Love Kills {Sterek}

Chapter 7

Stiles:

"Uh - C-come in," Stiles said, his voice faltering.

"I'm fine right here," the Sheriff responded, a chilling calmness in his tone. "Where the hell have you been. You were discharged two and a half weeks ago and you fall off the damn face of the Earth?"

Stiles' eyes widened at his realization; many of his words were slurred. "Dad," he sighed, "you're drunk. How much have you drank?"

"Not enough."

"Dad, you're hammered. How could you not have enough?"

"I still remember your pathetic fucking face," he snarled, his brows knitting together to form a scowl.

Stiles was taken aback but before he could have any real reaction a small bang was heard upstairs, catching the both of their attention.

"Who the fuck was that?" the Sheriff slurred.

Stiles remained silent, giving a sad look towards his father.

"Who the fuck was it!" the Sheriff screamed, shoving his way through Stiles and towards the staircase. Stiles heard the metal stairs rattle as Derek appeared at the bottom, squaring himself with the Sheriff. "I should've know a fucking pathetic excuse for a murderer would kidnap my pathetic fucking son."

"Leave him alone," Derek spoke monotonously, his jaw tightening.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking scoundrel," Sheriff growled, raising his fist.

Stiles raised his hand, yelling, "Stop!" The Sheriff's body froze instantly and Derek slowly opened his eyes, looking - shocked - at Stiles, whose eyes were wide in terror. "What - what the hell did I do? Markus, what did I do?"

"Don't freak out Stiles," Markus called, walking down the flight of stairs, "he's just in a trance, he can't hear - or sense - anything right now, since you're the Shadar your trances leave them in a comatose sate."

"Well how do we fix it?" Stiles asked frantically.

"Stiles, everything you could ever want to do, everything you will ever need to do, you just have to think and move. Sometimes there are large actions or verbal phrases but many times you can control everything with your mind and the flick of a wrist. So try it."

Stiles sighed, lifting his shaking arm, slowly lowering it with a defeated sigh.

"Stiles?" Derek treaded carefully.

"I don't want him to remember. Any of it."

"Okay," Markus clasped his hands together, "How far back do you want him to forget?"

"All the way before my diagnosis. About five months."

Markus nodded and strolled to the frozen man, raising his right hand to the cheek of the Sheriff. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glowing grey as they stared down the pupils of the Sheriff, making them expand in size. He dropped his hand after a small amount of time, nodding towards Stiles. "Think about him being in your house, then flick your wrist downwards."

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated. He swiped his hand downward and a mist of black smoke surrounded the Sheriff before consuming his body, dissipating and leaving nothing behind.

"Great job, Stiles. You're a natural."

Derek forced a small smile, leaning into Stiles, only to be met with nothing but air as Stiles stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. "I need - I have to take a walk. I'm sorry," Stiles shakily exhaled, turning and hurrying out the front door. Tears streamed down his face as he tumbled through the trees and vegetation. His heart slammed in his chest and his breathing altered. "Not now. Not fucking now, Stiles," he mumbled to himself, slumping against a tree. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, thinking of the better times in his life - him and Scott playing video games, his first lacrosse game, when he actually scored, his mom. His mom. Stiles shot his eyes open and stood up, fixing his shirt before inhaling and focusing on the ground in front of him. He raised his hand and shot it towards the ground, causing swirling grey smoke to appear.

When the smoke cleared his face lit up in a smile. There, right in front of him, stood Markus. "You beckoned?"

"How do we get my mom back?" Stiles asked, his voice strong and unwavering.

"We need to find the Nemeton. I'm hoping that you know where it is since, y'know, I've never been there before."

Stiles nodded his head, cocking it to the right a tad bit in confusion, before closing his eyes, picturing the cut down tree. He raised his hand and repeated his earlier motion, slamming the hand towards the ground. When he opened his eyes the two of them stood in front of the large tree - or what remained of it.

"So this is the so called Nemeton?" Markus asked, running his hand along the rings of the stump.

"Yeah, so what do we have to do from here?"

"Just repeat after me," he spoke, "Mutare oculis inspicere in inferna, merge illis quasi unus."

Stiles repeated him verbatim, his eyes glowing orange. He looked around and the once colorful, nature-friendly area was not in near black and white. He gasped when he saw the sheer amount of spirits gathered around the stump - some walking, some floating, and some laying on the ground. 

"What do we have to do from here?" Stiles asked, looking around for his mom. "Markus?"

"When you see her, chant this: afferte superficie quod nullatenus deducentur," Markus said, his voice rough and demonic.

Stiles turned around and gaped at the boy in front of him. Markus looked around the tree, his eyes pure darkness, his body surrounded by black swirls, and a demonic smirk plastered to his face. Stiles scrambled from where he was and began sprinting through the spirits. His head whipped back and forth, searching for his mother's face. He skidded to a stop and his breathing caught in his throat. There, not but ten feet before him, stood Allison. He quickly inhaled and chanted the phrase, flipping his hand upwards. Allison's spirit dissipated.

"Darkness, Stiles," the demonic voice called from behind him, "is very good at portraying the light."

Stiles yelled, pushing his hands out in front of himself, propelling Markus backwards. He continued running around the stump, coming upon both his mother and his victim, Aiden. Once again, Stiles repeated the chant, "Afferte superficie quod nullatenus deducentur," slamming his hand upwards as he was tackled to the ground. Stiles fought to get Markus off of him, but failed, getting a violently loud hiss in his face.

"Thank you, Stiles, for doing the hard work. I couldn't have released them without your gracious support," he said, lifting his hand above Stiles' head, his eyes glowing grey, "Now start over."

* A/N: Thank you all for reading thus far and for all the support with this story. I am going to try to update this weekend because I won't be able to do so next we since I have the rest of my finals to prepare for. Thank you guys again <3 *