comment_fic 801-805: Teen Wolf, SN, Avengers
Title: This is the way
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Eliot
Warnings: future!fic, mentions of character death
Pairings: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 515
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles,
He's pulling his weapon to his side
Loading it full of his goodbyes
Holding an enemy across the line
Wolves don't mate for life, no matter what Scott says. Stiles has done the research; wolves are serial monogamists.
No matter how the pack pokes fun at 'Mom and Dad,' Stiles has always known the way this would end. He loves Beacon Hills, he does - but he can't stay. Not for Derek. Not even for Dad.
.
This isn't for the good of the pack. This isn't because of the blood soaked into every inch of Beacon Hills, or the stench of smoke always on the breeze. This isn't because of the looks he still gets when he buys groceries, the mutters he shouldn't be able to hear but can.
This is because Stiles has spent twenty years putting everyone before himself and he's so damned tired. If he doesn't get out now, Beacon Hills will kill him.
Part of him wants the rest. He needs it.
But most of him remembers how hard his mother fought to live, how hard his father tried to keep breathing, and he knows that he can't disappoint them by giving up.
.
Stiles will miss them all, Derek and his puppies and even Deaton. He'll miss the house he grew up in and the meadow where he scattered both his parents' ashes. He'll miss the home Derek has turned the one-time Hale wreck into.
The pack are staying close; the furthest away is Lydia at Stanford.
Nowhere is too far and Stiles hasn't set any plan in stone. He's got more than enough money and a spark stirring his blood, and his parents had never gone further than Arizona, though his mom was fascinated with Australia.
So that's the plan, then.
.
He says goodbye beneath a full moon. Derek doesn't ask him to stay. Stiles wouldn't have if he did. Scott hugs him too hard, Allison kisses his cheek, Erica punches him in the shoulder, Boyd claps him on the back, Lydia pats him on the cheek, and Isaac and Jackson shake his hand.
As Stiles passes over the territory line, a single howl follows him down the highway.
.
He doesn't turn around. He may come back one day and he has no idea what will be waiting - but he can't stay a moment longer. Too much blood is soaked into the ground, and too much of it is his. It's leave or die.
Part of him wants to stay, will always want to stay. But the windows are down, letting in a night wind that doesn't stink of smoke and old blood, and he knows that this is for the best.
Maybe he'll be back. Maybe he won't. He doesn't know. But he does know that he's already breathing easier, and that there's already tension fading from his muscles, and whether or not he goes back - he throws back his head and lets a howl echo over the horizon.
Whether he's with them or not, they're his pack. He always knew he was leaving, but he'll always love Derek.
He howls again, breathing smoke-free air, and there's a world waiting for him where his blood hasn't soaked into the ground.
Title: You can make anything of yourself, you know
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Kevin Young
Warnings: violence; language; future!fic (ish)
Pairings: none
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 865
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf/any vampire fandom, Stiles +/ any, His first time meeting a vampire doesn't end how he pictured it.
His hands are still sparking and he can't catch his breath, and he stares at where - at where -
Motherfucking vampires. What the fuck?
.
A nest of vampires tries to move into Beacon Hills. Derek catches the first scent and warns the pack to be watchful. Vampires don't usually go after werewolves, but humans are fair game, even humans that smell like wolf.
So Stiles is totally on guard when the vampire jumps him on the way home from Jungle, and the vampire is faster than Derek but not quite as strong, and when it lunges for his neck, fangs bared, he helplessly raises his hands and wishes -
And lightning strikes the vampire, lightning from his hands -
"What the fuck?" he gasps, sparks on his fingers and vampire ash in his mouth.
.
The vampires, of course, know that the only thing in Beacon Hills capable of taking down one of their nest is a werewolf. Derek, of course, knows that none of the pack killed a vampire.
Stiles doesn't say a word so that none of the supernatural creatures around him catch him in a lie.
.
Another vampire comes after him, of course. Because fuck his life.
