robinonadderall | The Motel Glen Capri

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The Motel Glen Capri | Evening

Thanks to traffic and the delay at the rest stop the cross country team had no choice but to stop somewhere for the night. Since they were in the middle of Nowhere, California options were limited in the way of hotels but eventually the bus stopped at a motel that looked like it had seen better days. A neon green sign that said "Motel Glen Capri" seemed to be designed in a way that looked glamorous but Stiles thought the place would be better suited in a Kubrick film.

"I've seen worse," Scott said as he and Stiles got off the bus.

Stiles lifted an eyebrow. "Where have you seen worse?"

Coach's annoying whistle blew again. "Listen up, the meet's been pushed back until tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the least amount of vacancies and the most willing to accept a bunch of teenage degenerates like yourselves. You'll be pairing up, choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions from you little deviants! Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!"

Stiles quickly grabbed Scott by the wrist and snatched a room key out of Coach's hand. He was not about to be ditched for Isaac. He could room with Boyd anyway and be werewolf pals.

The room's decor left a lot to be desired and Stiles thought it seemed like the kind of place that would be featured in one of those news specials where they put blacklights in hotel rooms. But it didn't stop him from flopping down on the bed. Scott seemed a lot more willing to discuss the darach thing now that he wasn't bleeding out.

"Okay so I have four," Stiles said, staring up at the ceiling. It was no cleaner than the rest of the room.

"Four?" Scott asked. "You seriously have four suspects?"

"Originally I had ten," Stiles said. "Well, nine, I guess. I had Derek on there twice."

"Stiles!"

Stiles rolled his eyes. You and your shipping, Scott. "I'm kidding, Scott, god."

"Okay so who's number one?" Scott asked. "Harris?"

"Just because he's missing doesn't mean he's dead." Which is why Stiles doubted Derek was actually dead.

"So if he's not dead our chemistry teacher is out committing human sacrifices?" Scott asked dubiously.

Stiles chewed on his lower lip. "Yeah I guess that sounded way better in my head."

"What if it's somebody else from school," Scott suggested. "Like remember Matt, we didn't know he was killing people."

Stiles sat up and gave Scott some stink eye. "Excuse me, sorry, what? Yeah, I did, I called that from day one, actually."

"Yeah but we never seriously thought it was Matt."

"I was serious, I was quite seriously serious. Deadly serious, actually, no one listened to me." As per usual.

"Who are the other three?" Scott asked, not listening to Stiles yet again.

"Derek's sister, Cora. No one knows anything about her." Stiles didn't trust her at all and he hadn't even met her yet. "Next, your boss."

"My boss?"

"Yeah, your boss," Stiles said. "I really don't like the mysterious all-knowing werewolf mentor thing he has going on, it freaks me out."

Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles didn't really expect him to go for that one since he had known Deaton for ages. "And the last one?"

"Lydia," Stiles answered quietly. "She was totally controlled by Peter and she had no idea, so..."

Scott gave Stiles a sympathetic look before looking up at the ceiling again with an odd look on his face. Something had been off all evening with him, though Stiles couldn't really put a finger on what it was. "I'm gonna go to the vending machine, want something?"

Scott waved a hand. "Whatever you want."

Helpful, Scott. Stiles just rolled his eyes and headed out of the room. The vending machine was on the ground floor of the motel and, while Stiles wasn't really optimistic about how good the food would be, he was hungry enough to deal with a few passed expiration dates. He wasn't the only person with that idea since he found Boyd standing in front of the machine, staring at the food with a weird blank look on his face.

"Yo!" Stiles greeted cheerfully. He always tried to be nice to Boyd, and not because he could crush him with a finger. He just seemed like a cool dude.

Boyd didn't seem to want to acknowledge Stiles' existence at the moment. He pressed a couple buttons on the machine, not even sparing Stiles a side glance.

"Hey, that was the same thing I was gonna get," Stiles said. He didn't get any kind of response from Boyd, but that didn't stop him from trying to be helpful when the crackers Boyd wanted go stuck in the machine. "Oh hang on, I've got a patented method for this, don't worry."

