Scott wasn't planning to call Stiles that Saturday morning. In fact, he wasn't planning to bother Stiles at all. He didn't want his best friend involved in this surreal, oddly supernatural and certainly dangerous situation he's in – even if it meant enduring everything on his own.
He couldn't help it, though. He just couldn't, because on his way home – after spending an entire full-moon night in the woods – he found himself in a situation he definitely couldn't handle without his best friend.
"Stiles. Stiles, listen, I—I found a girl. I think—I think she's dying and I don't know what to do," Scott stammers nervously through his phone, panicking at the sight in front of him. Her body – naked, half-starved and completely ravaged – is a truly terrifying thing to see, and yet he can't avert his eyes from it.
He's seen gruesome things before, but this – this is something completely different. This isn't a dead body; this is someone dying.
Stiles tells him to wait where he is and hangs up immediately afterwards, and Scott knows he's coming to his rescue, just as he always does. He tries to relax, to think about something else than the girl perishing in front of him, but he can't get her out of his mind – not when her faint, erratic heartbeat is echoing in his ears.
Scott wishes he had something to cover her with – like a shirt, something he didn't have time to put on last night, when he rushed out of his house to find and save Allison. Tracking her scent with his new-found sense of smell, he ended up in the middle of the woods, and he realized he'd been tricked when he saw her jacket hanging up from a tree branch.
Scott curses under his breath at nobody in particular – maybe just at Derek – and looks up expectantly at the road, hoping his best friend would show up soon.
He hears an engine from far away, and not even a minute later, a blue jeep parks nearby. Stiles, hasty as usual, leaps out of the vehicle and rushes towards Scott, almost tripping on his feet as he does.
The boy with the buzz-cut opens his mouth, ready to shower his best friend in questions, but he feels himself freeze in place as his caramel eyes spot a girl – bloody, completely unconscious and sprawled by the roadside. Arrows stick out of her body – one through her leg, another one through her abdomen – and the gore smeared on her skin makes his stomach turn.
"I, uh…" Stiles tries to speak, his voice shaking, "I—I'll just call my dad. He'll know what to do." He pulls out his phone and starts dialing the number with trembling fingers when suddenly, a tight grip on his wrist stops him.
"Wait," Scott says, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving the girl. Stiles looks up at him, confused. "It's just… I—I don't think she'll make it if we wait for your dad…"
Stiles sucks in his lips, pacing back and forth as he considers all the options. He can't take this lightly – there's a life on their hands now, and he knows they're losing it with each passing second. "A—alright, uh…" Stiles finally speaks, and starts undoing his tie, "Let's take her to the hospital."
Scott gives him a nod and kneels beside her, grabbing the arrow on her stomach, ready to pull it out.
"No, no, no—don't!" Stiles yells and Scott immediately releases his grip on the arrow, completely startled. "She'll bleed if you take that out. A lot. And I don't think she needs to lose anymore blood," Stiles explains as he unbuttons his shirt and pulls it over her, covering her from the neck to her thighs. "Just… just let the doctors take care of that stuff, alright?"
"…O—okay," Scott nods once again. He carefully lifts her up in his arms, a cold shiver running down his spine as her gelid skin makes contact with his warmth.
As Stiles hops in the jeep and starts the engine, Scott lays her on the backseat, slowly as to not hurt her even more than she already is. Then, he sits right next to Stiles, and the nightmarish journey to the hospital finally begins.
"Brought you a shirt by the way," Stiles casually mentions as he drives, tossing a random, gray shirt to his half-naked friend, who mumbles a quiet 'thanks' and quickly slides it on.
Scott doesn't speak much; he just stares at the moving landscape through the window with an absentminded look on his face, and though Stiles knows there's a lot going in his head, the heavy atmosphere inside the vehicle is driving him crazy.
He's about to speak, to break the crushing silence between them, when a mutter suddenly escapes Scott's mouth—"…I think I know what happened to her."
Stiles shoots him a curious look. "Yeah…?" he asks, eyebrows high on his forehead.
"Last night, when I was looking for Allison in the woods, some guys showed up out of nowhere and tried to kill me," Scott explains, "one of them even shot me with a crossbow." The arrows on the girl's body suddenly start to make sense, and a conjecture starts to form in Stiles' ever so bright mind. "Derek said they were 'hunters' or something…"
"Wait—Derek?" Stiles asks, "Derek was there?"
"Yeah," Scott nods. "He saved me." He can't exactly say he's grateful, though – after all, it's Derek's fault he almost got killed in the first place.
Stiles remains silent for a moment, sorting the facts out in his head. "So…" Stiles mutters. "You think she's… you know…" he trails off, but then finally dares to ask the so dreaded question: "You think she's like you?" Scott jerks his head at his friend, eyes wide as plates at the realization that she might, in fact, be like him – a werewolf. "She must be something…" Stiles thinks out loud, glancing at the girl through the rearview mirror, "I mean—she's got two freakin' arrows sticking out of her. That's… that's gotta mean something, right?"
