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Stiles was bored to say the least. He refused to come out of his bedroom to face the wrath of his dad, knowing he would be all over him, pestering him as always (but he still loved him dearly, of course he does). And not to mention his pack.
He never understood the big deal of it. Why was he so special? Ever since he was possessed, he was be treated like a piece of glass that was broken, needed to be fixed. He didn't need fixing. He was perfectly fine.
Stiles was completely absorbed in his thoughts, pondering and fantasizing about methods to get away, to leave.
But they needed him here. His people, his father, his pack. They needed him.
And so, Stiles unlocks his door and flings it open, walking out into the suddenly dark hallway. He brushes it off and begins to look for his pack, first going to the kitchen.
He had just passed the upstairs bathroom when he saw it, blood.
The dark crimson color, running down a nearby window, sticky and oozing. He froze. What the actual hell?
He hastily walks over to the nearest room, happening to be the same very room he was just in a few hours earlier. His baseball bat had the moonlight shining down on it.
He glances at the bat and not giving a second thought, he grabs it, defying Past-Stiles promise to never pick it up again. He didn't care, he had to protect himself somehow.
He continued his walk downstairs, but more cautious and alert than ever. This bad was very heavy for his weak arms, he walked so slow, you could barley tell he was moving.
Suddenly, a crash. From the next room over which he just passed by. Stiles jerks his body to face the room.
He moves the bat in front of him. "Come out you big 'ol pussy!" he says, trying to sound confident but knowing he sounds scared.
Then he feels it, the sharp pain in his lower thigh. He falls to the floor, dropping the bat and letting out a scream. Shit.
He, still on the floor, wiggles to reach his bat that he accidentally dropped. But to no prevail, as someone was standing on its handle. Stiles groans in pain. "Well, well, well, looky here," a voice calls out in a mocking tone.
Stiles gets on his good knee and pushes himself up, not letting this stranger get the satisfaction they so wanted.
"Big, strong, Stiles," the voice sneered at him, Stiles growled, "or should I say," another piercing pain, this time in his arm. "Weak, pathetic, human," another cut. "Stiles." The voice says and sheaths their axe.
Stiles collapses to the ground. His body becoming weaker as time moves on. Cuts now littered his small body. The one on his thigh, his arm, and the worst one, one running down over his left eye.
His vision was becoming blurry in the eye, filling with blood. Everything was merging together as one. This poor boy couldn't see the figure in front of him.
"Aw poor Stiles," the voice snickers at him, "Are you hurt? Maybe big bad Alpha Hale will come save you?" The voice speaks, pretending to cry, "Oh! Maybe even Scott!"
Stiles just lays on the cold tile, unable to process what was happening. What could he do? Nothing. He doesn't know how to fight, let alone even try when he was injured.
He feels the handle of the bat, he barley reaches an arm out and places a singular finger on it.
"Do you mind," the voice now stepping into the moonlight from the window, shown a man, dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. "Do you mind," the man steps closer to Stiles, axe raised, "if I just put you out of your misery!" The man yells excitedly and brings his sword down to Stiles' chest.
A loud clang. The man gasps, "How- you-" he stampers. Stiles brings his gaze down at his arm. Stiles' bat, blocking the hit that could've been fatal to him.
Stiles, surprised, gasps and backs away, the bat clanging to the ground. How did I just do that? he wonders, was it magic?
The man notices and regains his cockiness, "what's the matter, human? Surprised you're still alive?"
Stiles shakes his head, words seeming too dry out on his tongue. Soon enough, Stiles is cornered into a wall, no way to escape this nightmare. The bat laying on the ground where he was perviously.
"I-I am, honestly," Stiles tells the man, taking a deep breath before continuing, "it's been a few months s-since I've had any action."
The man glares at him before unsheathing his axe and pointing it right at his nose.
"W-what do you want?" Stiles asks. The man laughs. "Just, you know, chaos and destruction," he shrugs. "And you will be a great help," he smirks, "just like how your father was."
Stiles, now paralyzed with fear and anger. "Don't touch me, you creep!" Stiles screams. The man slowly approaching Stiles, axe in hand.
"It's okay," the man says venomously, "it'll all be over soon." He laughs. Stiles shakes his head, I'm going to die, this is it.
Stiles closes his eyes. He can hear the man now picking his pace up towards him.
Time seemed to slow down. He could hear his rapid heartbeat inside him, going at an ungodly pace. He could feel the blood running down his face, tinging his skin. He could taste the bitterness of ichor on his tongue.
