Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blues Clues
The trip back to the Boarding House was a blur for Alex. She had been on some intense missions before, but nothing had come close to what she'd experienced over the last few hours. The stress her body had gone through, the rollercoaster of emotions; thinking she was going to die or thinking Stiles was already dead, and the information Meredith had given them in the coven's archive - the days events stretched around her, enveloping her in a tight blanket of anxiety.
Meredith had long since retired to her bedroom in the opposite wing of the house with a parting promise to answer any other other questions they might have in the morning.
Stiles and Alex sat in the warm kitchen staring bleakly into their mugs still steaming with untouched chamomile.
"When do you think she knew who we were?" Stiles questioned, "I know Deaton suggested we stay here because of her, but he told us that we should be subtle."
"She probably figured something was up when we asked to use the library." Alex responded, "Definitely not subtle."
"I think she's a witch." Stiles continued his barrage of assumptions, something he'd been doing since they'd been left to talk alone. "Why else would she be teaching at a school for supernaturals?"
"I just don't understand why she made us walk through hell and back to get that information, when she had it all along and knew who we were." Alex muttered. "Why is nothing ever easy? Giant man-sized lizards and death caves. There was a moment, when you were under the water and I didn't think I was going to find you - I just, wanted to give up. Stop swimming and sleep - finally sleep."
Stiles let the dark connotations of her words wash over him like a bucket of cold water shaking him from his rapid fire line of questions and problem solving. His tense shoulders relaxed and he sank further into his chair.
"If I never see a large body of water ever again, it'll be too soon." Attempting to lighten the mood, he then said, "I'll have to ask my dad if he saved my Blues Clues nightlight."
Alex appreciated the attempt, but there was a dark cloud hanging over their victory today.
Though Peter was no longer a problem - Derek having taken care of that, there were more Alpha's out there. Hungry for power and willing to do anything to get it. Alex had grown up reading the Bestiary from cover to cover and never had anything come up in her reading about a True Alpha. If Meredith was correct, it seemed to be the universes way of saying 'fuck you' to the werewolves who took lives with pleasure and became Alpha's by completely destroying the part of themselves that was human.
An ultimate power they would never be able to have simply because of who they were.
The Buchanan sisters had turned her into a cosmic joke.
"Are you okay?" Stiles asked after a long silence. "You know we're going to figure this out, right?"
"I'm not sure we can find a way out of this one, Stilinski."
"We'll talk more to Meredith in the morning, and Deaton. They seem much closer than he let on, there's got to be more to the story. We can talk to Derek and Scott, even your parents if we have to." He was grasping at straws and even though Alex appreciated his steadfast belief in their abilities, there was a part of Alex that understood the only way to prevent someone like Peter Hale becoming an all powerful True Alpha was to take herself out of the equation. If they couldn't lift the curse, there were certainly other ways of doing so.
Sometime later, their bodies tight with exhaustion they found themselves standing face to face in the hallway outside their opposing rooms.
Alex felt conflicted. They'd kissed passionately after he'd saved her on the bridge and she remembered a flood of emotions over taking her before she'd fallen. She'd been desperate to get to him, he made her feel safe and cared for. When she thought about it, he'd been doing it since the day they'd met. Now, in the safety of the fire lit hallway her emotions weren't as steady or as urgent as they had been. She felt awkward and unsure of herself as he gazed down at her with his glimmering whiskey brown eyes that would always mesmerize her, despite how terribly tired he looked.
Whether he sensed her conflicting emotions or not, he reached a hand up slowly to gently cup her cheek.
"I'm going to figure this out for you, Alex Argent." He whispered as her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed herself into his hand. It was warm and sure, and after the hardships of their day she allowed herself a contented sigh, grateful for the touch. A reminder that he was real and still here.
"I don't know what I would do without you." She whispered back, genuine and honest. He was the constant in her life, and because she was a girl who'd never had one, she'd decided somewhere along the line to hold on to it for dear life.
"Well," Stiles smiled warmly at her, "I know I'd be dead without you."
The sentiment rang true for both of them but Alex couldn't find the strength to do anything other than sag uselessly into his arms and allow him to hold her upright and tight to the hard planes of his chest.
They stood embracing in the hallway for some time, soaking each other in before she mumbled something unintelligible about showering and sleeping. Stiles allowed her to untangle herself from the cage his arms had formed around her and she found herself missing his warmth before he'd even let go.
He didn't let her get far before cupping his hands around her face and arching down to stare deeply into her eyes. She itched to turn away, to break the spell she found herself in constantly these days, but his firm hold kept her in place.
