I M P U L S E | Jackson Whittemore [2]

07: The Return

SOTC: Arsonist's Lullaby // Hozier

Sam continued to lean himself against the pole behind him, attempting to maneuver his hands free by using his teeth. Apart of him even contemplating on breaking his thumbs. Melissa watched the boy with eyebrows raised as this stretched on for fifteen minutes. Finally she sighed and relented him the trouble, "I don't wanna kill your optimism or anything, but, you know, the three of us have been trying to do the exact same thing for days."

Sam ignored Scott's mom and continued to pull against the rope binding his hands together. Sheriff watched Sam, seeing the look of pure determination on his face like he knew he could get out of it if he really wanted to, "Have you been tied up before?" he asked Sam.

Sam exhaled, pushing his thumb further and further away from its socket before deciding he wasn't that desperate, yet. He would like to walk out of here with a small concussion, not two broken and dissembled thumbs. He sighed, nodding his head, and answering almost humorously, "Many times."

Sheriff thought for a moment, before nodding his head, "What, is that, uh, part of being a werewolf hunter?"

Sam's head shot up. Up till now, he assumed Sheriff Stilinski was oblivious to the supernatural. He wasn't sure how to answer. It's not too polite to lie to someone you're kidnapped with, but it's also the code to keep hunting and the supernatural hidden.

Melissa let out a soft laugh, "We tried to download him on as much as we could."

Sam looked over at Chris, shocked he would so easily break the rules he was born and raised on. Chris shrugged half heartedly, not really caring about anything except keeping the people he cared about safe, "He deserved to know and I deserved to load my problems onto someone else," he joked.

Sheriff laughed with Chris, shaking his head and turning back to Sam, "Yeah, I was starting to feel a little bit left out."

Chris shook his head, speaking up again, "You knew. I remember meeting you once, before you were sheriff. You questioned me about a body. You knew something was up. You just weren't ready to believe it."

Sheriff searched the back of his mind, although he remembered the night perfectly. There was so much confusion, so much pain and guilt in one night, how could he forget?

He sighed, "You're right. There was a night eight years ago..." he paused, "the night my wife died. I was at the end of a shift, and a call came in. There had been a pile-up, and a young woman..." he stopped, correcting himself, "she was a teenager, actually. She was trapped under an overturned car. We had to wait for the paramedics. We were never getting her out. But I was able to hold her hand."

Melissa looked over at Sheriff, "I remember that night. Out on I-81, a semi slammed into one car and then tumbled over four more. It was terrible," she winced at the memory.

Sheriff nodded his head, looking to the ground as he continued, "She knew she was gonna die. But I just kept telling her, 'No, no, listen. The paramedics are on their way.' And then I remember, her hand suddenly gripped mine so tightly that I... I literally thought she was gonna break the bones," he inhaled at the vivid memory almost replaying before his eyes. "And she looked me in the eye, and she said... 'If you wanna be with her, go, now.' And I knew she was talking about my wife."

Sheriff exhaled the breath he took before, shaking his head, "But then that other part of my brain... the part that looks for clues, for fingerprints, for logical connections... that part told me that there is no way that this girl could possibly know about Claudia. And so I stayed. I stayed until the paramedics pulled her out... Until her heart stopped beating and they declared her dead," Sheriff sniffed, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "When I finally got to the hospital... I saw Stiles sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands because... He was with Claudia when she died. But I wasn't. I wasn't with her because I didn't believe..."