A few warnings: Gore and death and despair and angst and violence.
Also, Derek and his manpain the size of a continent.
I cried writing a few parts of this, but then again, I cry very easily.
I write this listening to You kill me, by Paper Route. Great song.
The tenses got away from me in this chapter – I was going with past, and then Present took over, and it works better with the flavor of desperation, so I left it.
Hope you enjoy it!
Come Out and Play
Where Humans Dare Not Go
"It's a demon."
Chris Argent doesn't even have to check through a thousand books, he doesn't need to go looking for sources or other people to inform him of anything – as soon as they meet and Scott manages to tell him all they had seen from Stiles that afternoon he spits the sentence out as if he was doing them a favor.
It's a demon.
As if that explains anything.
Derek is just as uncomfortable inside the Argent's house as they'd be in his, but he needs the information, and this is a human they are talking about. They have a truce, and by the way Chris Argent is acting, two packs and a family of hunters might not be enough to deal with it.
"What can we do?" he bites out, wishing Peter could have been here – he's good at getting the right answers, but of course Argent had agreed to let him come with Scott - they were Alphas - but Peter was going a step too far: the killer of his sister, the man who had threatened to kill his daughter, and a wolf who should be dead.
"I'm not sure there is anything we can do. Demons aren't… fightable. We can't kill it, we can't control it, we can only contain the damage."
"What do you mean? We're not killing Stiles!" Scott screams in indignation, and Derek can see Allison practically forcing herself not to reach out to him, to comfort him.
"Killing the boy would be a complete waste. Killing him is what the demon is aiming for – these things thrive on suffering and chaos and misery. Its goal is to create such havoc in one's life that they give up, and, in most cases, end up killing themselves."
"But can't we, like, exorcise him, or something? Trap this thing somewhere? Make it go all black smoke out of a window?" Scott is so hopeful it almost breaks Derek's heart, and by the half smile Chris shoots him, it's had the same effect on the hunter.
"You are watching way too much Supernatural, Scott. This is not how this works. A demon is a creature that exists, and its only purpose is to cause suffering. If we kill Stiles we set it free, and it'll only find another vessel, possibly one close to the boy, anyway. My bet is his father, because he'd be devastated, that boy is everything to him."
Derek is silent, looking down – this is not what he was hoping to hear. A creature, yes; powerful, okay: they could deal with that. But a demon? They couldn't contain a demon, they couldn't find weak points, they couldn't reason with it.
They can't kill Stiles, but that thing is going to find a way to make Stiles kill himself.
"There has to be something we can do" he says, and if his tone of voice carries some desperation he tries to ignore it.
"Let it run its course, and protect as many people as we can" is Chris' only answer, and it sounds to Derek as if he's already given up this fight.
"But… what about Stiles?" Scott insists, his voice small and broken, and Derek tries to avoid thinking that Stiles is pretty much the only mentor and father figure and friend Scott has ever known. He's crazy, and immature and annoying, but he's been there for Scott since forever – he's been there when Scott was nothing special, and he's been there when Scott became the star of the Lacrosse team, and when he became a werewolf. He was there when he got together with Allison, and when they broke up. He's saved Scott's life many more times than Scott saved his for all that he was the one with super powers. He's taught Scott control, and researched for him, and was there for him, always.
The only person who'd probably miss Stiles more than Scott was his own father.
How could all of them not notice that Stiles didn't see how important he was to all of them?
How could they have failed him like that?
"There has to be a way to save him" Derek states, he doesn't question, he doesn't ask, he doesn't suggest, he confirms it. There has to be.
There's always a way to defeat something like this.
Chris Argent simply stares at him for a long moment, before sighing, and telling them to wait. The silence stretches, and Scott can't even manage to angst over Allison like Derek expects him to – he's looking down, he's looking broken, and Derek doesn't know how to deal.
It seems to be his default setting these past few months, doesn't it?
Not knowing stuff he should know, not doing things he should do.
Argent comes back just as Allison is starting to reach out to Scott, and she takes her hand back so fast Derek's sure he's the only one who's seen it – Scott certainly doesn't notice, his big, soulful eyes staring at Chris and his laptop.
