On My Own

Stiles hadn’t heard anyone approaching. In fact, he hadn’t even seen Eva’s attacker when he heard her scream, or when he turned around. He didn’t see the weapon that could have hurt her, but he could sure as hell see she was hurt. “Eva?” He stared at her with wild eyes. “Oh, God. What happened? Wh-what’s going- here, come here-” he stepped forward and supporter her on one shoulder, helping to lower her into a less straining position. She would start healing soon, right? She was going to be fine.

Stiles frowned and turned away from her. There was nothing he could do to help her. Not really. After what he’d done, he was in no place to try and comfort her. He started walking, not sure which direction he was heading, not really caring- just praying something would show up and murder him. He stared across the desolate gray horizon and tasted something like blood on his tongue. What if this was Hell? Why would he be here with Eva… Maybe his eternal punishment was to look her in the eye again and again and live with that guilt. That seemed like damnation to him.

Michael wrapped his arms around her. He felt bad for her. Letting her cry for a moment, he decided to ask her what was wrong. “Eva, what’s wrong? Who were you running away from?”

“Whatever you need, I’m here. I will always be here.” Michael promised her.

Stiles frowned. “I don’t know if I even believe in God, but if He’s real, I doubt He’d be so cruel.” He had half a mind to ask the sky what he was being punished for, but he refrained. “If this is the seventh circle of Hell or something, then I should get going, because I’m clearly not supposed to be here.” He ran a hand through his hair, staring off into the gray horizon.

“Eva!” Michael shrieked as he vamped forward. Crouching down, he was worried. Finally, someone he knew. “Eva, what’s going on?”

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Stiles followed her gaze. He could picture it- the gruesome scene of her brother’s death. He turned back to her, taking all his courage to meet her eyes. “Alright,” he said softly. “I won’t ask you to do it. I was just offering.” He was ready to go find somewhere to throw himself off of when he stopped. What was he doing. He turned and raced after her. “Eva, wait!” He yelled, jogging to catch up with her. “Stop. What are we even doing?”

Stiles gasped and gagged as she pressed on his throat. He gripped helplessly at her hand, but whatever strength he got from the Void spirit was gone, leaving him weaker than before. Lucky him. Eva’s words carved into him like knives, and his eyes flooded with tears partially from guilt but mostly from being choked. He tried to form a response, tell her she was right, do something, for fuck’s sake, but he couldn’t get a word out. Then she hit him and his vision went black for a second before he turned over, coughing and hacking and gasping for air. He bit back his sobs and stared at the ground. “I’m s-sorry,” he rasped. “I didn’t… I wasn’t able to stop myself. You should do everyone a favor and kill me now. I’m dangerous.”

Stiles followed the glassy eyes of the boy to someone on the ground. Oh shit. He was overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions. It was Eva. She was alive. At least, she seemed alive. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. Until she looked up at him, and it was like a bear trap was snapping shut on his soul. The anger in her eyes made his blood run cold, and then she started marching towards him, and he stumbled back a little. “Woah, woah, hey…” he stuttered, hoping she’d give him a chance to figure out what was happening before she ripped his throat out.

Stiles didn’t know where he was. He gasped awake in some random place. The moment he’d felt Eva’s neck snap between his hands, he’d suddenly been sucked away somewhere else. He tried to evaluate his surroundings before turning and seeing the dead boy. “What the FUCK?!” he screamed, stumbling back. What was going on?