Chapter Text
The new moon hung low over the freeway, and wind howled like a wolf through the cars. It was a cool winter night, and the traffic was gridlocked, drivers could just make out collapsed bridge further down the road. The radio struggled to pick up a signal, tuning in and out of the traffic updates. The wind was picking up, and Stiles muttered something about a storm coming in.
The cars rolled forward slightly and stopped abruptly. Somebody leaned on their horn as they narrowly avoided colliding with the car in front, despite it being their own fault.
Scott tapped his fingers on the car door, staring out onto the traffic beside them. An elderly couple bickered over a map while their grandchildren slept in the back, unaware they’d been virtually non-moving for two hours. In front, a woman fought with her conscience. The longer she stayed in traffic, the longer she stayed away. Scott could hear her heartbeat, hear her struggle.
“Okay, so, I may have been wrong when I said this was a shortcut,” Stiles said, switching off his jeep’s engine. It was clear they were going nowhere, and he didn’t want to drain his car’s battery.
“You think?” Scott replied, a slight smirk on his face.
“It’s not like I knew this would happen, Scott. I didn’t wake up today wanting to sit in traffic for the rest of the nigh-”
Scott’s ears perked up as he heard a distant rumbling. What was that?
“Stiles,” Scott warned, hoping he would take the cue to be quiet. There was a flash of lighting, which illuminated the entire road. Thunder clapped directly above them, the wind picking up quickly.
“What’s happening?” Stiles looked out of the window towards the sky, which had turned a shade of grey he had come to associate with violent storms.
“Dry storm?” Scott suggested, hoping the uneasy feeling in his stomach would pass. Something felt wrong, the air felt charged with something… unnatural. Something abnormal was about to happen, Scott could sense it.
The ground beneath them shuddered, the car shaking from side to side.
This was no dry storm.
The freeway was lit again as sheet lightning flashed, followed by a lightning fork hitting the gantry above their heads. What the fuck?
People outside were screaming, some leaving their cars and scattering in all different directions. Scott saw the elderly grandparents hobbling across the road, grandchildren in their arms.
Scott looked to his friend, unsure what to do. Stiles unbuckled his belt and steadied himself against the frame of the car as the earth gave another shake.
Stiles jumped out of the car, as the earth shifted. The gantry above them made a horrific screech as it struggled to stay up, rattling with the floor. Car alarms blared, and Scott felt like he was going into sensory overload, too much to hear, feel, see.
“Scott, come on, we have to go,” Stiles shouted over the noise of the gantry. “Scott!” He grabbed Scott’s wrist, dragging him with him. It was unlike him to be so seemingly oblivious, but Stiles knew he was hearing so much more than anyone else, he knew Scott would be trying to tune it all out.
The ground shook again, then stilled. The gantry gave a sickening crunch then snapped in half. Half stood still, and the other rocked back and forth before falling backwards, towards Scott and Stiles. Stiles froze, he couldn’t move if he tried, mesmerised by the falling gantry.
Stiles felt himself being dragged backwards and he covered his head, expecting to crushed. He heard the smash of glass and looked around. It had landed inches from him.
“Shit!” He exclaimed, head whipping around to find Scott holding his arm, breathing heavily. He had to fight to stay human.
The earth gave another shudder, and the sky was lit up once more. The wind whipped and Stiles held his hand up to his face, reaching behind him to find Scott, realising the grip had loosened. He was gone. Stiles pivoted, and saw Scott running the other way.
“Scott, wrong way, you’re going-”
He saw Scott jump across one car, landing on the next. He jumped on another, balancing himself as the earth shook. He leaped forward, landing next to a white car, looking inside and around the window. He smashed the car window, reaching in so far only his legs were visible, and pulled a tiny baby from inside.
Everyone else had left the road, there was no knowing where or who its parents were. Scott ran back towards Stiles, holding the baby to his body, protecting it from debris flying around them.
Stiles ran, Scott a few steps behind him. The sky lit up again, everything suddenly becoming calm, like the eye of the storm. They stopped, unsure where to go or what to do.
“Stiles, get down!” Scott yanked Stiles to him, and they dropped to the floor, Scott cradling the baby. The sky flashed green, splitting, with a light shining to the ground a few miles away. The sky boomed, rumbling loudly; fork lightning landed a few feet from them.
“That’s Beacon Hills!” Stiles heard Scott shout over the wind.
The baby beneath him cried, and he pulled it closer to him, trying to comfort it. The earth gave a final earth splitting shudder. Two cars slipped into the crack, landing sideways with a deafening crunch.
Everything stilled, though Stiles kept his eyes on the light streaming down to Beacon Hills. His dad was down there. His best friends were down there.
Suddenly the light fragmented and sent shockwaves in every direction. Glass shattered, raining down on them. Stiles looked up, cuts on his face and arms. Scott brushed the glass from Stiles’ hair, making sure he was okay.
“What the fuck was that?” Stiles shouted, sure he had irreparable damage to his ears. The baby beneath Scott was screaming, and he checked it over, hushing it gently.
Stiles’ phone was ringing and he answered without even looking, hoping it was his dad. Before he could speak, screaming came over the line.
“Lydia? Lydia?” He shouted. Was she screaming in pain? Or was it a Banshee’s scream? He couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t get her to answer him. He needed to know she was okay, that their friends were okay.
“They’re all going to die.” Lydia rasped, her voice tired and worn. Who? Who was going to die? Stiles couldn’t ask. He was frozen in fear. The line went dead, the dial tone letting him know the call was over. Stiles’ mouth felt dry and his legs were shaking, all his adrenaline leaving his body. He breathed for a second, hoping to find something to say. His mouth worked before his brain:
“Scott, what the fuck?”