Sunday crept by slowly and it was filled with homework and silent mantras about how much I despised Derek Hale. The fact I allowed him to give me a ride home made me want to kick myself in the face. Twice. Apparently, Garrison Meyers had passed away on Saturday night. Mom said his wounds were the cause of his demise. Scott had also learned of the alpha from Derek. He apparently went to confront him on Meyer's death, but Derek let the cat out of the bag. I learned some newfound information from Scott early Saturday morning as well—the alpha was the one who bit Scott. Not Derek. But besides all the gruesome negativity that came with this past weekend, Scott managed to have a good time with his boo thing at bowling. Shocking.
"Wait, what?" I stopped in my tracks after hearing Allison utter the words that Scott was coming over to her house. Lydia, her, and I were walking to our lockers, thanking God that the end of the day was only five minutes away.
"Scott's coming over tonight?" Lydia gawked.
"We're just studying together." Allison innocently defended.
"Studying isn't just studying. It's like getting into a hot tub. Somebody's eventually got to cop a feel." Lydia shrugged.
"Oh God, I might throw up." I groaned, wishing I had a pair of ear plugs on me right about now.
"So what are you saying?" Allison wondered.
"I'm just saying; make sure he covers up." Lydia winked.
"Lydia, I can feel my lunch coming up." Defiately didn't want to hear that. I looked to Allison, who cocked her head in confusion.
"Hello snow white, I'm talking about a condom!" I was about to hurl.
"Are you kidding? After one date?" Allison laughed the awkward situation off.
"Don't be a total prude. Give him a little taste." It was more like an order than a suggestion.
"Scott's not like that." I rolled my eyes and paused, "At least I hope he isn't." Scratch that, I didn't want to know.
"I mean…how much is a little taste?" Allison timidly asked.
"Okay, that's my cue to leave. Goodbye." I turned on my heel and walked down the stairs, leaving the two girls to giggle at how they just taunted me. The shrill school bell rang and out came a swarm of students. I pushed my way through the buzzing hallway and rushed to Stiles' last class to find him just walking out.
"Hey! Hey!" I called. Stiles turned around and waved his fingers towards me.
"What's up?" He wondered. We began walking to the parking lot.
"Can you drop me off? Scott's got a date with Allison."
"First of all, yeah he does!" Stiles cheered. "But yeah, I've got you." The two of us walked down the back steps of the school, Stiles talking the entire time about how frustrating economics class was today.
"At least I don't have to deal with Finstock for class and lacrosse." I mocked, hopping in Stiles Jeep.
"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." Stiles threw the Jeep into reverse and started heading to the school exit before a figure dressed in all black came out right in front of the car.
"Holy God!" Stiles slammed his foot on the break, causing the wheels to squeal against the asphalt. My back slammed into the back of the beat up leather seats as I identified the figure as Derek. He didn't look himself though—his skin was milky white and he had purple bags under his eyes. He looked sick.
"What the hell is he doing here?" I thought out loud.
"You've got to be kidding me this guy's everywhere." Stiles complained, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Derek's eyes rolled back and he plummeted to the pavement.
"Oh God, this can't be good." I struggled to undo my seatbelt and bolted out of the car and kneeled to the ground.
"What are you doing?" I shrieked. Cars idling behind the jeep began honking impatiently. I helped Derek sit up and lean his weight on one arm.
"What are you doing here?" Scott ran up to us and kneeled to the ground like I did.
"I was shot." Derek wheezed.
"You were shot?" I repeated. Stiles fumbled out of the car and stood beside us.
"He's not looking so good, dude." Thank you captain obvious.
"Why aren't you healing?" Scott asked.
"I can't. It, it was a different kind of bullet."
"A silver bullet?" Stiles automatically assumed.
"No you idiot." Even when Derek was deathly sick he couldn't stand Stiles.
"Wait, wait, wait! That's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours." Scott realized.
"What?" Derek gasped.
"Who said that?" I asked.
"Who—who said forty-eight hours?" Derek panted.
"The woman who shot you." Scott simply answered. Derek squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to reveal his electric blue orbs. Derek wasn't shifting, was he? Scott looked around to make sure no by-passers saw the supernatural occurrence.
