Hello again. Thank you to everyone that followed, and favorited this story and me as an author! I cannot thank you all enough for your support. This chapter is a bit on the long side, but I hope you like it. We're almost to the end! Enjoy!
Chapter 8
Melissa McCall watched as the rescue group, led by her son, stepped through the portal and disappeared from sight. Nervously, the nurse rested her fingers against her lips, closed her eyes, and sent a silent plea to the universe that everyone would return safe and sound. Melissa jumped in surprise, inhaling a sharp breath as a gentle hand unexpectedly rested on her back. The worried mother turned to find her son's girlfriend, Malia, watching her with clear concern.
Melissa sighed deeply before speaking softly, her gaze lifted to the sky. "Ya know, every time this happens I feel like something is clawing into my chest trying to rip my heart out. All these years and it's never gotten any easier. I'm so sick of my kids being in danger." The worried mother's deep brown eyes filled with unshed tears.
Malia wracked her brain for something to say to comfort the distraught woman, but as an emotionally stunted person, came up with nothing. It wasn't like it was her fault that she wasn't good at dealing with emotions. She was trapped as a coyote for a large part of her adolescence, and because of that she was blunt and usually said the first thing that came to her mind. However, the werecoyote was trying to not do that as often anymore…usually with help from her pack.
An idea struck the young woman. "Come on. Let's check on Allison." Malia suggested and with the hand still resting on Melissa's back steered the distressed woman towards the house.
The two walked back into the Stilinski house, Malia locking the door immediately behind them. After the click of the lock latched into place the werecoyote's enhanced senses picked up on a small whimpering noise. Malia tilted her head to the side and listened. The werecoyote concentrated on the noise blocking out everything else around her. The young woman was vaguely aware of Melissa calling out to her, the nurse's voice just barely taking on a hint of panic, but the werecoyote ignored her. Malia picked up on the noise again and was slammed with the realization of what it was, sending a spike of fear through the short haired brunette.
Melissa was surprisingly patient waiting for the young werecoyote to answer her calls. Being the mom of a werewolf the nurse was familiar with the maneuver that Malia was caught up in. Scott would do the very same thing when he was concentrating on a noise in the distance, so she waited.
However, Melissa wasn't prepare for the fearful confusion that crossed Malia's face as she finally looked at her and said, "Something's wrong with Allison."
Not wasting even a second, the two women dashed up the stairs towards the door to Stiles' old bedroom. As soon as Melissa's foot left the last step a terrified scream ripped through the house, the sound causing Malia to push passed Melissa and crash through the door first. The nurse was a couples steps behind the werecoyote so when she entered Stiles' old bedroom Malia was already looking out the window for an enemy while little Allison screamed from the bed clutching the blanket around her.
"Allison, where are they?!" Malia asked firmly, her entire focused on protecting the little girl, as she continued her search for intruders.
Decades of being a mother gave Melissa enough practice to spot the aftermath of a nightmare when she saw one. And one look at Allison's trembling body and tear filled eyes shooting around the room told Melissa all she needed to know. The curly-haired woman crossed the distance between her and Allison and immediately pulled the sobbing five year old into her arms. Shhing her softly, Melissa brushed the little girl's strawberry-blonde hair out of her eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead soothingly.
"It's okay Malia; Ally just had a nightmare. Am I right, sweetheart?" Melissa asked in a motherly manner.
Allison nodded her head against Melissa's chest and wailed. "I want my daddy and mommy!"
Melissa McCall hugged her honorary granddaughter tighter. "I know, honey. Your daddy and mommy will be back very soon. Your grandpa and uncles Scott, Chris, and Derek went to get them."
The five year old sniffled as she began to settle down. Malia looked at Melissa holding Allison on the bed and shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Are you sure it was only a nightmare? Maybe I should do a quick perimeter check?"
The nurse smiled softly in understanding. She knew that Malia needed something to do and comforting a five year old just wasn't her strength. "Yeah. That sounds like a good idea, Malia."
Allison's stomach suddenly grumbled. Melissa and Malia shared a small smile before the werecoyote slipped silently from the room, leaving Scott's mom to tend to the five year old.
"Ally, are you hungry?" Melissa asked in an amused voice, chuckling softly.
Allison perked up at the mention of food and looked at Melissa with a spark in her brown eyes. The look so similar to Stiles that the nurse's breath hitched and heart ached. In that moment, Allison looked so much like her father that Melissa was struck with a memory of a time when Stiles' mother was in the hospital near the end of her life.
Melissa made her way down the sterile hospital hallway after speaking with John, trying her best to not think about the tormented look in her friend's pale blue eyes. As the nurse rounded the corner, just outside the employee break room, her steps faltered. Scott and Stiles were siting huddled together on the worn couch in the break room whispering in a rush and arms flailing around so animatedly that it was a wonder how either boy didn't hit the other. The curly-haired woman smirked to herself when the words 'partners in crime' popped into her head as she watched the two nine year old best friends.
