"Derek, Derek stop—" Stiles' voice was cut off by a choked moan. His fingers curled in the soft fabric of Derek's grey Henley.
"Why are you holding back?" Derek growled, biting down harshly on Stiles' collarbone. Stiles gasped and felt a shudder tear through his body.
Stiles forced his breath back to him, "I can't—Danny—"
Derek's lips rose in a sneer and he mashed his lips against Stiles' once again. Stiles moaned and moved his hands to push up in to Derek's hair. He twisted his fingers in the soft, dark hair.
"You're mine," Derek rumbled, his breath warm and sweet against Stiles' lips. This caused anger to spike in Stiles. The shorter male felt black bleed in to his eyes. Derek hissed and jerked away from Stiles a moment later. His eyes glowed an angry red and he turned his head sideways and spat a bit of blood out of his mouth.
"I am no one's," Stiles whispered, his voice deep and strangled as if speaking from a different place. A slow and impossibly wolfish smirk spread across Derek's lips.
"We'll see about that, Betrayer," The sharp scent of brimstone filled Derek's nose and his body hummed in anticipation. Stiles exhaled slowly and let his consciousness slip away and allowed the demon to take over.
Let's take this moment to welcome you, reader, to the small town of Beacon Hills, California. Beacon Hills is just like any other small town. It has a school district, sheriff's office, veterinary clinic, grocer, and even a movie theater. Every Friday during the season, the entire town comes out and cheers on the high school lacrosse team. Time came and went in this little town just like every other town. And, just like every town, Beacon Hills had its own dirty little secrets.
Beacon Hills was a breeding ground for supernatural activity—something to do with proximity to astral lines. There were certain happenings that not even the sheriff's office knew about. It was handled just as it came up in discreet and quick fashions. There were two driving forces on the forefront of battle against the supernatural in Beacon Hills. One was a family of hunters and the other a family of werewolves—both very ancient bloodlines. Once at war with each other, they were now on a less than sturdy truce.
But eighteen years ago, something never before seen in Beacon Hills decided to mosey across the county line. This was something much darker, older, and more powerful than any other visitor in Beacon Hills. Its name was Stiles Stilinski and he was here to cause mischief. Now, there are a few things you need to know about Stiles Stilinski. One, he is the sheriff's son. Two, his mother died when he was very young. Three, his favorite superhero of all time is Batman. Four, his best friend is a werewolf by accident. Five, his real name isn't Stiles or even what is written on his birth certificate—which is a travesty to all names and will never be mentioned ever. His real name is Aeterna Perfide or—his most infamous name—Judas.
Now here's the sticky part of that. Stiles isn't really a singular person anymore. His being, Aeterna Perfide, is more like the personification of mischief and chaos. Very similar to Norse mythology's Loki. No he was never a horse and he never planned on giving birth to an eight-legged anything. He was totally not in to the whole mpreg thing. Anyway, back to the important things. Aeterna Perfide sort of just popped up in Hell one day—borne from the darkness of people's hearts. He was always up for a good joke. His favorite would always be the classic spreading of a witch rumor and subsequent stoning. He so loved a good stoning. So what if only 1/23 were actual witches? No big deal.
So how does something that was created from people in a non-biological way survive for so long, you ask? That's easy—find something that will survive, for example the humans. Until they manage to destroy themselves, the human race is the perfect vessel for manifesting evil. So that's what he does. He just latches on during a time that it's easiest to overthrow the human's own self and rides it out. He's a body snatcher of sorts, but much more civilized obviously. That's what brought him to Beacon Hills. There had been some sort of tragedy—he wasn't exactly sure—that caused a nice thick miasma of misery to blanket the town. It was the perfect beacon for him. Pun intended. He found a nice body, some elder man who had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and blended right in. Unfortunately for him, the illness caught much quicker than anyone could have anticipated and his meat suit was soon staying in the hospital for most of its days.
Not all was lost however. As people like to say, when God closes one door, He opens another. Although Aeterna knew that was the biggest crock of shit because the God he knew didn't give two flying fucks about doors, he still jumped on the opportunity presented to him. He had become strong enough over the last few centuries to be able to manifest a physical body for short periods of time. It wasn't anything substantial that he could survive with, but just enough that he could take little strolls on his own. So here he was, just strolling around in the hospital to stretch his legs, when he bumps in to this little kid.
The kid's small—maybe eight or nine in human years—and he doesn't stand much taller than Aeterna's thighs. His hair is shorn and a light dusting of brown on his head. He looks up at Aeterna with wide, brown eyes. He's clutching a candy bar to his chest.
"Sorry about that mister," he says, "I didn't mean to run in to you,"
Aeterna feels his lips twitch up in to a smirk. He kneels down in front of the kid, "You should watch where you're going. You might meet with a dangerous person,"
The kid shakes his head very quickly, "I'll be okay. My daddy's a deputy! He's like a superhero!"
"Oh?" Aeterna's eyebrow rose, "Is that so?"
"Yup! He takes out the bad guys like wham and pow and kerblam!" The kid exclaimed, throwing exaggerated punches and kicks in to the air. He nearly fell over and Aeterna reached out to steady him.
"You're an interesting one," he murmured, "What's your name?"
"Just call me Stiles, everyone else does,"
"Stiles isn't your name?"
"Nope!" Stiles frowned, his forehead creasing comically, "But my name is terrible, so I like Stiles even better! Besides, my mommy loves it too,"
"Stiles!" Called a demanding voice. Stiles looked up and his eyes sparkled.
"Sorry mister, I have to go. That's my dad," he said in a rush of breath before hurrying around Aeterna.
