At Wickery Bridge
The rain came down in relentless sheets, turning the road slick and blurring the glow of the headlights. The Gilbert family car sped along the narrow curve of Wickery Bridge, wipers thrashing back and forth in a losing battle against the storm.
"Mom, maybe we should pull over," Elena said from the back seat, gripping her seatbelt a little tighter. "It's getting worse."
Miranda Gilbert offered a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror. "We're almost home, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes."
Grayson Gilbert's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Road's slick, just hang on, we're almost home."
A flash of lightning cracked across the sky. For a moment, everything was illuminated: the bridge, the rain, the swirling fog ahead. And then.
A shadow darted across the road, and Grayson swerved; the tires screeched.
The car broke through the guardrail with a thunderous crash, the world spinning in a blur of headlights and screams before cold water swallowed everything whole.
The car sank fast, bubbles roaring past the windows. Elena struggled against her seatbelt, panic rising in her chest.
"Mom! Dad!" she tried to scream, but her voice was muffled by the water
The water was everywhere, icy, merciless. Her lungs burned, her voice turned to silence beneath the surface.
And then a strong and steady hand reached through the darkness, pulling her out of the shattered window. Elena gasped as she broke through the surface, rain pelting her face, her rescuer dragging her toward the riverbank.
"You're okay," he said, his voice deep but urgent. "You're safe," he said quickly. 'Who... who is he?'
She blinked, coughing water, but before she could speak, he was gone, back beneath the river.
Stefan Salvatore fought the current, diving for the submerged car, but by the time he reached it, it was too late. Grayson and Miranda were still, their hands entwined even in death. He surfaced again and sped away, leaving the orphan alone to deal with the death of her parents.
.....
The Gilbert House, 5 Weeks Later
The house felt so big now and quiet. Every photo on the wall was just a reminder of what they'd lost.
Elena sat at the kitchen table, staring into a mug of untouched tea. Across from her, Jeremy fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, eyes red from crying but pretending not to be.
"Aunt Jenna's making pancakes," he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
Elena nodded faintly. "Yeah... Mom used to burn them every time."
A weak laugh escaped both of them before silence returned, heavy and uncomfortable.
Jenna Sommers, still in her twenties and suddenly a guardian to two grieving teenagers, tried to keep her voice light as she flipped a pancake on the stove.
"They're... edible this time, I think," she said over her shoulder. Elena forced a small smile. "Mom would be impressed."
Jenna looked at her niece, at the haunted look behind her smile, and swallowed hard. "We're gonna be okay, you know that?"
"Yeah," Elena said softly, tracing her finger around the rim of her cup.
"Eventually."
'Except I don't know what "okay" even means anymore.'
Jeremy pushed back his chair, frustration flaring in his eyes. "Everyone keeps saying that. 'You'll be fine.' 'You'll get through it.' But they don't know what it's like."
"Jeremy..." Elena tried to stop him, but he spoke over her
"They're gone!" he shouted, voice breaking. "And nothing's ever gonna be fine again!"
He stormed down the hall, his bedroom door slamming shut a second later.
Elena stood frozen, tears threatening to fall again. Jenna turned off the stove and crossed over, placing a trembling hand on her shoulder.
"He just needs time," she said quietly. Elena nodded, though her voice was hollow. "Don't we all?"
That night, as rain tapped against the windowpanes again, Elena lay awake, staring at the ceiling. 'If that person hadn't been there... I'd be with them now.'
She turned toward the window, the moonlight reflecting off the photo of her parents on her nightstand.
'Who was he? And why do I feel like I've seen those eyes before?'
But before she could go deeper into that, she went to sleep, preparing for a new day and school.
.....
That same night, Sunday, Beacon Falls Preserve
Several police cruisers full of BFPD police officers and some detectives pull into the Beacon Falls Preserve. The officers, accompanied by their cadaver dogs and holding flashlights, begin to search the area for the other half of the body.
