Stiles
Stiles opened the door to room 213, and he and Scott entered, dropping their bags by the door. Stiles immediately fell onto the bed closest to the window, his back hitting the mattress with a dull thud. Scott followed, collapsing onto the bed next to him with an equally tired groan.
Staring at the cracked ceiling, Stiles couldn't help but say, "Okay, so I have six now."
Scott cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "Six? You have six suspects?"
"Yes," Stiles said, his tone matter of fact. "And trust me, they're all compelling cases."
Scott furrowed his brows deeper, trying to keep up with Stiles's racing thoughts. "And who's the first suspect? Harris?"
"Bingo. Harris." Stiles sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows, feeling the adrenaline rush from his theories. "You said it yourself, remember? Just because someone is gone doesn't mean they're dead. And Harris he was at the center of the Hill Fire and the Kanima murders." He paused for dramatic effect, loving the way the words sounded. "That fits things that happen in groups of three. And you know all about things that happen in groups of three."
Scott stared at him, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "So, if he's alive, that means our chemistry teacher is out there somewhere secretly committing human sacrifices?"
Stiles clenched his jaw, thinking it over. "Yeah... I guess that sounded a lot better in my head."
Scott rolled his eyes and shifted on his bed. "Well, what if it was someone else from school? Remember Matt? We didn't know he was killing people."
Stiles got up, his eyes wide open. "Excuse me? What?" He got to his feet, pacing back and forth in the room like a detective about to solve a case. "Oh yeah, we did!" He paused, and gestured dramatically at Scott. "I thought so since day one, actually."
Scott sat up on his elbows, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you weren't serious."
"I was serious! I was completely serious about him being a psychopathic killer. Really serious. But no one listened to me," Stiles grumbled, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He hated being right about these things. It was always an empty victory.
Scott sighed, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Okay, who are the other five?"
Stiles rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Derek's sister, Cora. No one really knows anything about her or what she's been doing for the past six years. She's not my top suspect, but we have to keep our options open."
Scott nodded deeply. "Okay, and the others?"
Stiles leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The other four are my prime suspects. First, there's your boss."
Scott blinked in surprise, sitting up straighter. "Deaton? My boss? I thought he was helping us with this."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't rule him out. First of all, I don't like everything Obi-Wan he does. It kind of annoys me." He paused, noticing Scott's blank stare. "Jesus, Scott, haven't you watched Star Wars yet?"
Scott groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, if we make it back alive, I'm going to watch the movie."
Stiles shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable." He quickly regained his focus. "Anyway, there's also the fact that Deaton seems to know a lot of what's going on but keeps it to himself most of the time. Until he has to let it out. And .." Stiles froze mid-sentence, a thought hitting him like a bolt of lightning.
Scott's eyes widened in concern. "What? What's wrong?"
Stiles stared straight into Scott's eyes, his expression dead serious. "I feel like he knows something, something big, and he's trying to hide it from us. It's like... a vibration or something. The way he looks at me when he thinks I can't see it."
A cold shiver ran down Scott's spine. He wouldn't admit it, but he was starting to feel the same way about Deaton. Sometimes, he'd catch his boss giving him a strange look, one he tried to ignore. He dismissed it as paranoia, but if Stiles felt the same way, it probably wasn't all in his head. Still, he didn't want to believe that Deaton could be involved in something so sinister. "And the others?"
"Jeremy," Stiles said reluctantly. Although he no longer suspected Jeremy as strongly as he once did, it would be foolish to dismiss him outright. "And Kol. I'm sure it was one of them."
The mention of kol made Stiles' stomach twist. There was something about kol that made Stiles feel uneasy. He was charming, sure, in a dangerous, unpredictable way. But there was a darkness there, a glint in his eyes that suggested he was always three steps ahead, always playing a game that no one else realized he was a part of. Stiles had seen it before in people who were used to getting what they wanted, no matter the cost.
