Author's Note: Hey! It's been a while, I know. I've just been working on school stuff, I'm a terrible person. But I also took my time with this chapter, because it's like...different from the previous ones. Oh my gosh, I'm so nervous just posting this. Okay, here, read it. Ok bye.
"Stiles!"
Awakening suddenly from his daydream, Stiles flailed in his chair, snapping his head at Scott.
"What!?"
"Don't glare at me, what are you doing sleeping? This is important." Scott retorted.
Stiles eyes widened, "What am I doing sleeping? I dunno, it's like two in the morning. What am I supposed to be doing?" He leaned back into his car seat, preparing to go back to sleep.
Scott reached over and shook him awake, receiving another loud remark from Stiles.
"You're supposed to be watching. We're on a lookout."
"Yeah, a lookout on a hopeless mission. Listen, Gerard has been gone for two days, he's out of the town already. Why would he stay in Beacon Hills, just to die?" Stiles pointed out, causing an eye roll from Scott.
"We're watching the building for any movement."
"Yes," Stiles nodded sarcastically, "The building in which I was kidnapped to and beat up. That building, that I am now stuck watching at two o'clock in the morning. Tell me again why I am doing this?"
Scott leaned back in his seat, "Shut up and keep watch."
Stiles rolled his eyes and looked out the driver's window, away from Scott. "Keep watch, I'll show you keep watch, watching all the stupid trees in the world." He mumbled to himself. Stiles eyelids slowly dropped and again, he slipped into sleep.
"Hey!"
"WHAT?" Again, Stiles was rudely awakened by Scott McCall. Looking over at the dash, he noted that only 45 minutes had passed.
"Why did you go to sleep?"
Stiles stared incredulously at Scott, "Well, I don't know. It's a school night; I'm not a wolf with supernatural powers. So, as I teenage boy I'm going to be really fucking tired in about six hours."
Scott sighed, before opening the car door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Stiles called out after him, already fearing that he would be stuck by himself, alone, again.
"Inside." Scott's voice called out in the dark, the sound of his footsteps crunching the leaves signaled his was walking farther away, towards the house.
"You said we were supposed to keep watch!" Stiles shouted as he climbed out of the car. All this shouting really isn't helping the whole keep watch idea. Stiles just wanted to be back home, asleep in his bed, dreaming about Lydia.
"Then you stay in the car." Scott replied, his voice the only thing showing he was even out there.
Stiles turned around towards the car, "Don't mind if I do." There was no way he was getting back into that house. Nu-uh, no way. After settling in the car, Stiles fidgeted with the radio. The eerie silence of the automobile, combined with the constant chirping of crickets was starting to bug Stiles. He drummed his fingers against the wheel, trying to exert some energy out of him. For about five minutes, he traded off fidgeting with his hands, changing the radio, and moving the car seat up and down.
Then when he couldn't take it no more, he got out of the car. It's the feeling of complete aloneness that hit Stiles the moment the door swung open. In the night, after a certain hour, there comes a point where an individual can feel completely and utterly alone, even with someone by their side. Stiles stepped out of the car, feeling this, suffocating in the silence of the world at that moment. It was the kind of nervousness that he always felt before something drastic came. He tried to shake off the feeling as he walked his way towards the house.
"Scott!" Ringing out in the empty hallway of the building, Stiles searched for a sign of McCall. No answer. Stiles drew out his cellphone, speed dialing Scott's number.
"What?" Scott voice picked up after the second ring. At the same time, Stiles heard a creaking sound from down the hallway.
"Where are you?" Stiles hoped that Scott didn't sense how nervous he was. After swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he stepped into the hallway.
"I'm upstairs." Scott paused, the sound of metal moving against linoleum rang through the phone and a suppressed replication drummed through the ceiling. "I think I found something."
A little reassured, Stiles walked down the hallway more. His footsteps echoed off the walls, circling around him before disappearing in the silence.
"When you say something, that implies a vague answer. What do you mean something?"
"I mean like-"
Scott's voice was cut off by the objects being tossed over and a quiet groan.
"Scott!" Stiles shouted into the phone, quickening his pace towards the end of the hall, where he guessed the stairs were. His heart quickened with the thought of Scott injured, leaving him alone.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why the hell do you think I wouldn't be?" Scott's annoyed voice came through the phone.
Confused Stiles replied, "I thought –". He paused, hearing a louder, more distressed groan coming from the door next to him. Stiles knew Scott was upstairs. His heart thumped against his chest; frightened by what lied behind the door. Nothing as bad as a Kanima at least. Scott repeated to himself, attempting to reassure his doubtful mind.
"Don't be a pussy Stiles." His shaky voice spoke out loud in an attempt to calm himself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath whilst placing his hand on the steel door. Come on, just open it. Holding his breath, he shoved the door open. The metal grated across the floor, sending a high-pitched screech through Stiles' ears. It wasn't the sound that overpowered him, but the smell. The smell of rot both dried and fresh blood, sweat, grime, and death; it attacked him. Eyes still closed, he drew his arms around his nose, trying to stop the onslaught. Stiles immediately turned around, puking his contents onto the floor. Eyes closed, Stiles could feel the small flicker, possibly of a candle or dying bulb, against his eyelids. With a shaky breath he turned around and opened his eyes.
