#supernatiurals are known au

[voidstilesplease]

command me to be well

(a Beacon Hills Academy for the Supernaturals ficlet)

~•~

Supernatural creatures are known and accepted in society, and they have their branch and section in everything - the government, religion, court justice, health, food production, etc. They coexist with humans. There are still supremacist groups on both ends of the spectrum, but as a whole, supernaturals and humans share the world in equal.

In Beacon Hills Academy for the Supernaturals, mages (magic wielders) and shapeshifters (werewolves, werefoxes, were-coyotes, etc.) study and learn about themselves, strengths, and weaknesses, and adaptation in the human world. 

Stiles takes both mage and shapeshifter classes. His mother had been a fire werefox, and his grandmother a mage. The magic ability stays dormant in between generations, so Stiles received the spark that skipped his mother. Stiles's dad is the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, Homo Sapiens division. (It's not what it's called, but Stiles uses the term to annoy his father.) 

Every werefox can shift to their animal forms since birth. Their blood has no infectious components like werewolves, to turn an existing creature into one. So their kind only reproduces through procreation, but the power comes only between the ages of eighteen to twenty and never predictable. There are thirteen classifications of werefoxes: Heaven, Wind, Spirit, Fire, Earth, River, Ocean, Mountain, Forest, Thunder, Time, Sound, and Dark. And they all have to study every single one element through simulations and a weird practice called internalization. It's like the Buddhists' enlightenment when they have to "seek within themselves the core of their being" or whatever crap like that.

His mage classes are much worse. As a werefox, his reading skills are for shit, even with his human blood. His kind takes time to make sense of written symbols -it's called dyslexia in the human tongue- and so it proves to be a problem in his magic lessons.

"Stiles!" Kira, also a werefox and his non-biological sister, appears at his side after class. "Come over this afternoon and have dinner at home. Dad is making sushi."

The mention of sushi makes his mouth water, but he curls his lips downward. "I can't. I'm on my way to solitary study."

She winces sympathetically, "Yikes."

The solitary study is another word for detention in the Supernatural school. The students are put into confinement to reflect and read. It could be for an hour up to five -their offense and the amount of hate the teacher has for them decides the length of the stay. It doesn't sound bad when you hear of it the first time, but the stillness of being alone in a white room, being forced to think, drives everyone crazy. Stiles is probably the one person in the school who has seen those walls the most.

"What happened?" She asks, hoisting her backpack, forehead creasing intently.

Stiles shrugs, "In my mage class, we were practicing an incantation. I mispronounced a word because the symbols were flying all over the page," they stop walking when they reach the hallway that will separate them; Kira to the exit, and Stiles to his punishment. "All the light bulbs in the room broke simultaneously, and the shards went everywhere, mostly lodged in my classmates' and teacher's faces."

"Ouch,"

Stiles hums, curling his lips. "My incantation teacher hates me, just as much as I hate him. Every mistake I make is an excuse for him to send me to solitary. He also thinks I'm doing it on purpose. He gave me five hours today, and I'm expecting another tomorrow for the potion I fucked up earlier in another of his class."

"But that's unfair," Kira says, indignant for Stiles. "We're dyslexic. Every teacher should consider the limitations of each of us."

Stiles purses his lips but doesn't say anything. He doesn't mention to Kira that when the symbols rearrange in his mind, it's not always a gibberish mess. Sometimes, they're also perfectly readable -and quite harmful, depending on the caster's intention. He doesn't mention that more than half the time, he purposely utters curses and adds the wrong ingredients to concoctions. Stiles only does it for fun, though, to ruffle his teachers and enemies. He's a school jester; everyone knows that. He doesn't mean to cause pain to anyone -not all the time.

He's not vicious or vengeful. He swears he's not.

He's only a playful fox, curious with the less explored potentials of his power -even its violent capacity.

~•~

But it gets worse. It becomes an inclination more than a mere curiosity, especially when Stiles meets him.

In his fourth year in the Supernatural school, the management opened a program for the underaged supernaturals in the custody center. They're the young, homeless lawbreakers abandoned to the care of social workers after countless encounters with the law enforcement and their family's depletion of funds to cover the fines for damages they have caused.

The program grants them one term of attendance in the school instead of being instructed by tutors at the center, and a second one if the first term yields positive reports.

