17. Feel it comin' in the air/Hear the screams from everywhere

[voluntaryapnea]

[Open Spam]

[He's always liked the woods. Practically grew up in them back in Beacon Hills with Scott. Years spent climbing trees and camping, other times spent fishing with his parents before his mom got sick and died, before his dad developed a bit of an alcohol problem and became a workaholic. The woods don't bother Stiles. Neither does only having two days worth of supplies. He no longer needs Adderall, so the lack of the drug in his system means he actually has a healthy appetite. That's the other great part about being a werewolf -- it means he can hunt his food when it runs out. And he knows from experience that the woods are full of perfectly edible creatures he can catch easily. If there's a pond or a river, he can fish.

He'll get by.

It's Lydia that he's currently worried about. He knows the rest of the pack hates her, that they won't lift a finger to help her even if she gets hungry. She hates them just as much. But with everyone being split up, it means that Scott will have a better chance at killing her -- again, or that someone else will try. He needs to find her first.

He straps the backpack to his back and sets off. The familiar sounds of nature are all around him, louder than he's used to. He keeps his comm in his jeans pocket in case Scott or Lydia try and reach him that way. For now he's content to use his enhanced senses to seek out the one he's looking for.]

Ooc: Stiles is affected by the event -- he's much more twisted and dangerous than the Stiles from the regular barge. Feel free to run into him over any of the days from the event!]

Comments

[semifreakingnormal]

I'm sorry.

[It's not his fault, but he can't help but feel like it is.]

I - the me in your world, I mean. He...At the motel?

[He remembers, vaguely, from his other self's memories, but it's been a while. It's hard to remember, and they fade, after a time. He's glad they do, or he doesn't think he'd sleep at night.]

[voluntaryapnea]

You're apologizing because I didn't get possessed?

[It's the closest to true amusement he's reached in awhile, but the amusement vanishes instantly at the mention of the motel. For the briefest of seconds, he's there again, watching Scott go up in flames as he stares in horror, frozen. He gets to his feet, eyes narrowing at Scott. Scott, but not his Scott, and not the replacement Scott but still Scott.]

I don't want to talk about that.

[semifreakingnormal]

No, I'm sorry I wasn't - that I didn't--

[He lets out a breath, shaking his head. That he wasn't strong enough to resist the darach's call on his own, that he wasn't brave enough to stay away from gasoline and a flare, that he wasn't--

He doesn't blame Stiles for not getting there in time. Just because it was Stiles - and Lydia - that saved him in his world...He shouldn't have let the wolfsbane do it to him in the first place. He should have been stronger.]

Stiles, man - [his throat is tight, but he pushes through it anyway,] - you're my brother. I don't care what world we're from.

[voluntaryapnea]

[He looks away at the apology combined with the earnest use of the term brother, the stirring of something long buried in his mind prickling at his skin now. He digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand before turning his attention back to Scott.]

It's fine. Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault. It was hers. [And Jennifer is dead now. He saw to that. The other deaths he'd caused had been out of blind rage, mostly. Resentment. But hers. He'd truly enjoyed it. Even now a sick smile touches his mouth as he thinks about killing her.]

She's dead now.

[semifreakingnormal]

[He feels sick.

Stiles has always been the first to make the suggestion, to joke - or not to joke - but the idea that without him, Stiles would actually...Scott swallows hard.]

You killed her?

[voluntaryapnea]

She killed you. She deserved it.

[There's no remorse in his voice or in his expression. He doesn't feel it at all.]

She killed you, and our parents. Heather. Chris Argent. I wasn't going to let her get away with it.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Their parents too. God.]

No one deserves to die.

[He's quiet, though. Because he thinks, maybe, that would break him.

[voluntaryapnea]

Everyone dies, Scott. It's just a matter of the circumstances that bring it on.

[He's more affected than he'd like to be from Scott's quiet words and he looks away.]

[semifreakingnormal]

But you brought it on.

[He runs a hand over his face, because part of him sees Stiles look away and wants to comfort him - but he also wants his friend to feel it. Because if he can feel guilty, then maybe he isn't totally lost.]

Stiles...I wouldn't - I wouldn't want you to kill anyone, because of me.

[voluntaryapnea]

You're damn right I did. She would have kept killing. The whole alpha pack would have. But I stopped them.

[His eyes flash blue for just a second and his jaw tightens.]

You can't expect me to feel bad for offing people who got you killed. Because I don't. I won't.

[semifreakingnormal]

[He doesn't flinch away from the blue. It just breaks his heart a little to see.

Stiles, a killer? Because of him?]

There are better ways, man.

[voluntaryapnea]

[A sound escapes him that's somewhere between a huff of disbelief and a laugh.]

Like what? What better ways? What was I supposed to do?

[semifreakingnormal]

Helping other people. Protecting--

[He pauses, remembering what Allison said about the code being his, and he swallows hard. He's made it his, either way.]

Protecting those who can't protect themselves.

[voluntaryapnea]

I couldn't even protect you.

[The words are bitter.]

Or my dad.

I should have let Peter give me the bite ages ago. Everything could have been different.

[semifreakingnormal]

Everything could have been so much worse!

[He scrapes his hands over his face, warding off any dampness that might have infiltrated his eyes, and terror that might have sprung up.]

Peter was a monster! You can't have wanted that!

[voluntaryapnea]

Maybe. I guess we'll never know.

[The sight of Scott rubbing at his eyes like he's warding away tears intensifies all of the emotions he's been holding back for so long, and he draws in a shuddering breath, taking a step away from him.]

It would have made me stronger! I could have helped you!

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott jumps to his feet, following as Stiles walks away. There is no walking away, not between them.]

You helped me all the time! Dude, I'd be lost without you!

[voluntaryapnea]

[There never has been. Not willingly.]

But it didn't matter in the end. You still died, Scott!

[semifreakingnormal]

It wasn't your fault!

[He reaches out, hand on Stiles' shoulder so he can pull his friend back around to face him.]

Do you think I could ever blame you for that?

[voluntaryapnea]

[Stiles lets Scott turn him around, and his own eyes are damp when he faces him again.]

No. Because you're a good person!

[semifreakingnormal]

Dude, [he says, and stretches his hand to cup the back of Stiles' neck.]

Do you seriously think we'd be friends if you weren't?

[voluntaryapnea]

I might have been, once.

[His words are hollow.]

[semifreakingnormal]

I know you, Stiles. You still are.

[He's never been more certain of anything.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He drags in a ragged breath.]

You should go. Find your pack.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott teeters on the edge, and for a second it looks like his shoulders might cave, like he might hollow out and relent. Instead, he pulls Stiles into a tight hug.]

You should find yours.