"Lydia?..." Stiles says wearily.
Sat on the couch in the darkroom, fire eliminating her face grimly as the crimson blood drips from her mouth and down the front side of her flower pattern dress.
Lydia's eyes never leave her prey as she lifts her bloodied hand and holds out a delicate silver chain, the silver cross bouncing and glittering in the light.
He sighs deeply, roughly running a hand through his hair, he walks over and slumps down on the couch opposite of her.
"Has the catholic church sent us one of their presents again? What a pleasant surprise. They are so rare nowadays." Lydia snorts and smiles looking up at him slyly,
"Well you know me, any contribution I can give to ridding the world of religious conversion is something that I pride myself greatly on." He smirks,
"Lydia you know, if this was a present from one of your admirers I have to say that I'm truly impressed. Wish I would've thought of it first." Lydia laughs, rolling her eyes as she says,
"Please Stiles, you spoil me enough. But now that you mention it, I did feel overly delighted watching the life drain from his eyes. It's as if someone sent him to me on purpose." He frowns knowing how much Lydia hates the human religion, what they did to her…
Lydia clears her throat, "But I have to say even the Catholic Church has better manners than this. At least they come to the front door. I found him trying to sneak his way in through the yard. I couldn't believe my eyes, not even after I had ripped out his heart with my fangs." He smirks as he shakes his head,
"This town never ceases to amaze me…" Derek's kiss replays in his head as he bites his lip. Focus Stiles. Shaking his head he says,
"Did you find anything else on him?" Lydia shrugs,
"Hunters knife, revolver, obviously useless against us, so I can only assume he was either set up or stumbled upon the wrong house."
"Hmm…" He stands and walks over to the corpse, using his foot to turn the guy's body over to see if he recognizes him. He's young, gaunt face, blonde, blue sunken eyes, probably in his late teens. He can still smell the faint smoke on his clothes in dirt covered hunter's gear, all the signs so convenient. A truly pathetic move.
"It's a setup. Hunters are smart, they don't travel alone so I wouldn't put it past them to send in a young recruit to see who was living in this house. When he doesn't return, it should only be a matter of time before whoever sent him comes looking for us. We need to warn the others," He says giving Lydia a pointed look before picking up the body and flinging it over his shoulder. Lydia nods, looking at the body in disgust,
"Sick bastards." Stiles sighs,
"Thank you for handling it, Lydia. Want to go into town? Drinks are on me." Lydia smirks through her bloody fangs,
"Deal," and then Lydia's gone, already out the door. He sighs deeply, letting the severity of the situation settle in as he adjusts the body and heads down towards the crematory in the cellar.
Stiles stares through the slit of plexiglass, watching as the flames in gulf him, the boy lost in his thoughts of the past. His younger self a haunting face stumbling through the woods. Lost and starved as demons looked on, whispering evil taunts while laughing into his ears. Hunger and pain the only things keeping him alive. He could've very likely been this boy, used, as someone's sick pawn. Smirking he rolls his eyes, stupid, stupid boy if only he knew.
The kids easily destructible, human bones nothing more than embers and smoke now. Walking out, that incessant itch crawls under his skin in full force, making his hands twitch with the feral need to kill.
Hurrying up to his room he showers and changes into his self-fitting, hunter's gear. An all black jumpsuit with aerodynamic water resistant, long sleeves shirt, leather covered patting black leather boots, and gun holster. He walks out of his room just in time to see Jackson walking down the hallway.
"Heyyy Stilinski. You're looking…murderous." He smirks at Jackson's typical backhanded compliment which usually happens right before asking a favor so he says,
"Thanks, Whittemore. What do you want?" They walk together in sync, heading back down the hallway.
Jackson smirked, "Oh you know, just checking up on my favorite Stilinski. Lydia tells me you're going into town and Danny and I want to tag along." Stiles quirks an eyebrow up at him,
"Uh sure, if you guys behave yourselves? We just moved in. I don't want to make a spectacle of us." Jackson smiles sweetly, God, he was going to regret this.
