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“Come on grumpy,” Laura had said. “It’ll be fun.”
***
They’d found the board game in an old closet, along with a bunch of other games and toys meant for children or families, the coloured boxes faded and grey with dust.
The Sherriff had given them full run of the house while he was at work, but after five months of waiting for Laura to turn eighteen there wasn’t one movie they hadn’t watched a half dozen times. Neither of them had a car, and between Derek’s totally silence and Laura’s fierce protectiveness since the accident they’d alienated pretty much every one of their former friends.
So even though they were both too old, in the absence of a good wireless connection they were playing boardgames.
“Laura…”
“This is what well-adjusted people do Derek. Come on, there’s only one rule. Even you can’t suck at this game.”
Derek practically threw himself down in the opposite chair. “We’re not well adjusted.”
Laura busied herself with unfolding the game board and choosing a token. “Well sometimes you just have to pretend.”
“I don’t want to pretend!” He reached out and snatched the little carved animals from her fingers. People were always saying stupid things that were somehow supposed to make everything okay. But nothing would ever be okay and Derek didn’t see why he had to help other people feel better about that.
“And who’s going to want to take you in with an attitude like that?”
“You.”
“Eighteen’s not old enough for custody of a minor if they think you’re messed up.”
“The Sherriff-“
“It’s a miracle he’s kept us this long Derek! You think it’s not killing him having you living in his dead kid’s room? Wearing his clothes? We’ve been lucky so far,” Laura’s anger seemed to collapse in on itself and her voice went flat. “If you can’t fake normal, they won’t let me look after you.”
Then they’d both be alone.
Derek looked down at the tokens in his hand, running his thumb over the growling mouth of some indeterminate beast before reaching across the table to put the white piece in his sister’s hand.
“Sorry.”
Her eyes were glassy but she gave him a faint smile. “Derek,”
“You’re right. I – I’ll try. Promise.” He ducked his head before she could say anything else, placing his animal on the board and trying to pry the elephant piece off. “Is this glued?”
Laura huffed a laugh, accepting the change of subject. “Kids. We’ll just play around it. Give me the dice.”
“Why do you get to go first?”
“I’m older than you.”
“Uglier too,” Derek groused, but slapped the dice into her outstretched palm. She stuck her tongue out and dropped them on the board. “Doubles? Seriously Laura?”
“I can still whip your ass at a no skill game.”
“Just roll.”
Before she could retort, the stone hippo he’d given her slid six spaces neatly across the board and the large faceted glass in the center swirled with green smoke.
“Whoa,” They nearly bumped heads in an effort to lean closer.
“At night they fly. You’d better run. These winged things are not much fun.”
There was a strange squeaking sound from the living room and both of them jumped, spinning around to see… absolutely nothing. The lights were off but the glow from the kitchen and the grey sky outside was more than enough to see the room was empty.
Derek made a face. “Anticlimactic.”
“I guess I just roll again?”
He shrugged rather than answer. The dice came up four and the glass swirled out another riddle.
This will not be an easy mission. Monkeys slow the expedition.
This time the noise was chattering and when both of them turned to see the troop of monkeys racing down the stairs it turned in to shrieks.
***
“How could this be the game?”
They were under the kitchen table now, trying to avoid a hail of canned goods as three of the vervets ransacked the Sherriff’s cupboards. The bowl of fruit that had been sitting on the counter was now smeared across the walls and there were claw gouges all over.
“I don’t know,” She shouted, ducking a flying mug. “But it said monkeys and now–“ She waved a frantic hand at the kitchen.
Derek clenched his jaw in frustration. Squaring his shoulders he snapped his arm out, knocking one of the rabid little monsters who’d been creeping up on their table clear across the room.
The rest of the animals froze for an instant before screeching in alarm and dashing for the front door.
Carefully they ducked out from under the table, taking in the carnage that had been brought to the once tidy kitchen.
“You just punched a monkey.” Laura said faintly, looking from the small primate out cold on the tile to Derek. “I don’t care if whatever comes out next kills us; that was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
Derek just glared at his sister.
When they looked back the Sherriff’s kitchen was still destroyed but all of the monkeys were gone.
***
He shook his hand as Laura tried to hand off the dice and she rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. “We have to fix this Derek; and it’s your turn.”
He heaved a sigh and glared at her, but Laura had become immune to Derek’s scowls sometime before second grade and she just thrust the dice at him again.
“This is a bad idea.” Derek repeated.
“Noted,” Laura shrugged. “Do you want to go chasing after the property damage monkeys?”
He threw the pieces down with a grimace, huffing disagreeably when they only came up five.
“His fangs are sharp. He likes your taste,” Laura read off. “Your party better move, posthaste.” Her eyes were wide when she looked up at Derek. “That sounds bad.”
“Told you.”
They both lurched up from the kitchen table, looking for the threat. A sub vocal growl made them turn at the same time to see an enormous furry mane catch the light.
Out of the shadows of the basement padded an enormous lion.
“It’s not-“ Derek risked a glance at Laura, trying not to take his eyes off the animal. “It can’t be real.” She finished, helplessly.
The lion roared; its breath fetid with the smell of blood and meat.
“Run!” She screamed, shoving Derek ahead of her down the hall towards the laundry room. She tried to close the door behind them and Derek barely managed to pull her clear before the animal burst through, hitting the wood hard enough that it hit the wall, snapping back and latching with a click. Momentum sent the lion careening off the washer and they scrambled for the second door which led out into the living room as it righted itself and began to stalk towards them.
Derek tried to push himself in front of his sister, but Laura tugged him back till they were shoulder to shoulder, lacing their fingers together firmly and curling herself to shield him as much as her smaller form was able. The lion roared again, swiping at them with a heavy paw, and Derek buried his face in her hair.
