♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 fifty-nine

sick, sick, sick

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

STILES STILINSKI STRUGGLED AGAINST THE TEENAGE BOY, HIS HANDS TEARING AT THE ARM THAT HAD BECAME SNUGLY PRESSED AGAINST HIS NECK AND RESTRICTING HIS HEAVY BREATHING.

The creature's hand, which had a large indent of jarring teeth and grazed skin, became inches away from his face while he clutched at its wrist.

Stiles gasped for air while he reached out for the idle wrench that sat on the broken hood of his jeep. Yet, no matter how much he thrashed, he was always dragged back into its arms.

He threw his head up in a fit of rage. Moments after, he heard the chilling click of broken bones and curdled coughing from the boy behind him. Just as blood began to leak from his lips, Stiles leapt forward and tugged at the metallic wrench. The human boy swang with unbridled rage until the Wendigo became nothing but a slump of broken bones on the gravel.

Stiles didn't stay too long. Not long enough for him to see if he had done enough damage. Just running towards the closest streetlamps and ignoring the loud thumping of his heavy heart.

However, something told him to look back. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Or the weight of his unfortunate mortality - but his eyes connected with him nonetheless.

That was something he'd grow to regret.

His sharp nails clawed the dirt and a devious look pressed against his features while his teeth frowned into a frightening low growl.

Stiles felt his feet ache underneath his thunderous steps but he couldn't dare stop. Not if he wanted to live. Instead, he used one hand to push against the school doors and the other to clutch the blood-stained wrench in his hand.

The school hallways twisted and turned into a never-ending maze and before he knew it, Stiles had reached a dead end. From the emptiness inside to the dark clouds outside, the Stilinski knew he and the creature were the only ones there.

He had no saviour.

He snapped and tore at the library doors before the locks came to a thick snap and the doors busted open, creating a gust of wind to blow in his face and echo through the halls.

With wide eyes and trembling hands, Stiles froze at the sound of footprints inching closer and closer to the library. One sounding much heavier than the last.

He threw himself behind a bookcase moments before the muddy footprints of the creature planted themselves across the floor. It was taunting. Hellish, even. Painting his heavy glare across the room and breathing in the dust like midsummer air.

Despite his shaking, Stiles swallowed harshly as he heard his cellphone vibrate lowly.

He pulled at his pockets to pull out his phone but as he patted against his warm skin, he was at a loss.

With a smug smirk, the creature toyed with his phone between his fingers. "You dropped your phone." Donovan taunted.

"It's Dallas." His voice bounced from the walls and shook the dusty books. "You know, I'm not too sure whether that's a guy or a girl. Should I text them back?"

He shrugged before stepping forward and burying the phone into his steep pockets. 'You don't really know who I am, do you, Stiles?"

"Maybe you knew my father."

Stiles kept an icy stare on the boy while his eyebrows came to a furrow. "Did your dad tell you about him?"  Donovan's voice was calm, but his words dripped venom. "Did Sheriff Stilinski ever tell you about the time he was still deputy and how his partner got caught in a shoot-out?"

He continued to circle around the room like a predator with its defenceless prey. "Did he tell you a bullet shattered my dad's T-9 vertebra? Went right through his spinal cord? Know what that means?"

Stiles kept his reign of silence. "It means everything below his waist is useless. Not just his legs." He soon grew bitter and angry while Stiles bowed his head in guilt. "I bet he told you some of it. But i bet he probably left out the part where he was sitting in a car calling for backup while my dad was going in alone!"

Tears pricked his eyes as he watched from behind the bookcase. "Did he tell you that he was too scared? Too much of a frightened little bitch to go in after him? Or do scared little bitches not tell their little bitch sons about their failures?"

Stiles bit back an angered look. His hands shook once more. But this time, it wasn't fear. It was anger. "About how they put their partner in a wheelchair for the rest of his life?"

His dark eyes watched idly as the boy climbed the stygian stairs of the library. With a rush of safety, he slipped from one bookshelf to behind another. Although, the silence in the room became deafening. Just as he was about to bolt for the door, a hand slithered our from underneath a shelf and grasped tightly around his neck.