But this time, Danny is with him, perfectly perfect Danny, totally human and under a goddamned thrall.
This time, Stiles doesn't wish. He believes.
Lightning in his hand, vampire ash in his mouth, and Danny blinking in stupefaction.
Seriously. Fuck his life.
.
This time, there's no hiding it. The stench of almost-zombie is all over Danny and Jackson almost goes to war, and Scott is frothing at the mouth, and Allison spouting off all the facts from the Argent bestiary -
But Derek is looking at Stiles. When he says, "Quiet," everyone shuts up. When he says, "Stiles," Stiles' heart skips a beat. "Stiles," he says again. "What happened to the vampire?"
Stiles licks his lips, keeping his gaze lowered, silently rushing through a thousand different explanations.
"Stiles," Derek rumbles.
And that, of fucking course, is when the entire nest of vampires attack.
.
Ten vampires against six werewolves, a hunter, a genius, and a boy who can accidently create lightning.
Yeah.
It's not really much of a fight.
.
And then the vampire 'king' is in the room with his hand wrapped around Derek's throat. He's older, that's obvious - Stiles can smell the power on him, old earth and oceans of blood - and so much stronger.
When Derek whimpers, scrabbling uselessly at the vampire's grip, the pack all turn from their own battles to rush the king holding their alpha. But the king simply squeezes harder and snarls, "Stay back or his throat is forfeit."
So the wolves freeze, of course, and the vampires all slink to stand by their king, Stiles needs, Stiles wants, Stiles completely believes -
"Kill him!" the vampire roars, but thunder fills the air and lightning strikes every vampire Stiles can see or sense.
One of them gets in a last lucky hit, though, before she explodes, and Stiles slams into the dirt. Something cracks, and something else creaks, and -
.
Stiles wakes in a hospital room. Of course he does. Thanks to werewolf healing, he's the worst injured from a werewolf-vampire-human rumble.
Dad's the first person he sees, then a doctor and a few nurses (not Scott's mom, unfortunately), and then Scott, and then a quick visit with the pack.
Two broken ribs, a wrenched shoulder, and a concussion. Stiles has to fake another attack from a rival team, and claim he didn't see any of their faces, to get his dad out of the room, ready to go track down the shitheads who beat his son into the ground.
Yeah, that's not a kick to his pride or anything. And he really will have to tell his dad the truth soon. The lie tastes worst every time.
.
It's the middle of the night when Stiles wakes up and there's a surly werewolf alpha in his room.
"You're getting predictable," Stiles mumbles.
"And you're a lightning rod," Derek snarks back.
Stiles snorts, trying to sit up. One of his ribs creaks and he winces; Derek gently catches him, supporting him until he's situated.
"So, yeah," Stiles says when he gets his breath back. "I have this thing with lightning now."
Derek just raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles tries to shrug with his own eyebrows so that he doesn't pull any other part of his body and when Derek huffs a little laugh he figures he conveyed the sentiment.
"And, yeah," Stiles continues, "I killed that first vampire who went missing, and the second, and, possibly, the rest of the nest?"
"Yup," Derek says. "It was impressive."
Stiles holds a hand up to look at his palm, which is completely unscorched. But he held lightning. He threw lightning. Even now, through some pretty good medications and exhaustion, he can feel it roiling in his blood, waiting.
Fuck his life, for real.
.
His ribs are still tender, but the debilitating headaches are gone and he's got full range of motion back in his shoulder.
"So," Derek says, the pack ranged around them. "Show us what you can do."
Stiles closes his eyes and believes.
Title: dark and unnatural
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Practical Magic
Warnings: AU; dark
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Sam, What opened its eyes, when the demon brought Sam Winchester back to life?
What's dead should stay dead doesn't apply to Sammy.
It should, though. It really should.
.
Dean is so exhilarated that Sam's alive, and they have to deal with Jake, and Bobby keeps watching Sam warily, and Ellen keeps out of reach, and Dean knows, he does, but he could not care less.
Sam's alive.
