Chapter Text
There was a knock at the door and Stiles set down Melissa’s refilled mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, heading to the hallway to open it. He was met by a family, and smiled softly down at the little girl in pigtails. They greeted each other, and the man handed over a clingfilm wrapped dish that looked recently made. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”
“Oh that’s so sweet, thank you. You shouldn’t have.” Stiles took it and had a sniff at the dish, already his mouth was watering. He noticed the little girl was very shy, not looking at him at all and preferring to stare off at the wall or to the floor. He bent down just a little and spoke softly to her, keeping himself open for her to talk to him. “And what’s your name?”
“Cynthia.” When the little girl only avoided his gaze and turned her head completely, the mother spoke for her, resting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She then heightened her voice like Stiles knew all parents do to younger children, encouraging her gently before picking her head back up to speak to Stiles in her normal soft tone. “You can say hi... She’s shy.”
Stiles smiles back at her, flashbacks of the last time he spoke to a child. It was that family back on the road, Deaton he remembers the name of. The two children had been older and the son was definitely more corrupted by the world than this little girl. She must have been five years old, maybe just a tad older if that. Of course she wouldn’t be as tainted; living here and growing up in a mostly routinely domestic lifestyle at such a young age. Stiles envied her for a moment. Instead, he just whispered a compliment to her. “Well, that’s a very pretty name.”
The mother chuckled and thanked him, beginning to talk about where he had come from and what she had known about him from his father. Stiles kept it civil but guard up as he always did around people that weren’t his husband, and soon enough the three of them were saying their farewells and hoping that they saw each other another time before leaving. Stiles headed to the kitchen quickly to set the dish down on the counter, sighing in relief because holy fuckballs he had to hold it with both hands and now his hand throbbed in pain. From the way the dish smelled through the film, the pain would be worth it.
He was going to grab a spatula from the drawer when he noticed Deucalion on the lawn talking into a phone or a walkie-talkie or something. Stiles frowned and got closer to the window, the blind man appeared agitated as he spoke into the device though Stiles couldn’t hear what he was saying through the window. He knocked on the glass and saw Deuc flinch at the noise, jerking his head in the same direction before speaking into the device once more and seemingly hanging up. He pushed the antenna down and brought his stick to the floor once more, tapping away in a hurry.
Stiles’ brow furrowed deeper. He’d never seen Deuc act that way before, though in this new world he hadn’t seen the blind man at all. He didn’t want to pry but at the same time he needed to know what was happening if it made the older man so paranoid that someone was listening in to his conversation. He’ll just go over there for a little while, figure out if Deuc needs any help, that’s all.
Either way, Deucalion was being suspicious; who the fuck calls someone from a neighbour’s front lawn only to spook when spotted, and decide to make haste back to his own home? It made Stiles nervous. He was going to open the window to call out for the man to come back, if he needed anything, but Deucalion was off like a shot. For being blind, this man was a speedster, making his way across his own well-kept lawn and into his house before Stiles could get close.
Stiles brow furrowed, stepping out of the house onto the front porch and resting his hand on the pillar for a moment as he watched Deucalion practically run into his door. Flinging it open with desperation and hurry inside, much to Stiles’ increasing anxiety. Who was on the phone? Why did it make Deuc so nervous to be secretive about this?
--
Derek was taking it slow through the house trying to familiarize himself with everything. He had only been here a couple of times and it was many years ago when he was simply dating Stiles and not moved in yet. Still, the house had the same layout like it did back then, the need for the way things were when the Sheriff’s wife was still around hung heavy in the household even to Derek’s eyes. He doesn’t know how Stiles handles it sometimes. The ghost of old memories right around the corner to dredge up the past continuously, it must have been difficult for the Sheriff to let go.
Still, it may seem as is Derek was just wandering aimlessly, the man had a purpose on his voyage. He wanted the gun that the Sheriff had locked away, it would be useful with the newly made enemies they had just escaped from. They could only hide so much before one of the Gamblers found out where they were and alerted the rest of the hoard, no doubt losing in the firepower. He knew it had to be here somewhere, the Sheriff was careful with his safe and made sure to not tell many people about it. He had a key in the study that Derek was quick to find and bring with him, but searching the office came up with nothing. Just the odd photo of Stiles as a child, which he slid into his back pocket knowing Stiles would have done the same. There were also random papers of blueprints, old magazines and books with faded hardbacks, the odd letter scattered about.
Going into the living room, Derek found a small cupboard with old stereo set with CDs piled next to it collecting dust. He didn’t know if they worked but he should figure it out sometime; he was more of a vinyl man but in this kind of world he wasn’t picky about passing the time with any kind of entertainment he could get his hands on. There was only so much in the apocalypse he could do repeatedly before he got bored.
Searching the cupboard underneath the stereo set, Derek found a giant collection of newspapers and folders from the Sheriff’s days on the force. It would have given Derek enough time to comb through but his eyes were focused on the small metal safe that was placed there neatly. It was a double-lock safe for extra protection, the Sheriff knowing what kind of child he had – one that would often try to steal interesting things in the hopes to grow up faster. Derek remembers Stiles telling the story that his father would constantly change the code on the safe to evade Stiles’ interest. Though, that only served to peak the teenager’s need to puzzle solve even more, and had told him it was easy to pick the lock because the Sheriff would do variations of Claudia’s birthday.
Bending down and slotting the key in the lock, Derek began to turn the dial to Claudia’s birthday, trying again once it didn’t click. It took three attempts before the master lock clicked telling Derek that the combination was correct, all he had to do now was turn the key and see if there were enough bullets inside this damn safe in order to protect themselves. Turning the key and opening the safe door, Derek realized that it was fucking empty.
Why was the safe fucking empty?
