The Sicilian Defence [Derek Hale]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Looking up at the ceiling, I tried to find something to distract myself with. Anything to stop the constant paranoia. I'd played out a couple of chess games in my own head but they were over far too quickly. I had yet to feel any pain so I assumed that meant there were no complications. I had taken to lying on the floor in a way which probably wasn't good for my back. My feet were propped up against the wall and my head on the floor. I was upside down. It was something I'd learnt that during the full moons if you look up to the sky whether it be the dark night or the ceiling, it was easier to control the shift. It was like you were taken out of your body and reminded how small we really are. How insignificant in the grand scheme of things we were.

"Have any of you ever considered the fact that all those books like twilight and all that junk... do you think the authors actually know about the existence of the supernatural?" I asked, but I didn't give them any time to respond, "I mean... do you think Mary Shelley knew about it?"

"You think that Frankenstein's monster was based off a real creature?" Peter asked his voice emphasising how stupid my idea could have been. "You can't bring people back from the dead," he scoffed.

"... You came back from the dead," I pointed out.

"I can't take waiting around like this, you know?" Stiles suddenly cut in, and I lifted my back ever so slightly to see what he was doing, "It's nerve-wracking. My nerves are wracked. They're severely wracked. Wracked!" Stiles repeated and Peter sighed from his position on the couch.

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it's over..."

"You think Erica's really dead?" Stiles finally asked as he turned to look over at Peter.

"You think I really care?" Peter scoffed.

"You should," I countered and he looked at me with his brow raised, "you care about Derek... so... effectively what happens to Erica and Boyd is going to impact Derek's mental health to a significant degree and you'll end up being impacted by that," I explained.

"What makes you think I care about Derek?"

"He's not dead."

His frustrating chuckle was heard throughout the room, "you're smarter than you look."

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and consider that a compliment." Stiles stopped pacing. Why had he stopped pacing? "What is it?" I asked trying to meet his eyes, but it was hard when you were in an awkward position.

"I just...I don't understand the bank, though, okay? Wha... Like, why wouldn't they chain them up in some underground lair or something? They're an Alpha Pack, right? So, shouldn't they have a lair?" Stiles asked. That sounded ever so slightly ridiculous even in my eyes. Was he forgetting that we all lived places. I suppose I jumped between places, but the rest lived places.

"They're Werewolves, not Bond villains."

"Wait a sec, wait a sec-- maybe they're living there, you know? Like, maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens!" Stiles explained and both me and Peter grew more confused by his strange comments. I hadn't been a werewolf for long, but this was just getting weird.

"Wolf dens?"

"Yeah, wolf dens!" He said, completely serious about it. Perhaps that was the strange part about it. "Where do you live?"

"In an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods..." Peter trailed off and Stiles fell open in amazement.

"Whoa, really?"

"No, you idiot!" He scoffed, "I have an apartment downtown."

"Okay, fine, but still, that just proves that there's something up with the bank," Stiles explained. He was so caught up on it. Maybe there was something, but none of it was coming to my own mind. "And why wait around for the full moon, huh? Why not just kill them whenever they want to?"