Arma morte ad vitam æternam -END PT I-A Chapter by Tsukin Archangel CONTAINS FLUFFY GOODNESS AND MILD VIOLENCE AND LANGUAGE “Here! Stop! Stop here!” Stiles exclaimed suddenly pounding on the dashboard of Derek’s camaro. Derek stopped, and pulled over, wincing slightly at Stiles sudden volume. Darn werewolf hearing. He shifted into park in one fluid motion, then turned to look at Stiles. They were a couple blocks away from the hospital. “Are you going to be okay?” Stiles nuzzled the top of his wolf, his mouth hidden under its fur, “Pssh, you shouldn’t be worried bout me I‘ll be totall-oh look is that a monarch butterfly? Totally thought those where all gone by now…Wait…What was I talking about?” Derek shot him a look, “That’s a no then.” “What’s a no?” “Are you going to be-” “I’m fine.” “I don’t believe you.” “Well you don’t hear a lie do you?” Derek made a face, “No, bu-” “Then stop worrying, I’ll talk to you later,” Stiles pushed open the camaro’s door and stepped out, giving Derek a quick kiss before doing so, “Love ya sour wolf.” He said playfully, “I’ll probably be at Scott’s again, just a warning.” Derek nodded in response and reached over to close the door, a forced nonchalant smile plastered on Stiles face. He knew he wasn’t okay, but there was nothing for him to do right now, just wait until Stiles needed him again. Stiles smile faded as he watched Derek drive away, nerves finally taking root inside of him, questions bubbling to the surface he’d managed to keep under wraps all day (omg amazing right?). Was his dad all right? Will he be awake? Can I go home today? What if something got infected? What will I do if he dies? He knew he was over reacting, knew that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, and he knew that working himself into a fit wasn’t going to help him any. He should stay calm, put on a smile, walk in, joke, be his classic witty sarcastic self, and he would…but as he walked towards the building wolf in hand, he allowed himself these moments to let his true feelings free. He paused at the entrance, heart pounding, knowing how ridiculous he looked, lone teenager standing right outside probably looking ready to have a panic attack…which he was…automatic doors sliding open and closed and breathing deeply holding Sourwolf close to his chest, eyes just slightly wider than normal. Where were the thoughts of penguins when he needed them? Where were the distractions? Why is it he only seemed to truly focus when something bad was happening. He finally regained his nerves…kind of…and stepped into the building, the receptionist, just glancing up and waving him on as he walked by. He must have been in shock yesterday. Yep definitely. Why else would everything be hitting him so hard now? Well whatever. It didn’t matter. Shock was for losers, anxiety for wimps, he was tougher than all that, he was dating a freaking werewolf for peats sake. He’s be head to head with a Kanima (sure both times he‘d ended up paralyzed from the neck down), gotten beaten up by an old man (granted not a very flattering moment but still), had to deal with Scott wanting to rip his throat out every full moon for like two months(you‘d really think metal chains were more effective). He could take a little heart attack, even if it was from the only other living relative he knew about. Pssh no problem. Totally whatever. Absolutely miniscule. Don’t you just love big words? Yay! Go distractions! He took a breath. Yeah, no problem, he could do this. Stiles paused outside his dad’s door, then with shaking hands walked in. XoXoXo Silence. That what was so strange about his surroundings. The absolute quiet. Fabian shivered, forests weren’t ever supposed to be this silent. He crept on, his light footsteps sounding like thunderclaps on the leaves and needles, through the forest that now was holding its breath. It’s quiet a silent declaration of its fear…and it’s hope. A silent vigil towards its savior. Fabian brushed the hair and sweat off his brow, stopping when he reached a clearing on a cliff top. It was here. This was the entry point. He stood and waited, his senses tuned for the slightest shift in power. A sign that the gate would open. A cool breeze rustled through the trees and ruffled his hair. He turned slightly. They had arrived. The sky ripped open with a terrifying crack. The ground shook. Lightning streaked through the sky. A pillar of fire erupted from the hole. Fabian gasped, falling to his knees, watching in horror as the life was drained from everything around him. Blades of grass crumbled to nothing, trees fell to dust. The air was ripped from his lungs. He felt empty, scared even, until he remembered what he now was, a sad smile crossing his lips. He didn’t need to breath. He didn’t need anything at all anymore, nothing but dreams and blood. The gateway