♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 seventy-one

I am not a woman, I'm a god.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DIRTY WHITE lace cradled Dallie's small frame, a flutter of checkered flannel pricking her arms and loose buttons stroking her outer thighs. Brown curls of hair had created an autumn halo around her head while cobblestone crept out from behind the strands. A layer of dust had coated her shoulders and the tip of her nose - each slow inhale of breath sprinkling the molecules atop her unblinking eyelashes. 

Primrose lips didn't speak a word. Nor did the freckled cheeks split in a smile. She lay dazed, confused, and unconscious of the decaying rust around her. She became a sleeping beauty, allowing the world to crumble around her, so long as she could keep her head heavy in the clouds.

Her heart took prisoner behind the bars of her ribcage and a sweet melody of unspoken words was buried alive underneath her tongue. Lying her head on a pillow of comfortable amnesia, it'd be easier to stay asleep. 

But Dallas never chose the easy route.

Her eyes snapped open. And the edges of her dusty pink lips curled into a wicked red scowl. The halo of hair curls fell behind her shoulders while the front strands twisted in front of her face like inverted horns. Dragging her coffin-shaped nails across the graphite, Dallas slid over the chalk and rose from behind the metal pronged cage.

Dallas rested her chin against the stained supports, red fingernails trickling the bars she clung to while silver rings tapped a tasteless tune against the ingot. She noticed how one of the bars began to wiggle from the rusted deterioration - and wrapped her hand around it.

"Hello?" She took notice of her aloneness, and the practicality of it, before swinging on her booted feet and casting air through her blood-stained flowy dress. "I can hear your heartbeat. It's erratic," The Siren split a puckered smile through sharpened teeth. "Come out where I can see you."

Tracy Stewart stepped out from the shadows. A deathly aroma stuck to her with a putrid stench. Dallas crinkled her nose slightly but made no effort to tear her pearly eyes away. "You make too much noise."

"Come and quiet me down, then." 

The newly turned Chimera watched as she cocked her head to the side and ran wet her teeth with a sharp tongue. "Nice try," Tracy crossed her arms while approaching the caged Siren. "The Mountain Ash is there for a reason. I don't question why, I just do what the Alpha says."

Her face rested inches away from Dallie's with nothing but the brittle bar between them and watched as the Garcia's frosted gaze dropped to the line of dust at her feet.

Tracy turned her back but it didn't stall the muttered taunts from behind her. "And if you be good, he gives you a treat?"

Tracy stiffened. "He made us."

Dallas felt pity seep from her pores and stain her dress.

"And that means you owe him?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "Sounds like he needs you a little more than you need him, don't you think?"

Doubt had started to rot the Chimera's loyal brain. The words of the Siren echoed the tubes of her frontal lobe and nested in her ears. "But if you let me out," Her hand stretched out through the gaps, trickling her nails across her back and sliding her fingers underneath the tank top straps. 

Dallas pulled at her shoulder with suppressed strength. A grin painted across her hypnotic features as Tracy buckled backward and her ear fell to the same height as the Siren's lips. "I can teach you how much you don't need boys,"

 ".. To tell you what to do."

Tracy remained silent before the creaking floorboards above shook her from the hypnotism - and freed her from the sinking feeling that coated her gut. "Theo's gonna be back soon." She took a step back. And another. And another. As many as she could until she never felt the gravitational pull of the Siren any longer. 

Still, her whitish eyes burned into her frame as she backed away.

"Very soon." Tracy mustered up the courage to narrow her eyes. "He'll trade your mother and your aunts for you - and then he can begin to build a truly great pack."

Dallas slid her hands from the bars and ran her eyes around the run-down clinical room. "And in the meantime?" 

"The Dread Doctors get to play Nurse."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Scott McCall kept his back pressed against the wall as Theo's voice carried through the empty house. Stiles Stilinski's heavy breathing could still be heard over each sentence - his brain stubbornly stuck on the senseless idea of tackling him right then and there.

"Lydia figured it out," Theo explained calmly. "I saw it in her memories."

Stiles' tone turned sour. "Right after you drove her out of her mind."

