fandomtownies | Our Lady of Fandom, Friday Afternoon

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$church

Our Lady of Fandom, Friday Afternoon

Samara had been having the time of her death in Fandom. Free to wander this island, pour her fear and anger directly into people's heads without waiting for a tape to get passed around, drive a horse insane (Though sadly not into the ocean. Yet.) and show up to torment her victims in person even before their seventh-day moment of death had arrived, she'd been as close to happy as a spirit composed entirely of misery, abandonment and rage could ever manage.

Until she'd tried to follow that woman. The one with the coffee-shop apron who'd made the mistake of spending her lunchbreak on Wednesday eating free popcorn, and spent the last three days picking centipedes out of the espresso beans and dreaming of burning trees. The one who Samara had hoped was heading for Galactica Point to throw herself off when she rushed out into the streets babbling about how there had to be a way to end this, but no. Instead, she had run to the church.

Where Samara -- rage as much as she liked, throw as much water at the doors as she could suck up from the nearby sea or down from the sky -- could not get in.

That localized thunderstorm over the graveyard? Pardon the psychic, psychotic, demon ghost eight-year-old. She's having a bit of a tantrum.

[OOC: Church is open for sanctuary or for anybody who needs to discover that it is sanctuary. Graveyard is open for any evil spirits who want a place to meet and plot.]

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Ghosts with any evil intent won't be able to enter, whether inside or outside a living body. The body can enter; it'll just bounce the ghost right out.

Look, Stiles wasn't exactly the most observant crayon in the box, but he knew when he was being followed, okay? Especially when he was being followed by a creeper like Peter.

He tried to be casual and pretend to not notice but he was positive Peter could hear his increasing heartbeat. After realizing playing cat and mouse wouldn't amuse Peter for long, Stiles took a turn towards the church, hoping maybe they scared off werewolves or the undead or something. Somehow.

Hey, sometimes it worked in movies.

[For Derek!]

Damn this Stiles for having all the experience with people creeping up on him! Damn him!

Peter slunk after him, curling a lip at the display of the annoying little ghost girl as he hunted his prey. Stiles wouldn't really get the choice about being bitten this time around.

Sorry not sorry.

"You can't run forever."

Stiles didn't bother to answer, wanting to save his energy for getting to the church. He started to run at full speed, tossing aside any attempt at playing it cool.

Wasn't he adorable?

Peter grinned, eyes going red as he took off after the boy close enough to amp up the smell of fear. If he growled a little, it was just because he was a complete and utter jackass.

Stiles managed to get to the church steps, almost falling flat on his face as he scrambled up them. He threw open the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Then he immediately tried to find something to bar the door with. Spoiler: He wouldn't find anything.

"Let's not be cliche," Peter drawled, tapping Derek's claws against the door before yanking it open and going in after Stiles.

But in this particular instance, there was something beyond a door keeping the big, bad wolf out as Derek suddenly stumbled in and onto his knees in surprise and Peter was forced to stay on the steps of the church.

Stiles turned abruptly at the noise of a werewolf falling to the ground. He reached for a Bible and held it up like he was going to throw it against Derek's head.

Hopefully it wouldn't count as a sin or something.

"You've got to be kidding me."

At least it wasn't the power of human love that kicked him out of the church?

"What--" Stiles looked between Derek and Peter. "What the hell?"

The movie idea actually worked?

The movie idea totally worked.

Derek turned to snarl at his uncle before shoving the door shut. Just in case that would keep ghosts out. Look, he was no good at logic, okay?

Only once that was done did he turn his attention onto Stiles to hug the hell out of him. Sudden moves were possibly a bad idea after their last interaction, but clingy Derek was clingy.

Stiles let the book fall out of his hand, momentarily tensing when Derek put his arms around him. But it was only just for a moment, soon he was putting his arms around Derek to hug him back.

He just hoped it wasn't a trick.

"How did you know that would work?" Derek asked, voice muffled because he wasn't pulling away from where his face was mashed against Stiles' neck.

"I didn't," he said, still breathing heavily from all the running. "I was just trying to get away."

Derek winced at that, pulling back to check him over despite knowing Peter hadn't touched him. He just needed to make sure. "Are you--?"

"I'm okay," he said with a nod. "I was just worried about you. Fuck, Derek, I had no idea what I was going to do to get you back."

That just forced Derek to lean forward for an earnest kiss, hands on gently on the sides of Stiles' face. "We have to stop doing this."

"Getting possessed? I agree," he said with a small smile. "At least this time it's not only you, seems the whole town is going weird."

"Not just a Beacon Hills thing," Derek replied before giving a weak little, "Yay."

"I was so scared," Stiles murmured. "I thought you were gone forever."

"I'm here," Derek promised, kissing him again.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. "I don't think you can leave here."

Derek looked around the place. It didn't really look like it was used all that much, to be perfectly honest.

"...think they deliver here?"

His sense of humor was awful.

Stiles huffed. "You're an idiot."

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Graveyard