After going missing and found by Scott, Stiles begins to notice strange things about himself, very strange and disturbing things that s him wary of himself. Meanwhile, Sam is struggling with normalcy and being a witch. Something dark it making it's way to Beacon Hills. With lines drawn, alliances broken, trust no longer there, and some still dealing with the aftermath of the Kanima and The Argent's attack, can they pull themselves together to fight it. Meanwhile, one of the residences in Beacon Hills has taken a shine to Stiles.
This is a sequel to a fanfic I wrote titled Sam Mellal. Basically season 1-2. So, before reading this, I suggest you head over to Fanfiction.net to read that.
Rated M just because mention of blood, graphic violence, drug use and language. I do not own Teen Wolf.
Stiles blinked rapidly as he opened his eyes.Why the hell do I feel like I was ran over by a truck? He thought as he tried to clear his blurry vision, which the light in his face was making any better. I feel worse than when Scott hit me on the forehead with his baseball bat.
Focusing slightly, he could hear mumbling voices. Very familiar mumbling voices. He looked above him and saw three blurry figures standing there. Narrowing his eyes, he really wished that he had something to help him see better…or that he could move but his arms felt like lead.
Groaning irritated to get their attention but it didn't work because their conversation continued. "…No Boyd, okay, I refuse to touch one of them." He heard a familiar voice. "We have Stiles back, so let's leave what we saw where we found it."
There was a derisive snort. "You mean where we found him?" he heard and for some reason, he knew that he had just been gestured towards meaning they were referring to him. Found me where? What are they talking about? His nose wrinkled at the scent of wet dog.
"That doesn't mean anything, Boyd!" Stiles blinked as his vision began to clear and he found himself staring up at the face of one of his best friends. He caught a hint of muddy brown eyes glaring ahead of him, tanned skin, curly black hair and a long sleeved red shirt. Scott McCall, one of his best friends. "We're just lucky we found him when we did."
"I agree." Stiles glanced over and saw Derek's third werewolf, Boyd, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a impassive look set on his face. It surprised Stiles because he and Boyd didn't have much interaction so his presence was a little out of character, he briefly wondered where Derek was. Eyeing Boyd's features, Stiles would have snorted, the stoic look like he practiced in a mirror. "Maybe he can tell us what happened."
"That wasn't exactly what I meant." Scott sighed out while scratching the back of his head. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened to Stiles if they hadn't found him when they did but that wasn't his main concern…it was how they found him. "We can leave what happened to them to the police."
"To who?" Stiles croaked out without a second thought. He winced at the grating sound of his voice, it sounded as if he's been chewing and swallowing broken glass. And his throat was burning from lack of hydration.
Two pairs of eyes turned to focus on him. Boyd's were slightly surprised while Sam's were relieved and happy. "You're awake!" the werewolf exclaimed smiling widely and walking closer to Stiles.
The scent of cheap cologne, soap and musk filled his nostrils when Scott leaned down and hugged him, burying Stiles' nose into his neck. It was familiar and comforting, Stiles couldn't help but feel like he missed the scent despite seeing the werewolf just the other day. Underneath the scent was the most peculiar scent that Scott's cologne couldn't hide.
Stiles's brows furrowed as he sniffed his friend trying to figure out what that scent was. He's never noticed his friend smelling like this before and it was making his stomach growl. "Uh, yeah I'm awake, but where am I? Why are you hugging me?" he questioned curiously.
Scott broke his embrace and stood up straight, while Boyd quirked a brow. "We're at Deaton's." the taller werewolf answered. "We brought you here so no one would question us." And then glanced over at Scott. "I don't know why he hugged you since you smell as if you haven't bathed in days."
Stiles blushed and glared at the werewolf for his caviler attitude. Scott rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Boyd." He ordered. "He's been missing for a week, where could he have taken a bath?"
Wait, what? Stiles thought as surprise shook him. "A week?!" he gasped pushing himself to sit up in the bed and looked around. As Boyd told him, they were in Deaton's clinic but in the back. "I was missing? Where the hell was I?" he reached forward and grabbed Scott's by his arms, not noticing the werewolf wincing as he did so.
