Chapter 1: A Feeling of Trouble

ExcaliburStuckInMyStoneHeart

Summary:

Grimm X Teen Wolf crossover.

Stiles' Dad ships him over to Portland because Stiles has been lying to him and he keeps getting into unwanted police trouble. So Stiles' father signed him up for a police internship. However the trouble magnet encountered trouble on his first day, unsurprisingly. Were-lizards are a thing?

No, what Stiles doesn't realize is his family has a curse. He's a Grimm, but he doesn't know.

Chapter Text

Stiles' POV:

Fuck, fuck, fuck! This was not how today was supposed to go.

I just wanted a vacation! I just wanted to enjoy a little time away from the craziness that is Beacon Hills. I mean, one summer, only one summer in peace, was all I ever wanted. Even if I was initially forced out of the house and onto a plane to go to a "training program," I still expected some leisure.

Well, no, I expected a lot of bullshit from this stupid police internship, considering I could've just interned for my father.

But noooooooo; 'Stiles, you must go intern in Portland. You must get away from all this trouble. Or tell me the truth about what you're getting up to in Beacon Hills,' I imagine my father saying in a gruff Batman voice.

Yeah, like that's ever going to happen.

But I thought, Portland, no way it could be as bad as Beacon Hills.

But holy crap, did I miscalculate that shit? I think it may just be worse. Way Worse.

And what the hell is a Grimm anyway?

Okay, so let's go back a few weeks...

My father, who was sick of me lying to him about all the werewolf nonsense, decided to ship me off to Portland. Now I don't know anyone in Portland; I have no relations with anyone there, so I asked my dad, why Portland, of all places? I mean, he could've sent me to New York or, like, I don't let me stay home.

But he had apparently thought this through.

Without my knowledge, my good old pops signed me up for a police officer training internship.

Now I would be fine if he had told me ahead of time. More so if it was close to home, if it couldn't have been at home.

But nooooo, no, dear old dad had put the location for anywhere in America. So there I was, shipped off to Portland minutes after I was told my fate for the summer.

Like, literally, shipped off, my dad had packed a suitcase for me and drove me to the airport before he even hinted at what was happening. I was just handed a ticket and a carry-on and pushed on the line.

I tried to walk back out of the airport, but my dad watched me the whole way until I disappeared into the mess that was the TSA.

Realistically he could've saved himself the trouble of all this planning and effort if he had told me ahead of time or something of that nature. But in retrospect, if he did, I may have run away from home and hidden somewhere. I get this helps my future and career and gives me good experience, and I could even enjoy this experience.

But how will my friends survive without me? I am literally the brains of every operation. I mean, could Scott even survive without me?

I mean my dad, with all his amazing planning and secrecy, seemed to have forgotten some rather important things, like my cell phone. MY CELL PHONE! I immediately bought a disposable one at the airport shopping center but still, of all the things not to pack, my cell phone, really? Talk about caring about my well-being...by sending me off to an unknown city racked with crime everywhere without a cell phone....thanks, dad.

When I eventually ended up calling my dad from an unknown number and telling him about my woes, he realized his blunder. But I was already on the plane, and it was too late by then.

On the plane, I grabbed one of those in-flight meals that were about as good as school cafeteria food and stared out the window watching Beacon Hills disappear into the clouds. As I stared outside, looking at the endless white clouds, I sighed as I thought about my predicament. This could be a good thing.... kind of...maybe? Getting away from Beacon Hills could be good.

Technically I almost die every other day, so this could be a reprieve from that.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. And it must be something bad in Beacon Hills because what could happen in Portland, Oregon?

Nothing could be as bad as Beacon Hills.

Yet the moment the plane left the area of Beacon County, that bad yet strange gut feeling grew and grew.

But nothing bad had happened yet, so maybe I imagined it.

It was a pretty short flight, to be honest.

