I've written a small story for you guys.

Since I was so inactive the past time, I wanted to give you at least something.
I hope you like it 3


He laid down in all that blood. The blood of his enemies and friends. The blood that covered most of the floor. That red warm liquid that spilled out of all the bodies around him.
"Stiles?" The wolf whispered. Not as a threat. Not as a growl.
Just a soft whisper, ghosting around in search for the wolfs mate.
"Stiles?" He repeated, but not an answer was found.
The wolf had calmed down finally and took a better look at the bodies laying in the room.
Werewolves, witches, humans. All of them dead.
His family, the coven of beacon hills of which stiles had been a member till they were all killed, the beacon hills pack known as the McCall pack. All dead.
The wolf smelt the air and tried to find Stiles scent, which was pretty hard as the whole room reeked of blood.
The wolf then decided to move around and try to catch the kids scent.
So he walked around. In between the bodies, the organs and the bodyparts that had been ripped off. And of course, the blood.
The old wolf didn't had a problem with any of those things. He was just searching for his mate. For Stiles. Knowing that the kid was too smart to die in such a mess, in such a massacre, in a bloodbath. The meeting couldn't go more wrong as this.
Everything had went downhill as the hunters had interfere with a gunfire from the ceiling and a witch had hit the wolf with a very aggressive spell. That had been their death sentence.
The creature moved on as he recalled the recent events.
He looked up instantly as he heard a heartbeat right in front of him and looked through his wolf eyes, which let him see in the dark.
"Stiles" he whispered as he recognised the face and the sweet smell of the spark right in front of him.
"Peter" The man said and cupped his face.
"Let's get you home" he whispered back and the wolf agreed with a small nod and collapsed in the sparks arms.


If you liked it, let me know.