Turned (Sciles)

No ones pov:

Scott's claws go through mist as he rolls onto the unforgiving ground littered with sharp sticks and putrid animal flesh. His nose curls up in a snarl as he growls. The Hunter had been setting this up for days, with all the problems the team has been running into they had not noticed all the animals quickly disappearing from the town they called Beacon Hills. These rotting corpses had been a sacrifice for the gods to grant the Hunter his powers.

The Hunter's motives have been the same all along, draw the werewolves away so the spirit could play. The Hunter stalks around the McCall domain checking in windows and counting the escape routes. Stiles and Lydia sit in the kitchen, sipping on coffee in silence.

Scott tries taking another slice at the wisps of grey smoke. They fade where his luminescent claws graze the thick humid air. The smell of rotting meat grows stronger by the second, and so does the spirit of the Hunter. The small animals, squirrels and rabbits, shrivel up first, then following, the bigger ones such as deer and even a bear turn to husks. Scott and Derek watch as the spirit morphs from light grey to pitch black, sucking the blood of sacrifice into him as power. The pure evil being smiles wickedly and stands from his resting place. Derek swipes, this time his claws bury deep within the disturbing body. The man, who looks in every detail the same as the Hunter, pulls Derek's hand away. Black ooze still connects in thick strings on his fingertips to the sizable hole. The werewolves mouths hang open. The monster disappears leaving a burning worry in Scott's heart. "We need to get to Stiles now!" Scott runs faster than he ever thought he could in the direction of his house where a large dark man enters through the living room window.

There is a cold draft that makes Lydia shiver and stand. The sound of her teeth clicking together as she looks for a blanket rattles through Stiles's mind. She steps out into the walkway, her bare feet shuffle on the once warm wooden floors making an eerie swooshing noise like a ghost sliding. Stiles gets a glimpse of something casting a shadow on the kitchen wall just for a second before it disappears. He starts to shake and slowly moves to face the living room knowing that Lydia is too far to cast that dark of a shadow. The living room has a black sheen to it, where the window should be emitting the moonlight it is oozing more and more darkness through the small opening. He wants to get up, he wants to run, he wants to warn Lydia, he wants to scream. All Stiles can do is give an inaudible squeak. Lydia reaches the stairway. She goes to take a step and stops herself, she can feel a subtle warm gush of air above her head. Her breath hitches. The Hunter with broad shoulders towers over the strawberry blonde banshee. From the corner of Lydia's eye she can see Stiles not moving, eyes wide with horror and fright. Lydia ever so slowly turns, her face is met with a the Hunter's chest. Her light green eyes sweep her head up to peer into the Hunter's menacing pale yellow smile.

Scott's feet tare through the dirt as he is blocks from his home, from the Hunter, and from Stiles. His feet pound and echo on the dead street's pavement.

The Hunter wraps is big hand around Lydia's neck, Scott crashes through the living room window. Glass litters the cold wood. Scott growls. The Hunter turns to him bringing Lydia off the ground. She claws at his hands slowly turning bright red trying to gasp for breath. Stiles stands making the floor creek, Scott looks at Stiles. This is all the Hunter needs for his lap dog spirit to form from the darkness and grab Scott from behind. He thrashes but the grip is too strong even for the alpha. Stiles runs at them screaming. He is cut short by a painful stab in his head. Stiles falls to the shadow's feet, breath caught in his throat. The alpha brakes free and grabs Stiles's face unaware the old demon let him go on purpose. Scott receives a blow to the skull. A sickening crack makes bile fill Lydia's mouth. She spits it on the hunters face but he doesn't pay attention. The spirit presses his foot to Scott's airway. Scott claws at the wispy foot gasping. A gun is tossed in front of Stiles. "If you want to save them. Kill yourself." The hunter laughs wiping Lydia's mess off his face. He lessens his grip to let her breathe. He wants them to all see their friend blow his brains out.
Click.
Bang.
Splat.
The gun tatters to the floor, the smell of gunpowder licks into everyone's noses. The hunter falls over holding his stomach laughing. He spits out blood with every awful chuckle. Lydia, who is now free, collapses on her knees. The spirit slowly melts through the floor. There is a sniffle followed by a girl's voice braking as she watches her father bleed to death. Abigail's glowing crimson eyes overflow with tears, her hand is still up hovering in the air. The very hand she used to shoot her own dad...trembles. "I-I'm. So," She gasps and wheezes, "Sorr-rry daddy." Stiles's eyes are glazed over with tears. Scott stays completely still rewinding the events over and over trying to make sense. Everyone stares into the blood wondering if it was their own. If they were dead. If they were the hunter taking his last breath on Scott's floor.

Within the following week they burned the Hunter's body and buried his ashes in the meadow. He became just another face on the missing list that had the police department baffled. Abigail disappeared that night too. Only, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia all knew she left to live a few states over secluded from civilization until she learned to control her inner Goddess. She didn't speak as she left. She simply handed Scott a note and dissipated.

Scott's POV:

Stiles slept at my house that entire week. Sheriff Stilinski agreed without hesitation. Almost as if he was glad his son wouldn'it be home. I found it odd but i'm not complaining considering I've gotten to take care of Stiles. I carefully lay down behind him, wrapping my arm around his waist. He has barely left my bed. I stick my nose in his hair and huff. He brings his frail fingers up to mine and slowly traces invisible lines over every knuckle. "Scott?" I smile fondly and place a single kiss on the back of his neck. "Yes?" His heart rate speeds up hammering in both his chests and my ears. "I, well. Please don't be mad." He turns over and faces me. "Scott, I still have frontotemporal dementia. I only have a month or two. Then I will slowly fade before dying." His voice cracks. I hold my breath in. All those times I smelled it and I just assumed. All those times he had a headache or wasn't feeling good. I should have known. I calmly breathe out before sucking more air in. "Please Scott. Say something... Anything." Tears stream down his beautiful face. His eyes slowly becoming pink from his crying. "I love you." The words slip out of my mouth at barely a whisper. His face crinkles up and he buries his face into my shirt while squeezing me. I close my eyes and let tears of my own slip down. "Stiles? Please." He starts to shake but looks up at me. "Please let me turn you Stiles." I'm asking so much of him. I know I am but I can't lose him after all that we have been through. He comes close and whispers. "I love you too." Before nodding. He is trying to be strong but I see through him. "It will be over soon. You will feel so much better." He holds in his cries and turns his head while pulling down his shirt collar. I let myself transform and look at him once more. His nods at me again and covers his mouth with his free hand. I swing my leg over so that I'm on top of him. I slowly lean in and hold him still as I sink my teeth into his shoulder.