Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one apart from the following: Ms Scarlet Johnson, Octavian, Jasmine (Jaz), Miguel, Sasha,Janice (J/Jan), Jessie (Jess), Luna (Lu/LuLu), Grace (Gracie), Olivia Bishop (Olive/Livy, Liv), Skylar Harvelle (Sky), Owen Palmer, Jason, Martin and Callum.
JUST SO YOU KNOW: I know we are now aware of Stiles' real name, as well as his dad's, but I'm NOT about to go through every chapter and change them XD Also, I've made up Stiles' middle name XD
Please, please review XD
P.S. I know it's been a while, BUT I've recently graduated my Masters Degree in Creative Writing, and I'm trying to write my own book! I'll be trying to write more now, so, PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME!
Chapter 27
Stiles
I didn't remember falling asleep but, even so, I woke up on Monday morning, on the floor next to the bed I had been using. My neck was stiff and my back ached, but I couldn't care less. My mind was still reeling from the dump of information from the day before. No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't make sense of a single thing. Even with memories slowly seeping back into my head.
Heaving myself off of the floor, I decided to just get ready for the day.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't spend all day in the room. At some point, Derek would break the door down, or Uncle Gabe and Uncle Cas would use their magical Angel powers to get in. Yeah, that was going to take some getting used to.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, I found all my injuries from Octavian and friends were almost completely gone. You had to know they were there to be able to see them. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about it. Sure, I was happy I seemed to have speed healing like Scott and Derek, that would come in handy. But it was new, and somehow not new. I had powers that were hidden from me; powers that could have helped me if I had had continued access to them.
How was I supposed to feel?
And, not only did I find out I was part of the Supernatural community, and not only did I find out I was a Nephilim… I found out that I knew Derek when we were kids. We had been close; seemingly closer than Scott and I were. But I had forgotten him and his family. And they had forgotten me.
Except for Talia.
Talia always seemed to have this look in her eyes, like she knew me. But, if that was true, why didn't she say anything? And, yet, she knew Uncle Gabe and Uncle Cas. She knew my mom. Oliver, Peter and Grace knew me and my mom. They helped protect me when the Gogmagogs came for me the first time.
Why did they stop helping me?
Finishing my usual routine, I walked back into the room, picking up the art supplies I had left on the floor. I placed them on the desk before pulling the sleeves of Dad's hoodie over my hands. With a sigh, I walked over to and unlocked the door, creeping out into the hallway. It was early, as usual, the sun barely beginning to show. Every door was closed as I passed them; I couldn't hear anyone moving around inside them. I had to be the only one awake.
Good.
I was in the kitchen before I knew it. I moved on autopilot, making myself a hot chocolate. I wasn't entirely sure what to do. Was I supposed to move on now, and carry on with my life as a Nephilim? Was I supposed to ask questions? Both? Neither? All I wanted was to go back to before, to when I was small, and I didn't have to worry about anything at all. To when I had Mom and Dad with me, both alive and well. To when everything made sense.
I leaned against the counter as I waited for the milk to heat up. Everything seemed to get more confusing by the day. Questions I got answers to only brought more questions – a vicious cycle, like a snake eating its own tail.
Before I could do anything, a whirring sound started to build in my head, the same one I heard the day the mug exploded. High pitched and at an ear-bleeding frequency, I couldn't stay standing. My knees gave out, thudding harshly onto the tiled floor. Instinctually, I covered my ears but, obviously, that didn't help. I could feel the sound rattling my bones; every cell within my body vibrated until I was shaking on the floor, curled up on my side. I couldn't stop myself from convulsing, a strong metallic taste flooding over my tongue. It was as if my brain was leaking from my ears and nose, running in a constant messy drip.
Fleetingly, I wondered if this was what it was like for Erica before she got the bite.
I couldn't see. I didn't know if my eyes were closed or not, but everything was a blinding white. A burning pain shot through my back, right between my shoulder blades – kind of like when you have an itch and you scratch it, but it still itches when you stop so you start scratching it again and again until you're in a never-ending cycle until you bleed or finally decide to let the itch run its course. Or maybe it was more like holding your hand in a bucket of ice and not taking it out until it's in danger of falling off? I couldn't decide.
