"I have to meet with the medical examiner to figure out what happened to Jackson and I've got an APB out on Stiles. His jeep is still in the parking lot so that means," Sheriff sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion. Glancing away from us, it was apparent how lost he was amidst all the pressure to do his job well while also worrying about his son who had somehow disappeared. The sheriff's voice came out hoarse and wavering instead of assertive. "Hell, I don't know what that means. Look, if he answers his phone or any of you see him..."
"We'll call you," Isaac nodded, stopping a clearly distraught Sheriff from breaking down in front of him, Scott, and me.
The scene had cleared slightly, and paramedics were rolling Jackson's body bag into an ambulance not far off with Melissa McCall trailing behind, while the three of us stood like frozen statues on the field; shaken from how the past half an hour had unfolded.
"He's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something," Scott offered. "We'll find him."
Sheriff Stilinski clenched his jaw and nodded, his eyes flooded with worry.
"Yeah. I'll see you, okay?" he stuffed his hands into his pockets in a way that reminded me of Stiles, before turning from our group and dragging his feet over to where a few more officials were waiting impatiently.
Watching the sheriff walk out of hearing distance, I turned myself to face the two boys.
"He couldn't have gone far, right?" I flickered my gaze between them quickly.
I felt sick when I even considered anything horrible happening to Stiles like what happened with Jackson on the field. My stomach churned when I thought of the blood on his jersey. But Stiles had to be okay, he couldn't have gotten hurt or worse. I hadn't sensed anything. Although I wasn't feeling great, it wasn't the same feeling from the driveway at Lydia's party.
Right? I wondered to myself.
It might've been bad but it couldn't be the worst possible scenario, not with Jackson already down. However, the uncertainty of it all made me want to throw up.
"You look pale," Isaac acknowledged.
"I always look pale."
"Paler than usual."
"Well, I'm sick to my stomach about all of this. Aren't you?" I snapped. "The longer Stiles is missing the greater chance that something bad is going to happen. You have to find him, okay? Y-You are going to find him. Those werewolf senses are meant for something."
"Yeah, we'll track him by scent. We both will," Isaac crossed his arms and looked over at the co-captain who had his eyes trained to the grass.
Not once had Scott looked me in the eye the whole time we had been standing there. Even when I confronted him about the situation, Isaac had done most of the talking to explain that Jackson had somehow transformed into the kanima partially and stabbed himself.
I huffed. "I know you've seen how Allison is right now, Scott. And I'm sorry but nothing I say gets through to her. She has to figure it out on her own -"
He glanced up at me.
"She's in a dark place and I promise I'm trying to help get her out of it. I want her back as much as you do, but since Mom..." my sentence trailed off and I fiddled with the ends of my sleeves. "Allison's just been out on a war path to find Derek, and she's not afraid to force people out of the way in the process and that includes you two."
"What did I do?" Isaac furrowed his eyebrows.
"You associated with Derek."
"But I'm not with him anymore," Isaac protested. "I'm on the run."
"Well she didn't take that as an exception with Boyd and Erica," I replied. Noticing Scott was still not able to meet my gaze, my shoulders fell. If we were going to have any luck in locating the lost boy we would need both werewolves at full attention. "Look, Stiles going missing has nothing to do with Allison. The important thing right now is to find him."
"And find out what the hell made Jackson stab himself."
"You mean who made Jackson stab himself," Scott corrected.
"Yes, just find Stiles. Please."
"We will," Isaac insisted before heading off in the direction of the school to catch a scent from Stiles' locker. With Scott right behind him, he paused only for a moment to turn his head over his shoulder and squint at me. "And you should find your grandfather."
My heartbeat pounded in my chest.
"Why?"
"Because he tried to slice me in half in the locker room at the end of the third quarter," the boy explained nonchalantly, before walking quickly out of sight with his mind set on tracking our missing person.
The gears in my mind clicked together.
I thought of where Gerard had disappeared to in the middle of the game, and why he was no longer standing menacingly on the sidelines. If he had managed to escape undetected, he could have easily taken someone with him.
Maybe I shouldn't have stuck around until the end of the game, or even until now. Maybe I should've been watching him the whole time instead of the players on the field.
Running to my car, I sped away from the school parking lot as fast as I could and drove back home with my pulse obnoxiously ringing in my ears.
When I opened our large front doors, I didn't bother announcing my arrival. Instead, I immediately stomped up the stairs and craned my neck into every room until I found all three of my family members tucked away in Allison's barren bedroom.
