Chapter Text
Allison rocked gently back and forth in her chair, sipping her tea and knitting a scarf. A small tug on her sleeve failed to gain the attention of her age-weary senses. She continued knitting, the scarf was as long as her forearm.
Scott listened to an old-fashioned radio blaring out the stats of a small town lacrosse game. He perused his newspaper, not quite taking in the titles. A distant voice calling his name failed to pierce the muted hearing that old age had granted him. The newspaper he had read was as thick as his finger.
*****
“Stiles it’s five am. You better have a good reason for this” Derek grumbled into the phone, his voice was thick with sleep and Stiles almost thought it was adorable for a second, before a growl followed it at the delayed silence.
“Scott went looking for Allison who went missing and he told me that if he didn’t contact me by midnight I should go to you for help. I didn’t want to wake you until I was certain something was wrong. His car is still at her house and his phone is lying on the pavement.”
“Were are you now?” Derek’s voice rose slightly.
“Allisons. Obviously.”
“Get in the house and stay there until I arrive. I will be right there.”
*****
Allison rocked gently back and forth, she sipped her tea which was just slightly less sweet and continued to knit her scarf. The tug on her arm was slightly more persistent and a shadow began to play in the corner of her vision. She continued to knit, the scarf was as long as her torso.
Scott listened to the radio, the quality had begun to blur ever so slightly, and occasional words were replaced with white noise. He continued to browse the newspaper, the words of the titles seemed darker, slightly clearer but still blurred. The small voice that cried out to him was beginning to tickle the decrepit workings of his ears. The newspaper he had read was as thick as his clenched fist.
*****
Stiles picked his way slowly through the undergrowth. The werewolves where spread in a sline in fornt of him, following the strangely muted scent of Scott. When Stiles had asked what it was muted by, they told him it was almost like, happiness. Soon after that, they began to pick up Allison’s scent as well. Muted in the same way.
“What is that horrible smell?” Stiles muttered, drawing the sharp looks of 4 werwolves. Derek paused and sniffed the air, then cringed.
“We were busy tracking Scott. I didn’t notice it...” the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and rotten fruit, a slight stench of sulfur was stinging Stiles’ nostrils. “One of the demon’s must have taken him” he turned to the other wolves “Keep your eyes and ears open. I will track his scent”
Derek bowed his head and continued to follow the trail as Erica, Isaac and Jackson all scanned the forest around them, their ears pricking towards distant sounds that were too low for Stiles to comprehend.
*****
Allison rocked gently back and forth in her chair. The cushion beneath her was feeling lumpy and hard. She sipped her tea, it was cold and had no sugar. She continued to knit her scarf. The tug on her arm was stronger. It was beginning to iritate her, to hurt her, but still she could not look away from her work. The shadows playing in the corner of her eyes had solidified, but she was unable to look. The scarf was as long as her body.
Scott sat listening to the old-fashioned radio as it blaired white-noise at him. His dressing gown had lost it’s warmth, becoming threadbare and itchy, his soft slippers crumbling as the stitching began to fray. His ears began to throb as the voice increased in it’s intensity. He could not make out what it was saying. His newspaper had begun to become cluttered, the articles ran into one another in a frenzied mass, the titles bold and clear against the mute grey paper. He began to notice words, titles, messages. The newspaper he had read was as thick as his thigh.
*****
Isaac hit Derek in a tackle, moving the man’s head an inch out of the way of a razor sharp crossbow bolt as it flew from within the trees ahead. Stiles, Erica and Jackson all ducked down and made themselves as small a target as possible. They peered into the now dark trees in an attempt to see their attacker.
A wicked cackling laughter echoed all around them and they heard a familiar voice call out from seemingly no direction.
“I won’t let you harm my family wolves. I will protect them. I will protect her.”
“We would never harm Allison” Stiles yelled out, ignoring the sharp glare from Derek.
“Allison can take care of herself. She is a strong girl.”
Chris Argent appeared in front of them, his shape outlined with darkness, a hideous figure drifted towards him, tall, thin and ghostly white, it reached out and gently brushed his face with incredibly long claws, pulling his attention to its large perfectly silver eyes.
“Chris my dear” it hissed, its voice sounded thick and oozed with malice “take care of our guests will you dear? I am just preparing dinner.”
“Yes Vicky.”
Chris turned suddenly and Stiles just had time to duck back before the next crossbow bolt embedded itself in the tree where his head had been seconds before.
*****
Allison sat in the rigid chair, her back was sore and splinters were digging into her fragile skin. She continued to knit, the pins pricking her hands and the half the scarf was red with her blood. She sipped her tea and she cut her lips on the jagged edges of the porcelain, the tea itself was freezing, unsweetened and the curdled milk was pink with her own blood. The shadow was now a full formed figure, still featureless but laughing maniacally. The tug on her arm had started to rip her fragile skin. She continued to knit, the scarf was half red and wrapped around her chair and around her in a growing pile.
Scott sat listening to the radio. It blared white noise at him so loudly that his head was throbbing with a migraine, every attempt he had made to turn it down had electrocuted his fingers and they were raw with burns. His fingers were covered in paper cuts as he continued to read. Words began to jump out of the titles ‘Scott’, ‘trapped’, ‘Need to Break Out’, ‘Scott’, ‘Scott!’. The voice grew louder and he strained his ears to listen. The newspaper he had read was piled as tall as his chair. Scott shook his head, reached out resolutely towards the radio. His eyes glowed as he grasped the knob and turned the volume down, electricity coursed through his body and he ground his toothless gums together.