(Sam's not.)
.
Sam's back is to Dean, as he reads though another obscure text, looking for a way out of the deal that returned his life.
Sam's eyes are paler than ivory. And he doesn't need an obscure text.
.
Sam is not a vessel for Lucifer, and no one knows about the angels yet.
Dean is a vessel for Michael, and the months pass by too swiftly, and it's three weeks, two, one.
It's today.
.
Lilith commands the hounds and they do not move.
Dean looks at Sam with eyes that should see but don't.
Dean will only ever see his little brother when he looks at Sam, whether or not his little brother is alone in the flesh.
Sam holds up a hand and Lilith burns while the hounds scream.
.
Dean looks at his little brother, eyes pale as ivory.
Sam looks at his big brother and smiles.
What's dead should stay dead. Worlds die when it doesn't.
But Sam's alive. And so is Dean.
There is no Righteous Man, and no Boy-King of Hell. There are only Winchesters, one bright as a fire and one with eyes the color of bone. There are only brothers, about to burn the world because one is blind when it comes to the other, and the other should never have breathed again after breathing his last.
Title: offering
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; AU
Pairings: Thanos/Death
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Point of view: third
Prompt: The Avengers, Loki & Thanos, "Our bodies are ours to break, ours to throw into rivers, ours to light on fire, ours to launch into the depths of space."
What have you to offer? he asked the godling huddled on cold rock.
Only myself and the worlds I break, the godling murmured.
That is enough, he said. Rise.
.
Fallen into the depths, abandoned and forgotten, lost, so lost - a worthy adversary, had things gone differently.
But things did not go differently and Thanos watched the godling's pain and fear and rage temper into a determination to burn down everything that had been for what would be:
Loki Odinson become Loki No-one-son, scourge of the cosmos.
A worthy ally, Thanos thought.
The child is not your ally, his love replied from a far off star.
No, Thanos agreed. Tools are not allies - but they might eventually be.
.
Loki's one task on Earth (as they locals call it) was to open the door.
Three thousand Chitauri died, but that is their purpose.
The way was shut - or so the locals believed.
Loki returned to Asgard in chains, but Thanos' love was near enough to cradle his spirit, and that was enough.
.
What have you to offer? Death asked the boy trembling in her arms.
Only myself and the realms I slaughter, the godling murmured.
Then rise, once-father, Death said. Rise and be free.
.
Loki vanished from Asgard. By the time he returned, no one living on Earth remembered him as anything more than history.
Remember what you promised, Thanos told him, hand-in-hand with Death.
"Brother!" Thor shouted at the head of Asgard's army, wearing his father's crown and carrying his father's spear.
Loki Odinson died when he fell, so Loki did not reply.
Show us your worth, once-father, Death murmured.
Loki, scourge of the cosmos; Loki, bringer of Ragnarök.
"Brother!" Thor shouted again.
Only myself, Loki thought, and it is enough.
He closed his eyes and lit the fire.
Title: off the beaten path
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: character death; AU
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 550
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any,
Run boy run! This world is not made for you
Run boy run! They're trying to catch you
Run boy run! Running is a victory
Run boy run! Beauty lays behind the hills (Woodkid, "Run, Boy, Run")
Dad dies on the last day of October, in a stupidly simple domestic gone wrong.
Stiles is twelve.
.
He runs. His dad's brother is on the way to get him, and Scott is with his father down in Arizona, and Mrs. McCall is awesome, really she is, but Mom's only been dead for four years and that's not long enough to heal, nowhere near enough, and now Dad is gone.
Dad's gone, and Stiles is no one's problem but his own.
So he runs.
.
He stopped being Allandros when he was eight. He stops being Stiles when he's twelve.
.
Every time someone picks him up just to the next town, I promise he changes his name. Every bus ticket is someone new.
He slips through the cracks and crosses the continent, and it takes the better part of a year and every ounce of his creativity and determination, but he kneels down on the Atlantic shore somewhere in Georgia and breathes in the ocean.
