The Apocalypse - Chapter 1 - In The Dark
Beacon Hills Preserve certainly had a sinister look and feel to it during the late hours of the evening. So inviting and strangely beautiful during the day; letting the light and shadows dance across one's skin, but as the light faded and slowly slipped into darkness, a whole new world appeared.
The trees stood utterly still like statues in a living museum where no leaf dared to fall. The full moon gleamed in the pitch black sky of the night and in the distance, owls hooted and screeched loudly; their sound waves bouncing off nearby solid objects, which sent chills trickling down Stiles' spine. The wind wailed between distorted trunks, carrying with it the sickly stench of rotting vegetation. The fog emerging and encircling him made him feel as if he suffered with cataracts. Every sound reverberated around him, making him turn swiftly and uncomfortably in his seat several times, paranoia setting in, forcing him to check around him over and over. The contorted trees made eerie shadows on the ground as he watched dancing silhouettes of slightly swaying branches from the relative sanctuary of the Jeep. Still he was unsettled, uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one side to another.
Stiles instantly regretted volunteering to stay in the Jeep. Isolation causes one's mind to wander, and he's already had several sleepless nights, so his insomnia was beginning to get visibly obvious, especially when Scott was in his presence. Of course, it wasn't just the lack of sleep that bothered Stiles; it was his anxiety issues, mild panic attacks and the overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen…soon.
Stiles stared blankly through his windscreen, cheek resting on his fist, oblivious that some kind of imprint would be left there overtime, as his eyelids suddenly felt incredibly heavy. However, Stiles restrained himself. It wasn't just his hyper-active personality that made it almost impossible for him to settle, he had suffered lack of sleep ever since he saw everyone he cared about under threat or worse, severely injured. Especially when Stiles knew he could have prevented it, he knew he could've saved them somehow.
Haunting memories clouded his mind all at once, such as when he witnessed Matt strike his father, all the time Stiles was still suffering from paralysis, crawling towards him with whatever strength he could muster, hand reaching out to him, even though he knew it wouldn't be taken. Another being when Lydia had fallen victim to Peter Hale – He had cried out to her, demanding her to run. But he arrived too late. Stiles remembered how nauseous he felt when the thought of her either dying, or turning invaded his skull. And then, there was Scott. Truth be told, Scott wouldn't have to deal with anything werewolf – related if Stiles hadn't have persuaded Scott to accompany him on his search for the mysterious body found deep in the woods. Which had turned out to be Derek's sister; Laura Hale. A small part of Stiles loathed himself for that. Curiosity had always got him into danger, and that night had confirmed it all.
Since then, Scott was his one priority, to insure he was safe at whatever cost. But of course, Scott had other priorities; the safety and security of – pretty much every citizen in Beacon Hills.
Stiles huffed in aggravation as he checked his wrist watch. 12:13am. Already, he had been sat here, hopeless and hapless, arguing with himself and over analysing for just under 2 hours! Stiles began to get doubtful of Scott's intentions. Stiles didn't know what to think, really. He just had a foreboding feeling about the whole thing.
There was a sudden crash above him, snapping him out of his train of thoughts. Stiles instinctively froze; immobilised with fear, as continuous thuds occurred from the roof. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was advancing towards him, until it came to a halt, just above the windscreen. Heavy, ragged breaths invaded Stiles' ears as the creature inhaled and exhaled slowly. Stiles listened intently to the creature's movement.
Oh my God, Oh my God.
"Oh My God!" Stiles whispered as the creature dived onto the front hood with a loud clash of the metal which reverberated around him. He instantly closed his eyes. He didn't know why particularly, it was just a reflex. But Stiles could feel eyes on him, as though they were staring straight into his soul, or maybe just observing their defenceless prey, shivering and whimpering at their mercy. Either way, Stiles' body betrayed him as his eyes slowly peeled open and instantly met the familiar shade of chocolaty brown eyes.
He suddenly had an urge to throw something at the windscreen.
"Dammit, Scott! Don't do that!" he cursed as he lunged forward to smack the windscreen in front of him, only to cringe as the pain rushed over his hand a few seconds later.
"Sorry…" Scott panted, trying to sound as sincere as possible, although Stiles didn't look particularly convinced. Scott knew he wasn't an idiot, he probably noticed the quirk of his lips. It had been years since they could play simple pranks on each other, the years where they wouldn't have to deal with not just the strain of school but combined with certain werewolf - related urgencies.
Stiles huffed loudly; steaming up the windscreen slightly, as he gestured to the passenger seat empty next to him, pointing with rigid and swift actions. "Get in here" he said sharply, waiting until Scott obeyed and climbed in before he continued. "So, did you find anything?"
"No, nothing. There's no sign of Derek – I mean, I didn't catch a scent or-"
"Wait, not even at his house?" Stiles interrupted severe confusion and disbelief evident in his tone.
