"There is a sickness in Beacon Hills, folks," started the charismatic blond on the local news station, "Two people have been found dead in their homes over the span of two weeks in May, while two others have been fighting for their lives in the hospital. This mystery illness that seems to only be plaguing Beacon Hills is becoming a scientific phenomenon among the doctors and nurses in our Hospital. So, watch out for symptoms of fatigue, hyper-aggressiveness, hallucinations, and extreme happiness. These symptoms may seem odd and overlap with many other illnesses, but Doctors in Beacon Hills urge you to remain aware of these symptoms and try to take all the normal preventative measures." He continued smiling, looking to his Co-Anchor who nodded in agreement. They moved on to lighter news avoiding any grimey details of the illness that was spreading.
"They're already releasing information about the victims," the Sheriff huffed in annoyance. Noah hadn't expected the station to let that happen so soon, but the Public Health division could supersede their gag orders. "Tell me what you know about these people's illness, I'll pass it on to them."
"It's as if their bodies have given up and they're wasting away. No amount of food through intubation or nutritional IV fluid seems to help their condition. We didn't find any toxins in their system - if anything, they all have an overproduction of the dopamine hormone," Melissa sighed. "The man that came in four weeks ago, the first 'victim,' slipped into a coma today." She handed Noah copies of the medical records of the two victims that were still alive, sliding them across the table with a delicate hand.
Noah took them from her hand and slipped them with his police files. He leaned back in the metal chair, looking around the nurse's lounge with a suffering sigh. "Does Scott know anything?" he asked finally - his son hadn't told him anything. But his son would need to be around for Noah to even ask him if he had any ideas. Stiles had been acting weirder than normal, and he hadn't seen the regular suspects milling around their home because Stiles had moved out one night during one of Noah's night shifts. Of course, Noah would still take it to Stiles (if he could be found), but he had to make sure Melissa took it to Scott first.
"He hasn't asked me anything. I'm guessing they aren't connecting these sick people," Melissa hummed and slowly stood up. "I got to get back to work. Keep this from Chris until the pack knows and makes a plan."
Noah nodded, knowing how Chris was sometimes despite the code of conduct he followed as a hunter. He stood as well, holding the files close to his body as he walked out of the lounge with her "If you learn anything new, please let me know as soon as you can, Melissa." With a final nod, Noah walked away from her, heading home to try and see if he could get any information from his son (if he was there).
The case was a strange one, to say the least - the first two men that were found dead were discovered two weeks apart, both naked in their beds. A detective had suggested there had been a struggle, but it looked more like a passionate, one-time love affair based on the fact that larger surfaces had been completely cleared off with broken elements on the floor, condoms thrown everywhere, and the blankets eschew on the bed. The place had been wiped clean of prints, which was the Sheriff's main clue that the death had probably been intentional. This was strengthened by the later additions of a sick man and woman suffering from the same symptoms, both with a high level of dopamine in their systems never returning to normal levels. The dead men didn't have the medical documentation of their hormone changes but seemed to overdose on a hormone imbalance of dopamine. This brought Noah to his son, who hadn't asked him one single question about the case.
The fact that Stiles wasn't all over Noah for information was the strangest part of this situation. Stiles had been eerily absent from everyone's lives since the beginning of May, and with it presently being July and after graduation, he wasn't sure if anyone had seen him. Noah had seen everyone else from Stiles' "old crew" at this point trying to figure out this "epidemic." He didn't ask about Stiles - it was pointless. Sometimes he saw Stiles' Jeep around town, but Stiles was never near his car when Noah looked for him.
Scott took in the information that his mother gave him, wishing that Stiles was around to look at the actual papers. As much as Scott understood what she had been saying and could read the information given, Stiles was perfect at combining all the information, at finding patterns and clues. It was what got them through everything the past couple of years, but after graduation, Stiles went completely MIA. Scott currently sat in front of the pack (sans: Stiles) for their weekly meeting, hands pressed together, touching his lips, leaning forward. The pack waiting for him to finally break the silence the pack fell into when Scott took his first anxious breath.
"So, I talked to Deaton, I've talked to my mom who talked to Sheriff Stilinski… Speaking of, has anyone fucking seen Stiles?" Scott asked, getting annoyed at this point by the lack of a pack member. He watched as everyone shook their heads or remained silent, then looking to Derek, who was supposed to keep tabs on Stiles because he was the only one that seemed to know where he was at all times since they met two and a half years ago. All Derek could do was sigh in defeat as he leaned back, shaking his head. It was one of those moments where Scott felt like Derek was holding something back, that he knew something and wasn't telling Scott.
