If You're Going Through Hell
Chapter 3: Welcome to Hell
"Welcome to Hell, Sourwolf." The Creature spoke with just a hint of humor. Its voice was unlike anything Derek had heard before, but the nickname was enough to stop him from immediately fleeing. Only one person has ever called me that, he thought to himself, but how…
"Come on, we have to get out of here before anyone notices your arrival," the creature, no, demon, definitely demon, said as it grabbed hold of his arm with all of the unnatural strength Derek had expected it to have and began dragging him along like a toy behind him towards one of the rock walls nearby.
"What are you?" he asked, finally getting his feet back under him so he could jog along instead.
"In a minute, Derek, ok? First, we get out of the open." With that, the demon picked up the pace, and Derek was forced to give all of his attention to not falling over the jagged terrain while trying to keep up. He faltered once more when he heard an unearthly screech from off in the distance, followed by what sounded like several children crying in pain, but the thing dragging him along paid it no attention and instead remained focused on its destination. The only problem, from Derek's point of view, was that their destination looked to be nothing more than the towering wall of the cave.
"Hey, wait a minute!" he cried out, uselessly tugging at the muscled hand still wrapped tightly around his arm. "Just stop for one second!"
The demon did, so quickly that Derek would have crashed into him if the creature hadn't forcibly stopped him as well. "Derek, we don't have time for this," it said, glancing around over his shoulder in the direction of the screeches and screams that were still building in intensity.
"Where are you taking me?" Derek asked, trying not to let the fear and dread taking over his mind creep into his voice.
"To a place where we can talk safely. Just trust me, for like five more seconds, and I'll explain everything." The demon didn't bother waiting for a response, turning instead to continue running straight towards the wall with Derek in tow once more. Derek didn't know what to think. A minute ago he'd felt like he was being torn apart, crushed, set aflame, and who knows what all else. Before that, he'd been peacefully listening to Lydia and Stiles chanting in some foreign language. Yesterday he'd been in the woods, trying to reach the Nemeton. It was all so confusing, he hadn't had time to process everything that had turned his life upside down a hundred times over. And now he was being dragged by a demon, in Hell, and if they didn't stop soon they were going to run right into a solid rock wall.
"Whoa, you need to stop before we hit…" it was too late, and so Derek did the only thing he could think of and shut his eyes, bracing for the painful impact he knew was coming. Except, the pain didn't come, the bone-crunching slam against rock didn't happen. He tentatively opened his eyes again, shocked to find that they were now in a dimly lit corridor, surrounded by stone walls and torches, like something out of a medieval castle. The demon never slowed or wavered as Derek turned to look back and saw what looked like an equally solid stone wall growing smaller in the direction they had just come from. "What just happened?" he called to the creature still dragging him along.
"Not yet, almost there, then we can talk," was the only reply it gave. Derek huffed slightly but remained silent, trying to make sense of what had just happened. After another minute or two of running down the corridor, they reached the end – a very solid looking, stone end. Derek was prepared this time and refused to close his eyes as the demon ran straight at the wall. His body reflexively tensed for the impact he still expected, but instead he let out a gasp as they ran directly through it, the wall dissolving around them, and then emerged in a room of some kind. It was pitch black and impossible to see, even with his werewolf night vision, but he could sense it wasn't huge. The air smelled of sweat and chemicals, vaguely familiar but just out of reach of his memory.
"Ok, we're here," he heard the demon say some distance to his left. He must have missed when it let go of his arm. I need to calm down and focus, this is getting ridiculous, and dangerous. "Give me one sec to get the lights and then we'll talk."
About three seconds later, the room was suddenly flooded with bright, fluorescent light and Derek was forced to close his eyes, blinded by the sudden intrusion. It took him a moment to recover, blinking away the sting as his sight adjusted. Being able to see just made things all the more confusing though. As he stared around the room, he realized he was in a classroom. How did we end up in the high school? Am I dreaming?
The demon snorted at him in laughter, "No you're not dreaming, Sourwolf." In the bright, artificial light the demon looked even more terrifying, if that was possible. It could obviously tear him to pieces without breaking a sweat if it wanted to. Derek tried not to look frightened, but he must have failed because the creature noticeably cringed at his expression.