"Stiles, I checked there like, three times already and I still got nothing. He rarely goes there anymore anyway, not since the County took it over, and his loft is completely cleared out"
Stiles' brow creased as he turned his attention to the sinister woods before them. So many thoughts were rattling around in his head that he felt the throbbing sensation; urgent, lingering questions that demanded answers, needed answers. If there was one thing Stiles hated, it was being ignorant of certain things; and probably the constant feeling of hopelessness, when trying to find the reasons behind the mysterious killings that seemed to be happening more frequently in Beacon Hills. But, for once, Stiles wanted to have the information and essentials necessary for this situation, especially to his advantage; he somehow wanted that surge and foreign sense of power.
"What? His loft is - "
"Cleared out." Scott repeated.
"So, what? He's just…disappeared?" Stiles suddenly asked, not really expecting an answer.
"I don't know" Scott murmured, eyes flickering from one object to the next in front of him.
"Great. So, plan to recruit Derek's help backfired then? Which leaves us with…nope, pretty much the same, if not less, amount of information we have already."
Scott grimaced. He may not share a close brotherly bond with Derek, but that was no reason why he wasn't concerned about him. Though he's probably more concerned than he should be, since their relationship is past complicated. Scott and Stiles had already asked Isaac whether he'd found any traces of him, but clearly Derek was being evasive, since his own pack members had no idea where he'd gone. They tried calling him several times, which Stiles seemed to complain about, saying it was 'wasting credit that could potentially save a life.' It finally dawned on them that maybe Derek didn't want to be found, or someone that had possibly captured him didn't want him to be found.
"So…you got a Plan B?" Stiles asked.
"…No" Scott murmured, avoiding eye contact, like trying to hide his shame. Although Stiles didn't know what Scott should be particularly ashamed about - it's not like it was his fault that Derek had apparently dropped everything and fled.
"Oh, good, we're progressing then."
"Do you?" Scott quipped.
Stiles paused, shooting a look at Scott of disbelief, hoping it would convince Scott that he wasn't completely blank for ideas. Although, seeming he had paused for too long, Scott rolled his eyes at him. "…Alright, I haven't either, but I – I don't know, I - say we just take it into our own hands for now. I mean the werewolves seem oblivious to what's really going on, and if they don't know, then this- this might actually be beyond them."
"But we can't do this alone, Stiles. We need an expert-" Scott protested.
"Yes, thank you, I know–"
"And Derek's-"
"Yeah, well, clearly we're not going to get his help on this one are we? Not when he's probably miles away from here already. I'm just saying that we do a little research and deal with this ourselves for now. Derek probably has his hands full; Boyd and Erica are still missing, you know. Why else would he just leave?"
"No, Stiles. We can't risk more innocent people getting hurt." Scott said sharply, making sure to address the urgency in his tone.
"Well then… what do you want to do?" Stiles sighed.
"I'll keep a look out for Derek, while we investigate this –"
"Yeah, usually when you say we, you mean me." Stiles turned his attention completely to Scott, cocking his eyebrow.
"…Maybe your dad's come across this before, and there could've been incidents like these across the years too. Come on, you're the smart one-"
"Oh, well- I mean- hang on! I know what you're doing here. Compliments won't get you-" Stiles began to protest, only to pause at the sight of Scott's worst puppy-eyed impression ever, he seriously wondered how huge his eyes could get. Stiles had become accustomed to Scott's methods of persuasion years ago, but this stare he was giving him, could kill. He wondered if he had gotten away with things with his mother, just by giving her this purely innocent stare.
"Ugh, alright, fine. I'm up for another few sleepless nights." Stiles chuckled humourlessly," You're a manipulative jerk, you know that?" Stiles huffed, as he started the Jeep.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Scott smirking to himself, although he wasn't doing a good job at hiding it. Stiles couldn't help but smirk back, which was then followed by a short chuckle. He didn't know where that came from, and it certainly wasn't the situation to laugh about, but it passed his lips before he could prevent it.
Scott couldn't help but falter his gaze on Stiles. He hadn't laughed in what seemed like forever and he was prepared to enjoy every second of it.
After what seemed like an hours drive, the Jeep finally escaped the Preserve and began the route to Scott's house. Stiles waved him a quick goodbye with a forced smile before driving to his house, hoping, no, praying, that his father wasn't awake, or waiting outside the door for him. He would be dead, otherwise. Good luck trying to explain where you've been for hours, Stiles thought.
He drove the jeep into the garage, and crept his way through the house, cursing profanities under his breath every time he shifted his weight onto another creaky floorboard.
