A/N

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading! This is the last chapter. Thank you all who have read, reviewed, or even just glanced at this story, from everyone from the beginning to those just discovering it now. I had no idea when I wrote this as a prequel that it would get this long or be this awesome. Thanks to everyone keeping up with all of my other stories. It really means a lot! For those of you asking about my username, "Gold on the Ceiling" is a song by the best band ever, the Black Keys. I mention them, and the song title, a few times in my stories just for fun. 42 is... well, why give away everything? So, if everyone else is just as sad as me that this story is ending, check out it's sequel, 'The Ultimate Battle of Wits,', after season 4 of TW and during season six of TVD, already in progress! A little note, this chapter ends right before Teen Wolf season 3 episode 1, like minutes before, so the story can theoretically be picked up there from canon. "Blood on my Name," my first story/ this one's sequel, takes place after that between 3a and 3b, and then onwards! Thank you guys so much for the reviews and support, these fandoms are the nicest ever. So, as always, review, check out my other stories (and be on the lookout for new ones,) and enjoy!

Ch. 17

Epilogue: Tattoo

He made it in the nick of time.

Stiles jumped through the open window and dove into the sheets just as Meredith Fell was running through a rather long preamble as she opened the door for Sam and Dean. She turned over to look at his bed, and once she saw him, relief flooded their eyes. Some part of Stiles wondered if she had doubted he would return from the vampire den.

"Stiles!" Dean exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"Yep!" Stiles said languidly, sipping a nearby cup of water with a straw, like that had been all he had been doing for the last six hours.

"Excellent!" Dean said. "So we can hit the road!" He turned to Meredith. "Doc, would you mind signing us out?"

"Of course!" Meredith said with a knowing smile. "Let me just do one last check on Stiles' vitals."

"Of course." Sam said. He and Dean left the room, and Meredith walked over to Stiles' bed. She checked his blood pressure and everything else rather quickly, and began packing up her equipment.

"How was it, Stiles?" Meredith asked.

"Fine." Stiles replied. "Great, actually. Caroline is... struggling, but she'll be okay. They all will."

Meredith gave him a wary glance, as if she wasn't sure whether to believe everything could have gone that well, but she bowed her head in acceptance as she changed Stiles' bandages. "Good, I'm glad."

Stiles steeled himself before asking his next question. "You'll... look after them, won't you? Medically, I mean? Because something named Klaus is coming to town and I'm not going to be there to stop it-"

Stiles was cut off by Meredith's stern but kind glare. "Yes, Stiles, I will. I don't get my vampire blood just by sitting around." She smiled kindly, even though they both knew she was completely serious.

Stiles chuckled, relieved. "Here's a tip, stay away from Damon. Something tells me he wouldn't take kindly to being blood jacked."

Meredith raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Noted."

Finished removing the bandages and packing up her equipment, Meredith clapped her hands together with satisfaction. "Alright, get your stuff together. Your brothers will be by the reception desk." Stiles got his things and the two made their way out of the room and down the fluorescently lit hall. They were almost at the desk when Meredith turned towards him.
"Stiles, it was great meeting you. I wish you luck."

"Likewise." Stiles said.

"So you will understand when I say I hope I never have to see you again?"

Stiles laughed. "Yeah, I understand."

Meredith didn't say anymore. She merely waved goodbye with a smile as Stiles was soon surrounded by the suffocating presence of his brothers. As she turned and walked back down the sterile hallway they had come from, Stiles wondered if maybe Mystic Falls wasn't in good hands after all.

Stiles didn't look back as the Winchesters drove out of Mystic Falls. He sat in the backseat of the Impala, his jeep being driven back to Beacon Hills by a transportation service. It made Stiles uncomfortable, having his jeep in some stranger's hands, but Dean pointed out that it was best they all drove back together, for 'debriefing' as Sam called it.

Well, that couldn't be good.

As it was, Stiles missed all of the furtive glances Sam and Dean shared, towards Stiles, towards each other, and towards a mysterious location they alluded to on their map. If he had noticed, he wouldn't have agreed to drive with them.

Nevertheless, Stiles didn't look back as he left Mystic Falls. He didn't think he needed to.

I'll be back.

It wasn't a promise, it was a certainty. Because whether it would be Klaus, or who knows what else, Mystic Falls was now on the map for supernatural activity just as much as Beacon Hills. Stiles would be back. Someday, sooner or later, they would need him. Even with Alaric, Stefan and Meredith, Mystic Falls would need defending and Stiles would make sure to be there. He would come back to his new friends, to the land of the vampires. The supernatural has a way of clinging to something and never letting go. So no, Stiles did not look back as he left. He didn't need to.

