from our pasts, and it's time we stop letting WICKED control our lives. I'm ready to accept whatever my life used to be."

Scott could see that they had all been having doubts for a while now. Whether it was wanting to get rid of WICKED, once and for all, or just being tired of running, figuratively and literally, they all wanted to do this.

"Let's get started then," Deaton said.

He got to work gathering a few supplies, setting a tray laden with cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, a scalpel, tweezers, gauze, and some adhesive bandages on the table, "Are you sure you don't want any anesthetic? It shouldn't be too bad, but it won't exactly be comfortable."

"We can handle it," Minho said, puffing his chest out a little."

"Hey, Minho," Newt started with a smirk. "Remember that time in Nashville when-"

"We agreed to never speak of that day again," Minho crosses his arms and glared at his friend.

The other three Gladers exchanged looks and sniggered and Scott frowned. This wasn't just Stiles, his best friend since preschool. This was four teenagers. Four children who were forced into this crazy situation no one should have to be in. It wasn't a crazy alpha, or anything else supernatural. They were kidnapped by scientists, people who were completely average and that made it worse than the supernatural.

Scott was snapped out of his thoughts by Stiles reluctantly climbing onto the table and laying down on his stomach, using his arms as a pillow. Scott was surprised since Stiles had seemed like the most reluctant to do the operation, and he couldn't help asking, "You're going first?"

"Even though Teresa is giving this guy directions, I still want to go first so that you get it figured out before you do the others. No offense, doc."

"None taken," Deaton said, pulling on a pair of gloves and wiping the back of Stiles's neck with some rubbing alcohol. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, just get it done.

Teresa uncapped the marker and drew a short line on the back of Liam's neck so that Deaton would know where to make the incision on Stiles. Even from the simple task, Scott could see her hand shaking. He wondered how she kept her hands steady enough to shoot her crossbow.

"Okay, but just deep enough to break through the skin," Teresa said. Deaton followed her instructions and Scott saw Stiles tense up as he made the cut. Deaton wiped away the blood that had pooled around the cut and took up the tweezers.

"There's a little chip just underneath the skin. It's right next to a nerve, so be careful."

Deaton stuck the tweezers in carefully, a look of deep concentration on his face, "I've got it."

"Pull it out slowly."

Deaton slowly pulled the tweezers out of Stiles's neck and brought out a small, green chip. The symbol on it was small, but Scott could see it clearly. The word "WICKED" in white capital letters. Deaton set the chip aside and wiped away some more blood before putting an adhesive bandage over the incision.

"That's it," Teresa said, noticing their hopeful looks, she added, "It takes a couple of hours for memories to start coming back, though."

"That's plenty of time to do the rest of you, then," Deaton said as he began cleaning up.

Stiles got off the table and Minho took his place. Newt was next and, finally, Teresa. It had taken about an hour to remove all the chips. There were a few attempts at conversation, but they ultimately ended up sitting in silence before Scott's phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller ID before answering.

"Hey, Theo, how'd it go with the Sheriff?"

"That's actually a funny story," Theo said. "You see, we said a lot of things, he said a lot of things, and-"

"He punched Theo in the face when he tried to keep him from leaving and he's heading there now," Corey cut him off.

"I was getting there," Theo said, his voice a little muffled.

"I got you there before the turn of the century."

Scott sighed, he had been hoping their memories would be back before bringing the Sheriff into this, "Okay. When do you think he'll be here?"

"Stiles!" the door to the animal clinic burst open and the Sheriff suddenly appeared in the doorway with Theo and Corey right behind him.

"About now," Theo said unnecessarily into his phone before hanging up.

"Stiles," Stilinski rushed forward and pulled Stiles into a hug, tears streaming down his face. "Where have you been?"

"Dad?" Stiles said uncertainty. "I um-I"

"You know what? Iit doesn't matter, you're here now. And you're safe."

Stilinski pulled away and Stiles looked around at them all before his eyes settled on one, "Scott?"

Scott barely allowed himself to be hopeful, "Stiles? Do you remember anything?"

"Yeah. . . I remember," Stiles looked down at the ground like he was trying to process something. He looked up at the rest of the pack and blinked in recognition. "I remember everything."