"Um, we found you in the woods a couple cities over." Scott shortly before tearing his arms from Stiles grips and resisted the urge to rub at them.
A couple cities over? Stiles quirked a brow and then that's when he heard it. It was like a thumping sound and it quickened after a moment before settling down at an easy pace. What the hell is that sound? He questioned briefly before dismissing it. "A couple cities over where? How did I even get there?"
Scott turned from Boyd, who he seemed to be having a silent conversation with, to look at him. His eyes were guarded and tinted with worry. "You-you weren't in a specific city, Stiles, we found you in the woods." The strange thumping sound quickened. "And how you got there? I don't know." It slowed again.
"You don't know how I got there? What did I just wake up in the middle of my bed…" Stiles trailed off and tried to remember anything from a week ago. He remembered leaving his father's office and heading home…but he doesn't remember actually making it there and he couldn't remember anything after.
His head was starting to hurt and his throat was starting to burn. "Ugh, I can't think about this now, can someone please get me water?" he asked irritably, he'd think once he was hydrated.
Boyd stared at him blankly before grabbing the bottle on the table beside him and tossing it at Stiles carelessly. "Boyd!" Scott hissed reaching his arm forward to stop the bottle from hitting his sluggish friend but it was futile.
A hand snatched the bottle from the air. Stiles clutched the bottle in his hand and untwisted the top before placing the drink to his lips and tilting his head back. Eight swallows was all it took for the bottle of water to be completely empty.
But he was still thirsty.
Stiles tore the drink from his lips and looked up at Scott. "I need another one, I'm still thirsty, why am I so thirsty?" he demanded, his throat was burning with a desire for something but he didn't know what.
"My mom and Deaton said you would feel that way if you hadn't been keeping yourself hydrated over the last week."
Stiles's head jerked back. "Wait, your mom knows I was missing? Wait, again, does my dad know I was missing? Wait, a third time, who all knows I was missing?" He was beginning to panic. What the hell happened? How did I go missing for so long?
Scott sighed. "Stiles, would you calm down?"
Calm down?! Stiles wanted to yell at the top of his lunges but his mouth and throat was still dry. He's been missing for the last week, had no recollection of where he was or what happened, and he was dirty! But, despite himself, he didn't because of those big brown eyes pleading with him.
Once he noticed Stiles' heart beat slowed down, he regarded his friend calmly. "Are you calm?" Scott asked.
Stiles nodded his head. "Are you sure?" Boyd chimed in with a condescending smile. "You still look a little frustrated and tense, maybe we should just wait to tell him anything." There was a knowing glint in the taller werewolf's eyes.
Stiles wanted to gouge those eyes from his skull. He shook his head for a moment as oa wave of heat hit him and made him slightly uncomfortable. It was becoming a little hard to concentrate.
"Boyd!" Scott snapped reprimanding causing Boyd to roll his eyes again and turn his head when his phone beeped. Seeing Boyd's attention now on his phone, Scott turned back to Stiles. "We didn't want your dad wondering where you were so we told him that you went to Los-Angeles to pick up Sam and Isaac from the air port while we tried to find where you were and it took us a while because we didn't have Sam but we got help from someone else."
"Who?" Stiles asked.
Scott seemed hesitant to answer and Stiles was stumped why that would be. Who could have helped them that would make Scott not want to answer? He glanced over at Boyd, who shrugged his shoulders uncaringly. Scott faced Stiles. "It's no one important."
There was a loud thump. Is Scott lying to me? It was instinctive and he didn't know where he got it from but for some reason he felt that Scott was lying to him. Shaking his head, Stiles listened for that thumping sound but it was gone.
Boyd looked up from his phone to see Stiles staring distractedly at the wall behind Scott while the werewolf eyed him worriedly. Boyd didn't blame him, Stiles was becoming paler than usual and clammy while his eyes were starting to look a little red. "Hey." He whispered to Scott, who turned to him. Boyd tossed the cell phone to his fellow werewolf.
