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“Because to take away a man's freedom of choice, even his freedom to make the wrong choice, is to manipulate him as though he were a puppet and not a person.”
― Madeleine L'Engle
His dad is bleeding and he can’t find his phone.
Scratch that - his dad is bleeding out and he can’t find his phone.
He reluctantly lets go of his dad’s bloody hand, breaths shakily exhaling, as he runs his hands over and through his pockets. But it’s not there.
His dad is dying and he can’t find his damn phone.
He’d run all the way the way here. He’d have to run even further to get help.
They didn’t have time for that.
The warehouse is dark and wet and Stiles can’t see shit. It doesn’t stop him from blindly running his hands over the damp floor.
“No, no, no...” he mumbles, desperation and panic fuelling his movements.
His dad hands twitches weakly, a frightening gurgling sound bubbling up from his throat, and Stiles abandons his useless search for his phone, immediately going back to his dad’s side.
“Dad... dad...” Stiles murmurs, tears springing to his eyes as he gathers his dad’s cold hand within his own. “Please don’t,” he begs. “Please don’t die. I need you.”
His dad doesn’t respond and Stiles lets go with one of his hands to plant a now bloody one against the side of his face.
“I need to get help, dad...” he says. He knows that there’s not enough time, not enough time to run somewhere to make one goddamned phone call. “So just open your eyes for me. Tell me you’re gonna be okay. Yeah?”
His dad’s eyes remain closed and the fingers that were clasped around his hand fall lax. Stiles lets a shuddering sob out, his head falling to his father’s chest. The weak beat against his fingers tell him he’s still alive, but barely.
He doesn’t want to let go.
Because if he does he knows they’re won’t be any coming back.
A sound from behind startles him and he flinches around.
“What are you doing here?”
Theo’s silhouette stands in the doorway. He’s shadowed a by a group of people. It’s not until they all step forward, as one, that Stiles sees it’s not who Theo had originally intended as pack.
“Where are they?” Stiles demands, worry tinting he’s fray-ness .
“Alive,” Theo says as he walks in and around Stiles. He circles him, surveying the bloody mess, tutting slightly.
Stiles bites his lip angrily. Theo did this. He did it. He wants to get up and claw at him with his nails, punch him over and over. Make him bleed and...and...
Stiles sucks in a breath.
No.
That wasn’t him.
He wouldn’t give it to him.
“Scott?” he asks sharply.
“You don’t need to worry about him anymore, Stiles...” Theo says.
“What?” Stiles asks quietly. “What do you mean?”
“Shh...” Theo says just as quietly, crouching down next to him. A hand reaches out and strokes down the side of his face.
“Get the fuck off me!” Stiles snaps, shoving at him.
“I want you, Stiles...” Theo says, anger quickly morphing his features. He suddenly grabs at the back of Stiles head and yanks hard on Stiles hair. The movement wrenches his head back, bearing his neck to him.
“You want Void,” Stiles hisses at him. He desperately wants out of the hold so that he can go back to his dad. “That’s not me.”
“I want you,” Theo insists, whispering into his ear. “I can’t get any of the others, so I had create my own, but you Stiles... I had to have you and if I can’t have you then I’m going to have to take you. I’d rather you came willingly though.”
Stiles tries to shake himself free when Theo abruptly releases him and pushes his face down close to his dad.
“That’s a lot of blood, Stiles...” Theo says, calmly as though Stiles’ dad wasn’t bleeding out beneath them. He shoves his hand in front of his face as he shows him the blood over his own fingers from where he had caressed Stiles face. “You’re covered in it.”
Stiles flinches and tries to pull away.
“Have you called for help?” Theo asks.
Stiles doesn’t answer.
“I don’t think you have,” Theo says, lips twitching in amusement. “Since I have your phone.”
He pulls it out of his pocket and waves it at him.
“You dropped it when you went a bit cray cray on me.”
Stiles reaches for it, stupidly thinking he could swipe it from his hands, but werewolf reactions have Stiles face down on the floor with Theo straddling him before he even registers what’s happened.