When he finally reached his bedroom undetected - for now - he collapsed onto it with a graceless fall, spreading out his legs and arms, staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember the days when all the werewolf situations hadn't infiltrated his life. Life was so much simpler back then. What's worse is being involved in all this, and just being a weak, worthless, fragile human, someone who can't hold their own ground when they would have to. Really though, what worth was he?
Stiles avoided a self-analysis and focused on the real priorities. Like all these mysterious killings and unnatural activities that are occurring; like the animal attacks. And where Derek had gone, but more importantly, why? Especially when his disappearance was noticed during the time these killings were being reported. Not that Stiles suspected him; he highly doubted Derek was out on a killing spree, but he must've had some sort of involvement to drop everything and go, without anyone knowing. Derek had not long ago stated he required help with the Alpha Pack, Stiles quoted; "With all the help I can get". Stiles and Scott planned to help him in any way they could, but if Derek truly needed assistance, then why hasn't he had contact with them since, and now, he's disappeared?
Something was suspicious about that, this mysterious stunt Derek's pulled would not go amiss. Even though Scott was solely focused on searching for Derek, he wasn't exactly the main problem here. The killings are happening more frequently now, and they still have no promising information about what to do about it or how to prevent it, if it was even possible.
Stiles groaned loudly as he rolled onto his front and shoved his face into the pillow. Everything was so messed up at the moment he needed a clear head to think - which he planned to do tomorrow. Stiles knew Scott would be flooding with unanswered questions and concerns that had obviously been eating at him the whole night, and it was essential that he had a decent slumber before dealing with that.
Stiles had been so deprived of sleep recently that he lacked the energy to actually undress himself. Screw it. He'll just make sure that his dad doesn't find out in the morning.
Sheriff Stilinski frowned with displeasure and shook his head slightly as he observed his son, who was still asleep on his ruffled bed. Damn, he knew teenagers were scruffy at this age, but this was another thing entirely. One side of him wanted to leave Stiles be, since he had noticed how much lack of sleep he had. It was evident and at such contrast to his usual hyper-active behaviour. However, the other side of him overpowered his sympathies and made it his duty to get Stiles to school.
"Stiles." He said sharply.
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
"Stiles" He tried again, a little more forced this time, but Stiles didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence. "Stiles!"
Stiles woke with a start, his entire body jerking with surprise as he frantically scanned his room for any evidence to his disturber, only to lock eyes with his dad, lurking in the doorway, wearing a face with a combination of disappointment and slight concern.
"Shouldn't you be at school right now?"
Stiles' brow furrowed with confusion as he turned to look at his clock. Oh, great, he'd overslept. "Oh, crap." Stiles groaned as he threw his head back, before hurling himself off the bed to his drawers, intending to change out of last night's clothes. It would be incredibly unhygienic if he turned up at school in the same clothes, especially the ones he had been running around in last night.
The Sheriff watched him intently as Stiles' rummaged through his drawers, trying to find something decent, that doesn't scream; I had approximately five minutes to get ready. Still, he could not falter his curious gaze from him, observing Stiles' shoulders tense up when he suddenly paused. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He asked carefully.
Stiles tensed again, but pulled out his favourite plaid shirt and threw it on his bed, trying to look indifferent. "No, dad. It's nothing, alright?" Stiles knew he didn't sound very convincing, but what else could he do, he'd already lied to his father's face too many times.
"Have you been…feeling alright recently?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." Stiles still had his back to him, pulling on his jeans and shoes as quick as possible. The sooner Stiles was out of the house and at school, the better.
"Stiles-"he began to protest.
"Dad! I said I'm fine…" Stiles swiftly turned to meet his gaze; a silent beg for him to stop asking questions, especially ones that were forbidden for him to answer. Stiles couldn't deny that the wave of guilt that hit him was crippling; he hadn't meant to snap at him. He just needed to conclude the discussion, and restrained himself from giving his dad an insight of his inner thoughts.
Stiles' dad averted his eyes and slowly nodded in defeat as he tried to find suitable words to form. "Alright. Just…get to school, okay?"
Stiles mumbled back, as he sighed harshly, raking his hand through his hair. That could've gone better, he thought. Now Stiles just needed to explain why he was incredibly late to Mr Harris' chemistry lesson. Yeah, that'll go down well. I'll have detention either way.
Scott shifted awkwardly in his seat, twiddling his thumbs. He kept glancing in the empty seat next to him now and then, as if Stiles would just…appear the next time he looked. It wasn't like him to be late. Stiles may not be one of their favourite students, but he was very precise, organised and punctual.
"Scott?" A voice whispered behind him. He turned to meet Allison. "Where's Stiles?"
"I don't know." Scott replied, shaking his head slightly before staring out the window, looking out for any sign of Stiles. Maybe he chose to have the day off, 'cause he made it home last night. Didn't he? Or maybe just running late? It's not like he's disappeared too, right?