As soon as it had all started, it disappeared.
My sight rushed back to me; the pain and whirring stopped.
For a moment, I just lay on the floor on my back, breathing heavily. Well, until I heard the milk bubbling over, anyway.
Using the counter to pull myself up with my jellified limbs, I managed to turn off the stovetop and, somehow, didn't burn myself. The second I was sure it was alright, I let myself fall back onto the floor, panting. The cool tiles soothed my skin, taking the edge off of my sweating body.
I wonder how long I could stay here…
It took me, at the very least, five minutes before I could move again. I dragged myself up enough to drop into one of the kitchen chairs, using it to shuffle me over to the oven. I didn't care if anyone heard me – I was tired; I just wanted my drink.
I was able to finish making my hot chocolate without any issues.
By the time I was done, I was able to stand. Slowly, carefully, I walked to the living room, curling up into one of the recliner chairs, with my feet up, and cocooning myself with the soft blanket that lay over the back of it. I had gone from overheating on the floor to ice-cold, my teeth beginning to chatter. I hugged the mug to my chest, wrapping my hands around it tightly, hoping to absorb as much of its warmth as I could.
It wouldn't last forever though.
The sun had begun to peek through the curtains, casting a thin line of light across the room. Birds were chirping softly in the background and, if I closed my eyes and focused, I could hear the soothing sound of the river a few miles away. Everything outside was calm and peaceful in the early morning hours. There were days, when I was younger, before Mom and Dad died, when I would wake up early on days like this. Sunlight would be creeping into my room, beginning to cast tiny shadows, and I would rouse from my sleep as if it was calling out to me. I couldn't help but smile on those days, but I didn't know why. I would slide out of bed and sneak into my parents' room, the two of them cuddled together in their sleep. Quietly, I would tiptoe over to their bed, carefully crawling under the covers and towards them. I managed to squeeze myself between the two, pressed between them; I would cuddle close, basking in the sensation of feeling completely loved and protected.
Dad would always wake up first out of the two of them. He wouldn't open his eyes, but I would feel him press a kiss to my forehead and his arm curl a little tighter around Mom and me. Like me, he would smile softly. It would only take a few minutes before Mom's eyes fluttered open, her face blank before she saw Dad and me next to her. The three of us would stay there for as long as we could, huddled together. If Dad happened to have some time off, the three of us would usually fall back asleep, or we would just lay there and talk about nothing. If Dad had to go to work, Mom and I would go downstairs and start breakfast while Dad got ready, after we had all reluctantly, eventually, gotten up. I always preferred the days that Dad could stay at home with us – we all did. We would have lazy mornings, not getting up until ten, at the earliest. We would have pancakes for breakfast, or we'd go out to eat if we didn't want to cook; we spend the rest of the day watching movies, getting takeout for dinner and refusing to leave the comfort of each other unless absolutely necessary.
Sighing to myself, I took a sip of my cooling hot chocolate.
I didn't care that it was summer and I was having hot chocolate – it had always been my comfort drink. Whenever I was sad, or if I had a bad day at school, Mom or Dad would always make me hot chocolate to try and cheer me up a little. It always seemed to work, too. It seemed only right that I made myself hot chocolate when my head and heart were confused.
The sweet silence was disturbed by a small ping.
For a moment, I frowned, glancing around for the source of the sound.
Ping.
It was the second time that I realised it was my phone. I hadn't noticed that it was in the pocket of Dad's hoodie. Digging it out, the first thing I saw was the time – 5:27am. The next was Scott's name.
Scott, Allison and the rest of Derek's Pack had left long after the sun had set, the day before. Scott had tried talking to me; had tried getting me to open the door and let him inside. He gave in after a few hours, realising that I wasn't going to break easily.
Scotty – 5:26am: Hey, you awake?
Scotty – 5:27am: =^·ᴥ·^= Look what I made
I couldn't help but smile at the little face staring back at me on the screen. For whatever reason, ever since I got a phone, Scott loved sending me characters made out of symbols. Some he would find online and copy, others he made himself. This one had to be my favourite, so far.
Me – 5:27am: 10/10. What're you doing up so early?
