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edupunkn00b · 9 months

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Ours, Ch. 3: Your New Seasons

Prev - Your New Seasons - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Roman meets Ire and learns more about the Hunters. WC: 2279 - Rated: G - CW: discussions of thrall and vampires, injection - A day late but here! Day 3 of @royalityweek, Flowers and Seasons -

The inky grey sky shifted to a thin, pale pink as they made their way downtown. Roman still held the Hunter’s hand, fingers comfortably locked together as Pathos matched his pace. He moved with a confident grace, not delicate and light on his feet like some a dancer or a cat. More like a big draft horse or a…

“Is it true?” Roman whispered, thumb still absently stroking the soft fur on the back of Pathos’ hand. It had receded somewhat, but was still thicker than most men’s. And impossible for Roman to ignore any longer, no matter how soothing it was to touch.

Pathos smiled gently as they walked, waiting for his question. The tiny twitches in his gaze as they crossed streets and passed alleyways, told Roman that, despite the attention he gave him, the Hunter was still vigilant for dangers.

Roman broke eye contact. “Are some Hunters really werewolves?”

“Hmmm…” Pathos hummed, low and gravelly, almost a growl. No—a rumble. When his old dog had pups she used to do that, a quiet sound at the back of her throat when her pups drank. Roman should be terrified but he found himself moving closer. “Werewolves are impervious to a vampire’s thrall,” he said instead of answering directly. “The first Hunters in the Carpethian Guild were all fully human…” He shook his head, sunny features drawn tight. “Dracula turned them into his pets and used them for his pleasure.” He met Roman’s eyes. “Dracula and his spawn.”

Ice crackled in his veins. “The one who turned my brother?”

Pathos nodded and squeezed his hand as they walked. “It’s safer this way, both for the Hunters and for the people we’re protecting from those monsters.”

“But aren’t—I—” Roman looked away, clamping his mouth shut. Are you about to call him a monster to his face?

Instead of showing anger, Pathos smiled and stopped. Clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own, he hummed thoughtfully. “The earliest Wolves in the Hunter’s Guild couldn’t control their transitions. It’s true. They required… handlers.”

His smile grew and he turned his hand, backside up. When Roman looked, the hair there grew thicker, right before his eyes. “We’ve developed new hybrids with infinitely more control. It takes a little practice, but…”

Pathos’ voice had changed, deeper, with a wet rasp to it. Roman forced his eyes up and shuddered. The Hunter’s face had changed, his blond curls spreading down his forehead and along his cheekbones and over his neck. Soft fur tufted up at his collar and Roman swore he was taller, his overcoat tighter at the shoulders.

Sharp teeth glistened in his mouth, grown in both size and number. In fact his entire jaw had elongated. Not entirely wolfish. But not entirely human, either.

But his eyes… his eyes had kept their soft blue shimmer. And he smiled down at Roman. “I am a better Hunter this way. A better protector,” he murmured. The Hunter’s low, rumbly voice melted away the fear growing in Roman’s chest. “Can you trust me like this?”

“Yes,” Roman said immediately, surprising himself. “I—I don’t know how, but…” He took a deep breath, watching Pathos’ eyes soften even further. It was then he realized the Hunter had been afraid. Afraid he’d lost his trust? Roman smiled. “Yes, I trust you.” Pathos nodded and, still smiling, shifted back. Not all the way, but enough that his teeth were left looking mostly human, and his claws retracted, leaving blunt, plain nails. Roman played at the edges of his fuzzy hand.

“You have good instincts. I pledged to protect you, Roman, and I meant it. Wolves are fierce fighters. We are also fiercely loyal.” He turned and they resumed their walk. “Just as you were loyal to your brother.”

Pathos’ use of the past tense sat heavy in his stomach, but Roman nodded. “I can’t let that bloodsucker hurt anyone else. I won't.”

“Neither will I.”

They walked in near silence for several more blocks. Roman’s feet grew heavier with each step, his brother’s steel-toed Docs dragging against the dirty concrete sidewalk. Re would kill him for borrowing them without asking. Each night Roman had laced them up it was a silent plea to the universe that he’d find him so his brother could chew him out for scuffing the edges of his favorite boots.

He shivered, his own mental mental image of his brother chewing him was suddenly way too… real.

“We’re nearly there, Roman,” Pathos said as he drew closer. He squeezed his hand, not-so subtly checking his nail beds and flashing a pointed look at his eyes. “Do you see the brownstone up there by the dogwood trees?”

The corners of Pathos' lips quirked and Roman tilted his head as he looked back at the Hunter. “Dogwood?”

Pathos grinned, his entire face blooming with joy. “Mm-hm,” he hummed, laughter buzzing just beneath his words. “Fitting for our headquarters, don’t you think?”

It was probably little more than delirium, but a laugh bubbled up from Roman’s chest and he shook his head. “I figured puns like that would make you barking mad.”

Armed to the teeth—and with the inch-long canines to prove it—Pathos grinned impossibly wide, a delighted giggle bursting out from his dangerous looking mouth. “Oh, I’m never one to raise my hackles at a good pun!”

“I am,” a low voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Roman’s head jerked up. A tall man with long, bright carrot-colored hair plaited down the center of his back glared at him.

Pathos stepped closer, one hand sliding up to Roman’s shoulder. “Ire, I’d like you to meet my new friend.” He raised both eyebrows at him and Roman suddenly recalled Pathos’ promise to protect his name.

Nodding to Ire, he smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Roman.”

Ire looked unimpressed. “You said you were hunting the spawn, not picking up some random human.”

“Now, Kiddo, be nice.” Pathos led him up the stairs as though the 6 foot… 6? 7 inch tall man was a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “The new spawn was Roman’s brother.”

Embers smoldered in Roman’s gut and he forced his jaw to unclench, hoping to hide the rage simmering just within his control. Ire still caught it.

“This is not a social call, then?”

Pathos shook his head and Ire looked between them for a long moment before suddenly smiling at Roman, canines poking into his bottom lip. He offered his hand and hummed in approval when Roman gripped it with equal fervor. “Welcome, then.”

While Ire had been gruff, even angry out on the porch, he softened once the door closed, drawing Pathos close and rubbing the side of his head against him. “I’m relieved you’re home safe, Pat,” he murmured, nearly too quiet for Roman to hear.

Pathos made that same little rumble, touching Ire back. Afraid of intruding in their intimate moment, Roman looked away, eyes tracing the little vestibule where they stood. A small wooden shoe rack sat in the corner and Roman crouched to unlace his—Remus’—boots and set them side by side on the rack.

“Thank you, Roman,” Ire said, dark brown, almost black eyes trained on him. He frowned then, and Roman stiffened, the disappointment in Ire’s eyes sending an almost physical ache through his bones.

Pathos inhaled deeply next to him and, like he had outside the bloodsuckers’ den, Roman had the sense the Hunter was… smelling him. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he murmured after a moment and reached for his hand. “Well, not to us.”

Roman felt foolish but he was too tired to keep up a confident front. He simply looked to each of them and waited for these new… friends? Teachers? The sparks zinging across his skin each time Pathos touched him fit neither of those roles.