Stiles found himself at its mercy once more. Yet, this time, it pulled him through the bookshelf and trapped him against the floor amongst the broken wood and tattered paper. The wrench clattered to the ground as the two boys wrestled against each other.

Stiles grunted breathlessly as he felt himself slam against the scaffolding. A winded wince barely escaped his mouth before he was being pulled back by the edge of his shirt. Jolting an elbow backwards, he climbed high onto the railings and ignored the pained coughing and enraged yelling behind him.

Donovan's hand dug into his thigh and dragged him down the railings while the human hands gripped firmly onto the metal bars above. "Don't worry, Stiles. I'm not gonna kill you." He roared out. "I'm just gonna eat your legs!"

Stiles thawed against the hands of the wendigo underneath him. With hunger in its eyes and ferocity in its grip, the creature leapt forward to sink its claws into his ankles.

However, his hands felt a cold presence instead. Then a thrush of sticky liquid. And finally, the pain.

His hand was pinned to the wall behind him with a singular scaffolding pole struck right through the palm.

A mixture of rage-infused howls and pained whimpering escaped from his lips. A faint smell of chlorine and copper wavered through the air which caused him to glance forward breathlessly.

Dallas had her fingers tangled around another spare scaffolding pole. With one end dragging against the laminated flooring and the other resting on her shoulder, the Siren ignored the sparks that lit up beneath her feet.

Stiles watched helplessly as the Wendigo clawed the metal from his palm and direct a fatal look towards the Siren. He bared his teeth at her before gripping the bloodsoaked bar and leaping her way.

"This one's mine." He spat through ridden teeth. "Go find your own meal somewhere else, fish food."

Dallas glanced towards Stiles before settling her gaze back onto the Wendigo. She could bite back the snicker even if she tried. "Yeah, that's not happening."

He narrowed his eyes into slits, giving a curious look between the maneater and the teenage boy before tutting idly. "Oh, seems like somebody likes playing with their food a little too much." The boy stepped closer. "Change of plans, Stiles. You get to see me filet your girlfriend first."

He stepped forward with a grunt and wrapped one hand tightly around her throat. The air escaped her lungs and his strength crushed the clasps of her necklace underneath.

Gritting her teeth together, Dallas tugged on the strands of his hair and jolted his head downwards while one knee bolted upwards. His bones cracked against her kneecaps and the rush of warm blood soaked deep into her jeans.

The Wendigo stumbled backwards while cradling his face with delicate hands. If he wasn't angry before, he definitely was now. The teenager wiped his bloody nose against his red sleeve with a bitter glare.

"Who's the little bitch now?" Dallas scrunched up her nose sarcastically.

That statement alone made him charge full force at her. He picked the metallic edge up from the floor before slashing out at her in a furious rage. He didn't care about which part hit her first - just indulging in the thought of eating her whole.

Dallas felt blood linger on her lower lip while her hand gripped his wrist and twisted it swiftly to the side while they both stared down at each other with inhuman hunger.

She snapped his elbow to the side, which coincidentally, tossed the pole into the side of the scaffolding that the Stilinski hung to.

It crippled underneath his weight causing him to cling to it for dear life. One more hit and he was sure it would all come tumbling down - him underneath it, too.

Dallas shoved Donovan to the side with a rough grunt before widening her eyes at the human. "Stiles!" She called out, her expression becoming worrisome. Dallas attempted to run towards him but coughed up a choked breath as her legs gave out from beneath her.

Beside her, the Wendigo had locked her ankle into his grip and dragged her across the floor until she was stuck underneath his straddled weight. His knee dug deep into her stomach while she fought off both hands that tried to claw at her face.

Stiles felt helpless. Truly. While Dallas fought him off as well as she could, he was stronger than she expected.

A thrilling scream etched up her throat when she felt his claws dig deep into her ribcage and tear at her salty skin. Blood stained her jacket and the lower ends of her hair while the Wendigo relished in the feel of her broken skin.

