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Who knew his death would take so long. After running with the pack for two years, Stiles has seen a lot of death. A quick slash against the throat was the usual method so it only stands to reason that Stiles' death would take forever. He always has to be an outsider.
Frankly, Stiles is over this whole dying thing. He's accepted it and moved passed it. He really just wants his super hot, werewolf boyfriend to kiss him. He'd want more but his lower half is completely marble now.
Fucking witches and their damn magic. Seriously, fuck magic. That's cheating. And what's worse is there are no rules with magic. If a werewolf bites you, you become a werewolf. Check. A mermaid sings to you, she's probably going to drown you. Check, check. But with magic, only the spell caster knows what's going to happen. And sometimes even the spell caster fucks up and shit like this happens.
The witch who strolled into Beacon Hills like it was a second home probably thought she had it all figured it out. Cast a protection spell, kill some humans, leave. Well jokes on you bitch. You cast a death curse instead of true protection spell. Amateur.
After Derek caught up to her in the park, he ripped her heart out. It wasn't until Stiles arrived that the freaky shit started happening. Her body rose up, organs spilling out of the gaping hole in her torso. Then she started cracking like the crazy person she was, "you fools. Whatever damage you do to me will only backfire."
Everyone grabbed their chest, fearful of finding blood. Only her magic must have had an English degree cause it made her threat symbolic. Because when Stiles looked down his sneakers were white and his feet were cold. His heart rate must have spiked because both Scott and Derek turned and yelled "Stiles!"
He was trying to calm them down, he has a blanket in the car and white is in this year, when Deaton freaked and started spewing something about death curses and this witch in Ohio who accidentally killed his son because the kid was tricked into poisoning the dad or something. Stiles couldn't really keep up with how fast Deaton was talking. Which was scary as fuck because Stiles knew talking fast, and Deaton was setting some kind of world record.
Allison, who hadn't moved since the dead body collapsed to the ground again, slapped Deaton hard enough to temporarily deafen the wolves. She grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and in her best "this is what is happening" voice explained everything.
"She had a death curse," Allison starts. "That means that whoever kills her is going to be cursed, usually with death themselves. And even though Derek is the one who killed her, it looks like the curse hit you."
"So she made my shoes white and my feet cold, pretty shitty curse if you ask me," Stile responses without thinking.
"Stiles look down again." Her voice emotionless and blank.
And holy fuck! Why are the lower half of his jeans white and why can't he move his legs. His face must of shown his panic because Allison is hugging him tightly and shushing him gently.
"Stiles," and he can hear the tears finally breaking through her defenses. "She's turning you into a statue."
Everything went so fast after that. Derek howling and throwing Allison to the ground screaming that he was going to bite Stiles. The gift would stop the curse. Deaton yelling that it could infect Derek and he couldn't risk it. It would leave the pack defenseless. Scott pushing Derek out of the way, saying he'd bite Stiles, that the pack didn't need him. The rest of the pack showing up, not knowing what was happening but trying to keep Scott and Derek away from Stiles. Finally Deaton using some kind of spell thingy to knock all the wolves out (hey what do you know, magic is useful!).
All while Stiles thinks fuck. I haven't had sex in three days. This witch is being a cockblock even in death.
Fast forward two hours and Stiles is laying on his side on the ground stroking Derek's face as his waist turns to stone. A couple feet away, Allison is sitting next to a still sleeping Scott while Deaton and Lydia move the pack into to the animal shelter's ambulance. Apparently this spell isn't going to wear off until morning.
"Hey. Hey Allison," Stiles says as he lifts up his shirt. She looks confused and sad. "In a couple of minutes I'm gonna have rock-hard abs, but my boyfriend is super possessive so keep your hands to yourself. I know it'll be hard for you, what with my raw animal magnetism-"
She's laughing now. Good. No more tears. Stiles couldn't stand the sight of her crying anymore. Her face was getting blotchy and gross. And yes, he loves Derek, but Stiles still likes looking at pretty girls. Thats the reason he wants her to stop crying and nothing else.
"That's the last of them," Lydia says. They had planned on moving Scott but Stiles had gone primadonna on their asses demanding the wolf stayed within eyesight. He figured since he was dying he could be a little rude. No one even thought to suggest moving Derek.
"Sti..." Lydia starts but breaks off to take staggered breaths. "Do you need anything?" She asks no one in particular but it's clear she means Stiles.
"Nah, I'm good. But could you maybe move Derek again. My hands are gone." He says while looking down. One hand forever frozen with his fingers together, the other with them splayed out. "Damn. I should have done a peace sign. No wait! Spock hands. That would have been awesome!"
No one laughs this time.
Deaton comes over and pushes Derek's body so his forehead is touching Stiles' cheek. And that's nice.
It takes another thirty minutes for the coldness to creep up to his shoulders and chest. Breathing gets hard and painful. You'd think that having you lungs turned to marble would negate the need to breath but, again, magic doesn't follow rules.
The almost full moon is behind the trees on the edge of clearing now. Stiles can still see everyone though. The night is clear and the stars are bright. Perfect for star-gazing with boyfriends. It feels like he's on another couples date. Only there's no laughter and warm fingers pressing into his hip. Stiles can feel tears threatening to escape but he pushes them down. He can't cry. Not now. Now he has to be strong.
Lydia is passed out next to Deaton who hasn't spoken in forever. He might be asleep. Allison is quiet too but Stiles knows she's awake. She wouldn't make him do this alone.
"Allison, make sure someone takes care of my dad."
She looks over, opens her mouth but doesn't respond. Well that's just rude. He starts to call her out on it when his tongue hits a cold wall.
Tears are streaming down Allison's face now but she's keeping eye contact as best as possible. Stiles realizes that he can no longer smell Derek's woodsy scent and he knows that this is the moment. He's going to be stuck here for the rest of time.
And that's when he finally understands the curse. He is going to be stuck here forever. A constant remind to Derek of everything he lost tonight. Stiles want to scream. Derek will come here every night to howl. He won't grieve. He won't love again. He'll never smile. Stiles can't let that happen. He has to save Derek from that future.
Allison has rivers pouring out of her now. Allison! Stiles thinks. Allison will do this.
Stiles makes eye contact again and wills his eyes to tell her everything. Eyes are suppose to be windows to the soul and he needs her to see everything. He needs her to understand. His eyes beg Allison to destroy his statue. To save his family like he tried for her.
Stiles can't tell if she gets the message in time but he would swear her eyes widen in understanding and that she nods right as everything turns white.