Tooth & Claw | Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty Two: When The Lines Blur

[ Chapter Twenty Two: Then The Lines Blur ]

[ The Argents Basement, Beacon Hills ]
[ Saturday, April 16th ]
[ Third Person ]

       Rebekah moaned and almost surfaced from unconsciousness, but she was pushed under before she could even hope to open her eyes. Her thoughts – a mess of words that whirled around her mind.

      Couldn’t recover…..kidnap….psychopath…..safe…a lot of planning and scheming and effort...did you kill him?.....No, but you did….convincing….Just keep going….I need to……I need to get out…..Get out.

     This time, when she struggled to open her eyes, she succeeded. She knew because she could see, the room was dark but she could see the ray of light pouring through a slit towards the top of the room.

     A gap between a door and a floor.

     She was in a basement.

      And Christ, she ached.
    
      Rebekah’s arms were numb and cramped, she realised that she was hanging from them. Glancing up, she noticed the fishing wire that was helping her suspend from a support beam – her wrists were so numb she couldn’t even feel the fishing wire had cut her wrists to the bone.

     Involuntarily, she went to make a whimper but felt herself physically unable to. It was only then she became aware of the duct tape plastering her mouth shut, and it was only then she had began to breath short, shallow breaths through her nose.

     I need to get out.

     She tried to move but she felt the sensation of weakness coursing through her veins. No. not weakness. Lowering her head ever so slightly, she became painfully aware that it wasn’t a wave of weakness shooting through her body – but electricity.

     She was wrapped in a cascade of electric wiring, fish wiring and rope.

      Get out.

     She made an attempt to shift– calling on all the memories that made her angry: Jackson and how he had treated her throughout their relationship, Derek and how he had treated her at first, Isaac’s lack of loyalty, Matt and the entirety of Beacon High School.

     Nothing was working.

     She couldn’t transform – but she didn’t need to, she could get out….of course she could.

     She just needed to get her footing.

     She forced herself to lean back as far as she could, rocking herself – gently at first – but slightly more vigorously – she extended her toes as far as she could but even then she couldn’t quite reach the floor – she was maybe a centimetre too short.

     If only she was 160cm tall.

     A moan from next to her startled her to the point where she jolted involuntarily causing the fishing wire to slice even further into her skin causing her to scream against the  strip of black duct tape.

      When she turned her head slowly to the side, even that little motion hurt. Erica was beside her, her blond curls matted with blood where she had obviously been struck across the head – in the same predicament as herself with the exception of the puncture in her leg.

     With another turn of her head, she saw Boyd, also in the same predicament, but he had at least six puncture wounds in him. Rebekah’s eyes flickered down to her own body to see an arrow still submerged in her lower abdomen.

     Slowly, something caught her eye – a small glimmer from the light ray hitting metal – a sword.

     “What are we doing here?” Rebekah demanded as Derek’s iron grip remained around her wrist as he dragged her through the Beacon Hills Preserve effortlessly – the pair very much identifying a stubborn child and a fed up father.

     Derek didn’t respond.

      “I thought you were meant to be teaching me cont-” Rebekah protested but in mid-sentence she paused – not because anyone had forced her or because she had been interrupted but by the scene set out in front of her.

     Rebekah whimpered involuntarily as she saw a ragged, unkempt man with long, dark greasy hair wearing ripped, cheap jeans and a dirty, tattered plaid shirt caught in a snare and hung up by his arms dangling from a tree limb – shifted into his werewolf form with hair sprouting from the sides of his face, furiously burning amber eyes and elongated fangs that were snapping at the air.

     “Oh, my God.” Rebekah gasped, instantly raising a hand to her life – feeling that the new life she had been nominated for was not going to be easy. “Oh, my God.” She repeated before instinctively taking a step forwards.

     Before she could take another step, Derek caught hold of her arm and span her around at the same time he span around – forcing both of them behind a tree as she slammed into his chest from the force.