"Of course. We'll be on our best behavior." Stiles smirks and shakes his head. Lies.
"Have you heard from Allison and Isaac?" Jackson shrugs,
"No, they're probably fucking each other's brains out somewhere." He laughs,
"Ugh, you're terrible Whittemore." Jackson forwards his brows,
"I wasn't trying to be funny." Stiles just shakes his head, smiling at him as they walk towards the living room, hearing Lydia's laugh echo through the hallway. Opening the doors to the formal living room, Lydia, Danny, Allison, and Isaac are all sitting around the fireplace.
"Oh god, Not you guys too!" Jackson says, overdramatically.
Stiles gasps, "I knew it! You set me up! You asshole!"
Allison smiles. "Surprise!" Allison says, walking over to give Stiles a peck on the cheek.
Allison hugs Jackson too, holding his hand as she turns to Stiles and says,
"This is the clan's last night altogether! We need to go out and have some fun!" He scoffs, as he arches his brow up at her,
"Your definition of fun Allison is taste testing all the college kids at the bar. We need to stay undercover ok? No one is allowed to kill anyone tonight. As I'm sure Lydia has told you guys, we were set up and the last thing I want is to reinforce what those assholes think of us." Jackson rolls his eyes,
"Oh please, the sheer level of our ridiculous combined attractiveness, is enough to render any opponent helpless," Jackson says with a sly smirk.
"I agree. I mean look at us?" Lydia says, walking over to Jackson and putting a hand over his shoulder, like a tag team. He sighs, unable to resist their squinty model stares. A night of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll might just be what the doctor ordered. To relish in the teenage anonymity that plagues their lives, so it's been decided.
"Well…Fuck it! I need a drink. Let's go!"
Everyone whoops as if they just scored a goal as Allison jumps into Stiles's arms hugging him tightly before linking arms with a love sick Isaac. Unable to keep the smile off his face, he watches his clan leave through the front doors, Jackson, Lydia, and Danny in one car, and Stiles, Allison, and Isaac in another.
Driving through Beacon Hills traffic in his navy blue jeep wrangler, Stiles leads the clan to town, feeling slightly agitated, his fingers drum on the steering wheel, watching as the new and improved skyscrapers of Beacon Hills pass them by.
"Jeez, I have no idea where I am." He says under his breath.
"Has it changed much since you've been here?" Allison asks from the back seat. Stopping at a red light, Stiles looks around at all the new buildings,
"Oh yeah definitely, there was literally nothing here. Just some old diners and stores. Beacon Hills didn't even have a movie theater..."
"You were alive when there were movie theaters? God, your old." Isaac says teasingly. He laughs,
"You say that now, but 500 years is nothing my friend."
"Yeah, Isaac some of us were alive when virtual reality wasn't invented and we couldn't 3d print whatever we wanted by whim," Allison says annoyed.
"Oh yeah, I forgot your almost the same age. Immortality has never looked so good..." Isaac says smugly, the sound of Allison and Isaac kissing makes him scrunch up his nose,
"Eck god, can you not? I'm going to barf! Shit!" Slamming down on the brakes with all his might, Allison and Isaac in the back gasps. Stiles honks at a group of drunk college guys walking across the street, nearly inches away from getting run over by Stiles's jeep.
"Hey! Watch it!" He yells out the window, fangs ready to rip into someone's flesh as the group of guys laugh and flip Stiles off as they drunkenly walk to the other side of the street to the next bar.
"Fucking morons! What is wrong with them?" The back of the car erupts with laughter. He sighs deeply, calming himself his fangs retract, shaking hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly, he forces himself to continue driving down the road. Stiles makes quick to park, getting out to meet up with Jackson, Lydia, and Danny.