There are eight of them, and all are shapeshifters. There are three werewolves, a kanima, a wendigo, a chameleon, an electric eel (Stiles doesn't want to know how this kind came to be), and a were-coyote. All of them have criminal records, of course, but one has a count for murder - and his sister, no less. And Stiles knew him before his lock-up. They had not been friends because of Stiles's mistrust of canine shapeshifters, but he recognizes him right at first sight in years.

But while werefoxes prefer to stay away from the dogs, the latter doesn't have such urge to keep scarce, especially one among the outlaws: Theo Raeken.

He's taken one look at Stiles and decided to torment him. Witnessing Stiles do illegal magic did not help the case. Instead, it invited Theo more. Theo stalks him (as much as he can inside school grounds), stares at him, vies for his attention, pushes all the wrong but right buttons. Stiles feels repulsed by the way his blood thrums in Theo's presence. He's disgusted with himself for getting excited by his challenge. Stiles reminds himself daily that it's Theo -the one who murders their blood, and will probably have no qualms on staining their hands with someone else's. But Theo keeps provoking him, daring him to let go of caution. 

One day, Stiles does.

He unleashes himself and leaves Theo bloody, beaten-up, broken, and exhilarated, and himself satisfied for the first time. Theo stops prodding him after that. He starts tempting him: We can run. None of them listens. Their truth is the only truth. And Stiles thinks he's right.

He's almost eighteen. His fox's element should be manifesting -and it looks like it is.

~•~

"What happens if I turn out to be the wrong kind?" Stiles asks Kira one night, in the middle of video game night at her house.

Kira is focused on the screen, but she echoes Stiles. "The wrong kind?"

"A dark fox,"

That pulls Kira's attention away from the screen quicker than they can run. Her eyes are wide with alarm when she presses pause and turns to Stiles. She opens her mouth but speaks nothing for a long time. It seems she's too shocked for words. Finally, she shakes her head. "You're not."

Stiles sighs, putting down his controller. "There's one out of thirteen possibilities that I am. It's little, but it's there nonetheless."

Kira scoots closer, holding Stiles's arm, her clutch tight. "Yes, but," she stammers, "there hasn't been one in a long time."

"Of course, there isn't," Stiles agrees, looking at Kira. "They're exterminated as soon as they present to snuff out any chance of gaining power and growing a second tail."

"But you're not one," Kira says forcefully, eyes suspiciously moist.

Stiles replies softly, "I enjoy causing mayhem."

She shakes her head hard, "We all like trouble, Stiles. That's sort of what we are,"

Stiles can't look at her eyes when he admits his truth, so he turns away. "I inflict pain," Kira freezes in her touch. "and like it. The sight of blood makes me sick but with pleasure. I-" he pauses, wipes the sweat that gathered in his nose. He swallows. "I want to get into someone's head and twist their mind. I have done it, and I want to do it again."

Kira draws uneven breaths beside him. Her scent has turned sweet with fear -and though it makes his stomach twist, Stiles inhales it, savors it.

Kira's voice quivers, "If you learn to suppress it-"

"If it can be suppressed and controlled, there would've been no vulpine law authorizing the killing of a nogitsune."

Kira bows her head in defeat, sniffing.

"My magic," his whispering voice is loud in her room, reverberating in its four walls. He's been coming here since he was a child. Who knows when and if he can have the chance again. "It knows what I might be. It flows in my veins with my blood, rushing when I'm doing what I shouldn't be."

They're silent for a long moment; Stiles refuses to meet Kira's eyes, and Kira strives to calm her racing heart. She doesn't recoil from her touch, even when she was afraid. Now that the fear has subsided, she moves to kneel in front of him and takes his face between her small hands, prompting him to face her. When he raises his head, Kira's eyes are glowing, fiery around the black. Stiles flashes his in response.

"If you are," Kira says, tone final and sure. "I'm with you. You're my brother, and I love you."

Stiles knows she will stand by her words, but he doesn't wish her to. Kira has a whole life ahead of her that she can't spend hiding a nogitsune or running with one.

Because Stiles will run, damn if he won't. He's not going down, and he won't let them catch him. 

He leans his head against her hand, kissing the soft palm of it. He rubs his nose on the residual unease still clinging underneath her skin. "I love you, too."

And then he will come back invincible.

~•~