    “What are you doing?” Rebekah demanded, looking him right in his pale green eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul. “The whole upside of this is we’re basically superheroes, right? We can help him!” she insisted.
     
     “They’re already here.” Derek said, returning her direct look.

     “We can h-”

     “Quiet.” Derek hissed at her, holding her back against him.

     “Who are you?” An unfamiliar voice barked causing Rebekah to press her lips together in a thin line. “What are you doing here?” the voice questioned as a flashlight illuminated the tree they were hidden behind.

      “Nothing.” A low guttural, growly voice replied which resembled neither hers or Derek. The flashlight moved slightly to the side confirming that whoever Derek was so eager to avoid had not seen them. “Nothing, I swear.” Rebekah and Derek peaked their heads out, seeing Chris and Gerard along with other unfamiliar faces standing before the caught man.

     Chris took a step forward and dug the shock stick in his direction and, almost instantly, he looked fully human.

     “You're not from here, are you?” Chris questioned the man before a few more whimpers. “Are you?!” he raised his voice, asking again having grown impatient.

     “No.” The man shook his head so violently, the rest of his body swayed too. “No, I came-” he stammered over his words nervously. “I came looking for the Alpha.” Rebekah indistinctively glanced at Derek. “I heard he was here. That's all.” He claimed.

     The hunters exchanged glances.

     “Look,” The predator turned prey started anxiously. “I didn't do anything, I didn't hurt anyone.” He told them, his voice now high and thin. “No one living.” He added before swallowing. “He wasn't alive in the ambulance. He wasn't, I swear.” He insisted.

     “Gentlemen!” Gerard clapped his hands, taking a few steps towards the man. “Take a look at a rare sight.” He told them, gesturing to the man smoothly. “You wanna tell them what we've caught?” he queried, glancing at his son.

     “An Omega.”

     “The lone wolf!” Gerard said, more like he was putting on a show rather than talking. “Possibly kicked out of his own pack or the survivor of a pack that was hunted down, maybe even murdered and possibly alone by his own choice.”

     Rebekah hadn’t known this was an option, she just assumed that you were either an alpha or a beta. She felt lied to. Instantly, her eyes snapped to Derek who hadn’t even noticed – still watching the hunters.

      “Certainly not a wise choice.” Gerard continued causing Rebekah’s eyes to flash straight back to him. “Because,” he paused as he drew out a sword. “…as I am about to demonstrate - an Omega rarely survives - on his own.”

     As he withdrew the sword, Rebekah instinctively looked away. “Look.” He ordered but Rebekah disobeyed. Hastily but gently, he pressed his hand against Rebekah’s cheek before turning her head back in the direction of the action just as the sword came into contact with the omega’s abdomen.

     She attempted to look away again as the sword started to slice through it but Derek held her head in place between his hand and chest – forcing her to look. “Look at them!” he hissed in her ear as she watched, horrified, as the sword sliced through his abdomen – literally slicing the omega in half.

     “This is why you need me, Brier.” Derek told her, finally letting her look away as the bottom half of the omegas body hit the floor. “Why we need each other.” He continued, looking her directly in the eye. “The only way to fight them is together.”

     “What…what are they doing?”

     “Declaring war.”

     Rebekah felt her blood run cold as she came out of the memory.

     They were trussed up in the Argent’s basement.

     She could only pray that the omega’s fate wouldn’t become her own.

     Suddenly, the shapshifters heard a door unlocking which was accompanied with two different sets of footsteps and a constant mumbled owing. Rebekah. Erica. Boyd. Isaac. Isaac was the missing piece – ‘Oh God,’ she thought. ‘What had Derek got us into?’

     It wasn’t long before whoever had been accompanying the latest addition to the ‘Argent’s basement fun crew’ had grown tired of the constant owing – there was a loud thudding sound followed by a door slamming shut.

     Not Isaac.

     But if not Isaac, who?

     Rebekah took her chance and made the loudest scream she could manage which came out as a: 
     “Mhhhmmmmhmhmhm.”

