𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃
so much pain for someone so young

HOPE WAS AWOKEN by a loud ringing noise. She jerked upwards and frowned at the darkness of her room before grabbing her phone off of her bedside table.

​ She let her one of her hands sweep over her face as she grabbed ahold of her buzzing phone, sliding her thumb across the screen before propping up her back against the wall. "Hello?"

The only sound she received was someone's nervous and heaving breathing on the other end.

Dread filled her tiny body as she pulled her phone away from her ear to see the caller ID. It was Stiles. Sitting up straighter, she became panicked at the sound of his wavering breath. "Stiles? Stiles, are you there?" A lump formed in her throat as he didn't answer for the longest time.

"Hope?" A quiet voice asked, cracking.

"Hey, I'm here," Hope rushed out, frantically pushing the blankets off her legs before allowing her feet to dangle off the side of the bed. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

​"Hope, I don't — I don't know where I am," Stiles began, his voice had been so low and quiet that Hope was having trouble hearing what he was saying. "I don't know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking."

A wave of pure panic coursed through the auburn haired tribrid, enough that she felt like throwing up. Just the idea of anything remotely bad happening to him had her jumping out of her bed, throwing on jeans and some shoes. "Can you see anything? Just tell me what you see, Stiles."

"Ah," Stiles pondered for a moment before he continued, "It's dark - it's hard to see. I think there's something wrong with my—"​

The call suddenly dropped and she had been left with a black screen as she ran from her room and into Scott's. She redialed his number as she slapped Scott on the back harshly, waking him up.

"What's going on? Are you okay, Hope?" He asked, his voice thick in both confusion and tiredness. But, once he saw her panicked state, he sat up quickly. "What happened?!"

"It's Stiles," was all she needed to say before he stood up, tripping on a shirt and some shoes. "Somethings wrong."

Just as she ended the failed called, her phone began to buzz in the palm of her hand. She quickly accepted the call, placing the device against her ear, knowing Scott will listen in. "Stiles?!"

"Hope, I don't think I can get out of here," he explained, voice quivering with fear. "I can't move." ​

Her chest was heaving up and down as she paced back and forth, running a hand through her alright knotted hair. "Where are you? Come on, Stiles, I need you to help me so that I can come and find you, okay?" It didn't even register in her mind that she is a witch that can do locator spells because of how panicked and scared she was.

"I don't know - I don't know, it's too dark. I can't see much and something's wrong with my leg." Stiles replied, his voice cracking. Hopes breath got caught in her throat as she turned her head to stare at Scott who looked terrified at the thought of his best friend being hurt. "It's stuck on something. And it's...I think it'a bleeding."​

"How bad? Stiles, how bad is it?" Scott asked, no longer being able to stay quiet when his friend is hurt and possibly dying.

"Stiles!" Hope exclaimed when the only answer was silence. "Are you there, Stiles? Can you hear us? Say something, please — talk to me," she begged, the tears that she had been holding back, escaped and skidded down her cheeks. "I need you to talk me, Stiles, come on, say something." Her chest was burning at the harsh reality of the situation.

"Ah, there's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible; it's brutal, my eyes are watering," Stiles explained, the sound of his heavy breathing ringing through her ears.

"We need to call his dad," Scott spoke up, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

"No, no, no, no, don't," Stiles argued.

Hope shook her head despite knowing he couldn't see her, "But your dad—"

"Don't," Stiles reprimanded. "Just please don't call him. Guys, promise me you won't call him. He already worries about me too much. Hope, please," he begged, sounding as if he would rather die than have them tell his father what had happened.

"Stiles, I don't think I can promise you that," Hope told him softly, pacing back and forth. "Stiles, I—" She stopped pacing and looked up at Scott. "I'm a witch. I can do a locator spell to find you." She swore she heard a chuckle in the background of Stiles' call, but figured she was just hearing things.

"Yes, a witch," Stiles paused, sniffling, "you can find me. I have faith in you, Hope. Just find me please."

A darkness felt like it was looking over Hope, but she ignored it, thinking it was just her fear for Stiles' safety. "I'll find you."

Stiles sniffled once more, "Oh, I gotta call you back. I have to turn the phone off."

"What? No, hey, wait—"​

"I'm gonna call you right back."

"Hold on, wait Stiles—"

But he had already hung up.

Hope took in a deep breath before her eyes glowed brightly in the dark room, her hands balling into fists. She then turned around quickly and punched the wall harshly, making a gigantic hole. "Crap!" She exclaimed before her shoulders slumped and she slid to the floor. "I can't lose him." She looked up through her eyelashes at Scott, tears shining in both of their eyes. "I can't lose him, Scott."

