Now THAT was an episode! I was really impressed with tonight's episode of Teen Wolf. Totes made up for last week's crappy filler… (Sorry! I was just so unimpressed!)
OoooO
Rain gently tapped against Stiles' window. Despite the early hour of the morning, the grey sky was surprisingly luminescent. It very well could have been an added effect of the toxins that coursed through his veins… That, or some beautiful concoction of nature. Either way, he stared at those clouds, eyes heavy-lidded, as a pair of tan arms snaked around his shirtless torso. They did little to cover the numerous bite marks on his chest.
"Oh, sweet boy," breathed a gentle, southern voice in his ear. Blonde hair tickled his back. "You're awake."
"Couldn't sleep," he said quietly.
"Aww… I could help you sleep, y'know?" she replied, gently tracing a long fingernail up his arm. Stiles barely registered the sensation, so lost in oblivion as he was. From the slight reflection on the window, he could see the dark circles under his eyes and the redness that hemmed the edges of his eyelids… the pale colors of his lips matching the pale color of his skin… He looked near death.
"I know," he mumbled, turning to her.
Daliah smiled and pulled Stiles' t-shirt off of herself. In the strange morning light, her body seemed to glow. "Come," she ordered.
It didn't take but a second for him to comply.
It was pathetic. He was pathetic… but there was nothing else left. Stiles had resigned himself to his fate; this was the lesser of two evils… At least this way, no one else was getting hurt. It was contained. Daliah was too strong to fight, so this was all that was left. He might have felt differently if the drugs and the venom wasn't clouding his mind, but it was and there was nothing he could to change that.
It was just too late for him.
OoooO
Sheriff Stilinski watched quietly as his son shambled down the stairs and into the kitchen. He looked halfheartedly into the fridge before closing it and meandering into the living room out of sight. The sheriff thought he heard his flop on the couch, only making him more late for school than he already was.
There was no denying it; something was wrong with his son. He tried to open up conversation with the boy, but each time he was met with little to no response. Unfortunately, as time progressed, Stiles only seemed to get worse. He hated jumping to any of the wrong conclusions, but it was more and more troubling. The teen was closing in on himself - he seemed almost vacant, dead in his eyes… It was down-right creepy.
For a second, Sheriff Stilinski considered calling someone, anyone, but… he honestly didn't know who to ask for help, or even what was wrong with his boy. Ever since their trip to Caldwell, something began to change in the boy that he couldn't figure out… but, regardless, it scared the hell out of him. The only option he had left was confrontation.
Realizing that this was as good a time as any, the sheriff walked into the living room to ask Stiles about his behavior; he was met with an empty house and the front door still slightly ajar.
OoooO
"Let me see that marker," Clyde said, gesturing towards the fat red sharpie. Derek tossed it to him and he X'd out one of the buildings they had searched the previous night. "That makes… this district done. All that's left are these two smaller ones; this area out by the preserve, and this area in the industrial zone."
The estranged maagrim and the Hale wolves had teamed up in an effort to sniff out the she-maagrim. Surprisingly enough, the three of them were able to quickly work through their differences and made an effective team… and that was even taking their empty searches into consideration. Clyde attributed it to the fact that even though they hadn't found the she-maagrim yet, they were still getting closer and closer.
"What did Argent say about this building here? Next to the station?" Peter asked. "I swear there was something here during one of our patrols."
Derek shook his head. "He checked it out, but there was nothing. Hence, the 'x'."
Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "This is… really annoying."
"I told you that canvasing the area is slow progress," Clyde replied. "We'd be better off with our feeder…"
"Yeah, well, they haven't been too forthcoming on their location either," Peter snapped.
Clyde sighed. "Our best chance is leaving it to the others to track them," he said, though he didn't sound like he believed his own words. Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. "Wait!"
"…what?" Peter and Derek asked in unison.
"I just thought of something that might work…"
The Hales stared him a moment before Peter gestured wildly. "And!?"
"Well, I doubt that anyone here is going to like it much," Clyde replied.
"…of course not," Peter said in return.
Clyde crossed his arms. "I didn't say it was a bad plan," he retorted. "It just might help us figure out who the feeder is and where they might be hiding the maagrim."