"It should be this way.." Lydia says, leading the Vampire clan to the hip new spot Stiles hadn't even known existed until Lydia texted him the address.
They walk down an empty alleyway eliminated by torchlight. Approaching the huge metal sliding door, Nyx, the Goddess of night iridescent symbol, glitters back at their inhuman eyes and is engraved into the medal.
"Let me do the talking," Lydia says, unzipping her black widow's suit a little more to reveal her cleavage, she grabs Allison's hand, dressed in a white body-curving jumpsuit, and brings her to the front. He rolls his eyes and smirks, as Lydia knocks on the door loudly, the bass thrumming techno music vibrating through the medal.
The door slides open in an instant, revealing an androgynous feline bouncer, looking at them up and down.
"Oh, thank god…" Lydia says. The feline bouncer forwards its brows in confusion at her but she's already got it by the collar of its black shirt, staring into its golden slitted eyes, she says in a stern voice,
"Let us in." And in an instant, the metal door swings open, thanks to Lydia's mind compulsion. They make their way through the sweaty crowded bodies of Beacon Hill's youth.
Sighing deeply when they make their way to the bar, Stiles runs a hand through his hair, scoping out the club for any suspecting beings. Marking exists and windows in case of an emergency, he eyes Lydia who nods and smiles at him.
Walking over to him and handing him a bloody mary, Lydia leans in to whisper into his ear,
"Relax babe. The most important parties to attend are the ones you're not invited to."
Stiles sighs, "Yeah? Well, some people don't always follow your etiquette, Lydia. Look around. This place is designed for the cursed and wicked." He gulps down the rest of his drink. Stiles could literally feel the dark negative energy radiating off the crowd in waves. This club was supernaturally exclusive, meaning anything and anyone was allowed to enter, which could be quite the deadly mix.
Lydia shrugs, "Never stopped us before? Let's get you another drink." Lydia orders them each 3 shots,
"Ready?" Lydia asks with a wicked grin. Stiles winks back.
"Ready when you are."
"One, Two, Three!" Stiles and Lydia both down their shots in seconds.
"Ha! Yes! Beat you again!" Lydia laughs out loud as Stiles sticks his tongue out at her, she only managed to beat him by mere nanoseconds. Each of them grabs lime slices to suck on.
Jackson comes over to them leaning over Stiles's shoulder to look at his shots,
"Uh oh. Three vodka shots in a row? Lydia, you better watch out for this one. Stilinski's a lightweight."
"Fuck off Whittemore!" He yells as Lydia laughs, pulling his hand onto the dance floor.
Unlike mortal clubs, supernatural clubs didn't have flashing lights beaming everywhere, which can hurt sensitive inhuman eyes. No, rather opting for changing colored, soft fluorescent lights and dimly lit candles.
This place although particularly old, red bricked, and rustic had one hell of a sound system. Seemly vibrating the floors, with its heavy bass, and harmonic sounds, it was as if the bodies of people were moving as one. Swaying and lost Stiles suddenly felt a chill run down his body.
Something felt off...
Looking around to people smiling and dancing, he lets it go, still in trance with the music.
Hours must pass by as Stiles and Lydia dance with numbers of guys and girls, it's all just a blur until he sees glowing red eyes moving through the crowd.
The crowd parts like the barren sea as it forms comes into view, devil horns curled perfectly on top of its head, cladded in a skimpy red silk, one piece, bust practically bursting at the seams with long silver hair down her winged back. He can only stare as the Succubus makes its way straight towards him.
Looking at Lydia who's completely lost in the music, grinding against some blonde muscled dude, Stiles gasps as his hands being pulled back and he's coming face to face with the demon, who's eyeing him suspiciously.
"Vampire, It's not often that I stumble upon someone like you, in a place like this…" The Succubus smiles slyly, sucking from a vapor-pen, and blowing the watermelon scented smoke into his face.
"The names Stiles. Stiles Stilinski." He says, loudly over the music.
