I know this is late... I like to update almost every other day. So this is waaay beyond schedule. Sorry ):
I hope this chapter will clear everything up for you guys since there were a few questions like, "you're not going to kill Summer off, are you?" and "could you explain a bit more what the Wisps are?".
So this is a FAKE history chapter.
Hope it doesn't disappoint ):
Let me know what you guys think!
I don't know if this reader wants to be anonymous but thank you for helping me with this chapter. (: Your input is completely appreciated!
Derek pounded his fists against the bag, grunting, trying to get rid of the stress. When he came back to his house last night, Scott and Stiles had gone, leaving the Hale house empty and lifeless. As usual. He missed the days when he would come home to shouting and laughing, all that noise. But he didn't care this time. He needed - wanted - the silence.
He ignored the sweat as it trickled past his brows and into his eyes.
He stepped back, looking at the bag that he had beaten to shreds, the leather skin ripped everywhere, the stuffing tumbling out. The fourth bag he destroyed since last night.
Derek froze, hearing a heartbeat and footsteps approach. "Erica," he muttered, when her scent drifted into the living room turned personal gym. He thought about shouting at her before she entered, ordering her to leave him alone. But he bit his tongue, deciding that it would upset her. A happy Erica is just a smidge tolerable than a miserable Erica.
"What do you want?" he said, irritated.
Erica either ignored it or didn't notice. "Nothing. I was just bored." She raised her brows, seeing the ruined punching bags. "I thought you bought them for us."
"I did." He grabbed a gallon bottle of water, quickly drinking it entirely.
"Does that mean we don't have to punch those stupid bags during tonight's practice?"
Glaring at her snide tone, he snapped, "Those stupid bags help you get stronger."
"We're already strong."
He slammed the empty bottle against his hand, crushing it. "No, you're not. Not until you pass Scott mentally and physically."
She watched as he attached another bag to the ceiling, staring at his bare back and the powerful muscles as they rippled from the movement.
She remembered the first time she saw Derek shirtless. She had always known he was physically perfect, but didn't know how fucking hot he was until their first practice when he barged into the basement of that abandoned restaurant, yanking his shirt over his head. Derek had turned to look at her with a smile, knowing the effect he had on her, but not caring that she was aroused. She had been horrified and embarrassed.
But now she just leers and dares him to take her then and there.
"You're doing it again," he said, kicking at the bag with a loud smack. "And you better stop before I break your other wrist like last time." He put his hands on both sides, steadying it before he kicked it again.
Erica laughed, sauntering towards him. She walked around to the other side of the bag, opposite of him, and placed her hands on his. Peering over the bag, she whispered, "But I like it rough."
He slipped his hands out of hers and quickly rammed his fist against the bag. He smirked when she stumbled back, caught off guard when it slammed against her. "Why are you here, Erica? You should be in school." he asked, continuing his abuse on the bag.
Her heels scuffed against the floor. She straightened her close, huffing in annoyance. "Could you not? I'm wearing new shoes." She ignored his glare. "And besides, school is over. Isaac and Boyd are taking their fine time getting here." She flicked a lock of hair away from her eyes. "I on the other hand am a good little beta by being on time. You should reward me," she said, winking playfully at him.
He glanced at her. "Then be a good little beta and stop talking."
Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she walked to face his back, hips swaying. She briefly relished in the staccato sound. Years ago, when she was human, she would have never worn heels let alone cute flats. But now as a werewolf, her ratty, filthy sneakers were replaced with heels of various heights and numerous fancy flats.
"So… What are you going to do about Summer."
He stood, rigid. "Who told you about Summer?"
"Derek, Derek, Derek," Erica whispered as she leaned against his back, arms wrapped around his shoulder and crossing in front of his chest.
Erica had been walking to the Biology Lab when she heard the hushed yet panicked voices of Scott and Stiles. She was about to walk past them but then she heard them say "Derek" and of course she had to know. Erica walked quietly to the door, hiding from the window, and listened – eavesdropped – to their conversation.
"Think about it, Scott. We tell Derek about how she was bitten, and he goes Berserkers on us!"
"And?"
"And? What do you mean and? And? And I think Derek is the one who bit Summer!"
"Oh, shit. You think so?"
"I know so!"
"Wait, Stiles. You told Derek that Summer hates the werewolf that bit her. In other words, she hates Derek."
"So?"
"What do you mean so?"
"I mean, I'd hate him, too! You hated Peter and you still do."
"That's not the point. I'm saying that now that Derek knows what happened, how's everything going to play out? You can't be mates with someone who hates you."
She didn't know who Summer was but judging by how pleasant Derek had been lately, Erica knew they were telling the truth.
"Derek." She traced his ear with the tip of her finger, slowly moving down to lightly stroke his throat. She teasingly tapped her fingers against where his heart beats.
"Does it hurt? Your heart?" She pressed her lips against his cheek.
He felt her lips pout.
Derek growled and grabbed her arms, flinging her over his head and onto the ground. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not interested in you. At all."
She hit the hard floor with a bang. She bared her fangs, hissing at him. "Until you realize she's a distraction."
"She's not a distraction," he said, glowering at her.