Catching it, Scott sent an imploring look at Boyd before looking down at the phone. He frowned reading the text, there was a hint to anger in his feature before he turned off the screen and tossing it back to Boyd. Quickly schooling his features, Scott smiled tensely at Stiles. "Hey, we're going to go get you more water, while don't you lay back?" he asked.
"What?" Stiles questioned trying to fight the yawn that wanted to make its way out of his mouth but it did. "I'm fine, no need for that."
"We'll be quick, come on Boyd." Scott headed towards the door.
Boyd followed after him but not before stopping at the threshold of the door and looked over his shoulder. "He's right, you not only smell awful but you look awful, too." He crinkled his nose and smirked when Stiles glared at him irritated.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles laid back and tried to fight off the sleep that wanted to consume him. He was thirsty, hungry, irritated and hot. Sighing and closing his eyes, he decided to rest his eyes for a couple moments.
(A Week Later)
The skies were dreary and dark, the winds howling as gusts blew through the city kicking up debris and trash, and it was silent. Deafeningly so.
In the middle of the road stood Stiles Stilinski, staring ahead blankly, until he heard a shriek echo through the silence. He jumped and spun around, wide eyes staring in the direction of the scream. "Lydia?" he muttered worriedly before running in the direction of the scream.
Making a sharp turn into an alleyway. He ran deep into the alley, ignoring the darkness of the shadows casted by the full moon hanging high in the sky.
The whiskey-eyed boy came to a stop, breathing harshly and eyes even wider at what he was witnessing.
It was him.
It was him with his arms wrapped around the slim waist of Allison Argent. He had he dipped back, her head hanging back. His face was hidden in her neck while Allison allowed him to it to continue with her mouth wide open and eyes closed.
Stiles felt his heart pace become rapid and his mouth became dry at the sight. What the hell? He wondered, appalled. He would never do something like that to his best friend, nor does he see Allison in that light.
Suddenly, his head lifted from Allison's neck and Stiles' stomach churned at the sight of the glistening red substance on his face, covering from under his nose to his chin. Stiles took a step back as he stared into the black eyes of his doppelganger, so empty…except for the glint of hunger.
And then, his doppelganger smiled, showing his blood-coated fangs. It smiled as if it wasn't holding the corpse of one of his friends or as if his face wasn't covered in blood. "What's wrong, Stiles?" That isn't my voice. He thought fleetingly. "Oh, that's right, you've never had a girl this close to you, let alone your best friend's ex-soulmate." The doppelganger sneered at him, his words laced with venom.
The venom instantly stung Stiles, it made him want to take another step back but his body was frozen with fear. "I-I I don't understand." He stuttered confused and horrified.
Confusion flickered across the doppelganger's face and it tilted it's head like a innocent child. "You don't?" he asked and then smiled again, this smile sent a chill down Stiles' spine. "Well, let me enlighten you."
Stiles blinked and then, everything changed.
Suddenly, it wasn't a doppelganger holding Allison. It was a wolf-like creature standing on it's hides holding a bloody Lydia Martin. Stiles' eyes watched as the creature lifted its clawed hand high in the air, showing off its long black and sharp claws.
At an antagonizing slow speed, the creature lowered one claw to the center of Lydia's throat that was on full display.
Green eyes focused on Stiles, who still hadn't moved. "Help…please." She sobbed out. "I'm scared."
"I love when they beg, don't you?" Sharp red stained teeth were shown as the creature smiled just before digging the claw into Lydia's throat and quickly removing it. A large bead of blood began to build up on the open wound. The wolf purred as it lowered it's large head down and licked up Lydia's neck, wiping away the blood. "So, tasty," suddenly, black eyes were focused on Stiles, "why don't you have a taste."
Blood flew through the surrounding air, touching almost everything within range, and Stiles, who stood with his mouth open, was openly covered by blood.
Because the wolf dug all it's claws into the center of Lydia's chest before tearing her into two.
Whiskey brown eyes snapped open and Stiles threw himself up. His chest rose and fell with every heavy breath he took. He looked around and found himself staring at the mirror on the opposite side of the room.