But the blow never came.
A roar that was to human to be animal made Derek’s eyes snap open as a figure leap between them and the lion, brandishing a crude wooden spear.
“Back!”
He – because it was a he from the timbre of his voice – herded Derek and Laura behind him through the door, a constant stream of barely audible chatter running from his mouth. “Not today kitty cat, go find something that doesn’t fight you back, we’re not poaching on your territory. Not prey, we’re not even tasty. Too much running for my life, I’d be all stringy.” The lion reared up and lunged, trying to get its weight on the stranger, to dig claws and teeth into the back of his neck but the man was too quick. He dove away, rolling up and jabbing the spear into the animal’s side.
It roared in pain, dodging and circling towards the door in search of a better angle of attack. “Not today Simba.” The spearpoint darted out again, once, twice, and the lion flinched back. Laura dashed forward and slammed the door on the animal; jamming the lock closed just as the wood shuddered with the impact of who knows how many pounds of fur and flesh.
“Holy shit!” She scrambled away from the creaking wood and tucked herself close to Derek, keeping her body between him, the beast behind the door and the stranger.
Weapon maintenance seemed more of a priority to the man than the two of them. He shoved the roughly cut animal pelt off his head so that he could take a closer look at the bloodied spear, testing its point intently. “I’m gonna need to cut this again.” Under the leopard’s head hood the man’s skin was streaked with dirt and sweat, hair standing up in tufts and hunks as though he’d chopped it off himself without looking. “The Lion King really was a misleading piece of children’s entertainment. There should be more songs, right? I was told that the jungle would have at least seventy five percent more singing and less horrible death.” Tension eased out of the stranger as he turned to them, a shaky smirk on his face. “That was a close one. All hallucinations stick closer in the future; I’m not rescuing incorporeal people ….again…” He trailed off, eyes flicking back and forth over the open space of living room and kitchen with something like awe on his face.
“…Is this real?” Dropping the crude weapon, he seized Laura by the shoulders, yanking her forward. “Did you roll? Who rolled five or eight?”
“Me,” Derek jammed himself between his sister and the madman, his arms spread protectively. “Leave her alone!”
The intensity melted from the man’s face, excitement making him look startlingly young. Derek squawked in surprise as he was yanked off his feet and into a fierce hug. “Thank you.” The stranger whispered hoarsely against his neck. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He dropped Derek again almost as quickly, attention back on Laura in an instant. “Is Dad here? Dad!” The word echoed back from the empty house, but it didn’t deter the stranger’s enthusiasm in the least. “Is he at the station?”
“The Sherriff?” Laura asked slowly. “He’s your father?”
Realization hit Derek like a ton of bricks. “The Stilinski kid.”
“Stiles.” Stiles Stilinski nodded barely paying either of them any attention. “Where is he? I need–“ Dread crept across his face. “He’s alright, isn’t he? Tell me Dad’s okay!”
Derek wondered whether the quiet man who had looked so broken over the sight of Derek in too small hand-me-downs could in any way be considered okay, but Laura just nodded, her smile as reassuring for all that it was fake. “He’s just fine. Don’t worry. He’s gone to work.”
Stilinski whooped. The sound sheer unadulterated joy. “So you must be Scott’s friends? I started playing without you,” He laughed hollow and bitter before trailing off awkwardly with a look at Derek. “…Sorry about … Nevermind. That just…That felt like a long time.” The smile faltered for a moment before it was back and brighter than ever. “I know we were supposed to just hang around here but I would literally sell my kidneys for the taste of a cheeseburger right now. Would you mind going out? I’ll just change.” He looked from Derek to Laura to Derek again, taking them both in. “That’s my shirt.” He gestured at the too small black cotton stretched across Derek’s torso. “You, girl I don’t know, you’re wearing my pyjamas.”
“I’m Laura,” She plucked at the pattern of full moons on the navy flannel pants. “The Sherriff – your dad gave us the pick of anything we needed before he gave the rest away to charity.”
“Charity?”
“He thought you were dead,” Her voice was gentle. “Stiles, you’ve been missing almost four years.”
***
Stiles was shaking.
He tugged the obsidian-shard knife from the grass knotted around his calf and drew it across the inside of his forearm. Blood, thick and red welled up under the blade and he winced at the sting.
Not a dream. Good first step.
The room was his but it was cleaner than he could remember it ever being and practically bare.
A pile of clothes he almost recognized sat folded on the bed. Stiles pulled a red hoodie from the top as he staggered towards the desk, blindly snatching at the frame on it. The photo was one of his mom and dad, laughing together, whole and happy, a long time before her illness. Stiles trace the lines of their faces with trembling fingers.
He’d forgotten what they looked like.
Tucking himself into the corner of the room between the desk and the wall, Stiles pulled his knees to his chest and buried his nose into fabric that smelled like cheap detergent and a safety he hadn’t felt in years.
“Stiles,” Derek’s gruff voice came only a second before the door opened. “Laura said-oh.” He didn’t bother to look away from the old picture, even when he felt Derek crouch down next to him. “You’re bleeding.”
Oh of course, the cut. Infection might be the least of his worries but it could still kill as surely as the claws and fangs waiting for him in the dark. He needed to find water and a safe place to light a fire so he could boil it clean and –
“I think there’s peroxide in the bathroom.”
Laughter bubbled up in Stiles’ throat till he thought he might choke on it. Half giggling, half sobbing he let Derek manhandle him to the sink. Peroxide, naturally.
The hysteria only ebbed when Derek pressed a soaked cotton pad against the cut. “You okay now?” He asked warily.
“That’s a little relative, dude.” Stiles peered at the mirror, avoiding his own face for the moment in favour of studying Derek’s sharp cheekbones and strong chin. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen and a half.”
