Act I

"We all go a little mad sometimes..."

Stiles hadn't had a single good night of sleep in two years. Two years! Scott just wouldn't let him. Or better saying, the guilt of Scott's haunted soul wouldn't let either of them rest in peace. Every night was the same. The same dream. The same nightmare. It pulsed into Stiles and shook him away from the gorgeous redhead that had been giving him a sponge bath (now that was definitely what he called a dream) and wrapped him in the familiar images of the car crash that had almost taken their lives a few months ago.

Stiles opened his eyes. "Scott," he called out to the darkness. There was no answer. Stiles called again, this time with more urgency. "Scott!" He heard his friend move on the other bed. The tension left his body.

"I had—I had that dream again," Scott told him, unnecessarily.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I noticed."

They stayed there for a while, quietly admiring the ceiling. Eventually Scott decided to get up, announcing his hunger to his friend. Stiles sat up facing the window, attentively listening to Scott's footsteps. The moon was out and bright tonight; so bright in fact that Stiles could make out the silhouettes of trees and bushes.

And of someone watching him.

Stiles stood up. The figure was about thirty feet away. It took just a moment for whoever it was to just disappear between the trees, but Stiles was sure of what he had seen. Icy fear raced through him and he bolted out of the room before you could have said 'mythological creatures suck'.

He found Scott rummaging through the refrigerator. "We have to go. Now."

Scott turned around, his eyes widening. "Are you... Are you sure?"

Stiles nodded, grabbing the car keys. Scott unhesitatingly followed him with complete faith that his friend would take care of everything. A certainty Stiles felt unworthy of.

They stepped outside, in their pajamas, their feet bare, their hands empty. Together they rushed down the street to where the car was parked. They could hear footsteps behind them. They were ten feet from the car when a girl stepped directly into their path.

She was young, maybe as young as they were. And tall for a girl, the type Stiles could as well be dreaming about. A long, thick braid of brown hair fell down to her waist and she wore tight black clothes which showed off her curves. Dark brown eyes pierced Stiles daring him to move.

Any other day, Stiles would have considered asking her out. But his crush was irrelevant at the moment. Stiles realized they were surrounded. There were a dozen or so guardians—which, in a way, was kind of nice. It made Stiles feel like a threat. It meant they thought he was that good. The queen herself didn't travel with that many guardians! And they had thought it necessary to fight someone like Stiles.

With a cocky smile, he acted out of instinct. He leaped out in an offensive maneuver he hadn't used in two years. It was stupid and reckless. A reaction born out of false confidence. And, as it turned out, it was also hopeless considering the girl's speed. She knocked him off as though brushing away a fly. Her hands slammed into his chest sending Stiles flying backwards. He slammed onto the floor, gasping. He tried to get back up, but suddenly Scott was kneeling beside him.

"Don't," he asked.

Stiles sagged in defeat.

Sensing there would be no more fighting from him, the girl stepped forward, turning her attention to Scott. "I'm Malia Tate," she said, a little bit too formally for someone that young. "I was sent here to take you back to the Academy, Prince McCall."

The girl made a point of sitting beside Stiles in the airplane. He didn't care. He knew it was so she could watch him and make sure he wouldn't try to escape. Unfortunately, Malia Tate also wanted to talk.

"Were you really going to fight us all?" she asked with an amused type of curiosity. Instead of answering, Stiles stared out the window absentmindedly. "Wow," she went on. She didn't sound impressed. "Are you an imbecile? Why did you even try?"

Stiles looked at her. He knew he was blushing and that angered him. "I'm his guardian," he told her with as much dignity as the title could grant someone.

Malia Tate turned serious at that. "Well, it was stupid," she remarked, "but also really brave." She moved, scanning the airplane for threats or something, and Stiles caught a glimpse of a tiny symbol tattooed on the back of her neck. The mark of a sanctioned vampire slayer.

He pointed at it. "When did you get...?" The look she gave him made perfectly clear she was not going to discuss that with him. Stiles didn't insist. He thought the tattoo looked quite new; she had probably just gotten it. "Aren't you a little young to be a guardian?"

"Aren't you?" she countered.

"Well, I'm not licensed," he admitted.

Her face softened. "I know. You haven't graduated yet."

"And you have?"

"With honors," she said. Oddly enough, she didn't sound cocky. She was just stating a fact. "I had enough credits to graduate early. This is my first official assignment though."

"Congrats," he mumbled with jealousy. He would do anything to graduate early. Anything but study, that is...

When they arrived at their destination, Stiles asked Malia if they were being taken to Finstock.

"Principal Finstock," she corrected.

"I don't give a—" His words were cut short when they went through a set of doors right into the cafeteria. And it was breakfast time. Both the novice guardians and the half-breeds raised their heads to watch them come through. Stiles returned their stares with a lazy grin.

Everything looked the same, he noticed.

Jackson Whittemore still looked like a jerk; as usual. Kate Argent, the shy, quiet girl, watched them with big, innocent eyes. Erica Reyes, who loved breaking rules, smiled and gave them the thumbs up. Hayden Romero, who had always had a major crush on Scott, looked as hot as ever. She watched them with interest. The only new thing Stiles could spot was the golden haired boy beside Hayden, and Stiles only noticed him because he was looking at Scott with a look of pure hatred.

Stiles had no memory of them ever doing anything to that boy. Or ever seeing him for that matter. But all badasses had enemies, he supposed. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that.

