Love Kills {Sterek}

Chapter 9

Stiles:

Stiles woke up, his pants wet from the spilled alcohol. He tried to push himself off the ground, using both of his hands, his left hand getting impaled by multiple fragments of shattered glass bottles. He focused intently on his hands, the glass pushing its way out of his hands and the cuts closing themselves.

Stiles choked down a whimper as his hand traveled to the ripped photo laying precariously on the counter. His head snapped up to his - still passed out - father. He snapped his wrist upwards and, through the black smoke, delivered a pad of paper and pen. His hand shook as he scribbled down the note, leaving the torn picture by its side. He lunged himself towards the shelves, pulling out a Beacon County map book. His finger traced around the outskirts of Beacon Hills, pushing deeply against the words Algoqu Falls. He sighed, scanning the wrecked living room and kitchen before raising his whole arm upwards, smoke enveloping his body.

Derek:

The Pack had searched most of the preserve, only finding Jackson, Erica, and Boyd, all the 'lost' Pack members within a ten minute distance from one another. A small party had stayed back in an attempt to locate the last, and - now - most important piece of the Pack. Derek had just sent the rest of the party to the loft; which included Scott and Stantson.

"Derek," the wendigo called, jogging lightly over to Derek, "I really don't know how to approach this - like I really do-" Derek was now scowling, "Stiles is out of wherever he was, because it wasn't Purgatory?"

"How do you know? How do you know either of those?" Derek asked, his voice rough from yelling Stiles' name.

"From what I heard, and it's not much, that kid Jackson wasn't dead. From what I know about Shades, I know that they can only bring those who've died out of Purgatory. That's not where Jackson would've been, so I think that everything wasn't in Purgatory, but in his head."

Derek only gaped at the boy, "That still doesn't explain why Stiles would be out of there."

"No, but I have two theories. The first is that Stiles has trapped himself in his own mind, fighting his mental demons, keeping them from getting out and hurting the Pack," Derek's chest heaved, the idea of his mate being locked away in his own mind striking him hard, "But, from what I know about Stiles, I don't believe that's what he would do, because he fights for you all, so he would be fighting his physical demons, stopping them from becoming more powerful. Thus, keeping you all safe."

Derek's heart ached, not a pained ache but a longing one. Stiles had sacrificed his sanity, possibly his whole being to keep the Pack safe, whether he knew it at the time or not. Derek let out a small whimper, accompanied by a short, but still present, smile. His eyes, which slowly glazed over with tears, had a sudden, painful, realization.

"Physical demons?" Derek asked for reassurance.

"Yeah, things that cause him, and you guys, pain."

"I know where he is," Derek said, turning and hightailing it towards the outskirts of the town, releasing a pained howl to the Pack.

Derek had reached the house within a couple of minutes of signaling his Pack, his hand hitting the door cautiously.

There was no answer.

Derek tried the doorknob, finding that the door was left unlocked. He slid into the foyer of the house, immediately overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and the feeling of pain and sadness. His head scanned the destroyed living room and saw the scattered glass, torn papers, and thrown couch covers. He heard a smile noise, almost a whimper, come from the kitchen. He escorted himself towards the noise, spotting the Sheriff  clutching a piece of paper, his other hand against his trembling lips.

"Sir?" Derek questioned, moving closer to the man, "Sheriff, what is it?"

John looked up at Derek, "I - uh. I-" he cut himself off, sliding the piece of paper towards Derek. Derek picked it up, his eyes scanning over the lines of text, fighting back tears.

Dear Whoever,

I need to learn how to control this, I need to get away from everything, everyone. Seeing the picture, I just couldn't do it anymore. If I really am as powerful as I'm said to be, then I need to learn to control it, because I almost lost it with John. I wanted to kill him, I did. he removed the only thing I still held onto, my mom. Until I can control it, and until I know the Pack is safe, I'm not going to come back to Beacon Hills. Please don't try to find me. You guys will be fine without me. Take care of yourselves and please, please move on. If I ever can, some day in the future I will come back.

Love, Stiles

Derek lost it. Tears flowed freely down his face, choked whimpers released themselves from his throat as he picked up the torn photo, taking in all the emotions Stiles had felt. Derek tensed, looking at John, "You drove him away," Derek mumbled.

The Sheriff only nodded, reaching for a small glass of the remaining alcohol, before Derek knocked it out of his hands. "That's what cause Stiles to leave, and he won't come back until you change."

Derek sighed again, retracing his eyes over the lines, "I just couldn't do it anymore," it read, "You guys will be fine without me."

Derek looked towards the bottom of the page, the area he had missed in his initial read through.

P.S - Don't trust Markus, he's still Dark.

* A/N - Yes, I know, "You promised MORE STEREK," I promise there is a method to my madness, I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. This weekend I will update once more, and there will be a time jump with flashbacks. Thank you guys again, and I'll see you soon. *