"Sorry, I know I must look awful with the whole 'devil-chic' thing going on. Let me fix that." The demon stared at Derek like it was contemplating how best to murder him, and then slowly it began to shrink. Derek stared on in wonder as the wings on its back and horns on its head began to retract, disappearing altogether as the creature came to be slightly shorter than himself. The skin began to lighten and hair began to grow on its head as the muscles covering the torso and legs gave way to very human, very familiar clothing. Derek's jaw fell open as the transformation completed and, standing before him, was a grinning Stiles.
"Is this better?" he asked, voice having grown much softer and higher and oh wow, it is him! "Hey, Silentwolf, you still with me over there?"
Derek finally came back to his senses and closed his open jaw, swallowing hard as he did so. "Stiles, is that really you?" He was afraid to ask, afraid of what the answer might be, but he had to know.
"Yeah, Derek, it's really, truly me," Stiles said with a smirk and a hunch of his shoulders that no one would ever have been able to imitate.
"Stiles!" Derek cried out, his own face breaking out into a grin as he pounced on the young man in front of him, managing to wrap him in a crushing hug as they toppled over onto the ground, landing with Derek's back against the floor and Stiles pulled as tightly as possible against his chest. He didn't care how awkward it would look, in this moment the only thing that mattered was touching him, smelling him, knowing without a doubt that the boy who had tried to drive him insane in life and nearly succeeded in doing so in death was there with him. He began to laugh and shake and no, I'm not crying, I just have something in my eye, and soon Stiles was doing the same.
"I've missed you so much Derek," he said as they both began to calm down, breathing deeply and relaxing into one another. Stiles had landed with his head against Derek's chest, so he had to lift it slightly to look at Derek properly, mischievous gleam in his eye, "You know, this reminds me of that time we were in the Sheriff's station and the Kanima paralyzed us so that I ended up falling on top of you." They had always called it the Kanima instead of Jackson after he became a true werewolf to show they understood he wasn't at fault for what had happened. Jackson never said anything, but they could tell how much he appreciated the differentiation, and this proved to Derek, perhaps more than anything else, that this was truly the real Stiles in front of him. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but it's a lot nicer when I have control of my body and feeling in more than just my head and neck. You can be my sweet-and-sourwolf."
"Stiles!" Derek exclaimed, finally coming out of his reverie and catching on to what the young man was saying. He quickly pushed him off and the young man rolled over beside him, laughing at the situation. "You're ridiculous!"
"Maybe," he replied, giggling as he propped himself up on one elbow, "but it's true. And hey, it's not like you can make any empty threats about ripping my throat out with your teeth anymore. I'm already dead." He said it with nonchalance, whimsically, but that last statement brought Derek back to the crushing and terrible reality of the situation. Stiles noticed the change in his posture, his own smile fading as he pulled himself up the rest of the way into a sitting position, leaning against the cabinets behind him as Derek mirrored him and leaned against a workstation.
"Yeah, I know," Stiles continued, "Terrible comebacks. There isn't much to joke about down here, and I haven't had anyone other than George Deaton to really talk with in months. Sorry about that."
"You're sorry?" Derek was dumbfounded, "Stiles, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should be sorry. I…I let you die. I was right there and I did nothing…"
Stiles was up instantly, far faster than he had been in life, quickly putting a finger up against Derek's lips, effectively silencing him. "Hey, shh, none of that," he said softly, "It's not your fault that I died. I knew you would think that way; it was one of my biggest regrets, that I didn't get to talk to you and Scott before I died and make sure you guys didn't go off blaming yourselves. That's actually how all of this started."
"How all what started?" Derek asked after a moment. Stiles relaxed a little, removing his finger from Derek's lips and brushing it lightly against his cheek before letting it fall to his side.