closed, and Fabian got to his feet, dusting his pants off as he did so, lazily looking up at the two figures before him. “Gerard.” The man smiled wickedly, “Fabian.” “You’re looking mighty young today,” Fabian drawled, “Killed some innocent passerby recently?” “Oh you know me, can’t resist the urge to drain the life out of people.” “And here I thought he had some semblance of the hunter you used to be.” Gerard scoffed, “Those days are long gone, only my life matters…I will do anything to get what I want.” Fabian clapped his hands and began walking forward, “Well enough of the idle chit chat, I think you and I both know I cant let you stay in this layer.” Gerard laughed, shrill and insane, his blonde hair shining innocently, a sharp contrast to his demonic expression, “You have as much right here as I do, care to join me back in hell?” Fabian stopped in his tracks stiffening, “I’m not like you.” Gerard just smiled a knowing smile, the kind of smile that said, I know all your secrets, you can’t hide from me, “But you are, poor little demon, poor fallen angel, bound to hell, banned from heaven. Are you not unlike Abbadon?” “Don’t lump me with his kind, I will regain my post, I will see those golden streets again, hear those bells, heed His call, I will not be denied access to paradise.” “But you have been, that’s why you are what you are now, Incubus.” Fabian flinched as if he were slapped. Gerard was getting under his skin, and that was something he couldn’t let him do, he had to retain his seraphic identity, he couldn’t give into the demonic rage that was bubbling inside of him, waiting for him to slip up, waiting for him to accept his fate as a demon. Fabian took a deep breathe, quelling the beast within himself…for now, and steeled his eyes,“No.” Gerard paused and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, reading into his sudden mood shift, years of werewolf hunting letting him read the young immortals emotions easily. “I see,” He turned slightly, “Pythep…deal with him, I have other business to attend too.” “Oh no you don’t,” Fabian said lunging at Gerard, yanking a dagger from its’s sheath on his side, brandishing it in front of him menacingly. Gerard merely grinned and raised his hand, the blade stopping in the air as if caught in an invisible wall. “Now, now Fabian, don’t you know better than to stab innocent civilians?” Fabian scoffed and tried to dislodge his dagger from the invisible web that Gerard had willed into being, “You’re no civilian and you’re definitely not innocent.” “Why Fabian, I’m offended, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you didn’t like me,” He pouted, amusement written all over his face, deadly determination speaking through his eyes. He was going to destroy the pesky immortal now before he had a chance to interfere further. “Well…goodbye…Fabian.” Gerard closed his fist. Pain erupted in every pore of his being. And with that his world went dark. XoXoXoX Stiles dad was awake when he walked through the doors, which was…a relief to say the least, he almost felt the need to thank the heavens for keeping him alright, but no, he didn’t do that…wouldn’t do that…what heaven would take his dear mother from him so early in life? No heaven would. Just a Hell. Stiles shook his head and plastered another fake smile on his face, pushing his dark thoughts deep into the crevices of his mind…hopefully far enough away that his ADHD wouldn’t find them later. No heaven was taking his father from him today. “Hey dad, how ya feeling?” He asked siting down on one of the exceedingly uncomfortable hospital chairs, like seriously were they made to make you have to switch positions every three seconds…well in Stiles case more like .5nanoseconds, three seconds of stationary being was actually quite an accomplishment for him…well that and not making an utter fool out of himself, or scoring points in a lacrosse game…or actually being able to play in a game…or actually just still being alive at the moment considering his hellish supernatural turn his life was taking. Wow…everything had to back to Heaven and Hell didn’t it? Was this contemplate the possibility of a supreme being day? If so…it was probably true wasn’t it? Like if werewolves existed, God would too right? He really needed to have a word with him, mother stealing was definitely not o- “-iles…STILES!” His dad called out to his son, yanking him out of his oh so deep and philosophical thoughts…how dare he right? Stiles jumped and repositioned himself on the chair for probably the twentieth time in the past thirty seconds, “Huh what? Penguins?!” Really? Penguins? Again? Totally thought he’d crossed that road, climbed that mountain, sailed that sea (Yay! Go alterations!), mowed that lawn…is that even a saying…whatever…he’d figure it out later, drained that soda, ate that candy bar, kissed