AJAR ϟ Stiles Mikaelson (BAMF/ TEEN WOLF)

XIII ϟ S A M U E L

⟜ ϟ ⟢

C H A P T E R T H I R T E E N : S A M U E L 

 STILES MIKAELSON' S MANOR⎮SAMUEL

"What in the hell was that!" Dean yelled, as his eyes widened comically. He drew his gun while I shrugged, shocked as well. I searched the darkness for his shadow before I slowly turned to face Dean, who continued to search his surroundings. I exhaled shutting my eyes, "It's why you have to kill me, if he doesn't have his true vessel he can't do whatever he plans to do," my fidgeting worsened as my fingers transitioned from rubbing together to running roughly through the sides of my hair. My fingers interlacing at the back of my head as I fought the urge to rampage through the streets.

"So it was a Demon?" Dean questioned, slowly lowering his gun, feeling that we were no longer in danger. I nodded slowly, chewing absentmindedly at my cheeks in worry- I didn't want to lose control, I never wanted to lose control.

"Yes, it is in my prophecy it seems-" I raised the red covered book with a snarl, "It was written before I was born by an anonymous prophet, and it repeats every millennium and I have no recollection of it as I am reborn every time. This demon does- every time it has remembered, which leads me to believe that he is impossibly strong, and one of the few beings that can move between worlds. Someone from the beginning of time."

Dean stared at me, his stubbornness being a attribute of his that I knew well, "I'm not going to kill you, we can beat this thing- just like every other demon my brother and I have defeated," Dean said, voicing his reasoning. I shook my head, my consciousness reaching forward to spit its own retaliation.

"It could be an archangel, Dean. Which would be incredibly difficult to defeat, if anything, impossible. I've thought this over, ever since I started hearing his damn voice. You have to find the last of the white oak tree, form a stake from its remnants. And kill me." I growled, grabbing his hand and holding it to my chest, he needed to feel the steady beat of my heart, and know that I needed this from him. 

"This tree, I've read about it. You and your sibling burnt the damn thing down to the ground when you were first turned. There's nothing left, Stiles," Dean responded, sighing in defeat. I shook my head, "We didn't burn all of it, I salvaged some of my own. I left it to one of the newcomers whom I compelled and who is believed to have founded Mystic Falls. We need to find it before one of my siblings does, before one of them destroys the last ounce of hope I have for this world's survival."

Dean stares at me, "There has to be another way, Stiles." 

I swallow, turning my head away from the hunter. "Don't give me hope," I whispered, never once meeting his eyes as I walked up the steps and into my bedroom. 

⟜ ϟ ⟢

SAME SAME⎮SAMUEL

"Stiles!" I groan, rolling through the remnants of blood bags, as the blood that remains leaks from the torn edge. I fall to the floor in a heap, blood drunk as I walk to the window. Tiredly, I raise my fist, smashing the glass without resistance before leaning, naked, through the gap. 

"Lydia, just because you're a Banshee, does not mean you can come to my house and scream at ungodly hours as such," I growled, my accent thickly covering my words as they slurred from my mouth. I fell forward, glass shards embedding themselves in my torso as gravity inflicted it's weight on my body and I plummeted to the floor- three stories down.