Stop it…Stiles hissed, throwing up his mental shields again.
Stop what? I'm not doing anything, The demon chuckled, lips unmoving but its mind crackled and sparked with energy.
Let me go, I don't belong here…Stiles pleaded, fighting off another wave of magic.
You died…once your soul leaves your flesh, it doesn't matter what happens to you. The demon sneered, eyes flashing.
Stiles struggled against the iron chains; he knew he was in hell, but he'd figured that if he died as a sacrifice, he'd end up in heaven.
How do I get there?
How do I get there?
Derek shook his head and blinked twice, that thought hadn't been his own; he gripped the cold metal pole and pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the barbed wire as he descended and landing with a soft thud on the grass below.
He walked the lone path slowly, gazing at each stone, reading each birth and death year carefully until he got to the third row, fourth stone in. The headstone was still untouched by weather, unlike the others. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head, digging his claws into the soft sod; it would be another season before the grass began to re-grow.
Here Lies "Stiles" Stilinski; Beloved Son, Brother and Friend. R.I.P.
Derek suppressed a desire to slash the headstone into pieces by biting his lip and feeling the blood that welled up from his lower fangs.
"Stiles…" He began shakily, "S-Stiles I know you can hear me; we need your help." He felt utterly stupid, talking to a stone, under which a pine box held a decomposing corpse… the decomposing corpse of the only one outside his family who he'd ever considered loving eternally.
"Why did you do it? Huh? Why did you let her kill you, you asshole?" he shouted, causing a dog from the nearby neighborhood to bark accusingly at him.
He didn't expect anything to happen; there was no eerie mist, no haunting spells, no mysterious figures, just an owl hooting in the tree a stones throw away. Derek sat and leaned against the headstone, something he'd done ever since that day at the end of the summer. It was already mid October, Scott was preoccupied with school and lacrosse, so Derek was alone most of the time, even though he had Peter, but Peter spent his days jabbing sarcastic comments at anything and anyone, and Derek could only take so much sarcasm.
I'm sorry…Derek thought, closing his eyes as a frigid winter breeze ruffled his hair slightly.
D-Derek?
What do you need, Scott? He sighed, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his stomach.
Hey, Sourwolf.
Derek shot straight up; STILES?
Duh, dang, you gotta train me into closing my mind like that, I could barely get through!
Derek laughed once and felt a smile pull at his lips; I'm not surprised, you're emotions are easier to read than a book.
Ha, doubtful. But anyway, I gotta let you know something…I'm kind of stuck…in hell.
Hell? Damn it Peter, why are you always right? Derek cursed.
I was kidnapped Derek. Some stupid idiot of a demon kidnapped my soul and now I'm stuck here until someone gets me out. Thing is though…one of you guys has to die.
Stiles sounded weary, like no one in the pack would be willing to die for him. Derek sighed and nodded, I'll let Scott know…how can I reach you?
I'm in your head now dude, just say my name, unless the demon tortures me to the point where I can't even think…but nah, I should be okay, for a while.
Can you stop being so cryptic? Derek snarled.
Nope, just like you can't help being cute when your mad…Stiles chuckled.
Derek sighed, but smiled; same old Stiles…just a creepier version.
Get out of here Sourwolf…so I can rest in peace, or pieces. Ha ha.