Hey everyone! Sorry I left you hanging.
My Bad. Wont Happen Again.
I'm working on the next chapter right now!
How about last night's episode huh? Hoo pretty heavy stuff!
*SPOILER ALERT* (Stiles and Lydia kissed! *Dies of feels*)
Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and for the reviews! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!
After a rather awkward silence Dr. Deaton rose. "I think we will be needing more tea." he mused and disappeared into his office. After another long minute, Isaac sniggered.
"Renu?" he snorted "That sounds like girls' shampoo."
"It's no laughing matter, Isaac." Derek boomed, rubbing the nape of his neck.
"Okay, sorry." said Isaac, subconsciously copying the motion.
"So . . . who is she?" asked Scott, jabbing his thumb towards the closed door.
"Her name is Five, she's a shape-shifter like us." Derek sighed, taking a seat on one of the flimsy chairs.
"But she's a cat." Scott remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait - she's a cat?" asked Isaac confusedly, attempting to inconspicuously peek through the slim window on the door.
"Yes, she's a cat." Derek huffed, his patience dwindling.
"But you said she was a were-wolf."
"I said she was a shape-shifter, Isaac." shot Derek exasperated. "Obviously there is more then one shape to shift into."
"Please, gentleman." hushed Dr. Deaton, returning with a tray of mismatched mugs. "Let's not wake her with raised angry voices."
"Hey, Doc?" started Scott, taking a steaming cup.
"Yes, Scott?" he replied offering a cup to Derek, who refused.
"Could I call my mom? She might be able to help her, right?"
"An excellent idea, Scott. She may also be able to bring some painkillers as this particular type of injury will take a while to heal."
"Wait what?" interjected Stiles, seemingly coming out of a far off thought. "Doc, what do you mean? What do you mean it will take a while to heal? Like a day?
"No."
"... what do you mean 'No'? What does that mean? Wonderwolf over there would take like 2 hours to humpty dumpty magic themselves back from this. She's like the same, right? Right, Doc?" his voice broke, he spoke animatedly, his hands flailing "A couple hours? A day tops? Stop shaking your head! She's fine! I just watched her start healing myself! I HAD TO HOLD HER DOWN WHILE YOU UNHEALED HER DON'T TELL ME-STOP SHAKING YOUR HEAD! DOC!"
"I'm sorry, Stiles." he said coolly "She will need a great amount of attention. Her stitches will have to be changed twice a day so her skin doesn't heal over them. She will be in constant agony from her wounds, fever, hunger and the physio-emotional damage from having her blood shed by kin." he sat against the counter top. "Oh yes, it will take her a very long time to heal."
"Okay, like how long Doc?" Stiles urged, aggravated.
"Well, it's difficult to say." the Doctor turned calmly to face him, sensing hostility. "I should venture to guess that her fever will go away by the end of tomorrow, and she should be able to start to walk by the end of the week. However, the agony she feels could leave her weakened for several months, it may even never go away."
An invisible weight seemed to drag hang over the waiting room. No one moved.
"Never?" croaked Derek.
"It is a possibility. A very large possibility. One we should prepare for." said the Doc.
"Is there nothing we can do?" Scott stepped forward, looking crestfallen.
"No, Scott. I'm afraid this is an 'only time will tell' situation." Dr. Deaton said quietly
Derek rubbed his eyes, exhausted, but Stiles seemed to have more energy then ever.
"So, so what? That's it? Are we just go to sit here a-a-and sign her off? Are we all satisfied that that will be her life?" he roared.
"Stiles-" began Scott, his raising his hand as if to console.
"No!" Stiles jerked away from him, "No, thats not enough!"
There was a loud bang and the sound of breaking glass.
"Derek!" Five wailed. Derek was up, over the counter and opening the door before most of the party had realized the source of the noise, with Stiles hot on his heels.
Five was on her side, gipping the edge of the operating table. Her eyes flickered wildly around, disoriented in the bright light. "Derek!" she screamed again, unable to see him. Derek skidded on his knees next to the table, bringing his face close to hers, gripping her hand in his.
"I'm right here, I'm right here." he soothed. Her hand tightened on his until her knuckles were white. She seemed temporarily blind in the bright room, she blinked trying to find him.