"Stay tight. If the dogs catch anything, call it in right away." Chief Stilinski said to one of his officers
"You think that the killer of the girl is still out there?" Officer Reynolds said to Chief Stilinski, "Let's hope not." Chief Stilinski said back to Reynolds
The dogs bark in short bursts, their noses low to the ground as the search pushes deeper into the forest.
Over at the McCall House, Scott McCall is sitting on his bed while he re'strings the net on his lacrosse stick. Once he's finished, he does pull-ups from a bar on the lintel to his bathroom, and then heads inside the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.
However, he's quickly startled by a noise outside and freezes before grabbing a baseball bat and heading out to the wraparound porch to investigate.
Scott crept along the porch, bat held high. 'Okay, this is it. It's either a terrifying animal or a really big, aggressive squirrel. Please be the squirrel.'
Stiles suddenly dropped down from above, landing with a clumsy thud right in front of him.
"AHH! AHHH! AHHHH!!" simultaneously Scott and Stiles shrieked, with Scott stumbling back, nearly hitting himself with the bat.
"JESUS CHRIST, SCOTT! WHAT THE HELL?!" Stiles yelled, clutching his chest and stumbling in the opposite direction.
Scott took a second to process the figure in front of him: lanky, messy-haired, wearing his ridiculous hoodie. 'Not a mountain lion, worse, it's Stiles.' He lowered the bat, glaring. "Stiles, WHAT the hell are you doing?!"
Stiles, still breathing heavily, threw his hands up. " You weren't answering your phone! What are YOU!!! Why do you have a bat?! Is this about the 'incident'? Because I already said I was sorry!"
Scott threw his head back with an exasperated groan. "No, and you said you would never mention that again. I was doing something and my phone was out of reach, and where I could hear it, I thought you were a predator, you idiot!"
Stiles leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a loud whisper. "A predator? Like, a real one? You actually thought something dangerous was out here?"
"Yeah! What else would make a sound like that at ten o'clock at night?" Scott retorted. Stiles straightened up, all traces of the scare gone, replaced by a frantic energy.
"Okay, okay, calm down, Babe Ruth. Listen up. I'm not here to critique your choice of home security system. I'm here because of my dad." He paused for dramatic effect.
"Your dad? Is he trying to buy a new surveillance system or something?" Scott asked, lowering the bat completely, though he kept a grip on the handle. Stiles snapped his fingers in front of Scott's face. "No! Pay attention! My dad, the
Chief of Police, and most of the BFPD are out in the Preserve right now!" He gestured wildly toward the woods.
"Right now? Why?" Scott blinked, instantly worried.
Stiles's eyes went wide. "They're looking for a BODY, Scott! A real dead body! Or, you know, the other half of one!" He lowered his voice again, though it still filled with excitement and morbid curiosity.
"Some jogger found the first half! We HAVE to go see this! Think about it, actual human remains! This is the most exciting thing to happen in Beacon Falls since."
Scott's face paled. "Wait, half of a body? 'Oh my God. This is serious stiles." 'Why does Stiles find this exciting?'
"YES! I know it is, but think if we found the other half, we would be heroes." Stiles exclaimed, practically bouncing on the porch railing. "It's a mystery, dude! A real-life, gory mystery! Come on!" He started scrambling down the railing, eager to get moving.
"Are you coming or not?!"
Scott just stared, frozen by the sheer horror and morbid thrill of the news. "Wait, what?"
"I SAID," Stiles hissed, looking back with an intense stare. "WE'RE GOING TO THE WOODS TO FIND A DEAD BODY! RIGHT NOW!!!" After he said that, he went to his old jeep with Scott following behind him
.....
The boys park Stiles' Jeep at the entrance of the preserve, which has been closed since sundown.
"I don't get why we couldn't wait until morning," Scott grumbled, swinging the wooden bat he'd carried from home. Stiles, already halfway through the 'Do Not Enter' tape, flashed a manic grin.