He nodded and slid down to the floor with her. "And that's why we'll find him. Okay? I can't lose him either. We'll work together and we will find him." He pulled her into his arms and then looked towards his bedroom door. "Isaac!" He shouted and suddenly, the blonde bursted through the door.

"I heard Hope scream!" He shouted and then his blue eyes landed on their hunched forms. "What happened?!" He hasn't seen Hope like this since she killed Nyx, so it worried him a lot. "Are you okay?"

Hope sniffed lightly and looked over Scott's shoulder at the blonde. "It's Stiles."

"What's wrong with Stiles?" He asked, hesitantly walking closer to them, his brows furrowed. 

Scott tightened his hold on Hope. "We don't know."

Before anything else could be said, Hope's phone rung again and she quickly answered it. "Stiles?!"

"Did you call him?" Stiles whispered into the phone. "Did you call my dad?"

She, once again, shook her head in response knowing that he couldn't see her. "No, Stiles, I don't want to worry him too much, not until we find you. But, I will find you. Can you help me at all, tell me what you see around you?"

"It's a basement," Stiles informed. "I don't know, some kind — some kind of basement. It's big though, so it's not a house. Like industrial. I think there's a furnace, but it's cold. It's freezing down here. I gotta turn the... I gotta turn the phone off. It's going to die."

"Wait, wait, wait," Hope quickly sputtered out, pulling out of Scott's arms and standing up. "What else is there? What do you see?"

"The phone's dying — I can't talk. I have to go... please."

"Stiles, why are you whispering?" Scott found himself asking.

"Because I think there's someone in here with me."

Hope looked at the boys with wide eyes full of horror. "We need to find him. Now."

THE TRIBRID LOOKED up at the Stilinski household, her heart clenching tightly. On each side of her, Scott and Isaac stood.

Taking in a deep breath, trying to calm herself before her magic gets too out of control, Hope straightened her shoulders and quickened her pace.

By the time Hope managed to stumble her way up the stairs, her heart was racing so fast that she thought it was going to hammer it's way out of her chest.

Hope opened up the door to Stiles' bedroom and then frowned at the sight of Lydia and Aiden. "How did you know?" She asked, looking to the redhead.

Lydia shook her head. "I heard it."

She knew what that meant, and Hope swallowed the thought and feelings that brought. She wasn't going to allow anything to happen to Stiles. Not ever.

To the left of the strawberry-blonde, Aiden piped in, "Don't ask. It gets more confusing when you ask."

Isaac's eyes were wide, slowly nodding his head. "Okay," he whispered, glancing at Hope seeing as he was worried for her mental state.

"Not as confusing as this," Lydia announced, making all of them focus their attention on the horrific work of destruction created by their friend.​

Every single piece of information that Stiles had conjured up, all of the hours and days and weeks he had spent printing out pictures and developing theories, all had long pieces of bright red string attached to them. Some of them crossed paths and some of them even led to the same bit of information more than once, but the origin of each one all came from the exact same place, and it happened to be the center of the bed that Stiles slept in. A pair of scissors was imbedded deep in the mattress, the strings tied to the handles.

Hope had trouble swallowing the lump in her throat and dread filled her whole entire body. "He uses red for unsolved cases."

"Maybe he thinks he's part of an unsolved case?" Aiden asked, his head pivoting as he glanced over at the bed before returning his attention back to Scott, Isaac, and Hope.​

Isaac blinked a few times. "Or is an unsolved case."

"Hold on," Lydia turned around to face them, green eyes wide. "Is he still out there?"

Hope slowly nodded. "That's why we're here. I want to try and do a locator spell to indicate where he is."

Lydia's pale green eyes moved to Hope's face, knowing that she had been the one that Stiles had called earlier that night. "Hope, what else did he say?"

Hope shifted her weight. "That something's wrong with his leg — it's bleeding. And, um, he thinks someone is with him."

Aiden frowned, glancing over at Scott and Hope. "Tonight's the coldest night of the year. It's going to drop into the twenties."

"What did his dad say?" Lydia asked, keeping her eyes on Hope, her having been the only one that actually spoke to Stiles.

Hope paused. "I promised not to say anything, not right now anyway. Not while he is out there when there is a way for me to find him." She began moving around the room, looking for something personal to Stiles, trying to ignore the glare Lydia was giving her.

