Chapter 10- Into the Flames
Stiles couldn't keep still. He was riding shotgun in the Argent's SUV and even though the vehicle was traveling a good clip over the speed limit it still wasn't fast enough. Stiles alternated between bouncing his knees and drumming his fingers to obsessively checking the tracking app on his phone. Chris gave him a small smile that was meant to be comforting but Stiles couldn't seem to return it. His heart felt like it was literally in his throat.
They came to a screeching halt a block from the warehouse and Stiles stumbled from the vehicle while the rest of the group exited a bit more gracefully. Stiles brandished his weapon of choice, his baseball bat while the rest pulled on automatic weapons or extended their lethal claws. After a moment he decided to pull the flame thrower over his shoulder as a last resort. Everything he and Lydia could find that referenced fighting the faeries mentioned burning them. He wouldn't use it until he knew that everyone was safe and only if absolutely necessary. The Hale fire had influenced his view on that particular method. There wasn't much to discuss, they were simply to go in and make as much ruckus as possible so that the others could get to Malia and Finn, if they could take out a few faeries while they were at it then so be it.
Scott gripped his shoulder and gave him a one armed hug before moving forward to lead the group to the front entrance. He tried the knob first to find that the door was locked. A quick turn of his neck and Stiles could see Scott transform fully. He reared back and slammed his boot against the door causing it to tear away from the frame. The door fell heavily on to the hard floor breaking the silence of their approach. Before the dust had even fully settled Scott had disappeared inside and they followed without hesitating into the bowels of the massive factory.
They made their way into an open room that at one time must have been the factory floor but was now just a cavernous open space. In the center of the room a fire flickered in a crudely built pit. He couldn't see anyone nearby but he could feel their presence. Stiles pulled the small circular viewing stone from his pocket and placed it over his eye. What Stiles supposed was the faeries were standing in a circle around the flames. They stood tall and thin, their bodies and faces shrouded by long heavy cloaks that brushed the dirty floor.
His eyes narrowed in concentration trying to spot Malia but he couldn't see her. He was sure they'd be hiding her nearby. Scott spoke for the group his voice firm and confident, "Let Malia and the baby go. Now."
A collective snicker could be heard from under their hoods. It made the hair on Stiles's arms stand on end; the sound reminded him of the gleeful laughter of the nogitsune. He had a feeling that this is exactly what the faeries wanted, like they were playing right into their hands.
The group continued forward cautiously looking to Scott for a signal to move forward. The faeries didn't seem concerned with them until they crossed the lose circle they had around the fire, crossing that imaginary line seemed to be the faeries cue to move.
The wind began to whip around the room blowing ash , dirt and debris. The wind was so strong it began to pull at Stiles's clothes and what started as a rumble was soon a deafening roar. The fairies, when he could see them, were chanting as if calling forth some ancient power. It had to be how they were producing the wind.
He blinked as he tried to keep them in his sights, his eyes watered as the dirt hit him and it felt like he was standing inside a sand blaster. His exposed skin was quickly chapped and red. He pulled the side of his flannel over the front of his face to cover his mouth and his nose as best he could.
He could see Scott move forward attempting to shove down the first figure he came to but the figure dodged and sidestepped him as if he had all the time in the world. Chris attempted firing his gun at a figure but it seemed to disappear before their eyes and reappear elsewhere unharmed. If they hadn't been fighting against them to get Malia and his son he would have been more mesmerized by what he could only describe as magic.
And there they were. Out of the corner of his eye by a little jut in the wall was Malia. She still looked to be in labor so Fin had yet to be delivered, he could see Lydia reaching her side. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. His entire world was over by that wall and he had to do something.
So he did the dumbest thing he could think of, he yelled. "They are my family you can't have them." He dropped the bat at his feet and swung the flame thrower from the strap on his back. It took him a few tries to get his finger on the trigger and the delay proved costly.
He was knocked painfully from his feet and crashed to the ground several feet from where he had been standing. The roar started to dwindle and he could only hope it was because they were breaking their chant. He coughed painfully trying to get the air back into him that had been so brutally knocked out. He managed to finally stand and looked for an enemy that he could safely use the flame towards.
Finally spotting one he ignited the burner and felt the heat pour out in front of him. He knew he didn't have much fuel so he had to shoot wisely. He tried to look for Lydia and Malia and the other group but he couldn't see past the smoke and fire in front of him.
He hoped that he was causing enough of a distraction for the others to get Malia and Fin away before they noticed them missing. He hadn't even noticed that something had dislodged the invisibility of the fairies. He'd lost his stone when he'd be knocked across the room and he was still able to see them. He hoped that too was a good sign that they were causing damage.
