(Stiles refers to 'Circles of Hell' in Co-Captain s01e10 and while this is probably a common thing for people to be aware of, I like to think that he might well have actually read Dante's 'Inferno' during one of his research binges. He probably would have because of the gruesome punishments.)
CHAPTER 34 - SEEPING THROUGH THE CRACKS
There is glass along his back, digging in, and arms around his shoulders and a warm pulsing heart beat next to his own.
Stiles cranks open one eye, to see the dim interior of the train. He relaxes slightly, because Jethro is curled up just ahead of him, and Lydia is tucked against his side. Around them is the shattered glass of the window of the train that had crashed down on top of them, and the train itself is still sitting on its side around them.
"Jethro?" Stiles asks, because he can feel Lydia's heart beat next to him, but Jethro, after doing his energy teleportation after the demon and then having a train chucked on top of him is probably worse for wear.
"Am I still alive?" Jethro groans, shifting his hand from where he had flung it over his eyes, "I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed."
"Hey!" there is pounding on the train wall. It's actually the roof, but after tipping so violently it's now the wall. "Hey guys! You okay?"
It's one of the hunters, and Stiles doesn't know them well enough to know which one. "We're fine, Dean!" Lydia calls back, shifting from next to him, "What happened about the demons?"
"They took off!" Allison's voice joins the others.
"Why do things keep collapsing on me?" Stiles bemoans, thinking at least this time Lydia is with him. He tugs her up with him, and reaches out a hand for Jethro to take.
"I feel like a train fell on me," Jethro groans again, and he opens with one eye, grinning to see how well his joke has been taken. Stiles meets his gaze, unimpressed. He's also in the thought process of wondering where the hell Derek found this subway car, which - considering there's not even a subway line anywhere near the town, so where did that come from? Did he have it imported?
"Are Nate and Isaac in there with you?" Lexi calls.
Stiles looks about the train, and Jethro lurches forwards as if he's drunk. "Nate's here!" he calls.
"Stop shouting," the girl grumbles, "Just stop," she waves from over by a seat. There's another window nearby that she had let fall on her. Jethro sinks down on a seat next to her, perching on it sideways and staring at her as if to check that she's alright. Glass cuts on her face are healing already, and Stiles winces as he attempts to orientate himself in the sideways carriage.
"Isaac isn't!" he yells out for the others to hear him.
"That's okay - he got under," Scott's voice is strained, "Now he and Allison are making out."
Stiles pauses to register that, "If you kick him out of the house he's not staying with me," he complains.
"I've been kicked out," Scott whines, "He can't stay with me!"
"Make him stay with Allison!"
"Her dad might kill me!"
"How are you and Scott even friends?" Lydia looks like she wants to roll her eyes at their situation.
"That's a good question," one of the hunters comments, and there is a loud crash as they hit something against the side of the train.
"He followed me home," Scott shouts from outside.
"Scott let me follow him home." Stiles says at the same time.
Lydia's huff of annoyance goes unheard as part of the train caves under whatever the guys outside are doing to it. It looks like a roof door that they somehow managed to lever open.
"Fuck my life," he mutters, as he helps Lydia towards their exit, "My life is weird."
"You're saying that to a banshee," Lydia reminds him.
"Screw that," Jethro scoffs behind him, "This town is weird."
"No weirder than any other town!" Stiles defends.
"Dude," Stiles turns just in time to see Jethro shake his head, "There is a wolf pack made out of two werewolves, a banshee, a hunter and a human, your ley lines are off the chart for all kinds of magnetic fields, there is literally a giant dead tree beacon and three of you see ghosts. Not to mention I'm pretty sure the economics teacher keeps talking to an imaginary student."
Stiles has no good reply for that.
Everything was so messed up.
Dean considers his options for a moment before deciding that no, that was an accurate summation of the situation.
The dual werewolf pack of four are all healing, and they all finally have shifted back to human and the gold and red eyes have slipped back to normal human colours. The coatl kid won't leave Sam alone, questions running out of his mouth in an endless stream.
"So can I do anything other than manipulate energy?"
"Weather - I think. People used to pray to your kind for a successful harvest."
"Awesome! I'm like Storm! Except I don't have the hot black chick thing going for me."
"For the love of-" Dean winces from the endless babble as they enter the loft, and Lydia shoots him a sympathetic smile.