"Anyway, I got all the information I could after speaking with Deaton. We're looking for a sex daemon, or so to speak," Scott said in short. He waited for the giggles the others had to subside. It was ridiculous, Scott could admit that much, that a succubus or incubus was in Beacon Hills, that they existed.
"Succubus or Incubus?" Derek asked, leaning forward, intrigued at this revelation. He had always thought they were a myth even with him and his kind actually existing, he hadn't been sure that daemons were real.
"It would have to be both," Lydia chimed in quickly, eyes going hazy as she remembered reading from Stiles' translated bestiary.
"Why both?" Scott asked, frowning. Deaton had said it was only one, so this went against the Druid's prediction unless Lydia knew something Deaton didn't.
"Because Incubi only go after women, and there's only one woman in the hospital. The other three were men, so there has to be a pair of them," Lydia spoke as if this were apparent. The group looked at Lydia, unsure what to do with the information provided, while Scott chewed on his cheek, humming softly to himself.
"Honestly, I felt like Deaton was holding information back from me. I asked him if he knew any families of Beacon Hills that… fit the bill, and he really didn't give me anything," Scott huffed, annoyed that people were keeping things from him and his best friend was god knows where.
"Then we figure out where the people met these daemons, and we each go there and track them. Scott, did Deaton give you anything that would help us not be under their influence?" Derek planned and asked. It was best to be fully prepared and have a plan when going after daemons, especially daemons they knew nothing about, daemons that could alter perceptions and entrap them.
"The men were last seen at the Jungle, and the woman at a bar down the street called Lilac Anchor," Scott said, crossing his arms. "We're basically going into this blind, and we don't know what they look like, or if it is two people. There's nothing to stop their influence, but we're less likely to die since we have a healing factor," Scott explained. He really hoped their ability to heal faster would save them. Scott wasn't actually sure - it was only a guess, and Deaton barely provided enough information for Scott to interpret.
Derek and the team nodded their heads in understanding, though Lydia's head tilted as she thought about all that was said. She would need to find a Latin bestiary and expand her research based on the non-adapted version, which meant getting Allison to give her the book in her dad's library without telling her what she was looking for. The pack started keeping Allison out of the meetings when things like this came up because she and her father were strict to their code, despite their new code focusing on protecting those who needed protecting. Lydia had a feeling (and she knew others felt this too) that whoever was doing this either didn't know or couldn't figure out how to control themselves.
"It's Saturday, and they usually hunt every two weeks. There wasn't an attack last night luckily, so we're hopefully going to find them tonight. Derek and Lydia, head to the Jungle. The girls should be able to make sure you don't get trapped. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, go to Lilac Anchor where the woman had been. I'll walk the blocks in that area in case they find new places to target," Scott commanded, standing up. He stretched his body out and flashed his red eyes in determination, letting it known his commands were final.
"Alright, I'll see you all out there. Don't get distracted, and if you feel yourself being pulled, tell the others with you. We don't need anyone in the hospital. This is an information mission," Derek added seriously, watching Scott leave his loft. Clearly the other had another mission (look for Stiles, that was always their mission). Derek watched the others stand, Isaac going to his own room in the loft to change. Boyd and Erica left the loft as well to get themselves ready for the night while Lydia stayed seated, looking through Derek intently. Derek looked up to Isaac's room and back to Lydia, waiting for her eyes to refocus on him.
"Go ahead, what did you see?"
"Him… He's going to end up in the hospital… I don't know if we can prevent it, but he's not going to make it to the bar tonight," Lydia spoke cryptically, looking down at her delicately manicured hands - maroon-colored nail polish over acrylics. She could never keep her real nails long enough with all of the fighting and unintentional self-inflicted wounds.
"Are you suggesting that Stiles is who we're after?" Derek growled and stood up. He didn't know why the other had disappeared, but to suggest that Stiles was a killer seemed impossible.
"He's killed people before, Derek. He liked it. Nogitsune or not, we all felt how he was after it was over. Disappointment radiated from him. We also have known that he's something, why couldn't that something be this thing we're after?" Lydia asked, remaining calm, staying in the lounge chair she bought for herself to be put in Derek's loft. Her nails calmly raked through her strawberry blonde hair, making sure every strand was straight and perfect, waiting for Derek's thick brain to finally understand what she was trying to say.
