Stiles swapped Scott's hand away as they sat on the couch, his laptop balanced on his lap and his own phone on the armrest. "Scott, we only have like three more tries, I don't want it to lock us out." Scott gave a frustrated groan as he looked at his own phone. They had gone over to Stiles' empty house, and after securing the doors, they had set up camp on the couch.
"I don't know what else we can try! Maybe you should just try resetting the phone?"
"I'm trying to get in without erasing information, Scott! I don't want a new iPhone!" Stiles grabbed his phone and then made his way to his contacts. Scott gazed over, trying to see what the other was doing.
"Who are you calling?" He asked curiously. Stiles held the phone up to his ear.
On the other end, a sleepy Danny Mahealani answered grumpily. "Who is this. It's three AM. Call back later."
"No, no! Danny, it's your friend, Stiles! From lacrosse? We have English together. Look, before you hang up, I just- I remember I heard about you getting in trouble for hacking in middle school, and I just - I need to borrow your knowledge. Just real quick." Stiles exclaimed quickly, and he heard a sigh from the phone.
"Stilinski, it was middle school. I don't do that shit anymore." Stiles put up his hand like it would stop Danny from hanging up as he rushed into his next sentence.
"Look, I know you do Danny, come on. Let's just have a man to man talk about our devious acts, okay? I have a situation here, I really need you to focus. Before you hang up, just answer this - how do you unlock a phone that you, um- forgot the passcode to? Without erasing the data?"
There was a long silence, and Stiles put the phone away from his ear to make sure Danny hadn't hung up on him. When he saw the call time still ticking its way up, he put his head back against the phone. "Danny?"
"You can't. Who's phone is it?"
"My, um, friend. New friend. He just can't remember what his passcode was, it's an old phone, he has pictures of his newborn on there and he doesn't want to lose them." Stiles lied, and there was another pause.
"...did you steal someones phone?"
"No, no! Why would you think that? Come on Danny. I have my own phone, why would I need someone else's. Look, do you have a solution for me or not?"
"I'm hanging up, Stilinski." Danny said groggily, and Stiles gripped his phone.
"No, no! Come on Danny. Look, I'll pay you. I'll pay you twenty bucks. Tomorrow, I'll come in and first thing, twenty in your hand. Just tell me."
"Fifty." Danny said, and Stiles made a face.
"Fifty, really- fine, fifty. How do I do it?"
"What's your 'friend's' history? What's he look like, what's he like. Family." Danny asked, sounding a little more awake. Stiles looked at Scott, and then slowly started.
"Well...probably mid-twenties, daughter who's around one. Deceased wife, unexplained death. Um, leather jacket he wears a lot, broad shoulders, five o'clock shadow and really sharp features, good looking. Green eyes. He's ripped."
"Sounds cute," Danny said after a moment.
"Danny, that's a bit creepy. Let's not have phone sex, okay? Why do you need his history?"
"Have you tried his daughter's birthday? Month and day, or year. Or date of his wedding." Stiles pinned the phone on his shoulder against his ear and then started on Google. He typed for a moment and handed Scott Derek's phone. Pulling up the Hale wedding, he decided to type Paige's name and then Derek's, which brought up a wedding announcement in the paper. Then he put in Luna's name with Paige and Derek, and it brought up a birth announcement.
"You might want to try the kid's birthday first," Danny advised halfheartedly. "If his wife is dead he probably won't want to remember it every time he opens his phone."
"Good idea. Scott, try 0, 6, 1, 8." Stiles said, and Scott tried it. The phone clinked open, and there was a picture of Luna on his main screen. "Hell yeah! Thanks Danny. I'll give you the payment tomorrow."
"You're still a dick for calling this late Stiles." Danny said and then hung up. Stiles put his phone to the side, discarding it for Derek's as the laptop sat on his lap. He opened pictures first, but it was over one hundred pictures of Luna in various moments of her first year.
"Awwww...look at that, her in that cute Halloween outfit! They made her a werewolf! Man, they're good at make up, that looks so real." Stiles said, and Scott leaned over to look at the screen. Stiles continued to scroll, frowning. "...man, there's a few pictures of that. And why is there that weird glare on almost every picture when she looks at the camera? Weird. Okay, baby pictures are great but this isn't helping us. I'm going to open his text messages. Oh, hey, he's gotten a few. Popular guy."
He opened up the text messages, and then scrolled down the names. Ennis, Cora, Laura, Mom. Someone named Gramma and Peter, then another from someone named Alice. "I feel like this is really invasive. Oh, look. We just got another text from a random number. What's that one say?" Stiles touched the message, and then Scott leaned in closer.
"'Get out of your house, you're in danger. Don't respond.'" Stiles stopped, then looked at Scott. "...that's a joke right?" Scott looked concerned as he glanced at Stiles, then back at the message.
