burned ➷ stiles stilinski [1]

17. ultraviolence

listen to: about you - xxyyxx

italics means it's a flashback :)

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The late 1980s was a time for change. Rock n' roll was being taken over by synthesizers, video was killing the radio star, and neon was becoming the new black. The 80s was one of my favorite decades. And, I have to say, I certainly rocked the big, curly hair pretty damn well.

Anyway, back to the story.

The first memory I had of Deucalion was when I was volunteering at the fire department in New York. No one suspected anything; teenagers down where I was always dropped out of school to get jobs. It was one of the tactics I used in America: get a job in public services and meet the packs I was supposed to protect that way. It was a lot simpler back then.

I was on duty when there was a call that a car had started on fire on an abandoned road. It was small, so another volunteer and I went to go clean it up.

The volunteer I worked with was nice enough. Her name was Sasha. She was about twenty-five and was always curious about me; always asking questions about where I lived or why I didn't go to school. I think she knew I was different, but just didn't know how.

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We arrived at the scene in less than five minutes, and I was surprised to see the mess the van was in. Large flames erupted from the engine area, and the people inside were struggling to get out.

I stopped in my tracks once I picked up a scent other than burnt oil.

Werewolves.

"Should I get the Jaws of Life?" Sasha asked me, panic lacing her voice. But I didn't answer her, because I was already sprinting towards the van full of werewolves.

It was probably a stupid move, considering that Sasha was watching and all, but I did it anyway.

I walked through the fire, the flames sinking into my pores as I passed through them. I breathed in the smoke, enjoying the fire that I absorbed into my body. It was so refreshing.

Soon enough, the fire was completely gone, and was inside of me instead.

Grabbing hold of the car door, I yanked as hard as I could and threw it aside. People tumbled out of the van, coughing the smoke out of their lungs.

Once all of the wolves made it safely out of the van, I turned to the nearest one next to me. He wasn't coughing as much as the others, but he was still on all fours, shuddering as his skin healed minor burns.

I squatted down and tilted his chin up so he would look at me. My words got stuck in my throat when I saw his intriguing, light blue eyes. He looked to be around twenty, and was amazingly handsome.

I recovered myself quickly. "What is your name, wolf?"

He looked confused for a second, so I showed him my Phoenix eyes. The violet hue was especially bright now that I had absorbed the fire.

"What is your name?" I repeated, using the voice that had centuries of experience behind it.

"D-Deucalion. But you can call me Duke," he stammered, his eyebrows drawing in. His voice was laced with a thick, English accent. "Your eyes..."

I chuckled softly. "Not what you expected?" I stood, helping him up as well. "Well, Duke, where is your Alpha?"

He looked at me a little longer than normal, then pointed behind me.