     Suddenly, the lights flickered on.

     “Bekah?”

     Rebekah stared hopelessly at Stiles who looked equally as hopeless. 

[ The Boys Locker Room, Beacon Hills High | 20:45 | Third Person ]

     “I got to meet with the medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson.” Sheriff Stilinski started. “I've got an APB out on Stiles and Rebekah.” He continued as the sheriff. “His jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means - the hell, I don't know what that means.” He said, now as Stiles’ father. “Um - look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if either one of you see him o-or Rebekah-”

     “We’ll call you.” Isaac finished for him with a small smile.

     “Look,” Scott started with a shallow sigh. “He’s probably just freaked out from all the attention or something.” he theorised, in an attempt to assure Sherriff Stilinski. “We’ll find him.” He assured the man.

     “Yeah, I’ll see you, okay?” Mr. Stilinski nodded, his eyes managing to be so full of hope but so lacking hope it was an honest-to-God miracle. And with that, he walked off again to be Sheriff Stilinski – having to investigate Jackson’s murder.

     Isaac had left to go get Rebekah’s red hoodie and one of her tank tops that he still needed to give back to her and on returning ensured everyone who was in the locker room – a mist of concerned parents and confused players – got out of the room.

     “Is that everyone?” Scott questioned as Isaac approached him, red hoodie in hand. 

     “I think so.” Isaac confirmed with a nod when he finally reached the other teenage boy. Scott nodded and then proceeded to elongate his claws before jamming them into the door of Stiles’ locker and prying the door off of the locker. 

     Scott pulled out one of Stiles’ shirts and held it to his nose before he pulled out a shoe and handed it to Isaac who just simply stared down at it in his hand. With a sigh, he took the shoe from him and then handed him Rebekah’s tank top.

     “How come you get his shirt and I get a shoe?” Isaac moaned.

     Scott elbowed Isaac with his jaw dropped as he laid eyes upon Derek Hale and the one who had caused his jaw to drop – Peter Hale. Isaac slowly brought Rebekah’s red hoodie away from his nose and stared at the pair of them wide-eyed in confusion.

     “We need to talk.” Peter spoke.

     “Holy sh-”

[ The Argents Basement, Beacon Hills | 20:45 | Third Person ]

     “The wire is electrified.” Rebekah hissed at Stiles, or would have if she could.
     
     All Stiles could hear was: 
     “Mmm mm-hmm mh mm-mhm-mh-mm.”

     “Bekah, I hate to break it to you but I can’t hear you over the duct tape!” Stiles told her, as his hands were fumbling against the fishing line – he was getting awfully close to the electrified wire now.  “If you just let me-” he reached for the duct tape but Rebekah jerked her head backwards to stop him.

     “THE WIRE IS ELECTRIFIED!” Rebekah tried to yell.

     All Stiles heard was:
     “MMM MM-HMM MH MM-MHM-MH-MM.”

     “Just cause you mumble louder doesn’t mean I can hear you any clearer!” Stiles hissed at her causing her to grunt against the tape in frustration. “Shhh!” he ordered her. He finally touched the wire causing Stiles to leap back as he shook his hand which was now searing with pain.

     “M Mmm hm hmmmm.” = “I told you so.”

     Suddenly, the door which Stiles had previously been pushed through opened up again and Gerard Argent came through it. Stepping down the stairs as if he had all the time in the world, before finally drawing to a stop three feet away from Stiles.

      Rebekah’s eyes widened with fear.

     “She was trying to warn you that the wire is electrified.” Gerard laughed.

     Stiles slowly turned around to face the man.

     “What are you doing with them?”

     “At the moment, just keeping them comfortable.” Gerard informed Stiles causing him to turn his head back to look at them – Boyd was unconscious, Erica was crying and Rebekah was glaring at Gerard. They were anything but comfortable. “There’s no point in torturing them, they won’t give Derek up – the instinct to protect their Alpha’s too strong.” He elaborated. 

