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That laughter. Fuck, that laughter.
Derek’s been running, circling, twisting, trying to out-run that insane giggle for an hour, but it’s hopeless. Every time he hears it, his heart burns a little more, and he can feel the edges starting to curl under. Derek had lost his family, his pack, and his innocence, but nothing matched the pain of hearing that sound. It was snaking through the narrow alleys always in his ear. This was only supposed to be reconnaissance, but he should’ve known. Derek had never been able to outsmart this boy. He shuddered and remembered again that he made that laughter. God, he ruined the beautiful boy this creature had once been.
He felt himself losing speed. Derek was strong, but even wolves tired. He couldn’t lead it to their hideout. He owed it to Scott, the final member of his pack to survive. The last time they were found, this boy had deliberately and carefully killed the others. He had made Derek watch when he killed Isaac. Isaac, who only ever wanted love and had always held a soft spot in Derek’s heart. The boy had grinned and killed him so very slowly. He'd let the two of them go with a smile. He had told them to run. Run fast so he could chase.
Derek felt the loss threaten to overcome him again as it already had just once. When the change first happened, he had let despair take him. He had withdrawn completely into his own world not sleeping, eating, or talking. That week ended up being vital. If the pack had attacked during then, the laugher would’ve been vulnerable, and they might’ve been able to end this Hell. Derek had been weak, but he learned to never be again. He wouldn’t stop until he made sure that sound would never again echo through these cold, dark alleys.
Derek sees an open docking station and ducks in. He doesn’t want to fight in here, but it’s better than out in the open. He can’t risk anyone seeing them and calling the cops. The Sheriff was still alive, and he needed to keep it that way. It was his only solace on the nights he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe for thoughts of the boy.
He let himself breathe slowly and carefully. He feels his back tightening in expectation and his body ready for any attack. This will be hard. He will have to destroy the boy that once held him as if he were fragile and that he had trusted to love him forever. Theirs was a slow built trust, and, here, he would finally let that trust break forever, possibly breaking Derek too. He knows deep inside that killing the child with the freckled face will rip the last humanity left from him.
Derek hears a dragging step, then a chuckle from right behind him. He’s prepared. He can do this. This isn’t the boy he loved. That boy was dead, and this was an imposter.
“Mmm, you never were one for running, were you? You stoic, beast, you.” His voice isn’t how Derek remembers it. Of course not, it didn’t used to be colored with madness with a giggle threatening to escape on every word. He doesn’t turn to face him; he’ll know when the boy plans to attack.
Another deliberate, dragging step…wait. No, the steps weren’t making that noise. The boy was carrying something, lugging it behind him.
“Oh, I can tell you’ve realized. I’ve brought you a present. I do love you so after all. It seemed only fair. You gave me such a nice one for my birthday. I still wear it around my neck, see?”
Derek turned. He forced himself to not look at the boy’s face. He knew what he’d find there, eyes burned out and devoid of feeling with a smile to haunt his dreams. Derek did look at where his long finger pointed towards a chain. On the chain, Derek knew, hung a simple silver talisman forged by Deaton. It was designed to protect, support, and enhance anyone who wore it. Derek had agonized for weeks over what to give, and had handed him the box, with his eyes toward the ground and whispered “I love you” in a broken, shaking voice. The box had been knocked out of his hands and reclaimed hours later after Derek's love had been enthusiastically returned. Now, this bastard had painted that night over with grief and blood.
He tore his eyes away, landing on his “present”. It was wrapped in a bag, and the shape was unfamiliar, small and round. A large weight drops into his stomach, and, suddenly, he knows. Derek knows exactly what he’ll find in there, and he feels his breath come out harsher. The boy smiles and takes a shifting step forward, before throwing the bag towards Derek. The boy doesn’t move like a human anymore, Derek noted, almost absently. This parasite had too much grace where his boy used to have none.
“Open it, love.”
Derek still didn’t look at the boy, instead bending towards the bag. He could smell blood, old and stale. He reached for the latch and heard the boy jump up and down a little, waving his hands as if to usher him on, “Open it! Open it!”