Shaken glances were shot all around the room before Stiles threw the sheets from over his legs and stood from the bed before walking over the mirror and studying his reflection. His skin was paler than normal, there were slight dark circles under his eyes and his hair was wild.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real, it wasn't real." He chuckled slightly. "It wasn't real, it was just a dream." He sighed relieved and gave another chuckle but as quickly as it started, it stopped and he just stared into the whiskey brown eyes of his reflection.
This wasn't the first time he had a dream like that. He had them before; almost every night since Scott and Boyd found him and brought him home, but it was never that graphic nor had it ever featured Lydia or Allison dying.
That shook him to his core.
Suddenly, the quiet air was filled with the shrill ringing of his phone. He jumped and turned in the direction of the phone, which was on the nightstand next to his bed. Scottflashed across the screen and Stiles stared for a moment before turning away and ignoring the call.
He wasn't avoiding Scott but he wasn't in the mood to talk over the phone. After the phone stopped ringing, Stiles glanced over at it in time to see the time flash across the screen. "When did it become seven?" he groaned. It felt as if he hadn't gotten any sleep.
For a split second, Stiles thought of not going to school today and staying home. His dad was at work and wouldn't be back until after school ended, he wouldn't know. Plus it was the first day of school; no one would care if he missed the first day.
After a while of staring, Stiles' stomach growled and he pushed himself away from the mirror and walked out of his room. "Why do I feel as if I haven't eaten in weeks?" he wondered as he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.
He grabbed a bowl, a spoon, a box of cereal and a glass of water. He sat and poured his cereal as he grabbed the newspaper his dad must have grabbed and read already. His eyes scanned over the headlines and frowned. "Four teenagers have gone missing in the span of two weeks, there is still no lead on the four besides their identity listed below." Stiles recognized two of them, neither of them he knew personally but just seen them around their high school. Tilting his head, Stiles continued to read, not noticing a figure standing at his kitchen window before it disappeared.
After finishing his breakfast, he headed back up to his room and walked into his bathroom.If I shower, I'm going to be late but I can afford it. He shrugged off his clothes before turning on the showerhead and stepping underneath it.
His aching body soothed under the harsh pressure of hot water hitting his tense body.I haven't felt this tense since tryouts during freshmen year. He thought with a sigh and closed his eyes.
Almost immediately, a flash of his nightmare reared its head, displaying the monstrous face. His eyes snapped open and his breath hitched. He shook his head and began to scrub at his body, suddenly feeling dirty.
After cleaning himself off, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. Wrapping it around his waist as he walked over to the mirror. It was fogged up so he wiped it away enough for him to see his reflection.
Staring into the eyes of the reflection. He looked tired and that's because he was. God, what the hell is wrong with me? He wondered.
Also, in a bathroom, Sam stood staring into his reflection already dressed. His black hair was shaved into a fade haircut and with his long straightened locks of dyed auburn color making his sage green eyes and olive skin stand out. He wore a loose camouflage sports jacket, a tight black t-shirt, denim pants torn at the knees and thigh.
It's been three months since he's set foot in Beacon Hills after leaving for Italy with Isaac to visit his aunt Mary-Jean. Over the time he was gone, he hasn't been in contact with anyone with the exception of Stiles but it was only occasionally.
He didn't actively avoid speaking to anyone, sometimes he missed calls or he was too busy. He spent the entire summer touring around Italy and getting back to being himself. He promised himself that he'd let go of everything that happened here so he could enjoy his summer.
A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about it. Most of his time was spent with Isaac, someone who he could completely drop his walls around and just be himself, sometimes he spent his time with his aunt, who owned her own boutiques, and he even had visited the ancient Roman Gladiatorial arena with Santos, though Isaac tagged along.
He also picked up the new hobby of photography; he bought a camera and found himself enjoying photography as much as he enjoyed his arts. He has numerous pictures of their trip, some of them were of Isaac when he wasn't looking and some were just of the terrain.
Stepping away from the mirror and walking out of the bathroom, Sam walked into his bedroom inside his grandmother's house. He was planning on moving into the apartment about Santos's shop but...how can I leave the house my Grams loved?