“It was my fifteenth birthday last week,” Stiles forced himself to examine his own face for the first time. He was gaunt from near starvation; all traces of the baby fat he’d so hated had burned away and coarse hair matted his jawline. “Or four years ago. I’m not sure really, it didn’t feel like four years. It felt like days or maybe a decade. I’m not sure how linear time functions in a world that looks like the Victorian perception of darkest Africa created by a possessed gameboard.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“I’d make a comment about how long it’s been since I’ve had an actually conversation but the truth is no, not really.” And if he didn’t talk with no one to talk to, no human in the whole world besides him, then what if he forgot how? He’d turn into Tarzan, Ape King of the jungle; which he would have said was awesome right up until it became a realistic possibility. If he didn’t stay human he’d miss his chance to get out when it came. Because he had to keep believing it was coming. No one was coming after him and if he lost his mind he’d be there, forever in the jungle.
Inhaling sharply, Stiles dragged his mind back. The bathroom looked exactly like he remembered it, but I couldn’t be just a memory because there was someone else here. Admittedly, Derek looked a lot like a fantasy but if he was Stiles’ brain would have made him a lot less grumpy and a lot more naked. He raised his free hand to brush through the uneven chop of his hair, ignoring Derek’s grimace as the movement tugged his injured arm away from the band-aid. “I need to get rid of this. Got any scissors?”
“You need a shower first.” Derek groused. The pad he’d used to clean the cut had come away black with dirt.
“Oh my god!” Stiles pulled away from Derek and towards the tub, stripping off the rags of his clothing as he moved. “A shower! Hot water, I’ve been dreaming about you.” The tap ran clear and steaming and Stiles wanted to crow with happiness. “This is the best thing in the universe right here. You have no idea. No idea.” He poked at Derek who was studying the bathroom door intently before leaping under the water and doing a little shimmy as he moaned in pleasure. “I’m never leaving.” He declared. “I’m going to stay under here forever.”
Derek murmured something still facing away, but Stiles was too far under the drugging spell of hot water to care.
***
“You’ll get pruny.”
Derek’s ears were burning, but he forced himself not to turn around as Stiles made another elated sound at the warmth.
Of course a boy who’d been living in the jungle for four years wouldn’t have any problem with nudity. The image of creamy freckled skin stretched across wiry muscle flashed across his mind’s eye again unbidden and he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking another glance in the mirror.
Stiles was all long rangy limbs and lean muscle, practically dancing in the water as he shivered with delight at the clean, simple heat. Totally at odds with the man who’d fought a lion in the living room; who’d been curled up in the corner almost hyperventilating over an old photograph.
He could have asked. The councillor who’d visited he and Laura afterwards would have made noises about shared grief and opening up to heal but Derek stayed quiet anyway. Stiles didn’t seem to have any trouble filling the silence on his own; chattering a constant murmured monologue which was only just audible over the noise of the water.
“….better than being drenched to the skin every time it rains and calling it even. It’s so hard to feel actually clean with no soap, right? Though I have to admit this shampoo smells terrible. I wonder if Dad replaced it while I was away. Who am I kidding? It’s a flat out miracle the house is still standing with the way he used to work. If those clowns on the town council could have promoted him higher than Sherriff then they damn well should have. When, if, when I get back, I’ll have to make sure he’s been eating healthy-“
“Stilinski!” Derek’s caught his eyes in the mirror as Stiles’ head snapped up. His expression was shocked, as though he’d forgotten where he was.
Derek dropped his gaze from the glass and snagged a towel off the hook on the door, offering it blindly and not turning around until the water was off.
And now he was face to face with a wet naked man, close enough to feel the heat radiate off him and pick out the beads of water in his clumped eyelashes. Close enough to touch if he reached out just a little.
“There’s a razor.” Derek practically barked and Stiles recoiled in surprise. “In the cupboard. And – uh – clippers. For hair.”
Stiles blinked at him a moment before rubbing his jaw with a rueful expression. “I guess I do look a little like the wolfman.”
Derek nodded jerkily before he could stop himself and fled.
***
“Guuuuys” Laura whined from the hallway. “Are you done playing makeover?”
“He’s showering.” Derek muttered, sliding out of the bedroom where he had absolutely not been hiding until he could make his heart rate slow back to normal.
Laura’s head shot up. “He’s done showering. I heard the water turn off aaages ago. And you, baby brother, have only just now appeared.” She gave him a wicked smile. “Were you washing his back?”
“Laura.”
“What? He’s handsome for a wild man. Or at least he might be under all that hair.”
“Stop it.”
“Or do you like the whole savage thing?” She jabbed him in the ribs, laughing as he tried not to flinch away. “You’d make a terrible damsel in distress.”
“Stop.” Derek groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I hate you.”
“Fine, fine romance later. We have a game to finish anyway.”
“Finish?” Stiles yanked open the bedroom door, ignoring the way Laura gaped at his restored appearance.
His ragged hair had been shorn off close enough that it was just a soft looking fuzz against his scalp. Without the patchy beard he looked years younger - all wide brown eyes and generous mouth - but it emphasized the hollow quality to his cheeks that came from near starvation, and revealed the thin white lines of four parallel scars that ran across one side of his face.
Laura’s smile was soppily maternal, like she was thinking of the best way to bundle Stilinski up in sweaters and take care of him but it vanished the second he shouldered past them.
“There is no way I am playing that demon game.”
“We have to finish,” She protested. “That’s the only way we can put everything back to normal.”
“Have fun with that.” He waved over one shoulder, tugging the red hoodie he’d been holding earlier over his t-shirt. Ignoring that it no longer covered his wrists. “I’m going to see my Dad.”