that werewo- Okay, Stiles…too far. Focus. Just a five letter word. He’s made bigger. He can totally do this. All he had to do was look up into his father’s eyes. Ignore all sounds around him. Ignore all thoughts in his head. Ignore any unpleasant smells. And talk…. And listen. But mainly talk… Cause he’s good at that… And resear- No! Focusing! Yes Focusing is good! Be good Stiles! Pay attention! He looked up into his father’s eyes, “Ahem…what?” “You didn’t hear a word I just said huh?” “Pssh…what are you talking about…I totally did…I like that…that, thing…too…yeah… no, I’ve got no clue where this conversation had been going.” “I’d said I was feeling fine.” “Oh! Well that’s…good…cause…being good is good…you know? Good…yeah…” Oh yes, score one for Stilinski family awkwardness, just like the good old days…like…yesterday…minus the fact his dad had a heart attack, that was kinda a bummer. “You know I’m never letting you eat bacon again right?” Stiles said pointing an accusatory finger at his father, “I know that’s what did this…and maybe those curly fries from the night before…you know what, no more grease for you, I’m not gonna have you die at the ripe age of forty five. No siree bob, it’s salad and lean meat for you.” “Stiles-” “Nope.” “You’re being ridiculous.” “Salad dad, salad forever.” “Stiles-” “Do not argue this with me, you will not win. I’ll have the whole sheriff department on my side after this fiasco.” Mr. Stilinski sighed and looked for something else to talk about, his eyes finally resting on the black wolf in Stiles arms. “Is that for me?” “What?” “The wolf?” “NO!” Stiles said pulling Sourwolf closer to him protectively. “O-okay then,” The Sheriff said, backing off, a little surprised by the strong reaction he got, “…who’s the lucky girl then? Lydia?” “No.” He paused, “Allison?” “Oh, ew dad no, she’s like Scott’s ex…that’s just gross dude, really.” “Then who’s the animal for?” Stiles shifted uncomfortably, he really didn’t want to have to explain anything, not to mention he didn’t want to have to lie to his dad…again, while he was in the hospital where Karma could just be a dick and smack him over the head and be all like oops sorry looks like we actually do need your dad to die, say bye bye Stiles. “He-he’s mine,” Stiles said after a moment, “You know how much I love plushies.” “Stiles…I haven’t seen you with a plushie in public since you where five, I haven’t seen you with a plushie inside since you where ten, do you really expect me to believe that?” “Uh duh, dad, closet plushie lover here, still have every single one of them in my…ha…closet…that’s ironic. Lolz.” He shifted again, really this seat is hella hard, like a f*****g rock, cant they get a cushion on these things? “Stiles…truth, now.” “Really dad, not gonna comment on my use of the word ‘Lolz’…or the fact I called it a word when its an acronym? What kind of father are you?!” Stiles said awkwardly trying to change the subject. “Stiles..” D****t, not working, of course that wouldn’t work, it was his dad, his dad is the master of the Stiles talk, that trick wasn’t going to work…now he wanted pretzels. Or just a bag of salt…and then some water…and in that order. Stiles sighed, truth, truth,…there had to be some half truth in here, one that didn’t involve Derek, or money, or anything overly suspicious, “I-I-I was just worried about you is all, you know cause you could’ve died last night…I couldn’t stand to think about that.” He looked down and nuzzled Sourwolf’s head, thinking of Derek as he did so. There that wasn’t so bad, that counted as a half truth right? He had been worried about him, and the wolf did make him feel better, soooo yeah, just leave out the Derek bits and it’s a perfect little story. Not a lie, not a truth. Compromise. His dad’s expression softened, “I’m sorry kiddo, didn’t mean to worry you.” “It’s fine,” Stiles mumbled an awkward silence falling over the room. “So, how’s school?” “Didn’t go.” “Okay uhm how’s Scott?” “Same loveable idiot he’s been for the past sixteen years.” “Uh Melissa?” “Worked to the bone like usual…is there a reason we’re going through this?” Stiles dad shifted in his bed and coughed, “Nope, no reason.” “Oooookaayyyyy…then uhm…when are they letting you out?” Stiles asked, mumbling slightly, and scratched his head, his eyes now fixed on a leaf that had gotten stuck on the corner of the window…it was strangely hypnotic…and exceedingly annoying. Like omg I hate you but I can’t stop looking at you annoying. The type that no matter how much you tried to look away and think of something else you just couldn’t. Yeah. Life’s a b***h. The Sheriff sighed, “Uh I think probably tomorrow from what I overheard from the nurses, the doctor hasn’t come in yet to officially say anything, but I think they want to keep me over night just to make sure I’m…okay…” Stiles nodded, he had expected as much, and he really couldn’t complain, he was glad that his dad was going to be in the hospital for surveillance, it would be good. Maybe the doctor could finally get him to listen when Stiles said don’t eat all that fattening, artery clogging, greasy food, also known as all the things that his dad loved. And he was going to have to make a stop at the station. