A/N - Thank you guys so much for the amazing reviews! They are what keep me writing, and I love you all! Katydid, I appreciate yours especially, its not often I get a review like that! A little warning, there is some VERY dark stuff in this chapter, and I was almost tempted to change the rating. If anyone feels I should do so, let me know in a PM. Remember this IS Kate, and only the very darkest most twisted things can come from her (thanks to a bravura performance by a wondeful actress). I hope you enjoy! Boy-On-Strings, the feeling is definitely mutual! Safe trip to you and Happy holidays to you all!
Kate was dressed all in black, as stunningly beautiful as when she was alive…as when Derek had loved her. The familiar burning of guilt and rage mixing together in his gut came over him.
"I suppose you must be enjoying seeing me suffer. Evil bitch that you were, this must be the closest thing you can get to a Christmas present in Hell." Derek lost all hope that anything could be done to save Stiles at the sight of her…Kate's grin was just too wide.
"Sweetie, no. You think you're suffering now? Oh, baby, I am going to teach you the real meaning of that word."
"I thought that ghosts were supposed to be beyond grudges and pain, Kate."
"And so they are. Unless, like me, one has been very naughty and caused the death of an innocent. Our fate is different…all we are is pain. We get to feel that torment magnified by a thousand for all eternity. Even your stupid uncle only killed lowlifes, so he got away with it. When I took out your family…I guess there were a few innocents in there roasting away like a Thanksgiving turkey. Who knew? Guess I made a teensy little mistake. Now, tonight, we get to see if you will be joining our little club. Stiles was as innocent as they come, Derek baby. And I would love nothing more than to have you down there with me…forever. Now that would be the greatest Christmas present of all time. But enough chit-chat. We have places to go, and people to see."
Kate stepped through front door followed by a wary Derek. They returned once more to the Stilinsky living room. The place was a wreck. Empty bottles of liquor, old pizza boxes and fast food containers littered almost every inch of the floor. The smell was ghastly, and the sight of the Sheriff sent chills down Derek's spine.
Steven Stilinsky had dug out one of the old Christmas trees unused since his wife had died. It looked like it had been decorated by the criminally insane; many of the decorations were shattered or broken but still hung determinedly on every branch. The man had put on a great deal of weight and was dressed in a ratty sweatsuit. Derek noticed a letter from the Mayor informing Steven of his termination as Sheriff of Beacon Hills, alongside a stack of bills with 'Overdue' ink stamps on them. Derek realized that the house had no power; the ex-Sheriff was relying on candlelight. Steven sat in his easy chair with his latest bottle, the framed photograph of the Stilinskys and the McCalls, and Stiles' old teddy bear in his hands. Steven's eyes were red and watery, and it was obvious that he was quite drunk.
Derek and Kate just watched him sit there silently. "What's he doing?" asked Derek quietly, although he knew the man couldn't hear him.
"If I had to guess, I'd say he was working up his nerve." Kate smiled. "Look at that beer gut. No Stiles around to keep him away from the curly fries…and the whiskey. You can guess what happened to the boy in this future, can't you? I don't have to spell it out for you?"
Derek swallowed thickly. "He's d-" He couldn't make himself say the word.
"He's 'duh'? Well that may be true, but he's also DEAD, DEREK! BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!" her sudden scream made him jump backward. Kate laughed at him, and he lunged for her. He didn't need the Alpha to take down the cackling she-demon. Kate sidestepped and backhanded him; Derek's momentum carried him towards Steven in his chair, and before he knew it he found himself on top of the older man, sitting in his lap…but Steven was not solid and so Derek sank into him. Derek roared in fear and outrage as he was suddenly subjected to the anguished torment within Steven Stilinsky. The man was broken, had been since his wife passed but able to keep that fountain of grief bottled within him for the sake of his son. Now, it flowed unimpeded and destroyed everything else within him. That river of despair poured through Derek, he was drowning in it. What made it all the more terrifying was the feeling that he too would shortly be in this state if Stiles didn't survive.
Kate (after a sufficient length of time in her book) pulled him none too gently out of the chair, allowing him to collapse on the floor pale and shocked.
Kate leaned over and licked her lips seductively. "This is just the appetizer baby. The main course is next. But we aren't even done here yet. Look!"