"Our quest," he said simply. "When I started talking with Grandpa Deaton, my goal had been to get a message to you guys who were still alive. I figured there had to be a way to contact the living somehow, it happens in movies all the time. I wanted to tell you not to blame yourself, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it or stop it. We were ambushed in the middle of the woods for goodness sake. As far as that goes, I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did. If you and Scott and the others hadn't done such a good job of protecting me I would have died years ago. None of this is your fault Derek, and I need you to understand and accept that."
"But Stiles…"
"No buts, Derek."
"Buttt," Derek emphasized it, speaking over the other's protestations, "we didn't protect you. I didn't protect you. I could have given you the bite, made you a werewolf back when I was an alpha. Or Scott could have. You would have healed from that arrow like it was nothing."
"And what good would that have done the pack?" Stiles seemed incredulous at the thought; Derek was equally confused by his response, "You don't seriously believe I never thought about becoming a werewolf? You guys are freaking awesome with your super strength and speed and all that. You can't honestly think I didn't get jealous of you and Scott or want what you guys had."
"Then why didn't you ask for it? I would have bit you. Scott would have bit you. You would have made a great werewolf."
Stiles took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say what was coming next. Derek braced himself much like he had for the impact into solid wall he'd been expecting earlier. "That wasn't the role I was meant to play. I know I would have been a great werewolf, probably a lot better than any of the rest of you," he said it cheekily, but Derek could tell he also meant what he was saying, "But you guys needed me as a human. I could do things for you all as a human that I would not have been able to do as a wolf. I was your emissary, even though I don't think you or Scott actually realized that. That's why I turned down the bite."
Derek looked at the young man in front of him, realizing for the first time just how much strength must lie under that carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude. Then the last part of what Stiles said caught up to him. "What do you mean you turned down the bite?" His eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.
"Oh, yeah, I guess I never told you about that," Stiles said sheepishly, taken aback. Derek growled slightly, his way of indicating Stiles should continue. "Ok, ok. It was back when Peter was still an alpha and Scott had no idea what he was doing. You had been captured by Kate and we were all trying to figure out where you were, which led to me tracking Scott's phone because we thought you might have it. Anyways, once we figured out where you were, Peter-Creeper was getting ready to go off to rescue you, maybe, but he stopped and said that he wanted to reward me for helping him. He offered to bite me and turn me into a werewolf, said it could have just as easily been me instead of Scott that first night in the woods. He made some good arguments, even if he was still really delusional and freaky. But I turned him down. I told him I didn't want it. And he told me I was lying. He was right, too, he just didn't know why, and I didn't explain it to him."
"So why didn't you let him bite you?" Derek asked, breaking the silence that had settled.
"Because I knew, even then, that that wasn't my path," Stiles said with a shrug, "You were a werewolf, Scott was a werewolf, Allison was a hunter, and life was about to get 10,000 times crazier, but as much as I wanted it, I knew I needed to stay human. I knew that you guys needed me to stay human. I envied you guys. I wanted so much to be like you, to really be a part of the pack. And I admit that I got pretty jealous when practically everyone around me started turning into werewolves and banshees and kitsunes and who knows what all else…"
"But you never gave in and took the bite," Derek finished, looking at the boy with wonder.
"Obviously," he said, smirking.
"Were you ever tempted to?" Derek asked, "Like, really tempted, more than just an 'I would like that' kind of thing?" He grimaced at the stupidity of his words, but he had to know.
Stiles contemplated the question for a moment before answering. "Hmm, once," he said, "when the Nogitsune was tricking us into thinking I was developing dementia like my mom. It was the only time Scott specifically offered to bite me. I was getting ready to have a brain scan done, and he told me that if I was sick, he would do something to cure me. I didn't really say anything, but I think we both knew that I would accept it if it came down to it. We figured out it was a trick and things went crazy with trying to get rid of the Nogitsune and it never really came back up after that. Point is, it was my choice to remain human, and I knew what I was doing when I made that choice over and over again for years. It's not your fault that I died."
Derek's face must have betrayed the skepticism still in his mind, because Stiles quickly continued. "Look at me, Derek. I know you can't hear my heartbeat any more, so you're going to have to do this the human way and know I'm telling the truth by my body language. It…is…not…your…fault. It's not your fault, or Scott's, or Lydia's, or mine as far as that goes. The only person to blame for me dying is some idiot in the woods with a bow and arrow who believed the lies and hate that Gerard and Monroe spread about the Supernatural world. They are to blame, no one else."
