Stiles
Void has gone silent.
I feel terrible lying to my friends. Scott is watching my every move, like he doesn't quite believe. I can't blame him, I don't really believe myself. I'm working with the enemy; but only to keep them alive. Right? If I hadn't, Void would kill them all. He's killed too many already.
My choice is in Beacon Hills best interests.
Hopefully they will see that when the sun comes out.
But, I can't lie, part of me also liked the fact that I no longer need to depend on a baseball bat as my only source of defense.
Deaton said there would be one of three outcomes after injecting me with the wolf lichen: I would pass out like before, telling the pack that both Void and I were still in there; or nothing would happen, letting them know that I truly did kill the nogitsune. And the third option: if Void had managed to kill me instead, he would have started seizing.
But, unlike the last time they used Wolf Lichen on me, this time I was in control, not Void. With the fox spirit submerged in my mind, all the wolf lichen managed to do was put him to sleep. Instead of passing out physically, he just went quiet in my head.
Scott is staring at me, I meet his gaze, my eyes glassy with tears. He doesn't look away, narrowing his eyes as if he can sense my lies. In a way he can. I would hope he trusts me enough not to do so, and since I proved I'm me like three seconds ago, he has no reason to.
Yes, he does.
But none that he knows of.
"He's dead." I repeat myself, my own heartbeat steady, not a lie detected. Before, when Void and I were battling for control, I never got to feel his power. Now that we're not fighting, I can hear everything. The humming of mosquitos around the streetlight across the road, the clock ticking in the McCall's dinning room. I zero in on Scott, tuning my ears to the fast, scared pounding in his chest. No, not scared. Terrified. He's terrified.
Of me?
I cock my head, blinking as I try to figure out what it is that he's afraid of. Then, I realize that is isn't just Scott who's afraid. I can smell it. I can smell their fear. My gaze travels around the room, catching the confused, wide eyes of every member of Scotts pack.
They're all looking at me.
My mouth suddenly tastes like blood, I lift my hand up to my lips, bringing it back down to find red smeared on the back of my palm. It comes in and out of focus, blurring along with the floor beneath me as I begin to sway on my feet.
"Stiles?"
"I'm okay, I just- just-"
"Stiles?"
I'm on the floor before I realize I even fell, my own name echoing in my ears.
"Stiles?"
"Stiles? Can you hear me?"
"Stiles?"
"Open your eyes."
Scott
"Stiles?"
I find myself unable to move as I watch Stiles fall, he hits the ground, finally lying motionless on the floor of my living room. His eyes stay open, glassed over as if he were... no. No. He can't be. I listen for his heartbeat, but I hear nothing in his chest.
"Stiles? Can you hear me?" My Mom is at his side, two fingers placed gently over his throat. "Stiles?" Her voice grows frantic as she pushes his dark hair from his face. "Open your eyes sweetheart."
"Mom-" I start, not knowing what I'm going to say.
"Call 911." She orders me, anyone, trying to keep her tone calm. I freeze, staring at my best friend, the guilt I feel is unbearable as I stare at his sunken eyes, unable to meet my gaze. A slow, steady trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth, staining his lips. "Now!" My Mom yells, snapping me out of the reverie I was in. I can barely breath as I fiddle for my phone, my hands shaking as I struggle to dial the three digit number. He can't be. I just got him back. "Keys!" She barely glances up as she starts chest compressions. "Where are his keys?"
"Here!" Liam grabs a key fob from the kitchen counter, the metal jingling in his hand. "Here!"
"Go start the jeep. Now! Noah!" She snaps. Looking up at Stiles' father, determination lighting up her face. "Noah! Look at me. Take his legs, and Derek, help him bring Stiles out to the jeep." No one moves. "Now! Goddammit!"
"Mom?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "Is he going to be alright?" The silence in his chest is deafening.
"Jeep. Now." She says to me, her tone stern as she points to the driveway, moving out of the way for Derek and the Sheriff.
Lydia and Derek sit in the back with Stiles, neither looking as if they are present in their own minds, vacant. Besides the four of us, everyone stayed at the house. Waiting. Sheriff Stilinski's car is in front of us, driving as a police escort as we speed down the road, tiles squealing with every sharp turn.
The ride to the hospital is long - too long - and deadly quiet.