OoooO
He would never admit it, especially with how frustrated he was, but Scott kept his eyes glued to the door as third period began. Next to him, he could sense Isaac doing the same; he had informed the beta of the situation, of what he suspected… Isaac didn't believe him at first, which wasn't surprising, but he was able to convince his pack mate enough to get him on alert.
Stiles missing the first two periods only strengthened his case.
"How many days had he been this late?" Isaac asked quietly in disbelief. Scott sighed through his nose.
"A lot."
As if on cue, the classroom door swung open and Stiles stepped in. "Mr. Stilinski," the teacher said in an aggravated tone. "This is the last time I will warn you about your tardiness. Now sit down." Stiles seemed completely indifferent to her words as he took his seat.
Scott met Isaac's gaze; the beta mouthed 'wow'.
It was an accurate statement. Stiles looked terrible, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes… it was like looking at the living dead. Even the look in his eyes was dead.
"After class," Scott whispered, his heart pounding.
Isaac nodded. "After class."
OoooO
"It's a good idea and you know it," Clyde snapped.
"Are you kidding me!?" Derek growled. "You've already spent the past god knows how many weeks telling us about how dangerous even a lick from your kind is and you wanna full on bite her!?"
"As much as I hate to agree with our friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-again… he's got a point. She would be most likely to survive the ordeal anyways," Peter piped in.
Derek glared at him. "You're not. Helping."
"I don't know why you care so much anyways," his uncle said with a shrug. "She's been quite useful in the past… and has helped us with this maagrim problem once already, if I remember correctly."
The other werewolf fell silent. It seemed like he was always the last one to agree to some horrible plan that usually went awry in some terrible way… Of course, he could've just been imagining that part. Regardless, Derek let a sigh escape him. "We will all need to be there… Just in case," he ordered.
Clyde nodded. "Of course." Something seemed to be troubling him, but said nothing… so the Hales let it be.
OoooO
The bell rang and every single one of those students was up on a flash. Such was the reaction after an incredibly long lecture class. Unfortunately, it made it all the easier for Stiles to slip out before the werewolves could reach him.
"Damnit!" Scott growled as he and Isaac nearly fell out of the classroom. The halls were in a flurry of students as they flocked to their next class. "Isaac! Do you see him!?"
The beta looked around for a while, but his lips were pursed. "No… No, I don't… But… Do you smell that?"
Scott took a moment to try and sort out the scents around them. It took a second, but sure enough… there it was.
Sickly sweet honey.
Stiles, however, was moving away from them as fast as he possibly could. He knew that Scott was going to try and corner him. There was no way in hell he was going to face his best friend right now… not when the pounding in his head had resurfaced and the fever in his mind made it nearly impossible to concentrate.
He made it to the locker room in record time; if he was correct, there wasn't any gym during fourth period so that their coach could have a lunch break. Luckily, he was right.
"Hey," said an unfamiliar voice.
Surprised, Stiles whirled around to see a fellow student that had followed him into the locker room. "Um… Hi."
The student walked up to him, his movements jumpy and his eyes darting back and forth… as if he were hiding from someone. "So, uh…" He sniffed once and finally glanced up at Stiles. "So, what are you carrying?"
Stiles blinked, completely unaware of what this kid meant. "…what?"
"C'mon, man!" the other student growled, suddenly seeming hostile. "I can tell that you're on somethin', man… Just sell me a little somethin' and we're cool." He stepped uncomfortable close to Stiles.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. "Go away." He just wanted to dose, that was all… take a little oxy to tide him over until that evening. He attempted to step past the kid, but an arm barred his way. Stiles slid his gaze toward the student, his eyes dangerously dark.
"Give me the shit, man," the kid growled through his teeth.
Stiles shoved the kid away. "Get away from me!"
Apparently, this didn't go over too well with the other student; a fist came sailing towards Stiles' face.
It stopped, dead in the air, mere inches from Stiles' face.
The kid's eyes widened in surprise. Within them, Stiles could see his own eyes darkening. It was almost as if his pupils had expanded past his irises, almost completely swallowing up the white of his eyes. The other student must have seen it as well, for he backpedaled and quickly ran away. At last, Stiles was alone.
He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. With that exhale, every last bit of strength seemed to leave him. Without any further hesitation, Stiles dug through his bag and found his precious pills. He grabbed what he thought were two and popped them. As always, he prayed they would kick in as quickly as possible.