"The Bestiary is old, but the family managed to keep it updated, mostly" he mentions casually, because he knows they have somehow stolen it, and translated parts of it. They keep staring at him, and he types away, keeping silent while he clearly finds the part he's looking for and reads it, and shakes his head before speaking, "Twice the family managed to trap a demon, but it isn't easy, and in one of those times, it didn't even work properly."
"But we can do it? We can trap it, we can get it out of Stiles, right?" Scott's voice is full of hope, and Chris Argent stares at him while he speaks.
"Maybe. Humans are prey to demons, other dark creatures aren't. You are too powerful to be possessed, but if you actually deal with a demon, if you make them a deal, they will take over you, and leave the body they are possessing behind."
"I'll make a deal!" Scott says fast, still hopeful, but Chris shakes his head again.
"It doesn't work like that, Scott. You take the demon, and the thing will have all of your powers at its disposal. Whatever it is that Stiles has done, or will do, you would do a hundred times worse. We can't risk that. Besides, we are only saving Stiles, and then putting you in danger. That's what happened one of the times we tried to help in a possession – saving one person to damn another."
"What about the time that worked?"
Argent looks at him, but he doesn't answer. He slides the laptop to him, though, and points out a passage.
Derek reads it, and his blood runs cold.
"We'll keep that as a last resource" he bites out, his mouth barely moving, because he's afraid he'll wolf out if he speaks normally.
Chris doesn't say anything, and when Scott looks as if he's going to ask, Argent shakes his head.
That's for Derek and Chris to know, not Scott.
They leave soon after that, with the promise to at least try and contain the damage the demon can do to Stiles and using Stiles, and Chris swears he'll try to find a way to save the kid.
Derek doesn't actually believe anything he'll come up with will work.
They don't have that kind of luck.
His cellphone starts ringing the second they leave the house, and he picks it up.
"Derek, you need to come here, I don't know what to do," Isaac's voice is frantic, and they can hear someone screaming in the background.
Good thing Peter decided to send Isaac to keep an eye on Stiles.
Stiles is still on the floor when he hears his father knock briefly on the door, letting him know he's heading back to the station.
Stiles doesn't know what he answers, he's not even sure he says anything at all - he's still staring at the hoodie in his hands, he's still coming down with the fact that he had killed Erica.
And he couldn't remember it.
He can't let go of the hoodie, it's like the thing is glued to his hands permanently, he can't let go of it, he can't put it down, or wash it – burn it, because he doesn't want to be arrested.
Maybe he deserves it. He should be arrested, he should… he should die for it.
He killed Erica. Erica, who had a crush on him, who smiled when she saw him climbing through her window.
How did he even do that?
How did he kill her?
Where the fuck was the axe that did it, hidden somewhere in the house, in his father's basement?
Why couldn't he remember? What if he was… having psychotic episodes, what if he was really going insane?
Jesus, what if he killed his father?
He hadn't even noticed he was having trouble breathing until he realized he couldn't feel the air coming in and out of his nose – he couldn't breathe, couldn't hear properly either, it was like static noise in his ears, all around him.
He was a murderer, he shouldn't be alive, what had he done?
Erica… Erica… Erica… Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica Erica ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA ERICA.
He only realized he was screaming when he heard the footsteps behind him, and Isaac's voice, panicked.
"Stiles, stop screaming!" the werewolf said, firmly, going towards him – and then he stopped.
Because he saw the bloodied hoodie in Stiles' hands.
"What did you do?"
Isaac is lurking around Stiles' garden, because he has no idea how else to keep an eye on the boy – Stiles isn't technically pack's business, he isn't Derek's trouble, he is Scott's, but he understands that a lot can depend on Stiles sometimes, the only human who is willing to do anything for the pack.
Of course they have Lydia now, but she is such a bitch, always complaining about everything while her boyfriend smirks his way through meetings and conversations. Between Lydia and Stiles, Isaac prefers Stiles any day, but that isn't up to him.
