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Hello there! Here's the sequel to Drumming Sounds, I'm sorry it took so long, I had a lot of trouble writing this and not enough time! I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it which is why I'm just going to send it to you privately for now, but I really hope you like it ( wipes brow, that was stressful). Tell me what you think, I hope I at least decently met your expectations!

***

She was in the Sheriff’s office and people were shouting.

They were arguing around her. They were pointing fingers, staring accusingly at the phone in her hand. Chaos. But their voices were shrinking, drowned out by an all too familiar buzzing that was growing louder and louder. A migraine that came with the beating of a heart that would soon stop, a low tug in her gut guiding her to some foreign place.

A scream flew and perched precariously in her throat.

“SHUT UP!” she shouted, and the room fell dead silent. Lydia looked around, taking a hurried breath before stammering as the pain in her head grew sharper. “We don’t have much time. He’s about to kill someone else. If we’re going to save them, we need to leave now.”

His father nodded. Wrinkles had thickened on his now ashen face, and he didn’t question her. The Sheriff merely walked over and opened the door, letting her leave the cramped space of his office. Werewolves and hunters followed behind, making their way into separate cars.

“What are we going to do if we find him?” she asked, turning to where Scott sat in the backseat.

“Improvise,” he replied, and looking into his brown eyes Lydia knew that he was just as lost and uncertain as she was.

Lydia led them down dark roads and soon they were at an old storage park outside town. The Banshee took a deep breath as she left the car, the heartbeat in her mind growing louder and louder with every step. She finally stopped right before a corner, motioning that whoever the victim was must be around the tall, iron storage container next to them. Chris Argent nodded and climbed the steel box, helping his daughter up when he reached the top.

Sheriff Stilinski pulled out his gun as the wolves around him morphed. “Stay behind me,” he whispered to Melissa. The nurse nodded, a first aid kit gripped tightly in her hand. He motioned to Scott, and with deep breaths, they rounded the corner.

The couple screamed.

“Sorry, sorry!” the Sheriff quickly showed his badge to the young teenagers. “We’re just scouting locations for a movie that’s going to be filmed here.”

The two girls smiled in response, breathing out in relief. “It’s ok, you just surprised us is all. Wicked make-up.”

Stilinski managed a false smile. “You two go home now, it’s not safe out here.”

They nodded, giving the strange party one last glance before walking away.

“Kira, will you follow them and make sure they get safely into their cars?” Scott asked. The kitsune nodded, making her way after them.

Once the girls were out of earshot, the Sheriff turned to Lydia. “Where is he?”

The Banshee shook her head. “He’s here, I know it. I just don’t know—“

“But I thought you knew!” Stilinski snapped. “We’re running out of—“

“Come on, dad…. no need to yell.”

Everyone froze, turning slowly as Stiles’s tall figure parted from the shadows. He watched them with mild amusement. The wolves growled. He only raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you brought your puppies with you. How quaint,” he said dryly.

“Get out of my son.”

He smiled. “ Do you really want me to? I mean…after Claudia….you could hardly manage yourself. If Stiles dies…” he shook his head.

“What you’re doing to him is worse than death,” Derek growled.

“But you’re not in here, are you? Stiles and I, we’re having so much…fun.”

There was a soft thud, and suddenly there was a dart sticking from Stiles’s neck. Everyone looked up in surprise, finding the two Argents on their stomachs, rifles pointed at the tall figure. Allison’s hand relaxed from the trigger.

But he didn’t move.

Stiles shook his head in disappointment, sighing. Slowly, he reached for his neck and pulled out the dart, letting it drop to the ground. Rolling his shoulders, he watched them with a stony gaze.

“You know, at first I was content to let you go. Stiles, he begs so….prettily. All tears and I’ll do….anythings, and so I haven’t bothered you. I even spared Lydia when she walked right into my grasp….but…now.” he cocked his head to the side, face impassive. “now I’m going to tear you all apart, limb from limb, and I’m going to make him watch. He’ll know the taste of your blood…the smell of your fear.”

Scott crouched low, eyes glowing red. “Not today.”