Derek acquiesced, perhaps not entirely convinced but also not quite as guilt ridden. He gave the smallest hint of a smile, "Well, at least we're bringing you back to life, so I guess in the end it won't matter."
"Yeah…exactly," Stiles said, grinning in return, though the grin didn't completely reach his eyes. Derek was too distracted looking back around the room again to pay it too much attention.
"So, um, you never answered my question before. Where exactly are we?" Derek turned back to face Stiles once more.
"We're in Hell!" he said gleefully, "Or rather, it's more like we're in Limbo. I don't fully understand it myself, but from what I can gather we're in the first stage of the afterlife. Everyone comes here when they die, or at least a version of here – there's one for each Nemeton up on earth. Sometimes people spend a long time here, years, decades, centuries. Others are here only briefly. Eventually, they move on. But no one I've talked to here knows what they move on to. Some say everyone eventually goes to Heaven. Others say they go to Heaven or Hell based on 'reasons.' And others think they just cease to exist, are at peace. Or get reincarnated. Basically no one knows what happens when you leave here, just that it happens eventually."
"Ok," Derek said slowly, dragging it out while he tried to take it all in. "Why, then, are we in a high school chemistry classroom?"
Stiles had a smug expression on his face as he answered. "We're in Mr. Harris' classroom, which was basically hell on earth anyway, so I think it makes perfect sense that it would be down here." He tried to say it with a straight face, but lost it about half way through. "Ok, ok, so, in all seriousness, Hell, or Limbo I guess, is a big place. Like, really big. I've only barely made a dent in it and I've been exploring for three or four months. The only thing I can really tell you is that it is full of surprises and mysteries. Some spots are actually really nice and pleasant. Others are Hell," he turned his gaze over the classroom for a minute before returning his attention to Derek, "and different places can look different to different people. What you see may not be what I see or what someone else sees. It gets confusing. Definitely no splitting up while you are here, because we'll never find each other again except maybe by accident."
"Alright then," Derek replied, agreeing with Stiles' final statement though not knowing what to do with the rest of his speech. All I know for sure is that I am never letting you out of my sight again. "So, what's the plan, Stiles?"
"I'm glad you asked," Stiles said, a devilish glint to his tone, "we need to find the others. They are, I assume, scattered around Limbo. When someone dies, their spirit arrives down here at the Great Gates. Sometimes one of the demons drags them off. Others are left alone to wander and do what they want. And there doesn't seem to be any pattern to who the demons take or where they take them to, at least not that I can tell."
"Speaking of demons," Derek interrupted, "are you ever going to explain that part? You were a giant monster when I got here. And what gates are you talking about, because there weren't any gates that I could see before you dragged me through a solid stone wall. And how did that work anyway? We shouldn't be able to walk through walls, should we?"
Stiles held up a hand to silence him. "You didn't die, Lydia and I brought you here. Therefore, you didn't enter through the Spirit Gates, you arrived at the rune circle I drew. We're pretty far from the Gates because I didn't want anyone to see how you got here. It would be really bad if people down here started finding out that someone alive was here with us. Trust me on that." Stiles had a rare look of determination on his face, forcing Derek to suppress the next round of questions forming in his head.
"As for the walls, we didn't actually walk through them. Part of the, 'charm,' of this place is that not everything is as it seems. There are lots of hidden passages, paths that lead to basically nowhere, tons of ways to get lost or confused, and anything else you can think of. I found this one by accident two months ago, and so far no one else has come through here since, so I've turned it into my hideout. I couldn't get my runes to work properly in the classroom though, so I had to go out to the cave to bring you here." Stiles paused for a moment, as though thinking about what to say next.
