'glen capri'

"I've seen worse," Scott tried to remain optimistic as Stiles and Harper clambered off of the bus behind him.

"Where have you seen worse?" Stiles retorted, his face scrunched up in disgust as he looked at the motel in front of them.

It was shabby, to say the least. What looked like it was once a vibrant, thriving, small motel, was now a dark, deserted, disgusting place. You could tell just from the outside that it wasn't going to be much better on the in. Harper just hoped that the bed she slept in wouldn't be too bad.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle from where he had been stood in front of the crowd of teenagers, who were all muttering about the place they were being forced to stay in. Not a single person was excited, that was for sure.

"Listen up," he called, "the meet's been pushed till tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yoursleves," he lifted a handful of keys into the air, "you'll be pairing up. Choose wisely."

Harper winced when Lydia, Allison, and Stiles all looked at her, silently claiming her as their own roommate. She took one of the keys from Coach's hand, Stiles right behind her.

"And I'll have no sexual preversions perpetrated by you little deviants," he yelled, before pointing between the two teenagers, "you got that? Keep your dirty little hands, to your dirty little selves!"

Scott snickered from beside the couple, "that won't be a problem for them, Coach," he teased, recalling how Stiles had announced how he was still a virgin just a week ago.

Harper felt her face go red as she bit her lip and Stiles smirked slightly, also recalling the passionate night they had spent with each other just yesterday. Scott looked between them both, his smile falling and a look of disbelief crossing his features when he realised that he was wrong.

"Oh my god," Scott grinned, "when? Why didn't you tell me?"

The Empath groaned, "yesterday. And we didn't tell you because your wound kind of inturrupted us."

Scott chuckled proudly, "I think I should win cock blocker of the year award."

Stiles rolled his eyes, not finding the situation funny, "yeah, yeah," he put his hand on Scott's shoulder, gently shoving him in the direction of the hotel.

...

"All right, so I have five," Stiles held up five fingers as he lay on the bed beside Harper, Scott on the single bed beside them facing up to the yellow ceiling.

The werewolf turned to look at him in disbelief, "five?" He repeated, "you have five suspects?"

"Yeah, it was originally ten," Stiles replied, "well, nine, technically, I guess, I had Derek on there twice."

"And who's number one? Harris?" Harper asked, fiddling with her hair as she watched what looked like was a bug fly around in the light shade on the ceiling, it's shadow bouncing off of the old material.

"Just because he's missing doesn't mean he's dead," Stiles reminded her.

Scott frowned, "so if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices."

Harper turned to face Stiles, raising an eyebrow at him as she waited for his response.

"Yeah, I guess that just sounded way better in my head," the Stilinski boy sighed.

"What if it's somebody else from school?" Harper guessed.

Scott nodded quickly, "yeah, like, remember Matt? We didn't know that he was killing people," he said.

Stiles lifted his head up off of the bed, "excuse me?" He scoffed, "I'm sorry, what?" He stood up, cocking his head to the side at Scott, "yes, we did. I called that from day one, actually."

"Yeah, but we never really seriously thought that it was Matt," Scott shook his head.

"I was serious!" Stiles shot back, becoming frustrated, "I was quite serious, actually. Deadly serious. No one listened to me."

Harper stood up, putting her hand on Stiles' arm to calm him down, "Stiles," she pulled him out of his angry state, "carry on. Who are your other four suspects?"

"Derek's sister, Cora," Stiles told them, "no one knows anything about her, and she's Derek's sister. Next, your boss," he pointed at Scott, causing him to sit up further on the bed.

"My boss?" The werewolf's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Yeah, your boss," the hazel eyed boy nodded, "I don't really like the whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on. You know, freaks me out."

When Scott just stared at Stiles expectantly, the younger teenage boy groaned, "oh my god. Have you still not seen Star Wars?"

"I swear," Scott smiled, "if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie. Who were the last two?"

Stiles looked at Harper nervously before releasing a loud sigh and sitting down on the bed, "Lydia and Harper."

A heavy silence filled the room as Harper took a step backwards, chuckling nervously as if she was waiting for Stiles to tell her that he was joking. When Stiles said nothing and Scott stared at Stiles, Harper knew that he was being serious.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was her boyfriend seriously considering her as the person going around murdering people in Beacon Hills? Her heart hurt at the thought, but she felt herself become more angry than sad.

"What?" She spat, "are you serious, Mieczyslaw?"