The shadow only grimaced, unimpressed with Scott’s heroic stance. Stilinski pulled back, bringing Lydia and Melissa with him as the werewolves began to approach the dark, marble silhouette. They circled the tall boy with careful ease, but he didn’t look at them. Instead his eyes were fixed on Lydia, unflinching.

“Prepare to scream, Banshee.” He whispered and slowly pulled the blood stained knife from his pocket, placing it against his neck.

The werewolves froze.

“Well,” voice soft “Aren’t you going to stop me?” When they said nothing he only smiled, rolling his neck as he narrowed his gaze on Scott. “Of course not. Because if you take one more step forward, I will cut his throat. It would kill me…yes. But it would kill him too. And seeing the look on your faces…it would make it worth it.” Stiles took a step forward, turning to look at the Sheriff, speaking with genuine curiosity. “Have you ever seen your son scream?”

The Sheriff swallowed, eyes locked on the knife pressing into his son’s pale neck. His mouth was dry and he didn’t reply.

Undeterred by Stilinski’s silence, the nigutsune continued. “I know you’ve seen him scream himself awake. That you’ve held Stiles as he breaks from the inside…but from the outside.” He dug the knife into the pale skin of his neck, blood trickling down and disappearing beneath the collar of Stiles’s shirt. With a growl, the wolves started forward before dark eyes held them at bay. The shadow turned its gaze back to the Sheriff, forming his next words with careful grace.” You see, I don’t feel it when his body hurts….but he does.”

With that the demon lowered the knife and drew a long gash across his stomach.

Stiles screamed. Everyone watched in shock as he fell to the ground, collapsing onto the dirt. Scott moved forward before his friend’s voice stopped him.

“No! Don’t,” Stiles cried out, voice shaking. “he’ll kill you. You can’t come closer…don’t come closer. Please.”

“Stiles—“

“No, Scott,” he breathed, sweat dripping from his brow.

“Please, Stiles. Let me help you.” the werewolf made his way forward, kneeling in front of his friend warily. It was quiet for a moment, the silence only broken by Stiles’s ragged breathing. Scott reached over carefully.

Suddenly Stiles stopped shaking. When he looked up, his eyes were dark. He tilted his head. “Bad move, Scotty.”

He took the knife in his hand and stabbed Scott in the stomach. Melissa screamed as her son stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with shock. The nigutsune lunged forward, hovering over Scott, hand still on the blade.

“Shall we give you and Stiles matching scars?” Slowly, his pale hand tugged the blade, pulling it sideways.

Derek lunged forward as Scott screamed, but slid to a stop as the nigutsune looked up. “If you take one step forward I’ll gut him.”

The other wolves watched in helpless terror as the shadow leaned closer to Scott, whispering softly in his ear.

“He’s not even screaming, Scotty. Your best friend is curled in a corner, head in his hands, sobbing and shaking. Trying to convince himself that this isn’t real. He’s just as helpless as your friends, your family. I have you….manacled” he breathed. “All of you. Because none of you can bear to hurt poor….defenseless… Stiles. “

Scott raised his gaze, staring into familiar unfamiliar eyes. “Stiles, this isn’t you. Fight it, fight him Stiles….”

“Sorry, Scotty,” the nigutsune laughed quietly. “Stiles isn’t here right now. Please leave a message.” With the last word he dug the knife even deeper, pulling a harsh shout from Scott.

BAM

Stiles was knocked to the side as a bullet punched through his shoulder. Everyone looked up in shock, seeing smoke rise lazily from a slender rifle. Chris Argent’s mouth was in a thin line, eyes cold.

Scott gasped, pulling himself up slowly. Derek leaped forward, helping his friend stand. Listing heavily on Derek’s tall form, Scott looked to where Stiles was beginning to stir on the ground. His knife lay a foot away.

“Stiles….” The alpha asked quietly before motioning for the twins to move forward.

Before they could reach him a shaking hand grasped the knife. They froze as Stiles struggled to his feet, looking up at them with bloodshot eyes. Trails of scarlet ran from his stomach, from his shoulder, dropping rubies on the dusty ground beneath his feet.

“Don’t…come…closer,” his breaths were ragged and his chest heaved. Slowly, Stiles took the knife and placed it against his chest.