Steven moved a magazine on the coffee table to reveal his service-issue revolver. He placed the picture on the table and stared fixedly at it. One hand clutched the teddy bear tightly, the other brought the gun up so the barrel was placed under his chin. Derek tried to turn away, but Kate gripped the sides of his head.
"No no no, I am here to show you visions, and visions you shall receive!" she hissed in his ear.
Steven pulled the trigger, and Derek watched the top of the ex-Sheriff's head come apart as the bullet tore through it. One of the man's legs shook repeatedly in nerve spasm, and the teddy bear dropped from the lifeless hand. The picture on the coffee table was now covered in gore; blood, bits of bone and hair that rained wetly down on it; young Stiles grinning face and a portion of Scott's gap-toothed smile the only parts still visible. Still the leg continued to spasm, knocking into the coffee table, causing the picture to fall over with a bang that made Derek jump. Three lit candles also fell over and rolled off the edge right to the base of the Christmas tree. The flames whooshed up so quickly that Derek leapt backward though he knew it couldn't burn him.
Kate yawned. "Boring…I am so over burning houses. How about you? Let's go, queerwolf. Let's see what the Pack is up to!"
She covered Derek's eyes, and when she took them away, he saw they were in a warehouse. Signs everywhere read 'Whittemore Construction Enterprises: Building A New Tomorrow…Today!'.
The Pack was gathered around an enormous cement block. Screams came from it…at least two people were at the Pack's mercy.
Lydia and Allison looked terrible. Their hair lay in tangled messes, and their clothing looked like it came from second-hand stores, with rips and patches everywhere. Ditto for the boys; Scott's hair was wildly overgrown, and he sported a pretty thick beard. Danny and Ted looked haunted, and both had tattoos and piercings all over their bodies. Jackson alone looked as presentable as ever…but his expression was colder than Derek had ever seen it.
Two boys were trapped in the cement block, with only their heads visible. The block itself had a raised lip around the edge as if it were meant to be a very shallow pool. Derek looked at the boys; they seemed vaguely familiar. Both were terrified out of their wits.
"Please! We were kids! Let us go! We never meant for anyone to get hurt!" one of the boys shouted, red-faced and near-hysterical.
"Scott, Jackson…come on, man that was so many years ago! I bet he never even remembered it! Come on, man! It was only fucking snow!"
Derek recognized them now. They were the boys that tried to bury Stiles.
"Well this isn't snow, shithead." said Jackson quietly. He pulled a lever. Machinery came to life, and an enormous cement mixer moved slowly into position over the block.
Scott's voice was lifeless. "Thanks, Jack for helping us find them. These are the last two fuckers that messed with Stiles."
"No problem man." Jackson came and stood next to Scott. "Bro…sorry about throwing your inhaler that day. Go ahead. I want you to do it."
Scott looked at Jackson, and nodded. Suddenly, he growled and whipped his clawed hand through the air. Five slashes raked down Jackson's cheek, and he gave a pleasurable growling whine. Scott laughed.
"Masochistic mother-fucker. That might scar you know."
Jackson rubbed his face and looked at the blood on his fingers. "Don't care. That would be a relief."
"Holy shit…what happened to them?" Derek said softly. Kate ignored him, fascinated by the scene before them.
The trapped boys continued to scream as the cement mixer locked into place, a red warning light flashing on the nearby console.
"I want to do it. Stiles loved me. He would want me to do this for him." Lydia growled.
Scott grinned and let her approach the console. She hit the button, and the screams were cut off as the mixer poured liquid cement down on top of the block until it filled up the hollow completely. The boys heads were submerged beneath.
The Pack watched the cement slowly dry for a few minutes before looking around at each other.
"One more party before we go take down Big Bad?" Allison said softly.
"Who's turn is it this time? Jackson was last time…but I think he enjoyed it." Scott asked.
"I want to go. I remember what a stuck-up bitch I was to Stiles. I want you all to make it so that I can never think too much of myself again." Lydia walked over to a corner where an old blood-stained mattress lay on the floor. She started to pull her clothes off, and the others began to do the same. They shifted fully and slowly approached her.
