Pack Mentality // s. stilinski

Epilogue

Cadmus didn't remember clearly what had happened after he pushed the angel back. The night was a puzzle, a piece here, a random detail there. 

He remembered Gerard on the floor, black blood pooling around him like a death sentence.

He remembered being in the backseat of Stiles' jeep as they burst through the wall of the warehouse, and the reverberating thud of the kanima bouncing off the hood. 

He remembered Allison there, with her bow.

Derek was there.

Jackson died.

He was a wolf now.

Everything worked out somehow, and Cadmus was left with a series of voids in his memory, and a collection of inhuman powers he wasn't all too sure how to use.

He could hear Allison moving around in the next room, no doubt looking for things to pack. Cadmus was already finished with his suitcase, all of his essentials tucked away inside the zipped bag. He figured he would end up buying some new things in France, even if he only was going to be there for the summer.

Cadmus wandered over to his bookshelf, pondering the titles. He had a separate bag that would fit several of them, plus a few DVD's. The problem was that Cadmus didn't want to choose a specific few of the books to bring along, he wanted all of them. He ran his fingers lightly over the spines of his books thoughtfully. Did he bring the ones he knew he loved, ones that surely wouldn't disappoint, or could he take a chance and bring ones he hadn't read yet but looked good? 

His slow thoughts were interrupted by the dull ringing of his phone from it's spot on his bed. Sleepily, Cadmus trudged over to the spot and gazed at the caller I.D. Stiles.

Cadmus wasn't sure where he stood with Stiles; he knew something had happened that night the angel almost took over, but of course his memory of the event was obscured. There was a certain way that Stiles look at him now, a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. Like he'd realized something. Cadmus figured it was the same light he bore now. Because he realized how much Stiles meant to him now- he meant enough that Cadmus would maybe shout it from the rooftops, he meant enough that it was an echo of his name that had pulled Cadmus out of the dark prison that was his own mind after the angel had taken over. He wasn't sure what had spurred it, but he knew now. 

Stiles was the only things that could save him, and he was possibly the only person who knew how.

Cadmus bent over to grab the phone, pressing accept as he did. He put the phone to his ear. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hey, Cadmus, it's Stiles," Stiles said back, and Cadmus felt an involuntary grin work at his mouth.

"I know, Stiles," Camdus reminded his friend. "Caller I.D."

There was a slight pause on the other end, likely born of embarrassment, before Stiles spoke again. "Ha, yeah, I knew that. Um, hey, listen-" he stopped abruptly to clear his throat, and Cadmus felt a spike of nerves in his stomach. "I know you're going to France and all for the summer, but, I mean, you're not going to like, stay there, right?"

It was somehow thrilling to think that Stiles might be worrying over him never coming back. Cadmus grinned softly. "No. I still go to Beacon Hills, Stiles."

Again with the slight pause. "Oh, okay. Good. Cool." Cadmus hoped he wasn't imagining the relief in Stiles' voice.

"Yeah," Cadmus said. "I just don't think I'd be able to abandon the cyclones."

"Yeah, the cyclones." Stiles let his words out on the heels of a breathy laugh, as if he wasn't sure about saying them. Like he knew Cadmus hadn't really meant the cyclones.