Stiles groaned as someone forced him down a staircase. It was dark; he couldn't see his captor, but it was safe to assume it had something to do with the supernatural.
"Ow," he grumbled. "Ow, ow, ow." They shoved him down the staircase, and he landed on the floor. Still in his lacrosse jersey and gear, he fumbled for the light switch, and turned it on to see Boyd and Erica, tied up by their wrists with duct tape over their mouth, trying to communicate something to him through the duct tape.
Stiles stared at the glassy-eyed duo in horror, as they stared at him. Erica's mascara had run all the way down her cheeks, and Boyd looked like he had been crying, too.
There was no doubt about it, now: Stiles had been kidnapped by the Argents.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"They're gonna meet with a medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson," Sheriff Stilinski informed Scott and Isaac, who was rubbing his shoulder after the fight with Gerard and his hunters (mostly his hunters). "I've got an APB out on Stiles - his Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means...aw, hell, I don't know what that means. If he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if either one of you see him - "
"We'll call you," Isaac told him.
"Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention, or something," Scott lied. "We'll find him."
"Yeah," exhaled the sheriff. "I'll see you." He walked away from the two boys.
"McCall," Coach approached him, "we need you on the team, okay? You know I can't put you on the field next season if you don't get your grades up!"
"Yeah, Coach," nodded Scott.
"I mean, I know I yell a lot, but it's not like I - I hate you guys! Well, I - I kind of hate Greenberg, but that's - that's different, it's - it's Greenberg." Coach sighed. "I'm just saying, we - I need you on the team. Get your grades back up."
"I will," Scott told him determinedly.
"I know," mumbled Coach, walking away into his office.
"Is that everyone?" Scott asked Isaac, once he'd left.
"I think so," Isaac said, and that was when he heard the ripping and tearing of metal. He turned around, eyes wide, to see Scott looking into Stiles' locker.
"You're gonna find him by scent?" he asked Scott, staring at the other beta.
"Yeah," Scott told him seriously, "we both are."
Isaac frowned, as Scott passed him a shoe. "How come you get a shirt, and I get a shoe?"
"Do you want to trade?" sighed Scott, holding out the shirt, and Isaac sighed.
"No, you can keep the shirt."
And then Derek appeared out of nowhere, like he always did. "We need to talk."
"All of us," added Peter, stepping out from the shower area, wearing a black trenchcoat.
"Holy shit," swore Scott.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"Shhhh," Stiles was trying to get Boyd and Erica to stop their muffled protests, as he attempted to untie them. He held a finger to his lips, and then went for the ties around their wrists.
The ties zapped his fingers, and Stiles quickly withdrew his hands. "Ah," he groaned, wincing in pain.
"They were trying to warn you," Gerard's amused voice rang from the staircase. "It's electrified."
Stiles stepped towards the geriatric psychopath. "What are you doing with them?"
"At the moment," Gerard glared at him, "just keeping them...comfortable. There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their alpha is too strong."
"Okay," Stiles swallowed. "So what're you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know, it's more like a stench! He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer, covered in fecal matter and urine." Derek could find me, too...if he even knows I'm missing.
"You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski," Gerard smirked. "Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend, bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?" He stalked up to Stiles, who tilted his head back.
"I think I might prefer more of a still-life, or landscape, you know," he told Gerard, before sighing. "Look, what are you, ninety? I could probably kick your ass up and down this room - "
Gerard slapped him across the face so hard that he hit the ground with a loud groan. Erica cried out. He moved over to Stiles' fallen body.
"Okay, wait, wait," Stiles protested, well aware that he'd underestimated Gerard. "Wait, please - "
Gerard simply continued punching Stiles in the face, holding him up with one hand by his lacrosse jersey.
Was it only a few hours ago, that the same jersey had made Stiles feel like a celebrity?
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"What the hell is this?" demanded Scott angrily.
"You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard the other night at the sheriff's station," Derek dodged the question.
Scott glared at Derek. "Okay, hold on! He threatened to kill my mom! And I had to get close to him, what was I supposed to do?"
"I'm gonna go with Scott on this one," reported Peter. "Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous."
"Shut up!" shouted Derek and Scott together; Peter rolled his eyes, but obeyed.
Isaac leaned in close to Scott, to whisper in his ear: "Who is he?"
"That's Peter, Derek's uncle. Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and then Derek slashed his throat," Scott told Isaac bitterly.
"Hi," waved Peter.
"That's good to know," swallowed Isaac.
"How is he alive?" demanded Scott.
"Look, the short version is, he knows how to stop Jackson!" started Derek, but Scott cut him off.
"Are you serious right now? You aren't even worried about finding Stiles?" asked Isaac incredulously.
Peter frowned, looking at the other three werewolves. "Why would Derek care about that pale, skinny, defenseless - " he noticed Derek's furious glare, and held up his hands in surrender. "All right, fine, I'm shutting up."
"Okay, why would we need to find Stiles?" demanded Derek.
"Because he's missing, which you would know if you had actually gone to his game! Which we won, by the way, because of him!" shouted Scott.
Derek went pale. "He's missing?"