Gerard had his hand outstretched to rest on Allison's shoulder, who was peeling off her archery gloves. Dad stood miserably in the doorway.
"Eleanor," Gerard acknowledged my presence.
Pushing past my father, I headed straight towards the conniving, geriatric bastard who was a poor excuse for a grandfather. He should've always stayed the unimportant address sending us annual birthday cheques in the mail.
Shoving his arm to knock it off of my sister, I sneered directly in his face. "Where is he?"
"Ellie!" Allison's voice sounded offended by my actions against the man she had suddenly chosen as her role model, but I ignored her. Her choice to follow along with his plans had been offending enough already, so I didn't worry if the feeling was mutual.
"Where is he?" I repeated louder.
Gerard was staring back at me, amused.
"Who are you looking for, sweetheart?" he challenged.
"You know who I'm looking for," I seethed through my teeth. "Stiles. Stilinski."
He pretended to think for a moment. "Oh yes, is that the odd one? I heard he played a strong game tonight."
"WHERE IS HE?" I shouted, advancing towards my grandfather, only to be cut off by a strong hand grabbing my upper arm and pulling me backwards harshly. My father's hands were built like shackles.
"Eleanor, don't -" Dad scolded me as if that would have any affect on the situation, but Gerard stopped him.
"No, don't stop her," his eyes were wild. "She finally has a fire lit inside of her! Where was this the past few days while you've been rejecting your role as a leader in this family and hiding away from your responsibilities underneath the protection of your duvet and personal affections? This life does not stop for anyone, my dear. As much as I admire it, I suggest you save this passion for later and try to get some sleep if you can. I have a feeling the next twenty four hours are going to be eventful."
I pushed air out through my nose to release frustration, unable to move under my father's grip. "Oh shut up, I am not -"
Suddenly, the lightbulbs in Allison's bedroom flickered and hummed as if undergoing a surge of electricity which caused us all to freeze and glance up at the fixtures. All of us were startled except for Gerard.
"What was that?" Dad asked skeptically.
Gerard shrugged, a sly grin on his face. "Probably just one of our guests getting comfortable."
"Guests?" I shouted, my eyes widening. "What's going on? You mean he's here?"
"Sweetheart, if you're going to be like this we really can't tell you much," he hummed. "See if you aren't with us, you're against us."
I had heard my grandfather say the exact same thing the night he told his henchmen and Allison that it was alright to proceed with firing guns and smoke bombs into the Sheriff's Station even though I might've been inside.
At this comment, I ripped out from my father's hold.
However, instead of leaping at Gerard as part of me wished for, I immediately turned and ran out of the room to find where our 'guests' might be staying.
"Eleanor!" Dad called, only to have Gerard's voice echo after him.
"Let her go, she won't be able to free them herself."
I ran faster.
Just as I was nearing the door to our basement, the familiar restraint returned to my arm and pulled me away from the knob, causing me to lash out in annoyance.
"Eleanor, wait."
"No, Dad! I'm done waiting," I shook my head at him furiously. "I don't know how you can stand up there with him, knowing you aren't doing the right thing. Knowing you are supporting a man who thinks it's alright to kidnap innocent teenagers. You disgust me, now let go."
I squirmed out of his grip and launched myself at the doorknob, but when I cranked on it the piece barely budged.
"Eleanor -"
"So that's it? There's nothing I can do?" I stepped back. "It's locked?"
"Eleanor -"
"WHAT, DAD? WHAT?"
"There is something you can do. That we both can do," he sighed and glanced over his shoulder - up the stairs to Allison's bedroom entrance. "We have to get her back."
"How? Because of you two, she's gone too far."
"Listen, I'm not proud of this either," Dad looked at me sternly. "It has taken me longer than I'd like to admit to figure out the truth of reality, but this isn't because of me. It's because of Gerard."
"I know."
"He has gotten in her head just like he got into my sister's. I could never get Kate back, and I - I need Allison. We need to get her back."
Taking a breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key; walking back over to the door.
"What are you doing?" I mumbled in disbelief.
He answered me over his shoulder. "Trying to do the right thing -"
Sliding the key into the lock, he clicked the door open before turning around.
"Gerard just sent Stiles home before you got here, he should be at his place by now."
A temporary feeling of relief bubbled in my chest, but I was weighted down by the thought of what Gerard or his men could've done before I got home.