Stiles muttered to himself under his breath as he stormed down the stairs, past the game still spread out on the kitchen table - Derek and Laura scrambling after him – and headed for the house’s side door when a low sonorous growl brought him up short.
Stiles spun on his heel to see the siblings standing on either side of the board looking impatient. Derek was holding out the dice. “There is a lion in your laundry room, Stiles.” Laura reminded him as though she were talking to a very small child.
“I’ll deal with it after I see my Dad.” He shrugged. “I’ve killed one before.”
“Really?” It was hard to imagine this soft, lanky, clean-shaven Stiles killing anything at all.
Stiles looked offended by Derek’s skepticism “I set a trap for it.” He explained as he picked through monkey debris to search the kitchen drawers. “There was a pit and spikes. It was all very impressive-where are my keys?”
“Keys?”
“To my jeep which I can then take to find my dad, who had a gun, which will make it easier to deal with the lion!”
“We can deal with the Lion!” Laura insisted, waving at the board. “Derek and I play through as fast as we can. You warn us if anything bad shows up again. Fifteen minutes, tops.”
“Anything bad?!” Stiles shouted over her, flailing his arms in frustration. “Everything bad! There’s no ‘you advance six spaces and nothing freaking happens’ in this game. It’s ‘you advance six spaces and bats’ or ‘you advance six spaces and snakes’. Six spaces and literally anything you can imagine will come out of that game to kill you. I can’t fight these things off okay? The lion was luck and desperation. I don’t fight. I run. I’ve been running for my life since the night I put that elephant piece on the board and I am not doing it again!”
“That’s you?” Stiles head snapped towards him and Derek shrugged awkwardly. “It wouldn’t move.”
“See that means you’re still playing!” Laura smiled. “This is your game still and if we finish it. Then that sends you back, right?”
You think it’ll send me back four years in time?” Stiles asked, deadpan. “Sorry Doc Brown but-“
“You said yourself it could do anything.’
And if it did…If they finished the game and went back to the night Stiles Stilinski had disappeared, then he and Laura would have years to come up with a plan. They could badger Dad into fixing the gas line or a family trip or anything. Derek would chop his own arm off and take them all along to the emergency room to get them out of the house before the fire. Who cares if he had to go through ninth grade again if it meant getting his family back?
“Please.” Was all Derek could force out over the lump in his throat.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Stiles threw up his arms in surrender, his whole body flailing with the movement. “I want you both to know that I hate you. I’d say I hope you get eaten by a crocodile if that wasn’t actually a real possibility.” He snatched the dice from Derek and flung them at the board.
“Eleven,” Laura peered over her brother’s shoulder. “Good roll.”
He scoffed but didn’t answer. Derek looked up as the message appeared, but Stiles was frozen, rigid, his eyes wide enough to see the whites all around and fixed on the words. “A Hunter from the darkest wild makes you feel just like a child.”
“What?” Derek searched the room’s corners for signs of malicious wildlife.
Stiles’ voice was a hoarse whisper. “Argent.”
He dropped to the floor half an instant before one of the front windows shattered. A bullet embedded itself in the wall right where his head had been.
“What?” Laura shrieked.
“Hunter!” Stiles grabbed his hand just as Derek threw himself over his sister and yanked them both to their feet. Laura snagged the board, snapping it shut as he dragged them both out of the ruined kitchen
“Why is he shooting at us?”
“You ever heard of ‘the most dangerous game’?” Stiles shouted back over the crack of gunshots. “This is the movie!”
An old man in a pith helmet, carrying the nineteenth century equivalent to an assault rifle kicked in the ruined front door.
Stiles looked up at the celling for a moment. “When I tell you to,” He reached out, groping blindly at the wall. “Run for the front door.”
“Past him?” Derek hissed even as Laura agreed.
“Shakespeare wrote that all which lives must die,” Argent smirked at the group of them, his eyes cold as he leveled the gun. “Let me pass you through to eternity.”
“Now!”
Stiles flicked on the lights and there was a chorus of rustling squeaks as the colony of large bats which had been hanging from the celling all came awake at the same time. Stiles, Derek and Laura sprinted for the door as the bats descended, engulfing Argent and billowing out into the street.
They stopped, crouched by a lamppost on the far side from the house and watching intently. “Vampire bats, vampire bats, come on vampire bats.” Stiles was chanting, his fingers crossed tightly.
Another shot zinged past his ear.
“Nope.”
Derek shoved at him to get moving.
“We need to get out of here!” He huffed as they raced pell-mell down the street. “Where’s somewhere no one would go?”
“There’s a place.” Laura began just as Derek jerked his head to where the forest rose beyond the Stilinski’s street.
Behind them Argent’s gun clicked empty and the old man cursed. “Scatter,” Stiles instructed. “Circle the block then come back past the house and run for the woods. It’ll make us harder for him to track.”
Derek and Laura nodded simultaneously with identical expressions of grim determination and then took off in opposite directions as fleet as wolves.
***
The shell of the building was blackened and twisted. One side of it was just gone, as though it had been partially exploded, and the rest was broken beams and ash barely keeping out the elements. “Is that the Hale house? Stiles asked. Oh – you’re- you’re Laura and Derek Hale aren’t you?” Neither of them responded. “What happened?”
Derek shoved past him angrily and climbed the remains of the porch, ignoring Laura’s hand on his wrist. “There was a fire.” She said finally, stepping close enough that her shoulder brushed Stiles’.
“It’s just the two of you?”
She nodded. “Derek hasn’t really…this is the most he’s spoken since it happened.”
“When I lost my mom…” Stiles began and then stopped himself short; the memory of other people trying to connect to his grief heavy and bitter in his mouth. “Well, it’s different, isn’t it? Give it time, I guess.”
Laura’s smile was faint but appreciative. “I’m just glad he’s still in there somewhere.”