He breathes and breathes and breathes.
.
That same night, he meets his first werewolf.
.
The next night, he meets his first hunter.
.
The werewolf was young, maybe twenty. He was running scared, banked rage caught in his throat, and if he'd been thinking clearly he would've run the other way.
But he ran for the water, and ended up in a no-name town in Georgia, and found a kid sitting on the beach at night, bathed in moonlight.
He actually tripped over the kid, catching himself before sprawling on the sand, and the kid yelped, scrambling into a crouch and glaring up at him.
The moonlight was bright enough for the kid to see everything.
When the werewolf ran, the kid followed.
.
"I know you're here, puppy," the woman called, laughing. "C'mon, let me make it an even dozen. I already got your burnt-up uncle and bitch sister - you're all alone, kiddo. Aren't you tired of running and hiding like a pussy?"
The werewolf's eyes were closed, his hands pressed so tight against his ears that his fingers were turning white. The kid was tucked up beside him, eyes wide open and angry, listening to a stranger say horrible, terrible things.
The werewolf still hadn't realized why the kid was familiar, but the kid had already figured it out.
.
Sparks are dangerous things, when left unattended.
.
Kate Argent is found on the beach in Georgia, a burnt-out husk holding a gun that solves four cold cases. Laura and Derek Hale are still missing, last seen in Tennessee. An Amber Alert is still in effect for Allandros 'Stiles' Stilinski, last seen in Oklahoma till he caught sight of the state trooper and started running again.
.
"You should go home!" Derek shouts, eyes red as blood.
"I don't have a home!" the kid shouts back. He's still musing about what name to pick now that he's decided to stick around; at the moment, he's leaning towards Rafe.
"You can't - " Derek starts, but the kid holds up a hand.
"No," he says, letting all levity drop. "You need a keeper and I need company. Neither of us has anyone, Derek."
"Fine," Derek growls. "But the first time you slow me down, I'm turning you over to the cops."
Rafe doesn't even have to hear his heartbeat to know he's lying.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Eliot
Warnings: future!fic, mentions of character death
Pairings: Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 515
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles,
He's pulling his weapon to his side
Loading it full of his goodbyes
Holding an enemy across the line
Wolves don't mate for life, no matter what Scott says. Stiles has done the research; wolves are serial monogamists.
No matter how the pack pokes fun at 'Mom and Dad,' Stiles has always known the way this would end. He loves Beacon Hills, he does - but he can't stay. Not for Derek. Not even for Dad.
.
This isn't for the good of the pack. This isn't because of the blood soaked into every inch of Beacon Hills, or the stench of smoke always on the breeze. This isn't because of the looks he still gets when he buys groceries, the mutters he shouldn't be able to hear but can.
This is because Stiles has spent twenty years putting everyone before himself and he's so damned tired. If he doesn't get out now, Beacon Hills will kill him.
Part of him wants the rest. He needs it.
But most of him remembers how hard his mother fought to live, how hard his father tried to keep breathing, and he knows that he can't disappoint them by giving up.
.
Stiles will miss them all, Derek and his puppies and even Deaton. He'll miss the house he grew up in and the meadow where he scattered both his parents' ashes. He'll miss the home Derek has turned the one-time Hale wreck into.
The pack are staying close; the furthest away is Lydia at Stanford.
Nowhere is too far and Stiles hasn't set any plan in stone. He's got more than enough money and a spark stirring his blood, and his parents had never gone further than Arizona, though his mom was fascinated with Australia.
So that's the plan, then.
.
He says goodbye beneath a full moon. Derek doesn't ask him to stay. Stiles wouldn't have if he did. Scott hugs him too hard, Allison kisses his cheek, Erica punches him in the shoulder, Boyd claps him on the back, Lydia pats him on the cheek, and Isaac and Jackson shake his hand.
As Stiles passes over the territory line, a single howl follows him down the highway.
.