Sighing, Sam looked around his room at some of the open boxes scattered across the floor. The urge to clean was great but he wouldn't have the time. He sat on his bed and pulled on his black shoes, glancing down as he did, he caught sight of something he hadn't touched in three months.
His grandmother's grimoir-his grimoire.
Sam picked the book up from the box and felt the hard cover of the book. He boxed it to move before he left and hadn't thought about it since. Just touching the book he could feel the old yet comforting magic radiating from it, his grandma's magic along with the thousands of spells, potion ingredients and personal entries engraved into it.
"This grimoire was started by my great-grandmother." He remembered his grandma saying. "She passed it down to my grandmother, who passed it down to my mother, who passed it down to me."
"Was it always this thick?"
A smile full of pride graced his grandmother's face and green eyes twinkled in delight. "Not before I got my hands onto it, oh I wish you could have seen my grandmother's face when she saw the book for the first time after two years of it being in my possession, she was practically beaming with pride!" Her gaze softened. "And I can't wait to see how much you put into this book."
Sam dropped the grimoire back into the box and kicked it, sending it sliding to the other side of the room until it hit the wall beside his closet. He felt guilty by not withholding the goals his Grams set for him. She wanted so badly for me to be the best witch I could be but…being a witch doesn't bring anything but…he trailed off thinking about everything that happened to him since becoming a witch. I failed, I can't be that witch she wanted me to be.
The witch stood from his bed and walked over to his desk where his black backpack was hanging off the back of the chair. Gathering all his notebooks, his art supplies and his camera supplies. He went to walk out of the door but paused next to his nightstand.
Turning, he leaned down and opened the drawer before pulling out a medium sized Ziploc bag holding five rolled up blunts of marijuana.
The last time he touched marijuana was before he was a witch, when he went through his rebellious stage. It's not exactly bad; it's no more of a drug than alcohol is. He thought as he placed the Ziploc bag inside his camera pack and zipped it closed along with his backpack. I probably won't need it for school but…just in case.
Downstairs, Isaac Lahey sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal, already dressed and ready for the day. The blonde glanced up and nodded when he saw his friend walk into the kitchen.
Sam took a seat beside him and grabbed the newspaper from the counter. "Good morning, ready for today?" he asked as he pulled the pennysaver from the paper and tossed the rest into the trash. Opening the drawer of the island, Dreux placed the papers inside and closed it.
Isaac shrugged his shoulders as he chewed his cereal and swallowed. "Nothing interesting other than the newspaper, there are four teenagers missing, two went to our school but the other two are from San-Francisco."
Frowning, Sam reached over the table and grabbed a banana from the bowl. "Oh." He said blandly.
The blonde watched his friend from the corner of his eyes before dismissing it and finished his cereal. "I talked to Scott yesterday." Isaac stated as he got up from the island and walked over to the sink before watching his dish.
"You did? When?"
"When you went to see Stiles."
"Oh." It was silent for a moment and Isaac wondered if he had done something wrong. He knew that Sam had been inactively avoiding his friend's messages and calls but he didn't really think the issue would last long over their trip away. "Well, I couldn't talk to Stiles anyways, he was asleep and hadn't been getting sleep for a few weeks from what his dad told me."
"What's wrong with him?" Isaac asked bluntly.
Green eyes glared up at him. "Nothing is wrong with him, he's probably having a hard time adjusting to what happened all last year." He defended his friend. He knew how it felt to feel knocked off his feet by what happened to and around them.
Isaac nodded with a roll of his eyes. He got the Stiles was human and defenseless but sometimes they made it seem like he was made of glass. Deciding that's the kind of thought that would get him in trouble so he changed the subject. "Well," he glanced up at the clock, "we'd better get to school."
Grateful for the change of subject, Sam nodded. "Alright, are you ready?" he asked.
Isaac nodded. "Yeah, let me just get my phone from upstairs." Sam watched as the werewolf walked out of the kitchen and stood from his seat himself but paused when something caught his eye out the window. He saw his neighbor, Mrs. Candace Carpenter. A woman his grams's age with shoulder length red hair and big blue eyes, sitting on her back porch on the swing chair. She was holding a leather jacket in her hands and was crying. Not sobbing but Sam could see her wiping her tears away.