Scotty – 5:27am: Can't sleep /(ꙩ~ꙩ)\ Haven't heard from you since yesterday
His reply came instantly, the upside-down face pulling a small laugh from me. Scott was always able to do that, no matter how shitty I felt – except for most of the first year after I lost my parents. It was one of the many things I loved about him.
Me – 5:27am: Yeah. I'm just trying to sort my head out, you know?
Scotty – 5:27am: I could come over later if you want. Or you could come here! It's been a while since we've hung out, just us
Setting down my half-drunk hot chocolate on the table next to me, I frowned at the message. As much as I wanted to see Scott, to hang out at his place like we used to and forget what was happening with me, I couldn't do it.
Me – 5:28am: Don't think that's a good idea right now, Scotty. I'm still not quite sure what's going on with me, and I don't wanna hurt you
Scotty – 5:28am: You'd never hurt me
Me – 5:28am: But what if I do?
Scotty – 5:28am: You wouldn't, I know you wouldn't. So, how about it?
I wanted to believe him; I wanted to just take his word for it and agree. He had so much faith in me, so why shouldn't I? But I couldn't take the risk. Definitely not with Scott.
Me – 5:30am: I'm sorry, Scott. I don't think it's a good idea.
Silencing and locking my phone, I placed it on the table and picked up my hot chocolate again. I took another drink, ignoring the buzz as my phone vibrated against the wood. Shifting in the chair, I turned my back to the table and adjusted the blanket around me. Sighing, I closed my eyes.
I'll just rest them for a minute…
When I opened my eyes again, my hot chocolate was no longer in my hands and the sun was streaming into the room. I could hear a soft clanking coming from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of pancakes and bacon; my stomach growled. Footsteps came from somewhere close, the sound barely audible over the noises of someone cooking. I sat up slowly, righting myself in the chair and letting the blanket fall from around my shoulders; I rubbed at my eyes, suppressing a yawn.
Talia walked around the corner.
The Alpha's hair was pulled into a loose ponytail; a cosy, dark red dressing-gown hung around her. She wore comfortable lounging clothes like she usually did on a morning, never her actual pyjamas like everyone else; the only bit of bright colour she had on her were the baby pink slippers on her feet.
As she came into the living room, Talia had a soft smile on her face and a book of some kind tucked under her arm. Running a hand through my hair, I turned in the chair as she perched on the sofa to my left, as close as she could get to me. She held the book in front of her chest, nothing on the back giving away what it was.
"Hi there," she said, quietly.
"Hey," I croaked before clearing my throat.
Her smile growing a little, Talia held the book out to me. It was rectangular, the length of a landscape A4 piece of paper turned landscape, and the height of a portrait A5 sheet of paper. The cover was black leather, slightly cracked, with 'Memories' written in gold calligraphy on the front.
I just stared at it.
"I thought you might like this," Talia explained, gently. "I finally accepted last night, after everything that happened with your uncles, that you didn't quite remember us from your younger days. So, I thought a photo album could help.
"A photo album…" I repeated, slowly.
"We couldn't stop taking pictures of you kids, especially when we were all together. Your mother and I bought matching albums and, the next time you spent the weekend with us, we put them together. We made two each, so we always had a spare – just in case something happened, like a fire. But I think this one would be better with you, instead."
I still didn't take the book.
I couldn't remember much of my memories with the Hales. Only the little images that popped into my head. There was nothing substantial, nothing important. Not yet, anyway. Taking the album, and looking through it, could definitely help me unlock those memories.
But was I ready for that?
"There're quite a few pictures of your parents in there, too," Talia added.
"What?" I blurted out; eyes wide.
With a small laugh, Talia leaned closer to me. She placed the photo album on my lap, resting her hand on mine. I stared down at our hands, the warmth both familiar and not all at the same time; her thumb rubbed across the back of my fingers.
"When your mother and I were putting these albums together, we thought it would be nice to add them in," Talia explained. "Pictures of us with all of you, instead of just staying behind the camera all the time. Peter always made sure to snap some extra ones of us all, as well."
"Peter did?" I muttered.
"I know; not many people expect that about Peter. He's loved taking photos ever since he was Jessie's age; I bought him a camera on his seventh birthday and, since then, he's always had one."
Even with that bit of information, no image came to mind. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It didn't matter how much I tried; no matter how much I visualised it. It was as if the memory didn't actually exist in my head.
