˚ ༘ ✶ ₊ ˚. ི CHAPTER 17.
࿐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖᵉᵗᵉʳ'ˢ ᵖᵉᵖ ᵗᵃˡᵏˢ
"WAIT WAIT, DON'T SHOOT!" Stiles belts as the deputies around him all draw their guns at the commotion Parrish is causing. And at he enters the pen, glowing and shirt burned to a crisp, Stiles nearly stands in front of their guns. "Don't shoot! Stay back! Stay out of his way. Don't shoot! Peter— their guns!"
He kicks into gear, knowing he can't use his webs without his suit, not with all these cops around. Instead, he darts around Parrish and pounces from deputy to deputy, stealing and smacking loaded pistols out of their hands. His feet leap onto a desk,
elegantly diving across the station, even picking up a stapler and hurling it at another deputy rushing in from their office.
They're all unarmed within a minute, and Parrish makes his way through the station unopposed. Peter and Stiles look between each other, Stiles willing himself to ignore the dried tears in Peter's face. They both wished for a moment of peace, but the universe simply wasn't that kind. Peter steps off the desk in a fluid motion and matches his pace with Stiles as they follow Parrish into the lot.
Seeing the deputy drive away with coolers full of dead chimeras was not the highlight of their night.
"You need to get to Scott." Stiles admits, knowing it's the last thing Peter wants to do. "He needs to know. I'll wait for Theo, fill him in."
Peter turns abruptly. "What? I'm not— we're splitting up already?" His voice is almost a whine, afraid of where his head would go without Stiles to keep him grounded.
Stiles doesn't love the plan either, but this is plan that keeps Theo away from Peter and solves the communication issue they've been having. Peter can cross the entire town in ten minutes tops, they don't have time to wait around. "I know, I know. Just— Scott needs to know."
He's unfortunately right, they both know it.
"Pete... , you have to come back to me okay?" Stiles met the boys gaze, unable to let Peter go without saying what he been wanting to. "I can't— I can't handle you dying. Peter, I— I would lose my freaking mind."
Peter frowns, wishing Stiles didn't poison himself with thoughts like that. "I don't have to go, Stiles. We can wait for Theo together." Peter learned the hard way that he didn't have to be the hero all the time. It was okay to just be a teenager sometimes, to be selfish.
"No." Stiles forced out, every other fiber in his entire being wishing he could let Peter be right. Wishing that the difference between life and death wasn't ten minutes. "No— just— tell me right now that we're okay. Tell me that when this is all over— you and me are still... that we're still together."
Something to hold onto, something that Stiles can fight for.
But this wasn't a regular relationship. They weren't going through a rough patch because Stiles liked someone else's instagram post or Peter forgot an anniversary. This wasn't something you could fix with flowers and some chocolate. Peter had blood on his hands, self defense or not. "I want to feel better. I want to look and the mirror and like what I see. I won't put that on you."
Stoles grinned, knowing he could never put into words how he felt for the spider boy. "Peter Parker, you could never even fathom what it would take for me to turn my back on you."
"I need help, Stiles. I need real help, not practicing lacrosse and a ride in the Jeep."
Mental health was health, and Peter wasn't okay. No teenager should have to try and compartmentalize murder. He doesn't know how to handle it, no kid does. He can't fix this with adhd medication or an extra hour of sleep. Professional help, therapy, somewhere like Eichen that wasn't a literal crime scene.
Stiles shrugged, collecting Peter's hand into his, thumb rubbing along the slit that webbing comes from and a few other scars thst decorate him. "How long you think it'll take me to get my PhD in psychology? If I do it online?"
Peter smiles at the idea.
And it's exactly what Stiles needs in the moment, a light at the end of the tunnel. "There it is! My favorite million dollar smile."
"I'll come back, I promise." And he says it genuinely, slinging himself up to the tree above them, readying his feet for another jump.
Stiles stands below, the proudest smile on his face as he sees the light Peter Parker once was— shining through the cracks. The Peter he fell in love with, the one that stumbled in the hallway and drew new spider suit ideas in his chemistry notebooks. Even if things were bad and he felt stuck in a hurricane of chaos— Peter Parker was in the eye of the storm. Calm, collected, and beautiful.
"I love you, Pete."
Peter smiles softly, twisting upside down and sliding down a braid of webbing, lowering himself so his head was in line with Stiles'. He's always wanted to try this, and he wouldn't imagine it with anyone else. His feet stick to the web and his hands carefully lower Stiles' jaw.
