' like a married couple '

"You know, there is seriously something wrong with this place," Lydia huffed, zipping up one of her cosmetic bags and grabbing all of her stuff off of the dresser, "hey, Allison, Harper, we need to leave."

She shoved them into her bag quickly, not waiting for either girls' responses.

"But they were suicides, not murders," Allison replied softly, "and it's not like this place is haunted, right?"

Lydia turned to face Harper and Allison, shaking her head, "maybe it is," she sighed, "you know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room. Harper, you must have felt something too? Could you feel the emotional trauma? The pain?"

Harper's eyes softened at her freaked out friend, "I didn't feel anything inside the room particuarly," she shook her head, "I feel mental and physical pain just being in this motel, after finding out what happened here."

The strawberry blonde remained silent for a second before coming up with an idea.

"Maybe that's why they're renovating. Maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the wood panelling," Lydia suggested.

"Maybe we should find out."

The three girls had made their way back down to reception, only to be dissapointed when they saw no old woman and just a sign that read 'back at 6am' in her place.

Harper sighed, "we'll ask in the morning," she yawned, feeling herself become more tired.

"Didn't you say the sign said one-nine-eight?" Allison panicked, looking up at the red lettering that now read 'two-zero-one'.

"It was one-nine-eight," Lydia replied, "I swear to god it was one-nine-eight."

"It was," Harper agreed, a lot more awake and confused than before.

Allison frowned, "okay, so what does that mean, that there's been three more suicides?"

"Or three more are about to happen," Lydia gulped.

...

"No, no, no, no, and no. We are not asking Stiles for help," Harper snapped, rolling her eyes, "I can be just as smart as he is, we can work this out without him."

Lydia threw her hands up in the air, "look, Harper, I know that you two aren't exactly talking-"

"He thinks I'm a bloody murderer!" Harper cried, her accent unintentionally becoming thicker with the angrier that she grew, "I don't even want to look at Stiles, yet alone talk to him."

"Harper, lives are at stake here," Allison retorted, holding her arms to stop her from pacing around their hotel room, "and I know that you are just as smart as Stiles, but right now we have nothing, and he could be our only hope."

The short brunette fell silent, thinking about what Allison had just said. It was true- lives were possibly at stake, and she didn't want to be the reason that people died. She could be petty, but she was never that petty.

"Fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes yet again, "but I want you to know that I am not happy with this decision and you two owe me because I am so mad right now."

Lydia nodded, "totally. I'll take you out for food if we make it back alive, I promise. Now text him."

"Me? Why me?"

"Just do it!"

"Jeez, you two are fighting like a total married couple and you've only been together a year," Lydia muttered.

The short brunette relied sadly, "a year next week."

Harper sighed, turning away from her two friends and pulling out her phone, switching it on. She frowned at all of the text messages and missed calls she had from Stiles, even a few from Scott. She pressed his name and began to text him.

To Stiles

come to Lydia and Allison's room. Something we need to talk about.

"Done," Harper tossed her phone onto her bed and sat down, "you guys can do all of the talking."

The door burst open before the two girls could even reply, Stiles entering looking a mixture of worried and upset. His brown hair was pushed up messier than usual, and he only seemed to settle a little when his eyes landed on Harper.

"Oh my god, please don't break up with me," Stiles pleaded, moving to kneel down in front of her, grabbing her hands, "I know you aren't the one murdering all those people, I'm such a freaking dumbass. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Harper Verum."

Harper got lost in his teary hazel eyes for a couple of seconds, almost about to give in and wrap her arms around him when Lydia spoke up.

"She's not breaking up with you, asshole," the strawberry blonde snapped, "and while I'm really not happy with you for hurting my best friend, you need to help us. So stand up and get a grip, Stiles."

Stiles turned red from embarrassment, hesitantly letting go of Harper and standing.

"What's going on?" He questioned.

Between them, Allison and Lydia both began to explain what had been going on in the hotel. The suicide count, the voices Lydia supposedly heard next door, and then how it had just been an empty room. Allison told them about how Scott had barged into the bathroom when she was in the shower while Lydia and Harper had been getting new towels, acting stranger than usual.

"-and the last time I saw Scott like that was during the full moon," she finished, glancing at Stiles in concern, as if he would have all of the answers that they needed.

