S3E8 - Visionary

While Scott and Allison searched Gerard Argent's old house for clues to defeat the Alpha pack, Stiles made his way to Hale's loft. After the chaos of the previous day, he knew Derek wasn't there, but he suspected the rest of the pack would be.

The heavy metal door slid open with a low groan, and Stiles stepped inside. The faint hum of tension filled the air, thick with unspoken worry.

"It's what we were taught to do when hunters found us. Hide and heal." Cora said, turning from where she stood near the window. Her gaze met Stiles', her expression unreadable.

Stiles tilted his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"So it's standard? Or are we thinking Derek's on an extended getaway?" His eyes flicked toward Boyd and Isaac, who sat side by side on the couch, their postures tense and wary.

"Why do you care?" Cora asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.

"Because in the last few weeks, my best friend almost killed himself, his boss nearly got ritually sacrificed, a girl I've known since I was three was ritually sacrificed, and something is clearly wrong with Sasha. You really need me to go on? Because I can. For like an hour." Stiles said and exhaled sharply, frustration evident in the tight set of his shoulders.

"You think Derek can do anything about it?" Cora's lips pressed into a thin line.

"Since he's the one everyone seems to be after, it's more like he should do something about it." Stiles shot back. "And I hate to say it, but Derek is Sasha's boyfriend. He's supposed to be with her, protect her from Deucalion-not running away."

"She broke up with him yesterday." Boyd said quietly, his gaze lowering as if reluctant to share the news.

"Why?" Stiles blinked, confusion tightening his brow. The words didn't fit the puzzle forming in his mind.

"We don't know." Isaac replied, shrugging with a helpless tilt of his hands. "Derek didn't elaborate. I tried to call Sasha to understand, but she texted me she was hanging with Jackson and didn't want to talk about it." He added.

Stiles' eyes narrowed, his mind immediately locking onto the inconsistency. "Jackson went back to London yesterday morning." He said worriedly.

Silence fell over the loft, thick with the unspoken realization that something was undeniably wrong with Sasha.

"Deucalion seems to know what's happening with her." Cora said quietly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You're not seriously suggesting we bring her to him, are you?" Isaac said, his tone sharp, edged with disbelief.

"You might not know her like I do, but Sasha's been my best friend since we were kids. Whatever's going on, we're gonna figure it out and help her. Not throw her to the wolves-literally." Stiles stepped forward, his voice firm.

On the couch, Boyd shifted uneasily, his gaze flicking between them.

"I get that, Stiles. But... something's wrong with her. We've all seen it. And with Derek gone, maybe Deucalion is the only one who knows what we're dealing with. We might not have another choice." He quietly suggested.

"No." Stiles snapped, his eyes blazing with determination. "We are not going to him. That's not an option."

"Then what's your plan?" Cora shot back, stepping closer, her frustration bubbling over. "Derek's gone, Sasha won't talk to any of you, and Boyd's life is hanging by a thread! You're acting like we have time to sit around and hope she magically gets better. We don't!" She said angrily.

The room fell into tense silence, everyone's eyes fixed on Stiles as if daring him to come up with a solution. His heart pounded in his chest, but before he could answer, a slow, deliberate clapping echoed from the spiral staircase.

"Well, well... such passion." Peter drawled as he descended the stairs, his smirk as infuriating as ever. "And yet, so little direction. Fortunately for you, I might know a thing or two about what's happening to our dear Sasha." He added.

Peter stepped down from the staircase, his sharp gaze sweeping over the four young faces before him. The air seemed to grow heavier as if anticipating the weight of his words.

"Gather around. It's story time. And trust me. This one's worth hearing." He said with a faint smirk.

Reluctantly, Stiles, Cora, Isaac, and Boyd moved closer and sat on the couch, tension thick between them. Peter clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he began.

"You all know Sasha killed her former Alpha and his two brothers, the Gallagher siblings. What you don't know is what that act unleashed." His voice dropped slightly, and the faint flicker of amusement vanished from his eyes.

"After hearing what happened, I did some research. The Gallaghers weren't just any werewolves. Their bloodline stretches back centuries. And somewhere along that bloodline, a ritual was performed, a curse, or perhaps an invocation. No one knows exactly who did it or why, but the result was undeniable: the Gallagher family inherited more than just lycanthropy. They carried within them a force, something dark, primal... and dangerous." He added and the room seemed to grow colder.

"This force, call it a curse, a spirit, or simply darkness, has been passed down through the generations. Normally, it remained contained, divided among siblings. The family never had just one child, which helped dilute its power. But when Sasha killed all three brothers, she didn't just take their lives. She absorbed what made them.. unique. And with no siblings to share that burden, the full force of that darkness now resides within her." Peter continued.

"What do you mean absorbed?" Isaac asked as he shifted uncomfortably.

"When a werewolf kills another of their kind, especially an Alpha, there's an exchange of power. Instinctual. Unavoidable. Sasha inherited the strength of the Gallaghers, their abilities, their instincts... and their darkness. But this force didn't manifest immediately. She was too young, too unprepared. Yet, there were signs even before the coma. Her wounds took longer to heal, her strength wavered. It was the darkness testing the limits of its new host." Peter replied, his gaze locking onto Isaac's.

"But why now? It's been months since she killed her former Alpha." Boyd questioned, swallowing hard.

"Because when she fell into coma, her mind was vulnerable. Her defenses were down. And the force, like a predator sensing weakness, seized its opportunity. It began to influence her, and that influence hasn't faded since she woke up." Peter resumed pacing, his hands gesturing lightly as he spoke.