Stiles and Scott's eyes both widened a little, knowing that Harper only ever said his real name when she was furious- like them time when he had ripped off her doll's heads when she was ten so that he could replace their bodies with trucks.

"Harper... You have to understand where I'm coming from. You were both completely controlled by Peter, and you both had no idea," Stiles stood up and moved towards the angry teenage girl, who just shoved his hands away from her.

"I can't believe you'd ever think that-" She felt her eyes well up with tears but she blinked them away quickly and glared, her eyes shifting purple for a second, "I- you're such a bloody dumbass, Stiles."

Stiles grabbed her wrist as she began to make her way towards the door, "Harps, don't go. Hear me out, okay?"

"Don't touch me," she shook his hand off, "I can't stand to look at you right now."

"Harper-"

"Piss off, Stiles," she spat before she slammed the door in his face, and made her way to Allison and Lydia's room.

...

"Here, give me your phone," Lydia ordered after her phone had gone off for the thousandth time during their conversation, "that asshole needs to quit calling."

She switched off Harper's phone before throwing it onto the bed and then wrapping an arm over the girl's shoulder. Harper wasn't sad, just furious. She shrugged Lydia off of her and stood up.

"I mean, who does he think he is? He's meant to be my boyfriend and he's accusing me of murder! Ugh, I wanna strangle him!" Harper made hand actions, causing Allison to push her hands down to her sides.

"Harps, calm down. Stiles is being stupid, he'll realise that soon enough. Plus you wanting to strangle him isn't really helping you sound like you didn't murder those people," Allison winced.

Harper threw her hands into the air, frustrated, "I didn't kill them!"

"I know!" Allison reminded her, "and so does Lydia. Scott probably think it's stupid, too."

Harper went silent as she remembered the look on the werewolf's face when Stiles had explained his theory. He looked just as shocked and confused as she was, if not more, but she didn't know if he had believed it or not.

And despite being so angry at Stiles that she couldn't bear to even think about his stupid face and his stupid smile and his stupid voice, she found herself believing him a little. She was doubting herself. After all, his theory somewhat made sense.

She had no idea that she was being controlled by Peter, so maybe she was being controlled right now? The thought send shivers down her spine and she groaned, flopping back onto the bed.

Stiles' idea was stupid... right?

...

"Harper?" Allison called from the bathroom, "or Lydia, I don't care who."

The Empath walked into the bathroom, finding Allison standing with the shower running beside her. She held up the greyish towels that the hotel had provided them, pushing them gently into the girl's arms.

"Smell these," she instructed, "do they smell like cigarrettes to you?"

Harper held one up to her noise, her face immediately scrunching up in disgust and holding them away at arms length. The towels reeked of cigarette smoke, causing her to even gag a little.

"Yep," she sucked in a breath, "do you want me to go and get them changed?"

Allison's face lit up in surprise and she smiled, "that would be great, Harper, oh my gosh, thank you."

Harper waved her hand as if it was no big deal, "no worries, take your shower and I'll be back with clean towels by the time you're done."

The brunette closed the door behind her as Allison yelled, "I love you, Harper Verum!"

"I love you too, Allison Argent!" Harper called back, coming face to face with a certain strawberry blonde who raised an eyebrow at her, "I'm doing Ally a favour. The towels smell," she shoved them in her face.

Lydia recoiled, "ugh, this is disgusting," she huffed, "I'm coming with you."

The two girls made their way out their motel room, the night air hitting them like an unwanted hug. Harper shivered slightly in her denim jacket, but refused to hold the towels any closer to her for warmth. Lydia and Harper went towards the reception area and to the main desk, dropping the towels onto it.

An old woman was facing the other way, so Lydia spoke for her attention.

"Excuse me?" She sighed, "uh, the card on the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but..." she inhaled loudly, "somehow all of our towels reek of nicotine."

The old lady turned around, and both their eyes immediately darked to the tube attached to her neck. It wasn't easy to miss it, since it was so large and had medical tape around it.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," her voice came out raspy and deep, and Harper realised that she was most likely the reasoning behind the nicotine smells- obviously a very heavy smoker.

Lydia glanced up, trying not to stare at the tube on the woman's neck and be rude. Her green eyes latched onto a board above her, where in bold red writing three tags were pinned saying "198".

"What's that?" She asked softly, "that number?"

"It's a kind of inside thing for the motel," the greying woman explained, "my husband insists on keeping it up."

