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“That is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen and it needs to go away now,” Stiles insisted, pointing towards the sofa that was holding the boxes of items that Derek had brought up from the Hale Family Vault to sort through and either put back, give to charity, put into use, or discard.
“That is a child’s toy,” Derek said, laughing as he picked up the doll that had belonged to Cora when she was a toddler. She’d taken the damn thing everywhere with her. It had actually been a bit cute before she’d cut off the blonde braids and chewed on one of the cheeks.
“That is the spawn of Satan and I want, no, I need it out of this house, right this instant!” Stiles barked and Derek could tell he wasn’t kidding, the scent of terror filled the house, so he carried the doll outside and to the trash bins and threw her into the nearest one.
Heading back inside, he was greeted by an armful of Stiles who whispered, “Thank you,” into his neck. Smiling, Derek held him close until they both had to head out to work.
They arrived home around the same time. Stiles was just getting out of his Jeep when Derek pulled up. He grabbed the groceries he’d picked up on the way home while Stiles headed up to unlock the door. He dropped everything and broke into a sprint when Stiles let out an almighty shriek from inside the house. Flying through the foyer, he found Stiles frozen in the living room, one hand over his mouth and the other shakily pointing at the couch.
Following the shaking digit, Derek’s eyes widened when he saw Cora’s doll sitting there, leaned back against the cushions. The smile he used to think was cute had taken on a creepy air and he felt his claws itch with the desire to tear it to shreds.
“I thought you threw it away!” Stiles hissed.
“I did,” Derek hissed back, moving across the floor slowly, hoping it was just an optical illusion when the eyes followed him.
Reaching out, he grabbed the doll and raced out of the house. He kept running until he neared the opposite end of the preserve from the house. Digging into the dirt, he threw the doll into the hole and covered it back up with the dirt. Looking around, he spotted a large flat rock and he grabbed it, groaning slightly from the weight, and placed it over the displaced soil. Satisfied, he ran back to the house to find Stiles lining the doorways with salt.
“I’d tease you, but that was seriously weird,” Derek admitted and even helped Stiles go around the house to line all the entrances and windows.
The next morning, Derek found Stiles at the head of the stairs, waiting for him to walk downstairs with him. Deep down, he knew Stiles was being ridiculous but he let out a breath of relief when the downstairs was doll-free.
That relief lasted until he turned down the road towards the house and saw Stiles standing on the side of the road next to the Jeep, his phone pressed to his ear. He could hear him saying, “Nope. Nope. Big old nope. Never setting foot in that house again.”
Pulling up behind him, Derek climbed out and ‘oofed’ when Stiles dove into him. “Don’t tell me,” Derek said and Stiles shook his head and held up his phone to reveal a photo of the doll, covered in dirt, sitting on the couch again, a trail of dirt leading from off the edge of the photo to the couch.
“Burn it with fire,” Stiles said and Derek sincerely hoped he didn’t mean the entire house but he was creeped out enough himself to consider the idea.
Together, they drove up to the house and went inside. The doll was no longer on the couch and the trail of dirt led up the stairs. “Fuck it,” Stile said, starting to back out the door, the scent of his fear overpowering. Derek watched him until he was sitting in the Jeep, hands clenched around the steering wheel.
Moving up the stairs, following the trail, his nostrils flared as a familiar scent hit him. It was one he was used to being around the house and it explained why he hadn’t picked up on it before; however, it was fresh on the stairs, almost as strong as that of the fresh dirt. “Dammit, Peter,” Derek snarled and raced up the stairs when there was a thud from the direction of the master bedroom.
He slammed the door open just in time to catch Peter snatching the doll off the bed and unsuccessfully try to obscure it behind him. “Seriously? You’re just fucking with us, now?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Not my fault you can’t take a joke.”
Derek growled and lunged, allowing enough room for Peter to dart past him and out of the room. He listened until he heard his footsteps scrambling down the porch steps and then he let out a shout. Shaking his head, Derek headed downstairs, not knowing what to expect, except for pride in his mate.
Sure enough, Derek found Peter standing in the middle of a circle of mountain ash inside a circle of blue fire, his only company in the prison the doll which, creepily enough, was talking. Eyes widening and laughter bursting out of him, he reached for Stiles’ hand and pulled him into the house.
“How long will it last?” Derek asked.
“Until I break it,” Stiles responded. “Think I’m going to take a nap.” Derek laughed and listened to the doll’s voice chattering and Peter’s pleading as he followed his mate upstairs to join him.