The New Alpha pursed his lips. "Collateral damage." His words were icy, caring little about the lasting effect he had on both the town and the banshee. "But if she's right about Parrish, then things around here are gonna get a lot worse."

Scott sunk into the threat whereas Stiles brushed it off. He wasn't a werewolf. He didn't have retractable claws and fur growing from his cheeks. Stiles was human - and happily so. His life consisted on keeping his family close, his girlfriend closer, and his heart still beating in his chest. Whatever happened to the town afterward didn't matter anymore. 

"I don't care."

"You should," Theo spoke over him. "Because if your dad does survive, he's not gonna be Sheriff of anything much longer."

"What's happening to him?" Stiles ignored the empty threats, or as empty as they sounded, and sharpened his gaze through two narrowed slits. Although, Theo seemed tired of the questions and the pestering. His stare lingered on the Stilinski for a few moments longer before turning to the open door. 

Stiles acted upon the urge to tackle him. Pulling at his arm, Stiles seethed through gritted teeth. "Hey, tell me!-"

The next thing Stiles knew, Theo's hands shoved against his chest and his sneakers had stumbled over the carpet. The wooden stairs held no cushion for his thundering falling weight and instead smacked against his skull upon impact. 

Reality had started to distort around him as he heard his father's name yelling after him. "Stiles!" Noah's echoey voice surrounded him. "Stiles, wake up!"

The blurry face of Sheriff Stilinski melted before him. The pale skin grew warmer. The hair longer and the body younger. The voice didn't sound so gruff anymore. Noah had blinked away into the silhouette of Scott McCall. "Stiles.. Stiles!"

The werewolf offered out his hand. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?-"

He just didn't expect for it to be swatted away. "I'm fine." 

Stiles jumped to his feet, panting vigorously, and stretched out the shoulders that had began to ache. 

Scott quirked a brow at his odd behaviour. He had seen this type of behaviour before. A time when a demon inhabited the body of his bestfriend. "You blacked out." 

"I'm okay." The teenager shook his head - and Scott's pestering worries away - before flickering his tired gaze to the open door. "Did you get anything from him?"

"Nothing. He was calm the entire time."

Unsatisfied with the answer, Stiles pressed on. He didn't notice how his knuckles pinched the skin between them or how his teeth chewed on the inner sides of his cheeks. He was full of pent-up rage that clawed its way out of him one way or another. "What about his heart?"

"I heard it jump, but only once, and only for a second." Scott tried to push away the suspcious thoughts about his best friend as he spoke. Yet, something about Stiles seemed off. Angry, even. The type of emotion that rotted you from the inside out.

Stiles narrowed his shameless gaze. "That doesn't mean he was lying."

Dealing with the situation at hand, The Alpha pushed away his troublesome thoughts and focused on the matter at hand. It didn't matter what he thought about Stiles - or his temper - he needed him. "Not really. The rest of the time it was steady."

"When did it jump? What was I talking about?"

Scott took a moment of silence, which by Stiles' impatient glare, seemed to quicken abruptly. 

"It was when you said that your dad was poisoned."  He blew out the information through a quick huff. Stiles had a tendency to over-analyze every piece of information he could obtain. While it led to some of the pack's breakthroughs, it also led them to a lot of dead ends. 

"That could be something." He nodded along. "A jump could mean surprise, right?"

Still, not wanting to press hit buttons anymore, he nodded along. "Yeah, yeah. I think so."

"So why would he be surprised that my dad's still dying?"

The teenager watched Scott's eyes widen with realization. A glint of hope tinted his dark brown iris as he stepped forward. "Oh, wait... He didn't say that he was the one who attacked your dad, did he?"

Stiles grew teary at the recollection. "No." 

"Well, then this means it was probably someone else." The McCall paced back and forth incessantly while wracking at his brain. Just as the pieces of the puzzle jolted together, Scott froze in his tracks and faced the Stilinski. "Another Chimera."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas lay against the rough cobblestone floor. Stiles' flannel rested over her bare knees while she arranged all her rings onto a singular hand, lining them up into a makeshift knuckleduster. She could hear the wind howl outside, but never once saw the sky, and sat wondering how many hours had passed. 

