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31_days2013-12-12 11:44 pm
saraste-impi.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-12-12 11:44 pm
[December 12th] [Teen Wolf] Not Lethal But
Title: Not Lethal But
Day/Prompt: 12.A side parade, with a single balloon
Series: Teen Wolf
Character: Sheriff Stilinski, Derek
Rating: PG-13
Derek is frantic.
He feels so dislodged that it's an actual physical ache. Stiles is missing. He disappeared from the hospital during the night. Slipped past Derek somehow while he was keeping guard. Derek would never forgive himself for that lapse. Because something is clearly wrong and he's not in the center of it, Stiles is.
That frightens Derek the most. He calls everyone but no-one's seen Stiles. The pack decided to go to school, after Derek had nagged at them, at least for a few hours in the hopes that Stiles turns up. The sheriff is wrangling his staff for a thorough search he hears from Scott, which Derek observes from the sidelines because with that, he can't interfere, nor would. The sheriff has arrested him before, after all. Even if Derek brought Stiles to the hospital, he can't bring himself to hope that the sheriff isn't suspicious of him, despite their tenuous cordiality.
The events, how Stiles has been targeted leave a bitter taste in Derek's mouth.
Even more so when his pack starts to update on him about seeing Stiles. They tell him he hadn't seemed to be himself, that he had been behaving out of character. Way out of character. Like something is controlling Stiles. But he had seemed ok to the outside, even when Derek's beta's told him that they'd caught a whiff of... something else they can't wrap their noses around.
It's all coming to a head as Derek tracks Stiles scent to his house. And it is mixed with sulfur, of all things. Derek decides that it cannot be good, not good at all.
He crashes in through the front door, not thinking at all, the sickly sweet scent of blood assaulting his senses the moment he crosses the threshold. And he knows that scent, knows that blood and doesn't think at all but runs into the kitchen with werewolf speed not checking the impulse. Because it isn't Stiles' blood, which he realizes as soon as he enters the kitchen.
It's good that the sheriff knows, otherwise Derek crashing into his kitchen wolfed out would have given him a heart-attack on top of the injuries he already has.
Derek drops to the floor beside the sheriff, sees the wound and curses. It's not lethal... yet, but he thinks that there is too much blood anyway, too much blood for a human to loose. And he doesn't like the way the sheriff's eyes look, unfocused, dazed. Losing focus. His hand immediately lands on the sheriffs arm and starts to leech out the pain.
“Stiles...” the sheriff rasps out, blood gurgling in his throat as Derek's flipping out his cell to call for an ambulance.
Derek turns to look at him, frowning, the call forgotten, his finger slack on the call button.
“He was here?” He asks the sheriff, trying to bite back the growl, he'd shifted back when he'd seen the sheriff wounded and lying on the floor, but his control is snapping again now. He wills himself to calm, to not have his claws come out where his hand is on the sheriff's arm.
“It was and wasn't Stiles. His eyes were... they were black. All black.” The sheriff takes time to get the words out but not because he doesn't seem to want to not say them, but because he's having trouble to breathe.
And that makes Derek hit call and tell the paramedics to hurry. As much as he wants to leave right after the call, Derek also knows he can't leave Stiles' father like this. Not before the paramedics come. Despite how much he wants to run and find Stiles.
“Who did this?” He asks as he tries to help the sheriff into a more comfortable position, pressing a towel to the wound, to stem the sluggish blood flow. He can't process the information. All black eyes? Stiles and not Stiles? It doesn't make any sense.
The sheriff grasps at his arm with his bloodied fingers. And the look on his face is horrified as Derek looks down at him.
“Who did this?” Derek asks again. His mind is counting the minutes, thinking how fucking long the ambulance will take. He doesn't like the way the sheriff's breath gurgles. The blood scent assaults his nostrils, smelling like Stiles but not quite and yet... there it is. Stiles' blood. His eyes zero in on the knife, and ordinary cutting knife, with blood on the blade lying discarded on the linoleum a few feet away.
The sheriff's face drops before the words come out of his mouth. Words Derek never wanted to hear, never expected. “It was... but it wasn't him. It was not my son. It wasn't Stiles.”
Even when he doesn't want to ask, Derek needs to clarify things. “Stiles did this?”
“It wasn't my son! It was his body, maybe, but it wasn't him!” And then, after having yelled the words out the sheriff gasps, coughs and spits out blood.
And Derek. Derek feels cold. There's a vice around his heart, squeezing, squeezing so hard that he feels like he's choking with it. He has no idea what the hell has happened to Stiles. But he has to believe that what the sheriff says is true. Stiles would never try and kill his own father. Never. Not when he's in his right mind. Not even then, Derek thinks, Stiles would have to be hallucinating and thinking that his dad was someone else to be able to hurt him.
The sheriff is gripping at him again, his heart beating erratic in Derek's ears, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You have to find him. Stiles. He's hurt.”
“What did he do?” Derek asks, dreading the answer. His ears finally pick up the sirens in the distance. “The ambulance will be here soon,” he tells the sheriff to reassure... he doesn't actually know which of them.
The thought of something controlling Stiles is the only thing keeping Derek from shifting, from throwing his head back and howling. Once the sheriff is being taken care of, Derek will call the pack, even when it's still the middle of the school day and track down Stiles.
“He... it was Stiles' voice but, it wasn't Stiles using it, his body. It made Stiles stab himself in the heart.”