Both boys' heads snapped up as Scott's mom opened the door. Melissa noticed the way that Stiles began to hunch in on himself with a look of disappointment crossing his expressive features. Having seen this reaction before the nurse knew it was because Stiles was preparing for Scott to leave now that her shift was over. The look only made Melissa feel better about her suggestion to John.
Scott's mom crossed the room and knelt in front of her son and his best friend. "Hey Stiles, your dad is going to stay with your mom for a bit longer."
The little boy nodded with downcast eyes, as he began to fidget in his seat and his long fingers fiddled with the hem of his Spider-Man t-shirt.
Gently Melissa placed a comforting hand over Stiles' knee. The action halted the young boy's fidgeting and brought their gazes to connect. The curly-haired woman continued with a kind voice. "But I was thinking since my shift is over how about you come home with me and Scott then you two can have a sleepover."
Two pairs of equally effective puppy dog eyes peered at her as Stiles asked in a hopeful voice. "Really?"
Melissa smiled widely and nodded her head. "Really. I'll even make my famous grilled peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. How does that sound?"
A smile stretched across the nine year old's face igniting a spark in his deep brown eye as he nodded enthusiastically.
Scott's whole body buzzed with excitement, as he loudly exclaimed, "Aw this is going to be so much fun! I can show you my new game, Stiles!"
Melissa chuckled, stood up, and held out her hands for her two boys to take. Because that's what they were, even though Stiles wasn't her son by birth he was by choice. A choice both her and Scott had made without even realizing it.
Melissa shook herself from the memory. "Come on. I'll make you one of your daddy and Uncle Scott's favorites."
Allison's peered at Melissa, head titled and brow scrunch in curiosity.
"Grilled peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich." Melissa elaborated in an exaggerated whisper as if sharing a valuable secret.
The little girl giggled and excited in joy, "Okay!"
Melissa's heart swelled with admiration and love for the giggling brown eyed, strawberry-blonde, who stolen all their hearts from day one. Pushing herself off the bed Melissa held her hand out for Allison and led her honorary granddaughter from the bedroom to the kitchen for a snack.
Lydia stumbled as her green five-inch heels dug deeply into the dirt once again, struggling with every step she took. The banshee contemplated taking the stupid things off and continuing on barefoot, but she feared that Caleb would punish Stiles for any sort of delay, so she pushed onward. The pull of the Nemeton grew steadily stronger along with a feeling of dread from deep within her, and the banshee knew there were almost there.
After only a few more steps Lydia, followed closely by Caleb, broke through the tree line into an unnatural clearing. At the center of the clearing stood the massive supernatural tree stump that has been nothing but trouble for Lydia and the people she cared about. Lining the clearing in a perfect circle were several tall trees their towering branches stretched out like reaching twisted and mangled claws.
The warning whispers of voices in her head increased to an incessant roar as Lydia stood frozen in place, transfixed by the Nemeton. A startled gasp slipped passed Lydia's lips as Caleb abruptly grabbed her arm in an iron grip and pulled her close; silencing the voices. Stiles lunged towards his wife and captor shouting muffled protests in alarm, but his struggle was easily countered by Colin's muscular arms.
A moment later the harsh man shoved Lydia towards Colin and Stiles. Stumbling from the force of the push, Lydia reached out with both hands and latched onto Stiles' bound arms the moment he was within reach.
"Put them there and watch them." Caleb ordered not even looking in the direction of his captives as he took deliberate steps towards the Nemeton with an unwavering gaze on the supernatural beacon.
Lydia let out a shaky sigh of relief as she finally was able to touch her husband again and allowed herself to be led to a nearby tree. The husband and wife slid down the rough bark to sit on the ground against the base of the massive tree. Lydia had to help lower Stiles as they sat down and she wondered whether his difficulty was because his hands were still restrained by those horrible metal cuffs or if his concussion was giving him trouble.
As soon as Colin stepped away from the two, Lydia reached up with gentle hands to remove the offending gag silencing her husband. It took only a few seconds for the banshee's deft pale fingers to work out the tight knot behind his head, but to Lydia it was far too long.
As the cloth fell away Stiles moved his jaw around to relieve some of the stiffness that the gag had caused, and watched with concerned eyes as Lydia tossed the fabric away as if it burned her.
Immediately, Lydia's touch returned to Stiles as she framed her husband's face with both hands and leaned in until their foreheads connected.
Stiles knew there wasn't a lot of time that he needed to tell Lydia about the mark on his chest. They needed to try to escape before it was too late, but for a moment he allowed himself to be comforted by Lydia's closeness, by her love. Stiles tilted his chin up, bringing their lips together into a desperate kiss, trying to convince himself that it wouldn't be their last one, even though he didn't believe it.