"I'm going to figure this out."
She believed him.
.
Gairloch was in a constant state of being damp. It permeated her bones and made her toes curl in her thermal socks. It didn't help matters much that earlier that day she'd spent most of her free time swirling around in a huge pit of water, or dangling off of cliffs suspended above even more cold water.
Her shower felt heavenly.
She stayed in it until she'd washed her body four times and the water began to run cold. She towelled herself off and slipped into the oversized t-shirt she'd stolen from Stiles their first night in Scotland. It hit her mid thigh, but it wasn't like she needed to be modest in her own room.
She quickly ran a brush through her damp blonde tresses and eventually she slipped easily beneath the heavy plaid comforter, closing her eyes knowing that sleep would come quickly. But she found that time dragged on and the harder she tried, the more sleep evaded her. Her foot began to bounce with irritation and finally her eyes snapped open and she glared at the fabric of the canopy.
Stiles.
Goofy, over dramatic, high energy Stiles.
That's what was keeping her on edge. His brown eyes, large hands, kind smile. The way his mouth had enveloped hers so perfectly, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue against the seam of her lips. Alex was a far cry from inexperienced, but she felt totally out of her league when it came to Stiles. He was so open about his feelings for her - he had never kept them hidden, but she couldn't help but think that if it was just sex he was after then maybe this whole thing would've been easier.
But sex had never set her nerves on fire like this.
This was something else.
Her leg bounced on the mattress, her fingers thrumming on her stomach where she'd placed her hands because she didn't know what else to do with them. A twinge behind her naval made her squeeze her eyes shut and her fingernails dig into the soft flesh of her stomach, trying to anchor herself to this room.
Before she knew what was happening she had tossed the covers off of her with an aggravation that sent them drifting across the bedroom floor. Her sure footsteps led her to the door, swinging it open with a fervour only to realize that Stiles had done the exact same thing and was staring at her with an open mouth not four feet away from her at his own door.
Both of their chests were heaving, sleep long forgotten as they regarded each other carefully. His lips were parted in a frozen sigh and his eyes were molten as they carefully traced her exposed legs.
She abandoned all pretence when she launched herself into his arms and fastened her mouth to his. It was the kind of kiss that was more of a fight - clashing teeth and bruising force. It wasn't sweet or full of promise like she might have expected from Stiles. It was a fight, it was everything they had been through together, his feelings; for her and the ones that she'd hurt. It was a small victory in the war they'd began fighting without consent.
His mouth fastened against her throat and she let out a primal sound that she would have been embarrassed about if it were with anyone other than him. Her head lolled to the side and he growled lightly, sending a shiver down her spine that sent her hips jerking forward. His abs tightened beneath her centre and his mouth left her neck to mutter into her skin.
"I love you."
She knew that.
She wanted to say it back, because what had become so transparent over the course of this trip and the weeks leading up to it, is that she did. She did love him. Where it had come from, she had no idea. Maybe it was destined, the two of them meeting - him busting into her life and destroying every defence she'd ever built. She desperately wanted to tell him that the only thing that had made her feel whole since she'd moved here and lost her family, was him.
But all that came out of her mouth was, "Prove it."
With shaking hands he fixed her with a loaded look and walked them into his room, shutting the door behind them.
.
Stiles opened his eyes and there was a smile already firmly in place. He stretched his legs and arms, stilling when he felt the cold space next to him that he distinctly remembered Alex occupying. He frowned when he found his room completely empty, the only reminder of the night they'd shared together was the shirt she'd been wearing discarded in a careless heap on the floor.
His heart sank with the implication.
The night before he'd hesitated, situated over her perfect body, both of them trembling with the possibility of what was to come. She'd looked up at him, perfect and wanting - upon seeing the look on his face she'd smiled warmly at him and squeezed his fingers.
"What's going on up there?" She'd asked, breathless from the demanding way they'd been kissing. Stealing each others breath and then promptly taking it back.
"I don't want to wake up alone." He'd admitted, stuttering over his words. His hands shaking terribly as he continued to caress her skin - it didn't matter what she said, if this was the last time he could ever touch her like this he was going to savour every possible second that she allowed him. Touching her was like touching magic, fleeting and exhilarating.
He had known the second he met her that he would take whatever she would give him.
She pressed up, her body melding to his in the best way and pressed her lips to his. It was wet and dirty but sweet and warm, filled with promise and longing - but still in some way that was so inexplicably Alex Argent it had his head spinning. So different from the kisses they'd already had. She pulled away, dragging his bottom lip with her between her teeth.
He groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head with the feeling.