The two Hunters exchanged a look, elastic expressions holding an entire conversation without words. In the end, Pathos smiled and nodded, then turned to Roman. “Would you join us for some tea and something light to eat?” He glanced again at Ire, then added. “You have some decisions to make and…”

“What…” Roman shrank back, regretting his now bare feet. And the way Ire and Pathos stood between him and the front door. “What kind of decisions?”

Ire smiled and bowed his head. “If you’ll excuse me. This might be an easier conversation one-on-one.” Pathos nodded and moved to Roman’s side as Ire stepped down the hall. As though they'd heard his thoughts, both Hunters had spread out, leaving him a clear path to the exit. Ire waved. “I’ll be back with the tea.”

“Let’s go sit down in the den.” Pathos took his hand, the barest hint of his wolfish fur sprinkled over his knuckles and spilling up the back of his hand to his arm. Stroking his thumb over Pathos’ fuzzy skin, Roman realized he missed it.

Since when was he comfortable with werewolves?

Apparently, ever since he found out a bloodsucker murdered his brother.

Pathos led him to a dim, comfortably warm room at other end of the hall. An old grandfather clock, the real old fashioned kind with weights and a pendulum, ticked steadily in the corner, and an electric fountain bubbled at the opposite wall. The sun had risen during their walk and golden light filtered through the gossamer curtains adorning the big, floor-to-ceiling picture window.

The centerpiece of the room, though, was a giant circle of brightly colored pillows and cushions and blankets. A few small tables were scattered around, some with roses and wildflowers, others with coasters, ready to hold a drink. Pathos sat down near the middle of the cushions and tugged gently on his hand, helping him settle on a soft pile of pillows next to him.

Roman sank down into the fluff, a low sigh escaping his lips. The fatigue he’d been pushing away since he’d gotten Re’s message pulled him down to the floor and it took a moment for him to notice the blanket Pathos draped over his shoulders. And that lovely quiet rumble from the back of his throat.

But he couldn’t relax completely. He squeezed Pathos’ hand and met his eyes. “You said I hadn’t done anything wrong to you or to Ire…” The Hunter nodded, still smiling. “Who did I wrong? Re?”

“Oh, Roman, no…” His face fell and he scooted closer, arms wrapped around him. “No, you’ve wronged yourself. You look exhausted… and…” A hint of a smile tugged up one corner of his mouth as he tapped his ear. “Even without the fur, I’ve got the wolves’ senses. I’ve been listening to your stomach growl for the past hour or so.”

“Oh,” Roman said, looking down at his hands. He’d assumed his decision would be about what amends he would make to whomever he’d wronged. “So what do I need to decide?”

“If you really want to join us,” Pathos said immediately. “Now that you know…”

Roman traced lines over the back of Pathos’ hand. “Ire is a werewolf, too, isn’t he?”

“All Hunters are now.”

“So… H—how does it work?” Roman squirmed in his seat, fear dueling with the insistence that Pathos would protect him even from himself. “Do you… bite… me?”

“Roman, of course not!” Pathos almost laughed. He reached for Roman’s face, shaking his head gently. “No, no we are not the animals the bloodsuckers are. No… a long time ago, that was the only way. We’ve made advances since then. You get an injection. It…” He swallowed but kept his gaze. “It is painful for the first couple of days,” he admitted. “But that’s why you have your pack to care for you.”

“My pack?” Re had been the closest thing he had to a pack. And now he was gone. “I…" Roman's throat closed and he pushed out the rest of his words. "I don’t have one.”

“Of course you do,” Pathos smiled and rubbed the side of his head against his temple. “Ire and I are your pack now. If you want us.”

“You don’t have to decide immediately,” Ire said from the doorway. “We’ll have some time before…” He drew closer and handed each of them a tea. It was hot and sweet and eased the buzzing in Roman’s head.

Pathos nodded. “It's still a few days the new spawn will need to feed.”

Ire sipped his own cup. “Unless V finally puts his pet out of its misery and lets his spawn drain it.”

“Pet?” Roman asked. He was now leaning against Pathos’ shoulder, but the Hunter didn’t seem to mind. And frankly, he was too tired to sit up on his own. “You said that before about the… the humans at the bar.”

Pathos opened his mouth, but then closed it, sharp teeth digging into his lip. Ire answered instead. “The bloodsuckers need it to survive. But… when they leave enough in their victims that they’re still alive a feeding, well… a lot of people get addicted. Not just from the thrall, but the feeding itself.”

“And… V… the one who killed Re, he… he keeps one of these humans around?”

“For years,” Pathos’ lips curled in disgust. “And if… when we finally stake V, his pet will be released from his hold. V will be vulnerable after spawning.”

Ire nodded. “And his attention will be split. That’s when we’ll strike.”

“I want to help,” Roman sat up straighter. “Please?” He met each of their eyes, shoving down his fatigue, his grief, his weakness. He could be strong, he could help them. Pathos smiled, excited. Proud, even. Ire… Ire was harder to read, but he slid closer and rubbed their heads together with a tiny rumble.

“I’ll get the serum.”

Minutes later, Roman’s sleeve was pushed up and he lay curled in Pathos’ lap in the center of the den. “Are you ready?” he whispered in Roman’s ear.

“I’m ready,” he said aloud. He hardly noticed the prick of the needle, but the serum burned as it spread through his veins. He shuddered, fingers tangling in Pathos' sleeves.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Pathos murmured. Roman realized he'd begun to whine. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Cold followed the burn and Roman’s eyelids grew heavy. “It’s not so bad now,” he mumbled.

Pathos tightened the blankets around him and settled him close to his chest. Eyes closed, Roman felt Pathos reach for Ire’s hand. “We’ll be right here with you through it all, little pup,” Ire murmured.

Then the room went black.

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harringtonstilinski · 2 years

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You’ll Always Be My Hero - Chapter 63 ; Dreamcatchers

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas (OC) Word Count: 5,297 Warnings: lil fluff, angst, mentions of blood, theo, tracy and everything that happens to her, A/N: Hi, friends! After three weeks of no new chapter, I happily give you CHAPTER 63! If you’ve seen my latest post, you’ll know that we’re officially on baby watch... and my whole house came down with some sort of sinus issue. But we’re all either fully better or at the tail end of it! The next two weeks (or two chapters) will come on time (if i can get my shit together, lol), but after Thanksgiving, I’m going to be going on a little break from posting ‘cause we should have baby boy by then. If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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I watched with a smirk on my face as Sheriff was buttoning the last two buttons on his shirt. This night couldn't have come fast enough for him. I was so happy! After I walked up to him, I helped him tie his tie, even though he protested, and helped slip his blazer on. I handed him a mirror to let him examine all the hard work I put into helping him.

“Oh, I should've gotten a haircut,” he said, messing with his hair.

“Noah!” I whined. “I just spent, like, five minutes on that!” “Well, you know someone your age should be happy you still have hair to cut,” Stiles said, shrugging at his dad. His hair was looking a bit messier and I was loving it.

“I think you look great,” Scott said.

“Not great. Handsome,” I said.

“Well, thank you, son I should've had,” Sheriff said, looking dead at Scott.

I scoffed. “What about me?!”