He is startled when he hears a loud crash. Stiles reopens his eyes and notices the man on the ground, who is restrained by something. Confused, he moves a little closer out in the light. Soon he notices his best friend/brother, Scott, has charged at the man, causing them both to go crashing to the floor. Scott puts the man in a headlock.
"What do you think you're doing to my brother?!" Scott shouts at the man, spit flying into the mans face, Scott was furious. The man, whom shouldn't be but is, smirks. "As I told him, chaos and destruction," he smiles evilly towards Stiles.
Stiles still bleeding and confused watches this unfold. "Stiles, stay away!" Scott shouts at him but the words muffling in Stiles' brain. "Derek!" Scott screams his heart out, hoping he's nearby.
Derek comes running into the scene. His face instantly draining of color when he notices Stiles covered in his own blood.
"Stiles!" Derek calls out to him, sprinting towards him. Again, time froze. Stiles, eyes wandering the scene. Scott was on top of the man who had earlier attacked him, but his gaze was fixed on Stiles. Derek, yelling at him and rushing at him. The man, still smirking, god Stiles wanted to smack that smirk off his face.
And the other figure. Wait. Other figure?
---
So there they were, Scott battling his own strength with the man. Derek fighting tooth and nail to keep Stiles here. What could possibly go wrong?
After all, Stiles was alright, just a little bruised up but he would be alright, he always was. He was still bewildered and perplexed on the other figure. How? and more importantly, why?
Stiles was luckier in that time passed leisurely for him.
Stiles had noticed this other figure. It was, different, then the other man Scott was on top of currently. This figure, was a girl. She had blonde bouncy hair down to her shoulders and glowing green eyes. She wore odd clothes, a blue shirt and some black slacks with stains on them (he assumed to be blood, but he couldn't be sure). But her face, Stiles will never forget. Smiling so mischievously at him, as if she was excited for what was going to happen.
The blonde-haired-girl, smirked at Stiles and grabbed something on her back and pulled it in front of him. A bow n' arrow. Stiles' eyes widened. The girl then inserted an arrow into the nock and drew back, aiming directly at someone whom he cared about too much, Derek. This girl, this new person, knew exactly what she was doing.
Stiles panicked. He knew a normal arrow wouldn't kill Derek, but he knew but her stance, she was aware of wolfsbane. His eyes went wide.
He knew he had to do something, but what? He didn't know how to use an axe, he only knows how to throw a couple punches, but that was when he isn't injured. But his pack needed him.
Derek, slowly running towards him now. Derek, who promised him to fight. Derek, his lover. Derek, and those words he told him not to long ago, "do what your heart tells you, Sti,"
Stiles, now listening to his heart, following its way and guide, fearful and unable to think properly, did something that some regard as heroic, but others regard as tragic.
Stiles began rushing towards Derek, looking as if he was going to meet him halfway, and Derek's face was flushed with relief. Derek began to slow down and breathed a sigh of relief.
But the girl shifted his target just enough to give the arrow enough time to fly, and she let go.
Stiles, eyes on that arrow, was sprinting now, daring that arrow to a duel. Perhaps time had decided to favor him now, because he was given an extra second of prominence.
He had been only a few centimeters away from his lover, whom had stopped running and was staring at him in confusion.
He reaches out and shoves him to the ground. When Derek grunts, he feels guilty. He stares down at his lover, whom seems to be okay. He could see Derek's puzzled expression as he tried to figure out why Stiles did this. Stiles then remembers what he was doing, what his heart was telling him to do.
Stiles gives his lover a final glance before nodding and glancing upwards.
He turns his gaze away from his favorite person in the world and raises his eyes to the stranger.
The girl had moved only a few feet, she had begun to run away, nodding towards the man underneath Scott.
Soon enough, the girl turns around as he could feel eyes on him, Stiles. The girl smirks at Stiles and laughs. Stiles know perplexed and unsure why she was laughing.
The girl turned the corner and walked out into the bright sun and warm breeze of mother nature, no longer to be seen.
He seems to be going in and out of time. He couldn't hear anything, but he could feel everything. The slight breeze that somehow made its way inside, Derek's foot that had somehow tangled up in his stance.
His eyesight sharp. He takes a quick glance around, everything still moving in slow motion. Scott spitting at the man underneath him in anger, the man laughing even though he's in obvious pain, and Derek, Derek grunting on the floor, trying to regain his breath.
He has a look of determination as he regains his bodies control and shifts to where Derek was once standing.
He looks up at the arrow. The arrow that reminded him of a chickadee, small but loud enough to startle someone or something. The arrow that soared through the air, seemingly cutting it into two halves. The arrow that will enterally haunt everyone.