"Oh? Sounds familiar. Have we met before?" The Succubus says in his ear. He shivers.
"Yeah, you might have heard of me." He shrugs, slightly uncomfortable with the way the Succubus is eyeing him. Leaning in to talk to him she says,
"I don't mean to offend but there's something about you, makes me feel like you need some help that only someone like me, can give you…" Stiles forwards his brows in confusion,
"I don't know about that…."
"Shhh, don't you worry, we'll get right to work." The Succubus says before grabbing his collar and kissing him deeply, sending an electrical current throughout his body. Gasping, he pulls away, feeling his body heat up in an instant, the Succubus saunters away and over to Lydia, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips too before he can stop her and disappears into the crowd.
"Shit," Stiles says breathlessly, the room swirls, feeling the blood leave his head and down to his cock.
Looking at Lydia's blurred out form, he squints and sees her and the muscled guy literally down each other's throats. Stiles groans when a guy comes up behind him and grabs his hips. With the magic of the Succubus running through his veins, he's unable to hold back, grinding back shamelessly.
Feeling his fangs elongate against his will, Stiles turns around, looking at the young guy's face, dark hair, tanned skin and just his type. The guy grabs him and brings their bodies closer. He leans in for a kiss, instantly regretting it as the guy forces his tongue down his throat.
The kiss is all wrong, there's no scruff rubbing against his skin or nipping at his lips or mouth watering amber aroma. Snarling, Stiles pushes away and grabs a handful of the guy's hair, inches away from his throat. He smirks, looking around and spotting the bathroom, dragging the guy away from the dance floor for some privacy.
Pushing him into the bathroom the guy huffs out a breath as Stiles pushes him up against one of the stalls. Grabbing a fist full of his hair Stiles pulls his head back to reveal more of his neck, his fangs sinking into the guy's flesh, gulping down mouth full's of his blood in seconds.
He can feel the guy struggling underneath his hold but it's the overwhelming nauseousness that makes him stop, gagging, the guy cries out and runs out of the bathroom for his life.
Stiles gags barely making it to the toilet before he's falling onto his knees and throwing up his guts. It seems like it lasts for hours until he's sitting back on the ground, disoriented and feeling like complete shit.
Flushing and walking back out of the stalls, Stiles splashes cold water on his face, looking at his dark circled eyes in his reflection. For a moment he's unable to recognize himself, the bad lighting making him appear years older. The door swinging closed behind him, thankfully distracting him from having another existential crisis.
The drunk, happy gay couple come in laughing as they stand nearby, a few sinks away. One of their hands reaches into skin tight jeans for a wallet and from inside take out a small bag of cocaine.
Stiles smirked, standing up straighter to watch them roll up dollar bills and snort the straight credit card lines right off the bathroom sink. He saunters over, his eyes already capturing their gazes into a trance like mind compulsion.
Both of them still as he snatches one of their rolled up dollar bills to finish the last three lines for them. His eyes roll back when the euphoric high hits him, snorting one last time before opening his hazy eyes and walking out, heading straight back to the bar.
Ordering a glass of whiskey, Stiles sits on one of the bar stools with his head in his hands. Enchanted green eyes and sexy tan, muscled scorching skin, rubbing against him, fucking into him, clouding his thoughts. Stiles bites his lip until he draws blood, aching to moan out the forbidden name from his lips before his dream like hallucination gets interrupted.
"There you are!" Lydia calls out when Stiles squints at her, her suit's completely unzipped and she's practically falling over herself. He stands instantly, grabbing her before she falls clumsily to the ground.
"Stiles! Where did you go?" He sighs, wiping the hair away from her face,
"To the bathroom. Are you feeling alright?" Lydia nods as he helps her onto the stool next to him. The bartender leaves a glass of water on the bar, sending a small smile. Stiles nods back at him in thanks.
