Stiles Stilinski never claimed to understand the full spectrum of supernatural drama, but he was fluent in emotional devastation. And when Nova Hale walked into the Stilinski house three months ago with red-rimmed eyes and a silence that stretched longer than any explanation could, he knew something had broken.
She didn't say anything at first. Just dropped her duffel bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch like her bones had turned to stone. Lydia and Malia followed behind her, exchanging a silent glance with Stiles that said, Something happened.
And when she finally spoke—hoarse, quiet, guttural—the words stabbed through the air like daggers.
"I caught Allison in bed with someone else. It was Scott."
"Allison... slept with Scott?" he'd said, nearly choking.
Nova had nodded once, tear-streaked and shaking. "Walked in on them."
Stiles remembered going silent, the air sucked out of his lungs. He had always looked up to Scott, always had this unshakable belief that he'd do the right thing.
But this? This wasn't right.
Stiles' heart cracked for her. The revelation hit him like a freight train. "Scott?" he echoed under his breath, disbelief swirling into fury. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Scott—his best friend. Allison—someone they'd all loved. Stiles couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd never thought either of them would betray Nova like that. She didn't deserve this. And yet, here she was—shattered by the two people she had trusted most.
He'd never seen Nova cry before. Not when her most of her birth family died, not that Nova could remember who they were at the time. Not when she came out. Not even when Derek had nearly died during a rogue hunter attack by Kate Argent. But she cried that night, curled up on the Stilinski couch in an oversized hoodie, clutching a throw pillow like it was her last lifeline.
He stayed up with her until 3 a.m., even though she didn't say anything more. Just sat there. Breathing. Breaking. Healing, slowly.
Before the trip to the Salvatore School officially began, Nova had told them all about a new school Derek mentioned to her—somewhere for supernatural teens, a place where she might feel safe again. She'd hesitated, but the moment Caroline Forbes-Salvatore showed up at Derek's loft, explaining the details of the Salvatore School and its unique blend of supernatural education and support, Nova made up her mind.
She'd called Stiles, Lydia, Malia, Isaac, Ethan, and Aiden into the living room and simply said, "I'm going. You can come too, if you want. But I need this."
Caroline had smiled fondly. "We take care of our own."
Nova had jerked a thumb toward Stiles. "He's my emissary. He comes too or none of us do."
It had made him tear up a little, not that he'd admit it.
A week later, the trip to the Salvatore School was underway. They'd stopped at a motel just outside Memphis—one of those roadside places with flickering signs and vending machines that only took quarters. Lydia, Malia, and Nova shared a room.
Stiles bunked with Isaac, Derek had his own room, Ethan and Aiden were in the same room. They all had their rooms in the same hallway, but something felt... off.
Nova had been quiet all trip. Not just emotionally shut down—physically strained. Rubbing her stomach when she thought no one was watching. Moving a little slower. Pale.
The next morning, Lydia gathered them all before they hit the road.
"She has something to tell you," Lydia said, her voice gentle but firm, standing beside Nova like a silent pillar of support.
Nova didn't look at any of them. She stared at the concrete beneath her shoes. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest like armor.
"I'm pregnant."
The silence that followed wasn't judgmental—it was stunned. Still. Like time itself had hiccuped.
Stiles blinked. "Wait—what?"
Nova nodded, barely. "It was one night. Someone I met in Beacon Hills when I was in the Preserve. Her name was Hope. I didn't mean anything. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. I just needed something real, you know."
He felt like the air had been sucked out of the parking lot. Not because he was mad—he wasn't. Just... blindsided. Nova, pregnant. With someone none of them had met.
"Holy crap," he muttered. "Okay. Okay. Uh, do you need prenatal vitamins? Werewolf-safe ones? I can look it up—"
Nova huffed a soft laugh, a little watery around the edges. "I'm okay. I promise."
Lydia squeezed her hand. Malia, ever casual, just gave her a nod like it all made sense now. Isaac pulled her into a hug. Ethan and Aiden promised to help in any way. And Derek, looming behind them all, looked like he wanted to punch the mystery girl in the face but was staying quiet—for now.
Stiles didn't say much more after that. He just slung an arm around Nova's shoulders and muttered, "We got you. No matter what."
She wasn't alone.
The Salvatore School was... a lot.
When they arrived at the Salvatore School, Stiles was immediately suspicious of how massive and Hogwarts-like the place was. But his curiosity kicked in. Magic, vampires, witches, hybrid wolves? It was his dream field guide come to life.
There were vampire teens doing yoga on the lawn. A witch levitating her homework out a window. A werewolf napping under a tree.
Stiles felt like he'd walked into an enchanted Gap commercial.
But he could tell the others were adjusting faster. Malia had already challenged a werewolf boy to a sparring match. Lydia was chatting with some witch professor. And Isaac kept wandering the library like it was Disneyland.
The school was chaos, and the supernatural drama made Beacon Hills look like a summer camp, but even through it all, Stiles found himself thriving.
He was learning so much—about magic, curses, ancient bloodlines, soulbonds, supernatural politics. He asked too many questions, annoyed a few teachers, charmed the others, and probably read half the restricted section within two weeks.
He loved it.
Nova kept to herself. And no one asked questions. Until they did.
Right after they arrived and Nova was introduced to her new roommate, Stiles noticed something immediately—Nova started avoiding her. Eyes averted, steps redirected, energy suddenly off.
It didn't take a genius. Just a Stiles.
Nova was never subtle, and definitely not when she was panicking.
So Stiles did what Stiles did best: Observe. Investigate. Overanalyze.
He'd pieced it together long before anyone else did: Nova's new roommate, Hope Mikaelson, wasn't just another supernatural teen.
Then the dots connected.
She was the one.
The one from that night in the woods.
The one who had gotten Nova pregnant.
And then came the reveal.
The moment Hope Mikaelson—Queen of Brooding Smirks and Tribrid Magic—stormed into the nurse's office after Nova collapsed during training.
Stiles remembered how tense the air felt. How Hope's magic practically sizzled.
He remembered the moment Lydia told Hope the truth.
And then he remembered Nova whispering that the baby wasn't Hope's.
And Hope not believing her.
Stiles wasn't an empath. He wasn't psychic. But in that moment, he knew.
He saw the fear in Nova's eyes.
He saw the fire in Hope's.
He saw something ancient, something real, pull tight between them.
Soulbond. Love. Chaos.
Of course, Hope was the other parent. Of course she was. This was Nova Hale, after all. Nothing about her life was ever simple.
He leaned against the wall outside the infirmary, staring at the ceiling.
"Well," he muttered to himself. "Guess we're gonna need a baby shower. And probably a couple exorcisms."
And maybe a bat.
Just in case Allison came back.
And Scott? Stiles didn't even know what to think anymore. But one thing was clear:
He wasn't forgiving either of them anytime soon.
Nova was safe.
Hope was watching her back.
And for once, Stiles felt like the world might not fall apart under their feet.
Then again, with this crowd? That was probably asking too much.
Still, as long as he had a plan—and maybe a bat hidden in the broom closet—he'd be ready.
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