Aftermath
It was sufficient to say that Derek was freaking out. Stiles had not only been ripped open by Scott, he'd only just managed to catch her before she fell on the ground, the gaping wound in her chest that was impossible to see under the torn shirt was gushing blood like a broken dam. Derek looked around him almost begging Scott to take notice of what he'd done and fall to his knees keening like the wayward pup that he was. But the rogue beta had already turned away with Allison safely tucked under his arm as they walked away. Jackson was leaning heavily against Lydia probably in too much shock to really notice anything other than the fact he was alive, the redhead was frozen in a twisted mix of shock, guilt and worry. His own beta was cowering in hesitation being Peter who stood tall and firm in the sea of discord that was raging around them, Derek met his uncle's cold blue gaze pleadingly but it was clear that even he had no idea what to do in that moment but he still steeled his spine and took a step forward, scooping Stiles into his arms and with the alpha's help piled her into Derek's car.
"There... there's got to be something we can do..." Isaac stammered hesitantly; his bright blue eyes wide as he trotted behind the other two wolves. "A spell or something, right?"
"Yes, there is something we can do." Peter uttered drily. "It's called getting her to the hospital. Where she can be treated by a doctor."
"But what would we say when they ask what happened?" Isaac continued, wringing his hands nervously. "That we found her like that, that she was attacked by a mountain lion?"
"We aren't doing anything." Derek cut in moving around to the driver side of his Camaro; expression like stone. "You and Peter are going to make sure those two have a believable cover story for when Jackson turns back up in the hospital and then you are going back to the hideout."
Peter opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut awkwardly when his nephew snarled viciously with a glare. Now was not the time to point out that the substation was not the best place to be at this point in time considering Derek was concerning himself with his newly chosen mate, whom was hurt.
"You better drive quickly." Was all he decided to say instead, Derek slid into his car huffing an almost painful sigh of relief when Stiles showed signs of being semi-conscious. He took off like a bat out of hell towards Beacon Hills memorial, anxiety gnawing at him like a feral dog, Peter's words from the school spinning around in his mind like a top, mate.
A mate was a highly desired thought among werewolves, and although pretty common decades ago it, statistically it was only around four of ten wolves actually accepted having a mate and were accepted in return. Derek repressed a shiver as he recalled some of the stories his mom told him and his sisters about what would happen if a wolf was rejected by their mate or vice versa – they would lose their minds in grief and despair before turning feral – as a kid it terrified him, but as he got older, he realised that his mom just wasn't the one for romantic or whimsical notions and strived to squash the ideas out of her kids as well. Derek pushed the thoughts of his mother forcefully from his mind as he screeched to a halt in front of the main entrance doors of the hospitals ER, he flew from the car and carried Stiles into the brightly lit, white washed reception not giving a second glance to the patients waiting to be seen.
"I need some help here." He shouted just loud enough to attract the attention of the curly, dark-haired nurse that had been making rounds, the woman's eyes widened fearfully as she turned to tell Derek he'd need to wait a few minutes. To say she was rendered practically speechless at the sight of a pale, bruised and bleeding Stiles would be putting it mildly.
Melissa jumped into action calling to other nurses and attendee's that were in her general vicinity as she moved to roll a gurney over, ordering in a soft voice. "Put her down and tell me what happened."
"She was attacked..." Derek mumbled, watching transcendently as nurses surrounded the gurney each doing something different, flashing lights in Stiles' eyes, cutting away the remaining pieces of her torn shirt and pressing large pads of gauze on the still weeping wound. "That's all I know, is she going to be, okay?"
Melissa hesitated in handing out orders, slowly turning to face Derek her lips pressed together firmly as she assessed his every move. She was well aware that she knew very little about the ins and outs of Scott's knew lifestyle and the disappearing act of Jackson Whittemore's supposedly dead body had the hospital administrators in a tizzy about pending lawsuits but she was pretty damn certain that whatever has happened to her figurative daughter was closely tied with it and Derek know more than he was letting on. She let it go for the time being as the on-call doctor showed up to demand Stiles be taken in for an emergency operation that she was going to have to assist on.
"Derek, I need you to look at me, we're going to do everything we can to make sure she pulls through okay?" Melissa gently placed a soothing hand on the despondent alpha's arm, sighing internally when he didn't pull away. "But I need you to stay here for now, someone's already called the sheriff to let him know where she is. He's going to want some answers."