"He's coming, Derek! He's coming!" her lip quivered. "He's coming. Derek, I'm so so sorry, he's coming. He's coming." she whispered.
"I know, I know, it's alright. It's going to alright. You're safe now." he smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.
"No, no." she hissed, and she started to cry. "Derek, no. You don't understand. He is not coming for me." she pulled him in close, her hand in his shirt like she had done with Scott, "He knows it was you," she rasped "he knows. Derek." Tears streamed down Five's face, she placed her hand on his cheek. "It's my fault."
"How?"
"You are the last Hale." she smiled weakly. "How else could I leave if it was not you?"
"It is not your fault." Derek whispered. Everyone stood on the outskirts of the room, giving them as much space as possible. Stiles watched anxiously, chewing on the neck of his shirt. Scott was texting his mom, asking her to come as soon as she could. Isaac switched back and forth from total unblinking stares, to looking everywhere but the girl. Whether his behavior was from the wounds, the blood, or the lack of clothing was unclear. Dr. Deaton was wiping his surgical equipment clean, unimpressed with the situation, but eavesdropping.
"It is." she whispered "It. Is." She gasped convulsively, her head jerked to the side. When her face was visible again her eyes burned a bright glowing green, her nostrils flared, and when she spoke, it sounded as if many voices were whispering out of the corners of the room. She stared at nothing, lost, her face and body twitching like a clockwork toy. Dr. Deaton flung his arm out, instinctively shielding the teenagers against the wall. The lights flickered and whistling sound of speeding wind rattled the windows in the eerie room.
"I am always hungry." she breathed. Derek stood still, as if frozen by her words. "I must always be fed. The finger I touch, will soon turn red."
"Derek! Get back!" called Dr. Deaton. Isaac had wolfed out, Scott held him back. Stiles waited for someone to tell him to do something, tense and wide eyed. Five continued, her breathing ragged and uneven.
"The creature that howls at the midnight sky, lost and gone in innocent cries. Not by blood, he died in me. I took him again, but he still lives free. Silver touches left him bare, but I will find my treasure there."
She shuddered, her grip lessened on Derek's shirt, her arm went limp and fell against the cool table. She was unconscious. Her breathing became rapid. She twitched and huffed.
"Boys, out." Dr. Deaton commanded. He ushered them towards the door. "Scott is your mom coming?"
"She says she's on her way now." Scott stammered, trying to get a good look at the girl over the Doc's shoulder.
"Great, please wait here for her. Do not leave the premises. Isaac, Stiles, out. Now. Derek, you too." Derek, however seemed unable to move. Rooted to the spot by Five. With a surprising amount of strength, Dr. Deaton took his arm, hauled him to his feet and steered Derek out the door.
"Doc, I-"
"Now Stiles. Wait in the lobby if you must but leave the room." with a small shove he pushed Stiles out the door and closed it with a sharp snap. They all stood in shocked silence for a moment.
"What was that?" cried Isaac, throwing his arms in the air.
"A prophecy."
Everyone wheeled around. Unnoticed by them, Peter Hale had joined the fray, sitting in a chair, at ease with the world. Sitting across from him, looking the opposite of at ease, was Cora, Lydia and Allison.
"What are you doing here?" asked Scott. Lydia, who looked a little shell shocked, raised her hand.
"I was um, going home, and driving Allison home and we ended up here." she murmured. "Is there... Oh God, is there a body in there?" her voice broke. Allison put her arm around Lydia protectively. "There is, isn't there? Stiles, whose blood is that? Is it someone we know? Why - why are you all here already?"
"No, no it's not someone we know." said Stiles.
"Well." said Peter, with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not all of us." That seemed to snap Derek out of his trance. They all looked at Derek.
"Why are you here?" Derek asked, glaring at Peter.
"I was merely passing. Caught a scent. How could I resist?" Instead of smug, which was obviously the face her was going for, Peter seemed hollow as if cold air was settling in his chest. "So, what mad adventure are we going on this time, nephew? What deadly, time consuming, last hurrah has your little kitten brought down on us?" he taunted "What riddle has she spouted so to tempt your fancies - that will lead us to nowhere where she will undoubtedly betrays us, again?" Peter looked up at the ceiling, his clenched jaw the only sign of his anger.