“You're my goddaughter,” Sheriff said. “Automatically makes you the daughter I've always wanted.”

I smirked again and shook my head a few times. I finally looked at Stiles for what felt like the first time in a few hours. He had a look of offense on his face.

“Don't worry,” I said, looping my arm around his. “He still loves you.”

“Thanks, babe,” Stiles whispered.

“Oh, what the hell am I doing?” Sheriff said, undoing his tie. “This is a terrible idea.”

“What, Dad... Dad, it's one date, okay?” Stiles said, tightening Sheriff's tie back up.

“The town of Beacon Hills won't implode while you're out with one woman,” I said.

“Or man.”

“It's a woman, Stiles,” Sheriff and I said.

“Okay.”

“A very beautiful woman,” Sheriff smiled.

I squealed, causing the males in the room to look my way. I looked at each of them before looking towards the door at the sound of it opening. I locked eyes with my dad, as well, before looking back at Sheriff. “I'm just excited, okay?! Geez. Can't a girl be happy that her godfather is going on a double with her own father and mother, plus his date? Geez,” I said, crossing my arms at the end.

“What beautiful woman, by the way?” Stiles asked, looking between Scott, me and our fathers.

“None of your business,” Sheriff replied.

“Either of you,” Dad said.

Us teens looked at each other. Scott's face held nothing but amusement, while Stiles' held a questioning look, and mine-- well, let's just say that I was thinking of other things. Like, watching Back to the Future Parts 2 &3.

“I wanna know,” Stiles said.

“Stilinski! Thomas!” we all heard a voice yell.

We looked towards the door as the voice yelled out again. “Stilinski! Thomas!”

We all walked out of Sheriff's office, me in between Stiles and Scott. Freaking Donovan. Stiles, Scott and I stood behind Sheriff and Dad. I laced my fingers on my left hand with Stiles' right, wrapping my right hand around his upper arm.

“I'm gonna kill you. Both of you!” Donovan spat at Sheriff and Dad.

“Donovan, if you think that shocks me, remember it was well-documented in your Anger Expression Inventory,” Sheriff said.

“Deputies, escort the prisoner out,” Dad said.

“I'm not angry like I'm gonna throw a brick through your window,” Donovan said. “I'm angry, like I'm gonna find you, I'm gonna get a knife and I'm gonna stab you with it until you're dead. And when you look at me and you ask me why, remember right now. Because this is why. Then, I'm gonna go to Emma's house and do the same over there to the Deputy here.”

“Good choice of words there. Especially, right in front of your lawyer and someone who wants to be a lawyer,” I sassed. Thank God he didn't know that mine and Stiles' houses were across the street from each other.

“Wow, that was awesome,” Stiles said.

“Stiles, please no,” I whispered, placing my forehead against his arm.

“That was awesome. That was great. Could we do one more? Give us another one, maybe like Christopher Walken this time, you know.” Nothing but silence.

“Okay, you know what? It's fine,” Stiles continued. “You'll have plenty of time to work on it when you're in your tiny, little cell, ya’know. Just stuck there, forever.”

Sheriff turned around and leveled him with a look that told him to shut it.

Donovan smiled and moved his head around like he agreed before scaring the shit out of me and trying to lunge forward at us, but thankfully Scott moved in front of us.

“Get him out of here!” Sheriff demanded.

Parrish and Clark took him out of the building, his lawyer following behind.

“What the hell's an Anger Expression Inventory?” Scott asked.

“It's a test you take when you're applying to become a deputy,” Stiles answered.

Scott looked from Stiles to where Donovan had been standing. “That guy wanted to be a cop?”

Stiles nodded and lifted his brows quickly. “At least now he's getting the full law enforcement experience.”

The boys and I walked to the Jeep after I said goodbye to my dad, getting in our seats. Stiles tried starting the Jeep again, engine still not turning over.

“Oh,” Stiles groaned. He tried starting it again, but to no avail.

I looked back at Scott then over to Stiles, who looked between us before sighing.

“It's anxiety,” he said.

I looked at him, confused, while he was quiet for a second. Time to play dumb, Scotty!

“What is?” Scott asked.

There we go!

“The chemosignals?” Stiles said. “Oh, I'm well aware of how you all monitor my emotional state. Yeah.”

“I don't,” I said.

“Not helping.” He tried turning the engine over again, but Roscoe was being more stubborn than a teenage girl not knowing what she was in the mood for food wise. Well, I guess that's every girl.

Stiles hit the side of his fist on the steering wheel with his right hand. I swear this boy was gonna break his hand one day.

“Babe, calm down,” I said, reaching over and grabbing his hand in mine.

“You okay?” Scott asked.

Stiles looked at me then out of the front window, sighing. “Alright,” he said, pulling his hand out of mine and grabbing his phone, messing with it for a few seconds. “I got this from Braeden a few hours ago.” He handed his phone to Scott, who looked at it for a moment.

“That's the first real bit of information we've gotten on the Desert Wolf in months,” Stiles said.

“The Desert Wolf did this?” Scott asked.

This strange feeling came over me, my eyes shining Green.

“Yeah. And I'm the one who's been pulling on this thread. Em's not too fond of it.”

“Maybe you should stop,” Scott said.

“No, it's not up to me,” Stiles said. He started the engine, it finally turning over.

“Babe. Drive. Now,” I said.

“Why?”

I looked over at him, eyes still shining. “You tell me.”

That got him jumping into gear. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up. “Where are we going?”

“The school. I forgot something in my locker,” I said.

A few seconds went by before either boy spoke up.

“Emma, we're actually heading downtown,” Scott said.

I looked around me to see that we were, indeed, heading downtown. “What?”

“If we want to go to the school, we should do a U-turn. Shouldn't we?”

“No,” I said. I looked back at Scott, realizing I hadn't shown him my eyes, his own widening. I looked back forward. “Keep going.”

“You sure?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” I said. I looked around, slightly, not really moving my head. “We're almost there.”

Stiles took the directions as I gave them to him, stopping under an overpass. The three of us got out of the Jeep and walked through the two little gate barriers that were set up. Lydia, Kira and Malia were here, talking to my dad. We watched as a man on a stretcher went by.

“Kids,” Sheriff said. We walked over to him. “Scott, you saw this kid, Donovan. He... he wasn't like you, right?”

Scott looked over at me and Stiles for a second before looking back at Sheriff. “I don't think so.”

“Unless he knows how to hide his scent,” Stiles said, reaching over and grabbing my hand.

“Well, human or otherwise, this kid might have just murdered his lawyer and mortally wounded two officers,” Sheriff said. “We've got an APB out on him, but you think you can find him faster?”

“I can try,” Scott said, nodding slightly.

“Alright. Keep it on Channel Two,” Sheriff said, handing Scott a walkie-talkie.

Scott turned and ran the way we came, walkie in hand, Stiles and I turning to watch him.

“Dad, what if it wasn't Donovan?” Stiles asked.

Dad walked over to us, placing his hand on my back. I turned and gave him a hug, a sigh of relief coming from both of us.

“I'm guessing you've already got a theory?” Sheriff asked.

Dad and I pulled back from the hug as he mumbled, “I've gotta hear this.”

