Wild Ones - Teen Wolf fan fic

Long Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters. I own Artemis McCob.

7:53AM. No missed calls. No messages. I had been pacing my room anxiously for what felt like weeks, but in reality had only been days. Dr. Deaton had not returned my calls. I needed answers. Badly.

'I think I'm about to implode. I have to tell someone!' I argued with myself. 'If you tell anyone, they'll send you to the loony bin. Or if they believe you, they'll probably try to kill you.' Ugh! I didn't know what to do. Do I relax and just wait patiently for the Dr. to call me back? Or do I go find someone else to help me? 'Stiles! Wait. He probably thinks I'm dead' I paused in my pacing. He thought I was dead. Oh my god. Is he ok?! It had been over a week since my death and it had never occured to me to let people know i was ok or to see if anyone else was. Suddenly a numbness filled my brain and before I knew what was happening, I was in my car with the key in the ignition.

Within minutes I pulled up in front of the sheriff's house. The sheriff's vehicle was nowhere to be seen, but a familiar blue jeep was parked in the driveway. I ran up the front steps, not bothering to close my car door. I rang the door bell repeatedly and banged on the door in a panic. "Stiles? Stiles?!" No answer. I tried the knob, but it was locked. "Damn it!" I snarled, wriggling the knob again. I slammed my fist hard against the door, jumping back in surprise when the door splintered and creaked open. "Stiles?" I asked, peeking through the open door. Again, no answer. I pushed the door to open it the rest of the way, but felt a sharp sting making me pull my hand back, hissing in annoyance. The skin along my knuckles was red and burning, but there was nothing there. Confused, I carefully reached my hand out towards the door again. Again, a sharp stinging burn. But my hand was touching nothing. "What the hell is this? Stiles?! Are you in there?!"

I waited a few moments, but could hear nothing but a ceiling fan upstairs and the ice maker in the kitchen. No one was home. I sighed and turned back to the street, crossing my arms over my chest. 'Where the hell are you?' I thought, scowling at a blue jay fluttering in a bush nearby. Is he at the station, reporting my murder? Is he in the hospital getting treated or is he... in the morgue? I shook the thought away. No. He's not dead. Gerard said he was to deliver a message to Scott. He has to be alive. School? It sounded like a long shot, but I figured it wasn't a bad place to start. Anyone questions me, I can just tell them I was battling a nasty flu. Without a second thought, I marched to my car and peeled away down the street in the direction of the school. It was going to be a long day.