a/n: hi, everyone! here i am again, this time with a sterek casper au! :D

the fic was already posted on its entirety on my ao3 account (wearing_tearing), and i'll be posting a chapter a day here until the story is complete.

thanks to whatthehale for looking it over and to everyone on tumblr who was excited about this au five months ago when it was supposed to be posted! oh, and i promise a happy ending ~

/

Chapter One

"Good to know this house is just as creepy as I remember it. Maybe even creepier."

"Stiles."

"What? It is," Stiles shrugged. "I mean, look at it. Big ol' scary mansion in the middle of the woods and away from civilization? The horror movie practically writes itself."

"It's not that bad," his dad said unconvincingly, staring down the pebbled path that leads to the house.

To say the place was huge was an understatement. The mansion was three stories high, looking impossibly big and intimidating with the forest in its background. There were high glass windows along the length of it, the paint on the window frames yellow and chipped. The bricks that made the house were scuffed and cracking, which made it look like it could all come falling down on their heads at any moment. Stiles didn't even try and look up at the roof, afraid he'd see holes in it.

"Why did we even rent it again?"

"It's big and the rent was cheap."

"Nice," Stiles snorted.

"Don't start," his dad said without any heat. "And if I remember correctly, this was the only house we saw that you didn't hate on sight."

"In my defense, I was too scared something would jump out from one of the rooms and try to kill us to feel much of anything else."

"Good thing you're going to be living with the newly appointed town Sheriff, then."

That was the entire reason they were even here, really. His father was offered a promotion after the former Beacon Hills Sheriff chose to retire, which meant Stiles and his dad had to move away during the start of Stiles's senior year when he accepted the job.

Stiles had to admit he was a bit sad about it, having to leave all of his friends behind and move to a strange place right during his senior year. He just hoped the town was as nice as his dad said it was, and that the people weren't set on their small town ways and wary of strangers. Heaven knows he wouldn't survive the year without any human interacting besides his dad. He loved the old man, but really. He needed to be around people his own age.

"So you'll protect me from any monsters hiding in our new and creepy house?" Stiles grinned at his dad.

"I think I should be protecting them from you," his dad answered dryly, shaking his head at him.

"The love, dad," Stiles sniffed. "I'm really feeling it."

"How about you feel it by helping me bring our things to the house?"

"As long as you walk in front of me and make sure the coast is clear," Stiles said, giving him a thumbs up.

Stiles heard his dad mumble something under his breath that sounded a lot like a request for strength, but he still walked ahead of Stiles to the house after they grabbed as much as they could from the car.

"You ready?" his dad asked as they got to the front door, grabbing the house keys from his pocket.

"Before my arms fall off, please," Stiles grumbled, shifting his hold on one of the duffles he was carrying so he wouldn't topple over.

His dad unlocked the door, lips tipped down at the way it squeaked loudly. "I'll have to take a look at that."

"House this old? I think you'll have to take a look at lots of things, dad," Stiles piped up, only for his mouth to snap shut at the glare his dad sent in his direction.

"Come on, we don't have all day."

"Right behind you, pops."

The room Stiles chose for himself was empty of any spiders and cobwebs and other gross things — unlike some parts of the house, one which actually had a spider the size of Stiles's fist chilling on the wall —, and it actually looked pretty cool. It was a little bigger than the other rooms he'd seen so far, bright with tall windows and the walls painted a light blue. The closet was spacious enough for all of Stiles's clothes and more, and on his walk-around Stiles saw that one of the windows lead to a balcony outside, just big enough for a couple of chairs.

Stiles grinned.

"Dad!" Stiles yelled and dropped his things on the floor. "I found it!"

Stiles heard his dad's heavy footsteps as he climbed up the stairs, and not a minute later he was by the door.

"Looks good, kid," the Sheriff said as he studied the room, looking pleased. "The movers should be here soon to help us bring the furniture in."

"Cool," Stiles said, suddenly excited. You know, until he remembered. "Oh, by the way, there's a huge spider in one of the rooms. You'll need to kill it."

"Me?" his dad raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, yeah," Stiles blinked. "What if I get close enough and it decides I look tasty?"

His dad shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "You're too scrawny to make a good meal."

"Hey," Stiles protested. "I'd make an awesome meal. I bet I taste delicious."

"Then why don't you go kill that spider yourself and find out?"

Stiles clutched at his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, dad."

His dad grinned at him, reaching a hand to grab at the back of Stiles's neck. "Come on, help me take the rest of our stuff out of the car."

Stiles sighed, already dreading the sore muscles he'd have tomorrow. "Yes, sir."

Unpacking was as tiring and as boring as Stiles thought it would be, and he and his dad decided to pack it in for the night when the sound of their stomachs grumbling became too loud to be ignored. They didn't have time to go grocery shopping before moving in, which meant their fridge was empty. Aside from a few granola bars Stiles had hidden in the bottom of his backpack, there was no food in the house whatsoever.

Stiles tried looking up in his phone the number of a few places from town that delivered, but everyone he called made clear their services didn't extend to this far out in the woods.

"What did I say?" Stiles gave his dad a long look. "Everyone in town knows how creepy this place looks. That's why no one wanted to come out here to give us food."

"Let's just find a diner," his dad replied. "It'd be good for you to drive around a little, get to know the town a little better."

"So that way I won't starve because no one wants to come anywhere near our place?"

"Keep talking like that and I'll go out alone."

They ended up in a small diner downtown, the place was buzzing with people, the sounds of conversation and the clanking of dishes loud in the air. Stiles couldn't help but take a deep breath as soon as he pushed the door open, the smell of hamburger grease and fries filling his nose.