With a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the siren snagged a stray book from the floor and directed the spine against the side of his head. She then often her leg from under each his legs and directed her boot against his chest. It took a big jolt of energy, but nonetheless, the Wendigo flew backwards and fell through the broken bookcases.

Dallas staggered her way from the floor. Her side bled profusely and her eyelids grew heavy. But even so, she stumbled backwards and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "Stiles," she spat out. "Go."

He managed to drop the floor safely and backed away from the creaking scaffolding. "No, I-"

Dallas interrupted him with bared teeth and white eyes. "Go!" Her voice fell deeper and her tone demanding. She wasn't asking.

Stiles watched the creature clamber up from behind the wood and felt the fear creep in like a ghost. He sprinted towards the door with a thumping heart and aching chest, but that didn't stop him from taking a last worried look at her.

"Go!" She repeated once more. She felt the ground shake from the creature's growl and the oncoming dizziness from her loss of blood.

Steadying the pole in her hand, she watched as he ran towards her with outstretched claws and foaming teeth. "Come on, Dallas." She muttered lowly between winces of pain.

He clambered across the books and leapt up into the air - ready to pounce and tear her apart at any given moment. Dallas squeezed the metal underneath her fingers before swinging her hand upwards and clasping her eyes shut.

She braced herself for impact. She braced herself for the moment she'd die.

But it never came.

Instead, a deafening silence came. She opened her eyes hesitantly until they revealed the impaled skull of the Wendigo staring back. The pole had stretched upwards through his jaw and stuck out at the back of his head.

Dallas would've surely felt sick at the sight. But she didn't feel anything. Pain drowned everything out.

She stepped back with a sour look and clasped her fingers over the oozing blood that clotted up underneath her shirt. Dreary eyes overcame her and she stumbled her way forward.

"No way are you dying at the hands of a Wendigo." A voice snickered. It was familiar. It sounded like Stiles, but by the tone, Dallas knew it wasn't.

Staring up at one of the tables, Dallas widened her eyes at the sight of The Nogitsune raising both his eyebrows at her sarcastically.

"How..." She muttered out. "You're dead."

He ran his tongue over his teeth before leaning forward over the table and connecting eyes with her. "Yeah, I am." He taunted. "Looks like you've gone a little loopier since I last saw you."

She ignored his taunting and tripped over her own feet while heading to the door. "And down she goes." He crouched down to her height and cocked his head to the side while she rolled onto her back, staring dimly at the ceiling.

"Ah, maybe I'll see you in the afterlife." He split a smile while tracing his eyes over her face. "Now go to sleep, Dallie."

She fought it. She fought the oncoming darkness. But as the sight of Void standing over her became fainter and fainter, she succumbed into the abyss.

Outside, Stiles felt his heartbeat quicken and the hairs stand on edge while he stood outside the school. The room had become silent and he had paced too many times to count.

After a few minutes of distress, Stiles muttered profanities under his breath and darted back into the library with a determined look. But when he was about to yell at whatever creature to get the hell away from his girlfriend, it was gone.

And so was she.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Wherever Dallas was, it was cold. She knew that for sure as it was the thing that had awoken her in the first place.

A slithering pain seethed through her left ribcage, and while her eyes still remained shut, she could still feel the snagging and tearing of stitches.

Her eyes eventually fluttered open and she instinctively jumped up. When she expected to see Void or the dead Wendigo, Derek Hale hushed her with bloodstained hands.

"Hey, hey," he attempted to soothe her although her eyes were wide with confusion and strife. "You're okay, it's okay."

Dallas felt her head pounding fainter than usual. She took the time to notice her surroundings. Although Derek Hale's loft was better than Deaton's Aquarium, she had no interest in being in either. The Siren had been pushed back onto a chair and had bled considerably onto his floor - not that he seemed to care.

"I left you alone for ten minutes." He scolded her through harsh tugs of stitching. "Ten minutes and you almost die!"

Dallas ignored his authoritative tone and disappointed look. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to play prisoner for the day?"

Derek flickered his eyes from her face to her sticky grazes. "I didn't know Peter was going to do that."

"Well in that case, I guess that makes everything better."

