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Groundhog Year: Book 1

Summary:

(Completed fic!)

The new year just started when everyone got a text from Stiles to meet up at Beacon Hills High at exactly 12:42 am. Of a matter of Life and Death. And they learn that this gangly teen has been feeling the new year jitters for a long LONG while now.

"I guess I'll start of by saying Happy New Year. And well...

...this is the 17th time I've lived this damn new year.
And it's getting pretty old.”

Notes:

My second fic. still itchy with writing so i will accept any comments, constructive/destructive criticisms. Sporadic writer too (sorry).
I hope it flows well.

 

Basically the new year got me this plot bunny for Stiles. And I hope I can work on POV's of everyone. But I have a cast of 28++ to work with so it will get me a while.

Please comment if this featurette looks promising!

Chapter 1: Revelation Arc Part 1: Happy Freaking New Year

Summary:

T/W: None that I could catch.

Chapter Text

It's a brand new year. Almost.
Alcohol was flowing. Fireworks were popping. Lips were locking.

And dear old Stiles Stilinski was researching like crazy as usual.

Lydia had a party. He wasn't invited. Simple as that.

 

Well...
Scott was invited, but so was Allison. Scott wanted to see her, but not see her, so he offered to make Stiles his plus-one. And then it will be a whole night of eye fuc-, I mean pining, between them and the Stilinator was not down for that.

The little right corner of his laptop screen said 11:59. He wiped his brow and waited.

Another year of mediocrity for good ol' boring Stilinski, he mused.

The Browns next door had the family over. And even with his human ears, he could hear the family chanting:

“SIX..

FIVE..

FOUR..

THREE..

TWO..

O-”

Then, everything was black.

 


At precisely 12:42 am, exactly 17 cellphones chimed and vibrated with text messages.


Derek was out patrolling this old building he just purchased this last year. He was more bored than anything. Too old to hang out with the other wolves, too young to pretend to have an adult life. The text was probably one of his betas – read Erica- drunk greeting him into the new year.

As he turned the southeast corner probably the 24th time that night, he bumped a gangly boy in a sweatshirt.

“It's actually the 28th time you went around, Derek,” he said.

Derek eyed the boy. Wait, huh?

“Check your damned text messages, Sourwolf.” the boy bit back.

“Stiles,” Derek replied. Not a question.

“I need you to check the message and meet me at your family vault.”

Derek blanched. How did Stiles know-

“I'll tell you how I know about the place the same time as everyone else. See you in 14 minutes. And, again in 22. You might want to bring an extra pair of socks and boots. ” Stiles hunched his shoulders and left.

Derek watched the boy walk away. He smelled the same. He looked the same. But he acted.. different.

His phone lit up. It's 12:42 am, of the new year.


S. Stil. sent a message.

“You may or may not know me. It is imperative that you meet me at the following address at 1:30 am. A matter of life and death. Bon jour pour mourir.


 

Scott and Allison ended up in their usual spot, making out and the glass was fogging up, when knocking came from the window.

“Hey, Scott, buddy. Check your freaking phone!,” Stiles screamed through the fog.

Both he and Allison scramble to cover themselves up. “Stiles, is that you?,” Allison asks.

“No, it's Bigfoot. Come on, guys. Check your phones,” He retorts. He jumps up and down trying to warm up. “I need backup for this.”

“Backup for what?,” Scott says, his head through his shirt. He starts to roll down the window. “You really couldn't ha-”

“-have come at a worse time,” Stiles interrupts. “I know. You've told m- You'll tell me like a dozen times this year. Just hurry up.”

Allison chimes, “Gimme a sec, I can't find my-”

“-your phone is under Scott's seat, closer to the mid compartment. Your keys are in your left jeans pocket with a pack of gum and a bolt for your crossbow. Be careful taking it out,” Stiles helps.

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott jokes. He starts to reach under his seat as Allison grabs her jeans from the back seat. “How can you possi-” The teen wolf grabs Allison's phone as her car companion pulls out the keys along with the bolt and the aforementioned gum.

“Now that I have your attention, hurry up.” Stiles casually climbs in the back seat. “I need a ride to Danny's then to Isaac's. We have twelve minutes, and you have a lot of questions you wanna ask right now.”


