CHAPTER TWO:
a very unhappy birthday, part two.

   The sound of pop music pumps through Gwen's house. Kids splashing into the pool, hanging out on the couch, or in her friend's cases: hanging out around the kitchen and just chatting.

Heather smiles and giggles as she recounts a memory of Gwen daring Stiles to put his head through the stair bannister for five dollars.

"I can't believe you did that!" Heather laughs with a shake of her head.

"Yeah well five dollars as a five year old means rich, so..." Stiles explains, a fond smile on his face. "I didn't even get my five dollars," he pouts as he recounts the memory. There was butter, firefighters, and a very angry Sheriff Stilinski but no five dollars.

Heather snorts. "Leave it to Gwen."

Stiles scoffs, taking a sip from his red cup. As much as he loves to act like he can't stand the brunette, he knows that they will always have an irreplaceable bond. Their mothers were childhood friends who spent practically every waking second with each other. They were ecstatic when they found out they were both pregnant, Stiles' dad liked to joke that it was like he married conjoined twins. Stiles and Gwen's lives have always been intertwined since the moment they were born, and unknowing to the brunet boy, they were about to intertwine a hell of a lot more.

"Has anyone seen Gwen?" Brett interrupts the two.

Heather purses her lips. "I haven't seen her since she went to get ice," she informs him with the shake of her head.

Stiles shrugs. "She's probably reigning her terror on some poor hopeless kid."

Brett shakes his head, his gut telling him something is off. "She never brought the ice," he insists.

"What?" Heather asks, standing up from her leaning position.

Stiles eyebrows furrow as he puts his cup down. His brown eyes connect with Heather's blue ones, silently agreeing to start looking for their third musketeer.

Brett picking up on their silent conversation, interrupts, "She keeps the ice in the basement." He tells the two leading them to the room mentioned.

The towering blond quickly makes his way down the stairs. The three teens looking around for any sight of the missing brunette. The sound of water dripping catches the werewolfs attention, he instantly follows the sound. The view of two bags of half melted ice sitting in a large puddle came into his line of sight.

"What the hell?" Heather whispers, confusion lacing her voice.

Brett crouches down, his blue eyes closing while he inhales a breath of air through his nose. He immediately becomes alarmed, distress instantly filling his senses and causing him to stumble back.

Stiles grabs his arms. "You okay there big guy?" He inspects the worry look that covers the other males face.

Brett opens his mouth to answer, a loud splash hitting the small window interrupts him. The three teens look curiously at the spray of water before a loud piercing screams shakes them to their core. Without hesitation the three pile onto the stairs, running up them two at a time and making their way into the living room.

Heather's eyes flicker around the room at the sight of all the teens pushing their way inside the house and running out the front door. Stiles begins to elbow his way through the crowd, getting hit everywhere as the current of teens rushes towards him. He stumbles out of the crowd, Heather's broken voice pulling away from him fixing his rumpled sweater.

He watches in confusion as she drops to her knees, him and Brett both rushing to catch her.

"Oh my God," she cries, a hand covering her mouth.

Stiles stumbles as the weight of Heather pushes against him. His brown eyes follow the blonde's line of sight, trying to get a glimpse of what has her in such a state.

A quiet gasp escapes his lips, his eyes widening as he watches the bright red hue slowly seep into the cerulean water that fills the pool. Gwen's bludgeoned and bloody body lifelessly floating right smack dab in the middle.

The brunet's knees buckle, his eyes watering. He brushes a shaky hand through his hair. "Oh God," his stomach lurches, the sight of his best friend deducted to nothing more than a bloody corpse making him sick.

His body feels numb, as he grips onto his mouth. His head feeling light and tight, the sound of Heather's sobs and Brett calling 9-1-1 slowly fade in and out as a ringing takes over. He stumbles backwards, warm and familiar arms catching him.

"Stiles, Stiles," a muffled voice echoes through his head, breaking him out of the trance he was in. Two eyes that match his own take in his state.

Sheriff Stilinski grips his only son's shoulders, his wise eyes scanning Stiles face. He looks at the worn face full of worry lines that no 16 year old should have.

"What happened?" The Sheriff asks desperately, although he didn't know if he was asking about tonight or when exactly did the bond between the two start breaking after he tried so hard to build it back. The Sheriff didn't know what to do anymore, it seemed as if any time Beacon Hills had a murder or death Stiles and his friends were somehow always wrapped into it.

The young boy in question opens his mouth to answer but no words come out. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how to answer such a loaded question. A loud scream full of pure anguish breaks the Stilinski's attention away from each other.

Mai Aquino runs towards the black body bag lying on top of a gurney. "Please no," she cries out. "Not my baby! Not my only baby," her body shakes as the sobs roll through her body. Her hands desperately claw at the zipper. "Please God, not my baby girl. Please God, please not her."

Sheriff Stilinski grips the hand fighting to unzip the bag, pulling the woman into his chest. He pats her hair down as she clenches onto his shirt, her whole body shaking with every violent sob. "Not my baby Noah, please tell that's not my baby," she pleads.

The Sheriff swallows, his throat tightening as he nods at the two EMTs to take the body away. He engulfs the woman closer to his chest. The two parents clinging onto each other both aching at the loss of the girl they watched grow up. Aching at the loss of a life gone far too soon.

If only the two oblivious parents were aware of what truly ran the streets of Beacon Hills; only then would they know that those that die in Beacon Hills, never truly stay dead.

NOTES.
i wrote a chapter then went to bed. then i woke up and wrote another chapter. i think i found my new hyperfixation.
let me know what you guys think of this chapter!
also do u guys have any theories of whats to come next??