#supernatural reader

Snow had already begun to swallow the sound of the world when you fell.

The impact had not been graceful.

Angels were not meant to fall.

Your body struck the frozen earth like something that had been violently torn from the sky. Bone shuddered beneath your skin. Your wings collapsed beneath you in a tangle of white and darkened feathers.

For a long moment, you could not breathe.

Then sensation returned.

Cold like knives sliding beneath your skin.

Pain followed, sharp, invasive, everywhere at once. Every nerve that Heaven had once quieted awakened with brutal enthusiasm.

Your lungs burned with the effort of air.

Your heart pounded wildly.

You had never felt your own body like this before.

You lay in the snow beneath towering fir trees. The clouds swallowed the stars above you. The forest seemed endless.

For the first time since your creation…

You were alone.

Your fingers twitched against the frozen ground.

Slowly, painfully, you forced yourself upright.

Your wings dragged heavily behind you as you staggered forward. They were enormous, nearly three meters from root to tip, but now they felt wrong on your body, like broken limbs that refused to obey you. Feathers scraped against ice and mud, leaving trails in the snow behind you.

Your halo no longer floated above your head.

It sat in your hands.

Cracked. Dim.

You walked.

You did not know how long.

Time felt different now. Hours passed or perhaps only minutes. The forest eventually thinned until the dark line of a road appeared beneath your bare feet.

Streetlamps flickered weakly through falling snow. Your wings scraped along the pavement. Your skin trembled violently with cold. Your breath came in small, ragged clouds.

Your gaze lifted.

And you saw a house.

Two stories of dark brick. Every window glowed softly from within.

It stood apart from the other homes.

Beautiful.

Wrong.

The moment you looked at it, something deep inside your ruined grace stirred.

You walked toward it anyway.

Like a wounded bird returning to an unfamiliar nest.

By the time you reached the garden, your legs trembled so violently you nearly collapsed. Your wings dragged through the snow behind you, feathers dirty and heavy.

You stopped beneath one of the windows.

Inside, warm golden light flickered.

You should have left.

You knew you should have left.

But instead, you stood there in the darkness, staring through the glass.

A man moved within the room.

Tall.

Precise.

Composed in a way that made your chest tighten with something unfamiliar. He poured himself a glass of deep red wine.

Your breath fogged against the glass.

You couldn't look away.

Then…

His head lifted.

Slowly.

As if he had heard something that did not exist.

His eyes found yours through the frost-covered window.

And he did not flinch.

Your fingers tightened around your broken halo.

Inside the house, the man placed his glass down. His movements were unhurried, almost graceful as he approached the window.

When he stood before you, the light revealed his face clearly.

Calm. Thoughtful. And something darker, buried very deep behind his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact he opened the window.

Cold air slipped between you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

You felt your heart hammering painfully inside your chest. The sound alone felt overwhelming. Angels were not meant to hear their own hearts.

Then, quietly, you spoke.

“Hannibal… Lecter.”

The name left your mouth like instinct.

Angels knew such things, and even if divinity was slipping from you, it stuck out to you.

His soul was…

Rotten.

Beautifully rotten.

A slow blink passed over his dark eyes.

He studied you with unsettling patience.

You watched him.

“You speak my name,” he said softly.

His voice was velvet, soft soothing against your trembling form.

“And yet… we have never met.”

His gaze drifted down your wings, massive things now dragged through dirt and blood-streaked snow.

“Are you lost?”

You nodded slowly.

The movement felt heavy.

“I am.”

Your voice sounded smaller than you remembered it ever being.

Your fingers tightened unconsciously around the halo.

“I cannot go home.”

The words felt like glass inside your throat. A faint crack echoed through the halo in your hands.

You gasped softly.

Another fracture had split across the halo’s surface.

You held it closer to your chest immediately, as if your pure warmth might heal it.

“I am far from it.”

For a moment, Hannibal said nothing.

His gaze lowered to the broken ring.

Then his eyes returned to you, curious in a way.

“You fell from Heaven?”

Your answer came instantly.

“No.”

Too quickly. Too defensive.

You turned away from him before he could ask anything more.

Your legs finally gave out beneath you as you stepped further into the garden. The cold grass bit through your skin as you collapsed into the snow.

Your wings shifted weakly.

One of them unfolded partially, feathers scattering into the white ground beneath you. Some were stained with blood from the violence of your fall.

With a tired motion, you pulled the wing over your body like a blanket.

Your breathing slowed.

Below you, the snow welcomed you into its cold embrace.

Above you, the night continued to fall.

Hannibal stood at the window watching.

For several seconds, he did not move.

An angel.

Collapsed in his garden like a dying bird.

He felt no pity.

But fascination.

That bloomed immediately.

The surgeon in him saw injury.

The artist saw ruin.

And something darker wondered what an angel might taste like.

He left the window.

Moments later, the back door opened.

Cold air rushed inside as Hannibal stepped out into the snow, coat hastily thrown over his shoulders. His footsteps were quiet as he approached you.

His voice was soft.

Almost gentle. As he towered above you.

“You’re freezing.”

Your eyes peeked over the edge of your wing.

The feathers trembled slightly with every shallow breath you take.

You watched him.

“No,” you whispered again.

Your voice was weaker now. Thinner. As if the cold is slowly stealing pieces of it.

Angels were never meant to shiver.

Angels were never meant to feel the cold gnawing into bone.

But your body trembled anyway as your divinity left you, too far from home.

With a quiet, pained gasp, you dragged your wing fully over yourself again, burying your body beneath the damaged feathers like a wounded creature hiding in its own plumage.

Your breath stuttered.

The torn flesh in your wing stretched and sent pain right through you.

Hannibal saw it now.

The rip.

A thin but unmistakable tear through the soft layers of feathers.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Fascinating.

You claim not to feel the cold.

Yet pain…

Pain speaks a language every creature understands.

Without asking, he reached toward you.

Slowly.

Two long fingers hovered beside the wound, careful not to touch the torn skin just yet. He pressed gently into the surrounding feathers instead.

You flinched instantly.

Your wing snapped close with a rustle of feathers, hiding the wound.

“Don’t– touch me.” you hissed.

A wounded animal’s warning.

Hannibal withdrew his hand at once.

Not offended or irritated.

Only… observing.

Interesting.

“The wound requires cleaning.”

His gaze flicks briefly toward the warm glow of the house behind him before returning to your dark, wary eyes.

You shake your head immediately.

“It doesn’t…”

Your voice cracked slightly as you clung to the last bit of hope that your divinity was not lost.

Angels healed.

You always healed.

Before Heaven took everything from you.

Your body curled tighter against itself as another wave of pain rolled through you. With every passing second, the strange heaviness of your human flesh became more apparent.

Your heart was too loud.

Your lungs burned.

Your muscles ached.

Pain was no longer something you merely understood.

Now it lived inside you.

You gasped softly.

A small whimper escaped your throat before you could stop it.

You tried so desperately to push yourself upright, but your arms trembled violently beneath your weight. Your wings twitched uselessly behind you. Nothing about this body obeyed you the way it should.

Hannibal saw it.

The failed movement.

The awkward struggle.

Angels, he had always imagined, would move like poetry.

You moved like something broken.

Something that had forgotten how its own body works.

A living thing whose flesh was betraying it.

He made a decision.

Before you coil protest again, he slid one arm carefully beneath your shoulders and another behind your knees.

Then he lifted you, almost effortlessly.

If it weren’t for the wings.

They were heavy.

Shockingly heavy. The weight nearly equal to your own body.

You did not fight him this time.

Fear flickered in your chest, but something else rose beside it.

Something strange.

Something almost familiar.

Your halo pulsed faintly in your trembling hands.

The light was weaker now.

Dim.

Fading.

You clutched it tighter against your feather-covered chest as a small sob caught in your throat.

“Please… no…”

Hannibal paused, not because you resisted him.

Because of that.

The plea.

His eyes lowered to the object you cradled so desperately.

The halo.

Its glow flickering like a dying star.

He studied your face.

Tears clinging to your lashes.

Your lips trembled.

Angels cry.

Apparently.

“What is happening to it?”

You pressed the ring harder against yourself. As if you could push it back into your soul.

“I’m dying,” you whispered, even if it wasn’t entirely true.

But it is the closest word your mind could find.

Angels were not meant to feel like this.

The pounding heart.

The aching muscles.

The unbearable weight of sensation flooding every nerve.

You had once felt human pain only through empathy.

Now it belonged to you.

And it was unbearable.

Hannibal exhaled softly.

You were not dying.

Not yet.

He carried you through the open door of the house.

The heat from the fireplace made your body shudder harder due to the sudden contrast.

Carefully, almost delicately, Hannibal lowered you onto a plush couch near the fire.

Your wings spilled across the cushions, feathers scattered softly across the dark fabric.

For a moment he simply stands there.

Watching.

Assessing.

The wound.

Your trembling body.

Stiles is led down the stairs to the basement the agent house, he’s thrown to the ground once at the bottom of the stairs, before he has time to process he hears whimpering further into the dark room, he reaches for a light switch, it takes a few moments to find but when he does he flips the switch as quick as he can manage, and comes face to face with Boyd and Erica tied at the wrists hanging from the ceiling, duct tape covers their mouths.

Scott, Y/n and Issac were in the locker room with sheriff Stilinski while the other players were getting ready to leave the room. “I got to with the medical examiner and try and figure out with happened with Jackson. I’ve got an APB out in Stiles. His jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means…” Noah cuts himself off with a sad and worried sigh. “Well, I don’t know what that means. Um… Look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if either one of you see him…” “We’ll call you.” Issacs tells the man. “Look, he’s probably just freaked out from all the attention or something.” Scott tried to reason. He knows it’s not that simple but he doesn’t want to worry the sheriff even more than he always is. “We’ll find him.” Y/n adds. And she hopes they find him safely. Noah nods sadly. “Yeah, I’ll see you, okay?” And with that the older Stilinski walks away. “He’s not fine.” Issac whispers to the twins, both shake their heads, but are interrupted by coach walking up to them. “McCall.” Both twins look up but they both know coach is talking to Scott. “We need you on the team, okay? You know I can’t put you on the field next season if you don’t get your grades up.” Scott nods in agreement. “Yeah, I know, coach.” “All right.” Finnstock turns around to leave, but stops and faces the two players, mostly Scott. “I mean, I-i know I tell a lot, but it’s not like I hate you guys. Well, I kind of I hate, Greenberg. But, you know, that’s different. It’s Greenberg ”he chuckles, the three teens display small humorous smiles. “I’m just saying we… I need you on the team. Get your grades back up.” “I will.” The McCall boy tells him, and he means it, he’ll focus more on school work, find a better balance between the two side of his life. Coach walks out of the locker room after that. “Is that everyone?” Scott ask his sister and Issac. Both looking around the locker room to see they are I face the only three people left. “I think so.” Issac’s responses. The metal of Stiles sports locker clanks as Y/n watches her brother twist the door off his hinges. “I could have just dialled in his combination.” She says as she’s looking between the twisted door and her brother. Scott shrugs and smiles smugly. “Could have.” He reaches in and grabs Stiles shirt and one of his shoes. “You’re gonna find him by sent?” The Lahey boy asks. “We both are.” Scott tells him, handing the shoe for him to grab. “But how come you get his shirt and I get a shoe?” Issac complains, Scott looks up and sees Derek standing inside the locker room now, he grabs his sisters arm and slaps Isaac’s chest to get their attention, both looking up to see the man. “We need to talk.” Derek says looking between the three. Peter comes from behind a set of lockers to stand behind his nephew. “All of us.” Peter confirms. Shock, horror and confusion fill the twins. Issac has no idea who that is. “What the fuck?” Y/n mutters at the same time Scott says. “Holy shit.