"...it says not to respond," Scott said, and then pointed at Peter's number. "...read the other texts."
Stiles scrolled down Ennis' conversation, which sounded a lot like the almost coded conversations Stiles had heard with the family. "Ennis says, 'Your mother should just join us. This truce won't last forever', and Derek responded, 'Don't talk to me'. Ennis sent, 'The only thing she would have to do is kill two of her betas.' What the hell is a beta? A fish? They want her to kill her fish? What kind of messed up guy is this Ennis dude. Must be afraid of fish." Stiles muttered as he opened up Peter and Derek's conversation and scrolled up. "Peter sent, 'You smell like a dork', and Derek responded, 'shut up'. Oh, hey. This was a few days ago." He scrolled down, reading. "...Peter said something about Derek needing to get home and Derek said '4 min'. God, how prolific this guy is. Seriously. Just the length of his texts. Oh, look. This one from this Laura girl, 'Derek, meet Shea', and she has a picture of her and a guy. Wow, he's hot. To which Derek responded with a lofty narrative, 'cool'." Scott snorted as he grinned, and shook his head.
"Dude, we're not finding much here. I mean, I'm still thinking maybe this was a bad idea. What if someone is going to do something to their house?"
"Yeah, that's making me feel uneasy too," Stiles admitted as he put a hand over his mouth, thinking. He reached over and closed his laptop, and then stared at the phone with the threatening text. "I mean, the baby is there. Maybe I should tell my dad. He'll yell at me for stealing someone's property, but if anything happens to that kid..."
"I'll feel responsible," Scott said quietly, giving Stiles a look. "I suggested this whole thing, I don't want something bad to happen to them now." As he said it, something fell in the kitchen. Stiles moved his laptop, nodding to Scott as he put a finger over his mouth. He pocketed the phones and then grabbed the table light next to the couch, unplugging it. Scott got up and grabbed a fire poker from in front of the fireplace. They cautiously approached the kitchen door.
Stiles motioned that he was going to open the door, and Scott put up his hands to stop him. "We don't know if they're carrying a gun," Scott whispered, and then motioned towards the front door. "Maybe...go?"
"It might be my dad, he comes in through the kitchen," Stiles said as he slowly opened the door a crack. When he didn't see anything, he opened it all the way, and the kitchen was empty. He flicked on the light, and walked into the room, observing the area. "No one's here. Look, there's what fell over. That damn banana fell off the fruit bowl." He leaned down to pick up the fruit, and Scott walked in, setting down the iron rod on the counter.
Scott opened the fridge and took out a soda, cracking the top. "This is too stressful man. I think I need a break."
"Wait, I heard something else." Stiles motioned for Scott to freeze as he walked with the lamp towards the living room again. He looked in and saw Derek sitting on the couch. The man looked at Stiles pointedly, clearly not happy with him.
"Phone. Now." He said as he held out his hand, expecting the other to walk over. He gestured at the lamp Stiles was holding. "And if you even think of hitting me in the face with that, I will kill you."
"Look, I took your phone for a good reason." Stiles said, and the man's expression didn't change. He motioned for him to walk over.
"Phone. Now."
"No, you're in my house. In my house, I make the rules." Stiles felt Scott's hand on his shoulder, and he moved so Scott could walk in. He had traded his pop can for the iron rod again, and was holding it up defensively.
Derek's expression went from insistently grumpy to fury as he kept his lips in a line. He slowly rose from his chair.
"In my house," Stiles repeated, and then slowly reached in his pocket, "I make the decisions, you can't boss me around. It's my territory." Derek walked closer, his hands balled in fists as he stared down at Stiles. The other felt the anger radiating off the taller man. Stiles was trying to hold his ground but Derek reached out and grabbed the lamp from Stiles' grip, and threw it at a wall. It shattered and fell in a heap to the floor, knocking over a painting. "The phone." He repeated, staring at Stiles.
"In my house," Stiles repeated for the umpteenth time, but his hand was retrieving the phone from his pocket as he said it. He slowly handed it to Derek, his eyes narrowed. "I decided to give this back. Just so you know, it was my choice. I'm not scared of you."
"You're not scared of me," Derek said as he didn't break eye contact, and held up the phone. "You gave me the wrong phone."
"That was because I'm staring you down. I'm not intimidated." Stiles said, reaching in his pocket and breaking the joint stare. He dug out the other from his coat pocket and handed it to him. "My phone."
Derek shoved Stiles' phone into his chest, and then turned to look at his own. He glanced over his messages, and his eyes widened. "Give me your jeep keys."
"What?" Stiles asked, and Derek held out his hand. "No! Didn't you drive here?"
"I ran here," Derek held out his hand and demanded loudly, "Keys, now!"
"Ran? It's like-" Derek smacked him over the head lightly, and Scott pointed the iron rod at Derek.