"Yeah, no, he was definitely a little off with me, too," Stiles agreed, "but actually it was Boyd who was really off. I watched him put his fist through the vending machine."

"See, it is the motel," Lydia claimed, "either we need to get out of here right now," she reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bible, "or someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."

"Okay, just hold on, all right?" Stiles lifted his hand up, "what if it's not just the motel? The number in the office went up by three, right?"

Harper's eyes widened, "three sacrifices."

Stiles' eyes flickered in her direction, pursing his lips and feeling proud simply at the fact that she had acknowledged his existence and imputed on his thoughts. He nodded in her direction, not taking his eyes off her as she looked back at him.

"What if this time it's three werewolves?" The hazel eyed boy suggested.

"Scott, Isaac and Boyd," Allison listed slowly.

"What if whoever is doing the sacrifices intended on us coming here? Like they planned this whole thing?" Harper wondered out loud, shivering at the thought.

"Exactly!" Lydia cried, making the shorter girl jump, "so can we get the hell out of here now? Please?"

Stiles' eyes caught sight of the pages sticking out of the bible that Lydia was still waving around in her hands. He reached out and took it from her grasp, opening the book to the white slips of paper. He unfolded one of them.

"What is that?" Allison asked, moving closer to read.

It was an article that had been cut out of a newspaper, the headline reading 'twenty eight year old man hangs self at the infamous Glen Capri'. Harper shuddered as Stiles shook the bible, other folded up articles falling out of it and onto the bed beside her.

She reached out and picked one up, "this one was in room 217."

"So was this one," Lydia grabbed the paper from her, placing it onto the bed beside hers, "these are probably all the suicides that happened in this room."

"So if every room has a bible..." Allison realised.

Lydia nodded, "there could be articles in all the rooms."

Stiles grimaced, "that's a beautiful thing," he spoke sarcastically, "most places leave a mint under the pillow. This one leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that occurred."

"What if the one next door has the one about the couple?" Lydia thought out loud.

"Then let's go check," Harper declared, swinging her legs off of the bed and following Stiles out of the room who was already running next door.

He gripped onto the door handle, trying to turn it, but it was locked.

"Okay, that wasn't locked before," Harper panicked, running a hand through her hair nervously.

Allison shook her head, "forget it. We need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here."

Stiles took off away, the girls about to follow when the sound of a handsaw starting up filled their ears. Harper's eyes widened and Stiles rushed back over.

"I'm not the only one that heard that, am I?" Lydia asked quietly.

"It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on," Allison gulped in return.

"Handsaw?" Stiles cried in disbelief, flinging the door open as it unlocked strangely.

Harper gasped when she saw one of the twins, Ethan, stood in the middle of the room, holding a handsaw in his hands, moving it closer to his stomach. His face remained emotionless, and Harper could feel nothing coming from him.

"Ethan, no, don't!" Stiles yelled, dashing forwards and grabbing a hold of it, trying to pull the tool away from him.

"Stiles!" Harper cried out worriedly as they strained after it.

She looked around the room for a plug socket quickly, her teary brown eyes landing on the one right beside the door. Just as Stiles was thrown down onto the ground, about to get his face sawed in half, she ripped it out, the handsaw quickly turning off.

Heavy pants filled the room as they all stared at Ethan, waiting for his next move. The werewolf quickly extended his claws, and was about to rip his stomach open again when Stiles let out a battle cry, standing up and attempting to pry his hands away from him. Allison did the same on his other arm, grunting as he struggled against them both.

Ethan lurched forwards, the two weaker teenagers falling off of him. He fell onto the heater in front of him, the sound of his skin burning filling the air and his screams following shortly as he rolled around on the floor, panting in angony.

Harper looked away, willing herself not to connect. When she heard him stand up she realised that it was over and glanced back, seeing Ethan looking at them all angrily.

"What just happened?" He demanded before rushing out of the room.

"Ethan!" Stiles called, running after him.

...

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Ethan muttered, walking down the steps of the motel, buttoning his blue shirt back up, "I don't know how I got there or what I was doing."

Stiles rolled his eyes from behind him, "okay, you could be a little bit more helpful, you know? We did just save your life."

"Well you probably shouldn't have," the Alpha twin glared at all four teenagers before turning his back on them and heading away.

"What now?" Harper sighed.