A heat flash overcame him and forced the air out of Stiles' lungs. In an attempt to cool down, he unzipped his sweater and pulled down his hood so as to press his cheek against the cold locker room wall. Since he was once again alone, he had no fears of anyone seeing the reddened bite marks that littered his body. Most were still hidden beneath his tee shirt, but marks in the crooks of his arms and neck were visible.
It wasn't until the grating sound of the locker room door opening echoed around in his head that Stiles realized just how long he had been sitting there. "Crap," he whispered to himself as he attempted to stand. When had he ended up on the floor? His mind was lost in the pill-induced haze… more-so than he anticipated. He needed to get out of there.
"Stiles."
He had barely made it to his feet when a blurry Scott and who he presumed to be Isaac appeared around the corner.
Stiles shrugged on his jacket in just the nick of time, but was unable to hide the dizzied expression on his face, the sweat on his brow, or the unsteady way he gripped at the sink. "Hey…." He wiped at his nose and pulled his hood farther down. "Why are you here?"
Neither wolf responded. Stiles watched as they looked at each other for a moment before both of them closed their eyes and inhaled deeply. Scott finally opened his eyes. The pained expression within them would have normally killed Stiles, but he felt almost nothing.
"Stiles," Scott finally said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can smell the venom from here."
Silence filled the room before Stiles finally spoke. "…I don't know what you're talking about."
"C'mon, Stiles," Isaac said, his voice much more harsh. "You're that monster's feeder!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Stiles shouted back.
"People are dead because of you!"
"People are alive because of me!" the teen retorted. However, the strain took its toll and Stiles' knees buckled beneath him.
"Stiles!" Scott shouted, lunging forward. He managed to catch his best friend before he hit the ground. "Stiles! What's wrong!?"
"I think I know," Isaac growled. He shoved past the two and grabbed Stiles' backpack.
"No, please," Stiles mumbled as he tried to extricate himself from Scott's arms. "Please…"
Isaac ignored him and dumped the contents onto the locker room floor. A text book, random loose-leaf sheets of paper, and writing utensils fell out… followed by the click-clack of an orange pill bottle. "…just like I thought," Isaac mumbled. He bent down and picked up the bottle. "…oxy. Innocent, little, ole Stiles is faded on pain pills."
Stiles pushed away from Scott in an attempt to snag the pills from the other werewolf. However, Scott was infinitely stronger and jerked him backwards. "Stiles, are you kidding me!?" he growled.
"Let go on me!" Stiles shouted as he struggled against the alpha's hold. Scott did not relent. Stiles twisted away, but Scott wasn't going to let him escape. The other teen's thrashing became more frantic.
"Stiles, calm down!" Scott growled.
"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yeah!?" Scott retorted, heartlessly releasing Stiles and sending his friend crashing to the floor. "Then explain the venom you wreak of! Explain the drugs in your god damn back pack…. EXPLAIN THIS!" With that, Scott reached out and jerked down Stiles' hood.
The red bite marks seemed to burn from the exposure.
"Jesus," Isaac whispered.
"I said… leave… me… ALONE!"
Stiles' voice boomed around them, echoing off of the walls. He seemed to materialize before them, upright, his eyes once again darkened. Without warning, an unseen force slammed into the two werewolves and sent them crashing into the wall. Rubble fell around them as they collapsed to the floor, both of them stunned.
There was a moment of hesitation before Stiles grabbed the bottle of pills that had fell from Isaac's hand. "… I'm sorry," he whispered. Slowly, he picked up his belongings, shoved them into his bag, and made his way towards the exit. "…I'm sorry," he said again, "but… I'm the only one who can hold her off… it's the only way to save you… to save everyone."
With that, he left.
It wasn't much later that Scott and Isaac were able to regain their bearings and dust themselves off.
"What… the hell… was that…" Isaac said as he shook the powdered concrete from his hair.
Scott didn't have an answer for him. "We have to find him," he eventually replied. "Call Allison, I'll talk to Derek and the twins…"
"Scott-"
"Once we get everyone in the loop we can decide what to do."
"Scott!"
The alpha paused, but didn't look at the other werewolf. "…we can help him," he finally said.
