Beacon ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [1] EDITING

thirty four

"I have to meet with the medical examiner to figure out what happened to Jackson and I've got an APB out on Stiles. His jeep is still in the parking lot so that means," Sheriff sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion. Glancing away from us, it was apparent how lost he was amidst all the pressure to do his job well while also worrying about his son who had somehow disappeared. The sheriff's voice came out hoarse and wavering instead of assertive. "Hell, I don't know what that means. Look, if he answers his phone or any of you see him..."

"We'll call you," Isaac nodded, stopping a clearly distraught Sheriff from breaking down in front of him, Scott, and me.

The scene had cleared slightly, and paramedics were rolling Jackson's body bag into an ambulance not far off with Melissa McCall trailing behind, while the three of us stood like frozen statues on the field; shaken from how the past half an hour had unfolded.

"He's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something," Scott offered. "We'll find him."

Sheriff Stilinski clenched his jaw and nodded, his eyes flooded with worry.

"Yeah. I'll see you, okay?" he stuffed his hands into his pockets in a way that reminded me of Stiles, before turning from our group and dragging his feet over to where a few more officials were waiting impatiently.

Watching the sheriff walk out of hearing distance, I turned myself to face the two boys.

"He couldn't have gone far, right?" I flickered my gaze between them quickly.

I felt sick when I even considered anything horrible happening to Stiles like what happened with Jackson on the field. My stomach churned when I thought of the blood on his jersey. But Stiles had to be okay, he couldn't have gotten hurt or worse. I hadn't sensed anything. Although I wasn't feeling great, it wasn't the same feeling from the driveway at Lydia's party.

Right? I wondered to myself. 

It might've been bad but it couldn't be the worst possible scenario, not with Jackson already down. However, the uncertainty of it all made me want to throw up.

"You look pale," Isaac acknowledged.

"I always look pale."

"Paler than usual."

"Well, I'm sick to my stomach about all of this. Aren't you?" I snapped. "The longer Stiles is missing the greater chance that something bad is going to happen. You have to find him, okay? Y-You are going to find him. Those werewolf senses are meant for something."

"Yeah, we'll track him by scent. We both will," Isaac crossed his arms and looked over at the co-captain who had his eyes trained to the grass.

Not once had Scott looked me in the eye the whole time we had been standing there. Even when I confronted him about the situation, Isaac had done most of the talking to explain that Jackson had somehow transformed into the kanima partially and stabbed himself.

I huffed. "I know you've seen how Allison is right now, Scott. And I'm sorry but nothing I say gets through to her. She has to figure it out on her own -"

He glanced up at me.

"She's in a dark place and I promise I'm trying to help get her out of it. I want her back as much as you do, but since Mom..." my sentence trailed off and I fiddled with the ends of my sleeves. "Allison's just been out on a war path to find Derek, and she's not afraid to force people out of the way in the process and that includes you two."

"What did I do?" Isaac furrowed his eyebrows.

"You associated with Derek."

"But I'm not with him anymore," Isaac protested. "I'm on the run."