"I'll find Scott," Allison replied from where she was still stood on the last step, "you three grab Isaac and Boyd. The best thing we can do is get them out of this place."

The hunter marched up the stairs, leaving Lydia, Harper and Stiles all alone. The strawberry blonde looked between the couple wearily, unsure of what to say. Lydia knew that she was a suspect on Stiles' list too, but she didn't care, she was more mad at him for thinking his own girlfriend had done it.

But they had to get over it at some point, and Lydia knew that ignoring each other was going to get them nowhere. If anything, it was probably just adding to the building tension.

"I'm going to go with Allison," Lydia told them, "you two can do this together."

"Lydia-"

"No, Harper," she cut her off, shaking her head, "this doesn't even have to be about you two for tonight. It can be about Scott, Isaac and Boyd, and saving their asses."

Harper bit her lip, realising that she had been being selfish all night. While Lydia had been concerned about their friends being sacrificed, she had been moping about her boyfriend. She gave a short nod, indicating that she was right.

Lydia shot Stiles a stern look before jogging up the stairs to where Allison had gone, leaving Stiles and Harper alone for the first time tonight. Harper looked around, avoiding his hazel eyes, not knowing where to start. She didn't even know where Boyd and Isaac were staying.

"Harper, can we talk?" Stiles questioned, following her as she began to make her way up a different stair case, opposite to the one that the other girls had gone up.

The Empath shook her head, "no, Stiles. We have more important things to do here, you heard Lydia."

"Well you're the most important thing in my life, Harper, so I beg to differ," Stiles retorted, following right behind her.

Harper felt her heart clench, but she didn't pause or turn around. She listened as he began to ramble on behind her.

"Look, I didn't mean that you're trying to kill people, okay? I just... I just meant that maybe, maybe you're somehow involved in getting people to kill themselves, you know?" Stiles faded off towards the end, cringing at how the words came out, "which now that I say that out loud, it just sounds really terrible, so..."

Harper whirled around at the top of the metal stairs, her brown eyes teary but a glare on her face anyway. Stiles stopped, looking at her nervously, waiting for her outburst, which came just a second later.

"Did you think that I was making people kill themsleves before or after what had happened last night?" She spat, "did you think it was me the second you found out that they were sacrifies? Or maybe a few days after that? How long have you thought I was part of this bloody thing, huh, Stiles? How long?"

Stiles' eyes were soft and he felt so guilty. His lips parted, but no words came out. A frown was etched onto his face, his brows pulled together and his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"It really hurts, Stiles," her voice was quieter than before, and somehow that made the Stilinski boy feel even worse, "that you of all people would ever think that of me."

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered, "i-it was just a stupid theory. You're right, it's probably not what's going on here-"

Harper shook her head, her jaw clenched, "let's not talk about this here," she swallowed, "I need to help Isaac and Boyd before-"

Suddenly, Harper was choking. Her hands went to her neck, her eyes wide as she coughed and coughed, trying to get rid of the feeling. It felt like she was underwater- like she was drowning, but there was no water, and she was physically fine.

Stiles rushed forwards, his hand on her back, "disconnect yourself, Harper!"

Harper hunched over, a couple more coughs coming out of her. She weakly pointed at the door behind them, knowing for sure that the feeling was coming from there. Realising that if he saved whoever was drowning he would save Harper, Stiles dashed forwards and pushed the door open.

Harper's coughing went silent, her brain going fuzzy. It was like she was desperately trying to claw back onto life, using all of her might to get above the surface, but nothing was working. With no more vision, she lost all feeling in her body, and then she was gone.

...

Harper lurched up at the feeling of her stomach being burnt, a piercing scream echoing throughout the motel at the same time as a howl from the room beside her. Stiles rushed out of the door, his eyes landing on her and a relieved sigh escaping his lips.

"Thank God," Stiles reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her up, "I found Boyd. We need to find Isaac."

Harper stood up, her eyes catching sight of inside the motel room, and particuarly the bed. She raised her eyebrows upon feeling an intense amount of stress come from it.

"He's under the bed," she warned him, taking a step inside.

Stiles walked behind her, a flare in his hand. She glanced down at it, confused. Upon noticing her expression, he quickly explained how heat had pulled Ethan out of whatever trance he had been in, and then it had pulled Boyd out of his trance from where he had tried to drown himself in the bathtub.