I knew it wasn't going to be a far trip, probably one I could've driven to if I had a nicely functioning car and my dad's utmost trust, but since I had neither, I was forced to sit on a place for 3 hours and 30 minutes. But it wasn't a big deal. I had flown on planes often when I was young, I remember going to Disney World in Florida, which was a 7-hour flight, so this one wasn't bad.

Once I got off, it was pretty boring...well, kind of. Once I stepped off the plane, it was the usual fanfare with ensuring I had everything, getting some extra necessities from the airline shops, and whatnot. I also found a handwritten letter from my dad in the bag he packed which left instructions on what to do after getting off the plane.

Basically, it was instructions to the hotel I was supposed to stay at during my residency here for the internship. And there were even directions from the hotel to the police station. I googled it out of curiosity, and it was on a much larger scale than a small-town sheriff's station. This place was huge and fancy looking.

Well, as fancy as a police precinct could get, I guess. Since I was here already and I couldn't leave anymore, I was getting excited.

I mean, Portland is a new place, new crime; well, same old crime really, but a new set of suspects and new clean eyes as we didn't have any detectives in Beacon Hills. I mean, there were cops, but there is a difference between a big-city detective and a small-town deputy and officer. Also, there must be supernatural cases, most likely cold cases, but those would be fun to study and solve with my knowledge. With my terrible luck, I'd probably be an errand boy and an office worker for the time I'm there, but I'll cross my fingers for something cool and interesting.

Maybe my dad put in a good word or something.

Well, either way, even if I get stuck doing desk work, I could just hack in and spy on the real stuff from the sidelines or something. As long as I'm not bored during this trip, I'd count it as good enough.

Anyway, after leaving the airport, I signaled for a cab and gave it the name of the hotel from the instructions. Luckily it was a well-known place because the cab guy knew exactly where it was before I even finished reading the paper.

When I got out of the cab, I thought he had taken me to the wrong place. I even ducked my head back into the window after I paid and re-asked the guy if he dropped me off at the right place because what internship sponsors you in this kind of lodging?

This place was swanky and elegant, totally not a small-town kid vibe. Nor a small town sheriff budget sorta place.

I even called my dad again.

"Dad?"

"Stiles? What's up? You landed by now, yeah?"

"Uh yeah, I am in front of the hotel...uh, did you write down the wrong address?" I asked while dumbly staring up at the tall building.

"No? I wrote the right place. Why is it a bad place? You think you need to stay somewhere else?" My dad said over the phone.

"Uh, no, it's so fancy; you sure a police internship sponsored this?" I asked.

"Whatttt? Of course, do you really think I have the money for a fancy hotel?" My dad said quickly and in a weird voice before coughing into a laugh and continuing, "Haha, eh, anyway, if it's nice, enjoy it. Have a good time there, Stiles. Relax and do some easy and peaceful police work, alright? Don't get into trouble like you seem to do here. Okay?" My dad said, nagging already.

"Yeah, okay, dad. I guess I'll check in now; talk later." I said, hanging up and walking into the hotel.

I signed some simple paperwork and was handed a heavy metal key card that led to a rather simple one-bed hotel room. The room was small and had a small bed. There was a small kitchen if you could even call it that, with a mini fridge and a hot plate to cook small things on like ramen, and there was an old coffee maker and a microwave. That's what I called a kitchen, but it really, really wasn't. But better than nothing.

The bathroom was the most modern-looking thing in the room as it was tiled, and everything looked brand new. It matched the reception downstairs the most. But the bed was soft, the table was sturdy, and the air conditioner worked, so all in all, it was a nice hotel room.

Plus, my dad said I could get room service if I was really hungry and couldn't go out, like if it was raining or I was dead tired, so that was cool too. But if not, he gave me enough cash for food and souvenirs if I didn't spend money like a crazy person.

But after exploring the room and looking in all the nooks and crannies, I decided not to spend the rest of the day in the room and decided to go explore Portland to see what city life had to offer. I left most of the money stuffed in a book and stuffed it in my bag, which I hung up in the closet.

