DIVINE MOVE ϟ Stiles Mikaelson (BAMF/ TEENWOLF)

XVI ϟ P R O T E C T

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C H A P T E R S   S I X T E E N : P R O T E C T

"You want to handcuff me?" I chuckled, grinning as John- my adoptive father- stepped more so, in front of the growing crowd. He stared for a moment, his compulsion a reminder of my past life as the wrinkles in his face shone a light on his disappointment and fear of what I truly was beneath the meat suit.

"If my son is still here, if there's still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he'll put these on willingly and he'll come with me," John whispers, knowing I can hear him above the dense silence,  "because he knows I'm here to protect him from himself and from others." 

I cock my head, thoughtfully thinking about the best way to kill him- shooting? 

To boring?

 Suffocating? 

To easy.

"You're not my son." John whispers as I step no closer, I blink a sadistic grin crawling through my teeth to push apart my lips. 

"I was never your son." Growls ensue at the pain that my verbal response causes the old man, Derek rushes forward- my palm meets his chest, breaking his ribcage with his own force, he reels backward his body repelling my touch as he coughs for a breath of air.

My back faces the pack. A gun cocks. 

My gaze flickers over my shoulder in curiosity, before I turn swiftly to stare at Chris with a crude grin. "Argent, listen to me. Don't do this." John begs as Chris shakes his head in an attempt to lock his humanity deep within the steel walls of his heart.

"Why not?" Chris demands, "I've done it before. Werewolves, berserkers. I can easily add a Nogitsune to the list." He argues, holding the gun steady as John raises his hands.

"You're not going to shoot my son." John demands, stomping his foot in anger as Argent's face pulls into a snarl. "You said it yourself, Sheriff. That's not your son. For god sakes, he's never been your damn son! He's a vampire!"

"Put it down. Put it down." John begs, as Chris' hands begin to shake.

"Dad," I cry, forcing my iris' to blow wide in fear, "he's going to shoot me. He's going to kill me, Dad." I beg, a whimper trembling along my lower lip.

"Don't listen," Chris growls, as my facade falls- a malicious taunting smirk revealing a darker shadow beneath the surface of my flesh.

"Put it down. Now! Do it! Put it down!" John yells unaware.

"Pull the trigger. Come on." I taunt, waving the gun closer with a giggle of laughter as I dance around merrily.

"Listen to me, you put the gun down now!" John roars, as Chris's wavering, stops. 

John draws his gun.

"Shoot me." I drawl.

"Put the gun down now!"

"Shoot me!" I whisper.

"Put the gun down!"

"SHOOT ME!" I beg.

"Argent, you put it down! Put it down! Put it down! Stop, stop it! This is what he wants. This is exactly what he wants." John yells, as his eyes flicker to the family that held the psycho at bay beneath fearsome features. Their anger revealed in their tense figures as they watch their family member be threatened by a mere mortal.

"Not exactly," I speak, "I was kind of hoping Scott would be here. But I'm glad you all have your guns and claws out. Because you're not here to kill me." I grin, arms open wide, "You're here to protect me." The darkness slithers across the floor as the Oni stand, swords unsheathed and yellow eyes haunting the night.