chapter sixteen

[ season 2 | episode 8 ]
[ raving ]

               SHE'D NEVER BEEN TO A RAVE. In fact, Marley figured a rave was the worst place for someone like her to go. She was terrified of loud noises, had a near breakdown anytime someone would venture too close, and was what some people would call 'anti-social'. 

Had she been raised normally, without all of the trauma, she could see herself growing fond of the events, though. That crowd, every single person hyped over some music with floor-shaking bass and the adrenaline that could be gained simply from the mass. The herd of teenagers near the DJ booth, each one rubbing against strangers and forgetting every rule they'd ever followed.

The sense of freedom was what intrigued her the most, though. The knowledge that nobody would remember her face, giving her the opportunity to be whoever she pleased for the night. To just slide a mask over her identity and play make believe for a single night. That was what she wanted the most.

So, sitting comfortably in the back of Stiles' jeep, with her eyes staring through the window and at the forest of trees, she let herself think about who she wanted to be tonight. She could be Marlowe, the uptight and burdened girl with an overwhelming fear of the world, or she could be whoever the hell else she decided. Carefree, seductive, fun. Whatever her little heart desired.

Yes, despite the fact that she knew her anxiety would be at an all time high during the rave, especially considering the situation, she did feel a bit of excitement. She knew she would have a difficult time trying to calm herself, but she also knew that the person she would be tonight was going to be the girl that she'd always wanted to be. And yes, despite the fact that this girl wouldn't be her true self, she decided she would appreciate this second identity for the night.

They wouldn't be headed to the actual party until after the sun made its full descent and darkness had taken over the skies, leaving nearly half the day left for them to prepare. As soon as the bell signaling the end of school rang, the trio had piled into Roscoe, taking their signature seats before Stiles tore off towards Scott's work.

With her legs spread across his back seat and her back leaning against one of the doors, she picked at the dirt beneath her nails. As she busied herself with her nails, she figured that neither of the boys were thinking about it as much as she did. She figured they were focused on the whole kanima portion, not the social parts.

"Tonight is the night." She shifted, her head nodding as Stiles broke through the peaceful silence. She could hear his shaky intake of breath, accompanied by his thumbs tapping on the Jeep's leather wheel, as he swerved his car along a sharp turn. She'd gotten more used to his reckless driving.

Bringing a knee to her chest, she leaned her cheek against the fading fabric of her denim jeans. "The night for what?"

As they hit a pothole, the boy up front huffed out a sigh. "The night we get him— them. And, after tonight, everything just goes back to normal." Marley shifted, bringing her legs off the seat and facing forward, staring straight at the head rest blocking Stiles' skull from her view.

In the passenger seat, Scott stared at his fingers, flexing his hand before turning to the other two. "Stiles, I don't think anything can ever be normal again."

"We grow fangs and claws, and our eyes are glow in the dark," Marley snorted, pushing her curls behind her shoulders. She could feel her claws pushing against her nail bed, that phantom feeling clinging to her brain. "Normal isn't exactly attainable for us."

She heard Stilinski breathe air through his nose, the sound of skin tightening on a leather steering wheel weaseling itself into her ears. "Yea, well, we can try."

She didn't know if it was the weird hitch in his voice or the gradual rise in his heartbeat, but she pitied him. He'd been dragged into this world with nobody to turn to, nobody else who could sympathize with his situation. Sure, he could turn to Scott, but Scott would never understand everything from a human perspective.

The jeep swerved into the parking lot of the clinic, Stiles pulling into two spaces before yanking the gear to a park. "Y'know, I wouldn't wanna go back to normal, anyway," she said, hopping down from the back seat and onto the asphalt. "Normal people are overrated."

          The trio waltzed into the clinic, with Scott at the forefront and Marley at the back. The little bell above the glass door jingled, doctor Allen Deaton perking his head up at the sound. He sat behind the receptionists desk, shuffling through papers, before rising. "Ah, you're here." His shiny, black shoes clicked along the tile as he disappeared into a doorway.

          When she finally followed, her eyes taking in the clinic during the daytime before making her way to the back, she rested her hands on that metal table. "What's that?"

          "Ketamine." Scott' with his arms folded across his maroon hoodie, cranes forward, staring intently on the little bottle his boss held up.