"You promised you wouldn't call his dad," Lydia began, her hands beginning to dial Sheriff Stilinski's phone number. "I didn't."

Scott stepped forward. "Wait, Lydia, hold on. I can get more help — I can call Derek, Allison..."

Aiden narrowed his eyes. "You guys remember she gets these feelings when someone's about to die, right?!" He snapped.

Everyone's attention quickly turned to Hope as everything in the room began shaking violently. And then, suddenly, a burst of blue light bursted out of Hope, a powerful force knocking them all back.

Wide eyed, Hope slumped a little, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in a sob. "I can't lose anyone else," she mumbled, her hands shaking violently at her sides. "I'm going to find Stiles and save him." Looking up, she stared at their surprises faces. "Call Noah. I'm going to do this locator spell."

HOPE WAS ALL alone in Stiles' bedroom while Scott and Isaac went to tell Noah about his son's disappearance. Lydia and Aiden was in the living room of the Stilinski household. Lydia was there for moral support if Hope finds out something terrible, and Aiden was there because of Lydia.

Hope was surrounded by a bunch of candles and a map of the whole town sat in front of her. She had Stiles' favorite shirt on her lap, hoping it'll help with the connection. There was black sand on the map that once she uses the spell, will circle around the location where Stiles is.

Closing her eyes, Hope chanted, ""Umbra Libre Invenio."

Suddenly, without warning, something else took over Hope as she began to get flashes. It was like the time her and Josie used dark magic to find where Landon was after he stole a powerful object from the school. But, instead, it was a lot clearer and she could feel Stiles' pain.

The tribrid's eyes shot open at this, her sapphire eyes widening at the feeling of something clamped down on her ankle. She began to strain her eyes, glancing around to get a better idea as to where she was; surrounded by trees, grass, and jagged rocks.

Suddenly, she was slammed with a pungent scent, and she stumbled back in disgust.

"Who's there? Who are you!" Stiles' voice echoed loudly in her ears.

"Not who are you, Stiles," an unfamiliar voice sparked in the distance. "Who are we? It's getting colder, Stiles. Did you notice that we've stopped shivering? Do you know why that's a bad sign?"

"It's the body trying to conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report — hypothermia." Stiles explained, pain shooting up his and Hope's leg as he struggled against the bear-trap.

"Our speech is starting to thicken," the faceless man announced. "Then comes fatigue. Confusion. We're going to die if we don't get out of here."

Anger bubbled within Stiles. "Stop saying that. Stop saying we."

This vaguely felt familiar to Hope. It was like how the Hollow spoke to her in her mind when she was seven and when she was fifteen.

The man didn't seem fazed. "We're just trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get up, Stiles."

Hope gasped as she was moved with a force from an unknown source. It was like she was paralyzed and stuck in a dream, which sucks because that has happened a lot to her when she was younger.

Suddenly, her body brushed up against something. She reached out almost as if she was in a trance, allowing her hand to run along the walls of the formation, feeling rocks.

A sense of familiarity hit her; she was in Malia Tate's coyote den.

Hope had to swallow down bile as she was suddenly shot forward, her eyes slamming open and she was back in Stiles' bedroom, clutching his shirt.

Furrowing her brows, she realized something else. Although she was in Malia's den, Stiles' mind seemed to be somewhere else. It confused her.

She recalled Stiles informing her on his trouble of sleeping and how sometimes he'll wake up in the living room or in the kitchen even though he fell asleep in his bed. So, they had both came to the conclusion that he was sleep walking. It wasn't that big of a deal at the time, but now Hope thinks it's happening again, but this time, it was a dangerous act.

Instead of sleepwalking into a random place in his house, he must've slept walked all the way in the woods, to Malia's den. And, he was dreaming that he was somewhere else, possibly being tortured or stalked. So, in conclusion, when he called her, he was still sleeping.

Hope's head began pounding as she thought about the whole experience. Because even though she found out that Stiles wasn't physically hurt, he was still out in the woods, in pajamas when it's freezing outside.

Jumping up, Hope quickly grabbed a hoodie from Stiles clothes pile on his dresser and took off out of his room and down the stairs.

She needed to get to him. And fast.

"Hope!" Lydia and Aiden shouted as she sped past them and out of the door. And they watched as she sprinted into the woods.

By the time she crossed through the last path to Malia's den, nearly falling on her own face, she felt her heart lurch into her throat. Ahead was the image of a struggling body, and she picked up her speed which was impossible because she was already pushing her limit.