He didn't trust kol even a little bit. He hadn't trusted him since the moment he'd met them. There was something...calculated about him. The way he watched everyone, sizing them up like chess pieces, always with that slight smile on his face, as if he knew something they didn't. It reminded him of Peter in a way that made his skin tingle. He'd seen the way kol looked at him, as if he knew him, and Stiles hated that he felt like he knew him too but couldn't remember it.
The nagging thought of kol being in Beacon Hills was something Stiles couldn't shake.
Scott frowned. "That's five suspects, Stiles."
Stiles hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Lydia," he said in a low voice, as if he didn't want to say it out loud. He moved to sit at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. "She was completely under Peter's control before, and she had no idea what she was doing. She was found by one of the bodies, and she said she had no idea how she got there or why."
Scott's face softened. He understood the weight of naming Lydia as a suspect, especially given everything she'd been through. But Stiles wasn't wrong. Lydia's connection to the supernatural was complicated at best, and she was still trying to figure out what that meant. "Do you think she could do this without even knowing?"
Stiles nodded slowly. "It's possible. I mean, she's been used before. Who's to say she hasn't been used again? What if she was manipulated in some way? It's not like we've figured out exactly how her abilities work."
The room was silent, the kind that comes with the realization that things are about to get a lot more complicated. The gravity of their situation settled on them like a thick fog. Stiles could see the tension in Scott's shoulders, the way his jaw tightened and relaxed as he processed everything Stiles had brought up.
Scott broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. "Okay, what do we do now?"
Stiles let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "We keep our eyes open. We watch everyone. And we trust no one. Not until we know for sure."
Scott nodded, his expression firm. "Yeah, we've been through worse, haven't we?"
Stiles smiled, but his mind was already racing, thinking about kol, Jeremy, and everyone else who might be hiding something. "Yeah, we've been through worse," he said quietly.
But as he lay on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling that this time, they might not make it out the other side. The thought of kol lingered in his mind, the image of that smug smirk etched across his face. He felt his muscles tense involuntarily, his instincts screaming at him that kol was someone he knew.
Stiles sighed, turning his head to look at Scott, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. "Hello, Scott?"
"Yes?" Scott replied, his voice distant.
"Promise me something," Stiles said, his tone unusually serious.
Scott turned his head, meeting Stiles' gaze. "What?"
Stiles swallowed hard. "If need be, if Kol or anyone else tries something... promise me that you'll stand by me. No matter what."
Scott nodded without hesitation. "Always, Stiles. Always."
For a moment, the weight in the room seemed to lift slightly, the bond between them as strong as ever. But the uncertainty of what lay ahead loomed large, a dark cloud that refused to dissipate.
Stiles closed his eyes, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. He had a feeling that things were about to get a lot worse before they got better. And what about Kol Mikaelson? He was going to be watching him closely.
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Lydia
Lydia felt a twinge of dread as she stood at the front desk, staring at the number on the wall. 201. She could have sworn it had been labeled 198 just minutes earlier. She glanced at Allison, who was also staring at the number, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Didn't you say the sign said 198?" Allison asked.
Lydia nodded slowly, her mind racing. "It was 198," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Allison's eyes widened, and Lydia could see the fear creeping into her friend's expression. "So, what does that mean? That there are three more suicides?"
Lydia's heart pounded in her chest. "Or that three more suicides are about to happen," she whispered, feeling a wave of panic wash over her. Without thinking, she pulled out her phone and quickly texted Stiles. They had to get to the bottom of this, and fast.
As she hit the send button, Allison asked, "Who are you texting?"
"Stiles," Lydia replied, not taking her eyes off the number on the wall. "Who should we go to with this?" She hoped that Stiles would know what to do, that he could come up with a plan to resolve this.
Allison looked uncomfortable. "Scott," she suggested.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Well, because it worked so well last time," she mumbled, already heading back to their room. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were in grave danger, that there was something very wrong with this place.