"…Maybe it was an accident," Scott hesitates, and Stiles can't help but scoff.
"So, basically she went for a walk in the woods, with absolutely no clothes on, and got shot by accident," Stiles says, an obvious hint of sarcasm in his voice, "…Yeah, that sounds about right."
Stiles has a point – a really valid one at that – and anxiety starts to boil up inside of Scott as he realizes the one dying today could easily have been him. Frustrated, he leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he tugs on his dark, sweaty hair. Obviously, this doesn't pass unnoticed by the boy driving next to him.
"Hey—hey Scott," Stiles says, but the other boy doesn't even look up. "Everything's gonna be just fine," he tries to reassure him, "trust me." Scott finally sighs and leans back to the seat, whispering a breathy 'okay' that makes a hearty grin spread across Stiles' lips.
"…Thanks for everything," Scott says, giving the other boy a weak smile, "I'm sorry I dragged you into all this…"
A scoff escapes Stiles' mouth. "That's what best friends are for," he says. "Besides, I was planning to come and pick you up anyway," he admits, and Scott's smile grows wider.
Silence starts to build around them again, and the girl's choked breaths make Stiles anxious. "So, uh…" He assumes talking about something would ease the air – or perhaps he just wants to forget about the fact that someone is dying right behind him – so, without thinking much, he utters the very first thing that crosses his mind: "Wh—what about Allison?"
And with that, Scott's smile vanishes away. "I don't know…" he groans, recalling that he left her stranded at the party. "She probably hates me now…"
"Well, she did seem kind of pissed off yesterday when I checked on her—" Stiles says, but stops himself when he sees his best friend's expression sinking even further. "…I—I doubt she hates you," he says, "but you might wanna come up with a pretty amazing apology… Or, you know, you could just… tell her the truth, and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a freakin' werewolf." Scott shoots him a perplexed look, and Stiles pushes his lower lip forward, considering what he just said. "Okay, okay, bad idea," he admits nervously, "it's just—I just can't think clearly when there's a naked girl bleeding herself to death on my jeep, okay?"
Scott suddenly hears movement behind him and turns around to see the girl – shifting a bit, slowly waking up. "Dude…" he mumbles, flabbergasted. "Dude, she's waking up!" he yells, making Stiles jump and tighten his grip on the wheel.
Stiles can't see much other than a few quick glimpses through the reflection of the rearview mirror, while Scott, on the other hand, has his eyes nailed on her, watching her as her eyelashes slowly flutter open, revealing a pair of enticing, aqua green orbs.
With heavy eyelids, she looks around, moving absolutely nothing but her bloodshot eyeballs – that is, until she suddenly grows aware of Scott, and immediately jolts. Her heart is racing a mile a minute, threatening to burst out from her chest, but Scott doesn't need to hear it to know how scared she is. She seems horrified, face twisted in panic and tears about to spill.
Scott opens his mouth to tell her that they won't hurt her, that she's safe, that everything's going to be okay – but her teary eyes suddenly flash a menacing shade of blue, and all air leaves his lungs.
She winces, teeth – or rather, fangs – gritted as she struggles to lean on her elbows, muscles trembling in pain. Tears of frustration slide down her cheeks as she feels just as though she were caught in a nightmare – the kind of nightmare where she can't bring herself to run despite how much she wants to.
Finally, defeated by exhaustion, her eyes roll back into her skull and she collapses on the seat, falling in deep slumber once again.
"So… did she wake up, or…?" Stiles asks with curiosity, oblivious as to what just happened. "Scott?" When he receives no answer, he gives his friend a quick glance and notices the astounded expression on his features. "Scott, you alright?"
"…You were right," Scott mutters, still in shock. "She is something."
The moment they stepped a foot on the hospital, every single head swiveled around to stare at them. They couldn't really blame them; after all, it wasn't everyday that two boys – one of them shirtless, the other one wearing a shirt smudged in scarlet – showed up with a bleeding, unconscious girl.
She was taken away on a stretcher to the emergency room, doctors and nurses surrounding her as her blood rapidly turned the white sheets red.
That was the last time Scott and Stiles saw her – and it's been two days since then.
Stiles suggested checking on her – "do you have any idea how many werewolf things you could ask her about?" he said, convincing him right away – and now there they are, sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hospital's waiting room.
Scott's been worried the last few days – worried that the girl they saved would turn out to be a murderous ticking bomb – but he feels a weight lift off his shoulders when he spots his mother in the distance, heading towards them at a fast pace. They rise up when the curly-haired woman finally stands in front of them.
"You guys want to know how she's doing, don't you?" Melissa asks, and both boys nod eagerly. "Well, I've got good news for you," she announces with a smile, "She was discharged yesterday."
Stiles' jaw drops in shock. "What—when?"
"Sunday morning. Or was it afternoon…?" Melissa hesitates, "…No, it was definitely Sunday morning."
