Is this what Jackson felt?
It was the most bizarre feeling that crossed his mind. For a split second, or more… Scott wasn't entirely sure if a split second or a life time could be defined once after the feelings came like a flood. Yet, the second, he decided, the second he recalled the boy his mind sunk deeper.
Would he awaken again suddenly with the fleeting feeling that he failed? That his truth was merely a facade sent out by the veterans of supernatural's around him? Scott didn't know much, and more often than not Lydia and Stiles was doing the research.
The research. Scott was never good with research. He was never good with the simple things of memorization and being acutely aware of the note and words spoken by a teacher, and the funnelling of information and connection with text. Instead Scott felt. He felt deeply and his gut told him so much and typically led him to redemption or hope.
Now all was lingering was a dull sensation of Theo's claws and the idea that perhaps this is what Jackson felt like. Then again Jackson woke up to being a werewolf. He then moved away. Scott could wake up. He just wanted to wake up. Find Liam. Finish this for once.
"Scott?"the words lingered faintly, the words that sent his heart beating a fraction faster, and a tone that had his imagination tracking the way his name was said. The way Allison's glossed lips would curly up, dimples emerging, and eyes igniting.
"Scott."the words uttered again, and Scott groaned briefly before turning on his side. "Scott what are you doing here?"Allison's voice rang, causing the boy's brows to furrow up and his throat to catch in itself. He hadn't heard her voice in months. He still had a voicemail saved from her. He still found himself walking by her old house or apartment from time to time. When he wasn't faced with Dread Doctors. When Kira was busy. When the pack didn't demand him. The balance really did tip in a way.
It always did.
It always tipped against him.
"Scott."the words echoed as Scott's eyes fluttered opened, the girl kneeling before him, but nothing but a blanket of white around them. Faintly he could recognize solid floor beneath him, but he couldn't judge if there was a roof. The boy's senses gave him no indication of smell, who was around them or how they felt. He couldn't hear anything, no heartbeat or steadiness of breath. He just felt Allison. The boy's brows crest further, too afraid to utter words, too terrified to see her and see her vanish.
"They need you Scott."she soothed as her palm came to cup his cheek. He could abruptly smell her. Yet it wasn't her. It was different. Like memories of her. Like autumn leaves, or the steel of arrows. Something so distant. Her perfume but faded. Not active, not lively, not filled with pheromones the eluded to life and existing.
A mugginess clung to his shoulders, and made it unbearable for Derek's neck to touch his chest. The feeling of his stumble and the thick line of sweat across him made him feel ill. Though things lately made him feel incredibly ill. The super moon was nigh, Braeden gone to Beacon Hills, and Derek stranded in a villa in Mexico.
Well, not stranded, but he felt stranded. Useless somehow after all these months. He hadn't heard from Isaac or Cora in forever. The people he loved and felt close dearly too all scattered across the globe.
For being a Beacon the small town sure found a way to repel those that protected it.
A sour expression crossed Derek's face as he turned onto his side. As he did his gaze caught his fingers, noticing how his claws were extended. A furrow crossed Derek's thick brows, as he sat up, furling and curling his fingers in.
Something wasn't right.
Distantly his nose felt off. As if he could smell the scent of things that didn't make sense. Perfume but faded. Locker rooms. Vanilla. It was very different from the stale mugginess and sheer spice that surround the house he was staying in.
Derek grabbed his phone and sent the message to those that needed it.
"Allison"he croaked after some time. For what felt like an eternity he just embraced the warmth of the girls hand, but almost all at once the feeling was gone. The coolness a foreign contrast that had Scott feeling a sinking deep sadness.
"It's always Allison isn't it?"a quirky tone drawled out, which had Scott's face twitching, and a small grimace forming. The voice sent a spike of thrill coursing in Scott, but then a pang of guilt bellowed in his core.
"Allison, Allison, Allison."the girl echoed, as Scott turned, and faced the girl with blonde curls and those perfectly red rose lips. In this moment Scott found himself touching her hair, and feeling it. It felt frizzy but looked so smooth and shiny. The boy's eyes found the girls lips, and then the seductive smile that turned down into a serious line. In a blink the red lips were nothing but a faded pink.
"From what I recall, you shouldn't be here cutie, now should you?" her voice suddenly more tentative, sad, cautious… It was so suddenly shy for Scott that he almost didn't believe it was Erica.
Sleep Paralysis. It was a real thing apparently. It was a terrible, terrifying feeling, and it made Isaac feel a fraction too much like he was confound again. His eyes were open alert, and from the way his head was placed he could see he yellow eyes glowing back at him from the mirror. He couldn't move his shoulders, his arms, his fingers, his legs. He could feel his chest rising and falling, but not even his fingers hand anything to grasp too. One arm was beneath him and the other sprawled above him trapped beneath a pillow.