Isaac sighed. "Scott, I don't… I mean… I've seen this, y'know? My dad and my brother…"
"We can help him!" Scott interrupted. "We know now… we can help him."
There was one last moment of silence before Isaac sighed quietly. "Yeah… I know. We'll help him."
OoooO
Sheriff Stilinski waited until the answering machine ended, followed by a light tone, before he began. "Hey, kiddo," he said with a sigh. It was tougher to leave the message than he thought. "Um… I just… I wanted us to talk… We've been busy, the both of us, and…"
His message was cut short by the sound of the front door opening. Alarmed at the early hour, the sheriff slowly leaned out of the kitchen. "…Stiles?" he called out.
"Dad…"
Relief flooded through the sheriff as he hung up the phone. "Stiles… it's only twelve-something… why are you home so… early…." His words fell short as took in the sight of his son. In short, he looked like awful.
"Dad… I don't… feel so good… I just need to sleep, okay?" He dropped his bag into the middle of the hallway, but had yet to move from the door.
"Is… that all? Stiles, you don't look so… Well, I was actually leaving you a message…"
"I got into a fight with Scott, if that's what you're looking for," he replied, his tone obviously sarcastic.
"Stiles, I wasn't looking for anything," his father replied. "I just… want to know if you're okay."
"I'm fine, Dad." Stiles finally walked past him. "It was just… a dumb fight and I don't feel well…"
"…alright, son. Go and rest," the sheriff finally replied. Stiles didn't acknowledge him as he walked on up the stars and out of sight. His father sighed and made towards the door. After seeing Stiles the way he was now… dejected, sickly, out of it… he knew that he couldn't afford to wait any longer.
"Sheriff!"
As if in answer to prayer, the sheriff was just about to close the door when a hand shot out to stop it. "Sheriff!" the voice said again, Stilinski finally recognizing it.
"Scott?" he asked, allowing the door to open and Scott McCall to practically tackle him.
"Is Stiles here!?" he asked, almost out of breath. The sheriff stepped back, but held out his hands to steady the alpha.
"Scott, Scott, calm down…" he replied. "Stiles is here, he's just upstairs sleeping. He said he wasn't feeling well…"
It wasn't hard to see that Scott's entire body screamed anger. The sheriff hoped he didn't come to their house with the intent to start anything, but that was mostly because he wasn't sure he'd be any match for the alpha werewolf. However, Scott stayed rooted and crossed his arms. "Yeah? And what else did he tell you?"
The sheriff scowled. "Look… if you boys got into an argument, it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Stiles hasn't been… at 100% the past few weeks. I think he's got the flu or something…"
"Yeah?" Scott asked. "You sure it's not a crippling addiction to pain killers?"
Both men were silent before Sheriff Stilinski finally whispered, "Excuse me?"
"The feeder that we've been looking for? It's Stiles. And he's been using your old pain meds to deal with it, to hide it." The sheriff was dead silent this time. "Think about it!" Scott proffered. "He's been slipping… and we've been so wrapped up in trying to find the bad guy – and her feeder – that we were completely ignorant of Stiles, and…"
"And his suffering…" the sheriff finished. Scott ran a hand over his face, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. The expression on the sheriff's face made it clear that he was having trouble digesting the information. However, he seemed to accept what little of it he could. "Stiles has been… off ever since that trip to go to his cousin's funeral… I couldn't figure out what it was and I've been so damn busy…" He paused to look Scott directly in the eye. "You're sure about this? About Stiles being the… feeder… and about the… drugs…?" His voice cracked and already Scott could tell he was fighting back tears.
"I'm sure."
Without a word in response, the sheriff turned and bounded up the stairs. Scott was hot on his heels. Papa Stilinski didn't bother knocking as he yanked open Stiles' bedroom door.
They were met with an open window and an empty room.
OoooO
Allison had been conversing almost pleasantly in the hallway when the call came in. Lydia listened quietly, her eyes widening with each second until a tear fell down her face. "Lydia, what's wrong?" Allison asked for the tenth time. When no response came, she put both hands on her friend's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Lydia, talk to me…"
Eventually, Lydia moved the phone from her ear and pushed the 'sleep' button atop the device. "It was from Scott," she said quietly. "Isaac was supposed to call you, but I guess you didn't get the message…"
"I haven't checked my phone since lunch… What's going on? Please, tell me! Is this about Clyde's plan? Did they change their minds?" she asked.