So he is lurking around, sitting under Stiles' window, keeping an ear out for any weird noises. That's what he can do.
He isn't trying to pay attention to Stiles' conversation with his dad – Isaac has a sense of decency, that is private business between the two of them, and if what he has heard from the… thing in Stiles is true, things between the two of them are shaky.
He has a lot of experience with shaky relationships between father and son, though, and even if he is sure the sheriff would never harm Stiles in any way, he still listens in.
Just as a precaution.
In just a few seconds, he wishes he hadn't.
Erica was… she was…
She was dead.
He didn't approve of what she had done to Derek – sure, he considered running away back then, before the Alpha Pack thing, but it still wasn't right.
But she didn't deserve to die.
Hacked in half by an axe.
What even did that? When Peter had told him how hunters killed stray Omegas and Rogue Betas, he had told him they did it with a sword – a sharp sword. Not the ideal way to go, but sharp and effective, and mostly painless, because it ended so fast.
But an axe?
God.
He closes his eyes and tries to rein in his breathing – Isaac isn't really sure of what he's feeling, he wasn't as close to Erica as he had been, but it still hurt. She had been pack once, and he had always held hope that she and Derek would see sense, and she would be a part of their pack again.
Not anymore.
He only comes out of his shock when he listens to a soft word inside Stiles' room – Erica.
Said again and again, like a mantra, or a prayer, raising in rhythm and becoming louder and louder, until it isn't a whispered word anymore – it's a shout, desperate and afraid and broken.
Secrecy be damned, he's going in.
He climbs Stiles' window fast enough, and the boy is kneeling on the ground, holding to a piece of clothing. He calls his name once, but he doesn't answer – he's having some sort of panic attack.
"Stiles! Stop screaming!" he says firmly, going to where the boy is hunched over, and finally he responds, taking in a shuddering breath, and staring at Isaac as if he has never seen him before.
And that's when he sees the hoodie – covered in blood.
"What did you do?" he whispers, shocked, and kneeling in front of Stiles again, taking the hoodie from his hands, thinking he hurt himself somehow.
But the blood doesn't smell like Stiles. At all.
It reeks of Erica.
"I killed her."
Isaac doesn't answer, because even if the hoodie has her blood all over it, even if Stiles is saying it, he doesn't believe it. Stiles wouldn't kill Erica. He just wouldn't.
Sure, he has a ruthless side to him, a part of him that is just as dark as any werewolf under the full moon, but not to the people he liked or cared about, and Erica was somewhat of a bitch, but Isaac knew of the crush she used to have on Stiles, and how Stiles knew of that, and how he always was nicer to her because of it.
Stiles simply wouldn't kill Erica.
He just wouldn't.
"I killed her, God, Isaac, go away. GO AWAY, I killed her."
But Isaac doesn't go away; he tries to come nearer Stiles, who backs away, plastering himself against the wall, still clutching the hoodie, trying to get smaller, as if he was a child hiding under a table.
"Stiles, just tell me what you remember. You didn't do it, what do you remember?"
"I did, I did. I remember she was screaming, I remember it."
Isaac's eyes widen in horror, but Stiles didn't do it, he knows it with everything he is.
"Stiles, you…" and then he remembers, what the Sheriff said, "You didn't do it. You couldn't have done it. Your dad said so, a human couldn't have cut her like that, and you are human."
But Stiles doesn't seem to be listening, he just shakes his head and trembles, and holds the hoodie tighter.
Isaac takes it off his hands, and throws it behind him, and Stiles makes a noise as if he's been physically hurt. He grabs Stiles's hands, looking at him intently, and the boy is so scared he doesn't even fight it.
"You didn't do it. You couldn't. You are human" he repeats, and Stiles looks so miserable, as if he wants to believe Isaac so badly, but he just can't.
"But I remember her screaming. She smiled when she saw me. That's her blood."
His voice is trembling and desperate, but Isaac swallows hard, because even he is starting to doubt whatever it is that makes him believe Stiles wouldn't kill one of them – even so, he won't let Stiles despair, because if there is the tiniest chance that he didn't do it, then that's the part they'll grab and hold on to.
