Innocent Bystander

She had screeched as he dragged her up the staircase, and begged profusely with tears as he picked her up in the upstairs corridor. Stiles had carried her along. He merrily whistled, as her nails scraped his arms and neck bloody. She bit his ear and tugged at his hair. He groaned excitedly. Finally, upon reaching the bathroom, he put her down… Then he pushed her down. Voice cracking, she hollered. Stiles forced her back under the water with one hand, grasping the grating leaning against the sink with the other. He was prepared. Tools at hand, Stiles screwed nails down through the grating and the very bones of the bathtub. She cried, salty tears bleeding from her sore sockets. Gasping his name, the young girl attempted to push the grating up. Her breath was short, fast, and Stiles smirked. He grinned broadly, as her arms tired. Her pink lips, rouging due to the boiling water, were smeared across the rusted metal. "Stiles!" she whined, struggling to keep her terrified teary visage above the water-line. Smile slipping, he anxiously licked his lips. Could he wait?

The scream was enticing. His fingertips twitched hungrily, as he fought the tantalising temptation to tear the grating away and have some extra fun before the end. Her skin was peeling, cracking and her hair looked like used straw. Her locks dully floated about her reddened visage, strangling her thin throat.

A pair of wide salient brown and green meshes stared up at his rippling figure. Her blotching hand hastily reached out for him, the air of the bathroom stinging her stripped skin.

He laughed, watching her torn lips cry a name. No doubt, it was the name of his host again.

Stiles!

Her other hand pushed at the bottom of the bathtub. Stiles bent over, kneeling beside her prison. He reached out. Her fingers clutched at his own through the grating he had rapidly nailed atop her flushing frame an hour beforehand. He had released some of the water and refilled the tub, as she fought. His blood boiled like the water that ran from the tap. She was so much fun!

Lips lifting, his dark eyes peered through the scolding water. She stared back silently then, eyes drooped. The young girl no longer pressed her lips up to the thick chicken-wire-like covering. Stiles scoffed, pulling his hand from her grasp. She kicked out, the metal quivering as the screwed down nails were dragged through the border of the bathtub.

Glaring, he bit his lip determinedly and turned on the hot tap again. "You need to learn how to behave." He firmly told her, "Now, I've got stuff to do." He raised himself up, patting his wet jeans down with a towel. He held it out towards her, staring at her own soaked clothes. Her white tank top was stained, dirtying the water with mud and blood. Her jeans were torn, the left lower legged material hanging limply away from her limb. He shrugged as she glowered, hands striking out. A loud bang resounded, as her fists thundered against the sides of the bathtub. Stiles tossed the towel aside. As he pulled the door closed, he ordered, "Don't die while I'm gone."

She was alone. She had been alone. The front door slammed shut. Desperate footsteps thundered. The staircase wailed under the pressure of their feet. She heard him then, shouting her name. The pair threw themselves against the door. Vaguely, through the still water, she heard a quiet voice. The tone exuded guilt, but she found that difficult to believe. She sighed, eyes closing.

Scott and Derek burst through the doorway. The hinges gave. Stiles rushed forward between the two, as they carefully leaned the toppling door against the hallway wall. Derek stared at the metal atop the bathtub. With both hands, Stiles pulled at the makeshift cage. His hands quickly became coated with his own blood as the metal jabbed at his soft flesh. Scott dashed down, retrieving a laid-about tool from nearby the sink. He worked quickly, removing the nails.

Stiles lifted her out, Derek leaning over his and Scott's shoulders. He expressed a deep apology, begging her to open her eyes. She wanted him to suffer, but she also desperately wanted Derek. The young girl lifted her eyelids. They would not work. Her head felt dizzy and her body light, though that could have been due to Stiles holding her weight. She lightly sighed, finding water clogging her windpipe. Choking, chest heaving, she coughed ferociously. Derek yelled out, bright eyes wide with panic, as Stiles clumsily laid her on the bathroom floor. The tiles cooled her flesh. As her skin dried, blood seeped from the cracks. Dead scraps clung to her body. Her hearing was muffled, but she vaguely heard Scott exclaim something, something… something.

Her eyes shot open, head reeling as water erupted. Mouth gaping, heart hurting, she unleashed the water. Stiles grunted with disgust. The onslaught stained his shirt and jeans. Derek shoved him, but Stiles clutched her tighter. He made a smart remark and Scott berated him, carefully watching her.

Chin resting on Stiles shoulder, she lazily stared down the hallway. He rocked her gently, murmuring and she almost enjoyed the sensation. She felt ill, her stomach threatening to give way again. Stiles told the pair to get her a glass of water and something to nibble on, alongside some cream for her wounds. Grudgingly they did so, Scott hesitating. Derek gazed over his shoulder as he plodded back down the hall and toward the staircase. Her heart leapt as she watched them go. She raised her head hastily, eyes losing focus every few moments. The blurry image of Stiles' smiling visage beamed at her. As her vision cleared, he slowly removed his hands from her arm and back. He clutched firmly at the back of her neck, pupils dilating. His tongue darted out, careening over his lips like a wave over the shoreline and she shivered.

He swallowed her holler.

Lips locked, they fought. She pushed at his chest, as he pulled her closer by the back of her sodden tank top. He tugged her thigh up and around his waist as she kicked out at his stomach. The young girl leaned back with her spine only to have him follow. He brought her upright again, sucking out her passionate pain. She felt her body numb. A cold sensation ebbed into her fingertips and her toes. Elongated claws hooked into her joints and crawled upward. Something jabbed at her heart as her lungs suffered his bliss.

He pulled back. She gasped desperately. Smirking, his breathed deeply. Stiles leaned into her neck, nipping at her veins. A sob escaped her. She whispered weakly, "Derek, help."

Through the pain and Stiles' attentions she heard harsh footsteps.

She turned her head slightly. Stiles clutched at her shoulder blades, hulking her up as her arms limply floated through the space between her neck and knees. The blistering cold of the tiles poured through and rode her knees raw as Stiles sucked on her throat. Her eyes locked with those of Derek. Her lower lip trembled, but no more tears came to her.

He shouted for Scott, whom tumbled up the stairs. Derek ran to her, as Stiles sneered at him, face buried in her locks and wiping along the singed skin of her collar bone. He leered, lifting her head up to his own. Clutching her hair tightly, he tugged her forward. The bathroom door quivered and resumed its purpose, slamming. It was jammed, no hinges to allow entry. Derek roared. He fought against the power that held the door in place, but Stiles was not Stiles. This was something else – something they had concealed from her… a beast. She sighed with exhaustion, as the creature's tongue invaded her insides. She thought of Derek, his own luscious lips pressed against hers. She enjoyed him.

She kissed back, lips slowing like her heart.

Her heart stopped.

The Nogitsune had fed.