Lydia knew she was referring to an earlier call from Derek; once again, Peter threw her under the supernatural bus and Clyde wanted to make a feeder-detector out of her. He seemed to have concocted a new, more efficient method of doing it, but from the sounds of the conversation, the others didn't seem quite so convinced. Lydia and Allison were going to go to Derek's loft after school to try and hammer out the details of this more-than-likely horrible plan. The message both pertained to and was completely obstinate of the complications that faced them. "No... It's Stiles."
Allison stared at her friend for a moment. "Stiles? What's wrong with Stiles?"
"He's…" Lydia's voice caught in her throat and she had to pause a moment to regain her composure. "He's the one," she finally whispered. "He's the feeder."
"…no," Allison mumbled. "No, no, no way. How is that even possible?"
"I should have seen it," Lydia continued on in a whisper. "I knew he wasn't always… And with his mom… and how he's been acting… I should have known…"
"Lydia?" Allison asked, trying to gain her attention. "Lydia, where is Stiles now?"
She shook her head. "They don't know… Scott, Isaac, and Derek are all out looking for him… Clyde, the Twins, and Peter are waiting for us… at the loft."
"Then we need to go," Allison replied. She gently grabbed Lydia's hand and led her out of the halls of their school and into the parking lot. Though she appeared stoic, there was a shine in her eyes and a tightness in her jaw that betrayed just how worried she was. Stiles being the feeder presented an entirely new set of problems… Things that would require all of their abilities to neutralize. It was a daunting task, but for Stiles' sake, her leadership qualities kicked in and she knew that she had to move quickly.
A few terrifying moments of speedy driving later and they arrived at the loft.
"Lydia," Aiden said, stepping forward as the two girls approached.
"No word?" Allison asked.
The Twins shook their heads. "Scott and the others are out there, but it's almost as if he vanished," Ethan replied. Allison let her gaze fall to the ground.
"Don't look so depressed!" exclaimed Peter, walking into the gloomy light from the shadows. "Didn't you hear? We have this fancy new plan that will almost certainly cause unbelievable pain and suffering for all those involved and only has a minimal chance of success… Seems right up our alley, don't you think?"
"If only it were that easy," Clyde said. He moved away from the maps spread across Derek's table and entered the circle of conversation. "When you put it that way, it only seems too simple… And too risky." He crossed his arms and looked directly at Lydia. "I'm not going to kill you; this… plan will not kill you. It just might… change you for a time. For the worse, of course."
"Of course," the strawberry blonde replied, fighting to keep control of her emotions. "So… do I get to hear what the plan is?" She looked over at the maps in an attempt to keep control of her emotions.
"By contacting you almost a month ago, I opened up a connection," Clyde explained. He pushed back his dark hood to reveal that vibrant red hair of his. Amber eyes peeked from underneath his bangs in an almost menacing manner, but if Lydia was frightened, she didn't show it. "Not just between us, but between you and the feeder… Stiles." He smirked. "That could have only happened if you already had a strong emotional connection with him. Not only are you a banshee, linked to death and despair, but you are also linked to this feeder on more than just a passersby-level."
"In other words," Peter interjected, "we got very, very lucky."
Clyde nodded. "I doubt that Stiles is aware of just how much he depends on you, on all of you, emotionally. Luck would have it that one of those he depends on just so happens to be a fairly useful conduit."
"You still haven't explained to me what you need to do… and how this is going to help Stiles," Lydia stated quietly. Clyde nodded.
"Yes, onto the plan." He stepped closer to Lydia; the wolves remained on high alert. "As you all know," he said, glancing around the loft, "the bite is how we subdue, how we control, how we feed… For werewolves, it is much the same, only your prey ends up in tatters instead of a loyal food bank." Scott's jaw twitched, the motion exaggerated by its unevenness. "I'm not saying all werewolves are monsters, just as not all maagrim are. What I'm saying is that… You use claws, correct?" he asked, suddenly changing direction and looking at Peter.
The older man squinted at Clyde. "For what? Slashing?"
"Remembering," Clyde corrected. "Connecting… Not just to the past, but to each other."
Peter crossed his arms as well. "It's a complex maneuver that usually fails, but yes. We do."