Stiles gripped the edge of the vending machine, intending to shake it in a way that had broken a vending machine almost a year before, but it turned out that wasn't really necessary. Because Boyd broke the glass of the vending machine with his fist instead. Boyd still kept the blank expression on his face when he calmly grabbed the crackers he wanted out of the machine and casually walked away.

That was...not very Boyd-like.

There was something weird going on here, Stiles was sure of that. He just didn't have enough evidence to do anything about it. So he stealthily grabbed a few items from the broken machine and headed back to the room.

Stiles had mostly put the Boyd thing in the back of his mind as he ate the snacks he had stolen. It wasn't until he was in the bathroom that he began to think that this was definitely something he had to put more focus on. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard Scott mumbling to himself in the next room. Concerned, Stiles stepped out of the bathroom to see Scott standing by the open window, his body clearly tense.

"Hey, Scott, you okay?" Stiles asked. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he frowned when he read the text Lydia sent. Need to talk. Just you.

Allison was pacing her and Lydia's room, looking clearly unnerved. Stiles couldn't blame her; apparently Scott had went weird and totally creeped on her while she was in the shower. "Last time I saw Scott like that it was during a full moon."

"There's definitely something off about him," Stiles agreed. "But it was actually Boyd that was really off. I watched him put his fist through a vending machine."

"See, it is the motel," Lydia said. She had somehow found out that the Glen Capri was home to the most motel suicides in the entire state of California. They had a counter and everything. A counter that had went up by three people in the last hour.

Lydia went over to the bedside table and pulling out the Gideon's Bible. "Either we need to get out of here right now or someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."

"Okay, just hold on, alright?" Stiles said, not wanting everybody to get ahead of themselves. "What if it's not just the motel. The number in the office went up by three, right?"

Allison caught on quickly. "You mean like three sacrifices?"

Stiles nodded. "What if this time it's werewolves?"

"Scott, Isaac and Boyd," Allison said.

"Maybe we were meant to come here." That would explain why they would stop at such a shitty place.

"Exactly!" Lydia said. "Exactly! So can we get the hell out of here now? Please?"

"Let me see this--" Stiles grabbed the Bible out of Lydia's hand and started flipping through it. He had noticed there were bits of paper sticking out of it randomly. When he fished one out he realized it was a newspaper clipping. "28-year-old Man Hangs Himself At Infamous Glen Capri."

Stiles shook the Bible out and more news clippings came flying out from between the pages. Every single one documented some sort of suicide that occurred in the hotel. Lydia lifted up an article. "Look, 217 on all of them. These are probably all the suicides that happened in this room."

"Every room has a Bible," Allison pointed out.

"There could be articles in all the rooms," Lydia said.

"That's a beautiful thing, most places leave a mint under the pillow," Stiles said sarcastically. "This one leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that occurred."

Lydia looked over at Allison. "I wonder if the room next door has one about the couple."

The three of them ran out the door and headed to the room next door, where Lydia had somehow heard a man and a woman shooting themselves earlier in the evening. Stiles jiggled the handle only to find it locked.

"That door was not locked before," Lydia said, sounding frustrated.

Allison shook her head. "Forget it, we need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here."

Suddenly a mechanical buzzing sound started coming from the other side of the locked door.

"I'm not the only one that heard that, right?" Lydia asked. A valid question, coming from her.

Allison frowned. "It sounds like someone trying to turn a handsaw on."

"A handsaw?!" Stiles didn't want to know how you knew that, Allison. He really didn't.

Somehow they managed to get the door open, and immediately Stiles could see Allison had been right. Someone had been trying to turn on a handsaw. Ethan was standing in the middle of the under-construction motel room with his shirt unbuttoned and looking like he was about to take the handsaw to his own stomach. Stiles had forgotten there were actually four werewolves in this motel at the moment.