Looking around the room, feelings of dread dropping into his stomach at the thought that someone else could have the gun, Stiles could be in danger. It could be nothing; a neighbour seeing that the Sheriff would want to have their village protected as much as they could, he may have given it away. Still, the idea thar someone had came into the house just to take the only asset of his safety, rang alarm bells in Derek’s head. He called out for Stiles, only to hear nothing throughout the house aside from the echo of his concerned voice.
--
Braeden kept fiddling the ring between her fingertips. Being stuck inside without the need to act upon her duty as one of the Cherries, and eliminate the pigs of this world, and there were so many in this pathetically protected suburb that it set her on edge.
Hearing some commotion below, she stood up from her position crouching on the floor and grabbed her rifle, having a look in the scope and immediately honing in on the smaller gay man outside. He was moving slowly, carefully, almost as if he were stalking someone. Was this the moment that she could finally see the true colors of these two gay men? That the Cherries were right and all men, no matter how they wanted to be in this world, were all following their desires for greed and killing? A part of her didn’t want that to be true, in fact that part of her was bigger than she thought. That bubble inside her made her almost feel connected to these two gay men, after following them for so long. It would be a shame for them to let her down now.
She kept her watchful eye on the man as he moved across a front lawn and past an open garage, making sure that there was nothing that would jump out at him before inching onto the porch steps and shuffling to the front door. He didn’t knock or anything, but his whole demeanour was off. He turned around and Braeden followed his sight with her scope until she found the noise that was distracting him – the same child that came to his house with a dish, was rolling around on the road in her tricycle, just continuously turning in circles – before looking back to the house.
He stayed still for a few moments before seemingly unable to find what he wanted, and decided to leave when something must have caught his attention again because he paused mid-step. She didn’t need to know what was going to happen though, because a few seconds later, the sound of rumbling in the distance caught her attention. She moved her scope around once more to where the noises were coming from but couldn’t see the target. Springing into action, she moved away from the window and out the nook to another window on the other corner of the attic, bringing her scope out once more. It was a better view, a few cars coming into the neighbourhood, she counted four in a line. There could be more. If it was who she thought it was, then yes there would a fuck ton more. They were wanting revenge; they were out for blood. Stepping away from the window and strapping her rifle over her shoulder, Braeden made a plan in her head of keeping out of sight but being their assist. Shit was about to go down, this tiny neighbourhood would need all the help it could get.
--
“A minute from your place, what’s your twenty?” Came a crackling from inside the house. Stiles head whipped round from where he was watching the little girl Cynthia on her tricycle, back to the window. It sounded like someone was on the radio. Sounded aggressive, someone reaching for intel. A sinking feeling began in Stiles’ gut, the information zipping through his mind at the possibilities of these quickly appearing facts. Deucalion was being secretive on the phone, flinching at being caught and running to his safety, hiding from Stiles only to hear someone on the other side needing to know where he was? He didn’t need to know how it sounded. Stiles knew. This was no longer a safe place.
Before he could even think about an escape tactic, or running to find Derek, rumbling had started. Closer than he’d liked. Someone was coming. A lot of people, from the sound of a few engines rumbling. He needed Derek. Needed to protect this town if it was the last thing he did. He wasn’t going to run anymore, or he would never be able to stop.
Running from Deucalion’s porch, Stiles hurried to where Cynthia was innocently riding in circles. He was quick to grab her wrist and tempt her inside, running together to his father’s house. Cynthia didn’t seem to mind being tugged around, plaited pigtails bouncing on her shoulders and across her back. Bursting through the front door, Stiles weaved through the house until they were in the bedroom, seeing Derek sitting on the sofa in the living room as he passed with the girl. He was confused, obviously. “Whoa whoa, what’s going on?”
“Gamblers.” Was enough information for Stiles to throw out and have Derek’s shoulders tense up. He stood from the sofa and hurried behind Stiles but the man was on a mission; no way was he going to be left without any kind of protection.
Derek’s mind was racing. How could they have found them? More to the point, why was Stiles bringing a little girl into the bedroom? “They followed us? Who’s this?”
“No, Deuc sold us out.” Short and to the point, Stiles gently sat Cynthia on the edge of the bed while he went around getting what he needed. He didn’t know he’d need it so soon, but Stiles had known by now to be prepared for anything. He hauled a duffel over his shoulder with a change of clothes, ammo and a couple guns. Slotting a couple rounds into the shotgun, Stiles moved around the room quickly to see if he needed to grab anything else in case he needed to make a quick exit. He was going to fight, but he might not be able to come back for his things, prepared to run at a moment’s notice. “This is Cynthia, the neighbour’s daughter.”
“Hi sweetie. What are you doing?” Derek was floundering at the new information. The little girl, Cynthia, appeared completely content to be sat while everything around her was busy and loud. She was used to the adults being stressed by now. Derek watched as Stiles was loading up the guns, with a face that was ready for war. “Stiles, no. We should go. We need to leave, right now.”
The look of betrayal on Stiles’ face was evident, but the man wasn’t deterred by Derek suddenly becoming a coward. For once, after all this time with this journey Stiles had enough of hiding and running away. He came for his father, and knowing that the sheriff was no longer around to protect this neighbourhood, Stiles knew that this was time for him to pick up the slack. He was going to do what his father would have wanted; he was going to fight. “We can’t just leave these people, Derek. This is all they have.”
Stiles passed Derek a pistol, moving around him to the bedroom door to get this show on the road. When he turned around, Derek was standing with his mouth agape at the sudden change in his husband. “Cover me.”
With that, Stiles left the room to form a plan. Leaving Derek to look down at the loaded pistol in his hand, and then turning back to Cynthia, peacefully sitting on the bed with her face turned up to him. Her expression said it all; what now?