"What are you doing? Stop that!" Scott cried. Derek's eyes continued to revert back and forth between their normal and beta color.
"I'm trying to tell you I can't." Derek growled at the teen wolf
"Derek, get up!" Scott demanded. Derek bared his teeth at Scott, clenching his jaw in pain. More and more students were getting ansy, honking and yelling at Stiles to 'move the damn car'.
"Okay as entertaining as this is, we need to do this somewhere else." I jumped up from my spot on the ground and helped Scott lift Derek up. Scott hauled him over to the Jeep and strapped him in the passenger seat where I was previously sitting.
"I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used." Derek's voice was raspy.
"How am I supposed to do that?" Scott panicked.
"Because she's an Argent. The woman, she's an Argent. She's with them." He stated.
"Look tonight." I told my brother.
"Why should I help you?" Scott spewed, glaring daggers at Derek. There was no hiding he hated the guy.
"Because you all need me." It sounded more like a promise than a threat. For once, I thought Derek was right. I looked to Scott, who looked pissed, and saw Allison walking towards us. She exited her silver Toyota and began walking over to the Jeep, utterly confused.
"Allison, two o'clock." I warned. Scott's eyes bugged out as he whipped his head around to see his girlfriend inching closer.
"Get him out of here." Scott ordered. I rushed to the other side of the Jeep and climbed into the back. Stiles hopped in and threw the car into drive, telling Scott how much he hated him for making him take Derek. I didn't know where we were going, but Stiles' had a determine look on his face as if we had some sort of destination. And wherever we were going, Stiles' was rushing. He couldn't stand to be next to Derek for more than three seconds. My eyes eventually wandered over to Derek. Beads of sweat were forming at his hairline and dripping down his pale skin. The sick wolf began took his leather jacket off and threw it onto the floor of the Jeep. Derek's head fell to his chest and he continued to cradle his injured arm.
"Oh come on, can you try not to bleed out on my seats?" Stiles groaned, thinking about kicking Derek out of the car and driving off without a second thought.
"Because one more mark on the leather would make a serious difference." I sarcastically commented. Derek stayed silent.
"Whatever. We're almost there." Stiles mumbled.
"Almost where?" Derek perked up.
"Your house?" Stiles moaned and rolled his eyes in frustration, basically wondering how Derek couldn't know the most obvious of questions.
"What? No, you can't take me there." Derek became alert, and was that fear I saw in his eyes?
"I can't take you to your own house." Stiles repeated, cackling at the statement.
"Not when I can't protect myself!" Derek stated. Stiles looked over to Derek in disgust. And knowing Stiles, I knew exactly what was going through his head. He didn't put up with people he didn't like.
"Stiles, as much as we both don't want to do this, we threw the guy in jail the least we can do is save his ass for a few hours." I put a calming hand on his shoulder. Stiles puckered his lips in anger and slammed his foot on the break, skidding the car onto the side of the road. "Are you insane?" I cried, slamming into the back of my seat. Stiles took the key out of the ignition and threw it into his lap.
"What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?" He bluntly asked Derek, who seemed to become weaker.
"Not yet. I have a last resort."
"Not yet?" Wait, Derek was actually dying?
"What do you mean? What last resort?" Derek pulled up the sleeve of his henely to reveal a bloody gunshot wound on his forearm. I flinched and averted my eyes away. I wasn't the best when it came to being around blood.
"Oh my God, what is that? Ugh, is it contagious? You know you should just get out." Stiles as well averted his eyes in disgust. I tried to control the bile rising in my throat before looking back at the wound. It was bad; there was no hiding how critical Derek's state was. No wonder he looked so sick. Knowing how, somewhat, Derek felt, I suddenly had the overpowering need to help him.
"Stiles, we need to get him to a doctor pronto."
"No. Just, start the car. Now." Derek ordered.
"I don't think you should be barking out orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could drag your little werewolf ass out in the middle of the road and leave you for dead." Stiles bitched.
"Start the car or I'm going to rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek threatened, getting a sly smirk out of me. There was a stare off between Stiles and Derek for a few seconds before Stiles unwillingly put the key into the ignition and started up the car.