     “Okay.....” Stiles looked back to Gerard. “So what are you doing with me?” he questioned him. “Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench.” he informed him. “He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine-”

     “You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski.” Gerard cut him off with a compliment. “Let me paint one of my own.” He proposed. “Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp.” He offered up. “How does that sound?”

     “I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know?” Stiles responded without missing a beat over Bekah’s threats which were muffled by the duct tape. “What - what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this roo-”

     Gerard cut him off with a strong backhand across the face resulting in him falling straight down to the floor and Rebekah to yell insults at Gerard which were very much lost in translation due to the tape. Once he was down, Gerard kept him their – gripping him by his jersey and punching him repeatedly as Rebekah thrashed harmlessly against the binding.

[ The Boys Locker Room, Beacon Hills High | 21:00 | Third Person ]
 
     “What the hell is this?!” Scott demanded, gesturing wildly to Peter.

     “You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sheriff's station.” Derek snapped at him.

     “Okay, hold on.” Scott started with his palm out and facing the floor. “He - he threatened to kill my mom.” He informed him. “And I had to get close to him.” He added, thinking of his plan. “What was I supposed to do?” he questioned him.

     “I'm gonna go with Scott on this one - Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous.”

     “Shut up!” Scott and Derek chorused, their heads snapping in Peter’s direction.

     “Who is he?” Isaac questioned – still very confused.

     “That's Peter, Derek's Uncle.” Scott introduced Peter to Isaac, leaning in to him ever so slightly. “Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat.” He retold the tale as if it were nothing.

     “Hi.” Peter waved.

     “That’s good to know.” Isaac said to Scott with a nod, still quite confused. 

     “How is he alive?” Scott enquired, looking to Derek for answers.

     “Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson and maybe how to save him.” Derek gave that as an answer.

     “Well, that's very helpful except Jackson's dead.” Isaac dropped the bomb.

     “What?” Derek questioned – completely taken back.

     “Yeah, Jackson's dead - It just happened on the field.” Scott told him.

     “Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Isaac queried.

     “Because if Jackson is dead, it didn't just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen.” Peter explained.

     “But why?”

     “Well,” Peter started, taking another step forwards. “That's exactly what we need to figure out.” He stated, glancing around at the three younger males. “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing - Quickly.”

[ The Argents House, Beacon Hills | 21:15 | Third Person ]

     “You need something?” 

     Allison had put the question to her father at whom she was quite peeved at. He had stopped her from killing Erica and Boyd and acted like she was the crazy one – not him. And he broke her bow – that she was currently trying to fix but it was to no avail.

     “I want you to step aside and let us handle this.” 

     “You're kidding, right?” Allison smiled at him with a scoff.

     “One of your friends is dead-”

     “Because of Derek.” Allison finished off his sentence to suit her, she peeled her gloves off and threw them on the table. “How do you think Jackson became that thing in the first place?” she questioned him. “Kate, mom, Jackson.” She ticked off the number of deaths Derek was responsible for on her fingers.

     “What about Scott? What if he dies too?” Chris quizzed her.

     “Since when did you care about Scott?” Allison responded with her own question.

     “I care about you.”

     “Really, dad.” Allison’s chuckle was airy. “If you're going to start quoting from the list of the top five things a parent should say to a child every day, why don't you start with, ‘I'm proud of you’?” she suggested, walking past him. “Because I am doing exactly what you wanted.”

     “No.” Chris denied immediately, looking down at his daughter whom he barely even recognised anymore. “Allison.” He addressed her, taking a step towards her. “You're doing exactly what he wants.” He referred to Gerard. “We all are.”

     “I'm tired. I just really want to pass out, okay?” Allison sighed, plopping down onto her bed.

     “Fine.” Chris mumbled, going over to her desk and discretely grabbing one of her ring daggers and using it to cut the string of her crossbow before placing it back down on the desk quietly. He hoped this would put her out of commission or at least to a disadvantage whilst being Gerard’s puppet. 