"I'm not going anywhere, Stiles Stilinski."
He shook his head to clear the memory which at this point, was only spurring his rapidly breaking heart. He sat there for a moment, sheets bunching at his hips while he tried to reconcile the emotions swirling around in his head.
Last night had been the pinnacle of his happiness.
He would have been completely content to live his life had Alex never come to his room, he'd been playing a losing game since he'd met her. Though the love he felt for her was at most times all consuming he was willing to wait until all of her childhood trauma had less of a hold on her and maybe she would come to understand what it was to feel something for someone else.
On the other hand, if she had never come around - having her in his life in any capacity was more than he could have hoped for a year ago.
Maybe last night had been a mistake? Maybe she regretted it and wanted to leave it in the past. Maybe she thought he had taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness and just that thought alone made his stomach jump unpleasantly into his throat.
The shirt laying haphazardly on the ground made him feel uneasy, Alex wasn't a prude in any sense, but he highly doubted she would go out into the hall naked. Even if it was only a few feet from her room. The situation didn't make sense, Stiles could tell when Alex was putting on an air and last night she had been open, honest and vulnerable - she hadn't been playing a game with him or simply fulfilling a need.
He knew her too well.
He knocked on her door timidly, only to find that it was ajar. He pushed it open and it squealed in opposition to him. Her room was empty, all of her things still where she'd left them. It smelled like her, he realized with a jolt. Like, heady cherry and vanilla. So uniquely Alex that it made him shutter as a visual of last night replied in his mind.
Alex. Everywhere.
Something was wrong. It was evident. His brain was telling him that something about this whole situation was off.
He ran as fast as his legs could carry him to anywhere in the Boarding House where he might find her, where she might have gone.
Library. Nothing.
Kitchen. Nothing.
Back Garden. Nothing.
"Ms. McKenna!" Stiles shouted, running aimlessly through the mansion. "MS. MCKENNA!"
"Mr. Stilinski - what on earth are you doing?" Meredith looked supremely pissed off at his antics, he wasn't being quiet or respectful of her space and she looked like she had still been asleep.
"Have you seen Alex?" He asked desperately, the words coming out as more of a jumble than anything else. "I can't find her anywhere!"
"Did she leave you a note? Or call you?" Meredith asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
Stiles stilled.
His phone!
He sprinted away like a man on fire and Meredith called frantically to him as he left her standing in the hallway.
He flung himself into his room, using the doorframe to propel himself forward. His hand grasped over the solid weight of his phone, only to go flying when his foot caught on Alex's discarded t-shirt. He hit the ground with a painful thud and inwardly cursed Alex Argent for her uncanny ability to have him tripping all over himself, whether she was present or not.
He rolled over onto his back with a groan a pang shooting through his leg, which had taken most of the impact when he had landed. His fingers went immediately to the phone in his hand and his breath caught when he saw he'd missed a ridiculous amount of phone calls, voicemails and texts last night.
Scott McCall: 14 missed calls
Derek Hale: 39 missed calls
Allison Argent: 19 missed calls
Lydia Martin: 1 missed call
Just as he was about to listen to the first voicemail, bypassing all of the 'call me now' text messages, a call from Derek Hale came in.
"HELLO?" Stiles yelled frantically.
"What the fuck, Stiles?!" Derek yelled, "Where the fuck have you been?"
"What's going on?"
"Where is Alex?" Derek asked, ignoring his question.
"I can't find her - she, she was here last night but I have no idea where she is."
"FUCKING FUCK!" Derek roared so loud Stiles had to move the phone away from his ear. "Peter's alive! He came for her."
The phone dropped out of Stiles' hand. It clattered to the floor, though Stiles barely heard it. The edges of his vision started to blur and his head felt like it was made of lead. His breaths started to come out quickly and shallow, his hand which seemed to moving of its own accord was grasping at his shirt, trying to move it to allow for more oxygen.
Peter Hale. Alex Argent. Peter Hale. Alex Argent. Peter Hale. Alex Argent.
His throat was contracting and constricting as his other hand blindly searched for his phone. Miraculously, somehow he managed to press it back to his ear.
" . . . Lydia drugged everyone . . . resurrected . . . he's in Scotland . . . STILES!"
.
Did she drink last night?
Or take some recreational drugs?
Is that why it felt like someone was sitting on her head.
Sex usually made her feel energized in the morning - if not a little sore, depending on the nature of the encounter.
Alex tried to swallow but her throat felt like it was on fire. Like she hadn't had water for days. Her eyes cracked open feeling like they'd been glued shut. She looked to her left, wondering if Stiles was awake yet.