The walk of shame ended in Finstock's office. The principal looked exactly like Stiles remembered—pug faced, unkempt hair, crazy eyes. His office was just as disorganized. Stiles hated the place. He had spent a great amount of time in there.

"Scott, my boy!" There was someone else in the room. Gerard Argent stepped out of the shadows, moving with difficulty.

"Uncle Gerard," said Scott greeting the family friend. Argent wasn't really his uncle, but he had been very close friends with Scott's parents.

"I'm glad to see you safe. And you, too, Stiles."

Stiles nodded back, trying to hide his shock. Kate's father looked on the verge of dying. He was only about forty years old, but he looked twice that age now. Pale. Withered. Stiles wondered if he was going through one of those skin-change thingy that snakes did. He was a nix after all—a shapeshifting water spirit.

"...responsibility reckless behavior!" Finstock was saying. "Self-centeredness..." Bleh. Stiles completely spaced out until the man shouted his name again. "Are you listening to me, Stilinski?"

Stiles blinked. "Yeah, sure."

"It wasn't his fault," Scott put in. His voice and face were calm. "I wanted to go. It was my idea."

Finstock paced the office. "McCall, you could have been the one who orchestrated the entire plan for all I know, but it was still Stilinski's responsibility to make sure you didn't carry it out. If he'd done his duty, he would have notified someone. If he'd done his duty, he would've kept you safe."

"I did nothing but my duty!" Stiles snapped. "I kept him safe. For eleven months! I kept him safe when none of you could do it. I took him away to protect him. I did what I had to do—"

"Forgive me if I fail to see the logic of how taking McCall out of a heavily guarded, magically secured environment is protecting him, Stilinski!" Finstock shouted. "The only reason you left, aside from the novelty of it, was to avoid the consequences of that horrible, destructive stunt you pulled just before—"

"That's not it—"

"And that only makes my decision that much easier. McCall must continue here for his own safety, but we have no such obligations to you. You will be sent away as soon as possible."

"I... what?"

Scott straightened up. "You can't do that. He's my guardian!"

"He is no such thing, particularly since he isn't even a guardian at all. He's a novice."

"But my parents—"

"I know what they wanted, McCall, but Stilinski here is quite expendable. He doesn't deserve to be a guardian, and he will leave. God, if you were a magical being, Stilinski, you'd be a puck. Mischievous little bastards—"

Stiles stared at Finstock. "Where are you going to send me? To my Dad? You know what's gonna happen if you do that, right? He's just gonna send me right back!"

"They have a bond," Malia Tate said suddenly before Finstock could reply. All eyes fell on her but she didn't seem to care. She looked Stiles dead in the face. "You feel what he feels, don't you? You see what he sees."

Finstock glanced between Stiles and Scott. "That's not possible. That hasn't happened in—"

"I suspected as soon as I started watching them," Malia insisted.

"That is a gift," Gerard Argent said from his corner. "A rare wonderful thing."

"Only the best guardians used to have that bond," Malia said to Finstock. "You taught us that. You said that in the stories—"

"Stories are no more than that!" Finstock exclaimed. "And remember your place, Guardian Tate, you have barely left the Academy."

"Forgive me if I have given any offense. I merely meant that... he might be mentally challenged and disrespectful, but if he has the potential—"

"Mentally challenged? Disrespectful?" Stiles cut her off. "Who the hell are you anyway? You can't talk to me like that. I—"

Again, they didn't let him finish. "Guardian Tate, with the success of this rescue operation, has been granted the position you so desire, Stilinski. She is, as of now, Scott McCall's guardian. His sanctioned guardian."

"Why? What does she know? Because she got good grades, she's better than me? Please. She doesn't know anything about Scott. How is she going to protect him?"

Finstock threw his hands up in exasperation. "You undisciplined little—! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world wouldn't be enough to make me keep you here if you paid me, Stilinski! A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian."

"Then teach him," Malia said. "Get him training again."

"Impossible. He'll be hopelessly behind his peers."

"No, I won't!"

"Give him extra training sessions," Malia suggested. Stiles raised an eyebrow. He tried to control his anger. She was pushing too hard. He wondered what she could possibly have to gain with all of that.

"Who's going to put in the extra time, Guardian Tate?" Finstock demanded. "Everybody hates Stilinski. Unless..." He looked her over. "Unless you're offering...?"

Malia stumbled in her own words. "I... Well, that's not what I—"

Finstock smiled. "See? He's not worth it."

Clearly at a loss, Malia frowned. Her eyes flickered between Scott and Stiles, and the latter wondered what she was seeing. "Yes," she said finally. "I'll teach him. I'll give him extra sessions along with the normal ones."

Nobody said anything else. Everyone seemed shocked by her decision.

Then Gerard Argent suddenly spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with Guardian Tate. Sending Stiles away would be a shame, a waste of talent."

Finstock looked like he wanted to die. "If Stilinski stays, here's how it will be." The crazy eyes focused on Stiles. "Your continued enrollment is probationary. Step out of line once and you're gone. You will attend all classes and required training for novices your age. You will also train with Guardian Tate in every spare moment you have: before and after classes. Other than that, you are banned from all social activities, except meals. Listen to me, Stilinski, I don't ever want to see your face in this office again. Ever again! You were never properly punished for destroying school property. You have a lot to make up for."

Stiles exhaled. "Fine. I'll behave," he said with little intention to keep that promise.