My Anchor || Stiles Stilinski

Chapter 8: Magic Bullet

Scott left shortly after that, to mull things over. Derek had insisted that I go to bed, since I still had school tomorrow, so I got into my pyjamas and went to sleep.

Fire. That's all I could see was fire. Everywhere. In the house, on the people, in the trees, on the grass. Everywhere. I was 5 years old again, standing outside my house with a 15 year old Derek and 17 year old Laura, looking at the ruined house that barely stands before us. The fire still raging, with the rest of my family inside the house. It's the same every time. The three of us stand outside for a while, Derek runs in, Laura tells me to stay put and follows him, they come out carrying Uncle Peter, who had horrible blisters and burns on his face and body, then it changes. Uncle Peter jumps out of their arms and goes all wolfman on them. I try to move, try to stop him, try to help my brother and sister, but I can't. My feet are stuck and I can't move, or even look away. I watched as Uncle Peter clawed at them and ripped my siblings into bloody pieces. Then the worst thing happened, my family, my dead family walked out of the house. Mum, Dad, Cora, my cousins , , and , my Aunt from Dad's side, and . They all walk out, burned, bleeding and blistered. They look at me and chant in sync,

"You couldn't save us, you couldn't save us, you couldn't save us."

I couldn't take it anymore, I'd had this nightmare before, it didn't end well, so I ran. I ran away from my dead family. I ran away from my problems. I ran away like the coward I am. I couldn't face it. It has been 10, nearly 11 years but I guess some wounds never heal, some wounds scab over but then you pick at them and they start bleeding again. Some scars never leave. I have a scar on my heart, a piece of me missing. I had this feeling, the night it happened, that something was about to happen... Yet I neither did, nor said anything. I simply let the day go by as normal, thinking I could sort it out myself and if worse comes to worse, with Mum or Dad when I got home from school. Little did I know that I would never see my parents again. My cousins, my Aunt and Uncle, my sister Cora... I would never see them again. Because they were dead. Dead, dead, dead. They always will be, and I can't help but think that if I had said something, if I hadn't been so stubborn about dealing with it myself, maybe it wouldn't have happened. Then I think, no. If someone had taken the multiple opportunities to kill that bloody hunter while we had the chance, then my family wouldn't be broken. The Argent that ruined my life. That killed almost my entire family, some of whom were human for God's sake. Then, there she was. In the flesh, blonde hair blowing in the wind she clicked off the safety on her .50 caliber Pistol. I was no longer 5 years old. I was 15 and in my pyjamas again. 15 and staring down the barrel of her gun. 15 and, for once in my life, stunned into silence. I hadn't seen her in those 10 long years. Not that I minded of course, crazy bitch. She smiled that sick sadistic smirk and pulled the trigger.

"ALEX!" I jolted up in bed, ready to punch the person who was close to me, thinking that it was her. I punched the person square in the face and she grunted, but it wasn't like her grunt. It was more masculine. Like Dereks. Before I could do anything else, I was on the floor with my hands pinned above my head, struggling against a death grip. I heard a voice screaming my name, but couldn't quite make out who it was, because my screaming out for my family was overpowering it. Suddenly I heard a roar. Not just any roar, a powerful one. It made me stop squirming and shut up. I opened my eyes to see Derek hovering over me, electric blue eyes shining, sharpened white fangs also made an appearance, not that he'll be using them on me. I hope not at least. I closed my eyes once more and relaxed my tense and stiff body, taking long, deep breaths as I did so. Once I calmed my breathing and racing heart down, I told Derek to let go of my wrists, which were starting to bruise from the death grip that he had on them, but to his credit, had never faltered. "Are you calm now?"He asked me, letting go of my wrists but still kept my legs in a carefully positioned lock so that if he made one move, my left leg would snap in half. I nodded and he got off me. I was about to stand up when he offered me a hand, I rejected it, being the stubborn person I am, even if it is sometimes rude. I stood up and there was now an awkward silence in the room. I had no idea whether I had been talking in my sleep, thrashing around the bed, screaming... Or all of the above. "What were you dreaming about that got you so rattled up?" He asked, looking so genuinely concerned and sort of scared for me.