"And the other two?" I asked, assuming Boyd and Erica were also considered Gerard's guests and would've been the reason for the electricity to malfunction. "What are you going to do for them?"
"I'm going to do my best to solve this, alright? Just go, before Gerard finds out what I told you."
As the basement door creaked open and my dad stepped down the dark staircase, I whipped around and frantically grabbed my keys before heading back out for my car again.
I probably broke several driving safety laws on my journey towards the Stilinski household, but I wasn't thinking about whether or not I was speeding or disregarding too many road signs. I was pouring all of my focus into thinking about the boy who had been taken by my own grandfather after an innocent lacrosse game.
I nearly tripped over my own feet as I stumbled towards the door.
Knocking rapidly, it wasn't long before Sheriff greeted me with a phone in his hands.
"Eleanor," he raised his eyebrows "Stiles just came home, I was about to call you and Scott. Come in."
Following his directions, I shuffled inside and kicked off my shoes at the side of the door. I ran my sock-covered right foot over the top of my left anxiously and tried not to stare too long at the pictures lining the walls depicting Stiles as a little kid, or the small family portrait including a dark haired woman which I assumed was his mother.
The Stilinski house was warm, from the colours of the walls to the thermostat temperature itself, and I felt odd being in the unfamiliar surroundings, but it felt comfortable. It suited the Stilinskis.
My eyes flickered up the short staircase that started in the entryway, desperately wanting to see if Stiles was alright or just to see him in general.
"Is he okay?"
Sheriff sighed and lifted his shoulders half-heartedly in a shrug. Noticing the fact that I couldn't stand still, he motioned up the stairs. "You can go see for yourself. Second door on the right. I should call Scott and let him know, anyway."
I nodded gratefully, but the moment the sheriff was around the corner in the kitchen and dialing his phone, my stomach knotted together in anxiety and pulled even tighter with each stair I climbed up to the second floor.
Holding on to the banister to stay balanced, I was nervous about Stiles' well-being but I was also incredibly nervous to be in his space. Especially his bedroom.
Closing my hand into a fist, I took a deep breath and lifted my arm up to wrap softly against the door.
"Dad," the familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door, muffled through the wall. "I said I'm fine."
I seemed to have temporarily lost my voice or one loud enough to reach him through the barrier, so I simply knocked again.
"Dad!" The voice echoed and grew louder with each word, causing my heartbeat to pound rapidly at the notion of him coming closer to the door. "How many times do I have to-"
His sentence dropped when he swung open his bedroom door and his soft eyes jolted awake in surprise to see me on the other side of it.
"Eleanor," he stuttered. "Um, hi. Come in."
"Your Dad told me I could come up," my voice came out quietly as I was too busy examining Stiles' face and the marks running across it.
My stomach and jaw simultaneously dropped when I noticed a large red gash spread across his cheekbone and another cut on the edge of his lip.
"Stiles-" I whispered. "Your face..."
"It's nothing," he shook his head and closed the door behind us, walking over to take a seat on his bed and clasping his hands together.
"It's not nothing."
"It is," he insisted as I sat down on the monochrome bedding beside him. "I'm fine, really."
"Your not fine," I hushed and reached out carefully to softly run my thumb just below the reddened wound on his cheek. "And my family did this. It's my fault-"
"It's not your fault."
"It is! I-"
"STOP, EL! I'm fine, okay?!" the jump in Stiles' voice level made me jolt back. Frowning, I looked at my hands and failed to keep my eyes from burning. "It's working! His entire plan is working! Do you seriously believe that this was meant to hurt me?! Your grandfather doesn't give a damn about me. He only did this to hurt the people I care about. You, my dad, Scott, don't you get it? It's a power thing. And he knew the fact that I was indirectly hurting people with whatever happened to me, would hurt me more than the few punches themselves."
Stiles let out a sigh from beside me when he noticed my demeanor and realized the extremity of his outburst.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled," he whispered.
"I'm supposed to be the one apologizing. It's because of my family that you had to go through any of this. Why we all had to go through this," I shook my head. "I'm assuming you heard about Jackson?"
"My Dad told me," he nodded. After pausing for a moment, he exhaled and moved himself closer to me so that our thighs were touching and took a hold of one of my hands in both of his; waiting yet another minute before speaking up again. "You can't choose your family, Eleanor. But you can make your own decisions about whether or not you agree with them and you said you aren't with them, right?"
"I think I've made that pretty clear to them," I nodded.