They pulled apart just far enough to talk, Stiles' breath brushed against Lydia's lips as he spoke in a rushed whisper. "We need to get out of here now. Caleb isn't going to let me go. After you left he burned some symbol into my chest above my heart, and I think…I think I'm meant to be a human sacrifice."
Lydia pulled back abruptly terror twisting her beautiful features. Carefully, the young woman pulled Stiles' shirt collar down until the mark was visible and shuttered. "Oh God." A wave of nausea washed over the strawberry-blonde at the sight of the angry burn marring her husband's chest.
The banshee's feature suddenly shifted to a familiar look of determination that brought a small smile to Stiles' exhausted face. As carefully and silently as possible Lydia reached to her feet and slipped her heels off praying that neither of their captors noticed the action. After she finished the task of removing her shoes, Lydia shifted so it would be easier and faster for her to get to her feet for their escape attempt. The strawberry-blonde's determined gaze connected with Stiles' wary one as she grasped his arms firmly, gaining strength from the contact.
However, just before Stiles and Lydia could make their move Caleb's voice called out calmly. "I really would advise against trying to run. I don't want to kill both of you." The cruel man turned away from the Nemeton and dipped his head towards the pair prompting Colin to walk up beside the husband and wife, effectively cutting off their escape route.
In defeat, Stiles closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the rough bark of the tree. The young man just couldn't understand how things had gone so terribly wrong. It was his wedding anniversary and instead of enjoying it with the love of his life he was in a different plane of existence, fighting to not be murdered by some psycho who wanted to use him as a human sacrifice.
Lydia held onto Stiles as if he was going to disappear at any moment and glared at Caleb with simmering rage. "You're a liar. You never had any intention of letting Stiles go." The banshee hissed with a venomous voice.
Caleb looked unaffected by Lydia's words and tone. "No I didn't. It is regrettable that he needs to die, but when it comes to my wife I would kill hundreds. I'm sure your husband would do the same if our roles were reversed."
Stiles snapped his eyes open and glared at Caleb ready to refute his captor's claim. But before the young father could even open his mouth Colin's voice unexpectedly sounded.
"Caleb, what are you saying?" Colin asked with clear confusion laced through his quiet voice. "You can't honestly mean to kill him?"
Caleb looked truly wrecked by his younger brother's disbelief, a few strands of black hair hanging over his eyes. "It's the only way to bring Grace back." The older Westmore's voice took on a shrill quality as he implored his brother to understand. " I didn't tell you or Helen, because no one else will bear this burden. His death will be solely on my conscience."
Colin's face fell and he shook his head. "But it won't be. You're asking me to stand by and allow you to kill him…to take an innocent person's life."
Trying to take advantage of their captors' distraction Lydia started to slowly rise and readjusted her grip on Stiles to gain better leverage to pull him to his feet. She knew they would have to move quickly once she got fully upright. But before Lydia could finish standing, she was being wrenched away from Stiles and slammed into the tree by Caleb's rough hand around her throat.
In unison, Stiles shouted Lydia's name reaching after her as she was torn away from him while Colin called out to Caleb. Stiles instantly tried to stand, hoping to help his wife, but the dangerous man halted any possible attempt by placing his knife against Lydia's stomach.
Caleb's piercing blue irises bore into Stiles freezing him in place. "Don't." He snarled, before turning his attention back to Lydia, and completely ignoring his brother's horrified expression.
Derek Hale stepped over a particularly high twisted root that protruded from the cold ground while his hazel eyes continued to sweep the forest around them. The orange glow coming from the hellhound's flames seemed to be the only light source in the deathly plane. There was no sun, no moon, and yet Derek could see even where the firelight didn't touch. It was unsettling. The black haired man scrunched his thick eyebrows together into a frown, wondering if it was his wolf that helped him see or if the humans were able to as well. Derek's calculating gaze observed Chris and John's movements and after a quick assessment decided that they too could see just fine.
Derek never liked magic and this place hummed with it. In fact, since no one else was speaking the hum was all he could hear. There were no animals or insect noises…just the hum. Having been born a werewolf Derek could always tell when another being was distraught, more attuned to others' emotional states than a bitten wolf, and Scott was sending off signals of distress like a fire alarm. The often standoffish man knew it wasn't just his worry for Stiles and Lydia that was bothering Scott, but also the hum of dark suffocating magic all around them. The only thing Derek could think of that might help the situation was a distraction and the born werewolf decided it was time Helen answered some questions.
"So you said you would answer whatever questions we had." Derek's strong voice suddenly cut through the quiet group.
Helen shifted her square glasses a bit as they slid down her nose. The female hunter used the action to evaluate Derek before affirming. "I did."
"Who's Grace?" The werewolf asked immediately and easily noted the way Argent's shoulders tensed with the question.