Theo laughs airily above him as he pushes his face into the cold floor.
“I could call for help on my phone,” he tells him. “But that’s going to be a bit too suspicious. Your phone though, not so much. So million dollar question, Stiles. Do you want your dad to live?”
“Fuck off,” Stiles yells, voice muffled as Theo grinds his face into the ground, tearing his skin with the loose, rough stones against his cheek. He shuts his eyes in pain.
“I can’t do that, Stiles...” Theo says, hot breaths against his ear. “I already told you that I want you.”
“Just leave me alone,” Stiles begs, tears running down his face and mingling with the dampness beneath. He’s hurting and wet and he just wants his dad to be okay. “Just go. Leave the phone. I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
“I don’t think you’re getting it,” Theo reminds him as he pats Stiles exposed hand, resting more of his weight over him. “Either way you’re coming with me. You might as well save your dad and come by choice. There’s no need for anyone else to die. Is there?”
“Theo, please...” A sob breaks the please into broken, drawn out words.
“He’s dying, Stiles...” the words ghost over him, chilling him even more. “Look at him.”
“No...” Stiles tries to shake his head, scraping his skin even more.
“Look!” Theo orders over him, grabbing at his face with one hand, pinching between his fingers. The pain and pressure makes his eyes spring open in discomfort. From this angle he could see how much blood had pooled around his dad, now seeping into the edges of both Stiles and Theo’s clothes. “Do you want him to live?”
When Stiles doesn’t respond straight away Theo shakes him roughly, “Do you?”
“Yes!” Stiles yells out angrily, tasting blood in his mouth.
Theo pulls him up again so he’s sitting and rests a cool and gentle hand against the side of his face. Stiles flinches against it but Theo just rounds into him even more, holding him firmly.
“Come with me,” Theo says. “And I promise you he’ll get the help he needs. His heartbeat is still there, Stiles. You make the right choice and help will come in time.”
He feels trapped - both within Theo’s hold and from the predicament he was in. Theo made it sound like he actually had a choice. It was a mind-game. A fucking mind game. Manipulation and mind-fuckery. Just like he’d been doing from the start.
“You don’t want him to die? Do you?” Theo asks, reaching out to wipe at the tears glistening over his cheek with his thumb.
“No,” Stiles says brokenly, shaking his head.
It’s his dad. He has to do this
Theo huffs proudly next to him, patting him on the back and Stiles sags weakly in Theo’s hold. His phone appears in front of his face, 911 already numbered into the screen.
“Make the call. Tell them the Sheriff’s condition and location only,” Theo says. “Nothing else or I will gut him before you even take your next breath.” Theo smiles a creepily reassuring smile and pats his dad’s pant leg and Stiles gulps, feeling bile rise.
“Okay,” he says slowly, taking the phone from Theo’s outstretched hand.
Once the call is made Theo takes the phone back from his shaking fingers.
Stiles flops to the side, back the dirty floor, feeling weak and exposed. He reaches with outstretched fingers until they’re clasping his dad’s hand again.
“Be okay,” he whispers. “Be okay. Please be okay.”
“You did good, Stiles...” Theo says proudly, reaching over and rearranging Stiles body, slowly pulling his hand away from his dad. Stiles stay lax in Theo’s hands, even as the other boy drags him to his feet, and he doesn’t even know if it’s just because he’s weak or stubborn - because he sure as hell isn’t making it easy for Theo.
“You did really good,” Theo is telling him as he finally sets him back on his feet, putting an arm around his shoulders to steady him as he staggers off to the side.
Theo leads him away from his dad towards the warehouse opening and the surrounding people - pack - part with them, allowing them to walk between them. He realizes, a little belatedly, that Hayden and Tracey and that freakazoid who tried to shred him on the hospital roof are there and he looks around at them disorientated, feeling Theo tug him into his side tightly, possessively - Stiles couldn’t run if he tried. He tries to block out Theo’s words with each step.
“You’re mine, Stiles. You were always the one. And I know you don’t want this but that’s okay. We still have time. We’ll work it out together. I’m gonna fix this. I’m going to make you pack.”
Fin