"Mr McCall, if you see something exceptionally intriguing outside rather than in here, perhaps you would prefer to leave. You're here to learn, not gawp out of windows." Mr Harris spoke assertively, hands on hips and head held high - his usual smug, arrogant and snide-self.
Some of the other students sniggered quietly amongst themselves, obviously imagining what Scott's face might've looked like. In a way, he was glad someone snapped him out of it; it would've probably been posted online or something. "Sorry" Scott mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.
Suddenly, there were heavy footfalls coming down the corridor and approaching their classroom, as a student came tumbling through the door; items cascading out of their bag as they swiftly made their way to their seat.
"Sorry I'm late" Stiles panted, retrieving his equipment that had fallen out of his bag, before slumping into his seat, hand running down his face as he exhaled deeply. He was instantly met with a stare from Harris that confirmed that he was about to get a lecture.
"Mr Stilinski. 15 minutes late. You must have a very good excuse to get you out of detention with me afterschool. However, even if you do actually have a valid reason, I still intend to keep you behind.
"Not really…" Stiles grumbled.
"Good. You know how much your voice triggers my violent impulses. An hour afterschool, Stilinski. Make up for lost time"
Stiles sighed, aggravated, raking a hand through his messed up hair. "Great."
"Dude, where have you been?" Scott asked urgently, leaning over to him.
"Look, nowhere. I just overslept, alright?" Stiles replied.
"Stiles, you look like hell-"
"Cheers, man-"
"Did you get any sleep at all?" Scott asked.
Stiles knew he probably didn't look pretty right now. He could feel how baggy his eyes were. He grimaced and clutched his head with his free hand as the dull thuds of an inevitable migraine started banging against his skull.
"Stiles, why didn't you tell us you had trouble sleeping?"
"I didn't- it's probably just too much Adderall or something-"
"Stiles." Scott grew slightly impatient.
"Look. I just wanna get this psychopath, okay? So forgive me if I'm a little determined." Stiles never broke eye contact with him as he spoke calmly. "So, are we meeting after school as usual, or are you suddenly getting cold feet?
Derek had been pacing for a good, solid hour, with nothing but the company of his psychotic uncle lurking in the background. Derek had reluctantly asked him to meet him. He would never invite Peter to be in his presence unless it was necessary, and right now, the topic of the Alpha pack was certainly a topic to discuss, since he still had no indication of Boyd and Erica's whereabouts.
"We still don't know what they're planning…or where they're keeping Boyd and Erica" Derek said simply, not expecting a reply from Peter at that point.
"Well, we know they're after you…" Peter replied, indifferent.
Derek turned and scowled at him, arms folded, shoulders tense as he inhaled and exhaled sharply.
"You think there's more than just wanting you in their pack?" Peter asked.
"There has to be. They have to be plotting something else."
Peter shifted his weight as he gave Derek a quizzical look, mouth opening and closing as he couldn't find the words he planned to say. "Well, I'd say the only person - apart from the Alphas themselves- who possibly knows their intentions, would be their emissary."
"Morrell. You plan an interrogation?"
Peter nodded. "However, I doubt we'll be able to catch her alone. She and the Alphas seem to be practically joined at the hip. Plus we don't even know where she or the Alphas are located."
"Then what?"
"Then we simply drop in on a familiar face, who should know the whereabouts of his own sister, unlike others..." Peter smirked. "We might even learn something new to use to our advantage"
"Fine. We pay a visit tomorrow at the veterinary. But I'm doing the talking." Derek said sharply as he fixed him a look, in which Peter threw his hands up in submission, lowering his head.
"Of course. You are the Alpha." Peter mocked as he walked passed an aggravated Derek, eyes still trained on him as he left.
When Peter had disappeared, Derek absentmindedly glanced up at the illuminated moon, small layers of cloud lingering around it, occasionally blocking out its silver rays reaching down to touch any obstacle it may encounter. Derek was filled with anxiety. He loathed being ignorant of certain things, he loathed how lack of information he and Peter. Not to mention how much he loathed that he had apparently become so desperate, he would call upon his arrogant uncle. It had crossed his mind to seek help elsewhere, but the number of people who could actually help him out was limited.
Deucalion was always ten steps in front of them all. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of sick intentions he had in mind; he'd accepted to expect the worst.
Derek had overheard a conversation between Scott and Stiles that there were many killings occurring recently. All bodies found in the same way. Head bashed in, strangled and throat slashed. Apparently, they had started happening when the Alpha pack had announced themselves; so Derek had a strong suspicion that they were behind this. Again, uncertainty was not good, especially on Derek.
Suddenly, it seemed like someone was approaching, and Derek cursed at himself for being so preoccupied, before disappearing into the heavy fog which had suddenly invaded Beacon Hills.