          Deaton looked at the both before reverting his gaze to the glass vial. "It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage." He set it in front of them, his hands resting back on the table. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time. This—" holding up a bottle of mountain ash, "—is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for you, Stiles. Only you."

          The glass hit the table, a resounding clink echoing through the walls. And, as if that sound echoed itself into her head, Marley felt something. Fear, anticipation, an impeding sense of doom.

          "Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure." Stiles' mumble brought her back. He grabbed the bottle, holding it up and examining it. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?" At both of their looks, he furrowed his eyebrows.

          "It's from the mountain ash tree, which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural. This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for someone like Scott or Marlowe to cause me any trouble." Deaton smiled at them, gesturing to the walls and nodding his head.

She shifted her head, staring at Stiles as the boy processed the information. "Okay, so then what? I just spread this across the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"

Shaking her head, Marley took her hands off the table and folded her arms, a feeling of pure unease coursing through her veins. "Neither can we." Her curls came loose from behind her shoulders, falling onto her shoulders.

"You'll all be trapped." Deaton saying it only made that uneasy feeling worse. She would be stuck inside of a club with an evil lizard, an evil lizard-controlling-murderer, and three other werewolves. One of which who she held a mutual hatred with.

Before she could get too nervous, she felt Scott's sleeve brush against her arm. "Well, it doesn't sound too bad. Or too hard."

"Sounds claustrophobic," she mumbled, picking at a hangnail. She never had a problem with small spaces before. Never really feared them. But, for some reason, the idea of being trapped by some supernatural, unbreakable force made her stomach spike with anxiety.

Scott looked at her again, a comforting smile pointed in her direction. "Hey, it'll be alright." It was inaudible to everyone else, a small whisper beneath his breath, but she knew to listen. If anyone was going to comfort her, it would be the guy with a scarily avid moral compass.

"That's not all there is." Deaton was still staring at them, watching their interactions while holding all this necessary information in his head. "Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder until a spark lights it; you need to be that spark, Stiles."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stiles scrunch his face up and shake his head. "If you mean light myself up on fire, I don't think I'm up for that."

The vet smiled as Scott stared at him, eyes wide with worry. "Let me try a different analogy. I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

          "Force of will." Stiles huffed, clearly not believing whatever the hell the man in front of them was saying. To be honest, Marley didn't know if he was very credible, either.

"If—" he waited, only continuing after Stiles looked up at him. "—if this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it."

Like pixie dust. Everyone stared at Stiles, waiting for him to respond, watching him nod his head before humming in acknowledgement. And just like that, everything settled. It wasn't that clarity had suddenly just wrapped her in a cold hug, but that she really just felt the weight of everything. People died. 

She could die. Jackson, who she'd known since eighth grade, could die. Any of her friends—any of the people she'd suddenly just become accustomed to—could die.

She felt Scott's hand gently shake her bicep. "Hey, Marley? You okay?" It was then that she realized she'd been standing there, staring at the little bottle of mountain ash in Stiles' hand.

"Hmm?" Her eyes blurred as tears came through thanks to the dry air, curls sliding against her shoulders. "Oh, yea, I'm fine. Just thinkin'."

He smiled softly, head gesturing towards the door. "We're gonna stop at Stiles' house until tonight to get some homework done. D'you wanna be dropped off at home or do you wanna come with?"

"You guys can drop me off. Derek's gonna pick me up later, anyways."

SHE WAS SANDWICHED BETWEEN ERICA AND ISAAC AS THEY MADE THEIR WAY INTO THE WAREHOUSE. Her hair, tied into a bun atop her head, tickled at her neck, her skin already alert from the proximity of the two. She could feel lava rumbling beneath her skin as they all walked side by side, an eruption not too far off in the distance.

She could hear the music, feel the bass of the raging song, see the flashing lights through the door, and she let her mask slip on. Calm, collect, hot. That was who she wanted to be for the night, so that's who she became as she shouldered her way into the building, mind lingering in just that one thought.

          Kids crowded around the trio, glow sticks and neon clothing vibrant against the black lights. Every single one of her senses seemed to enhance in the darkness; her ears tuning into every step against the concrete, nose picking up on everyone's chemo signals, eyes reading the heat that clung to the walls.