"Lydia?" He watches her take a long sip from her glass, before catching his concerned gaze and rolling her eyes,
"I'm fine! I'm fine Stiles." She slurs out in frustration which has him forwarding his brows with even more concern.
"I just…I want...I want Peter." Lydia groans, he puts an arm around her shoulder.
"Trying to forget about him?" Stiles asks all too knowingly. She nods, sighing deeply and zipping up her suit.
"If he wasn't so good in bed, I'd totally have him replaced by now. Just no one seems to be…to match up." Lydia pouts, he nods and smirks,
"Trust me, Lydia, I know, but those Hales are nothing but trouble." She sighs again,
"I know. I hate him." Stiles laughs,
"Have you heard from the others?" Lydia nods her head, taking her phone out,
"Jackson took everyone home. They left like two hours ago."
"What? What the hell?" Stiles pulls out his phone and see's 10 missed calls and texts of Jackson cursing at him.
"Well, shit…" He sighs deeply. Lydia gasps,
"Fuck!"
"What! What happened!" Stiles asks, leaning over to look into her phone.
"I may or may not have drunk texted Peter to come get me…" It's Stiles turn to gasp as he looks at her with wide eyes.
"Lydia! You didn't!" Lydia laughs, making him laugh too, thinking of Peter Hale catching Lydia dancing with that younger, good looking guy she was with earlier.
"How long ago was that?" He asks.
"Like two hours ago! Wait I need to text him back."
"Oh. My. God. You're so screwed." Stiles says biting his lip, laughing at Lydia's wide eyes.
"Ohmygod. Stiles! He's typing! He's typing!" Lydia grabs his arm, both of them bracing themselves for his text.
Ping! And Lydia's face drops.
"No! No Lydia! Don't tell me he's been waiting outside this whole time!" Stiles shouts, nearly jumping out of his seat in apprehension. Lydia looks back at him and then back at her phone.
"It says to come outside…" Stiles eyes widen and then he's bursting out laughing as Lydia's facepalms.
"Uh oh. Someone's in trouble now." He says, teasingly.
"Shut up Stiles! You know you're coming with me right?" Lydia says smirking.
"What? I have a car. I can drive home. I can drive you home. I don't know why Peter would wait..." She rolls her eyes,
"Stiles you're literally just as wasted as I am. There's no way you're driving home tonight." He stands offended,
"Am not!" Stiles smirks as he sways a little. "Ok, maybe a little. But I can drive home perfectly fine!" Lydia rolls her eyes for the hundredth time and grabs his arm, dragging him away from the bar.
"Wait…Lydia!" He pouts until their outside and walking back down the dark foggy alleyway. When Stiles and Lydia make it to the sidewalk, they immediately spot the black Rolls Royce phantom head beams penetrating through the thick fog.
Stiles scoffs, "Show off…"
"Let's go," Lydia says pulling him over to the passenger side of the car. The door swings open and by the electric blue eyes glaring at them, Peter was pissed. Grabbing Lydia's arm away from Stiles, he snarls loudly,
"Where the hell were you?" To her face. Before she can respond Stiles sees red and transforms, punching the werewolf in the face.
"Don't you fucking touch her!" He yells. Lydia tries to stand in front of him before Peters aggressively pushing her out of the way and pouncing at him, which makes Stiles even more infuriated.
Baring his fangs, he dodges Peter's attack and grabs his arm, twisting it at an unnatural angle, breaking his arm in half before pushing him to the ground. Peter snarls loudly and surprisingly lunges back at him, too fast for his intoxicating senses to catch as he kicks Stiles's feet from under him. He trips and slams his head against the ground. Peter picks him up by his collar but before he's able to touch Stiles again, Lydia grabs him by his shirt and pins him against the car.
"Enough!" Lydia yells. Holding Peter's broken arm against his back. Peter growls, but Lydia flexes her hand and he whimpers, panting he changes back into his human form. Huffing out a laugh, Peter says,
"Alright, alright! I'll keep my hands to myself!" Lydia lets him go as she turns and glares back at him.