I took about $10, my new phone, and a hoodie outside with me on my adventure.

I still had this weird feeling that something bad was going to happen, so I left my cash safely tucked away and walked around in populated places.

Nothing happened.

I mean, maybe I was just on edge.

In Beacon Hills, you have to be on edge, or you could be the next dead body to be found chopped in half in the woods. So I think I was probably just projecting that nervousness here. I mean, it's not like this place could be as bad as Beacon Hills.

Our town is fucked up, with all the supernatural creatures overrunning the town. This place didn't seem like it was anything like that. I mean, could you get away with animal attacks in a city like this? I mean, there was lots of wilderness here, but it's not like Beacon Hills here.

Haha, I feel stupid thinking that; nowhere is as messed up and bad as Beacon Hills. I mean, we were a literal beacon for the supernatural; this place was normal.

...Stiles will unknowingly soon regret those words...

I sighed deeply at the predicament I was currently in.

It was just my shitty luck.

I was being so careful and safe at first. I walked all around the neighborhood, checked a few shops, and even walked through a really pretty park, only to end up being robbed on my way back to the hotel.

Then I convinced myself that this place was safe if it wasn't Beacon Hills.

I had my head down, looking at my phone's directions, and I was just following the tiny directional arrow which was leading me back to the hotel because I got a little lost with all my exploring. I unknowingly took a turn down a deserted alleyway that cut my trip back in half but also brought me through a shady-looking area.

But I wasn't scared; I mean, I wasn't in Beacon Hills...

See where this dumb line of thinking led me.

It led me to be face-to-face with a knife. That alley I walked down wasn't just shady looking; no, it was dangerous if the guy swinging the knife in my face was not a blatant enough indicator. He had appeared in front of me, yelling and swinging the knife threateningly, maybe two minutes since I stepped into the alleyway.

I mean, just look at me, my first day in a new city, and I'm already becoming a statistic. I feel like I walked into a trap of perfect opportunity; for the robber, not for me.

The fact that the one alley I walk through on my first day here, I get a knife swung around my face. I was starting to get the feeling that I just must be a magnet for trouble.

I'm not in the cursed lands of Beacon Hills, but I'm still getting into life-threatening danger.

Maybe it was me...

What's up with that shit?

My robber was a guy in his late 20s, as he looked only a few years older than me. He had curly brown hair long enough to be tied up under a cap. And brown eyes were hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. He looked wrecked, with bags under his eyes and a bruise on his chin. He wouldn't have been intimidating if he wasn't so damn tall and if he also wasn't swinging a knife around. I might've even felt bad for the dude.

Anyway, said dude was swinging the knife really close to my face while yelling in a low but scary tone.

"Give me all the money you have right now! Give it now, or I will kill you." The robber yelled, rushing at me, which backed me into a corner as I tried to avoid getting cut.

Ah, but I quickly ran into some problems.

Two problems, well remember when I was being smart and only took $10 while hiding the rest safe and sound in my room, and when I was exploring, I bought a coffee and a donut, and I now had about $3.50 in my pocket. And I had just dropped my new phone on the floor, and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Menacing over here stepped on it with a loud crunch. So I had nothing to give to the crazy dude with the knife.

But the crazy dude with a knife didn't believe me. I tried to tell the man that I didn't have any money, of course, he didn't believe me because he said plainly who walked around with no money. And so he pushed me into the wall behind me with the knife getting ever closer to my face.

Now I can see this event going horribly wrong. Imagine little old me getting stabbed to death in an alley because I did not have any money on me, as I was forced to a place I didn't want to be. My dad would weep.

Just freaking great, right?

But before I feel like he's going to stab me in the face, his face changes.

Now, I'm not really surprised because Derek, Scott, and practically the whole population of people in Beacon Hills do this shifting thing. So no overwhelming, brain-shattering, world-exploding shock. But it was surprising in another light.

See, whatever this dude was, he was totally not a werewolf. No, he was some lizard thing. Not a Kanima, thank fucking lord for that blessing. But I don't even know what else he could be.

