Witch Hunt (Stiles Stilinski)

Train Stations 137 and 146

To the nearest person, Stiles asked, "Do you know if anyone works here?"

"The following stops have been cancelled," Came a voice overhead, almost like it was trying to answer his question. Stiles looked as all the other occupants of the station snapped their heads over to the two boards in the middle of the room. "Hollatine, Batten, Bay Burry," The people had started to rise, walking to the corner of the room almost hypnotically. "Deer Ridge, Red Oak..."

"Excuse me," Stiles tried again, but no one was listening. "Do you know where those trains are going?"

"...Trenton, Anderson, King Springs." The intercom the man was speaking on clicked, and the train station was filled with only the noise of bustling people.

He walked closer to the crowd. "Excuse me, do you know what train this is? Does anyone know where this train is going? Excuse me, do you know what train this is?" Stiles was ignored, like he wasn't even there. All the people stopped just before the entrance of the tunnel. Directly above it was a sign reading To Trains. The silence was overwhelming, and the pit in Stiles's stomach was screaming that something was about to happen.

As per usual, Stiles's instincts were correct. A large gust of wind carried in dust and leaves to the station, and for a brief moment, Stiles thought it was June. His hopes were tarnished, as the distinct sound of a horse neighing close by sent everyone into a tizzy.

Everyone began clamoring for shelter against the Ghost Riders as they rode into the station. People scattered, staying low to the ground. Everyone except for Stiles, of course. He cluelessly stayed in plain sight, staring at the monster riding towards him, cracking a whip menacingly. He noticed a man fall off of the horse, the ropes binding him vanishing in a green smoke.

More Ghost Riders came in, kicking Stiles into high gear. His body catching up with his mind, he took large steps backwards as a horse quickly approached. Stiles realized he wasn't going to be fast enough just as somebody from the side yanked at the collar on his flannel. Before Stiles could even react, his back was slammed against a pillar roughly, and his mouth was gaping open in surprise as he looked up at a rather annoyed Peter Hale.

Mouth in a tight line, Peter spat through his teeth, "It had to be you."

                                             {+}

I'd run through the doors once more, groaning loudly in defeat when the numbers on the wall still said Train Station 146. I kicked an empty bench, ignoring the handful of glares sent my way from the other people stuck in this room. I retreated to my corner, which was surprisingly still empty, despite the fact that the Ghost Riders had been periodically adding more and more people to this station.

My head was in my hands, and my fingers pressed into my eyelids until the black in my vision danced with new stars. I sighed, feeling utterly useless just sitting and doing nothing. I'd been doing nothing for the past twelve hours, or so it felt.

"You know, you can get through those doors." I dragged my hands down my face slowly at the sound of his voice, stretching my eyelids and mouth with the tips of my fingers in a rather comical way. I turned and looked over to Chéroux, who once again appeared next to me.

My face nestled in my hands, elbows perched on my knees as I looked over to him. Monotonously, I asked, "Are you just here to appear whenever it suits you and not be very helpful?"

He adjusted his suit jacket, unbuttoning it so he could sit back. "On the contrary, I'm here to do the opposite. I'm a manifestation of your mind and magic, June Florence, what do you think I'm here to do?"