"You too Stiles." He huffs out a frustrated breath and nods getting up, he winces, feeling the back of his head, the rare sight of his blood covering his hand greets him. He rolls his eyes, hastily wiping his hand on his pants to get rid of the evidence, not wanting Peter to get any self-satisfaction from catching him off guard.
Lydia makes Peter and him sit on opposite sides of her as Peters suave chauffeur drives them back to the Hales estate. Stiles wants to protest but it's not like he can get his jeep so he begrudgingly keeps quiet, seething in the back in the awkward silence. He sighs deeply, wanting so badly to reach over Lydia and rip Peter's throat out.
When they finally get to the house, he gets out quickly, not bothering to wait to be led inside, and opens the garage door into the house, trying to put as much distance between him and Derek's asshole of an uncle. He walks down the hallway, to the kitchen and searches the cabinets for a glass.
"I don't care! If you ever touch him again, I'll rip out your spleen from your asshole! Now go to your room!" Lydia whispers angrily, as her and Peters steps come down the hall. He smirks, retrieving a glass from the cabinet, and fills his cup with water from the sink's filter. Just as Lydia's heels walk into the kitchen Stiles turns around. Sighing deeply, Lydia walks up to him and hugs him.
"Thank you, Stiles. I'm not mad at you." He nods against her shoulder and leans back.
"Your welcome." Lydia gives him a small smile, which he returns.
"I'll make him pay later tonight. Don't you worry." Lydia says with a determined smirk. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head,
"I don't want to know." Lydia laughs, as the light from the kitchen gets turned on.
They both turn as Derek's sleepy form comes into view, pillow headed hair and shirtless, in a pair of happy trail showing, grey sweatpants. Stiles mouth instantly waters. Lydia looks back at him with a knowing smirk on her face.
"Stiles. What the hell are you guys doing here? Do you know what time it is?" Derek says, looking annoyed.
"Well Ummm..." Lydia hits his stomach as his eyes snap back and see's a beautiful melanin rich girl walk past Derek to grab a glass, in nothing but a robe. A Robe…
Stiles gapes. The girl stalls, noticing she's being stared at.
"Uh hi?" The girl says, forwarding her brows in confusion. Lydia gives him a stern look as he huffs out a laugh. He only gets in three steps before Lydia's holding him back.
"RUN!" Lydia yells before Stiles is transforming and pushing Lydia out the way to get his hands around the girl's neck.
"Braeden get back!" Derek yells. The girl jumps, dropping the glass on the floor, and runs over to Derek who holds her behind him.
"Who is she! Derek! Huh? What the fuck is she doing here!" Stiles snarls, trying to lunge towards Derek but Lydia's standing in the way.
"Stiles please! Calm down!" Lydia yells, pushing him up against the counter. Waking up the entire house, the light on the hallway turns on and all the wolves in Derek's pack come running out of their rooms.
"Stiles?" Scott says, from across the kitchen.
"Let me go! Let go of me, Lydia!" He yells, foaming at the mouth but she doesn't move.
"Derek! You fucking asshole!" Cora yells, running over to him, wiping the unnoticed blood from his mouth, his fangs having dug into the bottom of his lip. Scott comes over too, looking at Stiles with concern.
"It's not my fault! I didn't bring him here! Peter did!" Derek yells, growling as Peter saunters into the room with a sly smirk on his face,
"They're a package deal. It's not my fault that someone doesn't know how to keep it in their pants."
The alpha snarls, punching Peter in the face but before the two can fight Cora and the rest of the pack come running over to hold them back.
Stiles can't help but laugh out loud, "Let me at him! Lydia!" He needed to teach Derek who he belongs to.
Lydia shakes her head, "No! Stiles you're drunk!" Scott looks between him and Derek and yells,
"STOP!" In the most alpha like voice Stiles has ever heard as everyone stops suddenly.