Stiles was lying in the leave strewn den when Hope reached him and grabbed onto his leg. His pale eyelids were clamped shut — she had been right. "It's okay, Stiles," she spoke to him, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat as she began to pull him out of the coyote den.

"Stiles!" Hope exclaimed, trying to grab ahold of his struggling body with little success. "Stiles, you need to wake up!"

He refused, fingers digging into the dirt as he let out a wailing cry. "No, wait!"

"Stiles!" She shouted, using a little bit of her wolf voice, hoping the pack bond they had, would work.

Stiles' body fell still, just before a loud gasp filled the air around them and his flailing arms had straightened out.

A cry of relief fell from her lips, tears skidding down her cheeks as she kept her hold on him.

The boy blinked several times as he glanced around in dishevelment, his body beginning tremble all over again as he realized that he was in a completely different location then he thought. His caramel eyes found the bright blue ones that had caught his attention the first day she appeared in his life.

"Hope?" Stiles whimpered, practically falling apart when he noticed the girl that meant so much to him was holding onto him for dear life. ​

She let out a loud relieved breath, relaxing herself slightly, but didn't loosen her hold on him. No, she didn't he complete opposite. She tightened her hold, her fingers digging into his abdomen and one of his arms. His back was pressed against her, hands clinging onto her arms as she pulled him into a hug. "Shh, I'm here, Stiles. I told you I'd find you, didn't I? Everything's going to be okay."

He was in her arms and safe.

For now...

HOPE STOOD UP quickly as Noah approached them from Stiles' hospital room. Her bottom lip was pink and raw from how much she was chewing on it, and her nails were dirty and chipped from finding Stiles in the woods and chewing on them out of worry.

"He's sleeping now," Noah stated as he looked between Scott, Lydia, and her. Melissa and Rafael was there, as well. "And he's just fine. He doesn't remember much. It's a bit like a dream to him." He cleared his throat as he tried to hold back his emotions as he turned to face Hope fully. "Thank you so much, Hope. You didn't give up and you found him. You found my son. You — you saved his life." Tears shone in his blue eyes as he pulled the young girl into a hug.

Hope breathed in deeply as she wrapped her arms around the older mans waist, trying her best not to break down. She was so glad she was able to do this — to save Stiles' life. She couldn't help but think what would've happened if she wasn't there to help him. Would it have been worse? Would he have died? Or did she change nothing? She doesn't know, but all she knows is that she is relieved to have Stiles in a safe place.

"Hope is an amazing girl, isn't she?" Melissa spoke fondly as she smiled at the seventeen year old as she pulled away from Noah.

Hope offered the woman the biggest smile she could before wiping away a fallen tear.

Melissa smiled before waving the three teenagers off. "All right, you three. You've got school in less than six hours. Go home. Go to sleep."

As Scott and Lydia hesitantly left, Hope shook her head. "No, I'm not leaving. I don't care about school, not when Stiles is in there, obviously struggling. Melissa went to speak, shaking her head, but Hope wouldn't let her talk her out of it. "It's either I stay here and worry or go home and not sleep while still worrying. Let me stay." She kept eye contact with the older woman, not backing down. Because either way, she wasn't leaving Stiles' side, not after what had just happened. There was no way.

Melissa sighed heavily before nodding. "At least try to get some sleep. Please."

Hope nodded and walked into Stiles' hospital's room, sitting down on the chair beside his bed, taking his hand in hers. "I'm here Stiles, and I'm not leaving."

THE MRI ROOM was full of people who cared about Stiles; his father, Melissa, Scott, and Hope.

"I'm not sure I know how to pronounce this, or if it's not actually a misspelling."

Everyone looked over at the doctor, the man flipping through the pages on Stiles Stilinski's chart.

"Just call him Stiles." Noah answered.

The doctor nodded, turning around to face everyone in the room. "Okay," he mumbled, closing the manila folder, moving until he was standing directly in front of the pale boy. "Stiles, just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It's due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want we can get you earplugs or headphones."

Stiles lifted his head from staring intently as the floor. "Oh, no, no, I don't need anything."

"Hey," Sheriff Stilinski called, getting his son's attention. "We're just on the other side of that window, okay?"​

Stiles gave his father a short nod, not knowing if he would be able to form words without falling apart right in front of everyone he cares about more than the world.

The adults left the room, leaving the three teenagers there.

"You know what they're looking for, right?" Stiles asked them, glancing in between his best friend and the girl he likes. Scott was staring at the floor, not able to look anywhere else. Hope, on the other hand, had her eyes closed tightly, wishing this wasn't happening. "It's called frontotemporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink — it's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there's no cure."

"Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something," Scott began, pausing when he realized how difficult it was to talk before wiping away a stray tear. "I'll do something."

Hope couldn't help the tiny sob that escaped her mouth. Swallowing back another sob, she looked up at Stiles who was staring at her with soft eyes. "Stil—Stiles..." she trailed off before taking a deep breath. "I'll figure something out, okay? I promise I won't stop looking for something. I will find something, a spell, a ritual, I don't care. Whatever it is, I'll find it."

She couldn't hold herself back as she launched herself at Stiles, wrapping her arms around his waist, crying into his shoulder.

Stiles breathed in her scent, his nose burying into her neck as he tightened his hold on her.

Scott let another tear escape his eye before he walked over to them, pulling them into a group hug. None of them wanted to let go of one another.

HOPE SAT CURLED up in one of the waiting room seats next to Scott, the werewolf's coat draped over her body as she tried not to worry about Stiles, although that was inevitable. Derek sat across from them, just having turned up at the hospital.

"You know the stuff you were telling me about chemo signals earlier?" Scott asked, leaning forward to talk to the slightly older man, "it reminded me of the time you were teaching me to use anger to control the shift."

Hope glanced up at that. Anger? To control shifting? That's not how her father helped her. He told her to embrace it, the pain and herself, and it would come easier. And it did.

And now all she knows is pain — both physical and mental.

"I think you ended up teaching me more about that," Derek admitted, a small smile on his face.

"Are you teaching me again?"

"Think of it more like sharing a few trade secrets," Derek said, "you know, I took Cora back to South America, right? It's where she spent most of her time after the fire. But that's not the only reason I left. I needed to talk to my mother."

Hope raised her eyebrows a little from where she had been listening into the conversation. "I thought your mother had passed away?" She asked, and then winced at her own question. There is multiple ways to speak to a dead person, you just need the right stuff for it.

"She told me something that changed my perspective on a lot of things," the dark-haired man continued, "she said my family didn't just live in Beacon Hills. They protected it. This town needs someone to protect it. Someone like you." He turned his attention to Hope. "And especially you, Hope. You're a protector."

Scott nodded and paused before adding, "and someone like you to teach me a few trade secrets."

Derek agreed with a small scoff and a nod of the head.

Hope, since the first time that Stiles called her the night before, smiled lightly. Derek was a lot different than she first thought how he was. At first, he was a dick who wanted power and a pack. But now, she looked up to him as some sort of mentor, and she could see him as an older protective brother. Kinda like Scott.

She smiled to herself, looking down at her hands on her lap. Scott really was like a brother to her. A better one that Marcel, she can admit to herself. Sure, she loves Marcel, but he was never really there for her, not like Scott is.

Scott's face suddenly shifted as he looked down the hall, rising from his seat. Hope frowned up at him, confused.

"He was trying to protect us," Scott muttered, "Stiles was trying to protect us."

"From what?" Hope sat up.

"From himself."

The trio quickly made their way up to the roof where apparently Stiles had been struggling at one point before he ended up in Malia's coyote den.

"What are we looking for??" Derek asked as they all began looking around for any obvious clues to some sort of plan.

Scott shook his head. "I'm not sure. But I think Stiles wasn't just up here struggling with himself. I think he was struggling not to do something." He reached up on top of a breaker and pulled off a bag that was full of tools.

Hope heard a crackling noise and looked up to see a wire that had been cut a little to the point it was about to break off. Little sparks were coming out of it.

And then suddenly, there was an explosion and electricity flew out at them, knocking them all back.

Hope curses loudly and caught herself and stood up. But, her blue eyes widened when the wire came flying towards her, big sparks coming out of it. It hit her harshly in the stomach and she went flying through the air and off of the hospital building.

Hope screamed as her body convulsed as she went tumbling to the ground. She could faintly hear multiple people shouting her name, bringing her slightly back to her senses.

And right before she was about to hit the ground, someone came out of nowhere, catching her and lowering her to the ground. She groggily saw blue eyes before she was pushed to the side roughly.

She landed on her left side just in time to see Isaac get electrified before passing out, his face towards her.

"No..." she breathed out, barely able to hold herself up, her blue eyes looking around at all the other people that was getting electrified. "He did this. Stiles did this."

Stiles wasn't Stiles anymore, that much was clear.

He was possessed, meaning Hope wasn't able to save him after all.