*****
“Stiles! You need to get to Scott and wake him up.” Derek yelled out from behind a fallen log, he then dived to the side and rolled behind a large rock as a flash bomb landed just where he had been.
“Come on you filthy mutts! Is that the best you’ve got?!” Argent screamed at them. He began running towards the spot where Erica was hidden, giving stiles an opening. He got up and ran towards the strange black cocoons that contained Scott and Allison.
Stiles pulled out his knife and attempted to cut the material, but it was thick and rubbery, and the knife didn’t even scratch it, the demon laughed at him, making no move to actually stop him.
It’s laughter quickly died, soon replaced by shrieks of pain as Stiles ripped the cocoon to shreds with his mind. As soon as he could touch Scott, he began calling his name, shaking him to wake up. Still focussed on Scott, he also began to tug on Allison’s arm, bruising her soft skin with the force.
*****
Scott jerked the knob of the radio and for a second the silence was bliss. He looked hazily around him, and then the voice began to call him again.
“Scott! Scott you need to wake up now”
He looked down to the newspaper and saw the titles, ‘Scott you need to get Allison and Wake Up!’ ‘Scott please listen to me, I need you to get out of there!’. Scott’s face scrunched in confusion, he looked at the name of the author for these two articles. Stiles.
Scott’s head snapped up and he focussed on his surroundings. He saw Allison, he lips and hands were bloody and she was almost wrapped in a huge bloodied scarf that she was still knitting. When he looked closer the scarf looked like it was made from her own snowy white hair, stained by her butchered hands. He looked past her and saw Chris argent bashing on some invisible wall like some kind of pantomime.
Then everything collapsed.
Allison looked up from her scarf, the wall holding Argent shattered and the surreal idyllic world melted around them, and suddenly Scott was looking at a dark forest.
*****
“Scott” Stiles said, drawing the boy’s attention to him. His eyes became focussed and he instantly shook off his stupor. He hopped out of the remnants of the cocoon and turned to help Allison, who was still looking dazed.
Stiles turned back to the forest just in time to see Argent pulling his bow back, aimed at Derek. Derek whose back was turned, holding the demon by its throat against a tree.
The arrow flew from the bow. Stiles didn’t have enough time to stop it, he screamed.
The arrow hit its mark. Directly in the middle of the demon’s forehead. It slumped forward in Derek’s grip and began to smoulder, smoke rising from its body as it crumbled and burned.
Derek snapped around to glare at Chris.
“You could have hit me”
“Oh please, I think I have enough experience under my belt to hit the right f*cking target, wolf. I should have hit you.” Chris snapped.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because my wife keeps a diary. She tried to kill Scott and you defended him. He was still innocent. She was wrong”
Derek paused, then nodded.
“Stiles!” he snapped, turning towards the boy “What was that thing?”
Stiles opened his mouth but Chris spoke first.
“It was a Drude. An earth demon of Sloth. It traps victims in a dream-like state that promotes feelings of laziness and neglect, and it feeds of those energies until the victim dies.”
“And why did you kill it?”
“When I called it ‘Vicky’ I knew it wasn’t my wife. She hated that name. So I tried to wake Allison up from within the dream. At least two people in the dream must realise it is a dream for the spell to be broken”
“Y-yeah. What he said” Stiles muttered weakly. “WELL THEN! Great job killing the demons and all, let’s go home and party!”
Scott laughed and wrapped and arm around his shoulder, the others all just shook their heads and began walking home.
*****
Lydia walked quietly in to Danny’s room and stood expectantly. In particular she glared at Odin who was sitting next to Danny holding his hand.
“I have to talk to Danny. Alone.”
“And I don’t want to leave Danny right now. Really, if you have been given permission you can tell him while I am here. I already know”
Lydia looked stunned, and Danny shot a sharp look at Odin, pulling his hand out of his grip.
“You knew and didn’t tell me? In fact, I don’t even know what I am getting angry about somebody hurry and tell me!”
Odin smiled at Lydia.
“Oh... well um...” she stuttered slightly. Danny had never seen her flustered before either.
Odin sighed “Do you need help?”
“No! I can do it myself” Lydia snapped. “Danny, half this f*cking town are werewolves okay!” She turned on heel and stormed out of the room, calling over her shoulder “Talk to Jackson or your new boyfriend for more details”
Odin looked gingerly at Danny, expecting a outburst of shock and horror, but the teen was just sitting there nodding.
“Danny?”
“It’s fine, I knew it was something weird. There has been so much crazy sh*t going on around here, and heaps of people suddenly becoming athletic and beautiful, it was either some wonder drug or something supernatural” he shrugged.
Then he turned and looked at Odin’s eyes. “So are you a...”
“No. I am human. My parents were werewolves though, the eyes are a genetic mutation as a result of that”
“Cool”
Odin laughed and took Danny’s hand again. The two of them sat there until they both fell asleep. Odin lying across Danny’s chest with Danny’s hands tangled in his hair.
