Bane of My Existence

Wolves

The engine cools to a low hum as it turns off. Stiles stares ahead, in the back seat, Celia is vibrating with nerves.

"You should wait here." Scott says to her as he gets out, Lydia follows.

Celia and Stiles are alone in the car, his fingers tapping lightly on the wheel.

"We don't have to be here Celia. I can call them back and we can go right now, let my dad handle it."

She shakes her head.

"No. No, we promised her father we'd be the ones to find her..."

"Then what?" He prompts. "We find her, then what do we do?"

She's silent and he sighs.

"I just, don't want this to hurt you more than it already has." Stiles is gentle in his approach.

She shakes her head but he looks at her with concern.

"Seriously, Celi. You say the word and we're done. We'll leave and no one will know we were here."

At this she nods.

"Okay." Stiles whispers.

Climbing out of the car, Celia follows him. He starts to warn her against it but stops short. The two of them join Scott and Lydia on the rickety porch of the house.

"I guess we just let ourselves in." Scott remarks, half jokingly.

No one laughs. Instead, they take a step back as he turns the knob of the front door.

Inside the house, sunlight spills in from holes in the ceiling and walls. Support beams are splintered, every step they take echoes. The faint trickling of water far off can be heard but goes ignored.

"This is such a bad idea." Lydia swipes at the dust in front of her nose.

Stiles reaches behind him, finding Celia's hand. Scott leads the way through the rubble, taking cautious steps over broken glass and missing floorboards. Turning the corner around the large staircase, a gnawing, smacking sound grows louder. Snorts and grunting broken by a wet slosh ricochet off the walls. As Scott's eyes adjust to the darkness within the house he stops cold. Two animals, wolves, stand over what they've made their next meal. Throwing their heads side to side they tear bloody meat off the bone, growling at the other when they grow too close.

"Oh shit," he whispers.

Behind Stiles, Celia steps out to see. A shock of blonde hair peaks out from beneath the paw of a wolf. Gasping, she stumbles back, grabbing Stiles to steady herself. Her footsteps, though, are enough to alert the wolves to their presence. Scott turns to the group and yells for them to run.

The group is separated, running in different directions toward the exit. Stiles loses Celia and is cornered by a wolf. The other makes a break for Lydia, Scott pushing her aside to bear the brunt of the wolf's terror. Each one yelling for the other, Celia's last memory is the Stiles' voice distantly yelling her name, the feeling of split hardwood against her cheek.

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Sunlight falls over the dashboard in broken beams through the leaves overhead. Celia's feet are tucked underneath her sitting in the passenger seat. In the distance, the Hale House is towering and beautiful, the Victorian home lit from within by orange light. As Celia begins to focus on someone moving past a first floor window, Stiles opens the driver side door.

"You ready?" He asks her as he climbs into the seat.

She looks at him confused. Stiles laughs, his head tilting sharply to one side. He looks away toward the house as black smoke begins pouring from its windows. Shrill screams sting Celia's ears as she paws at the handle to move, to do something to help, but it's not there. When he looks back at her, Stiles' eyes are dark and sunken. His usually shy, sweet smile is turned crooked and his face pale.