Oblivion » Stiles Stilinski |Book One

Cold Case

I was determined.  I felt confident that we were being lead to the correct location as Stilinski lead us into the somewhat empty lobby of the mental institution, where Stiles was expected to be.  The receptionist looked rather surprised as he removed his sheriff's badge from his pocket and slammed it on the table with enough force to make it shake.

"I need access to all of your floors and basements," he ordered the shocked woman. 

We charged into the ominous basement and rushed from corner to corner in attempt to discover my missing boyfriend.  I expected to see him, hiding alone, his eyes full of fear, but also full of happiness to be found.  But all that this dusty basement held was cobwebs.  No Stiles.  Lydia's lip quivered as her gaze traveled around the walls.

"I don't understand," she choked out. "He has to be here.... I was.... I was so sure!"  Stilinski pressed his lips together in a hard line and glared at Lydia.

"You.... Where is he?  WHERE IS HE?" he screamed, but I could see the sadness in his brown eyes.  Lydia's eyes widened in fear and she stepped back.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..." she muttered as she turned away.

"Er, I'm sorry.  Let's go, kids." Stilinski frowned and stuffed his hands into his pockets before leading us up the stairs, a parade of hopeless and lost teenagers.  I pushed open the glass doors and trudged into the night, the air just on the cold side of perfect.  The last of my hope flushed from my heart and exited my body through the salty tears that traveled down my cheeks.  I stared down at my feet as I was lead unwillingly to my own car, and from there I forced myself into the driver's seat.

"So," I asked Scott,"what now?"  Scott's mouth opened, but before any sound could escape, Stilinski's radio transmitter sounded.  His eyes lit up with hope.

"They found Stiles' Jeep.  Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.  I'll meet you all there, follow me." He jogged to his sheriff's vehicle and ducked into before the headlights illuminated and I found myself following his trail. 

We sprinted into the large stone building, the lights illuminating the darkness that surrounded us.  We were greeted by Melissa, Scott's mother, the minute we entered the hall.

"They're doing sweeps of every floor," she informed us, reading Sheriff Stilinski's mind as she removed a pair of rubber gloves from her hands.  "All we can do now is relax, and do the best we can."  I nodded sheepishly and forced myself to sit in one of the cushioned purple chairs that lined the perimeter of the hall.  A shape moved in front of me and a puff of wind blew towards me as they moved to the chair next to me.

"It's a little late, isn't it?" Derek smirked, but I could still recognize the pity on his face.

"So, I'm supposed to sit around while my boyfriend is in danger of freezing to death?" I hissed.

"You know, that reminds me.  I have something to show you."  He led me up an uncomfortably shaky ladder to what seemed to be the roof of the building. 

"Ever heard of chemo-signals?" he asked.  "Just by using our scent, we can sense emotion, such as.... happiness, anger... frustration.  Take a deep breath, tell me what you feel."

I closed my eyes and breathed in, cold air flooding my nostrils and some odd feeling entering my body.

"Erm," I frowned. "Stress..."

"Anxiety," Derek added. 

"Stiles was up here, wasn't he?"

"He was.  Can you sense some type of.... conflict?"

"With who?"

"With himself."

All at once, the pieces of the puzzle fit together.  Something, or someone, was controlling Stiles. 

•••••••••

Scott's P.O.V.

"So, I'm reading over the transcript here...." my dad muttered as his eyes scaled the pages,"'Something smells terrible.  It's brutal, my eyes are watering'....."

"What about it?" I asked.

"What if Stiles is still asleep?  He might've been sleepwalking when he called you.  And he's still asleep now."