"You didn't do it. You don't remember what happened these past two days, what if someone kidnapped you, and planted memories in you? What if they drugged you and made you believe you did it? What if this is exactly what they want? You didn't do it."
Stiles takes a deep breath, and then another, and one more before he starts to look as if he's listening.
"You're human. No human could have done that. Your father said so" Isaac continues, and Stiles closes his eyes.
"I don't know… I don't know what to think anymore" he whispers, brokenly, and Isaac lets go of his hands, and just stares at him.
"Just remember you're human."
Stiles looks as if he's going to try and smile, and that's when it happens: his eyes go black for a second, a fraction of a second, and then he's smiling, evil and dirty, and Isaac jumps back, eyes wide.
"I don't think so, little wolf" the thing says, and Stiles body goes slack for a second.
And when he opens his eyes again, that's when the screaming starts.
Isaac's voice holds such desperation that Derek can't even be bothered to let Scott know what is going on – he gets into his car and drives as fast as he can to Stiles' house, parking in a way he's sure is illegal, but he doesn't care.
He can pick up the screams from a mile away.
He jumps through the boy's window, and the scene that greets him is something he thinks he'll never forget for as long as he lives. Stiles is on the floor, curled up on himself, screaming himself hoarse, begging and pleading and saying 'no' a hundred times over.
He's asking for forgiveness, for death, for relief, for anything to help him forget it.
Derek's eyes meet Isaac's and the boy walks over to him and tells him what he found out from the Sheriff himself – Erica is dead.
And Stiles is, apparently, the one who killed her.
The screaming makes sense, now – the demon is making Stiles remember.
He's begging again, until he's not – Stiles is turning on the floor, on his hands and knees, and he's throwing up on the carpet again, falling to the side.
He's taking one deep breath after the other, gulping down air as if choking, and tears are running down his face.
"What did that?" he finally says.
Isaac and Derek are silent – the Beta because he doesn't know, and the Alpha because he's not sure he's the one who should explain this to Stiles.
"I remember" he talks again, his voice rough and hoarse form the screaming, weak, "But it wasn't me. What did that? What's happening?" He raises his eyes, begging silently as he stares at Derek, "Please, don't lie to me, what is happening?"
Derek looks down, and he can feel both boys looking at him – Stiles is trembling every few seconds, and he is fighting not to blink – as if a second with his eyes closed will be enough to make him disappear forever.
It's probably true, anyway.
"A demon is possessing you" he says, his voice cold and hard and inflexible.
He can't break down, because if he does, then they are all doomed – someone has to keep it together, and these teens sure as hell won't do that.
"It's taken you over the past two days, it's killed Erica using your body. It wasn't you. It's… this thing."
Stiles finally sits up and stares at Derek, as if waiting for more, but there isn't anything. What can he say? Everything will be alright? It sure as hell won't. They have nothing and unless Chris Argent finds a magical way to kill and trap demons, while making their vessel forget whatever it is it did while it was being used by the demon, there's no happy ending for this.
The boy is still looking at him, waiting, wanting, expecting something, and Derek wants to grab him and shake him for doing that, for having such faith and hope in him, as if he's ever held the answers for any of their problems.
If anything, it's always been the other way around.
And at the same time, he wants to tell Stiles that he matters, that they'll fight this thing, that maybe, just maybe, just this once, they can win.
That maybe, this time, only this time, Derek can forget Stiles is barely seventeen, and maybe he can let himself go.
That he can love Stiles back, maybe. It's deeper than a crush, this faith Stiles has in him, he sees it as clear as day now and he can't do anything about it – he just can't.
Because he doesn't have the answers, because there's no way they can fight it, because Stiles is a minor, and he's not, because this demon holds all the cards, and everything they show him now is ammunition to be used against them later on.
Stiles is the victim and the villain, all rolled into one.
And Derek is helpless.
He hates it.
"How do we fight it?"