“Stiles,” Scott repeated, taking a stuttering step forward, but Stiles only took a step back.

“I have him under control…” his lips trembled into a sad smile. “pain makes you human, remember? But…I don’t know for how long.”

“Ok, let us bind you.”

Stiles shook his head. “It won’t work, he’ll get away. He’s a fox…he’ll trick you.”

“But—“realization slowly dawned on Scott’s face. “Stiles… no.”

“I have to do this, Scott.” Stiles looked down at the knife in his shaking hand, positioning it above his heart.

The sheriff lunged forward, running towards his son as terror filled his eyes. Derek moved quickly from Scott’s side and grabbed him. “STILES!” Stilinski shouted, struggling against Derek’s iron hold.

Stiles looked up at his dad, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. “Please look away, dad. I don’t want you to have to see this---“

“Don’t do this, Stiles.” Scott begged, stumbling forward.

“I have to hurry, I can feel him Scott…he’s winning. I don’t have much longer.”

His friend took another step forward, now close enough to reach out and touch Stiles.

“Let us help you, please. This….doing this will kill us. It’ll kill me—“

“I know,” Stiles let out a ragged sob, taking a heaving breath as he tightened his grip around the knife. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, please, please. I don’t…don’t wanna die but I can’t….I’m scared. I’m so scared, Scott…”

“Stiles---“

“Don’t you see? This is…this is the only way I can make sure you’ll be alright. I’m just so tired,” he whispered. “I can’t fight this anymore, Scott. I’m just too tired. I’ve been drowning since Lydia pushed my head below water. And I’ve been closing my mouth, trying to keep it from coming in…..but I need to breathe.”

Scott shook his head, taking another step forward and reaching forward, wrapping his hand at the back of Stiles’s shaking neck, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together.

“We’ll figure this out, I promise. But you….Stiles you need to trust me. Please. Stiles….Stiles you’re my brother, remember?”

He looked down as Scott wrapped trembling fingers around his hands, around the hilt of the blade. Stiles raised his gaze, shining amber meeting shining brown.

“Help me do this, Scott….Please… just push it in—“

“No, Stiles.” Scott shook his head violently. “I’m not going to help you ki--…. you’re not going to die like this. This isn’t you. Stiles, this isn’t you. This is just another bad guy. Fighting him is hard, but we’ll stop him. Like we’ve stopped bad guys before him. If you do this, he wins. We’ll figure it out, just fight a little longer…hold your breath for just a little bit longer.”

He looked down and slid the knife from Stiles’s bloody hands, tossing it to the side (so reminiscent of what Stiles had done for him just months ago).

Reaching into his pocket, Scott pulled out a set of handcuffs and placed them around Stiles’s wrists, locking them before looking up.

“Scott—“ Stiles gasped before stumbling forward, his knees giving way.

The werewolf lifted his friend’s broken body and began to run. Suddenly, a car screeched into the open space, and Chris Argent leapt out.

“My car is fastest,” he said, opening the door.

Scott slid in, his mom sliding in beside him and the Sheriff taking the front seat. Before Stilinksi had even closed his door Chris had his foot on the gas and they jerked forward.

“Where to?” he shouted.

Glancing at his phone, Scott almost laughed in relief. “Deaton just told me to take him to the Nematon.”

“Scott, he needs a hospital.” Melissa pressed down on the bleeding bullet-wound, watching Stiles’s flickering eyelids with professionally contained terror.

“If we take him to the hospital, we’ll lose him. You saw what the nigutsune did to Barrow. No, we need to get it out of him now.”

Argent turned sharply off road, destroying the flawless black paintjob as he blew past bushes and ditches and trees, stopping only at a deep creek.

The group jumped out, Scott grabbing Stiles and beginning to sprint through the tall tree trunks. Behind him he could hear the honking of horns as the others arrived, heavy breaths as the others raced behind him. Stiles was trembling, his body heavy in Scott’s arms.

He broke into the clearing just as the moon rose to its highest peak. Scott didn’t question why Kira’s mom and dad stood there beside Deaton, only moved towards the ancient tree stump and lay his friend’s shaking body across the aged wood.

“What do I do?” Scott gasped, looking up at his mentor.