"Yes, she is," she said, pushing herself off the ground. "Ever since you met her, you've been neglecting us, forgetting about the Wisps." She sashayed towards him, resting her hand flat against his chest, letting it crawl to the back of his neck, bringing him closer to her. "And you forgot that the full moon is coming up."
He ignored her, going back to punching the bag in a steady beat.
"Didn't you hear what Stiles said? She hates you," she murmured against his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against her lips. "She hates you."
Derek squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth. It's true. That is what Stiles said… "I don't care."
"You should!" she snapped. "She's human. She would never understand you. Understand why being a werewolf is so glorious."
"She said she hates the wolf," Derek finally said. "She didn't say she hates me."
"There's no difference. The wolf and you are the same."
"You're wrong."
"She doesn't understand. What you did… You gave her a gift," she said, her other hand trailing down his chest. "And she threw it away. Ungrateful. Just forget about her. There are plenty of other wolves in the forest. You can find another mate."
"Shut up, Erica," he snarled, shredding through the leather with his claws.
Erica frowned, letting Derek go. She looked at him, studying his expression, his stance. "She's not just your mate," she said, finally understanding. "You actually are in love with her."
Derek gave her a look, confirming her words. He had wanted to keep his pack out of the loop, to tell them after the full moon. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd already had too much to worry about, Derek didn't want to add more to the stress.
"So, the Alpha wolf and Derek Hale have both found their mate. Charming," Erica said, uncertainty in her voice. "Does she know?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"When will you tell her?"
"I don't know."
She nodded, slowly, trying to wrap her mind around the new information. "Do us a favor."
"What?"
"Stay away from her."
He growled, stepping towards her menacingly. "I can't do that, Erica."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
"Derek, we already have too much on our hands right now," she said, trying to explain. "I'm happy for you. I know Isaac and Boyd will be, too. But we have a Supernatural murderer to deal with. And so many other things." She placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. "This is the first full moon since you met Summer. How do you think your wolf will react? It's too much at once. Keep your distance for the next two weeks. Actually, I think you should stay away from her until we get rid of the Wisps."
"You don't get it," he said, eyes shut and fists clenched.
"Try. Because right now, you don't need any distractions. Your first priority is your pack."
Scott stared, half impressed half not, when Stiles was able to fit a fistful of Dorito chips into his mouth. "How do you do that?" he asked genuinely curious.
"Do what?" Stiles asked, munching with his mouth open, tiny orange crumbs falling out onto his laptop. He quickly brushed them off, not caring as they landed on the carpet.
"Eat that much and not get sick?"
"Oh, I do get sick, trust me." Stiles finished his Coke and crushed the can. "And trust me when I say you do not want to be there when I do."
Scott shuddered, trying to not picture Stiles surrounded by a puddle of orange vomit.
"Guys, can we please get back to topic?" Allison groaned, dropping back to rest her head on the pillows.
The three of them were in Stiles' bedroom, researching and studying different tactics to destroy the Wisps – not for their upcoming calculus test like they told their parents.
None of them wanted to hurt Summer. She had become a close friend.
"I got it," Stiles said, a look of pride on his face, tongue wiggling around inside his mouth.
Scott and Allison jolted from their daydreams and laziness, paying attention to Stiles.
Stiles looked back at them, confused. "What?"
"What do you mean what?" Scott said, impatient. "What is it?"
They watched, intently, as Stiles stuck his hand in his mouth and pulled out a sharp piece of the corner of a Dorito. "This. I got it. It was stuck between my teeth."
"Ugh, Stiles!" Allison shouted, jumping on Stiles with his blanket, quickly wrapping his head with it.
"Hey, get off!" Stiles exclaimed.
"No! Not until you find a solution!"
"Why is it always me? Why do I have to do everything?" he complained, his voice muffled.
"Because you're the best at it! It takes you half the time it takes us to find what we're looking for," Scott said, exasperated. He rolled his eyes hen Stiles yanked the blanket off his head, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, please, Stiles. Humbleness is not becoming of you," he sarcastically said.
"Well, since you acknowledge my amazingness, I will reluctantly acquiesce," Stiles said feigning a haughty expression. "But there's no need to do anymore research."
"Why not?" Allison asked.
"Because I already found a solution." Stiles grinned, a triumphant look and a fist in the air. "And it requires no pain, no sacrifice."
"Well, what is it?" Scott asked.
"Remember what happened with Jackson?"
"Yeah."
"Well, it's kinda like that. Having a master. We need to find who distributed the coins. And get him to retrieve them back from the people he handed them out to. Boom!" Stiles shouted, slamming his hand against his leg. "Just like that!"
"Just like that?" Allison questioned, uncertain. "It sounds too easy, you know? Going from human sacrifice to… making him get the coins back."
"Not easy," Stiles said, shaking his head.
"Of course. There just had to be a catch." Scott ran a hand down his face, exhausted. "There can never be a simple solution to anything."
"As I was saying, before Scott interrupted me," Stiles said, tilting his head back to pour some chips into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing slowly, he continued, "Not easy, but safe. And that's all that's important. Safe."