When their lips finally touch, it's enough to cure Stiles of all his bad days. For just a moment, he gets to be a pure and unfiltered kind of happy. He's reminded of everything that Peter Parker truly is. Warm, gentle, loving, and perfect for him. They've spent months of their relationship learning how to kiss correctly, and they've finally figure it out.
Stiles' hands hold the sides of Peter's head, anxious to let him go. But when they finally do, there's a hazy look in both of their eyes. Stiles breaths out a laugh, a faint scent of mint mojito gum washing over Peter's senses. "Can't believe you're leaving after doing that."
Peter chuckles quietly. "I've always wanted to try it."
"Go get Scott, you nerd."
And it isn't long before Theo shows up, barely fifteen minutes of Stiles pacing the parking lot and talking to himself. As soon as the grey truck swerved into the gravel parking lot, Stiles is hand on the door handle and trying to jump in as fast as he can.
Theo climbs out, the wolf is looking for something, or someone. Looking around the parking lot with a slight frown. "Sorry, I got here as fast as I could."
Stiles doesn't care for small talk. "We gotta go. Now. Parrish has the bodies. Peter is already on the way and—"
Theo's brows furrow. "Peter isn't here?"
"No, come on, we gotta catch up with him."
He's disappointed, slightly angered by the absence. As if he'd planned for Peter to be there. Who could've guessed that after everything, Peter and Stiles would risk splitting up? "Okay, wait up— Stiles, wait."
Wait? Why would he wait. Time was wasting, and every second spent here was one Peter was alone with Goody-Two Shoes Scott McCall. He dug his brows in disbelief, "Parrish is out, and he's got the bodies. We've got to find Scott, and we've got to tell him—"
"Stiles!" Theo shouts, interrupting his rambling. "I don't think Scott wants to talk to either of you right now."
Stiles rolls his eyes, peeved at the fact that Theo knew about Peter and Donovan. "Yeah, thanks, I'm aware of that. It doesn't matter. He needs to know about this."
But Theo wasn't giving up. "Stiles! Scott doesn't want to see either of you." His anger is heavily fueled by the fact that both of them aren't here. He truly hadn't expected them to separate so quickly. He'd broken Peter down to nothing, torn his friends from him— why couldn't he shake Stiles off him? Why were they still so concrete?
Now Theo's persistence is suspicious, and Stiles doesn't have time for games. He steps away from the truck and confronts the wolf face to face, sizing him up. "I told you to stay away from Peter. Wanna see if that threat is empty or not?"
"Your dad was looking for you, Stiles. He found me instead."
That catches his attention. "Where is he?"
Theo takes in a breath, "I covered for Peter. This was taken care of. If Melissa didn't find it at the hospital..." Stiles blinks, knowing his wallet was one card short. One library card used to open the doors as Peter dragged him through the school running from a ravenous cannibal. A card with his real name on it. "Guess even the son of a cop can make mistakes."
"Did you hurt him?"
Theo avoids the question. "I never lied about why I came to Beacon Hills-- I'm here for a pack." He's viciously smug, Stiles desperate to tear that smirk right off. "I came for the Werecoyote, the one whose first instinct is to kill. I came for the Banshee, the girl surrounded by death. I came for the dark Kitsune... The Beta with anger issues... for the Spider-Man. I came for Void Stiles! That's the pack I want. Unfortunately, it doesn't include Scott."
Stiles' writhing silence feeds his ego.
"Your heartbeat's rising, Stiles. It's not because you're afraid. The Nogitsune is gone, but you've still got more blood on your hands than any of us. Except maybe little Pete though, right?"
He nearly growls aloud. "I'm about to get more."
Theo isn't afraid of Stiles, not this version of him. "I'll tell you where your dad is... if you promise not to help Scott."
Stiles doesn't have the self control Peter or Scott has, and he can't help himself. He balls his hand into a tight fist and hurls it at Theo's jaw. It's for doing this to his friends, for toying with his family, for everything. But maybe mostly— it's for even looking Peter Parker's direction.
It's like a drug to Theo. "There he is! That's Void Stiles! It felt good, didn't it?" He chuckles lowly, dangerously excited. It's his favorite trope, watching the ones who seem so good go dark. "We won't tell Scott... 'Cause you can't lose your best friend, right? Even though we both know you never needed him. You hate me now, but you'll get it eventually. This is the hard part... 'Cause you can't help Scott and save your dad's life."