He doesn't turn around. He may come back one day and he has no idea what will be waiting - but he can't stay a moment longer. Too much blood is soaked into the ground, and too much of it is his. It's leave or die.
Part of him wants to stay, will always want to stay. But the windows are down, letting in a night wind that doesn't stink of smoke and old blood, and he knows that this is for the best.
Maybe he'll be back. Maybe he won't. He doesn't know. But he does know that he's already breathing easier, and that there's already tension fading from his muscles, and whether or not he goes back - he throws back his head and lets a howl echo over the horizon.
Whether he's with them or not, they're his pack. He always knew he was leaving, but he'll always love Derek.
He howls again, breathing smoke-free air, and there's a world waiting for him where his blood hasn't soaked into the ground.
Title: You can make anything of yourself, you know
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Kevin Young
Warnings: violence; language; future!fic (ish)
Pairings: none
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 865
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf/any vampire fandom, Stiles +/ any, His first time meeting a vampire doesn't end how he pictured it.
His hands are still sparking and he can't catch his breath, and he stares at where - at where -
Motherfucking vampires. What the fuck?
.
A nest of vampires tries to move into Beacon Hills. Derek catches the first scent and warns the pack to be watchful. Vampires don't usually go after werewolves, but humans are fair game, even humans that smell like wolf.
So Stiles is totally on guard when the vampire jumps him on the way home from Jungle, and the vampire is faster than Derek but not quite as strong, and when it lunges for his neck, fangs bared, he helplessly raises his hands and wishes -
And lightning strikes the vampire, lightning from his hands -
"What the fuck?" he gasps, sparks on his fingers and vampire ash in his mouth.
.
The vampires, of course, know that the only thing in Beacon Hills capable of taking down one of their nest is a werewolf. Derek, of course, knows that none of the pack killed a vampire.
Stiles doesn't say a word so that none of the supernatural creatures around him catch him in a lie.
.
Another vampire comes after him, of course. Because fuck his life.
But this time, Danny is with him, perfectly perfect Danny, totally human and under a goddamned thrall.
This time, Stiles doesn't wish. He believes.
Lightning in his hand, vampire ash in his mouth, and Danny blinking in stupefaction.
Seriously. Fuck his life.
.
This time, there's no hiding it. The stench of almost-zombie is all over Danny and Jackson almost goes to war, and Scott is frothing at the mouth, and Allison spouting off all the facts from the Argent bestiary -
But Derek is looking at Stiles. When he says, "Quiet," everyone shuts up. When he says, "Stiles," Stiles' heart skips a beat. "Stiles," he says again. "What happened to the vampire?"
Stiles licks his lips, keeping his gaze lowered, silently rushing through a thousand different explanations.
"Stiles," Derek rumbles.
And that, of fucking course, is when the entire nest of vampires attack.
.
Ten vampires against six werewolves, a hunter, a genius, and a boy who can accidently create lightning.
Yeah.
It's not really much of a fight.
.
And then the vampire 'king' is in the room with his hand wrapped around Derek's throat. He's older, that's obvious - Stiles can smell the power on him, old earth and oceans of blood - and so much stronger.
When Derek whimpers, scrabbling uselessly at the vampire's grip, the pack all turn from their own battles to rush the king holding their alpha. But the king simply squeezes harder and snarls, "Stay back or his throat is forfeit."
So the wolves freeze, of course, and the vampires all slink to stand by their king, Stiles needs, Stiles wants, Stiles completely believes -
"Kill him!" the vampire roars, but thunder fills the air and lightning strikes every vampire Stiles can see or sense.
One of them gets in a last lucky hit, though, before she explodes, and Stiles slams into the dirt. Something cracks, and something else creaks, and -
.
Stiles wakes in a hospital room. Of course he does. Thanks to werewolf healing, he's the worst injured from a werewolf-vampire-human rumble.
Dad's the first person he sees, then a doctor and a few nurses (not Scott's mom, unfortunately), and then Scott, and then a quick visit with the pack.