"And I can do the same," Clyde replied. He opened his mouth and the others watched as his teeth grew razor sharp. "Only my tools are my teeth." He turned to Lydia. "Let me bite you, let my poison enter your blood, your nervous system, your brain… use it to search for someone experiencing the same sensations. That is how you will find Stiles."
"But what about Lydia?" Aiden said, snapping his hand in the young woman's direction. "Now that we're finally in the loop, it doesn't sound like the side effects are really all that desirable."
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Clyde replied. "I've been informed of Lydia's past experiences with a werewolf bite and mistletoe. If my assumption is correct, she will be immune to the… lesser qualities of my venom."
"Your assumption," Aiden mocked.
"Aiden, please," Lydia said tersely. She spared a moment to glance at her friends; despair was written all over their faces… the way they were controlling their emotions was admirable. Finally, Lydia squared her shoulders and looked Clyde directly in the eyes. "I'll do it."
"Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Sit here."
Clyde motioned towards the edge of Derek's bed and Lydia gently sat down. She didn't need to admit that she was scared; her body trembled and sweat formed at her temples. The werewolves and Allison all stood less than two feet away, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Clyde looked at her expectantly, but said nothing, simply waiting for her to give the go-ahead. Not much later, she nodded.
"Focus on Stiles," Allison prompted quietly.
With gentle hands, the maagrim sat next to her and slowly pulled back the collar of her dress. "Hold still," he whispered. "This might sting." However, nothing could have prepared Lydia for the initial agony of the bite.
Clyde sank his teeth into Lydia's soft skin, eliciting a blood curdling scream out of the girl. The werewolves growled and covered their ears while Allison made a move towards Lydia and Clyde. "Lydia!" she shouted. "Find Stiles! Find him!" However, the screaming persisted. Just as Allison was about to pry the maagrim off of her, Lydia silenced herself and whispered, "Wait…"
Now that they could hear, everyone looked into Lydia's eyes. They were darting back and forth rapidly, non-blinking, tears falling down her face. "Wait…" she whispered again. It was obvious that whatever she was seeing and feeling had nothing to do with the loft, the bite… No, Lydia was somewhere else
"WAIT!" she screeched.
At this, Clyde practically threw himself to the floor, letting out his own cry. The werewolves covered their ears yet again, Allison also joining them in an attempt to block out the screams that flooded the loft. Suddenly, the front door slid open and Scott, Isaac, and Derek all stumbled in. "What happened!?" Scott growled, already in his wolf-like state. Isaac and Derek followed suit.
"Shut him up!" Peter shouted in response, looking over at the writhing Clyde. Thinking quickly, Scott released a guttural roar… it did the trick. Clyde snapped out of it, managing to curl up into a tiny, trembling ball.
"What the hell was that?" Aiden growled.
Ethan snarled in response. "I'd like to know myself."
"It was me," Stiles replied, surprising them all.
"Jesus!"
"Lydia…!?"
"What the hell!?"
Everyone whipped around to see Lydia standing before them, her face blank… save the thick black liquid that seeped from the corners of her eyes and oozed from her ears, nose, and the corners of her mouth. It was a rather macabre sight.
"Lydia…" Allison whispered.
"I was asleep," said Stiles' voice, though Lydia's lips formed the words. The entire scenario was deeply disturbing. "Why… why did you wake me up…? Let me sleep…"
"Stiles…?" Scott braved, taking a step towards Lydia. The young woman's pupils had expanded to swallow over half of the white of her eyes. It instantly reminded him of when Stiles attacked them in the locker room.
"Scott…" Stiles' voice choked out. It seemed as though he was having trouble forming the words. "Please… leave me alone… This is for the best…"
"No, it isn't!" Scott replied. In the corner of his eye he saw Clyde force himself upright. He looked similarly affected – blood liquid oozing for nearly every orifice.
"S… Scott…" he wheezed. He tried to stand, but was unsuccessful. Allison appeared at his side to help him sit up. "Scott, find him…"
The alpha turned back to Lydia, but her frightening eyes were fixed on Clyde. "I'm… sorry," Stiles said through her.
Clyde scoffed. "I knew what I was doing," he replied.
"And now you will die," Stiles stated. The room was deathly silent.
"Most likely," Clyde said. He coughed, blackened blood splattering the floor. "But she has to be stopped… you have to be stopped."