It should've been harder to make the decision. But Stiles knows in a heartbeat who he'll choose.
"You've still got time, Stiles. You've still got time."
Halfway across town, things are going much better. Peter lands on his feet, but he stumbles a bit out of practice. He scuffs his shoes and his shoulder hits a brick wall, but he lands on his feet nonetheless. He jogs to the front door, hair on his arms raised and a gut feeling his only lead.
And surprisingly enough, instead of Scott, he finds Mason.
"Mason? What are you doing? What's going on?"
The freshman is throwing his body the school doors, locked for after hours. He's out of breath, eyes sullen and tired. He's cried not too long ago. "I have to get Liam, Hayden... she's dying. I can't— I can't get in."
As Peter steps up to the door, his movements halt at the rattling sound of a werewolf's roar echoing from the building. It's loud, it hurts Peter ears almost unbearably. Without Stiles around, it seemed his senses were searching for anything else to focus on. Unfortunately for Peter, it was the roar. His eyes widened, looking back at Mason wildly. "What is going on in there?!"
Mason barely heard it, human ears and all. "What? What are you talking about?"
Peter doesn't waste another second, his mind only being able to fathom the idea that the doctors were attacking one of the wolves. His arms tense as he grabbed the chains and the padlock, veins extruding as he yanks back, the links snapping like twigs and clattering to the concrete at Peter's feet.
Mason watches— confused. How many werewolves were there in this town? Peter Parker? Geeky, quiet, really bad at lacrosse? How in the world did he end up a wolf?
But Peter doesn't have time to answer any lingering questions, and tears the door open. sprinting as fast as his legs could possible carry him. His hands grab at wall corners to keep him steady as he follows the commotion to the library, leaving Mason in the dust. He braces himself, shoulder first and ramming into the double doors.
The door hinges bend, almost right off the wall. But the doors stay on— they'll not going to close correctly for a long time.
Peter's eyes scan the room, instantly finding a fully shifted Liam hovering on top of Scott, claws drawn and slashing at the alpha. His eyes widen, sneakers slipping on the cheap carpet and catapulting himself over the tables with his arms. His feet find the final table and launches himself into the air. Both hands stick out, two webs shooting out and latching to Liam's hands. He grunts as he lands on the stairs, arms ripping the beta off of Scott. Peter doesn't even try to give Liam a chance to calm down, instead throwing him across the few stairs and webbing his hands down.
Liam grunts, trying to thrash out of the binds, another roar tearing from his throat. Peter goes to Scott, quickly lugging him off the floor and letting him sit and lean against a bookshelf. "Scott? Hey— Scott, look at me. Come on, you're fine. It's not that bad... it's— oh my god... oh geez."
Mason finally catches up, "Liam? Liam!" He shouts, sprinting over to his friend, startled by the crazed look in his golden eyes. He puts the dots together hastily, Scott's bloody stare matching up with Liam's claws drenched in red. "Liam, what are you doing?"
Mason's voice pulls the golden color from Liam's eyes, resetting them to the steel blue. "Hayden... She's gone. Hayden died a few minutes ago. She's gone."
It falls quiet, Peter trying to focus on keeping Scott awake and not on the crushing fact that they lost yet another kid. Mason whips out his keys, sawing Liam free and letting the beta stumble out of the library. Peter sniffles, breaking the silence and looks to Mason, "Mason— help me. We need to get him... somewhere. We need to..."
Both boys lift Scott and hang him on their shoulders, Mason glancing at the tired wolf. "Scott... what happened?"
Out of breath, on deaths doorsteps, Scott barely speaks loud enough to hear. "It's the supermoon. It was just..."
"Bad timing."
All three boys lift their heavy heads, nothing more than agitated by the sight of Theo Raeken in front of them. He's everywhere and no where, always in the way. It's like they're pawns in his game and they don't even know what game their playing.
But Theo doesn't have the same calmness about his. He's ansty,
tweaking a bit it seems. "I mean, seriously? You couldn't have waited five minutes?" He grumbles, bounding towards the three of them and throwing Mason aside, Peter across the library and crashing into the shelves.
Scott narrows his eyes. "Because now you have to kill me yourself."
Peter senses it before Scott can even react, speed he's never reached before carrying him across the library and in front of his friend. A broken chair leg in Theo's hand, splintered and a perfect stake. Not even a sound comes out of Peter's mouth as he tries to protect Scott. But Peter has been out of practice too long.