"We need to stop the bleeding." I stated, examining his arm.
"How about getting the bullet out and then we can drop him off at the hospital?" Stiles suggested.
"Taking the bullet out might cause it to bleed more…besides, do you want to reach in there?" I asked with raised brows.
"Ugh, God." Stiles muttered, mocking a heave. As Stiles continued driving, I grabbed Derek's arm and began putting pressure on the sight. The second I put the slightest bit of touch on his arm, he growled at me, baring fangs.
"Will you relax? Unlike this one, I'm trying to help you." I spat. Derek's eyes glanced from my hand putting pressure on his wound and back up to my face before clenching his jaw and turning away. It was obvious he wasn't one to accept help or sympathy. We had that in common. Watching my hands work nimbly on Derek as if I was performing surgery, my eyes zeroed in on the blood staining my hands. A breath was caught in my throat as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to rid myself of the memory of my small hands stained blood red. Taking me out of my memory, Stiles phone began ringing. He stopped the car before answering the car.
"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles cried. I could hear Scott inaudibly talking to Stiles. "And by the way, he's starting to smell. Like death! " I slapped Stiles shoulder. "What about your boss?" Stiles listened to Scott for a few more seconds before handing the phone over to Derek, saying we wouldn't believe where Scott was telling us to take him. Derek hastily took the phone from Stiles' grasp.
"Did you find it?" There was a short pause. "Look, if you don't find it, I'm dead." Another pause. "Think about this: the alpha calls you out against your will. And he'll do it again. And the next time, you either kill with him or you get killed. So if you want to stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet." Derek furiously hung up the phone.
"Where are we going?" I wondered, taking pressure off the wound.
"The animal clinic." Stiles sighed before driving off. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the laughter about to burst out of my mouth. Stiles glared at me through the rearview mirror and I collected myself once more. "Scott said you'd know where the key is."
I left Stiles to hold up Derek's body, which was a pretty stupid idea since Stiles' could barely hold up his own weight. I ran into the back ally of the animal clinic and grabbed the spare key hidden under the dumpster. Once we opened one of the back entrances to the clinic, Derek fell exhaustedly on a several piles of dog food bags. When my phone began beeping, I whipped it out of my pocket and opened the message from Scott.
"Nordic Blue Munkshood?" Did I read that right? "Please tell me that means more to you than it does to me.
"It's a rare form of wolfs bane. He has to bring me the bullet." Derek wheezed.
"Why?" Stiles wondered, a worried expression crossing his face.
"Because I'm going to die without it." My face paled almost as much as Derek's. Stiles looked over to me, his eyes wide with fear. He didn't want to be responsible for the dying werewolf. I walked over towards Derek and kneeled to his level.
"How long do you think you have?" I quietly asked.
"Not long." My fingers made their way over to Derek's neck, feeling around for his pulse. His skin was hot and slick with sweat. His pulse was weak and seemed like it was dying.
"We need to hurry up." I alerted Stiles. Stiles and I lifted Derek up and we made our way into the back examination room, the biggest room in the building. Stiles went to flip the lights on while Derek stripped himself of his shirt. I would have taken the time to enjoy the view if it wasn't for the black veins protruding out of his bloody wound and all the way up his arm. The sick wolf stumbled to the examination table and I began grabbed paper towels and alcohol, setting it on the stainless steel.
"You know, that really doesn't look like anything some Echinacea and a good night sleep couldn't take care of." Stiles believed.
"If the infection reaches my heart it'll kill me." Derek mumbled. His voice was weaker. He began panting, turning around and searching through the cabinets. My eyes narrowed in on the tattoo inked on his upper back—a triple spiral. What was that about?
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?"
"What do you need? I'll get it." I offered. Unlike Stiles, I was taking the situation seriously. I wasn't letting someone else die on my watch.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, I have a last resort." Derek panted.
"Which is?" Stiles asked. Derek picked up a heavy metal machine out of one of the drawers and held it up for us to look at. It was a medical saw—the things that could cut through bones.
"You're going to cut off my arm." The two of us turned ghostly white. Derek slid the saw towards Stiles, who hesitantly picked it up.