"So maybe next time," she says, "You won't be so quick to leave us behind."
"Maybe next time," he mocks her, "You won't be so quick to teleport straight into trouble."
"It wasn't that bad," the young Argent tries to find some sort of positive. "They didn't do anything."
"Yet." Stiles spits out. Dean likes the kid, hyperactive as he is, because he has the right outlook on things. "Yet. They haven't done anything yet, which means they have yet to do stuff, and they have yet to go on a murdering rampage."
"Well we aren't dead," Isaac offers.
Stiles snorts, "That's because it's more fun watching us struggle. They're evil," he shrugs, "It must amuse them."
"Evil?" Dean asks, "What do you know about evil, Stilinski?"
The teen flails for a little as the door to the loft slides open. "I once managed to convince Derek to bake cookies while cheerful pop music played on the radio. It was great. He was listening to it with this sulky expression on his face. Angrily listening to it, because he couldn't figure out how to turn the radio off." he announces, one finger waving in the air as he makes his point.
Dean considers this as he follows behind. Stiles continues to walk backwards, "That is pretty evil," Scott acknowledges with a tired grin. It's late, the sun is setting outside and they're all dust covered, weary and frustrated.
And confused. They have bits and pieces of the story and can't figure out the plot yet. That and every time Dean blinks he sees the ghostly figure of his half-brother flickering out of sight, leaving behind a hollow pit in his stomach.
"I need to get drunk," the older Winchester pauses before orientating himself in the middle of the loft and making for a door at the far end with a happy sound, "There better be alcohol in your kitchen," he shouts over his shoulder.
"We have a kitchen?" Scott frowns and looks about to as if the kitchen door is going to magically open with a glow of light and a singing choir.
Dean pauses a metre from said door, spinning around. "You've been hanging out here for how may months?" he asks disgusted, "And you haven't wondered where the food comes from?"
"Not really…"
Stiles gapes open-mouthed at his friend. "It's like I don't even know you." he shakes his head in disgust.
"Derek has a kitchen?" Scott asks, wide-eyed.
"Oh, Scotty-boy, Alpha of my heart," Stiles wraps one arm around Scott's shoulder, patting him on the chest with his other hand, "He still has to eat. It takes energy to lurk and look good while doing so."
"Okay, who is this Derek I keep hearing about?" Dean asks. He's confused with what this has to do with his booze or food.
"A creepy-leather-jacketed guy who lives out in the woods in a burned out house."
"Oh, you mean Derek Hale," Stiles has no idea where Sam got 'Hale' from that, but he just nods. "The fugitive?" Sam frowns.
Stiles and Scott cough, "No - not technically," Stiles draws out the word, "We might have accidentally accused him of incorrectly being a serial killer?"
"How do you accidently accuse someone of being a serial killer?" Jethro frowns, trying to work out how that accident must come to pass.
"Who cares?" Nate shoves past her friend, heading towards where Dean stands half-way to the kitchen door. "Food sounds good," her grin is, "Like, really good. We can talk over food, right guys?"
"So our problems-" the gang all lounge about the loft in various places, while Stiles stalks in front of the wall of deaths. Nate stands to one side, her arms crossed. Jethro lounges unceremoniously on the table, munching on a bowl of lettuce of all things, while Lexi curls up at his side, watching with wide blue eyes. Sam awkwardly sits next to the pair, while his brother - younger or older Stiles has yet to work out, but he thinks older if the protective stiff stance is anything to go by - paces behind the sofa.
Scott and Isaac sit side by side, hands clasps in their laps like obedient little puppies - ahem - students, while Allison has drawn up a chair and is in the process of waxing her bow string, occasionally glancing up at him.
"Demons in town," Lydia lists off, perched on the edge of the table. Stiles ticks them off on his fingers as she goes through them, "People getting ill from the nemeton-"
"The neme-what?" Sam sits slightly straighter, "You didn't tell us about that!" he accuses Lydia.
"I didn't know," she twirls a strand of hair about her finger.
"I'll show you tomorrow," Allison promises them.
"People getting ill?" Dean presses, "How?"
Stiles glances between the hunters, "It affects the strongest personality trait-" he's suddenly uneasy, just because they're all immune doesn't mean everyone else is. If these two hunters are affected then the pack of werewolves sitting there probably aren't going to be safe. "It twists it. Changes the way people think and act. It gets worse and worse until eventually it kills you." he points to the map, "It affects the people in this radius more strongly but it's starting to spread." he widens the circle, to include his, Allison's and Scott's house within the circle. It now covers half the town, including the loft.