Derek nodded solemnly, his eyes not meeting the nurse, instead watching with intensity as his Stiles, his Spark was wheeled out of his line of vision and he could no longer watch over her.
Melissa helped prep Stiles for the surgery with quick, deft movements. Cutting away the soiled clothing to reveal the slashes over her chest that showed no signs of slowing without stitches and angry, red welts that were blistering and sore, swollen skin that was a deep bluish, purple and minor cuts and scratches that littered her arms and torso. Melissa and Stiles' attending doctor had to take a moment to force back the bile in their throats before shaking it off and focusing on the task.
It took two and a half hours to cut away the already dying tissue and repair the broken collar bone before each cut was meticulously sewn together with steady fingers. Thirty-two stitches in each slash that would no fade or shrink over time, the cuts and welts were disinfected and treated before nurses dressed Stiles in a standard white hospital gown and the ventilator was removed – replaced with an oxygen mask to aid in her breathing despite being able to breath on her own – Melissa was dismissed to attend her other nightly duties. She wasn't sure who was going to tell the sheriff about Stiles' attack but whether it was the doctor or the nurses, she was glad she'd be close by, at the reception desk, to be able to step in a defuse the situation quickly. He wasn't going to take it well, especially when he was told that no one knew how or what happened to his only child.
Stiles didn't regain full consciousness until three days later her head was fuzzy and there was a dull aching in her chest that itched irritably. Stiles moved one arm to scorch the unattainable itch. Her arm was heavy, the dissociated feeling disconcerting, but she brushed it off with a low moan as her fingers brushed thick bandages instead of skin. She forced her eyes to open, wincing at the assault of mid-day sunlight filtering through the open blinds, at first, she wasn't sure where she was or what had happened before the memories rushed back all at once.
The Argent's basement.
Erica and Boyd.
Allison's assault.
Her dad letting her go. Erica and Boyd... did they get back to the substation?
She remembered the warehouse and Jackson becoming a werewolf. Derek and Peter, she remembered her anger when Scott and Allison linked hands.
She remembered with stunning clarity how Scott's claws felt as they ripped through skin, muscle and fat. How they sharply and cleanly cut through her collar bone. She recalled the power she felt broiling beneath her skin before his attack and her train of thought before she passed out. Stiles felt her eyes prick with tears that she stubbornly blinked away as she forced herself into a sitting position, there were sticky things attached to her chest that tugged when she moved and an IV drip in her hand that pulled painfully when she moved to pull the sticky things off. She grumbled tiredly, flopping back onto the hard pillow beneath her head, dark whiskey brown eyes flittering over the room broadly. Her gaze narrowed when she saw the shadow looming in the far corner, Isaac stepped out looking both determined and sheepish.
"Sorry," he said in a hushed whisper, baby blues nervously taking in her bruised form. Stiles looked so small lying in the hospital bed, the bleached white sheets making her frail and sickly looking. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." Stiles tried to say but her voice was nothing more than a dry, hoarse sigh. "'though the whole watch dog in the corner thing is a little unnerving. What are you doing here anyway?"
"The pack's been taking shifts the last couple of days when your dads not here." Isaac explained, carefully sitting next to her leg. "Just to make sure no one gets any ideas about trying to hurt you or something."
Stiles blinked, the betas words not making much sense but understanding them nonetheless. "Okay, how about you tell me what's been going on?"
Isaac brightened slightly and told her everything she'd missed out on the last few days, which was surprisingly a lot. Scott and Allison officially broke up the day after the big event, the Argent's then went off to France for the summer and Jackson was preparing to head to London at the insistence of his adoptive father. Scott's been acting a little twitchy but otherwise seems to be going back to his normal self (Stiles snorted at the thought), Lydia has been spending every second she could with Jackson before he leaves and Boyd and Erica went missing.
"We tracked their sent to the middle of the preserve but it's like they just vanished off the face of the earth. We can't find them anywhere."
"Crap." Stiles cursed, she was effectively useless in helping until the doctor and her dad cleared her, "I promise Isaac as soon as I'm able, we're going to find them, okay? And they are going to be fine."
Isaac nodded solemnly but the little spark in his eye said that he believed her and trusted her. Isaac brushed a stray lock of hair from his alpha's mates face with a rueful smile. "I know we will, I trust you."
Stiles fell asleep sometime later and woke up to her dad and doctor taking while Melissa stood at her bedside checking her vitals. The woman gave Stiles a weak smile when she noticed she was awake and scribbled a few things down on a clipboard.