“Be nice,” I said.

Stiles looked at me, thanks written all over his face. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Care to enlighten the rest of the class?” I sassed.

“Scott, is that you?” Parrish asked through the radio on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I found Donovan. He's completely freaked out. He keeps saying some name.”

“What name?” Sheriff asked.

Stiles looked at me and whispered, “Theo.”

“Tracy. He keeps saying Tracy,” Scott said.

“Tracy who?” Sheriff asked.

“Stewart,” Lydia said. “Tracy Stewart.”

~~~

Next day at school, we were all standing around the Jeep. And when I say we, I mean; Stiles, myself, Scott, Kira, Malia, Lydia, and Liam.

“Tracy wasn't just having trouble sleeping,” Lydia said. “It was a real disorder.”

“It was night terrors,” I added, looping my arm around Stiles'.

“Well, now she's the night terror,” Stiles said. “Especially since no one can find her.”

“Okay, I know we're all tired and miserable...” Scott said.

Oh, and Mason was here, too. Liam finally told him he's a werewolf... well, more like shown all in one. So, we all looked to Mason, seeing that he had the most excited face out of all of us.

“Except for you,” Scott continued, looking at Mason.

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Mason said. “This is all just mind-blowing.”

I looked up at Stiles, beaming at him.

He looked down at me with questioning eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, slightly shaking my head. “He reminds me of you when Scott first got bit. How excited you were.”

“You were, too.”

“I was scared shitless, but I eventually got over it.”

“Guys,” Scott said. “We can talk about who's more excited later.”

“Sorry,” Stiles and I said.

Mason went on like nothing happened, getting right back to his point. He gestured to Kira, stating, “You're a kitsune. I don't even know what that is.”

“I'm still learning,” Kira said.

“Liam, we said you could tell him. Not invite him to the inner circle,” Stiles said.

“Uh-- I'm in the inner circle?” Mason asked.

“No,” Stiles and Liam said in unison.

“Y'all. Look, back to Tracy,” I said. I got weird looks from everyone. I never say y'all but apparently the southern side of me was wanting to come out and play for a moment.

Scott shook his head quickly, like he couldn't believe that just happened. “She's just one lone wolf. We can find her.”

“One lone serial-killing wolf,” Malia said.

“Uh, she only killed one person, ya'know,” I said.

“The other two were mauled,” Stiles helpfully added. “What do we do when we catch her?”

“I say we put her down,” Malia said.

Aaaaand here's where my problem with Malia comes back. Always wanting to kill someone.

Mason looked around and nodded his head a little before saying, “Intense.”

Stiles and I looked at him, almost like he was crazy. I chuckled and shook my head.

“Guys, let's concentrate on catching her first,” Scott said. “We'll figure out the rest later.”

“We can worry about how to catch her and what to do with her after school,” I said.

~~~

Stiles and I pulled Malia aside before we went to class. He handed her his phone, showing her the picture that Scott and I looked at last night. Stiles had shown me when we got home.

“Now, I wanted to show you first, but considering my lack of self-control... ya'know,” Stiles said.

“My mother did this?” Malia asked.

“Yeah. Yeah. Braeden said these guys were bad. Ya’know, really bad.”

“So they deserved it?”

Stiles lightly tilted his head back and forth before stating, “Yeah, I'm not sure anyone deserves that, per se.”

Malia just looked at Stiles' phone for a few seconds. “I guess we know one thing now.” She looked up at Stiles. “She's good at her job.”

In the photo were 5 men surrounded by chairs, claw marks on their chests, backs, sides, legs. It was truly terrifying.

The bell ringing caused me to jump just a little. “Alright, well, I gotta get to class,” I said. I turned to face Stiles. “I'll see you later.”

“Yeah,” he said. As I leaned on my toes he ducked his head down, meeting me in the middle for a quick kiss goodbye. I walked down the stairs we were standing next to and rushed off to Bio. Once I got there, I sat down next to Lydia, waiting for class to begin.

Mrs. Finch handed back our tests as soon as the last bell rang. She stopped at Scott for a split second. “Nice to see where your priorities are, Scott.”

I looked over as best I could to see what his grade was. 86. Guess our study session really paid off.

“Since you have such a good grasp of the subject, how about you lead us in a review of last night's reading,” Mrs. Finch said.

“Oh, no,” I whispered to my papers. If this was anything like when Coach did this the day we found out Allison was Scott's anchor, we're gonna have a big problem.

“Uh-- sure,” he said. He started flipping through his book when I sat up a little straighter. I looked out the door and saw Liam standing there, waving trying to get Scott's attention. It worked because Scott looked over at Liam.

“Uhm, Mrs. Finch, may I be excused?” I asked.

“And where would you like to be excused, Emma?” she asked.

“The bathroom. Girl problems.”

“Take a pass and hurry back,” she said, turning back to Scott. “Scott, last night's reading.”

I got up quickly and grabbed a bathroom pass, heading out the door and standing behind Liam. I didn't want any of the other students to know I wasn't actually going to the bathroom.

“What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in class,” I whispered.

“Shhh. Just listen,” he whispered. He looked back to Scott, who was called on by Mrs. Finch.

“Sorry, just looking for the page,” he answered.

“Tell him to point to his ear,” Liam whispered.

I poked my head in enough that Scott could see me. I pointed to my ear, signaling for him to do the same. He finally got the hint, pretending to scratch his ear.

Liam ducked behind the door, standing right next to me. “She's here,” he whispered. “She's in History class right now. Tracy. She's here.”

“Shit,” I whispered. I looked around and saw a fire alarm. Pulling a Stiles from when William Barrow was here, I ran over to it and pulled it down, though I didn't keep my fingers on it for an insane amount of time.

I walked back to the classroom, putting the pass back and grabbing my stuff. I went back out of the classroom with Scott, rushing to Mr. Yukimura's class with him and Liam. We walked in as everyone else was leaving, Mr. Yukimura standing at the board.

Tracy was sitting in the back row, head down, but her eyes were looking forward. Hayden, a girl I used to babysit, was trying to get her to leave the room. Tracy reached forward and grabbed Hayden's wrist, squeezing it hard, causing Hayden to gasp out in pain.

Scott, Liam and I started walking forward.

“Tracy,” Scott said. “Tracy.”

She looked up at us, almost scared and started breathing heavily. She stood up, still having that grip on Hayden's arm.

“Tracy,” I said, calmly. She was gripping Hayden so tight, that either her claws were drawing blood or her grip was just that tight. “Tracy, let go. Tracy.”

“Hey, you're hurting me,” Hayden said, voice breaking. I could tell she was about to start crying from the pain.

“Tracy, let go,” I said, moving to stand in front of Scott.

“They're coming,” Tracy said. She let go of Hayden's arm. “They're coming for all of us.” She then fell forward onto the ground, silver stuff pouring out of her mouth. It seemed like she was in a trance.

Scott picked her up bridal style and rushed out of the room, Mr. Yukimura, Liam and I right behind him.

Stiles and Malia came rushing down the hallway, relief flooding his face. Liam stayed at the classroom door while the rest of us rushed over to the door, heading outside.