Her curled hair seemed to keep the warmth in her shoulders a little longer. As did the sundress cover the bare thighs that would've scorched the cold concrete. 

Her eyes crawled across the floor like seaweed stretching through the cracks of swamp stone. Muddy sneakers soaked up her sight before the jeans above them creased in a kneel. "Trust me, this hurts me much more than it does you."

Dallas didn't bother meeting Theo's gaze, still fiddling with the rings lined along her knuckles. "Oh, it will." 

Theo couldn't bite back the amused smile. Wriggling under her skin with his mere presence, The Chimera stepped over the line of mountain ash and towered over her. "Why does everyone think I'm the bad guy?"

"Kidnapping teenage girls isn't usually a heroic gesture." 

The Raeken ran his tongue over his teeth before offering her his hand. "I didn't kidnap you. You're free to leave whenever you want, Dallie." He watched as she viewed it suspiciously. "It's the Dread Doctors who'll have an issue."

Dallas could smell the faint scent of musky cologne coat those hands, along with the stench of werewolf that seemed to linger around the town. "Where have you been?" She questioned curiously. 

He seemed taken aback by her question. Covering up the jump in his heartbeat with usual teasing. "I'd assume you'd be eager to see me." His pearly white teeth peeked out from behind his lips. He pulled out his other hand, dangling the blood bag between the knuckles, and placed it before her face. Dallas saw her slouched reflection stare back through the red liquid -- almost mocking the state.

Despite better judgment, she reached for it. Dallas didn't even feel the cold lining before Theo pulled it out of view, using the opportunity to snake his hand around her wrist to pull her forward instead. "You deserve better than to rot down here, Dallie... Tell me where your family is and I can make them let you go."

Dallas noticed how he whispered. How he seemed to plead silently. "Dallas, please. They will hurt you." He stared into her eyes intently. "Your mother abandoned you, remember? I was there. I helped you through it all. You can trade places with her, make her pay-"

"No."

He blinked rapidly. "What?"

"Sorry, was that not the answer you were expecting?" Dallas leaned closer to his face with a look so cold it made him shiver. "Did I not live up to your Siren fantasy daydream? I'm not cutting any deal with you, Theo."

Dallas was bound behind bars. Circled in a line of mountain ash. Threatening him. A smile accompanied her as she did so. Theo tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear before tapping his fist against her chin. "You want time to think it over?"

She shook her head from side to side and fixated her gaze on her hands instead. She paid no notice to his warm silhouette, nor his affectionate prodding, just her hands. The chipped red nail polish. The blood stains between her cuticles. The bones and strings of muscle hid behind a distorted glow of inhuman power. 

Dissatisfied with her answer, Theo swung the door shut with a slanted frown. 

Dallas ignored him once more. She could feel her hands clasp together like storm clouds and suffocate the sun above. Rubbing them together, energy crackled the tips of her fingers and static erupted from the palm. Each time she cracked her knuckle and clenched her fists, thunder rumbled outside the brick walls around her. Lightning crashed down from the heavens and sent bolts rummaging through the grass around her, aimlessly searching to find its home between her hands.

Dallas glanced up -- eyes bright like cosmic bolts -- and parted her lips into a smile.

The storm once controlled her. Dictated her every move and emotion like a full moon. But with shivering palms and goosebumped skin, the Siren reached up between the clouds and stole its power from beneath the sun.

With a wicked smile, her hands came to a close. And the thunder stopped.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Scott McCall pulled at the lock of Noah Patrick's locker, tracing him from the Stilinski's cellphone about a missing teenager. He rummaged through it before pulling out a drawstring hoodie - tossing it in the air beside him.

"Now we can catch his scent."

And right into Malia Tate's grasp. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes and felt betrayal sting his lower gut. "You called her?"

Scott stammered through furrowed brows before noticing the empty spot beside the Tate. "And Dallas. Where is she?"

Malia contained a scowl while approaching the two boys. Her hand slithered behind her back and she kept a suspicious look staining her features. "I don't know, I expected a welcome back hug and found this instead."

Swinging from Malia Tate's fingers, chain twisting around the knuckle, hung Dallas Garcia's golden D necklace. Shimmering underneath the light for a singular moment before Stiles Stilinski reached forward to rip it from her grasp.