Aeterna made a small humming sound in his throat as he stood. He turned to watch the kid. Stiles ran up to a man who was indeed wearing a deputy's uniform. Stiles presented the candy bar to him and the older man smiled softly. He took the candy bar and watched with a fond affection as his son made wild motions with his arms. At one point, Stiles gestured toward where Aeterna was standing and Stiles' father looked up. The man nodded slightly at Aeterna and he returned the gesture with a small twitch of his own. The deputy soon was able to calm his son enough to corral his son in to a nearby room.
Aeterna blinks and pushes his hands in to the pockets of his jeans. He makes another sound in his throat and begins to walk once more. When he walked past the room Stiles and his father had disappeared in, he glanced at the bronze nameplate next to the door. It read "Claudia Stilinski." Aeterna's eyes drifted in to the room. He saw the deputy sitting with his back to the door next to the bed in the room. Stiles was actually sitting on the bed between the legs of the woman lying there. He was telling a story from what Aeterna could tell by the faces and wild gestures the boy was making. The woman laughed and it was a warm sound. Stiles' face lit up at the sound and he jumped straight back in to his story in hopes of eliciting the same reaction from her. Aeterna watched for a moment more before slinking back to the hospital room where he had left his current host.
It was another week before Aeterna conjured up his physical body and roamed the hospital halls once more. His current host wasn't going to last much longer—two maybe three months at the most. Aeterna was entertaining the thought of finding a new host when he was nearly run down by a man in a deputy's uniform.
"Pardon me," the man said.
"Like father like son," Aeterna chuckled.
The deputy blinked, "Oh. You're the man Stiles bumped in to the other day. I apologize about that—he's a little hyperactive,"
Aeterna rose his hands in front of him and shook his head, "No harm done,"
"Well," the deputy rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "Let me buy you a cup of Joe anyhow,"
Aeterna shrugged and followed the deputy to the small room filled with constantly buzzing snack machines. The uniformed man put a few dollars in to the machine that made hot drinks. After a Styrofoam cup dropped down and the machine began to gurgle out coffee, the deputy leaned against a wall.
He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back to rest against the wall. Aeterna looked at the man standing before him. He would be a good host. He was strong and healthy. Yes, he had a bit of weight around his middle, but honestly who didn't? While he was only a deputy now, Aeterna could tell that the man had bigger plans for himself. Aeterna wouldn't be the least surprised if he saw this man running for sheriff in the next few elections. He was an integral part of the community. This would make it easier for Aeterna to cause all sorts of mayhem. How insanely fun would that be? Except there was one glaring problem: he was just too good.
Most people had something Aeterna could exploit. Greed, desire, longing—but not him. He would rather shoot his own foot off before he did anything even remotely immoral. Which was a total damper on Aeterna's search for a host. He inadvertently sighed. Back to square one, he thought.
"So," the deputy began as he handed Aeterna one of the cups from the machine, "I haven't seen you around here before. What brings you to Beacon Hills?"
"Family business," Aeterna answered simply. He took a sip from his so righteously bitter coffee.
"A relative is ill?" The deputy continued.
Aeterna chuckled and feigned nervousness, "It feels like you're interrogating a criminal, officer,"
"Oh," the man seemed flustered by this, "Sorry—force of habit. Let me try again. My name is John Stilinski, Beacon Hills Deputy,"
"Andrew Infernal," Aeterna offered. John held his hand out and they shook firmly.
"Interesting name you've got there Andrew," John commented.
"My family is Old Slavic," Aeterna shrugged, "I could say the same of you. Stilinski sounds fairly Polish, am I correct?"
"It runs on my grandfather's side of the family," John replied with a slight grin, "I'm surprised you recognized that,"
"Well, I've been around. One could say I'm an old soul," he kept himself from sniggering at his own cleverness.
John nodded and drank from his coffee, "So who are you visiting?"
"An old family friend—he was practically a second father to me," Aeterna lied through his teeth.
"And yourself? If you don't mind me asking?"
A faraway look came in to John's eyes and he fingered absently at the rim of his glass.
"My wife," he said after a moment.
The air hung tense between the two men.
"Why is she in here?" Aeterna asked, his voice low and careful.
"The doctors found a tumor on her pancreas. It's cancer,"
"What stage is it? If they've caught it early enough the doctors can—"
"It's already reached Stage IV," John interrupted, soft but commanding.
"Then will she—?"
John shook his head minutely, "She probably won't last the year,"
John looked shocked. His face lost its colour and his eyes were wide. It was as if this was the first time he had said it out loud. Perhaps this was the first time he was really admitting to himself that he would soon be without the person he expected to spend the rest of his life with. She would just simply be no more.
Aeterna watched as large tears dripped from John's eyes. They plip-plopped in to his coffee. The sound startled him and he realized he was crying.
"Sorry," John muttered, "Sorry," he pulled his free hand up and covered his eyes with his palm. His forehead wrinkled and the bottom half of his face contorted in to an expression of tremendous agony. He continued to sob and shake as his emotions wracked his entire body.
Aeterna stepped forward and gingerly took the coffee cup from John's fingers and placed it on a nearby counter. John covered his entire face with both his hands and sobbed in to his palms. Aeterna placed a hand that was meant to be comforting on John's shoulder.
"Let it out," he whispered, "Get it all out now—you have to be strong for Stiles,"
This caused John to break down even further. He sank to his knees and sobbed grossly. Aeterna took a step back to give the man some space. He felt black bleed in to the whites of his eyes. A tight lipped grin pulled across his lips. That was it—he had found his way in.