DIVINE MOVE ϟ Stiles Mikaelson (BAMF/ TEENWOLF)

XXI ϟ B A N S H E E

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C H A P T E R    T W E N T Y   O N E :  B A N S H E E

"The part that's worrisome, is that this was most likely just a distraction for what was happening to Stiles."

"What is happening to Stiles?" Scott asks, his eyes surveying the black blood that leaks from Stiles wounds, his face conveying confusion. Deaton shakes his head, eyes following the line his nose leads, while he tentatively stitches the unhealing gashes marking Stiles very-human-like body.

"I'm not all that convinced that anything is happening, not anymore." Deaton's eyes raise, somewhat, to meet Scott's gaze before returning to the closing wound, the toxic smells that rise to his nostrils earns a look of discomfort. "I think, Stiles, in his subconscious state, removed the power from his body."

"Why would he do that?" Jackson asks as he shuffles forth from the dispersing group. 

Darkness enveloped me. The water closed in around me, filling me with a deep dread. I held my breath as long as I could, too long in fact. Red and black splotches danced in front of me and I couldn't remember if my eyes were opened or closed. 

"You know how you all have a predatory instinct, a natural or intuitive way of acting or thinking?"

The coldness he had felt upon entering the water was completely gone. A desperate hot wave had come over me, warming even my frosted toes. My heart was beating rapidly in panic. The urgency for air was more apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in my field of vision anymore. It was all black.

"It's kind of like that, his fixed behavioural attitude- it became somewhat- it returned to its factory state. Unaware of what is good and bad, its best choice- to protect itself, was to remove his power."

Then there was a sense of anguish, more so than pain, it had taken the rule of his heart, and he was extremely light-headed.

Maybe the upper content of his head was little more than a spiral of wool, which was slowly turning as it unravelled. One more revolution and the final strand would release, to allow his mind to slip through the gap, and float slowly up and away.

"So he became weak, to save himself?" Scott questioned confused, Deaton, somewhat, nodded in agreement, "I think so, if the Nogitsune's host is weak, it can no longer draw power- So it left."

Now he was drifting, drifting, drifting down through a bed of gently swaying strands of seaweed, to be crowned by the vertical green fronds as they wrapped around his head. As his feet touched down on the ocean floor, Stiles exhaled his final breath, which rose in a fascinating stream of bubbles back to the surface from whence it came.

"Yeah it left, but where does that leave Stiles?"

And I rose with it.

"What happened? How long was I out?" I cry, leaning back on my elbows as I stare at Scott and Jackson, the only two occupying the room other than Deaton who had busied himself with my files it seems.

"Just a couple of hours. You should sit down." I squint at Scott through my blurry gaze, eyes watering with unshed tears. "Scott, what's going on?" 

"Well, Allison, Isaac, the Twins, they're all looking for Lydia," I nodded, gingerly touching the stitches on my arm with a frown of disgust. "It's starting to feel like we're waiting for a ransom call."

Scott only nods, "We'll find her." His promise lingers on my mind as I waver in seated position, "You all right?" My eyes snap up from their intense gaze with the ground to Scott's worried stare, "Yeah. I don't know why I just can't seem to get warm."Lie.