Derek turned back, looking fierce, though he was too far away to have heard them. “The basement’s still mostly here. Come on.”
***
Someone, probably the county, had put up barriers blocking off the damaged sections of the basement from the parts that were still connected to the rest of the house, trying to keep reckless teenagers from injuring themselves in the debris. With the plywood in place it was the most solid section of the whole building.
Laura shivered as they set up the board and Derek’s face was dark, but he handed off the dice with grim determination.
They spun up snake eyes and his glare got even more pronounced which made Laura chuckle and swat at him. “Are you still mad that I’m winning?”
That shocked a laugh out of Stiles. “You two are actually crazy.”
Derek just shrugged, but amusement tugged the corner of his mouth until he was smiling.
“Oh god,” Laura whined as the board swirled green again. “I don’t want to look.”
“Every Month at the quarter moon comes a monstrous monsoon.”
The light from outside began to dim. “Monsoon?” Laura repeated over the sound of thunder. “You cannot be serious.”
“Get the board.” Stiles said emphatically, tugging his hood over his newly shorn hair, as though the cotton could keep out water. “We need to get to higher ground.”
“We’re inside!”
“Because that’s made such a difference so far.” Laura cuffed her brother on the back of the head as Stiles tugged him up, the rain already falling hard enough that they were completely drenched
Water was pouring into the basement much faster than it could drain out again. It swirled in eddies around their ankles, rising quickly.
Derek’s hair was plastered to his scalp and his jeans felt as though they weighed a ton, but he picked up the dice and staggered for the stairs. There was a torrent pouring down the wooden steps. Laura tripped with a surprised cry and was instantly submerged. Derek seized her elbow and wrenched her upright again, Stiles’ firm hold on his hand keeping them both balanced.
“Come on,” He urged, shouting over the rush of water. “Almost there.”
Then a solid wall of rushing water struck him hard enough to send all three of them tumbling.
Derek was suddenly plunged into darkness and silence. He twisted and kicked out, trying to connect with the floor and right himself but there was no way to tell which direction was up. He’d barely had time to take a breath before the wave hit and his lungs were burning already. Laura was nowhere within reach. The only solid point in his whole world was the death grip of Stiles’ hand.
He yanked on that arm and collided with another body just in time to break the surface of the water with a gasp. Light and sound rushing back to him all at once with Laura’s shout of “Oh thank god!”
She was only a few feet away, struggling to tread water as more rain poured down. They were barely two feet from the ceiling now, the force of the current pushing them further and further from the stairs which had become little more than a waterfall
“Derek,” She choked and spat, trying to stay afloat. “You have to roll or we’re going to drown!”
She shoved the barely floating board towards him and Derek seized it with one hand, going under as he tried to free the dice from his pocket with the other. Stiles wrapped and arm over his ribs and hauled him just a little further out of the water. His cheek pressed close enough that Derek could hear his desperate panting over the thunder of the water. “Can’t get any worse right?”
Derek dropped the dice, his knuckles hitting the roof in the last six inches of air, but couldn’t twist his head far enough to read the board.
“Deep breath.” Stiles said in his ear, just as Derek called out for his sister, tugging Laura close. If they were going to die here with the rest of their family, at least they’d be together.
A chunk of plaster and plywood hit Stiles on the forehead and he went under. Derek didn’t even realize they were still supporting one another’s weight until he was suddenly sinking himself and dragging Laura down with him. He surfaced again into a rain that was no longer water, but dust and looked up to see the ceiling splitting apart overhead. In seconds it had yawned wide enough that he could see the living room cracking high above them.
The chandelier that had once lit the space was shaking so badly that the few remaining crystal drops were flying everywhere. As Derek watched, the whole thing began to come away from its moorings; the ruined wiring completely unable to take the fixture’s weight.
“What the hell?” Stiles sputtered, wrapping one of Laura’s arms around his shoulders to help keep her afloat.
Rearing out of the water Derek dunked them both again, shoving them to safety as the chandelier hit with a splash, impacting hard with Derek’s side.
He spasmed in pain and went under again, shouting. He caught a glimpse of Laura trying to shout for him, her face distorted by bubbles and swirling dirt and ignored the sting in his ribs to kick for the surface.
Hands sized his elbows as soon as they were free of the water, guiding him to the edge of the fissure and something blessedly solid to hang on to. Derek wiped water from his eyes and opened them to Stiles weak grin. “Good roll.” He panted, grabbing at a protruding two by four with a groan of relief.
Laura tossed the game board clear of the hole and scrabbled at the rough edges of the broken floor, hauling herself out of the water before reaching back to pull them up. Between her and Stiles they managed to pull Derek free, and all three of them collapsed across the burned carpet, soaked, exhausted and gasping for air.
“Was that,” Stiles puffed. “An earthquake?” he rolled over just far enough to look annoyed at Derek. “Did you cause an earthquake?”
Something knocked against his shoulder and Derek craned his neck to see Laura kicking at him weakly. He caught her ankle and squeezed lightly for just a second, reassuring each of them that the other was safe and sound again.
Slowly they pulled themselves together; migrating across the floor into a little knot crouched around the board. Stiles rubbed water off the dice with a thumb, looking at both of them in turn. “Are you ready?”
“Not even a little.” Laura answered instantly
“Hey,” He shrugged, dropping the dice. “Better than being alone in the jungle.”
Derek pressed against his shoulder lightly as they all peered at the game’s center jewel.
They grow much faster than bamboo, take care or they’ll come after you.
“Okay,” Stiles said quickly. “We need to get out of here.”
Derek tried to struggle to his feet, ignoring the way his bruised side screamed at him. “What now?”
“Plants,” Laura said faintly. “It must be.”