They were 200 miles from Beacon Hills before Stiles noticed something wrong. The first day, Sam and Dean had questioned him on everything they missed, from moving in to Caroline's house to high school to getting interrogated by Damon Salvatore to getting captured by Katherine.

"She strung you up like a piece of meat?" Dean asked. When Stiles nodded in confirmation he whistled. "That bitch."

"And how can you remember this?" Sam asked, very intrigued by compulsion. "I thought she compelled you to forget when she programmed you to fight anyone who asked about her."

"She did." Stiles confirmed, wincing at the memory of attacking Stefan. "But she also built in an undo, that also caused me to temporarily pass out during the fight."

"The word 'stellar.'" Dean confirmed.

Stiles nodded. "Exactly."

Sam scrunched his brow in confusion. "Our drop-everything word? Why?" He was just glad it had been changed from 'funky town.'

"Katherine knew I was going to tip Dean off." Stiles said ruefully. "It was her idea of a joke."

"Whatever. Ding-dong, the bitch is dead. Nice job, Stiles." Dean said appreciatively.

The second day, Stiles had started texting Matt, Tyler, Bonnie, Caroline, and even Stefan about what he was missing. So far, nothing yet, and the five had agreed to keep him updated on a regular basis. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean had been arguing about the case they had been on with Rufus.

"Well dammit, Sam, how was I supposed to know dudes could be mermaids, too?"

Sam paled as he recalled one very horrible and humiliating moment on their case. "I don't know, Dean, it's just common sense!"

Dean sighed. "Whatever. Rufus owes us one now. Especially after the whole mess with the tuna..."

Sam went from very pale to very, very red.

The third and last day of the trip, Stiles began to notice his brothers' strange behaviors. The furtive looks, the whispering, and Stiles got the feeling that it was about him. Growing more worried by the hour, it wasn't until they were 200 miles from Beacon Hills that he began to think something was wrong.

"Guys?" he asked Sam and Dean from the back seat. "Everything okay?"

Sam and Dean swiveled around simultaneously to face him, and it was eerie. Stiles would never get used to that. "Everything's fine, Stiles." Dean reassured before switching his attention back to driving. "I just think baby might have a flat tire. We're going to need to pull over to a shop to get her fixed up."

"Okay." Stiles said, and the explanation kept him satisfied for the few minutes it took Dean to get off of the highway. But the more time passed, the more he saw holes in the logic. First of all, it will be a cold day in hell before Dean Winchester lets a mere mechanic touch his baby. Second of all, since when did Sam care about the functions of the Impala? And third of all, the more Stiles realized, they had been acting secretive for days. Surely changing a flat tire didn't take that much time to debate. Stiles was so convinced that something else was wrong, that when the car finally stopped, he wasn't surprised to find that they weren't at a mechanic shop.

Instead, he was horrified.

A tattoo parlor. Sam and Dean had taken him to a tattoo parlor.

What. The actual. Hell.

"Dean?" Stiles asked, fear creeping into his voice, praying he was wrong. "I think you made a wrong turn."

"Get out of the car, Stiles." Dean said, taking every ounce of self control to not burst into laughter and remain serious.

"Why?" Stiles asked. "Why should I?" He looked to Sam for support, but that proved to be a mistake. The traitor in question turned around to face him, full puppy dog mode.

"Because," Sam said, "You just finished your first solo hunt, and you're heading back to a supernatural magnet. We figured an initiation of sorts is in order."

"What?" Stiles asked. "What could it possibly be that would bring us here?" But deep down he already knew.

"An anti-possession tattoo!" Dean said matter-of-factly. "Right over the chest."

Stiles nearly passed out right then and there at the thought of that many needles close to his heart. He gulped. "Does my dad know about this?"

Sam chuckled. "It was his idea."

That was it for Stiles. Even though he knew he was acting childish, he crossed his arms and stayed firmly put. "Nu-uh, no way. I don't care if it's for my own good. You'll have to drag me in there."

Dean sighed. "So be it."

They dragged Stiles into the (thankfully empty) tattoo parlor kicking and screaming, Dean laughing the whole way, Sam much less so, but that might have been because Stiles kicked him in the face. Once they had gotten him settled (strapped) into a chair, and he had stopped making quite so much of a fuss, the only employee, a curvy woman with dyed russet hair pulled into a ponytail and heavily tattooed arms, approached them cautiously.