It's not Stiles' question, it's Isaac's, but Derek doesn't take his eyes off Stiles as answers, quiet and deadly.
"We don't."
Stiles makes a sound that is half a laugh and half a sob, and covers his mouth with one of his hands, tears running down his face again.
"We don't?" he repeats, incredulous, staring at Derek, bitter and vengeful, and full of hatred – not the demon's: his. Derek knows why, because he thinks they have given up on him.
"It's not something we can fight, we have to be smarter than it is, and we can't do that with Stiles present. It's listening to us, even now. Argent is looking through it, we're working on it. We don't fight it. We win it, ok?" he's staring at Stiles as he says it, seeing a bit of hope coming to the surface, and he wants to hit himself for doing it – their chance of winning this thing is so, so low it's not even funny.
There's always a way, though. He'll take that road if he has to.
How ridiculous is it that he's only now realizing how much he cares for this stupid boy, anyway? When they are at the end of the road, when there's nothing they can do to make this work?
"What can I do?" Stiles asks, taking a deep breath, his body shaking a bit still, and Isaac looks as if he wants to help him, so desperately, his blue eyes shining in concern.
For a werewolf, that boy sure can't take someone suffering like this.
"Nothing. You're the problem, Stiles. This one you let us take care of." Derek doesn't stop to take in Stiles' reaction, he turns to Isaac, ignoring the betrayed and hurt look Stiles has on his face, "Stay here until Peter comes in. If he tries anything, call me or Argent. Do not let him out of your sight."
He doesn't wait for an answer, he just leaves.
If he stayed for a second longer he'd have taken Stiles in his arms, made him see he's important – kissed him.
He's never let himself wonder, never really thought about it until it's staring at him in the face.
Maybe it even became this evident with a little help from the demon itself, but he can't do it.
Maybe, maybe if they save Stiles somehow, then he'll try to figure something out.
But not right now, not this way.
He can't.
He goes back to his house, and finds Peter there. Asks him to go over to Stiles, and tell him to keep Isaac there too – maybe two werewolves could take care of a demon for long enough to contain any danger.
He says he has research to do, and Peter leaves.
He sits down on a battered old couch, and stares at the half burned walls.
There is a solution.
Chris Argent showed it to him – he knows he could do it. He grabs their laptop, and reads the passage over and over again.
He could do it.
The thing is: will he?
Does he want to?
He closes his eyes, and thinks.
Little does he know that, by the end of the night, he'll have all his answers.
When Peter gets to the house the boy lives in, Stiles is cleaning.
He has cleaning products all around him, and he's scrubbing the floor of his bedroom with a force that a human should not possess when dealing with cleaning something, and Isaac is sitting cross legged on the bed, staring worriedly at the other teen.
So much teen angst, his nephew is such an idiot.
Stiles looks at him when he enters through the window, and then goes back to cleaning. There's a faint smell of smoke in the air, and he sniffs a little, looking at Isaac inquisitively.
"I burned a hoodie" he answers, and Stiles snorts from where he's scrubbing the floor.
"Yeah, because burning the evidence that a demon used my body to kill a girl who was my friend is, you know, my top priority right now."
"It's the thing that could get you arrested for something you didn't do, so I burned it. Now shut up, and go back to scrubbing, Cinderella."
Hm, thinks Peter, that's news.
Isaac is never very verbal about anything – he watches a lot, though. Quiet and, Peter is sure, when he gets older, deadly. He's a smart kid, probably the only one with any potential from the Betas his nephew had changed – a little bit damaged, but damaged was good for a werewolf, kept them fighting.
If you couldn't have your family to ground you – and Isaac was certainly better off without his father – anger and damage were good enough.
He cares about Stiles, though. It's in the way he keeps watching the teen in the room, as if he's ready to jump up and hold him back if he goes into another killing spree, and that's something they can explore, if this mess is ever going to be solved.
Peter has some faith it will, because Derek might be a complete idiot, but he's a persistent idiot, and Scott is not much better, and this boy making his hands raw with cleaning products is important to both of them.
Who knew that if only Derek could be a bit more into sharing and caring all this mess could have been avoided.
