Brother || Teen Wolf

Chapter 49 - The side effects of being in the way

To say that Stiles was growing anxious was a vast understatement.

He had lost sight of Scott what seemed like a lifetime ago, Jamie and Lydia were nowhere to be found and worst of all, Coach was constantly finding him in the crowd to apologize for his previous behavior. A million thoughts swarmed his brain, not a single one of them pleasant. Tired of doing nothing but stand around, avoiding nosy people's questions as to why he was alone, he decided to take action.

His first step towards the door was the hardest one to take. All these weeks, he had complained about how Scott was always the one swooping in to save the day while he was in the background (which, more often than not, was his Jeep) but as he made his way through the crowd, avoiding dancing teenagers, he could feel a weight on his shoulders. It was something he knew all too well and that he greeted like an old acquaintance: doubt.

Doubt was working its way inside Stiles' head, forcing him to face a truth he hated. Put in simple terms, Stiles had no idea what he was doing. For once, he didn't have a plan. At this point, he'd consider himself lucky even if he had the mere concept of a plan. He had envisioned all kind of scenarios yet he had failed to predict that he and his friends would get separated.

Swallowing hard, he forbade his mind to visit darker places and pushed the double doors open, suppressing a shiver when his hands came into contact with the cold metal. He blinked a few times for his eyes to adapt to the night, deciding against using his phone as a flash light by fear of attracting unwanted attention. Taking a sharp intake of breath and summoning all the courage he could muster, Stiles took in his surroundings. A distant light to his right attracted his gaze, bringing his legs to start moving in that direction.

He was walking slower than he'd care to admit when he recognized the Lacrosse field, illuminated by painfully bright lights. Odd, he thought, for when he had arrived to the formal, the lights were all off. He knew walking towards the lights without calling anyone for help was a mistake, yet he couldn't stop. Now that his legs had been put into motion, it was as if they had a mind of their own and he could only witness himself going head first into danger, with no one to help him if things were to go wrong.

Whatever unknown force had been pushing him forward vanished the second he saw silhouettes on the field. There were two of them, a man and a girl. The man was tall, menacing and familiar in a way that made a cold sweat run along Stiles' neck. Especially when he saw that his eyes were glowing red and that his fingers were adorned with claws. And the girl, Stiles knew her all too well. He had spent so many hours admiring her beauty from afar that he could recall every detail of her in an instant.

But there was nothing beautiful about this moment. Lydia's face was a mask of terror and pain, exposed under the field's harsh lights, and Stiles could only look as Peter dug his claws into her throat. For Stiles, just for a second, time froze and everything was clear. Instinctively, he knew he would remember this very instant for the rest of his life. He reached out his hand and a strangled cry left his throat, but neither reached Lydia as she fell to the ground. She remained graceful even in agony, despite the blood curling scream that left her lips and shattered the silence.

Stiles didn't think. Instead, he ran towards her, hoping beyond reason to catch her before her back touched the grass, before her scream ended. He no longer cared about Peter, about the danger he was rushing into. He only cared about Lydia, the girl he'd had a crush on for so long and who needed his help, right there, right then, no matter the cost.

Maybe, if Stiles hadn't been solely focused on Lydia, he would have noticed how she wasn't falling to the ground, but on someone who had fallen before her. Maybe he would have seen Jamie earlier and saved himself the gut wrenching pain, the guilt of not noticing his best friend sooner. This time, it was Stiles who froze and not time itself. He felt like screaming, crying, punching something, all at the same time. He didn't understand anything anymore, and nothing made sense.

Like how Jamie didn't even flinch when Lydia fell and her head landed on his chest. How she didn't try to get back on her feet and wake Jamie up. How both of them had their eyes closed, and how their skins were tainted with red.

Stiles was caught in a haze. He knew someone was talking to him and shaking him with so much strength it would leave marks on his shoulders, but he couldn't respond. His eyes were fixated on the scene before him, on a detail that caught his attention and that told the story of how brutal the attack had been: Jamie was missing his left shoe, and Stiles couldn't see it anywhere. That small fact became incredibly important to Stiles, because Jamie was going to survive this, he was going to wake up, and then he was going to need his shoes. Both of them.

A loud roar was what brought Stiles back to the present. It was like someone had flipped a switch and Stiles suddenly blinked, tearing his eye away from Jamie's exposed foot. Peter was glaring at him with so much hatred it seemed to be radiating off of him in waves.

"You're the clever one, aren't you?" Peter sneered through his teeth, not sparing Lydia and Jamie a glance. Grabbing Stiles' chin between his fingers, he growled, "Tell me how to find Derek and I'll spare their lives."

Peter's words were the incentive Stiles needed for his mind to come back to him, quicker and sharper than it ever had been. Lives were on the line and if Jamie and Lydia were to die because of him, well... he simply would never be able to forgive himself. Five plans came up to him, four of them being ways to fool Peter and let him rot in a place worse than Hell, all of them equally tempting. Stiles was about to open his mouth when Peter's hold tightened.

"Don't lie to me, Stiles. Deception has a particularly acrid scent."

Saying this, Peter let his eyes wander on the growingly cold bodies of Lydia and Jamie in a silent threat. Gulping, Stiles made a choice. To hell with punishing Peter, to hell with making him pay -- he needed his friends alive and well, and if that implied helping a mass murderer end yet another life, then he'd gladly do it.

"Scott's phone," Stiles said, his voice hoarse from the emotions he was trying to suppress. "Derek, I think he knew he was going to get caught--"

"So what?" Peter asked in a tone sharper than steel.

"He knew he was going to get caught and he stole Scott's phone," Stiles explained. It was a long shot, but he hoped he was right as he kept talking. "Scott's phone has GPS, so if it's still on and Derek has it, then you'll be able to locate him."

Peter didn't answer straight away, his silence sending Stiles down a spiral of anguish. Instead of speaking, the werewolf took a sharp intake of breath and tasted Stiles' emotions, looking for deceit. He could smell terror, anxiety, pain and grief in equal parts, but nothing else. A nod of the Alpha's head told Stiles he had passed his test. However, when Peter gestured for them to get moving, Stiles didn't follow. It took all of his courage to speak up.

"No, I'm not... I'm not leaving them here," he stammered, willing himself to hold eye contact.

"Yes you are. You don't have a choice, Stiles."

Stiles shook his head, not trusting his voice. He was going against the will of a creature who could very well kill him for it and he was ready to face the consequences. He had to try.

"Okay," Peter sighed, clearly annoyed to be wasting his time on something so pointless. "Text your friend. Text Jackson, and let him know where they are. That's all you get."

The wave of relief that overcame Stiles was something so powerful he couldn't find the words for it. He texted Jackson and followed Peter away from the bloody scene, into the darkness that surrounded the Lacrosse field. He hated himself for leaving his friends like this, and he didn't need to look back for the image of their unmoving bodies to appear before his eyes. As they reached the edge of the woods, Stiles felt his foot bump into something. It was Jamie's shoe, covered in mud and ruined beyond repair. Stiles swallowed hard and cursed his superstitious mind for turning a lost shoe into an omen of impending doom.

For now, he could only hope Jackson would get to his friends in time. As for himself, he'd do his best to prevent Peter from going back to finish the job -- even if it cost him his life.