Two broken ribs, a wrenched shoulder, and a concussion. Stiles has to fake another attack from a rival team, and claim he didn't see any of their faces, to get his dad out of the room, ready to go track down the shitheads who beat his son into the ground.
Yeah, that's not a kick to his pride or anything. And he really will have to tell his dad the truth soon. The lie tastes worst every time.
.
It's the middle of the night when Stiles wakes up and there's a surly werewolf alpha in his room.
"You're getting predictable," Stiles mumbles.
"And you're a lightning rod," Derek snarks back.
Stiles snorts, trying to sit up. One of his ribs creaks and he winces; Derek gently catches him, supporting him until he's situated.
"So, yeah," Stiles says when he gets his breath back. "I have this thing with lightning now."
Derek just raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles tries to shrug with his own eyebrows so that he doesn't pull any other part of his body and when Derek huffs a little laugh he figures he conveyed the sentiment.
"And, yeah," Stiles continues, "I killed that first vampire who went missing, and the second, and, possibly, the rest of the nest?"
"Yup," Derek says. "It was impressive."
Stiles holds a hand up to look at his palm, which is completely unscorched. But he held lightning. He threw lightning. Even now, through some pretty good medications and exhaustion, he can feel it roiling in his blood, waiting.
Fuck his life, for real.
.
His ribs are still tender, but the debilitating headaches are gone and he's got full range of motion back in his shoulder.
"So," Derek says, the pack ranged around them. "Show us what you can do."
Stiles closes his eyes and believes.
Title: dark and unnatural
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Practical Magic
Warnings: AU; dark
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Sam, What opened its eyes, when the demon brought Sam Winchester back to life?
What's dead should stay dead doesn't apply to Sammy.
It should, though. It really should.
.
Dean is so exhilarated that Sam's alive, and they have to deal with Jake, and Bobby keeps watching Sam warily, and Ellen keeps out of reach, and Dean knows, he does, but he could not care less.
Sam's alive.
(Sam's not.)
.
Sam's back is to Dean, as he reads though another obscure text, looking for a way out of the deal that returned his life.
Sam's eyes are paler than ivory. And he doesn't need an obscure text.
.
Sam is not a vessel for Lucifer, and no one knows about the angels yet.
Dean is a vessel for Michael, and the months pass by too swiftly, and it's three weeks, two, one.
It's today.
.
Lilith commands the hounds and they do not move.
Dean looks at Sam with eyes that should see but don't.
Dean will only ever see his little brother when he looks at Sam, whether or not his little brother is alone in the flesh.
Sam holds up a hand and Lilith burns while the hounds scream.
.
Dean looks at his little brother, eyes pale as ivory.
Sam looks at his big brother and smiles.
What's dead should stay dead. Worlds die when it doesn't.
But Sam's alive. And so is Dean.
There is no Righteous Man, and no Boy-King of Hell. There are only Winchesters, one bright as a fire and one with eyes the color of bone. There are only brothers, about to burn the world because one is blind when it comes to the other, and the other should never have breathed again after breathing his last.
Title: offering
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; AU
Pairings: Thanos/Death
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Point of view: third
Prompt: The Avengers, Loki & Thanos, "Our bodies are ours to break, ours to throw into rivers, ours to light on fire, ours to launch into the depths of space."
What have you to offer? he asked the godling huddled on cold rock.
Only myself and the worlds I break, the godling murmured.
That is enough, he said. Rise.
.
Fallen into the depths, abandoned and forgotten, lost, so lost - a worthy adversary, had things gone differently.
But things did not go differently and Thanos watched the godling's pain and fear and rage temper into a determination to burn down everything that had been for what would be:
Loki Odinson become Loki No-one-son, scourge of the cosmos.
A worthy ally, Thanos thought.
The child is not your ally, his love replied from a far off star.
No, Thanos agreed. Tools are not allies - but they might eventually be.
.
Loki's one task on Earth (as they locals call it) was to open the door.