Mrs. Carpenter was always a nice woman, even though her husband was a grumpy old man, she was pleasant and brought him a lot of baked pastries since his grams died. Sometimes he would be there to answer the door and thank her, other times she'd use the key he gave her to get in his house and leave some behind for him.
He walked out of the back door and off his back patio before crossing from his yard to hers. She didn't turn to look at him, probably, because she see or hear him, so when he made it onto her porch, he coughed.
It startled her from her thoughts and she quickly turned her head and wiped her eyes before addressing him with a smile and red eyes. "Samuel, it's so good to see you back, when did you get back? How was your trip? Where did you go again?" she asked kindly but her voice was a little hoarse.
Sam was hesitant to approach the subject of why she was crying so he indulged in her attempt to take the attention away from her pain. "I got back yesterday, my trip was great, I had a really good time." He told her. "And I went to Italy."
Mrs. Carpenter's eyes dropped down to the leather jacket. "Yeah, that's the place…you know my husband took me to Italy for our first anniversary." She told him causing Sam to frown and glanced down at the leather jacket. Her husband, Phillip Carpenter, wore a jacket just like…Sam looked back up at Mrs. Carpenter, she never seen her sitting out here with Mr. Carpenter. "Mrs. Carpenter…where is Mr. Carpenter?" he asked hesitantly because he was kind of afraid to know the answer.
Fresh tears swelled up in her eyes but she closed them. "Oh, dear, Phillip…he-he died two months ago." She whispered. "He had a heart attack and died in his sleep." She instantly began sobbing filled with sadness and pain. "And as if that wasn't bad enough, my grandson went missing recently!"
Sudden and unexpectedly, pain struck Sam like lightening and it made him stumble back. "Oh, Mrs. Carpenter, I…" tears swelled up in the witch's eyes and he bit his bottom lip to stop a sob from escaping his mouth. Pain swarmed around in his chest…and he had no idea where it was coming from.
Did he want the man to die? No but he was never close with Mr. Carpenter like he was with Mrs. Carpenter. Was it sadness for the woman? The only people she had was her husband, her daughter and grandson who, despite being one of the biggest dicks at school, visited her a lot. "I'm so sorry." He apologized.
Mrs. Carpenter stopped sobbing after a moment and wiped her tears away. "Honey, you didn't cause any of this, there's nothing for you to be sorry for."
"I know I just…" He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Isaac standing there with wide eyes. "I-Isaac."
"We-we um…have to get to school." The blonde glanced between he two awkwardly.
Sam looked conflicted and Mrs. Carpenter immediately caught on. "It's alright, Sam, I will be fine and here with my daughter." She promised. "Go to school."
The witch hesitated before nodding. "Alright, I'll see you after school?"
"Of course, dear."
Once they were inside Sam's car, Isaac turned to him as he wiped away the tears on his face. "Okay, what was that?" he asked confused. "What happened?"
Sam sighed. "Her husband died and her grandson was one of the guys missing." He told Isaac as he started the car with a twist of his keys.
"Oh." It was quiet for a moment as Sam pulled off. "Were you close with her husband?"
"No, not at all." Sam stated.
Isaac's brows furrowed with confusion. "Then why the tears?"
Sam mirrored his face as he glanced at the blonde. "I-I don't know." He mumbled. "I mean, I like Mrs. Carpenter a lot and I don't dislike Mr. Carpenter but hearing of his death shouldn't have made me feel that way." It was weird and strange but once Mrs. Carpenter started crying, it was like he shared her pain.
Blue eyes stared at him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe you cared a lot more than you thought." He guessed.
"Yeah, maybe." Sam mumbled as he turned a corner.
Hey everyone, here's another attempt at creating a sequel to my Teen Wolf Fanfiction Sam Mellal. I'm going to take my time with this one to make sure it stays on track with where I'm trying to go with the plot.
Anyways, tell me what you think of this chapter. About what happened with Stiles, about what happened with those missing kids, about what happened to Sam at the end.
See you next chapter where Lydia, Scott, Allison and new faces will be making their appearances.