"Morning? Scott, the cops will have vacuumed up every speck of evidence by dawn! This is a limited-time offer! The world just handed us a real-life murder mystery, and you're worried about beauty sleep.'"
"I need sleep! Tryouts are tomorrow!" Scott countered, pulling his dark red hoodie up as they entered the tree line. "I need to make the first line." Stiles scoffed, expertly navigating a root with an unnecessary parkour move.
"First line? Scott, you and I are bench-warmers. We are the bench. If you rest, you might be slightly less winded when you don't play."
"Hey! This is my season! I'm making it," Scott insisted, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Pathetically unrealistic," Stiles muttered affectionately. They started up a steep incline. Scott lagged almost immediately, breath catching in his throat.
"Wait... wait up!" Scott gasped, leaning against a tree. Stiles stopped, turning back easily. "Dude, seriously? We've gone, like, fifty feet." Scott pulled out his inhaler, shaking it furiously. "I'm a... severe asthmatic, Stiles.
You should have let me carry the flashlight. Less exertion." He took a deep, wheezing hit.
"Right, less exertion," Stiles joked. "Says the guy who does pull-ups on his bathroom lintel. 'I bet he just wanted to feel tough carrying a bat in the woods.'"
Scott ignored him and finished his puff.
At the top of the ridge, Stiles let out a sudden, excited yelp. "Bingo! Look!" Scott followed his gaze. Flashlights cut through the dark, illuminating a tight cluster of uniforms and the silhouettes of dogs. "Oh my God, they're right there."
Stiles's excitement became a rush. "Yes! Perfect! Come on! We must be close, the cops are near their" He took off instantly, a blur of enthusiastic idiocy.
"Stiles! Wait!" Scott called, but his voice was choked by a sudden tightness in his chest. He pulled his inhaler for a necessary second hit, watching Stiles disappear.
Stiles intended to skirt the search perimeter but, blinded by his flashlight, ran smack into a Deputy. "Aah!" Stiles yelled.
"Hey! Freeze! Police!" Sergeant Parrish barked, grabbing Stiles' arm as his cadaver dog, a muscular German Shepherd, began barking and lunging frantically. "Sergeant, what did I just say about contaminating the scene?!"
"DAD!" Stiles shouted back in surprise.
Chief Stilinski's flashlight beam hit his son's face like a spotlight. He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh, for the love of—Stiles! What in God's name are you doing here?! Were you listening to my phone again?"
"No! I... I was just... out," Stiles stammered, pulling a bad expression. "Out, right... And your usual partner-in-crime, Scott? He's 'out' too?" Chief Stilinski's voice was laced with pure annoyance.
"Scott? Nah. He stayed home," Stiles lied smoothly, shrugging slightly. "He's prepping for the first day of back to school. Getting his study guides in order. You know Scott. It's just me... In the woods... Alone..."
The Chief glared, clearly unconvinced. He raised his very bright flashlight and swept the beam across the trees behind Stiles. "Scott! You out there?! I'm not playing around!"
Scott, hunched down behind a wide maple several yards away, held his breath, burying his face in his jacket. 'Do NOT make a sound. Do NOT breathe. He can't see me. He can't see me.'
After a beat of silence, Chief Stilinski sighed, the exasperation winning out. "Fine, whatever, I'll pretend I believe that pathetic attempt at a cover story." He grabbed the back of Stiles' neck.
"You are coming with me. Now. I'm taking you home. You have school tomorrow, and I have a murder investigation to get to."
Chief Stilinski led Stiles away toward the main road. Scott, finally breathing, pulled the hood of his dark red hoodie up to shadow his face and moved in the opposite direction, intent on getting home unseen.
He was moving quickly when a movement ahead, a shadowy, unidentifiable figure, stopped him instantly. His heart hammered. He grabbed the inhaler that was now uselessly empty. 'Empty. Dammit! That was my last one,' he thought in disappointment.