Three thousand Chitauri died, but that is their purpose.
The way was shut - or so the locals believed.
Loki returned to Asgard in chains, but Thanos' love was near enough to cradle his spirit, and that was enough.
.
What have you to offer? Death asked the boy trembling in her arms.
Only myself and the realms I slaughter, the godling murmured.
Then rise, once-father, Death said. Rise and be free.
.
Loki vanished from Asgard. By the time he returned, no one living on Earth remembered him as anything more than history.
Remember what you promised, Thanos told him, hand-in-hand with Death.
"Brother!" Thor shouted at the head of Asgard's army, wearing his father's crown and carrying his father's spear.
Loki Odinson died when he fell, so Loki did not reply.
Show us your worth, once-father, Death murmured.
Loki, scourge of the cosmos; Loki, bringer of Ragnarök.
"Brother!" Thor shouted again.
Only myself, Loki thought, and it is enough.
He closed his eyes and lit the fire.
Title: off the beaten path
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: character death; AU
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 550
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any,
Run boy run! This world is not made for you
Run boy run! They're trying to catch you
Run boy run! Running is a victory
Run boy run! Beauty lays behind the hills (Woodkid, "Run, Boy, Run")
Dad dies on the last day of October, in a stupidly simple domestic gone wrong.
Stiles is twelve.
.
He runs. His dad's brother is on the way to get him, and Scott is with his father down in Arizona, and Mrs. McCall is awesome, really she is, but Mom's only been dead for four years and that's not long enough to heal, nowhere near enough, and now Dad is gone.
Dad's gone, and Stiles is no one's problem but his own.
So he runs.
.
He stopped being Allandros when he was eight. He stops being Stiles when he's twelve.
.
Every time someone picks him up just to the next town, I promise he changes his name. Every bus ticket is someone new.
He slips through the cracks and crosses the continent, and it takes the better part of a year and every ounce of his creativity and determination, but he kneels down on the Atlantic shore somewhere in Georgia and breathes in the ocean.
He breathes and breathes and breathes.
.
That same night, he meets his first werewolf.
.
The next night, he meets his first hunter.
.
The werewolf was young, maybe twenty. He was running scared, banked rage caught in his throat, and if he'd been thinking clearly he would've run the other way.
But he ran for the water, and ended up in a no-name town in Georgia, and found a kid sitting on the beach at night, bathed in moonlight.
He actually tripped over the kid, catching himself before sprawling on the sand, and the kid yelped, scrambling into a crouch and glaring up at him.
The moonlight was bright enough for the kid to see everything.
When the werewolf ran, the kid followed.
.
"I know you're here, puppy," the woman called, laughing. "C'mon, let me make it an even dozen. I already got your burnt-up uncle and bitch sister - you're all alone, kiddo. Aren't you tired of running and hiding like a pussy?"
The werewolf's eyes were closed, his hands pressed so tight against his ears that his fingers were turning white. The kid was tucked up beside him, eyes wide open and angry, listening to a stranger say horrible, terrible things.
The werewolf still hadn't realized why the kid was familiar, but the kid had already figured it out.
.
Sparks are dangerous things, when left unattended.
.
Kate Argent is found on the beach in Georgia, a burnt-out husk holding a gun that solves four cold cases. Laura and Derek Hale are still missing, last seen in Tennessee. An Amber Alert is still in effect for Allandros 'Stiles' Stilinski, last seen in Oklahoma till he caught sight of the state trooper and started running again.
.
"You should go home!" Derek shouts, eyes red as blood.
"I don't have a home!" the kid shouts back. He's still musing about what name to pick now that he's decided to stick around; at the moment, he's leaning towards Rafe.
"You can't - " Derek starts, but the kid holds up a hand.
"No," he says, letting all levity drop. "You need a keeper and I need company. Neither of us has anyone, Derek."
"Fine," Derek growls. "But the first time you slow me down, I'm turning you over to the cops."
Rafe doesn't even have to hear his heartbeat to know he's lying.