♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 twenty-five

scream!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS LAY HER HEAD on her hand as she listened to Miss Blake. Her manicured nails tapped against the oak wood of her desk while she rubbed the pink gloss on her lips. 

"Good Morning." the teacher stood before the chalkboard and spoke with a heavy heart. "As you all know, Mr. Harris is still missing - I mean, sick. - Anyway, I'm filling in while we all hope and pray for a more qualified substitute to take my place. Okay, so let's get started, shall we?"

There had been a recent flair in accidents recently and even more murders before that - all including healers. Stiles chewed anxiously on his pen and nudged Scott. "Hey, my dad said that the ER wasn't strangled but died from asphyxiation. They just don't know how."

"Do you think that the on-call doctor could still be alive?" The werewolf whispered. During the hospital craze, one of Melissa's coworkers had fallen missing and was yet to be found - alive or dead.

"I don't know, but Scott, there's got to be at least 20 other doctors in that hospital." Stiles tried to control his jittery leg. "Any one of them could be next."

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Noah Stilinski stood in front of James Garcia, conversing with him and his deputy. "Have you ever seen anything like this? Any old cases you've covered?" The Sheriff seemed royally confused by the sudden disappearances in town. They were all stood in Deaton's pet clinic and came to the terrifying realisation that he, too, was now missing.

James shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He crossed his arms. "But I'll help any way I can."

The two was cut off by Scott McCall, who entered the pet clinic frantically with a broken look plastered across his features. He knew exactly what had happened.

Meanwhile, at home, Dallas bounced the beauty blender across her skin and fluffed her hair up in the vanity mirror. Although, her routine came to a halt as she heard the soft knocking against her front door. Curiously, she dropped her makeup brushes and took small steps down her staircase.

The rain pattered against the concrete but was overpowered by faint sniffling. Pulling the door open by its cold handle, Dallie furrowed her eyebrows at Lydia Martin, who's mascara had become smudged with tears. 

"Lydia?" She mumbled out. Her strawberry blonde hair was tucked underneath her fur hood and her hands shoved into the pockets."

The Martin wiped her eyes and sighed wearily. "Can I come in?" 

Dallas stuttered over her sentences rather confusedly before nodding. "Yeah, of course." She stood aside. Lydia slipped the jacket over her shoulders and hung it on the coathanger before glancing up at her best friend. Despite their rocky relationship, Lydia felt as if she was the only person she could truly rely on. 

"Is your dad here?" 

Dallas shook her head, still rather confused. "No, why?" she crossed her arms and took a step towards her. "What's wrong?"

Lydia gave her a defeated chuckle before heading to the kitchen, the Latina in pursuit, and slipping James Garcia's whiskey from the cabinet and flicking the cap off. "I found a dead body."

The youngest Garcia remained silent for a few moments. "You what?"

"I found a dead body," she repeated, gulping down the alcohol and scrunching up her face at the bitter taste. "But that's not the worst part." 

"It gets worse?" she sat beside Lydia and ran comforting circles on her back. The girl offered her a box of tissues, which seemed like a more stable consoler than the alcohol she was sipping. 

Pushing the red hair behind her ear and placing the bottle down on the marble counter, the redhead glanced at the brunette. "Because... It was like - like I knew it was there." she cut herself off, noticing the pretty dress and careful makeup Dallas wore. "Are you going somewhere?" 

Dallas inhaled sharply and fixed her posture. "Well, I, uh, had a date with Louis." she watched as Lydia's eyes widened before wiping them and standing up.

"I didn't know, I'm sorry," she muttered out, almost too fast to decipher. "I'll go."

Abruptly, her arm was gently pulled back by the Latina's hand. "Hey, wait," she spoke with comfort and sympathy. "Why don't you stay over? You can tell me everything. I'm not just gonna leave you, Lyds."

Lydia felt guilt strike her in the gut. In many ways, she felt as if she didn't deserve Dallas. Sometimes she wouldn't be the greatest of friends but she was trying to be better - trying to be the person the girl knew she was. 

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles Stilinski stood before Cora Hale, pouring out complaints to her one after another. "Where's Derek?"

Cora turned her back from the symbol that was plastered across the windows in tape and met his eyes. "Away."

The Stilinski ran a hand through his hair and gave her a baffled look. "Okay, so is two days standard then?"  he spoke with a sarcastic tone, pacing around the loft. "Or are we thinking Derek's on, like, some extended getaway?"

She turned to him, hands shoved in pockets and face sour. "Why do you care?"

The boy let out an overdramatic scoff. "Why do I care? Let's see, because over the last few weeks, my best friend's has almost died, his boss is missing, a girl that I've known since I was three was ritually sacrificed, Boyd was killed by a bunch of Alpha's.." he trailed off. "Do you want me to keep going? Cause I can - for like, an hour."

