𝑽𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 | Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski

Chapter 12

Sylvia couldn't whistle properly. The original Sylvia could, but this one couldn't manage even a simple tune. Her frustration was compounded by a miserable weekend and an equally dreadful week. She had spent every spare moment trying to activate her powers, master spells, and help Scott and Stiles with their relentless troubles. Meanwhile, Derek was conspicuously absent.

Stiles had informed her that Jackson had a separated shoulder courtesy of Scott, who, in typical fashion, was still determined to play in the upcoming game. Sylvia, exhausted beyond measure, longed for the solace of a warm shower, her go-to remedy for fatigue.

The original Sylvia had an obsession with lavender—the color and the scent—her belongings always carrying that familiar, soothing aroma. This Sylvia, however, preferred a blend of clean and fresh scents. She had mixed lemon and lavender essential oils, finding the combination to be wonderfully refreshing. Essential oils, after all, lingered longer than perfumes and could be savored for extended periods.

After showering, she dabbed the essential oil mixture on her wrists and behind her neck, relishing the invigorating fragrance. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders as she wandered around her room in a bathrobe, searching for her favorite pajamas. She scoured her walk-in closet and rummaged through the smaller one beside her bed, huffing in annoyance when she couldn't find the pair she wanted. Resigned, she settled for a different set.

Emerging from her walk-in closet after changing, Sylvia nearly screamed at the sight of Derek standing by her window, next to her collection of rose succulents in shades of pink, purple, jade, and orange.

"You know it's very inappropriate to do this?" she said, clutching her hammering heart.

"Scott shouldn't play the game on Saturday," Derek stated flatly.

"Tell me something I don't know," she deadpanned, earning a glare from him.

Derek seemed completely out of place in her room, clad in his black leather jacket, his hard glare contrasting sharply with her cozy space. Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it.

"I'll try to talk him out of it, but no promises, Hale," she said, patting his bicep. He caught her hand before she could pull away, his eyes flashing a brilliant blue, trying to intimidate her.

To his surprise, she merely smiled, and he released her hand. Derek couldn't fathom this girl. She was either insane or extraordinarily fearless. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of Paige—her unflinching nature, her ability to challenge and understand him in a way no one else did. Sylvia's smile was a haunting echo of his dead girlfriend, a smile that he could never forget. It felt like a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of his irreplaceable loss.

In the next moment, Derek was gone with an aching void in his heart. 

Their love might have been momentary, 

but to him, it was legendary.

° * ⋆ . ✴︎˚｡⭑.🪐｡𖦹°‧

Stiles and Scott were idiots. That much was clear.

But they were still her best friends, so she went with them to dig up a body.

Sylvia reached the scene and parked her car right behind Stiles' jeep, her headlights casting an eerie glow over the area.

"Thank God you're here," Stiles breathed in relief, "I need someone to hold the light for us."

And so, they began digging. Scott jammed his shovel into the ground, stomping the spade-end with his foot to push it in further before scooping up some dirt and throwing it aside.