“Shh.” Stiles tells the blonde girl who is whimpering in pain and fear. He tried to untie her, but the wires she’s tied to shock them both when he tried to bull them away from her arms. “They were trying to warn you.” Gerard tells the boy, as the man descends the stairs. “It’s an electrified.” He reached the bottom of the stairs, with a smug power hungry look. “What are you doing with them?” Stiles keeps his voice strong. “At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There’s no point in torturing them, they won’t give up Derek. The instinct to protect their Alpha’s too strong.” Gerard explains. “Okay. So what are you doing with me?” He afraid of the answer but he tried not to show it. “Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It’s pungent, you know? It’s more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried in the bottom of the sewer covered in decal matter and urine.” Gerard finds the boy amusing. “You do have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own.” The older Argent start, and walks closer to the boy. “Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?” Stiles would be lying if he said he was worried about what this man will go to, with Gerard it doesn’t matter if you’re supernatural or human, he’ll do whatever he pleases. “I think I might prefer more of a still life landscape, you know?” Stiles sees the man’s jaw tick. “What- what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room.” Gerard stops him there with a strong closed fist backhand, knocking the young boy to the floor. Before getting down to his level and delivering another punch to the boys face. And another punch and another punch. And another.

“What the hell is this?” Scott demands. “You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sheriff’s station.” Y/n frowns, if she remembered that night fully, she’d remember she already knew this. That she asked Derek to trust her, that is was all part of a bigger plan, that only worked if he didn’t know about it. But a traumatic head injury and a concerning amount of blood loss, she only remembered a a quarter of that night and most it being before she was knocked unconscious. “Okay, hold on. He- he threatened to kill my mom, attacked my sister and put her in the hospital. And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?” Issac looks to Y/n when she was mentioned with a questioning look, he has no idea what’s going on. “Yeah, a lot happened before you joined.” She told him nonchalantly. He nods. “I’m gonna go with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She’s gorgeous.” Peter says. “Shut up!” The twins and Derek shout at the older Hale. “Who is he?” Issac leans over and asks the two McCalls. “He’s Peter. Derek’s uncle.” Y/n fills him in on the basics while Scott fills him in on the rest. “Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat.” Peter holds up him hand in a wave. “Hi.” Issac nods with a sarcastic smirk. “That’s good to know.” “How is he alive?” The twins ask together. Derek sighs. “It’s a long story and the short version was he knew a way that could have possibly saved Jackson, but then I was told Jackson is dead.” He looks to his uncle, who looks disappointed. He has no idea why they’re here if Jackson is dead, but Peter insisted they all talk, because he said it wasn’t over. “Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Issac asked for the three teens. “Because if Jackson’s dead, it didn’t just happen. Gerard had a reason to wait it to happen.” Everyone looked confused by this. Derek turned to face his uncle. “But why?” He asked. Peter made his way further into the room. “Well, that’s exactly what we need to figure out.” Peter starts. He got too close and Y/n felt uneasy and took a step back without realizing she did, no one noticed except Derek who took his own step closer to the group on instinct. “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly.” He finished.

Chris went to knock on his daughter’s bedroom door, but paused when he noticed her and Gerard speaking in hushed whispers. “I saw the lights flicker.” He tells his father. “Probably just one of the guests getting comfortable downstairs.” Gerard tells Chris. Then looks down to Allison. “Get some sleep if you can. I have a feeling the next 24 hours are going to be eventful.” He gloats making his way to the door. Chris stops him by blocking the door placing his arm on the wall. “Are you gonna tell me what happened at the game?” Chris asks. “Didn’t you hear.” Gerard smiles. “We won.” Chris is angry. “I meant Jackson.” “So did I.” He tells him son and moves his arm out of the way and leaves. Chris walks further into his daughter’s room as she taking off her black gloves. “You need something?” She snarks. “I want you to steal aside and let us handle this.” An amused frown falls on her face. “You’re kidding, right?” Her father shakes his head. “One of your friends is dead.” Now she’s angry. “Because of Derek. How do you think Jackson became that thing in the first place? Kate, mom, Jackson,” “what about Scott?” Her father cuts off. “What if he dies too? Or what about Y/n, those two are a team wherever he goes he goes and visa versa. What if she dies. Or Stiles.” Allison thinks for a minute but she smiles not a happy one. “Since when did you care about Scott? And if Y/n and Stiles wanna get in the middle of this and they end up hurt or dead, that’s on them.” She tells him coldly. “I care about you.” Allison Scoffs, bored of this talk. “Really, dad. If you’re going to start quoting from the list of the top five things a parent can say to a child everyday, why don’t you start with, ‘I’m proud of you because I’m doing exactly what you wanted.’” She moves over to her bedside table. “No, Allison. You’re doing exactly what he wants. We all are.” He says the last part mostly to himself, but loud enough so his daughter can hear it too. “I’m tired. I just really want to pass out, okay?” He sighs, he was hoping to get through to her, but he has seemed to have to luck. “Fine. By the way don’t forget you owe me a new bow.” “And I knew crossbow.” He says holding up the crossbow he just broke. He throws it back in the table and walks out.

Melissa sneaks into to where Jackson’s body is laying in a thick black body bag. Part of her wants to turn and rub the other way, another part is curious. “Are we rent gonna do this?” She asks herself. She exhales and nods. “Yeah we’re really gonna do this.” She moves slowly to unzip the bag and open it up.

Sheriff Stilinski is standing in his son’s room, talking in the phone. “Yeah, I’m not finding any clues here. Listen, if he… if he shows up at the hospital— okay, thanks.” He hangs up the phone. As Stiles turns into his room. Noah hasn’t spotted his son yet. “Oh, come on, Stiles. Where the hell are you?” In the door way to his room Stiles stands there, split lip, bruised and cut cheek. “Right here.” He answers his father’s question. Noah sees the state his son is in and goes to examine. “It’s okay. Dad, it’s okay.” He tried to tell him. Noah grabs the boys face and turns it to get a better look. “Who did it?” Stiles sighs. “It’s okay. It was just a couple kids from the other team. They were really pissed about losing and I was.. I was mouthing off, you know. The next thing I know.” His dad cuts off his lie. “Who was it?” “Dad, I don’t know. I didn’t even see them really.” But the sheriff doesn’t care. “I want descriptions.” “Look, dad, come on. It’s not even that bad.” Noah didn’t care, he was so worried then his son shows up in this condition. Now he’s pissed. “I’m calling that school. I’m calling them and I’ll personally go down there, and I’m gonna pistol-whip these little bastards!” Stiles has had enough. “Dad! I just- I said I was okay.” At this Noah, takes a breaths and pulls his son in for a hug.

Peter, Derek, Issac and the twins walk through the front door of the Hal house, the twins phones going off. “Oh, thank god.” Y/n breaths out. “They found Stiles.” Scott tells the others. “Look, I told you, I looked everywhere.” Derek told his uncle tone bored. Peter moves up a few steps on the staircase. “You didn’t look here.” He informs him as he moves a board out of the way, reaches into the step and pulls something out. Y/n leans to the side trying to get a better look, not sure what he has in his hands. “What is that, a book?” The Alpha asks confused. Peter looks up almost offended. “No. It’s a laptop. What century are you living in?” He looks back to what has now been discovered as laptop and opens it up. No one looks impressed. “A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.” Peter stands from the stairs and moves to the living room Derek, Issac and Y/n following after. Scott’s phone rings and he turns the other way to answer it, before he joins the rest in the living room. “Hey, mom, I can’t talk right now.” He tells her. “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m so freaked out that I can barely talk either.” She shakes and bites her thumb nail. “What’s wrong?” “Something.. definitely something. I don’t know what, but I think you’re gonna want to see this for yourself.” She confesses, turning back to see Jackson in some type of kanima venom cocoon. “And bring Y/n, I don’t want you to splitting up right now.” Scott hangs up and moves into the other room. “We have to go.” Is all he says to his twin, and moves to exit the house. She goes to follow, worried about the urgency. When a hand wraps gently around her upper arm, looking over her shoulder she sees Derek standing there, concern written on his features. “Call me, if anything happens.” He tells her. She only nods in reply before she follows her brother. Derek turns back to Peter and Issac who are staring at him. “What?” He asks in his normal detached tone. “Nothing.” Issac says quickly and goes to follow Scott and Y/n. “Not nothing.” Peter says with his signature cocky smirk as he looks back at the computer. Derek deciding not to bite, doesn’t say anything.

Issac climbs into the backseat telling the twins he’s rather be with them. “What’s going on?” Y/n asks her brother, once they’ve started to drive. “I don’t know. Mom just said we needed to see something for ourselves and for you and I not to split up.” “Can’t say I disagree with that idea.” She says worriedly. Scott nodding. He could agree more.

Stiles lays on his stomach on his bed, blankly staring at the wall, the last week had taken a huge toll on him, the events at the station was bad enough, but being kidnapped and beaten by Gerard, and then let go, that alone felt like a whole new ball park of mind games, and then to think of a another string of lies in the already long lost of lies he’s told in the past few months. A knock sound from the other side of his bedroom door. “Dad, I said I’m fine.” He calls. Another knock forces the boy out of bed and swings the door open, expect it’s not his dad. It’s Lydia. “Hi.” She says softly. “Hi.” He never expected her to be here. The strawberry blonde looks like she’s about to start crying again. “I— your father let me in.” She told him. “He did?” The boy seems more shocked by that then her actually being here. She gives him a confused and maybe slight hurt look. “I mean, yeah, of course he did.” She tilts her head and looks at his injuries. “What happened to your—“ he waves her off as if it’s no big deal. “Oh, uh— yeah, no, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Do you want to come in?” He offers, stepping aside to let her in. Lydia doesn’t say anything, but accepts his offer. He closes the door and turns to face her, her back is to him and tears are about to flood over her water line. “How you doing?” He asks gently. “They won’t let me see him. I’m supposed to give him something.” She’s crying now. “He kept asking for it back.” She holds up the shirt more boys house key.

The twins and their mother stand around the table Jackson’s body is laying on, looking at the clear venomous goo surrounding his body, his neck and head on the outside of the cocoon type things. “What’s happening to him?” Scott asks like the woman will have anymore of an answer to this then him. “I thought that you were gonna tell me. Is it bad?” She asks her son. “We’ll it doesn’t look good.” Her daughter pipes in. Jackson’s body move. “Whoa!” They all yelp, and Jump back. “No.” Is all that comes out of the younger McCalls mouth. “Um, mom, could you zip it up, please.” Scott almost begs. The woman hesitates for a moment not looking happy about having to go near the body again, but she moves and zips it up, but panics the whole time she’s zipping the bag. “Okay. Okay. Okay. Her we go.” The zipper gets stuck just under the boys chin and Melissa worked to fix it. The three teens behind her eyes go wide when the body moves again. It lifts his neck and hisses at the woman, his razor sharp teeth showing. “Mom, zip.” Scott says more urgently, not removing his eyes from the body. “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” It’s starts to shake and hiss again. “Zip! Zip! Zip!” The teenagers all exclaim. Finally the bag is zipped all the way up. “I know I said it before, but. No.” Y/name voice is shaky. They all stand there looking at the closed body bag, all to scared to move. Y/n takes a deep calming breath and pulls out her phone to call Derek and explain what had just happened, hoping maybe they could find something in the files Peter has.