What was going on? Had he dozed off so early in the day that suddenly he found himself unable to move.
The boy's chest heaved as he recognized the blankets beneath him curled and folded from the way he'd apparently been moving in his sleep. A clamminess had overcome him and his hair was more wild than he liked. It stuck up as much as it clung to his face, individual strands sticking obscenely across his forehead and temple, as if irritating. Yet he couldn't scratch or brush them away. He couldn't move. The realization pulsed and kept hitting him over and over. He looked terrible and felt terrible. Yet, the minor judgements that skated across his mind couldn't make up for the way his fangs plucked the skin of his lips away. It couldn't change how his white pillows now had a stain of red spreading, and his own scared yellow eyes looking back at him.
He hadn't felt quite like this in a long time.
Immediately he felt the instinct came to call out for Camden.
Then layered was the desire to scream towards his father.
Then glazed over was the call for Derek.
His lips merely twitched but didn't budge. They couldn't curl to form words, even his tongue was beginning to feel dry, and he felt utterly lost.
As the image of the older boy swam across Isaac's gaze the image of his older brother managed to stain into a deeper shade of brown. The tall boy he remembered seemed to shift into a shorter boy, one with hopeful eyes, and crooked smile.
"We didn't fight this much for it be over."a grumbled voice beckoned Scott, and just as suddenly with the others Scott was face to face with deep lustrous eyes. They still held a sadness. Despite wherever they were Boyd still had a deep sadness sunk around his pupils. Yet the white of his eyes were brighter, his eyes not so sunken in, but his body slack with weight regardless.
"You've faced bigger and badder McCall."
'I don't know what to do.' Scott's mind supplied, but still his mouth would shift. It couldn't form words, but his brows could furrow with all their might. Faintly he could hear Stile's remarking in his head about how much he was slowly turning into Derek. As those thoughts formed Scott felt a deeper dread. He missed Derek. What did he do to Stiles? Why didn't he believe him? The questions hit him like a freight train, but despite the feeling of utter lose it still felt as though Boyd could hear him. He could understand him so effortllessly. A sly smile bloomed on the ebony boy, and it sent tingle of shock through Scott. He felt himself leaning forward, as if waiting for a secret to be told to him, but as he leaned forward Boyd shrugged easily.
"Have a little faith."
The cup dropped from his hand. The shattering spreading out so effortlessly but with a loud cry. Almost like a scream. Almost like the awakening cry of Death.
His jaw clenched at the idea as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. "I'm fine."he bit back as his brows fell to the bridge of his nose and his eyes slitted effortlessly.
The person behind him reached out for him again, but Jackson simply rolled his eyes and stormed out of the coffee shop. He was on the streets of London. He was sweating. It was raining. Yet he felt like he was suffocating again. Like he was drowning. He turned his gaze to his reflection, watching as the water pelted him, and blinking as his eyes flashed blue. The boy frowned deeply. This feeling felt so wild. Like Gerard or Matt had control over him, or like some sort of fear or dread was taking over him.
The boy grumbled.
He hadn't thought of any of that in a time.
His phone buzzed then. The boy pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb rubbing the rain droplets away so he could open and see the message. A foreign number he didn't quite recognize appeared. Jackson scowled at it as he opened the message.
Did you feel it?
He then could guess who it was.
Isaac had tears forming around his eyes now. Every time he looked at himself in the mirror his eyes were still a fiery yellow. The yellow outlined with a red puffiness.
He just wanted to move.
Then his phone buzzed and he saw the thing laying right up to the mirror.
The boy blinked as he fought to crane his head.
He could faintly read the words.
Id…u…eel it?
A sharp coolness washed over the boy as he felt his breath sucked from him. This all felt too familiar in a way.
"He's not pack though."
"I think he is. I just don't know what's going on."
"Okay, well I'm not sure what you expect here. We're all so far away from each other. We can't just fly back home."
"I'm not asking you to fly home Cora."
"What are you asking?"
"I don't know."
"Scott's a True Alpha. He's fine. He was never my Alpha."she found herself lamenting.
"He was never really any of our Alpha, but I know we can all feel it. Lydia's not answering. Braeden's not answering. This feels like Laura all over again." Derek's tone husked. Then he felt alone. He felt like everything was just a tip off balance and all to sickly. Yet now there was people who cared for him. Who cared for Scott.
"What do we do then?"
"I'll call Chris. I think we need to go back home."
"What about Jackson and Isaac?"
"It's time they understand that growing up and facing home is… It's important. They shouldn't do what I did. Scott needs us. They all do."
Everything seemed foggy. Her body strapped to a bed, her body heavy, her gaze washed with blurriness and shapes.
"Scott…"her voice rasped out as she turned her head, her eyes rolling back, and everything fading to black.