The feeling of a wooden chair leg going through his abdomen is worse than anything he's ever felt. He can't physically feel his muscles trying to reform around it, trying to heal him. The blood is overwhelming, the feeling of it pushing through organs and skin, all the way through him and through Scott. Theo's wolf
strength is easily enough to push it through both of them, Peter slowing it down from completely demolishing Scott's spine.
Even Theo looks surprised.
Wounded from battle, Scott crumples to the ground and Mason not nearly strong enough to hold both teenagers up by himself. Peter only stumbles, either pure stupidity or bravery, he wants to face Theo. Someone he considered a friend, someone he cried to, someone he'd opened his soul to in his darkest moments. This didn't even seem like the same person.
Theo looked to almost regret what he'd done— almost. He covers it quickly, not it a million years imagined Peter would continue to protect the people who'd only hurt him. Why keep saving them? What did they do to deserve someone like Peter Parker? "You weren't supposed to be a part of this. I wanted to help you." Theo finally finds his words, waiting to see how long Peter can stay standing, the bottom of his shirt nearly drenched in his own blood.
Peter grunts, hand gripping the wooden stake firmly and pulling, the nauseating sound of it being pulled makes his stomach twist and turn. Squelching and gushing red, he nearly passes out as soon as the entire thing it removed. Theo watches, all he can do is watch.
It clattered to the carpeted floor, blood spraying their shoes and the hole in his shirt revealing the carnage that will take days to heal.
Shaky and exhausted, Peter finds the anger he felt when Donovan attacked Stiles. The overdue rage that Peter holds inside him, one he never lets out— it's boiling. "You wanted to use me." Peter spurs harshly, his eyes darkening in a way that frightens the Chimera— Theo never once thought he could ever be afraid of Peter. "Was any of it real? Anything you said?"
"I never lied. They don't deserve you Pete."
Peter curls his lips angrily, craning his head to the side before shaking it side to side and taking a daring step towards him. "They're not like you... they never will be." He whispered lowly,
knowing for a fact that Theo will never have the pack he really wants.
Unable to meet Peter's eyes, as if under the eyes of a holy being, someone who can smite him for his sins. "Because I'm a Chimera? Because I'm not a real werewolf?"
Peter shakes his head softly, weakening. "Because you're barely even human." He admits, no longer seeing any of the good he'd seen before. There wasn't hope, no longer a flickering light of hope for the chimera. "I was wrong about one thing. I don't wish it was me instead of Donovan."
Theo furrows his brows.
"I wish it was you."
His tone is bone chilling, and Theo isn't all the sure whether or not he's serious— so he bolts. He can't risk his entire plan being uprooted by a dorky kid who wear science shirts— and it almost was.
And thankfully, Peter doesn't chase him. He's done chasing people for the night. He turns to Scott, limping over to beside Mason as he tries to do some good. Trying to calm down,
trying to hear something other than his blood rushing through his ears. Anything.
He hears Mason's heart, it's panicked and worried.
He hears Theo's truck hurtling out of the parking lot.
He doesn't hear Scott. No heartbeat, no breathing, nothing at all. Peter painfully gets to his knees, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." He breathes out, fingers feeling three different spots for a pulse, his heart dropping each time he can't feel a thing. He drops his head to Scott's chest, feeling his eyes welling with tears. All the anger is gone, replaced instantaneously with the heavy weight of grief. Peter sits back on his behind, legs bent close to him as he scoots back almost afraid— like a kid hiding in a corner. His back hits a bookshelf, a headache forming as he tries to find a headbeat.
Mason watches worriedly. "He's not dead. He— he can't be dead." His voice falls to a whisper, looking back at Scott and half expecting to see the reassuring red of his alpha eyes. But their closed, almost peaceful.
Peter curls into a tight back, his spine digging into the wooden shelf and his abdomen screaming in searing pain. His headache feels like a hammer pounding his skull, a river of silent tears flowing freely as each second passes without a pulse.
He thought the good guys were supposed to win.
This doesn't feel like winning. It feels like the end, like the final beacon of hope has finally simmered out. All his time spent trying to justify Donovan— all to be responsible for yet another death. Scott McCall's blood is all over him, and he'll never be able to wash it off. Death surrounds him, and it takes from him like a curse hanging over his head.
He's killed Scott McCall.
The True Alpha was dead.
And Peter doesn't zone back in until Melissa McCall arrives. She's crying for her son, begging for something that should be impossible. She's watched her son die before and he's come back to life then, so she prays he can perform one more miracle.