Harper leaned down, looking under the bed. Sure enough Isaac was underneath it and he gasped, wriggling backwards when he saw Stiles and Harper kneeled there. The short brunette gave him an apologetic smile as Stiles lit the flare.

"Hey, Isaac," he practically cooed, not wanting to scare him off, "I've got something for you..."

...

Stiles and Harper met up with a frantic Allison and Lydia on the other side of the motel. They all rushed down the stairs, talking about how they had found Isaac and Boyd, and how Stiles had discovered that heat pulls them out of their state.

"We can't find Scott anywhere," Allison stressed from beside the strawberry blonde.

"It's happening to him too, isn't it?" Stiles worried.

"It has to be," Lydia agreed, "didn't you say there was another flare on the bus?"

Stiles nodded, "yeah, I'll get it."

But as soon as the four teenagers had gotten to where the bus was parked, they were stunned into silence. Scott was stood in front of it, looking down at his feet. His entire body and the space around him was drenched in what smelt like gasoline. A flare was in his right hand, dangerously close to lighting him on fire.

Harper felt her heart in her throat, and she knew that the other three were just as scared as she was.

"Scott..." Allison called, moving towards him, "Scott."

They inched so they were stood directly in front of the werewolf, and he looked up, his face fallen. Harper's hand went to her mouth, a couple of tears falling.

"There's no hope," he muttered, breaking all of their hearts.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison managed to smile nervously, "there's always hope."

"Not for me," the teenage boy protested monotone, "not for Derek."

Harper bit down on her lip, "that wasn't your fault, Scott," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse," he ignored what she had said, "people keep getting killed."

Stiles cut him off, "Scott, listen to me, this isn't you, all right? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay now-"

"What if it isn't?" Scott argued before the hazel eyed boy could finish, "what if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?"

There was a heavy pause, and before anybody could comfort him with any words, he spoke up again.

"It all started that night, the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that?" He managed to look at Stiles and Harper, "you, me, Harper. We were... We were nothing. We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all."

"Scott, just listen to me, okay?" Stiles inched forwards a little, "you're not no one. Okay, you're someone, you're... Scott, you're my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you're my brother," Stiles paused, "all right so," he took a step into the puddle of gasoline, taking the flare carefully from his hnad, "so if you're gonna do this, then I think you're just gonna have to take me with you."

Harper's hand was over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks at the sight of her two best friends in front of her. Stiles threw the flare behind them and Scott began to breathe heavily, tearing up. Harper's eyes casted towards the flare as it began to roll back towards them, towards the gasoline...

"Stiles! Scott!" She screamed, running forwards and pushing them both out of the way, just as the ground caught on fire.

She landed on top of them, the fire blazing like nothing that she had ever seen before. And, despite being absolutely furious with her boyfriend, she wrapped her arms around the two males underneath her, just glad that they were alive.

...

"I don't want to know," a voice woke Harper up from her very uncomfortable slumber.

She blinked, only then remembering that she and her friends had all moved to sleep on the bus, refusing to step another foot inside the motel. Allison and Lydia were behind her on one seat as she sat alone in the other. Scott was in the one beside her, Stiles behind him.

"I really don't want to know," Coach Finstock finished, "but in case you missed the announcement, the meet's cancelled, so we're heading home. Pack it in. Pack it in!"

Other kids began to file onto the bus, but Harper kept to herself, tucking her legs up into her body and resting her cheek against the cool glass of the window.

"Hey, Coach, can I see that for a second?" Lydia spoke up, pointing at the whistle on around his neck.

"I'm gonna need that back," he handed it to her, making his way down the bus towards Ethan.

Lydia inspected it closely, sitting on the same seat that Harper was on so that she was in the middle of everyone. She placed her hand over the end and blew into it. When she took her hand away there was purple dust coating her palm.

"Wolfsbane."

"So every time that Coach blew the whistle on the bus, Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Ethan..." Stiles realised.

"We all inhaled it," Scott finished.

"You were all poisoned by it," Allison nodded.

"So that's how the Darach got in their heads. That's how he did it," Stiles quickly opened the window and threw the whistle out as the bus drove off.

"Stilinski!"

...

so harper and stiles aren't on good terms rn and it kills me ugh
also no i didn't proofread this

sorry it's taken me soooo long to upload i just have a lot of stuff going on n' tbh this chapter was soooo boring to write