I texted Kira and Lydia, telling them that we're gonna take Tracy to the Animal Clinic, to get Deaton's opinion.

Once we got to the Clinic, Scott and Stiles set Tracy down on the table in the middle of the room. They backed up from the table, Stiles coming to put his arm around my shoulders.

Deaton got to work right away, taking his flashlight meant for eyes and shining it in her eyes. “Pupils dilate under normal conditions.”

Tracy started breathing heavily in her sleep... or so that's what I'm calling it.

Deaton placed two fingers at the pulse point on her neck, checking his watch. “Heart rate is 250.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt down a couple of inches, exposing the junction where her neck and shoulder meet. “Evidence of an allogeneic skin graft on the right shoulder. Now, this silvery substance at her lips is not something I've seen. It almost looks like mercury.”

“Didn't I tell you guys that on the way over here?” I asked.

Tracy's body started doing weird things, causing all of us to step back a moment.

“Uh--” Stiles said.

“Can you just give her a shot of something?” Malia asked.

“Oh, Malia, no,” I muttered.

“She doesn't look to be in any pain,” Deaton said.

“I meant a shot to kill her,” Malia said.

“Jesus, Malia. We can't kill everyone,” I said, exasperatedly.

Stile gave her the same look that I had said with my words.

“I generally prescribe to a code of ethics that frowns on such measures,” Deaton said.

“In other words, hell no!” I said.

“Malia, you know we're not gonna do that,” Scott said.

“How do you know she's not going to kill us?” she asked.

“She makes a decent point,” Stiles said. “Either way, eventually we're gonna have to let our dads know she's here.”

“Agreed,” Deaton said. “And while I may argue against euthanasia, I'm not opposed to a little--” he reached over and grabbed a bottle of Mountain Ash that was conveniently placed next to him. “Extra security.” He unscrewed the cap and tossed the ash over towards the door, sealing the barrier.

I looked over at it, worried. Ya'know, since I'm part Were, part Banshee. I wondered if it would affect the Were part of me. I looked over at Stiles, seeing him eyeing it, too.

Deaton looked up at us then over at the barrier before looking back over at us and stating, “Don't worry, Stiles. Tracy won't be able to cross a line of Mountain Ash. She's not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, that's kind of what I'm afraid of,” he said. He put his arm around my waist, holding me tight.

“Well, you and I will be able to get out of here no problem. You two--” Deaton said, looking between Malia and Scott. “Not so much.”

“What about Emma?”

“I'm not sure about her,” he said, looking at me. “Go over there and place your hand out. If it shines blue and pushes you back, it'll be affecting the Were part of you. If not, your Banshee side comes through a lot more powerful than your Were side.”

I nodded and moved over to the barrier, taking a deep breath and releasing it. I put my hand out and slowly moved it towards the barrier. I was able to put my hand all the way through, no problem.

“Well, Doc, I say the Banshee is shining through quite pleasantly,” I sassed. I turned around, seeing everyone's questioning gaze. I sighed. “I can get through in case she goes on another 'wanting to murder' rampage.”

Malia looked like she didn't believe Deaton, so she did what I had just done, not being able to get her hand through. “Weird.”

“Scott, would you mind holding her down? I'm going to be trying a few more invasive tests,” Deaton said.

Scott held her arm down while Deaton got a small blade. At the look Scott gave Stiles, he held down her left arm as I came to stand next to him.

Deaton took the blade and dragged it along her arm. It sounded like he was just scraping glass. The blade ended up cracking. He held it up to look at it more closely.

“I think you're gonna need a bigger blade,” Stiles said.

I couldn't help the chuckle that came out at the look Deaton gave.

“Sorry,” I said, quietly.

~~~

Tracy was still out of it hours later... well, more like two hours. But still! Homegirl's been out for a while.

I was standing in my same spot when Deaton moved Tracy's head to the side, getting a better look at her neck. I saw something moving and it reminded me of The Mummy.

“Please tell me those are killer beetles in her neck,” I whined.

“Now, this is interesting,” Deaton said.

Stiles tapped me on the arm, nodding his head towards Scott. We walked over to him.

“Scotty, what's up?” I said.

He was looking at his phone. “It's my mom. It's about the driver of the prison transport. She's saying he's awake and talking.”

“Malia, help me turn her over, please,” Deaton said, grabbing my attention for a split second. Deciding that it probably wasn't important for the moment, I turned back to Scott and Stiles.

Scott's phone vibrated again, causing him to look at it. “Driver didn't have a stroke or heart attack,” he read. “Says it was more like his body just locked up--”

“Like he was paralyzed,” I sighed. It only took me two seconds to realize what she was.

The boys looked at me like they were trying to piece it together.

“I know exactly what she is,” I said.

“Do you care to enlighten the rest of us?” Deaton said. “Because this doesn't look too good.”

We walked back over to the table, seeing Tracy stomach down, back exposed. What we saw was-- let's just say terrifying. It looked like her spine was moving. Deaton touched her back a couple times before it just split open, sending blood everywhere on Deaton, Scott and myself.

I looked back at her back. Yup. That was definitely her spine. Gross.

Her tail shot up, scratching Stiles on the upper right part of his chest, causing him to spin and land on the floor, stomach down. She ended up hitting Deaton next, then Malia and finally Scott as she got up from her position. She looked at me, noticing how I wasn't down on the ground like everyone else. She whipped her tail around, stabbing me on my right side.

I screamed out in pain and backed up. I still had energy to go around Stiles, then fell to the floor landing in front of him, body curved a little, holding my side. I groaned out in pain as I hit the floor.

I heard Scott land on the floor behind Stiles.

“It wasn't a werewolf,” Stiles said.

“Kanima,” I said through the pain.

~~~

I held my breath for a moment, trying to work through the pain.

“Em, can you feel anything?” Scott asked.

“Hurts like a bitch,” I groaned.

“I say she can,” Malia said. “How come you're not affected?”

“I normally am,” I said, groaning in pain again.

“What happened?” Deaton asked.

“She stabbed me with her tail. Malia was right. Should've given something to kill her.”

“Why aren't you affected?” Scott asked. “You're always affected. I mean, you passed Derek's test a while back.”

“I know, I know. I don't know why I'm not,” I said. I rolled over onto my back, crying out in pain. I couldn't hold back my tears anymore as I started to cry.

“Baby, don't talk or move,” Stiles said.

“I can smell blood,” Malia said.

“It's mine,” I said.

It was quiet for a moment before Stiles spoke up again. “Hey, Deaton, how the hell did she get through the Mountain Ash?”

“I don't know,” Deaton responded. “It's a barrier no supernatural creature should be able to cross.”

“Scott did it,” Stiles said.

“Once, but it almost killed me,” Scott said.

“We should've killed her,” Malia said. Basically saying what I said earlier.

“Meanwhile, she's probably on her way to killing someone else,” Stiles said.

“Listen, everyone, except for Emma. We need to concentrate,” Deaton said. “Scott and Malia, you two will probably be able to move long before Stiles and I can. But you need to focus.”

“Focus on what?” Malia asked.

“Healing,” Scott said.

“That's right,” I groaned.

“Emma--” Stiles started.

“I don't know how to tell my body to heal,” Malia freaked.