"Yes, and while your offer to save Jackson is very helpful, Jackson's dead," added Isaac.
"What?" Derek stared at the two of them.
"Yeah, Jackson's dead, it just happened on the field," reported Scott.
Derek and Peter both glanced down at the floor worriedly.
"Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?" asked Isaac, glancing between the two of them.
"Because if Jackson is dead, it didn't just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen," Peter told the group.
"But why?" asked Derek, glancing at his uncle.
"Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out," Peter responded, taking a few steps forward. "And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly."
<<<<<<>>>>>>
Chris was about to knock on Allison's open bedroom door, when he saw Allison, the now seemingly ever-present angry look on her face and her arms crossed, already talking to Gerard inside of her bedroom.
"I saw the lights flicker," he said.
"Probably just one of our guests getting comfortable downstairs," Gerard told his son, before turning back to Allison. "Get some sleep, if you can. I get the feeling the next twenty-four hours are going to be eventful!"
Chris stopped him from leaving. "Are you going to tell me what happened at the game?" he demanded.
"Didn't you hear?" smirked Gerard. "We won."
"I meant Jackson," Chris referred to the casualty.
"So did I." Gerard walked out, and Chris headed towards his daughter.
"You need something?" Allison asked.
Chris sighed. "I want you to step aside and let us handle this."
Allison snorted. "You're kidding, right?"
"One of your friends is dead," Chris reminded her.
"Because of Derek," retorted Allison. "How do you think Jackson became that thing in the first place? Kate. Mom. Jackson."
"What about Scott?" Chris reminded Allison of her best friend. "What if he dies, too?"
"Since when did you care about Scott?" asked Allison, lowering her head.
Chris looked at his daughter. "I care about you."
"Really, Dad?" sighed Allison. "If you're going to start quoting from the top five things a parent should say to their child every day, why don't you start with 'I'm proud of you, because I am doing exactly what you wanted.'"
"No, Allison," Chris told her. "You're doing exactly what he wants. We all are."
Allison sat on her bed, near her pillow. "I'm tired and I just really want to pass out, okay?"
"Fine," Chris said.
"By the way, don't forget you owe me a new bow," Allison's head swiveled towards her father, in the midst of taking her shoes off. Chris picked up her crossbow.
He broke that, too. "And a new crossbow."
<<<<<<>>>>>>
Stiles walked up to his bedroom just in time to hear his father put down his phone, close his eyes and say, "Come on, Stiles, where the hell are you?"
"Right here," Stiles said tonelessly. His father saw his bloodied face and raced towards him. "It's okay. Dad? It's okay."
"Who did it?" demanded Sheriff Stilinski.
Stiles sighed. "It's okay, it was just a couple kids from the other team, you know, they were pissed about losing, and I was mouthing off, you know? Next thing I know, I was - "
"Who was it?" Sheriff Stilinski rephrased his question.
"Dad, I didn't even see them, really," Stiles insisted.
"I want descriptions!"
"Dad, come on, it's not even that bad!" protested Stiles.
"I'm calling that school, I am calling them, and I'm gonna pistol-whip these little bastards - " ranted Sheriff Stilinski.
"DAD!" shouted Stiles; his father finally turned to look at him. "I just - I said it was okay," Stiles sighed, which his father might have believed more, if his voice wasn't so broken.
"Gah," sighed Sheriff Stilinski, and pulled Stiles into a bear hug.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
Scott checked his phone. "Oh," he sighed with relief, "they found Stiles."
"I told you, I looked everywhere," Derek was talking to Peter; they were in the old Hale house, for some reason.
"Didn't look here," Peter smirked, pulling off one of the steps on the staircase and pulling out an old box. He blew dust off of the cover.
"What is that, a book?" demanded Derek.
Peter looked at his nephew incredulously. "No, it's a laptop. What century are you living in? A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones who keep records."
Scott's phone rang, and he picked up. "Hey, Mom, I can't talk right now."
"Yeah, well, I'm so freaked out that I can barely talk, either," Melissa responded from the other end.
"What's wrong?" asked Scott, frowning.
"Something, definitely something, I don't know what, but I think you're going to want to see this for yourself," Melissa said shakily.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
Somebody was knocking at Stiles' door. "Dad, I said I'm fine," he told the closed door. The knocking persisted, and Stiles got up, muttering, "Come on, Dad, how many times do I have to tell you - " he stopped talking at the sight of something he never thought he'd see.
Lydia Martin, standing in his bedroom doorway. Stiles internally groaned - of course, his father didn't know about Derek (probably for the best) and so he'd let Lydia up. He remembered what he'd said at the game, and sighed. She was still his friend.
"Hi," Lydia said.
"Hi," Stiles returned.
"Your father let me in," Lydia told him; Stiles had figured that much.
"He did? Oh, yeah, of course he did," muttered Stiles.
"What happened to your face?" asked Lydia, frowning at the large red graze Gerard had made.
"Oh, uh, yeah, it's nothing," Stiles shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine. Do you want to come in?" She looked troubled.