In the basement of the Argent house hold, Chris stands in front of the betas, still tied to live wires. He moves his hand to the dial controlling to electrical wiring their contracted to. “You know, my family’s done this for a long time. Long enough to learn things like how a certain level of electric current can keep you from transforming. At another level, you can’t heal. A few amps higher, and no heightened strength. That kind of scientific accuracy—it makes you wonder where the line between the natural and supernatural really exists.” Both betas are crying and struggling while Chris is speaking, waiting for him to do something. His hand gets ready to turn the dial. “It’s when lines like that blur… you sometimes find yourself surprised by which side you end up on.” He doesn’t move the dial. He walks out.

Stiles sit down next to Lydia on his bed, tears still escaping the Martin girls eyes. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t have any tissues, so, uh..” he hands her a roll of toilet paper. “That’s fine.” She tries to smile. “God, I’m such a mess.” She wipes her eyes. A phone chimes of under her, he picks it up and hands it over to Stiles. “You have 17 missed messages between Scott and Y/n.” Stiles nods. “I know.” This shocks the girl. “Are you ignoring them?” “No. No, not really.” He’s not really sure. Tonight’s just been a lot. He knows his friends are worried, but he can’t bring himself to to answer. Lydia sees a Macy’s bag and his desk full of random stuff and decides to look at it. She finds earrings and bracelets and necklaces. “Why do you have women’s jewelry?” She asks with an amused smile. “Oh—“ he panics. “It’s Y/n’s” he tries to play it off, not wanting her to know the real answer. Lydia just shakes her head. “Y/n doesn’t really wear jewelry and when she does it’s more subtle. Wanna try again?” Stiles sighs, knowing he’s been caught, knowing Lydia would know that every small detail of her best friend. “Its just stuff that I bought, you know. For your birthday.” He admits. Lydia frowns and presses her lips into a thin line. “For me?” “Yeah, I just— I kind of didn’t know what to get you, so I just bought you like, a bunch of stuff. Like, a lot of stuff. And I know I could have just asked Y/n she would have know what you wanted or needed or what you already had, but I wanted to find something myself, and I got carried away, like really carried away.” He rambles and she continues to look over the things. “You know, I was gonna return anything that I didn’t give you.” Lydia can’t help the sweet laugh. She’s not use to this kind of behaviour towards her from a boy. Then she looks unimpressed by the box sitting in the floor next to everything else. “A flat screen tv?” He points to it. “Yeah, that I’m definitely returning.” They both laugh. Lydia’s phone beeps and she pulls it out to look, her smile vanishing from her face as she rushed to Stiles’ side showing him the phone. “You’re gonna want to read this.” He does, and it’s not anything good.

Derek and Peter are leaned over the laptop, looking over all the records, Peter moved. “They say he’s in some kind of transparent casing made from the venom coming out of his claws.” He moves his phone away from his mouth to fill in Peter. “That sounds officially terrifying.” Peter remarks. “It passed terrifying a little while ago.” Y/n mutters after hearing Peter’s comment. “They also say he’s starting to move.” He recites, what Scott said down the line. Derek puts Y/n on speaker and places the phone down on the table him and Peter are researching on. “Okay, look, I think I found something. Looks like what you’re seeing from Jackson is just the kanimas beta shape.” Peter tapes a few keys. “Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?” Peter leans back in his chair further from the screen. “Bigger and badder.” He says. “What do you mean?” Y/n’s voice sounds from the small device on the table. “He’s turning into that? That has wings.” Derek says out loud. “No.” Y/n speaks. At the same time Peter says. “I can see that.” Derek picks up the phone and speaks into it. “Guys, bring him us.” Scott grabs the phone from Y/n when the body starts moving again, more than the last time. It’s waking up. “I’m not sure if we have time for that.” A hand inside the bag moves. “Oh! No.” Y/n slightly panics. Peter looks more in the computer trying to find anything else. “Look, somebody actually made an animation of it. Maybe it’s less frightening if we—“ he taps the keys and the screen starts screeching, Derek backs up quickly, startled by the noise and the so called animation, Peter shuts the laptop just as fast. “Nope, not at all. We should probably meet them halfway.” Peter says looking to his nephew. Derek puts the phone back to his ear. “Scott, get him out of there there— go now.” The man demands. As the two Hale men walk fast out of the house to meet up with them. “Derek, we need Lydia.” Peter tells him as they’re making their way out. “There’s no time for—“ Derek is cut off. “That’s the problem. We’re rushing. We’re moving too fast. And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard’s crosshairs.” He tries to talk the Alpha into slowing down. “If I get the chance to kill Jackson, I’m taking it.” Derek declares, and moves out the front door.

Gerard goes into Allison room to wake her. “Wake up, sweetheart. It’s starting.” He tells her. He killed Jackson because he needed the kanima to be stronger. So now they have to head to the hospital and retrieve him.

Scott, Issac and Y/n carry Jackson’s body out the back of the hospital. Scott has his head, space has his feet and Y/n have his mid section. Scott stops them when he sees hunters coming into the hospital. “Okay, go, go, go, go, go.” The McCall boy rushes out. They carry his body through the parking lot at the the car, Issac and Scott slip dropping there ends, leaving Y/n with all the weight doesn’t end well when she lands on her knees with the body rest on them. “Really, you two? With the super strength? I would have expected me to drop him, but both of you?” She whisper yells. She looks between them with a bitchy sarcastic ‘really?’ Look. “Sorry.” They both whisper. Going to pick up the body, they freeze when a black SUV pulls up and blinds them with their headlight. The car comes to stop and Chris Argent steps out glaring at them. “You’re alone.” Scott states. “More than you know.” He then kind of sadly. “What do you want?” Y/n asks. He lets out a heavy exhale, before answering the question. “We don’t have much in common, Scott. But at the moment, we all have a common enemy.” Chris explains. Scott looks down at Jackson’s body then back to the Argent man. “That’s why we’re trying to get him out of here.” “He’s not talking about Jackson, Scott.” His sister tells him, while not taking her eyes off Allison’s dad.

Stiles is still looking at the message on his phone then looks to the strawberry blonde. “How much do you know about this stuff?” He asks her. Pieces. Half of it’s like a dream.” She says quietly. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but she knows something going on with her. “Yeah, well, guess what? The other half is like a freaking nightmare.” He raises his voice. “I don’t care.” The Martin girl says with conviction. “I can help him.” She adds. Stiles shakes his head, what is with the sacrificial women in his life. He can really see why Y/n and Lydia are friends. “See, that’s the problem. You don’t care about getting hurt. But you know how I’ll feel? I’ll be devastated. And if you die I will literally go out of my frickin’ mind. You see, death doesn’t just happen to you Lydia, it happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh?” He moves closer to her, a little too quick and slightly angry. Lydia takes a step back. “And look at my face, huh? Come on, you actually this was meant to hurt me?” When he sees the looks on her face, sad, concerned, worried, he realizes he may have taken it a little far and back up. “Um.. I’m so sorry.” He says softly. “It’s okay.” She squeaks out, the turns to leave the room. “I’ll find him myself.” “Hey, Lydia, wait.” He calls out defeated.

“Gerard has twisted his way his way into Allison’s head in the same way he did with Kate. And I’m losing her. And I know you’re losing her too.” Chris tells the group. “You’re right.” Scott says then looks to his sister, who nods, giving him the okay. “So can you trust us to fix this?” Scott asks. Chris thinks for a moment, before he nods. “Then can you let us go?” Scott’s asks. “No.” The teens looks worried until Chris speaks again. “My cars faster.” The load Jackson into the truck of Argents SUV and all climb in, Chris wastes no time peeling out the parking lot.

Stiles sits at his desk, turning his phone around in his hands, debating texting or calling his friends back, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Noah comes in slowly, watching his son. “She left, huh?” He asked the young boy. “Yeah.” Noah nods. “So was there, uh…” he paused and shrugged looking for the right thing to ask. “Anything there?” He went with. Stiles shakes his head. “No. No, she’s in love with someone else.” Maybe it was time to put that 10 year long crush to rest. “Ah.” The older Stilinski man walks into the room and takes a seat at the desk with his son. “Listen.. I know that getting beaten up, and with what happened to Jackson, has gotten you pretty shaken.” Noah starts. If only the man knew the rest. “But be happy about one thing. The game. You were amazing.” He smiles, finally getting a small smile from his son. “Thanks, dad.” Stiles tried to brush off but Noah wasn’t going end there. “No, I mean it. Look, it was pretty much over. And then you got the ball, and you started running. You scored, and the tide just turned. And you scored again and again. You weren’t just MVP of the game. You were a hero.” Thats where Stiles deflated and she shakes his head. “No, I’m not a hero, dad.” “You weren’t last night.” He pats his son on the back and walks out of his room, leaving the boy to think over some things. “I’m not a hero.” Stiles mutters to himself.

Chris, Issac and the twins pull up to a warehouse looking building. The four climbing out of the vehicle. Once Y/n stepped onto the asphalt and looked into the dark night at the warehouse a feeling of pure dread, came over her, it was so strong it was suffocating, her breathing became shaky, and everything in her being was telling her to not step foot in there. Leave the area immediately. Obviously she wasn’t doing by that.. Issac peers over into the trunk to look at the bag. “I think he stopped moving.” Issac told them. Scott looked to Issac, Y/n couldn’t look away from the building. She felt eyes in her and turned to see Chris looking at her. “Where’s Derek?” He asked. She shakes her head. They hear movement and turn back to the alleyway. Seeing someone running at them on all fours. Y/n jumped. Once they got closer they flipped and landed in a kneeling position, Derek looks up with glowing red eyes. And the McCall girl cant fight off the eye roll. Peter standing behind the bridge also rolls his eyes. “Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance.” Derek stands and glares at Chris. “I’m here for Jackson. Not you.” Chris tells the Alpha. Derek doesn’t look to convinced. “Somehow I don’t find that very comforting.” He looks over to the teens. “Get him inside.” Scott and Issac nod and go to grab Jackson, Y/n just stares at the building, she’s not helping the dumbasses who pretty much dropped a body on her the last time she helped with that. I side the warehouse the guys place Jackson’s body on the cement flooring, the feeling clawing its way deeper in Y/n only got stronger inside the warehouse. “Where are they?” Scott’s voice interrupts the girls thoughts. Derek looks around, he wants aware anyone else was coming. “Who?” Scott looks at Derek like it should be obvious. “Peter and Lydia.” He goes unanswered, as Peter peaks around corner and Derek steps over the body bag and moves to unzip it. “Whoa, no, no, wait a second.” Y/n panics. “Hold on a second.” Scott calls. Derek ignores and continues to unzip the black bag. “You said you knew how to save him.” Scott protests. “We’re past that.” Derek tells the boy dismissively. “What about—“ The Alpha cuts him off. “Think about it, Scott. Gerard controls him now. He’s turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog.” Chris is looking pissed and concerned and confused by the what he’s hearing Derek say. “And he set all of this in motion so that Jackson could get even bigger and more powerful.” Derek finishes. “No.” They all turn to Chris. “No, he wouldn’t do that. If Jackson’s a dog, he’s turning rabid, and my father wouldn’t let a rabid dog live.” He fights. “Of course not.” Gerard’s voice comes from behind them, all turning to see the man standing there. Derek steps In front of Y/n, but not blocking the McCall girls view. “Anything that dangerous, that out of control… is better off dead.” Derek retracts his claws and aims his arm down the plunge them into Jackson’s chest, but as he’s about to make contact Jackson’s eyes shoot open and he stabs his own venomous claws into the Alphas chest. Jackson stands up and throws Derek 20 feet back, leaving the rest of group gasping in horror, as Gerard stands back with an evil smile. “Well done to the last, Scott.” He starts slowly walking towards the teens and his son, as he continues to speak. “Like the concerned friend you are, brought Jackson to Derek to save him. You just didn’t realize that you were also bringing Derek to me.” The whizzing sounds is hear throughout the building and Scott ducks out of the way, Issac isn’t fast enough and get an arrow to his shoulder. Scott’s looking back in the direction of the arrow he sees a woman is black duck about around the wall. “Allison?” Scott and Y/n move quickly to help lift Issac and move him out of the way.