"I-" he swallowed down the cluster of words and chose the next ones carefully. "We shouldn't have done that.  I'm sorry, Dallas."

There was a moment of silence. Mainly because Dallas pushed away each and every rush of emotion that threatened to spill.

So, instead, she ignored it altogether. "How'd you know where I was?"

It was Derek's turn to stay silent. Atleast, for a considerable amount of time. "I, uh, I followed your scent."

"My scent?"

"Copper and chlorine."  He stated rather flatly. However, his interest was piqued at where he had found her, not how. "Why were you at the library in the first place?"

Dallas winced at the needle piercing her skin and instead fixated on her attention onto Derek. "Well, Stiles-"

"Ah, Stiles." The werewolf commented with a knowing smirk and raised eyebrows.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying, why bother saving him if you don't care?" Derek knew it was a sore subject but kept his comical tone nonetheless. He noticed her silence and paused his messy patchwork. "Dallas?"

Dallas knitted her eyebrows and glanced around. "Where's the Wendigo?"

Derek watched her with a quirked brow. "That's what I was going to ask you." He queered. "Dallas, you were alone when I found you."

The Garcia stood up and backed away from the werewolf. "No, I killed it.. right there in the library." Her voice was bitter through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure? Maybe you thought you did-"

She gave him a stern look before stomping away towards the front door. The last thing she wanted was for him to make her feel like she was crazy.

"I'm sure." The Siren attempted to pull her jacket over her shoulders but hissed as the leather snagged the stitching. Despite this, she leant against the open door and squeezed her eyes shut at the drowsiness that overcame her. "I have to go find it."

Dallas was in no state to go anywhere - and he knew that.

"And what if it finds you and finishes the job?" Derek wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and placed his hand firmly against the door, slamming it shut. "Atleast wait until morning when you're feeling less reckless."

Dallas gave him a deflated look. Despite how annoying it was, he was right. Still, it didn't falter her skepticism. "How do I know I won't wake up chained to another chair?"

Derek slouched his shoulders with a blank stare. "How do I know I won't wake up with another hole in my stomach?"

This time, Derek didn't have the fork. He didn't have mountain ash clustered in his palms or sour pills shoved in her face. It was just him - and a gracious offer to atleast watch over her for the night. If not to prison her, to atleast make sure she was safe.

Dallas didn't react well to charity. Vulnerability was never one of her playing cards.

But when she stared out at the open door and the gusted wind howled back, she sighed in a huff of surrender.

"Fine."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles Stilinski sat slouched on his bed. He had a bottomless pit of scribbled paper and disregarded theories at his feet. He had been up most the night waiting for a call - a singular sign of life from his Dallas.

And he did get a call.

Stiles wrapped his hands around his phone wide eyes and desperation.

But not from her.

"Scott?"

The Alpha didn't give him much time to fill in the blanks of the night before he spluttered out a worried tone. "Stiles, someone's taking the bodies."

His eyes bowed down to the floor and another grim feeling seeped in. "Stiles, you there?"

"Yeah. Um, Where? What are you talking about?" Stiles managed to choke out. He had an affinity to protect Dallas. From judgement, from sadness, even from things that weren't even her fault.

After all, if Scott knew Dallas had killed the Wendigo, then Stiles knew she'd be the first person he'd accuse.

"I'm at the Animal Clinic with Kira. Tracy's body is gone." Scott stared at the broken chains and smashed windows. "The lock on the door was broken from the outside. My mom told me Lucas' body is missing from the morgue. They're searching the whole hospital for it."

Scott shared a worrisome look with the Kitsune. "Someone's stealing the bodies."

While in retrospect, it was easy to blame the Sirens for such atrocity - especially the one without a speck of humanity.

But deep within the woods, carrying the bodies of the recently deceased, Jordan Parrish tred through the mud with a blank look. Posessed, even.

Just as the sun had set and chaos had engulfed the small town of Beacon Hills, a small smirk pricked at his lips.

And his eyes grew red with hellfire.

☆ word count: 3,404. ☆

a/n: Happy Halloween!