"Oh my God." I gasped. Derek began tying elastic on his bicep.
"What if you bleed to death?" Stiles cried.
"It'll heal if it works." He muttered through a mouth full of elastic band.
"There's no way." My doe eyes grew bigger at the sight of the saw's blade. I couldn't imagine that cutting through Derek's body. It made me nauseous.
"Look, I don't know if I can do this." Stiles held back bile in his throat.
"Why not?" Derek snipped.
"I don't know, maybe because he's cutting off an arm? The cutting of bone and blood isn't exactly an everyday sight!" I cried.
"What, you faint at the sight of blood?" Derek narrowed his eyes in anger towards Stiles.
"No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!" Stiles retorted. Derek rolled his eyes.
"Alright, fine. You cut off my arm or I'm going to cut off your head." Derek threatened.
"You know, I'm so not buying your threats—" Stiles was interrupted by Derek grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward.
"Hey! We're the ones keeping you alive right now! Let him go." I yelled. Before Derek could say another word, he began throwing up a black substance.
"Holy God, what the hell is that?" Stiles cried.
"Oh my God, Stiles we need to do this like right now."
"My body is trying to heal itself." Derek said through heaves.
"I can't do this." Stiles threw me the saw.
"And I can?" I yelled.
"Just do it!" Derek screamed at me. My face turned stone cold and my lips formed a line. I held back tears behind my eyes, as I couldn't think of being so homicidal in chopping someone's arm off. Even if that arm belonged to Derek. I brought the blade up to Derek's arm and let my index finger hover over the on switch. There were a lot of things I wanted to do right now—crying and throwing up being two of them—but it didn't include cutting Derek's arm off. I couldn't do that. But it looked like I didn't have a choice.
"Stiles?" Scott called. My eyes shot open from being clamped shut.
"Scott?" I called back. I looked over to the door to see my brother.
"Hayley, what the hell are you doing?" He cried. I dropped the saw in relief before taking a breath before stepping back from the table.
"Did you get it?" Derek asked. Scott reached into his pocket and handed Derek a gold bullet.
"What are you gonna do with it?" Stiles wondered.
"I'm gonna…I'm gonna…" Derek collapsed, unconscious. The bullet rolled into the drain and Scott cried out for it. I rushed to kneel beside Derek and checked for his pulse.
"There's no pulse." I managed to say as I became stiff with fear. Stiles came down to my level, trying to coax Derek out of his unconscious state.
"Derek. Derek! Scott, what he hell are we gonna do?" Stiles yelled.
"I don't know!" Scott was on the floor trying to get the bullet out of the drain.
"I think he's dying! I think he's dead!" Hayley, take control of yourself. With Stiles trying to revive Derek, all hope would be lost.
"Stiles, move." I straddled Derek and put my ear to his bare chest. Nothing, it was silent. I began pushing on his chest, pumping my hands and trying to get the wolf to breathe again. Finally, after about thirty seconds, Scott got the bullet and Derek's chest slowly began to rise. I checked for a pulse to find that there was one, but it was weak. I flattened my hand out and arched my arm back, silently praying Derek wouldn't hunt me down for this later. My palm stung as it came in contact with Derek's cheek, but to my relief his eyes fluttered open. Derek looked at me in confusion before Scott, Stiles, and I all tried to help Derek up. Scott, carefully, handed Derek the bullet before he poured out the cartridge's powder and lit it on fire, allowing it to ignite like a sparkler. Derek scooped up the hot powder into his good hand and inserted it into the wound with a finger. He fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain. His back arched as tremors of burning shot down his arm. Scott, Stiles, and I watched in horror. Thank God, the screaming eventually died down and Derek was left panting while we watching in terror—besides Stiles who commented how awesome it was. The bullet wound had healed as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked.
"Yeah, except for the agonizing pain." Derek glared Scott down.
"Guess the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Stiles commented.
"Careful, he can probably kill you again." I thought. Stiles took a few steps backwards.
"Okay, we saved your life! Now you're going to leave us alone! You got that? And if I don't, I-I'm going to go back to Allison's dad and I'm going to tell him everything." Scott nervously threatened.
