||Clearly, I have problems because I actually /like/ the pain demon!Stiles is provoking on my feels. T_T Help me.|| Deucalion chanted the words, getting louder and louder, excitement and urgency growing in his voice. The power behind the words, an old language, encircled the clearing and he could feel goosebumps rising on his arms and on the back of his neck, and if anything, that made him grin wider. Something was coming. “Deucalion, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Derek shouted at him, struggling against the hold of Kali who kept him pinned to the upturned ground. He was ignored, of course, and Kali pressed down harder so his voice was muffled by the dirt. It was a huge risk, she knew, calling upon a demon. She’d never encountered one before but she knew of their destruction and the damage they could cause. Calling upon one was the actions of the desperate and she really didn’t want to admit that they were. Deucalion’s voice seemed to carry further than before, reaching out and drawing not an ally but a slave with unmatched power into his control. He could feel when he was answered, a slight nudge in his direction and he grinned manically, falling silent as the ritual demanded. The clearing was silence and tense, filled with the heavy breathing and the impatient wait for something, anything, to happen. Kali grip on Derek slaked enough that he could yank himself away, standing on two feet and falling into a battle stance because who knew what could be expected? Time drew by slowly, and still nothing happened. No movement in the trees, no voice calling at them, not even a gust of wind. Deucalion’s once triumphant smile fell away, and his hands balled into frustrated fists. “Is…is that it?” Isaac questioned lowly, glancing at Scott, then Derek, then Boyd, as if one of them could answer him. “I don’t think so,” Scott responded suspiciously, eyebrows drawn together. “Does that mean it didn’t work?” Ethan asked uncertainly, his eyes on his alpha. “Didn’t work?” the man repeated, “Of course it worked. I could feel it. The demon is here. I called it and it is here. It’s under my control and I demand that you show yourself to your master now!” “Jesus, you’ve got a set of lungs on you,” a voice spoke. It was familiar, yet not. It was too harsh, too hoarse, too broken, too dark, to be who it was, but it was enough to have worry rising in the stomachs of the Hale pack as they turned towards their human members, standing a just away from the main scene. Allison and Lydia looked wide eyed and abet terrified, taking a step away from the boy in their group. Stiles. His head was bowed forward, so his face couldn’t be seen. He rolled his shoulders, as if testing the movement, before he finally lifted his head, straightening his back into a confident stance. His amber eyes, usually so bright and expressive, where gone and replaced with only darkness. Pitch black, an empty cavern that only gave feelings of horror, fear and just evil. “Could you be any louder?” the demon continued, arching an eyebrow. Deucalion grinned. “Finally. And in the human boy too, this is just too perfect.” “I am aren’t I?” the demon agreed with an amused tilt of his head. “I order the slaughter of the Hale pack, make sure there is nothing left of them,” Deucalion flicked his wrist and took an unsteady step forward, “Kali, come, we should leave and let our new friend-“ “You order me?” the demon arched his eyebrow, unimpressed, “Oh sweetie, apparently you haven’t heard this but, um, demons don’t take orders from every arsehole mongrel that calls their name.” Silence fell again, all eyes on the demon and the alpha of alphas. The Hale pack were uncertain of how to procedure. The demon was…refusing to kill them? Was that even possible? And the creature was in Stiles’ body. Even if it did decide to kill them, there wasn’t anything any of them could do. No one was going to hurt Stiles. “I summoned you demon, I control you. I gave you an order, so fully full it or else,” Deucalion gritted out. The demon looked as if he were considering his opinions. “Ah, I think I’ll take my chances with the ‘or else’, thanks Duke.” “I command you to do as I say!” “And I say, that I’m not doing it!” the demon retorted loudly. “How is that even possible? I thought the demon was supposed to do everything the person who summoned him said?” Aiden muttered to Kali. The demon’s eyes snapped to him. “A common misconception. Demons get called and if they wish to do as their told, they will. If they don’t, they won’t. Everyone was free will here kid. Besides, Stiles and I have a…understanding.” “You side with