Helen didn't seem surprised by the question and cleared her throat in an obvious attempt to keep her voice steady. "Grace was Caleb's wife and my best friend. I'd known her since we were three, our families grew up together, we were like sisters." Her voice cracked over the word 'sisters' as tears began to gather and burn her brown eyes.
Helen was quiet for so long, struggling to rein in her emotions, that Derek thought she was done talking. However, the former hunter finally continued in a flat tone. "Grace and I did everything together. We trained together, fought the supernatural side by side, and protected those we could. I actually introduced her and Caleb when we were in high school."
Scott's heart clench painfully at the similarities between him and Stiles to Helen and Caleb. Stiles was his brother in every way but blood. They were there for each other through everything: asthma and panic attacks, Stiles' mom, Scott's dad, injures, sickness, and even when Scott became a werewolf. There was no Scott without Stiles.
The true alpha's pain abruptly shifted to anger, and he stalked towards Helen threateningly. "That doesn't give you the right to hurt others…to steal my brother's life for your own benefit! You don't get to choose who lives and who dies!" Scott shouted irrationally.
"I know that! That's why I'm here!" Helen yelled right back and stared the true alpha down, breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt." She lowered her voice and continued, "When I found out the truth of Caleb's plan I came to you. I don't want Stiles to die either, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn't."
Scott visibly deflated when he heard no lie in Helen's words. "I'm sorry. I…I just can't lose him."
John placed a strong and comforting hand on the true alpha's upper arm, and pulled him along next to him as the group continued to follow behind Parish. "We're not gonna lose him, Scott. Not a chance any one of us will let that happen." The sheriff wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more, his unofficial second son or himself.
Scott allowed himself to be pulled along feeling more like the lost teenager whose life completely changed after being bitten by a werewolf than the true alpha of a strong pack that he was.
Chris Argent watched the two walk ahead of him and tightened the grip on his pistol, silently seething. "I just don't understand. The four of you used to be one of the best hunting teams around. One that my daughter looked up to when we changed our family code to protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. You used to protect the innocent. I never thought that Caleb would be capable of something like this." Chris' voice held an irritation that only someone who knew him well could decipher. An irritation that happened when the experienced hunter couldn't wrap his mind around something.
Helen released an exhausted sigh. "Everything went to hell when Grace died." She responded dejectedly.
Always wanting to have the answers, a trait he proudly shared with his son, John asked the question that had been on his mind since Helen first mentioned Grace's death. "How did she die?"
The young woman hesitated for a moment before she spoke. Her soft voice washing over the traveling group. "We had just finished a job. A group of wendigos that had a penchant for young kids. Colin had been hurt so Caleb and I stayed home to fix him up while Grace went out to get something for dinner. We…we were going to celebrate." Helen's voice caught in her throat as her emotions overwhelmed her and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. The female hunter tried in vain to clear her throat, but when she continued her voice was shaky and brittle. "Sh— she never made it home that night. A drunk driver crashed into Grace's car head on…she died on impact."
John had seen too many head on collisions during his time in law enforcement and they were never easy to handle. The sheriff's mind flashed briefly to a time when Stiles was only two and Claudia was still alive. He had just gotten home from work after a particularly bad car accident where a toddler had died before the ambulance could arrive. John remembered clearly how he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking, not until Claudia placed Stiles into his arms and held them both tight.
John felt a pang of lost from the memory; Claudia always knew what to do or say to make someone feel better. God he missed her. The sheriff looked at the obviously still grieving woman and understand the misery radiating from the former hunter. "I'm sorry for your loss. I know what it's like to lose someone you love…my wife…and no matter how long it's been I still miss her everyday."
The sincerity in his voice brought fresh tears from the female hunter, but also strengthened her resolve that helping them was the right decision. This time when Helen continued she did so with a steady voice. "Caleb couldn't accept that Grace died in such a mundane way, so he started seeing the supernatural where it wasn't. He was convinced that a witch or another creature cursed us, and that he was intentionally robbed of his chance at happiness. So he began looking for a way to bring Grace back and delved into dark magic, Druidic rituals, and making deals with the very creatures we used to hunt."
Helen moved closer to Scott and John, eyes red with irritation from crying, desperate for them to understand. "I know it doesn't make up for anything we've done, but we were desperate to bring back someone we loved. I believed Caleb when he said no one would get hurt. I should have known better…I just…I wanted to believe it."
A sudden wailing high-pitched scream shattered the quiet of the supernatural forest around them. The shrieking sound drilled into the rescue groups minds, causing them to cover their ear tightly in an attempt to block the painful sound. A loud crashing followed the scream, the noise similar to a bomb exploding, and a forceful rush of energy slammed into the group causing them all to stumble back.
Scott shook his head to dispel the ringing from his ears as dread washed over the true alpha. "That was Lydia."
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