"You're going to trust them? You think they can help you?" Derek mocked.
"Why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are!" Scott cried.
"Quit while you're behind, Scott." I muttered, patting him on the shoulder. "He's right, they are a lot freakin' nicer than you are. You're welcome for saving your life, by the way." I huffed. Derek eyed Scott and I before nodding his head.
"Oh, I can show you how nice they really are." He said.
"What do you mean?" Scott wondered, suspicion growing.
"You think the Argents are so innocent? Let me show you how innocent they can really be." Derek growled.
"There's no way in hell we're going somewhere else with you. You've done enough damage on us for today." I spat. Derek stared at me for a second, a sarcastic smirk growing on his lips. He looked like he wanted to run me over.
"You're coming."
Derek parked his Camaro in the Beacon Crossing Homes parking lot. The BCH was a long-term care facility—a part of the hospital my mom worked in when she needed overtime. Derek stormed out of the car, leaving Scott and I trailing after him wondering why the hell we were here. What did this place have to do with the Argents? As we walked through the facility, no nurse or doctor questioned Derek's motives. They looked at him and continued on with their day like it was normal for him to be here. We wove ourselves down a few hallways before Derek stopped in front of a door and hesitantly turned the knob. I noticed the manila folder chart beside the door labeled 'Hale, Peter R.'. The three of us walked into the dark room and stood beside the man, presumably Peter Hale, sitting lifelessly in a wheelchair. His eyes were unresponsive and staring at the wall in front of his.
"Who is he?" Scott quietly asked. I noticed Derek's expression on his face—through the rock hard, cold exterior, I could see pain in his eyes as he looked at the relative.
"My uncle, Peter Hale." This had to be one of the reasons Derek was the way he was. Things like that changed a person.
"Is he like you? A werewolf?"
"He was. But now he's barely even human." Every muscle in my body constricted. "Six years ago my sister and I were at school, our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor." Derek solemnly explained.
"So, what makes you so sure that they set the fire?" I was glad Scott was doing all the talking. I had a lump stuck in my throat, finally understanding Derek's attitude towards the world. In a way, the two of us were similar. He just didn't have enough time to move on—though you never really could fully move on from some things so traumatic. Derek spat a laugh.
"Because they were the only ones that knew about us."
"Then they had a reason." I looked over to Scott, silently questioning why he was defending his girlfriends' murderous family.
"No one has a right to do something like that, Scott." I spat, whipping my head towards him. He could see the fire in my eyes. Derek looked to Scott the same way I had.
"Like what? You tell me what justifies this." Derek spun the wheelchair around to reveal the other side of Peter's face—skin charred and muscles slashed. "They say they'll only kill an adult, and only with absolute proof, but there were people in my family who were purely ordinary in that fire. This is what they do and it's what Allison will do." Derek exclaimed.
"What are you doing? How did you get in here?" A nasal red headed nurse appeared in the doorway.
"We were just leaving." Derek stated, grabbing Scott and I and walking out. I shook myself out of Derek's grasps and he led us out of the hospital. After exiting the sliding doors, I began walking head of the two werewolves. My feet had motive—to be anywhere away from Scott. Scott barely noticed how I was several feet away and walking on my own, but Derek sure did.
"She couldn't do that." Scott sighed, wondering if his girlfriend would actually do the same thing to his family.
"Stop defending her, Scott!" I turned on my heel and threw my hands up in exasperation. "You don't know her and you sure as hell don't know her family. Don't defend someone who could do something like that!" I cried. Scott bit his lip and looked at me like he was a child getting reprimanded. I rolled my eyes and turned around beginning to walk away.
"Where are you going?" Scott worryingly called.
"Home." I continued walking, not bothering to turn around.
"Derek's cars that way!" Scott began jogging after me.
"I know." I loudly stated. I could hear Scott stop in his tracks; he knew he needed to give me space. He was the wrong one here anyways. I continued on my trek through the parking lot, feeling Derek and Scott's eyes burning into my back the whole time.
A/N: Thoughts? Ideas? Theories? Why do you guys think Hayley was so protective over Scott making those comments on Peter? What do you think was going through Derek's mind at the end of the chapter?