When they reached their room, Lydia's mind was still reeling. She could barely concentrate, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and anxiety. The image of the changing number on the wall played over and over in her mind, like a bad movie she couldn't stop watching. She paced back and forth, trying to make sense of everything, while Allison sat on the edge of the bed, her face pale.
There was a knock on the door, and Lydia jumped, her heart pounding in her throat. She quickly moved to answer it, opening the door to find Stiles standing there, looking worried.
"What's going on?" he asked as he entered. Lydia closed the door behind him.
Lydia quickly began to explain, telling him about the hotel's history of suicides and the number on the wall that had inexplicably changed. She also told him about hearing the couple in the next room, their voices clear as day through the vent, and the sound of a terrifying gunshot.
Allison spoke up next, her voice shaking slightly. "I think you should know something. Scott came into our room earlier, while I was in the bathroom." Lydia raised her eyebrows at her, but Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That's not what you think. There was something wrong with him. The way he looked and spoke, he wasn't himself. And when I yelled at him, it was like he was coming out of a daze."
"You mean, like he was in a coma?" Lydia asked, feeling the tension start to return.
"Yeah," Allison said, and began to pace back and forth again. "And the last time Scott acted like that was during a full moon."
Stiles folded his arms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, he was definitely getting away from me, too. But really, it was Boyd who was really wrong. He went and put his fist in the vending machine."
Lydia's panic began to build again. "See?" she shouted, her voice rising. "It's the hotel. Okay, either we need to get out of here now," she moved to open a drawer and pulled out a Bible. "Or someone needs to learn how to exorcise evil spirits ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."
Stiles raised a hand to calm her down. "Well, just wait. What if it's not just the hotel?" He paused, a horrifying thought occurring to him. "You said the table went up by three, didn't you?"
Lydia nodded, her eyes wide. "You mean, like three sacrifices?" Allison asked.
Stiles nodded slowly, his face pale. "What if this time it's three werewolves? He has his fair share of options."
Lydia felt a shiver run down her spine. "Oh my god," she whispered. "Do you think someone is targeting them?"
"Yes," Stiles said.
Lydia's mind was racing. "We need to find Scott and the others," she said quickly. "If they're being targeted, they need to know."
Allison nodded, her face determined. "We're splitting up. I'm going to go find Scott. Stiles and Lydia, go find Boyd and Isaac. We'll meet back here in an hour."
Stiles nodded, already awake. Lydia grabbed Allison's arm as Stiles left the room, her mind still spinning. "I don't like this," she said quietly. "Not at all."
Allison squeezed her reassuringly. "We'll figure this out, That's what we always do."
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Allison
Allison's heart was pounding as she moved quickly through the dimly lit hallway toward Scott's room, her mind racing with anxiety. Fear was eating away at her, spurring her on. She needed to find Scott now.
She reached Scott's door, noticing that it was slightly ajar. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she hesitated at the threshold. "Scott?" she called out hesitantly, slowly pushing the door open. "Are you in here?"
Her voice echoed back to her as she entered the room, which was completely empty. The bed was neatly made, and there were no signs of struggle or distress, but something felt off. Her instincts were telling her that something was very wrong.
Allison quickly left the room, her eyes scanning the hallway. When she emerged, she was surprised to see Jeremy standing there with a stranger, a man with sharp features and an intense gaze.
"Jeremy and... a strange man," Allison said, startled by their sudden presence.
The man smiled a tight smile. "Stefan," he said quietly. "My name is Stefan."
Jeremy ignored Stefan for a moment, turning his full attention to Allison. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident on his face.
Allison's eyes stayed on Jeremy. She remembered how he had protected her during the bird attack at school, and how genuine his concern had seemed. And now, there he was again, looking at her with the same concern. For a moment, she thought he looked so cute, his messy hair and serious eyes giving him a boyish charm.
"I'm fine," she lied, but her voice trembled slightly. She was far from fine. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, making it difficult to think clearly.
Jeremy wasn't convinced. "We heard you screaming for Scott. Are you sure you're okay?"