"Do any of you know what Derek is planning to do?" he asks while taking a seat on Stiles' desk chair, and Stiles finally lets go of his cleaning to sit on the floor, his back resting on the wall.
He snorts, bitterly, and Peter keeps on sniffing the air, all the time, to see the traces of sulfur. If it's really a demon, it could be it right now, and not Stiles – though god knows the kid is bitter and damaged enough without it.
"No, because I'm the enemy. I'm the problem. So, you know, no sharing information with Stiles present."
"You know it makes sense, and we are trying to help" Isaac says, and his tone is chiding. Stiles looks down, regretful, and sighs.
"I do. I'm sorry. It's just… I'm not good at dealing with stuff like this. I get you guys out of trouble. Not the other way around. I don't want to be any more dead weight than I already am."
"You really believe that, don't you?" Peter ends up saying, curiously, because, please. He's had his psychotic phase, and his serial killer moments, but never, ever, in all of his life, he felt as if he was less than whatever it was he wanted to be. He believed in himself, he knew his place in the world, he could even accept that the power of being an Alpha would probably kill him right now, and that's why he allowed Derek to run this little freak show, but how could someone like Stiles not see?
The kid doesn't answer; he just stares at him, guilty and angry, and then looks down. Peter shakes his head, what's the world coming to, when an idiot like Scott gets the girl and the Alpha title, and someone like Stiles is the sidekick who's going to end up dead to solve this mess?
They stay in silence, and Peter gets bored in about three minutes – he's never been really good about just watching time pass by, so he goes downstairs, and turns on the TV, being followed by the teens soon after. Stiles goes into the kitchen, and starts cleaning there – and if that isn't a nervous habit Peter's never seen one in his life, then.
Isaac is with Stiles – he didn't even mention going away, even with Peter there, so Peter is at least half sure he's not going to miss if the demon shows up again. Hours go by, and nothing seems to really be in trouble – Peter watches at least two movies, and is about to begin a third when they hear the Sheriff's car parking in the driveway.
Suddenly the two teens come out of the kitchen, Stiles with his eyes wide and pleading, looking at the two werewolves, as if begging them to leave.
"Kid, we're not going anywhere" Peter says, getting up, and coming to a stop two steps away from Stiles.
Something is shifting.
He can feel it in his bones.
"I don't want you to" Stiles answers, and the door opens, strangely homey. The Sheriff looks confused by the scene that greets him, an adult who was declared miraculously cured after years in coma, a boy he had arrested personally a few months back, and his son reeking of cleaning products.
"Son?" the Sheriff says cautiously, and that's when it hits Peter – the faint smell of rotten eggs: sulfur.
"Hey, daddy" says the demon, his eyes flashing black, his smile all teeth, and he takes a step forward as the Sheriff takes one back.
Peter half changes and roars, grabbing the thing by the waist and tackling it to the floor.
The demon laughs.
"Oh, Peter, darling, if I knew you liked Stiles this way I'd have given him to you for a bit."
Peter ignores the barb and tightens his hold – but the truth is, the thing is only allowing him to hold it down because it wants to. He could be thrown aside any second.
He's about to say something, when Isaac, eyes flashing gold, comes towards them, grabs a hold of Stiles' head, and knocks it on the floor. The thing gives half a whimper, and goes slack.
It's unconscious, the smell is gone.
Peter gets away from the body on the floor, and gets up, the Sheriff holding a gun at him, but Peter knows the man won't use it: he saw them change.
He also saw his son's eyes going black.
"We," he begins, gesturing towards him and Isaac, "are werewolves. And your son is being possessed by a demon. We are pretty much the only thing that can save him, and your bullets won't do a thing to us, except, maybe, make me mad" he smiles, pleasantly, "and you really don't want to see me mad."
He sends Isaac upstairs with Stiles, while he sits the Sheriff down and explains everything he's been missing. He actually takes a bit of pleasure out of it: making the man realize what he was doing to his son, the guilt and everything he did wrong, Peter likes it.