Stiles woke with a start, he bolted upright, his chest heaving as he panted frantically, his body slicking with sweat as he tried to make his lungs work again. He had another nightmare…to be honest; they weren't helping his sleeping patterns at all. Stiles couldn't exactly when he had drifted off.
Suddenly, there was a slight knock on the door.
Stiles groaned as he dragged his hand down his tired, sweaty face. "Yeah? Dad? What's up?"
His bedroom door slowly opened, and Scott peeked round the corner. Stiles turned, rubbing his eyes before blinking forcefully several times as his vision was slightly blurred. However, he did not expect Scott to be lingering in the doorway, wearing a weary smile. Nope. Definitely wasn't expecting that.
"Hey"
"Hey man. What uh- I wasn't expecting visits at this time."
"Your dad let me in. I swear I didn't climb through any open windows." Scott smiled.
"You know that's probably for the best. You do know my dad has a shotgun, right? It'll end pretty badly." Stiles scoffed, earning him a fond smile from Scott, which faded quickly. A little too quickly for Stiles. "You okay, Scott?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm totally fine. I was just-I was just going to ask you the same thing." The concern was obvious in his voice.
"Me? Yeah. I'm fine man. I'm just a little thrown by all these random killings that are happening, seems the creepy and bizarre never really leave us, do they?" Stiles smirked, raising his eyebrows.
"Stiles. I know you're still worried about Heather disappearence, despite the fact you've never brought her up at all recently, you're not getting sleep at all - seriously dude, if there's more that's bothering you, tell me. I don't want any more secrets. You trust me don't you?" Scott's voice broke on the last few words and he refused to break eye contact with Stiles until he gave him an answer.
"Scott, of course I trust you. You're my best friend-"
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Scott, it's not like I'm hiding anything serious. Alright, yeah, I've been feeling crappy recently with all this anxiety along with an overwhelming feeling that everything is just gonna get worse. With everything that's going on currently, I wasn't exactly a priority, you know? You didn't need to start fretting over me, that's why I didn't tell you. To be honest I'm a little envious of how freakin' well you're handling this." Stiles exhaled loudly, rubbing the back of his neck as he awaited Scott's reaction.
"Stiles, you're always one of my priorities. Too many people are getting killed, you think I'm not gonna pay extra attention to my friends now. You should've told me, man. I feel like I'm making you exceed your limits all the time."
"Look, I wanna help, you know. But I seriously can't do the things you, Isaac, Allison or any of the others can do."
"We'll get through this" Scott placed a gentle hand on Stiles' shoulder as Stiles lowered his head, clearly not wanting to obtain eye contact.
The silence between them was soon broken when the Sherriff could be heard from downstairs, clearly in a rush when Stiles and Scott heard something clatter. Stiles instantaneously hurled himself off his bed and scrambled for the staircase, calling down to his father.
"Dad! Dad, what is it?" Stiles blurted out as he followed his father and watched him put on his uniform.
"Stiles, go back upstairs" the Sherriff pointed towards the staircase, and turned his back to Stiles.
"No, Dad. You got to tell what's going on"
"Stiles-"
"Dad!" Stiles knew he was being stubborn and he had to forcefully discard the guilt that washed over him as he snapped at his father. It was for his safety.
Sherriff Stilinski's eyes, full of concern and uncertainty, roamed Stiles' tense body. There was something else though in his father's eyes though. Like he knew he was going to say something he was going to regret, something devastating. A knowing look that Stiles loathed, because he knew that whatever his dad was hesitating to tell him, it was going to have an effect on him. It made Stiles all the more nervous.
"They found another body…with the same injuries" He said quietly and softly, eyes fixated on his son.
"Wh-what?" Stiles said weakly. "Dad, tell me it's not-" He slowly trailed off as he couldn't bear to finish his sentence. Stiles' blood suddenly turned cold as a shudder vibrated through his entire body as he continued to stare at his dad in horror.
"They've already identified the body…I'm sorry…"
Stiles' heart sank deep as his jaw slacked; his mouth gaping and quivering as hot tears began to build behind his lowered eyelids. Stiles' entire body was trembling violently, his legs turned to jelly as they seemed to struggle supporting him as he clenched his fist tight enough until his knuckles turned a sickly pale. It was as though time had suddenly slowed down; he had no acknowledgement of anything else surrounding him as the truth struck him like a punch in the gut. He had just lost a childhood friend, one that he had known pretty much his entire life; one that he had freakin' bubble baths with.
Before Stiles could restrain himself, tear streaks ran down his cheeks and he raised his sleeve to wipe away the evidence as he exhaled harshly. How many more people he cared about were gonna get killed. Stiles suddenly felt a seething rage boil and bubble under his skin as Heather's death confirmed that whoever did this was using a pattern- A sick and twisted pattern. Seriously, he and Scott need to find this killer. Now.