     “By the way, don't forget you owe me a new bow.”

     “And a new crossbow.” Chris added before walking out of her room.

[ The Hale House, Beacon Hills | 21:15 | Third Person ]
     
     “They found Stiles.” Scott announced as he looked up from his phone.

     “What about Bex?” Isaac questioned.

     “Not yet – they’re still looking.” Scott bit down on his lip.

     “Wait.” Peter stood up straight before turning back to look at Scott. “Rebekah.” He repeated the name – knowing it from somewhere. “Wait – is that the striking girl? The werelioness?” he quizzed causing Scott to nod. “Okay, not only did you let a werelioness go – you lost her?” he turned to Derek abruptly.

     Derek turned to face Peter with narrowed eyes.

     “Hell, I’d even offer to go look for her if we didn’t have more important matters to attend to.” Peter told him before leaning down and reaching under one of the stairs and pulling free some sort of box before blowing the dust off of it.

     “What is that, a book?” Derek queried, staring down at the box.

     “No.” Peter denied almost instantly. “It’s a laptop.” He informed him as he opened the box. “What century are you living in?” he scoffed causing Derek to roll his eyes. “A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had.” He explained. “Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones that keep records.”

     Suddenly, Scott’s phone rang. 

     Quickly, he retrieved it and answered it.

     “Hey, mom, I can’t talk right now.”

     “Oh, yeah? Well, I'm so freaked out that I can barely talk either.”

     “What's wrong?”

     “Something.” Melissa told her son – before gulping. “Definitely something.” She stressed. “I don't know what,” she confessed. “But I think you're gonna want to see this for yourself.” She proposed causing Scott to glance over at Derek, Peter and Isaac.
     
[ Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Beacon Hills | 21:45 | Third Person ]

     It had been decided that Scott and Isaac would go and see what Scott’s mother was talking about whilst Derek and Peter would stay at the Hale House and search through the records. Scott and Isaac watched as Melissa unzipped the body bag.

     She was right – something was definitely up.

     Jackson was covered in a cocoon of clear viscous liquid from the neck down – it was alarming – very alarming.

     “What’s happening to him?” Scott questioned, wide-eyed.

     “I thought you were gonna tell me – is it bad?” Melissa queried.

     “It doesn’t look good.”

     Suddenly, Jackson’s head jerked abruptly and they could now see his fangs.

    “Um, mom, could you zip it up, please?” Scott asked causing his mother to turn to him with wide eyes.

     Reluctantly, she took a step towards the body bag and began to zip it up smoothly until the zipper got caught right under his chin. All of a sudden, Jackson gnashed with his teeth and she leapt back. Scott freaked out causing her to step forwards again – pulling the zip as fast as she could with Jackson’s teeth still gnashing.

[ The Stilinski Residence, Beacon Hills | 21:50 | Third Person ]

     “Dad, I said I'm fine.”

     Stiles was lying face down on his bed – his face still stinging from Gerard’s beating and his heart still heavy with guilt for leaving Rebekah. But he couldn’t do the thing’s Scott could. She’d be out of there in no time…..right?

     The incessant knocking got too much for him causing him to shoot up to his feet and open the door to see one of the people he had expected least to see.

     “Hi.” Lydia greeted him.

     “Hi.”

     “Your father let me in.”

     “He did?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask – he was shocked – for the moment in which he forgot it was extremely obvious that he was in love with her and his dad knew. Lydia looked momentarily offended by his question. “Yeah, of course he did.” He mumbled.

     “What happened to your-” Lydia began to ask about his bruised face. 

     “Oh, uh - yeah, no, it's nothing.” Stiles cut her off in mid question and assured her instantly. “Don't worry about it - I'm fine.” He waved it off before realising that she definitely was not fine. “Do you want to come in?” he questioned her causing her to step inside his room. “How are you doing?” he asked as he closed the door behind her.