"Why aren't you affected?" Sam asks, gesturing at everyone, "Are you too young?"
"We're werewolves," Isaac says, "And I guess a banshee and quatze-whatever-"
"KETS-ull-KOH-ahtl," Sam pronounces, "Or you can just stick with coatl." Isaac smiles and nods but keeps silent, the look on his face saying he's not going to be caught dead trying to pronounce that.
"It makes us immune," Scott leans forwards.
"So why aren't you affected by this illness?" Sam asks Stiles and Allison, pointing at them. "You're both human, right? Is it because you're part of the pack?"
"No, we sacrificed ourselves to a tree," Stiles says, seriously. He has to repeat himself though, "No, we actually sacrificed ourselves to the Nemeton. It kind of gives us immunity. At least that's the theory since our working expert is currently saving little fluffy bunnies and kittens."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"This Nemeton," Dean steps forwards to the map, "It's-" he circles around where Stiles had been pointing, "There-ish?"
"There," Stiles points it out to him on the map. The house they had been checking out isn't nearby, but he makes a note of the address. They have to go back there at some point to pick up Allison and Scott's car and his dog. And maybe even inform his dad about the dead woman in the attic.
Dean crosses his arms, his expression dark as he turns around to Sam, "It's like Wyoming."
"What?" Sam's on his feet in an instance, and the werewolves tense.
"Like what in Wyoming?" Lexi looks up at him, asking the thing everybody wants to hear.
"The Devil's Gate," Dean says, "A hell mouth," he adds, looking around, and Stiles' blood runs cold. "A door way to Hell."
There's an awkward silence and Lydia taps her heels, "Well that would explain the demons."
"That house you found?" Sam sinks back down again, "The barriers between dimensions are weaker there, which is presumably why the demon was hanging there. She was checking it out to see if they could break through. She's been there a while even, if she went to the trouble of the illusion."
"I could tell." the red-head's gaze grows distance, "I could almost hear through… hear the other side..."
"Is that why-" Jethro starts awkwardly, "If I can manipulate energy, being this - Quartz coat thing-"
"Quetzalcoatl. But mostly just a coatl. Quetzalcoatl was the god, and then he sort of had descendants that had some of his powers and…"
"Yeah, yeah, that... If that was a supernatural hotspot them it was basically a big energy pool. It explains why last time I was out of it for a month, and even then I think I needed a kick-start."
"I slept with you." Lexi bursts out.
"You what!" Nate almost shrieks and despite being used to Lydia's banshee shriek, people cover their ears.
"Not like that," Lex blushes, "I curled up next to him and then woke up really tired. What if he siphoned off my energy..." She stops, startled, "Oh my god," she turns to Jethro, "You're an energy stealing incubus!"
"He's a snake," Allison spins the laptop around from where she has sneaked off the table. Her bow sits beside her and people turn to where she stands by the window, laptop glow lighting up her face. Stiles recognises the archaic Latin bestiary, but there are giant comment boxes on it with an English translation that Lydia had been working on. "He's a Mesoamerican Aztec snake. Although obvious unless he wants to 'shed his skin' or whatever, he's going to remain in human form. And unless he can manipulate the weather, he mostly just controls energy. Aura. Manipulates and reads it."
"I don't look like that!" Jethro shifts out of the way with a squeak. Lexi falls over slightly as he stands, slipping around the sofa to go and peer at the picture.
Sam shrugs, "We've met another guy like you once. So we kind of knew what you were once we saw."
"Didn't you parents tell you?" Dean asks.
"Adopted." Jethro shrugs, unbothered as he leans over the laptop. Allison leaves him to head back towards the rest of the group.
"So what if this illness, this personality thing, what if it's not from the Nemeton. What if it's from the hell mouth?" she offers.
"The Nemeton's dead, you said?" Dean asks.
Stiles nods, "It was," he says, pointing to a picture of the giant trunk. It still sends shivers down his spine, "It was cut down. We did a sacrifice back to it to try and bring it back to power, making it a beacon again."
"But it's still not doing its job," Sam says, "If this is a giant tree of protection, then it's not protecting anymore. And if it's not protecting then hell can seep through. Now the demons just wants to find that crack and break it and- wait-" he turns back to Stiles with a frown, "You died?" he emphasises, "How?"
