Distance [Derek Hale]

Chapter Forty-One

2 months later

"Okay, how long has it been?" Stiles asked as he looked over at Scott and Lydia from the other side of the table. The three were in the animal clinic. They were talking in reference to the fact that Derek had not shown up for two months; at first, they thought it was out of guilt (as he had done with Boyd) but now they were all growing concerned.

"Weeks. He hasn't gotten back to any of my texts."

"Has Derek ever returned your texts?" Stiles asked looking over to Scott confused. The rain was beating down on the window making the tense moment in their life feel slightly less welcoming.

"Once... Definitely once...But this time, it felt different. I also mentioned Margo and well...he always answers when it's about her. So, I went to the loft. The alarm was on. Everything looked okay. But then, I found these." He explained holding up a few bullet cases and he put them down onto the table for both Lydia and Stiles to see, "So, I sent a picture of it to Deaton. He said that it's the mark of a family of Hunters based out of Mexico-- the Calaveras."

"What would they want with Derek?" Lydia asked.

"You don't think they killed him, do you?" Stiles asked.

"I-I don't know," he admitted before turning to look at Lydia, "that's why you're here."

She took in a breath before stepping closer to the table and reaching out for the bullets. As she picked them up she could hear the sounds of the bullets shooting and the sound of pained roars, she could feel death and yet she knew there was none. It didn't make sense. Flinching, she dropped the bullets back onto the table.

"Lydia, what? Is he dead?" Scott asked.

"No... But I'm not sure he's alive, either."

"What does that mean?" Stiles asked, not understanding but the truth was Lydia didn't understand either.

"I don't know... there's something not right. I just...I don't know."

"So, if the Calaveras have him, how do we find them?"

"Mexico."

Sneaking into the house, Stiles crept through the dark kitchen but didn't forget to stop at the fridge to pull out the milk. He took a swig from the bottle before closing it up and putting it back in but as he turned around he jumped with a yelp loud enough to wake the entire house. Margo in her frail and dull state was sat at the table with a slice of chocolate cake in front of her, a couple of scoops of ice cream and a few berries at the side for detail.

She'd only taken a bite and already it felt like she was completely full. She wasn't focusing on the cake but instead on the sauce bottle which sat in the middle of the table; she half expected a hand to reach out and take it to put on their own slice but there was no other slice. There was also no other person.

Hearing the yelp, she dragged her eyes away from the bottle and instead looked to Stiles, "what are you doing sneaking in?" She asked, her voice exhausted and he tensed not knowing whether he should say it.

In the past two months there'd been no recovery, physically yes but emotionally no. Even then when you're so drained it takes a physical toll. She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt that was loose and hung from her. She was paler than she'd been after she first encountered the supernatural and in the past few months she'd lost a noticeable amount of weight to the point her collar bones protruded her skin and face looked skinnier. Her hair had also lost the majority of its volume and even though it wasn't curled (a rarity for her in itself) it still looked like she'd lost a lot. She looked ill; like a ghost who'd spent their life wasting away.