Derek unzipped it hesitantly, and the smell hit him fully. It wasn’t just blood, it was brains. Derek heaved. Oh God, Scott. He wasn’t even out of high school. He was a good kid. God, he didn’t deserve this.
Derek threw his head up and forced himself to look at the boy that did this. Look at the manic grin and the dancing eyes. Look at the boy he once loved and see something that wasn’t even human in its shape.
“Stiles. Stiles. What even are you?” Derek choked out. It was times like this, he felt everything anew. The loss of his love, of his joy, and of his pack all hurting him again. Each remembered pain, hitting him squarely in the lungs. He was powerless to resist the tear that drifts from his face and doesn’t watch to see it land on Scott’s remains. When this was all over, it will kill him, this emptiness. He can’t let it now, not yet.
Stiles bounced again lightly with his answer, reaching forward to trail a hand down Derek’s face. “I’m your end, pup. I won't murder you yet, but I’ll be your end. I’ll kill every happiness and every smile before it has a chance to even reach your face. Your pain will feed me.” Stiles face stretched into a gruesome smile, as he leaned close to Derek, a giggle erupting like it was dragged from him, “Your pain will be MY happiness. That’s all you ever said you wanted anyway, right? My happiness.”
Derek grimaced and leapt at Stiles. He crashed into him and, with a savage delight, felt bones give way. He roared his dominance as he tackled Stiles to the ground. His growl quickly turned into a yelp though, as he was thrown through the air and into a wall. Derek shook his head to regain some clarity and watched with horrified fascination as Stiles stood. He watched bones pop back into place with sickening crunches. Stiles just grinned, his smile widening to split his face longer than any human’s should.
“Run, pup, because if I catch you, I’ll tire of you. I’m a slave to my own capriciousness, and I will kill you as I have your pack. I don't want that. I want you to build up more happiness for me to destroy first. I don’t know if that’s even possible though,” here Stiles sighed, “You’re eyes are turning dead,” before letting out one more chilling laugh.
Derek turned and ran. He didn’t run because he feared death or this monster. No, Derek would welcome death with open arms when it came for him. Derek ran, because he had to live to fight again. He had to grow strong enough to kill this creature and end this.
~
Stiles screamed as he watched Derek run, and tries to reach out and call to him. Hold him close again. He doesn’t know why he bothers. Whatever he does, he can never look away. It won’t let him even shut his eyes. He was forced to watch when he killed the others. He’d cried and yelled as he stabbed Lydia over and over. She had called his name at the very end, and he still hears it like an echo in quiet moments. Stiles had begged, shouted, thrashed, and shrieked, but nothing had prevented his body from whistling as it cut off Scott’s head. This thing controlled him now, but it made sure he watched. It laughed as he screamed himself hoarse.
“Your reactions are just A-dorable.” He heard a whisper near his consciousness, “The way you make so much fuss over one little life. You’re just too much fun. You’re the main reason I don’t want to let Derek go. The noise you make when he’s utterly destroyed.” It sighed, “It’ll be beautiful. You used to make such a loud fuss over everything. You’re waning too though. It takes so much to get a rise out of you. After I’m finished with Derek, I doubt you’ll have any fight left in you. Pity. You were quite entertaining while you lasted.”
Stiles was lost. His body was taken, and he felt his mind slipping slowly away too. He was going mad locked up, forced to be a demon’s plaything. He hurt. He just hurt so fucking much. He wanted it- needed it to end. Soon, he wouldn’t remain. He couldn't even be sure he existed now. Can you truly exist when you have no free will? When you forget what was reality and what was a hallucination? He felt his sanity fading like the old photo of his mother that he kept by his bed, but this didn’t scare Stiles, it excited him. He was willing himself to an early madness as his last hope for escape.
The monster spoke once more, “Hmmm, maybe we should go visit dear old dad? What do you think Stiles? Will you scream for me then?”