"We slept in an ice cold water bath for hours." Stiles says, and for once he's serious. "It slowed down our heart beats, put us in a trance-like state and we sort of died and ended up in this white room Purgatory-"
Dean snorts his brother glares at him. Stiles wonders what that is about but continues talking.
"It was linked to the Nemeton and we each had visions of it. Deaton says we opened a door in our minds, but we're not quite sure what that means. I actually have this theory that when he was younger Deaton was cursed by an evil witch to never be able to say something. Either that or he's actually a sphinx." He doubted both theories, but out of the many he has considered those are the most likely
"I always thought he was in the mafia," Scott shrugs. "But every time I bring it up he distracted me.
Stiles looks at him as if he is crazy.
Scott shrugs, "I've gotten three raises by now." He says. Stiles whistles appreciately.
"Nice."
"Back to the point here, it's the Nemeton that's affecting everyone, but it's not affecting you guys because you're either supernatural or supernaturally changed." Sam summarises. "Or death. Death might work."
"So who here has died?" Nate mockingly jokes.
It's almost expected that Stiles, Allison and Scott raise their hand. But the hunters is a surprise. They sigh about it, exchanging a glance and raising their hands. They act as if it is something they do every other week.
Then again, Stiles considers, looking at the scars on their arms which make them look as if they've been crucified, they might well do.
Jethro too raises one hand, "Heart stopped for ten minutes," he shouldn't sound so proud of it, but Lexi hits him before Nate is able to. "I uh… back when I was in a coma. Low on energy and by the time Nate and Lexi got me to the hospital well…" he ducks his head, sad suddenly.
Scott is glaring at the hunters with open confusion, "How the hell did you die?" he asks, accusingly.
"Which time?" Dean sighs.
Nate splutters, "What do you mean which time? How many times have you died?"
Dean opens his mouth to reply and then stops. He then starts counting on his fingers. Sam too considers this, "Does near death count?" he asks, "Or travelling to other realms willingly?"
His brother is mouthing numbers and counting on his fingers before triumphantly announcing, "One hundred and ten."
Sam sighs and rolls his eyes. "I don't know," he says, when the pack turn their expectant gazes to him, "About… six...eight?" he shrugs.
"We're regular Dante's," Dean shrugs.
Stiles stares at him as if Dean has just revealed he's a billionaire. "Say that again," the teenager announced, because what Dean had just said rings a bell. He's read so much recently on all sorts of supernatural myths and theories that it shouldn't take long before he can pick out the right one.
"What? That I've died on hundred and ten times?" Dean curls his lip, "Kid, I'm not proud of that. Especially since one hundred of those deaths were because there was a guy obsessed with my brother and I…"
"No," Stiles shakes his head, pinpointing what had caught his attention. "That thing you said about Dante. That was the dude who travelled to the three realms right?"
The hunters frown, not sure what he's getting at. Surprisingly from the pack it is Nate who gets it first, gasping as it hits her, "The punishments," she whispers, and Stiles grins at her.
"I knew I liked you," he nods in her direction, then turns back to the gang, "Anybody read Dante?" There are blank faces, "Wait… nobody has read Dante?"
"Who… who is Dante?"
"Inferno," Sam breaths suddenly, and almost as if the brothers are telepathic the hotter one (Stiles did not just think that) frowns.
"Wait… the seven circle punishments? Which is scarily accurate by the way..." Dean trails off as Sam lurches towards his bag but Stiles is already pulling out a laptop.
"It's the epic poem," Nate explains, "Written by this guy who supposedly travels down through Hell, then up through Purgatory and up to Heaven. In Hell and Purgatory people are punished in different ways, depending on their sins. The lustful burn in the fires of passion and the prideful are forced to carry rocks equal to the weight of their pride…" she stops because she can see that the others understand it now, that something has just clicked.
"We already knew people died due to their flaws," Allison says, "But to have some of the deaths be so iconic to the sins?"
"It's linked to the demons." Sam interrupts, "According to Cas, each one represents a sin. I think you're onto something."
"If we know what demon is which sin, we can link each death to each demon."
"And then work out which ones have risen!"
"Stiles, you're fantastic."
Stiles grins wildly, "I know." he sounds proud. "I'm amazing. Don't all thank me at once."