“We need to get out in the open.” Stiles said with a calm that wasn’t in any way reassuring. “Don’t move too fast and don’t let them trap you.”
Laura led the way, edging to the ruin of the front door, watching the thin vines twine their way up the broken walls, each tendril growing thicker as it moved.
“Stiles?”
“Stay away from the flowers, Derek. I know they’re pretty but they are also very, very poisonous. The purple ones cause hallucinations.”
“Stiles!”
“That was not a fun week let me tell you, and I was lucky to get away before I collapsed. There are these yellow ones-“
“Stiles, what do the yellow ones do?!”
“They eat you whole.” He answered, turning to see Derek roped by one wrist to the wall and being slowly tugged towards an enormous yellow pod that looked like an orchid with green fangs.
“Then help me!”
“Derek!”
“Run!” Stiles shoved Laura hard towards the door. “Get an axe. Anything we can chop them down with!” He sprinted back into the main room and dove at Derek, hard enough send them both sprawling. The vines holding him twisted and then snapped as they hit the carpet. Stiles coughed, winded, and looked up just in time to see Derek’s eyes widen before they were rolling across the floor. A line of poison tipped spines sinking into the broken wood where they had been lying just a moment before.
“Are there any whole rooms left?”
“Derek nodded, close enough that Stiles could feel his breath. “Basement.”
“The one that’s full of water?”
Derek rolled his eyes and pulled them both up. He made an aborted grab for the game, but Stiles seized him around the waist and yanked him backwards before the vine reaching from the doorway could get a grip on him.
Fumbling and tripping they practically fell into the ruined hallway. Stiles back hit the wall, which opened a little behind him, Derek’s weight pushing him through and into the small, dark space beyond. Vines wavered in the air, slithering towards them. Derek slammed the door, throwing his weight against it as Stiles peeled off his soaked hoodie, shoving it into the gap at the base of the door. There was a creak of wood as the carnivorous vegetation wrapped around their hiding place but nothing came through.
After a moment of tense silence Derek slumped against the door with a shaky sigh of relief.
“Where are we?” Stiles asked from somewhere near his feet.
“Closet under the stairs,” Derek explained. “I forgot it was here.”
“Very Harry Potter of you.
“They’ve finished those now.”
“Oh my god really? That’s what we’re doing next okay? We’re finishing this stupid game and then we are watching all the Harry Potter movies because I haven’t seen a movie in four years and I-“
“Stiles.”
“Sorry, sorry. Just… we’re stuck in here and small spaces… I don’t like to be anywhere with just one way out.”
“Mean’s there’s only one way in.” Derek shifted from where he was slumped against the door back onto his feet. This brought them flush together from knee to hip, their feet tangled in the small square of floor space.
There was a clunk and a pained breath. Stiles had leaned away far enough to hit his head off the back of the closet. Derek tried to move away without falling. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Stiles hands were on his shoulders in an instant, their damp shirts clinging together. “I mean.” Derek thought he could almost make out the sweep of his lashes, as Stiles ducked his head. “I – usually have more to say.”
Derek reached forward in the dark, brushing his fingertips gently over Stiles’ cheek to map out the shape of his face in the dark before cradling his jaw and pulling him close.
“I don’t usually talk at all.”
Stiles made him want to talk, because he wouldn’t talk back. Because everything hurt, and Stiles would understand, could put it into perspective. He and Laura spent so much time trying to be strong for one another - But Stiles… they’d known him barely three hours and he’d saved them - saved Laura - over and over.
He felt safe with Stiles, secure in a way that he hadn’t felt since that cop showed up at school and told him Laura was the only thing left.
But he’ll never get to say any of that, because to talk he would have to stop kissing Stiles and from the moment their lips touched that was something he never ever, ever wanted to do.
Stiles was trembling, with panic or something else; sweaty from running and fighting and trying not to die in clothes that were still heavy with water, making the whole closet steam.
He kissed like he might never get another chance at it. Greedy and forceful and desperate. Derek was bigger, broader than Stiles for all that he was younger but Stiles’ strength overwhelmed. He yanked at Derek like he was trying to crawl his way inside his skin.
Stiles lifted him up and crowded them both against the wall but Derek was the one to put his thumbs against the hinge of Stiles’ jaw and tilt his head just right to make the kiss go from searching to filthy and perfect. Stiles surged forward so that their hips slid and stuttered together but it was Derek’s hand that ran down the valley of his spine and clutched at him, to get them moving together in a slow, hard grind.
There was a muffled thunk and the sound of splintering wood. They broke the dizzying kiss, but didn’t have time to let go of one another before the door opened and Laura Hale, holding an axe and backlit in blinding sunlight took one look and started to laugh.
“I know I should be ticked,” Laughter made her almost unintelligible. “Because really boys, now is not the time – but,” She leaned on the axe as though it were a cane. “Your faces!”
Laura waved in the direction of the porch. “When you’ve, ah, collected yourselves.” She finished with a very pointed look at Stiles’ still wet and clinging jeans.
“Four years in the jungle,” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face. “I finally get out and I’m still going to die a virgin.”
Derek dropped his face into the curve of Stiles’ shoulder, his huff of laughter ghosting over skin. Two fingers under Derek’s chin tipped his face up and he couldn’t help but grin at the blush that stained Stiles cheeks.
“I’m rolling now!” Laura called loudly from outside before he could steal another kiss.
“I hate you!” Derek growled back, the words mostly muffled into Stiles shoulder.
They came screaming out of the closet a minute later when an enormous hairy spider dropped down from the ceiling.
***
“Derek, you’re only ten spaces away.”
“Think I can cheat it?”
“Don’t try.” She warned emphatically.
The dice bounced once, then spun up three and one. “Hey,” Stiles bumped his shoulder lightly. “Only six left.”