"NO ETHAN, DON'T!" Stiles didn't even have to think about whether or not he should try to save Ethan from hurting himself, he was already moving to do it. Stiles grabbed at the handle of the saw, trying to wrench it away from Ethan's grip without hurting the either of them, but he really was no match against an alpha. They wrestled with the saw for a few moments before Stiles managed to get Ethan to stumble. Stiles pulled the saw away with a hard yank and went flying off to the side. He fell to the ground, barely catching himself in time to keep from getting a handsaw straight to the face.

If he made it out of this alive, Derek was probably going to kill him.

Allison grabbed Stiles by the arm, pulling him safely away from the handsaw, which fell silent when Lydia pulled the plug. Stupidly, Stiles thought that maybe that would be the end of Ethan trying to gut himself but, with a flick of his hand, his claws were out and he was trying to disembowel himself yet again.

This time both Allison and Stiles went to stop Ethan, the both of them grabbing an arm each and trying to keep Ethan from hurting himself. Ethan struggled, thrashing around as he desperately tried to dig his claws into his own stomach. He managed to break free of Allison and Stiles' grip, stumbling a bit and running into a portable heater. There was an audible hissing noise as the heater burned his arm.

And just like that Ethan's demeanor changed. The blank, ultra-focused look on his face was gone, replaced by one of confusion. He looked at the three humans in the room, as if he just noticed they were there. "What just happened?!"

Ethan didn't wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and ran out the door, Stiles following after him immediately. "Ethan, wait. Ethan!"

"I don't know what I was doing," Ethan said as he made his way down to the ground floor of the hotel. It was a little surreal, talking to Ethan like this. Technically he was part of the pack that had killed Derek, but Stiles felt a little bad for him. He looked genuinely confused about what just happened.

Didn't mean Stiles was about to be polite though. "You could be a little more helpful here, we did just save your life."

"You probably shouldn't have," Ethan said before heading back into his room.

Lydia sighed and put her hands on her hips. "What now?"

"I'll find Scott," Allison said. "You guys find Isaac and Boyd, the best thing we can do is get them out of this place."

Allison headed back upstairs, leaving Lydia and Stiles alone. The encounter with Ethan had left him drained, and knowing somewhere Isaac, Boyd and Scott were getting their heads messed with and on the verge of killing themselves was making it so he was not worrying about covering up his emotions like he usually would. So if he was eyeing Lydia suspiciously it probably didn't come off as subtle at all.

So of course she noticed. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm not, I'm--"

"Stiles!" Lydia snapped.

Stiles sighed. "Alright, Lydia, I didn't want to say anything, but this, everything we're going through we've kind of been through something like this before. A lot like this."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "When?"

"Your birthday party, the night you poisoned everyone with wolfsbane." Stiles wasn't even a little bit surprised when that caused Lydia to stomp away from him. He followed, of course. He wasn't about to leave her alone right now.

"Lydia, I'm sorry, look, I didn't mean that you were trying to kill people. I just meant that maybe, maybe, you're somehow involved in getting people to kill themselves!" Wait. "Which now that I say that out loud sounds really terrible so I'm just gonna stop talking--"

Lydia stopped walking, though Stiles didn't think it was because of anything he said. Her head was tilting to the side like she was listening for something that she couldn't quite hear right. "Stiles, do you hear that?"

She bent down towards a grate on the ground, clearly able to hear something that Stiles couldn't it. "What is it, Lydia?"

"A baby crying. I hear...water running," Lydia said in a hushed tone. "Oh--oh my god, she's drowning the baby! Someone's drowning!"

Lydia took off, running at full speed towards one of the motel rooms. She clearly knew where she was going so Stiles followed after her, hoping they weren't too late. Lydia threw open the door to one of the rooms and Stiles pushed past her and headed straight for the bathroom. He didn't know what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Boyd laying down in a bathtub full of water with the room safe weighing down his chest.