"Oh, my god."
The sight of what Stiles looked upon was so much worse than when he had imagined. The barely lit room was empty; its walls and floors stained with blood and other odd colored stains. Then, off to the side, a steel bar was drilled into a wall with a meat hook hanging from it. The hook swung back and forth, a rope cascading tightly from it. As Stiles eyes trailed farther down, the rope led to a tightly wound pair of hands which were painted with trails of blood leading down to out-of-place arms.
"What the fuck"
The horror was in front of Stiles. But he had no idea what he was looking at. The hands led to a badly battered body, hanging from the bar. Its arms obviously dislocated, and covered in dried blood. Gagged at the mouth, and tied at the feet again, the victim was unconscious.
"Scott!"
Stiles called out in the hallway before returning to the room, scrambling to untie the rope. His sweaty hands gnawed at the raw rope, scratching at them in whatever way possibly. Finally setting the rope free, the body slumped onto Stiles. Feeling the limp weight, he noticed that it was a girl. Not that it really made any difference, he already was scared for this person's life. But as he grabbed the waist to hoist over his shoulder, his hands covered the miniscule waist. Fingers gripped against bone, and then Stiles looked again. Her body thinned sharply at every angle. Stiles was reminded of those scarily thin models that walked on runways, never being hospitalized because they were getting the job done.
"Stiles!" Scott's voice shot through the room, his rapid footsteps approaching Stiles. He took one look around the room before racing to him. Scott's eyes stared back at Stiles and the girl, widening in shock.
"Stiles" It was a whisper filled with pain and sadness coming from Scott.
He couldn't answer, so scared he began to shake violently. It took all of his willpower to tear his eyes away from the body to Scott.
He stuttered. "Is-is-is she dead." Scott's mind clicked instantly, tuning his ears in, tuning out Stiles' own rapid heart, listening for any sign. So small, so quiet, her heartbeat took too long to come alive and left too quickly for her to have much time.
"No, but she's not going to be alive for much longer if we leave her here." It was the smartest thing he'd said all day. In a flash, Stiles ran out the door, body in tow, Scott trailing behind. The wind rushed past his eyes, his footsteps breaking every possible twig, branch, rock that was on the ground. The sound of more than two pairs of feet grew apparent, but Stiles was solely focused on getting to the car. Even with the animal growl and the echo of trees rustling, he willed himself forward. She needed to go to the hospital. She was dying.
He gasped for air upon arriving at the Jeep, his hands searching for the door handle as he yanked it open. Carefully placing her upon the back seat, he buckled her in with all three seat belts, closed the door, and rushed to the driver's seat.
"SCOTT!" Stiles yelled, but his voice only echoed in the plain. "Fuck it." He murmured to himself, turning the ignition on, gearing it to reverse, and stepping on the gas.
Every law, every stop sign, and every speed limit was ignored. Minutes rolled by, and with every glance backward, Stiles grew more frantic. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing his head, repeating about fifty oh my god's or biting his lip. Half-mindedly, he searched for his phone.
"Where the fuck it is?" He yelled at himself, feeling the slick surface with his thumb in his pocket before a thwack hit the gear box, disappearing into the car seat.
"You've got to be kidding me!" His foot pushed the gas pedal farther down.
Ten more minutes slipped by before Stiles finally slowed down to keep the car from flipping. The gleaming red EMERGENCY sign of the hospital stood before him as he scrambled out of the car. It wasn't like the movies when the nurses and doctors rushed out of the doors to the arrival in the car. No, it was silent, as Stiles freaked out on the inside, his hands clumsily attaching the seatbelts and pulling her out. The sweat dripped out his forehead and poured out of his palms, making it harder to hold on. The eerie silence as he waddled towards the sliding doors proved so much more that his life wasn't a movie. The nurse in the ward was half asleep on the desk as he entered the room, gripping onto the girl.
He looked around, bewildered, as he saw Scott's mom come out of the bathroom. Her eyes lifting up from the floor and landing on Stiles.
"Stiles" Surprised, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Then, Ms. McCall saw what he held in his arms. And her voice got firm, the way that it's been whenever Scott's werewolf stuff pops up now that she knew. "What's going on?"
He felt the rush of heat as exhaustion hit his body, his grip failing.
Stammering, Scott let it out. "I-I-I need some help." The nausea built up on his throat. His ears ringed. His vision blurred and buzzed. The dizziness made him lose his sense of balance as he tipped over. Before landing, he quickly remembered the girl, turning on to his side in order to save her from harm. The rush of the staff coming towards him, and Scott's mom yelling for a doctor. And then his head landed with a hard thump. And he was out.