I looked up at Talia when I felt a small squeeze on my hand. Her smile had turned sad, her eyes lit with an understanding. I wasn't able to look away again.
"It's alright if you don't remember everything straight away," she soothed. "It'll take time. And you can always ask if there's something you'd like to know."
I just nodded.
"Good," Talia continued. "Now, how about I grab you some breakfast, hm? You can eat in here and look through the pictures if you want; I'll keep everyone else out of here for a while."
I didn't have a chance to reply to her; Talia simply stood up and stroked the side of my face, before she left the room. Leaning against the back of the chair, I let my gaze drop to the album that was in my lap, trailing my fingers across the lettering.
Did I want to?
I didn't look through the album. I couldn't. Instead, I placed it next to me on the chair. I focused on eating, practically inhaling, the food that Talia had brought in for me. The moment I had finished, Jaz came and took it away, exchanging it for a large glass of apple juice. I kept telling her she didn't need to do things like that for me; that I would happily do it for myself.
Jaz never listened to me.
After that, I wasn't left alone for long. Jessie and Luna were the next ones to run into the room, the two girls jumping onto me the moment they were close enough. They cuddled close to me, telling me how they were going outside with their mom and the others; how they were going to train by playing a game of tag. Grace came in not long after, ushering the girls outside, laughing as the two pressed a kiss to my cheeks and ran off giggling.
I watched as Grace, Laura, Cora and Janice followed after Jessie and Luna, each one of them sending me a little wave as they passed by the door. I waved back, weakly. I expected to see Talia, Oliver, Peter and Derek trail behind them, that they would give me the same wave as they left.
I didn't expect the four of them to join me in the living room, with Uncle Gabe, Uncle Cas and their two hunter friends behind them. Talia, Oliver and Peter took their usual seats, as Derek sat in the same seat Talia had earlier on; Uncle Gabe, Uncle Cas and their friends sat to my right.
Immediately, I felt like a cornered animal.
I curled my knees up to my chest, hugging them to me as I stared at the floor. My hands got clammy; my heartbeat began to rise. I tried to breathe normally, but it didn't seem to help. My chest started getting tight and a quiet whirring started in the back of my head.
I should have stayed upstairs…
"Why are me and Sam here again?" Dean mumbled. "The kid doesn't even know us."
"Because you both have first-hand knowledge of Angels, Dean," Uncle Cas explained. "You and Sam both know the difficulties of accepting that reality."
"Though, with Stiles, that won't include stabbing." Uncle Gabe snorted.
Turning my head towards them, I frowned.
"Well, excuse me for thinking Cas was a Demon," Dean growled. "It's as if he was the first Angel I'd met and didn't trust him when he told me what he was."
"You still stabbed him, Deano." Uncle Gabe shrugged.
"This isn't what we're supposed to be talking about." Uncle Cas sighed.
Uncle Gabe turned towards me, grinning cheekily with a wink as he popped a lollipop into his mouth. I couldn't help but smile at him. From the things I could remember of my childhood, about my uncles, Uncle Gabe was always funny. And he always had sweets. He would always pretend to pull them out from behind my ears, like a magician, telling me he'd teach me how to do it one day. As I grew older, however, I always thought it was sleight of hand.
Obviously, that wasn't the case.
Rolling his eyes, Uncle Cas stood up from where he sat between Uncle Gabe and Dean. He walked towards me, perching on the arm of the chair I was in and placed his hand on my shoulder.
"I know there is much we need to discuss," Uncle Cas started, gently. "But I would like to know more about what happened to you after Claudia passed; after what happened to Noah."
A lump formed in my throat as clips of my parents dying in front of me played through my head. I leant into Uncle Cas' side, his arm moving to encircle me instantly.
"Ok, um," I spoke, quietly. "Like I told you, Dad managed to get me so far. There was a woman outside that he asked to look after me before he got shot. Well, it just so happened that woman ran an adoption agency. For Supernaturals."
I didn't look at my uncles and their friends. I didn't look at Talia, Oliver or Peter. I didn't even look at Derek, who already knew this part of the story.
