Abandoned ▴ S.S [1]

Chapter 12

     Stiles looked broken. Everyone thought of them as brothers, closer to each other than anyone would think. Deaton knew, that Scott was Stiles' emotional tether.  But when Scott said those 16 words, Stiles' entire world shattered.

   "It is your fault, Stiles. You have never been my friend, and you never will be."

     "You don't mean that." Stiles whimpered, and even a blind man could see the pain welling up in his eyes. He shook his head absently, and it looked as if the boy was on the brink of a panic attack. Everyone that was watching, never taking their eyes off the scene, and wrapped what little clothing they had tightly around their bodies, as they were in California, and didn't expect the wind to pick up; the temperature drop so low they could see their icy breath.

     Scott nodded, his face still slack and impassive, and Stiles' eyes kept dancing across his face, searching for something  that would tell him it was all just a dream.

    It wasn't.

     Scott spoke, breaking the harrowing tension, and Stiles was nonplussed at the words he spoke. "Stiles, I'm serious. Deadly." His voice was filled with a bitter animosity.

     "I mean, why lie to me? Why lie, for how many years? Oh right, twelve," He spat resentfully, "Twelve years of lying to me, keeping secrets from me even when I spilled my damned heart out for you? Even when I trusted you with everything?"

     Stiles felt miserable. He felt as if there were a thousand weights on his shoulders, he felt as if Scott was right, he was truly and utterly selfish. I'm sorry, Scott. So, so sorry.

     "Scott, it wasn't like that. You know it wasn't, right? I was trying to keep us all safe." Stiles pleaded with Scott, and his eyes started to water.

     "Right, 'safe'. That's complete bullshit," he spat. "Safe from what? Those hunters? They meant nothing. You could have taken them out all on your own, 'keeping us safe' is just a bad excuse for not wanting to tell us. Why, Stiles? Why did you do this to us? To the pack? To me? Did everyone just mean nothing to you?"

     "Scott, no! You guys meant everything!" Stiles spoke, trying to find a reason other than their safety. Stiles did want to keep him and the pack safe, he thought, but Scott kept pushing Stiles away when he needed support the most.

     "Oh really, huh? Prove it to me then! Prove that we meant something to you!" Scott screamed at Stiles, heartache set deep in his golden brown eyes.

     Stiles' tongue got caught in his throat. "I- I..." He stuttered, and hated proving Scott right.

     "But you know what? Now, you mean nothing to me. You meant nothing the day you almost got Allison killed, because you were too weak, too scared to fight back. You want to know why I kicked you out of the pack?"

     Stiles shook his head, but he didn't ever want to know the answer."Because you were useless. You are useless. And you will never be important to me, or anyone that is sided with me."

    Everyone looked around, as dark, foreboding clouds now covered the sky, and the wind was howling so loud, they couldn't hear themselves think. One person saw how Stiles was about to break, and made a final decision to step in.

     This person held his gun to the back of Scott's head, in the meanwhile snapping a twig laying nonchalant on the ground in the process. Scott, being in his bellicose state of anger and compulsion for revenge, twisted around. his claws trailing behind him.

"Don't you dare talk about my-"

     Scott's claws swiped across his chest. Red bloomed across the pale, nude shirt, spreading outwards like a rose. Sometimes, pain can be beautiful. The man's lungs filled with a maroon fluid, and he choked out a cry he knew wasn't going to be answered.