Allison hesitated, then shook her head. "You know what? No, I'm not fine. Scott's missing, and I'm worried. Can you help me look for him?"
Jeremy's face softened. "Sure," he said without hesitation. He glanced at Stefan, who was watching the exchange with a curious and slightly amused expression.
Stefan's lips twitched in a half smile, then he sighed, nodding slightly. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll help, too."
Allison couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Stefan than met the eye. His presence seemed almost... unnatural. But right now, she needed all the help she could get to find Scott.
"Thank you," Allison said, trying to force a small smile as she looked between Jeremy and Stefan. "Let's split up. Jeremy, come with me. Stefan, can you check out the East Wing?" Stefan nodded.
Allison led Jeremy in the opposite direction, her mind racing with possibilities. As they moved through the winding halls, she kept looking at Jeremy, appreciating the stability of his presence. She still couldn't shake her anxiety. There was something terribly wrong here, something lurking in the shadows of this hotel.
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Stiles
Lydia was rushing forward, her steps quick and determined, and Stiles was practically running to keep up with her. He could see the frustration in her posture, the way her shoulders were, and he knew he had really screwed up this time.
"Lydia, I'm sorry," Stiles said out loud, trying desperately to make amends as he followed her down the dimly lit hallway. "I didn't mean you were trying to kill people. I just meant that you might be involved in some way, in getting people to kill themselves. And now that you say it out loud, it sounds really awful. So maybe I should stop talking."
Lydia didn't reply, but Stiles could tell by the way she was walking quick and purposeful that she wasn't ready to forgive him yet. He sighed, feeling the familiar weight of worry settle in his stomach. He always had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time.
As they turned the corner, Stiles noticed a figure approaching them a man with confident strides and piercing eyes that seemed to take everything in at once. Instinctively, Stiles felt a growing sense of wariness.
"Who are you?" Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes at the stranger he remembered had been on the bus with them and sitting next to Jeremy.
"Stefan I am Jeremy's friend," the man said, trying to ease the tension.
Stiles snorted, his face filled with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "Jeremy's friend," he repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "We can't talk to you right now," he added sharply, turning his attention back to Lydia.
But Stefan didn't back down. "I'm looking for Scott, too," he said calmly, his gaze steady.
That made Stiles pause. He glanced sharply at Stefan, his protective instincts kicking in. "What do you want from Scott?" he asked, his tone now tinged with suspicion.
Before Stefan could answer, Lydia stopped abruptly in her tracks. Her expression changed, her eyes focused intently as if she were listening to something beyond the range of normal hearing.
"Stiles, do you hear that?" Lydia asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Stiles frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Heard what?"
"A baby crying," Lydia whispered, her gaze darting as if searching for the source of the sound. "And a woman... I hear water running."
"Water?" Stiles repeated, looking around the dim hallway. He followed Lydia's gaze to a nearby drain and watched as she knelt beside him, pressing her ear closer.
"Lydia, what do you hear?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady as a sense of fear filled him.
"A baby crying," she repeated, her voice shaking slightly. "And a woman... telling her to stop. It's coming from over there." She pointed to one of the rooms at the end of the hallway.
Stiles's heart sank as he recognized the direction. "I know whose room this is," he muttered sadly. Without another word, he took off, Lydia close behind him.
They rushed into the room, and Stiles' stomach dropped as he saw Boyd's feet sticking out of the sink, his body submerged in the water. Panic washed over him. He ran quickly and tried to drain the water, but to no avail.
"He blocked it," Stiles said, his fingers clawing at the wet, slippery surface. "Something's blocked the drain. I can't get to it."
"What do we do?" Lydia gasped, her eyes wide with fear.
Stefan moved quickly, trying to lift the heavy safe off of Boyd. Stiles watched, his heart pounding. "Is he dead?" Lydia whispered in a shaky voice.
"No, not yet," Stefan replied quietly, his muscles tensing as he tried to lift the safe. "He's fighting me. Trying to stop me from pulling that thing off of him."
