Strangers In The Night
If love was the stars, then she was the moon, Scott thought. The next few minutes he spent trying to make sense of that thought. He couldn’t. Some stars seen at the night sky were most likely already diminished, with only their light remaining. Light might be fast, but not even it could outrun death, it seemed. So why would he associate the stars with love? Because love was dead for him, but its light still kept the darkness away?
That sounded poetic! He should definitely hold on to that thought. One day, he might woo somebody with it.
Then why was she the moon? Because she made him crazy, electricity buzzing under his skin? Or because she kept showing him her dark side?
The moon should be his enemy, but he felt drawn to it nonetheless.
But Derek called her Mother Moon. He shuddered. In that context, his association made him want to barf.
“I’m so late, oh my god,” she said, out of breath. Her cheeks were rosy from the chill, her hair in slight disarray. She must have been running. Scott wanted to smile.
“I’m so sorry, Scott. I didn’t forget, I promise!”
She gingerly sat down next to him on the bench. It was such a clear night, not even one cloud blocking the sky above.
"It's fine," he said.
She clasped her gloved hands together, wringing them as if she was holding a wet towel.
"No, it's not," she said. "But thanks."
"Of course."
They sat together in silence for a while and Scott wondered whether this could even be considered a date. The atmosphere was as tense as a money transfer in a kidnapping case. Were they supposed to exchange sympathies now?
"It's a beautiful night," Allison said, rather breathless as if she was stunned by the sight. "Cold, but so very beautiful."
Scott looked at her like she had missed something very important.
"Reminds me of someone, actually," is what he said then.
Her shoulders hunched as if he had unloaded the weight of the world on them. She knew, though, that it was only the weight of her own mistakes and regrets. It was her travel case; the only thing she took with her wherever she went.
"You know, the night can be clouded. For the moon, it's not as easy to break through the clouds as it is for the sun. She's not burning bright, her light is cold and harsh. She's not needed, nor is she wanted. She's just there, surrounded by darkness."
Scott looked up at the night sky, scrunching up his face.
"Can we stop talking in analogies? I'm getting confused."
A laugh rattled next to him. She seemed surprised that she could find anything funny at the moment.
"I wish I was better at this," she admitted.
Apologies were not something Argent women were good at. They tended to resolve arguments with brute force.
"I wish I was, too," Scott said.
There was some rustling nearby. The gravel murmured under someone's footsteps and the grass whispered along in the soft wind in a conversation only nature could understand.
"I know that your opinion of me has changed, made a complete 180-degree turn. From love to hate. I guess, as important as I was to you, once, you'll always choose your principles over me. And I want you to know that I think that's very admirable. You are very admirable, Scott."
Somewhere, a few hundred feet away, a couple was arguing. Their voices got louder despite them moving further away from the park bench Scott and Allison were sitting on, her voice hissing like a bottle before exploding and his grumbling like a storm coming closer. It was somehow soothing to know that someone else's love life was as flawed as his own was.
"I thought you were better than this," he said, realizing himself right now that he was responsible for that misconception and only he.
Allison flinched but she still held her head up high and met his gaze straight on. Her mouth was drawn down in a mournful grimace.
"All I wanted was to belong. To be with the right people for once. I think I wanted a leader whose judgement I could trust."
"And that was Derek," Scott finished for her.
"Yeah."
"But he never ordered you to do anything. That was all you, Ally."
It pained her that the nickname he had used to say in such fond tones once had turned slightly sour on his tongue now.
"I know. And I was wrong."
Before he got the chance to tell her how much of an understatement her assessment of her mistake was, something else caught his attention. The voices of the other people had faded away, now too far for him to make them out. He hadn't noticed that it was not silence that had followed. The bushes were rustling, too loudly for it to be blamed on the wind.
"But I...," She seemed to grasp for words. Her hand sneaked into his, holding on tightly. "I miss you, Scott. I miss us, together."
As if her words had triggered the response, a creature broke out of the shrubs. Bloodthirsty, red eyes were fixed on the both of them. Two massive claws were scraping the ground, like a bull ready to attack. It looked like an ugly mixture between a bear, a bull and an eagle. The dark beak was reflecting the moonlight as it opened to reveal teeth, small and sharp as knives. Its torso was that of a giant bull, with massive, powerful hind legs which indicated that it was a fast runner. Something was darkening its feathers which were a dark grey. Scott first thought that the creature was spitting as the first drop hit him but the smell told of something completely different.