"What can I do for you fellas?" she asked in a surprisingly pixie-like voice.

"Could you do this symbol in black over his heart?" Dean asked, handing the woman a sketch of the anti-possession symbol.

The woman took the paper and analyzed it for a few seconds. If she found the symbol odd, she didn't say, or perhaps she simply didn't care enough to ask. "Sure, I can do that." she said. "Just let me take a few minutes to get set up."

For five agonizing minutes, Stiles waited for the woman to set up. Sam awkwardly popped Stiles' shirt open a few buttons, undeterred by Stiles' death glare, or the way his fingers clenched as he wished he could force-choke his brother like Darth Vader.

Finally, she was ready, and, sitting on Stiles' left side, brandished a very, very long needle over Stiles' chest. Dean stood over Stiles, hands pressing into the boy's shoulders, locking him in place. Sam was on Stiles' right, holding his right arm, while Stiles' left arm and leg were tied to the chair.

"He doesn't like needles." Dean had explained with a what can you do? grin when he had explained the strange request to the tattoo lady, Adrianne, her name tag read. "He'll get over it." He offered a sheepish smile.

Time passed slowly for Stiles, from the moment the needle first entered his skin to the moment it ended. He screamed, he cried, Sam and Dean looked at him with sympathy and he glared back. By the time it was all over, he was seething.

Adrianne withdrew the needle and looked satisfied with her work. The tattoo was small, about half the size of the palm of Stiles' hand. It was low enough that it couldn't be seen while wearing a regular shirt. Stiles held his hand up to it, hovering over it.

"C-can I touch it?" he asked.

Adrianne nodded. "Sure. The skin might be a little sensitive, though. Let me get you a band-aid while it heals." She got up and went to a back room. Sam and Dean undid the straps around his legs and arm while Stiles gingerly poked his tattoo. He winced, the skin was a little sensitive, but it was nothing compared to the agony he had just endured. Even though Stiles was mad at his brothers for their conspiracy, he couldn't help but feel a little swell of pride when he saw the anti-possession symbol. It made him feel like a real hunter.

Hopefully he would never need it.

Dean seemed to be thinking along the same line as Stiles. "We don't expect Beacon Hills to be under any demon attacks," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly in a gesture Stiles recognized as his own, "nor do we expect anyone to possess you, but this helps us sleep at night."

"You're a real hunter, now." Sam said with a small laugh. Warmth filled through Stiles at the sound of it. He felt accepted (or it might have just been the adrenaline.) and would have probably pulled his brothers into a huge bear hug had Adrianne not come back in with a band-aid. She fixed Stiles up, Sam paid (in cash), and the three Winchesters made their way down the road.

"You know I'm never going to forgive you guys for this." Stiles said as he leaned forward onto the front seat, his head in between his brothers'.

Sam laughed. "Maybe not. But we'll make it up to you, I promise. Want to hear about our next case?"

Stiles nodded vigorously.

Sam smiled. "Alright so get this. There's this house in Sacramento, abandoned, and every time a cat walks by..."

Stiles listened intently, collapsing back into the backseat of the Impala, the place where his new tattoo was throbbing uncomfortably. He didn't mind, though. Dean was right, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Stiles!" Dean said, shaking him awake by his shoulder. "Wake up."

"Aaaa!" Stiles exclaimed, snapping upright with a panicked expression, waving his hands (in a poorly executed knife-hand block) threateningly.

"We're here." Dean said, covering his mouth to prevent laughing at his brother's antics. Stiles hastily checked his behavior then looked outside. Sure enough, the sun had just set, and the Impala was parked outside of his house. Sam was carrying his suitcase through the door. Once he came out, he walked over to where Stiles had just climbed out of the car.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." Stiles said mournfully. He pulled his brothers into a hug, and with some chuckles they pat Stiles' back comfortingly.

"We'll see you soon, Stiles." Dean said. He looked around himself suspiciously. "Something will come up."

"God, I hope not. Stiles said with a weak laugh. "I'm not sure how much more this town can take."

Sam smiled tightly. "All the same, Stiles, we're only a phone call away."

Stiles laughed. "Sam, nothing is going to happen. We've already had werewolves and a kanima! What else could possibly go wrong?"

He would later regret saying that.

"Alright, well, you'll call us on Sunday like usual?" Dean said.

"Yes, Dean." Stiles said exasperatedly. "Now go. Have fun in Sacramento!"

"Alright, alright we're leaving!" Dean said, shooting one last grin at his baby brother. He and Sam climbed into the car and drove away.