"How long can a werewolf stay underwater?" Lydia asked, the panic clear in her voice.
Stefan's eyes widened as he realized what had happened. "werewolf. This guy is a werewolf," he muttered, more to himself than to them.
Stiles shot him a disbelieving look. "You think I know that?" he snapped back at Lydia's question. "And you seem to know," he added, staring at Stefan. "You're a supernatural yourself, or you wouldn't have been able to move the safe even a little bit."
Stefan looked at him wide eyed, taken aback by Stiles's accusation. "I'm just trying to help," he said in a calm but firm tone.
But then, a thought popped into Stiles' head. "The fireplace," he suddenly said, his eyes widening in realization. "Ethan got out of it when he touched the fireplace."
"What?" Lydia shouted, her voice rising in panic.
"It's the heat," Stiles explained urgently. "The heat does that. The fire. We need to burn him!"
"He's underwater!" Lydia shouted at him, her frustration boiling.
"Yes, I know!" Stiles shouted, his mind racing. He racked his brain for a solution, something, anything that could save Boyd. Then Lydia gasped, her face lighting up with sudden realization.
"The bus," she gasped. "On the bus! They'll have emergency road signs. They run on oxidizers. They can burn underwater."
Stiles stared at her, both fascinated and puzzled. "Are you serious?"
"Yes!" she confirmed, her eyes wide with urgency. "Go! Now!"
Without wasting another second, Stiles sprinted out the door, his legs pulsing as he raced against time. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the sound of his shoes hitting the floor, the blood rushing through his veins. Every second counted, and he knew Boyd's life depended on it.
As he burst through the door and ran down the hallway, Stiles mentally mapped out the quickest route to the bus. He could almost see it in his mind a straight path down the hallway, out the side door, across the parking lot. He pushed himself harder, faster, his breath coming in short gasps. His muscles screamed in protest, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't.
Finally, he reached the bus. He slammed into the side, using momentum to propel himself up the steps and into the narrow aisle. He scanned the rows of seats, his eyes moving frantically until he saw the emergency signs in a compartment near the driver's seat.
"Thank God," he muttered under his breath, grabbing a handful of the signs. Without missing a beat, he sprinted out of the bus, his lungs burning as he pushed himself harder.
The run back seemed longer, each step feeling like an eternity. But Stiles refused to slow down. He could picture Boyd, trapped and struggling, his life hanging by a thread. And he knew he had to get back. He had to save him. When he finally rushed into the room, he slipped and stopped, panting heavily. "I got them!" "He shouted as he held up the rockets.
Lydia's eyes widened in relief. "Hurry, light it!" she urged.
Stiles struggled with the rockets, his hands shaking with adrenaline. He managed to light one, and it exploded in a bright, fiery light. He carefully lowered it into the water next to Boyd, hoping it worked.
The rockets hissed and crackled as they burned underwater, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, he saw Boyd begin to move, his body reacting to the heat.
"It worked!" Lydia shouted, her voice full of hope. Boyd's eyes shot open, and he gasped for air, his body trembling as he struggled with the weight holding him down.
Stefan, still struggling with the safe, redoubled his efforts. With one last, powerful lift, he managed to lift it high enough for Boyd to get out from under it. Boyd coughed and stuttered, swallowing air as Stefan pulled him to land. Safety.
Stiles let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and a wave of relief washed over him. His mind was now trying to figure what Stefan was but he didn't have time. He had to help Isaac. He headed over to where Isaac was hiding with a torch hidden behind his back. Stefan or what Stefan was didn't matter right now.
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Jeremy
Jeremy and Allison met Stefan, Lydia, and Stiles on the stairs on the way to the bus stops.
"Allison! Boyd and Isaac are fine, but we need to find Scott," Lydia cried out in a trembling voice.