“Malia, calm down. It's okay--” Stiles said.

“I can't calm down. I can't move,” she said.

“It won't last long. We're going to be okay,” Scott said. “Doc, how do we focus?”

“Think of a body part,” I said.

“Emma--” Deaton said.

“Your hands, your feet, even just the tips of your fingers,” I said, pausing to groan in pain. “Imagine them moving. See it in your mind and your body will follow.”

I looked at Stiles, seeing he had two looks on his face; amazement and panic. It then turned into one of concentration.

The more I talked, the more blood rushed out of my body.

“How do you know all this information?” Deaton asked.

“She does her research,” Stiles said.

It was pretty quiet as the supernaturals that were affected were focusing on telling their bodies to heal... that is until Stiles spoke up.

“Okay,” he said. “I'm pretty sure I just felt my right leg move. Uh, yep, definitely felt it. Like a twinge, spasm, something.”

I tilted my head back as far as it could go, looking at his right leg.

Deaton, who had fallen at the right spot to be by Stiles' feet, looked at him, too. “I'm going to have to disagree. And I think I hold an informed opinion.”

“Malia?” Scott said.

“What? What's happening?” I asked.

“I don't think she cut me that deep,” Malia said.

“You would've... healed faster... if it wasn't... that deep,” I said, through labored breathing.

“Emma, I'm going to need you to stay quiet. The more you talk, the more you'll bleed out,” Deaton said, calmly.

I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Baby, open your eyes,” Stiles whispered to me.

“I'm tired,” I said, rolling my head to the side to look at him.

“Malia, keep going. Keep moving. Emma, keep your eyes open,” Deaton said. “We need you to stay awake.”

Malia's grunts and groans let me know that she was moving her limbs, telling her body to heal faster as she got up from her position.

“What's happening? I can't see,” Stiles said.

“She's moving,” I whispered. That's all that I could get out.

As Malia continued to move, I slid my arm across the floor, putting my fingers on Stiles' chin. “Hey,” I whispered. He looked at me. “If anything happens... just know that... I love you... more than words... can describe. You're my light... in this dark world... Stiles Stilinski.”

“Don't say that,” he replied. “I love you, too, but don't say those words. You're gonna be fine.”

I looked over his body as I saw Malia stand up from the ground, leaning on the table for support.

“Malia?” Stiles said. “Malia, wait for us.”

“There's no time,” she panted out. “Emma's dying and someone else could be, too, by the hands of Tracy.”

“Look, she's not a werewolf,” Stiles said.

“But she has a scent,” she said. “I can find her.”

“Malia,” Scott said. “Save her.”

I watched as Malia stepped over Scott's legs then Stiles'.

“Malia,” I said. She stopped at the door and turned to look down at me. “She's having... a night terror. You have to... wake her up. Don't kill her... just wake... her up.”

She nodded once at me then took off the same way Tracy did; through the back door.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, but the sound of Scott's hand hitting the table caused me to open them again. Theo stepped over mine and Stiles' body to help Scott stand.

“How did you find us?” Scott asked.

“Cause you work here,” Theo responded. “I heard about Tracy. I've been looking for you.” He turned around and helped Stiles up.

“We lost her and Malia,” Scott said.

“Right after... Tracy stabbed me... with her fucking tail,” I groaned out.

That apparently got Theo's attention because he was down at my side in a heartbeat. “We need to cut the blood circulation off.”

“Belt,” I whispered. “Your belt. Makeshift tourniquet.”

Theo sprang into action and wrapped his belt a little bit above my wound. “I gotta tie it off. It's gonna hurt.”

“Just do it,” I whispered.

He tightened his belt and tied it off, causing me to cry out in immense pain.

“Sorry.” He stood up and walked over to Deaton, helping him stand.

“This is Theo?” Deaton asked.

“One and the same,” I sassed.

“Let me help. I mean, I'm basically saving Emma's life right now, but it doesn't have to mean I'm part of the pack,” Theo said. “Or like you've accepted me or anything like that. It just means I can help catch this girl.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before anyone spoke up, so... I did.

“Scott, answer him, for Christ's sake,” I groaned. I rolled my head to look at him, seeing him already staring down at me.

“Call an ambulance for Emma,” Scott said.

Theo pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling for an ambulance for me and walking out of the room.

“Stiles,” I whispered. He moved as best he could to kneel next to me. “You have to call my dad. Or mom. I don't care which, but you have to call one of them for me.”

“No, I'm not leaving your side,” he said.

“As much... as I would love... to lay here... and argue with you... I need you... to do this… one thing for me. You need to... go check on Malia and Tracy. Be my hero.”

He shook his head, like he always did when I called him that. “I'm not a hero.”

“You'll always be my hero,” I said.

I don't remember what happened after that because I had passed out from the blood loss.

~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! what do think is gonna happen with emma? let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

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If you want to be added to the YABMH Taglist, just click here. If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know. Tumblr’s trying to tag people for me, lol.

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~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Emma and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis. Our home slice Emma was made up all by me. As well we her parents and their storyline throughout the series.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on November 13, 2021

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youremypride · 6 years

Text

The Truth About Love | Ch.4

☽ Have you ever love someone so much, you would do anything for them? Even disturbing the peace between the living and the afterlife? Love knows no boundaries but there is always a price to be paid. How much do you say? As much as your heart desires for your true love.

Pairing: AHS! Michael Langdon x Reader

Genre: romance, angst, violence

Warnings: foul language, death of a character(s)

Note: This week’s episode is honestly the best because I really got tired of the whole apocalypse thing going on and needed more backstory. Let’s just say episode 4 was really the starting of this season’s episode. I can’t wait for next week. I just wish the whole season just drops in one go like Netflix does.

Word Count: 3566 words

prev - next

My turn finally came for the interview with Langdon. I didn’t know what to expect but I didn’t expect a lot from it either. My fate was already sealed from the very moment I was born. With heavy steps, my feet came to a halt in front of the large timbered black doors. Using my knuckles, I knocked against the door as I wait for someone to answer it.

Soon enough, the doors parted from each other, revealing the man in the room. “Y/N. You’re here. I’ve been expecting you.”

He steps aside, giving me enough space to enter the office. The entire room was a catastrophe, the furniture was thrown in every direction, the candles had fallen from the holders. It was like a hurricane had hit and cleared anything in its path.

“I apologize for the mess,” He brings up the armchair back to its normal position before gesturing to sit. “Please, take a seat.” Whatever thing that happened before, clearly didn’t bother him too much considering how calm his voice was although he looked lowkey frantic.

“I take it something happened before I got here?” He only smiles before setting up the other armchair, taking a seat right next to me. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw Mallory leaving the room with an expression I’ve never seen before. Distress was etched on her face and it was like she was running away from something that terrified her.” Mallory was nice, when she wasn’t around Coco, acting like a lovesick dog following around her and obeying her orders. It’s a pity, it would’ve been nice to get along with her.

Langdon squints his eyes as he tilts his head to one side, “Terrified her, you say? Are you suggesting I did that to her?”

“I didn’t say it was you,” I admitted. “There’s something strange about her, and the others too.” I fluttered my eyes towards him, “You think so too, right?” I sent him a knowing look. No one understands what I know, except him. I could feel it in my bones.

