Bonds // Stalec

Chapter 7

Posting this at 7:10 in the morning because the power went out last night so my phone barely charged. I wanna get a chapter out before it dies lol

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Peter was the only one at the loft when Stiles arrived, which he was thankful for because he didn't know if he could face Derek right now. He and the werewolf had an odd bond. It was special but strange. They definitely had feelings between each other that no one else in the pack did. Stiles supposed those feelings could've been somewhat romantic at some point, but either way, he didn't know if he could see Derek without wanting to hug him, so he was glad Peter was the only one there.

The eldest Hale was reading a magazine on the couch when Stiles entered. The door made a loud creaking noise when he opened it, but he didn't care. As long as he was glamoured, his scent was hidden and Peter wouldn't know where he was.

Peter lifted his head at the sound of the loft door sliding open, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he saw nothing. He cautiously stood up, setting his magazine on the table, and walked toward the door slowly.

Stiles wished he could talk while he was glamoured, so he could freak Peter out, but, unfortunately, when your body is glamoured, your voice is as well.

"Derek, if this is your way of entertaining yourself because you no longer have your werewolf abilities, I must say it's quite an awful attempt," Peter said loudly as he searched around, trying to spot his nephew.

This time, Stiles was the one to furrow his eyebrows. What had Peter meant when he said Derek no longer had his werewolf abilities? What had happened over the last month?

"Derek isn't the prank type guy," Stiles said as he de-glamoured. "Although, that would be an entertaining show."

"Stiles," Peter said in slight disbelief. "Well, you've change quite a bit now, haven't you?" The werewolf observed the shadowhunter thoroughly. "And for the better I see."

"Don't be coy. You loved my old sarcastic self," Stiles replied while walking past the man and further into the loft. He pulled out his blade and turned back to look at Peter.

"You're gonna take me to the Nemeton," he stated. "No questions asked."

Peter laughed, saying, "Stiles, simply because you gained a few tattoos and carry some amateur sword doesn't meant I suddenly fear you."

Stiles scowled and pulled out a small dagger from his belt, effortlessly chucking it at the werewolf. The blade pierced Peter's shoulder, and he winced while stumbling back.

"Next time, it'll be coated with wolfsbane," Stiles threatened as Peter reached up to hold his injured arm. "You and Derek know the woods better then anyone. Take me to the Nemeton or the next thing that will be buried there is your dead body."

"Jeez," Peter scoffed. "Puberty hit you hard."

The werewolf turned around and yanked the blade out of his arm before walking out the door. Stiles glamoured himself before following the man, his blade still gripped tightly in his hand. He followed Peter outside, and they eventually made it into the woods. The two arrived at the Nemeton in a matter of minutes.

"May I leave now?" the werewolf questioned.

"Nope?" Stiles said as he became visible again. "Dig."

"What?"

"Dig," the shadowhunter repeated while pointing at the Nemeton.

"With what?" Peter questioned in annoyance.

"You have claws," Stiles said while taking his bow off his back along with an arrow. "Dig until you find the jar."

"What jar?" Peter asked as the shadowhunter climbed into the nearest tree and perched himself on a branch.

"The jar that we trapped the Nogitsune in," Stiles began while pulling out a small jar from his pocket that held a bluish purple powder. He opened the jar and shoved the head of his arrow into it.

"If you want it so badly do it yourself. Don't make me your personal shovel," Peter snapped.

"Peter, the odds aren't really in your favor," Stiles said while tucking the jar away and placing the arrow against the string of his bow. Peter cringed at the smell of the now wolfsbane coated arrow.

"I've never particularly liked you and to be honest neither has anyone else," Stiles continued. "No one, and I mean no one would sulk if I put this arrow through your heart or even better your head, so let's make this easier for both of us."

The shadowhunter raised his bow and pulled back the string, shifting so that if he released the arrow, it would pierce Peter's heart.

"Now, dig."

Reluctantly, Peter kneeled down, extracted his claws, and began digging. Stiles waited patiently, his eyes never leaving the werewolf once and his arrow still ready to be released.

Nighttime had just come when Peter stood up and wiped his forehead with his dirt covered hand.

"There. Happy?" the werewolf questioned.

"Take the jar out," Stiles said.

"Who ever said there was one?"

Stiles immediately jumped down from the tree and glanced into the hole Peter had dug. There was no jar or any signs of the jar or anything ever being there.

Stiles scowled and pulled the string back on his bow tighter as he aimed it towards Peter's head.

"Where is it?" he asked angrily.

"I don't know," Peter replied with a slight grin. He was clearly lying.

Stiles aimed the arrow a little ways further down, and his fingers slipped from the string. The arrow soared downwards and eventually impaled Peter through his thigh.

The werewolf yelled in pain and collapsed to the ground. The wolfsbane wasn't lethal. It was only strong enough to paralyze the limb for a short amount of time, but it still hurt like a bitch.

"I'm not playing around!" Stiles snapped. "I've got limited time, okay? Just cooperate. I know you and Derek buried it. Tell me where it is."

"I never buried it," Peter winced while clutching his wound. "I took the opportunity to gain some leverage and grabbed the jar when Derek wasn't looking. I didn't mean for it to escape though."

"It's a goddamn demon in a flimsy glass jar of course it escaped," Stiles replied. "Without the Nemeton shielding it, we're all screwed. Especially me, so I'm gonna make this clear. The Nogitsune is still here and looking for me. I can feel it. You're gonna find it, trap it, and bury it with your bare hands, and I'm gonna watch every step of it. If you don't, the only thing that will be going in that hole is your dead body."

"Ruthless aren't ya, kid?" Peter questioned with a breathless chuckle before wincing again. "Okay, okay, but I need to heal first or else I won't be any help, so could you do me a favor and get this arrow out me?"

Stiles slowly lowered his bow and leaned down, grabbing the bloody arrow and quickly pulling it out of the werewolf's leg. He offered Peter his hand, which the man took, and Stiles pulled him to his feet. It was only then that he realized his head was aching, which meant the rune that Clary created on his neck was wearing off. He quickly took out his stele and traced over the rune.

As he was putting it back in his pocket, a large body rammed into his from the side, knocking him to the ground. His head harshly slammed against the side of the Nemeton. It began to ache again, but he only realized the extent of it when black dots started to invade his vision and eventually black was all be could see.

[EDITED]