Deaton was grim as he quickly set to work binding Stiles’s hands and legs. “I need Lydia.”

The Banshee raced forward, tying her hair quickly into a messy bun.

Guiding her gently, the veterinarian led her to Stiles’s side. “You were his anchor before, and you need to be his anchor now.”

Lydia nodded, biting her bottom lip. She climbed hesitantly on the tree stump, sitting cross-legged and taking Stiles’s limp head in her lap. Brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead she tried to ignore the urge to scream.

“Don’t be fooled,” Deaton instructed as everyone circled around the tree. The Sheriff, Melissa, Scott, Ethan, Aiden, the Argents, Derek, Kira and her parents. “This may or may not be Stiles. We don’t know what face it will put on so whatever you do, whatever it says, you don’t unbind him. Is that clear?”

The glade was quiet.

Deaton pulled out a knife and muttered a quiet apology before ripping the front of Stiles’s shirt. Reaching down into his bag, he picked up a container of thick, green paste. He turned to Lydia.

“Ready?”

Lydia nodded, cradling Stiles’s face gently and trying to ignore the thickening pool of blood that stained the Nematon with every passing minute.

Leaning forward, Deaton began to draw three Japanese symbols down Stiles’s chest, trying to avoid the harsh gash that was still bleeding weakly on Stiles’s stomach.

Health.

Stiles’s skin sizzled where the paste met flesh and his screams echoed throughout dark forest, bouncing from tree tops and running down rivers.

Peace.

Lydia held him down as best she could as his body writhed against the wood, closed her eyes as he began to beg and demand and scream then beg again.

Balance.

Deaton muttered words, reading from an ancient scroll in a tongue foreign and unfamiliar, the lilting words dragging hoarse shouts, inflicting unseen wounds. It was only when the marks on his skin began to fade, turning to smoke and rising into the air that Stiles began to quiet, the three symbols leaving behind faint white scars.

Turning to the Kira’s mom, Deaton nodded. She pulled out a thin plastic sword and snapped it, watching as fireflies flew from the cracks beneath Stiles’s body. Shadows jigsawed a familiar form, darkness molding a mask that shone in the moonlight. Lydia tightened her hold on Stiles as the Oni approached, stiffening as it leaned down and placed a hand behind his ear.

With a gasp Stiles’s eyes opened wide, he and the Oni locked for a seemingly endless moment, until the boy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he went limp in Lydia’s arms.

The Oni pulled away, leaving behind a raised mark.

Self.

********

Stiles looked up as the door to his bedroom opened, attempting to straighten himself when he saw who it was.

“Please, don’t.” Lydia tried not to look at the thick bandaging around his shoulder, the dark circles under his eyes. He was sitting down, surrounded with blankets and pillows, laptop thrown haphazardly away when he first caught sight of her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see that you were alright. You haven’t answered any of our calls.” Taking a seat at the edge of his bed, Lydia tried to read his eyes as she continued. “Scott is worried sick. He told me that he came but your dad turned him away—thankfully your dad can’t say no to me.”

Stiles smiled softly but said nothing, avoiding her gaze and instead staring intently at his hands as he wrung them in nervous silence.

“It’s over, you know,” she whispered.

He looked up. “Is it?”

“Stiles—“

“ Days blurred into a thousand undefinable moments. I could never tell what was real or not. I killed you a hundred times. You, and Scott, and my dad, and Derek, and Isaac, and Allison. Everyone. For a long time I thought if I just screamed loud enough, long enough, that somehow the sound would shatter the glass between what was real and what was not. I should have known better. You can't crack a veil, and that was what my mind became. A thin, gossamer sheet of memories that he stained and tore, stained and tore until there was nothing left but a broken rag. We may have won, Lydia, but I can still feel the scars. They're still bleeding, and even though he...that poison is gone I'm still drowning.”

Lydia sucked in a breath, leaning in closer after a meter of silence. “Do you remember the last time I kissed you Stiles?”

A little taken aback, he nodded nonetheless.

“I kissed you so you would hold your breath,” she whispered. “But now, I need you to breathe.”

And with the soft touch of lips the water began to fall away.

El Fin

-ladywarlock

(I hope you liked it!)

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