"I think that's enough for this scene. I don't want to have to change the rating!" Kate said blithely. She pulled the stunned Derek away from the increasingly disturbing noises coming from the far end of the warehouse.
They stepped outside into the cold. Derek looked at the warehouse and his mind skittered away from what was going on inside. He had nothing to say. He was absolutely speechless.
"See Derek, how everything we do affects the lives of so many? See how you thought you were the sole character in your own personal story? You didn't realize that everyone has stories…and everyone is in a different place within them. Some are at the beginning, some…are very close to the end. You ended Stiles' story without even getting to know it all, and you completely changed the plot of the stories of those sickos in there. All you cared about was 'poor Derek' and look what happened!"
Derek had no answer. He felt carved out and hollow. "Please Kate. No more."
Kate laughed. "Come on, you know those are my absolute favorite words to hear, ever. Especially from you. We have one last stop, and then I drop you off. I like to think of this as 'the dessert'.
Once again she covered his eyes. They were back in the Hale house, only at some point in the future. The house was a wreck much like Steven's had been, down to the smashed Christmas tree and presents (now under a thick layer of dust). Derek watched, stunned, as a double of himself wandered aimlessly around the house. His future self was wearing Stiles jacket, though it was obviously too small for him. Future-Derek looked around with a haunted expression, then sniffed the air. Leaning down he began to crawl on all fours like a feral animal until he came upon a necklace buried in the dust. It was the necklace that he had yanked off the boys neck that fateful day. Future-Derek studied it, noting the drop of blood on the clasp were it had scratched Stiles. Derek watched himself with sick fascination put the chain into his mouth and suck on it until the blood was gone. Then he went over to the smashed Christmas tree and began to paw through the presents until he found one labeled "To Derek, with Love, Stiles."
Future-Derek tore open the package which turned out to be a box with a DVD inside and a framed picture. Stiles had done some amazing photo-shop work. An old picture of the Hale family that had gone missing (apparently purloined by Stiles) now featured a gathering that had never happened in real life. The Hales stood in front of the old home during a long ago Christmas, the house festooned with lights. Standing next to them were images of the entire Pack, along with Mrs. McCall, Steven and Stella Stilinsky, and right next to the 12 year old Derek in the picture was a grinning 12 year old Stiles. If Derek didn't know better, he would have thought the picture was authentic. Engraved in the frame along the bottom were the words in elegant scripted lettering: "The Most Perfect Christmas Ever".
A low growling painful moan-howl came from both Derek and Future-Derek at the same time. Kate rolled her eyes. "Werewolf angst…in stereo."
Future-Derek got up and staggered over to the wall unit that contained his television. He popped in the DVD and sat down on the two-seater couch he once shared with Stiles and watched the scene that appeared. It was from the Christmas where Stiles was six. He had just given his parents the picture.
"Hang it up! Hang it up!" shouted Stiles.
A brick suddenly smashed the television screen. Both Dereks looked around and saw the Pack standing in the foyer. All of them had blood on their faces and hands.
"You heard Stiles. Let's hang him up!" growled Scott. The other five rushed Future-Derek and grabbed him, tearing off the jacket. The Alpha did not struggle, just let the Betas do what they would. Scott pulled out a long coiled length of rope from a ratty old bag labeled "Stiles' Bag of Spectacular Christmas Surprises!" and began to unwind it. Scott didn't seem to notice that his hands were smoking as he did so.
"Got a real special Christmas present for you, Alpha my Alpha! This rope has got all the good stuff. Aconite flowers, Mountain Ash splinters and silver wire all rolled into one! Stiles once asked me if I thought you were descended from Nathan Hale, and shared that you were 'pretty well-hung'. Well, wait until we get through with you."
Scott got the rope unwound, the end already fashioned into a noose. He wrapped it around the still not-struggling neck of Future-Derek and began to drag him up the stairs. The Alpha strangled in the rope, eyes bulging but still making no real move to free himself. Kate pushed Derek up the stairs following after the Pack until they reached Derek's bedroom. Scott tied the other end of the rope expertly to the balcony and the Pack helped him heave the doomed Alpha onto the railing.
"You know sweetie, I think for this part you really need a front row seat." whispered Kate. She shoved Derek into his own future body, and if Derek thought being in the Sheriff's head was bad…being in the head of his future self was absolutely unbearable. The misery and self-hatred were living creatures that tore at his soul. No wonder there was no struggle. He was surprised Future-Derek wasn't thanking them for their mercy.