"She won't betray us." Derek said hoarsely.
"Oh no? Forgive me, but the odds are not with you." Peter drawled, still looking at the ceiling.
"You know that wasn't her fault." Peter leapt to his feet and was in Derek's face before anyone could react.
"Yes! Yes it was!" Peter bellowed.
"Peter!" shouted Cora
"My sister! Your mother! Everyone is dead! Because of her!" Peter roared. No one had ever seen Peter lose control before. A frightening picture, it was suddenly apparent how strong and Alpha-like he was. Derek held his ground, everyone stood tensely by, ready to break up the fight.
"Peter," cautioned Allison, "your family's death was Kate Argent's fault. Remember?" her soothing tone starting to taint with aggression "She got the information from Mr. Myers and Mr. Harris? You came out of a coma to kill them? Remember?" Peter composed himself, his face blank.
"Miss Argent," Peter began, "on what planet was your dear Auntie ever clever enough to come up with it all herself? Hmm?" He turned maliciously toward her, cocking his eyebrow. "How did she know who to contact? Who did she know? And tell me, if she was that clever - why is it that Derek and his sister are still alive? Hmm?"
Allison stared at him, her brow furrowed as she tried to process this new information.
"Don't listen to him." Lydia hissed, and she glowered at Peter "He likes to play with your mind."
"My dear, if you think that I play mind games, you should meet the lucky lady behind Door Number One." Peter sneered, nodding towards the operating room. Moments passed. You could hear a pin drop. Suddenly the door opened and in came Mrs. McCall in her hospital scrubs and Chris Argent, looking armed and dangerous.
"Where?" asked Mrs. McCall, her fly away hair coming out of her neat ponytail. Scott pointed and Mrs. McCall bolted through the crowd, effectively separating Peter and Derek in the process. The door shut behind her, leaving an awkwardness in her wake.
"Dad, what are you-"
"GPS. On your phone. You were late coming home. I swear I only check in emergencies." he said, taking in the situation with a sweep of the room. "So, whats going on."
"I don't know." said Allison looking pointedly at the group. The looked at each other, waiting for one of them to answer the obvious question. Stiles, however was past all listening. He chewed on his shirt collar distractedly, trying to piece together the girl in the other room. She was a cat, a were-cat, not really, she was just a human who was sometimes a cat, she's trapped by her Alpha, her Alpha is evil, the Alpha has tried to kill people a lot, she protected those people, the Alpha kept her against her will, he (Stiles tried not to think her too) ate people, Derek knew her, she knew the Hales, she's escaped before, she also apparently told prophesies, she was somehow connected to the Hale fire, she was alone, she was afraid, she was in pain, and right now she was in need of help. Stile's stomach churned. Peter didn't know anything. Dr. Deaton had said that she helped the Hales. Then again, Peter didn't seem like he was lying either.
Dr. Deaton opened the door, taking off bloody latex gloves. "Ah Lydia," he said, paying no attention to any other newcomers. "I have a girl here who has no means to obtain clothes. She seems to be about your size, would it be possible for you to perhaps-?"
"Sure, yeah." said Lydia, who looked thankful for a reason to leave. She grabbed her purse, taking out her keys.
"You shouldn't go alone." said Allison, standing to go with her.
"Agreed, Mr. Stilinski?" said Dr. Deaton, Stiles was jerked from his thoughts. "Would you accompany Miss Martin, please?"
"Ahh," said Stiles, looking at Allison and Lydia, and then to the divided werewolves, "if it's all the same Doc, I'd rather stay here." Stiles crossed his arms, as if they could protect him from protests. It was not effective.
"Stiles, there is nothing you can do here." coaxed the Doc. Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but the wild panic in Lydia's wide eyes caused him to nod and follow her out the door. He paused at the frame, gripping it, watching Lydia dash to her car. He spoke with his back to the room.
"If anything happens to her," he said, his voice low and serious, "by your hand or someone else's . . . I don't know what I'll do." he paused, sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes determined "But I do know that I know enough to not want me as an enemy." He calmly walked after Lydia, leaving the remaining group to look at each other, suspicious and defensive.