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The phone rang out for the thirteenth time, but still, there was no answer.
“Shit, Stiles. You idiot boy!” Peter growled as he threw the phone to the floor. Clearly, they would be getting no answer anytime soon. “Hit the accelerator, Chris!"
"I'm already going forty past the speed limit!" Chris replied, but he pressed further on the gas anyway. They had to get there in time. They just had to.
When Stiles had told Chris and Peter about what his sister had planned, Chris didn't want to believe him. When he showed him the proof to say she had before, he felt sick but realized the truth. Some part of Chris blamed himself because she was his little sister and how did he get so blinded that he didn't notice as his sister, was bring brought up to think this, this sick perversion and mass genocide was okay.
Stiles didn't seem to blame him. Said he was a good one out of a bad lot, but Chris blamed himself because of course, he did.
He had thought, when Stiles showed them those reports, those horrible, horrible photos, that he was telling Chris that he needed to clean this up. To stop his sister, that it was his responsibility, and of course, Chris agreed. So he was momentarily stunned when Stiles looked at him with a sad, heartbreaking smile and only said, "I hope this explains why I have to do this. I hope you don't hate me, but I understand if you do."
How could Stiles think he would face this alone. How could he think they would let him face this alone. It was absurd, it was stupid, it didn't make sense, but of course; that was Stiles.
A mystery wrapped in absurdity with a dash of stupidity thrown in. Really, for one so smart, powerful, and brave, he could really be a dunce. Chris didn't understand how he could ever think he had to do this alone. Face the soon-to-be Matriarch of the Argent Clan alone.
Stop her from burning an innocent family alive, alone.
Peter stiffened beside him, and Chris looked to him momentarily, wondering what it was he could sense.
But when he looked back to the road, to the tree line ahead and beyond, he knew. Peter could probably smell it on the breeze, just as he could see what Chris could. The black, rising, twisting clogging smoke behind the trees.
"Go faster!" And this time Chris didn't complain. He just hoped they'd get there in time.
The sound of sirens started up behind them, but that only made him go faster. Faster and faster, through the winding roads and forest. It was a miracle in and of itself that he didn't wrap them around a tree in his haste.
They turned a corner, and what he saw, he couldn't say he expected.
The fire was there, certainly. The orange flames licking up the wooden framing of the compound like... well, like fire to tinder. He could hear the howls now, the screams. Load and choking, cutting off in parts, descending in volume rapidly. He could see his sister, an ugly sneer on her face even as she lay on the ground with broken legs. He thought she was screaming too, though whether in anger or pain, he couldn't tell; he couldn't hear her under the screams of the innocent.
And he could see Stiles. Or at least, he thought it was Stiles. The body had his flannel, his jeans. But his hair was flying all over the place and his body was blistering with the heat as he stood on the burning porch, shuffling his foot and moving his hands about. Suddenly dark particles flew all about the building and half-burnt bodies started to pore out.
Peter growled and was out of the car and halfway across the lawn before Chris had even parked the car.
He breathed in a breath and got out, running towards where Peter was dragging a screaming Stiles away from the flames.
"No! NO! I have to stop it! I HAVE TO STOP IT!" He yelled, kicking and screaming. Peter flinched as though in pain, but didn't let go.
Chris ran up to Stiles and cradled his face in his hands, "It's okay Stiles, we're here, they're safe and we're here. You don't have to do this alone."
He wasn't sure if Stiles heard him, but it didn't matter.
Later that night, or maybe it was early the next morning when the fire was out and Chris and Peter were sitting in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Stiles to wake up, they shared a look. Their eyes wary and older than they should be, but full of fire and determination.
They would change things. Create a new world order. For their children, for their family, for their pack, for Stiles.
For themselves.