Allison had sprung up from the bench, taking in a defensive stance, just as the creature attacked. In less than two moves it was standing close to them, not even making one sound. Allison managed to duck a massive paw swiping her way just in time for it to miss her. She rolled to the side and immediately sprung to her feet again. Wasting not another minute, she kicked the gravel into the monster's face, which momentarily aggravated it enough for her to grab the small dagger she had kept hidden inside her left boot. Meanwhile, Scott had taken in his beta-form and took a swig at the beast with his claws out. The creature did not even make a sound. It was eerily silent. Instead of focusing its attention on Scott now, as was planned, the creature attacked Allison instead. A heavy paw she didn't manage to duck hit her side, forcing her to the ground. She swung the dagger and stuck it in the paw with as much force as she could. Scott had used its ignorance of him as a chance to jump onto its back, injuring the fur-coated bat-like protruding ears. The way they shifted with every sound its attacker made, Scott figured they played a big role concerning the creature's orientation. In desperation, the creature pawed at its ears, losing balance and stumbling around. Scott was almost thrown off if it weren't for his tight grip around the monster's neck. Allison was about to get up and finish it off as she felt a tiny prick on her ankle. The creature had taken to walking in circles in an attempt to throw Scott off, its tail flailing around wildly. Only now did she register the thin but long spike at the end of the tail. The realisation was late, the pain had taken over sooner. She collapsed to the ground as she was consumed by fire and flames.
***
Peter kept looking at Stiles as if he was a riddle wrapped in an enigma. Everybody else seemed to be either nervous or deadly serious. Peter, though, appeared like it was Christmas again. That’s not to say that he wasn’t also worried. He probably was.
“You came with no shoes, yet your feet weren’t dirty or scratched. Curious.”
Isaac scratched the back of his head in thought.
“Jon told me,” Peter continued, “that you fell asleep on the couch. He woke you up and sent you upstairs. He heard you close the door to your room, so he assumed you had gone to bed. A few minutes later, Isaac and Erica found you in our bathroom. Really curious.”
“Curious,” Erica repeated incredulously. “More like completely freaky.”
"That's beside the point now," Peter brushed her off. "I want to know the mechanics behind it. This is not normal sleep-walking we are talking about."
The very subject of their talk, however, hadn't listened to a word being said. Everything was feeling like a dream to Stiles. From the moment he had found himself in the bathroom of the Hale House, staring at his own reflection in the mirror, he had felt himself drifting from reality. He was floating on a cloud of surreality. He knew he had been at his own house before he had fallen asleep. If only he weren't so tired all the time! He had never intended to fall asleep but a dream had washed over him like a wave, dragging him out into the endless ocean of unconsciousness. He was floating aimlessly until he wasn't anymore. He had just assumed that the dream had ended then. Every moment in the cabin with the faceless man was ingrained in his memory. Normally, dreams were like a sandcastle. You spend hours building it, with adventures playing out in your head. But then the wave of consciousness came and bit by bit it destroyed the sandcastle. As hard as you try to hold on, most of it will be washed away. Sometimes you were lucky to remember its structure but no actual details. How many windows have you built? How many battles have been fought and won for it?
His dream about the man was not like a sandcastle, however. It was as solid as the very house he was being in right now.
Since he had turned up at the Hale House, he couldn't shake off the chill from that realisation. He was shaken to his core. Something desperate kept vibrating in his chest, not allowing him to close his eyes.
That was probably why reality was as hard to grasp as a slick spoon. The very spoon he was using to eat his cereal.
"What do we tell Derek when he gets back?" Isaac asked, biting on his nails.
Peter scoffed. "Oh, so you volunteer? That is so forward of you, Isaac, I am truly amazed at your bravery. I'm sure you'll find the right words to describe exactly what happened. I tend to exaggerate, that's the problem. I myself am never satisfied with a story unless someone has died in it, you see?"
Just at that moment, gravity did its part and Stiles' head dropped into his cereal bowl with a dull splash. The teenage boy shot up from his seat like a frightened animal and promptly fell to the floor. Peter, Erica and Isaac looked at him, startled, as he groaned in pain. Slightly disoriented, Stiles sat up, milk dripping down his face. His brain felt like a marble that was rolling around in his head.
"Let's first do something about this," Erica gestured towards their fallen project.