"Now, as I said yesterday when I was talking with you and Lydia, I stole the body of a demon. It's actually the demon that was guarding me. Wait," Stiles continued talking over Derek's attempt at interrupting him, "like I was saying earlier, some people get dragged off by the demons when they arrive here while others roam free. I was one that got dragged off, to an empty cave. I spent my first month in Hell," He gave the word all the disdain he could muster, "with nothing but that monster looming over me for company. It about drove me insane, not having anyone to talk to and not knowing what was going on. But I eventually got it to start talking with me, telling me about this place and about itself. I learned enough from it to figure out how to overpower it, which I then did."
"You…how…what?" Derek was at a loss for words.
"Aw, my splutterwolf is back," Stiles laughed, "so, the demons are powerful creatures, probably worse than just about anything we faced in life. But they are susceptible to some of the Druidic practices. It took me the better part of two weeks, but I slowly weakened it with spells and things that Deaton, our Deaton not Grandpa Deaton since I hadn't met him yet, had taught me. I had to go slow so it wouldn't realize what I was doing, but once I got it cornered, I was able to bind myself to it and take over its body."
"Does that mean it's still inside you?" Derek asked, beginning to worry.
"Possibly. The demons are physically strong, but there isn't much going on upstairs. I was able to subdue its consciousness pretty quickly and it hasn't reappeared since. Now it's more like I'm one of you guys, a shapeshifter. I have to really concentrate, but I can switch back and forth from my body to the demon's body. I'm not the biggest fan of being a demon, but it does make it easy to blend in around here."
"Now, as for the plan, it's pretty simple. We just have to search Limbo until we find our friends, then we send them back." Stiles said it with a very matter-of-fact tone, but Derek snorted derisively.
"Is that all we have to do? Search all of Limbo for our friends? Didn't you say you've been exploring for months and have barely made a dent in it?"
"Well, yeah. But I also had to learn a lot about this place. It'll go quicker now that I have a better understanding of it, and that you're here," Stiles said, batting his eyelashes at Derek convincingly.
"You're right about the second part at least," Derek said, an idea coming to him, "I can find them all really quickly." He took a deep breath, preparing to howl in order to signal the other wolves. Stiles watched him, first in confusion, then in horror, before jumping inhumanly fast back on top of Derek, hand clamped firmly around his mouth.
"Are you insane?" he asked, incredulously, "you can't just howl your location down here. Do you know how many supernatural creatures are here? Or how many of our previous enemies are here? And don't forget the demons. It took me weeks to subdue one. We would be no match for a whole horde of them. Telling all of them you're here would be tantamount to suicide!"
Derek looked up at Stiles, who now had him pinned down on the floor once more, with exasperation, eventually biting the hand still covering his mouth lightly in order to get him to let up. The hand was removed, but Stiles remained firmly positioned on top of him as though waiting for him to try again. "Ok, I get the point, howling is a bad idea. So, what do you propose we do instead?"
Stiles relented, standing up and offering a hand to Derek to help him up as well. "We need to find Scott first. He's the alpha, so his connection to the others will be stronger. If we can get him, he should be able to lead us to the rest of the pack."
"Do you have any idea where Scott might be down here?" Derek asked, tentatively.
Stiles didn't answer right away, choosing instead to stare off in deep concentration. Derek could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head, though he had no idea what the younger man was thinking. "I have one. But I'm almost afraid to ask."
"What do you mean?"
Stiles sighed, turning to look Derek in the eyes with a troubled expression on his face. "How did Scott die?"
Derek's insides turned to stone. It hadn't crossed his mind that Stiles wouldn't know, of course he wouldn't know, he was already dead, that was the problem, and Derek really didn't want to be the one to tell him what had happened. Stiles had always been too clever and insightful for his own good though. Either he'd already suspected, or Derek's reaction told him what he needed to know.
"Scott killed himself, didn't he?" Stiles asked, radiating pain and sorrow with every word. Derek could only nod slowly in response. "Because of me?" Stiles continued in the quietest tone Derek had ever heard him use.
