Alan Deaton isn’t quite sure when he started talking to The Universe in his head, but he suspects that it happened around when Mieczysław Stilinski came to pick Scott up from work in his Jeep for the first time.
Scott was an amazing assistant; he showed a lot of talent and intelligence, even early on. The only problem was his best friend. The first time Stiles came to Deaton’s clinic, Scott was still in an exam room, cleaning up. Deaton didn’t think that Stiles could do any harm by just going in and keeping Scott company, so he let Stiles into the room.
As he was shutting down the check in computer, there was a loud crashing noise, and a hiss of pain coming from the examination room. Running in, Deaton was shocked at just how much damage Stiles had managed to do.
Stiles had somehow broken the cart holding the surgical tools he’d just spent a good chunk of his time sterilizing. In addition, a scalpel was sticking out of his arm. Ten minutes (and 9 stitches later), Deaton just told the two boys to go home - he could finish cleaning.
Deaton should have known better than to assume it would stop there.
Why didn’t they just ask me for help?
Deaton had been prepared to skim through the security camera footage, as per usual, when something happened. As he watched, Stiles dragged a scowling and sickly pale Derek Hale into his exam room.
Deaton paused the video, then poured himself a big cup of coffee. Now somewhat prepared for what he was about to watch, he turned the volume up so he could hear.
“You know, that really doesn’t look like anything some econesia and a good night’s sleep couldn’t take care of…”
So Derek had gotten shot by the Argents, Deaton had been waiting for something like this to happen (though, if he was being honest, Deaton had been expecting it to happen to Scott, him being younger and less...experienced with hunters).
When Derek suggested cutting off his arm, Deaton sighed.
I have a supply of wolfsbane in the back, why couldn’t they just ask me? Derek should know that I know about the supernatural. Though, if his mother hadn’t told him…
Eventually, Derek was cured - without cutting his arm off - and he hadn’t even had to intervene.
How did Stiles even get my phone number?
It has now been more than a year since Derek was shot, and things hadn’t gotten better. While before, Deaton’s - for lack of better words - prayers to The Universe were just exasperated anecdotes, they could also be long rants about idiotic and dangerous decisions, or death wishes, or, once, when he was extremely drunk, a 10,000 word essay about how it might be in The Universe’s favor to just put him (or Stiles) out of his misery now, instead of forcing him to deal with this for what could very well be years in the future.
He called me at 3 AM, and didn’t speak for five seconds. I was about to hang up, when he whispered “I know you’re one of them”, and then hung up on me.
For more context on yesterday’s message, Scott told me that Stiles was sleeping off two all nighters in a row.
Scott had told Deaton this when he had asked about Stiles, slightly concerned about the phone call. At least this sort of explains a few things.
Stiles acted extremely strangely today - or, at least, more strange than normal.
Oh, really? What did he do?
The Voice answered back, deep and soothing.
Deaton had told himself, when he first started sending these prayers, that he wasn’t crazy until he imagined someone talking back. Since then, he has revised this to I’m not crazy until I start seeing people that no one else can see .
When I asked him why he was wearing a clove of garlic as a necklace, he froze for two seconds, then yelped, tripped, and knocked everything off of my counter, and two carts carrying sharp implements. And then he ran out the back door.
That is indeed very strange.
Are you sure you don’t want to kill me?
Yes, The Voice chuckled. What happened today?
It had been a few days since The Garlic Incident, as Dr. Deaton liked to call it, and he just didn’t know if he could take it anymore.
While I was talking to a client, he tried to sneak up behind me, and then he spilled water down my shirt. I don’t know what he expected to happen, but he seemed...disappointed at the outcome. I think. I was mainly focusing on not killing my employee’s future emissary for doing that in front of one of my best paying clients. I do have a job, even if they refuse to acknowledge it!
Did the client care?
That is not the point.
Stiles was arrested today.
Was this unexpected?
Not particularly, though I wasn’t expecting for him to get arrested for breaking into the morgue and attempting to draw blood from one of the corpses. I’d assumed that if there was a vampire in Beacon Hills that they would tell me. He’s been bailed out, so I’ll go bring him some dead man’s blood from my own stash.
I realized why they hadn’t told me about the vampire.
Stiles was the only one who believed it to be real...he thought it was me. I was made aware of this when I handed him a vial of dead man’s blood, with instructions of how to use it, and he replied, horrified: “You keep your own poison in your clinic?!”. It was a very surreal experience.
What did you do?
I left. I hadn’t realized that was what they thought of me. Am I supposed to feel this pain in my chest?
For the first time since The Voice started replying, his question was left unanswered.
Be very grateful, because I don’t do this often, but I am saying I was wrong.
Thinking that it would be better if you killed me - or Stiles. This afternoon, he came in with his father and the K9 dog that I was going to examine. I assumed that this was going to be as big a disaster as every other time he has stepped over the threshold of my building, but it wasn’t. Instead, he slowly and cautiously walked into a clear section of the room, put his hands in his pockets, and didn’t talk until his father looked at him pointedly. Then he told me - I quote because these words will forever be burned into my memory - “I’m sorry for assuming you were a vampire. It was rude, and insensitive. I should have at least asked before jumping to conclusions, and I was wrong.”. Then he just...walked out. He didn’t even fiddle with anything expensive or rare the entire time he was there... It felt wrong .
Luckily, the next time Stiles walked into the clinic, he was back to normal. Deaton was relieved until he heard the telltale crash and “...sorry.” coming from the back.