He's going to be alright.
He's going to be alright.
He can't be dead.
He's too young to die.
Paramedics are already waiting with a stretcher when we arrive, yelling orders as Stiles is wheeled into the elevator, limp. Only his father is allowed to follow beyond the front entrance, his hand gripping his sons even after the doors slide shut.
I take a seat, placing my head in my hands. The clock reads 3 a.m., but it means nothing to me. Minutes pass, hours, days, weeks, I loose track of time. Surely it's only been a few hours. My mother had followed the doctors to the emergency room, leaving Lydia, Derek and I in the front. None of us know what to do, what to think. It all happened so fast...
"Scott." Lydias voice comes from behind me. I spin around, inhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding, or for how long. She's staring at the computer screen behind he front reception desk, her face grave.
"What's wrong?"
"You know the deadpool?"
"Yeah?" I say, joining her.
"Look at this." She points to one of the names on the list, I squint to read it. Then I do a double take. That can't be right.
"50 million? Lydia, that's impossible." I stare at the price. "The Hale vault only had 117 million, and all the names add up to that number. Where is this extra 50 million coming from?"
"No, Scott. I don't care about where the money came from." She whispers. "Look at the name."
"Holly shit." I curse as I reread the name over and over again. "How?"
She raises her head, he heartbeat faltering at whatever it is she sees. "I don't know." She says quietly, nudging my arm. "But he might." She jerks her chin towards the elevator, I follow her gaze and standing within it's open doors, I find myself staring at the newest addition to the deadpool.
-
Mieczyslaw Stilinski - 50,000,000.
Stiles
"Scott?" My voice is weak, fable. He stares at me from behind the reception desk, him and Lydia both watching me with a sort of awe. I take a step forward, stumbling against the wall. Before I can register what's happening, Scott has his arm under mine, keeping me upright. "What happened?"
"You..." he pauses, searching my face for something that isn't there.
"Passed out? I know that. But why am I at the hospital?"
"Because- because you died, Stiles."
I scoff, placing one hand on the elevator door for support. "I'm being serious, Scott." I say as I let him help me to a chair. But he keeps a straight face. "Oh. Oh! You are being serious."
The elevator dings and the doors begin to slide open. "Scott... I'm-" I whip my head around to see Mrs. McCall appear behind them, her cheeks flushed and wet with tears. She stops mid-sentence when she sees me, her stride faltering as she trips over her own feet, barely catching herself on the doorframe. "Oh my God-"
I swear under my breath, realizing why she came down here. She came to tell him I died. I thought it was weird that I woke up in the morgue, now I know the reason. Someone's going to have a heart attack when they find my "body" missing. If I had known they thought I was dead, I wouldn't have just left without letting her know.
"Stiles- but you... how?" She steps closer, hesitant.
"Surprise?" I tell her, throwing up weak jazz hands. "I'm back."
We are back, Stiles.
Shut up you ignorant fox. Let me focus.
Mrs. McCall starts to look me over, checking my pulse, my temperature, all while she mutters under her breath. "How the Hell am I supposed to explain this, Stiles. It's not every day someone comes back from the dead. Well," her eyes narrow, "apparently everywhere other than Beacon Hills, that is."
I open my mouth to make a smart remark, but Void interrupts my thoughts. Room 17, Stiles. Find room 17.
"17." I repeat the number he urged into my mind. My eyes move to the closest door, room 4. I push past Scotts Mom just as she begins to roll my sleeve up, and I start walking towards the next door. Room 6.
"Stiles? What's wrong?" A voice asks from behind me, I ignore it.
Room 8.
Room 10.
I break into a half jog, half walk, following the rising numbers.
Room 16.
I spin around, finding myself facing the door labeled 17.
"Room 17." I say, my voice no more than a whisper.
Open it, Stiles.
I place my fingers around the handle, the metal cold under my palm. Just as I begin to press down, a hand grabs my wrist, their skin like fire on mine. I look up, finding Scott staring back at me. "What are you doing?" He asks, worried.
"Let go."
"No." He holds out a piece of paper, freshly printed. The deadpool. "Explain."
Open it. Now.
"Explain what?"
He points to a name. "This." I follow his finger to... my own name.