"You think Derek can do anything about that?" Cora responded patronisingly, taking a few steps towards the erratic teenager.

"Well, since he's the one everyone seems to be after, it's more like he should do something about it. Yeah." 

Cora leant against the metallic table that stood in the centre of the room and left out a hefty sigh. "I don't know, there's something different about him now." she let her eyes fall to the floor. "He wasn't like this when I knew him." 

Stiles' plaid jacket blew in the wind that circulated around the loft as he shared a look with her. "What was he like?"

Out of the blue, Peter Hale spoke up from the tip of the staircase. "A lot like Scott, actually." he continued to make his way down the spiral stairs and ignored the glare that came from the Stilinski. "A lot like most teenagers. Unbearably romantic, profoundly narcissistic.. tolerable to only other teenagers."

The teen knitted his eyebrows and crossed his arms at the Lycans. "So what happened? What changed him?"

Peter pondered momentarily and pursed his lips. "Well, the same thing that changes a lot of young men." he began. "A girl." 

Stiles scoffed. "You're telling me some girl broke his little heart?" he spoke without sympathy, which seemed hypocritical at the time since he had just as much heartache from his bleak situation with Dallas Garcia. "That's why Derek is the way he is?"

Peter Hale rolled his eyes and turned to his niece. "Not just any girl." he reminisced. "This one destroyed his life. Do you remember what Derek was like before he was an Alpha? Before he had blue eyes?"

The human glanced between them. "I always thought that was a genetic thing."

Peter shook his head. "No, we have a system," the man explained. "Every breed is different, like vampires, sirens, wendigoes and such." he stopped himself from revealing too much information. "But before the Hale fire, we had a pretty large pack. Take the druids for example."  he then glanced to Cora who finished for him.

"We had one in our pack years ago, but they remained a secret. Sometimes only the Alpha knew who exactly they were." she inhaled sharply. "Derek and I had no idea about Deaton."

Peter Hale stood next to her, butting in not-so-graciously. "Or his sister, Morell."

Stiles' eyes widened as he sat down at the table and listened. "She's an emissary, too?"

The eldest Hale nodded. "For the Alpha pack." 

"Our guidance counsellor?" he spoke with disbelief while the werewolves seemed pretty unfazed.  "Why the hell don't you people tell me any of this stuff?"

"Looking back, Marilyn probably knew the whole time," Peter spoke mainly to himself. "She was the first Siren we had in the pack."

Stiles glanced up, connecting the dots quicker than anticipated. "Dallie's mother was a siren, too?"

Cora didn't remember much of Marilyn Garcia, mainly because she was far too young. Peter Hale, however, had maintained a rather close friendship with her - Derek also. "Like I said, every breed is different."

"I don't get it." Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Then why can't you just get more. Why do you need Dallas?"

Cora awaited an answer too. She had never met Dallas, nor even knew that Marilyn had a child to begin with. "The curse of the Siren is an inherited one, but it can only be activated through death." he swallowed. "It's rare to find one that is willing to give up their human life for it, even rarer to find someone who already has. Sometimes it's better to just make the decision for them."

"That's why you killed her, isn't it?" Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You wanted her to be apart of your pack."

"We don't have a siren in the pack anymore, Stiles, do you want to know why?" Peter stated remorsefully, ignoring the stares of Stiles and Cora. "Because we barely have a pack to begin with, thanks to Derek. Half of it was burned to the ground or tracked down by hunters, much like Marilyn was.. And now, he has blames himself. He blames himself because he fell in love with Kate Argent."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Lydia sat up next to Dallas, hugging her scented pillow and explaining the day out to her best friend. "It was like something was calling me." Dallie's ears pricked up. Perhaps Lydia was hearing the same things she was. "Like I was supposed to find it."

"Was it like... humming?" she gave her a knowing look. The strawberry blonde scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"No." she began, noticing the disappointed look on her face. "Why? What's going on?"

She swallowed dryly. "I don't know if it's just my mind playing tricks on me.. but I feel different now." she examined her hands. "It's like how I somehow woke up in the morgue, you know? I asked all the doctors and not one of them can explain it," she explained as the girl listened intently. "I assumed it was some super rare phenomenon, but now I'm not so sure." 

"Watch." Lydia furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled a pin from her hair, digging the sharp part into her thumb and forming a scratch. Suddenly, dots of blood formed around the gash, but before they could spill, the skin stitched itself back together. "How the hell do I explain that?"

☆ word count: 1,864 ☆

a/n: sorry for the lackluster chapter but i had to change alot here and include some more backstory so whoops