"Dude, back o-" Derek grabbed the iron rod and threw that at the wall, which embedded itself from the force in the wall. Scott put up his hands instantly. "Stiles, give him your keys!"
"You're both going with me. Keys, now." Stiles rubbed his head as he reached in his other pocket, handing Derek the keys. They both walked out to the jeep. Before Stiles could close the back, Derek had reversed and was speeding down the street, weaving in and out of traffic.
"Careful!" Stiles advised, his hands contorting as he tried not punching Derek for almost rear-ending someone. "This is my only means of transportation! You know how much car repair costs? Oh god, we're driving on the wrong side of the road."
Derek ignored Stiles, veering off into the right lane of traffic. Scott pulled on Stiles' shirt, tugging him back in his seat. "Dude, your seat belt. Put it on. He's going eighty!"
"Can't you- goddamnit, he's ignoring me!" Stiles fell back into his seat and buckled it, staring at Derek. The man in the drivers' seat looked as if he were trembling from rage, so he didn't want to push him further. They sped on the back roads going ninety.
"Stiles..." Scott whispered, and Stiles looked at him. Scott pointed out the window at something. "Is that smoke?"
Stiles stared at the tree lining, and then his brow furrowed. "That's smoke. Derek, there's smoke coming from your house." Derek looked at the rear-view mirror to look at Stiles. Stiles pointed to the gas. "Go faster."
The brakes screeched as Derek stomped on the pedal a few feet from the house. The smoke was billowing out from the kitchen. "Derek, wait," Stiles said as the other threw open the door. The two teens hopped out of the vehicle. Derek was already walking in the house. "Derek! Shit, Scott." He looked at the house, which creaked from the creeping fire. There was yelling coming from the basement. But something else caught Stiles' eye- there was the baby, quiet as could be, sitting on the window seat on the second story of the house.
"He's going to go to the basement," Stiles said, throwing off his jacket. "The baby isn't making any noise. That fire is going to burn that kid alive." He threw his jacket at Scott, who panicked when he realized what Stiles was planning to do.
"Stiles, don't go," Scott said as Stiles walked over to his car, grabbing an old sock from the gym bag in the back and poured a half full bottle of water on it. "Stiles, you're going to choke on that smoke - it's everywhere-"
"Call my dad, Scott," Stiles gave him one last order as he put the drenched sock over his mouth and ran inside.
The fire hadn't reached the main gallery yet, and the stairs were still usable. He rushed up them, and then headed to the side of the house where he had seen the baby. The long hallway was dark - the lights had been cut. The only illumination he had was the room burning above the kitchen. "Luna," He yelled muffled through the wet sock, trying to find his way through the smoke. He ran his hand along the wall, bending so he didn't get a lot of smoke into his system. The haze was so thick he could barely see an inch ahead of him. He felt a doorknob finally, and he threw open the door. It wasn't the right room - no window seat.
"Damnit," He said out loud as he moved a bit quicker down the hall. He felt the next door knob, but he also noted the fire was creeping even faster, eating up the wood floor. He threw open the next door, and saw the tot sitting on the window seat, staring at him. At first, he didn't recognize her - in the window from the ground, she had been far enough away that he didn't see her face. Now that she was in a room that was a little foggy with gray smoke, he could see the abnormal amount of what looked like fur on her face - her hands especially. Fortunately, his instinct to save was stronger than his shock response. He made his way around a four post bed with damaged wood on it, and kicked a squeaky toy out of the way. Grabbing her by her middle, she growled loudly like a dog. "Shhh, baby." He said, thinking the smoke was making his imagination overactive. He moved her to his chest, supporting her with one hand. Her little hands dug into his shirt as he maneuvered through the room, the smoke billowing in from the hall. "Shit." He removed the sock from his mouth and put it over hers. Now without anything to filter the smoke from his mouth, he bolted into the hall and started towards the door.
His breathing became labored as he hit the doorway, and he cleared the hallway. The dizziness set in, but he held the baby fiercely as he made his way out. He didn't even feel the claws digging into his shirt, tearing it as she gripped the other in fear. "We're almost," He breathed, trying to calm her as he made his way down the steps. "The door." He coughed loudly, his eyes watering. Leaning on the banister, he started sliding down the steps, determined to make it to the door. It was so hot he couldn't even think.
"Itsokay," he blurted the words together to her as he got up again, mustering up what energy he had left from his depleted air supply. He gave one last effort of jogging towards the door, making it outside a few feet before the cold air overwhelmed him. Coughing, he fell to his knees and put the baby down on the ground, then fell over. He could hear Scott saying something as he ran up to him.
"Stiles, there's no signal out here, I can't get through. I hear the trucks, I hear them, hang on!"
He tried a failed attempt at motioning to his chest, but he couldn't convey that he couldn't breath. He watched as the blurry stars and branches over him faded to black as he lost consciousness.