Chris pulls out his gun and shoots Jackson in the chest. He shifts into full kanima while Chris take shot after shot on the monster. As he’s reloads the kanima jumps on the hood of the vehicle and wraps his tail around the barrel of the gun, throwing it out of the Argent man’s hand, Chris run and the kanima follows, the hunter pulls out a knife and goes to attack by his pushed by the creature, Derek jumps in front of the reptile and growls, hissing back they crouch in a sort of face off. Scott and Issac transform and take out their claws. Y/n feels out of place and useless. You got a hunter, and three were wolves, and then their human. Looking around, she sees a 2x4 on the ground and picks it up holding it like a baseball bat. She may be a small human, but she wasn’t just going to stand there and watch. Chris stands off to the side out of the way as well, watching the three werewolves fight the kanima. Not entirely sure who’s winning. The kanima advance in the McCall girl and she swings with every bit of upper body strength she has knocking the creature in the side of the head it’s stunned for a moment, but effort it can come at her again, Scott digs his claws into its side and back and tosses the thing back to the centre with the others, as their fighting continues. The wolves seem to be getting asses kicked, they put up a good fight. Derek gets thrown in the cement wall, but he comes back punching the kanima in the in face, Issac comes in to help, be he’s tossed across the area their in. Peter winces at the sight from his hiding place. Scott’s runs up from behind and kicks Jackson in the back, sending him to a wall, he’s then kicked across the room. Derek tried to re enter the fight but he’s slashed with the things claws. Issac gets off the ground to help, but is stopped by Allison right in front of him with two hunting knifes she doesn’t hesitate to start slashing the blades into the Lahey boys stomach, he throws a punch and she ducks, she moves behind him and stabs both blades into the bits back. She moves to her next target who just so happens to be Derek. Y/n comes up behind her friend quickly. Not sure she can be called a friend anymore the McCall girl thinks to herself. Thankfully she’s quick enough the Argent girl doesn’t see her until the back of her knee is kicked out from behind her and falls to her knees on the ground, she makes quick work to get up and faces the H/C haired girl. “You need to stay out of it.” She half spits half pleads. “Not gonna happen.” Y/n goes to punch her but is stopped when Allison swipes her leg out, Y/n falling on her back, she coughs the wind was knocked out of her, Allison stands up and makes another move towards Derek, this time she’s haunted by Scott. “No, Allison!” He yells when the girl raises her knife above her head. The kanima sneaks up behind her, grabbing her wrists causing her to drop the knives, then it’s scaled hand wraps around her neck, the knaima stopping her from killing Derek. Y/n takes the opportunity of the creatures distraction to quickly and quietly get up from the ground and move closer to her brother. Gerard walks out from the shadows and into view. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He tells his granddaughter, everyone looks shocked. The twins share a look, this might be the final act in the plan, but with all the unplanned twists and turns so far they can’t be 100 percent. But they feel like this is it. “What are you doing?” Allison asks shakily. Gerard and Scott make eye contact and a small nod from the boy let his sister know, this is it. “He’s doing what he came here to do.” Scott speaks.

Gerard looks shocked. “Then you know.” Allison none the wiser. “What’s he talking about?” Gerard looks to his granddaughter daughter then back towards the twins, but he speaks to Scott. “It was the night outside the hospital, wasn’t it, when I threatened your mother. I knew I saw something in your eyes. You could smell it, couldn’t you?” He asked. Issac that last part Issac caught on to both what he had said and now to the smell. “He’s dying.” Issac states. Y/n doesn’t take her eyes off the older man. “I am.” Her confirms. “I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn’t have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does.” At that the older Argent looks down at Derek still lying on the floor, triggering his healing process, it’s quicker than at the station, but he can still feel the toxins spreading. Greased senses the kanimas grip loosen on his granddaughter and looks to the creature angrily, the grip tightens once again and she gasps for air. Both Scott and Chris take a step forward, wanting to help. “You monster.” Chris grits through his teeth at his father. “Not yet.” “What are you doing?” Allison cries. The kanimas grip tightens more. “You’ll kill her too?” Chris asks his father. “When it comes to survival, I’d kill my own son! Scott.” Scott hesitates before his human features come back, and takes slow steps towards Derek. Y/n knows what gonna happen, and she’s praying this works, but right now she’s terrified for if it doesn’t. Her breathing becomes shaky and her heart rate picks up, she looks between her brother and Derek and Gerard. Scott grabs the back of Derek’s neck, Allison gasps and Y/n squeezes her eyes closed for a moment before looking back. Scott lifts Derek off the floor. “Scott, don’t. You know that he’s gonna kill me right after.” Derek tells the boy. Tears fill the McCall girls eyes, but she doesn’t allow any to fall. The only thing going through her head is ‘please work’ Over and over. “He’ll be an Alpha.” Derek adds. “That’s true. But I think he already knows that, don’t you, Scott? He knows that the ultimate prize is Allison. Do this small task for me, and they can be together. You are the only piece that doesn’t fit, Derek. And in case you haven’t learned yet, there is just no competing with young love.” He explains, and takes off his suit jacket. “Scott, don’t!” Derek’s breathing is heavy as he tries to heal faster. “Don’t!” “I’m sorry!” Scott tells the man. “But I have to. He adds while taking Derek closer to Gerard. The older man rolls up his sleeve, Scott digs his claws into Derek neck so the reflex is extent his fangs, Gerard holds his arm to the Alpha. Chris is standing there shocked still trying to take in the information, Allison is crying and shaking her head. Y/n is having troubles getting her breathing to stay under control. Issac can’t look away. Gerard places his arm in Derek’s mouth and he bites down. Allison turns her head, Y/n holds her breath and the reflex to cover her eyes wins. Gerard screams in pain, his screaming stops and Y/n looks back. The older man pulls his arm from the werewolf’s fangs. Scott drops Derek and backs up. Gerard holds his arm up in some creepy victory. “What the—“ Peter says, still from his hiding. Scott picks Derek up from the ground and helps him stand, then moves to the other side of his sister, both men still slightly places in front of her.

Gerard’s bite starts pouring out black blood, his son looks overly confused at this, never having seen something like that happen, the twins look at each other, shocked and impressed. “What?” The older man asks when he notices the different way he’s being looked at, before losing his arm and looking at the mass amounts of black blood. “What is this? What did you do? He asks the twins who wear small proud smirks. Derek looks at the two McCalls wondering the same thing. “Everyone said Gerard always had a plan.” Scott tells Derek. “We had a plan too.” Y/n says to Gerard. At this the oldest Argent seems to understand something, and pulls out the silver tin he keeps his pills in, opening the lid and dumps the contents out in the palm of his hand. “No! No! No!” He repeats. “See Scott, could smell it and of course if he knows I know. We didn’t think much at first, honestly we didn’t care that you were dying. Until things started to progress and you started getting completely power hungry.” Y/n starts. “So when you were so focused on Derek’s whereabouts, that you needed me, that you used Allison to get me to help, we knew something was up and not just the normal hunter business.” Scott puts in. “If it was about some family business, whipping out the supernatural, you would have started with wanting to find his betas, because that would have been the way to get to him, not a couple of teenagers. You needed Derek for another purpose. And I will admit it look us longer to think of any possible reason, until we thought back to you being sick. And your right science doesn’t have a cure, and there’s no way you of all people would accept that.” Scott nods at what his sister said. “So, you were gonna get the bite of an Alpha, then because that wasn’t enough you were gonna become the Alpha.” Derek looks between the twins shocked, but now understanding why she asked him to trust her. It was all part of a plan, that they had cooked up together. “Now, we weren’t 100 percent sure that’s the route you were going to take, but we decided we needed to take precautions, just incase.” Y/n finishes. Gerard has officially caught on and crushes the pills in his hand, black dust falling. “Mountain ash!” He exclaims. Black blood starts to leak from the man’s nose, his eyes and his ears before he falls to his knees and pukes up so much black blood it’s terrifying, then collapses to the flooor completely. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek asks the McCalls. “Because you might be an alpha, but you’re not mine.” The boy states. “A nicer way of answering that question. Is if you had of known, you might not have put up as much of a fight as you normally would, and we didn’t want to risk him figuring it out. None of us thought about him using the kanima just to render you weaker, though.” Y/n tells the Alpha. Gerard spits up more blackness and yells at the kanima. “Kill them! Kill them all!” The kanima releases Allison as it looks to its master, giving the Argent girl enough time to elbow it in the face and duck away from the thing, before it can go after her, tires squealing gets everyone attention as the familiar powder blue jeep comes into their sight, hitting the kanima. It lets out a painful roar. “Did I get him.” Stiles asks looking out the passenger window to his friends. All the twins can do is smile. It’s short lived. When the monster busts in the hood of the jeep. Lydia screams and climbs out of the vehicle. “Whoa!” Stiles exclaims as the kanima hisses. He lets out a scream of his own and follows Lydia out of the passenger door and runs to Scott and Y/n as Lydia stops in front of the kanima. “Jackson.” The kanima stands up and is an inch away from her. And she hold up his house key. “Lydia!” Stiles and Y/n shout and both make their way to the girl but are stopped my Scott and Derek.