"Heaven, I've finally found you," Stiles groaned, mouth watering.

"Really, Stiles?" his dad said, bemused.

Stiles just nodded and went in search of a table for them to sit, not wanting to waste any more time. He needed to eat something, and he needed to eat it now.

He was so hungry and tired from the moving he didn't even complain when his dad order a bacon burger and fries for himself. He waved him off when his dad gave him a distrustful look.

"After all the hauling boxes around we did today, you deserve it."

"Thanks, son," his dad said with a smile, and then shrugged. "Not that you'd be able to stop me from eating my bacon, anyway."

Stiles flopped face down on his bed when he got home that night, after saying goodnight to his dad, inhaling the smell of the cool crisp on his bed and the comforting scent of his pillow. He glanced at the picture of his mom gracing his nightstand, reaching out a hand to trace his fingers over the frame.

"I hope I like it here. Night, mom."

It was only a few seconds after that that Stiles fell asleep, too tired from the day's activities. So tired, even, he didn't even notice the shadow lurking in one of the far corners of his room.

"You didn't break anything, did you?"

Stiles made a face, sitting up on his bed and leaning against the headboard. "No, but I will if I don't find something to do soon."

The downside of not knowing anyone in town is that Stiles didn't have anyone to spend his time with. He knew that'd change once he started school, but he'd probably go out of his mind with boredom until that happened.

Which was one of the reasons why he was calling his dad at work in the middle of the day.

His dad was silent for a few beats before saying, "I found a few books while I was tidying up the office. I figured the family who used to live here left some of their things behind. Maybe you could take a tour of the house and see if you find anything interesting."

Stiles perked up, because if there was one thing he liked more than curly fries was books. And messing around other people's things. "Really?"

"Yes," his dad answered. "And while you're at it, make a list of things that need fixing if you came across anything. But do not attempt to fix them yourself"

"Like I would ever," Stiles gasped.

He heard his dad sigh, and he could practically see the exasperated look on his face.

"Good luck," his dad said. "Call me if you need anything."

Stiles didn't find anything.

Well, aside from about twenty-three things in the house that needed repairs and the books his dad had mentioned before. And, for some reason, a leather jacket and basketball hidden away in his closet he didn't notice were there before. He left the ball on top of his dresser, the jacket draped over the back of his computer chair. He figured he could decide what to do with them later, and the jacket even looked kind of cool, if not a little used and smelling like it'd been put away for ten years.

"I take it from your face you didn't find anything interesting," his dad said when he got home that night for dinner, sitting on the couch by Stiles's side, a faint smirk on his lips.

"I made a list of all the things that need fixing. It's on the fridge."

Stiles handed a plate to him, smiling to himself when his dad didn't even try turning his nose up at all the veggies in it. But his dad did insist on being the one to pick what they were going to watch. He settled for old reruns of The X-Files, something Stiles definitely wasn't going to complain about.

"I'll take a look at it when I can," his dad nodded. "Thanks, kid."

"You can repay me by taking me with you to the station tomorrow," Stiles said, trying to look innocent as he scooped up some rice with his fork and ate it.

"You're that bored?"

Stiles shrugged. He was that bored, and spending time in his dad's place was work was always fun for him.

"I'll see what I can do."

They spent the rest of the evening like that, watching old tv shows and the Sheriff answering Stiles's questions about the station and his new deputies.

And Stiles didn't notice when he went back to his room that the leather jacket and basketball were not where he left them, but hidden away in his closet instead.

It wasn't until laundry day three days later that Stiles thought about it.

He was loading his clothes into the washer when it came to mind he could give the leather jacket a clean up while he was at it. He knew it was in good state, if in need of a revival, and all he'd need to do was ask Google a couple of quicks questions on how to best go about it and he'd be set.

He went in search for it, only not to find either the jacket or the basketball ball where he left it. I wasn't draped over the back of his chair like he remembered it, nor was it between the pile of folded laundry he already had on top of his bed. He knew his dad also didn't move it, because he stopped going into Stiles's room since the he accidentally came in without knocking and caught Stiles in a compromising position. With himself.

Stiles couldn't say he blamed his dad.

He bit at his bottom lip and decided to look through his room one more time before tackling the rest of the house. He knew the jacket had to be there somewhere, he just needed to find it.

He went through his drawers, dresser, kneeled down to look under his bed. He even checked his bathroom and the little balcony outside, and moved the furniture to check the jacket wasn't behind anything. It wasn't.

"Did I really put it away in the closet again?" Stiles frowned at himself.

He couldn't remember doing so, no matter how much he thought about it. It still didn't hurt to look, not after exhausting all other possibilities.

Which was why he did a little victory dance when he saw the leather jacket hanging neatly in his closet.

Stiles grabbed the jacket, smiled, and said, "Gotcha!"

And then went still when he heard someone behind him growl, "Let go of that."

After practically being raised watching Buffy, The X-Files, and Ghostbusters, Stiles liked to think his reaction to seeing a shimmery shadow resembling a seventeen year old boy floating ten inches above ground and glaring fiercely at him wouldn't be to let out a high pitch scream, try to karate chop him, and then, when that obviously didn't work, throw a basketball at him.

A basketball that just went right through the boy's stomach.

Which only made him glare harder at Stiles.

"Really?" the boy said, voice dripping sarcasm.

Stiles made a choked up noise and flattened himself against the wall, blinking repeatedly, trying to come to terms with what his eyes were showing him. Not that he managed, really.

Because as soon as his eyes focused on the boy again? Well, that was when everything went a bit hazy around the edges and Stiles passed out.