          But as she walked forward, with Erica and Isaac both on each side, she felt power, an undeniable rush of it flooding through her body. Not the type that told her she could slit a man's throat, but the type that made her feel like she could walk on water. Like her skin was fire, and she could burn anyone who stepped the tiniest bit too close. Within just a matter of minutes, she became a god among lowly mortals.

          They found Scott quickly, hunched behind a concrete pillar with Allison's retreating form bringing fading away. He held the syringe of ketamine up to Isaac and Marley, his brown eyes scanning the environment around as they spoke in hushed whispers.

          The blonde shrugged, taking the syringe into his hands with a gentle touch. "Why me?" She could sense the apprehension along the edges of his body.

          "Because I've got to make sure that Argent doesn't completely ruin the plan." They huddled behind the pillar, Scott's eyes still lingering on the surrounding crowds and Marley sheltering then from prying eyes.

She stepped closer, her umber brows furrowing at his words. "The Argents are here? Do they know it's Jackson?" Despite knowing the answer, she felt her stomach tense with a bundle of nerves as she waited for Scott to answer. Argent and his crew being present could ruin a lot for them.

"Yea." He met her eyes for a split second before turning back to instruct Isaac. "Okay, look, you better do it intravenously which means in the vein. When you find him, you pull back on this plunger right here. In the neck probably is going to be the easiest. So you find a vein, you jam it in there, and pull back on the trigger. Be careful."

Isaac chuckled, his hands grasping the contraption as he stood against a backdrop of people. "Oh, I doubt it'll even slightly hurt him." His green eyes studied the syringe with a slight grin still on his face.

          "No, I mean you." Both she and him stared up at Scott, the words sitting in their stomachs. "I don't want you to get hurt." He began to retreat, nearly disappearing around the pillar, before looking back at her. "You too, Marley. Just, be careful. Please." She nodded, silently wishing the same for him, too.

          As she watched him retreat, a hand grabbed onto her wrist, fire blooming and her eyes meeting Erica's. She pulled her and Isaac further into the crowd before letting go once they came close enough to Jackson Whittemore—whose eyes were focused purely on the girl manning the DJ. The blonde grabbed onto his neck, pulling him back and pushing her body against his.

          Marley felt Isaac lightly push her forward, bringing her body against Erica's with him pressed against her back. Shutting her eyes, she imagined her mask. She sealed it onto her true identity, letting it seep into the cracks of who she truly was. Her tensed muscles relaxed as she slid further into place, still picturing that mask slipping onto her identity.

          The music slowed, her pulse calming into a rhythmic beat and her hands grasping onto Erica's hips as she became new person. She could feel Isaac pressed against her, one of his hands on her waist and the other lightly set on her neck. As his skin touched hers, and as Erica's body moved along with her own, she could feel that rumbling fire beneath her flesh, an explosion gaining on her as she moved.

          Lips against hers, hands roaming her body, music thrumming through her veins. She could see the colorful light show behind her eyelids as she danced, body mixing with Erica's flowery perfume, Jackson's warm body, and Isaac's mint cologne.

          Her hand came around Erica's shoulders as their lips met, pink gloss and cherry chapstick exploding on one another's skin. She felt the boys touching each of their bodies, Isaac's own lips moving against her neck and Jackson's against Erica's. Within these moments, she felt euphoric. A wave of tingling euphoria washed over her as she danced between the three people, her mind high on whatever was floating in the air.

          The world was spinning perfectly on its axis as everything just began to float. Her mind, her body, her consciousness. It was all floating against the thin air, dancing along the molecules dusting the atmosphere. As hands, lips, skin touched her, she could just feel the gentleness of the breeze and the press of people upon her as if it all doubled.

          This world, the one she was living in and the sensations it brought, was a drug and she was incredibly addicted. In fact, she couldn't get enough of it as she felt warm breath against her ear.

          Against her hip, she could feel the cold metal of a syringe pressed into Isaac's hand. She nodded against Erica's forehead, the latter pulling her away from the boys. Isaac and Jackson stepped closer, their bodies still in sync from the dancing, the blonde began to raise his hand, and then—

          And then Erica cried out, a hands worth of claws digging into her back as her body fell slack on Isaac's. Then, more slipped into his neck, leaving just Marley to defend the trio. Face to face with the kanima, she narrowed her eyes.