Laura ignored them, leaning close to the board. “Don’t count your victory too soon, there’s magic in the wild moon.”
She and Derek looked in unison to Stiles, but his attention had snapped to the place where Derek’s fingers were resting on the board.
“Your hands!” Laura snatched one up to stare at the thick growth of hair that had appeared over her brother’s arms. When he looked to Stiles in panic Derek’s eyes were glowing unearthly red.
Laura scrambled away as Derek howled. Actually howled; the sound inhuman and terrifying. “Are you turning into a wolf?”
“I think he’s a jackal actually.”
“Stiles!” Derek roared.
“Well there aren’t any wolves in the jungle!”
“There aren’t any lions either, but since it was raining indoors I guess this game isn’t strong on realism.” Laura swatted at him. “Now roll!”
Stiles dropped the dice and didn’t even bother watching as they fell, his eyes fixed on the dark glass.
“A single bite can make you itch, make you sneeze, make you twitch. “ He read off quickly. “Oh, that’s not so bad.”
“Sounds bad.” Derek said awkwardly around a set of actual fangs that had pushed out against his lower lip. Stiles reached out to brush one with the pad of his thumb, pulling back before he made contact with a quick glance at Laura and trying to ignore the way Derek swayed forward to follow the movement with hunger in his eyes.
“This is okay, we can just keep inside. They’re bugs. No problem. Big bugs but they can’t exactly claw through wood.” He flinched at the sound of splintering timber.
Derek dropped the handle of the door he’d been gripping and the large chunk of wood it was still attached to. “I can -” He started weakly. The same coarse hair from his hands had furred the line of his jaw now and his voice was lower, more ragged. “I can smell you.” He stepped close to Stiles with the liquid grace of a predator. Acting on instinct trained in the primordial jungle, Stiles shifted his weight, preparing to dodge away without ever dropping his gaze from Derek’s.
“You can’t blame me for smelling a bit sweaty, man,” Neither of them so much as flicked a glance at Laura even as she called her brother’s name.
“You smell like prey.”
“I’m not.” Stiles held carefully still, because if you ran from a predator, if you showed fear, you were food. “Not prey. Not even for you.”
Derek blinked and seemed to recover himself, recoiling away from both Stiles and Laura with a sound like a wounded animal. “What was that?” He begged. “What the hell was that?”
Laura crouched close and moved to put her arms around him, but Stiles’ halted the gesture with a hand on her shoulder. “He’s losing control. Becoming… whatever the game is turning him into.” He looked back at Derek, broken and scared on the floor of his family’s decimated home. “We have to lock you down. Find something you can’t break through.” A buzzing whine of insect wings made all three of them look up.
“Exactly how bad are these ‘bites’” Laura asked.
Stiles snapped the game board shut and started off quickly in the direction of the road. “I can’t remember.”
“Were they one of the first things you found?”
“No,” He glanced back to be sure Derek was following; the other boy was nearly inaudible even on the dry leaves that coated the path. “I mean I can’t remember. I only know I heard them and then I woke up covered in welts and blood and I puked black for four days. So let’s assume fairly bad and hurry.”
The broke into a run as the sound of buzzing drew closer. Clearing the treeline at a sprint Stiles almost fell over an abandoned car. The weather stripping had been peeled from the windows and there were monkey tracks all over it, but the lights were on, keys still in the ignition.
“Get in!” he called, sprinting around for the driver’s side.
Laura stopped d him with a shove. “Let someone who’s been in a car in the last three years drive.”
From where he was watching the sky Derek let out a growl that sounded like a warning. Stiles rolled his eyes and slid across the hood to duck into the passenger seat. They had barely slammed their doors when a swarm of mosquitos the size of softballs buzzed over them. Laura cringed back hard in her seat, Stiles and Derek both reaching out at the same time to reassure her.
“We’re okay,” Stiles said quickly. “They can’t get in. We’re okay, just drive,” He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Drive!”
Laura squeaked and jammed her foot down on the accelerator, Stiles shouting panicked, unhelpful instructions as they fishtailed across the road, heading back toward the center of town.
***
The white hippo token slid back one space, but nothing else seemed to happen.
“A maharaja? Seriously, that’s India!” Laura groused. “This game is really racist.”
“Not the point – CAR!” Stiles shouted, shoving her hand away from the dice and back towards the steering wheel.
“I see it,” She swerved them around the abandoned escalade, taking a corner so hard they were practically on two wheels. “How many spaces till you win?”
“Eight.” Fighting to right the board so it was balanced over the center console, Stiles passed the dice blindly backwards. “But it’s Derek’s turn.”
He looked backwards when Derek made no move to take them, only to start in panic. “Holy – Derek?”
There was a very furry Cro-Magnon man sitting in the back seat. Derek’ attention seemed completely focused on him, his red eyes glued to Stiles’ neck. “Your roll big guy.”
All he got in response was a barring of sharp teeth. Stiles tugged Derek’s hand close and pressed the dice into his palm, letting both drop over the board.
“Don’t be fooled,“ He read aloud. “It isn’t thunder. Staying put would be a blunder.”
The thrum of the car’s engine seemed to grow louder, an almost undetectable vibration rattling the car’s windows. The antelope that collided hard with the rear driver’s-side door, however, was hard to miss.
“Stampede!” Stiles shouted, over Derek’s wordless roar of fury. “Go, go, go!”
Laura yanked on the parking break, throwing the wheel hard to the right. The car spun out in a screech of burning rubber and teenagers screaming, and suddenly they were watching all the birds and beasts of the savannah charge past the windshield. With a bellow and the sound of tearing metal Derek was out of the car and chasing down the column of animals.