The kanima stops, and looks at the key, it kind flashes back to the night he gave it to the girl. It was a happy moment. It was Jackson’s connection to human. The scales start to disappear and Jackson starts to become himself again. Jackson takes a few steps back, slowly coming to. Derek sees Peter, and his eyes flash red as both him and Peter run to Jackson. Derek inserting his claws into the boys stomach and Peter’s into the boys back. The teens are shocked and Y/n’s hand cover her mouth. They removed their claws and step away, as Jackson’s body becomes weak and starts to fall to the ground, Lydia catches him. Derek places a comforting hand on Issac’s shoulder as the boy backs up closer to the Alpha. “Do you—“ Jackson starts to whisper to Lydia. “Do you still…” the strawberry blonde cuts him off knowing what he’s trying to ask her. “I do. I do still love you.” She tells him, nodding truthfully. “I do, I do still love you. I do.” She repeats. That seems to be peaceful for the whittmore boy, because after she confesses his heart stops and the key falls from his hand. Lydia sits there and holds the boy, sobbing. Gerard comes too, angry that another thing he put in place as fail, his breathing is fast and angry. He pulls a gun and he shoots off four rounds, seemingly missing, everyone ducks and gasps. Y/n’s hand shoots to her torso, she expected agonizing pain, but it more felt like a jolt the shock and adrenaline kicked in faster then her brain even realized what had happened. She looks down at where her hand is placed just under her bra line and pulls it away, her hand is covered in warm dark red blood and sees blood spreading through her baby blue top. “Scott.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and if it wasn’t for the super hearing, she would have gone unheard. The three werewolves would had heard her, turned, all their eyes were wide in horror and the two younger ones were frozen by the sight. Y/n felt her body go numb and her knees gave out from under her, before she made contact with the cement, Derek had rushed from in front of her and catching her limp body and guided them both to the floor. The darkness was taking over quicker then she thought it would have, everything was blurry, voices were muffled, she picked up on some screaming, someone yelling to call 9-1-1. Someone asking what they should do. She heard someone telling her to stay with them. A few warm drops were felt on the side of her face. Someone was holding her really tight, but she couldn’t say or do anything. she could feel the cold washing over her. For a moment she was able to open and focus her eyes enough, to see Chris on the phone, her brother was sitting next to her holding her hand tears falling from his cheeks, stiles was holding Lydia as she cried. Derek. That’s who was holding her to tight. She felt heavy only for a second, if she had of been fully aware she would have noticed the confused looks on everyone’s face. Cause in the moment she felt heavy, they all felt calm, they didn’t feel the fear or overly crushing sadness of the soon front of them, they didn’t feel good, but their emotions seemed to have stilled for only a few moments. But then she felt light, every light and they felt the emotions come crashing back. “What the hell was that?” Issac asked. Everyone shaking their heads. Expect for Stiles. It was weird that he would remember at a a time like this. “Ambulance is 20 minutes out.” Chris tells them. “She doesn’t have 20 minutes.” Scott yells. He could hear that her heart beat was barely even there. Derek picks the girl up. “We can get there faster.” He says looking to Argent who nods. The two men and Scott rush out. Stiles telling them he’ll meet them at the hospital, signalling Issac to follow him.

Outside Chris gets behind the wheel, Scott helps Derek get himself and Y/n into the backseat. Then Scott jumps into the passenger seat, before Scott’s door is even closed Chris floors the gas. Scott turns in his seat and watches his sister lay there pale beyond belief, bleeding and unconscious, he’s focusing on her heart beat and it seems to only be getting slower, he has to really listen just to hear the faintest of beats. Derek is applying pressure to the wound that’s placed in between her rib cage. “Is your mom working tonight?” Chris asks the boy. “Scott!” He yells when he goes unanswered. “No. No. Crap I should call her.” He starts to make shaky moves for his phone. “No.” Derek says from the back. Scott turns around horrified at what this man’s reasoning could be, and Chris gives a questioning look from the review mirror. It turns to almost fear like when he sees the torn look on the Alphas face, the gut wrenching look of devastation covers Derek’s expression, and Chris knows that look, He knows it all to well, but it seems the teen wolf sitting next to Chris hasn’t picked up on the fact that his sister’s heart has stopped. “What do you mean, no?” Scott says still haven’t figured it out. A thought, a memory more like it enters the Alphas mind out of no where, he didn’t understand it then and he doesn’t understand it now, but he’s going with it, if there’s even a chance the lifeless girl in his lap isn’t gone for good, he’s going with it. “Chris when we get there I need you to go in. Ask for Dr. Fell.” The Argent man frowns in question. “She was the doctor who treated Y/n four days ago. I thought it was weird but she was very adamant on if anything happened in the next week that she needed to be the one to treat her again. I’m not entirely sure why. But..” he started. Chris pulls out his phone and does a search, being a werewolf hunter you gotta have resources to find who ever whenever, he thinks that will come in handy now too. It doesn’t take long to find the only Dr. Fell in beacon hill and attached is her phone number. He calls. It goes unanswered. He calls again. He calls three more times before a woman on the other end picks up. Chris explains all the information he has, she worked on the girl and girl is.. he looks to Scott before he tells the woman on the line what Scott has failed to pick up on. She instructs them to meet her at the far back entrance of the hospital. And to tell no one else they are here and that Y/n is here. When parking the SUV where they were told, they’re met by the tall burnette woman and she has a metal slab table waiting. Chris and Scott jump out and help Derek get the McCall girl out of the car and on to the table. “How long has it been since her heart stopped?” Meredith asks. “Ten minutes.” Derek tells her. “Okay, follow me.” They move through the empty back halls and move to a service elevator. Staff only she hits the button for the basement. The morgue. When the doors open she peeks her head out to thankfully find the alls empty. They move past the morgue and to one of the empty rooms they use when family member comes it identify a body. And places a the paper in the note slot to indicate this room is occupied. “What the hell is going?” Scott asks the woman. Meredith looks between the three and the deceased girl, trying to find an easy way to say this, she’s been through this before, actually this situation is very similar to the previous one the only difference is the death between the two. “He asked a question!” Chris demanded. “What is going on, why come back here, why not inform anyone she is dead, because it’s 20 minutes now, she’s gone.” The older man adds. He doesn’t know what’s coming, but from the conflicted look on the doctors face, he’s knows something is off and something is coming.

Scott stands there refusing to look at his sister, he can’t, he can’t see her like this, the tears are already there if he looks at her or listens and finds nothing like he knows he will, he will lose it, he can’t bare the thought of living in a world without his sister, his twin, his best friend, his literal biological other half, he does look to Derek it seems to be out of habit, but Derek hasn’t taken his eyes off the girl, hasn’t let go of her hand since they got into this room, he thinks the look of saddened agony on the man’s face should come as a surprise, and if this was anyone else he would be, but it’s Y/n. And even Scott and his clueless ways knows that his sister isn’t just anyone to Derek Hale. “Because she’ll wake up.” The woman said. All three sets of eyes snapped to the her, in total confusion. The voice of reason being Chris in this moment spoke up. “What are you talking about?” Meredith took a breath before she explained. She looked at Derek when she did. “When you brought her in even just from a glance I could see her injury was severe head trauma, but the CT scan showed it was worse a lot worse. It showed a cerebral hemorrhage. Bleeding on the brain. It was a bad bleed and her body was far too weak to operate, she would have never made it off that table.” The frowns on the men’s faces only deepened. All thinking the same thing. If her injuries were as bad as they were being told how was she okay for the past few days. “I don’t understand.” Scott sniffled. She was okay, she came home the very next morning, she was at school and dealing with their hunter plan, she was 100% herself. Her features softened at the boys sadness and confusion. “I couldn’t let her die. I— I helped her. She needed my help.” She continued, her defense was cut off. “What did you do?” Derek demanded through gritted teeth. “I healed her without a risky surgery she wouldn’t have made it through.” She took another deep breath before finally telling them what she had done. “I gave her vampire blood, it has supernatural healing abilities, it healed the bleed and she was as good as new, like nothing even happened. She was perfectly okay.” “Vampires are myths.” Chris declared. “Yeah, so are werewolves and kanimas, but here we are.” The woman shot back. “But you said she’d wake up. How?” The older McCall twin asked. “She died. Within a window. Normally Vampire blood is in the body for 24 hours. If it was from an ordinary vampire, but the vials I have are from a much older much more powerful one, that’s in the body for a week.” They still didn’t understand fully, still trying to process another mythical supernatural creature was actually real. “So, she’ll wake up and she’ll be okay?” Scott asked hopeful but hesitant and still confused. “Yes, she’ll wake up, but-“ “but what?” Derek demanded cutting her off, he was done with the sugar coating and the way she danced around the topic. “She’ll wake up, but? But what? Just spit it out already!” She nodded. “If you die with vampire blood in your system, you become a vampire.” She ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. Chris, Scott and Derek’s eyes all go wide, neither knowing how to process that. “She going to wake up a vampire.” Derek questions, a spark of hope shoots through him that she’s not actually gone for good, but he knows the girl enough to know she doesn’t want to add to the list of things she already is, and he knows she wouldn’t want this. “She’ll wake up in a transition period. To fully make the transition she has to feed on human blood, if she chooses to complete transition she will be okay. If she chooses not to, that being a vampire is something she can’t do, then she will die. For good this time. She has 24 hours from the time her heart stopped to feed. 20 but the time she wakes up, it will take a few hours for her to wake up.”

A moment of silence passes before the doctor nods and moves to leave the room, she stops when she reaches the door and looks back. “If she does decide to follow through with the transition, let me know, I have some friends who could help her adjust to the new life. I’m sorry.” And with that she leaves the three standing there, none knowing what to do.

Back in the warehouse Lydia stand from where Jackson lifeless body lay, and the dam breaks. The boy she loved is dead, her best friend was shot and could also be dead all this supernatural all at once everything is too much, she couldn’t stop the sobs or the tears even if she tried. Stiles moves to comfort the strawberry blonde, but his steps fall short before he reaches her when he hear claws scratching the cement and sees Jackson’s fingers move. Lydia hears it and turns back to the boy, and watches as his chest starts to rise and fall. The whitmore boys eyes shoot open, now no longer a reptile yellow, but a bright blue. The boy finally got what he wanted from the start, the kanima is gone and he has now become a wolf. He starts to stand slowly before shifted to werewolf and letting out a roar. Then he’s Jackson again. Lydia wastes no time and throwing herself into the boys arms, relieved. Hoping she might now lose anyone she loves tonight. And Stiles feels heartbroken again, because the girl he loves has run to another. Without a word the Stilinski boy climbs in his jeep and heads for the hospital, hoping better news will come from there, but seeing the injury his bestfriend endured, he’s fearful for what he may be walking into. He shoots a text to Scott letting him know he’s on his way, only to frown and his worry to grow when the reply is telling him to meet the McCall boy in the back of the hospital. The drive to the hospital was tense, Stiles didn’t know what was happening, he asked if Y/n was going to be okay hell he even asked the question “is she alive” but got no reply, which only further made his anxiety worse. He didn’t think he’d make it through if he heard the words he so feared he would hear. That one of his best friends was dead. When he finally pulled up to where he was told she was met by a sullen looking version of Scott. By his expression alone Stiles knew. But he couldn’t accept, not yet. He got out walked to his friend and stood silently for a minute. “Where is she?” Stiles finally asked. “She’s inside with Derek.” Scott answered before he turned to enter the building, the Stilinski boy following after him. The moment he saw the word ‘morgue’ his heart dropped. It broke. It stopped. Scott stopped at the door where his sister and Derek were before entering, he knew she’d wake up, that there was still a chance he wasn’t going to lose his little sister for good, but, still, seeing her, dead, no rise and fall of her chest, no sound of her heart beat. He couldn’t handle it, he knows he should have told Stiles what Meredith told them and he will, but he couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. The boys walked in and Scott went and sat back on the stool chair in the corner, where he had been sitting in deafening silence before Stiles showed up. Stiles thought he knew what he was expecting, but this, actually seeing this was worse. There, laying on a cold metal slab was his best friend, the once vibrate and sarcastic full of life girl he knew and grew up with was now a cold, pale, lifeless body. Her T-shirt that was light blue just a few hours ago, was now covered in a terrifying crimson red, the next thing he saw was Derek, sitting right against the table holding the girls hand, the fallen look on his face, he now noticed that the man hadn’t even looked up when they walked in, his eyes only trained on the girl laying in front of him, Stiles couldn’t miss that the man’s hands were also covered in blood. Her blood. On a normal day, and god he wished this was a normal day, he was have been making sarcastic remarks about Derek’s expression, but not in this situation. Not when even though he didn’t trust the man, he knew Derek was just as broken up about her death as the two boys. The tears fell, he didn’t sob but the tears just kept coming, he couldn’t take his eyes from Y/n. He wanted to, he wanted to wake up from this nightmare, he wanted her alive, no he needed her alive.

