Chapter Five -Happy Endings are for the Innocent
"You serious?" The man next to him asks in a whisper, his hooded face turned towards him. He doesn't look at his face, but he knows it's the same man from the platform who he'd warned to take the next car.
"Be quiet," Derek hisses at him.
"Best of luck," the man replies softly, his hood completely obscuring his face as he looks straight down.
He takes the opportunity when the train bursts through into the next area with a cacophony of rumbling to attack the guard in the train car.
He stomps on the automatic cuff switch until they all snap open, freeing the rest of them. He goes on the defensive when guards start pouring into the car. Taking them down with ease, he makes his way through the next car.
The guards aren't prepared for anyone combat ready and fall under his hands like paper dolls.
He keeps moving through the train, car after car, taking out guards.
Within moments, he's joined by the man from the platform again. This time he's got most of their train car with him. They're all carrying the guns Derek had left with the unconscious guards, most of whom have obviously never held one.
"They all want to fight," the man tells him.
But Derek doesn't care.
"Good for them."
The train barrels on.
"So... this is awkward," Laura admits, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Derek. He's pressed up against Stiles, who doesn't seem to mind the lack of space given the three or four inches between himself and Scott. Sheriff Stilinski is in casual clothes, a Property of Beacon Hills t-shirt and blue jeans. It suits him, though it's weird not to see him in the sheriff's uniform. She doesn't know the woman, but she thinks she must be Scott's mother-which is another weird thing to think about.
Scott was Derek's brother, once upon a time. Laura had never known the details of their lives before she came to Derek in their first life, other than what she had been told or overheard. And in this life, she was Derek's sibling. She'd never even met Scott before.
But she knew who he was. She knows who he is now. If Derek remembers, which she's still unsure of, then she can't imagine how he feels. She doesn't know if they're close. She can tell that Derek and Stiles must be.
Chris is still wary and unsure of himself, standing off to the side. She wants to comfort him, ease him into things, but she doesn't know how.
She left him, a year ago, with no explanation. And now she's back and he's... he's broken and she doesn't know why.
Why wasn't he with his family? Did Victoria leave him? Why had he come to Beacon Hills at all?
"I haven't found anything anywhere about whatever the killer is using to write his message with. And we don't know what it means. There could be more bodies out there marked like this and we wouldn't know," Stiles says, waving his hand at the laptop on the table in front of them. He's open to a plain looking forum, layers of brown boxes that look familiar enough for her to recognize it as reputable.
"I've got Parrish checking all recent deaths within the county, but some of these were already declared accidental or suicide. It's not going to be easy for him without upsetting families, especially today," Sheriff Stilinski picks up before taking a drink from his mug. It's coffee, though an inexpensive brand if her nose is right. She wonders if it's because he likes the taste or if he can't afford anything else.
"I haven't felt anything," Lydia admits then, and she looks worried at that. Laura can't imagine being in her position. She hadn't been told much, but Lydia did tell her about her banshee powers.
It feels so unfair that she would be stuck in that cycle of death and rebirth, only to still be connected to death now.
But Laura hasn't expected anything to be fair since she was twenty-two at the Beacon Hills Spring Fling with her boyfriend Ashton, not even upset that it was taking place at the school that year.
"Derek, you must be the Alpha now. Can you sense anything?" Laura asks, and everyone stops.
Even Chris, who's staring at her with such a tortured look she can't stand it.
"Derek's not an Alpha," Scott says then, leaning forward to catch her face.
His eyes flash red and she knows hers must flash in return.
"You... You let a kid kill Peter?" She knows she must nearly yell it by the way Derek flinches.
"Hey! I didn't kill anyone!" Scott says in surprise and Laura is so confused.
"Why didn't Derek get the power when he killed Peter then? It should have-"
"It did," Chris interrupts her, and she watches Derek slowly start to relax.
"I think I need to know what has been happening. Now."