Allison's face was etched with worry as she turned to Lydia. "Scott's missing," she gasped. "He wasn't in his room.Or anywhere else"
Without waiting for further discussion, Stiles was already moving toward the door. "There's another torch on the bus," he muttered, determination etched into his features.
Jeremy watched Stiles rush away. Confused by the torch mention, Jeremy turned to Stefan, seeking to clarify. "What's going on?" he asked, hoping for some answers.
Stefan's focus remained sharp, his gaze following Stiles. "I'll explain later," he replied briefly, his tone making it clear that there was no time for explanations now.
Before Jeremy could respond, the group froze in their tracks. In the middle of the parking lot stood Scott, holding a lit torch. Jeremy's heart skipped a beat at the sight. Scott was standing in a pool of gasoline, not water.
"Scott?" Allison cried out, her voice a mixture of worry and desperation as she cautiously approached him. "Scott, what are you doing?"
Scott's eyes were fixed down, his expression blank and emotionless. "There's no hope," he whispered, barely audible over the crackling of the torch.
"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison asked, her voice cracking. "There's always hope."
Scott shook his head slowly, his voice heavy with sadness. "Not for me. Not for Derek."
Allison's face scrunched up in grief as tears filled her eyes. "Derek wasn't your fault, Scott," she cried. "It wasn't your fault."
Jeremy could see the pain etched on Allison's face, the desperation in Scott's eyes. He took a hesitant step forward, trying to make sense of the situation. He reached out, taking Allison's sobbing hand, offering her silent support amidst the chaos.
"It was my fault," Scott said, his voice shaking. "Every time I try to fight back, people keep getting hurt. But when I don't, people end up dying. Derek tried to warn me, but I didn't listen." His gaze was distant, lost in memory. "I let Deucalion seduce me. I left us all trapped. Derek died because of me."
Stiles stepped forward, his voice shaking but firm. "Scott, stop. Think twice. This isn't you talking. There's someone in your head making you feel this way."
Scott looked up, his eyes filled with fear. "What if it wasn't? What if this was actually the best thing I could do for everyone?"
Lydia's face paled, and Jeremy saw the tears streaming down Allison's face once more. The intensity of the moment was almost unbearable. Scott's eyes were clear, but his tone was broken and defeated, terrifying them all.
"Scott... you're wrong," Stiles said in a strained voice. "Derek isn't dead. I know that. I can feel it. And even if he is, it's not your fault. He chose to be there."
"To come after me," Scott said bitterly. "To keep me and Isaac from being kidnapped by an Alpha because of my stupid idea. To keep us from falling into an obvious trap." His voice hardened, tinged with anger and self loathing. "I wasn't popular. I wasn't good at lacrosse. I wasn't anything. I didn't matter... I wasn't anyone. And then everything changed, but I never took it seriously. You were always there, trying to help me, and I didn't care. I did what I wanted, and there was always someone paying the price. There was always someone getting hurt. Maybe it's best for everyone that I go back to having nothing. Nobody."
Stiles took a step forward, his voice steady despite the tears streaming down his face. "Scott, just listen to me. You're someone. You always have been. You're my best friend. You're my brother." His voice cracked with emotion. "And to think that everything would be better without you, that's not true."
Jeremy watched the exchange intently, his heart aching with every word. He felt the weight of Stiles' desperation as he took another step closer to Scott, pulling his gaze away from the glowing flames.
"You care, Scott. You've always cared more than any of us," Stiles continued. "You're the one who can't stand to see anyone get hurt, even when they deserve it."
Jeremy's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the intensity of the moment, the raw emotion that filled the air around them. Stiles took another step, closing the distance between him and Scott. "We need you. I need you. Do you understand?" Stiles' voice was filled with a mixture of pleading and determination.
To Jeremy's shock, Stiles stepped into the puddle of gasoline. Allison and Lydia tried to stop him, but Stiles raised a hand, stopping them both. "But if you really think this is the best thing you can do, then you should take me with you."
