Unsteady | Sterek

Eighteen: Running wild and running free

The pack gather around the table in Deaton's clinic, tense and quiet and angry. They're waiting on Scott and every minute that passes is a minute that could lead Stiles closer to death. Derek isn't ready to think about that, what would happen if they couldn't...

"Sorry," Scott says, strolling in. "Got held up at home."

Derek's lip pulls back off his teeth but Scott looks unfazed as he braces his hands on the cool metal table. "Now that everyone's bothered to show up," Derek starts, shooting a nasty glare at Scott. The teen boy doesn't look up. "We need a plan."

"The Cleyers Coven is powerful," Deaton says slowly. "But not unbeatable."

"So how do we beat them?" Derek's sick of Deaton's dramatic reveal bullshit. He just wants a plan, not some mystical drabble that doesn't really affect him.

Deaton produces a small jar, filled halfway with a smoky purple powder. "Faebane."

"Faebane?" Scott repeats, confused. "Like wolfsbane?"

Deaton nods. "Exactly like that. Faebane is older than wolfsbane and-"

"Save the history lesson for later," Derek growls. "What the hell are we supposed to do with it?"

Deaton slides the jar over to the tense-as-fuck werewolf, his face resigned. "When you get there, get all the members of the coven into the one room. Throw this and it'll mute their abilities until you can get Stiles out. After that, you're just going to have to pray that they don't come after you straight away."

Isaac pipes up. "What if Stiles is the spark? Will it mute his powers too?"

"If Stiles truly is the spark, then he will grow weaker, lose his strength. If he isn't, as I suspect he is no more than a traumatised boy, then he will be unaffected."

"What about Markis?" Peter asks, silent until now. "His abilities are the same as ours."

Deaton shrugs. "You're gonna have to fight him normally."

"So here's what we're gonna do..."

***

They come for him through the shadows, strong and stealthy. He can't see who. He can't really see anything but a strangling darkness. Stiles doesn't have the strength to protest as someone lifts him up. His head rests on a muscled chest and he breathes in something familiar. He's too tired to really place where he knows it from.

There's muffled shouting and a scream, a woman's scream, before he starts coughing as something powdery settles on his skin. It itches. He groans and throws his head and the person holding him tightens their grip, their chest rumbling as they murmur something lowly.

"No," he breathes, pushing against the arms that cage him. "No please. Leave me alone. I don't-I don't wanna...Please. Please." His voice breaks and he slumps. He can feel the person holding him set him down and then there's snarling and panting and somebody howls in pain. He reaches blindly towards then sound but his hand is left hovering in the darkness as his head falls back and his eyes close.

Only to blink back open moments later as his world tilts and he's picked up again. It's not the same person as before, this body isn't a buff and the scent isn't as comforting but he can't be bothered to complain. He feels oddly like a child as he's carried away from the darkness. He cried out as the light erupts like fire. His eyes snap closed.

"Shut up kid," the person holding him mutters. "You'll lead them right to us."

There's enough of a command in his voice that Stiles obeys, his mind confused and blurry. He really just wants to sleep but there's a sense of urgency in the air and he's afraid he won't wake up. He wants to wake up.

He wants to....He wants to wake up.

He determines that it's sunlight that traces his skin and he risks a look at the person carrying him. He thinks it's Peter but his vision is swirling and he can't really be sure. He murmurs out a low 'wha?' before there's a tugging sensation in his head and he follows the thin tendril of darkness until it expands and swallows him whole.