Lydia bit her lip, and then nodded. Her eyes glassed over with tears the minute she came into Stiles' room, and she said, "They won't let me see him. I'm supposed to give him something - he kept asking for it back." She held up a house key and stared at it, tears slipping down her cheeks.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"What's happening to him?" asked Scott, staring at Jackson's body, which was covered in slimy goo, almost like a cocoon.
"I was hoping you'd tell me!" exclaimed Melissa. "Is it bad?"
"It doesn't look good," admitted Isaac, and then Jackson twitched. "Ooh, ooh," he backed away from Jackson's body.
"Uh, Mom, could you zip it up, please?" asked Scott. Melissa gave him a Seriously? look, before sighing and muttering to herself, "Okay, okay, okay, here we go..." as she zipped Jackson's body bag up.
Jackson opened his mouth to reveal his sharp kanima teeth.
"Zip, Mom, zip!" urged Scott.
"Okay, uh, okay!" Melissa quickly hurried to zip the bag back up.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"Hey, sorry," Stiles held out a roll of toilet paper to Lydia, who was now sitting on his bed. "I didn't have any tissues, so, um..."
"It's fine," Lydia told him, taking some of the toilet paper and bringing it to her eyes. "God, I am such a mess." Stiles' phone dinged, and she held it out towards him. "You have seventeen missed messages from Scott."
Stiles sighed. "I know."
"Are you ignoring him?" Lydia asked, still dabbing at her eyes.
"No," Stiles mumbled. "No, not really."
"You used to have a really big crush on me," Lydia told him frankly. "I did see it, you know. But lately, you've...well, you don't go out of your way to try and impress me, anymore. Who's your new crush?" She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, don't tell me it's Erica."
Stiles laughed. "No, not Erica. You knew I had a crush on you?"
"Of course I did, Stiles. Everyone did. And I thought you could do better," shrugged Lydia. "Somebody with a heart as big as yours, and a brain almost as big as mine...I had only ever been mean to you."
"Lydia, you're amazing. I bet, if you just stopped pretending to be the Queen Bee around school, and you were actually nice to people, then you would be a truly outstanding person," Stiles told her. "And if you have to know, my new crush is Derek, but he...he hasn't even texted me once, to see if I'm okay. And I know Scott told him I was missing."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Well, Stiles, if there's one thing I learned from your hapless crush on me, it's that you can never stop fighting for the people you love. Ever."
Stiles' phone dinged again, and Lydia looked at the screen. "I think you're going to want to read this."
<<<<<<>>>>>>
Derek paced around Peter, who was sat down at his laptop. "They say he's in some kind of transparent casing, made from the venom coming out of his claws," he reported, on the phone with Scott and Isaac.
"That sounds sufficiently terrifying," Peter responded.
"They also say he's starting to move," added Derek.
"Okay, look, I think I found something," Peter said. "Looks like what you've seen from Jackson is just the kanima's...beta shape."
Derek leaned closer to the laptop. "Meaning what, it can turn into something bigger?"
Peter leaned away from the screen. "Bigger and badder."
"He's turning into that?" exclaimed Derek, staring at the picture onscreen. "That - has wings!"
"I can see that," Peter stated.
"Scott, bring him to us," Derek instructed the boys.
"Not sure if we have time for that," Scott told Derek over the phone.
"Look, somebody actually made an animation of it. Maybe it's less frightening if you..." Peter pressed play, and screeching filled the room. He slammed the laptop shut. "Nope. Not at all. We should probably meet them halfway."
"Scott, get him out of there now. Go now," instructed Derek.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"Wake up, sweetheart," Gerard cooed to Allison. "It's starting."
Allison turned to her grandfather and smiled.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"Wait, don't go," Scott, who was holding Jackson's head, instructed Isaac. "Okay, go, go, go, go, go." They began to move, and then Scott dropped Jackson's head. Isaac stared at him, and Scott was about to pick Jackson's head back up when a familiar car's headlights greeted Scott.
Am I about to be run over?
Again?
Both werewolves shielded their eyes from the headlights; the car parked, right in front of them, and then Argent walked out.
"You're alone," Scott noted.
"More than you know," Argent told them.
"What do you want?" asked Scott.
"We don't have much in common, Scott," Argent sighed, "but at the moment, we have a common enemy."
"That's why I'm trying to get him out of here," Scott told Argent.
"I didn't mean Jackson. Gerard has twisted his way into Allison's head, the same way he did with Kate. I'm losing her. And I know you're losing her, too."
"You're right," admitted Scott. "So can you trust me to fix this?"
Argent reluctantly nodded.
"Then can you let us go?" asked Scott.
"No." Argent said, and both Scott and Isaac looked up at the hunter, alarmed. "My car's faster," he explained, and they quickly loaded Jackson into Argent's car, and got in along with him.
<<<<<<>>>>>>
"Derek, we need Lydia," Peter reminded the alpha as Derek rushed out.
"There's no time!" exclaimed Derek, but Peter raised a finger, cutting him off.
"That's the problem. You're always rushing. And everybody knows that while a moving target is harder to hit, here we are racing right into Gerard's crosshairs," Peter told his nephew.
Derek turned around stubbornly. "If I get the chance to kill Jackson, I'm taking it," he told Peter.