"I…I don't know," Derek replied, hastily continuing on at the look Stiles gave him, "he…he didn't really talk much after you died. None of us did. I don't think we ever let you know how important you were to us. I'm sorry about that, by the way," Stiles waved him off, urging him to continue the story, "but for Scott it was more than that. You were everything to him – friend, brother, counselor, emissary. Losing you, on top of everyone else we lost, was just too much. Especially when we couldn't bury you," Stiles looked confused, so Derek pressed on, tears beginning to flow unchecked and voice cracking slightly, "the…hunters kept attacking, and we were forced to run and hide. Lydia and I had to practically drag Scott away, he kept saying we couldn't leave you behind, we needed to take you with us. But we couldn't…we just couldn't, not with arrows and bullets flying everywhere. We came back the next day to get your body and bury it, but the hunters had taken it instead. That really broke what was left of Scott. We heard on the radio that night the official announcement of your death, and that they were going to have a 'memorial service' for everyone to pay their disrespects to you in town. Scott cried, for hours, after that. Well, we all did really. But not like him."
Derek went quiet for a moment, the memories still fresh and painful even amidst the irony that he was talking to the dead boy in question while in Limbo. "Scott didn't speak to Lydia or me anymore after that. He stopped eating. He stopped sleeping. And then…on the day of the memorial service in town…Scott disappeared while Lydia and I were asleep. I…I don't know what happened for sure. I felt him die, I felt my bond with him go cold. I knew he was gone. But I didn't know…the radio program that night announced that Scott had…had…"
"You don't have to say any more, Derek," Stiles placed a hand gently on his shoulder, and it broke the rest of his resolve. He dissolved into sobs and Stiles slowly wrapped him in a tight embrace, his own tears mingling with the wolves as they flowed from his eyes. The two remained in place, silent but for the sounds of their grief being poured out, for several minutes. Stiles eventually let go, grabbing a box of tissues from Limbo Harris' desk and handing them to Derek after taking a few for himself to use.
"Scott was always strong," Stiles said eventually, once they were both put back together, "but his strength always came from his friends, his family. When my mom died, I think it hit him harder than it did me. I remember for awhile he would come over to my place to try to cheer me up and he'd end up being the one bawling his eyes out. I think that's why he and I have always been so close. We completed one another so to speak, in a platonic way of course." Stiles glanced at Derek then, but his expression was unreadable.
"I've always known that it would hit him hard if I died. To be honest, there were times when that was the only thing that stopped me from ending it all. Scott, and my dad. I couldn't leave my dad all alone. And I couldn't hurt my brother like that. It's my biggest regret, the thing driving me right now to do this insanely impossible, ridiculous idea of sending everyone back and undoing that pain." Derek could hear the steely resolve in his voice, could see the sharp set of his shoulders, and he was struck by how Stiles could embody both strength and brokenness so completely at the same time. It was beautiful and terrifying to behold.
"This is going to sound really bad," Stiles continued after a moment, "but this actually helps us. If there can be a silver lining in all of this I suppose," Stiles deflated, chuckling sadly and Derek fell apart just slightly as well.
"What's that?" he asked, timidly. Stiles gave him another of his unreadable expressions, all pain and fear and determination and something else.
"All of the…suicides go to the same place." The expression vanished, instead replaced by a far away look that spooked Derek more than anything else had so far. "I was afraid that might be where he was, but I was also afraid to go and look on my own. It's not far from here."
"Well," Derek said, after a tense minute or two passed by in silence. Stiles was snapped away from whatever he had gotten lost thinking about. "Let's go find him and fix this."
Stiles broke into a much more Stiles-like grin before slowly shifting back into his demon form. Knowing it was still Stiles made the beast a little less formidable looking, but Derek still took a tentative step backwards when the transformation was complete and the demon, no, it's still Stiles, turned to make eye contact again. "Let's get going!" the demon said, voice back to being deep and grating and completely un-Stiles. "Stay close to me. If we pass anyone, our official cover is I'm taking you to a chamber for punishment. Don't say anything, and if we're lucky, no one will notice that you aren't actually dead. Thank you for flying Air-Stiles, we hope you enjoy your stay in Limbo!" The demon cackled with glee in a way that only Stiles can, then grabbed Derek's arm and took off through the wall and down the stone corridor once more. What have I agreed to?
A/N - Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!