A sudden roar of movement. A frantic, loud thundering noise. A herd of deer, panicked by the search and the shadow figure, stampeded wildly across the clearing, eyes wide, all rushing forward like a stampede.
"Aaaah," Scott let out a cry of panic, dropping low and covering his head. The impact of hooves and bodies barely missed him, but his inhaler was knocked from his hand and sent flying.
He waited, trembling, until the chaotic noise receded.
Scrambling to his feet, "Oh, come on, where is it?" he pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight app to sweep the forest floor. He got on his knees, his hand digging through the dry, matted leaves looking for his inhaler. Instead of the smooth plastic of his inhaler, his fingers touched something long and cold.
He looked down, his phone light illuminating a terrifying sight: a long, pale-white object tangled in the roots and leaves. It was the second half of the young woman. Brunette hair, matted with dirt.
Her eyes, wide and staring, were frozen in a final expression of terror. Her body had been bisected at the waist, her dark entrails scattered haphazardly among the debris.
Scott gasped, a choked, horrified sound. The image burned into his mind. He scrambled back in terror, stumbled on a root, and fell backward, tumbling down the steep embankment he and Stiles had just climbed.
He landed hard at the bottom, "Aaaah, fuck that hurt, let's hope nothing's broken, uuggaa," he said aloud to no one but himself self then let out a groan and was disoriented.
He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, fighting the sudden nausea. When he stood, he heard it: a low, primal growl right behind him.
Scott spun around. Standing on all fours in the line of trees, just a few yards away, was a large, bestial, wolf-like creature. Its eyes glowed with an impossible, malevolent red.
Scott froze, his mind paralyzed by the sight. He couldn't scream, couldn't think, and he couldn't move.
The creature didn't hesitate. It lunged at him with the full intent to attack him.
It struck Scott full-on, knocking him face down onto the cold earth. Desperate, Scott tried to crawl away, scrabbling with his hands.
The beast latched onto his side, just above his hipbone. Scott screamed, a sound of pure agony, as he felt the intense pressure and ripping pain of teeth tearing into his flesh. He rolled violently, twisting free.
He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline overriding the pain, and ran. He ran blindly toward the sound of the distant road as a sudden, torrential downpour of rain began, soaking him instantly.
He burst out of the woods and onto the asphalt, right in the path of a burgundy SUV. The driver slammed on the brakes; tires shrieked and skidded on the wet road, stopping inches from Scott.
Scott didn't stop to look back. He leaned against a guardrail, gasping, the rain washing over his face and through his dark red hoodie. Overwhelmed, he lifted the hem of the thick material.
Illuminated by the flash of distant streetlights, right above his hipbone, was a large, ragged, bleeding bite wound. The pouring rain mixed with the blood on his side. In the distance, cutting through the deluge, a wolf howled.
That same night, a 16-year-old looking young man with glossy black hair was meticulously kept in a neat Caesar Cut, standing at an imposing 6'3". His bright, electric blue eyes were practically glowing in the faint moonlight.
He was looking at the "monster" walking back into the woods, heading towards the hospital, and Scott, who was walking back home with the bite wound already healing slowly but still healing without him knowing.
He was dressed in a black t-shirt with a black. His black martial arts-style pants, accented with a subtle gold lining, shimmered slightly in the slivers of moonlight that managed to pierce through the trees; his footwear was a gleaming pair of Jordan MVP Black Metallic Gold shoes.
He had a small knowing smile, but turned around, getting ready for his new day at his new school, hoping to see his friends again, and hoping his mom did not find out he went out this late, or he was so fucked so bad it's not even funny.
And with that, everything kicked off from here.
A/N: So how was it? Leave some comments and power stones. I tried my best to fuse the worlds, and I did think about starting from childhood, but then I couldn't find a way to make the next chapter, so I just thought of using the plots of the OG's and then adding in my own touch/history.