          "She belongs to me." Jackson stepped closer, five claws dripping with blood from her companions. Before she could even move, they were digging into her skin, her body falling painfully against the concrete. Mere feet away from the forgotten syringe with her fingers craning towards it and a murderous bastard on the loose.

          Both she and Isaac reached for it, hands straining against the pain, before a slick boot unknowingly kicked it further from their reach. They shared a look, him moving closer to the thing they needed while she turned to find Erica.

          The time between when she saw her kneeling on the ground to them, plus Stiles, staring at Jackson's slumped figure was blurred. Just a mixture of movement, pain, and silent words. "He okay?" The Stilinski boy held his hands on his hips, moving the smallest bit closer.

          "Well..." Isaac stood in front of the chair, towering over the passed out boy. "Let's find out." With one quick motion, he held his claws up, moving to swipe them across the boy before a hand enclosed around his wrist. She could hear bones snapping as the kanima tightened his hold, twisting the limb further and further downwards. "God—" Isaac cried, his body trying to bend with his wrist.

          Finally, as she began to move forward, Jackson let go. The werewolf cradled his hand, hunched over and shuffling his way back to the opposite side of the concrete room. She could hear his unsteady breathing as he sat on a ledge, eyes trained on his throbbing limb.

          "Okay, no one does anything like that again, okay?" They nodded as Stiles pointed around to each of them, his nasally voice echoing off the empty walls. She could practically feel the pain from Isaac as he sucked air in through clenched teeth.

          He groaned, pain tightening in his throat. "Oh, I thought the ketamine was supposed to put him out." She saw the muscles in his neck tense, the pain obvious as he huffed air through his nose.

         She shook her head, staring at the boy who had no idea what he was even doing. "I mean, it's not like any of us have experience. Nobody knew exactly how much the ketamine would affect him." Her stomach twisted, the danger of everything making her hair stand up.

          "Yea, well, apparently this is all we're gonna get." Stiles nodded with her statement, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, let's just hope that whoever's controlling him just decided to show up tonight."

          Before anyone could say anything more, Marley heard something. A faint sound of steam blowing from a vaporizer, the distant smell of wolfsbane tickling her nostrils. Mumbling a short excuse, she barreled through the door, following her senses. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, syncing with whoever's was beating just as uncontrollably. Her throat tightened, an overwhelming sense of doom lingering in the air.

          She heard Scott. His voice, weighed down by grogginess and delirium. "What? What are you doing?"

          And her heart stopped when she stumbled through a metal door, mist clouding her senses as her eyes fell upon Victoria's slim silhouette. "Isn't it obvious? I'm killing you." The huntress turned as Marley wheezed, her eyes thinning to sharp daggers as she stared at their new company. "Marlowe."

          She coughed against the harsh vapor, tears clinging to her eyes. "Mrs. Argent? What— what the hell?"

          The Argent's heels clicked on concrete as she gracefully stepped towards the teenaged girl. "You know, I really hoped you weren't one of them. I thought that maybe Allison had finally broken away from that world, but when Gerard put the pieces together, I couldn't deny it." As more of the wolfsbane filled her lungs, Marley fell into a coughing fit, her legs threatening to give out. She could feel a thin finger dragging along her shoulder. "It just hurts knowing this will kill Allison."

          She swore she could feel the mist swirling around her organs, threatening to close off her throat as she stood. "And— and how do you expect this to go down with the police? Stiles' father? You really think they'll just let two kids dying slip under the rug?"

          Victoria sat on a stool, watching Scott's limo figure in the table and Marley's body trying to maintain balance. "Oh, but I've planned this. You see, it's going to look like an accident. Poor Scott McCall, suffering from a terrible asthma attack. School records do show he has a pretty severe case of asthma." She paused, cherry lips widening into a smile. "And poor Marlowe St. Claire, stumbling upon her dying classmate and getting hit with a horrible panic attack. Unable to help her friend, and eventually bringing on her own peril."

          As she coughed, she saw Scott's yellow eyes, his canines elongated and claws revealed. "Stop!" He huffed out a cough himself, nails digging into the table beneath him.