A heavy exhale broke the boy from his thoughts, he connected his eyes to Scott’s and saw a look he couldn’t place. “She’s going to wake up in a few hours.” Is all Scott said. Stiles looked back to Y/n then back to Scott. Stiles thinking the boy was in denial, he couldn’t blame him, he wanted to be as well. “Scott.” He started, but was cut off by a shake of the McCall boys head. “No, Stiles. Listen.” The boy went on to explain everything they had learned. A spark of hope flared in the boys chest then followed concern, because there was still a chance they would lose her, permanently this time, they would have to go through this pain again, but that time there would be no hope left. Selfishly, he wanted to beg her to go through with the transition so he didn’t have to lose her, but he knew he couldn’t. Stiles went in to explain what had happened before he showed and about Jackson being alive and now an actual werewolf, this confused everyone. Derek was only half paying attention, he was more tuned into to her non beating heart waiting to hear it start up again. Since he met the girl, she has been a constant, a safe place, he wasn’t sure what he felt he knew he liked it and wanted to keep that feeling but he could never place it, or maybe he could but couldn’t bring himself to admit it to himself, because then it became a real thing, but the moment he heard her voice shakily call for her brother in the warehouse, and saw the blood pooling around her shirt, his body and mind moved on instinct, he didn’t hesitate to catch her before her small body hit the cold ground, didn’t hesitate to try and apply pressure to the wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, he wasn’t concerned about the blood covering his clothes, his only thought was her. Now sitting here. Waiting, hoping the doctor was right that she will wake up, he admitted to himself, that he has feeling for her. He has since the moment she called him out for the empty threat against her life when he was dying from that wolfsbane bullet. He needs her to be okay.

The journey through the rift was disorienting, to say the least. One moment, we were facing off against a particularly nasty nest of vampires, and the next, we found ourselves in a world that defied all logic and reason. A world where we were nothing but characters in a television show, our lives scripted and our struggles merely entertainment for an audience.

As we navigated this strange alternate reality, trying to make sense of our surroundings, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. And then, I saw her. Y/N L/N, the character I had fought alongside countless times, brought to life by an actress named Alice Smith.

It was surreal, seeing her standing there, so vibrant and alive. And yet, there was a familiarity to her that transcended the boundaries of fiction. It was as if I had known her all my life, as if our souls were connected in a way I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

But it wasn’t until we found ourselves in the midst of a lavish Hollywood party, surrounded by people who bore an uncanny resemblance to our friends and enemies, that the truth began to dawn on me. In this reality, I was married to Alice Smith, the actress who played Y/N L/N

At first, I was in denial. How could I be married to someone I barely knew, someone who was nothing more than a figment of my imagination brought to life? But as we delved deeper into this alternate world, I couldn’t ignore the undeniable chemistry between us. It was as if fate itself had conspired to bring us together, across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

And yet, even as I tried to convince myself that my feelings for Alice were real, there was a nagging voice in the back of my mind. A voice that whispered of another reality, where Y/N L/N existed not as a character on a television screen, but as a living, breathing woman.

It wasn’t until we finally found our way back to our own reality that I realized the truth. My heart belonged to Y/N, not Alice. And I knew I had to tell her, no matter the consequences.

So, with a mixture of apprehension and determination, I sought her out, my heart pounding in my chest as I prepared to lay bare my soul.

“Y/N,” I began, my voice trembling with emotion as I looked into her eyes, “there’s something I need to tell you. Something… complicated.”

She regarded me with a curious expression, her eyes searching mine for any hint of what was to come. “Dean, what’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead, “In the other reality, the one we were just in, I was married to Alice Smith. But more than that, I… I realized I have feelings for you. For Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she processed my confession. “Dean, I… I don’t even know what to say. This is… a lot to take in.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of my words. “I know it’s a lot to process, but I needed to be honest with you. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.”

There was a moment of silence between us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. And then, to my surprise and relief, Y/N spoke, her voice soft but resolute, “Dean, I don’t fully understand what happened in that other reality, but I do know that I feel a connection to you, too. Maybe not exactly how it was there, but… there’s something here.”

My heart skipped a beat at her words, hope blossoming within me like a flower in bloom. “Y/N…”

Before I could say anything else, she closed the distance between us, her lips meeting mine in a tender kiss. It was like a dam breaking, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions that had been building between us for far too long.

As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I couldn’t help but smile, a sense of peace settling over me like a warm blanket on a cold night. “Wow,” was all I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled back, her eyes shining with a newfound certainty. “Wow, indeed.”

But our moment of bliss was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Sam, Crowley, and Castiel, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement.

“Uh, guys?” Sam started, his eyebrows raised in disbelief as he took in the scene before him.

Crowley, ever the wit, quipped, “Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes? Dean Winchester, the hopeless romantic.”

Castiel simply observed, his gaze shifting between us with a mixture of curiosity and understanding.

Y/N and I exchanged a sheepish glance before bursting into laughter, the tension of the moment dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

“Looks like we’ve got some explaining to do,” I said, already bracing myself for the inevitable barrage of questions and teasing.

MAKE NOTE!

Before I introduce you to your character, which will appear in a separate post, there are some things that I wish to make known in regard to my particular take on a reader insert and how updates will go.

Firstly, this rewrite will solely be presented on this tumblr blog, under The Marked Hunter / plaidandantlers as well as on Wattpad, under plaidandantlers. I have run into my stories being stolen in the past, and therefore, if you see the contents of my writing anywhere else without my notice or explicit permission, it is not mine, and I’d appreciate it if you'd let me know about it.

Secondly, fanfiction and the reader insert community has grown and changed so much since I initially started writing, and a big thing that I’ve personally noticed is word count. Personally, I have never really taken part in that. I will say that I have been known to expand, and over detail as some would say, in my old run. I tried to make each rewritten episode about five parts each if possible, with no telling if I were to add extra parts on the side or in between episodes. The parts themselves would be quite extensive! I can’t say that that is going to change this time around.

If this is not your preference, no worries. I know that tumblr isn’t the easiest platform to write upon, especially when it comes to reading fics, but regardless, we are so lucky there are so many talented writers here! There are so many to choose from. This is why this story is also available upon Wattpad, as I feel keeping the story altogether and not by separate post may be a bit easier upon. Have you seen my masterlist? Yikes.

Third, I welcome ideas, questions, and suggestions! My ask box will always be open. As for the first episode, I am regaining my footing and have plotted it out thoroughly. I perhaps won’t start taking requests for episodes until Wendigo at the earliest, but by all means, do not let that stop you if you have an idea for the Woman in White! I try to incorporate as much as I can, but sadly, please also note that not everything can be added into the story. I will either place them in separate series or one shot, or highly encourage you to attempt to write your own! Even if you don’t share it, these are so fun to make.

Fourth, and most importantly, I am not ashamed to admit that this reader insert originally derived from an original character concept into this wonderful fandom. This character means a lot to me, but in order to share my writing, it was most comfortable for me to convert it into a reader insert. There may be slip ups in regard to posting content. I dislike writing in the first person, and second point of view makes me feel that I’m tearing out chunks of information. I tend to write from a third point of view and edit it later, so be prepared to see some slip ups in regard to seeing OC names or third person pronouns. If you notice an error, please be kind in pointing it out to me so I can correct it.

This also being said, as the insert is based off of an original character, this particular series is intended for female audiences. In my old run, I had a lot of confusion as to whether it was gender neutral or if I could make a different version to fit a specific gender. While I would love to do that, I barely keep up with my project as is, and that would be a lot of extra work for me. I am absolutely not against it, but given my limited free time, I would like to present it as close to my original vision as possible. I have no intention to disappoint or offend anyone, therefore, if you would like to create your own version, or would like to take my writing and submit it under new pronouns, etc. I would be happy to see your vision come to life!

This reboot also features a face claim for the reader but is not necessary to use at all. I enjoy making edits from time to time and find that quite difficult to do when using an anonymous face. The original character’s face claim is Jenna Louise Coleman, and I will continue to be using her for various creations outside of the writing. There are even a couple that have already been posted in regard to her face claim being used in various episodes upon my page. Never fear, descriptions of your appearance will be made in multiple segments to make it individualized as much as possible. Examples such as (eye color), (hair color), etc. Therefore, if you see any mistakes in editing, such as described above, please be polite in correcting my errors!

This also being said, I welcome seeing edits and descriptions of your own fancasts as well. Genuinely, I will beg for it. I enjoy seeing how people envision themselves when reading or whatever face claim they cast as themselves when reading.

Lastly, it needs to be said. I claim nothing of the following project as my own except for the creation of (Y/N) Summers and the surrounding plotlines. Any other characters, settings, and plots belong to Supernatural and all other rightful owners! This is only meant for the intent of entertainment, and I shall never claim any of it as my own.

FAQ

Why is this referred to as The Marked Hunter and Tribus?

I guess you’ll just have to find out! There’s a reason for it, but of course, I don’t wish to disclose all my secrets right away. I wish to present this like a book as much as possible, and therefore some things need to be revealed in their own time.

Why is the first season titled ‘Enigma’?

This part I can easily share. An enigma is a person or thing that is mysterious, puzzling, or difficult to understand. I feel this particular word fits the reader and their plot for this season swimmingly. The reader is known for being after similar things the brothers are, but of course, is an individualized person, and will find things about themself along the way they have yet to grasp.

Will your series have the reader end up with Sam or Dean? Will they end up with (So and So)?

Only time will tell! I understand there are many Sam-Girls and Dean-Girls, trust me, but I want to keep a few surprises in store for all of you. You may end up with one, both, or even neither. Nothing is set in stone just yet. I will state that while there may be little implications here and there for your reading pleasure, a majority of the first season will feature no romance. Given this is the beginning of the show and my story, there is so much that can and needs to be introduced to use canonically as well as with your character, and I’d rather focus on the build up of friendships and plots before anything gets too deep and heavy.

Will you have a word count?

Briefly stated above, I do not have a word count and that is a personal preference. I often feel too pressured to hit a certain amount of words, or in different settings, feel I have written too much or too little. I want this to be a fun project, and I wish to present my writing and my ideas to the best of my abilities, regardless of how long or short a full rounded idea may come to be.

My initial plan is to make each episode about five parts each. I feel this breaks up the episodes nicely, and seeing as the length of each part is unknown, even more so. We’ll just have to wait and see! Please also note that I will also be making extra parts, backstories, original series, and imagines on the side. While having a basic outline, anything can happen. Little details don’t tend to speak to me until the time comes. Let’s see where this goes.

I have an idea for this episode, may I submit it? I have a headcanon for the reader’s backstory, may I share it? I have an edit I’d like to share with you, would you like to see?

Yes, yes, yes! Despite my basic outline and twists and turns along the way, the main concept is that this is made for you, and I’d love to see how people interpret my writing and their character. I value ideas, feedback, and anything else you wish to share with me. My ask box is always open. I have always loved interacting with my readers and answering their questions, it’s a majority of the reason why I keep coming back. Sadly, I may not be able to incorporate every idea I receive, but I most certainly will try my best!