He nudged my leg. "You were pretty bad-ass at the station the other night. I knew you were going through a lot and all I could really do was lay paralyzed so I felt kind of helpless, but you didn't even seem like you needed my help. I didn't know you could fight like that. Well, I guess I knew but I'd just never seen it before."
"Do you think I killed him? Matt?" I whispered, keeping my eyes trained on our hands.
"No, I saw you. You just shot him in the shoulder."
"But that doesn't mean anything, right? If he lost enough blood from the wound..."
"El, you can't hold yourself accountable for everything," he spoke as I could feel him subconsciously massaging the palm of my hand with his thumbs instead of fidgeting. "Besides, my dad said he died by oxygen deprivation. He drowned in the river water his body was found in."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Oh."
"None of this is your fault, alright? This whole time you've been trying to do the right thing. We all have."
"Sometimes I don't know what the right thing is," I mumbled, glancing up at Stiles' hazel eyes already studying me. "Times like tonight or right now, it's been obvious. But at the same time I just feel like I'm constantly unsure of everything."
"Like your family?"
"Yeah. I want to support my dad and Allison but I can't with the way things have been. I don't know if the right thing is to be with them or not, or who I'm 'with' at all really," I blinked a few times and shook my head in exasperation. "It used to be a clear pack of us, you know? I used to be sure of who I was meant to trust and support. But even Scott's been standoffish now since he has more to worry about and I'm just associated with the out of control warrior my sister has become. I still want to be there for Lydia because we're actually going through similar things, but I don't know how much of this stuff I'm supposed to tell her. I really wish it was easier, but all I'm sure of at this point is that I'm with you."
Stiles went silent for a few seconds and smiled. "Like with me or with me with me?"
A grin revealed itself on my face as I scoffed.
"I'm just saying," he chuckled. "If I didn't know any better - which I usually don't - I'd think maybe you kind of like me."
"No, I actually hate you. That's why I dragged my ass out of bed just to watch you play lacrosse, and why I lost my mind when you went missing, and why I should've gotten a speeding ticket driving over here just because I needed to make sure you were okay."
He let out a loud laugh at my sarcasm and the sound made me smile.
"That makes perfect sense," he mumbled with a soft grin. "In that case I hate you too. Which explains my constant burning desire to be with you at all times. Probably why I spend so much time doing everything I can just to get you smiling."
His grip broke away from mine and he pulled himself closer to me, moving one hand around my waist and lifting the other to rest gently on the edge of my cheek. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and his skin was colder than I expected, but my face compensated for it by burning brightly against the palm of his hand in a rush of shyness when I noticed Stiles' lips were just barely five inches from mine.
Four inches. Three inches.
"I'm with you, Stiles," I whispered, my breath caught in my throat.
Two inches.
"And I'm with you."
One.
I closed my eyes and Stiles' lips found mine, making me feel like I could float up from his bedspread at any moment if his hand wasn't anchoring me down by pulling me into him tightly and if my own wasn't moving itself up his chest, to his collarbone, and resting at his neck while the other touched his jaw.
His lips were soft as my back curved with his hands into his chest and we navigated a rhythm that we hadn't settled on yet; constantly breathless and taking quick pauses to rest our foreheads together and gasp for air.
The anxious knot in my stomach fell loose as my mind went to every place his skin ignited a tiny fire on mine: my hips, the small of my back, my neck, my jaw, and my lips.
His kiss tasted slightly of peppermint but also, alarmingly, of blood.
I pulled away, breathing heavily, and opened my eyes just to watch him keep his closed for a moment before he smiled widely and they fluttered open. His caramel coloured gaze was rich, and captivating, and never-ending.
"Your lip," I mumbled, looking at the cut at the edge of his mouth that had reopened and was beginning to bleed again.
Touching his fingers to the wound, he pulled them back and inspected the fresh blood that had transferred onto his skin before shrugging.
"No, no, it's fine," he shook his head and leaned back into me. "It's actually better than fine. It's amazing."
"Stiles," I warned, laughing.
"What?"
"You really should get something on that."
He just kept moving closer, with a beaming grin on his face. "I should, shouldn't I?"
"Maybe later," I smiled.
"Definitely later."
Suddenly, we were interrupted by the sound of Stiles' phone buzzing from his side-table.
"Is that Scott?" I asked, as he reached over to grab the cellphone and unlock it to read through a jumble of notifications and messages.
"Yeah," his face had fallen. "And you might wanna read this."
