A/N This is a prequel to "Bodies of Water ..." but you don't have to read the first story to understand this one. It might even be fun, reading this one without knowing anything about this world.
As for the crossover part, Sam and Dean show up later in this story but I don't know how long they intend to stay and how big their part in the story will be. This is mainly a Teen Wolf story.
Warning: John starts in a dark place. This story contains a suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, and alcoholism.
Hitting Rock Bottom (or Lake Bottom)
The funeral had been yesterday but John Stilinski was still wearing his suit.
He didn't remember much about yesterday. Just too many people telling him how sorry they were. He'd wanted them gone, that he remembered clearly. And then he'd spent the night in a too empty house with too much food in the fridge because every neighbor thought that he would starve if they didn't bring him a casserole. He hadn't been able to eat anything. Every time he looked at all the food, he remembered that he would have to eat it alone. Claudia was gone.
She had died alone and scared in a hospital bed while her husband had been out at the lake in search of some stupid teenagers. In the end, he'd been too late to save the kids and he'd been too late to be at his wife's side in her last moments.
John took a sip straight out of the bottle. He hadn't been able to touch any of the food but the bottle of Jack had looked appealing. He had started decently with just a finger in a real glass. He remembered that. He'd sat down, had loosened his tie, and had poured himself a drink. After everything, he'd deserved one.
How he'd ended up here, he didn't know. He had lost his tie somewhere but he was still wearing his suit and he was clinging to the neck of the bottle as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did.
John took another sip before he had a look around to find out where the hell he was.
Somewhere in the woods. Beacon Hills was surrounded by forest, he could be anywhere.
"Great, now my boss has to send out a search party for me," John grumbled but he kept walking. He was on a path, it had to lead somewhere, right?
He wasn't surprised when he saw water through the line of trees. It was getting late, the sun was about to disappear behind the trees and the last beams of sunlight reflected on the calm surface of the lake.
John stepped out between the trees to orientate himself.
He was opposite to where the teenagers had been camping, he realized. That was where he'd spent the better part of last week, searching for them before they had been found dead in the water. It was still a mystery how all of them had drowned like that but figuring that out was above John's pay grade. As the rookie of the team, he was good enough to be part of the search party but not responsible for answering the big questions.
He was trying to tell himself that that was the reason he'd come here, that maybe they had overlooked something earlier and he might be able to find a clue but he knew that was a lie. They had searched thoroughly but they had found nothing. And this place was on the other side of the lake, there was nothing to find here.
To the left was a cabin but it was dark and looked empty. A pier was leading out into the lake but there was no boat in sight. This place was abandoned.
John took another sip of the bottle and walked over to the pier.
The lake was lying calm and peaceful in front of him, it was easy to forget that four teenagers had died here just a few days ago.
It wasn't unusual. People drowned in the lake. Must be some wicked undercurrent or something but everybody in Beacon Hills knew to be careful at the lake. Nobody just came here for a swim. On a dare maybe but not just to have a good time.
John looked over to the other shore that was barely visible in the distance. The teenagers had been outsiders. Two couples from Oregon on a road trip who on a whim had decided to stay a few days at the lake.
Neither John nor anybody else at the department would have even known that somebody was camping out here if it hadn't been for Stiles.
"How do you fit in?" John wondered and walked down the pier. The pier had been standing for a while. The wooden planks looked old, worn by the weather and with moss in the cracks, but they were solid and held his weight with ease. John barely felt a spring in the planks when he walked out to the end of the pier. Which was probably for the better, he wasn't sure if he was fit for swimming at the moment. He was pretty drunk if he was honest.
He sat down with a heavy thud, feet dangling over the edge. The water was still a few inches below his black dress shoes. Would be a shame to ruin those. They were the only good ones he had. Same with the suit.
"Should have thought about that before I took a hike in the woods." John raised the bottle to that.
His shoes were muddy and most likely scratched from dragging his feet up the path. He felt dampness seeping through the seat of his pants and he just knew that he would be walking home with green stains on his butt but he didn't care. Claudia had picked the suit and the shoes for him, on his own he would have chosen some hideous thing, checkered most likely.
And now he'd worn it at her funeral. It was probably for the better if he ruined it now, he wouldn't wear it ever again anyway.
Staring out over the lake, his mind wandered back to Stiles. They had crossed paths a few times. As the youngest deputy, it had been John who had to come out to give a stern talk to a teenage shoplifter. This was Beacon Hills, not some big city. Here it was enough to bring the teenager home to their parents in a sheriff's cruiser, with all the neighbors gossiping about it for days, to cure the idiot. But not Stiles.
Stiles was not intimidated by talking to a deputy. He refused to tell John his real name or where he lived and he happily climbed into the cruiser when John had told him that he didn't have another choice but to take him in until they had found his parents.