Scott was sobbing uncontrollably now, his shoulders shaking. He lifted his head to meet Stiles's gaze, and Jeremy saw the depth of their bond clear and unwavering. Stiles was willing to stand by Scott, even in his darkest moments. Jeremy's chest tightened. The gravity of the situation was almost too much to bear.
Stiles slowly reached for the torch in Scott's hand, never taking his eyes off his friend. Scott made no move to stop him. With a quick movement, Stiles grabbed the torch and tossed it away, tossing it aside. Jeremy let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and relief washed over him.
But the relief was short lived. As if moved by some unseen force, the flame began rolling back toward the pool of gasoline where Stiles and Scott stood. Jeremy's eyes widened in horror. The wind seemed to catch the flame, pushing it toward the fuel. Time seemed to slow down as the flames got closer, the fire greedily moving toward the gasoline.
Suddenly, Jeremy saw someone move out of the corner of his eye. No, he didn't just move he moved with the speed of a vampire. It was like watching a bolt of lightning, so fast that Jeremy barely noticed the movement before kol reached them. He tackled Stiles and Scott, shoving them out of the way as the flame struck the pool, igniting it with a deafening roar.
The flames erupted in a massive inferno that lit up the night sky. Jeremy's heart pounded, his mind struggling to process everything that was happening. He watched in awe and confusion as kol stood there, his chest heaving with the effort. Jeremy had never seen anyone move so fast, not even a vampire. It was like something primal had taken over him.
Jeremy turned to look at the flames, his eyes wide with shock. For a brief moment, as the flames danced and crackled, a hooded figure stood in the middle of the fire. The figure looked almost ethereal, his face pale and scratched. Jeremy's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the dark presence emanating from him, a chill running down his spine despite the heat of the flames.
"What... what is that?" Jeremy whispered, barely audible above the roar of the fire.
"Darash," Lydia whispered, her voice filled with fear.
Jeremy looked around, trying to find Scott and Stiles. They were unharmed, lying on the ground where Kol had pushed them. But when Jeremy turned to look at kol, he realized kol was gone.
The flames continued to burn, but the figure was gone. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of fire and the ragged breathing of those who had just been rescued from its deadly grip.
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kol
Kol was standing in the dark woods near the Glen Capri Motel, breathing heavily. His chest was heaving with effort as he leaned against a tree, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. His mind was a tangled mess, emotions swirling like a whirlpool. He could still feel the heat of the flames on his skin, hear the crackling of the fire, see Stiles's terrified face.
He had moved without thinking, his body reacting instinctively before his mind could register what was happening. The moment he saw the flames roll into the gasoline, something deep inside him snapped. He didn't see Stiles standing there, he saw Henrik his little brother, innocent and defenseless, standing on the brink of death.
"Henrik..." Kol whispered, his voice barely breathing. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, it was as if time had folded back on itself. He felt the same desperation, the same overwhelming need for protection. He had failed Henrik once, but he couldn't fail him again. His legs moved of their own accord, his vampire speed propelling him forward like a force of nature.
But now, as he stood alone in the dark, the reality of what he had done sunk in. It wasn't Henrik who had saved him. It was Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, the boy who looked so much like his lost brother but wasn't him. A cold, empty feeling settled in his chest.
He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms as he tried to control his emotions. He didn't know why he had acted this way, a nightmare that was only broken when he saw the fear in Stiles' eyes.
Stiles' eyes...
Kol shook his head, trying to erase the image from his mind. But it remained, a painful reminder of his failure to protect Henrik, a failure that had haunted him for centuries.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, to push away the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to focus, but as he stood there, the night air cold against his skin, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted inside him. Something he didn't understand, something he couldn't control. And for the first time in a long time.
Kol Mikaelson felt afraid.
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I wrote the Stiles and Scott scene. From Jeremy's point of view, because I wanted to show that the scene was powerful even for people who didn't know them.
who should be with Stiles?
Bonnie or Cora
If you liked the chapter, write a comment, and if you have a suggestion, it will be appreciated .