Do you write anywhere else?

I only write on this tumblr blog and on Wattpad, under plaidandantlers. If you feel this story has been copied in any way without my knowledge of explicit permission, please let me know so I can handle it.

When will you start?

My goal is sometime within October. I am currently working on an outline of the first season as well as a rough draft of the first couple episodes being written out. September is a busy month for me, as well as the first few weeks of October, but I want to get this going as soon as possible. I appreciate and value your time and patience.

Will you have consistent updates? When will you post?

Undetermined at this time. I used to post every day and queue up some parts and pieces, but I felt my writing lacked when I tried to hold myself to a daily deadline. I am not going to hold myself to a deadline this time, but just hope and work hard on progressing in general. Updates may be every day, every couple days, every week, etc. but I am bound and determined to keep up with this project this time around.

I have a question not listed here!

I plan to make a FAQ page eventually, and as the series is ongoing, will obviously update it as necessary. Please submit any questions you ask and refer to the page often.

Soft hums echo along tile, filling an empty home as the door to the contained space eases to an open. Andrew steps out of his bathroom, steam rising from the entrapped room as he exits. The faint heat, along with the earthy smell that resided in his house, gave him comfort from the anxiety brought on by the evening’s plans. There was no way to get rid of the scent, not that he ever tried, or planned to for the matter.

Drying his hair, Andrew walks over to his dresser, taking a good look at his appearance in the mirror. He wasn’t one to pay much attention to them in the long run, but tonight nothing was more important than his presentation. After fixing himself up, he picks up the phone rested on the dresser's surface, greeted by tens of new messages. A small smile formed over his features. Despite him not thinking himself to be much of a looker, someone clearly thought otherwise. He briefly reads over the texts, paying mind only to the final one.

“I’m looking forward to meeting you. Still meeting up at your place, right?”

Andrew felt his smile grow more. He had heard dating apps were good for meeting new people quick, but he never expected it to be as simple as it was. Only a few brief chats with this person, and they were already agreeing to come to his home. Call him old fashioned, but he preferred a more in person approach. Talking to that one lonely person at a bar, friendly chats with frequent faces at the grocery store. It gave him a better read on them than texting could ever do, but he’d take what he could get. Laying on the charm, he replied with a simple: 

“Of course, see you at eight.”

-

Descending the flight of stairs, Andrew entered his living room to tidy up the place and do other things needed before his date arrived. There wasn’t a lot to clean, him being an exceptionally neat person, but you can never do enough on a first date. He picked up a pillow lying on the floor, knuckles scraping on thin imprints embedded in the wood. They cause him to stop for a moment, fingers straightening to sink into their crevices. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, skin pushing deeper into the marks, but he quickly snaps out of the trance they put him in. He needed to stay focused. Time to prepare was slowly running out. 

After setting the pillow with the rest of the group, he turned towards the coffee table, picking up a candle and a lighter. The candle was nearing its end, wax eaten away and wick short. He had used it often when he had guests, its scent being one of his favorites in the world. As he lights it, the candle’s flame dances wildly in an invisible wind – not even a chill running throughout the house. Ignoring the oddity, Andrew sits it back down, breathing in the smell of a forest’s facade.

Above where the table sat was a clock, time reading a quarter to seven. Deeming the living room to be in well enough shape, Andrew left to enter the kitchen. Like the previous room, the kitchen was practically spotless. After every meal, he cleaned from top to bottom without a miss. A clean home is a happy home, as some would say. He walks towards a cabinet, pulling out things necessary for dinner from its dressers. As he shuts them, he hears something so perfectly in time with the doors slam that would’ve fallen deaf on untrained ears.

It was subtle – like a faint cry on the breeze. He stood still, just to see if he would hear it again and his query was answered seconds after. He recognized it as a creak, coming from a door just to the right of the kitchen’s entrance. The groans continued, each followed by spaced silence until abruptly coming to a stop. He waits, thinking it was just the age of his home acting out – until the tapping begins.

The pattern starts as a one off, single beat drumming against the wood, but gradually dives into a rhythmic pulse. Paralyzed, Andrew stares at the door as it continues. He was alone – he should, have been alone and he had no pets to speak of. He could’ve guessed it to be a wild animal of sorts, but the sound originated too high up to be any cat or raccoon. Gathering his courage, he takes a step towards the door, and another, all until he reaches the door; notice coming to an end as his hand wraps around its handle. 

A dark stairwell greets him on the other side, only signs of life being his own heavy breaths. It was too dark to see past the bottom of the case and he had no flashlights on hand. Countless dangers lied in waiting, but he had to see what was down there. Remembering the candle, he retrieves it before descending the stairs, flames flickering quicker as he passes the basement’s threshold.

The room itself was in decent shape, from what the weak light gave off – not even a single sign of dust on any of the objects within. The earthy fragrance was stronger here than in any other room, overpowering the candle with ease. Andrew wandered blindly, searching for the source of the noise. Words stuck at the back of his throat, but he kept them swallowed. He raises the candle higher to get a wider range of vision, its light forming around a shadow inches away. Lips curl around sharp fangs, the figure taking a deep breath before blowing out the candle and tossing him into darkness. A voice reaches his ear, echoing as though it surrounded him. 

“3…”

The chill from earlier returns, only tenfold. His body becomes weak under the voice’s hold, yet he turns and bolts for the stairs. He races up them, enveloped by the kitchen light that almost blinds him. Not bothering to waste time in shutting the basement door, he runs to the front door, shaky hands fumbling to unlock it. The time now read thirty minutes from seven.

“2...” 

Andrew pulls on the knob, yet the door fails to open. He tries harder, arms feeling as though they’d pop from their sockets. After a few more attempts, he stops the fruitless endeavor, searching around for another means of escape. He looks towards the back of his home, fading light of day shining from the back door like a beacon of hope.

“1..”

He can hear footsteps, quickly ascending from the basement right as he barrels through the door. The outside air hits him hard as he runs, nearly knocking him off balance and into the arms of whatever was chasing him. It was a beautiful evening, one that he’d love nothing more than to share with his beloved. He reached the end of the backyard in a flash, but his speed was wasted on a few key moments. In the few moments it took to unlock the gate, the creature was at his heels, claws catching on his arm before he could get away. They disturb old scars as they make contact, the smell of copper now trailing behind him.

The gateway lead to an empty field, abandoned, and overtaken by wild greenery. Andrew had no neighbors, and so it was occupied by him most entirely. He enjoyed the secluded nature of the area, but in times like this it proved to be not the best choice in residence. He knew he wouldn’t find anyone for miles, nobody to hear him scream once they finally caught up. His heart raced faster at the thought, exhilaration coursing through his every vein. 

Hot on his trail, the creature noticeably slows as he does as well, wanting to prolong the chase as long as possible. As their shadow swallowed his, Andrew found it increasingly hard to continue on – and not just from fatigue. His lungs burned, muscles aching as he pushed them to their limit but he couldn’t. He had to keep going so that their attention remained on him alone. Heavy breaths at the back of his neck, imagining the lips they passed connected to his and teeth calming his flesh. They could catch up with ease, clearly teasing him in their hesitation and he just couldn’t take it anymore. Turning on his heels, Andrew stops completely in his tracks, arms wide to catch the body that crashed to his. Tough skin grazes against his own, giving off the pleasant scent of rain. The being raises their head as they speak once more, voice soft, yet followed with a low growl.

“You suck at this.”

Vacant eyes stare down at him, blank, yet ones he could get lost in for days. Andrew tries to keep a fearful expression on his face, but the sight of his beloved had him so giddy he couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Speak for yourself, Y/n.” He laughs. “The basement? That’s such a cliché.” 

If you had the requirements to do so, you would have rolled your eyes. It wasn’t your fault that he spoiled you to the point where you didn’t have to do much in terms of catching food. Sometimes, you just needed a harmless chase to calm your more animalistic needs and he was the only human around for you to do so with. He never minded the hunt, and in fact he enjoyed them as much as you did, if not more. There was nothing more soothing than the time spent in your arms, nothing that gave him more assurance in the fact of being your lover than calming your urges. 

You climb off of him, resting in the grass beside him. “Well I was bored..” You look down at your claws, traces of red lining their points. “and a bit hungry.” 

Andrew places his hand over yours, caressing your palm as he huddles into your warmth. “Don’t worry, my love. I have someone coming over in a bit that can hopefully satisfy both of your needs. Unfortunately, it seems that I’ll be needing to take another shower before they arrive.” 

The back of his shirt was covered in stains and dirt, arms slightly bruised and one bloodied. You grab the injured limb and pull it closer, licking the wound as both apology, and for a taste of what was soon to come. Andrew's face becomes flushed, heart beat skipping as you hold in gently in your talons. 

“C..come on now. Is that really how a monster treats their prey?” He loved, and was so used to the dynamic of hunter and hunted that you often had, that moments like this caught him off guard with ease. They made him fall even more in love with you than humanly possible, every token of affection like a prized treasure to him.

You place your forehead against his, muttering. “It’s how I treat the person I care for.”

It was hard to believe what he was hearing. A way of emotion came over him so strong, he believes for a second that this was all fantasy and he was still on the night that he met you, dying with his throat between your jaw. Even if that were true, from the words you spoke he could pass on without a single remorse.

“I love you too, Y/n. So very much.”

You slam shut the door to the motel room, feeling beyond pissed at the older of the two Winchester brothers. You are barely alone in the room for a second when the door flies open, revealing the aforementioned Winchester, who just so happened to be glaring at you.

“Y/N, stop storming away like a hormonal teenager and fucking listen, would you?” His words hit you like barbs, digging into your flesh, yet only really serving to infuriate you further.

“Damnit Dean.” You shout, before throwing your hands up in the air and spinning around to face him. “What is it about me that you can’t trust? Hell, I’ve seen you trust strangers with more than you do me. For fuck sake, I’ve spent years trying to prove to you that I can do this job, that I’m a good hunter, that I’ve got your back, but for whatever reason, you trust me about as much as you did in the beginning.”

“How can I trust you when all you do is put yourself in danger? I’m always saving your ass.” He shouts as he angrily snatches an open, half drank bottle of whiskey off the paint chipped dresser, taking a big slug before slamming it back down.

“You can fucking trust me because I know what I’m doing. I’ve been hunting for fucking years.” You stride towards him, swiping the whiskey bottle off the dresser and drinking a few swallows before you turn your attention to your duffel laying haphazardly in the corner.

He watches wordlessly as you begin to stuff what few clothes you’d pulled out of your bag back into it. You stalk into the bathroom, grabbing the few objects you’d scattered about on the tawdry vanity before rushing back to your bag.

“Don’t go Y/N.” His rough voice startles you, the change in tone completely stopping you in your tracks. You bring your gaze to him, wondering what brought on the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Please. Sam needs you.” He pauses, his green eyes swirling with a need, a yearning, so strong that it causes your breath to catch in your throat. A desire to take him in your arms and ease that aching need rises in your chest and before you know what you’re doing, you have already taken a few steps towards Dean.

“I-I need you.” You almost miss the words that he mumbles as he drops his gaze from yours. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest at the three words, wanting nothing more than to be able to tell him you’d stay.

But you don’t; instead you force yourself to return to your bag, shoving your toiletries in among your wadded up clothes. Your fingers search around until they grasp onto the cool metal of the zipper.