Stiles scrambled towards the tub, immediately trying to pull out the plug in order to drain the water. Air bubbles were still coming out of Boyd's mouth but Stiles found he couldn't look at him for too long. Guilt welled up in his chest. He shouldn't have let Boyd leave when he realized he was acting strange at the vending machine. This was his fault...

"It won't come out," Stiles said, giving up his effort at getting to the plug. "He clogged the drain with something."

"What do we do?" Lydia asked hysterically.

"Help me lift the safe!" It was a longshot, but they had to try something. As predicted, even with Lydia and Stiles together they couldn't get the safe to budge even a little.

"Is he dead?" Lydia asked. "How long can werewolves stay under water?"

"Do you really think I know that?! It's too heavy!" Stiles said, jerking away in frustration, only to hit his arm against the old fashioned heater all the rooms had. "Ow, fuck!"

Hold on...

"Wait. Wait, the heater," Stiles said, eyes widening in realization. "Ethan came out of it when he hit the heater."

Lydia was still crouched over the tub, looking more distraught the longer Boyd was under water. "What?"

"Heat! Heat!" Stiles yelled. "Fire, heat does it, we need something--"

"HE'S UNDER WATER!" Lydia shouted.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that!" Look, he was excited he found a solution to this, he hadn't far enough ahead to figure out a plan to get the solution to work yet.

"Wait, the bus, on the bus," Lydia said, standing up to face Stiles. "They have emergency road flares, they can oxidize under water."

He knew there was a reason why he fell in love with her years ago. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, go!"

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He ran out the door and headed to where the bus was parked. He had never moved so fast in his life, but he had been running on pure adrenaline since Ethan had tried to take that handsaw to his stomach. He couldn't lose anybody tonight, he refused.

He grabbed two flares from the bus and ran back to the room as quickly as possible. Lydia had given up on trying to lift the safe and for some reason was staring at one of the beds with a horrified look on her face. No time to ask--"Hey, I got the flares. How do I do this?"

"The cap, it's like a match," Lydia explained hurriedly.

Stiles struggled with the flare for a moment, holding back a frustrated noise that would have sounded suspiciously like a sob. He had to get this, Boyd was dying--

Finally the flare lit and burned bright, casting a red tint in the room. Stiles ran into the bathroom and immediately shoved the flare into the water, pressing the flame against Boyd's arm. Boyd shot out of the water, wolfed out into his beta form, shoving the safe off of him and against the wall. Lydia backed up into Stiles' arms, the both of them unsure if Boyd was in his right mind or not.

Boyd was breathing heavily, looking just as confused as Ethan did earlier, but it quickly became apparent that he would be fine. His wolf features melted away to human ones

"You okay, Boyd?" At his nod, Stiles lifted up the other flare. "We need to find Isaac."

Lydia gave Stiles a look and pointed to the bed she was staring at earlier. Stiles frowned and lit up the other flare (much more easily than the first one, thank god) and headed towards the bed. He got down on his knees and lifted up the covers, peering under the bed. Isaac's head jerked up at the intrusion, looking absolutely terrified. Stiles thought it was a little odd he was hiding rather than trying to kill himself like Ethan and Boyd had, but that just made it easier to snap him out of his trance.

"Hey, Isaac. Got something here for you," Stiles said, right before jamming the flare under the bed and burning his shoulder.

Boyd and Isaac were understandably shell shocked, but both were back to their normal selves for the most part. They had agreed that it would be best to get out of the motel tonight and were gathering their things while Lydia and Stiles met up with Allison.

"I can't find Scott anywhere," Allison said.

Stiles felt a weight settle low in his stomach. "It's happening to him too, isn't it?"

"It has to be," Lydia said. "Is there another flare on the bus?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, I'll get it."

Turned out someone else had gotten to the flare first. Scott was standing by the bus holding the lit flare in his hand, looking absolutely wet and miserable. Stiles didn't understand why Scott was wet at first but as he got closer the smell of gasoline hit him like a brick wall. Stiles stopped a few feet from the puddle of gasoline surrounding Scott, more out of shock than his own self-preservation.

