girl almighty // s. stilinski [1]

tether

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She awakes to a gasp.

Bea's eyes snap open, and they flit around as she takes in her surroundings. A frown paints her lips when she remembers how she got to this dirty root cellar. This was not just a dream, but it is her reality.

The girl looks at the post across from hers by the stairs, a fourth member being added to their former party of three. Chris Argent sits up straight, his chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths.

"You okay over there?" Sheriff Stilinski questions, leaning his head back against the wooden post he is restrained to, fatigue causing his eyelids to only open half way.

No response comes from the former hunter, except for his heavy breathing. Melissa decides to take a shot. "Chris? It's Chris, right?" the older woman questions. Chris nods his head, his breathing starting to slow down.

"Yeah," he answers, lazily looking around the cellar. He humorless chuckle leaves his lips. "Oh."

Noah gives a little laugh. "Is it just me, or has someone been here before?" he inquires, earning a nod from the hunter.

"Years ago." Chris starts attempting to relieve himself of his restraints, reaching for something attached to his ankle.

"Hate to disappoint you, but we watched her take your ankle knife," Noah comments, earning a grunt from the former hunter. He reaches for his opposite arm, however Melissa stops him.

"And the knife in your sleeve," the nurse informs. Chris switches sleeves.

"And the switchblade in your other sleeve."

Argent groans before leaning forward, seemingly trying to bite something out of the front of his jacket. The cellar doors abruptly open, causing the four of them to snap their heads up toward the stairs as daylight pours into the dark space, enhancing the dust and dirt particles flying through the air.

"And the taser in your jacket pocket," Jennifer remarks from the top of the steps. Argent sighs as the woman descends down the stairs with a white cloth in her hand. She walks around Chris's post, kneeling next to him.

"Argent, the French word for silver," the woman starts, reaching up to wipe the small circle of blood on Chris's forehead from where she knocked him out. "Ah, ah, ah," she tuts as he leans away from her touch. She grips his chin, forcing him to look at her as she raises the cloth to his head.

"Interesting how truth becomes altered by legend. When it's not actually the metal silver that kills werewolves but the family. What's the Argent code again? We hunt those who hunt us? I hope you don't mind if I borrow it for a little while, since I've been hunted myself."