Dean’s hand comes and closes over yours, stopping you from zipping your bag all the way closed. His large, calloused hand completely covers your own and for a moment, all you can focus on is the feeling of his skin against yours. “You can’t go out there alone. Who will have your back? Who will be there for you when shit goes sideways?”

His words send a white-hot rush of frustration straight through you that comes to settle in a simmer in your chest. “Excuse me?” You lean towards him, too angry now to care what being this close to him would do to you, to your feelings, to your heart. “I am just as capable as you are. And I don’t need anyone, let alone a man, watching over me to make sure I do it right.” You poke a finger in his chest to emphasize your point.

Dean’s eyes are devoid of their usual fire; a blaze you’d come to recognize as a tell-tale sign of the frustration rising within him. Their almost lackluster appearance manages to put out most of the anger raging within you.

“That’s not- I know you don’t…I didn’t mean it that way.” He uncharacteristically stammers out, followed by a heavy sigh as he sags into a sitting position at the end of the lumpy motel mattress.

“How did you mean it?” You ask, your voice softer now than it had been only a few moments before, as a wild hope blossoms in your chest amid the tamped out ashes of your anger. Everything inside you latches onto that hope, a hope that maybe he’ll say what you’d always wanted to hear from him - that his overprotective nature stems from somewhere other than his lack of trust in you, somewhere where feelings he’d only just admitted to himself existed.

“I just-” He goes quiet then, as if he’s searching for the right words. “Fuck Y/N, I just don’t want anything to happen to you, that’s all.”

“I’m capable of watching my own back Dean. You don’t have to take care of me when you should be worried about yourself.” You say quietly, a hand dropping to the top of his head to lightly comb through his hair.

For the briefest of moments, he leans into your touch, accepting the small bit of comfort you were offering him. But all too soon he is pulling away and standing up, his long strides carrying him across the room, as if he couldn’t get away from you fast enough. He drags a heavy hand across his forehead as he hides under the pretense of looking out the foggy, streaked glass of the motel window into the darkening parking lot.

All the things left unspoken float between the two of you. The words are there, waiting to be said, yet neither of you acknowledge their presence. His eyes drift away from the window, lingering on the wall behind you for a moment before they meet yours. Everything you’d ever wanted to tell him, to admit to him, sits on the tip of your tongue. The beating of your heart speeds up, both in excitement and fear, at the prospect of him knowing how you truly felt for him.

But the part of you that has always been cautious, calculating the possible outcomes of a situation, pushes you to stop. The possibility of losing him as a friend and hunting partner takes hold and suddenly, you’re doing the opposite of what you want to, need to, do.

“I can’t...I can’t take this anymore. I need some space.” You whisper brokenly, slowly moving to pick your packed bag up off the bed. As you open the door, you cast a last look over your shoulder to Dean. His variegated green eyes are still on you, unidentifiable emotions welling up to the surface as he looks at you. It takes everything in you to not turn around and run towards him, into that pair of strong arms that had always managed to make the world fade away while you were in them. You pull your gaze away from his, the ache in your chest growing as you close the door behind you and walk away; away from the life you’d come to love, with the man you’d come to love.

And in that moment, Dean realizes that he’d spent the entire time he’d loved you holding onto you too tightly, in fear that he’d lose you just as he had every other important person in his life, and now it was too late. He had lost you before he even got the chance to call you his own.

It's been over five months since the Maglor's Gap incident. You have been doing quite well until the wendigo returned. You and Camilla have been struggling to find a medicine that could replace the old one. Camilla has created many prototypes, and you tested them. It was dangerous to use yourself as a guinea pig, but you two didn't have a lot of options. Luckily, the prototypes didn't have any lethal ingredients, just unpleasant side effects.  

Camilla did manage to create one medicine that allowed you to manage your days without the wendigo trying to get control. The problem was that you have to take it every day.

You almost started to miss your old medicine. It was a nightmare to take it because you had to drink it with boiling water, but you only had to take it like twice a week.

You drank the potion which would reverse the prototype you took for the day. The sick twist in your stomach slowly disappeared. You wanted for a minute before testing if your voice went back to normal.

Camilla swiped over the prototype, marking it as a failure. "That's the seventh one already," She stated. "Maybe it was the swamp grass," She said. "Ugh, I knew that stinky herb was no good. The prototype tasted like how it smelled," You said, smacking your lips to dissipate the medicine's taste. You noticed something strange in the mini mirror beside your bed. You stuck your tongue out then your eyes widened. "Egh!" You flabbergasted. It was green like moss.

"We should try adding the white flowers. I heard they have a lasting effect when using them for skin infections," Camilla suggested, holding a patch of white flowers. "Yeah, If I had a skin infection, but unfortunately, I have a spiritual parasite," You sassed. You puffed and stood up from your bed, walking toward the kitchen because you felt hungry. "Hmm, maybe I should not use these because they might cause a rash if I mix them with the mushrooms," Camilla said, reading her notes. You sat down on a chair and took a bite of an apple.

"How about we go to Angband and try to find Fire lilies since it's the only place with active volcanoes?" You suggested. "Only if we are desperate. But let's put that in the back of the list because going there would be a suicide. Do you really wanna go to a place where orcs live like rats? One step forward, and an orc is already attacking you. So going there is a big fat no," Camilla explained. "It's that dangerous. Damn," You said, taking a second bite out of your apple.

"Well, anyway, try this," Camilla gave you another prototype. The liquid inside was white and almost looked like milk.  "I added some protein from a poisonous frog, so come tell me if you feel slightly off," She stated. "Poisonous frog...," You said, then took off the lid. "Alright, let's hope I won't die from poisoning," You drank it all up. "Ew!" You said when you found out the taste. "It tastes like rotten milk with honey!" You described. "Eww!" You almost gagged. "Oh, stop being a baby. You have tasted worse things than this," Camilla said. "And don't you have work to do?" She questioned. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot," You stood up. "You know, delivering letters and stuff isn't so bad as I thought. I almost know every place in Himring," You said, grabbing the bag. "Yeah, yeah, have fun at work," Camilla said, focusing on her project. "This is also better than working under your bossy ass," You grinned then left through the door. Camilla inhaled. "That little shit," She said.

You were humming an old song from your world as you walked through the streets. Himring was a large place, and some humans also lived here. Some people from your old village decided to live here as well. Talla decided to work in a local bakery, and Rath worked with the farmers because they tend to make less fun of his head scar.

You arrived at the house of the healing. You walked through the healer's wing to deliver a letter to a certain someone. "Hi, (Name)," Camilla's colleague greeted you. "Hi, Faye. I got a letter for you," You handed her the letter. "From the old man Ronald again? I swear, you humans are complicated creatures. Why do you wanna reject the help that is given to you?" She questioned while reading the letter. "Well, we like making our lives difficult," You stated. Faye chuckled. Her eyes went up to you and then she frowned. "(Name), open your mouth, please," She said. "Why?" You asked. "Just do it, please," She said. "Okay?" You did what she asked. She looked at your tongue. "Why is your tongue green?" She asked. Your eyes widened when you heard that. Your tongue is still green?!

"Oh, It's just a side effect from Camilla's failed prototype," You covered your mouth. "Again?" Faye sounded disappointed. "Why are you two still making prototypes? Do you know how dangerous it is when you test them on yourself?" She questioned. You mentally whined. You're not sure why you're the one getting scolded all the time. Camilla gets away with everything, doesn't she?

"I know, I know, but at least a couple of our failed prototypes have helped you to treat someone. Wasn't one of them a great cure for a... uhm... damn it!" You forgot the thing the cure was for. "What was it called again, the skin with green spots?" You tried to describe it. One of the patients coughed. They had exactly the same condition you described. "Mold fever?" Faye questioned. "Yeah, that's the one," You said. "(Name), be honest with me. What kind of illness you two are making a medicine for?" She asked. Shit. A question you don't want to answer. Faye was a healer, so pretending to have a fake condition wouldn't help, but telling her about the wendigo wouldn't help either. She was a nice elf too, so you don't really want to lie to her. You felt pushed into a corner. What should you tell her?

"Hm?!" You felt something churn inside you. You tried to hold your grunt because something painful is rising in your bottom, ready to blow out. "(Name), are you okay?" Faye asked. "Nature's calling. Where's the bathroom?!" You quickly asked because you really needed to go. "Right there," She pointed out. "Thank you!" You quickly ran to the door. "Oh god!" You said then slammed the door shut. A loud fart was heard behind the door. Faye flinched when she heard another one. "Oh Vala, I wonder what she ate this morning," She said. She then noticed someone arrive into the healer's wing.

"My lord Maglor," She bowed her head. "What brings you here?" She asked. "I thought I saw (Name) coming here. Is she here?" He asked. The bathroom door was then suddenly opened, and you came out. "Wow! That came out of nowhere!" You said while rubbing your stomach. That had to be the worst number two's you ever had. Your arse was aching like gates of hell were opened.

"You alright, (Name)?" Maglor asked. "I'm good. Do you need something, my lord?" You asked. "Just wished to talk with you if you're not too busy," He said. "I'm actually done, so I got plenty of time," You said. "What do you wish to talk with me?" You asked as you two walked out of the healer's wing. Faye smiled as you two walked together like it was a normal thing.

"Those two have come closer than ever. I wonder when it's gonna happen. I hope soon because I don't wanna lose seventy gold coins to Camilla," She said, then returned to treat her current patients.

"So how's your brothers? The war is over, so the situation should have calmed down by now?" You asked. "They're all doing fine for now. They decided to reside in other regions for the time being. They can take care of themselves, but I'm worried about two brothers of mine in Nargothrond. They might do something foolish in the future and I don't want my cousin to turn against us for what they did," He explained. You smiled. He sounded like a mother hen sometimes. "I swear my younger brothers are my biggest headaches sometimes," He said. You chuckled. "One moment I turn my back at them, then boom, a disaster happened," He said. You hummed. "I care about them. I really do, but sometimes I wanna strangle them myself for every stupid thing they do. It's a miracle that I haven't started growing grey hairs from all the stress," He said.  You chuckled. Something about him complaining about his family just made you feel happy. You were kinda same when complaining about Kian to your mother. You loved that brat, but sometimes you wanted to strangle him for how annoying he was. You mentally sighed. You missed being an older sister and Kian's annoying shenanigans.

"How's your medicine coming up?" Maglor asked. "It's... Camilla is working on it," You said, not really sure how to describe it. "We have managed to make one medicine to prolong my days, but I have to take it every day which is kind of a problem because the ingredients are going low," You explained. "If you need more ingredients. I can arrange that for you," He said. "I know, and I'm extremely grateful for that. I wouldn't have lasted this long without your help," You said. "Anything to help you. I rather see you as yourself than an orc-eating creature," He said. You looked away for a moment, feeling a bit flustered. The way he speaks to you and smiles makes you feel funny. You're not sure what it was.

A Familiar churn happened inside your stomach. Your eyes widened and your hands clenched around the fabric of your pants. Oh no!

"(Name), are alright?" Maglor noticed your state. You weren't really hiding it because you were leaning backward, and your eyes were wide open like something shocking just happened right in front of you. "No worries! Just having a massive Diarrhea!" You walked faster, almost running. "A diarrhea What?" Maglor asked. "Technically an illness that makes you shit your guts out! Listen, I'm sorry, but I need to go!" You ran away.  

"Shit your... oh!" He realized what you meant.