          "Too late. Looks like it's working." Victoria's eyes fell on Scott's hand, his claws scraping against metal as he strained to rise, eyes locked onto Marley's hunched over body. "Uh-uh-uh," she tsked, using one of her sculpted legs to kick him from the table.

          Working against the venom running through her veins, Marlowe pushed herself to rise. "Scott!" She felt her claws and fangs, the room illuminated by her golden irises. Her feet stumbled over one another as she stood, clumsily lunging after the huntress, whose laugh echoed through the room.

          The tip of her heel, sharp and calculated, rammed into Marley's gut, sending her into one of the warehouse walls. Her back fell upon the concrete, a sharp ache blossoming within her spine. She could feel the woman's body above hers, Victoria lowering to a graceful kneel above her writhing form.

          Manicured fingers brushed a few locks of hair behind Marley's ear, deadly eyes staring into her own. "I think you can guess what really happened to your father. Your siblings." She came closer, ear hovering just above Marley's. "A werewolf. And here you are, living and breathing as one of the monsters who killed your family. Shamelessly letting yourself become the enemy."

          A low chuckle sent daggers into her stomach. "If I raised a child to become the creature you have, I would be overwhelmed with disgust, so just imagine how your father would feel."

          Marley could feel her body begin to fall slack, mind reeling as she accepted the information. She'd known, of course, that wolves killed her family, but hearing it made it all too real. Especially once she truly realized the monster she herself had become.

          Argent smiled as rose, staring at the two dying wolves with pride radiating from her figure in waves. "Alphas, betas, but what are you two, Scott? Omegas. Don't you know the lone wolf never survives without a pack? I've heard the cry of an omega. It's a miserable sound. The howl of a lone wolf."

          Marley felt hopelessness weasel into her chest, death brushing against her finger tips. "We're not," she wheezed, eyes flashing between their usual brown to that bone-chilling gold.

          "What?" Victoria's auburn head swerved, eyes netting hers. "What is it?"

          Scott shifted, a whisper breaking against silence. "We're not... alone." Marley watched him arch his back, a deep, guttural roar ringing throughout the city of Beacon Hills, her chest filling up with sound before it slowly fell into a fit of coughing.

          As his body slumped, his roar dying down and a silence filling her head, she brought her own body up into a kneel. Her throat burned as she threw every ounce of life she had into her own howl, vocal chords searching for one person in particular.

          "Ah—" she collapsed once more, pain overtaking every cell in her body as she inhaled more of that lethal mist.

          She faintly heard Scott's whisper. "Allison... please, tell her I'm sorry."

          Her eyelids began to flutter, ears succumbing to a distant ring as she say the blurred silhouette of her alpha fighting against Victoria, metal and grunts and growls all dying against that welcome ring.

          As she felt her skin melt into the concrete, her body dissolving into particles of dust, she could feel hands tugging at her, the faintest whisper of her name acting as a tether.

          And then the tether broke. A thin slice was all it needed, that distant world fading into blackness as hands disappeared, along with the physical plane of existence. She could sense her mind tumbling into dark, dark, dark. A black void welcoming her with open arms as she floated against nothingness, tied to just the weightlessness of nonexistence.

          Her eyes were sealed shut, her bones melting and becoming jello within her body, her mind a blank space in the spiritual world.

          Down, down, down and gone.

word count: 4255

a/n
uploading this the day that PARAMOUNT ANNOUNCES A TEEN WOLF MOVIE. UM. [jk, it's been a few days since then but i went camping and had no signal oops]

i can't wait to see it!! and who's all gonna be in it!!!!

and jeff davis' new, upcoming show!!!!! dude. i'm so damn excited oml

[pls give us the queer malia we want if shelley is up for the movie] [also stydia] [aND THIAM PLS] [BRING ISAAC BACK] [oh my god the things they can do]

paramount has my heart in their hands rn help

ANYWAYS

i just saw that Carpe reached 9k reads and ,,, oh my god. oh. my. god. thank you all so much for reading and voting and commenting. it means the absolute world.

when i published the first chapter, i didn't expect this to go anywhere, but i do know that the person who made those first few chapter public would be shitting bricks rn

i never understood what other authors meant when they said they didn't even have the words to thank their readers until now