"There's... Look, a lot has happened. Highlights... Scott is a True Alpha, Derek gave up his alpha powers to save Cora's life-" Stiles starts.
"Cora's alive?" Laura feels her heartbeat kick up, know the whole room can hear it.
"She's on her way here. She's been staying in Bran Bal. It's a village in South America. They took her in after the fire," Derek explains. She wants to ask more, but Derek shakes his head.
"Peter was dead but now he's not-" Stiles tries to continue but she can't handle that.
"No. Please tell me you're lying!" Derek is reaching for her and she knows he can feel the panic in her, smell it, hear it.
"Laura, Laura, it's okay. He hasn't done-" Derek tries, but she pushes his hands away.
"No. You don't understand! He has to be the one doing this-"
"We already thought about that. He couldn't have been, there's security camera footage of him when the second murder happened."
"No, Derek. I... You don't. He's not... you can't trust him. He's Bhunivelze."
-x-
Chris doesn't want to believe her. Doesn't want to believe that their sacrifice would have been cruel enough to rescue the god that tried to kill them too.
But Laura believes it. Laura believes it and Chris doesn't think she would lie, not about this.
Not about him.
"Bhunivelze... but that's just a god from one of Scott's video games... right?" Scott's mother asks, and he can see the fear written across her face, the desperate need for it to be true.
"He was the god of everything once. Almighty Bhunivelze, god of light, stands above other gods and holds the world in his palm. He created Pulse the wild, Lindzei the wise, and Etro, the goddess of death and Chaos, and then retreated from man's sight and slipped into a long slumber," Stiles quotes, and each word resonated true.
Chris can tell by the way everyone is reacting that they all remembered. Not totally, not completely, but enough.
"I thought it was a stupid dream. Been having them since your mother died," Sheriff Stilinski says, obviously to Stiles. Scott's mother bites back a cry, and Scott is at her side in an instant.
"I remembered on the plane back from France," Isaac says quietly, and Chris finally understands. That deluge of knowledge must have been terrifying. He doesn't blame Isaac for needing to be alone, not anymore.
"It's real? I was really your brother once?" Scott asks Derek suddenly, and then Chris remembers how devoted Derek had been to saving him once. How nothing else mattered but Scott.
How could he have ever thought Derek a monster?
-x-
He's still soaked in sweat, dust, and dried blood when he pushes through the door into Peter's bedroom, uncaring about the lingering filth from his trek through South America. Instead, he strips off his shirt and relaxes back on the mattress, letting his body go weak and pliant. His master leans over him, pinning him down. There's a grin on his face with too many teeth, but he finds he doesn't care.
"Are you ready for tonight, boy?" Peter-Bhunivelze-asks, and he feels a stirring of arousal in his gut at the idea.
"It will be the best kill yet," he whispers into Bhunivelze's mouth and kisses him hard.
-x-
It happened to him twice.
It was real.
It was real and they all knew it was real and...
Derek doesn't seem to notice. That's the first thing that Stiles thought.
How can he not notice? Derek knows him better than anyone else has since his dad died.
It doesn't change, not as far as he can tell. Derek never attempted to distrust what came out of Stiles' mouth and it made something in him ache.
You're doing my will, child. Your God thanks you.
Stiles thought, for a moment, that Derek would figure it out, know that he wasn't the one speaking. When he was in Boyd's office in Ruffian and he commented on how detached he sounded. As if what had happened to them had happened to someone else.
But he never did.
He wouldn't thank you if you could tell him. He'd hate you, sure as anything.
He loved Derek. He had always wanted Derek to trust him this implicitly; he had always wanted Derek to care about his opinion and talk to him.
But not like this. Never like this.
You're doing so well, Stiles. You're doing my will and you will be rewarded.
Bring Scott back to him.
You know I can't do that, Stiles. Why would you ask me to do that?
You promised him his brother back!
I am a god, and I will do what I want. You will not disobey me.
