ephemeral || stiles and the originals

chapter nine

lol ur not louis tomlinson

friday, february 18 [11:54 p.m.]
new orleans, louisiana
third person pov

Marcel had always been a smug bastard but the look on his face when Stiles had shown up made the idea of maiming him all the more appealing. Isaac and Allison stood in front of him, cold and protective because he was the weak link, the vulnerability. The notion seemed only to further Marcel's amusement and the vampire held his arm out graciously as if they were free guests and not surrounded by over a dozen minion vamps that probably had orders to rip the pack to shreds if anyone attempted anything.

The hallway before them was the same as it had been centuries ago and Stiles fought not to drag his fingertips over the wallpaper to see if it still felt the same.

The doorway at the end of the hall loomed over them, even though it was still ages away, sent a heavy rush of dread through Stiles.

"Your friends are through there," he looked pointedly at Isaac and Allison, "Try anything and I snap your human friend's neck while we have a nice little chat."

Isaac's eyes flashed and Stiles felt fear grip him when  a vampire, who he assumed was Levi, stepped forward eyes fixed dangerously on Isaac.

"It's okay," Stiles stepped forward, his hand pushing at Isaac's chest, "Go, he can't hurt me," the words implied that Stiles was speaking of the pack's agreement that they had safety until time was up, but Stiles' glare directed to Marcel gave the words their true meaning.

If Marcel tried to hurt him, Stiles would rip his heart out and they both knew it.

Isaac looked hurt that Stiles was telling him to stand down from protecting him and Stiles sighed, eyes softening, "If you think I'm not living long enough to make fun of you wearing scarves in the summer, you're more stupid than you look."

That got him a small smile from the beta and then Allison was punching Stiles with her good hand, "You die, I kill you."

Stiles thought that was bit of an oxymoron but kept silent, trying to look as human and nervous as possible as he watched his friends walk down the rest of the hall and slip past the door into what Stiles knew was the courtyard.

His face turned cold, "What's stopping me from killing you right now?"

Marcel's laughter was mocking in the old, ornate hallway, "Nothing I suppose. Just the lives of those humans, well not their not exactly human, behind that door, but why would the ripper care about five teensy lives of a straggling pack."

Stiles snarled, pressing Marcel against the wall, "What do you want?"

"I want you to suffer," Marcel snapped, pushing Stiles away, "I want the people you care about, the ones who finally worked their way into the cold, empty space in you chest that some dare call a heart, to understand what you really are. If you refuse, I'll happily kill them, drain them in front of you-"

"You'd be dead before you tried."

"And then they would still know. Their human, their weak one, the one who isn't a hunter, not so human after all."

"You have no right," Stiles spit, his true accent crisp around his words, "You are the one who betrayed me. You set Niklaus on a jealous path of self-destruction that ended not only with me daggered, but my sister."