I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned over while Stiles tilted the screen towards me. Together, we read through the concise paragraph his best friend had sent over describing Jackson's state.
Apparently, something had gone wrong at the hospital and he had begun to move and surround himself in a clear casing made from his own venom. Instead of dying, Jackson kept springing back to life, but he wasn't completely coherent and was showing signs of becoming an even worse model of the kanima monster to fulfill the next phase of his transformation.
"I didn't even know there was a second phase," Stiles groaned.
I bit my lip anxiously. "Neither did I."
Scott proceeded to explain that he had enlisted the help of Isaac, Derek, Peter, and Chris - my father. The boys were bringing Jackson's body out to Derek to see if he could save him.
My eyes widened at the screen.
"Wait, did I just read that right?" I looked at Stiles in a panic. "Isaac, Derek, Chris, and... and..."
"Peter."
I had the sudden urge to throw up.
"H-How could that happen? How is he even alive? C-Can they do that?"
"Can werewolves come back to life? I have no idea," Stiles' face mirrored my look of worry.
"I can't believe this!" I cried out, standing up from the bed only to have Stiles follow right after me. "I thought after everything we've been through, Peter Hale was the one problem we had actually solved. He was the one thing that was handled."
My chest heaved up and down violently as my mind raced with what Scott had implied. Peter Hale, the man who killed my aunt and who had the ability to kill even more of us, the man who gave Lydia the bite which threatened her sanity, the man who had gotten his throat savagely ripped out was alive and trying to help Scott McCall.
The last text message was a location.
"Oh my God," I tried my best to breathe normally. "Everything just got worse. A lot worse."
"Jackson's evolving and Peter's alive," Stiles rubbed his forehead. "And an hour ago they were both supposedly dead."
"So what are we supposed to do? W-What should we do? We have to help."
"You've got some guns and arrows but they're all back at your house where your evil grandfather is probably waiting to shoot them at you for going against him," Stiles exclaimed. "I don't know. What can we do? We want to find Scott but wouldn't that be risking running into Gerard or even Allison?"
I exhaled heavily and shrugged. "We have to do something. But I think we should get Lydia first."
"What?" Stiles furrowed his eyebrows with confusion. "Why would we get Lydia involved in all of this?"
"Because she knows Jackson better than anyone. Wouldn't Lydia be enough to bring the human side out of him? Human love is powerful, right? Maybe the way through to Jackson is a connection to someone he knew when he was human."
"His anchor," Stiles agreed. "Scott was telling me that all werewolves have them to keep in control of their abilities and transformations. Maybe the same goes for all supernatural creatures?"
I nodded. "We could definitely try. Besides, if Peter is back I need to make sure Lydia stays safe and informed."
"Informed? You mean tell her about everything?"
"Lydia isn't stupid, she probably already knows more about this stuff than we think she does. Either way, maybe it's time she knew," I crossed my arms over my chest.
He fidgeted nervously. "Really? Aren't we just running straight into danger here?"
"Stiles," I hushed. Stepping towards him again, I reached out and linked our hands. "Whatever we're doing, we're doing it together."
"Okay. I just don't want to be the reason that you get hurt."
I smirked. "This is where I'm supposed to tell you that I can take care of myself."
He chuckled and flickered his gaze down to the floor before looking up to meet mine again.
"I know you can. I just never want to feel that useless feeling I got when I couldn't move at the station and all I could do was lay there and watch you get attacked by that thing."
"You aren't useless, Stiles," I assured him. "We can do this, okay? Or we can at least try our best."
He sighed, breaking into a grin and shaking his head. "Okay. But only because I hate you."
I smiled.
"I hate you too."
"Good," he laughed, squeezing my hand. "I'll drive."
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a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
FINALLY!!!!
I am truly sorry for forcing you all to wait this long to finally get a steleanor kiss but I really wanted to make sure this book was about Eleanor in her entirety and not just about her love life. I wanted to build a strong female character with her own story, her own successes, and her own struggles. Besides, I love me a slow burning romance and thought it might get boring if they were together already in the first few chapters of the book. (plus some of you had to wait three seasons for a stydia kiss so you should be used to it lol)
I love you people so much and I hope you enjoyed this chapter even though it took me forever to upload bc i just couldn't figure out an ending bit (i still don't really like how i closed this chapter but oh well maybe i will fix it in editing haha)
thank you for reading and i will see you next chapter <3
p.s. do you like the gif? i made it myself ;)