A were-lizard? Is that even a thing?

Well, it had to be something like that in any case cause he was not human, and he just shifted right before my eyes.

However, what I assumed was going to be an even worse situation, now that I knew he was part of the ever-so-murderous supernatural population, turned weird. See the moment that he changed his face and stared me directly in the eyes, a look of absolute horror struck across his face.

Like I was the nightmare monster rather than him. And he shrieked rather unbefitting of his size, then dropped his menacing weapon and ran away like he was the one who was just threatened and almost mugged.

It sorta hurt seeing that reaction. I mean, it was probably because he shifted on accident, but I couldn't help but feel like that horror was caused by me. And that hurt cause I'm not scary...right? I mean, there's no way it was because of me. More likely cause I found out. Maybe he was scared that I would tell on him, and you know, maybe another witch hunt would happen because, you know, humans don't like the freaky and abnormal. Well, at least, I assume that's what happened there.

And in a weird way, I guess I was granted some good luck since, in the end, I ended up alive and well. Sorta.

After catching my breath and really thinking about what happened, I gathered myself and my thoughts and put them to use. I picked up my sorry excuse of a cell phone and shook off all the broken and cracked glass to find it miraculously worked still. I then looked at the knife on the floor at my feet. I was contemplating if I should report the mugging. I mean, it was better to be safe than sorry, right? Less likely for the were-lizard dude to stalk me later.

I reached into my pocket a grabbed some extra napkins I had from when I bought the donut, and I used them to gingerly pick up the knife off the floor. I wrapped it in the remaining napkins and shoved it into my pocket, not touching the knife with my skin. I made sure none of my fingerprints got on it as I was going to use this as evidence of my unfortunate encounter just now. Because in retrospect, who would believe what happened to me? I walk to the station after googling the directions again, though this time, I keep my head on a swivel, and I walk fast until I get to my destination.

As I walked, I searched my memory of the bestiary to see if I remembered reading about that kind of were-lizard or something similar, but other than the Kanima, I got nothing. And I doubt googling it will help, as I practically googled every search regarding the supernatural and shifting and were-shit at this point. I mean, if I haven't come across it by now, then I doubt I will ever find my answers on google.

I feel if the knife can catch the guy who tried to mug me, then I would have the perfect opportunity to ask the source itself.

I mean, he obviously knows what he is. So if I ask him, I will get the right answer with absolutely no extra effort.

And that sounded perfect. That's why I was leaving the investigation to the actual cops with a database and the ability to create wanted posters.

It took me 10 minutes to make it to the station and 1 minute to enter the building. It was huge as I thought, but it felt even bigger than when just looking at a small photo on my phone. Also, I was surprised at the lack of security. I mean, it was a police station, so there were tons of armed cops, but I just walked in with a knife in my pocket, and no one was any wiser that I had it on me.

I walked in either way and looked around, everyone looked busy, and no one was looking at me, so I walked up to two rather causally dressed guys, who I assumed were detectives with their relaxed dress code.

"Excuse me?" I asked politely because they didn't notice me walk up, and I was going for nice right now; I might be working with these guys tomorrow.

A young-looking detective turned around to look at me. He turns and smiles while another guy at the desk beside him lifts his head from his work.

"I'm here to report a crime," I said, looking rather relaxed now since I walked off the adrenaline on the way here.

I was still on edge but no longer so twitchy.

"A crime, sure what happened." The younger of the two detectives gave his partner a look while pulling out a small notebook and preparing to write down what I was going to say.

"Well, I just moved here today, and well, I must be really unlucky because after exploring Portland for a while, I ended up in an alley and almost got mugged and stabbed," I said, surprising the two detectives.

I must've seemed too calm for my ordeal.

"What? Ah, wow, that is really unlucky. Are you hurt? I mean, you were so calm; I was not expecting that. What did he steal?" The young detective says, writing it all down with a look of shock on his face.