“Curious aren’t you, little one? Haven’t you heard curiosity killed the cat?” Soft chuckles escaped from my lips, surprising him.

“You’ve mistaken curiosity for seeking, Mr. Langdon. Being curious will lead you nowhere. But if you seek, it will lead you somewhere. The one who seeks will gain something in return, be it good………or evil.”

He stands up to walk towards his desk, leaning his bottom on the edge of it, with arms crossed. “And what is it you wish to seek? Answers, purpose, knowledge…...love?”

“Acceptance.” I put it simply. He starts to frown. I guess my answer to his question was too vague for him to understand. “Acceptance? Is it from someone or something? The world perhaps. I’ve known quite a few people with cases like you. They don’t feel like they belong anywhere.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m seeking to find acceptance…...from myself. I know it’s complicated for you to understand. You would think it’s because I hate myself or that I’ve never showed love towards myself but it’s neither of them. From the time I was born, I always felt like something was pulling me back and that I was born too fast that my soul was incomplete.

I’ve been searching for that part of me that needed to be filled my whole life. One time I went to see a doctor to check if I had heart problems because chest pains kept arising. They told me they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. It got worse over the years. I just wanted it to stop hurting so much.

Until one day, I tried to kill myself. I told myself if I stab my heart with a knife, all the pain would go away.” My eyes were closed the entire time, trying to remember every detail of that moment. I felt cool air hit against my lips, and when I fluttered my eyes open, I saw blue eyes staring right back at me. I didn’t realise how badly I was shaking until I saw his hands resting on both sides of my arms. I wanted to just flicked away his hand, but somehow, I enjoyed the comfort he was giving me.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to continue,” I gripped his upper arm and shook my head, cutting him off, “I’m fine, I’ll continue.”

“It was like something dark came over me, feeding me with negative thoughts and lies about the good. When I turned 13, the heart pain subdued slowly. It still hurt but not like before. I started getting dreams. The dreams had the same people but at different times and places.” I explained to him.

“These dreams, these people you see. Could you describe them for me?” He asked.

“There were two of them. A man and a woman. I guess they were lovers. At first, all the dreams were happy and full of love. There were times where I felt like I was prying in on their intimate moments, moments I shouldn’t be looking at. Their smiles to each other was of love and longing, their embrace was warm and endearing. The kiss…...was filled with passion……...and lust. The love was real and it felt so genuine. The dream would end with them proclaiming their love for each other. And that’s when I wake up.” I left out the parts where they made love. It was too awkward for me to talk about it, seeing as there was a man in my presence.

“You said ‘at first’. What happened next?” He chimes. I went back to sit on the armchair, probably tired from bending his knees in front of me.

“They started turning into nightmares. Except it kept replaying the same one over and over again. They took away their lives by burning each other together. I had to suffer watching their bodies get burnt and slowly turn into corpses. The nightmares stopped after I kept myself busy with part-time jobs. Everything was fine until, you know what happened.” He didn’t seem convince about my last statement. He grabbed a file, presuming it was mine, flipping over pages until he stops on the one he was finding.

“All of what you’ve said has been completely true. You’ve had a total of six foster parents. You ran away from home and took shelter under the care of a 62 year old man name Daemon Jacobs, who runs a fortune telling and witchcraft bookstore on the corner of 16 Walnut St. You never went to school. You work for him at the bookstore in the morning till afternoon and you start your night shift at the diner place down a few blocks from the bookstore.

Also, you failed to mention that you’re not exactly who you say you are……your date of birth and your age doesn’t add up.” He slams the file close. “Does the others know how old you truly are?”

“I was 16 right before the missiles attacked Los Angeles 18 months ago. My birth certificate clearly state I was born on ‘3 March 2003’. I glared at him.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. I can tell that you’re lying. Just be honest. It’s only you and me here.” He grins at me. He’s right. It’s useless to hide it from him when he has all the information he needs about me.

“I was born on ‘6 June 2016’.” I admitted, only to have him smile at me as he turns around with his back facing me.

“Odd. You would be only 5 years old now after 18 months.” He paused, “You’re wondering why you aged way too fast than the others, am I right? I might have the answer to your question.”

I stood up and walked over to him. “And how do you know about this?”

He brings his fingers towards me, cupping my chin in between his thumb and index finger. “Because, we might have something in common, my flower.”

My flower? I could have sworn I panicked a bit after hearing it out loud from someone other than my dreams. I brushed it away and focused on the man in front of me. He thinks he knows everything about me just because my whole life was in that file. Clearly, he was messing with the wrong person.

“What makes you think we have something in common? Sure, you know everything about me with that information of yours, you know everything about me on the outside, but not on the inside. Information and facts can be altered and fabricated with lies by anyone…… but if you want the truth…….all you have to do is ask, isn’t that right……Michael?” I smirk at him. His confident smile turned to a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“I’ve been truthful to you all this time……but not you. I know the whole reason you did all of this wasn’t because of your goal of just building a new world. You needed to prove a point to the others that you are powerful than them. It is your destiny, to put it simply.

But, there’s something stopping you. I know you, Michael. Only I know that you have a weakness, and this ‘apocalypse’ you put everyone through will you be able to find it.” He doesn’t want to admit it. His facade is way too strong to break down. This isn’t the Michael he was fond very talking about or maybe all he need is a little push.

“And what is……my weakness?” He growls deeply. Judging from his voice, he’s beginning to see me as a threat. Oh honey, I’m not the one you should be threatened by, yet.

“Her.”

Ms. Venable had called everyone for an emergency meeting. The aura in the library was solemn and the smell of death was lingering in the air. She had announced something about having a party after the hardships we went through over the past few months, and apologizing for her harsh punishments she had implemented in The Outpost. She said that a celebration is in need, camaraderie, and that it was a gesture of goodwill. A Halloween soiree.

As if that would lighten up my mood. I’ve never been a big fan or parties. Why now? Is it because she had a change of heart after her time with Langdon or she’s planning something without everyone knowing? It has to be the latter. She’s never really subtle about it, and she’s always keeping secrets for her own benefit. You’re going to need a lot of persuading if you want me to attend it.

The rest had already rushed back to their rooms to get ready their costumes for the party. Wasting my time was part of my daily routine as I settled on to a new book, grabbing it off from the bookcase as I returned back to my room.

Along the way, I had stumbled into something hard. I didn’t look at where I was going because the book was way too interesting than looking up. Standing in front of me was none other than the devil himself.

I lowered my head, apologising before walking pass him.

“Don’t go.” He spoke, causing me to stop in my tracks. “The party, don’t attend it.”

“Why not?” I asked him casually. I turned around to face him, and so did he. “I believe we didn’t get to complete your interview before we were interrupted by dinner time. I wish to continue it.”

“Ms. Venable will be suspicious of me if I don’t attend it. She’ll know if one of us isn’t there.” I told him.

“Then leave the party when you think it is safe without anyone knowing. Meet me in my room. They won’t find you there.” He suggested, and vanishes off the corner of the hallway.