The arrow, traveling fast, making aerials through the air, had hit its mark.
And the house began to rumble.
---
The silence was deadly. Some say silence is the most powerful scream, others say its a formidable weapon. The Hale-McCall pack had never grasped the purpose of silence, for it was meaningless to them and had never found a place within them. Now, they understand the silence is deadly.
Time had broken once the arrow at hit its mark, resuming itself in the current time, not letting the boy take advantage of its promises no more.
Stiles brings his gaze down at his shoulder. As a weird sensation creeps across his neck and shoulder blade, crimson begins to permeate through the fabric of his shirt. Stiles is standing in the same position where Derek was just standing. The arrow that was supposed to hit his lover is now jutting from behind Stiles' collarbone. He blocked it. He feels proud. Around him, noises erupt. He hears yelling but isn't sure who is yelling, he can't pinpoint whom the voice belongs too. He tries to take deep breaths, but every time his chest rises, his entire body crumbles underneath the pain.
"Stiles!" he finally hears a frightened, agonizing scream. He collapses on the ground, finding it difficult to stand now.
Derek was disoriented. He had no idea why Stiles was rushing to him or shoving him to the ground. However, he now understands. He understands everything.
Scott still baffled by the man he was pinning down. Stiles sprints to Derek, and he silently watches. What are they doing? he wonders. Scott glares at the man beneath him, who laughs. "Y-you believed he wouldn't," the man continues to laugh. Scott, now giving the man a look of confusion. "W-what?" he accidentally stutters out. The man's gaze wondering over to where his brother and brother's lover stood, "you b-believed he wouldn't t-take it." Scott follows his gaze and lets out a tormenting scream.
Derek hears a wail while still recovering from the heavy shove Stiles gave him. He quickly searches the area for the source of the noise. His gaze, however, is drawn to the shadow that stands over him. Stiles. An arrow protruding from his shoulder, just barley underneath is collarbone.
Derek scrambles up and grabs Stiles just as he falls to the ground. Tears pricking in his eyes. Because there was his young lover, whom had wanted nothing more in the world than just a single fight with his pack, on the chilly floor, who had just taken an arrow for him.
Now he wonders why, why, his love would do such a thing. Then he remembers it. The words he had spoken to his lover just hours earlier. Those single words he had just spoken during the moment, not expecting his love to actually listen to him.
"Shit shit, shit Stiles," he says quickly, "why did you listen to me?" he says, choking back a sudden sob emerging up his throat.
Scott, no longer concerned about the man, lets him go and rushes over to Derek and Stiles.
Scott falls to the floor, his knees sliding against the tile. He gazes at the arrow, piercing his brother through, and Stiles, his breath is shallow, hardly there, as it brings back old memories he wishes never existed.
Stiles is unable to see anything. He notices two figures gazing down at him from above, as well as a strong light from above. The light looks so calming to him, so peaceful. He shuts his eyes, feeling the bitter air pound his pale face from all sides. Even though it is summer time, his heart rate hikes. Stiles is overcome by an unsettling feeling, a sense of dread. He tries to take a breath before reopening his eyes. In the distance, he can see the dandelion field where his mother used to take him every spring morning before she passed. He would do anything to see her once more.
He doesn't know how much time has passed before he was lying down in something. Wait, how did he even get here? Did he sleep for a bit? Stiles' eyes wonder and sees two pairs of eyes looking at him through sorrow. One is frantic and ashamed, while the other is stunned and scared. There's a hand on either side of his head.
"Sti, Sti, eyes on me, okay?" he hears a voice similar to Derek's. So that's who he was feeling, Derek had him in his arms, cradled like a baby. He also feels the small sensation of fingers along his hair, trying to keep him at ease, Scott.
"I'm cold," Stiles tells them softly, letting his gaze wander around the ceiling freely. Derek beings Stiles closer into him, hoping his body heat will sustain him. He looks at Scott urgently, a distinct sense of worry sweeping through them both.
"H-how do we get it out?" Derek asks Scott, as if he was a doctor. "I-I don't know, Derek," Scott replies, eyes wandering down to the floor. Derek lets out a small whimper that hurts Stiles more than the arrow. "I-I can try to get it out, I-If it hasn't gone into his artery," he says.
Derek carefully moves Stiles so he is now leaning against Scott. Derek tries, his absolute hardest, but with no medical experience, is unsuccessful. Tears now freely falling down his face rapidly and shakes his head. "I-I can't get it out," he practically howls.