Derek was silent for a long moment, staring her down his own red eyes flashing as he tried to control himself. She only gave him a calm look, pursing her lips before she stood and walked past him. "I'll see you at the Jungle at 11 pm. You better change into something nicer," she tsked, looking him up and down, her heels clicking as she walked out. Derek looked down at himself and rolled his eyes but ultimately took her advice, going up the spiral stairs to get ready for the night, to get ready for Stiles.
Mountains of research had piled up in his small studio apartment to the point that there was nowhere to walk without tripping over printouts of webpages or forums. This was the apartment he got after killing the second person. Stiles couldn't stand being in the house with his dad who started working on a case that would eventually lead to him. He felt like he was being watched and studied, like he was withholding information from his dad because he refused to answer questions or do "supernatural research" for him. It was why Stiles ended up avoiding the pack after that first full moon in May. He knew he smelled different, not to mention his body and the way he expressively presented himself around other people was changing. It wasn't worth trying to explain, it wasn't worth putting others and himself in danger. Stiles had already died once, and as a result, ended up killing an undisclosed amount of people. Stiles did not want to kill any more people - he knew he'd have no way to talk himself out of it this time around. The Argents were kind, but not kind enough to believe that the third person had also been a mistake. They might forgive him for making people sick as long as he could help them find a way to fix their sickness.
Stiles stared at the calendar on his wall, regarding the dates he had marked. His birthday, April 8th, had been two days past a full moon, which made sense as to why the first time he felt that hunger was the beginning of May, a whole month past his 18th birthday. Stiles had met his first victim while dancing at The Jungle that first full moon. He remembered every detail of the man's body and the way he smelled of pure lust while he watched Stiles dance. It heightened Stiles' awareness of his own hunger, his own lust, his own need to be taken and given what he needed. So, Stiles gave in, went home with the man, and suffice to say they were very out of control. They desecrated his entire home, and when they were done… Stiles blacked out and woke up in his own bed the next afternoon. He couldn't figure it out, - what the man's name was, where he lived. It was like specific details were removed from his memory. He had stopped having memory problems a long time ago (if you call a long time ago senior year of high school).
Stiles had been with the second man on the New Moon of May. It was the same story as the last. Stiles had been watched, drawn to the other man, they couldn't resist each other. They ended up at the man's place, destroying it while Stiles absorbed all the energy… the life force… the essence of the man. Then he woke up alone in his own bed, confused as he had been the first time. A week later, both men's faces were plastered all over the local news. Stiles at least remembered their faces, and he felt a pit growing in his stomach, knowing their deaths were related to him. He began his research and his search for a new home. He had just graduated and already had a job he had been saving up with, so he rented a small studio on the shittiest part of Beacon Hills and began pinning things to his walls like a loon. That was when he realized that maybe as long as he didn't have complete coitus, just a blow job here and there, he might be able to survive and not kill anyone.
Unfortunately, Stiles unknowing "starved" himself when he was engrossed in his research and ended up going overboard on taking what he wanted. His third "victim," who he sucked off in the bathroom of The Jungle, ended up in the hospital a few days later after passing out from extreme exhaustion from an aggressive outburst at work. The fourth was a woman he found right before the new moon, figuring it was better to keep away from moments in time that might make him stronger (if his experience with several different supernaturals told him anything). It was at a dingy bar he went to after work, figuring it was best to stay away from men - maybe women were safe and would satiate him without falling prey to whatever illness he gave them. He had been so needy that he and the woman ended up at her place, less destructive, though Stiles still gave in to her wanting to have sex. He resisted her want for more rounds and actually remembered going home and falling asleep in his bed. She ended up having what they thought was a schizophrenic breakdown in public before passing out like the man Stiles had met in the bathroom. Neither of them ever woke up in the hospital, so none of the doctors that examined them were able to ask symptoms or determine a cause as far as Stiles knew.
Stiles tried to go longer this time... that was a mistake. He had gone three weeks without "feeding," that's what Stiles called what he did, but the hunger was growing stronger. He ached and fell to the floor on his hands and knees, shaking, trying to control himself. It overtook him, and his eyes shot open, normal dark hazel eyes glowed green, overtaking that deep hazelnut Stiles' eyes were known for. He slowly stood and shivered softly as the hunger filled his body, the want, and the need. The succubus walked up to the mirror and scoffed, turning back and forth to examine the sweatpants and t-shirt he wore. He tugged everything off and went to the large travel trunk he had in his room to hide his work clothes. The Succubus pulled out tight black jeans, torn up to expose skin, fishnets, and a black mesh crop top. He tugged the ensemble on, looking himself over again, smirking as he fussed with his hair until all the curls popped out more. Stiles had let his hair grow since the change. It was hitting his ear lobes now, the curls that were sometimes seen when his hair was shorter had come out full force. He touched his plump lips and sighed softly at the view of himself, touching different parts of his body until he realized he probably needed shoes since he was going to be walking around on foot.