Empty.
Since when did the Boarding House have such lavish rooms? Where did the plaid duvet covers go?
Her bed was huge, plush with white silk sheets and more pillows than any one person needed. The bed was in the middle of a large room with rich wood floors and intricate crown moulding. There was a massive vanity on the left hand side with more beauty products than she could count and on the other side was a beautiful desk, laden with fresh paper and interestingly enough an ink well with a feather pen next to it.
A plush chaise stood at the end of the bed with a beautiful dress laid out over it. Alex hesitantly pulled down the sheet and moved to her knees, crawling down the wide expanse of the bed to get a better look. It was a beautiful black material with a plunging neckline and was long enough to probably hit the ground and drag a little from behind.
Where the fuck was she?
A sliver of sunlight caught the side of her face and she turned to stare at the window where the sun was obviously shining through from beside the lavish headboard. She leaned over to pull back the blinds and stared open mouthed at the scene in front of her.
Nothing.
There was nothing besides green rolling hills so far out that it looked like the sea. The blades of grass moved in the breeze giving the illusion that it could be water, if you weren't paying attention as much as she was. No buildings, no streets, no cars. Only hills until it met the horizon.
Alex choked on a panicked gasp.
She tried to open the window, reaching for the latch. A spark of light, or electricity fried her fingertips before she'd even made contact with the latch and she pulled her hand back with a hiss, bring it to her lips to soothe the sting with her tongue.
"I must say," A chilling, familiar voice spoke from behind her. "You've looked better."
Her heart jumped at the intrusion and she froze, her back was turned to him and her gaze fixed, unseeing, out the third story window.
"Ah," He continued, "Rendered speechless, I see. I admit, I have that effect on the fairer sex."
Alex turned around, sitting back on the bed as she didn't trust her legs to carry her weight in the face of Peter Hale.
"Thought you were dead." She croaked, clearing her throat with a dry cough.
"Semantics." He chuckled, moving to sit at the foot of the bed with a cat like grace that was ironic considering he was a dog - in more ways than one. The bed dipped with his weight and she moved her feet, bending her knees and tucking them under her to get as far away from him as possible.
"So," She started, conversational and mocking. "Kidnapping? New hobby?"
"I assume because I found you in Scotland, you know exactly why I'm here and exactly why you're here." He sneered at her, irritated with her attitude. He reached a hand towards her and she rocketed out of the bed like a scared feral animal. Her feet hitting the hardwood with a smack while she reached for her dagger holster.
It was gone.
. . . and so were her fucking clothes?
She looked down and paled immediately. She'd been put into a ferociously inappropriate silk slip in a striking forest green. It left nothing to the imagination. She was on display for Peter, and judging by his expression at her discomfort, he was thoroughly enjoying it.
She resisted the urge to cover herself with her arms and kept them firmly at her side in an attempt to show no weakness.
"Do you like it?" He chuckled, darkly.
"You've got a thing for silk, obviously." She gestured to the bedspread and the awful scrap of fabric she was wearing. "Not really my thing. Why all the theatrics? You've got me, why not just kill me now and get it over with."
"I can't say I'm surprised that you don't have all the information." He sucked his teeth at her. "The only other person besides Stiles who could have helped you on this mission was Lydia, and she was otherwise occupied, obviously." He grinned, gesturing to himself much like she had only moments before.
She stared defiantly at him, jaw clenched in an effort to curb her anger. She had no weapons, no plan and no idea where she was. Peter stared expectantly, like he was waiting for her to contradict him and when she didn't he huffed in disappointment.
"The Hunter's Moon, duh?" He rolled his eyes. "That's when you will be sacrificed."
Alex paled for fifth time in as many minutes.
"That's not for six months." She argued, backing up and inwardly cringing when she hit the wall.
Weakness. She'd shown weakness.
He nodded with glee, like she was a new challenge or game for him to play.
She didn't trust herself to speak without her voice cracking on her own panic, but she did anyway, a useless threat. "My friends will come for me before then - you can't honestly believe -"
"You can't honestly believe you were the only one with a witch in your corner!" He snarled, coming forward to grasp her neck in his hand and pin her further against the wall with his body. His has caged her in and his canines had extended, drips of saliva catching them and shuttering with his angry breath.
Alex didn't have the opportunity to respond with him rushing her windpipe. She might have offered up that she had never had a witch her corner - only a trio of sisters who had put her in this position in the first place.
"Your stupid little nitwit friends couldn't find you if they were literally standing in this room!" He spat, his harsh breath creeping over her cheek. "I've spelled this place to the point of no return - Lord knows you won't."