     “They won't let me see him.” Lydia informed him, he didn’t have to turn around to know that she was choked up about Jackson. “I'm supposed to give him something.” She whispered, touching the key that Jackson had been asking her for her back at Scott’s house. “He kept asking for it back.”

     “I – uh – one minute.” Stiles stammered, seeing that she was crying. “I’ll – uh – erm – just wait.” He told her as he frantically ran around his room to look for a tissue to give her. When he couldn’t find one, he sprinted to the bathroom and came right back. “Sorry, I didn't have any tissues, so, uh-” he held out the toilet roll to her as he sat down next to her on his bed. 

     “That's fine.” Lydia assured him as she took it from him, tore a sheet off and pressed it to her tear-stained face. “God, I'm such a mess.” She uttered under her breath before seeing his phone. “God. You have 17 missed messages from Scott.” She informed him.

     “I know.”

     “You're ignoring him?” Lydia queried, getting up off of his bed and walking towards his desk.

     “No. No, not really.”

     “Why do you have women's jewellery?” Lydia questioned with a curious look on her face, picking up a bracelet and turning around to face Stiles.

     “Oh. Uh, nothing, it's just some stuff I bought, you know, for your birthday.” Stiles explained awkwardly as he got up onto his feet.

     “For me?”

     “Yeah.” Stiles confirmed. “I just - I kind of didn't know what to get you, so I just bought you, like, a bunch of stuff.” He explained as Lydia turned around to look once again. “Like, a lot of stuff.” He laughed. “You know, I was gonna return anything that I didn't give you.”

     “A flat screen TV?” Lydia arched an eyebrow at him, looking amused.

     “Yeah, that I'm definitely returning.” Stiles laughed as his phone went off again.

     Lydia went over to his phone and read the message before picking it up and turning to it.

     “You're gonna want to read this.”

     ‘Lydia can save Jackson.’

[ The Stilinski Residence, Beacon Hills | 21:57 | Third Person ]

     “How much do you know about this stuff?” Stiles questioned her.

     “Pieces - Half of it's like a dream.”

     “Yeah, well, guess what? The other half is like a freaking nightmare.”

     “I don't care. I can help him.”

     “See, that's the problem. You - you don't care about getting hurt.” Stiles turned around to her abruptly. “But you know how I'll feel?” he questioned her. “I'll be devastated. And if you die, I will literally go out of my freakin' mind.” He admitted. “You see, death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it?” he ranted. “And look at my face, huh? Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?” he finished his rant leaving Lydia staring at him lost for words. “Um - I'm so sorry.”

     “It's okay. I'll find him myself.”

[ The Argents Basement, Beacon Hills | 22:00 | Third Person ]

     Erica and Boyd had been staring at each other for quite some time now as Rebekah was just staring at a spot of Stiles’ blood on the floor. She don’t know what would be worse: If Stiles told the others or if Stiles didn’t tell the others.

     The sound of footsteps sent a shiver down her spine. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. She refused to cry. Even if she was so helpless. Even if she had a constant current running through her body which made it feel like she was on fire. Even if she had been abandoned. Even if she was going to die. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction of seeing her cry. 

     The footsteps stopped.

     She opened her eyes to see Chris Argent standing before her. 

     “You know, my family's done this for a long time.” Chris informed them, looking at how terrified Erica and Boyd looked and how emotionless Rebekah looked in contrast. “Long enough to learn things like how a certain level of electric current can keep you from transforming.” 

     His fingers went to the dial.

     Oh shoot.

     “At another level, you can't heal.” Chris went on. Was he trying to torture them mentally before he tortured them physically? “A few amps higher, and no heightened strength.” He continued. “That kind of scientific accuracy - it makes you wonder where the line between the natural and the supernatural really exists.” He stated.

     And with that, he turned the knob.

     Rebekah had squinted her eyes shut – preparing for more pain but instead she got the opposite.

     He had turned it off.

     She opened her eyes to look at him with wide eyes.

     “It's when lines like that blur - You sometimes find yourself surprised by which side you end up on.”