Just as he was hoping things were going the right direction a hooded figure appeared before him. He barely was able to see it, he attempted to turn his flame thrower towards the figure but was smashed across the face. He could feel his cheek split open and blood poor from his mouth where he had bitten his tongue. He fell backwards which allowed the figure to advance upon him. Stiles shook his head trying to clear his vision. It looked like Malia and Lydia were gone, Kira had joined the fight and she and Scott were tag teaming another faerie and Chris was fighting his own. There were snarling werewolves battling everywhere. He fumbled to get a grip on the flame thrower but was kicked in the side. Stiles had the wind knocked out of him for the second time and he was fairly certain he'd just broken a rib or two.
He scrambled to his knees trying to crawl away from his enemy but was kicked in his back. His kidney had even felt the power behind the blow. His face was in the dirt but he wasn't going to give up. He had more of a reason than ever before to fight back and make it home. He had a son who needed his father. The hooded figure must have changed tactics because instead of bludgeoning him to death he felt a stinging whip sensation cut through the back his shirt that bit painfully into his skin.
He abandoned trying to stand and army crawled as fast as he could, the flame thrower scraping his stomach below. When he reached a spot clear of fighting creatures he rolled and grasped the flame thrower and prayed his fingers would find the ignition and it would light. Fate must have been with him because the flame thrower ignited on the first try just as the fairy was advancing down on him and he caught the full blast where his face would be. It made an inhumane shriek and tried to cover itself up with is arms but his entire cloak was ablaze. Stiles didn't let up. He knew if he didn't finish it the creature would finish him.
Stiles held onto the trigger sending hot flames to the creature and the second one that attempted to help the first one, and the third one that rushed over to it. Like moths to a flame, he thought. The fire was searing his skin, his own clothes felt close to igniting from his proximity to the flame. He held on blasting as many as he could gagging on the smoke and just when he thought he couldn't take the pain any further they seemed to disappear from view. Whether they were burned to ash or if they vanished of their own accord he couldn't be sure. The flame thrower sputtered out in front of him as he had consumed the last of the fuel.
He coughed and spit up thick mucus filled with ash, his whole body felt burned and raw, he had a hard time breathing both because of the smoke and ash and because his ribs protested with each inhale. He had blood and sweat dripping down him and he moved with the speed of an eighty year old man. But he was a live and that was something.
Scott was checking Kira over and Chris and Derek were talking as if trying to figure out what happened. "Malia? Lydia?" Stiles choked out as he stood shakily to his knees.
"They went outside; they were headed to the car when I came to help." Kira said as she came forward and gave him a steadying hand.
Stiles didn't wait. He limped and stumbled as best he could. Kira led him out the back door they had slipped through. They weren't in the alleyway and he started to panic. They made their way back behind the building headed toward Lydia's car.
He saw someone crouching beside the back door. "You have got this Malia. One more push and he'll be out." Stiles put his hand to his mouth to muffle the sound as he sobbed in relief. He nearly tipped Kira over as he tilted to the side but Scott came around the other side to help carry his weight.
They moved forward to see that Lydia was between Malia's legged, crouched and cradling Finley's head. Malia was screaming in the backseat of the car as Isaac held her in a semi seated position, it looked like she was breaking his hand. Lydia spared Stiles a glance and gave him a small smile as Malia gave another push.
Fin slid into her arms, all wet and covered in blood, he looked like a slimy baby doll. And then Fin let out an all mighty wail and Stiles could no longer stand, he leaned against the side of the car and his legs slid out from under him. He could hear Scott and Kira asking him if he was okay but all he could do was give them a tired nod.
He watched Lydia expertly tie the umbilical cord with string before delivering the placenta. She cut the cord and wrapped Finley in one of Stile's sweatshirts she must have had in the car. She cooed at Finley and he quieted down. She tried to offer the baby to Malia but she simply shook her head and sagged back against Isaac who was glad she was no longer mangling his hand.
Lydia scooted over to Stiles. "Hey, you want to meet your son?"
He nodded tiredly his eyes having trouble staying awake. Thankfully she didn't hand him over to him because Stiles could no longer move his arms, they felt like leaden weights. Instead he leaned his head down and kissed him on the forehead. "Hey there Finley, I'm your daddy." A tear slipped down his cheek followed quickly by another. "I love you buddy." He managed to bring his hand up and brush his cheek and the tiny infant nuzzled into his hand and gave a sigh of contentment as he drifted off to sleep. "Yeah buddy time for a nap. Daddy's going to take one too. Lydia will take care of you bud; you are in the best hands." Lydia gave him a huge grin.
Kira and Scott moved to Lydia's direction and he vaguely heard them arranging to pile him in the car and move everyone back to Scott's where Melissa was eagerly waiting for them. But that was all he remembered before he finally allowed himself to sink fully into the darkness.
They had done it. Finley and Malia were safe. And he was a dad. Lydia had delivered his son.