The Pack pushed as one and Derek felt the vertigo of falling followed by the bone wrenching snap of his neck as the rope pulled taut. Present-Derek continued falling while his future self remained swinging from the end of the rope, landing on the front steps of the house. He gazed up at his own swinging corpse. Scott looked down, his amber eyes flashing red as he absorbed Derek's Alpha position in the Pack.
Derek stood up and entered the house again as the Pack descended the stairs and took cans of gasoline from the enormous bag that once held presents. They poured it all over the drapes and wood furniture while Scott pulled a Zippo lighter out of his pocket.
They filed out of the house as Scott flicked the lighter and tossed it on the couch. Flames roared up, and the very first thing to be consumed was the photo that Stiles had given Derek.
Derek watched the faces blacken. He turned dead eyes to Kate who was now descending the stairs.
"All right. You've shown me everything. Let me go find him." his voice was dull and lifeless.
"ANOTHER burning house? Can you ever escape them, sweetie? Well, I'm sorry to say honey but there is nothing you can do. He's already dead. This future is already written. All you need to do when I send you back is kill yourself. The Pack won't feel the need to go vigilante and you get to be dead with your lost honey. The best part is that he'll forgive you, so don't hesitate to go to him. Ready?"
Derek nodded.
Kate snapped her fingers and the flames disappeared, the house returning to the state Derek left it in.
She had the coiled rope from the future in her hands and handed it silently to Derek.
"It's a little against the rules…but here you are. Don't say I've never done anything for you!" Kate smiled and patted Derek on the back.
The clock struck three. Derek went to his bedroom and opened the door to the balcony easily. He tied the rope much as Scott had done and draped it around his own neck, his flesh burning from the contact. He walked over to the balcony and looked down, closing his eyes.
'Stiles. Please be there for me.' he thought fiercely. He leaned forward.
"Just what do you think you are doing Mr. Hale?" came a familiar voice. Derek turned to see Stella Stilinsky standing there in her Christmas apron.
"I'm…uh, I'm…" he stammered.
"You're being a horse's ass is what you're doing. Why would I have shown you all of that if I wanted you to kill yourself?"
"Let him do it, you old cow! This is my time with him!" called Kate, furious.
Stella slowly turned to regard the other spirit. "Kate, is it? You're one of the lost souls aren't you? You tried to kill Derek here, who my son happens to love and burned his family…my friends…alive? In a way, you're responsible for all of this, aren't you?" Stella walked towards Kate who backed up swiftly. "Can I give you a small piece of advice?" Derek heard Stella say.
There was a roaring explosion from within the room. Derek tore the rope off and went inside. The room was untouched, but Kate was gone, except for a small pile of black clothing on the floor.
"Don't do that again." said Stella softly. She looked at Derek. "Now this is breaking a major rule." Stella faced Derek's clock. Pointing her finger at it, she began to slowly twirl it in a counter-clockwise fashion. The hands of the clock followed suit, spinning backward until it was just after Derek had gone to bed.
"I wish I could take you back to before he ran away, but my power only extends this far. You get in trouble with grandfather paradoxes and all of that, a terrible mess to unwind. Now, I am giving you a second chance, Mr. Hale. I want you find my son, save his life, and if you ever make him even the slightest bit unhappy again, I will come back and give you an experience that will make the Amityville Horror look like a Scooby-Doo cartoon. Am I understood?"
Derek nodded dumbly.
"Good. Now get in bed and close your eyes." She watched Derek obey. "Merry Christmas!" she said softly, clapping her hands.
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Derek shot upright in his bed. He had gone to bed naked, but was surprised to see that he was wearing his robe. The scent of burned cookies hit his nose, and the dream came back to him full force. Derek tore off the covers and raced downstairs, flinging open the door in time to see Stiles' Jeep with Scott driving racing away into the night. Derek gave a fleeting glance to the destroyed Christmas tree before tearing the robe from his body and running out into the snow storm, the change twisting his body into that of an enormous furry wolf. Derek tore off in the direction he remembered Stiles being, hoping against hope that he would be on time.
