Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Seventy Five

(Finally— I know, you guys. As it's been literal months since I've added anything, I have finally regained the obsession phase for Teen Wolf, and my husband. Enjoy the upcoming weeks of consistent updates! — Xoxo)

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"Chimeras," Sheriff Stilinski muttered as Malia, Stiles and I watched him. The Sheriff stood in front of his own crime bulletin board, using a red sharpie to draw a giant X over Tracy's photo. I assumed this was to signify that she was dead, for real this time. He stared at the board for a moment, and I took this time to inspect Stiles' face. He was itching with nervous vibes, and Malia was confused. The sun shown through the windows of Mr. Stilinski's office, and Malia glanced back at me for a moment. My eyes flickered from Stiles, to the board, as the Sheriff took his time in processing the new information.

"Two dead Chimeras," Stiles said from next to me.

"And eight new ones," I added with a frown. Malia sighed.

"So that's ten total," she muttered. Mr. Stilinski shook his head.

"I'm thinking maybe eleven," he said, as he pulled out Donovan's mugshot. My body stiffened, as I see Stiles' face go ghost-white. The Sheriff pins Donovan's photo next to Tracy's. I closed my eyes, as I take a deep breath. Stiles turns away from us, facing the corner of the room, seemingly in thought. "Our station tech guys confirmed something for me... They said both the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic. You said that, uh, these guys—"

"—Dread Doctors," Malia states. Mr. Stilinski grimaces.

"Are we really calling them that?" He asked with exasperation. I put my hand up.

"So, they broke Donovan out? And- uh, he's a Chimera?" I offered. I could feel Stiles' eyes burning holes into my back, but I couldn't just say nothing.

"Yeah, but... Is he a failure like Lucas and Tracy?" Mr. Stilinski asked. Malia looked at me, as I turned to Stiles, putting a hand on his arm.

"If he is, he's probably dead," Malia said expectantly. I shrugged, as I gave Stiles a look. His eyes flickered up at me, and he looked just horribly guilty. Malia reached forward, going to draw another red X over Donovan's photo, but Mr. Stilinski caught her arm gently.

"Not until I've seen a body," the Sheriff said, clearing his throat. He turned to us, staring at Stiles. "You're uncharacteristically quiet," he added. Stiles' eyes flickered up to mine finally, and I nodded calmly. Stiles turned to Malia and his Dad.

"Yeah... Sorry, I'm, uh... I'm just trying to think about it. Uh... These are all teenagers, right? So, now shouldn't we be trying to figure out why these teenagers? If the Dread Doctors, if they went through all that— burying them, uh— killing them, breaking one of them out of jail..." Stiles trailed off, and he looked at me for help. I gave the others a tight smile, as they tried to decipher our wordless glances.

"They couldn't be chosen at random, y'know? They're similar," I said. Malia nodded, putting a hand to her chin.

"They had to have something in common," Malia said slowly. I nodded in agreement, as Mr. Stilinski glanced back at the board.

"Something that made them right for this experiment," he muttered. Stiles took my hand gently, as I felt his own hand shake. I squeezed it comfortingly, as he cleared his throat.

"Something that made them special."

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We dropped Malia off at school, and I waved at her as she got out. She shouldered her backpack.