The daylight hours slowly faded into the dark hours of the night in the veterinary. Deaton had just finished with checking over appointments and finally decided to lock up, until he sensed an eerie presence nearby, and he heard the door open. Deaton slowly approached the counter to see Peter standing silently in the waiting room, hands behind his back like an innocent; wearing a small, forced smile. Deaton remained indifferent to Peter's presence.
"Clearly I need to do something about the signs outside. People can't seem to read them." He spoke with his usual, calm tone, along with his stoic demeanour.
"Is it too short notice to make an appointment?" Peter asked as he eyed behind Deaton, to where Derek had slowly emerged from the shadows.
"We're gonna talk" Derek put simply, daring Deaton to protest; his soul-piercing eyes still trained on him.
"Well that depends entirely on the subject" Deaton stated, folding his arms in the process.
"We're in need of finding that sister of yours…" Peter replied, his voice assertive as he approached Deaton, placing his arms against the counter and leaning in slightly. He was oblivious to the scowl he was receiving behind him, as if Derek was trying to burn a hole into his body.
"And you're gonna help us" Derek said stiffly; focusing his attention back to Deaton. This wasn't a question. It was a demand. Derek was not planning to leave without uncovering any information.
"What makes you think I would know of Morrell's location? I am not in league with her"
"Look. It's been a long day, and so far, we have no information on our side. We'd like to know who's committing these murders and why …" Peter sighed exasperatedly as he clutched the counter tight enough that his veins were clearly visible.
"Murders? " Deaton emphasised as his brow furrowed.
"Yes. Murders. Seems the animal attacks were just the beginning. However these killings were obviously planned and there's no coincidence that they each have an identical set of injuries. And they've recently discovered another body…that already makes three."
"Are you implying that Deucalion and his pack are responsible?" Deaton asked.
"This is the work of a homicidal, mass murderer, I'd say Deucalion fits that description" Peter smirked. "Though as much as I hate to agree, it does seem a bit conspicuous, even for Deucalion."
Deaton glanced at Derek. "His intentions revolve solely around you and Scott. I doubt he would make such an effort to murder random people for no purpose. What same injuries did each of the victims have?"
Derek hesitated at first. "According to Scott and Stiles," he began, inhaling sharply, "Each had a blow to the head, a mark where they'd been strangled, before their throats were slashed."
"Fortunately, I am familiar with this type of behaviour; it resembles a ritual." Deaton silently wished he had to inform this to Scott first. "In ancient times, certain emissaries – or more commonly known as the druids- were corrupted by darkness. They believed that committing sacrifices would aid them in certain ways, such as to gain power against their enemies. It was their way of declaring war."
"Essentially, how many sacrifices?" Peter asked. Excessive- beyond the usual
"Limitless, it was until they believed they were strong enough to withstand them."
"…Seems a bit excessive…" Peter mumbled. Derek and Deaton both glared at him, as he cleared his throat. "So, it's likely an emissary is declaring war upon the Alpha pack? Morrell?" He titled his head.
"No. She wouldn't be so foolish. Any small suspicion from Deucalion; he wouldn't hesitate to remove her. And I doubt she has any real quarrel with them"
"She still might know something-" Derek spoke up, catching Deaton's attention.
"I can't guarantee that-" Deaton interrupted, raising his eyebrows.
"So we need to find her..." Derek said sharply, before heading out without another word, brushing past Peter as he did do.
Peter's senses confirmed that Derek was definitely agitated and tense. The stench was all over him and overpowering, as the thuds of Derek's increasing heartbeat filled his ears. Peter couldn't help but smirk. He definitely wasn't someone who tolerated being in the dark. Since he and Derek arrived, they've had nothing but uncertainty. They were just going to go with instinct, since they hadn't really uncovered the killer. It was still debatable. Peter smiled at Deaton forcefully before following Derek outside.
Deaton watched him warily as he braced his hands on the counter in front of him, all his thoughts rattling around in his mind.
Once Peter made it outside, he could faintly see Derek's figure in the fog. "What do you suggest we do?" Peter asked.
Derek's shoulders tensed as he took a sharp intake of breath. Peter recognised this behaviour on him; this meant he was reluctant to admit that he was clueless.
Derek still had his back to him, refusing to show that he was in a state of turmoil; although his too long of a silence was confirmation to Peter. "I don't know…" Derek mumbled breathlessly. He finally turned to face Peter, but he was met with empty space. Typical, Derek thought. He huffed in aggravation as he shook his slightly. Now what was he to do? Continue searching for Morrell? Should he seek help from Scott and Stiles?