He's never said he was a good man, but he's a bit fond of Stiles himself – not in the way the demon had insinuated, but of his intelligence and persistence. He wouldn't have offered him the bite if he wasn't.
When he finishes, the Sheriff is looking wrecked. He hasn't cried, he hasn't even said he doesn't believe him – he is staring at the table, looking through it as if he can't quite decide what to do.
"What can we do? What can I do? To save my son?"
Peter shrugs.
"I don't know if there's anything that can be done" he answers honestly, and then looks at the man, "But if there is, you can be sure my nephew will find it."
"Why would he? Why would he care about Stiles like that?"
And really, doesn't this man know his son? Has he met him? Who wouldn't try to save Stiles?
"Because that idiot loves your son. It's sickening, because he's never going to do anything about it. I bet he doesn't even realize it, but he does."
The Sheriff doesn't answer, and they sit in silence for an awkward minute, Peter patiently waiting for the Sheriff to say something, but they are interrupted by a crash of broken glass.
Peter is on the second floor so fast the Sheriff doesn't even realize he's gone from the kitchen. When they get to Stiles' room, the whole place smells like sulfur, Isaac is on the floor, his head bleeding, and the window is crashed open.
Peter doesn't even hesitate; he gets his phone and calls Derek.
"The demon's run away. Find him" he orders, before going over to Isaac.
They better find that boy before he hurts anyone else – because Stiles may be strong and hard and everything he wants to believe he is, but Erica's death is enough.
One more and he's going down.
And there'll be no saving him if he's already dead.
When Derek finds him three hours later, he's covered in blood and tears, and he's muttering to the body in his hands.
"I'm sorry, oh, god, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he whispers brokenly over and over again.
The moment he hears Peter's voice on the phone Derek is out of the house. He tries to focus, find Stiles smell, and it isn't that hard to track him down – the demon certainly doesn't care that he's doing what it's doing: destroying all of them from the inside out.
They are at the abandoned warehouse he's used as a hideout before.
Boyd is on the floor – parts of Boyd, actually, all over the floor; an axe resting against the wall and Stiles is covered in blood from head to toe. He is holding Boyd's upper body against him, talking to it, as if the older boy could hear him, and there's more than simply desperation in his tone – he is half crazed, and Derek wonders how long he's been here with Boyd's body, conscious and alert of the fact that his body had killed Boyd.
Scott, Isaac, Jackson and Peter are outside, but Derek asks them to stay out of it for a bit. Scott tries to protest, but Jackson says he'll knock him over the head if he has to, and Isaac bares his teeth, and Scott relents – not so much out of fear, but because he realizes arguing will make this longer than it has to be.
"Stiles?" he calls, his voice quiet, and the boy turns around, still holding half of Boyd to him.
"Please…" he says, begging, tears falling freely from his eyes, blood everywhere – in his face and clothes and hands, "Please, Derek, please, please."
He's sobbing, and Derek kneels beside him, making him let go of Boyd, and he takes Stiles into his arms, holding him firmly against him, not caring about the blood.
"We're trying, Stiles, we're trying" he answers – and they are, Chris hasn't stopped looking, but things aren't looking good enough.
They aren't looking good at all.
"No. Please, now, finish this now" Stiles says, holding to Derek desperately, and Derek wonders if he even realizes what he's doing, "Finish this now."
Derek pulls away a bit, and stares at Stiles, into his wet eyes.
"What?" he questions, because he does not understand it.
He doesn't want to understand it.
"Please, please, make this over. Make this end."
"I'm trying" he says, growling, not in anger but in fear and despair, because he is.
But Stiles shakes his head, and grabs Derek's face with both his hands, pulling him close, and Derek thinks for a second Stiles is going to kiss him, their lips almost touching.
"Kill me" he orders, demanding and certain and direct, "Now. Kill me" he says again.
And Derek takes a deep breath, letting his head fall forwards, their foreheads touching, breathing the same air, tainted with the smell of blood.
He knows what he has to do.
Hehehehe.
And, possibly, this will be over next chapter.
What do you think Derek'll do?
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