Flinging her seatbelt aside, Laura leapt out, screaming after her brother; Stiles following in an instant. “Laura,” He wrapped both arms around her waist, hauling her back against the car as the next wave of elephants thundered by. “It’s okay, he’s okay. He’s the meanest thing in that herd, guaranteed,” He chattered lowly in her ear, willing her to calm down and for his words to be more convincing than he felt. “At worst he’ll eat bambi’s mother, we’ll finish the game and he’ll become a vegetarian. All we need to do is go back to where he can find us. We finish this and everything will go back to normal. He’ll be okay Laura, he will.” Stiles prayed he was doing a better job convincing Derek’s sister than he was managing at convincing himself.
She heaved a deep, slow breath. “Get the game.”
***
They followed the path of carnage the stampede had left behind. Picking their way hand in hand around crushed cars and broken lamp posts, both focused on searching for any sign of Derek. The rampage had brought them back towards Stiles’ once quiet neighbourhood. He stopped, pulling Laura up short with him and listened.
The street was still quiet. No one was screaming or smashing windows. There was no sound of running feet or braying animals. Even the birds were silent.
“Something’s wrong.” He said, just before a bullet creased a chunk of flesh from the top of his shoulder.
Stiles eyes widened and he dropped to his knees, instinctively cupping one hand over his collarbone to put pressure on the damaged area. Laura had screamed, but the sound seemed to come from far away and she was right beside him now, speaking franticly. Her voice stretched like a rubber band and then snapped back into coherence when she slapped her hands over his and pain cleared his head.
“-Keep pressure on it, you’re going to be okay Stiles, you’ll be okay.”
“Laura,”
“Oh my god, okay, you’re okay. Just keep talking.”
“Laura! You have to get out of here.”
“What?” She stopped trying to pull off her overshirt one handed. “I’m not leaving you.”
Stiles used her body to lever himself into a sitting position. “Who do you think shot me?” It was a warning, not a question, but the crunch of boot heels on broken glass said he was too late.
“I did,” Argent called. He was reloading his gun with smooth, unhurried motions. “It’s a shame; I had a better shot on the girl. But you rolled the dice, Mr. Stilinski.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Laura leapt to her feet, putting herself between Stiles and the crazy old hunter. “He’s just a kid!”
Before Argent could even open his mouth she swung the game board up with both hands and struck him full across the face with the heavy wood. Argent went sprawling and the momentum almost made her fall along with him.
“Stiles!” She turned back to offer him the board, but before he could even begin to crawl forward Argent seized her by the shoulder and the game went clattering to the ground.
The old hunter grinned as he pulled one arm back to strike. Laura threw her hands up, seizing him at the wrist and forearm and twisting, throwing her weight forward to knock him off balance and sliding her left grip back to his shoulder so she could bend Argent at the waist and bring her knee up into his stomach.
Stiles crawled forward, scrambling for the board.
Argent dropped his weight just enough to break Laura’s grip and sent an elbow hard into her stomach. She reeled back and he bullrushed her, tackling Laura around the middle and sending her tripping backward over debris, his mass driving her hard into the ground.
She groaned and Stiles’ head snapped up, his fingers clenching blindly around the dice as he flipped the leaves of the board open.
“Drop them.” Argent ordered. He was bleeding from the nose and a cut above his eyebrow that must have come from the corner of the game board, but his hand was steady on the gun.
Stiles let the dice spill from his fingers and struggled to his feet. “Haven you chased me long enough yet?” He shouted. “There have to be more interesting things out there to shoot, right? I mean come on, I’m not much of a challenge. You always find me so fast. Where’s the thrill of the hunt in that?”
A small smile crossed Argent’s face as he wiped blood from his mouth. “You know, you’re right.”
“I am?” He coughed quickly. “Of course I am. You’re way to badass to waste your talents on someone like me-“
“You are exactly right,” The Hunter continued. “After I shoot you, I’m going to start looking for better sport. That Sherriff might be perfect. Or your friend; I haven’t added a wolf head to my collection in a long, long time.”
Stiles stepped forward, barely hesitating when the rifle leveled at his forehead, his jaw tight. “You stay away from them.”
“How about I just send them your regards.”
Laura leapt onto Argent’s back, one arm around his throat and her nails going for his eyes.
The gun went off.
“Stiles!”
The animalistic howl of his name, only barely intelligible, came a split second before the crack of the gunshot and suddenly Derek was between them, propelled backwards into Stiles’ chest and bearing them both to the floor.
“No!” Laura shoved the hunter away. Skidding over to kneel beside her baby brother, she pressed her already bloodied palms against the wound in his chest.
The red light had gone out of Derek’s eyes, his face easing back into a more familiar form as he gasped for breath. “I couldn’t let him get hurt Laur.” Derek coughed. There was blood on his mouth already. The bullet had punctured a lung.
“You idiot,” Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together. “You could have finished the game without me.”
“Was your turn.”
“Stiles,” Laura interrupted. “Stiles!”
“What?”
“Look!” She jerked her head in the direction of the forgotten board. “You won.”
“I what?”
“You won!” She was sobbing now. “Say it, goddamn you Stiles! He’s going to die if you don’t”
“Jumanji,” the word was an incredulous exhale before his brain caught up with his mouth. “Jumanji, Derek. Jumandji, jumanji, jumanji. Don’t you dare die on me- Jumanji, dammit! You have to be okay.”
There was the sound of rushing wind, and roaring animals, Laura bent close, shielding them both, but he couldn’t look away from Derek’s wet eyes “Jumanji.” Stiles whispered again, leaned forward and kissed him hard,
***
“Stiles, I – holy crap!”
They jerked apart in time to see Scott standing in the perfectly intact doorway of Stiles perfectly intact home staring at three perfectly intact people crouched on the living room floor. He whirled around, clamping a hand over his eyes.
“There were better ways to come out to me man!”