Stiles is changing. His humour fading, the light in his eyes turning darker with everyday, he was becoming more and more like the dark spirit they just defeated. His friends notice it. His dad notices it. Stiles knew this.
But what he didn't know...
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The cool damp dew, still crisp from the morning frost, curled around the ankles of a tall male. The man with curly brown hair which tucked softly behind his earlobes, stood facing the tranquil ocean, as he stood upon the towering chalk cliffs of southern Cornwall.
His deep green trench coat hugged his figure loosely and yet he wasn't effected by the chilling seaside wind, he relished in it. Closing his sage green eyes he took a deep breath of the salty air. Raising his pale thin arms to shoulder height he exposed his chest to the ocean.
The ground trembled around him like a beast waking from a long slumber, the grass breaking its soft hold as cracks formed in the soil, cutting deep into the rock below. The man crinkled his nose in concentration as his hands closed into tight fists, forcing a movement upwards, helping something break the surface.
A hand shot out of the grass first, the frail fingers outstretched as it clawed the loose dirt around it. The power beneath it boosted as the man let out a grunt of exertion as he pushed every inch of his being to get this body out of the ground. The hand was closely followed by a pale arm, then another. A head of disheveled mousey brown hair arose from the dirt as a scream of agony was echoed out to the horizon.
As he heard the scream, the man's body fell numb. Collapsing to the ground in exhaustion as his chest heaved, desperate to get the extra air into his starved lungs. Taking a deep breath he pushed his body up, draining the already dwindling energy energy from his limbs, and dragged himself across to the woman in the ground.
The woman lay still, the upper half of her torso lay across the damp grass as her legs were still stuck below. Circling his fingers around her pale arms he tugged, and pulled her out of the crumbling ground, the soil giving way beneath her.
Her mud stained body lay gently against his, and he sighed with relief once he felt the soft heartbeat against his own. And the warmth of her light breath against his cool chest made him feel whole at last, he had done it. He had woken her.
——————
"Hey Stiles, are you up for a game of MarioKart?"
Peter called from down the hall. As it turns out their apartments were only a few doors away from each other, and after a subtle gift from Mr Stark, both boys now had a console in their apartment for them to play video games with each other.
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, his whole body aching from the lack of sleep the past few nights after his last encounter with Sierra. Finding out what he had about himself and her had shaken him greatly. He knew that his powers were dangerous and a bad omen, but he never for one second thought they meant what they did. How on earth could the skinny, defenceless boy be the cause of the apocalypse? How could he be death?