Stiles gives as little information as he can.
“I have to repeat myself 3 more times tonight, anyway,” he reasons.

He even gets off track a couple of times. Not entirely his fault.
“No, I did not get super smell or wolfified, Scott”
“I've seen them like 20 times anyway **ow ow ow** not intentionally, Allison!”

He even points out “fun stuff” along the way.
“At this corner coming up, the house still has Halloween decorations. It's HILARIOUS!”
“I never quite figured out why Ms. Connely got stuck in that tree today.”
“Oh, this guy is gonna blow chunks in our direction in the next block. Either drive slow, or on the left side of the road.”
“That bolt in your pocket is gonna kill something awesome in like 2 months. You'll never believe what happens!”

And every single thing gets more and more questions from the not-couple.


Their little quest does nothing to help either. Apparently, Danny has to convince Jackson to go to this meeting. AND, to threaten him with the Fresno Hooters incident of last year, and how Stiles has 2 eyewitnesses and a confession from “parties involved.”

Danny replies with a) “How the fuck do you know?” b) “Pretty Impressive. You weren't even there.” and c) “Wait, do you have Ian's number from that night?“
To which Stiles replies “His name is actually Jimmy. Jimmy Buntz. You were calling him the wrong name all night. His Facebook profile is public. And, he listens to country music. Total dealbreaker. Plus, he's best friends with that unmentionable Grindr date from Spooner St.”

Dear old Danny deadpans and promises (threatens) to have a word with him about that later. Danny drives off to Jackson's. And they drive over to Isaac's old home.

The 4 minute drive had the unfortunate company of an adorable question from Scott:
“What's Grindr?”

To which, Allison blushes and Stiles laughs out loud. “Every single time, buddy. Same question every single time,” Stiles wipes a tear from his eye, a manly tear of laughter. “I'll leave that answer to Danny, Allison, and Liam's friend Mason later. Oooh, that reminds me. Allison, lend me your phone.”

All that's left is the sound of texting while Allison consoles dear old Scott.


They drive up to see the Camaro parked outside and Derek switching boots.

“Told you, Derek,” Stiles smirked as they walked up to the door.

“What happened?,” Scott asks.

“I'll tell you later when two-thirds of the Brat Pack arrive here in 3.. 2..,” Stiles counts as Erica and Boyd walk up the street, all leather clad and broody.

“Hey Catwoman, Boyd!,” Stiles waves. “Bit chilly, innit?” He turns and walks up the path to Isaac's front door and walks right in, key in hand. Three minutes later, he walks out with Isaac, pocketing a small item in a balled up handkerchief.

The group converges by Derek's car, the new alpha staring down the hooded teen.

“What's going on, Derek?,” Erica chimes. “Why did Moles-for-Brains call us out here?”

“Fourteen minutes, Derek,” Stiles said, ignoring Erica completely. Stiles shows Derek his phone (12:56 am) “Everyone's on time this year.”

He pockets his phone and takes out a snack bag, starting to explain. Derek eyes the bag confused.

“The next part requires a little patience, guys. And a lot of faith. So please, have a little faith in me.” Stiles throws the contents of the bag in the air and that ash starts to form circles around each wolf. They start to scream and push against an invisible barrier. (“What the fuck? Stiles?!” “What is this shit?!” “Why can't I move?!”)

Stiles mumbles something under his breath and suddenly the wolves could no longer be heard. Allison draws her crossbow and Stiles just grabs it out of her hand. He dismantles it right in front of her face in 4 seconds flat. She grabs for a knife that isn't there. And Stiles just explains “I left them in your car.”

She readies for a fight. Unarmed? So be it.
“I need you to stop Allison, and I'll explain,” Stiles screams at her.

He just turns around then addresses the mute wolves as four of them start to growl and claw. “Stop growling and I'll explain all that I can.”

Stiles brandishes a knife and gun from behind him, “Gimme 3 minutes and a lot of faith. Please," and hands them to Allison. "If not, then bon jour pour mourir.

“A good day to die?,” she asks.

“I'd rather live to tell the tale,” he smiles. “You can hear me. I canceled the sound from the rest of you. I guess I'll start of by saying Happy New Year. And well...

...this is the 17th time I've lived this damn new year.
And it's getting pretty damn old.”