"Scott," Allison said, already sounding like she was choking up. "Scott?"

Unlike with Boyd and Ethan, Scott was aware they were there. He also looked utterly devastated, he didn't have that eerie blank look on his face at all. Scott looked between the three of them and shook his head. "There's no hope."

"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "There's always hope."

"Not for me," Scott said. "Not for Derek."

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm. Of course that's what this was about. Scott couldn't handle losing anybody he felt he was responsible for, and Scott felt responsible for everybody. If Derek hadn't already been dead he probably would have keeled over in shock to see how much Scott cared.

"Derek wasn't your fault," Allison said.

"Every time I try to fight back it just keeps getting worse," Scott said. "People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

Stiles wasn't surprised to feel tears welling up in his eyes when he opened them again. He knew how Scott was feeling, it was the same feeling he had when the kanima attacked last year. That feeling had never gone away for him, but he never had gotten to the point Scott was at now. That's how he knew something was wrong. Scott wouldn't do this, he wouldn't leave everybody behind. He wouldn't leave Stiles behind.

"Scott, listen to me, okay, this isn't you," Stiles said, trying to blink back tears. "Alright this is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay--"

"What if it isn't? What if it's just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing I can do for everyone else?" Scott asked, starting to cry freely. "It all started that night, the night I got bitten. Do you remember what it was like before that? Just you and me?"

Stiles nodded. Of course he remembered. Things were easier back then. Not better, necessarily, but easier. Just the two of them, with their biggest problem being first line in lacrosse and maybe getting a date to Homecoming.

"We were nothing. We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one," Scott said, all of his focus on Stiles now. "I was no one. Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all."

This couldn't be happening. This had to be some sort of a nightmare, this whole night. He was not standing here watching his best friend trying to kill himself. Scott was supposed to be the optimist, the one who could do anything no matter the odds. Stiles couldn't stand there and watch this. He couldn't lose anybody else. If he lost Scott--he couldn't even imagine what he'd do. There was nothing if he lost Scott. He didn't think he'd be able to function.

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing this would be the only chance he had at saving his best friend. "Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not no one. Okay, you're someone. Scott, you're my best friend, and I need you." He knew there wouldn't be a blip in his heartbeat when he said that because it was nothing but the truth. "Scott, you're my brother."

"So, if you're going to do this," Stiles said, taking the last steps forward until he was standing in the gasoline with Scott. "You're just gonna have to take me with you."

This was a huge risk, he knew that. He knew that if he survived this it would be yet another thing he kept from his father and Derek because they wouldn't understand. Stiles believed in Scott, and he knew that his best friend could beat this. If he couldn't...well, Stiles hadn't been lying when he said he needed Scott. He wouldn't be able to deal with Scott's death, he knew that after the panic this afternoon.

Despite knowing this, he really didn't want to die right now. Stiles approached Scott slowly, trying not to startle him into dropping the flare. Scott was crying and shaking slightly and Stiles realized he was doing the same. He slowly reached out until he could wrap his hand around the flare and pull it away from Scott gently. Then he quickly tossed it away where it couldn't set him and Scott on fire.

Scott bowed his head, shoulders shaking as he started crying harder. Stiles was about to pull him into a hug when he heard Lydia scream behind him. A split second later he was tackled from behind and both he and Scott landed on the concrete hard when an explosion went off at the spot they had previously been standing.

Guess he didn't throw that flare far enough.

It was a miracle nobody inside seemed to notice the explosion that happened right in front of the hotel, but Stiles was too tired to even wonder about that. It took awhile for everyone to calm down after the events of the evening, but eventually he, Lydia, Allison, Scott, Boyd and Isaac gathered their things and settled down to sleep on the bus for the night. Lydia and Allison fell asleep almost immediately and Stiles could hear Isaac snoring from his spot in the back. He had the feeling Boyd and Scott were awake but neither of them said anything when he stepped off the bus.