John had thought that a few hours in a cell would get him to cooperate but instead, Stiles had just vanished. A goddamn teenager escaped out of a holding cell. The door had still been locked and there was nothing amiss aside from the fact that the cell had been empty when John had wanted to check on him.
"How did you do that?" John wondered not for the first time. Because the other day Stiles had done it again.
Whatever had happened to those teenagers, Stiles was involved. Somehow. He'd been at the station, complaining about them camping on private property but since it wasn't his property, and he still refused to tell him his name, John hadn't been able to do anything about it. For all he knew the owner had given them permission to camp there. Not that he'd cared, his wife had been dying in the hospital.
Stiles also had been the one who had reported the teenagers missing. And he'd called it in when the first body washed up at the shore. He had been there every step of the way, Sheriff Thompson had no other choice than to take him in. Stiles was at least a witness if not the culprit.
But he escaped from his cell. Again. While John had been on duty.
Sheriff Thompson had ripped him a new one and John knew that the only reason he still had a job was because of his dead wife. He shouldn't have been working that day but this was a big case and they needed everybody on it.
"To you, Claudia." John raised the bottle and downed the last drops. He tried to remember her smile but all he could see in his mind was the fragile figure in the hospital bed that was screaming obscenities at him. In the end, she hadn't even known who he was.
"Still." He sighed. "I should have been there."
He blinked against the tears.
They had been high school sweethearts. They had married young, some said too young, but John had known that it was her. And she had known that he was the one for her. They had bought a house and had talked about having kids. Everything had been perfect.
"The house is too empty without you," John said. "Everything is too empty without you."
He raised the bottle to his lips but it was empty.
"Figures." With a heavy sigh, he set it aside. He put his elbows on his knees and looked down into the water. By now it was almost dark and the water below was a black void, calling for him.
Last night, when he'd sat in the dark with just his thoughts and a bottle of Jack for company, he had thought about going upstairs and to open the safe. He'd thought about his gun. He'd thought about the weight of it in his hand, the taste of it if he put it in his mouth. He'd thought about that for long hours. In the end, he hadn't gone upstairs. The safe was still locked with his gun inside. Instead, he'd come here.
Nobody came here just for fun. Teenagers on a dare, yes, but it was also a spot where people went who didn't intend to come back.
John looked down into the dark water. He didn't know how deep it was, it was impossible to tell. Just a black surface that was calling him. It didn't matter how deep it was. He was drunk. If he … happened to fall in, chances were high that wouldn't get out again.
John didn't know how long he'd been staring into the water. By now it was completely dark. There were no lights out here, just the faint light of the stars reflecting on the surface.
If he wasn't careful he would fall in by accident. John snorted at that thought.
A shadow moved in the water.
For a second he thought that it was a cloud in front of the moon but there was no cloud and there was no moon tonight.
"Great, I'm drunk enough to see things." With the heel of his hand, he rubbed his eye but when he looked back into the water, the shadow was still there. It had stopped moving and was now just below his feet. A black hole in the dark surface of the lake.
"Come."
The voice startled John and he almost did fall into the water by accident.
"Hello?" Slowly John came to his feet. "Is somebody there?"
He squinted into the night but there was nobody in sight. Which didn't have to mean anything. John couldn't even make out the other end of the pier in the darkness.
"Come," the voice said again. It was soft and tempting.
John turned back to the lake.
The shadow was still there, waiting just under the surface, but it was smaller now. It was hard to tell but John thought that it kind of looked like a person.
The cop part of his brain got ready to dive in to rescue the dumbass who'd come out here for a late-night swim but something held him back. And that was not the part that was telling him that he would most likely drown if he jumped in dunk as he was. No, this was something deeper. Something at the base of his skull told him that he was in danger. John reached for his gun just to realized that it was still in the safe at home.
"Don't be afraid," the voice continued. It was hard to tell but John thought it was male. "Come into the water. Come to me."
John caught himself before he stepped over the edge but a part of him wanted to follow that voice. A part of him wanted to just fall forward and let go. It was tempting.
That thing that almost looked like a person was now looking up at him. Even in the darkness, John could make out a pale face. The eyes were hidden in the shadow but John knew that it was looking at him.
He wanted to take a step back, to get away from the edge but he just stood there and stared into the water.
"Come." The thing held out its hand. It didn't break the surface but the gesture was clear.
John shook his head to clear his mind. Damn, he was drunk. He should go home. Go home to his empty house. He was pretty sure that he had another bottle somewhere. He could sit in the dark and drink until he passed out. Or until he got upstairs and opened the safe.
Or he could just end it here. Without really noticing he inched closer to the edge again.
In the end, he didn't even know if he went over the edge on purpose or if it was a drunken stumble but when John fell into the water he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.