She won't lose her son.
Peter barely lifts his head to meet her gaze when she looks at him, he won't look her in the eye. But his ears perk at the sound of her hands beating on Scott's chest, pumping and trying to revive his heart. On beat, humming and counting to herself, even mason is confused.
"What are you doing?" The freshman mumbles quietly.
"Bringing him back."
Mason shakes his head, discouraged. "But his... his heart... He... He hasn't had a pulse in over fifteen minutes. You can't bring back someone that's— "
"He's not someone— he's my son, and he's an Alpha." She booms, already exhausted from doing compressions and her dead sprint through the school. But it's a mother's instinct, a mother's adrenaline, she won't let herself stop. "— and he's too strong to die like this! Come on! Open your eyes and look at me, okay? Come on! Breathe, baby, breathe!"
Peter starts to cry again.
"He's too strong to die like this. Peter, do this, hard as you can." She orders, scaring both teenagers with the weight in her voice. Melissa doesn't give Peter an option to cry. "Peter! Now!"
Peter does as he told without another second of hesitation as he gets up from his ball, eyes empty and fresh tears falling onto Scott's blood drenched shirt. He crosses his shaky fingers, pumping on his heart as hard as he can. He hears a rib snap under his extraordinary strength, maybe another as he repeats Melissa's rhythm over and over again. Scott's name falls from his lips, not audible by anyone around him, pleas.
Melissa crawls to the other side of her son, opening his airway and begging. "You can do this. You're an Alpha. You're an Alpha. Come on, Scott... Roar. Come on! Come on, Scott! ROAR!"
And he does.
༺
Scott sits on the side of his bed, Peter pulling away and snapping the edge of the thread with his teeth as he finished. It's not clean or done by a professional surgeon, but until Scott can heal himself again it'll have to do.
It's been quiet in the room, both teenagers trying to process what they just gone through. Another round of trauma, guilt weighing down on them as they try and understand why bad things seemed to happen to good people. Why weren't they allowed to survive senior year like every other teenager? What higher being had cursed them with being responsible for the safety of Beacon Hills— and why?
"I lost." Scott mumbles quietly, Peter almost surprised he'd heard it at all.
Peter nods slowly, wrapping up the supplies Melissa had given him and sits beside the alpha gently. It was rarely ever just Scott and Peter, it was a refreshing change. Despite how much they'd done for the other, Stiles was always in the mix. It was what brought them both together— Stiles. "There's probably a life lesson there. Every leader suffers loss or something. I dunno."
"But this time, I lost everyone."
Peter pats the boys shoulder, "Not all of us."
Scott remembers the last time he'd seen Peter, the pouring rain and harsh words. He remembered the hurtful things he'd said, and never apologized for. Theo was a liar, and Scott had trusted a strange over Peter Parker. "Why did you come for me? After what I said? Why would you come back?"
"I wanted to help." Peter replied calmly. "All I've ever wanted to do was help."
Of course. It's Peter, the goody two shoes that waves at them every time their in the hall. It's the smiling kid who helps the ente pack with science homework, even the new members. It's the superhero who stays on the ground so he can help the little guys. "I should've believed you. I should've been there for you— like you're there for all of us." He turns to look at the boy, "Maybe you should be the alpha."
Peter chuckles a bit, liking the gentle feeling of bliss in comparison to the darkness that he'd been in recently. Not even a day ago was he walking in the middle of the road and begging to be hit. "Alright buddy, just— listen to me. You're a good leader, Scott. Do you remember when we met, right before that lacrosse game?"
Scott nods gently. Peter's voice was soothing, calmed his racing mind. The boy always had a way about him that made you feel warm on the inside, like everything was okay.
"You guys were the coolest people on the friggin' planet. I was so excited to be part of something bigger than me, to be a part of a friend group like that." Pete is smiling, reminiscent on the past. "You're not just a good friend though, I figured that out too. You're a good leader, you never lost hope. Even when we thought we had nothing... you gave us hope."
Scott can't believe he ever truly thought Peter was a cold blooded killer. Peter barely swore, there wasn't a ounce of malice to be seen. "You're good at the pep talks."
Peter laughs a bit, light and dry. "Stiles says that too."
"Have you heard from him?" Scott suddenly asked, wondering if Stiles knew of any of the events that had transpired so far. Scott wondered if Stiles was planning to wring out his neck for putting Peter in danger, for getting him nearly killed.