Stiles was physically exhausted, but sleep wasn't happening at the moment. He had too much to think about and some part of him was terrified he'd wake up in the night and find the werewolves gone again. He stepped off the bus and wandered away a few feet until he was sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, facing the motel. His phone was in his hand but he wasn't sure if he wanted to call anybody. For now he'd just sit and try to push ugly thoughts out of his head so he could sleep later.

[Like the cut says warning for multiple mentions of attempted suicide. Taken from Teen Wolf 3x06 "Motel California". NFB and the post is open for one! There's an OOC thread too, sure]

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Like it says.

After sleeping more than normal and possibly eating half of the fridge's contents--sorry, Mike--Derek had finally checked his phone . To find no 'I'm alive' message from Stiles.

Where are you

He expressed his concern in a healthy, totally non-possessive manner. Really.

Stiles jumped when he felt his phone buzzing in his hand, his nerves being completely shot at the moment. He sighed when he read the text, even if he was grateful to have confirmation that Derek was alive.

I'm fine.

Not only did it not answer the question but it was a lie. Oh well.

Well, this Derek might have been having slow-mo sex with Mike as they tenderly dressed his wounds. You don't know. That shit could have totally happened. Then what?

Derek huffed, putting the TV on mute in order to focus on being creepy at a teenage boy.

Good, he typed out. Then added a quick, I'm not dealing with Barton if you get hurt.

Oh yeah, he nailed indifference despite going out of his way to contact Stiles.

Yeah that earned Derek another eye roll. Not that he could see it.

I don't think Mr. Barton can blame you if I die out here.

He'd find a way.

And so would Derek's guilt issues!

That was...likely true. It was just how Clint worked.

Point. After a moment's contemplation he added, You okay?

He had a reason to be worried, okay? Werewolves were dying or almost dying left and right here.

Fine

He was fine, goddamnit.

Why?

WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO? MIKE, YOU BASTARD.

Am I not supposed to care for your wellbeing or...?" Yes, sarcasm worked way better than telling the truth and admitting how freaked out he was at the moment.

No, Stiles. No, you may not.

Answer your phone, he sent before hitting dial. Because that way he could hear a heartbeat in case someone was lying to him. Someone meaning Stiles.

"Shit," Stiles hissed, waving Scott off when he saw his head pop up from a bus window. Not that Stiles was dumb enough to think he wouldn't be listening for more fangirl material.

He seriously considered not answering for a moment, but figured it was better to do this now than face to face. "What?"

"Stiles." Crap, he hasn't thought far enough ahead for what to say next. C'mon, Derek. You can do this! Think of something! "Tell me you're fine. Slowly."

So he could listen for a lie.

"That seems stupid, why would I do that?" He was on to you, Derek.

"Stiles." So help him...

Stiles sighed, knowing this wasn't going to end well. "I'm. Fine."

Derek sighed back like the drama queen he was. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." Another lie. "Just a rough night. It happens, this is Beacon Hills. Well, it's technically not, but it has the same crappy vibe."

Derek was now trying to glower at you over the phone. He hoped you're happy, Stiles.

"Was it that killer you're looking for?" he ~~asked~~ demanded. "Or--where is Scott? Is Scott with you at least?"

You two little morons deserved each other. And he was the only person Derek vaguely trusted with Stiles' safety there. Due to actually knowing who he was. And not being an Argent.

"Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Boyd--you don't know them yet but they're good guy werewolves--I'm pretty well protected." Stiles was nice enough not tack on 'you overprotective psycho' to the end of that.

"And, yes, it was the darach. It was after werewolves this time."

EXCUSE YOU. HE BEAT SCOTT SEVERAL TIMES.

THOSE WERE FLUKES.

TELL THAT TO SCOTT'S BROKEN ARM.

*drops the mic and leaves*

CLINT WOULD DEFINITELY BLAME DEREK EVEN IF HE WASN'T THERE. Sorry, Derek. ONLY NOT.

OH YOU.

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For Derek!

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OOC

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