Upon noticing she was awake the doctor ushered Melissa out and left her to the unbridled mercy of the sheriff, which was frankly the last thing she really wanted to do. Noah stalked over to the bed deceptively calm as he toyed with the thin tube that carried the pain medication through the IV drip and into her bloodstream, she was in for some serious reckoning.
"So, you feeling up to telling me what happened after the game?" Her dad asked mindlessly twisting the tube between idle fingers.
"Would it matter if I said no?" She countered, her blank expression morphing into a playful grin when he looked at her. "Come on, pops. Look on the bright side, at least I'm not in the morgue."
That did it for the sheriff, his fingers twitched around the tube, pinching it so that the flow of medication would stop. It didn't take long for Stiles to feel the effects as her entire body lit up in pain causing her to groan pitifully.
"Really?" Her dad demanded, "You're lying beaten half to death in a hospital bed and you're making jokes!"
"Oh, come on daddy. Humour's subjective, sorry you lost your dry sense of humour along with your hairline."
"I'm going to give you one chance, Stiles to tell me what happened."
Stiles pursed her lips, displeased and in pain, her brows pinched together as she tried to think of a plausible lie that would be just on the right side of believable.
"I don't know exactly. When the field lights went out someone grabbed me and I woke up... in the preserve. It was dark so I didn't see anything."
"You didn't see who grabbed you or attacked you?"
"No, nothing."
The sheriff nodded slowly, seemingly believing her, "What about the other thing? The gashes, you know how that happened?"
"A coyote." Stiles blurted after a second and a half of hesitation, Noah's brow quirked slightly but he didn't question it as he pressed the back of his hand against Stiles' forehead and released the tube.
"Okay, kid. We'll look into but you rest just now, doc says you'll be here for a week at least."
"You know I love our father/daughter talks. They're always so extreme and enlightening." Stiles hummed in acknowledgement but the rest of his words fell on deaf ears as she once more fell into the black abyss of sleep.
The week of hospitalisation passed at an agonisingly slow pace for Stiles who was used to her world going at least 45mph. But she was eventually allowed back home with a regimen of exercises she was supposed to do so that she wouldn't pull her stitches or damage her collarbone further. Stiles was thankful it was the start of summer and she wasn't subjected to further torment of going to school like Scott – which meant Stiles was able to fill her abundance of free time learning and honing her craft, she couldn't much else but Derek would come visit after his daily search for his missing betas.
As July turned to August, Stiles came across a ritual in the book of shadows about searching the netherworld. The netherworld was the soul realm that supernatural souls went after they died, from what she could tell it was like an eternal limbo and given the right ritual would allow oneself to project and travel the realm without actually passing on. Since the attack, Stiles had only heard from Laura and she was admittedly uneasy about it what the she wolf had to tell her. Laura had come across one of Derek's betas in the netherworld, so as soon as she had the stitches removed Stiles started to prepare for the ritual she'd found, all she really need was someone to pull her back if she delved too far – an anchor. Naturally, she called Lydia on the pretence of having a fun girly day before having a sleep over at hers. The genius redhead was not amused in the slightest when Stiles pulled out her witchcraft materials, lighting tall candles with a snap of her fingers and setting up the Ouija board.
"You do realise this is insane, right?" The redhead stated, her light pink lips pursed and arms folded. Stiles barely glanced up as she moved to draw a pentagram in chalk. "Your dad will kill you for that."
"Relax, I'll clean it before he's home long enough to notice." Stiles waved off, finally straightening and meeting Lydia's worried gaze. "And yes, I know it's nuts but it's the only way."
Stiles had called Braeden for help when it became pretty clear that the pack was going around in circles unable to find the betas. The mercenary had gladly looked into it but made Stiles promise not to call her every other day for updates, so really Stiles was just trying to help without getting in the way. The two girls glared at each other for a solid two minutes before Lydia glanced down at the pinkish scars that glistened in the candle light and she clenched her jaw, remember how those scars came to be and how the one who caused them hadn't even been mildly courteous to even talk to Stiles.
"Fine! But if we end up unleashing some evil ghost that wants to kill us just know I will sacrifice you to save my own skin."
"Fair enough." Stiles shrugged, sitting down in the middle of the pentagram after spreading a circle of mistletoe and mountain ash around the outer circle and folding her legs beneath her. She wasn't sure, exactly what she was supposed to be doing only that she needed Lydia's help in maintaining the connection to the netherworld while she searched the realm for the spirits she was looking for and guided said soul back to their body.