Everyone was swaying to the music, dancing with excitement and having a great time. A pleasant feeling bloomed inside of me but it faded away when I gazed upon the wooden tub that was filled with fresh apples and apparently the only refreshments they had. Michael had warned me about the party so why wasn’t anyone feeling different about it. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Without anyone looking, I made my move.

Finding Michael’s room, I entered when he permitted me to go in. His room looked the same like mine did. He was sitting at his desk, typing away in a working laptop as thick files piled on his desk.

“So, what is it that you wish to continue? I’ll be honest with you. The Sanctuary is the least of my concern. The last place I want to be before I’m dead is what you call as being ‘classified’’. Who knows you’re just trying to rope people in for the wrong kind of things.” I sat at the edge of his bed, looking at my nails with a bored expression.

“Tell me, Y/N. Do you believe in reincarnations?” He asked, his voice was soft and laced with curiosity.

“I used to, but I don’t think people’s interpretations of them are facts. People mostly believe a soul moves on into another physical form once their life is over before being reborn into a new life. Some claim they see memories of their previous life, thinking that it’s theirs but I don’t think that’s highly true. Our appearance might have changed but I believe a soul is only admitted to one lifetime only and when the time comes for their judgement, they’ll either go to Heaven or Hell.

Maybe people do get to see memories of their previous life, thinking that it’s theirs but to me, that person in that memory was simply just another person that lived with the same soul. They had their own life and their own future. This is my soul now and this is my lifetime. No one else’s but mine only.

‘Eram quod es, eris quod sum’. I was what you are, you will be what I am. And when my time comes, I will be the same as them. Six feet down in my eternal resting place.” He had a twinkle in his eyes as he listens to me speak. He had been observing the way I illiterate the meaning of the word the way I see it.

“Fascinating,” He claims. “And what about soulmates, do you believe in them too?”

“I do, to a certain extent. But not in the way other people see it as. They romanticised it far too much, thinking that there is someone out there, with their souls tied together with the red string of fate. The ones who associate them to a romantic partner are the ones who are desperate for love and I think those who claimed to find their soulmates are simply pathetic.

They never travelled the entire country to look for them. They only assume the person they just met and fell in love with is their soulmate, in the same country, city, town or neighbourhood. They didn’t venture out to look for their true pair.” I gazed down at the floor. “Soulmates are just empty hopes and dreams for those who couldn’t find love.”

“And how do you perceive soulmates as?” He questioned.

“I see them as the person who will always be honest and truthful, the one I can share all my dark secrets and fears with. A person I can be comfortable around and will treat me with the same respect I show them. A person who shares the same believes and goals as I do. A person who can accept me……as I am. Intimate or not.” He reaches out his hand and cups both my cheeks in his palms. He was cold to the touch, giving my skin a cooling sensation.

“Do you think these dreams you have, are memories that belong to the person you share your soul with in the previous life? That woman in your dreams. Do you think it’s your memories too?”

“It could be. But I never said anything about it being my memories. I could have conjured them up from watching too much television. And I didn’t say anything about being the woman in those dreams.”

“Was the woman wearing a white Victorian dress, with her soft long curls cascading down her back, reaching her bottom?

“Almost all women wore like that back then. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“She had green eyes, long curly eyelashes. Her cheeks were blushed a light pink, her lips as red as cherry. And she had a locket around her neck. It was gold in colour. There is also an engraving on it as well. ‘L+L’. Inside the locket holds a picture of the man and the woman.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“Because I have those dreams too. You don’t think that is a coincidence, right? I had them all along. It was the only thing that soothe me to sleep and I look forward to it. I don’t look like the type who could love or show love to others, but I do. And maybe what you are actually seeking is not acceptance from yourself and what you need is what I can give you.” He looks me in the eye.

I stared at him back with the same look as his. “And what do I need?”

He smiles. “Me.”

He grabs on to my arms, pulling me up to my feet. “Hide in the wardrobe. Quickly, now.” He opened the door for me as I stepped inside. “Whatever you do, do not make a noise.” I nodded.

The room grew silent before I heard Michael speak, “Ladies, I’m a little busy right now formulating my selections.”

“This won’t take long.” The voice sounded like Ms. Venable.

“What’s this?”

“We’re making the selections now, Mr. Langdon. And I’m afraid you didn’t make the cut.” It only made the long-haired male chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “I wanted to let you have your moment but I just couldn’t hold it in.”

“You think this is funny?” Ms. Venable snaps back calmly. “I think I’m impressed, Ms. Venable. I wasn’t sure you had it in you. You’ve passed the test. You’re perfect for The Sanctuary.”

“Ms. Mead.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Mr. Langdon proclaims. There was a short pause before Ms. Venable spoke again.

“Ms. Mead.” Her tone was stricter now.

All of a sudden, a loud gun shot could be heard. I covered my mouth to muffled my gasp.

“I don’t know why I did that. I was always loyal to her.” The tone was mixed with emotions of sadness and disbelief.

“It’s alright,” he comforts, “You were obeying commands, like you’re programmed to do. My commands.” Footsteps grew closer towards me direction.

“Did you enjoy executing the poison apples plan as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?” He questioned Ms. Mead.

“You wanted everyone dead?” She asked, her voice shaky.

“I’ve never been a fan of getting my hands dirty. Learned that from my father. Always more fun to entice men and women to dirty needs. Confirms what I’ve always believed.”

“W-what do you believe?” Ms. Mead stuttered.

From the gap between the wardrobe doors, I could see him step closer towards her, “That all people, if given the right pressures and stimulus, are real evil motherfuckers.”

Ms. Mead didn’t know how to reply him, it sounded like she was confused. “I-I am having trouble with this. I know I’m just a machine.”

“Never say that!” His voice was laced with anger, his expression soured. “You’re not just a machine, not to me.” For a second, it felt like he actually cared and had actual feelings.

“When I tasked The Cooperative’s R&D Department to have you constructed, I gave them a prototype to model.”

“Prototype?” Of who?

“Of someone from my childhood. Someone very dear to me.” A prototype? No way. Ms. Mead is a…..a robot?

“The beautiful boy.” She replies him. He smiles, his eyes started getting teary as he nods in agreement. “That was me. But I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind.”

“Why?” She questions.

“To protect you, and the plan. But now it’s time to remember it all. I lost you and I couldn’t bear it. I can’t imagine a new world without you by my side. The only woman who ever really understood me.”

“Who ever really loved you.” Slowly, Michael embraces her in his arms. The sight was truly a rare thing to see, seeing as Michael was always look so cold and arrogant. He releases her from his embrace before walking towards the wardrobe.

The doors flew open and he offers me a hand. I slipped mine into his and he helped me get out the small space.

“Y/N, you were in there all this time? What are you doing in Langdon’s room?” She asked me. Suddenly she panicked. “Oh no, I could have killed you too. I’m so sorry, Mr. Langdon. I didn’t know who she was.”

“Who I was? You know me?” How could she know me if I’ve never seen her before, unless? I gazed towards Michael. He only shows me a mischievous grin. “I may or may not have told her about you. After all, I was the one who told The Cooperative to rescue you.”

Taglist: @ meeeeeeeeeps, @ habblez-the-babblez, @ snookabooforever

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