An ominous wind began to stir, as threatening clouds closed in on the dark velvety sky. Without any warning, thunder rolled and crackled like deafening wails. The dreary atmosphere quickly turned into a raging storm; the sky was ablaze with lightening, sheets of rain slicing the damp air and beating down flamboyant trees nearby, while the gusting wind howled and wailed. The winds were driving the rain faster, harder and stronger than it had ever before and Derek's sensitive ears clearly heard the rain pelting against window panes and bouncing off the roof; quickly forming puddles and streams that travelled through the streets. Derek glanced above him; the heavy ran splattering against his face as he focused his attention on the sinister moon that was hidden behind the presaging clouds that continued to close in. Anxiety began to build in Derek as he remembered that the Lunar Eclipse was near. He was running out of time; precious, valuable time that he should have spent pursuing the Alpha pack. It was beginning to feel more and more like the entire world was against him.
Derek froze when he sensed a presence behind him, watching his every move as he listened intently to their heartbeat; it was slow and steady. His claws emerged slightly, but only as a precaution, as he slowly turned to face them.
"Heard you were looking for me?" Morrell stood a few metres away, arms folded, eyes trained on him.
"You were listening" Derek accused, his jaw tightening as he glared at her suspiciously.
"Yes. I don't know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I can't help you-"
"What do you know?" He asked stiffly, ignoring her previous comment.
"I know nothing-"
"You're lying "
"I don't " Morrell spat, feeling anger rise up inside her. "I know nothing more than you do. All I know is that Deucalion wants you and Scott in his pack - he wants perfection."
Derek didn't look particularly convinced, as his entire body tensed. He had listened to her heartbeat. It was perfectly steady much to his distain, but he refused to accept that she was completely oblivious about the whole thing.
"…And he's not the one responsible for the killings"
Derek's eyes turned to serpentine slits. "You know who it is"
"No. What's happening is beyond my knowledge; Deucalion and the others were only recently made aware. Like I said, I cannot help you."
"Why should I believe you?"
"What does it matter whether you believe me or not; it's the truth and your still not any closer from uncovering the real killer." Morrell shifted slightly before locking eyes with him again. "I suggest whatever it is you intend to do, you act fast, as it's likely they will strike again, and I'm not just implying the killer." She spoke assertively before walking off in the other direction.
That left Derek back to square one again. Morrell was no use at all, even though it was obvious she knew more than she was letting on. Derek growled lowly as he raked his hand through his wet hair. He knew she was right though, Deucalion and the Alpha's were not going to stay silent for much longer.
The following morning, Stiles had found himself collapsed in a heap, lying on his front, on his ruffled bed; he dragged his arm out from underneath him, to find it incredibly numb. His eyes were still sore and possibly still red.
Hearing about Heather's death yesterday; he tried so hard not to believe it, he hoped it was some sort of nightmare he was trapped in, it had sounded so absurd, however when his dad knocked gently on his door, he was sucked back into the crushing reality that it had actually happened.
Sherriff Stilinski opened the door ajar and peered 'round. "Stiles? I have to go to the station-"
"Yeah, I know." Stiles interrupted weakly, burying his head in his arm again.
"You know, you don't have to go to school today if you don't want to"
"I know" Stiles mumbled.
"Alright. Then, uh- I'll see you later this evening then…" He glanced at his son with such concern, silently pleading for Stiles to look at him, however, Stiles was in deep mourn and the last thing he would want is for someone to fuss over him. His dad left the door open before walking down the stairs, heading for the station.
Stiles lifted his head slightly when he heard his dad leave. As much as Stiles wanted to be around his other friends right now, another side of him wanted to be alone. He was so torn. But what could he do to help when he was in this emotional state. Stiles winced as the crippling pain of cramp struck his legs as he shifted slightly.
There was a sudden sound of movement in the direction of his window, making Stiles' head snap up; and grimace with the slow feel of head rush. Stiles groaned, running a hand down his face, before turning as if to shut his window.
Stiles' whole body jolted, scrambling a bit on his bed as he met the intruder; he definitely wasn't expecting to see him here.
"Derek?! What the h- where the hell have you been? Scott and I have been on high alert for you!"
"Away."
"Well, that's not vague at all!" Stiles flailed his arms as he pouted. "Seriously, you had us close to freaking out, and I was on the verge of pulling accusations..."
"It doesn't matter where I've been-"
"Like hell it does-"
"Stiles. I didn't come here to explain my absence to you." Derek huffed as he remained half in his room and half hanging out of the window.
"Then why are you here?" Derek hesitated, opening and closing his mouth as he couldn't find the right words to form, before sighing harshly.
Stiles wondered why he had avoided the question; of course it was Derek's nature to keep himself to himself, but seriously, he needed to get over that, if he and Scott were to assist him in any way. It was like a chess board; Scott and Stiles weren't to be the playing pieces of the game unless they saw the whole board. Stiles remembered saying something similar like that to his father once.