"But she's still Sasha, right?" Stiles asked with a last hint of hope.

"For now. But let's not forget the trauma she's endured. Elena, her mother, died when she was a kid, then she also lost her twin brother and she was there, witnessing these two violent deaths... Pain leaves cracks in the soul. And darkness loves cracks. The more pain she feels, the more power that force gains. And trust me, it will use every ounce of grief, anger, and fear to tighten its grip." Peter said and tilted his head slightly.

"Is that why she broke up with Derek?" Cora frowned and Peter's eyes gleamed with something close to admiration, though his tone carried a weight that silenced the room further.

"A perceptive question. Yes, it's possible. Either Sasha couldn't control the force's influence, or some part of her, consciously or not, wanted to protect Derek by pushing him away. After all, if she loses control completely... the first people she loves will be the ones who suffer most." He told his niece.

Silence fell heavy and thick between them, the air dense with unspoken fears, until Stiles finally broke it.

"So, how do we stop it? How do we help her?" He asked, his voice tight.

Peter stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring the weight of what he was about to say.

"Now, that... is the million-dollar question. There might be a way, something akin to how Lydia brought Jackson back from the Kanima's control. Love, connection... something that can anchor Sasha to herself when the darkness tries to take hold. And considering her bond with Derek... well, that might be the key." He told them.

"But it won't be easy. I don't know the full extent of the Gallagher curse, or how deeply her trauma has strengthened this force. Even if Derek is the answer... there's no guarantee it will work. And if it fails... I think we may lose her entirely." Peter added as his voice dipped slightly, a thread of uncertainty woven through his words.

Sasha stood alone in her dimly lit kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. The faint light above the stove cast long shadows across the room as she sliced vegetables on a wooden cutting board. Her movements were slow, deliberate, yet her eyes betrayed her, wide with fear, trapped within her own body.

The knife moved suddenly, as if driven by an unseen force. The blade sliced deep into the flesh of her palm, crimson blood blooming instantly against pale skin. Her lips twisted into a smile, a laugh bubbling from her throat that wasn't hers. The sound was hollow, unsettling, echoing in the empty kitchen.

Her breath hitched as she tried to pull her hand away, but her fingers clutched the knife tighter. Something inside her reveled in the pain, feeding on her fear as she gasped silently within the depths of her mind. Tears burned behind her eyes as she whispered within, Stop... please, stop...

But she answered only with a cold, mocking chuckle.

Sasha dropped the knife and clutched a towel to her hand, stumbling backward until her hip struck the counter. Her pulse pounded in her ears, each beat like a drum of panic, but her lips, curved into that eerie smile, remained untouched by her terror. As blood seeped through the towel, a dark sense of satisfaction coiled within her chest.

Moving with mechanical grace, she turned off the stove and ascended the stairs. Blood had soaked into the sleeve of her sweater, dark stains blossoming against the pale fabric. In her bedroom, she stripped off the ruined garment and tossed it aside before stepping into the bathroom.

Cool water splashed over her hands as she rinsed away the blood. The sting of the wound sent a pulse of pain through her arm, but as the water swirled down the drain, the pain vanished. Lifting her hands from the sink, Sasha stared in disbelief. The cut was gone, no scar, no trace. It simply healed, way too fast.

Her breath caught, and her gaze lifted to the mirror. Pale skin. Wide eyes. But this time, something flickered within the reflection, something more.

I know you're still in there. It was Sasha's voice, yet distant, as though speaking from behind glass. You don't have to do this. I can fight you. I will fight you.

The reflection tilted its head slightly, eyes glinting with something cold and ancient. "Poor little Sasha..." She murmured with a mockery of sympathy. "Still clinging to hope. Still thinking you can win."

I will. Sasha screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth, and she kept staring at her reflection. Then, she leaned closer, her smile widening, hollow and predatory.

"I've tasted your fear... your sorrow... your rage. Every tear, every scream, it's all mine. And soon, you'll realize there's no escaping me." Sasha said with a wicked smile.

No. No. The young woman was trying to yell. Stiles, Scott, Isaac, everyone and especially Derek, they'll know that's not me.

"Ah Derek..." Sasha's smile twisted into something sharper, crueler. "He won't save you. If anything, he'll be the first to fall. Imagine it, his blood on your hands. The moment he'll look into your eyes and realize you're the one who destroyed him." She said.

I would never! She tried to yell again, her voice echoing through her mind like a faint whisper.

"You won't have a choice." Sasha coldly said. "Once you stop fighting me, you'll be unbeatable. Then, you'll tear little Derek apart, piece by piece. And the best part? You will enjoy it." she whispered, her breath frosting the mirror.

I won't let you touch him! I won't! Sasha tried to yell, again.

"But you already have." She replied, her smile widening. "Every moment you push him away, every time your heart aches because you can't be near him... that's me. I am the distance between you. I am the fear in his eyes. I am the darkness that will consume him... through you."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but Sasha couldn't wipe it away. Her body no longer answered her. She leaned closer, her breath leaving a trace against the cold glass.

Please... leave him alone. Take me. Just leave him alone...

The young woman chuckled softly, as if savoring her plea. "Oh, Sasha..." She whispered with mock affection. "But it's so much more delicious when you break together."

Her eyes glinted with a darkness that seemed to seep into the very air as she whispered the final words, each syllable curling through the room like a spell.

"Abandona te tenebris, Sasha."

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