He clutched it in his palm while snapping toward the coyote with wide eyes. "Where did you get this?"

Malia didn't appreciate his tone but responded anyway. "The woods. Chimera scent all over it." The were-coyote noticed how his face soaked in a wave of anguish as it reached his ears. 

Stiles took a step back. His hands ran over his hair and his vision blotted with bottled rage. It took him mere moments to connect eyes with Scott before his jaw stiffened in a clenched lock. His grip on the necklace tightened until blood soaked from his palm. 

Stiles leaned his forearms against the blue steel and bowed his head between his shoulders. "No. No, not Dallie." Stiles spoke lowly, danger lacing the tone. "My dad wasn't enough, was he? He had to take her too-"

Scott tried to settle the teen by placing a stray hand atop his back. "Hey, hey, we don't know it's him." 

"Don't tell me what we know." Stiles shoved away his hands before slamming his own against the chest of the Alpha. "Chimera scent? Chimera, Scott? Who do you think that is, huh? Who else digs his claws into everything I love until it's nothing, Scott? Come on. Tell me!" 

He ran his hands through his hair before his fist collided with a locker door, blood already coating the nails. 

"I promised her I'd protect her." Stiles faced the metal as his thumb swiped across the necklace. 

Scott swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "He won't hurt her, Stiles." He promised - and silently hoped himself. Dallas should've known better than to wander places alone. He wondered why she had gone looking for The Dread Doctors - and why she'd done it alone. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Scott felt hurt she didn't trust him enough to come along. 

The Stilinski laughed bitterly. "No?" His head raised from between his slouched shoulders. "No. You're right. He won't." Stiles paused. "Cause I'll kill him if he does. Even if it's a bruise.. or a scratch, or even makes her cry -- god, I swear!-" 

"Stiles!" 

The teenager stopped his pacing and violent threats long enough to fixate his eyes on the werewolf. "Dallas can take care of herself," Scott promised through gritted teeth. "Don't let him distract you. We're so close."

"And what about Dallie?"

Malia stepped forward between the suffocating tension. "I can track her." She stated confidently. "Or I can try.. I'll need something of hers."

Scott lifted both hands, urging one friend in one direction and another with the other. "Okay, Malia-" He caught her attention. "Try her dad's house. If he knows what it's for, he'll let you in." Scott ignored how Stiles shook his head and turned to him. "Stiles, we need to focus on your dad, okay? Trust Malia will never let anything bad happen to her."

The Stilinski remained silent. His fists clenched around her necklace and his teeth grit down into the lower bone of his jaw. He didn't want to agree to it. If he had just let her come with him - help him - she'd still be beside him. To Stiles, this was his fault. And he had to be the one who saved her from it. Stiles Stilinski had to save his Dallie. 

"You find out where she is," Stiles turned to Malia with a sour tone. "But I look for her, okay? I find her."

Malia felt Scott burn stares into her skin before forcing a nod. She didn't care for Stiles and his urge for heroic acts. If she found Dallie, she'd save her. She wouldn't wait for a teenage boy and his baseball bat.

That's if Dallas even needed saving, which by what the Coyote knew of her, was never really a part of her quota. 

"Fine."

Scott's words had become an amalgamation of mumbles and murmurs beside him as he watched her leave. He didn't bother listening to him, instead, focusing on the bruised and bloody face of Theo Raeken. Something he wished to recreate daily. He thought about his hands on Dallas. His voice in her ear and his eyes soaking up her skin. Stiles had to clutch his eyes closed at that point. 

He couldn't think about it - as he could feel the void clawing its way out of him the more he did. 

He couldn't think about any of the things Theo would do to Dallie when she wasn't beside him. How he'd hurt her and taunt her. Force tears from her eyes and power from her veins. Instead, he focused on how he'd make Theo hurt. How he'd recreate each and every injury he found on her - but on Theo - and so much worse. 

Stiles shook silently with subdued rage. 

Why should he suppress Void any longer?

☆ word count: 3,261. ☆

a/n: thunderstorms!!! in the uk!! fucking up my internet!!! yall better stop rn