"Oh, I am fine, surprisingly. I had $3.50 on me, so I wasn't a good target, I guess. The guy stepped on my phone, though, and it's pretty busted, but I at least it works. Oh, by the way.." I say, pausing as I pull the neatly wrapped knife out of my pocket and deposit it on the table.

"I picked up the knife after he dropped it. I didn't touch it, so you could probably get prints off it." I said, putting my arms behind my back and smiling.

Both detectives look at the neatly wrapped knife and then look at me rather suspiciously. The older-looking detective stands, grabs an evidence bag out of his desk, and grabs the knife depositing it in the back and putting it on his desk.

"So you escaped unscathed. And you said you were almost mugged, so did you fight off your attacker?" The older detective asked, sitting down again while looking at me like he didn't believe the question he had asked.

Which is rude; I know I look like this, but...ah, well, I don't really have a good comeback; I'm weak as heck.

"Oh, hell no. There was no way I would've overpowered that dude; he was at least 3 full inches taller than me and was built like a tree. I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones; the best defense I have is my sarcasm. There was no way I was fighting that dude off." I said, imagining myself crumpling if I tried.

The detectives laughed.

"So how'd you get him to drop the knife and not mug you then?" The younger detective asked.

"I don't know, something spooked him, and he dropped the knife and ran. I mean, whatever it was, I'm thankful for it." I said, glossing over the were-lizard bit.

"I grabbed the knife because I thought if you get his fingerprints, then maybe you could catch him before he attacks someone else. He almost cut me up badly; I'd hate for someone else to have to experience that." I said truthfully; as much as I wanted to interrogate him, I also wanted him not to run around swinging a new knife and attacking others.

"That was some smart-thinking kid, especially in such a scary situation." The younger detective says.

I shrug; it wasn't too bad; I mean, the Kanima was 1,000,000 times worse.

"I guess. Anyway, do you need me to write a witness statement or talk to a sketch artist?" I ask, yawning as I was getting tired.

Both detectives look dumbstruck.

"You're pretty familiar with the process?" The older detective asks as, the younger one gets the paperwork and calls for the sketch artist.

"Oh yeah, I happen to find myself in bad situations often back home," I said, starting on the witness statement, already knowing what to write as I've written and read thousands.

In a matter of minutes, I finish my statement and chill on a chair, waiting for the artist. The detective looks impressed at my statement and smiles at me as he files everything.

"The statement was perfect. You thinking of becoming a cop." The younger detective asks.

I laugh at the irony he'd feel tomorrow when I come in for work.

"Yep. I'm not sure what kind yet. Maybe FBI?" I said as I was thinking about it since it seemed more up my alley.

"Wow, big future goals. Well, I hope the best for you then." The young detective says as the sketch artist arrives.

"Thanks," I said as I turned my attention to the sketch artist and recreate the mugger.

I've played with the sketch artist at the sheriff station since I was young; she would draw my friends when I'd describe them to her, so I ended up getting into the habit of studying people's faces when I see them, and because of it I often had a good memory with peoples faces. And it also really helped to recreate the mugger, as when she flipped the drawing around, it was like I was staring him down again.

"Yep, that's him. Wow, that was so good; I kinda got scared for a second, haha." I said, rubbing my forearms.

The young detective looked at the photo and was impressed again.

"Nice memory. With this, we will catch him in no time. Stay safe out there okay kid?" The young detective said as he patted my back as I stood to leave.

"I will try, but I can't promise I have shit luck, even if I manage to survive in the end," I said honestly and left.

Since I turned around, I didn't see the perplexed look on the detective's faces, as if I was an enigma that they wanted to solve.

I was kind of excited for tomorrow, not just for starting the internship but also to shock those detectives.

This was going to be so much fun. I don't know how I feel about Portland yet.

I wasn't sure if I was going to like it because I thought I'd be bored. But at least this place was interesting.

What with the cool station and cool-looking detectives, then the mysterious were-lizard.

Maybe I could have fun here after all.