From the Ashes

From the Ashes: Chapter Fourteen

⚠️ Warning: ⚠️
This chapter contains a detailed panic attack. There is also mentions of blood and negative thoughts. Stiles is not in a good place in this chapter. Take care!

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For almost two years since the asylum, neither Stiles nor Isaac has had a setback that wasn't minor. However, just two months shy of two years, a major setback occurs for Stiles.

There is nothing about this day to suggest anything is going to go wrong. The sky is clear. The weather is calm. The pack is all together and there are smiles all around. Not an ounce of tension is present.

The pups are upstairs sleeping or playing while the adults are downstairs doing various activities. It's funny to listen to Claudia trying to help Peter learn to bake cupcakes. She'll eat them no matter what. Even if he mixes up the sugar and the salt.

Isaac is dozing lightly with his head on his mate's chest, a rumbling in his own chest as long slender fingers card through his blonde curls.

It happens so quickly and seemingly out of nowhere that no one is prepared or reacts quickly enough.

One moment Stiles is calmly running his fingers through his mate's hair and the next Isaac is on the floor with a whine and the spark is backing away.

"Mischief? Angel?" he says softly but it's as though the spark can't hear him.

Amber eyes cloud over flashing to amethyst purple to solid black and back over and over again as he backs away. "We were not strong enough to defeat him. He used us and we failed. She died because we were weak."

Isaac freezes. "Shit," he curses under his breath. "Angel, that's not true. You told me it wasn't true."

The eerie voice continues. "We should have fought harder. We should have–" he cuts off with a snarl.

The spark's mate slowly stands up and rumbles trying to soothe his mate. "You did fight. You were so strong. No one else could have done what you did. Come back to me Angel." He holds out his hand.

Stiles lets out a high pitched whimper, his hand twitching as if to reach for his mate's hand but he shakes his head. Wide amber eyes find deep blue ones. "I-I–I'm s-sorry. I-I don't know what's–" He throws his head back letting out a pitiful mournful howl and shifts.

None of the pack are fast enough to catch him before he's locked himself in his bedroom.

They try the door to no avail. The spark has sealed himself in and none of them know what to do.

"Where is he?" Peter growls as he rushes up the stairs. "What happened?" he snaps glancing at Isaac. "He was fine. He was fine and now he's–"

The house rumbles slightly and the youngest siblings wander out with wide eyes. Maya whimpers and tugs on the alpha's pant leg. "Papa wats wong wiv mis-cuff?"

Peter scoops her up and starts scenting his betas to calm his flaring instincts. "I don't know but he's going to be okay."

"Can we help him papa?" Avonlee asks. "He always told me he'll be here when I'm scared. So, I want to be there when he's scared."

Hayley nods. "Me too! He taught me to find my anchor easier. Does he know his anchor? That should help."

The sounds of wood snapping, glass shattering and more reach their ears and Claudia clutches her heart. Tears stream down her face. "The pain he's in."

"He's hurt mama?" Avonlee asks, tears welling in her own eyes.

"Oh darling, come here." Claudia pulls her daughter close. "Sometimes the hurt isn't always in our heart or our body. Sometimes it's here." She taps her finger on the girl's temple.