the human?” Deucalion was fully of disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend exactly how the human could be chosen over him. “Ah, well, he’s grown on me, you know,” the demon shrugged. “Grown on you,” Scott repeated, “How long have you been in him?” “A lot longer than you think,” the demon smiled wickedly at his old friend. “I’ve had enough of this,” Deucalion bellowed, frustration clear in his voice. Kali moved to her alphas side, holding onto his arm. “Ethan, Aiden, kill the demon.” Derek growled and took a step forward. He refused to let Stiles’ get here, even if that meant protecting a demon to do it. He was stopped by Stiles’ hand against his chest, familiar and warm and it seemed so wrong with those cold eyes staring at him. “Don’t worry, I got this,” he assured, before turning back to the alpha twins. “Alright, Thing 1, Thing 2, I think it’s time I put you and the Cat in the Hat to bed.” He cracked his knuckles and just as one twin reached for the other, he moved into action. One firm punch to Aiden jaw had the teen flying backwards and hitting a tree behind him. Ethan lurched to attack when Stiles’ leg swung out and getting him in the neck, forcing him in the opposite direction of his brother. ‘Stiles’ tsked. “Didn’t you see the rules before you entered the ring – no freaky body melds,” he teased. Ethan recovered first and slashed at him. ‘Stiles’ ducked and grabbed the arm, twisting it back and then kicking squarely at his chest. Ethan grunted, winded. Aiden ran at him from behind, as if trying to catch him off guard, but ‘Stiles’ was faster, lifting and using Ethan’s body as a baseball bat to hit it brother and sending them off into a heap onto the floor. “I’d stay down if I were you,” the demon advised, “I’m not supposed to kill you, but I won’t hesitated to rip your intestines from your gut if you come at me again.” He turned from the twins to Kali and Deucalion. “Now, you two, I’ve been told to do my worst and honey, really, you don’t want to see my worst.” His foot slid under a fallen branch and he glanced down at it, as if examining it for a moment before he grinned menacingly. “Yes,” he muttered, bending to pick it up. He tested the weight of it, shifting the jagged piece of fallen tree from one hand to the other, “Yes, this will definitely work.” His grip tightened on the branch and he made beckoning gestures with his hands. Kali came for him first, as expected. Her claws, on her hands and her bare feet – “seriously, haven’t you heard of a little invention called ‘shoes?” the demon mocked her – were drawn and she put all her strength behind the kicks and swings of her fists. Her frustration, her fear, only grew the longer the demon managed to avoid them. She double bluffed him, drawing his attention to the slide of her hand so that he wouldn’t noticed her feet. Her claws hit and cut into the skin, slicing his cheek. She landed in a crouch and watched him cautiously. ‘Stiles’ was just standing there, unmoving, and his free hand reached up to touch his cheek. He rubbed at the blood on his fingertips, and hummed. “Alright, play times over,” he muttered and spun around faster – too fast, faster than expected – and brought down the branch harshly. The tip pierced Kali’s skin and the force behind the thrust impaled the branch in the centre of her chest. ‘Stiles’ voice twisted into something grotesque and gleeful, forcing the branch deeper until it was stuck in the ground. Kali withered and gasped, her body trembling as blood steadily stained her shirt. She let out a broken sob when the demon dug his fingers into the open wound, spreading it before painting her blood onto her cheek, mimicking the mark she had left on him. “Stay,” the demon mocked with a chilling grin. He stood up straighter and his eyes zeroed in on Deucalion, who was moving into a full retreat. The demon grinned. He did like it when they tried to run. “Oh, Dukey, you can’t leave yet,” he teased, running and jumping on the man’s back, arms tightening around his neck, “You haven’t got your party bag yet.” Of course, Deucalion was stronger than the others. Years and years of destroying alphas and their packs, consuming their strength, had ensured that. He dislodged ‘Stiles’ from his shoulders quickly and threw him away. ‘Stiles’ caught himself in a roll and landed in a defensive crouch. “First move was mine,” he stated, “You’re turn.” Scott watched tense, helpless as his best friend – or not his best friend, at least just his body – fought the alpha with such anger and ferociousness and just a lack of remorse or care about what he was doing. The demon was enjoying