Yes, Bhunivelze.
Good boy.
"Derek, we need to find the Clavis," Bhunivelze spoke with Stiles' voice.
The knowledge of what the Clavis would do burned in his head like a memory he'd rather forget. His dad would be gone again, permanently this time. Everyone would be, except those few left now. Derek would never want this, if he knew.
Bhunivelze's smirk on Stiles' face, reflected in the screen of his computer, felt like broken glass in his mouth.
Stiles barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving, vomit and spit splattering on the bathroom floor. He managed to make it to the toilet before the next heave, consciously aware of the hand rubbing circles on his back.
"Give him some space," Derek's voice cuts through the din in his head, loud but even.
"He's my son," his dad protested.
Derek didn't stop gently rubbing despite his dad's presence, not even when his dad crouched beside him as he heaved again.
"I love you kid. This doesn't change anything, okay?"
Stiles jerked his head shakily in a nod as he leaned back into Derek's touch.
"If... If Peter's really Bhunivelze... and if he's the one... killing people. This is... it's bad. He's not human," Stiles shivered.
"You... you said he was a god," his dad said.
"Bhunivelze created the gods who created humanity and at the end of the world, humanity revolted against him. We killed him, Dad. He wasn't... he shouldn't be alive. If he remembers..." Stiles trailed off, unable to finish.
"Then he's just playing with us. His endgame has to be about power," Derek continued, his hand stilled.
"They're sacrifices. Blake. I don't remember Blake. Who was Blake?" Stiles asked.
"The Darach, right?" his dad asked, and Stiles nodded.
"We've all been pulled together. There's seven billion people on this planet and yet we're all here. Together. Blake... she's the only one I can't place."
"We should focus on finding out what Peter's plan is," Derek interrupted him.
"Cora. Where's Cora, Derek?"
-x-
Malia knows that this is wrong. The coyote part of her had no qualms with the kill, but the human part-especially the human part that remembered things she shouldn't-knows that it's wrong.
She remembers though, the way Peter's voice sounded when he said he had plans for Derek and Stiles. Remembers how his identity was less important to him than whatever it was he could do as a spark.
It hadn't even been a day since that nasty inhuman creature had brought her to Peter, to her birth father. And she was already expected to fall to his will.
He knew what she was to him. "I can smell it on you." And he knew that her morality was skewed by the coyote.
He didn't know she remembered being an adult.
He didn't know she would do anything to make sure that Stiles would be okay this time.
So she'd agreed.
It wasn't as if she was alone. The jaguar was with her. She hadn't learned the creature's name, hadn't cared to listen to her father's introduction. He'd liked it when she called the shifter-woman a house cat instead.
"If you're too afraid, little girl, I can do it for you," the woman purrs in her ear.
"I'm not afraid. Can't you smell that? It's not my first kill."
It was true, mostly. It wasn't her first kill.
It would be her first murder though.
"Oh, Princess. You've even got claws when daddy's away. That's cute. I'll be watching," the woman says, lightly biting the edge of her ear with her blunt human teeth.
Malia swats at the unwelcome and uncomfortable intrusion, growling, "You do that."
She steps deliberately forward into the road, waving down the police cruiser passing by on patrol.
"I need help!" She pretends to cry, shaking her hands as if nervous.
"Hey, it's okay. What can I help you with, miss?"
"It's my dad. He's... He's going to be so angry. I don't want... I can't..." She rambles and it works.
She's hardly done anything!
But the deputy opens the car door.
Perfect.
She bolts forward and holds him down by sitting on him.
To her horror, he smells aroused at that.
"You're disgusting," she snarls, feeling the shift begging to come over her. She's dressed like she's several years younger-deliberately.
"Like you're the first little girl to want-"
She lets her face change, feels the rush of power it gives her to feel his terror beneath her, to smell it.
"Deputy Haigh. Your god has weighed you on the scales and you have been found wanting," she recites, her stomach churning.