The succuba was out the door once he was done admiring himself, going down to the garage and pulling out from underneath the building. This was one of the major reasons he chose this building - his father had been trying to find him by his car, and no one could find him if he car was underneath the building he lived in. He drove to the regular block he found his meals at and pulled his car into a back alley, parking behind an abandoned restaurant. He had no idea anyone had figured him out, let alone that Lydia had a premonition about him and the man he would find. The succubus quickly got out of his Jeep and began moving out onto the streets.
The succubus pulled out his phone and looked at the time: 11:30 pm. He was out later than expected, but that just meant more options, more people milling about a faster meal. He was really hungry, and men seemed to work better than women, so he turned to head towards The Jungle. The young man looked around, taking in the air around the people on the street, smelling one of anger and sexual repression - the most interesting of all. He looked for the person as he walked, eyes roaming away from where he was walking until he ended up running into that man. The young brunette stared up at the large, burly blond man, his own mouth making an 'o' shape, feeling himself practically salivating at the sight. The succuba breathed him in and placed his hands on the large man, feeling the expanse of his chest and muscles and the emotions that ran through him. It was clear he wanted the small twinkish man, but that more powerful repression inside of the man was the most resistant.
"Why don't we find a nice alleyway?" the brunette purred up at the man, his body looking inviting and wanton. It was easier to try to seduce the way most do rather than use unnecessary energy that he didn't really have to get the meal he wanted.
The man gagged and pushed the brunette away, unable to get the young man off of him as the succubus had a vice grip on his arm. "Get away from me, faggot," the blond man growled as he tried to remove the small, lean hands from his body.
The succubus couldn't control himself and began releasing what could only be described as sexual energy into the man and pushed more pheromones around them. The pheromones were a lot stronger than what normally surrounded him as a succubus. He felt the other man become pliable under his hands. The other's will resisted while his body followed the succuba to an alley just around the corner. The succubus pressed the man up against the wall, claiming his lips hard and desperate, pulling what essence he could from the other through their rough kiss. He made sure to continue skin to skin contact as he got the other's pants undone. The succuba looked back up, one hand on the man's member and fell to his knees slowly, only stroking the other's cock.
"Can I help you with that?" the succubus purred softly - his voice had a musical sound to it. He was absolutely pleased he found such a passionate man (even if that passion was hate-based) who was turned on without the succubus' assistance. All the man gave was a lame nod and the young man went to work quickly. The succuba wrapped his mouth around the head of the member and began teasing the other's slit, maintaining eye contact. Soon he was bobbing his head down the man's member, feeling the weight, and moved his hands so he was holding the blond's waist, swallowing the cock to the back of his throat. He could feel the energy coming out of the man and into his body, moaning in delight as his hunger subsided, control coming back, and power flowing back through his veins.
The succubus had removed his hands only for a moment to pull off briefly and catch a breath, examining the member in front of him. Stiles' mouth was open wide, saliva dripping down his plump lips. Slowly, dark hazel eyes focused on the heavy cock in front of him and traveled up the muscular body, small pants leaving his mouth in the cold air.
Once Stiles' eyes landed on the man's arm cocked back and the blond's snarling face, he gasped out an 'Oh fuck' as a fist connected with his face. Stiles' head smacked down on the concrete, his vision spotting black and white. He could hear the guy shuffling, putting his member back into his pants, and Stiles tried to make a noise or push himself up despite not being able to see or feel anything. Everything was foggy, and before Stiles could make any progress in getting away, a foot repeatedly rammed into his stomach. His vision came back with a bright blast as his eyes found the illuminated streets.
Stiles tried crawling away again now that he had his bearings, tried getting up, but he was grabbed by his shirt and felt a fist to his face again. Again and again, what felt like a stone landed on his face over and over, blood coughed up with no reprieve from the man's fist. He could hear slurs being yelled at him through the ringing in his ears, his mesh-shirt torn by the force of the man's hands keeping him upright, and he hit the ground once the shirt was completely ripped through. The blond man was back to kicking, grabbing Stiles by his long hair to hold him up enough until the force of the final kick sent him into a wall. Stiles could only hear hot breaths, a disgusted sound, the feel of spit on his face, and the word 'faggot' before feet finally walked away from him.