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d get everyone on the force to make sure he ate healthfully. They all cared bout him and besides who could resist the amazingness that was, the Stiles? “I’ll at Scott’s again then,” Stiles replied. “Okay yeah, that’s good,” The sheriff broke into a yawn halfway through his sentence, yep, time for Stiles to go. “Yep, well I’m gonna go now,” He said gesturing the door and re-re-repositioning himself on that blasted chair again,“You know, so you can get your beauty rest, gotta have you in top form and all that jazz.” He tapped his dad’s arm with his fist, “Cya.” His dad nodded and Stiles stood up to give his dad an awkward hug before turning to leave, with Sourwolf still in his arms. Stiles let a tentative grin paste itself on his face. He was happy. His dad was going to be okay. oXoXoXo Red, hot pain was the first thing he felt. He almost wished he had died. It would’ve made dealing with the consequences of life so much easier…now that he thinks of it…why is he even still alive? Fabian shot up from his position on the ground, his breathing labored and sweat drenched his face, it was almost as if he’d awakened from a nightmare, but that was impossible, the pain that coursed through his veins like a hot iron was testimony to that. Which left the big question to be answered. How was he alive? He should be dead, he shouldn’t be able to move, even with all the discomfort it gave him, it defied all logic. He should be dead. Fabian gulped and closed his eyes, trying to remember, trying to remember those final moments before the world had turned into black, evil, agony. Nothing. Nothing came to mind at all, no memory, just a black empty hole as if someone had reached inside of his mind and stolen the critical moment. To be frank, it was…terrifying. Fabian’s memory was perfect, he’d never forgotten anything in his entire existence, which was a very very long time, it’s one of the things that had made him so valuable to the high court and it made the loss of a memory that much more disturbing. Fabian shakily got to his feet, his dagger was gone, probably taken by Gerard, who of course was gone as well, his snakey demon cohort along with him. Nothing had gone as planned, everything had gone wrong. Fabian took one tentative step, then another, and another, he felt drained and weak and tired, barely hanging onto his connection to this layer. He needed to feed, he needed dreams… He needed blood. No. He shook his head, he promised himself he’d never go there, he’d only take dreams, things people forgot about already, he’d never sink his teeth into a living creature…it was wrong…it went against everything he stood for…everything he strived to return to. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him to go along with it, just take a sip, no one would expect otherwise, he’d already been abandoned by the light, he should embrace the darkness, and fulfill its dark desires. Give into the lust, the rage, and need to feed, the need to destroy, the need to wreck havoc on the world. No. He wouldn’t do it. But he needed to feed. He needed to survive. He needed his strength. He had to stop Gerard. He had to reclaim his seat on the council in paradise. And to do that he needed help. He needed Stiles. He made it to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the lights below him. They illuminated his dark skin with a faint orange glow, hiding his scars and bruises, and bringing out the sharp edges of his cheekbones, the strong defined jaw, his piercing eyes, his determined mouth. The wind tousled his hair and he stood there, proud and strong, like a warrior after a trying battle. Like an avenging angel. He turned from the scene in front of him. The lights, the cars, the sounds, the smells. This was what he wanted to protect, and this…the scene he now faced, the darkened, dead ground that covered the cliff, was what he wanted to prevent. And he would. Stiles. He must find him. It was time to finally make use of him and his friends. It was time to declare war on hell.
© 2012 Tsukin ArchangelAuthor's Note
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Tsukin ArchangelPalmdale, CAAboutHmm let's see~ I'm 20 (wow I've had this account for a long time) I'm a poet I'm a story writer A singer An amateur Voice actor An anime enthusiast An avid gamer 100% Unadulterrated Me! I wri.. more..Writing
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