what he was doing. The demon had suggested that he’d been there for a while, that it wasn’t Deucalion’s summon spell that brought him here, just let him loose for a while, and Scott was inclined to believe him. Since he’d become a werewolf, Scott had noticed the slight hint of sulphur to Stiles’ scent, but he’d never thought much about it. Now though, it was potent, only overpowered by the scent of blood and suffering and glee, but it was there right next to the rest of Stiles – the smell of pack and his soap and his dad’s cologne and sweet flowers. It made the oddest of mixtures, he knew, but at least it was proof that Stiles was really there. That this demon was a part of Stiles and had been for a while. He guessed it was only now, that he was faced to face with the truth, that he could see how much of the demon made up Stiles – or maybe it was how much of Stiles had become the demon. The battle was tense, nothing like the others. ‘Stiles’ was playing for kills, but then so was Deucalion. The strength of the alpha could be seen in those moments, in comparison to the others. Stiles got just as many hits, cuts that sliced into his body and open wounds that bleed profusely, unhealed, as he gave, incisions that couldn’t heal as fast as new ones were being replaced. It was just this never ending cycle that just didn’t seem to be ending any time soon. “We have to do something,” Lydia hissed, “Demon or no demon, Stiles is in there and he’s going to bleed out.” “Allison,” Derek spoke, not even turning to face her as he watched the exchange with avid interest, expression grim and body tense, poised to fight, “Throw him one of your daggers.” Allison nodded understandingly and fumbled in her weapon’s pouch for one. She grasped it tightly and held her hand over her head, “Stiles!” she shouted the warning before she threw it. Stiles ducked a punch and turned, grasping the dagger. He grinned happily and spun on his heel, one hand reaching up and embedding the weapon onto Deucalion’s jugular. The man’s movements halted suddenly at the unexpected pain. He probably would have been able to fight against it, but the demon twisted the blade, forcing it deeper. “I would say something witty like ‘any last words?’ or ‘demon got your throat’, but let’s be honest, we both know that you just need to die,” he muttered. He grinned widely, and adjusted his grip for a better angle. “See you in hell, Demon Wolf,” he taunted, before drawing the knife sharply across the expanse of his neck. He knew he was slicing the jugular, the wind pipe, the voice box, tearing muscle tissue and breaking arteries and veins – he could see the images in his mind – but all that mattered was the way Deucalion gurgled, blood cascading from the wound and staining the pale skin on his neck. The demon pressed harder, cracking the cervical vertebrate and slashing at soft tissue again. Deucalion’s head fell first, hitting the ground and rolling a moment before the body dropped and slumped into a heap on the floor. The demon was breathing heavily, and he took a step back, as if observing his work. He wiped the blade of the dagger against his red hoodie, and ran a hand over his face, smearing blood and specks of pink nerve over his face. “Well,” the demon spoke nonchalantly, “That was fun.” He turned his eyes to the Hale pack and took a step closer. “Since I just saved your arses, could you do me a favour and not try to exorcize me? I don’t usually leave such a mess.” He gestured down to himself. “Where’s Stiles?” Derek demanded. “Still in here, just in the backseat for once,” the demon assured, “You know he never lets me out to play?” “I can see why,” Isaac eyed the carnage around them and smiled nervously. The demon grinned and then his expression went blank before he huffed. “Fine. Stiles is getting insistent on driving again. Damn, I was enjoying having control for once. Remember, no exorcizing,” he gave them all a pointed look a moment before the black in his eyes faded away and there was amber again. Exhausted amber, but amber all the same. “Stiles…” Derek said the name thickly. “Are you okay?” Scott said urgently, taking a step forward. “Is that really you?” Allison questioned cautiously. Stiles licked his lips. “Yeah…yeah, it’s me. I’m…I’m good, Scotty, I’m…” his hand touched his stomach and he winced, pulling his hand away and blinking at the thick red colour that tainted his skin, “I’m…bleeding.” He showed his hands to his friend, laughing giddily. And then he passed out.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Jul 2013 21:22:46 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015