Stiles studied Derek for a moment as they sat there in silence. Derek made no indication to whether he was actually planning to enter Stiles' room or even to continue their conversation. Stiles cleared his throat to break the silence.
"You know dude, you could just use the front door" Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles pointed downstairs.
"This way's quicker." Derek put simply, looking completely unapologetic as he swung his legs over the windowsill and dropped to the floor, far more gracefully than should be possible for someone with an impressive build like Derek for crying out loud.
Derek straightened, chest rising and falling steadily as he locked eyes with Stiles. Derek seemed hesitant for a moment as his curious eyes scanned every inch of Stiles' face. They faltered on his eyes. At a closer inspection, Stiles' eyes looked broken and they were still red. Could he have been crying? Derek suddenly wondered what could have caused Stiles of all people to break down like that. This vibe that Stiles was giving off was less than comforting.
He started to stare at him as though he was a particularly difficult puzzle that he was trying to solve. Maybe staring a little too intently, because he was caught instantly when Stiles looked up.
"What?" Stiles frowned in confusion.
"Nothing…" Derek mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact as he cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Have you found anything?"
"Huh? Found anything for what?"
"For who's behind the killings"
Stiles paused; scanning Derek's face for any indication of how he knew about that. He doesn't remember discussing this with him. Stiles silently wished he could hear people heartbeats like werewolves could, that way he could distinguish what was truth and what was not. They stared at each other for a few stolen seconds, almost challenging each other to talk first. Although it was obvious Derek was being particularly stubborn, Stiles knew he wouldn't explain unless he asked him. So he did.
"How'd you know about that?" Stiles asked, giving him a sceptical glare if he should miss out 'vital' bits.
"Scott talks too loud" Derek said simply.
Heh, of course. Derek was never very forthcoming with explanations. "You mean you used your werewolf senses to eavesdrop. Smooth." Stiles drawled sarcastically. "To answer your question, no, we've got nothing, which is completely incongruous since they've just found another one."
"Another body?"
"Yeah, real kick to the balls" Stiles groaned as he rolled over onto his back, spreading himself out, staring at the ceiling.
Derek approached him slowly, eyes scanning around his room. "Where's Scott?"
Stiles huffed out a laugh, earning him a quizzical look from Derek. As Stiles sat up, he glanced up at Derek, noticing his eyebrows furrow and a 'I don't know where the hell I am ' expression painted across his usual broody face. It humoured Stiles just for a moment, which was what he needed really.
"Dude. We may be on werewolf radar, but it doesn't mean we're off school." He scoffed, stretching his arms.
Derek shifted his weight, before asking Stiles something that had been eating at him a while. "Why are you here then?" Derek asked carefully.
Oh My God. Is that concern I see on our Sourwolf? Stiles couldn't help but linger on that look, especially since it was directed at him; he was going to relish it, memorise it, before it quickly moulded into another frown. Stiles contemplated on telling Derek the truth, about his childhood friend. Although, Stiles knew Derek had other, more important priorities than to listen to this. It was a long shot whether Derek would show some compassion about another human he never met. More like a misfire, Stiles snorted.
"'Cause I feel like hell" Stiles grimaced, trying to sound as convincing as possible, although there was no doubt that Derek could sense that he was lying. He was sincerely surprised when Derek didn't act on it.
Derek knew he was lying. He didn't even need to listen to his heartbeat, it was written all over his face. He realised just how easily he could read Stiles now – as opposed to last year. There was something else that caught his attention, of course he wasn't open about it, but there was some sort of connection between him and Stiles. One that was undeniable and so strong that it was frightening.
"Don't worry, I'll be sure to give Scott your unspoken, irrefutable, brotherly love" Stiles drawled sarcastically cracking a grin.
Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes; it was like second nature around Stiles. He sensed that this conversation had reached its end, as he made his way back to the open window.
"I don't care if it takes us years – even though we probably don't have that long – but we're gonna find whoever doing this and kick their freakin' ass…for several hours in several different ways." Stiles murmured, barely heard by himself, however he knew it was loud enough for Derek.
Derek sighed loudly as he had a sudden feel of determination building up inside him. He stole a quick glance back at Stiles, before leaping out of the window and landing on his feet with a solid thud.
Stiles could faintly hear Derek running, the sound of his feet fading as he distanced himself further and further away from his house with each second. Stiles knew he couldn't mope around for too long. It was only a matter of time before there would be another murder.
Stiles inhaled and exhaled sharply before he hurled himself off of the bed, grabbing his red jacket and dashing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Authors Note:
Finally. I've been wanting to post this Fanfic for ages. I know not much action occurs in this chapter, but it's sort of the build up, especially for the next chapter.
Whoa, I have a few followers/favourites already? Thanks so much guys.
Please give me your feedback, every comment is appreciated 3