"True." Allison nodded, grabbing a chip. "So what did you find out?"
"I was getting nowhere with the Wisps. I mean, these things have been really good at keeping their existence a secret." Stiles paused, rubbing the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. "So I took a step back, literally. I stepped back and looked at everything from an aerial view. Like a hawk."
"And?"
"And I realized we've been trying to find the answers from three different ways."
"Which are?" Scott asked.
"Number one, the Wisps." Stiles lifted another finger. "Number two, Summer. Number three, the necklace."
"And?"
Stiles looked at Scott and Allison, raising his brows. "Seriously? You don't know?"
"If we did, would we be asking you?"
"Hmm… True. Well, anyways, then it hit me. We had everything on the table. The Wisps, Summer, the necklace, and the coins. So…" Stiles waved his hands in a circular gesture, excitedly and trying to get the idea to click in his friends' minds. "So…"
Allison gasped. "The coins! We've been totally neglecting the coins!"
Scott gaped, finally understanding what Stiles was suggesting. "Shit, Stiles!"
"Yeah!" he said. "I didn't realize that until we came back from Derek's place. When I did, I started researching online to find some coin myths and legends. And anything resembling these symbols."
"What did you find?" Scott asked.
They watched as Stiles pulled out a folder from under his mattress.
"I found this," Stiles answered. He handed them the papers he had printed out last night.
Allison took the papers and started to skim, reading the parts that Stiles had conveniently highlighted.
"Dude, you got this all from Wikipedia," Scott said, when he glanced over Allison's shoulder to read the papers.
"So?" Stiles said, mouthful of doritos. "Wiki is a good place to start."
"Well, it's where people dick around. You know, put lies and joke about serious stuff."
"Well, it's also where people with knowledge can share with readers. You know, put truths and not joke about serious stuff," Stiles defended.
"Hey," Allison interrupted. "It says here that in English folklore, Puck is a mischievous, playful sprite."
"I could use some Sprite right now," Stiles grumbled, seeing that he had drank all the soda.
She smiled, amused at Stiles' comment. "Anyways, he likes to prank people and lead them off their paths. You know, tricking them to follow him. And here's the important connection – he uses echoes and lights and sometimes mirages. Describes the Wisps perfectly. So this master could be using the coins to have people stray from their paths of no addiction."
"So, he's a prankster," Scott said. "But why is he killing people?"
"Centuries of being imprisoned in the coins can do some serious damage to your playful personality. Turns you nasty and hungry for revenge and violence. Anyways, according this," Allison said, looking at a different source, "Puck somehow ended up in Wallachia, after Vlad Țepeș – " she looked at them, assuming that they didn't know who Vlad was, " – you know, Vlad the Impaler, Vlad the Third…"
"Yeah, Allison, we know. I wrote about The Impaler for my biology paper," Stiles said.
"Wait, biology?" Scott asked, curious and in disbelief.
"Yeah. Impaling and human dismemberment works really great with biology."
"It's so difficult sticking to topic with you two," Allison sighed. "Anyways, after Vlad burned through a region of the Danube, which apparently was a nesting ground for a lot of pucas which are spirits who worship Puck - "
"Okay, enough background. Just tell me about Puck and the coins," Scott interrupted. "Since you and Stiles already know everything."
"Well, stories vary but the most common relating to the coins is this one. In retaliation, Puck tricked Vlad into entering Hungary to seek sanctuary after one of his failed conquest. Turns out he didn't get it. Got arrested instead - "
"And?"
"And Vlad eventually found out the truth. So after he escaped, he tracked down Puck - "
"And?"
"Would you please shut up and let me finish, Scott? So then he captured him, ripped out his soul, tore it into many pieces, and trapped each in these coins.
"Like Voldemort and the horcruxes," Stiles mumbled.
"Yeah, like that. And to make sure the pieces never get freed, he branded them with this symbol." She pointed to the zoomed shots of the coins, emphasizing the geometric symbol on each.
"So anyone who has these coins control Puck's soul?" Scott asked.
"Not that simple. It's like a scene from a typical, indie, awful supernatural movie," she answered. "You say a chant, sprinkle some of your blood on it, and done. You control Puck."
"So basically, Puck is like the creator of the Wisps. Vlad pulls a Voldemort on Puck, rips out his soul and shreds it into many pieces, each locked in a coin. And the master who owns these coins has been passing them around to kill. How do we stop it?"
"The coins work only for someone who wants revenge. And the only way to end this is to have the master forgive the wrongdoer," Stiles said.
"You think this killer has some problem with relapsed people? May be why he or she has been passing them out," Scott said.
"So we find the master, persuade him or her to forgive, then retrieve the coins from his targets," Allison said.
"That does not sound easy," Stiles said, holding on to his chair as it spun around.
"Like you said." Allison looked at her friends. "Not easy, but at least Summer will be safe."
They all stared at the photos, worried about what would happen if they didn't find the killer soon.
Thanks to everyone who MRAFed! (messaged, reviewed, alert, favorited) And even if you didn't, thank you anyways for being patient with me and reading this fanfiction - putting up with my grammar, expositions, ridiculousness, and whatever else is in this. :D :D :D