"Everyone out! Except for Derek and Stiles! Now!" The other wolves leave, including Derek's one nightstand as Lydia tenses.
"It's alright Lydia. I can handle it." Scott says, walking up towards her. Stiles is too busy trying to get from under her hold that when she leaves, he walks right into Scott's punch, nearly blacking out in the process. Scott holds him by the collar of his shirt, keeping him upright as Stiles's vision comes back into focus.
"Scott... " Derek snarls out warningly.
"You need to go Stiles. Now." Scott's stern voice was like ice down his back, cooling him down enough to properly draw in his attention. He pushes Scott away, huffing out a laugh, he wipes the blood from his mouth, glaring past Scott and at Derek for getting him in trouble. He walks out of the kitchen and down the stairs to the front door. Before Stiles can open the door Scotts torn voice reaches his ears.
"What is wrong with you!" It's not directed at him but it might as well be.
He hangs his head and walks out. The run back to his estate is a blur, making his way into his room someone calls his name stilling him in his tracks. From down the hallway, Allison comes running out of her room dressed in a white slip.
"Stiles your back! Oh no, what happened?" Allison says, grabbing his face to expect his eye. Stiles flinches from her touch.
"Nothing that I can't heal from. I'm fine Allison, really." Allison sighs deeply,
"Well, you don't look fine Stiles. Come on, I'll help patch you up." Unable to resists Allison's sweet dimpled smile Stiles lets her into his room. Walking straight into the bathroom, he sits upon the sink's marble counter in a daze as Allison follows, closing the door from behind her.
"Did you notice the French door? I sent someone in here to fix the glass pane." Her lighthearted voice, sounding forced even through Stiles's hazy cognition. Turning around, her laser eye focus feels like it's piercing through his very soul, his façade cracking in seconds as he winces looking back down at the floor. Allison is by his side in an instant, hugging him tightly to her chest.
"It's alright Stiles. I know lately, it's been really hard for you." He lets out a shaky breath, sinking into her hold. Allison suddenly sits back, holding his chin in her hands, she gasps, wiping at the unnoticed tears on his cheeks.
"It's turned on isn't it?" Allison says with finality. Stiles sniffs, wiping away the tears embarrassed.
"No, I…it can't be." He says, shaking his head. There was no way Stiles humanity was turned on. He was sure of it. The constant itch he feels to kill something reminds him of it daily. Allison sighs,
"I know from personal experience Stiles. When your humanity is turned on, it may seem difficult to separate your feelings. Love, loss, anger, desire, it can all blur into one urge. Hunger."
He scoffs, "Yeah Allison, like I would intentionally turn on my humanity and boom, a rush of memories, rush of guilt! That sounds so amazing..."
Allison rolls her eyes, reaching down to the drawers of the sink and pulling out cotton pads, running them under the water.
"Close your eyes." He closes his bruised eye and watches as Allison wipes at the dried blood, sighing deeply she says,
"I know it may seem overwhelming and I'm not saying it's easy but when it's on… you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. Beautiful things are more beautiful. Everything's more heightened, more alive…" Allison grabs for another cotton pad, watching her squeeze the remaining water out as he says,
"Exactly! Anger becomes rage. Sadness becomes despair, Grief. Loss. It can cripple you. Make you weak. If I let myself feel, all I will feel is pain!" He says, voice shaking. Allison gives him a knowing look, which has Stiles hanging his head in defeat. She cleans up his wound, kissing it as she holds his hand.
"Stiles, you don't always have to be so strong. We are your friends! It's ok if you share some of your weight with us sometimes. We can be strong together."
He huffs out a laugh, "I don't need friends. I need more alcohol."
He doesn't mean to be such a dick but he's just so fucked up. He'd been alone for so long, adjusting to clan life had been one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.