Stiles fully aware and prepared for the ramifications her magic would cause, the natural balance would be tipped and she would need to find a way to safely maintain it while also not screwing up the supernatural world further. As Stiles inhaled a deep breath to centre herself and closed her eyes to call on her magic, Lydia placed her delicate hands on the planchette with a loud, exaggerated huff – she was still pretty unhappy with the idea and how Stiles mislead her in the beginning. Lydia didn't really know Erica or Boyd and as much as she wanted to help them, she remained resilient in the fact that communicating with the dead was a stupid idea.
"How exactly do you plan on tying the soul of whatever beta we find back to their body without them dying a second time?" Lydia asked watching from the corner of her eye as Stiles shifted uncomfortably. The redhead nearly whined in frustration, whatever crazy, hair-brained idea Stiles had she wasn't going to like it.
"Don't worry about that." Was all Stiles replied, her plan was in fact stupid and no one in their right mind would let her go through with it. Just communicating with dead and walking through the netherworld was a bad idea, but removing a piece of a living soul to solidify the continued existence of someone who had already passed was, to be blunt, psychotic.
Stiles, of course, already knew this and had prepared a contingency plan for afterwards that Laura had helped her with. She just had to visit the magic tree somewhere in the woods to complete her plan and everyone can go on living semi-normal lives. Stiles ignored the glare from Lydia and the wary apprehension from the deceased ex-alpha as her magic bubbled beneath the surface of her skin and burning her eyes a vivacious violet. Lydia clicked her tongue but started moving the planchette regardless, requesting the door be opened now that everything else was in place.
"I cannot believe you talked me into this, black magic and rituals." She muttered, but Stiles could only faintly here her as she pushed her soul from her body in an astral projection. Lydia fell into a trance like state, her eyes vacant but focus and lips moving soundlessly as she did something.
Stiles looked around her, everything was washed in a fuzzy grey and there was a strange thrumming energy. A bright red door appeared before her with a light shining from beneath it, Stiles nervously shook out her hands before steeling her spine and taking step through the doorway.
The netherworld was dull, similar to the real world only everything seemed to muted and slower, Stiles had the feeling of trekking through molasses or treacle. Laura stepped up beside her completely still and rigid, her face pulled into a tense frown, she hadn't needed to say anything for Stiles to know that the she wolf hated this place, it was too familiar, felt too right. As they walked through the realm of the dead, Laura taking the lead as she knew who they were looking for, they said nothing Stiles ignoring the growing uneasiness in her gut as the walked an all too familiar path to the Hale house.
The mansion stood tall and beautiful in the mid-afternoon sun with the Hale's outside laughing, running around and seeming so, so alive that it momentarily stunned Stiles, knocking the breath from her lungs as she watched. A sad, wishful smile graced Laura's lips as she looked over her family.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" She said, her voice sounded like it was coming through a broken speaker grill. "To see how the dead cope with it, how they can make everything seem like it's ten times better than what it is."
Laura didn't like being dead, that much Stiles knew, she regretted a lot that she wasn't able to make up for. Stiles scanned the family of dark brunette's and honey blondes, mentally counting them, her brow wrinkling as she came up with the number twelve.
"There's twelve people here, reports only said that there were eleven in the house."
"Paige spends a lot of time at the mansion, she's got no one else here but us." Laura explained as she rolled her shoulders and walked on, dreading her next words. "And there were only ten in the house, someone else got out that night."
Stiles stumbled, tripping over her feet as she scurried to catch up with the leggy wolf, spluttering incoherently. Thought's spiralling and swirling through her mind, who else could've gotten out? Where were they? Did Derek know, did Peter? Her mind skidded to a sudden halt when she spotted a very familiar face and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Erica looked happy but so sad at the same time, it was a look Stiles didn't want on her Catwoman's face and she was going to fix no matter who got in her way.
"Erica!" Stiles called, throwing caution into the wind and taking long strides over to the gathered wolves and humans. Apparently if you were human in a werewolf pack you joined them in the Netherworld, Stiles filed the information away for later.
The look on Erica's was both amusing and heartbreaking as her dark eyes landed on Stiles, filling with tears, "No, no. Please... this isn't real, it can't be..."
"Erica, what's wrong?" Stiles asked finally reaching the blonde and placing her hands on her shoulders as Erica begged, shaking her head.
"You can't be dead, it's not fair. You can't be."
"Hey, Catwoman, I'm here to save you." Stiles assured her, Erica snapped out of her emotional turmoil to glare.