"But… but how?" Stiles asks in disbelief. "She was dead when we found her," he exclaims, and Melissa arches her eyebrows at him. "Well, I mean—not dead dead but she did look pretty bad…"
"Well, I didn't get to see her but the doctor that took care of her said she healed pretty fast… really fast," she remarks, recalling hearing that the girl's wounds mended entirely in just a single day; a true medical miracle nobody seems to understand – except for maybe Scott. "Anyway, she wouldn't have survived had it not been for you guys," she smiles at them, proud – but then frowns in confusion at noticing that neither of the boys seems particularly happy. "…Something wrong, you two?"
Stiles blinks, mouth still hanging open. "Alright, just, let me get this straight. This girl's wounds magically heal in one day and they just let her go? Without even doing some tests?" he asks, incredulous. "What if—what if her blood is some sort of… cure-for-everything elixir or something? Did nobody consider that possibility?"
"Believe me; I'm just as curious as you are… My job would be a lot easier if everyone got better as fast as she did," Melissa says, almost comically, "but miraculous healing aside, I think she should've stayed a few days more… you know, just in case. Her guardian seemed to be in a hurry to get her out of here, though…"
"Her guardian?" Stiles asks with a bad hunch. "What about her parents?"
"Honestly, I've got no idea…" Melissa replies, "I heard they tried asking her but she wouldn't say anything. I'm pretty sure she was still in shock… from whatever had happened to her." Then adds, "Maybe you should ask your dad… I mean, wasn't he in charge of the investigation?"
Stiles shrugs in response. "Yeah, well—he won't tell me anything so I've got to do research on my own," he says, simply and honestly. That doesn't mean he's clueless as to what's going on, though. Being the sheriff's son has its perks for someone as hungrily curious as Stiles, and from what he's managed to gather from his father's notes and supposedly private phone conversations, it seems this girl is somehow connected to a recent murder that took place somewhere in Beacon County. "So, this guy, her guardian…" Stiles says inquiringly, "What was he like?"
Melissa presses her lips in a thin line, trying to recall the man's appearance. "Um, let's see… tall, dark hair… I think he had green eyes, too…" she describes as best her memory allows her to, "and from what I've heard he seemed to be in a pretty bad mood, so no one really tried to convince him to let her stay."
Scott and Stiles immediately exchange looks, almost as if they could read each other's mind.
"Maybe it wasn't Derek," Scott says, trying his best to believe his own words, "I—I mean, there's a lot of people in Beacon Hills. It could've been anyone… right?" Stiles doesn't seem convinced, though.
"Dark hair, green eyes, bad mood—I don't know Scott, that sounds like a pretty accurate description of Derek," Stiles argues, "Especially the bad mood part." Scott doesn't even try to object; deep down he knows his best friend is right – just like he was with his hunch about him being a werewolf. "You said that Derek was a werewolf, right?"
"Yeah…" Scott nods, his brown eyes downcast on the sidewalk, "I think he's the one who bit me."
"Well, if this girl's a werewolf too, then chances are she's got something to do with Derek," Stiles relates. "Or maybe…" he trails off, bits of information falling together as puzzle pieces inside his head. "Maybe he turned her, too…" he speculates, "Maybe she's new at this like you, and… well… those hunters you told me about got her instead of you." Scott swallows hard. "B—But hey, she didn't die!" he grins awkwardly, "So I wouldn't worry about her trying to hurt you or anything. I mean, she kind of owes us her life."
"Yeah… I guess that's a good thing…" Scott says tiredly, "It's not like I need more enemies…"
"Yeah," Stiles agrees, "you seriously could use an ally or something. I mean, you have me, that's a lot, but a supernatural friend sounds like a good idea… especially when there's a bunch of people trying to kill you." Scott looks up at him, a frown across his features. "And Derek…" Stiles continues, "Yeah, I'd worry about him, too. The guy's really scary, and—" he suddenly cuts himself off when he notices the uneasy look his friend is giving him. "Ok, I'll stop," he says, "…You gotta admit I'm right, though."
Scott sighs. "I'm getting tired of all this stuff…"
"But it's only been, like, three days," Stiles points out, earning himself a glare from the brunette walking next to him. "Alright, alright; I'm just joking," he tells him, "but you've got to accept this entire situation sooner or later. You're—"
"A werewolf. Yes, I know that," Scott cuts him off, words coming out a little bit harsher than intended. "It's just…" he mumbles, his expression falling, "I don't know if I can handle this."
"Hey," Stiles slaps a hand on the other boy's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. "We'll get through this, alright?" Scott doesn't say anything; he wants to believe his best friend, he really does, but he can't help but feel this is only the beginning of a dangerous spiral of events. "We'll just deal with Derek, and the hunters, and whatever else we have to deal with, okay?" Stiles reassures him, "And this girl we saved… hey, maybe she'll return us the favor someday."
"That'd be great," Scott chuckles lightly.