Chapter Ten: Wolfsbane

Stiles felt cold. Probably the coldest he'd ever felt in his life- all except for the electric burns marring his body, those were freaking BURNING- but yeah- cold.

They'd shut out the lights- the first time they'd done that since he'd been there. Amanda must have been pretty pissed- although, he guessed, if his captive wasn't giving up the goods, after all that effort, he'd be pretty pissed too.

He wasn't just cold- he was hungry. Mark still hadn't fed him- wether that was his own decision or Amanda's, Stiles had no clue- but it was pretty shit for him.

The darkness- and the days with pain as his only companion (except for Mark- but Stiles had revoked his traitor privileges), had left Stiles feeling empty and cold. He just wanted to go home- right now more than ever. He missed everyone so much- but he knew what his chances were- if they hadn't found him by now, hadn't found his scent- would they ever?

He wouldn't give them up though. He loved them too much- they probably knew it too. He was going to die for them- and they were going to watch…

At least the pack would make the hunter's deaths slow, painful- that's if the pack ever caught them.

Stiles shivered- he knew he'd given up hope. What he needed to do now was be strong for the rest, stronger than he'd ever been…then soon he'd get to see his mum…

Stiles had fallen back asleep by the time those dickhead hunters had come back down again.

The light burned his eyes when it was turned on- but when it was, he noticed that 'sparky' was still in the room with him…please don't let that mean what he thought it meant.

Amanda caught him eyeing the device, "Oh don't worry! That's just in case I'm feeling playful later!- we've got other things in mind for you right now!" she said sadistically.

Stiles really, really didn't know whether to be happy about that or to be freaking terrified.

"Stiles- you know Mark." Amanda went on to say- stretching a hand out to gesture at her elder comrade.

Stiles glared at Mark, an action he had taken to doing every time he saw the traitorous cockroach.

"He's brought something very special with him today." Amanda said- grinning evilly. Great- she was being vague- just like a comic-book villain or an evil mastermind.

"Oh yay! I love show-and-tell!" Stiles said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Mark." Amanda said- sounding just as exasperated as Stiles was at this point.

Mark then took something out of a plastic bag he was carrying- a vial- and was that a syringe!? They were seriously not thinking about drugging him again? How well had that worked last time?!

"Dude…the truth-serum bullshit only works in the movies. Last time you tried it I fell asleep- remember?" he asked, eyeing the syringe- which Mark was now filling up with strange, watery-purple liquid out of the vial- with distrust.

"Just shut up Stiles- this is more for the people watching than it is for you." Amanda said, as Mark came over to prod at a vain in his arm. What did she mean by that?

Suddenly there was a sharp prick- u push of the plunger- and everthing went cold and black.

They were all staring at the screen in anticipation now. Stiles had got this glassy look in his eyes the moment the stuff was in him- like he was looking into the distance but not quite seeing.

Amanda was facing the camera now, blocking their view of their friend and speaking to them in a triumphant voice, "So." She said, "He's not giving you up…I guess we'll have to make you guys hand yourselves in then right? Watch closely Chris- this is how it's really done." Allison saw her dad bristle at that- and put a calming hand on his shoulder.

"The stuff we've injected him is a special breed of Wolfsbane. It was invented for the use of the torture of werewolves- but it works just as well for humans too." Stiles moaned behind her.

"Ahh- it's taking effect! Good. What this wolfsbane does- is it targets the darkest part of the victim's subconscious… the part where the nightmares spring from. Focusing on that it…makes them not have the most pleasant of experiences…making them, see, hear and even feel things that would even make Leon cry."

She was stepping back from the camera, going in to stand behind Stiles now, who was writhing at twitching- his eyes screwed shut tightly.

"What do you think Stiles is afraid of?" She asked.

Stiles was sweating, his hands, even the one with the broken wrist- scrabbling at the armrests- his legs kicking out wildly and his head flailing from side to side.

It was almost unbearable for them to watch…

…and then the screaming began- the powerful- agonised and raw screaming ripping its way out of Stiles throat. On and on and on it went- seemingly never ending- just like his writhing. Amanda had a sadistic smile on her pretty face, watching Stiles intently.

Isaac was the first to leave- running straight upstairs to puke his guts out into the toilet.

Allison followed- running sobbing out of the house- Scott hot on her heels.

Peter silently stalked out, calmly stealing a bottle of the Argent's finest alcohol on his way.

Then went Chris- steering out Lydia and Jackson as he went.

The Sheriff and Derek though. They stayed. They couldn't go- they both knew it and they both hated the fact that all they could do was just sit there and watch. Listen to his screams. See his tears.

It was worse than anything he'd ever been through.

They were all dead- Gerard had finally done it. He'd killed them.

His dad was gone. He was an orphan now.

Scott, Isaac, Allison, Erica, Boyd, Lydia, Danny and Jackson…he had no friends now…And Derek. Derek was gone.

He was standing in the cemetery- surrounded by their corpses…bloody and rotted- maggots chewing on the stale smelling flesh.

Stiles tried to move away- he needed to get away- but when he turned to move a pale, rotted hand clutched around his leg- stopping him.

"Where 'ya going Stiles?" Lydia asked…her milky white-clouded green eyes looking up at him.

Her hair was no longer the pretty strawberry blonde it used to be. It was now falling off in clumps- bloody, matted and covered in filth and rot.

Stiles screamed.

"What's wrong?" Scott's body asked- his mouth overflowing with blood as he talked- spitting it out onto Stiles' face.

The rest of them were moving in on him now too- asking him questions, wondering why he was crying- covering up his nose to their foul, dead, stench.

It was too much- too much.

They started talking again- blaming him. Why hadn't he saved them? Why couldn't he have researched better? Been a better friend? A better son? Why did he get Scott bitten in the first place? Why? Why? WHY?

His friends moved in, Lydia- Derek and Isaac were attacking now- physically as well as verbally. The rest joined in after that.

They were all clawing at his face as he screamed, ripping off his skin, making him just as bloody as them.

He was screaming as hard as he could- at the top of his lungs- but his throat was soon torn out- so he just kicked and trashed- but soon enough his bones were all broken. His body as bloody and dead as the rest of them- the maggots feeding of him too now.

"Why didn't you save us Stiles? Why?"