"Well, what does it mean?" Harper raised an eyebrow, genuinely interested.

"It's a little bit morbid, to be honest," she warned them both, "you sure you wanna know?"

"Tell us," Lydia agreed wearily, a bad feeling attached to the number.

The woman paused for a second before replying, "we're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."

"Obviously," the strawberry blonde huffed.

"But we are the number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any of ther motel in Califrornia, we have the most guest suicides," she ended with a sickening grin, almost as if she was proud.

Harper folded her arms across her chest as Lydia looked at the woman, shocked, "one hundred and ninety eight?"

"And counting," she began to cackle menacingly.

Harper turned away from her, disgusted, looking at the rest of the motel. Upon knowing some of it's history, she felt like there was a sudden weight on her chest- like she could feel all of the agony and despiration that had occurred here before.

"Lydia?" Harper whispered, catching the strawberry blonde's attention, "my Empath senses are tingling."

...

"One hundred and ninety eight?" Allison repeated in shock as she stood in the bathroom doorway, drying off her hair with her brand new clean towel.

"Yeah," Harper sighed, "and Lydia and I did the maths, and that's forty years- which means on average that's four point nine five a year."

Lydia nodded, "which is actually expected. But who commemorates with a framed number? Who does that? Who?"

Allison raised an eyebrow from where she was now rummaging through her bag, looking for her lip balm.

"All suicides?" The tall brunette questioned, applying the lip balm to her rosy lips.

"Yes," Lydia responded, "hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrells-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides. I don't know about you two, but me, I-" she paused, frowning, "did you hear that?"

"What?" Harper frowned in concern.

Lydia didn't reply, her face contorted in into one of confusion as she turned her head, facing towards the vents in the wall above the bed she was sat on. The strawberry blonde slowly stood up, standing on top of the orange covers and walking towards it.

Allison and Harper glanced at each other worriedly as their friend began to shudder, letting out shaky breaths.

"Oh, my god," Lydia whimpered, "oh my god."

Lydia suddenly gasped and jumped back, her hand slapping over her own mouth to stop herself from screaming. Harper felt an agonising pain in her chest, the same feeling she had gotten when she had been shot by Matt all those months ago, but ten times worse. The pain went quickly, as Harper swallowed.

"What is it, Lydia? What happened?" Allison asked as Lydia turned to face them, scared and shocked.

"Didn't you hear that?" She cried.

"Hear what?" The hunter frowned.

Harper nodded quickly, "I felt it. Someone was shot, weren't they?"

Lydia nodded back even quicker, grabbing her best friend's arm, "yes! The two people in the other room, they shot each other," she managed to get out between her erratic breathing, panic swelling in her chest.

She spent no more time with the two girls, rushing outside their room and to the room next door. Harper followed close by while Allison stood outside the doorway of their room.

"Lydia? Harper?" She called before rushing up to them.

Harper hesitated before her hand went to the door knob. She turned it, flinching as it creeked open. She was terrified of what they would find on the otherside. The short brunette believed everything that Lydia had said, and she knew what she had felt, too.

"Hello?" Lydia called out shakily, her hand reaching out for the light switch.

She clicked it a few times, but it wouldn't turn on. The strawberry blonde moved forwards into the dark room, Allison hissing out to her as she called out again. Lydia's hand skimmed over a light that a builder would use on a construction site, and she pressed the large black button on the side.

The light flicked on, all three girls sucking in their breaths. Harper's shoulders relaxed when she didn't see two dead bodies, but a room in the mid of being decorated instead. Paint buckets were in the centre of the cloth covered room, small bits of scaffolding by the windows and a ladder pressed up against one wall.

The motel room appeared to be covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting that the motel gave up on redocorating, or the builders left. Harper was confused to why they would have left the door unlocked in the first place.

"It had to be right here," Lydia shook her head, her tone firm as she moved further into the abandoned room, "it was a guy and a girl, and they sounded younger, but they were here."

Harper agreed, "I felt it, Lydia."

"I believe you both," Allison nodded, "after everything that we've been through, I believe you."

Harper turned away and folded her arms across her chest, deep in thought. Ever since they had made it to Glen Capri, nothing good had happened. She didn't like this place at all.

...

I haven't edited this chapter at all but the next one is gonna be intense guys

also I hate this chapter which is why I haven't  updated in two weeks (?) I think.

I have a finn wolfhard fanfic up if you wanna read that idk

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