Lydia's head cocked to the side. "I am stopping her… this is the only way… now, please… let me sleep…"
Suddenly, Lydia's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed. "Lydia!" Aiden shouted as he rushed to her side. Scott quickly followed.
"Is she alright!?" he asked. However, with a quick and heightened listen he was able to determine that Lydia's breathing was regular and her heart was beating steadily. "Clyde!" he growled, turning to the maagrim in their midst. He was met with another grotesque surprise.
Clyde was convulsing violently on the floor, his veins prominent in his neck and forehead as the strange throws wracked his body. "A… ssk... H-her… wha… where… Shhhe'll know…" He gave one final twist before falling limp.
"…is he…" Peter began.
"Dead?" Allison asked. She placed two fingers at Clyde's neck and waited. After a moment, her hand fell to her side. "Yeah, he's dead…"
"How the hell did he die?" Peter asked. "And how did he neglect to mention that to us?"
"I poisoned him…"
"Lydia!" Allison exclaimed, moving to the side of her now-conscious friend. "Here," she said, pulling off her old sweater and using it wipe away at Lydia's neck. The banshee grabbed it from her and began to dab at her face. "What…"
"I saw it all… I heard it all… I heard her… 'Daliah'… She has Stiles… and she killed Clyde…"
"How? All he did was bite you," Isaac pointed out.
"Wait… remember how he was when he drained the corpses of the other maagrim… Daliah's venom?" Scott asked. "If left overs made him that sick… and, for a moment, Lydia was directly connected to Stiles, a living, breathing source…"
"…Stiles must be completely poisoned," Isaac finished. "And it killed Clyde."
"He should have said something," Scott growled.
"It's too late now," Peter snapped. "More importantly, let's find out what we've learned. Lydia?" he said, directing his attention to the young woman. "Stiles spoke with us for a moment, as you're probably aware… I don't suppose he happened to show you where he was hiding as well? If this 'Daliah' can kill from a distance, then I'd like to get this killing and avenging and such over with."
Lydia nodded and, with the help of Aiden, slowly stood. "There was… fear… and confusion everywhere… I was seeing through him… Like… borrowing his eyes… He knew I was there, but he didn't say anything to Daliah… She was too busy… feeding…" She shuddered as a single normal tear fell down her cheek. "He's in so much pain… and he thinks this is the only way he can save everyone…"
"Did you see anything you recognized?" asked Scott, trying to reign in his urgency. It wasn't Lydia's fault that Stiles' mind was a hazed, poisoned, drugged mess… but time was of the essence.
Much to his dismay, Lydia shook her head. "No… I didn't see anything… but…"
"But!?"
"He whispered something to me…" she said quietly. Her eyes widened and darted back and forth, as if reliving the experience in her head. "He said… don't jump."
"…and!?" Scott prompted, but Lydia just stared at him. "Damnit, that tells us nothing!"
"You're wrong," Derek said, speaking up for the first time. He stepped forward over Clyde's twisted corpse and pulled a map off of the table. "Lydia was facing this map when Clyde bit her, right?" he asked. Scott nodded. "Look… we've searched nearly every inch of this city, right? Except for here." He pointed to the last two sections on the map. "Look at his building, here… by the train tracks." Everyone crowded in close.
Scott saw it first. "Don't jump… the tracks," he whispered, pointing to the symbol that meant 'danger'. "There's a bunch of signs here about not jumping the tracks… too many kids were hurt playing chicken… I remember the assembly about it in the sixth grade."
"He's leading us to this building… if we move now, we might be able to catch him before the maagrim finds out he warned us."
"Then what the hell are we waiting for," Isaac said enthusiastically.
Without further ado, the entire group set off to the old building by the railroad tracks.
…the disappointment at finding an empty building, heavy with the scent of Daliah's venom and Stiles' blood, was nearly crippling.
Despite their searching, the doubling-back, and endless texts and calls, there was no sign of the monster or Stiles anywhere. The sheriff, already a mess from discovering what Stiles had got mixed up in, filed a missing persons' report on his son… However, neither hair nor hide was seen of the teen.
When two weeks passed in this manner, Scott and his pack could only assume the worst… and it crushed them.
OoooO
Holy CRAP! Have 15 pages. :D