"Hey Sam, why do you suppose Stiles is always in a rush for us to leave?" Dean asked once they were a couple miles away from Beacon Hills.

Sam shrugged. "He's probably worried about his friends finding out. I mean, werewolves are crazy territorial. They probably keep an eye on his place."

Dean shuddered. "That's creepy."

Sam sighed. "Well it's not like we're any better, Dean. We put a tracker in his phone."

"Yeah, but he knows about that."

"And he probably knows about them, too." Sam said. "Hence why he's so eager to ditch us. You see where I'm going with this?"

"Alright, alright!" Dean snapped. "You know, this has gone on long enough. It was one thing when Stiles' friends weren't involved in the supernatural, but now they are. I say the next time we roll into town, we make him tell them."

"We'll see." Sam said.

"I don't understand it. I mean, the kid had no trouble ditching his Mystic Falls buddies without a peep!"

Sam laughed, but stopped when Dean threw him an agitated look. "Um... Dean, you do know Stiles sneaked out of the hospital room, right?"

Sam regretted saying that instantly. Dean had a look of death himself on his face.

"He WHAT?"

"Hey, dad!" Stiles said once he re-entered his house. His dad was sitting in the kitchen, reading the newspaper. Stiles sniffed the air suspiciously. "Dad, please don't tell me you had cheeseburgers while I was gone."

Sheriff Stilinski looked up from his paper, eyeing his son shrewdly. "Okay, I won't tell you."

Stiles groaned. "Dad!"

John Stilinski put the paper down, stood up, and walked over to his son. "How was the hunt, son?" Stiles recognized the immediate change in topic but went with it anyway.

Caroline's broken neck, Katherine's lifeless body..."It was good."

"How was the new school? Did you make any friends?" John asked.

Caroline and Damon in the center of the ruins while everyone looks accusingly at Stiles. "I didn't poison anyone!" he snapped.

But that wasn't entirely true.

"Yeah, I made some friends." he said. "I'll keep in touch with them." As he said this, his phone rang shrilly. With a quick apology to his dad, he ran upstairs to take it.

It was Bonnie.

"Hello!" he said.

"Stiles! Hey! I've missed you already!" she said excitedly.

"Hey, Bonnie, what's up?" he asked, thrilled to hear from her so soon.

"I just wanted to let you know," she said, "that you may have some trouble. Damon's going to kill you for putting vervain in his liquor cabinet."

Stiles laughed. "Tell him to get a drink of water."

Bonnie laughed and started talking to someone in the background. From the shouting, Stiles gathered it was Damon. Bonnie relayed Stiles' message, there was a pause, sputtering, and then even more shouting and laughter.

"You poisoned the boarding house's water supply, too?" Bonnie asked Stiles, impressed.

Stiles smiled. "You bet I did. I'll talk to you later, Bonnie. I have another call to make." Bonnie and him said their goodbyes and hung up.

Stiles sighed before dialing Scott.

"Scotty!" he said, once the werewolf had picked up. "I have returned!"

"Stiles!" Scott said, overjoyed, like a dog whose owner had come home. "How was Virginia?"

Stiles sat with all of his new friends at the grill for hours, laughing. "It was fantastic, Scott."

"Good, I'm glad."

"Yeah." Stiles said. "What'd I miss?"

"Oh not much." Scott began. "Lydia's been doodling like crazy since Jackson left, these weird trees. Erica and Boyd are still AWOL, Derek's been acting weird, he just repainted his door..." Stiles tuned Scott out as he rambled, thinking of Mystic Falls. Was Bonnie practicing witchcraft? Did Tyler find Mason? Were Caroline, Matt, Vicki and Jeremy okay? Did Elena get back together with Stefan? (ok, he knew the answer to that...) A change in Scott's tone of voice brought Stiles back to reality.

"Hey, listen, I know you just got back, but I've got to ask you a favor. Do you have your jeep?"

Stiles peered out his window, and sure enough, the jeep was parked in the driveway. "Yeah, I do."

"Excellent!" Scott said. "There's something I want to do. As a way of rewarding myself for not calling or texting Allison all summer."

"What is it, Scott?" Stiles asked, foreboding creeping up on him.

"I want you to help me get a tattoo."

Stiles fell down in surprise, the afternoon's events rushing in on him like a nightmare, the part of his chest where his tattoo was burned uncontrollably. Slowly, he climbed back up to a sitting position and grasped blindly for the phone. He found it, and clumsily brought it to his ear.

"You have got to be kidding me."