No matter how thankful he is for them, he didn't feel like he could ever find the words to properly express himself. Instead, he'd rather internalize his trauma by himself till the point of denial. Pushing down the issues inside of himself and numbing the pain so they couldn't tear him apart and make him a burden.
Allison gives him a pointed look,
"Fine! God, It's hard for me to... let people in..." He sighs out a frustrated breath, still not sure why he feels this way but at least he's trying. Allison's smile widens,
"Yes, Stiles! That's it! See, it's not so hard expressing your emotions." He rolls his eyes,
"Don't worry, the odds of me remembering this conversation are slim." He said he was trying, not that he was any less of a dick. Allison laughs out loud, shaking her head at him.
"Ok well, will you remember to turn off the water when you're done?" Stiles nods,
"Yes, mom…"
"Good." With that Allison leaves him a towel and kisses him goodnight, closing the door behind her. He waits a moment for Allison to walk out of his room before hopping off the counter, walking out and into his closet to retrieve his glass whiskey bottle.
Gulping mouthfuls of it down, he walks back and turns the water off, and Jacuzzis jets on as he gets undressed and slides into his soapy bubble bath. Sighing deeply, he lets his muscles relax, closing his eyes, he meditates, reaching deep down into his black soul, Stiles searches for his switch. Nothing. He opens his eyes as Allison's words playback in his head,
"Love, loss, anger, desire, it can all blur into one urge. Hunger." He thinks back to earlier that night to the Succubus and how her magic affected his body, Lust, Desire, Anger…Hunger . Damn it! Why couldn't he just be some lame ass human being, with normal fucking emotions!
Scot's hurt voice echos through his mind. He could understand why Scott was disappointed in him, after all being fucked up in the head wasn't necessarily the best brotherly material. He knew his father wouldn't be proud of the way he was acting around Scott. He was just a failure at life but hey, at least none of this was news to anyone.
His last moment with his dad standing just a few feet away from him, holding his shotgun, ready to shoot replays in his mind.
If only he had stayed. He wouldn't be here. He'd have died that night.
He swallows hard, his shaking hand lifting the bottle to his lips, eyes tearing as he takes another gulp of his whiskey.
Pain. Pain was all Stiles feels right now.
Tears roll down his cheeks and he takes another gulp.
Humanity. Humanity was a Vampire's greatest weakness.
He closes his eyes and drinks some more, gulping the rest of the whiskey down. Stiles was a Vampire. He was a predator. He enjoyed the hunt, the feed, the kill …
And just like that Stiles felt nothing.
Laughing, he throws the empty whiskey glass bottle on the ground, watching as it breaks into hundreds of shards all over the floor. Settling into his bath with a huge fucking grin on his face because what most people fail to understand is the fact there is a liberty, a freedom, in the abyss of complete emotional shutdown.
Stiles doesn't remember how he got into bed that night but he has a vivid dream.
He's standing in the remains of a burned down house, in a huge backyard, he runs, the house falling apart around him. He runs into the safety of the woods, turning to watch the house aflame as it crumples down completely. Panting and scared he runs away through the forest. But Stiles couldn't feel the cold relief on his skin from the snow still cascading down lightly all around him.
He drops down on his knees in exhaustion, feeling as if he was burning from within. He looks up to see a giant tree blocking his view of the night sky. He stands, instinctively lifting the Triskele pendant and putting it into the tree's bark, watching as it dissolves into it as if the Triskele was carved into the bark itself.
He places his hand over it, shaky fingers tracing one of its swirls before he's feeling an electrifying current run throughout his body.
It's so strong, Stiles wakes up. Gasping, already broken out in a cold sweat, his entire body shakes from the impact. Heart racing he gets up, getting dressed in his hunter's gear and red hoodie, he grabs the pendant off his desk, and as he's reaching for the French doors the doors to his bedroom rip open.
"Stiles wait!" Derek yells. He lets out a manic laugh, jumping down from his balcony and running off into the woods.