One Night

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2252 Words
Comments are always encouraged; I love the btw!
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    Ever since Derek's outburst stiles has been trying to be his normal piss off self- the sarcastic, bluntly honest, slightly rude, totally crazy, stiles. The issue is no matter what he does the wolves can still fucking smell him. His anxiety, sadness and whatever else but Scott's also been saying he's been extra jumpy and irritable lately, stiles would curse him if that wasn't the truth. Be he can fully fucking blame Derek for that reaction, for everything. Stiles grits his teeth as he listens to the plan being put together in Deaton's clinic.

    Scott had spoken about the hospital incident yesterday, now the group stands in the clinic for a second time that week to discuss the issue of the other up and coming or already and still not discovered sacrifices. Scott and stiles also privately spoke about the red eyes and their possibilities as well. Stiles with thought plans on staying later to get information with Deaton- he practically knows at this point that Deaton has some sort of knowledge- however large or small- about the damn red eyes.

    "Stiles?" Scott questions, his position mimics stiles's. Arms crossed tight over his chest, hands in fists, and eyes glaring down- however Scott stared at stiles is question.

    "Uhh-" his eyes stuttered and then jumped up to his best friends. "What was that?"

    "I asked if you thought this would work, bait?" Scott questions in return, the man however continues when he can see stiles isn't following. "I mean-" he plays it off. "We know that it had to be one of the last few sections. Protectors, doctors wasn't finished, uh-um-"

    "Healers." Stiles finishes. "If it is within there somewhere bait might work- although we'll have to figure out who the philosophers is."

    "It can't be like fighters- three sacrifices were already in worriers." Lydia cuts in.

    Stiles nods, slowly thinking. "Then there's guardian's; parents?" The man looks up to check around the room, where he meets surprised glances and nodding heads of agreement; he then lands his eyes on Derek. Broody, arms crossed, glaring at nothing, Derek. Only then does stiles realize the other hadn't spoken. He'd put in no input at all- which he'd normally do, a take control kinda guy.

    Not only that, the fight in the loft that killed Boyd has caused him all sorts of trouble. He's silent, pulled away, uncomfortable. When stiles joined and comforted the man in the middle of the room he flinched at stiles touch then relaxed. Slowly as if he seemed to forget stiles was there he notices the younger and flinches again, then relaxes again; and finally a third time after that. It was moments later that his teacher, Stiles teacher, made her way over and fumbled in front of Derek; she crumbles, holding him before the two hold each other. Yet they both seemed dull, understandably, but just off in a way that made you fearful. Stiles didn't like it but he let them be before he and the others cleaned up everything and staged Boyd's death as a flood and broken wire.

    Returning to the current moment, stiles blinks as he shifts his attention away from the werewolf. "Actually," Deaton starts suddenly. "That's actually just right, protectors, your first protectors your parents that's who's gonna be next. Similarly, if we look at the old language of Druidic," the man spins and pulls a book from his small shelf, he props one on the table and flips through the pages slowly he finds one drops a book slams his hand down onto the page and points at one circle close to the center with five others. "this one here. Philosophers, that's what it has to be, not only was the section not finished but It's like the glue or chain, connecting all of them. It's the thought, reason understanding, teachings, and leading." Deaton explains, then flipping the page. "that's why it's used in most sacrificial rituals. And with that, I think I know which one this Darach is performing."