"How? I'm dead."
"I can fix that!" Stiles said brightly with a quirky half grin. "If you let me, and trust me."
Erica hesitated for a second taking in the Hale pack that where converging around Laura, ready to pounce on her for bringing the living to their realm. It wasn't supposed to be done, there was a reason for the myths of glorious hero's trying and failing to bring their loved ones – if you were dead you were supposed to stay dead, but this was Stiles. Stiles never liked the rules, rarely ever listened to the ones her dad lay down and really, she had the power to bring back the dead and no one to stop her. Erica swallowed thickly but reached out to take Stiles' hand, she wanted to live and the only reason she dared go up against the female alpha was to protect her pack mates.
"Great, let's go." Stiles risked a glance at the Hale's, Talia was disappointed to say the least as she and Laura face one an other, alpha against alpha. "We just need to get back to the door, and it'll take us back to your body."
They took off at a run, Stiles dragging Erica behind her ever so slightly as they made their way through the town and back to the Stilinski house that Stiles and Laura had left through. Stiles was fully expecting to just dive through the red door and be done with it but of course, nothing was ever so easy when dealing with the supernatural, so she was only half surprised to be met with a dark purple door, decorated with intertwining black vines. Roots Stiles realised after a moment of staring at the door, it was decorated with a tree, the roots at the top of the door and curling every which way, the door creaked open a black, shadowy arm reached out invitingly, waiting for Stiles to take it. The spark reached out with her free hand and allowed her fingers to link with the shadow's, a vague memory of a dream she had lurking around the edges of her mind, she took even steps towards the door with Erica in tow as the door swung open to reveal a seven foot tall form of a humanoid fox like creature with a mischievous grin and burning kaleidoscope eyes.
The fox led them through the door, which led to a old abandoned building and straight to a supply closet where a more solid form of her Erica lay in a crumpled heap. The fox brushed it's arm against Stiles' like a gigantic cat looking for affection, Stiles absently stroked the shadow's forearm, not even registering that she was touching fur as she removed a ceremonial blade from where she'd hidden it in her boot and sliced her palm. Thin wisps of bright, honey gold seeped from the wound and dripped onto the blade, braiding itself together forming a triquerta knot – a Celtic symbol for death, life and rebirth – before it became solid enough for Stiles to hold, she pressed the symbol to her lips, eyes burning a bright pink that almost look red, she mumbled something Irish under her breath before she blew on the symbol and pushed her magic and soul into the knot. With a smile she handed it to spirit Erica, pressing it into her hand knowing it'll work.
"When you wake up, lay low for as long as you can before getting out. Don't try and get to Boyd, you'll be too weak to fight anyone, when it's safe I want you to go home." Stiles instructed with a stern, no nonsense tone that Erica couldn't refuse – even if she wanted to. "I don't know how long it'll take but just know you might be a little disoriented."
Erica nodded gratefully, the hand holding the cooling Celtic knot curled into a tight fist as she whispered a quiet, thank you.
In the real world, Lydia had snapped out of her trance and immediately started to worry when she noticed that the candles where nearly burned down to nothing and Stiles still hadn't returned to her body. She took several deep, calming breaths before turning to the Ouija board, preparing to call Stiles back herself when the girl in question gasped painfully, her head snapping to the side grotesquely and her spark eyes wide in fear. Lydia squeaked only slightly, having been prepared for a worse sight, Stiles had explained that when the spell was complete her physical form may take on the physical injury for a few minutes until she return to it, and frankly Lydia was expecting a lot more Texas chainsaw massacre rather than the Exorcist. The spark blinked, rolling her neck and meeting Lydia's gaze.
"Did you close the door? Don't want any demon's coming through and trying to kill us in our sleep."
Lydia felt her lips twitch but forced them into a disgruntled frown as she made quick work of thanking the netherworld and it's occupants for their help and sealing the doorway.
"Okay, now that the standard, talking to the dead part of the sleepover is over." Lydia said in a very chipper tone, "We are watching the Notebook whether you like it or not."
Stiles laughed tiredly but nodded regardless, watching some sappy romance movie would be better than her plan to go to the other side of Beacon Hill's with Scott tomorrow.
So, a quick filler chapter to let you know what's about to come. Erica's alive, am I the only one who was really sad about the whole season 3A arch with the alpha pack killing Derek's pack, trying to pressure him into joining them and pushing Scott into becoming a 'true alpha'?