Isaac and Erica hoisted him up by his arms and carried him over to the sofa. She looked him up and down, took in his sunken cheeks, the dark shadows under his eyes, his too pale skin. How could one night do so much damage?
It was almost like he had never woken up.
"Sunglasses?" Isaac suggested.
Erica rolled her eyes. "Let's not bust out the 'Weekend at Bernie's'-move just yet."
"Then what's your plan, Little Miss Sunshine?"
Before she had the chance to answer, someone else took the opportunity to say something.
"Open the door."
Isaac's eyebrows shot up so high, for a moment it looked like they were about to flee his face.
"What now? You're mumbling nonsense." He patted Stiles' shoulder awkwardly, thinking that his state must be worse than they had previously thought.
"I'm not," Stiles rubbed his face, forcing his eyes to keep open. "Please, open the door."
Isaac shrugged and went slowly over to the front door. Taking one last glance at Stiles, he opened it, not sure what to expect. His eyes widened comically.
"There's nothing ther-"
Something small raced past his legs in a red blur as he was about to finish that sentence. A sigh of relief could be heard from the couch.
"How did you know he was out there?" Isaac looked at their token human and his token fox, puzzled.
"We have a strong connection."
Burly nuzzled his snout against his cheek, trying to get as much bodily contact as possible. Stiles felt some energy return back to his body. Interesting. He considered that theory and decided to test it out later.
After their initial "I'm glad you're still alive"- celebration, Burly ran outside again and came back a few seconds later with the cane in his mouth. He laid it down in front of Stiles' feet. Erica whistled.
"That's one weird way to play fetch," she commented.
The door remained open. Isaac was about to close it when he suddenly stilled, a concentrated look on his face. He squinted his eyes and motioned for the others to be quiet. Peter walked up to him, looking into the dark of the forest as if he expected someone or something to appear.
Erica was able to realize what was going on immediately after. Her hearing skills were not as refined as Isaac's were, therefore, she was only able to make them out shortly before they were in sight.
Isaac cursed under his breath and held the door open wide so that their new guests were able to pass through. Stiles wanted to get up and see for himself what was going on but seeing as his legs were not able to hold his weight yet, he had to wait until the guests had entered the house.
The first to be heard and to be seen was Scott who was asking frantic questions. He was carrying an unconscious Allison in his arms while some men who seemed familiar followed him in.
"We were attacked," he announced to the others. He didn't even lift his eyes to greet them, they were fixed on Allison as if he feared he would miss a change of her condition that could prove to be fatal.
Noshiko Yukimura was the last to enter the house. She looked one last time at the forest before she closed the door.
"Will she be okay? What's wrong with her?" asked Isaac.
Noshiko took a moment to consider the teenager on the couch before she answered.
"She's been stung by a demon. For now, the infection won't kill her. But as the demon grows in power, so does his poison. Then there's no more hope for her."
Scott didn't manage to hold back the howl of agony that had nestled in his chest ever since the attack.
"He hasn't been powerful enough to raise demons - even low-level ones. Something must've changed," Noshiko declared, pointedly looking at Stiles.
Blanching, Stiles resisted the urge to look at his scars. Only one name was ghosting through his head.
Tadeusz
As a spark ignites a fire, the name ignited the words of his mother in his mind.
Whenever he had felt down as a kid, his mother had told him about the significance of his names. He had forgotten about them, over time, which now seemed to be unnatural. Only since he had found out about his spark had he been able to retrieve those memories.
Tadeusz had been his mother's younger brother. He had been born prematurely and sickly his whole short life. Even though his sickly disposition, he had always been a spirited child, always talking and playing pranks. Claudia had been very inspired by his outlook on life, which had caused her to try to save him, once it had become apparent that he would not live to the age of thirteen. Stiles had never found out what exactly had happened as she had always censored that part for him but he knew that Tadeusz had died a few days after his thirteenth birthday.
Had he been the kid that Stiles had mistaken for Ray in his dreams? But how did the faceless man come into this? How had he figured it out?
Looking down at his hands, Stiles discovered to his surprise and relief that no more scars had turned black. Two of them had become sickly dark though.
What did that mean?
He continued to stare at his hands, waiting for a change. It appeared as though the two already dark scar lines become slowly darker and darker. Last time, he had been drained quickly and painfully, like someone ripping a band-aid off. Now, though, the band-aid was removed slowly, almost cautiously.
Why did the man suddenly care?