"I thought she'd be nice, you know? That she'd look after me. But she didn't." I continued, voice cracking. "She made me, uh… She made me clean Dad's blood off the sidewalk and the window before she let me inside, saying I had to clean up my mess and, when I was finished, she locked me in the basement for the night. She decided to keep me around, so I could take care of the place for her. Like, do the cleaning and cooking and stuff."
I didn't cry. Not like I had when I told Derek, after the nightmare I had. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could cry about it anymore. Apart from the ache in my throat, I felt almost numb to it all.
I went on to tell them about how they treated me in that place. What they were all like. About the beatings, about leaving me outside during thunderstorms. Everything. I wanted to leave out Octavian and the people like him, but I couldn't. They already heard Octavian's name. I needed to tell them about him. I explained what had happened before I blacked out in a little more detail, and told them what Octavian had said, something I hadn't even told Derek yet.
I could practically feel Derek's eyes burning into the side of my head.
"I, uh… I prayed a lot when I was there." I confessed. "Didn't know why, but I thought it might help. Not that it did."
The whirring in my head started to get louder.
"I prayed and begged, every day, for someone to help me. But no one did. Even when my prayers got suicidal."
I could feel my body shaking.
"Why didn't you two help me?"
I looked at Uncle Gabe and Uncle Cas, the edges of my vision going fuzzy. Their eyes had widened minutely, both of them sitting up a little straighter. Both looked from each other to me, then back again, neither seeming to know what to say.
A dull pain started in my back, between my shoulder blades; emotion began to bubble up in my stomach. I clenched and unclenched my hands repeatedly, and I tried to take calming breaths.
"Neither of us knew, Gen," Uncle Gabe started, carefully. "Things – Things were complicated for a long time."
"Complicated?" I repeated. "Things were… Complicated?"
Fire blazed inside my chest, the heat consuming every cell it touched and making it spread throughout my body. But I couldn't care less. Letting go of my knees, I stood slowly, balling my hands into fists. Everything around me began to rattle slightly.
"I was beaten and tortured and almost raped for close to nine years, but you couldn't help me because things were complicated?" I hissed. "That's what you're saying?"
"Stiles, it's not that simple," Uncle Gabe tried, holding his hands up in surrender. "I was cut off from Heaven. Everyone thought I was dead; I had to lay low."
I couldn't stop shaking. My entire body convulsed as if I had been stuck out in a snowstorm for an hour.
"And I was kept away from things like prayers from my superiors," Uncle Cas added. "Neither of us even knew Claudia and Noah had died."
"Those are shitty excuses," Derek growled from behind me. "He's your family, your blood! You two have no idea what it was like for him."
"Derek, enough," Talia warned.
"No, Derek's right." I laughed, bitterly. "They don't."
I could feel blood dripping through my fingers, but I didn't know why. The whirring was droning, screeching inside my head; the pain in my back starting to rise in intensity. But nothing seemed to compute.
"Do you know how many times I tried to kill myself?" I snarled. "How many times I thought it would be easier to just give up? Hell, sometimes I thought it'd just be easier to let Octavian and his friends do what they wanted and get it over with. I've had broken bones; I have scars all over my body from belts and glass and claws."
I pulled up Dad's hoodie and my pyjama shirt, showing the marks that decorated my body, all in different stages of healing. If I had wanted, I could have pointed out each one and told them who gave it to me, on what day, at what time and why.
But I didn't.
"And you know what else?" I yelled. "They messed with my head so much that I tried to fuck Derek when he was upset, because I had tried to cut myself, because I thought I had to! Do you realise how fucked up that is? But you couldn't help me, because things were complicated!"
Lightbulbs shattered.
Pictures fell off the wall.
Books flew off their shelves.
"Fuck you!" I screamed.
Grabbing the photo album from the seat of the recliner, I turned to leave.
I found the rest of the Hales, as well as the entirety of Derek's Pack, just outside of the living room. From the looks on their faces, from how they had Jessie and Luna facing them and covering their ears, they had been standing there for a while.
Before I let myself realise what kind of situation I was in, I barged past them all and launched myself up the stairs.
I really shouldn't have gone down there.
P.S. I know it's been a while, BUT I've recently finished my Masters Degree in Creative Writing! I'm HOPING to be writing more now, so, PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME!
Please, please review XD
Thank you all so much ^_^