"That's impossible. Scott. I'm not supernatural." I almost laugh at the price. "And 50 million? The Hales only had 117 million, all the prices add up but that one. This can't be real." I tug on his grip. "Now let me go." Melissa and Lydia come up behind him, the latter looking over his shoulders to read the my name on the paper, stifling a small gasp. "I said let me go, Scott."
Hit him. Void demands.
"What? No." I say aloud, receiving strange looks from the three.
Then I will.
Before I can hold myself back, I feel my fist hit Scott's face with a deafening crack, he stumbles back, shocked and bleeding. He swears as he put a hand up to his lopsided nose, looking up at me with wide, almost angry eyes.
"I said, let me go." I growl.
Very good, Stiles.
Scott curses, snapping his nose back into place with a wince. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing. I'm- I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what's going on."
"Stiles?" Melissa says my name carefully. "Lets go back upstairs, okay? I need to run some tests, and your father deserves to know that his son isn't dead. You boys can settle this later, but for now, let's get you cleaned up and into a change of clothes." I look down to find myself still dressed from the lacrosse game, minus the bulky chest protector, which Void took off before killing Brett. The grey under armor shirt clings to my chest with sweat, dried blood staining the front.
I nod, not meeting Scotts watching eyes as I follow her back to the elevator, briefly glancing back at room 17 before coming to the end of the hallway.
You can't do that. I scold the fox spirit as I walk. You promised not to hurt them.
I needed to get into that room. But it doesn't matter anymore Stiles. He hisses. She's gone.
Who's gone? I ask, receiving no response. Void. Answer me.
No one. Just focus.
Tell me. Who was it? Your girlfriend or something? I joke, but he doesn't laugh.
Or something, Stiles. Just leave it.
The elevator chimes and Melissa and I step out onto the second floor, the first thing I see is my father, he sits on the floor, back against the wall with his head in his hands.
"Dad." I say, causing him to glance up.
"Stiles- oh my God." He's on his feet before I can say another word, puling me into a tight hug. I hesitate before returning the action. After a few seconds, he pulls away, studying my intently. "Stiles, God, I was so worried. Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Are you hurt? What happened? Can you-"
"Dad!" I cut him off. "Dad. I'm alright. I promise." Lies. "Can- can we just go home? Please?"
"Yes. Yes we can." He gives Melissa a small smile, squeezing my shoulder. "Thank you, so much."
"Technically, I'm supposed to make you stay until at least tomorrow morning, Stiles, but with everything you kids have been through tonight, I'll let you go. I'll have Scott stay with-"
"No!" I say too quickly. "I mean, he doesn't have to. It's fine- I'm fine."
"But-"
"Thank you Mrs. McCall, but really. I'm okay."
She pauses, pursing her lips. "You're just as stubborn as your father, you know that Stiles?"
I smile. "And so I've been told."
By the time my father and I make it home, the sun has started to rise over the horizon. Birds are singing in the trees as I flop down onto my bed, wincing over my aching mind and muscles. At least there is no school today.
You know, from the two dead kids in the boys change room.
My stomach turns at the thought. Not that I liked Brett, with what he did to Liam at the prep school, he is - was - probably one of my least favourite people. And that Violet girl was a literal hitman. But bullies or not, they were teenagers. Not even old enough to drink. And they died by my hand.
Our hand. Don't take all the credit.
I groan, stuffing my face into the pillows. "Can you just shut up for once?" I say out loud, my voice muffled. Just give me some peace and quiet before I decide to end it.
Touchy much.
How do you expect me to act? Welcoming? Last time we met, you killed one of my best friends. I pause. And Aiden. I have every right to be touchy.
He sighs. Good night, Stiles.
I can go to bed whenever I want. I snap. It's not like you're the one who needs it.
And who told you that?
"Am I wrong?" My voice comes out louder than intended and I wait from my Dad to burst in through the hallway. Well?
Yes. You are wrong. I need sleep, just like you. Now put your head back on the pillow before I make you.
Woah. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the Nemeton. Is poor little Void cranky because he was trapped in a jar for- ow!" Pain erupts behind my eyes, making my vision colorful and spotted with twinkling stars. What the heck was that for?
What? I didn't do anything.
"Liar." I mutter, sensing his smirk. "Big fat liar."