Those words make Derek's world fall apart.
Day/Prompt: 12.A side parade, with a single balloon
Series: Teen Wolf
Character: Sheriff Stilinski, Derek
Rating: PG-13
Derek is frantic.
He feels so dislodged that it's an actual physical ache. Stiles is missing. He disappeared from the hospital during the night. Slipped past Derek somehow while he was keeping guard. Derek would never forgive himself for that lapse. Because something is clearly wrong and he's not in the center of it, Stiles is.
That frightens Derek the most. He calls everyone but no-one's seen Stiles. The pack decided to go to school, after Derek had nagged at them, at least for a few hours in the hopes that Stiles turns up. The sheriff is wrangling his staff for a thorough search he hears from Scott, which Derek observes from the sidelines because with that, he can't interfere, nor would. The sheriff has arrested him before, after all. Even if Derek brought Stiles to the hospital, he can't bring himself to hope that the sheriff isn't suspicious of him, despite their tenuous cordiality.
The events, how Stiles has been targeted leave a bitter taste in Derek's mouth.
Even more so when his pack starts to update on him about seeing Stiles. They tell him he hadn't seemed to be himself, that he had been behaving out of character. Way out of character. Like something is controlling Stiles. But he had seemed ok to the outside, even when Derek's beta's told him that they'd caught a whiff of... something else they can't wrap their noses around.
It's all coming to a head as Derek tracks Stiles scent to his house. And it is mixed with sulfur, of all things. Derek decides that it cannot be good, not good at all.
He crashes in through the front door, not thinking at all, the sickly sweet scent of blood assaulting his senses the moment he crosses the threshold. And he knows that scent, knows that blood and doesn't think at all but runs into the kitchen with werewolf speed not checking the impulse. Because it isn't Stiles' blood, which he realizes as soon as he enters the kitchen.
It's good that the sheriff knows, otherwise Derek crashing into his kitchen wolfed out would have given him a heart-attack on top of the injuries he already has.
Derek drops to the floor beside the sheriff, sees the wound and curses. It's not lethal... yet, but he thinks that there is too much blood anyway, too much blood for a human to loose. And he doesn't like the way the sheriff's eyes look, unfocused, dazed. Losing focus. His hand immediately lands on the sheriffs arm and starts to leech out the pain.
“Stiles...” the sheriff rasps out, blood gurgling in his throat as Derek's flipping out his cell to call for an ambulance.
Derek turns to look at him, frowning, the call forgotten, his finger slack on the call button.
“He was here?” He asks the sheriff, trying to bite back the growl, he'd shifted back when he'd seen the sheriff wounded and lying on the floor, but his control is snapping again now. He wills himself to calm, to not have his claws come out where his hand is on the sheriff's arm.
“It was and wasn't Stiles. His eyes were... they were black. All black.” The sheriff takes time to get the words out but not because he doesn't seem to want to not say them, but because he's having trouble to breathe.
And that makes Derek hit call and tell the paramedics to hurry. As much as he wants to leave right after the call, Derek also knows he can't leave Stiles' father like this. Not before the paramedics come. Despite how much he wants to run and find Stiles.
“Who did this?” He asks as he tries to help the sheriff into a more comfortable position, pressing a towel to the wound, to stem the sluggish blood flow. He can't process the information. All black eyes? Stiles and not Stiles? It doesn't make any sense.
The sheriff grasps at his arm with his bloodied fingers. And the look on his face is horrified as Derek looks down at him.
“Who did this?” Derek asks again. His mind is counting the minutes, thinking how fucking long the ambulance will take. He doesn't like the way the sheriff's breath gurgles. The blood scent assaults his nostrils, smelling like Stiles but not quite and yet... there it is. Stiles' blood. His eyes zero in on the knife, and ordinary cutting knife, with blood on the blade lying discarded on the linoleum a few feet away.
The sheriff's face drops before the words come out of his mouth. Words Derek never wanted to hear, never expected. “It was... but it wasn't him. It was not my son. It wasn't Stiles.”
Even when he doesn't want to ask, Derek needs to clarify things. “Stiles did this?”
“It wasn't my son! It was his body, maybe, but it wasn't him!” And then, after having yelled the words out the sheriff gasps, coughs and spits out blood.
And Derek. Derek feels cold. There's a vice around his heart, squeezing, squeezing so hard that he feels like he's choking with it. He has no idea what the hell has happened to Stiles. But he has to believe that what the sheriff says is true. Stiles would never try and kill his own father. Never. Not when he's in his right mind. Not even then, Derek thinks, Stiles would have to be hallucinating and thinking that his dad was someone else to be able to hurt him.
The sheriff is gripping at him again, his heart beating erratic in Derek's ears, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You have to find him. Stiles. He's hurt.”
“What did he do?” Derek asks, dreading the answer. His ears finally pick up the sirens in the distance. “The ambulance will be here soon,” he tells the sheriff to reassure... he doesn't actually know which of them.
The thought of something controlling Stiles is the only thing keeping Derek from shifting, from throwing his head back and howling. Once the sheriff is being taken care of, Derek will call the pack, even when it's still the middle of the school day and track down Stiles.
“He... it was Stiles' voice but, it wasn't Stiles using it, his body. It made Stiles stab himself in the heart.”
Those words make Derek's world fall apart.