Holding back a sob, Scott nods and brings his gaze onto Stiles again. He puts an arm around Stiles' good side and brushes his fingers through his hair once again, he doesn't want to think about the inevitable.
Stiles feels his eyes getting heavier as he continues to shiver. He can't seem too warm up. His breathing speeds up a little again, and feels himself losing the focus on the world around him.
Derek notices his sudden movements, "I-I think he's losing too much blood, the a-arrow could have shifted," Derek says urgently, and as he reaches to touch the arrow again, Stiles' eyes shoot open, feeling the pain move through him again, a yell escaping his mouth.
"He needs the bite," Derek determinedly said. Stiles began to shake his head, "n-no, 'don't want it," he mumbles. Derek looks like he's on the verge of tears. "Stiles-" He began, only to be cut off by Stiles' coughing.
Stiles, once he had calmed down a bit from the coughing, but the pain still evident inside him, now in a constant state of unconsciousness and consciousness, takes more note of the sounds underneath him.
He gathers all his strength left and croaks out, "G-get out," he feels the warmth essence around him freeze. "W-what?" a voice whispers, Stiles unable to recognize it anymore, Derek. Stiles takes a deep breath, causing him to wince to his wound. "L-leave, h-house, f-fall, g-go," for Stiles was not lying. The house was under attack and is crumbling.
Derek aggressively shakes his head, "I'm not leaving you!" Stiles gives him a small smile, eyes now partly closed.
Stiles was right, and Scott noticed it. He was too preoccupied with his dying brother to notice the distant sirens and screams from outside.
Scott looks at Derek, whom is still refusing to leave Stiles behind. "Y-you h-have too, love you," Stiles tells Derek as strongly as he could muster. "Derek, t-there's explosions," Scott whispers. Derek looks at Scott, face becoming conflicted. Stiles looks at Derek, face determined, "go," the last word Derek will ever hear his young lover say to him.
"I-I'm sorry, l love you Stiles, I'm sorry I'm so sorry, I'll never forgive myself," Derek wails stroking Stiles' cheek. Stiles closes his eyes, for the excruciating pain shooting through him is becoming unbearable. Stiles offers Derek a tiny smile before coming straight faced, his eyes beginning to close. Derek sobs but leans in and kisses Stiles' forehead, a final goodbye. Derek grabs Stiles' shirt as his head rolls back, letting his brunette hair explore the air.
Scott grabs Stiles' cold frail hand in his and gazed onto Stiles face. "Stiles," he chokes out, Stiles doesn't acknowledge him, his head still in the same position, "I-I'm sorry for being a dick to y-you," Scott speaks with his first tear falling down his face. Stiles, still unmoving, puts a tiny smile on his face, takes his last final breath, and his head rolls to the side.
Derek, still holding Stiles, sobs hysterically. Scott himself, one who is usually stone-cold, lets himself cry. The bat, which had been on the floor nearby the entire time, slightly glowing for a split second before dimming.
An explosion. It's getting closer.
Scott, looking towards the sudden explosion, glances at Derek. "D-derek, we gotta go," he says. Derek looks at him and shakes his head, still gripping his lover solemnly, whom was clearly gone. "I-I'm nnot leaving him here!" he says loudly than intended. Scott sighs, "His d-dying wish was for us to get out," Derek looks up to Scott, "let's honor him."
Derek nods, understanding what has to be done. Derek stands up and sets Stiles' body on the tile, surrounded by his blood that had started to slow down, he lets out a sob. He moves a strand of brunette hair out of his face, trying to memorize every distinct feature of his. He finally stands up, and gives one last look at his young lover.
Scott follows Derek's lead and gets up. Scott gazes at Stiles one final time, his unmoving chest, head against the cold tile, he finally gets up and follows Derek, trying to remember all the attributes of his brother, between his brunette hair streaked with soot and his once auburn eyes now a dim grey.
Stiles Stilinski, was dead.
Derek and Scott made it out to safety for police found them, covered in blood, Stiles' blood, and rushed them away from the house. Derek trying to tell them about Stiles' state and he was still inside, but they refused to let him back in, for just then, the house where they just were with Stiles, had caved in.
Derek, trying to run inside to grab Stiles' body but Scott holds him back. He was still hysterical at holding his dying lover.
He was Stiles' very first breath, and his very last.
Scott, comforting his pack-mate with a few more tears of his own escaping his eyes. Scott will never forget Stiles' last dying moment, his last dying wish, for them to get to safety, knowing he wasn't going to make it.
Now everything was gone. The house, their hope, and Stiles.
We all live and then we all die, and there’s nothing we can do about it. It's just how the world works.