Peter sighs, shaking his head. "I know it sounds crazy— but I swear to god my phone grew legs and ran away." He rubbed his face anxiously, somehow more afraid of asking Aunt May for a new phone than of being killed by a power hungry teenager.
At the McCall home, Scott is cleaning up the nasty-looking matching chest wound he sustained when Theo killed him in his bathroom. It doesn't seem to be healing, devastated by everything that has happened in the last couple days, tries to trigger his healing better by transforming his eyes. However, his irises only glow red for a few brief seconds before fading away, and Scott becomes so frustrated that he roars at the top of his lungs and slams his bloody palms against the sink so hard that it rattles the plumbing. After taking a few calming breaths, Scott sighs and reaches for the gauze bandages in his medicine cabinet, which he hasn't needed to use since he became a werewolf. Peter rushed in, on his guard, only to find Scott alone.
He looks at the alpha sadly, before wordlessly taking the medical supplies and getting to work.
He finishes rather quickly and watches Scott find his clothes with a glazed look. Peter makes sure his makeshift stitches in Scott's torso are holding up decently before he pokes Scott's shoulder. "Hey, we're matching." He throws on a faux grin, showing his identical stan wound, except it's deeper than Scott's and looks nearly ten fold more painful. "I'm gonna shower and stitch this bad boy up— if that's alright. I've got a lot of blood on me and it's starting to pull my arm hair."
Scott pushes away the guilt and appreciates Peter's effort, nodding. "Yeah, go ahead. We'll meet Stiles at the hospital when you get out. We need to talk to him."
"I'll be quick."
Peter's time in the shower is mostly spent scrubbing. It's violent and harsh, his skin an angry red underneath the cloth now stained pink. He's trying to scrub the death off of him, the same anxiety looming over him like when he cleaned blood off of Stiles' face after the Jeep had been flipped.
And by the time he gets out, he's already saying something to Scott about Stiles, something about wondering if he had any of the Stilinski's teenagers shirts laying around. A new shirt would prevent any unnecessary panic over the stab wound, seeing as there were surprisingly bigger issues at hand.
But Scott doesn't respond. Peter hums, poking his head out of
the bathroom only to find the alpha collapsed onto the carpet, eyes flickered shut and unmoving.
He swears loudly, and isn't even dressed as he helps Scott
down the steps. He grunts, wincing as Scott weighs him down and puts pressure on the wound trying to heal, nearly stumbling down the steps completely. "Don't do this, Scott. Please don't do this to me. Come on, man, come on!" He whines, barely able to think far enough into the future to even think about how he's going to get to the hospital.
He's not Melissa. He can't help Scott anymore.
And suddenly— the front door opens. Guess you didn't rwlllt need locks when you have a werewolf living in the house. Retractable claws and fangs don't need a permit. And busting in, Deputy Parrish. "Wh— Scott? Peter... are you all right?"
Two teenage boys, two nasty looking injuries, and one is barely conscious. Definitely not what was planned.
Scott nods and lets go of Peter, trying to downplay his injuries
and stand on his own. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
Parrish is clearly unconvinced as he stares at the growing stain on Scott's shirt and a very stressed looking Peter Parker. "You're bleeding..."
Scott glances at his abdomen. "I was, Peter stitched it."
Peter frowns, still trying to keep Scott fully on his feet. "You ripped them Scott, we need to get him to a hospital."
Scott suddenly realizes that Parrish, who has never been seen at his house before until now, is standing in his hallway and takes advantage of the opportunity to change the subject away from his current state, knowing it can't be good. "Why are you here?"
Parrish sighs. "I need your help."
"With what?"
Still crouched in front of Scott, the deputy stands up and steps aside to reveal the still-catatonic Lydia, who is standing at the top of the staircase. Her head is lolling on her shoulder as she stares blankly at the floor, and its obvious by the sight of her that her body is only working on autopilot at this point. "With her..." He mumbles, still terrified at the state of these high schoolers. "I found her out in the woods..."
And Scott smells blood, narrowing his eyes to spot the mutilated fingernails on the girls hands, and Parrish's phone shows a picture of seven pointed star scratched into a rock she'd she'd been found. The two boys lean in only for a second before recognizing the shape.
"It's a badge. It's a Sheriff's badge."
Peter nods. "The Sheriffs badge. Sheriff Stilinski."
AUTHOR SPEAKS !
— scott and peter brotp
they gonna be besties :P
best friends have matching
stab wounds
anyways
we love our strong son pete
finally standing up for himself
spread love
— spidermandes