How to build better friends

How to fight your friends

Derek sat happily in the loft, finally enjoying the peaceful and relaxing evening after a hard work out. Rust had replaced the smell of ash very nicely, but it wasn't the most pleasant smell in the world. He had gotten into candles rather fast, something about the complaints his betas brought to him really made it feel like it was a group decision.

"Dear nephew, I brought gifts," Peter stepped into the room. Derek almost wanted to smile if he didn't know his uncle. And with a face that happy, clearly he wanted something. "Now, I know how much you like being alone, but I just couldn't bring myself to see you this way," He gave an honest look to Derek.

"What do you want this time?" Derek rolled his eyes.

"Ah! I am offended, do you seriously think I'd collect these little lovelies if I didn't want to just visit?" Peter held 4 vials of pink flowered wolfsbane, "tracked down this collection just for you. Just one pedal can get any wolf drunk. Can you believe it?" He smiled.

"You came over to drink?" He eyed his uncle suspiciously. He was met with pearly whites and a gesture to the next gift, in return.

"Not just any drink, Derek. I got this Win-"

"Derek, Derek!" The three wolves slid the loft door open, all glancing at the pages of a book. "You need to see this, I think we might have a problem," Jackson stepped forward proudly. He looked at Peter and the man bowed away, nodding for the teenagers to continue.

"What is this?" He asked walking a little closer to them. They set the book down in the middle of the table to show him a diagram of the human body, a tree, some water, and lots of other scribbled notes. Derek leaned over and a lot of senses hit him at once. Erica and Stiles, resentment clearly in the air-but also a dirt and dust smell came from the pages.

"I think-" Jackson began, but Boyd cleared his throat.

"We think," Boyd continued, "that Stiles has been resurrecting the dead," he stated and caught sight of Peter walking forward to look at the diagram.

"Yesterday, at school," Scott began, "we saw him with 2 people that I don't think were alive. They smelled. And the way they talked-"

"And Lydia gave him a warning," Jackson added.

"It all just kinda fits, doesn't it? Lydia can interact with the dead, right? Well-" all of the sudden, the lights flickered and then went out. Derek's alarm went off before the emergency power kicked on. Then it flickered again and went out for good this time. Then the candles blew out and Derek could feel the energy in the air. It was Stiles doing something from somewhere. He could feel the teen crawling up his skin, a powerful anger electrifying the room. A cellphone rang and everyone jumped, Peter shook his head angrily at Scott who answered.

"Scott! I think something is headed your guy's way, Stiles is in some kind of trance. I hope whatever was in that journal was worth it, cause he's pretty upset." Erica whisper-yelled through the phone.

"Yeah, I think we are seeing what he's doing right now, Imma have to call you back," Scott said hanging up. All of them were watching the shadow of 2 pairs of feet that just trudged to the sliding door.

"Get behind me," Derek commanded protectively, leave it to Stiles to get into even more trouble. The group stood behind Derek as they prepped for the oncoming duo.

"Knock, knock," Tanya said sliding the door open. Except this time, there was no glamor charm hiding what they were. Two rotting corpses, barely what they once were when they were alive. Flesh falling off their faces and their eyes magically fixated and staring. The energy around the room seemed to dissipate and Derek only assumed Stiles was done calling these two zombies to his front door.

"Man, you guys really fucked up his time," Boston fixed his jaw a bit so it was on right, "I mean, it's one thing to kick him out of your little clique..." he continued taking strides forward into the room as if he was still a living person. "It's a whole other thing to piss him off," he nodded his head, sympathetically.

"Tanya and Boston?" Scott asked.

"It's Scott right?" Boston pointed at him, he nodded back. The group just staring at him waltzing forward like he owned the place, "well, duty calls. I'm just gunna... yeah," he gestured to the journal, picking it up. Suddenly, Scott stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. "Oh c'mon man," Scott pulled the dead man's arm back still holding the book.

"We need to know what he's doing with you guys," he said, braver than he felt.

"And like we said last time," Boston spoke harshly, jaw becoming more and more dislodged again, this time pulling his arm back towards his body and successfully wrenching free from the werewolf's grip, "you should have just asked him."

"Scott, step back. I don't want to see what happens if he bites you." Derek stated and the zombies giggled.

"Apparently, you don't know how this works, umm," Tanya looked at Boston, "this isn't an infection. This is magic. You're not going to zombify if we come in contact."

"Really? Fascinating." Peter spoke up, "2 zombies and 5 werewolves..." he began to smile mischievously, Derek seemed to agree with those odds and then it seemed like all hell broke loose. Boston got the brunt end of Derek's claws. It seemed to do significant damage, just then they both entered a rage. The glass table broke, along with some of the new candles and Peter's bottle of wine.

Scott and Boyd were fighting Tanya, she pushed Boyd up against a wall-taking his claws to her body. It only began to go downhill from there, she punched him hard in the face and he passed out. Then the worst came for her, Scott had grabbed a shard of the wine bottle and slammed it into her head.

Derek was tossed to the floor almost lazily and Boston smugly looked down at him. That's when he noticed Tanya and he almost let out a scream that broke his jaw, but just before any sounds came out of his mouth, Jackson smashed a candle into the back of his skull, too.

Derek stood up, looking over all the damages to his place with a long look. Two corpses, glass everywhere- "hey, where is the journal?" Jackson asked, looking around at the table and underneath the couch. Peter. Derek gave a heavy eye rolling look, now severely pissed off.