"I haven't-"
She presses her arm into his throat, using as much strength as she can muster without crushing his windpipe. It's important he's alive for this part.
"You will be an excellent sacrifice," she whispers in his ear as she pulls the gun from his holster.
He starts to struggle then, but he isn't a match for her. She breaks his arm while trying to force the gun into his hand and feels no guilt over it. He's howling in pain, obviously trying not to scream.
"How many?" she asks, going off script.
He shakes his head, gritting his teeth.
"How. Many." she demands again, twisting his broken arm as he finally loses control and screams, his cry loud and broken.
"Six, six. Six girls. They were asking-" he answers, stopping when she slams the gun-still in his hand where her own hand keeps it tightly fisted-into his groin.
She wants to shoot him there so badly.
"How old were they? Answer me or you die right now," she snarls, moving the gun to the underside of his chin.
"Fifteen? I don't know-I didn't ask-"
"I would have made this an easy death, you know. I was supposed to make it quick, not injure you."
"Death? You said-"
"I lied," Malia says, using her small fingers and supernatural strength to make him pull the trigger himself.
It's messy and loud and bloody.
She crawls off his lap.
"You're too emotional," the woman states, looking disapproving.
"You think he's going to care about a broken arm?" Malia asks, fighting the urge to vomit. She drags a finger through the blood on her face and walks around to the front of the car. The woman follows.
"You think he gives a damn about some little girls?"
"No. I know he doesn't. Don't you know who he was? Who he's becoming again?"
"I don't much care, girl."
"You will."
-x-
Cora's phone rings too many times for Derek's comfort. He hangs up and redials the number twice, sharing a little bit of panic between him and Stiles with nothing more than a glance.
"Sheriff!"
Derek nearly drops the phone when the shout echoes through the small bathroom. The sheriff is on his feet in an instant, rushing towards Scott's voice. Stiles follows.
"Derek, what's happening? Derek?" Cora's voice is suddenly loud in his ears. Derek doesn't move to follow them out, instead focusing on Cora.
"Cora, where are you?"
"I'm an hour outside Beacon Hills, Derek, what's going on?"
"You need to get here as soon as you can. It's... It's Peter,"
"Did he finally lose-"
"Peter is Bhunivelze."
"What? No, he can't..."
"Cora, there's something else you need to know something before you get here," Derek interrupts as he looks back through the bathroom door as if he can still see Stiles.
"Something more terrifying that Peter being Bhunivelze?" Cora's voice sounds shrill and afraid and Derek hates that he's doing this over the phone.
"Everyone's remembering... and Lydia... Lydia brought Laura back to life, Cora. Laura's alive."
-x-
Bhunivelze slinks out of his bed, careful not to wake his precious companion. He can hear the twin heartbeats approaching, can practically taste the blood that lingers on their skin. Malia's practically snarling at the other shifter by the time he reaches them, her claws digging into the flesh of her palms so she doesn't lash out like her nature desires.
The coyote's blood smells heavenly to him, even mixed with the lingering taint of the deputy's own blood on her skin.
"Argent. I suggest you head back to your den before the girl decides to eviscerate you. I do think she's quite capable."
He leaves them before he hears either of them respond, though he longs to see their fight in all its glory.
The kanima has returned to his side early, his sated body resting peacefully in his bed. He has other plans to put into fruition before the night comes, though.
The evening's sacrifice needed to be checked on. It was such a hassle to have to kidnap someone ahead of time, but he could hardly expect to catch the man unprepared once he ramped up the game.
Alan Deaton is much too paranoid a man for that after all.
Author's note:
As some of you may know, some time into the writing process for this piece I was suddenly faced with the devastating loss of my first child halfway through my pregnancy. The past few months have been achingly hard, but I have endeavored to power through and still get this put out there. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed what I've got up, and that you continue to enjoy it as the story continues. There's much more to come.